British television is kind of awful.

Shows my flatmate likes to put on when I am eating my dinner:

Come Dine With Me- Four lonely, middle aged and/or homosexual Brits compete for glory and £1000 to have the best dinner party. They make three courses and provide some sort of “entertainment.” The entertainment is not good. It usually involves sexy dancing or playing strange Romanian games. The narrator’s voice is nasally and loud. It haunts my dreams. This show is always on bc no one would watch it otherwise.

Goggle Box- Now this is the most confusing one! Basically you watch a crap program about other people watching crap programs. Literally. They are watching TV and reacting to it. I am unsure how this is a thing.

Take Me Out- A tanned, mediocre man attempts to woo like 50 tanned, mediocre girls who all get a light. They turn their light out when he does something to offend them. He does a trick like a cartwheel or flexing his arm and then chooses a bae from the remaining lights. They go to an Island (probably off of Spain) called Fernando and make feeble attempts at flirting. It makes me mourn for love </3

I am a celebrity please get me out of here- A really pussy knock off of Survivor featuring B grade celebs. They camp in a forest but guess what? They get real food and running water and electricity and talk about how it is the hardest thing they have ever done. It is not actually hard.

X factor- Play God for all of these artsy fartsy teens who take themselves too seriously. Also, everyone refers to them as “artists” when really they are glorified karaoke singers. Most do not understand instruments or song writing. IT IS A FARCE.

One thing that all of these shows seem to have in common is that there is no real sense of competition. Everyone hugs each other and they do not even get catty or vote each other off. British television is so soft and disconcerting in its childish nature.

Sincerely Yours,


Chemistry v Security

Am I betraying myself?

I know the sugar daddy is falling for me. And the thing is, he is lovely. He is more thoughtful, kind, and protective than any of the other men I have dated in my past. He sends me flowers with little notes that he misses me. He adores his cats and I can’t resist a man who loves animals. On occasion he surprises me with a witty sense of humor and is decent looking (Okay, average but our children would be beautiful.) The sex gets the job done so to speak. I’ve orgasmed every time but one. On paper, he is ideal.

The chemistry however is lacking.

I’ve felt strong chemistry twice in my life. I believe in the idea of soul mates but that you have thousands of them. The first was with the guy I lost my virginity to and although he is a bit of an asshole and ghosted me a week later it took me more than two years to get over. We still snapchat on occasion but I’ve seen his less charming side. We have the same sense of humor, both ride horses, study the same degree, and are pretty sexy people. My longterm (ex) boyfriend always knew in the back of my mind I was thinking about the virgin thief.

The second time was in September and took me completely by surprise. I agreed to meet up with Asian Bae for dinner and actually almost skipped it as I had suffered a sexual assault earlier that week but as he flew to my city to see me went through with it. I wasn’t originally physically attracted to him; he was 33 and well, more asian than I was used to but after talking for three hours at dinner I kind of not accidentally missed my train back and stayed over at his artsy boutique hotel… He and I both felt as though we had known each other for years and later when he booked a transatlantic trip just to see me I truly thought that he could be The One. Jeez, even as I type this I feel a tear in my eye. I am too soft! I never got tired discussing anything with him; politics, philosophy, opera, biology, and sitcoms. He laughed at me when I told him my feelings after he started seeing someone else at the same time. I think of him every day despite trying to convince myself that he is immature and suffers from some profound personality flaw. He also has a thing for Scandinavian artists. Enough about him though.

Maybe I only feel chemistry with shitty guys? Both are kind of players like me but I think I am entering that stage when I want security. Can chemistry grow? The daddy treats me like a rare and beautiful flower. Is it betraying my self awareness if after these beautiful attractions I reject that and settle for safety? I don’t know. But right now my dissertation is more important.

Sincerely yours,



Alright guys.

I have to admit something. Every time someone asks me how my dissertation is going I LIE. Or at least change the subject. I am doing an economics dissertation and have quite a bit of field work to conduct but I have not been on top of things. It is due in April.

My main problem is meeting with my dissertation. For some reason I put it off (from the beginning of the year) and have YET to meet with him. I keep telling myself I will “tomorrow” but then I come up with excuses. Like being unwell or needing sleep or that I should get some more work done on it. But I just keep getting more stressed! I also feel like admitting this to someone (like y’all) might help me mobilize so maybe tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow will be the day I INTRODUCE myself to my advisor.

Wish me luck.



Next Friday I am jetting off to the Maldives! Has anyone been to COMO Cocoa Island? Decent for a third date eh? OMGOMGOMG I can hardly even wait!

Daddy asked if it was ok to only fly first class on the way there because the premium cabins were full on the way back. I of course put up a fuss (as a joke) but as he is asian he doesn’t always get the humor and I had to explain. Also, he bought me the newest iPhone “to make me a more productive citizen.” lolol

Also I am on antibiotics for an ear infection. I don’t think it will spoil my chance to dive in the Indian Ocean.

I will photograph my outfits for you in a bit.

