Category Archives: dating

Apr27

From selfless to selfless goals.

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I’ve always thought love should be selfless but the older I get the more I realize people feel entitled to be selfish. Too hurt in the past—maybe they were cheated on or lied to—they suddenly feel as though they’re entitled to do the same to others. Yet, entitled to complain or get enraged when done to them again. If they were stood up a few times they suddenly believe they can stand others up. If they’re dating more than one girl at a time, they’re suddenly upset one of the girls is also talking to other guys. If they find out their girl cheated on them, they go out and cheat instead of breaking it off or confronting their girl. Suddenly, they just roped a likely innocent person into the fucked-up relationship.

I’m not talking about people being selfish with their own hearts—I can understand being hesitant or putting up walls—I’m talking about selfish with others’ hearts.

It’s tempting to join them: the entitled millennials who believe dating is nothing more than a game. Except the way I’m made up, I can’t not be honest. If a guy asks me if I’m also dating someone else, I’ll admit to it. It’s natural to “date around” at the beginning.

My boss and I always fall into a discussion about my dating life at least twice a month. He likes to check up on me and make sure I’m not wasting time with a dud. He’s like the older protective brother I never quite wanted. In our last conversation I confessed I’m dating around. As in I’m doing the multiple guys thing. I refuse to give one guy all my time and attention until they’ve earned it. I’m tired of being the selfless one who makes the drive, who takes the time away from my daughter, who switches around my schedule only for them to never do the same. It’s embarrassing to realize at the end of dating someone how much you gave them and how little they gave you, even if you never asked or it was never expected—it should be natural. I’ve always been slow to commit or vocalize a relationship, I prefer to get to know the person before we’re official (also, jinxes). Yet, somehow, I’ve always let the guy choose the pace of the relationship. Typically, I chalk this up to my go with the flow personality.

Not anymore.

This last week, I admitted to the boss three guys bit the dust in two weeks—five guys in four weeks. Whether it was from me realizing they were wasting my time, them cancelling because of a change of mind, them standing me up, or me realizing we were better off as friends. If it’s one thing I am, it’s honest. I’m not afraid to tell a guy I think we’re better off as friends, that I don’t see a future with him.

So why can’t these guys do the same?

I’m so sick of the clichés: I’m not ready, I don’t want a relationship now, it’s not you it’s me, blah blah blah. Only for them to turn around and commit to the next girl they meet. I have so much more respect for the guy who comes out and says, “I’m sorry but I don’t see it working out with you.” That’s the line I give along with why—is that heartless? I thought it was honest, but what do I know?

Don’t try to make plans with me three months in the future when we’re just getting to know each other.

Which brings me to my next pet peeve: promises. Promises were made to be broken, I’m convinced. When it’s March and the guy is talking about doing things in the summer when we’ve only just begun to hang out, I tune him out. I’ve been conditioned to not believe a guy until we’re actually in a relationship.

That’s sad and pathetic. And I’ll be the first to admit I hate that about me. I would love to believe a guy and take him at his word but I’ve become a total skeptic.

If a guy wants me to make room for him in my life because let’s be honest, I’m a busy gal, he’s going to have to work for it. I’m not opposed to trusting a guy or making them a priority, I’m just done making it easy or being so selfless.

Don’t worry, I still have hopes for one day finding that selfless love. This is me we’re talking about and we all know I can be quite stubborn in my beliefs.

Apr25

Another one bites the dust.

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I’ve always thought lying was the rudest form of disrespect. I think it’s why I don’t handle rejection well or why it hurts when stood up: there was never any intention to show, it was all a game. I’m not disappointed over the guy—four out of five times I’m just like “oh well, who’s next?”—I’m upset I wasted my time, I’m upset they didn’t respect me enough to be upfront about their intentions, I’m annoyed I became a pawn in their need for attention when I genuinely wanted to get to know them and see where things went…preferably not to the playing field.

