Of course we all remember the iconic series, Father Knows Best and I don't want anyone to think I've hit my head and now believe my mother makes sense, but for this blog, we are going to consider her the exception and not the rule. For today's lesson, it is the moms who know what they are talking about and really, their sons need to listen! And, I'm also going to assume the premise of this blog to be true when it comes time for my son to date...which at age 12 will be years from now!!! Hey, it is again my fantasy world so let me live it.
I was hit with one my mind blowing epiphanies again this past weekend...okay, they blow no one's mind but I did find it at least blog worthy. As I was reviewing my FB friends list, and thinking about who and where I spend a lot of my time, I realized I am friends with the mothers of almost every guy I've ever seriously dated (or in one case want to date)...and wondered what exactly does that mean? Does it mean that I am the type of woman moms want to their sons to end up with? Or, does it mean I've spent way too many years trying to impress the wrong person? (Hey, their dads like me too...I mean the man himself!) Or, finally, does it mean I'm attracted to men who just can't figure out what they want and definitely don't want to date the woman their mom likes? Maybe if I can figure out the reason, I will be able to complete the dating trifecta and have the whole family actually like me.
A friend and reader theorized a few weeks ago that "nice guys don't finish last" as they actually just date the wrong women and end up feeling that way. And, maybe that is all related. Maybe the nice guys are dating the needy women...the ones who are like a train wreck just waiting to happen...the ones the mothers definitely don't like...because they want to feel needed...and because they certainly don't want to feel like they are pleasing their moms. Then, when they've helped pick these women up, get them settled and stop them from derailing, the women don't need them anymore and they are off to the next exciting adventure...leaving the nice guys feeling like they've just gone 4 quarters with the New Orleans Saints defensive line.
Add to that the fact most of us nice, normal, perfect women (ahem, I mean me) are too busy pining over, being attracted to, planning fantasy weddings (wait, did I actually type that) with the wrong guy...or the wrong guy for right now...even if their moms really do like us...and you have the formula for several hours of therapy on the couch.
My task, for when I decide I'm really ready to date, is to differentiate between the guys who want to find the woman who actually complements the family game night table vs. the ones who are looking to create shock value when they bring home their latest stiletto wearing, open mouth gum chewing, personality lacking flavor of the week...Hey, just generalizing here.
Monday, September 26, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Love through the ages...
My life has turned into one of those Ladies Home Journal Articles, the ones that say "How to find love, lose weight, be a good mom, etc...when you are in your 20's, 30's or 40's". But this edition is more like "How to manage your life when you are newly separated, a divorcee pro or a happily married woman who has spent more years with her husband than without" as that describes our version of the 3 Stooges. And, what is even more amazing to me is that while our individual circumstances are very different, the emotions we experience and the insecurities we harbor are very similar. Is this where we thought we'd be in our lives? My butt used to be hot, now it is just a hot mess. How am I going to find, want or keep a man when my dress size now is coming close to doubling my shoe size? Where exactly does all the money go each month? And, really, when do you just decide to be happy with who and what you are at any given time?
As I thought about our latest adventure out in the real world (the world that exists outside of my one friend's kitchen, where we drink wine, laugh and our problems don't seem quite so overwhelming) I was reminded once again that everyone has issues, and really, and this makes me seem incredibly selfish, my issues are truly the smallest of them all. Phew! I've gone from being the "oh, poor thing", cry at the drop of a hat, fragile walking wounded to just the one more dog away from crazy dog lady wandering the aisles of Safeway when she gets older...and, believe me, that is an improvement.
No, now, I can be the supportive friend: the one who talks the newly separated one off the proverbial ledge where she hovers between insane anger and utter despair. Reminding her that yes, there is life out there and by taking each day, one step at a time, you make it through 24 hours, and then 48 and then a week and amazingly, one day you will be on the other side, serving as the rock for her friend that will be going through the same thing.
