The Bachelor, Week 2

Tonight I had the pleasure of watching The Bachelor with some new friends, after I ate two helpings of lasagna and garlic bread. And a cupcake. Good food, good friends, and a trashy TV show... all on a Monday night. Does it get any better than that?

Tonight's episode was juicy as ever, and it was SO AWESOME watching it with other fellow female cynics. All throughout the episode we'd shout out exclamations like, "Yeah, right!" or "He's soooo not into you," or "You're goin' home, girl!" It was trash-talking at its best. We sounded just like the very catty contestants we were making fun of—only we were wearing jeans and sweatshirts instead of bikinis and evening gowns.

The super-duper clean-cut bachelor Jason had to juggle his time between 15 bachelorettes tonight, and he made out with about 13 of them. He went on two one-on-one dates, and a big group date with about six or seven others. I honestly felt bad for the bachelorettes who didn't get selected for either of those scenarios. You could see the dejection on their faces, and throughout the rest of the episode they desperately clamored to win Jason's affection. One woman ("The Brazilian," we call her) even snuck into his limo as he was leaving, and I think she scared the crap out of him because he sent her home at the end of the episode. He also sent home a very quiet girl who is cute but not nearly as glamorous as the others, and that made me sad. You know she was going home because she wasn't pretty enough.

Ugh, can you imagine the scrutiny?

Moving on...

I want to talk a bit about how the women are handling the fact that Jason is a single dad. There are a couple of single moms on the show, and even though it's obvious they're not quite right for Jason, you can tell his heart goes out to them a little, because they have this huge thing in common. I'm curious to see how long he leads them on—er, I mean continues to get to know them better.

Most of the girls, however, seem to think that what Jason wants to hear (awkwardly placed in the middle of a random convo about shoes or something) is this: "I LOVE kids. I want to be a teacher. And during my summers off, I want to play with the kids that I teach during the school year! I have a niece and a nephew, and they think that I'm the greatest aunt EVER. Blah blah blah. Blah blah. Blah blah blah blah blah."

I don't know about Jason, but I can speak from my single-parenthood experience that this kind of talk—thought it may seem like an obvious way to win points—is in fact a huge turn-off. When a guy says these kinds of things to me, here's what I'm shouting in my head: "I don't want to hear about YOU. If you're trying to prove that you're ready to be in a relationship with a single mom, then the best thing you can do is ask me questions about my daughter. Ask me every question you can think of. Show interest in HER, don't brag about YOU. If you're so good with kids, I'll know it when you meet my child. You aren't going to prove it to me by telling me you take your nephew to the zoo once a month. Parenting is pretty much the most unselfish thing you're going to do. So if you're trying to tell me that you would make a good parent, don't be selfish by making it about you!"

I don't mean to come across so cynical, but this truly has been an honest indicator of which guys have been worth my time and which haven't. It makes sense, does it not?

Okay, I'm off my soapbox now.

It's still too early to tell what will happen on this goofy show, but I'm already hooked (these shows are like drugs), so I'll keep watching. Send me your thoughts if you saw tonight's episode!

The Bachelor, Week 1

I have a confession to make.

Tonight, I watched the season premiere of... ahem... The Bachelor.

I've always disliked that show, which I've written about before, but this time around I think I'm going to watch it. After all, I have something in common with this season's bachelor... we're both single parents.

A few years ago, my brother told me he thought I should go on The Bachelor, that I would be a perfect candidate. I didn't know if I should be flattered or insulted, based on the kind of women I've seen on that show! But my bro is a good guy, so I'm guessing he was being nice. I told him there are a number of reasons why I couldn't ever do it:

1. I hate the cattiness among women on that show, but I also know full well that I would probably get caught up in that, were I one of them. Ugh.
2. I like my men exclusive, thank you very much.
3. I know they'd make a big deal out of me being a single mom, and I wouldn't want to put Julietta in the spotlight like that.

So now, to see a single dad (a seemingly well-balanced single dad) on the show—first as a Bachelorette contestant and now as the lucky guy who gets to choose his lady—is admirable. And it also makes me curious as to how he's going to play that out.

The recap of tonight's episode is not all that interesting. Nearly every minute of it was embarrassing, mainly because of the way the women were drooling all over the guy. And there was a lot of eye makeup, hair flips, and the use of the word "like." And of course the cat fighting has already begun. I didn't even know it was possible for so many women to hate each other so much, in such a small amount of time.

Based on the irresistible preview of the coming weeks (this show is the MASTER of that, by the way), it looks like there will be all kinds of delicious twists and turns. So I look forward to seeing that unfold in its probably uninteresting truth, and writing about it. If you're going to be watching it too, feel free to share your thoughts!

To Be Real

Over the past couple of days, I've been reading The Velveteen Rabbit with Julietta. I'd forgotten how much symbolism that story offers.

There is one part of the story that is sometimes read at weddings. (In fact, my sister read it at my brother's wedding.) And that's because it is a great metaphor for true love—the kind that really does last forever, even when you're old and falling apart. It can also be a metaphor for true beauty, as well as maturity.

It's just one big metaphorical bundle of wisdom.

