I don’t have the answers.
Nor do I know all the questions or always ace the test. I get so many emails from women asking me to help them or tell them what they already know. I know just as little as all of you. I’ve just failed, publicly. I just admit when I’m wrong. I highly recommend trying it.
I don’t know everything.
In fact I know very little but do my best to fake it convincingly. Making a list of priorities helps, but I still get lost along the way when I’m not paying attention.
I fail regularly.
I make a huge effort to avoid the situation entirely, but I’ve been known to make the wrong choice, more times than I can count. (please don’t help) I accept it all because it’s brought to me to where I am today- staring my fairytale in the face. When you strive to be better, good things just happen. When I valued myself more, I ended up chin deep in love and appreciated down to my unattractive toes. When I took the sale sign off that I’d been wearing around my neck, I woke up in the middle of the best dream I’ve ever had, only to realize it was my life. I’m quite imperfect, and I’m loved for my imperfections. For all I’ve ranted and raved the past two years about what we all deserved and how badly I’d chosen… I never dreamed a man could be THIS good.
I don’t feel like an adult yet.
I still call my mom for help. I still wonder when I’ll have all the answers, like she does. She laughed the other day and said “Honey… I love you. What someone else thinks of you is none of your business. Do you need eggs? Cucumbers? Flowers?” I’m still an asshole kid. I love hearing her messages but I’m a slacker about getting back to her. Sometimes her messages are just a comforting reminder that she loves me. As a mother I know she’s waiting for me to call back. I still don’t. Clearly, I’m still a child.
I’m happier than I’ve ever been in my life.
I feel bad for saying so, but I feel like I’ve really grown up and learned to swim in the happy details that feed me as a person, and not those that feed my insecurities. I’ve learned that alone doesn’t have to mean lonely and being in love with the right man makes you feel like a damn fool for ever discounting the woman he loves. I feel like I owe him an apology for every idiot I ever let take his place. He worries about my temperature, my smile and my soul. He makes me a nicer person and he qualifies me as the happiest women on earth… or at least puts me in running for the crown. and I could only be happier if I had a crown on. Just sayin.
I love a man deeper than I ever knew possible.
He plans days designed around forcing me to play. He doesn’t let me politely decline to participate. He smiles a smile that sends shock waves through me and he makes me want to be nicer. He kisses me and I picture cloth diapers hanging on the line. It’s as biblical as I can get without making anyone uncomfortable. It’s a love that compels me to define it while I can’t even begin to throw every adjective I have at it. I love him more than I thought was possible and he safeguards the blessing. When I tell him I’m the luckiest girl, I’m not schmoozing him. I’m stating fact.
I really didn’t think nice men actually existed.
For all I rambled on and on about “real” men and ranted at the clearly pathetic examples… I had lost faith. I honestly thought they were all the same. Then I met my Superman… and ladies PLEASE… know he exists. My boyfriend is the greatest man I’ve ever known. He helps strangers in the grocery store parking lot. He plays with babies. He really is… super.
I have a huge ego… and my acre vegetable garden is testament to that fact.
In a week? I’ll be swimming in veg. My zucchini patch is just starting to produce. My 300 tomato plants are ripening, simultaneously. My 12 plum trees are just days away. I have knee high basil and 200′ of sweet corn setting ears. I have 15 heads of cabbage I have no idea what to do with. I have zinnias and sunflowers everywhere, and a million buds just beginning to open. I’m humbled by all of it… but damn if I don’t get carried away when it comes to planting this garden.
I love gas station food.
Especially the corn dogs, though I LOOOOVE those awfully unhealthy ham and cheese pocket thingies equally as much. I blame my hippie organic upbringing. I do my best to avoid it and this morning I was reminded of why I should. I bought a corn dog… and it was some sort of chili fan destruction of an already perfect food. I took a bite and it tasted like weird hot-dog laced chili and cornbread. Yuck. But yeah… I ate it anyway. A corndog is a corndog.
I survive on energy drinks.
I feel guilty buying them too- because I used to nag my son about drinking them. I humbly retract my preconceived notions regarding my Rockstar/Monster addiction. They get shit done.
I used to garden with music… now I garden in silence, because my thoughts are deafening.
I snack on peas, weed for hours and work out the worlds problems, in my head. I swear I got more done, faster, with martinis and Top 40, but whatever.
I’ve seen the worst of what mankind has to offer. I’ve been the victim of a sociopathic married liar and lived to tell the tale. I remain threatened by him and I’m bitter when I consider how stupid I”ve been and how reckless with my safety. I was destined to be special to someone amazing… how could I have been so stupid or held standards so low? I regret my mistakes.
I love the summer months where I spend little to nothing at the grocery store.
Toilet paper, pasta and pet food…. those are the grocery trips that dreams are made of. For all the friends I have that tell me I’m crazy… I laugh at them having to buy potatoes at the grocery store. I use it as my chance to get caught up on the bills I’m behind on.
I never wanted a wedding again until I met him. I never wanted to make an absolutely public statement about my undying love for someone, ever before. So when I see pictures of his first marriage… I go green, and not in a good way. I have my jealous moments and I fail best at those times.
I feel safe for the first time in my life.
I don’t worry about locking the windows and doors when he’s here. I love the smell of summertime at night but I’m a crazily overprotective single mother too. I realized it the other night when I was making my third round of window & door checks. He would protect us with his life, and I sleep easily beside him.
I’m a horrible bitch at times and you will rue the day if you fuck with me.
I’m a nasty little insect when inspired. I openly admit and apologize for it. I forever try harder to be nicer. I don’t always succeed.
I’m an amazing friend
I remember your birthday, and I’ve done this pre-Facebook, for the record. I will fight right beside you, give you my last dollar and take your kids any time you need…but if you cross me I will remember every secret you ever told me, in detail… and I will use them against you if you should make the mistake of doing the same. Trust me- that’s a lose-lose situation. I only like the coolest women, and I have amazing friends. I love them all dearly and I treasure each moment spent laughing with my favorite ladies. Most of my enemies are anonymous.
I’m an even worse enemy.
I recently had an anonymous hater contact my sweet Superman’s brother to flirt with him, then warn him about me. Mmmm… push me and you’ll only see how strong I am. I am ridiculously protective and will make quick work of anyone who would go anywhere near my loved ones. Oh Lindsey Falcon, or whatever your fake name is now- perhaps you should have tried pretending to be a nurse and not a Hooters employee. <eyeroll> Two points for blocking me so I can’t link you to the blog you fear enough that you’re willing to put on your Shady Whore panties. If I meet you- you should be prepared because…. hell hath NO fury like mine- and I will eviscerate you. Clearly you’re stupid so let me define that for you in English.
eviscerated, past participle; eviscerated, past tense; eviscerates, 3rd person singular present; eviscerating, present participle
- Disembowel (a person or animal)
- – the goat had been skinned and neatly eviscerated
- Deprive (something) of its essential content
- – myriad little concessions that would eviscerate the project
- Remove the contents of (a body organ)
Get your shovel out and keep digging because I need more fertilizer this time of year. My tomatoes are hungry.
I’m human… and trying. I don’t always win and I sometimes cry about it when I lose.
I confess, to you- my brothers and sisters… that I have failed . In my thoughts and in my words. In what I have done and in what I have failed to do.
…..But I always keep trying….