i'm doomed to be single bc god makes sure the bad times always follow after the good

Last Thursday felt like a calm day, I knew something would be coming for me, ready to claim me. I knew it would be good. Something in my mind said I was going to achieve something today. At the time, I thought it would just be extending my weight training to failure reps and sending out a marketing email without any errors.

I had heard whispers of the October bonus happening sometime this week, and after seeing my colleagues enter and leave the room across from my desk, I wasn’t surprised when my director called me into the office to tell me about the bonus I was going to receive (don’t be fooled folks, the bonus was taxed, I’m still poor). A few extra hundred in the bank never hurt anybody, so I gracefully accepted it. What I wasn’t prepared for, was for him to offer me a promotion after being in the role since January.

Giddy with excitement, I tried to call my parents (neither of whom picked up) and best friend on my lunch break to tell them the news. I smiled to myself thinking things were looking so fucking UP. I got an award for best performing department for my little CRM team of two a few weeks ago. I graduated from my masters degree a couple months ago. It’s been a long time since I’ve been praised and rewarded in such quick succession. A girl on the tube said she loved my outfit. The guy I’ve been fucking all summer was back from his holiday. My dads house application was in the final stages. Everything is up. But I know how this works. I know how this works. This shit comes in threes. I’m at what, 6? Shit. So something in me held me back, told me to wait. I was scared that if I said anything, some sort of karma would possess the good luck and spoil it with the bad. As if prolonging the good news would save me from the bad. So I waited until contracts were signed later that day. Because if I sign the contract and then tell everyone, they can’t rescind it. During my walk home, I had a moment of dread.

Something bad is about to happen. I know it. we’re at fucking SIX.

I knew it wouldn’t be instantaneous. The Gods couldn’t be that harsh right? My weekend was looking good and I planned for it to stay that way. But I like being praised and told well done, good job Jasmine. You deserve it. So I called my mum to after work to give her the news. My dad picks up (uh oh), rambles about how she’s left her phone again before leaving the house, and starts telling me about how contracts fell through for the house. Pearls clutched, I listened to him rant but I couldn’t really hear anything he was saying over the voices in my own head saying “you haven’t even made the announcement but they knew you were going to so they took this from you to even the playing field”. How are we going to afford a couple extra thousand to restart the application process? Can we appeal? How much of my own saving for my own house deposit will I need to put in to my parents housing contacts? I felt so selfish, my dad is venting and I’m thinking about myself. But I’m the reason these bad things happen right? He tells me he’s got a few more days to appeal and to “wait and see”. Waiting never works I say, but I don’t tell him that.

My weekend isn’t as bad, it’s packed and busy. Friday is date and overnight stay with the summer fling (because it’s October now and we know how this shit goes). Saturday morning is a doggie date and gym with the best friend. Saturday night is that awful Taylor Swift release party with my long time friends. Sunday is a chill day since I dipped out of a leaving party for a friend of a friend to rest because getting fucked sideways then walking 30k steps and doing an hour in the gym the next day and then sitting on god awful cinema seats at the Odeon listening to bad lyrics really does a number on you.

But it’s fun, I had fun. I tell them all about my promotion (they cheered). I tell them about my worries with the house (they nodded). I told them about this situationship (I shouldn’t have done that). Call me superstitious, but every time I tell my friends about a guy I’ve been seeing for way too long without a label, I end up getting dumped not long after. I shouldn’t have been surprised then, that I hadn’t heard from my summer fling since we went our separate ways on the tube Saturday morning. I went east, he went west.

I call my mum after work Tuesday afternoon, she’s moody. I ask her what’s wrong but “I’m fine” so I ask her again and she’s still “fine”, so I ask her again and again because I hear it in her voice that she’s not fine, so I go on until she realises I won’t back down unless she tells me, so she rants. House contracts fell through, arguments happened. Things went tits up. Parents are once again not talking, and avoiding each other instead of doing what’s best for them. Why stay with each other if you’re not happy? Just because you’re pushing 60 doesn’t mean you need to be depressed for the rest of your life with the only man you’ve ever dated. I don’t tell her that because at least she can hold a man.

I’m sad, because I should have seen it coming. I know how this works. Nothing good ever comes with just the good. Something sinister is always lurking in the background ready to suck the joy out of me.

I’m enjoying a gaming session with my sister, and she sends me a message so I check my app, the first time I’ve looked at my phone in hours, and see this guy, this summer fling, the guy who wouldn’t let go of me when we met last Friday, message a respectful yet still devastating text saying he wants a serious long term relationship but he doesn’t want it with me. Yeah it stung, it always does, but I’ve yet to shed a single tear. I want to cry my fucking eyes out but I can’t because I just feel so exhausted being a women who just wants to be loved, be praised, be successful with a cute nerdy boyfriend and a nice house and a good job. But every time something good happens, the Gods have to take something away threefold.

I question my purpose in life. I know I’m desirable, my boobs are large and my waist is hot, my calfs are my insecurity but men love them so surely that counts for something right? But I’m never ‘long term’ or ‘wifey material’ and who am I to scoff at Taylor Swift just wanting to live off grid with a basketball hoop in her driveway with her dumb jock man and fill the streets with kids that look like him? I can’t even get a nerd to like me.

And it’s my fault, because I know how this works. I should have seen it all coming.