Sex and the Awkward Girl: A Night with the Misogynist

Dear Pussycats,

So I thought since I'm young, single, having sex, and in the city of all cities, I would honor my Queen and create a new series for this blog about my dating and sexual mishaps called "Sex and the Awkward Girl" (a play off her well-known book Sex and the Single Girl).

Now, If you guys aren’t actively following me on tumblr or maybe even Instagram, you may have no clue about my obsession with Tinder.

If y'all are living under a rock or are one of those annoying millenials who always pretends they have no clue what is going on in pop-culture to seem posh or whatever, Tinder is a dating app. The way it works is you post up-to 6 photos of yourself and a tiny bio, and based off your geographical closeness others will swipe yay or nay depending on whether they think you are sexxii or not. 

The ratio of dreamy to sleazy on there is about 5 to 401943019401390 on there, but you gotta pay to play pussycats. I mean, despite my very careful selection process, I've been asked to have Nutella licked off of me by THREE DIFFERENT GUYS...yep. 

While many deem this as superficial or impersonal, a friend of mine compared it to Amazon recommendations, there’s no way you can guarantee that you will like what you purchased, but based off their recommendations you might. And this is what I want to talk to you guys about today. 

Sit back, make yourself a dry martini and enjoy my dating misfortunes, there are certainly more where this comes from.

A few weeks ago I saw this guy on tinder who looked pretty cute (lets be real, his dog was really cute in his main picture). So I met up with him for beer at a hole-in-the-wall bar in Soho. It was a pretty alright night. He seemed kinda bro-y but my beer goggles convinced me that he looked JUST like Adrian Grenier and that despite the fact that we mostly talked about him, his lacrosse team and all of the “famous” (D-list) celebrities that he worked with, my dummie brain thought, “hey! I should go on a second date with this guy.” 

To his credit he was a pretty good kisser, and you might be thinking "but Caelan, if he seemed douchey why did you kiss him?" This is a very valid question. A question which I could only respond to by raising my hands in the air and ask myself why I do a lot of the things that I do. Why do I spend 15 minutes straightening my hair to only put it in a bun 5 minutes later and ruin my hard earned work? Why do I still watch the show Nashville? Why did I just eat an entire tube of Barbeque pringles, two tall boys and some spam? I DON'T KNOW PEOPLE? I really don't know. 

ANYWAY, He also earned brownie points with me when I got sick and he was the only dude to send me really nice texts while I was basically dead, which is sort of redeeming. After shaking my sickness off, I decided we should get drinks and see what happens.

After waiting almost 30 minutes for him in Soho on a really cold and windy autumn night, he arrived without any expression on his face. He didn’t apologize for being late, he didn’t ask me how my day was – he had an air to him that made me feel like he was doing me a favor...which obviously did not sit well with me.

Then to ease the awkwardness I suggested we get drinks over dinner, but he insisted on not drinking, which isn't something I would want to make anyone feel bad about, but it certainly didn’t help alleviate the awkwardness of the evening. I drank my very large beers very fast and nodded as he continued to tell me more stories about himself, not listen to me when I was talking, talk over me, and interrupt me to talk more about himself. Beer goggles could not save me now. 

Half-way through the night he was suggesting another date and I honestly said to him, “you realize you know nothing about me, right?,” and he said, “yeah, you’re right” to which I replied, “do you wanna know why that is?” He nodded, and I said, “because you haven’t asked me a single question about myself all night.”

But that didn’t even shake him. In his opinion we were having a GREAT time. He told me HILARIOUS stories about the racist jokes he tells his teammates, how he doesn’t identify as a feminist because it didn't really matter to him, and how he refers to this girl who has had sex with him and several of his friends as the “homie hopper.” 

One of my favorite anecdotes of the night was the story about that one time he stood up a tinder date because she was larger than he gathered from her photos...believe me, I'm more embarrassed to have gone out on a second date with this dill-hole than Ashley Simpson was after her 2004 SNL performance (if only I could've awkwardly square danced out of the restaurant).

The icing on the cake of the night was when he confessed to cyber-bullying and trolling people on the internet for fun. WHO DOES THAT!!? I never understood what type of person enjoys making people feel bad for their own benefit, I think behavior like that is absolutely deplorable and pathetic.  

He was you’re a-typical entitled white cis jerkoff who didn’t even care to bother to listen to me or have a proper conversation (you know, where both people talk?). He boasted about how much money he had and tried to front like he was going to buy some Fendi shoes later. But when the bill came he got really awkward and basically told me that I owe him for next time...really bro?

I kept hoping for the night to get better while simultaneously making a mental check-list of all of his ungentlemen-y behavior. However, when he alluded to a next-time I kept saying, “yeah buddie I don’t know about that.” He texted me the next day making a joke and thanking me for last night (which was the first time I ever heard him have any manners) and I decided to be upfront with him.

