Loose lips might sink ships but loose purses buy Prada

The two most important lessons that any man learns in life are to keep a firm hand on his money and a light hand on his razor. It seems simple, save for the future and don't cut yourself. But men, with a penchant for boisterous spending and shooting themselves in the feet, can spend a whole lifetime learning this lesson.

Going through this move has been filled with a whole slew of other lessons. For the first time I am living alone and have nobody to answer to. I can leave the door open when I'm in the bathroom. I can leave a pair of shoes in the middle of the floor for a week. I can eat raw cookie dough out of the package in my underwear while watching the Today show. The lesson being, I can design my own life and I don't need to answer to anyone about it.

So, when my manager at work asked what it is I do every morning that requires two hours between the time I wake up and the time I go to work I was at a loss. Yes, I live five minutes walking distance from work. I could, theoretically get out of bed, walk out the door, and be to work in five minutes. However, explaining why I can't is trickier. I feel like Lucy prompted with the ever daunting "esplain this to me" scenario.

How can I explain to him, a straight man of all things, the importance of conditioning my hair twice, exfoliating my pores, drinking espresso while watching Kathy Lee and Hoda, watching approximately twenty minutes of amateur porn, picking out an outfit for the five minute walk across the street. Having to explain myself to someone suddenly made my life seem very silly. These things that map my day, that make up the very core of my being may not seem important to anyone else but they mean the world to me.

It's always so frustrating to explain to people who wear sweatpants to work why I need to put on a blazer and feel good when I walk out the door, why I wear $560 Prada loafers to serve food to people, why I will spend $5.70 every single day on a double grande nonfat dirty chai from Starbucks, why--with an apartment full of wines and spirits-- I will go to Trump tower and spend $26.00 on a cocktail after work. I know I'm only server in a barely heard about hotel restaurant. I'm the lowest on a tier of d-list gays. I'm in the caste of gays that bring you other sizes, bring you martinis, and bring you a pillow for your flight. The service gays.

I've been thinking about it and these industries are really run by gay people. It's almost a throwback to victorian hired help where men were hired for being tall and handsome into servitude. And they had pride in their position. And if my looks are all I got, why the hell not enjoy them?

Why not have pride in how I look and what I wear? So what, I serve food and I'm supposed to wear fuck ugly clogs and Hanes socks every day? If I'm gonna drop five hundos on some shoes I'm gonna get some use out of them. I go to work at the restaurant five days a week and dammit I'm gonna look fabulous doing it.

Obviously, from this post you can tell I still haven't learned to keep a firm hand on my money, but I assure you I never cut myself shaving.

Grenades, to toss or to date?

There are many signs of growing up. You start making your bed and cleaning the toilet because you actually want to, you save money for a rainy day, you start watching bad morning television. My obsession with the Today show was birthed from several factors. Waking up at 7am with no internet and basic cable leaves very few options to occupy time while drinking coffee. This paired with my near obsessive compulsive adherence to ritual led to me watching every single morning.

I like that the only stories covered are soft news that don't really apply to my life, it's the perfect thing to watch while waking up. Really, I don't know many people under the age of thirty that watch morning news with such regularity. However, I like the familiarity of the anchors and their plasticine faces and smooth voices. I love companionship, and in the absence of having a man to wake up to at least I have Al Roker to tell me the weather.

Today on Today I saw a segment on a toddler that didn't catch a ball at a baseball game, cried, and became an internet sensation. I was at first alarmed by the fact that this stupid baby got a 10 minute segment on the Today show, then the moral of it hit me. This child, who barely has all his motor skills is learning that you don't always get what you want. And here I am, an independent twenty-something, and I'm still learning this same lesson. Was I really as grown up as I was pretending to be?

Was the problem, maybe, that people never really grow up? We seem to get older, have more back problems and struggles. Supposedly we're learning the tough life lessons. But maybe, like the news, it's just the same stories with a different spin.

My most recent dating fiasco finally just came to an end last night. It was my fault really, I have a tendency to date mentally unstable people. These guys are scattered around the dating community like land mines. We met through a mutual friend, had a great first date, happy hour at Flemings, then a happier hour at my apartment. Although he came back to my place I promised not to try anything since we agreed to take it slow. A little making out and cuddling later it was dark and late. I offered to let him stay the night, lent him sweat pants (which he kept on all night), made coffee in the morning and even lent him an outfit to wear in the morning.

