Social Detox

Since I have had a smart phone I have struggled with social media use. I don’t mean that I don’t know how to use it but that I use it too often and often in a way that hurts me. I obsess over why some guy that I am interested in stops talking to me. Trying to figure out from their social media interactions on what I did and why I don’t quite live up to what they want…

It’s not a healthy thing. It never has been. I get sad. I look at old pictures. I do embarrassing things such as accidentally call through Facebook messenger when I was just being lazy about viewing their profile (recently I did this, like literally last week). And for what? Do I get any benefit out of it? Do I get any joy? Does anyone ever call back (Ayyyyyy guy I called through FB messenger)? Do I get anything that makes me feel fulfilled and set with myself? No. It’s an addiction. So I’m going to try and quit, or at least take a break to then return with a more positive motivation.

I’m just tired of putting myself into a negative feedback loop of looking at all these guys that I’ve had some sort of relationship with (whether one night stand to seeing one another) and trying to figure out the moment it went wrong. The moment they thought it was okay to leave without saying anything, or saying something hurtful, or be flaky, or I am the one to be flaky and hurtful.

I want to focus on other things and I know social media is an excuse to procrastinate to not focus on those things. Because those things are hard and take work and effort and it’s easy to get lost in seeing other people’s achievements, travels, and relationships. I’ve caught myself thinking more about what I’m going to say about the things I’m doing instead of living in the present. I think about the way I portray myself to the world and hope that whoever I see next will think I’m cool and interesting and worth being with… And what should dictate that is me, not my social media. So goodbye for now Snapchat, Instagram, Facebook. Maybe I’ll return when I’m well and ready, hopefully I never do. Ironically enough this will be posted on Twitter.. but whatever. I’m a hypocrite and not perfect. I just wanted to talk myself through why I need to do this. Making a public declaration is helpful in stopping something. It holds you accountable… Maybe I’ll turn more to this blog and actually write up more posts! I’m sure you reader would love more stories of heartache with poor grammar. I know I do…


All My Lovers Are Moving to Florida

Why would anyone choose to move to Florida? Month after month there’s some story about the terrible things that are going on in Florida; some person ate someone’s face, some alligator ate someone’s child, some hurricane hit and the state needed to be evacuated. Well ironically enough, all of my old loves/ lovers are heading down to the Sunshine state.

It first happened when the guy I was seeing this past year got a job down there. Sure we did long distance for a little bit, but as they say long distance never works out. Sure I was crushed. Sure I cried through the heartache for a couple months. Sure I think about it now and again and get sad… But you know you just have to bounce back and go put yourself out there and meet new people.

So I did. I met a guy in Montreal who happens to live an hour away from where I live. So we hit it off. When he got back from vacation post Montreal he invited me to stay at his place. I thought he lived with some roommates in the city but no I was wrong… He lived at home. So that weekend when I went to go stay with him, I met his brother… and his mom… and his grandmother… within a month of knowing him. Sure we had a nice time together. Sure we went out dancing and I met all his friends on top of his family. Sure we haven’t talked that much since. Sure we’ll text here and there but he hasn’t made an effort to see me since, even though I’ve invited him down. (Is it me? You can tell me it’s me. I won’t be upset). My point, this guy is also in Florida currently for a job. When he told me he was going to fly down for work, I relived all the PTSD of the heartbreak I experienced with my previous love. The trip I took down to see him before I started my new job, the trip he took up to see me after I started my new job, the phone call the following weekend which ended the whole thing… All because of Florida. It’s ok Florida, I would take your sunshine over my sadness any day too.

But the kicker was this week. An old flame gave me some interesting news… That he got into a medical school nearby! I was excited that I would have another person I know close by! But I realized that we can’t be friends, since we had previously hooked up and he’s been with his girlfriend for years now, and that we would probably never hang out. So while I was creating these scenarios in my head, he proceeded to tell me that it’s between around here or South Florida. And I threw in my towel. Ok Florida. You can take another one. What is it about you? Is it the beaches? The alligators? The job prospects? You’re going to be underwater in the next 5-10 years the way climate change is happening. You helped vote in Donald Trump! Fine, take all of them. See if I care. Clearly I don’t. That’s why I wrote a blog post about it.

I’m Jack’s Complete Lack of Surprise

Dear readers,

It’s 11:30pm and I can’t sleep… My how the hours change as you get into the working world. I’ve been watching a lot of Friends and feeling especially self-loathing and self-deprecating the past week and a half. I can’t seem to stop the racing thoughts to let me go to bed. I decided to come back to my little blog of sadness and love, and write down what ever comes into mind. I don’t even know what this is supposed to be.