I can also now be the friend who plays Wing Man to her married friend's subtle reminder to the not so subtle unhappily married housewife that her husband is off limits. This friend, who is truly, without a doubt, one of the most naturally beautiful women ever...but that doesn't protect her from wondering how susceptible might any husband be to the overt appreciation and flirting by someone other than his wife of 25+ years. Playing a role in the type of game play that makes 4 star generals jealous proved once again that the dumbest move a person ever makes is to cross a smart woman. Without saying a direct word or even using a threatening tone of voice, the message is relayed loud and clear "He is married. He is happy and he is VERY well taken care of". And then, serving as the friend that assures her life is the way it is supposed to be for her...that while the world around her seems to be collapsing with friends and family members filing through family law offices like the turnstile at Wal-Mart...she actually has what works...a husband who loves her, and the common sense to remind him of that from time to time.
Maybe life isn't supposed to be easy. If it were, we'd all become complacent and not appreciate the people and experiences that make us smile every day. While I hate that any of my friends have to experience grief, sadness, or even uncertainty, those challenges are what keep us getting up each morning, ready to take on the day. Granted, that day will always start at Starbucks and end with a glass of wine, but hey, whatever it takes to get you through...that, and a great group of girlfriends!
As I thought about our latest adventure out in the real world (the world that exists outside of my one friend's kitchen, where we drink wine, laugh and our problems don't seem quite so overwhelming) I was reminded once again that everyone has issues, and really, and this makes me seem incredibly selfish, my issues are truly the smallest of them all. Phew! I've gone from being the "oh, poor thing", cry at the drop of a hat, fragile walking wounded to just the one more dog away from crazy dog lady wandering the aisles of Safeway when she gets older...and, believe me, that is an improvement.
No, now, I can be the supportive friend: the one who talks the newly separated one off the proverbial ledge where she hovers between insane anger and utter despair. Reminding her that yes, there is life out there and by taking each day, one step at a time, you make it through 24 hours, and then 48 and then a week and amazingly, one day you will be on the other side, serving as the rock for her friend that will be going through the same thing.
I can also now be the friend who plays Wing Man to her married friend's subtle reminder to the not so subtle unhappily married housewife that her husband is off limits. This friend, who is truly, without a doubt, one of the most naturally beautiful women ever...but that doesn't protect her from wondering how susceptible might any husband be to the overt appreciation and flirting by someone other than his wife of 25+ years. Playing a role in the type of game play that makes 4 star generals jealous proved once again that the dumbest move a person ever makes is to cross a smart woman. Without saying a direct word or even using a threatening tone of voice, the message is relayed loud and clear "He is married. He is happy and he is VERY well taken care of". And then, serving as the friend that assures her life is the way it is supposed to be for her...that while the world around her seems to be collapsing with friends and family members filing through family law offices like the turnstile at Wal-Mart...she actually has what works...a husband who loves her, and the common sense to remind him of that from time to time.
Maybe life isn't supposed to be easy. If it were, we'd all become complacent and not appreciate the people and experiences that make us smile every day. While I hate that any of my friends have to experience grief, sadness, or even uncertainty, those challenges are what keep us getting up each morning, ready to take on the day. Granted, that day will always start at Starbucks and end with a glass of wine, but hey, whatever it takes to get you through...that, and a great group of girlfriends!
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
Something borrowed, something blue, something in a flask...
There’s some famous quote from some even more famous movie (whose title is escaping me right now…must not have had my fill of brain food, yet…aka jelly beans) that goes something like “I try to get out but they keep pulling me back in”…Oh yeah, The Godfather. And, while I can’t even begin to compare my former husband’s family to the Italian mafia, the sentiment is actually very real right now.
While my FH and I are divorced, I didn’t divorce his family and am still very close to them (much to the ever growing chagrin of the FH GF). By the same token, however, my FH is also pretty tight with members of my family so the ball goes both ways. Of course, I am much more sane and level headed than the Amazon so while I may drink more when he is at a get together (heck, I drink at those anyhow so what’s new?!) I do know he is still the father of my children so I need to suck it up! And, whenever she’s around, there is a whole new level of comedy so really, bring her whenever he wants!
