First and foremost, I hope everyone had a wonderful, magical, happy, beautiful Christmas!
Okay, I have a few Christmas confessions I must address (does that sound serious and morbid? Oops.):
1. Warm the ears and eyes: I start listening to Christmas music and watching Christmas movies on November 1st and carry on through January 1st, with a sprinkling throughout the year (sometimes we need that Christmas feeling in the middle of July, right?). I actually keep a Christmas CD in the stereo all year long. *blushes*
2. Cry baby: I cry when Christmas is over (in private; definitely do not want any witnesses to my emotional stupidity). Every year, tears. I love it THAT much. This year was no exception, I'm afraid.
3. Time to indulge: Soda, cookies, cake...you name it. It's all good Christmas through New Year's Day. No rules, no guilt.
4. Great buyer, bad wrapper: I get all of my Christmas shopping done way in advance, BUT I always save the wrapping for the last minute. Very bad, I know. I'm just a wretched wrapper and dread it every year.
5. Bows, bows, bows! As much as I loathe wrapping, I love doing bows. Guess you could say I'm more for accessorizing the gifts. With my love of Marc Jacobs' handbags, it only follows that I would be all about the accessories.
6. Santa: Sometimes I miss sitting on Santa's lap. Y'all get your minds outta the gutter--I'm not that hard up, contrary to popular opinion.You remember the days--he ho, ho, ho's, you totally think he's the real deal or at least one of Santa's helpers, you tell him what you want, and get a picture with a candy cane. Good times.
7. Sending Christmas Wishes: Totally believe in wishing EVERYONE a Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and everything in between.
8. The White Christmas Gown: Yeah, I want to wear Rosemary Clooney's gown from the end scene of White Christmas. It's so elegant and...flow-y. I want to twirl in it. I'm such a dork.
9. The Bing Factor: Um, I have a crush on Bing Crosby. There, I said it. When he sings, I melt. Yep, a little "Snow" or "White Christmas" and I kinda wanna boink Bing. **Sorry, it's just boink sounded so funny with Bing. In reality, I think he's dreamy. Did I just say dreamy?
Some of my very favorite music comes from the movie White Christmas: Snow, Love-You Didn't Do Right By Me, and, of course, White Christmas. :)
Tuesday, December 28, 2010
Thursday, December 23, 2010
My Christmas Present To You
Considering my mom has always called me an Elizabeth Bennet, you have to know my gift to you is simple, yet complex, and oh-so-dreamy.
As Lizzie says, " I am determined that nothing but the deepest love could ever induce me into matrimony."
Yes, I do live by this statement, even if it means I'll end up an old maid.
To all of us silly single girls who still believe that true love does, in fact, exist in this rather cynical world, and who have to deal with people constantly telling us how foolish and idealistic we are for daring to hope, I give you Mr. Darcy...all versions. (To the married ladies--you can't go wrong with a little Mr. Darcy, right? ;)).
May we all find our own very special version of Mr. Darcy in this New Year.
I love you all--thank you for your unwavering support...I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me.
Much love to you all, single, married, and everything in between!
As Lizzie says, " I am determined that nothing but the deepest love could ever induce me into matrimony."
Yes, I do live by this statement, even if it means I'll end up an old maid.
To all of us silly single girls who still believe that true love does, in fact, exist in this rather cynical world, and who have to deal with people constantly telling us how foolish and idealistic we are for daring to hope, I give you Mr. Darcy...all versions. (To the married ladies--you can't go wrong with a little Mr. Darcy, right? ;)).
May we all find our own very special version of Mr. Darcy in this New Year.
I love you all--thank you for your unwavering support...I can't begin to tell you how much it means to me.
Much love to you all, single, married, and everything in between!
Wednesday, December 22, 2010
Christmas Shopping With Mom
Christmas shopping is always an adventure, but when it's with my mama, the adventure morphs into some odd slapstick sitcom.
First Stop: Target for more wrapping paper, ribbon, and tape.
Me: "Mom, are you sure you need more wrapping paper?" I had to double check. Mom has a tendency to overdo.
Mom: "Oh, yes. I had a few very minor mishaps with some packages."
Me, perplexed: "Mishaps?"
Mom: "Oh, you know, the paper would start to rip, I'd get ticked, call it an a-hole, rip the paper off, and have to start over. And, of course, I was annoyed at having to start over, so when I'd pull a new piece off the roll, it would get all funky and I'd need another new piece, so...definitely yes to paper. Ah, here we go! I'll get the paper, you grab some tape and ribbon."
Me, laughing at the mental image of her wildly ripping unruly paper from the packages while calling each piece an a-hole: "So I'm thinking a triple pack of tape, then?"
Mom: "You are thinking right. Be back."
After grabbing the tape and some pretty ribbon, I turned to see my mom shuffling towards me under the weight of what could very possibly be the largest two rolls of wrapping paper I have ever seen.
Mom: "Look! Jumbo rolls! Plenty for me to royally mess up!"
Me, running for her: "Mom, you really shouldn't be carrying those! Here, give them to me."
Mom: "Nonsense, honey, I'm perfectly capable. Just need to get them in the basket. Where is that basket? Oh, there it is!"
While I was still mid-run to help her (she really shouldn't be carrying heavy things), she swiftly turned to put them in the basket and...
WHACK! The two rolls smacked me in the side of the head. Insert hysterical laughter by a mom and her daughter while everyone around us thought we were crazy.
Second Stop: Craft Store for yarn and other miscellaneous items for Mom.
Mom: "Ooh! I forgot a basket. Quick! Go back through the doors before they close!"
Me: "My luck they'll close ON me. I'll just go around the proper way."
Mom, very cheerleader-like: "You can make it! Go! Go!"
Me, already walking around to the other side: "Not gonna try it. Do we need reminding of what happened the last time I tried this very same thing?" We won't go there.
Mom: "Good point."
Me: "Oh! Here's one right here!"
Mom: "Great! Grab that one! I'll be in wreaths."
Of course, the basket had to be caught on a bunch of tray-like things that I didn't see when I attempted to move the thing. CRASH. All the trays went sliding down in front of the basket and across the walkway. I just rolled me eyes, made a face, grumbled a bit, laughed a little, and started stacking the trays back in place. Thank goodness they weren't glass or something. One girl was sympathetically grinning with her mom over by the cash register.
Me, heading for wreaths: "Um...Mom...whatchya got there?"
Mom, holding a GIANT wreath: "Isn't it gorgeous! I've always wanted one that looks just like this! Will it fit in the basket?"
Me, smiling: "Not easily, but we'll find a way." Dad has always said that Mama has a tendency to find and buy the things bigger than Texas hair.
Mom: "I don't want it to smoosh!" Suddenly, a large silver ornament fell off. "OH! MY BALL!"
Oh Lord. People peered around the corner, started snickering from nearby aisles, etc.After fixing the ball, my mom decided she needed yarn and I needed some art pens, so we split up. BAD IDEA.
I lost her. One missing mom in aisle five!
She wasn't in yarn or in any of her usual craft store haunts. Just before a slight case of panic set in, I heard, "HONEY! LOOK! I FOUND A PAN TO COOK BUTT CAKES!"
Yes. Butt cakes. She meant bundt cakes. She had a mouth fart and totally misspoke. More hysterics ensued as I tried, through belly-laughs, to maneuver the crowded aisles to reach her.
Me, laughing: "Exactly where is your mind today? Balls and butts?!"
Mom: "Obviously that's one I don't need to answer. I didn't even know my mind was there! And the whole store knows now. Let's get outta here before my face turns any redder."
Third Stop: God Help Me. Baby Clothing Store.
Mom: "I just have to pick up a little sweater or something along those lines. We'll get in and out in less than a minute, okay?"
Me: "I'm fine, take your time." I lied. Things I'll do for my mom. She loves baby clothes. Sigh.
Store lady approaching. Oh Lord.
Store lady: "Can I help you with anything?"
Mom: "I'm just looking for a little green or red sweater to match an outfit from the ______ line."
Yeah, sorry, I don't remember the specific line or theme of clothing Mom mentioned.
Store lady: "Of course. Darling line, isn't it? Right over here. So, is this for your granddaughter?"
Here we go!
Mom: "No, no. I'm not a gran yet."
Me, in an effort to preempt the questions: "I do hope to make my mama a rockin' granny one day."
Store lady: "Oh, well, not too soon I hope! You're far too young!"
OH HOLY MOTHER OF RUDOLPH.
Mom: "I think her age might surprise you." No, Mom, no, no, no, no, no! "She's 32." Oh, bloody hell, Mom!
Store lady: "Really?! Wouldn't have thought that! Wow, well, you know, women are having babies later and later in life these days. It's nothing to worry about. And who knows, it's Christmas...maybe your boyfriend will pop the question."
Why does everyone assume I have a boyfriend? Is it the age? If you're 30+ you MUST AT LEAST have a boyfriend? Ugh.
Me: "I don't have a boyfriend, actually."
Store lady: "Oh, well, I'm sure you'll meet him soon."
Her words said hope, but her tone screamed, oh you poor thing.
Mom to the rescue, in her southern drawl: "To tell you the truth, I might want to be a hip granny, but I want my daughter to be happy even more. I don't want her to settle for something because she thinks she should, or it's what everyone else is doing, or she thinks it would make me happy. It's a changed world out there. She's always marched to the beat of her own drum, and I wouldn't have it any other way. He'll come along when he's meant to...and he better deserve this one because he'll be getting a treasure."
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I LOVE my mama.
Store lady, smiling warmly: "Your mom is right. Wait for the right guy. I didn't the first go around and it didn't work out."
