Category Archives: Dating

Oh Valentines Day…

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1

It’s no secret that I love love. I love all things love and all things lovely. No amount of heartache will ever change that, whether that makes me stupid, delusional or painfully optimistic or not? I’m determined to not let the assholes that cross my path, change me.

Introspection is worth it, for the right guy. For the right Valentine? I’d tattoo hearts across my inspired ass.

Hence my heart-free derriere…

I woke up with a knee in my back and a cute little arm flung across my neck. My coconut and strawberry scented princess was instantly chatty upon waking up.

I- Mommy…. are you ok? You haven’t said that much about your trip.

J- There’s not much to say. It didn’t work out.

I- Good. He wasn’t cute enough by a long shot.

Oh how your babies can say to your face what everyone else whispers behind your back…

She ran for the shower and her cute little heart print headband while I stared at the ceiling and took a moment to hate this stupid commercial bullshit holiday. Ten minute pity party pause… followed by heart shaped chocolate chip pancakes, heart shaped sandwiches for her lunch and the perfect love note.

“Roses are red, violets are purple… Boys are weird. Happy Valentine’s Day, I love you- xoxo Mom”

I see her walk out of the bathroom, and smile. This is my center. My focus. My happy place. This mommy drenched morning full of hand knit hearts and whipped cream in a can painting her pancakes with even more hearts. Heart shaped banana slices… why not? Nevermind she doesn’t like bananas- lol… it’s the visual I’m after… a side effect of too many years as a graphic designer.

Her life should be dripping in hearts and flowers every day, but definitely today if I have anything to say about it. It makes me ten times happier than some perfunctory dozen roses showing up from some “collector”.

She smiles at me and I ignore her mascara and pink lip gloss for a change. She knows I see it and appreciates the effort I’m making to let her grow up a little… after having learned that you can’t stop it even if you try and it only makes them resent you. I can live with her pretty red eyelashes being painted black… even if I cringe a little at her beauty flying all over the place.

I walked back into my room to throw a sweatshirt over my running gear and found a little red heart folded on my pillow.

I sat on the edge of my bed and fought back tears before I even touched it. It sat there just taunting me, because I know she’s left it for me to find after I take her to school, but I can’t help myself. I reached for it and stopped. Smooth elementary school construction paper, all folded by the sweetest person I’ve ever known… for me.

Proof that I’m doing something right, even if I forget sometimes and let doubt creep in.

Reading it I nearly peed my pants laughing.

“Roses are red, violets are blue, he looked old enough to be your dad and that’s just creepy”

I came out laughing holding it and she looked down laughing.

I- Sorry… someone had to say it. Mama… I know you loved the guy, but….

J- Honey love is love. Real love, loves it all. Real love doesn’t need perfection.

I- Nope, it just IS, and this wasn’t. End of story, sharpen your pencils.

Some way, some how… I’ve managed to raise this child to demand more than mediocre. I’ve taught her the value in real truth and eyes-wide-open faith based in reality- not some pipe dream of roses and diamonds.

I have a dozen diamonds. I have an acre of flowers every year. I plant my own garden and decorate my own soul…. but more than all that?

I’m a mommy. I’ve spent 3 1/2 years of my life breastfeeding. I love babies and I love the simplest pleasures life has to offer. You can paint a permanent smile on my face with a daisy yanked out of the lawn.

Intention is everything with me, and if anything, I strive to outdo the people in my life when it comes to expressing my love…. so I’m knitting little red hearts, and I’m baking little heart cookies I’ll frost with little messages designed to show the people who really show me what real love is, that it is ultimately returned and appreciated.

I’m that girl. That one who refuses to be defeated by someone who would love nothing more than to shut my mouth with threats when the love was tangible just days ago…

I cannot be silenced because I loved with my whole heart. I threw all my cautious feelings out the window and got my terrified ass on a plane. I rolled the dice on love, and lost, again.

And?

I learned a very powerful lesson.

Love is right in your own backyard…

It’s in the people that leave you little love notes on their checks after you bring them their dinner.

It’s in the child that writes you a funny Valentine.

It’s in the friends that are thankful to have you home, alive, safe & sound.

It’s in your healthy vices that keep your heart beating and faithful enough to know that real love exists… and more than anything?

That it doesn’t hurt.

