The One With All the 2016 Stories
This is what I wrote at the end of last year.
Tonight, I leave 2015 with a sense of excitement. I have no real expectations. I have some arbitrary resolutions to keep me on track. But, this is a clean slate year. It’s kind of scary, can’t lie about that. I have no idea of what’s to come, I’m just open to whatever.
You can say I entered 2016 just wanting to make it out of my limbo year. And I had no idea how to actually accomplish that. So, I rang in the new year throwing coins into a giant glass boot, playing the bongos to “We are the Champions”, and ripping fireball shots. As evident by my hangover the next morning (which was then cured by a Bloody Mary), 2016 was going to be both epic and a bit achey. And it was.
So, in the spirit of the HIMYM seasons I just binged, the following are short stories from 2016 that never really could be essays on their own. Some are sad. Some are funny. Some are empowering. If you stop reading here, just know that 2016 ended up being my transformational year. I shed the layers that I didn’t need and grew into the skin that I now feel the most comfortable in.
(and yes, I am naming my stories like episodes of FRIENDS)
The One with the Goodbye By The Train
2016 started off with one conversation that put the rest of the year on its course. I said goodbye to Mike. Yes, him. Up until that point, we used to meet up every once in a while to catch-up, something most exes don’t do. But we wanted to try and salvage the friendship we wished we could go back to. Deep down, we were flailing. And after a year-ish plus, the cons felt heavier. I had to break this bubble of hope—it was the tiniest, daintiest of strings that tugged me back into a fake reality that I didn’t know how to live in. What used to be familiar comfort was now uncomfortable silence. What used to be good friends shooting the shit was now two strangers making small chat. I ended up crying as he walked me to the train station. I sat there and felt completely adrift as he put his arm around me. His eyes didn’t look like him anymore. Even in that moment, with people passing through, cabs honking, and the Empire State building lit up, I actually felt alone. As we hugged each other goodbye, we each took a deep breath. And man, that goodbye felt like goodbye.
The One with All the Wedding Bouquet Catching
It was the year of 1 bachelorette, 2 bridal showers, 4 weddings, 1 engagement party, 3 borrowed dresses, 2 new dresses, and 2 caught bouquets. Seeing my friends get married was alot more emotional than I thought—there’s something beautiful about recognizing & celebrating the power of love at this age. It feels more real, the traditions feel more meaningful. And so I partook, I raged, and I happy cried. I danced and fist bumped with Jenn Bang’s grandma. I drunkenly jumped in and “stole” the bouquet from Jenn Lin’s sister. I gazed at the sea of stars at Jess and Joe’s reception (after catching the bouquet again). And, I air drummed my heart out with one of Niall and Kam’s wedding bands. I was a witness to love this year, and that was the best kind of love to experience.
The One With All The Vomiting
It all started a year and a half ago, but escalated at the beginning of this year. I developed an annoying (and very painful) reaction to things I ate. It started with a sandwich from Potbelly, then a cookie from Milkbar, and then a sample energy bar from a food show, an egg and toast plate, a fancy avocado toast, and another fruit bar…to name a few. After many visits with my general doctor, allergist, and gastroenterologist, I had to keep a food diary, get blood tests, have a biopsy, and manage my diet. As a foodie, this was definitely a shift in my eating habits. I was, of course, a bit overdramatic, and lamented about how it was earth-shattering. But, it wasn’t. I had to make a lifestyle change or suffer the consequences, so I did. Turns out, my nemesis is flaxseed, which can be found in multigrain breads. I also have to keep gluten to a minimum, which I break every once in a while for bagels and pizzas. So now, I’m an eppi-pen carrier, label reader, and person that asks if there’s flaxseed in dishes. Sup, dudes.
The One With the Instagram Photo
I unfollowed him on Instagram, but Instagram Explore is a tricky little bastard. Based on “people who liked the photo”, it had appeared in that feed. It was the scroll that made my heart stop, stomach drop, and head explode. It was a picture of him in his new apartment…taken by her. What was something I knew would happen, was finally happening. I actually felt like I could have crushed my phone with my anxiety-fueled superhuman strength. He did it, he moved on. I had experienced almost every emotion under the sun: anger, sadness, jealousy, anxiety, more anger. Wait, why was I so mad? He doesn’t deserve to be happy. I guess he does. The back-and-forth bickering came back with a vengeance, but it was more ego than anything else. I didn’t care for him like that, I was jealous — jealous that he had someone and I didn’t. But, even if it hurt, it was the photo that forced me to really close that door. It was needed.
