In A Relationship

First and foremost, one of my friends sent me this link about a woman in Taiwan who is marrying herself: http://www.jezebel.com/5670807/
And while it made me really happy to know that someone else has taken MonogaME to the next level, not gonna lie it also made me a little ansty. It’s been seven months—where is this relationship going? I mean, I’m not even in a relationship on Facebook! When I brought this up with myself (perhaps a little more harshly than I had intended) I realized I am still a little young to be married. But perhaps it was time to put myself in a relationship on Facebook.

As I had previously discovered, Facebook doesn’t allow you to put yourself in a relationship with yourself so right now it just says “In a Relationship” (hey everyone who clicked on the link below my status who I haven’t spoken to in years but now suddenly cares because I might actually be getting some—GOTCHA!) But that’s ok. I like the air of mystery, it’s like a little secret between me and myself. UGH WE’RE SO CUTE!

On an unrelated note, Halloween is coming up! I’m especially excited this year to have the opportunity to have my first couples Halloween costume. To get a jump start on ideas I looked at the google suggestions for hot 2010 couple costumes. Well. Let’s just say I was less than enthused. Snookie and the Situation? Avatars whose names I can’t remember because I fell asleep once I realized they weren’t going to sing “Colors of the Wind” like they did when it was called Pocahontas? I don’t think so.

I thought about wearing a larger blazer and a headband with a bow on it and being Chuck and Blair from “Gossip Girl.” I also considered dressing up as Sarah Palin and then being Sarah Palin and Tina Fey. Finally, I settled on buying a dinner jacket, a Havard tie and a lifetime supply of hair gel and I’m going to be BOTH of the Winklevoss twins from “The Social Network.” Snookie and The Situation THAT.

No I’m totally kidding, I’m going to be Ke$ha (I do have my own identity outside my relationship, you know). But I do think the twins would be funny. Someone with an adequately strong jaw line please do that and take pictures.

Lastly, I just wanted to acknowledge the great feedback I’ve been getting from a bunch of you — I really appreciate it. There is one group that’s really going above and beyond, though so I wanted to take a special moment to shout out to single guys everywhere and share the conversation I’ve had with…just about all of them… in the past few weeks:

SINGLE GUYS: Hey! Your blog’s hilarious!
ME: Thanks so much!
SINGLE GUYS: It’s pretty clear you really need a boyfriend, though.
ME: Yeah, maybe. You interested?
SINGLE GUYS: HELLLLLL No. I was just saying.

So, that’s really encouraging. Thanks, single guys everywhere, for your dedication to making sure this blog continues long into the future.

*:*-) ← that’s me as ke$ha with the crazy make up on my eye.

She’s Got to Love Nobody

I’ve decided that it’s time to share a personal fantasy of mine with you all. I think we’re at that point in our writer/reader relationship. Let me just preface this with saying that I realize this is shooting for the stars and that I would absolutely accept applications for boyfriendhood (if I were not happily dating myself. which I am. So there.) from boys who are not capable of what you are about to read.

I have always had this fantasy of dating someone with whom I could break into spontaneous, beautiful song, while one of us accompanies us on the piano (I don’t really care who, but I mean, bonus points if the guy can play) … and we harmonize and laugh and sing and it’s just…magic.

I thought for a moment I had hit an impasse, I had reached the point in dating myself yet again where this was just something, like the popcorn line, that I just couldn’t do alone. But then I watched this week’s Glee.

Kurt wanted to sing a duet with the new guy but everyone told him that the rest of the school would think said new guy was gay if he sang with Kurt and it would ruin all of their reputations…even more… so Kurt decides he is going to sing a duet with himself. He even makes a great speech about how “when you’re different, when you’re special, sometimes you have to get used to being alone” (What? NOoo I did not use my three free months of DVR to rewind 18 times and copy that line word for word because I knew I’d need to repeat it to myself on a daily basis I mean What? Nope.)

Well, I thought, if Kurt can do it I certainly can, too. So I put on my favorite dress(es…I forgot to mention in my real fantasy we’re in an outrageously fancy 1940′s club…and in the 1940′s… but I figured my prom dress and my living room would do be close enough), fired up garageband and BAM. For the record, that IS me playing and singing and singing. I’m telling you this because if a girl accompanies a duet with herself and then films it in parts with iMovie, it might be hard to tell that it happened.

