:(

I haven’t written in a while. Things have been nuts, crazy, wonderful, confusing, bad, and again CONFUSING.

I’ve done a lot of messed up things to get even, numb, away from it all. Basically nothing productive. Then Sandy came and fucked shit up for everyone. It’s all so surreal. This city will never be the same.

But this is my diary relationship blog. So that’s what I’m going to discuss.

I’m so low. I’m so worried. About me. About him. He’s my person. And I know that. And I think he knows that. We are hurting each other so much right now. I want to be a part of fixing him right now. I can see him spiraling. He can see me spiraling. I just want both of us to catch each other. I know we can. I know it’s not healthy to be codependent, but also isn’t it terrible to be like…. Dying? Ahhhhh this is so frustrating. I miss being a part of his life. It’s not even about sex or a relationship or anything anymore. I just want to be there for him and be with him. Like I want to be his friend. I sound forever lame and I know that. This is my sad post. Sorry guys.

Nightmares

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,

Nora.

Shameless

So all my roomies just went to another apartment for dinner. I opted out to stay home and actually accomplish some work. The good news? I did! The mediocre news? Not all of it.

Instead, I decided to assess today’s look…. and also get a new avatar for my twitter. I ran in to he who shall not be named today. My first thought after was hmmmmm… I wonder how I look. My hair was up when I saw him, but I was rocking my super chic shades. I’ll give this look a 5 out of 10. My curly hair is what I thrive best in, but I can only do so much on 30 seconds notice. So maybe this was a victory?

I didn’t realize how long it had been since I had a selfie session until I opened up my web cam gallery. My last pictures are of me 25 pounds ago with mermaid hair. Seems surreal. I look like a preteen child. I think I’ll cherish these new found curves.

Because no one worth talking to is going to be buying me drinks if I look like I’m 12.

So enjoy my, 1-8 daily readers. This is my face. THIS IS THE FACE that isn’t worth fixing it for. Obviously more complicated, but won’t you join me in being spiteful?

Also, while this is indeed therapeutic to me, I open up the floor for any questions. I figure, hey, maybe these 4 people wanna know who’s rants they’re reading. So here’s your opportunity. I’ll reply to comments.

And with that, have a beautiful day. Chances are, you deserve it.

Getting over it?

I’ve coasted through the stages of grief.

Well the first one anyways.

Denial and Isolation.

I was in denial about the fact that it’s actually over. I can’t hold on to the hope of fixing my relationship if the relationship does not exist. I spent days in my apartment with my new boyfriends, Ben and Jerry (Which is hysterical seeing as one of those names is the name of my former boyfriend). I’ve watched shitty love movies, and sobbed on the phone to my best friend across the country.

I’ve come to realize that this is NOT the easiest way to live.

Which brings me to my favorite stage in the grief cycle: Anger.

Oh how I love anger. Nothing makes it easier to be the best version of yourself when your intentions come from a place of spitefulness and resentment. It took me a week, but fuck it, I’m angry.

I came to this conclusion after a weekend in Manhattan with my mother. We drank French wine, saw plays, shopped, went to museums, pampered ourselves at the spa, and most importantly, analyzed every detail of that fatal conversation on Thursday. Yes, he made some logical points. Yes, we’re broken. Yes, we should not be together. HOWEVER, the part that is illogical, is the idea that the best thing for our relationship is for him to be with other people, and EVEN MORE illogical, that he is doing this “for us”. Maybe, just maybe, he believes that. Yet, I realize that even if his intentions are for us, his actions are not. I MUST be angry at the idea that someone can profess their love for me and then seek permission to “love” on other people. He might love me, but those certainly aren’t the actions of someone in love with me. OUCH REJECTION.

That makes me angry. How can someone reject me? I’m intelligent. I have all my teeth. I’m usually pretty witty. And when I’m not an emotional basket case, people usually don’t mind being around me. This is me pumping up my ego after such a devastating loss. Almost pathetic, but we’ll call it self esteem building.

I’m angry that he has the ability to turn off his emotions. Why can’t girls do that? I yearn for the ability to emotionally detach myself in the way that the males of our society do. I’ve deleted his number, disposed of his pictures, hidden his clothes, and tucked his love notes into a trunk in my room. Perhaps I need to dispose of it all. I just don’t get it! If I asked one of his friends how he was doing, I am certain that they would tell me that he seems great and that he’s taking it really well. If someone did the same with one of my friends, they’d tell them that I was doing okay, hanging in there. You can be certain that a response like that would only be given out of loyalty to me, rather than an accurate description of the current situation. What his friends would tell me would most definitely be the truth. I guess I’m just sitting here wondering if he hurts like I hurt. If this is as much a loss for him as it is for me. It makes me hate him knowing that I, by my own fault, am being portrayed as the desperate clinger-on-er, when I know that no third party could understand the depth of what we shared.

I’m angry because it feels like he’s throwing it away.

