On Valentine's Day
I was just flipping through my calendar when, to my utter horror, I realized that Valentine's Day (i.e., the worst holiday ever to grace the Earth) is exactly two weeks from today.
This will be my first Valentine's Day without a boyfriend since 2002. This is a problem for a variety of reasons. First of all, I'm lonely, and my lonliness will be compunded infinitely by all the lovey-doveyness going on this Feb. 14th.
Secondly, I freakin' love getting flowers...I mean I LIVE for getting flowers. I pretend to be this independent feminist woman and all, but flowers are my weakness. I love being a girly girl and getting a big bouquet of roses from my boyfriend just for the hell of it. And it's always been a secret wish of mine to have someone do something really romantic...like take me to a bed and breakfast and surprise me with flower petals on the bed. I know it may not seem like much, but it has yet to happen for me.
This brings me to my third reason...I always put so much stock in this stupid holiday. Especially when I have a boyfriend, my expectations are just too high. I'm always wanting the fairy tale, and I never get it. I'm positive I won't get it this year, with no relationship or boyfriend to speak of. Back in high school when I was single, I contented myself with fantasies of some secret admirer surprising me on Valentine's Day. But again, this has yet to happen for me.
I guess I've had some good Valentine's Days, but my memories of them have more to do with disappointment than romantic evenings. Let's take a journey through the Ghosts of V-Days past:
2000: My first V-Day with a real boyfriend. I was expecting so much from my high school boyfriend that I practically told him to surprise me with roses at my house before school. He did just that, but I wasn't really surprised since...duh, I pretty much told him to do it. Little did I know, this was just the beginning of my V-Day issues.
2001: My first V-Day with my college boyfriend. It was actually one of my better V-Days. He brought me a single rose in the morning, then another in the middle of the day, and one more in the evening. He showed up dressed to the nines and led me back to his dorm room, where he cooked a nice dinner. It was a delicious and cute, low-key evening.
2002: My friend Steve was nice enough to invite my two roommates and me--all single--out to dinner. We dressed up and went out to Olive Garden or some similar place, and I think he bought us dinner. However, as I remember it, I think I also complained (in my head, of course) about how he should've brought chocolate or at least a rose for each of us.
2003: I'm back with my college boyfriend (the one from 2001). Earlier in the day, my roommate's boyfriend drops off a huge bouquet of flowers. It's gorgeous, and I can't wait to get my own. My boyfriend comes from work later with a small bouquet of roses, and proceeds to tell me that he got them from a street vendor on his way home. These roses so paled in comparison to my roommate's that I acted like a compelete brat for the next few days. I even cried.
2004: This was supposed to be a great V-Day. Still with the college bf, I decided to do something special and made reservations at a cute bed and breakfast in Rochelle, Va. I was already unhappy because I thought he (being the guy) was supposed to plan the day.
Anyway, I woke up on V-Day with no sign of flowers from K--this after I had complained for an entire year about the street vendor flowers. I threw a total tantrum and went into high hysterics. I cried on his bed and went to sleep until he brought some flowers back. Of course, after all that, they still didn't measure up.
So, after I calmed down, we drove to the countryside B and B. It was adorable, and that evening he took me out to a field and gave me these gold heart-shaped earrings, which matched a necklace he had given me years earlier. We also found this great restaurant and had an pretty expensive meal complete with wine and even fondue. I felt like the most ungrateful girlfriend ever.
2005: Last year wasn't so bad. I was with the boyfriend still, and he agreed to take me out to one of my favorite (and very expensive) restaurants, 2941. We were running a little late, but we dressed up and made it in time. Dinner was exquisite. We had a seven-course meal and I loved every bit of it. We even had a nice bottle of $90 wine, and K ended up dropping a lot of money that night. Oh, and he bought me a big bouquet of flowers in a real vase from a real store. Finally.
To sum up: I am what many people would call A HIGH-MAINTENANCE VALENTINE'S DAY BITCH. I expect far more than any guy has been willing (or creative enough) to give. While I don't expect a guy to spend much money on me, I do want something that shows that he really cares...something unique and different from the norm.
Despite the fact that I know it's just a money machine manufactured by the likes of Hallmark, Valentine's Day seems to mean something to me. I think I just want one day to be treated like a princess. Seriously, don't we all deserve that for one itty-bitty day a year?*Postscript: After thinking about these past experiences, I realize that I should just be happy with whatever V-Day 2006 brings. I don't need the attention of a guy to make or break me. If something nice happens, I'll be grateful, and if something doesn't, I'll be satisfied, too.
