I'm pretty sure I have declared myself to have hit rock bottom before but it turns out, there are lots and lots of bottoms left to crash through. How nice.

This time, it was me googling the "normal" time span people usually feel like shit for after a break-up and if that isn't enough of a downfall, I ended up on a psychology site that listed different stages of awful feelings, which just made me feel some more of them right away.

I just hit my head on my bedframe. That's what you get for sitting on it in the middle of the day.

Anyways, I find that these supposedly helpful tips either make you sad all over again because they formulate the sickness you feel, or they make you feel bad because they keep on telling you that you'll get over it and that all the things you wish you'd gather the courage up to do, like writing a letter or just calling him up, would not change anything. I'm sorry, but do they know anything about anyone's relationship, at all? When you're desperate enough to rely on the internet to feel better, it is totally not helping to be chastised by may-or-may-not-have-a-degree psychologists on top of it all. Stuff like "Stop this", "don't do that", "that's not relevant" is so not what we tormented souls need to hear. What I want is to be pet on the back and told that my point of view is the only valid thing in the world, being:

It's okay to hold on to your pyjama's like they're a security blanket.

It's okay to not be hungry, just as it is okay to try and fill the emptiness with Chinese food and chocolate. Just, like, don't starve.

It's okay to spend days at a time on the couch watching hours of sitcoms from beginning to end.

It's okay to complain about not doing anything with your life besides watching hours of sitcoms from beginning to end.

It's okay to feel unable to do anything to distract yourself even though you want to.

It's okay to enjoy things that distract you.

It's okay to switch from enjoying those things to being sad again.

It's okay to crave company.

It's okay to bring up that same topic to your company again and again even though there's nothing new to add and you end up being sad.

It's okay to cry. In the middle of the day, in the middle of the night, right after you wake up, when your noodles fall of your spoon, when something reminds you of them, when you wash your hair, when you're alone, when you're with a friend.

It's okay to miss them.

It's okay to make up dramatic metaphors about how your whole body feels raw and bruised and every move hurts.

It's okay to take breaks from thinking about it.

It's okay to feel like you're never gonna be okay again. I'm not even gonna tell you that you will be, eventually, because personally, hearing that makes me wanna throw up, and I think that's okay as well.

The list goes on.

Love,

Rosy Smith

So, I'm not too informed on how other people handle this, but I feel like in a relationship, there have to be two kinds of occasions to meet the other person. On the one hand, it's the nights in with a movie or some board game (can't you just feel my youthful spirit) where you just talk and make out and stuff and eat pizza on the floor. Those nights are pretty great, don't get me wrong. In fact, I went out all day yesterday with my oldest friend and her crowd and by the end of the day I was really wishing I'd been having one of those pizza nights instead of standing around all day in flat shoes and still getting back pain from it.

However, the other kind of thing is as important as those: Real dates. As in "taking someone out for it".  Obviously, you have to think these ones through a bit more, and I find that especially hard (I like to be the one who gets taken out rather than the taker), but I've come up with some ideas to make it easier, so here we go:

Make sure that transportation is taken care of. There's nothing worse than having to figure out logistics for what's supposed to be a romantic adventure, so don't even suggest me taking the train to meet you somewhere. I'm a big defender of the old value of a man picking up a girl in his car. If you don't have one, or can only break out your family's old station wagon, don't give up: Just rent one! There's a peer-to-peer car rental company called Turo that allows you to choose from lots of different types of cars (even race cars, if you like it fast) without having to deal with a big rental company. I looked up available cars in New York just now, and even for little money you can get some pretty cool rides, no matter if you just want something to flash your date with when showing up at her doorstep or if you plan on making the car the attraction and head off to a week-long road trip. Check out their website!

Choose a place that feels like a date. I'm talking restaurants with dimmed lights and discreet waiters who appear by your side with a ghostly swoosh; jazz cafés with low chairs and a twenties-feel to them where it's not weird to start dancing tightly intertwined; old-school movie theatres with plushy seats, cocktail service and classic Hollywood flicks on the program. Not your local steak house with an all-you-can-eat salad buffet and screaming kids in the next booth. Give me something to dress up for, won't you?

Or choose a place that you feel your date would like. Obviously you can screw all of the above if you know that your special company would die for the Mac n Cheese at the Red Lobster (I've never been there, thinking about it, but who knows) but no one ever goes with her 'cause her friends hate seafood (whatever). Or if she is a Disney freak who'll gladly be joined by a mob of middle school girls on their class trip to the newest installment of Frozen (will there be installments? I should do my research more thoroughly). Anything that makes someone happy will make for a good date, so it doesn't need to be featured in the ten pm newsflash to go well.

