There's a few things about my blog that you should know.
I go by Hopeless Romantic for many reasons, but I guess one of them would be to protect the innocent. I'm not afraid to say what I think, so that also might be another reason. Haha. So, if some person I know irl were to come here and read every single one of my entries, they probably wouldn't know it was me. That's also why I make nicknames up for people I blog about.
I'm probably a lot more different than what most people would expect someone my age to be. Sure, I love clothes and make up and I'm a huge sucker for boybands.
But, I've been told that I have an old soul (Google it). Who knows? Maybe I do, maybe I don't. But please, take me seriously. That is all I ask. I'm a girl who's never been in a relationship before, so I don't throw the word 'love' around like a hot potato.
But I'm bound to have many crushes on the way, so, please enjoy reading about my roller coaster of a life.

Name : Sarah

I'm black, age 23.

Waist length hair, baby face, social anxiety.

Likes: Daydreaming, writing, reading, learning, fashion, eating, movies, all kinds of music, the color pink, kpop/jpop, kdramas/jdramas, the hollow heart emoticon, things that are cute, making people laugh, comic books.

Hates: Spiders, clubbing and or partying, really hot weather, close minded people, bigots, extreme sports.

contact:

email : here.
[NEW]twitter: @xohplssrmntc
follow me on twitter!♡


F.A.Q.

"Where are you from?"
The United States, in the western region of the country. I used to say 'mid-west', but just so you know, I didn't actually know what it meant, and I was using it wrong. Haha.

"Who do you think you are?"
Someone who's scared of everything and who hasn't completely figured out how to live yet.

"If you're so afraid of love, why are you so obsessed with it?"
I still haven't figured that out. But aren't we all?

{ ♡ }

imboycrazy I Wrote This for You. Le Love Gala Darling Caroline Calloway Insta-Memoir
if you'd like to be listed here, let me know!
Next? Next? Next?

Next? Next? Next? Next?

Next? Next? Next? Next?

Happy 2016, Internet.

How has your new year been so far? How has accomplishing your resolutions been going?

As for me, the first three weeks of 2016 have been...unexpectedly up and down.

I'll get to the ups in a minute, but as for the downs...well. Sometimes you gotta get some the downs out of the way, regardless of when. I didn't think that would happen the first two weeks of 2016, but there we go.

I have to say, the passing of Alan Rickman really got to me. It probably sounds ridiculous to some people, but he was one of my favorite actors. I may not have known him personally, but he still felt like family, in a way. Outside of his many roles, he was also a wonderful man. Rest in peace, Alan.



Another down: That big trip I briefly mentioned in my resolutions/holiday entry? Yeah. Not happening.

Turns out that the people I was planning to go with can't go anymore, and that basically made it impossible for me to go, even on my own. (Even if I could travel alone without having a mental breakdown, considering I haven't even been out of my own state in 15 years.) So yeah, that was a bummer.
Basically it was a combination of not having enough financially and personal circumstances. My friend felt really guilty about it, but it was partly my fault too.

I was really upset at first. The first day afterwards, I just let myself wallow and have a mental health day.

The next two days after that, though? HOLY MOLY. (Ups, here we come!!)

Literally the day I took a mental health day off, in the middle of the day, the most unexpected thing happened. So unexpected that I jolted up in my seat when it happened.



Internet...I may have a date coming up.

BUT WAIT. LET'S BACK UP. Beep beep beep.

I haven't told you about this guy yet. This is a little roller coastery in itself, so hang on tight.

I matched with this guy on Tinder back at the end of November. Let's call him 'Amad'.

When we first matched, I kinda flipped out, and for a few reasons. One being that he is...very attractive. Dresses well, fantastic hair, super handsome face, and actually knows how to take good selfies. Very important things. But there's one other thing.

He's 19.

Internet, you guys should know. I never go for younger guys. Never never never. (Well, okay, except for Brennan, kinda. He was a year younger than me. And Ricky Bobby, too, I guess. He was a year and a half younger. But those are the only exceptions!!!1) The grand majority of guys that I tend to get into are older than me.

This guy...is not. Not even close.

Can you picture me sweating nervously? Because I am. Profusely.

He's not just younger than me. He's technically still a teenager. And the only reason I swiped right is because I thought there was no way he would ever swipe right on me, due to our age difference and the fact that he is fine as hell and I am NOT.

Also, his family owns a popular chain of restaurants in our city. And he's a filmmaker. Can you spell o-u-t o-f m-y l-e-a-g-u-e? Even though he's younger than me he could quite literally get anyone he wanted. And I tend to avoid guys like that. Usually. Except for this time, when I apparently lost my mind.

At first I wanted to unmatch him and flee as fast as I possibly could. And I actually fully intended to. And then...I forgot. And then I followed him on Instagram, and he followed me back.

Whoops. So much for fleeing.

And as it turns out, I regretted the Instagram follow at first. After he approved me follow request and thereby gave me free reign to snoop, I snooped, snooped hard...and regretted it.

Of course, at first I had enjoyed looking at all of his selfies and clever captions and such. And then it happened--I opened up a picture from about a year and a half ago, and in the caption? A racial slur.

