On-Base Percentage

I hate math, even simple arithmetic feels like I'm exerting unnecessary brain power. That's what calculators are for. Plus, I'm a creative type, I'll throw that card out there. I don't fux with math. 

The exception to this rule is when I'm talking baseball, because of statistics and averages. Also, have I mentioned that I can understand absolutely anything when given to me as a baseball analogy? I think I have. Warning: This blog is going to be one long baseball analogy. I’m about to geek out. Ready?

Someone gave me very specific dating advice at one point:

"Watch the pitches. Don't swing at everything that gets thrown at you. Don't swing at the pitches that come too high, and definitely don't go for the ones that come too low. Wait. Wait on the right ones and you'll connect."

Stop it. You're fucking speaking my language.

In baseball there is a batting average, which is calculated by the number of hits divided by at-bats. I will admit, my batting average is low these days. I don't want to swing at anything. The pitches that come at me are sliders and change-ups. You think they're headed straight towards the strike-zone, but nope... They dip low or it snags an inside corner. Other times the pitches are so far outside that a swing would be foolish. 

Although in comparison, my on-base percentage is significantly higher, if I do say so myself. On-base percentage is calculated differently because it takes walks and hits-by-pitch into account. Sometimes I decide to get purposely get hit by these pitches, cause they come right at me, and the dude on the mound is looking good. Hey… why not?

I’ll continue to listen to this particular baseball dating advice, cause it makes all the sense in the world to me. So while I’m batting .003 these days, I’m not ashamed of my OBP. 

“Cause the player with the good OBP knows the strike zone and knows how to put themselves into position to score a run or drive one in.”

For the record, I'm not solely referring to sex, I'm talking about achieving significant/worthy single girl dating experiences. Cause if I was only trying to "get the runs in" well... that would be more like T-ball right?

This is beyond that.

Grievances

I am constantly asking people if they want to take trips with me. IDGAF if I go broke in NY, I need to continue to see this coast or my residency will not have been utilized to its full potential. But people are busy, schedules are complicated and money is tight for everyone. So I toy with the idea of going by myself… but I don’t want to.

I spend plenty of time by myself, exploring a new city for 72 hours solo is not my ideal choice. I don’t have enough music on my phone to keep me occupied that long.

I have at least half a dozen dresses just in my closet waiting for a fancy date. When I need convincing while shopping online I show them to my girls or any nearby female, “Should I buy this? I really don’t have an occasion for it at the moment.” They always tell me to buy whatever it is. Always. “Buy it for you. You’ll probably use it sooner than you think.”

They’re all in my closet with the tags still on. Thanks for the advice, bitches. 

This list just keeps growing... =p

Last Bite

I’m the type of person who strategically decides how she’s going to eat a meal, so the last bite is fucking perfect. Honestly, every bite is pretty much perfect, I make calories count. Thats how I do.

Anyways…

I’ve officially decided how much longer I’ve given myself in NY. 

(Truth. Swear. I’ve been sleeping on this decision for months. I've thought about it before I go to bed and when I wake up the idea still sounds right. I've repeated this process about three dozen times. So I know... This is right.)

Its not soon enough for everyone back on the Best Coast, and its way too soon for everyone I’ve connected with over here on the Beast. One side guilts the hell out of me for leaving, the other has begun its fight to keep me here. People give me grief all the time, but you know what? 

It’s not up to you, but thank you for growing this attached to me. HAHA. I kid, but it warms my heart.

In result, I am treating life in NYC as if its a meal. By knowing my exact timeline I am savoring the hell out of it. I am a serial planner, this is engrained into my DNA. I have silently begun checking items of my NY bucket list, I am planning in and out of town weekend excursions while I reside on the Eastern Seaboard, and I am making sure the time I spend here is grade A-top-notch-QUALITY. 

I will make it count until I’m on that one-way flight back to SFO. Trust.

