Really-Cute-Internet-Couple

Oh you. You two. You're really cute and you're all over my internet. Make it stop.

Seriously, it's too much. We get it, the web gets it, God and my parents and everyone else gets it. You guys really like each other, probably even love each other, and it makes me feel funny. Funny like I'm the 2012 version of Mary Tyler Moore, and while she was cool and independent and lived in an urban metropolis, sometimes I just really want to be a normal co-dependent.

It's not that I'm jealous of you. It's not even that I envy you. In fact, I quite like my life; I'm reveling in my freedom and self-discovery and all that other stuff that's talked about in therapy. It's just that, why didn't I ever get that way with a boyfriend? I really doubt that anyone ever coo-ed or aw-ed at our Facebook pictures from fancy parties or Twitter mentions of one another as we're at a picnic on the lake. Maybe if I hadn't been so embarrassed to profess my love on the internet. Or to the person in question. Maybe that was our problem: we were never public enough because I never wanted it to be.

I know it's probably not healthy to idolize someone or something or some digital representation of that "one" or "thing." But I can't help it. You seem to really "get" one another, and to genuinely enjoy each other's company, and you guys are probably never worried about saying the wrong thing or forgetting to shave your legs because you know that the person will love you anyways/besides/because of your faults. I know there's more to relationships than that, but I dunno, I think that's a pretty integral part.

Do you guys really go to the coffee shop together to read? Do you really have a dog that you take on walks along big shady boulevards? He actually invited you on a cross-county trip to visit his friends? And, like, is the lighting really always that good wherever you guys are? It's cool that you guys like the same music. Did he dress that well before you guys started dating? Wow. And it's nice that he likes you even when you wear that one sweater that makes you look like you have jaundice or have an underwear line in your dress. I'm just saying.

I wish you two the best, really, but can you please stay out of my news feed, my Instagram, my Twitter, and my Gchat status bar for that matter? You know, I'm just going along, minding my own business, when up pop you two! Like really, can't you put that stuff behind closed doors? I don't want to de-friend or un-follow you, but discovering the joys of your relationship when I'm 23 and it's 5:15pm and rushing home to feed my cat is not exactly encouraging stuff.

I'd love to see you guys in person. Maybe we could go to your coffee house, take the dog for a walk, you know, be friends in the real world? Maybe then I wouldn't feel so funny seeing pictures of you guys, because I'd finally understand how much fun you're having.

Clearing the Air

I pride myself on a lot of things that probably don't deserve any pride. Eat a bag of barbeque kettle chips for dinner? Uh yea, I can do that, no prob. Wake up at 6 am after going to bed 4 hours earlier following a night filled with too many libations? Easy. Wear the same pair of jeans 5 days in a row and assume no one has noticed? Got it.

And then there is, what Amanda and I recently termed, the art of "clearning." We're both really freaking good at it.

• I can clear a table in 2 minutes flat. Top-shelf service for any of my guests.
• I can clear my computer screen at work so as to hide (nonchalantly of course) the Pinteresting and Facebook stalking (ok, usually it's just a lot of me looking at pictures of myself) that I'm probably partaking in.
  
• I can clear a room pretty easily. My top ammo of choice is a bad joke, or better, a bad joke that I can't tell because I'm laughing so hard at it in my head.
• I find great pleasure in clearing the dance floor. All this requires is starting to sing to the song, clearly botching the words, and doing my really cool dip thing that I do (and by the way, to all my "friends" out there, I'm still waiting for you guys to pick up this move.)
• I can clear a party pretty well too. In high school, it was with methods that, today, I find a bit too obvious (barfing, passing out, otherwise shaming my family). Now, I'm a bit more covert, and it's a lot more fun (taking the last beer, raiding the host's refrigerator inciting fear in everyone that they will get caught, dancing, completely losing track of time to the point that no, I haven't cleared a party, it's just that everyone was smart enough to go home).

Again, I realize that these aren't exactly "skills," in fact, they probably aren't even "skillz." But, my 24th birthday is about 6 weeks away and I'm quickly realizing that I may have to hone these skills (and maybe just scrap them all together) if I want to make any sort of headway personal development over  the next 365 days of my life.

To Do List

Things to do on a Saturday in Chicago in late August when it's 95 degrees outside and you're waiting for your roommate to come home...

1. Watch a Instawtch on work computer and eat in bed while you watch it because you're an adult, and you can eat in your bed if you want. Just not when you're a boy and I'm sleeping over.

2. Go to the Chicago Food Truck Fest. Or don't, because it's really hot outside.

3. Decide what you're going to order at tomorrow's brunch at Fred's at Barney's Chicago. Also, decide what you're going to wear. And buy.

