I'm sorry I haven't been here.

Ah, a fresh page and a new post.

Hi, friends. I know, it's been a long fucking time. Allow us all to play "catch up" now.

I just finished, hands down, the hardest semester of my life. "Heather, when are you going to be done with grad school, we're all tired of hearing about it!" I know, I know. But my first two semesters happened after I moved away from all my friends and family, aka my support system, and had that terrible roommate. So needless to say I spent my semesters crying over the *one* course that was killing me. Now, two years later, here I am still out of Ohio (and extremely happy with that) and just kicked ass this semester. So, no. I won't be graduating next semester, or even the semester after that. I'm taking my time because one, I have to. And two, because I'm trying to focus on my career and being a parent at the same time. I'll finish grad school when I can, when it is meant to happen.

Since my last post I also got a job as an Associate Producer on a crime show with Vanity Fair and...I got engaged! So now I'm working, doing grad school, being a parent to an incredible magnificent four-year-old and also planning a wedding. I know, that all sounds fucking insane. However, when you're doing what you love, it's not really work, right? (Just an FYI, I'm gonna repeat that mantra to keep me from stressing out)

It's funny to think that exactly two years ago I was sitting in the exact same chair, probably crying, and writing about how frustrated I was with my roommate. I was writing about how scared I was that I moved and gambled mine and Ev's savings on a stupid dream that would never go anywhere. I was writing about how I was failing at grad school and probably going to quit before finishing. I was basically hopeless, miserable and a little depressed because I had no idea what to expect. I guess using the word "grateful" would certainly be an understatement.

Okay, I know this is short and not exactly enough information to really call this a "catch up" but I literally finished the semester two days ago (which included a novel per week for 15 weeks, on top of producing two short films) and I really want to sit on my couch and watch Jane the Virgin until my heart is content.

I really love you, nerds.

Hillbillies.

I'm posting today. I'm posting for the first time in months because with school, work and my own family, I've been busy. Busy in a positive way that I feel good about. So, the usual sorry I give is more of a sorry-not-sorry sort of thing.

This week has been the worst week I've had in a long time. And now that I have found the time to write about it, I'm going to share with all of you the degree of idiocy I've been forced to deal with.

As most of you know, I send Everly to Ohio for a small period of time in the summer to spend time with her father and my parents. We do this because her dad and I are on okay terms and it's healthy for Ev to spend time with him now that he's got his shit in order. Not to mention, my parents miss her. I don't blame them, she is their only granddaughter. Every trip that Ev has done in Ohio has gone swimmingly and I haven't had a single complaint (except for the occasional, "mom, why is my kid dressed like a complete dork?!")...until now. 

I thought I was able to keep this to myself, but I can't. I just can't. So here's my story.

My sister Charlotte is dating a new guy (shocker!) and at first I really liked him for her. Though he's a bit of an airhead, I found him to be funny in a goofball sort of manner.  I also thought since he's a little older than her, that maybe things would be better this time. Her previous boyfriends have been immature, lazy and left a bad taste in my mouth. I told myself to be supportive of the relationship since Charlotte seemed happy. The first time I ever met him was on Christmas, and even then without having ever met him, I bought him a gift just to show my sister that I supported them. 

I wish I could say that this opinion still stands.

So last week I found out that my sister's boyfriend owns three guns. I also found out that he carries a gun on him majority of the time. I had no idea. Yes, lots of people carry and/or own guns these days, but the idea of him carrying one while he's in the same room as my kid is something I'm not comfortable with. When I found out that they have these guns in their home, I politely said that Ev isn't allowed over there. Of course, my sister was upset. She said it was complete bullshit and even used the word, "dumb" when discussing it with me. 

Now let me explain. This wasn't me singling them out. No, no, no! This would've been said to anyone. I would look my dear, sick, NRA-lovin' granny in the eyes and tell her the same thing. (Side note, I don't actually have a granny as described above, I'm just stating an example.) But of course, my sister took this as a personal attack.

Okay, back to the story.

She immediately jumped to their gun safe. "Heather, they're locked in a safe, WTF" she repeated to me. Okay, cool. Her words aren't enough for me though. And I still don't know her boyfriend that well. I've never been to their home, I've never seen the safe myself, and I don't feel comfortable with Ev being in a place knowing there are guns there.

