Thursday, December 22, 2011

Your so-called life

Social networking is great for a lot of things, catching up with old friends, cyber-stalking your ex, or keeping family/friends informed of big life changes or good times.

But what I don't understand are the frequent updates that fall somewhere outside the lines of information and well within the boundaries of bragging.

You see... I think it's great that you love your husband "so so much" and I'm sure he thinks so too.

But well... I don't need to know each and every time he kisses you goodbye or brings you to a restaurant. Its the virtual version of PDAs.

If you consider your uncle Randy reading about how romantic Mr. Right is - does it not make you feel somewhat strange? Is it all that unlike kissing in the movie theater (with tongue) before the lights go down?

And next comes the question, what are you trying to prove to all your "friends," that your relationship is better than theirs? That you're oh-so-happy while on your dinner date that you're updating Facebook with mobile shots of your entree?

I don't know, but the last time I had a great meal with my man, I was too busy chatting, laughing, and old-person flirting to whip out my cell and update my status.

Sure, if everyone dredged up my updates, I'm sure there would be a brag or two, a senseless bit of self promotion, but at the end of the day, you don't know the minute to minute that my life, or my love brought to the table.

And when I know the ins and outs of your relationship, some years since I've seen you in real life, I can't help but wonder if its all a facade... Where you project the perfect relationship in an attempt to validate your current situation. One where the best things about dinner aren't the conversation or the company, but the price of the entree instead.

Thursday, November 3, 2011

Its not you, it's me

Hindsight offers us the advantage of blaming our exes for almost anything -- they are the reason the relationship failed, and only when we're feeling really kind, might we admit to it being "a compatibility thing."

The latter lets us believe that what ruined that relationship won't find itself in our new and improved union, so we ignore signs that certain problems always resurface, regardless of who we are with.

Some might have to do with our unchanging expectations or even our love of "bad boys" rather than "nice guys."

But every once in awhile we have to admit, that the issue is our own.
The reason the present feels suddenly just like the past is no one's fault but the person who happened to exist in both realities, us.

When realizing this, we might want to run away (again) and place blame elsewhere or ignore the situation because "that worked so well the last time."

But I think the reason some relationships succeed and others don't has less to do with the amount of love or lust found within them and more about our own ability to acknowledge problems while CHOOSING to move in a positive direction instead of fleeing.

It's about realizing we might be a little bit crazy after all, that we're probably hard to deal with after a long day at work, that we might be a little too needy or not quite affectionate enough.

As we find ourselves loving in mature relationships, wherein we know our faults and our partner's faults, it becomes easier to stay, easier to forgive, and easier to accept nothing is ever perfect.

This acknowledgment doesn't have to undermine our current relationship, the one worth staying for, but instead lets us accept that the past isn't necessarily riddled with bad people but maybe just bad choices and timing.

Because sometimes I have to admit, it wasn't him, or him, or him, or even us... it was me.

What patterns haunt your relationships and do you ever want to say you're sorry?

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Chapter what

"Promiscuity is like never reading past the first page. Monogamy is like reading the same book over and over again." - Mason Cooley

I saw the above quote in the book "Lust: A Dictionary for the Insatiable" (Don't ask... it's part of the Deadly Dictionary series).

And I. Liked. It.

Not because it glamorized my latest avenue of holy matrimony, but because it was honest, at least somewhat, about the reality of our choices.

Starting a new book is exciting, choosing it from the shelves and stacks at B&N comes with its own flirtation, and after looking over a few, we settle on what seems most alluring and most in tune with how we're feeling at that moment.

But where is the fun in reading only the first page? If the book is incredible, don't we want to continue reading? I've been guilty of reading the first chapter before moving on, does this simply make me a serial monogamist? Is the first chapter the equivalent of a 3-month relationship?

When it comes to re-reading the same book, over and over, of that I am guilty. There's a handful of books I love so much that opening them up for another round is like visiting an old friend and I sometimes find quotes and tidbits stand out to me more depending the place I'm in as a reader.

Does that make me someone who pines over lost loves? Or does it simply make me an avid reader?

Chime in - do you prefer to read the first page of many books or is it better to reread and rediscover the same book time and time again?

Thursday, June 30, 2011

Art camp

My (almost) 15-year-old sister will be venturing to art camp for the month of July where I'm sure she'll impress everyone with her skills and enjoy being away from home for weeks on end, without any parents to bicker or complain.

But man - I'm worried.

Not because I don't trust her judgment or her abilities, but because I don't trust anyone else.

She's the cutest, smartest, cutest, smartest 15-year-old ever.

You know that awkward phase we all go through? Where our bras are like cotton hangers and our complexion is pimpled while greasy bangs fall in our faces?

Yeah. She skipped that phase.

She's tall and lean, smart and witty.

Wishing her well in the coming adventure is a given, but I certainly hope all the stories I've heard about adolescents and summer camp aren't necessarily true.

I cried during her high school play like a 9o-year-old grandma who would never step foot in an auditorium again. I celebrate her birthday with tears while whimpering "when you were little..." far too many times.

So we're just going to file this one under... "Reasons I'm not a mom yet."

Because loving little people hurts.

PHOTO: 2006 - When "Build A Bear "was still cool

Friday, June 24, 2011


I don't think I've had a mushroom in at least three years.

Nope, not one.

