I wonder how many receptors Marilyn Monroe has...

So, I feel terrible because the other day I promised some good laughs in one of this week's posts, and I have yet to deliver on that promise. (Unless, of course, you laughed out loud to one of my other posts this week, in which case you are my favorite reader.) The problem is, I'm having some technical difficulties with the humorous post that I originally planned. So now you'll have to wait another week, which is totally anti-climactic, and now when I do publish the post, you'll be all, "That was it? I had to wait a week and a half for THAT?" So, just forget I ever said anything and that way when I do publish the post that I consider to be hilarious, you will regard it with equal hilarity.

I'm very tired tonight. I'm writing this post later than I normally do because it's the night before Halloween and I have a five-year-old. You do the math. Also, I'm going to a Halloween party tomorrow night dressed as Marilyn Monroe, for some crazy reason. And that means a full-service grooming session is in order. Why did I decide to go as one of the most iconic women of all time, again? Oh yeah, it's because I didn't want to be a slutty pirate, nurse, witch, barmaid... you name it, they're all slutty. Some of you may argue that Marilyn Monroe is no Puritan herself, and you would be right. But the costume I chose makes me look like a nun compared to some of those other ones. But I will save that rant for another time.

My point is, tonight is not the night for me to dig into the philosophical recesses of my brain to find a topic worth discussing. Instead, I will leave you with this:

This morning on a radio show I heard that women have 32 to 34 emotional receptors in their brains. Guess how many emotional receptors men have? 2 to 4.

Men, now you know why we women are such lunatics. And women, now you know why men are such buffoons.

Good night.

Oh, and Happy Halloween.

Don't dress slutty.

Good night for reals.

The Almighty Set-Up

There's this woman at work who's always trying to set me up with someone. Whenever I walk by her desk, which is often, she'll say something like, "You know who would be perfect for you? My cousin's neighbor's best friend's brother." Or worse, "What about that guy in advertising?" It's okay when she's talking about some stranger twice removed, but when she brings it in-house it just gets awkward.

For years, people have been trying to set me up with some great guy they know. And I have mixed feelings about that. First of all, it rarely turns into anything. And when it doesn't work out, my friendship with the matchmaker inevitably becomes a little strained.

One time, a few years ago, a different co-worker tried to set me up with her best guy friend. We went on a date, and it just wasn't flowin' for me. And to make things worse, he gave me this really cheesy line. Actually, it would have been a pretty cool line, except I happened to know that it was quoted directly from an episode of The Cosby Show circa 1990. I wanted so badly to say, "Dude, that line sooo isn't yours.... oh, and The Cosby Show? Really? I mean I love that show but if you're gonna steal a line, shouldn't it be from something studly and sexy like Jerry Maguire or a Prince song or something?" At least he was somewhat original, in that he is probably the only man on the planet who got a good love line from Bill Cosby.

After that date, I had to break the news to my friend the matchmaker that I wasn't interested in her friend. And it felt like I was breaking up with her. She looked totally bummed. And I can see why. After all, I was basically telling her that her judgment was off, that her taste was not as great as she thought it was.

But I think the main reason why set-ups rarely work is because it's so forced. The two people get together knowing they're only there based on the opinion of a mutual friend, which automatically takes away that glorious experience of Random Chance Encounter. (Kind of like online dating—ha!)

I've never been a matchmaker myself. Which is why I actually really admire those people who do take great joy in pairing people up. What an unselfish thing to do, ya know? The fact that my current co-worker thought of me when she met her cousin's neighbor's best friend's brother is solid proof that she is others-focused. Which is another reason why I don't want to hurt her feelings if any of her suggestions don't work out. It was so nice of her to think of me in the first place—how could I possibly let her down?

I have had one successful relationship as a result of a set-up (from yet another co-worker, I just realized; I'm sensing a pattern here...). Well, it was successful in that it lasted for five months, which isn't all that long but it's a lot longer than one date.

Are any of you in a relationship now that is the product of some good matchmakin'? Tell me about it.

Black and white and gray all over

Tonight I had baked potatoes for dinner, which is always a rather frustrating experience for me. I can't CUT the stupid things. When my dad cuts a potato, he cuts it as crisply and precisely as possible. When I cut one, it crumbles all over the place, and no two pieces look the same.

It's like when I was 15 years old and I worked at Dairy Queen. I'm pretty sure I was the worst Dairy Queen employee on earth. I could not make those bumps in the ice cream that are, like, DQ's trademark. And the little curly-cue on the top? Forget about it. Every time I made a cone or a sundae, it would come out lopsided, with one big blob on the top. After awhile, my boss and co-workers gave up on trying to teach me the right way to shape the ice cream, and instead they shoved me off to Blizzard duty. After all, Blizzards were supposed to be messy.

I like to think that my inability to form foods to their appointed molds translates to how I view life. That may seem like a stretch, but hear me out...

I don't see life in black and white. There are some things that are crystal clear to me, of course. But when it comes to people, and especially when it comes to relationships (romantic or otherwise), there is no black and white. I believe that, like Blizzards, people are just supposed to be messy.

When I was with Paris, this concept was—in my opinion—the root of our problem. He was cut-and-dry, yes-or-no, black-and-white, while I was all willy nilly and preferred the color gray. He believed that people make mistakes and there are clearly defined reasons for those mistakes and the person must be held accountable to their actions. Whereas I believed that there are millions of tiny (and some not-so-tiny) complexities that lead up to the mistakes that a person makes. I was a little too forgiving, and Paris wasn't forgiving at all. Which resulted in a vicious cycle that never saw resolution.

In my next relationship, my goal is to find a healthy middle ground. I have to develop a thicker skin so that, if my mate gets angry with me for a justifiable reason, I will take responsibility for my actions. But I also hope that he gets angry with me only for justifiable reasons, and will let me off the hook for some of the other stupid things I do or have done in my past. I have hope that this kind of balance is achievable.

Now the potatoes and ice cream cones? No hope there. I am and always will be incurably messy.

Guest Blog: The Deepest Circle of Hell

Since I've started this blog, a few of my friends have approached me saying that they're going through a particular experience involving relationships and they think I should write about it. And I'd be happy to, except in some cases it wouldn't mean anything coming from me. The people who can say it best are the ones who are living it at that moment.

So I decided to feature a "guest blog" every once in a while, from the people who I think have a good story to tell. The first one comes from my friend Seth. Seth and I have a lot in common, in that we both got engaged around the same time and then broke off those engagements at the same time. We didn't even know each other at that point.

