Monthly Archives: March 2010

my mother, my yenta

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Having gone through dating for so long and having so many many failures, my mother has decided she needs to intervene with my dating life. You know at this point I’ve not done the best for myself and who is better than my mom to filter out the douche bags? It used to have a much nastier meaning (like an old bitter gossiping bitch) but over the years, the term “yenta” has come to mean a female Jewish matchmaker (Thank you, Fiddler on the Roof) and now my mother has become my yenta.

I can’t view any dating sites at work – everything is blocked. Since mom is yenta now, I’ve given her all my logins and passwords for my various profiles so she checks in daily and then calls me at work to deliver the news of the latest batches. You can imagine that since she’s searching for a future son-in-law and that since I’m her only daughter that my mother is… how shall we say? Well, she’s lethal. I have my very own Patty Stanger and then some. I’ve taken to writing down some of her comments (and yes, she knows I’m blogging this):

“Oh God, this one can’t spell. SHIT CANNED!”

“Oh boy, rosey cheeks and tiny short bangs. Men should not have bangs. It’s just not right. NEXT!”

“You would think these guys would take more flattering pictures if they’re looking for love. This one looks like he’s been out of half-way houses his whole life. And here he is drinking and smoking. Yeah I don’t think so.”

“This one… wait, whats his name? MANDRELL? Thats really his name? Isn’t that from Harry Potter? Fail.”

“This one is shouting to the rooftops about his affection for Disney. Never too old for Disney? Wrong. Wait, which one is he? Oh he’s the big mouth. He doesn’t know he’s gay yet. Maybe you should enlighten him.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. You look okay, but you can’t speak. How hard is this? It’s the written word. It’s out there. Try it.”

“This one is holding up an award about him self. Oh next picture he feels the need to distinguish himself from the woman in the photo as though you couldn’t point out the man in that scenario. PLEASE. Next!”

“This latest one… oh honey. He’s a Jewish lilliputian… and upon further investigation might be closeted as well. NEXT!”

“Our next prince is into magic, massages, and oh dear God, he’s wearing a cape. A CAPE! And he cant live without his journal?? He’s a woman! No. No Ben from Bethesda.”

“There’s no meat in this match. You need meat.”

“You could look at him, but he’s got little lips. I dont like little lips. Not that I’m the one kissing them, but I know you don’t like little lips.”

“What is with these males? Our next bachelor is posing in front of his plug in menorah! Yay! Oh the eyebrows. Wait till you see the eyebrows. *a full minute of uproarious laughter* Oh dear dear dear. God love him, he may need a boyfriend. I dunno if he has rouge on cheeks or what but he’s also got a … what do we call it? Peter Pan Renn Fest outfit [inaudible and laughing] and then a pic with a kitty cat. Oh fuck, as though that were not enough, he’s passionate about LIVE THEATER! He needs some cluing in.”

Convo between us:
Her: Why does eharmony keep matching you up with dwarf jews?
Me: Because I’m a giant and that’s how life works. Thank you for breeding with a farm boy full of stocky genetics.
Her: I like that you’re a giant! I want a big tall son-in-law.

Another:
Her: He’s got a Shar Pei for a head.
Me: What the hell does that mean?
Her: You know, a deep wrinkly head full of wrinkles. Like the dog.
Me: Oooooh Okay. Thank you for clarifying.

See? She’s lethal!

At least I can look forward to the funny moments at work when I’m having a bad day. Meanwhile I’m in dating hell. I get to a certain point and then I lose interest. Either my mother’s incredibly high standards are starting to get to me or I have *gasp* finally realized that I might just deserve more. Maybe I finally think a little bit higher of myself than before. Then again, I’m not as picky. My mom has high standards because Hello! She’s my mom! She’s looking out for her baby.

So I keep looking and I keep bringing her matches (or the websites do) and then we go from there. I’ve paid for 3 sites and I think I might finally pay for match.com since that one has a guarantee and actually has some decent matches now. We’ll see. I prefer to be a cheap bastard and let my mom do the work as my yenta.

If she fails, I’m going to find a real one and actually pay for it. Look forward to more posts like this. I guarantee that she will have more colorful commentary in the days/weeks to come.

from chaos comes clarity

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Passover yesterday (yes, we did it a day early) with my family was rough. Usually this is a holiday I look forward to all year, but this was my first solo Passover in many years. Just when I thought I had a grasp of the entire break up situation, a holiday came along and knocked me on my ass. It took all of 15 minutes before I was in tears and had mom acting fast with a glass in my hand “chug this” and then another “chug this one too”. You know what happens when you haven’t eaten in over 24 hours and you chug two glasses of wine? Instant zombie! That was significantly easier than dealing with anything else.

