Regrets.

Back in 2015, I was a completely different person living a completely different life. I had a rockstar career at GMR Marketing, where I basically got paid to travel the country and visit various music festivals. I loved the people in the office, I loved my tour staff, and I woke up just about every morning excited to go to work. I had also recently met the love of my life, Moises, and we were enjoying the honeymoon phase that all new relationships go through. My life felt almost perfect; the only challenge was the fact that Moises lived in Green Bay, and I lived in Milwaukee, and I hated missing him all the time. I wanted to build a life with him, which meant, for me, that we needed to live in the same place. And since Moises shares custody of his son with his ex-wife who also lived in Green Bay, that really left only one option: I would have to move.

I was torn over this for months. I didn’t want to give up a career that I loved, but I also wanted to, eventually, marry Moises and have a family of our own. He insisted that we could make it work long distance as long as we needed to; he didn’t want me to give up my career, either. But I wanted to have it all, and I was determined to find a way to make that happen.

Now, Green Bay isn’t exactly a metropolis, and the job opportunities in my field up here are few and far between, so for a long time, things looked, and felt, pretty hopeless. That is until one fateful day in the winter of 2015 when a seemingly perfect job opportunity at a large, prestigious company was dropped into my lap. I interviewed… and interviewed… and interviewed some more. The whole process took 4 months in all and then, finally, one day in June, I was offered the job I’d fought so hard to get – an Account Manager position. I was ecstatic. It was a huge step up in my career, a huge step up financially, and it would allow me to move to Green Bay and be with Moises. Sure, I’d have to commute to work, but it was a small price to pay for all of the pieces of my life finally falling into place.

And so, I quit my job at GMR, found someone to take over the lease at my apartment, found a cute 3-bedroom house to rent in Green Bay, started my new job, and moved, all within the span of two months. It was a hectic summer. Moving day was my birthday, and my whole family came to help. We went out to brunch the next day to celebrate before they headed back. I remember that Moises had flowers delivered to the table with a note welcoming me to Green Bay, and two hours away from the town I’d grown up in, for that moment, I felt like I was finally home.

Unfortunately, things went downhill faster than I ever could have imagined that they would.

I learned very quickly that my boss was one of the most manipulative, cruel, deceitful, vain, shallow and horrible people that I’d ever cross paths with.  There aren’t enough words in my vocabulary to accurately describe this woman – and she had it out for me almost from the very beginning. There was no support, no guidance, and no kindness from her. I also learned very quickly that everyone on my team despised her, and that she liked to pit us against each other by talking about people on the team to other people on the team. Within my first month of employment, I got pulled into a meeting with HR and my entire team, as well as my boss’s boss, to discuss her behavior, and how it would either change, or she would be gone.

Things didn’t change. And yet, she’s still there.

By the time January of 2016 rolled around, I was a mess. My anxiety and depression were through the roof. I was constantly terrified of losing my job because of the way my boss treated me. She constantly told me I wasn’t performing up to expectations, but wouldn’t give me any idea or guidance as to how to get to where I needed to be. I felt physically sick when I woke up every morning, and I found myself crying in the bathroom at least once a day. I began seeing a psychiatrist in hopes of getting my emotions more under control, but with no immediate way to change the underlying cause, there wasn’t much that all the medication in the world could do. Slowly, I lost my self-esteem, my confidence, and my happiness.

Eventually, my boss put me on a performance plan, and I knew at that point that I had to get out before she fired me and I found myself unemployed. Looking back, as hard as it is to admit, I had no business getting that job. They had hired me at the highest level of account management, and I didn’t even know it until the first time my boss told me I wasn’t performing at the level I needed to be. I’m an intelligent woman, but I just didn’t have the experience necessary to fill that role, and they never should have given it to me in the first place. That fact, coupled with the struggles with my boss, led to an impossible situation.

Faced once again with the fact that there just weren’t many, if any, jobs in my field in Green Bay, and with time running out, I decided that my best chance would be to find a job in Milwaukee, regroup, and figure out my next steps from there. And so, I ended up taking another Account Manager position with a smaller agency just outside of the city. I was so excited to be back in the agency world, and to be out of my current situation, even though it meant having to leave Moises. I was so hopeful that I’d be able to wake up excited to go to work once again. That’s how, in July of 2016, I ended up packing up my stuff and moving back to Milwaukee, not even a year after I’d left. My dad and stepmom were kind enough to lend me their basement for all my belongings, and my sister and her boyfriend were gracious enough to let me camp out in their spare room so I wouldn’t be tied down to a lease while I tried to figure out what I was going to do next, and whether or not this job would be a good fit.