I survived the baby clothing store: The store lady was left with a smile, Mama left with a sweater, and I left with my pride (and uterus) still intact.
First Stop: Target for more wrapping paper, ribbon, and tape.
Me: "Mom, are you sure you need more wrapping paper?" I had to double check. Mom has a tendency to overdo.
Mom: "Oh, yes. I had a few very minor mishaps with some packages."
Me, perplexed: "Mishaps?"
Mom: "Oh, you know, the paper would start to rip, I'd get ticked, call it an a-hole, rip the paper off, and have to start over. And, of course, I was annoyed at having to start over, so when I'd pull a new piece off the roll, it would get all funky and I'd need another new piece, so...definitely yes to paper. Ah, here we go! I'll get the paper, you grab some tape and ribbon."
Me, laughing at the mental image of her wildly ripping unruly paper from the packages while calling each piece an a-hole: "So I'm thinking a triple pack of tape, then?"
Mom: "You are thinking right. Be back."
After grabbing the tape and some pretty ribbon, I turned to see my mom shuffling towards me under the weight of what could very possibly be the largest two rolls of wrapping paper I have ever seen.
Mom: "Look! Jumbo rolls! Plenty for me to royally mess up!"
Me, running for her: "Mom, you really shouldn't be carrying those! Here, give them to me."
Mom: "Nonsense, honey, I'm perfectly capable. Just need to get them in the basket. Where is that basket? Oh, there it is!"
While I was still mid-run to help her (she really shouldn't be carrying heavy things), she swiftly turned to put them in the basket and...
WHACK! The two rolls smacked me in the side of the head. Insert hysterical laughter by a mom and her daughter while everyone around us thought we were crazy.
Second Stop: Craft Store for yarn and other miscellaneous items for Mom.
Mom: "Ooh! I forgot a basket. Quick! Go back through the doors before they close!"
Me: "My luck they'll close ON me. I'll just go around the proper way."
Mom, very cheerleader-like: "You can make it! Go! Go!"
Me, already walking around to the other side: "Not gonna try it. Do we need reminding of what happened the last time I tried this very same thing?" We won't go there.
Mom: "Good point."
Me: "Oh! Here's one right here!"
Mom: "Great! Grab that one! I'll be in wreaths."
Of course, the basket had to be caught on a bunch of tray-like things that I didn't see when I attempted to move the thing. CRASH. All the trays went sliding down in front of the basket and across the walkway. I just rolled me eyes, made a face, grumbled a bit, laughed a little, and started stacking the trays back in place. Thank goodness they weren't glass or something. One girl was sympathetically grinning with her mom over by the cash register.
Me, heading for wreaths: "Um...Mom...whatchya got there?"
Mom, holding a GIANT wreath: "Isn't it gorgeous! I've always wanted one that looks just like this! Will it fit in the basket?"
Me, smiling: "Not easily, but we'll find a way." Dad has always said that Mama has a tendency to find and buy the things bigger than Texas hair.
Mom: "I don't want it to smoosh!" Suddenly, a large silver ornament fell off. "OH! MY BALL!"
Oh Lord. People peered around the corner, started snickering from nearby aisles, etc.After fixing the ball, my mom decided she needed yarn and I needed some art pens, so we split up. BAD IDEA.
I lost her. One missing mom in aisle five!
She wasn't in yarn or in any of her usual craft store haunts. Just before a slight case of panic set in, I heard, "HONEY! LOOK! I FOUND A PAN TO COOK BUTT CAKES!"
Yes. Butt cakes. She meant bundt cakes. She had a mouth fart and totally misspoke. More hysterics ensued as I tried, through belly-laughs, to maneuver the crowded aisles to reach her.
Me, laughing: "Exactly where is your mind today? Balls and butts?!"
Mom: "Obviously that's one I don't need to answer. I didn't even know my mind was there! And the whole store knows now. Let's get outta here before my face turns any redder."
Third Stop: God Help Me. Baby Clothing Store.
Mom: "I just have to pick up a little sweater or something along those lines. We'll get in and out in less than a minute, okay?"
Me: "I'm fine, take your time." I lied. Things I'll do for my mom. She loves baby clothes. Sigh.
Store lady approaching. Oh Lord.
Store lady: "Can I help you with anything?"
Mom: "I'm just looking for a little green or red sweater to match an outfit from the ______ line."
Yeah, sorry, I don't remember the specific line or theme of clothing Mom mentioned.
Store lady: "Of course. Darling line, isn't it? Right over here. So, is this for your granddaughter?"
Here we go!
Mom: "No, no. I'm not a gran yet."
Me, in an effort to preempt the questions: "I do hope to make my mama a rockin' granny one day."
Store lady: "Oh, well, not too soon I hope! You're far too young!"
OH HOLY MOTHER OF RUDOLPH.
Mom: "I think her age might surprise you." No, Mom, no, no, no, no, no! "She's 32." Oh, bloody hell, Mom!
Store lady: "Really?! Wouldn't have thought that! Wow, well, you know, women are having babies later and later in life these days. It's nothing to worry about. And who knows, it's Christmas...maybe your boyfriend will pop the question."
Why does everyone assume I have a boyfriend? Is it the age? If you're 30+ you MUST AT LEAST have a boyfriend? Ugh.
Me: "I don't have a boyfriend, actually."
Store lady: "Oh, well, I'm sure you'll meet him soon."
Her words said hope, but her tone screamed, oh you poor thing.
Mom to the rescue, in her southern drawl: "To tell you the truth, I might want to be a hip granny, but I want my daughter to be happy even more. I don't want her to settle for something because she thinks she should, or it's what everyone else is doing, or she thinks it would make me happy. It's a changed world out there. She's always marched to the beat of her own drum, and I wouldn't have it any other way. He'll come along when he's meant to...and he better deserve this one because he'll be getting a treasure."
I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I LOVE my mama.
Store lady, smiling warmly: "Your mom is right. Wait for the right guy. I didn't the first go around and it didn't work out."
I survived the baby clothing store: The store lady was left with a smile, Mama left with a sweater, and I left with my pride (and uterus) still intact.
Monday, December 20, 2010
My Ovaries Are Deadly Weapons...Apparently.
Wake-up: Huh? Is it already morning? Given the sun in my eyes, I'm assuming it is. Ick. Bad night. Little sleep. Crap dreams: Death Eaters (yes, of the Harry Potter variety) were after me; I didn't have a wand, so I threatened to smite them with my ovaries. Indeed. I told them my ovaries "...bite and are pissed at still being there, alone, unfertilized." I was saying this while flying backwards on a broom.
Truly, deeply troubling.
What's more troubling is how I intended to "smite" them with said ovaries. Cringe. Mustn't think on it.
Should have known this would be a rough one from the second my toes touched the floor. Been moving furniture about my room--not an easy task when single, but I was determined. Moved my desk out and over about 1/2 inch. My newly painted big toe naturally found it. Hurt like hell. Chipped nail, very red, and, ah, of course it would start swelling a bit. Terrific. Now have Quasimodo toe.
Shower: While shaving, my razor apparently needed to shave my left middle fingernail. Fantastic. Now have strangely misshapen fingernail in manner of Phantom of the Opera's mask.
Quasimodo toe and Phantom bird finger. There are no words.
Lunch: No soda. Excellent. Replaced with water...boring, but healthy. Grilled chicken Caesar salad...and chocolate covered Christmas cookies.
Afternoon: Hmm, interesting news. According to Mutual Acquaintance, Mr. Bo Tangles is a little annoyed I didn't give in. In fact, according to Mutual Acquaintance, he said, "I couldn't get in." Ewwy. Am now an inanimate object...like a car with the keys locked inside. Yes, just the kind of man I'm looking for! Right.
Evening: Must wrap presents. Seriously. I love doing the bows, but the actual wrapping-paper-part is so not my thing.
My Dallas Mavericks are making me nervous...PLEASE WIN!!!!! OH GOD HELP ME...MARION MISSED A FREE THROW!!!!!
19.4 seconds remaining...12.9 seconds...Dirk makes his free throws...6.9 seconds...5.9...Dirk made his shots...OVER! MAVS WIN!!!! Great game!!! 'Nother tough road game coming up.
Phew.
Overall, the most intriguing part of my day was recalling my dream--me, on a broom, locked and loaded with my smite-able ovaries. Maybe I could be a new superhero...Ovary Girl! Maybe not.
Truly, deeply troubling.
What's more troubling is how I intended to "smite" them with said ovaries. Cringe. Mustn't think on it.
Should have known this would be a rough one from the second my toes touched the floor. Been moving furniture about my room--not an easy task when single, but I was determined. Moved my desk out and over about 1/2 inch. My newly painted big toe naturally found it. Hurt like hell. Chipped nail, very red, and, ah, of course it would start swelling a bit. Terrific. Now have Quasimodo toe.
Shower: While shaving, my razor apparently needed to shave my left middle fingernail. Fantastic. Now have strangely misshapen fingernail in manner of Phantom of the Opera's mask.
Quasimodo toe and Phantom bird finger. There are no words.
Lunch: No soda. Excellent. Replaced with water...boring, but healthy. Grilled chicken Caesar salad...and chocolate covered Christmas cookies.
Afternoon: Hmm, interesting news. According to Mutual Acquaintance, Mr. Bo Tangles is a little annoyed I didn't give in. In fact, according to Mutual Acquaintance, he said, "I couldn't get in." Ewwy. Am now an inanimate object...like a car with the keys locked inside. Yes, just the kind of man I'm looking for! Right.
