relationships

“It’s Time To Trust My Instincts, Close My Eyes & Leap! It’s Time To Try Defying Gravity”: New Year, Old Challenges

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Today’s Mood Ingredients: Determined, Fearful, Obstinate, Risky, Adventurous.

Happy New Year! It’s taken me the past 10 days of January to decide if I was even going to make any resolutions this year. I, along with many of you I presume, am notorious for making a resolution & promptly forgetting it ever existed pretty much within the same week. This year I decided to “trick” myself. I’ve never broken a promise to someone, but I always shatter the ones I make to myself with some excuse or another. However, if challenged..by anyone, including myself..for better or worse, I rise to the occasion. Therefore, for 2018 I made those pesky little resolutions, but I’m going to take them as challenges & hopefully gain even more insight & clarity into what kind of a person I want to evolve into. So, here we go:

I. Anxiety: My very own version of a “Dark Lord” (you know I can’t go too long without an HP reference). This is my biggest struggle. I am plagued by this never-ending sense of abject terror when it comes to my family & them either being hurt or lost to me. My creative imagination (a bane & a boon, depending on when it acts up) goes from zero to catastrophe before I have any chance to try & make some sort of logical sense of any situation. The scenarios I’ve come up with in the midst of an anxiety attack are truly capable of earning quite a few creative writing prizes (or of getting me committed with a straitjacket, but I choose to see the positive – it’s new)! I’ve taken this challenge upon many times before, but this is the year that I’m finally truly fully focused on my mental health. Anxiety can be crippling, & my goal is to not only to keep it at bay this year, but to get a handle on this shitty thing once & for all. Goals: Write in a journal (not like Dear Diary, I like this boy), meditate more (Tibetan monks chanting playlist on YouTube, though!), think things through with a little more logic & actual thought (more Sudoku, less Word Search), & a little less death & destruction. I’m gonna be anxiety’s Avada Kedavra (sorry, last one).

II. Diet: Yeah, yeah, we all have this one. Mine is not to lose weight, it is to stop being internally toxic. Going to have to swap the daily Doritos & Taco Bell & never-ending pasta bowls for kale chips & quinoa this year so that my genetic tendency for “35-children-at-a-time bearing hips” does not come into fruition any time soon..or ever. Also cutting out liquor in 2018. I hate how it feels the day of, the day after, & I can’t be taking shots of anything that isn’t wheatgrass anymore. HOWEVER, touch my beer & lose a hand! 😛 Soda’s gone by the wayside & therefore my waistline is going to do the same. Goals: Meal prep (Can I pay someone to do this for me?), H20 toxicity (the new “chug chug chug!), & more green shit that isn’t a jalapeño pepper.

III: Friendships: This one is the hardest. I’ve spent my entire life being a Golden Girl (I prefer Sophia – sarcastic & scrappy) & in that, I’ve constantly gone out of my way to do/be the friend who will pull out all the stops for a friendship. My nickname is “Doormat,” & I’m way over being the base for muddy prints. I’m slowly learning to (& recommending to) remove toxic & “taker” friendships from my life. The energy it requires to keep people around just because you’ve been friends for years is taxing & unnecessary. I prefer a symbiotic relationship with the people that I spend my time & heart on (don’t be gross) & that doesn’t necessarily mean that I need to “get” something out of the other person, but someone else doing at least half of the advice-giving/taking interest is really the key to my healthy 2018 right now. Goals: “You may hate me but it ain’t no lie, baby, bye bye bye.”

