Farewell Dating Blog, It’s Been Real

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Y’all, it’s *so* much easier to joke about being bad at dating than it is to actually to date. In all honesty, I’m just a girl with a lot of scars and a bitter taste in my mouth. If I were to throw down my cards, it would be a hand flush with distrust and self doubt cloaked in sarcasm. WHO WOULDN’T WANT TO DATE THAT, am I right?!

It’s about time I stop using this blog (and everything else in my life) as an excuse for avoiding love, dating, and all that big, bad relationship stuff. “I hate dating” loosely translates to, “I’m terrified of vulnerability.” Brene Brown should be my personal life coach.

And seeing as L is madly, truly, deeply in love and I’m going on a warpath against my bag o’ issues, it’s time to retire this precious blog that has served us so well for over a year. For those that are curious, my current status: single. Yes, I’m still calling on my on-demand boyfriend, flirting with the young coffee boyfriends, thinking inappropriate thoughts about men in relationships, and the latest news? My first boyfriend from high school is most likely going to be my new roommate.

Turns out I am worthy of love and I’m going to try my darndest to trust men again. I just got back from a trip to the desert with my best friend, burning sage and getting lost in red rocks. I’m using that trip as the catalyst to act like the nearly 30 something person that I am. Southern Utah… It changes lives.

Searching for GIFs to match my angst has been a true pleasure, and I will miss ranting and raving about all things love. Fingers crossed that by letting go of my bitterness and distrust, a handsome, kind, smart, funny, and ambitious man will literally drop from the sky.

Here’s to love, life, and potentially finding a man to share my heart with.


A little over a year ago, C “talked me into” starting this dating blog. By “talked me into” I of course mean she said something along the lines of “hey let’s do something silly” which I of course immediately YASSSSSSSed my way into.


We started out strong, attempting to date semi-regularly and putting ourselves out there. There were moments of pause for both of us because life gets busy, careers come first, and our dogs are better than most people. But then we both faded. Me, because I met someone, and C because… well you just read her update.


When people had asked me early on what would happen to this blog if I met someone, I had fully planned on continuing to write. Plus, real talk, I didn’t foresee myself meeting someone. Once Right Swiped myway into the wonderful life I’m building with Steve Martin, I tried to continue writing with semi-regularity… doing the whole introducing and documenting a few wonderful firsts thing. But as our relationship has continued (LOOK MA, 6 MONTHS!), it’s proven more difficult to write about him and us. I brag about him all the time on social media, so it felt a little excessive to pour out paragraph after paragraph about him here as well. We’re grossly happy, and well, no one wants to read paragraph after paragraph about that. If you do, that’s what Nicholas Sparks is for, yo!


So, this is my official sign off from this here dating blog.  While I don’t know exactly what my next project will be, don’t worry, I promise it won’t be mommy blogging.


Owning My Trainwreck

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It’s been nearly a month since my last update, which means that Steve Martin and I are about to cross the three month mark. While I went into this blog project with C hoping to meet someone after essentially a decade of singleness, I wasn’t expecting to actually land a mega-babe and experience what is without a doubt my first partnership with a man. This is the first time in who knows how long that I can’t see an end-date or something that would make me cut and run. You might assume that in and of itself would make me want to cut and run, but it doesn’t. That being said, it isn’t all roses and it almost entirely has to do with my isms and deep dark fears, most of which came spilling out on a sidewalk of sobbing the other night.


Spoilers about Trainwreck ahead – consider yourselves warned!

Steve Martin and I had tickets to see the first movie in years I’ve seen opening day, Trainwreck, because I was pretty sure it’s the first and only movie that’s ever featured a character I could really, truly relate to. Sure, Nora Ephron has written some knockouts and I love so many rom com babes, but there’s just something about the way Amy Schumer owns her life and body and choices that makes me want to drink white wine and say “yassssss queen.” I had a hunch on the way it all would play out would be all too familiar (based on the trailer and articles I gobbled up prior to its release), but I wasn’t expecting it to hit so shockingly close to home that I erupted in tears after exiting the theater.

You guys, I laughed my ass of during this movie. I would go see it again in a heartbeat. But something that happened in it made my skin crawl and made my stomach sink and scared me silly. As you might gather from the premise, Amy’s character has a long history of casual relationships and it’s not a thing that she hides from her love interest in the movie. He seems to embrace it and not really pay it any mind because it has nothing to do with their current relationship. Then, during their first fight, he throws in her face her prior history and a few other “less than desirable” traits.

