Cuffing Season is well under production and while some of us are boo’d up at least until the initial season of Westworld ends, the remainder of us are out here living the single life. And for most, it’s not that damn bad.
Your botched bangs are finally growing out.
Your skin is clearer than it’s ever been in months.
Your butt is something a peach wish it could make an emoji out of.
For the first time in a long, work makes sense and you’re completely focused on your career.
You’re closer than ever to the people who matter most and genuinely want the best.
Life. is. lit. Although lit is a term that could kind of go, but it just works.
Considering things are good and can’t go down faster than the upcoming state of America heels on New Year’s Eve, you’re okay with the idea of entertaining a companion of sorts. That is, until THEY arrive.
That’s right–you know them, I know them, and we ALL hate them.
Overall when it comes to reading advice on being forever alone single, dealing with men and dating/relationship advice, it normally goes in one little drunken ear and out the other.
Which the fact that I don’t pay much attention to any of these is most likely my problem today.
I just prefer to let life be the real teacher. Nothing can teach you like the experience of your own. And from random conversations with that one aunt.
While being told that wearing more camisoles and brightly colored cardigans will make you appear more friendly and less intimidating to latch you a man are eyeroll worthy, the advice columns about break-ups are usually the ones that are the fucking worst. Sure, some can be inspiring or thought provoking, but then there are others that troll in with advice like:
EAT YOUR FEELINGS
SPILL ALL THE DETAILS OF THE BREAK-UP
TAKE A SUPER WILD TRIP WITH YOUR GIRLFRIENDS
and the goddamn Nickelback worst:
GET UNDER A NEW GUY TO GET OVER THE OLD ONE
Now, I almost wish that this person that recently made news read at LEAST that hot mess bundle of advice, because she clearly didn’t read the ones that were for sane people. Let’s just call her….Felicia.
That’s 121,669 shades of NO DAMN MA’AM. In a span of seven days.
You should call NO ONE 77,639 times in one week. NOT. ONE. SOUL. Not work related people, not your mama, not your amazing sibling, not Jake from State Farm, not your best friend from childhood, not Tyrone, not your fabulous friend that gets even more fabulous after they’ve have a few cocktails, not the pizza place, not even on Jesus. He has enough on his plate, sis.
Clearly you never read a break up tip post-it let alone an actual column, or owned an Beyonce‘ album, or had a heart to heart with someone or been forced to watch He’s Just Not That Into You with a girlfriend on a drunken Saturday night.
So, thanks for the inspiration on breaking this down, and this is for you Felicia.
Cuffing Season: During the Fall and Winter months people who would normally rather be single or promiscuous find themselves along with the rest of the world desiring to be “Cuffed” or tied down by a serious relationship.
So, if you still aren’t aware of what exactly is “Cuffing Season” or what are the signs of this Fall phenomenon allow me to break this down.
Over the weekend I got some down time to hit the theaters with friends and go see The Conjuring—for those of you unfamiliar it follows the story of the Warren couple who are also paranormal investigators whom step in to help a terrorized family from a dark presence at their new home.
Knowing anything about me one of the things high on the list is that I am a dedicated fan of the Horror genre basically since birth, and despite the fact that most releases lately have sucked, I had to go and check this film out front and center.
And I was not disappointed.
Based off of a true story (actually the Warren couple are behind the true story of The Amityville Horror as well), the film like most was slow in the beginning but definitely kept the tone of eerie throughout. The acting was on point and the scares delivered. Everyone, including myself for the first time, was hollering in that theater like a fool.
I can watch things like Child’s Play all day, but put an antique doll in my face along with creepy old ladies in a house and there is a problem.
The film went on to gross $41.5 million over the weekend and it is solid proof that the Horror genre is not dead and that people still love a good story and to be scared.
But what I realized specifically after talking with a friend is that we live our own little Horror films in our everyday lives.
And of course, there are rules and things to be learned.
The other night I got to talk and catch up with a good girlfriend of mine and of course everything with a vagina’s favorite topic came up:
More specifically, the lack there of–or at least in the case of anything serious.
Listening to my friend’s current situation brought up the main underlining conclusion: IT IS NEVER THE ONE THAT YOU WANT. Sure, on TV and in movies, the girl always gets the guy but in real life–shit goes down further than a hoodrat at a Twerk Nation Convention.
No matter what, it’s always going to be something.