What's new and exciting with you?

I am going to start avoiding public places where I run the risk of running into old family friends, simply so I can avoid the question “what’s new with you, married, kids?”

I am 24, and not a, I got my shit together 24, more of a, oh she is still finding herself, 24. I specialized in booze and shopping for the greater part of my early 20’s, I had little to no desire to make it to my 8 am lecture in college because I had been up till 4 in the morning partying. I had no desire to marry the catastrophically wrong guy for me in my early 20’s, I understood birth control so there wasn’t a surprise baby and I wasn’t in a rush to find a unsatisfying career that would result in me waking up at 40 with a job I hate because society deemed it necessary that I picked a career path at 18.

 Am I in a better place because of those choice? No, I am not, just a different place, I live in my parents basement, spend my Friday nights hoping a guy just as catastrophically wrong for me shows me some kind of interest, and I can sing every word to every Taylor Swift song...and I have choreographed dances to the majority of them.

Still, I feel like just assuming that because most of my peers have had some kind of accomplishment in their lives it is not okay to assume that all of us have. So asking the question “what’s new” is totally acceptable, assuming that I have made some great accomplishment by 24, like making a human being with my genitals, is not an okay postscript to the question what’s new. When I ask you, older family friend lady, what’s new with you, I don’t end the sentence with “how was menopause, those hot flashes are a bitch eh?” You know why I don’t ask that, because it’s fucking rude and I do have a small amount of couth.

29, this is the appropriate age where it’s alright to ask those questions, are you married , do you have kids, until then you just ask me how I am doing and I will reply with some kind of societal mainstream response. Chances are if I have spend a massive amount of money on one day, I will tell you, the chances are even higher, if I’ve made a human being, I will tell you.

 You may be asking yourself why 29? To you I say, thank you for indulging me and letting me continue on this rant.

29, that is the average age women of Canada get married. So, if at 29 you feel the need to ask me if I am married, I will accept it and probably still reply with the same answer I did last night, “HA! I can barely get a second date from a guy, baby steps.” Which, in case you were wondering, is not a funny response and tends to lean to more awkward.

29 also happened to be the average age women choose to bare children, not 24. You know what average is for 24 year olds, having 510 friends on Facebook, and I am close to that, so I feel a small sense of normalcy and accomplishment.

I'm sorry I mentioned it

Jenna and I took a road trip to go get bridal lingerie last week, on our way back she asked me that if enough time passed would I consider getting back together with Kermit. She pointed out how well we worked together for so long, and how much I cared for him and how bad dating has been for me since him, really it's been horrible. After I was done hysterically laughing and then crying I replied with no, more like fuck no but you get what I am sayin. Kermit and I really tried to make a friendship work after our breakup, I really wanted a friendship to work, there was just one problem, somewhere between the end of our relationship and now he has turned into a complete douche bag. Have you ever tried to be friends with a complete douche bag? It’s hard isn’t it.

 Which leads me to last Friday, after having possibly the most crap filled week I received news that an old co-worker died. I worked with him when I worked with Kermit so I thought I would let Kermit know, in case you know, he decided to stop being an arrogant prick, turns out he hasn't so that's great.

 

 You know the saying though, once an arrogant prick, always an arrogant. He asked how I was doing, I said absolutely horrible, my week is shit, I got the boot for my “roommates” and there has been a pile of stress lately. Wrong thing to say, you know what you say when your ex boyfriend asks how you are doing? You say good. And you run. Otherwise you get some not needed pep talk about how you need to look at things positively and you are just whiny. Great. Have you been around lately? No, it's been shit, there isn't a whole lot to be positive about. Thanks for adding to my great week, you sure know how to make a girl feel better. I texted back and say, alright have a nice day this is why we don’t talk anymore. He texted me my give-a-fuck meter is right out so I left it.

 

Fast forward to Saturday night when I am having drinks at Melvins, (don't ask) I get a text from Mike

 

"Kermit asked me for your number, which is weird because I didn't give him mine"

 

"well...he probably got it on a bathroom stall. He has my number though, I just talked to him Friday."

 

That's weird right? Why, do not text my friends, you lost those in the divorce, you got all the furniture, I got my friends. Maybe if you weren't an arrogant prick you could have your own, as it stands, they are mine, back off.

 When I first met Kermit he was the nicest, most understanding guy I had ever met, that is what I liked about him, he listened and he cared, over time that person faded, since breaking up that person has flown to never ever land never to be seen again and this new cocky jackass has stepped in to take his place. Let me tell you a secret folks, he is not all that and a bag of potatoes chips, I dated the guy I know, he’s wasn’t some amazing catch that I stumbled on and luckily kept.  No, he was weird and dorky but he cared about people. You know what has changed since we’ve broke up? The amount on his pay cheques. That does not give a person reason to turn into an egotistical dickhead yet somehow it always seems to have that affect.

 So that friendship has dissolved, so I retract any statement that I have previously made that ex’s can be friends, they can’t, they can be civil.

Why your 30's are not your new 20's

Somewhere in the great sands of time a monumental switch was made, a switch that affects you and me, basically every young adult. A switch was made in society, at least North American society that proclaimed to 20 some things everywhere that we have time! Time to travel, time to be picky, time to party, time to make mistake, and once 30 hits you will have made your mistakes and the pieces of your life with magically fall into place. I have a girlfriend who’s whole mantra is based on that idea, we are young and don’t want to wake up at 30 full of regret that we never did all the things we wanted too.

But society can’t fool me, I know your secret.  I don’t have endless time to gallivant and make mistakes, I turn 24 on Friday and have very….very….very little to show for it. Multiple failed relationships, an almost education, a dog, a room in my parents basement, that is what I have at 24. So society, excuse me while I drop kick you in the throat for telling me that I have time and that the pieces will magically fall into place. You might be sitting there saying “no Justine, you do have time! You are 24 years old, you are young!” To you I say, you are part of my problem and stop it. I know I am young, I know I have “time” but where you are wrong is that my 20’s are going to shape the rest of my life. I even have proof.

I watch this video from Ted Talks the other night, I told you I am painfully single and have a lot of time on my hands, so, so painfully single; the video was titled Why 30 is not the new 20, ya, if that doesn’t scare the shit out of you get the fuck (ya, that word is necessary) out of this blog because that is downright terrifying. Meg Jay is a psychologist, who specializes in 20 some things, anxiety filled, panicking 20 some things, just like me!  I am slightly comforted in the fact that this lady was able to make a whole career out of people like me, I don’t know if that is really a comforting statement, but I’m taking what I can get at this point in my life.  

After I watched the video I had a full on, lie on the bed, curled up in a ball, while breathing into a paper bag, crying panic attack; she confirmed every single fear I have...that yes, your 20’s are influential times in not only your career and relationships but basically your whole life, and pardon me while I paraphrase,  your 20’s shape your whole fucking life; if my life turns out like my 20’s thus far it will be a horrible blend of bad relationships where I “fix” his problems and suppress mine, bad office jobs and happy hour specials at dive bars, not exactly what I have pictured for my future. You know what good has come out of my 20’s? I’ve harnessed my ability to get ready for work in less than 10 minutes that is my greatest accomplishment thus far…not that that isn’t some serious talent. But my constant fear of messing up my future is warranted.

