# 75 Complete: Do not log into Facebook for a week

Last Monday, October 24, I decided that I wasn’t making much progress on my Day Zero Bucket List. I chose a semi easy one to tackle: Do not log into Facebook for one week.

It was hard the first day; I have an app on my phone, and usually at work I click on it at least twice. However, as the week went on, I occupied my time with other things. Then, near the end, like today, I couldn’t wait to get back on Facebook! I’d say my feelings about being on Facebook went like an upside down bell curve, with “longing to get on Facebook” on the y axis and “time” on the x-axis.

While Facebook is a waste of time, it’s not like I didn’t waste my time elsewhere. I watched lots of Desperate Housewives. I drank.

Yet in between those time suckers, I did read the news, read a book, and picked up on writing for Hubpages, a site that allows users to earn money through advertisements for their literary work (once they get good enough, that is).

So I’ve gotta come up with a conclusion…I think I couldn’t live without Facebook. Yea, I survived, but it’s nice to see your friends at least virtually when you live so far away 🙂

Get me some traffic

I decided to try out HubPages. All I have to do is write articles/stories. If successful, the ads on the pages will pay me a share of the profit. However, I obviously need some traffic, so check out my story on my view of the quarter life crisis!

Gaga+the Machine

Sometimes I imagine myself leaping

Running and leaping

from a cliff that overlooks a beautiful blue ocean.

And as I am falling

my hair is intertwined and my face is relaxed

And some awesome song comes on.

“I’m as free as my hair…”-Gaga

or

“Happiness hit her like a train on a track…”-Florence

And I plunge into the water.

 

Now fuck off if you are going to hate on my choice of songs. Both songs are about escape…about being free from something repressive…I suppose we all must sacrifice something to gain something else…

Sacrifice current happiness for future happiness?

Sacrifice happiness for money?

Sacrifice love for a dream career…or vice versa?

Or say fuck it…listen to the psychic and get out of this country before 2011 ends…

Chapter 29: Chillin’ with my Homos

I’ve had some pretty exciting weekends.

Last weekend, a good friend of mine came out to me about his homosexuality in the same location another friend did so (Perkin’s Family Restaurant). There’s nothing more homoerotic than munching on a sausage as your friend tells you he likes dick as much as you do.

I knew he was gay since day 1. His mannerisms, expensive taste, and tendency to show an attraction toward males definitely gave him away. However, he was a conservative person, and I just figured he’d be like all of those Republican senators that saw the rainbow after years of forcing the Bible down their throats. In the process, they all ended up ruining marriages because they were afraid to admit what they knew their whole lives. Therefore, I was very proud of my friend Ian for admitting this to himself at age 24.

Later that evening, I was introduced to his lover who apparently had been his lover for the past two months.

“Jen, John [gay lover] and I are thinking of going to Detroit next weekend to try out the gay bars. I told him I think you would be fun to go with, do you want to go?” Ian asked.

“Sure, I’ll go,” I replied. I felt flattered; I must be either a) fun or b) a super fag hag. Plus, I realized Ian had never been to a gay club, and it might help to have some support.

So the big gay weekend rolled around, and I asked Ian if I could bring my friend Kyle, the one who admitted his bisexuality to me at Perkin’s as well. Ian agreed, and we met at the hotel in Detroit around 7 PM on Friday.

“We already at at a wings restaurant,” Ian informed me as we walked into our hotel room.

“Oh, yea, sorry I was running late after my environmental engineer interview [more on that later],” I apologized. “How about Kyle and I go grab something quick, then we’ll meet you back here?”

“What?” John exclaimed. “We want to hit all the gay bars tonight! We want to start now!”

I exchanged a “Jesus, these guys do not know how to party” look at Kyle, and then I looked at the clock. “It’s fucking 7:00,” I said dryly.

“Yea, but we came down here to go to all the gay bars, and we want to get started!” Ian squealed.