But when is that, you ask? I’m not saying until I purchase that ticket. ;-)

Timing

In New York City there are 3 main but separate struggles:

• Finding an ideal place to live
• Finding a good job
• Dating, whether this means knowing when you're gonna get some again or trying to lock down something legit

The general consensus states that people can check off at least 2 out of 3. It's rare you're granted with all 3, and if you do have all 3—I'm betting you wouldn't mind replacing one. Guess which one I'm missing. 

(This is probably applicable to where ever you reside, but since I'm in NYC I'm hesitant to generalize these observations because I feel the struggs is definitely real out here.)

During lunch one of the freelancers shared his piece on his new amazing place. He said that he's been subletting a room the size of a closet for 3 months and he couldn't take it anymore. So instead of renewing the lease or adding on another month it was time to GTFO there. He said that by the time he only had 3 days left in the room he had no real leads—even though he was actively searching. So he responded to a CL ad on a whim and there you have it... He's in love with his new spot, claiming that his karma finally kicked in. "Yo, timing is everything," he said. "I wasn't feelin' anything prior to that room and I didn't want to commit. I realize I was 3 days away from ending up couch surfing at a friend's, but I wasn't ready to just settle for anything.”

My response was as follows: "You know this basically applies to the trifecta of NY life. You could be talking about a job search or dating and the same feelings would apply."

And we all agreed. Timing is fucking everything.

This is where I needed to apply this perspective to my own personal NY struggle. I bitch and complain about the struggle of dating when in reality I really don't believe I can control anything. I'm not asking for a RomCom “Serendipity” moment, but I still feel that shit is out of my hands most of the time. Also, I'm not expecting a dude to fall out of the sky, I will seize the opportunity when I feel like it's in front of me. I have no idea when the fuck that is supposed to be, things happen for me at the absolute oddest times, so I’ll just look out for it.

But think about it... Amazing instances occur out of random decisions and by being denied other "opportunities." Had I not happily taken that cotillion spot for Iris' 18th birthday I would've never seduced Ex-Mr into being my BF (yes, I used the correct word right there).  Had I not responded to that CL ad in Feb of last year I would not be living with Adam in BK right now. Sometimes you find things are "the best thing you've never had" and vice versa, and so on... And so on... And so on...

Case in point—timing is everything… as far as timing for my love life goes I guess I'm just supposed to sit around for now. FINE. I'll be patient, I'm good at that.

Clock is ticking though, and I’m tired of looking at my watch. Just saying.

Bye-coastal

I’m usually the one who gets to leave. I book insane red-eye flights, KTFO as best as I can, get ready in a JFK bathroom and send my ass straight to work. I drink coffee, I put on noise-cancelling headphones, turn my music up to a dangerous decibel and I hyper-focus on my projects. 

I look how I feel, like shit—but I’d rather have it this way.

I prefer the distractions of not having a moment to myself, because its easier to deal. Its always difficult as fuck leaving home. I’m always anxiety ridden the entire day. I get “miss you already” and “when are you coming back” texts before I even board the plane. I feel 5,000 emotions, and I don’t enjoy feeling that type of way. So I purposely throw myself immediately into my everyday routine, despite my lack of energy and rest. I can’t miss all of you when I’m working towards meeting multiple deadlines. I mean, I can—but I don’t have the time to lament on it.

Recently I was the one left behind. Is that what it feels like when I leave?

Cause it sucks. I hated it. I couldn’t stand it. 

Shitty Love

Behind closed doors I loved him in this disgusting way. I showed my affection for him in such strange ways, of which I could probably never repeat with anyone. Conventionality was never our thing, but I swear we were from another planet. 

I used to draw doodles on the couch while he took a shit, then I would slip the piece of paper underneath the door while he was still handling his business. It was always unbelievably dumb sketches, like a cartoon version of myself eating a cheeseburger. I did this often enough that he started a collection. 

I used to yell on the other side of the bathroom door to try to get him to let me in while he took a shit. We had this rule that the other one was never allowed inside during such activities. We had this mutual understanding that some things were sacred (like taking a shit) and we needed to respect that time/space. Still—I would try my hardest to convince him to open the door while he was still on the toilet.

