Dating, Memories, Social Media, Thoughts, You're Fine

How You Should View Your Ex

The other day, my ex of almost six years posted on Instagram for his girlfriend’s birthday. She’s a relatively new girlfriend, although I’ve been aware of her for a while. It’s only been a recent thing that my ex has actually posted anything with her. I’ve done some creeping and some stalking (I think we can all officially agree that we do this, mostly out of boredom), and she genuinely seems like a sweet person, and I really am happy for him. But the birthday post bothered me for just a minute.

I stopped for a second, reading his post about her birthday and calling her his “Partner in crime”, and realized he never once posted for my birthday. There was one year he posted on my birthday, but it was about the uniform he received in the mail for the Boston Marathon. I had that moment of weakness where I thought, “Why did he post for her and not for me?” And then I slapped myself in the face. My friend Helen sent me a text message and I brought up the birthday post. She wrote, “Isn’t it interesting to see what your exes are willing to do for other people and what they didn’t do for you?”

Now, I realize the Instagram post is a petty and fairly small thing to complain about. It really isn’t all that important. But when you break up, you tend to go over in your head not just the big things, but the small things that matter too. Like how every year, I posted on our anniversary and he didn’t. Or that one year I threw him a surprise birthday party. Or how every gift he gave me was so impersonal and lacked interest, which in a way showed how much he didn’t know me. The little things matter because those are the things that show the other person you care.

My response to Helen was simple: It’s a good thing that I’m seeing these changes because it tells me he learned something from all of this. You’re supposed to see changes in your ex, so rather than being mad and upset because what they’re doing now is something they didn’t ever do for you is ridiculous. You should be happy that they’re changing their ways, otherwise the next girl doesn’t stand a chance. Both my ex and I were too selfish to be considerate to one another, which is why he’s my ex. We were young, so we were supposed to be selfish.

This, I believe, is how every person should view their ex. Unless they tried to stab you or steal from you, you shouldn’t look at them with hatred simply because it didn’t work out. Especially once your ex has moved onto someone else and is treating them the way they are supposed to be treated, you should be happy about this because it means they actually listened to you.

I don’t hate any of my exes, even the shady, cheating ones. I’m not buddy-buddy with any of them, but if I were to run into them walking down the street, I’d offer to grab a coffee and catch up. I’ve grown a lot when it comes to relationships. No matter what I experienced, bad or good, or what I’ve been through, I am who I am. I will never be the jealous girlfriend, or the controlling girlfriend, or the clingy girlfriend. I have my own life and so do they. If they screw up, I will always give them a chance to properly explain themselves, but if they need to explain themselves every single week, then it’s time to call it quits. I’ve learned my time is precious, and I’m no longer going to waste it with anyone who can’t reciprocate those feelings.

So the next time you see your ex, whether it’s in-person or through social media, be the bigger person. No longer sit and stew over what you see, and walk along.

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Awkward, Dating, Girls, Humor, Internet Things, My Idea Of Being An Adult, Thoughts, You're Fine

I Don’t Want to Be a Princess

We can go ahead and consider this a new Single Schmingle installment since I’ve discussed this very topic with Myka and Meghan. Bear with me here.

I always thought Mia Thermopolis was crazy. Who wouldn’t want to wake up one day and find out they’re a princess? The girl got a full blown makeover for free, a millions beautiful ball gowns, a tiara she got to wear occasionally, and full service at her disposal. Granted, if you’re introverted like Mia, all of that attention can make you feel like you have a thousand tiny ants crawling all over your body. You’re uncomfortable nearly all the time. You might even feel guilty. And I am exactly like that.

Something Colleen said to me last week struck a chord with me and I can’t shake it off. After I told her the complete switch in enthusiasm from Navy Man when I told him I wanted to be casual and friendly, she said, “You shouldn’t have said anything. You should have just let him treat you like the princess you are.”

“But I don’t want to be treated like a princess,” I said.

“Why the hell not?”

I thought about this for the past few days. I can’t be the only girl out there who feels uncomfortable using a guy to feel special, only to know that I’m not actually interested in him. I’m shocked that girls actually do this. They let these guys take them out to fancy restaurants, buy them presents, and then whisper to their girlfriends that they don’t really like him, they’re just waiting out the storm.

I feel weird if a guy even pays for me all the time. I just don’t think it’s necessary. I’m the type that if a man brings me to a fancy restaurant, I’ll order the cheapest item on the menu. I’m more of a hot-dog-cart-with-a-side-of-cheesy-fries kind of girl. But I know that’s just how my mom raised me. She always said, “Never depend on a man. Learn how to take care of yourself.” I think a mother with three daughters has to feed them that mindset nowadays. Especially a single mother.

Of course, it’s always nice to get pampered every once in a while. Some flowers or an ice cream run when I’m feeling down. But nothing major. I’ve been in relationships where I never got those things, mostly because we grew too comfortable with each other that we forgot how to appreciate one another. And even if those small gestures did happen, I was so surprised by the event that I was asking a million questions to figure out why it was happening.

I can’t help but wonder what would happen if the roles were reversed. What if was the one to ask a guy out on a date? What if was the one to court the guy around and pay for the date? This isn’t some feminist, all mighty woman power post. It’s just a thought. How would the date turn out in the end? Would it be the same? I feel like with every date, the guy is the one who is trying to impress, meanwhile, I think the girl should be equally impressive. We don’t give men enough credit. Some women out there might roll their eyes at that last statement but I’m serious. It takes a lot of guts to ask someone out. And then you have to take that person out and all of the pressure is on them to impress them, and make sure they’re having a good time. Here I am, nervous for nearly every single date, when it seems all I really have to do is stand there and look pretty, maybe laugh at his jokes, and share an anecdote or two. That’s my only job.

I’ve never laughed over a guy asking me out on a date. I’m always flattered, no matter who they are. But men get rejected all the time. For women, it’s once in a blue moon. And when it happens, it doesn’t feel good, does it? Let’s face it, ladies. When it comes to casually dating, we’re kind of spoiled. Even if you never make it to date number 2, you still got a free meal.

However, after discussing this with Myka and Meghan why we may perhaps feel weird about going on dates, no matter how long we’ve been doing it, it could be the slight chance that men have kind of given up. In 2017, a typical date is “Netflix and Chill”. We could have done that in the comfort of our own home. You invite us over to “watch a movie”. We know what that means, gentleman. We suddenly feel like they don’t want to actually get to know us, because who discusses life, hobbies, and family in the middle of a movie?

