When Good Things Come To An End

"Doctor says she's, what do you call it, lost the strive for life? Lost the luster for life?" His voice is a surprisingly positive tone as he describes the condition of the love of his life. "I mean, she talks to me just fine and all, but just kind of lies there in the bed when the doctors and staff come in."

I work in health insurance in a department that caters to an older clientele. This isn't my first end-of-the-line love story.  The unhappy ending to a chance-encounter-2-year-engagement-blissful-wedding-2.5-kids-and-a-dog-numerous-fights-numerous-makeups love stories we're sold on TV and in books-then-movies. I'm just impressed that he can talk about her condition with such composer.

"But no, I won't be moving her. She wouldn't be able to take it, you know? [Nervous chuckle] I mean, she fell at the last place. They didn't have the 'round-the-clock care she's getting now, you see. She's got, what is it, heart problem- congenial? Congenital? She had a stroke last month so we had her in the hospital for a bit. She got out, then had her fall. So, no, can't move her [uncomfortable chuckle]."

"All right, sir, well if you're all set then-" I tried to regain direction of the conversation but to no avail as he adds,

"You know I even tried to get her in the car to go see the Christmas lights- she loved those!- but she wouldn't get out of the bed. Just sat up and watched TV." His tone dropped to a more truthful, somber tone.

"Um, sir? I-" How do you mourn the loss of a living person? "Well, all right, then thank you I am all se- uh huh, good bye." He chokes out in between my nervous stuttering.

He's reaching the ending of his love's story. 

Shots in the Dark

Rando: Hello, remember me?

Me: [Super excited the really cute guy I met a while back and kind of called him a sleazy jerk trying to chase skirts- but tequila makes me honest so it was his fault for buying the first three rounds- begins to text him, then figures it would be a really good idea to check time sent...] *1:51am??*

[Sighs. Deletes text and phone number]


[Resolves to be single forever and order her crazy cat lady starter kit first thing in the morning.]

Read between the lines

My mom is on online dating [Stop. Focus].

She commented on one suitor's profile:

"Wow, issues?"

When asked to elaborate, she read his profile allowed, "Would like someone honest; that would be nice for a change."

Yup, issues.

Friend-tervention

"I just don't want to see you in the same position when I met you a year ago." Opening with a heavy sigh, he delivered- by far- the most accurate, poignant, thought-with-action provoking request I've ever received. 

For those of you who are new to this blog

(greetings and welcomes abound!),

a year ago, when I met this fast-formed and true friend,

I was in very much what would be considered a pit

in the overall ups and downs of life. The equivalent of

publically walking enchained and chaperoned by my captor,

I was living a night terror with no sound escaping

my lips and seemingly no way to wake.

So, Quinto had a point. What's the point of following a storyline only to come to the sad and disappointing realization that this story line will eventually flat-line?   There will be no great coming-of-age discovery, no grand self-proclamation, realization, affirmation, or even a blip on some life radar.

This cryptic mess of an entry is to say that I am tired of being a 2 dimensional character in my own story. Very much time for a turner point, wouldn't you all agree?

Better than the bars...

Guy on the online dating site states he is new to this. His profile snippet is "I am serious and I am looking for someone to marry."


Appreciate the honesty and directness...


                                                                  ...Gotta go!

Not for sale.

The pole dance studio where I take lessons was featured at a local art expo. I invited friends to come watch and cheer me on. The place was packed with young professionals, so my friend who works in local politics fit right in in his suit and tie.  Another chick friend joined me on the stage for a demo with one of the instructors. She noticed him looking at his phone. "Hey!" she squealed, "what are you doing?! Don't look at that, look at this (pointing to me in my scantaly clad attire)!"

"What? This is work," he fires back looking at her then back at his phone. He should have stopped there, but then adds, "I gotta do this to pay for that," he gestures up to me mid upside down spin.

I then dismount the pole and, while wearing full on kitten platform heels and the outfit to match, interject with "Hey, um, just to clarify: I'm not for sale."

A man of his word.

"I'm a man of my word."

I should've ran in the opposite direction at this sound bite, but instead of listening to my allergic reaction to bullshit, I stuck around and for those of you who know me personally, we all know how much of a sh^t show that turned out to be.

Rock. Bottom.

I'm going to go ahead and let you all know that this online dating thing is getting absolutely depressing.  The two persons I've messaged back because they met my minimal requirements (at least 6' or taller, not ugly, employed, and educated college or higher) were both in the teaching profession (super cute) and have both stopped messaging me back (super depressing).

I can only take that to mean that I am meant for the well off a$$ holes I tend to entertain in real life as I am too whatever or not good enough for the more normal, nicer guys. Sadness.




Utter. Rock. Bottom.

Is that physically possible?