4. Make greeting cards by decorating cardstock with nail polish. It's a really great way to use up extra / old nail polish.

5. Take a bath and listen to Band of Horses and talk to your cat. Stay in your towel for at least an hour and a half after the bath ends. 

I did all 5. And watched Austin Powers 1, twice.

Dear Jo(h)n

Speaking of high school boyfriends...

I don't think about my high school boyfriend a lot. Frankly, there isn't much to think about. We were 16, I had a car and a rockin' bod (he did too for that matter). We had a small disposable income and a summer with which to do anything we wanted. We had basements and siblings who were friends. And parents who wanted to see us happy. There wasn't much to us, and that's what was so great about it. We loved, we lost, we moved on. It was simple, easy, non-cerebral (thank you roommate for reminding me of that awesome word). But, it taught me a lot; he taught me a lot, mostly about myself, things that I would have never discovered, or worse, discovered when I was older and had regular access to beer (see: binge drinking on a work night). 

16 was a very scary place for me. I was smart and had ambitions. I also had insecurities the size of that really big bridge in Canada (see: Confederation Bridge). I finally got my braces off and had never really kissed a boy. I had straight A's without having to try very hard. I was 5'6" and weighed about 112 pounds (and never missed an opportunity to exercise). No one had ever really expressed romantic interest in me. I felt like an ugly duckling, convinced boys would never like me. This in turn made me Miss Sass, Miss Snide Comment, Miss "Leave me the fuck alone because I'm probably better than you." Oops.

High school boyfriend, you weren't earth-shattering, and neither was I. In fact, we both kind of sucked and it probably wasn't the healthiest of relationships. But, I loved you. And I think you loved me too. We had fun, a lot of it. And you showed me how cool it is to connect with someone, how great it is to get stupid about someone, and how awesome it is to kiss someone sober. It was heartbreaking when we broke up. Somehow, that meant that I wasn't loveable, likeable, or attractive. Obviously, this has since been proved false, but learning the lesson of vulnerability is always a hard one.

High school boyfriend, if you're reading this, I hope you're well. I hope you know that I think of you with incredible fondness. I hope you know that I respect you and what you meant to me when I was 16 and just learning how to use a debit card with a pin. Also, thank you for breaking up with me. If you hadn't, I certainly wouldn't be the person I am today, and the thought of that is terrifying. I might not be as calm, accepting, apprehensive, understanding, or excited about my future if you and I hadn't been brought together and then taken apart. I couldn'tve done it without you. 

So, uh, are you seeing anyone special?

A Letter to My High School Boyfriend

Ah, hey there. It's been a while, huh? 

How's, ah..your...

In essence of time and my mounting boredom, let's skip over all that,"How are your parents?" "Heard your family dog died. He was a good dog," "How's your job?" "Seeing anyone special?" "Good for you!" business and fucking get right to it. 

I don't think about us, or you for that matter, very often. When I do, I always seem to go back to the same memories, or pieces of memories, moments, each time. 

I think about that homecoming dance when we first started dating and you were too nervous to put your arm around me because our parents were there taking our pictures. And if you touched me, maybe they'd know we kissed. I was too insecure to tell you I'd be ok with the squeeze. 

How could I forget the time we got your dad's car stuck in the mud and we had to push it out? The whole debacle nearly ruined my watermelon colored Juicy Couture pants. You remember the pants? If our relationship meant anything to you, you remember my Juicy's.

Mostly I think of the many decisions that I made because of you. Not the favorite movie, or adopting new hobbies to match yours, kind of decisions; which I also made and promptly adjusted after determining OAR was not cool----but the big decisions that ultimately made me the person who relics today. 

I like who I am. Heck, some days I even love myself. I am grateful for our relationship.


So, how are your parents?

The Perks of Being a Single Wallflower

Written by the residents of Hotel Francisco

1. You can literally drink, eat, and Nordstrom's Semi-Annual Sale a paycheck away without any immediate pangs of regret.

2. Eat an entire pizza, by yourself. Go ahead, we dare you. No judgement and no sharing.

3. Objectifying men is a lot less guilt-inducing.

4. You can finally catch-up on your 90s tv shows on Netflix Instawatch. See: Dawson's Creek and My So Called Life.

5. There is finally time to devote to hobbies such as nail art and organizing your socks.

6. Take that trip you've been wanting to. To Europe or the Aurora outlet mall.

7. Do the opposite of everything you did with the ex (exercise, watch romantic movies, go to bars that aren't on the Blue Line).

8. Home renovation. We took up the carpet and painted three rooms in our turn-of-the-century greystone. Live out your HGTV fantasies.