So just to get a rise out of me my sister asked me what happens if her and her boyfriend show up to Sunday dinner with my parents while Ev is there, and he's carrying. Well, after talking with my parents about it, they agreed that it's my decision as a parent and that what I say in regards to Ev goes. So a "no gun" rule became established at my parent's house whenever Ev is visiting. Mind you, she's only there a small fraction of the year. How did my sister respond? "Well then count Ike and me out for Sunday dinner then."

Yes, let me write that out again so you can fully grasp this.

"Well then count Ike and me out for Sunday dinner then."

There it is, folks. My sister basically said she'd rather miss out on family time, that includes Ev, if her boyfriend can't carry. I wish this was something I was making up, but I've saved the text messages and can't stop hoping I'll wake up from this bad dream. Nope. Instead, this is actually a thing now and I am actually not dreaming it.

I also wish that this was the end of the story and we somehow made up. Nope. Wrong again. This has turned into just the beginning. I hope you've all brewed more coffee, because there's more.

So since the big gun debacle, my sister has been dropping subtle digs on social media. One post that has rubbed me the wrong way was her recent one that said, "Can't change a liberals opinion." (I left the grammatical error on purpose.)

...

So, because I don't want guns around my kid, I'm automatically a liberal? Okay, let's discuss this in depth a little further. Do you guys all remember way back in the roots of this blog when I posted about getting dumped by Jason, Ev's dad? I started going to the shooting range during that time. Let me go into details about that, because my darling sister seems to think I'm being a hypocrite about this whole situation.

When I went to the shooting range, where was Ev? Nowhere near the range. In fact, every time I have ever gone, she's been with her father and had no clue that I was there. Where was the gun I was using? At the shooting range, because I rented it and never kept one in my house, let alone transported it in a vehicle while Ev was in her car seat.

Moving on now.

Because of my past experiences with guns, I'd hardly say I'm a liberal. However, when it comes to my child, my opinion obviously changes in favor of her safety. I never told my sister and her boyfriend to get rid of their guns. In fact, I never said that I disagree with them owning them or using them. Especially in a range. I just don't want them around Ev because accidents happen and that's why they're called accidents. They are tragedies that no one saw coming. I refuse to allow Ev to be in the potential situation where an accident could have been prevented. But of course, because I don't want to introduce Ev to gun culture, I'm a hypocritical liberal who is against guns, period. No, bitch. It's called being a responsible fucking parent. Of course though, there's literally no wiggle room for my thoughts or explanation, which is the real bullshit of this entire ordeal.

Then to make all of this even worse, (yes, there's more) Charlotte told me that her boyfriend carries all the time and has around Ev before.

Hold the phone. Wait just right there, please. So all the times that her boyfriend was carrying my daughter, playing her with, lightly horsing around, he probably was carrying a gun? And neither of them didn't even have respect or the decency to at least tell me? Does this mean that he was carrying last week during Ev's 4th birthday party? Does this mean that he was carrying around not only my child without my knowledge, but someone else's, too?

No. That is not okay, nor will it ever be okay. They can have their own children and subject them to whatever they want, because that's their decision. But to do that with other people's children and think that it's okay is insane. But of course, I'm the one who gets all the backlash because I'm the sister. I honestly think if I was a close friend of hers or his, the situation would be different. However, since history has proven many times that my sister and I don't see eye to eye, this doesn't surprise me.

I am livid. I am hurt by the level of disrespect. I am disappointed. Most of all, I'm ashamed that my sister, someone I'm supposed to be close with, cares more about guns than her own sister's wishes regarding guns around her only niece. Wake up, lady. This isn't letting Ev watch too much television. This isn't me being upset because she gave her candy for breakfast. This is about weapons. I never thought I'd have to defend myself on this subject, especially to my own flesh and blood. But, unfortunate shit happens everyday, and this is one of those big piles of steaming shit.

But what do I know? According to my sister, she's got it all right. Going to college is a waste, $22/hour is "good money" and having guns around children is perfectly okay!

I rest my case.

The ring that was never meant to be mine, thank baby Jesus.

