No Soliciting!

So my mind works kind of like a puppy playing fetch who sees a rabbit out of the corner of her eye and takes off running around in circles trying to catch the rabbit, only to finally realize the rabbit is gone and then goes back to whatever else is happening at the moment.  I tend to have moments when my mind goes off on random tangents and I sit there for an unspecified amount of time pondering life's greatest questions, until I move on the next exciting thing. Because you have chosen to read this, I'm going to assume you have entered at your own risk and are prepared to go on one of those convoluted journeys with me.  So, sit back, relax and enjoy the show.

Today we shall ponder the idea of unsolicited advice (or opinions, you pick the word).

I'm starting to think that there is some kind of unspoken national holiday that no one seemed to share. Maybe it's more like a holi-month. I tend to get a wave of these particular comments right around the same time each year.  Like some uber secret society where you have to know the door knock and the handshake and the magic word to get in and once in they give you the title of the holiday and ask you to go celebrate. I really should email Hallmark since they seem to be the co-conspirators in a lot of random holidays.  I thought perhaps it was just me and my craziness, but then a very good friend shared that it happened to her too. So now I'm slightly more convinced that August is "National Tell People How to Live Their Lives Because They Seemingly FORGOT to Ask The Other 11 Months" Month. Hallmark should be able to make millions.

There seem to be certain types of unsolicited opinions that people feel way too comfortable in sharing. Please note the key word for the remainder of this blog is "unsolicited" - we're talking about things I don't ask for. Being single I hear it all the time - opinions about boyfriends and marriage and babies and houses and picket fences and dogs and dying alone and blah blah blah.  These opinions are carefully crafted messages designed to be "well-meaninged" but they always seem to put me on the defensive.  For the record: I only have 1 cat, I was not swayed by Disney's idea of romance (they were cartoons), I do not sit at home and eat dinner by candlelight with my pretend-boyfriend (he works late a lot), my life isn't miserable (I have moments, but doesn't everyone?) and no, I do not need you to fix me up with your co-worker's neighbor's brother.

On the flip side, there are some opinions that seem to be off-limits (or at least that you're not supposed to say without being called some incredibly creative names).  For example, what would happen if I walked up to someone and said, "You really should divorce your husband.  He's a bit of a dbag and you would be soooooo much happier single." OR, "You know, if you just shipped that kid off to boarding school you could spend Friday nights at the bar." Or finally this one, "Oh, you had a fight with your husband? I have JUST the person who I can fix you up with! You guys have so much in common!!"

I'm fairly certain that the outcome of any of those sentences wouldn't be all that pretty. (Side note, this actually happened to a friend of mine, and it provided a good excuse to practice all of the words my former Navy-father taught me).

So here's my point - random, well-meaninged, "because I want you to be happy" comments have one fatal flaw - they presume that people are not happy (blog disclaimer: no, I'm not absolutely, positively happy every single moment of every single day - are you?).  And when we make presumptions, we're really just making judgements.  And nobody likes to be judged. I could very easily counter that each one of my comments above was made with the best of intentions, with nothing but love.  But for whatever reason, they're not so easily accepted as "you really should get married" or "we need to find you a man!"or "you don't want to end up at the end of your life, dying alone and lonely."  (Yes, I have actually had that said to me)

Bottom line - we're not all the same, and the same things don't make us happy, and we don't truly know a person's backstory.  It's all just about love and acceptance...

Intro to Pole

Admit it, the title of this blog is the only reason you started reading.  It's ok, I planned it like that.

So for the past month or so I've been in a bit of a funk.  There's been a whole lot going on and life just seemed to keep taking a great big heaping poo all over me.  One of the most useful things about owing the federal government the remainder of my working career just so I can get a therapy degree is that sometimes (just sometimes, mind you) I actually use it for myself.  So I'm perfectly aware of my funks, and I'm also acutely aware that when those times hit I need to avoid people like the plague (please don't report that to the state of California, I don't need my license reviewed just because I told you there are moments when this therapist can't handle people).