I watched an episode of Friends where Chandler said “I’m hopeless and desperate and looking for love.” which made me laugh really hard. Then I found the youtube clip, watched it another 2 or 5 times and burst into tears. The same tears that the Spotify Discovery Weekly playlist recognizes and uses to put in every dance/ remix/ mashup version of the song Bound 2 / Nobody to love. I’m glad that even modern age algorithms can pick up that yeah, I am tired of loving with nobody to love. Glad that Spotify knows my emotions. Or are you, Spotify, also tired of loving with nobody to love and are trying to send me a message? Am I being selfish and making this about me? Should I show you more love? I know I’ve been with Soundcloud a lot more lately but that doesn’t mean anything to me. We’re just hanging out.

Even now as I lay here I think about how all my thoughts are all shaped by lines that I’ve internalized from TV shows. “Your girl is lovely, Hubble” from Sex in the City, when Carrie understands why Mr. Big is with the woman that he’s with instead of her. Which lead me to think about Mr. Big and Carrie and their on and off again relationship. How can a person stay in your thoughts for such a long time? Why does closure happen for certain things but not others? Why is it always about timing? How do you get back to the level of just friends? Why do you start to tiptoe around? Are Mr. Big and Carrie really good for one another or are they just overly romanticized? So what makes you love their dysfunctional relationship?

I’m not going to bore you with more thoughts or questions dear reader. They’re the things I need to answer for myself. I just needed to write them down.

Like a Virgin

I have a couple posts that have been sitting in my drafts but the past two days I have gotten some inspiration to write. I have been listening to this AMAZING podcast called Guys We F***ed [] (pretty much the same idea that inspired this blog ie what I want this blog to be but I’m not as funny) is inspiration number one. Inspiration number two is the guy I lost my virginity to looked at my LinkedIn this week (What’s with all these LinkedIn boys – see Hot Med Student Kid). I have been thinking a lot about the night I lost my virginity so why not write about it.

I had my first kiss at 15 with my first boyfriend. It was sweet, in the rain, romantic, everything that the movies played out a first kiss to be. Unfortunately, my first boyfriend was emotionally abusive and from the first week we dated there was never a week that we didn’t fight. His family was very religious and stressed no sex before marriage. Although my ex boyfriend was not a virgin and I was we actually never had sex, the year and a half I was with him. After a year and a half of making me cut off ties with all my friends, controlling my life, and telling me that I was “book smart but not street smart,” he broke up with me. I was heartbroken, felt like I lost what little control I had, and became incredibly depressed. We got back together a couple times and after the last time we broke up that was it. I couldn’t go back, the little hope and trust I held on to was gone forever. I had a really supportive group of friends who helped me through the break up and were helpful in supporting me in not getting back together with him. It was a summer of fires, beaches, and being there for one another. In that group of friends was a set of twins A and B and they were about to be heading off to their freshman year in college. In that set of twins was a twin I was really into, all through high school, Twin B.

My senior year of high school comes. My ex boyfriend and I chat here and there and he wants to get back together (maybe it was power thing, we were AWFUL together). I kept saying no, that I needed some time, that I needed to figure it out aka stalling not getting back together. I thought that with time he would change his ways and we could get back together, but I was 17 and naive. So I decide to go visit Twin B at the college in October. My dad drove and dropped me off to my fate (little did he know). So I get into Twin B’s dorm room, drop off my stuff, and go to the dining hall with him. My ex-boyfriend calls me and it’s hard for me to hear him so I ask if I can call him back and he FLIPS. I hang up the phone and he started texting me how he only needed to talk to me for 5 minutes, why couldn’t I give him the light of day, why wasn’t I answering? I see where he was coming from, I was visiting a guy in college but my ex and I weren’t together and I owed him nothing. If he reacted differently maybe I would of stayed a virgin later into my life, hell maybe I would’ve never had sex and this blog wouldn’t exist.

So I turned my phone off and get back to the reason why I was there, to spend time with Twin B. Twin B and I went to a house party had a beer, went to the frat quad and we didn’t go in anywhere because I looked so young with braces and all (I was a hottie at 17. Glasses and braces. Oh Baby. It’s a miracle I lost my virginity). So we just went back to his dorm room. We decided to watch a movie aka the universal sign for lets make out and fool around. Twin B was also only the second person I had ever kissed. At the ripe age of 17. We don’t do anything more because his roommate was in the room, sorry roommate, and then we just go to bed. The following morning, when his roommate woke up to go shower and study, we started fooling around again. After a while I was like you know what, get a condom, lets do this. So, Twin B did. He put the condom on (yay protection and not yet being on birth control!) and put his penis in and we had sex. For some reason I always imagined that my body would feel different, or that something would happen, but nothing did. We talked about it afterwards and I didn’t feel any different, I didn’t feel like I was initiated into the world of the sexually active. I just felt like me except now I had to strip this label off if anyone asked me. We got breakfast, I hung out with one of my friends who also went to the same college, and then my dad picked me up later that day. It was like any other day.