IV: Relationships: A lot of the above, but maybe actually put time & effort into finding a long-term homie to hang with. Goals: Re-title my online dating app folder on my phone from “Painful” to something slightly more positive. 😛

V: Fear: Just face it. Look that beast in its beady little eyes & be my actual self before experiences & relationships & the darker parts of life dulled my innate fighting spirit. Goals: Do things that scare me (for me, that’s like not calling my mom the whole day or something). :O

VI: Creative Integrity: For all of the paths I’ve taken in my life, professionally or personally, I’ve always only had one true ambition; to be happy & content by living creatively. More than that, to extend my creativity outwards, rather than keeping it in its tiny bubble that no one else can experience but me. This is my year. This is the year that I post about something or say something to someone or articulate an idea & follow through. Not just think about it & “try” to do it & fail for whatever reason be it lack of time, support, or any other excuse. Uphold my creative integrity & see how far I can fly. Goals: Don’t talk about it, be about it.

VII: Positivity: Goes hand in hand with number 1. I’m a natural-born pessimist trying to transform into my brother. That sounds weirder than it is. He’s this ball of possibility & positivity, kind of like The Secret spit up all over him. I’m more like Eeyore meets Daria meets Chuckie (the Rugrats one, not the creepy psycho doll one) trying to be Olaf meets Happy dwarf meets Dory. I’m a true believer in you get what you put out into the universe, so I’m going to actively make it a point to do some drugs. JKJKJKJKKK..I’m going to actively make it a point to change my negative mindset so that I want to hang out with my mind more often. Goals: Think happy thoughts.

I truly have no idea how much of this I’ll be able to have success with, but if I don’t challenge myself now, then I know I’m going to become this old complacent lady with nothing to show for myself but mediocrity & that’s just a longtime fear that I’m not willing to realize. Wishing you all a kick ass 2018..full of lots of Netflix bingeing, granola eating, juice cleansing, booty shaking, fear facing, goal fulfilling insanity.

See ya on the flip side, y’all.

Today’s Interlude: 

Would you hold my hand..if I saw you in heaven? I’ll find my way through night & day..beyond the door, there’s peace I’m sure: A Love Letter

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Today’s Mood Ingredients: Angry, Heartbroken, Lost, Relieved.

True Life: I Don’t Process Grief. I pretend nothing ever happened & run to take care of the person who may have been affected the most, and then one day, I feel personally victimized by the Regina Georges of the Kübler-Ross Model & explode all over my nearests & dearests. Here is a hopeful attempt at not having that happen this time around..mostly thanks to my “baby” brother’s influence. “Just write it out”..the Shiv Vaishnav version of UNK. This isn’t for clicks, likes, or shares. This is for my family..& for all of my hearts that are hurting right now as much as I am.

My Ba’s (grandma) letters were legendary. Coveted hot commodities that the whole family would earnestly hope to receive when there happened to be a big event in their lives. The only reason I have ever thought of rushing to get married was so that I could get one of those handwritten scrolls of love, advice, and strength from my best girl. Now, she’s gone..& it’s time that I wrote a love letter to her instead.

Dear Ba aka My Miss Universe,

I’m mad at you. You weren’t supposed to leave me..ever. The educated part of me seems to have disappeared because all I can think of is that you were supposed to be way past chronological aging and live longer than even me. Back to back strokes at 88 and you were up and writing and walking and feeding your crows. Triple hip fracture surgery at 92 and off you were strolling around Gamdevi like you were still 80. You spoiled us; I selfishly thought you were indestructible & that no one would dare take you away from me. 100 was so close & I had already planned everything we would do together for that big day 6 years from now. And then you left more than 6 years too early. And then you left without me. And I’m mad at you.

Married nearly pre-pubescent in a time where women were uneducated, timid, and there solely for procreation, you did more than give birth to 6 children. You taught those children the importance of character, dignity, self-respect, & especially a sense of humor. You taught them the difference between truth and falsities, you gave them principles, you taught them empathy, you showed them how to live with honor. You educated those children, you disciplined those children, you taught them how to be open-minded and open-armed to one and all, and you gave those children unconditional love that I’m sure I’ve seen in every mother, but just somehow not like your special magical kind. And those children have passed along the priceless lessons to theirs and those kids to theirs and so on. You have a strength and a will power I have never seen in my entire life and I’ve been blessed this whole time to be able to feel it and witness it and have pride in it. And I’m mad at you.

