Remember the Beginning

Remember that time that you patiently answered every question that Big Sexy and Captain America had at the rugby game? The first time we met? I was charmed. You were boisterous and funny in the car ride, but then you gently taught the boys without bragging that you knew more than them. I liked the juxtaposition.

Remember when I reached out to you innocuously on Facebook because I hated that you hadn’t shown interest in me? I asked you about a TV show, you answered, and then I ignored you? Remember how you waited a week and then struck up the conversation again? It infuriates me that I had to pursue you. But you know what else? I like that we are equals. That you don’t lay down and let me walk all over you. And I like that you remember what I wore that day. That you remember that I touched your back when I had to scoot behind you.

Remember the long messages we would write each other? Remember how you didn’t ask for my number right away? I really loved that. You let me adjust to talking to you on Facebook messenger. It felt less forward. Friendly. Remember how smart you were (are)? You made me laugh. You caught my pop culture references. Remember how I still have to google yours? Maybe you’re too smart for me. Or maybe you have terrible taste in tv shows 😉 Remember how Big Sexy peaked over your shoulder one time at work and texted his wife and told her that we wrote “novels” to each other? We kind of did. I loved it. I loved that it wasn’t one sided. I loved that you had a lot to say.

Remember that I drove in to town and saw you that very first night? Big Sexy and HLM had an event to go to. You were out at The Garage for work. You were with your friends. I was nervous that we wouldn’t be able to talk easily. Or that you were already hammered. I still came out. I wore all black. And there you were just sitting with your two friends, drinking waters. Your back was to me and when you turned around to hug me, your friends nudged each other and were grinning. Your friends were nice and one of them kept quizzing me. He made me guess his home state with 5 questions. He still owes me a shot. I hope you remind him of that. Remember how we went to get a drink at the bar? Then just stayed there, ditching your friends. I offered to go back to their table, but you said “nah, they’re fine”. They came over to say bye to us. Shots friend leaned in and said “We hope to see a lot more of you around here!” We stayed for a long time. We only had one drink. We were too busy talking. You walked me to my car. You hesitated. I gave you a hug. You didn’t kiss me. You don’t know this, but I remember how I hoped you didn’t kiss me. I wanted a connection with you. I didn’t want to ruin it with a first kiss by my car in front of a bar named The Garage.

Remember how HLM always has people over for spaghetti nights? She did the same thing the next day. Except she conveniently forgot to invite anyone besides you. Remember how we promised to back each other up when she assigned you to bring wine and me to make crescent rolls? We didn’t need any backup. We sat outside under the twinkly lights. It was a little hot and we quickly drank the chardonnay you brought. I usually hate chardonnay, but it tasted really fantastic sitting next to you. The four of us finished both bottles. And margaritas. And after dinner drinks with XO. We told stories and you helped HLM clear the table. Big Sexy smiled at me. I sarcastically asked him what was wrong with his face. He genuinely responded, “I just like seeing you so happy.” You came back out and you held my hand and you whispered jokes in my ear.

Remember how you stayed over that night? Big Sexy suggested it since we had so much to drink. I hadn’t realized it, but I was very very drunk. I felt awful. I went into the bathroom and made myself throw up. Don’t worry. I brushed my teeth for 3 minutes straight. Remember how we sat on their big gray couch together? We talked about everything-families and dating and God and really truly liking each other. You kissed me then. It was sweet and full and easy. You stayed over that night. We probably went too far. We were a little too drunk. We shared too much, but then again, we have since Day 2 (Day 1 you ignored me at the rugby match, duh). I said we were too different. That we shouldn’t do this. You told me you wanted to try. I hope you still do.

Remember how the four of us had breakfast together the next morning? You ate all of HLM’s protein pancakes that I hated. Remember how Big Sexy waited until it got quiet and said “Sorry about last night” and we all burst out laughing because we all knew that we heard them having sex in the next room? I love that you’re a good sport. I love that you adapt well to new situations. I love that you can make light of things.