Of course, this post is all over the place. A lot of it may be contradicting. But that’s just because I’m another crazy woman who doesn’t know what she wants.

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Dating, Girls, My Idea Of Being An Adult, Thoughts, You're Fine

Little Bird

A little bird gave me a wonderful piece of advice and wisdom recently that I’m trying to hold onto dearly.

But first, I’ll explain how my date went with Navy Man on Monday. He was a gentleman, for sure. He held the door open for me. He paid for me the entire evening. He made good conversation with rare moments of silence that didn’t really feel awkward. However, I did find out within the first 30 minutes that he turned 21 in March. Instantly I knew, this guy is too young for me. I was confused because he explained that he went to culinary school for 2 years, and then has been in the navy for the past 2 years, which is why I thought he was more in the age 24 range. Did this guy graduate from high school at 16?
I accepted his age in that moment and decided to just enjoy myself. After dinner, we went to another bar, tried a few weird cocktails called a Jimlet, which tasted exactly like a gimlet, and listened to a Beatles cover band.

On Wednesday, he texted me saying that he had an amazing time and hopes that this wasn’t a one time thing. He said he really enjoyed my company and wants to get to know me more. Now, I don’t like hurting people’s feelings. After a couple of days, I decided I really wasn’t interested in this guy anymore for various reasons, and not just the slight age difference. I politely said that I really appreciate what he has said and I had a great time and would like to hang out again sometime on more casual friendly terms. I told him I’m not looking for anything serious or long term, which in hindsight, is true. Suddenly, he pulled a 360 on me. His response was, “I could be on the other side of the planet in 6-7 months. I don’t know where my job is going to take me. I’m just looking to have a little fun while I’m still here…”

Oh, so now I’m an escort. Or a Geisha. I’ve been downgraded. Immediately, I was even more turned off by this guy than before. I know he responded that way because I kinda sorta rejected him. He said all of these nice things and now he’s considered me his party animal. Oh, okay.

To be fair, I did tell him I wanted things to be casual and light hearted. But he could have responded in a better way.

After that comment, I don’t have an intention of seeing him again. Which brings me back to what my little bird friend said to me a few weeks ago. To sum it up, they explained that dates are kind of pointless. People treat them more like a checklist, which is not the way to find your potential partner. You should find your future someone when you’re comfortable with them and nothing is forced. If you have to force conversation simply because you “matched” on Bumble, then it’s kind of doomed from the start. Everything should come naturally.

Which brings me to my question: if what I said to Navy Man is actually true, that I’m not looking for anything long term right now, then what the hell am I dating for? To pass the time? To seek out attention when I’m feeling the most vulnerable? Writing that out makes me feel like I’m wasting my time and I’m already annoyed with myself.

So, how can you just accept yourself for who you are, without the needs of someone else? I’m getting there, slowly but surely. Especially a few weeks ago when that guy made the cute comment and I shut it down immediately. I’m tired. I’m tired of the same conversation over and over again. I’m tired of the same compliments. I’m tired of trying to find a way to let people down gently. It’s all very exhausting.

I need to stop dating out of boredom. I need to learn how to take myself out on dates, and be content with myself. I’ve been told you can’t fully love someone unless you love yourself first. But that’s easier said than done.

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Awkward, Dating, Girls, Humor, My Idea Of Being An Adult, Thoughts, You're Fine

It’s Just a Date

You know it’s been a while when you log into your WordPress account and find 17 spam comments you need to delete.

How has everyone been? Good? Cool? Solid? Wonderful.

I would devote some time to reading blog posts by all of you glorious bloggers but I don’t simply have the time. I’ll try, though.

But I have finally plopped a seat in my kitchen with a hot cup of coffee watching the sun shine through my window on this day. It’s supposed to be 89 degrees today. The heat has already kicked in rather rapidly here in Charleston, and I’ve been melting. Only slightly.

I’m about to share with you some funny stories over the last few weeks, some updates, and maybe ask for a little advice too, if you’d like to give it.

The job in the gallery is going pretty well. Of course, there are some aspects to the job that aren’t wonderful, but the shoe always drops, doesn’t it? I’m not going to be a millionaire anytime soon but at least I’m gaining valuable experience.

I’ve been “dating” or rather, “seeing” one guy in particular. My Girl Gang group chat with Meghan and Myka like to call him Southern Man. He’s born and raised in Charleston. He’s a little rough around the edges, but he’s sweet. In a weird yet comforting way, he reminds me of my dad. He’s fun to be around and he brings me nachos late at night after he works. We’ve been seeing each other for over a month and I’m having serious doubts about the whole thing. I told him after our first date that I wanted this to be casual for now. I just wanted to keep spending time with him before committing to anything serious. However, after our first date, he made it very known how MUCH he likes me. I feel like I should have been happy with this but I wasn’t. It actually kind of freaked me out. But I wanted to give him a fair chance and still hang out with him in hopes that it would change. It did change slightly. I actually do really like him, but there’s one major con standing in the way. He absolutely despises kids.

He has no intention of having children at all. The first few times he mentioned it, I let it slide. But he’s brought it up on numerous occasions to the point where it concerns me and I’m realizing he’s not joking. I completely respect his decision to not want kids, but I made it known that I actually do want kids in the future. This doesn’t seem to phase him, though. So I keep thinking, where does it go from here? Here’s my answer: it doesn’t. I am fully aware that us hanging out, casually, is as far as it’s going to go. Unfortunately, I know he doesn’t see it that way.

Southern Man left for a cruise on Saturday and will be back on Thursday. I plan to have a chat with him when he’s back to clear the air and see what he’s thinking. I hate having those conversations, especially when it’s about something that is so far off in my future that the whole conversation sounds a little insane. But the way I see it is if I’m going to get serious with someone, we need to want the same things in life.

On a less serious note, I went out for a ladies night on Saturday. I have found a very colorful and crazy group of girlfriends whom I love. We sat in an Irish bar and listened to Irish folk music and danced. Here is the part where I may need some advice from you fellow bloggers but read the entire situation, and take into consideration what I had just previously shared with you.