A couple months ago I posted a poll on social, wondering if dating was even worth weeding through all the fuckboys, the games & lies: hate love or love love? It was crazy some of the responses I received but those that stood out the most: a number of guys felt the need to advise me on dating guys who were “uglier” than me. They told me how repeatedly dating good looking guys will never lead to a satisfying relationship, I’ll never be more than arm candy and I’ll never be respected or treated like a princess. I’ll continue to be cheated on, lied to, and played.

Well one, I’m a fucking queen. And I once read that historically speaking, queens are much more powerful and successful without a king—I’m at a point of agreeing with this sentiment.

Two, didn’t know I was that shallow. To my knowledge, I’ve never dated or even been with a guy based on looks. Their looks may have attracted me to them, but it was the following conversations and their ability to make me laugh that made anything go farther than a “hello.” If I wasn’t excited to talk to them or see them, I wasn’t interested. Looks be damned.

Three, what does this say about me? They’re either calling me 1) ugly because beautiful people apparently can’t be honest or a good partner, or 2) a cheater because if I’m the better looking one, I can’t respect my partner. Fucking absurd.

I’ve never equated looks with attitude and morals.

And for the record, I’ve never cheated. I know how it feels to be cheated on, I don’t wish that disrespect and rejection on anyone.

It’s repulsive how people can assume someone’s behavior based on looks. Judge much?

I don’t know how many times over the years I’ve heard people tell me they thought I would be a bimbo or a dancer (you know the kind) simply based on my name. Recently, I had someone tell me their favorite picture of me was one of me being a goof because it proved I can be freehearted when my “beauty” would typically make me a stuck-up bitch. It had nothing to do with the resting bitch face I suffer from but specifically his belief that gorgeous women were crazy bitches (he later stood me up, so who’s really the asshole here?). I was like 1) I’m not that pretty, and 2) I can be a total bitch if you piss me off right. Just ask the exes I refuse to acknowledge.

Regarding that poll, I haven’t fully decided if it’s worth it. I know it’s not worth any toxic relationship or being with someone who blatantly disrespects me. I know it’s not worth subjecting my daughter to. Maybe, sometime, I’ll find out why it’s worth it. Until then, I’ll let these guys just bite the dust.

Apr6

Walking Blindly.

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There are two types of people who come out of relationships: those who use their past as an “excuse” or let it dictate their future (or even just their now) & those who leave the past behind where it belongs.

I like to think I’m the latter.

Though, I know I wasn’t always. Some things take awhile to get over. And sometimes, it takes awhile to learn you need to not look back or water dead plants.

Don’t get me wrong, I still hurt from the past and Lord knows I have some trust issues. I don’t open up easily. I’ve never been in love—I’m not sure if I can even get to that point. I like to think someday…& there lies the difference.

I refuse to fully give up. I’ll still try if I meet someone who I’m actually interested in. Though, these days I will admit, those standards keep rising. I simply don’t find myself easily attracted to many guys like I used to be—I used to be more lenient with my standards with a three strikes rule. Now, it’s a total hit or miss. One strike, you out. As soon as I know I don’t see a future with the guy, I’m out.

It’s crazy to me when people shut themselves off because of the past. Not because they want a break or because they’re in a situation that’s not ideal for a relationship (like only in town for a couple weeks) or because they simply don’t feel like wasting time with someone they’re not interested in. Or because they don’t want a relationship, clear cut they have no interest in ever being in a committed relationship.

They shut off because they can’t get over the past or they’re scared of the future. They shut off because they don’t know.

I seem to be making a habit of being attracted to guys who aren’t available by their choice. As in they’re interested and want to hang out but only for fun. They don’t feel like it’s right to jump into something so soon. Society says you can’t simply move from one relationship to another. Society says men need a time of “fun” to be single at some point in their 20s or they might have a mid-life crisis. Pretty sure I’m female and have some sort of mid-life crisis every season: I need this tattoo, I need to buy that fast car, I need to buy my own house not rent, I need to be published this year before I might die. Oh, life is a charming crisis.

