Redo

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

My words are:

plates ~ hobby ~ favorite ~ mystery

They were submitted by: https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog

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It all started after a breakup.

I mean, sure, it was a a particularly bad breakup especially since it was Dee who got cheated on and walked in on it all, but my own advice had been to find a hobby to sink herself into instead of crying over an asshole who had never been anything but mid in the first place. And I'm not just saying that because my friend had gotten cheated on. Jake really was an absolute trashbag. The only reason he was even mediocre was because Dee made sure he bathed and kept a job. I never understood what she saw in him. So yeah, I thought she took my advice and got a hobby.

But that's where the normalcy ends. And Im telling you I don't know what to do about any of it now.

So we had that discussion, right? I say "get a hobby" not in a condescending internet "touch grass" kind of way but in a "you need something to keep your mind off the pain at least at some points in your day" sort of way. It wasn't flippant. I genuinely thought it would help. Sitting around in the same clothes for 5 days binging Gray's Anatomy for the 15th time isn't exactly what I would call a therapeutic approach to getting over a breakup. She'd done that for a month by the time we had the talk about hobbies. She'd wallowed in the pain enough. She dwelled on it. Lived in it. She still had the same rose colored glasses on when it came to Jake as she did in the beginning, you know? So I went over to her house with a big pot of chicken and dumplings, some mini apple pies, and a butt load of cornbread--her favorite foods. I put her ass in the shower, cleaned up, and helped her dry her hair, and then I went through a list of all the times Jake had been an asshole in my presence. I went through all the times he'd knowingly hurt her. I didn't pull any punches. You know that meme template with Melissa Joan Hart and all the plates? It was like that but all the plates were things about Jake she hadnt ever wanted to admit. And I kept count. Then I asked her to sit down and make a list with the same number of items but about times when he made her feel loved and appreciated and valued in the 5 years they were together.

We all know how this goes. And I think or I thought that was the turning point. She seemed lighter by the time she finished her bowl of dumplings and looked at that sad ass list. Really thinking about the reality of him as a partner and not just the truth she'd made up to keep herself sane made her feel better about him being gone. She was actually angry that she'd spent this much time crying over him.

It was definitely a turning point but not the one I thought.

She did the thing a lot of women do after a bad breakup. She got her hair done--fiery red--and started working out. The gym membership turned to martial arts because she might need to defend herself if "things go wrong" which should have worried me but I let it pass. All women have thought like that about getting back into the dating pool with men... She traded Gray's Anatomy for going to a psychic. Weird but maybe she was getting something out of it? At least it wasn't texting Jake that she missed him and crying into a wine stained sweatshirt that used to belong to him. She also spent a not insignificant amount of time sort of cataloguing her life in a journal of sorts but she had spent a lot of time narrowing things down to 5 minute windows if she could find the right data to get her to that conclusion which.. also weird. But not alarming really? I thought maybe she was really pouring over these memories and events so she wouldn't make the same mistakes again. Funny how that turned out to be true but not in the way I imagined.

I came over a few weeks later and found her pouring over some kind of science textbooks. I have zero ability to understand quantum physics, so I had no idea what the fuck she was actually reading at the time, but she seemed to be enjoying herself. And even though something was nagging at me about it, I figured learning some new stuff was better than pining over an asshole. I'd been the one to tell her to find new things to keep her occupied and not stalking his and his new girlfriend's socials looking for things to upset her. I told her to keep herself occupied. And she was... I just didn't think it would end up being the worst advice I'd ever given.

You see I thought I was being honest. I'd made the list right? I'd just wanted to take the blindfold off. It was such a fucking mystery to me that she still, after all he'd done, loved him so naively. So fully. So undeservingly. I wanted her to see that he wasn't worth all the bullshit she was putting herself through. I wanted her to decide she could rebirth herself from this mess better and stronger and more capable of seeing through men's bullshit now.

I guess I just didn't realize how angry she was? She got herself in shape. She did the hair thing we all do. She poured herself into learning some science and then I showed up tonight and she has a new shed. A workshop of sorts really. And, well, there was this giant metal thing she was WELDING on when I walked in... I've never seen her do anything of the sort. So I ask her, ok? Of course I did. I ask her what she's working on.

Her answer? A time machine. She consulted a fucking psychic who put her in touch with someone who gave her the blueprints and the books. A time machine. She says my list made her realize how much of her life she wasted on him and now she's going to go back for a do-over. A repeat. A don't go on the second date type of situation. Leave him high and dry on the first date sort of thing. She quit her job to do this full time because she says she's going back and will still have the job and I don't know what to do because she's ruining her life for this. I wanted her to be mad but not like this. Who do I tell? What do I do?

I think I'm gonna go find this psychic and kick her fucking ass because who in the fucking world suggests time traveling?? But then what? I have nothing good to say about the guy and she didn't want to hear any of my "naysaying" tonight. I didn't really get her into this mess--not entirely--but I definitely didn't help matters, so I have to do something, anything.

But how do you talk sense into someone as blinded by rage as they were by misplaced love? Rage that I planted the seeds for? I'm coming up empty on this one sitting here in her living room and listening to the sounds from the workshop...

Wait. What was that flash just now? What the fuck made that sound?? 

Oh my god. Did she...?

______________________

Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:

Baking In A Tornado https://www.bakinginatornado.com/

Climaxed https://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com

The Diary of an Alzheimer’s Caregiver https://thediaryofanalzheimerscaregiver.com/blog
On the Border https://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/

Opinions Are Like Assholes: everyone has one but not everyone wants to see it

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This week 7 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

my “Secret Subject” is:

Are you able to be close friends with people who think differently than you do? Or do you think that friends have to have similar core beliefs in order to be close?

It was submitted by: https://Bakinginatornado.com

                                                ___________________________________________

I feel like my answer to this might not win me any friends, but by the end it will probably become clear that I'm okay with that.

Fundamentally, I don't think I can truly answer this question without clarifying what we mean here by "think differently."

Since having chronic fatigue syndrome I experience a lot of cognitive issues. Memory loss, executive dysfunction, loss of balance, trouble speaking words even when I know what they are and trouble recalling words period, trouble thinking clearly... It's a long list. And I guess at this point my brain works differently than what is "normal." I'm not neurotypical. I have friends like me. I have friends who are neurodivergent on a developmental level. And I know people who are neurotypical. We literally think differently, and not one group of us is better or even better off. We're different. End of.

Are we talking about someone who thinks pineapple not only belongs but MUST be on pizza? Because despite how "differently" I feel about it--like someone who eats it is the wrongest kind of wrong-- I love someone who is like this albeit begrudgingly. I feel some kind of way about this blasphemy to everything that is good about pizza, but who does it hurt for him to eat it? (Obviously besides my own feelings.) Superficial opinions like this are fine. You want to put mayo on things? Knock yourself out even though I hate it with the fire of a thousand suns. Don't like the color purple? Ok. I don't get it but I can still love you. Hate The Big Lebowski? Well, I might not think much about your taste in films, but ultimately you're only hurting yourself here so what does it matter in the end? I mean, I'd like you better if you got my constant references, but we could still be close. I have core fundadamental beliefs about foods and movies and music that I think are important to who I am as a person, but if someone I love doesn't agree I silently judge but we can still be close.

