I was fucking stoked to be there. Tucked away in the Napa Valley hills, we sat in a grand ballroom at the Meritage Resort and Spa. If it wasn’t for my boss co-sponsoring the event and buying my ticket, I would have had no business being there. Rich women dressed warmly, cozied up in name-brand scarves and coats from their department store of choice (Nordstrom or Bloomingdales, maybe) waiting in line to see their hero. My hero. Elizabeth Gilbert. I stood watching, absorbing their energy as they filled in with coffees or hot tea in hand. I felt completely at ease surrounded by liberal left-wing new-age enthusiasts. While most of the women were in their middle age, these were my people. These were my homegirls. I knew then that I would have no problem opening up during Liz Gilbert’s first-ever writers workshop. I also had no problem dressing the way I wanted to. Again, I was with my people. I felt it was necessary to break out my black cotton-blended man cape. Keep in mind that capes once made Oprah’s Favorite …
Photo by Noemi Gonzalez I have struggled greatly with this my entire life: creating stories I know to be true, no matter how false they may be. In other words, “lying honestly.”
Photo by Noemi Gonzalez. At work a few weeks ago, I shamelessly asked my friend and coworker, Zoe, about a handsome lad she posted on Instagram. She happened to be passing by my desk and soon regretted making eye contact with me.
Last week, I posted nine reasons why I would make a terrible boyfriend. The items listed were accurate but I sure did receive a few text messages from friends saying I was too hard on myself. In an effort to make my friends happy and not completely ruin my mother’s chances of having grandchildren, I decided to share 9 reasons why I think I could possibly (maybe) make a good boyfriend.
In the unlikely event someone would like to take a ride on this train to Hot Mess Central, I thought it would be best to lay out a few of the reasons why it would be wise to hop off this train altogether. Consider yourself warned. Here are 9 reasons why I’d make a terrible boyfriend.
I was nervous as fuck. I didn’t even want to go on this date if I’m being completely honest. His name was Lorenzo and this would be our first time officially meeting. We met on Tinder, which doesn’t sound too credible, but we had five mutual friends on Facebook and he genuinely seemed like an intelligent and humble guy. I forgot to mention he was fucking hot. So hot, that when I showed his picture to a straight friend his response was, “Well, aesthetically speaking, he’s way out of your league.” Perfect. Just what I needed to hear. If being gorgeous wasn’t enough, he’s also a huge supporter of the arts and teaches choir at a high school in Phoenix. Insert crying emoji. Also, let me jump ahead here and let you know that he is half Italian and half Mexican, which is literally such a perfect mix. Also, he speaks both Italian and Spanish. Fucking shoot me right? I couldn’t stand a chance with this guy. I wasn’t even sure why he was so …
I woke up with a heavy feeling in my heart. It’s not that I had been stricken with guilt and madness; I was completely overcome with peace. It was just the part of me that had to say it, the part of me that needed to be released so my heart could let go. My mind had already moved on, ideas spreading around in my head like a summer mister, lubricating my imagination and preparing my creativity to head in a new direction. Today, I was going to quit.
You can call me an optimist, but I like to think I’m just hopeful. I find that losing yourself and finding yourself is one of the greatest human experiences we could ever endure. There’s something about self-awareness that fascinates me so much. You can also call me self-involved, but I like to think I’m just in touch with who I am.
The story begins with a simple blog announcement. I announced on this lovely blog that you’re reading, that I would be posting a story called, “My Summer Fling with Chandler Bing.” The story (which got great hits by the way, thanks for reading! And if you haven’t read it yet click here, lovah) was about my New York City love affair with a boy from Boston. So tell me why I get a phone call from a boy who was clearly pressed and was no way part of my summer in NYC, talking about some ” I saw your announcement for My Summer Fling with Chandler Bing and it better not be about me.”
I wouldn’t say I’ve become more of a bitch, I just refuse to fuck around. Actually scratch that, I’m definitely more of a bitch. A bold bitch to be exact. And that’s good you know, like taking charge, not putting up with bullshit. But prior to this transition, I was just a little bitch boy who was pretty damn pathetic, so much so I would’ve done anything for the one and only Jayden Tucker.