OK Y’all,
So I’ve noticed a trend lately in the dating scene that is a little odd to me. You see, growing up, Big E was the youngest or one of the youngest in her group of friends. It was not uncommon for her to be ostracized for her nubile status either. Naturally as she grew older, she made other friends, but even they were older or around her same age—then a strange thing started happening. As Big E got older, the boys she met started getting younger. She was no longer the youngest bird getting her fly on at the club. She was starting to be the puma prowling the dance floor, fist pumping to MJ because she actually remembered when he was black, while all the young’uns stared at her. So what did she do? She embraced it and started giving these lesser aged fellas a second look. And that brings us to the present.
I don’t know what it is, but here lately I’ve gone out with at least two boys who were significantly younger than me. I’m not talking jail bait, because I’m not THAT old myself, but young enough to where if we were really old we might die at the same time. I met these boys through random encounters with friends, and it wasn’t encounters where you would typically find much younger people in attendance like, say, a Justin Bieber concert. So I went with it, and in my handful of dates with these fellas, I realized that there were advantages and disadvantages to training a pup as opposed to trying to teach an old dog new tricks. My take:
1. Younger guys may not have the “experience” you’re looking for. Especially if you are a gal like myself of seasoned tenure and this ain’t your first rodeo. Younger guys have sometimes not had the opportunity to really develop the skills necessary to make your time together worthwhile. This is mainly because their opportunities have generally come at frat parties when severely inebriated and/or with young women of the same inexperienced ilk who probably have only heard the term “g-spot” in a really bad R&B song rhymed with “bedrock” (don’t ask me how I even know that).
The upside of this lack of know-how? You can train them to do what YOU want them to do. So if you’ve got a few tried and true favorites in your pantheon of moves, you can share them and make sure they are perfected with frequent practice. However, this does require your willingness to train, and willingness to be an encouraging coach. If you don’t feel like putting the time in, I understand. But just think—those young men are going to get older, and they’re STILL not going to know what to do, and then they’ll end up dating me and making me really unhappy.
2. Younger guys may lack comprehensive knowledge of iconic events from the decades past, because they weren’t alive yet. This happens to me all the time even with guys who are the same age as me, because I’m basically an 80’s music idiot savant, but it’s especially evident in the Gen Y set. If you weren’t born by the time the first Back to the Future came out, then there’s going to be a weensy generational gap to bridge for yous and me. It’s hard for me to feel comfortable making reference to Hall and Oates when you think that I’m describing a way to transport grains. And quite frankly, there is no upside to this. I think everyone should have at least a working knowledge of decades prior to their existence no matter what decade that is. I’m a huge fan of Andy Gibb. Granted he was hosting Solid Gold by the time I ever laid eyes on him, but I believe he and Victoria Principal had what it took to make it. Damn that cocaine! He could have been your everything! He WANTED to be!
3. Younger guys may not be as pecuniarily flush as you would like them to be, i.e., they’re broke. That’s extremely common these days amongst any age of person, but it does seem to skew toward the less aged rather than the more aged. And if you are interested in having a date paid for, this may not be your best route of affection. I have worked very hard over the past 15 years, supported myself for the past 10, and I’d really like to not have to support someone else. Or pay for his books. I’m not saying that I don’t appreciate someone who is really trying and maybe just doesn’t have the cashflow they need right way. I’m just saying those guys should maybe get some money from dear old Dad before attempting to take me out to dinner.
4. Younger guys are not as interested in commitment. I know, I know….NO guy is interested in commitment. I get it. Hell, I have plenty of women friends who aren’t interested in commitment. My point is, younger guys tend to want to play the field a lot more. The world is their oyster, and we ladies are but pearls. Many, many pearls of all shapes and sizes that these boys want to make sure they shuck right out of our shells. And this is why if you’re looking to get serious, you may be looking at the wrong fisherman. Because if he’s not done oyster trolling, you’re going to get shucked over. The upside, though, is that if you are a lady who is not interested in commitment, or you’ve just come off of a bad breakup and need an ego boost, there’s nothing like some young meat to set you right. You’ll feel like the sophisticated older woman for the night, and he will revere you as the experienced hottie that showed him a thing or two. As long as he’s not the young man in #1 who isn’t quite up to par in the horizontal mambo.
Alright, that’s all I’ve got…let me know what you think!
Thursday, December 16, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
The Business of Minding Your Own Business
OK Y’all,
So it’s been a while since I’ve posted, and that’s mainly due to the fact that I ain’t got squat to write about. This is what is known in common parlance as a proverbial “dry spell” for the ol’ Big E, and I gotta say, it’s been alright so far except for the fact that I cannot for the life of me get my Mater Familias off my back about being a SINK (Single Income, No Kids). See, I used to be quite proud of my immediate family because they never hounded me for a son-in-law or grandkids. They never said things like “when are you going to give me some sweet grandbabies to play with?” so I never had to reply with things like, “after you die” or “why should I when the rest of my family is so busy procreating out of wedlock?” So it worked out pretty well for the most part and I went on living the single life, blogging, and generally enjoying myself. Then suddenly the idea of being a DINK or a DICK (Dual Income No Kids or Dual Income Couple-a Kids) became the unflinching, laser focus of what I was lacking in my life by dear old Madre. Why, you ask? Because the two of us are thinking about starting a business and me being single is being singled out as the ONE reason why it’s not practical. Forget the fact that we know nothing about being small business owners, or that my dad has to approve all long term capital outlay that involves family money, or any of that. It’s the fact that, “well, honey, I just worry about you being able to pay your bills…if you had a husband this wouldn’t be a problem at all….” Right. So what if I did have a husband? Let’s entertain some scenarios for a minute. Scenarios that are all too common these days.
1. What if he was a big fat piece of shit who sat on his ass all day sucking up government funds while feigning and illness that’s incurable or permanently debilitating and I STILL couldn’t support myself because of this dead beat parked up on my couch? What then??? Yeah. Exactly.
2. What if he’s a guy who seems fine on the outside, and me being too proud to say anything, is secretly a wife beater or strung out on prescription pills all day and I struggle to cover up for him day in and day out while he acts like Gary Busey after a hard night on the Vegas strip in board meetings and ends up unemployed and living on my dime?? Ok. Great.
3. What if he’s a complete slimeball who cheats all over the place and ends up getting some bimbo preggers while I’m at the office slaving away trying to earn a buck to get him something nice for Christmas, and he comes home and announces he’s moving to Boca with Big Tits Betty and I am left holding the cards, the mortgage, and the car payment?? Would you be happy then? Fine. I’ll get right on that.
Long and short of it is folks, I’m not getting married any time soon. I’d have to meet Mr. Right immediately after you read this post and proceed to fast track it to a picket fence, and even then it’d be at least 6 months. So, let’s focus on what we can do—save up some money, get a nice little equity loan, find a business partner—and most of all, lay off Big E and her singlehood. There’s nothing I can do about it, and really nothing I want to do about it at this point. And that’s all good with me.
So it’s been a while since I’ve posted, and that’s mainly due to the fact that I ain’t got squat to write about. This is what is known in common parlance as a proverbial “dry spell” for the ol’ Big E, and I gotta say, it’s been alright so far except for the fact that I cannot for the life of me get my Mater Familias off my back about being a SINK (Single Income, No Kids). See, I used to be quite proud of my immediate family because they never hounded me for a son-in-law or grandkids. They never said things like “when are you going to give me some sweet grandbabies to play with?” so I never had to reply with things like, “after you die” or “why should I when the rest of my family is so busy procreating out of wedlock?” So it worked out pretty well for the most part and I went on living the single life, blogging, and generally enjoying myself. Then suddenly the idea of being a DINK or a DICK (Dual Income No Kids or Dual Income Couple-a Kids) became the unflinching, laser focus of what I was lacking in my life by dear old Madre. Why, you ask? Because the two of us are thinking about starting a business and me being single is being singled out as the ONE reason why it’s not practical. Forget the fact that we know nothing about being small business owners, or that my dad has to approve all long term capital outlay that involves family money, or any of that. It’s the fact that, “well, honey, I just worry about you being able to pay your bills…if you had a husband this wouldn’t be a problem at all….” Right. So what if I did have a husband? Let’s entertain some scenarios for a minute. Scenarios that are all too common these days.
1. What if he was a big fat piece of shit who sat on his ass all day sucking up government funds while feigning and illness that’s incurable or permanently debilitating and I STILL couldn’t support myself because of this dead beat parked up on my couch? What then??? Yeah. Exactly.
2. What if he’s a guy who seems fine on the outside, and me being too proud to say anything, is secretly a wife beater or strung out on prescription pills all day and I struggle to cover up for him day in and day out while he acts like Gary Busey after a hard night on the Vegas strip in board meetings and ends up unemployed and living on my dime?? Ok. Great.
3. What if he’s a complete slimeball who cheats all over the place and ends up getting some bimbo preggers while I’m at the office slaving away trying to earn a buck to get him something nice for Christmas, and he comes home and announces he’s moving to Boca with Big Tits Betty and I am left holding the cards, the mortgage, and the car payment?? Would you be happy then? Fine. I’ll get right on that.
Long and short of it is folks, I’m not getting married any time soon. I’d have to meet Mr. Right immediately after you read this post and proceed to fast track it to a picket fence, and even then it’d be at least 6 months. So, let’s focus on what we can do—save up some money, get a nice little equity loan, find a business partner—and most of all, lay off Big E and her singlehood. There’s nothing I can do about it, and really nothing I want to do about it at this point. And that’s all good with me.
Friday, September 10, 2010
Paging Cupid...
OK Y'all,
So a friend of mine emailed me the other day with a proposal (and not one of the indecent ilk). He wanted to know if I would be interested in meeting a gentleman he works with. Of course I said yes, because everyone knows that you don't meet new people by sitting at home with your cats watching King of Queens re-runs at 6 and 6:30 on TBS--not that I would know anything about that AT ALL, but still. My friend gave me a basic description of said fella, and I inquired about a few other things, and this guy sounded like he might be a winner. I'll keep you posted on that. But what got me thinking was this idea of the "fix-up" and the process behind it. Allow me to pontificate for a moment.
The first thing that comes to mind when you think of someone is of critical importance, because that right there either puts them in the "Inbox" or the "Recycle Bin" of dateable prospects for your friends. It seems over the years I have earned the reputation, and deservedly so, of being a funny girl with a bad attitude and a penchant for the menfolk, gaudy jewelry, and glitter--a hooker with a heart of gold, if you will. And really, I'm good with that. It's a helluva lot better than being the one who has a giant mole on her face and got knocked up on purpose to try and trap her ex-boyfriend. Again, not that I know ANYBODY like that, just an example I'm throwing out there. So when my friends et al think of me, I am sure the image that comes to mind is of me at Studio 54 with some sort of glittery dress and even glittery makeup on, dancing with a swashbuckling younger gentleman as we laugh at my jokes and sip our martinis. In fact, I'm positive that's what they see now that I've written this. Go ahead, I'll give you a minute to marinate and let it really play out...
Ok, back to the blog in 3...2...1...