“LET ME IN. I forgot my glasses in there.”
“NO YOU DIDN’T, THEY’RE ON YOUR FACE.”
“LET ME IN. I need some toothpaste!
“You’re not even brushing your teeth! STOPPP. JUST WAIT.”
“LET ME INSIDE!”

I’m fucking obnoxious. I told you. I think I’m hilarious though, personally.

Once in a while he would be in the bathroom and not realize that he would need to take a shit, leaving the door closed but unlocked. I don’t know why, but I would always turn the handle whenever he was inside. It was like magic when I caught the door unlocked. I would jiggle the door handle and he would prevent me from coming inside, like I was a zombie trying to get him. He has quick reflexes, so I could never actually get into the bathroom. The door would be locked in a second. I always enjoyed giving him grief and a minor panic attack during these moments.

I was evil and annoying, but thats how I loved him. It was (literally) shitty love.

Well, Well, Well, Well

I’m currently reading a book called Gentlewoman. I’m constantly on the verge of taking photos of the words and texting it to someone, cause I feel as though everything this man writes is real talk-100-status.

He describes a lady as being:
Well-dressed. Well-read. Well-traveled. Well-spoken.

Hi. You just defined me and many of my girlfriends. I feel there is no need for false humbleness because this is a simple definition, nonetheless I am happy to fit the bill. 

I would like to request the same. I am seeking out my equal, for a man with the same checked boxes because with my high heels come high standards.

Well-dressed
My male friends are constantly pointing out other men to get a feel for my type, I have gotten shit for calling men out on how their pants fit. It's simple, if his pants don’t fit him properly: “No thank you. Pass.” ITS NOT THAT HARD (that’s what she said). I’m not asking you dress like Don Draper on the daily, I just ask that your clothes are up to date and they fit you well. I myself am a lazy dresser at times (I think “leggings = pants”), but I am never sloppy. I’m not trying to change anyone, please come with a wardrobe ready-to-go. However, if you want to go shopping we can do that too, I love the men’s section more than the women’s. 

Well-read
You don’t have to quote Thoreau, Hemingway or Emerson—that would honestly intimidate the hell out of me. A man past a certain age should have books in his apartment. He should be interested enough in something that he seeks out knowledge in some shape or form. If that means he’s online reading random feeds for the first hour of every workday that is fine with me.

Well-traveled
I realize that people can only travel within their means, and for most traveling is a luxury whether that means time, money or both. But if I’m looking for my equal, well then—your passport should have at least a few stamps in it. By my next birthday I will have visited 16 countries and at least 16 states, you don’t have to keep up with those numbers, just share my wanderlust. If you have no interest in seeing the world that’s not gonna work with me.

Well-spoken
I use words like facetious, incredulous and insinuate during everyday conversation. My dictionary and thesaurus on my computers get pulled up constantly. I write this blog. I’m self-conscious that Bridget (hey girl, here’s your shout out) reads this cause she’s a writer/proof-reader. I ask that my next man has his grammar game proper and is equally articulate. 

Am I asking for a lot? Probably. Definitely, but you know what?

I’m a lot. 

No New Friends

Why No One Should be My Friend

• I will ask you to pick me up/drop me off at the airport. Hey, I'd do it for you... 
• While dining at a restaurant I forget to ask people if they want a bite of my food. 
• I get left and right mixed up (in a dyslexic way), you should never have me sitting shotgun and giving directions (or just do the opposite of everything I tell you).
• I get intolerable if I'm hungry or if I'm super tired. Yes, I'm five years old and sometimes all I need is to be fed or told to take a nap.
• I'll probably want to go to the gym instead of accepting your random Happy Hour invitation (real talk, I don't understand why people make me feel guilty for this one).
• I am super anti-social on Sunday nights, I almost always refuse invitations to hang out. I save that time for myself, unwinding at home. The exception is if it's football season (if the 49er’s game is not nationally televised I will drag my ass out to a sports bar).
• If you sit next to me during a live baseball game I probably won't say two words to you or initiate any type of conversation. I'm not sorry either, I'm watching baseball. If you wanna talk about what's happening we can talk about that. Also, I'm not being rude—I'm paying attention. 
• People don't allow me to sit in front of a tv at the bar/restaurant anymore. They make me sit on the opposite side so I focus on them and the conversation. Ok, I'm sorry for this one.
• SOMETIMES I HELLA HATE GROUP TEXTS. UNSUBSCRIBE. UNSUBSCRIBE. UNSUBSCRIBE. But I can’t…
• If I'm coming from home/BK I will most likely be 30 mins late to almost anything, specifically at night or on the weekends.
• You should never ask me for dating advice, I will provide the most jaded answer I can think of. “He didn’t text you, cause he didn’t. He could’ve, but he didn’t.”
• Sometimes I think I know everything and its annoying as fuck. This used to be a bigger problem pre-2012, but this personality flaw has died down significantly.
   