Unfortunately, once again, it wasn’t.

Almost immediately, I had a sinking feeling that I’d made a mistake. I thought at first that maybe it was just my horrible experience at my previous job that was making me skittish, but the truth was that this job, right off the bat, wasn’t a good fit. Though it sounds dramatic, it’s true; after my tour on my first day, they put me up in an almost-deserted part of the building, and more or less forgot about me. My new stress became how to fill my days; though I constantly asked for work, they apparently didn’t have any to give, so I’m not sure why they hired me in the first place. I spent the majority of the first two months shadowing other people to learn as much as I could, and taking scraps of work that other, busier account managers didn’t have time for. And despite the fact that I’d been very clear in my interview that the majority of my agency and account management experience was event-based, and despite the fact that they told me that that was okay, and that they would teach me, I ended up in the same situation as the previous job.

One morning, like a bad case of déjà vu, I got pulled into my boss’s office, and was told I wasn’t performing at the level they’d hired me. I fought back this time, because the whole thing was so ridiculous, but my heart wasn’t in it. I was so tired. I didn’t like the job, or the company, anyway – all I was fighting for was a paycheck. Not even two weeks later, after barely 3 months with the company, they let me go, and despite the fact that I’d uprooted my life to avoid it, I ended up unemployed anyway. And though they openly admitted their fault in the whole mess that was my time with their company, it was too little, too late.

So there I was, Halloween of 2016, no job, living at my sister’s house, and no idea what the hell to do next. It was freeing, in a way, to not have to wake up sick to my stomach and go to a job that was killing me inside every single day. I loved being free of that. But I was terrified to take any kind of next step, because I didn’t want to end up in another situation like the two I’d been in previously. I missed Moises. I hated being away from him. And I needed to find a way to make a paycheck, fast.

I finally decided that I was going to find a job in Green Bay once and for all. And after just a month of being unemployed, I did, and I moved back in with Moises. I work at a decent company now, I enjoy the people that I work with, and my boss is incredibly kind, but for me, it is a job, not a career. I don’t wake up every morning feeling sick to my stomach, but I don’t look forward to going to work, either. I took a $30,000 pay cut just to take this job so I could be in Green Bay. And I wake up every day – truthfully, every single day -  still missing GMR, and wishing I could rewind the past two years and choose not to take that new job.

And so, after these tumultuous two years, I am left with three profound truths:

1) I deeply regret leaving my job at GMR.

2) I am ashamed of how much I have failed, and how far I have fallen from where I want to be.

3) I am scared that I'll never get back to a career that I love.

What's the purpose of this post, you might ask? Well, there's something cathartic about refusing to hide from those truths any longer. I don't want to carry the pain of the past two years with me anymore, so it's my plan to leave it all here - to face these truths, and to move on from them. Nowhere to go but up, and all that. Thanks for listening, friends. Here's to better tomorrows. 

FOMO

I became very familiar with the term FOMO, the acronym for Fear Of Missing Out, last year at work. My client at the time had to adhere by incredibly strict FDA regulations, but they also wanted the mobile marketing tour we were developing, one that traveled to music festivals across the country, to allow the consumers inside to enjoy the brand experience without cutting them off from the festival experience happening outside. The resulting idea pitched was from that moment on known as the FOMO wall; a two way glass façade that would allow people inside to see out, but keep anyone outside from seeing in. The client didn’t want to risk the possibility of it failing, exposing us to an FDA nightmare, so the idea was killed, but it’s had me thinking since then; wouldn’t it be awesome if you could always have the best of both worlds?

So much of our current culture overall seems to be based on FOMO. We want to buy everything, do everything, see everything, and we run ourselves ragged to make sure we don’t miss out. But in doing that, do we even really get time to enjoy any of it? I find myself more often than not wishing that I could be in more than one place at a time. I love to stay in and relax at night, but when I do, I think about all the things I could be doing instead, and the subsequent anxiety makes me crabby as hell. (Just ask M.) I used to think of myself as having two places that I call home, but now there’s three; my home in Green Bay, my home in Milwaukee, and my home in Orlando.  There isn’t a day that goes by that I find myself longing to be back in Orlando and working at Walt Disney World. I miss it very tangibly; every time I watch a Disney movie, or see a Facebook post from one of my friends who still works there, or hear about someone I know planning a trip, my chest gets tight and I find myself more than a little homesick. At that point I always stop and think to myself, “well, if that’s how you feel, why don’t you get a job there and move?” And after the fleeting moment of elation that thought inspires, another one pops up just as quickly; I won't. I won’t – not I can’t, but I won’t - because I’ve met the love of my life, and I make a conscious choice, my own choice, every day, to choose love, and a family, over a job. There is happiness, for me, in both choices, but guys like my boyfriend and his son only come along once in a lifetime. I am happy and content with the choice I continue to make…but that doesn’t mean I don’t wish I could find a way to live in both places at once. I miss being a part of the Disney culture, but I'm happy with the life I've created here, too. 

