Monday, March 14, 2016

A Note to My Guy Friends.....

When you become a parent, you are the one who is supposed to have all of the answers. I like to think that my perspective is pretty sufficient for my teenagers because I have already gone through what they are going through, naturally, and I have learned a lot in life thus far.  But occasionally, my children show me something and they have no idea that they have done it.  My 14-year-old son, Logan, is starting to deal with an issue that I am only now starting to understand and work through in my 30’s and I am a little mind blown by the perspective that he gave me on Friday night.  One minute I am a parent being protective of my child, and then the next, I am just a girl again thinking about the flip-side of what he is saying and hoping it’s not my fault that he’s going through it.

Parenthood has me really thinking that the Friend Zone is bullshit, as odd as that sounds. 

When I was 15, I became the teenage girl who only dated assholes who made her unhappy.  Eventually, a pattern emerged.  I became an adult who was doing the same thing and it was clear that I was a habitual offender; I was always devoted to the wrong guy and wouldn’t walk away until I was so depleted and exhausted that I had nothing left to give and I didn’t care anymore.  I was angry that I was treated badly, but I was used to it, so my relationships always ended with me leaving and wondering what I was doing wrong.  Long story short, after a lot of pondering and some therapy, I finally figured out what the pattern was about and I only partially blame the guys I have been in relationships with because I had no idea I was with them to fill a void in the first place. I am not letting anyone off the hook here for treating me badly, but I am saying that had I taken the time to understand my childhood and myself, none of my relationships would have gotten as dark and scary as they did.  I can’t fix anyone else, they can’t fix me, and the desire for that to happen can lead to very dysfunctional situations.  I am happy to say that I have figured all of this crap out.  I can also say that I have many, many guy friends who never would have treated me badly.  And it's sort of bullshit. (Watch how many times I say that word in this post.) 

Throughout my life, starting from the age of 14 years of age to now, I have always had male friends telling me I am better than the assholes I have chosen.  I would basically nod, say thank you, love you, and go back to what I was doing because whatever they said never really resonated.

My son is very open with me.  He is deep, sweet, intelligent, and cares about people.  He told me about one of his girlfriends who is in a bad situation with a guy.  I got all of the information about the girl because it’s my job as an adult to make sure I don’t need to get involved, but I also just listened to him and tried to give him advice.  He described the girl as innocent, different from the other girls, said she reminds him of me (big red flag for me that we pass this crap onto our kids) and he is upset that she is putting herself in a stupid situation.  They are obviously very close because he wouldn’t even tell me who she was in order to protect her.  He is trying to be there for her but she won’t listen.  He is mad at the guy and can’t say anything.  He is frustrated that he is taking the time to give her advice and then he has to watch her ignore it and continue to hurt herself.  It dawned on me that my son is “the good guy,” the one that this girl may never learn to appreciate, the one who gets “friend zoned” while she continues to date assholes, the one who will have to repeat the same advice to these girls, over and over and over, unless I can explain to him that it’s the girls’ issue, not his.  As a mother, I would rather him be the good guy than the asshole and I am proud of him, but I also don’t want him to attempt to save every broken girl because I know how that ends.  As a mother, I want him to put his time into a girl who is capable of loving him back and not get hung up on the ones who will make him crazy.  As a mother, I know he deserves a girl who knows herself.  I don’t want my sons to love girls who love assholes.

I have a lot of guy friends; I always have since I was in middle school.  (Some, most, all, none) of them want to sleep with me.  I don’t know.  I am sure that it varies just like the depth of every relationship.  But whether or not they are romantically interested in me or have been at any point, I realize now that I have probably really upset them from time to time because some of my stories have been upsetting.  Women often talk to their male friends about their relationships to gain a perspective that they can’t get from their girlfriends and although I have always heard my male friends say “You deserve better than that,” I never thought about how I made them feel every time I ignored their advice.  Women can be protective; I am very protective of my friends, but it is inherent for a (good) man to want to protect a woman.  My son is 14.  He is protective of me, he is protective of his sister (even when he can’t stand her) and he is already displaying concern for girls his own age.  What I haven’t considered when I talk to my male friends about how another “man” is behaving is that maybe I can’t talk to them as if I am talking to my girlfriends.  When I listened to Logan, I realized how upsetting it could be.  First of all, if they are good guys, they will never be okay with an asshole.  Secondly, they sometimes feel like taking action and when you don’t let them do anything and then go back to the situation, it’s very frustrating.  What if their need to protect me has actually upset them more so than it would one of my girlfriends and by treating them the same, I have made a big mistake?  I once told one of my guy friends over the phone what a boyfriend had done after I broke up with him and it got quiet.  He had put the phone down in order to punch something. He came back and I apologized.  I don’t want a girl upsetting my son like that. It's bullshit that I was with the assholes. 

