Aaand, I’m never telling another guy I date that I have a blog and I use it to talk shit on men. Good plan.

Sooo…. There’s starting to be a troubling trend in my life.

I realize that you didn’t ask what this revelation was, and I bet you don’t really care, because I wouldn’t care since this is a very blatantly selfish post.  But- I’m going to tell you anyway becuase I want to hash this out with myself and see where my mind takes me.  I will also probably delete this post in 3 days becuase I promised all 4 of my readers (hi mom!) that I would stop being melodramatic and introspective because self-searching isn’t funny.  It’s sad. 

Hi Dr. Drew. You're hot... Can I facebook stalk you?

Anyway.  I haven’t been emotionally interested in anyone new for a year.  I understand this sounds like absolutely nothing and you’re probably sitting there like, “ummmm, you’re a douchebag.  Stop thinking so much, you’re obviously not good at it.”  But let me explain before you get all judgey and mean.

I dated muscles for a while, then Mr. Pretty, then the Libra.  They overlapped one another and came back around and did start-stop things, all since 2009.  Nobody new.  I’m scared of new people.  No, I’m terrified of new people.

And it’s unfortunate because I don’t really want to be single.  I’ve lived that phase out and I’ve had fun and gone crazy and been selfish without thinking about how other people felt.  I’ve used that phrase, “I’m only going to be  young once.”  I’m still young, but that phrase makes a lot less sense tonight than it did when I threw it around as an excuse.

Mr. Pretty and I were volatile (I know, I know… stop talking about it right?), but I thought it was just going to be a really good story one day.  Ironically enough, it’s a shitty story and it makes me sound like a moron.  Or Taylor Swift minus the fame.  Same thing I suppose.  And I was so wounded by it that I only dated people I was positive were safe.  Muscles loved me, and still does.  When the Libra and I dated the first time around, he was smitten and I was too busy feeling bad about myself to realize that it had potential.

So when I finally got over Mr. Pretty and finally saw that relationship for all of its awfulness, I didn’t think much about the fact that I kind of pranced around with Muscles again.  When Muscles annoyed me to the point of outbursts, I didn’t think much about the fact that I went bee-lining for the Libra.  What I didn’t think about was that, hey! maybe the the Libra isn’t smitten with me anymore.  What a thought, right?

Well the Libra is not smitten.  He’s actually on the rebound.  And he’s actually still recovering from that.  And for those reasons and some others I won’t bother to write about here, we parted ways.  He and I doing so isn’t the point of this though… it’s just… WHAT THE FUCK WAS I DOING? 

My relationships all have a similar trajectory, which is alarming.  Want to know what it is?  Of course you don’t!  That’s why I’m going to tell you anyway.

We meet.  He’s all about it and I’m sort of “eehhhh” about it. Then we stop talking because I behave like a 16 year old then I’m all, “wait! I’m totally sprung on you.  We’d have hot babies.  Wanna get married?”  And then he goes, “Not really...” and I respond with “Seriously, I’m totally the right girl for you… WHY CAN’T YOU JUST GROW UP AND SEE HOW AWESOME I AM?!” and then, after staring at my cell phone for 76 hours straight begging for the LED light to blink or debating whether or not my phone is even working, I give an ultimatum because I’m delerious from no sleep and he’s like, “I’d really rather not.”  And then I say, “Okay.”  The end.

People always say that admitting you have a problem is the first step.  So world, please consider this my first step.  I don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t like me.  Honestly, I’d prefer someone who thought I was nice.  Or funny.  Or both, whatever.  I’m just worried that I kind of forgot how.  My need to be in control of people superceded my ability to recognize when people weren’t right for me.  Can I unlearn that?  Is that like teaching a child how to un-walk?  Or is it like actually breaking an addiction?

This sucks.  I couldn’t get a cool addiction that would land me on A&E.  I’m stuck with this bullshit cliche tendency that makes me more Dear Abby and less reality television. 

*Also, I am concerned that the Libra is reading this (in which case Heyyyyy… this is awkward…)  Because if I were him and I told someone that I just “couldn’t” God knows I would totally hit up their blog and be like this bitch is totally talking shit.  But I’m not.  Because I’m a grown up.*

How To Be Important:

Start your own blog!

Sike. (I’m bringing back the word “sike.”  Certain parts of the nineties, like this word and the cabbage patch dance move did not, in my very humble opinion get enough credit).