Eric got engaged on Saturday night. Yes, the Eric. The Eric that I spent countless posts on. The Eric that I thought was my other half. The Eric that convinced me I was worthy as a person then quickly ripped me of my identity. Because he was that Eric. The Eric that I thought was someone else. Someone for me. Based on the timeline of my life, I was wrong.

He got engaged on Saturday night.

And people who mutually know us were reaching out to me majority of the weekend. I think they assumed I'd be some devastated wreck. That I'd be a weeping whore in the back of my closet, ugly-cry-eating my feelings and having a huge fucking pity party.

It's been a year since him and I have spoken. I haven't missed him. I haven't cried myself to sleep wondering when he's going to show up at my doorstep with flowers and a sincere apology. I moved on.

I'm so fucking glad.

Wanna know my initial reaction to the news of his engagement? 

Thank God it's not me.

I couldn't have felt more relieved if I had pissed my pants while finding out, and getting a massage at the same time by a tiny man with strong hands.

I'm so content being where I am today, with the person I am with today. End of discussion.

For the first time in a long time, I am happy. The happiest thought in my head right this very second is that I'm so glad I was wrong about Eric. Had I not taken him off the pedestal that he didn't deserve to be on, I never would've given myself the blessing to meet new people.

Person.

I've been semi quieter than usual on here about my current relationship because for the first time ever, I actually feel fulfilled enough. I don't need to write about us because enough people can tell that I'm happy and I feel no need to justify or prove anything. Maybe writing about my past relationships was because deep down I was insecure. I don't know. Maybe I'm wrong about that, too. Being wrong in the past hasn't always been against me though...

Eric, if you ever read this, I'm not mad at you for the past. It just took me a long time to realize what I deserved. You and Kelli have something I'll never understand, but for good reasons. I'm not meant to be close enough to understand. My boyfriend and I also have something great. I also hope you're never close enough to see it.

So here's to never letting myself cry over a boy of the past ever again. Here's to self-worth. Here's to ugly-cry-eating for something that actually matters. Here's to my loving and warm relationship. Here's to Eric and Kelli.

I'm out!

I dreamt I grabbed a penis and I liked it.

So remember how in my last post I said I wanted to corrupt my boyfriend into a pervy person? Well, that is still true. However, last night I did something that I must share with all of you because it is embarrassing and hilarious.

We're in bed, exhausted as usual, and fall asleep pretty quickly. I'm curled up into a ball, facing away from him and suddenly he start yelling my name. "Heather, are you awake? Heather, Heather, Heaaaaaaaa-ther!" I finally come into consciousness and alarmed by the tone of his voice, I turn my head to him and ask what's wrong. "You're squeezing me!" he yells in a slight panic. Next thing I know, I finally caught on to what he was saying.

Yes, what you're thinking is spot on. 

I had apparently put my hand down his pants and gripped his penis. Somewhat hard. (Ha, get it, HARD) Even as I was waking up and realizing he was yelling, I was still hanging on tight. I didn't even know what I was doing. It was like sleep walking, but actually sleep fondling. By the time I let go, I had probably been awake for twenty seconds, just unable to grasp the situation in my head. (Ha, get it, grasp)

I know, you're all probably wondering what the problem is, since most of you know I'm a perv with my head constantly in the gutter. However, I've never in my whole life done something like that to someone. I mean, it's a bit weird to be doing that in my sleep without knowing. I felt like I was desperate for sexy time or something...but in my sleep. Making me feel even more awkward and pathetic about it.

We quickly went back to bed. He made fun of me. I was embarrassed even more. Basically my plan circled its way back to me in the form of karma. Sexually embarrassing karma.

Penis.

Penis.

Penis.

Poor guy...

Well, at least I didn't try to bite it off or something? Right?

School, sex and some 'scuses.

I haven't updated since August, and for that I am sorry.

Now here are the excuses that I'm going basically word vomit at all of you-

• I took way too many classes this semester. Cried at least twice a week for 15 straight weeks.
• I started seeing someone in the early days of August and since then we have become an official couple, and recently moved in together as of New Years. Yes, that all happened and I'm 100000% okay with it.
• I decided to stay at the job I've been with since July so now I'm full-time as opposed to working freelance. I miss freelance and still have been picking up side gigs, but this is the best option for Everly until I graduate and figure out my next move.
• I rescued a puppy. Because...
• I hit my one year move-a-versary since I left Toledo! Woot!