This idea of having fun with a self-inflicted expiration date is simply something I don’t understand when interested in someone. To me, the whole point of dating is to have fun and get to know someone. It’s not a proposal, it’s an exploration. It’s quite literally about the fun and just going with the flow, seeing where each day takes you two. You can break it off at any point in time. You can decide at any point in time that you’re not interested anymore. You can have fun and still be respectful. It’s all about the honesty. Am I wrong? I could be way off base here, who knows? I’m half convinced I’m crazy half the days of the week and especially every time I choose to not only write a blog about dating but then also post it for whoever to see. So what do I know?

To me, interest has different levels but at the surface it’s an attraction. You’re drawn to the person for whatever reason often unknown. It’s this ingrained notion that you want to get to know them or that your life could be better with them in it. Doesn’t mean it’s a relationship, could be just as friends, but there’s something there that makes you feel like you were missing it before. Sometimes it leads to more, sometimes it leads to friendship, sometimes it leads to completely parting ways. Rarely, however, can you regret just seeing where it goes.

Sometimes there’s no attraction. And this is where I’m a hypocrite.

My biggest pet peeve is when guys private message me on social to go on a date and I tell them I’m not interested only for them to tell me, “You don’t know what you’re missing out on.” Or, “If you would just be open, I think you’d find I could be the one for you.” Or whatever claim they have. Except, 1) they don’t know me so let’s just stop with the fact that they firmly believe we’re meant to be together. No, we’re not. 2) It’s not that I’m not open, it’s that I’m not interested. There’s nothing I see that draws me to them. I know, bitch thing to say but also very real—and if it’s one thing I am, it’s real—though I do try to say it nicer until they just don’t get it.

(Let’s be clear, I’m all about putting yourself out there and trying but I’m very much against being pushy and right-out rude about it. & don’t ever ask a girl out and when she tells you no send her a dick pic because you actually think that will change her mind. Newsflash: It won’t.  It will, however, absolutely land you on that blocked list and maybe reported as inappropriate/harassment. Like GTFO.)

I don’t believe in running down paths you know will lead you to an absolute dead end. I do believe you can walk blindly down a path where you’re unsure of the outcome. Seems to me most everything we do in life is done blindly. What’s that saying? “Want to make God laugh, tell him your plans.”

Mar28

Whiskey Please.

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It’s been three months and Evelynn still asks to see him, the last guy I dated. Last week, we had to drive 74 miles to her cardiology appointment and over half way there she starts asking if we’re going to see him. I was dumbfounded. Speechless. It had been a couple weeks since she had last asked—I thought it was over.

People always want to know what it’s like dating as a single mom. You don’t realize how heartbreaking it can be until your kid gets attached to the guy. Doesn’t matter how easy or how quickly you get over him, it’s all about the kid.

She’s never even once asked to see her father. I think that’s what makes it so much more difficult. I’ve never seen this side of her.

I’m the type who when betrayed or lied to, I very easily move on—no need pining over a guy who never respected or wanted me, and I’m not one for crying. But something happened, repeatedly dealing with Evelynn asking about seeing him, that has cut me down. It’s like the dating side of me has shut down. I can’t figure out if I’m up for it or not. I can’t figure out how to tell if a guy is being honest—I used to have pretty good judgement of character. I can’t tell if a guy wants me for my body and for me to be a placeholder until they meet someone else who doesn’t have a kid and who can make all the time in the world for them—sorry I’ve got goals to meet and am ambitious—or if they genuinely want me, “baggage”—god I hate that term—and all.

I can’t tell if it’s worth it.

When Evelynn was a baby, it was much easier to date—she didn’t ask about the guy. Now, at three years old, she takes interest and remembers the guy. And let’s be honest, I’m the type who introduces the guy fairly early—judge all you want. Why? I’d rather know how they get along early and it’s good to see how the guy handles a kid being around. She’s my world. I don’t want to date a guy for two or four months only to introduce them and suddenly he realizes that “it’s too real.” She’s my reality—I love my reality.

