♡ the life of a 25 year old hopeless romantic ♡

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"This song is talking to the person you haven't even met yet. Maybe they're rolling around in the hay with someone else, but they're not as good as you're gonna be. You just have to wait your turn. He's out there, she's out there. They're just learning what to contrast you against."






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because it's been a while: update entry #2.}
Wednesday, June 10, 2015 | 12:15 AM | 0Comment

Internet!

Here comes the second part of my rambling update where I talk about ordinary things that happened in excruciating detail!

So first. My birthday. My odd, exhausting but also mostly uneventful 22nd birthday.

Now. I had planned what I wanted to do on my birthday months in advance. Not down to the very smallest detail of course, but I'm a meticulous person. I like lists, I like organization (except for in some places in my room), and I very much like planning far far ahead. I planned from the beginning that I wanted, during the day on my birthday, to go shopping at some fun stores. Then, for later on in the evening, I wanted to eat at a yummy restaurant and have yummy wine with family and at least my one friend (since Jazz and I weren't really talking around the time of my birthday last year.) and have a generally nice day.

Well. That...didn't exactly happen.

The way things tend to go wrong when you need them to go right, that is what happened on this day. I mean...pretty much everything went wrong. It would've been hilarious if it were on a sitcom and it weren't my life.

One important detail--in my family, we have one car. Let me repeat. One car. As we have had issues with several times before. When your family can only afford one car, let me tell you, it creates lots of problems. For instance, if one family member works full time (my dad) and needs the car pretty much 80% of the time, then going out and getting activities done while they're hogging the car is pretty much impossible (and since we live in the suburbs, walking to places is time consuming and would be like trekking to Mordor and back).

We had arranged ahead with my dad to let us drop him off at work, borrow the car for the day, and go shopping like I had planned. And said plans got pretty much beaten to a pulp and thrown in the trash. As our plans got pushed back, pushed back, and pushed back, and I had begun to lose hope in them even coming around at all, I started to get ready anyway.

The night before, I put my hair up in sock curlers--which I'd done at least 20 times for nights before school, and it had always turned out adorable and neat and super easy to take out and make my hair look like I'd spent 2 hours working on it. Imagine my horror when I take them out of my hair and--lo and behold--my hair turns out AWFUL. Just the frizziest, matted, greasiest-looking mess you could ever imagine.

I had seldom ever had hair as terrible as this before in my life. And it was my BIRTHDAY.

So, a frustrated, frizzy mess, I went upstairs to my mom to complain, all like, "LOOK AT MY HAIR!" And so as she calms me down, she suggests that I use heat (something I rarely do these days anymore) to fix the problem. Reluctantly, I agree, because at that point there was nothing else I could do to fix it.

So I go back down to my basement, go to my bathroom, and as I try to comb through the knots, it seemingly makes the frizziness worse. And I look at the clock and realize how much of my birthday has gone by, and that it's almost dinner time, and I was trying to salvage my hair. Then I start to panic.

Not just any old panic, however. Nope. I just had to pick my birthday to have my first panic attack in a while.

Yup. I hyperventilate. My heart feels like it's trying to beat its' way out of my ribcage. I get dizzy. I sit down on the bathroom floor. I begin to sob hysterically.

Even though part of me knows it's ridiculous and really freaking sad that I'm having a panic attack on my birthday of all days, as always, it's not something I can help. I sit there and try to fix my breathing and cry and think of how it's so fucking sad that I was turning 22 and I couldn't even get out of the house of my own choice on my birthday.

20 minutes later, the attack subsided and I pulled myself together. I flat ironed my hair, did my makeup decently enough but not the way I'd planned to do it originally because I didn't have time now, put on my birthday outfit (a cute black birthday dress I'd bought a month before, my black platform combat boots, and pink Minnie Mouse ears--but I forgot my sweater, and it was windy and chilly outside) and finally it was time to leave.

Throughout all of this mess was also the restaurant mess. My dad failed to tell me before this day that the restaurant I had chosen was too expensive, so I literally had to pull some other restaurant off the top of my head to go to instead. (Red Robin. Yeah. Not so exciting. But my only requirements at this point were 1. food that I liked and 2. alcohol. Which they have. And I needed, especially the second one, after the day I'd had.) And then I had to keep texting Jazz to let her know of all these changes and reschedulings.

I felt awful for putting through all of this, especially the day of, and when it was getting near the time to meet her at the restaurant, I could tell she was getting exasperated and I wondered if she still wanted to come at all--a thought which upset me even more because after not having a friend with me there to celebrate my 21st birthday, having a friend with me on my 22nd birthday meant a lot more than I realized. As soon as we arrived at the restaurant (after making a quick run to a store downtown to get a dress I'd seen there a week earlier, which will be the dress I wear to Jazz's wedding btw) I apologized profusely, telling her that I was embarrassed and would understand if she didn't want to be there.

She took it all in stride, though, and the dinner went mostly okay, especially after I began drinking my sangria and all the edginess and upset melted off.