You taught me how to not be afraid of fear. You taught me that a woman could do anything with the iron will that you made so infamous in our world. You showed me that tenacity and a pure heart are all you need to get through this life. You made me see that action is greater than intention. You expressed the unbreakable bond between a mother and her daughter and gave me the gift of having that particular relationship with both you and my own momma. You showed me that freedom of speech is more than okay, that it is necessary in this life. You allowed me to see that respect is earned by the life you live and the unselfish deeds you do. And I’m mad at you.

You sang to me more sweetly and with more talent than Lata Mangeshkar ever could. You held my hand when I slept next to you in a single room with a ceiling fan; you being willing to turn on the AC for me even though you knew you’d need extra chaadars (sheets) for yourself. You stood over a hot stove at odd hours because your grandkids wanted only your thepla, no one else’s. You gave me a miniature Hanuman Chalisa because I told you I was suddenly afraid of flying but I’d do anything to traverse the 10,000 miles to see you & to this day, when I’m on a plane I pretend that Hanumanji is holding the plane up & leading it safely to its destination. You told me that marriage isn’t the be-all and end-all because in the words of Beyoncé, “All the women who independent throw ya hands up at me.” (you said that part a little differently than I wrote it just now).  You also told me that I deserve love because I have the capacity to give love..and that’s all you really need (that, and a non-ass significant other). 😛 You tried to read the English headlines of The Times of India while I tried to read the Gujarati headlines of Garvi Gujarat and we both succeeded because we are both stubborn and persistent and obsessed with learning new things. You made sure you lit the deevo (lamp) every time I left Bombay for protection and for safe travels. You knowingly let me walk into a flying cockroach because you thought it would be the most hilarious thing, and it was..to you. And I can still hear that jingly giggle as you watched 17-year old me flail about in abject terror, you mischievous child in a geriatric body. You let me play in your saris..the one I still sleep with..the one I made sure always stayed with your fragrance still lingering within the threads of the feather-light fabric. The sari that used to comfort me for the past decade & a half..the same one that now half-comforts me and half-tortures me as of this week. And I’m still mad at you.

I feel like Voldemort. Like my soul has been torn into multiple pieces, but without the darkness or the whole immortality situation..& definitely not on purpose. You always had blind faith in your Kanha that he would lead you where you needed to be and where you would be peaceful..& you left me and mom during Ganeshotsav..so I’m kinda mad at Them all right now too, for tainting mom’s favorite time of the year. But I must get by and “move on”..at least that’s what they tell me. I think what I’m going to do instead is just listen to your voice in my head over the past 3 & a half decades..& be confident and safe in the fact that you will lead me to the place of acceptance without the anger or bitterness of losing one of my best friends in this universe. I’m a little less mad at you.

You loved me like I love you..limitless-ly, abundantly, inimitably. You have finally been granted your last wish over the past few years..to be yourself again; free, independent, strong, and angelic. Your legacy is something that will last long after my own last breath because all of your 6 children, 14 grandchildren, and 18 great-grandchildren and so on will make sure that no one in any lifetime forgets Ramaben Chimanlal Gandhi, and more than that, no one will ever tarnish this future lifeline that you have built. I miss you more than I can express in any possible medium, and your Krishna only knows when I will be able to return to Bombay again, let alone to your home and your room. But all I can give you now is this..

I love you immensely, Miss Universe. In this and every other life..past, present, & future. And..

I could never be mad at you.

Love,

Siddhi

Today’s Wisdom: “No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear. I am not afraid, but the sensation is like being afraid. At other times it feels like being mildly drunk, or concussed. There is a sort of invisible blanket between the world & me. I find it hard to take in what anyone says. Or perhaps, hard to want to take it in. It is so uninteresting. Yet I want the others to be about me. I dread the moments when the house is empty. If only they would talk to one another & not to me.” -C.S. Lewis

Today’s Interlude:

 

 

 

What Is Love? Baby, Don’t Hurt Me: Re-Learning Romantic Love

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      ImageToday’s Mood Ingredients: Fearful, Hopeful, Independent, Open.

