She grew wild, wild but innocent

Dude, so guess who's single! Again. Like the majority of the rest of my life. And probably until the day I die in mansion full of cats and feline paraphernalia. But, hey: It's whatever.
I mean, really. Guys are pretty stupid. Like not even stupid. Obtuse. Yes. Obtuse is the perfect way I'd describe males.
So, I know I suck at flirting the typical way: flipping my luxurious hair, fluttering my beautiful eyelashes, being ever so charming and sincere. But, c'mon guys. I'm leaving it up to you to know that my sarcastic insults and arguing is me coming on to you. So what if I belittle nearly everyone I come into contact with. Use your intuition or something. Jeezzzz.
Oh, and if you're going to be hott (yes, I'm bringing back the Double T), you have no right to be bad at conversation and in no way humorous. Seriously. I don't go to the bar to talk about politics, religion, and education. I go to the bar to watch people suck at pool and be critical of everyone that walks through the door. And if you're going to insist on choosing inane talking points, make sure I don't look the least bit uncomfortable with the subject. Hint: If when you're talking about the powerlessness of women in a certain culture and compare it to the religion in which I was raised (which you know nothing about), take notice that I will try to change the subject, and when that doesn't work and I start a conversation with my friend, you should probably start talking to me about how awful you think Randy Jackson is or The Breakfast Club. Just a pointer.
In addition, guys with long term girlfriends need to knock off this constantly trying to get with other girls thing. I don't even have anything to say about that... Except for if you're the girlfriend. You're probably an idiot too (no offense). "Oh, where's Traivaughn tonight? He's not picking up his phone... Oh, maybe he's volunteering at the homeless shelter. I bet that's it. Good thing we've been together for two+ years or I probably wouldn't trust him." Wow.
Also, despite my cold exterior, I'm a real live girl on the inside. Don't flirt with me for a few days and then ignore me for a while. Believe it or not, that doesn't make me happy. That makes me unhappy. And it doesn't give you an air of mystery or whatever you're going for. It gives you a big, fat Access Denied stamp in my Little Black Book of All the Eligible Men in the World. No one wants that.
This isn't even close to being the entire list of why the male gender is dumb. This is what is bothering me currently.
Oh, and I don't like your hair.

Some days the sky's so blue, I feel like I can talk to you.

It's been five years since the world lost an amazing person. It's been five years since I got a text from a friend and thought it was just some awful rumor going around. It's been five years since I went into my worst ever depression and didn't leave bed for nearly a week. Five years since an important person in my life left without ever saying goodbye. I'd like to say that after five years, I've accepted this fact that he's not here anymore. But I can't say that. I wasn't here when he was laid to rest. I couldn't come home to make my peace with it. I thought maybe going to see where it happened would help. I thought going to see his grave would bring me some comfort. I still don't accept it. Somehow I just keep thinking that he's off some place, on some great adventure, and will just come back someday to tell us all how wonderful his trip was.
Dustin was my first major crush. He was an ass to me and a really great friend. We acted like we hated each other but we had inside jokes. During my first awful breakup, my first instinct was to rush to his house and cry. We didn't always get along, but I would have done anything for him and I like to think he'd do the same for me.
I heard his voice today for the first time in five years. I wasn't expecting it and it took me back to a simpler time when I never saw this coming, but instead saw the most wonderful opportunities for him.
I'm afraid one day I'm going to stop thinking about him, my memories won't be as vivid, I won't be able to remember conversations word for word. I used to be reminded of him daily. Today was the first time in a while, only because I looked at the calendar and saw that it was the 17th and I couldn't figure out what significance the day held.
I know I'm not the only victim, definitely not the most affected, so it seems a little selfish of me to be focused on this. My heart goes out to his loved ones and I hope there is comfort in their lives with the faith of seeing him in another world.
Missing you, Dustin Ryan.

