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...

And Just Like That...

Single Jen is back.

To be honest, single Jen has been around for a few weeks or so but I honestly dreaded having to change my "official" Facebook status and tell the world that my relationship had gone clockwise down the toilet. Why, you ask? Well, if you have to ask, then you've never been 33 and single. Well-intentioned folks start with the "I'm so sorry" and then the jolly "next time!" or the "more fish" thingy and then slowly progress to the "you should meet..." sentiments.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate the love and support people show when something no-so-fantastic happens (like when you go all in on a losing bet) but I can't help feeling like I'm supposed to somehow be trying harder when people ask about my dating life.

The good news is that I learned a few things this time around - and since I know you're all dying to hear those, I'll share. 1. Apparently I actually CAN be in a relationship. Feel free to snicker, but I'm pretty sure there were bets going around on whether or not I could handle relationship-ness. I can. So there. 2. I know who I am. It took awhile, but I can without a doubt tell you that I know me - want I want, what I expect, who I want standing next to me, and what I'll compromise on. That's a large accomplishment in life, if I do say so myself. And finally, 3. Sometimes, they're just not that into you.

The other good news is that I now will have plenty to blog about as I delve back into the world of singlehood. Now, please excuse me while I go order my crazy-cat-lady starter kit.

May your days be filled with those who love you as you deserve...

Sabotage

So, Relationship Jen just hit her first speed bump. I think it was actually some form of Single Jen lying in the middle of commitment road. How's that for a visual?

I have this voice in my head. No, not the ones where only medication will quiet them, but ones who like to tell me that I'm not good enough, smart enough, pretty enough, you name it. Sometimes that voice gets stuck on repeat and I find myself being lulled into accepting that to be true. I hit that place this past weekend. I found myself telling people not to get too excited about recent posts of a relationship because I wasn't sure things were going to work out.

I didn't realize at the time just how clearly I was sabotaging myself. It wasn't until I had a couple of conversations with a great friend (which weren't even about me) that I had the big aha moment. Instead of idly listening to the delusional voice in my head, I had to be strong enough to say what I wanted and know that I deserved it. I had to believe in myself, have some faith in me. And, after some thought, I realized I wanted Relationship Jen (and the relationship). So I had an amazing conversation with an amazing boyfriend, and suddenly the voice in my head quieted.

I'm fairly certain this stupid voice in my head will return at some point, but at least now I'm ready. Single Jen will not sabotage me again. And even if she tries, I know I have the people around me who can shut her up.

And since I know I didn't say it before, thank you to a phenomenal friend for the insight - I'm incredibly grateful to have you in my life.

FBM

Ok, so if you've been paying attention you know that I'm the queen of commitment issues. I've held steadfast to singlehood, running faster than a speeding bullet away from situations in which the first signs of relationship-ness were even hinted at. I've even been known to cause fights to get out of relationshipy-type situations.

But then, if you've been paying attention, you also know that recently I decided to let my guard down and give this whole commitment thing a whirl (gasp)! It's been a few months now and just when I was starting to get comfortable with that idea I was chucked back into the deep dark place within my psyche that only knows one word - RUN.

I was called the "FBM." By him.

Now, I'm fairly certain some of you out there just started lol-ing (yes I said it) but for those of you who don't know what that means (it took me a minute), here it is:

Future. Baby. Mama.

Uh oh.

When I was actually able to stop choking on the cheeseburger I was chewing at the time, I talked myself down from the ledge and out of changing my phone number and deleting my social media accounts. I even laughed about the term (it was a joke right? Right?) and then allowed myself just the teeniest thought of what it would be like to someday be that person.

Single Jen, meet Relationship Jen. This could get interesting.

The BIG Announcement

Do do do do!!!

Big announcement time!

Yes, ladies and gentlemen, it's the moment you've all been waiting (and apparently praying) for...

I am on a hiatus from being single. And before you interject, I completely realize how that sounds. But let's face facts - people don't just change overnight. That holds especially true for someone who has such intense commitment issues as myself. I've been the walking poster child for singlehood for so long that I didn't even see this hiatus coming until it backhanded me in the face. And even then, the "no way, no how, nuh uh uh"of being in a (gasp) relationship came roaring out.

