Well, I had no idea my unintentional hiatus lasted that long. Due to the nature of the circumstances I was experiencing at the time, I suppose it makes all the sense in the world.
If there’s one thing I learned the hard way, is that relationships and I will never get along. During my 18 month hiatus, I decided to give my now 2nd most hated ex boyfriend another chance. We actually started planning out our future which would involve marriage and me moving from NYC to Virginia. At first glance, I thought I was going to put my single girl ways behind me. But, just as life would have it, I wouldn’t get my happy ending, someone else did instead.
Bitter? It took 3 months to get over the fact that I had the wool over my eyes but eventually, I got over it. Am I thankful? Fuck yes. Why? Because I was going to be in a contractual agreement called marriage when in reality, I wasn’t about that life. Children? I’ll just spoil my baby cousins instead.
Where does this leave me? This past October, I turned 30 and the pressures to conform to the social norms have never been stronger. What I vowed myself is to continue to go against the grain and just live my life.
What does this mean for Broke Single Girl? My dedication, complete dedication. For the the first time since I was 18, it’s not about someone else. Still feeling that vacation bliss from visiting Miami last week, I’m going to be selfish as fuck.
For those who stuck around, you guys are the real MVP. And if you’re new, welcome. I have a feeling we’re going to go on a crazy adventure and I can not wait.
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.
The concept of feelings make me extremely uncomfortable. Nothing stresses me out more than things I have no control over. Yes, I have control tendencies due to my intense analytical nature. Having the mindset of having the need to break things down into pieces can be both a blessing and a curse. When it comes to me wanting to attempt an actual relationship, my mind goes into full-blown panic mode. Why? Because I had adapted a lifestyle that included thoughtless sex that anything more than that would render my brain catatonic.
What’s a woman to do when the feels come to fruition? In all honestly, I do one of two things: purposely sabotage the relationship in the infancy stage or constantly binge drink so that my potential boyfriend thinks I’m a raging alcoholic. Terrible methods? Yes, extremely but they are highly effective. There has been instances where both my methods were not successful. Thankfully, I can make myself disappear in those worse case scenarios. Nothing makes my skin crawl than having the feels.
Does this mean that I will never have those vomit-inducing feelings towards a guy that people like Nicolas Sparks has successfully exploited for profit? Quite possibly but my girl friends would tell me otherwise. They would remind me how much of a “catch” I am and that I will find the love of my life. I mean, I’m not completely ruling this out but then again, my almost black lungs can’t afford to hold my breath. The last thing I want to do is to hold out for a hero when I could be hitting the bars and making out with complete strangers. If it so happens that I might have had a one night stand with my “soul mate” but I didn’t want to wait until the next morning to find that out. Too many booty calls and not enough hours in the day. This is especially the case when it comes to the feels; nobody has time to waste on that nonsense.
Don’t get me wrong, I love being single. The thought of being able to stay out until 4 am, drinking and hanging with friends without hearing someone complain about it is quite amazing. With people shacking up faster than the speed of light scares me a little. I mean, who would have thought 26, going on 27 would seem old in the settling down department? Not me, that’s for sure.
Pictures of keg stands and statuses about being hungover are being replaced with friends changing their relationship status to engaged or married. Let’s clear up one thing, I’m not bitter or resentful towards them. Everyone finds their zone of happiness at different points of their life and I haven’t found mine yet.
The journey starts here. Sure, I have a double Bachelor’s degree in English and Music but it doesn’t pay the bills quite yet. I love my retail job because honestly, they treat me the way I deserve to be, with respect. As I sip on my PBR tallboy (for those in the dark, a tallboy beer is a 16oz can) before $1 beer night, I reflect on my awesome single life. I mean, not having a stable relationship in the last 4 years isn’t a bad thing, right? I love to date around and testing the waters. I mean, why buy something without trying it on right?
Folks, that’s my mantra for love and I’m sticking to it.