Jenn's blog

So I’m still living the college lifestyle for a little while longer, meaning I can sleep until noon, stay up until 3, shop whenever I want, and basically be excessively lazy. Except the downside to all of this is that once a semester midterms roll around and I am inevitably buried in the library catching up on all the reading I skipped since the beginning of the semester.

So instead of my mindless drivel filling the pages, Ashley offered to write something for me. And then proceeded to tell me how it was so hard to write this and oh my goodness I have writer’s block and whine whine whine. But she did it and it’s kickass so you better read it.

I mean it.

♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦ ♦

So Jenn is holed up “studying” for midterms right now (or mass texting me and a few others at 4 in the morning. *COUGH*) and didn’t have time to post so she asked me to take over. I don’t think she quite understood what she was getting into.

First, my name is Ashley, also known as Ashalah. Second, whenever I promise to write something for someone I develop a horrible case of writers block. So now it’s 18 hours later and I’m still scratching my ass over what the hell I should write about.

I thought about all the embarrassing shit Jenn has told me that’s made me spit out my water/coffee/wine with just how ridiculously funny/awful it is and maybe I could share some of those.

But then I could see her never speaking to me again while plotting to murder me in two weeks when she comes to visit me. Not a goal I want her to have.

Either way, she’s young, she has fun and makes me envious of her life on a daily basis. I used to have her life; I used to date a lot, get in sticky situations, wonder how my life had turned out that way and rarely had a “dry spell.” (if you know what I mean wink wink) Then I got older and started wanting….I don’t know if more is the right word but I stopped liking dating. I got to the point where if I could have hired someone to go on the dates for me, I would have shelled out a lot of money.

When I was 24 and newly single, my idea of a successful date was if I couldn’t find my underwear the next morning. Now, my idea of success is if I could go out on a first date, yell FUCK at a basketball game that isn’t going as well as I planned and the guy thinks I’m cute for it.

I’ve gotten a little sick of the game. I used to love it all–the dinners, the drinks, the endless activities and getting to learn about all these different, good looking guys. I was wined and dined and was living the life, as they sometimes say.  At some point though it became dull. I’d be eating the same chicken franchaise, drinking the same vodka sodas, dipping bread in the same olive oil and answering the same questions. I’d go on dates where the guy talked only of himself. Dates where the guy would be rude and leave mid-date for a party, leaving me with a half full glass of sangria, sitting alone at the bar. Dates where the guy couldnt stop complimenting my hair/smell/nails/nose piercing/smile/ears/feet and I’d want to stab my eyes out with a dull spork.

I would go home at the end of the night, praying that I never had to hear from them again and inevitably would get a text five minutes later that would read that they had a GREAT night (Seriously? You thought it went great when I avoided your kiss?) and hoped to see me again. DELETE. I would claim that I would never date again.

But every once in a while a guy will surprise me. He will be easy to talk to, it won’t feel like an interview and we will spend five hours laughing, flirting and making fun of each other. Of course I rarely hear back from the ones I actually like but in the case of the latest, I have a second date out of it.

So while I’m simultaneously jealous of Jenn’s hilarious love life and detesting the dating world, it’s always good to have a little hope sometimes because sometimes you get a win out of a lot of fail.*

*I may be singing another tune should this date turn sour.

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