Well hello there! We meet again. And how are you this fine autumn eve? Glad to hear it. I’m enjoying the nice fall weather… and by that I mean, the high 80s with a chance of fire. Oh, you might not know but I live in Los Angeles. I didn’t always live here. Actually, let’s take some time to get to know each other, shall we?
I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area, about an hour east of SF. Yep, those were the days. I drove my first car. I had my first kiss. My first and second boyfriends. My first org-... Sorry, too much too soon? I get it. I was going to say, my first organic produce. OBVIOUSLY.
Strolling down boyfriend lane... My first boyfriend was a sweetheart. We met right when freshman year began. All I ever wanted on this earth at 14 was a boyfriend. A man to call mine. He was "mine" for about 3 or 4 months until I broke it off- and I never kissed the poor boy. Oh well.
We're Facebook friends.
NEXT. How shall I preface this? Well, in one of my standup sets, I refer to my second boyfriend as "Ronald McDonald". He was a tall freckly ginger who looked like he’d never take a puff off a cigarette. He did more than that, though. Oh boy did he. He almost went to jail once. Here I am bragging… He would go off experimenting with any hallucinogen or nicotine-based drug he could find and then lie about it later. I wasn’t into drugs of any kind at the time (even clove cigs) but I stuck around because… young love. Basically, he was my first love and my first broken heart. So, he can kiss my round tuchus.
About a month after he broke up with me, I started dating my third boyfriend. He was my college boyfriend. We were glued at the hip (well, my hip to his thigh… he’s awfully tall) for about 4 ½ years. I broke up with him. We had reached a point where two people who had molded into one were finally breaking off into their own persons. I slowly, and also suddenly, realized I needed to leave the boy to become whoever I was supposed to be. It was slow in the sense that we were growing apart without knowing it- until one day I knew. It was abrupt and gradual at the same time. It’s been almost 2 ½ years since the breakup…I’ve started to figure myself out.
He is a true friend of mine now. Our friends are honestly not surprised. We had established a deep and meaningful friendship throughout our relationship and once we stripped the relationship part, the friendship foundation was still there. We butt heads every now and again, but that happens when two people were once so close. I know him better than most. He knows me pretty well too. He lives in England now with his girlfriend and they make quite a fine pair. I like to say- I did that. (Alright, I broke up with the man and they happened to meet. Obviously it wasn’t my doing, but like… come on. I had a part.)
Now, here I am. 2 ½ years single and 27 years young. I’m a standup, writer, cat-owner, and I like to sing in the shower. I like long drives with music blaring and incense burning while downward dogging. I am slowly but surely figuring out who I am as a person. I used to not be a workout person- now I am, as we discussed in my last post. I used to write in my journal once a year or whenever I needed to vent, now I write every single day. Writing gives me a sense of purpose. I wouldn't have figured out any of these aspects of myself until I went through these heartaches and life lessons.
What gives you that sense of purpose? That spark? Walking through a trail of golden brown leaves? Smelling cold ocean air? I am actually embarking on a solo trip to Boston in a week, so that’s where my mind went. Don’t fret, I’ll make sure to tell you all about it. Ah, that’s my time. Oh shoot, we didn’t talk about you! Well, shoot me a message and tell me about your passions. Your breakups. Thoughts, questions, concerns. We’ll tackle it all! Bye for now.
