60/40
On Monday I came into work and my boy Law (short for Lawrence) says to me:
“I think you’re 67% tomboy. 33% Cinderella-ish.”
“Hah! I think that’s an accurate assessment. But I’m more like 60/40. How did you come up with that figure?”
“Because, some days you come here and you’re in flannel and a snapback. Other days I can’t tell if you’re going on a date or just feelin’ yourself. Sometimes it’s both.”
I am currently shopping for hood rat clothes while yelling at baseball on my couch. I’m upset that Vogelsong already threw an excess number of pitches by the 3rd inning and wasn’t relieved before he gave away 3 more runs. I’m also online shopping and evaluating whether or not dresses are tight/short/sexy enough for a trip to Miami/party cruise at the same damn time.
I also cook, clean, bake and quote hip hop songs while trying to make you laugh. Whatever the hell I think a complete package is—that is how I expect to be perceived. Yes. I have very high regard for myself. Where have you been?
I get compliments from men I respect, I get positive feedback from my fellow ladies… But everything is currently backfiring, because I just have a major question at this point:
If I’m so fucking cool why does dating suck so much?
My friends respond with the usual:
- Men are intimidated. (Bullshit.)
- It’s New York. (Probably.)
- Don’t worry. It’s timing. (Fuck. I hope so.)
I realize I am the choosey one, but it’s only because I expect my equal. I have reiterated this a thousand times.
I want the entire package too: 60% interesting/intelligent/quick-witted/funny mother fucker & 40% stylish/hot sex beast.
FUCKING UNICORN.
It's not you. It's me.
I thought that purchasing a one-way ticket back to the opposite coast would placate everyone, most importantly myself.
*Buzzer sound* WRONG. So wrong.
Apparently I’m the only one who has been quieted with the confirmation of an NY end date. I’m glad my brain has finally stopped spinning out of control. I just needed to pull the trigger. At this point I’m just counting down and making the absolute most of my time left on the East Coast. I’m a master at efficiency planning and prioritizing.
California is on constant watch to make sure nothing affects that Christmas eve delivery date.
I’m already getting job and apartment listings sent to me.
My mom wants to plan a family cruise to Mexico.
My sister said she would happily kick out any of her tenants to make space in her house for me.
Everyone is ready to accommodate.
“You should move back sooner. It’s already getting cold there.”
“You should move back if the Giant’s win the World Series.”
New York will not shut the fuck up.
“How are you already booked for a one-way ticket?”
“You know, you’re going to get bored there.”
“What if you meet someone between now and then?”
“Kate, that’s so fucking soon.”
“You should just go for the winter, come back in the spring.”
“Kate, you just get seasonal affective disorder. We discussed this.”
That’s what I’m dealing with these days. Constantly. It’s like I’m breaking up with everyone. I don’t know how to respond most of the time, and I try not to bring up the subject of me leaving just so I can avoid these conversations.
Look, if I was 26 too… If I came from no-wheres-ville USA (no offense)… If I didn’t already love where I came from, I’d have plenty reasons to stay.
It turns out I have more reasons to leave, and none of them are any of you.
It’s me, and I need to go home.
Her
I was on my solo adventure to DC when I answered a FaceTime call from him last Saturday. When the connection became clear I saw her, this little being, sitting up bow-legged on the bed I choose for her father and I. It was the first time I saw her beyond a still photo.
I gave a loud gasp. "OMG. It's your child. Hahahaha. Gahhhhhh!!!"
He kept the FaceTime session on her. I made faces so she would smile. What an asshole, how could such a gorgeous innocent little life come from the mess he made? I don't know and fortunately for him—I'm ok.
The session didn't last long because after a minute she made a pout and began crying. He scooped her up swiftly and called it, "She's grumpy, she needs to eat. We gotta go now."
I texted him later, "It's funny. You're a dad and she's the reason. She's the reason we didn't work out."
"No. I'm the reason we didn't work out. Me." He responded.