You don’t realize how much you miss a person until you’re stuck facing something alone. It didn’t help that my family was asking about him, about “the new guy” aka [Dipshit rebound Guy] and then about dating. I would have given quite a bit to have had my brother there to diffuse everything for me. At one point my mom acted fast and starting talking about the dating nightmares which actually made it easier. She’s serving as my yenta now so we had some great shtick between us and had everyone laughing. Then it was time for matzoball soup and who can talk when you have that glorious concoction in front of you??

Driving home in the pouring rain talking to D about her new flame didn’t help as much as I thought it would. I walked Nola in the rain and thought it all out. All I can do is remind myself that even if I begged him back and crawled on my hands and knees, I’d still be missing major components in my life that I need. I can look past every single thing with him except for one. That one thing is that the man could never tell me he loved me. I know he has issues, but after 2.5 years he still couldn’t say it so whats to say he ever would? I couldn’t wait around for that. I need love. I need real honest to God love that flows freely and without hesitation. Eventually I’m sure I would have gotten pregnant again and eventually he would have resolved to get married because of that, but that’s not what I want! I want someone who WANTS to marry me and someone who WANTS to have babies with me. Someone who CAN love me.

So I keep reminding myself of this in order to make the gut wrenching pain a little easier to bear. I keep reminding myself of why I left so that I won’t drive over to his house and beg him to take me back. It’s helping.

Unfortunately between these two men, my stomach has been in utter chaos. My head too. I don’t get migraines very often but I found myself facing one head on Saturday during my date with some guy and then another one around 2am this morning that didn’t give way until around 10am. I called in sick for half a day and need to get my ass to work in a few minutes even though I’m really not feeling it. I can’t let the rest of my life suffer though just because my head is royally fucked.

Gotta keep on keepin’ on. Eventually I will and thankfully I have this blog to keep pouring my head and heart into.

text this

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Dating is hell.

I don’t remember it being this way a few years ago when I was out there throwing myself at the altar of the dating Gods. This is not exactly a new experience for me. I mean after Ryan (the first one) I went into a bit of an exile and moved to Maryland with my grandparents. (Incidentally, that was one of the greatest years of my life.) Then I went into slut mode because quite frankly I had zero positive sexual experience and I was free. Thats how I got into blogging and how most of you “met” me.

Then I tried dating. I mixed the slutting and dating up for 4 years before I met Chet. Yeah, you read that right. It was FOUR years between Ryan and Chet. You would think I’d have a grasp of this whole internet dating thing but every time I throw myself back out there, I feel like something changes.

Since when do we begin a relationship of cellphones in lieu of a short phone call? What the fuck is this text messaging obsession every man has now? Did I miss a memo some where? I’m not clever on text. I’m not witty. I can’t text nearly as fast as I can run my mouth and I can’t get my point across in 160 characters or less. You can’t gauge a person’s interest either when they’re texting because you literally do that anywhere. How do I know you’re not in the mens room poppin’ a squat when you’re texting me? There’s romance!

Oh and better question… how do you know if the guy got your last message without saying “did you get that?” every two seconds? This has happened with umm… 5 guys now? 6? Fuck if I know. It’s getting confusing and I’ve resorted to nicknaming them in my phone based on location, profession, or stand out character trait. If I had the slightest amount of creativity left in me, I’d find a creative way to say “pick up the phone, douche!”

One guy’s excuse for why he prefers texting is “I answer the phone for a living” Oh really? In that case, you should be well versed in the ways of verbal communication. I texting him for 4 days before I finally told him I couldn’t keep it up. He said he understood and that was the end of it. He was already sketchy though… I mean who suddenly has plans for two weeks when a day before they didnt? Something was fishy and I have to wonder if dude was either rotating multiple females or if he was seeing someone. Either way, I’m glad I used the texting as an excuse because something just wasn’t kosher.

Another one just flat out wouldn’t answer when I tried calling. Some how we figured out he works right near me and suddenly his interest was piqued because now his commute would shorten. I shit you not, he said this to me. Yeah, thats the foundation of a good relationship: convenience! Then I KNOW he mixed me up with some other female because he suddenly mentioned sharing a bed. I did not mention a bed in any of my texts. You sir, fail. Grand old fuck you to that. I ignored his texts from there on out. Took him 3 days to get that memo. We’ll see if I hear from him again or not. I’m hoping for not.

