Ain’t Nobody Got Time for That.

Ah, yes. Recently, I’ve been getting asked that infuriating question as I approach the big 2-8. It would get paraphrased in ways such as ‘Shouldn’t you settle down already?’, ‘You’re getting too old for one-night stands’, or my personal favorite, ‘You can’t really afford to be picky with guys at your old age’.

Let’s go back in time shall we?

Since the beginning of this millenium, I was not single. Yes, I was that person that was in relationship after relationship until I was 26. That’s more than a decade of not being single and always having a guy breathing down my neck. I will admit that I had daddy issues growing up in a sense that I felt the need of validation from a man to feel complete. There was a time in my life that being in a relationship, good or bad, was the key to my happiness. Now? Not so much.

10 boyfriends, 2 fiances and thousands of tears dropped, I feel like I’m truly living. I mean, there were breaks in between relationships while in college where I did have a friend or two but nothing to the degree that I am experiencing right now. To truly be free to do what I want and not giving any fucks is the most liberating sensation I have ever felt. Example? When I was with my first fiance from 17-20, I couldn’t even go to a dorm party that was down the hall. Now that I can do what I want, going out on a Tuesday night and pounding $1 bud lights then making out with a hot guy is what I do on a weekly basis.

I’m not saying that I wouldn’t be accepting of meeting an amazing guy and falling in love. What the point is, that is I’m not looking vigorously for it. There is nothing that can tell me that being single when I’m closer to 30 than 20 is wrong or shameful. Every person works on their own time frame and there needs to be an understanding of that. Yes, I like being single and having fun because I didn’t get to truly experience it before turning 25. You could  say I’m playing catch up but then again, who asked for your opinion bro?

Before you shun that really great friend of yours for not getting married, put yourself in their shoes. They’re saving a shit ton of money from not planning a wedding or feeding a miniature human life form so if they want to go to Bali or Madrid on a whim, they could. They are the jet-setters, the social butterflies and the risk takers. Living life the best way possible and on their own terms. If I have a bad time taking care of myself with a hangover after a night of binge-drinking with 22 year olds, how could I possibly take care of a tiny life form. Clearly, your expectations of me are unrealistic.

Now, if you don’t mind, I might go galavanting and drink some cheap brews because I can do whatever the fuck I want.

Too-la-loo fuckers,



The Joke Is On Them, Not Me.


You know how they say hindsight is 20/20? I’m pretty sure the quote had originated by a person who had a really bad breakup. We’ve all had our fair share of stage 5 clingers and stupid douchebags but you’ve survived, right? Guaranteed, if you initiated the break-up, you’ve heard this line paraphrase during the intense verbal argument.

“I’m the best thing you’ve ever had!!”

Seriously bro? I would highly think so being that I’ve taken it upon myself to end this poor excuse of a relationship. Granted, 10 years ago I would have dealt with some whiny ass bitch because for some bizarre reason, I had low self-esteem. Whatever, let’s not get into that wack-ass stage of my life. I guess the point that I’m trying to reach is that these little punks have such a distorted view of themselves that it’s hilarious.

Let Melissa tell you a story real quick.

So I was dating this cute little Greek and Puerto Rican boy from Williamsburg that I actually liked a lot. How much, you say? Enough to ride that shitty ass G train and walk adjacent to the Marcy Project (HOV!). We hooked up quite a bit because that’s what people who don’t want to get married do in their late Twenties. Here’s the kicker though, it was 75% take and 25% give from his side, which drove me fucking nuts. Bro, I don’t ride the train an hour each way to not get my share, ya dig? After this went on for a few weeks, I told this kid that I was messing around with my college ex-boyfriend, just to get him mad. Honestly, I get enjoyment out of other people’s misery. I love smart phones for the pure fact that I was able to block him easily.

Fast-forward to recently…

I ran into homeboy in Astoria at the bar by his new place, apparently. To me, it seemed that he forgot about our falling out because after a shot of Jameson, we were sucking face. I decided to fuck with him again and made the choice to go home. This night, I was buying my drinks with cash so it made it effortless to walk out of the bar. While the session of hot and heavy making out, I realized why he was so fucking clingy and stupid.

He liked the way I did certain things.

Yes, I’m know for performing certain acts with apple skill. So as I’m walking away, he starts running after me and tries to get me to at least talk. Silly boy, talking is for children. I turn to tell him off and he attempts to beat me to the punch by saying, “You came crawling back because you realized how great I was.”

Snarky as fuck, I retorted, “If the that was the case, why were up my ass. Just remember, you’ll never have your baby dick touch marvelously by another woman in your life.” I kept walking. I know I’m good and what I do and it’s a double-edged sword. How you ask? Because guys don’t know how to handle the spectacle in front of them and they get needy. Ladies, if you’re on my caliber, don’t show the word. Take that as a word of caution.




Holy Lame Ass, Batman!!


Well, what an uneventful Summer it has been thus far.

To my followers, I completely appologize for being the lamest person in the entire universe. In my defense, I’ve been working so much that I’ve actually gotten lighter. No tan, no beer gardens, no fucking fun since Fleet Week.

So what should I write about? With the massive amount of hours I’ve clocked in at the salt mines, I haven’t had time to sleep, let alone binge drink. Oh man, I miss staying at the bar until 7 am and letting an Irish boy take me to his home.

I feel like that neglectful mother that feeds her 15 children Alpo Dog Food. Rest assured, I need to at least give you guys that good shit.