That it doesn’t jump to conclusions.

That it exists purely so that the rest of us who seek it, know to continue- because there are examples of it here and there. I have a girlfriend who said it best the other day…

F- The leap is worth the fall . When it finally works, it’s worth the risk.

I feel the same way. I accept this defeat on a personal and intimate level, and I appreciate the lesson. I have learned more in the last 7 days that I have in the last year. That’s a little staggering.

I have little heart chocolates left in my purse… flowers left at the door… and arms open to hug me in every direction.

I am loved so deeply I knew immediately when it wasn’t that type of love. My Bestie told me when I was leaving that I shouldn’t go. That he hoped it was the biggest mistake I’d ever make and that he’d be there for me when it went bad.

I was furious at him at the time… and now I’m just thankful. They’ve all safeguarded me since I got home. My mom is especially outspoken and she’s been silently loving.

So the arrow broke off in my heart. So I bled out a little… so I’m a little naive <or a lot> and I loved every moment that it was good? I’m still confused, but I’m surrounded by so much love I can’t be anything but thankful.

I’m exempt from Cupid this year. I’ve done my time recently enough that he has to leave me alone.

I bought some roses, I have a pound of Godiva truffles… and I have a beautiful young man willing to drive a few hours to make sure I’m smiling.

No heartache. No judgements. Something so simple as a cupcake and a glass of wine.

Love that begs for time… because nothing is more precious. It could be Boise, Idaho… Provo, Utah…Albuquerque, New Mexico. or Las Vegas, Nevada… Manhattan NYC… it doesn’t really matter.

He’ll come walking in smiling, dropping his jacket, his shirt… his everything… with my bottom lip in his teeth, laughing and begging him to be careful of the scissors in my apron… He’ll have coffee in one hand and daffodils in the other… and it’ll be pretty hard to feel sorry for myself.

Happy Valentine’s day, y’all… Make the most of it or die trying.

♥

Oh Stella…

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I miss him like crazy… but…

after every single person I’ve talked to has looked me in the face and laughed…

E- You’ve got to be kidding Jen… you’re not stupid. Shake it off. You and your stupid courageous heart. Get your ass in the game.

I walked in shaky to my first night back at work, thankfully covered by my co-workers who have seen how devastated I was by this “magical” vacation. They pour me a glass of wine. My dear Smartypants and my dear Bestie play Trivia with me while I recover. Broken and in need of a million man march around me. I’m scared. I’m twice as jaded and ten times as distrustful.

This week has taught me about the type of guy that damages you from the inside out… like a shitty microwave oven from the 1980′s.

These noncommittal men in my life have never looked so good.

We lose by a few points and they tug me across the street with them to fill the cracks in my heart with gin…. hmmm… no flood is working, and my Fearless friend walks up to me and smiles.

F- Happy Birthday… and she shoves a pretty man towards me, who is smiling at me like the Cheshire cat.

He smiles at me. Sparkly blue green eyed beauty. He takes his hat off and kisses my cheek and he’s shiny bald.

H- I’d like to make your day better.

Yeah… that’s what it’s like to be single. He’s beautiful… and I”m so fucking over it as my Nightmare torments me all day long.

I ripped out the stitches for the bunny I was knitting for him… I still wanted to make it… out of love and because he’d asked and because I’m just “THAT” girl. Kick me… I need it.

Because while he was sending me the “I adore you and can’t wait to see you” emails… he was sending them elsewhere. Funny how that Nathan effect kicks in and they all come dripping out of the woodwork? Weird. Again… I clearly have a type.

So.

NO MORE. No Men. Nothing. I’m going to torture the masses with my highly sexually frustrated body and exploit them for tips. Fuck men, but not literally. I’d rather have to see Mr. Sketchy McVirgin Islandpants again.

Yeah, you got a pants nickname. Try me. I have more reasons to fuck with you than any. Go for it. The difference in being a decent person is that there are people that give a shit about me, unlike you.

Lie to me? Cheat on me? Make me suffer months of sexual frustration waiting to see you <lmao… yeah right… lol…>

You fell into everything everyone thought you’d be. Less than…. or even worse? Dangerous. When drinking you were embarrassing to spend time with. The bartenders apologized to me. The men surrounding you circled in and bought drinks for me. It’s your fault my drink was drugged if you didn’t drug it yourself.