 I vividly remember Carrie Bradshaw telling me that “my 20’s are to have fun, your 30’s are to learn your lessons, and your 40’s are to pay for the drinks.” Carrie Bradshaw is never wrong, she fixed the unfixable man, worked for Vogue, sold books all over the world and basically did it all while rocking 5 inch stiletto’s and designer bags; never mind the fact that she is a fictional character, what have you done Meg? Can’t I follow Carrie’s advice, it makes me feel better about my questionable life choices to this point, I am having fun, I am making mistakes, I am doing things that society tells me it’s okay to do, because I have time! You Meg, add fuel to my anxiety filled fire while Carrie gives justification to my questionable life choices.

See my solution to this fear is just do nothing and wait for it suddenly all click, right, that’s what happens in movies, something happens and the pessimistic, lost, main character has an epiphany and bam, she finds love, gets promoted, basically just lives happily ever after, so that’s what I’ve been waiting  for, my epiphany. So I’ve been procrastinating, restrain my fears and doing nothing. That is apparently the wrong thing to do, at least according to Meg. By doing nothing I am not investing in myself, I am not “in control” of my future, basically unless I work to change it, it won’t change. Which to you may seem like a trivial idea, but I went to months of therapy for that, but even after Amy Poheler I never really knew what the next step was so I just never took a step. I don’t feel like I am alone in that either, I mean, obviously I am not if this lady can make a whole career out of it.

I was discussing this with Abby the other night and she told me about her random subway run in with a lady, the lady told her, “I am 35 years old, I have a beautiful daughter, a divorce and I am renting an apartment because my ex husband left me with very little, but what he can’t take away from me, what no one can take away from me is my education.” What a tragic yet liberating statement. Tragic in the sense that at 35 your whole life can be taken away, liberating in that she spent her 20’s working for something that no one can take away from her…and that is the pride that she accomplished something on her own, by herself and it can never be seized from her. 

So where does the problem lie? For me, I blame the myth that society gives us that we have time and that pieces will magically fall into place. That we can waste our twenties and find a career in our 30’s, find a relationship, find ourselves, in our 30’s.

 I turn 24 in two days and not one thing has fallen into place for me, if anything the constant suppressing of my future to aid others has set me back. My lack of boundaries when it comes to self sacrifice for others has only hindered me. If we look at my past relationship history there is one common factor, I will fall hopelessly and madly fall in love with you, if there is a way I can fix you.

Obviously, for 20 something women relationships seem to consume a lot of our thoughts, will I find love, why doesn’t he love me, why isn’t he the man I want him to be, why am I alone, the questions of relationships and love seem to be a main theme for women in their 20’s, in and out of relationships.  Maybe because our biological clock is ticking away, maybe because we have more a primitive desire to find a mate and well...reproduce...for whatever reason, women tend to obsess over the need to find a mate more than most males. Males seem to find this need somewhere in the 30’s. So when she brought up dating, we all really shouldn’t be shocked, it’s a huge part of our 20’s. Meg, that magically lady, compares dating in your 20’s to musical chairs, you are having fun, dancing around to the music all through your 20’s then the one day the music stops, all your friends start getting married, having kids, settling down, and you are left standing, so you grab the closest chair, is doesn’t matter if it’s the right chair, you just grab it, because you don’t want to be left standing alone. I looked around at all the relationships around me and I judged, yep...I did. Sorry friends, but it’s safe to say I think the majority of you just grab a freaking chair, you spend more time complaining about these relationships than enjoying them, and really...while your 20’s seem to be flying by does that really merit hanging onto something that is not right for you, something that you spend more time complaining about than enjoying.

When  I left Kermit I heard a lot how proud people where of me, how strong I was, when people said  this I wanted to slap them across the face, you are proud of me for leaving a bad relationship? That left me spending more time unhappy than happy? That’s not something to be proud of that is something that should be common. Why do we have the constant need to settle? The fear of being alone out weights the fear of being with someone who treats you like you are disposable I guess.  I don’t understand peoples need to stay with cheating partners, physical and emotional, I don’t understand peoples need to return to broken relationships just to have the same problems constantly reoccur. You have options, yes, it hurts to break up, go back and read the sixty days I spent crying, in a therapy, and a fucking emotional mess, but I am living without him even when I thought I wouldn’t, I am doing okay, and I left someone who didn’t treat me how I deserve to be treated.

I am not saying that you should leave the relationship after the first time he pisses you off; I am obviously talking about leaving relationships that warrant it.  But it’s the same situation as the career, if you don’t take the first step to the future you want you are left stuck. And I’ll be damned if I am left stuck with a person who has stopped making me happy.

There is more to just leaving the broken relationship, it’s the aftermath that I know I personally struggle with, that I see most people struggle with, it’s the ability to let history repeat itself. Allowing yourself to make the same mistakes and not learn, that is where the settling for the last chair really sets in; with your career or relationship.

I think there needs to be a shift in societal views that time is disposable, especially in your 20’s and you have your 30’s to discover and learn from all the mistakes you’ve made.  Mistakes will be made in your 20’s but it’s the process of learning from them to ensure you have a future that you are taking control of, be it with your career, your relationship, or just life in general. Your 30’s are not your new 20’s, your 20’s dictate a great portion of your future, and it’s a terrifying and liberating feeling to accept that. I don’t know about you but waking up in 30’s and realizing I’m still in the same place I was in my 20’s is the most terrifying idea, that I haven’t grown, that I still feel stuck, that I am inevitably at a bad office job that gives me zero satisfaction. That’s my deep thought for today, on that note, it’s my birthday tomorrow and I am gonna get all wastey pants and celebrate how far I haven’t come in the last 4 years of my 20’s and hope that the lessons I’ve learned from the last year will help me towards a future I want.

Nagging bitches and lazy men

I’ve been horrible lately about posting in here, I used to read peoples blogs and hate when they would say that; I think uhhh I have so much to say I could always write something! Ya, no, it’s not that I’ve been busy, it’s not that I’ve been taken a hold of in a world wind of romance, no, I’ve just been boring and Coupon Queen has fully lost her mind, but I am under strict instruction that I cannot write about that, at least until the whole situation has defused and she isn’t bonkers anymore. You may be waiting a while for that story.

I don’t have boys to complain about, because I’ve stopped obsessing over Melvin, he comes around every now and then; I just don’t care if he comes or goes, wish I could have had this attitude months ago instead of obsessing over every move.

But what I really want to tell you about how in less than 5 hours I will be making my way out to Gibbons, to go to BOONSTOCK! I’ve gone to music festivals before but the difference this time is that I’ve always gone with a group of girls, girls that plan matching outfits, meals, drinks, everything down to what underwear we will be wearing. This year…I am going with Mike and another guy friend…the difference between men and women is unparalleled. I started asking a month ago if we could get things planned out, they told me not to worry, that we would plan it closer to the date. Of course days past, weeks went by, and no one gave a shit that I was in full fledge panic mode because we hadn’t so much as planned what we were going to sleep in, let alone outfits. Let me tell you that up until Monday, my plan was to find a boy, kick him out of his tent, and sleep there, because that was the best idea I could come up with and no one else knew what was going on either!

