Category Archives: sarcasm

Mar18

Give me bossy, I’ll give you a voice.

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I have a problem calling my daughter bossy. I also find it difficult to reprimand her for the times she is bossy. She’s young and impressionable. I’d rather she grow up bossy and strong, with a slight attitude towards authority, than lose her voice. She’s young and knowing the difference at this age is challenging.

Attitude is everything. It’s what defines growth and success. It’s what decides if goals are achieved. It’s what can define our character and how we think of ourselves, how we talk to ourselves.

It’s also what separates state of content from true pure happiness.

We have a habit as empathetic humans of getting roped into things that aren’t good for us because it’s what someone else wants or because we’re told it’s what’s best for us. We’re never given a well-rounded why but we take it, hoping maybe they know something we don’t or because we host this fear of the unknown.

It’s why we go back to toxic or negative relationships. Instead of burning the house down we shut the door and hang a rope out the window.

It’s why we stick around for undervalued or underpaid jobs instead of chasing a career and holding out for the positions or pay we deserve.

It’s why we don’t speak up when we disagree with a popular opinion.

It’s why when we’re sad, we smother it and self-medicate in damaging ways or ignore it until it becomes a ticking time bomb and too much to bear.

It’s why we overuse words like depression and anxiety, when what we really feel is sad or fear.

It’s why we often times forget people cannot simply demand our respect given their job title or status in life—it’s something that must be continuously earned.

It’s why we lose curiosity and imagination with age.

It’s why when we’re told “No” or that we’re not good enough, we often take it.

We’re told “No” too many times. “Sit down.” “Be quiet.” “Listen up.” Yet, we never give someone at a young age the platform to speak and cultivate their own thought process.

I make Evelynn play alone. Sometimes, I’ve wondered if I’m a bad mom for fostering independence—I know some people find this “selfish” behavior on my part but never ask me why I do it. I want her to rely on herself and feel confident alone. So many people are so scared of being alone or find too much comfort in it as a way to escape reality. I want her to grow up balancing social and alone time.

When Evelynn was first put into preschool (a pre pre-preschool at age 2) for 2 hours, it was required the parents stick around in the room. What happened? Every child only wanted to play with their parent. I refused. I encouraged her to play with other kids while I drank my coffee and watched, stepping in as needed if there was a problem. Overtime, other parents tried to do the same and we’d chat, often interrupted by their kid wanting their attention in a roomful of child peers. Evelynn ended up being the only child social enough to play with other kids and parents the entire time, every day. Despite her speech issue.

When she went into pre-preschool at age 3, she became the child who sought out the lonely kid and made sure they had a buddy. While other kids often sought her out, and she would play with them, too, she was comfortable enough to play with the quiet kid, the disabled kid, the lonely kid.

For our 90-minute trips to the east side or back, she plays with her hands. Her fingers are puppets. She entertains herself. Whereas me and my brother would have berated our parents with “Are we there yet?” Evelynn keeps herself occupied or tells me a story. Or naps. I’m lucky there.

What do I mean when I make her play alone? Saturday and Sunday mornings are my “coffee time” when I drink my coffee and read. Evelynn can cuddle with me if she’s in a mood or, mostly, I encourage her to play with her barbies or dolls or animals or kitchen set. I encourage her to color or do her puzzle. She’s still on this 400-piece puzzle that I refuse to help her with. The only thing I’m willing to do is sit at the table with her or separate the pieces by theme (sky, snow, edges, etc.). I want her to be able to say she did it. I want her to be comfortable on her own.

I don’t want her to equate playing alone with nobody wants to play with her or be around her. I don’t want her to equate being alone with nobody wants her or likes her.

I take the bossy.

I welcome the bossy.

When she tells me to do something, I give her a look and she uses her manners. I ask her why she can’t do it herself and if it’s a sufficient reply, I’ll do it. If she thinks something is “too hard” I make her try first before I help. We often do a, “Evelynn, stop. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Okay? Try it again,” when she’s frustrated and she is the only obstacle standing in her own way.

And then she nails it.

The child has a speech issue. Still. It’s better but most folks can’t understand everything she says. Hell, I often struggle. It’s a work in progress. However, this hasn’t stopped her from engaging with peers or talking with a stranger at Target. She’s always telling the checkout lady or sir a story. She hasn’t let it deter her.