My former supervisor caught me aimlessly glancing at children and baby clothes display of a visiting retail vendor located by the office cafeteria.

"Shopping for baby clothes?" He playfully asked.

I can only describe my physical reaction through the thought that followed that inquiry:

"Did my uterus just literally throw up in itself?"

For I had felt a very sharp, sudden pain in my lower abdomen, as if my uterus was rejecting whatever imaged contents at the idea of child rearing.

"Oh no, not for me at least." I politely answered my former super before escaping away from that madness.

I wasn't prepared for this...

I'm out of both wine and flour. Bake and drink night is ruined.



I'm inconsolable.

At this point...

At this point, I should stop politely refilling my glass and just get a squiggly straw to finish off this bottle of wine.

New Year's Resolution List: Part 2

Next year I resolve to:

2) Have a backbone. Finally. Have. A backbone.  Resist the temptation to miss out on mediocre.  So instead of people telling me, "You know you deserve/can do better, right?" They can say, "Amazing! Finally! A perfect match! I am not embarrassed for you as much anymore."

Cheers.

New Year's Resolution List: Part 1

Getting started on my New Year's Resolutions List. These are in no particular order. Should I accomplish all these tasks in the coming year, and maintain most of these behaviors for the years to come, I should be off to a better a start and a better life in no time.

Let's start real simple.

This year, I resolve to:

1) No longer pretend to see the good in people. If you're a sh*tty person, you're a sh*tty person. I won't lie to myself and try to see the good where no good lies. This is an exhausting practice that's gone unrewarded [if not only punished] long enough. 

This Dance Again

So you're home once more for the holidays. Perhaps I'll be invited to attend. To sit by your side, not just as a friend. 

Maybe if we cross under a bundle of mistletoe, perhaps I could lay that one menacing wonder finally to rest.

Since you're home for the holidays.


But, more likely, as always, I will be peeking through the frosted glass window into your happy life. I will shiver from the chilled winds of rejection. Knowing all to well that I may not be the best fit, I am certainly a better match than your normal selection of beauty and niceties.

So once more, we do this dance, though I sway on the outskirts of your stage, I continue to wait patiently should your hand ever extend my way.

No Words.

I told him the truth about why I react how I react when I see him. I don't think he liked my answer very much. Probably because it involves a guy who's definitely not him. A guy who definitely didn't spend as much


time,



nor invested as much  $$ in nights out. Anyway, he was really upset with me when I told him the truth. The truth I knew he wouldn't favor, but I couldn't keep from him any longer. After all, he was asking. Can't say it was his right to know that I had moved on, but he had asked, and I couldn't flat out lie.

So when he wrote that I had no integrity, all I could do is gape at the screen in awe and confusion.


After telling the truth, I took the brunt of his anger and frustration head on, his words stampeding through my mind. An angry barrage of chaotic words and accusations. An attack on my value as a human being. I had given him the truth knowing full well this would be my reward.  As I shifted through his angry words, all I could only whisper my confused response:



                      I don't think he knows what the word integrity means. . .

What Constitutes "Adult Behavior" Exactly?

Things fell through with an older fella I was wasting time with earlier this year. Below is one of the highlights of the text-off.  This is what I get for telling the truth, regardless of the consequences...

Text: "I thought you were a mature woman. Turns out your just a casual little girl..."

[Pause] [Cringe] [Then forgive the misuse of "your"]

[React]: "Didn't you send me a dick pic?!"




In his defense, said dick pic was as R rated as one could get with this kind of shot, but still. Keep it in your pants and off digital media, sir.

Revenge Plot

Never get mad nor even.

                                                   Get better and be fabulous.


Cheers.

Tell me you love me

When you're sober, you're referring to all of me-the good, the bad, the ugly, the very ugly, the crazy, the good-kind-of-crazy- and when you mean it.


Jack@ss.

How I feel most nights out....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Truth

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Or they don't match my outfit.

Friend Zoned.

Due to recent events, I feel it is very important I put my feelings about what it means to be "friend zoned" (by me) down in black and white and published all over.

If I like you, care about you, want good things for you, want to see you happy, pray for you, and generally enjoy your company, then let me let you in on a little secret: we are friends.


If I am hoping I am out before dawn, I never learn your middle name (you have a middle name?!), and that I don't stumble into your roommate during my escape only to find out he's "the hot one," etc.. News flash: we're not friends, and you serve only one purpose.


I don't mix the two "zones". I don't like mixing the two zones. If you mix the two zones, I drop out the middle part of that latter zone description and that "one purpose" pumps up to several purposes and before you know I'm imagining what future offspring may look like and if I'd want to take on your last name or hyphenate (Hyphenate.)

So yea, cut the sh*t and know your role.