I suppose though this prompt is perhaps more about politics and those kinds of core beliefs. And once we cross into that territory things are no longer simple. When we discuss politics we aren't usually talking about how we think the President should use the Federal Reserve to react to an impending recession. We aren't typically talking about states using income or sales tax to fund their budget. Admittedly even those topics can understandably get heated, but more times than not we're arguing over fundamental differences in VALUES. How I feel about socialist programs, queer rights, feminism, reproductive health, anti-imperialism, and nationalism involve respect for humans, help for humans, and basic human rights aligns with how I view the world, society, and what I see as important. These things are no longer just an opinion. They're a reflection of my morals and concern for my fellow human beings. It's not the same as saying you don't like cake which, yeah, fucking sucks but not nearly as much as it sucks to know someone thinks my trans friends shouldn't exist or have access to equal rights. How can I have people in my life that think so differently about my and my friends' and my own child's right to exist? How can I be friends with someone who thinks people like me who can't work are a drain on society? How am I supposed to respect someone who doesn't think food and water are basic and fundamental human RIGHTS????

The answer is an easy one for me. I can't.

I can't wait around for some asshole who doesn't understand that my kid's genderqueer identity doesn't mean he's mentally ill to finally get that he's a person just like anyone else. I can't spend my time arguing with them over it hoping maybe they'll come around. I can't wait for the Trump supporters that still lurk around in my life to finally see what so many others do... it's not just a "think differently" situation anymore. I have to look out for my own and my kid's safety. I was out of the closet in the 90s. I know how much is at stake. I've been threatened with violence from the moment I was out and throughout my life. I don't have room in my life for people who lack basic respect for human life unless those humans love, live, worship, and have sex the exact same way they do.

My point is that at the end of the day we don't "think differently" when it comes to politics more often than not. What we have is an absolute mismatch of values, ethics, morals, and understanding, and with that difference comes a lack of respect and unconditional love that is an absolute requirement for a close, personal relationship. Can we be friends? Maybe but probably not. Not really. But we absolutely can't be close. At best I can stand in the outfield and not wish illness or harm to come to you or yours but that's as good as it's going to get.

When it comes to having those same core values and beliefs but thinking differently about how to achieve those goals or the root causes of identifiable issues or perhaps how to make changes to or reform or deconstruct systems, there's less at stake here. When I think of someone who is "different" than me, it's not these issues that come to mind because we don't "think differently" in my eyes. We have a different approach. We aren't so fundamentally different that working together and having mutual respect is impossible. And there lies the crux of the issue--how differently we think really matters in how to approach this question and these relationships.

I've never minded cutting people out of my life that treat or react to people badly. I'm not gonna be your friend if you don't tip in the u.s. either. I mean really. I don't mind cutting out people that don't make me feel good, that I groan when I see it's them commenting or texting or calling. I have one life, and I'm not giving it to people who make it shitty. The end.

                                      _______________________________________

Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

Baking In A Tornado https://www.BakingInATornado.com

Spatulas on Parade https://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com

Wandering Web Designer https://wanderingwebdesigner.com/blog

A ‘lil HooHaa https://hoohaa.com/

Southern Belle Charm https://www.southernbellecharm.com

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch

Exes

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This week 6 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts.

My  “Secret Subject” is: You’re grocery shopping & run into your “first love”. What do you do? What do you say?

It was submitted by: https://wanderingwebdesigner.com/blog

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Here's the thing about relationships: I don't do them often.

 I am commitment phobic, independent to a fault, and I have high expectations in a partner. Not too many people understand that and can jive with it, and I can't stand most people, so my relationships have been few and far between. I don't have many exes at all, and those I do have I don't have some weird bad blood with. There is only one person from my early high school days with whom I will never speak again, but that had more to do with things he had done before we met over anything that happened between us while we "dated"...and I mean, does high school even count anyway? Either way, my first actual love came a few years after, but either way I just don't have a lot of hate or anger when it comes to the few people I tried the commitment thing with...

 Here's the thing about first loves: I don't think I was able to have one in the same way a lot of people do.

 Being sexually assaulted at 13 changed me forever. Even my first really serious relationship wasn't uncomplicated and without baggage. I held back, grew depressed, and was a large factor in why it ended. I absolutely couldn't be happy, and I couldn't be confident or feel safe. I had entirely too much anger and resentment, and I couldn't relinquish any little bit of control. A lot of that stemmed from trauma, and in so many ways everything from the moment that trauma occured has been shaped by this sliver of time in which every part of me was violated and rebuilt into someone wholly different. I died for someone's 2 minutes of pleasure and became someone who had REALLY BIG ISSUES to work through. Love was always and will always be a very complex topic that needs a lot of navigation for me, and since it happened so young, I didn't get a chance to explore love and relationships without that stain of trauma. 

Here's the thing about MY first love: A part of me still loves him. And always will.

 There's no anger or resentment that he couldn't handle me as a mess. I'm not angry that he, too, was a mess. He's probably still a mess to be honest. He was (is?) a beautiful, dorky soul. We didn't remain friends, and honestly, sometimes I miss that friendship. It got me through dark times in high school before we dated after graduating. We were friends first, dated for a bit, got our first apartment ever together. It was freeing but chaotic and stressful. Between always hurting for money and the messes we both were, we destroyed what we had. So what I ultimately mean is that there's no reason for it to be tense and weird because we dated. We made good memories and really loved one another...it just wasnt the time and place in our lives for things to work.

 Here's the thing about social standards: fuck 'em.

 I know it's supposed to be weird and taboo to run into someone who saw you naked a bunch, but I just don't operate that way. I'm still friends with several people who have seen me in all kinds of states of nudity, who I have shared myself with just once or plenty of times. It's really not all that odd for me, and it wouldn't be a factor in how I reacted to seeing this person.

Finally, here's the thing about unexpected social interaction: I avoid it like my dog avoids me anytime she hears the word "tub."

 If I saw him anywhere, I might duck and run like I do when I see anyone I know because I hate social interaction, but if we happened to wind up in the same checkout line, I'd speak and treat him like anyone else I feel forced to socialize with--like I'm the most awkward human being in the world or perhaps an alien just getting used to posing as a human for the first time. I might respond to questions like "how've you been" with "thanks, you too" and turn 15 shades of red in a record .2 milliseconds. Rest assured, though, that's how I am with anyone not just someone i gave my battered heart to nearly a couple decades ago.

So. If I ran into my first love...it'd be just another thing.

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Here are links to all the sites now featuring Secret Subject Swap posts. Sit back, grab a cup, and check them all out. See you there:

Baking In A Tornado https://www.bakinginatornado.com/2019/01/team-summer-secret-subject-swap.html?fbclid=IwAR1JVZUKpAytvUQ-5UEHGTRvgi85AZ20ZNIyX_siCSUSlpFri4P1SizPD6Q

Wandering Web Designer https://wanderingwebdesigner.com/blog

Cognitive Script https://cognitivescript.blogspot.com/2019/01/jasper-jan-2019-sss.html?fbclid=IwAR2w-WszcjXApy401KzHhZhiO_E9GvMHEF6wgs-GbOREe1UA0e7EYy34UXg

Southern Belle Charm https://www.southernbellecharm.com

The Bergham Chronicles https://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com/

Part-time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch       

Free To Sign

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

My words are: showers, rock, notary, mailbox, highlighter, pinwheel

They were submitted by: https://sarahsbrandcrazy.blogspot.com/

*not autobiographical*

_________________________________

The papers had to be signed in front of a notary...which was fine of course. Even the thought that she would finally be free made her feel lighter, capable of a smile for a change. As soon as it was done and filed, she could start over, rebuild, figure out who she was and wanted to be.

