With every rejection, I realize what was meant to be, and what was not.

With every acceptance, I find somewhere that is willing to take a chance on me, somewhere that believes of what I can achieve.

With every letter I get in the mail, I am one step closer to my future, to finding out who I am.

Everyday it gets easier. As my wrinkles soften and my nails grow out, I begin to accept the course of my life and deal with what is given to me. Today, I got into SEATTLE UNIVERSITY. Hmmm… Seattle………… When I think of Seattle, I think of Tom Hanks racing through the Empire State building taking his son into his arms, I think of trendy graphic designers rocking out on the bass with their fashion forward Asian drummer girlfriends, and I think of eccentric independent coffee houses covered wall to wall with multicolored piano lesson ads and miscellaneous band fliers.

Seattle sounds enticing, a whole new world of grunge music, hobo fashion, and aspiring writers.

What more can you ask for?

Laura Marianne

“I wanted to move to Seattle, sell my ass, and be a punk rocker, but I was too afraid.”

– Kurt Cobain

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We like to think that ending up alone isn’t the end of the world: women force themselves to be The Independent Woman and men lie to themselves pretending to be The Ultimate Bachelor. However, from hooking up casually, to falling hard,  to getting dumped, we dissect our relationships, taking in every casual glance or hand gesture, trying to find a way for them to last.

As we grow older, and our beauty fades away, we are faced with the harsh reality that our personalities might not be enough for our “happily ever after”. So from a young age, we engulf ourselves in the tangled webs of love, dating, and the opposite (or same) sex. So I ask you, are we all really okay ending up alone? Or do we all just explain ourselves into relationships for the sake of being in a relationship?

For all those non Frenchies, the above title says: It’s better to be alone than in bad company. Sure, it seems easy to say that we’d rather be alone than date someone who you know is wrong for you, but like almost everything, it is easier said than done. The greatest fear for a woman is ending up alone with her twelve cats, dying in her sleep on either Tuesday or Wednesday because no one really knew… Except her cats of course. So instead, we fake it. We fake intimacy, love, orgasms, breasts, just to feel loved. If you really like someone, should you have to fake your orgasms? If you don’t really like someone but are afraid of being alone, is it right to fake intimacy?

A recently married friend of mine just told me “It’s better to marry someone who loves you more than you love them.” And she’s right, we don’t go out to find passionate head-over-heels, can’t-live-without-each other love, we search for comfortable showering-with-compliments love. Yes, love is a two way street, but hopefully on your side there are two lanes to welcome the love, instead of just one. This way, the ego is soothed and the end could still be “happily ever after”.

The Independent Woman and Ultimate Bachelor to the rescue!!!!

The Independent Woman and Ultimate Bachelor to the rescue!!!!

But for now, fake it ’till you make it,

Laura Marianne

“Charlotte: If I end up old and alone it’s all your fault.

Samantha: Charlotte, sweetie, we’re all alone even when we’re with men.”

Sex and the City, “They Shoot Single People, Don’t They?”, 1999

“Her heart did whisper that he had done it for her. But it was a hope shortly checked by other considerations, and she soon felt that even her vanity was insufficient, when required to depend on his affection for her— for a woman who had already refused him— as able to overcome a sentiment so natural as abhorrence against relationship with Wickham.”

– Jane Austen

Take me back to those times, to times when unintentional glances were the beginnings of an epic romance, where subtle concise vocabulary determined whether you were  admired or not. Now you think you’re in love when you are described as “hot”. Back in the day being romanced was not about just buying a dozen red roses as the local grocery store and a cheap Walgreens chocolate heart. It was about feeling wanted in a simple and sophisticated way. All romance is today is just a movie genre and an excuse for Hallmark’s existence.

Back in the time of Dukes and Duchesses, of detailed gowns and exuberant jewelery, of seven course meals and extravagant balls, everything just seemed more romantic. Electricity had yet to be invented, so dark rooms were lightened by candlelight as it shimmered off the room’s occupants’ flesh.  Today, in a time of guys and chicks, of mini skirts and tongue piercings, of half a dozen tequila shots and jam-packed nightclubs, things have changed. At sunset, the horndogs come out and our vision becomes impaired in dark rooms brightened by electric lights, blinding our eyes and our senses. With each others tongue down our throats, we have yet to realize the near extinction of romance.

 Lady Georgiana Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire by Thomas Gainsborough

Lady Georgiana Cavendish, Duchess of Devonshire by Thomas Gainsborough

However, the seventeenth century carried with it mischievous lies and cruel affairs. Condemned to eternal unhappiness through fixed marriages, most found comfort in a different bed than their spouses’. Then again, is that really any different than today?

I’ll take the good with the bad.

Take me back,

Laura Marianne

“She’d stopped reading the kind of women’s magazine that talked about romance and knitting, and started reading the kind of women’s magazine that talked about orgasms, but apart from making a mental note to have one if ever the occasion presented itself she dismissed them as only romance and knitting in a new form.”

– Terry Pratchett, Good Omens, 1990

It’s self preservation. Everyone for themselves because it’s a dog eat dog world out there. Why put your heart out into the vulnerable world of love, if you know very well it’s just going to be ripped to pieces? It’s a suicide mission yet everyday people take the chance, they fall hoping someone will catch them. And I’ll tell ya, you’re one of the lucky ones if you don’t fall flat on your face.

Break my heart, baby, Ill love you for it.

Break my heart, baby, I'll love you for it.

We stick our hand in the dark hole, not knowing what’s in there, expecting the worst yet hoping for the best. Inevitably, our hand gets bitten off by the unknown. And the paradox is that with one hand gone, we stick the other right back in the dark hole again.

Why do we always hope for the best though? I mean once you learn that nothing good will come of it, why try again?

We say “never again” and “I learned from my mistakes”, but come Monday, and the pain of the weekend has washed away, those feelings wash away as well. We think, well it wasn’t that bad right? What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger?! Pah, whoever said that certainly was never in love.

Don’t we ever learn?

Laura Marianne

“Here’s my philosophy on dating. It’s important to have somebody that can make you laugh, somebody you can trust, somebody that, y’know, turns you on… And it’s really, really important that these three people don’t know each other.”

– Brooke Davis, One Tree Hill

Slut. Skank. Whore. Absinthe. Mini dress. Thigh high boots. Silver lipstick. Bare back. Trashy.Drugs and Alcohol

Let’s go crazy, let’s be free. Do what you want, because that’s all that really matters anyway. Why care about everyone else? They have their own lives to worry about. And you have yours, and I have mine. The big city is my destiny. New York. London. Paris.But not San Francisco. This town is just too homosexual. I need myself some bright lights and long nights. Shine those LED club lights in my eyes, and blind me for minutes at a time. Let’s catch up with some old friends, Jose, Johnny, and Jim. And maybe flirt with some new ones.

Sleepless nights are always my favorites. I hope and wish to wake up with an ear splitting headache because then I know I’ve done my best. Remembering the previous nights or not is always the biggest challenge. We get to go back through the adventure of the rampant night. The sweet alcohol breath kiss, the Urban Decay Asphyxia eyeshadow melting down my cheeks, the vintage slip falling off my shoulder, and the runs in my brand new Ralph Lauren sheer stockings. There’s something romantic about trashy, forgetful nights.

Contemplate that druggies,

Laura Marianne

“Las Vegas looks the way you’d imagine heaven must look at night”

– Chuck Palahniuk (American fiction novelist and freelance journalist)