The point of this is, when these friends meet eligible bachelors in their every day dealings, their opinion of you has to be positive or they wouldn't bother trying to fix you up with said bachelor. Obviously if they are your friends they like you to a certain extent, but I believe it really says something extra about your character that they are willing to subject another stranger to you.
The other thing that strikes me about this situation is that your friends have to know what you are looking for in a potential partner before they set you up, and that can be a tricky thing sometimes. If you're really close friends, then they know you better than you know yourself, which, if you're anything like me, is a whole other blog to write about why they are still your friends. But if your friend is a new one, or one that you don't see as much of as you'd like, they may have to do some homework. What I like about my fix up is that my friend asked me if I had any interview questions before he set things into motion, and asked if I would like a group date or just a one on one. I appreciate this tactic and find it wise. You don't want to be on a solo blind date with a Marilyn Manson impersonator at the local rave when you are more of a football, beer and wings kind of lady. So if you're going to set up your friends, be sure to get the dealbreakers and provide support. They will thank you later, even if the date isn't a huge success. And you will thank yourself for being such a stand up matchmaker. It's common courtesy and that's something we are in short supply of these days, people!
So, what do you guys think of fix ups? Good, bad, ugly? Let me know. And wish me luck. I'm going to go find my best glittery eyeshadow.
So a friend of mine emailed me the other day with a proposal (and not one of the indecent ilk). He wanted to know if I would be interested in meeting a gentleman he works with. Of course I said yes, because everyone knows that you don't meet new people by sitting at home with your cats watching King of Queens re-runs at 6 and 6:30 on TBS--not that I would know anything about that AT ALL, but still. My friend gave me a basic description of said fella, and I inquired about a few other things, and this guy sounded like he might be a winner. I'll keep you posted on that. But what got me thinking was this idea of the "fix-up" and the process behind it. Allow me to pontificate for a moment.
The first thing that comes to mind when you think of someone is of critical importance, because that right there either puts them in the "Inbox" or the "Recycle Bin" of dateable prospects for your friends. It seems over the years I have earned the reputation, and deservedly so, of being a funny girl with a bad attitude and a penchant for the menfolk, gaudy jewelry, and glitter--a hooker with a heart of gold, if you will. And really, I'm good with that. It's a helluva lot better than being the one who has a giant mole on her face and got knocked up on purpose to try and trap her ex-boyfriend. Again, not that I know ANYBODY like that, just an example I'm throwing out there. So when my friends et al think of me, I am sure the image that comes to mind is of me at Studio 54 with some sort of glittery dress and even glittery makeup on, dancing with a swashbuckling younger gentleman as we laugh at my jokes and sip our martinis. In fact, I'm positive that's what they see now that I've written this. Go ahead, I'll give you a minute to marinate and let it really play out...
Ok, back to the blog in 3...2...1...
The point of this is, when these friends meet eligible bachelors in their every day dealings, their opinion of you has to be positive or they wouldn't bother trying to fix you up with said bachelor. Obviously if they are your friends they like you to a certain extent, but I believe it really says something extra about your character that they are willing to subject another stranger to you.
The other thing that strikes me about this situation is that your friends have to know what you are looking for in a potential partner before they set you up, and that can be a tricky thing sometimes. If you're really close friends, then they know you better than you know yourself, which, if you're anything like me, is a whole other blog to write about why they are still your friends. But if your friend is a new one, or one that you don't see as much of as you'd like, they may have to do some homework. What I like about my fix up is that my friend asked me if I had any interview questions before he set things into motion, and asked if I would like a group date or just a one on one. I appreciate this tactic and find it wise. You don't want to be on a solo blind date with a Marilyn Manson impersonator at the local rave when you are more of a football, beer and wings kind of lady. So if you're going to set up your friends, be sure to get the dealbreakers and provide support. They will thank you later, even if the date isn't a huge success. And you will thank yourself for being such a stand up matchmaker. It's common courtesy and that's something we are in short supply of these days, people!
So, what do you guys think of fix ups? Good, bad, ugly? Let me know. And wish me luck. I'm going to go find my best glittery eyeshadow.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Propositioning For Dummies
OK Y’all,
So I was out on Facebook getting my social network on when I came across an article a friend of mine posted from Yahoo. It was about a woman in Ohio who supposedly discovered her husband had married another woman in Florida and they had posted all the pictures up on the ol’ FB for the world to see. Obviously feeling a little disappointed, she took her side of the story to the national news media (because isn’t that what we all want to do when we’re hurt and angry?). Of course Hubs denied that they were ever technically and legally married, and said she knew about the other woman and the marriage. To which I reply, “DUDE. Who gives a shit if you’re ‘technically’ married or not, you went through with a huge to do with pictures and video to prove that you did in fact marry ceremonially at least, proceeded to have 2 kids, and then went and got yourself another ‘wife.’ The technicality of your first marriage should be the least of your karmic worries!” And that got me thinking even more about some recent events (over and above what happened to inspire my last post) that have transpired in my own life that have left me at a serious loss for not only words, but my lunch as well. These things are truly vomit inducing and make one doubt the future of the human race.
First off, I incurred a new dating prospect. A guy I had met briefly a while back who got in touch with me (again with that marvel of modern technology, Facebook) and asked for my number. Great! I thought. Perhaps this will be a fun adventure. Sure enough, this fella called me and we talked on the phone. We discussed fun stuff like work and going out. We joked around about drinking beer and sitting in a kiddie pool on my deck. He mentioned taking me on a date. Even better! I thought. I went to sleep feeling pretty positive. I woke up to a text request from ol’ boy asking for a naked picture to get his day started off right. Yes…you need to go back and read that again. The messages just got worse from there. One even mentioned sending me a picture of a very sensitive area of my anatomy in exchange for the servicing of said area. Now, gentle reader, I will tell you I am a very open person who is not easily offended and is usually the one doing the offending if the truth be told. But I find it not only tacky and tasteless but downright rude to say such things to a gal that you don’t even know and haven’t even been out with yet—in other words, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Obviously my sense of humor was sorely misconstrued the night before, or this guy is one Penthouse Letter short of a compendium. So what did I do? I advised this young man to calm down and see if he even liked me first before professing his undying devotion to Mrs. Peabody and the Lotus of Love. Needless to say I won’t be answering his calls anymore.
Second on my list was an email exchange with a co-worker. Let me preface by saying that in all honesty, I didn’t think this young man really liked me that much. He hardly talks to me at work functions, and though we have joked around on occasion, he really does not seem to want to be part of my extended network. I saw him the day before the email exchange at a work training thing, and we shared a joke and that was it. No other conversation. I had congratulated him a while ago on his recent fatherhood, but before the work training, I had not spoken to him in weeks upon weeks. This was fine by me, as he lives in another state, is married, and did I mention JUST HAD A BABY. So when I get an email that starts out innocuous enough—it was about the joke we had been chuckling over—I of course replied and started what I thought was a discussion about an upcoming work trip. Things quickly turned to a not so platonic tack and requests for pointers and personal instruction on “indoor sports” became the topic. Again, I am not the one to talk to about appropriate conversations most of the time, but friends, this was uncalled for. I tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground and fortunately signed off for the day before I ended up in a loss of consortium lawsuit.
Last but not least was another email exchange with an old friend. This fella was what we would call in common parlance a “hook up buddy” who in recent months had acquired himself a lady friend, and by lady friend I mean a serious enough one to have changed the—yep, you guessed it—Facebook status to “in a relationship with.” I simply dropped him a note just to say hello since we don’t usually talk when either one of us is parked up with someone else. I promptly receive an email asking how I am as well, and could I give him my phone number again since he’s lost his contacts recently? I obliged, as it seemed to be a simple enough request, and he then proceeded to promise to call in the wee hours very soon to procure some sweet sweet lovin’. I was a bit taken aback, as I thought he was still hugged up with his bird, what with it being on his page and she also still having a picture of the two of them as her default profile picture. I asked what had happened to the “in a relationship” status, to which he replied “yeah, yeah, yeah.” I’m not sure if you know what that means, reader, but I do—that means he’s trying to get his creep on and hoping I’ll drop trou with no questions asked. Unfortunately for him, I was born at night, but not last night. He can call me all he wants, and text me, and whatever else, but these gams are glued shut until further notice.
In all of this, I felt two things—disgust and pity. Disgust at what these guys are (failing at) trying to do, and pity for the women involved with them. I understand that everyone has extenuating circumstances from time to time, but there’s no gray area here. It’s cut and dried and out there on Facebook for Pete’s sake. I was appalled at what lengths these men would go to just for the possibility of a temporary fix and how ridiculously stupid they were acting to get it. I know I’m a pretty lady with a lot to offer, but I don’t offer it to just everyone, and it offended me that these men would even attempt to obtain what I’ve got without regard for anyone else. Part of me says I ought to know by now, but part of me still wants to believe that good guys exist. So please, for the sake of everyone you know, be a decent person. And for the sake of me, don’t do that shit, because I will rake you over the coals in a public blog without mercy.
So I was out on Facebook getting my social network on when I came across an article a friend of mine posted from Yahoo. It was about a woman in Ohio who supposedly discovered her husband had married another woman in Florida and they had posted all the pictures up on the ol’ FB for the world to see. Obviously feeling a little disappointed, she took her side of the story to the national news media (because isn’t that what we all want to do when we’re hurt and angry?). Of course Hubs denied that they were ever technically and legally married, and said she knew about the other woman and the marriage. To which I reply, “DUDE. Who gives a shit if you’re ‘technically’ married or not, you went through with a huge to do with pictures and video to prove that you did in fact marry ceremonially at least, proceeded to have 2 kids, and then went and got yourself another ‘wife.’ The technicality of your first marriage should be the least of your karmic worries!” And that got me thinking even more about some recent events (over and above what happened to inspire my last post) that have transpired in my own life that have left me at a serious loss for not only words, but my lunch as well. These things are truly vomit inducing and make one doubt the future of the human race.
First off, I incurred a new dating prospect. A guy I had met briefly a while back who got in touch with me (again with that marvel of modern technology, Facebook) and asked for my number. Great! I thought. Perhaps this will be a fun adventure. Sure enough, this fella called me and we talked on the phone. We discussed fun stuff like work and going out. We joked around about drinking beer and sitting in a kiddie pool on my deck. He mentioned taking me on a date. Even better! I thought. I went to sleep feeling pretty positive. I woke up to a text request from ol’ boy asking for a naked picture to get his day started off right. Yes…you need to go back and read that again. The messages just got worse from there. One even mentioned sending me a picture of a very sensitive area of my anatomy in exchange for the servicing of said area. Now, gentle reader, I will tell you I am a very open person who is not easily offended and is usually the one doing the offending if the truth be told. But I find it not only tacky and tasteless but downright rude to say such things to a gal that you don’t even know and haven’t even been out with yet—in other words, ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Obviously my sense of humor was sorely misconstrued the night before, or this guy is one Penthouse Letter short of a compendium. So what did I do? I advised this young man to calm down and see if he even liked me first before professing his undying devotion to Mrs. Peabody and the Lotus of Love. Needless to say I won’t be answering his calls anymore.
