Wednesday, April 27, 2011

First Post-Breakup First Date: Part 2!!

OMG! Oh. my. god.

I'm exhausted and tired and have to get up early and go to bed. But holy shit....


I was soooooo nervous and obnoxious and could NOT SHUT UP. This guy is NEVER going to want to go out with me again. But you know what...

I would go out with him again.

I laughed. And laughed and laughed.

We talked about NOTHING. And it was phenomenal.

Somehow we got in a conversation about what type of classes/styles/lifestyles of people vegetables were. We decided cucumbers were yuppity and uppity. We decided that sweetpotatos were a kick ass starch. We decided that even though I like cauliflower I would never be cool because I work for the man.

It made no sense. But it was awesome.

He's sweet and nice and accommodating.

And maybe we are better off as friends. And maybe there will be no second date.

But there was a moment where I went to the restroom and I looked at myself in the mirror. And I wasn't just smiling with my mouth. I stared into my own eyes and my eyes were smiling. And I thought - you. are. okay.

And you are gonna be okay....

Yay! More tomorrow...


First Post-Breakup First Date

So...yeah...I've been single for what? A week and a half? And I have a first date. Sort of.

So remember how I got completely wasted 2 days after getting my heart completely stomped on by the unicorn imposter (sort of, I mean he's a pretty great guy. ugh. wish it weren't true) and how I hooked up with this guy in my circle of mutual friends? To feel better - no big deal.

Well what you don't know is that 7 days after getting broken up with I went out on the town again for my friend M's 30th birthday. And I was feeling it you know? Feeling great. Feeling so great it made me wonder if it really WAS A GOOD THING that David had dumped me? Like maybe I hadn't been myself around him? Or it had been harder than it should've been? Or that it was just so tiring trying to make someone happy that maybe couldn't be happy? I don't know. But last Friday - I felt great. I was dancing and laughing and finally eating again. (Did I mention I lost 8 pounds in 7 days because I barely swallowed a morsel? Every time I looked at food I felt like I was going to vomit. But I digress). I felt good. And The Math Teacher, or I suppose we could call him Rebound Guy, was there. And I talked to him. But I also talked to our friends. And I danced with him, but I also danced with my other girl and guy friends.

And at the end of the night...

I went home with him. Again.

Except this time...nothing happened. I mean I told him nothing would happen and he told me to come home with him anyway. And really folks. Nothing happened. We watched a ROCK movie (You know who the Rock is right? hah) and he held me. He held me ALL FUCKING NIGHT. I don't think David ever did that ONCE. Because he was a fickle sleeper and couldn't get to sleep. And he'd get cold and needed more blankets. blah. blah. blah. Its not that David never held me. But he never held me like that. And it made me sad. Like how could this man I spent months and months with never hold me like that. And why not? And why were we together? But I didn't think it was great that we were no longer together. I just still wished we were. And that he had changed. And been different. And loved me. And held me - like that. But he didn't. And we aren't. And he never will. It's the worst.

In the morning, The Math Teacher made me breakfast and we watched tv. He walked me outside and put me in a cab and asked me if I wanted to go out this week. What else could I say? I mean I guess I could say no? But why not? What the fuck else have I got to do?

So when I get off of work tonight around 8pm - I will officially GO BACK TO DATING. Which is my worst nightmare. I mean - to be honest - I rock at dating. You wanna know why? Because I'm friendly and energetic and interested in people and a good talker. And because I've been on about a thousand dates in my lifetime. Well not that many - but close. And I'm sick of it. I don't want to date anymore. I know I'm not supposed to say this and its anti-feminist bullshit or something but I don't want to date. I don't want to be single. 6 months ago I thought I hated marriage, children and men. And then I fell in love with someone. In a grown-up way. As a grown-up. I'm ready. Ready to be in love. Ready to settle down. Ready for marriage and children and all of it. And it sucks. Because to get there - I have to date. A lot. And go on bad dates. Probably. A lot of them.

So I'm starting with the math teacher. I think its going to be really really really REALLY weird. Because we started out by seedily hooking up. And I know him as a friend. And all my friends know him. And we all hang out together. And it just feels weird. And because I'm sad. And because I miss David. And because I wish David and I were having dinner. But we aren't. And a girl's gotta eat...

I'm going to try to be positive. And I'm going to be a good date. Because I always am. Because I can't help myself. Life goes on...because it does. So I will go on...because I must.

Cheers and wish me luck,

Monday, April 25, 2011

Post Breakup: Day 2

You aren't going to like this. That I behaved so poorly. But here goes it...

