Potentially Fabulous

“What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger”

Well duh.

If you were dead in the water you wouldn’t be stronger…You’d be dead.
Kind of like dating.

If you can get through the jungle of booby traps and land mines- not to mention the ambush of wild, blood- thirsty animals hiding out in the shadows- you just might make it. (I think I’ve been reading too much of The Hunger Games).

Dozens of bad dates.
A handful of disappointments.
Shattered expectations of what it should/could/would be if only for ---blank---
And of course the occasional “WTF? Moment” that has only ONE redeeming quality:
It makes for a great Facebook post the next day.

We should have medals for this stuff. Where’s my bleeding Purple Heart? I’m fighting for the greater cause here!

On one of our more inspirational walks, E and I start on the topic of Sacrificial Dating. You know… the dates where you haven’t decided if you’re all that into it, but you feel you sort of have to go because you have to prove that you’re different than what they already think of you.

They’ve let on that they’ve “got you figured out.” For some reason or another they’ve come to a conclusion about you and it becomes your job to nullify their opinions. Nullify. Correct. Obliterate. Choose your weapon.

Females in nature (and women in their 20s & 30s) strut around putting on a pretty face, while they try to scope out Potential. THEN, they have to decide if this Potential falls into one of three categories:

A. Expiration Dating: (This person and/or opportunity will only be around for a short time, thus giving you an expiration date).
B. Limited Time Offer: (Too good to be true, but still good enough to consider it ‘worth the risk’).
C. Definite Potential: (ie Shave your legs).

A is dangerous, B is fun and C is HALLELUJAH I can sit down for a minute.

And C is a very good place to be. Everybody deserves to reach C, and SEE where it goes.

The irony of writing about dating and being single is that when you actually reach C and meet someone who sort of blows your expectations out of the water, you’re left with a kind of…umm…Writer’s Block?

But alas, blogs are meant to grow with us, and so we power through. And despite my most recent relationship status change (and perma-smile on my face), I promise not to harp on and on about rainbows and butterflies. I'm excited to see where this blog will go, and I'd like for you to stick with me. *And if I can swing it I'd like to secretly share funny anecdotes about him without him REALLY knowing because, after all, he's a devoted reader ;)

Repping the 99

Despite having majored in journalism and taking a minor in political science, I somehow find more joy in blogging about my personal life... versus yours. Interesting or sad?


Four years of homework, deadlines, essays and reading? We’ll go with interesting… it’s less sad.


Although the ‘flame’ for politics has simmered to now a mere spark since college, there will always be a little edge that I find fascinating about politics. Not so much the actual policies, but more about the people… and of course, the idea of being The One.

The idea that you don’t really have to win over the people, you just have to win them over more than the other guys. You don’t have to be the smartest, best looking, most educated candidate, you just have to be smarter and better looking than the Joe Schmoe next to you. It’s like the concept of being fast. You just have to be faster than the others to outrun the bear.

I’m going to try and say this without sounding too judgmental: But where I live, the Occupy Movement is a joke. Seriously. These folks have been sitting there for years; it’s just that now they have folding chairs and posters.

On the heels of a big election, and in the midst of this concept of “The 99%”- I came across this shirt and immediately knew it had blog potential.

If politicians want our vote, they need to make us feel special- make us feel like being in the 99% is just a figment of our imagination.

Kind of like dating.


If you’re one of those people that gets a little mushy in thinking about the idea of there being ONE person out there who’s sort of perfect for you- then dating is really just a means to an end.

It’s all a big gamble: Date until you find the person you’d like to share your nest with. Or for the guys: Someone you wouldn’t mind sharing your sandwich with.

"99% of everyone you date will not be right for you"

The idea of finding a person who after fifty-years, still makes you laugh, won’t judge you for deciding that at age eighty, you will eat ice cream every day because you can, and at the end of each day you don’t want to turn off your hearing aid to revel in silence.

