Ok. Time to get it together.

I went running four days this week.

(If by running you mean occasionally sprinting, then walking for ten minutes, then sprinting for about thirty seconds again, then realizing I am TOTALLY out of shape and NOT actually capable of running and starting to walk again, then shuffling along like an eighty year old woman while I try to catch my breath, then sprinting again, then walking, then sprinting, then sitting on the curb for fifteen minutes dry heaving until I eventually gather up the strength to crawl back to my apartment. THAT kind of running. So basically alternately running and wanting to DIE.)

I’m not sure what motivated me.

Oh, wait, maybe it’s the fact that Seth has a date with fricking Chelsea again tonight.

I cried into my pillow last night, realizing that it’s never gonna happen.  Then I realized how pathetic I was being, and said, you know what?


You are 23 years old.  Do NOT going to waste the rest of your life pining over him. You are going to STOP spending all your time with him.  Get yourself back in fighting shape, focus on what’s good in your life, start killing it at work again, find your passion, meet new people, yada yada yada.  Freaking build a life that’s not focused on him, or on any guy.

And then I danced around my room doing karate kicks because I was Excited About how I was Finally Getting My Shit Together in 2018.

Then I ate a bunch of Skittles and fell asleep.

So yeah.

If I’m gonna put myself out there though, I need to feel more confident about how I look, and right now I’m… not.  I’m blondish with blueish eyes. I’m a size twelvish, which people keep telling me is The Size of the Average American Woman, but somehow that is not super comforting. I don’t know that “Hello World, I’m Totally Average in Appearance” is really what I’m shooting for here.

I really shouldn’t focus on getting down to a certain size or number – I should just focus on getting stronger and healthier, more muscle, less flab, all that jazz.

(Although I will say that two years ago I managed to briefly get down to a size six by eating nothing but shredded lettuce and taco sauce all summer long.  Three of the guys we hung out with, guys who normally could be counted on to completely ignore me, were suddenly intensely interested in everything I said.  Even Seth had been extraordinarily attentive.  It had been the most exciting week of my life.)

(Then I ate a sandwich and was right back into a twelve.)

(OK, so maybe that happened over a period of months, but it felt like one day they were all suddenly interested, and the next day, zap, it was all gone.)

So anyway.  Gearing myself back up for more dry heaving on the curb.

Good times, people, GOOD TIMES.


Sometimes we’ll be talking late at night and he’ll look at me a certain way, and I’ll almost think he’s debating it in his mind, whether or not to give it a shot with me. But then the moment always passes.

If I’m honest with myself, I know I wouldn’t want that anyway.I don’t want him to have to think it over. I don’t want him to settle for me, just because we get along so well.

I want him to fall totally head over heels in love with me. Is that too much to ask?

But it’s not gonna happen. It’s not gonna happen. Why can’t I get that and move on?

I’ve got to stop hanging out with him so much. Torturing myself like this is pointless.

Enough. ENOUGH.

Crushing it

TOTALLY great party last night (if your idea of a totally great party is watching your crush crushing on somebody else).

Seth completely ignored me all night because he was busy flirting with this new girl he’s been hanging out with lately, Chelsea, who is annoying and shrill and tiresome in basically every possible way that a person can be tiresome. She’s thin and pretty though, and I guess that’s all it takes.

(Do I sound bitter? Do I? That would make sense, since I am.)

Ok, FINE, so maybe she’s majoring in international finance and MAYBE she had a FEW interesting things to say about the current political climate, but other than THAT, she was extremely tiresome. Suffice to say I’m not joining her fan club anytime soon. (Even if I did high five her over her comments about Trump.)

Seth thought she was brilliant, clearly.  He was using both his I’m-laughing-mostly-because-I-think-you’re-hot laugh and his you-are-legitimately-hilarious laugh. It was painful to watch.

Not that I was watching. Because I wasn’t. I was very busy having a life and talking to other people, including the two guys Chelsea brought with her – Jordan, her dumb as rocks cousin, and Eric, her younger brother, who looked and talked like a surfer but who I seriously doubt has ever actually seen the ocean.

(Having a life is seriously overrated.)

Why I Can’t Resist Him

“Sing me a song,” he says.

“No, that’s embarrassing.”

“Come on. Just one. Do the one from Hamilton where the son dies.”

“No, we’re in the middle of the street, I’m not singing.”

“I’ll be Hamilton.”

“You’re tone deaf.”

“Yeah, but I can make the sad face.” He grins at me. “You know you love the sad face.”

And so I do it – act out part of a musical on a Wednesday night in front of his parent’s house.

I’m a nerd.

But so is he, kind of.

If by nerd you mean the most incredibly awesome nerd ever.

We hung out last night

He didn’t have a date, and I didn’t have a date (big surprise) and nobody in our group had plans to hang out, so the two of us walked around and around my neighborhood, talking and laughing and talking. For five hours. FIVE.

(I’m really doing well at this whole creating separation thing, aren’t I?)

It’s not my fault though – it’s his. He’s completely impossible to resist – funny, and kind, and smart, and awesome.

He’s steady too – the kind of guy you call when you need a sofa moved, or you have a flat tire and forgot your jack, or get locked out of your house at 2 in the morning.