Second on my list was an email exchange with a co-worker. Let me preface by saying that in all honesty, I didn’t think this young man really liked me that much. He hardly talks to me at work functions, and though we have joked around on occasion, he really does not seem to want to be part of my extended network. I saw him the day before the email exchange at a work training thing, and we shared a joke and that was it. No other conversation. I had congratulated him a while ago on his recent fatherhood, but before the work training, I had not spoken to him in weeks upon weeks. This was fine by me, as he lives in another state, is married, and did I mention JUST HAD A BABY. So when I get an email that starts out innocuous enough—it was about the joke we had been chuckling over—I of course replied and started what I thought was a discussion about an upcoming work trip. Things quickly turned to a not so platonic tack and requests for pointers and personal instruction on “indoor sports” became the topic. Again, I am not the one to talk to about appropriate conversations most of the time, but friends, this was uncalled for. I tried to steer the conversation back to safer ground and fortunately signed off for the day before I ended up in a loss of consortium lawsuit.
Last but not least was another email exchange with an old friend. This fella was what we would call in common parlance a “hook up buddy” who in recent months had acquired himself a lady friend, and by lady friend I mean a serious enough one to have changed the—yep, you guessed it—Facebook status to “in a relationship with.” I simply dropped him a note just to say hello since we don’t usually talk when either one of us is parked up with someone else. I promptly receive an email asking how I am as well, and could I give him my phone number again since he’s lost his contacts recently? I obliged, as it seemed to be a simple enough request, and he then proceeded to promise to call in the wee hours very soon to procure some sweet sweet lovin’. I was a bit taken aback, as I thought he was still hugged up with his bird, what with it being on his page and she also still having a picture of the two of them as her default profile picture. I asked what had happened to the “in a relationship” status, to which he replied “yeah, yeah, yeah.” I’m not sure if you know what that means, reader, but I do—that means he’s trying to get his creep on and hoping I’ll drop trou with no questions asked. Unfortunately for him, I was born at night, but not last night. He can call me all he wants, and text me, and whatever else, but these gams are glued shut until further notice.
In all of this, I felt two things—disgust and pity. Disgust at what these guys are (failing at) trying to do, and pity for the women involved with them. I understand that everyone has extenuating circumstances from time to time, but there’s no gray area here. It’s cut and dried and out there on Facebook for Pete’s sake. I was appalled at what lengths these men would go to just for the possibility of a temporary fix and how ridiculously stupid they were acting to get it. I know I’m a pretty lady with a lot to offer, but I don’t offer it to just everyone, and it offended me that these men would even attempt to obtain what I’ve got without regard for anyone else. Part of me says I ought to know by now, but part of me still wants to believe that good guys exist. So please, for the sake of everyone you know, be a decent person. And for the sake of me, don’t do that shit, because I will rake you over the coals in a public blog without mercy.
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Hallmark? We Don't Need No Stinking Hallmark!
OK Y'all,
So the Big E has had a tough time recently, boy trouble as it were, and she's been pretty upset about it. And like all red-blooded American females with a creative streak, she decided to channel her pain and anguish into a more productive outlet instead of sitting around stewing over revenge tactics (though if you're ever interested, let me know, I've got a ton of 'em). So what did she do? She came up with her own little set of greeting cards that would express her sentiments in a fun and exciting way! Doubtful that these will ever make it to the shelves, but honestly, it's Hallmark's loss. Because creativity is something that is not in short supply for Big E, and she is more than capable of printing these little ditties herself. Holla if you see one you need! Here goes:
1. OUTSIDE: Congratulations!!!
INSIDE: You tossed your yogurt in the wrong girl! Enjoy Fatherhood!
2. OUTSIDE: Dinner for Two: $60
Drinks after dinner: $20
Box of condoms: $7
INSIDE: Forgetting to use them : PRICELESS.
3. OUTSIDE: Pearls are white,
Like the load that you blew,
INSIDE: Here's hoping the baby
Actually looks like you! Congratulations!
4. OUTSIDE: You've really started something in my heart!
INSIDE: too bad you already started something in another woman's womb! Congratulations!
5. OUTSIDE: Baby, you touch my heart in so many ways--
INSIDE: Unfortunately you only had to touch her cervix once. Have a happy 9 months!
6. OUTSIDE: Darling, you gave me butterflies in my stomach--
INSIDE: You'll also be giving her child support! Have a great life!
7. OUTSIDE: Honey, you give me hope--
INSIDE: That there will be one more Assistant Manager of the Month at Waffle House in 18 years! Congratulations!
8. OUTSIDE: You make my heart skip a beat!
INSIDE: Too bad you decided to skip birth control when you cheated on me! Best wishes!
9. OUTSIDE: Sweetheart, I'm really falling for you--
INSIDE: It's too bad you fell into her vagina first! Hugs and kisses!
10: OUTSIDE: Recipe for a Family:
INSIDE: Start with 12 beers
1 narcissistic asshole
1 Unassuming Ditz
2 tsp. Baby Batter
Combine with a complete lack of self and birth control and a dash of gut wrenching guilt and bake at 98.6 degrees for 9 months. Voila! Instant family!
11. OUTSIDE: We're really going to miss you
INSIDE: By we, I mean me and your dignity. Happy Trails!
12. OUTSIDE: If I could change one thing...
INSIDE: I would've had you pull out of her as fast as you pulled out of our relationship. Mazeltov!
Alright! that's all I've got! Share your ideas and comments!
So the Big E has had a tough time recently, boy trouble as it were, and she's been pretty upset about it. And like all red-blooded American females with a creative streak, she decided to channel her pain and anguish into a more productive outlet instead of sitting around stewing over revenge tactics (though if you're ever interested, let me know, I've got a ton of 'em). So what did she do? She came up with her own little set of greeting cards that would express her sentiments in a fun and exciting way! Doubtful that these will ever make it to the shelves, but honestly, it's Hallmark's loss. Because creativity is something that is not in short supply for Big E, and she is more than capable of printing these little ditties herself. Holla if you see one you need! Here goes:
1. OUTSIDE: Congratulations!!!
INSIDE: You tossed your yogurt in the wrong girl! Enjoy Fatherhood!
2. OUTSIDE: Dinner for Two: $60
Drinks after dinner: $20
Box of condoms: $7
INSIDE: Forgetting to use them : PRICELESS.
3. OUTSIDE: Pearls are white,
Like the load that you blew,
INSIDE: Here's hoping the baby
Actually looks like you! Congratulations!
4. OUTSIDE: You've really started something in my heart!
INSIDE: too bad you already started something in another woman's womb! Congratulations!
5. OUTSIDE: Baby, you touch my heart in so many ways--
INSIDE: Unfortunately you only had to touch her cervix once. Have a happy 9 months!
6. OUTSIDE: Darling, you gave me butterflies in my stomach--
INSIDE: You'll also be giving her child support! Have a great life!
7. OUTSIDE: Honey, you give me hope--
INSIDE: That there will be one more Assistant Manager of the Month at Waffle House in 18 years! Congratulations!
8. OUTSIDE: You make my heart skip a beat!
INSIDE: Too bad you decided to skip birth control when you cheated on me! Best wishes!
9. OUTSIDE: Sweetheart, I'm really falling for you--
INSIDE: It's too bad you fell into her vagina first! Hugs and kisses!
10: OUTSIDE: Recipe for a Family:
INSIDE: Start with 12 beers
1 narcissistic asshole
1 Unassuming Ditz
2 tsp. Baby Batter
Combine with a complete lack of self and birth control and a dash of gut wrenching guilt and bake at 98.6 degrees for 9 months. Voila! Instant family!
11. OUTSIDE: We're really going to miss you
INSIDE: By we, I mean me and your dignity. Happy Trails!
12. OUTSIDE: If I could change one thing...
INSIDE: I would've had you pull out of her as fast as you pulled out of our relationship. Mazeltov!
Alright! that's all I've got! Share your ideas and comments!
Thursday, July 15, 2010
Six Degrees of Separation
OK Y’all,
So I was laying on my couch drinking an entire bottle of pinot grigio and incoherently babbling to my cat in an attempt to figure out what went wrong in my last dating foray when I had an idea. No, it wasn’t that I shouldn’t have had the whole bottle of wine, or even that I shouldn’t be talking to a cat, but this idea of Degrees of Dating. It’s not degrees as in education, but more degrees in terms of measurement—temperature and distance. Just to make it fun, I’ve come up with my own Six Degrees of Dating (not to be confused with Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, though I’m sure if I trace it back far enough I’ve probably dated him by association at some point).
1. 0 degrees (or 32 degrees if you are keeping it strictly Fahrenheit)--this is sort of a double duty degree—it could represent the freezing point of a relationship, where one or both of you decides to throw in the towel, hang it up, dump or be dumped, etc. It could also represent the lack of interest when one party is interested in the other but the feeling is not mutual. You decide. Either way, baby, it’s cold outside.
2. 65 degrees—I’m a fan of this degree for many reasons. I see it as the point to where you’re not really sure about the new person you’re dating and you’re trying to keep it a little cooler than usual before you haul off and get into the deep end. It could be that he/she has a reputation about town and you’re still doing your research, or it could be that they have a few things you need to inquire about before you decide to give it your all, like habits and what have you. 65 is the perfect temp to idle for a while and check out your situation, and it’s also a smart strategy so you don’t go from 0 to boiling too fast and end up blowing a gasket. You could also consider this the “time out” degree, as in, cool off, take a step back, and re-evaluate before you do or say something stupid.
3. 75 degrees—Most people are comfortable being outside when it is 75 degrees relative to the humidity, and this is the point in the relationship where you start to get comfortable with each other. You’re going out more, learning all the things you have in common, and meeting each other’s friends. You’ve decided that at 65 everything checked out so you want to turn up the heat a little. Just make sure you don’t stay at 75 forever in the beginning stages of a relationship, because that spells doom. You get too comfortable and you never raise your temperature, you’re going to be sitting around 5 years from now wondering why he/she hasn’t proposed. It’s like the 75% rule—you’re ¾ of the way there, but where’s the other 25%? Is it ever going to make a complete pie chart? Of course after your relationship is on solid, committed ground, 75 is pretty good. You don’t want to be too comfortable here either, so make sure you do something to bring it up to boiling every now and again, but you can spend a lot of time at 75 and be perfectly happy in the long run. You like 75% of what this person’s about, and the other 25% is tolerable.
4. 100 degrees (or 212 for you Fahrenheit-loving Red White and Blue Bleeding Americans)—This is the boiling point—the point where the stars have aligned, all is right with the world, the birds are singing, and the sun is shining. Your amour is perfect in every way, right down to the adorable way he/she drools all over your side of the pillow. You want to share the drool eternally! You want to be there to share every experience, tackle every obstacle, and smell every fart! Good for you! The only problem is, when you hit boiling, you can’t stay there forever. You can only boil for so long before you boil over or you run out of steam. So be careful. Cool it back down to 65 and take stock. It’s hard to do, but it’s going to save you some hassle and possibly keep you from spending the next third of your life going from 0 to boiling and back again. That’s hard on a radiator and it’s hard on a heart.
5. 180 degrees—Ah, the old 180. It’s a classic term used for a complete change in tack, as in “I thought we were getting along great, then he does a complete 180 and dumps me! As if!” Sometimes a 180 is a good thing, if someone’s really turned their life around, but a lot of times the 180 is used in a derogatory sense. I don’t have any words to explain how shitty a 180 can make you feel until you’ve lived it. Anybody is capable of it and you never know when it’s going to strike. But when it does, I bet I know the first words out of your mouth.
