Heartbreak Apartment

31 Mar
Some girls cry when they go through a break up and stop eating and get really skinny and depressed. They want to stop accepting things IN and let everything OUT. Let out the tears, let go of 5-10 pounds, let go of every emotion they’re feeling through facebook, their diaries, their friends. The color in their face goes, and maybe they stop caring about what their hair looks like.
I on the other hand do the total opposite. In dealing with heartbreak, I acquire things. Since Monday, I have purchased two pairs of shoes, several pairs of underwear, shoe inserts to keep my heels on better, DVDs, the internet, tons of groceries, a potted orchid, and a purse.  I keep everything in. I don’t want to talk about it, I don’t want to think about it, I just don’t care to waste my time one second longer than I already have. I snap out of lala happy land and transition to keep myself too busy to think mode.  Naturally I snap every once and a while and go tourettes on myself and use language my sister gets mad at me for using. (She doesn’t like to hear the F word, which is awkward because I love the F word. I think it’s funny).
I paid all of my bills, paid of some credit card debt, and actually put my rent check in the mail on time. I’ve scheduled an oil change.
I’ve gone shopping in my office’s amazing supply of hair, makeup, and skin products, making my bathroom stocked like Cate Blanchett’s probably is.
I’ve been eating. Definitely eating. Not a ton, but DEFINITELY not less.
I’m busy. ALWAYS busy. The minute I wake up I spend my day at work doing things all day long. I’m getting a bike. I’m planning a weekend getaway to a resort in Phoenix (my grandparents luxurious home), and one of my best friends of all time is coming in 2 weeks THANK GAWD. I’ve made an appointment to get eyelash extensions and a fake tan.
Right when I get off work my browsing begins. I look at everything. I wander in and out of any and every store. I flirt back with all the weirdos that hit on me. That feels nice. I feel like I’m on crack all day long. There’s something about getting great sleep every night that makes you feel buzzed the next day, right? No? Hmm.
I’m still getting dozens of messages on my stupid online dating site. I’m thinking about WriterNoir, an enormous, long haired, wrestler type in a suit holding flowers (his picture).
Ok so I’m not actually interested in him, but…. what if…? Woof.
My apartment, more or less, looks like the precious beginning of a life long hoarder’s apartment.  I still haven’t cleaned up after my family’s visit, so I have shit just everywhere.  Sunflower seeds litter the floor along with my underwear and socks. I have plastic shopping bags full of my new things sitting on every surface.  My bathroom/kitchen carpet is still rolled up, keeping the mini glass pokies away from my feet from when my mirror fell and broke.  You have to understand, I’m too busy getting things, eating cheetos and wine in bed, and being not home to put my new things I’m getting where they will end up belonging.  Nancy asked me today if she left a small red box at my house. How the hell would I know? You know your apartment is messy when you only have two rooms to find something in… and you can’t find it…
I got my hair “trimmed” aka butchered so it will be in a bun for the next few months, but my bangs look good again so…. fuck.
To hell.
(There goes the tourettes.)
Last night my mom told me not to worry because all of her friends are having a great time dating in their 40’s and 50’s, so I only have 20-30 more years until dating becomes fun. And at the rate I’m going, and clearly my mom thinks so too, I will still be unmarried and dating complete fucking idiots who love wasting my time and energy and trick me into thinking they’re nice people but who really are just selfish pricks but who still want to be friends and spend all their time with you.
So for now, I have some amazing Dolce & Gabbana summer wedges, an enormous pile of trash to take out, and great hair and skin products. My life in a nutshell.

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