Evening: Must wrap presents. Seriously. I love doing the bows, but the actual wrapping-paper-part is so not my thing.
My Dallas Mavericks are making me nervous...PLEASE WIN!!!!! OH GOD HELP ME...MARION MISSED A FREE THROW!!!!!
19.4 seconds remaining...12.9 seconds...Dirk makes his free throws...6.9 seconds...5.9...Dirk made his shots...OVER! MAVS WIN!!!! Great game!!! 'Nother tough road game coming up.
Phew.
Overall, the most intriguing part of my day was recalling my dream--me, on a broom, locked and loaded with my smite-able ovaries. Maybe I could be a new superhero...Ovary Girl! Maybe not.
A Word On Dreams And Other Lovely Intangibles
What the realist says: Dreams are for fools who can't face reality. Dreams will never come to fruition. Dreams are unrealistic.
I could counter this rather gloomy way of thinking, but I won't. I'll simply say one thing, then let my favorite Christmas movie say the rest. It's Christmas, the season of perpetual hope...a time to believe in the unbelievable...a time to remind ourselves that dreams do come true.
From the original Miracle on 34th Street:
Mr. Gailey: ...."Faith is believing in things when common sense tells you not to. It's not just Kris that's on trial. It's everything he stands for. It's kindness, joy, love and all other intangibles."
Doris: "Fred, you're talking like a child...
"...those lovely intangibles aren't worth much..."
"...we've talked about wonderful plans, then you go on an idealistic binge."
Mr. Gailey: ..."Someday you're going to find out that your way of facing this realistic world just doesn't work. And when you do, don't overlook those lovely intangibles. You'll discover they're the only things that are worthwhile."
In the end, even the common sense-minded Doris realizes the importance of believing.
From the 1994 Miracle on 34th street:
Kris Kringle: "I'm not just a whimsical figure who wears a charming suit and affects a jolly demeanor...I'm a symbol of the human ability to be able to suppress the selfish and hateful tendencies that rule the major part of our lives. If you can't believe, if you can't accept anything on faith, then you're doomed for a life dominated by doubt."
As for me, I think I'll keep believing. I hope you will too.
Miracles happen...if you believe.
I could counter this rather gloomy way of thinking, but I won't. I'll simply say one thing, then let my favorite Christmas movie say the rest. It's Christmas, the season of perpetual hope...a time to believe in the unbelievable...a time to remind ourselves that dreams do come true.
From the original Miracle on 34th Street:
Mr. Gailey: ...."Faith is believing in things when common sense tells you not to. It's not just Kris that's on trial. It's everything he stands for. It's kindness, joy, love and all other intangibles."
Doris: "Fred, you're talking like a child...
"...those lovely intangibles aren't worth much..."
"...we've talked about wonderful plans, then you go on an idealistic binge."
Mr. Gailey: ..."Someday you're going to find out that your way of facing this realistic world just doesn't work. And when you do, don't overlook those lovely intangibles. You'll discover they're the only things that are worthwhile."
In the end, even the common sense-minded Doris realizes the importance of believing.
From the 1994 Miracle on 34th street:
Kris Kringle: "I'm not just a whimsical figure who wears a charming suit and affects a jolly demeanor...I'm a symbol of the human ability to be able to suppress the selfish and hateful tendencies that rule the major part of our lives. If you can't believe, if you can't accept anything on faith, then you're doomed for a life dominated by doubt."
As for me, I think I'll keep believing. I hope you will too.
Miracles happen...if you believe.
Friday, December 17, 2010
Reason For The Previous Post...
Okay, so, I wrote the last post at an unholy hour. Couldn't sleep.
Let me make a couple clarifications:
1. The idea of perfection wasn't even on my mind when I wrote the post. I'm a little sensitive to the whole "seeking perfection" thing and here's why: when I've told friends that I simply want to find a man who tells the truth, a man I can trust without reservation, a man who will love unconditionally, they tell me I'm "seeking perfection" and I need to lower my standards. So, I should either compromise on trust, give up on honesty, or wave bye-bye to true love? Friends say you can't have them all.
Since when did the expectation or hope for trust, honesty, and love equal seeking some nonexistent creature of this fictitious notion called perfection? I mean, those things are the cornerstones of basic human decency. That's what the song is about--trust, honesty, love--principles we are taught at a very young age. If our world has become so jaded that even the purest of concepts have transformed into some imaginary being, then I want no part of what's out there.
2. Mr. Bo Tangles contributed in part to the last post. There is no real way to lean into this rather harsh statement, other than just tossing it out there...
"I didn't mean to scare you away. I understand how you must be very delicate. But, you should know...if you are waiting for a man who is going to wait for you because he loves you, it's not going to happen. All the man wants to do is be the one to get you into bed. He may say he loves you, but you won't really know until after you've had sex. If he sticks around, then he might be contemplating love. If not, then he doesn't. The world revolves around sex. You want to find your soul mate? Sleep around."
This, for the most part, is what got me thinking late into the night. Then, of course, I popped in one of my Keith Urban CDs and heard this song; it had been such a long time since I heard it and the words got to me.
So, there it is--nothing to do with perfection...everything to do with being a decent person.
Let me make a couple clarifications:
1. The idea of perfection wasn't even on my mind when I wrote the post. I'm a little sensitive to the whole "seeking perfection" thing and here's why: when I've told friends that I simply want to find a man who tells the truth, a man I can trust without reservation, a man who will love unconditionally, they tell me I'm "seeking perfection" and I need to lower my standards. So, I should either compromise on trust, give up on honesty, or wave bye-bye to true love? Friends say you can't have them all.
Since when did the expectation or hope for trust, honesty, and love equal seeking some nonexistent creature of this fictitious notion called perfection? I mean, those things are the cornerstones of basic human decency. That's what the song is about--trust, honesty, love--principles we are taught at a very young age. If our world has become so jaded that even the purest of concepts have transformed into some imaginary being, then I want no part of what's out there.
2. Mr. Bo Tangles contributed in part to the last post. There is no real way to lean into this rather harsh statement, other than just tossing it out there...
"I didn't mean to scare you away. I understand how you must be very delicate. But, you should know...if you are waiting for a man who is going to wait for you because he loves you, it's not going to happen. All the man wants to do is be the one to get you into bed. He may say he loves you, but you won't really know until after you've had sex. If he sticks around, then he might be contemplating love. If not, then he doesn't. The world revolves around sex. You want to find your soul mate? Sleep around."
This, for the most part, is what got me thinking late into the night. Then, of course, I popped in one of my Keith Urban CDs and heard this song; it had been such a long time since I heard it and the words got to me.
So, there it is--nothing to do with perfection...everything to do with being a decent person.
Is THIS Really, Truly Possible?
Could a man this passionate--with this much heart--really exist in our big old world? Can a man really feel the emotions conveyed in this song? Or are these songs so successful because it is what we want, but will never experience?
Hmm, those questions smell strongly of cynicism, I'm afraid. That's not good.
I believe true love exists. Honestly. I'm just not so naive to think it happens for everyone. It doesn't. That's the cold, hard truth.
Oh, I keep-on-keepin'-on and hold tightly to that little thing called hope (fate and I have our issues). But, after Mr. Bo Tangles, as well as recent stories coming from friends about their love lives, I can't stop the doubt from creeping into my mind.
This song represents the kind of love I'm so hoping for...the kind my heart longs to find its home with. But with eligible bachelors like Mr. Bo Tangles on the loose, my heart grows weary and somewhat gag-ish...if that is even possible...which I tend to think it is...at times anyway...like when your date finds one windblown strand of hair utterly offensive or spits his half-chewed food up on the table.
Give a listen to a truly beautiful song. Aren't we all looking for this? But is it a beautiful illusion or a scarce reality?
Assuming it does exist and there is simply a shortage on love like this, how on earth do we ever, ever expect to find it?
Have a tissue ready. I always get a little misty eyed when I hear it.
*Note: Apologies if there is a brief advertisement before the video
Hmm, those questions smell strongly of cynicism, I'm afraid. That's not good.
I believe true love exists. Honestly. I'm just not so naive to think it happens for everyone. It doesn't. That's the cold, hard truth.
Oh, I keep-on-keepin'-on and hold tightly to that little thing called hope (fate and I have our issues). But, after Mr. Bo Tangles, as well as recent stories coming from friends about their love lives, I can't stop the doubt from creeping into my mind.
This song represents the kind of love I'm so hoping for...the kind my heart longs to find its home with. But with eligible bachelors like Mr. Bo Tangles on the loose, my heart grows weary and somewhat gag-ish...if that is even possible...which I tend to think it is...at times anyway...like when your date finds one windblown strand of hair utterly offensive or spits his half-chewed food up on the table.
Give a listen to a truly beautiful song. Aren't we all looking for this? But is it a beautiful illusion or a scarce reality?
Assuming it does exist and there is simply a shortage on love like this, how on earth do we ever, ever expect to find it?
Have a tissue ready. I always get a little misty eyed when I hear it.
*Note: Apologies if there is a brief advertisement before the video
Thursday, December 16, 2010
I Like A Guy That Can Cut Loose
Sticks in the mud need not apply.
I like a guy who can be a big kid and just cut loose...or cut a rug...
...kinda like this.
Happy Dance
Oh, and you're welcome, ladies.
I like a guy who can be a big kid and just cut loose...or cut a rug...
...kinda like this.
Happy Dance
Oh, and you're welcome, ladies.
Wednesday, December 15, 2010
Why Wednesday: Why Not Drag Him Along Through The Holidays?
