Updates!

Sorry I haven't been keeping y'all updated, but, there isn't a whole lot to tell, I haven't been dating lately. I can't bring myself to go through the hurt and the disappointment again.

I just don't feel like My Person is out there, and I don't really see the reason to waste my time with men who aren't My True Love and hurt me anyway, ya know?

Instead, I just pick at wounds that I'm trying to heal, and, it won't end well, I am sure. One minute, I feel like I can handle it, I can be strong and it doesn't impact me any longer. And then BAM! I am suddenly right back where I don't want to be. My stomach is doing somersaults and my face gets flushed and I can't wait to see him again.

It's so dumb. I'm certain that person is My Person, I'm certain we are Perfect For Each Other, but, I have to remember the hurt, the bad things he did, the heartbreak he caused. As human nature, we can dull the pain, forget it--much like childbirth I imagine, and focus on the good. The good times, the laugher, the friendship--we remember that. And in these times, these dark times, I remember that, the joy, the bond we shared, and I cling to it. Hoping it can work. Hoping we can get our act together. Hoping beyond hope.

Not able to put that box away, like I thought I did. Unable to close that door. Unsure if I ever will be able to. Holding the hope that someone will make me forget him, forget us, and finally, finally, close that door.

But, we aren't there yet.

Because, after explosions in West, and tornadoes in Oklahoma, he was the only one to reach out and check on me.

He'd seen the news on the Beeb and was worried about me. Which makes it all the worse.

Thanks, for that one, Mother Nature.....

The door won't close.

It was bound to happen...

When I got my heart broken majorly the last time, I turned to online dating (ugh). It wasn't all horrible. I didn't meet the love of my life, but, I went on some dates and it wasn't horrible.

I did, however, have one awful date. Just awful. There aren't really words, other than "awkward, awful, boring, embarrassing, awful". Luckily, that date has just kind of become a joke between myself and my friends.

Weeeeellllll....

Imagine my surprise when this morning I get a message from said man on said dating site introducing himself and saying we should get together.

UM. WE DID. IT WAS MISERABLE.

Y'all. He FORGOT. Forgot we went out! And in one of the pictures on my profile, I am wearing the dress I wore on our date.

Y'all.

And, before you ask, because you will, yes, it is him. With 100% surety. Screenname is the same, the name is the same--it's him.

Oh, lordy. Was not prepared for that.

In other news, I'm going to the animal shelter next week. Picking up about a dozen cats.

The Wedding Date

The other day, I found myself baking cookies, drinking Diet Coke and watching Sex & The City--I really felt I was doing my girl Bridget Jones proud.

Sadly, those moments have happened more and more in the last few weeks, I am struggling--but, what else is new? My point exactly.

I am trying to push those thoughts out of my head, but, truth is, I've just been asked to be the maid of honor in my cousin's wedding this summer--my most beloved cousin, the woman I am named after--her wedding. You know, with family and fancy dresses and everyone seeing me there ALONE.

Mortifying. Very, very mortifying.

And of course, my parents have told me "you can just come with us!" which is true, I could, but, really? No sir. Then comes the whole part that it is a family wedding, so, I don't want to take just A Date, I'd rather take A Boyfriend Type Man Thing, but, how do I find one of those? And then I flash back to thoughts of introducing a certain ex to my family and how he would have fit in perfectly and loved my hilariously insane crew. So, there's that.

But seriously, how does a workaholic, nearly 30, world traveling, yoga teaching gal meet a respectable man? Because I've got no earthly idea.

Fill a sister in!

The thing about trust....

Happy Sunday! Today, all I want to do is sit at a leisurely brunch, eating French toast and chatting with my friends, but, instead I'm holed up at a Starbucks for free WiFi while I wait for my boss to open the studio. It's not as bad as it sounds, really.

This morning, I got to thinking about trust. I am, as anyone would tell you, forever Pollyanna. I believe the good in everyone and everything--no matter how many times I've been burned, I will hold out hope that the goodness will emerge. I slap on a happy face even when I've gotten no sleep and want to cry. My boss pointed out to everyone yesterday that I was Little Miss Optimist. Tis true. I am. It's just a better way to live life, ya know? Happy--even fake happy is better than emo grunge band depressed.

