Sorry, Irish. Shit’s getting real later.

I definitely shouldn’t be as proud as I am of my ability to choke down sudden-onset Feels and get on with my workday, but my GOD, this time was impressive.

I deserve some sort of Irish medal.

But…tonight is pretty much earmarked entirely for a date with Fiona Apple, bourbon, and an Ugly Cry.

And hey, happy bonus of the nausea: my lunch is still sitting untouched on my desk. They’re diet feelings this time! Feelings Lite! 100-Calorie Feelings!

Ahem. There’s a line from “Friends” where Chandler introduces himself by saying, “I’m Chandler, I make jokes when I’m uncomfortable.”

P.S. I’ll be fine. Don’t call any hotlines.

Upholding my finest family traditions…

Logically I know there’ll come a time when seeing my ex at a group gathering of “our” still-coupled friends won’t make my brain all swimmy afterward.

Now that I’m home from tonight’s festivities, though, since I’m half Irish and half redneck, let’s hear it for stifling my feelings with whiskey and off-key singing along to blaring country music.

Suck it, thinking.

P.M.S. P.S.

The P.S. on an email to friends about all my special feeeeelings:

“I’m also menstruating, so kindly accept this grain of salt. Just a grain, though — I’ll bite your goddamn hand off if you take my salt.”

Not today, Satan.

Can someone please come exorcise this weepy bitch from my brain? I’m not sure how she got here, but she’s kind of an asshole.

The Continuing Wisdom of #TGIT

“I don’t know how to do this thing you do, where you make me feel like crap and there are no words coming out of your mouth.”
— Amelia Shepherd, Grey’s Anatomy

#TGIT #BeenThere

Slutty McSidepiece and the Stage 5 Clingers

Talking to a friend…

Me: “I’m thinking about hooking up with an ‘open marriage’ guy from OkCupid.”
Friend: “You could try it. I mean…you’re already IN therapy.”

There’s immense appeal in a guy who’ll come with me to a movie, come with me in the bedroom, then get the hell out. When I try to date proper, I attract Clingers, get anxious, and make terrible choices. That shouldn’t be an issue with one who’s already housebroken.

But I also know myself, and I may be too insecure to come second…literally or otherwise. If Dude satisfies my needs too well, I may catch feels, and if I fall for him, I’m SOL. The wife’s gonna stay the wife — I’d just be Slutty McSidepiece. I do not do well as Slutty McSidepiece.

I wonder if I’d rather fend off Clingers and hold out for a person with whom feels are at least an option, even if we never get there.

Then again… I don’t HAVE to date the guy long. Maybe I NEED a naked friend to fuck some clarity into me without all the relationship crap.

Also, if you consider where I am mentally, I might as well be in an open marriage, too. I have one guy I’d drop anything and anyone to help and/or be with, so as far as my heart and brain are concerned, I also have a “primary partner.” Then I still have the second guy in the back of my head, just for bonus emotional fuckery, so I have even worse trust issues than before. I can’t handle a real relationship, are you crazy?

Plus, if the guy turns out to be boring, I can just say I can’t handle playing second fiddle. (And that may actually turn out to be true.)

I can spot a Clinger at 50 paces now, anyway — “Oh, you’re doing THAT? Yeah, I’ve done that. I INVENTED that. Don’t even.” So far I’ve encountered three on OkCupid, and I’ve dodged them all without ever meeting them.

I’m a Recovering Clinger, and I approved this message.

P.S. I actually ran this by the therapist and she says I’m in the clear as long as I’m safe. She told me it was good for me to explore options, to be aware of those emotional attachments I still have, to be conscious of what I need, and possibly work out a way to GET it without pressuring myself about being in a “proper” relationship. I think this is a good intermittent step, and she seems to agree.

P.P.S. Dude is ADORABLE and I want to make all the sex with him.

Life Lessons from Small Ponies.

You could probably tell I didn’t have the best emotional time over the weekend (fuck the entire Venn diagram of the holidays and PMS, seriously). Male BFF was concerned and invited me over for alcohol and merriment with him and his lady, one of my Female BFFs.

I declined but texted my thanks, and man, I tell ya, the My Little Ponies are right — friendship IS magic: 

 

Early-onset Holiday Feels

Relationship Recovery Test #873: Can I FINALLY stop avoiding “The Great Pumpkin” and watch it without having an emotional breakdown…?

Defeating your purpose with drunk texts

A friend got a late-night drunk text from a guy last night (not even a booty call, ’twas about the feels), and I got one recently as well, leading us to a conversation about what people are thinking when they do this.

For me, the late-night drunk text will get you absolutely nowhere. In fact, it will set you back, because in addition to whatever the text says (which I automatically think is drunken horseshit because of the time, OR that you meant to text someone else), you’re also saying you don’t think enough of me to come correct soberly and say it by the light of day. It’s insulting, and pretty much makes you look like an asshole.

I can’t even imagine how much shit I’d get if I pulled that on a guy. I wouldn’t even get to defend myself — he’d probably just block my number, because it’s a dick move. If a chick did it, we’d get written off as your crazy psycho stalker. (Unless it’s a booty call, in which case I think we’d be cleared. Maybe… I personally have such a hard time sleeping that if anyone woke me up planning to penetrate me, I’d probably be pretty pissed. Don’t know how dudes would react.)

P.S. I AM, however, allllll about the late-night drunk email. It doesn’t wake anyone up, and I like waking up to long-form sexiness in my inbox…tee hee…

Unexpected Pixar rage.

I’d steeled myself to feel all the feels and FINALLY go see Inside Out.

But what I did NOT prepare for was the bullshit short cartoon they showed before the movie. It was about a lonely boy volcano, with a face, looking for volcano love, singing an insufferable song about being a lonely volcano and not being able to find a lady volcano.*

Now I have a goddamn VOLCANO reminding me that I’m dying alone?! A VOLCANO needs a soulmate?

Thanks for reminding me I’m at the movies alone, Bitch Volcano. Maybe you need to look inside yourself for validation — did you ever think of that?

Pixar can go fuck itself. In 3D.

* “Lady volcano” is my new favorite euphemism for my vagina.