Purposefully Seeking OCD

I’m going to admit something.. you probably already know, but something I’ve kept hidden from myself. Its how I process, I know this.. I just… well.. its hard to see what you’re hiding from yourself, because… well.. you’re hiding it from yourself.

See how that works?

I’ve been trying to re-build my life for years, with the most progress happening this last year since the divorce. I may or may not have had a “breakdown” years ago. Its hard to say, and never was diagnosed. But looking back, I have to wonder.

All I know is that somewhere along the way, I forgot how to be a functional human being. I honestly blame my ex, but in reality I should blame myself. I stayed where I should have fled.

I’m discovering little things on my road back to humanity. I forgot what it was like to take joy in doing something for absolutely no reason other than I wanted to. I forgot what it was like to actually get a real paycheck for real services rendered. I forgot that pride.

People used to call me “Monica”.. remember Monica from friends.. she was OCD, reserved, a great cook. Everything had its place. It drove her crazy when something wasn’t where it belonged.

Thats how I used to be. Seriously. Everything had its place. Somehow during the battle with my ex (who believed that everything went wherever he decided to leave it, and that fairies would move it back to its spot), up until even today, that particular OCD has gone away. (not fully, but for the most part yes.)

I was actually having a conversation with my best friend where she began to talk about how she now has my OCD… well not exactly, she’s much more of a clean-freak than I ever was. I started looking around my apartment and realized that.. I no longer have any of the “functional” parts of my OCD.

Seriously, its like apathy has taken over OCD. Like I am (was) functioning defeated. Like I’d given up.

So I’ve decided that I’m going to get it back. I’m happier with things in their place. I’m happier with a cleaner/neater apartment.

And so, I’ve been slowly digging myself out of this hole I’ve built. I can almost see my dining room table again.

I’m making a new list of “rules” and will be practicing doing them until I get back to where I was… ok maybe not the insane OCD crap.. but functional. Where I can have someone over maybe without saying “Oh, umm.. just close your eyes.”

(Btw, I have managed to rid myself of my “I need this” hoarding OCD, which I am not seeking to take up again. Thanks but that’s one I can do just fine without.)

**** For you that are grossing yourselves out with your imaginations, please understand that my mess is clean mess. I don’t have left over food containers all over, or crumbs everywhere. Its just old things to get rid of, papers to file, clothes to give to goodwill.. and some canned goods to put away.


The Good Fight

There is nothing like a good fight. Ok… arguement.. discussion.. whatever you want to call it when two people disagree, voice it, and come to a resolution.. hopefully without killing each other or causing undue bodily or emotional/mental harm.

I like a good arguement. Not all the time. Not every day. But when the time it is right, the subject is right, then yes.. a good arguement.

I’ve always known the importance of disagreement. Partly from my parents who when I was a child disagreed often and probably more so than was healthy.  But they worked it out, and this is eventually what I took away from it.

Then came the ex.. He disagreed on nothing. A few times he’d disagree, and I’d start to get into my arguing mode producing my evidence for my stance, and he’d back down. I assumed (wrongly) that because he did so.. that the subject was not important or that I’d turned him to agree with me.

What I didn’t know.. and didn’t understand.. is that while I understood good arguements and resolution.. He didn’t.

While I love his father.. it wasn’t until way late in the marriage when I realized that it was his father who taught him this.  His father taught him to back down to any confrontation from a woman. If she said it.. she got her way. Period. (Partly this is because his mother is a lunatic..)

So I was left most of the marriage trying to get out of my ex what it was that he wanted. I tried coaxing it out of him. I tried giving him options of compromises that I’d agree to.. to which he merely let me do whatever it was I wanted.. all the while myself knowing that he had an opinion he just didn’t want to share it.

He refused to tell me things that might possibly in some way of any kind.. upset me.  Sometimes these were minor things.. he’d broken a glass.. and sometimes these were major things.. the company was downsizing or there was something wrong with his health.

To most people.. he’d be considered a nice guy.. to me, he was a doormat. Passive-aggressive. His way of dealing (by not dealing) caused me more stress than anything. I worried. I fretted. I nearly drove myself crazy trying to get answers out of him.

Then I gave up. Really. He said it was ok to get whatever curtains I wanted. I would. I stopped consulting him on things. I did whatever I wanted. He did whatever he wanted. We had our routine and stuck to that. I pretended not to care.. until I really didn’t anymore.

Probably needless to say that we drifted apart. The thing is.. the relationship probably could have been salvaged.. if only we’d had that fight. We had the anger anyway. We had the resentment. We just never had the resolution.