6. 360 degrees—I like to use this degree to describe two phenomena—When you are stuck in a vicious cycle of breaking up and making up, thus bringing you full circle in your relationship over and over and never getting out; and when you have come full circle and are ready to stop doing what you’re doing because you see what’s coming and it’s getting you nowhere fast. I like it better in the latter sense, but not everyone has the sense to pull a 360 that way. It’s unfortunate because it usually ends up leading to another 360 of the former sense and then they can’t see the forest for the trees.
Alright, that’s all I’ve got! Let me know what you think!
So I was laying on my couch drinking an entire bottle of pinot grigio and incoherently babbling to my cat in an attempt to figure out what went wrong in my last dating foray when I had an idea. No, it wasn’t that I shouldn’t have had the whole bottle of wine, or even that I shouldn’t be talking to a cat, but this idea of Degrees of Dating. It’s not degrees as in education, but more degrees in terms of measurement—temperature and distance. Just to make it fun, I’ve come up with my own Six Degrees of Dating (not to be confused with Six Degrees of Kevin Bacon, though I’m sure if I trace it back far enough I’ve probably dated him by association at some point).
1. 0 degrees (or 32 degrees if you are keeping it strictly Fahrenheit)--this is sort of a double duty degree—it could represent the freezing point of a relationship, where one or both of you decides to throw in the towel, hang it up, dump or be dumped, etc. It could also represent the lack of interest when one party is interested in the other but the feeling is not mutual. You decide. Either way, baby, it’s cold outside.
2. 65 degrees—I’m a fan of this degree for many reasons. I see it as the point to where you’re not really sure about the new person you’re dating and you’re trying to keep it a little cooler than usual before you haul off and get into the deep end. It could be that he/she has a reputation about town and you’re still doing your research, or it could be that they have a few things you need to inquire about before you decide to give it your all, like habits and what have you. 65 is the perfect temp to idle for a while and check out your situation, and it’s also a smart strategy so you don’t go from 0 to boiling too fast and end up blowing a gasket. You could also consider this the “time out” degree, as in, cool off, take a step back, and re-evaluate before you do or say something stupid.
3. 75 degrees—Most people are comfortable being outside when it is 75 degrees relative to the humidity, and this is the point in the relationship where you start to get comfortable with each other. You’re going out more, learning all the things you have in common, and meeting each other’s friends. You’ve decided that at 65 everything checked out so you want to turn up the heat a little. Just make sure you don’t stay at 75 forever in the beginning stages of a relationship, because that spells doom. You get too comfortable and you never raise your temperature, you’re going to be sitting around 5 years from now wondering why he/she hasn’t proposed. It’s like the 75% rule—you’re ¾ of the way there, but where’s the other 25%? Is it ever going to make a complete pie chart? Of course after your relationship is on solid, committed ground, 75 is pretty good. You don’t want to be too comfortable here either, so make sure you do something to bring it up to boiling every now and again, but you can spend a lot of time at 75 and be perfectly happy in the long run. You like 75% of what this person’s about, and the other 25% is tolerable.
4. 100 degrees (or 212 for you Fahrenheit-loving Red White and Blue Bleeding Americans)—This is the boiling point—the point where the stars have aligned, all is right with the world, the birds are singing, and the sun is shining. Your amour is perfect in every way, right down to the adorable way he/she drools all over your side of the pillow. You want to share the drool eternally! You want to be there to share every experience, tackle every obstacle, and smell every fart! Good for you! The only problem is, when you hit boiling, you can’t stay there forever. You can only boil for so long before you boil over or you run out of steam. So be careful. Cool it back down to 65 and take stock. It’s hard to do, but it’s going to save you some hassle and possibly keep you from spending the next third of your life going from 0 to boiling and back again. That’s hard on a radiator and it’s hard on a heart.
5. 180 degrees—Ah, the old 180. It’s a classic term used for a complete change in tack, as in “I thought we were getting along great, then he does a complete 180 and dumps me! As if!” Sometimes a 180 is a good thing, if someone’s really turned their life around, but a lot of times the 180 is used in a derogatory sense. I don’t have any words to explain how shitty a 180 can make you feel until you’ve lived it. Anybody is capable of it and you never know when it’s going to strike. But when it does, I bet I know the first words out of your mouth.
6. 360 degrees—I like to use this degree to describe two phenomena—When you are stuck in a vicious cycle of breaking up and making up, thus bringing you full circle in your relationship over and over and never getting out; and when you have come full circle and are ready to stop doing what you’re doing because you see what’s coming and it’s getting you nowhere fast. I like it better in the latter sense, but not everyone has the sense to pull a 360 that way. It’s unfortunate because it usually ends up leading to another 360 of the former sense and then they can’t see the forest for the trees.
Alright, that’s all I’ve got! Let me know what you think!
Tuesday, June 22, 2010
Wookin' Po Nub...
OK Y’all,
So I was in a movie kind of mood the other night, and I couldn’t find anything on the cable movie channels, so I turned to my DVD collection. I picked a classic—Urban Cowboy. For those of you not familiar with this lil’ gem, it’s about a fella named Bud who moves from a small town in Texas to a medium small town in Texas and meets a gal named Sissy at Gilley’s, the local watering hole. They get married, move into a trailer, get in a fight over mechanical bullriding, cheat, and get back together after foiling a robbery, all in the span of about 6 weeks. It’s a fun movie to watch if you are in the mood for some redneck intrigue, and it certainly makes you wonder whatever happened to Mickey Gilley. As I was watching it, I got to thinking about the kind of people Bud and Sissy were—simple, blue collar, poorly educated, and viscerally driven. They have no concept of what life is like outside of their tiny little hamlet; they essentially don’t know any better and don’t want to. And you know what? On a very basic level, their lives indicate that ignorance is bliss. If you don’t know that there’s anything better, if you believe what people say at face value and allow your thoughts and feelings to stay simple and naïve, you can be happy. And I think that’s where I’ve got a problem: I’m too smart for my own good, or at least I’ve learned the hard way too much for my own good. It makes me sad in a way, because I can’t ever take anyone at their word—especially when it comes to dating, and that’s exactly where trust matters the most. When I was younger and just starting out on my dating journey, I believed my boyfriend/date/whatever when he said he hadn’t called because he was out late with friends/stuck at work/whatever. He loved me—how could I not believe him, and how could he not be honest with me at all times? It seemed easy enough. I was always honest with him. When you’re in love, you’re always above board! Boy, did reality come crashing down around me and quick. Blindsided doesn’t even begin to cover it. And that was just the beginning of my difficult and painful education about the inner workings of the human heart. Since then, it seems like I’ve seen it or heard it all, and quite frankly, it’s made me a wary and suspicious person. It’s made me into someone who can’t take a compliment without wondering what the complimentor is hiding or trying to butter me up for. It’s caused me to suspect less than honorable intentions and subterfuge in even the most innocuous of missed connections. And unfortunately, it’s proven me to be right in a HUGE majority of cases. It's disappointing and more than a little upsetting that I am too self-aware to be happy. I would love to be that small town girl with wide eyed optimism who doesn’t know any better and has the myopic vision of a simple heart. It makes me wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then. But I do, and the force is strong with this one. I am working on how to deal with it--until then, I guess I can blog about it.
So I was in a movie kind of mood the other night, and I couldn’t find anything on the cable movie channels, so I turned to my DVD collection. I picked a classic—Urban Cowboy. For those of you not familiar with this lil’ gem, it’s about a fella named Bud who moves from a small town in Texas to a medium small town in Texas and meets a gal named Sissy at Gilley’s, the local watering hole. They get married, move into a trailer, get in a fight over mechanical bullriding, cheat, and get back together after foiling a robbery, all in the span of about 6 weeks. It’s a fun movie to watch if you are in the mood for some redneck intrigue, and it certainly makes you wonder whatever happened to Mickey Gilley. As I was watching it, I got to thinking about the kind of people Bud and Sissy were—simple, blue collar, poorly educated, and viscerally driven. They have no concept of what life is like outside of their tiny little hamlet; they essentially don’t know any better and don’t want to. And you know what? On a very basic level, their lives indicate that ignorance is bliss. If you don’t know that there’s anything better, if you believe what people say at face value and allow your thoughts and feelings to stay simple and naïve, you can be happy. And I think that’s where I’ve got a problem: I’m too smart for my own good, or at least I’ve learned the hard way too much for my own good. It makes me sad in a way, because I can’t ever take anyone at their word—especially when it comes to dating, and that’s exactly where trust matters the most. When I was younger and just starting out on my dating journey, I believed my boyfriend/date/whatever when he said he hadn’t called because he was out late with friends/stuck at work/whatever. He loved me—how could I not believe him, and how could he not be honest with me at all times? It seemed easy enough. I was always honest with him. When you’re in love, you’re always above board! Boy, did reality come crashing down around me and quick. Blindsided doesn’t even begin to cover it. And that was just the beginning of my difficult and painful education about the inner workings of the human heart. Since then, it seems like I’ve seen it or heard it all, and quite frankly, it’s made me a wary and suspicious person. It’s made me into someone who can’t take a compliment without wondering what the complimentor is hiding or trying to butter me up for. It’s caused me to suspect less than honorable intentions and subterfuge in even the most innocuous of missed connections. And unfortunately, it’s proven me to be right in a HUGE majority of cases. It's disappointing and more than a little upsetting that I am too self-aware to be happy. I would love to be that small town girl with wide eyed optimism who doesn’t know any better and has the myopic vision of a simple heart. It makes me wish I didn’t know now what I didn’t know then. But I do, and the force is strong with this one. I am working on how to deal with it--until then, I guess I can blog about it.
Wednesday, May 19, 2010
You Gotta Start 'Em Early
OK Y’all,
So there’s this problem I used to have, and I thought I had conquered, or at least calmed it down enough not to drive myself crazy. But it seems that though I have tried, it still comes back to haunt me from time to time despite the fact that I am all too aware that it’s happening. It’s the problem of “expectations,” or more specifically, “high expectations,” aka “getting your hopes up.” I don’t know why I have them anymore, at least not for other people, because years and years and YEARS of experience have taught me that the minute you put even the most infinitesimal expectations on someone, they inevitably let you down. And it’s only getting worse out there, folks. Not only have expectations become the stuff of myth when dealing with dating partners, but it’s seeping into our collective consciousness too. How many times do you say to yourself on a daily basis, “man, does anybody even CARE anymore?” when dealing with the customer service industries? I know! Me, too.