But, it's a real pain in the ass in the dating world.

Let me explain: because of my Suzi Sunshine disposition, I am inclined to believe you when you say things to me. When you say you want to date me and only me, I believe you. When you say you want to run off to Rome with me, I believe you. When we spend every single night together and you tell me you miss me when I'm away--I believe you. I wouldn't say I am gullible (maybe I am), but, when it comes to matters of the heart, I am entirely too trusting.

Even with as burned, battered, and bruised as I am, I still trust, still believe. Because, as dumb as it is, I  hold onto hope. Onto the fact that we can be inclined for good. That people mean what they say. Although every single experience I've had over the last year has been otherwise.

What I need to do, is harden myself. Figure out how to not trust, how to not believe. How to just hear the words and let them slide off me. Not to let them get into my soul and twist me all up inside.

But, how? How do I pretend I don't care? Because y'all, I care. I care about everything. I am empathetic to a leaf on tree for godsakes!

This week, I am making the epic mistake of going to the symphony with an ex, RC, whom, I still haven't told you about because it's still to hard and also, I don't even know what to say. We've remained friends, which, sometimes is great, other times, it's gut wrenchingly horrible and I want to stab myself in the eye because he's a big big jerk who I loved and who has gotten to know sides of me hidden for so long that I can't cut him out of my life because I need someone who knows THAT version of me. Jesus.

And he is  the bastard who doesn't trust, who doesn't believe, who cannot commit. So, basically, I need him to be my Jedi Master.

And also, I need to find a super hot, maybe somewhat slutty dress to wear to the symphony. Very "You Messed Up And Lost This", you know. Oh lawsy mercy, I am an idiot. But, free tickets to the symphony from my former boss? I couldn't say no!!

How do you get over the pain? How do you turn your heart off and stop trusting? How?

Where to begin today?

I have plenty to fill you in on, because I am the queen of when it rains it pours, making all the bad decisions, picking the wrong guys, etc, etc--if it's a cliche, solid chance it applies to me.

I think I'll tell you about Man Who Went Three (Four?) Weeks Without Asking Me On A Second Date.

We had a great first date, talked for hours, two separate restaurants-- the whole nine. Called me three days later, we chatted--good times. Lovely, lovely.

But after I hadn't heard in two weeks, I gave up hope. I mean, I wasn't madly in love with him, so, it wasn't too much of heartbreak, but, still, ya know, I'm freaking adorable, Y U NO CALL ME?!

Finally, three weeks later, he asked me out again. Via text. I hate technology. I was out of town, so, I told him I couldn't see him until the following week. We made plans, it was all nice.

He invited me to a Muse concert--oh my gosh--I was so excited! Here's where things got dicey. We agreed to meet up when I got off work at 5:15, have dinner and then go to the show. Sounds good, right?

So, I didn't hear from him until 6:50. The concert starts at 7. At this point I think I'm being stood up, which, let's be honest for me, wouldn't be a big shock.

When I do hear from him, he's just leaving his house, which is 30 minute away. Can we meet at Such and Such Restaurant? I hate Such and Such Restaurant, but, I figure "sure, we can grab some food". I leave for the place and when I am literally down the street, the text comes that he is running late and it will be another half an hour. It's after 8:30 at this point, and I'm beginning to get annoyed.

When he finally meets me at the place, he tells me we have to go--I have taken a few sips of my Diet Coke I ordered while waiting and am beyond starving at this point--I mean, I assumed I was going to get to eat food tonight. I'm wrong. His friends are in the car (drinking beers, I might add), so, you'll just follow us to the arena? I tell him I spent all my cash on valet, since I was told we were carpooling to the arena. He doesn't offer to take me to an ATM or find a place for me to park or anything. Le sigh.

Boy does not know downtown AT ALL, so, I spend another 30 minutes following he and his probably drunk friends and I'm growing more and more frustrated. I know my way around town, but, am trying to let him be the man here, even though it's been a miserable day waiting for him to call, waiting on him to be late and then, at 9:57PM, he finds one single parking spot, leaving me to drive around even more.