I thought I was pretty dang nice. I even tied his bow tie, or I should say my bow tie.

Then I get a barrage of text messages that night when I was unable to meet him for a drink because I already had plans. It is my opinion that men who blow up my phone are the worst offenders when it comes to dating fouls. No trial, straight to execution. Do not resuscitate, do not pass go, do not call back.

However I'm a sap and he was cute so I gave him a second chance but made him promise to see a therapist and be low maintenance. These are the hoops men are jumping through now. It used to be if you had a job and a nice smile you were eligible to date. But now you needed a therapist and a breathalyzer lock on your phone.

We had a week of smooth sailing, another date, another sleepover (pants off this time), and lets just say I understand now where his insecurities stem from. Another barrage of text messages followed the next day. At this point we're into the "shame on me" part of the saying. Fuck me over once shame on you, fuck me over twice shame on me, do it a third time and shame on my therapist.

I'm sure you think I dropped him like a hot potato after this but, well, maybe I need a better therapist.

Despite the fact that he was an emotional time bomb and endowed with a gherkin I decided to give friendship with this person a chance and see if maybe it could be something else someday.

Then I didn't text him for a week and, of course, had to hear his voice about it, ad nauseum. This is it this should be the end right? I should cut him off now. But no, a week later he invites me to an event at Haberdash and I decided sure why not? I got dressed up an put on a pressed shirt, and for someone who carries food and slings cocktails for a living to motivate yourself to get dressed up is no small feat.

An hour before I was about to leave work, out of nowhere, I get another garage of texts which ends is me being uninvited to go as his date. Sure, I had an invite in my inbox of my own. But I was furious. Nobody could say I didn't give this one a shot. And after being as understanding and kind as I was I still got burned. I always do this, I play the part of the nice guy and it bites me in the ass in the end.

So why are we still playing these games? Children learn lessons so quickly, so why is it hard to learn basically the same lessons as an adult? Is it like grade school where you have to keep taking the tests until you pass sufficiently? Am I doomed the be thrown these emotional grenades until I finally learn to just throw them back?

Commandments

I find myself at a turning point in my life. As long as I have considered myself an adult I have been in a relationship, and for the first time in my adult urban-dwelling life I am single. For me relationships were like dominoes, one fell almost immediately into the other. Each impact the catalyst for another relationship, another breakup, and yet another relationship in a very ouroboros-esque cyclic way.
Most people spend their twenties playing the field and figuring out who they are and what they want. I spent mine settling in, settling down, and settling for less. I've always been a relationship person. I like companionship, I like comfort, and I like predictability. I am a creature of habit. I like routine, I like to do the same things in the same order every single day.

The problem is that while most people my age were out becoming the people they'll be for the rest of their lives I was set in my ways before I was even legal drinking age. Now that I am single, and reluctantly so, I am at a loss. I don't recognize myself, I don't recognize my life, and I feel like I'm experiencing something that I should have already experienced. It's worse than de ja vu, I'm experiencing gay ja vu. I'm now thrown back into the gay single scene that drove me to stay in relationships in the first place.

When one relationship didn't work, I immediately jumped into another close approximation of that exact same relationship. I've surprised myself by how dependent I was on having a man in my life. I'm financially independent, fiercely self sufficient, bossy, and I'm right about everything. And if that doesn't make me a catch I'm also a control freak. I must be in control of everything in my life.

Since I moved to Chicago seven years ago I have never been without two things: a boyfriend, and a therapist.

As a writer I'm inclined to write about what happened. I'd like to delve into what in my past led up to this point and over analyze it and develop extended metaphors to explain why it all happened. But this blog is my attempt to put that behind me and write about what is happening now. If you want to know what got me to this point, you'll have to wait for a tell-all book.

I may be letting go and moving on but I'm still a creature of habit and rules. So my new rules, the commandments: 

1. No more bad habits 

2. No more men in the throes of a mid-life crisis 

3. No major commitments to anyone but myself

4. No more extravagant spending 

5. No more excuses