Since my move to Green Bay, Milwaukee has been added to the list of “places I wish I could live simultaneously”. This one is a bit easier since it’s only 2 hours away from me, and only 1 hour from my office, but all of us adults know how hard adulting can be, and time is one of those things that just seems to slip through our fingers. Trips to Milwaukee tend to be rushed and harried, trying to see everyone I want to see and do everything I want to do, and have begun to feel more like “obligation trips” than trips I enjoy. The funny thing is, I’m the one imposing all those obligations. I know that my friends and family are happy for whatever time I can give them. Just last night I saw that my sister went to see "Wicked" with some friends of hers and I had a FOMO flareup from hell that resulted in the following inner dialogue:

"Dude, if I had been in town, I could have gone with them. But I had a cooking class date night scheduled. But I wouldn't have scheduled it if I knew about Wicked! But they didn't even ask me to go. Yeah, because I'm 2 hours away and it's a weeknight and they knew I couldn't. But I could have! But no, the money, and the time, and I'd have been rushing. But it's Wicked, and it's Broadway, I mean it totally would have been worth it! But.. and... but..." And on it went. 

And don't even get me started on RSVP's. Friends, let me tell you know - event invitations paralyze me, because when there is more than one option, I am terrified of picking the wrong one. Which person will be less pissed at me if I don't come? Which one is more important? Which one do I WANT to attend? I also worry that if I pick one, something insanely awesome will automatically happen at the other, like Tyler shows up and tells everyone he's actually a unicorn and shows everyone his magical rainbow horn, and I'll have missed it, and I can't live with that kind of guilt.

For the record, the cooking class date night I mentioned above was amazing, and involved eating all sorts of delicious new-to-us Indian food as well as some fantastic QT with the man I love. The bottom line, though, and the reason for this blog post, is to remind myself that I CAN'T BE IN MORE THAN ONE PLACE AT ONCE. That will never change (I mean, I guess it could at some point, when all that science stuff makes time traveling possible, but definitely not in our lifetimes) - so why do I keep trying? Why do I keep worrying about it, and stretching myself beyond thin to do it all, and then neglecting to even take a moment to enjoy the present? This is an especially pertinent topic with the holiday coming up. So, I am challenging myself, and you, to try to spend 5 minutes a day living in the moment. 5 minutes people! We can do this! And if you're up for it, make it 10. Or 15. Or an hour. Or hell, if you're some kind of freakazoid genius, A WHOLE DAY. 

Challenge. Accepted. 

Back in the Saddle

Hello old friends. It's me, your favorite blogger*. It's been a while, and I hope this blog finds you well. It's been an interesting year for me. Let's recap, timeline style:

• August 2014: I meet my boyfriend, whom we shall call Jay to protect his anonymity. Where did we meet? On Tinder. Yes, you heard me right. I swiped right, and he swiped right, and the rest, as they say, is history. 

• September 2014: I stand up in a wedding for some good friends of mine. My ex-work husband who was also at the wedding gets wasted and tells a nice old couple, "See this girl right here? She's the love of my life. I let her put it in my butt." He doesn't remember this at all. 

• October/November/December 2014: Jay lives two hours away, in Green Bay so during this time there are a lot of road trips, FaceTime calls, and gross text messages talking about how much we miss and love each other. Gross.

• January 2015: I decide it's time for a new job. Jay and I decide that we've had it with the whole "two hours away from each other" thing. I wonder if there's a way to remedy both at the same time.

• February 2015: I interview for a super fun company that makes toilets, that is also located somewhere between Milwaukee and Green Bay. 

• March/April/May 2015: Still interviewing for said toilet job. Yes, seriously. Three months, 2 phone interviews, a full-day interview with 7 different people, some testing (including algebra and spatial testing, I guess to make sure I'm not a serial killer?) and a meeting with a psychologist and...

• June 2015: I got the toilet job! Only it's not actually a toilet job. I work with furniture and tile stuff. I still think toilets would have been cooler.

• July 2015: I start my new non-toilet job, and move out of my apartment and in with my sister for a month. I get stuck in traffic both ways on the commute. I hate everyone.