Below, Seth writes about a sobering but valuable lesson he has learned since the breakup. I'm sure anyone who has ever been in love can relate, to some extent. Enjoy...  -JS

__________________________________________________

Hi, I’m a guest blogger. 25. Male. While I don’t have much “relational baggage,” (most of my dating life has been pretty typical, not nearly exciting enough for blog format) I was confronted with one of the most terrible truths of my entire life this weekend.  

The backstory: I was engaged (oh so briefly) to a woman (who we’ll call Tara) who suffered from Borderline Personality Disorder. Breaking it off was very tough, but I went to counseling and worked out my junk, used the money from the ring to buy a new racing bicycle and an XBOX 360, and life got back to normal.  

But often the most terrible part of a break-up is not the pain of being alone, but facing who you were. It was just last night at a social gathering when one of my best friends Cathy and I were re-telling college stories to her new boyfriend, and the topic of my engagement came up. Normally, I can put a somewhat bright face on this negative event, and turn one of the toughest events of my life into a big party joke for the amusement of others.

 
But Cathy jumped in and took the lead on this particular retelling, and for the first time, I heard back all the words I had spoken to her a year before. When Cathy had tried to warn me about my fiancée, I told her off, and informed her that I wouldn’t be speaking to her for a while until she learned her lesson.

A few weeks after this happened, Tara complained that it was “inappropriate” for me to have lunch with my female college friend while I was on business in Nashville. I complied, and ducked out of the commitment.  

This pattern continued until I had alienated four of my five (three male and two female, for the record) best friends from college.

On the day that Tara and I got engaged, I called my mom for 2 minutes, told her the news like I was telling her the weather, and then didn’t return her calls for a week.  

Anyone who knows me well will tell you that this is VERY unlike me. (My mom and my friends were shocked, and started calling each other to try and figure out what was going on).

A year later, I’m not sure how I sunk to levels this low, to betray my best friends, and my own mother. Ironically, when I broke up with Tara, it was these six people who surrounded me with love and helped me put the pieces back together.  

The lesson: be careful about what a relationship costs you. Every choice in life costs something, be it our time, energy, or thoughts. And relationships cost something too.  

With the really good ones, this cost is well worth it. But no single relationship should cost you all your others. If the “price tag” on the “love of your life” reads “those closest to you,” then the price is far too high.  

In Dante’s classic poem “The Inferno,” the deepest circle of hell is not reserved for murders, rapists, child molesters, or even those who orchestrated genocide. The most terrible part of hell is reserved solely for men who turned their backs on their friends.  

I have lost love, and I have no regrets.

I have betrayed friends, and it’s the biggest regret of my life, the single choice of which I am most utterly ashamed, the mark I would trade happiness, success, and wealth to erase.  

Love is a wonderful thing.

But be careful what it costs.

ODE update, 'n stuff

Well, it's been one week since I began my Online Dating Experiment (ODE). I've received winks and emails from other Matchos (my new term for the guys on Match.com) on a daily basis, and I still don't quite know what to do with all of that. 

I like analyzing the emails. Some of the guys are pretty creative and ask questions as if they really are interested in me. And others seem to have a more "blanket" email, something along the lines of "I like your profile, I would like to get to know you better, I am a boring person who can't think of anything clever to say, blah blah blah." 

And then there are the creepies. I've only received one so far. It was from a guy who had a very minimal profile (no photo or anything), and the message simply said, "Saw 5." I'm hoping that he accidentally sent the message before he finished typing the rest of the sentence. ("Saw 5 typos in your profile," perhaps? Nah, not even possible.) I'm really hoping that he was not referring to the movie Saw 5. I haven't even seen that flick but it looks like the kind that would make me pee my pants in fear. And I can't figure out why he would write that in a message to me. Can anyone who has seen that film shed some light? 

Speaking of light, I think I'm going to sleep with all of them on tonight. Yech.

The thing is, creepy, creative or boring, I can't seem to write ANY of them back. It just feels so empty, communicating with strangers in that way. I don't even know what to say to them because I have no connection to them whatsoever. 

Ugh, I want to like ODE. I really do. Maybe I should go on a date with one of the Matchos, just so I can experience the whole spectrum of the online dating scene, and then I'll be done with it. Or maybe the in-person meeting will actually convert me into an online dating aficionado. I doubt it. But I'm keeping an open mind. (But I doubt it.)

But enough about that silliness. Now onto some items of bizness, y'all...

1) If you have a Twitter account—you are awesome, first of all. Also, I would like to follow you. And if you can stand to hear my wacky thoughts throughout the day, you can follow me here. (My Twitter name is julietseeks). I aim to entertain, but I'll let you be the judge.

2) Most of my posts this past week have (coincidentally) ended with me asking for feedback from you folks. I was feeling especially inquisitive, I guess. But I'd like to say a big Thank You to those of you who offered your thoughts and opinions. In the short time I've been writing this blog, I've learned a lot from you crazy kids. Keep the comment love comin'!

3) If you're looking for a good laugh, you might want to read this blog later this week. That's all I'm sayin'.

Bill, Bobby, and that other B word

Because in my last post I was all braggin' about my aura, I am now going to indulge in a giant slice of Humble Pie. 

I mentioned in that post that my middle school years were rather awkward. And I've already told the story of the jerky track star who said I look funny when I run. That's just one of the many horror stories from my adolescent attempts at love. 

But the one I'm about to tell takes the cake.

When I was in 7th grade, my friend Tara was "going with" a boy named Bill. (Which reminds me, did anyone else call it "going with"? It seems the more people I talk to, the more I find that that term might have been unique to my particular school at that particular time. It also sounds like something my grandmother would say.)

Anyway, one day Tara and Bill came up with a brilliant idea to set me up with their friend Bobby. This is how that "set-up" transpired...

Tara [on the phone with Bill] to me: Hey, do you want to go with Bobby?

Me: Who's Bobby?

Tara: Bill's friend.

Me: Oh. Yeah, sure.

Tara [to Bill]: She said she'll go with him.

Tara then handed me the phone so I could talk to my new boyfriend for the first time in my life.

Later that week, the four of us went to the movies, where Bobby and I finally met in person. About 10 minutes into the movie, Bobby got out of his seat. I assumed that he was going to the bathroom, but nearly a half hour passed and he was still gone. I leaned over and asked Bill to go check on Bobby and make sure he was okay. I was such a good girlfriend.

