Breaking All the Non-Rules

Four years later, I’ve learned a great many things. Some dismal realizations about the fragmented, terrified nature of my generation. Some reminders that the world is still as sweet as we once dreamed it would be.
After my divorce, I believed I would never find a love like that again. To some degree, I believe this is still true, but I find comfort in the fact I don’t want to be loved by someone who doesn’t challenge me to be a better version of myself.
I even felt guilty after I fell in love a second time; I felt as though I’d betrayed the most sacred vow, as death had not done us part, but it was invigorating to know the elusive emotion was still alive. Hidden, but alive.
I suppose that was the “Jesus” relationship. After it’s bloody crucifixion, that horrid crash and burn, the motherfucker rose again, and again. Just when I believed the return of Christ was just another brilliantly crafted myth, the bearded savior revealed himself as a true contender for my heart.
My neurosis hasn’t calmed completely. I’ve spent far too many hours letting my thoughts about this man splinter and race like blurred taillights down the highways to hell. “Does he want to BE with me? or is this just another comfortable convenience?” “What are we doing here?” “Who is this long-distance woman who continues captivating his attention?” “Is it my business?” “Am I just an option?” “Is he serious?”
Maybe most importantly: “Am I serious?”
The more I dissect, the more I feel I haven’t learned a damn thing from the years spent in the modern world of Millenial non-dating (trust me, you aren’t allowed to use that word). I was still attracted to the same type of non-committal guys, the ones who want to drop panties and then drop phone numbers with any and every set of marginally-nice titays. The ones who still acknowledge other woman in your presence, keeping their options open at all times. Keeping you hidden and secret to ensure you don’t mess that all up, then acting like you’re the crazy one.
These are the guys we find attractive, and then we wonder, “Where are all the good ones at?”
A few months ago, I was asking myself about all these infuriating topics again, I realized I was still playing the incredibly frustrating and, for lack of a better term, fucking ridiculous game we all consider the “new normal.”
The dating game goes a little like this:
1. Decide whether you actually like this person through about 20-35 days of trying to read impossible signals and deciphering Facebook/text messages.
2. Continue reading stupid Elite Daily, Cosmopolitan and other nonsensical Internet “list” literature about flirtation, attraction, etc. and drive yourself crazy wondering if there is, in fact, attraction happening. Because, hey, you couldn’t possibly just trust what you fucking feel, right? Verify with a source!
3. Maybe go on a date, but don’t you fucking dare call it a date. Millennials don’t “date.” There is time together with shared food and beverages and maybe even some sex, but even the word “date” implies a level of commitment. #ewwww
4. Don’t talk about the fact you might actually like each other until at least six weeks of not dating has occurred. It doesn’t matter if you’ve already got a designated toothbrush at their apartment, you have to remain cool, calm and collected, unattached as much as possible. Sure you think about the dude all the time… wait nope. You DON’T. Don’t even admit it to yourself.
All these steps will ensure the transition into step five:
5. Remain in a state of uncomfortable, almost unbearable ambiguity for eeeeh, for ambiguity’s sake, like maybe five, six or so weeks. Are they still going to be seeing other people (likely, and don’t you dare ask about who any other chick is, be COOL) Does that mean I should still talk to other people just so I don’t seem like I’m putting all my eggs in one basket (yes)?
But I don’t want to date (fuck, I said it) anyone else… Irrelevant. This new world is all about leaving as many doors open as you can get away with, always ensuring you have an escape from the room you currently share, even if that room has everything you could ever want right there.
When did we get so terrified of each other? When did we collectively become such pussies when it comes to falling in love, or like, or marginal attraction? Jesus Christ, we will jump out of planes, base jump from a cliff, eat raw fish, in fact we now pride ourselves on doing/seeing/being something nobody has ever dreamed up before, but we absolutely refuse to allow ourselves to put our hearts out there like we’re teenagers again.
I’ve been feeling especially adolescent lately…or for the last several months. I’ve got the stomach flip. The butterflies. The daylong daydreams of touching his hair and his lips. Elation at my favorite feature… his voice– alive with laughter and clear as a bell. It literally sounds like the wavelength of joy and destroys any darkness that lingers from a bad day.
I’ve tossed my better judgement to the wind just for a few hours of his presence. I’ve fibbed to my loved ones about where I’m going just to buy more time with him. I’ve filled my life with inconveniences, wasted resources, ignored my duties as an employee, a friend and sometimes even a parent because he is so intoxicating… so comfortable… on my wavelength in so many ways it’s uncanny.
Sleeping with someone’s face on your face is supposed to eventually get old, right? Eventually you want their tree trunk legs off your fucking torso so you can breathe when you sleep, right? Nope. I can’t get enough of everything he has to offer, and his offering is exactly what I want– genuine, humorous, adventurous, kind and generous. That’s it. I want nothing else but his time and affection.
No matter how this pans out, I’ll forever be thankful for this man for restoring my faith in the human heart. I never thought I would be here again, considering the potential for a real connection with another man; I thought I was only left with memories of what Carrie Bradshaw called “The Zsa Zsa Zsu,” but here I am… reminded it can be waiting literally just one flight of stairs and a hallway away.
So here’s the real bottom line: Do the rules (or lack thereof) really matter? I read an article online that compared this tendency to over-analyze and evaluate every aspect of your affections to putting up a barbed-wire fence around a tree. Sure you can protect the tree, but you can’t fucking enjoy the tree! You can’t climb it. You can’t get near it, so what’s the point of protecting it?
I think I’m finished living in this maelstrom of nonsense and I’m ready to just enjoy what’s in front of me. I have the pleasure of sitting across the table from a man I truly enjoy all the time. I get to go to sleep with him and wake up (in a panic) next to him every night. I get to hear that joyful noise of his voice every morning, every time he quietly says, “I like you” during pillow talk, every time he tells me a joke to cheer me up every time he reminds me that he’ll be alright as long as I’m there. Plus we goin’ on a god damn cruise, bitches.
Sure it seems like the environment is working against us all the time, but I just want this tree to grow and be strong in a natural state. Is that too much to ask?