• August 1, 2015: I turn 32, pack up the U-Haul, and move 2 hours from home, and 10 minutes from Jay. A few weeks later, my BFF comes up to visit and helps me weed and dispose of a dead squirrel. Cuz that's what BFF's do.

• September 2015: I don't know what the hell I did last month. All of a sudden it was September 30th and I was like, what the hell am I doing with my life now? Apparently, moving to a smaller city has made me soft.

So that brings us to today. October 2nd, 2015. New job, new house, new city, all within less than a year. And the experiences I've had at my new job and in my new city thus far have already led me to a few new realizations:

1. I have a slot machine problem.
Maybe it's because there's not much else to do in Green Bay when there's not a football game on, but I have spent more time and money than I'd like to admit at the local casino. I won $100 in one spin last time, and convinced myself I could double it. Spoiler alert: I couldn't. On the plus side, this casino has the best damn cheese fries I've ever had in my life.

2. All movie theaters are not created equal.
In Milwaukee, I watched movies in style; we'd buy reserved tickets online days beforehand, then walk into the Ultra-Screen theater seconds before the preview, and an usher would escort us to our extra-large, Presidential-style semi-reclining loungers, where I could lounge comfortably in any manner I pleased. In Green Bay, one of the theaters doesn't even have stadium seating yet. All the seats are just... on the floor, like they expect us to just use our go-go-Gadget necks to extend so we can see over the people in front of us. I had also been used to needing to purchase tickets in advance for the blockbusters, since the theater I went to in Milwaukee always sold out opening night. Since my new theater doesn't have reserved seating, I got there an hour early on the opening night of the new Avengers movie.

Friday night, 7 pm - and Jay and I were 2 of the 5 people who showed up to watch it.

On the plus side, I don't have to worry about paying extra for reserved seating. On the downside, I miss not having a broken, over-extending seat bottom and an armrest digging into my side while I'm enjoying the newest release.

Green Bay. You need to get your movie theater shit together.

3. People in Green Bay are very friendly.
However, their friendliness comes at a cost, and that cost is time. I truly believe that no one in the city has anywhere to be at any certain time, nor has anyone ever owned a watch. In fact, when the people of Green Bay make appointments, I'm fairly certain that the scheduler tells them to "just show up sometime between when the sun rises and the wind is coming from the East, or when you finish your coffee, but make sure that you drive slowly with the windows down and enjoy every single moment on your way in." It would infuriate me if it wasn't actually kind of refreshing.

4. Long distance relationships are WAY different than "in the same city" ones...
...in the very best way. I am so glad I moved. I hated missing Jay all the time. The biggest adjustment is trying to be okay with having to shave my legs ALL THE TIME now. It's been fun to watch and adjust to the new dynamic of our relationship now that we have so much more time together. I love it. He makes me very, very happy.

5. Kids. Can. Be. Exhausting.
It's also been strange to wrap my head around the fact that I'm contemplating adding "stepmother" to my life resume. I mean, I still eat cheese straight off the block and put it back in the fridge with bite marks on it, but I'm supposed to help a kid navigate the waters from childhood into adulthood? There are still weekends where I don't change out of my pajamas, but I'm supposed to make sure a child eats healthy and doesn't grow up to be an asshole? Im lucky, because he's a very kind, helpful, funny and overall good kid, with SO MUCH ENERGY. I'm not used to it yet, and just thinking about it makes me want to take a nap.

6. Baby Mama Drama: It's all the same.
I've spent a lot of time wishing I could erase his ex from the face of the earth, and then feeling bad because she's his son's mother. I like to think she's a special breed of selfish, but the truth is, she's no different than the rest of us. It's hard for all parties involved to navigate the tangled mess of a divorce and new relationships with a child's well-being and happiness at stake. It's even harder as the girlfriend of the parent, when the fights had and the decisions made about the child will always affect you, but you can't always be a part of them. I feel both confident in saying and surprised by the fact that I'm able to be more selfless than I thought I ever could be when it comes to this, but I'm still not 100% comfortable with that fact yet. Despite the strength of our relationship, a tiny part of me struggles to know in my core that Jay is advocating in my, and our, best interest during those fights and discussions too, since I know his son will always come first. And that's hard sometimes, but I imagine it's even harder for Jay to carefully make choices that keep all three of us happy and functional.

Last but not least, and on a much lighter note,

7. Packer Football is some serious shit.
I mean I already knew that, since I was born bleeding green and gold - but the way the city comes alive on game days is pretty amazing. I was running errands the morning of our Sunday game a few weeks ago, about 8-9 hours prior to kickoff, and the stadium lot was already bustling with people in elaborate green and gold outfits, with way too much booze for 10am on a Sunday morning already under their belts. Packer Fans are intensely dedicated fans, and it's pretty cool to be a part of that.