 Now that the excuse thing is done and over with, let's talk about something better. Like, sex. Because sex is always better. And sex is magical and wonderful. And sex keeps me happy. And sex sells.

My boyfriend is more of a grown-up than I am. He is not a rulebreaker and likes to keep things between the two of us private. As most of you know, I am the complete opposite. I share everything, with little to no shame. I could walk around stark naked throughout the streets of Manhattan with a megaphone sharing my sex life and not feel remotely uncomfortable with it. It's just who I am.

The other day, for funsies, I tried initiating some flirty sexting and he just wasn't having it.  Instead, he told me to go take a cold shower. And then told me to stop sending dirty messages while we're at work. Oh yeah, we work together...

Maybe not my best time, but c'mon! Live a little!

So since that happened, I've started a new plan. It's called, Mission to Corrupt Dan:, Part I: Dirty Talk. Part II will be announced at a later date...

Moved out and moved on.

Today, my friends. Today marks the start of a new chapter for me and it involved my precious roommate that I know all of you love and adore as much as I do.

My dreaded roommate moved out today.

Wait, what?!

Yes.

Ring the bells! Raise the flags! Brew the coffee!

For the first time since I moved here, I finally feel connected to the city and now I can actually enjoy it without my Pessimistic Patty ruining my experience. He apparently landed a job in Alabama. So this morning he stuffed his belongings in his car, left a sink full of dirty dishes, and then hit the road.

I've never been so happy to see a sink full of dirty dishes in my entire fucking life.

Now I am living solo with my toddler. Even though that is the scariest thing in the world, I am happy to take on this challenge and tell the world to suck my dick.  I'll find another roommate soon. I'm not in a hurry and I'm excited for Everly and I to have some time to ourselves.

Oh my gosh! We can walk around in our underwear now! Everly will be so thrilled.

It's been 9 months since my move but I honestly think this is the happiest I have been since day one. I feel fulfilled, brave, and part of something bigger than myself. Am I scared? Fuck yes. However, my middle finger is sticking up high for anyone who doubts me and I'm going to take this change with stride.

Be on the lookout NY, Heather is running. Fast. With an iced coffee in her hand and her tiny person sitting on her shoulders. She is also holding a baby-sized iced coffee in her hand.

*drops mic*

He Who Must Not Be Named On The Internet

This was supposed to be a happy/funny post. However, I am so angry that I must vent before my tiny body explodes into a giant pile of steaming coffee beans.

My roommate has been telling people that we're married. Yes, you heard me.

MARRIED.

He also has been telling the people who don't know my background story that Ev is his daughter. That's a double mothafuckin' no.  I am so sick of him claiming me as his territory or acting as if I am a piece of meat that he can just stab his fork into.  And when I say fork, I obviously mean penis. I don't want his penis. I'd rather suck a complete stranger's penis than be intimate with my roommate.

So to properly release what's been swirling around my mind, here's an open letter to my roommate:

He Who Must Not Be Named On The Internet,

First off, fuck you.  I am not your wife.  I am not your girlfriend.  I am not your fellow porno actriz.  You live in la-la-land and it's time to come back to planet Earth. You don't respect me as a mother. You don't respect me as a woman.  You don't respect me as an artist. 

Everly is not your daughter.  I made the mistake once of letting her call someone dad who isn't Jason and she was the one who ended up with a broken heart. Shit is not happening ever again. Not on my watch.  Also, by telling her and the people around you that she is yours, you are robbing her of her own identity. Her last name is Tedrow. Not Wilson. Not your last name. Let her be my daughter.  Secondly, the more you continue to tell people that she's yours, the harder you're making it on yourself. 

Lastly, you have poor hygiene. Yes, this is immature and totally not part of the theme of this letter.  I had to say something though.  Your room is smelly and your dirty laundry makes me gag whenever I am forced to pick it up off of the floor.

That is all...


-Heather mothafuckin' Wilson

P.S.
You wear socks with sandals and it freaks me out.

And now, my friends, I am ready to sleep. Amen.