Has anyone ever felt like they were being kept a secret before? I have, and it’s terrible.
I’ve been terrible at posting. I keep thinking of all of the things that I need to say, and sometimes it just takes me a while to get my head around them enough to put my thoughts into words.
A few updates, and then a few thoughts on something that has been on my mind lately: how easy it is to become caged by freedom.
So, on dating. I will have a new post soon about someone I met recently. Yes, this person deserves their very own post. But for any consistent readers, everyone referenced in Chapter 47 is long gone. And that definitely includes Prince Eric, who turned out to be quite the asshole. I can’t say that I’m surprised, and thank god that infatuation is over.
What else is new… I got a promotion at work! I feel like quite the badass for being promoted within a year. It makes it feel so worth it to have made the move and made such a big change in my life. Onward and upward!
One of the things that I have cherished in my adult life is the ability to have the freedom to do what I want. Things like uprooting and moving to a new state and starting a new chapter, without having to answer to anyone. But sometimes, I think we can become caged by our freedom.
I think this has happened to me to an extent, and it has definitely impacted who I am. I have focused so much on being free and living a full life that I design, that I’ve subsequently kept people and relationships at arm’s length. It’s only recently that I’ve realized how imprisoning freedom can actually be. Yes, I can pick up and start over at any point, because it’s just me. But at the same time, it’s just me. Staying in the same place through life allows you to build substantial long term relationships, and I haven’t done that. I’ve moved every few years and started over.
On one hand, it’s exhilarating to be able to start anew. You can rebuild who you are. You can learn new experiences. You can challenge yourself to do things you’ve never done before. You can surprise yourself by achieving things that seem so out of reach to so many people. On the other, it’s terrifying. It causes you to isolate yourself. Trust only yourself. Feel alone and like you only have yourself to rely on.
I’m at a point now where I want to be able to really start settling in my life, and stop constantly hunting for this idea of freedom. I want to surround myself with people who challenge me, instead of just putting myself into challenging situations. I want to do the things I’ve never done before by discovering new depths within myself, instead of discovering a new area code. I want to learn to let my guard down and share my achievements with people who care about me.
I will not say that some of these things don’t already happen, because they absolutely do. I am lucky to have a few very good friends and people in my life. I just know that this is something that I can improve on. I can be a stronger, better me by learning to let myself live in a way that doesn’t require me to always seek a new challenge. That’s what is interesting about the idea of escaping the freedom cage. Maybe letting go of the idea of chasing freedom will be the most freeing thing I experience.
Until next time!
Oh, December. The end of the year. The time when people start thinking about new beginnings, making resolutions that they won’t keep, putting on pounds that they won’t shed, and thinking of all the wonderful things to come…that probably won’t.
And, time to reflect on the year that has passed. 2016. Fuck You, 2016.
I’ve had a few rough years lately. I hope that 2017 will be better, but with my luck lately… meh. I got divorced in 2012. I lost my mom in 2013. 2014 was a blur of trying to figure things out. I almost died in 2015.
And in 2016, I went through a lot of shit with people and relocated my entire existence to a new place where I knew very few people and had little to no support system. So, don’t fault me when I say I don’t have high hopes for the new year.
I will say, though, out of all the shit I’ve dealt with in 2016, the one good thing that has come of it is that I’ve really started to learn who I am, and who my true friends are. It’s been very tough to go through this process… harder than you can probably imagine, but, I hope the payoff will be worth it one day. I found my self worth and stopped letting people take advantage of me or lead me on. I stopped saying yes to appease other people and started calling people out when they were being complete dicks. And I’m slowly starting to learn to embrace being alone, since that seems like a thing for me now.
But really, did 2016 suck for anyone else? I feel like my entire Instagram feed is full of posts about drinking to forget everything, how hard it is to adult, and general self loathing? Or are these just the things I’ve subconsciously sought out?
Sorry for the negative post folks…just feeling a bit bitter these days. Woosahhh.
