Maybe we're not in that book, because everybody likes us.

Let it be known that this is the only thing that I have seen to do with the upcoming election besides watching the Colbert Report or reading lips during the debate at the gym.  AND I DON'T CARE.

Mitt Romney’s Burn Binder

by The Betches on October 16, 2012


Upon Mitt Romney’s accidental spillage during tonight’s debate that he has “binders full of women” we knew it was only hours before the truth came out. Betches Love This has found and released a copy of Mitt’s Burn Binder which says mean things about all the girls in Congress. Fuck the wage gap, shit just got personal.

Anderson Cooper – Too gay to function.
 

Michelle Bachmann made out with a hot dog (one time)

Candy Crowley is fat virgin. **Note: Still half true

Nancy Reagan tried to sell me marijuana tablets.

China is a grotsky little biotch.

Hilary Clinton. Dyke.

Monica Lewinsky - fat whore

This girl is the nastiest skank bitch I've ever met. DO NOT TRUST HER. She is a fugly slut!

---

Upon the release of Mitt's Burn Binder, some politicians were clearly upset. Luckily they gathered in the auditorium oval office where they all talked about their issues because Barry threatened to cancel the White House Correspondents Dinner, even though they knew he wouldn't because he already paid the DJ.

 Somebody wrote in that book that I'm lying about being a virgin because I use super-jumbo tampons. But I can't help it if I've got a heavy flow and a wide-set vagina.

"Condoleeza, I'm sorry I called you a gap-toothed bitch. It's not your fault you're so gap-toothed." - Mitt

Maybe we're not in that book, because everybody likes us. And I don't wanna be punished for being well-liked. And I don't think my father, the inventor of Toaster Strudel, would be too pleased to hear about this.

I wish we could all get along like we used to in middle school... I wish I could bake a cake filled with rainbows and smiles and everyone would eat and be happy...

She doesn't even go here!

have you heard? Part II

I feel as though my most recent post was left unfinished.  In a sense, it always will be.  I am an adopted, only child with unanswered questions – that will never change.

What I did not mention in my first post was some of the misfortunes obstacles challenges that I faced growing up.  I have known that I was not biologically related to my parents for my entire life.  It’s something I have known since I could remember – the “talk” they gave me must have been when I was so young, and so insignificant, that I do not remember any dramatic, heartbreaking, or world-changing discussion.  It was just a fact – I was adopted. 

Of course there are the obvious assumptions about my situation.

I don’t look like either of my parents.  (Although, when people say that I resemble them, I get a little chuckle.  In ninth grade, I had a home economics teacher who tried to tell my classmates that I had an eating disorder.  Whenever I would excuse myself to use the ladies room, she thought it was appropriate to voice her concerns accusations to my classmates.  The strange part is she couldn’t even decide if I was allegedly anorexic or bulimic.  One day she’d be sour because I didn’t eat – umm DUH, I knew who cooked the food.  If the guys told me they put hot sauce in the cupcakes I certainly wasn’t going to eat them!  The next day, it would be that I was sticking my finger down my throat in the bathroom, when in actuality; I hated that class and would skip out to visit my boyfriend.   When I learned about her accusations, I flipped out.  All the way down to the principal’s office.  And then she had a parent-teacher conference and tried to tell my parents her twisted version.  WAY TO OVERSTEP YOUR BOUNDARIES, WOMAN.  The best part was the morning after conferences, she was filling in for my homeroom teacher and said “oh my gosh Ashley, I met your parents last night.  You look SOOOO much like your mother!”  (case and point that grown, professional women can be fake.)  My response was “that’s so weird, because I’m adopted!”  Her jaw dropping to her desk was good enough for me.  Dumb bitch.  You know Angelina from Jersey Shore?  “The Kim Kardashian of Staten Island?”  This teacher was probably related to her.

I’ll never be able to relate to my mother when I become pregnant.  It’s harsh, but it’s true.  Yet another “special bond” that we will not share.  She did not carry me in her womb for  nine months.  She won’t be able to tell me her opinions on a natural birth, on breast feeding, or “what to expect while I am expecting.”

I’m not actually biologically related to anyone in my family.  I love my family, don’t get me wrong.  There are some friends who I love as if they were biologically related.  But I will be the first to admit that the fact that I am not blood related to some family members makes it that much easier for me to write them off. 

I don’t know anything about myself, genetically.  Not my nationality or my likelihood to develop any illnesses as I grow older.  I was at the doctor’s office last week and was handed a form that was “new procedure – just a few questions about your genetics.”  I put my hands up and said “nope, no clue! I’m adopted, sorry!”  One less form I need to complete, thank you!  But all jokes aside – do twins run in my family?  What about cancer?  I will never know, and neither will my kids.

But there were other challenges.

The first time (I can remember) being teased for being adopted was when I was in fifth grade.  JM told me that my parents didn’t want me.  Big deal, I know… but I was like, ten.  At least my “fake” parents raised me well enough to know that’s fucked up!