I’m sitting at the bar, drinking my Michelob Ultra, and noticed a guy at the bar kept smiling at me. He interacted with me from across the bar a couple of times in a joking manner. After a little while, the bartender handed me a shot of whiskey. I asked her where it came from and she pointed to the man. I started laughing and he yelled, “You’re in an Irish bar and you’re drinking a Michelob. Have a whiskey!”

I hate whiskey. But I took the shot anyway and made sure to give him the most disgusted face after, in which he laughed. So then I followed along and asked the bartender to pour two rumplemintz shots. I had never heard of rumplemintz until I moved to Charleston. It tastes like toothpaste but at least you’re minty fresh after. I asked her to hand one over to the guy. As the bartender is pouring them, another guy comes up to me and asks to buy me a drink. I was like a lost doe in the woods. Here I was, buying a man a drink while another man is trying to buy ME a drink. It was a very confusing 10 seconds of my life. I looked down to read this new guy’s t-shirt and it read the name of the same restaurant Southern Man works at and I nearly had a heart attack. Charleston is small, y’all. So I instantly said, “No, I’m good. Thank you.” If I had said yes, I would have had to change my name.

The whiskey guy at the bar took his shot of rumplemintz and yelled, “Thanks for the Colgate!” After a little while, he got up to leave and slipped a piece of paper with his number on it.

Smooth.

What I liked about this guy was how classy and old school he was. He didn’t try to come over and talk to me because he could see I was with my friends. That’s already a good sign in my book. He didn’t ask if he could buy me a drink, he did it anyway. Another good sign. And the fact that he slipped me his number on a piece of paper like it was 1997 made me a happy camper.

I sent him a text, and we’ve been talking on and off since Saturday. Then he wrote to me, “This may seem a little forward, but would you like to have dinner sometime?” <— Another wonderful sign that he doesn’t want to push boundaries. He actually seems like a proper gentleman. And he’s in the Navy, which might explain his good manners. I said yes and now I have a date tonight at a pretty classy, expensive restaurant that apparently people try to get reservations at months ahead of time. This guy means business.

Of course, a part of me feels a little shitty because I’m still technically seeing Southern Man. I keep trying to justify it in my head by saying, “You told him casual, Jess!” or “You’re not doing anything wrong!” I’m monogamous at heart, so going on multiple dates tends to weird me out. I know deep down I’m not actually doing anything wrong or shameful but I can’t shake the feeling either. It’s just a date. It’s just a date. It’s just a date.

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Family, Girls, Home, Humor, Thoughts

The Love Of My Life

I stole this title from Cheryl Strayed. If you want to read her personal essay, you can find it here: The Love of My Life. We may have the same title, but it’s not the same story.

I didn’t realize before how bland my life really was. It wasn’t always bland, but only for a brief time. I’ve been living with Colleen for two months now, and I feel warm inside. I’m convinced it’s the twintuition. It’s been wild, tame, stressful, and celebratory all at the same time. I’m going to punch myself in the face for saying this, but you know that Taylor Swift song “22”? It’s kind of like that. It’s horrible, yet fun. It’s confusing, yet care-free. Now that I’ve said that, please forget I ever said that.

Any person who steps foot in our apartment is freaked out not by me, and not by Colleen, but by both of us.

Together.

We make bird calls from the next room. I cook her dinner and she tells me she loves me. I try to teach her how to cook dinner and she yells, “WHY DO PEOPLE LIKE DOING THIS?!” We FaceTime even though she’s in the living room and I’m in my bedroom. She pulls a seat next to my bed and we talk for hours. I buy her Wasabi Peas when I think she’s running low and she buys me green apples. In the middle of the night, I hear her crashing around in her room and then she takes off. I don’t know where she’s going but I know she’s fine. I find her in her room with all of the lights on and the TV blasting, and she’s passed out with Ragnar on her chest. We go to yoga together and I admire her headstand. When I clean up, she rearranges everything. We can relate to Anne Perkins and Leslie Knope. We can relate to Idgie Threadgoode and Ruth Jamison. When we both got the jobs we wanted, we stood in the kitchen and screamed. Some nights, we crawl into bed together with our cats and watch Moulin Rouge and Big Fish. We tell each other about our casual dates. I paint something and she wants to buy it. She rants about her liberal views and I sit and listen because I know she just needs to vent.

We fight too. But it’s not average fights where we say mean things and don’t talk for two days. Our fights are more like heated discussions where she angrily tells me how wonderful I am and that I’m acting stupid, and I tell her she’s reading too much into it and I don’t agree with what she’s saying. Then we make jungle noises and throw the middle finger around and yell, “I HATE YOU BUT I LOVE YOU”, or “I KNOW WHAT YOU’RE SAYING BUT YOU’RE BEING WEIRD ABOUT IT.”

Or the heated discussion looks a little like this:

Colleen: GAHHHHHHHH You’re just so wonderful but you’re being dumb about this.

Me: I know I am but you’re being a bitch about it!

Colleen: I KNOW I AM!!!

If we get mad at each other, it’s never for selfish reasons. After a couple of hours, we laugh and grab a bite to eat.

We go to an Irish pub and listen to an Irish folk band. We dance, we sing, we clap, and we don’t care. We do each other’s laundry. We both avoid the dishes. We sometimes feed the cats four times a day without knowing it, those greedy bastards. She buys silly string, and there’s no telling when she’s going to use it. We like tequila. When she’s stressed out, she’ll rearrange her room for the 500th time. We FaceTime her friends back home, and one of them decided to impregnate me with a boy and name him Benjammin’. We talk about books and world history. She tells me she wants to marry a Russian. And then she gags over marriage. We run into Sephora and walk out broke. We wear matching kitty t-shirts in case we lose each other in a crowd. She eats my leftover pizza and takes selfies with it to let me know she’s done the crime. We eat crap, talk about how we need to lose weight, and then eat more crap because we are twenty-six and too young to abandon all good things. We invite everyone we ever knew to our apartment just because we like the company.

So, the point in this post is this. Whether I do meet someone new, get married, and eventually live a life expected, Colleen will always be my soulmate.

Who wants to come over?