I'm sick of life
This happens to me sometimes. I'll be cruising along just fine and then all of a sudden I hit a rough spot.
I am feeling so unmotivated. Nothing excites me. I have nothing to look forward to. The things that should make me happy...don't. To put it simply, I just don't care enough to
care. About anything...
School should be fun, but it's stressing me out right now.
I haven't woken up on time or slept straight through the night in two weeks. I'm always tired.
Work is just a place I go to be. My strong dis-interest in it is draining me.
I don't bother making my hair look nice anymore. It's been many days since I straightened it or even wore it down.
I don't see my friends. In fact, I am barely communicating with them.
I've stopped taking my cell phone with me everywhere I go. Because honestly, no one ever calls.
Food has lost its allure. I haven't been indulging in anything I like, and my appetite has definitely diminished (good because maybe I'll lose weight, but bad because...you know, I love food, normally).
And here's the really scary part: I don't even care about my TV shows. There is not one single show that I must watch...and if I miss it, so what?
I don't know why I get this way sometimes. Obviously, with my dad getting sick, it's been a tough year. But there's more to this than that. I've seen this pattern before.
Sometimes I just get sad, and there's nothing anyone can do about it but me. Since I've never been a positive thinker, I must content myself with the fact that this too shall pass.
You know that sinking feeling you get when you hit a big pothole in your car and it jerks and makes a horrible sound? Well, I just fell in the big pothole of life. And it's really jagged and ugly and it totally just threw my alignment all to hell.
My cringe-worthy past
I first started dating during my last year or so of high school (yes, I was a late bloomer in that sense). At first, I was completely scared and clueless. However, I somehow gained enough confidence--or maybe it was naivete--to make some bold moves on guys.
As I think back on it now, these moves weren't so much bold as completely ridiculous. I was so NOT smooth. In fact, I bordered on needy and desperate. Here are just a few examples that I still cringe just thinking about:
1) The video store hook-upThere was this guy who really liked one of my friends. He started talking to me just to get to her, and when she refused him he decided he liked me. At first I was appalled, but then my natural insecurity set in and I began to enjoy the attention. Plus, I'd had only one boyfriend at that point and was ready for more "experience."
The guy--who was more of a "bad boy" and not my type at all--worked at a video store near our high school. I started to visit him there, and we first kissed at my car after one of my store visits. That day as I drove away, I immediately start worrying about how the kiss was. I hadn't had much kissing experience, and I didn't want him to think I was a bad kisser.
So I did exactly what I shouldn't have done:
I called him not even 10 minutes after the kiss took place, and proceeded to tell him that a) I was happy we kissed, and b) I hadn't kissed anyone in a while so I may have been out of practice. Seriously, I did this. It was quite possibly the most pathetic action I could have taken in that situation. Talk about sending the wrong messages.
Of course this whole "relationship"--which
only took place in the video store and included no actual dates at all--went nowhere. I eventually decided I didn't want to date him because he was settling for me when he really liked my friend. But seriously, I'm not sure he would have wanted a girl who engaged in cheap, tame video store hook-ups and then assualted him with her neediness anyway. Oh, and after I "rejected" him, we "hated" each other for a little while. High school. Ugh.
2) The car kissFor some reason, I began liking one of my neighbors. He'd lived there forever, but one day my good friend and I decided he was super hot. We started talking to him and hanging out with him every so often. Eventually, though, he and I would just talk on the phone without actually seeing one another. So I'd do really dumb stuff like pretend to get the mail when I knew he'd be driving past on his way home. I was such a stalker (and still am, for the record--watch out).
So one day he told me about the great new Pontiac his parents bought. I wanted to see it, and he told me he'd be on his way out (or was it in?) so I could go outside and meet him in front of my house. I went, of course, and waited on the stoop until he drove up. I ran across the lawn to the car, and hopped in. We sat there awkwardly talking, when all of a sudden I get this burst of insane cockiness.
Right there in his car pulled over on the side of the road in front of my house (with my parents inside and able to look out at any moment),
I ask him straight out if I can kiss him."Can I kiss you?" I say.
"It's up to you," he says.
"No, a kiss takes two people," I cockily reply.
I guess he said yes or something, because we did kiss. I thought I was real smooth. Oh, and it gets better... I think I may have told him his lips were soft afterward.
