EGGS AGAIN?

I want to clear something up. A lot of you who're reading this blog may be thinking, "man this chick thinks pretty highly of herself!" Well, you're right. I do, but that's beside the point. 

I know that this blog is written in my favor. I know that my arguments seem one-sided; like I'm not taking any responsibility for my failed relationships. But that's not the case. I do know that relationships are two-sided. I know that I have done things wrong along the way, and some of those things may have played a part in the demise of my relationships. 

But what I want you all to know is that the guys I have been dating aren't your average, everyday "good eggs." Guys who are "good eggs" have morals and would never intentionally hurt anyone. They're normal! They don't lie, cheat, or mislead you to believe they’re feeling something they aren't feeling. But unfortunately for me, no "good eggs" have been thrown at me. I've been stuck dating all the "rotten eggs;" the selfish guys who don't care who they hurt, as long as they get what they want out of it. 

For example, in my post about polishing turds, I speak of a guy who claimed that all of his exes were some form of crazy. But this guy wasn't a "good egg" who had a knack for attracting whacko broads. He was a "rotten egg" who used that excuse to get down girls’ pants.

And the guy who tried giving me a happy ending at Starbucks at one in the afternoon, would've appeared to the naked eye to have "good egg" qualities. But in the end, he turned out to be just another "horny old rotten egg."

All of these rotten eggs have put a bad taste in my mouth, gals. Thus, my one-sided blog.

On the other hand! Had I been dating "good eggs" all the while, we wouldn't have this hilarious blog, now would we ladies? Who the hell wants to read about my date with "Mr. Perfect Teeth" who picked me up on time, opened the door, took me to an exquisite restaurant, told me I was beautiful, had me home at a decent hour, and called the next day to say he had a nice time? Not you! This isn't a chick flick. This is real life. And sometimes, real life ain't pretty. But that's why I'm here, writing to you. Oh, I'm sure a lot of you are happily married, or cohabitating with "the one," or maybe you're just telling yourself that "shit for brains" is a "good egg." Regardless of your current situation, you’ve all been where I am now. You know what it's like to be hit in the face with "rotten eggs."

I'm not perfect, in or out of a relationship. If it sounds like I'm full of myself, rest-assured, I'm not. I have flaws, this I know well. My flaws and I have a love-hate relationship, but that discussion is for another day. This blog is my journal, in essence. It reflects who I am, and who affects me emotionally. My one-sided blog smells like a dead fart, I know. But, please don't think it's because I'm a self-righteous "negative Nelly." It's really because too many "spoiled rotten eggs" have been tainting my life with their sulfuric asses. "Whoever smelt it dealt it" doesn’t apply here, kids.

Trust me, I can't wait to start posting about my new man leaving the cap off the toothpaste, and how annoyingly cute I think it is. But until that “good egg with the hot bod and good job" finds his way into my life, I'll have to keep writing from experience. 

So, rotten eggs it is. Order up!

YOUR GUT'S NOT TRYING TO BANG YOU

I want to talk about trusting our guts. This is SO IMPORTANT, ladies. You have to trust your own instincts. We're mammals. We have these instincts to protect ourselves. A rabbit won't stand still and tell herself, "I can totally trust that coyote, after all, his mother really likes me."

Time after time I have been that rabbit. My mind was screaming, "Run you dumb ass, run!" But instead, I stood still, my gut in knots, chewing on grass, hoping to God that carnivore closing in on me turns vegan. If I had trusted my gut, right now I would be frolicking in the meadow with my man-rabbit, maybe a few baby bunnies with a nice hole in the ground to call my own. 