Jesus, I thought. It was very hard to believe that these guys actually went to party schools. I let out a sigh and decided it’s their big gay night, so Kyle and I will do as they say.

“Ok, well let’s start at a bar that has food so Kyle and I can eat. How many bars are on your list anyway?”  I asked.

“Four. My mom looked them up for me,” John replied. “Let’s start at this gay Irish pub place since they have food.”

Four. And we need to start at 7…why? Whatever. I awkwardly applied makeup while the boys sat in silence waiting for me to get ready.

That should have been a sign to me that the night was going to be super bizarre.

We took the hotel shuttle to the Irish pub, and Kyle and I ordered.

“Why are there all of these old people here?” John asked quizzically as Kyle and I met John and Ian at the table.

“Well, gee, I don’t know, maybe because it’s 8:00,” I replied sardonically.

That was probably the most exciting exchange we had at the gay Irish pub. John and Ian kept being extremely shy; Ian is naturally a shy person, but he shouldn’t be worried about Kyle, and especially not me or John.

After we ate, we meandered our way to Menjo’s. We grabbed a drink, played some bar games, but the conversation was still slow and awkward. It was almost like Ian was nervous to be around John, nervous to be around him in front of me, or just needing to be trashed in order to be social (usually the case).

Post bar games, Ian said “Let’s make our way to ICE.”

“It’s 9:00,” I replied. Dammit, do these people not know anything? ICE was apparently a huge big gay club with tons of big gay house music. But, it doesn’t matter whether the venue was gay or straight, the point was it was a club. Nobody goes to clubs before 11 PM, hell, before midnight. What on earth was wrong with these guys?

It was raining harder than earlier. John and Ian were leading the way, and while I knew they wanted to walk faster to get out of the rain, Kyle and I had trouble keeping up.

“Hey wait up!” I called. No response. “Slow down!” I said again.

Kyle tried. “Please slow down!”

We cried our pleas to no avail. The distance between us kept getting bigger and bigger until we couldn’t see Ian and John anymore.

“What the fuck?” I exclaimed to Kyle.

“I don’t know! They ignored us and ditched us!”

“Obviously. Let’s just get in a fucking bar and avoid the rain. We are not going to that damn night club before 11 at least, I refuse.”

We ended up finding a shady townie bar with a $5 cover to hear a shitty band. Whatever, that was the only bar in sight at the moment. While Kyle and I drank our $3 rail drinks, Ian texted us repeatedly. “Keep walking” said one text and “Where the hell are you?” said another.

“Kyle look at this,” I said as I shoved my phone in his face.” “Why is he acting like he cares where we are when he obviously ditched us? We are not fools, and we are definitely not the awkward people that go dancing at 9 PM.”

We finally gave in around 10:45 and walked to ICE. Ironically, ICE was only one block from where we were. ICE was nice; very great ambience, trees, a lounge area, and a great dance floor.

“Where the hell were you?!” Ian exclaimed through a high-pitched voice. This tone of voice signaled to me that he was pretty drunk.

“Where the hell was I? You guys fucking left us!” I shot back. I really wasn’t mad, promise. I just don’t like when people accuse me of doing wrong when indeed I did nothing of the sort!

We all talked (awkwardly of course, seemed to be the theme of the night) over a first drink.

“Ok, Kyle and I finished our drinks, do you guys want to come dance with us?” I asked Ian and John.

“I don’t dance,” John said point blank.

You don’t dance? At a big fucking gay club you don’t dance? Why the hell did you come?

Kyle and I danced together instead. Eventually, we met up with one of his friends from Detroit, and he danced with us. Then, we noticed this girl with a shaved head dancing by herself. She was really awesome, very good for a white girl. We danced closer to her so she could join our circle of friends.

After an exhausting round of dancing, Kyle and I went to sit in the lounge. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw John and Ian leaving! No goodbye, no wave, just straight sneaky swift-walking out the door!

