It is!! Picture it – Forever 21 (which I have loved since I was 16) is chock-full of cheap pieces, in a variety of colors and styles. Like that shirt, but wish that it came in blue? No problem, it’s over there. Think that skirt would be cuter with an exposed zipper? Yeah, that’s over in that section at the front of the store. Inevitably you end up with an overflowing pile of clothes to take back into the dressing room with you, wondering how on earth you are going to afford everything, only to discover that not one thing looks good on you. It’s either too big, too small, too sheer, too short, too much! And you leave the store wondering how you could have spent 90 minutes in there with absolutely nothing to show for it. But you know what? A few months later, that same store will lure you in with a promise of new styles, only for you to discover it’s the same old crap with new zippers.
They might as well rename OKcupid “Cupid21.” It leaves you with exactly the same emptiness.
Doing the same thing over and over again, and expecting different results. Like calling Ex. Sure, the last couple of times that we talked we had some nice conversations. But the last three times I’ve called, he has not returned my calls, texted me to say “Hey, I’m busy right now. I’ll hit you up later,” or even emailed to tell me to F-off. So why do I keep calling? Loneliness, euphoric recall, utter insanity? I think any if those will work for me excuse.
Don’t do stupid things. It’s not just a clever name – they really are stupid.
When it’s late at night, you’ve had a long, lazy weekend, and you’re feeling a little lonely, don’t google your exes. You will see things you don’t want to see – like wedding dates. And even though you’ve moved on, there will still be that selfish part of you that wants everyone else to put their life on hold until you are fabulously happy, so that their happiness will just be icing on the cake.
So, take it from me – Google is not your friend. It will not tell you things you want to hear. If it tells me next that Joshua Jackson is engaged to Diane Kruger, I’m bidding the Internet goodbye. Maybe.
I was listening to the radio, and that song “Miss Independent” by Neyo came on. Now, I like this song, and I like Neyo, so I was rocking out, singing along, when something struck me. The song is a guy singing about some girl that he’s falling for, and some of the lyrics are as follows: “car and a crib, she’s bout to pay them both off/and her bills are paid on time.”
Why is this something to write home about? Isn’t everyone supposed to pay their bills on time? Isn’t that just kind of common action? Is it so rare that people would pay their bills on time that this is now something to be celebrated?
I asked my mom these questions when she rightly pointed something out – my sister is currently dating someone in their 30s who does not have a job, and who has not had a job in over a year. He has no issue with sponging off of her and our family. Ex had a pretty flexible relationship with jobs. J just went on a date with someone who did not have a job and was not looking for one. In fact, as I talked to more of my girlfriends, it became apparent that there was a dearth of men out there in the dating world who were not working in any way, shape or form.
So maybe that’s why they’re looking for women who pay their bills on time…
A few weeks ago, J and I were at Blue Dahlia, and one of the server asked us what the meaning of life was. I answered “to love your fellow man;” J answered simply “to be happy,” which is usually my other response.
Flash forward a few weeks to my recent rant about wanting my exes to be happy, and wanting to be more happy, and T rightly pointed out to me that different people operate at different levels of happiness. How many relationships have you been in or observed where one person is miserable and the other person in blissfully unaware of their mate’s plight? T reminded me of a relationship that I was in where I was so horribly unhappy it was almost unbearable, and my guy at the time was totally happy. When I split with him, he was genuinely shocked, and had no clue that there had been any trouble, despite our fights and my outward signs of misery – weight gain, all black clothing, lack of any cooking whatsoever. T stated that his level of happiness was the same as my level of miserableness.
So the next time you are checking out the green grass on the other side of the street, remember, it may be AstroTurf. The only level of happiness you can ever be sure of is your own, so don’t worry about other people. Just make yourself happy.