We have a habit in growing up of losing our curiosity and voice. We’re so scared to tell someone how we feel, that we love them, that we’re happy, that we love ourselves, that we’re sad. We filter everything; in fear they won’t love us back, we don’t want to be seen as conceited, we don’t want to be seen as broken, we don’t want to be labeled. I love that kids have no filter (except when they’re saying something hurtful or doing something harmful, of course).

Evelynn isn’t afraid to tell me how she feels or what she wants. I want that to grow and continue. I want her to know she matters. I want her to foster that imagination. I want her to foster that curiosity. I want her to foster that empathy for others. I want her to keep randomly coming up to me and announcing with pride, “Mom I’m strong,” while pumping her arm muscles on display; or, “Mom, I did it! I’m smart,” when she completes a new 100-piece puzzle; or even, “Mom, I’m beautiful” when she puts on a new dress she likes or wears “flower hair” (braids) she loves.

I want her to know she CAN validate herself. I want her to foster that voice. I want her to know she has the power.

Mar11

Going High Maintenance.

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Can you be a serial dater if you never actually date because you have like a 95% rate of getting stood up?

While most people love the beginning stage, I hate it. I find it tedious. Mostly because it’s difficult to find time and so much easier to skip to when the guy can come over with Evelynn around and I don’t need to worry about scheduling a babysitter or be mindful of time. It’s also difficult because people seem to forget that at that beginning stage, you’re still getting to know someone. You don’t know what makes someone tick or makes them feel insecure, you don’t know their schedule, you don’t understand their joking style. Mostly, you don’t know how honest or dishonest they are.

It’s no secret I seem to be a beacon for the assholes of the world but despite any trust issues I might have, I’m adamant about blank slates. I can’t treat each new guy like a past guy if I’m moving forward in life, so I don’t. However, more often than not, when I allow myself to believe the guy’s excuse, it bites me in the ass and I end up wishing I’d have gone with my gut, trusted history, and not have wasted my time. Red flags exist for a reason.

It’s a disappointing place to be when this is the trend of my dating life.

More disappointing: when you have to tell the guy how to date.

It’s noted somewhere in one of these blogs how I’m not a fan of the rich man. How it’s typically an immediate turnoff for me. Recently, I decided to listen to my old boss and my new boss on giving rich guys a try regardless—it doesn’t always mean manipulation, sometimes it can mean discipline and hard work. Of course, given this is my dating life, I give the rich asshole a chance not a man who happens to be rich.

Twice this dude asks me out and says “Okay, I’ll follow up with you and let you know what works and what the plan is.” Twice he fails to follow through and I don’t hear from him for over a week. Not to mention, he was very unspecific about a time, instead choosing “this weekend” or “later this week” and then wonders why I don’t still have his number in my phone.

I’m the dumbass who let him do so twice.

And who the hell speaks about “following up” for a date?

Sad part: I haven’t actually counted this guy in my Getting Stood Up count because I’m not sure how to qualify it since he asked but without giving a specific time, and he asked twice.

Ugh, what an embarrassment.

And did I mention he’s 34 years old? WHY AM I TELLING A 34-YEAR-OLD HOW TO DATE IN 2019?

Because it’s 2019 and this is dating in 2019.

What happened to dating? You know, when someone has a plan and time already in mind instead of no clue until the night of or without expecting you to drop everything and agree to plans last minute (HI! Single mom here). It’s annoying and I’ll tell you how this attitude towards dating translates: “I’m lazy and not that interested but I’ll ask you out since I’m bored and have no one else to ask.” I should make it a rule to automatically say NO to any guy who can’t just Man Up with a plan but up until now it’s made me feel high maintenance to even think it’s an issue. Apparently, I need to be high maintenance.

Yes, I said Man Up in an overly sensitive society. No, I don’t care.

I’m not asking for a label—I hate them and firmly believe if it doesn’t come naturally, you’re likely either not with the right person or not ready for a relationship. Also, who labels on the first date? I’d run. I’m not asking for flowers—I’m not a girl you buy flowers for. I’ve even dedicated an entire blog to this once. I’m not asking for a fancy dinner—I prefer great conversation over comfort food and some Jack Daniels (or a homecooked meal if it’s not the first time) in a darker lit restaurant. I’m not asking you to play daddy—I don’t even want you meeting Evelynn until I know where I stand with you.