Eventually, knowing I had an 8AM flight to catch the following morning, I called him and said I was going home. He was piiiiiiiised. Which I understand, but, my hell, you say let's have dinner at 5:15 and don't show up until 9PM, no. No. I offered to pay him for the tickets, but explained that I spent the entire evening waiting around on him with very little communication, I had told him I was leaving on an early flight and I had actually hoped to see him. I told him I would like to see him again, when I got back in town.

That was two weeks ago. No word. Not that I am surprised at all, not that I really wanted to see him again anyway (I can't handle this immature, poor communication, drunk friends nonsense), but, at least maybe an acknowledgment of his poor behavior, or something--anything.

And yes, I should have known when we went three weeks without asking me out again, I should have known. Ughhh. This, this my friends is why I am two seconds away from totally giving up. Because really, is this what I am waiting for? If so, I am moving to Austria and becoming a nun. Maybe then I'll marry a captain with seven children. And we'll sing. Duh.

(My Daniel Cleaver to Mr. Darcy ratio is getting out of control. I need to meet a nice boy!)

The kiss off

Tonight I am cuddled up with some brownies watching The Sound of Music--which is my go to movie for everything. It's my happy movie, my "world is falling apart" movie, my "there is a storm outside and I want comfort" movie. Tonight, it is my "passing the time until midnight and I can download Les Miserables onto my computer" movie. Because I will be staying up until midnight to do so and if I am not distracted I will start crying the ugly cry!

Maria solves everything. At least temporarily.

I am really struggling tonight. One of my favorite coworkers, the girl I am probably closest to at my job has had a miserable week, her pregnant little sister was badly injured in a hit and run, so we closed up shop for the night so she could be with her sister, which leaves me home alone yet again. I realize my whiny is nothing compared to what AB and her sister and going through, but, it still sucks.

You see, when I heard we were off tonight I was tres excited because I was meant to see a boy, so I anxiously texted to see if we were still on for dinner.  Welp, it's 8PM and I haven't heard back, so, I'm thinking "no". And I also just ate about a pound of cheese, so, there's that too.

This is the thing--the kiss off. All the men I even look at end up doing this. We have a lovely time together, great few dates--or in some cases, months--and then suddenly, they have fallen off the face of the earth. Which brings me to this? Are men really such giant babies these days that they can't just end things like an adult? Yeah, being dumped sucks ass (trust me, I know, happened recently), but, in the end, it hurts way less than the kiss off. The kiss off is just mean.

I got in a fight with my ex once (after we broke up no less!) and asked him if I was getting the standard "his first name and last name kiss off". He's an expert at the kiss off and I suspect may be tutoring all the other men I meet. Seems to be my lot in life lately. Just the girl all men forget. The girl that isn't worthy of a goodbye. The girl who wasn't interesting or pretty enough for an actual relationship. The girl who isn't anything.

So, as I sit here attempting to hold my head up, I will channel my beloved Maria "besides what you see, I have confidence in me!". If I say it enough, will be be true?

This is my point

Sorry I've been MIA--had a work trip to Denver, then caught a cold and now heading off to DC to run a race. Don't worry, I have plenty to catch you up on, including but not limited to: awkward comments from Starbucks baristas; men who text after a three (four?) week hiatus; stalking Gerard Butler's younger, blonder twin through Denver (no, really, I even tried to snap a picture, but, damn Amanda kept getting her giant purse in my way)......and really cute boys who say they want to see you and only you, but, uh, never actually see you.

Someone go get me a cat. Or like 15 of them. And maybe some knitting supplies..... We are weeks away from Crazy Cat Lady status!

The Brit

Hm. Where to begin today? I should probably break down and tell you about The Brit, shouldn't I?

Oh goodness, it's still so goddamn hard to talk about him. To talk about us. But, time heals all, or whatever, so I might as well suck it up and get it out. Plus, this might help you understand why I am such a nut. 

So, here goes:

For a long time, I was in love with a barricade boy (an actor in Les Mis on the West End for those of y'all who don't speak stagey). He changed my world. He woke me up.  He swept me off my feet. It was one of those things that just happened--he came into my life on a whim, unexpectedly and sudden. It was magical. 