I’m baaaaccckk! This post may be a little lengthy, because I have a lot to say. Also, I know carpe la vie isn’t actually a thing, but it maybe should be.
First, let’s talk about my trip. DR was basically amazing, for several different reasons. It’s a beautiful place, so you can’t really go wrong there.. but I also met some really awesome people. Turns out that wedding crashing has a few perks!
One of the beautiful things about going to a place like the Dominican Republic is the opportunity to completely disconnect. I am admittedly very connected all the time, and I sometimes feel very lost when I don’t have a phone or tablet nearby to stay up to speed on what is going on. In Punta Cana, I was able to step away from that. Ok.. the WiFi sucked ass, so I was partially forced to, but you get the point. I’ve been trying to be better about stepping away from screens, and this was a good opportunity to do that. I didn’t record performances, I didn’t take a shit-ton of selfies (just a moderate ton), and most importantly.. I just focused on the moment.
Okay, it’s maybe a little about boys. Well.. relationships, as always.
I’ve been doing okay with the whole dating thing. I met a guy who actually seems like a really good guy, which I feel like was getting tough and making me extremely bitter towards the whole dating scene. Great, right? Wrong! Have you met me?! I am the queen of overthinking everything, and I can break things so very easily. Sometimes, I even break them on purpose. I’ve mentioned before that I like to push people away. It’s like pushing a glass vase off of a shelf to see if it breaks. Guess what… it does! And then you’re all pissed off because you had this lovely glass vase and now, gone. Shattered. Kaput.
Anyway, I haven’t done this yet with this one, but I have noticed something that I thought was worth writing about.
When my walls come down, theirs go up. I think this is because I start any relationship EXTREMELY guarded, and when I start letting someone in, they get this full 100% blast of Tempest that they maybe didn’t expect and certainly weren’t prepared for. Hence: walls. Like oh shit, this girl has a super strong personality and I don’t know how to human anymore! (They probably aren’t thinking that, but you get the gist…)
The new challenge I am now facing is how do I let enough of my true self shine through in the beginning, without feeling vulnerable and afraid to peek over my very well built and well maintained walls. In theory, I should start breaking some of them down. I know this. But guys, I have worked a LONG time on building these bitches up, the idea of tearing them down is terrifying.
Or could it be that I just haven’t met the right person that can handle the me that is scared, and hides, and is afraid to love, but also the me who is passionate, and brave, and over the top? Can I be allowed to have my walls sometimes, but still have someone see me as me? Is that a thing?
Until next time!
…another one bites the dust.
I’m seriously, VERY..VERY close to getting myself to a nunnery. This dating shit is insanely terrible! The next one isn’t too bad, but, ugh. Read on.
This happens to be the most recent guy that I cut off. This guy, codename “Perv,” was extremely cute… except for this stupid goddamn earring. Like, really really cute..butttt also maybe a douche. But, because I thought he was cute and fun, I tried to overlook a lot of stuff. Until..ugh, I just couldn’t anymore. I’m sure you’re wondering, how did this guy get the name Perv? Letttt me just tell you.
This guy, at 33, had responses to general conversation that went something like this:
Tempest: Hey, just got done with hot yoga!
Perv: Oh, I bet you are soaking wet.
Tempest: Sorry I’ve been quiet, crazy busy at work today.. working on a new project.
Perv: I have a project you can work on.
And so on, and so on.
The strange thing is, this guy was completely normal in person. Funny, maybe even charming, did I mention cute? Very cute. But sweet baby Jesus, I felt like I was talking to a prepubescent teenager half of the time.
The other warning signs? If this guy wasn’t making an inappropriate sex joke, he couldn’t take any joke. I tried joking with him several times, and he would make a passive aggressive or condescending comment. Granted, this was via text, so I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but it got so bad once that I actually called him to clear things up because he responded in such a shitty way. But really, are you 12?