Another one I managed to catch on IM for a brief moment in time, then he upped it to texting. On a particularly rough night in the Dumb Fuck Larry saga (all of which has since been deleted from this blog because I don’t want to even think about how stupid I was), this guy tells me he’s visiting his parents in Heathsville and when he said that, I about hit the roof. That’s right near where Dumb Fuck Larry is from so I made it a point to make that fucker call me to confirm he had no idea what I was talking about. Once I figured out dude was kinda vapid and less than intelligent, I regretted the call. The convo was rapid fire and dude would not shut up until he abruptly cut me off. Then he texted for two more days before I gave up. Haven’t heard from him since.

So again I ask: what the FUCK is this texting shit? I fucking hate it! I upped my plan to unlimited because it was only $5 more and because Larry about put me over the edge on that one in just two weeks so I kinda had to. Then I met the string of text machines so it was a good thing I covered my ass. An insanely high phone bill is not worth it, especially when it goes nowhere.

Why must we drag out the emailing too? Why not say “okay, I like your profile, dig the pictures, we’ve got some sort of chemistry via phone/text… so let’s meet up” and then fucking meet already? I HATE dragging it out and I hate getting emotionally invested in something that ends up not matching in person. I give it a few days of communication before I decide if we should meet up for coffee or something. I mean what’s the damn point in dragging it out?

And here’s something else… how the hell do you still have the exact same profile today that I saw 3 fucking years ago? Yeah, if I can recognize your photo in a line up of hundreds then there’s a reason. Clearly the reason is you lack creativity and don’t know how to operate a camera. That or you’ve changed drastically in those few years and have chosen just your best angles. Speaking of photos, I don’t want to see your car, your house, group photos as ALL your photos, your dog, or a photo of you drinking. Drinking in more than one? Really? This is the image we want to present to potential mates? FAIL.

Oh! And facebooking me. Seriously? Yeah I don’t think so buddy. My facebook page has entirely too much information on it that I don’t care to share with some random fool. You don’t need to check out my family and friends before we even meet. I don’t even like how much work shit is on there.

Oy. It’s a head spinning world out there. I don’t quite remember it being this way either. Then again, I didn’t really text message until I got a smartphone. I also didnt have much need of a phone since half way through our relationship, Chet didn’t have one. Yeah, I got a little bit TOO used to that fact and after a while I kind of liked the no phone thing. Now I’m in a texting universe and I want out! Next guy who asks to facebook me or asks if I text is going to the bottom of the pile.

I have no interest in dating a cellphone. End of discussion.

eye see you

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Friday basically sucked and I was a very unhappy camper. Chet finally replied to an email and we had a decent exchange about getting his aquarium back to him (long story not worth telling) and it was bizarre that he was being so nice to me. Or at least I thought he was being nice until I had my friend Tony read them and he said “that’s nice?” Suddenly I realized how skewed my view has been for the last few years. To say I felt confused for the next few hours would be an understatement. I was kinda grumpy until I got home and saw that my dog was happy to see me. Pets = happy.

So after I changed out of my work clothes and into my loungey clothes, I went to play with Nola and she, in return, decided it was time to go into dipshit crazy mode. She rolled onto her back, kicked her legs, and I didn’t move fast enough before WHAM! Kick to the head and punch to the eye. I figured I’d just been scratched to shit except suddenly I felt this trickle of blood and then the trickle turned into a gush and woah there, my face is covered in blood. Yay!

Turns out numbnuts scratched my eyelid and split it wide open. It was a pretty deep cut too and I’m lucky that it didn’t take my eye out, scratch my eye, or do anything else. I went to rinse my lid as well as grab a towel and some ice. It was pretty bad so after a quick change of clothes and a hunt for my insurance card, it was off to urgent care. Lucky me, it’s literally right down the road about 3 miles. Despite being a walk-in, they took me right back and by then the bleeding had stopped but the throbbing began.

I was lucky and didn’t need stitches. They used this stuff called “dermabond” which is basically super glue for your skin and sealed me right up. I was in and out of there in 45 minutes exactly. It was a hell of an ending to an already bad day.

Naturally I took pictures post-clean up. Not too bad, but not pretty either so I won’t post them on this, but you can view here. Today of course my entire eyelid is purpley pink and swollen as fuck. I’m not entirely sure I want to share that photo. Lets just say it’s not pretty, but I think I’ll have a wicked awesome scar soon!

wtf?

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I know my twitter has been kind of cryptic. I’m sure it’s a great big WTF??? to everyone. So let me sum up.

Last weekend I had my first real date since leaving Chet. The date itself was meh. It left me feeling like maybe I’d made the wrong choice and oh fuck? Was it too late to get Chet back???? Yeah well after I regained my senses and pulled my head out of my ass, I went to bed. I woke up the next morning and called my mom. We had a good conversation and then I told her

“Mom, I could wake up tomorrow, meet the man of my dreams, and be married in 6 months.” She said “stranger things have happened.”

