From Sucking to Success

My first comedy open mic in LA, reminded me of the expectations vs reality of a middle school dance. You’re pumped and get all glammed up, but once you’re there, you feel awkward, are afraid to talk to the boys, and forget how to dance.

It all started by finding the location of a LA open mic online. I showed up early to secure a spot on stage. The only other person there was a guy who is the definition of a California surfer bro. 

He had bleach blonde hair that looked like it hadn’t been brushed in weeks, a baggy shirt, and talked like Totally Kyle from Nickelodeon. 10 minutes later, another guy showed up saying the open mic was not happening, and we were given the location of another one close by. 

I show up to the new location alone, in a sketchy part of town, and asked the first person I saw where the open mic was. 

He shrugged and said “Down that alley maybe?” 

His response sounded as promising as an intoxicated sorority girl trying to put together a piece of Ikea furniture. I trusted him anyways.  

As I turned the corner to proceed down the dark alley, I thought… “Well, if this is where I die, at least I gave this thing called life a pretty good run.” 

I saw a small crowed of men outside an open door and instantly felt like I got another 50 to 60 years added back onto my life. 

After signing up for a spot, I looked around to start introducing myself and befriend some fellow comedians. 

This however, is LA, and apparently the whole socializing thing is different in this part of town. Every time I made eye contact with one of the guys, they would look away as if it was a mistake. 

My new surfer friend showed up, and as he approached I said “We made it!” 

I’m aware I could have said something cooler, but I was just happy to talk to a person who didn’t seem afraid or too good for me. 

Almost instantly, another guy approached surfer dude and asked him how he was while completely ignoring my existence. 

“I’m good too, thanks for asking.” I said, playfully.

I then introduced myself. Whatever the opposite of love at first site is, was how I felt about him. Noted: We will not be friends. 

I walk into the comedy club. It looked cool esthetically, yet I felt cold. The energy was dense. Although I wasn’t nervous at that point, I was uncomfortable.

No-one seemed mean, but they didn’t seem particularly nice either. I had been warned about the cutthroat entertainment industry in LA, and now I felt it.  

Fast forward to me moments before I was called on stage. My breathing started to speed up and I could feel my heart beat under my black, strapless, velvet dress. Was I overdressed? Yes. Did it look cute though? Also yes. 

I felt nervous which is unusual for me before a show, but given my current state of being, it made sense. Once I grabbed the mic, I calmed down because the stage is my second home. Yet, twice on stage I forgot what I was going to say, which has almost never happened to me before! I covered it up well, but it left me shook. 

Not to my surprise, I didn’t receive the positive response I’m used to getting. It also didn’t help that the guy directly in front of me smiled as much as a Russian man who ran out of alcohol before he got a buzz. I brushed my shoulders off, and went outside shortly after my set. 

Here’s where it starts to get good.

I went back into the alley and began talking with a cute model/actor boy. Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a smile that would melt any heart. That said, his personality wasn’t enough to keep him around, even though he asked for my number and tried to see me this weekend. Mild flex, but I’m proud that I still got it at 30 years old. 

Here’s where it gets better! 

I didn’t let my uncomfortable and underwhelming first open mic prevent me from attending a different open mic the following day. Persevering is powerful! 

The next day, I had a successful and well received performance and met much more welcoming comedians. 

My first open mic toughened my skin and the second one softened my heart. Your past experiences don’t dictate your future ones. Life will make you stronger if you let it! 

Keep trying and put yourself out there. 

My Biggest Investment

For those of you who have been following my journey, you already know my life has kind of been like that meme of baby Yoda all teary-eyed, with the caption “When you think you’ve healed that part of you, but the world throws you a curve ball.” but then, like a fucking beast, I somehow manage to wipe the tears, put on a smile, and get better at catching the ball next time. Well, life just threw me a massive curveball. It scared the shit out of me, but here’s how I’m going to catch it.

I’ve been saving nearly half of my pay check every month for a rainy day. Then it rains, and instead of buying a new umbrella, I’ve been taking out my broken one, patched up with duck tape, leaking from every side. Obviously, that’s a metaphor, although my grandfather legitimately used to duck-tape the holes on his umbrella.

Well, no more of that. I’m investing quite a bit of money, and it’s going towards the most important thing in anyones life. Themselves. I’m hiring a personal boxing coach, a business coach, new decor and plants for my home, art supplies, not holding back as much when I go out to eat or shop with friends, weekend getaway trips, and the list goes on. Mind you, I have been working hard to have the means to do this. I’m not telling you to brake the bank and test your luck in Vegas.

In short, you can’t pour from an empty cup, and sometimes the best way to fill it is to go and buy some water (Or champagne, whatever floats your boat) instead of walking miles to a dirty well. Investing in yourself doesn’t have to be lavish or expensive, but it does have to be done if you want to make the best of the life you’re living. Other ways you could invest in yourself is taking a nice relaxing bubble bath or painting your toe nails. I say that mainly because it’s on the forefront of my mind because I’m still sweaty from the gym and I so desperately need a pedicure right now.