Every single one of the good guys in my life has a mother and if I were that mother, I would have told them not to be as patient as they have been with me in the past, but as a girl, I am so grateful for the men in my life who have told me I am a catch, that someone will treat me well, and that I deserve a guy who will give me the world.  I think about the patience they have had with me over the years and I am beyond grateful, but I am also very sorry that they have had to watch me suffer.

Women make a lot of jokes about how men don’t listen, how they aren’t empathetic, how they only think with their penises…but it’s not always true.  And it is also not always true that being this way gets you friend zoned...but it seems true sometimes.  

I just want to give a shout out to all of my male friends who have loved me so much, who have listened to my bullshit, over and over and over and over and over on repeat, like a broken record and not really gotten the same in return all the time.  Thank you for being awesome men and not little boys.  Thanks for telling me over the years that I deserve a good you. 

I usually have some end paragraph that ties together everything I have said, but I just don’t.  I think I am just curious as to what the men have to say about this. 

Monday, February 8, 2016

"Hey, I know we haven't met. Show me your boobs."

I was on Tinder a year ago, if you remember, for a week.  I laughed most of the time, got some great writing material, didn’t take it seriously, but in the midst of my laughter, I did make a couple of male “pen pals.” What I mean by this is that I found no reason to actually end up meeting them in person, we friended each other on Facebook, and shot a few texts back and forth. 

Now what I am about to say shouldn't be shocking because we know all about Tinder.  But believe it or not, you run into these situations regardless of where you meet a person. 

I haven’t talked to this one guy for a year because he blew it with me pretty much immediately.  He FaceTimed me when I said I was in bed.  He was obviously hoping I was naked. Instead, he found me in a pitch-black room.  I was cackling to myself because I am evil like that and I thought it was funny that I was in the dark and he couldn’t see anything.  I thought he was a disrespectful, desperate douche bag and I was no longer interested in giving him a chance.  Here’s the thing…I haven’t met you.  You have never bought me dinner.  You haven’t opened a door for me.  But I am going to FaceTime you naked? Come on now, douche bag.  Anyway, he randomly texted me last week.  I was polite.  Hi, how are you, thanks for asking….big mistake.  I was still not interested because of the FaceTime thing, plus he had stupid, cheap looking tattoos.  How did I know? Because HE was shirtless when he FaceTimed me.  So this past Friday, he asked me what I was doing on Saturday.  I said “Going to a Mardi Gras themed birthday party.”  He told me not to show my boobs to anyone and only he could see them.  SERIOUSLY?????  Come on!!! Who says that???

What the hell is wrong with people?

Here’s what I wanted to say to this guy:

1.)   I have never met you.
2.)   I can show my boobs to whomever I want because I don’t have a boyfriend and it sure as hell isn’t you. 
3.)   I am not the type that goes around showing my boobs to people even when I am “allowed.”
4.)   You’re disgusting. 
5.)   Your tattoos are lame.

I am just repulsed by these kinds of guys.  I wish I could say that he is the first man to talk to me like that, but he isn’t.  It’s almost like some men assume that all women want ridiculous amounts of attention and commitment, or maybe they fake it thinking that’s what you want and then once they sleep with you they disappear? I don’t know because it doesn’t work on me.

If I had to choose between dating in the year 2016 or kissing lepers like Mother Theresa, I would take leprosy.  Luckily I can just enjoy my life and be single and write blogs about the guys who disrespect and annoy me. 

I am so over it.  I just want to put a big sign on my face saying “I murder people” just so I will be left alone. 

Thursday, January 28, 2016

Just a Leaf

Again, I pulled from my book "642 Things to Write About."  The prompt was "Write about a tree from the point of view of one of its leaves."

Here's what I got:

Curious Leaf. 

I can't wait until fall.  I hear about it, but I am not sure it even exists.  I only know of one season since I was just a young bud on my branch and therefore so much of my life is pondering whether or not this season is real.  The tree says to have faith, I will meet the fall.  He says he's seen things I haven't, but I'm not so sure.  How can I believe in something I have never witnessed myself?  He says I will prefer the season I am in right now, but that's hard to believe.  I am plagued with the mundane and crave excitement! 