Just one more step and a little more waiting...

For the last 13 years being married to Brian she'd felt like a pinwheel. She was at the mercy of his temper, blown by the winds of his moods, beaten down by his storms, unable to stop the showers of his rage or his punishments and their effects on her. For so many years she was treated like a pet not his wife at the best of times and a punching bag at the worst. Every small problem in their life would send Brian spiraling into hurricane season ultimately ending in a category 5 storm she would never outrun. There was no way *not* to rock the boat no matter how many times over the years she told herself if she just kept quiet, kept out of his way, kept the house spotless and made all his favorite meals everything would be fine.

It hadn't started that way. He was perfect when they were just dating. They were still babies really...fresh out of college with their whole lives ahead of them. She worked to put him through grad school for the first few years, then came marriage and what was supposed to be her turn at getting her master's, but Brian had other plans. He'd darkened by then. One by one her friends slipped out of the picture. She couldn't go out. She could barely answer their calls without weathering a Brianado. He interfered with her relationships with family, refused to let her work anymore even on her degree, and never let her out of the house after dark without him. GPS on her car tracking her movements, security cameras in the house... Once upon a time she had a full life, her independence, friends, a loving family then one dat she realized she had no one but Brian. And according to him, no one else would want her anyway.

She took the blame as belonging solely to her because what else could explain the change? For so long she thought it must be her own doing for not being enough or being too much...

Until she didn't.

Maybe it was a slow evolution happening in her subconscious that she wasn't quite aware of in her waking world, but it felt like it sprung on her overnight--she was absolutely NOT going to do this anymore.

He'd stopped allowing her to say "no" to sex a long time ago...but when he started getting violent with it ramming inside her in the middle of choking her out, something inside her woke from a dead sleep like Godzilla rising from the depths. The first time it happened she was so numb it hardly registered, but the second time? She was filled with a blinding rage burning so hot it terrified her. She clawed his face screaming at him to get the fuck off her. He was so used to her complacency that the shock was enough to get him to step away. Before she even realized what was happening, she felt her knee connect with his still exposed crotch, and when he doubled over in pain, she dropped to one knee and shot her fist into a sort of uppercut right into his nose.

That's it? she remembered thinking. All this time and that's all it takes to knock this motherfucker out? She didn't dwell on it for long though before she was up and out the door. She ran screaming to a neighbor's house, clothes torn, lip split, and eye already bruising from the beating she had been taking when he... when he... she couldn't bear to even form the words in her mind.

It was over now though. Done. She was done. The police were called. She DID press charges. She DID stick with it even through the nice guy routine, even when some of her friends and family believed his bullshit and took his side. She kept going even through the weakest moments, even when she no longer recognized herself in the mirror, even when she felt her most lost. She found that little bit of herself that refused to be beaten down hidden in the deepest pit and unleashed it. This beast, this new version of her, would be her new beginning.

She didn't expect the divorce papers in the mailbox that day. She really hadn't expected him to give in without a fight, but he'd already moved on, found himself a new sweetheart, Tracy, who promised to love him the "right" way so his monster never showed its face. Maybe this new girl would learn Brian was the monster. There was no soothing it into peace like it was just a part of him that needed pacifying. Brian and his monster were one and the same even if he wore a nice guy costume when it suited him. And maybe Tracy would learn that before it cost her life.

Either way, the papers would be signed and initialed on every line marked with neon highlight in front of a notary as soon as she found one--an end and a beginning.

___________________________

Links to the other “Use Your Words” posts:

Baking In A Tornado https://www.bakinginatornado.com/2018/05/pomp-and-circumstance-use-your-words.html

On the Border https://dlt-lifeontheranch.blogspot.com/2018/05/hold-onions.html

The Bergham Chronicles https://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com

Southern Belle Charm http://www.southernbellecharm.com

The Blogging 911 http://theblogging911.com/blog

Cognitive Script https://cognitivescript.blogspot.com/2018/05/brunch-at-cafe-uyw-may.html

Part-Time Working Hockey Mom https://thethreegerbers.blogspot.com/2018/05/use-your-words-international-festival.html

My Brand of Crazy https://sarahsbrandcrazy.blogspot.com/

Interspection

I wrote this piece for a newsletter run by a pen pal and very close friend. I wanted to share it here for Sunday Confessions. Its about a term I coined called "interspection." The Sunday Confession prompt is "give" and since interspection requires you to give a piece of yourself to someone else, i thought it would be perfect.

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I read a story not long ago about a man whose life was saved by something I like to call interspection. This man was fresh out of the military and subsequently entered a downward spiral ending with his decision to kill himself. The night he planned to commit suicide he walked around his neighborhood one last time taking in the sights when he happened upon a woman crying in the rain. Instead of going on about his business like many of us would do, he spoke to her, checked on her, and eventually asked her if she wanted to get out of the nasty weather and have a cup of coffee. The two of them walked over to a diner across the street and talked for a good long while about all sorts of topics. They laughed and pondered life, traded stories, and for a little while forgot about their respective problems. After he came back from a quick trip to the bathroom, he found that she had disappeared on him. In the article I read, this man had recently posted an ad looking to get in touch with this woman because after a full life, he wanted her to know he thought about her from time to time even more than 40 years later, and that the connection he felt in that diner is what gave him the will to go on living.

Interspection is powerful stuff.

We all know what it means to be introspective, to explore our own depths, thoughts, and emotions, but when two people (or more) apply that same level of exploration and scrutiny to one another, you get interspection. Like the man in the story I read, interspection requires letting down your walls and allowing a person see you for who you are and seeing them for who they are as well. It’s a process unencumbered by the usual detachments and baggage that we typically bring to social relationships after a lifetime of experiences. With interspection, you willingly make yourself vulnerable allowing another human being to see a part of yourself that very rarely gets recognition while simulataneously peeling back the layers to reveal that part of someone else.

In that process, you learn a lot about that person but you also begin to realize new information about yourself. You see parts of yourself reflected in that someone else, and you begin to notice things about you that need growth and improvement. It’s natural of course to compare ourselves to others as a way to measure our own selves, a process that begins typically in middle childhood, but this, interspection , is more than a simple compare and contrast type of effort. With interspection, you also form a bond unlike anything you’ve experienced before it. It’s not love or friendship though those can certainly be a side effect; it’s a strengthening of the ties of humanity that reside within us all and a true exchange of empathy.

We live in a world currently where people seem like shimmering apparitions lacking real substance and a full form. You friend someone on social media to get 140 character quips and anecdotes for likes and shares. Photo highlight reels scroll across tiny screens to show us a moment here and there, but is that humanity? Can you capture the full essence of a human being in a couple sentences and a photo here and there? Or even in letters that talk about what happened that week and what the weather is like? I don’t think so. I picture the people I know and even with my deep desire for interspective relationships, I mostly get flickering shapes of others built on the tiny bits of life they’re willing to share with us all… We are always too busy, too absorbed with our own selves and too caught up in daily life to stop for just one moment and truly let go with another human being. We love but keep secrets. We marry but keep up our walls and defenses. We have unbreakable bonds with our children yet still hold back the truths of our existence from them. We are all but ghosts to one another searching for a connection but not able to grasp anything solid.