Then in eighth grade, I remember RM and JV saying the same thing… Nobody wanted me, I was a mistake, no one loved me, etcetera, etcetera.  The fact that I remember their names doesn’t mean I haven’t gotten over it.  You’ve probably read about one of these people in a previous post (coincidentally).  I forgive, but I don’t forget.  RM and I made up and fought all over again, a vicious, catty cycle, until we both left our hometowns and never spoke again.  But about a year ago she messaged me wanting to put water under the bridge.  While I don’t hold any grudges, that ship had sailed long ago.  I didn’t lose sleep over her personal attacks then, and I most certainly do not now… but I have the right to chose who I am friends with.

There were other people who said similar things… some who even read this blog.  And the fact is, it never hurt me.  It just opened my eyes at a very young age. 

People who knew me, past or present, have their opinions of me.  Everyone remembers their own version of the story and their own perception of events that have happened.  My entire life, I had friends from all different social circles.  So when I was quick to cut off people who I did not need in my life, it came off to some as being a bitch, or having no friends, or whatever other (unwarranted) opinion they formed.  But when I didn’t want to be friends with RM or JV’s friends, for example, I didn’t do it because I wanted people to fight my battles, or dislike them just because I did. 

The fact is, I didn’t dislike them.  I just wasn’t interested in insignificant friendships of no value or sincerity.  If my best friend bullied someone who was adopted, but never bullied me, the good and bad don’t cancel each other out.  I'd be as big of a douchebag as my best friend was.

have you heard?

Is anyone else sick of hearing those commercials about how you can drop your baby off at any hospital in Pennsylvania to give it up, "no questions asked?"  Anythings better than the twisted "solutions" mothers find that involve trash bags or ding-dong-ditch, but hearing about this non-stop on the radio is still a major buzzkill.

I remember in the eighth grade, we were old enough for politics to be discussed in social studies and got into debates about pro-life, pro-choice and everything in between.  It hit home for me and I had to excuse myself from the classroom on multiple occasions.  That was the time in my life where I immediately related to abortion and thought "that could have been me."  From then on, I was pro-life.

It didn't take long for me to realize that not everything is so black and white.  It was only a year later that my classmate had an abortion at the age of 14. She was young, and she was dumb, but she was also unhealthy, as was the baby inside of her.  We'd never know what kind of life it would live unless she had rode it out, but what if she did and it was a disaster?  It was her choice and it affected her life, not those of distant classmates.  It was her decision alone.

Then I reached college and my feelings were changing.  What if there was "an accident?"  What a nightmare.  Would I ride it out and do the right thing like my own biological mother did?  Would I do what my classmate did?  Would I not be able to go through with adoption?  My head is spinning just thinking about it.  I know that this is a sensitive subject.  The fact is, I don't even know where I stand on this.  It doesn't concern anyone but me, anyway.  I respect whatever anyone else's stance is on this as long as its expressed tastefully, so have the decency to respect mine.

What these commercials have made me think about MOST is the fact that 25 years ago, a young woman named Nicole Whalen had a tough decision to make.  She went into labor, found herself at the hospital, and let someone else take her baby home with them.  There was no specific arrangement made.  She did not have any legal agreement with a couple that was expecting her to birth their new miracle.  She could have, up until the moment her daughter arrived, changed her mind.  Actually, she could have even after that.

That child was me.   And what little I know about my adoption is that it wasn't final the day I was born. My parents got a phone call during dinner that there was a baby for them, and they had to call everyone they knew to borrow a car seat, a crib, etc.  They were completely unprepared.  My adoptive parents had to go through countless evaluations and preliminary procedures before I was truly theirs.

When I was in high school, my curiosity got the best of me and I really wanted to find my biological mother.  I had met people online who had been in my situation and were supportive of helping me find my mom.  I tried to emanciapate myself from my adoptive parents because our relationship was (and still is) insignificant in my eyes.  I spent many days leaving school early to browse the yearbooks at local high schools and colleges to try tracking her down.

I had no luck, and it was discouraging.  A friend and I went to the Alumni center at the local university and figured if there were any record of my mother at that college, it would be there.  Unfortunately, it was another dead end.  There was no sign of her enrollment. 

I had tried to do people searches online but the ones that really work all cost money that I didn't have.  Coincidentally, the woman who worked at the alumni center had a son who was my classmate and recognized my friend and I.  A few days later, she appeared at my job... I was cashiering at the grocery store when she came up to my register with a sealed envelope with my name on it.   I immediately started to cry because I could only imagine what the contents were.  She had conducted a people search that the university must have had access to... it showed every Nicole Whalen there was. 

What I managed to do was to narrow down by age, middle initial and location around the time I was born to find the listing that was hers.  None of the addresses or phone numbers were valid anymore and I began to wonder what she was constantly running away from or running towards.  I even reached a point where I would search addresses in the phone book and call neighbors of the listings who had old school names that would imply they were from another generation, you know, Margie and Sue... maybe they would sympathsize with me and call me back to tell me they had known my mother.  A lot of people listened to my story and longed to help, but had no information to share.