I was pondering this latest bout of Am-I-Really-Crazy-Or-Do-People-Just-SUCK-itude when it occurred to me that my placement of expectations and the lessons learned by subsequent crushing of them happened quite early on in my life. Like kindergarten early. See, I used to be kind of a flirt at age 5. Seriously—I got in trouble more than once for kissing boys on the playground. So it was only natural that I would expect the boys to like me back. When they didn’t, it cut me, it cut me real deep. Two episodes stand out to me more than the others—picture it, Bristol, 1984. A cute-as-a-button Big E dressed in her tailor made finery (complete with tag reading “Made With Love By Mommy” sewn into the back) was out on the playground when she spies a kid named Andy. He’s got something in his chubby hand that he says is a present, and of course Big E thinks it’s for her. He walks toward her, coming closer, closer…and walks right past, to another girl named Amanda. He gives Amanda a ruby ring he had stolen from his mamaw’s jewelry box (hey, this is Bristol we’re talkin’ about here) and Amanda fawns over it with sickening glee. Big E stomps her tiny oxford clad feet and pouts the rest of the day. The next day on the school bus, Big E feels a tap on her shoulder. It’s Jimmy Yarber, her fellow kindergarten classmate. He says to her that he’s brought her something, and produces a gold metal ring with a red plastic jewel perched atop it. He says that he wanted Big E to have her own ruby ring so he got one for her from the chicken egg machine at the grocery store. He spent a whole quarter on it! Big E proudly dons the ring and walks into Mrs. Tauscher’s class feeling like the best girl in the world.
Cut to first grade—Big E is still not only the cutest girl in her class, but naturally the smartest. She gets her work done, always has examples ready to demonstrate for her “letter of the day” presentations, and knows how to bat her eyelashes for an extra Oreo at snack time. Since she’s a good girl, she always gets to go to recess, but not all of the children are as good as her. Especially not a little boy named Wes Combs. Wes is incorrigible and seems to have a hard time staying in his seat, thus causing him to miss recess frequently and have to sit in the classroom and write sentences. One lovely day, Big E comes in during recess to get a kickball or some sort of game equipment from the room. There sits Wes in all his badassery, writing sentences and generally making a mockery of his education. The teacher assigned to watch him has her head down, reading a book. So what does Wes do before Big E goes back outside? He says, “hey, look at this!” and proceeds to show Big E his tiny, 6 year old wiener. Yep, that’s right—indecent exposure. Big E squeals and runs from the room, still scarred by the experience 25 years later. To this day I don’t know his motivation, but I’m 99% positive he probably saw his dad or his older brother do it and thought it was a good idea.
So what lessons did I learn from these early life experiences?
Lesson #1—there are still nice guys out there.
Lesson #2—those guys usually have don’t stay in from recess because they were bad.
Really though, what it taught me is that I can’t expect every guy to like me, and if I do, that’s my fault. Some guys just aren’t that into you, or they have too many hang ups, or all they want to do is show you their dong. And the minute that you get your hopes up that he’ll call, or take you on another date, or generally act like someone you’d want to be seen with in public is the minute that you can throw all that out the window. People are people, and they screw up. If you have your sights set too high, all you’re going to do is drown when it rains. You have to have a healthy dose of realism when it comes to dating. Trying not to expect too much while still keeping your standards where you want them to be is a tough thing, but it’s not impossible. Trust me, I learned the hard way.
So there’s this problem I used to have, and I thought I had conquered, or at least calmed it down enough not to drive myself crazy. But it seems that though I have tried, it still comes back to haunt me from time to time despite the fact that I am all too aware that it’s happening. It’s the problem of “expectations,” or more specifically, “high expectations,” aka “getting your hopes up.” I don’t know why I have them anymore, at least not for other people, because years and years and YEARS of experience have taught me that the minute you put even the most infinitesimal expectations on someone, they inevitably let you down. And it’s only getting worse out there, folks. Not only have expectations become the stuff of myth when dealing with dating partners, but it’s seeping into our collective consciousness too. How many times do you say to yourself on a daily basis, “man, does anybody even CARE anymore?” when dealing with the customer service industries? I know! Me, too.
I was pondering this latest bout of Am-I-Really-Crazy-Or-Do-People-Just-SUCK-itude when it occurred to me that my placement of expectations and the lessons learned by subsequent crushing of them happened quite early on in my life. Like kindergarten early. See, I used to be kind of a flirt at age 5. Seriously—I got in trouble more than once for kissing boys on the playground. So it was only natural that I would expect the boys to like me back. When they didn’t, it cut me, it cut me real deep. Two episodes stand out to me more than the others—picture it, Bristol, 1984. A cute-as-a-button Big E dressed in her tailor made finery (complete with tag reading “Made With Love By Mommy” sewn into the back) was out on the playground when she spies a kid named Andy. He’s got something in his chubby hand that he says is a present, and of course Big E thinks it’s for her. He walks toward her, coming closer, closer…and walks right past, to another girl named Amanda. He gives Amanda a ruby ring he had stolen from his mamaw’s jewelry box (hey, this is Bristol we’re talkin’ about here) and Amanda fawns over it with sickening glee. Big E stomps her tiny oxford clad feet and pouts the rest of the day. The next day on the school bus, Big E feels a tap on her shoulder. It’s Jimmy Yarber, her fellow kindergarten classmate. He says to her that he’s brought her something, and produces a gold metal ring with a red plastic jewel perched atop it. He says that he wanted Big E to have her own ruby ring so he got one for her from the chicken egg machine at the grocery store. He spent a whole quarter on it! Big E proudly dons the ring and walks into Mrs. Tauscher’s class feeling like the best girl in the world.
Cut to first grade—Big E is still not only the cutest girl in her class, but naturally the smartest. She gets her work done, always has examples ready to demonstrate for her “letter of the day” presentations, and knows how to bat her eyelashes for an extra Oreo at snack time. Since she’s a good girl, she always gets to go to recess, but not all of the children are as good as her. Especially not a little boy named Wes Combs. Wes is incorrigible and seems to have a hard time staying in his seat, thus causing him to miss recess frequently and have to sit in the classroom and write sentences. One lovely day, Big E comes in during recess to get a kickball or some sort of game equipment from the room. There sits Wes in all his badassery, writing sentences and generally making a mockery of his education. The teacher assigned to watch him has her head down, reading a book. So what does Wes do before Big E goes back outside? He says, “hey, look at this!” and proceeds to show Big E his tiny, 6 year old wiener. Yep, that’s right—indecent exposure. Big E squeals and runs from the room, still scarred by the experience 25 years later. To this day I don’t know his motivation, but I’m 99% positive he probably saw his dad or his older brother do it and thought it was a good idea.
So what lessons did I learn from these early life experiences?
Lesson #1—there are still nice guys out there.
Lesson #2—those guys usually have don’t stay in from recess because they were bad.
Really though, what it taught me is that I can’t expect every guy to like me, and if I do, that’s my fault. Some guys just aren’t that into you, or they have too many hang ups, or all they want to do is show you their dong. And the minute that you get your hopes up that he’ll call, or take you on another date, or generally act like someone you’d want to be seen with in public is the minute that you can throw all that out the window. People are people, and they screw up. If you have your sights set too high, all you’re going to do is drown when it rains. You have to have a healthy dose of realism when it comes to dating. Trying not to expect too much while still keeping your standards where you want them to be is a tough thing, but it’s not impossible. Trust me, I learned the hard way.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Creating the Perfect Storm
OK Y’all,
So I’m going to do a little exercise today, and not of the physical variety (though Lord knows I needed to get on THAT wagon a loooooong time ago). I’m going to indulge myself a little and be creative—all for the sake of l’amour. We all have the requisite “list” of things that we want in a partner; some people have a much longer list than others. So I thought, why not create myself a perfect man, piece by piece, using qualities I find in those men I admire, famous and non-famous? It sounded pretty good, so here we go: The Big E’s Perfect Specimen: Exhibit A.
1. Face: Obviously face is going to be first, because let’s “face” it…you’ve got to want to look at this guy every morning and think, Boy howdy! I am one lucky cowgirl! So I will have to go with Paul Walker. He is soooo pretty. I mean, ridiculously blue eyes, sculpted jaw, and lips like pillows of marshmallow crème—what else could a girl want to look at when heavy breathing is involved? Bradley Cooper would be a close second, and though he has limpid pools of gorgeousness for eyes, he’s a little big in the snout for me, which could potentially hinder proper kissing technique. Paul’s got the perfect face for causing me to melt into my socks. I know a lot of girls wouldn’t want a “pretty” boy, they’d want a rugged man, and honestly I can see that. But like I said, if I’m going to wake up and want to shake my own hand for how well I’ve done, Paul can get it done every time.
2. Body: Paul’s a very good contender for this category as well, but he’s a little lean for me. I’d want someone who’s built well but not too skinny. I’m going to go with Gerard Butler in his 300 days. He looks like a guy who would whoop Batman’s ass and still be able to lift heavy furniture without issue, but would certainly go wing for wing with you at the bar. I like how broad his shoulders are and he’s got a cute bum—perfect for squeezing when congratulating him on a job well done after moving said furniture.
3. Voice: I would want him to talk to me like Matthew McConaughey. I love that Southern drawl that sounds like honey dripping off a graham cracker. He’s got to be a crooner too, and for that, nobody beats Michael Buble. That boy has magic in his larynx; I don’t know why in the world he would ever say regular words when he could sing them all and entrance hoards of women into doing his bidding.
4. Sense of Humor: Hands down, Vince Vaughn. He’s dirty, he’s quick, and he will take it to levels you never considered before, all while you’re struggling to catch your breath from laughing so hard. It takes intelligence to be that fast on the draw, to make impromptu connections and non sequiturs that work perfectly. And I want it. BAD.
5. Intelligence: I’m not going to lie; I like to feel like the smart one, but not the one who’s so much smarter that it’s a struggle to hold a conversation. I don’t want some mook, I want a reasonably smart guy who appreciates my predilection for trivia and craftiness. So I am going to have to go with my pal Big Worm. He’s super smart, and probably the only one I consider to be as smart or possibly even smarter than me. He has a fantastic trivia recall, and like me, can’t stand math. If we were truly smart, we’d probably breed our own race of superhumans, but for now I’ll settle for being intellectual counterparts.
6. Romantic Tendencies: I’m the kind of girl who likes attention, and who likes to feel wanted and needed. I like presents, I like compliments, and I like to be taken care of. I want someone who will share my interests, but still have some of his own. I need just the right amount of mush and thoughtfulness combined with a backbone. For that, I would want someone to treat me the way my Dad treats my Mom. He acts like my Mom absolutely hung the moon and the entire world revolves around her. He wants her to have what she wants and he always tells her how pretty she is and how impressed he is with her, but he isn’t a pussy. I really respect my Dad—he’s a man’s man who loves his woman. Paul-Gerard-Matt-Michael-Vince-Worm has big shoes to fill.
Alrighty y’all! That’s all I’ve got. Hit me up if you have comments!
So I’m going to do a little exercise today, and not of the physical variety (though Lord knows I needed to get on THAT wagon a loooooong time ago). I’m going to indulge myself a little and be creative—all for the sake of l’amour. We all have the requisite “list” of things that we want in a partner; some people have a much longer list than others. So I thought, why not create myself a perfect man, piece by piece, using qualities I find in those men I admire, famous and non-famous? It sounded pretty good, so here we go: The Big E’s Perfect Specimen: Exhibit A.