The lack of connection we feel to others, that inability to full grasp onto those ties that bind us to other human beings is painful not only to ourselves but all of society. When very few people in the world take on solid form, when we fail to be able to truly put ourselves in another person’s shoes and see the world from their eyes instead of just our own, it becomes far too easy to dehumanize others even entire groups of people. It becomes all too easy to become desensitized to the plights other people might face and to care only for the things that are within our own reach. What we lose by focusing on ourselves and our own daily struggles is the critical piece to the puzzle that could begin to mend some of the violence and oppression that plagues our society as it stands now.

Interspection can change that. When we enter the world intent on letting ourselves be vulnerable and intent on strengthening our ties to other human beings on the deepest of levels, we foster empathy, compassion, and even our own humanity. We recognize ourselves in others, but, perhaps for the first time, we also begin to see what it could be like living their life and having their experiences. Opening up in such a way comes with its risks, but the benefits, for each person and all of society, could be incredible. Every interspective relationship could reach far beyond its own two participants rippling out and changing how each person interacts with others, shaping worldviews, and altering the fabric that connects us all to one another.

Take a deep breath, let your walls down with someone, and watch the world metamorphose.

Relationship Anarchy

Today’s post is a writing challenge. This is how it works: participating bloggers picked 4 – 6 words or short phrases for someone else to craft into a post. All words must be used at least once and all the posts will be unique as each writer has received their own set of words. That’s the challenge, here’s a fun twist; no one who’s participating knows who got their words and in what direction the writer will take them. Until now.

My words are: deviant, haunted, desolate, transparent, wretched. 

They were submitted by:  http://www.angrivatedmom.wordpress.com

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Matters of the heart require a person to be completely transparent. I don’t mean that you have to tell someone you don’t like the way their eyeshadow looks that day (because maybe its not about your preferences), but you do have to be perfectly clear about what you want and how you feel.

I am, always. Transparent.

But, that doesn’t make things any easier for me.

You see, I’m sort of aromantic. That doesn’t mean that I can’t fall in love with someone. It doesn’t mean that I’m some sort of wretched creature haunted by the past who has had her heart stomped on one too many times or a desolate, lonely cat lady who can’t find love. I’m not some deviant who only cares about herself and has no regard for others. But, I can’t be in the confines of a traditionally defined relationship without feeling like I’m suffocated. I get depressed, anxious, lose all sense of self in relationships that come with all these expectations of how people are supposed to act and feel, what they do and don’t do, how they relate to one another.

The first reaction I get, typically, is a statement that I haven’t met the “right” man yet which doesn’t even make any sense to begin with since I don’t *only* like men. Regardless, the idea that everything I know about myself can be resolved or changed because of a man is a bit absurd. And then there are the people who assume I have a broken heart that just needs to find love to mend itself or that I need to get laid. There’s always a few people who believe I don’t really know what I want and need to figure myself out, or that I need someone to sweep me off my feet or that I have only had shitty relationships. I’ll come around. I’ll want to get remarried one day. I’ll stop wanting to have my cake and eat it, too. No matter how transparent I am about my thoughts and beliefs, rarely can anyone accept that they might just be the truth. Instead, how I feel and what I believe is treated more like a challenge to prove me wrong.

Not being heard is quite an annoyance to say the least.

The thing, for me, is that I don’t really need the labels. I don’t necessarily have problems being monogamous, but I don’t want someone thinking I’m not allowed to be my flirty self, that I can’t call on others for the conversations I crave, that I shouldn’t spend so much time on the people I write or my hobbies or writing period. And, in my own experience, even when the idea of a relationship is (even falsely!!) a remote possibility, I am expected to make changes that really aren’t me. I am perfectly willing to make comprises and sacrifices for someone I love, but I am not, absolutely not, going to lose myself in someone else’s insecurities while they attempt to control aspects of my life, theirs, and ours together that are truly beyond both of our control.

To me, any social relationship, even one without clearly defined labels, is existential in nature. It’s going to end. One way or another, the relationship will either run its natural course or at least one member of the relationship will die. It’s a fact of life. There is no escaping the fact that forever is sort of an arbitrary term that doesn’t mean what it implies. To me, and in my experience, promising someone forever is taken to literally mean forever, and both parties end up trying to control every little thing they can to ensure the other person’s promise is upheld. Controlling another person’s behavior, though, is really sort of impossible without a pretty severe level of emotional abuse. See, I can make a commitment, a promise, and focus on my own behavior, what I do, how I behave, and how I treat the other person, but I can’t *make* them treat me the same way, behave the way I do, or not sleep with anyone else. I can’t make them love me and only me for the rest of life. As human beings, it seems like controlling things is what we want to be able to do….but it’s just not the way things work.

My existential responsibility, then, is to enjoy what is in front of me while I have it because I really have no control over how long that person is in my life. All I can do on my end is love them, treat them fairly and with affection and the way I want to be treated. I can choose monogamy and hope that person does, too, but there’s no way I can put a metaphorical chastity belt on them with a label or a piece of paper. I can tell that person what I want and what I expect, but I can’t enforce that in any way, so why should I spend the time we do have together worrying about it? I’d rather just *be* with that person for as long as we decide it’s good. And when it no longer is, we can agree mutually to go our separate ways. Does that take a label or a marriage certificate? Maybe it does for other people, but it’s not what I want. I just want to appreciate what I have for as long as I have it with someone and live life instead of spending all my time worried about what the future with that person holds.

I concede that may be odd in the world today, but it doesn’t mean I don’t know exactly what I want and how to get it or that I need someone to come along and show me everything I knew about myself was wrong. In fact, I don’t *need* anything except coffee in the morning, hugs from the kid, and Halloween candy.

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Thanks for reading! Here are the links to the rest of the participating blogs: 

http://bakinginatornado.com Baking In A Tornado

http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com/ Spatulas on Parade

http://themomisodes.com The Momisodes

http://sparklyjenn.blogspot.com/ Sparkly Poetic Weirdo

http://www.southernbellecharm.com Southern Belle Charm

http://www.renasworld.com/ Rena’s World

http://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch Confessions of a part time working mom

http://batteredhope.blogspot.com Never Ever Give Up Hope

http://www.someoneelsesgenius.com Someone Else’s Genius

http://singlemumplusone.blogspot.com Searching for Sanity

http://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com Climaxed

http://dinoheromommy.com/ Dinosaur Superhero Mommy

http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com/ The Bergham Chronicles

http://www.angrivatedmom.wordpress.com The Angrivated Mom

http://eileensperpetuallybusy.blogspot.com/ Eileen's Perpetually Busy

And So It Goes

Welcome to a Secret Subject Swap. This week 16 brave bloggers picked a secret subject for someone else and were assigned a secret subject to interpret in their own style. Today we are all simultaneously divulging our topics and submitting our posts. 

My subject is: Tell the story of a relationship or a friendship that you let go and why you wish you hadn’t.

It was submitted by: http://Bakinginatornado.com

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Quality over quantity.

In relationships and friendships, that has always been the most important factor for me—the quality of the connection. I can interact with people who don’t share my values and belief system, but ultimately, the only way I can ever really connect with someone is to share those common beliefs and see in that person a reflection of myself. In a lot of ways, even in friendships I want proverbial soulmates.

Understandably, this makes things fairly difficult at times.

Part of the driving force behind that desire is having been in a family that, most of the time, made me doubt myself and chipped away at me at every turn. When I got old enough to realize the toxicity of a lot of my family relationships, I chose to stop participating in them anymore. I have zero connections to my dad’s side of the family and not many with my mom’s choosing instead to focus on my immediate family and the few close friends I have that I truly do consider family.

But, that doesn’t come without a hint of regret.

