✨Wise, witty, gen-x, single mom shares life experiences to help you #HealHealthy 💋 #1Yos #1YearOfSingle #1YosOriginals✨
Dear God, I just cried in my office! For any of you that think caffeine doesn’t affect some people, think again.
For about three months I went on the Caffeine Wagon. Life was awesome. Things were great! Love and happiness were abound! Whoohoo!
Enter one breakup and multiple cups of caffeine and I’m insane. And – sorry to horrify you with this, but – mix in pms and it’s a recipe for complete emotional psychosis. One minute I’m conquering the world, the next I’m either wanting to punch people or crying like a lunatic, like the toddler photo that surfaces when you Google “crying.”
Caffeine, screw you with all your Alertness promises. I’m getting a punching bag, box of tissues and drinking water from now on.
I just have to finish this last iced latte…
Huge thanks to Andra Watkins, urban wallart, Ray Ferrer, Audio Sexxx, Gabriel Lucatero, A Hot Cup of Love, Lesley Carter, Ben’s Bitter Blog, and FlirtatiousSu for the Likes and Follows! ❤ 1 Year of Single
Let me introduce you to Jack. My friend, Jen, introduced me to Jack a few years back, and while he amuses the snot out of me, I can’t get rid of him. For example:
“Omg, Jen, he’s been tellin’ me he’s going to judge the city’s Best Body contest! Wtf?”
Jenn: What?! That’s Jacked!
Jack is a mo-fo. He’s everywhere. Car won’t start? It’s Jacked. Boyfriend slobbered on a two-timing ho last night? He’s Jacked. Sometimes the universe is even Jacked… Yeah, that’s the moment that we hang our head for a moment of silence. “It’s the universe,” Jen reminds me, “It’s Jacked.”
“Omg! My alarm didnt go off! Omg it’s 6 o’clock!” I jumped out of bed with a faux razor-sharp clear mind that only waking-up late can provide.
The thing that annoys me – being a girl – is that as soon as I wake up, thoughts of what “he’s” doing flood my mind. I doubt men go through similar issues. I mean really, what do they think about – farting and morning woodies? Hardly a mind-bending emotional annoyance. If anything, they announce their morning issues with verve. “Hey Pauly look – my woody is bigger than yesterday! You’ll never see a girl run to her balcony and announce her morning ailments proudly, “Hey Jen – I can’t stop thinking about my ex! Whoohoo!!”
And yet I’m suppose to be elated that I recognized the potential of disaster with the ex and cut the “relationship” off early? I haven’t gotten there yet. I almost miss the days of purposely ignoring the right move because I would have gotten a few more dates out of it. But as it stands, I did the right thing and am left feeling the loss.
It’s crap. I need to have bitches rallied around me, quoting Sherry Argov’s book, Why Men Love Bitches, just to reinforce my You-Did-The-Right-Thing validation.
Total thinking-about-relationships overload. I hate thinking about it this much. I’m glad the effects of the morning alarm situation are wearing off and the hum of the train is lulling me to sleep… … … But now I’m thinking, I bet guys don’t have blogs dedicated to their morning woodies… Or do they??
There’s a bible out there that I have to tell you all about. An awesome friend of mine, Jen, told me about this book and I have to pass it on to all of you. And when I say, “bible,” I mean an authority on the subject. The subject: being a bitch. The bible: Why Men Love Bitches. Oh, Sherry Argov, I love your book – and I love you. This fits my “1 Year of Single” challenge perfectly!
What makes me sick, however, is that deep down inside I already knew the contents of this book, but like a typical female, I talked myself out of taking care of myself. Now, that’s painful if you consider the numerous years that I wasted 1.) trying to repair failing relationships only to inadvertently screw them up and 2.) I could have gotten so many more things done for myself.
Who knew that if I took care of myself, everything would have fallen in line? My stuck-in-the-’50s mother taught me to give, give, give – give til you’re depleted! Yet, that never worked for her. And now – what’s more ironic – is that it’s 2013 and countless women are still giving, giving, giving and are still getting depleted, depleted, depleted. It makes me want to poke all of our stuck-in-the-’50s mothers in the eyeballs with lemon-loaded fork prongs.
…When I think of the time I wasted that I could have been spending taking care of me! UHG…
It’s almost scary to consider that I can do whatever I want for a whole year. I can say “no thanks” to a guy because I’m off the hook for a year! No guilt, no explanations. I won’t have to explain to my friends why I said “no” to Captain Cutie, because they’ll already know that I swore-off dating for a year. And think about those family get-togethers. No more, “I may know a good guy for you,” who turns out to be a three-time DWI champion who lives in his parent’s moldy basement. No thanks – I’m doing the “1 Year of Single” challenge!
This whole Bitch thing encompasses so many possibilites. It’s quite empowering to realize that I can actually take care of me with no guilt. No guilt! Photography? Check! Margaritas with the girls? Check! Comedy Clubs? Check! Wine bars! Double check!
Men must feel like this all the time. No wonder they don’t want to be in relationships. I feel so free.
But doing what I want isn’t the only thing that being a bitch entails. In the next year I’m going to thoroughly utilize those glorious points in Sherry’s book. And oh yes, you’ll get to hear about it.
I don’t know one person who hasn’t been dumped like a five pound sack of bloody horse heads into the East River. And generally after you’ve broken up with someone, chances are that you feel like that horse head: discombobulated, disconnected and discarded.
I’ve had the all-out displeasure of having to dump myself from the last two relationships. One was a game player and the other was married. And what’s worse is that I had to end the relationships because part of me really wanted to remain in ignorant bliss. But I’ve learned too much in the past years to keep going with any relationship that’s probably going to end badly anyway.
But it doesn’t make it any easier and it certainly doesn’t make me feel like a winner. “But you did win,” said my friend, Joe. “Your prize is not being in a shitty relationship.”
Please. That hardly feels like a prize.
Frankly, I’m sick of “winning” in this format. It’s like winning a car and you discover it’s a Pinto.
1YearOfSingle 