Must make certain I get the quote exactly as presented to me:
Self-proclaimed guru on "hooking" men said: "You know, you could just let a guy think he's going to get some. Just for the holidays. Why not, you know? Just keep putting it off. At least you could say you had someone for Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve, and Valentine's Day."
Now, this suggestion came in two variations:
Tell him up front about my virginity (because he will understand the need to give me time and his inner ego will still desire to "deflower" the virgin)
OR
Keep it a secret for a time, continue to tell him I'm not ready, and when he looks like he's going to bail, then tell him. According to the self-proclaimed guru, this method will keep him on the hook for at least another month (apparently, he will still have hope of "nailing the virgin.").
Um...I may be wrong, but isn't this the very definition of "prick tease?" Yeah, I don't do that.
And why is it so catastrophic for a girl (or guy) to be single for the holidays? I'm not saying it's easy, but it's not the end of the world.
Thanksgiving = family, food, and football. (and the parade)
Christmas = spending time with family, decorating, reliving holiday memories, eating loads of pastries, watching holiday classics, listening to merry music. Oh, and the gifts...even if they are from you to you. Notice I list gifts last...honestly, I'd be just as happy on that day if there were no presents at all.
New Year's Eve = admittedly, it sucks to be single on NYE. I always find something to do, whether it's to watch a marathon of my very favorite shows or movies or just hanging with the family. I never go out unless I have a date--blame the kiss-at-midnight-thing.
Vomit, er, Valentine's Day = I have absolutely no use for it. Why do we need a day to tell someone how much we care? Shouldn't that be an everyday-kind-of thing? My tradition? I treat myself to something I absolutely love. Basically, I have declared February 14th a "me day."
So, yes, I'd love to have someone during the major holidays, but I'm not crying in my eggnog. And I'm certainly not going to be some tart and tease a man just to say I had someone on said holidays--that's just plain rude, not to mention lame.
Self-proclaimed guru on "hooking" men said: "You know, you could just let a guy think he's going to get some. Just for the holidays. Why not, you know? Just keep putting it off. At least you could say you had someone for Thanksgiving, Christmas, New Year's Eve, and Valentine's Day."
Now, this suggestion came in two variations:
Tell him up front about my virginity (because he will understand the need to give me time and his inner ego will still desire to "deflower" the virgin)
OR
Keep it a secret for a time, continue to tell him I'm not ready, and when he looks like he's going to bail, then tell him. According to the self-proclaimed guru, this method will keep him on the hook for at least another month (apparently, he will still have hope of "nailing the virgin.").
Um...I may be wrong, but isn't this the very definition of "prick tease?" Yeah, I don't do that.
And why is it so catastrophic for a girl (or guy) to be single for the holidays? I'm not saying it's easy, but it's not the end of the world.
Thanksgiving = family, food, and football. (and the parade)
Christmas = spending time with family, decorating, reliving holiday memories, eating loads of pastries, watching holiday classics, listening to merry music. Oh, and the gifts...even if they are from you to you. Notice I list gifts last...honestly, I'd be just as happy on that day if there were no presents at all.
New Year's Eve = admittedly, it sucks to be single on NYE. I always find something to do, whether it's to watch a marathon of my very favorite shows or movies or just hanging with the family. I never go out unless I have a date--blame the kiss-at-midnight-thing.
Vomit, er, Valentine's Day = I have absolutely no use for it. Why do we need a day to tell someone how much we care? Shouldn't that be an everyday-kind-of thing? My tradition? I treat myself to something I absolutely love. Basically, I have declared February 14th a "me day."
So, yes, I'd love to have someone during the major holidays, but I'm not crying in my eggnog. And I'm certainly not going to be some tart and tease a man just to say I had someone on said holidays--that's just plain rude, not to mention lame.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Just Get Jolly and Dance
So, okay, I heard this new Christmas song by Mariah Carey and had to share--it's fun, upbeat, and I seriously can't help but wanna dance, tap the foot, snap the fingers, bob the head, shake the booty...whatever. It's just cute.
Love the line about the new girlfriend being "so weak." Funny and cute.
Anyway, check out Oh Santa! by Mariah Carey--very festive and fun.
I'm way too jolly right now...must cut back on the sugar.
Love the line about the new girlfriend being "so weak." Funny and cute.
Anyway, check out Oh Santa! by Mariah Carey--very festive and fun.
I'm way too jolly right now...must cut back on the sugar.
Cookie Confidential
I'm a holiday nut--I love everything about the holidays, from the music to the movies and everything in between.
I've pretty much been in the Christmas spirit since Halloween. But, last night, something happened. Out of nowhere, I felt giddy. Yes, I said giddy.
Said giddiness was followed by several instances of spontaneous giggling. It was quite alarming, but undeniably enjoyable.
I've lost some pretty decent poundage recently. Heck, even my skinny-can't-miss-the-tush jeans are a little roomy. Reckon it's due to all the stress and worry about my mom. So, at 2:00 a.m., I decided to work on getting those pounds back...in the form of Christmas cookies.
I indulged in 2 frosted sugar cookies, 1 little iced star cookie, and 1 reddish-pink, chocolate-filled leaf-shaped cookie.
Gawd, they were so good...until...
...major stomach issues. I honestly didn't think 4 little 'ole cookies would upset my tummy, but Mama always taught me to never eat sweets late at night or on an empty stomach. Did I listen? Nah. It's Christmas, I'm giddy, giggly, and single, and I'm gonna eat cookies like Santa. My brilliant giddiness lead to the next phase of the early morning hours...
...a new indulgence involving a Dramamine and Pepto Bismol.
Still, I don't regret it...the cookies were so yummy! Next time, I'll make sure I eat them after a proper meal. Live and learn, right?
Jingle Bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way....la la la la la la la...
I've pretty much been in the Christmas spirit since Halloween. But, last night, something happened. Out of nowhere, I felt giddy. Yes, I said giddy.
Said giddiness was followed by several instances of spontaneous giggling. It was quite alarming, but undeniably enjoyable.
I've lost some pretty decent poundage recently. Heck, even my skinny-can't-miss-the-tush jeans are a little roomy. Reckon it's due to all the stress and worry about my mom. So, at 2:00 a.m., I decided to work on getting those pounds back...in the form of Christmas cookies.
I indulged in 2 frosted sugar cookies, 1 little iced star cookie, and 1 reddish-pink, chocolate-filled leaf-shaped cookie.
Gawd, they were so good...until...
...major stomach issues. I honestly didn't think 4 little 'ole cookies would upset my tummy, but Mama always taught me to never eat sweets late at night or on an empty stomach. Did I listen? Nah. It's Christmas, I'm giddy, giggly, and single, and I'm gonna eat cookies like Santa. My brilliant giddiness lead to the next phase of the early morning hours...
...a new indulgence involving a Dramamine and Pepto Bismol.
Still, I don't regret it...the cookies were so yummy! Next time, I'll make sure I eat them after a proper meal. Live and learn, right?
Jingle Bells, jingle bells, jingle all the way....la la la la la la la...
Monday, December 13, 2010
Weekend Round-Up...And It's A Doozy
What started as a nice, peaceful White Christmas-filled weekend, quickly turned into one mind boggling situation after another. By Sunday night, I really thought I had been thrown by several different bulls, each one significantly nastier than the last.
First up: Sports: Cam Newton won the Heisman--surprise, surprise. I really have mixed feelings on this one. Hey, if the NCAA will allow Cam to win the Heisman, shouldn't they return Reggie Bush's? Just sayin'. Mavs won--hurray! Cowboys lost to Philly last night--boo hiss, BUT they stayed in the game until the end; much improved team, despite dealing with injuries at key positions. Still proud of them.
Mom Turns Into A Werewolf: Okay, not really, but when she is hungry, part the dang waters and get out of the way. This is especially true since she has been sick--she can't eat as much, has restrictions on diet...and she has hit her limits, which I discovered firsthand.
Saturday Morning: My mom didn't expect me to be there, but I was talking to dad about some Christmas things. Mom walks through the hallway with a tray--on said tray is one type of food she CANNOT have. When she saw me, her face turned red, and her eyes screamed, "Aw, crap, I just got caught."
Me: "Mom, what is that on your tray?"
Mom: "Huh? What darlin'? What are you doing anyway?"
Me: "Talking to Dad about Christmas, but that's beside the point, and I totally see that you are trying to shift the topic away from what is on your plate."
Mom: "I'm only eating half. I'll be fine."
Me: "You really want to try it? I mean, you've been doing better, right? And you haven't had any of that crap, right? Why on earth would you want to shove some of that in your stomach, knowing it could cause a severe flare up?"
Uh, yeah, shouldn't have said anything.
Mom: "If this is how I have to live my life...I'm hungry. I want my junk food. I don't want to be good. It's only a stupid half! It won't hurt me! And I'm your mama, young lady--you shouldn't tell me what I should and should not eat."
Me, stunned: "Whoa, Mom, I was only trying to help. I don't want you to have to go through another episode. I just..."
Mom: "I'll be fine. And I'm gonna eat what I want. You can, so why can't I?"
Me: "Because you get sick!"
Mom: "Humf, just a technicality."
*Note: After making were-mom's acquaintance, I later learned she did NOT eat the culprit-food and she said later on: "Baby girl, I'm sorry for being so crabby earlier. I was hungrier than a bitch wolf. Had you gotten any closer, you might have pulled back a nub." We hugged it out.
BFF: Totally has a reindeer up his rear. Foul mood personified. I swear, he is the only person I know who cheers for the hot green house in Frosty the Snowman or gets ticked when the abominable snowman turns nice in Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. He is absolutely impossible to talk to right now.
