Guys and girls cannot be "friends"....

In my 8 years of dating I have never been "friends" with an ex, or even a boy I liked.  Even more recently, when my ex of three-years decided to dump me for an "older' woman, I have shut down his attempts at salvaging a friendship with me. There is no such thing as being just friends (especially after being cheated on). and this article convinced me that attempting any type of friendship with a romantic interest is like a slow-motion execution. But all that changed since i met S..

S was like a brief fling ( that didn't involve sex). He and I met in January in our IT class, and after about a month, he asked me out. I never knew how he had felt about me, but from his attempts to convince me (while drunk)  how certain he was we would be a great couple together. I accepted.

It was romantic (?) how he went about asking me out, almost unconventional. One of those Fridays when a few friends from class decided to get-together and go play billiards, S., decided to get himself completely wasted on beer and hard liquor. Never mind that he was Muslim, and that he was a  chain-smoker, but he felt that liquid courage was the sort of thing that would win a girl like me. Well, he was right. And at the end of the night, he convinced me enough on the subway ride home that we would work out.

But we didn't.

After one Friday night out with friends, and us making out in the lobby of my apartment, I ran my mouth and said something that made him reconsider ever having a relationship with me. And yes, he did say we could be "friends".

And now, because he still wanted us to be friends, I have to endure seeing him in class everyday and pretend nothing ever happened between us. Do I want to be friends? Yes and no.

Yes, because for some stupid uncontrollable reason  I developed feelings for him. No, because being friend-zoned is one of the most horrible feelings on this planet.

What's it's like to be a "shopaholic"

When you Google the word "shopaholic", this pops up-

" a compulsive shopper"

Of course, the popular search engine forgot to mention that being a shopaholic meant a euphoric high compared to the pull of say, heroin and coke, wherein dresses and heels are at your complete disposal, and the accompanying price tag are merely numbers that one conquer with a high credit card limit... but I digress.

Fact: I love shopping. More so when I am under emotional stress and the only thing aside from mind-blowing sex is the attraction of  new seasonal clothes (yes! florals are in now) and imagining my body in a dress far outweigh the subsequent of paying back thousands of dollars. And that's what I did. Four credit cards and a month after, I ran up a total of $2400+ chump change... I felt like your modern-day Rebecca Bloomwood.

Rebecca is the main character in the "Shopahoics Series" by Sophia Kinsella. Or, if you just want, you can go right to the movie. Isla Fischer was fantastic in that role, and her red tresses were to die for.

It was like a dream. To become the heroine I used to admire in your favorite novels because I know modern-day "feminists" are no longer worthy of emulation. For once, I was living in my fairy tale, accessorized with my plastic cards, and the world was my oyster. And who knew swiping cards would be so, so, fun?  One swipe, Michael Kors Large Hamilton Bag in black and white, two swipes, Guess Black Multi-Leather Igora Heels (sz 8M), and the list went on and on....

Splayed throughout my 1000 sq. feet apartment floor, I had a dozen pair of shoes ( in case you're devastatingly curious, I'm a Guess girl), new dresses still in their plastic bindings, suits and jackets and  a brand- new red Calvin Klein red coat I had gotten from my local Nordstrom Rack. 

I am happy for the stuff i had brought, yet I'm equally unhappy about my circumstances. Money really can't buy long term happiness. It can numb the pain a little bit offering a distraction but when I got a clear head, I realized I got an addiction.