Sickness in the pit of my stomach, I clicked through a few more, heading back further in time. Found another racial slur. And another one. By then, I was thoroughly disgusted. To be honest, I was crushed.

Sometimes Internet, you hope and hope that a person you 'meet' is decent and kind, and then their social media accounts just destroy everything you had hoped in a matter of seconds. Here I was, hoping I had found an awesome guy (albeit young, but if he had a great personality I would definitely overlook his age), and then getting so immensely insulted and disappointed.



Deciding that he wasn't even worth any of my attention anymore, I left his Instagram feed and didn't think about him for another two weeks.

Unfortunately for me that was not the end of things.

After we had passively liked a few of each others' pictures back and forth for a week or so, he finally messaged me on Tinder and gave me his number, telling me to text him sometime.

I promptly freaked out. I hadn't wanted to even think about him again, let alone even actually talk to him. And he wasn't supposed to want to talk to me! That was the (unspoken, completely made up in my head) agreement we had!
I agonized over it all day, then, with a huge amount of trepidation and doubt, decided to text him that evening (several hours after he had given me his number). Kept it simple and straight forward. 'Hey, this is Sarah from Tinder.' Neutral and safe.

I waited. And waited. Waited more. Waited for days.

And....

No answer.

INTERNET. I WAS ENRAGED.

After deciding to give this little creep a second chance and give him the benefit of the doubt after what I had seen him say from a few years ago, which I never do, HE BLEW ME OFF.

AHHHHHHHH.



So I decided that from then on, unless he interacted with me first, he didn't exist to me. So long, fetus boy.

This was maybe two weeks before Christmas, and it worked well for a while, I'll give myself some credit. He would like some of my pictures on Instagram. I wouldn't even offer a thank you like in return, the way I usually did. All he got from me was radio static.

Finally, when he had liked maybe six of my pictures straight without any in return from me, I liked one back, hoping that would pacify him and he would leave me alone. (I realize how ridiculous all this is. Passive aggressive millennial social interaction at its' finest. Bleh,)

Plus I could not figure out for the LIFE of me how he could like several of my pictures and yet not have the decency to reply to 1 simple text message. Are we reaching that point in society now? Is texting going extinct now, too? Or is it just this toolbag? (Toolbag is also what I changed his name to in my phone.)

I continued to passively and sparingly like a picture of his now and then, and meanwhile he liked all of my newest ones. I maintained an air of indifference, even though I couldn't freakin' figure out why he could do all this but not answer a text.

Then it came. The day I was taking a mental health day.

Lo and behold, the Boy Who Did Not Know How to Text slid into my Instagram DMs.

Not only that, but he sent a picture of himself, and a message underneath that said, "You're gorgeous! (heart eyes emoji)"

Yep.

Called me gorgeous. With a heart eyes emoji.

AFTER NOT ANSWERING MY TEXT BEFORE. Which I was positive meant that he had 0% interest in me.

The second this happened, I was sitting on the couch next to my mom. And when I opened it, I nearly shot out of my seat. I had to try very hard to act like nothing had happened and I wasn't inwardly panicking. I had spent all day being sad, and now this was happening.

I took 45 minutes to excuse myself, pull myself together, and finally scrounge up a response.

I answered, "Wow haha, thank you. You're pretty gorgeous yourself (winking emoji)" Looking back, I feel that the winking emoji was too much, but oh well. Can't take it back now, can I? Besides, I have no clue how to flirt, so I at least get points for trying, right?

At one point, I was terrified that he was going to ignore me again and I had stuck my neck out for the third time only to be burned.

But thankfully, some time later, maybe half an hour later, he responded with something I had been expecting even less than the first message. "Let me buy you lunch sometime."

FREAK OUT #2.



Internet...I was having every emotion one person could probably feel at once without spontaneously combusting.

First, I was in disbelief. The fetus was asking me out? How? What? Huh? Why? WHAT?

Second, I was confused. I still hadn't forgotten what I had seen on his Instagram, and it still made me angry. But I tried hard to remember who I was at age 19. I was a very different person than I am now. I've learned a lot about people and the world since then. So why couldn't he, too? If it ever came up again after getting to know him, maybe I could sit him down and explain to him why it was wrong.

Also, I was confused about him being interested in me. Truth be told, this happens everytime someone shows any interest in me, even if I'm not interested in them.

I think it's the part of me inside that might always live in middle school/high school, when no guys outright expressed interest in me at all (except for Phil, but whole other can of worms, ugh) and it made me feel sad and even more insecure than I already was (which was a ton to begin with).

Sometimes I even talk myself out of it. I'll think, no, they're probably not interested in me like that. They probably only want to get in my pants. (That's my most often used excuse.)

But...there it was. If I gave him a real chance, his name wouldn't be Fetus Boy. It wouldn't be Toolbag. His name is Amad. And Amad was asking me out.

I still had the smallest amounts of doubts. But then I remembered how I felt at exactly this time a whole year ago. (See entry how do emotions work, anyway? (scary epiphanies are scary.) and prepare for some intense emotions.) I was miserable with my own regrets of the past. And I had decided that from this year on, I didn't want to have regrets anymore. That I wanted to give things a chance and maybe regret them afterwards but not regret not doing them and never knowing.

