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!