After an exhausting effort, I grew tired of trying to find her and was more concerned about finding myself. I was in a good place and didn't need this woman - technically a stranger - to make me feel whole.  But every now and then, the curiousity crosses my mind.  I still do random Google and Facebook searches, but nothing beyond that. 

After a psychology exam in college, my professor pulled me aside and said that he had found his biological mother by paying a private investigator... simple as that, he had all the info he wanted.  Even so, nearly five years later, I know how easily I could find her and I haven't made that effort.  What if she doesn't want to be found?  What if she has five children of her own that she didn't give up?  I'm not sure how I would feel about that. 

Throughout the years, I've always enjoyed using the conversation starter "what nationality do you think I am?"  It's funny because people think it's so weird that I ask that, and they're quickly uninterested and say, "I don't know, what are you?"

Well I'm adopted.  I don't know.  That's why I asked you.

Suddenly it's like a game.  I've been told I have German, Italian, Indian (Native American), and English heritage. 




I'm the one on the left.  What do you think I am? 
 



my choice is what I choose to do, and if I'm causing no harm it shouldn't bother you.

...

your choice is who you choose to be, 

and if you're causing no harm 

then you're alright with me.



Who are you to judge the life I live?  I know I'm not perfect, and I don't live to be.
But before you start pointing fingers, make sure your hands are clean."



Could this man have said it any better?

Celebrating my twenty fifth birthday may have some merit for re-evaluating my current situation. Surprisingly, I have not spent a great deal of time doing so... the quarter-life crisis has been averted. In fact, I think that now, more than ever, I am beyond content with my life... in every aspect.

Part of growing up is knowing what truly matters, isn't it? Knowing what's of value and when you need to "weed out the negativity." [has any one else read the cover story on Lucy Hale in Cosmopolitan's September issue? quotable.]  Recently, I feel like that's been my solution to everything. Not only for myself, but those who seek my advice, as well. I am no 'Dear Abby' [did I just age myself?], but I am the friend that you come to for an honest opinion.  The only sugar coating I do is on my cupcakes. 

Many people who are near and dear to my heart have been facing the same dilemma; being taken for granted. Admittedly, I often jump the gun in weeding out the negativity and give up on things that could probably be mended... But I've said it before and will say it again, it WORKS for me. 

I don't lose sleep over it. I dont drop friends like flies, but I do know when it's time to stop caring about people who do not care about me.  It's only fair, isn't it?

The instances where this disappoints me is with those friends who I truly believe meant no harm.  Some people are malicious and inconsiderate, its undeniable.  But I genuinely think that a good portion of twenty-somethings just don't know any better.  They've yet to learn how to carry their own weight in a friendship.

Never the less, that excuse got old when I was playing with Barbies, so imagine how thin my patience has worn at 25. I'm not suggesting that if you disagree with your friend, you should cut ties and throw a friendship away. But as I grow older, I have learned the saying "wiser with age" doesn't apply to all. Some people will never change.   

You shouldn't change for anyone but yourself - your own happiness is what matters as long as its not destroying someone else's, isn't it?  But on the other hand, can't we all agree that some people can afford to be a little more thoughtful and a little less selfish?  There are countless people I've met in life, some who I have known quite well, who are "not my cup of tea." The fact that I don't want a personal relationship with them doesn't mean that they don't have an incredible group of friends and loved ones.  Hell, there's a huge possibility that they don't like me, either.

What I have trouble dealing with is the people who are quick to say things with destructive intentions. It takes a lot to get to me; the fact that someone is TRYING to hurt me trumps anything they could possibly say. That's the honest truth. 

I try to be cautious of who I share my personal business with (which is understandably hard for you to believe as you read this).  I don't keep this indestructible guard up or take forever to trust people, but I do know that if I don't click with someone, I'm won't waste their time or my own to pretend we are best friends.  Take notes girls -- it's life changing to be REAL.

When I do share my personal thoughts and feelings with someone, it goes without saying that I trust them to keep it to themselves and pass no judgment.  I recently "broke up" with one of my girlfriends.  [It's what it seemed like; the dramatic part, not the heartbreak.]

There had been what should have been a simple misunderstanding about a month ago.  But I hadn't heard from her nor had I made any effort to speak to her since.  Long story short, someone took something I said out of context -- intentionally -- and tried to meddle.  I expected nothing less from this person when we spoke.  Like clockwork, I knew she'd go and start trouble. 

What disappointed me was that my "friend" chose to absorb the lies, believe her, and not confront me about it, to top it off.  To be clear, when I say I am disappointed, I do not mean I am saddened.  I am frustrated with myself for expecting more of this person.   I had given them more credit than there was due.  I should have trusted my instincts and known better... but I like to give people the benefit of the doubt.  Clearly that's something my "friend" does not practice.