Until next time, my friends. Enjoy the fall weather this weekend, along with some football/chili/apple picking/pumpkin spice everything.

*I realize it's more than likely that I'm actually no one's favorite Blogger, but sometimes it's fun to pretend. 

The One About Music

One of the least favorite questions I like being asked is, "What kind of music do you like to listen to?" It's really difficult for me to quantify my taste in music. I like music that speaks to me in the moment. I like listening to music that either matches the way I feel, or that makes me feel something, and that can been anything from Ben Folds to Sara Bareilles to Drake to a concerto by Bach. Over the past few years I've come to realize that I gravitate towards singer-songwriter stuff, because, despite how hipster it sounds, I love finding something that the world hasn't discovered yet; something full of raw emotion and brimming over with heart, and more often than not that's the genre where you'll find it.

When I was younger, I loved poring over song lyrics inside of CD covers and finding words that spoke to me. The leaps and bounds of growth in the way we listen to our music over the years and the introduction of iTunes made it even easier for me to find new music, and I would spend hours searching playlists and genres  like a game of hide and seek that I was usually fortunate enough to win. I'm not sure what happened, or when it stopped, but I haven't done this for years. I guess I just grew up and got busy with all the distractions of adulthood - jobs, responsibilities, and everything in-between. Recently, though, I've stumbled across a plethora of incredibly lovely music in places that I wouldn't have expected to find it, and it's re-awakened that old desire in me to search and discover. So that's what I did.

I wanted to share some of my favorite discoveries with you, because they're just so fun I couldn't keep them to myself. So, grab a pair of headphones and a cup of coffee, sit back, and have a listen. I promise you won't regret it. (A lot of these won't play here on Blogger, but just click the link to take you to YouTube and you can watch them there!)

So You Think You Can Dance Hits
Heard these two on SYTYCD over the summer and had to download them. Love listening to Gold Rush by Clinton Sparks ft. 2 Chainz, Macklemore & D.A. during my workouts, and Tank's cover of Bonnie Raitt's I Can't Make you Love Me is, in my opinion, so much better than the original.





Till Kingdom Come by Coldplay
First heard this in the new (well, it was new at the time) Spiderman movie. Love the guitar, love the lyrics, it's really just a very beautiful song.



The Gabe Dixon Double Feature
Occasionally, my company brings in people from various industries to talk about their experiences and how they manage their personal brands. Gabe came in to perform for us, and I loved his style. Very talented guy. All Will Be Well and Running on Fumes are two of my favorite songs of his.





Songs from "Parenthood"
Not only is this show phenomenal, it also has some really great music. Two of my favorites are High Hope by Glen Hansard and A Case of You, a Joni Mitchell cover by James Blake; both incredibly heart-wrenching, but in the most delicious way.





Joshua Radin
Just a guy and his guitar. Josh has so many great songs, but My My Love and Think I'll Go Inside are two of my favorites. They make me miss being in love.





Restless Heart by Matt Hires
This one is a great "This guy may be super hot but he's bad news and I need to psych myself up to stay away because it will only end badly" song. Plus, it has such a fun beat!



When the Right One Comes Along by Striking Matches
This song was covered on the show Nashville recently, but I prefer the original version. Love the lyrics and the way the vocals blend so well with the simplicity of the accompaniment.



Sara Bareilles = Love
She is my favorite female singer-songwriter, hands down. I love this woman, and I love just about everything she does. These are my three favorite songs from her newest album, The Blessed Unrest. She can write the hell out of heartbreak, as evident in Manhattan, which I listened to on repeat for three days straight when I first heard it. 1000 Times tells the familiar story of a dysfunctional relationship that we've all been through, and Little Black Dress is one of the best post-breakup songs I've heard in a long time.






Songs from About Time
I saw this movie recently and was surprised at how many songs I heard that had me frantically searching for them in Google Play. I highly suggest checking out the movie as well - it has such a beautiful message, just like all three of these songs; The Luckiest by Ben Folds, How Long Will I Love You by Josh Boden, and Gold In Them Hills by Ron Sexsmith.

The Story of Paul

Anyone who knows me knows how much I hate bugs. I can't even kill them because they squish and there's guts and ew. Just ew. When I spot one in my apartment, it immediately turns into a big event that involves the following steps:

1. Freak out and dance around while cursing up a storm.

2. Haul out the vacuum and wish for the millionth time I had one with a longer hose. (That's what she said.) Or a boyfriend. (Also with a long hose.) (You knew that was coming.)

