The Talk

Yesterday, I met him at the place where we had our first date. We were both dressed up. He ordered me a cappuccino and picked out a table before I arrived. It was the best worst thing ever. I thought it would last an hour or so. It lasted three. I’ve never been more in love with someone than I am in this relationship.

Lack there of.

Whatever. I’m still a SINGLE BETCH.

This whole interaction did highlight how much I need to work on, and how much he needs to work on before we can be in eachother’s lives. It sucks. But also it was great. The interaction also made me realize just how fucking weird we both are. We are so competitive, We are crude. We are disgusting. We are immature. It’s beautiful. He is the only person that I can just BE with. Even my best girlfriends will be like, “Wow Nora, you’re a fucking weird.” It sucked because it’s a tease. And even worse because I KNOW that I need to hook up with other people to protect my pride and dignity, but whatever. I’m just going to try and separate feelings from that. 

Ben, the boy, is so strange. He’s my favorite little weird. I miss him. I love him. I need to be a better version of myself though. He needs to be the best version of himself, or else neither of us deserve eachother.


Tra La La. Confusion. 



My nightmares are now just really vivd dreams of happy moments with my ex. Likely moments. Last night, I slept for 3 hours. All three hours were occupied by us getting drunk, getting into an argument, making up, making out, making….. and then waking up in the morning with his face on my pillow. I can pick out the exact pigmentation of his bare back. I can trace the curvature of his profile from memory. I know his touch. His breath. All of it returns to me in my sleep. I can actually feel him kissing me.

And then I wake up in a state of extreme paranoia…. worried that my dog has somehow made it into my room to lick my face….. I mean, these things happen…. but so far, it’s just my memory.

I’ve been a huge creep and have interpreted every dream I’ve had into those stupid online dictionaries. All that any of them say is “this means you love the person” or “this is a reflection of your longing to physically be with a certain person”. I was hoping for an “AHA” moment, like…. no shit that’s why I’m dreaming of that.

Just like ugggh, stop it! Out of sight out of mind? I thought. My mind is far too cunning for my own good. I have been getting better at burrying it. Except for… you know. Drunk texting like a dumbstupididiotbitch.

Cherry on top? Today is a would-be anniversary…. AS WELL as a 2.5 year anniversary to my best friend’s death. I’d write a long thing about Em, but something needs to go in to my ACTUAL diary.

Love and drugs,

Pandas and hugs,


I’ve been in a…

I’ve been in a 4 year long relationship. Nothing hurts like this though. I guess this is my first love.



I don’t understand. I gave you fucking everything that I had. How can you not love me back? How can you not be fighting for the opportunity to make it work. FUCK.

A Comical Conversation

So I’m home for a few days. That’s neither here nor there. What I’d like to discuss is how my family has the most fabulously absurd dynamic ever.

First, we’re political. More specifically, bleeding heart Kennedy liberals. However, in my father’s aging process, he has developed a new persona…. alter ego even. His new persona is that of a grumpy old tea-partier. He brings it to life every time my mother asks him to do something.

I am the youngest and only girl. My mother works as a speech pathologist, but her hours are half of what my fathers are and with much more flexibility. She took yesterday off to sit on the couch with me. and watch shitty movies. We then prepared my dad a delicious meal, and we all sat down to eat upon his arrival. When she asked my father to clear the table, the grumpy ass republican reared his ugly head.

My father went on a Romney inspired rant about how my mother was the 47% of our family. How everyone in this family is hell bent on redistributing his wealth. How there’s a “god damn” entitlement program happening under his own roof. And then it was taken a step farther when in retaliation my mother pointed out that all of the masculine and ‘american’ labor in my house was done by people that we can all assume are not legal citizens, and that my father was a god damn racist bigot who reduces the only black being in our house to the status of an animal (this would be my dog). This is a typical dinner conversation. We all did the dishes. My dog ate a stick of butter. That’s not necesarry information, but you should know how dope my dog is. Bernese Mountain Dog, it doesn’t get any better.

I like these conversations because it highlights how batshit insane our country is. Call me a socialist. I don’t care. We’re all people. It doesn’t make any sense for us to not treat everyone that way. As my mother once said… last weekend… “It’s fine to have more than you need, but when you have more, you give more. Why take from the people who don’t have anything to give?”

I like my parents.