The jury is out, since you’ve done nothing but blame me since you’ve had cold hard proof my drink was drugged. What guy acts like that?

The guilty one.

I’ve had a laundry list of women email me today to tell me they were in the same situation as me with him… and wow… what a guy. He has the balls to tell me I ruined my daughters life by not being his high paid trophy wife?

He lost it all when he lost me. I loved him regardless that I’ve dated men half his age. I overlooked a lot. I was satisfied and I loved him completely…

Then shit went haywire and he blamed me…

So my dear friend handed me an early birthday gift. A 30 year old bald man in cuff links and dress shoes. Smiling at me. Asking me where he could drive me…

Hmmm… mmm.. hm… haa …hmmm ha… hmmm…

Well then. I’d love to say I’m really broken up about the whole thing… but I’m really not.

Faith, honesty and kindness aren’t optional and no matter what… sweet beats asshole every day in my book.

He smiled at me and buckled my seatbelt. He asked me if I needed anything on the way home <chocolate milk> and then he kept me up all night telling me bedtime stories.

lol…

Stella doesn’t waste a second in getting her groove back.

Unforgiven.

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A positive test isn’t enough. Asking for forgiveness isn’t either… he’s just gone. Unsubscribed from my blogs even. Ouch.

More than gone, I wonder if I ever knew him to begin with. We had four days in paradise and one night in hell, and he can only be angry at me. The text messages are crushing. He can only tell me I’ve ruined my daughters life by what happened. He can’t understand. He can’t forgive. He can’t even open himself up to the idea of it all.

He can’t. He’s angry, and he hates me, and he can’t understand that this is something that happened to both of us. He feels I painted his pain in a light too friendly to myself.

I tell him the same thing every time.

J- I love you. I’m so sorry. If I could turn back time I would and none of this would have happened. If I could fix this, I would do anything.

His story changes on a dime, and he has no idea what happened any more than I do. He’s too proud to get a drug test, of that much, I know for sure.

It was magic…with a few major red flags.

He wasn’t at the airport when I got there… which floored my mom when I told her.

M- Honey as nervous as you were, you’d have slept in your car in the airport parking lot to make sure to be there when he landed.

He became someone else when he drank. Someone else entirely. Aggressive, flirtatious, disrespectful… Scary. The first time I’ve been truly regretful of getting in the car with someone. He smiled at me and took his glasses off and put them in the center console. I was in a flat panic…. but we made it back alright. He snapped his fingers and clapped for the waiter. He hit on other women, walking away from me to approach them. Hanging out with Tommy was no picnic.

Totally opposite of the knight in shining armor he was during the day. Something I tried to reconcile with him but he was just mad we’d come back early and wouldn’t talk to me. Second to last night we were there.

Everything was fine in the morning and we weren’t out of bed until after noon. Agreeing to a truce to the all-out war in the sheets neither of us were willing to tap out of. Best sex of my life- hands down.

Intimate conversations that will forever make me love him. I love a different man than the one he’s become so quickly. Mistakes aren’t optional with him and no matter what I’ve said or done it’s not enough. I would do more, but I’ve done it all.

All he can do is shame me, and tell me to look at my daughter and know that I killed her when I killed him, and that our love meant nothing to me.

I don’t know where to go with that…

Because I didn’t stop loving him, and I did what I could to get to the bottom of the whole nightmare… and I simply can’t do another thing besides let him go.

It was like Haley’s Comet in my love life. Here and gone in a flash… but changing the landscape nonetheless. He made me want more… and he loved me like none other. It was amazing- and I still smile when I look at the pictures… and I refuse to regret him. I miss him constantly… but the him that would have been right there and worried about me. The man who held my hand while we walked down the street. The man I kissed at the end of the pier on our last night. I miss him desperately.

But he’s gone…. and I’m left wondering if he were ever really there. I’m not his 6′ blonde 20 year old self-proclaimed type. I’m a curvy 5’4 if I’m an inch… perhaps he was disappointed and took the easy way out? My boyfriend died that night. He vanished right in front of my eyes.

In his place is the other victim in this situation. He can’t forgive me and he has every right, but the counselor I spoke to was very clear about it.

