Friends Don't Let Friends #1

Friends don't let friends date good friends of friends.


I don’t have many rules when it comes to dating except for those concerning basic hygiene, no socks with sandals, and no sleeveless shirts on a first date (thanks to my friend Julie for this one), but this is one rule I’ve managed to stick with for quite some time.  I’ve learned, through experience, that the whole friends of friends thing can potentially cause some serious issues.  If it doesn’t work you end up dealing with the complete awkwardness when you’re at the same functions and then the phase of what I like to call “friend reallocation” - the time when others have to decide who they like better.  And with that comes the dissection of what went wrong.  I know this way of dating has worked for some people....I just have never been one of them.

So usually when I hear a good friend start to say something to the effect of, “I have this really great guy friend” I’m already 4 steps out the door before the end of the sentence.

But, in an effort to move this blog along, let me just tell you that I caved on my rule.  I decided to give it a whirl.  I decided to go out on a date with a "really good friend" of a really good friend.  While the date when just fine (He's a good guy and I’m fairly certain I could carry a conversation with a brick wall), by the end of the night we both realized it ended up fitting nicely into the “once and done” category.

So, that brings me back to the whole "friends of friends" dilemma.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must go prepare myself for the inevitable, “But why Jen? You guys would have been so PERFECT together...”

The Rant

“I don’t know Jennifer....it seems like it’s do or die time.”

I stood there dumbfounded, my mouth hanging open just slightly.  I was speechless and if you know me you know that happens very rarely.  Did I really just hear that?  I’m talking, of course, of the well-intentioned person who has once again decided that they hear my biological clocking ticking and need to remind me that I’m getting up there in age.  But seriously?  It’s so extreme that it’s do or die time?  Like the world is going to magically stop rotating if I wait too much longer to start the whole marriage, 2.5 kids, house, white picket fence and a dog idea?  I’m actually going to die of singlehood???

First - a disclaimer.  It’s not like I haven’t tried.  I have, repeatedly.  Some times with some good guys, some times with some I-should-have-never-dated-you-in-the-first-place kind of guys.  My choice now is quality over quantity.  But still, I continue to hear these statements.

Now, imagine for a brief second the possibility that those exact words were heard by someone struggling with infertility. What would that person think of these words - what kind of damage could they have caused?

Every single word we speak, and even the words we leave unspoken, carry incredible amounts of power.  One 6-minute phone call in the last few weeks knocked me over for days, simply because of things that were said (and not said) from someone who claims to care about me.

Everyone has a story, and usually we’re not privy to the full non-censored version.

So here’s my story - the deep dark secret that until now I’ve hid from the world.  While this health condition I’ve written about in past blogs is not always life-threatening, it is genetic.  And if it does appear in a newborn, however remote that possibility may be, it IS almost 100% fatal.  I’ve struggled for over a year with whether or not I even want to take that chance.  Right now I don't. And even if I did, how in the world do you ask someone else to take on that risk with you?  I've only had 2 men in my entire life that I would have ever thought I could - 1 that I did, and 1 that I will never get the chance to.

I tell you this not to induce pity.  In fact, that is the exact reason it has remained a secret for so long - that I never want anyone to look at me like that.  What I think sometimes we forget is that when we speak, no matter how innocent or well-intentioned our words may be, we misunderstand the impact they can make on someone else.  The “but you’re so pretty,” or “you’d make such a great mother,” "why aren't you married," or even “I can’t believe you’re single,” are merely just judgements in disguise of the I-want-you-to-be-happy hooey.  And without knowing someone's story, we run the risk of doing irreparable damage.  We run the risk of falling into society's expectations.  We run the risk of hurting others.  Words are powerful, and that power has to be respected.

May your words today heal, not hurt.

No Need to Worry

Homeless men love me.  That one sentence pretty much sums up the majority of men that hit on me.  I used to say that only young kids and old men ever did, but apparently that is no longer true.

I didn’t discover this particular phenomenon until a recent trip to San Francisco.  I’m quite certain I was hit on by every other homeless man who walked down the street.  One in particular did this to me:

<Walking toward me> “Damn girl, hold on” <Puts one finger up, does a complete circle around me on the street> “Yeah girl, you’re fine.”

I had to give him credit - it was the best pickup line I’ve ever heard in my entire life.  And as crazy as this sounds, I found myself thinking - If only we had somewhere to go....

I had convinced myself this was strictly a SF occurrence.  I believe my hypothesis has been proved wrong once again.  There is a guy in Escondido who hangs out near the 7-eleven by my home, and the workers there call this guy “menacing.”  They call EPD regularly and tell them he is harassing the patrons.  I’ve never been harassed, unless you count the occasional “Hey can you buy me a soda?”  Being a single female, I can give you the definition of harassment.  This guy is not it.  I mean, he’s like 8 feet tall and doesn’t ever wear a shirt, but he’s never come across as menacing to me.

