Tag Archives: relationships

When will he call you?

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Ladies, we wait and wait for that phone call, don’t we? Of course, we don’t want men to know that, but men, we are.

The Setting: We either just got home from a spectacular first date, or we have just been dumped by our boyfriend of two years. We are waiting for the voice on the other end of the call to either tell us– “Wow! You’re amazing. I would love to see you again.” Or “I miss you. I was an idiot to ever think I could do better than you.”

But what our irrational-love-infused mind cannot comprehend is that a watched pot never boils (and trust me, I make a lot of pasta!) And it’s the reasoning behind why we do wait. It’s why when we type into Google, “When will he…” call is the third guess Google has for us (propose is first, followed by ask me out). It’s why we go to the bookstore to find the self-help books. It’s why we watch all six seasons of Sex and the City after a breakup. But the answer isn’t in the aforementioned places. It’s right here, on my blog.

So, when will he call you?

Never.

Ouch! Harsh? Perhaps. Truthful? For sure. If it has been over a month and no word from that person, start looking elsewhere. But don’t drown in your sea of sorrow, reader. You’re awesome! Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t see that.

When you’re with a new love and/or have moved on to bigger and better.

Exes always seem to come back at the wrong time (for them). It’s usually the right time for you. You know, when you’ve moved across the country, got more attractive, and have dated at least three men since him. Humor him though! It’s a wonderful ego stroke.

When your phone dies or is turned off.

Going off the grid on purpose is a freeing experience. I visited Vancouver, British Columbia about a month ago, and turned my phone off (namely because I was roaming…) And for those two days, I didn’t care about the possibility of someone not being able to reach me. But have you ever had your phone die unexpectedly when you’re not within distance to a charger? Oh, god! What a terrible feeling. When I got back into the States after my short adventure, someone called me and left a voice-mail.

The moral of the story: leave the country for a few days. He’ll call. Sans passport? Turn phone off.

When you change your phone number.

You decide to do a reckless thing after your breakup. You’re in Stage 3 of I have a Broken Heart, now what?: ANGER. You think, “Oh yeah? He doesn’t want me in his life anymore?! FINE! I’m going to go change my number. Now he will never be able to contact me.” And you do go change it. He inevitably will call because that’s how Life works. And remorse starts to set in. But really, why would you want to get back together with someone who pretty much deemed you unlovable?

If anything, you still have facebook to get in contact with one another.

Calm down, it has only been four hours.

You’re too eager. Let him miss you a bit, yeah? Good.

Not on Valentine’s Day.

He won’t even know it is Valentine’s Day. February 14 is just another day in the year. (As it should be…)

He won’t. He’ll text you.

Along with the rest of my generation, I loathe talking on the phone. We prefer text. I break out in sweat at the thought of having to call someone to set up a hair appointment. What do you mean I can’t do this online?!

So when you hear your phone ringing for some odd reason, don’t get your hopes up! It’s just an automated voice trying to sell you an alarm system.

When he wants to.

Yep. If he genuinely is interested in you, reader, he will call you. It’s hard to wrap one’s head around that but he will. Why? Because you’re awesome and he knows it.

Or you could discard all of these answers and call text him yourself.

*Jamie snapped this shot in Portland, OR.

In Perspective: Unrequited Love

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I once liked a boy, who didn’t like me.
A boy even liked me once, but I didn’t like him.

Unrequited love–My marital status throughout most of middle and high school. (Later on in life, I got a bit more lucky.)

Life is rough when you’re a boyfriendless, fourteen-year-old girl suffering from a crazy little thing called unrequited love. (Oh wait, those aren’t the lyrics.) But come on, everyone would have to agree that unrequited love sucks at any age! It fits oh, so, snugly under the category The Worst Feeling in the Whole Entire World. Some other things would include: waking up five minutes before you have to be at work while rushing out the door (sans shower and coffee), experiencing food poisoning on vacation, and having dreams nightmares where one is pregnant (But, man, what a relief waking up!).

Like most teenage girls, my life was defined by the opposite sex. (We can thank Disney for that one.) Did I have a boyfriend? Did anyone like me? Did I even like anyone? I remembering “liking” multiple boys just to increase my chances of getting a boyfriend. It didn’t work, of course. I also remember “liking” boys just to make my life more interesting because what woman doesn’t love to over-analyze when a man says “fine” and “sure.” Does he, like, really mean that? Something is totally wrong.

While most of my friends were out catching boyfriends, I was sulking in my room wondering, “Why not me?” My online and handwritten journals were filled with the unrequited-love blues. After all, it can be quite detrimental to a person’s ego, especially a shy, insecure girl going through puberty. Imagine that you have finally found the courage (it was hiding behind procrastination and motivation, by the way) to go up to that someone, who you’ve only watched from afar, and proclaim your feelings to only receive absolutely nothing in return.

But then again, should we be surprised by the outcome? We aren’t in the movies. Our crushes wouldn’t just confess that they, too, have been watching us from afar all along. This could be the cause of unrequited love! The cause being we are lusting after people who are simply out of our league. When we are younger, our parents tell us we can be anything we want to be when we grow up. In our simple minds we figured we could have anyone we wanted as well, regardless of how attractive they were. We are setting ourselves up to be unloved in return.