Here's the story (I'll fast forward through the lovey-dovey-ooey-gooey stuff. No reason to make anyone nauseous tonight) to the moment I knew I may still be grasping on to single Jen with both hands - we were hanging out with some friends when one of them said something like, "Jen is trying for the title of his wife." I can't even begin to tell you how thankful I am that he wasn't paying attention at that exact moment because my stomach did about 410 flip flops, my eyes bulged and with a crazed look I said, "no no no no no no no no" faster than it takes to say no once.

Oops.

Now that the panic attack has simmered, I have to admit I'm actually enjoying the hiatus. Life is good - even with some unexpected bumps in the last few months. Maybe...just maybe...single Jen will calm down and start to fade. Or maybe single Jen will win the war.

We shall see.....but either way, there's no reason to buy a wedding gift just yet.

May your days be filled with those who make you happy.

The Attack of the Not-So-Peppy Jen

Please don't call me peppy, energetic or positive.

Not today.

It's funny how labels become so much a part of who we are that we spend our days trying to live up to them. I recently received a group card and almost everyone who signed it referred, in some way, to my positive outlook and incredibly high energy level.

So it's confession time - I'm not always peppy (it's true, I promise). Apparently, though, I'm great at faking it (insert your favorite joke here). But in all seriousness, sometimes it can be really tiring to spend your days living up to the label of perky, peppy and positive.

Take today for example - by the time I hit my couch this afternoon I was beat. I've been sick and emotionally whiplashed, but I had a phone call to make. As I ended the conversation with my father he said, "but it sounds like you're doing ok." Score one for the pretend-to-be-peppy Jen.

Labels are our own creations and then ironically become self-fulfilling prophecies. We spend so much time and effort trying to be the person we think other people want us to be, not the perfectly imperfect selves we truly are. Labels are everywhere, and it's almost impossible to get rid of them. But it's important that we find the people in our lives who allow us to be label-free (or at least let us shed it for a little while). People who dig deeper, see more than the one-dimensional and give you the freedom to do the same. Today I was grateful for those people.

So if you'll excuse me, not-so-peppy Jen needs to go find someone to yell at. Just so you know, though, I'll be back to being peppy first thing tomorrow morning.

Round Two

I think I just quit dating.

In case I haven't said this before, I'm obsessive about punctuality. If you tell me something starts at 5, chances are I'm going to be there at least 10 minutes before 5. I'll be hanging out in my car, but I'll be there. You know that if I start a blog off with this particular tidbit, the rest is not going to be pretty. Without further ado, I present the story of Random Guy #2. I know you've been waiting.

This date was doomed from the start. Random Guy #2 said "meet me at the restaurant at 7." Random Guy #2 showed up at 7:30. I was actually in the process of cashing out my bar tab to head home when he comes waltzing in. Seriously, waltzing. Like he had no cares in the world. That should have been the giant neon sign flashing RUN, but...I suddenly realized I was still hungry and if I had to go through the motions of getting ready and sitting at a bar by myself for 30 minutes, then I should at least get a free meal. So, I stayed.

Bad idea.

Halfway through dinner I found myself sitting in the middle of a Letterman Top Ten skit - the "Top Ten Reasons Why You Should Be Über Grateful I Even Showed Up And Am Sitting Across The Table From You, Even If I Was 30 Minutes Late" skit. I think I stopped listening at reason #4 and started creating my grocery list (in my mind of course - I'm not rude enough to pull out a notepad and pen to write things down, although I'm not sure he would have even noticed). THEN I started thinking about all of the things I could have been doing at home, which was yet another bad idea because all I wanted to do then was go home and start the list. (FYI, you know you're getting older when people are talking and all you're thinking about is laundry and dishes) THEN I started trying to figure out ways to pull out my phone and strategically place it under the table so I could at least do something more productive than listen to how wonderful my date was...like update my Facebook status.

Dinner's finally over and I couldn't get out of there any faster (yes, even without dessert). I honestly believe Random Guy #2 owes me 124.6 minutes of my life back, and the meal we had was nowhere near adequate compensation. I briefly considered naming him in this blog as a way to partially recoup my losses, but then the nicer part of me kicked in - plus, who wants to give a narcissist more free press? Either way, I think I may be over this whole dinner date theory.

And Random Guys.

The Land of Expectations

Ahh...expectations. Aren't they great?

An amazing friend once told me that disappointment is a direct result of expectations and that learning to live without them is the key to a happy life. So, always willing to try something once, I threw caution to the wind and forgot all of my expectations - for about 37 seconds. And while I love him dearly, I'm going to have to respectfully disagree with his philosophy, at least in how it pertains to me and my life. Call me naive (go ahead, I've been called worse) but I like to hope for the best in people, places and things until they have proven otherwise. I expect the best in humankind.

