YOU WANT THE GOOD NEWS OR NOT SO GOOD NEWS FIRST?

Long time no blog! I'll just get to it.

I was minding my own beeswax when a friend called to say she had the perfect man for me. I was instantly excited after hearing her sales pitch. Healthy, in-shape, outdoorsy, family-oriented, dog-lover, good-looking, an officer of the law (employed is good). So I gave her the green light to pass along my digits to this perfect man (for me). 

He texted right away to schedule a time when we could talk, and topped it off with some dry wit. I was pumped. 

We talked. We texted. We laughed A LOT. We planned a date. 

The day before the date I received a text, "You want the good news or not so good news first?" 

This ain't my first rodeo so I knew exactly what was about to happen. My heart sank. So I responded, "Hit me." 

"Well, the not so good news is that I won't be able to meet up (ugh). I forgot about this tuxedo fitting I have at 6pm; you see I'm in a friend's wedding in June (uh-huh), and my professor forgot to tell us that we have a test on Friday (mm-hmm) because he can't get his head out of his ass (I bet), and since I have that tuxedo fitting (which takes all of 10 minutes) and a test (three days from now) I won't be able to make it. But the good news is that I'd like to make it up to you!"

Wait. It gets better.

"I'm done with school in just 3-1/2 weeks!"

I pictured myself in a period drama with a chalky face and velvet hoop skirt, throwing my body onto the lush grass, fanning my cleavage with a handkerchief, "Oh what ever will I do with myself!?" I was floored. He wanted me to wait 3-1/2 weeks? For a first date? I told him that he must be some catch to ask me to wait that long for a date. He LOLed.

Unfortunately, that wasn't the end of it; though it should have been (please refer to my post YOUR GUT'S NOT TRYING TO BANG YOU). I took friendly advice, tried to empathize with his situation and I gave him another chance. We texted and chatted a bit here and there until I realized that this guy was full of lame excuses. He was just "soooo busy" and he "just had nooo time to meet up." I mean, he "hasn't even seen his family in days!" The thing is, even the president has time for coffee. If he wanted to meet up with me, he would have.

So I finally accepted what my gut had been trying to tell me all along, which is that Officer Busypants had no intention of ever meeting up with me for whatever reason (if this dude ever reads this he should see my post ANY PORT IN A STORM). It’s all good. I dodged a bullet. 

So ladies, there's another one for the books.

BETTY CROCKER KNEW HER SHIT

Hey there, ladies...It's been a while! I've been busy enjoying life. Filling my days with work, volunteering, wining, dining, friends, friends' kids, and the like. I've honestly never felt more comfortable in my own skin. And I've never been this content. This, ladies is when the guys come a callin', am I right?


Now instead of assholes, liars and unemployed ex-girlfriend cohabiters, I am dating intelligent, hot guys with morals and jobs. It's great fun, I don't have to tell you that.


But I'm noticing, now that I have my ducks in a row, guys want to grab onto my line of ducks and marry it. Yesterday. Are you finding this, ladies? Once we are over our heart ache and bitterness, and become content with single-hood, guys want to move from date number one to "this is my girlfriend, (insert your name here)." I'm living proof of the "once you stop looking..." phenomenon. That's wonderful news for us, right ladies? Well, no. I know a lot of you will agree with me when I say I am looking for a happy medium. Personally, after all the bad-egg drama, I am now a firm believer in "getting to know someone" before giving them my heart. I'm not much into jumping with my eyes closed. The only thing that gets you is broken body parts.


In my opinion, the getting-to-know-someone is the best part of the relationship! It's an exploration of a person's depth. I love exploring. And I think it's the only path to true love. A cake that you make from scratch, from an old family recipe, fresh out of the oven, tastes much better than one you'd buy at Giant Eagle with the horrible frosting-flowers in colors that rarely go well together, made by some kid who's home from college trying to earn some drinking money. If you don't know all the ingredients that went into making your delicious treat, then you can't fully enjoy it. "Cardamom? Really? Wow, that's impressive. Yes, now I can taste it. It's what gives my little treat such warmth and depth."


For me, it's not just the end result, it's the process. The careful measuring, the slow mixing with a wooden spoon, the right amount of cooling time before frosting. That's what makes it good.


