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Day 1.2: It's Official

June 5. It's done. My un-relationship. Commence the actual first day of being "single" Last night I saw Dawson. An old friend and guy I kinda went out with a few times. Then even later I spent 3 1/2 hours talking to my un-boyfriend and deciding, ultimately, that attempting to date was not a good idea. I feel all the usual feelings: sad, hurt, lonely, scared, confused, frustrated... But more than that I feel relieved. I know that we made the right decision, and I really do believe it was a mutual decision. Yes, I told him that I love him, and I do, but I also know that I don't want to be with someone that doesn't want to be with me. I think, on some level I have known it wasn't right between us for a long time. In little moments and bigger life beliefs. Right now I'm mad at myself for letting it get this far along, for not standing up for myself sooner, but that's neither here nor there now. So, while so many thoughts swim in my mind, I can't seem to find the right way to express it right now. So I'll try again tomorrow or next week. Eventually the words will come and life will restart and go back to normal.

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Good people are like candles; they burn themselves up to give others light.

Turkish Proverb (via lazypacific)

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Day 33: The Frye Boot Meltdown

Today, a $328 pair of Frye boots made me realize I have no fucking clue what I’m doing with my life. In April, when I first got the stupid idea into my head that I needed to be single for a year - I’m noticing a trend of failure already - I figured that I needed to start everything over and put myself at the center of it all. I moved out of my cousin’s apartment, became a gypsy vagabond, and attempted to kick everyone out of my life (well, kinda). At first I thought this would be freeing: no apartment to worry about, no guy to stress over, no money going towards rent, no obligation to give my time to people... 

It hasn’t been. In fact, this time has been one of the most toxic, paralyzing and depressing times of my life. I have no place to call my own - no space that is mine. I have no boyfriend to rely on in moments of darkness. I have an ok job that I’m not in love with that probably won’t pay me a comfortable living wage anytime soon. I live with a constant feeling of disappointment - knowing that I’m letting my parents down. I have friends that are there for me, but they have their own lives and relationships to go home to.  And then there is just me - the Chelsea that everyone knows, loves and expects - the unwavering, positive, funny, cool, strong, emotionally stable friend that never has problems; I can’t change that person in their minds. 

When I first moved out of my cousin’s, I received a lot of support. My parents offered to let me keep stuff at their place and various friends offered to let me crash on their couches. It all sounded so easy. Pare down your possessions to the ones you really need, cycle through clothing, live off the urban land and just live life. Oh how quickly the idyllic picture was shattered: my dad gave me shit the first day I moved things back into the house, “where do you think you’re going to fit all of that... you know that I am going to need that moved in a month or so.” Cool, thanks dad. I seriously contemplated renting a storage space, but that probably would have just pissed him off more. 

And so it began - the bouncing from place to place, the seeing my friends less and less, the attempt to become truly single, the living out of my car life. And to be honest, I really liked it at first. I was tired of being pulled in a million directions, being walked all over, not standing up for myself. And then it wasn’t so cool. I constantly felt like I was imposing. I realized I missed my friends. I knew I had feelings for a guy I was pretty sure was never going to have them back. I started to wonder: have I just built my own prison? For awhile - and to this day - it often feels as though I have. I am alone with my thoughts, my worries, my fears. I don’t let anyone in, and for good reason that I don’t care to discuss now. But as much as I started to feel alone and as if my life weren’t what I wanted it to be, I was able to realize that this time was just a period of transition - a time to figure some shit out before I made some actually tough decisions (yes Chelsea, you still have to make those). 

And then my shoes went missing. 

I had taken a load of laundry to my parents and during that time I had brought my shoes in as well. In an effort to be the best vagabond possible I had put my 7 most worn shoes into a bag: from old running shoes to my “I can’t believe I paid for these” Frye boots. I had set them in the living room with a bunch of other shit (belonging to various members of my family). I looked at them before I left on Sunday and made a very purposeful decision to leave them. “I will be back in a week to get them,” I told myself... nope. Wile I was gone they were donated with a bunch of other stuff to the local Good Will; I have been crying on and off for the past 2 hours. 

I’m not crying because I lost 5 pairs of shoes. I’m not crying because I can’t wear my converse this weekend or because I will now have to be $350 for some new fucking Frye boots. I’m crying because for the first time since becoming a single, gypsy vagabond I realized how little I actually have my shit together. I have no home. I have a job I don’t love. I have a kinda relationship that I don’t know how much I can invest in. I have a salary that makes finding an apartment almost impossible. I have a family that talks to me like I’m disappointing them. But most of all, I am so fucking disappointed in myself. 

Why can’t I hold onto or take care of the things that I love - whether they are shoes or people? Why can’t I go after what I want? Why can’t I be honest with myself about what I want? WHY AM I CRYING OVER BOOTS WHEN I’M ACTUALLY UPSET ABOUT MY FAMILY AND MY UNBOYFRIEND AND MY LIVING SITUATION?!?!?! 

Sometimes I think we lose things for a reason. We aren’t meant to hold onto things that don’t better us, and if we are lucky we lose them before they destroy us. I think it’s easy to blame others when we lose relationships - it was his fault it didn’t work, or she cheated - but often times we are the reason we lose things. I think I’ve become someone that is meant to lose a lot for a while. I’ve spent a lot of time collecting bad habits: drinking, ED, self hate, guys that don’t give a shit about me, people that take to much from me, material things that make me feel better in the moment but leave me feeling empty inside. Maybe I’m most worried about losing myself. The self that I have become. The self that yelled “fuck you” at my mom on the phone tonight. The self that just sleeps with people because they don’t care about what you have to say over dinner (wait, what dinner). The self that doesn’t express an emotion other than sarcasm, happiness or indifference. The self that is too cool to care about anything that makes me seem weak. What happens when I lose that self and have nothing to hide behind. What happens when I lose all of the walls I have built up and everyone around me realizes they want nothing to do with me - I’m not the person they wanted me to be - this is not what they signed up for. 

Or maybe, worse than all that, this whole thing just shows how little I am able to care for things. I can’t take care of my self. I can’t manage my budget. I can’t keep track of some shoes. I can’t be there for my friends. I can’t build a relationship with a guy. I can’t make my parents happy. It’s just a series of I can’ts. I collection of: “How cute, you thought you could do this. Thanks for playing. Better luck next time” moments. 

All I know for sure is: I have no fucking concept of what is important in life, and I should probably take some time putting it in perspective.  