Why You Should be My Friend

• I always have gum.
• I always buy a round of dranks. Always. Never fail. Gotchu.
• My phone is always on, never on "Do Not Disturb" and I am easily woken up by a single text message. If you have an emergency, you can probably reach me.
• I will send you amazing music based on what I think you would appreciate. When I know I'm on-point with your specific taste I send more.
• I’ll fight you for the bill at the end of a meal, most of the time.
• I am NEVER on Instagram or my phone when I am in your presence, at a meal, while having a conversation, or trying to have any type of quality time with you.
• I have THEE ABSOLUTE BEST inside jokes with people. #watermelonwater #bitcheslovewilliam #tinareyes 
• I like to think I make people laugh, but honestly I’m pretty sure they laugh AT ME, not WITH ME. Whatever, as long as my company entertains you.
• I am genuinely thoughtful. I will buy two kinds of chocolate croissants at the bakery and we’ll share. I’ll text to ask if you already have coffee, cause I’m about to be next in line at the coffee shop. I’ll buy bags of candy for the entire office and pass it around.
• I'm pretty good at telling stories. I always have stories or I'm always venting about stupid shit, either way I will have you laughing.
• I'm an amazing travel companion, hotel room mate, etc. etc. etc. Real talk. I've been on multiple trips with the same people over and over. They love me, you would too.
• I smell good.
• When you're at a store and you text me if you should buy certain items, I will probably respond while you're still trying everything on. No "ohh shit, I just saw this text, did you already leave?" type of BS. I'll be honest too. I won't lie to you.
• Its handy having me around when you need a random logo / resume designed / baby shower invitation created. I never take your money either... so I go to work after work, for free-99. I have to love you (HARD) for this though.
• Cause you're reading this right now...

Strengths & Weaknesses

Strengths

High Alcohol Tolerance
I can do FIVE pickle back shots at one bar, walk to the next place and get a Jameson+Ginger and maybe (maybe, depending on how I’m feeling) go for one more. That’s SEVEN drinks and I have not lost any ability to think straight, remain completely responsible and get my ass home (alone) safely. The next morning I will wake up with a slight headache (at most) which is easily remedied by eggs, toast and two Advil. I’m pretty much good-to-go for the rest of the day. People generally assume I’m a lightweight based on appearances, it is the opposite. I am both ashamed and proud of how much alcohol it takes to get me completely faded. Ok. Half of you are impressed right now and half of you are truly concerned. Next subject…

Immunity to Corny Shit
I am easily disgusted by conventional displays of love and affection, personally. I don’t like roses. I’ve never called anyone “babe.” Once I had a date scheduled and I had to push it back to a later time, the guy’s response was: “That’s ok, if it means I finally get to meet you.” Gag. Gross. I wanted to to immediately cancel on him after that. I am immune to typical pick-up lines and messages where all they do is compliment my looks. That doesn’t get you anywhere with me, do better.

