Guys. I fucked up.
I broke the number one rule.
Maybe not in the order that I wrote them, but the most important rule of any non-realistic relationship.
I caught feels. Big time.
So. Since I went to Texas, I’ve been chatting with a guy I met there through mutual friends. He was incredibly sexy, but I was way too shy to make a move. At one point he was in the bathroom with me (Texas showers are confusing, okay?) And we were talking, and guys, the sexual tension: out of this world. I have never wanted to kiss someone so badly. Which says a lot considering I hate kissing. Anyway, there was no kiss. And we spent another night together but I left without any Texas BBQ if you know what I mean.
So fast forward three months. We talk daily. And he makes me so happy. And he recently went to visit family close to the border and I begged him to sneak away for the day so we could hang out. And he did.
I’m not joking when I say it was the best date I’ve ever been on. It’s been a week and I still can’t stop smiling about him and our day. I still think about how his hand felt in mine. How he twirled me around in the casino. How he joked about us spending our life savings on slot machines. Our first kiss, soft and slow, and how as the day progressed they got deeper, more passionate, as if trying to turn one kiss into a million.
Guys. I fucking cried when I left. Me. The one who claims she doesn’t feel anything.
I caught the feels bad.
Last night I was chatting up multiple guys.
I’m getting ghosted.
Okay guys. I’m torn right now.
For anyone who’s been following my antics you know that I’m just establishing myself in a new city as a single, decently average looking lady. And I’ve been spending minimal time using some dating apps (seriously, I jump on maybe once a week) swiping some cuties. And I matched with this one guy.
He’s nice. And intelligent. And cute. And I think he has a lot of money (which never hurts). But he also dabbles with hard drugs.
Now. I’m not looking for a husband. Or a baby daddy or any of that shit. I’m not here to tell anyone how to live their lives, especially someone I barely know. But it honestly terrifies me.
It’s not something I’ve been exposed to. And he does it maybe once a month (or so he says). So here’s my struggle: as some one who has never dabbled in that way, and someone who does not support that habit, can I continue to have a potential hook-up situation with this guy? It would never be more based on that fact alone. But am I okay with it enough to still get what I need from him? I told him I don’t want to be around while he’s on stuff or when he does it and I don’t think that’s asking too much.
Here’s the other thing; I think he may be looking for something more. Last night he told me I’m his dream girl. And then he asked me if I would ever consider moving to the states. I’m not saying he’s in love with me, he hardly knows me, but can I in good health go into this with a straight mind knowing for me it’s nothing more because of his habits? Or is it going to complicate things in the long run?
Okay. So the forbidden fruit. Quote unquote.
Hypothetically lets say there is someone who you know you shouldn’t date. Whether it’s a good friends ex, or a sibling of your BFF or a coworker, or hey, maybe it’s someone in a relationship (I’m not here to judge, you can judge yourself) the forbidden fruit is always so tempting.
Is the risk worth the reward? Is it something worth taking a risk for?
I think it’s dependant on each situation and you really need to make your own choices. For me, there’s a sweet apple on a table. And I kind of want it. I know I shouldn’t. I know it could be bad for me. And honestly for him too.
Someone from my past reached out to me. And I’m not going to say anything else about how I know him, but we chatted for a bit and to me, there seemed to be some sexual tension in the chat. So I asked my girlfriend to decipher.
I’ve put the initial flirting on him. He started it. But she pointed out to me that I may have instigated it too. I said I just looped back to the topic. Which okay, I did do that. But I wanted to see if he was serious. It sounds like he was.
I’m also horrible at reading people. Maybe I’m misreading the tone, because text is impossible to convey tone. So do I go with no intentions of it being anything but catching up with a friend? Or do I tell him I can’t due to the forbiddenness of the situation, and then be really uncomfortable when he says it wasn’t like that? Part of me wants to say don’t go because I know it could impact both of us negatively, however, he said he wants to take me to a high end steak house … and the girls gotta eat.
Guys. I can’t help it. I have a massive camel toe.
I’m sorry. Well not really. #sorrynotsorry
I’ve tried different pants. Different gitch. Different heights. There’s nothing I can do about it. I’ve even dubbed the nickname “toes” from it.
My life is a mess, but one consistency is me having that toe.
Tonight I spent over three hours on the phone with my best friend. She’s been my ride or die since I was three, we are now twenty four. But enough background on that, here are some reasons why.