When I was growing up, my grandma (Granny) was a constant in my life. My brother and I spent a lot of time with her and my grandfather. We were there almost as much as home learning to cook, making forts, and being scared of bad weather with her. She spoiled us with candy, junkfood, toys, and letting us do whatever we wanted more often than not (like Grandmas are supposed to).

Then, she would turn around and tell us we were fat and needed to go on a diet. Even as young children she would give us a huge bagful of junkfood to take home then comment on our weight. She would play the attentive grandma then turn around and harp on the shapes of our bodies. The older we got, the more she complained about that and other things (like Grandmas are not supposed to).

When I was in 5th grade, my aunt died from a brain aneurysm. It turns out that my grandparents had offered her a not so small lump sum if she lost weight—down to something they saw more preferable. Granted, she was a fairly large woman, but that really wasn’t their concern. Still with her being a divorced mom of two boys who needed college and all that, she decided to take the offer. She had a stomach stapling (vertical gastric banding) to help in the process covered by insurance or worked out with the hospital she worked at or something like that. Afterwards, she would get sick after eating anything even remotely close to the amount she was used to and spent a good chuck of time praying to the porcelain god. That’s where her boyfriend found her one evening—she had gotten sick and the aneurysm ruptured. She was taken in for brain surgery, but things didn’t go well at all, and she ended up on life support, brain dead. My grandparents decided to take her off support not long after.

Essentially, they killed her metaphorically and literally.

If it hadn’t been for their insistent concern about her body, she never would have been so sick. She never would have had the procedure. She likely wouldn’t have needed the brain surgery. It could be that the aneurysm was already in place, but people can manage a happy life for years without ever experiencing the sort of rupturing she did or perhaps preventative measures could have been taken if it began to give her trouble. In many ways, it was on their heads for fixating on something that really wasn’t any of their business in the first place.

Imagine my shock and disgust when the same offer was given to me years later when I was around 19/20.

That’s the kind of toxic presence my grandparents played in my life. My weight was a direct reflection of my worth to them especially to my grandmother. My weight was more important, in fact, than my life. More important than a solid relationship with me. More important than unconditional love and support or any of the things that your family members are supposed to give to you.

My relationship with her (and with him) was strained at best after that. Nothing I did was good enough. Eventually I did lose weight but it was never enough. I was never enough. When my dad was dying with cancer, she would cry to me about how she was going to make it every time I called her, but she never talked about him. She never asked me if I was okay. When my grandfather died in 2009 and my brother and I went through his office just to look at all his old memories and what he kept finding comfort in getting to know him better through the items he chose to keep, through the things he carried from one house to another and one era to the next, she accused us of only being there to look for his will.

That was the final straw of a long string of incidents and a whole lot of bullshit.

I haven’t spoken to her since not that she has ever really attempted to call or seek me out, but it was always on my shoulders to have a relationship with her anyway—I had to make the calls and the visits and request her time never the other way around. I can’t see myself going back into that relationship with all the years of self-doubt and heartache it caused. It isn’t healthy to let someone who was supposed to love me exactly as I am constantly nitpick every fault and flaw she could find, someone who needed every bit of attention from everyone around her… a selfish hypochondriac with a booze problem that turned into a pill problem coupled with a need to put everyone else down to build herself up. Who needs that?

That isn’t to say there is zero regret in this decision, though.

I don’t want her, the person, in my life, but I do feel like I have missed out on having a really rad grandma that could learn to accept the tattoos and the weird hair and my individualized parenting style. And, for that, I do regret the loss of the last remaining tie I had to my dad’s side of the family. There’s a mixture of regret and relief in having let her go that seems contradictory but also entirely warranted given the callousness of the woman in question.

I want that relationship, that familiarity…the comfort in having a family member, even one, from my dad’s side of the family that could just *love* me for me and be fucking okay. But that’s not a possibility, so while I regret the loss of that part of my blood, I had to let it be and move on with my life for my own sake and for the boy’s. The little girl in me wants her Granny, but the woman I’ve become knows it just isn’t worth it.

And so it goes. 

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Now be sure to check out the rest of today's participants. Should be amazing!!

http://www.BakingInATornado.com Baking In A Tornado

http://berghamchronicles.blogspot.com The Bergham’s Life Chronicles

http://spatulasonparade.blogspot.com Spatulas on Parade

http://dinoheromommy.com/ Dinosaur Superhero Mommy

http://themomisodes.com The Momisodes

http://stacysewsandschools.blogspot.com/ Stacy Sews and Schools

http://sparklyjenn.blogspot.com/ Sparkly Poetic Weirdo

http://thelieberfamily.com The Lieber Family

http://batteredhope.blogspot.com Battered Hope

http://www.southernbellecharm.com Southern Belle Charm

http://www.someoneelsesgenius.com Someone Else’s Genius

http://www.silenceofthemom.blogspot.com Silence of the Mom

http://thethreegerbers.blogspot.ch Confessions of a part-time working mom

http://www.smalltalkmama.com Small Talk Mama
http://singlemumplusone.blogspot.com Searching for Sanity
http://climaxedtheblog.blogspot.com Climaxed

Candyman

I love candy. Truthfully, I love candy a bit more, actually, than I love men (sex with men is perhaps more apt though I do love my friendships with men as well) which is saying a lot. Not long ago, the idea surfaced in a Facebook status to compare two of my greatest loves, and with the Sunday Confession prompt being “without” this week, what better time to talk about two things that I am happier having in my life than not?

Each person’s personality is unique. Personality and all the complexities it encompasses depends on a variety of factors. Genetics play a role and weave an intricate web with environmental influences that builds and alters personality. Culture adds more flavor. Experiences add another layer. With age, development, and experience, personality is affected and is the sum of all we are—biologically, culturally, experientially, and beyond. All in all, personality isn’t something you’re simply born with…it develops and solidifies over time though it’s initial characteristics are typically seen early in life. Personality also often affects how a person interacts in interpersonal relationships especially when attachment style is considered. But despite the fact that each personality is as unique as a snowflake, there are several general categories of partners that we often deal with in life and love. These archetypes, while often differing in small ways, are general categories of our experiences in lust and love, and here you will find them in candy form.

Root beer barrels—old fashioned, a bit nostalgic, a throwback but not for everyone. Some people love root

beer, some people hate it. There’s nothing wrong with going the old-fashioned route if that’s your thing, though. He’ll have traditional ideas about what is expected of women, and while that doesn’t necessarily make him a bad guy or a misogynist per say, he’s not exactly progressive and might get old pretty quickly. A little of this one goes a long way. Do you really want root beer barrels every day for the rest of your life or are they mostly just an occasional treat, perhaps even a misadventure down memory lane?

Nerds—crunchy with a tang. Smartasses with a witty sense of humor that provide little comfort, nothing substantial. They’re fun but not good love material not the long-lasting kind and the flavor is over pretty soon after it begins and so is the fun truthfully…someone to enjoy every once in a while when you need a pick-me-up burst of flavor in your mouth.

Jawbreakers—so many layers that are all basically a different shade of the one before it. You wear yourself out trying to break through all the walls to get to the good at the center which never lasts long enough. It’s so much work for such little reward. You know they’re just not worth your time but you keep fucking doing it over and over again especially as they’re the most prevalent candy in your trick or treat bag.