"What is Real?" asked the Rabbit one day... "Does it mean having things that buzz inside you and a stick-out handle?"

"Real isn't how you are made," said the Skin Horse. "It's a thing that happens to you. When a child loves you for a long, long time, not just to play with, but REALLY loves you, then you become Real."

"Does it hurt?" asked the Rabbit.

"Sometimes," said the Skin Horse, for he was always truthful. "When you are Real you don't mind being hurt."

"Does it happen all at once, like being wound up," he asked, "or bit by bit?"

"It doesn't happen all at once," said the Skin Horse. "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't often happen to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand... And once you are Real you can't become unreal again. It lasts for always."

Later on in the story, when Rabbit is declared Real by the boy who loves him, it reads: That night he was almost too happy to sleep, and so much love stirred in his little sawdust heart that it almost burst. And into his boot-button eyes, that had long ago lost their polish, there came a look of wisdom and beauty.

I don't know about you, but I want all of my hair to be loved off.

Honesty is the Best Policy? Part 2

I've been thinking about my honesty post all day, and I have some more things I want to talk about regarding this subject.

But first, one of the commenters on yesterday's post gave some very wise insight, along with this statement:

99% of the time telling the truth makes things easier... This number would be 100% if women avoided trap questions like "Does this dress make me look fat?" "Do I look fat" and making other comments about being fat or unattractive. Not that we're lying all the time, it's just a lot of pressure to put on a guy, you have to make sure you answer the question with the correct tone, timing, and eye contact.

The reason I call this out is because I have to ask... Ladies... are you really still asking the question "Does this make me look fat?" Because if you are, please stop. First of all, as the commenter noted, you're putting your man in a trap, whether you mean it or not. Even if his response to that question is a resounding "No," you're still going to wonder if he just said that to be nice or because it's the truth. So what's the point in even asking? Also, you know better than anyone else what really looks best on you. If you look in the mirror and are not happy with what you see, then change your clothes. And if you're happy and confident with how a particular outfit looks on you, then wear it with happiness and confidence! Give your man a break and stop asking him that question. Your intuition is much smarter than he is. (Sorry guys, but you know it's true.)

Okay, I'm off of my soapbox now. Kinda...

I now want to talk about dishonesty. Today at Julietta's cheerleading class I was chatting with one of the other cheerleading moms. This woman was young, fun and gregarious, but her eyes had the wear and tear of a rough life. I could tell just by looking at her that she's been through things I didn't even know were possible.

Sure enough, I was right.

We ended up talking about her ex-boyfriend, who happens to be the father of her child (who's in the same cheerleading class as Julietta. Ya follow?). The woman said that she was with this man for nine years—from age 19 to 28—and she didn't find out until the very end that the dude was MARRIED THE ENTIRE TIME. Not only was he married, but he had three other kids! And... AND!!!... he was living with her most of those years, and still managed to hide this secret from her!!

Now, since we're being honest, I will say that the inner cynic in me wondered if she was even telling the truth. This story just seems too bizarre to be real. I also wonder if she knew all along if something was fishy but was in denial or something. But let's just say that the story is true and she really had no clue. I wish I could meet the guy. Because, after giving him a good beating (kidding), I'd ask him about a million questions. Like how on earth did he keep that secret from her, of course. But also, is it really worth all of the hiding and sneaking to have a double life? For NINE YEARS??

I've never, ever understood the concept behind cheating. Not just cheating, but having a full-out affair while still staying in the original relationship. If a person is so unhappy that they're looking elsewhere, shouldn't they just end the first relationship? Is it really possible to love two people? Or is it all about having your cake and eating it too?

I've never cheated on anyone and I've never been cheated on (that I know of, anyway.) But I've seen some very dear friends get their lives torn apart by a cheating spouse, and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy. And I'm still confounded on how cheating even happens. I'm not trying to be self-righteous, I'm just saying that the concept of cheating is one that I simply cannot wrap my mind around. But maybe I'm being naive.

I'm not asking for feedback this time, unless you're willing to offer it. I just wanted to vent, in the aftermath of that poor woman's story. And while I have the platform, if any of you may be cheating or thinking about cheating... like I said to the women who are asking their men if they look fat... please, just stop.

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.

Unpacking my Baggage, Part 4

So it was when I finally gained some confidence that I met someone with whom a true relationship would form. This was my first real grown-up relationship. It also broke my nine-month record. When that happened I thought it'd be this grand moment for me, but by that point I realized that it didn't really matter as much as I had always thought.

(Note: I will be writing about this particular boyfriend periodically and, for the sake of confidentiality, I'll be referring to him as "Paris." This goes with the whole Romeo & Juliet theme. Paris, if you recall, was the man that Juliet was SUPPOSED to marry. That is, before Romeo came along to sweep her off her pretty little feet. Also, my daughter will heretofore be known as "Julietta." You know, like "little Juliet." Cute, right?)

I had actually known Paris for a long time but didn't know him well. We reunited at a friend's wedding, where the sparks started flying the moment we laid eyes on each other. In the months after we started dating, we would recall that night over and over again, how it was so obvious that fate had brought us together. There were so many signs, so many similarities between our individual thoughts and actions that night. I had never experienced that kind of connection with anyone before, and neither had he.