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It was the last thing I was expecting. I sat there stunned in the theater trying to keep it together as I flashed back to The One Who Got Away hurling those same words and thoughts and feelings at me during our first fight. Before that moment, Amy’s movie boyfriend hadn’t payed her past any mind in the same way that TOWGA hadn’t payed my past any mind. It all came out of the blue as the lowest of low blows.

Since that moment in my life, I’ve made a very deliberate choice to own my history and my experiences and my choices. Any man who gave a shit about “my number” was promptly dismissed from the roster, and any friend who paused before laughing at one of my stories or god forbid tried to scold me had the same fate.


Cut to the movie’s conclusion, with Amy doing a full song and dance (literally) to win the boyfriend back. She was left fighting to prove that she was good enough for him. Yes, you read that right. Are you pissed? I was pissed.


I walked out of the theater and was just overall overwhelmed. It all hit too close to home and left me terrified. Would this be what would happen with Steve Martin? Would he come to resent the many glasses of wine I consume or the many men that make up my dating history? I’ve had a man I thought was perfect point out what he considered my personal flaws and use them against me and against our relationship.

As I completely fell apart into Steve Martin’s chest outlining these thoughts and fears and predictions for our future, he promised this would never be the case for us and for him. My past isn’t something he would ever use against me, and it’s not something he considers when considering me and our relationship. And he wasn’t just saying that to get me to stop crying in public, he was saying it because he actually means it. Weird, I know.

Like I said at the start of this post, I went into this blog project with C hoping to meet someone after essentially a decade of singleness. I wasn’t expecting to actually land a mega-babe and experience what is without a doubt my first partnership with a man. A man who actually and completely loves me because of who I am, not despite who I am.


Baby Steps and Mini-Milestones

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I remember in high school celebrating monthly anniversaries was like a real THING. Couples would brag about each and every milestone, keeping a tally of each time they had flowers delivered during 2nd period. This isn’t high school and I’m 27 not 17 but still, I have a pretty big anniversary coming up in my adult life. Steve Martin and I are about to cross the 2 month mark and it’s embarrassing that I’m even keeping track of that. But there’s a neurotic reason for it, because of course there’s a neurotic reason for it. There’s a neurotic reason for everything in my life.


I had this realization when starting this dating blog with C – I hadn’t had a relationship last past 6 weeks in a shockingly long amount of time. The last time I had something pass the 2 month mark was almost 7 years ago. SEVEN YEARS. We had a different president! I wasn’t legally allowed in bars! Bon Iver was everyone’s favorite sad indie dude!


That relationship left me pretty scarred in a way I didn’t fully admit to myself until recently. While there have been men who I’ve said the nasty little “I love you” phrase to since The One Who Got Away left, those men never made it past the 6 week mark for a reason. When I started to feel strongly for Steve Martin, I did a little research. According to this incredibly reputable article I read (kidding, it’s probably trash), it takes roughly 7 weeks to fall in love with someone. What I knew subconsciously all along was proven after a simple google search: I was cutting and running before I got too far in over my head.


I’ll let you in on a little secret: I’m a control freak. I know, I know – shocking. With each man I’ve dated over the last few years, the relationship dissolved because I didn’t ever want to risk being as hurt, wrecked, and generally unlike myself as I was circa 2008. I’m good at being alone, I’m not good at being a weeping pile of human garbage. Option A is much more desirable than Option B clearly. I’m not a pretty crier for starters although I am very much a fan of angsty breakup music.


I’m not celebrating 2 months going strong with Steve Martin in some big stupid way, I’m a grown ass woman despite my love of teenage drama’s from ABC Family after all. But it’s nice to have tracked down a man who I love and who is a real partner through my all too numerous neurosis. He doesn’t seem to mind that I have no idea what to do when it comes to relationships or Batman video games. I hear that all this is worth the risk so we’ll see if you were all lying to me over the years or what.


Bragging Is For Lovers

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A funny thing happened at mine and C’s high school reunion: Instead asking me about my life or my work or the classic “so what are you up to these days,” most people wanted to know about my relationship or to talk about the dating blog. Shoutout to a male classmate who let it be known that he didn’t know I was funny until reading this. Thanks dude, guess that’s the reason you tried to light my hair on fire at a high school football game? Whoa, that got dark for a sec, sorry.


C, the perpetual charmer, got to dodge dating questions by professing she’s single because she hates everyone (which is mostly true because most people are hatable). Me on the other hand, I have no such escape route. I was left stammering about Steve Martin and our relationship and how great he is and it is.