Don't give anything away. I am so into being taken out, my vision of a perfect plan is a plain "Be ready at seven" eg. the fact that I don't have to plan a thing. Call me unfeminist, but I have no problem at all with not knowing how it's about to go down - I trust him with knowing enough about my idea of fun to not make me jump off a building or something else that will ruin my hair. Also, it's so much more like a sweep-me-off-my-feet movie scene where the hero just grabs the heroine's hand and shows her the beauty of the city/the fun of being a streetcat (AristoCats is the joy of my existence)/basically a good time.

Have fun, too. I am aware that I mostly talk about the took-outs part of the deal, but you see: A date is, essentially, simply something to do while you're spending time with someone you like, and who wants to spend time with a cranky human who doesn't like what you're doing at all? Right, so the point is that whatever you're doing, both of you should enjoy. Mood is everything, ain't it so?

Love,

Rosy Smith

I found a pair of berry colored velvet shoes that I find really pretty everytime I brush by them when I'm at the train station and go into my happy place (aka the shoe store) to keep warm. They are on sale in that very store and I got all excited and contemplated to purchase them as a gift to myself after I finished my last exam, but I couldn't be that spontaneous and now, I miss the enthusiasm I had for these boots . You know, sleepless nights, telephoning around, sending family members outside in the pouring rain in order to get them onto my feet. So I ask myself, should I be looking for something that makes my heart ache that way instead of just buying them for the hell of it? Help a girl out here.

I just researched vitamin b6 which I'm obviously lacking 'cause my hair is like, gone (I'm not balding but it's still bad) and supposedly the symptoms of a shortage only show up after four to five years, so I'm mad at my past self for not consuming enough fish and avocado (I love avocado but they go rotten so easily) when I was 15.

So I was at this party saturday night where all the guys wore bows and were serious about playing a grand poker tournament and since I love every reason to wear a twirling dress that's exactly the kind of place I like to be. Some guests were doing inappropriate things in the kitchen, though - I had to look twice until I realized that that one couple was not only fondling each other but also another guy and gal who weren't each other. Um. I was hissing "Look at that! Are they doing what I think they're doing?" at my friend who really didn't want to look at that, because I was so freaked out by how no one else was freaking out - maybe it's a reoccuring situation among that crowd. A lot of orchestra musicians, and someone told me they were often playing each other's instruments, you know, so maybe I just got to see an open rehearsal.

Advice for guys: Play poker. It can look pretty hot, sitting back all concentrated and then shuffling the cards and leaning forward, throwing the chips onto the table and announcing stuff like "Check" in that matter-of-factly voice. Also, if you gift me a red rose while getting down on one knee, I will be likely to get very fond of you. I'll also be losing the game pretty fast (I had bad hands all the time! I swear!) but sit back smiling because well, I got given flowers that match my dress while the others might have gotten some plastic chips.


Even though the game stretched out until 6am (okay, so after about eight hours, it can get a bit boring to watch, no matter how hot a guy), everybody was still chipper when they left - the swinging couple (oh gosh I'm so blowing this out of proportion here) was practicing some interesting contemporary moves in the middle of the room, for instance. After everyone left, me and him sunk onto the couch and took in the situation. It was a balanced mess: Wine was spilled, chips (plastic and edible alike) were scattered everywhere, glasses and bottles in multiple states of emptiness were left on all horizontal surfaces, but at least no one puked or lost other body fluids in weird places, neither was anything broken. "That's what it should look like after a good bash", I told him. Of course, I wasn't the one of us who had to clean up the next day, but it was supposed to be a compliment, I swear.

Hope you had a fabulous party, too.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....for I don't know what they're doing. They means most of this generation, possibly, and therefore most of my acquaintances, definitely. I'm talking about romantic complications, of course. Except that I am very confused about how little people seem to care about the romance part of it all.

See, I'll admit that I come from a fairytale, Jane Austen reading, Katherine Heigl movie watching mindset without much grasp on reality whatsoever which has shown a lot in my dating history. However, even given the fact that not all love stories are forever and that not every crush is mutual, let's determine a certain concept here.

