In which Miley Cyrus makes me sad

This gem of a performance at the VMA’s happened on my last night in Chicago. My friend K, who came with me on the road trip to Cali, and I, sat at our friend’s apartment, watching for the anticipated and sorely disappointing 15-second ‘N Sync reunion.

Anyway. The next day, K and I embarked on the road trip that would bring me to my new home, Orange County. We got here on a Friday. Monday was Labor Day. I dropped her off at LAX for her flight home and then went home and took a nap before my date with Bachelor #1. And thinking about all of this makes me sad, and Miley Cyrus is an instant trigger to all of this.

I moved out here for my job, which I completely love. What I do NOT love is how badly I misjudged the situations with Bachelor’s 1 and 3, and how I came on this journey not expecting to meet anyone because I was essentially moving to a big suburb and in the matter of a very short time had my hands full in a way I could not handle.

What I do not love is the constant frustration I feel that B1 is back with his ex, B3 dropped off the face of the planet, my new crush, C, has no interest in me, and I feel generally like a troll surrounded by happy couples. It’s not that I can’t be happy being single, it’s that this triple middle finger I’ve gotten in 2014 is slightly demoralizing. And triggered by Miley Cyrus.


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