Saying Goodbye

This is it. I’m all packed and ready to move out of my apartment and into Ben’s. I mean, ours.

I’m sitting in my back yard for the last time, with a cup of coffee and my laptop. That’s not to say I won’t ever sit in this backyard again. I’m sure I will. But it won’t be my back yard. It will be Brad and Dena’s. It’s bittersweet. I know I’m moving in with the love of my life, and it’s going to be wonderful, and I’m going to eventually feel like it’s my place, too, but I love this apartment. It felt like home in a way that no other apartment ever did. And as much of a pain in the ass as he can be, I also loved having Brad as a roommate.

Last night, Brad and I shared our last beers and leftover pizza, and talked about the future.

“We’re still going to see each other, right?” I asked.

“Of course,” he assured me. “We’ll have happy hours, and you and Ben can come over for dinner…”

“And we’ll have you over to his place,” I said. “Uh, I mean, our place.”

Brad laughed. “Don’t worry, kid. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

As I drifted off to bed, my thoughts turned to Brad, and all the “Will they or won’t they?” moments we’ve had over the years. I know some of you have even wondered if, when all was said and done, Brad would be the last man standing for me. I think it’s good for both of our sakes that that didn’t happen. I imagine any relationship between the two of us would have flamed out pretty quickly, ended ugly, and resulted in our friendship being over.

Ben just texted. He’s on his way over. Then the movers come. This really is it. I’m excited to live with Ben, but also anxious. Where will I write and blog? How will we coordinate showers and getting ready in the morning? When will I poop? What if Ben’s DVR is programmed in such a way that I won’t be able to record Jersey Shore every week?

Deep breath, K. If these are the things you’re worried about, you’re in pretty good shape. You’re not wondering if he’s the right guy for you, or if you can trust him, or if you’re going to drive each other crazy.

Okay, I’m going to go walk through my apartment for the last time and say goodbye. And maybe steal one of Brad’s bananas. The next time you hear from me, I’ll have a different address. And I’ll probably be holed up in the spare bedroom, pretending to be doing something else.

Posted at 8:01 AM

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This is Goodbye...

“Well, what did you think?” The suspense was killing me.

“I think that I have a very talented fiancé who I will support always, but I probably think I can’t read the entire novel when you finish it. I’m pretty sure my balls shrank while I read the first 80 pages. And I might have started growing boobs.”

I laughed. “You’re such a dude sometimes, you know that?”

“I know. It’s gross. So, um, do you have a secret blog I don’t know about, like your fictional character who isn’t at all fictional?”

I hesitated.

“You do! How long have you had it for?”

“Six years.”

“Six years?! What do you write about?”

“My life.”

“Do you write about me?”

“Sometimes."

“Do I want to read it?”

“Probably not. Especially if you couldn’t handle 80 pages of my novel.”

“Do you want me to read it?”

“Not really.”

Luckily, Ben didn’t have any burning desire to read the blog. But he did have a lot of questions. Mostly about what I’d written about us, our sex life, our mini-breakup, whether the commenters liked him or not, and on and on. I answered all of his questions honestly, which made me feel like a giant weight had been lifted off of me.

“OK, one last question,” he began. “Do you call me by name?”

“I gave you a different name.”

“What was it?”

“Ben.”

“Ben?! Why would you name me Ben?”

“What would you have me call you?”

“I don’t know. Not Ben. Did you name me after Ben Affleck?”

“No. I really didn’t give the naming part that much thought, to be honest.”

Ben had some other “one last question” questions. But the last one was, in my opinion, the most important one.

“So now that you’re not anonymous anymore—at least not to me—are you going to keep blogging?”

“I think I’m definitely ready to take a nice, long break,” I said. “After all, I have a novel to finish and a wedding to plan. Who has time to blog on top of all of that?”

So I’m riding off into the sunset, ladies. These past six years have been amazing. You have all been amazing. Seriously. I’ve never seen such a committed, opinionated, insightful commenter community. You’ve made writing this blog a truly rewarding experience that I’ll never forget. Thanks for sticking with me in my quest for love, happiness and sanity, no matter how much I screwed up, or how much you wanted to grab me and give me a good shake sometimes.

xoxo,

Katherine (aka Kat)

P.S. Jessica Hulett would like to echo the sentiments of that last paragraph. If you want to stay in touch, you can do that here.

Find your date here

This is Goodbye...

“Well, what did you think?” The suspense was killing me.

“I think that I have a very talented fiancé who I will support always, but I probably think I can’t read the entire novel when you finish it. I’m pretty sure my balls shrank while I read the first 80 pages. And I might have started growing boobs.”

I laughed. “You’re such a dude sometimes, you know that?”

“I know. It’s gross. So, um, do you have a secret blog I don’t know about, like your fictional character who isn’t at all fictional?”