My brother-in-law (brother of FH) got married this past weekend so let’s just suffice it to say, every envelope of sanity was pushed to its extreme limits. The couple of the day has waited a very long time to find one another (he is 39, she is 35) so the level of special was incredibly high. There would be no spotlight stealing at this wedding! However, drama and the Amazon GF seem to go hand in hand so we were all a little cautious. Did I mention the wedding reception was going to be relatively dry (as was the rehearsal dinner!)?
While I wasn’t in the wedding, both of my kids were, and I was in charge of the favors, had the bride to be stay at my house the night before the wedding and was the locale for the family girls getting ready day of…let’s just say I was involved. I realize, to the average reader, that may seem a bit extreme, well…who am I kidding…that is nuts! But, it is the way it is. I totally get that the Amazon GF may not like my involvement but since it doesn’t seem to be changing and well, killing me wouldn’t really help her cause, she just needs to deal.
Her version of dealing, of course, means coming to the wedding in a thigh high bright red, one sleeved dress with 5 inch stiletto rhinestone encrusted pumps and an attitude to match. I should mention here that the wedding was at 1:00 in a church…with the reception…in a church. And, the colors of the wedding were blue…very sedate blue…Of course, the differences between my Barbie Blond hair and classy blue paisley dress and Amazon’s ready for an evening in Vegas ensemble were very evident as we sat in the front row (by assignment) just 3 people apart. For those who missed it, the fact we were at the reserved family table together at the front of the room, they got a second opportunity to ogle at the zoo characters known as the 1st wife and the wanna be wife.
My cheek hurt from biting it, my hands were sore from clenching and my brain was fried trying to make sense of my life…but the wedding was beautiful, my little groomsmen and ring attendant had an amazing time and my future former sister-in-law had the day dreams are made of. And, I once again, was able to show myself and the world (or the small portion we inhabit) that I really am a class act.
While my FH and I are divorced, I didn’t divorce his family and am still very close to them (much to the ever growing chagrin of the FH GF). By the same token, however, my FH is also pretty tight with members of my family so the ball goes both ways. Of course, I am much more sane and level headed than the Amazon so while I may drink more when he is at a get together (heck, I drink at those anyhow so what’s new?!) I do know he is still the father of my children so I need to suck it up! And, whenever she’s around, there is a whole new level of comedy so really, bring her whenever he wants!
My brother-in-law (brother of FH) got married this past weekend so let’s just suffice it to say, every envelope of sanity was pushed to its extreme limits. The couple of the day has waited a very long time to find one another (he is 39, she is 35) so the level of special was incredibly high. There would be no spotlight stealing at this wedding! However, drama and the Amazon GF seem to go hand in hand so we were all a little cautious. Did I mention the wedding reception was going to be relatively dry (as was the rehearsal dinner!)?
While I wasn’t in the wedding, both of my kids were, and I was in charge of the favors, had the bride to be stay at my house the night before the wedding and was the locale for the family girls getting ready day of…let’s just say I was involved. I realize, to the average reader, that may seem a bit extreme, well…who am I kidding…that is nuts! But, it is the way it is. I totally get that the Amazon GF may not like my involvement but since it doesn’t seem to be changing and well, killing me wouldn’t really help her cause, she just needs to deal.
Her version of dealing, of course, means coming to the wedding in a thigh high bright red, one sleeved dress with 5 inch stiletto rhinestone encrusted pumps and an attitude to match. I should mention here that the wedding was at 1:00 in a church…with the reception…in a church. And, the colors of the wedding were blue…very sedate blue…Of course, the differences between my Barbie Blond hair and classy blue paisley dress and Amazon’s ready for an evening in Vegas ensemble were very evident as we sat in the front row (by assignment) just 3 people apart. For those who missed it, the fact we were at the reserved family table together at the front of the room, they got a second opportunity to ogle at the zoo characters known as the 1st wife and the wanna be wife.
My cheek hurt from biting it, my hands were sore from clenching and my brain was fried trying to make sense of my life…but the wedding was beautiful, my little groomsmen and ring attendant had an amazing time and my future former sister-in-law had the day dreams are made of. And, I once again, was able to show myself and the world (or the small portion we inhabit) that I really am a class act.