Wasn't: Honestly, I'm tired of the whole thing. I've tried to be his friend, but it's hard to be friends with someone who has no clue what it means to be a friend. Did I tell you that he asked for my mom's advice on his "relationship?" Well, he did. So, as a friend, what did I do? Went to my mama and got her advice, of course. That's what friends do. She put a lot of thought and heart into her advice...and over an hour of contemplating what she feels is going on with them. That's what people who care about others do. Wasn't...never called to get her advice, despite saying he would "in a few days." It's been about three weeks. That's not what friends do.
Mr. Bo Tangles: Oh, yes, I couldn't escape yet another humdinger.
Mr. Bo Tangles: "Hey, I just wanted to tell you...there are so many women who want to be with me, but I chose you."
Me, mouth gaping: "Uh...oh, well..."
Mr. Bo Tangles: "Let me finish. Now, I'm not going to argue why you are pulling back from me. I know the truth. What you are is no joke. I know you're an innocent. So, now, it makes complete sense. You're just scared to get involved with someone passionate, like me."
Me, nearly choking while thinking: Well, he's partially right, but it has nothing to do with my V card. "Honestly, I don't think I'm what you are looking for." Wasn't I nice? I could have said, "Honestly, I think you're a controlling, dull, a-hole." I didn't...that would have been rude.
Mr. Bo Tangles: "You're wasting your goods...you should be sharing them, enjoying them. I worry about your well-being. I'm here to help you with your predicament."
Me: "Well, thank you for your opinion and your concern, but I'm doing just fine on my own. And I don't consider my situation a predicament...it's a choice, and I'm content with it. So, thank you for your offer, but I'm good." What I wanted to say: "Well, having to change who I am to be with you just so I can say I've been there, done that, would be far, far worse than being a single virgin for eternity." Again, I stayed polite.
So, this is what its been reduced to: an offer from a not-so-nice man to help me with my "predicament." Fantastic.
Yeah. Odd, odd weekend.
First up: Sports: Cam Newton won the Heisman--surprise, surprise. I really have mixed feelings on this one. Hey, if the NCAA will allow Cam to win the Heisman, shouldn't they return Reggie Bush's? Just sayin'. Mavs won--hurray! Cowboys lost to Philly last night--boo hiss, BUT they stayed in the game until the end; much improved team, despite dealing with injuries at key positions. Still proud of them.
Mom Turns Into A Werewolf: Okay, not really, but when she is hungry, part the dang waters and get out of the way. This is especially true since she has been sick--she can't eat as much, has restrictions on diet...and she has hit her limits, which I discovered firsthand.
Saturday Morning: My mom didn't expect me to be there, but I was talking to dad about some Christmas things. Mom walks through the hallway with a tray--on said tray is one type of food she CANNOT have. When she saw me, her face turned red, and her eyes screamed, "Aw, crap, I just got caught."
Me: "Mom, what is that on your tray?"
Mom: "Huh? What darlin'? What are you doing anyway?"
Me: "Talking to Dad about Christmas, but that's beside the point, and I totally see that you are trying to shift the topic away from what is on your plate."
Mom: "I'm only eating half. I'll be fine."
Me: "You really want to try it? I mean, you've been doing better, right? And you haven't had any of that crap, right? Why on earth would you want to shove some of that in your stomach, knowing it could cause a severe flare up?"
Uh, yeah, shouldn't have said anything.
Mom: "If this is how I have to live my life...I'm hungry. I want my junk food. I don't want to be good. It's only a stupid half! It won't hurt me! And I'm your mama, young lady--you shouldn't tell me what I should and should not eat."
Me, stunned: "Whoa, Mom, I was only trying to help. I don't want you to have to go through another episode. I just..."
Mom: "I'll be fine. And I'm gonna eat what I want. You can, so why can't I?"
Me: "Because you get sick!"
Mom: "Humf, just a technicality."
*Note: After making were-mom's acquaintance, I later learned she did NOT eat the culprit-food and she said later on: "Baby girl, I'm sorry for being so crabby earlier. I was hungrier than a bitch wolf. Had you gotten any closer, you might have pulled back a nub." We hugged it out.
BFF: Totally has a reindeer up his rear. Foul mood personified. I swear, he is the only person I know who cheers for the hot green house in Frosty the Snowman or gets ticked when the abominable snowman turns nice in Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer. He is absolutely impossible to talk to right now.
Wasn't: Honestly, I'm tired of the whole thing. I've tried to be his friend, but it's hard to be friends with someone who has no clue what it means to be a friend. Did I tell you that he asked for my mom's advice on his "relationship?" Well, he did. So, as a friend, what did I do? Went to my mama and got her advice, of course. That's what friends do. She put a lot of thought and heart into her advice...and over an hour of contemplating what she feels is going on with them. That's what people who care about others do. Wasn't...never called to get her advice, despite saying he would "in a few days." It's been about three weeks. That's not what friends do.
Mr. Bo Tangles: Oh, yes, I couldn't escape yet another humdinger.
Mr. Bo Tangles: "Hey, I just wanted to tell you...there are so many women who want to be with me, but I chose you."
Me, mouth gaping: "Uh...oh, well..."
Mr. Bo Tangles: "Let me finish. Now, I'm not going to argue why you are pulling back from me. I know the truth. What you are is no joke. I know you're an innocent. So, now, it makes complete sense. You're just scared to get involved with someone passionate, like me."
Me, nearly choking while thinking: Well, he's partially right, but it has nothing to do with my V card. "Honestly, I don't think I'm what you are looking for." Wasn't I nice? I could have said, "Honestly, I think you're a controlling, dull, a-hole." I didn't...that would have been rude.
Mr. Bo Tangles: "You're wasting your goods...you should be sharing them, enjoying them. I worry about your well-being. I'm here to help you with your predicament."
Me: "Well, thank you for your opinion and your concern, but I'm doing just fine on my own. And I don't consider my situation a predicament...it's a choice, and I'm content with it. So, thank you for your offer, but I'm good." What I wanted to say: "Well, having to change who I am to be with you just so I can say I've been there, done that, would be far, far worse than being a single virgin for eternity." Again, I stayed polite.
So, this is what its been reduced to: an offer from a not-so-nice man to help me with my "predicament." Fantastic.
Yeah. Odd, odd weekend.
Thursday, December 9, 2010
Stereotype Slayer #11: Virgins Are Bookworms
Um, well, this one is....TRUE! I was, am, and will always be a bookworm. Now, I don't particularly care for the term "bookworm." I mean, I'm not a bug or a bore (at least, I don't think I am...never been called annoying, like a fly, or boring or dull like a stereotypical book nerd).
Here's what: I love to read. I love books. I love writing. Not thinking this is something specific to virgins, but, alas, we get stamped with the "bookworm" label every time, which usually equates to one big yawn.
Yes, I was a total Hermione in school. Remember the star chart (or equivalent) when you were in kindergarten or preschool? You know, where Teacher would put a gold, silver, red, or green star sticker next to your name? Well, my Hermione-like behavior started the moment I saw a red star next to my name. Blasphemy! Where's my dang gold star?! Evil teacher-lady! From that second, I grew obsessed with getting gold stars, then check-pluses, then check-check-plus-pluses, then, eventually, A's.
I'm not ashamed of working hard in school. I had a very specific goal, which required a whole lot of schooling, exams, etc. And you know what? I did it. I worked hard, fought through the peer pressure, shed countless tears, and achieved my goal. It was a lonely, stressful road, I can tell you that; my friends always referred to me as "so disciplined," and some guys would try and sweet-talk me into helping them with their studies.
I never did the whole mega-dork-school-kid thing, but I was a worker...and I still am. If that makes me a bookworm or book nerd, so be it. I'll proudly wear that badge, as I'm sure many, many non-virgins will as well.
Stereotype #11: PROUDLY AFFIRMED
Here's what: I love to read. I love books. I love writing. Not thinking this is something specific to virgins, but, alas, we get stamped with the "bookworm" label every time, which usually equates to one big yawn.
Yes, I was a total Hermione in school. Remember the star chart (or equivalent) when you were in kindergarten or preschool? You know, where Teacher would put a gold, silver, red, or green star sticker next to your name? Well, my Hermione-like behavior started the moment I saw a red star next to my name. Blasphemy! Where's my dang gold star?! Evil teacher-lady! From that second, I grew obsessed with getting gold stars, then check-pluses, then check-check-plus-pluses, then, eventually, A's.
I'm not ashamed of working hard in school. I had a very specific goal, which required a whole lot of schooling, exams, etc. And you know what? I did it. I worked hard, fought through the peer pressure, shed countless tears, and achieved my goal. It was a lonely, stressful road, I can tell you that; my friends always referred to me as "so disciplined," and some guys would try and sweet-talk me into helping them with their studies.
I never did the whole mega-dork-school-kid thing, but I was a worker...and I still am. If that makes me a bookworm or book nerd, so be it. I'll proudly wear that badge, as I'm sure many, many non-virgins will as well.
Stereotype #11: PROUDLY AFFIRMED
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
What If Wednesday: What If He's Married?
"What if the man you are meant to be with is married? Sometimes you can't control who you fall in love with."
Yes, this is one I've heard. This question naturally came from a woman who has been in love with a married man, had an affair with him, effectively aided in breaking up his marriage, bore his child, then ended up dumped shortly thereafter.
For me, the answer is simple: If he is married, he was never meant to be with me in the first place. If a man is married, I look the other way; frankly, if a man is even dating someone, I look the other way. Married men, boyfriends, men who are dating someone, are simply not options.
