Posts Tagged ‘lowered expectations

Last year at this time, I was nervously sitting on a plane next to a half-naked Russian, on my way to Edinburgh. I didn’t know if British would remember to come get me or what I was getting myself into.

This year, I left work, got about two blocks, heard a “thump…thump…thump” as I drove and realized there was a nail in my tire. I sat at the gas station waiting for my roadside assistance and bought a lottery ticket while I was there. (Wouldn’t that be an even better story for next year??? Keep your fingers crossed.) And then went to the mall to spend money I shouldn’t be spending. I just didn’t want to come home and be alone.

I hate that I still open my email and sometimes, out of nowhere, I get this thought that I’ll have an email from him. Spoiler alert: I never do. It’s now a year to the day of the only time we ever met. He never put the effort or time in to coming here – and that still hurts, a lot, mostly because it’s a reminder of what an idiot I was. Possibly still am.

He left me with so much doubt about myself – Why wasn’t I good enough for him? Why didn’t he love me enough? What was missing in me that he would rather end it on Facebook than try to make it work? Why didn’t he want to give us a second chance?

And I know that it was never me… it was always his issues, and nothing I could’ve said or done would’ve changed any of that. And I know that if we’d stayed together beyond last Christmas, the outcome was going to be the same, just delayed and more hurtful. He had given me enough signs and flat out told me things that I chose to ignore because I didn’t want to believe him. I wanted to believe I was different, stupid girl that I am. UGH.

Honestly though, I don’t think I’m crying over him anymore. It’s everything else. It’s a year later and NOTHING is fucking different, except we’re not together. But, given that we were never really together, even that’s not so different. I haven’t met anyone new that I’ve sparked with. My job hasn’t turned out the way I thought it would. I am completely underwater on the mortgage for my place. (I actually just wrote out my property-tax check…. it’s so devalued, it’s worth less than a Port-a-Potty. Fucking awesome.)

I have never felt so stagnant in my life and it’s killing me. I look at my friends who are married and raising their kids and I’m nowhere near being in the same place. 30. My magic number had been 30: Married, 3 kids, great job. All by 30. Nope. Didn’t happen.

But, even with all of that, I know I don’t have it bad. At all. My job, regardless of how I feel about it, more than pays my bills and takes me to exotic destinations that I would have never otherwise seen. My friends, who I love, listen to me and put up with my bullshit and are amazing. My family, who drive me nuts in the best possible way, loves me and wants the best for me. I have more than a lot of people ever do and ever will.

When I was waiting for the auto-repair guy, I watched a man – very skinny, 80’s looking jeans that were barely staying up, a strange “crop-top” button down shirt that seemed like it was for a kid, big bushy hair in a ponytail, and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth. I decided in the 3 seconds that I watched him that he’s a meth-addict. He went in and I was curious to see what he would buy… nothing. He came out with a black bag, some papers, and then went through the trash and left.

So fuck it…  At least I’m not going through trash for food, or money or anything else.

But still, this is how I feel for now (and here’s hoping something changes, soon):



Guess who just called? Z.

Thank god for this blog, otherwise I wouldn’t have remembered we last “talked” a MONTH AGO.

WHY IS HE CALLING?!?!?! I mean, sure I said in the last voicemail I left him that he was welcome to keep in touch but I didn’t really think he would.  And, I assumed if he was going to, that it wouldn’t take SO LONG to be in touch. Fucking idiot.

I didn’t pick up his call, because why would I? Actually, I assumed he mis-dialed and wasn’t expecting a voicemail. But lo and behold, the message he left was: “Hey! Sorry it’s taken so long to call you – I’ve just been really busy. Best time to get a hold of me is on the weekend. Just thought I’d call so we could catch up. Hope you’re doing well.”

“Sorry it’s taken so long”????? Like I was sitting here waiting?!!?!? UGH! I am not calling back. Maybe I’ll text him later, but what is this bullshit? His parents are probably pissed he managed to screw it up, yelled at him and that’s the reason for the call after one month.

Oh! AND! The other one?? We’d emailed a few times back and forth, and the last email I sent was a week ago. No response since then, which I told my parents and of course Dad was like, “Should I call his mom and tell her he’s not writing?”  Sigh… No, Dad. That’s not necessary. (My poor parents. I really do feel awful for them with this whole thing….) I went ahead and emailed him again, of course. Let’s see how long this one takes to end in nothing!

This title could apply to SO MANY THINGS in my life, but in this case, it’s just a story about my upcoming trip to London.

A few of us went out on Friday night, and somehow, we all ended up fairly drunk. I mean, maybe it was like the 5 drinks each we all had…

In any case, I was chatting with my friend that I’m going to London with – she is a lot fun, really laid back and we were both getting super hyped about everything.

In my drunken state, I said to her: “Our goal for London should be to GET INTO BUCKINGHAM PALACE!!!!!!!  So I can meet my future PRIIIIIIIIIIIIIINCE!!!!!!!!!!!!”

She, in her drunken yet surprisingly realistic state, said: “Um….OK. Let’s lower our goals. We should maybe just be happy if we see the palace for about 30 seconds, on our way to the pub, and we keep walking.”

A few guards, gates and some fencing isn’t really going to stop me…

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