Monday, September 5, 2011
Save a horse, ride a cowboy...
I have always loved that Big & Rich Song..it combines the fun of down home country music with sex appeal...well, that is if you happen to be into cowboys, which I am. Or at least I thought I was, until my latest life in the fast lane adventure. And, to be honest, it isn't cowboys I am not infatuated with anymore but aging wanna be cowboys who I believe happen to be friends with Tank (my 1st Sugar Daddy offer). Yes, there is a story here...of course there is!
Going through a separation is hard for anyone, believe me, I know, and going through one you didn't want nor ever expect is even harder. So, when a good friend recently found herself in this situation, we all rallied and immediately fell into good girlfriend mode...which is code for "whatever she wants, whenever she needs it, however crazy it sounds..." Okay, well, maybe there is a limit to the level of crazy but you know what I mean...she shouldn't sit home and obsess about why life has handed her this hand right now and who better to help her occupy her time than her fun friends?
Weekends are always tough, especially when your kids have plans and you are contemplating a Friday night in front of the TV, watching too gorgeous for words couples fawn all over each other while you, yourself, are alone, eating potato chips right out of the bag...and then hating yourself for the grease stain you now have on your t-shirt and the extra 30 minutes you'll have to work out tomorrow to make up for your affair with the Ruffles. It is one's responsibility as a girlfriend to stage the intervention before the next outing is to the mall to buy bigger sizes with elastic waist bands. And, really, a night of country music in our area's cowboy heaven sounded good to me...so we were off.
As we were greeted by a bar full of Jack Daniels and an arena housing a mechanical bull, I figured this night could be both very entertaining and exactly what the doctor ordered...for both of us! Since I was driving, I had my one Jack & Diet early in the evening and did think, that while the bull was my 1st step to the other side during my transition from Alex, this may not be the best idea for someone who has rods in her leg so bypassed the bull and found the group we were meeting up with. I knew none of these people but hey, they love country music and were enjoying the gorgeous CA night, so hey, they were good for me.
In my white halter top, capri jeans and high heeled wedged sandals I was feeling cute but not worthy of turning heads that night so figured it could be all about the GF time. We laughed, we talked and then we met some guy named Mr. O (not kidding!). Now considering my life has not included too many big O's in the recent past, I immediately thought of Big O tires...yeah, I need help. Well, Mr. O, complete with a 10 gallon hat and the Texas flag disguised as a button up long sleeve shirt was probably very nice...and would make some woman very happy...well, maybe not, considering he mentioned his wife and his girlfriend in the same sentence. But, he was definitely not what either of us were looking for that evening. He, however, didn't quite get that and, after bragging to me that he supplies the strippers for the Hells Angels on their week long excursions to Hawaii he wanted to know if I'd go with him next time. As a stripper? I'm thinking no...I don't even take my clothes off unless the mood lighting consists of absolute darkness...and, even then I tell whoever I happen to be with "you can touch here and here...avoid the stomach, the thighs, the back...heck...just don't touch!" I laugh and say, "I'm a mom with 2 kids, jetting off to Hawaii isn't in the cards right now". I don't want to be rude but really?! His response "I'll get a sitter for them...don't worry. How about Vegas? We can fly out tonight. I'll get a private jet". Again, seriously?!
What is it about me that screams "Hey crazy man! Offer to fly me, drive me, take me away with you, please?!". Is it my shampoo? I'll change it! It can't be my clothes because I have on more than many of the chicks here. I don't get it...and was starting to think maybe riding the bull again would be less hazardous to my health than staying with Mr. O when I was saved by the ringing of the bell...well, saved by the ring would be more appropriate, as his wife walked up because she needed a drink. I almost kissed the woman...both in appreciation for rescuing me and also in sympathy because really, her husband is nuts. We quickly took advantage of the assist and walked away...as far and as fast as we could.