Since my ex completely just stopped talking to me, I decided with this boy I would give him a legitimate send-off because no one likes to be ignored. I texted him, “Hey, I hate when people just stop talking to me or lead me on so I’m gonna be blunt right now, I think you’re pretty cool but I don’t think this is gonna go anywhere, I could never date anyone who isn’t a feminist or care about social justice issues as much as me. I’ll gladly still be your friend, but I’d rather not lead you on and have you think that this is going in that direction.”

Then he responded in the most charming way possible:
“Um Okay I guess
I don’t really know what to say
Well that’s your decision
But In my opinion you’re missing out on someone who is a great person
I’m not very happy about this.”

Just to be a jerk I was gonna write, “and that’s a decision I’m going to have to live with every day” but I don’t like to be unnecessarily cruel, so I ignored him.

Then I got a follow-up text the next day asking if he can take me out to lunch later this week to talk, to which I had to put my badbitch face on and say, “There’s nothing to talk about, we had two dates and I realized I’m not interested in dating you, sorry.”

Things we learned from this story:

  • Don’t drink too much beer on the first date
  • Don’t go out with entitled douchebags
  • You don’t always owe people an explanation, because you might just face-palm at their response especially if they are a self-proclaimed "great guy"
  • Avoid guys who openly don't care about feminism (it mean's they don't care about your rights or those of anyones but themselves)

Have you ever gone on a date like this?
Let me know and until then
please keep it sassy,



"Love is Strong" by Patricia

*sigggggggghhhhh* Almost-love is the worst. When I say "almost-love," I'm talking about a sort of love (or a really sweet chocolate kisses-waiting by his locker-type crush) that almost happens - but falls apart very quickly and usually unexpectedly.  

You meet someone who you feel drawn to by a magnetic thread. You see them out of your peripheral vision - sweating - just waiting to think of something to talk you about. You avoid eye contact, speak at the same time awkwardly, and you're concerned that there has been lipstick on your teeth the entire time you've been speaking.

The text exchange is playful and dumb, you talk about everything and nothing, and you use the blushing emoji far too frequently. Your dates are cute and very smiley, and just like eating McNuggets after 4 McDonalds-free-months, you remember just how fucking AMAZING they are and how much you missed the joy of having a crush. 

Uh-oh, you've found that you've transformed into the human personification of a Hallmark valentine -- butterflies in your stomach, fireworks when you kiss...

but then... 

reality strikes.

Something happens - a miscommunication - another lover - distance - or simply no text back - and the One Direction vinyl that's been playing on repeat in your head screeches to an abruptly stop - all before you really even got to enjoy it.

“I am mastering my love for you and turning it inwards as a constituent element of myself” by Patricia

UGHHHH, You hadn't felt like that in such a long time! And instead of pursuing a relationship that would allow these feelings to germinate and bloom into something forreal -- someone or something just smushed your good feelings like a stampede of kindergartners in rainboots. 

You told a few of your coworkers and friends about it, because this time you felt it was different...it wasn't. And now you feel like the world's biggest asshat.

They ask you out of plain curiosity and boredom while pretending to space the racks, "what happened to dreamboat?" and you'd feel pathetic making up a lie, so you hang your head low and say something along the lines of, "he swerved me." 

They respond with something humiliating like, "I could've told you that." Or worse, they pity you, "oh Caelan, there are plenty of fish in the sea," to which you give them a Liz Lemon status eye-roll and casually explain to them that you're gonna die alone after slipping whilst getting out of the shower (my biggest fear). But since no one was there but the 15 cats you own, who can't dial 911, (or use chopsticks - they are literally useless), they begin to feed off your corpse when their Fancy Feast automatic-dispenser stops working.

You're coworkers look back at you befuddled and just say, "noooooo" very unconvincingly. You sigh.

You then become that friend that everyone hates, the one who is constantly trying to come up with justifications for why he hasn't texted you - maybe he's waiting for you to text him - maybe his phone was eaten by feral pink-eyed rabbits, or maybe he's so in love with you, he just doesn't know what to do with himself? And even though one part of your brain realizes that you've become that annoying friend - just like a meth addiction or an America's Next Top Model marathon on VH1 - you can't stop once you start.

You then begin to swirl down a drain of depression and humiliation finding yourself "UUUGHH"-ing out loud and flip-flopping between a myriad of emotions: general irritation, minor sadness, humiliation, and horniness (you just thought you'd be getting laid on the regular, and now you have to make an effort again, UGHHH).

You find that the worst part about almost-love is that you know you didn't even like them that much, but you liked them enough for it to still hurt. You never got to learn that you hate them, that he eats corn-pops (who da fuck eats those), that he has a million unpaid parking tickets or that he thinks The Big Bang Theory is funny (heaven forbid). 

Your only memories of him are a series of mental polaroid snapshots of him being dreamy, how he smelled nice, and how he said he read your blog (literally my favorite/least favorite thing to hear). And since you never got answers and you were vaguely humiliated about how embarrassingly excited you got, almost-love is kind-of the worst thing to try to get over.

Almost-love doesn't hurt enough to cry over - it doesn't hurt enough to leave angry texts, although apparently it does hurts enough to write an entire blogpost about this subject...oops...