I respect marriage vows, even if they are not my own. Likewise, I would never encroach on another woman's relationship, no matter how open or serious it may be. It all kind-of goes back to that golden rule.
So, to recap, if he's married, he was not the one meant to be with me. If he's in a relationship on any level, he's off limits. Free and clear and single--that's the motto. That's just how my mama raised me...and it's what I believe is right.
Yes, this is one I've heard. This question naturally came from a woman who has been in love with a married man, had an affair with him, effectively aided in breaking up his marriage, bore his child, then ended up dumped shortly thereafter.
For me, the answer is simple: If he is married, he was never meant to be with me in the first place. If a man is married, I look the other way; frankly, if a man is even dating someone, I look the other way. Married men, boyfriends, men who are dating someone, are simply not options.
I respect marriage vows, even if they are not my own. Likewise, I would never encroach on another woman's relationship, no matter how open or serious it may be. It all kind-of goes back to that golden rule.
So, to recap, if he's married, he was not the one meant to be with me. If he's in a relationship on any level, he's off limits. Free and clear and single--that's the motto. That's just how my mama raised me...and it's what I believe is right.
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
I Miss The Good Old Days...The Ones I Never Knew
Well, I think I've hit a love-life-brick-wall. I look at some of these dates that I've had and find I can laugh with fate--Thank goodness God blessed me with the family humor gene. Seriously, what else can I do? Cry? Moan? Whine? Nah, not my style.
I just brush it off and keep on moving. But there are moments when things test your level of tolerance when it comes to this looking-for-love stuff.
Case in point: Mr. Bo Tangles apparently believes he was nothing but a perfect gentleman. When I told him that I just don't think it will work, he said, "Well, can we at least have one night of crazy, hot sex?"
God, help me. If it wasn't so pathetically irritating, it would be laughable. And perhaps I will laugh...tomorrow. I mean, he asked me for sex. Really? For real? So, he's a controlling horn-ball. Fabulous.
Is this all that's out there nowadays? Is this really as good as it gets?
I love watching old movies to escape today. Now, I know there were problems back in the day, but no one can convince me they were anything on the level of what we are dealing with today. A moment ago, an Amber Alert flashed across a news station. My parents talk about how they could walk to a friend's house, to school, to town, and not worry that someone is going to threaten them, hurt them. What the hell happened to that feeling? It's a feeling I've never known. When I was 12 years old, I was nearly abducted, not more than a few houses from my backdoor...in an otherwise extremely safe neighborhood and town. I got away, hiding in the garage of a neighbor's house. I can't possibly describe the fear running through my veins, but it's a feeling I have never forgotten.
Now, as a grown woman, I have to worry about things far more serious than some kooky dates; we always have to keep an eye on our surroundings, who is around us; constant vigilance is required to live in this world.
Take a trip back with me for a minute. Come with me to a time where the films were free of foul language and intense sex scenes (and, truthfully, do you really miss it when you watch them?); where the women were elegant and the men chivalrous; where humor didn't require obscene gestures or the f-bomb in every other sentence.
Now, please don't mistake me, I'm not a simpleton--I swear from time to time (Cowboys are my Achilles heel); and you won't hear me complain if Johnny Depp decides to strip down in a film.
I'm simply saying I miss the times I never knew. It would be nice to feel 100% safe day in and day out; it would be nice to go on a date with a man and have it be...normal...without feeling the pressure of having to address the sex thing, which is always around the third date. It would be nice to go on a date with a man who doesn't then ask for at least one night of hot sex. That's not the way it's supposed to be...it just isn't.
So, travel with me for a minute and tell me you don't feel even the slightest sense of longing for what you never knew. All you have to do is watch and listen to the end of White Christmas. "I'm dreaming of a White Christmas..."
I just brush it off and keep on moving. But there are moments when things test your level of tolerance when it comes to this looking-for-love stuff.
Case in point: Mr. Bo Tangles apparently believes he was nothing but a perfect gentleman. When I told him that I just don't think it will work, he said, "Well, can we at least have one night of crazy, hot sex?"
God, help me. If it wasn't so pathetically irritating, it would be laughable. And perhaps I will laugh...tomorrow. I mean, he asked me for sex. Really? For real? So, he's a controlling horn-ball. Fabulous.
Is this all that's out there nowadays? Is this really as good as it gets?
I love watching old movies to escape today. Now, I know there were problems back in the day, but no one can convince me they were anything on the level of what we are dealing with today. A moment ago, an Amber Alert flashed across a news station. My parents talk about how they could walk to a friend's house, to school, to town, and not worry that someone is going to threaten them, hurt them. What the hell happened to that feeling? It's a feeling I've never known. When I was 12 years old, I was nearly abducted, not more than a few houses from my backdoor...in an otherwise extremely safe neighborhood and town. I got away, hiding in the garage of a neighbor's house. I can't possibly describe the fear running through my veins, but it's a feeling I have never forgotten.
Now, as a grown woman, I have to worry about things far more serious than some kooky dates; we always have to keep an eye on our surroundings, who is around us; constant vigilance is required to live in this world.
Take a trip back with me for a minute. Come with me to a time where the films were free of foul language and intense sex scenes (and, truthfully, do you really miss it when you watch them?); where the women were elegant and the men chivalrous; where humor didn't require obscene gestures or the f-bomb in every other sentence.
Now, please don't mistake me, I'm not a simpleton--I swear from time to time (Cowboys are my Achilles heel); and you won't hear me complain if Johnny Depp decides to strip down in a film.
I'm simply saying I miss the times I never knew. It would be nice to feel 100% safe day in and day out; it would be nice to go on a date with a man and have it be...normal...without feeling the pressure of having to address the sex thing, which is always around the third date. It would be nice to go on a date with a man who doesn't then ask for at least one night of hot sex. That's not the way it's supposed to be...it just isn't.
So, travel with me for a minute and tell me you don't feel even the slightest sense of longing for what you never knew. All you have to do is watch and listen to the end of White Christmas. "I'm dreaming of a White Christmas..."
Monday, December 6, 2010
Gotta Wash That Man Right Outta My Hair
Place: Nice sushi restaurant...I hate sushi.
Flag one.
Plan: Group date--Me, my date (who I will refer to as Mr. Bo Tangles), a friend of mine, and friends of his. Mr. Bo Tangles said he would take care of everything; invite all parties, including my friend; he really wanted to "impress me." His words. And, boy, did he impress me.
Scene: Me, Mr. Bo Tangles, and three couples I have never seen before.
Dilemma: Where is my friend? Could he not make it? Did he bail?
Answer: Mr. Bo Tangles "forgot" to invite him.
Possible flag two.
Before Dinner:
Mr. Bo Tangles: "I'm sorry, but it's driving me crazy."
Me, trying not to feel queasy over the fishy menu: "What is?"
I barely turned my head and the man had his hand in my hair, pushing it behind my ear.
Mr. Bo Tangles, tucking my hair tightly behind my ear: "Sorry, but you have this one little section of hair that is just flyaway and it's driving me nuts."
Flag three?
Me, stunned: "Uh, oh, well...it is windy out, so..."
The other couples looked extremely uncomfortable. One of the guys starting talking football to ease the moment, which worked beautifully until...
Mr. Bo Tangles: "Ugh, it came loose again. Maybe if you didn't get so expressive in your conversation."
Ugh, DEFINITE flag four.
Me, gently nudging his hand away as he tried to re-tuck my hair: "Your friend and I are having fun talking about the Longhorns. Come on, just have fun and forget the hair. I mean, it's hair, not some beast that's going to attack you at any minute." Although, I kind-of wished my hair could reach out and smack him.
Everyone laughed, but not Mr. Bo Tangles; nope, instead, he stared at the side of my head with the offensive strand of hair. I swear, it was like he was trying to visually flatten it down--now there's a new take on a superpower--super ion flat iron eye beams! Oooh, watch out Superman!
Dinner: Um, yeah, not so much. I spent most of the time trying not to regale them with a live production of The Bold and The Gagging.
I noticed Mr. Bo Tangles talking to one of his female friends, even taking her outside for a moment. Very odd. When he returned, he was all smiles.
Female friend: "You have such pretty hair!"
Me: "Oh, well, thank you."
Maybe she had a talk with him; maybe he's finally off this hair-obsessed kick.
Female friend: "I bet it would look gorgeous in a ponytail. Here, let's see what it would look like."
Maybe not.
Without much time to process what was happening, the woman began pulling it back into a low ponytail. If that wasn't shocking enough, she tied it back with...are you ready...a scrunchie. I haven't worn a scrunchie since the 1990s; at that moment, I suddenly recalled an episode of Sex and the City...and the infamous scrunchie.
So, now, the hair I had worked hard to have look nice for this date is destroyed and slicked back...into a scrunchie. I am part mortified, part ticked beyond belief, particularly when I see Mr. Bo Tangles--his smile could not get any wider; it was triumphant, almost gloating.
He conquered my hair! Hurray! It was like he wanted a Yankees-World Series-like celebration. All I could picture was how I'd ditch the confetti and toss this raw fish crap instead.
I kept the regrettably cloth hair-tie in place for a bit. When I did remove it, he scowled.
Mr. Bo Tangles: "Why did you take it down?"
Me: "Because this is me. I'm not a pull-your-hair-back-in-a-scrunchie kind-of-gal, and when I do pull it back, it's with an ouch-less rubber band that matches my hair. Besides, I like my hair long and free. And, frankly, when I've taken the time to fix it for a date, I don't particularly care for someone seeing fit to mess it up.
Mr. Bo Tangles: "I just thought you'd look even prettier if..."
