Blog Archives

Things As They Seem (part II).

[Continued from Part I...]

Suzy and Sam, first picture as a married couple.

Suzy and Sam, first picture as a married couple.

About a week later, Jay and I had plans to attend a birthday outing on a party bus with a group of my friends. As I was getting ready, he sent me a text message saying I had actually already met this girl he’d “gone out with” as she was in my office one day.

Let me think. Not to be a total bitch, but yes, I saw someone in my office who said she knew me because she saw one of my blogging presentations. Cool, I told her. I had no clue what her name was, nor did I recall seeing her in the audience because there was 100 people there and it was a year beforehand, nor did she say, HEY, I’M FUCKING YOUR FRIEND JAY.

But, maybe I’m just an idiot and/or Jay’s girlfriend should get off my status.

Before he (secretly) started seeing someone, he was planning on staying at my apartment that night, instead of driving home, across town. But after I told him I was over the funny shit, he said he wasn’t going to drink much so that he could drive himself home.

Whatever.

We met up to get on the party bus, me wearing my awesome sequined shorts (get the scoop here), and we make it through one bar before Jay starts giving me the talk about how much he “loves” me and always wants me in his life in some form or fashion.

Then, he kissed me. And again. And a lot. This was on January 18, but whose keeping track, anyway? Girlfriend who? What? I don’t know.

We get to the 4th bar on the party bus, Lock and Key, where he was apparently with his secret girlfriend the night before. There, he tells me how great and awesome I am.

“You keep saying I’m awesome,” I said. “But not awesome enough for YOU.”

I got on the bus, and that was that. We ended up at my favorite guilty pleasure, The Cadillac, where I made a fool of myself attempting to do the Cupid Shuffle.

We stumbled off the bus near my apartment, and he came upstairs to sleep over.

When I awoke the next morning to go to brunch, there he was, under the covers, his shoulders bare. I was still completely dressed.

I woke him up, recapped the night, we laughed, he still failed to mention any girlfriend, and so I kissed him goodbye and headed to brunch.

Maybe he really wasn’t dating anyone, I thought.

I told a fellow blogger at brunch about the situation. She told me it was shady and that I needed to stand my ground. Hmm…

During the next few weeks, I started seeing photos of him and girlfriend (or at least I assumed) on Facebook, but whenever I would ask him what he was up to, he would cooly not mention girlfriend.

I decided to just lay low. Our friendship was doomed. But despite being upset, I had already agreed that I would be a guest on Jay’s video podcast to talk about Valentine’s Day survival tips for singletons.

So, I put on my happy face, chugged a glass of wine, and the show started recording. During the live show, Jay’s cohost mentioned Jay’s girlfriend and how much sex they were going to have on February 14.

Smile. Smile. Smile, I told myself. My teeth clenched. Before the show started, he had told me not to mention us hooking up.

I kept quiet and kept my cool, but girlfriend was angry—or that is what I gathered from the amount of text messages blowing up Jay’s phone. I could also see the texts popping up on the iPad screen from which we were recording.

After lots and lots of typing on Jay’s part, I saw it:

“Baby, you’re fine. I love you.”

They were already saying “I love you”? We had messed around just a few weeks prior. I am no mathematician, but that usually doesn’t happen in two weeks.

I hadn’t been placed in any type of friend zone. I had been played like a fucking fool. My mind took me back to that night downtown, when he cheated on his last girlfriend.

I finished my wine and said I needed to leave, dialing my friend’s number as soon as his front door shut.

I needed answers, so I went to a mutual friend and asked him for the scoop. We compared calendars, and his jaw dropped when I pointed to the dates we’d been together. He confirmed there was overlap. I knew I shouldn’t have been surprised, but I was.

This was someone I thought was my friend.

I waited weeks to say anything to Jay, because I knew what would happen when I did. He would try to save face, say that everything I was upset over was untrue, and that I was simply jealous of  girlfriend.

That’s exactly what happened, only Jay added insult to injury when he said, “I’m sorry you disagree.”

Well, you know what? I’m sorry that I don’t accept backhanded apologies. I’m sorry that I deserve friends who don’t lie to me. I am sorry that you should have done the correct thing, and introduced me to your girlfriend, because that is what people do when they fall in love.

I’m sorry that you feel like you need two chicks at once. I’m sorry you took advantage of me. I’m sorry that I fell for you. And I’m sorry that I’m not sorry for not giving a bucket of fucks any longer.

My heart is on the mend, but I’m glad that this isn’t an issue I have to deal with any longer. Sometimes, things really are what they seem. The thing is, we often don’t want to admit what’s true, especially if that means a friend is actually okay with hurting your heart.