In all seriousness, I’m noticing  a troubling trend among women, and if you are reading this (thank you!) I know you’re guilty of the self-berating, awful treatment of yourself that I definitely practice from time to time. And if you aren’t, please vacate my blog- you are much too mentally stable for my yammerings.  This is a place for fellow “what the fuck did I just do?” people.  But anyway, I’m here to explain what I’ve learned in the past year and half or so of behaving like I flat out didn’t count.  And it’s not true, so maybe I can help you if you’ve kind of fallen into that rut too.

First– believe that you are.  Sincerely, honestly, know that you matter.  Because you do, even if it’s just some random chick with a laptop and a free evening telling you that.  Your opinions, your blabberings, your crying at stupid commercials or during that argument are valid, and important.  But if you don’t buy into any of your beliefs/theories/platforms, nobody else will.  Nor should they. 

If you, like I did, don’t believe yet that you are important a pretty good activity for you then is to fake it til you make it.  Tell yourself you are…  Not in a creepy-homeless-person-who-talks-to-themselves-way, but in a silent, inside your own head way.  If passers-by overhear you in the mall saying “I’m important!” not only will they not believe you, but they will alert authorities.  And generally people in padded cells can agree on their delusions of importance… So avoid that, please.  Anyway!  When you catch yourself discounting your thoughts “Oh, that was stupid of me,” stop!  Silently remind yourself that you are important.  You are NOT stupid. (Unless you genuinely are, in which case I can’t help you).

Second– Place blame when need be.  I’m not saying keep your index finger pointed in a permanent position facing outward at people near you… that’s creepy… but know when you are or not to blame.  Women are quick to fall into the “totally my fault.  I sooo apologize.  Please forgive me” thing… Even if it’s NOT.  If he cheats- you aren’t to blame.  If your boss is a crackpot who yells at you all the time, chances are you didn’t fuck everything up.  If you don’t deserve to take the fall for something, don’t.  It doesn’t mean you have to fight tooth and nail to convince everyone of your innocence or superiority, but it does mean that you need to stick to your own truth.  Sometimes other people just suck.  Sometimes we are not so fabulous, and that’s perfectly okay.  Humans are awesome like that.

Third– and this sort of goes with “second,” but have some standards.  Yeesh.  I am so guilty of going out with someone (last night?), and having a sort of okay time, but still staring menacingly at my phone wondering why the guy who was mehhh isn’t calling me incessantly declaring his love and reciting poetry (today?).  Don’t settle for less-than, or you will become less-than.  And who wants to be less-than?!  It kind of sounds like someone who would be missing an arm or something… I like my limbs.  Not that anyone thought I didn’t.

Fourth– People generally referred to as “important” are impressive.  And maybe right now you have a not very impressive job.  Doesn’t mean anything.  Maybe you have some habits (cough, cocaine, cough) that are kind of scary… But there’s always time to find a direction that IS impressive.  And more importantly, “impressive” is a relative term.  I don’t find blue-grass singers to be impressive, but D does.  D doesn’t find political figures impressive, and I swoon over them.  (Fact: I almost cried when my favorite Congressman remembered my name).  So just because everyone else doesn’t go “Ohmigod you’re so cool!” over attribute X about you, don’t worry about it.  It is so good for you mentally and emotionally though, to believe in yourself enough to set a goal that you think is impressive.  First, be proud of yourself for attempting said goal, and then, be proud of yourself for achieving it.  It’s a fun game.

Fifth–  If my extensive yoga experience has taught me anything (sike! I don’t do yoga, who are we kidding?), it’s that getting to know yourself is a good idea.  Fuck that.  It’s a brilliant idea.  Spend some one on one time with yourself and just do what you have always wanted to do- even if it’s napping, or sewing or whatever.  Know what you like, what you despise, what you are and are not capable of.  This way, when other people (douchebags) are doing that “Let me tell you something about YOU” crap, you can either admit internally that “yeah, maybe I could work on that” or “you’re a crazy bastard and I don’t need your judgements”.  Don’t rely on the two-bit opinions of people to form your own opinion of yourself.  More often than not, other poeple are wrong.  This kind of goes back to the “know when to accept blame thing.”

