Ribbon Dancing

Today I threw back the covers and went to Zumba. It was exactly what I needed - a chance to shake and jump and punch and pretend to be a badass motherfucker who will fuck you up in between some sweet merengue moves. And to top it all off we got scarves to run around with like ribbon dancers. The Ribbon Dancer was one of my all time favorite toys up there with the Skip-It.

I got dumped on Friday. Kind of out of the blue. Now that I've dissected every conversation we ever had, I think there were some very tell-tale signs. But I was blindsided on Friday when I was getting ready to meet him for drinks. Such is life.

I figure that since I tell you about spitting up on myself in spinning class and suddenly being overwhelmed by the need to use the bathroom mid-run, that y'all should get the privilege of knowing that my love life is a cross between a Judy Blume young adult novel and an episode of Jerry Springer.

So I'm on my second failed relationship for the month of May. What have I learned from this experience? (The answer is probably nothing but let's at least pretend I learn from my mistakes and that I'm not doomed to repeat history like the Germans.)

It's time for me to be single. I've got to let go of the hurt I've been carrying around since I was 15. In many ways, I am still 15. This isn't going to happen if I just keep moving from one relationship to a pseudo relationship to a hook up buddy to another relationship over and over.

When someone tells you he doesn't believe in the Second Amendment and has an Obama campaign poster in his bedroom, you should quietly remove yourself and not come back.

Rushing into things may seem romantic, but it creates an artificial attachment. How can you really know someone and have feelings for them in a matter of weeks?

Never build a common bond on your favorite things. Now Arrested Development, a shot of Dewars with a side of Bud Heavy, One Direction, Frankie Valli, Sheep's Meadow, and hazelnut coffee all carry feelings of sadness. These are things that usually make me feel happy.

The last guy (before this one) has temporarily ruined the Museum of Natural History, Guinness and a shot of Jameson, Teddy Roosevelt, Shake Shack, and the sociologist Erving Goffman. Never share a favorite president and a favorite sociologist. You're asking for heartache.

So I took 3 days off from this running challenge. Whatever. I'll figure out a way to redeem myself. On Friday I was hungover and then spent the rest of the evening crying. Had I known that I would be dumped in a few hours, I would've ran earlier and saved Young and the Restless for the night I spent in bed.

Ciao Bella Key Lime gelato

Yesterday my mom came and picked me up. I sat on the couch in a swoutfit and felt sorry for myself/watched an Awkward marathon and cracked up a lot. Season 2 starts June 28. Can't wait.

Sweat shorts are the best invention ever.

Today I had one of my best effed up ideas of all time. In order to better understand why I am the way I am, I invite anyone I've hooked up with in the past 10 years to go for a run with me and share some feedback. You can tell me how I fucked up, acted nuts, and/or blatantly disregarded your feelings. You can also tell me I am incredibly awesome and highlight my finer qualities. All I ask is that you let me summarize your feedback on this blog. I promise to protect your anonymity and you can even choose your own nickname. In exchange for your time, I'll buy you a post-run beer. Email me if you're interested.

After going to the beach with my dad, we hit up Fairway.
I found the Magic Pop station. The fresh ground honey roasted peanut butter is delicious.

I will leave you with a parting question- Can I steal this last guy's favorite guacamole and margarita restaurant? He doesn't live in that neighborhood anymore and he was probably breaking all sorts of relationship codes by bringing me somewhere he used to go with his ex (anyone else watch The Secret Life of the American Teenager?). I think that a strong margarita is a great consolation prize.