Alas, I must touch on both sides of the spectrum. (As I have been found on both sides before.) Surely we have all had our fair share of people who we weren’t interested in, but who clearly were interested in us.

I had a really good friend during my freshman year of high school. The said friend was a boy and he liked me, a lot. (He actually confessed his love for me.) Although flattered, I had no interest in him. I told him that he was my good friend and that’s all I could ever see him as. Ouch, Jamie! On the other hand, I knew exactly how he felt because at the same time I was pining for the popular tall, dark, and handsome boy in the junior class, who had no idea of my existence. Oh, high school.

Fortunately by the time I entered my senior year of high school, I had finally experienced requited love. (I could finally relate to those damn love songs!) So, what’s the secret? Time. I was no longer that awkward 14-year-old girl going through puberty. I’ve continued to grow as a person since then. I got smarter, hotter, and funnier all the while attracting better quality men each and every time. Soon enough, you’re bound to meet the perfect person for you. So don’t worry, pubescent person reading my blog, you’ll get rid of the unrequited-love bug soon enough. Just give it time.

Or maybe lower your standards?

*Getty Images

The underrated (and overrated) places to meet that someone.

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Let’s face it, life isn’t about making the most money. It’s not about having the most friends, either. It’s about finding one person who will love you enough to put up with your shit (and if you’re lucky, someone who is attractive, funny, and intelligent). But the problem is that it’s a difficult and even daunting task to find someone who is not only attractive, funny, and intelligent but who will also find your flaws endearing.

When we are lazy frustrated with love and relationships we don’t bother going to search for someone. We stay single, and write empowering facebook statuses that include: “I don’t need a man. I can pay my own bills.” (37 likes from other single ladies ensue.)

But when we do find the motivation to go and search for that someone we don’t know where to even begin. Well, readers, don’t fear! This is where I come in.

I’ve come up with some underrated (and overrated) places to meet that someone. People everywhere are looking in all the wrong places. They’re relying too heavily on Yahoo! Answers and self-help books which are just leading them to meet some lame people, who will eventually break up with them.

The underrated places.

  • In traffic.
    • While living in Florida, my daily commute coming home from work was 45 minutes. That is 225 minutes. That is three hours and 45 minutes spent driving. That is the equivalent of watching a movie and two episodes of Dexter. That is the equivalent of getting a haircut and pedicure. (I have long, thick hair. Ahem.) What I am trying to say is that we waste a lot of time in traffic. After all, time is precious. This time spent in a car could essentially be time spent trying to meet that someone. Ah ha! Well, why not put the two together? There have been plenty of times when I was sitting in traffic and singing my heart out to Bob Seger’s Night Moves when I would look to my left to see a quite nice-looking man smirking at me. Horrified, I had no where to run and hide. I couldn’t simply push the accelerator and go, I had to simply stay put. Now if I were confident I would have rolled my window down and asked for his number, but I’m not so he got away. Next time you’re sitting in bumper-to-bumper traffic, take a peek at the drivers around you. He or she could just be that someone.
  • On public transit.
    • For the people fortunate enough who don’t have to sit in traffic, public transit is the next best option. Again, we spend a lot of time (and money) commuting to work. The next time you get on to the subway, why not find the one seat directly across from that Keanu Reeves look-alike? You meet some interesting people on public transit. I once received a flower from a man who told me I had beautiful teeth on the MAX in Portland. Granted, he was drinking Rolling Rock from a can at 10:30 in the morning but perhaps if I wasn’t so judgmental (Come on, beer in a can?!?!), he could have been that someone.
  • Through a blog. (Preferably your own.)
    • Online dating is becoming more socially acceptable. Slowly, but surely. I’ve already confessed to my readers that I’ve met men on the internet. It’s simply easier for me. But at the same time, online dating is tricky. The key to meeting that someone isn’t to sign up for Match.com or any of those dating sites. Wait, what? When doing it that way, you’re intentionally putting yourself out there making it really difficult. (It’s the equivalent of hoping you meet someone at a bar. See below.) When you’re writing hilarious, witty posts on your very own blog (ahem), it sometimes attracts people. It even attracts that someone. (Trust me. I know.) Not only will you acquire your biggest blog fan, you will have landed yourself a man. Not a writer? Well, you better become one quickly or have some hope that my other underrated places work out for you.
  • In a bookstore.
    • The reason being (and really the only)? It’s the perfect setting. If my life were a movie, and I was about to meet that someone (played by Joseph Gordon-Levitt, naturally) it better take place in a bookstore. There I’d be: moseying through the aisles, when suddenly I’d see him with his nose buried in a book, he’d look up to see my gaping face, we’d briefly make eye-contact before I’d coyly look away. As you can see, I have some pretty lame fantasies. But, reader, seriously go to a bookstore, there’s bound to be an intellectual,  charming, and attractive person in there for you.
  • Going anywhere in public without showering.
    • It’s true. You’re bound to meet that someone when you’re least expecting it. Enough said.