“Look, they even left our coats on the ground!” Kyle exclaimed as he ran over to the bar and retrieved our garments.

“What a bunch of assholes,” I muttered. “Although you know, they probably left so they could go and fuck.”

And fuck they did. By the time we got home, I was wondering if we should give a warning text. I chose not to. As Kyle and I opened the door circa 2 AM, we heard this sudden shuffling, blankets moving, and voices whispering.

We’re not dumb, I thought. But your sex game is up as of now.

After a restless sleep, I woke up around 9 to take a shower. I got out to see only Kyle.

“They went to breakfast,” Kyle said. “Again, ditching us.”

Shortly, the shady duo returned. After another awkward hello, with no mention of the stealthiness that ensued the previous night, Ian and John were suddenly ready with their bags.

“You’re leaving now?” I asked glancing at the clock. 9:45 AM.

“Yea, you guys can check out for us. See ya,” Ian said as if nothing happened.

When the door shut, Kyle and I stared at each other with dumbfounded expressions.

“What?!” we exclaimed. “What just happened?”

“I’ll tell you,” I started. “The bottom line was that they were all into each other and not us. Understandable, but why the hell would you invite me out? I’m so glad I dragged you along Kyle!”

True story.

****

Meanwhile, I am not sure if I’ve told you of the brown man from work. He is probably the only brown (and by brown I mean Middle Eastern or Indian) man in this dinkball town, and I am pretty much obsessed with brown men. I had heard of his name via e-mails, management schedules, and just general talk. He works at the pulp mill, so when I made my first visit over there and saw a 40-year-old balding brown man, you can bet that was Ahmed.

After that, I would see him at the YMCA. He seemed pretty friendly…in fact, a little too friendly sometimes. Here’s a sneak peak:

“So I haven’t seen you here in awhile,” Ahmed said with a smile while I was doing my leg curls.

“Oh, well I’m usually lazy, but I am making myself get back into working out,” I replied.

“So what do you do besides work out at the Y?”

“Um, well, when it’s cold, and it usually is here, I go skiing…cross country and downhill…” I rambled.

“Really? You know Don Faux from work?” he asked. I nodded. “Well, he and I are going to Vail in a week, it should be fun.”

“Wow, I’ve never been, but I don’t think I am ready for a place like Vail.”

He laughed. “Oh, I’m a beginner as well, but I’ll take lessons. Besides, it’s better snow than it is out here.” He continued, “So what else do you do around here? Do you like to ride bikes?”

“Well, I have a pretty shitty bike I bought off this teenage kid, but yea, I like to ride it when it’s warm outside,” I jokingly said.

As Ahmed started to walk away, he said, “Well, maybe we could go for a ride sometime.”

What? A ride on the bike or you?

So I started to get the feeling he was hitting on me every time I went to the gym. That was until the next encounter a few weeks later.

“Hey I haven’t seen you in awhile,” I said the usual statement.

“Yea I was in Vail, remember?”

“Oh that was last week! So it was just you and Don?” I asked.

“Yea we…” after that I stopped. Just Ahmed and Don. What fucking 40-year-old men just go to an expensive ski resort by themselves…as far as I could tell about Don, he was pretty liberal, drove a crotch rocket, and had a bowl cut. Could it be…? Could they really be gay?

Chapter 28: Break-ups Call for Meditation

Well this weekend was uneventful…considering I’d broken it off with Aiden finally.

We were beginning to sound like that Jersey Shore couple Sammi and Ronnie…with me behaving like Ronnie but with an intelligence level higher than an 8th grader.

Anyway, in case you haven’t seen that lovely Jersey Shore show that pretty accurately depicts my home state, Sammi always makes up things to be mad at Ron about when deep down it’s all about her being jealous and paranoid about him cheating.