Since then, I’ve noticed how that has changed me. Downside: I don’t press people for anything anymore (which often means I don’t ask anyone any questions and it can look like I don’t care). Upside: If someone doesn’t answer me, or doesn’t want to talk to me.. I move on without care to someone who does.

But I also find myself really liking a good argument (not a forced argument.. don’t be silly and try to make a fight) where both viewpoints are expressed.. I find myself respecting the other person a whole ton.. and sometimes finding them sexy where before I did not.

Its not about arguing for arguement’s sake.. its about the freedom to express yourself and your partner feeling free to express themselves.. its not about the conflict.. its about your ability to have it and still come to a resolution.

Its not the fight.. its the making up.  Its about honesty. Its about trust. Its about making sure you’re both on the same path… Together.

Just A Good Long Cry

I’d been getting worried about myself the last week or month really. I began wondering if I was turning into some kind of sociopath or something as I couldn’t seem to access my emotions.  I wanted to cry sometimes but couldn’t. Things that should have had me rolling on the floor would merely make me smile or just not phase me at all.

I’d been thinking about the ex often. Not in a romantic way, but more so in an angry wishing him harm kind of way. I found myself containing volumes of anger and bitterness, and I didn’t like it one bit but also felt powerless to do anything about it.

To be honest what really scared me the most was that night with Hock. He’d be sweet and thoughtful.. giving actually.. and instead of triggering the same in me, I found myself getting angry. It was sweet stuff that threatened to melt my heart, and I resisted it. I didn’t want to feel anything, and I found myself angry at Hock for making me even try to feel anything.

All this last week, the slightest kind thing on TV or clip forwarded to me from Youtube, and I’d get choked up.

Then last night’s Glee. The dam burst and I cried like a baby through the entire show. At first, it was the small little touching moments of the show that got my tears flowing, but somewhere in the middle I just broke down and cried, a hard uncontrollable sob-fest.

I think its the first real big cry I’ve had since we’d started the whole divorce process (well once I knew it was really divorce), let alone the first big cry since the divorce.

All that anger, resentment, stress, fear, etc… finally bubbled back to the surface and let itself out.

After the show was over, I cried a little more then dried my tears. I felt better. I felt human.

It really was a good long cry, and something I truly needed.

Luke Again

Luke and I have started chatting again.

It all started when he complained on FB about there only being crazy women. Of course, if you only think there are crazy women thats all you’ll find, but I didn’t tell him that. I know him well enough to know that he really does like crazy chicks. Since we have history, I suppose that admission might reflect badly on me, but then I’ve never professed to be the poster child for sanity.

We talked about dating, life, goals, etc. We had a good conversation. It was good to talk again and just be friendly. I remembered him and I as friends and it made me smile.

Of course, while we talked I entertained the idea of getting back together. Each topic we agreed on, I wondered more about if things might work if we tried again. Each topic we disagreed on, I reminded myself why we aren’t together.

I also started to remember the fire in him. How passionate he is. It was one of the things that first drew to me him. When he loves something, he loves it completely, protectively, and a little possessively. He will fight for it. Its a very attractive quality especially after my ex who was very passive about everything.

But with his fire comes demands. He’s rather black and white. Good and bad. Very little grey at all. Very little compromise. He talks in absolutes, and has trouble forgiving or seeing/understanding another viewpoint.

I however live in grey quite often. While I admire peoples firm hold onto beliefs, I do find rigidness constraining. I’m more apt to fight for the freedom for everyone, than I am to fight for my personal beliefs. I understand that what’s right for me, isn’t always right for everyone else. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not all wishy washy either. I do have my beliefs and things I will fight for as well…

But there are things that he wants. He’s open and honest with his expectations of his future wife/lover, and they aren’t things I really want and I’m not sure I could be them.

I’m also realizing that I’m still adverse to making any kind of compromise or giving anything up to please a partner. I might could eventually, but those compromises have to be gradual and not “dealbreakers” if I never live up to it. In essence, I merely want to be accepted for who I am right now. Encouraged to be the best me I can be. Loved for who I am, and who I become.

We talked two nights in a row, several hours each night. He’d message me throughout the day with simple hellos and innocent flirts. It felt good. Like I had a new good friend, a potential lover.. there was an innocent hope but not well-thought out.. an idea, a hope, and unclear dream of possiblity.

Then he said he’d be interested in more, and asked me what I thought..

The dream suddenly died, and reality came crashing in. All his expectations hit me at once, I thought about having to fulfill them. It was like being hit with a ton of bricks. I couldn’t breathe, and my eyes started to fill with tears.