Who made dating so complicated? What happened to simple mutual attractions, hanging out to see if it could go somewhere, and honest communication?

And then there was this weekend. Getting stood up this weekend—number 5 or 6 or 7 depending on how you qualify being stood up—was something entirely differently. Another round of that clear miscommunication and a few yellow flags.

It’s too much.

I allowed myself to be excited. We’d talked enough and I’m a sucker for a great conversation and communication, a strong wit—and someone who calls me on my bullshit. I also allowed myself to cry for about 24 seconds because when does it end? When does the conversations stop ending abruptly with being stood up instead and start to be continued in person?

And because I wanted puppy chow but I gave it up for lent.

I should’ve given up dating for lent.

But this is me we’re talking about, I’m stubborn as hell. Giving up would mean they won, they got to me, they broke me. And I hate that pesky statistic that says 82% of single moms with a daughter remain single. I hate being defined by statistics. I make my own labels.

Looks like I’m going the high maintenance route.

Feb28

Looks Be Damned, More Coffee Please.

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IMG_6465I always seem to be the girl at the center of every coffee joke, meme, or purchase item; constantly tagged by friends, family, and even strangers. Yet, I’ve never dated a guy who drank coffee.

You read that right: not one of my exes drank coffee. I’ve been racking my brain trying to remember one who did. Instead, every single one of them refused to touch the beverage and would quote, “It just means there’s more for you and I’ll never be the cause of why you might run out of coffee. So I can never piss you off.” Translation: “I’m never responsible for buying it and I don’t support your Starbucks runs.” Which sadly aligned well with most of the nonequal relationships by the end.

Lesson: pay attention to the little things; their voices will be shouting by the end.

Last weekend I got stood up again and I’m starting to actually wonder if this is the trait at the core of my dating issues. Sad part: I can’t even tell if I’m joking. (Insert slap face emoji.)

We’re only two months in the year and I have been stood up 4 times. I’d be lying if I said it hasn’t hurt or doesn’t break me just a little every time it happens. It comes to the point where I never get hopes up with dating and always expect the guy not to show. That’s become my norm.

That is sad. That’s crazy.

It’s so early in the stages of getting to know someone, it makes you question your looks. The person has yet to know you on any deep level. Their attraction at the beginning is almost entirely based on looks. Basic attraction. That’s why first dates happen, to see if there’s a human interaction connection.

It makes me question if I’m pretty enough and I hate that.

Anyone who knows me well, or well enough, will tell you I hate promoting the “look good feel good.” I despise promoting the fitness for looks goals and Tuesday Transformation posts. I’m the girl wishing everyone felt confident in their own skin because they feel good, because the endorphins from working out has a positive impact on happiness. I hate when people associate looks with size—don’t worry, I won’t go into the skinny beautiful rant again, I’ve done that enough.

Yet, I’m the girl questioning my looks. There’s my confession. I am allowing my subconscious to pick apart my body.

Every voice that pops up in my head to tell me I’m not good enough because I’m not pretty enough, I have to tell take a hike. The voices that pick apart my skin, size, hair, shape….we fight constantly. Here’s the thing though: I refuse to let her win.

There’s a kicker, though.

Lately I’ve been asking myself this one question: How can I feel confident in my own skin and love my body when I’m constantly allowing this voice to pop up in my head, telling me, you’re not pretty enough, what’s wrong with you? It’s a crazy paradigm. It’s irony. I’m at the best I’ve felt in my own skin and yet, this voice is just nagging and there. It doesn’t matter if I tell her she’s wrong or that I do love my body. It doesn’t matter that when she tells me, “your back is scared” or “you’ve got rolls instead of a flat tubby” I turn around and say, “Well, so the fuck what? That’s life. Doesn’t matter. She’s still there and I still get stood up.

Reality: It’s a continuous journey. Sometimes, I like to call it an ego check; it’s what keeps us humble.

 

PERCEPTION.

per·cep·tion

A way of regarding, understanding, or interpreting something; a mental impression.

Here’s today’s thought: How often has your perception of yourself been influenced by the negative actions of other people?