Terror of the Alpha: Part 3

You can say “fuck him” all you want in your own head, but secretly you know you are your own worst enemy.
Since you’re already a slave to the sins of the past why not start there to develop your strategy for self destruction?

Go ahead and assume every shitty thing that anyone’s ever done before is about to happen again, so you can be sure to keep your blocking arm out. Keep joy at a healthy distance. Smother out any happiness that may be right in front of you because you’re too fucking scared.
Lord knows you can’t risk another human ripping out what’s left of your heart and devouring it right before he leaves. You can’t risk being hurt…again.
So yeah, convince yourself it’s better to feel nothing.
Hold in everything until the words fall from your eyes in salty droplets as he peacefully sleeps next to you…oblivious to his crushing power.
Always remember the Karmic kicker, though; You’ll never be able to give yourself to another if you’re mentally keeping him at Heisman length.
You’ll never revel in the glory of companionship. You’ll never have the unadulterated feeling of attraction or affection. You’ll always ensure everything falls apart before it can ever really begin.

You will choose the Omega to this Alpha.

I know you want to be safe, but stop cock-blocking yourself. Let the past be the past and unwrap this present of the present.

Anniversary of an Uninteresting Event

Exactly one year ago this week, I first met him face-to-face… Our first date. Great night, minus the fact I drank too much and wound up in the bathroom. He thought I left without saying goodnight.
We used to laugh about having the most terrible first date ever. I had hoped we would come back to that bar on our future anniversaries and make more memories.
The end came before we could even have one.
Yet, here I am, still thinking of him fondly; enough so that sometimes I might shed a solitary tear when a happy memory sprouts in my mind.
I just don’t understand why I’m having such a hard time getting over this person. It’s been months. I have no hopes of ever reconciling with this man. Even if hell froze over and he asked for another chance I don’t think I could endure it again.
So why is he still on the brain?
Charlotte York always followed the rule that you must take half the duration of your relationship to get over a person. That seems pretty reasonable, but I have to disagree.
I’ve never loved anyone the way I loved him. Now I don’t know if I’ll ever love anyone like him again.
I’m perfectly happy just spending my free time with my son. He’s older now and needs more of my attention, which I’m happy to give him. I’m not really interested in taking the time and effort to date right now.
But deep down, I think I’m still not ready to accept the fact that I met the person I wanted to be with, the person I planned a future with, and he threw me away.
The unhappy memories aren’t the most painful, though. It’s the memories of out of town adventures, stupid jokes, afternoon delights, nights on the porch, watching him play with my son, the first time he said he loved me…these are the tearjerker moments.
Just when I got to that point I was close to moving on, the milestone cycle begins. Who knows how many of these cognitive anniversaries I’ll have to endure in the coming months?
And it always makes me wonder, “is he remembering today like I am?” Both the hopeless romantic and the vengeful bitch in me hope he is… Hoping he’s shaking his head and saying the same thing I say to myself, “Man, that was a good time. I wish I could have that again.”

