Sometimes, I have the Most Interesting Life

When I was in my early twenties, I was obsessed with Carrie Bradshaw and Sex and the City. I wanted to be Carrie. I thought that I WAS Carrie.

I mean, of my group of college girlfriends, I was most likely to become a writer. I was the most broke and most in debt. And still I was a shopaholic. And I wore very bizarre style combinations that really…stood out.  Of course, I was also the most neurotic when it came to relationships, and I often screwed everything up with my neurosis.

I spent the first half of my twenties with my own real life Big, on and off; back and forth…except that other than our slight difference in age, he wasn’t Mr. Big. But he did make me bat shit crazy. And I did a lot of stupid shit that I’m not quite ready to admit. But I bordered on Carrie Bradshaw’s world of crazy.

Everytime Big and I broke up, I would watch through all six seasons of SATC…and I’d feel lost, then empowered, and then I’d miss him again. And then we’d get back together.

Until one day I realized…that Carrie was bat shit crazy. And it was at least partially her fault that she and Big never worked out the first several times. And it was her fault that she and Aiden never worked out. And the string of other dudes. She was neurotic.

I was neurotic.

And I was done.

Sometime after my 25th birthday (my quarter life crisis, which happened to be the same day the first SATC movie came out) I realized that I needed to break the cycle.

And I gave up on MY Big. And I gave up on Carrie. I haven’t watched an episode of the show since.

But the other day, I started thinking about where I am now and the really cool shit that I get to do as a writer. I am living the part of Carrie Bradshaw’s life that I wanted.

I’m a writer.
I get invited to amazing parties and events and interviews.
And I get to write about my life as I see it.

As Sandra Bullock once said, “Life doesn’t always turn out the way we plan.”

Sometimes, it’s way better.

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