Browsing Tag

boyfriend

20-Something, Hipstercrite Life

Love is the Digestive Cacophony of Eating a Large Mexican Meal

note on mirror

a note for my sweetheart- throw up all you’d like

I don’t write about my boyfriend much anymore because it grosses some folks out. Understandably so- I don’t like reading sappy shit either.

Because of this, some dude I know named “Geoff” only comes up occasionally in my blog posts.

But it’s Valentine’s Day, dammit, and I’m going to talk about my lover.

Did the word “lover” just get under your skin there?

Because it most certainly got under mine and I wrote it. Yuk.

Geoff and I will not celebrate Valentine’s Day in any special way today. We will probably go out to eat later tonight which is something we do every night because he has an aversion to eating at home. We might take advantage of Gourmand’s $20 two sandwiches and a bottle of Boone’s Farm deal due to the delightful irony of it. And because we’re small town folk at heart.

We may do something special four days later since that day will be our anniversary. A trip to Enchanted Rock has been in the Continue Reading

Austin, Hipstercrite Life

The Emergency Room is a Scary and Confusing Place at 2AM

“Somebody stabbed me with a screwdriver!”

These words traveled with a ten-person entourage on their way through the ER doors last Friday morning at 2AM.

Geoff and I were at the ER because he had a 103 fever and was coughing up blood.

Not coughing up blood in a Robert Shaw at the end of Jaws when he gets bitten by Jaws kind of way. More of a, Geoff: “Ew, is that blood in my mucus?” and Lauren: “HOLY MOTHER OF GOD! WE’RE TAKING YOU TO THE ER RIGHT NOW! NO TIME FOR PANTS!”  kind of way.

You see, Geoff is a wee bit of a hypochondriac (I love you, baby) and I’m a bit of a nervous Jew who is petrified that everyone she loves is dying all of the time.

This combination leads to barely thought-out sprints to the ER, but to our credit, spitting up blood is not something that is normal.

It scared us enough to take him to the ER because that’s the only friggin’ thing open at 2AM.

As though it’s a prerequisite for getting submitted into the ER, we waited our obligatory Continue Reading

Hipstercrite Life

What I Hope To Find During My First Trip to Europe: My Boyfriend, John Stamos and Cheese

My post over at CultureMap today…

Today my boyfriend leaves for a three-month stay in Portugal. I’m not happy about it.

I’ve spent the past weeks devising a plan to run screaming out onto the tarmac in a rabbit costume before his plane leaves the gate. I figure that a rabbit costume is not threatening enough to get me detained but disorienting enough that the pilots will feel compelled to take reschedule the flight for the next day. Since I won’t want him to leave the next day either, I’ll have to keep doing this every day, which will be how the myth of the human-sized bunny of Austin-Bergstrom International Airport will emerge.

The one good thing about him heading to Europe is that I will have an excuse to visit, if I have the money.

Currently I have a mouth full of cavities and self-employment taxes I need to pay, but I think my mouth and livelihood can take a backseat to Europe, right? I mean, I’m young and I need to take these opportunities while I still can — Continue Reading

Hipstercrite Life

To Dance in Laredo

Life is always an adventure.
Even when it takes you to a border town in Texas where friends and loved ones suggest that your safety will be in great danger if you go.

Texas is 268,581 square miles of curios. Even on the long stretches of dry nothingness or repetitious sand-colored strip malls, the state is never boring. When I first moved to Texas two and a half years ago, I felt like a child seeing the world for the first time. Everything about the state fascinated me and it continues to do so. From the freeways that ascend into the sky to the characters in cowboy hats to the forgotten main streets to the sprawl of major cities, I write a tiny love letter to Texas every day. And now this is my tiny love letter to Laredo.

Laredo, Texas borders the larger Mexican city of Nuevo Laredo. If you Google Nuevo Laredo you will see warnings from US Consulates urging Americans not to travel to Nuevo Laredo and pictures of people’s heads blown open. Laredo is the 88th largest city in the country and the largest ethnic group is Hispanic or Latino at 94.9% of the population. Laredo is known as the ‘Gateway City’ or the ‘City Under Seven Flags’ due to it’s time as the capital of the short-lived Republic of the Rio Grande. Laredo’s economy is built around trade with Mexico, but due to the escalating drug wars in the area, Laredo has definitely seen better days.

This weekend I went to a wedding with a man I’ve known for two months. This man has known the groom for roughly the same amount of time. He hadn’t met the bride until the wedding. I had never met either. With all of this being said, you would have thought we all knew each other for a long time.

