Sunday, March 31, 2013

Watch out, Single to-do list


Here it is. In 13 days, I would have been getting married. Such a strange thought. 
SOO in honor of my failed luck at relationships, I figured today would be a better day than any to update my Single to-do list. 

Single to-do list

  • Take myself out to dinner/lunch. Alone. Leave cell phone security blanket in car. People watch. (Jimmy John's yo. I ate that. Solo.)
  • Go to a coffee shop and bask in aloneness. (Hahah! CHECK! I've done this like 4 times already. And I actually like it.)
  • Write an awesome slam poem
  • Go to slam poetry open mic night
  • Perform poem at open mic night. Wear scarf. Receive snaps of appreciation.
  • Go to a dog park with Henry.
  • Go on a backroads road trip, with or without someone
  • Be comfortable with myself naked (Halfway done, my body seems less atrocious.)
  • Believe I'm pretty, wholeheartedly, without someone having to tell me. (Half heartedly, so I'm getting there)
  • Wear a bikini without feeling bad for innocent pedestrians.
  • Sing a karaoke song sober. Nail that shit. (Hell ya! Just did this shit last night. Some guy shook my hand. Not sure if it was because he liked my voice or because he was glad I got off the stage finally.)
  • Hit on a guy, preferably one waaaay out of my league. (Oh, I did.)
  • Collect more retro clothes. Own my pinupy retro awesomeness. (Working on it)
  • Give my opinion, regardless of the consequences. (I've been doing this, but I enjoy being a jerk so much that I'm not going to cross it off yet. I really like when people think I'm joking. I'm not.) 
  • Go to the Piano bar/Starlight Lounge dressed in pinup attire.
  • Work on a car, preferably an old 40's one that will aid in Rockabilly pinup agenda.
  • Get a kick ass job (Done. Got a job with my degree, just like my ex said I wouldn't.)
  • Go to grad school?
  • Be happy alone (I have so many offers from eligible men. And I. dont. want. any of them.)
  • Talk to that one boy from church. Make a date happen, once I've regained half of my sanity. (Not sure if I want this to happen anymore...) 
  • Marry him.
  • Ha, kidding.
  • ...Kind of.
  • Join a club of some sort, preferably one out of my comfort zone.
  • Have a long, awkward, heartfelt conversation about life with a telemarketer.
  • Break social norms. Sit next to someone and strike up conversation. 
  • Get an apartment by myself or with someone.
  • Make eye contact with a guy and smile without blushing. (This is so easy now, why was I so self conscious before? Oh yea, my POS ex who made me feel like I was a wall flower.)

Like really, words cannot describe how accomplished I feel right now. I'm doing so good! I shall post an updated list soon, with revisions and additions and such. 

Wednesday, March 6, 2013

Gotta Love A Good Rear End

So here we are. 
It's been almost a month and a half now that I have been completely single.
And about 3 months since I have been completely alone.

I came to this realization today.
It's quite the tale, but this is how it happened.
I was shoving a bite of lukewarm, protein enriched oatmeal into my mouth, attempting to feel skinny and lifelessly gazing at Oxygen channel's movie premiere of "The Duchess." Kiera Knightly was looking frizzy haired and giraffe like as usual in her 1700's cupcake frock, though still managing to look infinitely better than me at my best. I flipped on the tv just in time to see her reunited with her old flame (unbeknownst to her asshole husband).  Lock her chastity belt tight, Duke! This one spells trouble! She sneaks off with this guy at some raging 1700's kegger (scandalous!) where her lover....throws her onto the bed...rips off her...frock? corset? And...

O.M.G.
Change the channel.
Choke back tears.
Choke up oatmeal.

I am alone.
I have been alone.
Forever.
*one month and 9 days*
But who's counting?
Forever.

Total. Chaos. Ensues.
 My bite of oatmeal is still sitting in my mouth, gluing my mouth together. My bowl has fallen to the ground,  Henry is peeing on the floor. There's a terrible screeching noise!  It wont stop! It's coming from my pocket. I'm dying! Bird Flu! Maybe I really am a cyborg. The world is ending! History channel was right, oohhh God it's Y2K come late! 
Oh...
my phone is...ringing. Someone's...calling me?

A PHONE CALL!

Quick! It's a person! Answer before they hang up!
It's my best friend, Kyle. He's on his way over. He wants to get coffee. He wants me to leave my house. 
I get to leave my house! I get to put on makeup and see really real people and really real daylight!