 

 While over at Melvin’s last week I stated that I was stressed because out of the two other people I was going with, one was at EDC in Vegas and the other was away working, so we hadn’t planned anything. He said, what do you need to plan? Get food and booze and the rest will be fine. That seems to be the general attitude of men, meh it will work itself out, it will be fine, and we’ll figure it out as we go.  As a list lover, female and a planner, I can tell you I do not share that attitude. I need plans and back up plans, and these men had zero sympathy for my needs. Of course, typical male.

Women are by nature I think, naggers, because of our constant need to mother and take of things and people and ensure things turn out perfectly, men let us nag and panic, and they ignore us when we get into that mode, because they’re attitude is, meh it will work out. Think about weddings, women take on average a year to plan one day, in general most men would take a month to plan a wedding, tops, they would call their buddy up, say "hey man, I'm getting married, come get drunk and see me get married! I got the beer, you bring the steaks!" And they wouldn't worry about RSVP's, dresses, alteration, center pieces, nope none of it. Women will spend a year panicking over every detail, nagging to the grooms men about getting their tuxes and men will continue to put it off until they are ready. Women will yell and scream and not understand how he says he is busy so he can't go get his tux but really he is just going fishing and why isn't he worried that we wont have it done in time! Because men are not planners, they don't really think about the time and effort and the deadlines, that's what they have us for. We nag and push and they do it in their own time, and things will be what they will be.

 

 Trust me ladies, I tried with Boonstock to be easy going, to just let it play out, I cannot. Do you know how many fucking lists I’ve made in the last week trying to make up for the fact that the last month I have not made one list pertaining to Boonstock, 11, 11 fucking lists and I still don’t feel like I have enough outfits, or enough of this or I think I forgot that, and I’m still worried that I won’t have any where to plug my curling iron in…but it will work out and hopefully I make it back alive! Pray to Allah for my liver.

 

 

So my point? There probably isn't any use in nagging, in panicking, because it will be what it will be, but maybe men can take a lesson from us too? That maybe a plan before the last minute would help ease the stress just a little.

 

 

The friend zone

I’m so glad we are friends, you are such a great guy, you are going to make some girl super happy some day, I’m here for you as a friend, I’d really like to take some time and focus on myself and be single for a while; all sentences that you my dear male friend, have entered into the friend ship zone. Don’t...just don’t even think that you still have a chance to get out of the friendship zone once any of those words have been uttered, because that means that there isn’t a chance, zip, zero, zilch, nada, none.

As women we don’t like to reject men, no well, that’s not true, we have no problem rejecting the creepy guy at the bar, but men that have made an effort to be part of our lives, men that make us feel good, we don’t want to get rid of you, woman hold onto broken things, things that won’t work,  we have a hard time throwing things out, why else do you think I have clothes that I haven’t worn in years  that I just can’t bring myself to throw away...because eventually I may need them. Will I ever wear those shoes with the broken strap? Will I ever wear that shirt that was too small 4 years ago? Probably not, but I like to have the option that I could wear them. Same goes with men. We like to have options, to ease the blow of being rejected from other men, to comfort us on lonely nights, and give us an ego boost on our fat days. We keep you around, as a friend.  

When I was doing extensive research for this, men seem to offer advice on why and how you got to this point, that advice? You are in the friend zone because you didn’t try to be anywhere else, this advice is bullshit. You aren’t there because this girl had no idea you had feelings for her, she knows, that’s why she has said “I am so glad we can be friends,” she is looking for a way to make sure you know you are in the friend zone but she wants to keep you around. Trust me, have I ever said to Melvin “I am so glad we are friends!” No. Never, because I don’t want to be his friend, so I am not going to outline that we are. Have I said to Kermit (post breakup) that I am glad we are friends, yes, because I don’t want to date him but I like him as a friend. So men you don’t need to grab a set of balls and ask her out on a date, you don’t need to try to kiss her, it’s too late, she has made her mind up that she is just your friend and you will never get to her Treasure Island.

Men also have the idea it’s because women are just attracted to assholes and you are the nice guy. Listen, of course you are nice, you want to get to her Treasure Island, you are going to bring her lunch, listen to her problems, pick her up from the bar after a few too many drinks, you are going to do whatever you can to help you get there, and once she picks some asshole (not you) you will blame women everywhere for liking assholes. Women don’t actively seek assholes; we don’t subconsciously like the arrogant pig that is going to make us cry, men just do stupid shit sometimes and guess what you are the person she turns to when that guy does stupid shit because you are her friend, so of course you hear about all the asshole things he does, he is a man, you all do asshole things and we are women, we are a little sensitive so we vent and we cry and we blow things out of proportion. It has nothing to do with you being a nice guy, that’s probably one of the only reasons you are still around, but a long time ago she put you in her not datable list, maybe she doesn’t like your arm pit hair, maybe she doesn’t like your sense of humour, maybe she thinks you would be a project, for whatever reason, you aren’t datable to her. You can’t change how she feels which is unfortunate because I tried dating the guy I put in the friend zone once, he did what those other guys writing dating advice columns told him to do, he made a move and it worked but not because I had feelings for him, but because I felt bad...like I didn’t want to hurt him because he was my friend, but in the end I couldn’t change that I just wasn’t into him and we broke up, and weren’t friends any more. Did he find someone who loved him, who appreciated more than I ever could all the sweet and nice things he does? Of course, he was a great guy, that’s why I wanted him as a friend, but was that person me? No, it wasn’t and he, in all honesty, wasted six months trying to date me when I was just never that into it.

There is no better way to say it than...unreciprocated feelings suck, even worse when the friendship is a stake, you can either suck it up and just be her friend and watch and she dates other guys, or you can end the friendship and move on to another girl. But you will always just be her friend

 But am I some kind of dating expert, no? I didn’t even finish my last college course, I am an idiot when it comes to my own love life, but I can say without question, that there have been guys that I have strung along and said that I just wanted to be friends because I enjoyed their company on lonely nights. So my advice to the guys who are currently in love with a girl who is “so happy the two of you are such good friends,” either move on or be okay with just being friends but you can’t expect her to change how she feels just because you want her to.

I think I'm onto something here

I ran into an old friend last week when I was leaving some friends apartment, it’s one of those situation where we’ve said a million times that we should get together then it just never happens, not because you don’t like the person but because you have very different, very busy lives and you just don’t make seeing that person a priority in your life anymore.  When I was leaving the elevator she was walking in, so we decided to go upstairs and have a drink together and catch up.

She used to be one of my best friends, I’ve talked about the girls I was close with before, these girls where my life, through boyfriends, breaks ups, fights, drunk nights, parents divorcing, pregnancy, everything, they were more my sisters than friends. Sadly things change and after a fight with one girl things just weren’t repairable and I lost a group of girlfriends that meant the world to me. But just because our friendship didn’t last doesn’t mean I don’t wish them the best. I think that people assume that just because a relationship, of any kind, fails it means that you can’t still hope the best for someone and look back and remember all the memories you created with affection. A lot of the time after a failed relationships you look back and only have negative feelings for the person, after all it’s easier to look back and have negative feelings than positive ones that leave you missing that relationship. If you let yourself miss the memories you created often you don’t know the difference between missing the person and missing the memories, there is a difference, a very narrow difference but a difference none the less.