I’ve been single for 7 years. SEVEN. I haven’t been lonely for any of them, & it’s not for lack of interested parties or for lack of halfhearted attempts. I always figured I was single for this long because I was making a lot of changes in my life, switching careers, getting life in order, reconnecting with friends, etc. It was only a few months ago (apparently I’m slow on the uptake) that I realized the real reason why I’m single & never ready to mingle. Fear. It’s not a fear of commitment because I’m the most freakishly committed girlfriend you could ever have. Definitely not a fear of monogamy because cheaters makes me homicidal (in a good way?). Somehow, unbeknownst to me, I’ve developed a fear of intimacy (of all kinds) & a fear of loss of freedom. So, as a 32 year old woman who likes relationships & wants children, how do I make this work? Obviously by making my fears public to the world, thereby forcing me to make changes..or at least start by writing about making changes (everything’s a process, guys).

For whatever reason (exes, circumstances, experiences), over the years I’ve begun shying away from emotional & physical contact with people who may be potential mates. I don’t feel like re-telling my life story on a date (I mean, how many times can you go over your own life? I literally started boring myself), I run away like Phoebe Buffay in Central Park (you so remember that episode) at the first sign of someone trying to hold my hand or anything remotely physical (my aversion to PDAs are a long-standing thing so this isn’t really so surprising, but I suppose to recoil from a hand like it’s a mutant tarantula is a little much). Past relationships haven’t turned out for the best for a variety of reasons (infidelities-them, overanalysis/need to prove myself correct when Sherlocking the aforementioned infidelities-me, insecurities-us); & though I’m civil/friends with those little culprits now (which is something fabulous that I think everyone should do if feasible, because it removes a LOT..not all, but still..of emotional cargo & has lightened the load in my life significantly), they clearly impacted the relationship issues I face now. Currently, the thought of a boyfriend makes me break out into hives because I think of all of the weekends/evenings that would have to go into dinners and family meetings at some point and struggling to find my alone time which I so treasure right now. I worry that all of the grandiose dreams I have for myself & my life will end up playing second fiddle to my relationship & at my age, the problem (supposedly) is that I don’t have the luxury of time to delay either my life’s goal or my relationship future. 

So, how does a person re-learn romantic love? I mean, I don’t have to start all over in the general love department because I love my friends in the adore kinda way & I love my family in the obsessed/don’t mess with them/they can never leave me kinda way (that’s an unhealthiness best explained in another post) & I love my dog in the you’re the best thing with 4 legs and a tongue ever created kinda way. But how do you re-learn the I’m-in-love-with-you-you’re-really-attractive-let’s-hang-out-a-lot-and-maybe-make-out kind of love? Trial and error. Perhaps being less cocooned will help, perhaps letting my guard down (SLOWLY) will help people to believe that I’m not, in fact, some intimidating unfeeling ice queen, but rather a vulnerable person with concerns and fears and aspirations and dreams. I’ve also learned that taking all of the pressures coming from other people around me & placing them on myself and the people I meet is not about to help make me open and available, it basically just overwhelms & drives you into a scared turtle state. I’ve also realized that though I have standards, and I refuse to compromise on some of them because I am well aware of what type of individual and what type of relationship I deserve, that some of them may be impossible for anyone to meet & maybe that’s the sole reason why I put them there; so I can say, “Oh well, you don’t meet this requirement of being a chest hair-less dancer who chews with his mouth closed and is sarcastic and doesn’t have a certain last name” & consequently not have to get to know those who don’t fit those standards. I suppose these “realizations” or epiphanies or whatever you want to call them are the first step to moving towards a life that I’m actually willing to share with someone else outside of my carefully & meticulously maintained world of weirdos. That, combined with a strange cocktail of minor narcissism/obsession with genetics/hyper-maternal instinct that makes me want to see more little me’s in the world, will hopefully be the propellors that catapult me into the arena of companionship and romantical love & stabilize me there while allowing me to revel with my own individual identity intact.