We get in my car. I need to remember how to drive. Gas= Go. Ok. We come up to train tracks, there's a train. A line of cars. Better...break? Stop. Yes. 
I somewhat stop, pull down my mirror to rub at my face since my neck is three shades whiter than my foundation due to my lack of sun, and CRACK!
Promptly rear end the car in front of me. 
Sweet.

Kyle laughs at me. The elderly man steps out of his car as I fight back tears, yet again. He shuffles towards me, gets my name and information, and drives off.
 And that is when it hit me:
Rear ending an elderly man
is the most action
I've seen
in months.

Fuck.




Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Why I'd Rather Shove Hot Pokers Through My Eyes Than Spend Valentine's Day Alone


So.


Last week was Valentine's Day.

 I have officially decided that if I ever decide to blindly jump into a relationship again, only to find out he is some sort of mutant asshole or has a closet full of homicide skin clothing or some other hidden creepy rapey lie-ey trait, I'm going to wait until after Valentine's Day to call things off. Because I have decided that spending a week longer than planned snuggling a closet mass murderer boyfriend would be more favorable than spending Valentine's Day freshly broken up and alone. 

But, why, you may be asking. Since being single has catapulted me into list making mode, I have compiled a list of why I would rather watch Two Girls One Cup on repeat (not favorable, just to clarify) than spend Valentine's Day alone right after a break up.

Reason #1: You cant even eat your feelings without being reminded of how much you suck.
So, it's Valentine's Day. You're sitting at home, alone, alternating your slack jawed stares between the romantic comedy fml love fest that every channel insists on assaulting you with, and your textless cell phone. You reach for your family sized bag of M&M's as another passionate love scene comes on, only to realize that the bag is empty (just like your soul). Ryan Gosling is about to kiss Rachel McAdams in the pouring rain and...holy shit... You are out of Doritos too. And icrecream! And cheesesticks! And cookie dough. And Crisco.  And dignity. You turn to your puppy for some support, who gazes lovingly into your eyes as he shits on the floor. You decide enough is enough! You will not sulk like this! You will go out and be independent! You get in your car and drive yourself to the nearest HuHot. It's like 3pm, no one will be there to see you eating alone. No more stupid happy couples on stupid happy tv. Just noodles and awesomeness.
Wrong.
You sit down with your steaming plate of emotional support, only to look up and discover that the whole buffet line is coated with couples. Loving...couples...holding hands and...nuzzling each other's necks and...giggling. Ugh. You promptly lose your appetite, eat your concoction, go back for seconds, then thirds, and finally slink back to your car, hoping your parents decided to pick up groceries on their way home from work.

Reason #2: Everyone on Facebook has a happy fake relationship except you.
After eating all of the food in your house, you realize that there is nothing to take your mind off of your ex and how happy things were when you dont remember how miserable you were most of the time. Since your puppy is unreliable and your cat hates you almost as much as you hate yourself, you turn to Facebook for some social interaction. Oh look...Valentine's Day posts...Jenny Mcbitchnugget just got engaged. Wasn't she only dating that guy for like a month? How nice, generic happy couple that you love to hate is going out for a fancy dinner date...hopefully they go to HuHot, you cleaned that place out. And lookie here, stupid girl from interterm class got a big pearl promise ring...and all the ugly people are complaining about being single. After going through and sending mental hate vibes to every joyous couple you can find, you close your computer, curl into the fetal position, and remember why you have no friends.

Reason #3: The only "love note" you get is from your dad, reminding you to clean out the fridge.
Welp. At least you got that one covered. And you didn't even have to try.

Reason #4: Suddenly, EVERYTHING reminds you of the ex you just dumped.
You've tried everything to escape the cloud of singleness, eating, Facebook, none of it has worked. So you turn on the radio. Music always helps.... Crap. Your favorite channel is playing "your" song. The one that you and your ex made out to and were going to dance to someday at your wedding. Channel change. Shit. You hear that one song that you heard on your first date with your ex. So you change the channel, heavy metal will have something more fitting anyway. Nope. You hear the song that you and your ex both hated, because you both hate heavy metal. Country will be more whiney and less lovey. Heart break and dogs and junk, right? Wrong. You hear the song that was playing in the background of the Amigos you ate a fish taco at with your ex when you were trying to decide whether you should go to Shopko or home to watch a movie. But! A commercial comes on, yay! Annnnnd it's a Halmark Valentine's Day commercial. Your ex always used to get you Halmark cards specifically. Radio off. You decide to go through your phone, play some games or something. Your phone flashes your background, which is a picture of you and your ex. Shit. Why did you "forget" to change it yesterday? You throw your phone against the wall, and sob uncontrollably. Even crying reminds you of your relationship. Damnit!