The weird thing about being in a great relationship is my weird inability to talk about it in public.

I wonder if people would read/enjoy this blog if I just used it to document all the adorable shit that comes out of his mouth. Don’t you guys just want to know about the living nightmares C and I willingly take home? Do you really want to hear about how Steve Martin and I have danced in my tiny studio apartment to Foreigner, or how we go on bowling and hot dog dates, or the circumstances under which we exchanged “I love you” for the first time? Did you just puke in your mouth in a little? MY FEAR EXACTLY (that shit tastes terrible and I care about you).


Honestly, I’m way more comfortable talking about the negative things that happen in my dating life because they’re easier to make a joke out of. Loving someone is full of funny silly ridiculous moments too of course, but as I have yet to fart in front of him, they’re less straightforward to write about. The first fart story though is sure to be a doozy.

So while I yammered on about Steve Martin and the status of the blog to the people who brought it up at the reunion, it left me feeling really strange. Bragging about the unbelievably healthy partnership I’ve found just feels too good to be true. Some days he feels too good to be true. As someone who has lived a perpetual glass half empty keep your expectations low so you never get hurt if you can laugh through it you can live through it overall worst case scenario lifestyle, I don’t really know how to express this happiness stuff. But I’m working on it.


L is Listed as in a Relationship with Steve Martin

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Last week Steve Martin did something that threw me totally off guard. I didn’t think he was this type of guy. I would have appreciated him noting this on his Tinder profile. He called me and the first words out of his mouth were “you’re either going to be really mad or you’re going to be really happy” which obviously  I thought meant he’d done something like bought me a donut. But no, I immediately noticed a flood of notifications appear on my oh-so-cracked iPhone. Steve Martin had gone and done it: He’d made it Facebook official.


I’d mentioned in a previous post that we had had the “Define the Relationship” conversation pretty early on, so I don’t know why this left me so surprised. Maybe it’s just because in the past with other men there had always been a discussion around it. Usually led by me because in my late teens/early twenties it *mattered*. Can we all audibly groan at the thought of that being a thing that matters?


I first posted a picture of Steve Martin and myself together, smiling like daft morons, 2 weeks into meeting him. It wasn’t calculated, and it wasn’t a pre approved conversation. I knew he wouldn’t mind because, weird, he wasn’t hiding me or us. It was our social media coming out party, and it felt nice. That’s why, while it surprised me that he’d gone so public, it wasn’t something that I minded. It was his version of shouting it from the rooftops (which yes, I know is adorable and ugh he’s such a good catch).


A result of the title change was that a lot of friends had questions about the status of the blog so I thought I’d give an upfront post to fill y’all in. As this is my first relationship in a while I feel like there’s obviously something to write about – meeting his friends, breaking down my walls, the first fight we have, documenting how happy I am, etc. So even though it’s Facebook official and I’m no longer swiping left, I hope you’ll keep reading my reluctant confessions because I have no idea what I’m doing. But I’m having a lot of fun with Steve Martin – and without giving away too much too soon, this might be the best relationship I’ve ever been in. Not that there’s a lot to compare it to but still…

Less Syllables, Less Problems?

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After dating for less than a week, Steve Martin looked at me and asked if I’d mind if he considered me his girlfriend. This was a few weeks ago, and we have yet to burst into flames which yes is surprising to everyone involved. Here’s the thing: This conversation is one that is terrifying to most new couples and one I’ve seen (and experienced of course) prolonged and avoided for months. The reason? I think it has something to do with being afraid of vulnerability and the weird pressure that comes along with “making it official.”

I said yes to Steve Martin’s request for 3 reasons:

  1. I’m crazy about him
  2. I had (and obviously still have) no intention of seeing other people
  3. “Boyfriend” is less syllables than “The guy I’m dating”


The first few days after we had the conversation, I was a bit terrified and slightly (very) miffed. How could it have been this easy? What did I do right this time that I’d done wrong before? Did we have the dreaded “define the relationship” talk too soon (DTR for all you noobs out there)? Would he regret it? Would I regret it?

Here are the answers I’ve come up with so far.

It was this easy because it just was. He thinks my brain is sexy and values my opinion. Meanwhile holding his hand while he tries to explain why Mike Patton is the greatest is my new favorite thing. There’s almost zero anxiety, and no question as to where we stand and what we think about one another.


