If you’ve read my previous posts, you may know that I’m getting super weird around this date, meaning that I find most kinds of human interactions overwhelming or challenging, to say the least.
Honestly, there’s not much that leaves me with as much anxiety as an upcoming birthday. In my past experiences, you have to go through annoying small talk, people you barely know are giving you hugs, you get crappy presents, and it’s pretty much expected that you invite people to cake and drinks. (WTF, why would I have to invite someone if it’s MY birthday?) The prospect of all the potential awkwardness usually makes me wanna crawl into a hole and never come back.
But this year, my birthday has been preety great – even though I didn’t plan anything at all.
So I spent my day at work, which was normal, and then, I had a walk around Cologne and did some window shopping (more or less: I did try on stuff, but was underwhelmed. So all I bought were some nice lotions, that aways makes me happy.) Also, I was SO surprised by how many people have messaged me throughout the day. It was far from what I expected.
A few years ago, I probably would have made a sarky comment about people leaving a comment/ birthday wishes after Facebook invites them to, but today, I had the feeling that all the messages I got (on and off Facebook) were truly genuine. And honestly, they made my day. I was also really happy to get back in touch with people I haven’t really spoken with lately. It was great to reconnect. Therefore, to everyone who thought of me and sent a message: thank you so much! You don’t even know how grateful I am to have such amazing friends and “family” members in my life and I truly appreciated your messages and I loved the Skype conversations and phone calls.
Also, I was shocked to see what my roommates came up with. We’ve only lived togehter for a few months now, but somehow, they know my taste really, really well, it’s almost scary. Needless to say, it was an amazing surprise. (Though, on the other hand, I don’t think I’m that hard to please. Just give me wine and some pretty clothes. And if you throw in some skincare, I’m in heaven.)
Again, I had a wonderful birthday, so thank you for that! (Now I only need five more of these to erase my stupid anxiety :D)
A few years ago, that was the question I was aske dby a guy I was seeing at the time. I didn’t think things would go into a serious direction, since he never gave me a reason to believe that and our dates just consisted of random hookups. Besides, we both worked at the same bar and so the stories I heard didn’t exactly convey that I could expect more than these random hookups. And then, one night, he asked me that question.
I was definitely caught off guard by that question. Especially because he would have been the last person I would have expected to ask me this. But I started thinking about it, and I still am, roughly 5 years later.
So what if I put everything on the table from the beginning? If I was completely honest? I guess it would be very entertaining if I had an audience. Because the options are pretty much the following:
I hate you, but you’re unable to get non-verbal cues and also don’t understand when I’m being ironic. So in the “completely honest” scenario, instead of putting a special intonation on “Wow, tell me more.”, I would probably just say something like “That’s the worst story I’ve heard in my life” (- in my very German accent I have to say). But I also hate confrontation and I honestly see most of the things happening in my life as a part of a story that I tell other people. So if I’m on a shitty date but it has the potetnial of becoming the worst date in history, I’m staying. Just because it makes a funny story.
I actually like you but I don’t wanna fuck you. That’s the boring option. It happens all the time. But somehow, people don’t seem to understand it, even though it really is nothing but DNA compatiblity, or incompability for that matter. (I’m talking about kissing someone and if feels as if it was one of your siblings. Not in a Game of Thrones- way.)
I actually like you and I want to wear your skin. Slightly exaggerating here. But you get the idea. As soon as I really like someone, I’m becoming this romantic extremist who will show the same persistence in staying at your house as a roach. Not so cute.
And so, since I don’t want to come across as a crazy stalker or psychopath, I’m staying extra casual and I’ll pay attention to avoid certain topics – especially things that have to do with my family. No one needs to know how much of a nut job we all are. But I’ll also avoid talking about deliberately killing a Sims-family and having brutal fantasies about pigeons and a sharp stick, and of course your well-lotioned skin.
But then I start wondering: How would things be if I was more of a Ted Mosby? If I just told someone I very much appreciate, “I think I’m in love with you”? Besides of being fucking weird, I mean.
Tbh, If someone said that to me, I’d probably be like ” Oh thank you! – What’s your poison?” But considering that I make immediate judgements about people I don’t like, wouldn’t it also work the other way ’round? Which leads me to my main question: Why is it scary if people are openly into you (especially if that goes without weird movie references)? Why does it seem too much if they seriously put their cards on the table? Honestly, everything would be so much easier if everyone could just say “Listen, I’m a cannibal, I want to eat you.” – “OK, cool.”/ “Yeah sorry, not my thing.”. But no, we have this different set of codes which make it seem wo much more complicated.