Trust your gut, ladies. You know exactly what I'm talking about. Something happens. He left his phone in the hotel room, that's why he didn't return your calls. He was afraid you'd be mad at him for staying out past 2am, that's why he lied to you about it. You feel your face heating up, your stomach tightens, your brow furrows and the lines in your face become all too obvious. The heat from your face starts to fill your entire body. You're thinking, "Is this guy for real?" And your gut is yelling, "Tell that a-hole to go eff himself!" Then you think about the consequences. It'll be over. You won't get to kiss those pink lips, or feel his hot breath whisper "I love you" in your ear anymore. You won't get to ride shotgun in his truck while he fingers through "your" songs on his ipod. You won't get to feel his hands on your skin. You won't be able to ravage that body of his anymore. Never again. The slow-mo movie of the two of you smiling, laughing, hugging, kissing and twirling each other around in the sunshine plays in your head. To a John Mayer song. Then your anger turns to fear and sadness. You tell your gut to shut the hell up and ask your guy, kindly, to never lie to you again. K, honey?

If I could go back to that moment, I would've ended the conversation and chewed on it for a while. Yes, the movie would have played, with the damn John Mayer song, and I would have wanted to call him and tell him it was all ok. But I would have continued to chew on it. Thinking about the fact that he lied to me. I would have chewed on it. And thought about the rest of my life, having to live in his shadiness, chewing on this tough grass when there are all these tasty dandelions and sunny spots out there for me to enjoy. And my gut would have calmly whispered, "Atta girl. Sunny spots. Dandelions. He LIED to you. Sunny spots." 

Your gut has nothing to lose here, gals. Your gut is your best friend. It knows you better than anyone else on earth. That guy who lied to you has a lot to lose! Your phone calls, your back rubs, your front rubs. His daily ego boost. The comfort of having someone to take to parties so people don't think he's just some loser who can't keep a woman. Your gut is just looking out for you. It cares about you, kid. So listen to it. Don't listen to that boy's excuses. If your gut is telling you that he lied to you because he may or may not have been getting a happy ending in some skanky basement massage parlor, thank it for being honest and take the advice being given to you. Your gut is your protector. It's your inner survivor. Don't just stand there and take it. Protect yourself! 

Two things I now believe in strongly: My gut is always right and John Mayer's full of shit. 

DON'T CROWD YOUR EGGS

I pulled out some of my old journals the other night. I am amazed at how clear things become when I read about them a year later. I look back at some of my entries and wonder, "Who is this girl and why can't she see that this guy is a douche!?" One thing in particular became very clear to me. I have a tendency to put all my eggs in one basket. 

After "what’s-his-nuts" was done dawdling around in my life, I saw what I had been doing wrong for the previous 7 months. I was putting all of my energy into the relationship. And the more eggs I put into his basket, the sooner they began to rot. I did this a lot in the past. I did it in my marriage, in my stint with "hairy balls," and with "good ole honky tonk boy," too. (Man I miss him.) I even did it with "cry baby." Poor thing. 

Now that I've seen the light, I have a lot of different baskets in my life. I have my friendship basket, my family basket, my art/photography basket, my blog basket, my pet basket, my volunteer basket, my work-out basket, my sit on the porch by myself and drink a bottle of wine basket, etc. And honestly, I'm happier than I've ever been. Truly happy. A little lonely at times, but that's what Boy Toys are for, right gals? (Boy Toy high five!) 

Now my eggs are distributed amongst all my baskets. They have room to breathe and tons of space to do whatever it is that eggs like to do. Sometimes, though, I'll take eggs out of one basket to visit another basket when that basket is feeling a little low. Like when my family was cleaning out my gramma's house on what would have been her 90th birthday. I pulled eggs from a few other baskets to put into my family basket for the day. My pet basket wasn't thrilled since he spent the day in the cage, but tonight I intend to put the eggs back into his basket and take him to the dog park.

Listen, I'm not saying that there should be a certain amount of eggs in each of your baskets all the time, ladies. But I do think that when you start piling the eggs into one basket, they feel smothered and that's when they start to go bad. So! I think you should go to Michael’s, take your 40% off coupon, buy some fun, colorful baskets and a label maker. Then let your "significant other" basket know that you plan to lighten his load, and let your eggs have a little fun in a different basket for once!