3. Crawl up onto whichever piece of furniture is closest to said bug while praying I don't fall and break a hip because let's face it I'm 30 now and that's a real possibility.

4. Suck the bug up with the vacuum while cackling maniacally.

5. Immediately jump down and holster the hose so that the bug can't crawl back out in some kind of superhero-like feat of strength that's powered by thoughts of revenge.

6. Grab a huge black plastic garbage bag instead of the more appropriate small grocery bag because what if it touches me while I'm trying to empty it because the bag is too small?

7. Empty the canister into the inappropriately large black plastic garbage bag.

8. Tie it closed and run - literally, run - to throw it out the front door.

I wish I was kidding.

Late last week, while I was getting ready for work, I spotted a small brown house spider on the ceiling in my bathroom. He was just hanging out in the corner, minding his own business, and since I was already late for work, I couldn't commence with the above bug evacuation plan. So, I decided to let him live, at least until I got home. I figured he couldn't go far. I told him he'd better stay the hell out of my bedroom, and I left for work.

Well, apparently my laziness has finally overtaken my hatred of bugs, because as the week progressed, I spotted him quite a few times - in the bathroom, over the kitchen table, in the living room, but never in my bedroom - and I never got the urge to kill him. I really appreciated his willingness to abide by my "no bedroom" rule, and I also just didn't feel like climbing up on any furniture, so I figured he deserved some brownie points for that. He started to become part of my day. He spent most of his time in my living room - apparently he has the same taste in television as I do - so it was kind of like we were hanging out. I named him Paul. I said hello to him in the morning. I said goodnight to him when I went to bed. And he never set foot in my room, as per our agreement.

I guess you could say things were going well.

Until yesterday.

When I got home from work and changed into sweatpants and took off my bra (literally my favorite moment of the day) I realized I hadn't seen Paul all day. I glanced around the kitchen and the living room, but he was nowhere to be found. I warily crept back into my bedroom and searched the corners and the ceiling, but he wasn't in there, either. I immediately felt kind of bad for not trusting him. After checking the corners of the bathroom and the second bedroom, I concluded that he had probably ducked underground to hang out with his spider girlfriend or lay some eggs or whatever spiders do when they're underground, and I went about my business. I've been doing my best to drink a lot of water, so not long after my apartment-wide search, I had to go to the bathroom. 

And that's when a routine trip to the restroom became the stuff of nightmares. 

When I went to grab some toilet paper, I finally found Paul. He was hiding on the wall just behind the toilet paper. When it spun, it must have scared him, because he started skittering up the wall. I don't do skittering. I may or may not have jumped off the toilet, and screamed, and run out of the bathroom. 

And I may or may not have yelled, "Damnit, Paul. Damnit. Now you have to die."

Here's the thing, though. I was so pissed off that he'd hide behind the toilet paper like that, just to fuck with me, that I didn't even get the vacuum. I decided that, to teach him a lesson, he would die at the hand of said toilet paper. And so he did. It was quick, and painless, and I flushed him just to make sure he didn't come back to life and try to exact his revenge. 

And so, I dedicate this post to Paul. Our friendship, however precarious and brief it may have been, has taught me that no matter how tolerant and accepting I try to be, I am just not cut out to be friends with a spider.

RIP Paul

Married Men and Poor Life Choices

We've all done stupid things in our lives. Every single one of us. Like the time that I wore white shorts on a date when I had my period. For the record, that was one of the poorest life choices I've ever made, which ended with a frantic call to my dad from the bathroom of the restaurant and a jacket tied around my waist until he showed up with a spare pair of shorts to save the day. Believe it or not, my date didn't even realize what had happened until I told him about it months later.

The point of it is, we all make poor life choices, though they may not all end in disaster. However, there is one poor life choice that will almost always end that way, and that's choosing to get involved with a married man.

I am not here to tell you some deep, intimate story about any specific experience I've had, or any of the specific experiences that I've watched many of my friends go through - and above all that, all perpetrators shall remain nameless and faceless throughout this blog post. But I've been thinking about this a lot lately, and I decided, since I've never been one to filter myself, to write about it.

The one disclaimer I will make is this: I make no judgments. These are simply things that I have come to realize as truths as I've watched various scandalous relationships unfold throughout the years. We all make stupid choices. All of us. And no one has the right to judge anyone else for theirs. That being said, here we go.