So I got drunk. Really drunk. After a mimosa brunch and nothing to eat. At 12pm on Sunday I hadn't eaten in almost 48 hours, but I did manage to down about 6 mimosas. Then I headed to meet some friends. Who didn't know that David was history. Literally.

"Let's get you drunk," they said.

"I'm already drunk," I said.

"More drunk?" they asked.

"I like your thinking," I replied.

And so I proceeded to get drunk. Really drunk. Beer after beer after beer kinda drunk. And then I came up with the greatest idea ever....

"Let's go to Camelot!!!" I ordered.

It was my day after all. Who could deny me? This was better than a birthday.

So myself and a caravan of friends headed to the strip club.

We got a table in front and I started pounding Rum and cokes. Delicious misery.

The Math Teacher is a guy in my group of mutual friends who was with us this night. He teaches children math - so I consider him pretty harmless. And he looked tall and cute with his full head of hair. After David who is short and balding (but don't get me wrong still handsome give me some credit), tall and a full head of hair was exactly what I needed.

"You'll be okay," The Math Teacher said.

"What I need," I responded, "is to be a guy."

"Come again?" he countered.

"You guys just start hooking up with another woman. Get over one person by getting under another. Why is it that girls pine away for seven months alone crying and weeping and feeling pathetic while guys just move on to the next piece of ass? It's not fair. I wanna post-breakup like a guy. I want to be with another guy as soon as possible. Just get it out of the way. Put another guy between me and David and start moving on. Now. What do you think?"

"What do you mean what do I think?"

Now for the record - I have never been this slutty in my life. Ever. But I was drunk. And I was sad. And I was determined.

"I think I wanna go home with you," I told him. "Really?" he said.

"Yes. But you have to do something for me..."

"What's that?"

"I need to feel beautiful. And SEXY."

"But you are beautiful. And sexy," he seemed to answer honestly.

"Tell me I'm beautiful and sexy as many times as possible. And I won't regret it."

"Okay," he said staring sincerely back at me.

Now some of my friends have thought this whole thing was stupid and bad. And that The Math Teacher was taking advantage of me in my weakened state. But I wholeheartedly knew what I was doing. I'm a big girl. I'm 28. I knew what I was doing. And it was my idea and my decision.

The Math Teacher began grabbing my leg under the table. And holding my hands. And brushing my arm. None of my friends noticed at first. It felt soooo good to be touched by someone else. Anyone else. Other than...

And I did go home with him. And he did tell me I was beautiful. And sexy. Maybe a hundred times. And I felt beautiful. And sexy. That other men would want me. And I would want them.

In the morning I laughed thinking about it all again. Blushing to myself. I couldn't believe I had done that. That was sooo not me. And it was stupid and ridiculous and really not all that great. But it was kind of silly and liberating and shocking. And made me laugh. And three days after a break-up, a little self-confidence and a little laughter couldn't be so bad. It had made me sad, because it wasn't nearly as good as when I was with someone I was truly attracted to -inside and out-and someone I cared about- like him. I would rather have been with him. But it made me feel beautiful. And sexy. And wanted. And a tiny bit of the memory of him had been blurred a little further in the past.

Judge me if you will, but it is what it is. And I don't feel as bad about it, as maybe I should.


Post-Breakup: Day 10

I feel okay.

I'm not gonna lie - I don't feel great. But I feel o-kay.

It's really REALLY hard to get up early when you are under the foggy weight of Tylenol PM, necessary to sleep at all. But I finally did get up. I showered and spent an enormous amount of time making my hair just so. Which was sort of stupid since I stepped out into the DC humidity (hello summer! didn't you know we only get about 3 days of spring and that's it before the swampy heat arrives?). I did my crossword while I waited for the bus like I always do. And on the subway.

I got to work swishing past everyone and everything to my desk. And I worked. Hard. I got a lot done. And I felt good about it. I had a work performance related meeting and I was given high praise. I listened to upbeat songs and podcasts on my iphone. And I felt o-kay.

It's not like I don't think about him. It's not like everything is fine. But despite the fact that its only been a little over a week. I feel o-kay. Like - I really am still me. You know? Some people go into relationships and they lose themselves. Or others don't know who they are to begin with. But when I met David, I was happy. And confident. And accomplished. And hopeful. And hardworking. And kind. I'm not the greatest person in the world. I have my faults just like anyone else. But I care about being considerate and thoughtful and especially kind to the other people in the world around me. I want to be a good person. And I want to challenge myself. I love my family. And my friends. And I like to laugh. A lot. And even though I'm no longer with a man, I'm still that woman. The happy, bubbly, crossword solving, kick ass lawyer that likes to laugh.