You can’t control how people perceive you but you can control your actions and your mindset. Despite common belief, you can choose to be happy with yourself. You can choose to accept yourself but why only accept yourself? Why stop there?

So, here’s to the one who is having trouble loving yourself:

  • You are smart. If you don’t feel smart, read more and always be curious.
  • You are strong. If you don’t feel strong, lift more and be more active.
  • You are kind. If you don’t feel kind, do 3 things every day to bring kindness to someone and make at least one of those acts of kindness to a stranger.
  • You are loved. If you don’t feel loved, love more—those around you and yourself.
  • You are exquisitely beautiful. If you don’t feel exquisitely beautiful, start every day by telling yourself one thing you love about your body and why.
  • You are ALIVE. Nothing else matters. Be happy that you can enjoy what it’s like to fill your lungs with air, to feel the ground beneath your feet when you walk, and to taste your favorite food.
  • You are YOU. Nobody gets that superpower. Fall in love with yourself for that alone.

Don’t be on the wrong side of loving yourself. The world—you—has enough critics. And anyone who doesn’t love you, fuck them. Seriously, life is too short. Too short for stupid boys and questioning your looks or your worth.

Besides, I’d rather have a good cup of coffee with a guy who brings me up and doesn’t make second guess myself.

 

Feb22

I’ll take the fitness, Pot.

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Beachbody didn’t give me my beach body. It didn’t give me my love for fitness and it wasn’t the platform that taught me how to eat healthy. It didn’t give me discipline. It didn’t give me a drive or light the fire within me. It didn’t make me realize my dreams or give my inspiration. I had that hard work ethic and was digging for my goals before I ever joined the Beachbody community. It didn’t give me this large sense of belonging—I’m introverted AF. However, at a time in my life when I had no ability to attend a gym regularly, it gave me consistency. For the days I need therapy and I can’t get to the gym because HELLO career woman living the single mom life, it’s allowed me to push play within minutes.

You, a friend, telling me I’ve joined a cult that you’ve done no research on as you sit on your throne of a couch and judge, can move along. You, a stranger, who knows nothing about me or my life as you do your own fitness journey and promote activity—”do any activity”—but judge, can also move along.

The honest truth: it took me over 3 years to join because previously, it didn’t work for me and previously, I had other methods of staying active. I also didn’t like the coaches who approached me on their high thrones with their copy/paste generic messaging—that’s on them, not the program—telling me how I should live my fitness life. Then, I moved out of my parents with my kid, alone, and had no babysitter and worked 60+ hour weeks. I researched at home fitness programs, and then I researched coaches of such programs. It worked for me, and now you’re telling me there’s a fault in being active? At $99 a year?

Am I fan of the tiered marketing system? No. However, it’s brilliant. Catered to the stay at home mom feeling in a slump; the overweight or depressed female insecure for the gym; the fitness enthusiast who has career goals but also wants to share her love for fitness and health with the world; the extrovert fitness gal. Anyone. And you’re labeling it all as a cult without ever trying it or actually looking into it? They don’t force your hand, they provide you options. What you do with it is up to you.

There is a cancel option.

How’s the Kettle, Pot?

There’s no one-size fits all fitness program & unfortunately, I don’t agree with many things in the Beachbody community but hey Pot, that’s life.

I recently joined Planet Fitness and let me tell you, their whole “Judgment Free Zone” epitomizes the hypocrite label. Again, not perfect. Are you also going to make fun of the obese man doing cardio for an hour because I’ll applaud the man just like I’ll applaud the lunk (is that the word PF uses?) who grunts to clean 300lbs. They’re more active than most of the population. I don’t care how one chooses to be active—hi Free Will, welcome to the party—as long as they’re active (and not hurting anyone). If they want to eat like crap to balance out their fitness, I might not agree with it, and I certainly won’t hear of their ailments when they suffer from high blood pressure or the doctor tells them they’re at risk of a heart attack, but that’s their prerogative.

Being active is being active.

How you choose to live life will not affect me. How you choose to judge my fitness and health journey, will not affect the outcome of my results.

If you complain about not having time to make it to the gym and being inactive but stick your nose up to any at home fitness program, again, that’s your problem and I don’t want to hear about it. I may not follow the “no excuse” phenomenon but that, Pot, is a shit poor excuse. What’s your next one?