I admit we knew we’d get in trouble. That part’s true. We knew people would be worried, and we still ran away, anyway. But something also happened, which we didn’t do on purpose. When we first met each other, something happened to us.

—Sam, Moonrise Kingdom

Collaboration With Dig Magazine!

Designed by Melissa Renee Rushing.

Designed by Melissa Renee Rushing.

I am so, so happy to finally (I’ve kept quiet for a week) announce my collaboration with Dig Magazine, Baton Rouge’s alt-weekly.

While I have written articles for Dig before, my new project is dear to my heart, as I’ll be writing a fresh column each week, based on my adventures in dating—very similar to what I share with you here.

Even though this blog has been around since 2010, I am honored that my favorite city publication is printing my opinions, and sharing my blog with everyone in its (30,000) circulation.

So, if you’re new here because you saw the column (also called The Bitter Lemon)—which debuted today—in Dig Magazine, a big, fat, HOWDY! I am thrilled beyond belief to share my world with you, even though it’s not always pretty.

I hope you’ll join me on another journey of mine, with Dig. Comment, Tweet me, let’s chat! I’d love to hear from you.

You can find the column in the pages of Dig (find an issue here), or you can read it online, too (right here).

I also want to mention that my friend, and f*cking awesome poet, Leslie D. Rose, is the one who took my headshot for the column. If you ever need photographs taken, give her a shout!

Thank you, once again, for reading my words. I look forward to writing for Y’ALL—new and old.

Pic of the Week.

Angela, me, Charlotte, Sheena, and Ryan Gosling.

Angela, me, Charlotte, Sheena, and Ryan Gosling.

Last week, I was so lucky to have my best friends—Angela and Sheena—in town from Indiana. The two of them were deep in winter depression (I’m really believing that’s a thing) and drove the 12 hours South to get to Baton Rouge.

While the two of them have visited me several times before, they’d never been here at the same time. The three of us, along with some of my in-town friends, had a blast! We had lots and lots of drinks, went to brunch at Mason’s Grill, traveled to the Abita Brew Pub, played hours of Bullshit and Apples to Apples, indulged in Zippy’s 44-ounce margaritas, went to Les Bon Temps for the Eclectic Truth Poetry Slam, and watched the finale of The Bachelor together.

We also celebrated Sheena’s birthday, which is March 25, by having a homemade dinner, drinks (duh), a strawberry-creamcheese king cake, and gifts—enter: Ryan Gosling. Okay, so it’s the Ryan Gosling in paper doll form, but it’s pretty legit, if you’re into that kind of thing.

Take Ryan Gosling with you...EVERYWHERE.

Take Ryan Gosling with you…EVERYWHERE.

Sheena and Angela were also in town on the night of my last blog class for the semester. As a treat for my students, I asked local blogger Charlotte Tryforos of Living Well On The Cheap to come speak.

While I had never met Charlotte in-person, I felt like we were friends because I’ve been following her blog for awhile. Funny story, actually: a coworker of mine asked me if I read her blog, and I said no, but checked it out, and loved it. Then I read that she lived right here in Baton Rouge!

Double-sweetness.

I don’t have many friends who blog, so it was a delight to meet and talk to her face-to-face. and then I got to hear how she started blogging, and how she maintains her (awesome) blog.

Preach.

Preach.

I had such a great time with my friends, and I was sad to see them drive away. I usually only get to see them once or twice each year, since we live so far apart from each other. However, these two women are ones I’ve known since 6th grade, and as time has taught us, nearly nothing can pull us apart.

Sometimes I wish we all lived in the same city so my life could be like last weekend all of the time—when I’m with them, I feel like my other worries disappear. I feel supported. But I know we are where we are for a reason, even if it’s just for the simple fact that our annual visits are more appreciated.

When Enough is Enough.

Sometimes, you've just got to face the facts.

Sometimes, you’ve just got to face the facts.

During my final semester in college, I quit my retail job and went to work as a bartender—something that was on my bucket list. As a foodie, I wanted to learn how to craft and serve some of the best cocktails in town.

While the hours were rough and the work was difficult, it was a really fun job. I wanted to be the bartender I would like if I were on the other side of the bar: fast and correct. Friendly? I’m not concerned about it. Flirty? Don’t waste your time.

However, many of my managers in the service industry disagreed with me—they wanted me to be flirty, fun, and friendly.

But here’s the problem with that: people don’t get it. In my few attempts at being smiley toward my regular customers, they would ask for my number, ask me on dates—none of which I was comfortable with.

So now we have the oh-so-fun awkward situation. Because they still come into the bar, they still want to talk, and they want to know why you didn’t reply their 37 text messages.

Over the years, I’ve learned that being kind isn’t always the answer. In fact, it often gets me into more trouble than how I started.