:O O: <– (that's me singing…to myself…who's singing back…)

Date Night and Things I Don’t Have To Worry About

I had to cancel two date nights this weekend because I was asked to be a part of some cool events on Friday and Saturday. And all I could think as I ran around like a mad woman both days, completely neglecting my previous plans with myself, was how great it is that I can change plans at a moments notice and don’t ever have to pass up good career building opportunities because I promised I’d sit on the couch and watch House all weekend. So often power couples like myself find themselves in jams where they must choose between their career and their significant(ly holding them back from achieving their dreams) other. This is not a problem in my relationship. By putting my career first, I am putting myself first because if I’m rich and famous, then, well… so am I. To paraphrase Lady Gaga, “Your career won’t wake up one morning and tell you it doesn’t love you.” And neither will …yourself. Yeah.

All of this mean that Sunday became date night this week,. Ingenious! I thought. Who’d be out on a Sunday night? Well, it’s Columbus Day Weekend so… everybody. But that was ok, I had my free movie ticket thanks to my Regal Crown Club Card (that thing is dynamite. Seriously, get one) and it’s not like I needed to be able to get two seats. The downside to taking myself to the movies presented itself immediately, though: You can’t divide and conquer when it comes to the popcorn lines with only one person. That said, none of the couples in front of me seemed to have figured out their unfair advantage in this situation as none of them were splitting up to see who got to the front of the line first. If being in a relationship with another person means this kind of lack of tactical planning, I want no part of it.

While I was waiting for the movie to start, I got a series of frantic texts from one of my friends. She was complaining about how this guy she’s been dating for a few months was giving her a hard time because they had had dinner with his parents last week but he still hadn’t met any of her friends and he was getting suspicious that there was someone else and blah blah blah. All this got me thinking about how I don’t have to deal with any of that, either. I already know my parents. And my friends. I don’t have to worry about cheating or being cheated on, or that there’s someone else that I don’t know about.

Ok well wait I need to amend that. I don’t have to worry about cheating or being cheated on behind my back. I will admit I have cheated on myself a few times…but it’s not like it was a secret from myself. Plus I still haven’t figured out how to put myself in a relationship with myself on Facebook so it’s not even really technically official yet. But I’m working on it. For serious, though, if you know how to do that, can you comment on this or email me? Cause it’s making me nervous and a little jealous every time I see my relationship status is single…

888
888 * <–those are the two popcorn lines, all the couples and me. notice how i'm a star. that's on purpose.

P.S. I have a twitter (http://www.twitter.com/heylyssamay) folllow me and I’ll start actually updating it with funny things.

I Just Wanna Hold My Hand

I’ve noticed since I started this blog that I’ve been walking down the street with my hands clasped in front of me. I realize to the rest of the world it looks like I’m praying (though I guess in a way I am worshipping…worshipping myself. HEYO) but really, I think it’s my own subconscious way of letting the world know I’m taken, while also saving everyone else sidewalk space. You’re welcome.

As I walked down Broadway, hand in hand…with myself…I was composing this post in my head and I started laughing. And then I realized I was making myself laugh (just further proof of how right I really am for myself) and that just made me laugh even harder. So obviously people were staring at the crazy girl, skipping down the street, hands clasped in prayer, laughing out loud at (as far as they could tell) nothing. And it bothered me for a split second. But then I remembered all of the times I walked down the street literally sobbing because of something some guy or other did to me. (Yes, I actually have done this and YES you should be laughing hysterically at the image of me walking down the street crying. If it’s not funny yet, imagine that “White Horse” by Taylor Swift is playing on my iPod while I walk and cry. Yeahhh now it’s really funny.

The point is, people stared when I was crying and I didn’t care, why should I care now just because I’m laughing? And holding my own hand? Oh I also might have been wearing a headband with a bow on it. That’s also always kind of funny. Actually. Maybe that’s what they were staring at…

8(:-D <- that's me wearing a headband with a bow, laughing. I couldn't figure out how to make hands holding themselves.