The thing is, if you walked into a party, you wouldn’t pick him out as the cutest guy there. It’s only after you know him for a while that you fall in love with him. Half the girls I know are or have been in love with him at one time or another. Eventually they all give up though, because clearly he’s not ready to be serious with anyone.

That’s not to say that he isn’t cute. He is. He’s tallish and lean but muscular, and he’s got kind of wavy light brown hair and those inquisitive hazel eyes that slay me, I’m not even kidding.

The thing is.

I love him.

It’s not a crush.



My crush kissed me once…

My crush kissed me once, but it was one of those heightened drama situations, and he took it back later. I don’t know if you can really do that – take back the imprint you’ve made on someone else’s heart, but it’s impossible for me to be angry about it.

His little brother was in a car accident. I went to the hospital with Hannah and Scott. The girl Seth was quasi-dating / hooking up with was already there in the waiting room. We waited around in the lobby and when he finally came down he told us that it looked like his brother would be o.k.

His eyes were so bloodshot. He told everyone they should go, that it would be a long time before they knew anything else. He kissed his girlfriend of the week goodbye and she left. Scott and Hannah and I started to go, but he grabbed my hand and asked me to stay for a minute. (As though he needed to ask.)

He pulled me down the hall into some random corridor and he told me with tears in his eyes that it was all his fault, he was supposed to get the brakes changed and he hadn’t. (And of course that had nothing to do with the accident, some guy ran a stop sign, that’s all, but he wasn’t thinking rationally. I guess if he’d been thinking rationally, the rest of it never would have happened.)

I hugged him and kept telling him it was going to be alright, and just like in the movies he started kissing my forehead, and then my cheek, and then everything got turned upside down because suddenly he was kissing me.

Is it horrible that it was the best couple of minutes of my life? It was the most romantic, dramatic thing that had ever happened to me. The guy I was totally in love with needed me to be there with him, nobody but me, and having it all end in a hot make-out session? Total dream come true.

After a few minutes he stopped, and he looked shocked by what he’d done, and he said, “Oh hell Cordy, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to do that.”

Can a heart shatter? Because mine felt like it did. I burst into tears, like he needed to deal with my drama right at that particular moment.

He kept telling me he was sorry, that he was just upset, he hadn’t meant it, and he wasn’t sure why he’d done it, but he was so, so sorry. After a second I tried to pull it together and I left.

His brother turned out to be o.k., more or less – a concussion and a broken arm and some bumps and bruises and one severe gash that they’d been worried about that night, but that was healing well.

Over the next few days, Seth kept telling me over and over again how sorry he was – in notes and phone calls and conversations where he kept telling me he hadn’t meant it, and he was so sorry for crossing that line. “We’re just friends,” he kept reminding me.

Yes, I know. I know.

That was two years ago, and that was the only time he ever kissed me, but I can still feel exactly how it felt.

I’m in love with my best friend

So yeah – I’m in love with my best friend – and it’s a totally hopeless, unrequited case.

Logically, I know if he had any romantic interest in me at all, I’d already know. He’s not subtle or shy. He dates a lot. A LOT.  (Like, seriously, the man needs a hobby.)

But on the other days of the week, when he isn’t going out with a random supermodel type? He’s with me. (He might date the models, but he can’t live without me. That’s something, but probably not enough.)

Now and then I’ll try to create a little distance, try to regain my footing a little, but he always notices, and he doesn’t understand. He says he misses me. He asks me what’s wrong and comes over and wants to have long quiet talks about what’s going on in my head. Because he has no idea.

His name’s Seth and he’s 26. He’s smart, and sweet, and steady, and he looks at me with those huge hazel eyes and I think, I will never get over you, never.

Someday he’s going to get serious with someone and my heart will be totally broken, but on the other hand it will probably be the best thing that could ever happen to me, because I think that’s the only way I’ll ever get over him.

My Super Hopeless Romance

hopeless crush on my best friend romanceI’m Cordy (short for Cordelia – and yes – my mother is a cruel, cruel woman). I have a huge crush on my best friend, and it’s completely hopeless. Any romance between us exists entirely in my head, UNFORTUNATELY. This blog is part of a very feeble attempt to make sure that THIS IS THE YEAR that I finally get over my crush on him and get on with my life. Because honestly? Unrequited love is for suckers.

This blog is mostly just about me wallowing in my feelings. It’s the only place I can really talk about it, since I like to try to hide the truth of my completely idiotic, neverending crush-that-will-not-die from my real life friends whenever possible.  (My friends are sick of hearing about it – they wanted me to move on approximately 700 years ago, but I just couldn’t do it. My friend Hannah bought me that book, “He’s just not that into you,” and I was like, Hannah, he’s not into me at all, I’m not delusional.)

I do think about other things, and have other thoughts, and even non-guy related goals and an actual job and an IQ, but here on my blog it’s pretty much all romantic drama, all the time.  Sometimes I just have to talk about all of the stupid little things that happen that make me think there might be hope, even though logically I know there’s no hope. I know it. I know it.

That’s my story. This is my crush. Comments are always going to be closed, because I know everyone will want to say. “Come on, snap out of it, move on, get a life, stop worrying about what he thinks.”  And I know that.  I already know I should.

Believe me, I know.

But here on the blog I’m going to write the truth of it, the totality of all of my totally pathetic, hopeless feelings. If you promise not to judge me too harshly for failing to have a backbone, feel free to follow along.