Weaknesses

Kisses on the Cheek
There is a certain confidence you need to be able to kiss a woman on the cheek. First of all you need to provide a genuine hug, no half-assing awkward or one-armed bullshit, that doesn't fly—you need a true fucking embrace and you go in for the slightest peck on the cheek. Its never calculated, its always swift and genuine. My platonic male friends all have this growing habit of actually making contact with my cheek when they greet me hello / goodbye. I kind of melt, every time—even just a little bit. Imagine what the effect is when I actually like someone. Swoon on 100 x 1,000 x Trillion.

Soft Rap Lyrics
You know why I love Drake? Because he has the absolute best similes / analogies / metaphors / hashtag raps / etc. etc. etc. I think he is sooooooooo clever and it has formed a direct path to my heart. When it comes to music I can always appreciate a good beat and I am always breaking down the lyrics of songs (thus my constant visits to RapGenius). The following is my favorite line, ever, ever in the history of my stupid obsession with Drake:

“Love your ass like Milhouse loves Lisa. Love your ass like the Ninja Turtles love pizza.”

We've all witnessed Milhouse chase after Lisa Simpson for yearrrrsssss. We are all familiar with just how much the Ninja Turtles go batshit crazy for pizza. If thats not love—I honestly do not know what the fuck is. I realize just how strange of a weakness this is, but real talk… a few good lines make my knees into jello and my heart skip beats. This isn’t as easy as it sounds, I won’t take any old regular line, I bet you’ve never heard of the one I referred to above. You still gotta do work, but man… If you find the right ones… Hi, these are my panties. Here, have them.

The Intangibles

I can buy myself dinner and drinks. I can purchase material objects, call them gifts and treat myself. I can explore parts of New York City I've never seen before. I can book vacations with my favorite people and trips back home. I can provide anything for myself that my paycheck and credit card can buy.

However, I cannot provide the intangibles.

I cannot send myself thoughtful text messages, that would be crazy. I cannot fully anticipate the bad days and predetermine how to make it all better, although I try. I can’t self-induce the euphoria of romantic love. I can’t replicate the feeling of butterflies. I can’t fill the entire bed, I’m small and I still prefer just the left side. 

In the process of self-healing I’ve patched myself up pretty fucking well. But there are voids, and I cannot fill the voids alone.

#TBT

Every so often I come across this photo while searching for #TBT material. Thankfully my wedding photos don't trigger negative emotions. If anything I'm pissed I didn't take the time to print a single one or create an album. Ohh well, too late for that. #procrastiKATE

I was 25 when this was taken. I was a month and some change from turning 26. Ohh how I have grown. I was a good looking bride though, right? RIGHT?

5 Things

5 Stupid Things I’m willing to admit cause I’m Debbie Downer over here and I need to even this shit out.

• Sometime last week I had some down time at work. I read online reviews of all the Taco Bell breakfast items. I have absolutely no intention of trying any of these menu items, but I felt the need to educate myself. I could’ve been reading about world news or Obamacare, but no… I chose to read about Taco Bell breakfast.
• Since its Lent I have once again given up sugar. I have taken open Girl Scout Cookie boxes to just smell them. I have stood over boxes of donuts and cannolis at work, just to stare at them. I have a mental list of all the things I want to eat once Easter rolls around. So far it includes: Laduree macaroons, peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, a cronut, ice cream, ice cream and more ice cream. I have the sweetest fucking tooth.
• I really need to stop following Drake on Instagram. I REALLY NEED TO STOP. His Instagram feed shows absolutely nothing of value. In fact he floods my feed with really terrible and irrelevant photos. STILL—I can’t get myself to stop following his account.
• The other night I asked Melissa if she wanted to go to King of Diamonds when we go to Miami before our cruise in Nov. She responded with “HELL YES.” I shouldn’t have been surprised that she knew what I was referring to (because we pretty much have the exact same taste in music), but I was. When I responded in amazement with “YOU KNOW WHAT THAT IS?!?” Her response was “Umm yeah, its the strip club Rick Ross and Drake always talk about.” THIS IS WHY WE’RE FRIENDS. This is the exact reason why we are friends. God put the two of us together for a reason.
• I lied. I could only think of 4 things, now its 2am and I need to sleep.
• PENIS.