So I replied to Amad and said, "Sure, that sounds good. Let me know."



I agreed to a date with a 19 y/o. What did I do, Internet? WHAT DID I DO.

It's been a week since that happened, and considering the casual, non-committal nature of our plans, who knows when they'll actually be solidified and turned into a real first date, IF that even happens. But I said yes, so that's something I'll just have to deal with, I suppose. Wish me luck.

Along with that huge or not huge thing that may-or-may-not be happening, I have one more Up for you: I (possibly) have my first clients as a real honest to goodness dog sitter.

I met them a few days ago, a nice couple with a cute little furry baby. She's excitable, and energetic, but she's cute and friendly. I really REALLY hope this works out, because she would be an absolute joy to watch. And she and my dog get along well, which was a huge relief. (Also, since this was my first meeting with a potential client, my anxiety all day was through the roof. But it went well, so I'm very happy with it either way.)

It's still up in the air so far, but let's hope this all works out for the best!

I'll keep you updated on both fronts Internet. 2016 is off at full speed ahead already.

xo Hopeless Romantic

Labels: amad, job stuff, new stuff going on, sarah flipping a shit but what else is new, social media, tinder

Hey, Internet! Belated Happy Holidays!

I hope all of you guys had magical (or if not magical, at least decent?) holidays this month. You deserve it after the helluva year you've had.

As for me, Christmas this year was peaceful.

Financially, things have still been tight, as the
y have been all year this year. So instead of exchanging presents this year, my folks and I decided to have good food and good company for Christmas instead.

Delicious food, annual homemade cookies (which we decorated), good movies, and for me, a brand new tradition: I found an amazing mulled wine recipe and made it in the crock pot. Holy freakin' crap. Amazing. SO GOOD. I had to restrain myself from drinking all of it on my own, lest I subject myself to a merry Christmas hangover.

But before the holiday actually came, I found myself...in a slight dilemma.

Nothing too major, nothing even that big of a deal. But for me, it was pretty embarrassing.

You see, there's this phenomena that happens at this time of year that I like to call the Christmas Crazies.

I only more recently came up with this name for it, but I've written about it before. See this entry "Dodged that bullet."

Christmas couples, Christmas crazies, whatever you want to call it...it's a phenom. A phenom that I hate. And yet it affects me all the same.

Around this time of year, I get this inexplicable yearning. 

I don't know if it's the mushy corny cheesy Hallmark holiday movies I watch every year on an infinite loop (probably a huge contributing factor, not going to lie), or if it's my favorite classic Christmas songs which happen to be romantic in nature (All I Want for Christmas is You, Last Christmas, Christmas (Baby Please Come Home)), or if it's the cold weather making me want to snuggle up in my pajamas with someone.

But man. Without fail. I get more sentimental, definitely. But I also yearn. For who? Anybody? I don't know. But the older I get, it's gotten worse.

Last year, unfortunately, I got the Yearnings for R*cky B*bby. (Censored because I promised I'd stop blogging about him. Hah.) But all of my nostalgia craze was just starting this time last year, so that was why. Also last year, I had my first and last date with Brennan after months of resisting meeting him in person at all. It's safe to say the Christmas Yearnings had gotten to me, and that was why I had decided to say yes to a snowy Christmas Eve Eve coffee date.

This year, I got them for...I don't know. Everybody?

I'm telling you Internet. The Christmas Crazies this year were on steroids. One minute I was feeling relaxed and unworried about any and all boys, the next minute I was talking to 4--LITERALLY 4--different guys from Tinder at once. 3 days before Christmas.

And before you guys get all Judgey McJudger at me, this is unheard of for me. When I do start talking to a guy, I just talk to that guy and that guy only. This is to keep me from feeling overwhelmed.

However, this time I just...I don't know, guys. I think I had a nervous breakdown, or something. Or maybe the romance in the air had me a little overwhelmed and I got a bit right-swipe happy.

Either way, I got four new matches 3 days before Christmas, and all 4 of them started talking to me at once.

Deciding that I was in the mood to talk to some people, I answered them all. And my dilemma began.

Thankfully, conversations with two of them tapered off after two hours or so. But the other two persisted into the next day.

1 of them asked me out right off the bat from the first day we talked, which was a red flag for me. I told him that I was busy, but I would think about it and talk to him later. So the next day, we began talking some more, and conversation was nice, so I was seriously considering maybe hanging out with him sometime.

As we talked that day, he followed me on Instagram (my IG is connected to my Tinder profile). Seeing that he did, I went to follow him back, His account was private, but that didn't seem out of the ordinary to me. I sent a follow request and went about my day, still talking to him casually.

He accepted my request about 30 mins later, so I went to look at his Instagram. I noticed a lot of travel pictures, which was cool. But then I noticed something peculiar--the pictures I saw of him throughout his feed looked NOTHING like the pictures he had on Tinder.

I even scrolled down to the bottom of his Instagram feed--the oldest pictures were from three years ago, and yet the pictures of him from then still weren't anything like his Tinder pictures.

At first I was positive this guy was a Catfish, so I got all prepared to tell him off. Then when I went back to his Tinder profile once more, I realized--the pictures on his Tinder were of him, but they were years old. Like, way older than three years old. Possibly 5 years or more. College pictures, and he very clearly was long out of college (27 years old).