There’s no definitive answer on how to feel romantic love again, but there are definitive methods to the madness, and at this moment in time, in the melodic words of Alicia Keys, if you ask me, I’m ready.

Today’s Interlude(s): “Back In The High Life Again,” by Steve Winwood & “Not A Bad Thing” by Justin Timberlake

Mindy, Mindy, Mindy, Can’t You See? Sometimes Your Words Just Hypnotize Me: The Difference Between An Admirer & A Creeper

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Today’s Mood Ingredients: Excited, Admiring, Awed, BFF-y.

If you know me, you know I love her. Like, LOVEEE her. I’m not a person who gets starstruck or flustered when meeting celebrities, ever, but when I recently had the chance to meet writer/director/actor/producer/fashionista/hottie Mindy Kaling, albeit for a brief 12 second span where I gave her Easter candy in a hot pink bag, my body apparently knew something my brain wasn’t caught up on because I was shaking like a Californian in an Alaskan winter & it wasn’t because of the 50 mph gusts of wind outside.

People who follow me on social media are well aware of my adoration for her & they’ve asked me time & time again why she’s so awesome to me. There is a plenitude of reasons that we love or admire celebrities. Most of the time it’s their body of work & talent or because of whatever persona they (or their PR team) decide to show us, & since we’ll most likely never meet them, that’s how it stays. With Mindy (& I have a huge list of people who share my sentiment), it’s much more. It’s easy to pick her as the South Asian role model for women & entertainers and very easy to pick her as the spokesperson for every “Brown” person out there, but that’s actually last on my list of why I am awed by her in a non-creeper way. If you’ve read her book, “Is Everyone Hanging Out Without Me? And Other Concerns,” you’ll know what I mean (& if you haven’t read it, get on it ASAP. It’s a New York Times Bestseller & unless you’re a Jetsons-esque robot [but even Rosie had emotions], you’ll laugh until you ugly cry. I’ve read it 3 times, taking something new away from it every time, & highlighted about 80% of it). Mindy weaves humor & emotion seamlessly while telling her stories of being bullied about her weight, her childhood fears, unapologetically loving comedy early on in life, her botched Broadway audition, living in a shoebox apartment with her 2 best friends, her dating game, and so on. As she tells her stories, I don’t know if she realizes it or not, she connects with so many of us on a personal level. It’s easy to want to put those days behind you (& easily be able to) when you’re at nearly 3 million Twitter followers, over half a million Instagram followers, & being the star & show runner of your own network TV show, but the greatest thing about her is that she owns it & embraces it all. She’s never hidden from her roots or her history and that’s what makes her accessible to & adored by so many of us (her talent and hilarity help too, obv).

I have many celebrities I love, but I’ve never felt connected to them on a personal level like I do with Mindy Kaling. Perhaps it’s that we’re close in age, perhaps it’s that she is fiercely loyal in her close relationships & friendships, perhaps it’s that her greatest strength & love is the relationship she has (yes, present tense) with her mother, perhaps it’s that we’re both fashion freaks (her Instagram feed is to die for!), perhaps it’s that we had a similar childhood, & perhaps it’s just that she’s someone I aspire to be like; inspired, driven, sarcastic with a childlike exuberance but an iron work ethic. She’s a brilliant writer, an Ivy-League graduate, & has humorous self-deprecation down to a science. Someone somewhere (or at least definitely on Twitter) says that they wish they were Mindy Kaling’s BFF every day. And though I admit to having said that, I’m happy I’m not. Wait, what? Yes, I’m happy I’m not her BFF because I have my own group of BFFs (“it’s not a person, it’s a tier, Danny!”) who have been there for me through all of the winding roads of life & I love that she still has her core group of homies from college (& of course, BJ Novak from The Office) who have been there for her for the same. Don’t get me wrong though, had it been 2002 & I met Mindy & her friends (which was SO FEASIBLE since I was watching all of the Bombay Dreams auditions in real life & wish I’d gotten to know her when she auditioned!), I’d totally try & hang out with them.