I told him it was too soon to tell. But in all honesty, I don’t see things working out. It would be great if they did. He would want to get married relatively soon and start a family together. He’d be a fantastic father, and possibly a great lover (if we can come to some compromises, I do know that the sex would never be boring).

But all I can see right now is feeling pressured to do things his way, and feeling compromised, trapped, and resentful. The things of which spousal murders are made.

Gimme A Naked Man

So I went out last night. It was a friend’s birthday party, Crissy, and so it was an obligation as well as I needed to get out.

I’d love to pretend for you all that I’ve not written because I’ve been extremely busy dating and going out and meeting people, but that would be lies.  Instead, I’ve been battling some very painful sickness, which at one point had me seriously considering suicide. I know, scared the hell out of me too.  So I’ve not really been out much at all, and have been hermitting to a point of extremely scary. When you’re sick, you just don’t feel social unless you’re one of those girls that likes people to feel sorry for her and bring her soup and fluff her pillows. I’m much too independant for that. My arm could be cut off and I’d still want to do the tournequet myself. You actually know I’m desperately ill (aka get worried) when I actually request help or let you do things for me.

So I’ve not been social lately, partly because I didn’t want to, and partly because I didn’t want people to see me like that. Yes, I have my vanity. So I haven’t had much to write about or much want to write really.

But I’ve been feeling a little better, and for the last few days, had an extreme need to go out and be social… if nothing else have a drink.

So I went to Chrissy’s birthday bash. I get there just in time to see Chrissy in a conga line with several others. Yeah, it was gunna be a good night baby!

There were about 20-30 people there as part of Chrissy’s group and I met maybe 10 of them. A few of the girls I knew from before and were ok, but a couple of the new girls.. well.. lets say wow. (yes, thats not a good wow)

So the “cool” people were all hanging out and catching up on each others lives. Whats new.. whats old.. and Ooo did you hear.. While listening to music, doing a jig, and drinking.

We then moved the party over to the karaoke room. A few of us gathering at tables to watch the show. We’re joking and laughing and parts of the party were staying for a few then leaving then coming and leaving..

Then this attractive man shows up. Sees me. Smiles, and comes over jokes with me and sits down next to me.

He’s dressed well, showing he has some taste other than tshirts and jeans, but not dressed well enough to set off my douchebag sensors.

For Chrissy’s birthday, someone had given her a small leather flogger. Getty was holding it and playing with it next to me and Wade (the attractive man next to me).

Seriously, introduce a flogger to a group of drunk people and you’ll never look at any of them the same way again. I promise.

I teased Getty about her being a masochist since she kept hitting herself with it (not hard, just tapping it against her side), and she informed me that she had one at home. Boggle. Though I really should not be surprised, I was.

I do not have a flogger yet, but I assure you I will soon.

So Wade jumps in the conversation, half teasing Getty, but full on flirting with me. After my month or more of hermitville, I was surprised and flattered, and more than willing to flirt back.

This broke out my evil side. Most people don’t realize (at least right away) that I am truely evil. Sure sure, I may sound and look a little too reserved or be a little too goody goody.. but I am all about encouraging others to do things they shouldn’t.

Wade watched in amusement as I prodded Getty into using the flogger more seriously, and on other people. Random men walking by.. “Oh he looks like he’s been a very bad boy.. Getty, you know he needs a little spanking..”

The evil glimmer in my eye was sparkling brightly and Wade was eating it up. Then I turned Getty on him. Telling him that he looked like he needed a little something, that he wanted to be spanked. I even teased that I could do it properly.

He squirmed in his chair and discouraged Getty and pleaded with me to stop encouraging her. I just grinned evilly, and winked at him.

“I’m sorry, I’m evil. I can’t help it. And you do look like you’re in need of it.”

He flashed me a smile, and a look that said “If only I could put you over my knee.”

Then Mr. DrunkenPants happened, and Getty went to help him. He was supposedly part of our group. He was about 30? and so drunk that he was nauseated.

This interupted our sexy banter, but also left Wade and I alone to talk. The song turned country, and I mentioned to Wade that I found it strange how much of the karaoke picks were country music. (Most Austin karaoke seems to be rock btw) He responded that he liked country music and asked what I liked. I flirtingly responded that I liked a bit of everything.

I told him that I grew up on country music (I did) and had a bit of nostalgic love for it. He wanted to know what kind. The old twang or the new more rock-like country. I said both, and told him about my college years going to country bars to dance two-step.

He heard two-step, and insisted that I go dance with him. There was no saying no (Seriously sexy),  despite my pleading that I did not have dancing shoes on. I had on purpose worn flipflops that would make dancing difficult so I wouldn’t be tempted to go club dance with Chrissy and injure my knees. I didn’t expect anyone showing up to like to country dance.  Next time I’ll know better.