A few minutes later Bill came back, without Bobby. 

"So is he okay?" I asked.

"Huh?," Bill said. "Oh yeah, he's fine."

"Then what's he doing?" I asked.

"Oh, he doesn't wanna go with you no more. He thinks you're butt ugly."

That's right... Butt. Ugly. Not just ugly! No, Bill couldn't spare me the agony of hearing that other word, which is a word I happen to hate with a passion, and which at that moment was a word being used to describe ME!

As you can imagine, the damage from that experience lingered for a long time. I became obsessed with dropping the "butt" and working my way up to just "ugly." And maybe someday even "pretty," but I didn't really think that was possible, considering the horrible insult I'd received. 

Man, were those middle school years brutal. Thank goodness I learned how to survive the blows, only to come out stronger in the end. That's why I can now look back and poke fun of those moments. I have plenty more funny/embarrassing stories to tell from that period in my life, so stay tuned.

Free Square

Two years ago I went to a women's health conference that featured a fabulous motivational speaker named Victoria Moran. In her speech, she encouraged us to identify our "free square." The free square, as you know, is the term used in Bingo for that box in the middle on which every player can put a free chip without having to do anything. I've always thought it was nice of Bingo to do that. How many other games offer you a handout before play even begins? Move over billiards, I prefer to hang with the more generous Bingo, thank you very much.

Anyway, in this woman's speech, she metaphorizes (totally made up that word) the "free square" as the one thing that naturally comes easily to people. For instance, Victoria's free square is that she meets famous people all the time—and in random ways, not just because she's a public speaker. I have a friend whose dad wins radio contests on a regular basis. My sister always seems to find the most amazing items at the most incredible discount. (Like, discounts come to her.)

The free square is that odd little quirk that comes easily to an individual, all throughout one's life. Victoria said it was like "the universe's" way of giving you a little extra nudge. And she encouraged us to figure out what our free square is so that we can maximize it to better our lives. 

After hearing the speech, my aforementioned sister and I were trying to identify my free square. After a few minutes, lil' sis perked up, her eyes wide. "I know what it is," she said with conviction.

"What is it?" I asked.

"Men."

 

I thought about that for a minute. And then I remembered that ever since I was young (except for the very awkward middle school years), whenever I liked a guy, he would inevitably end up liking me. It's weird. He might not even know I exist, but once I decide I like him, within a matter of only a few days, he's paying attention to me in some form or another. And I'm not pushy about it or anything. Sometimes I don't even say a word. It just happens.

HUMONGO, GINORMOUS, BEHEMOTHIC DISCLAIMER: 

I realize that I sound extremely conceited to say these things. But I honestly think it has nothing to do with who I am externally. I am not saying that I'm hot to trot nor too cool for school. I really think this is just a natural thing. To borrow Victoria's universe-type terminology, it's the "aura" I give off. And I can't possibly brag about my aura because it didn't show up by my own doing. It's like how cashmere sweaters cost my sister $5.00 when they cost everyone else $500.00. She didn't do anything special to receive that discount; it's just chance. And it makes me sick.

 

The problem is, I don't think I've maximized my free square in the way that Victoria encouraged us to do. Because the whole drawing-men-in thing leads to relationships, and my past few relationships have certainly NOT come as easily to me. So what I need to do is be a little more exclusive about who my free square invites in. I need to push away those Bingo chips that are cracked or missing a portion, and instead I need to accept only the bright and shiny chips.

I love metaphorizing. Sigh.

What's your free square? Figure it out and leave a comment about it, because this fascinates the heck out of me.

The Spectacular American Wedding

Tonight I went to a bridal show. And before you get any crazy ideas, I assure you that I was not there for my own wedding. Not even close. 

No, I go to a lot of bridal shows for my job, and boy, have I seen the unglamorous side of weddings that way. All of the vendors crave the brides' attention, striving to sell them on the fact that they are different from every other florist/photographer/DJ in the room. And you'd think the brides would be excited to be there, but they really don't appear to be. They're all business, just trying to find the best deal and the prettiest tiara. (Ugh, don't get me started on tiaras.) 

 

It's kind of ironic, if you think about it. You fill a huge room with people who are dedicated to creating the most romantic day of a couple's life. But in doing so, every ounce of romance is removed, replaced by cliché marketing lines from overeager vendors and slow, uninterested nods from emotionally drained brides.

Which causes me to wonder... has the traditional, middle-class American wedding become one big superficial spectacle? Tonight one of my co-workers told me that his wedding had 450 guests. Wowza, that's a lot of people. Then he said both he and his wife now feel that a visit to the courthouse with a couple of witnesses would have been more fulfilling. That sounds horribly boring to me, but maybe he has a point.

When I was engaged, I didn't have a huge budget to work with, but it was sufficient enough for an average wedding. My fiancé argued that we should instead spend that money on a down payment for a home. But I wanted my wedding!, I whined. I had to watch all of my friends get married and now it was MY turn. Yes, it was my turn to have 200 people watch me walk down the aisle in a beautiful gown and then to have a $500 dollar cake smashed in my face. 

My. Turn.

It seems so selfish and silly when I look back on it, but if I were engaged right now I'd probably be thinking the same thing. I don't want my wedding to be a secret, I want it to be a spectacle!

Those of you who had the traditional wedding... I would like your input. If you could do it all over again, would you do it the same way? Or are you in agreement with my co-worker that the courthouse would have sufficed?

Do tell...

Just Say No... to TV

I came across this article on MSN, about how a couple made a commitment to go without TV for their first year of marriage.

I'm not married but I totally think this is a great idea. Television can be an easy distraction when conversation is dull or unwanted. It fills the space where there might be a void... or it can create the void in the first place.

I know some of you reading this are bigtime TV aficionados. And I'm not judgin', I swear! But just imagine for a sec the many things you could do with your spouse (and/or your kids) if the TV wasn't there to lure you with its shiny pictures and addictive plots.

I think the concluding paragraph sums it up nicely:

And for now, as peculiar as it may seem, this TV-free experience is giving us a priceless gift: the ability to kick off our marriage with a solid foundation of communication. Having no TV has challenged us to stop watching other people live their lives and to start living our own. I recommend turning off the tube to all couples. I guarantee you: It's reality TV at its finest.

You can read the entire article here.

