In the summer of 2017, I went on a few dates and slept with a French Guy who lived in the East Village. Unwittingly and stupidly, I caught feelings.
After date #3, I started to suspect that the French Guy wasn’t into it anymore. While we texted for a few days after, he did not ask me on another date. On a Friday night, I suggested meeting up and his response was that he was out with a coworker who liked to party and he would have a late night. Having finally gotten the hint, I deleted his number from my phone, wrote him off as another New York slash French idiot, and went on my merry way.
That Saturday night, I went out drinking with friends in Battery Park and was enjoying the New Jersey sunset across the Hudson when my iPhone chirped with an unknown number text. The French Guy sent a rambling text about how he is looking for a long term relationship, does not want to see me anymore, and he should have never let things get this far. Way to take the knife and just twist it, French Guy.
So I am just the girl that no one sees a long term relationship future with. Cool.
Buzzfeed has never gotten it so right.
For someone who is supposed to have abundant free time, I have not done very well on my bucket list items to do in LA. Here’s my sad but mildly productive update!
- Hike Runyon Canyon
- Visit Getty Villa
- Bike down the coast from Santa Monica to Hermosa
- Drive on Mulholland Drive
- Visit Turtle Races at Brennan’s
- Go to a Lakers or Clippers game
- See the stars at Bar Marmont
- Dim sum in Chinatown
- Re-visit LACMA
- Pizza at Pizzeria Mozza
11.Have a drink at Roosevelt Tropicana pool in Hollywood
12. Visit the Greystone Mansion (it’s a free and fun thing to do in LA!)
Lesson #1 of the 12 Lessons of Christmas: Appreciate the Small Things in Life.
I spent a week in my hometown of Chicago for Thanksgiving. Then my job told me that I had to spend another week there. So I spent 2 weeks in Chicago where the thermometer stayed around 25 or less (with the exception of one 55 degree day because – hey – that’s the mother f–king Midwest for you).
One weekday night, I walked to a Pilates class after a day that snowed that should have been an easy 10 minute walk. Instead, I almost slipped and fell 6 times on ice because residents in Chicago can’t be bothered to salt the sidewalk*. I actually caught myself slipping on black ice 45 seconds away from my destination.
Lesson of the week: I now fully appreciate the ice-free and danger-free sidewalks of Los Angeles. It is the little things in life.
* oh, you didn’t know that salting the street/sidewalk is a thing?! Go spend 7-10 months in the Midwest and you’ll learn how good we have it in Southern California.
At a Halloween party recently, a cute guy talked me into talking to a tarot card reader. Now I know better than listen to this crap 98% of the time, but for some reason (perhaps given my recent spat of all sorts of bad karma…or maybe it was the vodka) I decided to give Gypsy Fortune Teller Lady a try.
As the tarot card reading went on, it was like an accident unfolding slowly in front of you: it just kept getting worse and worse. My first card represented that I was very frustrated with my love life (I think I’ve managed to kiss 3 guys this year and I liked none of them…dammit). Then there was a card with a man looking up at 3 heads in the sky and that represented that you and your family are at odds (not surprising thanks to meddling mom’s recent behavior). Then there was some sad guy in the field reaping and sowing which signified my job was very taxing and it was only going to get worse (yay). I actually asked her for outlook on that one and she said that it would be a long time to see my efforts to pay off.
Once she gave me the Devil card, I concluded that no good would come of this and stopped listening. Or the vodka set in and I can’t remember the conclusion. Either way, it was the world’s worst tarot card reading.