I finally said yes to a date last week and I couldn’t open up. I was stiff. Boring. Disconnected. I suddenly didn’t know how to date. Crazy considering this is me we’re talking about and I have a tendency to date fast and break up even quicker. I never liked my time wasted with guys I couldn’t see another date or anything past tomorrow with. I half expected the guy to cancel—wouldn’t be the first time.

I’d take getting stood up any day over Evelynn getting attached to a guy who never even wants a future. Who already has an expiration date in mind—and doesn’t share it.

Why can’t dating be like a fine wine? Where it gets better with age?

Likely because I prefer whiskey—bartender, I’ll take a double.

I’d love to double down on the dating, too, while I’m at it and shed this thick armor but let’s be real, I like my high standards. And I hate the dating apps. When did it not become normal for a girl to meet a guy in a bar or the coffee shop? And I’d much rather play it by ear, continue with the house shopping and goal digging while I sip on this whiskey.

Dec30

Bring on the Backbone.

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backbone blog2017 has been one hell of a rollercoaster year. For growth, personally and professionally, mentally and physically.

When I began the year, I was coasting primarily at about 120lbs., unable to keep my weight consistently up to a comfortable number, annoyed when people I hadn’t seen in years told me I looked great when I felt weak most days. Skinny, I can assure you, is not all it’s cracked up to be. I’m a size zero damn near a double 0. It’s a pain in the ass to find jeans or leggings that fit me, most shirts fit awkwardly, and I only buy from the junior department at Kohl’s. I can’t shop women sections anywhere—seriously, most don’t make them small enough for me. That all being said, I’m self-conscious of the slightest weight change, loss or gain. It’s one topic I despise: weight. Doesn’t matter if they’re talking about themselves, me, or someone else. I don’t mind giving healthy eating habits or exercising tips but anything beyond that I’m quickly annoyed by.

Skinny isn’t everything, it’s hardly anything. Fit not skinny is my goal and motto.

Yet, I’m constantly asking folks around me at work to lift shit or open shit for me. Let’s not talk about my stamina on the soccer field—pretty sure the asthma is back and here I thought I had outgrown it. The year started off well on working out regularly and at some point life happened and I couldn’t fit it in as well anymore.

My overall health is on the up, however. I found out I can’t have dairy, a symptom of being “diagnosed” with Celiac Disease so late in life and not going gluten free until I was 25 that lead so such an allergy. I’m sick less, fatigued less, and awake more. Not being able to work out, I focused more on my eating habits. As if my diet couldn’t become more high maintenance. I might be slightly neurotic when it comes to eating some days…or most days, whatever.

And I have to be crazy because when it comes to dating, my radar for finding great guys is impeccable…and I continue to blog about my dating life that has turned into a horror sitcom. The male species have taken everything out of me. I have let them run me down. Played for a fool a number of times. Gave a guy a second chance only to find out the reason he didn’t know what he wanted to do for New Years was because he was hoping for someone else to come along for him to spend it with. Seriously, his dating profile says, “be my new years kiss that sticks around.” Yeah, it came across my attention while I was visiting him. I was only a place holder for him—that’s a really great feeling to have. And if any of my blogs from this past year have proven anything, it’s that I’ve completely lost my backbone and self-respect.

At least when it comes to dating.

Professionally, I have a lot going for me. My boss is like the older brother I never wanted, and I work in an environment where I’m pushed to get better every day. I’ve grown a lot in my capabilities, expanded HFG on a new scale socially. All because of the support I’m provided at work, and that is a really great feeling, knowing I’m surrounded by team members who do care about the success of each other in addition to the company’s. While I’ve watched the company more than triple its size, I’ve also seen my baby (our social media) grow and expand. And yes, it’s seriously like my baby.