Can you guess what happened after that? I hopped out of the car, he went on his way to wherever he was going, and we never hung out again. I was a total loser. The end.
3) The e-mail emergencyI had plenty of crushes in high school, but there was one that I felt I should act on. I didn't act on it in a normal way, of course, by flirting and trying to get to know the guy. No, I e-mailed him. Anonymously.
I sent out a secret admirer-type e-mail explaining that I liked him and giving little hints. He seemed very intrigued (and was probably a little scared), but he kept e-mailing me back and asking questions. It went on for maybe a week or so until I finally tripped up.
I accidentally sent him an e-mail from my non-anonymous account...the one with my full name in the "from" field.
I really wish I still had that horrible e-mail trail, but I erased it in utter humiliation, so I'll recount from memory here. He wrote something like, "Oh, I didn't know it was you." I responded by saying how sorry I was and how ridiculous I felt. He assured me that I had nothing to worry about, but he never came out and said he liked me back. We started talking in class for a little while afterward, but nothing else ever came of it.
Even if he had liked me before, my crazy stalking definitely scared him off. I'm sure he told a bunch of his friends about it too. It's a wonder that I actually ever landed a boyfriend in high school.
So, the point of all this is...I would never do any of this stuff now. I wouldn't do it because I've learned to value myself more and to have some class when it comes to guys. I guess in a way I've learned to play the "game"--to refrain from putting my vulnerability out there.
But in another way, I haven't learned anything at all. Back then, I at least had some guts. I could tell a guy I liked him, and I could ask a guy for a kiss. I could do things that I am now absolutely terrified of doing. Maybe it's because I'm older and wiser, or maybe it's because I'm so jaded, but I'm afraid to put myself on the line like that now.
I may have been a naive and sometimes desperate 18-year-old, but at least I wasn't afraid of rejection.
So, girls, anyone got any stories as cringe-worthy as these? Please assure me that I wasn't the only loser on the planet in high school.
I have a problem
Well, two problems...
1) I am obsessed with reading my own writing. I swear, in every other way I'm completely self-depracating and insecure, but as a writer, I'm a complete narcissist. One of my favorite activities is to go back and read my blog entries, chuckling at how clever I am. Yeah, it's sad.
2) I am also obsessed with the new Jason Mraz song,"Geek in the Pink." I have been listening to it on repeat all day, as I am wont to do with songs I love. But let me tell you, the lyrics are HOT. He's just so damn cocky and confident in this song, and his voice is so damn smooth. He's all talking about how he could be "the one to take you home, the one to turn you out."
Yes, please, Jason, turn
me out. DO IT. I want you.
Okay, three problems...
3) I'm so pasty white that I am turning translucent. I look like death. I try to compensate by putting on lots of blush, but then I just look like the Clown of Death (hmm, idea for a good horror movie?). It's scary.
Real problem update: My dad is home from the hospital now, and is on his way to recovery. We're still waiting for test results, but I'm feeling like we'll be getting good news.
A Lauren Morning
E-mail I received today from K, my no-longer boyfriend (I don't like the word "ex"):
Subject: A Lauren morning......So I rolled over and looked at my alarm clock. 9:04 AM. I was in disbelief. I looked at my mobile and realized I wasn’t dreaming. I got ready for work and drove like a bat out of h3ll. Made it here before 10. I definitely thought of you. KIn a word: HAHAHAHAHAHAHA. This is quite possibly one of the best e-mails I have ever received, because he's just SO dead on with his analysis. The only difference between K's "Lauren morning" and a real morning in my life is that when I wake up past 9 am, I don't even bother trying to salvage the day. I just close my eyes and let it ride.
I am notorious for sleeping in on a regular basis. I've been doing it all my life. Without fail, if something important is going on, I'll attempt to sleep through it. In high school, when I had people coming over for a group project, the doorbell usually woke me up.
In college, when I had a presentation to give for my final linguistics project, I woke up after class had already started.
Fire alarm going off? No problem, I'm still sleeping.
I've perfected the art of rationalizing in order to catch a few more winks of sleep. It's a breeze for me to wake up late and start thinking wildly of some excuse that precludes me from actually getting out of bed. I love the feeling of rolling back over into a deep slumber, with not a care in the world.
I simply love sleeping. And nobody knows that better than K.
In college, he was the one who brought me lunch when I spent all day sleeping in his loft, skipping three classes in a row. If I had class before 1 pm, I couldn't make it there. I actually counted once, and I skipped my 10 am Italian class more times than I
went to class. I ended up with a B for the semester...pretty damn good for a chronic skipper.