Like waiting for 3 days before texting. I know, it seems outdated, but that’s still a thing. Or counting who paid for what. Seriously, what’s the point? Just bone if you want to. Or saying certain things too early. Who makes this timeline? Why would you have to follow a schedule?
Unfortunately, I’m internalizing some of the mindsets above.
Not because I’m unaware, but because I want any potential anything last as long as it possibly can. Which apparently includes being a little phony from time to time – and making up a socially acceptable profile, even though that includes negating your love for naked cats (as well as your appreciation of well-lotioned skin).
My birthday is coming up and I’m not sure how to feel about it.
Before you think: “Oh right, another chick who can’t handle getting older.”, I don’t care about my age. I’m actually somewhat looking forward to having white hair, wearing makeup that makes me look like a crazy clown and hopefully getting a much deeper voice which doesn’t sound like it belongs to a 13-year-old. (I always wanted my voice too sound more like Scarlett Johansson’s.)
Though there have been mulitple moments where I felt that I’m failing at existing – according to societal conventions – I don’t really care anymore. The last time the thought of having to be an adult stressed me out was right before my 18th birthday. But since then, I found out that pretty much everyone sucks at adulting. Besides, my family seems to have stopped wondering if I’m a Lesbian or not ever since and I’m also starting to find people amusing who ask me about kids and marriage. I’m actually looking forward to never having kids and just spend all my (fictional) money on designer and travels, especially because I can justify all that by quoting Schopenhauer – not that I have to. And I’m almost proud of being an eternal student. You don’t find many of us anymore. These teens nowadays…. they have become so serious, urgh.
However, I do put quite some pressure on myself. Just for the story, it would be so sad if my life was mediocre. So it can either be tragic (which it is already tbh) or fucking amazing. Like spending-all-day-yachting-with-my-friends-and-drinking-champagne-amazing. I don’t wanna be that tragic figure. (Besides, every tragic figure becomes really annoying over time, that’s why they always end up killing themselves. And I’m over that.)
So there really is no other choice than becoming great. No pressure at all.
But what I really don’t like about birthdays is being the center of attention. Well, I don’t mind being the center of attention, I just want it to be for something I deserve.
But being born is not an achievement. Neither is staying alive, even though that would make much more sense to me. (Besides, I actually like listening to the BeeGees.) But we’re not living in the 1800s anymore, where sudden infant death was a real thing. And thanks to the stigma, being mentally stable doesn’t count as an achievement either.
So I don’t really see the point of celebrating my birthday. And if it’s just for the milestones, I prefer having a party for each single one of those. Seriously, why would I wait a year if I can can get drunk immediately?
One of the first things my roommates asked me after I moved in was the date of my birthday. So apparently, they’re going to plan something. I just hate that thought. I want to spend a normal day doing what I always do and not having to have stiff conversations around a diabetes-causing cake that’ll make me nauseous. I also don’t want to open shitty presents and smile politely while thinking about throwing this new [insert anything unnecessary/ ugly /unwanted / all of the above] in the trash or reusing it as a gift for someone I hate (or date; I just noticed how similar those two words sound).
I also think that birthdays fall under the same category as NYE. People put so much pressure on them, it has to be the best day of the year. But – surprise! – it rarely is. So you most probably end up diappointed. The birthdays I remember were days of weird family get-togethers and food poisoning (the real one, not induced by alcohol). And of course birthdays where I felt that something special should happen, but that just wasn’t the case. Instead, they were just like any other day, or even worse.
All that is the reason why I just don’t wanna celebrate my birthday. In my opinion, birthdays are just a compilation of awkward moments. So if you want to make me a birthday present, just spare me.
And it wasn’t about the topic, really, everyone has the right to be grossed out by whatever they want. What I found problematic was the delivery. It’s some pathetic dude claiming to be a man because he hasn’t washed his sheets in 7 months, but a drop of menstrual blood is too much for him to handle. Seriously, why does that even make a comedy routine?
If you think about it, sex in itself is pretty disgusting. All these bodily fluids getting mixed up – and I’m not even thinking of anal here. OMG. It’s just a very wet and sometimes smelly business. From a purely reasonable point of view, people would probably not have sex. Because if you take out the “I’m hormy” part, it’s just not appealing. (Those who continue to watch porn after they cum might know what I’m talking about.) But we have hormones and shit that keep us interested in icky stuff. And in my experience, that doesn’t change for when a woman is on her period.