THE GOOD, THE BAD AND JULIE ANDREWS

So I read this article. The gist of it was that in order to be successful in dating, you need to remain positive in all situations. For example; if it rains, instead of seeing it as a huge bummer, turn it around and remember that rain will bring beautiful flowers. Great point!

I know that I have become a bit negative after all the "whats-their-nuts," "hairy-balls" and "cry-babies" I've had to suffer through. And I can see where this negativity would hinder my chances of finding a great guy. It's physics, ladies. Like attracts like. So if I focus my energy on all the bad dates I've had, I'll just attract more of that into my life. But if I focus on the good that came out of these situations, better dates will come my way. No girl wants more hairy balls in her life!

So from now on, ladies, I'm going to be more positive and look for the good in every situation!

Like when I met that guy the other night., and we started chit-chatting, and he bought me a drink, and decided to shove his pelvis into my ass...that's a good thing! I mean, I do have a great ass. He was just letting me know he agreed, that's all. 

And when that one guy (who has yet to ask me out on a real date) sends me texts like, "come over, I need a back massage," and "woman, when are you cooking me dinner"...it's cute! Right? I mean, he must think I'm multi-talented so that's a compliment, at least!

Who knows, maybe all the ass grinding, back massaging and dinner cooking I'll be doing will make me into a better woman! That's a good thing, right?

Or! Maybe there are lessons to be learned here. The lesson being that the next time I strike up a convo with a stranger, I better watch my ass. And the next time a guy asks me for my number I'll picture myself in an apron, whipping up dinner with one hand, massaging his back with another, then I'll think about whether or not this guy should get my number.

So I guess I'll try to be more positive, I can do that. But I'm no Fraulein Maria, ladies. And I think that is a good thing.

FISH GUTS ARE FOR STRAY CATS

For all of my friends who are thinking about setting me up with a guy, let me first say that single is not the only qualification I require in a man. Remember, girls, I'm going to have to spend an entire evening sitting across from this guy. I'm going to have to hear his life story. Watch him eat. He's going to possibly try to kiss me at the end of the date. So, ask yourself this, "If I weren't happily married to my hot, bringin-home-the-bacon husband, would I myself want this guy's lips close to my face?" Right. 

Just because I'm 37 and single does not mean I should have to settle. I'm not some stray cat, scrounging around for fish bones after you and every other married chick snatched up all the fresh catches. I know you know this, but you need to keep it in the forefront when you get the urge to hook me up with your overly religious cousin. Or your ball-scratching colleague. Or that fence guy who drove the "he thinks it's cool, I think it's gay" Camaro. (At least we got a good belly laugh out of that one!)

I know you are looking out for me, want what's best for me, blah blah blah. But please just think about the following things before setting me up, k? 

Again, we're a lot alike, right gals? If you don't want his ass in your bed, why would you think I would want it in mine? I'm not saying I'm going to sleep with him on the first date, but eventually sex will have to play a part. So, if you're not attracted to him, chances are I won't be either.

You cannot be biased when choosing my potential mate. I know he's your relative, and you think he's adorable. But he's not a stuffed animal. He's a man. And I'm going to fuck him eventually. 

Do not under any circumstance let your husband or boyfriend convince you that his friend is perfect for me without you scoping him out first. I want you to physically look at him, listen to him speak and formulate your own opinion before you go bringing him along unexpectedly. Men have different ideas about partnerships, gals, we all know that.

Don't ever hook me up with someone because he is "nice." Please.

As tempting as it is, I can't date someone who is in his early or mid-twenties. My five+ year plan involves marriage and children. If we're lucky he has a plan. And most likely it includes nothing more than tall ones and tail. But feel free to put him on my Boy Toy list! Even though I already have one, I can pass him along to one of my cronies.