Have I struggled with my name attached to the same company of women I’ve had to personally block from my social media because they bullied me for not wanting to blindly try a product that was never labeled Gluten Free or didn’t believe me when I said I had no Wi-Fi because I lived in the boonies and preferred yoga and the gym? Absolutely. I’m also not a fan of joining the same gym that told me, “Well, he probably didn’t cancel your membership because you don’t look pregnant,” despite me filling out the proper cancellation paperwork. Newsflash, I didn’t “pop” until I was over 7 months along into my pregnancy. Fitness programs, affiliates, and companies are not perfect. (Then again, you’re not either. Yeah, I said that.)

Here’s the thing you’re overlooking in your enthusiasm to blindly label: it’s sales and it’s business. These are women who are running a business, like you sell Arbonne, mortgages, jewelry, real estate, candles, or apparel. If you don’t want to be sold to, turn off your television, cancel your phone plan, and move to the wilderness.

Beachbody simply decided to create a company that allowed women, many of whom seem to be introverts, to turn their passion for the lifestyle into a fitness on a platform (social media) that allows them to feel comfortable breaking out of that introvert shell. That doesn’t make it a cult, it makes it a brilliant marketing campaign. BBG could do the same and from the research I’ve done, it looks like 1stphorm has done the same to some degree. The difference is Beachbody thrives on community and friendships so VOILA: “cult” aka more accurately labeled SUCCESS.

If you’re going to judge these women for taking control of their health, turning it into an income, falling in love with themselves, and wanting to empower others to do the same, well, you’re just as bad as the coaches who believe Beachbody is the “only” fitness method.

Congratulations Pot, you found Kettle.

Now, as for me and my fitness journey, you can find me either at the gym or doing triple bears in my living room with my 4-year-old daughter. As long as I’m consistently active and pursuing my health, I don’t care what my method is.

At home workout bonus: my kid plays witness to an active and healthy lifestyle and can join in. I’ll pay another $99/year for that gem.

Feb13

Put down the scissors, girl.

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image1 When I first saw this photo, I was physically pained. I’m talking gut clenching, throat constricting, breath catching, eyes burning because I might cry type pain. And every time I look at this photo I have that same reaction. The harsh reality is there are girls who want to do this. There are women who are so into health and fitness because of body image that it impacts their daughters and women around them negatively. There are women who are so depressed with how they look that they let it define their happiness. They base how they feel on how they look instead of how they look on how they feel. Even when they’re doing something about it, they let that inner mean girl just bash every tiny roll or skin imperfection.

It’s difficult to witness.

I’m terrified for my daughter.

I struggle with self-acceptance. As much as I preach about it, I struggle sometimes, too. I have a difficult time taking compliments from people and I hate to admit it’s because of relationships. Our relationships largely define our mindset. They define how we speak to ourselves. The number of times I’ve been cheated on and played, it’s taken a hit on how open I am to dating. I don’t see how the next guy can see something attractive in me that previous guys couldn’t find good enough to stick around.

And it’s created an intense pickiness where I find very few men interest me enough to date.

How we let others treat us mimics how we treat ourselves. I no longer will let a man make me feel insignificant, small, unworthy, boring, incapable, or invisible. I no longer will allow a man to define his interest in me based solely on my body.

This goes beyond just dating, though. Family, friendships, and work place relationships all define how we see and speak to ourselves.

I still can’t get over how a guy I dated long-term never once complimented my worth (without someone telling him to) until I dropped from a size 5 to a size 0, and over 20lbs. Y’all, a size 5, 140lbs. at 5’5” isn’t that big when it’s mostly muscle and ass. I became bone thin. Was the guy waiting for me to cut off my fat?

I was now skinny fat and couldn’t take a compliment to save my life. The term “skinny” had such a rotten taste in my mouth—still does, some days. And his compliment: “You’re the hottest chick here. Don’t break up with me because every girl who does gets fat.” This is why when the only compliment a guy can give me is on my looks, I don’t stick around.

Health is rolls and health is bone. More importantly, health is how you fuel your body with food and activity. Health is how you speak to yourself.

I like people who want to bring me up because I like bringing others up. I want my daughter to be surrounded by people who bring her up. I want people who are in our corner cheering for us.

Behind this girl is a voice that says, “you’re not good enough,” that’s drowning out the voice that’s yelling, “Damnit you are MORE than enough.”