The good news is that almost-love hurts mostly on a superficial level. You didn't really know him, you're mostly just bummed and embarrassed. But you need to know, your coworkers don't actually care about your life (like...at all) and your friends shouldn't be judging you, (if they are, they aren't cheetah sister-friends). 

In no time you'll see a cute guy at Starbucks and fall in love with the way we spelled your name wrong and how his green visor accentuates his hazel eyes. You'll begin a flirtation with him and you'll find yourself constantly hopped up on caffeine and love-mojo after all the "random" encounters you planned. 

You'll begin to think sort-of fondly of what-almost-was with your almost-love and it'll be a story for the blog and your little black book. 

Almost-love sucks because you almost got vulnerable and almost let someone into your deadbolt-locked-heart. But the great part of almost-love is that it reminds you that you are capable of having school-boy-crushes and feeling butterflies for people just when you were begining to doubt it (I certainly was). 

And hey, maybe next time your almost-love will just turn into love-love and you'll be happy you were single at that magical point in time. 

"He's more myself than I am. Whatever our souls are made of, his and mine are the same" by Patricia

Have you ever had a case of almost-love?
Let me know!

Keep it sassy,
Sasssquatch aka Caelan

P.S.  If you're currently going through this, here is a pro-tip: Cut the sad One Direction ballads that make you want to simultaneously cry and shove a cupcake in your face, and play Beyonce's 2006 album B-Day, trust me, you'll be glad you did. 

P.S.S. All photos were from this amazing photographer Patricia (not sure her last name) who I found on flickr, go check her out!



PC: Jhune Li
Dear Pussycats,

I really believe that gaining "closure" is one of the most difficult parts of the human experience. How are you supposed to just close the book on a relationship or something as seemingly trivial as fictional characters in a television series that you adore, when you're left hanging. How are you supposed to shake off these feelings of sadness, confusion and frustration, when they've officially been deemed socially unacceptable to have anymore, by your peers, loved-ones and your own rational mind?

I didn't intend on making this blog a virtual clothes-line for my dirty lingerie, but being vulnerable on here has really allowed me to look within and learn more about myself, and hopefully will lead to healing, and if not, I'm out of luck for ideas, and at least you get a good story out of it, right?

So here it goes.

A few months ago I "dated" this boy man(ish) person. Our romantic-relationship was prefaced with a two-year-long friendship. He was a real sweetheart who had an affinity for wordplay and great ears for listening. He showed me he cared about me as my friend through little actions, like being the second person to show up to my birthday party, or by bringing me trail mix when I was hungry in the editing room -- just out of the kindness of his heart.

We bonded over beers, board games and shooting b-roll, and our relationship evolved from platonic to not-platonic, pretty seamlessly. He was my study-partner, drinking-buddy and editor, and despite the fact that we never labeled anything, this was my first, what felt like real, relationship.

I describe my previous relationships like easy-bake-oven cakes: quick, sweet, and not as good as anticipated. But our relationship was different, it wasn't just this puppy-love tooth-ache fantasy; we fought, we had boring nights-in, he watched Drop Dead Diva with me (y'all know how much I love shitty television), he took care of me when I was sick, and I even introduced him to my family (A first for me).

He was older, quiet about his feelings, and had a lot more life experience than me, and compared to all my previous boyfriends who were in the same stage in life as me, he had lived. He had this whole life before me, including random jobs, intense previous relationships, years at other colleges and even a three-year-long stint working at Blockbuster (which always seemed to fascinate me).

On the surface we didn't have much in common other than a love of writing and drinking beer, but in a weird way I always thought that that was enough, I guess I was wrong.

He initially told me of his plans to go to Brazil to see the 2014 World Cup, a life long dream of his, for the summer. But his plans began to waver as our relationship intensified, and he began to flip-flop between the idea of going to Brazil and the idea of following me to New York. The night he told me that he was going to Brazil instead of following me, was also the night he told me I had the loudest silence he'd ever heard. I was crushed, but being the occasionally level-headed person that I am, I understood, I kissed his nose and I promised to stay in touch, no matter what.

I guess things between us were always more real to me than him, and I guess for the first time in my life, I liked anyone more than they liked me. When I moved to New York a week after he left for Brazil,  I filled my tiny room with momentos of our time spent together. The Jenga game that led to our first kiss, the basketball shorts he gave me to replace the pair of his I always stole, books he thought I'd appreciate and photos from the night of my 21st birthday decorated my room. And at nights I'd wrap myself up like a burrito in his old comforter, creepily smelling it to remind myself of him and to maintain a feeling of home when I was so far away.

I knew communication was going to be difficult between us because we never relied on technology for that, nor had we ever been physically so far away, but I always assumed there would be something. We emailed back and forth and he told me not to worry about the fact that he was going to be living with his exgirlfriend girlfriend former love-interest person that I always heard about, when his housing situation fell through. He told me before he left, that his relationship with her, an on-again off-again long distance relationship for the past year or two, was nothing compared to ours, and that he wasn't choosing her over me.

