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.

Aug11

The Ambitious Factor.

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It is so terribly hard to be single in a society that wants you to be with someone, especially as a single mom. Everyone wants me to end up with someone. Everyone wants me to have a guy to “take care” of me and my daughter. Everyone wants me to have someone to share my life with and build a life with. The truth: yes, I would love that too, but not so bad that I’m willing to settle for it.

My boss and I at least once a month seem to catch up on my dating life. He likes to make sure I keep a stable head and not jumping into relationships with guys who aren’t worth my time. These chats typically happen after he’s been gone a week on a golf trip or after I blog and he’s like “What the fuck, Tiffany? What were you thinking talking to that guy?” I know, folks think it’s weird my boss and I can have such conversations openly and candidly but honestly, I need that dose of reality and from someone I respect. It’s a nice change from everyone else trying to set me up with guys that I’m not at all interested in. Which leads me to my latest dating tip from my boss because he actually nailed the one thing that’s holding me back from dating a lot of guys: ambition.

There are a few traits that I often find attractive in guys that are a total weakness to me: trimmed beards, athletic, willingness to help others, outgoing, respectful, great with kids, drives a truck, tattoos, not a scrub, enjoys the country, blah blah blah. But until that conversation, I didn’t even know why I had this feeling in my bones that kept holding me back from giving guys a try the last few months.

Very rarely do I meet men who are as ambitious as me (I know, my ego is unreal). It seems people are so easily okay with just settling in life and I’m not. People so badly want a 9-5 job and leave it at that. I don’t. I’ve never worked just 40 hours a week in my life, I think. And I can never just “leave my work” at the office. I get bored. I get antsy. My mind is always going. I need to work 50 hours at the minimum to even remotely feel like I’m going somewhere with my career…and that’s the kicker, I always want to be going somewhere. I’m not thrilled with the idea of dating a guy who doesn’t have goals outside of fitness and travel. “Travel the world” doesn’t mean a lot to me unless there’s a reason behind it—write a book, learn and embrace new culture, participating in charity. And when it comes to fitness….I can’t really get behind the “I just want to be bigger” mentality.

Give me a guy who wants to do something with his life.

I also can’t get behind the whole Netflix marathon shit and sleeping the weekend away. I dated a guy last fall where Saturdays were spent in bed—get your mind out of the gutter, he slept the day away typically and I either worked or read or left for a few to just get out. Being stagnant isn’t something I’m good at. I don’t have it in me. I don’t mind a Netflix marathon for a night or a day but not every weekend. Most nights I don’t get to bed until after 11pm and I’m up by 5am the next day—that’s being conservative, too—and then I’m go go go all day. Weekends might be a tad slower but I’m always making moves. I have no plans to slow down, I want someone to move with me….and not have to hold their hand.

And here we have the first lie of the bunch: ambitious people who don’t make moves. Talk about an oxymoron. Folks who have these goals and talk about going places and where they want to be but don’t take action. I’m a firm believer in will power and mind over matter. You just get up and do. You can talk all day about your goals and how you’re going to get there but until you work for them, you’re not going anywhere.

How do I find motivation? I force myself. “No” isn’t an option. Not succeeding isn’t an option. Not getting shit done, isn’t an option. I don’t want to hear about how you’re going to be a sales leader or own your own company one day but then constantly complain about working or turning down opportunities left and right to actually go somewhere. Please keep the negativity and laziness outside of my bubble.

Mostly, I’m waiting for the guy who wants to motivate me. Support is one thing, respect is another thing, but motivating goes a long way. It’s empowering. Help me get up at 5am so I can workout before work. I don’t want the guy who wants me to come back to bed or wants me to come out to the bar every night. Push me to be better. Call me out on shit that isn’t benefiting me. Hell, a guy who calls himself out on shit, that’s hot.

Have high standards.

I’ve been called shallow because I won’t date guys who don’t care about their health. High standards, health is important to me. I’m big into fitness and eating healthy and having a positive mind because I want to be around for a while for my kid. I show up.

I show up everyday for myself and for my kid. Everyday. Whether she’s with me or not. No matter how tired I am I get up out of bed. No matter how late it is I will get my workout in before the day is over. I will squeeze in the run to the grocery store so Evelynn has her berries and cheese and peanut butter, even if it means carrying her with one arm throughout the store as she naps. At times, I run myself thin to get shit done but I don’t regret it. I haven’t yet because I know one day it will all pay off.

I told myself I was going to be strong and lead by example. I told myself I was going to be selfish with my life and time because if Evelynn ever grew up and found herself in my situation, a single mom, I want her to do the same. I don’t want her to give up on her goals. I don’t want her to get lost on the couch and give up because life got hard and it can be lonely. Hell no. I would want her to chase her dreams and go after life. I would want her to have goals. I would never want her to settle for a man because society told her she needs to “end up with someone.”