Now that I'm in the real world, I still have this problem. Every so often, I have a day where I can only force my eyes open long enough to shoot off an e-mail or a phone call to the office. Sleeping in is just a vital part of my survival.
Thanks for the e-mail, K. You made me smile, and that's something I really need right now.
Worrying is my specialty
I can't concentrate.
I can't sleep.
I can't do anything.
I've always been a worrier, but lately my anxiety has taken on astronomical proportions. Obviously, finding out that your dad is really sick will do that to you. My life has been interrupted and it hasn't yet bounced back. How do I bounce back from something like this?
How do I sit at work when my dad is at the hospital wincing as he gets out of bed so that he can get his strength up? When he is all alone in that dark, sterile room with nurses taking his blood and checking him constantly?
How do I go on with my normal routine when I've been at the hospital for hours on end, day in and day out? When I know more about that hospital than I'd ever want to know and more about it than what's going on at work?
How do I go to class when I could be visiting my dad and keeping my mom company? When at any moment we could get the call about his test results?
How do I live when everything is hanging in the balance?
Thinking of all these things I have to do just makes me tired. I have plenty to do at work, but I'm not doing it. I have to go to class tonight, but I'm not looking forward to it. I had to get up this morning, but it took every ounce of self control I had not to roll back over and call in sick.
I dread human interaction. I just can't stomach having to be pleasant and polite and chipper right now. Not when there's this war raging inside me.
I want to be in one of two places: My bed, sleeping for 24 hours straight, or the hospital, being with my family.
I belong no where else.
My Worst Nightmare
It's completely amazing how your life can change in one single instant.
When I wrote my last post at around 5:30 pm on Monday, I was worried about a few things...
The car getting fixed
The money to pay for the car
What to wear on a "date"
Some stuff I was doing at work
Classes starting
Missing my ex
Right after my Monday post, I took my dad to the urgent care clinic for bad stomach pains. No big deal, I thought. My mom even had chicken soup cooking on the stove for when we got back so she could nurse him back to health.
No one touched the chicken soup.
We ended up at the hospital emergency room until 3 a.m., when my dad got admitted for a blockage in his colon. It could have been anything, but the doctors dropped the unspeakable word: cancer.
Immediately, fear gripped me.
But I still knew there was a chance that this would turn out okay...that this didn't have to end in the worst possible way. I didn't allow myself to believe anything until we knew for sure. I kept a positive outlook, and I thought that would be enough.
It wasn't.
Tuesday, January 17, 2006 is a date I will never forget. It was the day my dad was diagnosed with colon cancer.
At first, I couldn't cry. I couldn't speak. All I could do was stare at the doctor open-mouthed in complete shock. As my mom put it, it's like being run over by a cement truck. It's pain. Fear. Disbelief. So many emotions all at once with one single thought at their center: This can't actually be happening to
my family.
I don't have the strength or the ability right now to get into details, but things are looking okay so far. After all the bad news, we seem to be on a more positive track. But we're still waiting to see if the cancer has spread. And we need all the prayers and hopes we can get.
Right before going in to surgery yesterday, my dad said "My daughters aren't even grown up. I'm not done yet." And he's right...we still need him. Our family needs him. He is part of us, and we are part of him, and we're not ready to let him go. He's our dad...our "Popskers," and we love him so much.
Because, really, what is my life without him? It's
not my life. I still feel like I'm looking down at someone else's family. It's surreal.
These past four days have been the longest of my life. But we're going to be dealing with this new challenge for years to come. And from now on, I'll look at everything differently. My entire world has been placed in perspective. It has changed forever.
Look at what I was worried about before...
My car? Don't care.
My clothes? Don't care.
My job? Don't care.
My classes ? Don't care.
Being lonely? Don't care.
But now? My family is all I care about.
And we're going to get through this together.PS: If you're someone who knows me in "real" life, and I hadn't yet told you this news, I apologize for the shock. It's been an insane couple of days and I haven't been able to readily talk about this. However, writing it here has been very therapeutic and I am on my way to acceptance.
Looking forward, looking back
It's the little things that remind me of him.
A U2 song on the radio.
A package of Jambalaya instant rice in the pantry.
A red Saab zipping by.
A picture.
A word.
A thought.
On days like today, it's everything, really.