I know I know, I shouldn’t measure relationships against previous relationships. But I do it, we all do it. I have quite obviously a long string of failed relationships – truth be told in the last nearly 7 years I haven’t had anything last longer than 6 weeks. So, in response to “what did I do right this time that I’d done wrong before” I don’t have any idea. I do know that Steve Martin is different than any man I’ve ever been with, so maybe that’s why this seems to be working out so well thus far. Working outside my type might be working for me?

As for timeline, yeah him asking me after a week was totally unexpected. Agreeing to be in a relationship wasn’t the hard part though, that was a no brainer. It was however difficult to tell those closest to me. I have a wonderful support system, but I was frankly nervous to tell them. Would theY write this off, or tell me I was rushing into something too soon, or would they get too excited and start planning our wedding? Honestly some of those things happened, but I was expecting them to. The further we get into this though, the more glad I get that we just let the conversation develop when it did. It wasn’t calculated and it wasn’t planned, and isn’t that the way things should develop? I didn’t plan to meet Steve Martin but we both swiped right and here we are – taking it one day at a time, together.

I can’t answer if he regrets it, but it doesn’t seem that way. As for if I’ll regret it, it doesn’t seem that way.


And no, we’re not Facebook official ugh you people…


In Case You Were Wondering…

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If we were to meet for happy hour and you were to ask about my romantic life, I would smile, fidget with my drink, and say “well, yeah, there’s this guy… and I’m crazy about him.” Then I’d proceed to rattle on about how he’s probably the funniest man I’ve ever met, and how his mind is so creative + so riveting that I want to crawl inside of it to wiggle around for a bit, and how at home I feel in my skin when he’s around. What would then happen next is either you would vomit or you would squeal. Not real sure which would make me more uncomfortable to be honest.


I’ve met someone. Someone I’ve told my best friends and ugh even my mother about. Someone who I like a whole lot and who likes me a whole lot – so far. We’re the assholes who kiss at crosswalks and hold hands at restaurants across the table and on the nights we aren’t together end up talking on the phone for hours. It’s disgusting. I’m mortified. But not really because if you saw this guy you’d be like “damn L, good work.” It’s still early – but we’re very conscious and candid about what we’re doing and how we’re doing it.


Keeping things to myself just isn’t my style, which obviously works in this whole dating-blog situation. Sure there are things I’d prefer very few people knew about because some things are more personal and more private and should be kept as such, but most of the time I like to put my thoughts and feelings and all-to-often mishaps into the daily sphere.


As you all know clearly if you’re read any of this blog, when I meet a man I have been prone to writing about him very quickly. A close friend of mine with great intentions once asked if doing that was such a good idea. If I was worried about it being the kiss of death or whether I was concerned they’d think I was a nutjob. Sure of course the thought had crossed my mind, but I concluded before post 1 of this blog that not doing something because I was worried about a hypothetical dude getting scared off was just plain dumb. I do what I want when I want, and frankly if the blog was a dealbreaker for a dude, that in and of itself should be and is a dealbreaker for me.


Let me get to the point here: I’ve never had a problem writing about a man I’m dating before for any reason whatsoever, and here I am, completely and totally crazy about someone and I’m holding it a little tight to the chest for the time being. Partially because if it implodes in the very near future, I don’t want to look/feel like a total idiot. But that’s another blog post all together! Anyway, I’ve owed an update on the state of my dates. Consider this your intro to Steve Martin for now, and I assure you – there’ll be more to tell soon.


Things Not To Say To Your Single Friend

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“It’ll happen when you stop looking”

This is probably the most condescending thing you can say to someone who is single. Honestly the next person who says this to me is going to get signed up for so many daily spam emails (the meanest thing I can imagine doing to someone). Sure, you met your SO when you were eating an ice cream cone while waltzing down the boardwalk and he complimented your Sandals and it was SO UNEXPECTED or someshit. I don’t know, but whatever magic moment that you weren’t expecting to happen or *seeking out* – your story has nothing to do with mine. How your life played out has nothing to do with mine. And what’s more, you feeding me this cliche line most likely cames from wanting to offer advice – whether or not I asked for advice or even your opinion in the first place. Hint: I probably didn’t.


“You’re so great, how does every guy not want to date you?”

Oh how many times have I heard this from male friends who I used to make out with at one time. Or girlfriends who have given up on keeping track of who I’m dating at any given moment. There are probably many men who would want to date me, and just as many who think “hard pass.” That’s fine. This statement is one that’s just troublesome because it’s meant as a compliment but really it’s just like, well, no shit. I’m great. I know that, you know that, we’re friends so clearly you think that. Thanks for pointing it out? Now what? Can we get some pie?

