Destined to be the other woman

I was in the winter of my life, and the men I met along the road were my only summer.
At night I fell asleep with visions of myself, dancing and laughing and crying with them.
Three years down the line of being on an endless world tour, and my memories of them were the only things that sustained me, and my only real happy times.
I was a singer. Not a very popular one,
I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet, but upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken.
But I didn’t really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is.
When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I’d been living, they asked me “Why?”, but there’s no use in talking to people who have home.
They have no idea what it’s like to seek safety in other people, for home to be wherever you lay your head.
I was always an unusual girl.
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean…
And if I said I didn’t plan for it to turn out this way I’d be lying…
Because I was born to be the other woman.
Who belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone.
Who had nothing, who wanted everything, with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn’t even talk about it, and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.

Lana Del Rey.


What if I’m destined to be the other woman? It breaks me to even have to question this but for the longest time I’ve asked myself why. Why is it that I’m not with him? Picking up groceries holding hands, planning long lead vacations on a crisp Sunday morning, and even sitting down each night with the same person breaking bread? I don’t mean that I’m the other woman to a man who’s married or even in another relationship. I just mean that I’m not the woman he spends his life with. I’m the phase. I’m the adventure until he wants steady.

It’s like I’m fucking diseased with a big fat scarlet letter slapped across my forehead that I’m not perceived as someone good enough. Someone that’s priority. Someone that he sees valuable enough to dedicated a meaningful friendship. Aside from my name, does he even know how I like my coffee? Or which way I always turn to sleep?

I don’t belong to anyone which made me belong to everyone.

Drink after drink, mistake after mistake. I reflect on the patterns and see nothing’s ever right. Bad decisions follow me like the plague, and I ride each of those waves only for a momentary gratification. The high from an addiction, telling myself I’ll be good after this one last hit.

Morning comes and he’s still in my bed; sleeping away without a care in the universe. He wakes up, holds me for a minute and walks out the door with his things.

The text doesn’t come for a few weeks, but then one night when I think I’m back on my routine, my phone beeps and I’m back here again asking myself why.


You’re not ready if you’re comparing him to your ex

4 months post breakup, and I’ve found the secret to evaluating whether or not you are ready to date again.

*DISCLAIMER: Post exodus from my 2 and half year relationship, I second guessed if I’ll ever trust my brain to make a right decision again. The relationship wasn’t horrible, my ex wasn’t a piece of dirt, and the breakup rated rather high in the amicable category. Yet still, it was 2.5 years of my life and there were major phases when I was unhappy. Therefore, the looming question stands:  if I gravitate towards a certain type and this is what I am attracted to, doesn’t that just mean I’ll be dating the same person over and over again?

Many people think it’ll be hard to meet new people or even find someone you like. I made that mistake of semi starting to crush on someone without realizing until it was too late that his personality, though coupled with some differences, were all red flags I had for my ex.

I pondered some more and felt that if these were the issues I couldn’t fix with my previous significant other, what confidence would I have that this man would be any different?

Dating someone similar to your ex is like being given the forbidden apple. It looks tasty, new, crisp on the outside with a hint of familiarity as though you know exactly how sweet and delicious it will be. However, would you want to go down the same road and bite into an apple knowing it’s poisonous for you?

More and more I thought, I came to the conclusion I wasn’t ready to date quite yet. I saw my ex in him no matter what. Then I started fantasizing what ifs before anything even started. In my silly imaginations, I already fought with this new guy exactly how I fought with my ex. I grew cognizant that this unhealthy comparison meant I just wasn’t ready. I needed more time to heal, and not to jump on the first thing that filled a void I had.

So, doctor’s orders: stay away from the apple. You’re not quite ready if these new prospects are just fillers for your ex.



The kind of person you need to be with

I can be a carefree child.

A heartbroken, doe-eyed teenager.

A jaded successful professional.

With you I’m 6 and running wild with inappropriate jokes, giggling til my abs hurt and cheeks burn.

With you I’m 15 and crying about why boys don’t value my attention, listening to your wisdom til my eyes dry and frown wavers.

With you I’m 29 and distilling what it takes to break the glass ceiling, discussing goals for the future til we gulp down single malt misery that we’re losing time as it catches up faster and faster year over year.

With you I’m 6, 15, and 29.

With you I am every age of myself and every facade of who I am. You’ve peeled every layer, knocked down the sturdiest walls, and embraced every molecule that is my being.

With you is who I choose to turn 72 with. This is where I want to be, because only with you am I all these ages and more.

When it smells like Autumn…

Lorelai Gilmore had a special gift. As soon as she smelled snow, her and her daughter Rory Gilmore would look up at the sky and almost within that instant as they peered above, snow would sift down dusting their coats and scarves.

That icon from Gilmore Girls transcended through the seasons as a bookmark if you will, that set her personality apart from others.

Lorelai is the rambunctious happy go lucky character that’s independent and fierce. I remember desiring someone like that to be in my life.

Recently, the seasons gradually changed from summer to fall and though LA still has the warm atmosphere floating around, I started to smell autumn.

It’s truly a blissful time of year and quite frankly, my favorite season.

  1. The air is cooler granting a wardrobe overhaul with cute hats, scarves and of course, boots.
  2. The color palette switches from glittering yellows and beachy blues to a warm brown and vibrant orange.
  3. Halloween decorations have kicked off in retail reminding us that soon enough Holiday Seasons is right around the corner.
  4. Cuddle weather with hot cocoa and thin mints to complement the sweetness
  5. My famous spiked apple cider to soothe our bones when it gets too chilly
  6. The nights are spent by candlelight indoors reading for the introverts
  7. and my absolute favorite reason: love. I feel an overwhelming aura of love during autumn. Maybe because my spirits are lifted from the season, but it just feels amazing.

When next year’s fall rolls around, do you think you’ll smell autumn?

This is what falling for you feels like

My heart’s never pounded so fast,

nor has it ever felt this empty.

My tongue’s never tasted so dry,

nor has it been so thirsty for another.

My head’s never been so tormented,

nor have I ever thought I’d be so happy with being so smitten.

This conundrum I have is both liberating and suffocating.

This is how I endure puppy love.

The silly moments where I am lost in lust

but found in love.


“but some part of it will always not feel right”

I was trying to explain to her what she could not grasp.

I wasn’t unhappy in my relationship by any means, maybe just stuck in a conundrum.

“It’s like there’s a bottle and a cap, and no matter how I try to screw on the cap, it doesn’t seem to fit perfectly –

It still functions as a bottle in that the cap screws on and nothing will spill out nor would anything fall in. The bottle still works, but some part of it will always not feel right.”

That was the best way for me to explain my conundrum.


He leaves a thorn in my sides as each passing day goes by that we are together.

Toxic relationships grow and grow. The thorns prick my skin one by one; day by day until there’s no surface left to puncture me. He’s taken all of me.

So when the time finally comes, and I’ve mustered enough bravery to leave and let it all go, it takes one day at a time to pluck out each thorn he’s left in me.

The recovery is painful, they say. The recovery is hard.

And as each day I pull with might, I feel the twinge of throbbing memories being yanked out. The petals glisten and cheer.

The buds start to say, it’s one step closer to leaving it behind. Thorns no longer impaling my emptiness but piling up on the ground where I left the rest of that darkness.