Me: "I'm not looking for someone to change me to meet some impossible idea of who he thinks I should be. He'll never be happy and I'll never be good enough. That's no way to live...for either party."
Married male friend: "I like your hair however you want to wear it. That little wild strand is pretty hot."
Uh, uncomfortable moment alert! His wife looked murderous.
And that, my dear blogging buddies, was the end of said date. Add it to the list.
Note to self: Find man who likes sometimes unruly hair.
Flag one.
Plan: Group date--Me, my date (who I will refer to as Mr. Bo Tangles), a friend of mine, and friends of his. Mr. Bo Tangles said he would take care of everything; invite all parties, including my friend; he really wanted to "impress me." His words. And, boy, did he impress me.
Scene: Me, Mr. Bo Tangles, and three couples I have never seen before.
Dilemma: Where is my friend? Could he not make it? Did he bail?
Answer: Mr. Bo Tangles "forgot" to invite him.
Possible flag two.
Before Dinner:
Mr. Bo Tangles: "I'm sorry, but it's driving me crazy."
Me, trying not to feel queasy over the fishy menu: "What is?"
I barely turned my head and the man had his hand in my hair, pushing it behind my ear.
Mr. Bo Tangles, tucking my hair tightly behind my ear: "Sorry, but you have this one little section of hair that is just flyaway and it's driving me nuts."
Flag three?
Me, stunned: "Uh, oh, well...it is windy out, so..."
The other couples looked extremely uncomfortable. One of the guys starting talking football to ease the moment, which worked beautifully until...
Mr. Bo Tangles: "Ugh, it came loose again. Maybe if you didn't get so expressive in your conversation."
Ugh, DEFINITE flag four.
Me, gently nudging his hand away as he tried to re-tuck my hair: "Your friend and I are having fun talking about the Longhorns. Come on, just have fun and forget the hair. I mean, it's hair, not some beast that's going to attack you at any minute." Although, I kind-of wished my hair could reach out and smack him.
Everyone laughed, but not Mr. Bo Tangles; nope, instead, he stared at the side of my head with the offensive strand of hair. I swear, it was like he was trying to visually flatten it down--now there's a new take on a superpower--super ion flat iron eye beams! Oooh, watch out Superman!
Dinner: Um, yeah, not so much. I spent most of the time trying not to regale them with a live production of The Bold and The Gagging.
I noticed Mr. Bo Tangles talking to one of his female friends, even taking her outside for a moment. Very odd. When he returned, he was all smiles.
Female friend: "You have such pretty hair!"
Me: "Oh, well, thank you."
Maybe she had a talk with him; maybe he's finally off this hair-obsessed kick.
Female friend: "I bet it would look gorgeous in a ponytail. Here, let's see what it would look like."
Maybe not.
Without much time to process what was happening, the woman began pulling it back into a low ponytail. If that wasn't shocking enough, she tied it back with...are you ready...a scrunchie. I haven't worn a scrunchie since the 1990s; at that moment, I suddenly recalled an episode of Sex and the City...and the infamous scrunchie.
So, now, the hair I had worked hard to have look nice for this date is destroyed and slicked back...into a scrunchie. I am part mortified, part ticked beyond belief, particularly when I see Mr. Bo Tangles--his smile could not get any wider; it was triumphant, almost gloating.
He conquered my hair! Hurray! It was like he wanted a Yankees-World Series-like celebration. All I could picture was how I'd ditch the confetti and toss this raw fish crap instead.
I kept the regrettably cloth hair-tie in place for a bit. When I did remove it, he scowled.
Mr. Bo Tangles: "Why did you take it down?"
Me: "Because this is me. I'm not a pull-your-hair-back-in-a-scrunchie kind-of-gal, and when I do pull it back, it's with an ouch-less rubber band that matches my hair. Besides, I like my hair long and free. And, frankly, when I've taken the time to fix it for a date, I don't particularly care for someone seeing fit to mess it up.
Mr. Bo Tangles: "I just thought you'd look even prettier if..."
Me: "I'm not looking for someone to change me to meet some impossible idea of who he thinks I should be. He'll never be happy and I'll never be good enough. That's no way to live...for either party."
Married male friend: "I like your hair however you want to wear it. That little wild strand is pretty hot."
Uh, uncomfortable moment alert! His wife looked murderous.
And that, my dear blogging buddies, was the end of said date. Add it to the list.
Note to self: Find man who likes sometimes unruly hair.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Cowboys-Colts--One Word: AWESOME.
I'm sorry for anyone who missed this one, for this game has it all, including a trademark Manning comeback.
In the end, we went into overtime, where the Cowboys intercepted a tipped Manning pass to set up the game winning field goal.
Cowboys win in OT! Great game, truly. Both teams played their hearts out--can't ask for much more than that.
Jason Garrett has this team playing with conviction and heart.
On deck? Michael Vick and the Philadelphia Eagles. Yeah. Well....we just won't think about it right now.
Way to go Cowboys! My 'Boys are coming back!!!
In the end, we went into overtime, where the Cowboys intercepted a tipped Manning pass to set up the game winning field goal.
Cowboys win in OT! Great game, truly. Both teams played their hearts out--can't ask for much more than that.
Jason Garrett has this team playing with conviction and heart.
On deck? Michael Vick and the Philadelphia Eagles. Yeah. Well....we just won't think about it right now.
Way to go Cowboys! My 'Boys are coming back!!!
Halftime Thoughts: Cowboys, Cam Newton, and The Bum-Hunters
So, it's halftime of the Dallas game--thought I would pop over and relieve my mind of some rather annoying thoughts...lucky for y'all, right? *NOTE: By the time I finish this, the game will be back on, no doubt.
Cowboys: Looking good against Peyton Manning and the Colts. We have some work to do. i.e. O-Line, Kicker. Confession: I was wrong about Kitna. He's been playing on par with, if not better than, Romo. His numbers are impressive, but, more importantly to this rabid fan, he WANTS to succeed; he's passionate about this team. His reactions on the field SHOW fans just how much he cares. THIS is something you just don't get from Romo, at least I don't.
If you think about it, we have a 38-year-old, unquestionably passionate back-up QB, putting up Romo-esque numbers, helping the team get points, and putting the Cowboys in position to get wins each week. Hmm. Makes you think.
Cam Newton: Yeah, I don't get it. He's a great player--not arguing that fact. It just annoys the holy heck out of me that the Bum-Hunters (i.e. announcers/Heisman voters) think the sun shines out his rear (guess they would know, since they spend most of their time in said region). Yesterday during the SEC Championship game, I thought the announcers were quite literally going to go down on the field and kiss the kid; they just sang his praises to the point of eww-ville.
I mean, he's a great player...with a shady past, involving questionable integrity/honesty/morality. But, hey, so long as he plays well, why should those things matter? Who cares about honestly, integrity, and morals, right? He's going to win the Heisman because it's all about what you do on the field; who gives a hoot about the person behind the player...right?
Sad, but that seems to be the direction our society is moving. Maybe someone needs to take it back and make a stand.
Oh, and, for future reference, Mr. Bum-Hunter-announcers, please know that Cam is NOT the first multi-talented QB (Vince Young, anyone? Texas Longhorns? Hello??) and I dare say he will not be the last.
Okay, rant over...and my Cowboys just scored....must go.
Cowboys: Looking good against Peyton Manning and the Colts. We have some work to do. i.e. O-Line, Kicker. Confession: I was wrong about Kitna. He's been playing on par with, if not better than, Romo. His numbers are impressive, but, more importantly to this rabid fan, he WANTS to succeed; he's passionate about this team. His reactions on the field SHOW fans just how much he cares. THIS is something you just don't get from Romo, at least I don't.
If you think about it, we have a 38-year-old, unquestionably passionate back-up QB, putting up Romo-esque numbers, helping the team get points, and putting the Cowboys in position to get wins each week. Hmm. Makes you think.
Cam Newton: Yeah, I don't get it. He's a great player--not arguing that fact. It just annoys the holy heck out of me that the Bum-Hunters (i.e. announcers/Heisman voters) think the sun shines out his rear (guess they would know, since they spend most of their time in said region). Yesterday during the SEC Championship game, I thought the announcers were quite literally going to go down on the field and kiss the kid; they just sang his praises to the point of eww-ville.
I mean, he's a great player...with a shady past, involving questionable integrity/honesty/morality. But, hey, so long as he plays well, why should those things matter? Who cares about honestly, integrity, and morals, right? He's going to win the Heisman because it's all about what you do on the field; who gives a hoot about the person behind the player...right?
Sad, but that seems to be the direction our society is moving. Maybe someone needs to take it back and make a stand.
Oh, and, for future reference, Mr. Bum-Hunter-announcers, please know that Cam is NOT the first multi-talented QB (Vince Young, anyone? Texas Longhorns? Hello??) and I dare say he will not be the last.
Okay, rant over...and my Cowboys just scored....must go.
Friday, December 3, 2010
Times Like These Make Me Glad I'm Single
1. Friend discovers husband has had a sexting correspondence with another woman. No word on whether this has gotten physical.
2. Another friend gets some big news about a job she's been hoping for; she calls hubby to tell him the exciting news; hubby doesn't even congratulate her and instead makes some sarcastic comment, sending her into tears.
3. BFF has been dealing with an emotionally dysfunctional woman, who, I believe, has crafted a relationship out of thin air. We're talking fantasy land, here.
4. Then there are moments like last night...moments you would never want another human being to witness, particularly a man, who should see you as sexy, adorable, cute even. I was none of those things last night when, for whatever reason, I decided mid-gulp that I would go ahead and down the last bit of water in my glass at once.
