Dear God, I’m ready to be an overnight success already.
My most recent mini-crisis began while listening to an old episode of Emma Gannon’s podcast where she interviewed Dolly Alderton. I’d read books by them both in December so naturally I had to do my usual parasocial binge-fest (when I find a new author, actor, public figure, etc that I like and need to binge all content related to them ASAP). While listening to the episode, Alderton shared that one of the things she loves most about being in her thirties is that she finally feels financially secure. Naturally, I panicked since I blew up my life– career, finances, nervous system, the works over the last few years.
How long do I have to wait before I’ve “made it?”
Up until I started my Substack last summer, the most writing I’d done since high school had been the inconsistent rambles in my journal. I promised myself not to paywall anything, focus on growth, and allow this to be a creative endeavor, but I have this habit of trying to monetize every hobby of mine. I recently talked myself out of taking teacher training at my yoga studio because I knew I’d be pivoting again and trying to open my own yoga studio by the end of the year.
I’m more of a spoiled millennial brat than I’d realized. I don’t know if it’s because I watch too much entrepreneurial TikTok– or because I spent three years brainwashed by the coaching industry– but I’ve noticed that I feel entitled to massive success, merely because I’m thirty-four and have WiFi. I’ve just started writing and, like, I’m okay at it. Yet I think I need to win a Pulitzer and score a six-figure book deal by the time I’m 36 (lol, I know). I’ve wasted so much time flip-flopping, trying to become successful at other stupid things that I feel desperate to make this happen NOW.
Are married couples having spontaneous sex?
I feel my husband cringing while reading this, but we tend to loosely plan when we’ll be getting it on. It’s not robotic—like penciling each other in between appointments—and I am a very satisfied wife, thank you very much. But I’m nosey I wonder: is that common, or is everyone else out here having unplanned makeout sessions in the kitchen that lead to doing the deed while the meatloaf burns unattended?
After sharing with a colleague that we’ve been together six years, she joked about how we’re approaching the seven-year itch. I don’t want us to get itchy come August, so I’m open to a preventative spice injection. Is spontaneous sex the way? I’m not so sure.
In theory, it sounds sexy and movie-like to unexpectedly be ravaged by my husband while I’m doing the laundry. In reality? I’d probably be worrying about the sheets starting to wrinkle while trying to get in the mood. I’ve realized I actually like knowing when to expect it. We both know exactly when we’ll be ready, free of distractions, and feeling our sexiest—and honestly, I think that’s okay.
I wanted the tea and manifested it with lightning speed!
This morning, I woke up and decided to Google my ex-boyfriend—the one I broke up with eleven years ago. I’m still Facebook friends with a few of his family members, but they never post photos of him. Recently, though, his sister posted a picture with a little girl who is this guy’s literal twin, and I thought, “Did this fucker actually have a baby?” Curiosity got the best of me. Since he’s basically a ghost on social media, I Googled away.
I don’t feel bad about researching them because his mother-in-law used to stalk me at work (I should do a storytime about that one day because it was beyond strange.) Anyway, I found nothing exciting and got bored after five minutes.
A few hours later, a friend reached out to tell me they ran into him, his wife, and his daughter over the weekend. Why can’t I manifest the winning lotto numbers as easily as I just manifested that information?
British crime-thrillers are my heroin.
What do they put in Harlan Coben shows on Netflix that makes them so binge-worthy? The newest one, Missing You, just came out, and I’m savoring it because I have no idea what to do once it’s done. Wait another year for the next one? I can’t bear the thought. My husband seems to disagree, though—he fell asleep during the first three episodes.
Are these shows actually good, or is my obsession with all things British getting so out of hand that I’m willing to watch bad TV just because it was made in the UK? I even use a VPN to stream Taskmaster and anything with Katherine Ryan on my laptop. I can’t get enough.
As I gear up for my next trip across the pond in April, I don’t plan on slowing down. So, if you’ve got any must-watch British shows, feel free to drop them in the comments. My queue can always use some love.
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Hahaha, "“Did this fucker actually have a baby?”" really got me. I have been down this google hole with similar results - I vividly remember discovering my first love had had a child 10 years after we broke up, with his wife of five years, and thinking "how dare he?" Genuinely had a moment of outrage before remembering we were no longer together.
The Cheek! Love everything about this. And do you know how many times I have had to talk myself out of yoga teacher training?? 🫠