We’re going to stay 18 forever

I sometimes wonder if my blog ever gets big if there’s artists are going to come back and sue me for using their song titles/ lyrics for titles. Honestly, I’m just not that creative with titles. But every guy I guess inspires some lyric that goes with them. Mainly the stories I haven’t written is because I haven’t thought of a clever enough title yet. Kudos to Brand New for this one.

Done with my rambling. This is to reflecting back to being 18 and naive and finding comfort years later.

Freshman year of college is arguably the best year of your college career. You’re fresh out of high school with new potential to meet new people with similar interests. You don’t know anything so you can arguably get away with almost anything. At the end of the night you end up back in your hall, cuddling with your friends, and it’s socially acceptable to keep your door open always to invite people to just come in and get to know you. A simpler time.

How does freshman year and this title go together? Well I was really into punk music going in from high school to freshman year. I listened almost exclusively to Brand New, Set Your Goals, Four Years Strong (you know those soft intro into punk bands bands), and would go to shows with my friends. One of my friends was in an art class with this one guy, lets call him Tim, who she told me a lot about. It was so long ago that maybe this friend can weigh in on how I actually met Tim but I think it was just that we happened to hang out in the same place and just got to talking.

Long story short, second semester freshman year rolls around there was an incident on our campus. Everything that we had planned got canceled and it ended up that a small group of us got together and Tim was there and we got to know one another and talked about whatever…. I honestly don’t even really remember how everything happened but he got my number and then one night he texted me late at night to come over to his fraternity. Years later I would find out, our mutual friend was the one that told him to just go for it, before I even knew said mutual friend. And guess what it worked, I came over. We did a quick hi as I came through the door and it quickly lead to a kiss. As we tried to go to his room it was occupied by his roommate and some girl he was seeing. So instead we had to find a different place which turned out to be the hot tub that they had. Again, a hot tub in a fraternity house. So romantic and so sanitary. (A girl in my biology lab later compared the bacteria in the hot tub against the dirty river next to our campus… Sooo sexy).

Anyways, we finished and I slept over. I left pretty early in the morning expecting never to talk to him again. But we did. I messaged him about a show and soon we started hanging out, going to some punk shows, me sleeping over and him sleeping over my place. During this time my bitch of a roommate, who by the way had her boyfriend sleep over every night, got upset with me when Tim came over after a barparty one night and slept over. Granted I should have told her before hand but she came in at 3am, freaked out, took her bedding off after making a commotion and proceeded to sit outside the room, sulk, and not talk to me even after I engaged with her because he slept over once since I started seeing him. Needless to say I ended up moving out of the room and up a few floors.

So things are great with Tim but of course we never have the exclusive talk. Because why have the exclusive talk? Ignorance is bliss as some might say. I was terrible and led guys on with no intention of sleeping with them because at the end of the day(night) I wanted to see Tim. Then it finally happened. Around spring break, almost a month and a half of us seeing one another Tim became distant. He wasn’t as responsive, didn’t seem to want to talk, and when I came back and slept over I felt so uncomfortable and wanted to leave the whole night because he clearly didn’t want me there. In hindsight, I wish I did. So finally we talk and he breaks the news, he started hooking up with someone else and was going to see her. I mean, as he said it, we weren’t exclusive. Even though I wanted to talk more about it and get closure he kept avoiding me and making excuses, even though I still hung out at his fraternity house. And then he went abroad.

I was so upset about it for so long. I remember I messaged him while he was abroad and it was just so strange. Like he felt annoyed that I wanted to talk, and he might have been.  I sure have felt that way about people, I just decided to take it personally back then. One thing that helped me during the semester he was gone, now my sophomore year, was this girls art project. She created a black box into which you can go into and read a letter to a person that you wanted to. I wrote him a letter and recorded it in that box. It was the release that I needed. After he came back abroad I still found it difficult to see him but faked it because I wanted to still be friends with him. He acted so cheery and happy like nothing happened, like we never happened, like I got the closure that I wanted, and I faked it along. He started dating a girl long term and I started seeing other people and always wondered what if.