But first, have any of you tried going without TV for a period of time, for the sake of enriching your marriage? (Or for any other reason?) If so, how did it go?

This online dating stuff is weird

So I was feeling all good about myself today because I received six emails and six "winks" from guys on Match.com. Almost every time I checked my email, I was getting a message from Match saying that someone was interested in me! 

I was starting to strut my stuff, until I went to my profile and saw how many people had actually looked at my profile today... 76. Seventy-six men looked at my profile, and 64 of them decided they weren't interested enough to even click on the little Wink icon! My big head was deflated in a nanosecond. It deserved that, I suppose. But it liked feeling desired, dangit.

Of course, I couldn't READ the emails until I subscribed to the devil that is Match.com. They let you do your profile and see other people's profiles for free, but in order to read the 6 messages in your inbox, you have to pay a monthly fee. And because I am a product of our instant gratification culture, I just had to read what those messages said. So I forked over the cash for a one-month subscription. 

I feel like I've sold out.

But it was fun to read what the whopping six people had to say about me. My head was filling up a little again, after reading their flattering messages. I think the trick is to write a witty "Profile Headline." Here's mine: "I'm a good girl, love my mama. Love Jesus and America too... I also happen to be crazy 'bout Elvis." 

So most of the emails I received had something to do with Tom Petty. They all thought I was a huge Petty fan, but actually I'm not. I just have always related to those lyrics in his song "Free Fallin'" and thought it made sense for a dating website. Apparently it was a big hit. Except to the 64 people who didn't like me.

While I was checking my emails, some of the guys started to IM me. Anyone who knows me well knows I can't stand instant messaging. I'm a writer, an editor. I like to take my time with words. And I like spontaneous conversation when it's face-to-face, not through a little box on my computer screen. It's so much pressure, IM-ing!! So whenever someone started to chat with me, I pretended I didn't see it. But I felt bad after awhile and so I chatted briefly with a "Mr. Pringle." He was pretty cool. He asked me what my job is and I told him, and he said, "You're a rarity on here. Most girls have bad jobs or are uneducated." And that actually made me feel like MORE of a loser, because despite my intelligence, I'm still trying to find love on a friggin' website.

I'm trying to warm up to this, really. I do see how love connections can be made, and it is a nice service for those who don't have many outlets for meeting people. It's just so awkward in the beginning. I'm not accustomed to getting emails from strangers telling me they think I'm beautiful. When I read their flattery and, mostly, when I respond to it, I feel like I need to take a shower afterward.

But I'm only doing this for one month (because there's no way I'm paying that subscription fee again!) and I'm doing it for "research." So I guess I'll stick it out and see what happens.

'Cause I'm free, baby. Free fallin'.

The Online Dating Experiment Begins

Day One of my new Online Dating Experiment (ODE)...

Oh my goodness. I thought it would take maybe a half hour to do an online dating profile. It took two hours. Of course, I had to be all clever and stuff. I didn't want lame responses like "I like long walks on the beach..." So instead I opted for the more thought-provoking (read: trying too hard) statements like "I'm looking for someone who shares my passion for the intricate details of life. Someone who is confident in his own skin, but not cocky. (There is a big difference.) Someone who will make me and others laugh. Someone who brings energy to a room when he walks into it." Every man is going to want me because I am SO UNIQUE.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Before creating a profile, I had to decide which online dating site I was going to go with. I'd like to thank all of the readers who gave me suggestions. I garnered from those suggestions that eHarmony was a big fat no. So I narrowed my choices to Match.com and Plentyoffish.com. The Plentyoffish one kind of bothered me. It is free, which is nice, but it's a little too much like the personal ads in the paper. Plus, I don't like how the name looks in the URL. Every time I read it, my instincts tell me that the name is Plenty Offish. Which doesn't make sense, and also brings to mind the word "standoffish." Which is not a word I'd like to associate with a dating website.

Yes, I'm picky. And yes, that is why I'm still single.

I thought that Match.com's home page was rather amusing. Below are a few quotes from that page, describing certain aspects of the website.

1) "With over 15 million singles online, Match.com is so sure you'll find someone special within six months, we're willing to guarantee it with our Make Love Happen guarantee." Is this like when those informercials promise you'll get your money back if The Ab Monster XL doesn't, in fact, give you rock-hard abs? So they're comparing my very own well-being to a piece of equipment? I'm glad to know that I matter to Match.com.

2) "Okay, so you've searched through available singles and you've seen someone you think you may connect with... Now, it's time to subscribe, because flirting is fun, but email is where the real love connections are made." Excuse me? Email is where love connections are made? EMAIL?? Whatever happened to having an actual date? Looking into someone's eyes? I know that they're speaking in context with how the site works, but when taken on its own, this sentence is sadly disturbing.

3) "Think about how much you spend on a night out at a bar. Or how much you spend on a movie and a bag of popcorn. How quickly would you give up one of these for a lifetime of love with someone special? Is it worth it? Get started now and find out for yourself!" Ah, here's where they get ya. You would spend money on a date anyway, so skip the date, stay at home, sit in front of your computer for hours, and spend that money instead on an automated service that will connect you with hundreds of other potential dates. It's an investment, you see. 

4) The conclusive sentence was the best one by far: "So what have you got to lose, besides more nights cuddling with your pillow?" They just had to get that one last jab in there, didn't they? I happen to like my pillow, thank you very much. It's soft and it doesn't snore.

Despite my beef with these things, I decided to go with Match.com after all. Mainly because I was tired of searching around for other sites. And it's a good thing I didn't take any more time searching because it took so long to fill out my clever and creative profile. More on that experience tomorrow.

Stolen

One of my favorite love songs of all time is "Stolen" by Dashboard Confessional. Between the simple but compelling lyrics, the melody that pulls on my heartstrings, and the stunning good looks of lead singer Chris Carrabba... I'm sold.

Here's the video. It paints a pleasantly romantic picture of a lifelong love finally realized.

And girls... Chris Carrabba. Am I right?

Unpacking my Baggage, Part 6

The months following my un-engagement were confusing at best. I'm sure anyone who's been through a major breakup will agree that it's similar to grieving the death of a loved one. For a while you're in shock, then you're angry, then you're just plain numb... 

I experienced all of these feelings and more, which is fine, except that Paris was still pursuing me heavily. In my (many) moments of weakness, I'd cave under his charming nuances, and before I knew it we became that on-again-off-again couple that I've always rolled my eyes at.

