run on

I really didn't want to go.

That's what happens when you stop doing something. 

Your body gets accustomed to its absence. 

But I didn't wanna give up.

I wanted to be that girl again. 

So I jumped in my car and drove into the city to try and find her. 

And when I walked in there was no one around the front desk so I didn't bother even scanning my card. 

I just passed everyone like a ghost.

I looked up at the 60 foot walls and the climbers working their way to the top.

I kept walking up the stairs to the bouldering walls continuously moving as I scanned the walls looking for a route I wanted to climb. 

And I realized I never stopped walking because I was rounding the corner of the last wall and then I stopped. 

And I scanned the gym in its entirety, the strangers I'd never know, the memories flooding back--the first time I made it to the top, the time Kai came over to give me a hug & ask if I was ok, the time him & I got dumped the same day & discovered it while standing on those mats, the way he'd walked past me while looking directly in my eyes, right through me. 

I'd started climbing because of him. 

It was shortly after I broke up with him. 

He said climbing was important to him. 

So I wanted it to be important to me. 

And then I fell in love with it. 

But then I lost my climbing buddies and I never met any new ones. 

And I suddenly didn't want to be there anymore. 

I wasn't that girl.

I was someone else. 

And I wanted to be someone else. 

So I walked down the stairs and this time there was someone at the desk. 

I think I want to cancel my membership, I said.

How much is it to cancel?

Nothing. There's no fee to cancel. 

So that's what I did. 

He reached for the cancellation form. 

I lightly laughed. 

It's pink, I said. 

Bright pink. 

I always had this habit of climbing all the routes with pink holds. 

Those were mine. 

I gave him the pass from my key ring and walked out relieved. 

I finally let myself quit.

I didn't want to be in that space anymore. 

And I didn't want to climb alone. 

And it felt so good to just let myself change. 

To stop trying to be someone I just wasn't anymore. 

I drove down to the waterfront and started running. 

Because that's the kind of girl I was now. 

Alone. 

Free.  

And moving on. 

Climb On

I found out the other night that Marvin hates cheesecake. 

Like, obscenely irrational disdain for a dessert normal people think is delicious. 

And the first thought I had was, Now I know how to bug him when he pisses me off. 

I'm a sick little bastard.

It's not like I mean to be wicked. 

I just think one of the keenest parts of intimacy is when you learn exactly how to piss off your lover. 

This guy I know was having a really good hair day. 

I mean he looked like he could be on the cover of the Willamette Week.

Now that's fancy hipster. 

Your hair looks really good today, I said. 

I really wanna mess it up.

He blinked twice. 

I don't know how to respond to that, he said. 

What? That's a compliment. It's like when you see a perfect sand castle on the beach and you just want to knock it down. Don't you ever just wanna destroy something beautiful?

He stared blankly at me and I suddenly felt like I was on a Christian Mingle date. 

Finding people who understand your particular brand of fucked-up-ness can be difficult. 

And in part, because you're not always sure what exactly it is you want. 

I keep trying to motivate myself to climb again and every time I think about going everything in my body screams, I don't wanna.

And I'm not exactly sure what I'm mourning, but it makes me sad. 

But I don't have my climbing buddies anymore. 

I have zero friends to climb with. 

And it challenges me and it scares the crap out of me and that's really fucking scary to do alone. 

And sometimes I don't feel like trusting a stranger to belay me or not judge me for being wildly out of shape. 

And then I feel like an insecure teenager and that pisses me off because I am not that girl. 

But the problem is your friends make you stronger. 

And I did climb better when they were cheering me on. 

Kai used to push me and I hated it but then I'd do it and he'd say, See, I told you you could do it.

And I'd be annoyed and happy and exhilarated and exhausted. 

And I fucking miss that. 

I fucking miss my friend. 

Tonight I thought about how I heard from The Phantom and that there are texts in my phone from him and how wildly crazy that simple fact is. 

I wondered why that couldn't be enough and why I had to want to see him again, to want more, some other magic moment between us, and how if I didn't crave anything else I could just feel satisfied with the brief story that existed between us. 

And then I saw my face staring back at me in the mirror and this sharp pain hit my chest. 

I wish it had been Kai who texted me, not The Phantom. 

And it was like my heart suddenly remembered what it had lost. 

And I suddenly felt sad. 

And I know part of the reason I can't bring myself to climb anymore is because I'm afraid of seeing him and afraid of being sad when I don't see him. 

And it seems so fucking ridiculous but it was such a fear for me, climbing, and it was something I conquered with him. 

And he believed in me when I didn't believe in myself. 

And I guess I just don't understand how a kid I dated for a month a year ago can care enough to text me in the middle of the night.

