Don't get me started...

I have a lot to say, and lately, very little time with which to say it.  So, in lieu of a typical post, I give you my 

Top 5 things to 'not get me started on':

1.) People who think every spider they see is a brown recluse.  It's not, and you're stupid.

2.) People who don't know the difference between to, too and two.  Were you absent during your entire 5th grade English class?

3.) Rock bands who continue to tour (and wear leather pants and makeup) well into their 60's.  Ew.

4.) People who think that gold is a logical investment and will come in handy during some sort of apocalyptic situation.  Yeah, good luck lugging around a bag of gold bars and trying to trade them for food, guns and medical supplies once the planet has been nuked.

5.) People who can afford cigarettes, alcohol and pot, but who are on food stamps.  I can't even comment on this for fear my head will actually explode.  Do NOT get me started.  

That is all.

Should old acquaintance be forgot...

Ahhhh, a new year is upon us.  Every year, in the weeks leading up to January 1st, I make a list of approximately 8-15 resolutions, since I like to give myself options.  Historically, I keep about 3 of them, which I think is somewhat commendable.  This year I made 19, and I think the increase is a result of previous, unfulfilled resolutions, compounding themselves into one giant, daunting list.  If I am able to keep all of them, I will be the healthiest, happiest, richest, most Zen person on planet earth. So far, I'm easing into things.  I like to give myself a grace period to begin these arduous tasks, since the beginning of a new year always falls inconveniently in the midst of my mid-winter melancholy.  

It's been many years since I celebrated New Year's Eve in the traditional sense.  Back in 1999, when I still lived back East, my roommate and I decided it would be fun to spend NY's Eve at the house of a platonic guy friend who lived on a local college campus with 4 other dudes.  We wore the requisite slutty dresses and proceeded to drink $5 "champagne" straight out of the bottle all night.  When midnight arrived, I peered out through my drunken haze and grabbed the first semi-attractive guy I saw and kissed him.  Mission accomplished.  I then spent the remainder of the night pretending to be passed out, so that he would lose interest in me and go find a conscious drunk girl to date rape.  Oh, to be 21 again.  

Fast forward to my 2nd year in Colorado... some friends from work and I decided it would be fun to go downtown to ring in the New Year.  So, we got off work around 10:30, changed into our completely-inappropriate-for-20-degree- weather dresses, and paid an underage busboy to drive us downtown and drop us off.  We then paid a $15 cover to get into a club I wouldn't walk into for free on a normal day, and spent half an hour elbowing our way to the bar to get 3oz of complimentary "champagne" with which to toast at midnight. After the toast, the bartenders began spraying all of us with bar hoses and telling us to leave.  I distinctly  remember standing outside on the street corner, unable to feel my extremities, desperately trying to hail a cab.  I was not drunk, I had not had fun and now I was apparently never going to get home.  After about 20 minutes, in a daring and effective move, I threw myself on the hood of a cab that had slowed down in traffic.  "Get in!" I yelled to my friends, "We're leaving!!"  

Since then, I have spent the majority of NY's Eve's at home, sober as a Mormon, watching When Harry Met Sally.  And even though we are only 9 days in, I'd like to propose a toast to me and my good decision making thus far in 2013, because let me tell you... there have been more than a few opportunities for me to start this year off in much the same fashion as the last few. 

When the chance to hook up with an ex presented itself, I put down my 3rd glass of scotch and said "NO!  That is a bad idea."  When I started feeling lonely and decided that perhaps I would casually text a former fling, I threw my phone across the room and shouted "NO! No good can come of that."  And when a friend tried to convince me to get in a fight with some awful girls, I said "NO!  They're not worth it."  Then, I proceeded to dance the night away.  

You know what guys?  I think maybe I'm finally a grown-up. 

It's the Holiday season...

For as long as I can remember, I've loved the holidays.  I love the songs, the movies, the decorations, and the cookies.  What I do not love, is the forced merriment, the stressed out shoppers/diners I have to deal with at work, or the feeling of expectation that the big day is supposed to be something it is often not.  I am happy to spread as much joy as possible, buy a few gifts, and spend December 25th relaxing, eating, drinking and going to bed at a reasonable hour. 