And our conversation was getting increasingly creepy. He kept making sexual remarks, kept asking sexual questions, and began persisting over and over again that we should date.

Obviously, I was way creeped out at this point. So I decided to let him down easy, block him on both apps, and get the heck out of that situation.

Predictably, he took it badly, even though I had calmly made an excuse about not having the time to date anybody at the moment. I was fortunate enough not to have him call me names or harass me further than the typical 'Well, why not? Why are you even on here, then?' And then thankfully he did me the favor of blocking me on both apps instead of me having to do it.

So, yeah. Yikes.

If anything, all that experience did was remind me why I hate Tinder in the first place. I haven't been back on since.

As for the other guy, he was nice enough, at least compared to that other guy. Cute too, but way out of my league. (He plays college basketball, and he's been on ESPN. Why did he even want to talk to me in the first place? No idea.) We exchanged Snapchat usernames, snapped back and forth for 2 days (just face snaps, nothing crazy), and then stopped talking but have been passively watching each other's snap stories ever since. Ah, romance.

(He's never gonna talk to me again.)

So, in conclusion: the Christmas Crazies got to me again this year. But at least I didn't go any terrible dates, especially not with that one wacko. Two conversations were enough for me.

IN OTHER NEWS: 2016. Coming up fast as hell.

And for me, big changes are coming with the New Year.

The biggest and most important change: a job. I GOT ONE. TECHNICALLY.

After all that job applying for years, and yielding no results, I decided to do this differently. Take a different approach. Because obviously what I was doing was not working at all for me, and you know. Definition of insanity and all that.

So, I decided to do some research on modern ways to make money. And I stumbled upon this article about just that. Some things it listed were becoming an Uber driver, becoming a nanny or babysitter, and then--once I spotted it, it felt like I struck gold--becoming a pet sitter.

DING DING DING.

An important thing about me, internet: I love animals. I love animals so, so much. I connect with animals. Especially pets. Especially dogs. And so when I found a website specifically dedicated to finding dog sitters, I immediately went to their application page to become a sitter. And after a little work filling it out, getting a testimonial from a family member written for my profile, and getting a background check done, I was cleared. My application was approved.

Y'all. I have a job.

LET ME REPEAT. I HAVE A JOB.

Sure, it's a self employment job. But it's run through this website, and involves self promotion. I can do that. Hell, I'm a Millenial. I was born for the age of social media.

It'll take a lot of hard work, and a lot of cute messy pups to watch, but I can do it. I've pet sat before, and it was easy and fun. (Plus, an option like this makes way more sense for me than babysitting. Kids are too much for me to handle on my own at the moment. I prefer furbabies.)

So...come January, I'll be starting as soon as I possibly can. I'll start promoting this week, and hopefully come the first week of January, I'll have my first customer.

I'm anxious to start, because I have a very important trip to save up for in February. Said trip would probably be life changing, and be a turning point for my life. (But more on that later!)

And after that event, I would continue to work so I could save up money to go back to college, and some other very VERY important things as well that would make my 2016 a turning point in my life.

These are more than just my same old resolutions for New Years. I'm going to make absolute sure that 2016 will be a very different year for me. But in a good way. In a great way. It's in my hands. It's my life. I have to make it happen. Nobody is stopping me but me.

Change that I've needed for a long time is coming.



Internet, let's hope this self-push coming at me fast in 2016 is just what I needed to do for myself. (And let's hope that those Christmas Crazies stay away from me next year.)

Once again, Happy Holidays to all of you, and Happy New Year! See you all next year! (Ugh, I know, I'm sorry. Why did I make that joke? Why?! I'll show myself out.)

xo Hopeless Romantic

Labels: brennan, change, christmas 2015, christmas crazies, new year, resolutions, tinder

Internet!! Happy belated October!

It's been a little while since I've updated. How have things been for you guys?

As for me, things have been pretty good.
BULLETPOINT TIME.

• I succeeded in getting my futon, and my little main/living room is now a great success. My futon is comfortable, cozy, and makes the whole room look better. My basement is not just my basement now--it's my own little apartment! The one thing I still have to get is my cute little microwave, but it's only $59, so I'll get it in no time. Which is good, because I'll need it in time for hot cocoa season, which has not yet started here. (It's weirdly warm right now. And in October, of all times. What the hell?!) 
• I've been doing fun autumn activities with the fam, including a hot air balloon festival and a harvest festival, which included a petting zoo and a pumpkin patch. Now I've got a 20 pound real pumpkin to go with my 4 fake pumpkin decorations, hahaha. I haven't done those things in years, and I'm so happy I've gotten to do them again.
• Speaking of decorations...soooo many decorations. One thing that I think may be an indicator of me growing up is this huge sudden interest in decorating. Holy hell, I LOVE DECORATING. Especially seasonal decorating. I've been buying fall and Halloween decorations left and right, which I never used to care about before. And lately, I've been saving up already for Christmas decorations, which I'm going to start buying this weekend while they're on sale. Yes, I'm buying Christmas decorations in October. Yes, I am 1000% aware that I'm crazy. But at THOSE prices? Hell yeah, I'm buying them. Come the 2nd week of November, my little apartment will be a pastel winter wonderland. *snap snap*
• I've been applying to jobs, which has been of course, unsuccessful as usual. But at least it helps me feel like I'm not doing nothing.
• After 2 stints of having my baby cousins over at our house overnight (babysitting reasons) I am once again reminded about how glad I am that we don't live with them anymore. Soooooooooooo glad. (During the first stint, the stress in the house was so great that for a day afterwards I had stress-induced heart palpitations. Yeah. Yikes.)