So he whisks me off to the dance floor. I’m stepping on toes and having trouble following.

1. because I’m rusty with my two-step.

2. the song was two-step in double time (like two-step on fast forward)

3. I’m concentrating on not losing my shoes.

But I managed to pull it off, and we had a great dance.

As we walked off the dance floor, he held my hand, moving his fingers to interlace with mine. I did not want to return to our group. I was all “take me home now buddy”. (yeah its been a while since I’ve had sex, stop judging me) 🙂

As we get a few feet off the dance floor, we both seem to realize that we’ve just met and realize we’re holding hands, fingers interlaced, and we stop holding hands. It was one of those moments.. like being drunk in a dark bar and kissing someone, and then when they turn the lights on to go home, you realize just how much you’re in public.

We walked back to the group together. Talking and flirting. When we’d returned, Getty shot me a look like “you go girl”… then drunk girl happened.

This girl who honestly looked trashy, was drunk and Getty had witnessed her doing a full on makeout session in the other room with some guy, returned to our group and latched herself onto Wade pushing me away. Wade looked at me pleadingly to help him.

I tried, but she would not be swayed. She was quite intent on owning Wade, and he was nicely trying to extract her. The more I tried, the more closely she clung. Wade all the while appologizing to me, and complaining about her.

It was then that I was informed that our group was being kicked out because Mr. DrunkenPants had puked on the floor. (Seriously, it was like college deja vu)

We were all meeting at another place. A strip joint.

I’d been warned about this prior to going to the party that the night would end at a local strip joint. Since I’d never been to one before, I decided it might be a good time to go check it out.

Wade was being responsible and trying to arrange rides for those who were too drunk to drive. Since I was stone cold sober, I offered my services. Mostly I offered them because I didn’t want drunkgirl trying to go with him in his car, and partly because I was hoping that he’d take up the offer himself. He unfortunately was completely sober too, but he did jump on my offer to take drunkgirl. He was very consistent in his not wanting to be with her.

So after what seemed like hours of trying to manipulate drunk people.. drunkgirl got in my car (put there by Wade himself) and Getty drove the Mr Drunkenpants car to his place about a mile away and I was to pick her up there.

As I take off, Drunkgirl starts telling me about Wade, revealing to me that she and Wade are good friends. She and Mr DrunkenPants are also good friends. It was myself and Getty that were the new people to the group.

At this news, I was no longer very happy with Wade. If she was really his friend, it was his responsiblity to take her drunk ass home.. not mine. The more she talked, the more I realized. I am quite certain that Wade and her are FWB friends, and his displeasure stemmed less from revulsion of her and more of being pissed that she’d f’d things up for him with anyone else.

I really try not to judge people, but I fail all the time. After seeing this girl, I’m not sure I want any penis that’s been near her to be anywhere near me. I’m quite sure Wade has no idea what hill he’ll have to climb to get back on my good side. He may even need a full delousing as well as a note from his doctor.

Drunkgirl also entertains me with stories about how she’s not that drunk, despite claiming that she doesn’t know where she lives, and that she walks like the world is tilting from side to side. She was dressed in clothes that were obviously too small for her that made me wonder what industrial strength thread was holding up the seams. She tells me got divorced 3 yrs ago as proof that this is just a one time thing, an emotional release. I refrain from telling her that my ex left me a litttle over a year ago, and I just signed papers letting him sell the house so him and his girlfriend can go buy a new lovenest closer to the city.

She repeats that she’s not that drunk. At least 20 times on the way to pick up Getty.

At Mr DrunkenPant’s place, Getty is still trying to pry him out of his car. She’s being too damn nice, I think, but thats Getty.  So I get out and tell Drunkgirl to get out and help her friend into his house. She doesn’t move.

I am by this point lividly pissed at the entire situation.

Mr. DrunkenPant’s is complaining about me that he doesn’t know me or Getty. (Dear Mr. DrunkenPants, When getting drunk, make sure you have at least one friend who’ll drive you home. And don’t complain about the niceness of strangers. Thanks)  So I go get Drunkgirl and tell her that her friend is complaining that he doesn’t know us and I point blank tell her to get her ass out of my car and help him.

She does. Finally.

She leads Mr. DrunkenPants to his bathroom, and I try to snag Getty to get her to leave with me so we can ditch both of them there. Getty insists she needs to obey Mr DrunkenPant’s wishes and calls the place where his daughter is staying asking them to keep her overnight. (Its midnight, I think they’ve already figured that out. But she calls anyway.)

So as soon she can, Drunkengirl runs back out to my car and plants herself in it. No choice but to take her with us.