The overrated places.

  • In a bar or club.
    • This is the most overrated place people believe they could potentially meet that someone. Who even came up with this idea? Has this person even been to a bar? Don’t they know it’s loud? One cannot make any type of conversation in a dark room that has DJ Quivering Machine blasting the latest tracks. Yes, when alcohol is involved confidence usually comes out but the next morning so does regret. Meeting at a bar is so overrated that people are flocking to bars with high hopes of finding Mr. Tall, Dark, and Handsome. Surely if everyone is going to the same place, I can only imagine the difficulty of trying to get his or her attention when everyone is fighting for one thing: that someone. Good luck with that.
  • Through a friend of a friend.. of a friend.
    • ZzzZzzzZ.
  • Work
    • I’m bias toward anyone meeting at the workplace. Mostly because I’m annoyed that my ex-boyfriends dumped me for their now girlfriends or wives through work. Besides, if you do meet someone at work and god forbid the two of you break-up, how awkward. Poor Jennifer Carpenter and Michael C. Hall must know! Their characters play siblings on Dexter, get married in real-life, later divorce, and now *spoiler alert* Deb (Carpenter) is having… feelings for her brother? Cruel writers, I tell you!
  • School
    • High-school sweethearts? Pfffft! How unoriginal of you two. I like to think that they got stuck in a comfortable routine and can’t get out. They figured, “Hey, let’s just stay together.” I get it, though. It’s rough out there! (Why else would I be writing this post?) I mean why bother breaking up if you already met the person who will put up with your shit? The two just met earlier than most of us will meet our someone. (It’s still overrated…)
  • On a dating reality television show.
    • The next time you’re watching The Bachelor and Chris Harrison asks, “Do you know of someone who is looking for true love? Apply or nominate someone now by going to ABC.com” Do not raise your hand, and scream at the television, “I do! I do!” Yes, you will get whisked away in a helicopter every now and then. Yes, you will go on fabulous dates in exotic locations. But no, you won’t find true love. Look I’m not being harsh. I am forewarning anyone contemplating going on a dating show. I’ve see too many women crying at the camera because Ben, a man they’ve known for two weeks, didn’t give them a rose. If only they read this post. If only.

I hope this helps any of my desperate single readers looking for love.

*Getty Images.

The 10ish types of couples I hate*.

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I’m a singleish woman in my early twenties. Inevitably, couples sort of annoy me. And not because I’m bitter either. But because when people are in love they do irksome things, which can be oblivious to the twosome, but something singletons are completely aware of. Don’t get me wrong–I get it as it’s truly a wonderful feeling.

Nonetheless, in no particular order I present to you–the different types of couples in which I hate*. I simply had to visit facebook for 17 minutes to come up with the following tenish. (However, it took threeish weeks to write.) So, yes, you and your significant other may or may not have been a bit of inspiration to my post.

[*Writer's note: Hate may be a bit strong of a word.]

1. The couple who share a facebook page.
Firstly, why? I understand that you are together, but we must remember Relationship Rule #3: Do not lose your identity. How do I mean? Well, you are your own individual person. I am sure there has been a point in everyone’s (or just mine) relationship where someone loses their identity. If you share a facebook account with your partner, you are no longer you. You do remember who that is, right? YOU! That extremely awesome person you were before he or she came around. You had hobbies (not his). You had friends (not his). And you even had aspirations (not putting yours aside for him.. ahem). Perhaps it’s about convenience? Naaaaaah. Perhaps they think it’s a cute way of being The Perfect Couple? (Like, the statuses would no longer be written in first person, rather first person plural. Awww.)  Naaaaaah. The cynic in me believe it’s about insecurity. The two simply need to keep tabs on one another. Wahn, wahn, waaaaahn.

2. The couple who have the same default facebook picture. (Assuming I’m friends with both members of the party.)
Why, oh, why can’t you each have a different default photo? I’m not saying you should not have a picture with the two of you together. That is completely fine. The thing that is not completely fine is having the same exact photo. The reason it annoys me? It makes it harder for me to determine who is who without having to look at the name above. Selfish of me? Probably. (I’m singleish after all.)

2.5 The couple (more than likely girlfriend) whose default album is filled with 49 different pictures of the two of them kissing. Whether it’s in a car, at the beach, or in bed. She thought at that very moment their lips touched, a camera needed to be involved. Inevitably, she would post it to the world to see making it photo number 50 in her album. Imagine how heartbreaking it will be once the two break up! She will have to delete them all and take a photo of just… herself. Sniff.

3. The couple who always break up, but then seem to get back together again.
Make up your minds! You know you’re not right for one another, so listen to my solution–stop trying and move on.

4. The couple that you can’t believe they’re still together.
I was fairly certain I gave the two of you sixth months, at the max. But each time I go lurk on visit your facebook page, I feel this pang in my heart that clearly means, “Still? The two of you caused a year of unhappiness for me. Why hasn’t karma come to bite you in the ass yet?” I then quickly remember my life is going exceptionally well without you in it.