Time goes by and she texted me happy birthday. I said thank you and left it at that.  It was strange to hear from her, but I didn't think twice about it because it was my birthday.  I'm too busy loving people who love me to waste time hating people who hate me.   Anyway, we are supposed to be the kind of friends who celebrate birthdays together, not send half-ass texts.  Why bother when it's insincere?  

So the next day she texts me again to see how my birthday went.  I wasted no time after telling her it was great.  I asked her why we hadn't spoken, even though I already knew the answer.

I'll spare you the conversation verbatim.  By the end, it had escalated into one of those who-can-get-the-last-word, annoying fights that make you want to smack some sense into the person.  It became a personal attack threatening "all the shit she could say about me."   And my favorite part, that I am a dumb cocky bitch.  My response -- DAMN FUCKING RIGHT.

SO YOU'RE SAYING YOU HATE ME BUT WANTED TO SEE HOW MY BIRTHDAY WAS.  OK.  It's a good thing that I already checked out of this friendship two months ago or my feelings may have been hurt.

Did she hate me all this time, and pretend to be my friend?  Or is she so dense that she does not understand that I've been a good friend to her, and this meddler is just instigating something between us?  The back story here is that I saw she and this girl I grew up with (a shady character, but someone I've stayed affable to) had become Facebook friends.  Typical of me, I had a sarcastic comment about two girls who hated each other to suddenly become FB friends at 25, when they aren't in fact friends,  don't hang out, don't cross paths AND straight from the horses mouth: "I mean, I hated her when me and XXXX were dating, but that's typical gf behavior... but I have no problems with her now... past is the past."  

Good for you, ten years later you are over it.  But to be fair, was there a need for this drawn-out hatred to begin with?  NO.  People who use the phrase "they're being the bigger person," are ironically the most small-minded.  Being destructive to someones reputation or every day life is not something that gets brushed under the rug and chalked up as "growing up."    The bigger person wouldn't have held a grudge for a stranger for ten years, then wake up one day and say "let's be facebook friends so we can creep on each other."  

Most importantly:  I DO NOT CARE who is friends with who.  If all of my friends got along, I would have no complaints.  I was actually accused of being MAD that they had "become friends via facebook" [not to be confused with friends in real life.]  ITS LIKE I WAS TALKING TO A BRICK WALL.  

If you're confused and think that this doesn't add up, imagine how mind-boggled I was while the conversation was actually happening.  I wish them well, but I've washed my hands of it.  They're not losing any sleep over me not being in their lives anymore, but neither am I.  It's true what they say about letting all that extra baggage go - trust me, I'm traveling lighter already.

.

are you memorable?

It brings me great pleasure to put a smile on a stranger's face. I can recall moments I have shared with complete strangers, dating back ages ago, and still find myself grinning, laughing, and reminiscing.

I can not enter an AC Moore, Forever 21 or a DSW without striking up conversation with at least one person. I've exchanged craft ideas with middle aged women, had a gay guy at Forever help me pick out my outfit for the weekend, and a girl at DSW tell me that I HAD to get those heels, just in case I needed them for NYE this year. It's AUGUST, I don't need them, but I needed her to give me the justification! And don't get me started on the amount of times I should have been paid by a store for assisting a customer to find the shoe department, a top in their size, or most recently, the de-wormer at PetCo.

Last Friday, I managed to break my glasses. I have NO idea how I pulled that one off, but this isn't going to be about my drunken night out. This week, I stopped in at the optical department at Target where a nice man told me that he would only charge me a measly million dollars to repair them for me. Considering his joking tone, I had a feeling he wouldn't make me pay a dime, and he hadn't even asked if I got my glasses there. [I hadn't.]

Friday night of this week, I was so sick of wearing my contacts and my old glasses that Dexter used as a chew toy that I made it back in the store. The same guy was there and in less than 2 minutes my glasses were repaired, free of charge. He was "just happy to help." Maybe the store doesn't have a button on their register for glasses repair, or a cost for one tiny screw. I know that the guy didn't go out of his way to fix these for me, and he was just doing his job, but he still made my day. I thought I would have to buy a whole new pair of glasses before I could begin to get these ones fixed.

I expressed my gratitude and proceeded to hit up the popcorn stand at Target. [If you go to Target and you don't get popcorn, a hot dog or Pizza Hut personal pie while you're there, YOU ARE DOING IT WRONG.] 

On my way out, I bought a $10 "thank you" gift card and went back over to the vision center. I suppose the gentleman was in the back office, I was so happy, because I quickly tossed it on his side of the counter and walked away. I had noticed his name on his badge earlier, and signed it with my name... so he would definitely know it was for him. He may not even put two and two together that I'm Ashley, the girl whose glasses he had repaired moments ago. I just hope that with the gift card, he treated himself to some popcorn, too. Maybe he even bought some for his co-workers, who knows. Scott may not have been phased by my thank you gesture, but his kindness made my day.