C- You can’t get over this until you quit being blamed for everything. This ruined your relationship, you paid a huge price and this was done to you too.

I hear this from everyone but him. He’s the only one who can’t get past it or forgive me. As is his right. He’s just gone… like a ghost… or a shooting star that blazed through my life. Either way it changed me and I learned valuable lessons.

My friends look at me and ask the real questions…

F- So you don’t know any of his people. No mutual friends, just online and gone? He met you elsewhere so he didn’t have to claim you if it didn’t work out. Easily discarded. Maybe he’s just looking at this as an opportunity for an easy break because he doesn’t have it in him? No other guy would act like this otherwise, and definitely not one who prides himself on being protective and masculine. You’ve got proof and you were together and neither remember much. Come on…

F2- I’m sorry, but you don’t need saving. You’re a damn good mom and you’re just fine by yourself. Isn’t that what attracted him to you in the first place? That girl full of moxie that pulls up her big girl panties every once in a while and puts her foot down? Where are your feet, for fuck’s sake?

F3- Remember, Romeo and Juliet only met like, three times, and he probably would have been a douche bag, and now they’re both dead.

LMFAO… this is what I mean when I say I’m blessed.

Raw love wrapped in hugs and kisses from the people who love me truly. Words carefully chosen to remind me of what I already do.

I’m ok.

He’s ok.

We’re ok.

We’re just not meant to be.

Things were fine and funny…silly and sexy… and in one split second- over.

Whoa.

If you can’t stand the heat…

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Then you ask me to password protect it ♥

It got the point across to whom it was intended to offend- and well… it takes a lot to bare your soul to the world, and the beauty of blogging is having the luxury of pulling the plug.

Write drunk, edit sober… even when you’re purely drunk on heartache. My Lovely friend was a little blown away by the instantaneous response. She’s still bleeding at the heart a little, and the betrayal is still so fresh. I love her so much, and I know how she’s feeling. You just have to suffer through the hell of it, unfortunately. Nothing much will help, other than time.

Men who juggle women deserve to get their balls ripped off… and verbally? I come pretty close. I’ve suffered through the worst of them, and I know all too well what disappointment and betrayal feel like. I think we all can relate… unfortunately.

He doesn’t take responsibility for it, in any situation. Cheaters are universal in that he will always blame something about you for why he couldn’t be faithful. I’ve learned a lot about the difference in men in the last year. There are two types. Assholes & Amazing. That’s the real black and white of it. He either gives a shit about his personal character and the quality of himself as a man… or he doesn’t.

If he doesn’t, then he juggles women dishonestly. He’s not concerned with his integrity or being true to his word. He’s selfish, and looking out for what you can do for him, not thinking for a second about who the man in your life should be. He knows you’re amazing… and that doesn’t even slow him down. He’s an Asshole, and I can spot one a mile away…. mostly because I’ve dated them so often. I’ve had my douche bag magnet removed and as a result, my standards have been raised to a nearly impossible super-human level.

I’ve been ruined for other men… because I’m a lucky girl who’s loved by Amazing.

Amazing calls. Amazing says exactly what he’s thinking/feeling/doing. He doesn’t have secrets because he doesn’t want you to keep any. He loves you deeply and out loud, without worrying about playing games… because it’s your heart he’s after and he’s determined to keep it. He doesn’t say mean things. He wakes you up with nice words and an undying desire to please you. Wherever you go in life, in any situation… when someone mentions him- you smile from your head to your toes. He can be late. He can forget to call…. but he doesn’t- because you mean the world to him and he’s determined to prove it every chance he gets.

But…

That whole Asshole thing can be attractive… a lesson taught to me repeatedly by a certain 25 year old I dated. I wasn’t used to having to convince someone to like or respect me. It’d always come naturally- because I’m so nice. I learned a lot from the situation and I can’t regret it… because when you’ve seen the worst of the worst? You learn what you aren’t willing to accept. You learn the real value of Amazing.

You know when you see it because it’s completely different from what you’ve seen before and it FEELS right.

It feels Amazing.

There are a lot of Assholes in Amazing clothing. A lot of them are difficult to spot… but for goodness sake when you find that you are the poor unsuspecting girl at the heart of the matter, surround yourself with your real friends.