However, I began to see photos she posted on Facebook of them together (hand-on-knee cuddly type shit) and my heart began to gain consciousness from the love-struck coma it was in. He denied that their "relationship" was like that, and he told me she is going to post whatever she wants, and he has no control over what she does. I found that response to be very blunt, and it made me angry, I thought to myself, "what about me, what about us?"

And in an immature final attempt to validate myself and his feelings for me, I sent him an email telling him not to worry about me anymore. It was loaded with apologies for my "crazy" behavior (which was not that crazy FYI) and promises to send positive vibes his way no matter what, with the overlying message that I didn't want to be his responsibility anymore.

Part of me wished I meant more of what I said at the time, but I know that I sent it, secretly hoping he was going to say everything that I wanted to hear. He was going to tell me that she meant nothing to him and tell me that I meant as much to him as he meant to me. He was going to beg me to be patient and he was going to return to America as soon as possible. I should've been more honest with him instead of pretending I had it to together in a self-sabotaging attempt to do what was "right." I was trying to be "strong" but on the downlow I was trying to use some reverse psychology on him to get validation.

I sent it hoping that, best case scenario, he would book a ticket for NY and we'd be cuddling and watching Netflix in no time, and, worst case scenario, that our friendship would still be intact and I would see him eventually.

Four months later, I have yet to hear from him.

I pathetically sent him an email in September asking him to give me a brutally honest explanation for what happened, so I could have some closure.

Still nothing.

I recently ran into one our classmates who is an absolute doll, but seeing her reminded me of him. My feelings for him are like the glitter confetti in a snowglobe, and just as they all settled to the bottom of the idealic winter scenario, being reminded of him shook them around again. I remembered how his ski-jump shaped nose had been broken via a dodgeball accident, how he'd call me "pretty lady" or "sexy pants", and how he wore bear hats with me and took me to see a movie about bears (my favorite animal).

The most frustrating part about all of this is that it's not like our relationship was that great. But the insufferable feeling of not being heard, or feeling ignored, is enough to drive a girl absolutely bananas. He's been showing up in my dreams, I facebook messaged one of his roommates, and I hate to sound like a total idiot, but even after he ignored me, I was patiently counting down 90 days from when he left, assuming that maybe he'd hit me up when his visa expired. Still nothing.

Getting closure on this relationship is like getting closure on the TV show Full House. It was cancelled before they had a finale, and the last episode was stupid and cryptic (it was the one where Michelle falls off a horse and gets amnesia). All we wanted was a great finale that tied up all the loose ends and made sense and we could turn off the TV, smile and sigh. But instead we're left in the dark.

I feel dumb for still caring about him after 4 months of not-talking. I feel like an idiot every time I check his stupid twitter to see if he's still alive, or to see if I can pull a Nancy Drew and figure out the mystery of where he is and what happened to us. I feel especially stupid because if any of my friends were in this situation I would say "BYE" *peace sign emoji* *hair flip emoji* *airplane emoji*, but for some reason, I'm still not 100% over it.

But where do I go from here. I can gain closure in the fact that he doesn't want to continue our relationship, which is obvious. I can gain closure by donating his comforter, Jenga box and other mementos of what was, to someone who wont hold such disdain for these physical objects. I can gain closure by forgiving myself for blaming myself for everything. I can gain closure by remembering that all I really did was care, I just happened to care about a jerk. And I can gain closure by blocking him off twitter (despite the fact that now I have 499 followers...ugh) and blocking his girlfriend on Facebook.

Honestly, after writing this and having a good cry while doing so (*sang like Tswift* he's the reason for the teardrops on my keyboard) I'm already feeling better.

We won't ever get a finale for Full House and maybe I'll never actually know the full story with this boy, but that doesn't mean it wasn't worth experiencing. I mean, I certainly think a life involving John Stamos is a life worth living (plottwist I was talking about John Stamos this whole time loljk) And there will be always be another show and another boy, that will make the life studio audience in my heart go "awwwwwwww."

And if you take ANYTHING away from this article, please don't just stop talking to people. I used to do that all that time and now that it's been done to me, I will try my hardest to never do it again. It's mean, it's not fair and it's not that hard to tell someone that you aren't interested or that your feelings have changed.

Keep it sassy,
Sasssquatch aka Caelan


Falling in Love Everyday.

Dear Pussycats,
New York is a pretty romantical place, I don't know if it has to do with the illustrious dream of living here, this winter season approaching, the countless Romcom's that take place here or maybe it's just the fact that "This Will Be" by Natalie Cole is playing on loop in my head while I write this, but love is perpetually in the air in New York City, and I gotta be honest with you, I fall in love every single day here.

When I say "fall in love" I mean it. Every single day in New York I fall in love with one thing or another and call it cheesy or look at me like I'm one of those guys with a weird Japanese sex-doll but I can't help who and what I love, okay?

