Lies My Mother Told Me

Ever since we were little girls, our mothers have always fed us dating advice. Some of it was in hopes that we would not make the same mistakes they did, others were put out there simply to deter us from making decisions they would rather we didn’t make. Either way, as an adult and being in the dating world for as long as I have, I have realized that ladies, your mothers lied to you. Now they may have knowingly lied, which makes it worse. Or they may have just been unknowing participants in a long chain of mothers lying to their daughters that have just transcended time. However, I feel the need to debunk a few of these myths, so I will address and nullify some of my very favorites.

Myth #1: “If a boy is mean to you, that means he likes you.”

Ok mom. I believed you there for a bit. All those boys on the playground in grade school calling me frizzy hair, or made jokes about whatever awkward adolescent stage you were going through at the time were really trying to suppress their deep and undying affection for me? Yeah I must have been gullible. I believe this is a mother’s protective nature to tell you this lie. The last thing she wants is to see spilled tears over the incessant meanness of little boys, so she throws in this little lie much like you used to tell your friends it was “Opposite Day” when you made a huge glaring mistake on something like your choice of outfit. (“Oh, you don’t like my 3 colored leg warmers and stretch pants with the NKOTB t-shirt? Well that’s cause it’s OPPOSITE DAY! Haha! Got you guys GOOD!”)

However small this lie may have been, unfortunately mothers, this lie transcends us women into adulthood. Like women do though, we make it infinitely more complex than needed. So, while good guy after good guy keeps stumbling on by us many women sit here and are subconsciously processing our mother’s adage and think “Oh, I want me a bad boy. Because when a boy is bad, and treats me like dirt that means he’s really into me.” See what the catastrophic ramifications are Mom? Geez.

So mom, you should have just said “Boys are mean to you because they are too dumb and infantile to converse regularly, so suck it up and kick them in the shins.”

Myth #2: “There are plenty of fish in the sea.”

Really? Awesome! This lie is always a fun one because it’s one of those hidden make you feel good and feel bad at the same time lies. In one perspective hearing this is supposed to give you that comfy feeling after your broke up with your significant other, or if you have been single for eons. But once you really look at it, you begin to realize, wow, if there are so many fish in the sea, how will I ever be content with who I’m with? It’s the whole “grass is greener on the other side” mentality that will constantly force you to look in every nook and cranny before realizing “Wait…I had a good one there didn’t I? Damn. He just got engaged to someone else. Oh woe is me, there are plenty of fish in the sea!”

So mom, you should have said “Darling, I know things did not work out with Johnny Badboyfriend, but many men will walk in and out of your life. Some are good, some are bad. But make sure you relish the ones that respect, cherish and love you to the best of their ability, and don’t look forward when the present is right in front of you.”

Myth #3: “Men are intimidated by powerful women.”

Archaic, I agree. However, many bold, beautiful and amazingly intelligent women are told this every day. Some women are bad asses in the board room but go out and become these demure creatures. I’ll admit I tone down the bitchiness from work to relationships. But…if you are truly a friend, you know the bitchiness is always there. If you are a powerful woman, that is so sexy to men. And if those men are not attracted to sexy, smart and powerful women, then fine, they weren’t meant for you. Relationships are a yin and yang, so there’s always give and take, but if you are a Type A personality, don’t compromise and become a Type B personality at home. Those shifts in personality will really help you lose focus of who you are as a woman inside and out.

So mom, you should have said “Do not compromise who you are to please another person. As long as you are happy with who you are, you have no other person to please.”

Myth #4: “Don’t talk about religion or politics on a first date.”

Why the hell not? The conversation is going to come up sooner or later right? So get it out of the way. People have such strong moral obligations to politics and religion that they inevitably shape their lives. People claim they aren’t defined by these things, but in essence it does shape your worldviews and how you approach people and situations. Ask away, God forbid you learn something about a person other than their job and where they live.

Myth #5: “Don’t ever kiss on a first date.”

Oh yes, repression at its finest. If you had a fabulous date with someone why wouldn’t you want to test the waters with a kiss? Kisses to me are the best way to gauge the initial chemistry with someone. To me, people who set up timelines and dating goals throughout their lifetime have no real concept of living in the moment. (You know what I’m talking about. The girl who says, only kiss after the 3rd date, no sex until dating for approximately 3 full months, don’t get married until you’ve been engaged for at least a year…etc).

So mom, you should have said “Sweetie, don’t ever set guidelines for falling in love. Once you put timeframes on feelings they become boxed in, rather than free flowing and all encompassing. So, if you feel something, go with it. No regrets. Just don’t kiss EVERY boy you meet just to try it out. Make sure they deserve the kiss in the first place.”

Myth #6: “Don’t offer to pay on a first date.”

All right men, I have your back on this one. From an early age or mommy dearest has told us that “proper” women do not pay and mainly this reason is the fact that we are told that men would “feel bad” if a woman paid. Some men, actually most men will probably have that complex, and blame that on their fathers telling them they have to “provide” for their woman. So, now we’re at the middle of dealing with two goofy parenting messages. So let’s look at what the lie. The lie says “don’t offer”. So, offer. It shows that you are not there just for a free meal and that you acknowledge the monetary loss of forking over money for a date. Dating gets expensive, especially in this economy. So, going halfsies is not always a bad thing. Over time, most couple don’t even keep track of who pays for what anymore.

So mom, you should have said “Always at least offer to pay for your share. Don’t feel that any man should take care of everything for you or that a man needs to pay a monetary contribution to enjoy your company. That’s what hookers are for. You’re not a hooker are you?”

Myth #7: “Men are afraid to commit.”

Not necessarily true. This is another lie your mom tells you when you’ve dealt with a boyfriend who’s had a bit of a wandering eye. Men are not afraid to commit to the right woman. So, sorry, you probably just weren’t the right woman. Men do enjoy, just as much as women do, their single freedom. But ladies, men are way less complex on a lot of fronts including this one. If you are the person they want to be with, they will be with you. If not, move on to another man who wants to devote his time and cherish you.

