Dealing with breakups is never an easy task, for anyone. The thing that makes it even harder, is having constant reminders of that person, essentially every where you go.
- Their name sake. Obviously. I don’t think I’ve been able to look at another guy with the same name as one of my exes and not have queasy / uneasy feelings or nostalgia. Hearing the name makes me A) want to run and hide, B) puke until my stomach is inverted, or C) just teleport to my bed, take a xanax and sleep it off. To say a strong reaction results is a huge understatement.
- Bon Iver. I’m currently trying to still listen to Bon Iver without thinking about the emotions tied with certain songs. Goddammit, Bon Iver, why do you have to be so lovely and emotional and heart wrenching? Oh, its hipsterlove.
- Being an avid sports fan. I’m very loyal to my local home teams – the SF Giants and the 49ers. Meeting other people in New York means clashing with fans of different teams. Being a girl, they expect me to dial down my enthusiasm so they can exert their superiority and pretend like their team is the best and they know what they’re talking about. This is rarely the case (me dialing down my enthusiasm, and other people knowing what they’re talking about), so I either compromise my sports fan ideals for a man (its rarely reversed), or move on.
- My Birthmarks/Freckles. One of my exes always pointed out every little sun spot or freckle or birthmark (what is the difference), I had all over me… some I didn’t even know existed. It was real cute… until they admitted their ex had one in the same spot I did. Now I’m left constantly wondering if my ex will say to their next girlfriend, “My last two ex girlfriends had a birthmark right there”. I mean, that’s totally something you go over when you cover all the bases the first date, right? In the meantime, I can totally laser remove this birthmark, right? AKA Can I wipe away this terrible memory?
- My Expectations of Foreign Men. Highly exaggerated? Probably, yes.
- My Hair. Someone once helped me convince myself that it’d be a good idea to cut my hair into a short A-line bob. It was cute for a bit … but I’d rather have not been convinced (It SUCKS trying to figure out a way to put your hair up – all those layers, all that shortness.. don’t even get me started on the hassel its been growing it longer). Unfortunately I can’t blame that one time I died my hair red/copper color (an subsequently resembled a Japanese tourist) on a significant other or man of my past… my own fault.
- Man-Oogling. A bunch of the guys I’ve dated have been extremely jealous. Even to the point where I’d be watching TV and comment on how hot Jon Hamm, or Ryan Gosling, or Robert Downey Jr. is looking, and he would blow a gasket and legitimately get upset about the fact that I wasn’t concentrating such energies in telling him how hot he looked. Ridiculous, right? Anyways, every time I look through magazines or watch TV etc. I feel incredibly guilty thinking such thoughts about good looking men. Like, Aaron Rodgers will come up on TV, and I’ll stare and drool for 5 seconds, and like a dog trained by an electric fence, jerk my head away and hush those bad thoughts. Kidding…slightly.
- LUSH Dirty Soap. The smell – a cross between spearmint and Old Spice, gives me nausea. Thanks to a great employee discount at LUSH, I’d often buy Dirty Soap (one of the products streamlined for men) for man friends. I’m not sure if they actually liked the smell/soap, or if they had too much fun saying “I’m going to the shower to get Dirty” or “I’m a Dirty boy” or “Dirty boys need to get clean”, etc. (okay I threw in a few I made up on my own, but you get the picture), either way, they used it, so with my great employee discount, all I smelled was Dirty! Now the fumes just make me want to projectile vomit.
cheers to singledom and being haunted by your past!!!