Labels: babies and marriage?!?, change, growing up, halloween, jazz, johnny, life, online dating, tinder

Hey Internet!

Yes, I am alive. After my big writing challenge month, I needed some time to unwind and let the soreness leave my hands. (Seriously, I wrote 50,000 words in a month. My hands were SCREAMING.)

So! To keep things a little simpler, let me utilize some bullet points to let you know what's been going on lately.

I:

• Finished the writing challenge successfully, with 50,000 words accomplished
• Felt super jazzed and excited, then a little dumbfounded for a couple days after I finished--kinda like, "Welp. I finished this big giant thing, What now?"
• Began editing the first draft I wrote
• Thought about Jazz's wedding a little more, realized her and her hubs have been having weekend grillouts in their backyard that I knew nothing about and wasn't invited to. Oh.
• Began saving up money for my first official piece of furniture in my main/living room, which will enable me to finally use that room more than I have for the year and a half I've been in this house. (A futon. Next will be a microwave. Movie/k-drama nights will be upgraded by 1000. Can you say a comfy seat curled up with blanket, some popcorn, hot cocoa, or bowl ramen? And in my own living room! Woo!)
• Also started thinking more about the Brennan thing, then started...feeling...bad? Yep. And a little sad.
• Got some bad news about school and had to deal with the emotional aftermath.

Labels: brennan, college, disappointment, fear, jazz, okcupid, social media

So, Internet. Ricky Bobby.

It's been a little while since I posted my painfully honest, really humbling and terrifying letter.

Writing that letter, along with the totally raw post I made in January (where I basically finally admitted to myself and to you guys where my mental state was in high school when he moved back), honestly...it felt like ripping back open old wounds. It was that painful for me.

And yet, they were completely necessary. I don't know why it took me nearly 5 years to be able to do it, but I'm glad that I eventually arrived there. Late honesty is at least better than holding onto the lie.

In the months since writing it, I have very slowly began to feel better about all of these regrets. And even though in the end, I decided not to send the letter to him, just getting it there--out in existence, out of my brain--relieved some of the worries and upset about it.

So. These past few months, I've been going about my business. Taking things day by day, focusing on my health, writing my ass off (if you follow me on Twitter, you'll know what I mean).

This month, I've been preoccupied with writing a lot and also pre-friends'-wedding-jitters (why was I so nervous? It wasn't even my wedding! Sheesh!) So I had barely enough time to think about anything else.

But.

The day before Jazz's birthday, it was Ricky Bobby's birthday.

I got the notification for it, right there on Facebook. And to be honest, I already knew about it. I mean...of course I would remember his birthday.

After talking about it with one of my friends (the same friend that advised against me sending the letter), we decided an innocent birthday wall post couldn't hurt. Everyone does that, right? Even if you're not close to that person anymore, it's still nice to wish them happy birthday. I do that for some people I haven't even talked to in years. Some people I went to school with did that for me too, and I didn't find it strange or awkward, I actually thought it was nice.

So. After a small period of panic, typing, backspacing, typing, backspacing again, looking at his FB page and sweating profusely, and typing again, I finally decided to post on his wall.

It was small, unassuming, unimposing, polite. "happy birthday, ricky bobby! i hope you've been doing well."

That's all.

No, "happy birtHDAYI'M SORRY I WAS SUCH A BITCH TO YOU".

No, "happy birthday!!!! god I really miss you sometimes!!!! I've been thinking about you for months!!!!!!!! Sometimes I think about you for so long that I send myself into an absolutely miserable downward spiral!!!!!!!!!! Why the hell didn't I date you?!?! HOPE UR GOOD".

No, "happy bir--did you ever actually like me, at any point?? Or were you even interested in me that way??? Did I ruin my chances with you??? Did I make you hate me forever???? Do you not even give a single shit about me anymore???????"

Nope.

Even though I strongly want to say all of those things to him, it's hit me now that I may never will. And you know what? Maybe I'll just have to live with that. Maybe I wouldn't want to know the response to those things, anyway.

So, I'm sure you want to know how he responded.

He didn't.

Looking at Ricky Bobby's history with social media websites and how he uses them, this wasn't a surprise to me. No reply, not even a like.

It stung a little bit, but you know what? Maybe in a way, that was an answer to all of the questions that plagued my mind the past half a year.

Not responding to my mild attempt at social courtesy, to which other people would probably at least respond with a like(which says yes, I see your reaching out to me, and I appreciate it)...somehow, no response said more than a polite response would have ever said.

