The Truth About Love

Funny how the heart can be deceiving, more than just a couple times. Why do we fall in love so easy even when it's not right? Where there is desire there's going to be a flame, where's there a flame someones gotta get burned. But just because it burns it doesn't mean you're gonna die. Gotta get up and try. -P!NK

It seems romantic relationships in the second half of your 30s are more complicated than they was before. Everyone has either been heartbroken, divorced, left for someone else, cheated on. Or all of the above. Sometimes I'll spend half a Saturday talking to my girlfriends, listening, reading tarot cards. Gawd, if I were a licensed therapist/psychic I could make so much money on the weekends.

Our hearts do deceive us. It's a famous quote: The heart wants what the heart wants. Often, we don't get what we desire so badly because what we want would be very very bad for us. Our friend the Universe has another plan.

We were home listening to Pink the other night, I'd been at her concert on Monday with my bestie. My guy dropped a ton a cash to make those great seats happen. (She was AMAZING) Not that he's rich. He's just very generous. This song comes on. He looks at me and says "This is your song". I'm like, how do you think I'm still here baby?

C'mon we're too old to keep playing games. To keep taking advantage of people. And my friends? They are worth so much more than what they put up with. Wondering where he is, what's he doing, who else is he talking to? Whose blonde hair was that in the bathroom?

I've been the perfect Stepford Wife in the past. Until I wasn't. "Just getting by" isn't a great option for any of us. Neither is crazy, mad love for most of us. Love isn't like it is in the movies. We have to try. If they won't try with you, if you're constantly insecure and unhappy, please - that train is going through a tunnel. That tunnel ends with going off a cliff. Save yourself.

Not saying I learned this all in one go but we're getting older, lovelies. My relationship isn't perfect. I had a different picture in my head of how I'd end up but it wasn't right for me.

The other night we took the dog to the beach and we were playing and laughing, decided to grab a bite on the waterfront and one of my guy's friends works there now. His old roomate. They were fun times, but crazy. Times that couldn't last. They were so happy to see each other again. Finally I interrupted and was like: Hi, it's Margaux, I used to stay at your place?...and he said my God, I didn't even recognize you. Your hairs so long and you're wearing sunglasses...and I said and...you never thought we'd still be together after all this time? And he laughed. Said: Not a chance.

Ladies, you owe me thousands of dollars in free therapy. All I have to say is pick the nice guy for once and you won't have to try half as hard, I promise. You'll still have to work for it, but you'll have a partner who makes you smile every time he walks through the door and when things get hard, you'll try to make them easier. Together. He always tells me he's so proud of me. That "WE" got this. We got this. :)

Sullivan out.

Melancholy and the Infinite Sadness of Being Happy

I feel sorry for millenials. All true forms of art seem to be dying off with our childhood heroes. And we're not kidding anyone, we came way before the millenials. Bowie, Prince, Michael Jackson *oh yah i totally went there* everyone who has ever written a book worth reading? Dead. Except Margaret Atwood and I have some suspicions that she's actually dead pretending to be alive, I met her (she's dead).  I was looking at books at a book store the other day. They had roughly drawn stick pictures in them. I'm like this make the New York Times? *she shakes her head* and remembers she has overdue library books.

I'm as much to blame as anyone else. Everyone is like, you're a writer? Yes. You have a book? Yes. Is it hidden in some secret file on my computer that I intent to leave a letter with the instructions on how to find it with Jay for when I die? Yes.

When I get upset, I don't say, I'm feeling conflicted. I need to take some time to figure out the most positive course of action. One that will enable me and those I care for to successfully navigate this situation and ensure the best possible outcome.

I send my best a friend a text that says "FML". While I truly love the eff word deeply, I'm not using my better words anymore.

You know what's a great word? Melancholy. 

On that note, I tolerate my MBA, with only one course left after this one, I don't care anymore. I'm struggling to figure out why I cared in the first place. All that time and money. Will those three little letters after my name change anything? NO. Life doesn't care if you are smarter than someone else. The jdubs discourage education which is why I went ALL THE WAY. What I learned was I was always this smart and now I've spent so much money just to prove it to other people, who let's be honest, don't give a fuck.

Charisma, courage, passion, those are what you should do an MBA in. I'm so bored with myself, I don't know how other people even put up with me. Like let me help you with your marketing strategy, throw me a math problem I can't solve or a business I can't turn around by working your assets and assessing your balance sheets. Boring.

Today, I am definitely supposed to be writing a paper. Instead? I lure my boyfriend/manfriend/lifepartner/husband whatever you want to call him to kensignton market so I can buy sage to burn all the negative energy out of our place and get new earrings. I really just wanted to go to Blackbird Baking and Courage my Love and all the places that stole all the best names.

Then we got Vietnamese food and we're running late. So I'm like just drop me off at the market (the other market) cause Ken would would be very upset if I didn't show on a Saturday. Dudes there alone. I'm like where's Robin? She couldn't work. I've offered 17 million times to work for free on the weekends. I jump behind the cash and start ringing people in and packaging flowers. Sweep the floors and take out the garbage. Yes, I love my marketing job. Yes, I'm somewhat important. You cannot however compete for working in a flower shop for minimum wage. I was so lucky I got to do that. Coming home and your whole place smells like beauty and hope.

Some guy was saying shit about our green roses which are actually my favorite and I wanted to punch him. That's your passion, charisma and courage. But the customer is always right. I have an MBA bud. These green ish roses are amazing and by the way, I know your girlfriend and in her culture those white ones mean death and she believes it. Have fun with buying those. :)

Life is more fun when it's fun. Bur damn tomorrow I gotta stop breathing in the flowers and write that paper. Finish line is in sight. Hey, I still remember how to use my words so I'm betting on that to get me through to the other side. My massage therapist is like why do you hate yourself so much? Your body doesn't like you. You'll probably come in here next time saying you're doing your PhD. NO EFFING WAY. Thanks for looking out for me though Craig. :)

PS. I get over this, I might do my PhD, (I'm so so so sorry Jay) cause I've always thought I'd be a great therapist. But definitely a long enough break is planned where I will be the best partner and dog mom and make up for this MBA mess. 

Sullivan out.