Some guys wants to skip right over all the work, grab a fork and dig right in. What fun is that??? 


I want someone to get to know me. My ins and outs. I want a guy to want to learn all about me, to figure out what ingredient made me a little spicy and why I'm not as light and fluffy as I should be. And I want to know all of his ingredients, too. I don't just want to be frosted and eaten. Side note: Please don't think I just referenced a cheesy Matthew McConaughey movie. I hate Matthew McConaughey movies. Although I'd eat the shit out of that cake. Anyway. 


Do you ladies agree with me? Are you also Betty-Crockering your way to love? Or are you happy to eat that day-old, dollar-off, display-case cake?

SAVE THE DRAMA FOR YOUR MAMA

Here's one for the single boys. A math lesson.

Let’s say I meet a boy. We’ll call him Boy A. And I’ll refer to myself as Girl A.

Boy A and Girl A chat on the phone for about an hour. Thirty minutes into the chat, Girl A hears something that sends up a red flag. We’ll call that X.

X = No steady job.

Then after a few more minutes, Boy A says something that is an absolute deal breaker for Girl A. We’ll call this Y.

Y = Lives with an ex-girlfriend.

So Boy A and Girl A end the conversation. Let’s say Boy A takes a stab at asking Girl A out via text the next day. And let’s say Girl A tells him politely that the factors stated in the phone chat were things that were not going to work for her. So Boy A and Girl A decide to be friends.

X + Y = Just friends.

Problem solved, right?

Wrong.

Boy A decides to make the problem a bit more complicated. He adds an unnecessary variable to the equation by informing Girl A of a crazy lady who seems to have misread his signals. We’ll call her Girl B. Girl B, he says, emails, texts and calls him relentlessly. Girl B is possessive and jealous, he says. Boy A states that Girl B was informed of Girl A and isn’t very happy about it.

Boy A + Girl B = Drama.

OK, now it’s time for a Pop Quiz!

If X + Y = Just friends, then (X + Y) x (Boy A + Girl B) = Landing a date with Girl A. True or False?

Well if you're like Boy A you’d pick True. And you’d get an "F." I’d encourage you to read my post, “Polishing Turds.” Then I’d steer you away from using the “poor me” tactic or the “I’m single because I only attract crazy ladies” routine to get girls. 

But if you're a single gal like myself, you most likely picked False. Because you've probably been there and are just as sick of it as I am. You get a gold star.

Save the drama for your mama, boys!

PEARL NECKLACES AND GENDER DIFFERENCES

So, now that Valentine's Day is over, I want to hear what your man did to piss off yesterday. 


Negative much? Yes. But it is what it is. Guys don't get it and they never will. I don't blame them. Valentine's Day is a bunch of baloney. But it's on the calendar, boys. Sorry, nothing we can do about it now! 


I know a lot of you had a wonderful, romance- and sex-filled holiday, but for the rest of you, give it to me, spill the beans! I want to hear about the Russell Stover box of "chocolates" he got you. Or the  teddy bear he grabbed on his trip to CVS to stock up on condoms and cigarettes. Or the "One Free Blow Job" construction paper coupon he made you.


Let's hear it, gals. I know there are some great stories out there! Don't be embarrassed! We've all been there. And it doesn't make him a bad guy. It just makes him a guy. I know you were disappointed but don't hold it against him. Use this blog to vent. We can all laugh about it then move on. He'll make up for it at Easter.

VENUS AND MARS SHOULD HAVE USED A CONDOM

So it's Valentine's Day! Even though I am single, I try not to be one of those anti-Valentines. I love watching my co-workers' husbands send them roses. I love seeing all the lovey-dovey facebook posts between couples. I favor sappy music on this day. I even wore red.

I know that fighting off the urge to wear black and mulch your co-worker’s roses in the blender can be tough for some of us on Valentine’s Day. But I really try to focus on the positive. It gives me a good feeling inside to know that all around me, there is love. 

And then the inevitable happens. That chunky little flying cherub finishes making his rounds spreading the love, and decides to pay me a visit.

"Hi, Jen. It's been a while. How have you been?"

I tell him I've been well, keeping busy, focusing on myself, blah blah blah.