For someone who has high aspirations for making it as not only a woman, but a person in this world, I can think of no one better to look to as a guide. She didn’t glide up on a who-knows-who method & she doesn’t rest on her laurels. She worked her ass off & had conviction in her work, her intellect, her talent, & herself and that’s something I sometimes forget to do for myself. She’s constantly striving (look at me, weirdly talking about her as though I know her personally..here is that line between admirer & creeper, you guys..I’m toeing it :P) to better herself & hone her skills, but doesn’t seem to beat the shit out of herself if something falls short. And for all of the times that people come down on her for not being the token South Asian who apparently should be shouldering all of our historical burdens, a quote from Elle Magazine says it best, “She doesn’t rely on being Indian, but doesn’t deny it either.” That’s an amazing thing, especially in Hollywood! This is 2014. Be proud that a “f***ing Indian woman [has] her own f***ing show!” A network television show. That, for once, doesn’t stereotype an Indian woman (or man, for that matter) as an accent-harboring, oily haired nerd searching long & hard for an arranged marriage that will make the family happy all the while toiling away at a profession they hate. And for those who say, “Yeah, but she still plays a doctor! How Brown.” Yes, she plays an OB-GYN as an homage to her late mother’s profession, not because of the Indian generalization associated with it. Mindy’s created a show for us single 30-something women that shows the real, if sometimes exaggerated, colors of dating & working (especially for us New Yorkers). I have known people my whole life who, despite being Indian, have only dated non-Indian people. It’s not Mindy’s job to make sure that every South Asian actor has a job, or to make sure that Dr. Mindy Lahiri dates South Asian men just because she is South Asian. That’s a reality that people really need to get on board with. Her job was to create a show that is funny, that people will enjoy, & that she’s proud of, and in that, she has succeeded tenfold.

I think I may have been happier than Mindy Kaling & the cast and crew themselves when The Mindy Project was renewed (early) for a season 3. The show is my happy place. It’s found its groove (even though I personally have loved every episode since the pilot) & there are times you have to watch it twice to catch one-liners you may have missed because you were too busy laughing at something else that just happened. It makes me literally LOL (which only Friends & Gilmore Girls have done) with its quick witted dialogue, pop culture references, equally intelligent and silly humor, & incredibly individual characters; and to know that Mindy’s in charge of it all (with a great team, of course) just makes me wax poetic about her even more. I have been having quite a few shitty days lately & I’ll be damned if Morgan Tookers’ innocent creepiness or Danny Castellano’s curmudgeon-y behavior (red grandma glasses intact) or Mindy Lahiri’s insecure self-confidence don’t give me at least that full 21 minutes of reprieve from real life. If you haven’t given it a chance yet, I suggest you spend the next 9.5 hours watching season 1 & season 2 on YouTube in order to prep for the one hour return tonight at 9PM on FOX. I know I’m going to be sipping on strawberry ale in my TMP cup saying “HOW DARE YOU!?” to anyone that attempts to disturb my cloud 9 of comedy.

P.S. Mindy, if you ever end up reading this, I’m just kidding about the BFF thing. I love my tier, but I’m totally available, so call me! “Winky face.” 😉

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Today’s Interlude: The Mindy Project Theme Song

 

ALL THE SINGLE LADIES: FLIRTY 30’S VS. DIRTY 30’S

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Today’s Mood Ingredients: Hope, Happiness, Furor, Independence, Strength, Love.

