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Something happens for me in December. It’s like the weight of the holidays around us, it extends our patience for people and their mistakes. I honk less, and smile more, and feel like it’s okay to ask for a hug. Because I know everyone else must be feeling the same way and its safe to let my guard down. They usually hug me back. Sometimes they push me away. But I feel like we play it cool a little less, and show our cards a little easier.

I’ve always had compulsive honesty, regardless of the repercussions. But the older I get, the more I see people telling me to lie and cover things up. And it finds its way into my head. No girlfriend encourages you to tell someone you love them, when they know they might not love you back. But the truth sits in me like a disease and I don’t know how to live with it by myself. I have to let it out! I have to make you live with it too. I go against what my friends tell me because they only know how to protect me from the world. They are on the side of keeping my insides safe, and I’m on the side of making the truth less scary.

When I was in ninth grade I fell in love with a senior named Christian. The moment I met him I was a mess. Life kind of had a way of forcing me to be honest when it gave me involuntary blushing anytime I’m nervous or embarrassed. I made it no secret that I loved him. I told anyone who would listen and it eventually got back to him. He was mildly interested and mostly shy about it. We would be at the same party and someone would make a joke, “I’m sure Erin would help you to your car, Christian”. Then everyone would laugh and I wouldn’t deny a thing. I just didn’t know how to fake it, and I had this feeling that he wasn’t going to love me back, so why not just be honest.

One time he took me home from a party and he asked to come inside. I snuck him around the back of my house and we made out in my doorway. He tried to take it over to the bed, but I stopped him. I told him that he needed to be careful with me. He got the message and apparently not ready or willing to be careful, he left.

We saw each other at school and usually just avoided any real exchanges. I tried to put myself in his path whenever possible. I was always aware of where he was. One night when we were at the same party, he approached me and said he didn’t want to be there anymore and wanted to know if he could come over to my house and watch a movie. I almost choked on my Zima. I didn’t know how to say yes or get in his car fast enough. I needed to call my mom and tell her I would be having a friend over. My mom was the most relaxed of all my friend’s moms. I was a good kid, I didn’t lie or get into trouble, so there were few things I wasn’t allowed to do. I always asked permission just to let her know I respected her as the parent, but I didn’t really even need to be asking. She did however know about my obsession with Christian and I didn’t want her to act shocked when she saw him and make it clear I had talked about him.

She answered the phone calmly and I asked her if I could have a friend over to watch a movie. Quickly she says, “Not tonight Erin. I’m sorry.” I was so shocked I thought I hadn’t heard her right. “What do you mean? It’s a Saturday night. I don’t understand.” She breathed out frustrated, “Erin I’m sorry, I really don’t want anyone here right now. The answer is no. No one can come here tonight.” “But, it’s Christian.” “I’m sure there will be another time he can come over.” I felt like my world had just fallen apart. I had never heard my mom so certain about something and she didn’t even have a reason. I told Christian he wasn’t allowed to come over. He seemed disappointed and then he left by himself. I decided I would never talk to my mom again after I let her know how epically she had ruined my life.

Christian never tried to come over again, he never tried to take me on a date, he never tried to kiss me, he never paid me any more attention than anyone else. He was never unkind, he was just indifferent.

On the night of the last day of school, there was an end of the year party. Christian would be there and then leaving the next day to the city where he would be going to college. I knew it would be the last time I saw him. He showed up as I had hoped. He gave everyone sincere goodbye’s. As he was making his way out the door I stopped him. I handed him a letter. He looked at it thoughtfully, smiled at me, put it in his pocket, and left. I had read the letter out loud to my best friend who told me I should never under ANY circumstances give him this letter. Stretched out over three long hand written pages, it confessed my sincere love for him. I didn’t ask for him to call me, or come see me, or love me back, just to believe that what I felt for him was real. And I knew it wouldn’t change how he felt for me. But I genuinely thought he deserved to know that someone out there thought he was the most spectacular person alive and know the impact he made on me. I loved him so much that I didn’t even care that he didn’t love me back. I was just so excited to feel like that for someone and I knew one day I would have the chance to share it with someone properly. I was never embarrassed of how I felt about him. I didn’t care if people made fun of me for it. I found something new, and would never be the same. It wasn’t about the outcome.