But I’ll fucking shout it: YOU ARE MORE THAN ENOUGH.

Nov1

No thanks money bags.

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There is nobody who runs faster from a man with money than me. To most girls, a guy who has a sizeable bank account is a plus…or maybe the reason she chooses him. Most fathers want to know their daughters are secure financially and would love for her to date a man with money, albeit a respectful man. Then there’s me. I don’t do guys with money. Nobody swipes left faster on a guy who dresses, acts, or claims to have money than I do. I bolt faster than Usain. Money doesn’t always mean responsible. To me, a man with money equals manipulation, condescension, and disrespect.

I can’t do money, i don’t do professional athletes (retired or not), I can’t do single fathers, I can’t do bums. But only one of those do I find an acceptable excuse to immediately write off a guy. No, I’m not happy that I immediately have reserves about the other two—I don’t like to make a habit of judging, conscious of it or not.

Sometime in the spring of 2017 I went out with a guy who had money. And he never forgot to remind me. He drove from Flint to Chelsea during rush hour—and he didn’t let me forget that either, that’s strike one—to take me out to dinner. He had me download a song that “just spoke to him”: Kane Brown’s Better Place. Said it’s what he wanted to give a girl. Throughout dinner we discussed goals, where we wanted to live one day. And he flat out said: “I’m number two in the world for sales, I’m not fucking moving. You’re going to have to live with being Betty Crocker because I’m not leaving my work unless someone guarantees to match what I’m making and what I’m making is too good for anyone to match. Grand Rapids is out.” First date. First fucking date and this mofo is already telling me where I’m moving to and that I’ll be quitting my job because there’s no way I can make more than him and he wants the wife home with the kids–oh yes, that was said, too.

I couldn’t leave that date fast enough. I had no idea he had money, though a very large part of me believes he was overexaggerating, and I quickly got petty to make it go downhill and for him to be done.

And do I mean petty.

He had a beer gut. He had commented about how he is on some plan to lose weight, who he used to be in college, how a desk job has just given him a belly. I love fitness and health, I’ll talk about it all day, but he disagreed—according to him I knew very little about fitness and lifting (I had difficulty gaining weight then still and was 5’5” weighing 120lbs. and that alone was his argument). I started asking if he really wanted that dessert. Did he really think it was a good idea for his future wife and future health for him to stay “behind a desk” at a sales role? When he mentioned he could run faster than me: “Oh? You can do 120 yards in less than 10 seconds 10 times in a row with only a 60 second break in between, and a mile in less than six minutes?” and I looked him up and down as I said it. He turned red. Oh yeah, I got petty af.

And I’m not proud of it. I’ve never been one to judge someone so blatantly on looks or weight—I don’t even notice weight with people unless they show a change in weight.

PS I’m fast and competitive, don’t tell me I’m not unless you feel like knocking heads with a bull.

One thing to piss me off more than anything with any guy is to attach a monetary value to goals and success and how decisions in a relationship will be made. I may never make as much as him, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t have a say in my lifestyle. And he’s sure as hell not going to tell me how to raise my kid whom he’s never met yet.

Don’t preach how you want to give me a picket white fence or city lights, whichever I want, if your job and ego are really making the decision. I’m out.

And it was the FIRST FUCKING DATE. Did I mention that? Way too soon to be talking. Yikes.

Yet, this wasn’t the first incident or the first guy to turn me away from money.

I’ll never forget when I passed the test. I was dating a guy who was a firm believer in not going dutch—he paid, every time, and I was not to argue about it. I’m fairly neutral about this. I am always willing to pay and I make it known but it doesn’t bother me who pays until it’s something expensive. Like a road trip, sports game, concert, hotel, and bar hopping all within 24 hours. This time I didn’t just offer a couple times, I put my foot down. His response: “Good. You passed the test.” What? He was happy to find out I wasn’t with him for money. Let’s be clear, he had a stable income and made more than me—wasn’t hard, I was a full-time server with a 22-credit college load—but he was by no means wealthy. Our relationship didn’t last long after that weekend.

He may have been able to trust me but I lost trust in him.

Rule of thumb: I don’t want to know you have money until we’re months in, when we both know it’s not about the money.

Money is not a conversation I care to discuss.