He was, for me, the ultimate. What I had always dreamt of. Oh goodness me. He was tall, dark and handsome, English, stagey and so incredibly talented. I couldn't believe my luck when we formed a friendship and I couldn't sleep at night when we became more, because I felt so, so, lucky. 

I did. And it was life changing. 

What he and I did have was exceedingly special--when it wasn't a hot mess, that is. He was truly the first man in my life to "get" me. He challenged me, he saw and understood the "real me". I was 100% myself with him from day one and we just fit. It was so very Marius and Cossette. I mean, we were just instantly together. Instantly there was an "us". I almost think it was love at first sight. We couldn't stand to be apart once we had met. 

Pretty much what we said when I left for Heathrow after our first date

We understood each other. We joked like old friends, laughed for hours, and talked of running away together--anywhere, so long as we were together. I am not sure if I fell in love with him, London, Les Mis, or all three at once, but, suddenly, he was my barricade boy. I was his, he was mine--completely. My swing, Brujon and occasional Feuilly. My Lovely Lady. Later, my gangster with a bad New York accent running political schemes. 

And then, suddenly,  he was nothing. He was no longer mine in Jesus Christ Superstar, nor in workshops for upcoming tours in Spain--nothing-- we didn't belong to one another any longer. (there was a whole big nasty end, but, we don't need to get into it) (suffice to say, it was the lowest point of my life, the hardest pain I'd ever felt. I wondered if I just "fell" into the subway tracks at the Oxford St station if it would make the pain stop. I remember not being able to breathe and was so jacked up on caffeine because I couldn't sleep that I almost passed out talking to a priest at Westminster Abbey. Really. That happened)

We went from talking almost every single day, to nothing for over a month. It hurt more than I thought it could. He was just going on with his life, and I was here, unable to figure what I did wrong, unable to sort why my dreams were dashed, unable to trust myself or to even get out of bed some days. 

I told myself this was karma, that I didn't really deserve to be happy--to have someone like him in my life. I wasn't worthy of love. I'd scroll through our emails and our texts and cry. He was my perfection, my happiness, my confidant. And he was gone.

Queen's Theatre Les Miserables 2011-2012 cast. He's there, but only I know where. 

Eventually, he reached out to me, and as angry and heartbroken as I was, I couldn't show it. I just told him he was a wanker and we went along with our friendship. It was so weird to not have him call me "baby". As time went on, we become more comfortable again--I remember him teasing me about my Halloween costume and wishing me a "Happy Thanks Giving!x". I still wasn't his, and he wasn't mine. But, we were something. 

I started dating, I couldn't wait forever for him to come to his senses, but, I knew if he ever asked for me back, I'd be there in a second. A milisecond even. 

PREACH, Eponine, preach. 

That day never came. 

When I arrived in England for a few weeks holiday after Christmas, he welcomed me via text, but informed me he was in a relationship. My heart sank. I had a feeling--and I was seeing someone (the man who couldn't commit, fyi who broke up with me right before Valentine's Day), but still, to have our relationship forcibly over like that was hard. I remember not being able to eat my lunch. We made plans to catch up, but being the wanker he is, he cancelled many a time. Until I went all guilt trip on him and we agreed to meet when he got off work one night. 

As my friend and I headed to where he was to meet him, I began to shake and cry. She had to slap me and calm me down. I didn't know what would happen when I saw him. Would I cry? Would I vomit? Could I pull off calm, cool and collected? Was I really as great an actress as I think I am? 

Well, wouldn't ya know it, I walked in, saw him, and felt NOTHING?! No, really, nothing. (I mostly blame the fact that at the time, I was crazy for the guy I was dating at the time)

We hugged, we talked, it was lovely. It was more than lovely, it was almost perfect. We had the best night catching up with the old Les Mis lot, chatting with his flatmate, busting into Tommy Steele songs, and eventually hand jiving at 2am (pretty standard for this group). I haven't laughed so hard since I don't remember when. We then all headed to Balan's for breakfast at 3am.  We cheers-ed to Molly and her graduate school acceptance, we laughed over his inability to drink vodka and inappropriate drink names that he ordered for his friends. 

He harassed me about not seeing his show yet; noticed my nose ring within seconds and poked me in the face most of the night saying "I can't believe you've done and gotten your nose pierced!", we laughed over Les Mis stalkers, and sparkle shoes for Priscilla. 

