Category Archives: Love Stinks

So Good

There are people in your life who are going to love you for all of the wrong reasons. They will love you for the best part of your face, the best part of you naked, the best mood on your best day, the best story you ever wrote, the best outfit you ever wore.

They are going to miss the scar on the underside of your nose from the time your older brothers dared you to run across a pile of logs. They won’t know that you fell on a hidden nail just as you completed the challenge. They’ll miss the scar on your finger, too from the time you were seven and closed a swiss army knife on it. They won’t understand that these are two of only a handful of things you can remember about your childhood. They’ll notice that you have great tits, but they’ll miss that your thumb tucks into their palm when you’re walking together and that your eyes have darker circles when a migraine is coming. They won’t know you get migraines. They won’t ask where the story you wrote came from, so they’ll never know that it was true. They’ll love it because it feels real to them. They’ll miss knowing the sweatshirt full of holes that they criticized you for wearing was your dads. You might tell them some of these things along the way, but they will remember the best things instead.

They will love your good moods, your energy, your sense of humor, but miss that you never turn to them, but rather to a shower or a pillow or the back of your throat to shed tears. They won’t ever consider you strong.

When the parts that aren’t your best come out, some people will shield their eyes as if you have just forced them to look directly into the sun for hours until their irises burn. They’ll silently make you promise to never show them that again. Those things are not to be shown. Be at your best so I can love you. I would love you more if only you never show me those things.

And you do not marry those people. You do not sit and sleepily drink coffee with those people. You leave those people and you remind yourself that they missed the better parts of you.

– From Give Me A Job, Please

I’ve been thinking about those boys a lot lately, what with being engaged, being in the longest relationship of my life, and living with a significant other for the first (and hopefully only) time.

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Eternal Sunshine Of The Offline Mind

Sometimes I wish I could just remove my thumbprint from the internet completely, so I wouldn’t have to think about certain people or, worse and more specifically, know that they are thinking about me. I’m engaged! I shouldn’t have to think about this bullcrap anymore! GO AWAAAAY

And while I don’t feel quite as dramatic as this (and definitely not lovestruck), it’s still worth sharing because I am dying over Charli XCX, seriously:

Also Grimes!

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Too Cold To Touch It

This song makes me wish every ex-boyfriend I’ve ever had would call me.* Even the gross ones! Even the ones I dumped! Even though I have the best boyfriend in the world!  THAT’S HOW GREAT THIS IS.



*Do not call me.

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First And Foremost, I’d Like To Mention You

I used to spend a lot of time on this blog writing about this dude who broke my heart. It’s why I started the blog in the first place, admittedly. I would say hundreds dozens of entries are about how that affected me, and the entire spectrum of emotions that come from a loss like that. (I’m hurting! I’m over it! I’m reflective! I’m empowered! I’m pathetic! I’m hot shit!)

Since I’m moving to a new blog and it will be a while before I transfer this over, there’s a part of me that feels like I’m officially moving on, even if I moved on emotionally 3 years ago.

But I feel like there’s one more thing I have to admit; one regret I really have about that entire relationship: I really wish I had known more about my city when he was here, so I could have shown him why St. Louis is so great. The only places I really showed him were West County and that stretch of Natural Bridge Road where he spent a semester at UMSL. Not the best representation of the Lou, you know?

I don’t regret it because I think he would’ve moved here instead of dumping me for that band. These days, I’m glad he didn’t.

I simply regret it because St. Louis is so fucking amazing. Every day since I moved to the city (and these days, when I spend every weekend downtown) I discover something or someone new and I fall in love with it all over again. The architecture. The history. The revitalization. The diversity. The quirks. The landmarks. The food. The bars. SOUTH CITY. And so on, and so on.

People from the East Coast have such a strange perception of everything below and west of them, at least until they reach California. They consider the rest of us uncultured and ignorant, when they’ve never driven through the rest of the country and interacted with the people (or even acknowledged that underneath the southern accents, they are people at all). This was my chance to show some kid from Connecticut why my city was so rich – why people left his homeland, met up here, and called it expansion – and I blew it.

Some people think it’s sad to live in the same area all your life (and I’m not even sure I will; I would love to migrate north to Michigan or Wisconsin someday, and so would J). But I love how every corner of this area is mapped in my heart, through the various groups of friends who lived in each neighborhood, the people I was with when I explored each street and discovered its haunts. And I love that in the past year, I’ve realized how much of this city I DON’T know and how astonishingly gorgeous it is, despite all it’s faults. Last week, I watched fireworks in the playground where my dad used to play, without even knowing, and I felt him there. Next month, I’ll be able to look out my window and see the building my mom worked at 50 years ago, directly across the street.