9. You have been given the gift of time; enjoy a two-hour get-ready-for-bed routine. Indulge in lotions, flossing, and taking baths while listening to Cat Power.

10. So many free nights to find someone better than the last. It's about moving forward.

Types

So, do you like have a type? Am I it? I think I want to be, but I'm not sure. Regardless, we need to make sure that you are my type...

Do you like internet videos? Preferably involving cats or babies (I'm so not into the "Shit Girls Say" thing). Have you ever watched an episode of Friends? I'm not sure you'll ever really get me until you watch "The One Where No One's Ready." If girls bring up Sex and The City, do you immediately roll your eyes? If you do, this can't go anywhere. SATC has gotten me through a lot. Like, a lot a lot.

You better like sandwiches. And potato chips. Those are probably my two top food groups. Following that, french fries, beer (cheap or fancy), imported salames, Nutella, spicy tuna rolls, and cottage cheese. And you better not be picky. Ugh, picky eaters are the worst. Don't come near me if you're picky. 

You don't have to like "be into fashion," but you better have respect. For the clothes. And for yourself. And for looking (and dressing) like you're an adult with a real job (and yes, you should probably have a real job too).

And on that same note, you need to be clean, tidy, and respectful of your things. And there better be toilet paper in your bathroom when I come over. And clean glasses. That are actually put away in the cupboard. And please, vacuum at least once a year. At least. 

You'll have to be able to interact with my cat and not be all weird. I promise, he's a sweety and cats are cool. Especially mine. And my friends too for that matter. They're not perfect, and neither are you. They're important to me, so don't be all quiet and use a fake laugh around them.

You need to have watched Austin Powers 1 and Liar Liar. Those movies really speak to my psyche. And you better read. Guys who read are hot. 

But I guess above all this stuff, you have to be able to put up with my sass. And my hyper-sensitivity. And all my judgmental crap. And my erratic needs. And my odd sense of humor. If you can do all this, and still tell me I'm pretty, often, then you are definitely my type.

Um, TGIF, am I right?

Dear Self

Dear 50-year-old Alexis,

You may have noticed that I've been writing more. I'm 23 right now, and I feel like I've lived at least 3 full-lifetimes already. I think that's a lucky thing, but it can be exhausting at times, and it causes me to think about the past, and the future. A lot.

I wonder about you often. I guess firstly, I think about if you will even exist. Of course, I hope to live until at least 85, but I don't want to assume anything. Once I've settled on the fact that you must be alive (you simply must), I start thinking about a lot of other little things...

Is your hair grey? Are you dyeing it? I have about 7 grey hairs right now and I sort of obsess about them. They both scare and fascinate me. Remember when hairdressers would ask if our hair color was natural?! That was so cool.

Are you fat? I know that that makes me sound vain, but I hope you're healthy. I hope you love your body like I love my body now. I hope you are active, and enjoy dressing your limbs in fun and exciting clothes. I hope that your health has continued to be good to you as it is to me right now. I hope you still go swimming and maybe to the occasional yoga class. And lots of walks and strolls and jaunts.

Do you have a family? A husband? God, I wonder what he's like. Is he cute? Funny? I hope both of those things, but not cuter or funnier than you of course. I think that we should always keep the upper-hand. And your kids? I bet they're adorable. I bet they're well-liked at school, but not like pretentious popular people or anything. I bet they're smart and introspective like we were in high school. Do they spend their afternoons on math homework and art projects in their rooms while blasting Nick Drake? You better make them set the table and make the dinner salad just like we had to. And I hope they're active too, but not like sports-active. I bet they have activities that they like to do both alone and in groups--art and poetry and biking and swimming and working.

Are you working? In HR? Isn't so silly that we work in HR? God, when I was in college, I'm convinced I had no idea what HR even was. Are you still cooking? I bet you are, and I bet you even started baking a little bit too. Are you still doing calligraphy? And are you collecting antiques? Did you inherit all of Mom's and Grandma's beautiful things? And some of Diane's art? And Dad's photographs and old cameras? All those things are so cool and I envision my urban loft with white walls decorated with all of them and some of our own creations as well.

Are you still as snarky as you are now? Shy? Abrasive? Judgmental? Loyal? Do you still like making lists? Still a clean freak? Do you still refuse to get into an unmade bed like you do now? Are you traveling? Exploring your body and mind and the world and all the tastes at the same time? 

Are you rich? Poor? Did you pay off your student loans? Do you own a house? You know, I want to buy property by age 35. I hope I can make it. Do you think about the future or the past? Do you meet with your friends often to go out and try new restaurants, see exhibits, go for walks and get fro-yo? Do you drink too much--did you ever grow out of that dirty martini and straight whiskey phase? Part of me hopes you didn't. Are you seeing a therapist?