And the kid I spent most of four years beside can so easily forget me. 

Life stings. 

And I hope some night I can be brave again and remember how much I loved proving myself wrong.

The problem is I never did believe I could do it. 

That's what the love from others gives us. 

Strength. 

one conversation

The other night I couldn't sleep. 

I was in bed with the lights out, as though creating the scene for sleep would force my body into submission. 

But my mind. 

My poor little mind was in turmoil.

Relationships are so confusing.  

Not just with my lovers, but with my friends. 

The people I assume will always be there stop texting. 

And people I never thought I mattered to care more than I ever realized. 

I hate secrets. 

The surest way to rift a perfect union is withholding. 

And keeping the burdens of your heart from your soul mates is sure to effect the intimacy. 

I've been feeling like I miss the people who sit right beside me. 

But are miles away in the canyons of their heart. 

And it's isolating, to feel locked away from the most important thoughts of your closest friends. 

But you can't feel hurt because it's not about you. 

It's never about you. 

But then why does it affect you so?

And just then my phone rang. 

It wasn't a text. 

A friend was calling me. 

And the first thought I had as I saw her name scrolled across my phone at 12:09am is, She must be pocket dialing me.

Because no one talks on the phone anymore. 

But she just wanted to hear my voice. 

And I almost started crying because in that moment I felt so loved. 

And even though we didn't see each other all the time.  

And we didn't talk all too often. 

All these years and we've been synced like sisters. 

Soul mates. 

And forty-three minutes later when I hung up the phone I didn't feel alone anymore.  

And it's amazing what letting someone in to your heartache can do for you both. 

And when my friends get together and share how we first met they all say the same thing: I sought them out. 

I must have a gift for identifying kindred spirits. 

And wanting to hold on dearly to each and every one of them. 

But I've never had control over the ones who've stayed. 

And it's overwhelming to feel so helpless about mattering enough to someone for them to keep you as a part of their broken little world. 

And in quiet moments of the night my heart aches for those who wrote me out of their story. 

And sometimes, in those same quiet moments, someone hears my heart and reaches out. 

Because they're grasping onto me as tightly as can be to remain a bright light in my own shattered little world. 

And I love them unconditionally for that. 

Things I've Learned from Dating every guy on Tinder

In keeping with tradition of a night often filled with disappointment, Valentine's Day seemed a good time to share the things I've learned from sleeping with all of Portlandia.

Guy time is different than girl time. 

When a guy says talk to you soon or let's get together soon what they actually mean is I'll catch ya in a week or six. 

To a girl, "soon" means a couple of days. 

At a minimum, within the week.

To a guy?

Soon means sometime in the future when I get around to it probably after I forget and level up on this video game and finish writing the next great American novel then we'll meet for some sex soon. 

That kinda soon.

Hey buddy.

23 days is not, in fact, "soon."

When you go on a tinder date you have no idea if the guy is gonna pay or not.

And it's not socially acceptable to ask if he's gonna pay because then you sound like an asshole.

So you just get to roll the Tinder dice and wonder if you should get an appetizer because after all, how happy is this hour?

When I was unemployed and broke as fuck I literally couldn't afford to date.

Guys who asked me out I'd make a point to say something about being broke and some guys would then volunteer, Well don't worry about it tomorrow night is on me. 

Awesome. 

Thank you. 

I will order the steak tartare now.

Sometimes I pay and I'm fine with it (don't get your sexist panties in a twist) but there is a legit reason women need men to pay. 

//More on that next time//

I do wish there was a way to know ahead of time what to expect regarding your wallet without looking like an epic douche. 

Guys who have sex on the first date are not all the same. 

That old notion of sex on a first date ruining your chances of a relationship with that person?

Eeeeeh. 

Wrong. 

Some guys never call again.

True. 

But some guys won't leave you alone.

And it's never the ones you think. 

I'm like, Ok, well that was awkward. Clearly never seeing that wackadoodle again.

And then the next morning he's the one that's like, Last night was really fun let's do it again sometime. 

Are you fucking serious??

And months later when you forgot all about him he's still texting you wanting to know how your weekend was. 

Another thing I've learned from dating ever guy on tinder is that 28 year olds are too young for me. 

It's this toxic age Mercury rising Saturn return becoming a man child year and yet I can't stop swiping right to all of them. 

If you're 28 I've probably swiped right just because you're 28. 

Also.

You take the best photos and understand the balance of lighting, a filter, and a well angled selfie. 

Let's have sex. 

Half the guys on tinder are new to the app. 

They're new to Portland. 

They're new to vagina. 

I'm like, Oh have you been on Tinder long? 

Two days. 

One week.

This is my first Tinder date.