Still haven’t been able to find Christian on Facebook. It’s possible he’s blocked me.

I have a shitty memory. Long term, short term, currently happening, happened thirty seconds ago, casual detail, so important that if I remembered it I could win money… just pathetic memory all around. I’ve spent a decent amount of time through some formative years being around one of my best friend’s Nikki (shout out to @Donatiennela) who has the memory of a professional Jeopardy winner. But she doesn’t remember historical facts or have the ability to recite text from an obscure book that people consider super intellectual. Her brain has no room for such nonsense when its occupied with more important things like remembering with perfect clarity her sixth grade locker combination and exactly what outfit I was wearing when I had my first post beer party, awkward/inappropriate sexual encounter (a bikini top and denim skirt obvs).

Oddly enough I can remember extremely embarrassing and non-important information like what Mario Lopez named his baby (Gia) or which night Real Housewives Of Beverly Hills is on (Mondays 9pm). So, obviously my brain has the capacity to remember things, but it feels so superior to remembering people’s names, and facts that go over well at a dinner party where the seats are filled with people who have gone to college. One of my all time favorite things to do is impress people, so I make a conscious effort to try to memorize a bizarre fact about something. Knowing something really random can save you when ten minutes later you aren’t up to date on the current Republican candidates being considered to run for office. I want so badly to talk shit about these people who I already know I’m not going to like, but I can’t unless I’m legit informed.

A few things to be aware of when wanting to reference an obscure fact at a dinner party:

– Its possible that someone like you, if you’re anything like me, doesn’t really know a true obscure fact. So then it’s very possible that you think a random fact you stored in that little brain is actually a well known fact. For instance, if you decided to casually mention that there are five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes in a year, everyone will be like, “yeah, I saw Rent too”.

– When referencing a news story that you want everyone to know you’re aware of, you need to consider the source. If the topic of developmental issues in a fetus comes up and you spit out your wine to talk about a video you watched that shows the growth of a fetus sped up under different conditions that is really fascinating, you better be prepared to admit that you might have possibly seen it on PerezHilton before someone calls you out on it.

My terrible memory has not served me well in relationships of the romantic nature. Of course, remembering anniversaries and other occasions where I might receive a gift were easy. I’d be like, “Oh yeah, you’ll be out of town on November 16th?! That’s interesting since it’s our FUCKING seven month anniversary.” But then I’d be like, “Who’s Carol and why do you keep talking about her?” And he’d say, “She’s my mother, Erin. We’ve been together seven months. Carol is my mother.” And obviously that’s when I would attempt to save face by claiming some type of mental disorder that makes me forget really really important things.

Other times this handicap never serves me well is in arguments. Facts and details are VERY important in an argument. One little slip up on the time something happened or the exact wording a promise was made with, and you’re done. You’ve lost the argument. Your points are no longer credible. Now, in my relationships way before I was evolved like I am now, I loved to rehash issues I had forgotten to bring up at the time that they bothered me. While I spewed out details about how he had disrespected me by saying he would call when his meeting was finished and had failed to do so, that moment would come when I would see a look in his eyes. This is when he realized that no matter what he had said before, he was now gonna go at me from the angle that I notoriously have a bad memory and am probably confused about what I thought I heard. Nothing pissed me off more than this angle. It was too hard for me to win at this. It forced me to combat this tactic by throwing a huge fit and storming out of the room. If we were not in the same room, then the other choice would be hanging up the phone on them. See; Maturity.

I want to point out that I have done zero drugs to explain my wiped memory. Okay, a little pot in high school. Certainly not enough to have me occasionally forget my own email address.

I was standing in line at my local Rite-Aid pharmacy the other day buying some none-of-your-business, and I became very concerned about life in general. I’m not sure why my local pharmacy is so ghetto, but it’s a reminder that I’m definitely not living the dream yet. There was a man who tried cutting to the front of the line, his confusion most likely from the gaping hole in his face and dried blood on his cheek. Two people in front of me was a woman with a good five pounds of fake hair clipped to her limp little ponytail of mismatched blonde. Pushing past me to get to the daily labeled pill boxes was a full blown registered sex offender. I just knew, that’s how I know. There was an old lady impatiently standing a few feet behind me and I could smell her before I actually turned around to see who farted. The whole experience was very traumatizing for an innocent little blogger like myself.