So mom, you should have said “Good men for you are not afraid to commit to you. However, know that commitment is not something to take lightly, nor it is something you always need to be a part of. It’s ok to casually date and it’s ok to have a relationship with someone that is not defined. Simply enjoy the company of another and let definitions roll in on their own time.”

Myth #8: “Don’t worry, you can change him.”

Rare, very rare. Most people are who they are. Some are good at being conniving or misleading, but in the end, all they are is a conniver and misleader, which is not something you want. So, take people at face value. If someone is a jerk to you, or treats you disrespectfully, don’t ask them to change. Change comes from within and only occurs if someone truly wants to change. Men are not like a new pair of shoes that you can toss on and off as you please, so don’t expect the same interchangeability. Women enjoy holding onto the notion that if they were a good enough woman they could change any man. That all that man needs is a woman to set them straight. Nope, get that out of your head now, please.

So mom, you should have said, “Don’t change anyone. Just learn from that person and understand that the problem was not yours to fix. Fixing people without their permission is like baking a cake without knowing the ingredients. So stick with what they give you and either work with it, or move on.”

Myth #9: “Love conquers all.”

Love does many things in life, but love never bypasses everything. It can’t, simply because love is way more encompassing that a single entity. Love is different things to different people based on morals, spirituality, family, entertainment, whatever thing may sway you. Everyone likes to hold onto an ideal that love will get you through anything. But, love is work, love is a challenge and love is not always pretty.

So mom, you should have said, “Love is powerful, but don’t let it be your everything. Because if you do, you will become lost in a sense of longing for an emotion that you may or may not feel for someone. Enjoy that love is everywhere around you, but don’t expect it to fight your battles.”

Myth #10: “Opposites attract.”

I believe this one to a point. I think there does need to be some sort of polarity in any relationship, otherwise conversations would go like this

Joe: “Oh darling, the new democratic stimulus plan is absolutely perfect.”
Jane: “I agree.”

Boring right? Every other statement is, I agree. Definitely not my image of a thought provoking relationship. I once had a friend say to me “Oh things are great, we never fight!” This scared me, simply because without a little healthy banter here and there, you become monotonous and hum drum. Not to mention, the day that you DO discover something to fight about, and trust me, they will, it will not be pretty.

However, being opposites is not always cohesive to a lasting relationship. If you are constantly fighting with someone, no joy will ever be found and it will make for a very tumultuous relationship in the end. So don’t look for your opposite, look for your complement.

So mom, you should have said, “Look for the person that has qualities you lack but shares pieces of commonalities. Together, the joining of your personalities will complement and enhance your lives to new levels.”

So, How Did you Two Meet?

As you know I am an admitted online dater. I’ve dated online since I was the tender age of 14, and have been doing it consistently since, except for the few breaks for relationships in between. As an adult I always ask my friends “Where do I meet men now besides online?” I ask them this question simply because I still feel that there is some sort of weird dork-ish association when you tell someone “Oh we met online.” It seems too bland, so dull, so unoriginal. I mean think about it. As a child you probably asked your parents at one point in their parental lives, “Mom and dad, how did you two meet?” More often than not your parents will have some sappy sweet story like my parents who were actually set up by their mothers (My mom’s mother was my dad’s mom’s Avon lady…make sense?) And how they were high school sweethearts, but went to separate schools and they lived happily ever after.

With my generation, I’m not looking forward to that awkward conversation you have with your children later in life when this inevitable question comes up. I mean think about it. Flash forward 15-20 years from now and little Kassandra Jr. walks up and says “Mommy, mommy! You and Daddy are so in love! How did you two meet so I know how to meet my future husband?” By this point I hope that said husband and I have contrived some nice intricately woven story about how we were both randomly traveling overseas and we spotted each other across the ruins at Pompeii and we instantly fell in love and spent the next 3 months backpacking our way across the continent. But, knowing me, I will have forgotten to go over this grand scheme with my future husband and then I will be caught in a fibbing situation with my future child. Not good parenting.

But have you noticed how boring and awkward some of the “how we met” stories are these days? So what do you tell your children? “Oh little Kassandra Jr., there was this one weekend where I decided to go to a sweaty, overpriced Manhattan club and about four Redbull and Vodkas in, this guy just started grinding up on my ass. It was love at first dry hump!”

To me though, that story is not as awkward as saying “Oh, little Kassandra Jr., there was this crazy invention called the Internet. And they built these websites where people could put up profiles about themselves and your daddy just totally dug what I wrote and loved my sexy pictures I posted, so we emailed, chatted and then we met in person. We both claimed that we were ‘too busy’ to meet people anywhere else but online. In reality though we were just too lazy and scared of rejection so we met online.” Sigh. How utterly depressing. I can just see my future daughter’s expression drop and any sort of idealistic notions she had of my utter awesomeness just cave and crash before my very eyes. Next thing I know she’s looking up to a Britney Spears or Hannah Montana character and I’ve lost her forever.

So…question is, where in the world do you meet people outside of online at my age? (I say, “my age” like I’m old and out of touch don’t I?) It seems like for your entire life you always have a built in comfort zone of meeting people. Up until about age 4 or 5 your parents took care of it. They took you on playdates or forced you to interact with the odd hodgepodge collection of neighborhood kiddies. Then school came and everyone found their niche of friends there. Next, college, which even if you went out of state or to a school where no one you knew went to, it was not hard to meet and make new friends there. Now as an adult there’s well…work? Now I don’t know about you, but I’m assuming that most companies, despite the romantic shenanigans on The Office or even in the halls of Seattle Grace Hospital, frown upon inter office love fests.

So for all the late twenty somethings, we are forced into bars, dirty clubs, and online encounters. Or if we have super duper friends that try pitying us, we may enter the dreaded world of blind dates…which by the way, don’t EVER agree to. But there has to be something else right? I mean I do live near Manhattan. If people have managed to create transportation systems underground and survive the smell, then surely a secret singles mixing ground must exist right?