The straw that broke the camels back… apparently homeboy had a little bit of a drinking tendency. Every time I talked to him, he was on the way to the bar, or hungover, or starting to drink again early on. I am not one to judge anyone’s personal preferences, but you are in your 30’s, and it may be time to give that party life a break. What really did it in was when he chose to start his evening at a bar… an evening we were supposed to be meeting up. Instead of going home and changing out of his grungy construction clothes, he was “forced” into going to a bar, and therefore would be late to meet up with me. Yeah no.
By the way, when I told him I wasn’t going to meet up, he proceeded to tell me how put off he was that I decided not to meet up because he had gone out.
Really? Really dude? Do you honestly think that it’s okay to be late for a date because you needed to stop and get a drink?
Nah son. Cheers, I’m out.
another recent fun dating-related story. this one didn’t make it to a date, just a phone conversation after matching on bumble.
I don’t consider myself, in any way, a prude. I enjoy sex, but I’m also not a slut. I think sex forms a connection, and therefore shouldn’t be passed around like candy. Have I had casual sex? Sure. But, at 30, it’s not exactly what I’m looking for.
I matched with this guy online, we are going to call him Jafar, because he’s definitely slightly evil, it’s close to his real name, and he is desperately trying to find a magic carpet for all the Ladieeeeeeesss.
We talk via text for a bit, and decide to talk on the phone. Here, I find out a few fun facts about ole Jafar.
- 36 years old and divorced. Fine, I get it, I’m divorced, and I am prepared for that type of background.
- Actively dating. Sure, cool, me too.
- Actively dating multiple people simultaneously. Again, okay, I’m talking to several people at most times, but once it gets to more of a “dating” scenario I try to keep it to just a few.
- When we say multiple, we mean 5-6 at a time. He likes to keep busy. The red flag starts making an appearance.
- Oh and by dating, we mean dating, and usually sleeping with. Okay. Wait. You’re sleeping with several women at a time? Woah. We need to discuss.
Once that last fact popped up, I told him that we were probably not a good match, because although I will date a few people to figure out if there is a connection, I don’t think its really conducive to finding a healthy relationship if you’re sleeping with several people. Also, it’s gross. I don’t want to fuck who you’re fucking. If I did, I would go fuck them.
He seems cool on the phone. He tries to justify it, saying, it’s easier to filter out who is a good match if he is able to explore the situation both “mentally and physically” instead of taking a lot of time with just one person, and that because he’s older, he doesn’t want to waste time. My counterargument: you can’t really get to know anyone if you’re juggling that many at a time, so really, are you saving time? He was steadfast in his opinion. I said hey, good luck to you man, I still feel that way and it’s really a deal breaker for me, but take care. End of conversation.
….hah! not. These guys can’t handle rejection to save their life.
He starts texting me, telling me how he really is safe with his sex life, and I seem smart and have a good head on my shoulders, and he hopes I will reconsider. He continues to say that he’s very loyal and committed… once he commits. Okay, I’m supposed to wait around while you stick your dick in every girl you meet in the meantime? Nah son. I reinforce what I’ve already said. It’s not something I’m okay with, and I’m not going to pretend to be okay with it just for shits and giggles. I’m staying true to me, end of story.
Then things start to take a turn… the ugly side comes out. Seriously, what is it with guys not being able to accept a “no? these days? He tells me that he’s an honest guy and that I can’t see that, and every guy is really doing this, but he just is open about it. I’m like.. okay, sure, that may be the case but.. STILL. DOESN’T. CHANGE. MY. OPINION.
Now he’s ready to try to make a few personal hits. “You’re smart, but you don’t have any of the other qualities that are important to me. Good luck to you, we are obviously not a fit.”
Oh – so it’s my qualities that are lacking? The ones important to you? What are these qualities you speak of, that y]a 30 minute phone conversation releaved I am missing? Is it weakness? Is that a quality I should have and clearly don’t, because I’m not taking your shit? Promiscuity, for not being thrilled to jump in bed with you?