If there is another season, I can't wait.  Every day, I am irritated by the leaves closest to me.  They all seem so unified and content to be where they are.  They believe the tree about the seasons and how they change.  I ask them how and why they just believe, but they don't have a logical answer, which makes me feel confused and alone.  I am not like the other leaves. I am tired of the same colors around me, they rejoice in them.  And I am bored of seeing the same patch of sky, they honor it.  I want to see the sun and moon from a different place, it's like they don't wonder what else is out there.  I just don't want to be here anymore.  Plus, if I have to hear one more stupid joke about nuts from the leaf next to me, you know, the leaf who has a big brown spot on his face? I am going to go insane. 

Every day I beg the tree to ask the sky for a nice breeze to take me away so I can get away from these chattering, quivering, petals. All they do is sing about the sunshine and praise the rain.  And every day, the tree tells me to appreciate the season I am in, that one day things will be different.  He says soon it will be cold and I will die and I will be wishing for the greener days that are upon me in the present. Hmphhh.  Ok, tree.  

The other leaves call him the Giver of Life, which I suppose quite literally, he is.  But he's also 300 years old.  What does he know about being a leaf? He's a tree.  He has roots that don't allow him to move.  He is just stuck in his ways, the same way he is stuck in the ground.  I want to fly!  I want to fly far away from here!  He doesn't know how I feel up here, stuck in this hell, stuck on a branch.  A tree can't relate to a leaf, no matter how hard he tries.  He says he knows what's best for me.  And then I am annoyed.  I want everyone to leave me alone while I wait.  


I began to turn orange, which was exciting.  I had never seen such vibrant, different colors.  But it did not last long, just as the tree had said.  One time he said youth is wasted on the young and I believed at the time that he was just mad at his bark because it was so wrinkly and course.  But as the days started getting colder and colder, I too began to look brown and ugly and I began to understand the tree. It seemed as if the tree had been telling the truth about it all, but I was too proud to tell him.  Instead, I told him I loved the color brown and that it suited me.  

Then one night,  the wind blew so hard, I heard a snap.  Before I could register what was happening,  I felt myself soaring through the air with the wind under my belly, which was lovely.  But it did not last long.  The wind had had enough and down I came, never to be carried by the wind again.  I have been raked over and over again and blown from here to there with no power over myself.  I miss the old tree.  I miss the leaves who have all been scattered in the wind.  I can't fly because I am dependent on a breeze and I have no branch to anchor me to safety.  I am stuck.  The old tree was right.  I should have appreciated the green season.  I should have appreciated the rain, feeling the wind on my face, and the sun and the moon.  I should have believed that the season would one day change.  

Youth is most definitely wasted on the young. 

Sunday, January 24, 2016

A Love Letter to Someone You Hate

My sister-in-law bought me this book for Christmas and I am so excited to start pulling from it.  I’ve been lucky for the most part and rarely experience writer’s block because I always seem to have something to say, even if it’s not important, which is irritating or superfluous to others at times, I am sure.  But even though I am rarely at a loss for words, I haven’t been writing at all and it’s because I have been reading a lot at night.   I realize and have possibly accepted (at least this month) that there is only enough time in my packed-full days to choose between the two. 

Laziness is so confusing to me.  Sure, I realize that not everyone is the same, but I do genuinely wonder how someone can stand being lazy when there are thousands of things to do before you die and no matter how motivated and busy and energetic you are, you still will never get to do them because of the time constraint.  I could live until I am 100 and still never come close to doing everything I ever want to do. This is actually a huge issue and struggle for me and it’s part of my New Year’s Resolution to try to just enjoy what I experience, choose between things without guilt, focus, and stop being such a perfectionist all the time, so I am sure I will be writing about it more. 

Anyway, I thought it would be fun to choose one of these 642 things to write about today since I am snowed in and have already read two books.  The first topic I chose was  “Write a love letter to someone you hate.” Muahahahaha!!!  Intriguing, except there is just one problem—I don’t hate anyone, honestly.  I dislike some people.  I am indifferent with some people.  But I don’t hate anyone.  So instead, I imagined what I would say if I were someone I love and was writing to the person who hurt them. I am usually more angry when someone I love is hurt rather than if it happens to me anyway. 

So here’s what I came up with…..