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Day 30: Maybe I Should Date Someone Older

I’m starting to believe that single-ness is a curse of my age. There seems to be this absolute inability of people my age to say: I like this person; he/she makes me happy; I will tell him/her. Instead we all mill around in awkward silence throwing half glances at one another across crowded coffee shops and grocery store aisles. Why are we so afraid? And what are we afraid of? Why is it that I can talk a mile a minute regarding most topics, but when it comes to telling my un-boyfriend of a year that I like him enough to be more than just fuck buddies, I can’t seem to put a sentence together? Maybe it’s fear of rejection – that horrible moment of, “yeah, this has been fun and all but I’m not looking for more.” Maybe it’s fear of commitment – mostly on my part, “fuck, what happens if he wants this too, and we start a relationship and then it sucks and we break up.” Maybe it’s fear of letting someone actually know us – our hopes, fears, terrible deep dark secrets; because when we keep each other at arm’s length we can continue to hide behind the mask of our best self.

All of these maybes keep me in a constant state of uncertainty. Thus, I don’t normally have moments of complete confidence. I tend to exist between the worlds of “you aint shit” and “you’re pretty fucking cool,” but I certainly don’t spend much time in “Who wouldn’t want to be with you? You’re amazing.”  It usually takes a special interaction with someone to make me see it, to make me feel truly special and worthy. Oddly enough, these usually come in the form of conversations with grandpas.

At 2:43 sitting in the local San Bruno Starbucks, I was fighting with my computer/wifi. I was lost in my own world when a frail, elderly gentleman started talking to me. He held his cane in his left hand and his small iced-mocha-ish drink in his right. I was taken aback and pulled me head-phones from my ears when I noticed he was trying to tell me something. Can I just say: I love that old people don’t give a fuck if you have head-phones in; it’s like they never got the memo that they are the everyday Do Not Disturb sign. His voice was soft and raspy, so I had some trouble understanding him. I caught a “tally-ho” and “God save the queen” and something about “Market Street.” I smiled widely; mostly just glad that he wasn’t complaining to me about something I was doing in that, “you young kids have no idea that you’re ruining the world” way. He went on to tell me that if he met me in the woods I would end up alone (WTF?), and he advised me that I should give him a mean look should I see him there (again, huh?). I awkwardly laughed – clearly pretending to understand what he was talking about but sincerely having no fucking clue. He then said, “you have the most beautiful smile,” and at that point I realized he was complimenting me – telling me he would be taken with me if he had met me somewhere (IDK, maybe that’s really creepy and serial killer-esque, but I found it adorable). He thought I was beautiful and just wanted to let me know. This isn’t the first time something like this has happened to me, but it’s the first time I’ve decided to reflect on it.

Why is it that a sweet, strange grandpa isn’t afraid to compliment me, but someone that I’m dating won’t? Or make a plan to see me? And more importantly, why do I feel completely incapable of complimenting a guy I’m seeing? Or feel like I can make a plan to hang out with him? Do we really have to play it that cool? Is it advantageous in the slightest to appear to care less than the other person when we are trying so desperately to let them know that we care? (Problem number one: maybe I’m the only one that cares – but that’s a separate issue.) We live in an age where an IG like, a snapchat and a text back are the best inclination that someone is interested in you – and if they happen consistently you should just accept those as the compliments and affirmation that you are looking for.

So we all go on, living our lives, doing our daily activities – afraid to include the person that we like or love beyond a snapchat of our coffee shop camp-out or puppy play time. Because telling someone that we would like to hang out with them, even if it’s just sitting across from them in silence at a coffee shop while you both work is too much. A weekend together is basically a marriage proposal  - “Can I get a diamond with that venti dark roast?” – so don’t even go there.

And I find myself back where I was when I started this blog: Am I settling? Am I perpetuating the problem? Should I stand up for what I believe to be true: If someone wants to be with you, they will make it happen. The right person will feel lucky to have you in their life and make it known that they feel that way. The person you should be with would drive 5 hours to see you for 1.

If those are the traits a boyfriend / lover should have – I think I’m destined to fail. As far as I can tell, those guys don’t exist. They might have once upon a time, but not anymore. Or maybe they just don’t for someone like me – a fiercely independent girl who puts on a strong façade and airs of not giving a shit. Is this my own fault? Probably.

Maybe I should be single if I’m still shown more love from a strange old man at a coffee than someone that I’ve been “dating.” Because let’s be honest, I think that kind old British man would have sat with me and talked about life for hours. He would have listened to me, laughed with me, advised me and supported me. And I’m not saying that my un-boyfriend and other guys I know / have talked to don’t do that – it’s just that, on some level, I feel that they would prefer I didn’t share those things with them. After all, you really think twice before sending a text that’s too long, don’t you?  Or maybe that’s just me.

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Day 24: For Fear of Failing

When all else fails... you fail? How can I not feel like a failure in the midst of all of this? Let me explain:

- My career / job is a mess: as in, I have no idea if I make enough money to actually support myself, to have the lifestyle I want, to be happy. I have no clue if my job is going to be there in a month or six months. I don’t know how to ask for more money, and often I don’t feel that I deserve to. 

- I don’t have a home. I am fortunate enough to have amazing friends and family who offer up their spare beds, pullouts, couches, homes - but it’s not home. It’s not mine. 

- I can’t keep up with the needs of my friends and the quality time that they all deserve. I feel like I’m not the support person that they all need me to be, and for that I feel as though I have let them down.

- My unrelationship with my unboyfriend is marginally more defined than it was a week ago, but it still lives in limbo and leaves me constantly afraid that either I will never be able to tell if we are a good fit because of how little time we spend together, or I will be invested and he won’t ever give a shit about me. 

I’m spinning a series of plates and I can’t keep any balanced. In fact, when I look up I am left to realize that I’m not even spinning the plates anymore - they have all crashed to the ground and littered the floor in shards of white, blue and plaster dust. The facade is in my head and no one else feels the whirling in my mind. I’m left awake wondering what I’m running towards while everyone tells me time and again that they finish line is in the other direction. 

I’m exhausted. 

When all else fails - accept failure and punish yourself.  Starve. Run. Vomit. Cry. Binge. Cut. Cry. Starve. Binge. Run. Walk. Sit. Stare. Blank. 

I have nothing figured out. No apartment, no set career path, no boyfriend, no city, no person, no little kid bed to climb into and pull the covers over my face. Only a sinking feeling. That one where you dream you are lost in the middle of the ocean, treading water and something strong yanks you down. Water in your lungs, nostrils burning, brain blazing white. 

I think a lot about being single in these moments. In fact, I think a lot about not existing in these moments. Wouldn’t it just be easier? I mean, if I’m already bringing everyone else down, why not just make it easier. No. I don’t think I would ever kill myself - I’m not that melodramatic. I definitely think about slipping away though. I toy with the idea of sneaking out the door, packing my bag, tying my running shoes to my feet and throwing my hair in a ponytail. Running due north as the sun sets to my left and the wind hits my cheeks. It would just be easier. Start over. Alone. 