Nothing in your life will come easily if you yourself are not at ease. Our lives are an external reflection of our internal world, so what’s even more important than buying all of these things is getting your mind ready for them. How are you going to invest in yourself?

I’m Going To Break His Heart

I’m in a pickle. I have to break someone’s heart and I don’t know how. I don’t want to, but there’s no way to go around it if I want to live my life with honestly and integrity. The last thing I want to do is ignore the guy. Being ghosted by someone you like is such a mind fuck, I might as well tell him the truth.

I’ve known him for several months now, but the last three weeks, we’ve gotten closer… not just emotionally. For anonymity and clarity, we will call him #61. The problem isn’t that I only want to sleep with a guy that I think will lead to marriage. If you’ve read some of my other blog posts, you probably could have figured that one out. The problem is, continuing this path will be me repeating an old toxic pattern that I refuse to relive.

Four years ago, I was in an on again off again “situationship” that lasted 6 months until I ended things for good. We will call him #20. He wanted to be my boyfriend and I was like… Nah, I’ll pass, but I’m down to keep doing what we’re doing. (I used a different choice of words at the time, but you get the idea.) #20 bent over backwards for me, while I took like one of those kids who pours all the fucking candy in their bag on Halloween when the basket on the doorstep says “Take ONE.” He was so much more invested and I knew it. It felt wrong, so I would end it in a “We can still be friends” way. It wouldn’t take long before we Netflix and chilled, and you can fill in the blank. It ended on good terms, but it still resulted in him moving to a different city the following day.

Not every “situationship” is that way. There’s another guy, #57, who does a lot for me too. He also puts his hands around my neck, and I like it if you catch my drift. Yet, there’s a similar investment and understanding. There’s a mutual satisfaction and expectation. For the record, they’re not just numbers, I genuinely like these people. I just think it’s pretty funny.

#61 is so sweet, caring, and sensitive. He wants nothing more than to love and be loved. I want nothing more than that for both of us, but not with each other. He wants to do things for me, hang out with me, and talk to me all the time. However, we are on totally different pages. If I’m being honest, I am also 99.8% sure that if things continue this way, he will soon start annoying me pretty consistently. I will certainly leave that out when I talk to him later this week.

Not only that, but I feel my brain shifting back to my #20 days when I’d wonder if he could do or help me with x, y, or z, anytime I didn’t feel like doing it myself. This week, I’ve needed a lot of help with transportation, technology and more, but I’ve grown, and intentionally outsourced help elsewhere. I grit my teeth as I read his text the other day saying “If there is anything I can do to help lemme know. The pleasure of helping you always feels good.” I then sighed as I looked up at the sky and thought “Bruh, really?”

I don’t want to be that person. I don’t want to take advantage of anyone. I don’t want relationships that are imbalanced, or to have guilt or fear of where things will go. I also hate this feeling of secrecy I have from not having told him how I feel. Is this what a day in the life of Elsa was like before her sister knew her powers?

I want to have people in my life that enhance my wellbeing and vice versa. I want to feel wanted, but want to want them back just the same. I want an equal investment of energy, and I can’t give him that which he deserves just as much.

I know ending things will not be easy. He’s so sensitive, and I know how hurt he will be. Yet, I’m not going to consciously waste my life repeating patterns that don’t serve anyone. I will be honest, empathetic, and do what I can to have him understand and accept the outcome. I would never want to leave him guessing what went wrong, and have him blame himself. Sometimes being honest feels wrong, but it’s always right.

My Three Biggest Insecurities

I think it’s safe to say, having insecurities is something we can all relate to. I don’t know why I feel so inclined to talk about my biggest insecurities, but I have a feeling this will make people laugh, and by the end, leave you feeling inspired. Not to mention, I’ll roast the shit out of myself, and who wouldn’t want to hear that? Without further ado, here are my three biggest insecurities.

Let’s start with my hair. Rather than my hair, I should say lack thereof. It’s so damn thin, I’m one hair pull away from looking like Danny DeVito. I brush my hair as carefully as Gollum polishing off his precious ring to avoid losing a single strand. Sometimes, I’m convinced I’m watching that scene in The Lord of The Rings when I see my reflection in the bathroom mirror first thing in the morning.

However, looking back, I remember one of my biggest insecurities growing up was my hair itself. I hated the way it looked, and straitened it for so many years that most people had no idea what my real hair actually looked like. Now, I love my Jew curls, and wish I could have seen the beauty in it then. I also wish I could see more of the beauty in whatever left of it I have now.

Next, we have my back. Sounds strange in theory, but it’s not when I’m walking in front of you, now looking like a mix between Danny DeVito and Jessica Simpson… During her pregnancy. There’s this tiny accumulation of fat in my mid to upper back that makes it seem as though I’m about to sprout wings. If I’m not careful, I’ll be able to fly myself back to the US for the holidays. At least I’d save some money. Maybe I’m being a little extra with that statement. I’m not waddling around like Eric Cartman right after Halloween or anything. It’s just not cute, and the thought of exposing my back in a bikini makes my wings shudder from nerves.