He would convince me that he'd changed, and in many ways he really had. I could tell that my leaving him (the first time) really opened his eyes to some of his ridiculousness. But every time we tried to get back together, little red flags would start flying all over my head and heart, and in a panic, I would end it. And then we'd start talking again. And then I'd end it. Again. Each time was more emotional and dramatic than the last. I was a wreck.

All this time, in the back of my mind was a sermon I'd heard a couple of years ago, from a pastor who was preaching on relationships. Two things he said stuck out to me often, in the form of the aforementioned red flags:

1) If you are one of those couples who go through huge ups and downs, are constantly breaking up and getting back together, you should end the relationship for good because that's never going to change.

2) If he makes you cry now, he will make you cry twenty years from now, and every year in between.

These things are so true, and yet it took a million and one times for me to get it through my thick head. In hindsight, I know that there are many reasons why I kept going back to him. The most base reason is because he really was soooo desirable. But also.... ugh, this is the first time I'm admitting this "out loud".... but I was afraid that if I let him go, he would move on with his life and forget all about me. And at the time, that was an unbearable thought.

It was when I finally came to terms with this that I knew I needed to end it. For good. And for real this time. My reasons for wanting him were purely selfish. That wasn't fair to me and it certainly wasn't fair to him. I was leading him on, essentially, out of my own insecure motives.

So finally, on a warm July evening, I told him that that we both needed to cut all ties completely so that the vicious cycle wouldn't continue to repeat itself. I told him that it was over. As in, over over.

And I haven't seen Paris since.

Rules of Engagement

I wrote this post back in July, before this blog even existed. I had originally planned on starting the blog at that time but it didn't work out. So the timeliness of this post is a little off, what with its reference to a TV show, but its message is one that I still would like to put out there. So, digest... 

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The other night I watched The Bachelorette season finale. I kinda can’t stand that show. (He’s the most amazing person you’ve ever met…in your whole entire life? Now that's serious. And eloquent.) But there was nothing better on and I was determined to veg on the couch for the first time this decade, so there it is.

In the (Most Dramatic Ever!) finale, the bachelorette chose this goofy, fun-loving guy who also proclaimed endless sappy superlatives about her. He got down on one knee, proposed, she said yes, and they lived happily ever after.

Following the finale came the hour-long “After the Rose” segment, so that viewers—still high from rose petals, icky real-people French kisses, and words like "soulmate"—could catch up to the couple in real time. Are they still together? Did she choose the wrong man? Find out, after these messages.

All throughout the “After the Rose” show, the commentator guy kept teasing the viewers further at commercial breaks: “Coming up, the happy couple makes a shocking announcement!” Which was perfect for me because I happen to love shocking announcements. I continued watching.

After 45 minutes of assurances that the couple is still together, they finally come to the shocking announcement, which is…. drum roll please… are you ready for this?…. The engaged couple SET A DATE for their wedding!!!

Woo. Hoo.

But get this... then the commentator turns to the couple’s families, who are sitting in the front row, and says, “So what do you guys think? Not only are they engaged but they’re getting married!”

Ummm... Am I missing something? Isn’t “being engaged” supposed to mean that you’re “getting married”? Isn’t the whole purpose behind a proposal to make a statement that you plan to marry someone?

This has been a gripe of mine for some time now. About two years ago, a coworker told me that his brother had just proposed to his girlfriend. A few months ago I realized there hadn’t yet been a wedding, so I asked my coworker if they’re still engaged. He said yes. "So when’s the wedding?" I asked. His reply was, and I quote, “Oh, they’re not getting married.” As if he were saying, “Oh, you don’t eat the crayons, silly.”

Somewhere along the line, the rules of commitment have changed. The engagement ring has become nothing more than a super-duper promise ring. I know that I broke off my engagement, but at least up until that point I had planned on actually marrying the guy. Why do some people even bother getting engaged if they have no intention of getting married? 

I just don't get it.

But don’t you worry about the Bachelorette and her most amazing man in the whole wide universe. They’re soulmates. We can make fun of them all we want, but at least they understand the action that is supposed to go with the commitment.

This month, anyway.

Because I just LOVE experiments

Well, the online dating poll was a tight race all day, until the final comment took the lead for the "yay" team. 

Interesting responses. The people who explained the reason behind their votes (and some did so offline) were each quite convincing. The nay-sayers were especially passionate, which makes sense if you think about it. They prefer passion, chance, kismet over formulas and automated searches. I prefer the former as well, but look where that's gotten me so far. 

So here's what I'm thinking. I'd say it's time for another experiment, wouldn't you? So I'm going to start an online dating profile on Match.com or eHarmony.com or I'mDesperate.com or whatever, and I'll periodically document my experiences and evaluations here. 

(What am I getting myself into? Don't ever say I'm not dedicated to the purposes of this blog. Oh my.)

Stay tuned...

Virtual Insanity

A few weeks ago, I met a friend of a friend. This girl was the kind that every woman wants to hate but just can't seem to muster up the jealousy because she's so darn nice. She's also cool, very intelligent and drop-dead gorgeous.

So when she told me that she had met her long-time boyfriend (who also sounds like quite a catch) on the Internet, I was floored. For some reason, I've always believed that online dating either a) doesn't work, or b) works only for weird people. So to hear that it worked for two seemingly not-weird people, and has resulted in a relationship that's lasted for several years? I'm beginning to feel my closed mind open up a bit. I hate when it does that.

I've never participated in online dating myself. A few of my friends have encouraged me to give it a shot, but to me that just means accepting total desperation. Hello, I'm a single white female who can't for the life of me find a guy in the real world, so I'm going to sit in front of a tiny screen and hope THAT does the trick.

I believe that when you find someone it should just happen; you shouldn't go looking for it in such an obvious way... nor fill out an application in order to do so. Plus, I've seen some of my friends go through some crazy online dating disasters. In fact, I might just dedicate one whole post to these disasters, because they're kinda funny. Ahem, I mean, tragic. Totally tragic.

But it did work for my new friend, who is clearly not the desperate type. Maybe I've been wrong about online dating after all. But instead of making up my own mind, I'm going to let you do it for me, in the form of another poll...  Online dating: yay or nay?

What If?

