You are funnier than me and I hate you for it: a love story.

One of the books I read on vacation was So Sad Today by Melissa Broder.

I remain faintly annoyed at how good and funny it is, because I didn't write it.

(This is just from one chapter; the whole book isn't lists of "love stories.")

Paging Stuart Smalley

This post started one way, but took a wrong exit to a place in my head I visit sometimes. It usually passes within a day, and then I'm back to at least a marginally normal self-image.

I went on vacation in part to get some perspective, maybe achieve sudden clarity via Southwest Airlines party mix.

I did, but not as much as I'd like.

But I did realize I can't meet this guy I'd been talking to on OkCupid. We'd talked about meeting once I got back, but I realized I'm not feeling a connection, at least not yet. I have pretty good instincts for that, though, so possibly not ever. (This has also happened with two other OKC people.)

I feel bad, but even though That Guy felt nothing for me except my clitoris, that whole debacle helped me remember how I feel when *I* feel a spark with someone, even if it's not mutual. My ex, too -- I felt that in my gut and in my butt, and I'm not feeling it for these OKC people. Whatever the issues, my interactions with That Guy and my ex set a standard for what I need to feel and how I need to be treated.

I know I have to move on eventually. I just don't think I'll be able to, or should, until I feel something more compelling -- I don't need to be in love, I just need to feel a chemistry.

I wondered if I should meet that OKC guy just to interact with a man in a potentially romantic capacity, the way I used to go on job interviews for practice. But I don't want to make anyone my practice. Having BEEN used fairly recently, I can't do it to someone else. (Though I hear it's effective.)

I may still be too damaged for this. I can't tell if I'm really not ready, or just scared.

I already wasn't feeling the best about myself when my ex and I broke up. I asked him why he was even with me, what I'd contributed to our relationship, and why he'd want to have children with me. He explained the kid thing, but wouldn't tell me why he'd been with me. He said I should know. I still don't. I believed he loved me. I believe he still does. I just don't know why. (The best I can come up with is that I let him have his own space and his own time, and never made him watch "The Notebook.")

Following that, That Guy made me feel smart, sexy, and funny...buuut then told me he never really thought any of that. Well, I guess the "sexy" part was true -- as indicators go, his constant erection in my presence was probably a good one. 

When I thought he cared about me, I spent time with him thinking, "Pfft...I'm amazing." He said my confidence showed, that I owned my business in the bedroom, that I was funny and a good writer -- he was one of the reasons I kept writing this blog. And then he was like, "Ha ha, just kidding, you're none of those things."

So I'm not enough to keep one man if I don't want to have a baby, and not enough to keep the other guy because...I guess maybe I'm NOT the person he made me feel like I was.

Plus there have also been professional aspects where I wasn't good enough to do one job or another, and a general feeling with my family that I'm just not worth being heard.

So... I don't know what I'm doing now. I know it's called SELF-esteem, but mine's been knocked around a lot the past few years. I don't know if I've ever considered how deep-seated all this is, and I see the therapist partly because I don't know how to fix it myself. I have friends who, if they're reading it, would punch me in the neck for thinking any of this. I don't ALWAYS feel this way, but when I do, people can tell me whatever good things they want, I just can't see it for myself.

Ahem... Why, what do YOU think about on vacation?

P.S. Next post, I promise, back to OkCupid snark, Valentine's rage, masturbation, and the feminism of bath sponges.

Escape: Plane and Simple

I'm pretty excited to be taking a vacation that requires a plane, and leaving all my bullshit behind -- if only for a week, and if only metaphorically, since my bullshit lives in my brain and actually travels quite well. I checked, though, and there's no fee for emotional baggage on domestic flights. Score! 

It'll still be good to get away, particularly to get away to anywhere warmer than here.

So I'll see y'all soon, assuming more pleasurable climes don't claim me as their own. 

See also: fuck you, winter.

ESPMS

I'm pretty sure I've prayed more to get my period this week, so it's over before my vacation, than I have any time I've had a pregnancy scare. 

*staring at vagina*

Bitch, let's GOOOOO...

California girls, we're undeniable

Last night I dropped off my CA friends at the airport after their Thanksgiving visit, and they extended an open invitation to come stay with them, or even live with them for a bit, whenever I want.

I suddenly have a million urges to get the hell out of here, if only for a week.

I already have an East Coast vacation booked in January, but my spring/summer wanderlust is looking westward.

Maybe Easter. I feel like going to town on a big fuck-off chocolate bunny while lying by a pool. (All the more reason to keep working out throughout winter, so I don't scare small children with all this gelatinous White in a swimsuit.)

And they could probably get me a job if I eventually wanted to relocate permanently. I have exactly four skills, but they travel well.

"I was on the moon...with Steve!"

I just found out my sister's friend is coming along on our "family" vacation, and the way she told me was, "Steve is coming with us if you want anyone to share a room/split costs with. Ahem... :)"

Did my sister just suggest AGAIN that I bang her friend?

I didn't tell this story because it wasn't worth reporting, but I've met the guy -- she tried to set us up a few months ago when he visited from CA. So we had a few drinks and he took me back to his hotel room at 2 a.m. and....talked my fucking ear off about the nature of the universe and my biggest fears until I was half-unconscious. Dude, we JUST met!

I chose to drive home in a pseudo-coma rather than sleep in his extra bed when he offered, just so I wouldn't have to listen to him anymore. (I was still in the Bad Place then, so it was all I could do not to say, "Do you know that if you shut the hell up, you can fuck me senseless and you won't have to call me tomorrow or pretty much ever again?")*

Do you know how much you have to talk for ME to say you talk too much? It's like me fucking telling you fucking swear too fucking much. And also? Fuck.

So no, I will not be sharing a room with Steve. I will require a minimum of 6 hours of alone time each day so as not to murder my family, and now I'd also have to kill Steve, who probably wouldn't stop talking even in death.

*To his credit, even if he HAD known that, he probably wouldn't have, because he's, like, an actual gentleman, even if he does talk too much.