There is so much going through my mind right now. I’m blown away by the response of my first week into blogging. It’s not just the stats and numbers; it’s the calls, texts and emails I have received from people I haven’t heard from in ages. People who are sharing their stories with me, giving me advice, offering to pass my blog to their friends and family…amazing!
And the comments. I LOVE the comments. It sounds silly, but for every new one I feel like a little piggy bank, just collecting more and more knowledge. FEED ME. And before I continue, my West Virginia University Communication’s Professor @johngcole has been an unimaginable help. If you are reading this because of him, thanks for joining.
OK, can we talk about being a single lady for a minute? It’s not a big deal anymore. 24 or 44, no one really cares whether you sleep alone. If you’ve been following, you know I’ve had a string of relationships (and really that’s just the tip of the iceberg). They haven’t worked; hence I will check the ‘single’ box on my tax return this year. I don’t care. I love being single. Being attached really freaks me out.
Being attached means something I’m not ready for. I’m young, my tits and ass are still in the right places and my desire to have children is a thought so far in the future that I bet they will have flying cars by the time I’m popping one out. Or growing one in a box. I always imagined that I wouldn’t have to do it the old-fashioned way. Childbirth is terrifying.
But I’m off track. The reason I bring it up is because I feel like I can still be selective when it comes to the dating scene. I’m not desperate and I’m so wrapped up in my big transition that dating new dudes is pretty far from my mind. Last night I am out with Mark and Brit (see pic below) and this guy comes over to me and chats me up. That’s well and good, until I politely decline his invitation to dinner. “Are you a lesbian?” WHAT?! Yes, I’m a fucking lesbian and that’s the ONLY reasonable explanation as to why I don’t want to spend an evening with your mouth breathing, eye-raping, cheap whiskey-smelling self. You’ve got me. Mind. Blown.
In more important news: Today I put a $110 check in the mail, along with a new passport picture and my old passport for renewal. It came to my attention that it expires May 2014, and that just isn’t gonna work for me. Once my new passport arrives I can apply for the Work/Holiday Visa in Australia. I’m going for it. Because of your advice, some research and the fact is, yes, this may be my LAST chance to do whatever I want, whenever I want.
Last night I also had a second interview via Skype for an agency in Austin. They’ve requested references. This is a good sign. I’m just not sure I’m ready yet. I should be jumping for joy, and I am excited, but I’m also seeing things from another angle now. 14 days left in NYC. Do I go after the full-time job with security and benefits or do I follow the “embarrassment of riches” in choices I have? Richard Branson said, Screw it, Let’s do it! But he owns an island.
One more thing. I’m having dinner with N tonight. He’s introducing me to a buddy of his that owns a couple bars in San Diego, in case I go out there. Weird fact about Irish people in America. They all know each other and they all own bars [insert stereotype here]. I’m actually nervous. When I think about leaving him I get anxious. N is N and I’m not sure a country or an ocean can change that.