Remember how two days later you picked up the three of us in your very clean black car? You drive a stick, which I was a little bummed to see. Less hand holding you know? You realized that the other day and mumbled to yourself that maybe you should get rid of it. You drove us to your friends’ new house. They were having a BBQ. You wore a Hawaiian shirt. It made me laugh. I actually liked it…minus the fact that you wore a black mock turtleneck underneath it. You told me later that you liked how you didn’t have to be right next to me the whole time. That I tried to join in the conversation even though you boys dominated it with shop talk. I told you that I loved how you saved Big Sexy from going down a rabbit hole that other people wouldn’t enjoy. You would touch my back when you walked by me. It gave me chills. I love when you touch me. Remember how you told me you don’t like PDA after that day? I’ve made fun of you ever since. You also told me that you think its maybe something you’ll have to get used to. I think you’re too hard on yourself about this, honestly. It hasn’t been an issue, but I am still going to tease you. Pinch your butt when no one is looking. I remember how you made sure not to leave me hanging though. You quickly came around to introduce me. I loved that you paid attention to me. Not everyone does that. I’m lucky.

Remember how all of this happened before we even went on a date?

I loved it all.


My Dating Life Is Under Arrest

The Second One was an alcoholic. 6 months after I broke up with him, he has coffee with me. He originally asked me to get a drink but then texted me the next morning to say coffee instead. He bikes up to the shop. The Second One looks sheepish and handsome which is not unusual. We toss a few biting barbs as our way of saying hello-the wounds are still fresh from each other and an easy target in which to pour some salt. 

Then he tells me about his second DUI he just got. 

No wonder we’re getting coffee. 

He had been “hanging out with his friend Richard” earlier he says with a slight wink in his voice, hinting that hanging out may or may not have included clothes being worn. They were drinking all morning and TSO thought he could still drive to work his shift as a barista. In front of the store there are about 6 places in a row for parallel parking. He whips around the corner and plows the sides of all 6 cars. 

He wants sympathy and acceptance. He has God for that. I just feel sad. 

Fast forward about two years. I’ve moved back to my town. I’m swiping away for distraction and entertainment and good ol’ Texas boys. There’s a cop that seems very upright and quiet and has really deep brown eyes. He’s adamant that he should get to know me. We spend a few dates together talking about music and such. He seems a little…slow…but sometimes you just need someone around to make out with. And boy does Cop fill that bill. We have great chemistry. He’s very tempting. He also works nights and is a bad texter, and his family dynamics seem strange, and he doesn’t really have any true friends, and wait-is that racist/sexist/bigoted shit coming out of his mouth? He keeps trying to nail me down and make it official. I dip and dodge and eventually sort of agree. One week later I never hear from again. After he begged, y’all. Makes no sense. 

The best part though? It turns out Cop was heading to a trial of a guy he arrested 1.5 years ago for a second DUI. Turns out that guy was TSO. TSO was suing Cop for a technicality. I dated the guy who arrested my ex. My ex sued a new guy I dated in order to be able to leave the state to move in with his new boyfriend in NYC. 

Dear Lord, why am I even trying? 

2015. A Big Thing & A Feeling & An Exhale

I started this year by myself. Toasting the year with champagne and chipped black nails. By chance, my nails are the same and my relationship status is the same.
A big thing that happened: I did a huge cleanse. No sugar, no dairy, no salt, no gluten, no nuts. I lost 7 pounds in two weeks, kept it off, and basically seemed to balance my hormones for the first time in a year.
A feeling I felt: Overwhelmed with newness. New hormones and new engagement for my best friend in the world.

Big thing: Lots of adventures with my best friend. Snow days, sing alongs, wedding dress shopping, and hikes.
Feeling: Sadness that my life would not always stay this way. What would we do without the rhythms that we were used to? What would we do without each other? What would I do alone?

Big thing: I got hair extensions that changed how I felt about myself. I also travelled to New Orleans with my coworker bff and visited a psychic who accurately predicted my big move, pinned my past boyfriend to a T, and predicted my work bff’s future beau. At this same time, I exchanged cards with a man that worked in Boston.
Feeling: Fresh and renewed. New Orleans gave me permission to breathe and just have fun again.

Big thing: I took several trips to see my family. First, my darling best friend cousin visited Texas where we two-stepped, ate burgers, and drank margaritas in the streets. Second, I wore matching dresses with my beautiful 7 year old niece.
Feeling: Warm with familial love. Who doesn’t want to feel special with their family. My cousin and I are still close after years apart, and my niece looks at me like I hung the moon and made the stars sparkle.