So, remember when Aiden saw me “dance” with that guy in Chicago? And by dance, I mean my head making hard contact with his buck teeth while I was swaying to the Abyssinian. Yea, he got jealous over that. Like I was really making a romantic connection doing that ridiculous dance…

The whole way back to Michigan after that incident, we didn’t speak. Any time I attempted to speak, he criticized me, so I just thought, fuck it, I just won’t talk to him at all.

So I never called. I ignored him. Until about a week later he called me.

“Where have you been?” he asked harshly.

“Well, I didn’t feel like being around someone as immature as you.”

“What the fuck does that mean? You haven’t called at all!” he yelled.

“Aiden, you were acting like such a child that weekend in Chicago. Anything I said or did after that one harmless and quite frankly idiotic dance sent you into fits of anger,” I blurted quickly and rudely as possible.

He said nothing.

“Look, I have nothing else to say except you are a great guy, but way too serious for me right now. I’m sorry.”

I then hung up and went to my first meditation class in Michigan.

I really suck at meditating. I’ve only tried it twice before, once in a Buddhist temple and another time by myself. My thoughts come and go every second and it’s really hard to control them. There are many ideas on how to control them. Some say you must completely clear your head of anything, which is extremely hard. Our instructor today gave us several tips that avoided completely clearing your head listed below:

1) One breath in, one breath out. Repeat but increase the number of breaths until you get to 4 in and 4 out, and then start over. (This worked for the first 10 minutes)

2) Breath in and think of love, breathe out and think of peace. (Worked for 5 minutes)

3) When you think of a thought, acknowledge it, and then push it away. (I found this the most effective. I can’t help that thoughts are coming in and out all the time, but the point of this method is that it is okay that they do. Overtime, I can supposedly experience a longer time in between thoughts).

During my meditation, the instructor also told us to acknowledge whether most of our thoughts were from past, present or future. I thought they would be future-based thoughts, since I have always tried to plan ahead. Lately, I have not really been thinking much of my future (since at this point I have little control over it), so I guess it shouldn’t have surprised me that most of my thoughts were from my past.

Past thoughts…sometimes they were experiences I missed, sometimes they were ones that pained me to think about…sometimes they were examinations of my timeline so far on this earth, and sometimes they were queries into the “what ifs” in life…you know, the “what if” you hadn’t said that would you still be friends with her? “What if” you hadn’t done that, would you be broken up now? “What if” you would’ve worked that job would you be in a better position right now for your dream career?

Then the meditation music ended.

Chapter 27: Meet the Abysinnian

“What’s wrong? You seem out in la-la land,” Aiden asked me while stroking his hand through my hair.

“What? Nothing,” I replied. “You’re getting paranoid over my obsession with my quarter-life crisis.”

“Well, it is quite worrisome. You should have learned more from those Europeans when you went over there…take life a little slower, ya know?”

We had just gotten done having sex, and this wasn’t my idea of fun after-sex-chat. But he was right; although I thought I was a good actress, he could see right through me. An hour ago I had scoured facebook pages of friends whose lives I envied. In addition, I ordered all 3 books supposedly dedicated to aiding my quarter life crisis (see previous chapter).

“I know Aiden. God, I’m sorry. I guess I always want something more than I have all the time. You’ve heard of the expression ‘It’s always greener on the other side’?”

“Yes, but we have to wean you off of that thinking. Let’s do something fun,” Aiden suggested.

“Isn’t working at a paper mill fun enough?” I asked dryly.

“No, let’s make the long trek to Chicago. You have friends there, right? Would you mind if I came?”

I paused. I guess it’s been awhile. I guess he can come.

“Jen…? Don’t go into la-la land again!”

“Ok, let’s go this weekend,” I replied.

I called up the friends I knew from there: Krosten, a fellow Jersey girl I met at Rutgers, Amelia, a friend from high school, and Anita, a former boss. We left after work on Friday evening and didn’t make it to Krosten’s until late into the evening. Hence, the fun did not begin until the next day.