We finally take off to go to the Cabaret, and half the ride there Drunkgirl is telling us she’s not that drunk, and that she’s a responsible person. I stop myself from telling her she’s overselling it.  She then gets out her phone and calls Wade. (Yes they are good friends. Asshole.) She then proceeds to bitch out Wade for putting her in a car with strangers.

I correct her “No no.. we’re strange bitches.”

She tells him, and continues on her rant calling us strangers and how dare he…

I correct her again.. “No no.. we are psychotic crazy women”

She tells him that exactly. (Hey I have to get some fun out of this)

We arrive at the Cabaret and she’s still on the phone with him. She doesn’t exit the car.

“Please get out of my car so I can lock it.”

She grumbles and gets out. I lock the car and run off toward the entrance with Getty. Drunkengirl follows, but never actually enters the establishment.

We presume she doesn’t have the $10 cover.

Due to all the shenanigans, Getty and I are late and we’ve lost half the party. Wade is no where to be seen, so I can’t even bitch at him myself.

So Getty and I find our own corner and sit down. I watch the show trying to simmer down and have fun. This is my first time at a strip club, so I wanted to relax and watch and see what all the commotion is about.

What I’m seeing is a combination of gymnastics, high heels, and no clothes.. plus a few moves you can see on any club dance floor anywhere.  A couple girls were talented and impressive, but most were merely flexible girls showing their goods. B O R I N G.

Now I might be more entertained had there been a couple nearly naked men doing it, but if I want to see tities shake I can do that in my mirror at home. Thats at least more fun because I can challenge myself to get them to shake in different ways or do different things.. But there was no challenge and no fun to be had.

It didn’t help any that I was tired I’m sure.

Getty however was all into it. I really think she’s gay (for more reasons than just this btw), but she has to realize that herself. She was oohing and ahhing over the girls.. or at least some girls.. and even got a lap dance. Even though the lap dance was happening right next to me, I got distracted by the lights or something, because I only saw a bit of it and then when I looked back the girl was putting her clothes back on. It has become glaringly obvious to me that women are not my thing.

Despite my family’s confusion once in thinking that I and my best friend were lesbian lovers, and despite that sometimes men piss me off to the point of wanting to give up on men completely… I just have never had a thing for women. My friends and I have never had girly snuggling sessions. I’ve never kissed a girl nor have I been tempted to. The closest to gay I’ve gotten was when I was 8 or 10 or something and a girlfriend came over for a sleepover. She convinced me to play a doctor type thing, where we sucked on each others nipples. It seemed weird at the time and meant absolutely nothing. It felt like the equivalent of being licked in the face by my dog. A little bit of Eww.

I’ve never really understood some girls’ draw to each other for physical affection, kissing, teasing, playing, or sex. I’m just not wired that way.

Now.. give me a naked man.. Thats a whole different story.

I Can Do IT Myself

I’ve reached a point of clarity I think. Or at least I feel like I have a plan, a goal, something to work for..

Mostly, I have hope which has been lacking in the last few weeks, and a very observant man told me that a depressing theme has ran through this blog lately. Hopefully, that is now over. (Everyone cross your fingers.)

Since my ex left, I’ve been in a recovery from the tailspin. For many reasons which I’ve not gone into detail here, and I most likely won’t, I’ve not had a good long-term outlook for potential employment. It was part of the reason that I was a housewife.

To put it simply…

Worst case scenario: I may end up living in a bubble (almost literally).. meaning I may not be able to leave my home except for extenuating circumstances.

Best case scenario: I may never need to worry about any of this ever again, and can do whatever, whenever I want with no worries.

Best case scenario right now though is more of a fantasy than a reality, which is what I was trying to get at in my previous post about Self-Analysis.  I cannot plan on it.

I did realize the other day that I instead can make the best of this bad situation, so for the last several days I’ve been brainstorming career moves.

If I’m going to be saddled with living in a bubble, its going to be the Taj Mahal of bubbles, damn it! (So I need to pull in some dough)

Once I embraced this, and embraced that I am currently alone and can’t expect others to build it for me.. (and discarded a bunch of self-pity I’d been holding onto)

I began to feel empowered in a way I’ve not felt since this whole bubble thing first was threatened on me. I’ve always been a “I can do it myself” person. Even from infancy, but somewhere along the road I forgot it.

I also began thinking of all the things I want to do, and things I’ve been wanting to do for a while now. Business plans, projects, and philanthropic ventures.  As I began thinking about those, I would discard one after another for either being a pipedream (inventing shoes that constantly keep your feet at a suitable temperature is a bit out of my skill-set) and other ideas because they would require work from others which I cannot pay for right now.