So really… we’re all part of the 99%. We should all be rockin' the shirt. Even the fancy politicians sitting in their bathtubs full of money. Anyone dating, “browsing” or “online-shopping” is taking a gamble that 99% of every person they “try out” won’t make it to the finish line. For many of us, this may take a lifetime of several relationships and/or marriages…but it’s not to say that the 1% won’t come out of the woodwork eventually. People come in and out of your life for a reason.

Maybe they teach you something; maybe you teach them something. Perhaps they show you what forgiveness looks like; Maybe they bless you with the most beautiful child and then disappear because that's all they can give. Doesn't that make the 1% that much more worth it?

Heck, even the Bible talks about leaving the 99 sheep for the ONE that wandered away.
There’s just something about the potential.

I can see it now:

“Just Married” on the front
And “I am the 1%” on the back.

(Sounds like a cash cow to me)

Mountains vs Mole Hills

My mother is a very wise woman (along with being a crafty-glitter extraordinaire, an excellent cook and might I add...a loyal reader).

Over the years her advice, (mostly warranted- aside from Tropical Storm Julianne, aka the College Years) has never failed me:

*Laughing until you cry is not just fun, it's necessary*
*There are no limits when it comes to love and forgiveness;
-So don't try to box 'em up!*
*Once a man decides she's worth it; He will move mountains to get to her*

Mountains? BUT WAIT. What if the chivalrous knight with his stallion and heavy armor can't climb the treacherous mountains? What if the peaks are too high, or the slope too slippery?

Mountains my friends; It's all about the Mountains-
(...And sometimes the Benjamins)

*Side note: I understand that "Mountains" is a metaphor for something BIG. Something that shows devotion, trust and effort. But for the sake of this blog and it's attempt to find humor in the little things, I'm going to share my most recent experience trying to watch an average civilian boy attempt a "Mountain-ness moment..." aka, the Pick-Up Line.


Setting: Post 'Girls Night' dance party- Me outside waiting for my group.

Random: (attempt at small talk) So...what are you up to tonight?

Me: Headed home, going to bed. *MOUNTAIN*

Random: Alone? *Attempt to budge said MOUNTAIN*

Me: Yep, just waiting on my friends *MOUNTAIN grows twice in size *

Random: That's no fun. Want to go to bed with me instead? *Attempt to line MOUNTAIN with dynamite*

Me: Uhhh, no buddy. I don't sleep around. *MOUNTAIN grows a force field*
...In fact. I'm a happily married woman. See? (Zoom in on the fake ring I wore on the prized Ring Finger to scare off unexpected evil) *Ladies, don't lie and say you don't have one of these!*

Random: Wow. Congratulations. *MOUNTAIN too high. Abort mission*

Me: Thanks. BIG wedding in September, it was really quite beautiful!

Random: I bet. Wow... Lucky guy.

*MOUNTAIN turns on her heels, and sighs in relief: High- five on the Defense*


And as for Random, I'm sure he's a nice guy, with a nice family and even a nice dog who finds him mildly charming...but for crying out loud, take my advice:


1. Find your guts, look yourself in the mirror and promise that you'll find a nice girl someday and ask her out for a meal (NOT a remake of last Thursday's Jersey Shore episode).
And 2. Don't be goin' around mistakin' my MOUNTAIN for just some mole hill. You're bound to get shot 'round these parts!

The Valentine’s Day Miracle

Falling in love with the feeling of waking up slowly;
Having the kick-butt determination to hit the pavement and run;
And realizing that love sleeps at the foot of your bed.

It’s easy, as a single person, to give Valentine’s Day a hard time. But something about it this year…it just feels too easy. Like a cheap shot. Shut out game. Where’s the challenge?

Nothing is stopping us from actually enjoying the holiday from a chocolate induced coma. Why wait until November to realize what we’re thankful for? Shouldn’t every day spark something inside of us to say- “Hey. That’s kind of awesome.”