Cheers.

[Grand]Mother Knows Best

I recently took up cooking. I know, at this age it's not really a hobby and more of a "yea, duh, you're an adult now; and this is a basic survival skill," but, honestly, I think the ability to get dinner out of an unsuspecting suitor and seamlessly slip away into the night before he has a clue but he definitely has the check is a pretty necessary skill to have, but I digress.

Like any novice cook, I have a ton of questions [for example, I called my mom from the grocery store because I didn't know what scallions are]. One of those questions really stems from an observation:

You ever notice how your mother will suggest one way to prepare a meal [, a career, a life, a man, a family, and the list goes on] and your grandmother will suggest a completely different way of preparing the same meal [, career, life, man, family, etc.]?

So whose wisdom do you heed? Who got it right and who got it...mmmm, not so right?
Funny how women will spend a lifetime nurturing a child only to have her grow up to declare, ever so boldly, "f*ck pot roast, we're doing Tof-erkey for dinner!" and other variations of rebellion [in career choices, life choices, "man? pffft, who needs one?!", etc.]

It's always interesting to find out who knows best. Who knows, right?

#NOvember

So for about 6 years now I have been complaining about the quality (really, the lack there) of guys I have been wasting (an exorbitant amount of) time on dating or generally associating myself with at the wee hours of the weekend nights.

Sick of my repetitive mistakes, a friend challenged me to give the whole "single" thing the good ol' college-try.

So, this November will become NOvember. No nothing. Just friends [like, actual platonic ones] and my hobby of baking.

I am looking forward to it.  I mean, I'm tired betting on the same losing horse. I don't even like gambling, so what's the point?  I keep saying, "I want a worth-while guy. Someone for whom I am enough. Someone who values me as a person," then I go running into the arms of the next smooth-talking guy with the capacity for sincerity and an eye-for-value of a used-car salesman.

[Shrugs] Enough is enough.  If you say you want something. First, mean it. Then, act on it.


Boom. #NOvember.

Eaves Dropping

In hind sight, the subject matter wasn't exactly "bar talk" appropriate; nonetheless Quinto delivered a noteworthy pep talk about self-advancement and improvement. Unfortunately, he delivered this rousing speech in a packed bar during Sunday night football:

Quinto: "Just take a month off to be alone, ya know? Just be single for a little bit. Use your pile of vibrators to get you through the lonely nights and just be- and that guy was listening way too intently!"

[I glance behind me to meet the half open, fully drunk eyes of a keenly listening male attendee. He grumbles a few words, the clearest being "pile of vibrators?"]

Quinto: "See he's gonna try, not knowing he's gotta wait a full month!"

"He's got no chance," I interject.

Quinto: "No chance?"

 [I shake my head 'no' and add]: "No need to string him along nor give him any false hope. Let's just squash that idea right now."

Quinto:  "Ok, well, true and good he has no chance, but any other Roomba has to wait at least a month."

Breast Meat

One splendid Saturday night in NYC, I met a handsome, successful, educated young blue-eyes-with-a-bright-smile man whom I promptly abandoned at the pub so that I could make a necessary (necessary because I hadn't eaten since noon that day) Fried Chicken run. When I returned to collect my friend whom I had left there at the pub with the this guy's friend, I met them all outside.


Bucket in hand, I told him that I realize the stereotypical this moment appeared, but the chicken was so d@mn good, and no, I am not sorry.

This statement probably would've sufficed to save the moment....had it not been for his friend in the background laughing hysterically while choking out, "So she left you...for chicken? She left you for chicken? She seriously LEFT YOU for CHICKEN?!?!" in between gasps for air and his belly laughter.


It was some darn good chicken, though. No joke.

Online Dating Sites

It's like bringing the bar to your smartphone.


Except you now have the ability to see how many spelling and grammatical errors your potential suitors make. So that's good.

Girl [Space] Friend

I go back with a friend to his place to join his other guests for a horrible movie night in. Three couples greet us. One of the girls asks me how I know the host, and I explain we went to school together. Dissatisfied with my straightforward answer, she pries a little more:

Party Goer: "Oh, so you're his giiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiirrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrlllllllllll-?"

I kid you not, she holds this question for a solid minute and a half.

Me [after shaking off how long she's holding that syllable, reply]: "Girl who's a friend."

Party Goer: "Gotchya."

Pictures say 1000 words

Credit: Tamsin-Marie Photography


Walking away from all the bs.

Hand Placement

I don't know how else to put this.

Fellas:  I am not your girlfriend. Do not go for the "polite" a$$ grab during a "friendly" hug. Yes, I notice your strategic cuppage and that slight pause you take to gauge the chances of my wearing underwear. Knock it the f*ck off. Skootch that hand up five clicks to a lovely place called "The Friend Zone".