“If you lost even a little bit of weight, you’d be out of my league”

I had a guy who was recently trying to sleep with me say this. Like, word for word. I can show you the message. This is another “oh, you’re trying to compliment me” moments that just left me fuming. So, you think I’m attractive despite how weigh. Well aren’t you a fucking sweetheart. Tell you what, I am out of your league “even though” I’m a size 12. Go have fun with your hand.


“Are you even the marrying type?”

Like, what does this even mean?


“I don’t know how you do it, I couldn’t be single”

Then don’t. I’m single because I choose to be in the same way you’re in a relationship because you choose to be.

“Why don’t you get off tinder and try meeting someone the old way?”

I get this one all. the. time. And again, the person inquiring doesn’t mean it to be condescending, but hey guess what, they are being just that. I have met guys I’ve dated “the old fashioned way” IE at a bar or a networking event or a coffee shop. But I’m also realistic and pretty practical: I actually like getting some of the small talk out of the way before I give up an evening. I have made the decision to put my profile picture out there on the internet for men to swipe. Don’t judge me for my decision just because it’s not the same one you’d make. It doesn’t make my dating life or relationships any less valuable than yours with that dude you met on the god damn boardwalk or your sister’s wedding. Let me live!


“You must get so many free drinks!”

I also pay for so many drinks because one should never assume that the man will pay. Will I accept a drink or three? Yes, but I will just as quickly offer up my shiny blue debit card to buy us a round.


“So are you seeing anyone special?”

No grandma, still no.

Hey, Keep Your D Off My Back

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I think every woman and maybe some men at some point has an experience like one I had recently. Everything is as they say “hunky dory,” and then wham, there’s a dick on your back. You can feel it pressed up against you and you’re not sure if it’s intentional or not and then it’s obvious that it’s totally intentional. It’s disgusting and unwelcome and flat out startling. Or at least that’s what it was to me.

Last week I had the pleasure of taking a trip to the very lovely city on the bay. If you read this blog slash know me, you know I have a thing for music. I figured what better way to spend a night than by checking out one of my wish list venues which just happened to be hosting one of my favorite musicians. It was lovely wonderful fate!

When I got to the venue to meet the Craigslist seller, he kindly knocked off $10 from the ticket and it was such a great surprise. Someone being kind, weird! I made my way up to the bar and found myself in line for a beer next to him, and we got to talking about music and the bay area and my job and his wife. It was very friendly and the sort of exchange that’s so nice to have with strangers. We made our way to the floor for the set, and chatted in-between songs. Friendly. Not at all flirtatious.

Something about me: I dance a bit at shows. I can’t help it and won’t help it – when I feel moved to shake my hips a bit, I go with it. As my favorite song came on and my hips did a little shimmying, I felt him move behind me. And then get closer. As it was a sold out show, I didn’t think anything of it. Then I felt him against me. I didn’t immediately move although I did stop dancing – my mind raced a little… again, it was a sold out show and maybe he was jostled near me. It wasn’t until I felt his hand grip my hip and him very obviously start rocking his body into mine that I knew hey, this guy was pressing himself onto me totally on purpose and I needed to escape immediately.

I turned around and firmly stated: “You’re married” before pulling myself away. I honestly felt so alarmed by his groping hands and other regions that I left the show as quickly as possible. It shouldn’t have taken me saying YOU’RE MARRIED to get him off me. He shouldn’t have been on me in the first place. I wasn’t encouraging that behavior, I wasn’t asking for it. He looked harmless – like a 9th grade science teacher. And there I was, in a strange venue in a strange city feeling honestly scared and very taken advantage of.

I’ve never had this sort of thing happen to me. Sure, I’ve danced with a fair share of inappropriate men, but I’ve never felt groped or out of control of my situation. I know it’s a familiar tale, and mine is mild compared to what can and does happen. It reminded me that as a woman maybe there’s no such thing as friendly, maybe I can’t ever assume someone is harmless. You never know who is going to push it and wind up rubbing themselves against you.

Ladies: Be safe out there. Dudes: Keep your Ds off our backs.


What Love Sounds Like

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Falling in love is sort of a problem for me in that I do it too easily and too often. My teenage years were spent head over heels with floppy haired best friends, punk rock dudes who took their clothes off at shows, and of course the sun kissed polo sporting guys at my annual summer camp. In college I was the queen of flings but specked into the mix were some truly great guys who I fell into weird and wonderful semi-relationships with. As I’ve gotten older there have been moments of “I think this could be an L word moment” only to have me realize it was probably just gas. But like, heart gas. Definitely not a thing BTW and if you think you have it, seek medical attention because, again, it’s definitely not a thing.

