He was the original love of my life. The first. Never had I ever felt that way before.

This ends the way it usually does (if you’re me): he broke my heart.

Not long ago I ran into him and it as 2009 again. I immediately missed MySpace. I’m that old, but not that old. The perfect age. 

I ranked in his Top 8, spot number 4 to be exact – 2 spots above the woman he would eventually marry. 

I wrote this passage when I was trying to be poetic about my naivety, and maybe get noticed by a magazine. 

But that would require some sort of structure and my life doesn’t have that. My rigid schedule and Type A personality would suggest otherwise. But those are just symptoms.

My chaos is a product of what a professional therapist would call “an emotionally abusive mother.” Every romantic long-term relationship I’ve been in has mirrored the one I had with my mom, and it’s what led me here today: a rocky marriage where I spent the first decade trying to decipher what was wrong with me that my husband would cheat or be a jerk at random.

I have an idea, but we’ll get there.

Of course, my social media showed a different story. And I wasn’t the only one.

I live in a town where image is everything, but only to the people who believe they have one to uphold. And this town is too small and podunk to qualify for Real Housewives, so I don’t see the point if there’s no reunion special with Andy Cohen.

The only thing weirder than the pretend reality show is the drama.

Last week, a woman I know went on a tirade because she thought my friends and I were spreading a rumor that her trainer is a dealer for Ozempic.

Ok but she is. The dealer said it herself on social media. And no one said this particular woman was taking it. We just said she’s hanging with the beauty drug cartel. Who cares?

BTW, for years rumors have swirled about her being a swinger. Allegedly, her friend had to resign from her job because their swinger club was taking over the office.

And she doesn’t argue it. But Ozempic? THAT! That’s where she draws the line.

I’m not going to dispute to her irrational fears. It guarantees she won’t try to recruit me into her cult of unemployed swingers. This isn’t the economy for it.

When I moved here, I felt incredibly inadequate. It was like those creepy gummy bear commercials: I was dressed in adult attire but was talking and acting like a 5-year-old. Except it was worse – my clothes weren’t designer.

But I’ve learned that those feelings of being defective were unnecessary. It turns out, we’re all various levels of ridiculous. Nobody knows anything, and everything is pretend. 

Take my Sis’s (AKA my bestie) cousin, Alisabeth. The other day she posted a TikTok stating that she was nothing but peace. The day before that, she’d gotten into a screaming match with her mom because she got an IV drip instead of paying her mom the $300 she owes her. One time she called the cops on her “connect” because he stiffed her on $100 worth of ketamine. I mean, yeah, he was stealing but…

Alisabeth is pure chaos. And just yesterday, Sis tells me she landed an $80K/year accounting job after spending the last 7 months making TikTok videos and getting her ex-boyfriend to pay her bills the entire time. And her experience from the trail of jobs she’s gotten fired from isn’t what got her hired. Her accounting certificate from a school that no longer exists did that.

In this case, her new employer is the one who doesn’t know anything. 

Everyone’s life includes some insanity, yet what drives people insane is pretending that it’s perfect.

I know this because I tried myself. And it wasn’t until I got honest about my life and situation that I as able to breathe again.

And I use that air to share my stories with anyone who will listen. It’s not as revered as sharing Instagram quotes but at least these are my own so I can share them with some dignity. 

Of course, they’re all pretty bad and I share other stories aside from my own so I’m not sure how much dignity is in that. But we all need to feel less alone these days so I’m talking.

Get a regular dose of tea here at The Undergram. Talk soon!