Please. If anyone knows where this underground lair of intelligent, witty, sexy single men are who are all dying for committed relationships, share with the group. I have surmised a few guesses based simply on Googling. Some of the common answers are grocery stores, coffee shops, co-ed clothing stores, Central Park all that good stuff. I mean I cannot just keep waiting and hope that these men will just get disgusted like I did and move to the online world can I? Maybe. But secretly I think every woman is hoping that one day she will be walking down the street, catch the eye of some ridiculously charming man and wham! She’s in love. I’m not a betting woman, but I’d venture that stuff never happens, except in really predictable Hollywood movies.

However, maybe the problem is that I just haven’t been open to meeting people outside of the online. Of course I pay attention when I pass by a cute guy on the street, but in NYC, staring a little too long may get you in trouble. So watch out supermarkets, coffee shops and parks! Kassandra is on a man hunt.

Ignoring the Inner Bro Voice and Dialing that Number

One of the age old questions in the dating world is “How long should I wait before I call her?” And yes, I am using the word “her” because if a guy gives a girl a number we don’t blame this stupid game of “waiting it out” or having the desperation grace period expire. So yes men, this silly question applies to you alone.

All right, so you went to the club, you did all the right moves (for reference, please see “Oh Snap! That was your Best Move?” blog below) and you managed to muster up the drunk courage to ask this girl for her number at the end of the evening and oh surprise! She gave it to you! Now secretly most of you guys are running through your head at that moment torn with the emotion of thinking “I’m such a stud, I got her number” coupled with the nagging (probably true) thought of “Is her number real?” So, after your evening of sexually frustrated innuendo filled dancing at your favorite sweaty dance spot, you go home, fall into blissful sleep dreaming of your future lady…

BZZZZZ!! Alarm clock. Morning comes and as you sort through the haziness of last night you start scrolling through your phone and realize shazam! There’s a new number in there with a female’s name attached to it! Sitting there, you think about the amazing time you had with her, and your gut instinct is to call her right away and tell her what a great time you had and ask to schedule a date in the immediate future. But then, what I like to call the “Bro Voice” barges in. I call this voice the “Bro Voice” because that’s what it sounds like. It sounds like a misguided guido of a friend who embarks his many years of dating wisdom and drunk hook ups on you. Call it dating word vomit for the male-kind. Fellas, whatever you do, ignore the Bro Voice. Why you ask? Because your Bro Voice WANTS you to be single the rest of your life. He wants you to enjoy keggers, one night stands and never ever find a meaningful relationship with anything other than your hand and a bottle of lotion. (Now this may appeal to some of you…if it does, move on. Otherwise, REAL mean, please proceed with the learning installment.)

So, men, are you paying attention? Good. I am sick of this 3 day grace period nonsense that you all have hammered into every teenage boys psyche so much so that when they are full grown adults they let amazing woman after amazing woman walk by them left and right and they wonder what in the world happened. You think you are playing hard to get. You don’t want to seem desperate to call her. You want to have the control. Ok, ok, ok. I get it all. Trust me, I understand the fragile egos that are running rampant courtesy of the Bro Voice.

Fellas, if you had a good time with someone, why would you hesitate to share that with them? You know, as women that we love flattery. We love being told how amazingly awesome and wonderful we are. But better than that, we absolutely HATE the guessing period that inevitably occurs when a guy you gave your number to doesn’t call you. It drives of insane…literally. Because, as fairly heart over head guided creatures, we tend to wear our hearts on our sleeves and we like to have that part of our mental awareness satiated. So, do us a favor and satiate it. Call us. But keep it short.

Yes, I added that caveat. Making a quick call to a girl the next day, or hell, if you REALLY liked her, call her on your way home and keep it short and simple. A nice “It was lovely to meet you, I had a great time, and I really hope we can do it again” would suffice. No need to set up immediate dates at that time, but this brief interaction lets the woman know “Hey, he kind of likes me!” And that in return usually results in a “Hey, I kind of like him back!” The gesture does not go unnoticed and it makes her wait in eager anticipation of your forthcoming interaction.
So, after the brief encounter, call her within 24 hours of that initial call and set up a specific date. Oh, and gentleman, let me be real specific in the semantics of what I said. I said CALL her. Not text her. Not stalk her name on facebook or myspace and blow up her Wall. But actually physically pick up your cell phone and give her a ringy ding. The gesture is way more romantic.

Therefore…the lesson of the day is, ignore the Bro Voice. Tell him to go stag for the night. Send the wingman home and take home your girl that you woo’ed all evening. You worked for that number. You toiled hard to maneuver through the crowds to bring her drinks, and you showed off all your very best dance moves. Capture the moment and let her know she rocked.

You Look Like you Need a Spot

Normally, I tend to hate this time of year at the gym. Every year every single New Years Resoluter decides to make the resolution to hit the gym, eat well and lose weight. Which means a giant influx of gym-goers to my safe haven at NYSC. I was appalled the other night when I pulled up to the gym only to notice that some “creative” parking was going on in the lot. Annoyed, I rolled my eyes and trudged into the gym. Thankfully my gym is fairly large, so there were machines available.

So, as I’m working out, I notice that I’m still one of the very few brave females that wander over to the strength training equipment (specifically free weights). Women, why do you have this fear of walking over there? (Well…after this story I may heighten the fear, or alleviate it, depending on your personality.) I am no slouch in the gym ok. I’ve been lifting weights on a fairly consistent basis since I was in high school for sports. So, I know the basics and I know proper lifting technique, amount of weight, reps, rest time, etc. Couple that with my personality trait/flaw of hating it when people tell me the “correct” way to do something. (Correct is a state of mind don’t you think? I do.)

