So despite being utterly diseased, I am making my way out to Brother Jimmy's tonight with my friends and having a damn good time regardless of the fact that I have to work this weekend. Updates may be limited until Monday, but rest assured I've got some good stories coming in the next two weeks or so, particularly once I know what's going on with this potential publisher on Thursday.
I'm gonna get lame and sentimental for a hot sex (typo but it's appropriate and staying).
2010 was a very up and down year for me. I had loads of fun, did a lot of cool shit, banged a lot of cool guys, went to a lot of good games....but it also came with a lot of rejection and a lot of second guessing myself.
Starting in May of 2010, I had applied to, and interview for, about seven jobs. Two at Fox Sports, two at Edelman PR, two at this tiny PR firm in Midtown, one at an arts company downtown. And despite being qualified, and being willing to accept a salary that most adults couldn't pay their fucking rent on, I still got rejected by ALL of them. So then I switched tactics and went back to writing. But I had gotten a lot of rejection letters from literary agencies when I started pitching the book idea in September. Like I said in another post, I had a guy tell me that he was embarrassed for me and that his wife would be horrified if he ever represented me. He told me I would regret my decision to write about this. That, coupled with a turn around rejection from a guy I actually thought I was going to end up dating (and no, not any of the pro athletes you might be assuming), by the end of September, I was a mess. It had been five long months of basically being told "you're not good enough" and "you're not what we want" and "you're not qualified" and "we went with someone else" and "I am getting back with my ex girlfriend".
I can remember sitting in my mom's room in PJ's crying over the fact that no one wanted me. No one wanted to hire me, no one wanted to date me, no one thought I was good enough. I had come out of college expecting some sort of success and the only thing I could seemingly do well was make French martinis. I felt absolutely worthless.
But here's the thing. I never really wanted to work in PR. I never wanted to do ad sales for Fox's Spanish sports channels. I didn't want to write press releases for syndicated television shows or Advil. And I didn't want to date a guy who lived in Queens who's hair I couldn't get passed. But for some reason, I felt like this is what everyone else wanted me to do, expected me to do. Get a good, respectable job, work in a cubicle, date a "nice" guy, go to Happy Hours on Thursdays and be "normal".
Fuck that. Fuck, that.
By October, I was burnt out. I was tired of work, tired of my situation with guys, and angry about my situation with writing. I knew I wanted to write this book. I knew the stories were good enough, and I knew I could pull it together. So I took a week off from the bar, sat at home on my computer and pulled out some serious Facebook stalking that I only ever reserve for athletes, and changed the face of the game.
When you "query" agents, there's a whole formula. But it was so inappropriate for what I was trying to do. It was too stiff, too formal. So instead, I found four agents and four editors on Facebook, sent them all a message about the book, what I was trying to do, and made it my own. I put my voice into it. And I got two responses.
That was the first hurdle. Meeting Doug and hashing out my ideas and his experience was one of the biggest reliefs I've ever had. He was just so supportive and encouraging. I got so fucking lucky with him as my literary agent.
Next was the actual book itself. I didn't know how to proceed. I didn't know what I could say and couldn't say. I didn't know how to do it while protecting the guys names. And so the proposal was stiff and rigid and kind of too explanatory. And it got a lot of rejections.
So I decided to wear it and be myself. I did the Brobible article and despite all the nasty slut comments, it was pretty big for me. Got the blog on the map. Got my style of writing noticed. Got me noticed. Then came CNN. And Sportsgrid. And Fox. And now, hopefully, my book finally, with this publisher on Thursday.
Everything else has just fallen into place since then. My life is exponentially better because of the shit I pushed myself to complete. This is what I want to do. I want to write about funny sex stories and curse like a fucking sailor and have a good time. I am not ready to be normal just yet. And 2010 has taught me that. In 2010, I flew to Europe to fuck a hottie, and got a friend/casual ego boosting hook up fuck out of it. I drove to Jersey to steal boxers. I went to Philly to have a damn good time with my friends. I watched the Olympics and the World Cup and Major League baseball with a whole new level of appreciation.
I am so glad I didn't get those jobs. I am so glad that guy decided to get back with his ex. I am so happy I didn't settle for the life everyone just assumes is safe and works. It would have never worked for me. And now, finally, with some serious effort and my inability to take no for an answer, coupled with some batshit crazy tendencies, I am finally making things work out the way I want them to.
It wouldn't have been the same without the blog. The last two months on here have been seriously, some of the best I've had in a long time. You guys have been awesome, even the psychos who insult me on a daily basis, who think I look hideous all the time or think I'm ugly or make fun of me for being a slut. You guys make it even more enjoyable when shit goes right. The Cookbook lady might be my favorite person of 2010, seriously. There was a time the haters made me lose weight. Now its just an amazing part of the whole thing.
To the readers like Courtney and Bethanny and Nichole and Renee and Liz and Kat and Melissa and Voo - if you think I don't seriously appreciate your loyalty to the site and my stories, you are greatly mistaken. I love my readers so much, as gay and cliche as that sounds. You've made it possible for me to get this far. You're who I work for now, and trust me, it's SO much better than the short little dbag who used to yell at me when I didn't make the coffee strong enough or refill the toilet paper roll the right way (this was my first real job post college).
So here's to all the shitty parts of 2010 that got me down, and the amazing parts of 2010 that got me back up (soccer hottie, you're right up there for keeping me laughing and constantly turned on), and for the last 2 months that have been an amazing turn around. And here's to 2011, where hopefully there will be new jerseys to chase, new people to insult, new women to call me a slut, and new contracts for me to sign.
Until then, I've also realized I give a lot back to my female jersey chasers, in the sense that I hook you bitches up with a lot of pictures of hot athletes. I had one request for something more appropriate for the dudes reading, and so, here's a little censored version of what my athlete hotties get for good goals and hard fought wins ;). Sorry, score a goal in a major game and you'll get the titties. 'Til then, this is my thank you!
Happy New Year you shady bitches!