We Can Work On That

I’ll probably want to dress you, unless for some reason you’re already in perfect-fitting jeans and a slim-cut chambray button-up. I’ll act as though I’m just accompanying you on a random trip to H&M, but in-truth I’m supervising your ass while I have the opportunity. “That looks good on you.” That’s all it will take. Next thing you know your entire wardrobe is extremely on-point and I’ll be admiring your solo purchases as I try to take them off you. I’ll also steal your shit, that’s the real compliment. Just don’t get mad if it looks better on me.

I’ll subliminally throw examples of great haircuts at you until you subconsciously (or consciously) cave in. When you finally do I will reward you with so much positive reinforcement that you’ll be forced to get cut regularly. Fresh haircuts are my weakness, you will learn this, fast. I will always want to touch the back of your head. Guaranteed. I cannot resist this.

I’ve decided I’m going to be super fucking inconvenient for you. Inconvenient like picking me up from the Oakland airport at 10:45 pm on a Wednesday after not seeing me for 7 days. Inconvenient like staying at a baseball game until the 14th inning because I won’t leave until someone wins. Inconvenient like we miss dinner reservations because I need to wait 30 minutes after the sun sets to actually take a picture of the sky. You know—inconvenient shit like that.

I’ll apologize… sometimes. I don’t mean to be difficult in any way, that’s just who you’re getting. 

Don’t worry though, this isn’t a one-way street. We can probably watch whatever it is you want most of the time, even if that means I’m watching rough ass psychological-heavy thrillers before drifting off to sleep (*ahem*cough* Who really thinks “SE7EN” is a great night time movie? YEAH, I THOUGHT SO. *still coughing*). 

I might consider your thoughts about about my ideal hair length, key word “consider.” Suggestions accepted, execution not promised. I’ll think about it though. Really. Maybe…

I will retain whatever information you throw at my dome. Your interests don’t necessarily become my interests, but I’ll comprehend enough to throw questions back at you. Kobe’s number is 24 cause he’s “1 over Jordan.” I hate the Lakers. Case. In. Point.

So we’re good right? You get an obnoxious style consultant who decides most of the schedule and I get whatever it is you are (but we'll probably be working on that).

;-)

Guilty Ghost

You’d think I’d be more considerate regarding other people’s feelings when it comes to the dating front.

Nah. Let’s face it… I’m a hypocritical, semi-shallow, narcissist who thinks she’s a dude.

I was at Outsidelands when I shook this guy’s hand as if he introduced himself to me for the first time. I extended my hand, repeated his name and *click.* “FUCK. I’ve met this dude multiple times. He has my number.” He realized it finally dawned on me that I recognized him and he gave me a weak nod as if to say: “Yeah, we’ve met before.”

Sometimes I’m the dick. I’m the fuckgirl. I’m the one who ghosts. I’m the one who doesn’t respond. I’m the one who throws curve after curve after curve.

It would be safe to assume that this particular guy might fall back after realizing I can’t remember his name or face after at least three meetings, but no… he texted me that night to ask how the rest of my evening was. I did not respond. I’ve never responded to him. I honestly don’t remember giving him my number. It was before I switched gears and only gave it out to men I honestly want to pursue me.

The last dude on my radar has been there for the past month. He started off ok. We seemed to be compatible despite what sounds like major indecisiveness for his life or career plan. I had to take everything he said with a grain of salt. He was ambitious but didn’t seem like he was ready to settle down, in result I was able to keep him at an arms distance away as far as my feelz go. Also, to be completely honest, I wasn’t sure how attracted to him I was. I was still deciding. That’s not a great sign to begin with. After our third time hanging out I called Law to tell him that this dude still has not attempted to kiss me, all he’s done is given me the weakest hugs I’ve ever experienced from a man. Huge fail on his part part, I need to see if we have chemistry, fast. 

I’m fully aware that I am a difficult woman to read. I have poor body language on dates. My personal space bubble is large. In the beginning I will never initiate holding your hand or giving you a kiss. Never. I’ll also laugh in your face and probably insult you on a few subjects. I’m terrible. BUT YOU SHOULD STILL TRY TO KISS ME BY USING YOUR BEST GAME… just sayin. 

Due to his lack of initiating physical contact I quickly started to find other reasons why I shouldn't continue seeing him. He's a Leo. I'm a Leo, that's not gonna fly, son. (I'm joking. Maybe.) I’ve begun the fade-away process. I haven’t initiated any texts. I’ve responded to all questions short and only to return the favor by asking the same question. I’m pulling all sorts of distancing moves, throwing curves—hard. 

I’ve been a victim of this shit. I also pull it.

I have a variety of bullshit answers I can provide in my defense. I realize I know what the right thing to do is, to be honest with these dudes and tell them I’m not interested. But have you ever sent that text? Have you ever lied and told them you could be friends, stay in touch or hang out?

I have. It’s too much truth and too many lies at the same time. I realize I don't have to give up the fake suggestions, but it sounds ultra cold without them. Remember my no new (platonic) friends post? Also, I'm a terrible liar.