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Awkward, Dating, Girls, Humor, Thoughts, You're Fine

Single Schmingle: Conversations with Hey Meghan

I did kind of a sad thing yesterday. I googled “How to Casually Date”. Some of you may be on the same train. If so, welcome aboard the Casually Dating Express. There are no Chocolate Frogs, Pumpkin Pasties, or Cauldron Cakes on this express. Instead, there are the Traumatizing Truffles, Confusing Cookies, and Humiliating Hobbob’s (I don’t know what a Hobbob is. I made it up. Why am I not a famous novelist yet for such brilliant creativity?).

I found a wonderful article on Thought Catalog titled “24 Thoughts Every Chronic Over-Thinker Has While Attempting To ‘Casually Date’”. I found it hilarious and a little heart-warming considering the entire list was filled with my very thoughts. I related way too much to number 5.

I want to be on Tinder, it feels like Tinder is a place I should be, and yet there’s some part of me that is convinced someone I’ll know will be on there and they’ll know I’m actively seeking love and I won’t look cool I’ll look thirsty and they’ll go home and say to their friends, oh I saw them on Tinder guess they’re lonely. Oh my god I can’t do Tinder.

I’ve been single for three months and I’m not sad about it. In fact, as I’m writing this, I’m being a basic bitch and sitting in a coffee shop with my laptop Carrie Bradshawing it because I needed to get out of the apartment and explore my new town. And guess what? I can stay in this very seat for as long as I want. I have nowhere to be after this, and it feels nice. I’ve always been extremely monogamous. That’s not necessarily a bad thing, but if you were to ask me what my type of man is, I’d have no answer for you. I have no idea because I’ve never dated around. I’ve also never been the type of person to cut someone out over something small. For instance, if I was to meet someone and they were like, “I hate travelling and I have no interest in it”, that would normally not be a deal breaker for me even though I absolutely love to travel. But maybe it should be. There’s a difference in being picky and being a brat. If I want to travel to a new country every year, I want to date someone who wants to do that too.

So, I found myself googling “How to casually date” because I have no idea what I’m doing when it comes to “dating”. I think the fact that I gave my number to three different men in the last week proves that because I wasn’t entirely interested in them in the first place. But I sat in bed and realized that with all three men, I had the exact same conversation over and over again.

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“Where did you grow up? What do you do? How old are you?” Blah, blah, blah. Boring. It’s like a broken record. It’s to the point where I can’t even remember what their answers were because it’s all the same.

As soon as a man starts talking to me, I forget how to human. My intelligence is gone, I have nothing of importance to say, and I get tongue-tied. I’m fully aware that I’m acting like an idiot, but I don’t know how to turn it off.

Let’s turn to my blogger friend Meghan (go follow her blog if you haven’t already). I texted her explaining my awkwardness and since she is newly single (well, kind of), we decided to collaborate a series of blog posts consisting of our weird interactions with the opposite sex. Is this a dating blog? No, not really. If this blog turned into a dating blog, just go ahead and unfollow me now because I have nothing concrete to say and you’ll probably end up an old, battered person with not just cats, but parrots, geese, chickens, and maybe a llama.

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This is what Meghan has to say about her predicament:

Oh hi there is it my turn?! Well for those who know I just got “dumped” Aka the guy I had been casually seeing for the last year said he no longer saw a future with me. OUCHHHH. If you want to punch someone in the heart tell them that. Instant ouch. I was already “single” but now I’m SUPER SINGLE. I don’t really think I’m ready to mingle yet. At this point I’m just waiting for my secret fantasy to come true. What is that you ask?!?!
WELL:
I’m at a concert and some super hot rocker guy is on stage and see’s me in the crowd and instantly falls for me. He hunts me down after their set and the rest is history. He will write cute but slightly emo songs about how much he loves me and will have cute little kids with mohawks and converse.

YEAH…..okay I’m just embarrassing myself right now. That will never happen.

Being in your mid 20’s and dating is weird. I have friends getting married and having kids. I on the other hand can’t even keep a cactus alive and would eat dino nuggets every night for dinner if I had the choice. I guess we are all at different stages of life??

J: I’d eat Dino nuggets all day every day.

M: Dude I just bought more. They are great.

J: So you basically want to marry Tony Hawk?

M: More like Kellin Quinn. Tony Hawk is old. 

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J: My aunt told me to find someone 10-15 years older than me. I’m still trying to wrap my head around that.

M: Ewww. I have a five year limit. 

J: Is your dream to go back in time to 2003?

M: Maybe…

J: My dream is to find a man casually wearing a Doug t-shirt. Is that weird?

M: Bwahahahaha. Slightly but very you. 

J: It would match my Reptar t-shirt. I feel like I’m not asking for much.

M: I was just thinking that. I have a Legends of the Hidden Temple t-shirt. 

J: STOP IT. I forgot about that show. I should just start wearing my Reptar shirt when I go out. See how many suitors comment on it.

M: DO IT. DO IT NOW.


So it’s official. Next Single Schmingle post will reveal if Meghan has found her 2003 lover and switched over to different nuggets, and I will attempt to wear my Reptar shirt out to a bar to see if men either think I’m weird as hell or think it’s absolutely amazing. There’s only one way to find out, right?

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Art, My Idea Of Being An Adult, Thoughts, You're Fine

My Quarter Life

There has a been a weird vibe in the air. I don’t know if any of you can feel it but I certainly can. It’s been here for a while. It could still be the aftermath of January and all that it has to offer me, which is usually nothing. It could be the fact that I’m still adjusting to my move. But something seems…off. Things seem strange with friends whom I haven’t talked to in a while, but I have been busy over the last month. Life in general feels like it’s tipping over. I no longer have a routine.

My days are now mushing together and I don’t like it. I find myself sinking into my bed, staring at the twinkle lights I hung up around my closet door for what feels like hours. I like to stay busy, but I have very little motivation lately. Every day, I find a new bruise on my arms, legs, or neck from putting together furniture since I arrived in Charleston. My body is sore. My mind is weak. I haven’t even had much inspiration to blog. If I go on WordPress, I glance through the feed for about two seconds before tossing my phone at the end of my bed and crawling under the covers for the rest of the morning.