To Do:

Bikini waxing

tanning for base

diet like cray

get my dissertation on the road!




The Missionaries

I was walking back from the gym this evening after some box fit. Box fit is where you picture hitting people you hate repeatedly while toning your hot bod. It is a good activity to do if you have a breakup because you develop a revenge body whilst exhausting your rage.

Anyway, I was walking back when I came across two clean cut, boy next door types who stopped me in the street. Assuming they wanted directions (this happens to me frequently because I have wide set eyes and look approachable) I was quite surprised when they asked me if I knew what a missionary was:

Me: Yeah y’all come to my house in America!

Them: Oh really, you live in America?

Me: (proceeds to tell them my address) Are you mormons?

Them: We are! Do you know much about us?

Me: Don’t you guys sometimes marry more than one person? Like what is it called… polygamy?

Them: That is actually a false rumor… are you religious?

Me: Not particularly

Them: Can we have your number?

At this point I am very flattered and give them my number so we can talk about Jesus at some point. They are going to try to convert me but jokes on them bc I am diabolical and will be trying to convert them to the dark side with tales of intrigue in my life. Winner take all.

To be continued.

Sincerely yours,


Borrow My Doggy

One of the best memberships I have ever paid for is one called Borrow My Doggy. It is better than my NatGeo subscription and much better than tinder plus.

One time I was in a club and drunk me thought that tindering in Syria could be a good time. Spoiler alert: It is not and I think that they like guns there more than even in America. Fortunately when I woke up the next morning and realized my folly I had only signed up for a month of plus. So then I played in Rio and matched with Olympians and now get nudes on the reg from a certain diver. So win win I guess? #AleppoisBurning

Anyway, back to borrow my doggy. I went on three dog dates before finding The One. Lily is a three year old lap dog who I am slowly teaching to be a real dog. Today there was a real breakthrough; she went out without both a bow nor a coat (although her collar is still bright pink and rhinestoned) AND off leash. I also taught her a new command, “down” which could be useful. I dunno if her owner would be down with my insidious training but it is okay it does not hurt anyone.

Maybe Borrow My Doggy should sponsor my blog after that glowing review. Then I could add some cool gifs or something.



The C Word

One of my roommate’s favorite activities is to show me off to her various cohorts. I’m like that exotic new pet that you jab awake during dinner parties to parade around before dumping them back in their cage to be forgotten until you need another cute selfie. I’m pretty okay with that to be honest. I am funny (at least I keep myself entertained) bubbly, and rather unique. What I do take issue with is some of the words she chooses to describe me with; especially one in particular. The word I am talking about is “crazy.”

Yes, I am aware that I chose to call my blog, “Sincerely Yours, A Former Crazy Girl.” But I think that is similar to how black people can call themselves and each other the n word. I have been described as crazy by enough other people during a time period that I was struggling with my mental health that by being referred by it now in relation to something markedly not crazy belittles just how far I have come since then. Like, is it “crazy” to dance goofily to the music videos on top forty? Is it crazy not to be shy when you meet new people? I don’t think so. Not compared to real instability (not that you should refer to someone with a legitimate mental health issue as crazy either, they are sick.)

I suffered from a severe general anxiety disorder for many years. In high school I would casually sweat out any shirt I put on by midday and would have to always wear a thick sweatshirt over it. Despite being a top runner in my state I had a resting heart rate above 90 bpm and suffered palpitations from stress. This went untreated as my parents strongly believed in positive thinking. After a particularly drawn out and nasty breakup with exbae following an unfaithful relationship my nerves were completely shot. Cycling with severe depression I had had enough. If I could not get better I didn’t want to be alive. I was tired of the inevitable, pointless anxiety I felt. It was never social for me but just an underlying fearfulness and an inability to control my thoughts.

Because I couldn’t get medication on my parents’ health insurance without them vetoing it, I approached a doctor in the UK who immediately put me on a pretty significant dose of sertraline and diazepam. I know that medication does not work for everyone but I credit this doctor with saving my life. The drugs did not solve my depression and anxiety but took the edge off just enough that I was able to function and do things for myself that DID help it. For the first time in months I was able to get out of bed, structure my day, exercise, meet new people, and laugh. For the first time in my life I was able to redirect worrying and obsessive thoughts to something more productive.

Now over a year later I do not take diazepam and do not consider myself mentally unwell. in fact, I consider myself incredibly resilient and I love the girl I became. When I talk about that part of my life it is often in the third person. I did A LOT of things I wouldn’t do now but without that struggle I would not be who I am. I want to talk to you guys more about this but as we are just getting to know each other I figure we can wait.

Also, the hedgehog pooped on me while I wrote this. She is a sassy bitch.

Sincerely Yours,


Postmodern Seduction

Me: Wanna bang at some point this weekend?

Him: Yeah for sure, tomorrow isn’t good but Saturday or Sunday night is

Him: You left your hat here btw

Me: And my jolly ranchers

Him: Yeah those as well so if you weren’t as straightforward you have an excuse now

Me: Sneaky

Create a free website or blog at

Up ↑