Recently I found myself disappointed in a person and a situation and seriously reconsidered the whole "no expectations" thing. But, after those 37 seconds passed, I once again remembered that's not who I truly am at my core. It's almost impossible for me to live without them.

Bottom line is this - I have expectations and they are a product of exactly what I feel about myself. I don't expect perfection, but I do expect to be treated with kindness and respect, to not have promises made only to be broken, and to have people's words match their actions. This is who I am, what I expect out of life and the people in it. I will not lower or completely forget about the things that matter most to me.

While I'm certain I will be disappointed
In the future, I'll continue to expect the best out of life. I know that there will be plenty of people as I grow that won't be able to meet my expectations. And that's okay, because it's these expectations that will help me weed out the people who don't deserve to be part of my life.

May today you be true to yourself...

The Dating Puddle

And now, the moment you've all been waiting for...a glimpse into the 30-something single-girl dating diary. Dim the lights, pop the popcorn and get comfortable because you're all in for a entertaining treat.

Okay, maybe not.

I have to admit - I'm way out of practice when it comes to this whole dating thing. My last relationship was over 6 years, immediately following a 4 year-er, and my idea of date night was where someone else cooked dinner, there was more than just a fork on the table and I could wear heels (instead of flip flops) with my jeans. I know, I know.

I hate dating. Dating, contrary to what some good-intentioned friends tried to
convince me, is not like riding a bike. Because, you see, bike-riding does not involve progressively more complex and confusing levels as you age. You can wear the same bike-riding pants at 20 as you can at 30 and 40 and 50. You can even ride the same bike (or one just like it). You can get back on a bike seat and everything feels natural all over again. This is not the case for those of us who have been stepping around the dating puddle for such a long time. Apparently the rules (and clothes) of dating change as you age and all of it has the peculiar stench of awkwardness.

But, since we're on this whole living life kick I decided to give it a whirl. I got my nails done, my hair all fancied up, threw on a (gasp) dress and hit the town with random guy #1. Random guy #1 gets his name because we met in a random place, at a random time. I'm assuming there will be a random guy #2 - eventually.

Anywho, I guess in your 30s the word "date" means dinner and then maybe something following dinner if you're lucky enough to not have made a fool out of yourself in the first 60 minutes. Have you ever tried to have a conversation with someone you barely know that you're trying to impress and analyze all at the same time as you're chewing?? It's not that easy. Inevitably, there's always a question that comes right as you take a bite. But, awkward moments aside, dinner was filled with conversation (between chews) and very little silence, which I took as a good sign. Mission accomplished. And, I'm proud to say that I even knew enough not to consume enough alcohol to float a yacht (although the jitters were definitely encouraging me otherwise).

So...dinner's over...here's the true test...and the suggestion was dessert. Hmmm, not sure how to take that one. Here's what went on in my head, "Dessert? We just left a restaurant that served dessert. Is this a true extension of a date? What exactly does dessert mean? Am I over analyzing this? Argh."

Sigh. On to the next awkward moment.

Fears and Tears

Today's blog confession: I made my father cry.

Now I know that in my almost 33 years I've probably done a handful of things that have brought tears to my dad's eyes - like when I got caught by the parish priest writing scandalous non-Catholicy things, or when I blew out my knee and my soccer career went kaput, or when my pending nuptials went spiraling down the drain but I continued to date the ex-fiancé - but this was the first time he actually cried TO me BECAUSE of me. Well, not technically because of me, but more out of fear of something that may be happening.

If you've followed this blog at all, you'll recall my discussions about a particular health issue, which I affectionately refer to as "Carl." There's no actual reason for that other than calling it some random name seems to make it much easier to discuss (for weeks someone in my life thought Carl was a new boyfriend) and a little more palatable. It appears that Carl, much like a new boyfriend, still has a few surprises for me.

Reader's Digest version: My doctor's office called and said "biopsy" in the most chipper voice I've ever heard. Huh? I'm sorry, what is that you just said? I seriously believe Webster should strike that word from the English language. And no one should ever ever say it in a sing-songy voice. It does nothing except incite fear and, inevitably, tears. I shared the news with my dad who took it in stride until the very end of the conversation. He started to say that I needed to have every test I could possibly have, because....