You've got my heart in chains

My name is Marissa and I am a hoarder. I will be the first to admit it. No, I'm not like the crazy people that have rooms full of newspapers and TLC comes in and cleans out the house and finds twelve dead cats under the sofa. I'm a little less severe (for now). What do I hoard? Well, books, for one. Clothes. Pointless trinkets like Lego people and Emo Crys Wild Grinders figurines. Magazines. Pillows. Tears of the people who have crossed me.
Okay, so perhaps I don't technically hoard those things, but I do have more than enough of all of them (minus the tears [maybe]). What I really stockpile is relationships.
I've realized over the last week or two that I have so many past relationships that I refuse to let go of. Not okay. I don't know why I need to keep them around. It's not like I'm going to use them. They're doing me no good. If anything, they're doing me harm. I feel that because of these relationships, I don't get to connect with potential guys.
I would say that half of my relationships, most of which had ended very poorly on both parts, are in the vault of memories that I don't have the key to and that is just fine and dandy with me. Then there's the other half. The half that didn't end badly, but rather, just ended. They ended with no hard feelings. But I think the thing about them is that they ended in feelings of hope. Like maybe we hoped things would work out. That kind of thing.
Due to this fact, I am still friends with these people. And they're always going to have a spot in my heart, very much like the other guys I've dated. But The Spot is much more luxurious and swank than The Vault. While The Vault has a kind of temperamental climate, ranging from tepid to chilly, with very little or no conversation, The Spot is a steadily warm, friendly atmosphere with plenty to drink, delicious diner food, open arms, witty banter, regular texting, exclusive hang out time, and just generally too much flirting. Hopefully, at this point, you can see how this may be a problem, when three or four guys are taking up this space.
Why should these guys get special privileges? Answer: they shouldn't. Yes, yes, they're great friends. There is no denying that. But why should I let them roost in The Spot and not let someone new in? Their invitations have obviously run out, yet I treat them as honored guests. No more!
I've decided that these guys need to be evicted. No, not out of my heart. They're good guys and deserve a place somewhere. Click this. See the tan space around the outside? Those are the outer walls of my heart. The Epicardium, if you will. Doesn't that sound like a fun place?? Boys, you can go there. Help protect my heart. Keep it safe. See everything that's blue and red? That's The Spot and off limits unless I give you a special pass. If you're caught sneaking in, I'll kill you. JK. But no really. They shouldn't even try.
I'm tired of stringing people along and being strung along. It's just gotten out of hand and it needs to stop and this is the only way I can think of to do it. I do love my boys, but it's not fair to anyone for me to wait around for nothing and to make them wait around for the same thing. If they don't want to stick around, that's fine. I wouldn't blame them.
So in conclusion, I guess you could say I'm still hoarding. I'm just transporting all my baggage to a storage facility and keeping it there. But I plan on making regular trips to make sure everything's in good condition. Because that's what crazy people do.

I can't seem to get past page one

I have a curse. I'm not going to make some snarky joke about having the curse of irresistible beauty, however true that fact may be. No, my friends, I have a real curse. Like that of The Brothers Grimm.
Since roughly the spring of 2009, I've not had a relationship/fling/what-have-you that lasted more than a month. Right now, I count five-ish serious relationships in there. Five. Sure, one of those relationships technically lasted a couple months. But I don't count the months following the first one since the day before our one month anniversary he went to jail. I feel like an idiotic high schooler who dates someone for a day and claims they are madly in love with them and inevitably breaks up with them a week later. I mean, I'm honestly embarrassed.
Today, I asked one of my exes (who wishes to remain nameless [he didn't actually say that] and who also doesn't consider our several month relationship to be a relationship at all, but more of a messed up friendship) if I could blame him since he is the last person to last more than a month. He agreed though he didn't have a choice since I'd already typed most of this.
So here's to me pulling a Sleeping Beauty and holing up in a castle, just chillin' in bed, waiting for some hot prince to come save me with a life-saving makeout session. Or, ya know, I'll just keep doing what I'm doing and remain an unsavory companion.

We found love in a hopeless place

So, there's this kid. And I kind of like him. And his name is Ian.
If you don't know Ian, take my personality, subtract the bitterness, add testicles and a lot more goofiness. That's Ian.
I work with this kid. That's how we met. I know, I know. You're thinking "No bueno. No good can come of a romance in the workplace." And I'd probably agree with you if you weren't wrong. Hell, I almost did worry that something negative would happen immediately. But, like I said: You're wrong.
Everyone at work loves us as a pair (as well as individually, I might add). If you are reading this and are from work and do not love us as a pair, chances are a.) we probably don't like you and/or b.) you're a sad, lonely person who can't be loved or love another person because you don't truly love yourself. You choose.
Anyways. Kasey is like a proud mom about it. "I knew as soon as Ian started working here that you two would get together! I'm like a millionaire matchmaker!" Sadly, I'm not a millionaire, Kasey. And neither is Ian. Though that would make the relationship that much better (jk [just in case]).
And even AmyFisher, THE BOSS, said that she knew about us before we even knew about us. And she approves! Talk about being given the blessing!

And just think, if this kid had never threatened to touch me, I probably never would have texted him to tell him that, no, he cannot touch me. And then I wouldn't have continued texting him. And I wouldn't have given him the worst hug in the history of mankind. And we wouldn't have talked through out my entire trip to Florida. And the day I got home from Florida, I wouldn't have visited him at Rutter's. And that night, I wouldn't have gone to a crappy bonfire with him and AndyMay. And I wouldn't have held his hand under a blanket. And I wouldn't have impetuously kissed him. And we wouldn't be as blissfully happy as we are now.

I forgot what else I was going to say about this kid. Oh, yes: he's cute. And I like him. And he thinks I'm pretty. Because he's smart.

