Twenty One Pilots.

This is my fourth coffee. And I’m so far from being awake. Fuck man.

I feel like with most things in life, my girlfriends and I have pretty normal. Steady jobs, psychotic animals, good parking skills, alcoholism. However, the one thing that always blows our minds when we get together to bitch? Our relationships – with somehow married men, commitment-phobes, immediate stalkers, ones that knock you up and pretended it didn’t happen, a secret (but not really that secret) polyamorist, those crazy obsessed with blow jobs in public – the scenarios get more unreal every time. “Wait. His name sounds familiar…and I’m seeing a guy that says the same shit. Lemme see a pic. WHATTHEFUCKHE’SDATINGUSALLANDHE’SMARRIEDTOOHOWDIDWENOTKNOW.” Yo. That Lifetime channel would make a shit ton of money off of all of us. But. Even with all that fucked up experience, we all still willingly put ourselves out there, and love hard.

My last ex wasn’t terrible or anything. He tried, usually. There were just some pretty rough happenings towards the end. And he basically woke up one morning and said we’re too different and that it wouldn’t work out and he probably didn’t love me anymore. Look. I’ve always believed that when you love someone, for real, that love doesn’t just up and disappear as some fleeting, stray thought. Yes, it gets tested; yes, it gets stupid hard; yes, it gets all the stupid feels. But at the end of the day, it’s still there – it survives. When we were together, I often was emotionally alone, and he was aware, but couldn’t do shit about it . “I can’t show emotion, that part of my brain doesn’t work – if you need that, I can’t be that guy.” At least he was honest right. But stubborn me thought time could change that. Stubborn, or stupid, or both, take your pick. Days passed after our parting. None of it made any sense, and I was in drunk (and high) mode for a hot minute. One of the toughest things to accept was separating from his family – we all clicked from day one, and they had zero qualms accepting me in. But, that’s life. And even though time did zero for him before, it did a lot for me. I finally understood why we had to call it quits – our lives greatly improved by not being together. I went on to build my life in Columbus, and he got California. That chapter closed.

Nowadays, I love showing up to brunch (well, before I started bartending on those days) or to Oddfellows (not our go-to bar, at all) and getting settled with a beer or mimosa, and all of us purging out our guy shit. “I even texted him and clearly stated that I was naked, and he responded that he was busy taking his dog outside,” Girl, he the gay. “This guy always tells people when we have sex. Like every fucking time.” Wait. Does mommy know he’s out there playing man in public? “So he’s visiting Columbus for five days, ‘for me.’ But he only plans to see me for one of those days, saying we should go slow. Why?” Let’s see. You know how there’s underwear for every day of the week? Well, sub out undies for women – you guys are not exclusive.

Okay, okay. I should stop bashing for a minute. A few of us did somehow meet really great men that find our quirks amusing. “He likes when I send random gifs about politically inappropriate things during the day.” Oh, right, sexting.

And look. A guy that sits out and stargazes with you, just for the hell of it and just because it was on your bucket list – and you both somehow see a shooting star at the same exact fucking time, right next to a baby lighthouse on the lake? And this is the same guy that would sit and talk on the phone for five hours more than once, because it felt so normal? And so much other ridiculously unreal shit? I would’ve never seen it coming, and that has been one of the best parts so far. Well. That and we can do hoodrat Korean shit together. But shhhh, don’t tell him that. (;




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