Certain Concept: You meet a guy. Let's say he's in your anatomy class, or in your brother's band (still not over that), or a friend of a friend you see at social gatherings. You think he's cute. You have a conversation. He asks for your number (or you ask for his, doesn't matter, I'm not that girl but equality and all that) and you text a bit and then he says that you should check out this bar together cause you said you like jazz music and there's a live band there tonight. That's a date. The intention of this is to find out if you like each other as a person of the opposite sex (or whatever sex you're into).

Having a couple of dates, you realize you really do and vice versa and you continue to go on dates but after a while you feel comfortable enough to also meet him after classes and whine about how you hate everyone and he gets you dinner and strokes your hair. Both of you are aware of the fact that you are NOT "friends", nor are you just two people who happen to meet in the Costco checkout line. You're star crossed lovers. Okay, dramatically phrased, but at least you're dating.

Because it doesn't make sense to 

a) genuinely like a person because they're funny and kind and make you feel great about yourself and eternity
b) genuinely find that person smokin' hot and melt into a puddle when they touch you
c) be liked back in the same way by that person
d) see them regularly once a week if not more often to do the aforementioned things as well as make out

and still not get that you essentially gotchaself a mate (it is biology after all! We're meant to get together with someone else to have someone to love and not to mechanically hop in and out of contact with people we don't even like) and that you two will naturally become a couple and hope, even if only for a month, to not change that status anytime (ever) soon.

Well, that's what I thought, but it turns out that this route is too mainstream for most people these days. I mean, that one could end up actually being happy (or get torn into a million pieces like some expensive glass vase, but no risk - no fun, I'd say). How old-fashioned. Better stay away from everyone I know and like and real life (so as to not lose "friends" - who needs friends if you can have sex, ain't it so?) and poke random people under the Tinder stone with a stick and have meaningless Messenger conversations for weeks before ever meeting them. Apart from the fact that I would be scared to death of meeting up with a stranger who has my full name, I'm pretty sure it's already wrong to not physically know the person you're looking to fall in love with. I mean, I know I'm superficial, but come on. It's always a bit about the looks for sure. And then, if one does find someone through these twisted ways (what happened to meeting people at bars? Is that too 90s?), nothing's clearing up. There's movies and hooking up and texting but it's forbidden to beam at your friends when you talk about him. Because that would be too tied up and anyways, this thing is already doomed. Why? Oh, no one really knows. And that's not coming from people who are really just looking for something to spend those long cold nights with but from people who would love to be loved at the moment.

A different setting: My friend has told me that she overheard a random guy telling someone that he'd really like to, um, get close (oh we all know what I mean) to this girl he knows, but the problem is, she's actually pretty cool so he would probably like her (my bad) and he really doesn't have time for anything like that at the moment.

I'm sorry, say that again?

Since when is true love such a splendored thing that one can afford to just shrug it off and kick it under your bed and maybe find it one day when you drop your remote and think "Oh, I could call her sometime, see if she spent the last ten years waiting around for me to get in the right mood"? Who would do that? And why for God's sake? 

I'm telling you, these guys are the reason girls go "I don't like him that much anyways". Because how do you know if he is acting date-y with actual dating intentions in mind, like I would assume, or if he's acting the same way but wakes up one morning thinking "Actually I just flicked through my calendar and I really don't have time for anything like that". That's why girls act like they don't care - so they can pretend not to care about him not caring, either, and be convincing doing so.

I don't know about you but I'm getting quite confused with my own argumentation here, and those are only the facts. God knows we all know it gets way more complicated in practice. The takeaway (is that an expression or just fast food?) from my deep analysis is that everyone should stop being so damn dramatic and just accept that human beings tend to fall in love with other human beings and that they simply won't find what they're looking for without admitting they like that person one day or another.


Now let me try to remember what I actually wanted to get across and check if I did; yeah, kind of. Oh well. And for everyone who realized they're acting that way, think about if your chosen one might have a different vision than you, and if that's the case, just get yourself together and tell him/her, so they can drop you like a hot potato and move on with their lives. People are busy, after all.

Love,

Rosy Smith

....One of my bestest friends said recently, while we were talking about the guy she likes, who seems to like her back but hasn't made plans to see her in a while, which leads to some confusion about if he likes her the way she likes him (a well-known confusion that always sets in whenever one doesn't see each other in a while); she said "See, you don't have to worry about that anymore, because you know." And well, she's right - I know because he told me so just two nights ago. And believe me, I'm as amazed by that incident as anyone should be, breaking into dazed expressions with stupid little grins several times a day, whenever the memory hits me and my brain is like woah, that happened. I'd also like to tell everyone including my church paper editing team (six 40-Somethings and a priest), but I don't because I don't want to be one of those people. So instead I tell my two ride or dies several times a day.