So I thought I make a list of a few things I've fallen in love with this week:

On Sunday I fell in love with Bloody Marys
I went on a lovely brunch and I had my first fancy-pants Bloody Mary. Naturally I always gravitate towards mimosas when choosing brunch-time alcohol. Mimosa's (orange juice and champagne) are sweet and delicious, and the thought of tomato juice and alcohol sounds about as appealing as a jetski ride with Mickey Rourke. My father described my Granny Betty's Bloody Marys as tasting like, a tin can, however after my first sip of my delicious Brooklyn artisanal Bloody Mary, I understood the appeal. The salty deliciousness paired with sweet brunch french toast goodness made for the loveliest combination.

On Monday I fell in love with Amazon Prime and it's speedy furniture delivery

Monday was spent with my roommate and I lounging around our living room waiting for my furniture to be delivered. Just as anticipated, both my new bed-frame and desk arrived quickly and that day. They were easy to assemble and instantly made my room finally feel like mine, despite how parisian I did feel sleeping on a mattress on the floor, I feel like a normal human now and normal is good.

On Tuesday I fell in love with a french bulldog named "Funyuns"
He had a crusty nose and wheezed like Lil Wayne, and while my actual tinder date with Funyuns owner did not end in love, my heart was left in that apartment in chinatown.

On Wednesday I fell in love with pumpkin shaped Reeses peanut-butter cups.
Because seasonal things always taste just a little bit better, amiright or?

On Thursday I fell in love with my city all over again
Reference my last blogpost. <3
On Friday I fell in love with a man on the subway
PC: DrawingNewYork
Jacqueline and I have an ongoing conversation about who we refer to as "subway boyfriends." Occasionally when I'm sitting on the R train with nothing to do but listen to Beyonce and play solitaire (the loneliest game there is) I look up from my Hello Kitty incased iPhone and I fall in love. This boyfriend however was particularly special. A week ago I was on the R train on my way to the movie, when I saw this really dreamy guy sitting near me. We kept making eye contact and smiling at each other, but I was too scared to say anything. As he got up to get off at his stop, he kept looking at me and after the subway doors opened and he got off, he looked through the window and I waved at him. He tried to signal me to come off, but HELLO BUDDY, I got places to be!

Then on friday, I SAW HIM AGAIN. He must live near me because we both got on at my stop and my heart started racing faster then the express D-train. I kept trying to avoid eye contact with him because he's dreamy and he makes me nervous. Also I was dressed up as a cat. I got off on 59th st and looked through the window but he didn't look back, my heart sunk like an anchor, "BYE SUBWAY BOYFRIEND", I thought. But then, at 36th st, he not only got on at my stop, but he sat RIGHT NEXT TO ME. We rode 15 stops together and I kept trying to look over without looking obvious, but I was still too scared to say anything (I know, I know, feminism, I should be empowered yadda yadda yadda) and while we never talked I gave him my best sparkley-eyes and mega-wat braces-for-four-years-perfect smile as I hopped off on Prince st. Next time I'll be a brave little toaster, I swear...or maybe not. I kinda love subway boyfriends being just that, subway boyfriends, nothing more, because then I don't have to learn that we have nothing in common, or he's married, or thinks The Big Bang Theory is funny, he gets to remain perfect in my head and my dreams.

On Saturday I fell in love with Everything-Bagels with Strawberry Cream Cheese.
I know what you are thinking..."wat?" But believe me when I say, discovering everything-bagels with strawberry cream cheese may or may not be one of the best discoveries of my lifetime. My darling friend Misha recommended them to me with the explanation that they are the perfect amount of salty and sweet. I could not agree more. The super sweetness of the cream cheese delightfully balances the super saltiness of the everything bagel. Plus, the cute bagel place on my way to my subway stop, appropriately called "Bake Ridge Bagels," has neon-pink strawberry cream cheese that is totally my aesthetic.

On Sunday I fell in love with a dreamy doorman.
Now I don't know if it's the suit and tie, or maybe the stone-cold disposition, but I've always had a soft spot for doormen. We always have one at our store during the weekends due to high traffic and we've had the most colorful characters come in for the job. But, at 1 PM they have to take their break and in walks my boyfriend, for one hour to relieve them for their lunch break. It's creepy that I refer to this guy as my boyfriend, because we've had a total of 2 conversations. But omg guys, I'm totally blushed-face emojis for this guy. He's short, and cute and totally has Zayn Malik vibes. We talked about jobs and life and what we aspire to be, all while I'm pretending to space the racks and look like I'm working and gah!

I seriously feel like a 13-year-old when I see him. He didn't work on saturday and I had a customer for the majority of his hour on sunday so I never got a chance to be like, "WE SHOULD HANG OUT AND YOU SHOULD LOVE ME." But the beauty of this lovely man is that I will see him next Saturday. I wonder if I should leave him in the category of "subway boyfriends" and have him forever be a weekend treat to look forward too because I love the giddy feeling of having a crush.  I love thinking about this mysterious suit-clad man and what he does with his free time, if he thinks of me too, and I wonder if I will be woken up from the dream if I learn that he snores. BUT UGH HE'S SO DREEEEEAAAMMMYYYY I cannot you guys.

So see, my life may be a little more dreamboats and bagels then I've let on in the past week.
What are some things you guys have been loving this week?
And let me know if you like this sort of series, because I tell you, I fall in love every day.