Every entree is ordered "without mushrooms" and steaks are served with onions but never the typical squishy counterpart, but not because I don't like mushrooms.

It's because he doesn't.

He doesn't like the thought of them, the look of them, or at worst, the taste of them - at all.

And as someone who has a particular aversion to certain kinds of fish, I can appreciate the idea that some foods just don't do it for us.

But after looking through old photos, I realized my life, when looked at through a particular lens, can be seen as a series of relationships dictating my actions.

Wanting to please, be supportive, remain appreciative, I've let certain aspects of my personality falter, remaining sweet on days when its only venom I seem to taste.

For whatever reason, I fear being "that wife." That wife who bickers and complains about household chores, that wife who rushes from wedding to baby planning, that wife who gives him a hard time about... well... essentially him being him.

And so I wonder why, since I'm so in tune with how HE FEELS, why I don't spend more time being HONEST with how I FEEL.

Because sometimes, dammit, I want mushrooms

Thursday, June 16, 2011

The Now Whats

For much of my past I had a clear goal in mind.

The 5-year-old me wanted to learn to read, the middle-school me wanted to be high-school-me and the high-school-me longed for college.

After a few acceptance letters and a choice, it was then a typical goal: graduation.

Then the job search began. Goal: Journalism industry.

Annnnd. Done.

With the "learning and job" thing under control, I focused on finding a man.

After far too many ups and downs and a slew of losers I'm embarrassed to wave to now, I found that too.

Man. Check.
Marriage. Check.
House. Check.
Job. Check.
Health insurance. Check.

And then came the crushing feeling of wondering... what now?

With my focus no longer on what I could change on the outside to be "happier" I was suddenly left with only me.

Me. Living a life I thought I wanted. A life I worked for. A life "accomplished."

But instead of feeling fulfilled and finally happy, I'm consumed with the urge to push forward, toward something, something more, something different.

The only goal now - is change.

Friday, April 22, 2011

So over

After stumbling upon the website "" I couldn't help but create my own lists of all those times I knew I was finished, even if the relationship took a bit longer to finally fizzle out.

I knew it was over when...

He was upset that I had other plans. To stay home. Alone. And take a bath. After doing everything together for far too long, that was just too much.

He wore the same shirt for three days straight.

I uttered the phrase "He's nice, he's just not smart enough for me."

He insulted my body to another man in the hopes that it would help "keep me safe from that guy's advances."

He thought "Beer Wars" was the best movie ever. Seriously. BEST MOVIE?!

He declined a picnic for "fear of bugs." (Real Man = Not-Afraid-Of-Ants.)

He said - "You don't need a guy like me, I'm crazy." And. Meant. It.

Your turn:

When did you KNOW he/she was not the one?

Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Come here often?

Nearly all of my single friends in their late twenties and early thirties are members of some sort of online dating service.

And while I don't think there is anything inherently wrong with online dating, it's a practice I could never get behind successfully while I was single.

I joined at least one site for all of 2 weeks and realized I had little interest in maintaining an account while fighting off advances from men who were decades beyond my "desired age bracket." The few worthy suitors who approached me ended up being evidently crazy -- as I was too busy with real life to catch up with virtual friends.

After hours of discussion with those still in the throes of Cupid's web of dating options, I think I finally realized why it all felt so awkward...

Starting a conversation in person means seeing someone of interest and commentating on what immediately strikes you.

Nice hair, eyes, smile, laugh, shoes, drink choice.

But with online dating, you're immediately armed with too much information about your love interest, from their astrological sign, favorite food, favorite book, movie, and beyond...

With all of the typical newly-dating questions have been answered, what is left to talk about?

It's likely you already know how they prefer their eggs in the morning.
Not because you've had the pleasure of making them after a long night, but because they told you and everyone else who can view their profile.

And so I wonder... how does one begin a conversation successfully in the online dating world where a person exists not as a three dimensional mystery but rather an entry in love's modern encyclopedia?

It seems the "I like your profile, you sound interesting" approach is likely to get old fast...

Consequently you must come up with something original, something thought provoking, something that gives your most flattering photo a leg up.

Because instead of being "the hot one" in a bar full of unemployed alcoholics, you're just one of many on the world wide web... where the competition is as endless as your search parameters.

Wednesday, February 16, 2011

Mrs. Peter Pan

(cue Peter Pan's "i won't grow up" song NOW)


Seriously. I have.

I thought with the departure of two odd blog writers, the conversion to a just-me based conversation, and becoming a married woman indicated it was time to possibly retire this blog.

But a quick look through the drafts section proves me wrong. I know it's been months since I wrote a thing, and there was a medical emergency hiatus in the months of September through December where I failed to write, but when I re-emerged with relationship questions/advice plenty of readers were there to comment and encourage a come back.

Only after realizing I have little interest in writing about all things homemaker did I acknowledge how badly I missed the "me" who wrote for this blog. The "me" with a voice far too brassy for elegant conversation, the me who wears 4 inch platform heels rather than an apron.

AND SO: I'm back. At least... I think maybe. (cue Justin Timberlake or... maybe not.)

What I need is some help from you readers. Comment below and tell me your favorite posts, what you miss, and what topics you want to hear about. I want to think of this as a transition rather than an end...

Of course, no one wants to be the last to leave the party...

But if my memory serves me correct, leaving first means you miss all the fun.