My ex and I started a tradition of driving around on Christmas Eve, drinking cocoa, listening to carols and looking at Christmas lights.  In my romanticized hindsight, it was always magical and tender and we would get home, curl up on the sofa to watch a Christmas movie, and enjoy a beautiful night.  When I really think about some of those Christmas Eves past, however, I remember that we also got into quite a few fights when I thought he was driving too fast and recklessly on icy streets and trying to turn up people's private driveways to get a better view of things.  In fact, the last time we ventured out, I distinctly recall pouring a fair amount of peppermint schnapps into my cocoa, hoping to attain a level of apathy toward his driving that would prevent a Yuletide fight.  I don't remember if it worked or not, you know, cuz I was all drunk...  

Regardless, for the past 3 years (since he and I broke up), I've upheld this driving-around-looking-at lights tradition, only now I do it alone, crying, and pining for the past.  It's really quite a spectacle.  Thankfully, when I get home and pop in 'It's a Wonderful Life', the only ones around to see me weep into my wine are my cats, and they don't judge.

It occurred to me the other day, that I reference my ex quite often, in this blog and in life.  A friend actually asked me if I would consider getting back together with him--if maybe that's what I really want.  I thought about it for a minute, but only for a minute, because if I'm being completely honest with myself, the answer is no.  He is an amazing person, and I will always love him, but we didn't work.  I want what we had, but better.  I've since dated the too young, the too clueless, the too selfish and I've pursued the too old and too uninterested, with no one quite falling in the middle yet.  I'm apparently the freaking Goldilocks of dating.  

This year, I decided to buck tradition and instead, hung out with friends, got drunk and confessed some feelings to a crush...Had that worked out in my favor, I don't suppose I'd be sitting here typing this, but so what?  I've always been a bigger fan of New Year's than Christmas anyway.  I like clean slates, new beginnings and fresh starts, all of which a new year encompasses.  So, instead of letting the holidays make me blue, I'm going to continue making my resolutions list and look forward.  

Resolution #1) Maintain a high level of awesomeness.  

This shit is gonna be easy...

You've got my vote...

If you are anything like me, you could not have been happier to see Tuesday November 6th come and go.  It's not that I wasn't excited to learn the outcome of this pivotal election, but more so, I was excited that my phone would stop endlessly ringing.  

There are exactly 3 people who ever call me on the phone: 
1.) My mother 
2.) My father (and that's on a rather specific bi-monthly basis) 
3.)  A very persistent bill collector who I've been successfully dodging for years now. 

So, in a normal week, I receive maybe 2-3 phone calls.  Fast forward to an election year, however, and it's a totally different story. You see, I'm lucky enough to live in Colorado, one of the so-called "battleground" states.  I am also registered as neither Democrat nor Republican, which I recently learned is the equivalent of writing "I am obviously confused and unsure who to vote for.  Please call me 46 times a day to convince me your candidate is the best", on your voter registration form.  Lesson learned... but all of this nonsense got me thinking:  Is choosing someone to vote for any different than choosing someone to date?

Obviously, in either situation, you want someone who shares your values.  You want someone who is honest with you about their intentions and who keeps their promises.  Nothing is worse than a politician who promises not to raise taxes, for example, then gets elected and raises them anyway.  Equally disappointing, is a boyfriend who promises to take out the garbage and massage your feet then doesn't deliver.

Let's face it... whether campaigning or dating, everyone brings their A-game in the beginning in order to win over their audience.  You're playing up all your best qualities and glossing over all the undesirable ones.  This is understandable. Just like no politician would have a chance in hell of getting elected if he began a speech by stating his personal agenda and listing any and all special interest groups that are contributing financially to his campaign, no guy is getting a second date if on the first, he opens with "I have crippling intimacy issues, so it's great you agreed to go out with me!"  Euphemisms, spin-doctoring and in the case of dating, good old-fashioned 'fake it til you make it' are the order of the day.  

