I got carded on New Year’s Eve while buying a lotto ticket at a bodega. I’m thinking this is going to be a good year. I rarely make resolutions but I’m doing something different this year, so here they are:
- Meatless Mondays – Yep, I’m going all pescatarian maybe vegetarian for one day a week. I need to step my game up when it comes to nutrition. For those of you who don’t know me, I would rather have a steak and mashed potatoes than a slice of the best chocolate cake on earth. I ate no meat or poultry today so I think I can make it.
- More dinner, less take out – I live in New York fucking City, home to a shitload of fantastic Michelin-starred restaurants and I should take advantage of it. I will take advantage of it.
- Update ALL my blogs – I’m not going to lie, I own a plethora of websites. They all need to be revamped, especially this one.
- More maintenance, less laziness – I was never one of those girls who gushed over makeup or shoes. As I got older, I started paying more attention to my clothes, skin and hair. When I do my hair and makeup, and I dress nice, men do notice me…and that leads to…
- I want a boyfriend, dammit. – I have been single for a looooong time. Yes, it’s been two years months since my last relationship, but before that it was five years two years and before that it was seven years five years, so that means I’ve been single for 14 too many years. It’s been long overdue. I’m a nice person with the body of a 24 year old. It shouldn’t be this hard! I’m throwing caution to the wind by giving online dating one last chance. I know, I know, I hate dating websites but I have got to do this by any means necessary.
I moved back to New York on July 29th last year. There have been plenty of ups and downs, too many jobs, more drama and not enough sex. All I can say is that I am sure I have more social, cultural and romantic opportunities here than I did in Miami Beach. In fact, concerning the dating world, I’ve had more action in the year that I have been here than the five years I lived in Florida! So now I’m renting a room with my friend from Miami and in a few months, we’re getting our own apartment. After going back and forth between working in a restaurant kitchen and working as a private chef, I’ve decided that neither of those two options are the right fit for me. I have two interviews scheduled this week and I worked as an extra for a commercial. I don’t feel stifled anymore. I feel like I can do whatever I want, whenever I want with whoever I want. Faith…it’s a good thing.
My Christmas list goes something like this:
- A modest, roach-free apartment on the Upper East Side, the Upper West Side, or eff it, Greenwich Village
- My babies! I miss my cats. Since I’ve been living the hobo life, my boys have been living the luxury life at a kennel. They get treats and fresh water twice a day, and they get brushed. I don’t know if they’ll be happy once I get them back.
- A pair of warm boots. Damn this New York winter…and the rain…and the snow.
- Some longjohns….seriously…I moved from Florida to New York, so yeah, I’m cold.
- A white iPhone 4, please. I know it’s a myth, like the unicorn, or the Jonas Brothers’ virginity. A girl can dream, can’t she?
- Gerard Butler…I know, I’ve mentioned this before but please, if there is a Santa Claus, I’ve been a good girl, and I deserve a bad boy.
After five years of bitching, suffering through horrible dates, and using those awful internet dating sites, I had a boyfriend. It was nice to date someone, get to know someone, actually go out to dinner and a have a conversation with someone. And then he asked me to be his girlfriend. I was elated. My friends freaked out, I couldn’t believe it, and we continued getting comfortable with each other. I would see a couple and be thankful for being in a relationship. Morning sex turned into afternoon sex. In fact, I replaced food with sex. Who does that? I did! We sent text messages or spoke to each other every day. My apartment was a mess and my cats didn’t remember me. And then I did something very bad: I cared about him too much. It took one conversation and we were done. Now I’ve replaced sex with alcohol. My apartment is spotless. My cats are taking me for granted. It’s been a few days and sometimes I regret what I said, maybe it was too soon, but I realize that the same outcome would happen whether it was 3 months, 6 months or a year in the future. I just want to move to Spinsterland, start adopting cats and make my own mumus. I’m done. Over it. Seacrest out.
I’m glad I got through Valentine’s Day, aka V-Day, without stabbing someone. This is the worst excuse to buy a card ever. Can I feel anymore single than on that day? What the fuck with the smug couples who do all this last minute planning? When I was in a relationship, I had all my plans made a month ahead of time. There was none of this calling restaurants on V-Day, or trying to schedule a massage the day before. It’s unbelievable how lazy and stupid couples are, especially men. I know that many people say every day should be Valentine’s Day. That is not fucking true, otherwise ladies would be getting flowers, chocolate and some sort of jewelry every day. Suck it up and make an effort to make the day special. Or you could be like me: snuggle up with a bottle of wine after a long day at work.
I canceled all my dating website subscriptions. Checking them on a regular basis only wasted my time. The quality of candidates went downhill since I joined the first dating website back in 20–*cough cough*. So now I’m doing the opposite. I’m embracing spinsterhood. I do things like watch The View, contemplate purchasing a purse from a tv commercial that has over 50 pockets, and I’m already using public transportation. All I need is a muumuu, some ill-fitting pantyhose and 16 more cats and I will be an old maid.
courtesy of oprah.com
I needed a few weeks to cool off after watching the Oprah show about couples in sex therapy. That show just ruined me. Actually, it was the married couples who made me sick. Why get married if you are going to withhold sex? Then the women complain about not feeling attractive or sexy. I’m sorry, did you find one man who loved you enough to marry you and still want to have sex with you after you let yourself go? Don’t blame the kids, the stress, or the pregnancies. You let yourself go. It pisses me off that I’m a habitual single woman, with a body most women would pay good money for, yet I can’t get a date. But when I find that special someone, I would try to make up for lost time. I would do things like swing from a chandelier, have sex in an elevator and not leave the bedroom for an entire weekend. These women made me physically sick because they don’t know how lucky they are, and again, take their relationships, their husbands, and that entire tray of brownies for granted.