A pretty piece of licorice—it looks so inviting with the adorable layers of white and pink. That’s the problem, though. It looks so fucking good, but the center is still black and vile. As soon as you pop it into your mouth and get a good taste, you regret it. And, in a few years, you’ll forget all about it and do it again…it just looks so tempting. That’s the problem, though, isn’t it? I mean, think about a hunk of dark chocolate. It’s so damn good, fulfilling, comforting yet it’s just a mass of brownness. A pretty package doesn’t always mean it’s going to leave a good taste in your mouth.

Cinnamon bears—they’re adorable, right? So cute in the beginning and they’re so yummy when you first get a taste. But, then the heat kicks in, their fiery little personas rear their ugly heads, and no matter how hard you try, you can’t get rid of them. They’re stuck in your teeth until you forcefully remove them from your life with floss. Or maybe a restraining order. Possessive, clingy, perhaps even abusive…these bears are better left untouched.

Salt Water Taffy—a classic candy with a burst of flavor that lasts but isn’t overpowering. It’s not too much or too little. One little taste is never enough, and before you know it, you’ve been hanging out with that bag of taffy for years and nothing else compares. You + Taffy = Best fucking friends forever. Perhaps the fucking is literal or perhaps it’s just thrown in for good humor but either way, it’s a comfortable love, passionate depending on the flavor but always a good thing.

Caramel—something about the buttery sweetness of a good piece of caramel is so indulgent. The softness of it against your tongue that fills your mouth with a bit of ecstasy is delectable. Caramel may not be all that passionate, but it’s so good…that familiar lover that you return to time and again because it always knows what you want, always makes you smile, and never expects more from you than you want to give.

Red hots—red hots are similar to nerds yet so different. There is so little substance there, but the heat, the passion can get so intense and addictive for a bit. In other words, the sex is always fiery and passionate but once you’re done with that, you two really have nothing to talk about and you’d rather just go on your way until the next time you meet again. Red hots aren’t really your candy of choice, but a dose of them every once in awhile surely does a body good.

As much as I enjoy my alone time, my solitude, I do find comfort in intimacy on my own terms. I’m not really into the whole traditional relationship thing as my list here probably shows since there’s not one archetype about the “marrying type” or long term loves, but that doesn’t mean I want to live my life without a connection to another human being which is often the inference people make when I discuss not having the desire or need for a relationship that meets their standard definition. The assumption quickly becomes that I live like a hermit without any human contact that doesn’t involve the internet. Perhaps one day that will be the case, who knows? But for now, I keep my candy, literal and figurative, around to satisfy my sweet tooth. It works for me. I’m not living without as others so often think of it. I’m living on my own terms that meet the needs I have at the moment instead of forcing myself to meet a set of social norms that don’t work for me just because it’s expected…and I am quite satisfied with my bag of taffy.

So, what did I leave off? What candy would you add? What kind of candy is your spouse or partner? What kind could you never live without?

This, of course, has been another Sunday Confession with More than Cheese and Beer. Please check out her blog for her own confession as well as those of other brave bloggers who link up. Check out her facebook page for anonymous confessions from readers. And most definitely check out the blog she and I run together DoucheArt to see what kinds of candy we could all live without ;)

All Your Balls Are Belong to Us

Truthfully, this title has nothing to do at all with the content of this post. Perhaps things will come full circle the way writing sometimes does. I would relish that moment and sigh a contented sigh like I always do when things work out that way--when an idea strikes you and you honestly make it work and work well. But, I'm not even going to lie and try to pretend like that will happen here. How could it when that line is twisted from a badly translated japanese NES game? Things like that don't come full circle. So, I'll just tell you that the more appropriate title is Why You Can't Give Up on Love.

No woman will ever satisfy me. I know that now, and I would never try to deny it. But this is actually okay, because I will never satisfy a woman, either.

This line is from an essay in Sex, Drugs, and Cocoa Puffs by Chuck Klosterman. It’s something people almost instantaneously disagree with whenever I bring it up in conversation, but it’s also something so inherently true that it reverberates in my mind each and every time I attempt to dwell on the ideas of love and relationships. Invariably, talking about love leads to talking about marriage and the belief in finding that one person out there for you—you’re other half, soul mate, the yin to your yang. People are looking for another person to complete them, to fulfill them in ways they have never been able to do on their own. 

I can’t help noticing the absurdity of this.

With life-long, monogamous relationships, people believe there is one person in the world who satisfies all their needs, that no one else will ever do, and that in turn, they will satisfy all their partner’s needs. Forever. Despite the fact that people grow and change, people believe they will always grow and change in complimentary ways which never puts their union at odds. You will continually support each other’s endeavors even when you’re not in agreement with those endeavors. You will be an anchor for your partner even when that partner is being a selfish baby and even when they are too busy to be there for you. There’s no marriage clause about picking up your dirty underwear, not picking your nose in the sanctity of your bed, brushing your teeth EVERY single day at the very least, or blowing loads of cash on useless toys. And, even if there were, people would violate them left and right because marriage is wholly unreasonable as it is understood today. That’s why adultery is so commonplace. Vows mean nothing in the long run. They're not, at all, legally binding in that real consequences exist for breaking them. 

I know a lot of people are ready to argue with me here; it wouldn’t be the first time. I have friends who do it all the time. Plus, we've all seen the memes about making marriage last by working on it (memes that fail to mention those two people likely hate each other's guts and only stayed together because divorce was way more of a social taboo for their generation). Memes that attempt to make divorced folks like myself feel like pieces of shit for giving up on something that so obviously wasn't working no matter how much effort we put into it. Memes and comments that somehow imply that forever is possible as long as you believe in it. I mean, if belief counted for anything, my ass would fit in a size 4 dress because I believe it should be.

So, to back up my marriage argument, I decided to conduct a little social experiment. I opened profiles on 2 dating sites just to see how many married men would contact me in a month’s time. What I hoped to show was just how callously people treated their vows even if they truly love their spouses. It seems to be a fairly common occurrence, and people tend to argue that it only happens when a weak minded individual caves to temptation.

Or not.

In just 1 month, I was contacted by 15 admittedly married men. That’s nearly 4 adulterers actively seeking an affair per week. And these were regular dating sites not the kind which caters strictly to affairs like Ashley Madison. On these sites, I filled out my profiles completely, and the messages poured in on their own. I never looked for anyone to contact myself. I never sent the initial message—never reached out to anyone. Obviously, I didn’t have to…those men were ready, willing, and able to find someone.

Adultery seems more forgivable, more understandable when a person loses all will power in a moment of weakness....a whiff of perfume on the cusp of some fierce flirting, the shape of a woman's ass in her pencil skirt, the hint of aftershave on a man's skin, the touch of a hand on your arm...they're all likely to crumble any resolve in just the right scenario. If those were the only cases of adultery that happened, then perhaps it could be chalked up solely to weak-minded individuals. But, in my experiment, that wasn't the case. In actuality, men (and likely women though I didn't conduct the "research" for that apsect of things) knowingly and purposefully sought complete and total strangers with whom to fuck outside of their marriages. No strings attached. No pictures. Sparse profiles. The intent, it seems, is not to satisfy the lack of a connection that could be forged through flirting and shared experiences culminating in a state of weakness. It was to purposefully seek out something new and novel because it's taboo...risque...the call of the forbidden fruit was just to strong to resist. 