That being said, it would be so refreshing to find a man that could humble himself, admit to his shortcomings and be honest with you.  Just once, I'd like to hear a candidate (or lover) say "I honestly don't know if I can balance the budget (give you an orgasm).  But I believe I can do it;  I've got some good strategies and I'm going to get in there and try my damnedest to make it happen".

As for the next election cycle, candidates please note:  I would never go for the needy guy that calls me all the time telling me how important I am and needing constant reassurance that I like him.  It's the quiet, mysterious loner who's been catching my eye from time to time from across the room that I'm going to gravitate toward (what up, Gary Johnson!?)  And as long as he doesn't try to take away my hard-earned money, my birth-control, or my gun, I might just marry him.

Breaking up is hard to do...

Forgive me for stating the obvious, but it's true.  Breaking up sucks.  It's difficult whether you've been dating someone for 5 days or 5 years, because in essence, what you are saying to them is "You lack something that I require."  And often, what is lacking is something they already know about them self and having the person they care about present it to them and proceed to reject them as a suitable partner because of it, is awful.  

In some cases, your needs are clear and obvious.  In my 1st serious relationship, I stated to him "I need you to NOT stumble home drunkenly at 2:30 a.m. every night, take a piss in my garden and proceed to pass out open-mouthed and drooling on my brand new sofa."  I felt this was a legitimate request.  However, he could not abide, so out the door I went and I never looked back.  I had slowly lost any respect I'd ever had for him, and with it, any love I'd ever felt.  

But so much more often, the situation is a little fuzzier.  Breaking things off when you still love and care for someone, yet you know in your heart they will never be the person you want them to be, or be able to provide you with what you need... that's when it's tricky.  I've always believed that loving someone is the easy part.  Dealing with their family crap/prior relationship baggage/day-to-day b.s. is the real challenge.   

I know people can change.  I also know they will only do so when they are damn good and ready, and not usually because someone tells them they have to.  Changing fundamental things about yourself to attempt to make someone else happy, does nothing but breed resentment and, in my eyes, is more or less fulfilling an ultimatum: "Become the person I expect you to be, or it's over."  Who wants to live that way? 

Still, I am guilty of staying in relationships longer than I should have, simply for the comfort that comes from having someone around.  Those who know me, know I enjoy my solitude and independence, yet there's something to be said for having someone to come home to and snuggle with on a cold night.  It's also very easy to be seduced by the vision of yourself as seen through the eyes of someone who loves you.  You say to yourself "This person thinks I hung the moon... how can I possibly hurt them?"  

It's hard on the cats, too.  Laugh it up, but you try to explain to 2 precious little furry beings why the tall, hairy, deep-voiced human that pets them all the time, is no longer around.  Even if the relationship only lasted a few months, that's like, 4 1/2 years to a cat!  I'm just saying, break-ups are rough on everyone. 

I've often wondered if my expectations are too high.  I'm curious what it would be like to be one of those people who meets someone and decides "This is it.  I'm done with dating, I want a family, so whatever nonsense comes along with this person, I'm just going to accept it and power through for the greater good."  I know people like this.  I've watched them in action and it's intriguing.  But for me, it sounds dangerously like I'd be changing and compromising my vision of the future for someone else and that, I resent.

Papa don't preach...

Everywhere I look...babies. Perhaps it's because I live in a military town, but I swear you can't swing a dead cat around here without hitting a pregnant chic.  They're in restaurants, movie theaters, and most often, clothing stores.  Struttin' around with their adorable little basketball bellies, trying on maternity sundresses and stretchy pants.  

I've always loved pregnant bellies.  I am the psycho that accosts women in the grocery store to tell them how beautiful they look, all fat and waddling around.  In fact, if I were a dude, my obsession would be down-right creepy.  I have dressed up pregnant for Halloween three times, jokingly saying it was the scariest costume I could think of. 

I've never considered myself "baby-crazy".  In fact, children kind of freak me out.  So, I have never put much stock in the whole 'biological clock' thing, but recently, it feels like the universe is shouting at me: "Hey lady!  You ain't gettin' any younger!  Shit or get off the pot!"  (Apparently, I picture the universe as a hot-tempered, Italian-American cab driver.)  

