Somedays I wish a soundtrack accompanied my daily movements. Ok, I lied…I wish that were every day. For instance, the other day I received multiple messages that were somewhat earth shattering to my daily bubble of obliviousness that I live in. When each of these messages came to me, I was listening to my ipod. Therefore, you’d think I was golden having music playing in my ears while receiving the details, yet I couldn’t help but think how inappropriate the Kanye West song I was listening to was.
So, I wish it were like the movies. You’re walking around, enjoying your lovely winter day and a message comes through from that what you thought was an awesome date the other night and the words “Let’s just be friends” comes out of their mouth. Listening to the mindnumbing bass of N.E.R.D and the lyric “All the girls standing in the line for the bathroom…” just wasn’t what you wanted to hear in your ear at that moment. Instead, why can’t some melodramatic mushy heartbroken song magically manifest? My life would make so much more sense if I had musical undertones blaring my feelings.
What if…someone created (ahem I mean me), a wonderful device that tapped into the neurons of your brain that dictated your feelings and connected them to your ipod. Then when you were feeling sad, a sad song would come on, or when you were happy an upbeat song played, if you were feeling dirty, a dirty song would play, etc. It’s like a mood ring for you ipod. GENIUS! If you steal this idea, Mr. Fancy Engineer of Complex Things Beyond my Intellectual Capabilities, I will sue your ass.
Even better, what if you could break up or explain people your feelings by touching your ipod and having a song play. SUPER GENIUS! I had an ex do that to me once. He said “Listen to Donnell Jones’ ‘Where I Wanna Be’ and it will clearly explain my feelings”. However, maybe it wasn’t quite the appropriate song for him to choose…oh well that’s another story.
Either way, music tends to make my world go round. It comforts, it soothes, it reinforces and excites my everyday movement. I think the taste of music someone has says a lot about that person, which is why I refuse to date someone who loves country music. Sorry, there’s just something about that genre of music that makes me cringe. And I’m sure if my mom reads this she will once again say that it only further proves her theory that I’m racist against white people.
Tuesday, December 30, 2008
Monday, December 29, 2008
Oh Epictetus...How Wrong You Were
When I was in college, I always loved my philosophy classes. Besides making me feel like I was having superior intellectual conversations with some of the brightest (or highest) minds on campus, learning philosophy helped me make sense of me. The storytelling of ancient Greek philosophers was extraordinary and yet simplistic all in one. Not like these crazy new philosophers like Nietzsche that when you read their works you feel like you just had an aneurysm. One of my favorites was this philosopher called Epictetus. He wrote this very amazing book called “The Art of Living”. Basically, Epictetus is what you would consider a stoic. Stoicism always intrigued me, mainly because I thought my grandmother and father were some of the best modern day examples of stoicism in my life. Overall, I should probably account my lack of emotional flailing to the stoic nature of the heads of my family.
So now I’m sure you’re asking yourself two questions. 1) She was really a philosophy buff in college?! And 2) How can this girl call herself stoic when I witness her emotional vulgarities on a daily basis? The answer to the first question is yes, I was a philosophy minor and the second question, well I’m getting to that.
Since I am a walking dichotomy of myself, most people know that I work in fairly polar opposites of my life. Most things run black and white, and rarely ever the nice shades of grey in between. Therefore, I can be emotional and stoic all in one. Convoluted? Yes. True? Absolutely. I’m sure Epictetus and his philosophy posse is rolling in their ancient Greek graves at my notion of Emotional Stoicism, otherwise known as the Kassandra Complex. (Those are technical terms by the way…I expect to see those in the next edition of the DSM).
So the Kassandra Complex works a little like this. Over the course of time you start hanging out with someone, and being the nice stoic individual that you are, you take things slow. Which if you know me, you know that relationships are about the only thing in life I take slowly, everything else is full steam ahead. Then things start lurking in those deep muddy waters called “What is This? Land”. Is it a relationship? Is it a bootycall? Is it a friend making a nice gesture? Am I being pitied for my lack male companionship? Tread quickly grasshopper…this is quicksand after all. So this is where the emotional part sets in. However, being a stoic and inevitably having the Kassandra Complex, you never let those emotions surface. Instead, they run around like two year old children hyped up on sugar through my head. Then after the two year olds lay down for naps after the sugar crash, the nagging voice of my mother shoots in with her two cents. This is about the time my stoic ass goes to the gym. Ahhhh repression…release.