But I was in my car this morning thinking about my quarter life crisis I had nearly a month ago. I was home in New Hampshire visiting my family before I moved down south. It was 2am, and I was sobbing into a pillow with my mom by my side. I’m not even sure what happened to make me so upset. It wasn’t the thought of moving away from my family. I’ve already done that what feels like a thousand times. I think I’ve said goodbye to them more than I’ve said hello. I was telling her about a potential job in an art gallery in Charleston that I’m both excited and terrified about it. I finally admitted to my mom that I’m scared I will fail. After all those years in college, studying, memorizing, practicing, and drooling over the art I was taught, I’m scared that in the end, I will find out I’m not actually good in the field at all. Then what? Perhaps that’s why I’ve had such trouble finding a job in my field since I graduated. I’ve secretly been sabotaging myself into believing I will fail and I wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Then my mom brushed the hair off my face and simply said, “I have never, not even once, been worried about you succeeding. When it comes to art, you know exactly what you’re doing and saying. I have no doubt you will be great.”

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So, I’ve been trying to remember what she said. I have to stop convincing myself that something will go wrong. I have to focus. But, if I wake up every morning like I did this morning, with Mumford’s paws wrapped around my leg and his head digging into my ankle, I will definitely spend an extra fifteen minutes in bed.

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Festivities, Humor, I'm not a mommy blogger, Out of the Ordinary, Sarcasm

Valentine’s Day Cards

No, this is not an anti-Valentine’s Day post. I’m not one of those single people who overly emphasizes that I’m alone on this holiday, or writes “Singletines” rather than “Valentine’s”. I don’t mind Valentine’s Day. Although, if you do write mushy messages to each other on social media, please know that neither I nor the rest of the world cares, and we wish you would stop. I don’t want to see it on any normal day, and to me, Valentine’s Day is just like every other day.

Now that we got that out of the way, I’d like to discuss Valentine’s Day cards. I don’t like those overly sentimental greeting cards. You know, the ones with the really fancy cursive font with a floral painting and some kind of cheesy poem inside. I don’t care for those. I like the sarcastic ones. I just got my Nana a birthday card that says “You’re Awful” on the front, but then peel the entire card open and it says, “You are awesome and wonderful.” I like that crap.

I’m not trying to brag or anything, but my family should start a greeting card business. Every time there’s a family party for someone’s birthday, my uncle goes to the store and grabs a handful of cards. I don’t even think he looks at them. He just picks out about 15 cards at random and then modifies them when he gets home.

So, I’ve decided to modify some Valentine’s Day cards I found online. I think they are a bit more original.

A big shout out to my mother, my aunt, and my two sisters for helping me out with these. I couldn’t have done it without that family wit. We should all be in therapy.

1.)

vd1

vd2

2.)

vd3

vd4

3.)

vd5

vd6

4.)

vd7

vd8

5.)

vd9

vd10

6.)

vd11

vd12

7.)

vd13

vd14

8.)

vd15

vd16

9.)

vd17

vd18

But in all seriousness, I wish you all a happy Valentine’s Day. To me, you are all my valentines. Plus, my cat. I can’t forget about my cat.

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Poems, Thoughts, Writing

Because

I’m waiting for my time to pass by

Because darkness is slowly eating me.

Store me in your mind for just a moment

Even a second, would be nice.

Like Nanna sings,

“I should eat you up

And spit you right out.”

But I still have faith in you.

You may never think of me

And that’s okay.

I’ll wander the world sleeplessly anyway.

Like Nanna sings,

“I should not care

But I don’t know how.”

I sit on my side of the tub

The warm rain trickling down on me

And I watch the dripping faucet

Waiting for something magnificent

To happen

Because I still have faith in you.

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Anecdote, Awkward, Girls, Humor, My Idea Of Being An Adult, Thoughts

I Need to Learn How to Say No – UPDATE

I got a lot of wonderful feedback from you friends on my post from yesterday, and I want to thank all of you. Since I never responded to Maybe Cory’s text from the other night and he’s been silent since, I figured that was the end of that. I was thankful he didn’t turn out to be a psycho stalker who would eventually become scarier and scarier with each unanswered text.

But, I woke up this morning to a text from Maybe Cory saying, “Don’t want to chat?”

Oh boy. It’s official. I have to answer him. The text was slightly passive aggressive, filled with annoyance and perhaps regret. I immediately felt bad and tried to think of what to say without hurting his feelings. I kept thinking this morning about how aggravated I’ve been in the past when my messages had gone unanswered. I tend to overthink things way too much and I didn’t necessarily want to do that to him or anybody else. He seems perfectly nice.

I apologized for not getting back to him due to the stress of moving to South Carolina. <– I had to remind him of this very important fact.

He said he understood and then the light bulb went off. “You live in Connecticut?”

I said yes.

“Ohhhh. I missed that part. *insert sweaty smiley emoji*”

And that was the end of the conversation. I have a feeling I won’t be hearing from Maybe Cory again.

So I realized many things from this very small experience.

1.) Maybe Cory was probably too drunk to comprehend what I was saying to him that evening.

2.) Maybe Cory wasn’t actually listening to anything I was saying to him that evening.

3.) It’s more than likely a mix of both 1 and 2.

4.) I need to take a chill pill.

So even though I didn’t get a chance to actually turn him down, it makes me feel a little bit better that I sorta kinda tried. Until next time.

fdgfdgdf

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Anecdote, Awkward, Girls, Humor, My Idea Of Being An Adult, Thoughts

I Need to Learn How to Say No

Why is it so hard to say no?

I read an advice column a few weeks ago and the reader asked, “How do you say no to people?” The advice columnist put it very simply – just say no. However, for people like myself, it’s a lot easier said than done. And I’m not talking about drastic situations like, your best friend wants your help committing a murder. If my best friend asked me to participate in murder, I would very easily say no and then run away/go to the police.

Here’s my example from this past weekend:

I was out with my mom, aunt, and two older sisters in a small downtown area in New Hampshire. Since it was my last weekend visiting them before I leave for South Carolina, it was kind of a big blow out. My oldest sister just had a baby back in October, so she was shaking her little mom self the whole evening. My second oldest sister was handing me Jello shots while my mom and my aunt took videos of me and my sisters reenacting the rap scene from Teen Witch. We are a close-knit family, as you can tell.

I ran off to the ladies room and on my way back, my arm was tugged ever so lightly by some guy with thick-rimmed glasses. I was wearing my glasses as well (long story short – I put my contact in my eye and it just disappeared without a trace. I looked like Jessica Day all weekend). He pulled me aside and said, “Hey, you seem interesting to talk to.”