We did some hippie Chicago things one couldn’t do in BFE Michigan: eat at an organic breakfast place, take photos of Lakeview, and watch an independent film. Aiden seemed to be getting along with Krosten, but that’s because Krosten is pretty easy to get along with. The next step was to meet Amelia.

“Now, I think Amelia has changed a lot since high school…she went to a really preppy college and is obsessed with fashion and hating on other girls,” I explained to Aiden before we got to Amelia’s address.

“Well, I’m not a girl now am I? Besides, Krosten was very entertaining!”

“Well, Krosten is meeting up with us later tonight, so you can have more of that,” I replied.

Amelia behaved. She showed us her $750/mo studio apartment. It was bigger than I thought, but I think the smell (a heavy acetoney smell) killed me. It actually made me happy that I wasn’t a nursing student living in Chicago with no income but instead a paper engineer living in BFE with mucho dinero.

After getting pretty trashed on several martinis, Amelia, Aiden, and I ventured to another part of town to go to Pastor Buck’s, a pretty awesome bar with no cover. After Amelia left, Krosten and I started drinking a lot and therefore dancing a lot more.

“Come dance with us!” I beckoned Aiden.

“Oh, you’re dancing? I thought you were having a seizure,” he apparently joked.

“I have fucking epilepsy you asshole!” I said with a scowl and a twist on my heel as I returned to dance with Krosten.

I wasn’t really that mad, but I think I just was drunk and wanted to piss off Aiden. So Krosten and I started doing a dance that I learned when I was around 8 years old: The Abyssinian. The Abyssinian takes skill. How do I describe it…ok, so you start kind of bowlegged, then invert your knees together at the same time, then outward at the same time. There you go. Then, while you get the rhythm with your legs…oh fuck it watch the vid below…

Then, as I was performing the Abyssinian with Krosten, Krosten proceeded to get a little too close to this guy who was a little too close to me…and then his teeth collided with my head. GOD! Don’t you hate that when you are dancing at a club or in this case a casual bar and you just so awkwardly collide with the guy? No wonder Aiden said I couldn’t dance…

Speaking of Aiden, I had lost sight of him. I thought he had left, until I saw him sitting alone at the bar.

“Hey! What’s wrong!?” I asked, putting my hand around him. He swatted it away.

“What the hell? I was just having fun!” I said. “Obviously, you’ve never done the Abyssinian before!”

“Jen, it’s not your idiotic dancing ‘skills’, it’s you using them with other men.”

And that was the beginning of jealous Aiden!

Chapter 26: You ain’t that baaaaaaaaad

Things with Aiden have not been so hot.

After out last conversation that involved him crying over our barely breathing relationship, I started to ignore him a bit. I also began to ponder my  life and ridiculously stalk people on Facebook to see if their lives were better.

Eileen: a person from school, who I recently met up with over the holiday! She is taking a year off from school, and she told me she was burnt out. Understandable. But she also told me she couldn’t get an actual job in economics. Conclusion from Eileen: Ok, maybe having your boring job isn’t so bad!

Braydon: Ok, probably like the millionth fucking person from my hometown to move to NYC. I mean, I suppose I’ve lived in that tri-state area forever, but to live in NYC is different than Jersey. You are actually there in the action. Now this Braydon moved up there for a job in PR or something, but all I know is I hate his fucking pictures of New York Nightlife and awesome food and friends. Jealous.

Emilia: Well, I should seriously filter this girl from my news feed. She is the EPITOME of perfect. Ok, so we used to call her alien girl in college, because she had really dark eyes that had to be out of this world. Really, we called her that because we were jealous of her. She was double majoring in mechanical and aerospace engineering and never got anything less than straight A’s. She was a Goldwater and Truman Scholar, studied and researched abroad in Turkey and China, and she also beat me in this Miss Rutgers competition.