Big thing: One of my best friend’s left my college town and my work bff/boss left our company. I also got to see Taylor Swift live. I loved her since her first CD so this was wonderful.
Feeling: Left behind. People were moving on and up and I was in school for something that never felt rewarding. I felt stuck in life, location, love, and work.

Big thing: I traveled to see one of my collegiate friends in California. We dressed in our fashion-y-est outfits and drank wine in Napa. We talked about big career goals, race, friendship, and other big life things.
Feeling: Inspired to be my best self. The best type of support is solidarity in your situation. Someone that is going through the same trenches as you.

Big thing: My dog broke his toe. It cost $400 and required us to go to the vet several times a week. My best friend had her bachelorette weekend full of sun and alcohol and tension and celebration.
Feeling: Incredulous at the mundane things in life. How can a little pinky toe on a dog be the same price as my rent? How can I want life to speed up but stay the exact same forever?

Big thing: I graduated with my master’s degree and I was recruited by the guy from Boston. The same one from March. I had a phone interview for my dream city on the East coast.
Feeling: Excited that my life finally seemed impressive again. Sad that I felt the need to “keep up with the Jones'”. Pathetic that “The Jones'” were my beautiful, unique, talented, and diverse set of supportive friends.

Big thing: My best friend in the whole world got married. Oh, and I interviewed in person in Boston. And got offered the job. But mostly, the love of my life up to this point, found the love of her life for forever.
Feeling: Utterly thrilled for my heterolifemate. Utterly devastated for myself. They existed on different planes completely. Happy to have an offer that meant I could take my life into my own hands. That the decisions of others weren’t the only things that changed every little tiny aspect of my life.

Big thing: I moved. To Boston. By myself. I packed up my life, sold my car, left my home of the last 6 years, took my dog, and road tripped to a little brownstone apartment in the heart of the city.
Feeling: Every single feeling. Every single day. That’s what uprooting your life and moving to a city where you don’t know a single soul does for you.

Big thing: Everyone I loved came to visit me. I explored the new city. I had equal amount of good days and bad days. I went on a few dates. I turned down some terrible offers. I stuck up for myself at work, celebrated Thanksgiving at home, and made a bunch of smart and dumb decisions.
Feeling: Brave. Like every single day I’m learning more about who I am and what I truly want out of life.

Big thing: I hosted my parents and my sister in my little, cozy apartment in the city. Saw the ballet, ate award winning Christmas dinner, went to a Bruins game, and continued to get annoyed by my sister no matter how grown up we get. Oh…and I might have realized what I told you in my previous post.
Feeling: The fluidity of life. It’s an adventure. It’s a ride. It’s better to be able to go with the flow, to accept things as they come, and to fully be myself.

So that is what I’m going to do. Less up and down. Less down. More up. I read somewhere once that there are “inhale years and exhale years”. I had a big ol’ inhale year. I know that I’ll still be inhaling a whole hell of a ton, but I’m hoping to balance it with big, yoga-“om” style, insides-massaging, bad ju-ju releasing, exhale. 


Have you ever had your friends say something like “but he can’t handle me” or “I want someone who can handle me!” in regards to the boys out there that seem intimidated? The ones that make side eyes at you, g-chat you all day long at work, somehow get your number but just randomly text you things like “The-Dream is my high school in one artist” after they see your feed on Spotify? My group of girls always seem to come back to this notion that we are too much for modern men to handle. That we don’t get asked out or pursued. Especially by the ones we want.

Lately, though, my argument has been But why do I want someone that says they “handle” me? My father doesn’t “handle” my mother. Big Sexy doesn’t “handle” my bff. Mr. Darcy didn’t handle Elizabeth! They love these women!

Every time I make this argument I sing Beggin For Thread by Banks.

So I got edges that scratch
And sometimes I don’t got a filter
But I’m so tired of eating
All of my misspoken words
I know my disposition gets confusing
My disproportionate reactions fuse with my eager state
That’s why you wanna come out and play with me

I don’t want to beg for thread. I don’t want to be someone’s second or third option. I don’t think that someone should have to think for 3 months about whether or not they want to ask me on a date. If you are intrigued, ask. If I’m beautiful and witty, ask. If you are a little scared, ask. If you can’t see my worth enough to have 30 seconds of courage, don’t bother.

I’m not going to beg for thread. I’m not too much to handle. I’m pretty fucking amazing.