I hesitated.

“You do! How long have you had it for?”

“Six years.”

“Six years?! What do you write about?”

“My life.”

“Do you write about me?”

“Sometimes."

“Do I want to read it?”

“Probably not. Especially if you couldn’t handle 80 pages of my novel.”

“Do you want me to read it?”

“Not really.”

Luckily, Ben didn’t have any burning desire to read the blog. But he did have a lot of questions. Mostly about what I’d written about us, our sex life, our mini-breakup, whether the commenters liked him or not, and on and on. I answered all of his questions honestly, which made me feel like a giant weight had been lifted off of me.

“OK, one last question,” he began. “Do you call me by name?”

“I gave you a different name.”

“What was it?”

“Ben.”

“Ben?! Why would you name me Ben?”

“What would you have me call you?”

“I don’t know. Not Ben. Did you name me after Ben Affleck?”

“No. I really didn’t give the naming part that much thought, to be honest.”

Ben had some other “one last question” questions. But the last one was, in my opinion, the most important one.

“So now that you’re not anonymous anymore—at least not to me—are you going to keep blogging?”

“I think I’m definitely ready to take a nice, long break,” I said. “After all, I have a novel to finish and a wedding to plan. Who has time to blog on top of all of that?”

So I’m riding off into the sunset, ladies. These past six years have been amazing. You have all been amazing. Seriously. I’ve never seen such a committed, opinionated, insightful commenter community. You’ve made writing this blog a truly rewarding experience that I’ll never forget. Thanks for sticking with me in my quest for love, happiness and sanity, no matter how much I screwed up, or how much you wanted to grab me and give me a good shake sometimes.

xoxo,

Katherine (aka Kat)

P.S. Jessica Hulett would like to echo the sentiments of that last paragraph. If you want to stay in touch, you can do that here.

Find your date here

Saying Goodbye

This is it. I’m all packed and ready to move out of my apartment and into Ben’s. I mean, ours.

I’m sitting in my back yard for the last time, with a cup of coffee and my laptop. That’s not to say I won’t ever sit in this backyard again. I’m sure I will. But it won’t be my back yard. It will be Brad and Dena’s. It’s bittersweet. I know I’m moving in with the love of my life, and it’s going to be wonderful, and I’m going to eventually feel like it’s my place, too, but I love this apartment. It felt like home in a way that no other apartment ever did. And as much of a pain in the ass as he can be, I also loved having Brad as a roommate.

Last night, Brad and I shared our last beers and leftover pizza, and talked about the future.

“We’re still going to see each other, right?” I asked.

“Of course,” he assured me. “We’ll have happy hours, and you and Ben can come over for dinner…”

“And we’ll have you over to his place,” I said. “Uh, I mean, our place.”

Brad laughed. “Don’t worry, kid. You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”

As I drifted off to bed, my thoughts turned to Brad, and all the “Will they or won’t they?” moments we’ve had over the years. I know some of you have even wondered if, when all was said and done, Brad would be the last man standing for me. I think it’s good for both of our sakes that that didn’t happen. I imagine any relationship between the two of us would have flamed out pretty quickly, ended ugly, and resulted in our friendship being over.

Ben just texted. He’s on his way over. Then the movers come. This really is it. I’m excited to live with Ben, but also anxious. Where will I write and blog? How will we coordinate showers and getting ready in the morning? When will I poop? What if Ben’s DVR is programmed in such a way that I won’t be able to record Jersey Shore every week?

Deep breath, K. If these are the things you’re worried about, you’re in pretty good shape. You’re not wondering if he’s the right guy for you, or if you can trust him, or if you’re going to drive each other crazy.

Okay, I’m going to go walk through my apartment for the last time and say goodbye. And maybe steal one of Brad’s bananas. The next time you hear from me, I’ll have a different address. And I’ll probably be holed up in the spare bedroom, pretending to be doing something else.

Posted at 8:01 AM

Find your date here

The Goodbye Blues

Mitchell left for Chicago yesterday, and Ben was left feeling pretty bummed out. Last night, I decided to take advantage of an empty house (Brad is in D.C. for work), and make him a fancy dinner to cheer him up.

After spending my entire lunch break looking up recipes online, I decided to go half-decadent and half-healthy: spicy lamb burgers in whole wheat pita with yogurt sauce, oven fries, and a green salad with a lemon vinaigrette. When he arrived, the burgers had just gone into the pan, and the fries had been roasting for about 20 minutes.

“It smells amazing in here,” he said, brandishing a bottle of rosé and giving me a lingering kiss.

“Let’s hope it tastes as good as it smells,” I said.

I had set the picnic table in the backyard with a nice tablecloth, candles and a sunflower in a vase. Ben played around with Spotify on my laptop while I cooked.