I do not consider myself a public figure. However, I’ve put myself out there as a relationship columnist, a radio personality; I have a very personal yet public blog, three books, I perform personal poetry at a public venue, and I recently accepted another job that will put my words in front of a new, public audience (details next week)—most of the time, it’s easy.

But there are times when readers and/or listeners feel like they know me. And hey, I’ve been there (John Mayer, call me!). But, sometimes, enough is enough.

I’ve learned my lesson about being nice—it often reads as something different, and makes the situation worse. So, I’m learning to be upfront with people, even if it might sting. I don’t want to waste anyone’s time.

Right now, I’m really focused on my work. By work, I mean this blog, my blog class, my books, my podcast, my poetry, and my upcoming projects. The work I put out is absolutely for everyone to read and listen to, and I don’t want to send the wrong message here—I love hearing about anyone and everyone who has related to me.

But please, please don’t take advantage of me. This blog is public so that everyone can have access to my stories. And often, those stories aren’t pretty. I’m not someone that’s quite ready for love. So, don’t push me in a corner; don’t bullshit me, and I won’t bullshit you.

When I say I’m not ready, I mean I’m not fucking ready. When I tell you I’m suffocated, it means go away. When I say there is nothing to discuss, it means leave me alone, please. Enough is enough, and frankly, I’ve had enough.

“Part of being a winner is knowing when enough is enough. Sometimes you have to give up the fight and walk away, and move on to something that’s more productive.”

—Donald Trump

Boyfriend Recipe: Zesty (baked) Chicken Wings.

I never really considered myself as someone who was “into fitness.” That is, until I dated my last boyfriend, who didn’t give a flying fuck about being healthy or fit.

When it came to me needing time away from him to hit the gym, he would get angry. If I told him I was cooking turkey tacos, he groaned, because he didn’t appreciate healthy eats. However, I couldn’t eat his diet of Buffalo Wild Wings and pizza all the time, unless I wanted to be as big as a house.

So I tried to make things he liked to eat, but make them healthier. While my efforts went unnoticed (he was sleeping with a fat girl on the side), I’m happy to share my recipe with you, assuming your boyfriend gives a damn.

I made Bethenny Frankel’s Zesty Baked Chicken Wings from her book, The SkinnyGirl Dish. I nixed the bread crumbs, and they were still delicious, but here’s Bethenny’s recipe:

  • 3 tb olive oil
  • 1 tb dijon mustard
  • Dash of cayenne pepper
  • 1 ts minced garlic
  • 1/2 ts salt
  • 1/2 ts pepper
  • 1 tb lemon juice
  • 1/2 ts lemon zest
  • 16 chicken wings, halved at joint with tips removed
  • 1 c freshly grated parmesan
  • 1 1/2 c whole wheat bread crumbs

Combine the olive oil, mustard, cayenne, garlic, salt, pepper, lemon juice, and zest in a bowl until well-combined. Pour the marinade over the wings in a Ziplock bag and let them sit in the fridge for at least 30 minutes (up to 4 hours).

In a separate bowl, combine the bread crumbs, parmesan, and parsley. When the wings are done marinating, coat them in the breadcrumb mixture and place on a pan. Bake at 425 degrees for about 30 minutes, rotating halfway through.

I made these with baked onion rings, and everything tasted delicious!

 

Pic of the Week.

Blanche always keeps me company.

Blanche always keeps me company.

I can’t believe that I’ve made it until March without having a picture of my cat, Blanche, featured in this weekly spot.

One week from today, my sassy kitty will turn one (yes, I have a gift for her), although I’ve only had her for about eight months. In this short time, she’s become my companion, and has weaseled her way into my work; she was recently featured on the LSU website, and is also on the cover of my book, How I Fell, the print version.

I have been fortunate to have a cat by my side for most of my life. When I was just two years old, my parents took in a litter of kittens, with just one survivor; a calico tortie they named Lucky. Probably against her will, Lucky became my playmate, and the best secret keeper. She was my best, best pal until I was 19.

While I hurt tremendously when Lucky passed away, my family had already added a new cat to our clan. He was a cat I always wished for; a very orange, and very fat, cat that I named Orange Julius after the famous smoothie (hence my Twitter handle).

Julius was Lucky’s opposite—in your face, adventurous, and sometimes annoying. But I loved him all the same, and he moved with me to Louisiana. In July of 2012, Julius wasn’t acting his usual self. And one trip to the vet revealed that cancer had taken over. I said my final goodbyes to my beloved funny guy just a few days later, and even today, I miss him just as much.