Most of this work that I would need someone else to do is computer related and something that would have been in the skillset of my ex or several of my exes.

I also realized that I don’t really have a tech guy in the wings that I can run to for these things as I’ve always had in the past.  I ran through my memories of past relationships and almost every computer problem or upgrade or even building a new machine… was done either by a guy in my life or with the supervision of a guy in my life.

Despite the fact that since I discovered the internet in 1992 (I think that was the year) I’ve never been without a computer and have always spent a good portion of every day on one… I myself have never really sought out learning more about them (unless I needed to.. I like to do things myself, so yes I made them teach me the stuff I needed to know) and in part have been spoon fed everything I know about whats new in computers from the guys I’ve dated.

This spoon-feeding is gone.  I left my network of “go-to” geeks  in Chicago, and lost touch with many of them as they married and as I married.  With my ex no longer in the picture, there is this gaping tech hole.

I think part of the reason I love tech-geeks is that I really do like computers.  But like mowing the lawn or changing the oil in my car, I’ve considered it a guy’s job.  Not that I couldn’t do it, but a skill-set that I was lacking.

And if I’m honest.. I also think it was partly a way for me to be that “Damsel in distress” and a way for them to be the “Hero”.

I know this was the case with my ex.  When my ex and I got together, I was pretty tech-savvy for the time period.  Hardware mostly, but tech-savvy.  When we got married, I sort of dropped the tech.  He had a Masters in computers and could spin circles around me… he also didn’t have the patience to teach me anything and preferred to be the “Hero”.. So I let him and I concentrated my efforts on my skills that he was lacking.  And had the relationship worked, this division of labor would have been ok.

So there’s a void in my geek contact. Majorly.  And part of me wants to fill that void with a nice tech-savvy sexy geek.

But as I thought about it, geeks and me haven’t had the most successful track-record. Do I really want to limit my dating pool that much?  Is it really realistic? Isn’t it a bit too superficial?

Anyway, it dawned on me that I really like working with computers. So I began investigating careers, and what it would take for me to get some skills to make a living.

The more I read. The more I loved it. The more excited I got.

I’ve always thought of myself as a geek-wannabe or a geek-groupie, but what I’m starting to realize is that I really am a geek.


I really don’t need someone else to be geek for me.. I can do it myself!

Will He Or Won’t He Marry Me?

I keep hearing this “horror” stories about girls who date guys for year and years and years, and complain that the guy doesn’t marry them.

If you are one of these girls… SHUT UP and be happy or GET OUT.

Those are your choices.

If a guy wants to marry you, he will.  Unless he’s majorly stupid, he’ll know relatively soon.

There’s some really great advice on this over at LuvemorLeavem.

Personally, unless the guy has said he never ever wants to marry again. In which case, I know going in that marriage is not on the table. I won’t date anyone more than 2 yrs, and after the first year I’m evaluating whether or not I want to stay as I’m already feeling like he’s not going to propose (aka not that into me).

Yes, I know… you think I’m crazy and that I should give men more time.

In my family, there is little divorce. Partly because its just not done, and partly because we don’t do wishy washy. You either want to, or you don’t.

Most marriages in my family.. on both sides of my family.. the engagement happened around the 6 month mark, and were married by a year or so into the relationship.  So from starting dating to married was roughly a years time. (Some were less than years time btw)

This is my background or my examples of long-term marriage.

I’ve also seen long-term dating work out well, but those couples are also on the same page. They don’t expect marriage or want marriage and are perfectly happy with things as they are.  They work out things together, rather than one of them whining behind the other’s back about their legal status.

So to these girls sitting through years of dating..

Are you ok with being committed to someone verbally or do you need a legal document?  Are you ok with simply being happy together or do you want the big party?

Figure out what you want.. What you need to be happy, and stick to it.

The right guy for you will want to give you what you need to happy, and maybe more.

Stop playing victim. Make a choice. Make a decision. He’ll respect you more for it. And if he’s not willing to give it to you, you can stop wasting your time on him.

A Little Slutty

In light of DateDaily’s article about the guy who broke up with his girlfriend solely because she had too many partners…

I thought I’d do a confessional to scare off any and all would-be suitors.

I just want you all to know… all you guys out there.. I’ve been with 40 men myself (around there anyway).

*pausing for you all to start the name calling and get it over with*

My marriage did not end because I couldn’t keep it in pants. I can. I went a whole 5 solid years of marriage abstinent out of respect for the marriage… and trust me.. I like sex.

Yet, people are still assuming stupid things based on a number.

