Histamines, Hemlines, and Hormones — Oh My

with an epic 'Learned, Fou(r)ned, Burned' at the end .

The seasons are seasoning, and spring has unleashed its pollen-fueled fury on my respiratory system. I am — and always have been — an allergy kid. A certified legend in the histamine community. I’ve got air purifiers (AirDoctor, my ride-or-die) blasting like jet engines, so my apartment now sounds like a regional airport. Tissue boxes decorate every surface, and there’s always a balled-up Puffs Plus Lotion in my clenched fist like a 90-year-old woman — one of the many things I have in common with the elderly. (I also always have candy in my purse.) I’m out here fighting for my life with a chapped nose, a post-nasal drip, and a dream.

In a valiant attempt to escape the pollen, I went to one of my best friend’s bachelorette parties — in Miami, where I went to college — with some of my favorite college friends. And I’ve gotta say… we held our own. Was I the last one out? Far from it. But I didn’t wear white, I played nicely with others, I talked to strangers, and I stayed (mostly) vertical. Mama’s proud.

I also accidentally discovered that Sudafed is basically government-issued meth. If taken too late in the day, it doesn’t just keep you up — it turns you into a motivational speaker/zumba instructor hybrid at 3AM. I was lying in bed wide-eyed and vibrating. I fear I may never return to baseline.

But nostalgia hit me like a freight train. Being back in the city where I met Dylan, surrounded by the friends I fell in love with at 19, cracked me open in the best and worst way. I spent the flight home (when I should’ve been working) listening to “Twilight Zone” by Ariana Grande and scrolling through old photos from 2012–2016 — back when we were all on the same page, had the same job (go to class), the same friends, and the same group chat with a constant stream of 29 unread messages. Back when every text to a hookup was a group project, and every errand — from grabbing Plan B to getting a McDonalds Diet Coke — was a team sport.

You’d think that after almost a decade of being a grown-up, the ache of not living in the same city as all your best friends would fade. But it doesn’t. I do live in the same city as many of my friends now, and even then, we have to schedule dinners three weeks in advance (that we’ll probably cancel), coordinate around bedtime routines for ourselves (not kids), or reschedule because we’re spiraling over a hard conversation at work.

It’s just different now. Still good — in some ways, even better. But still... different.

now for a littleeeee…Learned <3 Fourned <3 Burned !!!!