I have decided this is, in same way, karma...but unfairly directed at me. My grandma used to joke that we needed to find a rich old man with one foot in the grave and a cough...it was a joke...not dating advice or fortune telling. However disturbing that experience was, the night did serve it's purpose...my friend laughed, enjoyed, and forgot her troubles for a few hours at least. And, hey, outside of Mr. Anti-O, there were some really hot cowboys there so for viewing purposes alone, I will be returning...so, stay tuned.
Going through a separation is hard for anyone, believe me, I know, and going through one you didn't want nor ever expect is even harder. So, when a good friend recently found herself in this situation, we all rallied and immediately fell into good girlfriend mode...which is code for "whatever she wants, whenever she needs it, however crazy it sounds..." Okay, well, maybe there is a limit to the level of crazy but you know what I mean...she shouldn't sit home and obsess about why life has handed her this hand right now and who better to help her occupy her time than her fun friends?
Weekends are always tough, especially when your kids have plans and you are contemplating a Friday night in front of the TV, watching too gorgeous for words couples fawn all over each other while you, yourself, are alone, eating potato chips right out of the bag...and then hating yourself for the grease stain you now have on your t-shirt and the extra 30 minutes you'll have to work out tomorrow to make up for your affair with the Ruffles. It is one's responsibility as a girlfriend to stage the intervention before the next outing is to the mall to buy bigger sizes with elastic waist bands. And, really, a night of country music in our area's cowboy heaven sounded good to me...so we were off.
As we were greeted by a bar full of Jack Daniels and an arena housing a mechanical bull, I figured this night could be both very entertaining and exactly what the doctor ordered...for both of us! Since I was driving, I had my one Jack & Diet early in the evening and did think, that while the bull was my 1st step to the other side during my transition from Alex, this may not be the best idea for someone who has rods in her leg so bypassed the bull and found the group we were meeting up with. I knew none of these people but hey, they love country music and were enjoying the gorgeous CA night, so hey, they were good for me.
In my white halter top, capri jeans and high heeled wedged sandals I was feeling cute but not worthy of turning heads that night so figured it could be all about the GF time. We laughed, we talked and then we met some guy named Mr. O (not kidding!). Now considering my life has not included too many big O's in the recent past, I immediately thought of Big O tires...yeah, I need help. Well, Mr. O, complete with a 10 gallon hat and the Texas flag disguised as a button up long sleeve shirt was probably very nice...and would make some woman very happy...well, maybe not, considering he mentioned his wife and his girlfriend in the same sentence. But, he was definitely not what either of us were looking for that evening. He, however, didn't quite get that and, after bragging to me that he supplies the strippers for the Hells Angels on their week long excursions to Hawaii he wanted to know if I'd go with him next time. As a stripper? I'm thinking no...I don't even take my clothes off unless the mood lighting consists of absolute darkness...and, even then I tell whoever I happen to be with "you can touch here and here...avoid the stomach, the thighs, the back...heck...just don't touch!" I laugh and say, "I'm a mom with 2 kids, jetting off to Hawaii isn't in the cards right now". I don't want to be rude but really?! His response "I'll get a sitter for them...don't worry. How about Vegas? We can fly out tonight. I'll get a private jet". Again, seriously?!
What is it about me that screams "Hey crazy man! Offer to fly me, drive me, take me away with you, please?!". Is it my shampoo? I'll change it! It can't be my clothes because I have on more than many of the chicks here. I don't get it...and was starting to think maybe riding the bull again would be less hazardous to my health than staying with Mr. O when I was saved by the ringing of the bell...well, saved by the ring would be more appropriate, as his wife walked up because she needed a drink. I almost kissed the woman...both in appreciation for rescuing me and also in sympathy because really, her husband is nuts. We quickly took advantage of the assist and walked away...as far and as fast as we could.