So, after battling the demons in my head, then comes the stoic silence. The stoic silence is very much unlike a Pinter moment in that it really has little to do with the dramatic pause of silence, but more so a silence of the voice simply because my emotional head won’t shut up. Those who have witnessed the Kassandra Complex will note some key characteristics of this stage. The first is melodrama. This is when all of the “woe is me” damsel in distress half assedly fishing for sympathy remarks vomit out of my mouth. But, instead of ever clearly distinguishing what is wrong, I force myself to speak in super deep philosophical metaphors like “It is what is is.” Next, comes what I call “talking about never talking about it.” This is when those few poor souls who inquire what sort of madness is going on and I respond with the very Hollywood-ish “No Comment”. The final step is the private meltdown where the airs of stoicism collapse and you are sitting on your couch with a bottle of wine, a half eaten box of Papa John’s cheesesticks and watching a Tyler Perry movie crying your eyes out at the overly moral religious undertones that always seems to appear in his movies much like God himself yelling fire and brimstone at us sinners. Ok, maybe I should leave God out of this mess.
So now, this obviously is the point where I’m sure all sorts of mass confusion has set in for the party in question. When viewing someone with the Kassandra Complex they are hardly sure if up is up or if up is down. (In my world, it’s both by the way…get used to it). So, either this person is a brave soldier and says “Man up buddy, I’m in this for the long haul! We’re gonna slay this dragon with ninja-strength force and plow down those stoic walls and rescue our damsel in emotional internal distress!” or this is when they run screaming for the hills. More often than not it’s the latter. And if they don’t choose the latter, I usually push them to the latter after months of painful chipping away.
The very unfortunate part of the Kassandra Complex is that I tend to do this to really great guys. I mean guys that bend over backwards for you. Guys that bring you care kits when you are sick. Guys that drive 40 minutes out of their way just to watch a stupid movie on your couch and guys who drink themselves silly at your birthday party because they are upset that you went with a complete douche bag as your date. Those are the guys I tend to hurt. But, it’s not that I don’t know and understand what amazing guys they are. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. It’s the mere fact that I do understand they are amazing, witty, caring, intelligent guys that makes me push them away. Why you ask? Because deep down I know I don’t deserve that right now.
I don’t deserve the kisses, the hugs, the intimacy. I don’t deserve the intellectual conversations, the caring deeds and the unconditional love. At least right now I don’t. I’m not deserving of all of that just yet. The reason being is that I need to be the one showing myself with love, that agape type of love that is selfless and unyielding. To be that loving person to another, I need to learn to love me better. I’m trying, trust me I am. Because it pains me to no end to see good guy, after good guy slip on by to a woman who has made herself deserving. Each time it happens I take a pause for myself to let myself know that someday, hopefully someday soon that will be mine as well. And that the heartache I have from letting the good ones go by just reassures me that at least I was selfless enough to let them go before I could give them all of my heart.
Therefore, will pain is unfortunately imminent for those with the Kassandra Complex, it unfortunately was my namesake destiny. My parents must have been modern day Nostradamuses. Apparently my name means “entangler of men”. Apollo, one of the greatest Greek characters once loved me, but since I shunned him, with my Kassandra Complex, I was cursed. The curse being that though I had the gift of prophecy, that my prophecies would never be taken seriously. This must be why I blog.
So now I’m sure you’re asking yourself two questions. 1) She was really a philosophy buff in college?! And 2) How can this girl call herself stoic when I witness her emotional vulgarities on a daily basis? The answer to the first question is yes, I was a philosophy minor and the second question, well I’m getting to that.
Since I am a walking dichotomy of myself, most people know that I work in fairly polar opposites of my life. Most things run black and white, and rarely ever the nice shades of grey in between. Therefore, I can be emotional and stoic all in one. Convoluted? Yes. True? Absolutely. I’m sure Epictetus and his philosophy posse is rolling in their ancient Greek graves at my notion of Emotional Stoicism, otherwise known as the Kassandra Complex. (Those are technical terms by the way…I expect to see those in the next edition of the DSM).