BUT during the Miss Rutgers competition, I got to know her, and she was really nice. Very friendly, very hard not to like. So that made it worse. Oh, did I mention she is absolutely gorgeous? Seriously!

So I have always thought, damn, this girl has it all: the brains, the looks, the personality. But wait! She doesn’t have love in her life! That girl is too busy and driven for boyfriends! So at least she doesn’t have it all…until I looked on Facebook 10 minutes ago. God dammit.

That last cut was the deepest! So I would say Erica= 0 Life=2

Aiden caught me on Facebook doing this. He asked me what you guys are all thinking: why do you need to compare yourself to these people? You will only be happy in life if you are content with what you have and not what others have. Hmm, I thought. Yea, I actually do like this podunk town; I mean, I like my friends. I like finding new adventures here. I like roaming around and becoming more of an outdoors woman.

I do believe everything I wrote in the last paragraph; everything is greener on the other side, isn’t it? I think I’m making some progress. I mean, I used to constantly think about what my future should be, and now that I am stuck at a paper mill, I take life every day slowly and with a grain of salt. Although I hate the fact that my FB friends are at MIT, NYC, San Francisco, Bolivia, and for Christ’s sake Eastern Europe! Ok, I’m relapsing…I’m content with life…

***

“Aiden, let’s watch Jersey Shore,” I said after Aiden and I discussed my FB stalking obsession.

After the hour passed, drama, fights, and nakedness ensued.

“Ok, Aiden, after watching this, my life is awesome!”

***

PSS: I know this is a completely rambling post, but to follow up with this blog, please see the link below to help YOU in your quarter-life crisis!

http://www.npr.org/2010/12/29/132214529/three-books-to-quell-your-quarter-life-crisis

Chapter 25: Is There a “Type”?

When she opened the door, I knew something was wrong.

“Hold on, I need to talk on the phone,” Loretta replied.

I learned that evening that she and her boyfriend broke up. He had slipped and cheated on her, and although he was sorry and deeply regretted what he did, Loretta just wanted to end it.

Weeks passed since then, and she received a long letter from her ex. We’ll call him “Miguelito”.

Miguelito wrote that he was sorry, and he wished he could take back the past. He really liked Loretta, and he really had felt that she was the best girl he could find. She had everything he wanted in a girlfriend: intelligence, compassion, and a good laugh. He couldn’t help but wonder “what if”…”what if” they were to get back together…”what if” they were “the ones” for each other…

I thought about it, and below is the synopsis of my advice for Loretta.

It’s flattering Miguelito thinks of you as one of the best females on the planet.

But just because he thinks you are an awesome female and he is an awesome male does not necessarily mean that you two awesome people are meant to be together!

So he thinks he belongs with you because you possess every quality he desires in a girlfriend? Well to him, good luck finding another Loretta! You need to tell him to quit thinking of this “type” of girlfriend he wants. Same to you, too, Loretta.

How can anyone possibly have a type of male or female she/he is interested in? I know what I’m not interested in: overly-muscular men, tool bags, and extremely quiet men. If I lived by this “type” rule, I would say, okay, I need someone that likes traveling, cats (not dogs), hiking, environmental issues, and politics. But if I limited my search to a Birkenstock-wearing hippie who enjoyed traveling to Spain and in his spare time petting his Siamese cat while watching Keith Olbermann, then I would be Shit Out of Luck.

I only have met ONE couple in my entire life that seem to have found each other in a different body. They like the exact same things and get along great, obviously. But Loretta, that is a rare occurrence, and Miguelito needs to realize that as well. What matters is you avoid the shit you don’t like, you find someone you do like, and if it feels right…you’ll know.

Chapter 24: What an interesting night…

I took my 68-year-old neighbor out to our other neighbor’s restaurant, the Boring Street Cafe. Our other neighbor is this 26-year-old hottie. Why is he so hot? Well, he physically is attractive, but also, he is gay. That means he has way better style than you will ever have, he will have way better manners, way better sense of humor, will talk your ear off…or maybe I’m just a fag hag and lovvvvvvvvve men I absolutely cannot have.