I’ve mentioned before I have a tendency to subconsciously couple songs with the people I’m coupled up with. Today while I was chatting with one of my former flames turned favorite friends, he reminded me of a band’s existence and BOOM I time traveled. Because it’s Thursday and I’m a sucker for nostalgia, let’s talk about the songs I’ve hit repeat on while falling in love with some questionable dudes.


First love is a god damn handful. I honestly feel so bad for anyone currently in the throws of their first love, the thought of it is just too stressful! For me it was full of overwhelming emotions that I absolutely did not know how to process, because yes I’ve always been this neurotic. The first guy I ever loved introduced me to this band, United States of Electronica, while sitting in the front seat of his black Jetta eating McDonalds. He also introduced me to the importance of eating my french fries first before they got cold and yes, one Valentine’s Day in college was spent with him eating McNuggets. But back to first loves. This is how it felt the summer before we both went away to college. I’m about to use a word I hate: It felt blissful and like we’d always have this song to dance along to. First love, pfft so naive.


Meeting this guy was a shock to my system. Freshman year of college was a whirlwind of bad decisions, and meeting Boulder was probably the best terrible choice of all them all. I was never (and will never be) “The Hot Girl.” I’m cute and have great eyes and an even better personality. But when this stud would look at me like I was a snack, I felt like I really was. I started to see myself as someone who deserved good things and to be appreciated and who was actually attractive. He basically built the self-esteem machine that I am today. That bubble burst a little (a lot) when I found out he’d spent the summer cheating on me with his high school girlfriend of course. But before that, when he was looking at me with that hunger that only comes from being young and in lusty love, he really did help shove my confidence in the right direction.


The One Who Got Away could have his very own mixtape anthology, but this song is my favorite. When I met this guy and locked it down, I thought to myself “okay, this is it. This is all I need for the rest of my life and wow do I want to have his babies.” I know I know, I said first love was the most naive, but there’s something no one ever tells you: Second love is so much god damn worse. It hits you harder and with way more oomph. By the time you’re in love the second time, you’ve learned (hopefully) a ton about yourself thanks to all your previous failures at dating and romance and relationships. So you go into it with all this hope and not a lot of fear because this time it’s different. I’ve done this before, I know what it looks like and THIS IS BETTER.

One night after a party on an unusually warm winterish night, TOWGA and I were walking home slightly buzzed from the cheap beer. This song popped in my head and I started basically skipping while swinging his hands and singing the chorus over and over again because it was obviously the only part of the song I knew. It was one of those young love moments that should really be in a movie because the way he was looking at me with his slightly-embarrassed half grin is the sort of thing John Hughes built an empire around.


If you’ve never had the opportunity of dating someone who you can laugh with during “intimate” moments or try new things with or embarrass yourself in front of, you haven’t truly lived. Just about all my favorite, funniest, most outrageous stories from college involve Effy, one of my on again off again flings/friends. I wasn’t ever outright in love with him, but my love for him and of him knows no bounds. When I was in the middle of a personal nightmare, he was the person I called because I knew he’d make me laugh with that sick sense of humor he cracks. To me, loving Effy will always make me think of Daft Punk. Pre Pharell FTR. Our second “date” was going to a party together and dancing until we were dripping with sweat to this weird laser band I’d never heard of. Later that night, my best friend and I found a bathroom full of KITTENS. Life with Effy was full of surprises and laughter, I’m lucky to have been given the opportunity to love him.


Neither of us wanted a relationship. Neither of us wanted to or were capable of being vulnerable. But somehow I ended up very much in love with this tall, handsome, incredible man. The end of college is a tricky time to get involved with someone, let alone secretly fall in love with them. I tried to play it aloof and cool and be unfazed when he told me he’d met someone else. When literally everything went to shit and huge life things blew up between us, he still never knew my internal monologue of “you’re not in love with him, absolutely not, stop it now.” But before all that, when we would be together listening to unexpected sultry RnB of all things, eating pizza and playing cards in his kitchen, he and our self proclaimed “semi-relationship” was pretty perfect.


I said before that I try to never give a shitty guy a good song. Love and the music that comes along with those feelings isn’t completely in your control though, and I accept that. It’s been years since I was in love in a big, substantial way and I’m in literally zero rush to deal with those overwhelming feelings again. But to me, the men I’ve loved (and who might’ve loved me back, for a second) are deserving of their spot in my life’s playlist.