Just as I was getting ready to ditch the line, give up, and go home before I got AIDS standing there, this little kid popped his head out above the aisle next to us. Like up top over the shelf and peaked over at us. He was a dirty little kid who looked like he smelled bad and of course he was creeping up on his smelly grandmother who was in line behind me.They started speaking Russian to each other. Typical. Just kidding, I don’t even really know anything about Russians. Except that they clearly smell bad. And drink vodka in big freezer rooms. And wear tall hats.

Anyway, I was like, whoa I hate this kid. He was standing on the shelf and knocking over Advil bottles left and right. I really didn’t like his energy. Now, I’m not one to jump to conclusions, especially in writing where I can never take it back, but I’m pretty sure this kid was evil. Like, if I was bleeding out in this line from a gunshot wound, I feel like he would go grab some lemon juice from aisle 7 and pour it on me and then laugh. I’m really good at reading people’s vibes.

The point is that I started worrying about what my kid/kids/adopted children/nieces I ask to call me mommy, are going to be like. What if my kid is awful?

What if my kid is the smelly kid? Like no matter how much I make him take a bath, he still smells?

What if my kid is really pretentious and demands to be the line leader every time his class travels in a group to the auditorium?

What if my kid thinks its funny to burb the alphabet?

What if my kid is named Nigel? Well, I would never let that happen.

What if my kid puts a sign on his door that says, “GO AWAY!” and tells me how much he hates me every day?

What if my kid’s friends don’t think I’m a hot mom? (whoa, that’s the worst one I’ve thought of so far)

What if my kid is a republican?

There is just a lot to consider. My parents had to deal with me embarrassing them when I was a kid. I thought it was super cool to color coordinate the rubber bands on my braces with the current holiday. Little did I know it just appeared that I constantly had food stuck in my teeth. They had to deal with me saying “TP for my bunghole” in the voice of Beavis and Butthead every ten minutes at the dinner table. They had to tolerate me insisting on writing my elementary school a letter expressing my severe opinion on how History class should be terminated due to the fact that “these things happened in the past and don’t matter anymore”

My poor unborn child.

Sometimes bitches just take up all the good things that could potentially happen to the rest of us. Sure, life isn’t fair blah blah, but that doesn’t mean I have to support your perfect life. Publicly I will pretend to have your back and wish you all the best, but privately I will design a digital voodoo doll with your face on it.

So, with that being said these are some people I’m NOT happy for:

Selena Gomez
Justin Bieber loves you. He rented out the staples center for you. Really? Like, that’s a real thing. Okay. Wish you the best. Not.

Eva Mendes
Back off my man, chick. Ryan Gosling was in the same restaurant as me once and while he didn’t seem to notice me, I know that we will look back and tell our children that was the first time we saw each other.

Kate Middleton
Do you know how many girls in LA have license plates that say, “Daddy Bought it, Princess Got It”? You took their dream from them.

Leanne Rimes
I’m not even being sarcastic. I just genuinely find you annoying.

Petra Ecclestone
Send me your money and I’ll pay you back. Thanks, you’re the best.

So, someone e-mailed me about how to make their online dating profile not seem lame. Ok fine, it was a fan. A full blown FAN of mine who wrote me! Can you believe it? I know, I was pretty excited too. If you want me to send you the compliments she gave me, just let me know. Anyway, when I read it I realized that must be a very daunting thing to do. It’s like, you want to meet someone, and you’re torn between knowing that genuine couples have met online, but people have also shown up at a restaurant to find Ben the “athletic college student studying to be a paramedic” is really a sixty year old sex offender who isn’t allowed near elementary schools. I guess I can’t help you weed out the creeps, but I can certainly give you input on how to make your profile look.

If I’m being honest with you, I’ve never been on any dating site before. But for this post, I have gone onto Match.Com and am creating a profile so that I can see what type of questions they ask. I’m going to fill it out exactly as I would if I were wanting to put myself on here. Which I never would cause its fucking embarrassing. Just kidding. I support you.

