Bla, bla, bla. Vol. 1

We’ll start this post out with a list of things I like to do that normal people probably wouldn’t understand, or condone:
Take a second shower before I relax simply because I’m cold, too stubborn to turn the heater on in May & too cool to wear pants.
Not let the new car smell linger in my vehicle.
Change my razor way too infrequently (because they’re basically the price of gold).
Not buy expensive makeup.
Refuse to date boys within a 30 mile radius.

Now that we’ve got that out of the way, Hi!
How have you guys been?
I feel like I haven’t been on the sofa, or in front of these keys in way. too. long.
And as I stood at the counter this evening, making dinner, I opened up my Reader to find that I haven’t missed much. What’s happening? I think summer is approaching and people feel compelled to be outside, rather than hulled up indoors on the internet. I think that’s where I’ve been. At gatherings, and driving, and walking (oh my).

But, tonight – I’m here.
I’m hammering away at these keys, and I’m scouring the internet with my (huge) eye balls.

I’m not sure what’s going on, recently. Well, no. That’s a lie.  I have been feeling unsettled again, and I think it’s due to unclear shifts about to take place at my job. Ever since our massive layoff at the end of March, everyone in my position has been given this “change is coming, it’s for the best, don’t freak out” memo. Over. and over. and over again. When someone tells me not to freak out, they usually don’t follow with good news. So, I definitely know the changes will take some adjusting. Some getting used to. I’m terrified the rumors are true, and I will lose the daily interactions I have with customers. I fear I’ll be moved to a behind-the-scenes team player role. I fear I will soon loathe waking up and going to work each morning. & it’s giving me anxiety. It’s making me nauseous. I’m having trouble swallowing. & breathing erratically. I’m not as happy as I was just weeks ago. and it’s all out of my control.

In the midst, I’ve lost 2lbs. Possibly the stress & nausea. Possibly because I’ve stopped my ration of 4 cupcakes per week. I convinced myself that that much sugar was probably doing more harm than good. But, I miss my 2lbs so I will probably rotate them back into the meal plan. next week.

I’ve still been talking to GOP guy. I even told him I wrote about him. He wasn’t sure what to think about being referred to as “Good on Paper,” but I think I smoothed that over. He still wants to come visit me, anyway. Something else over which I am torn (and probably anxious). I’ve also been talking to another boy from a few States away, and he’s his own kind of very intriguing. Plus, I’ve still got the bad habit here in town I’m trying to kick.

I briefly wrote about my stint in online dating a couple of weeks ago. Well, app dating, to be more accurate. It didn’t work out well for me. And in hindsight, I completely understand why. I am never going to be the type of girl that meets the love of her life in a forced scenario. There has to be a split-second spark. There has be to a meet-cute. There can’t be a DM, or a sexting escapade before there’s witty banter and catching eyes. There might be for a ton of people – but there never will be for me. So, I’ve completely retired from that whole experience.

I’ve almost retired from men, as a species. But, almost only counts in horseshoes & hand-grenades – as my father says. I’m still holding on to a glimmer of hope. Somehow. (Some days). Some days, though, I wake up and I have an overwhelming feeling that it’s never going to happen for me. That buying a small condo, or townhouse, and hosting parties for friends & being the hot aunt will be my calling instead. Because, after nearly 28 years, I’m losing hope. I don’t mean I’m losing hope for love, in general. I look around and see love everywhere (literally, there aren’t 2 people I know that aren’t seeing someone). But losing hope for me. Losing hope of the *ahem* American Dream. It isn’t a choice, so don’t try to talk me out of it. It’s a feeling. I just catch myself picturing my wedding day – and drawing a huge blank. Where I used to see exposed brick & striped bow ties, cupcakes & a candy bar, my parents laughing & my husband kissing my cheek – I see nothing. I don’t think anyone will ever get down on one knee & accept me for all that I am. The homebody. The anxious wreck. The gym rat. Nobody that I love, too, anyway.

BUT I did say almost.
Because there are a few boys that keep the dream alive. Like a life-support machine in the hospital.
There’s GOP guy. There’s few states away guy. There’s the guy I saw at the gym today who completely rocked my world. He’s the front runner, but he doesn’t have a name because I was too chicken shit to open a conversation when I looked like someone shit on me, and he looked like the man of my dreams. Literally. Tall. Toned just enough. Sandy blonde hair. Perfect skin. Blue eyes, that caught mine a time or two. I’d never seen him before, so I probably won’t see him again – but I’ll hope like Hell that I do. Because someone like that is the only person I’ll ever marry. Someone who catches my attention from across a room and holds it for 9+ hours.

Well, sorry, no lessons this week. Nothing to bring full circle. Just me, my ripped up baggy jeans, my Apple TV, my furry blanket, my little Zero & that second shower to warm me up that I mentioned earlier.




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