It’s been a hot minute since I had the energy motivation to write anything, but I’m pretty sure if I don’t write soon I will explode with what 2014 has given me thus far. Plus, I’m currently watching the “Sex and the City” series finale, making my ovaries the first thing to explode. I’d prefer the domino effect cease and desist at that.
Let’s begin with December 31, 2013 at approximately 9:30 p.m. because that’s exactly when I met my soulmate. And I’m Maury-paternity-test positive of this. It went a little something like:
goes to random party in my college town, sees guy I met briefly during sophomore year that (at the time) had a crazy dramatic girlfriend, relates on mutual friends, drunkenly rides mode of transportation to local bar together, parts ways until 11:30 when you realize you have all of thirty minutes to part the Johnny Walker Red Sea and find him where you proceed to make out with him at midnight in front of God and half the people you graduated with, makes (vague) memories
We may have gone home with each other. We also may have broken rogue NFL Christmas ornaments, but if you don’t want them broken, random friend of soulmate, don’t leave them in my war path. In the bright a.m. hours of January 1, 2014 we cuddled in front of his friends. It was adorable, unexpected, and kind of chilly in my bar clothes from the night before. It was like a fairy tale.
We made plans to see each other later that night, exchanged numbers, and parted ways. He had to go back to med school. Yup. That’s right. Med school. I’ve never been one to dream of marrying a doctor or lawyer because I am the one to know I could just be a doctor or a lawyer myself, but it’s un-Southern of me to look a gift worse in the mouth. We’ve found common bonds in sports (primarily football, because obvs.), Call of Duty, the SEC, and the s-e-x. It makes for a solid foundation that is actually functional IRL.
January 2-present has been borderline shitshow crazy, however. I drove cross-state through this effing “Polar Vortex” which was super fun. I peaked at a whopping 45 mph on an interstate, making Formula 1 drivers everywhere super jelly. Let’s please remember that I begged to come back to Kentucky from Florida for a month before this. I’m bumming on my best friend’s couch because I’m, OH YEAH, still unemployed. I even got an “over-qualified” rejection because someone couldn’t afford to pay me the extra two bucks an hour to justify my employment [insert obligatory “Thanks, Obama” here].
As if my life could get slightly more depressing, Auburn lost last night in the final BCS Championship game evv-uh; but, just then, my life began to perk up due to my soulmate and I doing some über bonding over the loss. The conversation may have taken a turn for the less-clothed when I decided to keep my big girl panties on and make it clear that I wasn’t just in this for the D. In response?
“I mean I like you but you should know I really don’t have the time for a real relationship, I’ll just put that out there”
Damn you, med school, for being both a blessing and a burden to my hopes and dreams.
This is where you encounter the Sybil that lives in us all. My brain accepted this as a legitimate excuse. My estrogen did not. So I played that shit off like a relationship isn’t even what I was hinting toward (it was) and that he just really intrigued me to get to know him (which is true). I then proceeded to Google all the crazy out of me before I called it a night.
I woke up this morning like a bitch on mission. I cleaned my friend/now-temporary roommate’s apartment, tried to learn how to be a plumber to unthaw her frozen pipes without bursting them, applied to two jobs, convinced my friend to begin working out with me tonight when she gets home from work by sending her old bikini-clad #tbt’s of herself as motivation (I figured out while jumping and screaming at the TV last night that I am terribly out of shape), spent a lot of my day seriously deliberating grad/law school (because if I’m going to be unemployed, why not?), and wrote this.
If he can be busy, then so can I.
He apparently isn’t too busy, though, because choosing not to text him today resulted in him texting me–while he was still in class. Holla.
Post-Grad and a Broke Bitch 