Ok, my story. I’m working out on a fairly standard arm curl machine, and I see this very good looking guy walking back and forth to the water fountain to get drinks between sets. So he passes by me a few times and as I’m listening to Beyonce’s “Diva”, I get a little air of confidence about myself and start giving my best sultry look in this guy’s direction every time he walks past. I will even shamelessly admit that I took my hair out of my ponytail and did my best hair flipping. Sad, but true. What can I say? He was hot. So I think I finally had him in my sights when I see him walk over to me. Inside, I get super excited thinking “Yes, I am sexy while working out and he’s gonna ask for my number! SCORE!” So said gentleman walks over and asks “Can I show you how to do that machine properly?”

WTF? Seriously? My face must have dropped, because my insides sure did deflate. Show me how to do it “correctly”?! Of all the things to ask, that’s what came to his mind? Damn. Even though my bitchy nature was raging and I wanted to say “Umm no” I let the nice guy show me the proper lifting technique. So, here I was completely embarrassed that some random guy at the gym decides to show me the best way to pump iron. I was completely mystified.
My guy reaction was to talk to one of my guy friends about this. So, I explained the entire story to them and after my rant, my friend just starts laughing at me. He said “Kassandra, he was trying to hit on you.” WTF again. That is how guys hit on girls at the gym? I’ll admit, I’m new to the whole picking up guys at my sweaty safe haven, but I do know it’s a primo place to meet guys. But still…I was confused. Why on earth would a guy attempt to pick up a girl simply by critiquing her? (That’s the way I saw it…a critique).

Then I began to dig a little deeper into this. Is this the male manifestation of being in power, in charge and inevitably their innate desire to “fix” things? I believe so. Men and women if you have been oblivious for your entire life do have separate languages, especially when it comes to flirting and romance. Women crave the sweet nothings, the compliments on beauty and grace (contrary to what you believe men, most of us really do not care to hear how bangin’ our ass looks in those jeans every time we go out). Men on the other hand love compliments and flirting about their strength, their power and their superiority to other men in their surrounding vicinity. And yes, my gym experience is a good analogy for this interaction. Because while I was seeking for a compliment on how I looked while I was working out by this hot gym guy saying “Hey you look so beautiful, let me take you out.”, he on the other hand wanted to show me his superiority and have me look at him with glowing, sparkling eyes and say “Oh thank you Gym Prince for demonstrating your superior weight lifting knowledge over mine and swooping me off my feet with your technique!” (And then I would swoon into a pile of dirty gym towels while he whisks me away to the steam room).

So, the dance of flirting with another person is knowing what a person wants to hear, rather than saying something so you receive the response back that you want. I think that made sense. Therefore, the next time you encounter someone you find attractive and you want to get to know them better, imagine what they would like to hear, and *gasp* tell them exactly that! Maybe they’ll get the hint to the game as well and play nice with responses back that you want to hear as well…and there’s your happy ending (both in the fairytale and extra special gift at the end of a massage sense). Wink.

Oh snap! That Was your Best Move?

Has anyone else noticed that dancing at the club has been less and less discrete about it's intent? And if you aren't familiar with the intent of dancing at the club...well, what rock have you been hiding under? For those club virgins, the intent is shhhhh....SEX! So normally they say you can tell how good the guy or girl is in my bed by the way they move on the floor. This is both true and untrue I have discovered. Some guys will seriously rock your world on the dance floor and make you beg for a back closet, but in bed...well leaves a lot to be desired. (So fellas who don't dance...have no fear of not being able to find a natural rhythm in the bedroom...the myth fails on this one.)

However...I'm beginning to think the originality of dancing on the floor has ceased to exist. For the most part of my life I've been surrounded by some pretty amazing dancers and I hope that I've learned from osmosis from a few of these people. I find that I do have fairly decent rhythm for a white girl, and my Jamaica friends claim they haven't seen a white girl with sicker moves than I, so I hold that as a fairly large compliment, though I know some of you are haters and would disagree. Either way, I feel ok holding my own on the dance floor.

As many people who know me there are two things that bother me more than anything at the club, 1) Side dancers. These are those dudes who are not quite sure what's really going on, so they come up to your side and for some odd reason start grinding up on your left or right thigh. Fellas...this is not attractive, nor is it very nice. 2) The only from behind dancer. If you are one of those guys that only creeps up to an unsuspecting girl and only dance up on her ass I'm going to think one of two things about you. One, you are ugly and don't want me to turn around and see your mug. Or two, you have no idea how to dance, so you want me to do all the work while you just rock back and forth. Neither option is worth my time or energy, except to embarrass you.

So the other night I got caught up in only from behind dancer. It was near closing time, my legs were hurting and I honestly was thankful just to have someone to lean into so the weight was no longer on my high heeled boots. Sorry random guy, that WAS your purpose. So we're dancing, I'm shaking my hips, not really feeling it, but more so playing along. All of sudden I feel this guy put his hands on either side of my hips and he starts thrusting. No joke. It was like awkward stand up doggy style, except I was standing straight up. At first this caught me by surprise and I thought it would just be passing phase for the chorus of the song. Nope. Two straight songs. Halfway through the first I was just amused so I wanted to see how long this champ was gonna go before he realized how worthless it was. Honestly, it was probably best that it was from behind because seriously my face must have been worth a thousand words. The boredom and annoyance was written ALL over my face. At least he was on beat though.

Seriously though, that's your best move? Which of your homeboys told you that golden move? Was everyone gathered at your house the other week and someone just came in and said "Yo, I discovered this new move at the dance floor where you seriously just bounce off a girl's ass all night! The chicks totally dig it!" I don't know, do guys talk about dance moves like that?

So...guys. If you really, and I mean really want to show a girl what you are capable of in the bedroom whether you can dance or not, don't thrust her until she walks away annoyed. The key...caress her. Put your hands on her hips, around her waist, up and down her arms, anywhere she gives you permission (don't get too nasty though...unless she says Miss Jackson if you're nasty!). This move seriously shows the lady you are into her. That you find her absolutely too irresistible that you can't even keep your hands off of her for two seconds. This will then convey to the woman your attentiveness...in the bedroom. Also, turn the girl around, have her face you. Stare into her eyes while you rove your hands around her and shake to the beat. Ahhhh you got her good now! And the next morning when you wake up groggy at her apartment smiling, send me a thank you note.

