Insomnia is a biiiiiiiiiitch. Published at 5:15 am.
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Whenever I give away my IG handle to men they always have some sort of comment. They laugh and look at me with “Really???” plastered all over their faces. Never fail.
I have to explain to them: “It’s a reference to the Mary J. Blige & Method Man song, ‘You’re all I need.’”
In the first verse Meth spits:
“Nothing make a man feel better than a woman
Queen with a crown that be down for whatever”
Sure, I’m self-proclaimed, but the second portion of that last line is the truth.
I have a hard time refusing peer pressure. When I get together with a few people in particular *AHEM*COUGH,* it is a dangerous combination of people egging each other on with no one to say: “Hey guys, maybe this isn’t a good idea.” We convince each other to take shots, take vacations and visit each other on the other side of the country. When we reunite my wallet hurts, my liver suffers and they haze the hell out of me. I wouldn’t have it any other way. Our “fuckit attitudes” are all on some inflated level when we’re together.
Ex-Mr still refers to me as a DAB. As a wife I was down for anything. I could be exhausted from work but if he had free tickets to a freeeeezing Giants game at At&t, I was there, every time. If at any point in our relationship he was about to get into a fight, I was there. I would either be talking him down or ready to stab the opposition in the face. Whatever the fuck he wanted / needed / dreamt about—I was ready to provide it. Down ass bitch. He’s an idiot for letting me go. It’s alright, he knows it.
If I have no real reasons to turn down an invitation, I have the most difficult time declining. This is particularly pronounced for life in NYC. I'm very much open to broadening my horizons and being exposed to different types of people and experiences here. This is a huge change for me because pre-divorce I was very closed-off. Sidenote: If I have absolutely no interest in what you just invited me to, I will refuse. I still consider my time valuable. I turn down invitations to go to yoga all the time. I fucking hate yoga, with a passion.
Lastly, I have a tattoo that translates to “Remember to Live” along my left rib cage. Joanne says I basically have “YOLO” in latin permanently on me. If that does’t signify “down for whatever” I’m not sure what does…