I miss him most when I'm sitting at home being lazy. We used to be lazy together. We would curl up on the couch and watch Lifetime all day. Or we'd make a leisurely Blockbuster run and come back with six pre-viewed movies to watch together.
We loved buying movies. We loved walking around Target for two hours and looking at every single thing...the toy cars, the electronics, the furniture. We'd deliberate over everything from vacuum cleaners to plasma TVs, but in the end we'd just come back with some DVDs and a peppermint patty or two.
We enjoyed being together. Sometimes I forget how much we enjoyed each other. But some little thing always jumps out and reminds me what I'm missing. Today, for instance, I finally unpacked my digital camera, and there he was. There were a bunch of pictures on it that I'd forgotton about...pictures from when we were still together.
There we were in Canada.
K and his dad lounging in the water.
His parents at their cottage.
And then we were back on his boat in DC.
K posing proudly at the dock.
Me in a candid on one of our "nature walks."
It was strange to look at those photos--ones I hadn't seen since the break-up occurred. It was a glimpse of us at another time. And that glimpse helped me fully realize that so much is behind us now. We can look back on everything and feel sad (that's only natural), but we can't ever look back with regret, and most importantly, we can't ever
go back.
The future is ahead. Sure, I can miss him all I want, but that won't change anything. And now I know that it
shouldn't change anything. My life changed when he came into it, and it's changed just as profoundly now that he's gone.
And both times, those were changes for the better.
My World
What's goin' on in my world right now?
Let's see...
1) The
car fix is costing even more than I thought. Are you ready for this, folks? It's almost $2,500. Yes, that's more than a thousand, more than TWO thousand, in fact. Wow. And I'm usually such a cheap-ass with money too. To think of everything I could buy with this much money just blows my mind.
Honestly, to a person my age, that's a lot of money. Sure, I have it. But I can't just drop that much and feel okay about it. I don't have lots to spare, especially not thousands. I'm still considering whether to use insurance or not, but either way I've screwed myself. Again.
Maybe I should just become a hermit and stay in the house. Then at least I'd stop sabotaging myself. Oh, who am I kidding, I could screw myself anywhere. I'm sure I'd end up hobbling around the house running in to walls and breaking bones and such.
2) Since the car is in the shop, I have no way to get to work, so my wonderful and generous boss is allowing me to
work from home for a few days. This working at home thing is...interesting. I admit it does take a lot of discipline, and so far I'm impressed with myself.
Currently, I am propped up on my bed with my fluffy pillows behind me and my laptop on my lap (how appopriate) listening to some tunes without the added headache of headphones. My TV is just a few feet away and yet I've resisted the urge to turn it on. I'm trying to create a decent work environment here, after all.
I do wish I could do this all the time. I'm so much more relaxed at home in my sweats and a t-shirt, with no make-up on and my hair thrown casually back in a ponytail. One would think that this uber-relaxed state would make me less inclined to work, but in actuality I'm so grateful for this situation that I'm bent on increasing my work output. I am determined to prove that I can work from home in a responsible and successful fashion. Now let me just go get a snack, pet the dog and play some Nintendo, and then I'll get right back down to business. Haha, just kidding.
3) I'm going to a bridal "trunk show" this weekend with one of my best friends. I'm really excited for my first foray into the world of
wedding planning. I, like probably every other girl, have always dreamed of a perfect wedding. There's something fantastical about it. So for now, I will live vicariously through everyone else until it's my turn. And don't worry, I'm not saying I want to get married any time soon, I just want to have a
wedding.
Unfortunately I haven't figured out a way to have one without the other. Foiled again!
4) Lately I've been thinking about this blog and who reads it, and I've been wishing I had preserved my
anonymity a little better. I don't mind revealing my personal life to people, but I do mind when I know exactly who I'm revealing to.
You see, one day I casually mentioned to my dad that I had a blog. Well, he pretty much annoyed me until I told him the link. I'm not sure he even reads it, but nonetheless it's always in the back of my mind that he could. So I naturally censor myself, which kind of sucks. It's not like have very many sordid details to reveal anyway, but still, I think I shy away from specific topics.
In addition, my ex is an avid reader of the blog (hello there, K, I'm sure you're reading this right now). This is also kind of an odd situation. Being single now, I have an inclination to regale you all with my pursuit of the opposite sex, but with K as an audience, I feel uncomfortable doing so. You see, we agreed not to tell one another if we start dating again. Well, if I can't tell him, and he reads the blog, then I guess I can't tell the blog either.