A year of single-ness. No boys. No commitments. Build up yourself and then build out your life. And I couldn’t even do it for 20 days. In fact, I can’t even be single or in a relationship. I still have that little agency in my own life. 

But that’s just Chelsea - give it all up and give in to everyone else. Sway with the current of everyone else’s lives. Caught up, swept away. In the drama and pain of my friends, in the crazy romantic notion that real love exists. 

It doesn’t. I said it. It doesn’t. I’m bitter. I’m angry. I’m done. I’m tired of pretending, of waxing, of dressing, of dating, of lying, of performing. True love is a myth you are sold in fairytales and romcoms in your teens with sneakers stuck to sticky floors and hearts stuck to wide eyed boys on movie screens that are just acting to make more money than you could ever hope to have by the time you retire. It’s your oven on high that keeps you warm at night, the sleeves of your sweatshirt the dry your tears, and your own fingers that push you over the edge night after night. I don’t know if I’ll ever tell another guy that I love him. I don’t know if I ever want to. 

Maybe I’m too hard on myself. Maybe I blame myself for that failure. The one where I decided to love someone that could never responsibly love me back. I don’t trust my own judgement. I don’t trust my own heart. And I certainly don’t trust that I can’t be swayed by the opinions of my friends that believe me to be a million times stronger than I actually am. 

And I sound tough as shit right now. No one is going to fuck with me. No one is getting in. 

Yet here I sit, on the eve of my unboyfriend’s birthday. His gift is somewhere over the southwest I’m sure and I’ll text him something nice, not too sweet, and sassy in the middle of the night or early morning. I’ll see him when he asks and will sleep with him when he tries. 

Is it because I love him? Is it because I hate myself? The truth is, I don’t really know. Maybe I see that this is headed for failure and I like it. Masochism at it’s finest. I will bang my head against this wall until I split my head open and blood stains my hair red. It won’t be until I see the red all over my hands and none on his as he waves goodbye that I realize that it’s time to put myself back together. 

Ugh. How fucking emo of me. This post makes me depressed as fuck. Well, if you can’t tell - life is hard. Love is hard. Not being in love is hard. And I don’t know which hard is harder. So I go back to my question of failure: Am I failure for not being single? Am I failure for liking a guy who can’t figure out if he likes me back? Am I a failure because I want to give up and walk away from a potential relationship? Am I a failure for fighting for a potential relationship. Everyone else that I know has an opinion on these matters except for me. Maybe that’s the failure that hurts the most - the failure of me to give a fuck about my own life and even attempt to care about something for fear of failing. 

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Day 19: Dear Un-Boyfriend

So I know I made a commitment on the 18th to remain single for a year. I told several people I was doing this, and they all told me some version of: yeah, you’re not going to do that.  Maybe they were right.  Maybe this year and this blog is more about focusing on what I want out of life, being honesty with myself, and being truly confident in my single-self, even if that single-self is not exactly single.  

I saw my un-boyfriend last night, who is actually less like an un-boyfriend now than he has been at any point thus far.  No bueno in regards to being single, but maybe more bueno in regards to my heart.  I have a propensity for pushing my own feelings aside and doing what everyone expects, and the un-bf was no exception.  If he’s not going to be serious, neither will I. If he wants to hook up, we’ll hook up. If he doesn’t text me back, I won’t text him back. It was this stupid and juvenile approach that really made no sense.  I decided this week: I’m done. I’m done lying about how I feel, silencing myself, and ignoring my heart and my gut. 

So I made my way up to his place. I let him cook for me. I told him about my life - the trivial stuff, but more or less stuff I don’t share with him. And then it just all sort of happened. I told him about ED, about my friends, about my living situation, my indecision regarding my life.  I reached this so-to-speak breaking point that left me thinking: fuck it, if he doesn’t like you because of this shit you better find out now. And I am not going to lie, I walked in thinking he would walk away. Mic drop. I’m out. I’m gonna try to fuck you one last time, but you’re crazy if you think I want a relationship. 

Shockingly, that’s not what happened. 

I’ve known this guy for 1 year, yet in that year I’ve probably only spent about 2 weeks worth of time with him (in that, we’re going on dates kinda way). So I have to be fair with myself when I attempt to sort out how I feel.  Because, honestly, it’s confusing and complicated as fuck. 

When then tension finally peaked, and I forced the issue, he started by asking me: what do you want? And I was stuck, like walking through a pool of peanut butter.  What do I want? Do I really want this guy to tell me he’s over it and doesn’t want to pursue this? No, I like him, I need to stop lying about that. Do I want him to be my boyfriend? No, I don’t know him enough to responsibly offer up that title to him, nor do I think he would take it. Do I want to take a break and not talk for a while? No, I know that’s going to suck - I know we won’t be able to do it, and that will just turn into us never speaking again.  Do I want to try and make it work? Yeah, I really do - but only if he does as well, and it will really only work if things truly start to change. 

Because my real fear is that maybe this just isn’t meant to be.  Maybe I’ve met this cool guy that I get along well with and really enjoy. But maybe we are just both at such different places in our lives that we don’t sync up perfectly.  It’s in the moments that I think about this, that I get really jealous of the people I know that date friends, co-students, co-workers, friends of friends.  Those couples share an anchor, a common theme, a link that joins them together. But me and my un-bf, we just have how we feel about each other.  Should it work, it speaks well of how we feel about each other, but it also makes the chance of it working so low. 

I guess what I would want him to know, if I could tell him anything, is that I’m scared. And I’m guessing he’s probably just as scared as I am.  I know that we are both people that don’t open up, let others in, show vulnerability. We joke and kid. We are the easy-going, happy, social friend. We don’t come to others with our problems. And that is a risky combo when you mix two individuals like that. When both are afraid to fall, both don’t trust that the other will catch them. I don’t want to open up, let him in, fall for him - only to have him turn around and leave me, move on, decide that I’m not important. I am pretty sure he feels the same on some level - I don’t want to open up to her, let her see all of my dark corners and twisted thoughts. She will surely leave me when she finds out this terrible thing about me, so why even bother. To that, what I want to say is: I can’t promise you that I won’t leave, just like you can’t promise me that you won’t leave. I can tell you that I’m just as scared of opening up my locked closets and letting the dusty skeletons out to dance. I can tell you that I know that the only way to drive out the dark is with light, and you make me feel light. You make me feel uncomplicated and happy. Maybe we’ll fight over hair in the shower drain, or you won’t like the way I wipe my nose upwards when it’s cold outside, or I won’t like the way you open cans of soup or load the dishwasher. That’s a lot of ifs, buts, maybes, I don’t knows.  I think the only thing left, in the face of all of that uncertainty, is to attempt to be certain. To simply try. Because lord knows, even if it doesn’t work out and hurts like hell, it won’t feel nearly as bad as the agonizing ambiguity and mystery over whether it ever would. 

