Yes, this is an anonymous relationship blog, but I must touch on this today. Today’s the 17th anniversary of 9/11. I was 17 years old the morning it took place and exactly 17 years have lapsed in a mirror image of time.
Today I came across a great post on Refinery29 today. It was about how the writer’s anxiety worsened when she moved in with her partner. Take a read.
I haven’t written here in a few weeks but let me tell you. MUCH has happened. It looks like I haven’t even covered the Croatia trip. As mentioned, Theo and I were set to visit the Eastern European beach nation a few weeks ago. After three straight weekends of him travelling to Frankfurt, Ibiza and St Tropez consecutively, it was our time to travel. The day before we were scheduled to fly I received a WhatsApp from him: “So, I think we may have a problem”.
Regular readers will know that one of our favourite topics of all time is Sex & the City. And why not? It’s only the greatest (and most relevant) television series in existence. It also just came to my attention that this week is the 20th anniversary of the series premiere. And yet, it remains as relevant in 2018 as it was in 2008.
Years ahead of its time, it offers dozens of sex and dating life lessons all under the guise of “research” for Carrie’s weekly New York Star column. Those brunches, random interviews with her extended social circle and legendary vox pops (RIP) create a multi-layered thesis style plot turning each character’s life into a modern-day anthropological diorama of sorts.
At first I didn’t even notice. Whenever I stayed over at Theo’s there was this chair by my side of the bed with clothes draped over the back. I didn’t touch it. To be honest, I didn’t even process it was there. That was until one day Theo asked me if I wanted the clothes.
Sorry crazies, I haven’t had the chance to write lately. It’s extra annoying because I had a situation with GoDaddy where this site’s account was attached to Blondie’s bank account and they charged her for another year of hosting. She didn’t know what it was and cancelled it. And in order for me to save the site I had to pay the extra year in addition to a massive “bounce” fee. UGH. I should really be writing more to make it worth our while.
It was a nice long weekend. Should have rained the whole time. Didn’t.
In other news, I’m moving. My studio’s rent is going up to a rate that I just can no longer justify. Saw a few one beds. Committed to a very central one for the same rate my current studio is. The only down side is I lose my roof garden and private gym access.
Here’s a philosophical one. We – as in women – need to stop being so hard on ourselves. Let’s embrace the one night stand for what it is. A great time that need not be repeated nor explained. Here’s what led me to this breakthrough.
This post feels like taking a step towards enlightenment.
I’m not being dramatic, but I came to a conclusion about something this past weekend I’ve previously not been able to nail down. Authenticity is one’s greatest virtue.
This is a weird one.
I’m writing this in a Gmail New Message box because I’m at work and don’t want to make it look like I’m slacking. I’m not. It’s a slow day.
I’m not even sure how to start today’s post. Initially I wanted to focus on the fact that the past two “relationships” I’ve been in have ended in ghosting, but I think this theme is far more complex than that.
Merry Christmas Eve, cray-zies.
‘Tis the season for indulging in full-fat everything, letting your muscles atrophy from promising to go to the gym tomorrow and binging on Netflix for 16 hours straight. Too bad you can’t purge that season of Easy. It just doesn’t work like that.