Anywho, avoiding people just didn't seem to do the trick this time around and while I'll spare you the play-by-play, let's just say that I'm amazed I didn't drown myself in all of the eye fluid.  One night, in the middle of a particularly horrible looking meltdown (I'm an ugly crier) I was crying so hard that my nose got all stuffed up and I...wait for it...actually gagged at my inability to breathe.  Don't judge me - you know you've been there.

It was in that moment that I got peeved.  Like throw things at the wall peeved.  Seriously, I was crying so hard I couldn't breathe?  That's just ridiculous.  I decided I needed to get up, dust off and do something.  And if you know me, then you know the words "do something" never actually mean anything normal (who wants to jump out of a plane?).

So -

Enter the pole dancing class.

In fairness, I believe it's a pole FITNESS class, but potato-potahto.  It's a pole dancing class.  And the first one that you have to pass is called "Intro to Pole."  I had a blast with that information, but since there are already too many rambling thoughts in this blog we'll just talk about the class.

So there I am, pointing my toes and strutting around a pole in front of a gigantic mirror when the instructor says the word that makes me freeze in a panic. Any guesses?  No?  Ok, I'll tell you - that word is "sexy."  This was the second time in 2 weeks that someone used that damn word  in terms of how I was supposed to be and I'll tell you the same thing I said then - I wouldn't know "sexy" if it came up and slapped me in the face.  Or introduced itself.

I blame my parents.  Well, not really because it seems slightly awkward to blame your parents for not teaching you about "sexy," but I kind of do. And my sister (sorry Kat).  You see, I grew up on a soccer field.  Up until high school, 98% of my friends were guys.  I was usually covered in dirt or grass or mud or some other nature-like concoction.  At 34, I'm still flabbergasted by hairdos and makeup (this is where I blame my sister, because she was a bigger tomboy than I was and we never had those Coca-Cola moments where she was teaching me makeup artistry - but she did teach me how to inflict the most pain on a guy on the soccer field, so I think it was a fair trade-off).  I laugh at the people who do those 2 things for me when they say I can replicate it at home. Umm...ok.  I once had a boyfriend who tried to explain it by telling me to think of myself as a Christmas tree.  Really?  A Christmas tree?

Reader's Digest version - the use of the word "sexy" causes an anxiety attack of epic proportions.   Until "Intro to Pole," that is.  Somewhere, somehow, with all of the toe-pointing and rear-shoving-out-ing and the twirling and swinging and whatever the hell else I did, I found "sexy."

And I introduced myself.

Thank you "Intro to Pole" - thank you.

So Glad That's Over...

In case you didn’t know, last Sunday was Mother’s Day.  Yes, that was sarcasm. While most people were busy updating their profile pictures and sharing their Mother’s Day plans on social networking sites, I was busy in Vegas trying to pretend that the day didn’t exist.   I purposely picked this weekend to make travel plans because I knew that the more distracted I was the better off I would end up being.

For the past 4 years, I have dreaded the months of April and May.  There’s so much build-up to Mother’s Day that you can’t go anywhere without being struck upside the head with it.  And before you try telling me that after 4 years, these holidays should be getting easier please know that I WILL hurt you if you say that.  In the last 4 years I have reached milestones and experienced profound heartaches that make me miss my mom even more than I do on a daily basis.  While these days don’t usually knock me over for extended periods of time anymore, they still hurt my heart.

As April comes to an end, I usually make minor adjustments to my life in order to cope.  I stop watching live TV, my trigger finger is ready to change the radio dial in the event of a commercial break, and I avoid the grocery store like the plague (it can be emotionally draining to be stuck in the checkout line with magazine headlines screaming at you).  This year, however, I unexpectedly found myself engrossed in a “Who the Bleep” marathon on the Investigation Discovery Channel while multi-tasking on my phone and before I knew what was happening, a commercial break hit.

Cue the entertainment.

Up pops at 1-800-Flowers commercial (or a ProFlowers, but that’s not really the point) reminding me that Mother’s Day was right around the corner (as if I could possibly forget).  And then comes the line that stuck in my head and caused an uncontrollable fit of emotional rollercoaster-ness – “guaranteed to make mom smile.”  Does anyone know how they can prove that?