Also, I know that being in a relationship kind of ruins the "Going Steadily Single" name. But I will consider myself "unsingle" when I'm married.

Thank you. That is all.

Run your mouth more than anyone I've ever known

I just read a blog post by a used-to-be friend saying that I was her enemy. The whole post was about me and how horrible of a person I am and how I'm mean to everyone and how I stab everyone in the back. Dude, completely dead-on.
Not.
This one goes out to you, Brittni.
I won't lie, I am mean to everyone. I don't mean it in a hurtful way, I mean it in a "I don't really care what you think of me" way.
But calling me a backstabber? That's truly the gem of the post. I never once stabbed you in the back. I don't know if I ever purposely stabbed ANYONE in the back. You wanna talk about backstabbing? How about telling people that I'm a whore? How about spreading around that I cheat on all my boyfriends? How about telling my other friends that I'm a "horrible person" to the point where I'm alienated? How about denying all the things that multiple people have told me you said about me? How about that?
I don't know how I ever, EVER treated you badly, or rather, worse than others.
That time when you cleaned my house WHEN I TOLD YOU NOT TO while I was at work and then you insisted that I bring you a pizza to thank you? No. I told you not to. When I saw you did it anyways, I thanked you. But I'm not buying you a pizza when we had no agreement. I guess you could construe that as mean, but you I see it as some kind of contractual entrapment, and that was just dumb of you.
And what people are you closer to that I also apparently hurt while we were, as you put it, "friends?" Because frankly, you were one of the only people I ever talked to back then. Is it your exboyfriend? Ha. Probably not. Because really, he's the only person I can even imagine "hurting" way back when, but he and I are cool and I know that you two certainly aren't.
And you're saying that people told you that you weren't a mean person when we were together? Hilarious. Because as I recall, many people told you that you were a (pardon my language) bitch when we were together. Not because of me, because, really, we were kind of inseparable, but because you felt the need to act like you were in some kind of control of everyone.
So you've grown from the experience of our friendship? God, I sure hope so. Because when we were friends,  you were the rudest, most abrasive, most obnoxious person I had ever had the delight to be acquainted with.
But you still can't spell "per se."
Oh, and when your "enemy" says hello to you in passing, you say it back. You don't roll your eyes and act like they don't exist.
And just so you know, you're not my enemy. I don't even really care about you, besides the fact that you have nothing courteous to say to or about me, even though we'd been friends for a couple years. My enemy is the spread of unhappiness. Wait, yeah, I guess that would make you my enemy. :)



So, just so everyone knows, I'm aware that the blog post that I mentioned was likely posted knowing I would probably see it and have an adverse reaction. You're welcome. I don't like proving people wrong.

"Hey, are you done with that?"

I have a feeling this is going to be a short, angry, passive-agressive post.
Let's talk about SloppySeconds. I don't mean the urbandictionary.com definition of SloppySeconds. I mean the little more moral SloppySeconds where you date someone else's exes. No, not someone else's one ex. EXES. Plural.
It's not okay. Well, sometimes it's okay, but I'll get to the exceptions at the end.
Right now, one of my exes' exes is dating one of my other exes. Reading that, it makes little to no sense... So let me try to clarify. I was in a relationship with "Frank" for a couple of months. We broke up. He started dating "Denise." I started dating "Horace." Horace and I ended things. Frank and Denise got engaged. Frank and Denise then broke up. A couple months later, Horace and Denise are now dating. Do you understand now?
I mean, I guess I should be flattered. Denise obviously wants to follow in my footsteps and make the same mistakes I did (no offense to my mistakes, if you happen to read this). And she is an obvious downgrade (no offense to the downgrade, if you happen to read this [Who am I kidding? I don't care if you're offended.]) so it kind of makes me feel good about my decision to end things with Frank and Horace.

So, you want my hand-me-downs, Denise? Fine. I'll make you a list. After Horace, there were Miles, Roger, Sebastian, and Abraham, but none of them ever really amounted to anything more than flirting and maybe a kiss. Oh, and between Frank and Horace was Issaac. He's in jail now, but he kind of seems to be your (well, really, OUR) type, so I wish you luck. And before Frank, the more important ones were Albert, Ezra, Jason, and Theodore. Three of them are married and one is on a church mission. Best of luck for those, too. Oh, and please don't give ME the stinkeye when you come into MY workplace. I have to be there. You don't. And, really, I see no reason for you to hate me. Unless your suitors talk about me nonstop. Then, hate away.



I almost forgot to list the exceptions for why SloppySeconds could be okay:

• There are only a handful of survivors from a plane crash stuck on an island and they eventually run out of people to be romantically exclusive with who haven't dated everyone else.
• You're a member of the Mormon YSAs in a few-and-far-between area and to survive you must date everyone until you find The One.
• The end.