I have written enough poetry 2018 can be the year I seek publication. I’m not talking about in competitions or in magazines, I mean as an author of a compiled body of work. Wow. Blowing my own mind there—and you should blow your own damn mind once in a while.

My kid blows my mind every day, though. Being a mother has been the highlight that never fades, making the hard days easy. Knowing I’m a good mom is another great feeling, the fact that I can tune out any noise from anyone who thinks otherwise is assuring—I haven’t lost my self-respect there. In the last year, Evelynn has turned three, played in the ocean for the first time on her first vacation to Florida (yes, we actually took a vacation), started pre-preschool, and has come a long way in her speech. She’s advanced for fine motor and solving problems, doing puzzles. She’s also advanced in the act of being stubborn, fairly certain she might be the boss in this household.

Which brings me to 2018, the year we might move out and into our own place. Oh, you can definitely say I’m excited for next year. Bring it on.

Maybe I’ll even find that backbone.

Nov28

Raise You 74 Miles.

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When did being a single mom become a cry of desperation? It’s not.

“Single mom” has always been a label I wear with pride. Partly because some look poorly on an unwed mother, some have no hesitation to tell me my daughter should have both gender roles in her life (2017: Gay marriage: Get with the times: Argument null you close-minded bastard). Partly because it is difficult to do it on one’s own–I burn with that challenge. Call it the rebel in me flipping the bird to all the haters. #sorrynotsorry I got a fire in me that thrives on misperception.

But it has never been an invite for dick pics and sugar daddy applicants. It never ceases to amaze me the gull some boys–I use this term intentionally–have. 2017 and women are still objects, just a plaything.

And I’m so tired of being seen as just a body, a means for pleasure, a shiny trophy, a nice accessory, a pretty face to stare at. When did I become any of those?? I’ve been told I should lower my standards or expectations but I can’t.

Not when I’ve had a taste of what I want in someone.

Not when I’ve had a guy fully accept my daughter and be the kid with her to make her happy.

But maybe I should not be so willing to make an effort.

The last guy hurt me when he uttered, “I want you but I also want to see what else is out there.” He wanted me to stick around as he had the freedom to be with other girls. Newsflash: you don’t get to be part of my daughter’s life and not make me the only woman you’re with–we’re a packaged deal. Exclusivity. He also found that switch I had been looking for when he said, “If you lived out here or closer, maybe I’d have tried harder and given you what you wanted.” It took that one sentence for me to be done and move on. He also mentioned how if I ever moved out there and asked him out, of course he would say yes. I had 74 miles of drive-time left after that phone call ended to think how if a guy doesn’t want me when it’s hard, then I sure as hell don’t want him when it’s easy.

Seventy-four miles to drill that rejection into my head.

Seventy-four miles to completely let go & flip that switch to turn the feelings off.

It always seems I’m too willing but I’ve always thought life was short so why not make the change and take the risk if I’m able to. I don’t regret being the one to do so but I do regret being the only one to do so. To drive the distance, to rearrange my schedule, to change plans. I’m so tired of guys who are so unwilling to give me the same respect.

People think I’m tight-knit and private, and in some ways I am. I’m an open book if you take the time to read me–hell this blog is proof of my willingness to broadcast my insanity, it seems. I’ll answer any question–I’ve been known for being the “realist bitch around”–and I’ll lay my feelings out there one last time, a take it or leave it ordeal.

I refuse to let them win, let them change that part of me.

I never intended to wear the “single mom” label long term but I’ll be damned if I lower my standards simply to meet a man.

Maybe I’ll simply raise them, instead.

“Darling, you are much too whole to be loved in halves.” — Pavana

Oct10

Portland Here I Come.

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I don’t know how to halfass anything. I’m known for being laid back & nonchalant but I’m also an all-in or forget it kinda girl.

Work. School. Dating. Parenting. Health.

I’m either jumping head first & drowning in the commitment or it’s not registering on my radar. I hold on for the long haul. On the rare occasion I decide to quit, I’m a bit dramatic: going all in with the sudden cold turkey, no looking back method.

