spinster

"You're too old to have kids now, Laura. You're 23 and you're not even married!" 

"I'm only three years older than you!"

"Yeah, but I'm cute."

I know she's being funny, but I also know her well enough to know when she truly believes what she's saying. 

"Zip that cute face before I leave it on the side of the road." 

She laughs and makes the motion of a zipper across her lips. 

I love my job. I do. Even when they tease me. Even when a police officer ruins my favorite shoes trying to get me out of harms way. Although, I actually would have traded my ruined shoes for getting ran into (her hands were cuffed behind her back, there's not a lot she could have done!) that day.  Even when they embarrass me in front of the cute nurse, on purpose, and laugh about it as soon as we leave.  They're the reason I get up in the morning.

"Oh I really like that house!" I pointed to one with a wrap around, enclosed, porch.  "But maybe I should just stop looking since I'm never going to need any more space than a studio apartment because I'm going to be alone and childless my whole life."
"Yep."
An exaggerated frown crossed my face and she immediately took to groveling.  
"Okay, no, being serious now.  You will be a great mom.  You'll be old, but you'll be great.  You have to bring them to our house so I can play with them.  They'll call me 'Auntie.'  They'll all have beautiful hair, like you, too."
"I feel better now.  Thanks, girl."  I wasn't really feeling bad in the first place.  You can't do this job if you take everything they say to heart.  If I got upset every time I get called a 'fucking bitch,' I'd go crazy, myself.  Not to mention, 9 times out of 10, half an hour after 'fucking bitch,' comes 'I love you, honey.'  1 out of 10 times it's still 'fucking bitch.'
"You're welcome.  Now, just because you're going to have all these beautiful babies and live in a big house, that does not mean you can leave us.  I'll let you have the babies, but you have to stay our supervisor."
"I can't make any promises...what if the man I marry has to move for his job?  What if he makes sooo much money that I don't need a job?"
"Leave him.  We'll need you more."
I love my job.

winner.

In this troubling time of starting over, trying new things is important.  That was my reasoning behind deciding to hang out with a new group of people.  Going out of your comfort zone is essential for a newly single girl.
It was supposed to be a night with decent looking guy and his incredibly hot friends.  The decent one offered to pick me up on his way downtown.  Unbeknownst to me, we were not going to make it downtown.  
As it turns out, his parents house is close to my apartment.  We had a drink in his parents basement as he picked out a movie on demand.  Yes, I was trying to be bold and adventurous, but I still don't enjoying bringing up a subject to make myself even more awkward, like, "aren't we supposed to be meeting up with some sexy bicyclists in the Old Market?"  Instead, I sat there, in this man's parent's basement, and 'watched' one of those terrible spoof movies. 
When the movie was finally over, we left to go to the bar.  We didn't make it to the interstate.  We went a block north to what might be the strangest bar I've even entered.  The owners either couldn't decide on a theme, or thought it would be fun to try everything all at once.  It was called Bogies and it was a sports/karaoke/danceclub bar owned by a middle-aged Chinese woman.  The menu also had an identity crisis.  She couldn't decide whether to serve homemade chinese food or bar food, so she combined them.  The other customers were just as diverse.  There was the country bumpkin group in their cowboy boots and hats with flannel shirts in one corner.  Gathered around the pool/beer pong tables were the bros with their chains and sunglasses.  It even had the skinny girls in ugs and pajama shorts on the dance floor trying to shake their asses like Shakira.  Of course, I couldn't forget the table of very large women, each drinking pop straight from their own personal pitcher with a straw, waiting for their turn to sing Adele and get booed off the stage. 

I had finally worked up the courage to break the uncomfortable silence and ask if anyone was meeting us.  He had an excuse for why each one of them couldn't make it.  Que more awkward silence.  I continued to people watch as I felt him stare at me.  I could tell he was trying to find something to say, but as I had nothing to say, I couldn't help him.  Besides, I was busy watching a cowboy dance to lil Wayne.
Our silence was broken by his ringtone.  His mother was on the other end and even in the karaoke filled bar, I could make out yelling.  I gathered that someone at the bar had seen us and called her.  I also overheard the words "trashy," "little girl,"  and "take her home."  
On the way home, he asked my age.  I figured that was coming.  The bartender didn't I.D. us and his mother must have thought I was under 21 if she ordered him to take me home.  This sort of thing happened to me a lot, but usually in reverse.  People tend to assume I'm older, not younger.  This was not a night I wished to repeat, so I gave a coy, "you can't ask a lady that question" response when he asked my age on the drive home.  I hoped that by not offering my age, it would confirm that I was underage.  
When we pulled up to my apartment I realized that might have been a bad idea.  He awkwardly swooped in for the goodnight kiss while still in the car.  I pretended not to notice and 'fumbled' with my seat belt.  He cleared his throat and mumbled something about calling me some time. I quickly said sure and good night and almost sprinted to my door.  My heart didn't stop racing until I slammed the door shut behind me.  I immediately sunk to the ground in a fit of the giggles. 
I laughed until tears streamed down my face.  I am an awkward person, but I don't think I have ever experienced anything so ridiculous.  My fit stopped as soon as my phone went off.  He texted me.   
"love u hope to see you again soon"
I think I'm going to stay in my comfort zone for a while.  Trying new things is overrated.

mindy.

It's been a long time since I've been pulled into a comedy show. I never got into 30 Rock or Community and it took quite a bit of pressure from my friends to watch Parks and Rec. I was betrayed by television when Arrested Development was cancelled. 

My poor, fragile, 16 year old heart was stomped on by network executives with no idea of the damage they caused. 

I became absorbed in shows like Grey's Anatomy; shows that understood my heartbreak and helped me cry it out. Oh the problems of a white, middle class, redheaded girl in Nebraska. I still had The Office, and I did let Big Bang Theory in a few years later, but I had never let my wall down. 

Mindy changed my life. Mindy changed my life because my life is Mindy. No, I'm not a successful, sexy doctor with a disposable income and horrible dates with wonderful men. I work with people with disabilities and make a decent amount of money for a crazy cat lady to live comfortably. I can be hot (it takes some time). My dates are few and far between and are horrible not only because of my awkwardness, but because of the horrible men they include. I once went on a date that I didn't know was a date until he went in for the kiss.  That would have been an adorable romantic comedy moment had it been a guy I was actually interested in.

Oh and as far as dates with men I'm actually interested in go...let's just say that those make up the minority. I'm the girl that gets friend-zoned with the good guys, and gets chased by the hot bad boys or just plain stalked. Seriously, creepily, stalked. Side note: Why do the good guys always tell me I'm too good for the guy I'm seeing, but don't want to risk losing our friendship by seeing if it could be something more? Does not just happen to guys. 

Back on track: I am a hopeless swooner. I can romanticize a fax. I blame this on my unhealthy addiction to television.  I am a walking, talking IMDb, but I couldn't tell you everything I did today. Mindy restores my hope in life. Mindy restores my hope in me. Now all I have to do is move to New York, because that is clearly the place where a weird girl like me is appreciated. I just have to conquer my fear of leaving Nebraska. 

There is also a problem with following through on a highly romanticized move to a place like New York: nothing ever works out how I plan it. Although I'm definitely mean enough to fit in. 

Now, before I follow my train of thought down another scenic route, I need sleep and if you haven't watched Mindy, do it. It's the best thing those ridiculous executives have okay'd in a long time. For now, my heart is healed. 💜