| Mar292008 | Man The Fuck Up |
I might be reading too many blogs because somehow I’ve taken on the stereotype of the failed twenty-something that moved to the big city to live out the dreams of Sarah Jessica Parker because my friends tell me, I am such a Carrie. Reading so many female authors has changed my coping mechanisms somewhat.
I had a bad day at work today. It sucked and I was feeling low and lonely. I felt unattractive. On the bus ride home, I listened to Feist and finished my novel. I stormed into the supermarket and bought a tub of ice cream. I sauntered into my apartment and stared at the mostly empty bottle of Cabernet Sauvignon but I decided to stick to the ice cream. Then I slipped into sweat pants and I watched a pre-recorded episode of Top Chef. (Spoilers: Thankfully the lesbian couple did not get broken up and I did not have to reach for the Kleenex.)
And after all that, I was done. I had indulged in my bad feelings and made peace with them.
I snapped out of it and I cleaned up all the crap in my living room that silently encouraged me to retreat to my couch. I put on some Jay-Z and returned my living room to a state that I could be proud of. I flirted with a girl over IM and I put on some going-out clothes, returning my self-esteem to a state that I could be proud of. I went out the door and drove to a party where I knew nobody and I engaged people. I got someone’s digits. And slowly but surely, I felt better about myself.
And it doesn’t hinge around whether girls like me or whether my apartment passes muster. It’s whether I like me. Sometimes I don’t like what I can be but I need to remember that I can surprise myself too.
Also, I am totally getting a red-wine headache now.
| More? |
|