If he had even liked that I reached out to him, he would have responded in some way, right? So maybe he didn't like that wall post of mine. Maybe he didn't like that I was speaking to him for the first time in 4 years after blocking him, unblocking him and adding him as a friend again and acting like nothing ever happened. Completely understandable and justified that he would feel that way. It's not that I was even expecting a particularly warm response, either, after the way that I acted.

It's clear that my reaching out was unwelcome. And somehow, finding out this way is easier to take.

Imagine if I actually had sent that letter to him. Imagine the response that would have gotten.
To be truthful, if it had received no response at all, like this had, it would have been like a stab in an old scar for me. It would've felt like one gigantic, final, end-all-be-all rejection of my heart and everything that I felt for him, balled up and thrown in the trash like my letter probably would have been.

So, that's it now. It's time to stop. No more.

I had my regrets, worries, and fears, and for the most part, they've all been answered now. It's time I move on for real now. For good.

He'll become a part of my past that I stop revisiting, a Facebook friend I never talk to anymore, just keep them in my friend's list for the sake of knowing how they're doing. That's enough for me now, just knowing he's doing okay.

I need to stop revisiting him, need to stop trying to bring him back into my life when it's clear that he's not meant to be there anymore. And that's perfectly all right. That's what happens when you grow up.

Maybe Ricky Bobby was my first (unrequited) love. I created this entire blog that testifies to that very possibility.

People don't always get together with or stay together with their first loves, I'd say they rarely ever do. But people do get over their first loves. Maybe it takes them years and years and years, but they do eventually. Maybe they'll always have a teeny tiny piece of their heart. Maybe Ricky Bobby will always be unknowingly carrying around a tiny piece of my heart with him. That's okay.

And that doesn't mean I need to be with him. I never will be with him. And that's okay, too. I realize that now.

These last endless months of dangerous nostalgic feelings may have partly been so severe because, with the wedding of one of my closest friends, now more than ever I have had to face the fact that my life is different now.
I am not the same girl I was in high school, though I may feel that way sometimes. I've changed in so many ways, and the people I used to know have too. Their personalities, their wants, their needs, their entire lives. And so has mine.

The Ricky Bobby I used to know, the Ricky Bobby of my lovely, cherished memories, is gone now. Living his new life. Wanting different things than 8th grade and 11th grade Ricky Bobby wanted. And the 11th grade Sarah of his memories, if he ever stops to revisit them, is gone too.

It's time to live my new life, too. Without getting dragged back by nostalgia and all my memories. I can still cherish the memories, but I need to leave them in the past for good now. Where they belong.



One more thing I want to write down, before I stop blogging about Ricky Bobby for a very long time, possibly (and hopefully) forever, is this:

During these months of self inflicted, nostalgia fueled torment, I decided to revisit Ricky Bobby's old band in high school, the one he was lead singer of before he moved back to my state and they replaced him with another singer.

Well. Wouldn't you know it, Internet. They were signed to a major indie label, and they're becoming popular. Popular as in, SXSW performances two years in a row, touring worldwide, performance at a big music festival in New York this year with huge mainstream artists, interviews with Rolling Stone, along with raving Rolling Stone reviews, interviews in Interview mag, Nylon mag, performances on late night talk shows on TV--that popular.

Yeah. I KNOW. Crazy, right??

They're certainly quite the sensation (I can't name them, for the sake of protecting identities and all that), and the lead singer they replaced Ricky Bobby with is certainly talented, especially for his age. (Though he sounds just like a few other bluegrass/soul influenced rock vocalists of the same genre...just my opinion, though.) But when I was catching up on this band, upon visiting their Wikipedia page...I noticed something. You know that 'past members' section that a lot of bands have on their Wiki page, if they have any past members of the group? They had only one past member listed there, one of the original members that formed the group in high school. And no Ricky Bobby.

I also noticed that in their interviews, when they talked about the formation of the band, they never mentioned him, either. Never even mention that the band had an old singer.

I specifically remember them crediting Ricky Bobby as an old member on their (now gone) Myspace Music page and their Facebook page a while ago. Now they don't. They don't even have record of their old songs with his voice in them, no online proof that they ever even existed (though that may have something to do with copyrights and record label stuff).

Now. Honestly, Internet. If I was a part of a band at some point, even a really successful band, as they're becoming...I would want that credit. Even if it were just a couple words. An acknowledgement that I was a part of that band and I had a hand in creating it. And it seemed wrong to me that they weren't doing that for him anymore, especially when he deserved it.

So. Call me crazy, go on ahead. But I decided to do something about it.

Their official Facebook and website I couldn't do anything about, but their Wikipedia page, I could. So I did. On the spot, I made a Wikipedia account, with some random username that I would never use ever again, and I edited that Wiki page.

I added Ricky Bobby's name to that Wiki page under 'Past Members'. Where he deserved to be. And if anyone every takes it off, I'll put it back on again.

For me, it was...I don't know. The last nice thing I could do for Ricky Bobby, even though he'll never know that it was me. Something nice that I could do after the way that I treated him. A permanent mark on the Internet, symbolizing the permanent mark he left in my life.

Or even an official goodbye, the one we never got to have.

This is it, Internet. This is my goodbye to Ricky Bobby. For real this time.



Speaking of goodbyes and movings on, and non Ricky Bobby things, here's someone I haven't talked about in a while: Brennan.