For years, when asked if I wanted kids, my party line has been "Well, the jury is still out... perhaps if I meet the right guy?"  Lately though, I feel like my whole 'maybe-when-the-time-is-right' attitude, is quickly devolving into 'it's-now-or-never', as I'm bombarded with horror stories and statistics about older woman conceiving.

Now, I also hear it's helpful if there is a dude around to get this ball rolling, and as of late, there is no dude.  I finally called it quits with the man-child boyfriend due in large part to my recent soul-searching.  The irony of my life, of course, is that I broke up with him because he doesn't want children, nor is he in any way capable of the stability required to undertake such things even if he did.  Yet, I will probably spend the next 6 months mourning our relationship and in doing so, waste that much more time not finding someone who does want the same things I do.

Sure, it has occurred to me over the years that the right man/time/circumstance might never present itself, so like any smart planner, I had some back-ups in place.  You know, guy friends I made pacts with so that if it got to this point, we would pop out a baby or two together.  The problem is, my back-ups are a couple of suckers that keep getting girlfriends or getting married.  Clearly, I did not think these plans through....

I don't want to end up as a crazy lady who walks up to random men on the street who have straight teeth and full heads of hair and asks if they'd be interested in knocking me up. So, I suppose I need to just settle down and keep believing, as I have my whole life, that things will work out the way they're supposed to.  And if, at age 37, I'm still telling myself this, then bring on the turkey baster.

Who knew?

The strangest thing happened to me today. I received some long-awaited closure that I didn't see coming.   Let me explain... 

About 2 years ago, I was out one night with some friends, when I saw a boy I had been crushing on for years.  He works at a local natural foods store that I frequent, but I had never seen him outside of work until then.  There he was, in all his tanned skin, golden-haired glory.  I had an uncharacteristically ballsy moment and decided to not only go talk to him, but invite him to sit with my friends and me.  By the end of the night, he had walked me to my car and asked for my number, weeee!!  

We went out for happy hour beers about a week later--nothing crazy, just a casual date at a casual place.  We had, what I perceived to be, a wonderful time.  Talking, laughing, sharing stories and interests.  However, he never called me.  I eventually called him a week or two later, and left a breezy message about how I thought we had a great time, but maybe I had misread things, so if he didn't call me back, I would assume he thought I was a total spaz and would move on with my life.  It was totally breezy.  I never heard back.  Not a peep.  

I, of course, did not move on with my life immediately, but instead replayed our date over and over again in my head, wondering what I could have possibly done to repel him.   

When he asked what my interests were, should I not have said "bugs"?  
When he asked what was on my IPOD, should I have lied and said something less lame than Kelly Clarkson, The Pet Shop Boys and a bunch of NPR podcasts?  

My friends all decided he was a jerk, but I kept thinking 'I really don't think he is...'  
Eventually I did manage to stop dwelling on it and move on, except the once a month or so when I needed something from his store.  

Fast forward to this afternoon... I found myself in need of some supplements and hippie shampoo, so off I went.  He was the first person I saw as I walked through the sliding door, and he got the same sort of panicked look on his face that he's had every time he's seen me since our fateful date.  

I walked down the aisle to get what I had come for, and a few minutes later as I stood pondering which organic, patchouli-scented, beeswax chapstick to spend $3.50 on, he came around the corner.   As usual, I gave him an awkward half-smile and immediately looked back down at the shelf, expecting him to turn around and run away.  Instead, he came over and said "I really want to apologize for never calling you back that time.  It was a really shitty thing to do and I've been carrying it around and feeling guilty about it for 2 years now."  

He went on to say that he had been in the midst of a bad break-up, and she had been messing with his head and it was nothing I did, in fact, he thought I was really nice, he just shouldn't have tried to go on a date at that time, yadda, yadda.  

I was shocked to say the least, but I accepted his apology and thanked him for not only putting my mind at ease, but for making it so much less uncomfortable to go shopping for beet chips and coconut oil.  The moral of this story?  Closure does exist, and it could happen to you when you least expect it.