5. The couple who stay together because of a baby.
For some reason, people think a baby will make a relationship stronger. At least the type of relationship where the two clearly don’t belong with one another. (See below.) I learned in my college education that if a couple gets married because of a baby, the more likelihood of divorce. Just sayin’

6. The couple who aren’t right for one another.
 No blurb necessary.

7. The couple who are just too damn happy.
Stop it! Right now! A person can spot this couple quite easily. The two of them enjoy writing statuses about one another: bragging how great he is, boasting how beautiful she is. I’m on to the two of them. It makes me suspicious because no two people can be that happy with each other. As someone who is very near and dear to me would say: Where is the grit?! I concur.

8. The high school couple.
They’re the dramatic duo. The couple who believe their romance is a modern-day Romeo and Juliet. Or perhaps Bella and Edward would be more suitable. They are a mix of couple 2, 2.5, 3, 4, 6 and 9. As I used to say, high school and romance don’t belong together. Just like this couple.

9. The overtly PDA couple
Perhaps I’m just a bit of a prude. But when seeing a couple passionately making out at a bar, I can’t help but stare. Come on! We don’t need to see that. There are other acceptable public displays of affection a couple could do: holding hands, playing footsie, or grabbing his or her butt. Stick with any of the three, please.

9.5 The same-side-seater couple
Dammit. I used to be apart of this couple! The couple who insists on sitting next to their partner while dining out. Years ago I read in a women’s magazine that it’s often more romantic to sit next to someone while eating. And I did that. On our fourth date, I asked if I could sit next to him and he obliged. Since that moment, we would sit next to one another for the next year or so while dining out. I was able to squeeze his hand, touch his leg, and easily steal a fry or two. When we would eventually break up, I started working in a restaurant as a hostess and I developed an abhorrence for certain types of people. One of them being couples who would come in on a busy Saturday night when the wait would exceed an hour, and refuse to sit in a booth suited for only two because they needed to sit next to one another. On a more recent date, I asked him would he mind if I sat next to him in which he replied, “No, you don’t like those types of people.” Touché. It was easier to play footsie across from him, anyway.

10. The couple who are waiting until marriage.
I just don’t get it. Being romantically physical with a person is an important part of a relationship. Just like communication, trust, and good looks. Don’t get me wrong–sex DOES complicate things. But how often would one buy a car without testing it out?  Why not test how their significant other runs… in bed? Because of one silly thing: religion. Because the Bible “tells them so.” Doh! I don’t know the statistics of how long marriages last when saving themselves. Maybe it’s higher than most.

Eh, probably not.

The Mistakes Lessons Learned

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I once made a mistake at the age of 18. (Haven’t we all?) Some will say it’s never a mistake, rather a lesson learned.

Okay, fine. FINE!

I once “learned a lesson” about relationships at the age of 18. A lesson that will forever stick with me, I hope.

Once upon a time, I was in love with a boy. A boy who I thought was probably the greatest person in the world. He was the smartest, funniest, and most attractive boy who had ever liked me in the 18 years of my existence. He would eventually become my boyfriend. (I hope you weren’t expecting an unrequited love story, reader.)

We were also living 300 miles away from one another when we decided we wanted to be together. And as they say–absence makes the heart grow fonder. Oddly enough, the relationship would be its strongest because we were miles away from one another. Our hearts would grow fonder, and this boy would eventually move back to the city where we met months earlier. Unfortunately this would also be the downfall of the relationship.

At 18, he was the person I could see being with for years and years down the road. Despite him not having many of my deal sealers for Mr. Almost Right. (Relationship lesson #3: Good looks can only get one so far.) It only made sense to do the thing I’ve now come to regret learn about relationships. We were hardly ready to get married, thus we did what seemed to be the appropriate next thing to do before tying the knot: cohabitate.

Why would I ever think living with this boy was the right thing to do? I guess because I was always over at his apartment and vice versa. It didn’t make sense for him to have his own place and mine. I guess because I felt I was mature enough to move out of my parent’s house, and take on bills. I guess because I was in love with this boy, and it felt like the next step would be exactly this.

Wrong.

I learned that there really is a difference between living and staying over (almost) every night at someone’s house. You have to make choices together, like deciding what couch would look good sitting in the living room. And there’s cleaning responsibilities. Ha! And then there’s also paying bills together.

I’ve learned one thing about cohabitating, and that it is the deciding factor between two people to see if they’re compatible or not. And we weren’t. (This is a story of two incompatible people, and how they discovered that.)

My boyfriend would eventually become the roommate who I never saw. I became unhappy because I had these expectations about our living situation. (Silly me!) For instance, I expected him to come home each night because that was where we both lived. Naturally, he didn’t agree. I would become too involved with his life, and completely forget about mine. (What were my hobbies again?) I learned that our 800 square feet living situation was claustrophobic for both of us.

As our year lease was nearing, we would come to the agreement that although we wanted to be together, we needed to live in separate places. After all, we had never been properly together with our own places, while living in the same city. As the weeks went on, I kept thinking to myself that if he can’t live with me now, how will he ever?