And a guy in his late forties isn't going to want to chase toddlers in his mid fifties. And I don't want my future children taking cues from him, thinking it's ok to stand in front of the refrigerator rubbing their bellies.

So, chicas, now that you have some guidelines to follow, go find me a man! ;)

PS, I love yoooooou. 

THIS IS JUST A TEST

I'm attracted to "bad boys." You wanna know why? Because "safe guys" are boring. I hate boring. I'd rather have the flu than be bored. I think a lot of you are right there with me, ladies.

Mmmmmmmm, "bad boys." I say that with drool running down my chin. I love a hot, fierce, adventurous, hilarious, manly "bad boy." But in my experience, most of them have also been irresponsible, shady, cheating, lying, lazy, selfish dirtbags.

What about the "safe guys?" They would be thrilled to give us the white picket fence, yellow lab, one girl, one boy life that we all dream about. But they're also the guys who won't grab a quickie in a restaurant bathroom, want squirt-butter on the movie popcorn, or skip chores to enjoy a sunny Sunday afternoon to smell the flowers and sip some suds.

And let's face it, at our age, all the good "middle-ground guys" are taken! You know the ones I'm talking about, ladies. They ride Harleys to church. They meet you for nooners then buy you lunch. They drink beer while they build you your picket fence. None of those left...gone. If you find any, send him my way, would ya?

So what is a girl to do? Continue dating the "bad boy," or choose the "safe guy" and sacrifice excitement for stability? 

I say we do a little experimenting, ladies. How about it? Are you with me?

Let's date a "bad boy" AND a "safe guy" simultaneously. We will go out on dates with both types of men, then we will share stories with each other. Oh this will be a hoot! We can weigh the pros and cons, gather data, work up a spread sheet, analyze the findings and hopefully have more insight. 

I'm serious, ladies! Are you with me? Who's in?

POLISHING TURDS

I have learned a valuable lesson through the years that I would like to share with you, ladies. 

The lesson is this: Don't think YOU will be the girl to change him.

People don't change. They may grow or learn lessons, but who they are is who they are. If you are dating a guy who has a past, it will no doubt become your future. Look at a guy's history, ladies. He's not going to change his ways for you. Why did his marriage fail? Why did his last girlfriend break up with him? Why is he no longer banging that bartender? Know what you are getting yourself into.

Red flags should go up if a guy tells you his last girlfriend, his ex-wife or his past bump 'n grind is needy, whacko, clingy, boring, or bipolar. Assess the situation. Look at his past. Look at the present. Then think about your future. 

You are an ex-girlfriend, or an ex-wife, even a past bump 'n grind to some man out there. He's probably calling you "crazy" as we speak. And we both know that you're not! But he's trying to convince his new lay that you are so she'll ignore the red flags. Every asshole uses this tactic, ladies. They convince us that the one before was a nut job who drove him to act the way he acted. When in reality, she's just another one of us, and he probably drove her batty with his ridiculous behavior. I mean, let's be honest, how many women do you know who are actually insane? OK, a few. But chances are, if he dated her or married her, she must not have been that loony. 

So we need to band together, ladies. If she couldn't change him neither will you. That is not up for debate. Stop defending this guy against his ex. You are not in competition with her. She was with him. She knows him. Don't question that. Look at her as a valuable resource who could prevent you from a lifetime, or at the very least, a few months of suffering.

A strong, smart, beautiful woman recently gave me some advice about a guy I was dating. Red flags went up like fireworks on the Fourth of July. So I chose to ignore the warnings, label her as a crazy ex, and put my trust in the guy who would prove to me soon enough that she was right and I was a dumb ass. 

That guy is out there right now. Looking for the next "you're it." Who knows, maybe it's YOU! So if you run into a well-dressed, charming, good-looking guy who feeds you his bullshit about how hard he tried to make it work with me, who gives you puppy-dog-eyes and tells you how demanding I was and how he just couldn't give me what I wanted, don't fall for it! Throw a flag on that play, lady!