I won’t even ever choose to have a first date in a nice restaurant.

I won’t get in a car with a guy who drives a very nice car as a means to show off his finances.

I don’t accept flowers from guys who buy them out of ease and regularity because he was getting them for his mother so why not get them for his girl, too. Stop. Don’t. I’d rather no gift at all.

Let me know you want to know me. Don’t bribe me and treat me like another accessory to your perfect white picket fence life. If I’m so replaceable for you to buy the next girl, I’d rather you not even look my way.

It’s crazy to me how folks are so surprised to learn that I love camping and the outdoors because they’ve somehow pegged me as this luxury gal…until they know me. I don’t need money, I’m more interested in connecting with a guy. Money might bring security but it’s never been my language.  I want to know that if the money were to all disappear, the guy would still stick around and be interested. I want to know he’s not trying to dress me with his money as just another means to impress others. I want to know his money isn’t how he identifies himself. It’s sure as hell not how I identify myself.

Besides, I’m a girl who has a borderline phobia to commitment. Any commitment. The only commitment I’ve ever been able to make is to motherhood. I’m not about to commit myself to green dyed paper.

May4

I’d Rather Wait.

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The latest dating news: I’m high maintenance. Label courtesy of a guy I’ve never met.

Last weekend a guy I hadn’t even talked to much wanted to meet up, and by meet up I mean he wanted me to drive 45 minutes or so to his house. When I told him I don’t meet guys for the first time at their place of residence, the conversation went downhill fast. It’s simply not something I’m comfortable with when I first meet the guy off a dating app. I’m a mom. A policeman’s daughter. I’m not stupid. It’s a rule of mine to meet the guy in a public place—isn’t this normal? Let’s be honest, even if the guy was to drive to me, I don’t want him knowing where I live.

So we got in a little argument.

His defense: He’d meet me outside and we’d drive into downtown together. Apparently, it’s what “normal people” do. Good thing I’ve never cared to be “normal.”

He continued to say, and I’ll quote because yes, he asked me out via social media not via a phone call so I actually still have the message (I really need to learn to delete things regularly): “And no, I’m sorry but you’re to much and to high maintenance. You live at home and have a child, which nothing wrong with that. But damn, you’re way to high maintenance lol geez.”

  1. Glad he uses the proper “you’re” so props there.
  2. It’s too bad he can’t get the to vs. too straight.

You can bet your ass I told him he doesn’t stand a chance with me….after I may have told him if that’s his definition of high maintenance then he’s a little too selfish for me. Like I said, I’m a mom. I’ve already dealt with a few crazies. I do try to be smart about dating, no matter how dumb my choices in guys I seem to go after.

Is this real life, though? How many folks are willing to meet someone for the first time at home, without having much of a conversation with them prior? It’s a crazy concept to me. I can understand if you have mutual friends or you’ve been talking for a few weeks and have stalked them on social to verify or met in public prior or have roommates over when arrives…but hello hives and twisted gut. Maybe I’ve heard too many human trafficking stories and read too many crime novels, watched one too many Criminal Minds episodes.

Not to mention there’s that last blog post where I said the guy would have to prove himself. I wasn’t joking. Like hell I’m driving 45 minutes last minute—oh yes, forgot that detail, he really set himself up for failure here—to meet a guy at 9pm who hasn’t tried to hold a conversation prior to meeting. I’d rather be asleep or reading.

So here’s my latest dating thought and tip, from a girl who’s notoriously single: wait. Just wait for the person who is willing to work with you. Whether it’s to meet up for the first time or years into the relationship. Wait. You should want to give in to the person you’re committed to, make sacrifices for them, but they should simultaneously be wanting to do the same thing. It’s that selfless love that lasts, or so I like to believe. Wait for the person who wants to understand how your mind works and works to break down your defenses. When you meet a guy for the first time, it’s often the best impression you’ll get from them. Sometimes it’s just an impression, an act. Other times, if you’re lucky, it’s a glance into who they really are and a future.

Wait for the one who is willing to put you first and let you shine. Who wants to dream alongside you and know you fearlessly. If the guy really wants to meet you, he won’t force you into an uncomfortable situation. Wait for the one who is willing to wait for you (but don’t keep him waiting for long because then you’re the asshole).

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.”