I imagine that on Friday there were a few people who annoyed me, too. There's always the person holding up the line, slowing down traffic, or doing something that seems so irritating at the moment but is insignificant in retrospect. The people I want to remember two days later, and continue to meet for the rest of my life, are the ones like Scott. Shouldn't we all?

oh my god, you KNOW her?

Today, just when I thought the world couldn’t get any smaller, it did.

My co-workers and I were talking about how I broke up with my ex [what a disaster] and they asked where’s that GEM living now?

“Oh, who is he living OFF of? A nice girl named ------. She went to Cornell… she seems fantastic.”

yes, he is the angry emoji.  

And then my friend’s jaw dropped.

Turns out they went to high school together.  Since she’s a good friend to me, she assured me I’m prettier and better and all of the above… girl code, ya know. That’s not my point. None of that actually MATTERS.

What struck me to write today is the fact that a few weeks ago, my ex started texting me. I’ll share with you the short version.

I stand my ground that I didn’t cave in, or think we were going to get back together [nor do I WANT TO]. I was short with him. Passive. Uninterested. He did convince me to agree to meet up with him later that week. I agreed, because we had said we would meet to get “closure” a few times in the past and both of us bailed on each other, for various reasons. Mine being that I didn’t think anything he could say could possibly “fix” anything. We had both moved on, we were both seemingly happy, and there’s no reason to dig up the past. However, I did not want these to become a reoccurring exchange. I figured that if I agreed to meet, we could tie up loose ends, once and for all.

I kept my distance… this all happened into the late hours of Saturday night. It wasn’t until Tuesday when we were supposed to meet that I got out of work, got home, and decided to call him. I wasn’t going to text back and forth or wait to see if he ignored me and changed his mind. Actually dialing his number was the most aggressive approach I could really take to just get it over with.

THAT LITTLE PRICK BLOCKED MY NUMBER.

Mind you, we’ve been split up since December. That’s NINE MONTHS of being apart; hardly speaking and choosing to look the other way when we saw each other in public. During the course of those nine months, way back in January or so, I was infuriated with the amount of money that he owed me and continued to spend on his new girlfriend, new clothes, trips to places we had been together (that I paid for when we went). Clearly I was sour about it, but the bottom line was I wanted my money. To this day I am working two jobs to pay off someone else’s debt. It’s my fault for trusting him and choosing to help him, but regardless, it bit me in the ass and I’m allowed to be annoyed about it every once in awhile.

Well, in my attempts to chase him for money VIA text and voicemail, he blocked my number. Which was for the best. However, one day he started texting me. This means he made an effort to block my number, then unblock it and contact me on a pretty consistent basis, and then proceed to tell me he misses me and needs to see me, and then BLOCK MY NUMBER again. If anyone should be blocking anything, SHOULDN’T IT BE ME?  

There is no one on the planet who gets under my skin more than this kid.  But I have been pretty successful with not letting him get to me since I broke up with him.  I had a pathetic, rough month after the initial break up.  I felt hopeless... I am the one who ended it, but if you didn't know this already, girls want you to put up a fight for them.  And he did.  But then he stopped and I was a basketcase.  I invested a lot in this relationship.  In fact, the break up involved me taking all of his stuff out of the moving truck we had packed to move into our new apartment THE NEXT DAY.  It was a game time decision.  I had my reasons and knew that last minute was certainly better than never.

Back to the phone number thing.  Does it make any sense to you yet?  Because the only reason I can come up with is that he got in over his head.  I'd like to say he knew that he'd be in deep with his girlfriend if she saw what he had been saying, or that she made him cut all ways of contact with me.  That would require the girl having balls, a back bone, some dignity or self-respect... to think she is worthy of a guy who is committed to her, but able to forgive this mistake.  She may be crazy, but at least she'd be confident.

Ladies and gentlemen, it's safe to say that she lacks all those qualities.

Here's where I made another game time decision.  Maybe not the best one, but not one that I regret.  I wasted about 15 minutes of my night (okay, that's the part that I regret) and took screen shots of everything he said to me.  THE WHOLE CONVO.  Obsessive, maybe... but this needed to be in black and white, with no room for interpretation.  I sent them all to her on Facebook.  [Oh, the drama on Facebook, I know, I know.]  All that I included in the message was "here ya go" with the screen shots.

no future with her.  SHE'S LUCKY.

That was it.  I needed to walk away.  Whatever came of her seeing the messages wouldn't affect me.  I didn't care to know.  Their relationship ending or a fight occurring or ANYTHING would have no direct affect on me, so I didn't care what came of it.  His hardships don't bring me happiness.  I don't think he deserves much, but where would I be if he had any impact on me, nine months later?  What kind of person would I be if I thrived on that?  No one I want to be.

Except then I got to thinking.  What do you expect?  If she read it, I didn't really want her to reply.  I would respect her more if she just took it for what it was worth. We don't even know each other, we didn't need to talk or argue.  But what if she didn't even see it?  For all the trouble he has put me through, I needed to do this.  Call it immature, call it crazy, I don't care.  It was nothing compared to the constant battles I faced while dating him. 