Reason #5: All the unfavorable options crawl out of the woodwork, reminding you why you were sick of being single the last time.
Fortunately for you, you are not the only lonely single who hates their life on Valentine's day. Unfortunately for you, all the other lonely singles are the left overs who are single for a reason, mainly: you've already dumped them. Your phone, which has been quiet all day, suddenly blows up with texts from your exes. Not your most recent ex, no, he's ignoring you because apparently you ending the relationship due to his lying was the most hurtful thing you could do to him. No, these are past exes. From high school. And college. And everywhere else you chose to not to remember. Valentine's Day is like their full moon. They've hidden away forever, this day is their time to emerge, hairy, jagged teeth, smelling like garbage (none of this actually caused by Valentine's Day, they were always like this). They are sick of their nightly Jergens jerk and COD routine, and have a blood lust for vagina. Specifically, your vagina. They saw on Facebook that you are newly single, whether it be from the relationship status or the endless amount of cat pictures you have been posting, and are not going to waste any time. They know you are a serial monogamist, and now is their chance. They know you are sitting at home, bloated and whiney, just looking for a rebound. You text them back for awhile, just until you get the satisfaction of them asking you to hang out, and then quit talking to them. You giggle a bit. At least you always have options. But looking through your list of texts, you are reminded that all of your options are of the shitty kind, and once again, come to the decision that you will be forever alone. 

Hopefully, if you are actually still reading this, you will understand why it is infinitely better to spend Valentine's Day with someone you are miserable with, rather than spending it alone and miserable. 

So far, my singleness is going well.
 Next week, I will celebrate my official one month of being completely single. Woo! 
This calls for icecream. 


Friday, February 8, 2013

Single To-Do List


Oh God.

I'm sitting. Alone.

I'm sitting in a coffee shop. Drinking coffee. Alone.

I'm sitting in a coffee shop. Drinking coffee. Listening to folk music and self absorbed hipsters tell each other stupid stories about things that nobody cares about. Alone.

This is step one on my extensive list of activities to participate in. Alone. 
I came  to the outstanding conclusion that I am not comfortable just being by myself. Shocking, I know. Not sure what brought me to this jaw dropping realization. Perhaps it's the string of failed serial relationships I've flung myself in since I was 15. Or maybe the fact that I thought about the fact I've been single for two weeks and almost cried.

I've decided to fix this though. I am going to be an independent woman!

Well...

As independent as a single 22 year old living with her parents, two obese house cats, a rat puppy and hormonal teenage sister can be. 

Last night, I spent a majority of my time rolling round in my bed/nest thinking of a list of things I want to complete by myself. I have titled it my "Single To-Do List."  I encourage any other recently single serial monogamists to participate in this little experiment as well. That way I wont be so alone. HA. I can already tell this is going to go great.  So here is my list. Revel in it:

Single to-do list

  • Take myself out to dinner/lunch. Alone. Leave cell phone security blanket in car. People watch.
  • Go to a coffee shop and bask in aloneness. (Hahah! CHECK!)
  • Write an awesome slam poem
  • Go to slam poetry open mic night
  • Perform poem at open mic night. Wear scarf. Receive snaps of appreciation.
  • Go to a dog park with Henry.
  • Go on a backroads road trip, with or without someone
  • Be comfortable with myself naked
  • Believe I'm pretty, wholeheartedly, without someone having to tell me.
  • Wear a bikini without feeling bad for innocent pedestrians.
  • Sing a karaoke song sober. Nail that shit.
  • Hit on a guy, preferably one waaaay out of my league.
  • Collect more retro clothes. Own my pinupy retro awesomeness.
  • Give my opinion, regardless of the consequences.
  • Go to the Piano bar/Starlight Lounge dressed in pinup attire.
  • Work on a car, preferably an old 40's one that will aid in Rockabilly pinup agenda.
  • Get a kick ass job
  • Go to grad school?
  • Be happy alone
  • Talk to that one boy from church. Make a date happen, once I've regained half of my sanity.
  • Marry him.
  • Ha, kidding.
  • ...Kind of.
  • Join a club of some sort, preferably one out of my comfort zone.
  • Have a long, awkward, heartfelt conversation about life with a telemarketer.
  • Break social norms. Sit next to someone and strike up conversation. 
  • Get an apartment by myself or with someone.
  • Make eye contact with a guy and smile without blushing.

That's all my brain could vomit up in a half hour. Not bad, in my warped opinion. I'm always open for more suggestions though, from the whopping two people that read this. 

You know, this sitting alone thing isn't so bad. I already feel a bit more comfortable just basking in my awesome aloneness.