While we were sitting and talking the inevitable question came up, “don’t you miss hanging out with us, we miss you.” It was the first time since letting go of all the negative feelings towards them I’d ask myself that question; did I miss hanging out with them? No...I didn’t, I miss the memories we created, but those were events, not the actual people. Missing the actual person though, no, I am happy with where I am now. I feel extremely blessed to have such amazing people in my life now, and I really do, the friendships I have now are different, not better or worse, just different. Do I still want happiness for the girls that helped make me the person I am today, absolutely, but do I want to try to fix what is broken, no, I don’t need to fix what is broken when I have amazing relationships that are not broken. It’s a harsh reality, how could I not want to try and salvage the relationships that once meant so much to me? Because at the end of the day, I have relationships now that aren’t broken, that are constructive and positive and that is where I want to focus my energy.

I thought about my feelings towards Kermit, they are kind of the same, there was a time when I was mad, hurt, angry, and felt defeated by the deterioration of our relationship, I felt like once they were gone, I had nothing. Maybe it’s not healthy to let people have so much of you, but that’s how I love, I will give you all of me, everything, without boundaries, so if the relationship fails I’m left with the feelings of defeat, like I’ve failed because I couldn’t salvage the relationship. Somewhere after my break up Kermit I learned how to deal with those feelings more positively, I learned to let go and realize that because you couldn’t salvage the broken relationship doesn’t mean you’ve failed or that you are left with nothing. Sometimes relationships will fail, it’s inevitable, but just because the relationship failed it doesn’t discount the memories you created with them, so cherish those memories, look back and smile and remember the people you created them with because those were the people who helped make you who you are today. And if you can look back on those memories with fondness instead of longing, I think it means you’ve let go...fully let go. So I’ll always be thankful for those girls, I will always cherish the time we spent together, the road trips, the adventures, the bad choices that lead to the best nights, the tears we shed over the boys we don’t remember, the late night talks, the nights spent dancing till the sun came up, every inside joke, I will remember the times we laughed till we cried, and everything in between, because some of my best years were spent with them...but things change and sometimes you just have to let go and smile.

The Unknown

No one really seems to give you any warning into how hard your early twenties are, that’s how this whole blog started, because I was lost (see title “lost and perplex” I am both of those), I am lost, probably more so than I was when I started this blog, the only difference is I’ve learned to cope with it the impending doom you feel in your twenties because nothing is going as planned.

At least 6 months ago, I was sure I was with the man I wanted to marry and I was very excited and certain that I wanted to start planning weddings...for the whole world. I could give you a million facts about weddings, tell you the trends and everything right and wrong about peoples weddings. As of today, I am glad, so glad that things didn’t work out with Kermit. As for the wedding planning, there is something about having your heart broken that makes you rethink the idea of planning a wedding when you think love is a sham. From wedding planning I went to event planning but that would mean me leaving Shitville, and well, I like it here, I like having my family and friends close, I like the city and I’d like to stay here. So I am back at square one. That’s the thing about your early twenties, nothing even goes according to the plan you had at 18 or 20 or even yesterday. We can plan life out but you can’t plan the external factors, like getting into school even when you’ve given it everything you had in you, you can’t change that your relationship failed, you can’t change the fact that sometimes things just don’t work out the way you wanted too, no matter how good your plan was or how badly you wanted it to work. You can't take back choices you made, but you can learn from them and not make them twice, hopefully 

 

Or you can be like me and you just don’t have a plan and the plan you did have went to complete shit.

 

I never had an idea of what I wanted to do with my life other than make money and lots of it, that’s my goal, to have a lot of money. Money makes me happy. There are unrealistic ideas, things I’d be good at that just wouldn’t work out, like becoming famous the same way Snooki did then get a book deal and a clothing line. I could do that, my life is entertaining. Or have a talk show, like Chelsea Handler, not only does she have a midget but she drinks a lot and just makes fun of people and talks to them, both of those things I am good at, and I really like midgets and people generally like talking to me. My talk show would have more interruptive dance though, so it would be like if Chelsea and Ellen had a child, I would be that child. People have always had an easy time talking to me about their problems, it’s probably what I am best at, solving other people’s problems, ironic because I suck at solving my own. But they don’t just give people talk shows, I can just be like HEY EVERYONE! I’m on The View now! And sit my ass down to Whoppi Goldberg. But if I ever did I would ask her to sing a song from Sister Act with me.

 

How people decide what they want to do with THEIR WHOLE LIFE baffles me. Did they wake up one morning and go yep...I  would like to be a nurse and clean up blood and poop all day, or did they go nope poops not for me, let’s take accounting, I was good at math. The thing that stops me from settling is the idea that I have to do this for most of my adult life, if I am going to do something I want to be excited to go to work and not count down the days till I can take a holiday or dread going to work in the morning but whatever I choose I need to make a lot of money doing it. So basically I am still looking but you can’t just google cool jobs or fun jobs and find a match, I’ve tried. I’ve also taken many career tests, those don’t seem to point me in any direction either, they often tell me business or finance or accounting, I tried all of those, not for me. There are things that I look at and would think hey I could do that! Like a sex therapist, except I don’t really know what they do, but I can openly talk about sex and relationships and I enjoy it, I enjoy solving peoples relationships problems, but the whole going back to school for the next ten years scares the pants off of me. The speed that life passes you by is astonishing, it seems like you wait forever to turn 16 then 18 and then 21...after 21 life gets put on fast forward and you have no time to figure stuff out and all the time you thought you had is suddenly up and the daily reminders that you don’t have anything figured out from your friends on Facebook is just a knife to the spleen. They are getting married, having kids, buying houses, traveling the world, and I’m just sitting here like, check me and my bad ass office job out, is it the weekend yet so I can have a drink?

 

But then I remember we are in are twenties, those people who have it all figured out now probably don’t and if they do they seem to hit 40 and realize holy shit there was a whole list of things I never did, I got married too young, I had kids to young, I’ve worked at this job for my whole life and I hate it...life is crap that way. You don’t get all the answers, there isn’t a play book to let you know you are making the right or wrong choice, you can just make the best choice you can with the information you are given and occasionally we make the choice that isn’t the best for us or things don’t work out the way we wanted them too. But life goes on and we get over the bumps, the disappointment and the unknown becomes known and the disappointment turns into a learning experience. I’ve stopped worrying about my future, I’ve stopped talking a million career tests in hopes that they have the answer because at some point it will work out. At least it better. In the mean time if you want to tell me cool job ideas I’d be open to that or if you think you can get me a talk show that would also be cool.

 

My point is, your 20’s are hard, give yourself a break, give me a break. It’s a constant competition to see who will appear more successful, more together, more grown up, but there are those of us who are willing to stand up and say I don’t have it together, my dreams didn’t work out, I don’t have a plan for the future and that’s okay because you can’t plan your future. You just can’t. You can try and maybe it will work for a while, but that’s the fun part of life, it’s the adventure of the unknown.