Even more telling, though, were the men who weren’t married but were absolutely unconcerned about what I want. I state numerous times in my profiles that I am not looking for any type of relationship and that I don’t believe the commitments, boundaries, and expectations that go along with traditional relationships actually work to make and keep people content. Still, I received messages in droves from men who stated they were clearly looking for long-term relationships. Even when I pointed out the discrepancies to these would-be-suitors, I was told it didn’t matter. It doesn’t matter? What I think and want is so vastly different from what you want, but that doesn’t matter…. Because, in the end, all I need to do is find the "right man" or just get a "good dicking" to straighten me out. That's what I've been told at least.

I think I’ve found a big part of the problem without intending it.

People (generally speaking of course) are very much self-absorbed. That’s the whole idea behind capitalism and the very principle this country demands. Each person worries about his or her self and when it comes to other, the attitude remands to “survival of the fittest.” In essence, what another person needs or wants is of no concern when it comes to your own happiness. We let others suffer so we can succeed. It’s the American way. Relationships haven’t seemed to escape that selfishness even though the idea is to form a union with your other half. The actions of partners are completely contradictory to the very fundamentals of the union they so readily joined.

I blame, at least in part, movies and television for this.

I think media sources have played on and intensified dramatic life events. People go from enemies to lovers before 2 hours have passed. People in the strangest circumstances fall in love and live happily ever after. Men go to great lengths to woo and win over women that had never before given them the time of day. People marry within families, screw best friends, and rekindle with scorned lovers with a dramatic flair that cannot be contained. In movies and television, people fall in love so quickly and fiercely and love so intensely that we set our expectations for what love could (should) be at a high level. Real life can never compete. With capitalist ideals, we feel we each have an opportunity to be successful. We’ve grown to desire our lives to be meaningful; we feel life has no purpose unless it’s spontaneous, dramatic, and intense. Yet, most people fall into daily routines and ruts which vastly contrasts the type of life they crave. Media feeds into that. We selfishly want the kind of life we see play out before us on screen without giving it, and that is why monogamy and marriage fail more often than not. People fail to realize that finding meaning in life is more than a romantic dinner on a roof-top or a tear-filled declaration of adoration. It's more than what can ever be portrayed on a screen because life has more dimensions than that. It's more complex. But, when we don't see real love materialize like it does on a screen or see it peak with no pits, that boredom sets in, and then, apparently, you find yourself surfing Plenty of Fish for the next available easy lay who won’t (maybe) get you in trouble with your spouse if you manage to sneak away long enough to get in a good screw. It's all about the novelty.

We’ve killed what love can be by putting boundaries and unreasonable expectations on it. The media constantly reminds us of the love we’ll never really have, and every failed marriage just strengthens our resolve to find it. That’s why no one I know can sit down in a conversation and agree with the points I’ve made. Their eyes often betray the truth, but to admit it out loud would mean the end of their search for the one thing which can make them whole and finally bring them true happiness. And, it’s so much easier to find that happiness in someone else than to do some self-exploration and find it within themselves---when that happens, there is not a constant need for someone else to do the satisfying and fulfilling, there's no emptiness when routines take hold, and no push to always find something to entertain and escape to...When media-driven ideals are left behind, people begin to realize that being part of a union means compromising and that giving up doesn't mean failing--that it's a natural consequence of human relations. We can't give up on this idea of love we're continually force fed because it seems so much more amazing than the real thing. But, that's exactly what we need to do--give up on the idea of it, and find whatever version really makes us happy for whatever time we have it.

No balls were harmed in the creation of this post.

10 Things We Don't Wish Guys Would Do More Often

Despite the name of this blog post, I have problems when people write an article/essay proclaiming to understand what every woman or man wants out of the group to whom they're attracted. I cannot claim to know what every woman wants out of men, and I think it's pretty silly to make that assumption. I read such an article today on Elite Daily entitled The Ten Hopelessly Romantic We Wish Guys Did More Often. The basic premise is that in these days of modernized, technology-fueled relationships where texting is more common than actually dating, romance can and should be part of the dating process. I agree. Romantic gestures can make quite an impact. When I read the list, however, I was quite literally aghast at the suggestions included. The article would have been so much better had it been written solely from the author's perspective instead of taking on the voice of an entire gender.

It also would have helped had the author actually had any real idea on what constitutes romance versus hygiene.

So, here's the list. My responses have been included and are highlighted in gray.

1. Hug us from behind

That initial surprise the moment we feel your arms touch that spot on our waist where our curves meet is always welcomed. It’s cheesy and we know it, but sometimes it’s nice to be enveloped in a man’s embrace. Wrapping us up against you is the body language equivalent of saying “I’ve got you” and it feels really, really good to hear.

Wait, what? It's not cheesy as much as it is fucking creepy. "I've got you" is the equivalent of kidnapping talk. It's the kind of things I imagine a stalker would say as he clasps a gloved hand over my mouth and puts a gun to my head. No, thank you. 

This is the kind of guy who would hug you from behind. 

2. Call before bed

Even if it’s just to make sure we’re not passing out in the hallway, a bedtime phone call is affectionate and thoughtful. You want us going to bed dreaming about you and not Lip from “Shameless”? You’ve got our numbers. #CallMe

For one, there are some people (me) who absolutely despise phone calls. I've worked in a retail pharmacy long enough that I would be perfectly fine if I never had to make another phone call for the rest of my life. For two, if I'm passing out in a hallway, the last thing I want to do or need to do is talk to some dude on the phone. For three, #don'tfuckingcallme

3. Give us your worn-in sweatshirts

Or if you can’t part with those, vintage t-shirts will do just fine as well. When you’re not around to cuddle, we like snuggling with your clothes instead. And we’re not going to pretend like we don’t feel cute wearing your oversized garments. Bonus points if they still smell like you.

I have my own clothes. I really don't want to go to bed in someone else's old pit-stained throwaway shirts. I mean, really... If it smells like you, it probably smells like your funk. I'll pass. 

4. Have sex during the game

That’s why they invented halftime right? After watching the Giants take 20 minutes to get a first down, we’d appreciate at least some heavy petting – which we’d like to note doesn’t require any attention except from your hands. So you can do it while Russell Wilson completes his pass. Think of it as a play for play.

I don't really date anyone so obsessed with sports that this would actually be an issue, but I mean, can't people do their own thing? I would be using game time to work on my own projects and get a little me-time in. Also, I don't feel the need to compete with a game or a sport. I'd prefer any sex I have not to be distractedly squeezed into a break between game periods while someone sings the national anthem in the background. Besides, if you end up staring at the tv over my shoulder, you're going to regret it. 

5. Pick us up

A spin really completes the move, just saying. Do you remember the last time someone lifted you up? I mean this literally. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does it’s a dramatic moment that reminds us of your strength and your ability to sweep us off our feet, quite exactly. There’s nothing wrong with wanting the prince charming – he still comes with a sword.

Pick me up and I will fucking punch you. End of story. 

6. Keep your creepy porn fetishes a secret

We’re not saying we don’t condone indulging in whatever turns you on, but if you are getting off to anything we wouldn’t remotely try (like, I don’t know, say humping Ferris wheels or something) then it’s best to keep that information to yourself. We’re not judging, but telling us you liked watching “2 Girls 1 Cup” kind of stays with a person.

I mean, "don't tell us about your fetishes?" Really? Well, those fetishes may be a dealbreaker but not getting satisfied sexually eventually leads to infidelity doesn't it? I'd rather know now than really get hooked on someone only to find out he or she was humping Ferris Wheels with someone else because I wouldn't. That would sting. Badly. This is just sheer ignorance. Does this mean I, too, have to hide my fetishes? Or is this author operating under the assumption that only dudes have these sorts of odd fantasies? 