I know lots of men who don’t mind at all if it’s that time of the month or not. Now that I think of it, I haven’t dated a single man who had a problem with having sex while me having my period. I took it more or less for granted and sometimes, I even wished they were more like “I’ll give you a massage” instead of like “I don’t mind, we can do it anyway”. And that’s not because I didn’t like their approach, but because there was so much going on inside of me already that I didn’t need the extra action down there.
However, I always saluted their mindset. I mean a good pirate also sails the Red Sea. So I’ll take an overzealous lover over a scared one every day of the week, just because I prefer their mindset. Besides, there are so many benefits that come from it, so why not? Just because you don’t want to ruin the sheets? Lol.
Of course, everyone has the right to be grossed out by certain things. I guess period blood is not for everyone, as is having semen on your face or having anal sex (just to give some examples). But labelling period sex as gross (as that stupid comedian did) is just wrong imo. And I just hope that most people just stay open-minded in general, and won’t put degrading labels on stuff or actions or even people. Everyone should just do what and whoever whenever they want.
I’ve talked about my past on the blog, including the complicated relationship I’ve had with my body since an early age (9 years, if I recall it correctly). Today’s post will not be focussed on the past, but on the goals I set for myself for this year.
Tbh, it’s not even a goal I was aware of until recently. But maybe I give you the entire picture.
So by the end of last year, I thought it was a good idea to track my habits – drinking, eating, exercising, you name it. I kept a log of everything. And before I knew it, I also lost some weight, and I was down to 54 kg (119 lbs). I remember how surprised I was about how easy that was, it felt like just a second and BOOM! six ponds less. But I also noticed that it was kinda sad. I mean I was counting my fruit intake. The last time I did that was a few yers ago when I was in completely different, unhealthy phase of my life, where I restricted myself of fruit because it contained too much sugar. But then earlier this year, there I was, counting how much fructose I was consuming per day.
The feeling of success by losing the weight I didn’t need to loose was not bad at all, I actually was kinda proud. But then I remembered how I spent my teens and how boring that was. (I seriously was the most boring teenager you can ever imagine. I didn’t drink, I didn’t date, I just went to school.) I also remembered the appointments at the doctor’s, the blood draws, the charts, the doctor’s threats – if you don’t stick to the weight gain schedule, we’ll admit you to a hospital (and everyone knows that includes intravenous treatment, which is scary AF if you’re fucked up).
So I was happy that I was still able to control my body, but at the same time, I kept asking myself “Why are you doing this?”. And so a few days after reaching the 54kg mark, I was like “Why am I doing this?” Then I went out to get not just one but three bars of chocolate and I ate all of them. (And did not throw up.) That day, I finally got to the conclusion that life is just not as fun if you’re depriving yourself of the small pleasures all the time, and I made the commitment to myself that I would focus more on working out than on how much I eat.
So far, it’s been a good experience. My belly is a little rounder that usual, but I kinda like it. It makes me feel more sensual and womanly, which is not a bad thing at all! In addition to that, I just got more curves in general. For the first time in my life, I’ve got something like a booty, and I think it’s amazing. Also, for the first time ever, my face looks normal. See, I have a very small frame when it comes to my bone structure. My face used to look super narrow. So having a little extra texture on my cheeks isn’t bad at all.
I don’t even know how much I weigh atm. I also couldn’t care less. For the first time in my life, I feel like I’m having healthy habits when it comes to nutrition and working out. (And even if I’m working out every day – which could be looked at as some sort of pathology as well – I think it’s helping me a lot with where I’m at mentally.)
Right now, I’m enjoying the pattern of working out more in order to eat more. And I think it’s made me more easygoing and attentive to my needs.
I’m finally sitting here with the glass of wine I’ve been craving since noon earlier today, I had the weirdest day and kind of started it in a bad mood. Funnily, it was thanks to my students who – let’s be honest – I usually find a little annoying, though they’re also very sweet, that my mood has tremendously improved throughout the afternoon. Anyway, today is my rest day and I’ll also watch the dramatic finale of the German version of The Bachelor later tonight, so why not have some wine to go with it? Besides, my goal for the future is becoming one of PLL’s wine moms. Though without the basement, of course. And now that I’ve written the longest and most unnecessary introduction that has ever existed since the literary era of realism, I can get to the topic I actually want to write about today. (I’m even putting it in italic letters, so if you don’t like long introductions, you can just skip it. Oh, I should have mentioned that in the beginning, my bad.)