Anyway, this last 7-eleven run proved to be interesting.  I think he knows now what my car looks like.  As I made my way out of the store he was walking toward me.  I figured he’d ask for money or something so I mentally tried to figure out how much cash I had on me at the time.  Instead, this is what I got - “Hey, I just wanted to tell you that I think you’re beautiful.  Have a good day, and I hope I see you around.”

See people, no need to worry - I can get a date.

Chronic Pain: Lessons from the Trenches

Normally, we don’t take the time to reflect on our lives except during or immediately following a crisis.  We regroup, reevaluate and re-prioritize.  But then, once the crisis subsides we return to our everyday routine and reflections take a back seat to the day to day.  And little by little, the lessons we learned about life and about ourselves disappear.  Even I’m guilty.

Without boring you with too many details, let me just tell you that I have a health condition that has brought with it chronic pain for years.  In 2009 I ended up in the emergency room only to be told that it was simply anxiety.  See a therapist and I’d be fine.  Last year, finally, one fantastic PA looked me in the eye and said, “We’re not stopping until every rock is turned over.  We’ll figure it out.”  After a number of tests and the dreaded scan of my head, he found it - an actual medical diagnosis, a name to what was happening.  The whole process was a tad bit scarier than I’d like to admit.  Going through it alone (read: I’m single) was difficult in itself.  Most of the symptoms are just embarrassing, like balance and speech issues or forgetting to turn the oven off 3 hours after making dinner, but the chronic pain is what forces the almost daily reflections on my life.  But I’m a firm believer that every single thing in life presents a teachable moment if we just take the time to listen.

While I completely understand that some of you will not relate to the illness portion of this post (and I truly wish that no one on the face of this earth EVER had to), it is my hope that you can relate based on circumstances within your own life and have developed your own “what this crisis has taught me”.  Here’s some of what chronic pain (my own personal crisis) has taught me:

1. I am stronger than I ever believed imaginable.
2. Life is never guaranteed and should never be taken for granted.
3. The truest people in your life will stick through you and the crisis, and life is too short to spend time on people who are a waste of your space.
4. Seriously, life doesn’t need to be lived seriously.
5. All the pain meds (or any other numbness-inducing item) can’t even remotely compare to a great night with great friends and lots of laughter.
6. Plans are great, but flexibility is key.
7. It will never, ever, ever be helpful (or end the pain) to listen to the negative little voice in your head (although I still do at times).
8. You do not need to suffer alone in silence.  There are people who want to know your life (the good and bad).  The more you talk, the more people can help you carry your burdens.  Letting people in is not a weakness.

My mother shared once that her cancer made her, ironically, freer.  She no longer worried about the little things, what people thought of her or the negativity in life.  So powerful - the idea that a crisis gives us the courage to be nice to ourselves.  Too many times we focus on our faults, until the crisis subsides and we see that we really are wonderful and amazing.  I implore each of you to take the time today to focus on your strengths - what you already know, who you already are - and silence the negative voice in your head.

“You and me, Know what it’s like, To be kicked down, Forced to fight
But tonight, We’re alright, So hold up your light, Let it shine”

"Mistakes"

There’s a country song out there - it goes like this: “It’s a quarter after 1, I’m all alone and I need you now.  Said I wouldn’t call but I lost all control and I need you now.”  No truer words have ever been spoken about someone who is lonely....

Hey, I like single Jen.  I’m confident but I’m not superwoman.  I have moments where the confidence starts to evaporate and the loneliness sinks in.  And in those moments I’ve done some pretty not-so-intelligent things.

You know what I mean (hopefully?) - you’ve had a rough patch, you’re feeling lonely, you would like to have the comforting arms of a stranger (or someone who isn’t a stranger).  And since it’s safer to call someone you know, you make the one phone call you should NEVER EVER EVER make.  

Cue the return of the ex.

It works - the distraction makes the loneliness disappear, at least for a little while.

You wake up the next morning with the “Holy wow, what have I done?” soundtrack blaring from the boombox inside your head.  For those of you who haven’t had the pleasure of listening to that piece of musical genius, it includes tracks such as, “What the #@*% was I thinking?” “What is wrong with me?” and my personal favorite, “The biggest idiot in the universe.”  A soulful blend of regret and satisfaction all wrapped up into one nice album, nicely set on repeat by default.

And then, immediately following the mental beat down, the other thoughts start rushing in - what does this mean?  Why am I spending so much time thinking about him? Did I really believe everything he said? Are we going to get back together?  Who wants that?

Answer: No one.  Ex’s are ex’s for a reason.  However.....in those moments of loneliness, when the heart is craving something, sometimes you do stupid things.  And, more than likely, I will continue to do so.

The good news is the mental beatdown only lasts as long as I let it.  So I’ve made mistakes.  Show me the person who hasn’t and I’ll show you a person who hasn’t truly lived. The point of this long-winded story is that we all experience (or have experienced) these crazy “mistakes” some time in our lifetime.  We can only truly call them “mistakes” if we refuse to learn something from them.  Now, can anyone tell me WHAT I learned from this.....