I immediately wondered if there was a money-back guarantee…and if I could sue them for false advertising.   And then I realized that my mom was probably laughing right there with me.   And then I became slightly bitter that I really didn’t know if she was.  And then I became sad that I couldn’t hand her flowers of any kind anymore.  And then…and then…and then “Who the Bleep” came back on.

My point is this – cherish the days you have with the ones you love.  Live, laugh, love out loud.  And always, always remember that everyone has a story.

For now, I’m just incredibly grateful that it’s over for at least another 364 days – I was running out of groceries.   

From 0-67

Previously on "Yes, I'm Single"....we delved into the great world of online dating.

The night of that blog posting, I bit the bullet and created an online dating profile.  I actually hit "create profile" at 10:06pm (this becomes relevant in just a second I promise).  By the time 5pm hit the very next day (5 hours short of a 24 hour timeframe) I had....wait for it....if you're clever you've already figured it out....67 total contacts.  67???  Now, I personally think very highly of myself, but even I don't think that there are 67 single men out there who want to date me.  I'm not even sure I've met 67 interested men total in the 33 years I've walked this planet.  And, if by some random chance I'm wrong here, where the BLEEP have these 67 men been???

Okay, sorry about the rant.

I asked a great friend how to go about working through all of this randomness and he offered some fantastic advice.  I deleted a few right from the top based on his suggestions, but being the therapist and always interested in human behavior, I gave more than a few of them a good read-through.  Let's review some of the more amusing ones, shall we?  I promise to keep screen names and other identifying information just to myself.

Example #1 of 67 (no, we're not going through all 67)

Age: 29

Do you own a car? Prefer not to answer 

Wait, what?  You prefer not to answer whether or not you own a car?  That could be a problem.

Example #2
Age: 34
Blah blah blah lol blah blah lol blah blah blah blah lol blah lol....
Seriously? 8 lol's in 1 message?  Deleted.

Example #3 (My favorite)
Age: 42
"think i met u last night if so u are a cool chick"
Like Shaggy says, it wasn't me.

And last but certainly not least Example #4
Age: 37
"if i were to date you nobody has to know"
Just keep it on the down looowwwwww....nobody has to know.....


Ok - so we've learned a few things from the mass quantity of contacts - 1, sometimes you gotta wade through a lot of frogs and 2, I seriously have issues with spelling and grammar.

I'm not giving up though - there was at least one of the 67 that may warrant a response.  Fingers crossed!

To Be Continued...

My Foray into the World of Online Dating

First, I apologize for the mini-blogcation.  Apparently it's been so long since I posted that I actually forgot the password to log in.  And then Google almost made me promise my first-born just to get a new password.  But here I am (take that Google)!

Now, on to the fun!

I recently decided that some changes may need to be made to my dating life.  In other words, there are re-runs on the History channel that are more interesting than dates I've been on.  So....I started thinking creatively about online dating.  I was always the one who stayed away from this form of meeting men, but since there's only so much Pawn Stars a person can watch in a month, I figured I'd give it a whirl.

I was in a conversation with a friend who routinely uses dating sites and he was explaining to me the pros and cons of this brand new world.  Blog disclaimer:  I am neither endorsing nor am I criticizing any of the dating sites I may accidentally mention from this point forward.  I just need to put that out there - the last thing I need is to get blackballed from online dating.  That would just be bad.

Anywho, we were talking about one well-known site and he shares that you have to answer a series of questions chosen by the potential match before any information is shared.  My first thought was - "that's a lot of work."  My second thought was - "and you wonder why you're single."  Ok, bring on the questions.  The good news here is that there are actually standardized answers that won't make you sound like a nutjob.  Positive points for that.