Keep it sassy,
Sasssquatch aka Caelan


Is it Corny to Title this Post "Reflections"?

Agnes Tait, Skating in Central Park (1934) / Vampire Weekend, Don’t Lie (2013)
Dear Pussycats,

I am completely shocked and a total heart-eye-emoji with the overwhelming amount of support I received for the last post I wrote. The kind words that each and every one of you shared with me totally wove together and wrapped around me like a fleece cheetah-print snuggie and I feel so touched and toasty! 

I gotta be honest though, I didn't really write that post with the idea that anyone was gonna read it. I wrote it to finally solidify the feelings I was having and put them in a tangible medium. Posting it makes me feel totally vulnerable, like if I was crying in public, but you guys are the kind bystanders that gave me a hug or offered me a tissue or a piece of pie, or whatever strangers do when someone is crying in public. I worry now that that post came across a bit too-woe-is-me, because I usually only have these type of freakouts to my sweet mom and sisters.

Your kindness and support really mean the world to me. I read every single post they really made me melt like a handful of skittles in a 6-year-olds hand. I can't thank each and every one of you enough. Yall reminded me why I'm doing what I'm doing and why I'm even here, but now I want to tell you how the rest of my evening went.

After spewing all of that internal gunk into my blog the other night, I shut my computer, hopped on the train and met up with my best friend Jacqueline. She greeted me with a hug and two free Dean and Deluca cookies, which were as good as they were over-priced. We hopped back on the train and got all the way to Bryant park because the Rockefeller ice skating rink just opened up and it was the perfect evening to go.

Jacqueline was prepared with her gorgeous professional-looking white ice-skates that were tied together by the laces and hung off her shoulder. I've always admired how gorgeous ice skates are, especially compared to the clunky obnoxious rentals I had to wear. But anyway, we got in, laced up and set for the ice.

Two Ladies Ice Skating in Central Park”,
Walter Granville Smith. (
Jacqueline had many years of skating on me and was gliding around like a graceful girl Mighty Duck, while I was a bit more like bambi, or a senior citizen (knees bent, ass out, hands forward and moving at 1 mile an hour). I found that clinging to the side of the rink didn't work as well for me as holding Jacqueline's hand, trusting her and skating slowly and leisurely (for her anyway) together. We skated away from sides of the rink avoiding those clumsy tourists and local kids who are WAY too good to be in such a small rink and skate super fast around you,(like, is that really necessary, guys?)

After a total ass-plant on the ground whacking my tail bone and almost losing my beanie, I got up and kept skating with a very patient Jacqueline supporting me and harmonizing Kelly Clarkson songs with me. After a few more rounds I knew I needed to take a break so Jacqueline escorted me to the side of the rink and then she skated around at her regular super-fast pace and I yelled at her from the sidelines like a proud coach, "Keep Going! One More Round!" Watching Jacqueline and a bunch of strangers skate around the rink with the twinkly lights of New York City and Frank Sinatra playing softly as a breathtaking backdrop, I took a minute to remember where I am.

While I don't have my mom giving me hugs everyday, the beautiful Pacific Ocean float in or the sun to kiss my shoulders on my walks to class, I do have Jacqueline patiently holding my hand and singing with me while I look like an ass-hat on ice. I have Rockerfeller plaza, I have $1 pizza and I still have, as corny as this sounds, my dream (feel free to roll your eyes at me)!

After a few more rounds of skating, self-reflection, and trying to not fall on my ass again, we decided it was time for hot drinks and a walk-about Times Square. I had my first (and probably last) pumpkin spice latte of the season and we talked about everything and anything, while we were completely surrounded by the all-encompassing lights and hubbub.

Jacqueline looked to me and said, "Is it just me or do you find Times Square strangely calm, there are so many tourists around in such a hurry because they only have so much time and so many things to do, but we've got no where else to be." 

I completely agreed, when thinking about myself a year ago coming to New York for Teen Vogue Fashion University, I stayed in Times Square and was in New York for literally a New York minute. It's crazy how that was a brief look and what my life would be like in a year (but way my reality is wayyyy less bougie) and idk, I'd like to think 2013-Caelan, High School-Caelan and even 6th grade-Caelan with braces, would be super crazy proud of me, even if current 21-year-old Caelan isn't.

Call me a total hallmark card, but I feel like ice skating at Bryant Park is a total metaphor for my life right now. I may be stumbling and even falling totally on my ass, but at least I have a beautiful backdrop and a trustworthy friend who will hold my hand and get hot chocolate with me afterwards, not to mention a network of beautiful souls who are willing to reach out to me in my time of uncertainty just to tell me that they believe in me, and if that's not as beautiful as Fall Time in New York, then idk what is. 

I want to thank you again for being such great friends and let me know if I can ever help you out with any of your stresses or probz or anything
I love you all so much
Sasssquatch aka Caelan


Real Talk.