Now here’s where I tend to ruin things. In an overly sarcastic tone I asked, “Is it because I’m wearing and you’reeeee wearing glasses?” But then he started laughing and asked for my name. Our conversation was going smooth and I knew it was going to be brief. After all, I was just being polite. And if I really thought about it, this guy had some balls to just pull me aside and strike up a conversation. Bonus points for him. He will go far in life. I told him that I was out with my family because I’m moving to South Carolina. He thought that was cool and congratulated me. And then I started looking at his face and realized he seemed pretty young. Perhaps even younger than myself.

So I did what any obnoxious older woman would normally do in this situation and I asked, “How old are you anyway?”

He was twenty-two.

And then the grandma side of me kicked in and I began reminiscing my college graduation.

200w

He was still a senior in college. I informed him that I will be twenty-six next month. He didn’t seem to give a shit. I got nervous because of the situation I was in and began spewing out advice like I’m his career counselor and he needed help on his resume. I then quickly ended the conversation and told him I needed to get back to my mother, which we both looked over and I’m fairly certain she was holding a Jello shot. But he still asked for my phone number.

Now, a few key points popped into my head at this point.

1.) I just informed him that I’m moving to South Carolina.

2.) I’m nearly four years older than him. That doesn’t seem like a lot but when I realized that he was a freshman in college while I was graduating and stressing about my student loans, it wigged me out a little.

3.) I don’t even currently live in New Hampshire, which he knew.

4.) Our conversation really wasn’t all that interesting to be honest. It felt like we were speed dating – what was your major? What do you do? Where do you live? Where did you grow up? —> How on earth can you tell if you like someone by asking these basic questions? I want someone to ask me what my favorite episode of Doug is, and if I thought Justin Timberlake and Britney Spears should have worked things out.

So I couldn’t help but wonder why on earth this guy wanted my phone number. For what purpose? I think it was pretty obvious we were never going to see each other again. I’m sure some of you are like, Oh Jess, you’re so naive. You’re right. You’re 100% right.

But I panicked and said, “Sure” and inserted my number into his phone. I had zero intention of speaking to him after our encounter. Some of you might think, Wow you’re an asshole. I wasn’t trying to be. I just don’t know how to say no. He was perfectly nice and polite.

My oldest sister yelled, “Why didn’t you give him a fake number? I did that all the time before I was married.”

“Because I’m not a jerk. How horrible would that be if you got the balls to ask a girl for her phone number only to find out that it’s not her phone number? If I were to do that, what’s the point of giving him a number at all?” I said.

“You could have said you have a boyfriend,” my mom suggested.

“I don’t think that quickly on my feet.”

Flash forward to the following night, and I received a text that my iPhone very cleverly labeled, “Maybe Cory?” It took me a second to realize it was senior-in-college-guy.

200-5

I never answered the text.

It’s so easy saying no to people who are just not very friendly, or if it’s someone asking to do something for you. Whenever a guy asks to buy me a drink, I always say, “No, thank you” unless I know them. I don’t like feeling as though I owe them something in return, if you know what I mean. I know plenty of girls who go out and get free drinks from gentlemen all night, and they have no intention of actually conversing with them after. I’d feel like a dick by doing that. I’m a working woman and I can pay for myself. Also, there’s an unspoken fear among females that we don’t want to get roofied, so shout out to guys, if you’re wondering why some girls turn down your drink offer, just know the roofie thing is like, half the reason. But if someone asks for my phone number, it sounds kind of weird saying, “No, thank you”.

In the end, I guess it doesn’t really matter. Turning them down from the start is the exact same thing as ignoring their messages. Sure, it might hurt their feelings, which I don’t like doing, but if I have no intention of speaking to them anyway, then it’s a web I can’t break free of. Eventually, I just have to grow a pair and say “No” so that I can stop getting messages from people I don’t want to talk to.

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Awkward, Girls, Humor, Memories, Thoughts, You're Fine

A Letter to My Pants

Hey ladies,

I’m sure for the last year, my closet has felt like Buckingham Palace compared to my last one. You have so much space to just hang around while Mumford tortures you from time to time with his claws when he’s feeling feisty. You’re also completely separated from those asshole t-shirts and blouses in the next closet over. You no longer have to mingle with them, thank goodness.

I’m sure the feeling is mutual when I say that we are frenemies. Some of you are just so wonderful, shaping my body ever so nicely while the rest of you, I’m certain, are trying to kill me.

I’ll start off with you lovely sweatpants. There are just so many of you: the Catalina Island Sweatpants, the Old-Navy-Random-Purchase Sweatpants, the Forever-21-And-It-Only-Cost-2-Dollars Leggings, the Yoga-Pants-I-Bought-When-I-Was-A-Size-Zero-And-No-Longer-Fit-In. You are all my buds. We’ve had so many cuddle sessions together, and I wouldn’t trade them in for the world. I’m sorry to many of you for the accidental coffee spill from time to time when I was startled or got excited about something. We’ve watched the entire series of Mad Men together, and you’re definitely the type I would like to die in a plane crash with, if the situation were to occur. Sorry, jeans. At least I would die comfortable. You’re the first pants I reach to when I get home from work.

ddsd

You’re the perfect attire to eat in. You allow me to be a bottomless pit and I love you for it. Cashews? Screw cashews. Give me french fries.

Back to the jeans. You guys are terrible friends. The only thing I like about you is the fact that you make my legs seem long and lean, but it’s a complete lie. In reality, my legs are short and look like stubby fingers. Let’s just push that pro to the side and go over the cons:

  • The daily struggle every morning pulling you over my thighs. It’s like wrestling a bear.
  • Praying they are going to zip up without that awkward opening as if I went to the bathroom and forgot to zip my pants back up.
  • That uncomfortable and painful scar you leave across my stomach every day as if I fell asleep on a butcher knife for 6 hours.

^^^ This is why I prefer sweatpants.

But I have news for some of you. Since I have officially shed 12 pounds from my body, I’m gonna have to go Hunger Games on your asses and remove you from the premises. No, Olive Jeans. You can’t volunteer as tribute. You still fit perfectly fine.