Cheers.

This Is A Terrible Idea

In his black wool winter coat, pressed button up, and khaki slacks, Quinto emerged out of the buzzing crowd, took the cigarette out of his mouth, looked me in the eye and with a surprising amount of sober sincerity considering the night's activities said to me, "I just want to go on record as saying that this is a bad idea. That's all." Waved himself off before replacing the cigarette between his lips and disappearing once more into the crowd.

Ever since then, before I make any obvious drunk and stupid decision, I hear Quinto's voice of reason, admit that he was as right as he would be now, and gracefully exit-stage-left the situation.


And then last night happened....and no amount of reason nor foresight could deter my determination....crap.

Product Placement.

Every time I log off of Facebook, I'm greeted with an ad from Match.com inviting me to meet local singles. All I can say at this point is, "Facebook, did my mother put you up to this?"

Charmed.

Text from one Casanova: Hey it's me - you still looking for a good lay tonight?


Just take a moment and let that reality sink in. Yea. That's what my love life has been reduced to. 


One charming mother f*cker, isn't he?

A Letter to the City Slickers

Dear sirs of the city: if you look weird, act weird, and come up to my shoulder, please do not approach me unless the first words out your mouth are, "I have her tab for the night, bartender."

First Date Inquiry

What's a polite way of telling him, "in case you turn out to be psychotic or boring, I want an escape plan in place. Let's take two cars and meet there."?

Street Crossing

Totes just watched a guy guide his girlfriend away from the street side as oncoming traffic approached and let her walk on the inside/storefront side of the sidewalk while she unknowingly gabs on about some nonsense. He then tenderly took her hand and watched for traffic as she continued to blather on as they crossed the street.


And yes, I'm balling my eyes out at the absolutely unnoticed but incredibly sweet gesture.

Skipping This Trend

So the newest thing, supposedly, is to recreate childhood pictures 20+ later. Unfortunately, I was very much "the naked baby" in my early years...so...yea. I guess I'll pass on this trend...

The Things We Do for Love

The morning radio personalities did a segment on things men should do for women out of love. The married DJ read off a list of small, but kind gestures men can do to show his girl that he loves her. One of those items is 'hold her purse'.

So to that end, kudos to the man holding the small, very pink Disney princesses purse for his young daughter.

Full Circle

"On ne voit bien qu'avec le cœur. L'essentiel est invisible pour les yeux"
                                           From Le Petit Prince by Antoine Saint-Exupéry

I grew up hearing the melodic tones of French, France-French, flow eloquently and fluently from my mother's lips. She was never speaking directly to anyone, anyone present anyway, but (unbeknownst to her) I could sit there for hours listening to her sing-song conversation she was streaming while lost in thought, no doubt, about that day's lesson or a conversation with a colleague or what have you (again, I don't speak the language so I will never know the contents of her many conversations).

I remember seeing various Spanish and French literary works on our bookshelves (Candide, Cien años de soledad, just to name a few). One book in particular stood out- probably because I could recognize one of the words for its English equivalent, the other reason being the illustration depicting a small boy- who looked about my age when I first discovered the novel- featured on the cover page.

"The Little Prince" I remember my mother translating. "What's it about" I naturally inquired, to which I'm sure she gave her best, simpliest description of the philosophical, classical masterpiece. I of course have no idea what she said, but I do remember still not understanding the draw to the story, yet still wanting to know what happened to the little boy on an asteroid who looked like he was my age.

So here we are, some (many) years later and I am flipping through various blogs on social network sites when what do I find? An excerpt, randomly (auspiciously?) quoted (needlessly quoted) on one of the artsy pages (surprise).

Perhaps it's time to pick up a translated copy and join the on-going conversation whispered between authors of yore, their wise-ol' words resonating through the decades often landing on the deaf ears multiple generations (though occasionally, I am sure a few ears perk up and head the authors' caveats of love, life, politicians and power, and of course unexplainable magic that still lurks in the shadows of even the most modern of times).

Since I am at this age, probably (and hopefully) more than ever in need of clear and purposeful vision, learning to listen to my heart, as I am most certain my eyes will do me no good to navigate through this murky and uncertain stage in my life, I feel I can finally learn from this Little Prince the lessons that were lost on my young(er) self when I first stumbled upon this curious, playfully insightful character.

I am looking forward to the read.

Chasing Tail

Saw a bunny rabbit, equipped with a white-cotton tail, in a yard while walking my pup. A fire fly soon flickered near by the rabbit. Two of my favorite things to chase in the summer twilight were chillin' in the same yard at that exact. moment.

I could not have been happier to enjoy that pure moment.


So yea, I like to chase tail. (Shrugs.)

Getting Dirty...