Top 5 Reasons Not To Get Involved With a Married Man

1. He's Married
Shocker, right? But think about it. What if you were his wife? This is the first thing that always crosses my mind when I find out the man I've been talking to/dating is married (yes, this, unfortunately, has happened to me more than once.) I'll be the first to admit that there can be something attractive about a married man - the whole, "someone else wants him so he has clearly proven that he is dating/marriage material and he knows how to treat a woman" thing - but that's really the point. Someone else already chose to spend their lives being faithful to him; someone else is already waiting for him at home. There may have been once or twice in my life where I have entertained dabbling in this type of dating stupidity, but that's always the thought that I can't get out of my head that brings me back around to sanity. Which brings me to reason number two....

2. The Whole "Trust" Thing
Even if you did decide to say "screw it" and get involved anyway, really, how the hell could you ever trust him? How could you ever be certain that he's not going to do to you what he did to his wife? That he's not texting/sexting/dating three other women in addition to you and his wife? I mean, really, does that nagging doubt ever go away? On the flip side, during my recent foray into online dating, I was absolutely disgusted and appalled at just how many married men were out there looking for a good time - so much so that it actually put a lot of doubt into my mind about whether or not I would even want to get married in the future, because so few people seem to take it as seriously as I do. Hey - if marriage isn't for you, that's okay. Then don't get married. The correct answer is not "Oh hey, I do love this chick and/or I'm scared to be alone so just so she doesn't leave me, I'll get married and then do what I need to do on the side. She'll never know, and everyone wins." No, asshole. Everyone does not win. That woman at home who is faithful to you and does your laundry and puts up with your snoring and your always leaving the toilet seat up and your smelly feet? She doesn't win. Neither does the girl on the side, whose heart you are most likely breaking. You know who does win though? You. And that may be nice for you, but it really just makes you an asshole.

3. He's Not Going to Leave His Wife 
Of all the times I've watched friends get involved with married men, the guy has only actually left his wife twice. And ironically, both of them are still in very happy, healthy, functional relationships with those men. Of course there is the odd exception where the man is unhappily married for any multitude of reasons and you really are the love of his life, but this is the exception, not the rule. Unless divorce papers have been filed or are at least in the process of being filed, it's probably best that you wait... and even then, it's risky. There's a reason that there are so many sad love songs out there devoted to being the other woman. Hint: Just in case you didn't pick up what I was laying down, it's because you will always be the other woman. The plus side is, you will always have lots of sad songs to sing while you're crying into your ice cream. 

4. Yes, You Are Doing Something Wrong
I get it. You're single. You're not cheating. You're not the one lying to your significant other. But deep down, you still know that what you're engaging in is wrong. Even if you don't want to admit it, you still know it. And, in my very humble opinion, karma's a bitch.

And last but certainly not least,

5. You Know What Else is a Bitch? Unrequited Love
He always knows exactly what to say to make you swoon, doesn't he? He always tells you how beautiful and amazing you are, he knows how to make you laugh, he's always there when you need a shoulder to cry on (as long as his wife is at work), and all of the sneaking around he does just to steal a few moments with you makes you feel like the most gorgeous, most badass, most desirable woman in the world. Except for the fact that you're not. You see, he chose to dedicate his life and his heart to his wife, not to you. To share his house with her, to celebrate birthdays and holidays and rainy and sunny days with her. Not with you. Remember the episode of Scandal where the politician died in bed with his mistress? And Olivia Pope pointed out how awful it must have been to have shared so much of your life with someone and be left with nothing after his death? Yeah. That's what it's like. You have no claim over him. He's not yours. And even if he says he loves you, and he just might, it doesn't change the fact that he loves her, too. If he didn't, he wouldn't still be married. And if he tells you he's going to leave his wife, that he's just waiting for the right time - scroll back up and see #3, buy yourself a pint of Ben and Jerry's, cry until you're over it, and move on.

There are so many additional reasons I could throw in here, but these are really the ones that always cross my mind when I hear stories about women getting involved with married men. And perhaps even more disturbing is the fact that not only does the internet make it so easy to cheat these days, it also leads to an incredibly large gray area of moral ambiguity. Is sexting a woman you've never actually met or physically touched still considered cheating? It's just exchanging some pictures, or maybe some video, right? You've never actually touched her, so it's not wrong, per se. Right? Well, I think it is - but I seem to be in the minority. My rule of thumb is this: if I was dating someone, and I found out they were doing what I'm doing, would I be pissed or hurt? If the answer is yes, then it's probably not a good idea. But that's just me.