1. Face: Obviously face is going to be first, because let’s “face” it…you’ve got to want to look at this guy every morning and think, Boy howdy! I am one lucky cowgirl! So I will have to go with Paul Walker. He is soooo pretty. I mean, ridiculously blue eyes, sculpted jaw, and lips like pillows of marshmallow crème—what else could a girl want to look at when heavy breathing is involved? Bradley Cooper would be a close second, and though he has limpid pools of gorgeousness for eyes, he’s a little big in the snout for me, which could potentially hinder proper kissing technique. Paul’s got the perfect face for causing me to melt into my socks. I know a lot of girls wouldn’t want a “pretty” boy, they’d want a rugged man, and honestly I can see that. But like I said, if I’m going to wake up and want to shake my own hand for how well I’ve done, Paul can get it done every time.
2. Body: Paul’s a very good contender for this category as well, but he’s a little lean for me. I’d want someone who’s built well but not too skinny. I’m going to go with Gerard Butler in his 300 days. He looks like a guy who would whoop Batman’s ass and still be able to lift heavy furniture without issue, but would certainly go wing for wing with you at the bar. I like how broad his shoulders are and he’s got a cute bum—perfect for squeezing when congratulating him on a job well done after moving said furniture.
3. Voice: I would want him to talk to me like Matthew McConaughey. I love that Southern drawl that sounds like honey dripping off a graham cracker. He’s got to be a crooner too, and for that, nobody beats Michael Buble. That boy has magic in his larynx; I don’t know why in the world he would ever say regular words when he could sing them all and entrance hoards of women into doing his bidding.
4. Sense of Humor: Hands down, Vince Vaughn. He’s dirty, he’s quick, and he will take it to levels you never considered before, all while you’re struggling to catch your breath from laughing so hard. It takes intelligence to be that fast on the draw, to make impromptu connections and non sequiturs that work perfectly. And I want it. BAD.
5. Intelligence: I’m not going to lie; I like to feel like the smart one, but not the one who’s so much smarter that it’s a struggle to hold a conversation. I don’t want some mook, I want a reasonably smart guy who appreciates my predilection for trivia and craftiness. So I am going to have to go with my pal Big Worm. He’s super smart, and probably the only one I consider to be as smart or possibly even smarter than me. He has a fantastic trivia recall, and like me, can’t stand math. If we were truly smart, we’d probably breed our own race of superhumans, but for now I’ll settle for being intellectual counterparts.
6. Romantic Tendencies: I’m the kind of girl who likes attention, and who likes to feel wanted and needed. I like presents, I like compliments, and I like to be taken care of. I want someone who will share my interests, but still have some of his own. I need just the right amount of mush and thoughtfulness combined with a backbone. For that, I would want someone to treat me the way my Dad treats my Mom. He acts like my Mom absolutely hung the moon and the entire world revolves around her. He wants her to have what she wants and he always tells her how pretty she is and how impressed he is with her, but he isn’t a pussy. I really respect my Dad—he’s a man’s man who loves his woman. Paul-Gerard-Matt-Michael-Vince-Worm has big shoes to fill.
Alrighty y’all! That’s all I’ve got. Hit me up if you have comments!
Friday, April 23, 2010
Wishin' and Hopin'...and Buildin' and Directin'...
OK Y’all,
So I was reading an article today online about a book this lady named Helen Fisher wrote about the 4 “types” of people and how they date. Apparently Helen did some research with a bunch of people looking for love on match.com and translated it all into these biological types that depend on the presence of higher levels of different chemicals in the brain: Explorer, Builder, Director, and Negotiator. If you’d like to read the article, just copy this link: www.yourtango.com/helenfisher. I read through the types and I realized that I am a combo of two of the types: I am a “Builder” and a “Director.” Here’s the article’s description for each and how they tend to date:
“The second type is the Builder, who expresses with serotonin. These people are calm, social, popular, cautious, but not fearful. Very managerial, they're very good at networking, family's very important to them. They're traditional, conventional, often religious.”
“The third type is the Director, expressive of testosterone. They're direct, decisive, tough-minded and often understand music very well because music is very structural. They're competitive, ambitious and very good at spatial relations.”
“The Builder tends to follow rules and schedules, but you've got to take some risks when you're dating. They're also very social and very network-y so they'll take a new date to meet all their friends when the date might just want to spend the night with them.
The Director often thinks dating is a pain in the neck. They want to get to the point. They also make up their mind too fast so in the middle of the date, if they realize this isn't going anywhere for them, they can be very rude. They've got to relax.”
So I think what Helen is trying to tell me is that I am a hard-headed, dirty old man. And really, I’m fine with that. The thing that sort of got me, though, was that basically the article said that any of these types could date any of the others successfully as long as they thought each other were the shizz. I don’t know who wouldn’t think I’m the shizz, but for argument’s sake, let’s take a closer look.
I’m part Builder, so I’m a rule-following, overly cautious social butterfly. Great! I’ll fit right in at the mixer down at the Moose Lodge with all the other virgins in the quilting circle. Then again, I’m part Director, so not only will I compete so viciously with all the other virgins for the last remaining man at the Moose Lodge Mixer that I will completely railroad them all, but when I acquire said man, I’ll find him absolutely abhorrent in the middle of the first date and proceed to point out all his flaws until he cries or runs screaming. And all he really wanted to do was take me home and give me a railroading of his own. Wow. What a future I have ahead of me! I can almost smell the faint stench of desperation that will certainly be oozing off of me in just a few short months of continuing down that path. So what’s a Builder-Director Girl to do? Helen says Relax. I’m just going to keep networking, socializing, and being popular. There’s got to be somebody out there ready to Build and Direct a life with me.
So I was reading an article today online about a book this lady named Helen Fisher wrote about the 4 “types” of people and how they date. Apparently Helen did some research with a bunch of people looking for love on match.com and translated it all into these biological types that depend on the presence of higher levels of different chemicals in the brain: Explorer, Builder, Director, and Negotiator. If you’d like to read the article, just copy this link: www.yourtango.com/helenfisher. I read through the types and I realized that I am a combo of two of the types: I am a “Builder” and a “Director.” Here’s the article’s description for each and how they tend to date:
“The second type is the Builder, who expresses with serotonin. These people are calm, social, popular, cautious, but not fearful. Very managerial, they're very good at networking, family's very important to them. They're traditional, conventional, often religious.”
“The third type is the Director, expressive of testosterone. They're direct, decisive, tough-minded and often understand music very well because music is very structural. They're competitive, ambitious and very good at spatial relations.”
“The Builder tends to follow rules and schedules, but you've got to take some risks when you're dating. They're also very social and very network-y so they'll take a new date to meet all their friends when the date might just want to spend the night with them.
The Director often thinks dating is a pain in the neck. They want to get to the point. They also make up their mind too fast so in the middle of the date, if they realize this isn't going anywhere for them, they can be very rude. They've got to relax.”
So I think what Helen is trying to tell me is that I am a hard-headed, dirty old man. And really, I’m fine with that. The thing that sort of got me, though, was that basically the article said that any of these types could date any of the others successfully as long as they thought each other were the shizz. I don’t know who wouldn’t think I’m the shizz, but for argument’s sake, let’s take a closer look.
I’m part Builder, so I’m a rule-following, overly cautious social butterfly. Great! I’ll fit right in at the mixer down at the Moose Lodge with all the other virgins in the quilting circle. Then again, I’m part Director, so not only will I compete so viciously with all the other virgins for the last remaining man at the Moose Lodge Mixer that I will completely railroad them all, but when I acquire said man, I’ll find him absolutely abhorrent in the middle of the first date and proceed to point out all his flaws until he cries or runs screaming. And all he really wanted to do was take me home and give me a railroading of his own. Wow. What a future I have ahead of me! I can almost smell the faint stench of desperation that will certainly be oozing off of me in just a few short months of continuing down that path. So what’s a Builder-Director Girl to do? Helen says Relax. I’m just going to keep networking, socializing, and being popular. There’s got to be somebody out there ready to Build and Direct a life with me.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Plop Plop, Fizz Fizz...Oh What A Relief It Is!
OK Y’all,
So here recently I’ve been guilty of doing something that I hate when other people do. In fact, it’s happened twice in the last six months. No, it’s not the ‘dine and dash,’ though that is completely tasteless. It’s what I like to call the “Slow Fizzle.” It’s when you go out with somebody, and either you’re not feeling them, or they’re not feeling you, or you’re both not feeling each other (up or otherwise) and you’re both too lazy to call the other one and say “hey Bub, this is kinda bleh. You say tomato, I say potato…let’s call the whole thing off, whaddya say?” So you just don’t do anything, nobody calls anybody, you both go AWOL, and frankly neither one of you is all that put out by it.
Like I said, I really hate it when people do that to me, but I have been a two time offender in recent months.
The first guy seemed to be pretty interesting, and I was actually interested in him. He was cute, and smart, and we had people in common. I thought there may be something that came of it, or at least some fun to be had. But the more we hung out, I noticed that he didn’t seem to be all that wild about me for whatever reason. And the more disinterested and distracted he acted, the less interested I became. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there were too many things getting in the way and I didn’t really have that much invested in the process. I decided to give him one last chance, just to see if maybe I was wrong, or just confused with the signals I was getting, but my gut was right. He was the firework in the 9.99 bundle at Crazy Al’s that just didn’t want to spark, no matter how many times you tried to light it. So I thanked him for our date, got in my car, drove home, and didn’t hear from him for weeks. I sent him a text at one point just to make sure he was in fact still alive, and he was. So I just left it at that. It didn’t really bother me because I felt like I was worth more than a lukewarm response. I’m sure he’s fine. I’m fine. It just fizzled little by little and didn’t end with a bang but a whimper.
The second guy I wasn’t so interested in outwardly, but he had a lot of good qualities on paper. I thought I’d at least give him a shot, and he did impress me in a superficial sort of way. He obviously set out to do his best and he really gave it a nice effort. But I just couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that I would always be on the lookout for someone better looking. I really wanted to like him. So what did I do? I gave it the old college try. I argued with myself. I tried to talk myself into it. But when I went out of town for a week and didn’t even give him a second thought, I knew I had to let it go. I know that sounds really, really shallow and awful, and I admit that I am a really, really shallow, awful person sometimes, and even with that admission and realization I still couldn’t get past it. I just couldn’t imagine myself with him 10 years down the road. I’m not saying you have to be Dash Riprock, and I’m not saying I’m Hottie McHotness, but I’ve got to see something in your appearance that I like or it’s just not going to work. It’s a primal instinct. Fortunately for me, I think he took my lack of contact as a hint and he progressively slowed the contact as well. Sure enough, I never heard from him after a brief text exchange one evening. I was a complete coward and never bothered to get in touch with him again either. It all worked out in the wash I guess. I don’t condone the Slow Fizzle, but I suppose now I’m just as guilty as the rest of us who’ve done it. I suppose my sentence is to remain single. Fortunately it’s a sentence I’m used to.
So here recently I’ve been guilty of doing something that I hate when other people do. In fact, it’s happened twice in the last six months. No, it’s not the ‘dine and dash,’ though that is completely tasteless. It’s what I like to call the “Slow Fizzle.” It’s when you go out with somebody, and either you’re not feeling them, or they’re not feeling you, or you’re both not feeling each other (up or otherwise) and you’re both too lazy to call the other one and say “hey Bub, this is kinda bleh. You say tomato, I say potato…let’s call the whole thing off, whaddya say?” So you just don’t do anything, nobody calls anybody, you both go AWOL, and frankly neither one of you is all that put out by it.