Here. I'll go first:
I’m thankful for the most fabulous group of friends I can think of. People ranging everywhere from childhood, to high school, to college and even kickball. All over the world. Far and wide: they’re never out of reach.

A friend of mine made a brave statement that will forever resonate with me:

“I’d rather be single with moments of loneliness-
Than in a miserable relationship, trying to find my way out.”

And haven’t we all been there? On the outside you have the makings and potential for greatness, but inside you know you’re settling with disappointment. Celebrating the single life can be as simple as patting yourself on the back for realizing you deserve greatness, and you're one step closer to finding it.

So here’s to you VDay- With your $16 billion dollar industry, overpriced chocolate and singing teddy bears that my dog will happily destroy...

Happy Valentine’s Day to my beautiful couples whose commitment continues to inspire me~

And Happy Galentine’s Day to the girls in my life who forever teach me what it means to be loved and how to show that in return.

Warning: Only Child Crossing

Question: Have you ever been on a first date and after telling the guy you're an only child, he wipes the terrified look off his face and says, "OH I've heard about you guys!"

I'm going to guess, "Probably not."

I've always found the idea of the "only child" very interesting. But lately, I've been a little more self-reflective on how it makes me who I am, both personally and in dating.

Ever heard of a man by the name of G. Stanley Hall?

Me neither.

Well apparently he had quite a bit to say back in the early 1900s regarding child development and psychology. Mr. Hall was a pioneer in American psychology and in my opinion, just an angry man who needed a blog. You see, Mr. Hall researched the traits and quirks of only children back in the day, and turns out, he wasn't a big fan. He actually referred to the group as "a disease in itself."

Sounds to me like Mr. Hall got dumped by a cute, blonde, only child in middle school. She ruined him for life.

I'm (obviously) an only child and despite having always felt somewhat 'in the dark' when it comes to the relationship between siblings, I've learned to make it work for me. Correction. I've learned to disguise the horrified look on my face in watching siblings bicker over toys, clothes, the bathroom, boys, etc.

Recently, I had an 'epiphany-like moment' wherein I realized that while I've made the most of this 'only child life' thing by having very close relationships with my friends and my parents, Mr. Hall might have a point. I of course don't see my life as being anything close to 'disease like,' but others might.

Others?

Men. Mr. Hall, in the 1900s, was referring to men.

And then my single self realized: Is it possible that the fate of my love life might be dangling on the fact that my parents chose "quality versus quantity?" (Their words, not mine). Could the behaviors that we learn as kids, but more specifically as only children, such as sharing, understanding personal space and balancing the attention of others make that much of a difference in the world of dating.

Being the product of a working, single mother (until I was seven) I was put in childcare at a very young age. I was thrown into a world where sharing was barter and easily making friends was a method for survival. Growing up, being an only child felt like some sort of secret society, now I just realize it's one big bullseye painted on my forehead. As a kid, people were jealous. You got your own bathroom and if you were lucky, didn't have to share the car. As an adult, it's quite a bit different. Former sibling rivalries are turning into loving, tight-knit relationships. All those years of conditioning, sharing, learning how to argue effectively and coping with criticism have finally paid off. Turns out, they're pretty lucky afterall.

Researching this topic has been really interesting: ranging everywhere from proving/debunking myths, understanding personality traits and analyzing relationships that are all product of these weird little creatures who, to the rest of the world, seem just a bit off. And as usual, the topic of dating has peeked my interest.

There are studies out there that prove your birth order can actually make or break the success of your realtionship. First born, middle child, youngest or only child. Everybody has a place in this world...some are just more compatible than others. According to this study, I am most compatible with the youngest male in a family with older sisters.

The male they've painted here sounds like a real gem. He seeks excitement and adventure in everything he does and most importantly, he understands women. He is drawn to the comfort of women and understands the importance of female empowerment. He sounds lovely. They should create a dating website based on birth order compatibility. Hmmm.