We hugged many times--he is the best hugger. It was just like it's always been. Our hugs were the same, our jokes the same. He was the same funny, strong willed goofball I fell in love with. He said things to me that made me cry--things that I will hold in my heart forever. 

I saw him in his how the next night and laughed and cried. I am always so proud of him and I loved seeing him and his amazing dance prowess (even if his voice was not highlighted at all), we held hands and walked back to my hotel talking about old times, and when I'm coming back to see him in Priscilla--which will happen, I am sure. 

We laughed over Sondheim DVD's and my love of The Great Race--mostly Jack Lemmon. 

There was talk of Skype dates and we shook on it. A promise to text when I got on the plane the next morning, another hug and we said our goodbyes. I went to my room and cried--a standard London practice for me, but this time, it was happy tears. Happy to have had a night with my best friend. 


Even after heartbreak, I keep returning to him, unable to give up what we had and what I hoped we could have. We've texted a few times since I've been back in the States--including this goddamn gem which stopped me in my tracks. I return to the hope that we can remain friends; that the one person in my life to ever understand me, to ever fully complete and complement me--that he and I are not lost forever. As friends (which is how we started. Amazing friends)

I don't doubt that he did love me, and I don't doubt that we are perfect for each other, but, our love wasn't and isn't perfect, and that's why we can't work. I hope we have found a way we can be involved in each others lives and maintain the friendship I have so desperately missed. (seriously, he's the only person who's more of a stage geek than me) (and he even called me "beautiful" and "svelte" when I saw him last, which of course was a huge ego boost because he's not quite as ripped and in shape as he once was, so, basically, I won that round, New Girlfriend)

Will I ever fully be over him? I hope so. I know everyone tells me when the Right Guy comes along, you forget everything else, you are floored and forever changed--well, the problem is, I thought that's what he was. I can't imagine someone better suited for me, someone I was better suited for. Alas, he and I cannot be, so I hold to the hope that there is another Brujon out there for me. Another Tony. Another Topper. Another man I will love so dearly, who will bring out the best in me and make me feel like only he ever did--only better. 

Because if I don't believe that, what else is there?

Ain't Nobody Got Time For That

Nothing like waking up on a Saturday morning to a find a text message from the love of your life.

Whom you haven't spoken to in a month.

I miss you too, you fucktard. Ball is in your court, homeslice. Grrrrr.  Sort it out!

And then you are so stressed out that you can't eat your breakfast and it's Tuesday and you still haven't heard back from him--because of course you responded. And then you want to cry again.

Ugh.

Men.

So, that happened

The ex husband got married, and then the following week, took his child bride to my church. (seriously, child) (stunningly gorgeous child from what I understand)

I'll let you chew on that for a minute.

Or 17,000 of them. I know I'm still processing it.

I'm officially a First Wife.

I can't make this up.

Stay tuned, I have plenty more to talk about (Men who take pity on me and cook! Running into church friends while you are with your ex at Whole Foods! Liar, liar pants on fire-s! Men who send texts you really don't need!), just been trying to process this nugget for the last week.

It's OK!

Today I am linking up with my pal, Neely for "It's OK Thursday!". We all have those things we do or don't do, right?

Let's share!

It's OK....

1. To have 16 or more different shades of pink lipstick--each shade is different ya know--can't part with any of them!

2. To save documentaries and such to your Netflix queue with no intention of watching them. It just makes me feel smarter.

3. If you only wear fancy pants undies--even just to the gym. Gotta feel sassy!

4. If your treadmill is currently a clothing drying rack. No, just me? Hm.

5. To actually like watching sports. I can talk your ear off about cycling and the whole Lance Armstrong debacle--really.

6. If you must purchase all the new beauty products and not use them. Hypothetically, of course--I mean, I use all of mine duh. ;)

7. To like stupid movies. Hi, I wear a Ron Burgundy shirt on a regular basis.

8. If you buy yourself flowers--lessons from Cher Horowitz and all.

9. To whiten your teeth and then drink coffee--it all balances out in the end. Hopefully.


Those are a few of mine, anything y'all got?