So, last week, for the first time in a while, I got a snapchat from him. (Thankfully not of his cat this time. Did I talk about his cat snapchats here? I swear, there was at least 3 every week for 2 months straight.) I was surprised to see it, especially since after my icing out of him, he seemed to have finally given up.

After seeing that he also kept looking at all of my Snapchat stories, I decided to snoop around to see how he was doing lately.

We're not Facebook friends, but since we have a mutual friend (a girl I went to elementary school with), he shows up in my recommended friends all the time. So I snoop his page, and guess what?

Brennan has a girlfriend.

Yup.

He moved on pretty fast. It seems to have been pretty recent (they weren't dating earlier this year) and deciding to be creepy, I went onto her FB page to snoop. She's cute, and seems nice. Is a super anime fan like he is (cosplays and everything) and is a gamer as well. And together, they take super cute dates to the zoo and to parks and other super duper cute shit.

Not going to lie to you, Internet, I was a teeny bit jealous at first. And then I remembered that it was me who didn't want to date him in the first place, and me who wasn't even attracted to him, and me who ignored all his invitations to hang and all his friendly messages and cute (and ok, excessive) cat snapchats like an ice cold bitch.

I was just salty at first because how many freaking times does this make now that I almost date someone and then they turn around date someone else right after me?? But this time it is 100% my fault, which I acknowledge and fully own up to, so I digress.

So, getting over my petty jealousy, I decided I was happy for him for finding a nice girl. Who didn't ignore him, like me. Who clearly had more in common with him than me.

Congrats, Brennan and Girlfriend. Have a nice relationship. I promise I'll keep my bitter jealousy far away from the both of you.

So, Internet, I'll be over here, continuing to write my ass off, finishing this 31 day writing challenge, and moving on with my life. I'm very slowly starting to learn how that works.

Wish me luck.

xo Hopeless Romantic

Labels: brennan, goodbyes, ricky bobby, well thats the end of that

Internet. The day I had been so nervously waiting upon with mixed feelings has finally happened.

The closer this day has gotten, the faster the days seemed to go.

As (some of) you might know, I've been participating in the summer edition of NaNoWriMo (national novel writing month). Which means that every day of July, I've been writing my ass off. At the end of July, I will hopefully have a completed full first draft of a story on my hands, which will make the second full, novel-length story I have completed just this year. (WOW.)

So far this month, I've been typing away at my laptop. And between all that typing and plotting and such, I've been thinking about this wedding.

Earlier this month, Jazz has visited twice. Once as a just-dropping-in kinda thing, and another the next week to give my mom a haircut (she's an officially liscensed hair stylist now. So proud of her.) The two visits put some things to rest that I'd been worried about the past couple of months.

The first one: she's definitely not moving. Her and her fiancee (now husband, but I'll get to that in a second, whew!) have bought their first house and have moved in already, and are getting things together in their new house. She even mentioned that after the wedding, we could hang out more. Which meant a LOT.

And the second one: She told me that I was the only person from our old school that she invited to the wedding. The ONLY ONE. She didn't even invite Colbie, who she's drifted away from the past couple of years and then permanently cut herself off from early this year when the aforementioned girl got MARRIED two months after calling off another wedding with a completely different guy, which she had originally asked Jazz to be a part of and made her buy an expensive bridesmaid's dress and everything, yikes. (I hadn't even known Colbie had gotten married! Me and Jazz were pretty tight with her in middle school, and she and Jazz were even closer in high school, so it's totally crazy that she would treat Jazz that way. The girl is nutso.)

Anyway, that told me that she really did value me as a friend, and that I wasn't just some obligation, or something. My worries about being left behind were put to rest.

The day she cut my mom's hair was her birthday. She came in the morning, and I wasn't feeling too hot (monthly gift), but I had written her a handwritten birthday letter.

Basically, the summarized gist of it (because I didn't keep record of exactly what I said, and dammit I should have) said, "Your 21st year will probably be the most important year of your life so far. There will be a lot of changes in your life this year, but I'm certain that if anyone can handle them, you can. Some changes I may not be able to relate to, but that doesn't matter. You're still my friend. I know that I don't act like it sometimes, but our friendship is important to me. I'm trying my best to work on that, though. I hope that no matter what changes we both go through, we'll still be here for each other and remember how important our friendship is. Happy Birthday. See you at your wedding!"

It was basically the simplified version of how I've been feeling, but she seemed to really love it. I hope she did.

So, back to the big day!!

In the days leading up to it, I took extra good care of my skin and hair, wanting to look good for pictures that might come back to haunt me in 10 years (HAH). That morning, I got up extra early to shave my legs, check the results of the sleeping mask I wore as I slept to get plump, flawless glowing skin (a great success!), do my makeup and hair, and I wore the pink dress that I got at that boutique downtown for my birthday.

Me and my parents headed over to the venue, which was a gorgeous, outdoor garden, with gazebos, fountains, statues, flowers, string lights, butterflies and lush green trees. The whole place was straight out of a fairytale book. They offered guests water and coffee upon entering, along with cute pamphlets for the wedding that had a crossword puzzle on the back with facts about the bride and groom.