I would want her to show up and be somebody, not coast through life. And I’m not willing to take time away from her or away from my goals to give guys who aren’t ambitious a try.

I think I’ll keep my high standards even if it means I’m “missing out” on love in my twenties and growing old with someone.

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.”

Apr4

Sometimes I need a break from me.

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I breathe confidence and my favorite motto is “you are enough.” People closest to me, & even those who don’t know me well but know me enough, will likely tell you I’m the girl who knows who she is & who knows her worth. I’m here to tell you it’s not always like that.

I’ve been called conceited, which is crazy to me because more often than not when I look in the mirror, I see my flaws & all my faults staring back at me. I see rejection. I see the labels & I see the negative stigmas attached to them.

I don’t always feel strong. I don’t think I’m by any means gorgeous. I don’t think I have a killer body.

& that’s okay.

Society might tell me I’m too skinny but I need abs. I need to clear up any acne. I need to smile more. I need bigger boobs. I need round hips & an ass like J.Lo’s. I need long legs but if I want to be a mermaid I can’t have a thigh gap.

Then again, society might also tell me I’m perfect. I’m strong. I can cry whenever. I should eat that pint of ice cream. I need to own this bitch face. I should wear no makeup & love my skin but I need to make sure I moisturize. Yet I rarely (I’ll be optimistic because never say never) see a well-known virtual fitness coach without makeup in workout videos or celebrities on the carpet without perfect skin.

Society wants to tell me a lot of things, whether it’s to cut me down or to build me up.

Society doesn’t know me.

I’m sick of society telling me when & how to love myself. I’m sick of society telling me it’s okay to fall apart.

That’s not okay.

When I was in college I had a really shitty soccer coach. We had over a dozen players quit after my first season. He had a glass eye and a lazy eye. He was an ass & he benched some of the best players consistently. The only language he spoke was kissing ass. It killed me to contemplate quitting soccer but my dad was the one who told me, “Tiffany, it’s clear you don’t love the game anymore & it seems to me he took that from you. I can tell you all day that I think you’re a great player. Your mom can tell you. Your past coaches can tell you. Your teammates can tell you…but at the end of the day it only matters what you think & believe. You are your last defense. You must be the one believing, or you will always question what others tell you.”

So here’s my belief.

  • Yes, I’m confident to almost the point of cocky and if that comes off as conceited because I take selfies, so be it. No, the selfies don’t mean I think I’m beautiful or want to be a model (I actually shy away from most cameras) but I’ll still take them because it’s my way of building myself up sometimes—it’s my way of saying to myself, this is how I look and that’s amazing.
  • Yes, I’m skinny but I’m also fairly fit & I can wear size zeros without listening to jokes about me throwing up—newsflash: I’ve actually never been one of the girls to do that (& stop shaming the ones who have by making jokes, talk about poor taste. Pun intended).
  • I will never have an ass like J.Lo’s, I accepted that feat a while back.
  • Do I want bigger boobs? Hell yeah! But guess what? I’m okay with having these small ones, too. I’ve lived with them this long.
  • No, I don’t have to go to the gym daily.
  • Yes, I will eat whatever I want & if that’s healthy food because I love eating healthy, that’s okay. If I crave hotdogs, I’ll pig out on some hotdogs.
  • I’m going to smile as I please & I’m going to own this resting bitch because it’s my face.
  • I’m not going to cry when I feel like it because I hate crying & for me, I do believe it’s a sign of weakness & that’s okay. Do I care if others cry? No. Cry all you want. Will I feel uncomfortable & want to run? Quite possibly. (Don’t judge me for it if I do, my apologies in advance.)
  • I don’t always love my skin & that’s okay. I’ll wear makeup when I feel like it & I’ll go makeup free when I feel like it.
  • I’ll continue to hashtag the hell out of single mom status because I’m doing it, I’m making it, & there’s comfort in knowing I’m able to. Doesn’t take away from other moms, it’s just my status & my situation. & no, it doesn’t mean I’m desperate.

There’s power in reality. There’s great vibes in knowing who you are. There’s great vibes in trying to find yourself. There’s comfort in knowing I’m human, I have flaws & I can handle not always liking what I see.

There’s power in doing things & seeing things for me.

So fuck society. I don’t want to be perfect & I don’t always want to be me. It’s called getting better.

Sometimes I need a break from me.

Who will I wake up to be tomorrow? The girl who wants to spend a day reading with a coffee in hand or the girl pulling a 14-hour day & up at 4:34 a.m.? The girl wearing eyeliner & lipstick or the one with a fresh face & not a touch of makeup? The girl craving 3 hotdogs or drooling over a salad?

We underestimate the power of choosing & being who we want to be, not who we were made to be.

Society can tell me to be me & stay me all day. I’d much rather evolve & change as I want.

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