So the Kassandra Complex works a little like this. Over the course of time you start hanging out with someone, and being the nice stoic individual that you are, you take things slow. Which if you know me, you know that relationships are about the only thing in life I take slowly, everything else is full steam ahead. Then things start lurking in those deep muddy waters called “What is This? Land”. Is it a relationship? Is it a bootycall? Is it a friend making a nice gesture? Am I being pitied for my lack male companionship? Tread quickly grasshopper…this is quicksand after all. So this is where the emotional part sets in. However, being a stoic and inevitably having the Kassandra Complex, you never let those emotions surface. Instead, they run around like two year old children hyped up on sugar through my head. Then after the two year olds lay down for naps after the sugar crash, the nagging voice of my mother shoots in with her two cents. This is about the time my stoic ass goes to the gym. Ahhhh repression…release.
So, after battling the demons in my head, then comes the stoic silence. The stoic silence is very much unlike a Pinter moment in that it really has little to do with the dramatic pause of silence, but more so a silence of the voice simply because my emotional head won’t shut up. Those who have witnessed the Kassandra Complex will note some key characteristics of this stage. The first is melodrama. This is when all of the “woe is me” damsel in distress half assedly fishing for sympathy remarks vomit out of my mouth. But, instead of ever clearly distinguishing what is wrong, I force myself to speak in super deep philosophical metaphors like “It is what is is.” Next, comes what I call “talking about never talking about it.” This is when those few poor souls who inquire what sort of madness is going on and I respond with the very Hollywood-ish “No Comment”. The final step is the private meltdown where the airs of stoicism collapse and you are sitting on your couch with a bottle of wine, a half eaten box of Papa John’s cheesesticks and watching a Tyler Perry movie crying your eyes out at the overly moral religious undertones that always seems to appear in his movies much like God himself yelling fire and brimstone at us sinners. Ok, maybe I should leave God out of this mess.
So now, this obviously is the point where I’m sure all sorts of mass confusion has set in for the party in question. When viewing someone with the Kassandra Complex they are hardly sure if up is up or if up is down. (In my world, it’s both by the way…get used to it). So, either this person is a brave soldier and says “Man up buddy, I’m in this for the long haul! We’re gonna slay this dragon with ninja-strength force and plow down those stoic walls and rescue our damsel in emotional internal distress!” or this is when they run screaming for the hills. More often than not it’s the latter. And if they don’t choose the latter, I usually push them to the latter after months of painful chipping away.
The very unfortunate part of the Kassandra Complex is that I tend to do this to really great guys. I mean guys that bend over backwards for you. Guys that bring you care kits when you are sick. Guys that drive 40 minutes out of their way just to watch a stupid movie on your couch and guys who drink themselves silly at your birthday party because they are upset that you went with a complete douche bag as your date. Those are the guys I tend to hurt. But, it’s not that I don’t know and understand what amazing guys they are. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. It’s the mere fact that I do understand they are amazing, witty, caring, intelligent guys that makes me push them away. Why you ask? Because deep down I know I don’t deserve that right now.
I don’t deserve the kisses, the hugs, the intimacy. I don’t deserve the intellectual conversations, the caring deeds and the unconditional love. At least right now I don’t. I’m not deserving of all of that just yet. The reason being is that I need to be the one showing myself with love, that agape type of love that is selfless and unyielding. To be that loving person to another, I need to learn to love me better. I’m trying, trust me I am. Because it pains me to no end to see good guy, after good guy slip on by to a woman who has made herself deserving. Each time it happens I take a pause for myself to let myself know that someday, hopefully someday soon that will be mine as well. And that the heartache I have from letting the good ones go by just reassures me that at least I was selfless enough to let them go before I could give them all of my heart.
Therefore, will pain is unfortunately imminent for those with the Kassandra Complex, it unfortunately was my namesake destiny. My parents must have been modern day Nostradamuses. Apparently my name means “entangler of men”. Apollo, one of the greatest Greek characters once loved me, but since I shunned him, with my Kassandra Complex, I was cursed. The curse being that though I had the gift of prophecy, that my prophecies would never be taken seriously. This must be why I blog.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Bromances, Homances and Other Reasons Why You Aren't In a Relationship
So, from the creators of Laguna Beach, The Hills and other awful shows that prove that white kids have the intelligence of a third grader...comes Bromance. Now I don't know about you, but the fact that Brody Jenner is willing to sit there and say, "Hey I want a new BFF!" is borderline...well, you know where that's going. Like the kid needs the extra money right?