Like I said, I really hate it when people do that to me, but I have been a two time offender in recent months.
The first guy seemed to be pretty interesting, and I was actually interested in him. He was cute, and smart, and we had people in common. I thought there may be something that came of it, or at least some fun to be had. But the more we hung out, I noticed that he didn’t seem to be all that wild about me for whatever reason. And the more disinterested and distracted he acted, the less interested I became. I wanted to give him the benefit of the doubt, but there were too many things getting in the way and I didn’t really have that much invested in the process. I decided to give him one last chance, just to see if maybe I was wrong, or just confused with the signals I was getting, but my gut was right. He was the firework in the 9.99 bundle at Crazy Al’s that just didn’t want to spark, no matter how many times you tried to light it. So I thanked him for our date, got in my car, drove home, and didn’t hear from him for weeks. I sent him a text at one point just to make sure he was in fact still alive, and he was. So I just left it at that. It didn’t really bother me because I felt like I was worth more than a lukewarm response. I’m sure he’s fine. I’m fine. It just fizzled little by little and didn’t end with a bang but a whimper.
The second guy I wasn’t so interested in outwardly, but he had a lot of good qualities on paper. I thought I’d at least give him a shot, and he did impress me in a superficial sort of way. He obviously set out to do his best and he really gave it a nice effort. But I just couldn’t get rid of the nagging feeling that I would always be on the lookout for someone better looking. I really wanted to like him. So what did I do? I gave it the old college try. I argued with myself. I tried to talk myself into it. But when I went out of town for a week and didn’t even give him a second thought, I knew I had to let it go. I know that sounds really, really shallow and awful, and I admit that I am a really, really shallow, awful person sometimes, and even with that admission and realization I still couldn’t get past it. I just couldn’t imagine myself with him 10 years down the road. I’m not saying you have to be Dash Riprock, and I’m not saying I’m Hottie McHotness, but I’ve got to see something in your appearance that I like or it’s just not going to work. It’s a primal instinct. Fortunately for me, I think he took my lack of contact as a hint and he progressively slowed the contact as well. Sure enough, I never heard from him after a brief text exchange one evening. I was a complete coward and never bothered to get in touch with him again either. It all worked out in the wash I guess. I don’t condone the Slow Fizzle, but I suppose now I’m just as guilty as the rest of us who’ve done it. I suppose my sentence is to remain single. Fortunately it’s a sentence I’m used to.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
Learn From My Fail
OK Y’all,
So I was reading my newest ladies magazine the other night and they had a breakdown of different types of guys and how to spot them. It was pretty stereotypical, with the brooding intellectual, the surfer dude, and the well-dressed heartbreaker all making an appearance. Reading those descriptions got me thinking about the men I have known or dated in my own life, and led me to create some descriptions of my own. Here’s what I came up with:
1.The Goodyear Blimp: I call this guy a blimp not because he is fat (though the one I dated was a total chubbo) but because he is full of hot air. This guy talks a good game, but when it comes right down to it, he’s got nothing to show for his peacockery. The guy I dated looked great from the outside—a sports career, nice car, good family, attentive nature. He seemed to be exactly what I was looking for as far as ambition and drive, and presented himself as a hard-working, moral person. I had visions of us making a life together and conquering the world with his business savvy and my creativity. What he turned out to be was a failure at life, relying on his parents for a job, a ride, and a place to live. He had no faith, no self-esteem, and he couldn’t give a compliment if his life depended on it. Unfortunately, it took me 2.5 years of my life to finally be done with him, and the humiliating part was, HE dumped ME. Ridiculous!
2.The Rodeo Clown: This guy is a clown not because he’s funny, but because he makes an ass out of himself from all the drama he gets himself into or chooses to be a part of. He’s a rollercoaster of emotional turmoil, and dating him is much akin to riding a bull and trying to stay on for the whole 8 seconds. You’re trying to follow the dips and bucks, but it’s the most frustrating thing you’ve ever tried to accomplish. Well guess what friends? I’m not Lane Frost, and this guy is no good for you, especially if you’re more into pony rides than steer roping. He’s always pining away over some long lost love, or finding himself embroiled in some latent feelings from a “friend” or some mystery person from the past that only revealed themselves when you decide to go out with him. It’s not as bad as it seems, though, because eventually this guy will recede so far into his cocoon of emotional upheaval that he’ll forget to call or text you for weeks. And surprisingly, it’ll not even occur to you until you sit down to write your next blog.
3.The Wolf: this guy is almost the opposite of the Blimp, because he actually does have the qualities you’re looking for and demonstrates them regularly. You get all comfortable being treated like you’re the best stuff on earth besides Snapple, and suddenly the rug gets pulled out from under you. The sweet, loving, well-mannered guy you were dating turns into a total cad. He stops calling when he says he will, breaks plans or makes them and doesn’t show up, and generally turns into a frat boy at midnight—he’s gone from the Sheep to the Wolf. It may take a little while to figure out the Wolf, as his deceptions begin somewhat innocently, with a little extra time elapsing between calls or dates, accompanied by what seems to be a reasonable excuse. But trust me ladies, the time to wise up is not the time that your friend that lives across the street from him tells you that some girl has a moving truck outside his apartment and is hauling all his furniture out. Just a little warning to prepare yourselves—don’t say I didn’t tell you.
4.The Rick Astley: this guy is never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down…until he does it for the 14th time again this week. This poor guy has all the best intentions, and really does mean well, but he’s overextended himself to the point that having a girlfriend is only a theory and not a scientific fact. He’s working full time, into several hobbies, and has a passel of friends that always want to hang out. It’s easy to see why—he’s got personality in spades and is great at one-liners. But this guy is never going to have the time to really devote to your relationship if you’re even vaguely interested in spending more than 10 minutes with him, while he’s awake, and not working, and…..you get my drift. He tries hard, but he’s got too much going on to really make a relationship work, despite his many promises that he will do better. Do both of yourselves a favor and just let this one go. You can always be friends, but you won’t have to sit around for hours after he said he’d be someplace on Friday night.
Ok folks, that’s all I’ve got this week. Hit me up and let me know what you think—rants, raves, comments, questions!
So I was reading my newest ladies magazine the other night and they had a breakdown of different types of guys and how to spot them. It was pretty stereotypical, with the brooding intellectual, the surfer dude, and the well-dressed heartbreaker all making an appearance. Reading those descriptions got me thinking about the men I have known or dated in my own life, and led me to create some descriptions of my own. Here’s what I came up with:
1.The Goodyear Blimp: I call this guy a blimp not because he is fat (though the one I dated was a total chubbo) but because he is full of hot air. This guy talks a good game, but when it comes right down to it, he’s got nothing to show for his peacockery. The guy I dated looked great from the outside—a sports career, nice car, good family, attentive nature. He seemed to be exactly what I was looking for as far as ambition and drive, and presented himself as a hard-working, moral person. I had visions of us making a life together and conquering the world with his business savvy and my creativity. What he turned out to be was a failure at life, relying on his parents for a job, a ride, and a place to live. He had no faith, no self-esteem, and he couldn’t give a compliment if his life depended on it. Unfortunately, it took me 2.5 years of my life to finally be done with him, and the humiliating part was, HE dumped ME. Ridiculous!
2.The Rodeo Clown: This guy is a clown not because he’s funny, but because he makes an ass out of himself from all the drama he gets himself into or chooses to be a part of. He’s a rollercoaster of emotional turmoil, and dating him is much akin to riding a bull and trying to stay on for the whole 8 seconds. You’re trying to follow the dips and bucks, but it’s the most frustrating thing you’ve ever tried to accomplish. Well guess what friends? I’m not Lane Frost, and this guy is no good for you, especially if you’re more into pony rides than steer roping. He’s always pining away over some long lost love, or finding himself embroiled in some latent feelings from a “friend” or some mystery person from the past that only revealed themselves when you decide to go out with him. It’s not as bad as it seems, though, because eventually this guy will recede so far into his cocoon of emotional upheaval that he’ll forget to call or text you for weeks. And surprisingly, it’ll not even occur to you until you sit down to write your next blog.
3.The Wolf: this guy is almost the opposite of the Blimp, because he actually does have the qualities you’re looking for and demonstrates them regularly. You get all comfortable being treated like you’re the best stuff on earth besides Snapple, and suddenly the rug gets pulled out from under you. The sweet, loving, well-mannered guy you were dating turns into a total cad. He stops calling when he says he will, breaks plans or makes them and doesn’t show up, and generally turns into a frat boy at midnight—he’s gone from the Sheep to the Wolf. It may take a little while to figure out the Wolf, as his deceptions begin somewhat innocently, with a little extra time elapsing between calls or dates, accompanied by what seems to be a reasonable excuse. But trust me ladies, the time to wise up is not the time that your friend that lives across the street from him tells you that some girl has a moving truck outside his apartment and is hauling all his furniture out. Just a little warning to prepare yourselves—don’t say I didn’t tell you.
4.The Rick Astley: this guy is never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down…until he does it for the 14th time again this week. This poor guy has all the best intentions, and really does mean well, but he’s overextended himself to the point that having a girlfriend is only a theory and not a scientific fact. He’s working full time, into several hobbies, and has a passel of friends that always want to hang out. It’s easy to see why—he’s got personality in spades and is great at one-liners. But this guy is never going to have the time to really devote to your relationship if you’re even vaguely interested in spending more than 10 minutes with him, while he’s awake, and not working, and…..you get my drift. He tries hard, but he’s got too much going on to really make a relationship work, despite his many promises that he will do better. Do both of yourselves a favor and just let this one go. You can always be friends, but you won’t have to sit around for hours after he said he’d be someplace on Friday night.
Ok folks, that’s all I’ve got this week. Hit me up and let me know what you think—rants, raves, comments, questions!
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Call 'Em Like You See 'Em
Ok Y’all,
So I was just hanging out at home the other night when I got a text from a friend of mine who asked me an odd question. He wanted to know if girls judge guys on what kind of phone they have. He was a little worried and self conscious because his phone is sort of a POS and he’s too cheap to get another one, but he still wants to present himself in a decent light for the ladyfolk. I thought about it and honestly I could care less what kind of phone someone has, as long as they call me, you know? My friend was relieved, but it got me to thinking about what other little things I, as a woman, really do take into account when sizing up a guy. Granted, none of these things by itself has caused me to not go out with someone, but in the aggregate I believe it says a lot about a person and their tastes and predilections. Here’s what I’ve come up with off the cuff:
1.Shoes. I’m sorry, but if you’re wearing the new Jordans with a pair of dress pants, you are probably A. Nelly or B. sartorially challenged. I’m not saying that you have to wear the best pair of Cole Haans you can get your hands on, but you have to have a little bit of style. Match your shoe type to the outfit at hand, and try to put a little effort into it so you don’t look like a goof. Same goes for pointy shoes. Men who wear pointy shoes run the risk of looking like they might be going on a date with another man, or they’re next in line for the elf tryouts at Santa’s Workshop. They’re a don’t all the way around, and personally I would rather you wore flip flops in the dead of winter than force me to look at those gawd awful brogans.