I swore I would never get another cat. I had been blessed with two awesome ones and there was no way any other cat could compare. But after a year of being pet-free, I started to miss the company. So, I started looking online (casually) but wasn’t excited when I saw the kitties. My mom assured me I would, “Just know,” when I saw the one that was right.

My first sight of Blanche.

My first sight of Blanche.

A short week later, I came across a local shelter that had posted on Facebook that they had a “Golden Girls Litter,” and all of the kitties were named after characters of the show (Dorothy, Blanche, Rose, Stanley, Miles, and Sophia).

The character of Blanche Devereaux is my favorite on the show (which I love), and the kitty with her name stole my heart. She was even a calico tortie, just like Lucky. And so, after at least a month of back-and-forth with the adoption process (and money, and an interview, and a home-visit), Blanche came to live with me.

Book readers will remember that Blanche was brought into my home at the lowest point of my relationship with D. Some nights would find me curled up on the bathroom floor beside her, as I cried myself to sleep. Blanche licked the tears off my face.

Since then, our house is a much happier place—despite Blanche tearing up nearly everything she can with her very sharp claws. Regardless of how annoying she is, she is always granting me a good morning meow, and is always waiting for me at the front door when I arrive home.

And just last week, she killed her first mosquito. Given that I’m allergic to the little vampires, I’d say that’s a good friend.

While Blanche may resemble Lucky, she is very needy, wanting my attention all the time, just like J-cat did. Unfortunately, I’m not always able to give her what she wants, as I’m usually hunched behind my laptop at night. And so, she has figured out how to be near me even then—wrapping herself around it and slapping at the keys when my fingers move over them.

So, call me a cat lady, but I think I’ve got it pretty good.

Can’t get enough of my cat lady tendencies? Check out my podcast with Model Husband, Ethan Moses, as we dish on our funny cats. 

Survival Guide: Wedding Season.

We are just 17 days away from the first day of spring. Spring means wedding season, and since this is my blog, I can go ahead and say that wedding season, for the most part, sucks.

I just couldn't resist this picture.

I just couldn’t resist this picture by Will Campbell. 

If you are single, perhaps wedding season will find you attending nuptial celebrations solo (because the married couple was too tacky to allow you a “Plus One”). Maybe you’ll be witnessing two people throw themselves into a binding agreement that really isn’t a great idea. Maybe you slept with the groom last week (wait, what, I don’t know, shut up). Maybe you’ll be a bridesmaid, and stuff yourself into a disgusting dress that you’ll sell on eBay in less than 24 hours.

What a joy! And so, I’m here with a little bit of help, or at least I hope so.

  • Make a decision. Just because you were invited to a wedding doesn’t mean you have to go. Sounds mean, but it’s the truth. Same goes for engagement parties, bachelorette bashes, etc. Truthfully, it is improper for the bride and/or groom to invite the same person to more than 3 parties (outside of the wedding), so you can happily decline invitations to this clearly vain couple.
  • If necessary, budget. While you don’t have to attend every party or the wedding, you DO have to send a gift for every invitation you receive (unless it’s more than 3 parties, as mentioned). So, if you’ve got a lot of engaged friends this season, you should create a budget so that wedding gifts don’t cramp your style.
  • Get a hot outfit. Even if the wedding couple is doomed for divorce, watching the whole shebang can be difficult. A few years ago, I was a bridesmaid and there were tears in my eyes during the rehearsal in the chapel because I couldn’t help but think, “Wow, this may never happen for me.” Call me crazy, but a wedding stirs the emotions. So find an outfit that makes you feel confident. Treat yourself to a new piece of jewelry or a cute evening bag. Check out my wedding season wish list (links to products are below):

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

  • Get a good date. No, I don’t mean a guy, necessarily. Take a good friend—someone you can laugh with, and rip up the dance floor with! If you’ve got a stack of invites, maybe this same friend can go to all the weddings with you, then you don’t even have to stress over it.
  • Keep it classy. Smile, be happy for the couple, and have a good time! Have drinks, but don’t get hammered (there will be photo-evidence). And, no matter how hot they are, steer clear of the groomsmen. You don’t want to be THAT girl.

For the most part, my wedding seasons are over. However, I am happily attending a wedding in Chicago this summer as a “Plus One,” so if you’re in the area, hit me up, and let’s drink (cheers for being single)!

My Wedding Season Wish list: OPI Brazil Collection for Spring & Summer 2014Benefit Cosmetics Peek-A-Bright-EyesSteve Madden Marlenee Sandal, Insight Azuro Dress, ELF 3 Piece Lipstain Set, XOXO Long Sleeve Shirt Dress, Heirloom Finds Peach Pink Quartzite Cocktail Ring, Faux Leather Neon Envelope Clutch

Follow

Get every new post delivered to your Inbox.

Join 738 other followers