Since Cupid's business is selling love, he's not buying it. And he sharply reminds me that no one is sending me flowers or cutesy-putesy emails today. That I won't be going home to open arms and a candlelit house. I'm going home to a smelly Beagle, a whiney cat and a lot of freelance work. He points out that I don't quite fill out my red sweater and my dress pants give me diaper butt.

"I know, cupid. But I've been putting myself out there. I’ve been trying, really, I have."

He slaps me with his bow, "You're not trying hard enough! What's with the hair? And you could have at least worn a little mascara today."

That’s when the switch flips. I grab the arrow out of his grubby mitts and stick it into the meaty part of his fat little ass.

"Go away, you wicked little imp. Everyone knows you're full of shit anyway."

Happy Valentine's Day, everyone!

WELL, SHUT MY MOUTH!

So I know I've been quiet lately. That is only because my love life is so pathetic that I don't even have BAD dating experiences to write about! Not a lot of eligible bachelors out there. I'd say for every single normal guy there are 20 single normal gals chasing after him. For a woman, dating in Erie can be compared to a pee-wee soccer game. Every kid focused on that one ball, pushing and shoving each other to get at it, not worried about strategy. So ladies, if you can find me a date with a cute, smart, funny guy who isn't married, I'll take you up on it! Then maybe, just maybe, I'll have something to write about. But let's hope that instead, I'll have something to write home about.

ANY PORT IN A STORM

"In times of danger, any shelter is better than none. In an emergency, we have to accept whatever solution presents itself (for the time being)."


Ok this makes sense when you're on a ship. But when you are out there dating, it is not a good idiom to follow. There are two kinds of storm-porting I would like to address. 


The first being the most common: Using someone to fulfill a sexual need. We all know that people use other people for sex, no need to rehash that subject. 


The second type is emotional. Using someone to fill an emotional emptiness. People need people. And when you are going through a life storm, or a funk, or a job change, or boredom, etc., you want someone to be there for you. When you are sailing through life solo, you have no one to go home to. No one to call after work. No one to cushion the blows. No one to help you see the lighter side of a situation. No one to share a life with, no one to make you feel wanted and/or needed. Trust me, it sucks when you laugh at something funny on tv and realize that you're talking to yourself. Loneliness alone can force people to head for a port, any port! 


I've been the port. And I've been the ship. Neither produced a husband. 


When you're feeling lonely, it is so easy to just give in and hang out with/date/have some fun with/screw that person who makes himself available to you. And when you're desperate to find love it's just as easy to hang out with/date/have some fun with/screw that person who habitually makes himself unavailable. But it's wrong. If he is not the one, you know it. Deep down you know it.


And if you're the ship, most likely you're stringing along that "nice" guy because you didn't want to show up to your work party alone again this year. He's that guy with the good job, great family, who treats you like a queen, but when people ask you, "Ooooooh so how's it going with Mr. Good On Paper," you shrug your shoulders and say, "It's good," bothered that this Noserella interrupted your daily horoscope reading. And you're probably planning on dumping him right after the work thingy. But then there's the holidays and who the fuck wants to go that alone!? So maybe after the New Year. Who knows, right? We'll just see what happens. Bad girl! This "port" has feelings. You're going to hurt him...badly. He's picking out your diamond and thinks the 311 remake of "Love Song" would be perfect for your first dance. It's not right. End it. Let him go find a girl who also thinks that song is perfect and burns him a cd of it for Sweetest Day. You can call your mom after work.


If you're the port, you're probably waiting by the phone for him to call you as we speak. While checking your email and creeping his facebook page. He probably keeps you guessing, and you make excuses for it, telling people you like the chase. We're on to you, sister! You hate that he breaks plans and leaves you to attend functions alone and has you buying a killer outfit you can't afford for the next "date" he may or may not take you on. He's the ship. And you know he's got a storm brewing in his life right now. Whatever it is...family, money, health, boredom...you know he's on choppy water. But you think if you let him dock there with you, he'll eventually want to winterize that shit and stay forever. Not a chance. The second that storm clears, he's out and you know it. So do the right thing. Send him off and wish him luck. Keep the dock open for that perfect ship.


So ladies...are you a port? Are you a ship? Have you been either in the past? Or are you the storm!? Give it to me!