If there’s anything that Sex & The City has taught us single 30-somethings in NYC, or any city for that matter, it’s that whether or not you’re anywhere near finding your Mr. (or Mrs.) Big, the dating scene will provide you with much fodder to talk about over brunch with the girls. The constant he-said/she-saids, the will they/won’t theys, the should I/shouldn’t I-s often turn Sunday afternoon mimosas into Monday morning hangovers.

Most days I feel like a combination of Taylor Swift, a Disney princess, & Daria. None of the looks, some of the grace, all of the snark..in one messily wrapped romantic present; using both meanings of that last word. Other days, I feel like an old lady who’s running out of time. All of the above are valid. As a 32 year old person who has been single for the past 7 years, you’d think I’d be missing being in a relationship. The truth is, I’m more content than I have been in a long time. That’s not some bitter-but-Beyoncé-esque-independent-woman sentiment either. At this point in my life, I just feel like I would like to concentrate on myself; my career (big change from medical school to fashion designer), my family (whom I have neglected in the past when consumed in a relationship), my nephew (who is my lifetime Valentine), and just my own overall well-being. Now, if I were 18-23 years old and saying this, everyone would be lauding me on my thought process & how I’m “so mature, that’s a great way to find yourself and see what you want out of life!” but at 32, the same people are literally distressed for me; “Oh wow, don’t you want to have children? Aren’t you worried you’ll be alone & seek companionship when it’s too late? Time is running out! Let me set you up, I know this friend who knows a friend!” No. Sorry. I do not want to meet some random human that you know through your boss’ secretary’s dog’s groomer. Time is not running out. I’m 32! Hopefully I’m not about to disappear tomorrow; I survived the End of the World in 2012 after all! Yes, children are important to me. I want little mini-me creatures running amok in the world causing hilarity and absurdity in the lives of the population more than anything else in the world, but there are options. We don’t live in the age where single parenthood, freezing eggs, surrogacy, etc. are not available to us. Not to say that I want any of those things, but though I do want to be happily married someday, I don’t think a husband is the be-all & end-all of my world. For those who know me, you know my favorite woman of all time besides my mother, grandmother, & godmother, is Mindy Kaling. And you know what, unsurprisingly enough, she said it best:

“I would love to be married. But it’s not a necessity like the way that I feel I need & want to have children. It would be wonderful to have a husband, & I would feel blessed to do it. But I would feel sad for the rest of my life if I had no kids.”

Plus, between trying an online site & finding a couple of nice guys who weren’t quite my type & some who were more arrogant than Charlie Sheen on a tiger blood rant, and making myself “more available & approachable” by going out to various events (aside from the bar scene, FYI) and nearly being mauled by someone else’s face on mine with the witty inebriated pickup line of “Whatever, can I just kiss you now!?,” the dating scene isn’t all that savory right now in my experience. Flirting has turned into what I like to call “dirting;” the new wham bam thank you ma’am of the current supposedly adult-ish generation, but without even the facade of genuine interest.

There are plenty of think pieces, blog posts, hell, whole books dedicated to “the single 30-something,” & most often, they are directed towards the single 30-something woman. I tried a Google image search using “single 30-something women” to find a picture for this post & except for pictures of SJP, Cynthia Nixon, Kim Cattrall, & Kristin Thomas, all I saw were pictures of sad lonely women, a headline of Kim Kardashian saying “I Thought I’d Be Married By Now,” & a book titled something like 30-Something, Why Am I Still Single? I relate to NONE of the above. And this isn’t some feminist rant, but come on! All of my friends are working, traveling, creating..living..single or otherwise. They aren’t sitting & wallowing in their singledom, they’re enjoying it, & some want to keep it that way forever while the others are dating or content in the belief that “it’ll happen when it happens.”

Basically all I have to say to those who keep asking me when it’s going to be my turn, today on Valentine’s Day, and every other day is this:

Bitch, don’t kill my vibe.

Today’s Interlude: Michael Bublé, “Haven’t Met You Yet”