So, I'm over the moon and everything, but I think, regarding the worrying about his state of affection for me - I guess deep down I knew for a while now. I mean, I hoped as well, and I worried a little for the sake of it, but I still believed, judging from the way he is when I'm with him, and the things he tells me and the fact that he watched the new Bridget Jones movie with me, that there must be a reason that's sorta coming from that direction.

And please, ignore me if you like for I'm sliding a bit along the lines of those people now, but I feel that in a "thing between people" (not to say relationship, 'cause that sounds like I'm giving psychological advice and I would be annoyed with myself if I did that) it would be great if both of these people would make each other feel like they know. Not from the beginning, 'cause that would be creepy and honestly, who even knows anything themselves at that point, but you get it. Sometime.

Because the whole texting-game is so tiring and time-consuming and we all have much better things to do, such as painting our nails (something I never seem to get around to).

Love,

Rosy Smith

In relationships - define relaionship however you like at this point - there are lots of things not to worry about. See, the whole point of a relationship is that you won't need to worry about anything but the shaving status of your legs. However, there are so many rules in this world that don't work out the way they're supposed to that I simply can't help but remind you of the crucial matters that come with your first weekend trip away together.

Bathrooms. I'm that far gone with my habit of pretending that human needs do not exist and therefore needn't ever be mentioned that I'll just say the following: Use the foyer bathroom for everything except for showers and makeup applications. It's just more stressfree. You might not always be able to send your company to the balcony, because they might not want to go outside when it's 30 degrees and freezing. I know. Incosiderate of them, isn't it.

Your inexplainable problems with things most people don't have problems with. I for one experience such pure ickiness whenever I have to sleep in sheets that aren't mine. I always keep a special pillow with me that my head doesn't stray from all night long, just so it doesn't touch a piece of strange fabric. I catch colds from the AC 'cause I don't pull the covers up over my shoulders so they don't come near my face. And that's when I'm in those perfectly anonymous hotel sheets. When I'm in an apartment and the linnens are patterned, or crincly, or both - I'd rather not think about how uncomfortable those nights will be. I know they're all clean, I still find it revolting. Now I've told my company about that - he still got us an apartment and I'm praying for white linnens or I already see myself freezing without any cover at all, clutching that pillow I've had forever.

The check question lasts three days long. I rarely get out my purse fast enough to credibly assure him that I do want to pay for myself, but that doesn't have anything to do with me not really wanting it - I'm just not always listening to the waiter/waitress so I don't catch what's going on fast enough to yell "I'll take my share!" before he mutters softly (like a real gentleman who doesn't talk about money) "It's okay". Also, he always pays for both of us or just himself, but I never take it all on me 'cause I'm a bad person. That might be okay for a dinner or a movie, but I definitely won't be ripping him off for every breakfast, lunch, dinner, coffee, cocktail and museum. I need to work out a plan, like, letting him get dinner because that's romantic and share lunch and breakfast because no one needs that and take the drinks on me because "Thank you for dinner". Gosh, I know why no one likes to talk about that kind of thing: Not because it's obscene, but because it gives you a headache.

The food routine in general. Are we gonna go out for everything? Cause I would like that. There's something about imagining us sitting around a breakfast table full of food that makes me sick that is seriously disturbing to me. Homely scenes only appeal to me at nighttime. You know, sitting in front of the fireplace with a bottle of wine, watching a movie with a bottle of wine, the likes. Does he even eat all of the meals I need to have in order to survive/be satisfied? I know he's one of those admirable people who can wait for lunch until 3 pm when nothing comes up before that - I'm not. Except for when I'm really happy (strange but true). In conclusion, he better keep my spirits up!

His reaction to the absolutely ridiculous amount of stuff you turn up with. He might have thought I'm a pretty reasonable person, but that illusion is gonna be a fargone memory as soon as he sees the five pairs of shoes and the three kinds of jackets I am bringing for two nights away. Not to mention the content of my carry-on suitcase. I started off by laying out outfits on my bed and color coordinating skirts with cardigans and following all those packing advises and ended up throwing everything in that I saw in my closet and that looked like it could be worn under a coat. Which is a lot, if you ever wondered. Oh, well.

I bet there's something I didn't even think of yet. Please don't tell me - I'm relatively calm as of now, and that's irritating enough as it is. Until Sunday....

Love,

Rosy Smith