The One Where I Did Fitness Things
Exercise has to be fun in order for me to get moving. So instead of hitting the gym, I participated in group activities. I played basketball with my VM’s all-female team, YOBO (you only ball once), I hiked trails and scaled large rocks with my Happy Hiking crew, and I dancerized by doing ratchet zumba and learning the choreography to Bey’s Formation. But this year, I did what I didn’t think I would ever do—I ran a 5k. Someone please re-read that to make sure it’s true, but hell yeah I ran (walked, hobbled, skipped) a 5k! It indeed was an amazing feeling running through the finish line and hearing people cheer and high five me. But, I’ll never run a 5k again, I guarantee it.
The One With The Switchblade in #LiveEuroBestLife
If there’s one thing you should know about me and traveling, it’s that I make a sick excel document with emergency contact info and heavy research on what to do, see, and eat in a new city. Whilst collecting a bunch of reccomendations and tips from friends (and reading the big black hole called the Internet), I kept reading the phrase “beware of pickpocketers”. The paranoia set in. That’s all I could possibly prepare for. I kept mentioning to Megan how we had be on high alert in crowded spaces, to keep our bags in front of us, to not engage with other tourists who are asking for directions (because ahem, that’s a fucking trick they pull), and to maybe, I don’t know, carry a switchblade, just in case. So every morning began the checklist of things we’d spew out: money, keys, snacks, chargers, and “DO YOU HAVE THE SWITCHBLADE?”. And yes, yes I did. It would only be pulled out at night when we went back to our AirBnbs, she’d open the door and I’d take watch, switchblade pulled out and everything. The maneuver? Jugular and stomach. Fortunately, we did not have to use it, but you never know.
The One Where I Cried On the Train After The Elections
Everyone remember when our worlds were turned upside down on November 8, 2016? Yeah, I try to block that out too. The morning after, I felt so groggy and defeated. Fittingly, the weather in NYC mimicked how everyone else was feeling too—it was dark, gloomy, and rainy. Before heading into work, I stopped by a Starbucks for a cheer me-up beverage, but instead sniffled my order to the barista who tried to crack a smile. I cracked one back at her too. It was all we could muster up. I shuffled my way onto a sardine-packed train where everyone looked like zombies. There was an odd, but deafening silence. I leaned against the door when the tears started to flow. I was definitely one of many who had just let it all go. My group chats were starting to buzz with “how did this happen?” and “what do we do now?”. I didn’t know what to say. But, I realized I didn’t know shit about politics. I kind of knew the basics, but even that was a mix of blurry high school lessons and whatever I chose to read in the media. I failed myself. I didn’t make the effort to learn the issues nor understand why the rest of America aka everyone outside my small bubble had such stark, contrasting beliefs and views. That was the moment when I decided to make more of an effort to educate myself. 2018 general elections, here I come.
The One With The Guy That Ate All My Oreos
Dating this year was interesting. Some had potential whilst others were just for fun. With the whole new mindset of letting things happen, I learned early on that I didn’t have to settle for anything less. However, I didn’t want to be too picky, I couldn’t self-sabotage. Gone were the automatic “boy bye” moments if he was a Patriots fan, if he didn’t know what Pho was, or if he didn’t pay for the first date. I could deal. I had to stop looking for flaws. But this one situation was different. He was amazing on paper: highly-educated, 6'2, comes from a huge family, voted for Hillary, made sarcastic jokes that made me LOL, and had a side hustle that made a lot of money. After a month or so, a few hiccups started to accumulate. I decided to give him one more chance. He came over to my apartment at 7:30 and said dinner was around 10ish in the city, but that he was starving. Good thing I ate my leftovers before you came. I recco’ed the pizza place down the block to appease the appetite with a slice, but he said he was fine, he’d just eat whatever I had. Hmm, that’s weird. I hadn’t been home for a week, so my fridge was empty. I had a leftover slice of pepperoni pizza, oreos, and a bag of chips. I begrudgingly offered them to him…and he went to fucking town. What happened next were the nails to that dating coffin. He began by taking off the pepperonis and throwing them away. I gasped. I paid extra for those. He then poured the bag of Organic Avocado Lime chip crumbs into his mouth like a savage. Those were my favorite healthy but not-so-healthy chips. But the worst offense? He had housed down an entire row of Special Edition Red Christmas Oreos. Without even blinking. I cringed. The tide turned. All those things I had looked past in the beginning were starting to stare back at me. He was done.
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And that kids are some of the random stories I had in 2016.
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2017, the year of of more growing up
2016 was indeed the year that finally course-corrected my path, I truly believe that. Thus, I leave 2016 with more hope and motivation to navigate my last year in my twenties as an optimistic human being. 2017 is already stacked with exciting moments—the celebration of my sister’s wedding, the arrival of my first nephew, the bucketlist trip in an igloo that I always dreamed of, my cousin’s wedding in the South of France, and a family reunion in the Phillipines. I look forward to what the next year has to offer— I’m ready to grow up just a little bit more now.
*this is essay 11 of many. join me every Sunday (or so) for a new one. tata.