So of course I resent it.  "I was concerned you didn't see this :)."  I know, what a BITCH.  Who cares.

the happy couple

DO YOU KNOW WHAT SHE DID?  Made her profile picture one of them.  She must be DAMN PROUD to be dating a guy who said he has no future with her and thinks about me everyday.  

"I wish I wasn't single, I'm SO lonely and pathetic that I wish I had a boyfriend who told other girls he still loved them and knows he made the wrong choices!  I HAVE TO GET MYSELF ONE OF THOSE SO I CAN CHANGE MY PROFILE PICTURE ASAP."

Yep.  BITCHES ARE CRAZY.  He's your problem now, sweetcheeks.

kill em' with kindness.

This week, I decided that I am going to put forth a conscious effort to make zero attempts to offer a simple greeting or smile while facing those who NEVER return the gesture.  So far, I have failed miserably.  I am 100% certain that it requires more effort to be impolite to someone than to just shoot them a smile.  Why is it that so many people I encounter act like it would actually KILL them to be kind? 

Maybe you are thinking “they just don’t like you.”  That may very well be the case.  But considering that they’ve never said hello to me, how have they already passed judgment?  We are all guilty of it; we judge a book by its cover, and form opinions on both people and things without knowing anything first hand.  But it doesn’t make it RIGHT. 

First impressions prove me wrong time and time again.  The nicest person can be the most deceiving, but the most intimidating person can very well be the most genuine.  It is not our right to define a person.  The girl who may be the cruelest to some may be the most loving person to another.

I don’t think anyone should fight anyone else’s battles, and I don’t base my opinion on people or things off of what others say – I’m my own person and have my own feelings, I will make up my own mind.

One time in high school, I passed a classmate who was a friend-turned-enemy in the hall.  Out of habit, since we were friends probably days before, I shot her a HUGE smile and waved at her.  The look on her face was PRICELESS.  It infuriated her more than any kind word ever could have.  And what could she say about that?  “That bitch SMILED at me, who does she think she is?” 

Actually, I guarantee that she said that… but that’s for another time.

the I Hate My Boyfriend Club.

Who has a girl friend who constantly bashes her man?  I could name a few, easily. 

WHY DO THEY DO IT? Seriously, why?  Does anyone know? 

There’s the age old rule that “we women are supposed to stick together.”  I can value that.  The rule clearly does not state “we women are supposed to fight each other’s battles.”  This applies in all instances, not solely relationship woes. 

If a female constantly bashed her significant other, at least one of these assumptions would be made:

·        He is everything she says he is. 

·        He is perfect (she says so herself on alternate days of the week).

·        She needs to break up with him.

·        He needs to break up with her crazy ass.

·        She doesn’t value respect; towards herself or her boyfriend.

When a woman lays it all out on the table, she is inviting others to pass judgment and form their own opinions.  It may not be fair, but it’s certainly a fact. 

If she hates [her boyfriend, her husband, her fiancé, the guy she slept with last Saturday] so much, then what is she doing with him?  He’s apparently AWFUL and doesn’t want to be with him.  

He may also be the greatest guy in the world, but they may not be great together.  Is he at fault for that? 

Continuing to stay in a situation that you seek advice about on a frequent basis leads me to believe that you do not consider the advice that I share.  You’ve made your bed, now lie in it and stop complaining.  It doesn’t seem that you truly think you’re worth what you say you are.  If you deserved better, you would go out and find yourself something better.  Being negative and seeking pity may get you attention from your friends (for a little while), but it won’t get you the companionship you’re looking for with a man. Not only are you selling yourself short, but you’re also trash talking the man you claim to love.  Neither of you deserve that.

While I can’t speak for myself, a lot of women are in happy, healthy relationships and actually cherish the time they spend with their guy.  It’s true that sometimes a girl’s night is just NECCESSARY.  But when couples are all hanging out together, isn’t the point to actually HANG OUT TOGETHER?  Splitting up into two groups makes me think of playing when we were kids… the boys must have cooties. 

Let’s be honest, I never thought they had cooties, I was boy crazy.

No one wants to be caught in the middle, especially not the girl who is friends with your boyfriend and doesn’t hate him the way you seem to, and/or is happily dating her own boyfriend.  What’s the point of group dates when the girls are all in the other room complaining about their “other halves?” 

I Hate My Boyfriend Club Meetings are held every night with the other self-obsessed, delusional, impossible-to-please bitches.

You just don't seem like the type.

Last summer, my then-boyfriend was working overnight shifts, so I was trying to make up for lost time with some friends while he wasn't around.  I had made the mistake of being socially M.I.A quickly into the relationship, and getting caught up in my life with him [or lack-there-of.] I had a lot of catching up to do.

One of the first friends that I reconnected with was someone I had known for about eleven years. We were always friends, but not very close.  The fact that he was M.I.A. with a girlfriend for a majority of them is a large contributing factor to the distance between us. Apparently, guys are equally guilty of getting wrapped up in their significant others.