Somehow, the message didn't quite make it from my brain to my throat. It's kind-of a fog how it all happened, but I started swallowing, while still sipping, then stopped, gagged, and choked...like, bad.
Think pool or ocean and you take in too much water. Know the feeling? See the spastic facial expressions and overly red face? Got the sound effects? Yeah, that.
Now, add hysterical laughter to the picture.
That would be me.
Once it happened, I quite literally sent a fountain-spit of water back into the glass...and on my legs. The trajectory of the water leaving my mouth sent me into tear-filled, hysterical laughter, all while choking. I've swallowed down the wrong pipe before....this was not that.
No, this was very different. Had it been witnessed, the laughter would not have subsided for days. I mean, who in heck has an underwater-choking experience without actually being in the water. You would have thought I had been hit by a massive wave.
It took me extra time to catch my breath because the ongoing sounds emerging from my mouth were just hilarious to me at the time.
I sounded like the Jaws girl in the beginning of the movie...you know, minus the whole giant-shark-butt-biting-thing.
Yes, it's in those moments of utter and complete idiocy when I do not regret being single.
2. Another friend gets some big news about a job she's been hoping for; she calls hubby to tell him the exciting news; hubby doesn't even congratulate her and instead makes some sarcastic comment, sending her into tears.
3. BFF has been dealing with an emotionally dysfunctional woman, who, I believe, has crafted a relationship out of thin air. We're talking fantasy land, here.
4. Then there are moments like last night...moments you would never want another human being to witness, particularly a man, who should see you as sexy, adorable, cute even. I was none of those things last night when, for whatever reason, I decided mid-gulp that I would go ahead and down the last bit of water in my glass at once.
Somehow, the message didn't quite make it from my brain to my throat. It's kind-of a fog how it all happened, but I started swallowing, while still sipping, then stopped, gagged, and choked...like, bad.
Think pool or ocean and you take in too much water. Know the feeling? See the spastic facial expressions and overly red face? Got the sound effects? Yeah, that.
Now, add hysterical laughter to the picture.
That would be me.
Once it happened, I quite literally sent a fountain-spit of water back into the glass...and on my legs. The trajectory of the water leaving my mouth sent me into tear-filled, hysterical laughter, all while choking. I've swallowed down the wrong pipe before....this was not that.
No, this was very different. Had it been witnessed, the laughter would not have subsided for days. I mean, who in heck has an underwater-choking experience without actually being in the water. You would have thought I had been hit by a massive wave.
It took me extra time to catch my breath because the ongoing sounds emerging from my mouth were just hilarious to me at the time.
I sounded like the Jaws girl in the beginning of the movie...you know, minus the whole giant-shark-butt-biting-thing.
Yes, it's in those moments of utter and complete idiocy when I do not regret being single.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Why Is It So Difficult To Just Be NICE?
Brief rant: I don't understand why it is so difficult for people to be kind to others. I've seen people place jealousy over friendship, greed over family, and money over love. I've been ridiculed for my choice to wait for love...love, nothing more, nothing less.
Does it hurt? Yes, it does. I'm human. We all are...and THAT is what I don't understand. The very same people spewing venom probably wouldn't like it if they were the recipients. So, why do it? I don't get it.
Recently, Dale Earnhardt, Jr. received a new crew chief and will now share a shop with five-time champ, Jimmie Johnson. The headlines? Oh, things along the lines of the following: One Last Chance For Earnhardt at Hendrick; Last Shot For Dale; Final Ditch Effort. One headline even called him irrelevant.
How cruel can you be? He's a human being, just like you and me. No one deserves this. This man gets hit left and right; when he wins, it's a conspiracy...when he loses, the wolves unleash.
How would you like it? Day in, day out, nothing but negativity.
Today, he won NASCAR's Most Popular Driver Award...for the 8th straight year. He has earned it; people like the man, probably because he is who he is...how many people can you honestly say that about in today's society? Not very many when you really think about it. Most people have hidden agendas or are so busy trying to please other people, they have lost themselves in the process.
What is the first thing I hear after the announcement made it online? "Well, that's the only trophy he can win. Big surprise, his fans just want to make sure he has at least one trophy in his case. By the way, how's his girlfriend?"
Now, the "girlfriend" comment is something that non-fans have been throwing in true-fans' faces for a while...and I have something to say about the situation, which I will do in a separate post, even though I strongly dislike the "gossip" talk. While it's really no one's business, I feel it's time something is said 'cause this fan has had enough.
As to his driving: the man CAN drive, so stop with the "overrated" talk. Please, before you actually spew the venom, take a look at his record...do your homework. This is the kind of thing that can totally chip away at a person's confidence. I don't care who you are, no one can shoulder the weight of the world.
Look, teams in all sports go through highs and lows, ups and downs...that's the nature of sports in general. I've been through Super Bowls with my Cowboys; I've also witnessed (oftentimes with an overactive gag reflex) a 1-15 season. It's a cycle. Eventually, they will rise to the top once more. As will Dale.
I suppose my point is this: Be kind to others. Absolutely nothing is gained by cruelty.
Remember the Golden Rule? Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
It's really not difficult to be a nice person. Not sure why some find it so challenging.
Does it hurt? Yes, it does. I'm human. We all are...and THAT is what I don't understand. The very same people spewing venom probably wouldn't like it if they were the recipients. So, why do it? I don't get it.
Recently, Dale Earnhardt, Jr. received a new crew chief and will now share a shop with five-time champ, Jimmie Johnson. The headlines? Oh, things along the lines of the following: One Last Chance For Earnhardt at Hendrick; Last Shot For Dale; Final Ditch Effort. One headline even called him irrelevant.
How cruel can you be? He's a human being, just like you and me. No one deserves this. This man gets hit left and right; when he wins, it's a conspiracy...when he loses, the wolves unleash.
How would you like it? Day in, day out, nothing but negativity.
Today, he won NASCAR's Most Popular Driver Award...for the 8th straight year. He has earned it; people like the man, probably because he is who he is...how many people can you honestly say that about in today's society? Not very many when you really think about it. Most people have hidden agendas or are so busy trying to please other people, they have lost themselves in the process.
What is the first thing I hear after the announcement made it online? "Well, that's the only trophy he can win. Big surprise, his fans just want to make sure he has at least one trophy in his case. By the way, how's his girlfriend?"
Now, the "girlfriend" comment is something that non-fans have been throwing in true-fans' faces for a while...and I have something to say about the situation, which I will do in a separate post, even though I strongly dislike the "gossip" talk. While it's really no one's business, I feel it's time something is said 'cause this fan has had enough.
As to his driving: the man CAN drive, so stop with the "overrated" talk. Please, before you actually spew the venom, take a look at his record...do your homework. This is the kind of thing that can totally chip away at a person's confidence. I don't care who you are, no one can shoulder the weight of the world.
Look, teams in all sports go through highs and lows, ups and downs...that's the nature of sports in general. I've been through Super Bowls with my Cowboys; I've also witnessed (oftentimes with an overactive gag reflex) a 1-15 season. It's a cycle. Eventually, they will rise to the top once more. As will Dale.
I suppose my point is this: Be kind to others. Absolutely nothing is gained by cruelty.
Remember the Golden Rule? Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
It's really not difficult to be a nice person. Not sure why some find it so challenging.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Assumed Name: Married
Well, it happened. A woman I don't know, never met, assumed I was married. She is someone I have bought from over the internet--incredibly talented lady. Anyway, I was contemplating a couple of items via e-mail and received this reply: "...you could always drop hubby a few hints for Christmas."
Burn. Ouch. Sting. ZING! BAM. BOOM! Smack.
It's totally not her fault at all--she couldn't possibly have known. It just stung a wee bit.
And, yet, one of my married friends is in utter hell--she said, "...love where you are in life. You are single and have the freedom to do what you want, when you want; sleep as long as you want without having to explain it to anyone; you can do all your little quirky things without someone looking at you like you're goofy. Freedom, my friend, is golden. You lose some of that when you are married, whether you realize it or not...you will eventually and you'll miss these times."
Not the first time I've heard this from the Marrieds. I just wish I could find someone who is chill with me and I can be chill with him...you know--he can still do whatever makes his life happy and I can do the same. I dunno. I just don't think marriage has to be, or should be, all that complicated.
Now, I have to go back and clarify to her that I'm not married...that I am, in fact, single. Oh, I can't tell you how I live for writing, saying, and reading those words over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.
It's a dreary day in Singletonville...and the rain isn't helping. Although, I do actually love the rain. Go figure.
Burn. Ouch. Sting. ZING! BAM. BOOM! Smack.
It's totally not her fault at all--she couldn't possibly have known. It just stung a wee bit.
And, yet, one of my married friends is in utter hell--she said, "...love where you are in life. You are single and have the freedom to do what you want, when you want; sleep as long as you want without having to explain it to anyone; you can do all your little quirky things without someone looking at you like you're goofy. Freedom, my friend, is golden. You lose some of that when you are married, whether you realize it or not...you will eventually and you'll miss these times."
Not the first time I've heard this from the Marrieds. I just wish I could find someone who is chill with me and I can be chill with him...you know--he can still do whatever makes his life happy and I can do the same. I dunno. I just don't think marriage has to be, or should be, all that complicated.
Now, I have to go back and clarify to her that I'm not married...that I am, in fact, single. Oh, I can't tell you how I live for writing, saying, and reading those words over and over and over and over and over and over and over again.
It's a dreary day in Singletonville...and the rain isn't helping. Although, I do actually love the rain. Go figure.
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