Fear is a powerful thing. It can knock you over, take your breath away, remind you of the doomsday possibilities and distract you from the positive. It sits with you during the quiet, lonely moments, invades your dreams, erases the joy you should feel every day. Fear can hold you back, hold you down and ultimately immobilize you.

But I also believe that giving in to fear is a conscious decision. I sat with my own fears for a few days, then realized I had 2 choices: I could continue to let it define me, or I could defy it. Life is never promised to us, and each day is a very precious gift. So maybe, it some weird way, that too chipper phone call was a wake-up call from the universe, reminding me to grab hold of life and take in each moment I'm given (which included a great big splash back into the dating puddle - more on that in the next post).

Luckily for me, when it was all said and done, the word "biopsy" didn't turn out to be life-altering, unless you count the brand new outlook, new therapies and new meds. It was the good news I had been waiting to hear, the news that would make the fears non-existent, for both me and my dad. I'm honestly hoping this is one of the last times I ever make him cry.

May today you overcome all of your fears, dream all of your biggest dreams, and live in each and every moment.

Just a Quick Note

First, I want to apologize for the lack of witty postings. I have heard from a number of you about my apparent absence from the blog, so I figured I should probably write a quick note.

The truth is I recently had one of those moments when life comes around and knocks you on your ass. For some reason, this time around its been a little harder to get back on my feet than before. I've spent days walking around in emotional zombie land and haven't felt truly inspired to write (or talk or do for that matter) about anything. This is also my apology to those of you in my life who have experienced my lack of interest recently.

So - I may be MIA for a little while, but I will be back to regale you with stories of single hood shortly, just as soon as my legs get back underneath me. Thank you to all of you for your love, support, and continued readership of this fairly random blog, and I will see all of you very soon!

May all of you today find the things that pick you up...

Tiny Ripples

It's true that my life, like everyone else's, has had its share of potholes and brick walls.  Through all of the tragedies and triumphs though, one thing holds true - the universe has surrounded me with exactly the right people in exactly the right moments.  I'm not sure I will ever have the words to adequately describe the strength and support I receive from them, but those people have left enduring marks on my heart.

I have to admit, I was a little caught off-guard by the response to my last posting.  I tend to go off on tangents, especially in areas in which I am passionate, and this was no exception.  Through emails, phone calls and public postings (thank you to a very dear friend for sharing for others to see), I realized that my one tiny ripple reached more people than I could have ever imagined.

Within 48 hours of that posting, I received this poem.  Tonight I want to share it with you.  For all of my readers, both those I know and those I have never met, thank you for allowing me the safe place to open up:

I'm Glad I Touched Shoulders With You

There's a comforting thought at the close of a day

When I'm weary and lonely and sad

That sort of takes hold of my crusty old heart

and bids it be merry and glad.

It gets in my soul and drives out the blues,

and it finally thrills through and through:

It is just a sweet memory that chants the refrain,

I'm glad I touched shoulders with you.

Did you know you were brave,

Did you know you were strong?

Did you know that I waited and prayed

and was cheered by your simplest word?

Did you know that I longed for the smile on your face?

For the sound of your voice ringing true?

Did you know I grew stronger and better because

I have merely touched shoulders with you?

I'm glad that I live, that I battle and strive

For the place that I know I must fill;

I am thankful for sorrows; I'll meet with a grin

What fortune may send, good or ill.

I may not have wealth, I may not be great,

But I know I shall always be true,

For I have for eternity that love that you gave

Because I rubbed shoulders with you.

-Author Unknown

May you all continue to be that light for others.

Let's Talk About It

I just attended a domestic violence conference and between the heart-wrenching statistics shared there and the media storm that accompanied all of the young girls who tweeted they would allow Chris Brown to beat them following his appearance on the Grammy's, I feel compelled to do something I have very rarely done.

So let's talk about it.

Earlier in my life, I became involved with a guy that I originally thought was pretty damn amazing.  He seemed to be well-liked, had a bit of a bad boy edge, and was definitely into me.  Little did I know what I was actually getting involved in after that first date.

Through a series of events (which we'll save for some future blog), I had begun to think that love somehow involved some version of hurt.  My self-esteem was already floundering when I met this guy, I was at a point in my life where I had just started to come into my own and develop my own identity, and I fell HARD.  Things seemed wonderful at first....but even that didn't last very long.

Over the course of a few months it became increasingly obvious that I was much more considered property than a girlfriend.  I was expected to do things, say things, be things that he wanted, and there was constant ridicule and humiliation if I failed to comply.  At some point, things went from verbal and emotional abuse to physical. I somehow managed to hide the increasing amount of violence from everyone who loved me while still attempting to hold on to this "man".