Maybe I need a new blog with a new address so that I can escape all that I know and be thrust in to the world of obscurity. What do you all think?
It's just a car...
I must keep telling myself that. It is a machine. An inanimate object. It doesn't do anything except sit there and let me drive it. It's ONLY a car.
So why am I so upset?
On my way in to the parking garage this morning, I ran into one of those big, square support poles. I mean, I really
ran into it. I scraped up the whole entire rear passenger door, along with denting it and warping it. My side sill is also hanging down precariously on one side like it is trying to escape the ugly mess I've created.
When I got out of the car to survey the damage, I actually kept myself composed. I kept saying, "It can be fixed, it can be fixed." But when I came inside I made a beeline for the bathroom with my cell phone, and broke down in to tears--the first time I have ever cried at work in my entire life.
It looks horrible, it's all my fault, it's so unbelievably unnecessary. And from the looks of it, it's going to be a very expensive repair.
I just didn't need this right now, ya know? My life was actually going okay. I was feeling happier. I was being more social. I was watching less TV. But now I've got
this to weigh me down. Now I am feeling self-depracating all over again.
I just am so angry at myself. And I'm scared, too. You see, I have this eye problem. Long story short, my eyes don't really move together all the time, so I have horrible depth perception. My driving ability aside, I know this problem has most likely contributed to many of my car accidents because they always occur with something in my peripheral vision.
In this case, for instance, the pole was on the right side, which is the eye that does not have much peripheral mobility. My other most recent car conundrum, when I hit a nasty curb, also occurred on my right side.
I've also had my share of accidents on the left side...this is because my left eye, while having full mobility, has really bad vision. Now I've got glasses for that, but before I had them, I had to turn my head at an extreme angle past where I would normally hold it just to see clearly on my left. This is my explanation for the great school bus incident of 2000. I won't go in to details here, but I was trying to change lanes on the left, I turned my head too much, and I didn't see the school bus stop in front of me. And I hit it.
Sounding scary yet? The worst part is...what can I do about this? I have to keep driving. I have no other option. I guess I just need to exercise more caution in the future. But I don't really know how to avoid these things from happening because they just
happen. One minute I'm fine and the next I'm running into something.
And now my car, my poor beautiful car, is ruined. Sure, it'll get fixed. But that doesn't change the fact that I did this to it. I disfigured it. It's going to need new body parts and new paint. And I'll probably be out over a grand. Lovely. Great way to save money. Go me.
Just this morning, one of the guys working in our yard referred to my car as "that little yellow racecar." It filled me with such a sense of pride. Because I love my car. I really do. I love it, and I'm proud of it.
But I guess that's the problem. I shouldn't be so attached to a machine. I shouldn't want to cry when I think about it all wounded in its parking space in the cold garage.
After all, no one was hurt.
The car will be fixed.
And hopefully, so will I...as long as I remember that it's just a car.
Ode to My Glasses
(PS I love writing odes about stupid things, so get used to it)
Oh, beautiful glasses,
you are so pretty.
You make me look smart.
You make me feel witty.
I never thought
you'd make me feel this way.
I always thought
I'd cast you off in a day.
But now I know,
that you're not half-bad.
In fact, I can't bear to part with you,
lest I become blind (and sad).
And I think, what did I do
before you came on the scene?
Did I just walk around
bumping into beams?
You give me the ability
to see, to read, to drive,
better than ever before,
I'm so grateful you've arrived.
But one more thing
before we go...
I also love the way you look.
I love to put you on show.
You kind of make me appear
like a sexy schoolteacher,
like a smarter version of myself.
You bring out my best feature.
Oh, darling DKNY's,
thanks for all you've done.
It's only been a few weeks,
but you and I have sure had fun!
Me in my new bling-blings
Okay, but seriously? I really do love my new glasses. I was so nervous about getting them because I thought I'd feel stupid wearing them. But as it turns out, I like the way they enhance my image. They are almost like an accessory to my look. I look older, I look smarter, and I feel more sophisticated.
Plus, I can see! I can recognize people when I look at them. I can change lanes without fear of running into large yellow vehicles. And I can read things even before they're one inch from my face.
I had only planned to wear the glasses sometimes, like while driving or in meetings. But I wear them all the time, from morning to night. I can't bear to go back to the land of the un-seeing and the un-sophisticated.
My glasses become part of my identity, and that's fine by me.