Except for the high pitched hipster girl next to me, who has been chatting with her friend for the past half hour about how alone she is. She literally just said "Now that I know I talk to myself out loud, I catch myself doing it all the time and it's so frustrating! I just cant stop. It's ok though. I dont want a relationship. I'm so happy by myself."

*Shudder*

Is this what awaits me? A long life of sitting in coffee shops, eavesdropping on lonely conversation? 
At least I'll be my own person I suppose.

Ironically, even though I called of my wedding, broke up with my fiance and have been flopping around in a pile of wadded up kleenex and unwashed pajama pants in the past two weeks,  my one main concern right now is that my lard ass cat didnt discover my vibrator I accidently left out on my bed and drag it out for my whole family to see when they get home from work.

Shit.

Teary Eyes and Crinkle Fries

So I dropped off all of my ex's stuff at his house.

My parents followed me up in a funeral procession-like caravan as I made the journey up to Omaha in his car, which was jam-packed with shit that reminded me of us.

I wrote him one last journal entry in the journal of us I started keeping when I met him, and dropped it off in his house. I left my rings hidden in a random spot, just in case.

And then, after cleaning out my things from his house, I left.

After saying goodbye to the life I had planned on living, I got in my parents car, headed home.

Luckily, my parents love me and know that I commonly eat my feelings, so they aided my self healing by buying me a swiss cheese mushroom runza and giant bag of crinkle fries/frings.

 I raped my mouth with delicious, crinkley, transfatty awesomeness, and proceeded to sob into my runza.
 Tears drastically increase the already sky high sodium levels of fast food.
They also increase the amount of bloat that happens after consumption.

Sigh.
Here's to new beginnings.

Monday, January 28, 2013

Flutter Kicking with the Elderly

Maybe drowning wouldn't be so bad.

I stare into the water at my feet,  fast flutter kicking amongst the rippling skin and flapping jowls of the  elderly that surround me. Everyone here has to be at least 50 years older than me, minus the two buoy-like, 30 something obese women wallowing like two useless bobbers in the corner. They haven't done anything but splash a bit, grunt, and chitter about lasagna recipes, so they don't count anyway. Not that I'm complaining, water aerobics is probably the one class at the Y where I actually feel more attractive and skinnier than everyone else. This is probably due to the fact that everyone else has a severe case of retinal cataracts and thinks I'm wearing water wings instead of a nice cushion of fat around my arms.

This is also why drowning would be plausible. Everyone is blinded by oldness except for the hot life guard, who most likely assumes I'm autistic, since I flop around with water barbells amongst old people instead of bending into fuckable positions in hot yoga pants like every other 22 year old here.
No one would even notice.  I could just hold my breath and sink to the bottom, where I'd most likely get mistaken for a deflated beach ball or pool vacuum, and  could peacefully fill my lungs with chemicals and urine residue.

But no.
 I enjoy living too much.
 Though the thought did flash through my mind for a brief second.

After calling off my engagement two days ago, my mind has been on the brink of insanity. More so than usual. My heart and mind have been waging an epic battle in my head over what is the right decision. Once in awhile my gut instinct pops in for a visit as well, usually dressed as a hot warrior goddess that slashes my heart and says "Run!!!"

I don't know what to do and I know what to do all at the same time. I love my fiance with all my heart, I do, but chatting online with slutty, cleavage clad whores while he is deployed and lying about it does not make me feel like signing away my life to him. I was at that comfortable point with him, where we shit with the door open and never had sex anymore (much to my dismay). I always had this gut feeling that something might be a little off, but my innocence worked fast to cover those thoughts up with stupid giddy love crap.

I didn't want to end it, but in a brash decision of hurt feelings and anger, I did.
Worst of all, he is still deployed, I have all of his shit, and we cant talk in person. So no matter what, we have to wait a few weeks before we can talk things out and finalize everything.
Now the alone feeling sets in.

Even the squirrels remind me of my luck. They sat in the trees by my doctor's office and bitched at me as I walked into the building today. This one in particular stared at me with his stupid little beady squirrel eyes, and I swear his chutters sounded exactly like "you're always going to be alone chutter chutter chutter. Chut chutter you will die an old maid chutter chutter chutter. Sucks to suck chutter chut chutter."
I almost yelled back at him to get his furry ass out of the tree and find me a man with enough nuts to be honest and trustworthy, but then felt as though that might be considered socially inappropriate and wouldn't help my whole "being alone" case.

So, unfortunately, I need to get used to this whole "being alone" phenomenon. So it looks as though I will be spending a lot of time in water with the elderly. It can only get better from here, right?