Why? It works.

All three times I dropped out of college were snap decisions. (Don’t worry, I do have my degree.) It was like waking up to a blinking neon sign & that was all the clarity I needed. Forget the $20K in extra student loans I may have racked up in the process—regrets aren’t in my nature.

Quit gluten to test Celiac disease? No problem. Absolutely did not think that one through. I could have used a week to pig out on cheap greasy pizza & cinnamon twist donuts (not the rolls, come on). Okay, so I might regret that gung-ho approach some days.

Broke up with the baby daddy on a New Year’s Eve because I had to start the new year off right and I couldn’t be bothered to be with someone another second when I wasn’t into him. Not the most sensitive or considerate way I could have done it, maybe.

Wasn’t kidding about the dramatics.

Found out I was pregnant & “other options” didn’t mean jack to me. EJ may have been a complete shock & unplanned but an abortion never entered my mind. That second line appeared and I balled the Grand Rapids Grand River into flood zone—I was going to be a mom. A 180 would take place with my life & that excited me—committing wholeheartedly to the unknown.

Dating is the hardball of the group, though. I’ve never understood the dating multiple people at once unless it’s just in fun. I’ve always believed that if you meet someone worth your time, you don’t fuck it up. You don’t chase other guys. You don’t look for attention elsewhere. You don’t waste time & dates with guys you’re not really interested in. But maybe that’s because I value my time & hate wasting it. At the same time, I’ve always thought that if you aren’t willing to give up “the others” for someone, that person isn’t enough for you. It won’t last. If you have to think about your feelings—convince yourself—there’s a 99.8% chance he’s not going to last and keep your attention after another few months.

It’s your subconscious telling you you’re already bored.

I’ve always thought hesitation speaks volumes. You can find more truth in the silence.

& there’s a lot of hesitation when dating a single mom. You can imagine how I handle that.

Yet I committed wholeheartedly to accepting dating as a single mom would be no paradise and would rain hesitation. I should move to Portland.

Aug7

Watch Me: A Rant.

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Dating is one big game of hypocrisy and don’t let anyone tell you different. I’d love to say the games are done but I’m notoriously played and I’m a hypocrite to whine about anything if I also turn down guys—I do. Knowing this hasn’t stopped me from wondering why I’m hard to love, if I’m legitimately crazy (these blogs prove I am), and knocked down my self-esteem.

I’ve always been the one who didn’t care about my body, didn’t give guys more than one chance—I’m not a fan of apologies to the point where I don’t believe in “I’m sorrys”—and never questioned my worth. Somehow that’s changed. And that’s hard to admit.

In the last year or so, I’ve questioned everything: career, dating, self-worth, independence, strength, body, health, happiness, location.

The only thing I haven’t questioned: motherhood. And it’s so devastating to me to know the one thing that brings me the most happiness, the one thing that grounds me, is also the one thing that turns many guys away. In the last two weeks, I have been asked multiple times, “How hard is it do date with a kid?”

It’s not easy.

There’s three turnouts:

  • Guy stands me up right before the first date because he can’t handle the idea of a kid involved.
  • Guy bails because he met a girl “who doesn’t have a kid.”
  • Guy bails because he’s scared of losing both me and my daughter in the breakup—remind me again why you’re thinking of a breakup already? Talk about Doomsville.

Oh wait, but there’s a fourth: I have high standards (aka shallow as all hell) and don’t waste time “playing the field” to get to know guys I’m not attracted to. As in, I cut the cord.

Dating with a kid is something of an entirely different ballpark. I’m a hypocrite because single dads turn me off—I question how honest they are about the relationship with the mom. Often times, it eventually comes out the guy complains about not having their kid enough but then turnaround and complain about not doing anything when he has their kid. No thanks.