Did I lose my Swag?

The other evening over IM before I went out to New York with my favorite fellas, I mentioned that I felt like I was losing my edge. For some reason my swag just isn't what it used to be. (Maybe I've been eating too many cookies... ;) haha) Either way, the confidence at the club just isn't what it used to be. Normally, I would roll up into spots like I was the hottest white girl ready to rock every one's world with my rockin' hips and uncharacteristically rhythmic moves for a white girl from Ohio. I used to walk with this air of confidence and street meanness that to be honest I have no idea where it came from.

My ex once mentioned this mentality to me. He said the moment I crossed the tunnel into the city my whole demeanor shifts from cheerful Midwest transplant to street diva. I think that was something I picked up when I interned in Manhattan during college. As I relayed my internship experience to my sociology professors I told them I learned to write the words "Don't fuck with me" on my forehead when I walked around. To the point where I would be walking down the streets and guys would holler and say "Hey, smile beautiful!" Seriously I was being TOLD to smile.

So I feel like I began to own my Sasha Fierceness mentality, particularly when I would go out to the spot. I mastered the tousled hair look, and then suggestive glances while I sipped on my overpriced redbull and vodka. And then men would just flock, unless I had sicked my built in bodyguard team of guy friends for the cockblock.

Lately however I start to feel like the awkward white girl in the corner scoping the room in hopes for a semi-attractive looking guy to notice. I mean did my appearance change that much since the summer? Am I getting too old for the young bucks at the club? Or did I finally lose my cool?

Now I'm not claiming to be the hottest thing rolling into the club, nor am I claiming that every night is a winner in terms of finding guys. More often than not I get the roughest, grimiest, nastiest dudes rolling up to me, but at least the attention is forthcoming.

I know my confidence has sank the last few months due to the many personal outliers in my life. However, I'm beginning to think that the ugliness I was carrying on the inside throughout all of this turmoil has finally erupted and snuck to my exterior. Ouch. Maybe the battle wounds of months of unhappiness and personal stress and struggle finally caught up to me. As a person I tend to hide things and internalize a lot of things (surprise right?). So, I suppose this is my body's way of saying "Hey hold up. Fine. You want to damage our inside and make you an ugly person and you fail to see it? No worries. We'll project it until you actually realize what it's doing to you." Hello wake up call.

This is the first weekend I've had to reflect on some things mindlessly. Since the beginning of the year everything has been at full force, and my body finally took action and said "Uh huh, no more." (My body talks to me a lot apparently...) So, now I'm sick with a cold. Too hard, too fast obviously. In a way the sickness is a blessing, as is the snow outside which is forcing me to stay in the warmth of my apartment probably for the remainder of the weekend alone. I find it interesting and almost an evolutionary technique that human bodies have learned to slow us down when we're under great deals of stress by shutting down and impairing it from proceeding through things.

So, body I am listening. I hear you loud and clear now. My soul is tired, yet I promise to nourish you with good, natural food. I promise to exercise you at least 4-5 times a week to keep you sharp. I vow to rid the internal demons and cleanse the unhappiness through meditation and writing. And I vow to keep your mind acute and aware by providing nights of restful sleep and good books. But most importantly body, I promise not to be boring about all of this. I promise I nice mix of fun and dedicated healthiness. No longer will I either indulge until I collapse or discipline myself until my life is on auto-pilot. I promise to make plans to engage in the happiness that is lasting friendships and relationships, both with you and with others. This I solemnly swear. Hallelujah!! (That was my body rejoicing...)

Pardon me, is that Stetson you're Wearing?

Inspiration from this blog apparently happens anywhere. I was walking through Port Authority this morning after I had trotted off the bus and if anyone knows the good ol’ PA it’s not the best place to wander through. I believe it’s one of the remnants of pre-Guiliani New York cleanup in NYC. Seriously, it’s stuck in a time capsule of brown flooring and yellow rails from the 1970’s-80s. As I was walking along to my 9th avenue exit to walk to work, I’m strumming along to my Santogold CD on my ipod and I caught a whiff of something. (Normally whiffs of things in Port Authority consist of unpleasantries like homeless dudes or rotting food). However, this was a delectable smell of cologne. Ok, before you think I’m super creepy let me explain, because biology is on my side I promise!

Scientists around the world for eons have claimed that men and women are attracted to one another based on pheromones, or in other words your lovely scent. Obviously before the days of perfume and cologne this literally meant your natural scent. However, in my very fading knowledge of perfumeries, the purpose of the many perfumes is to enhance those pheromones. Therefore, as I’m walking I catch the smell of one of my favorite colognes ever! Lucky me! So now you’re probably wondering what the big deal of all of this is…

It’s simple. Men, wear cologne…PLEASE! The literally moment I inhaled that sweet, yet somewhat manly smell I was intoxicated, and I promise I’m not being overly dramatic. I was two seconds away from high-tailing it back around and walking up to said gentleman and asking him, “Sir, what are you wearing?” But, I figured it was before 9 A.M and I didn’t want to creep anyone out that early in the day before their morning coffee.

So many things in our lives are tied to the scents we associated with them. For instance, one of my co-workers said he cannot stand the smell of hot chocolate or chocolate milk because his parents forced fed some to him when he was 10 years old to take some medicine. I believe we all have scents along those lines that distinguishes aspects of our lives, particularly within relationships. Ladies, I’m sure you remember the exact cologne or scent that your man wore (when he did fancy up and wear cologne). If the breakup was unbearably excruciating I’m sure the feeling you get when you smell that isn’t the greatest right? Same for men. I’m sure you remember the shampoo smell that your woman showered with and it brings back good/bad/horrific memories to your psyche.

Of all our senses though, I think smell is the one that, pardon the pun, lingers the longest. It’s that one sense that I believe falls deep in our subconscious without us really recognizing exactly where our reactions to the scent come from. The question is though, can we ever really erase those scents from our psyches or are they always entrenched deep in the crevices of our minds to pop up at any given time?