We would eventually break up, and I would still write about it three years later.

I’ve always blamed our breakup on the fact that we moved in together. And her. Why could I never accept the fact that maybe we just weren’t ever that compatible in the first place? When I lurk on his facebook page, I can’t help but wonder where I would be if we were still together. Miserable? Happy? Apathetic? Longing for something else? Fortunately, moving in with him early on saved me years of wondering, and I learned we were not compatible, and never would be.

I know that the next time I get serious with someone, and that inevitable step will come, I know I’ll be terrified. I won’t know when the “right time” will be to live with someone. Is there a minimum number of years before that should happen? Five years? When you get engaged? Perhaps there’s not. Perhaps two people just take the plunge into the fear of the unknown and hope it all works out for the best.

True Life: I’ve met men on the internet.

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Does this come as a shock to anyone reading this? Not because it is me. (We will get to that in a little bit.) But because it’s the 21st century and we do literally everything online: pay bills, buy Britney Spears’ chewed gum (sold for $263 on eBay, by the way), and video chat family members miles away. In other words, my generation would be lost without internet.

Yet, when it comes to admitting that I’ve met men on the internet, it comes off as one thing to people: desperate. As if, judgmental people.

I’m writing this to prove you jerks wrong.

First off, it should be that noted that I’ve never, never, NEVER signed up for a dating site to intentionally go looking for men. After all, that’s what free sites, like Myspace, were created for. [Note: Do you remember when Myspace was cool? It was eons ago, but it was really spectacular at one point. I would normally pick a song to depict my love life. I would put a picture of  Seth Cohen under "Who I'd like to meet" and I made sure that my best friend was my number one friend, unless I had a boyfriend at the time.]

I’ve met less than a handful of men, online, in which two of them became boyfriends. (In fact the only two I’ve ever had.) Thus, I like to say it has been quite positive. But now many will wonder why I could ever give relationship advice. I think it’s because I am a really great writer.

The one time I dated someone without A/S/L being the first letters exchanged was to a neighbor. While yes, convenient at times, once things fizzled I was afraid to leave my apartment. Inevitably I just moved out.

Some may (or may not) ask why would I, a seemingly normal girl, rely on the web to meet people. It’s simple, really.

First, it’s just easier for me. (Or maybe I’m just lazy.) I can get to know a man from a comfortable distance: in my pajamas with disheveled hair, all the while eating a juicy cheeseburger that is dripping down my chin. In other words, I am being myself without Insecurity knocking. (He’s almost as bad as that Procrastination guy, I tell ya!)  Secondly, I’m a writer and can tell a lot about judge a man (or person) by the way he (or she) writes. Some believe a woman having two cats is a deal breaker, but if a man doesn’t know when to use the correct your, their, its, or to I know we won’t last. It’s a fact of life.

I know some of you are still not convinced. Damn you. Most of you are wondering why not go out in the real word and meet a man. First off: if you’re not in school, it’s harder than you think. If you’re a new resident to a city and know absolutely no one, it’s hard enough to make friends. Many of you will likely suggest at a bar. I retort: why is it any better for two people to meet at a bar than the web? Why is not just as desperate to go to a bar and wait and wait and …wait for an intoxicated man to never come up to me? Are you thinking: “Uhh, like, you know, because, like, you’re not hiding behind a computer. Duh! He could be, like, a total creeeeeeper! Haven’t you ever watched To Catch a Predator on Dateline?! You don’t know who you would eventually meet. (Um, hello, that’s what Skype is for!)

It’s true that I won’t know who I will eventually meet face-to-face. Will it really be the scruffy-faced, dark haired, charming man I’ve been exchanging witty banters with for the past few weeks or will he have a receding hair line and approaching 39… quickly? Well, what about those Valentine’s Day hearts filled with chocolate? We don’t know what’s going to be in the inside of those chocolates, now do we? Will it be raspberry cream? Yum. Or will it be coconut? Meh. Does it stop us from taking a bite into it? Absolutely not. We are a curious bunch.

The moral of the story is that a person could be lying about themselves regardless of where the fairy tale setting takes place when you meet Commoner Charming. While yes it’s less likely for a person who we don’t meet online to lie about their physical appearance but they sure can emphasize. For instance, I am fooling everyone into thinking I see really well, but I desperately need eye contacts. I also color my hair. But I don’t like to think that I am lying. I’m simply emphasizing these qualities. This is exactly what people do on the internet. We are highlighting our best features: infectious laugh, easily amused, and has two awesome cats. We don’t introduce ourselves while also sharing the fact that we haven’t shaved in over a month. Namely because that would be a deal-breaker and we would be forever alone.

But this is dating! Whether it’s online, blind, or speed dating. We are all trying to do one thing: meet that someone special by impressing one another. It normally takes me hours to get ready for a date. (Mentally and physically). I switch outfits 84 times and finally settle on the one I started with. On a day-to-day basis, I get up, wash my face, throw on the same jeans I have been wearing all week, brush my teeth, make my hair elegantly disheveled, and I run out the door.