Anyways, so I was talking to one of my friends about his "bromance". Ok, now I completely get the idea that everyone has friends, and everyone has close friends. We all have that go-to person for everything in our life that knows us inside and out and can console us even before we need consoling. (Guys, this would be that dude that brings you beer when you sound sad. Girls, it's your friend that brings over ice cream.) But what happens when you have that one friendship that's just a little "too" close. You know what I mean. Ladies, it's that guy who lives with your potential future husband and who you would seriously think is his hetero-life mate if it weren't for the amazing sex you had last night with him, and guys, it's that girlfriend of your future wife to be who is consulted on EVERYTHING down to which underwear she's wearing on your next date. Scary right? It is.
So, how do you break up the bromance/homance? Simply put, you don't. Stay away from these people. That's the best advice I can give. Eventually the creepiness of the bro/homance will wear itself thin...but if it doesn't, you're better off not joining into a threesome. Because let's be honest, that's truly what it would be. Unless you like that kinky kind of thing...
But really, for all of you people who have these relationships, and you know some of you do, tone them down. Honestly, it's keeping you from having healthy relationships with people. No one wants to feel like they're sharing someone right when they're getting to know them in the relationship sense. So give your bro/homance partner the same advice you should give yourself. Move on and find a life.
Anyways, so I was talking to one of my friends about his "bromance". Ok, now I completely get the idea that everyone has friends, and everyone has close friends. We all have that go-to person for everything in our life that knows us inside and out and can console us even before we need consoling. (Guys, this would be that dude that brings you beer when you sound sad. Girls, it's your friend that brings over ice cream.) But what happens when you have that one friendship that's just a little "too" close. You know what I mean. Ladies, it's that guy who lives with your potential future husband and who you would seriously think is his hetero-life mate if it weren't for the amazing sex you had last night with him, and guys, it's that girlfriend of your future wife to be who is consulted on EVERYTHING down to which underwear she's wearing on your next date. Scary right? It is.
So, how do you break up the bromance/homance? Simply put, you don't. Stay away from these people. That's the best advice I can give. Eventually the creepiness of the bro/homance will wear itself thin...but if it doesn't, you're better off not joining into a threesome. Because let's be honest, that's truly what it would be. Unless you like that kinky kind of thing...
But really, for all of you people who have these relationships, and you know some of you do, tone them down. Honestly, it's keeping you from having healthy relationships with people. No one wants to feel like they're sharing someone right when they're getting to know them in the relationship sense. So give your bro/homance partner the same advice you should give yourself. Move on and find a life.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
Walking Contradiction
I wonder how many people in life honestly take inventory of how much of what they say matches up to what they preach. Maybe I'm oblivious and people do it all the time. Me on the other hand, I apparently live in the land of cognitive dissonance. I love that term. When I was a sociology major in undergrad, cognitive dissonance was always my favorite sociological term because for some reason that word always seemed to describe my life in some way shape or form. Basically, cognitive dissonance in it's simplest sense is the uncomfy feeling you have when you hold two contradictory beliefs simultaneously. Most sociological theorists believe that we, as humans attempt to avoid this dissonance by either adjusting our beliefs so that the two coincide or we try to rationalize why we have those particular thoughts/beliefs.
For instance...I preach up and down about the ways of eating healthy and utilizing the gym, yet my lazy ass hasn't done either of those two things in well, quite awhile. But besides my unending battle with upcoming New Year's resolutions, I have learned that I'm quite the line walker of cognitive dissonance when it comes to relationships.
I read a few articles this weekend that made me think about how often I have 1) said I want a particular quality in a guy and have let him walk away or 2) disobeyed relationship advice/beliefs I've held and continuously go against them. Basically it's that lovely line from "The Wedding Planner" where Jennifer Lopez so eloquently states, "Those who can't wed, plan!" Therefore, since I apparently suck at finding relationships, I blog endlessly about my mistakes. Just consider me your dating stunt double.