As we finished dinner, I asked Jazz if she wanted to come over and have some cake, and she agreed. I rode with her in her car on the way over, and during the ride, I vented to her about the woes of that day--excepting the attack I'd had. She doesn't know that I struggle with them, and it's not something I tell people about easily. (I even refrained from writing about them on here for a while. I'll save that for another entry, though.) She understood why I was frustrated, and said I didn't have to apologize. And at that moment, I was so relieved she was there.

When we arrived at our house, we sliced into my delicious birthday cake (chocolate, with light pink and white frosting, strawberry halves on the sides, and 'Happy 22nd Birthday, Sarah!' written in red frosting). We chatted for a bit about different things, planned to go to our favorite pottery painting place soon, and then she left.

Thus was my odd, exhausting but mostly uneventful 22nd birthday.

Thinking about it now just exhausted me mentally all over again, and I'd rather not think about it any more, to be honest. Thank God it's over, Hah.

So now here comes the last big part I need to update on: Jazz.

About a week or a week and a half after my weird birthday, Jazz picked me up and we zipped on over to our hole-in-the-wall cute pottery painting place. She introduced me to the place, and going there is the most relaxing, peaceful experience. (Except for the country music the owner plays. But hey, it's not my business.) If I could, I would spend all my time between there and the library and my favorite bubble tea cafe.

So I painted a cool bowl-mug type thing, and she made a glass jewelry necklace type thing, and enjoyed each other's company without feeling like we need to talk, which I've always liked about Jazz.

Afterwards we drove by Starbucks so I could get a panini and a frappe, because I hadn't eaten and I was starved (also, in a weird moment, inside the cafe, I thought for a moment that I saw Rose there out of the corner of my eye--I'm pretty sure it wasn't her, but it was pretty weird). Then she had a customer's appointment to get to, so she dropped me off back home. It was an overall fun day.

The thing I need to talk about though is this: the wedding.

The impending date seems like it's coming faster and faster. Now it's in approximately a month, when it seems like they just got engaged yesterday. They sent out invitations already, with a prim and neat engagement photo on the inside of it.

On the day we hung out, she confided in me that after the wedding, they might move out-of-state for a job opportunity for her now-fiancee-but-soon-to-be-husband.

Now, don't get me wrong. I'm happy for Jazz. I am. It really seems like she's found something real, and I'm happy for her.

But there's a teeny, tiny, very self centered and selfish part of me that feels like marriage might just force us to grow further apart than we already have. That my last friend here in town is going to have this whole new big married life without me in it, and she'll forget all about me.

So feeling this way, that's probably why the littlest things have bothered me lately--like her not following me back on Instagram when I've been following her for 2 whole months now, and her posts on Facebook about wedding planning and her and her fiancee signing a lease for a house together. Not going to lie, seeing those posts makes me feel...strange.

It's selfish, I know. It has nothing to do with me. It's not my business. She's starting a whole new life now, and it's not that I expect her to stay the same just for me.

But the further into my 20's I get, the more I feel like this big, clueless kid whose old friends are all growing up at the speed of light and my old life is breaking down and fading away faster than I could have ever imagined it would have.

It's scary, you guys. It's scary, uncertain, and it's left me feeling alone and like I've accomplished nothing.

But it's not my place to place those feelings on her. I have to be the happy, supportive friend. Because that's what she needs me to be now.

Maybe she will forget about me. Maybe we will drift further apart. But I don't want to be the bitter bitch who ruined her special day.

I will be here for her as long as she needs me to be.

xo Hopeless Romantic

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Well, it's that time again, isn't it?}
Tuesday, July 10, 2012 | 3:11 PM | 2Comment

Oh, Internet. Can I be straight with you?

It's that time again.

No, not my period, I finished that a few days ago, but thanks for asking. (Period jokes. Funny? Not funny? Gross? Probably the last one.)

Nope. It's that time again when I blog to whine about being single.

I KNOW, I KNOW. Those of you that have been reading my blog for a while are probably so sick of this, and for that I give you my sympathies. Trust me, I'm getting tired of it too. But when you've essentially had a non-stop romantic dry spell for a consecutive 19 years it's hard not to complain at least a little bit.

A few days ago, I had an emotional day. To be fair, I was on the tail end of my period, and my emotions tend to get haywire and the last days of it, so it was to be expected. But still, I felt pretty lousy. I basically went to bed the night before crying and then woke up and started crying some more.

I just kept thinking about how all this time, hell, throughout all of my teenage years until now, I've never ever had a boyfriend. Ever.

Boyfriend? What is that? Is it a sport?? Is it something I can play on a gaming console???

But seriously though. It's like.....I keep looking at all these people around me that have at the very least--at the very least--had one relationship. Everyone. Every single person that I know. Literally. All in different shapes and sizes, different personalities, lifestyles, religions, what have you. They've all been in at least one relationship. And then there's me.

It's not even like I mope around 24/7 always weeping at my singleness and wailing to the heavens "WHY ME?!?" I'd like to think that to people that don't know me very well, I seem to handle it very well, almost like I don't even care. And really, half the time, I don't. Half the time I just think, 'Well yeah, I haven't had a boyfriend, but I'll get one eventually, so who cares? I don't need one right now anyway.'