Plenty of herrings

We live our lives online, and some even live a Second life online. So it’s no surprise that one prominent online dating website claims one in five relationships now begin on the Internet. I first began perusing the pages of Plenty of Fish a while back as a joke; just as something a friend told me was attracting the attention of crazy, backwards “ladies.” I signed up wanting to just laugh at the silly sites, which is how I met Chris. I didn’t expect to fall in love.
That’s over now, but the emails haven’t stopped, and I’ve finally got what I came for. Once you read one or two it becomes an addiction. It’s like a feeding frenzy has started, and I’m ecstatic every time I come across a new profile that makes me say, “what? You did not put that on you profile!”
So, here are a few gems I’ve come across in past weeks that have made me say, “Seriously?”:
Infinitely regret that mustache.


Furries wanted.

Narcissistic much?

Two in one profile? Double narcissism.


Totally hot, if you’re into ventriloquist dummies.

Aaaaand an all midget Kiss cover band.

Interests for this good, Christian pot head? “living.” Sorry mom. Hopefully it will be between me and my lady, oh and the entire Internet.

This guy looks like loads of fun.

There must be a lot of beanies in this guy’s closet… And beach bag apparently.


And what’s up with the unzipped hooded sweatshirts?

Narcissism in a furry hat.

When trying to pick up chicks online, don’t post a bunch of pictures of you and your boyfriend on your profile.

or a picture of your life peaking when you met the Jamaican beer dude…

or doing this.

How to make a Prince Charming: Part Crown, part tequila, two cigarettes, and a dash of lime.

The fish isn’t even worth photographing. Narcissism?

aaah, pure, unbridled narcissism.

And when you don’t have a good photo of yourself, Dwight Schrute playing pool is a good default pic.

Interests: “tattoos, music, having a day off. Oh, yeah, and murder.”

My panties spontaneously flew off the second my eyes witnessed all this awesomeness. It’s like they’re living in a Fresh Prince video!

You’re a man seeking a woman?

When grandma is having herself immortalized by a computerized pencil sketch artist, she always wears her best polo shirt.

She’s real to the bone. she works night shift job.

Okay, technically this isn’t a dating profile pic, but it’s still supposed to be enticing. and what’s more enticing than a tribal, tramp stamp on a guy’s abdomen?

20130123-225957.jpg Answer: puka beads and a knitted-by-granny heart pillow to cover your junk.

Approximately 67 percent of your profile pics are related to a basketball team. And the primary photo is a meme. Deep.

Don’t worry; he won’t stalk you unless he really likes you.

“If something develops and it’s mutual, that would be nice if not, that’s okay” Actually, that’s considered a felony, even if the woman is obese.

in the end, who really needs online dating sites when you can just look on Craigslist for venom removal specials?

Status quo, GO!

Fruit ripens when conditions are right, not when we’re hungry for a bite.

So it was brought to my attention recently that in the midst of my soul searching re: my feelings about a friend I’ve been spending time with, that I should ask him how he feels about me.

Well duh. That would be something normal people do.

I was a bit ashamed of the fact that I’d been spending so much free time with this man and essentially laying down all the “rules.”

I didn’t want to be anyone’s girlfriend, I told him. But I liked him a lot and wanted to continue spending time together. Of course we were free to see others and whatnot, but I wasn’t ready to jump to another man immediately after another crushed me.

Ive recently realized that im not super comfortable with the idea of him seeing other people. I haven’t been seeing anyone else, but I never really thought about how I would react if he said “I can’t hang out with you tonight, I have a date.”

When you get to that point, you have to start reevaluating what it is the two of you are doing…what you hope to achieve from the input of time and money and effort.

In my case, as I stated before, I just want someone to want to be with me and understand my baby has to come first. It’s been difficult to say the least to find any men in this town who don’t view a child as an added burden rather than a blessing.


Well, I was ready to ask my object of affection on a date this weekend, but Mr. Frost beat me to the punch. “we have somewhere to be at 8 saturday, so ask your mom if she can watch blondie.”

I was excited about the date, and the fact I had no idea where we were going. The evening was a successful string of spontaneous destinations, a Christmas choir (see precious entry), dinner, ice cream, beers and a little TV. A perfectly wonderful evening. I really had a good time.

So I was really confused about what I wanted to do. It was time to at least ask him, and I was surprised by his answer.

I knew he’d been alone a long time, and when we went our separate ways before, he seemed very hurt by the situation. One I still regret.
He said he was kind of in the same boat as me…floating down the river of “I’m not sure I want to be in a relationship” nut enjoyed having me in the boat next to him. In his mind, any realistic role of a girlfriend was already filled by me, and honestly it would be fair to say that of him. I don’t talk to anyone else and spend most of my free time with him.
I was a little disappointed, though. I think I kind of wanted to hear that he wanted me for himself. But then i thought what was so “wrong” with just enjoying this boat ride? I like him. He likes me. We get along and have fun. Why does anything need to be changed? Wouldn’t we still be happy like this?