Lies Hollywood Told Us

Even though here at The Bridget Jones Project, we fully believe in happy ever after and in the insane odds of Bridget and Mark, we are still cynics and thus, must lament.

I give you, Lies Hollywood Told Us

1. Bridget gets Mark just as she is. No.

2. Patrick Wilson adores geeky Becky in Morning Glory. Nope, have you seen him? I mean, Becky is played by Rachel McAdams, but, I still have my doubts. 

3. Marius and Cossette. Ok, ok, I can bend a little because I had a very Marius and Cosette relationship, but, um, it ended really, really horrible awful jump off a cliff into a vat of molten hot lava bad, so, um, Cameron Mack, do they really live happily ever after? I mean, once he gets over the guilt of all his friends dying and you know, Eponine sacrificing her life for his and all?

4. Jude Law being a successful single father to adorable little girls. The Holiday, you're one of my favorites, but!

5. The cute redheaded princess gets to chose between Patrick Dempsey and James Marsen. I'm looking at YOU, Enchanted. 

5b. Or, that said redhead is proposed to by adorable Irishman or any sort of adorable accented man. Leap Year kills me a little bit every single time.

6. That men even remotely resembling Tom Hardy exist via online dating sites. They don't, trust me. Dating really does mean war. 

7. Aurelia is proposed to on Christmas and the PM tracks down miss Natalie in the dodgy end--even if Love Actually is my all time favorite non musical movie ever ever, I am fairly certain it has given me a very false sense of reality. 

Yet, even with all my ranting, all the nonsense that Hollywood has thrown in my face, I do still believe. I believe in love--real love, in mad, passionate, will grow old and die together love. In silly, stupid, romantic love and happiness. I don't know when and I don't know where, but I know, somehow, someday, it will happen. 

Or, I'll adopt like 63 cats. I mean, either or. 

The Swede

I should probably tell you about a few of the failed relationships that have led me to this blog, huh? Welp, I'm not quite ready to talk about RC, I'm still in that "want to punch you in the face you big giant asshat" stage, so, um, probably best if we don't talk about him just yet.

Let's discuss the Swede.

Oh my goodness, the Swede. I actually just deleted all his pictures off my phone last week which is so ridiculous because it had been months since we've spoken, but, damn if he wasn't adorable. And no, I will not be sharing said pictures with you. Sorry friends--he is a colossal idiot, but, he deserves his anonymity. I mean, unless you contact me personally and are willing to throw a water balloon at him or something, in which case, let's have a chat. Kidding!

But, in case you're curious, here's what I looked like on our first date.

I mean, he clearly should have fallen madly, head over heels in love with me, right? Yeah, he didn't.

He and I were perfect together and for each other. He's from California (like me!), actually went to my dad's alma mater, surfs, runs marathons and when we met had just finished up Ironman France--I had just run the Madrid Marathon. He's outdoorsy, has a business degree from UCLA, financially stable, the most amazing apartment, musical, has season tickets to the opera..... Shall I continue? I told him I was a singer and on our first date we ended up singing The Phantom of The Opera together while he played his guitar. I can't make this up.

Tall, blonde, tan, blue eyes--solid chance for redheaded babies.

Loves his family--was talking to his brother in SWEDEN when I arrived at the restaurant for our first date.

I was 100% myself with him from day one. He knew about my heartbreak, and I his. He would hold my hand (and kiss me) in public and loved it when I wore flats and was even shorter. He adored my hair and called me "hun".

We had similar interests, knew the same people and just "fit". He'd check on me when out of town for work and send me pictures of my favorite U.S city (Boston) when he had a conference there. I felt like my life had turned a corner, like I had met that someone I'd been looking for all my life. That I'd finally met The One.

Ohhhh, how very, very wrong I was.

He went home for a week to do a triathlon with his brother and then wrap up some client meetings in Los Angeles, where his company is based; we stayed in touch that week, he even checked on me when I was in St. Louis with friends during a tropical storm. I was so anxious to get home and see him. I was even booking a trip to Costa Rica for myself, but made sure to do so at the end of the month so we'd have time together when I got home from Missouri.