Terrible Date Tuesday: Am I drunk yet?

I’m a talkative person, I can generally talk to anyone at any time, I have no problem walking up to strangers and talking to people, so maybe that’s why I hate people who are so quiet. What I hate even more are people who choose to do all their conversing through text message. I get that it is easier to be brave over text, you can hide behind your little cell phone or computer and be a chatty Kathy! It’s for that reason I really strongly feel that when it comes to dating your text conversation should be kept to a minimum. I feel like it makes an awkward situation when you can spend a week getting to know every detail of some ones pathetic life only to sit down and go on a date with them and have these awkward silences filled with not really knowing what to say or do. So how goes your brothers fight against genital heries that you felt the need to tell me about over text message? See...awkward.

Mchottie and I met in Mexico, in a drunken state mind you, but we did spend some time sober together. He was sweet and charming, not really all that funny, but he was alright. We could hold a conversation. I met up with him again when he was in Alberta for lacrosse provincials, then after Kermit and I broke up we began our month long, text and talk every day. I knew everything about him, we would spend hours talking on the phone, I would talk to him about Amy Pohler, life, and he would talk about work, lacrosse, different things he did on the weekend. Our conversations were similar to what couples talk about when they are trying to maintain a long distance relationship. I had low expectations of what would happen once I was there, I knew what I wanted, him to pay for me to go to Toronto (yep...I’m a gold digger, judge all you want), have a weekend with friends and drinks and that would be it, we would slowly taper off.

But once I got there everything just seemed wrong, he was arrogant, unlikeable, and bossy. The weekend as a whole was not good, there were good parts, but I just don’t think you can start the weekend off with is in my top 3 worst dinner dates and come back from that. He picked me up at the airport, we drove back to his house and got ready to go for dinner. I am not a jacket person, people always comment on it, but I just don’t like wearing them, never really have, so while leaving the house he said, go get your jacket. I am a grown ass women, if I wanted a jacket I would have grabbed one, I am not five please don’t talk to me like I am a child. I say I will be fine, he tells me he won’t leave until I grab one. OKAY DAD! I grab my jacket, we leave. He parks a million miles away, I guess it is Toronto, and we walk to the restaurant. I make a note that it’s colder in Toronto than it was in Red Deer. He looks at me and goes...ya...aren’t you glad I made you take your jacket. No I am not ass muncher! I would have been fine and if I was cold I wouldn’t have told you because I am stubborn like that. Automatically I am in a bad mood, but hunger probably had something to do with it, see I’d been flying all day so I had eaten a bagel on my way to the airport at about 7 in the morning. It was now 7 o’clock in Toronto. I am not one of those girls that doesn’t eat on the contraire, I eat, I like to eat, and that’s why I drag my ass to the gym every day, so I was hungry. We arrived at the restaurant at 7 o’clock on a Friday night, unless you are Kim K and Kayne or someone with the equivalent amount of fame you are going to be waiting to get at table. He starts saying how hungry he is, over and over and over again. No shit jack ass, we are both hungry, hence why we are going to eat, stop complaining. He starts commenting on which people are finished eating and not leaving their table in a timely manner, you’re right, they are sitting there enjoying each other’s company, which is exactly the opposite of what I am doing now.

We sit down and thus commences the awkward silence and the awkward, what are you getting...oh I’m not sure what are you getting, conversation. I hate that conversation, it's forced and just makes things feel uncomfortable, because you know if that comes up it usually means you have nothing better to talk about. We decide by the time the waiter comes around for drinks...well he decided and I was forced to make a fast decision because he was hungry. They bring out a starter salad shortly after that. I said starter salad, not some big salad that has all this stuff, it a small salad with lettuce and cucumbers. He finishes his quickly and I continue to eat mine, when I am about half way done MY STARTER SALAD, he looks at me and says...wow you were hungry, you are eating a lot. IT WAS A FUCKING STARTER SALAD!!!!!!! Every childhood memory of being called fat comes flashing through my mind, the time the girl didn’t invite me to her birthday because she didn’t want a fat kid to eat all her birthday cake, the time the boy didn’t like me because I was fat, the soccer coach who told me I’d be an amazing soccer player...if I could only lose 20 pounds, all those repressed memories of being the fat kid came flashing back. Our meal comes...I didn’t eat it. I couldn't I was sent back to that 10 year old version of myself, the one who was to scared to eat in front of people and was so self conscious she would wear a hoody every single day, even if it was 30 degrees out side. But I watched him eat his meal...all of...maybe you are the over eater fatty, and drank three glasses of wine in the mean time. So now I am a drunk, hungry, angry mess. 

Our conversation picked up once I started drinking more and we are talking about the mountains and how I love them, he says he went there once with another friend and two girls but they mostly just stayed in the hotel...yes...my friends...I am no idiot. He brought another girl to the mountains for a weekend and was choosing to talk about it in front of me. I didn't tell you about the time I went to the mountain with my ex boyfriend, I don't want to hear about your romantic weekend away either, but thanks.  He can tell I am about to rip his head off so he says lets change the topic. After I pointed out he brought up his weekend getaway I say I really don’t care because I am sure there were girls before me and there will be girls after me! Just like there were guys before him and there will be guys after. I have no filter; I have no ambition to be nice when I am tried, hungry and apparently an overeater. This starts our first fight. I am mean, I just have the ability to hold it in most of the time but not when I fight because I will cut you down in every way possible. But I have to spend a weekend with this man and I don't want him to go all Ted Bundy on me, so I just get up and leave in the middle of him getting mad at me and come back and say ready to go? I figured at that time it was my best option. We walk back to the car and he asks what I want to do...drink more so I can pretend to like you. Except I can't say that so I suggest we meet up with his friends for a drink because I'm not really tired. So upon arrival I made friends with one of his, and I drink. He was more pleasant, he was funny and actually carried a conversation with me, shocking concept I know. I could tell Mchottie was getting annoyed, I had just spent he last hour pleasantly ignoring him but letting him buy my drinks. Just what I wanted.

He drags me home at 12 and by that point I can almost tolerate him, thanks to my early choice to switch to hard alcohol, some times wine just doesn't cut it. That’s pretty much how my weekend went, get drunk so I like you...ahh I am sober...I HATE YOU MUST GET DRUNK!

That “date” night was definitely the top worst ones of my life, partly because he sucks, but a lot of it was because I knew that I had to spend the rest of the weekend with him so there wasn't an escape...the shocking part was, he said it went perfect...do men lie? Because the common thing about all horrible dates, is that the women is saying oh my god never again! While the man thinks it went awesome...oh dating...how awesome are thee

Conversation between my heart and my head & why I will be single forever

I give up on dating, men, and sex. I am going to become a nun, if they’ll take me...they probably won’t. They’ll take one look at my Facebook page and know that I am on the fast track to hell. Heaven help me if they take a look at the list of men I’ve slept with that sits on Dana’s fridge...they would drown me in holy water and that probably still wouldn’t save me from my sins.