Have I grown up?
I know it's lame to post forwards, but I think you'll find this one entertaining. My good friend sent it to me today. Let's see if I've really grown up (my comments are in bold)...
25 ways to tell if you have finally grown up1. Your houseplants are alive, and you can't smoke any of them.
No, actually my plants are all dying. But they died in college too...I remember when my bonsai lost all its leaves and I had to nurse it back to health. No growing up points here.2. Having sex in a twin bed is out of the question.
So true. And doing it in a twin-sized, rickety loft is really out of the question. +13. You keep more food than beer in the fridge.
Yep, no more wine coolers stacked up in there anymore. +14. 6:00 AM is when you get up, not when you go to bed.
I get up at 7:30 am, but same difference. I could never stay up until 6 anymore. +15. You hear your favorite song in an elevator.
All the freakin' time! I love those elevator compilations of Britney songs. +16. You watch the Weather Channel.
Um, yeah, how will I know what to wear to work or if I need extra time to de-ice my car? And I love those Storm Stories shows. +17. Your friends marry and divorce instead of "hook up" and "breakup."
Yes, I currently have three engaged friends. +18. You go from 130 days of vacation time to 14.
Don't even remind me. I miss summer vacations. +19. Jeans and a sweater no longer qualify as "dressed up."
Yep, jeans and a sweater won't cut it on a normal work day. +110. You're the one calling the police because those stupid kids next door won't turn down the stereo.
Those damn kids and their music. We let them slide at the apartment because we knew we'd need to make noise at least one rare day a year when we had a party. +111. Older relatives feel comfortable telling sex jokes around you.
Yes, sex has now become a socially acceptable topic of conversation. +112. You don't know what time Taco Bell closes anymore.
No freakin' clue. Or Waffle House, for that matter. +113. Your car insurance goes down and your car payments go up.
Yeah, I didn't used to have payments or insurance. Now I got both, but I also have a kick-ass car that is all MINE. +114. You feed your dog/cat Science Diet instead of McDonald's leftovers.
I don't have a dog of my own (it's a family dog) and never did. And I'd never feed it fast food. No points here.15. Sleeping on the couch makes your back hurt.
I can pretty much sleep anywhere. And, shhh, I still kind of like sleeping on the couch.16. You take naps from noon until 6PM.
Totally. I could sleep forever. +117. Dinner and a movie is the whole date instead of the beginning of one.
It's been so long since I've been on a date that I don't think this applies to me.18. Eating a basket of chicken wings at 3 AM would severely upset, rather than settle, your stomach.
Yeah, or as it used to be for us, eating Domino's buffalo wings at 3 am in the dorm lobby. Ew. +119. If you're a girl, you go to the drug store for ibuprofen and antacid, not condoms and pregnancy tests.
Hahaha, I never bought those things in the first place. I am a good girl.20. A $4.00 bottle of wine is no longer "pretty good stuff."
Actually, even a $2 bottle is still acceptable to me. Hello, Boone's Farm and Arbor Mist!21. You actually eat breakfast food at breakfast time.
Yes, I always eat a full breakfast at breakfast. Can't start my day without it. The days of Waffle House at midnight are over. +122. "I just can't drink the way I used to..." replaces "I'm never going to drink that much again."
Yeah, pretty much. I rarely ever drink at all (although, when I do, I am kind of impressed with my tolerance, which has somehow stuck with me over the years). +123. 90% of the time you spend in front of a computer is for real work.
Yeah, especially when I'm in school. +124. When you find out your friend is pregnant you congratulate her instead of asking "Oh, man--What Happened!?!?!?!
Haha, this hasn't happened yet, so I can't give myself any points.25. You read this entire list looking desperately for one sign that doesn't apply to you and can't find one to save your sorry old butt. Then you forward it to a bunch of old pals & friends 'cause you know they'll enjoy it & do the same!!
I guess I am forwarding it by posting it here, so one last point for me. +1Let's total it up. Out of 25 possible points, I have scored 18. So I have more than halfway grown up. How depressing.
I really miss the days when throwing water balloons was the most important thing on my schedule, when I could wake up at 1 pm every day just in time for my soap operas, and when I never had to buy my own alcohol.
Ah, college. How I miss ye.
Shit shit shit
I NEED HELP.
UW (my unwanted advancer--you
must know who he is
by now) is back. He came by my cube earlier and we chatted awkwardly as usual. Then my phone rang and my caller ID showed it was him. I didn't answer, and congratulated myself on avoiding a potential "situation."