"Nah. It's her. It's definitely her. She's the reason."
#BelieveMe *Cues our favorite Young Money duo.*
I wasn't meant to continue being his wife and eventually become his baby mama. It wasn't in our cards. That is perfectly cool with me, I keep trying to tell him my future is fine.
I'm just patiently awaiting my particular reason. I was always the patient one anyways.
Shit is taking forever though. Hurry up.
No New Friends, Pt. 2
I’m reaching a threshold for the amount of friendships I can maintain. In order for me to scale back and give myself more personal time, allow me to convince you why you should avoid a friendship with me.
I'm obnoxious and distracting when I'm not busy.
Today I kept sending my coworkers links to various bakeries within a 5 block radius of our new office space. I told a handful of them that we should wake up and get to work early just because we are in short distance to a famous cronut bakery. Then I sent them 2 other bakeries we have to check out after that. I also sent around a video of 2 kangaroos boxing on a residential street in Australia and proceeded to facilitate a discussion with the multitude of questions I had: “What do you think their beef is? I mean, really… Why do you think they're boxing? Why are they in that neighborhood? How come there are no other kangaroos around?" I was fascinated and I wouldn't shut up.
I'm really terrible at keeping up with TV shows (except Mad Men and New Girl, their story lines run parallel to my life so I prioritize those two, no matter how busy I am).
I still haven’t finished "Breaking Bad." I am SUPER BEHIND on "The Walking Dead." Someone will start a conversation about a particular series and I’ll tell them to STFU because I am only on season/episode ___, they always proceed to throw insults at me at how I suck at life. In reality I would have to lock myself in my room for a decent amount of time in order to catch up on EVERYTHING that has been suggested to me. Maybe if you didn’t wanna kick it I would have time to finally start 2 dozen different TV series. Just saying. This is a catch-22 situation, guys.
Giants Postseason Baseball > You
When the Giant’s won the wildcard I said FUCKIT and purchased a ticket to the game and a bus ticket to DC and immediately cancelled my original plans for this past Saturday (all originally suggested by me). I skipped Tahitian dance on Tuesday night because I wouldn’t get home in time for first pitch if I went to class. Baseball makes me super selfish, not many things make me crazy. Baseball makes me crazy. I’m already considering schemes in case SF goes against Baltimore for the World Series. If that happens—I'm there.
I don’t have insurance to get behind the wheel of a car.
I can’t drive myself anywhere because its illegal. Whenever I’m home in the Bay I get dropped off and picked up—EVERYWHERE. I am 31 going on 13. If you wanna hang out you must accommodate me. I absolutely hate this because I am extremely self-sufficient. Then again, I do not care to drive, so… It works out for me. HAH.
I’ll probably want to do things that make you spend more money than you want to.
"Let’s take a mixology class. (I legit want to do this, if you’re interested we should still be friends.) Hey my birthday is coming up, I’m gonna do brunch here, go to HH here and then the next day we’re going to the beach." If the event is regarding myself—its dumb. I don’t know who I think I am… NY going away festivities are already being planned, I will probably have 5.
You don’t want to be my friend. I’m really awkward, super strange and I’m full of myself at the same time. It’s an odd combination. Save yourselves.
JK. I’m awesome. Let's hang out sometime.
Day to day
I can handle the monsoons and hurricanes like a champ, it’s been proven. I’ve buckled down and dealt with heartbreak, divorce and acceptance.
It’s the day to day rain I can’t deal with these days.
I have long stressful days at work. I come home to nothing, no one and no hot meals. All I want is a text or a question: “How are you? How was your day?” There is no one asking or waiting. The everyday burdens get heavy too. Sometimes I fight tears on the way home, out of fucking nowhere. I want to tell someone my day fucking sucked and not feel an ounce of guilt. I want to complain and bitch and cry on someone’s actual shoulder. I want to release my weak side, cause it exists.