We had attempted this meeting once before, but the moment I found out my boyfriend was off work early I ditched.  I didn't make an excuse, either.  I may have still been immature enough to screw up my priorities, but I knew better than to tell tales.  My boyfriend was coming home, period.  Plans were cancelled.

My forgiving friend agreed to reschedule.  I'm known to text someone an hour before dinner and asking if they're available, if not, I guess I'll catch ya next time I'm free.  It's still tough now, but because I have two jobs, a social life [sometimes debatable because of the two jobs and my dog], and my own hobbies; my life no longer revolves around someone else.

The reason why I am sharing this story isn't because of my poor decision making when it came to prioritizing people in my life.  Ironically, it's quite the opposite.  At dinner, my friend told me that he didn't see me as the type to ever settle down, or get married, or have a family.  I would basically live in a bachelorette pad, on my own, and be happy doing so.

I couldn't decide if I was insulted or in complete agreement.

I have to admit, it's been eight months since this guy and I broke up, and I haven't dated anyone since.  I've gone on dates, but have kept my distance.  I would say that I "let it fizzle," but that would require there being an initial spark, right?  I don't think I've even allowed that.

It may have been there, or had potential, but the fact is:  I'm not seeking anything out, so nothing really stood a chance.  I genuinely enjoy being single.  The times where it should bother me most, when RSVP-ing to a wedding, for example, don't even phase me.  In May, I had the best wedding date ever.  I think it will bother me more when she gets a boyfriend -- then I'm really alone.

I'm sorry for being so selfish, Duto.  I just want you to myself .
xoxo

I often joke about how I'm never getting married.  The ring that was converted from my grandmother's earring was sized for my wedding ring finger for a reason;  it's probably the nicest piece of jewelry that's ever going there.  The day that I crashed my Civic, I called my parents freaking out [and seeking help] to learn that they bought a boat with my wedding fund.  That ship has literally sailed.  To top it off, I loved babies when I was growing up.  And my goddaughter is the most beautiful baby I've ever held in my arms and is growing into an incredible little girl.  But if you ask me if I want to hold an infant, I'll most likely squirm.  I think they can smell my fear.

I always wanted to be the girl who married her high school sweetheart. Besides the fact that I hardly speak to the boys I dated in high school, more importantly; I am grateful that I did NOT marry any of them. That fairy tale isn't happening, so why try to be like some girl in the movies or even worse, write my story and just find  a guy to "fit the mold." That's more disturbing than single girls [or ones in new, slow-paced relationships] planning their weddings on Pinterest.  

Outside of the Bubble.

I used to be in a very tight-knit social circle.  As much as I adored my friends, I outgrew it.  There was a time where I was one of the guys, and loved the friendships I shared with them.  There were no fine lines, no secret romances, no awkward morning-afters.

[This is where I hope that for the past twenty-four years I have not been delusional.  Because there is always "that girl" who thinks she is one of the guys.  Truth be told she only has guy friends because 1) all girls HATE HER or 2) the guys keep her around to make fun of her.  I've seen that girl before, and please, shoot me if it's me... she's a desperate, ANNOYING, head case.]

Over the years, priorities changed for everyone.  Fair enough.  There is no harm in growing apart, and growing into "your own."  My issue wasn't the priorities, or the new rankings in each other's lives.  But at the same time, it was where we stood.  Am I making sense?

I may remember growing up differently than some did.  I know that I stopped spending time with the same crowd, day in and day out, for multiple reasons.  I met new people at work, I kept in touch with childhood friends who weren't necessarily in our "social circle," and I worked full-time.  Not because of some falling out or dramatic event... but because I was becoming who I wanted to be, as were my friends.  Maybe they didn't like everything about the maturing me.  But I had a tough time with their coming-of-age, too.

Ladies, did any of your guy friends reach that stage where you were no longer their girl friend?  Two words, NOT one, JUST a friend?  The stage where you were suddenly an object, or a "goal," for lack of a better term?

It genuinely hurt me -- and equally infuriated me -- when my guy friends gained this confidence cockiness where they felt it was appropriate to hit on me, to make remarks, to make me feel like they were only after one thing.  My feelings for them hadn't developed romantically overnight, and I'm certain most of theirs didn't either.  I don't know if that made it better or worse; the fact that they didn't have true feelings for me, so much as they had gross, post-pubescent desires and their logic was a little cloudy.

SINCE I'M NO THERAPIST, that's all irrelevant.  The bottom line is, where in this equation did people who hung out and watched movies, played basketball, or went to parties together as friends suddenly become dating prospects?  Why would I want to kiss you, date you, or spend any solitary time with you if we never, EVER imagined going down that path before?

What's worse?  When you're the object -- or you're only good for bringing them around?  There was also a time that while my presence was requested,  it was highly encouraged to bring along "hot, single friends."

• I know you pretty well.  Chances are I'll NEVER introduce you to a girl friend of mine.  If I thought you were worthwhile, wouldn't I want you for myself anyway?  [I'm kidding.]
• I have respect for my friends.  The same respect I thought you had for me.
• Stop making us feel objectified.  Period.