WWGMD? (What Would George Michael Do?)

All right, so I have a confession. Word of warning, if you’d like to keep your image of me in your head that I am an amazing superwoman who is the epitome of awesomeness, then click that X up in the right hand corner right now. For those of you who are gluttons for punishment, or just get a kick out of me being opposite to my outstanding reputation, then proceed.

So, the other night I was laying in bed “thinking”. (Take from those quotes what you will…). Throughout my dating experience I’m always asked by friends, family, random strangers, etc. what type of man do you want. Whenever I hear this question I get a very weird reaction inside. Kind of like someone kicked me from behind and then proceeded to knee me in the side as I tried to get up. That’s kind of a violent reaction to a fairly simple question right? Well, after hashing out some reasonings, my only guess is that I get that queasy feeling in my belly upon hearing that question because my mind starts chanting “Oh you have NO idea what the hell you want.” And, as someone who has strung through too many dates and has been around way too many male friends and heard too many female friends complain about men, how do I NOT know the answer to that? After a few awkward moments of dawdling, stalling and uttering more umm’s and well’s, I give the very standard “Oh, he has to be smart, cute and funny.” How freakin’ original.

Throughout all of my eloquence, how did I come up with that garbage rolling off my tongue? And once again my head starts chanting “You have NO idea what you want.” So, like any good self-fulfilling prophecy, I started to believe it, and I started to own it. I even developed the very fancy way of sugar coating this into something deeper by saying, “Oh well, I hate saying a laundry list of qualities, I just go with my gut when I’m around someone”. BULLSHIT!

So as I laid “thinking” the other night I came to a realization of what I DO want. And…it obviously racked me a little bit. What I want? One word: Protector. A protector?! Are you kidding me? Of all of my preachings saying women, get your own, do your own thing, don’t let a man be the end all be all, and then this nonsense pops into my head? Oh take my feminist card now…if I ever had one that is.

But no, I’m sure it’s not that dramatic, but it still caught me by surprise. Literally the thought of coming home to a man who wraps me in his arms, looks me in the eyes and says “Baby, I will never, ever hurt you, and I will never let anyone else hurt you because I want to take care of you for the rest of my life” made me damn near burst into tears. YES! Why don’t men say that? Or better yet, why have men I met not say that? Do they exist? Please say yes.

Then I realized that is truly what makes someone vulnerable. All my life I have been taught to be self-sufficient. As an adult that unfortunately has translated into a bit of a character flaw in which I rarely if ever ask anyone for help. Being able to sit there and say to someone, “hey, I need you.” That’s vulnerability. Being vulnerable is not sharing your life story front to end, it’s not taking risks on something outrageous, nor is it crying pools of tears to someone. It is and always will be one person admitting to another that going it alone is tough, difficult and at times insurmountable. True vulnerability is trusting someone enough to lean on.

Call this my Ah Ha moment where I finally realized that maybe this was the missing piece. It was not me being picky, or not knowing what I wanted, or never meeting the correct man. All along it’s been me not willing to trust another person’s strength against my own. So in the philosophical words of George Michael, “Ya gotta have faith.”

Why Football Games Have Made me Bi-Polar

Warning to all, this may be an angry, disgruntled, or completely off-topic post simply because I'm fairly pissed right now. I of course being from the glorious state of Ohio watched my Buckeyes play tonight in the Fiesta Bowl, (aka The Buckeye Bowl for those who haven't noticed our appearances over the years). I swear I'm going to die of a heart attack during one of these seasons...I feel like I go through lifetimes of emotions in the span of two hours. Literally I went from the highest highs when Boom Herron ran for a touchdown with 2 minutes left and then sunk into tears when Colt McCoy threw a touchdown to Quan Cosby for the last minute score. So now I am up at midnight when I should be in bed, but I'm too angry to sleep.

Yes, I'll admit I'm the biggest sore loser out there right after a loss like this. I will bargain my way left and right out of why we lost, how we could've prevented it and even claim the all-being, loving God is just messing with me. (Yes I know that's low...God and I will have a heart to heart tonight to reconcile things I promise).

But in the aftermath of all of this I couldn't help but parlay some magical knowledge from these two gut wrenching moments of my brief history in 2009. Be prepared for me to drop some science on ya.

Everything is a competition to me. No joke. I'm not sure where this competitive streak or energy came from, because if you know my parents and even know my family you'd be like, "huh?" My mom, albeit somewhat crazy and over the top about many things is pretty calm about stuff. I hear the occasional curse word or see the red angry face when I've pissed her off, but I've never seen her be mad competitive. My dad, probably one of the most business savvy guys I know and competes on a daily basis with other companies is the coolest cucumber. I mean during football games I call him to rant simply for him to collectively calm me down with his logical reassurances. So, despite these two references of sane, balanced parents how did I end up with the recessive gene of the incredible Hulk when it comes to my competitive nature?

I think it began in childhood. (That's when we all get messed up right?) Those great formative years where things become as innate to us as Pavlov's dogs and their bells. I remember growing up receiving praise for beating out my classmates and getting higher grades, I won trophies when I beat the other girls at sports, and I even received recognition when I competitively beat people out for elected positions. It was like my sick little high. Forget drugs, forget alcohol, forget sex, my natural high was winning...and winning with an intent.

So you're probably wondering, ok so ummm how does this transcend to relationships, which is what this blogging business here is about right? Guiltily and sheepishly, I admit that I probably kind of sort of treat relationships like competitive games. Trust me this was all subconscious up until I just realized it in the heat of my scarlet and gray Ohio State tears. (So please don't hurt me if you were a pawn...) Anyways, I don't think it's as malicious as it sounds.

But think about it. So often I've told myself that, "oh I'm just picky", or "oh I can never find a man good enough". I really think the point is though that I just got bored once I had a guy in my grips...it just became un-fun after that. The high was gone. For instance, first dates there are always those initial highs when you meet someone for the first time that you're attracted to. There's the baiting back and forth, the flirting, the sexy glances, the conversation and then bam! You got him! That's when I'm like NEXT! That's so messed up isn't it? Ok I'm disgusted with myself now...super. Not at least I can go to bed depressed AND angry.