We stayed at an old Hacienda-style hotel in the middle of what is left of downtown Laredo.
The streets of Laredo look like Mexico.
From the parking garage we watched the long line of people crossing the bridge into the States.
I wore my grandmother’s dress she bought in Acapulco 50 years ago.
The man wore a turquoise ring- one of two artifacts he inherited from his deceased uncle.
The bridal party wore cowboy boots.
We ate carne guisada and watched the sun set over Texas fields and danced and gawked at a tarantula and watched two very in love people marry.

We ate Taco Palenque.

Hipstercrite Life

To He Who Should Not Read My Blog

I don’t write about my social or romantic life on my blog very often, if at all. This blog is not the platform for that- it’s supposed to be a blog about being a fuckin’ hipster, dammit- and in some areas of my life, I’m actually a somewhat private person. I also realize that saying roughly, “Oh hey, I just wrote about you on a public forum for anyone to read!” may or may not have the ability to freak someone out. In addition, it’s rare for me to feel compelled to write about someone- a truth that I’ve commented on before- but I guess, in this instance, that is finally not applicable. I’m writing this tonight because, honestly, it’s what is on my mind lately and being a writer, it would be silly to ignore.

And though I plead with you on a daily basis not to read my blog, you will anyways.

So, here you go.

_________________________________________________________

To He Who Should Not Read My Blog,

I haven’t known you for very long. 

This is a fact we discussed Continue Reading

20-Something, Hipstercrite Life

Try a Little Tenderness

source

“I haven’t been in love in a long, long time,” she said to herself in the best Otis Redding impression she could muster up. Heightened emphasis on the first “long.” Eight ‘o’s’.

“I haven’t been in love in a loooooooong, long time,” she kept repeating just enough so the purpose behind the sentence meant nothing anymore.

“Hell, I’m not even sure I’ve ever been in love,” she laughs to herself. “I’ve been in infatuation and then something thereafter, I think?”

This prompts her to sing the Rod Stewart song of the same name, but it’s not as enjoyable as her made-up Otis song.

She takes a moment to think back on them all.

It started with Adam. He was the only one to run the course of infatuation, to post-infatuation, to end of the road.

Adam is married and lives in Kansas City and has a second baby on the way. Three weeks after he ended their four year relationship seven years ago, she stopped thinking about him. It scared her how quickly she got over him. It was then she realized how she had been trying to keep a dying connection alive for much too long.

She had moved to a new city and he stayed behind. Their relationship wasn’t important enough to outlast these two truths.

The reason she got over Adam so quickly, the person who helped her do this, will forever remain an important character in the story of her life. A novella could be written on just the Freudian undertones of the short, ugly, but inevitable liaison. However, for now, it will be labeled away as one of the few secrets a woman may have.

In the big city, she dated a handful of men and the little girl in her innocently believed it was all something more than it was. For as self-aware and intuitive she likened herself to be, the truth was, she was completely childlike in her dealing with the opposite sex. Her development arrested by the fact that she grew up with no male figure in her life, and a lack of examples on how a relationship works. What she knew best, what made her most comfortable, was to be inactive player, one who stood in the forefront with a smile and a twinkle, but completely motionless. Though it’s easy to look back and romanticize the histrionics of her dalliances, it was not an enjoyable time in her life. It was a time where she watched tiny chips of her heart float away in the wind.

She watched again and again as she gave a piece of herself to someone who didn’t really want it in the end.

The filmmaker who watched her from behind the camera for six weeks. Studying every nuance of her personality and deciding at some point that he really liked his subject. Or the poet, who lived in the woods, who could open his heart in words, who would hold her close every night, but couldn’t give anything else.

That’s not to say that she didn’t have boys who wanted to take care of her. To give her the world. The problem was, she didn’t want them. They scared her. It was combination of the game being too easy and the idea being completely lost upon her. To not have to grieve for a man, to not have to wait by the window for a father who may or may not show up just seemed… foreign.

She was aware of her actions, but only partially. Over time, she learned to be objective of her behavior in relationships, but not enough to release her.

Unbeknownst to her at the time, leaving the city would bring her closer to that freedom.

She’s 27 now. Years ago she would have been considered an old maid. Now, she’s still carrying the “kid pass”. She’s not really expected to be thinking about settling down or finding the one quite yet. And neither does she want to. She’s focused on her career and her goals. However on certain days, not on days like today, but on days like the one yesterday, where she watched a movie about love conquering all, she thinks, “That’s it! That’s what I want!”

Because at the end of the day, though she may believe love is a privilege, she looks forward to the day it could happen- to me.