Some of you, on the other hand, now fit me so awkwardly I feel like one of those tweens who’s old enough to shop in the juniors section but risk wearing khaki’s that bubble up at the thighs, but will only fit in the Little Miss section and risk wearing jeans with flower patches on the knees like they’re in third grade. I can’t be having that at the age of 25. Sahry.

I’m not going to name names, but some of you will have to say your goodbyes because you’re being stored in a box somewhere for later use. I’m realistic of the fact that I’m sure I’m going to need you again at some point.

We are also moving to a much warmer place, full of sunshine and horrible humidity. Even the ones who are dear enough to stick around, your services will not be needed nearly as much. I’m going to have to start buying more shorts and dresses. I know, I know. Shorts scare you. They are basically you, but with your limbs cut off. Do you want to be covered in my sweat?

I didn’t think so.

This isn’t to say I don’t love all of you. I know what I said before, jeans. But I didn’t mean it. You are there for me when the seasons change and I feel my inner girl freak out at the sight of a dead leaf. I throw you on when the temperature drops to 60. You cover my legs on the days I don’t feel like shaving. You keep me warm and cozy. You give me more confidence than any other piece of clothing.

I’ll be sure to give you the love and respect on the days you are needed. We will do something fun together. Like jump in a pile of leaves or bond with some boots if it gets really cold. I know you’ll miss the boots too.

So, this isn’t goodbye now, or forever. This is a “I’ll catch you on the flip side.” Until then, you do you. Never lose heart.

Yours truly,

Momsicle

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Anecdote, Home, I Wasn't Worried, Thoughts, Travel, You're Fine

I’m Fine I’m Fine I’m Fine

The year 2016, for me, started on January 12th. It didn’t start when the ball dropped in New York City, or when everyone cheered with their champagne glasses. At that point in time, I believe I was in a bathroom of a New Year’s Eve party crying while my friend wiped the mascara off my face, telling me everything was going to be okay.

Many people have complained that 2016 was one of the worst years we have seen in a long time. It was definitely one of the more bizarre years considering the amount of celebrity deaths and America’s recent election. But I don’t review my year based on things like pop culture and politics. I think about the past year and wonder if I became a better version of myself, and if I actually have learned something from my accomplishments and failures.

On January 12th of last year, my car was packed, I said goodbye to my neighbors in California, and I set off back to New Hampshire by myself. As soon as I got out of Orange County and realized I was entering the dusty mountains of Arizona, where gas stations appear once every 45 miles, cell service is scarce, and it seemed as though I was the only person left on the planet driving through the desert, I started to worry. I kept repeating, “I’m fine I’m fine I’m fine.” A little tune similar to Sylvia Plath’s “I am I am I am.” I ignored my morbid thoughts and put on my brave face. For years, I was meant to believe that I couldn’t handle life in general. I was meant to believe that my sense of direction was terrible, mostly because I’m a girl. I was meant to believe that I couldn’t take care of myself, and I was made to feel stupid at times. I’d say it was natural of me to have those thoughts as I started driving thousands of miles alone to places unfamiliar to me. Every town I stopped in for gas, or grabbed food, or just simply needed to use the bathroom, I held tightly onto the mace in my pocket and kept a straight face.

A friend once asked me what my favorite part of the road trip was, and she expected something grand like the skyline of Chicago or New York City. But my favorite part was in the middle of nowhere in northern Texas seeping into Oklahoma. For what seemed like hundreds of miles are fields of giant white windmills. It doesn’t sound exciting but they are hypnotizing. It was in that moment, I felt safe. I felt in control, comfortable, and for the first time, relaxed. I wanted so badly to stop and sit on the hood of my car and watch them turn, but I decided I needed to keep moving.

2016 was one of my better years. I learned a lot about myself that I can either accept or change – I haven’t quite figured that out yet. I’m a naturally impulsive person. I don’t like receiving help unless specifically asked. I’m stubborn. I don’t always speak my mind. I overthink and read too much into almost everything. I rarely take my own advice. I’m independent, yet I rely too heavily on other people. I value my friendships more. I’m able to love unconditionally. I’m okay with rejection because that just means another door opens. I’m a little more optimistic.

I’m looking forward to 2017 not just because it’s a new year. Time is merely an illusion. I’m excited and open for whatever may come. There are still many places to see, people to meet, friends to grow closer with, along with many more accomplishments and failures. I’m a little bit happier with myself than I was a year ago. I will have fantastic days, decent days, and terrible days. But I keep reminding myself that it will be like this for the rest of my life. What really matters is how I look at it.

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Internet Things, Social Media, Thoughts

To My Internet Friends

Here’s a scary story for you:

I was nine-years-old when I entered my first chat room. Don’t ask me how or why I ended up in a chat room at the age of nine because I couldn’t tell you. The internet is a strange place. I got a random message from someone named Ashley asking how I was doing. She seemed nice. She just happened to be nine-years-old too. And just happened to live in blah, blah, blah, (same town) New Hampshire.

What are the odds? I thought.

My mother found me talking to “Ashley” and naturally freaked out and made me log off. She explained that “Ashley” was most likely not nine-years-old, and “Ashley” could have been a man. It clicked for me, and since then, the Internet has scared me.

Of course, times have changed drastically since then. The Internet seems to be our main source of communication. When I first started my blog, I didn’t know what to expect, but one of the first pieces of advice I read from other, more established bloggers was this:

Don’t be afraid to talk to bloggers.

They highly suggested commenting on other blog sites to communicate and engage with them. In the world of blogging, it’s okay to talk to strangers despite what our parents taught us when we were little. In fact, it’s expected of you. I thought about it and realized that it made total sense. How else are you supposed to get traffic on your blog if no one knows you exist?

Once I started communicating with other bloggers, I began forming close friendships with each of them. For some bloggers, we started emailing each other. And for only a couple, we began texting. I started thinking about how I don’t find any of this weird like I used to.

There’s always a chance there is a serial killer loose on WordPress, so there’s no 100% guarantee that you are safe. We immerse ourselves into the lives of other people we find funny and thoughtful that they no longer feel like strangers. I consider some of these bloggers as my best and closest friends.