Dear Incredibly Talented Asshole,

It is amazing how beautifully you have perfected your tendencies to be a selfish, indecent person.  I want to applaud your ability to manipulate so meticulously, the will in which you must have in order to do it, and the speed at which you are able to throw yourself into a complete state of denial about how you make other people feel and how horrible your actions are.  I really must get some tips on how you sleep at night.  Ambien?  Melatonin?  Please share!!!  J  I want to tell you that I am in awe that you can wake up and look at yourself in the mirror knowing what your motives are.  It is truly one of the wonders of the world that no one has run over you with their car on purpose or by accident and because of your existence, I am a firm believer that karma is not a real force in the universe that you so blatantly shit on on the reg.  So thank you for clearing that up for me!!

Remember that time that you thought you could make yourself feel better by making me feel like nothing?  I want to tell you that I am thankful that you made me a better, stronger person and that in the end, I’ve got nothing but love for the entire crappy experience I had with you.  Thank you for being so despicable toward me that not even the sneaky, lying, trickster we refer to as nostalgia, can distort my memories of you.  Remember all the times that you left me not only high and dry, but also confused and crying and scared?  Remember putting me through the spin cycle?  Thank you for every single time that you hurt me and made me feel weak!  I am stronger today! 

I realize that I am being a tad bit passive aggressive right now because I do have some emotion left.  I have like .000009% craps to give left in my pocket and I do honestly apologize for that .000009%.  But this love letter is the last straw.  As soon as it’s mailed, I will never think of the stupid, illogical points you always seem to make in an argument…with EVERYONE.  I will never think about your annoying hats that I disregarded because I truly loved you and because love is as blind as Helen Keller was.  I won’t even remember the time you crapped your pants at Walmart and had to buy some $5 pants just to get home.  I won’t think about how much I hated when you said you read a book and in reality, you read 20 pages out of 300.  That isn’t reading a book, just so you know. It’s super annoying to me. AND FOR THE RECORD….the phrase is DENIAL IS NOT JUST A RIVER IN EGYPT.  NOT THE NILE!  You sound like an idiot and if you ever want a girlfriend, this should be corrected ASAP.  Finally, I want you to know that although I will never again think of you and feel any kind of emotion simultaneously, I will always have the strength that I gained from the marks you left on me.  And for that, you will always be remembered, Incredibly Talented Asshole. 

With Love,


P.S.  And stop singing Oasis like Oasis.  Wonderwall doesn’t have to be impersonated. 

Friday, December 18, 2015

Jingle Ball

I had a panic attack at a Justin Beiber concert last night. 

Yes, I just said that.

I took my daughter and her friend because I love her very much and I am accustomed to doing things that I don’t particularly like to do because I want her to be happy and healthy.  All mothers who love their children are.  I got fat when I was pregnant.  I had a needle stuck in my spine and went through a scary surgery.  I changed a thousand dirty diapers and wiped snotty noses.  I went to a Beiber concert.  As a mother, you don’t think twice.  

I kind of knew I wasn’t going to particularly enjoy a concert that included Nick Jonas and like 5 other people I have never heard of, but what I wasn’t expecting is that I would walk in and feel like I was going to die.  We were very very high in Philip’s arena and it dawned on me that I have only been in the box when I have gone to Hawk’s games, so I had no idea what it felt like to be so high on such a steep mountain of people.   I have never been afraid of heights, but for whatever reason, this terrified me.  I started getting dizzy and nauseous and couldn’t breathe and the show hadn’t even started.  I was walking to my seat as if I were on the edge of a cliff because it felt gravity was pulling me into the giant pit.  I was the only person sitting down and looking like I was going to die.  Lindsey had a great time.  Her friend had a great time.  I looked really old and miserable.  

It was 4 HOURS LONG, so by the time Beiber came on stage, I really was ecstatic to see him because I knew it was almost over.  I almost cheered for Beiber.  I really almost did.   

I saw tons of alcohol being sold when I first walked into the arena and I thought “That’s really odd.  I guess the booze are sold for our sanity?”  Then I wondered how many parents might be driving their kids home under the influence. But by the time Beiber was on stage, I realized that adults WITHOUT children surrounded me.  That fact really sunk in after the older, dancing, drunken woman who was just above me slung her beer….all over my head. 

To see Lindsey that happy and excited, even for just a moment in her life, made the claustrophobia, the fear of falling, the loud, unrelenting teenage shrieks, the bad music, the horrific lyrics, the beer....on my head....totally worth it.