This is a reoccurring problem lately. Obviously Ex-Mr didn’t do a very good job at taking care of me, but it was something until it was nothing. In result I had to take care of myself and I knew I was fully capable and ready to do so.
But I’m tired.
I’m pretty fucking tired now.
*SIGH—10,000 TINY VIOLINS PLAYING*
Tuesday
I promise I actually have things to say these days, but every time I type something up I think I sound redundant.
Random share... Next time I get married I'm going to hire a dude like this just to play Drake covers during the cocktail hour. Yes, I love Drake, but we can be classy as fuck while loving Drake.
F<3CK
NY vs. CA
NY
- Pizza
Pizza for $2. Chicken ranch pizza. I can't stop talking about chicken ranch pizza. One more time... Chicken ranch pizza.
- Rooftops
It doesn't matter if it's a party, bar or someone's apartment building, I love them all. There's something about a warm afternoon or evening and taking in a city skyline. SF is too cold for this type of activity. You know those beer commercials where they have string lights hanging and people are having an amazing fucking time on a rooftop? That shit is real in NY, the people just aren’t as beautiful as they depict in those commercials.
- 4am Last Calls
Ok, so it's good I'm leaving this place because on the weekends I still think I'm 25 instead of 31. Fortunately my body metabolizes alcohol well and I don't die every time.
- $5 Picklebacks
The current record is 7 at a single place. Agreed, it's good I'm leaving. Maybe I should try to break this record before I go. Maybe I shouldn't. Fuckit. I just challenged myself. Challenge accepted. #bucketlistitem
- Summertime
I was born in the summer. I thrive in 80+ degree weather. You don't have to wear a jacket, socks or pants. You can eat ice cream every day and not be considered a crazy person. I also enjoy (fake) camping, picnics, beaches, bonfires, day parties, bbqs and life outdoors in general.
- Public Transportation
I haven’t driven a car all year. I pay $112 for my monthly MTA pass. I never have to pay for gas. I never have to discuss with anyone who the DD is or if they’re good to get behind the wheel of a car.
- 24 Hours
This city doesn't sleep. Although I live out in BK I can still find a 24 hour Duane Reade in my hood or get a fresh panini delivered at 3:30 am. I shouldn't be living so ridiculously that I need to visit a Duane Reade at 5am or require a fresh panini delivered as soon as I'm back from a night of bar hopping, but its wonderful to know I can.
CA
- One-stop Shopping
You can buy alcohol at a grocery store and even better, you can buy liquor at Target. "I just spent $100 on shit I didn't realize I needed. Damn, I should pick up a bottle of Jameson while I’m here.” Fuck you, Target. Just kidding, I love you. You're the best.
- Burritos
I ate two burritos within the two days I was back in SF. That's what happens when I never order a burrito in NY. No lies.
- My Friends
I suppose they belong on this list. Even though they gang up on me and refer to me as a non-sexy/cute cartoon character from Bob's Burgers. They also do super thoughtful shit like attempt to send me my favorite food packed in dry ice. I couldn’t even eat the food (because it was ruined by the melted dry ice) but I almost cried at the gesture. The other ones drop whatever they’re doing and prioritize my annoying ass when I’m in town. Yeah ok, I guess they belong on this list.
- My Family
Mom won’t stop asking me about moving back. Her words exactly: “Kate, December? 100%???” Every freaking Sunday. If I didn’t add my family to this list I’d be a terrible daughter/sister. Also, they said I could live rent free for however long I wanted. This will not last long because:
1. I will get tired of this living situation.
2. I can’t get D there.
3. They never have food in their fridge. None, only condiments. No joke.
- Mild Weather
There is no snow, not unless you’re headed to Tahoe for recreational purposes. I won’t have to walk in single digit weather wondering why I am suffering so hard. Instead of 4 legit seasons there are really only 2-3.