After all the dating and courting shenanigans is when we can finally introduce our true self. Slowly, but surely we can start to reveal those bad habits no one knows about. And if the other person accepts our flaws, our grit, or the fact that we haven’t shaved in over a month, then great. At least then we know it’s real.

[Side note: My ultimate dork fantasy would be to meet the man of my dreams in a bookstore, in Portland, at Powell's.]

Sisters before Misters? Hardly.

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I hate a lot of things.

I hate that moment when you wake up on a Monday morning, and suddenly realize you were supposed to be at work thirty minutes ago, and now you’re rushing out the door without a shower and coffee. I hate what some people decide to share on facebook. (I don’t really care to see you giving birth.) I hate when others don’t appreciate proper punctuation. I hate that I cannot seem to get rid of this writer’s funk that I’ve caught…for the past eight months.

But, reader, do you know what really has me up in arms? When friends begin romantic relationships. (And yes, I do realize my last post was about my lack of friends, but I do have a few back in Florida!) It’s not because I’m bitter or jealous or hateful that they have a special someone. (I’m, like, so content with my two cats.) It’s irksome because I know what happens next.

I get dumped.

Our friendship is suddenly placed on the back burner. After all, he is the one with the good looks, charming ways, and infectious personality. Why would he not be placed upon a pedestal? I can only give so much to our friendship, so it only makes sense.

But I am not ranting solely about my friends’ behavior. I’m clearly guilty myself of falling off the face of the earth when in a relationship. I decided to stay in Tampa to go to college because of a boyfriend. I missed out on a lot of high school events (not that I truly care now) because of that same boyfriend. I lost contact with quite a few friends because of another boyfriend and when he dumped me, I was alone. And now, I have this fear going into my next relationship that I will be that friend again. I don’t know if it’s possible, but I want to still have my life and him have his. I don’t want to be the annoying couple and have my facebook profile picture album filled with just pictures of him and me. (You all know that couple.)

Yet why does this perpetually happen?

Women seem to be guilty of this act more. Of course I do know of a few men, too. But for some reason we build our world around him. Our Friday night plans will be arranged after we know what he is doing. His friends are now our friends. Our goals and dreams are set aside. (I know we, like, all remember that moment Lauren Conrad chose to live with Jason instead of taking the internship in Paris. Silly girl.) Whereas he is doing the exact same things he did before she came around. His world is built around himself too, not just her. If he initially made plans with his friends, but his girlfriend invited him to do something else, he doesn’t cancel his original plans.

Bravo, men, bravo! You are doing something right.

But inevitably when he does break up with her, she will return to us, her safety blanket. We take her back with open arms. We don’t question where she has been all this time. We aren’t mad or upset with her. Rather, we mend her broken heart, and are just happy to have her back until the next suitor comes along.

The perfect city: It exists, right?

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If you can’t find the perfect man, well, you may as well find the perfect city to live in, right? Especially if you’re a 22-year-old recent grad who wants to escape the wretched state of Florida.

And I did just that. I went searching for it.

Now, normally I refrain from telling people to go look for someone to love. This is a dating no-no because essentially the love of your life will find you when you start doing the things you love (e.g. writing). However, like most rules, there are always exceptions.

Most readers may have (or not) been aware of my recent journey to the west coast in pursuit of goal number nine. (My reasoning behind my writing hiatus.) Namely because I enjoyed boasting (on facebook) to my east-coast friends that I was far, far away living three hours behind all of them. I am sure most readers facebook friends will also be glad the moment I stop counting down the days of getting the heck out of Florida.

I like to think that when most little girls were dreaming of their wedding, I had been romanticizing the day of leaving, and living in a new city where I knew absolutely no one. After all, it’s what you do as an adult, right? You go to school, you graduate, and you leave the state nest. That’s not the case for the people who live in a life of security. Fortunately, I am not one of them. My mom says I was blessed with the gypsy gene. I thank her for it.

I was quite certain that the city to complement 22-year-old Jamie was over there, whether it be San Francisco, Seattle, Los Angeles, or Portland. I knew it was where I wanted to be: on the west coast and as far away from Florida as possible. It’s a difficult decision figuring out where one wants to call home. What is a home anyway? The home I have come to known is boring, dull, and monotonous. I have become comfortable. It is my security blanket. It is being with someone because you don’t think you deserve better. Oh, you do. It’s settling in a rut. And it’s not what anyone at 22 should be doing. I do know that home shouldn’t be a place I call wretched or talk shit about right in front of it, but I do. Rather, it should be a place I want to show off. It should be a place where I am proud to call it my home. You know, quite similar to showing off that Mr. Almost Right on your arm.

So, how does one come up with the qualifications for a city to win a heart? Simple. It’s just like my figuring out what the qualifications of Mr. Almost Right would be.