Abby called me last night while I was wallowing in self pity. We talked about how useless we both are when it comes to dating, how pathetic it is to let one guy dictate so many of your feelings and how it is even more pathetic  when you are sure they don’t care. I am talking about Skippers brother...who’ve I’ve named Melvin. I pretty sure he just not that into me...but regardless...well I’ll let you read what went on in my head

Conversation between my head and my heart:

Heart: LETS TEXT MELVIN, I want to hang out with him! He’s probably sitting at home missing how awesome you are...

Head: You are an idiot heart, you are breaking the rules of your FWB (friends with benefits) relationship with Melvin, further more he isn’t at home waiting for you to text him, don’t be stupid. Put down your phone. He doesn’t like us.

Heart:...really...what is one simple text message going to do? It will be fine

Head: WHAT IS IT GOING TO DO!? THROW AWAY OUR DIGNITY! We’ve been over this if he wants to talk to us he would talk to us

Heart: Not true...maybe he just got so excited thinking about us he had a heart attack...you better text him to make sure he’s okay.

Head: Seriously heart...could you be any more stupid

Heart: That is completely logical, we are awesome. It’s a known fact that people have been known to have heart attacks from too much awesomeness exposure.

Head: Well we are awesome...

Heart: Yes...so just text him something


Head: YA! DO IT WE ARE AWESOME!

*sends text about need to find a midget friend to do funny things with?!?!?!*

Head: We are not awesome...we are idiots. We should have stopped when we still had dignity left.

Heart: ...maybe just sometimes we are awesome?

Head: No...no we aren’t...we are going to die alone with nothing but our tap shoes and once we reach a certain age we won’t be able to tap dance around the house anymore! ALL THE JOY HAS BEEN SUCKED OUT OF OUR LIFE!

Heart: ...ya okay. You’re right. But I think we are awesome brain...you know what would cheer us up?

Head: A bullet to the heart so I don’t get talked into stupid shit?

Heart: NO! We are going to turn on Tommy Tutone listen to that Jenny song and dance...that always makes you feel better

Head: I just don’t know if - *867-5309* YOU ARE RIGHT HEART THIS DOES MAKE ME FEEL BETTER


And I wonder why he doesn’t like me... I’d like to say that I made that up...but that is really how my night went...what can I say something about Tommy just really gets me going.

What have I done

I died my hair yesterday; it was suppose to be ombre, brown to blonde, I had four pictures and a detailed description for the lady because my normal hair dresser was out of town. The lady doing my hair was rather confused by the whole concept because I had hair extensions. Really she was just baffled by the concept that I needed it go from dark to light to lightest, so the hair extensions where going to have to be colored as well. It took me twenty minutes to explain what I wanted done and finally I just said, look if you don’t think you can do it just tell me now. She said she understood what I wanted and she could do it, so we went ahead. Mistake.  She was also confused that I didn’t want her to cut my hair and kept telling me that because I was taking my hair lighter it was going to break off. Lady you are an idiot do you think I am letting me near my head with a sharp object. Fuck no. Also, my hair didn't break off, fall out or die, shocking. Regardless, I am pretty sure that ombre stands for drunk Mexican because my very expensive hair now looks like a drunk Mexican colored it. I just wanted to be trendy like the Kardashians, I should have just shaved half my head, that would have been a better out come.

There is a reason why I stick to my 14 dollar box hair dye and I don’t care what you bitches say, I get complimented on my hair every time I go out in public...when it’s done. This new$200 hair experience is not good. The longer I look at it the worse it gets. I swear to be a hair dresser you have to be partially retarded, t-minus my usual girl. She is smart and should never take a holiday again and let me make bad choices.

Life lessons from the lady who sugars me ... your Valentines day present.

Well, today is the day of love. I am not in love, unless you count my love for my bed…and Bob... because I love my bed and I love Bob even more. Some people get bitter that they are single on Valentines day, I am happy to be single on this glorious day. Mostly because last year I was set up for disappointment when Kermit turned Valentines day into a week long guessing game. He gave me hints and I was suppose to guess what he got me. I got a Youtube link…ya. Imagine my disappointment. I was running all over town asking my friends for help with the hints, we were guessing diamonds, flowers, engagement rings, one girl even guessed a car. I got a fucking Youtube link. Any ways, that’s not my point today, because I do have one. But don’t you feel an overwhelming urge to send me flowers tomorrow to make up for last year? Ya? I have the best readers

I think that Valentines day was created by men so that they were guaranteed sex at least once a year from their wives, you know they probably struck out on their anniversary, probably forgot about their wives birthday and probably got to drunk on theirs. But Valentines day…aaahhh you have radio announcements, T.V commercials, Facebook status reminders…you can’t fuck this up…unless you are Kermit. He fucked it up.  Sure you may have to buy her flowers and dinner, but if you are a married man that is a small price to pay if you haven’t had your wiener touched by any thing other than your hand in ten months.

As women, in relationships, we understand that for the gifts, we generally have to put out. The excuse, I have a head ache, I am to tired, I don’t want to wake the kids, didn’t we just have sex 10 months ago and so on and so forth doesn’t work on this day. And as such, it is our womanly job to make sure that the jungle is tamed. Which involves either waxing, shaving or my personal favorite sugaring. And if you are a women who doesn’t at least trim the bushes go back to the 80’s, that’s the only time it was acceptable.

Ah the joys of being a women, hair removal is right up there with child birth, but guys that is why you pay for our dinner and diamonds, we have kids and wax are bins. Not seemingly fair if you ask me, but thus is life.

Now generally I am a shaver, why? Because you nosey assholes, I am not getting laid enough lately that it matters if I am always taken care of in that department. There was a point in time that  I was. So that meant every couple of months I had to make my way down to the little Asian girls and get sugared. For those of you who don’t know sugaring is kind of like waxing, except it doesn’t hurt as much, Asians do it instead of a lady named Elga and it’s more natural products. This is the only time you will here my say that the more natural (almost organic) way is better. You know my stance on organic shit near my lady parts and if you don’t go back and read about it here. I just did you ladies who still wax a favor, switch to sugaring.  Anyways, so this is story is about the first time I went to see my little Asian.

I had lived in Edmonton for a couple months and Kermit and I were going to Mexico, the last thing you want to do on vacation is shave your bin, that cuts into your drinking time, so I went and saw her. She brings me back into this little room passed all the ladies getting their nails done and I strip down, once I am in the room, just to be clear. Now I have junk in my truck especially if you compare me to this little Asian girl, but I really don’t care because I don’t have any deformities down there and well…it’s her job, she signed up for this, she wasn’t forced to remove hair from bins all day. So I am sitting on the table and they play that relaxing music, you know, because ripping hair around your asshole and sensitive lady parts is relaxing so they need the music to add to the calming mood, so I am listening to the soft babbling brooks and this lady strikes up a casual conversation. Do you know how hard it is to carry on a casual conversation with some one while your legs are spread on a table and she is molding the hot wax like products in her hands and you know the pain that is about to be inflicted on you? Not exactly my idea of a great time to discuss my life. Little Asian lady apparently thinks this is a great time though, so I play along. The conversation starts with where I work and how my day was and then she asks me if that was my boyfriend who came in with me, I tell her in fact it was. Well, in broken English she says

“you do dis for your boyfriend”

I inform her no, I do this because I just am to damn lazy to shave my bin on holidays and I’d rather be drinking than spend an extra ten minutes in the shower making sure my bikini line is ok. Ladies, she then gave me the best relationship advice I’ve ever received.