Anyway, I thought I talked a lot. Ya’ll need to meet my two neighbors. I feel like all I nee to do is nod and sip and the night goes on. Jesus, they are talkers!

So Jared my beautiful neighbor fixes me 3 surprise drinks that are amazing: Whipped Russian, something else, and a 3 Olives Circus drink. PSS: he showed me naked male pictures. Then old lady neighbor meets this guy from the pulp mill that graduated with her son. That was awkward; her son has issues and for all I know, her entire family has distanced from each other for awhile…

So I paid for old lady’s dinner as a Christmas present to her; I felt like she needed it; no contact with kids for 5-10 years, husband has been dead for so long, and basically Jared and I are her good friends.

To all, be good Samaritans and pay attention to your old lady neighbors.

Merry Christmas, you guys!

Chapter 23: Shit Hits the Fan at Solid Poop

This is a mainly true post

Damn, this weather is getting ridiculous!!! We just had a blizzard this weekend. I had to go out and volunteer last night, and the roads were shitty! I thought the states near Canada were supposed to be better on cleaning the roads; apparently not. The worst part, honestly, was the parking lot of my apartment complex! The contracted snowplow men basically just plowed once during the storm. I understand it’s a storm, but I had to volunteer, and please, this is a mill town. People work 24/7!

Management excluded from working weekends, I suppose. I had the pleasure of meeting management from another local mill. The HR at the Solid Poop (as I like to call it) Mill had a Christmas party with us entry-level engineers and our mentors/HR personnel.

I thought it was going to be gayyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy. Turns out, there was a shit ton of alcohol, and the wife of the mill manager was an alcoholic. She turned out to be a hoot. And what was even better was that Hot Boss #1 was there! But the Debbie Downer was that his wife was the HR lady from Solid Poop and therefore showed up with Hot Boss. Boo.

Even though the deal with Hot Boss will never come to fruition, I behaved like an 8th grader and avoided talking to him until the end of the night. But that involved help from several friends and centering the conversation on Ken the retarded co-op.

But that day wasn’t all smiles…that day, our mill manager called us to the conference room for an emergency meeting.

Corporate announced the closure of 1 out of the 4 mills in the area, Whistle.

Everyone was shocked. I knew a few people there, but that was a few out of 340 people that would lose their jobs come February. This information plus the fact that I am not all that excited about paper caused me to seriously put Linked In into overdrive.

However, our company has us by the balls; we cannot leave before a year, since we entry-level engineers signed a contract that stated all of our money paid to us in the form of bonuses/moving expenses would have to be repaid to the company. So basically, I would owe approximately $10-14,000.

FUCK THAT.

Anyway, I told Aiden about it, and he started tearing up. WTF? I thought.

“What’s wrong?” I asked as we were sitting on my couch watching my new favorite show Outsourced.

“Well, I really like you. I mean, I’ve only been seeing you for a little bit, but I really would like to see where this would go.”

“We can still do that silly, but no need to get upset! And if it doesn’t work out, at least we are in our early 20s,” I replied nonchalantly.

He looked at me as if I told a five-year-old Santa wasn’t real.

“What now?!” I exclaimed, rolling my eyes.

“You don’t care at all if you just leave Michigan forever?”

“No.”

“So you don’t care about me at all then? Is that what I am getting?”

“No, no, that’s not what I am saying! Geez, I thought I was the girl here…Ok, that sounded bad. Ok, what I mean is, I have only officially had sex with you once, only been on two dates with you, and you are currently bawling. I’m trying to be realistic here, that’s all. Remember, I am an engineer, and like you, I thought we’d think logically,” I reasoned as calmly as I could.

He paused. He seemed to be thinking something.

“Maybe I can follow you,” was the magical solution he came up with.

Fuck. Just cry me a river.