1. She initiated and closed the deal on a booty call while on the phone with me.
2. She pooped while on the phone with me.
3. She kept me company while I bought light bulbs, went grocery shopping, and got dinner.
4. She put up with me ignoring her while I attempted to catch a Jynx on Pokemon go (fact: it got away after wasting 5 balls)
5. She let me call her ugly (even though she’s a solid 13/10 on a bad day).
6. She didn’t call me a complete moron when I casually dropped that I’ve talked to my ex somewhat recently.
7. She gave me great dating advice (it was, if you only have time for one thing, brushing your teeth or shaving your legs before a date always pick brushing your teeth).
8. She talked to me for over three hours, and I feel like half the time we weren’t even talking but she didn’t hang up.
9. She lets me send her all my tinder matches and confirms whether he’s cute or not (some pictures are deceiving).
Reasons why she’s not my best friend
1. She wouldn’t let me just stay on the phone while she hooked up with this guy.
Honestly I kind of get that one but still…
I’ve accepted it.
And hopefully not soon. But it’s a high chance. With the amount of hours I’m working, plus the hour drive each way, plus the amount of time I need to sleep, unless I meet someone at my work or in my apartment complex, it’s just not going to happen.
So stalkers. Hit me up.
That’s how my employee described me today. Ice in my veins. Cold hearted. I talk a big game about how I don’t care about things. And things don’t bother me. They do; but I’ve gotten really good at shrugging them off.
The truth is, I’m a little bitch. I’ve shut myself down because I get too emotional. And I write about it and release it all at a more appropriate time.
But that aside, I’m an idiot. I’ll always be the first to admit it. I’m an absolute fucking moron.
I’m trying this whole friendship thing with my ex. And I think it’s only working because I now live two hours away and he no longer knows where I live so I can’t just ask him to come over and he can’t just pop by.
And I know I shouldn’t. But when you spend over five years with someone (I’ll do a post about our relationship another day) it’s hard to let that go to nothing. If we can’t date, and we can’t because I know it won’t work, then we should be able to be friends, right? He knows my ins and my outs. My self proclaimed flaws and my weaknesses. He knows what I strive on and what makes me tick. And sometimes he reminds me of things I’ve forgotten about myself. But it’s hard. Because it’s easy to fall back into a routine. Back into someone you know who is familiar. And maybe I’m starting to get a little scared that I work so much that I don’t have time to meet new people and I have yet to make a friend here in the city. But I think maybe it’s one of those weeks.
I know next week I’ll — hopefully — remind myself of all the great things I’ve done since we split. And all the great things I’m continuing to do. But at night, when I’m laying in bed solo it’s hard not to want someone here. And maybe I don’t miss him, but the idea of someone… I guess I’ll figure it out eventually.
So tonight I come to you with a broken heart.
It’s a tragic love story – almost as tragic as Romeo and Juliet, but without the trick-suicide.
I met this guy just over a year ago in Amsterdam. And he was so kind, and friendly, and he bought me dinner. We spent three days somewhat together, sleeping in the same bed frame (although technically he was in the top bunk, but details), and then we parted way – him to France, me to England. And I didn’t even get his name.
However, I social stocked the shit out of him, and managed to find him one very little knowledge (and his name was Andrew, and he lived in LA – that was pretty much the extent of it. FBI, if you’re looking for someone to find people, I’m your girl). And throughout the past year, I’ve added (and slightly obsessed over) him on Insta and Twitter.
Any time he likes anything I post I assume it’s because he loves me. And I fantasise about him telling his friends all my funny posts and showing them pictures of me and how I’m so adorable.
But tonight – I drank the poisoned drink.
I happened upon his instagram page (I got a push notification that he posted to his story – I swear I wasn’t out creeping), and I looked through it, and he has a girlfriend.
This is the guy I’ve jokingly told my friends that we’re in love – he just didn’t know it. And any time he liked my things I’d screenshot it and send it to my girlfriend who would almost always reply “marry him”. My heart aches tonight.
Another one lost before it was even found.
Hold onto him girl. Harder than I never got the chance to.
Sleeping alone is something that I’m still getting accustomed to again. After being in a relationship for six years it’s hard to go from sleeping next to someone (sharing their warmth and getting used to their breathing noises) to nothing. So when I first became newly single it was a struggle. I mean it still is. But in my earlier days if I was falling asleep before four am it was a good night. Now I’m usually out by two. But, that being said, there are definite perks.
Firstly, I can sleep like a starfish without either being woken up with a “can you move over” or hearing about it the next day.
Secondly, I can fart all I want in bed and I’m not worried about being polite or grossing anyone out.
Thirdly, no one to have the classic blanket tug of war with.
Fourthly, no one to keep me up with their snoring.
And finally, which admittedly I still miss once in a while, no more of the night time “are you still awake” thrust. Or the “good morning” boob pawing.
They say let sleeping dogs lie. This bitch too.