PC: Jhune Li

I told you all that I'm going to be a lot more honest with you guys on this blog and I'm going to document everything that is going on in my just-moved-to-New-York-Living-on-my-own-21-year-old-world so here it goes. Moving to New York, I had this preconceived idea that I would be living the Empire State building-Cosmopolitan drinking-Carrie Bradshaw-wet dream-fantasy and I think with this blog I've done a pretty good job of convincing you all that I'm doing that. When I went home briefly I was bombarded with sweet comments from people around me, saying things like, "omg you've made it!" and "look at you, Carrie Bradshaw" which made want to sink into my turtleneck and explain that I really haven't done much of that at all. Today I will finally admit to you how I am actually living and crush all your dreams of me eating brunch every day, drinking Cosmos and stumbling around Time Square in thousand dollar heels.

First things first, I'm not living in Manhattan anymore, I'm living in the most Southern part of Brooklyn, in a tiny primarily Italian and Greek neighborhood called Bay Ridge. Bay Ridge is as humble as it is not exciting, everyone is over the age of 60 and whenever I buy beer the Walgreens employees see my Hawaii ID and ask "why are you here?" While I'm happy I live in a safe neighborhood, I have a 40 to an hour-and-a-half long commute into the city everyday and I find myself feeling like I'm constantly on the subway, which is a massive timesuck and takes a toll on your psyche, (there are only so many games of Solitare you can play). When my city-friends want to take the subway one stop to get closer to where we are trying to go, I literally want to pull all of my hair out, I swear the MTA workers know who I am and it's sad.

Secondly, I'm working retail again. Yes, I know. Now you can start shaking your head. I needed a job because I realized quickly my summer internship at BUST wasn't going to turn into anything, and I jumped on the first job I found. As you might've remembered, I quit my job at Nordstrom because I was OVER retail, and guess what pussycats, I'm STILL over it. The retail industry is such bullshit, we force people to buy things they don't need through verbal manipulation, while people breath down our necks about what strategies we could do differently to increase our sales. I'm sorry but I care as much about retail as I care about Taylor Swifts new album, (which is absolute ambivalence). The girls at work don't particularly like me which is apparent, and passive aggressive (yay!) and I'm so tired of coming home from work feeling completely under-appreciated and not liked. (okay, I'm a millennial, you can roll your eyes at me). I've dealt with people who didn't like me for being myself, (loud and obnoxious) for my entire life, it just sucks when I don't actually have to be here, yet I'm finically obligated to be there. For once I would just like a job where I was appreciate for the person I am, and actually be able to use the skills I've acquired from my degree and my natural ability to talk and use it for good.

Thirdly, my latest internship is not what I expected at all. I've been writing articles for free and getting 0 feedback, nothing has been published and I'm just frustrated with the whole thing. I want to be a writer, I want to be the best intern possible, but not being able to go into a physical space and communicate directly is probably my biggest problem with this whole thing.

Fourthly, I'm completely behind on my online classes. And then I get anxiety about it, but I'm trapped at work and am forced to space a clothing rack for the 284029024 time that day, while I could actually be doing something productive and important. Instead I'm trapped in my own head, while my coworkers ignore me and I feel like a sims character that has been walking into a wall for the past 6 hours. Then my anxiety gets so bad on my days off that I don't even wanna start what I have to do and I get further and further behind on my school work, which causes me to want to hide under my comforter forever and pretend I don't exist. (look forward to a future post on this subject).

Fifth(ly?), You may or may not know, I'm single again, which is fine. But I'm also living without my mom, dad or sisters for the first time ever and I'm fucking lonely. I've been forcing myself to go on countless tinder dates, which have made for some pretty great stories, but haven't helped anything. I feel this void in my heart that I keep trying to fill with constant human interaction, forcing myself to ask my coworkers about their trips to the Hamptons (which, for the record, I do not care about) or keep my roommate in the living room as long as possible just to not feel the silence. I've been going on date after date, and despite some of these guys being cute and nice, I feel nothing. Talking to my family on the phone or facetime and getting sympathetic texts from my friends back home is great and all, but when I hang up sometimes I just burst into tears because I can't just get a hug thus making me feel even more lonely.

Sixth, I keep trying to pick myself up from my bootstraps, do better, and have my Elle Woods moment where she buys the computer in her Playboy bunny costume, but for some reason I cannot. I keep wanting to get my shit together and be the Carrie Bradshaw that everyone expects me to be (or at least that I hope I could be) but I keep just fucking up bumbling all over the place. I feel more that opening scene of an episode of The Office with Kevin and he keeps spilling this pot of chili everywhere and just trying to get it together but obviously failing.

I'm just so tired of it all. I'm tired of being so lonely and having anxiety 100% of the time, and not feeling liked or appreciate by my job or my internship and just feeling like I'm spilling feces-looking-chili all over my life.

Lastly someone very important to my development as a human being, and the closest person I've ever had to a Grandmother passed away yesterday. I will write more about her when I'm ready. But for now I'm just going to say, I'm very very sad and frustrated, I should've contacted her when I had the chance but instead I was too wrapped up in my own pathetic New York life that I didn't, and I will never quite forgive myself for that.