The economic crisis in the last couple of weeks has been rather eye-opening for me, as for most of you, I'm sure. The details are way over my head, so I've been relying on the explanations of people smarter than me to get as much info as I can. Some of them say that things will improve soon and we'll all be okay. Others' viewpoints are much more doom and gloom. I'm not intelligent enough on the subject to be able to make my own predictions. However, I do think that even if the doom-and-gloomers end up being correct, it may be a good thing.

Let's say, for example, that it gets so bad that we fall into another economic depression. The idea of that kind of excites me, to be honest. Crazy, I know. But I think it might be the wake-up call that our culture needs.

We have become so used to living in excess, so accustomed to ditching what we already have in favor of something bigger and better. This especially applies to material possessions but also to personal relationships as well. Spouses have extramarital affairs, young adults move far from home in search of "freedom," friendships are severed at the slightest argument...

But what happens when all of that bigger-and-better excess goes away? All we're left with is our personal relationships. And I'm willing to bet that at that point, we will handle our only valuable possessions—our loved ones—with the utmost care. We Americans just might learn how to treat each other again.

Imagine if you and everyone you love had to live in the same house, working together and combining your resources, in order to survive. This sounds fun to me. It sounds enriching and inspiring. It's the way things should be anyway, but we've fallen away from it. And while I honestly do hope that a depression never ever occurs, I'm just saying that if it does, we might experience love in a way that we never have before.

And I'll take that over a pimped-out retirement any day.

Oprah Who?

The theme of this month's issue of O, The Oprah Magazine is love. Which is ironic for me because it was the first time I've ever read that magazine. I'm actually not much of an Oprah fan at all. But my boss (who doesn't even know about this blog, for no reason other than I haven't told her about it) randomly handed me this month's issue. So I read it, and I was pleasantly surprised to see that the theme was all about a subject I happened to be obsessed with.

The feature well consists of a collection of essays written by "thirteen gifted writers," most of whom have published a book at some point. Book writers are different from magazine writers in that their writing tends to be more emotional. So to have emotional book writers writing about the most emotional experience of all—love—was a brilliant move on the part of the O editors. (Seriously though, naming a magazine after your first initial? Could you BE any more vain? Sorry. But seriously.)

Anyway, check out the articles when you get a chance. Be warned, some of them are vague and metaphoric and, you know, Oprahfied. But each essay's approach on the theme is completely different from the other, and what I like about it is that they're not all about romantic love. One writer even talks about her love for a cat. Cats aren't really my thing (sorry cat people!), but the essay was so well-written that even I started to love the darn cat after awhile.

But my favorite article is one called "Does it Have to be Work?" by James Collins. He talks about how he and many people tend to focus on how difficult it is to be in a relationship, how everyone says it's "hard work." So his relationships have suffered because he goes into it with that mentality. But his essay concludes with a plea to bring joy back into relationships, like it was supposed to be. Somewhere along the way, our culture has lost sight of that joyful mentality. It's an interesting concept that will make you ponder. And I love to ponder, don't you?

I would like to think this is the last post in which I will endorse Oprah. But you never know. If I were writing this blog when Tom Cruise jumped on Oprah's couch in enthusiasm for Katie Holmes, I sooooo would have been all over that. So if something like that happens on her show again, yeah, I'm there.

Until then, I just might have to get a cat.

Getting Over It

I received a comment on yesterday's post that raised an interesting topic of discussion for me. The commenter stated that he/she was tired of me unloading my baggage, that I should move on and write instead about my future Romeo. I'm not knocking this person's opinion completely, because I do admit that I tend to be a bit of a Debbie Downer on this blog.

However, I firmly believe that the only way I can look brightly toward my future is if I deal with what has happened in my past. Paris is not someone that I can just forget about at the snap of my fingers. I was fully prepared to marry the man, after all. He was to be my husband. So the damage that was done had way more of an impact on me than it would have had he been just another jerk boyfriend.

After I broke off my engagement, I began to look at every single relationship around me and doom it to failure. I questioned whether or not people were really happy or if they were hiding behind a front like I had been. When I'd hear that a couple had gotten engaged, I assumed that one or both of them wanted to get out of it. These are not healthy perceptions! And I knew that if I continued thinking that way, then I would never find the nurturing, fulfilling kind of love I've always wanted. And that is why I decided to start writing about it.

I've only had this blog for a few weeks, and already I have grown leaps and bounds in my attitude about love. It's been as therapeutic as professional counseling—and a lot less expensive. Plus, having an audience to cheer me on is an added bonus! 

Writing about my past has brought to the surface some of the vital details I had buried. It's also forced me to really evaluate some of the mistakes I've made. In turn, I am now able to sift through my past, take only the nuggets that will enrich my future, and leave the rest behind. 

And that is where Debbie Downer exits and Suzy Sunshine enters. True love and peace will be in my future, I can feel it. In the meantime, I thank you all for reading my heart on a page. It's helped me more than you know.

Unpacking my Baggage, Part 5

Exactly one year ago today, I got engaged.

We were having a good couple of weeks, Paris and I. Our fighting had diminished, and he romanced me in a way that almost made me forget about all of our previous battles. So when he proposed, I eagerly said yes. In the midst of the celebration, Paris and I exchanged an emotional pact that we would put the hard times behind us and let goodness prevail.

Not three days later, the goodness was gone.

Several people told me that the engagement period can be "challenging." I think those people were referring to the struggles couples face when they want different things for their wedding, or they can't decide on a place to live, or even serious things like how to raise children. I'm sure they weren't talking about full-out character defamation, which was the "challenging" issue I was facing. At first, I desperately transferred my friends' everybody-goes-through-it advice to my own tumultuous relationship with Paris. I repeatedly told myself that this is normal, just a bump in the road—the same things I had been telling myself for the majority of our relationship.

I prefer to keep the specific details private, but I do have a little something to say...

I think that we too often dispense and receive advice that no one's perfect, every couple has problems, don't expect too much of your mate. And I agree with all of these things. I've said them myself. However, if you are in a relationship that makes you ashamed to look at yourself, that makes you cry multiple times a day, where the problems never go away but only build with momentum... a relationship in which the picture of your future is one where you are literally and figuratively silent and huddled up in the corner... GET OUT OF IT. Don't keep making the no one's perfect excuse, don't tell yourself that every couple has problems, don't give him or her the benefit of the doubt. 

Just get out.

I came to that realization pretty late in my relationship with Paris, but not too late. About three weeks into the engagement, I finally came to my senses that this could be dangerous business here. Yet I had so brainwashed myself into believing that maybe it wasn't as big of a deal as I thought, that maybe I was just being a drama queen. In turn, indecisiveness nagged at me like a disapproving mother. 

