Catch up

I moved… to a different city. I now live with my newly divorced friend, her soon to be 4 year old daughter, and our collective group of pets.

I’m still job hunting. It’s a bummer.

Still unintentionally dating every wolf in sheep’s clothing in a 200km radius.

I’ve lost 25+lbs

My nine year old Golden Retriever has decided he sleeps in my bed now.

I finally died my hair. Those roots really got out of control for a bit there.

Now you’re all caught up.

Theodora Bundy loves her human.

I’m bleeding

For the first time since rejoining the dating meat market at the beginning of January Shark Week has blessed me with its presence. Apparently when you find out the guy you’ve been with 2.5 years moved in with another woman a year ago and they had a baby… all behind your back it causes stress. Sometimes stress can stop your mensural cycle… and in my case for three months.

I took a dollar store pee test a couple weeks ago and got a negative. The possibility of carrying a baby who shared DNA with someone who told me to end my life when he decided he was done with me hasn’t been the loudest anxiety in my head as of late thankfully. Being able to fully remove it from my head though has been the weakest silver lining any shitty situation as ever seen. I’m 98% convinced it’s actually tin foil but hey, beggars can’t be choosers. I’ve been obscenely emotional for a week, my boobs hurt, the lower half of me just aches and I’m bleeding out of my vagina… but on the bright side I won’t be complicating my ex’s little fairy tale ending any more than I already have.

I hung out with a guy a couple weeks ago. The first time was fun. We stayed up all night getting high and playing cards. The second time we sat quietly for and hour and a half watching shit tv until he needed to go to bed at 9:30pm… since then he’s asked to hang out twice but messages during prime booty call hours so I politely declined. I just spent the last 2.5 years being treated like a back burner option by someone I loved. It only makes sense the next guy grab his torch and carry it on right? If I’d learned anything from the last 2.5 years I would delete his number. I’d take that torch and set fire to that bridge myself and not look back. I didn’t though. I sent him a picture in my bra to keep him on my hook. A girl needs options apparently… even if those options aren’t great.

I’m 33 in a week. Almost down to the minute. I have no job. The interview I crushed and was supposed to call two days ago hasn’t. I’m on my period. I’m painfully single but might be able to get dick if I lower my standards. My roots are coming in and the filler in my lips are dissolving. I haven’t left my house in four days and my cats and dog are driving me insane. Things could be a whole lot worse but they could definitely be a whole lot better too. I’m in the middle of a big change and transition is messy as fuck. I don’t really have all the puzzle pieces yet. I think I might have dropped some on the floor and I should probably check the box and make sure I’ve got them all… but hey, at least I got my period!

Poppin’

Does something random ever just pop into your head? Just a random thought, maybe? And sometimes, when one of these random thoughts that pop do as they do… pop, do they ever catch your attention a little? Sometimes some of these poppers aren’t half bad. Every great idea has to come from somewhere, right?

I’ve been having a rough go as of late. I’m fine. It’s fine. Everything is fine. That’s a meme I think. Maybe the dog with that hat and the room is on fire? Maybe? Anyways… I’ve been spiralling mentally as of late. Having a job interview this afternoon, I took today to half ass unplug.

After my interview I did a quick trip out of town to run an errand for my dad. It works out to be a two hour drive time. No texting and driving. Just me, Cora the Corolla, the open road, my Spotify playlist blasting through my shitty speakers. Driving with the music up is my free therapy. I cry a lot in my car. That’s sad, I know. Sometimes a girl has to bawl through a little mayday parade to work through her feelings… and then maybe find 1/2 a joint in her car and stop to mellow out and then be built back up with some new foo fighters… followed by a little WAP to empower her and obviously she has to bring it home by belting out the lyrics to an All Time Low song that’s so old she bought it on CD at HMV in the mall… when it first came out.

I spent the evening with my housemate. We’re both dealing with breakups, hers more recent than mine. She made an incredible dinner, I had a weed gummy while she drank wine, and we binge watched Netflix. Realizing my phone had died brought a feeling of relief and then a sick like feeling when it powered back up.

As I lay in my bed, ridiculously high for a Thursday night, one of these thoughts that pop happened to pop. If Bridget Jones was Canadian and was living out her thirties in 2021 it would look a heck of a lot like my current existence. I have a roommate but who can afford to live solo in this market? I don’t drink wine and I do like my weed, which is legal now so 2021 Canadian upgrade. I, however, am single and in my thirties, make terrible choices with men, have some solid friends, am a little chubby but cute, and am so unapologetically me. I’m dating, or trying too, in a pandemic. I’m job hunting. My mental health combined with the crazy that tends to find me has created what I’d like to think is a decent sense of humour.

I had wanted to use my vibe to round off my day of self care…. but my cat curled up on top of me and I didn’t want to move her sweet little face. I am in a place in my life where the comfort of my cat takes priority over my sexual needs. I used to blog, what seemed like a life time ago. A friend recently encouraged me to jump back into it. So, thanks to thoughts that pop and cat lady life, we’re taking a chance and putting it out there.

Here we go…