Now guys, women really are crazy. Trust me, we are. But mainly it's because every time we go on a date with someone we are rattling our heads at the cognitive dissonance running through our veins. I mean for years we are told by our mothers, and fathers alike to find a kind, decent, honest, intelligent man. But ladies, now be honest, how many of us have gone after the rough, indecent, lying, questionable intellect men of this world? Go ahead, raise your hand. Why do we do this? Is it simply to disobey the golden rules our parents have set forth for us even into our adulthood? Do we as women enjoy this feeling of rebelliousness?
I don't think so. Now keep in mind, this is just my thought, and oh yes, my thoughts are usually awesome. But...my theory is this. Men, you enjoy fixing things correct? The bathroom tub that's leaking, or the car that just won't purr like a kitten, or even that darn light bulb that keeps going out. Well, hidden secret...women like to fix things to. They're called men. For some reason women have developed this innate intuitive sense to "fix" men. And the quotations around the word fix are there for a reason, because I firmly believe that no man can be "fixed", at least in the sense us women would like them to be. It's purely a control issue. For some weird off handed biological reason women enjoy the satisfaction of bringing home a changed man. It's an odd dependence of sorts where a woman can look back and be like "Yes, I had a part in that".
When I set out to write this blog, I had no intention of supporting one side or the other. Merely, I wanted to be an observer of relationships in life. Call it my sociological intuition. (See mom and dad, the degree DOES work in real life!) My meanderings are just that. They are brief glimpses into my own viewpoint and how those can be manifested to relationship situations. Or maybe this little paragraph is another demonstration of my cognitive dissonance on why the girl who cannot get a boyfriend writes about relationships and dating...sigh.
For instance...I preach up and down about the ways of eating healthy and utilizing the gym, yet my lazy ass hasn't done either of those two things in well, quite awhile. But besides my unending battle with upcoming New Year's resolutions, I have learned that I'm quite the line walker of cognitive dissonance when it comes to relationships.
I read a few articles this weekend that made me think about how often I have 1) said I want a particular quality in a guy and have let him walk away or 2) disobeyed relationship advice/beliefs I've held and continuously go against them. Basically it's that lovely line from "The Wedding Planner" where Jennifer Lopez so eloquently states, "Those who can't wed, plan!" Therefore, since I apparently suck at finding relationships, I blog endlessly about my mistakes. Just consider me your dating stunt double.
Now guys, women really are crazy. Trust me, we are. But mainly it's because every time we go on a date with someone we are rattling our heads at the cognitive dissonance running through our veins. I mean for years we are told by our mothers, and fathers alike to find a kind, decent, honest, intelligent man. But ladies, now be honest, how many of us have gone after the rough, indecent, lying, questionable intellect men of this world? Go ahead, raise your hand. Why do we do this? Is it simply to disobey the golden rules our parents have set forth for us even into our adulthood? Do we as women enjoy this feeling of rebelliousness?
I don't think so. Now keep in mind, this is just my thought, and oh yes, my thoughts are usually awesome. But...my theory is this. Men, you enjoy fixing things correct? The bathroom tub that's leaking, or the car that just won't purr like a kitten, or even that darn light bulb that keeps going out. Well, hidden secret...women like to fix things to. They're called men. For some reason women have developed this innate intuitive sense to "fix" men. And the quotations around the word fix are there for a reason, because I firmly believe that no man can be "fixed", at least in the sense us women would like them to be. It's purely a control issue. For some weird off handed biological reason women enjoy the satisfaction of bringing home a changed man. It's an odd dependence of sorts where a woman can look back and be like "Yes, I had a part in that".
When I set out to write this blog, I had no intention of supporting one side or the other. Merely, I wanted to be an observer of relationships in life. Call it my sociological intuition. (See mom and dad, the degree DOES work in real life!) My meanderings are just that. They are brief glimpses into my own viewpoint and how those can be manifested to relationship situations. Or maybe this little paragraph is another demonstration of my cognitive dissonance on why the girl who cannot get a boyfriend writes about relationships and dating...sigh.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Spellcheck Yo'self!
As a self proclaimed guru and founding member of online dating I feel like I have become a fairly good judge of people. OK, well maybe judge is a bad word, since that makes me feel like I have this unyielding power to proclaim who's awesome and who's not...well wait, never mind, maybe I do like that power. Anywho, since I've been doing the online dating for oh let's see 12 years (yes that means I started when I was 14 for those of you who forgot to know how to subtract once calculators were invented...I had liberal parents, what can I say?) then I think I've developed a very keen sense of knowing how a person will be once I meet them in person.
