Tipsy Ipsy

The extent to which this resonates with me may explain my previous post…

The extent to which this resonates with me may explain my previous post…

Ready for that dramatic single-girl ish? I know I am!

Last weekend I went on a backpacking trip, and the first day/night it was just myself and a couple. I wish I could say it was myself and two friends, but the male component of this couple, though lovely, isn’t a “friend” in a real way. He’s your friend’s boyfriend, ya know?

Anyway, there we were, all three of us, and I never felt more alone. What do you do? Do you give space? Do you stick tight like glue? I opted to lay on a rock and listen to music, and was rewarded with quite possibly the worst sunburn of my life. But while I was on that rock, unknowingly frying away, my wheels were just spinning and spinning. And when they came to rest, it was on the following conclusion…

Bluntly put, I no long want to hang out with any couples or groups of couples. Not because of this weekend, but generally, it just automatically casts you as the “outsider.” But as I’m (we’re) getting older, it’s harder and harder to find people that are not coupled up. Of course, here and there you get a night out, but even so, the other half of a couple will usually have one eye on the door starting at 11, and you can’t help but get the feeling that they’re staying out of pity for poor single you. But I’d rather be alone then trying to navigate the social norms of being the third wheel, and all that comes with it, whether self-inflicted or not.

Which leads me to the next ramble. Dear all my people with partners - please stop talking to me about my single status. I know that’s unfair, but your well-intentioned comments about “maybe there will be a guy!” or “have you tried online dating?” are abso-FUCKING-lutely killing me. This comes from every direction, and it’s exhausting to constantly have to nonchalantly swat away these types of comments.

At the moment, friends, I am what we call HUNG UP, big time, on an impossible situation. Let me figure out how to get over that, and then you can resume suggesting the Z-grade options, since I won’t have anyone to compare them to. But right now, I do. So, let me ruminate on that until I disgust myself, and since I’m using the totally healthy “bottle it up” method of dealing with it, you’re at least spared having to hear about it ad nauseum. 

To any of my IRL friends who may read this (ha!) this is not some cry for you to call me up and ask me about my vaguely referred-to unrequited love. Please let me preserve my silence on this one. I’ll get over it, and sorry, but I don’t want to talk about it (to you, bc obviously I’ll share with the internet…) 

What it’s come down to is this: all my single friends are in Sydney. I miss it, because I miss them. Because we are at a similar stage in life, and therefore can just relate to each other better. That’s the long and short of it. And I don’t have those friends here in the States. Literally, not one. Of my three closest friends, two are married and one is in a serious relationship. Sure, I have other friends but if the past year taught me anything, it’s to value quality over quantity and these “Plan B” friends are falling rapidly down the alphabet, landing somewhere around “Plan P”, just below cleaning the bathtub on a nightly basis. 

So there you have it. I’m almost 30, single, and obviously bitter as all hell. Sorry in advance friends who may take offense at this, but I can’t bring myself to delete this to save your feelings. I gotta get this out into the universe. 

Would that be called “blurging?” Blogging + purging? Yeah, sure. Let it out girl. And we’ll face the consequences in the morning. 

One of these days my one-sided love story is going to come splashing out and I’m really going to regret it.

Mixing that feminine with the masculine - silk tank with some Nikes.

Mixing that feminine with the masculine - silk tank with some Nikes.

I think everyone does. Even happy people. They may not admit it to anyone, but I think they feel it. I think they close their eyes, or go for a run, or take a long shower, so that they can forget just for a second who they are and what they have to do day in and day out. Living is hard. And every day our feet get heavier and we pick up more baggage. So, we stop and take a breath, close our eyes, reset our minds. It’s natural. As long as you open your eyes and keep going.

—Faking It - Cora Carmack (via maddyidk)

(Source: thewackospecialist, via bees-knees)

Happy Fourth, I’m clearly in full regalia…

Happy Fourth, I’m clearly in full regalia…

{Firsts}

The first day of really, truly dreading going to work. Only took 2.5 months. Sweet!

Did a little retail therapy yesterday and picked up these “repurposed” (aka legs chopped off) Levi’s that I’m already never taking off. They’re loose, sit low on the hips and don’t bunch up in the crotch. What’s not to love?! Still finding new ways to make my ankle boots work (thanks Pinterest!) and forcing my Turkish necklace and it’s non-stop jangle into innocent bystanders.

Did a little retail therapy yesterday and picked up these “repurposed” (aka legs chopped off) Levi’s that I’m already never taking off. They’re loose, sit low on the hips and don’t bunch up in the crotch. What’s not to love?! Still finding new ways to make my ankle boots work (thanks Pinterest!) and forcing my Turkish necklace and it’s non-stop jangle into innocent bystanders.

Man repelling since ‘85. Have done this one before but it’s a favorite so here it is again (I think)

Man repelling since ‘85. Have done this one before but it’s a favorite so here it is again (I think)

All black everything. Bring it on Monday.

All black everything. Bring it on Monday.