5 hours later, I met Larry…

EDIT: and then I deleted this rest of this post because he turned out to be a rebound and a douchebag and no one needs to read about that. I also deleted everything that went along with him. It was way too fast, way too sudden, and I was way too vulnerable. I fell for a lie because it was easy and it was the exact opposite of my entire relationship with Chet. But who hasn’t done this at some point? Oh well… it ended and I deleted his existance from my life. The end.

my outlook

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Every one on earth can bitch about how awful their life is. Every one has a sob story. Every person has had “the worst year ever!”

You know what else every one has? The ability to shut the fuck up, get through the emotion of the situation, and grow from it. Obviously some things take longer than others to recover from, but really it all comes down to how you handle it in your head. The better you handle it and the better grasp you have of reality, the faster life rebounds. Ever notice how negativity begets negative or annoying people around you? You attract it. Same with positivity and a smile plastered to your face.

I won’t lie – I’ve had some fucking shitty years and had more than my fair share of heartache, disappoinment, death, and pain. The best thing you can do it either move forward and force yourself to find some thing, some tiny shred of positivity, from the experience or to remember the good times. I won’t say I’m perfect at this, but the more I practice, the better I get. It’s not easy. Some times you have to fake it till you make it. I can honestly say that faking an orgasm is a fuck of a lot easier than faking happiness, but I can also say that faking the happiness helped me discover other methods of dealing with things. And maybe it’s not so much faking happiness as it was just not being a bitch and not being angry all the time. I think it was more of a gradual process of angry > silent > blank > calm > happy.

So it’s not a perfect method, but I was at the end of my rope and had to figure out an alternative method because there was no way the people around me would change. You can’t ever expect someone to change – you can only change yourself and how you react.

This all started with Chet because I learned really fucking fast that if I started pitching a fit that the man would dodge a fight by up and leaving. Just pick and haul ass right out the door in a matter of 30 seconds and then cut me off for days. No contact whatsoever. Hindsight being 20/20, I can see how utterly immature this is, but have chosen to see how extremely fast it forced me to change the way I approached him. It changed everything when he initially broke up with me around the holidays. THAT was fun. Eventually we got back together and it was one of the harder things in my life to do. Yes, something so simple was damn near impossible to deal with.

Things constantly happened with us. I found out after a while that I was dealing with an extremely damaged man who had absolutely no ability to express his emotions. (I’m not 100% sure he truly had all those emotions either to tell you the truth.) In finding that out, I had to change the way I reacted and interacted with him. That’s what love does – it forces you to accept someone for who they are and work with it.

The problem is, I also began to realize the love was one-sided. I foolishly figured it would evolve and he would one day figure out that oh hey, I have an amazing woman in front of me. Better reel her in. But then… he just gave up.

Anyway, the point is that I started to change my outlook on things with Chet and then decided if I could handle him, I could handle anything. I started applying it elsewhere and then even included it in my working routine. After 3.5 years my overbearing ogre of a boss was suddenly less of a monster to me. I could finally visualize the end of our working relationship and just calmed the fuck down. What was the point in arguing with him and being miserable every single day??? Same with Chet – what was the fucking point of arguing if I got absolutely NOWHERE? I sure as shit didn’t feel better when I yelled because nothing changed.

And some people will never be effected by how you change – only by themselves. Chet never changed, my boss never changed, my father never will change… but I did and now? Now I’m one happy human being. None of that shit even phases me half the time. Deadlines at work are less stressful and I don’t get nearly as angry with my coworkers as I ever did.

Because I dealt with stubborn, angry, overbearing assholes on a daily basis, I became a stronger, happier, more well-balanced human being. My outlook completely changed.

a fresh start

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I’ve had many incarnations of this blogging thing. I always felt the need to separate one side of myself from another. Some times I was forced to. Other times it was by choice.

Well fuck that. Not any more.

I live alone in a 2 bedroom apartment in a suburb of DC up in Northern Virginia. I have a dog and two cats that I love and adore. I have the worlds most amazing mother. I have a crazy family that I love despite their flaws. I have an interesting past. I have a bright future.

I believe in love, God, fate, karma, reincarnation, good, evil, light, dark, and myself. I will freely express any of this any time I want to.

This is my life and I’m ready for the unabridged full fledged first edition version of it. Are you? If you are, by all means you’re welcome to read it. If you just want to criticize, your opinion will be null and void.

Either way, here I am.