  • It needs to be a blue city. Preferably a blue state, altogether. I’m a liberal stuck in a conservative state. HELP!
  • I’m tired of the humidity and the heat. The city must welcome other temperatures other than “Today is hot. I hope you don’t melt.”
  • Are cars dependent? Yes? Really? This probably means the public transit sucks and the city is terribly spread out. I want it to feel as close as possible to living in Europe (ha!) while living right here in the States. I want to spend less money on gasoline and have my new diet regime consist of living in a walkable city. That way, my city will never leave me for getting fat. (Or that Mr. Almost Right.)
  • The average age and IQ should not, I repeat NOT, be 75.  Plain and simple!
  • Our values should be the same. I’m not religious, so I would like to stay away from the Bible belt.
  • Also, I believe spending time with good company is more important than working in an office for eight hours a day. I don’t think making the most money equates to being successful. Which kind of also means, I hate big corporations and I would rather support a local business. Which also, ALSO means I don’t want to live where chain-restaurants align the streets.
  • I like to think I am creative. Naturally, I want to live in an artsy city. I need inspiration!
  • Okay, I know this is really shallow, BUT I want to live in a pretty city. Florida is just plain ugly (and flat), and I cannot take it any longer. Give me mountains!
  • I don’t want to be within driving distance just to the beach. I don’t like the beach. Give me mountains!
  • Last, but not least, I want my new city to make me feel like this. You know, like a bunch of hippies dancing.

I knew I would find it here. It hit me when I was inside strolling through the world’s largest independent book store, when I was deciding what to eat amongst the city block of food-carts, when I was being serenaded to on the streets by a guy from Boise looking for a few extra dollars, when I was taking in all the green landscape (Oh, and there IS a mountain), and when I was getting around the city without a car.

My mom said I would just know, and sure enough as I was people watching alongside the Willamette River I knew this was where I wanted to be. I wanted this to be my home, for now. I wanted this to be the place to show-off to my east-coast friends: See? It’s possible! You really can leave Florida. Do it while you still can! Do it before Rick Scott ruins this place! Now! Hurry!

Although I’m sad to leave my mom, I’m so, so, SO ready to leave this place. And I am. Today.

Adieu, Tampa.
Bonjour, Portland.

Breaking up is hard to do

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I had to do it.

I had to do it if I wanted to pursue my goals, explore my dreams, and discover my identity.

It took days to mentally prepare myself what to say. I rehearsed it in my head. I rehearsed it to my mother. I rehearsed it while looking in the mirror. I didn’t want to look too ecstatic, but I didn’t want to have a lack of facial expression. I finally nailed it after the thirty-second time.

I broke up with my job. Yes, the job I ranted about in my last post. Yes, the job I have been seeing for the past nine months that no longer makes me happy. I told my boss that although it has been a great experience, I am ready to start my career (whatever that may be) and move to the west coast. Fortunately, she took it extremely well and I was finally able to breathe. I was free.

Life lessons# 34: Breaking up is hard to do. I can see why so many people will stay in their miserable relationships for years. I have never had to tell someone that although I love them, I am no longer in love with them.

But I certainly have been told it.

Jamie, I love you. I do. But, I am no longer in love with you.
(Of course, it probably wasn’t that eloquent.)

I tilted my head, much like a dog would do if you asked it, “Treat?” It was hard to roll my head around the idea. Like most women, I had to over-analyze it. If he loves me, why is he sobbing as he tells me this? What does he mean he is no longer “in love” with me? I didn’t get it, so I Googled it.

Okay, I did get it, but I still Googled it.

We were at the point of the relationship where it had gone sour. (I just didn’t want to accept it.) We discussed we needed a break. You know, the infamous break. A break from what? I suppose each other. Even though everyone knows a break is like the prelude to a break up, literally and figuratively. It’s as if he placed me in a storage unit for the time being. He wasn’t quite ready to get rid of me entirely, but didn’t see the use of having me everyday.

Life lessons #54: If you’re placed in a storage unit, get out immediately when you have the opportunity.

Face it: we are all masochists at least one point or another. It does not matter what side of the stick we are on in the relationship, one of us (or possibly both) are suffering. He didn’t want to be the bad guy and break my heart. But I didn’t want to be without him. Fortunately for me, he did it. I even thanked him in an open letter.

Life lessons #86: Breaks up are great for you–emotionally and physically.

Besides on January 1, when has there ever been a time when you wanted to change yourself more? It probably happened right after someone declared that you were no longer lovable in their eyes. I never understood why, or maybe I did, people felt the need to do so. Do we do it to prove to the other person, who deemed us unlovable, that he or she is going to miss out on how extraordinary we really are? Do we do it to fall in love with ourselves again (or for the first time ever)? Perhaps we do it to give ourselves an excuse for a radical and sexy hair change? Like saying adieu to blonde hair. (Best decision ever, by the way.)

I broke up with my job to make my dreams a reality.

In nine days, I am flying to San Francisco, followed by an indefinite stay in Portland. (Oregon? What the hell is in Oregon?! I am pretty sure I am in love already.) I am finally pursuing my goals, living my dreams, and exploring my identity. Although I will be unemployed, have no set plans, and hardly enough money to get by, I have never been more excited. This is the first time in my life where I have felt completely free from all obligations (besides that damn $330 car payment) and not tied down to anything.