And they've just moved here.

I've lived here two weeks.

I've been here about a month.

Six months.

My girlfriend just kicked me out of her place around Xmas. 

Apparently I'm the fucking Tinder welcome wagon.

Emphasis on fucking.

Some guys really like to text. 

Some guys hate texting. 

Some guys are like hi. 

Hey. 

Hi. 

Hey. 

Hi. 

I don't wanna see your penis anymore. 

Some guys are really sensitive. 

I've had several guys recently start talking to me about how sad and lonely they are, they just got dumped they're having an existential crisis they were really hoping I'd be their distraction for the night. 

Hey, honey?

The sob story is a little heavy for a tinder chat. 

I'm gonna need you to reel it in, shove a tampon up there, and just calm down. 

Savvy?

Photos on Tinder I Don't Understand

In honor of St Valentine's Day--the patron saint of overpriced roses at Safeway--I thought I would share some of the What-the-Fuck-is-up-with-that photos I see as profile pictures on Tinder.

Happy Fucking Valentine's Day.

Penguins

A landscape

Your ex girlfriend's face.

A carnation. 

That's not even a good flower.

That Facebook default silhouette.

Seriously, with all the selfies in the world you couldn't just Google one?

A photo of you as a five year old.

Are you telling me you want me to be a pedophile?

A truck.

Three trucks.

We know all you own is a Vespa.

A lion.

A monkey. 

If you don't have 6 pictures of yourself then just put up 4. 

Don't put up a chimpanzee. 

What exactly do you think that does for us?

You flipping off the camera. 

You flipping off the camera again. 

You flipping off the camera in a shirtless bathroom selfie. 

You are essentially flipping yourself off, Jack. 

You're telling yourself to go fuck yourself. 

I mean I'm all for masturbation but that feels a little ridiculous. 

Your age says you're 103. 

Older guys are sexy but I think you might be taking it too far. 

You're drinking in the shower. 

It's a shirtless bathroom selfie in the shower. 

And you're drinking. 

Oh, who am I kidding, that's kind of awesome. 

A fortune cookie. 

A chocolate martini.

A cartoon Easter bunny dressed as superman. 

I mean, what the actual fuck?

A motorcycle. 

Two motorcycles. 

Two pictures of the same motorcycle. 

I get it. You don't have a car. 

Psy from gangnam style. 

Actually that totally made me laugh. Well done. 

When you cut your head out of the photo and it's just your torso. 

It's creepy as fuck. 

I really don't wanna fuck a headless guy.

Not on Valentine's Day.

Jesus.

That time I got back together with that guy I sort of broke up with except we were never really official

I sat there across from him and I knew. 

It really was over. 

I felt a little different. 

Maybe it had been a little too long. 

Maybe I wasn't cut out for monotony. 

Excuse me. 

Monogamy.  

He even looked different, is that crazy?

I just felt disconnected and like I was drinking with a stranger instead of this guy I almost kinda sorta had real feelings for. 

I don't even know what he was rambling on about because I'd tuned him out and was wondering why I'd gotten dolled up for this when I could have been in bed in my underwear eating Doritos. 

Your hair looks really nice, by the way, he suddenly interjected, in the most surprising way possible. 

Somewhere in the middle of his, And one time he made me a card with a race car and a stick figure guy that was supposed to be me and a dinosaur saying, Happy Birthday. 

Pause.

Your hair looks really nice, by the way.

I was almost startled because it was the first moment since he sat down that I felt any connection to him at all. 

And I was already on my second old fashioned. 

He looked at me in that way, that way the men who make us swoon do, and I suddenly felt beautiful sitting across from him. 

I didn't know what I wanted. 

I have no fucking clue. 

Don't men know that?

And at some point we got on the subject of "us" namely why I'd sort of ended things and how surprising it was he'd responded in such calm. 

It's not a big deal. I assume conflict is going to be a part of any relationship. It's just something you work on. 

I held my glass midair instead of letting the cool glass reach my lips. 

And just stared at him. 

Was he high?

Who was that fucking calm about bumps in Couple Land?

All the men I was used to dating were like, oh you raised your voice to me you said I wasn't perfect now I'm gonna unfriend you on facebook.

Was I --

Actually-

On a date with a--

Man??

He flashed his dimples at me and said, Don't overthink it. 

And it was that simple. 

Just like that. 

I'd asked him if he liked me and I wish I'd snapped a photo of the look he gave me. 

Complete and utter shock as though the question was so absurd to even be in existence. 

And I quickly interrupted the look with a No. It's a legit question. I never see you and I rarely hear from you, how would I know?

And it was so, well, lovely. 