Another fun thing about this little part, getting to know yourself can normally result in liking yourself more.  Finding some sort of acceptance of who you are, of your big ears (cough, me, cough), or the way you laugh, or whatever it is you pick on yourself for without ANY reason.

Sixth– Finally, take care of yourself.  Be a priority in your own life.  For a long time people talked about learning to love yourself and I really didn’t understand.  I thought that meant tell people how much better you were than them… and guess what? That just makes people call you a “bitch.”  Which was sort of true at the time.

What I think they actually meant (I admit, I’m still sort of working it out), is to treat yourself like you were your own daughter (son if you have a penis).  This does not mean attempt to put your head up your vagina and give weird bizarre birth to yourself.  It doesn’t mean that at all.  But- think of it this way- if you had a daughter, would you stuff her full of shitty food and dress her like she was homeless?  Would you tell her she was stupid or not to bother with school or her friends?  No.  You would value her, make her feel special, treat her as the special being she is.  So, in a sort of creepy way, what I’m saying is to treat YOU like the special, unique, lovely being that you are. 

And there you have it.  I spent a year and a half hating myself, blaming myself, being angry at me and actually starving myself because I thought punishing my own person would somehow improve anything.  Surprise! It made it worse.  We all want to be told how important we are to other people, and while that’s normal and (duh) I do it too, it’s dangerous if “other people” start to supercede our own opinions.  So… just next time you feel like you’re becoming a big grey ball of “ugh,” remember that it’s temporary and you are better than that… and you are important.

*Also, points to me for managing to use SIKE twice in one post.*

The King’s Speech and My Lame Resolution… Not as Important As Epic Wartime Speeches.

*This was an awful post, written a few days ago and then forgotten about… But I need to put something on this blog that doesn’t reek of 2010 crappiness, so whatever.  I promise to make up for this blogtastrophe with better posts for the entire year.  I hope*

2011 has been a raging success so far.  In the 48 hours since it began, I believe I spent 30 of them drunk.  The other 18 were spent sleeping.  I think.  It’s hard to do math very well when your head feels like mine does right now.

People love to talk about resolutions… and I dread that I’ll have that conversation about 80 times in the next week with people too lazy to come up with something legitimate to talk about.  It doesn’t bode well for those conversations that I actually don’t have a resolution.  I resolve to do nothing except try not to die, which I’ve done every other year (some years with more enthusiasm than others) so I don’t mention it to people.  My roommate has taken me on as a cause and keeps hurling resolutions at me that I didn’t ask for, I’m nervous I’ve become the girl who needs to be saved from herself.  More on that later because that’s deeper than my current brain capacity can handle.  But probably not- I’ll more than likely forget.

Obviously I’d like plenty of things to happen in 2011 and I hope a shit-ton of things DON’T happen in 2011.  I would enjoy being named Princess of the United States (finally), and I would like to lose 8 pounds while eating cheesecake and drinking beer.  I hope I don’t get AIDS or get fat or evicted.  In essence I’m much too lazy to resolve to do anything, or resolve to STOP doing anything else.  Like I said- Big Things in 2011!

I did, however manage to already accomplish something.  I went to the movies…. which, I agree, sounds worthless and like an everyday thing that anyone can do.  But!  I went to the movies alone.  Let that sink in for a second.  On Sunday, I mustered the guts, energy and actual desire to walk my stocky little butt up to the theater all by my lonesome and sit through almost two hours of awesomeness BY MY SELF.  Which makes me officially ready to be a cat-lady.  Or officially independent… depending on how highly I’d like to think of myself, I switch between the two.

It was actually quite enjoyable.  I brought extra socks so I could keep my feet warm (which I normally just suffer through so I don’t look like a fucktard wearing two pairs of socks and flip flops), and nobody bothered me with inane commentary while I sat along the back (I’m not so ready to flaunt my loser-y aloneness just yet).  But on a serious note: it was a step toward shirking the general idea that people are always judging me, and furthermore, shirking whatever judgements they formed about the short girl wandering around without a companion and questionable foot-wear.  Because it’s true what people say: you’re really not as important as you think, and you’d be surprised to know how little people think of you.

Okay, so maybe I just blogged my way into a resolution: stop overestimating myself and keep my toes warm, and let everyone else be damned.  Easily the most ridiculous resolutions I’ve ever heard, let alone written for myself.

PS: go see the King’s Speech.  Promise.