Ok, where do I start? If I was a contestant on The Bachelor, I’d say “I feel so blindsided!!” and start sobbing pitifully. But guess that would be slightly exaggerated in my situation, because I’m talking about a two-dates situation. Though in the Bachelor world, being crushed, devastated and losing faith in humanity would totally count as an adequate reaction to not getting a third rose (not even date). Maybe I should apply after all. I mean I already like booze, pretty dresses, free travels and exposing my soul to total strangers. Oh and I wouldn’t mind getting instafamous either.
So I was texting a guy I’ve been on exactly two dates so far after I met him through an app. He actually looked like on his photos and I didn’t hate our conversations. Actually, he was not the kinda guy you’d normally see on a dating app. However, he kinda stopped texting me back not too long after that (which is never a good sign of course) and even on our second date, there were a few awkward mix-ups already. But hey, I’m somewhat optimistic sometimes and so I didn’t mind having someone asking me about playing the violin even though I’ve never touched an instrument before.
Anyway, when I sugessted that we meet up this weekend, he told me that he’s gotten serious with some other chick in the meanwhile. First of all, seriously? How serious can you get with someone in the course of two weeks? And secondly, if you started seeing her before, why even bother meeting me? Especially if she’s really, I mean REALLY awesome. But I guess everyone understands what I’m implying here.
Somewhere in between many more mean, cynical and sarky thoughts (which I won’t share here, I can be really mean in my head), I also started wondering “When is the right moment to discuss what kind of relationship you want to have with someone?”.
As I mentioned in a former blogpost, I’m not opposed to an open relationship. But I think that in order to get there, you have to have a phase of plain monogmay where you get to know each other and especially each other’s boundaries, insecurities, doubts, daddy issues etc. to well establish a certain amount of trust before inviting other people in. Imo, if you don’t do that, you’re just a horny hippie who will most probably need all the drugs you can get just to be able to go through the drama that ensues (in addition to the 17 puberties you’ll have to deal with).
But how do you bring this sort of thing up on a first or second date? When I watched Netflix’ Dating Around, I was actually shocked by how quickly they spoke about future plans and about having children. They hadn’t even had dessert yet! I can’t even describe how weirded out I’d be if that happened to me. But then on the other hand, I will never have the same clarity within the first couple of dates as the people who ask these questions.
But maybe, I like the uncertainty. See, I knew from very early on that I’m not that much of a people’s person. Mostly because I like individuals instead of people in general. I also knew from a quite early age that having a career is more important to me than having an amazing social calendar (except if the social calendar is related to my career). I highly value being independent, to the point that I can hardly imagine living with someone I’m involved with romantically and who I can’t just ignore like my roommates. I guess all these things together are part of the reason why I don’t want to have kids and even why I dislike dogs. But when it comes to dating, I’ve noticed that actually many people fit in rather stereotypical, conservative patterns. Everyone seems to be looking for something secure, a sure thing, something that has the potential of lasting forever. And marriage of course. (My only reasons to get married would be the dress and the party.)
So you can probably say that I don’t exactly convey the security of a stable lifestyle. I move all the time. (I’m not even kidding, I moved 11 times in the last 10 years.) I like putting myself first. And I hate the idea of doing the same thing or person for the next 50 years to come. To me settling down sounds like a death penalty, which I’m very much opposed to. Instead of getting a Golden Retriever, I want to travel the world and experience things. I definitely don’t want a conservative suburban life. But maybe that’s too complicated. Maybe I should want to wear mom jeans and just be happy. Maybe I’m too difficult by wanting someone who’s adventurous but also knows what he wants instead of trying to keep all options open. Maybe I should be less difficult and lower my expectations, just as some rather simple people have told me to. And maybe I should be less career oriented and valuing family more. Well no, that won’t happen.
I want to spend my time with someone who shares the same values and who isn’t afraid of commitment. Someone who prefers complexity over comfort. And who’s also insanely hot and smart AF of course. But then again, dating just isn’t a priority for me, even though I have to admit that I do own a copy of Matthew Hussey’s book. But I’m way more interested in communication techniques in general than in attracting guys and finding love. However, if by any chance, you’re a hot guy with great intellect, feel free to drop me a line. But only if you’re a cat person.