Two sources of evil: fuckboys and alcohol.

“Happy New Year, Beth :)” the text(s) read.

Does that happen to anyone else? As soon as Christmas or NYE hits, your inbox suddenly becomes flooded with messages from men you haven’t spoken to in months? It’s like, ah, I know I fucked up, but it’s the holidays! Happy Holidays! Let’s forget about everything I’ve ever done to you! Wishing you a very merry season!

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When will I feel good enough?

There are parts of my body that I don’t mind. My legs aren’t so bad, neither is my face or hair. I wish my fingernails grew different so my index nail wouldn’t look so stubby. I have cute hands, even though they are the size of your average toddler. Guys seem to like my butt (tysm squats), and I don’t mind having a chest on the smaller side. Read More

Choose love.

I was 21 years old when I had my first pregnancy scare. Several days late, wondering why my birth control didn’t work the way it was supposed to, anxiously opening the doors to CVS to purchase a test I never knew I’d have to take at such a young age. Weighing the options available if my world was about to be turned upside down but finding peace in the fact that I did have options. Options about my body. Choices about my future. Read More

Powerful Women Project: Amanda Nelson

The response I received on this post prompted this project: the Powerful Women Project. At times I feel unsure of the choices I make, the life I’m choosing to live at this point, the guys I choose to spend my time with, etc. I’m supposed to have a corporate job with benefits, a steady relationship, an overall “handle” on adulting (at least that’s how society makes me feel). Read More

Walking to work.

I was wearing a loose black dress from Urban. I paired it with black combat boots and gold bangles. I had been a slob all day, so I figured I’d throw something cute on to run some errands before work.

I stepped on the elevator, a man stood next to me and stared at my naked legs and then looked at me and winked. 5, 4, 3, 2, L. I stepped out and could still feel his eyes staring behind me.

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To you, I’m just a “sort of”

He usually texts at around 2am. Sometimes I’ll receive a sober phone call in the afternoon to “say hi,” and other times it’s a 4am, “Hey, what’s up?” text. Never consistent, never expected, never sought after.

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My Tuesdays are different than your Tuesdays

I roll out of bed at around 4:30am even after a 1:00am clock out at work a short 3.5 hours prior. My phone lies on my nightstand lit up with Nordstrom Rack emails, Tinder messages, and an option to hit “Sleep.”

Next step is usually a trip to the bathroom to washthe make up residue from my eyes I failed to get off properly the night before. I head to the kitchen next, snap the lid on the Keurig for coffee and crack two eggs for my omelette. Read More

Just a type 1 diabetic tryna be paleo & sh*t

*sigh* Another paleo blog. *sigh heavier while simultaneously rolling eyes*

What is paleo? (click that)

The intent of this blog is not to explain what paleo means or what the diet entails (ok fine, in one sentence: I can’t have any of the main food groups: melted cheese, garlic bread, or Half Baked ice cream). This does not mean I am going to go hunt a chicken for dinner or grind my own coconut flour using all of the local palm tree coconuts in the DC metro area. It’s basically just being, like, healthy or whatever.

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I went on a date with a 30-something and the world didn’t explode.

The last time I went on a date with an age gap, I was a sophomore in college. Blissfully unaware of decent vodkas, 401ks, and the tackiness of my fake Long Champ. He was 27, I was 20. At the time this age gap seemed astronomical. Like, 7 years?! Omg he was legally able to drink when I just got my period for the first time!!!! (This was my dead ass thought process). The date was OK, but my anxiety about the age difference trumped any attraction I felt towards him.

Fast forward 3.5 years later. I’ve upgraded to Tito’s, still don’t totally understand how a 401k works, and finally invested in a nice-ass Rebecca Minkoff tote. Up until last week, my Tinder age preferences were set between 23-28. Anyone over 28 was “too old.”

I bet they have a sweet 401k plan. I can’t commit to someone like that yet. 

“You need to start dating older men,” he told me. Looking back at this conversation with my bar guest, this was probably an attempt to flirt, but we were so deep into this conversation about immature men that I disregarded the fact that he might have been referring to himself.

So I did it. I made the move. The big kahuna move from left to right on my Tinder age preference scale. 24-31.

31. Omg. 31?!?!!?! My palms started to sweat.

I then quickly shut the app as I realized I was sweating over Tinder. Get it together. 

The next day I was casually swiping. You know, just your every day, is she swiping or Pokemon Go-ing? millennial past time.

It’s a match!

My first definitely-has-a-401k-plan- match (I’m not sure why I keep associating adulthood so in depth with 401ks but it just sounds right). We chatted and I knew it was a Tinder-match-made-in-heaven when he agreed with my argument about vanilla being the best flavor of ice cream.

I quote, “When God made ice cream, he made vanilla.”

Aight, cool, I feel you 401k-er.

We had a very brief conversation before he asked me out. Omg aggressive, I thought. Then I was like, oh wait, maybe this is how dating apps should be-not exhausting conversations before you meet IRL. 

I agreed. He initially suggested drinks, then added dinner onto the deal. YES!!!!

Won’t give you the play by play of the evening (although I know y’all are DYING to hear it), but let’s just say the last leg of the date consisted of getting hammered playing Guess Who? at a board game bar. It was like the dream first date I never knew I wanted.

We talked about politics, jobs, and other “adult like” things. But the age gap didn’t matter. We were just two single people who enjoyed each other’s company.

I don’t know why 30-somethings frighten me. Maybe it’s because I don’t have a career set in place, or maybe it’s because I don’t match my socks (probs will never do that tbh). Not totally sure where the anxiety about dating them stemmed from.

Maybe the next 30-something I go out with will make me feel extremely 23. Not sure, but I’m down to find out.
Dating is weird and exhausting on so many levels, but you’re only making the process worse if you stick with what you know.

Like, I know the twenty-somethings I’ve “dated” here are kind of the worst. So, sticking to what I “know” hasn’t been working out. Perhaps it’s time to start adopting ~dat 401k way of life.~

I actually don’t know if he has a 401k plan. I never asked. Is that an appropriate first date question? But, I do promise I’ll stop overkilling metaphors in my blog posts.

Maybe.