So I asked God for a sign. Now, I don't normally do that. I think asking God for "a sign" is trite, selfish, and it belittles what God is truly capable of. However, in this case, I got on my knees in complete despair, because I did not know What. To. Do. Essentially, by asking God for a sign I really was asking for help.

And one night, my sign came, clear as crystal. And along with it came an almost apathetic confidence that pushed my indecisiveness aside so that I could DO THIS.

So, in the middle of the night, I scooped up Julietta, and we fled far, far away from Paris.

All in the name of science, people.

Alas. 

Why on earth, you ask, am I saying "alas"?

Well, because the Scarcity Myth Experiment (SME) has come to an end. It's been a fun three weeks. I've spanned the greater area, looking at attractive men, flashing them smiles and shouting out hello's. I've scouted public places in search of my next SME subject, sometimes to my dismay and other times in jubilation at the large number of options available. 

But... alas. It is over.

Today was the last day of SME and I wanted to go out with a bang. So of course, I went to the gym. (I find I do my best work there.) And once again, there were plenty of attractive men strutting their stuff around the gym. But the one I was most intrigued with was the guy who was working in the childcare room. He had dark hair, dark eyes, a smile that could melt gold, and, oh yeah, HE WAS PROTECTING MY CHILD. Does it get any better? 

When I dropped Julietta off at the room, the guy flashed that brilliant smile at me and said hello. I think he may have been familiar with SME, because that right there was by the book. I returned a shy hello and went on my way. 

But when I came back from my workout to pick up Julietta, SHE WASN'T THERE. I panicked. The other girl who was supposed to be watching the kids was looking around the room as if Julietta were hiding or something. I gave my guy a look of desperation, and he swooped in, all knight-and-shining-armorish, and calmly said, "Oh, don't worry. She's just using the restroom." Smile. He then proceeded to tell me how adorable my daughter is. I wanted to marry him, right there in that room filled with Legos and Barbie dolls.

Sure enough, Julietta came out of the restroom safe and sound, and it was time for me and my knight to part ways. I gathered all of the confident composure I could muster, looked him directly in the eye, smiled, and said, "See ya." 

Now THAT is a happy ending to the silliest experiment I've ever conducted in my entire life.

A Day with the 'Rents

This weekend, my mom and dad came over to my house. The cool thing about my parents is, even though they're divorced, they're still friends with each other. The whole family still gets together often, and every time, Mom and Dad are perfectly respectful of each other and act as if they might even enjoy each other's company. While I'm sad that they are no longer married, I am so grateful that they have made the best of the situation. It would be easy for them to hold grudges, but instead they have practiced maturity and forgiveness. I really admire both of them for that.

On Saturday, Mom and Dad helped me put up all of my wall hangings. I recently moved to a new place and I hadn't yet decorated it, so on this day we practiced teamwork to get the place looking nice and cozy.

And the whole time, I felt guilty. I figured this activity could not possibly be enjoyable for them and surely they had better things to do. But here they were, helping me for the millionth time in my life. Why couldn't I just hang the stupid things myself? Why am I, in my late twenties, still eagerly accepting my parents' help?

But when it appeared our job was finished, and I told Mom that there was nothing else to hang, she said, "Darn! This is fun!" I laughed, first of all because my mother said the word "darn," and also because all that time I was feeling guilty, and they were actually having fun!

Later I was in my room and I heard my parents fussing with one of my windows, which was having difficulty closing. They were intent on fixing it, and they worked together—pushing and pulling on the window—to make it happen. 

And I started to cry.

Here were my divorced parents, putting aside their differences to help make my home as livable as it could be. They were doing physical labor, essentially, even after their original task was done, all to ensure that their little girl was safe and warm and happy. In my mind, they would be much better off doing anything else, but in their minds, hanging my pictures and fixing my windows was exactly what they wanted to do.

I couldn't imagine loving someone so much. It may sound like no big deal but in that moment it meant everything to me. On that day, like so many other days, my parents gave me a glimpse of what sacrificial love is supposed to look like. They put aside their own interests and time schedules, because to them, helping me was far more important than their own interests and time schedules. 

I don't think I've ever been that selfless. 

And it was then that I realized that this is love in its purest form... complete and utter selflessness. I also realized that this is what has been missing from almost every relationship I've ever been in. I've always been a receiver, and not enough of a giver. So that day, standing in my room, I made a silent promise to myself that I would strive to express sacrificial love, not only in my next romantic relationship, but also with my family and my friends and of course my darling little Julietta. And it is my hope that, like my parents, I will enjoy every minute of it.

Kissing Frogs

Last night I went to a Carrie Underwood concert. I found that I can really relate to Carrie. Except for the whole hot-blonde-superstar thing. But she and I seem to have a similar track record regarding the kinds of men we date. Except for the whole hot-famous-athlete thing. (Speaking of... a very reliable source told me that Carrie is NOT dating Michael Phelps like everyone is saying. Rather she has been seeing some Travis guy from The Bachelor. Apparently he was at the concert last night but I didn't see him. I know you were all losing sleep at night, thinking about Carrie Underwood's love life. I'm happy to be of service.)

Carrie has a song that best explains this track record that she and I share. It's called "The More Boys I Meet" and it comically expresses the frustrations of dating one dud after another. 

Here are the lyrics:

This boy here wants to move too fast
He sees my future as having a past
Well, I don't think so
I don't think so

That guy there, well he's playing a fool
He thinks he's funny and he thinks he's cool
We'll I don't think so
I don't think so

Cheap date, bad taste, another night gone to waste
Talking about nothing in so many words
It's not like I'm not trying
'Cause I'll give anyone a shot once

And, I , I close my eyes
And, I kiss that frog
Each time finding
The more boys I meet the more I love my dog

Here's this guy, thinks he's bad to the bone
He wants to pick me up and take me home
Well, I don't think so
I don't think so

Cage fights, PlayStation, X-Games, Raider Nation
Oversize pants with an ego to match
It's not like I'm not trying
'Cause I'll give anyone a shot once

And, I , I close my eyes
And, I kiss that frog
Each time finding
The more boys I meet the more I love my dog

Why can't they be like the ones that mean everything to me
The warm and loyal, open and friendly
It's not like I'm not trying
'Cause I'll give anyone a shot once

I close my eyes
And, I kiss that frog
Each time finding
The more boys I meet the more I love my

I close my eyes
And, I kiss that frog
Each time finding
The more boys I meet the more I love my dog

The more I love my dog

I hear ya, Carrie. You and I are on the same page. Except for the whole I-love-my-dog thing. Don't even have a dog. But I'm working on that. Right after I get a multimillion-dollar record deal and an Olympiad boyfriend.