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Day 13: Nobody Puts Baby in a Corner

I spent the morning with my brother. He has a girlfriend. They've been together for a few months, and while they aren't very serious, they spend a considerable amount of time together. He is in seasonal forestry work, and they have already agreed to break up when he leaves in 2 weeks - his decision, not hers. I asked him point blank if he was sad about the break up. He admitted he was, but dove into a pretty logical explanation of why he thought it was for the best. Part of his answer included: she's not the one. Personally, I LOVE his girlfriend. She is classy, funny, smart, beautiful... what the fuck is wrong with my brother?!?! But I get it - she's not my girlfriend she's his. What I gathered from his explanation was this: he wants to be settled and then find a girl. To this point I asked him: do you think like will work out that way? And he, with complete sincerity, told me he did. I get it - people can have all sorts of different view points, opinions, outlooks. There is no one right way to live your life, and no one should tell someone that their outlook is wrong. So, while I don't think my brother's outlook is wrong, it is not an outlook I share. However, I also know that there are MANY guys that share his outlook on love, dating and relationships. These are the: I don't want a girlfriend because I'm still figuring out my life, I don't feel settled enough to decide on that part of my life yet, I want to figure out me first before I factor someone else in. That's all well and good, and many people would ask me: ISN'T THAT EXACTLY WHAT YOU ARE DOING WITH THIS BLOG?!?! But my answer is no, it's not. I have no desire to complete my life and then nearly place a significant other into a perfectly sized hole I have created for him. I just don't think life and love work that way. In fact, I think that people that operate under the notion that you can just fit someone into your life when you are ready, are far more likely to fail at the relationship. That is due to the fact that they will expect that person remain in their allotted space, not shift, move, grow or change. And that's just not human. Relationships are about growing WITH each other. They are about becoming stronger in your struggles as a pair, working in tandem to get through shit and build a life together. So no, I don't want to move into the house you bought last year, cook you dinner, hear about your day at work, and then have your kids and raise them - just because that is the role you decided you "needed" me to play for you. So when I think about how this year is different than that notion of figuring out my life first, here is what I come up with: I'm taking this time to think about the person I want to be with. What is he like? What are his values? What will I not settle for? What do I want to find? How do I want to be treated? This year is NOT about getting my ducks in a row, making my life perfect, and figuring out how I want someone to fit into my life. I can tell you how I want a guy to fit into my life: like that neon green slime on Nickelodeon, I want it all over, messy, in my hair, in my eyes, in my shoes, between my fingers. I refuse to put someone in a corner, in a drawer, on the mantel, in a box. That's just sad. I want to find a best friend, a companion, a confidant, a person that makes me a better me. Not someone that hangs around and watches me be me. I don't know, maybe that doesn't exist for guys. Maybe guys are just looking for a pretty face to cook dinner and suck dick. If that's the case, I think this singleness might last a whole lot longer than a year. Because that's one job I am not signing up for.

[singleinthebae-blog]

Day 12: I Thought it was Love I Wanted

While at my sister’s apartment this past weekend, I noticed several poems taped neatly to her wall. I almost missed them, white paper against white wall, but once I saw them I couldn’t stop seeing them. Eventually my curiosity got the best of me, and I took pause to read them. One poem in particular stuck out to me.

I have always loved Langston Hughes and was surprised that I had not previously come across this poem.  I Thought it was Tangiers I Wanted reads:

I know now That Notre Dame is in Paris. And the Seine is more to me now Than a wriggling line on a map Or a name in travel stories.

I know now There is a Crystal Palace in Antwerp Where a hundred women sell their naked bodies, And the night-lovers of sailors Wait for men on docks in Genoa.

I know now That a great golden moon Like a picture-book moon Really rises behind palm groves In Africa, And tom-toms do beat In village squares under the mango trees.

I know now That Venice is a church dome And a net-work of canals, Tangiers a whiteness under sun.

I thought It was Tangiers I wanted, Or the gargoyles of Notre Dame, Or the Crystal Palace in Antwerp, Or the golden palm-grove moon in Africa, Or a church dome and a net-work of canals.

Happiness lies nowhere, Some old fool said, If not within oneself.

It’s a sure thing Notre Dame is in Paris,– But I thought it was Tangiers I wanted.

Happiness lies nowhere… if not within oneself – that line has not stopped haunting me.  It’s so simple yet so poignantly true.  I may not have been to Antwerp or Notre Dame, but I too have found myself running toward something I believed would grant me happiness only to find, once I had it, it wasn’t what I wanted.  I have spent my whole life trying to find “another” – to find my red-string soul mate, my fated other half built perfectly for me.  But is what I’m looking for what I want? Does it even exist?

You will not find happiness in another. You will only find disappointment and a reflection of your own insecurities.  Like a blanket, another can warm you for awhile, but inevitably the summer rolls in and the temperature spike prompts you to kick off the covers and crave running in the wind to cool your bones.  The suffocation of another – it can seem appealing when you have lost the will to breathe, but that oppressive nature has you gasping for air the second your lungs kick back in and crave to be filled with the sweet winter air speckled with snowflakes.  

You see, you have to be your own blanket, keep it rolled tightly and packed on your back.  You have to fill your own lungs and embrace the burning feeling that comes with each deep inhale. You will never find happiness in another. You will find happy moments, feelings of joy and calm.  But when the night falls and the stars dance in the sky, your lover will sleep while you stare at the stars through tear filled eyes wishing you could dance and sway among them.  You will want to kiss the moon so deeply your soul sings but consideration for another keeps you silent in the dark.  

I, for so long, have thought love was what I wanted.  A shackled partner grounding me. Now I know, my heart yearns to float aimlessly in the sea, making homes in caves along distant coasts. My legs itch to run in wild fields of wheat searching for foxes to befriend.  My hair tangles itself in the wind, clinging to the freedom, not wanting me to pull it back.  My eyes wander – from tiny city dot to tiny city dot on the map of my office wall – and my heart whispers: pick that one, it’s near the sea.

I thought it was love I wanted.