I chose the username Regina Filangi because that was always Phoebe’s fake name on Friends.

Okay, first important question that came up is if you want to display your astrological sign or not. Obviously I’m going with NOT. Anyone with their sign next to their name is annoying, and especially a GUY with that! No. No. No.

Okay next up is selecting your body type. This list is pretty entertaining. I’m going to say that you can put “Slender” or “curvy” and anything else on here is unflattering and not the way you want to make a first impression. I mean, are you really going to put “stocky”?

Obviously be honest about your race, it would be super weird not to. When it comes to religious faith, again be real. I would personally not add that onto my profile because it isn’t something that’s important to me and I don’t subscribe to any religion, but if its important to you then put it down now before you’re pregnant and arguing over if your kid will be circumcised or not. Same goes for political views, although I will say that choosing “middle of the road” looks quite attractive to me. It says, “I’m open to hear what you have to say on the topic”.

Okay, we’re at “how often do you exercise?” Now I personally barely get out of bed to check my mail, but I would put that i at least work out once a week. I don’t want to attract someone as lazy as me. Who would get up to turn the lights off? If anyone puts that they exercise five or more times a week I would never go on a date with them. That’s the type of person who always wears shorts and runs marathons on the weekends for fun. Get a life.

Whoa. “Current annual income?” Girls shouldn’t have to fill this out. Who cares how much we make? We make however much money we plan on taking from you, so we hope you make a lot.

Under “What Do You Do For A Living?” They are all legit and acceptable, but “Self-Employed/Entrepreneur” which basically either means “Out of work actor/waiter at Cheesecake Factory” or “Livin With Mom”.

Ugh, filling this out is taking a long time. I’m getting bored. It’s good to know that whoever filled one of these out, really wants to meet someone. I mean, rape someone.

Okay, “What Are Some Of Your Favorite Local Spots?” I would be careful being too specific. See, I really like the coffee at Urth Cafe, but its so trendy and embarrassing that I would judge someone else for putting it down. And if you put down a club or bar, just know that you sound like a slut.

I think this is cute. I like the check list of things you’d like to do with someone, cause it gives an idea for a good date. And if you wrote “wine tasting” on your own you would seem pretentious and annoying, but in a check list it just seems very sophisticated and mature of you. I’m loving the check list. Also, you obviously can’t check “Nightclubs/Dancing”. I mean you can, but like stop reading my blog.

“What’s The Last Thing You Read?” Okay, if you haven’t picked up a book since it was on a summer reading list, then this is where I would start lying. Just put down the last movie you saw that you heard was a book once.

Whoa. You can narrow down which ethnicity you want your guy to be? How racist would you look if your friends saw that you put Blue eyed Caucasian?! Or what if you just randomly only wanted a Pacific Islander?

This is the most important thing I’ve seen so far. How the hell do you create a 140 word headline for trying to find your life mate?! This is intimidating. Honestly, I wouldn’t make it too serious. Keep it light. Or just Google the top ten best tweets and steal someones. Everyone likes a girl who can be clever. Just please don’t put something like, “I’m just searching for that person I can enjoy a sunset with”.

Here are the rules for your picture.
– Nothing where you’re holding alcohol in your hand, you lush.
– Nothing where you’re doing that pose with your arm out so it looks thin. It’s super obvious.
– Laughing pics are good.
– Silly pics are GREAT. Show’s you don’t take yourself too seriously and that’s the best way to find someone who is the same.
– Be real. Don’t put a picture that is five years old. Or a picture that everyone says is really good and looks nothing like you. You are good looking enough to find true love no matter who you are. That’s the truth. That guy in Mexico who holds the record for being the fattest person alive has a wife. You’re fine.

Okay, I’ve finished filling out my first online dating profile and I’m still alive. This is a good sign for you. I think the goal is to show your true self, show that you’re nervous to be doing it, that you’re open to anything even though it’s a bit out of your comfort zone, and show that even though you take the process seriously you aren’t taking yourself too seriously. No need for a stranger who’s browsing through your profile to know anything too personal about you. If they want to know where you see yourself in five years then they can ask you while they’re buying you dinner in person.