“You better not be filling up my Spotify with sensitive indie rock!” I yelled from the kitchen.

“You need something to balance out all the Katy Perry and Pink!” he yelled back.

When the food was done, I shooed him off my laptop (and vowed to unstar all of the sensitive indie rock he’d added to my library), and ushered him outside. Luckily, the food did taste as good as it smelled. Ben seemed pleased, but still bummed out.

“How are you doing?” I asked, mid-fry.

“I’m okay,” he said, unconvincingly. “I just really thought Mitchell was going to stay, and that he and Ursula would get back together, and everything would go back to the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Maybe that’s not the way it’s supposed to be,” I said gently. He nodded, in a way that said he knew I was right, but wasn’t happy about it.

“So I have a week off before I start the new job,” he began. “I was thinking of going out to Chicago. Do you think you could come?”

“I could probably swing the weekend, with maybe an extra day? I definitely can’t take a whole week off with less than a month’s notice. Plus, our cable special is due that week, and we’ll probably have a few late nights leading up to it.”

Ben looked disappointed, but didn’t push it. Suddenly, his cell phone, which was out on the table, vibrated. He picked it up, read and sighed.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Ursula.” Then he began reading the text out loud. “Would it be messed up for me to go on a date with Neil? He won’t stop asking, and he’s starting to wear me down.”

“Oh dear,” I said.

“Yeah. Remember when Mitchell said that he wasn’t worried because Neil didn’t have a chance?” I nodded. “That was pretty hilarious, huh?”

After dinner, we moved into the living room. I was debating whether or not to start putting the moves on Ben, when he interrupted my thoughts.

“K.? Would it be okay if we just went to sleep tonight? I just don’t think I’m up for it right now.”

I suspected that I could have changed his mind, but I didn’t try. His best friend just moved across the country, and clearly he needs time to process that. For once, I didn’t even take it personally! For the record, I really don’t think Ursula should date Neil. That just has “messy” written all over it.

Posted at 7:01 AM

Find your date here

The Goodbye Blues

Mitchell left for Chicago yesterday, and Ben was left feeling pretty bummed out. Last night, I decided to take advantage of an empty house (Brad is in D.C. for work), and make him a fancy dinner to cheer him up.

After spending my entire lunch break looking up recipes online, I decided to go half-decadent and half-healthy: spicy lamb burgers in whole wheat pita with yogurt sauce, oven fries, and a green salad with a lemon vinaigrette. When he arrived, the burgers had just gone into the pan, and the fries had been roasting for about 20 minutes.

“It smells amazing in here,” he said, brandishing a bottle of rosé and giving me a lingering kiss.

“Let’s hope it tastes as good as it smells,” I said.

I had set the picnic table in the backyard with a nice tablecloth, candles and a sunflower in a vase. Ben played around with Spotify on my laptop while I cooked.

“You better not be filling up my Spotify with sensitive indie rock!” I yelled from the kitchen.

“You need something to balance out all the Katy Perry and Pink!” he yelled back.

When the food was done, I shooed him off my laptop (and vowed to unstar all of the sensitive indie rock he’d added to my library), and ushered him outside. Luckily, the food did taste as good as it smelled. Ben seemed pleased, but still bummed out.

“How are you doing?” I asked, mid-fry.

“I’m okay,” he said, unconvincingly. “I just really thought Mitchell was going to stay, and that he and Ursula would get back together, and everything would go back to the way it’s supposed to be.”

“Maybe that’s not the way it’s supposed to be,” I said gently. He nodded, in a way that said he knew I was right, but wasn’t happy about it.

“So I have a week off before I start the new job,” he began. “I was thinking of going out to Chicago. Do you think you could come?”

“I could probably swing the weekend, with maybe an extra day? I definitely can’t take a whole week off with less than a month’s notice. Plus, our cable special is due that week, and we’ll probably have a few late nights leading up to it.”

Ben looked disappointed, but didn’t push it. Suddenly, his cell phone, which was out on the table, vibrated. He picked it up, read and sighed.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Ursula.” Then he began reading the text out loud. “Would it be messed up for me to go on a date with Neil? He won’t stop asking, and he’s starting to wear me down.”

“Oh dear,” I said.

“Yeah. Remember when Mitchell said that he wasn’t worried because Neil didn’t have a chance?” I nodded. “That was pretty hilarious, huh?”

After dinner, we moved into the living room. I was debating whether or not to start putting the moves on Ben, when he interrupted my thoughts.

“K.? Would it be okay if we just went to sleep tonight? I just don’t think I’m up for it right now.”

I suspected that I could have changed his mind, but I didn’t try. His best friend just moved across the country, and clearly he needs time to process that. For once, I didn’t even take it personally! For the record, I really don’t think Ursula should date Neil. That just has “messy” written all over it.

Posted at 7:01 AM

Find your date here