Everything was going fine until he proceeds to show me MULTIPLE pictures from profiles.  Uh oh, this could be a problem.  I'm the girl who instinctively hides when a camera comes out, like some alarm starts blaring DANGER DANGER and I duck for cover.  I've always been like that - I hate pictures. I hate pictures more than I hate creamed spinach.  And I seriously hate that.  He explains to me that while you always look at the best pictures, you really need to focus on the worst ones.  It's at this point where I start wondering how many profile pictures can include my cat before potential matches begin to think I'm crazy.

Anyone have an answer for that?  Anyone?

Okay then....multiple pictures where I don't look like I'm the old cat lady.  Hmmm....I wonder if Glamour Shots is still in business....

Never mind - I think I'll just continue to watch Pawn Stars and hope that Mr. Right comes randomly knocking on the door.

Help! I need a man!!

Sometimes you just need a (handy)man.

On Thanksgiving Eve, around 9:45pm, I walked into my kitchen to wash the pan I'd been soaking and...wait for it...right smack into a lake. Apparently, and some point after the first round of dishes had been washed and the pan (which by the way had the remnants of bacon grease in it) was snug in the hot water and in the process of a good soak, something decided to crap out on me.

I did a little search and found that the water (correction, greasy water) was coming from underneath the sink. I started laying down towels and doing my best to pull things out from under the sink. That's when I noticed it - my garbage disposal was peeing. No joke, there was a steady stream of greasy bacon water coming directly out of the red button thingy on the bottom of the garbage disposal. Finally it stopped.

I climbed under the sink to get a better idea of what was going on and to see if I could take the thing apart myself (yes I remembered to unplug it first). But alas - no such luck. That sucker looked like it had been welded together. I lied under that sink, pondering my options. It was the night before a holiday and I knew the complex office was closed. Uh oh...

Suddenly I found myself pacing around my apartment trying to desperately search my brain for a man who could fix my problem. I called the office and debated (for 3 different phone calls) if I warranted an "emergency after hours maintenance call." I even posted a picture to Facebook asking for help. If there was ever a time I wished I had a man around, this was it.

But then - POOF - I had an epiphany. I had something better than a man. I had the young, flirty girl charm and one hell of a smile. So, on call #4 I pushed the button for emergency. And, in my best damsel-in-distress voice I begged for help at 10:30pm.

And guess what? My garbage disposal was replaced by 11pm.

Turns out I don't need a man after all...just a whole lot of shameless flirting.

May you all enjoy your assets!!

Sometimes You Just Have to Walk Away

So we've established that I'm single again - I think I may have actually been single-ISH before being single. Confusing, I know, but what else would you expect from me?

I've come to the conclusion that I'm slightly too easy-going in my relationships. I put up with a lot. A lot more than most of my friends think I should (just ask them). And I'm WAY too forgiving and understanding. This past weekend I realized, through a series of events (that we won't talk about in this particular blog session - none of you has that much available time for reading), that sometimes you just have to walk away. (Read: really single this time)

I've put myself out there a number of times in my life, opened my heart and let people in. Sometimes these people hold it gently and treasure it, sometimes they trample on it, and sometimes they really don't care whether or not they have access to it. It seems, however, that I have a knack for finding that third type - those who are apparently oblivious and couldn't give a rat's behind that I've taken down that wall - or the amount of strength and courage it took to do it.

The problem is, because I've opened my heart, I spend my time and energy trying to get these people to see that, to acknowledge it, to respond somehow. And, inevitably, I always end up hurt. I hang on for just a little too long instead of paying attention to the flashing neon signs and usually end up thinking, "what the bleep is wrong with me?? I'm so needy". Sigh.

Anywho, I finally paid attention to a couple of those signs. (Yay me) And realized in the process that sometimes these people will remain oblivious to what they have and, despite whatever positives there may be, you just have to skedaddle. This is me skedaddling.

I'm not saying that they weren't worth every second - I wouldn't change a single thing about any of the experiences or relationships that I've had. Each one has changed my world. So, to paraphrase one of my all-time favorite songs -

He was my best friend
And it broke my heart
But I don't regret the day that he became
One of those I've loved along the way

I wouldn't be the (wo)man I am today
If not for those I've loved along the way

May today you all find those who treasure your love...