Abercrombie and Awkward

We get ready in her tiny little apartment. It has one and a half windows, painted white cabinets, and four pieces of furniture. Tonight, we’re happy. We dance around to our “We Out” playlist made in the honor and spirit of the Ciara song of the same name. HLM met a boy, a man, really (Big Sexy for short) a few days earlier. We are going to meet him at a small country bar that has pretty great live music. His cousin is playing and Big Sexy wants to spend every second with HLM the last few days. She wants to as well but keeps pretending otherwise, “but what if he always wants to be together. This is a lot.” Already talking like they are a real couple after four days of hanging out. I encourage her to be open to him because I knew she was going to fall in love after their first date. HLM and I danced and jumped around far too long for her to not be in love with him.

She wore a purple tank that draped low across her chest and was sure to have Big Sexy captivated. I was attending with them mostly so I could spend some time with him and observe HLM being infatuated. She never likes anyone and she seems to like him. He arrives to pick us up and he’s wearing his typical old man style button up. Standing next to him is his Abercrombie model brother in a black polo. Well well well, I think, mentally rubbing my greedy hands together, this is a wonderful development. He’s 2 years younger than me. 19 at this point. Too young to get in to this bar, but since his cousin is playing, he sidles up right inside and he and I quickly intertwine our legs together on the barstools. Big Sexy doesn’t notice but HLM does. Routinely poking that “Oh heeeeyyyy” spot located between your hips and your ribs. I buy Abercrombie Jack and Cokes and we laugh about how infatuated the new couple is.

None of us listened to the music. No idea what his cousin sounds like. The boys drive us home. Big Sexy didn’t drink but Abercrombie and I are buzzed and have slid close to each other in the backseat. His arm goes around my shoulder and he rubs his thumb in big strokes across my whole back. Back at the Almost-Windowless apartment, HLM breaks out her parent’s old foldable picnic table. The two huge boys sit across from us, we get more beers and play Apples to Apples. Abercrombie has his hand under the table and is stroking my leg the whole time. Big Sexy has no idea why HLM ushers him out the door to go “pick up ice cream” at the grocery store. As soon as they’re out the door, we’re together. His body is hard and his lips are stiff. He’s a good kisser but a stubborn one. His hands move quickly and he sets me on the leather couch. We’re fast and furious and making out like high schoolers. He jumps up and we arrange in .2 seconds when we hear the warning knock on the door. HLM wordlessly giggles and Big Sexy looks shocked as he realized for the first time what was happening all night.

In true high school fashion, nothing ever comes from this. Besides every awkward interaction as we run in to each other every few months over the last year and a half. HLM and Big Sexy fell in love. They’re engaged now and couldn’t be happier.

Abercrombie and I are the Best Man and Maid of Honor.

Gap Year: Intro

Hello, my lovely unintentional readers who have wondrously started to follow and read my blog, I have some news for you. One of my very greatest friends is the type of friend who knows everyone and is friends with them too. She’s charming, beautiful, and driven. I think her best quality, however, is her ability to encourage her friends to be exactly who they are. Readers, meet Honey Never Rots. Enjoy!

I always have a plan. No, really I do. I have the type of friends that ask “So,Now What?” So a plan is usually a must. At least an outline of a plan.  I don’t always Never follow the plan but I still like to have one.  We ambitious girls sleep a little better with one. Makes us feel better to have answers when people ask us the 5 W’s (who, what, where, when and (most importantly) WHY.)  

So last October my plan was simple.  Quit my mentally-draining-shithole-first-outta-college-job.  Move in with my grandma.  Save money and move to Chicago in 6 months.  I think I told anyone and everyone that would listen. Mind you I’ve only been once on a girls trip and only did tourist shit but I was determined to get there.

Granted, I left myself a lot of room for whatever serendipity would come.  So that’s how October 2013-October 2014 became my “Gap Year” so to speak. Growth was the only thing I felt like I had to do within these next 365 days.


I have traveled…A LOT. Paid off a bill or two. Hired a personal trainer. Lost 20-ish pounds. Thought seriously about saving money. Quit another job. Started a safe job (By safe I mean: decent pay, close commute, doesn’t make me feel drained).

Oh and I met Handy. 




Honey Never Rots

“Actually, I just woke up one day and decided I didn’t want to feel like that anymore, or ever again. So I changed. Just like that.” –Instagram meme lol