My Hero & Heroine: Jamie and Kathy

Ever since my parents threw me for a loop with their divorce, I long to talk to couples who seem to have a strong, happy marriage. And when I get this opportunity, I ask a lot of questions—every time holding my breath in hopes that my perception about them is, in fact, the reality. After all, for twenty-plus years I had thought that my parents had a good marriage, but I was wrong about that. And now I have this fear that my "radar" is off, which brings all kinds of paranoia and insecurity about the covenant of marriage. But by talking to so many couples, I've been pleasantly surprised by the number of good marriages that are out there.

So I decided to ask my questions in a public format, on this blog. It is my hope that everyone can garner some affirmation from these amazing couples like I have. We shall see.  

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My first Hero & Heroine couple is Kathy and Jamie (James), who I've known for five years. Kathy is one of my dearest friends and mentors, and if I were Jamie, I would have married her too. She is THAT AWESOME. Jamie is just chill. Laid back and always smiling but will fight tooth and nail to protect his wife and family. K&J have two kids, ages 13 and 15, who are involved in just about every extracurricular activity imaginable. There is a lot of running to and fro and juggling of everyone's schedules. And yet, Kathy and Jamie are close as ever. They call each other often throughout the day, he sends her flowers just because, they laugh a lot, and they've been going strong for 19 years.

But they can tell their story better than I can, so here you go.

When and how did you meet?
Kathy: We were both in the same chemistry research group in graduate school at the University of Iowa.

How was this relationship (pre-marriage) different from the ones that came before it?
Jamie: This question is impossible to answer in this format. It would take an epic novel. 

Kathy: We were “just friends” for about 6 months before we started officially dating. But it was the extreme—and totally unexpected—“chemistry” that finally got the best of us! I think that the “friendship + chemistry” was a new equation for us both.

How did you know you wanted to marry each other?
J: I knew right away. I had a feeling of destiny fulfillment.
K: I think that from the time we started dating, it was just inevitable. We were very compatible people in a very passionate relationship; we were both ready to commit, and I don’t think we could imagine a future scenario where we weren’t together. It was just a natural evolution of our relationship.

What was your toughest year and why?
K: We have been very blessed in our lives together, but the hardest time was probably the first year of being parents. We had just moved to a new city, got very little sleep, didn’t have a lot of money, and didn’t have any family close enough to help us out.

How did you get through that difficult time?
K: We didn’t turn on each other, we turned to each other. And I think our relationship got stronger, because we gained a new respect for each other’s strength and ability to handle stress. We saw a whole new side of each other. And, of course, we had a lot of pride in our children, which made it all worth it.

How do you handle conflict with each other?
J: We rarely have any conflicts.
K: We don’t really “fight,” because I can’t get angry without crying, so I’m pretty sure that he just puts up with all of my crap and that’s that. It’s possible that it’s not the healthiest way to deal with issues . . . but it sure works for me!

In what ways has your relationship improved over the years?
K: I think that as we get older, we have more perspective and wisdom than we did when we were younger, so we don’t seem to stress as much about things over which we have no control, like social and family issues. We’re more confident as individuals, so our time together is more serene and focused.

With your busy schedules, how do you fit in Kathy-and-Jamie time?
K: Frankly, for the most part, we don’t. I’ve heard all the “relationship advice” about going on dates once a week, but it doesn’t happen. When the kids were little, we rarely had any opportunities to “get away,” and now that they’re old enough to leave alone, we don’t really feel the need to “get away.” We kinda like hanging out with them, and I don’t think we’ll regret all the time we’ve spent together as a family. We know that these days will be gone in the blink of an eye. Going to church is like a date for us, because we actually sit in close proximity to each other for a whole hour at a time! It’s almost embarrassing sometimes…

J: Sometimes it seems that our time is only a shared smile from afar but that's enough to keep me going.

How do you think your relationship might change when the kids leave the house?
J: I am looking forward to those days when we can just do things together spontaneously without worrying about the activity schedule.

Which celebrity couple do you resemble most?
K: Don’t laugh, but I’d have to say Morticia and Gomez Addams from the Addams Family movies... very passionate and playful.

Do you have any advice for young married couples (or soon-to-be-married couples)?
J: Be patient. When you find the right person you will know it. It's definitely worth the wait.
K: Remember to always treat each other with the respect and tolerance that you would give a best friend. Accordingly, don’t have irrational expectations of perfection—because you don’t want the same to be expected of you! Just have fun and love each other. Life goes by too quickly to be miserable.

Thank you, K&J, for sharing your real-life recipe for a successful marriage that has been such a blessing for me to witness. I love you crazy kids. And hey... no hanky panky in those church pews, alright?  

-JS

Chris Farley would've been so disappointed

Today was the first real day that I could participate in the third-week assignment of SME. This is because on Monday and Tuesday, I did nothing but go to work and then come home. I bet you're wondering how I could possibly be single with such an active social life.

But today I went to the gym. All kinds of options at the gym, ladies, is all I'm sayin'. If you're not motivated to exercise by the idea of losing weight or anything like that, perhaps a little eye candy will kick you into gear. IT'S WORTH A SHOT.

So anyway... SME. Today's opportunity presented itself quite easily, actually, because the guy looked at me first and smiled! Made. My. Day. But then I was like, oh yeah, I need to say something to him! And I was THIS CLOSE to saying "Which way to the weight room?" like I joked about in an earlier post. (Side Note: It's starting to freak me out a little that I'll say something on this blog and then later it kind of comes true. So please take note that I am sarcastically joking that I'll win a million dollars and a villa in Italy.)

Back to the guy at the gym. I panicked a little and therefore opted for the oh-so-safe "Do you know where I can get a towel?" He pointed his muscular arm in the direction of the front desk, I thanked him, flashed him another smile, and well, that's about it. I walked away hitting myself for not asking the whereabouts of the weight room after all.

Any other Scarcity Myth experimenters out there? I want to know if it's been as much of a whopping success for you as it's been for me. Holla back.