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.


The music’s gone, my love

The music’s gone but I still feel it all.

The fire’s out but the warmth I once felt still lingers.

These five years have been challenging. We’ve both grown apart in our own way. I fell into a two year relationship that sucked the life out of me, while you figured out what you truly wanted. Through the two years we were apart, you’ve learned to compromise in order to be happy and I’ve learned to let things be instead of beating a dead horse.

Seeing you again, being in your arms again feels so different now. I’m not in love with you the way I fooled myself into thinking I was. Now it feels safe and sacred. I feel protected by a friend who’s loved me once and made me feel secure. I’m proud that you’ve learned to be more of an honest man. You’re doing right by a much sharper moral compass and I’m doing right by chasing what sets me free.

Our song ended 2 years ago when timing redirected us into two separate wavelengths. I committed myself into a serious relationship while you finally got out of yours. Go figure. 

But I still feel it. The buzz and familiar tune of the rhythm while our bodies tango as you hold me now that we’re reunited. The electrifying touch from your fingers as you caress my arms and pull me into a tight squeeze. It still lingers and I still feel it pulsating through my skin. Like listening to an old favorite tune, each beat bringing me back to a moment from our chapter.

But we’re just friends now. My body remembers, but my heart has moved on.

Goodbye dear friend. Let this be our last dance as we venture into a new story with our lives.

My phone will still ring and I’ll still be excited to hear from you, but we both know, it’s time we let go. I think a part of me will always be in love with you because of our unwavering chemistry. Timing and life just always got in the way. So let’s hold each other one last time, listen to the hymns of my soul connecting with yours as we bid our farewell because if timing screws us more than twice, it’s just not meant to be.

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.

Loneliness in a Relationship

You made me feel like I lived a very lonely life. I felt alone most of the time- even surrounded by friends. When I was with you, there was a part of me that no longer wished to be with you. I questioned myself why at the time but didn’t understand it until now.

3 months post breakup and I’m finally getting to know myself. The person I should’ve been watching out for. In these 3 months I’ve filled it with so many great memories from traveling to the east coast to celebrate my birthday to going out more with people I rarely would ever dream of going out with.

I was itching to run, but at the time I felt so dependent on you. Maybe it wasn’t you who held me captive in the relationship but myself for not being strong enough to move on long after the ship had already sailed.

I was lonely IN our relationship because you didn’t care about me. You said you did, but your actions didn’t. All the times we were hanging out, it was on your terms. Your video games. Your VR set. Your friends because you didn’t like MY friends.

You liked to stay up late watching stupid adult cartoons, so I always went to bed alone. I woke up earlier in the day since I’m a morning person and had coffee while I read. We wouldn’t say hello until 3 hours after the fact. Then I’d be hungry for lunch but you’ve just started your day and wanted your “alone” time to smoke weed and go on reddit.

Reflecting back on the two and half years I spent with this routine, I’ve learned to never compromise my weekends again. Those four walls confined me for so long that I settled. I lost the will to go out and explore novel things. I got so used to the quiet and the same insane thing over and over again that I lost my voice to speak up because I simply just gave up.

Then I met someone. He doesn’t mean a single thing to me – I barely even know him. But we have fun. We talk about work, hobbies… interests…

….then he holds me to sleep at night.

Something you’ve never done. The excuse was always you’re not comfortable and that you wanted to sleep.

I wake up in his arms.

Something that’s never happened to us.

I wake up in his arms every time we sleep on the same bed.

How can someone so new

..already fit better than you?



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?

The new love trend: Love Bombing

Back in my first couple years post college, I would literally not have anything to do at work and constantly end up falling back to Elite Daily. Now? Given my busy 11 hour work schedule, I get ED newsletter subscriptions curated to select the top articles for that week.

This week, in particular, a post really carved in my stomach and pulled out my gut.

Love Bombing– the new love trend. So first there was ghosting, then breadcrumbing (seriously WTF?) and now there’s LOVE BOMBING. So what the living hell is this?

Taken from Elite Daily: Love bombing is a form of romantic manipulation in which your partner showers you with love from the get-go, only to have things go south fast, according to the New York Post.

Psychiatrist Dale Archer explained in a Psychology Today post that this happens when someone tries to win your affection by showering you with “love, attention, presents and promises about the future.”

Why the sudden urge to punch myself in the throat?

Well, I never knew there was a term for the same cycle I fall into with well, almost every person I think I’m falling for.

They always over-promise, under deliver.

They always shower with so much attention you’re about to drown in their TLC, like it’s waterfall. (yes I went there)

Based on the extended article from Psychology Today, it seems the love bomber is an insecure manipulator that just wants to make themselves seem like a great catch.

First, wow. What a reality check for me.

Second, dear god. This is the REAL fuck boy!! Fuckboys get so much hate for barely texting back, flaking, cute man buns, grungy beards, and massive flirting but at least they don’t swear by a future with you 3 minutes after meeting you and tell you you’re the one.

Lesson learned. Stay the F away from Love Bombers and take things slower…

Shit, can’t tell which one is easier to work on between the two.

Post Breakup Coffee & Me

Then i found myself going back to the old habits.

coffee, black

tumblr, scrolling

everything went back to the way it was, except I felt emptier. Though a part of me came back and I missed the old me so much, I felt as though it wasn’t quite right anymore.

Like a chapter had been ripped out of a favorite old book.

For the longest time, I sat staring at the screen and mind numbingly passing post after post but felt nothing.

For I came back, but I lost my heart.

The breakup changed me, but it changed me for the better. I built strength in my character through the tears he made me shed. I grew wiser from the self loathing when we would fight until graveyard hours.

It’ll be a long while before I let someone in again, but I will over time. That’s the beauty of how resilient we can be when it comes to love. You’ll go back to the same routine you had with your life before you met him. Then one day, you’ll find another who’s heart beats the same rhythm. The one who’ll break down the walls and guarded heart.

Until then,

coffee, black

tumblr, scrolling.

I’m back where I’ve always been. And I missed the old me so much.