pmcray.

Aunt Flow is about to be knocking on my door and although, I have seemed to stop the breakouts from happening (thank you, clarisonic) and most other symptoms that usually proceed her visit, she seems to be toting a lot of emotional baggage this time.
I fought off the strawberry milkshake craving last night with strawberry beer and watched funny shows so I wouldn't find myself crying at anything remotely sad or sweet. I am kind of relieved that I didn't actually gain my weight back, I was so confused how I could've put it on in Vegas when I walked a million miles a day there regardless of the food and beverages I consumed (note to self: move to a city you walk 90% of the time in.) So, I don't feel super shitty physically, but I definitely do emotionally is what I'm trying to say. It's deep in the back of my mind, but reared its ugly ass head this morning for sure.
Yesterday at work, jokes were made about my singleness (everyone's got jokes!) and I genuinely laughed because it was hilarious, but the chemical change in my body caused them to mutate over night apparently.
I JUST wrote about how I'm happy alone, but I wouldn't be keeping it real if I didn't admit that, sometimes, it really does fucking suck. It does. I can admit it.
I'm also really aware that I only have myself to blame on that one. I'm not actively seeking it out, and I really do think that's ok, but when the opportunities do arise, I talk myself out of it.
"oh, he wasn't checking me out, it was the girl behind me." (thank God Bethany and Lindley were behind me last time and said "holy shit, did you see that hot guy checking you out?" "oh, yeah, I did.... He was?" I rode that high for about 3 hours.)
or "he's just talking to me because he thinks I'm cool" (I mean, I am).
"those text messages were all just jokes cause we're cool like that."
"he was just playing with my hair because it's so long and awesome now."
Listen, I don't know how to be single. You have to hit me over the head and hire a sky writer for me to get the signal basically. Otherwise, message not received. I've had a lot of totally platonic guy friends over the years (and, no, not ALL of them are gay) I have an open invitation to the "bro-zone" and that's where I keep my reality.
As much as I like all things girly, I enjoy drinking the whisk and beer and the totally inappropriate joke. I just won't talk sports or watch them with you.
I can talk myself out of ANYTHING, dudes and strawberry milkshakes included. I need to build my ego into a Barney Stinson like monstrosity. I think this is my actual challenge in the year of yes and the badass. I have to stop talking myself out of things when good ones are coming my way.
So, I'll work on being a little more receptive to signals if you'll just meet me half way and be a little more obvious about them, k? Deal.