Inevitably, all of this means I am breaking up with Florida, as well. I am sure it will take it the hardest to comprehend.

You’re leaving? What do you mean?
(Florida went and Googled it.)

While most people will be stuck in their boring day-to-day routine because they are afraid of failure, of heartbreak, and of being alone, I am about to do what most people wish they could do: step outside their comfort zone.

And despite how hard it is (and was) to break up with the things I have grown accustomed to, I know it will be entirely worth it.

Am I ready to grow up?

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I once had confidence.

I am 22. I am a college graduate with a degree in journalism. This sounds perfectly fine, yes? Wrong. I have graduated with a degree in a field I have absolutely no passion for. Although I enjoy writing, I am not a reporter. I don’t get the journalist high when “getting the story.” I came to realize this during my last semester of college.

Oh, shit.

I thought I had it all planned out. I was going to graduate, move to New York City where I would pay over a thousand dollars to live in a closet, all the while working for a large, corporate Cosmopolitan magazine (Feminist Jamie shakes her head at the thought). I was going to write about everything I write about in this blog, but I would be getting paid.

Oh, shit. My life is hardly that. Four-year-old Jamie would be terribly disappointed.

“What do you mean you still live at home?! You don’t have a boyfriend, either?! But you’re supposed to be doing big girl things, like be a country singer or be a veterinarian.”
“Ah.. well.. err…”

Life is funny like that, four-year-old Jamie and I am now just learning it. Life doesn’t like to go according to plan, especially when you have had your whole life mapped out by the time you were fourteen.

I never understood why people went back to school after they just graduated. They had a degree! Go flaunt it! Go hang it on a wall! Go get that career!

I was silently judging them. (Outwardly, my facial expression revealed all.) I was envious they were already done with school, but at the same time, confused to why they were going back. Why weren’t they like me? I couldn’t wait to start my career. I couldn’t wait to prove to people (an employer) I really was a good writer. (Hire me!) I couldn’t wait to move out of Florida into my efficiency (that’s a nice word for “it’s miniscule and you will be lucky if you can fit two whole people in it”) New York City apartment.

Yet, I am one of them. The post-college graduate not quite ready to be an adult, and is contemplating on going back to school. (After all, it’s where I am used to being at.) I have entertained jobs that don’t require a degree: a flight attendant. (Okay, so I really just liked the idea of traveling to foreign countries for free.) I thought (and am still thinking) about somehow becoming a digital nomad. I have even considered joining a gypsy community. No, really.

I am not where I thought I would be at 22: working at a local newspaper at the bottom of the totem pole doing mindless work, and being completely miserable.

As of lately, I am questioning my existence. What is my purpose of being here? What is the purpose of life? To wake up, go to the dead-end job where we earn barely enough money to pay our bills, just to survive? This is life? This is what I couldn’t wait to start? Am I really ready for this? To grow up and be a big girl?

Oh, shit. Ready or not.

When I first met my current job nine months ago, I was instantly smitten. I was finally the go-getter and knocking politely at the door which would lead me to the field I wanted to pursue: journalism. (Or so I thought.) After all, it was an office job, and when your resume consists namely of retail and restaurants, this is hitting it big. I could finally wear those adorable pencil skirts and high heels. I could finally stop ranting about how much I hate working with the public. This was it.

It didn’t take long to fall in love. Nor did it take long to fall out of love.

I have reached the point in the relationship with my job where I no longer care. I am miserable, and am only here because I need money to survive. And because I am saving to leave Florida. (I hate you, capitalism.) (I hate you, American Dream Nightmare.)

I am learning that jobs are very much like relationships. They can be rewarding offering such a high that one doesn’t want to come down. But on the contrary, they can be entirely exhausting. They can be short-term. (Keeping one’s options open.) Or, they can be long-term. (Tying the knot.) Each member in the relationship must work hard in order to remain happy with one another. And if someone isn’t happy, a breakup occurs.

It’s not as if my current job is difficult. It’s quite simple actually. Perhaps that’s the problem: it’s not fulfilling. It’s boring. It’s not rewarding whatsoever. I am not intellectually stimulated. In other words, I am dating the guy who is just there to pass time, even though I deserve someone really spectacular. (I have a college degree! I deserve my own office! So I can hang it on the wall!) I am more than just a copy aficionado. I am more than just the girl who transfers calls to the correct department. I am more than just a coffee fetcher for the higher-ups.

But I am 22.

I feel that I am still young! I couldn’t fathom the idea of marriage or having children right now. How can I fathom the idea of settling into a career then? Isn’t this just as serious as making any other commitment? One must be sure! Are my expectations just as high as finding Mr. Almost Right when it comes to landing the career? Maybe.

I suppose it’s the same theory when it comes to finding the aforementioned Mr. Almost Right: you have to work a lot of shitty jobs until you find the right one for you. The secret? (I think) Figuring out what you love doing (for free), and then finding someone who is willing to pay you.

That’s the hard part.