It's like that old saying where they say with guys that the girl is just playing hard to get and that guys like that and stuff. Well I must be the opposite because for some reason I start lusting after those guys that play hard to get with me. And oh lordy, if one slips out of my grasp just forget it, I'm practically obsessed with winning them back. Maybe this is why I keep slipping back to guys that treat me like dirt, because it's a competition to win them over and to give that final "A ha! Gotcha!"

So, lessons learned so far this year. 1) Don't go to open bars on New Year's Eve 2) Bad decisions aren't always bad decisions 3) Do not wait on a guy to catch up to you, love fearlessly 5) Don't make a guy your best friend, unless he's gay and 5) Marry a professional athlete because he will understand your crazy bi-polar sports issues. Amen sista, amen.

Losing "Boy" friends to Girlfriends

One thing that I am learning the older I get is the fact that it becomes harder to make friends as a single person. Think about it. When you're growing up and even in college it's like there's already a built in system for you to make friends. Wherever you go there's going to be people your age all conglomerated into one social setting, so it's bound to happen that you make friends. As adults, you somewhat have that in form of your job. But with jobs, there's no guarantee that you're going to find similar people to you, or people within your age group. Also, with work friends, unfortunately it happens that most of the crap you talk about is, well...work. And who wants that? However, the one thing I found very difficult is meeting new girl friends. Like I told my friend the other day it's not like you can just walk up to another female at the bar and go, "Hey wanna be BFF's?" Therefore, as an accidental force of social nature, most of my friends are males. Mainly because a lot of them are either failed attempts at dating and we just decided to be friends, or they are friends of guys that I have tried dating or have been set up with. Either way, my circle of friends is about 90% sausage.

Don't get me wrong, having guy friends is a pretty awesome thing. It's like having a built in security system. Going to bars is nice because they protect you from weirdos, they make sure you get home safe and they always ensure you have a good time. It's also nice having guys to talk to so you can get the other perspective on a lot of things in life. Unfortunately, like all things there are downsides. One of the biggest ones I've realized lately is that when you build friendships around something that may have started as something with a different intent, you are usually forced to bow out once these friends find girlfriends. Because once they get wind of you...well, it's over anyways.

Literally over the course of the past 2 months I have not lost one, not two, but THREE best guy friends because of this very fact. I'll admit it's depressing 1) because they were my best friend and 2) because I want a relationship too. For some reason I apparently have become the ubiquitous bachelorette that just is never, ever in relationships. I mean it's been over 2 years now and nada!

So maybe it is true that men and women can never truly be "friends" in the sense that there's always some sort of weird undertones that occur within and around those relationships. I mean I've been in those platonic friendships with guys before and for some reason, even once a rumor, or an inkling of a rumor starts that someone thinks one likes the other, things get weird.

Moral of the blog...any female readers out there that need a new BFF? Cause I'm down three, and apparently cannot rely on my bachelor male friends.

The Race to I Love Yous...and yes I made yous a word.

A friend of mine sent me this article on CNN a few weeks back, and I've been meaning to write my two cents about it, since I always feel my two cents should be given so much thought in regards to articles such as these.

http://www.cnn.com/2008/LIVING/personal/12/26/tf.women.say.love.you/index.html?iref=newssearch

Basically, the article is written by this "feminist" and yes the words are in quotes because apparently she's dealing with cognitive dissonance as well in this article. Her premise is that women should always let a man say those three little words, 'I Love You' first. Her logical argument is that it takes men longer to get to that love realm than it does for women. Imagine women you being in the EZpass lane, and guys are in the Cash Only lane. Therefore, she tells women to repress their feelings, hang back a bit and wait for the guy to come rolling in at 90 mph and catch up to you while you are doing the legal 65 mph.

As I read through the article I kept thinking well I sorta kinda agree with her and I sort of kinda really disagree with her. Even as little girls our mothers always gave us this impression that we are emotionally leagues above and beyond our male counterparts. We're told that little boys are not quite sure how to express that they like us, so they pick on us, pull our hair, call us names and push us. Our mothers just reassure that it's their way of telling girls how they like us while we come home crying from the mental and physical torture. (Oh I'm sure this will be another idea for another blog post by the way). Even in adolescence and into college we're continually taught that men are STILL behind us. That in high school we need to be the "adult" in our relationship and calm down those silly sexual urges our high school boyfriends are feeling all because we're the more mentally mature of the duo. Then we go to college where men who are old enough to die for our country revert back to mental aptitudes of teenagers once they discover their inch of freedom from the parental units. There once again our mothers are calming us on the phone when we burst into tears after our boyfriend hooked up with your sorority sister at last night's kegger. Mom once again throws out the "honey, don't worry, he's just not mature enough yet...just give him some time."

So....my question is when in the hell do the guys catch up?! And better question, women, why do we keep stalling our lives in efforts for them to get with the program?

I think it's absolutely ludicrous to walk through life with the mentality that you need to constantly "wait" on someone, or liberally make excuses for why they are not at the point you are at. Everyone is always afraid to make the huge leap and say "I love you" first. And the reason being is that honestly, I believe men and women have different visions of those three words. As I grow older and wiser I believe that the words I love you have slowly become a very convoluted statement that at times can mean everything and nothing in one breathe. Some people say it as endearment, others say it to get something the want, and others say it like it's a daily habit like brushing your teeth. (If you don't brush your teeth, then maybe that's a bad analogy...)

Regardless, why have we wrapped so much up into these three words? Of all of the words in the English language, these three words should be one of those unconscious statements that just blurts out of your mouth simply because you say it when you FEEL it. I also believe that if you care for someone, there should be no bounds on telling them how you feel in your heart. But, I do agree with one line in the article "only say those words if you're prepared to let him go". That, unfortunately happens. And it happens because of all of those associations that string along with those words. I love you tends to roll deep with this posse of groupies that tend to send screaming images of death into males psyches like kids, marriage, family, commitment, etc.

