#tb: move on…and be fabulous.
The following was written in 2010; nothing has been changed. Like what you’ve read? Enjoy my #tb (throwback) blog series as I count down the days until my second book, How to Make Lemonade, is released on December 2nd!
DAY 30: MOVE ON…AND BE FABULOUS
Friday, May 21, 2010
It’s finally here! My task today was to make eye-contact with a man, flash a little flirt, and start truly moving on from my ex.
Sounds easy, right? Because it is.
It’s pretty obvious I’ve had my ups and downs throughout this project. However, I’m going to go ahead and say it—I did good. Previous breakups I’ve gone through have been a complete nightmare; we’re talking crying in public, working overtime to avoid downtime, and generally acting like my world is ending.
This time, of course, I shed plenty of tears. But I also did plenty of things for me—I got a great scrub down/massage, I joined a tanning salon & spa so I’m looking tan and fabulous, I read a book I loved, I cleaned out my entire apartment and donated things I don’t need, I got a new DVD player which has resulted in viewing amazing men-bashing flicks and Will & Grace marathons, I have a sexy single gal dress that I love with matching perfume, I’ve reconnected with old friends and made some new ones, I signed up for a wine class, and have even planned a month full of weekend road trips.
Naturally, not all of the tasks I completed were fun or easy—ahem, Day 7 and Day 26. Throwing out an ex’s things is always the moment reality sets in for me. But having to explain the faults of the relationship to the world; wow, that was difficult. However, both of those moments had to happen in order for me to be at the place I am, which is a good one.
When Jake the Asshole dumped sweet Tenley on national TV, she told him she was thankful that he showed her she could love again. I made a comment about using that line the next time I got dumped. Well, I didn’t tell my ex that, because I don’t believe I’m incapable of loving or being loved. Sure, I’ve been through some tough relationships and some even tougher breakups, but my heart is resilient. Shakespeare can sum it up easier than me—”The course of true love never did run smooth.”
Anyway, on Day 30, I wasn’t planning on getting my flirt on until my public party that evening. However, I found myself standing in front of a man who was flirting with ME in the oddest of places—Qdoba.
Day 30 was normal. I had to work, stopped off at the spa for a facial and a quick jump in the tanning bed, and then prep for an evening of drinking and dancing. So I’m at home getting ready, my girlfriends were on their way over for a few rounds of drinks, and I realized I had no food to offer them. This new single routine has me living in an apartment with an empty fridge, which is VERY rare for me. But hey, as Lil Wayne told Katie Couric, “I’m a gangsta, and I do what I want.” So if I want to live off Smart Ones and frozen yogurt, then so be it. But, I refuse to be a bad hostess.
So I made a quick run to Qdoba (I swear their lime rice is laced with crack) for chips and dip. The guy at the register, who I’ve seen many-a-time, started flirting with me. Mind you, I was in my velour pants and tank, hair pulled back, revealing a barely makeup-ed face, and this dude was asking me about my job and when I graduated…I mean damn. Was he cute? Eh, for an older guy (he’s no older than 32). And he works at a Mexican grill. But whatever, I completed my task without even trying! God I am so good!
Anyway, the remainder of the evening was a blast. My girlfriends and I enjoyed a bottle of champagne and some beers before we even hit da club and once we arrived, the party officially began. We were all looking hot—I wore the sluttiest number in my closet, a short gray v-neck dress paired with my cheetah stilettos. Grrr!
So we’re drinking, dancing, and ripping rounds of Jager bombs—the night is a haze. But I do remember getting approached by two guys wearing matching ribbons pinned on their shirts. I made a sassy comment about how they looked gay, to which they said they were coming from a cancer benefit. I then proceed to blow on a whistle this guy had around his neck…only it was not a whistle. It was a clip for a name tag. Classy move, Holly!
Regardless, the guy bought me a few rounds of beers. Turns out, we have mutual friends and I’ll be seeing him at a wedding in a few weeks. Maybe with a few less shots in my stomach, I can be a tad nicer and he’ll be cool. But hey, my options are endless.
I woke up on Day 31, wearing nothing and cursing my alarm for not going off and making me late to work. Until I realized it was Saturday. No work. Apologies to my family, but it has to be said—it’s funny. No worries, I was alone. When I drink, and come home to an empty apartment, it is not uncommon for me to remove my clothing and face plant into my bed. To my future boyfriend, don’t get any ideas here, I don’t strip with every sip of alcohol.
I then began to piece together my night. I came out of my bedroom to see my clothes, purse, jewelry, shoes, and keys at my front door. Awesome. My bar tab receipt was there, too—total: $3. Awesome. My cheetah heels were completely worn; as in, no more cap over the nail in the bottom. Awesome. I even went through my phone and saw the amazing collection of texts from the night. All were signs of a great evening.
Throughout this project, I have learned lots about relationships and myself. But I’ve also learned more about the people around me; and I can say I’m truly lucky. My friends and family are amazing—so thank you, for everything. This project was more beneficial than I could have imagined, but don’t get me wrong, I hope I never have to do it again.
Dear Mr. Right,
Let’s meet soon. Or, if we’ve already met, speak up.
Holly A. Phillips (Ms. Perfect)
DAY 62: FIND YOUR DATE TEXTING YOUR EX
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
That’s right, my first date since I found myself single, was texting my ex-boyfriend at the table.
Only me, right?
If I didn’t laugh at my life, I sure as hell would cry. But no matter how much this dating world continues to screw me over, I refuse to believe I’ll be in this predicament forever. It only has to work one time, with one man, and that’s who I’m looking for.
So to both of you, grow up and leave me out of your stupid games. Time to get a life before I become besties with the police.
Calling all bachelors: if you don’t know who my ex-boyfriend is, maybe we should date!
Posted on November 30, 2013, in The Ingredients and tagged breakup guide, breakups, dating, ex boyfriends, getting published, heartbreak, Holly A. Phillips, How to Make Lemonade, life, love, relationships, sex, single, The Frisky, twenty-something, writing. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.