Naturally, I started thinking about my failed relationships. I've dated both a middle and the eldest, and both seem to have a commonality between them: How to put the "born" in stubborn. But it makes sense right? Kids with siblings HAVE to learn the language of criticism and teasing, how to argue, how to manipulate a situtation to get what they want...all things I've never quite gotten the hang of.

And then I realized it's true. Despite spending a chunk of my childhood in day care and therefore learning to share and haggle with others (because take it from me, they don't put up with sh*t in day care), and despite having had great female roommates from the ages of 18-24, I DO have to take into account that how I view relationships, space, fairness and attention come from an inherent characteristic of being an only child. And it's not just a matter of 'taking it into account', but also respecting the fact that there are certain things that will just come a little harder for me.

One day moving in with someone. Delegating. Sharing a closet, bathroom, money. Balancing my alone time. Sharing holidays. Sharing my family. It's very overwhelming.

And yet very intriguing...blog worthy even :)

***
For further reading:

While having only one child has never been considered much of a 'trend,' it's starting to gain speed in the Western cultures (and no, this is not a political blog looking to discuss the child-restriction laws in China, so don't even go there).
Time Magazine actually did an article recently on how more and more families are choosing to raise only one child due to the economic pressures our society faces. It's a good read: http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,2002530,00.html

If Bars could talk...

Meet Murphy.

A goofy Border Collie mix who is currently the love of my life. Sure Murphy has a few annoying traits such as his obsession with squeaky toys, barking at small children, and having to first, smell and second, pee on every tree, bush, blade of grass or morsel of sand. It's. Beyond. Annoying.


I had a venting session recently with a friend, "J" on one of the more frustrating walks--


I asked her to explain it to me. She's a smart girl..."What is it about some dogs that makes them so OCD on walks? I don't get it. What, in our human lives, could possibly compare to this!?"


J gave it a good long thought and finally said: "You know...I think it's like being in a bar, surrounded by a bunch of attractive, single guys who are all interested in you... And your friends want to leave."


I gasped. (Genius!) No wonder he gives me the stink eye every time I pull him away! I vowed then and there to be a little nicer on my end of the leash. Lookin' out for you kid. ;)


Bars are a funny place. I don't think sociologists give them enough credit. If they spent a little time in there, I bet they could pull out some serious analysis on male/female interaction.

After all...dating IS kind of a jungle.
It's like Animal Planet with your clothes on.

One bar in particular comes to mind, it's right around the corner from where I live. Actually, it's more of a "club" and it's the epitome of "the scene." Who's Who crowd, dress code, over priced
drinks, music so loud that you can feel Kanye pumping through your veins.

And the bathroom.

Their bathroom is hilarious. The sink area has two-way mirrors so as you look up from washing your hands, you see a dude there checking you out. It's a trip. (My personal favorite is waving to first-timers on the other side who haven't caught on. Priceless.)


Per the usual, the girl's line is ridiculously long, only to look over and see, what? TWO guys waiting on the other side? So unfair. So you bunker down and plan to set up camp for awhile...and it's prime time to people watch.


The front door bursts open and some shorty gets knocked in the head, ruining her perfect little bouffant. Girls are bustling in, holding hands, mowing people down and trying to team up in the stalls. The only thing slower than a girl going to the bathroom, is TWO girls sharing one stall.


And my favorite- the girl in front of me squawks "Ohhmygawd I would tooootally be a model but I'm only 5'7"! Her friends all nod in approval. Yes. If only you were 2 inches higher, you're modeling career would be through the roof. Our loss.


I look across only to see guys waiting in a single file line, exchanging small talk, texting on their phones, and trying to find a way to check us out without us noticing.


And I can't help but laugh! I'm always amazed to see the differences between men and women, especially in the bar setting. (* I understand that this is an over-generalization. Just go with it.)