So yeah, aside from stories about London, heartbreak in general, or that time he knocked my tooth out (or if Justin dumps me some day and I go on another heartbreak bender), I can’t picture myself writing about him the way I used to. But I had to put this out there. B, if you read this, St. Louis is fucking beautiful, and I’m so sorry I couldn’t show you why.

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The Coffee Isn’t Even Bitter

This song used to make me so sad, but even in my misery, I knew that someday I’d be able to love it.

Yesterday I heard it for the first time in years and remembered, “Oh yay! I can love you now!” I can’t wait to run to this song, even though it’s slow.

A couple months ago, my friend’s wife left him. All his friends kept Facebooking him with bummer things like, “Sorry bro,” and “That sucks dude.” So I left him this: “This is the best time in your life to do cool shit. Travel. Make new friends. Learn what you like now, not what you liked the last time you thought about it. Do all of this and I PROMISE – in five years, you’ll look back on this as the best thing that ever happened to you.” And I meant it.

My favorite running song has a slightly similar theme, and while not entirely applicable to me (it reminds me of TSCoC, though the only reason we don’t talk is because he’s in Myanmar), it’s a far more jammin’ way to end this so here you go:

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My Little Chicken Drumstick

And then Erik posted this:

This video reminds me of a conversation I had with a dude that I was hanging out with when my dad got sick. He would whine about how much life sucks 24/7 while my dad, who had just discovered his heart was 75% blocked and he could probably drop dead at any second, managed to smile and crack me up on a daily basis.

One night I interrupted his bitching and started yelling at him about it: “You have your health, you have a job, you have a roof over your head, you have family, you have friends, you’re smart … you may not have a car, but at least you can walk. Some people can’t, or they can but they don’t have anywhere to go. You know? Focus on the shit you have – because you have more than you think – and build from there. Your life will never get better until you do.”

He refused to admit that there was anything good about his life. I started to get more and more upset, and in hindsight, I was probably more mad at myself for suddenly realizing my own negative attitude than I was at him. But I flashed him this disgusted look and tremblingly said – in a voice so harsh, I can’t believe it came out of me – “My dad’s body is killing him, but he’s still living more than you.”

Needless to say, that’s about the time he stopped talking to me. I try to control my emotions these days, but people who are trapped in their own misery make me violently angry. Life sucks. But it doesn’t stop and, after a certain point, neither should you. Get a good night’s sleep, grab some duct tape and get back to it. You know?

Point of story: I love this dude.

The joke about his hands being cold reminds me of something that cracked my family up at the hospital. My dad needs an inflatable mattress for his bedsores. During one visit, after they brought in the bed and put my dad in it, a nurse taped a sign to the wall:

She taped it to the wall after she saw that my dad doesn’t have heels. I read the note to him and he laughed.

“Well, I forgot to bring my heels with me. Can we float yours?” he asked, then added, “Are you sure it’s safe to leave me with these people?”

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You Will Probably Tell Your Grandkids About It

Last year on the Fourth of July, I really hit rock bottom in terms of my love life and, more importantly, being depressed about my love life.

The dude I was dating (and am still friends with) ditched me to reevaluate his life and try to fix things with his ex. During the same week, a friend who has liked me since college (that I couldn’t date at the time because of Brian) decided to pursue me again, bombarded me with compliments, promised to visit, and promptly chickened out.

My circle of close friends at that point consisted of all couples, except for two guys that I had dated (who both blamed me for complicating their friendship). I was pretty sad about watching the fireworks alone, surrounded by all of them, for reasons that are too complicated to explain here. Let’s just say, I have a history of lonely fireworks.

I had asked two friends to warn me if my ex was at the 4th of July party, and not only did one get mad at me for asking, but they still didn’t tell me. So I showed up to this party with a brave face, immediately saw not one but two exes, with the rest of the group staring at me to see what I would do. I stayed, but I felt blindsided and (though this is no one’s fault and probably has more to do with all the above events combined) a little hurt. I went home early, and almost skipped the fireworks entirely before meeting them at the last minute, unsoberly.

The next day, I decided that being depressed and pouting wasn’t doing me any favors, so I resolved to branch out and meet new people. I contacted a few folks about this TV Time Club that a Squid named Justin was throwing on his roof, and I got the secret password.

I drove downtown extremely early, not knowing what I was in for. So when I climbed out onto the roof, I saw Justin standing there all alone, with a lit-up Ferris Wheel spinning behind him.

My friend Heather is convinced that I’m going to marry Justin, so she asked me, “Did you just know? When I met my husband, I knew.”

And even though I was trying to avoid “Are You My Boyfriend?” Syndrome, and I’m risking sounding like an asshole here if we ever break up – I did. I knew. Something huge was about to happen, and I could feel it starting right there.

I guess my point with this story is, get ready for some Epic Fireworks Cuddling tonight, people. I earned it.

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