It’s been like a year since I wrote anything here, I know. I usually hate blogs that break and then come back like oh, I was busy, I know, this and this and this and this but the truth is, broads, I was totally fucking busy.
First I had three jobs.
Then I got a boyfriend.
Then I got a full-time teaching job.
Then I taught 6 classes at once.
But most importantly I got a boyfriend and I was like hold the fucking phone, he probably doesn’t want me to be writing about his dick and sex and stuff like I kind of was when I was single. And, um, also, there’s this thing about him that’s, like, sort of embarrassing. Like the past me would come up on this balcony where I’m smoking and writing and drinking a Modelo and smack the shit out these cheeks.
He’s a writer. Remember when I said I would never ever ever date a writer?
Yeah I’m totally dating one.
Like SUPER DATING ONE TOO.
I have no excuse, either, except to say that I swear to grilled cheezus I didn’t know until I was way invested. Which was also a surprise, because I was doing pretty well on the not-dating-go-away thing for a minute. I feel very feminist when I say I had a couple of one-night stands after first moving here, and I quickly realized I do not like that game. Then I tried the friends-are-the-best kind of sex, and that was okay, but too complicated like right away, which is the stone cold OPPOSITE of what it’s supposed to be.
I spent January alone.
It was pretty cool.
The only thing I really missed about dating someone was Sundays. Sundays are the best best best when you’re in love with someone. Coffee, NPR, a crossword, brunch, Bloody Marys, pajama talk, going back to bed and fucking/talking/napping all afternoon…you just can’t do that alone. Well, one can, but I would look around with the French press in my hand and messy hair in my face and wonder if I could put the calm and beauty of those moments into words for anyone else. I got lonely on those days.
So I got back on OKCupid. I’ve had luck there – I met a woman and had one of the most tender relationships of my life, and I met one of my best friends from there. I talked to a few people, had one fantastic first date that ended in a not super great second date, then I met the current boy.
He’s so clean cut. He’s younger than me. He goes to bars I disliked. He’s younger than me. DID I SAY HE IS YOUNGER THAN ME. I know, I know, but I was like GO HOME KID, YR DRUNK for at least a month. Everything about him was wrong, WRONG, but I stayed at his house the first night we met and I barely ever went home.
I fell in love with him very quickly.
I know he said he was a writer shortly after we met, but I just willfully repressed that information forgot. But as we grew closer, I couldn’t help but remember, because all the stuff that I knew would happen happened. He can be moody. Sensitive. Competitive. Fatalistic. Really giddy and really sad, all in 10 minutes.
All the stuff I didn’t want. All the stuff that must suck about dating me, too.
There are some upsides, though. Shit I didn’t foresee. Like how talkative he is, how he wants to know all the things about all the things. How sweet he is. How he tells me all the things he loves about me in this clear, beautiful detail. How creative and progressive and analytical he is.
I haven’t written in a while, partly because I have been settling into my first real job and that was a huge challenge, but also because I wasn’t sure how to write about him. You can’t use that careless abandon when writing if you really care about how someone will receive it. But another really awesome thing about dating a writer is he understands how badly I want to write like this, and so when I asked if he’d mind if I went back to it, he gave me this look that was like FUCKING DUH and said okay.