I have never had an STD, VD, whatever. I’ve never gotten crabs either. I’ve checked.  I do have Herpes simplex 1? The cold sore one. I got it from my mother at birth. Though I’ve never in my life had a cold sore. I’m always extra-safe as I do not and never have used birth control pills. (I know *gasp*, but funny how you mention you’re not on the pill how much more willingly guys don a condom)

Just so you all know.. Most of that 40 have been one night stands, whether I liked it or not. Some of those one night stands were first date sex where I really just went with the moment and he never called again.  Some were guys that I wanted to bed, but a relationship would have been out of the question. Some were just moments of drunken insanity.. like the time I slept with the lead singer of a band traveling through town. (He was hot, shut up.)

Since my ex left over a year ago, I’ve had 5 partners. Six if you count the guy who couldn’t get it up. Four of those within the first 6 months after. (yes, I like to get right back up on the horse)

Am I completely done with one night stands? Have I moved past that period in my life?

For the most part, yes.  But that doesn’t mean that one of these times I might get carried away with some guy and just do what feels right in the moment.

I’m no longer the naive girl I once was, sleeping with men to win their love or to keep a relationship.

I’ve grown up. I’ve learned. I know what I need. I know (for the most part) what I want.

And every notch in that bedpost has lead me to where I am now. Each notch is special.

So throw your stones if you will. It doesn’t matter to me.

I am who I am. Thats not going to change because you think I should be someone else.

Why I Hate Football…

I didn’t mention it the other day… nor did I really mention this to the person who kick-started the whole train of thought which is this post.  Friday night’s conversation about why I have a deep seated loathing for football, opened up some old wounds that I had forgotten. I almost broke into tears while on the phone, and almost cried about it when I got off the phone.

It honestly shocked me this sudden emotion about something so silly as football.

So I thought about it. I have good memories of football. I have great memories of football. But I also have many many horrid memories of football.

I have never watched football for the game though. Ever.  Dear Ex’s.. no matter what I told you, I never ever watched football because I actually wanted to watch the game. Never. Not Once.

I grew up in Nebraska as most of you know by now. Its a huge football state. College Football. The NFL is for losers and douchebags (hey its how I was raised).

So most of my childhood was entire fall seasons of football games. Watching them on TV when televised (rare) or listening to the game on the radio while watching or helping my dad putter around in the garage.

One of my favorite and probably earliest memories of watching football was sitting on my grandfather’s lap in my parent’s basement. Everyone else was doing something else. Mom & Grandma were talking something boring (I was like 5, all adult talk was boring) and my sisters were doing their usual doing something beyond my young kid skills or otherwise ostracizing me.  So I went to see if I could sneak in some TV since I was bored (we were limited to 2 hours only a day and we didn’t have cable).

There was Grandpa watching the game. I knew enough to know he wouldn’t let me switch the channel, and I was not rude enough to ask. But he offered to share his easy chair with me, and let me watch the game with him. He even took the time to tell me what was happening on the screen.

I have other random memories of watching with my father and other family members. It was a social time. A bonding time. But for me, it was never about the game.

In college, one of my guy friends who I’d always wanted to date (and whom everyone else thought we were dating.. and whom ended up being gay) invited me to some Husker game parties. It was just a fun time with food, and cheering, and bonding.  But it was never about the game.

Then came my ex.

He’d gotten turned onto football a couple years earlier, and said he liked the Saints. It was the first and only team he’d ever watched live, and watched the games with his ex’s father.

I’ve always disliked the Saints. I honestly don’t give a rats-ass about most teams. Never did. I could care less if you’re a Packers or Steelers or Bears or Redskins (are those all NFL football teams?) fan. But I’ve never liked the Saints. (I’m serious.. cheering for the Saints to me is a lot like cheering for evil or poison.. I don’t know what it is.. but I just have never liked the Saints.. You know if they changed their name to the Zombies, I’d probably like them)

He said he didn’t have to watch the Saints.. he just liked football. (Total lie)

One lie lead to another really. I’m not going to say its all his fault, as I’m sure I’ve got a hand in this too.

But what he’d told me was just a one day a week thing, suddenly became 2. Then 3. Then 4.  Anytime I wanted to go somewhere, there’s a game.  It started with “I have to watch the Saint’s play” to “I have to watch everyone play because it all ties into how the Saint’s will do on…blah blah blah”

Sundays were completely wasted because there was the pre-pre-game, the pre-game, the introduction to the game, the game, the exit of the game, the post game, and the post-post game.

Combine this with being able to walk into the room wearing nothing but a piece of lingerie, and not be noticed (even during a post-game or pre-game show).. I began to really hate football.

Just the sound of the game in the background got my hackles up.