After talking to Jazz's father (and giving him a hug of course), who was jittery but happy, we went to go find seats.

Determining which angle I would get the best pictures from (after Jazz told me her wedding would have an official hashtag for Instagram, I told her "I'm gonna Instagram this wedding like it's my job."), we sat. After a while of waiting, (and swatting flies with my pamphlet) it was time.

Her sister (her only bridesmaid) walked down the aisle, the groomsman came down the aisle, and then the music for the Jazz started as she came out in her beautiful white dress.

It's kind of strange, I didn't cry that much. Before, I was positive that I would be a wreck during the entire thing, but I wasn't. I only teared up once during the entire ceremony. My mom cried more than me, actually. Thinking back, aside from snapping pictures of all the important moments--her dad walking her down the aisle, her and her husband standing at the podium together holding hands, their first kiss together as man and wife--the whole thing feels like a dream.

I watched in a daze, half wondering if I was imagining the whole thing. In fact, looking back now, I'm crying more.

Even during the brunch reception, seeing them sign the certificate didn't make me cry. I didn't even cry during their first dance, although I enjoyed it and got a perfect, 15 second instavideo of it. (They danced to We Found Love by Ed Sheeran.) I didn't cry during the toasts, either.

It just hadn't hit me, I think. I can be that way with big life events, I'm learning--when something big happens, it doesn't fully hit me until much later. I watched one of the best friends I've ever had get married. I went to her wedding. Jazz has a husband now.

Speaking of their first dance, during it, I got a special surprise.

After taking my short instavid, I was standing there watching them dance when someone tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Sarah?"

Turning, I was facing my middle school nurse, Mrs. R*.

Some background here: Mrs. R was not just the middle school nurse. To me and Jazz, and several other girls at the school, she was a counselor. She was a friend. Our middle school years were our most tumultuous, and when things got really bad, we went to the nurse's office. Not just when we were sick, or when we were injured or didn't feel good. We went there for emotional counseling. Friend drama? Mrs. R had advice. Boy troubles? Mrs. R always had boy advice. Trouble at home? Mrs. R had advice and a shoulder to cry on.

She's probably the single reason that I made it through middle school in one piece. She's the reason I made it through all my Ricky Bobby troubles in the eighth grade, plus all of my other troubles. (I talked to her about him all the time. I remember right around when I realized how much I liked him, I was in her office one day during lunch, and I told her, verbatim, "Mrs. R, I just...I like him so so much. What am I gonna do?")

So, as you can imagine, seeing her was an enormous welcome surprise. I hugged her and squealed (she's shorter than me. Me, who's shorter than everybody.) and we talked for a little bit. She asked how I'm doing, and even though that's always an awkward question for me to answer (because I never know how to answer it. How am I doing, anyway? Am I good? Am I not? And why would I say if I wasn't?) I told her I was doing all right, and that I've been taking things one day at a time. I asked how she was doing, and she told me she doesn't work at the school anymore, and just works part time now. We talked for a little more, and then I told her that me and my parents were just about to leave, but that it was so nice to see her again (Looking back, I think I kind of seemed like I was in a rush to leave, and I feel bad about that. Damn social deficiencies.)

Talking to her again for the first time since middle school really was the cherry on top of an already nice day.

Before leaving, I went over to Jazz to give her a hug and say congratulations again (the first time was earlier in the reception, where I also forced her to take a selfie with me HAH), telling her goodbye and that I love her and that I kept my promise to post to Instagram with her hashtag. (Can you believe I was the only one at that wedding that used the hashtag? THE ONLY ONE. I saw lots of phones out at that wedding, how was I the only one?? But from the looks of it, my pics were the best ones--my brand new phone's high res. camera, crystal clear zoom and cute filters? Pfffft. No question, mine were definitely the best.)

Walking out of that fairytale wedding was just as surreal as walking into it.

I'm still in a daze about it all, although it may be finally hitting me now, somewhat. Seeing Jazz update her relationship status on Facebook may be part of it (from 'in a relationship' to 'married'. Whoa.). When she changes her last name there, it may hit me even more. When I got to their house for the first time, my head just might explode.

One thing for sure, though, is that I feel so grateful that I was able to be even a small part of this major event in her life.

After seeing them together, and seeing how happy she was, I can't believe I ever even questioned her choice. I can see now that this was a good decision, and that they're made for each other. Sometimes I'm such a cynic that it's hard for me to believe that other people could actually be happy together, and genuinely want to spend their whole lives together.

Maybe it's hard for me to believe sometimes because I haven't experienced a relationship at all, let alone that kind of love. I have no idea what that feels like. But seeing Jazz get married, I think I finally have a teeny little hope somewhere inside of me that someday, I could be lucky enough to.

This Hopeless Romantic has gained back some of the romantic inside of her after this wedding.

Congratulations, Jazz. All the best to you and your new husband. As you step forward in this new phase of your life, I'll be here, cheering you on, for as long as I possibly can.

xo Hopeless Romantic

Labels: adulthood, babies and marriage?!?, blast from the past, growing up, jazz, weddings

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

Labels: babies and marriage?!?, birthday, bitterness, growing up, jazz, sarah flipping a shit but what else is new, updates

present me past me