So I get the ghosting… I get that the lack of response is a response is in itself. I completely agree that these are dick moves, but I'm a coward, just like most of the dating world.

I'll own up to it. Guilty as fuck.

I confess

I’m notorious for doing too much. I can’t sit still. I’m not pleased until I have my next trip in the planning stages or booked. I have slowly gained the unsavory reputation of going out more than I probably should.

My emotional outlook is brighter when I’m too busy to remember there is no one beside me as I go through the motions of life. 

I can’t tell if I’m either a fucking champ at being alone or if I super suck. That is my honest assessment of myself. I spent 11 years with a partner, these past 3 years have consisted of me struggling, adjusting, coping and also thriving. I haven’t forgotten that last part.

Everyone tells me that I should be able to be happy, solo. I am. Sometimes.

I hate to admit that I could be happier with the proper company, but I’m pretty sure I would be. I despise that I sound like a failure admitting that. My happiness is not based on the fact of whether I am in a relationship or not. It’s not. But I’m not allowed to admit that there is a huge chunk of something missing in my life preventing me from a level of happiness that I was once accustomed to.

It’s unfair. 

I’m not talking about having a man around to make me happy. I’m talking about lacking intimacy and a deep connection with another human being. I had it for 11 years of my adult life, I’m an analytical mother fucker. I know exactly what it is I am missing.

I’m extremely satisfied with my (solo) journey, but don’t make me feel guilty for wishing I had someone to share it with, because on most days… I do.

New x New x New

Every time this song comes on anywhere all my friends turn to me and I make my hands into the shape of a heart and I give them a few body rolls. This version is extra sexy tho...

s/o @producedbykrs follow: @charlieputh x @kehlanimusic

Quality Assurance Pt. 2

I was in New York when I realized many of my boys were the type to hug me so hard my feet left the ground and their lips made an audible sound when they kissed my cheek. I’ve mentioned this before, I’m an absolute sucker for a good kiss on the cheek, platonic or not. 

Sometimes I get caught up in the positive attention they provide that I start to think I’m fine with my co-pilot seat being empty, in little ways they all kind of take turns occupying it.

EXCEPT—they can’t provide D or dates. We all know for a fact I require D and dates, the co-pilot seat is always vacant at night.

They’re all watching though, waiting for the dude that earns the position.

Law calls me every week. Every. Week. He doesn’t believe in the precursory “You busy?” text. He just calls and we get stuck on the phone for an hour every time. I don’t talk to anyone on the phone these days unless someone is having some sort of emotional crisis, but homeboy likes to stay in touch the old fashioned way. The other day I thanked him for always checking up on me. He mentioned the day where I had a breakdown at work and he basically needed to escort me on a walk around the entire West Village until my crying ass calmed down. Then he got all protective and told me he never wants to hear me getting to that level of hurt ever again, that if he could prevent me from future fuckboy situations he can and will. Shucks man… 

I always randomly hit up Ryan for dude advice. The funny thing is I won’t take into consideration anyone else’s opinion until I get his perspective. Most of the time his advice is the same as everyone else’s, but I’ll only act upon it because he’s so level-headed and I see him as a green light. It’s always such simple questions too, “Yo should I text this dude?” He’ll tell me “yes,” just like everyone else did. He’ll also tell me I’m too good to chase after any man, that I should be the one pursued. Obviously, I agree with him 200%. Obviously.

Despite Ex-Mr fucking up extra-heavy with me he has a permanent spot on the panel of judges, whether I give him the seat or not. You have to understand our dynamic to comprehend this, not many people do. He’s a silent watchdog and despite all the bullshit we went through during our divorce we still genuinely want the best for the other person. Our wounds are sealed and healed now. Once in a while I’ll complain to him about a dude falling off (communication-wise) and he’ll tell me, “Let him, these dudes filter themselves out. Anyone who just ghosts doesn’t deserve you anyway.” I realize it’s ironic, hearing him say these types of things, but as I’ve explained… only the best.

I pride myself on having a very high sense of self-worth (maybe it’s too high) and I don’t necessarily seek validation from the opposite sex to confirm it, but I’m thankful for the men on my side—they make a girl feel special.

Now all I’m missing is D and dates… telling you. Jokes. 

Hotwire

Back in February I had a (super large) emotional meltdown after tanking an interview with an entire team panel at Hotwire. It was a follow-up and I was met with a barrage of questions of which I lacked technical knowledge on how to answer. I fumbled my way through the entire thing. I felt as though the team didn’t necessarily care about my skill set or design abilities, they wanted to find each hole in my knowledge base—and they did. They picked me apart and stripped me to my lowest vulnerable state. I was stuck in a room with numerous jackasses flexing their facts and expertise on me. Towards the end I felt personally attacked and lost all self-confidence. I really wanted the job too, it was a 6 month contract, well-paying and would've been a well-known brand to have in my portfolio.

I was barely out of the building lobby before hot tears ran down my face, embarrassed about my performance for what initially sounded like a clutch opportunity. I was clouded with self-doubt. I ended up calling three separate people, bawling out of control. Fortunately Rob was free and we drank my feelings. We drank all my fucking feelings.