I can’t be angry about that though. Not now anyways.

Instead I am focusing on every bad time in our relationship. Every time I felt inferior, neglected, nagged, embarrassed  hurt, or angry with him. Let me tell you, tis far easier than reminiscing of Sunday mornings in bed together.

I guess I’m not as angry as I need to be. But is ‘hurt’ a part of the grieving process? Because I’m pretty sure that’s all I’m feeling.

And bla bla bla. Sad weepy single girl strikes again.

Single girl. Weird.

Grief.

Probably, this won’t be quirky or funny. Don’t say that I didn’t warn you.

He broke up with me. I won’t say that he dumped me. That seems too brutal for hist intentions. It’s the story that everyone knows. I’m just shocked that it is happening to me. I love him. He loves me. I don’t doubt this. But we are broken. This is my immaturity. I am the most impatient and unforgiving 20 year old that exists. We get spiteful and resentful, then end up exploding into each other’s faces. I think I need to remember how awful the last few weeks have been.

I’m just not mad anymore. I would take back every antagonizing thing that I’ve said to him to make this better. What sucks is that I know that’s not just it. The issues are bigger. The pain is deeper. The consequences are unfortunately more mature than our relationship could be.

The irony is that he is doing the mature adult thing. So many nights, I begged him to grow up. I guess he is.

What was a break became single-ness. It fucking sucks. I have been the single college girl. I’ve dated a ton of people, even slept with a few. I’ve gone out with my girl friends, been reckless and wild. I did that. I know what that is. I know what that feels like. I don’t want that anymore. I’m not saying that all single people go out and do reckless shit, I’m just saying that I found my always. The thought of another person even laying a finger on me makes me want to vomit. I don’t have “fear of missing out” because I was confident that even in the worst of moments, I had the best.

He hasn’t been single in college. He says he doesn’t want to end up resenting me or himself for missing out on that experience. I’m thinking, okay, seems rational. But then I have a briief reality moment where I realize how fucking naive I’m being. He says he wants our someday. And I acknowledge that it is NOT fucking working right now, but he also says don’t wait. Okay. I won’t. But what the fuck am I supposed to do?? I felt like I had to literally just give him the go ahead to be with other people. That makes me want to do lines of anthrax. This is me being negative. Yes. I just feel like, if you love me like you say that you do, you won’t be able to be with anyone else. That’s always been a simple argument for me. Perhaps I’m just old fashioned. I just don’t know if I’d be able to be with him again knowing that he was fucking other people in the interim. Maybe he won’t. Maybe he definitely will. I don’t think it will be soon, but I dread the day I find out about it. But at the same time, I love him enough to know how toxic this relationship is for him.

I don’t know what the right answer is for me in terms of how I carry on. I don’t want anyone else. I don’t want anyone right now, I suppose technically. I can’t wait for him. I can’t move on. I fear that he will meet someone and move on, which will in time allow me to move on. OR he will hook up with a lot of girls, deem it not as good as expected, and then attempt to rekindle whatever it is that we just through the water over. I don’t think I’m capable of option 2.

In my perfect world, we spend a few months apart doing our own thing, being with friends, being introspective, realigning our priorities, doing school work, eating, sleeping, exercising, and then we talk. I’m overly optimistic. I need to just see this as the end. I need to accept that he probably isn’t coming back. Contemplating joining a convent.

As you can see, I played the role of toddler in this situation. I feel rejected. I wish I hated him. I wish it could have worked out the first time.

Most of all, I wish that I didn’t just lose my best friend.

So I shall spend the remainder of my night writing a Spanish paper as the rate of one conjugated verb per hour while trying to remember all of the painful things about our relationship, so as not to hate my current life.

The Worst.

I have decided today that the worst part about breaking up with/taking a break from/no longer being together with someone is NOT how emotionally destroyed both parties feel, but it is in fact communicating this status change to other people.

There are various reactions that you may or may definitely encounter.

1.) The Pity Party: This person will play company to your misery, consoling you in a very public place. They will apologize for the lack of functionality in your relationship, and then ask you how you are doing. THIS is the most RIDICULOUS question to ask someone in said situation. Hmmm… Gee… I don’t know. I guess I feel really great about the loss of my companion. I’ve been sleeping well, and it’s definitely not consuming me. I haven’t been drinking at all, and I was born with the stress acne all over my face. Moral? Don’t ask. Anyways, the Pity Party will make a fabulously public ordeal out of their shock and surprise, presumably with a hand on your shoulder or forearm. In extreme cases, the entire conversation will happen during an embrace. Also, you will only ever encounter the Pity Party when you are in a hurry to get somewhere. Never convenient. Always a dreadful reminder of how terrible you’re actually feeling.