Four years later, it seems like a common trend, more posts about that later, he comes back into my life. He visited the area a lot for work so we would randomly run into each other in the halls of campus. One time I knew he was in town was because of Tinder. I always got a little upset because he said he wouldn’t message me when he was in town and the only ways I knew he was around was when I literally randomly ran into him during the time he was visiting. Every time. Then after going to an event on diversity and race he invited me to go out to the bar for a friend’s birthday. I was exhausted but I went for a little bit, accidentally got drunk, had to stay and win the dance off, and then as I left he kissed me good bye. Four years later he kissed me goodbye. I was so confused. Why now?

We continued this for a couple months, only kissing nothing more. He would come over and we would have long talks with my roommate and then he would leave. Months after that incident he was back in town and I thought I loved someone and told him how I met someone (spoiler alert : jokes, I was not in love, only fooled into thinking it, drugs man. Crazy things). He kept asking me about it and finally one time when he was visiting and I was crying into his arms, no questions asked, I told him about the stress of grad school and the stress of the guy I ended things with. Again, he was there to comfort me which I appreciated. He came back to visit again and after we got to go into the hot tub at 1am after we talked the desk clerk to let us in he kissed me. But this time I decided to go into his room. And he said something that stuck out, “How nice it is to be with someone familiar”. I was a little offended. I thought I was glad I can be some sort of comfort but to use me as a comfort felt insulting. I left and drove back home because I had class and work and didn’t feel the need to stay and sleep.

That night gave me the closure that I needed. So many years later and it was the instance that made me think, why did I care so much about this in the first place? Closure is an interesting feeling, that all the sudden you come to peace with everything you were upset with before. It all connects and makes sense you can close it and put it away. So although I was naive in my young age, hell still naive at my old age of 24, at least I can come to peace with it. I still think fondly back to those times freshman year and think, “We’re going to stay 18 forever.”

Dr. Spaceman

Dear readers, I’ve been watching a lot of 30 Rock, as in I finished it for the second time this weekend. This post is both inspired by Dr. Spaceman and my gynecologist. Enjoy.

I have been getting pap smears and going to the gynecologist since I was 17 yeas old, aka when I started having sex. Now around my senior year in college it turned out that I kept getting abnormal paps and needed to see a gynecologist outside of the University provided services. This is where I was recommended to Dr. Spaceman, all credit to this joke goes to 30 Rock and Tina Fey.  Well the first visit was fine. I had a Colposcopy done and Dr. Spaceman decides to tell me all about his daughter, who if I remember correctly is about 5-6 years older than I am. While he is inserting things into my vagina he’s just talking about her. I know it’s to make me feel comfortable but I really don’t want to hear about your daughter as you are about to look at my cervix. After the procedure I left the office shook up, called my mom, and cried. It wasn’t from anything the doctor said/did but the fact that hey we’re checking to make sure you don’t have cervical cancer.

After that initial visit, the tests came back negative and I had to wait a year and get another pap, normal procedure. Well this time I come in, a year later, waiting in my paper gown and Dr. Spaceman comes in. First he does the normal breast exam, sees my tattoo and decides to read it. Which is fine. I’ve had female healthcare professionals do the same exact thing. Then when he starts to do the pelvic exam, which if readers you don’t know, a doctor inserts two fingers into your vaginal opening and presses down to check your ovaries and uterus (again someone correct me if I’m wrong with terminology and what they are actually checking for. Would not want to spread false information). As he is about to do this, and he knows I’m Russian, Dr. Spaceman asks me, “What do you think about the Crimea situation?” You are about to put your fingers into my vagina and you think that the conversation to have to put me at ease it my political thoughts about Crimea?  I don’t remember anything about the exam except for having to talk to my gynecologist about what I think about Putin’s decision to annex Crimea. Anyways, the pap came back fine.

I like to get myself tested for STDs pretty frequently. So while I was taking a break from Dr. Spaceman and our yearly meet ups I decided to go to a free clinic, because even with insurance, paying for healthcare services is a bank robbery. So I go, see if I qualify for a study (because in the name of research), and wait for the nurses to come in. The first nurse turned out to be so empowering when we talked about my sexual health. She said and quote “Have as much sex as you want with whoever you want but always make sure to be safe since it’s your body and you should respect it.” I practically cried in the office.

