I am breaking up with 22 year old. Yes, he has been in the very young and lineless background, and I did today what I have been prone to do since I have had a good chance with a truly sweet guy–sabotaged the relationship so that he wouldn’t like me, so I would end up going out with the jerks I complain about in this column. Sound crazy? I never claimed to be normal. I only know how to br treated like a plaything that a spoiled rotten guy that gets everything from the newest porcelain veneers to the newest model Audi/Bentley/BMW, and is satisfied for as long as an ice cream cone is satisfying.
I am intelligent, yet I keep doing the same old, same old, stupidities.
Will I ever learn? Do I WANT to learn?
Fine. One hair isn’t going to get me down. Im a fighter. (Not literally, I have no muscle mass to speak of. I want Madonna’s arms for Hannukah. Well not HER arms. Arms that look like hers.) I am just going to pull the offending hair out of my head and flush it down the loo. The strangest thing happened though–I told my close friend I was pulling the white hair out and she started yelling and said some pearls of wisdom that sounded like this “Yernotlowedcousindensixellgro!!!!!!!!!!!”. Say WHAT??? After she calmed down a bit, she spoke and enunciated in a clearer manner what she had meant to say before–”Gigi, you are not allowed to pull out a white or gray hair, because if you pull out one, SIX grow back!!!!!” Six? Woah. I may have experienced REM during Human Bio 1o1, but that made no sense. One hair follicle would produce six follicles??? She was adamant, and vehemently told me that she would tell me “I told you so.” I love her dearly, but for every superstition she taught me about, in addition with the dire warning of the ominous “I told you so”, and I have yet to hear it once….
But just in case there is a next time,(please let this be a random fluke) I will color the hair with a Sharpie,
Gigi feeling very wise(Oman, is it the white hair????)
Hey all of you. Sorry that I haven’t been writing every day. I am working on consistency, as well as my abs. It’s been horrible–I found a hair that was (come close to the screen because this 411 I am not shouting on the rooftops in joy) white!!!!!Pure white. I thought I was going blond, and that made me feel my aorta sniffle. At least I have my high intelligence(or is that going too???), but my hair turning against me–and not blond–nope–one white strand. After years of washing my hair, conditioning, (okay maybe I O.D.ed it in hairspray and gel when I wanted my hair to look as if it defied gravity)…But one white hair? I think I need to find G-d. Well, I know where He is but I haven’t behaved that well. Too many carbs too, these days, and we all know carbs are evil.
I need a lettuce leaf and a new mantra.
Gigi–Hair In Shock!
Why is it that the people we want(to date, have dated, want a serious relationship with…) don’t want us, but the one’s that want us, we don’t want? I know for a fact this isn’t an issue of the Forbidden Fruit, because it isn’t just me–it is so many of my friends and aquaintances, and in my mind’s eye, I see so many of you nodding your head in acquiescence.
Is this some sort of cruel irony of life? I am so tired of dating. I feel sad when I say no to someone because they truly are not my type, but when someone says no to me, it kills me inside because hey, I may as well admit that Ms. -Sometime-Witty-Gigi lacks serious self confidence and a no is HUGE BLOCK FONT NO. It’s a no to everything I am–because the comment “you’re sweet, I just don’t see this going anywhere”, or “our personalities are way too different” makes me feel a physical ache(maybe I wasn’t pretty enough, flirty enough, talked too much, etc…) and I can’t. I can’t keep going on and on on this never ending merry-go-round that wont stop, and isn’t merry, and to tell you the truth? It never was.
How many No’s do I have to get before I completely surrender?
Gigi and balled up Kleenex
I think that if I go somewhere, maybe a sunny climate like the West Coast, I would be like as cheery as an insulin shock-inducing Bubble Gum chewing, Valley Girl Cheerleader.Like, maybe I have S.A.D.? (Seasonal Affective Disorder(look it up if you don’t know what it is, Im too bloated to do it)–I am no doctor, though I completely feel Gray’s Anatomy Mcdreamy–figuratively, and wow, I wish literally.
I don’t know what I would do in California. I don’t tan. I turn into a Rotisserie Chicken with the added beauty of millions of freckles. Acting? Yep. I can do that. But the skeleton thing happens again. Camera adds ten pounds. I am tall for a girl. Do I want a Human Biology 101 class to use me to point out every bone, tendon, cottage cheese cluster of cellulite, hickey, artery, and sixth toe? (Okay, so I lied about the hickey and additional toe. I wish I had a hickey. I was never given a hickey. That’s why I came out as….special as I am today. The toe I wrote because everyone knows guys have toe fetishes–if I have an added toe–I have a leg up on the competition–pun intended.)
For now, I am staying here. I kinda like you guys. I feel that we are connecting. You are growing on me like fungus.
Have like, a dietetic day!!!!!!(NOTTTTTTTTTT!!!!!!!!!!)
Okay. I have a confession to make. I live with, um, my, you know, well, the woman from whom I exited her womb, and the man who was a partner in my creation(and until today the thought is horrific to endure.) Yes, my name is Gigi, I am single and live alone with the parents. I mooch off of them like a parasite.
Happy thoughts! Happy thoughts! As much as I would love to finally sever the umbilical cord, and move into a modest dwelling in the city, I can’t afford the exorbitant rent of a rat’s nest. It’s really a matter of SMS!!!(Save My Sanity!!!)as all around me seem to have the same expression–furrowed brows, fallen faces, and The Book of Psalms. They mourn that I have not yet produced offspring–whoops–and have not yet come close to a relationship of substance. I feel them giving up. This is why I must leave.
There is one very very minor, infinitestimal problem that hinders my moving out. I am jobless. Yes, another confession from me today. I went to college, got my BA in Liberal Arts, as I wasn’t sure what I wanted to do–so I learned a bit about everything. I ended up going the way of English, as in Language Arts–Literature, Grammar, Spelling, etc…For years I taught High School and loved every moment of it. A bit later, I fell into Marketing and PR….but that is for another day….
23 year old awaits. 22 yr. old filled my Ipod Nano yesterday. Awesome Songs!
Gigi, Jobless, and Thank Heavens, not Homeless–YET.