The other day, my new dude, Juan, and I were talking about breakups. We both went through bad ones in the past six months or so and he has a female friend who’s in the drinking-and-crying stage of a breakup now. (‘Tis the season, I guess?) After they hung out, Juan told me he could still recall the sting she’s feeling right now.
“I remember how that is: feeling like no one is ever going to love you in the same way again,” he said. “You feel at that time like it couldn’t possibly happen ever again … even though you know logically that it will.”
When he said that, something clicked in me. That’s it. That’s the anxiety that I have been feeling these past three months after the end of a love affair. I have a complete willingness to get back on the saddle but have been feeling like no one is ever going to love me “in the same way again.” The feeling — for whatever reason — that I had only one chance at this.
Tila Tequila gets, like, 45 shots at love. Why did I convince myself that I don’t get more than one? Keep reading »
Karma’s a bitch, dude. This morning, I was frolicking through Starbucks, smiling to myself about how awesome my life has gotten. On Friday, I’m moving out of my parents’ house and into my own apartment. Today I woke up next to my new Gentleman Caller the night after we decided to date each other exclusively. The sun is shining. The birds were trilling. Tra la la la la la la!
And then I ran into the woman whose ex-boyfriend cheated on her with me two years ago. A woman who didn’t respond to my multiple apologetic emails because, let’s be honest, she probably hates my putrid guts. Keep reading »
Blind dates are awkward for everyone. There’s enough to worry about without discovering that your date just so happens to be your long, lost sibling. Um … yeah. Try recovering from that awks moment. And here I was thinking I had had the most awkward blind date of all time. He told me he was under investigation by the FBI during our first drink. Keep reading »
This month, I turned 22. Young, I know, but for me the birthday served as another float in the parade of reality that my graduation day is marching closer with each passing moment. Instead of the usual array of fun and frivolous gifts wrapped in brightly colored paper, far too many people chose to get me “work clothes” for my birthday this year.
I am graduating from New York University in May. And it’s not just others who are preparing me for the life change that’s about to happen. Each morning, I wake up and remind myself that I need to get a job—and not of the smoothie shop variety. I’ve spent more time than I care to admit contemplating how to craft the perfect employer-alluring business card and website. And if all this worrying, wondering and work wardrobing wasn’t enough, almost every conversation I have had with someone 25+ over the past five months has turned into a mental probing of my potential to deal with “the future.” Keep reading »