Normally based on a person's profile I have a fairly accurate depiction of how their personality will play off in real life. However, the better portrayals come from the short emails that are flown back and forth during the initial stages. For instance, on one of the sites, some guy emailed me and kid you not spelled the word "you" as "yu". Apparently it was just waaaaaayyy too much effort to type in that "o" to complete the word. Maybe it was just simpler since the "y" and the "u" keys are right next to each other. Either way, I said PASS! And then he had the nerve to get all huffy on me and say something to the effect of "hey, stop judging me because I'm an illiterate mess and can't spell and use proper grammar", except he actually misspelled grammar in the sentence...which further proved my point. (Mainly because I had used the word grammar in the note he was replying to...so the word was right there, he could seriously just copied and pasted it, but that again must have been too much effort).
And OK, before you all jump my ass for my typos throughout my blog, I'll admit I'm being a hypocrite...kind of. If someone sends me a note and there's an occasional misspelled word here and there I let it slide, I'm not a spelling Nazi, I'll live. But when someone repeatedly misspells and uses bad grammar throughout a message, it almost looks like they're intentionally being stupid. Seriously fellas, nothing is more sexier than an intelligent man. OK, well maybe nice arms...a defined chest...gorgeous eyes...a killer smile...ahhh OK, you get the hint. Either way, intelligence is one of the things that is a NECESSITY when it comes to dating me. Some women can deal with mind numbingly boring conversations with someone who has the intellect of a piece of cardboard. I can't. I want someone who talks about interesting and thought provoking things that challenges me to google my heart out after I nod and pretend to know what they mean. Because God forbid I let a man think he knows more than me! GASP! That'll be the day.
So, point is, I'm not in college anymore. So I don't usually respond to "hey hottie", or "hey ma", or "hey yu sxe"I mean honestly, if you don't have the ability to type simple things with your digits, what makes me think you know how to use them for *ahem* other things? Think about it...and spell check yo'self before you wreck yo'self fool!
Normally based on a person's profile I have a fairly accurate depiction of how their personality will play off in real life. However, the better portrayals come from the short emails that are flown back and forth during the initial stages. For instance, on one of the sites, some guy emailed me and kid you not spelled the word "you" as "yu". Apparently it was just waaaaaayyy too much effort to type in that "o" to complete the word. Maybe it was just simpler since the "y" and the "u" keys are right next to each other. Either way, I said PASS! And then he had the nerve to get all huffy on me and say something to the effect of "hey, stop judging me because I'm an illiterate mess and can't spell and use proper grammar", except he actually misspelled grammar in the sentence...which further proved my point. (Mainly because I had used the word grammar in the note he was replying to...so the word was right there, he could seriously just copied and pasted it, but that again must have been too much effort).
And OK, before you all jump my ass for my typos throughout my blog, I'll admit I'm being a hypocrite...kind of. If someone sends me a note and there's an occasional misspelled word here and there I let it slide, I'm not a spelling Nazi, I'll live. But when someone repeatedly misspells and uses bad grammar throughout a message, it almost looks like they're intentionally being stupid. Seriously fellas, nothing is more sexier than an intelligent man. OK, well maybe nice arms...a defined chest...gorgeous eyes...a killer smile...ahhh OK, you get the hint. Either way, intelligence is one of the things that is a NECESSITY when it comes to dating me. Some women can deal with mind numbingly boring conversations with someone who has the intellect of a piece of cardboard. I can't. I want someone who talks about interesting and thought provoking things that challenges me to google my heart out after I nod and pretend to know what they mean. Because God forbid I let a man think he knows more than me! GASP! That'll be the day.
So, point is, I'm not in college anymore. So I don't usually respond to "hey hottie", or "hey ma", or "hey yu sxe"I mean honestly, if you don't have the ability to type simple things with your digits, what makes me think you know how to use them for *ahem* other things? Think about it...and spell check yo'self before you wreck yo'self fool!
Tuesday, December 16, 2008
Your Answer to the Magazine Questionnaire
Ok, so of course I'm going to spend the first few sentences remarking about my extended leave again...damn I need to keep up with this better. I mean this blog could be made into a multimillion dollar book right? I figure if that guy who wrote "He's Just Not That Into You" then my blog will get picked up as the more awesome female version titled "Who Gives a Crap if He's Not that Into You, At Least I'm Into ME Dammit!". Very empowering I think. I'm sure instead it will be my lame-o version of "I Am an Awesome Date Advisor, but Can't Find a Man Myself". Oh bring on the bag lady persona.