I like to garden. I find it relaxing. I often tend to my tomato plants, rose, and other miscellaneous vegetation when I get home from work. Sometimes I water my water and replant pots while wearing my dress clothes (not my heels though, those come off immediately).

So yea, (shrugs) I like to get dirty.

Give Good Face

"She has such a great face. This is so editorial. I'm a fan."

A compliment I received on a photo taken at a recent group-shoot. Tell me why it took 20+ years before I get this type of a compliment? Where was this noise back in kindergarten-senior year of high school?? 

[Shakes head] Anyway, I had to comment on the comment.

Stick 'Em Up!

Took a gentleman caller (GC) to a friend's graduation party.  It's your typical family cook out: food, music, and grilling. There were a few little ones running about as little ones are want to do. One little boy had an orange, toy squirt gun.

The music hummed in the background as the conversation of partygoers drowned whatever work and life worries that may have been a soft murmur left over from the previous workday.  It was shaping up to be a good time, I hope, for all.

At one point while engaged in conversation with the host and her family, I -for the most part- had lost track of the GC. He wasn't not far, maybe within arms reach, but out of the corner of my eye I could see he was definitely acting funny.  As I understood, this was his first time at a celebration of this sort, a graduation party, but I couldn't chalk his odd behavior up to this detail...

While standing in place, he would sporadically lean back, throw his hands up in the air shoulder height with a surprised and worried look on his face.  At 6+ feet with a broad shoulders and an handsome mug to boot, he very much stood out of the present crowd of general suburbanites.  He did that move once, then twice, finally upon the third time I had to inquire about the peculiar distraction (solely out of curiosity, not at all out of embarrassment. If you 've been reading along, you all know I have no right to be embarrassed by others considering how much I dish out).

Like a child about to be wrongfully scolded, he defended his actions by pointing to the small boy with the orange squirt gun and protests, "He was sticking me up," to which, on cue, the little boy sure enough aims and almost fires if it weren't for the attentive parent on whose lap the youngin' was positioned. I chuckle and shake my head to adorable scene between two people in two very different stages of life. I joke that he should not let someone 20 years younger and 200lbs lighter push him around and continued my present conversation.  He graciously handles being the butt of a joke in a yard full of complete strangers, my self included for that time being.

Some time passes, seats around the outside table open up, and GC and I take advantage of the chance to sit under the canopy shade. GC grabs the attention of a curiously friendly aunt, leaving me open...vulnerable...unaware that I had been watched the entire time...

For I have unexpectedly entered the cross-hairs of the pint-sized, gun-toting vagrant from earlier.  I gasp, knowing it's too late, he's locked eyes on his target and all I can do is hope he aims away from my freshly flat-ironed hair.  I throw my hands up, trapped between other party goers. No way out. This is it. When just as he takes aim for the top of hair and begins to pull the trigger, the ever-still attentive parent swats the toy off target allowing the water to splash on a nearby cooler. There is no description for the feeling of relief I relish in that moment, only to have it cut short by a very well deserved, yet polite, "See?" by a smiling, and absolutely correct GC.

Mr. Impossible

Because Mr. Right is damn near impossible to find, why not just go big?

I would like a man who:

1) Will teach me how to drive stick (as in manual gear shift, perv)
2) Is not lactose intolerant (you have no idea how often I run into this roadblock.)
3) Knows how to do the ballet fish pose (and he may need to teach me how to do it)
4) Speaks at least one foreign language (ideally the same one I speak)
5) Is tall
6) Has his sh*t together
7) Does not have issues with his mother/father/family/coworkers/siblings/self/neighbor/etc.
8) Seriously, has his sh*t.       Together.
9) Is within my age range (+3yr, -1yr)
10) Has a nice body and a great face
11) Is single
12) Is not full of himself
13) Has a big vocabulary and knows how to use it (euphemism)
14) Is a cunning linguist (euphemism)
15) Isn't stupid (this attribute can come in many forms, and I am referring to all forms)
16) Is single, straight, and responsible (again, broad description. Requirement encompasses all interpretations)
17) Is happy
18) Is a good dancer AND likes to dance. Publicly. With me. 
19) Is healthy and athletic, and makes healthy lifestyle choices
20) Is religious (preferably mine or one compatible with mine)
21) No kids. Unless they're his and mine, and I have a fat rock on the right finger from him. Otherwise, I can't. I won't.
22) Isn't needy. (Like seriously, get off my nuts and get a hobby.)
23) Has a great sense of humor. He will think I'm hilarious as well as keep me ROTFLMOA
24) Likes me in high heels or house slippers
25) Thinks all my other girlfriends are great girls, but not his type (sorry, ladies)
26) Smells awesome, even after a workout
27) Has a great smile and nice eyes to match
28) Is parent friendly
29) Is gainfully employed.
30) Has a passion and pursues it
31) Is supportive and inspires me to be better
32) Will not put me down in front of his friends (because I will lay him out in front of those same friends)
33) Can cook
34) Will actually cook for me
35) Treats me well

Also he must have the other half of this golden amulet....