I have decided this is, in same way, karma...but unfairly directed at me. My grandma used to joke that we needed to find a rich old man with one foot in the grave and a cough...it was a joke...not dating advice or fortune telling. However disturbing that experience was, the night did serve it's purpose...my friend laughed, enjoyed, and forgot her troubles for a few hours at least. And, hey, outside of Mr. Anti-O, there were some really hot cowboys there so for viewing purposes alone, I will be returning...so, stay tuned.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
Middle School Flash Back
How is it possible that I just attended my son's middle school back to school night? Wasn't it just yesterday that I was in middle school? I mean my best friend is still the same and I'm not much taller than I was then...but let's not talk about what I weighed. So really, imagine the feelings that went through my mind as I went from class to class tonight learning about the importance of the brain transformation of my 7th grader. 7th grader?! Hanging out at his locker...going to dances...playing on the sports teams...when did time speed up and I was no longer the cheerleader going to my locker, hearing my 1st boyfriend yell "Lady" as he left Biology class to meet me...(Kenny Rogers' Lady was "our song")? And, more importantly, how do I make time stand still?
I'm going to blame this incredible feeling of nostalgia for my step (or 2 or 12) backwards this week as I've actually had to sit on my hands to refrain from texting Alex. Yes, I did just put that in print...I've missed him... like not just a passing thought miss, but an actual punch to the stomach ugh kind of missing him. And, just a week after my walk on the Samantha side of the street, no strings, mind blowing time with Oh my, how good looking are you FWB. Doesn't really seem fair if you ask me. But then again, fair is for baseball and skin types...life is about taking what cards you have been dealt and seeing what kind of hand you can make out of it. And, I've never been known to fold. I should also add, I've also never won a poker tournament so maybe, just maybe, folding isn't always a bad thing.
And, while I haven't succumbed to the desire to reach out and get in touch, it has made me realize that I've been kind of full of myself in thinking that I was all Samantha (or even Carrie like) these days...when really, I still have a lot of Charlotte angst going on over Alex. I want to be ready to move on...and really do will myself to be so...being attracted to new people, going out, flirting, having fun...but when it comes to actually thinking about meeting someone who has even an inkling of a chance of being something more, I balk. If you look at my track record, you'll see that it is so....every guy I've talked about in this blog was going to be unavailable for one reason or another...easy to say "I just can't move on" if you are only hanging out with Mr. Right Now...not Mr. Right.
But, before you beat me up and tell me it is beyond time to get on with my life, remember this is the longest I've ever gone as a single adult...so really, I should be celebrated with champagne and roses (again, this is my blog so I can spin the story however I want). And, while I know it is going to take one very special guy with a strong backbone, sense of persistence, healthy ego (not to mention the other 100 things on my list) to either break down, climb over or blow up the walls I have built, when he does, boy will it be worth it.
I'm going to blame this incredible feeling of nostalgia for my step (or 2 or 12) backwards this week as I've actually had to sit on my hands to refrain from texting Alex. Yes, I did just put that in print...I've missed him... like not just a passing thought miss, but an actual punch to the stomach ugh kind of missing him. And, just a week after my walk on the Samantha side of the street, no strings, mind blowing time with Oh my, how good looking are you FWB. Doesn't really seem fair if you ask me. But then again, fair is for baseball and skin types...life is about taking what cards you have been dealt and seeing what kind of hand you can make out of it. And, I've never been known to fold. I should also add, I've also never won a poker tournament so maybe, just maybe, folding isn't always a bad thing.
And, while I haven't succumbed to the desire to reach out and get in touch, it has made me realize that I've been kind of full of myself in thinking that I was all Samantha (or even Carrie like) these days...when really, I still have a lot of Charlotte angst going on over Alex. I want to be ready to move on...and really do will myself to be so...being attracted to new people, going out, flirting, having fun...but when it comes to actually thinking about meeting someone who has even an inkling of a chance of being something more, I balk. If you look at my track record, you'll see that it is so....every guy I've talked about in this blog was going to be unavailable for one reason or another...easy to say "I just can't move on" if you are only hanging out with Mr. Right Now...not Mr. Right.
But, before you beat me up and tell me it is beyond time to get on with my life, remember this is the longest I've ever gone as a single adult...so really, I should be celebrated with champagne and roses (again, this is my blog so I can spin the story however I want). And, while I know it is going to take one very special guy with a strong backbone, sense of persistence, healthy ego (not to mention the other 100 things on my list) to either break down, climb over or blow up the walls I have built, when he does, boy will it be worth it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)