Anyways, on my quest of everlasting love (or someone to share an apartment with...rent is HIGH up here), I had a dating experience not too long ago that made me think of those really awful magazine questionnaires that are supposed to give you some deep insight into how well you are in bed, or what type of girlfriend you'd be. By the way, I always cheated on those surveys and figured out which "persona" I wanted to fit into and answered accordingly to get that score. I'm sure that psychologically explains SO much. Maybe that'll be another post...women who cheat on surveys in magazines that have no relevance to life whatsover.
Anywho, back to the topic. Well on most of these pseudo-informational surveys, there's usually a question such as "If you were at a restaurant with someone and they had something on their face would you A) Tell them right away in your best outdoor voice B) Ignore the mess on their face C) Make a casual facial gesture indicating they are a slob and have stuff on their face or D) Ignore the mess, watch them put even more food on their face, chuckle on the inside and then realize you are the one being seen with this person in public so after 15 really awkward minutes you tell them that they now have dried food stuck to their face.
Ok...so I chose D. The guy was an utter SLOB! Granted, if you know me, I am by far and away not the most clean eater. In fact, my mother strongly advised against me wearing a white dress to Prom for that very reason. (God only knows what she'll do at my wedding...oh wait, I won't be wearing white will I? haha, man I set myself up GOOD for that one). Even better example my friends at college nicknamed my cleavage "The Village" because I used to spill so much food down there that the only explanation was that I was feeding the small boob people who lived in the crevices between Twin A and Twin B. Ok, I'm sure that was too much information. Regardless, the point is, it HAD to be bad for me to put on the "eww gross" face. I literally think the best part though was after he had blue cheese dressing smeared across his entire mouth for 5 minutes, he realized he should wipe is mouth and when he picked up the napkin it grazed the top of the whip cream on his belgian waffle, which when he wiped his mouth ended up on the side of his cheek. It took all of my willpower not to laugh...or walk out the door. Thank God it was a diner in New Jersey.
So ummm yeah another one bites the dust...
Anyways, on my quest of everlasting love (or someone to share an apartment with...rent is HIGH up here), I had a dating experience not too long ago that made me think of those really awful magazine questionnaires that are supposed to give you some deep insight into how well you are in bed, or what type of girlfriend you'd be. By the way, I always cheated on those surveys and figured out which "persona" I wanted to fit into and answered accordingly to get that score. I'm sure that psychologically explains SO much. Maybe that'll be another post...women who cheat on surveys in magazines that have no relevance to life whatsover.
Anywho, back to the topic. Well on most of these pseudo-informational surveys, there's usually a question such as "If you were at a restaurant with someone and they had something on their face would you A) Tell them right away in your best outdoor voice B) Ignore the mess on their face C) Make a casual facial gesture indicating they are a slob and have stuff on their face or D) Ignore the mess, watch them put even more food on their face, chuckle on the inside and then realize you are the one being seen with this person in public so after 15 really awkward minutes you tell them that they now have dried food stuck to their face.
Ok...so I chose D. The guy was an utter SLOB! Granted, if you know me, I am by far and away not the most clean eater. In fact, my mother strongly advised against me wearing a white dress to Prom for that very reason. (God only knows what she'll do at my wedding...oh wait, I won't be wearing white will I? haha, man I set myself up GOOD for that one). Even better example my friends at college nicknamed my cleavage "The Village" because I used to spill so much food down there that the only explanation was that I was feeding the small boob people who lived in the crevices between Twin A and Twin B. Ok, I'm sure that was too much information. Regardless, the point is, it HAD to be bad for me to put on the "eww gross" face. I literally think the best part though was after he had blue cheese dressing smeared across his entire mouth for 5 minutes, he realized he should wipe is mouth and when he picked up the napkin it grazed the top of the whip cream on his belgian waffle, which when he wiped his mouth ended up on the side of his cheek. It took all of my willpower not to laugh...or walk out the door. Thank God it was a diner in New Jersey.
So ummm yeah another one bites the dust...
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