Paired that with poor eating habits, bad sleeping habits and listening to a lot of Joni Mitchell and I'm a complete sad sack. I feel like I'm letting my friends down, my family down but most of this is my completely projecting because I feel like I'm letting my self down. I just need to catch a fucking break and get myself out of this funk, so hopefully actually putting it out there and telling you guys about it, you guys can help me.

I'll take any advice if you've ever felt like this. And until then lets all just hold hands and cry together, that kind of all I've been in the mood for lately because in addition to being physically tired, I'm tired of being sad news bears all the time!

Love you all so very much,
Sasssquatch aka Caelan


Passive Aggression....*sigh*

Photo Credit: Jhune Li
Dear Pussycats,

Growing up as a millennial, I’ve always had the crutch of the Internet to ease the pain and frustrations I’ve had about the world. Why speak to someone directly and have actual conflict when you can write anonymously, “You’re a cuntblossom and everyone hates you” on Tumblr or Formspring (if anyone even remembers that.)

Why practice conflict-resolution, which involves rationally speaking your honest feelings and then listening to someone speak theirs to find a happy middle ground, when you can just write a Facebook status indirectly talking about them? Not only so they can see it, but also so all of your 24902950 Facebook friends will see it too.

I’m going to be honest here, I used to be the QUEEN of that. I was a passive aggressive princess. I was the Michael Jordan of indirect confrontation - running around slam-dunking insults and projecting my insecurities, but hiding at the first glimpse of confrontation.

I’ve lost serious friendships due to the fact that I was too scared to just own up to my feelings and I instead chose the passive aggressive or even worse, anonymous route, and I’m so embarrassed of that to this day.

There is a reason why I really don’t enjoy reminiscing about high school, and frankly why I’m not particularly close to many of my former high school friends.

Remember that episode of 30 Rock where Liz Lemon is thinking about high school and painted herself out to be a total victim, but in reality she was the bully. That was me. I completely thought of myself as this loner who “no one understood,” but in actuality I was a passive aggressive jerk who had so many feelings and didn’t have the proper communication skills to explain them, therefore I lashed out at people who didn’t “get it”.

High school is hard, because you just feel the feels so hard, and you constantly have emotions bubbling up inside of you, like a science fair papier-mâché volcano that sits dormant in a classroom until someone pours baking soda solution inside. Our generation has been completely enabled by the Internet, because it has allowed us to erupt red frothy verbal magma everywhere without ever having to actually clean it up.

This worked hand in hand with discovering feminism for me. When I learned about feminism, I immediately became a feminist kill-joy, who wanted to tell people how problematic they were without actually doing it directly. This was partly because I was so jazzed on feminism, but also because it gave me a platform to be a raging bitch because I was realizing how fucked up our society really is, and I wanted to tell people about it.

I had a friend who wore bindi’s who wasn’t Desi, I found this offensive because the internet told me it was offensive. Instead of asking my friend about it in a rational manner, I wrote anonymously in her tumblr many times. This was because I was scared about the consequences of her knowing that I thought she was being problematic (and racist) and potentially ruining our friendship, but I still wanted her to know her behavior was not okay.

In actuality my behavior was not okay. It was passive aggressive and immature and I really should’ve just talked to her directly and nipped it in the bud. She later called me out on my shit, and I lost a friend that day. I don’t for a second feel sorry for myself, and in a weird way I’m glad she did that. From that day forward I decided I was no longer going to be passive aggressive and I created a foolproof anti-passive aggressive flowchart that I reference in all situations of my life.

Ever since I created this, it has worked 110% of the time. There are always going to be natural irritants in your life that inevitable occur, but the main thing is that you need to decide is if it is worth it. Is it worth discussing and potentially getting into some sort of altercation when rational conflict-resolution falls to the wayside? Is it worth potentially losing friends? Is the person even going to bother to see your side at all and will it just become a pointless argument? You need to pick your battles, and if you don’t think discussing this would be productive than you seriously need to get over it.

I see people post passive aggressive statuses on Facebook ALL THE TIME, and frankly I find it pathetic. And no, this isn’t a passive aggressive jab at people who are passive aggressive, I just think that we as a society, especially us millennials, need to start being more direct with people and talking to each other instead of hiding behind our computers.

 I can say this because back in the day I would literally write passive aggressive statuses about other people and then if they confronted me about it, I would sometimes lie and say, “I was talking about somebody else!” CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT!?! How stupid could I be! I’ll do a post later about my tips for successful conflict resolution, but until then reference my flowchart if you need help.

I also want to reiterate that I’m by no means perfect. I haven’t completely voided myself of all passive aggressive inclinations and desires, but the main thing is that I am now making an effort to try. That’s literally all we can do as humans.

What we’ve learned from this story?
1)   Don’t post passive aggressive Facebook statuses
2)   Rational conflict-resolution is key
3)   Own up to your feelings and be heard directly

Are you guilty of being passive aggressive on social media?
Were you a Liz Lemon in High School

keep it sassy,
Sasssquatch aka Caelan