My next nurse turned out to be a Ukrainian nurse practitioner and we had my appointment in a mixture of Russian and English. I told her about the research I do and she seemed very impressed. So after talking about my sex life, her giving me another bag on condoms on top of the bag of condoms I got when I came in she told me I could be on my way and she’ll call if anything comes up. Well halfway on my drive back to work I get a phone call where the nurse practitioner asks me to come back. I immediately start freaking out. So I come back in and she just told me that she felt something odd during my pelvic exam and wanted to get a second opinion. I change back into the paper gown, put my legs up in the stir-ups, and wait for the second nurse practitioner to come in. My legs were in the stir-ups, no underwear, ready to be examined, and my initial nurse practitioner turns to the other nurse practitioner and tells her about how I work in research and they both ask me to elaborate on it… I talked to them for a good 10 minutes about the research I do, legs up, vagina out. Again, they must be so used to this that talking about something novel was more interesting than looking at another person to screen them for STDs but I was shocked. I needed to get back to work and now very much so exposed I had to talk about the type of work I did. Everything turned out to be okay, my uterus is just shifted to the left a little bit.

Lets go back to Dr. Spaceman. After the last pap smear it was again my third year in to go see Dr. Spaceman for my yearly pap and check up. The appointment went fine. I brought up that I wanted to get an IUD since now instead of my birth control being free, my new insurance made me have a $10 co-pay with it. Robbery. I have been fine with the pill for so many years now, except when I had to switch around for new pills and went crazy, that paying $10 was the breaking point. Again, he mentioned his now 28 year old daughter that also has an IUD. Great. My blood tests came back negative except I was deficient in Vitamin D. I literally have to take prescription strength vitamin D. Looking for requests to workshop a pick up line involving vitamin D and the D… “Guess what vitamin I’m deficient in? ;)” #NeedTheD

So the exam went fine but something came up and we had to hold off on the IUD procedure. When Dr. Spaceman and I talked on the phone one of the first questions he asked me was “How do you meet the guys that you meet?” Okay, understandable that you want more information to understand my diagnosis but again so odd. So a month later when I went in for a repeat procedure he brought this up again. More specifically, he brought up Tinder. My doctor is now interested in my dating app use. I told him that the only people I sleep with are people I met in college or people my friends have introduced me to, and while I did have a Tinder, for less than a year, I don’t use dating apps anymore due to wayyyyyyyyy too many bad experiences. Maybe I should have given him the URL to this blog.

I guess while all of these things are incredibly routine for doctors and health care professionals it’s the little things that seem out of the ordinary when I go on these visits. It’s always nice to talk about something that is outside of what you do day in and day out, I do get to come out of these visits with some stories to tell me friends and get a laugh out of people. Personally, I wanted to laugh at the situation while I was in it. But that would be unprofessional.

Is it worth it, let me work it.

Maybe it was my wallet being stolen, maybe it was this tweet that should be funny but actually got me really upset [], maybe it’s the episode of Master of None that talked about feminism but today I got to thinking about worth. What is a woman worth? What is a woman’s opinion worth? Why is it that worth is measured only in gain and money? Can my worth be measured in compassion, expression, love. The simple things. Why do I have to impress society while society beats me down into the ground.

Readers, it’s 2:11am. I haven’t been able to sleep. I feel very sad and I feel a lack of worth. Maybe it’s because an old fling and I were familiar again, maybe it’s my opinion and input not mattering, maybe it’s the fact that I am lamenting over 7+ years of being single. What is my worth? Is it outside of love? I have had this conversation so many times that you don’t need to be good at everything. Maybe the things I am good at fall outside of love. And that’s okay. I think this post is to say to myself, I know you have loved deeply and many, but it’s okay. There are things that give you worth that isn’t love, that isn’t sex, that isn’t gender. It’s okay to separate myself from that to move my life towards being human, to trying to understand how to be selfless. The things I should be good at are outside of being in a loving caring relationship. They’re not for everyone. You don’t get everything you want.

I hear all the time that it’ll work out; I need to look for someone nicer, outside a certain group, somewhere else. And it all ends up being the same. We have some drinks, we have some laughs, we have some deep meaningful conversations (or sex), and then it fades, it ends, the timing isn’t right, we weren’t exclusive, it’s casual, you’re cool but, you’re chill but, you’re fucking insane but, I think you get my point. I’ve come to a generalization that all the guys I turn out to be interested in are terrible, don’t know what they’re looking for, or looking for something better. I have had too many guys make me feel like I wasn’t the better, I wasn’t the worthwhile one. I’m sure a lot of people can empathize with me here too (guys as well, this isn’t supposed to be a man hating post). It’s finding a way to see your worth that is outside the perception of others. Your worth is not made by others. I still struggle with accepting that and moving forward. It’s not an easy thing to do.

This blog post may make no sense, might not be worthwhile to read, doesn’t have a fun quirky story about some guy I slept with but it’s the selfish thing I needed in order to get some sleep and clear my thoughts. Goodnight readers, thanks for taking the time to read this.

PS Credit to Missy Elliot for the title from the song “Work it”. Very clearly the song and my blog post go hand in hand.