- PST
My phone and chat comes to life after the West Coast shows up to work at noon (my time). I hate that when I get caught up in a Giants game I am up until at least 1am, because they start at 10. An 8pm 49er game is the worst when its not nationally televised, because I refuse to stream it and I will actually leave the house just to watch. I get texts past midnight because the West Coast forgets. Hi, I'm 3 hours ahead. Fuckers. You wake me up all the time. I love you anyways. I look forward to being in the same time zone as 70% of the people in my life.
Achilles heel
I was wrong.
I believed that my brain and vagina individually schemed with my heart. I thought either party evaluated situations / scenarios / sex and sent signals allowing my heart to feel (or not).
Nah, I was all wrong.
The brain is too smart. The vagina is too busy enjoying itself. All routes to my heart are complicated and no signals are ever really sent.
I realized that there is another entity I never even considered. A major sleeper who came out of left field. Drumroll please…
It’s my fucking hand. Traitor. I didn’t expect that.
Why the hand? Because. My hand gets held VERY RARELY. When it is held by a man whose company I enjoy it shoots off five thousand feelings, straight to my mother fucking heart. It’s a specific piece of my body thirsty for affection. It always has been. Ex-Mr rarely held my hand. So when these particular men take my hand and intertwine their fingers with mine… FUCK. That’s my achilles heel.
It’s amazing I didn’t realize this sooner, but I learn with experience and I experienced this very recently.
Fucking achilles heel… I see you now.
BET
We have a bet going on that if I don’t come home (for good) by Christmas, I have to wear some kind of animal print jumpsuit for an entire day. I didn’t even ask what the repercussion was for them if I happen to keep my word. BTW, this needs to be discussed… I deserve some kind of homecoming and you folks will be in some type of embarassing group costume for me to enjoy.
I don’t like to lose bets:
Sometimes I’m hasty. Most of the time I just say “fuckit, this is a great idea” and roll with the punches.
FUCKIT, THIS IS A GREAT IDEA.
P.S. I didn’t tell/text/warn anyone I was purchasing this one-way. I realize a lot can happen between now and Christmas Eve, but I’m taking that chance.
FUCKIT, THIS IS THE BEST IDEA.
I’m looking forward to hearing the comments/texts/messages after you all read this.
Good Thoughts
When I moved into my NYC loft he was the first roommate I ever met. He came to my room and introduced himself. I found out he was only a year older than me and born and raised in SF. A Niner fan who grew up watching the A’s during their heyday. I guess its common when it comes to 80’s babies. I know a few of those.
I followed him from Chinatown to Brooklyn when he bought this condo. It was an easy decision to join him, I had no doubts. He is the longest roomie I’ve ever had.
He encourages me to date the fuck out of NY. He loves it when I have some kind of story including a man and a rooftop, cab ride or dance floor. He gives me advice and perspective when I ask for it, which is constantly.
He knocks on my door when shit is happening regarding baseball and I need to pay attention. Sometimes I beat him to the punch and he can hear the announcers blasting from my iPad. “Ok. I just wanted to make sure you were watching.”
He’s always catching me drunk, in some humorous state in which all I require is food and my bed. Last night he hovered above me for two seconds cause I was waiting for my food to be delivered at 3:30 am and I fell asleep. “Kateeeeeeee…. I knew you’d pass out. HAHA. Your food is on the kitchen table. I also left you a pickle.”
This morning he told us he had cancer.
No one has ever personally told me they have cancer. I didn’t know how the fuck to react. I was silent, just reading his face.
Is he fucking serious? Cancer?
Cancer?
He told us it was hodgkin's lymphoma, that he was stage 2 and they gave him a very promising diagnosis and he would be starting chemotherapy next week.
Fuck. Cancer.
I had a thousand questions and experienced a thousand emotions. I wanted to cry, but I didn’t want to make the delivery of the news any shittier than it already was. I still want to cry. Fucking cancer.
Thankfully he has a positive outlook and good statistics on his side, so I’ll bank on that.
So we need good thoughts over here. Only good thoughts.