Now, to someone who doesn’t blog, they may find this concept a bit strange, and a little sad. Let me dispute those feelings. As an introverted person, I can be pretty shy when meeting new people. I can be reserved, quiet, and maybe seem a little boring. It wasn’t until I started blogging that I began feeling a bit more comfortable in my own skin due to the support of my blogging community. Meeting new people intimidated me. I find myself cracking more jokes and being my naturally sarcastic self when in the presence of someone new, and when people laugh or freak out because I just referenced Willy Wonka, it feels like a breath of fresh air. The awkward hump in my shoulder has disappeared.

Whenever I get a message or a text from one of my Internet friends, my day is instantly brighter. These are the type of friends every person should strive for. One blogger in particular has helped me out quite a bit whether he realizes it or not. When I lived in California, I didn’t have many friends, I missed my family, I was unhappy most of the time, and I couldn’t sleep due to stress. This blogger entertained me both on and off WordPress. I’m sure he has no clue how much he helped me since our conversations were mostly about silly topics, but he was and still is a wonderful distraction to the chaos and confusion in my life. For once, it was nice talking to someone about things other than money or jobs. It was nice discussing our favorite TV shows and what college was like for us. It was nice feeling like a kid again. Luckily, I have found other bloggers who give me that same boost of energy. In a way, this is why I blog – I never want to lose sight of these people.

It’s complicated explaining these friendships to outsiders mostly because I’ve never met these friends of mine, except for one. As bloggers, we try our best to show our most charming selves whether it’s self-deprecation, our talents, our accomplishments, or our humor. I understand that many of my friends could be entirely different in person, which is hard for me to grasp. For all I know, these people could have qualities that are so hateful or rude or narcissistic, but you’ll never know until you meet them. Or they may not even like me in person, which is just as terrifying to think about. I talk to a few of these bloggers nearly every day, sometimes all day long. It’s hard for me to not bring them up in conversation with other people. They’re in my life and that can’t be ignored.

Does it bother me that I’ve never met these people? Absolutely. I hate not being familiar with their facial expressions, or what truly makes them laugh, or even what their laugh sounds like. I don’t get the full package but merely a piece of them in small increments. When you confide in someone, not only are you listening to them, but you’re watching them speak. I believe you don’t truly know what a person is thinking until you observe them in conversation. We all have a fixed idea of what each of us are like in real life, so I understand the appeal of staying behind the computer screen because that image could be tarnished forever if met face to face. But I’m still, and will forever be curious to no end.

My point in this post is this: I may never meet some of you. Ever. One day, one of us will stop blogging and will never hear from each other again. It’s a scary thought, but it’s a fact. So to my blogging and Internet friends, just know, I’m grateful for your existence. I wouldn’t be who I am today without you. I appreciate and cherish your friendship, and hope that it will continue for many years to come.

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Humor, Internet Things, Thoughts

101 Things That Make Me Happy

1.) The weeks leading up to fall, and I wake up to a foggy morning.

2.) When my cat follows me around everywhere.

3.) Losing myself in my thoughts while driving.

4.) Long drives

5.) When someone tickles me, no matter how ticklish I am.

6.) The way a dog wags its tail when they look at me.

7.) Strawberries

8.) My Nana’s pet names for me: “Sweetie”, “Schnookums”, and “Slut”

9.) The way my family members name off every child before eventually figuring out my name.

10.) Bar stools – they are the perfect place to talk.

11.) Cheesy Fries

12.) Graphic T’s

13.) Twitter group chats

14.) When my nephew asks me to read him a bedtime story.

15.) Painting

16.) Cider doughnuts

17.) Smelling books

18.) Gossiping with my hair dresser

19.) When my cat sucks on my finger

20.) Bread

21.) Italian food

22.) Holding hands

23.) Tree branches

24.) Buttercup flowers

25.) Reading

26.) Spooning

27.) Long walks, alone

28.) Watching previews at the movies

29.) Dumping M&M’s into my popcorn

30.) Croissants

31.) Body pillows

32.) Swimming pools

33.) Waking up to birds chirping, knowing spring is approaching.

34.) Sleeping in

35.) The smell of coffee

36.) Going out to breakfast

37.) Staying in and watching movies with my mom

38.) The way penguins run

39.) Rolls on a bulldog

40.) The Starbucks “You Are Here” Collection

41.) Singing “Sweet Caroline” at Fenway

42.) Pulling apart and reorganizing my book shelf

43.) When someone laughs at my jokes

44.) Dancing

45.) Slipping under the covers right before bed

46.) Baking

47.) Feeling a baby kick inside a pregnant belly

48.) A hot shower

49.) Thinking about when I was a kid and helped my Grampy peel corn for dinner.

50.) Melted Nutella

51.) Fireplaces

52.) Hot Cocoa during a snow storm

53.) Christmas lights

54.) Music

55.) Quilts

56.) When someone whispers in my ear

57.) Shopping for presents

58.) Sun bathing

59.) Hearing a baby laugh

60.) Cherry Blossoms

61.) Putting on makeup

62.) Train rides

63.) Purring cats

64.) The sound of waves crashing

65.) Feeling the warmth of a coffee mug

66.) New pens

67.) When my sisters and I start singing and dancing to Michael Jackson and Cyndi Lauper

68.) When my friend Colleen sings karaoke

69.) Going through old boxes of memories

70.) Cooking dinner for myself

71.) Singing in the shower

72.) Getting in a cleaning mode

73.) Sniffing candles

74.) Browsing through bookstores

75.) Receiving handmade cards from my five-year-old niece

76.) Vintage stores

77.) Passing by the fields of windmills in Texas and Oklahoma

78.) Watching the kiss cam in arenas

79.) Making s’mores

80.) Socks

81.) Pancakes – preferably chocolate chip pancakes

82.) Lounging in my towel twenty minutes after I’ve showered

83.) Funky sunglasses

84.) Dusting

85.) Listening to Grampy tell riddled jokes

86.) The way my mom’s cats talk to me

87.) Chinese food

88.) Church bells

89.) Horseback riding

90.) Playing with goats

91.) Bathrobes

92.) Flash mobs

93.) Shooting stars

94.) Are you ever up so late at night, and it’s dead quiet outside, but you still hear this weird humming noise in the distance? It must be the highway, but you’re never sure. I love that sound.

95.) Summer dresses

96.) When I overhear guys talking sports

97.) Waking up to drool on my pillow

98.) Postcards

99.) Scarves

100.) When my aunt’s dog jumps into the pool

101.) Making lists

Please share some happy things with me 🙂

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