[singleinthebae-blog]

Day 11: Me First! 🙋

Remember when you were in 2nd grade and you would serious kill to be the line leader? Oh... That's just me? Okay... Awkward. LOL. I know you know what I'm talking about: those long lost days of going "this is exactly what I want and I'm gonna do whatever the fuck it takes to make it happen!" I miss those days. Somewhere over the past 20 years I lost my desire to be the line leader. I became the girl who would sit at her desk until the classroom cleared or the one in the front spot who gives it up to the first person who asks. I kinda became a doormat. A doormat to family, friends and especially guys. Oh, this guy likes me, I guess I have to go out with him. Fuck, he bought me dinner and 3 drinks, now I definitely have to make out with him. Why couldn't I be the line leader in those moments: oh, no, I don't want to kiss you, so I'm not going to. Hmmmm, you were decent but I don't want to see you again. Spineless is what I am. So today I thought a lot about changing this quality in myself. I contemplated what it truly means to put me first and how I can allow myself to do so without feeling like a selfish, prissy biotch. Because putting yourself first does NOT make you a bad person. In fact, it makes you wise. You are unable to take care of others if you can't take care of yourself. And you certainly won't be able to love others if you don't love yourself first. So the mission at the moment is to love me. To put me first and think about all of the things that I want and need to be happy, and then to chase after them. But first, I have to dream up what I want. Sweet dreams guys and gals.

[singleinthebae-blog]

Day 10: Indecision

Today has got me thinking: Am I capable of making a decision? 

I feel like there is a part of me that was born to run - to run from things, towad things, away from everything...  I live with a constant internal pull between wanting to grow roots, drop an anchor and collect barnacles and wanting to sail as far as possible from everything and anyone I’ve ever known.  The same rings true for all aspects of my life: places, people, jobs, hobbies, homes... I can’t seem to settle, yet all I yearn for is a place to call my own.  

Yesterday at Stagecoach, Caroline and I were totally feeling our look, so we took upwards of about 30 selfies. 

AND OF COURSE I CAN’T EVEN PICK WHICH FUCKING SELFIE TO POST WITHOUT GETTING HER OPINION!!!!!!!!!!

Ughhhhh, I don’t know what it is about me.  Maybe I’m so afraid I’m going to make the wrong decision, do something that will let others down, that I am incapable of doing what I want without gaining the approval of others first.  I look at my relationships, my living situation, my career, my fucking IG posts... they all rely heavily on what everyone tells me I should do, what everyone else thinks will be smart, cute, fun, stable, ideal... whatever adjective they want to assign to whichever dumb question of the day I’m asking. 

What surprises me most, however, is the fact that I’m actually really good at giving impartial, reflective, self actualizing advice to others.  I don’t push or convince.  Dear Chelsea, get it to-fucking-gether and take some of your own advice! 

So in regards to this “year of singleness”: Do I even want this? Do I really like my unboyfriend? Am I a bad person if I decide to date him? Why am I writing this blog? Am I doing this for me or for everyone else? 

In this moment, as in right this very second, I feel very much so like this is not what I want. I can’t wait until I get 2 months in and I’ve made out with someone and the first person I tell goes: *gasp* but I thought you were going to be single for a year?!?!?! 

Yeah bitch, I thought that too, but I decided it was more important to follow what I wanted in the moment as opposed to living up to some standard that you set for me in your head. Ok, breathe... drink some more coffee... breathe... repeat this to yourself Chelsea: 

Work on your own salvation.  Your own. Not others. Not depending on others. I am falsely independent, a skilled actress that has fooled all of my closest friends and family into thinking I am strong willed and fiercely independent.  *laughing* I really am not.  From something as silly as what to order for breakfast to what clothing I want to wear for the day I look to others for guidance.  And yes, guidance can be an amazing asset.  However, when used as a crutch, the means by which I navigate my path - you knowing using it to put my life on auto-pilot - it becomes damaging.  I need to remember that I am capable of doing anything and everything that I want, that I am strong enough to make decisions for myself, and that in order to find my own salvation of self love and happiness I need to look within myself and not to others. 

I’m not going to find happiness in a friendship, a new home, a boyfriend, a fancy career.  It to come from within me. I need to create love, light and positivity everyday.  I cannot rely on others to do it for me.  I think the first step is going to be doing some deep, deep, deep soul searching to find out what I truly need to make me happy. 

[singleinthebae-blog]

Day 9: Dependent and Depressed

I am currently 28 minutes into day 9, and I've yet again texted the unbf. Maybe I will never learn. Today I thought a lot about what I want for my life. I was only able to settle on one definitive thing: independence. As I've gotten older I've realized that I am basically completely dependent on others. Most of my friends will laugh at the statement. They will see me as someone strong willed, confident, completely independent, never phased by the opinions of others. Now I'm laughing. I have never lived alone. I don't do things on my own, especially not if I don't have to. I adopt the habits (eating, drinking, spending money etc.) of those that I'm around. I don't know when the last time I really did something that I wanted to do without thinking about another persons stake in the decision was. In fact, I think the only regard in which I fiercely independent is in not wanting to go to the ladies room with other girls. With these thoughts swimming through my mind, I am considering stopping this blog. I don't know if I'm doing this for me, or for others. At this point I'm not sure.

[singleinthebae-blog]

Day 8: The Struggle

Currently, it feels like everything is the struggle.  I need to eat, but I can’t figure out what to eat. I need to shower, but can’t get off the couch. I will be going to Stagecoach in 2 hours, but that sounds really hard and crowded. I need to figure out my life, and that sounds overwhelming. I need to stick with the program and stop giving my attention to guys, but yeah... I’m just not doing it. 

Why is it so hard to figure out what to do with my unboyfriend? I’m sitting here on the couch with my sister, she just read post #2 about unboyfriend/unfriend, and she seems to think we shouldn’t be friends.  I have to say, I agree with her.  She made a really good point when she said: “How would you feel if you were in a relationship and that person was still friends with someone that they had feelings for? Someone that they still talked to in a flirtatious way?” I realized that I would have a huge problem with that. I also realized that I’m just simply not being honest about how I feel. 

Maybe I should have been more forward when I had my “I can’t do this” conversation

But I’m not really that person. I’m nice; I don’t want to offend people.  Or maybe it’s bigger than that, and I have real feelings for my unboyfriend that I haven’t been able to let go of.  He was my unboyfriend for a reason; I have kept him in my life for this long for a reason. And while I recognize that there are many reasons that we should not be together, it is still SO FUCKING HARD to walk away. I worry that I’m passing up something great. I think: well, if I only tried a little harder or waited a little longer. I think about how much fun I have when I’m with him. 

Yes, there are so many moments where I think about all of the reasons it doesn’t work, namely that I really hold back a huge part of myself.  However, none of that changes the fact that I still REALLY enjoy him as a person - and duh, I’m attracted to him. I don’t know...

TBH the hardest part for me is the lack of closure. Nothing feels final. It’s more of an, “eh... he may never text me again” or “well it’s not like we were ever really together to being with” so I’m left with this strange feeling of limbo. I hate limbo. I operate in a very black and white world and grey area scares the shit out of me. I have a feeling that it’s going to remain a problem for awhile, at least until I can figure out how to finalize it all. So I guess step one of this journey really is BECOME SINGLE. 