Cheers.

Well This Is Nice

I'm all nervous and giddy and jittery and excited and nervous (again) and I think this means I have a crush. . .huh. . . .

[grins]

Trade Up

Trading in chocolate men for chocolate bars...

Smooth Move, Kid

As luck would have it, while out with some friends of mine, I ran into a dear college friend last night at a local posh lounge.  He is in the same dance company as the son of a celebrity. "You have to meet him," he half-insists/half-mandates, "I want you two to get married and have fabulous beige babies together!" With an uncomfortable giggle in my voice I respond, "haha, well maybe we should meet first," then more calmly add, "I can't wait too long, though," I reason," I don't want to keep my friends waiting." My college friend insists the pseudo-celeb will be right back and that I should wait to meet him. My friends are anxious to leave, and running out of reasons to stall for this slight-celebrity encounter (and slightly nervous now that apparently pressure and expectations are on), I protest I must go.

I bid my college friend adieu and turn to leave the establishment. As I round the slight corner before the exit, my path is blocked by a tall, handsome, kind faced young man who looks exactly like his celebrity daddy.

Swag levels turned up, I contort my face in a "I know your face, but not your name" expression that then remains because, soon after I realize I am giving a true and complete stranger the "I know your face, but-" look, it becomes apparent that he has no idea who the [bleep] I am...This awkward first encounter seems to last for 5 minutes, when in reality it may have only been a few moments before my friend thankfully saves me from myself and formally introduces us.

Smooth move, kid.

Glee, Journey, and Tears

It's Memorial Day Weekend. While many of my friends are off to warmer climates or classy big city parties, I am sitting in front of my new laptop (Thanks, Mom and Sis!) drawing a writer's block for my application essay to what-I can only hope-will be the next step to my successful future.

For background noise, I am emptying out my DVR. While watching an episode of Fox's Glee, "Dreams", as Rachel Barry belts out Journey's "Don't Stop Believing", I burst into tears.

I had a cathartic, I-am-scarred-of-the-world-and-who-I-am-and-who-(if ever)-I-will-become cry. 

Like many in my generation, I was sold a dream of go to college=get great job= be featured on MTV's Cribs.


Since the later two legs of this journey has not yet come to fruition, I feel I am at a frustrating standstill between adulthood and successful-adulthood.

I understand that happiness is a journey with peaks and pitfalls. I'm just wondering if I get everything I thought I ever wanted, will I actually be successful and happy?

Relax, FB, I got priorities.

Facebook has become my concerned Jewish/Italian mother who just wants to be a grandmother before the decade is out. I'm now getting advertisements to "Meet Faithful Black Men" who are "Looking for Faithful Black Women". Good grief, FB, relax. Sell me shoes, purses, or sugar daddys.

A Reminder for the Ladies.

Functional Pedicure

The one to three toes you paint because you, Ms. Fashionista, will be wearing peep toe shoes tonight but you, Ms. Crunched-for-time Fashionista, were never really good at planning ahead.

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall...

Your mirror should have stopped you before leaving this morning and asked "What do you think you are doing leaving this house in that outfit?"


Just sayin'

It's easier finding a foundation...

I just checked my Match.com account. [I'm not proud of what I just said.]


I specifically set my age range from 23-33. I'm getting "winked" at by men who are 36+ (more often in their 40s and 50s) looking for women in my age range. Great, we're half way there...Just to spell it out for you and Match: I'm not interested in "silver foxes" as indicated by my age rage preference.


It's easier finding a foundation that matches my complexion...

She Is Hope.

Walking down the main street of our city, making my way to the usual happy hour spot, I can't help but notice the weather very much matches the mood of the nation.

Only a few days have passed since the bombings At this point, one of the perpetrators is still at large. The city street mimicks a dreary scene in a Fitzgerald novel.  Our nation's and state's flaggs whip wildly in the piercing cold winds as mist droplets collect on my eyeglass lens.

I reach the corner where a light is about to change. Above me the flags whip violently in the vicious winds.  The outlines of the city buildings fade into the grey sky.  The flags are fighting against the wi to keep their vibrant colors, a symbol of our nation's pride.