When I arrived home, anxious and excited to see him, the first text--yes, I was dumped via text--I received was from him telling me that whilst in California, he had gotten back together with his ex--who, by the way had cheated on him multiple times and left him a broken hearted wreck--and thusly, our relationship was over.

He then proceeded to send me screen shots of his run around the Lake on the route I introduced him to. ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!

Asked if we could remain friends, I said sure--because I am Iris, but, I haven't heard from him since, except one drunken text in October. And now, now, there is the utter irony that he is on Match again and we are a 100% match. And he mentioned his favorite path at the Lake on his profile--you know, the trail that I showed him and WE ran together. This is my actual life, friends. FML.

I can sit here and say all day long that I wish he'd reach out to me again, because I really, really do, I can't imagine a better fit for me than him (well, I can, but, we'll talk about him another time), but do I really want someone who would just up and leave me for a cheating ex? No, no I don't.  I realize they had history and he and I only had a few months to go on, but, still, it's pretty chicken shit.

If I could clone him and remove the whole ditching the gorgeous redhead for the cheating bitch part of his brain, don't get me wrong, I totally, totally would.

I cried for a few days and was brutally broken, having just come off the worst heartbreak of my life not long before I met the Swede (the Brit was the worst heartbreak of my life, fyi) but, lucky for me, I went to Costa Rica, came home and met RC.

Well, maybe not so lucky, but, it helped me get over the Swede. Blessings as nightmares?

I'd like to say "wtf, men?!", but I wholly know that if the Brit asked for me back, I'd be there in a heartbeat--in a heartbeat.

GODDAMN IRIS AND EPONINE YOU ARE BOTH ME

So that my friends, is the story of the Swede who threw away an awesome girl and led her to meet RC who also chucked her and now is writing this here blog, so, maybe you guys send him a fruit basket? Preferably laced with something. KIDDING. I think.

Pretty is as pretty does

And come on, he's just too pretty.


Let's all have a swoon, shall we?

 Eddie Redmayne, my boyfriend.

Oh, and this is my husband, duh.

LOOK, BOTH OF THEM TOGETHER I CAN'T EVEN I DIE

I'm tellin' ya, men are just so much better NOT in America. Miss Jones had that figured out for sure.

Grumpy Valentine's

Happy Valentine's Day, or, as I am calling it Eat Our Feelings Day 2013. Seriously, have you had those frosted sugar cookies from Target? My feelings taste damn good y'all.

Anywhoodle. So, obviously, I am alone on Valentine's Day, which is a dumb holiday and I'm usually annoyed by it when I have someone, but, you know, let's just all bitch and agree that it's ok to do so, yeah?

Doesn't help that I got dumped a week ago. A week ago exactly. A week before Valentine's Day, a week and two days before my ex gets married. And then the fucker kept texting me even though on Sunday he updated his Match profile after saying he was taking a break from dating (which is why he dumped me. Allegedly). FUCKWIT.

Oh, his name is RC. That might be helpful information moving forward.

No, I didn't think he was The One, that he was my Mr. Darcy, but, turns out, I was in love with him and I miss him terribly.Would have been nice to actually been able to call him my boyfriend for a while, ya know.

I'm 0 for 3 right now. Coach, you probably shouldn't put me in.

The last two before RC (the Swede and the Brit respectively), I did think were The One, my Mr. Darcy, my happily ever after on both occasions. They weren't. Luckily, The Brit and I have managed to find a way to be friends (after a lot of fighting, tears and throwing things, I should add), and much like RC (even though I want to cut him) we agree that we love each other but just can't be together. Which is all lovely and good and all, but, I just want someone to love me AND want to be with me.

Harder than it sounds (that's what she said).

So, my dear, sweet lovelies, let us pour a Diet Coke, or a -tini, eat some cookies and be our own Valentine's!

Personally, I'm pretending this man is mine....

xoxo

Forever Iris

The Holiday is one of my favorite movies. I think it's just so sweet and I am a total sucker for Jude Law--and Kate Winslet can do no wrong in my book. And, clearly, England, duh. 

However, sometimes it's very hard for me to watch--I am Iris.