This weekend I went to a wedding out in Grand Rapids, the city I need to call home again one day. Every time I hit the city limits, my heart clenches—it’s where Evelynn and I belong—but that’s a story for another time. Two things happened: I got hit on because I have the absolute cutest/beautiful/adorable kid—yes, I was shocked too—and the guy wanted me to know that—yes, I’m aware I make cute babies—and I felt really good about myself for the first time in a long time. I’m not a fan of getting dressed up—I like knowing I feel comfortable and good in my own, natural skin when I’m dressed down but that hasn’t been reality lately. But there was something about being in Grand Rapids, my kid having an absolute blast and soaking up the attention, and being with my two best friends and great people that had all the bullshit melting away. It’s amazing what a simple change of location did to me. And I want more of it.

I’m often told I’m too tiny, I’ve heard the cracks about having eating disorders or how I’m like a twig. It’s amazing to me how people think it’s entirely okay to make these comments but turn around and tell me I’m not allowed to talk about how I want to hit the gym more or how I need to work more on my health. I’m not complaining about being fat—I don’t think I am—and I’m not allowed to admit that or comment on it—that would be conceited—but others are allowed to comment on my body. I’m not allowed to feel self-conscious in a bathing suit even if it’s not a weight issue. It’s one of my biggest pet peeves: I can’t comment on how I want to be stronger and fitter without being told to stop talking. I can’t even say that I like my body which I would consider a triumph after questioning my body over the last few years. I’m skinny (derogatory term!) and I’ve let people chip away at my armor, making me wonder about my body image and not liking how I look. Well fuck that.

I’ve also had numerous guys want me only for my body. And that is where the real self-worth and body perception issues lie. No girl wants to be treated or thought of as a toy. It amazes me how guys can call a girl a prude or a tease simply because we won’t send them nudes or sexual photos. Or we won’t bang them on cue. WHAT?! News flash: no girl owes you anything.

But I owe it to myself to wake the fuck up. I owe it to Evelynn to set a better example. Evelynn might be what grounds me but I lay the platform for how she sees the world, how she views herself. So goodbye chips. Goodbye low self-esteem. Goodbye judgments. Goodbye assholes. Hello Grand Rapids? A girl can dream but I’d rather make it happen. Watch me.

May12

Still Got It.

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I got stood up again this past weekend. Well, to be accurate, the guy just flaked out on me but I consider the two to be the same thing. And yes, it’s that same guy who stood me up back in February. Apparently, I’ve lost my backbone at some point in the last year. That’s depressing and intolerable.

That same weekend I also got my hair chopped and colored for the first time in my life. Whenever I end it with a guy or need to make a change, it seems I have to change my hair. It’s a statement. It’s an “I’m sorry I can’t talk to you anymore, I had a different hair style then.” Is that acceptable? Yes. Is that childish? Likely. Blame it on the estrogen. Girls need a physical change to represent an attitude or emotional change. Makes the mindset more permanent. A reminder.

And my bullshit meter just maxed out.

Online dating is the norm. There’s no bush to beat. People say they don’t want to meet someone in a bar. What do you think the norm was 20 years ago? The bar. The restaurant. The beach. The coffee shop. A mutual friend. Anything that wasn’t the internet.

Last summer I got asked out by a stranger at Reed’s Lake. The guy was kind of a creep about it; told me I was absolutely stunning and that he couldn’t help but stare, and would I mind if he took me out to dinner right then. I turned him down. I’m a hypocrite—this was the day after I asked a friend, “whatever happened to getting asked out at the bar?” Yes, I would prefer the bar over the internet. Turns out, guys are even creepier online. And more flakey.

Enter last weekend and my attitude adjustment. Or should I say return?

I’ve been known among my girlfriends as the one who doesn’t put up with shit from guys. Who doesn’t tolerate disrespect or guys thinking they’re going to control me. Who doesn’t give second chances. I have this firm belief that by mid-twenties, people are 98% set in their ways, character and habit wise.

I’ve always been someone who knows who I am.

