MOTHER FUCK, FUCK, FUCK.
I keep saying I need to "work on my language" and every time I say it- I'm just saying it to please people, to lessen my "offense", and what not. I don't mean it, at all-when I'm taking back my fucks. Every time I say it my whole heart is behind it, and my heart is out almost ALWAYS... FUCK is very often the word I NEED to use to express what I'm feeling, and yes, some would say that makes me sound like I'm ;uneducated, have a difficult time expressing my emotions, lack the words for better communication, troubled, etc. In my opinion, if you can't say "fuck" you have the communication issues, not I my friends.
Any who, this blog isn't about fuck, fucking or the origin of "fuck."
The thing I'm saying "fuck" over tonight is, why THE FUCK, do I always need everyone and their mother, their extended family, their friends, their doormen, their accountants, their toothbrushes, their maids, and everyone in their damn life circles- to like me?
And though I'm the first to say, self sufficiency is the only way, or "I could live the single life forever" "I'm so BUSY", or "I keep a close circle because it's 'quality over quantity;", they're all perfectly acceptable sugar-coated responses to questions regarding my singular status, romantically or otherwise, I would prefer to not have the need to whip them out as often as strippers whip out titties.
Its funny, cause actually- I think I tend to give off the "I'm so cool, I'm so cool, I'm so freaking cool." vibe, that most people think I don't give an EFF. I've been told I'm "intimidating" more than...12 times? And intimidating, to me, translates to "I think you look like a scary bitch."
So maybe they just think I'm perfectly dandy and fine every time they don't invite me out, validate my awesomeness, sing my praises, ACKNOWLEDGE MY MOTHERFUCKING PRESENCE, ETC. but really, no, I'm not fucking fine. Yes, I make plans alone, I plan vacations or ridiculous unplanned moves, completely by myself- I know what kind of wine I like and not having anyone to answer to works out just fine. But when it comes down to it, I'd like to have the option of having someone to alert when I'm deciding what to do for the evening...Or for instance, I spent a solid 13 minutes trying to decide between Sprite Zero and Diet Dr. Pepper at the pharmacy, I wanted to ask the woman at the cash register, "light or dark?" since, I simply couldn't make up my damn mind.
So tonight, when I had an "appointment" to look at a potential apartment (long story short, I was supposed to move in with friends on the 15th, they told me roughly 4 nights ago that, their other roommate was staying put- well, FUCK, thanks. I have 10 days to FIND A PLACE (that's affordable), IN MANHATTAN?!) I was beyond excited, it felt like kismet when the address was e-mailed to me and it was DIRECTLY next door to the friends apartment I'm currently staying at. DIRECTLY NEXT DOOR. I thought,I've got this. NAILED IT. Champagne anyone?
The apartment is in Chelsea, four roomies- two attorneys, one doctor, one model- and me? hopefully? The layout, was amazing. Susan Surandon is a neighbor, the closet was spacious, balcony was in the room, PERFECT LOCATION, flat screen TV; which just sounds nice I don't actually have time to watch the telly, ETC. I was so excited after I saw the apartment I felt like doing a toe touch and breaking into cheer. "The Model" (who internally made me feel like a gigantic asshole for mentally measuring her thighs, so I could go home and see how much I should lose from my own)was friendly, sweet, we had ping-pong conversation, talked about yoga, poetry, art, and other things that models shouldn't know anything about-since models shouldn't be be given the gift of intelligence too, it's threatening, unfair. I wanted to give her a best friend necklace right away, she fooled me into thinking we were instant best friends....though she was a fucking model, we had A LOT in common, writing, drinking wine- pretty homes with men to protect us from potential intruders or earthquakes?
I went home, ready to pop "the bubbly" and celebrate my new home. I'm likable, 1 out of 5, I've gotta be number 1? Come on, I figure from Craigslist the rest must be crazies, old- smell funny? So, I waited patiently while watching Dateline NBC for my "acceptance letter" e-mail. Smelling lovely might I add.
When this arrived, I felt dumped:
"Hey Chelsea Talks Smack,
I think (you think?!) I really enjoyed meeting you and think we would get along great as well, and it was a tough call, but there was one other girl who I bonded with a little more and liked. I'm sorry it didn't work out, I will keep you posted if things change or if the boys do not approve. Again I'm sorry and really did like you as a potential roommate and you seem like a really cool girl. take care and good luck in your search!!
All the best,
MODEL WHO IS HAS A BETTER LIFE THAN YOU. HA. HA.
I was shocked. WHAT?! NO. NO. NO. I threw a couple clenched fist at the sky (since, you know, the fucking SKY is "watching me" and understands my anguish)
AND WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING THE PAST THREE HOURS?? Well, other than contemplating which size cardboard BOX my ass will fit in after finishing my bowl of popcorn, or if I could possibly sleep in my suitcase in the holding room of a cozy Marriott, I've been thinking...."WHY DIDN'T SHE LIKE ME?!"
Like a fucking insecure child. A homeless, insecure child.
Does that ever go away? Why would I be #2, why couldn't I be #1? What did that other girl have that I didn't? Why does she get the cute apartment with a fireplace in her bedroom, BITCH. Which spins me into a frenzy of, why did my ex pick that OTHER bitch over me, am I the "favorite intern", does my boss like me, is God pissed at me for my selfish decisions in a past life? Was I a harlot, a home wrecker, a man-stealer, a murder? What in the FUCK.
back to the word FUCK, because frankly, it sums up my situation...
so, IF ANYONE, all of you Internet strangers who now know more about my life than most of the people who know me, actually I take that back, I sort of slit my chest open and serve my heart on a a platter to all that I meet, maybe I should use a bit more discretion in the future, no?
IF, you know anyone subleasing a fantastic apartment that will allow my to EAT, do my laundry and occasionally take a cab when I'm too drunk to walk home, please let me know.
I'm going to try to stop being so insecure and wondering why I couldn't say I have at least ONE FRIEND who is a supermodel..... maybe so I don't feel guilt every time I order pizza at home and she's shivering and hungry curled in the corner putting on fake eyelash's and drinking coffee? Cause that, is just sad.