Ugh, I’m off to go try harder to make that happen. 

[singleinthebae-blog]

Day 7: To Text or Not to Text...

Am I my own worst enemy? 

In this journey, so far, maybe... 

I am a perfectionist, plain and simple; there is no way around it. From projects to blog posts and eating clean to dating, if I can’t do it perfectly I don’t want to do it all (and often don’t). At times I love this quality. It has the potential to yield incredible results. But often enough, I hate it because it proves only to end in a feeling of crippling defeat.  You know, that “wash my hands of it, throw in the towel, walk away” moment? I have that all the time.  

Perfectionism is what let me to develop an eating disorder. It has led me to over identify with the identity of “good friend” who never puts herself first. It has led to personal body shaming and bashing. It has led to breakups and non-returned phone calls, and invitations for 2nd, 3rd or 4th dates. It has led to extreme procrastination in my work life, and anxiety when a project must be completed but can’t be perfect. Basically, it fucks me up on a regular basis.

A major component to this journey is working on creating a me that is less consumed with being perfect and more concerned with making the wise decision.

Origin Story Part 1: 

There was not one catalyst to this journey. It was a series of events and realizations - an aligning of the stars if you will. One of the most instrumental however, was listening to several of Andy Stanley’s (he’s a Christian minister - I believe - and he has these awesome video-casts that give insight into positive, healthy and successful relationships) Your Move sermon/pod casts. My co-worker Patty introduced me to them, and after listening to the first one I felt inspired. Over the next few months I’ll dive into several of them a little deeper, and you will notice that a few of his messages really struck me.  One in particular was when the question: Am I making the wise decision? 

More often than not, I end up making the “decision that is best for everyone else and usually pretty good for me,” “the decision that is expected,” or “the decision that sounds the most emotionally / sexually / physically etc. fulfilling in the moment.” Most of the time, those are NOT the wise decision.  I bring this up now because it’s basically the perfect storm.  Take a girl who is so consumed with being perfect that when she realizes she can’t be she self-sabatoges and gives up.  Now add in the fact that she over-identifies with being a perfect friend, runner, dieter etc. (at this point you have a yo-yo effect) There is a constant struggle between wanting to do things that live up to those ideals and identity competing with a constant feeling of not being good enough - being a failure.  Now whisk it around real good.  Yeah, that whisking, dizzy, spinning sick feeling - that’s how I feel constantly.  

You see, in my life, the way I have been living it, there is no room to make the wise choice.  Because in my mind, wise for me = selfish = bad = against good friend identity = failure, and when you cut the crap in the middle you realize I have basically written an illogical math equation that states: wise decision for me = failure.  Yeah, clearly that is not right, the issue lies in the middle somewhere. The problem? I want to make the “wise for me” or “failure” part change; I don’t want to change what’s in the middle. But here I am, laughing at my own stupidity because what needs to change is everything in between.  

To Text or Not to Text...

When I think about wise decisions and relationships, I realize I’ve been making all of the unwise ones. I don’t think I need to make a list, but to highlight a few: keeping people around I see no future with, Tinder, allowing people to treat me poorly, keeping people on the hook, Tinder, keeping myself on the hook, using guys for validation, looking for guys in the wrong places (cough Tinder cough), compromising my beliefs - especially around sex and intimacy, did I mention Tinder... 

This was particularly apparent last night.  Pre 4/18/2015 I made a point to dismantle my carousel. Well... I tried to, but I don’t think I was really successful and I’m pretty sure that all of the guys on it still think I would suck their dicks next weekend if they bought be enough drinks.  Woops, my bad.  So yesterday, when my unboyfriend sent me a snapchat, I made the poor (aka not wise) decision to engage with him.  WHY?!?!?!?! Habit? Boredom? Loneliness? Probably all three. I get a lot of questions from people about this blog and the rules I have set for myself.  They usually range from: “So, how is this going to work?” to  “What happens if you meet someone?” The short answer, I don’t know.  (Most people don’t like that answer - sorry guys, my blog / life, not yours.) The honest answer: it’s a learning process; and despite my best efforts to be perfect, I am not. I realize that I still want attention, I want to feel wanted, it’s comforting to have someone around. And then I ask myself:

Is it wise to keep someone around that you know doesn’t treat you the way you want to be treated, someone who can’t give you want you want, and ultimately just takes from you and never gives? 

Well duh, the answer is clearly no. It’s the cutting them off that feels fucked up. I don’t when or how it happened, but I guess at some point in my life I decided that a good person is friends with everyone (look at me setting myself up for failure). Therefore, you can’t just stop talking to a guy you are kinda in an unrelationship with because you’ve been talking for almost a year and that’s just hella bitchy. You can’t not respond to someone’s text, even though he only texts you when he’s out drinking and the last time you saw each other it was a total booty call that only included you servicing him, because that’s not what a nice person would do.  

Did I tell you I’m actually really smart? Because when I read that last paragraph I realize how fucking stupid I am.  I fucked up twice yesterday. Once when I texted booty call guy back - I fondly refer to him as 2 Chains.  It was a simple text: “Come have a drink!” but instead of not responding or simply saying “not interested” I felt the need to give an explanation for my no making it sound like I wanted more invites that may work in the future. Ugh. No more. The second one was a little worse in my mind.  My unboyfriend was snapchatting me, and we kinda casually chatted a bit via snapchat. Then he told me how he had a bad day, and I sent him a sloth picture and said I hoped it was better. I’m not explaining it well, but the important thing here is that I was emotionally there for him (which I used to be much more so) but he is NEVER emotionally there for me.  I know he is not the one. I know he is not someone I should be in a relationship with. And even though I gave him the (just friends) speech on like April 16th, the conversation still turned flirty and ended with him sending me a good night kissy heart face emoji.  GOOD JOB CHELSEA. Why to keep him on the hook, and keep yourself on his for that matter. 

So, to text or not to text... it’s just not that simple.

I guess what it comes down to is this: it’s fucking scary to be alone, to say: I am not going to rely on the emotional / sexual validation from anyone; I’m going to do it for myself.  I have to acknowledge that I will mess up. Hell, I could end up with a boyfriend in 3 moths. So for everyone that’s wondering - what are you really trying to get out of this? The main thing is the ability to consistently make the wise decision for myself.  That one thing encompasses everything else: am I being true to me? am I sticking to my beliefs, do I like the person that I am, am I kind, am I whole, am I healthy, am I imperfect but accepting of my flaws... You see, what other people don’t get, and can’t seem to wrap their head around when I explain this, is that this isn’t just about not having a guy around for 365 days.  It’s a set amount of time for me to get over being perfect, to become the best me I can be, and to spend a year creating the me that I truly want to be for the rest of my life.  It just so happened that relationships and guys are the escape I use to hide from my own problems.  