7. Wear suits… and then give us their jacket

Men in suits are the equivalent of women in oxford button downs. It’s just plain sexy. And when you give us your coat, it’s pretty much like foreplay.

Okay, I concede that suits are sexy. I cannot agree that having a guy's jacket is going to lubricate my vagina, however. It's not foreplay. It IS a bit romantic, but let's not get carried away here. 

8. Go for it – romantically or otherwise

We’re all for a woman making the move and feeling confident, but the high of being wanted by someone else is equally important. Don’t hold back anymore. If you’re feeling it in the moment, whether it’s confessing your attraction or pushing back a strand of our hair, just go for it. In such an impersonal world, we crave that flicker of human connection.

This is called being assertive. I don't think assertiveness qualifies as hopelessly romantic. Of course both sides of an attraction desire feeling wanted. It takes everyone involved, though. And, quite frankly, I haven't met a guy yet who really holds back on showing his attraction. I have the pics on my phone to prove it. 

9. Notice the small things

Maybe it’s the placement of your favorite freckle or the arch of your back when you’re lying together. When someone takes the time to appreciate your little features, it means something much bigger.

Let's be honest. This is only going to be romantic as long as the little thing being noticed is not something you're self-conscious about. As soon as that tiny little mole on your nose gets pointed out, you're going to go from "awww" to "pissed off" in 3 seconds flat. 

10. Wear a signature scent

The power of olfaction is a real thing. We’re all animals on some level and it’s in our nature to sniff you out. And even if it’s only for a night, we’ll always have your smell to remember you by.

Since when did being clean and smelling nice go from hygienic to romantic? If that's all it takes, I am romancing the fuck out of people all day long. 

Here is my own list. I only wanted to make my own to show that one person cannot speak for the attractions of an entire group of people. I invite you to think it over seriously and make one yourself in the comments. 

1. Make a mixtape. 

Nearly every memory I have is attached to a song or band. Attach a song to my thoughts of you. Every time I hear it, you'll be all I think about. 

2. Write an actual note. On paper. 

Handwritten letters are a forgotten art. Even if it's just a few sentences, it's a tangible compliment that can be kept and cherished. 

3. Brush my hair. 

Best thing ever. Enough said. 

4. Plan a picnic. 

That's right. Make me a goddamn sandwich. But, seriously, the effort will be appreciated even if said picnic takes place on the living room floor. 

5. Give me your arm to hold onto in public.

I think this speaks to itself. It's more dated than just holding my hand, but it feels secure and I love the way your arm feels in my hand. 

6. Read what I write. 

My actions say a lot about who I am. What I say will tell you more. But, my passion is writing, and unless you read what I write, there's no way you'll get to know me on the same level as someone who does all three. 

7. Remember what I take in my coffee. 

It's just a small gesture, but it shows you pay attention to those small things...that you care enough to do so. 

8. Read a book with me. 

The only thing about delving into a phenomenal story is sharing it with someone awesome. 

9. Tell me about your fetishes. 

Because two people need to be real with each other. I want to know these things even if I don't exactly jump on the bandwagon. I want to know the real you  not the facade people show in the early stages of dating. When the best-foot-forward version of you can no longer be maintained, I don't want to be left with a complete stranger. Being vulnerable by revealing these things IS romantic. Don't offer to jizz on my glasses on the first date, however There's a fine line between romance and being a douchecanoe. 

10. Slow dance with me in the middle of a store, in the kitchen, on a sidewalk...

wherever the mood strikes you. 

She's Truly Outrageous

A long time ago, in a land far, far away called the 80s....

I had a Jem doll.

   

Jem was one of those shows created around a line of toys (Hasbro) like GI Joe, The Transformers, and My Little Pony. The basic plot of the show involved Jerrica Benton, the main character, having a "secret" identity as a rockstar. By day, she owned a music company and a foster home for 13 orphaned girls. By different time of day, she was Jem of Jem and the Holograms, a rocker girl whose badassness could hardly be rivaled. The shows the band played were used to fund Jerrica's altruistic activities, and she always foiled the attempts of bad girl rival bands like the Misfits out of stealing her thunder. Bad girls, seemingly, never win even in the world of animated bubblegum pop rock...

Jerrica transformed from herself to Jem by aid of a hologram machine and a pair of nifty earrings which would envelope her in Jem's image. And, of course, no girl show is complete without some romance. Why is it that girls are seen as only being interested in boys and love with their toys and shows? I guess that's a longer question for another day. Anyway, in this case, the love interest was actually unwittingly digging on both personalities. What do you do when you find out your boyfriend is cheating on you with yourself?

I digress.

I also used to have this Barbie style family of dolls called the Heart family.

This was cute and gaggingly wholesome fun with a Mommy, Daddy, baby girl, and baby boy. Aw! Or not really aw. Not at my house anyway. In my imagination and in my 3 story dollhouse, Mr. Heart used to have affairs on Mrs. Heart with Jem.

That is correct. Before the age of ten, I made Jem into quite a "homewrecker." That jerk. Or, I guess I'm the jerk. Either way.

Don't let this fool you into thinking something negative about my perceptions of relationships at the time, though, or that, perhaps, my parents' relationship had my views skewed. My parents did get divorced by the time I was 12, but it had nothing to do with infidelity. I'm fairly certain neither of them were cheaters, and in fact, the extent of their problems centered around my father's abuse and drug use. I do have my own ideas about love and relationships now that are not exactly traditional, but at that young age, I don't think it crossed my mind too much. Besides all that, the affairs Mr. Heart had with Jem had nothing to do with the drama of a secret relationship and having forbidden fruit. They snuck around, sure. But, when they did, they mostly hung out on the plastic furniture after she brought over plastic fruit in full rocker costume. She never once saw him in her Jerrica attire. And here's why: in my mind, Mr. Heart simply thought Jem was the coolest girl he'd ever seen.

Jem was something completely different from his American dream family. She loved music and dancing. They listened to Cyndi Lauper and moved around the house singing along. Those style dolls really can't dance well, so moving robotically is as good as it gets. She made up songs just for him and dressed differently than his sweetheart wife. She also did her own thing and wasn't afraid to be an upwardly mobile woman of the 80s. Okay, so my mind at the time couldn't conceive the term "upwardly mobile woman of the 80s," but I knew she supported herself and didn't need a damn dime of his while his wife wouldn't have gotten a job if her life depended on it (and she'd end up living on alimony checks for the rest of her life). Perhaps this is where my parents' relationship dynamic was the influence. To me, independence was awesome. Who wouldn't want the cool girl with her own job who could sing her ass off, had flashy earrings, and dyed her hair pink? Mr. Heart just couldn't resist.

And, that's why the affair began. I thought Jem was bad-fucking-ass, so how could he not see her the same way?

The influence of such a character seems pretty small when your child is watching cartoons on Saturday mornings while you're doing the laundry or sleeping in, but here I am today with that influence still quite apparent with my love of music, self sufficiency, education, tattoos, unique style, and outside the box thinking. Fuck am I ever glad my mom never got the depth of a show like Jem...I imagine I'd be sucking down Xanax in massive quantities right now if my life were anything like that of the nauseatingly domestic Mrs. Heart.


On another note...

I wonder what would happen if these Misfits were pitted against the real Misfits in a Battle of the Bands....I also wonder who would spend more time doing their makeup. Would it be more involved to tease that pea-soup-colored hair and electrify those cheeks or gel that one strand into the perfect face blocking place?