Your real friends are the people that tell you what a douche bag he is, and beyond that? They tell him too. I have no time for friends in my life who want to befriend my exes. It’s a choice- make it- and be honest about it, because I’ll find out. I don’t tolerate disloyal people. I’ve filled my quota in the last year.

I’m too Amazing for all that. I’m too adored by Amazing and surrounded by Amazing friends. I’ve faced the heat and survived with a whole lot of wisdom to show for it. I’m focused on being as protective of myself as I am of my loved ones. I’m a damn fine woman and I’m finally acting like it. I’m also the friend you call to help you burn his house down, help you bury the body and bail you out, if need be.

I’m the friend who tells you the truth. I’m the friend that flips him off in your absence- because- in my opinion, everyone who loves you, should. I may end up sitting next to one of my friends in jail at some point, but I’ll never be the Judas who kisses the ass of the person who hurt her. There’s a lot of value in being a true friend, because it comes back to you a million times over.

Be Amazing…

There are plenty of assholes in the world. Don’t be a Mike.

The online dating epilogue…

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Come on… sing with me first:

Blow the whistle, baby you’re the referee….

I blew my book deal on self respect. I couldn’t bear a few more dates with crazy men. Yeah… I’m saying I’m better than all that- so shoot me. It took a year of dating men I wouldn’t even give a second glance in the grocery store, to gain that level of confidence.

In my year of internet dating, I saw some crazy, crazy shit. Some of which is still locked tight in the draft section of my blog. Some of which will hopefully never see the light of day, because I’d hate to be sued by Match.com like Oprah was sued by the cattle industry for hating on a burger…. cause I could shut that shit down with what I know now.

Apparently (nobody told me) the whole internet dating fiasco is set up for some glorified hook up network.

So let me start by saying that NOT ONCE did I ever have sex with an internet date. Never. First and foremost because thou shalt not fuck weird ill-adjusted weirdos… but more than that?

I wasn’t even the slightest bit tempted, ever.

I saw it all, y’all…. and admittedly I began to hand-pick the crazies, so I deserved some strange experiences toward the end. I began to use my online dating as writing material towards the end of the crazy run, with a publishing group hot on my tail, begging me for just a few more every time I turned in more of my documented suffering.

I chose the weirdest of the weird- so I know just how bad it really is, when it’s at it’s worst. I was the wife-swap producer of Match.com. I systematically chose my opposites, sent a few emails and sat back to watch the trains collide.

I shook the ants in the jar, if you will…. and I never made it easy.

I pulled out my A game. I wore fishnets and heels. Fake eyelashes became second nature and the bleach in my hair was as common as the fake smile on my ruby red lips.

I was propositioned, hit on, flirted with, stalked, insulted, preached to, parented, offered a job, AND solicited for garden advice.

Welcome to dating, crazy internet division…. and not for the faint of heart.

I had a few uneventful pleasant dates… but honestly? It was more fun to date the crazies. I’d given my heart to a man determined to be unavailable, and if I had to pass the time missing him, I preferred to not hurt the innocent.

So I dated the guilty.

1. The extremely elderly appearing Delta pilot who swore he was in his 40′s… hmm…. perhaps 20 years ago…. brought his dog along on our date and let it run around the restaurant. For the manner police, that’s right up there with robbing a bank on the way. I was too mortified to really hear what he was saying. He brought his homemade jerky and it damn near ripped a filling out. Goodness. When he made the awkward attempt to kiss me goodnight, I actually ducked and thanked God at the same time that he was so tall. Out loud.

2. I have a few favorites… but this guy was right up there. The wild African game hunter/ bible beating baptist. My favorite hand picked opposite-do-NOT-attract lunatic. He actually asked me how I felt about “Our Lord and savior, Jesus Christ” before my salad showed up. I understand being passionate. I understand deal breakers…. but come on Grandpa missionery… have some respect for privacy. I told him about my favorite magnet… and it was our only date. One of the only dates I ever left early.

I have a very private relationship with God. I don’t buy a lot of it…. but… I love being Catholic. I have strong Mormon roots. You can take the girl out of Utah but you can never really take the bee out of the hive. It feels like home when I go back… yet I’m far too outspoken to thrive there.