To have an honest, open dialogue about what was missing and what wasn't working and to have him just sit there. 

Calmly. 

Drinking his beer. 

Like it was a perfectly normal, relaxing discussion to have and it's cool. 

It's all good. 

He gave no fucks. 

But not because he didn't care. 

Because he gave no fucks about being called out on his bullshit. 

So. Fucking. HOT.

I don't really know what I want. 

I don't. 

And that's ok. 

But meeting someone who is more than willing to listen to my dissatisfaction and want to simply work through it?

That. 

I definitely did want. 

To making up the fucking rest as we go along. 

People Suck

Sometimes people really suck. 

Sometimes even my cat sucks. 

People are selfish. 

They're withholding. 

They change their mind. 

And then they change their mind again. 

And all the while I can hear my Mother telling me to "Not-take-it-personal" which is really the most ridiculous expression we've ever come up with except for maybe "cold-enough-to-freeze-the-balls-off-a-brass-monkey."

Which I don't even want to try and understand. 

Of course I'm gonna take it personal when my friends are assholes. 

How can I not take it personal?

Oh, you wanna ditch me for some guy? Some guy you're cheating on? Or some guy you know you're gonna be bored with in two months? How 'bout that guy who refuses to go down on you? Or what about the one with the unusually small dick? Yes! Please, ditch me for that and I won't take it personal because everyone should be sleeping with the person they sort of like instead of hanging out with their best friend. 

I hate everyone. 

Look, I get it. 

Relationships are exciting. 

Especially when they're new and you haven't yet accepted the truth that they're not actually your soul mate and you will have to go on another Tinder date before you're 40.

But for me?

My girlfriends are my soul mates and I cannot fathom putting time with the penis I'm using before fellowship with them. 

Oh I'm sorry. 

Did I say penis? 

I meant guy. 

And I didn't mean using I meant dating. 

Guy I'm dating. 

Penis I'm using. 

It's like, the same fucking thing. 

I also feel unbelievably annoyed because I can't even be a bitch right back at them and ditch them for penises of my own because all the guys I like are either traveling, studying on buses, or married. 

So yeah. 

It's hard being me. 

But I don't wanna ditch my friends for sex anyway!

Gaaaaaaawwwwwwwd.

Why, at age twenty-thirty-something are women still acting like giant ass cracks and putting the dick they ride before the girls who tell them they're too good for that dick when it breaks their heart?

I feel like we never really grow up. 

It's still lockers and homeroom and talking about boys all night in our underwear. 

Relationships are great. 

And we should have them. 

We should all be in love and in lust and be excited to be consumed by someone. 

But not. 

At the cost of sacrificing our divine sisterhood. 

Last summer I didn't see one of my best friends for two months because she was so consumed in loverville. 

Two. Months. 

Another girlfriend I rarely saw after she got a boyfriend and when I told her I never saw her since she started dating him she denied it and then I didn't see her again for nine months. 

People suck. 

So fine. 

The next time you bitches need me because you're all butt hurt about something some guy did I'm gonna ditch you for a Tinder date. 

A mediocre first Tinder date where I have to pay for my own damn Jameson. 

Except I would never do that. 

Because you mean everything to me. 

Even when you're a bunch of assholes. 

starry nights

I drove to the coast last weekend.

There's something about getting away that feels incredible. 

And also makes you really happy when your car pulls back into your driveway. 

Driving long distances makes me happy. 

It's one of the only times I sit and just listen to music. 

And sing. 

And stare at the stars. 

On my drive back, it was so late the stars were dancing alongside my car. 

Part of me wanted to pull over on the highway and lay in the grass and just stare. 

They don't have stars like that back home. 

The stars above my apartment are timid and distant, like an old college crush who would never even poke you on Facebook.

Oh but these stars.

These stars were what poets wrote sonnets over. 

These stars beckoned and sang out, willing you to stay right where you were.

Soaking in their shine. 

But like most of life, though a part of me wanted to stop, another part wanted to drive on.

The song that was playing I didn't want to stop. 

And my kitten and my bed also beckoned me.

So I tilted my phone towards the sky and with one tap catured the diamonds shimmering in the sky. 

Except I couldn't. 

Because the lack of light that made the stars so brilliant made it impossible for me to capture it. 

And then I smiled. 

Because life is perfect in its contradictions. 

Always wanting both what's ahead and behind us.

Wanting to be present and wanting to be alone at home. 

Wishing he was in the car beside you and grateful to be free. 

Thinking of him. 

And him. 

And also him. 

And knowing happiness exists with all of them. 

And everywhere. 

And somethings surpass capturing. 

Some things can only be.

As they are. 

Felt in all their glory by one soul.

And that's completely captivating.