It’s herpes. This guy is clearly looking for herpes. Good luck with that, Jafar! Pretty sure you’ll have no problem finding that sometime soon.
Let’s take it from the top on some of my most fun Northeastern dating stories
This one actually isn’t too bad, but the situation irritated me enough to make it to my blog! I went out with a guy kind of randomly on Sunday. Yes, I met this person on the internet, and I KNOW I’m a huge hypocrite, having sworn off online dating at least 71,213 times. But, alas, times are hard for a girl with a strong RBF and an three+ inch height advantage. So, online dating it is.
This guy, for the purpose of anonymity, will be called “Mr. Unresponsive.” This is probably one of the least original nicknames I have ever come up with, because this guy is literally that terrible about responding, and that is the only memorable thing I took away from this encounter.
I’m being mean, I actually really enjoyed myself on the date, but because of what happened after the date, I want to kind of be a bitch about it. I’m a woman, so sue me.
Anyway, Mr. Unresponsive started off as a really bad communicator. Now, I know I am over the top with communication in most circumstances, so I do try to be a little forgiving, especially if I don’t really know someone’s communication style. Anyway, this guy wasn’t really giving me much in the initial chat on the app we matched on, and still didn’t give me a whole lot when we eventually moved to texting. But, I went with it. I thought to myself, hey, maybe it’s a good idea to meet someone with this little information and let it come out on the date, right? Wrong. This is a bad idea.
The date started a little rocky. About an hour before the date, I texted him to confirm we were still on (I do not want to drive and get stood up, yknow?) and he says “Yeah”. So about 30 minutes later I let him know I’m leaving. I don’t hear back from him, but that’s okay, I don’t really need a response.
We were meeting in his town, because me, being a motherfucking nice girl, offered to drive closer to him so he could pick his favorite spot. I am new to the area, after all, and like checking out new places. So, I drive to the place he picks which happens to be right smack in the middle of some goddamn festival. Which means, there is no way to actually get TO the place. My GPS is all “turn left, turn left,” and I’m like damnit bitch I literally can’t. So, I pull over and text him. “Hey, I’m having trouble finding a way to get to this place, or finding somewhere to park, suggestions?” Nothing. No response. Mind you, it is now about 7:05, we were meeting at 7, and my last message to him was that I was on my way, which he also never responded to.
So, I call him. Natural reaction, right? No answer. So I start driving again, trying to at least decipher where the place is and what side street I can park on, in the middle of a festival, in the middle of a town that I know nothing about, in the dark, with anxiety levels rising through the roof. I was pretty irritated.
A few minutes later he calls back, as I am just finding a spot. He is pretty unapologetic when I’m like “Wow, you chose the most inconvenient place ever.” Anyway, I park and make my way to the restaurant.
First impression, he’s not a bad looking dude, not my normal type but he’s alright. We sit down, we eat, we talk, things seem to actually go pretty well, all things considered. It started off rough, but at the end, I actually felt like it was pretty good.
The date ends, and I head out. I text him to tell him I made it home, and had a great time and let me know if he would like to do it again sometime. No response.
Next day. No response.
Next day. I send him a message saying “How’s your day going?” I’m erring on the side of bold, because I know this guy is probably trying to ghost, and I’m just gonna put a feeler out. After all, he was a pretty shitty texter to begin with, so I try to give him the benefit of the doubt.
A full goddamn 72 hours later, this guy finally sends something. At this point, I had already written him off as a punk ass bitch for ghosting. His message?
“I had a good time with you, but I didn’t feel a connection, good luck.”
Alright. So at first glance I think, okay, maybe he’s not a bad guy, at least he finally said something and didn’t leave me hanging. But then, I think about it.
I’m sorry, it took you SEVENTY-TWO HOURS to figure this out? You didn’t “feel a connection?” Is there some type of incubation period on connections that I don’t fucking know about? The fuck??