But then also half of the time, I think about it, I mean really think about it, and just think: 'What did I do to deserve this?'

And it's not that I'm desperate or anything, because if I was truly desperate, I would have just gone for anybody by now. If I were desperate, I would just throw myself at any guy that shows me the slightest bit of attention, whether they were good for me or not.

Hell no, I don't do that. I would never do that. Why? Because I have standards, and I respect myself more than that.

And I'd also like to think that when the time comes for my first relationship, I'll be very cautious about getting into it, because I know how easily I can get hurt. I know it doesn't seem like it from the other side of the computer screen, but I'm really very sensitive. I always have been. I'm better than I used to be, my skin has gotten a lot thicker, but as a kid, if someone even looked at me the wrong way, I would almost start to cry.

I think that's why I really have never initiated any sort of relationship with someone, or have even blatantly shown my interest in someone (besides Phil, that is), because when I'm rejected, I take it very personally. I know that's not the healthy attitude to have with dating, and it can drive a person crazy, but I can't help myself. For me to even muster up the courage to approach someone that way takes so much effort, so much that sometimes I can't even make myself do it, and when that's thrown back in my face, it hurts like hell.

Maybe if I'd ever tried to start anything with anyone, I might have had a boyfriend by now. But something like that is just too risky, too scary to even think about.

And speaking of interest...interest. What does that mean? I don't know anymore.

It's been three years now since I've last had a crush on somebody. Three stinkin' years. I don't even remember what it feels like anymore.

I admit, Drew came close. I thought I was starting to develop some sort of feelings for him, starting, but as soon as he passively rejected me after the ONE date I went on with him, that all went in a fat flaming rocket straight to hell. And even though Phil was the last guy I had a 'crush' on, I'm still hesitant to call it that.

My crush on Phil was never the nervous-to-be-around-him, weak-everytime-I-look-at-him, I-can't-remember-how-to-breathe-properly-when-he-smiles-at-me crush. It was just a "Oh hey, you're kinda cute. Oh you think I'm cute, too? Well then I think I probably like you." kind of thing. Not in the least bit serious, and I'm prone to having serious crushes, so I don't know how that even happened. Plus Phil, as I've learned in the past 3 years since, isn't prone to having anything serious, so I guess I dodged that bullet while I was ahead.

So, yeah. Crushes. What are those? Unless you count celebrity crushes, which most people don't, then I haven't had one of those in a long time. And no one's had one on me, that I know of.


It just..........I can't even explain how it feels. It's one giant falcon kick to the stomach, you know? It doesn't feel good at all, not one little bit, and the pain kind of leaves you breathless. 


It's like....this is how it feels not to be wanted. And I mean really, truly, wanted. For who you are. And I've felt that way for a few people my whole life, but no one's felt that way for me. I don't think there's anything worse in this entire world.


How to remedy this? I honestly have no idea. 


There's online dating, but ever since Drew, that seems to have made things worse. I've since discovered that it's really not for me, and I haven't met anyone on there to convince me otherwise. 


There's also continuing on with life, try to ignore it, and accomplish things in the meantime, only I've been doing that for a long time, and the feeling gets worse with time. And I keep thinking about all the things people around me have experienced that I haven't (in terms of romance). First hand holding. First kiss. First prom date. Sometimes even first love. And it conjures up this unbearable bitterness inside of me.


It's cheesy, I know. But all I want is someone that thinks I'm attractive, and tells me. Someone to call me annoying, cringe-worthy pet names. Someone to hug me just because. Someone to talk to and to ask how I'm doing, because they want to. Someone to kiss me and mean it. Someone to want me. Someone to call me theirs. And someone that I can do all of that for in return. That's all I want. Is that too fucking much to ask for?


I'm only 19, and I know none of that is important right now. I know I don't need a boyfriend, or a relationship. But I want one. For God's sake, JUST ONE. That's all I want right now.

I know it inevitably ends in heartbreak, and I'm still scared of being hurt, but honestly my bitterness right now is overwhelming any of those fears. And I feel like this feeling is worse than heartbreak, because at least with heartbreak I would have known what it feels like to be wanted at some point. I just hate that I haven't experienced this not even once in my whole life, and I'm so sick of feeling this way.

And even if I had a crush right now, and it was unrequited (as always), at least I would know what it feels like to want someone. I don't even have that.

This sounds so dramatic, I'm sorry. But this feeling has just been building up and building up and up and up and at this point I don't know when it'll end.

I haven't even logged onto my OKCupid account lately because even though I'm not desperate, I'm sure as hell getting there. It would be dangerous to even log in while feeling this way, because I might forget my standards altogether and say yes to the first guy that propositions me. (Kidding, I wouldn't. But I would consider it for longer than I care to admit.) I'll stay away from it until I calm down. Or maybe get some therapy.

So, what to do about it? Nothing. As always.

Since I'm so emotional right now I think I'll go write. I always have written better when I'm emotional.

xo Hopeless Romantic 

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