After The One

They tell you life is cut and dry. As if things work or they don’t. As if we still live in the vein existence of a black and white television coated with accurate simplicity. They tell you about princesses and the princes that carry them away. They speak on the importance of obtaining a degree, or two, or three. They suggest you fold to the pressures of our societal norms: save money, vacation with a purpose, find the one who makes your heart seep like sand through the cracks of your hands only to coat the exposed skin. Or if nothing else, pay your bills. They tell us all of these things in hopes of guiding our decision into a practical conundrum. They tell us these things in hope to spare an ounce or two of lung puncturing pain.

Of nauseating thought.

Of stomach wrenching sadness.

There was this point after college where life seemed set. In a relationship with a breathtaking man, a ground breaking career on the horizon, and a handful of close friends to lean on in lack luster times of need.

Then all of it came to an end. Came slowly breaking down onto the floor of a 400 square foot efficiency.

My career became spent through the decision to move home. My heart physically sickened by lost love. And a gaping hole pushing any ounce of security out of the world so precisely planned. The life of a washed up 20-something was starring at a sunken cheeked, black eyed, outline of the person I could never be.

It took three months to go a day without crying. Five months to let go of social stipulation. Ten to go a day without thinking of him. And twelve to understand the universe had placed me in the exact right position.

They tell you all of these things that seem great in theory though neglect to tell you pain-stakingly plausible outcomes. Perhaps it is a cover, or perhaps a constant fault of the generations before. The only problem with it, they never tell you what happens after the one.

Girl Talk, Because I said So


My life is one big overbearing opinion. So it only makes sense that I have a mouth full when it comes to relationships. I have spent a life learning hard lessons and watching my friends be left broken hearted only to say once more “Screw him! All boys suck. You will find way better anyways.”

We contradict ourselves in adjacent sentences and still our friends believe us. Even we believe us. It is outrageous.

But the thing about girls, is that we are actually all the same. Ladies rolling your eyes at me because you “are the only girl who doesn’t care about love,” stop. Your fooling no one.

We are hyper compulsive creatures and it’s about time we own up to it. Who ever said being crazy is a bad thing? Like when did it become a bad thing to give a shit? All we want is love. All we want is the one thing people work their whole lives to find. So sue us if we want it now.

Don’t get me wrong any potential mates I might encounter… I’m not going to sneak into your window at night and stare while you breather. We aren’t psychopaths. Well, most of us aren’t anyways. We simply care. It’s the way we were built.

See, the truth is I only know these things because for years I tried to not be this girl. I was always the one saying she wanted to live alone in a flat with an avocado tree while in my mind I was writing vows upon first introduction. I walked through life shielding my heart from the outside world because I didn’t want to be where I had seen so many others. In a ditch of failed hope.

Which is all this is. Hope. Girls hope with their whole hearts, and they get crushed with them too. I know no guy will read this and think “man, she is right.” They save those thoughts for sex encouraging articles. But I do hope girls can read it and realize they are just fine. That what they want to do is the right thing.

you can only regret the things you didn’t try. Not that I’m saying try to call a guy who isn’t answering you 40 times in a row…. That indeed, will cause regret. But don’t be ashamed of liking someone. Don’t be embarrassed if they don’t like you back. If you have a hunch he is fading away don’t claw him down, but also don’t hesitate to throw the “Hey, I might be crazy, but something seems weird” text.

And just remember, one day you will find someone who thinks those compulsive feelings are cute. Better yet, he even want to make sure they stay around forever. That’s right ladies, the nice guy isn’t the only one who wins in the end. The crazy girl does too.