I’m genetically Mormon, raised Buddhist and Catholic by choice. Three details absolutely predetermined to annoy the Bible beating crazy wild animal hunting Baptist. The writing was on the wall, but for the first time, I told a date I was not interested in continuing the date. I told him I was leaving…. and I did.

Slowly… these weirdos taught me to speak up… and how to stand up for myself.

3. My date last Valentine’s Day was beyond crazy. He let me pick a restaurant, and met me there for dinner. He had two dozen white roses in his hands. I must have had a deer in the headlights look on my face because he hugged me hello with them in between us, shoving them towards me. He was about a foot shorter than he’d said… but was attractive and nice. Ish. Something was just…. suspect. He was completely wonderful. Impeccable manners, ordered for both of us- sigh… Hispanic maybe? I don’t know. With the exception of the awkward pile of roses on the bar next to me (he forgot to make a reservation)… it wasn’t that bad. Goose on the rocks X2… and he was pretty nice. He asked me if I wanted to get a drink after dinner and I agreed. He took the roses from me and grabbed my hand on the way to the car. Nice enough- ok… it seemed normal, if a little… early. Whatever. He opened my door- handed me the flowers. and shut it… nice touch. I was impressed. Shiny white Mercedes sends up a red flag… he’s in his late twenties, early thirties… which is awfully young for that sort of debt… I don’t know- I’ve learned too much in doing this for a year… I’m being judgey. He drives around the corner to the martini bar and parks.

I don’t really have time to silently chastise myself for jumping to assumptions before he practically rapes my face with his mouth. I could feel his teeth a half inch from my lips. My word. His hand reached for my thighs and I grabbed his wrist. He was insistent and for the first time in this whole escapade… I was afraid. I was thankful my friends were only a few steps away, and reached for the door handle while holding his wrist to keep it from creeping any higher. Yikes. I sent the preplanned “HELP” text and I was done with him in a matter of 20 minutes.

The fun part?

Two weeks later, I get a call from a screaming lunatic wife… his wife. The wife that wants to know why he has a credit card receipt for two on Valentine’s day, and my number on the roses he bought.

He bought her a vacuum… and frankly I’d trade her… but she was a little too ballistic to chat about a trade. Think of the look on his face if he came home and saw those roses though… lol… I’m mean like that when it comes to cheaters.

She kept insulting me so I told her the absolute details of our conversations, plans, date, and the face rape/mouth attack that occurred in the car. Bad idea… one mention of the car and the lady went over the deep end. I honestly expected to see his face on the news the next day- she was that irate. She thanked me and hung up… I got one text from him later that said “Thanks A LOT!” lol… uh… you’re welcome, Cheater McFaceRaperPants.

I truly have seen it all. I avoided the hippie faction after the last bad time- but other than that… I went on 18 dates.

18 First Dates… never a second… and granted I live in a small town, but I’m the nicest person in the world when it comes to accepting people for who and what they are. As long as you’re not an asshole- you are A OK with me. Let your freak flags fly however you like- I like unusual people.

But these weren’t unusual people. These were crazy people. Creepy sometimes. Scary sometimes. Always weird.

I am an internet dating flunkie- and it wasn’t for lack of interest. I put myself out there and my profile was viewed thousands of times… I got hundreds of emails… and sorted them carefully at times and recklessly at others.

You have to like someone to consider being romantically involved with them. You can’t do that with someone based on a photographs and some cheese-ball fill-in-the-blanks profile. You have to get to know them first… and most of the serial internet daters are all about the hook up.

I’ve seen the stories, read the news… etc. My aunt recently got engaged to someone she met online.

I fell in love at first write…  I come from a place of experience… I know it’s possible.

It does exist… but it’s not meant to be prepackaged and force fed. Figure out if he has a soul first and if you like it. Figure out who he is. BE CAREFUL.

Allow yourself to fall in love with the way he thinks…

But only if he does.

Oh and good luck…. you’ll need it.

….and thank the good Lord & Baby Jesus that my days on the online menu are over. <shudder>

Don’t even get me started on the Naked Man, the Police officer who ran my plates to get my phone number, and last, but not least…Dr. Cocktail Linky- who sent me pictures of his 2″ wang and continues to come in every Wednesday, without fail… sometimes with his wife and kids too. Oh my…

To quote one of my best guys, and the best advice I ever ignored…

~Get thine ass off the internet~