A blue luxuary car, no longer in its full glory, sheepishly pulls up to the still changing light. It contains a family, mom behind the wheel with dad navigating from the front passanger seat.  Their child is in the back seat looking out the window with an age-appropriate childlike curiosity.  She is watching the outside world from the safety of her family's car with the same wide-eyed facination of an astronaut peering through her shuttle window.  The air isn't icey against her skin. The winds aren't biting at her cheeks. The outside world is still a marvelous wonder, even on this crap day. She is safe. She is warm and dry.   And she is willing to share a friendly smile and a polite wave with a complete stranger who is waiting for their car to pass.

I'm Sorry, Canada

I made a Canadian joke in an earlier post and I've since notice my fan base drop from that delightful country. So if I offended anyone, I am sorry. I'm not gonna remove the post- mostly because I'm not gonna go looking for it, but you all should know I love for you guys. Your country has it's own bacon for Christmas' sakes!


So, we cool? Yea, we cool.

Dedicated to the man I love

Ode to my fake boyfriend.

Though non-existent, he always seems to be there for me. . .like when some creepshow asks me if I have a boyfriend,

"Yup, he's huge, Black, angry, and licensed in 23 out of the 50 states."



Cheers.

Ridiculously high standards

I've decided to filter out the hum-drum and the boring, the undeserving and the "are you serious?" candidates by having ridiculously high standards.



-I want our first over-night encounter to be like the one between Emma Stone's and Ryan Gosling's characters in Crazy, Stupid Love.

-He must be as ridiculously suave, wealthy, and entertaining as Ryan Gosling's character in Crazy, Stupid Love.

-He must have Ryan Gosling's build as it is showcased in the Dirty Dancing scene in Crazy, Stupid Love, but on a 6'2" or taller frame.

-He must be AT LEAST bilingual: French and/or Spanish preferred.

Yes, I'm watching Crazy, Stupid Love while writing this post.


*Addendum: Preferably not  of any immediate Canadian descent (no offense to my Canadian fans; I've just had bad experiences with your kind.)


Unfortunately, that last requirement knocks Ryan Gosling out of the running, but it also eliminates JBiebs, so it's worth it.

That is all.

Don't feed the models! *fashion models

Just had chocolate cake for breakfast before my art gig.




                                                       BOOM  
                                                                             Art model win!!!

Feeling invincible

Just ran into my ex, sober and not with my car. If I can survive that while keeping (some) face, I am invincible.

Top hat.

Motherf*cker on the bus, no lie, was wearing 1) ergonomic shoes, windbreaker pants and jacket black and red respectively, lion's main printed shirt, and (wait for it) the finest motherf*cking camel colored velvet hat with white, chocolate colored ribbon detail.


Get on his level.

....NEXT!

Tonight I just literally ran away from the most physically attractive, intelligent, successful (read: it ain't trickin' if you got it), fine chocolate specimen of a man I believe I will ever encounter. . .



That must tell you a lot about his personality.

Rapper's delightful advice

Text message exchange after a night of light drinking with podcast producer friend, Quinto:

Me: I had 1.25 drinks last night and I feel like I had 3. Getting lame

Quinto: You begrudginly drank 1.25 drinks last night.

Me: Told you my body hasn't recovered from my bday week.
Me: I took 50 Cent's advice to heart that week.

Quinto: What was his advice?

Me: "Go, shawty, it's your birthday/ we gon' party like it's your birthday/ We gon' drink
       Ba'cardi like it's your birthday" etc.

Quinto: Gonna pretend like you didn't write that and I didn't read it.

Dance Partner Wanted

Recently went to my mom's ballroom dance recital at her studio. The studio is made up of singles and divorcees, couples old and young, and people from every walk of life.

I've never seen a more loving and intimate moment between two souls as I did when I watched the couples skip, shuffle, hustle, and fox trot across the dance floor.


So yea, dance partner wanted. Someone to tango, waltz, and paso double through life with.

That other, other moment

That moment when you see them together. They really are the perfect couple: loving, devoted, and compatible. She's gorgeous, you know this, and he couldn't be happier with any other soul on this earth, but still you yearn for what could never really be yours. That moment when, instead of accepting an unavoidable truth, that you are not the object of his heart's desire- that you could never take the place of his buxom beauty, in this moment of insecurity you jealously critique her appearance to salvage some sense of worth by saying, "Oh my God, Becky, look at her butt; it's sooo BIG!! I mean look at it; it's just so round and...out there!"

(The unofficial reason behind the opening of Sir Mix-a-lot's "I like big butts")

Adele would understand

                                                            

                                    Rumor has it there is trouble in your paradise.








Just so you know, I wouldn't be picking up where she leaves off.











                                                                    I would be taking you in a better direction.

The undeniably fearful moment

When you wonder if you're biggest, irrational insecurity is an unfortunate, undeniable truth.



Do they know something I don't know? Am I only m e d i o c r e?

Upgrade.