But, alas, I cannot escape. He came back to my cube and asked me to do something with him. Outside of work, of course. For the second time in two months and for the what seems like the millionth time since I've started working with him.
So, he asked me to go to the 9:30 club with him Saturday night to see his friend's band play. Immediately, I am nice in my response, despite all my instincts. Here's the train wreck as it occurred, with my comments in bold. Keep in mind that I do not like this guy romantically and am not interested in dating him.
UW: "It'll be fun. You can get out."
Me: "Yeah, I never go out."
Idiot! Why did I say that?!?UW: "Do you listen to No Doubt?"
Me: "Yeah."
Stop egging him on!UW: "The band's kind of like that. It's ska."
Me: "Oh, I like ska."
What is wrong with meeee?UW: "Yeah, it'll be a blast."
Me: "Well, I'm not sure, but I'll let you know. I have your number."
Oh, great, now he expects you to call him.UW: "Okay, yeah, just let me know. I'm meeting some of my other friends there."
Does he want me to meet his friends? This is bad.Me: "Okay, I'll let you know."
UW: "Okay, just let me know."
Um, calm down buddy. Me: "OKAY."
Awkward silence. And then he leaves.
Alright, so I know I handled this situation completely wrong. I was way too nice and even
encouraging. What the hell? Well, I think the problem is that for a moment there, I actually considered accepting his invitation. I've been so darn lonely. And I guess it made me feel good to be asked to do something. But when I think about it, I know that this would be a stupid move. Because I do not want a romantic relationship with UW. And I think that is what he expects.
Now the problem is that I have to somehow get out of this. But how? I need advice. Major advice.
Or maybe I should just suck it up and go with him? Can someone please let me know what they think? I've asked for advice from y'all before, and no one's given it, but it's an EMERGENCY this time, guys. Please, please just come out of obscurity for a few minutes and help me out. I'd appreciate it immensely.
Bridget Jones had it right...
I read the ever-so-popular chick lit book,
Bridget Jones's Diary, a couple years ago when it had just come on the scene. Back then, I never could quite understand Bridget's strong disdain for "smug marrieds"--her term for married couples and just couples in general. But now I realize I didn't understand it because I
was one of those couples, and so were all my friends. I was surrounded by coupledom, and it suited me.
But now that I'm single, I totally get it. Bridget had a damn good point. The problem with couples is that it's nearly impossible for them to co-exist with singles. It's like apples and oranges. Couples and singles don't mix. How not fun is it to go to a movie--or even worse, dinner--with your couple friends? Sure, they can tell you how happy they are to have you there all they want, but that doesn't change the fact that you're just the third (or even the fifth) wheel.
Now, my problem is that I've suddenly switched categories. There I was, at the height of my coupledom, enjoying being with all of my couple friends, when suddenly I was thrown out of the mix. Now I'm the only single out of my group. And I find that it's a difficult transition because I've got almost no single friends.
It's not that I can't hang out with my coupled friends now, it's that it's harder to hang out with them. They've got built-in companions in their boyfriends, and I've got...well, no one. I think sometimes the smug marrieds of the world don't realize how lonely we singles can get. They take the fact that they have an insta-companion for granted. And in that kind of a relationship, it's easy to forget about other people. Heck, I know I was guilty of it when I was coupled up.
What's even more frightening is that a bunch of my couple friends are now
engaged. One after another, they're dropping out of the single world forever. They're all taking this new step forward, and it scares me. I mean, obviously I'm thrilled for them and I'm so excited that they've found happiness with someone. But on the other hand, I'm being left behind. When they're married, I'm
really going to be in a different category. Heck, we'll even have to check different boxes on our tax forms--me single, them married.
And I know what's going to happen too. I know their husbands will have to come first. That's the way it is, right? Once you've got a husband, he is everything. You have your own little family, and your friends become less to you. They might not mean less, but you definitely don't need them in the same way.
I really just don't want to lose my friends. Maybe that's why I'm scared.
Or maybe I'm scared because I'm so alone.
Or maybe, just maybe, I'm finally realizing what it means to be married--to spend the rest of your life with one person and to value that person above others. And I wonder when it'll ever happen for me. And I wonder...
Will I ever be ready for it?
I was just flipping through my calendar when, to my utter horror, I realized that Valentine's Day (i.e., the worst holiday ever to grace the Earth) is exactly two weeks from today.