Anyway, it was one date, and definitely not worth any more of my time than I already wasted on this guy, so I just responded “You too, thanks!” Eat a dick. NEXT!
Oh, dating. Dating, dating, dating, how you make me want to throat punch innocent people and steal candy from children. Dating really is the worst. As you may know if you’ve read a few of my posts before, I recently relocated. My stupid ass, as much as I have said I should NOT date, I am very very bad at it… decided to take a swing and go for it.
Guys, it still is a shit show. Dating is SO BAD.
Hopeless, Not Romantic will be your insight into just how bad the dating world is for a 30 year old divorcee. Just how bad men have become these days. Just how sad and miserable it is out here for a pretty decent girl. If you are in a struggling relationship, I implore you, check out Hopeless, Not Romantic…and you will understand how important it is to make the somewhat good ones work. If you are thinking about dating, I implore you, fucking don’t, it’s bad.
I hope that you find my adventures in dating to be amusing, and I look forward to sharing them! Someone really oughta benefit from this dumpster fire that I call a dating life.
I’m writing this from a train, because per C, there is something very literary about writing on a train and I figured I would own it and let the power of the train fuel my creative juices (or something whimsical like that?)
I am coming out of the slump I have been in for the past couple of weeks. The bitterness has definitely subsided and I’m coming to terms with a few things. I’ve also entered a bit of a paradigm shift when it comes to dating.. as in, I’m back off of it for the goal of dating. Hmm.. Let me talk about these things in order before I ramble too much.
The Attack of the Blues:
Moving across the country at 30 years old is REALLY hard. Like, legitimately really hard. It’s emotionally traumatic. I don’t use the word traumatic lightly, if that tells you anything.
I realize a lot of people do this, and I myself have moved several times in my life, but I’ve always had some type of a buffer that I didn’t have on this move. My first “big” move was moving away for college, which I went with my high school best friend and then roommate. The second time was with my ex husband for his job. The third time was leaving my ex husband, so I literally couldn’t get away fast enough, and I also was moving in with a good friend which lessened the blow of moving to a brand new place.
This time, though… this time. I moved for work, and while I do have an amazing job… work is not all that it takes to fulfill you. I know this, and I knew this going in. As much as I was aware of the facts, however, I am also extremely impatient. I am not good at waiting for things to come together… I would much rather them simply fall into place. When they inevitably didn’t, I got more and more frustrated with my situation.
Here’s where this gets a little tougher. I pride myself on my ability to connect with people, and I LOVE being around people. When I enter any kind of slump or get bluesy.. two things happen. 1. I lose my amazing personality and ability to connect, and 2. I push people away (see: push and you’ll find out exactly what I mean). The end result? I’m lonely and grumpy and sad. Blech. Life can really be a bitch sometimes, amirite?
I decided to do something about it. And I thought. A lot. Which led to…
I have realized over the past 4 weeks of being lonely, stressed, sad, disorganized, and a general emotional wreck that I am exceptionally terrible at taking care of my self. Okay, okay… I know I’ve maybe mentioned this before (read: no)… I am a caretaker of others, and I do tend to ignore myself and my needs. But this alone time has really shown me just how much I do that. When the option to take care of others was removed.. I was forced to look at what I do for myself. Which, as it turns out, is very little.
So, I started.
I started to hold myself accountable to doing the things that I want to do.
I started pushing myself outside of my boundaries. I put myself in situations I wouldn’t be comfortable with to meet new friends. I went to a new yoga class. I joined a book club. I put my phone away and read for hours, with no social media or texting to interrupt me. I took myself to the movies (truth be told, I’ve always done that, but hey, it counts).
What I’ve learned through this is my personal obligations for myself are just as important, if not more important, as they are to anyone else. I can take care of me, and doing that feels really good.
With all that said, this comeback is still 100% a work in progress. I have a lot of growing to do before I really can say I completely have my shit together. I’m moving in the right direction though, and that can only mean good things.