“your boyfriend love you more if you do this”

Well, here I was thinking that my boyfriend may want to love me for my charming personality and big tits…Turns out though, he doesn’t love me enough right now because I don’t wax my bin every month. My bad little Asian lady, thank you for rubbing in the fact that he had yet to put a ring on it.

Now, at this point in my relationship I was comfortable…ladies you know that means I had gained my relationship weight,  we all do it, I was squishier than normal. Oh well so was Kermit. She pressed down on my stomach and got ready to pull off more hair, and at this point I was in so much shock that she had just said my boyfriend didn’t love me because I hadn’t been sugared in a while, that  I didn’t notice that we were half way done, but she puts her hand on my stomach and pulls off some more hair. Then she adds injury to insult! She stops what she is doing and looks at me with a puzzled look on her face, all that you can hear is the babbling water playing on the CD…

“you get flatter stomach, your boyfriend will like that too”

Ahhh…the key to love ladies…a flat stomach and a hairless vagina.  There you have it. That’s it, it doesn’t matter if you are smart, funny, clever, what actually matters is a hairless vagina and a flat stomach.

She goes back to what she is doing, with no talking and I just sit there with my legs in different yoga type positions while she rips away at my hair and dignity. She tells me to roll on my side and pull up my cheek…we all know what cheek we I am talking about. I tell her it’s fine and not to worry about it. I don’t know some thing about having my asshole up in the air weird’s me out, I mean usually when guys ask that they’ve bought me dinner or a drink first. This was apparently not an option,

“I do you favor…your boyfriend like”

My boyfriend is going no where near my asshole lady and if he happens to receive a miracle we will both be way to drunk to notice if there is a hair there. So I’ll pass. Thanks though. She insisted and told me to  roll over again. She lifted my cheek and started going to town with that wax. I am pretty sure I felt violated. I am pretty sure I went further with my waxing lady than I have with any guy and I didn’t even know what was happening. My boyfriend hadn’t even got that far…maybe that is another reason why he didn’t love me. She didn’t point it out so I don’t know for sure.

After that I got dressed and walked out there, a little flustered, a little confused and a lot less hair. I paid and left her a tip, because she had just given me a life time full of tips and got up close and personal with my asshole.

My point is this year ladies, I don’t have to do this. Me and my hairy bin are going to sit at home tomorrow and watch movies where the girl doesn’t end up with the man of her dreams (is there any movies out there like that, I am open to suggestions), and I will dance to single ladies and be happy this year I don’t have to shave, wax, or sugar any part of my body to please a man, because Bob doesn’t care if I haven’t shaved in the last two weeks. So you all have fun at your over priced, over packed, resteraunts, and count the ceiling tiles while you have sex with your husband in the missionary position and try to figure out how many calories you are burning and think of me at home, eating ice cream, watching youporn. 

The most awkward first date that left me with a man who told me he was infatuated by me

Friday night, I got dressed up and went for a drink with my sister. Well when I got home around 9 o’clock I felt like I couldn’t waste a good hair day and a good outfit on one drink (that would be selfish, obviously), so there was a guy that I had been talking to from the hell that we call internet dating. I texted him and said, if he wanted to we could meet up for a drink, but I don’t know how long I can stay because I had to be up early. I figure that way if it was horrible I’d have a reason to have to bail. So we met up on his side of town and some how I got there first? Weird, because I just drove across town and he lived 5 minutes away. I grab a seat by the door and text every one I know to tell them that if it’s horrible I will text them “chicken” and they have to call me.  And thus begun the most awkward first date that left me with a man who told me he was infatuated by me.

OK ready, set, go…he walks in…and nothing. No butterflies, sparks, excitement. I’ve felt butterflies since Kermit, mostly with Skipper but I know that I can feel them with some one else other than Kermit. But I felt nothing on my end. Oh well, he doesn’t look horrible, he was kind of cute, I decide to stay (maybe it would get better right?) and chat with him; except by stay and chat with him I mean I try to make awkward conversation and he just shyly answers and I basically have a conversation with a wall. 20 minutes and half a beer later, he informs me that he had to take his brothers truck (yes, I passed judgment on the face that he had to take his 20 year old brothers truck) back to him so his brother could go to work but he could walk back if I didn’t mind waiting there. WHERE DO I FIND THESE MEN! Oh ya...in the scum of internet dating land. Yes, I do mind actually, I think most people would mind. That's like saying, you just sit here and have a better conversation with a door, but don't you worry, I'll be back in twenty minutes; so yes, I think that’s fucking weird and I'll just go home thanks. So we stay and chat for 20 more minutes, again mostly me trying to carry on some kind of conversation, then wrap it up. He pays the bill, about one of the only things he did right on this date. Then we walk out.

Now I am not a dating expert by any means but I’ve have been on some amazing first dates and some horrible first dates. I will make a chart for you guys some day. But, my point is…this date was average. On every level it was completely average. There was just a lot of mistakes on his end (not on mine, I am the perfect first date) that left me driving home thinking that this would have had to be his first, first date.

First he was shy, which is fine, some people are shy, but at least know how to carry on a conversation. I’ll give you a hint, conversations flow, they should be easy when there is a connection, some one says some thing, usually in question form, you answer the question in more then one or two words, then maybe ask me a question, you know, build on the conversation,  get to know each other,  we’ve been texting for a week, you know a little about me, ask me some thing.

Also another important part of a conversation is to look at some one when they talk to you. Do not go all crazy eyes on me, don’t stare at me like a crazy stalker, but if you could look in my direction that would be appreciated.

Don’t pull out your phone on a date. Never. You go to the bathroom but pulling out your phone to text is weird and just adds to the awkwardness of you not knowing how to carry on a conversation. The only time you pull out your phone is when you are trying to bail on your date. That’s a fact. And even then you go to the bathroom and come back with your phone in your hand, set it on the table and wait for your friend to call you to tell you she is going into labor.

Then it comes time for the awkward good bye. Unless you are 100 percent sure it was an amazing first date you don’t ask for a hug. (hint, if you have to ask for a hug it wasn’t a good date). Regardless, I am not a hugger, unless I love you, then I will hug the shit out of you; but until then, we don’t hug. He stops when we go to part ways to our car, I had turned to walk away, I said goodnight, then the awkward can I have a hug statement comes. Augh. We are not on hugging levels and because of this I say I’m not a hugger but sure. Auughhh why are you touching me; no touchy. No, not even a high five at this point. And I love high fives.

I drive home. I get a text message, “it’s not fair how beautiful you are, I want to see you again soon.” Were we on the same date? Because that was not amazing. It was weird. You were shy and I filled in the  gaps with nervous conversation. Seriously, when the best part of the date was when you went to pay and I watch a very drunk girl dancing around in a helmet it probably means there wasn’t a connection, at least from my end.  And here is a hint, don’t get all brave with text messages after the date is over. So begun the string of you’re amazing text messages. I don’t even know why? I wasn’t charming, my outfit was good, and my hair was good and I was rocking a Kim K smokey eye, but it was just about the most awkward 40 minutes in my dating life. Just about…I’ve had one date worse than that.

