Regretfully, Stefany

A life full of regrets simply needs a new perspective. I’m sure someone else said that once, but feel free to quote me.

I’m not a big fan of regrets, because I believe everything happens for a reason. I also live in an eternally optimistic world of silver linings, rainbows, and unicorn tears, so my view may be a little tainted.

That said, there have been some occasions in my life that I wish had a different outcome. Not shockingly, they’re pretty much all related to the opposite sex. For example, there’s that one time I saw Zachary Levi at Frying Pan, took a stalker-esque pic to text my best friend, froze when he walked up next to me, then tweeted at him after he left. One of my less smooth moves, or lack thereof. I don’t necessarily have game, per say, but I’m also not an introverted mute. I’ve also now blogged about the regretful missed connection, thus, officially ruining any chance I had with Zachary Levi. Zachary, sorry I let our love fern die; more importantly, sorry you didn’t know we had a love fern.

Then, there’s that time I saw a real live cowboy (boots, bandana, hat, the works), took a stalker-esque picture of him to text my friends, Instagram-ed said picture, blogged about him, then watched him put his book in his canvas cowboy bag and leave the bar. Well played, Stefany.

There was also that time I chickened out when the now Grammy Award winning country artist asked me to join him for a nightcap. At the time, he was simply a tall, handsome, charming, southern boy drinking in a Buckhead dive bar with a couple friends. His friends mentioned his band and dropped the names of a few famous relatives, but this gent was far from cavalier. He asked for my number, I obliged. He called an hour later and asked if I wanted to meet him for a drink, I declined. Six years, five albums, and seven Grammy’s later, I now realize I probably should’ve taken him up on that drink…if only for the sake of this blog. That nightcap would’ve made a far more interesting story than the one I just told.

As far as everything else, I have no regrets. Yes, I’ve made some terrible decisions. Nothing in my life is safe from my innate ability to make terrible decisions…work, men, fashion, lunch…it’s all inevitably doomed. However, it’s all me. There’s no use worrying whether I’m making the right decisions; instead, I know I might be making the wrong ones, but I also know I’ll eventually figure it out and adjust my sails. I’ll eventually get there, but I’m definitely taking the scenic route!


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