One of the last violent moments still sticks in my mind as if it is somehow permanently imprinted there, like a horrible nightmare that just keeps replaying over and over.  It was late and I was ready to leave his house, ready to go home for the night.  I had already heard some really not-so-pleasant things about me, my body, and, without going into graphic details, my ways of doing things.  When I vocalized that I was heading home, the look in his eyes was almost crazed.  I was stripped of my clothing and locked in a room - an effort aimed at imparting humiliation and degradation but also at making it very clear who was actually in charge.  Again, no graphic details here, but it was a very long night.  When I finally arrived home I looked as if I had just been hit by a bus - I was covered in ash and Jack Daniels and could see the beginnings of more than just a few bruises.

Something in me came alive when I looked in the mirror that day.  I knew that if my parents had seen me (or smelled for that matter) that morning I would be in serious trouble.  More than anything, though, I knew I would see the concern in their eyes.  It's then that the voice in my head finally spoke up to support me - saying that there was no way I could continue on this path.

I made the decision to get out, made my plan, and eventually packed up and moved to California.  But the violence didn't end there.  He attacked me via all forms of social networking (at that time it was email and instant messenger - thank goodness Twitter and Facebook didn't exist, who knows how horrible that could have been) and flew out to California.  I became a statistic (it takes, on average, 7 attempts to leave an abusive situation), but when I refused to do the things he wanted me to do because the voice in my head was getting stronger, he attacked me verbally, told me I was never going to be wife-material, and packed up and left.  I never spoke to him again.

Let me be perfectly clear here - just because I walked away from an abusive relationship doesn't mean I am any better than those who choose to stay.  What it does mean is that one day I realized that I couldn't do it anymore, that I couldn't be that person any longer.  I do not look at women who choose to stay and blame them.  I WAS them.  For a long time.  It took a very long time to be able to look at myself in the mirror, to believe that the person staring back at me was not the person he convinced me I was.  I still have those moments today, more than 10 years later.  I understand the pain and heartbreak associated with an abusive relationship, both being in one and leaving one.  I understand the toll that takes on you and your life for years. I hope that if you are reading this and identifying with the situation, that you are not judged but supported by those who really love you.

So what needs to be done? What we need is not only to teach our girls that they are strong, competent, and that no man is ever going to be worth that, but also to teach our boys that violence is NEVER EVER okay.  I am not property, you are not my master, and the belief systems that encourage that way of thinking need to disappear.  We'll be able to do that when we start speaking up, loudly, and putting a face and a name to the violence.

You now have mine.

May all of you be treated with dignity, respect and love - today and always.

The Upside of Running Away

A few weeks back I took a much needed break from reality.  I packed a bag, decided against telling anyone I was leaving and ran away from my life.  And while I know there are a few of you out there skipping over words right now trying to get to the juicy part of THAT story, I’m sorry to say I’m still not sharing.  I firmly believe there are some moments, some memories in our lives that we should keep just for ourselves.  Ones that we only share with the person(s) we made them with.  But I digress.

I had reached a point in my life in which simply turning off the ringer on my phone and curling up on the couch wasn’t going to do any good.  I needed to be someone other than Jen, if only for a few days.  I needed to shut off the every day and be free to absorb the little joys in life.

  

We all have moments that can wreak havoc on our emotions - different situations that lead to a questioning of ourselves and if we’re truly on the right path.  I have a tendency to allow myself to be overpowered by the voice in my head that, despite any visible successes, knows exactly what to say to knock me off my feet.  This voice can become massive and cruel and can use almost any situation to point out all of my fears and weaknesses, turning them into some skewed version of the truth.  

I have learned, throughout my life, that running away from my problems for a short amount of time helps alleviate the voice in my head.  I think that denial is the mind’s way of allowing the body to continue to heal because if we continued to be stuck inside our minds, our physical selves would deteriorate until there was nothing left.  

I’m not saying that running away is a permanent coping skill to problems in our lives.  All that really happens then is the our problems find new homes in the places we ran to.  But running away for a short amount of time can give us the energy we need to face whatever challenges await with the courage and strength that was being depleted.  

And while I’m still not sharing, I will tell you that my break from Jen was exactly what I needed at that exact moment.  And for that I am grateful - grateful for those who accept me for who I am and for those who allow me to be whatever I want to be.

May you all find moments of rejuvenation today...