Most men go to bars for the following reasons:
1. Hang out with their buddies
2. To get laid


Women however, have an array of reasons:
1. Hang out with their friends
2. Dance!
3. Get their 2 hours of dancing cardio in so they don't feel guilty for drinking
4. Rock a new outfit
5. See if their Ex is there
6. See what their Ex's new girlfriend is wearing
7. See if their Ex's new girlfriend's Ex is there
8. Get a new Facebook profile picture ("Check us in!!!")
9. Find a husband

Whew. Exhausted.

Back to the age old question...Are we crazy? Or is it obvious by now: Men make us crazy. Men are streamlined- to the point- get 'er done. While women are busy multi-tasking their emotions.

One of my favorites:

"Men are Waffles. Lines, boundaries, categories. Work goes into one square. Love in another. Women are Pancakes. All mixed into one big bowl. Family, love, work. It's all one big vat of batter."

When I meet God one day I'm going to ask him why he made us so inherently different. There must be a shortage of comedy clubs in Heaven because this material is a GOLD MINE!

Your Lawn or Mine?

Welcome! I'm officially a blah, blah, blogger because 1) Apparently, I feel that I have a lot to say, and that I've exhausted all other avenues of communication. And 2) When you're single you tend to have quite a bit of free time. Blogging is cheaper than traveling and less caloric than going out every night.

I have a lot (A LOT) of conversations with friends about the idea of being single: Is it natural? Is it a constant battle against a current of instinct (Mate. Nest. Pro-create). Is this simply an interim, or worse…punishment? Is the proverbial "grass" really that much greener on the other side, or is the lawn just better landscaped?

People who want in can't find the doorknob;
Those that want out can't find the fire escape.

At this point, I've accumulated a pretty big pile of opinions, gripes and ideologies.
I bet if the government wanted to tap into our thoughts they would be shocked (and bored) to find that the topic of relationships has the most "likes," hash-tags, re-posts and shares running rampant in the human psyche.

In one of the more recent venting sessions with a friend, we discussed the idea of women being considered "crazy." Got me thinking... Maybe we are. And maybe that whole ‘grass is greener’ thing has something to do with it.

Question: "Which came first? The grass or the grass seed? Reality vs. Expectations.”

It makes sense that they (men) think we (women) are crazy.
If you think about it...we grow UP crazy.
They MAKE us crazy.
We ARE crazy.

It all started when they taught us how to hold a baby doll as a toddler, and put the one who needs its' diaper changed underneath the Christmas tree. We dressed up like brides for Halloween and bought the stick-on nails that ended up coming off in our hair...but we didn't care because they were beautiful.

Nesting was fun. Pretend vacuuming was a game. Fixing fake, plastic meals in your tiny, plastic kitchen was just pure entertainment.

Little did we know they were planting tiny seeds of craziness. Then they put us in co-ed schools where we show up in pigtails and a dress only to get our hair pulled and our “Wednesday” undies exposed.

And the boys are mean! (And smell...) And they have cooties! (And smell...) Turns out they don't like us at all. So we learn to not like them either.

No boys allowed: Keep out. Hello craziness.

But KEN doesn't have cooties, Barbie would never allow him inside the Ferrari. And Prince Charming was nice to Cinderella. For crying out loud, even that grumpy dwarf was eventually nice to Snow White. (Granted, she did his laundry).

So why the disconnect? Why are the ones in front of us deemed “Pricks” and the ones we dream about, “Princes?”

And so the cycle begins. We plan it, synchronize it, dream it up and attempt to execute- only to find that we know absolutely, positively nothing about men, because, as it turns out, half the time we barely know ourselves.

Playing house in a plastic kitchen is missing one thing= a boy.

Dream wedding with the perfect dress is missing one thing= a man.

Turns out not much has changed.

***
A very wise friend said to me once: "Your 20s are for learning, while your 30s are for earning."
Learning: the act or process of acquiring knowledge or skill
Earning: to gain or get in return for one's labor or service

Or as I like to think of it “Acquiring the brains and skills to handle trials and tribulations in our 20's, will pay off as we sit and eat bon-bons in our 30's.”

Sounds like a pretty good patch of grass to me.