Do you ever run into old boyfriends or friends from high school or college or past jobs? That must be kinda weird, huh?

Are you still a cat person? What city do you live in? Do you see your parents often? Are your parents even alive? Where are they buried? Do you miss them? Do you feel like an orphan?

Are you happy? 

I realize that there are a lot of questions above. You don't have to answer them all now. But if you could soon, I would be much obliged. 

Sincerely,

23-year-old Alexis

Makes Me Happy

23 Things (for 23 years) that make me happy

1. 6 am texts from my dad saying that he loves me and hopes I have a good day.
2. Having an event to go to for which you MUST buy a new dress.
3. When a person is running towards the bus stop and the bus starts to leave, but then the driver is aware of his/her surroundings and sees the person running so they stop to let them get on.
4. Perfectly painted nails that I did myself--it means I'm an artist and that I've saved some money.
5. A really cute outfit that makes my legs look long and skinny.
6. Leftovers for lunch.
7. Clean sheets and a made bed. 
8. A new show to watch on Netfilx InstaWatch on my iPad. In said clean bed. 
9. Eating a great dinner with friends or a boyfriend or your parents at a restaurant you've been wanting to try for a long time.
10. Having 0 unread emails in my work inbox.
11. Having 1 unread email in my personal inbox from a friend or a crush.
12. Warm fall days, cool summer days.
13. Writing an essay or blog post or email or anything really and having someone compliment my writing.
14. Kissing a new boyfriend sober for the first time.
15. When my kitty snuggles on my shoulders when I'm laying in bed and rests his head on the pillow next to mine.
16. Baby pictures where my sister and I look both terrifying and adorable at the same time. Why did our  mother think wearing cowboy boots and a swimsuit at the same time was a good idea?
17. Getting dating advice from my grandmother. She married her high school sweetheart, had 4 kids and 25 years of marriage. But, she ultimately decided she needed more. So, she became her own person in her 40s. She always encourages me to do similar, just in the reverse order.
18. Mexican Coke (a Cola). 'nuff said.
19. Soup and sandwiches.
20. Supporting myself financially, emotionally, and sartorially.
21. Apple and Google.
22. Chicago.
23. Spontaneous trips. To the grocery store or halfway around the world. Things that aren't planned are the best.

Portugal

Confessions

23 Confessions (for 23 Years) of Things That I'm Not Sorry About But Probably Should Be

In honor of 23 years of living (and usually surviving), I have a few things about which I want to come clean, to both myself and the world.

1. I'm sorry that I judge you if you use bad grammar or have bad spelling. It makes me think that you were asleep all of 4th grade.

2. I think smoking cigarettes is dirty if you're over the age of 25. I've got two years left to look cool and Euro.

3. I can't help picking at hangnails. Especially when I'm out drinking.

4. I absolutely believe in true love, soul mates, and love at first sight. If you don't, I feel sorry for you.

5. I think the Pacific Ocean is better than the Atlantic.

6. Sometimes, I send Gchats / emails / Facebook messages to boys that I know I really shouldn't be sending, and I'm surprised when they don't respond...

7. Most times, I'd rather look at pictures of myself on my cell phone than look at your online photo album. Have you ever heard of taking a candid?

8. I think waxing is stupid--totally prepubescent.

9. I think your Facebook posts about your dinner with your boyfriend or all the laundry you have to do are so inane, they make me want to hit my head against the wall.

10. If I counted, I probably check out girls more during a day than boys.

11. For about 14 hours last April, I considered selling my eggs to get money for my student loans.

12. I like sardines.

13. I want to have marriage pacts (like, vowing to get married to someone if at a certain age, you are both single) with a few people, you know, just in case. I really want to ask my ex-boyfriend from college, but I'm too afraid of his rejection all over again.

14. I'm a lush. Too much booze, sun, fashion, and food.

15. I'm a jealous person. I'm not interested in your success. 

16. I love Friends. I'm like 40% Chandler, 40% Monica, and 10% Phoebe. And like 10% Smelly Cat.

17. If you're not using Gmail, don't talk to me. Literally, how can we flirt if you're not on Gchat?

18. I'll admit I'm wrong if it means I get to have you back.

19. I like my big nose.

20. I love relentlessly and am surprised when it isn't reciprocated.

21. I think Chicago is cooler than San Francisco and LA but not as cool as New York.

22. I still pick my nose. Often in public.

23. More often than not, I'm in the past or the future. The present is a scary place, and when you won't join me in it, I get anxious.