And that feels better than okay. It feels great to have me to fall back on. I'm still here. I'm just here alone. I feel like I should be weeping. Or eating tubs of ben and jerry's. But I'm not. You'd be proud of me. Anyways, I'm proud of me.

I've been taking good care of myself. This morning I had a strawberry-banana, plain-yogurt honey drizzled smoothie, special k cereal with skim milk and a skim cappucino. For lunch I had a plain grilled chicken breast and broccoli. For dinner I had tofu with a tablespoon of barbecue sauce and a pile of asparagus. When I got home I went for a run. 1.81 miles at 6:57 mins per mile. I was flying. Pumping my arms and dancing to the music. I couldn't listen to certain songs on my ipod. And I'm sure I thought about him once or twice. But I still felt o-kay. I still felt like me.

That's the best part of a breakup when you are a grownup. If you are true to yourself before and during - you still have the true you even when its just you. And that's something...

It's a lot. Everything isn't great (yet), but everything is okay.

Cheers and thanks for all the kind words of encouragement,


Sunday, April 24, 2011


Well, I don't know if fairy tales or unicorns do or do not exist. But I do know - that my current relationship didn't provide a happy ending. Because I have recently been unexpectedly, surprisingly, devastatingly -- DUMPED.

If he were an asshole or a bad guy. Or someone that didn't treat me well. Or that wasn't looking to settle down and have a family because we were too young or he wasn't ready or he was a commitment-phobe or the product of a divorce. Or he was moving away for school or work. Etc. If. If, if, if....there were a reason other than it just didn't feel right, it wasn't a good fit, I'm not "the one" I think it would be easier. Because then I could say I was better off. Then I could say I'd dodged a bullet. Then I could say there was a reason. Sometimes though, it's just not right. Sometimes though, you don't belong together. For no reason at all.

And it's just awful. It sucks. I completely understand why so many of you couldn't keep up with my I'M SO HAPPY, LIFE IS SO GREAT, PUPPIES AND FLOWERS AND CANDY BULL SHIT. Because if you aren't happy. If you are a sad sack, half-shell of a person you can't be around other people. You can't read their stories. I've been wanting to read Hilarity and Shoes and Maura Me to Love and Dating D.C. and so many more. But I don't want to read about relationships or dating or sadness or loneliness. I don't want to read about tales of empowerment and confidence and happiness and hope.

I want to be drunk. And abuse Tylenol P.M. And get through the motions of living. Because I must. I must pay my bills. I must get up. And shower. And dress. And work. And live. Because I am alive. And life continues. Whether you are happy that it does or not. Day in. And Day out. Breathing. Existing. And hopefully feeling nothing. Because if I let myself feel anything, then I will feel the sadness and the loss and the heartache and the confusion. I will miss him - David. A man who I thought was perfect for me. A man who I thought loved me. A man who made me happy. Until he didn't.

Friday, April 1, 2011

Two's Company, Four's a Bitch

*@andywhitedc is a DC resident, author and social media manager. His first guest post depicting yet another bad date and entitled "The Layers" can be found here. His second post, also about a bad date (see any patterns here hmm??) "Muted Lights, Small City" can be found here. Comments are always appreciated and thanks to Andy for guest posting. Enjoy.*

Two's Company, Four's a Bitch
Guest Post by Andy White

I went in open-minded, excited, ready to be debonair, suave and funny. I remained this way even after she rolled in 15 minutes late and withnot one, not two, but three comrades in tow.

I guess it didn't help matters when she announced that she was 22. Ihad put her anywhere from 26-33 when I met her briefly Saturday night.This age difference was immediately reinforced when she revealed shehad yet to set foot in a wine bar and was seemingly pleased with this achievement.

I pressed on. I tried gamely. Full charm offensive. Her expressionchanged from stoic to glum to nonplussed no matter when was thrown ather. It was as though she had been used to staccato-like sentencesfrom her 22-year-old brethren and that anything more caused undue painto compute.

After an hour of this, she announced that she wanted to see 'what her friends were doing'. Her friends were sitting 6 feet behind us, but nevertheless we turned and moved to sit with them to discover exactlywhat it was that they were doing. And thus began a period of elegantly excruciating awkwardness. She immediately turned her full and complete attention to said friends, refusing to even look in my general direction.

Her friends gamely engaged me in conversation and I madethe best of it, but what became apparent to the point ofridiculousness was that she was either completely and socially ineptto the point of retardation, or she genuinely found me repellent andlikened her friends' banal dialogue to be the stuff of Noel Coward.

For the second hour, the hour with the three friends, the three friends I was still slightly surprised to see sitting right there,right now, with me, we probably exchanged but 20 words.

At the conclusion, the friends looked at me cap in hand: they wanted me to pay.

You couldn't make it up.