Sick Day

When I woke up today, I started to feel that tickling in the back of my throat that quickly escalated into the inability to breathe through my nose and a flu-like delirium. “Oh!” A single girl might have thought. “If only I had a boyfriend to bring me some soup and make me better.” If I did have a boyfriend, I’m sure he would have put his raincoat on, gone to Whole Foods and then trudged all the way to my apartment with a container full of ultra-organic chicken noodle soup. To which I, as the good girlfriend I’d be, would say “Aww that is so sweet!” and hide my disgust at the store bought, sodium-rich swill I was being presented with and then subsequently forced to eat when what I really wanted was some homemade French peasant soup with Gruyere cheese and a diet coke. Which I realize might be asking a lot from another person. Not from myself!

So I rolled out of bed and scuffled into the kitchen in my underwear. Another plus of dating yourself—you get to the “being comfortable walking around in your underwear” part way faster. I just happened to have zucchinis and carrots and onions in my fridge so I got right to finely grating and sautéing them. There is something so peaceful about being in a kitchen with a simple recipe. You can just enjoy the smells, the heat of the stove, the sizzling of the oil when the onion hits the pan and dance around to Ke$ha with no one there to tell you, “That’s not real music.” Then while I waited for my low sodium chicken broth to boil, I played doctor.

No literally. I took every pill out of my well-stocked medicine cabinet and indulged my inner neurosis comparing all of the ingredients of the different cold, sinus, allergy and pain killers to see how many of each I could take in what combination to get better quickly without killing myself. (I came up with some cocktail of homeopathic sinus meds, Tylenol Cold and Sinus and Sudafed but between you and me I’m kind of relieved I’m still alive so far). When my soup had come to a boil, I ladled some into the bowl where I had already grated a healthy mountain of Gruyere and sat on my couch.

It was so good. Oh my god this soup was so good. And while that was 99.9% due to the massive amount of cheese in it, it was .1% because I made it for myself. There was low-sodium, noodle-free, not even remotely organic love in that bowl right there. And I could taste it. I thanked myself profusely and promised I’d be more fun tomorrow (a total lie, I’ll probably sleep through class and then pretend to write a paper). And then I crawled back into bed with a box of tissues and my sock monkey, turned off my light and didn’t fall asleep because I had taken Tylenol Cold and Sinus Day Time. Maybe you do need two people to play doctor. I’ll call one in the morning.

~()) <– that's my steaming hot bowl of soup. yummmm.

The Best First Date

I started dating myself last March. It was a dark, way too cold for March night and I had nothing to do. My roommate and her boyfriend were out on the town and the other two people I knew had plans involving Absolute Brooklyn and then actual Brooklyn and I’m not a huge fan of either. So there I sat, alone in my apartment wishing I had a boyfriend so I would always having something to do on Friday nights—-someone to go ice skating and drink hot chocolate with. But as I sat there in my kitchen it hit me—- I live in a world where women don’t need husbands or boyfriends or even sex to have children anymore, where one no longer needs a member of the opposite sex to get married anymore, why did I need a boyfriend to go ice skating and drink some fucking hot chocolate?

I’m not exaggerating when I say that it was the best first date of my life. I carried my skates for myself, and because I used to be a competitive figure skater, I didn’t hold myself back by having to pretend that holding the railing and falling every ten seconds was cute rather than just a personal failing.  There was no one there who wanted a sip of the hot chocolate I bought myself and upon reaching my front door I didn’t have to have the “We just met and I’m still getting those HPV shots so I can’t invite you upstairs to take my virginity” talk in front of my doorman (again). The best part was I wasn’t compelled to obsessively check my phone 18 times an hour the next day to see if there was a text from someone who wasn’t my mom. It was already pretty clear—- I was that into myself.

And now seventh months later, here I am. I never really had the “exclusivity” talk with myself but I’d say I’m in the most literally monogamous relationship a person can be in. And it’s great. There’s lots of eating grapes and watching 30 Rock reruns, serenading myself with Justin Bieber songs on my guitar, the simple things. And since I signed up for a Regal Crown Club card, I can also often take myself to the movies for free! I’m the best.

Follow me here on (subscribe!) MonogaME for the unfolding stories of my mono-amorous life as I continue to pursue my relationship with myself. And hopefully get a bookdeal in the process.

*<};-)   <– that’s a winking smiley face in a party hat. think about it