So maybe the key is in the preparedness. Good relationships always exist on good, open communication, so why hold something back like telling that person how much they mean to you in your head? It makes no real good common sense. Prepare yourself to understand that you do not need to hear those reciprocal words. The fact is that you are feeling a love for someone, a deep caring, a passion for their utter amazing-ness and you just want them to know that they are loved and appreciated by you. If you hear those words reciprocated, great. But if not, wouldn't you rather wait to hear those words from that person in the moment that they feel that too? Sometimes those words can knock you off your feet, and you know when someone is just saying it just to say it. Just pay attention to the feeling in you when you hear those words. If you don't feel that nice little warming sensation in your chest, it either isn't said with the right meaning, or you just don't feel the same. Either way, stop repressing things. Moments are meant to be moments. They pass us by too quickly and too often to let them go without expressing to someone the way we feel.

Feminist or not, we all are human and as humans it is natural to care, respect, value and cherish other humans, particularly ones that touch our lives. Trust me, you will regret not saying I love you more than you will regret saying you do love someone.

Bad Decisions or Just Mistakes I Needed to Make

Throughout our child and adult lives we all come to crossroads in life where we need to make decisions. Some of these decisions are life altering others are smaller decisions, but they still impact your life no less. After reflecting on this past year and also on the first few days of this new one, I am wondering if these were just bad lapses of judgment or if they were really some higher up saying that I need to make the mistake in order to learn from it.

I am a firm believer in all things fate in that things always happen for a reason. Such as the car in front of you going slow as hell, which forces you to drive slow which probably prevented you getting into an accident if you were going faster or saving you a ticket from your speeding ways. I always feel the universe has a sense of balancing itself, and that's the little ways it makes it happen. One of my favorite quotes in the world is by Aldoux Huxley when he said "Experience is not what happens to you, but rather what you do with what happens to you."

Since dating and relationships are all part of life and is a significant part of life, these people are all considered those experiences and what you do with them. I mean throughout my many dates I've been on throughout my years I always look back on them and discover something about myself. Seriously I could unravel all of my meaningful relationships and extract specific traits and qualities that each of them contained that I wish I could wrap up in a little box and tie it with a bow. However, maybe discovering these extractions have become my pitfall.

Instead of seeing people for exactly who they are, flaws, quality traits and all of the in betweens, I've realized that when dating someone I have developed this super sonar quality of honing in on everything annoying, irritating, frustrating and inconceiveably awful trait that person has. I'm beginning to wonder where I developed this own awful trait of seeing people in such a narrow scope. Sometimes I feel like on dates I'm just frantically searching for something bad in someone rather than glowing in their amazing qualities. Is this a fear of moving forward and onward? Or am I afraid that if I find a truly good man then I won't be able to continue this awesome blog? :)

Anyways, I think I'm off topic now. Regardless, we all make decisions where we wake up the next morning and smack ourselves on the forehead and say "What the HELL was I thinking?!" Maybe we weren't thinking is the key, not the problem. Sometimes things happen that we do look back and cringe about, but at the same time realize that we probably needed to make that mistake just to prove to ourselves that it was a mistake. Does that make sense? Maybe. I think it's that proverbial anecdote when your parents tell you "Don't touch the stove, it's hot." And just to prove it, we touch the stove anyways and more often than not have a nice little burn on our hand to prove it. I think relationships with people work along the same parallels. We're always told by our mommas and daddies not to date bad boys, or don't date a guy that will disrespect you, yadda yadda. Yet we ALL date those types of guys. I used to think it was just to disobey my parents, but looking back at things I think it was simply the fact that I needed to do it, get burned and walk away scarred, but at least I'm walking away knowing I won't need to go there again. Instead of looking at my hand for the scar this time, all I need to do is look in my heart.

How NOT to pick up a Lady on New Years Eve

So, this was my first official year spending New Years Eve in the city that never sleeps. Amazing right? I mean I've only lived here for almost 4 years. But, some of my friends came up from Ohio and we decided to start the New Year living large in the city. I'm fairly sure those caviar dreams faded away when we were drinking tall boys out of brown paper bags on 21st street waiting on line to get into the club that we paid $100 tickets for. Sweet.

Over the years guys have done all kinds of things to get a female's attention at the club/bar/lounge/wherever you meet ladies. They all range from the ingenious pick up lines to the surprisingly captivating comments about how your ass looks in that dress. All very romantic and uber charming. I thought I had seen/heard everything in the book given my penchant for driving the men wild at the clubs with my womanly mystique...until New Year's 09.

I'm downstairs having conversations with my friends, holding my dixie cup sized cup of what I think was a screwdriver. (Tasted like pure OJ to me). And it's a few minutes before midnight, so I think dudes began making their rounds to corral the leftover single girls. (Oh and by the way, apparently NYC is not the place for New Years as a single...EVERYONE is paired up). So I'm talking to my friends and I suddenly feel this hand on my tummy rubbing it like it's a freakin' genie bottle and he's going to get lucky and 3 wishes will pop out. Appalled that someone is rubbing my belly like a Buddha, I look to my left and it's some googley-eyed freak of a man and he gives me this look of "You know you want it baby". This is when I promptly shoved his hand away and flipped him off. Classy, I know, but it was one of those knee-jerk reactions.

What the hell? A tummy rub in the middle of a club? Who does that? Oh it gets super better.

Later in the evening this crew of kids were drunk out of their mind, probably re-creating their favorite night in college. So, I think one guy noticed my sour puss look on my face (this was after one of my friends got food poisoning and then the other two were waiting in line for the bathroom, so I was left to fend for myself in this social apocalypse). Therefore, said guy thought it would be super hilarious to come shove his ass in my face while I was texting my friend upstairs. Score. That guy got pushed too.

So...moral of the story. Avoid open bars. Avoid free mini-buffets. And avoid paying $100 for NYE tickets and sit at home with a bottle of wine...at least you know the company will be fantastic!