And so ladies, let's do ourselves a favor and avoid all of this bullshit. Dating is hard enough these days. There's no point in starting something that can only end, and badly, so let's just spare ourselves the heartache - and the calories - and stay the hell away from the married ones. Hashtag nothing but trouble, hashtag Ginger Jameson out.

Seven Golden Rings

Oh my God. I haven't blogged since September. That's insane. Where the hell has the time gone? I hope you all had a wonderful holiday, and that your 2014 is shaping up to be the best damn 2014 ever. Mine? Well, it's been pretty crazy thus far. I've written quite a few blog posts, and ended up deleting them all because I'm a crazy perfectionist and I just couldn't find the right tone. I started a new diet plan, and a new diet and fitness blog, but then gave up on both in favor of something much more long term, with the emotional support that I so desperately need. Besides, fitness blogs tend to bore even me, so why the hell would anyone want to read about the fact that "OMG I HIT MY H20 GOAL TODAY AND GOT MOVING, TOO. I WALKED TWO MILES. GO ME! #I'MAWESOME #ONEDAYATATIME #2014LET'SDOTHIS.

Ugh. No. Just, no.

I was off for a bit over the holiday but am back in the thick of things at work, ramping up for the quickly approaching 2014 tour season. And over the past month, I've watched not one, not two, not three, not four, not five, not six, but seven of my friends get engaged. That's right. Seven of my friends, in the past month, have started their journey toward "happily ever after" with the love of their lives. And Dear Sweet Baby Jesus lying in his manger, reading his little Baby Einstein books, learning about shapes and colors, I am so happy for them. So happy. Like, riding unicorns and puking rainbows happy. I love love, and I love my friends, and I love weddings (um hello, men in sexy formal wear and free booze? Sign me up!) so really, it's a win-win-win situation. Plus, what girl doesn't like to dress up and get her hair done and look like a princess stand next to her friend and support her on arguably the most important day of her life? Plus free booze! 

However. 

As a 30 year old single woman with only one dating prospect on the horizon (which is more than usual so I suppose that's a step in the right direction) and with the insecurities of a normal 30 year old woman and with boobs that are just not getting any perkier, every time another one of my friend's boyfriends slides a gorgeous diamond ring onto their finger, a tiny little part of my soul curls up into a ball, binges on a pint of Ben & Jerry's, and falls asleep after crying its way hysterically through Love, Actually. 

The no-holds-barred truth is this: my immediate reaction to engagement news is not elation and joy. That comes second. First, my stomach drops, and my throat gets tight, and I feel this heat spreading through my body and my head feels like it's floating away. After that passes, I am legitimately so excited for them, and love helping all of them plan their showers and bachelorette parties and weddings. But my initial reaction is always the same. 

This makes me feel like an awful, selfish, horrible, awful person. Just awful. But it's the truth.

One of my co-workers sent me the below blog post yesterday, not because of the 'single' part, but because she said this woman's writing reminded her of mine. I almost spit out my coffee when I read it, so the compliment was much appreciated, but I think what made it so funny is the fact that it's so true. In a vulgar, roundabout way, she touches on a lot of good, solid, real points. So, give it a read, and then come back here so we can finish this post together. 

Ten Things Your Single Friends Are Tired of Hearing

I think the most important thing I took away from her post was this: it is human nature to want to find someone to spend the rest of your life with. It is part of being alive. Am I jealous that my friends have found that, and I haven't? Of course I am, but just a little. And that doesn't mean I can't be over-the-moon happy for them, too. It's really not about the fact that I haven't found it yet. It's about the fact that, as much as I hate to admit it because I feel like it's letting my insecurities win, I'm scared that I never will.

So I was thinking about this last night. "Okay Ginger," I said to myself, out loud, while my dog looked at me like I was crazy. "Close your eyes and pretend you're 50 years old, and you've never married. What does your life look like?" And after the initial stomach dropping - head floating phenomenon, I was incredibly surprised to find that my life really didn't look that bad. In fact, it didn't look bad at all. I may joke with my friends and family about dying alone, but that's not what I saw. I saw happiness. I saw success. I saw people I love around me. And I saw the freedom to make my own choices, day after day, to enrich and enhance my own life. 

"You'll find it when you aren't looking," they say. "You can't be happy in a relationship until you're happy with yourself first. You're still young, you've got all the time in the world. You're too picky! But don't settle. You need to put yourself out there more." All of these things are probably true. But I know two things that will always be true: number 1, no matter what happens, I'm gonna be okay. And number 2, if you need me, I'll be shaking my ass on the dance floor at all of these weddings, drinking straight out of the champagne bottle. Cuz that's just how I roll.