In middle school, my schoolmates called me 'Pippi Long-stalking" because I always wore my hair in braids, wore glasses, and had a lanky frame.

The middle school students I tutor now call me 'Ms. Beyonce'.



Boom, puberty win.

Big Brown Eyes

I'm a volunteer tutor for a local middle school.  It's a rowdy bunch of 6th graders from the city.  They're good kids.


Today in the main room where study hall is held, two girls are chasing each other squealing and play-hitting each other.  I draw the line when one almost falls while the other climbs across the furniture. I sound like any mom or teacher or adult authority you can remember from your earlier days. (I feel less down and more uptight.)

I think to myself, "this is better than birth control." as I rub my temples.  The room quiets down when the school's director shows and apparently pulls the two girls aside and verbally reprimands them in the hall. I remain in the class room with my hands full.

Upon his return, the director kindly asks if I would go to the locker area for any stragglers as everyone, faculty and students, need to leave together.

I find one, she comes up to just below my shoulders. She's going to be tall in a few years, but for now she is still very much rockin' a baby face and a budding adolescent frame.
I look down to acknoweldge her, thinking she'll blow past me to join her friends in the other room, as I take a step in an opposing direction from where I thought she was going, only to have her change directing with me. I shift my weight back, thinking I am in her way, only to notice her take the same shift.

It dawns on me: she's following me. Her big brown eyes are fixed on my face.  She's ringing her hands out of nervousness. Nervous not for any one specific reason, I'm sure, just nervous because she's in that awkward stage where life presents you with challenges (and school work) and you have to muscle your way through from childhood to adulthood while everything changes around you (and no one can explain why besides saying "that's life.").  And those big brown eyes of hers are looking to me for a little guidance.

Because I have everything figured out. (And she's completely unaware of this blog.)

So with a smile (and a large sense of responsiblity), I ask her how's she's been since I haven't been able to speak to her since I started tutoring last month.  She responds, still looking at me like I have the secrets to success and I'm just about to instill this knowledge in her developing mind. I slow my pace and keep up with hers. We walk together as I listen to what the person behind those big brown eyes has to say.

Easy Calorie Burn

Without actually going to a gym or popping in a workout tape (NB: if you do not get the "video tape" reference, then you are WAY too young to read my blog. Please unsubscribe, delete your browser history, and I'll see you in 5 to 10 years. Thank you.), the most calorie burning activities in your day to day life are 1) housekeeping and 2) sex.











                  I am unfortunately too lazy for both.
                                                                           And so Ben&Jerry's it is...

Insanity

As it's defined by Albert Estein is "doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results."



So my romantic decisions define insanity.








                                                                                                                          Crap.

Friendly Competition

Friend 1: Let's face it, out of the three of us, she has the hottest body.

Me: Anybody mind if I do this?

Friend 2: Go for it.

Me: [Stands up and does victory dance.]

Franken-boyfriend

It would be amazing to find a composite of the men I've been romantically involved with over, we'll say, the last 15 years of dating.

A bit of that guys romanticism, his sense of humor and good looks, the other guy's height, his swag, his bank account, the other one's willingness to blow that account on me, etc.


*Sigh*

You don't text message breakup

Ok,

Sometimes you do.

                                                          Like when it's pretty obvious you were only a play thing.


Annnnd he didn't play well.



Then it's ok. Easier. Cost effect.  Why pretend like there was anything more there than feigned false
                                                                 hope?
(Yes, I'll admit, I was hoping you'd secretly be in love with me...I could use the ego boost. On the other hand, I hoped not because then that reconfirms my fear that all I can attract is pond scum.)


Exactly. So, once more, if it's just a booty call. And break up text is just fine.

                                                             


                                                                                                                   Ok. Good talk.

Social Cues

If I don't ask you how you are doing...


     It's not because I've lost my manners....




                                                 It's because I don't care to know.


Take the hint.

Courtship 101

Text message with a "some guy". Gave him the run around a few days, and then this conversation happened:

SG: Ha, yea, sounds like a full day. We should hang out soon though. Let me know when you free up.

Me: Sure, but let's make this simpler: do you mean "hang out" in public or "hang out" like in college? Because I am honestly not interested in the latter. Just to save you the trouble...

SG: I was going to suggest lunch...

Me: I can do lunch.

Go to move: Puns

At an oyster bar downtown with a nice young man.

Youngin': Do you like oysters?

Me: [Grimaces, pauses, and replies with a smile] Mmmmm, I could maybe mussel through a few.

Youngin': [Politely chuckles.]

Waiter: [Dies a little bit more inside.]

Mother knows best

Mom: What happened to that Man Piece you were seeing over the summer?

Me: He went crazy and cursed me out via text while I was at work.

Mom: [pauses briefly] You really need to find a new type.