For the judgmental reader --  yes, I do have confidence.  No, I do not think that these guys find me to be amazing and lose sleep over me at night.  

I do think that they're lazy, sad excuses for "men."  Meet a girl outside of your social circle, out of your graduating class, and last, but not least, out of your baby sister's graduating class.  There ARE other fish in the sea.

There is a fine line between optimism and naivety.

"What we see depends mainly on what we look for."

- John Lubbock

So simply put, yet coined by a famous man.

There are a few ways that I've interpreted this. But let's go with the black and white version.

Do these expressions ring a bell?

-hope for the best

-give the benefit of the doubt

-brought out the best in someone

There is a fine line between optimism and naivety.

For someone who talks the talk, I’ve been played the fool, too.

I've invested time in both things and people that probably weren't worth the effort.  Against my better judgement, I thought positively instead of practically.  I'm a glass half full kind of girl - by no means do I think you should expect the worst in situations.  [Maybe plan for it, just in case.]

Even though you shouldn't judge a book by its cover, everyone sets their own expectations and makes assumptions about other people.  Personally, I give myself a lot of credit for where I am at in my life, despite the obstacles I've faced.  Some may disagree, but they haven't walked in my shoes nor have any right to judge.  As long as I am happy, what does their opinion matter, anyway?

So why don't I practice what I preach?

I recently wrote about how disappointed I've been in my friends who seek romance with the wrong people.  And I'm not saying BAD people - but wrong for them.  I can't even count how many times I've heard the story of how he's going to change, or things are getting better.  [I call BULLSHIT.]  I actually teared up while speaking with one particular friend last week -- let's blame it on the wine-- because she was defending her boyfriend that I have lost all respect for.  He doesn't need my respect; I hold no ranking and my opinion does not have any affect on their relationship.  That doesn't mean I won't share it.  She fully admitted that even if things were going badly with them, she would hold back on telling me, basically because she doesn't want to hear "told ya so," or for me to dislike him even more.  I'm fearful that nothing has changed, or it's only temporary.  And my friend may not even come to me when she needs to because she doesn't want me to write this guy off completely.  The fact is, I already have.  I just have to wish her well, bite my tongue at certain times [she may disagree, but I try], and hope for the best.

I am not bitter.  I do not assume that every guy will be a disappointment.  I, too, would like to find my fairy tale one day.  But let's just say, I've had my fair share of duds.   They're not all heartbreaking or even memorable stories; I look at them as stepping stones.

The wanna be thug

The high school drop out. (#1)

The 23 year old I dated my senior year

The one I sent packing (I, II, and III)

The one that was two years younger

The one called "Razor"

The one called "Ed Hardy"

The one who said I love you before we started dating

The one with two kids

Have I said too much?

The fact is, as stereotypical as I'm making them all sound right now, I chose not to see those traits, but seek out the qualities that they wanted to shine through.

There is a big difference between wanting something and acquiring it, even personal attributes.  And it's not my prerogative to mold someone into the person they aspire to be.

I've learned this the hard way.  I've lost myself and a ton of money, I've left the school of my dreams, and I've even lost some friends, maybe some dignity, too.  So where are those people now?  Doing the same thing as when I was around, I'm sure... but happy.  Even though they didn't change, they're content.  I was along for the ride because I wanted to see the person they longed to become, and would have been sadly disappointed.

And where am I?  Better off without the ones on the list.

Is this chick FO' REAL?

I know a few crazy bitches I could introduce you to. 
They're the girls that dated my boyfriends UNTIL I CAME ALONG.

1. When you are throwing a temper tantrum via social media, please make sure you do not have any spelling or grammatical errors.  I will NEVER take you seriously, grammatically correct or not.  However, I firmly believe that your audience will much more if you proofread.  You obviously wanted EVERYONE to see this, so you may as well  have given it your best effort.
2. Who exactly are you friends with on Facebook?  I’m quite selective, so I find it quite sad that you choose to “interact” with women that are sluts and hit on your boyfriend. 
3. A)  You were deleted right after I took this screen shot. B)  Chances are they’re not sluts and don’t give a fuck about your boyfriend, but C)  calling you delusional was my next point.
4. Have you ever heard of the phrase “it takes two to tango?”
5. Does your boyfriend [who you just became Facebook official with at the same time you posted this… see how I noticed that?] get turned on by psychotic, attention-seeking behavior?
6. You are an embarrassment to females and the reason why “bitches be crazy.”
7. Threatening via social media is SO SCARY.
8. Actually “fucking someone up” is SUPER CLASSY.
9. You forgot the caps lock, so I actually can’t tell if you’re yelling or not.
10. I AM NOT THE ONLY PERSON MAKING FUN OF YOU RIGHT NOW.

typical me.

i'm a fat kid.

exhibit a:  I made cupcakes for my co-workers

because I had cake batter "for dinner" tonight