And why was I in such a rush to move things along? It’s been three months! Most people can’t decide what they want for Christmas in three months, let alone decide how they feel about possibly dating someone.
Am I that much of an emotional whore I want to just rush right in? As Elvis said, only fools do that.

So I suppose status quo, it is. But I’m not unhappy about that. Fruit ripens when conditions are right, not when we’re hungry for a bite.

Messiah: bring yo tissues

Mr. Frost surprised me with a trip to see Messiah, the most somber Christmas celebration in history. I was sad watching it, not even knowing what they were saying in ANY of the musical numbers; I know a story is being told, but since they’re singing, it’s incomprehensible.
I just couldn’t help it, I felt upset. Like it was a sad storyline.
The choir sounded beautiful, though. And my man Mark Stoneman rocked his solo.
But I was a little distracted by the single red dressed woman in the sea of black and white ensembles. Frost and I were dying to know what happened to her in her child hood to warrant this type of attention seeking.
I was more intrigued by the skeleton in an oversized blazer next to the lady in the red dress. She seemed to encompass the overall feeling of the performance, sad and lacking something (other than a healthy diet).
It was good to have the perfect partner for the show, however.

When you want everything, you get nothing.

I just hate wanting someone to only want me when I’m not even sure what I want.

I hate myself sometimes when I think about how I treat men and what I expect of them.

It's my way or the esophagus.

It’s my way or the esophagus.

Perfectly wonderful person in my life at the moment who would likely do anything for me. I didn’t want a relationship, and I don’t know if I still do. Not because of who he is… he’s great. I just didn’t know if I could handle jumping from one love lily to another. And I wanted to be fair to such a pure-hearted individual. I told him the truth, and he still embraced me and let me rest my weary heart in his jelly bed.
I honestly believe I may have hurt him when I went back to Chris. We weren’t dating or anything, but it felt like I had to break up with the guy.
For days, I could hear the devastation in his text messages.
How dare I even think I deserved a spot back in those arms?
Whether I did or not, he gave it to me.
For weeks now, I’ve spent a lot of time with him. He understands my child is the number one love of my life, and just goes with it. My son loves being around him, and I can understand why. He’s kind and giving and smart and funny and has lived an interesting life. I enjoy his company immensely.
But he doesn’t belong to me.
It was my idea to not enter a relationship. I was the one who pushed him away. The truth was every time I touched him, or kissed him, I thought of Chris.
sleeping alone sucks. Period.

sleeping alone sucks. Period.

That has faded dramatically.
Over the last few weeks, all that really remains is a bit of anger about how I was treated and the overall sadness that I believed my happy ending was finally in the works. It just hurts to know the plan has been abandoned.
That’s why I didn’t want to get to close to anyone else, especially so soon. How would that be fair to a person who wants a girlfriend.
But it sure feels like that’s what I am.
We spend many a night together, sometimes with my boy. We shop at WalMart together. I kidnap him on a regular basis, and he doesn’t let his frustration seep out. Seriously, diaper shopping and not a sideways look?
The point is within the last 96 hours, I’ve started to realize that while I’ve always liked this person, I might need him in my life a little more than I thought. Nights without him are lame. I’m starting to get upset when I can’t just see him anytime I want, or if he’s busy with friends.
But what do I expect? I laid down the ground rules of no relationship, no girlfriend, and feel free to talk to anyone else that comes along. The only must was honesty.
Well, in the spirit of being honest, I’ve actually reached the point that thinking of him chatting up other chicks bothers me. The guy didn’t do anything wrong, but I guess I didn’t realize he checked his online dating profiles regularly. I have no desire to really meet anyone else right now; I’m perfectly happy enjoying his company. But that’s not what I told him. I told him to spend what time he wanted with me and do what he likes otherwise. Now I can’t help but feel that time with me isn’t enough.
So, like the insecure female I am, I put my investigative reporting skills to work and found out in the last few weeks, he’s found himself quite bored and is looking for social interaction online. I thought our textys would suffice.
There's nothing better than that smile when you get a text from someone special

There’s nothing better than that smile when you get a text from someone special

Maybe I’m just a way to pass the time. Maybe he thinks there’s no chance of anything real ever happening here. maybe he just likes my company but doesn’t think of me beyond that capacity. Or, he is a guy, maybe he’s just playing the field.
I just hate wanting someone to only want me when I’m not even sure what I want. I guess I just answered my own question.
Another mistake? Sure I'll give it a go!

Another mistake? Sure let me let this one get away!

Oh yeah. Instead of Afghanistan stealing this one away, I can thank Germany.