2.Fingernails. I don’t understand why, when there’s a Walgreens literally on every corner that sells clippers, that guys can’t cut and/or clean under their fingernails. I have dated a few guys who got regular manicures from me, and they were quite grateful for it, but it always confounded me as to why I had to be the one to keep up with the grooming of their phalanges. So, a little hint, fellas—check your nails once in a while. Cut them, and clean them. It takes a couple of minutes that I promise you will give you hours of enjoyment from the opposite sex.
3.Facial hair. This also falls into the grooming category. I personally find many guys very attractive with facial hair. Hell, my dad has had at least a mustache his entire life and I think he’s a handsome dude, but he’s also 62. Certain types of facial hair need to be reviewed before sporting. My thoughts: Guys who are under 50 probably should forego the ‘stache unless accompanied by a goatee. Beards I can deal with, but it has to be a tidy beard, not like a Joaquin Phoenix on crack beard (“Is there a frog on my head?”) or a ZZ Top type thing. Most ladies also don’t want some scraggly, patchy mess that looks like you got into a fight with a hot glue gun and lost. If you can’t grow it like a man, don’t try to go there. Sideburns are totally ok at any age as long as they are more Brandon Walsh than Elvis. There it is—now go out and get you some chin pubes.
4.Voice and diction. Now, I know that people cannot help a lot of what happens during puberty to affect their vocal cords, but it’s getting ridiculous out there and I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t say something. It’s what I call the classic “David Beckham Syndrome”—a good looking dude that chicks drool over until he opens his mouth and sounds like he just sucked down an entire liter of helium. Not sexy! The same rule applies to guys with excessive sibilance—you just end up sounding like you need some of the aforementioned pointy shoes. Think Sean Connery, Harrison Ford, Matthew McConaughey—those dudes have some speaking skills. You want to have a nice, manly timbre with a pleasing accent. I’m not saying Southern isn’t sexy, I’m just saying there’s a difference between Southern and Redneck. I shouldn’t need an interpreter from the Blue Collar Comedy Tour to help decipher what it is you just asked me because you can’t form words properly. In fact, I love me a nice Southern accent (like Mr. McConaughey), especially when he whispers those 4 little words every girl likes to hear—“I’ll pay for dinner.”
Alright peeps, that’s all I got! Let me know your thoughts, opinions, rants, and raves!!
So I was just hanging out at home the other night when I got a text from a friend of mine who asked me an odd question. He wanted to know if girls judge guys on what kind of phone they have. He was a little worried and self conscious because his phone is sort of a POS and he’s too cheap to get another one, but he still wants to present himself in a decent light for the ladyfolk. I thought about it and honestly I could care less what kind of phone someone has, as long as they call me, you know? My friend was relieved, but it got me to thinking about what other little things I, as a woman, really do take into account when sizing up a guy. Granted, none of these things by itself has caused me to not go out with someone, but in the aggregate I believe it says a lot about a person and their tastes and predilections. Here’s what I’ve come up with off the cuff:
1.Shoes. I’m sorry, but if you’re wearing the new Jordans with a pair of dress pants, you are probably A. Nelly or B. sartorially challenged. I’m not saying that you have to wear the best pair of Cole Haans you can get your hands on, but you have to have a little bit of style. Match your shoe type to the outfit at hand, and try to put a little effort into it so you don’t look like a goof. Same goes for pointy shoes. Men who wear pointy shoes run the risk of looking like they might be going on a date with another man, or they’re next in line for the elf tryouts at Santa’s Workshop. They’re a don’t all the way around, and personally I would rather you wore flip flops in the dead of winter than force me to look at those gawd awful brogans.
2.Fingernails. I don’t understand why, when there’s a Walgreens literally on every corner that sells clippers, that guys can’t cut and/or clean under their fingernails. I have dated a few guys who got regular manicures from me, and they were quite grateful for it, but it always confounded me as to why I had to be the one to keep up with the grooming of their phalanges. So, a little hint, fellas—check your nails once in a while. Cut them, and clean them. It takes a couple of minutes that I promise you will give you hours of enjoyment from the opposite sex.
3.Facial hair. This also falls into the grooming category. I personally find many guys very attractive with facial hair. Hell, my dad has had at least a mustache his entire life and I think he’s a handsome dude, but he’s also 62. Certain types of facial hair need to be reviewed before sporting. My thoughts: Guys who are under 50 probably should forego the ‘stache unless accompanied by a goatee. Beards I can deal with, but it has to be a tidy beard, not like a Joaquin Phoenix on crack beard (“Is there a frog on my head?”) or a ZZ Top type thing. Most ladies also don’t want some scraggly, patchy mess that looks like you got into a fight with a hot glue gun and lost. If you can’t grow it like a man, don’t try to go there. Sideburns are totally ok at any age as long as they are more Brandon Walsh than Elvis. There it is—now go out and get you some chin pubes.
4.Voice and diction. Now, I know that people cannot help a lot of what happens during puberty to affect their vocal cords, but it’s getting ridiculous out there and I feel I would be remiss if I didn’t say something. It’s what I call the classic “David Beckham Syndrome”—a good looking dude that chicks drool over until he opens his mouth and sounds like he just sucked down an entire liter of helium. Not sexy! The same rule applies to guys with excessive sibilance—you just end up sounding like you need some of the aforementioned pointy shoes. Think Sean Connery, Harrison Ford, Matthew McConaughey—those dudes have some speaking skills. You want to have a nice, manly timbre with a pleasing accent. I’m not saying Southern isn’t sexy, I’m just saying there’s a difference between Southern and Redneck. I shouldn’t need an interpreter from the Blue Collar Comedy Tour to help decipher what it is you just asked me because you can’t form words properly. In fact, I love me a nice Southern accent (like Mr. McConaughey), especially when he whispers those 4 little words every girl likes to hear—“I’ll pay for dinner.”
Alright peeps, that’s all I got! Let me know your thoughts, opinions, rants, and raves!!
Thursday, January 7, 2010
Keep On Truckin'
Ok Y’all,
So it’s a new year and I think we can all agree that now’s as good a time as any to make some dating resolutions. It only makes sense that whilst I attempt to overhaul my diet and exercise regimen that I overhaul my outlook on wooing and being wooed by the opposite sex. Here’s what I’ve come up with:
Resolution #1: I will not date out of boredom. There have been a few times in my life where I’ve been in a bit of a dating lull, and to combat the lull, I have made questionable dating choices out of sheer ennui. Now that’s not to say that my dates were not decent people, or that they did not put forth effort, just that I was not quite in the frame of mind to be working toward anything but a good time, or the person I was going out with had a few deal breakers that I knew were not going to be acceptable over the long-term. And you and I both know that can sometimes cause hurt feelings, especially when the person you are going out with is genuinely interested in you but you are not so interested in them. Obviously, being honest about your intentions for the date up front is preferable, but who’s going to want to take you anywhere if you blurt out, “Hey, dudarino, I’m only going out with you because, even though you are ridiculously wrong for me, I couldn’t stand another night of Golden Girls reruns and stale pizza”? I’ll take NOBODY for $500, Alex. But hey, if you’re both bored and just want to hang out with no expectations, then by all means, friends.
Resolution #2: I will not settle for less than I deserve. I have been in several dating situations that were also less than ideal because converse to Resolution #1, I was the one who was more into the relationship. And it ended up causing me some heartache because I went over and above to prove myself to someone who couldn’t have given a shit less. I tend to be that person—trying to prove that I am helpful, fun, smart, whatever. And no one should have to work that hard. As a woman, I want a man who is going to be excited to see me and spend time with me, flattered to have me on his arm at a restaurant/theater/honky tonk/beer pong tournament, and totally pumped at the prospect that my lips might somehow touch his—just because I am me. I want to feel wanted, beautiful, and skinny. And this year I am not going to settle for someone who does not treat me thus.
Resolution #3: I will be honest, but tactful. This one is probably going to be the hardest one for me to keep, because if you’ve met me or even read the last couple of posts, I’m not exactly Nancy Niceness. I tend to err on the side of being blunt with a side of “WTF did she just say to me?!?!” and it gets me in trouble. When I think back on some of the things I have said to boyfriends past, I cringe. And I know in my heart that if they had said those things to me, I would have punched them squarely in the wedding tackle. So this year, I’m going to be my creative best in crafting the harsh words I’m thinking into fluffy pillows of constructive feedback. Will I fail on occasion? Abso-frickin’-lutely. But I’m going to pick myself up and try again, after I apologize profusely and go buy some new lingerie.
Alright, give me your dating resolutions, rants, raves, and comments! Happy new year and happy dating!
So it’s a new year and I think we can all agree that now’s as good a time as any to make some dating resolutions. It only makes sense that whilst I attempt to overhaul my diet and exercise regimen that I overhaul my outlook on wooing and being wooed by the opposite sex. Here’s what I’ve come up with:
Resolution #1: I will not date out of boredom. There have been a few times in my life where I’ve been in a bit of a dating lull, and to combat the lull, I have made questionable dating choices out of sheer ennui. Now that’s not to say that my dates were not decent people, or that they did not put forth effort, just that I was not quite in the frame of mind to be working toward anything but a good time, or the person I was going out with had a few deal breakers that I knew were not going to be acceptable over the long-term. And you and I both know that can sometimes cause hurt feelings, especially when the person you are going out with is genuinely interested in you but you are not so interested in them. Obviously, being honest about your intentions for the date up front is preferable, but who’s going to want to take you anywhere if you blurt out, “Hey, dudarino, I’m only going out with you because, even though you are ridiculously wrong for me, I couldn’t stand another night of Golden Girls reruns and stale pizza”? I’ll take NOBODY for $500, Alex. But hey, if you’re both bored and just want to hang out with no expectations, then by all means, friends.
Resolution #2: I will not settle for less than I deserve. I have been in several dating situations that were also less than ideal because converse to Resolution #1, I was the one who was more into the relationship. And it ended up causing me some heartache because I went over and above to prove myself to someone who couldn’t have given a shit less. I tend to be that person—trying to prove that I am helpful, fun, smart, whatever. And no one should have to work that hard. As a woman, I want a man who is going to be excited to see me and spend time with me, flattered to have me on his arm at a restaurant/theater/honky tonk/beer pong tournament, and totally pumped at the prospect that my lips might somehow touch his—just because I am me. I want to feel wanted, beautiful, and skinny. And this year I am not going to settle for someone who does not treat me thus.
Resolution #3: I will be honest, but tactful. This one is probably going to be the hardest one for me to keep, because if you’ve met me or even read the last couple of posts, I’m not exactly Nancy Niceness. I tend to err on the side of being blunt with a side of “WTF did she just say to me?!?!” and it gets me in trouble. When I think back on some of the things I have said to boyfriends past, I cringe. And I know in my heart that if they had said those things to me, I would have punched them squarely in the wedding tackle. So this year, I’m going to be my creative best in crafting the harsh words I’m thinking into fluffy pillows of constructive feedback. Will I fail on occasion? Abso-frickin’-lutely. But I’m going to pick myself up and try again, after I apologize profusely and go buy some new lingerie.
Alright, give me your dating resolutions, rants, raves, and comments! Happy new year and happy dating!
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