Sometimes I just do not understand myself.
Or maybe I just can’t be Posh without my plates. Thank goodness I pick them up in 4 days. Then maybe.. just maybe I’ll be a normal person again. Maybe.
Many of you have been reading my adventures for a while, and one in particular that really eats me up on the inside is this single life I currently live. Calling single life an adventure is definitely an understatement. It’s freaking c r a z y. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not all looking for marriage and babies tomorrow.. psshhh.. all I want is a possibility. Is that too much to ask?
Ok wait, I’m slightly digressing.. aside from these possibilities I’m apparently looking for, the issue here is in the first sentence.
For those who know me, my nickname Posh, suits me well. I’ve got some edge, some sass, and at times I’m bitchy. I have been known to break hearts. I’ve had my moments of picking, choosing, passing aside, throwing down ‘friend cards’ and even making them chase. I lived through my 20’s knowing that if I played it right, I only bought myself one drink out at a bar. Some may argue, well why even buy one if you are SO good? Well, the boys need to know what I’m drinking right? And that way they think I’m being nice instead of straight up acting like a mooch. Now don’t start judging.. because in the end, If I find someone worth it, I become the most loyal and loving person you’ve ever met. I have witnesses. I just have to weed out the crazies first.
Anyway, I’ve lost it. All of it. The past month or so, I’ve even been TRYING. What is this trying you say!? I’m still confused at the idea. I meet a cute guy and before I find out if they are gay, married, or taken with children, I am at a loss for words. I melt. I’m am 13yr old with High School crushes. I’ve become a Gigi. I fumble my sentences and turn red in the face. I’ve even been wasting a whole lot of money on my own drinks. Damn I tell you.
Maybe it’s karma.. the universe getting back at me in some sick way, taking away my ability to be picky.. but I just can’t wrap my head around the idea of my confidence being slightly damaged, or in more simple terms.. the idea of what the eff happened to me?! Where did Posh go? Where did my fearlessness run to?
I’ve spent 8 months not even batting an eye for the mere fact that I was so very happy to worry about nothing more than myself. But I guess it happens to the best of us.. when we aren’t looking.. someone always has to walk by.. twice.
Like it matters anyway because the best I can even come up with in a conversation is “I love French people”.
Right!? What does that even mean?! Ugh.
I’m just hoping for the best come Thursday, when Posh will be official in CA. Maybe the aura of my plates will ignite a new fire inside me. Maybe.