Soon regular NFL wasn’t enough. There was the sports packages, the NFL packages, the no-one-cares old NFL game packages.. and then he got into college football. He wanted to decorate the living room in Saint’s football stuff as well.

Football played 24/7 in the house. I honestly half the time didn’t know if the game he was watching was “the game” or just some rerun or not.  So I didn’t know if I should be nice and not interrupt or if I was free to interrupt. I was supposed to just “know”.. you know..

So now there’s a crapload of pain and anger about football and the good memories were drowning in it.  But I am healing.

At the start of this football season (and even before that) the mere mention of football, and I’d tense up. I’d get twinges of anxiety, anger, and hatred.

The other night on the phone, when asked about the SuperBowl, I discovered I wasn’t angry. I really hadn’t been angry when football was mentioned in weeks.. or maybe months.

I still don’t like the Saints, but I now can hear that word and the “Who Dat” without wanting to punch something.

Baby Steps.

Do’s And Don’ts of Splitting

So I ran across this blog article today, and it set me off.  It’s all about the Do’s and Don’ts of breaking up, by Cereal Daters.

Which honestly, there are good ways and bad ways to break up. Ways to do it with the least damage to other person, and with the friendship you had somewhat still intact.

And it takes communication to do it.

This article, to me, is all that is wrong with breaking up… ok.. not all.. just some.

The article first states: “Don’t Tell Him“- which I assume is don’t tell him why you’re splitting, because not telling him you’re breaking up with him is just way too immature for words.

So let me address the “don’t give him the reasons”.. Depending on who you’re dating, reasons may or may not be needed. Some people really need them for closure. Sure leave off the stupid stuff that you know is going to light a fire (aka he leaves the seat up, his hairy ass is disgusting, or whatever) but explaining that the relationship is no longer good for you.. isn’t a bad idea. Whatever you do, make it clear that you’re moving on. Period. But do try to be nice about it, this is someone you used to care for. Treat them accordingly.

Next “Do Tell Your Homegirls” –  Do tell your friends that you’ve split. Do not however bad mouth him to them unless you can back it up. Slander and rumors are never cool. Roasting him just because you no longer want to be his girlfriend/lover will only bite you in the ass later.. not to mention makes you look petty and bitter.

Don’t play mom” – A girlfriend should never ever play mother to a man. Sorry. However, if you’ve been together for a while, and he truly needs your help with something that only you can help with.. Help him out. If he’s making crap up like he needs you to help him change his tire, give him the number to a towing company and be done with it.  But if you’ve been together for a while, and his mother tragically dies soon after you’ve broken up and he wants you there for moral support (and you knew his family).. then be there.. platonically. No snuggling. No kissy. No pookie/sweety. If he’s throwing those kind of cards, walk out. You do need to stand your ground that its over.

Don’t hang on to any sentimental items” – You had good times. You had bad times. No one is 100% bad 100% of the time. You’re going to have sentimental things. You’re going to grieve for the loss of those good times. Throwing away anything that reminds you of those good times seems a little overkill, but having a housefull of momentos isn’t healthy either. Pick a few good memories to keep if you’d like (especially anything of re-wearable value – aka jewelry) and pack them away some place that you’ll see them much less.

Don’t convince yourself that you’re over-reacting” – WTF? This process should already be hashed out prior to saying goodbye. You made a choice. Stick to it. Remember your reasons for splitting. Take notes. Learn from your mistakes so you don’t do the same things in your next relationship.

Do cut off all forms of communication” – Whoah dawgies. Do you seriously have some hate on for this guy? What did he do? Do not do this for most people that you break up with. This is only needed if the person is unhealthy to have in your life in any way.  Aka drug dealer, drug addict, bad alcoholic, criminal behavior, etc. or you’re actually afraid for your life. (or in cases where the person has gone completely nutso and is now harassing and stalking you.)

Going this extreme with someone sane and loving, is a good way to get them to bad mouth you to everyone they know. Everyone they meet in the future… thats a lot of people. A lot of potential dates.  Its a small world out there. Watch out what bridges you’re burning.

Don’t think its okay to hang around mutual friends” – Friends are important. They will pick which side they’re on. Of course, you’re not going to be able to tell these friends all the sordid details of your breakup, save that for your own friends.  But don’t throw the mutual friends out yet.  Once the breakup is done, you may find they’re just as fun as they ever were.

I do agree with her on her last statement though..

Do be strong… this is always easier said than done.”

My main advice for breaking up … is simple.  Be nice. Be compassionate. Listen, but be unmovable. You’ve made up your mind. Stick to it. Wavering will only cause you and them much more heartbreak.

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