Hell, whenever my boss asks me, “How’d you know to do that?” or “That’s actually pretty smart, where’d that come from?” It’s almost a guarantee I respond with, “Because I’m fucking awesome.”

So where did that badass chick go? Because I haven’t been her in months. I have questioned my worth multiple times, asked myself what is wrong with me? Why I’m not enough. Ugh. Again, so depressing and intolerable.

I’ve given this dude countless chances, let him flake out on me multiple times. I’m to the point where I’m more disappointed in and upset with myself than him.

Whatever happened to the assertive man? The guy who knows what he wants (and it’s more than just sex) and knows how to ask a girl out and make plans. But like I said I’m a hypocrite. I’ve knack of going for the wrong guy. I keep meeting and talking with boys and it’s just pushing me more and more in the direction of wanting to be a career woman who buys sperm and makes it as a single mom. (Yes, I am in fact fully aware of how crazy this makes me sound.) I can live with not finding a guy to have by my side but I can’t give up on wanting more kids. I don’t have it in me.

I hate when people ask me why I’m still single. It’s a choice. And I’ve still got it.

Mar28

Love is a Verb.

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Today is my parents’ 30th wedding anniversary and, for yet another year, they won’t be doing anything to celebrate other than a nice home cooked meal….they always eat home cooked meals. Oh, & they’re going to attempt to venture out to walk some park trails with Taylor.

Understatement: I’m open about how I date, if I’m dating, past relationships, and refusing to settle. Now we get to the heart of that.

The best thing that ever happened to me was to have a child out of wedlock. You learn a lot about someone when you’re thrown off course; when obstacles are thrown at you, sometimes you learn just how incompatible you are together. And I got Evelynn out of it. (But she was never an obstacle, more like a hidden path.)

I’m not all that open talking about the details with my ex. Most people don’t know my ex didn’t want my daughter to be born, asked me three times to have an abortion. In his defense, however, I asked for his honest stance and also in his defense he at least informed me it was my body (shocker, didn’t know that) and therefore my ultimate decision (didn’t know that either). But it was always followed up with him not wanting “it” to affect our immediate future. SURPRISE: she did. For me, the better.

Most people also don’t know it was his boss who told him he needed to be there when I was to be induced early—my amniotic fluid was low and the baby wasn’t growing, we were concerned she wasn’t getting nutrients.

I don’t want a guy who bails or fails to notice when he needs to show up. I don’t want a guy who ignores me for days because he’s “busy with work” or other commitments—there’s a difference between neglect and busy. You should always show up for the people you love. Especially when they need you. No excuses.

My parents don’t have an easy marriage. Taylor puts a damper on the ability to do anything. I can only remember one date my parents have gone on in the past decade. The not getting out, the constant sacrifices, has definitely created some tension. It’d be delusional to ever believe it hasn’t or couldn’t. My mother has made a career out of caring for Taylor. Everything my parents do is with him in mind. When they had their first kid (me), they agreed they’d always put us kids first. And Taylor has greatly challenged that. They haven’t taken a vacation together in well over a decade—Taylor can’t handle it. It’s been separate vacations for years—unless you count the odd trip to hospitals: Chicago, St. Louis, Boston, Atlanta. What a vacation. But what a partnership.

Many times, my parents could have hired a caretaker but chances are Taylor wouldn’t still be with us today if they had—his care is that specific and his case is that rare. It’s not textbook and much of his diagnosis has been from my mother’s intuition, and my father telling her to follow her gut. Trust. What a friendship.

I want a guy who doesn’t flinch at struggle or leaves me in the dark when complications arise. I’m not looking for someone to take the world on with me, I’m looking for someone to take on LIFE. I want to know that if devastation strikes, we can survive on our own—we won’t take an easy out simply because it’s easy. I want to know that if our world caved in, WE would still fight to stand together. I want a partner I can trust to stick around.

So here’s to my parents: thank you for setting the bar high—after all, love is a verb.