2.) The “Yeah, I Saw This Coming” (YISTC for brevity): This person will make no effort to hide the lack of surprise on their face. They will imply that they knew of your doom before you did, often times while iPhone multitasking. This person is just fabulous because by discrediting the emotional intensity, passion, and love in your forsaken relationship, you will feel compelled to rationalize with yourself. You will feel the need to internally prove that they could not have POSSIBLY seen this coming because you had the BEST RELATIONSHIP EVER. You will then spend the rest of the day resenting this person and convincing yourself that a terrible mistake has been made, and that you must get back together immediately.

3.) The Overly Inquisitive: This person will dig for the dirty details until they’re up to their elbows in shit. They will have no filter, and their not-so-secret agenda will of course be to choose a side. You will, of course, answer generically, and even go so far as to say that you would really rather not discuss it right now. They shan’t be giving a damn about that, my friend. It goes like this- I just really don’t feel like talking about it anymore. It’s been a long day. Then. Well has he talked to you since? Do you think he’s on the same page? Do you know if there is anyone else? As we say in the great metropolitan area of Boston, Fahhhhck you.

4.) The Overly Supportive Guy Friend: This should not surprise you. If you end it, they will come. Fortunately, this is only a temporary annoyance. Once they realize how much emotional baggage you have returned with from this relationship, they will once again remember that your tits are “just okay”. You must be sure to acquire as many free beverages before you break your cover.

5.) The Alcoholic: You will not need this person. Let me repeat, YOU WILL NOT NEED THIS PERSON. They’re first response will be drinking. They’re second response will be drunkenly hooking up with someone else. Again, YOU WILL NOT NEED THIS PERSON. If you’re drinking like you’re feeling, you really have no use for an enabler. They will dress you up like a Chinese hooker and promise you a night full of roofied mixed drinks at a college bar. Refrain. REFRAIN. And stay the FUCK away from other guys if you want any hope left to fix your own shit storm of a relationship.

You may be curious as to what the ideal response is.

It is this.

(Scrunched up Maroney disapproval mouth with kinder eyes. Arms uncrossed. Perhaps a brief hug)

That sucks so much. I’m sorry, girl. I hope you feel better. Let me know if you need to talk.

This way, you are not victimizing, hurting, insulting, or endangering the person, yet you still have a flicker of human empathy.

God knows that bitches love empathy.

Today was a thing.

First, I am doing this for me. This is my public diary. This is my soon to be guilty pleasure. This is me allowing my roommates to escape a play by play of my everyday trials and tribulations to make it to the next.

Hello. Nice to meet you. I am Nora. I enjoy writing. I enjoy an audience. I know what you’re thinking. And yes, I am an attention whore. As is the rest of the internet. You’re welcome for being honest. Now begins my actual blog.

After one year of dating, my boyfriend and I decided to take a break. I’m not sure if anyone out there is aware of what this actually translates to, but for people who fucking hate each other and don’t know how to say it nicely, it means the end. It means the bitter resolution to months of resentment.

I wish I was a part of that category.

Unfortunately for my sad self, I am drowning in a sea of hopeless romantics who want nothing more then to make shit work, but are being forced to respect their own dignity. It’s the worst. The absolute worst- knowing that you love someone and that they love you back, but that you are both in college, and that you can’t help but be a total bitch when you’re drunk, and he can’t help but push every button that you have to see how long it takes you to crack.

I’m sure you’ve heard it all before, but it’s new right now. It’s fresh.  I’m not an ugly dyke. I’ve dumped dozens of boys for probably only four or five different reasons, and not one has ever reduced me to Ben & Jerry’s and tears before. I thought that that was a stereotype created to help single fat chicks. Turns out that it applies to not quite fat chicks as well.

The damndest thing, is that feelings make no sense. I come from a family of “Daddy” and “Mummy” with matching Vineyard Vines, and a ‘habit’ for European vacations. Don’t get me wrong, this boy is classy as fuck, but he’s also the ‘fuck authority, smoke weed’ kind of hero. Not exactly what Daddy and Mummy were anticipating.

They say opposites attract. So I suppose that I’m the Tory Burch to his nipple ring.

Or the diet coke to his sprite.

Either way, I adore his shit.

Even probably his literal shit.

The unfortunate part about all of this is that we are stubborn assholes who have the communication skills of an autistic puppy.  Typically lots of nonsensical barking, and one of us always ends up in the doghouse.

I love puppies, so I didn’t want to be mean to him anymore. Also, I was sick of the dog house. Like, at least put me up in the Ritz.

So after a year of love and hate, this is me trying to convince myself that maybe I can have my puppy back. The thing about puppies, is that if their owners suck, the puppies almost always suck. They piss in the house, don’t come when you call them, chase the mailmen… you get it. You can’t love and take care of a puppy if you don’t love and take care of yourself.

No, I’m not his ‘owner’, but he is my puppy, and I owe it to us both to be kinder, happier, and more capable of loving him with every ounce of kibble that I got.

Maybe if I give him more treats, he’ll do more tricks.