But more on that later. Ciao 

[singleinthebae-blog]

Day 6: Obligations and Options

On 4/20/15 I began a really important new (step, chapter, phase... I’m not sure what to call it) of my life and this journey.  I joined the Fit Girl community online and have made a commitment to myself to put myself, my health, and my fitness first.  So, for the first time in a really long time, I’m taking a step back from everyone - not just guys - and focusing on me.  

I have spent almost my entire life living up to standards.  From educational benchmarks in kindergarten to chasing goals my parents created for me, I have constantly worked to live up to something. What that something is, is irrelevant. What matters far more is that many of these are self imposed, unrealistic, unattainable and are set up to make me fail. I realize this about myself. I have experienced the disappointment, frustration and pain time and again from not living up these unrealistic standards. Further, a vast majority of them are entirely self imposed. My parents don’t care what my job is; they just want me to be happy, yet I still worry that my dad is disappointed that I never went to law school.  My friends won’t hate me if I can’t go get pizza and beers with them, but I always feel guilty in that: “I’m really letting them down” way when I don’t go. I guess what I’m trying to say is that I have all sorts of obligations in my life that are actually options.  

Let me say that again: I have all sorts of obligations in my life that are actually options.  

I have my best friend V to thank for that pearl of wisdom.  It’s so fucking true it isn’t even funny. Like how could I not have realized this for so long!?!?! Let me explain - I’ll tell V about my life and explain why I can’t do the things I want like hang out with certain people, not hang out with anyone, read, run, move, eat, not eat, sleep etc., and it’s not because I’m physically incapable; it’s because I seem to have these other “obligations” that get in the way.  “I already promised to hang out with so-and-so,” “but they really need me,” “they are counting on me,” “I’m rude if I cancel,” “this is really important to so-and-so.” And even writing that out, I’m exhausted - and I haven’t even scratched the surface.  I don’t want to sound like: “pity me, I’m so popular!” or “look at how selfless and caring I am.” It’s just the way I’ve conditioned myself to be.  I am so busy advocating and supporting others, that I don’t have time, space or energy to advocate for myself.  

And it sucks - because I love who I am, and I love who my friends are. Many of them are probably reading this; and if you are, I don’t want you to change!!! I love you.  I just very rarely take a step back and acknowledge how exhausted I am from dealing with everything.  Because it’s not just one friend or one problem for me.  It’s a revolving door of friends, problems, and things that seem to come up. It’s a schedule that is booked out a week in advance - and you better believe weekends are booked out a month in advance. It’s money I throw down for meals, trips, gifts, coffee... so many things.

I have no one to blame but myself for this.  I have created these obligations and trained my friends to see them as such.  It’s why my friends react strangely when I tell them I want to do something different, can’t stay long, or don’t have time.  I have this learned behavior, not only for myself, but that I have trained my friends and suitors to have with me as well. I always respond to texts; I’m always available when someone needs me. With a lifestyle like that I have encountered 2 things: 1. I can handle it for only so long, and then I completely want to pull away, and 2. I have no room for what I want to do. 

So to combat this, I have decided that it is ok to run.  I give myself full and complete freedom to look at EVERYTHING as an option and not an obligation. I have goals, challenges, and milestones set for myself - some I am still working on creating.  

So my first step in creating my new, free self was joining one of my best friends Rey Rey in a Fit Girl challenge. I left my old IG (@kremlingremlin if you want to know). I created a new one and joined a new community of amazing, positive, strong, loving individuals (mostly girls).  I don’t share this IG with most of the people I know.  If they want to find me they can, but this IG is for me. It’s not about the notoriety. I am doing this for me.  I don’t want to be asked: Can I follow you? It’s public, and I’m putting the real me out there for the world to see, so look if you want to - that’s your choice, mine is to post and do me. Fitness is always something I have loved. It’s something my eating disorder has kept me from being able to take on full force. Now add to that the fact that I constantly feel a self imposed pressure to be their for everyone else before I do anything for myself and you can see why I approach it this way.  

And I know you’re probably thinking: Chelsea, I thought this blog was about being single - as in relationship single - not isolated completely!?! Yeah, but to that I want to say 2 things:

1. Everything I just explained about frienships / obligations / stress / pressure and not taking care of myself is even more intense when I have a boyfriend. 

and

2. The whole point of being single is knowing that I can stand on my own completely and live comfortably in my own skin.  This year is about taking back the power and doing things for me, so that I can be the best partner for my future whatever it is I choose. 

Cheers to a self - improving day! 

[singleinthebae-blog]

Day 5: Jaded AF

Whelp, there has never been a better time to be single.  I’m pretty sure I’m getting my first cold sore ever... can’t wait to be inducted into the “lordy you have the herp” club.  Really, I’m kinda freaked out about it, and for the worst reason: am I branded as viral / ill / gross? When do I disclose this to a potential mate? Fuck, what if I have a date and one pops up?

So I caught myself spiraling, and then, in a very decisive way I firmly told myself: SHUT THE FUCK UP! Honestly, if someone doesn’t like me or thinks I’m gross because I have one tiny imperfection, then he can GTFO because I have no interest in knowing him.  Yet, even though I’ve said it, I’m still feeling really weird about it.  

I think often as a woman there is an overwhelming pressure to be perfect in order to catch and keep a guy.  You fart in your sleep? You better invest in a twin bed now. You don’t shave your bush? You won’t be hiding anything male in it anytime soon. Your body is not bikini ready? No guy at the pool is tossing his beach ball your way.  The saddest part is that I’m not joking. I was recently on a date with a guy and he wanted to hook up. I resisted because I hadn’t shaved down there, and oh lord there was no way in hell I was letting his first view of the buffet be anything less than pristine condition.  There are probably some of you out there thinking that it’s all in my head - guys aren’t really like that. To you, I say: does it prove my point if I tell you that I then proceeded to agree to the hook up and after that night only talked to him a few times and never saw him again? Coincidence? Maybe...

Maybe I’m being overly dramatic.  Maybe guys aren’t that picky, and they fall in love with us in spite of our flaws.  And yes, I do think some do. I just think that there is a difference between guys and girls.  From my experience, guys look at girls like they are a dime a dozen - well maybe a dollar a dozen.  Yet girls will look at a guy she is dating as the potential (the use of potential is important) one.  Now don’t get me wrong, I think both sides are equally out of touch with reality, and with that perception I can understand why each are fearful of the other.  But I’m sick of the excuses.  I’m sick of wondering if each guy I meet only wants one thing: a cute girl to hang out with, a cute girl to have sex with, or some form of female entertainment.  Did you notice how I neglected to list that I wonder if a guy wants a girl he genuinely loves as a human? Yeah, that’s because I’ve been trained to believe that doesn’t exist. In my world, there is NO WAY a guy could actually give a shit about me as a human - he has one agenda, and I’m fucked if I get invested. 