Also, do not, I repeat, do not send a text message that says, "so if you aren't are a hugger, does that mean you aren't a cuddler?" Cuddle with you? Hold your horses pony boy. We are not talking about cuddling yet, cuddling happens once you've shagged and unless you count that picture of me you keep next to your bed and tube of vaseline intercourse is not happening between us. 

Another hint, do not ask some one out on a second date through text message. This may be my new biggest pet peeve. The first date, sure, I can understand that if it came through the hell that we call internet dating, but after we meet, pick up the phone and call me, come up with a plan, be a man about this, take control. Girls like it. None of this pansy ass dancing around, well what would you like to do shit. Come up with an idea, call me, ask me, we go. Simple. Take charge. It is the single most important thing if you want a second date. When I ask you on a date, I'll come up with a plan, but I don't have to do that until the fourth date. Until then, it's all you baby. 

And lastly, don’t say things like I know you like me too. Uhh, well I don’t. I am sorry, you were average on every single aspect of that date. But I like your confidence. Use that confidence to pick up the phone and ask me on a date, not a text message.

So that was my first internet date after Kermit…and by all means, left me feeling hopeless about the potential dating pool in Shitville. I mean, we know that I am the classiest lady to walk this earth, so if you could try to be a gentleman, at least a modern day gentleman, that would be great.

Oh well, Saturday night proved to be more interesting when I went out with guys from work and one of them kissed me. We are just going to pleasantly ignore it because he leaves to go work up north for the next month, and may have a girlfriend who lives in B.C. What is it with guys who have girlfriends? Why is it that guys I think I am friends with like me but the ones that I like hate me. Well…cheers to being single and not having to care I guess. 

Day 47...Daddy Issues

Here is the thing; I never like guys who like me. Right now there are guys asking to take me out on dates, to hang out, to fly me all the way across the country, so I know I can play the dating games, that I can be normal, that my awesomeness can translate across to the opposite sex but the thing is, as soon as I think you don’t like me, all sense of normal is out the window. I can’t stand when I guy I like doesn’t like me and I lose all good judgment in dating protocol and make an ass out of myself.  These guys that actually show interest in me are all awesome guys, they are funny, smart make me laugh, probably better picks then any guy I’ve picked since breaking up with Kermit, but they bore me. They are predictable, stable, understanding, and normal. That is not what I am drawn to. I pick assholes, guys who are emotionally unavailable, who have zero interest in dating; one of them still had a girlfriend. Those are the guys I like.

I will pick these guys and obsess over every detail and conversation. I will drunk dial them at 2 in the morning (may have drunk dialed SSM Friday night because I am an emotional cutter), I will say things to make it awkward, I will do weird things. I am just generally awkward when I like you.  It’s like I never got over that awkward 13 year old dating phase. I reply to every text in way to much detail, I become clingy and maybe even borderline needy, I throw my life out the window to bend to yours, can be talked into any thing and basically every dating rule I told you to follow, I don’t .

I mean, I can do these rules, but only when I think that you like me, in some way or another otherwise I can’t. When I was sure Skipper liked me, I had no problem saying I didn’t want to hang out, that I had my own shit to do and I didn’t care if he texted me or not, now I care, now I wonder what I did wrong (obviously, I know, the signs are all there).

When I was out for dinner with Jenna last night, I told her about my theory, about how I only like guys who don’t like me. She said she didn’t date like that at all, if a guy didn’t show interest, his loss, and she wouldn’t care. Most of my friends are like this, except for me, Dana and my other friend Jimmy.

The thing is it kind of sounds like a daddy issue does it not? Begging for guys to love of when they don’t, that has daddy issue written all over it. Except the fact of the matter is, all three of us have parents that are still happily married, dads that loved us and would do any thing for us if they needed to and all of us have had perfectly normal up bringing. The other thing we all share in common is a younger brother, who is gifted in some way. Dana’s brother, Mike, is exceptionally smart (just like her dad), Jimmy’s brother is a pro soccer player in Europe (just like her dad was), and my brother is smart and gifted when it comes to things my dad is passionate about, hunting, fishing, wildlife etc.

I mean, it could really have nothing to do with it; it could just be that all three of us girls are fucked in the head, but I think it’s a little weird, that all three of us share the same dating pattern, and all three of us come from similar family dynamics. I believe I just Dr.Philled that shit and it’s amazing I still work on this office job. 

Day 43...but she says I am the most normal client she sees

I have a problem, well I don’t think it’s a problem but men do. See, the thing is, after my relationship with Kermit ended, I vowed to always be myself, my dorky, loud, awkward, tap dancing, anxiety filled, slightly depressed self. I vowed that I would be this way from the start, so there wasn’t any surprises along the way, you know like three months into a relationship and they find out that I like to tap dance while I clean like I am God damn Shirley Temple and suddenly they are weirded out and stop calling me and I’ve invested three months of dating time with this guy who doesn’t appreciate tap dancing. Well, part of being myself is being 100 percent honest, always, unless we count internet guy, and in that case I am still on my ice fishing trip and it’s going splendid, thank you for asking.

So when a guy texts me, what are you doing this afternoon, I some times reply, seeing my therapist. It’s usually followed by 

“oh know! Did you hurt your knee?” 

Then things get really awkward because I have to say, 

 "no, like a mental therapist, but she says I am the most normal client she sees, so that’s a bonus." 

Ya, see that sentence right there, guys don’t like it. Guys have a fear of crazy women and a women who sees a therapist must be the queen of crazy. She must have issues coming out of her asshole and they don’t want any thing to do with that.

But the thing is, if you have a problem with my seeing Amy Poehler, I’d rather know right away, so I can disregard my anxiety coping mechanism and kick you in the balls.

But men if you are reading this, I am going to give you a hint. Every single female has issues coming out of her asshole. We all need a therapist, I was just smart enough to get forced into seeing one. We have daddy issues, trust issues,  middle child issues, mother-in-law issues, work issues, my ex is an asshole issues, and there isn’t enough money in my bank account to buy another bottle of wine issues. We all have them, you do too, we just don’t hide ours, and have more of them. The difference between me and the girls who choose to keep their issues locked inside and blow up on you because you said you didn’t want pork for dinner is that  I deal with my issues. I am medicated, I am not going to  fly off the handle, why? Because I take drugs for that and if I want to snap I don’t because I’m learning to deal with my issues and if I do it was probably justified and you deserved it. So really, you should be happy that at least I know that women are crazy, that I am crazy, and I am dealing with it instead of keeping it in and throwing a hamburger at you or plotting your death while you sleep.

See I really think every one needs a therapist. Amy Poehler happens to be awesome. It’s like I get to take an afternoon off work once a week and go have lunch with my friend, except we don’t eat and it’s in her office, and I have to pass the person who I am fairly certain doesn’t shower every time I go in.