Our relationship was long-distance at first. We would talk on the phone for three hours a night, easily, and we'd see each other any time we possibly could. He made surprise visits often, which thrilled me. He also made me several mixed CDs with "our songs," and wrote elaborate emails about how much he loved me. He had an unprecedented passion for music, politics, food, adrenaline and me. And he was extremely good-looking. I was IN HEAVEN.

Paris was great with Julietta, and she was crazy about him. She was drawn to his endless supply of energy and enthusiasm. Sometimes I felt left out, watching the two of them have so much fun together. Yet at the same time I was grateful that I had found this seemingly perfect guy who loved my daughter and whom my daughter loved.

All that time that I'd been searching for the right man, I'd foolishly believed that, when it comes to Julietta, the guy just had to be someone who really cared about her. So when Paris had passed that test, I thought the coast was clear. However, I learned the hard way that a person can love my daughter till the day is long, but if he can't accept ALL of the nooks and crannies that come with our unconventional little family, chaos will ensue. 

Before I knew it, Paris and I were fighting almost every night. And they were not you-left-the-toilet-seat-up-again fights. I'm talking hard-core, earth-shattering, heartwrenching fights. The kind that would leave us more confused coming out of it than going in. The kind that never seemed to have a solution, no matter how desperately we tried to find one.

But we still loved each other with a passion, and we still believed that we were meant to be together. I think we were also stubbornly determined to make it work, whatever the cost. We were insistent on fitting that square peg into the round slot. 

So, what did we do?

We got engaged.

Unpacking my Baggage, Part 3

Many people have asked me what dating is like as a single mom, and I never really know what to tell them. In many ways, it doesn't seem to be all that different from regular-person dating. Of course, there are some things I am more aware of. I'm very careful about who I introduce my daughter to. I don't want her to get attached to every Tom, Dick and Harry who so much as looks at me. Also, there isn't a lot of room for spontaneity in my relationships, what with the whole childcare issue and everything. 

But the real question, I think, should be directed at the men who have dated me. I'm still surprised by guys' reactions when they find out that I'm a single mom. When I first had the baby, I guess I expected that men would run far away from me. And some did, of course, but most didn't. Most guys didn't act phased at all that I had a child. Some even thought it was cool. This was such a relief—and a shock—to me.

But usually, a switch would eventually take place. At first everything would be great, but when they learned the truth of what it really means to date a single mom, all hell would break loose.

It didn't help that I transformed from being a cool commitment-phobe to a clingy husband-hunter. Becoming a mother made me want so much more for my life. I learned how to love another human in a way I had never experienced before. And I wanted to transfer that over to my romantic relationships. I was so intent on having the other necessary component for a happy little nuclear family as I knew it, that it made me over-eager. 

Guys aren't all that crazy about the over-eager.

After about three years' worth of rejection and disappointment, I started to get my life together in every other area of my life (i.e. moving up in my career, moving out of my parents' house... you know, independent woman stuff). And in doing so, I finally gained the confidence I had been lacking when I was too busy forcing a cookie-cutter life upon my boyfriends.

It was at this point that I realized I didn't NEED a man, dangit.

And that is precisely when a man showed up.

Unpacking my Baggage, Part 2

I've been boy-crazy since I was, like, four. I don't know why. I guess it's just the way the good Lord made me. But whatever the reason, my affection for boys has dominated my life for pretty much all of my life.

I've had many boyfriends, my first being when I was in 5th grade. Since then, I've dated more guys than I can count. I used to think this was normal, going out with someone for two months or so and then simply moving to the next one. But then I got to college and realized that most of my peers had maybe only one or two boyfriends/girlfriends in their whole lifetime, and these relationships lasted for two, sometimes three, sometimes more years. 

This was a big wake-up call for me. I felt like I was missing out on something big. At that point in my life, I had never known what it was like to be in a relationship for longer than 9 months. So I became obsessed with breaking that record. Because otherwise, I feared, something must be seriously wrong with me. I also became obsessed with the length of other people's relationships. I wanted to know if there was anyone else out there like me, who operated by the "shorter is better" mentality. When I'd meet someone new (girl or guy), I'd ask how long their longest relationship was. Most responses ranged in the one-to-two-year range. Upon hearing that, every time, my disappointment was palpable.

After much soul-searching, I learned that the reason I wasn't experiencing this kind of commitment in my relationships is because all that time, I'd been looking for the "high" that I thought a boy/guy/man could bring me. And as some of you may know, a "high," by nature, always comes down. It never lasts forever. So when one high ended, I'd skip the scene and leave it clean, in search of my next "drug." 

There was one time when I was so in need of something exciting, something to bring me fulfillment, that I became careless. And, well, my carelessness resulted in something that would change my life forever. 

That's right, I got knocked up.

Having a child obviously changed my world. Better yet, it took my world by the feet, turned it upside down and shook it, until all of my preconceived notions about life and love were emptied out. Then, it gently flipped me right side up and slowly began filling my world again, with a whole new consciousness.

That's when my romantic relationships took a turn, and mostly for the worse. Stay tuned...