Do I sound jaded yet? Good, because I am. It’s hard, after 5 years of dating, to believe that these seemingly nice, funny, upstanding, normal guys I’m meeting aren’t going to be exactly like the other seemingly nice, funny, upstanding, normal guys I have been spending time with. Because the ones I’ve been spending time with, they are the ones that have been treating me as an object, as something replaceable, as a convenience 

Thus, the realization that something needs to change.  Welcome to a year of singleness.  So now you have another piece of the puzzle: this girl feels like guys don’t actually value her.  But the problem with looking at the issue that way: I’m not going to be able to change the guys - and I also know not all guys are like, AND can I just say, no one should need to be changed! So instead, I’m focusing on what I can change: myself. It’s going to be a long year with lots of self reflection, tough conversations, come to Jesus moments, and an ultimate decision of who I am, what I want, and what I will not settle for.

Let the growing begin. Peace out loves <3

[singleinthebae-blog]

Day 4: TGOT

To answer your question, TGOT stands for: that guy over there (or for some: that girl over there). TGOT can be the cute guy in line at Starbucks, the one doing dead lifts at the gym, the new guy your girlfriend’s boyfriend is hanging with, or the ever present random bar hottie.  They all have the same things in common, and it’s quite simple: they are a guy/girl, over there, and they have caught your attention. 

Let’s face it, it’s natural human instinct to check each other out.  You see a beautiful girl walking around in Trader Joe’s and whether you like her hair, butt or shoes, you check her out.  Or you’re out for your run, but let’s be honest it’s more of a walk run, and you see a guy running on the path ahead; you don’t know if he’s hot because the sun is at a weird angle, but sure enough you give him a good once over as he runs past.  I get this.  It makes sense.  It’s normal and there is no escaping it.  What I don’t get is what I like to refer to as the TGOT phenomenon.

I want to start by saying I am so totally guilty of this.  I have done it time and again, and even on day 4 of this journey I still catch myself doing it.  What is it? Let me break it down: A guy or a girl walks into a bar / crowded room / coffee shop / skate night - basically anywhere with lots of people.  He or she immediately scans the room for TGOT.  So, let’s say it’s me.  I walk into a bar and before I’ve even ordered a drink or chosen a seat, I’ve scanned the venue to TGOT, the one that is going to prompt me to turn to my entourage and say, “hey, did you see that guy over there?” Now it’s key to understand that I’ve looked for TGOT before I’ve done anything because if I notice him right away it may change where I sit, what I’m drinking, how I’m behaving, etc.  My mind immediately goes to: OMG do I look good... he’s really cute, does he see me? ... does he think I look cute? ... ok, sit in this spot and make sure that you are speaking animatedly and laughing a lot... and dear God don’t let him catch you looking at him, I mean unless it seems like it might make him come over and talk to you...  

Worse is the absence of TGOT, especially when you were really hoping for one.  I’ve experienced this many times and have watched my friends go through it too - whether they knew I was picking up on it or not.  You may have experienced those nights where you go out hoping there will be some beautiful stranger at the bar that catches your eye, casually chats you up, maybe gives you their number and ultimately made you feel validated because they paid attention to you. You find yourself looking around the bar all night, hoping each new person that walks in the door will be TGOT you’ve been waiting for.  But 4 couples, a crazy group of drunk men playing pool, and a few townies later you realize tonight is just not your night. So you bid your friends farewell and walk home telling yourself that you knew you shouldn’t have gone out in the first place. Yeah, due to a mix of intense feelings of disappointment and failure, I would have to say the “absence of TGOT” nights really suck.  

Ok, let’s stop.  Do you see the problem here? The whole night has suddenly become about TGOT who 99% of the time is going to be some stranger you will never talk to or see again in your life. When I write it all out, or even when I think about it logically in my head, I realize how dumb it all is, how ridiculous I sound. I think back on so many nights that I wasted with friends because I was too preoccupied with finding my TGOT or lamenting the fact that he wasn’t there.  I think of all of the conversations that I half heatedly participated in and all of the extra drinks I ordered with no intention of drinking because surely 20 more minutes would produce a worthy prospect. 

What. A. Waste.

When I really stop to think about it, it makes me feel really depressed and kinda nauseous.  Who am I?  Is it really that important that everywhere I go some guy needs to look at me or talk to me for me to feel validated and happy? Can the success of an evening out with the girls seriously hinge upon the fact that I’m the one a guy gives his number to or buys a drink for?  Is it only a good night if I meet someone? Am I not enough? (And no, not in that: am I not enough so no guy will like me way; it’s the am I not enough for me way.)

The sad truth: I’m someone who has been socialized and self trained to watch for TGOTs like a hawk.  I can spot them when I’m running, when I’m grocery shopping, when I’m sourcing on Linkedin, even when I’m driving - because, you know, I’m sooooooo likely to talk to the guy two cars up that I’ve passed 3 times on the freeway, but OMG what if he’s the one!?!? Ugh, even thinking through all of this and writing it here makes me embarrassed and disappointed in myself.  

So I guess the question that follows is: What do I do now? 

Answer: I work to be constantly aware of the TGOT phenomenon.  When I see myself looking at the cute guy that works in my building I tell myself it doesn’t matter if he ever talks to me because why would he walk up and start talking to a random stranger?!?!  When I get dressed in the morning I ask myself: is this what you want to wear - is it for you? When I’m at a bar with my friends and I see a cute guy (because I’m not going to stop seeing them) I try my best to ignore his presence and focus on what is happening right in front of me. For me, at this point it’s all about being cognoscente and self-aware.  It’s about taking back the power and channeling it inward - validating myself as opposed to relying on someone I outwardly deem worthy to do it for me.

I have done so much damage to my heart and my head by living in this “what if” world with so many TGOTs. The conversations, dates, relationships, dear God sometimes weddings I sometimes create with these people do nothing but leave me feeling let down when nothing ever happens.  But why am I doing this? I am in a place now where I don’t want to hunt, put on a show, lure in, and attack a TGOT.  I want to simply be.  I want to dress, behave, plan and live my life without thinking about trying to win over the affections of another  a stranger.  

Maybe what I’m really trying to do now is win over my own affection and impress myself.  

And with that, it’s bed time. 

night night <3

[singleinthebae-blog]

Day 3: Sleep Over Blogging

Today was good and this post will be short. Tomorrow I'll write about: TGOT and learning to say no. Tonight I'm saying no to the blog and yes to sleep.