"And then, there's another kind of love: the cruelest kind. The one that almost kills its victims. Its called unrequited love. Of that I am an expert. Most love stories are about people who fall in love with each other. But what about the rest of us? What about our stories, those of us who fall in love alone? We are the victims of the one sided affair. We are the cursed of the loved ones. We are the unloved ones, the walking wounded. The handicapped without the advantage of a great parking space! Yes, you are looking at one such individual. And I have willingly loved that man for over three miserable years! The absolute worst years of my life! The worst Christmas', the worst Birthday's, New Years Eve's brought in by tears and valium. These years that I have been in love have been the darkest days of my life. All because I've been cursed by being in love with a man who does not and will not love me back."-- Iris

All the men in my life tend to end up as my Jasper Bloom. I can't say no, I am too nice, I will always go back, I will bend over backwards, I will send you an opening night care package, a "good luck on your interview!" card, I will allow you to flirt with me and break my heart all over again--I will cry myself to sleep at night--and I will do it again and again if he asks me to. You know, the actual definition of insanity and all. Me, I'm it. I'm insane.

I have this problem where if I ever loved you even for a second, I cannot remove you from my life. So, we stay friends and usually, my little heart holds onto some minuscule little microcosm of hope that things will change, and you will remember what We had and it will be Just Like It Always Was Only Better. Spoiler alert, it doesn't happen.

"Because you're hoping you're wrong. And every time she does something that tells you she's no good, you ignore it. And every time she comes through and suprises you, she wins you over, and you lose that argument with yourself, that she's not for you."--Iris

And so, I am forver Iris. I am the friend, the supporter, the cheerleader even though you ripped my heart out--I can forgive you because guess what? I'm the nicest person you'll ever meet.

It's a real goddamn problem.

Iris: Well, I just wanted to get away from all the people I see all the time!... Well, not all the people... one person. I wanted to get away from one... guy. An ex-boyfriend who just got engaged and forgot to tell me. Arthur: So, he's a schmuck. Iris: As a matter of fact, he is... a huge schmuck. How did you know? Arthur: He let you go. This is not a hard one to figure out. Iris, in the movies we have leading ladies and we have the best friend. You, I can tell, are a leading lady, but for some reason you are behaving like the best friend. Iris: You're so right. You're supposed to be the leading lady of your own life, for god's sake! Arthur, I've been going to a therapist for three years, and she's never explained anything to me that well. That was brilliant. Brutal, but brilliant. 

I already made a No Schmucks in 2013 rule, but, so far, I have broken that rule (in my defense, we started dating in 2012 and I didn't foresee him being a schmuck) (I mean, I should have known).

Maybe I aim for No Schmucks in 2016? 2014 just seems too ambitious ya know?

Right, so, Arthur's lesson was to be the leading lady in her life, how do we do that? How do I, little miss ready to sell her soul and left arm for love, figure out how to be a leading lady? I have no idea, but, I imagine it involves learning to say no to all the Jasper Bloom's of the world and to say yes to what I want. Weird thought.

So, what do I want? Right now, I want to stay up late reading home decor blogs and watching Skyfall in my flannel jammies. What of it?

Alright my leading ladies, what do y'all want to do?

Welcome!

So, hi!

I am starting this blog on request of my friend Jenn (hi, Jenn!), I am going to take a stab at documenting the shitshow that is my dating or (lack of) love life. Y'all are welcome in advance.

Mostly, if you have a relationship, please take a moment to thank your lucky stars and give that person a big huge movie style kiss, cause for the rest of us? Ain't gonna happen.

Despite my no longer spring chicken age, I've yet to find The One. I thought I did on several occasions, but, as we all know, life has a funny way of kicking you in the gut.

So, why am I single? Hell if I would know. Of course, I am fully aware that I am by no means perfect--far from it--but, I like to think I'm something of a catch. There are just literally no fishermen left in this world. Like, at all.

Despite my educated, successful, funny, loves stupid movies and all animals, Pure Barre instructor, yogi, redheaded self, I am, at the end of the day, the man repeller (maybe that should be the title of this blog?). And that, my friends, is why we are here. To document the men I repel (I have plenty of them!), to laugh at the stories and cry over broken hearts.

So, grab a drink (preferably something that ends in "-tini" and buckle up, it's going to be an interesting ride!