The next day I woke up completely defeated, but not dead. I texted Melissa to meet me at a coffee shop so we could continue to dive into our job search. I ended up scouring multiple creative job search engines and researched just about every medium-large ad agency in San Francisco. I probably applied to 20+ positions that day (one being the job I have now).

I continued to have a shitty weekend, because I couldn’t shake the feelings of inadequacy when it came to my profession. I thought about everything from taking online courses to supplement my skills to applying for lower positions. A dark cloud followed me all the way until Monday morning when I checked my email. In my inbox I found a request for an interview with my  current company. The next day I met with the creative director of the Visa account (my boss) and he hired me on the spot after a 10 minute conversation about my experience and portfolio.

“We’d love to have you on the project if you’re available.” 
“Uhh. Is that it? Am I hired? Do I have the job?
“Yeah. It’s yours if you want it.”
“YES. I’D LOVE TO. THANKS!”

You know what I do at my company? 

The same exact fucking thing I would’ve done at Hotwire. No joke.

Lesson learned. In the end I came out with the better opportunity, with a better company culture fit and better pay—all better everything. Now every time something doesn’t seem to go my way I call it “Hotwire.”

All the fuckboys who sleep on a real chance with me? #Hotwire
All the "seemingly good" opportunities that turn to shit? #Hotwire
Everything I think I want, but don't get? #Hotwire

Hotwire. Hotwire. Hotwire. 

I know for a fact, there's something out there better than Hotwire.

Swimming

I’ve come to this stupid conclusion that single people just want to be single. They don’t want to be inconvenienced by the dating process. They don’t want to spend money or time on the opposite sex. They don’t want to get the feelz. They don’t want expectations or attachment or anything else that comes with a relationship. They just want sex, maybe sex and a few good times, nothing serious.

I’m some odd minority.

All I want to do is fucking fall in love again.

I’m still pretty damaged from my last (only) relationship (I still think any man interested in me romantically is going to change his mind at some point) however I’m ready to dive head first for the next dude who wants to meet me halfway. I’m frustrated that others haven’t dealt with as much as I have—yet aren’t willing to seek out the same.

TK says I’m brave for this, for losing it all and being ready to put my heart on the line again. It’s honestly no question for me… Love is the best high I’ve ever experienced. Fuck drugs, I’ll take love.

So I’m swimming in a pool of emotionally unavailable men, unwilling to even give me the proper time of day. Maybe I’m in the wrong pool? Maybe I need to start using dating sites where you actually have to pay? Nah, fuck that. 

I'll just keep swimming. I'm a strong swimmer anyways.

The Good

I want to be the person you reach out to first on your shittiest day, when you’re at the lowest of the low. I don’t wish these days upon you, I just want to be the one you run to.

Anyone can be there to celebrate your achievements. They can all smile and congratulate you after you appropriately cheers one another with shots in hand. Don’t worry—I’ll be present, buying the first round, naturally. 

But anyone can bask in the good times… I’ll take the bad too.

I’ll take the frustrated rapid-fire texts when plans fall through and situations get fucked up. I’ll take the disappointed sound in your voice when hopes are low and negativity is heavy in the air. I’ll accept all the pits and falls and ride out the emotional storms, next to you.

I’ll accept it all, because when things are bad I want to be the beacon of light—the good.

Hotline Bling 2.0

You used to call me on my cell phone... 

Cover of Drake's "Hotline Bling" with Charlie Puth available now! Download: http://smarturl.it/hotlinebling Stream: http://smarturl.it/hotlinebling_s

Dismal Forecast

I go through these odd dating cycles. I’m a programed machine and sometimes I don’t realize what I am doing until I’m already halfway through my process.

I attempt to “actively date” after the new year, at the beginning of summer and at the start of fall. The last undertake of the year is usually the most dismal. There’s too much pressure, it’s cuffing season. Obviously nothing has ever worked out for me.

I’m already throwing in the towel this year. I’m preparing myself for another sad season.

El Niño and the holidays are on their way. I’m eternally fucked. Do you know what that means? It will be raining cats and dogs and I will be solo, in my underwear, watching whatever Hulu show I have yet to complete, probably eating mac n cheese. I will be going through IG liking all of your photos with you and your boo’s and your little ones around a turkey and then a Christmas tree. Meanwhile I’ll just be curled up, solo, trying to convince myself that not every holiday season will be spent all by my lonesome.

I’m already hypothetically sobbing.

This could all change tomorrow, right, or maybe next week? October? Possibly Nov? Whenever it’s supposed to happen—it’s not happening soon enough.

The trap remix of the tiny violins won’t STFU. Make them stop.

THIS

I know I have a problem with corny behavior. I think it's soft and weak and it makes me want to yak. But I just want someone to look at me at the same way I look at my dish as the server takes it out the the kitchen.

Like how Aubrey has this GOOOOFY ass smile after him and Serena catch eyes.

Did you see the little shoulder tilt? Shit. I'll take a little bit of corny, we can work up my tolerance.

Exis

Canada tho. I fuck with Canadians HARD. <3