Yet, who’s to say it’s not cute? I remember seeing two girls in bikinis at a river while I was with a guy I had spent the last few weeks traveling with. One of the girls looked like she was just on the cover of Vogue Magazine. I said “Damn, look at her body!” He asked who I was referring too, and responded to my answer with “I like her friends body better.” To her side, was a girl who had a little belly, curves, and a relatable back roll. Nothing wrong with any of that, but I wasn’t expecting him to have that response while standing next to such a bombshell. He had little to no interest in miss wingless Vogue Cover Girl.

Lastly, (not actually last, but for the sake of time it is.) we have my mouth. Not my literal mouth. People pay to have lips as fat as mine. I’m taking about my inability to shut the fuck up sometimes. If I get excited or nervous, I’ll talk your ear off. Filters no longer exist and I’ll be sounding like an auctioneer in no time.

To be honest though, that’s an insecurity I’ve been embracing. Yes, at times it can get a bit out of control, but it’s a gift. I have the gift of gab, and I’d rather have to learn to reel it in sometimes, than not have such a gift at all.

All of those things we call insecurities now, will either continue, or be replaced with the next part of us that we choose to negativity focus on. That is, until we decide throw our middle fingers up and say fuck what the world has programmed us to accept about ourselves. All of what we call “shortcomings” are illusions and become accomplishments once we overcome them. It’s all a gift.

There is nothing wrong with me. There is nothing wrong with you. The insecurities we perceive were created by our past because we didn’t know any better at the time, and that’s okay. You’re not alone. Now, we know better. So lets start rewriting our stories.

From Ghosting to Haunting me

You know what sucks? Sleeping with someone on the first date because you’re hoping the dick will make up for their personality, and then you realize it’s worse. The worst part is when you hug goodbye, and they say “See you later!” Really?? I seriously hope not. I don’t want him to get Coronavirus and die or anything, but please don’t try to talk to me again. Thankfully, that hasn’t happened much, but it’s certainly occurred. However, I will tell you a story even worse than that.

I went on a date, and right off the bat, we were clearly not compatible. It was like a guy from Tiger King trying to hold a conversation with someone who has common sense. He wanted to turn almost everything into a debate, and he was kind of a dick. Turns out, I like dicks though. So, after a few hours and drinks, we go back to his place because he was a douchebag and I have daddy issues.

He invited me to spend the night, and said it was the first time he let a girl sleep over his place. I took it as a compliment, assuming he was a heterosexual male and wasn’t having guys over like a gay Hugh Hefner. The next morning, I hugged him goodbye and said, “See you later!” because the dick was indeed significantly better than his personality. I looked at his face and I was all too familiar with his expression. I knew what he was thinking…. Really?? I don’t want her to get coronavirus and die or anything, but … Needless to say, he pretty much ghosted me, and I was slightly salty about it.

I remember during my stumble of pride home, (I prefer to say that instead of walk of shame.) I thought about how awesome his apartment was. The view was beautiful, perfect location, and great interior. My internal dialogue went something like “Damn, I wish I lived there. Well, who knows, I’m sure there’s a place I can move into when my lease is up that I like just as much, and maybe cheaper.”

When time came for me to move, I posted on a Hanoi housing Facebook group, and instantly was contacted by a woman who I made plans to meet for a showing the following day. She gave me the directions and it seemed almost as familiar as that guys expression after I said “See you later!” I will call that guy Daddy Alex for anonymity which isn’t too far off from what his name is in my WhatsApp contact list.

You know what apartment I just moved into? You guessed it. Not only am I in the same building, but I’m in his old apartment. So, he may have seemed good for nothing, but at least he let me give my apartment a test ride. (PS I got a discounted rate due to the pandemic and the Jew in me is thrilled.)

Here’s the catch. Come to find out, he moved right next door so he could have an apartment with a porch. Daddy Alex went from ghosting me to haunting me. I’d be lying if I said it didn’t bother me that he hasn’t tried to make a move. Especially considering he’s still single and has brought a girl back to his place before. Can’t really complain when I get more ass than him though. I could easily have been in his room tonight. It also bothers me to admit I’d give him a 5 star rating for his cuddling abilities alone. I would never tell him that because his ego seems bigger than the food baby I get after I go to a vegan buffet.

He’s initiated conversations a few times since I moved in a month ago. I dropped some subtle hints that I’m here for a good time, not a long time, but still nothing. I wish there was a way he could know that I’m not looking to go on long walks on the beach, just a night in his sheets… Or two or three.

As much as my ego and other parts of me want that, this very well could be for the best. Although you never know what could happen, I can see that scenario easily not ending well. If I can manifest that apartment for a better deal, I can find me a man that’s a better fit.