Mother's Day thoughts...

With Mother's Day approaching, a few thoughts on my mother...

I love my mother dearly. My entire life, she has told me that I am the most wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, witty human every to grace this Earth. I have confidence and positive self-esteem solely because of her tireless efforts to convince me that I am nearly flawless. And all joking and exxageration aside, I truly do appreciate the generous, yet unhealthy, amount of love that she has showered me with my entire life. She is my example of the true depth and breadth of a mother's love.

That said, the woman makes me insane sometimes.

As I've mentioned a time or two in this blog, the boyfriend is a bit quirky. Sometimes downright strange. But as anyone else who knows me can see, I find it endearing and amusing. He sometimes frustrates me (what guy doesn't), but as I've recently been reminded, all I have to do is talk to him about how I'm feeling and he completely comes through with the affection I need. In short, this is the most healthy, adult relationship I have ever had... by FAR. And , this is the most "in love" I have ever been.

It's still early. I'm not jumping the gun. Not making any life decisions. Not rushing into anything.... I'm just enjoying the feeling of really liking someone. I'm enjoying the feeling of new love.

And yet my mother feels the need to caution me everytime we talk about the boyfriend and how happy I am. She cautions me in essence, that he sounds weird and that weirdness may be cute at first and then very irritating later on.

Okay...
#1... Do you not see that I'm happy here? Would it kill you to just let me be happy, be in love, actually LIKE a guy for the first time in a long time?

#2... Is there such an imminent threat to my life's happiness that you have to focus on how one day he MIGHT irritate me? He MIGHT do a lot of things one day. So MIGHT I. Must I live my life focused on those MIGHTs right now, or could I just enjoy the fact that at least for right now, HE MAKES ME REALLY FRIGGIN' HAPPY!

#3... She has never even met him! And now, I'm not really sure I want her to because it appears that she only takes note of the negative. I'm not sure I want to subject him to that kind of scrutiny. And I sure as shit don't want to subject myself to whatever negative qualities she is sure to identify and harp on after meeting him.


I know, I know. She is only looking out for me. It's just because she loves me. No one will ever be good enough. Blah, blah, blah.

I'm seriously vowing right now, in front of God and the blogging world, that I shall NEVER tell my mother another detail about the boyfriend. I shall describe him generally and blandly so that there will be nothing for her to criticize or form an opinion on.

Can you be "dating" if you haven't REALLY been on a date?

No, follow me here, cause I think I am. Dating I mean. I think that that's what he thinks we're doing too. But there has not been a traditional, call me, ask me out, I'm coming to your house to pick you and take you somewhere kind of date (and there needs to be in the NEAR NEAR future). But I mean, yeah, we started out just hooking up but in the last few weeks, things are different. We're legitimate. We're hanging out. He's calling me. Regularly. He's starting to know my schedule and what I'm up to on the weekends. Last week he brought over wine and I cooked dinner. This week he brought over Chinese and we watched a movie. And when he went to leave, he kissed me. We didn't make out for hours on end on my couch (like last week). He just kissed me. Like, Hello, Goodbye, you kiss the person you're dating. Goodbye--I know you're tired, I don't want to keep you up, but let me kiss you. Call me Friday. Just normal. . .God, it felt nice. Almost nicer than making out for hours on end on the couch. Cause it just felt like 2nd nature. Cause I think we're dating. Maybe.

I know I said...

...no flowers necessary. And they weren't necessary.

But fellas, take a lesson from my very smooth boyfriend. When your lady tells you she's feeling a little neglected, do what he did. Listen. Take notes, and then do all the sweet things she wants... but spread them out so that she's just a little suprised every day for several days.

Nice dinner Sunday.

Quality time spent with her Monday.

Sweet words and uncharacteristic displays of affection Tuesday.

Flowers on Wednesday. At work.

Man this guy is good. I mean, I'm glowing. I'm swooning. I feel dizzy I'm so happy. He is, in my eyes, the absolute model of perfection. He has now not only met my expectations but also my hopes... and then some... Take notes everyone.

Does it make me a bad person...

...that I absolutely canNOT wait to go to my high school reunion this weekend???

I know the answer would be no if I could tell you that my excitement was a matter of wanting to reconnect with old friends. Or perhaps just curiousity about what my classmates are doing with their lives now. Or probably even if I was excited just because my reunion means a long weekend in Florida on the beach.

But I'm going to be honest here. I could care less about that crap. I am going back for one reason and one reason only.

Vanity.

The sheer joy of knowing that though I may not be THE most successful of my classmates, as an attorney, I'm bound to be in the top 5%. And while I may not be THE most attractive of my classmates, as a tall, thin blonde who has "filled out" considerably since high school, again, I'm bound to be in the top 5%. And finally, unlike the rumors that I've heard about every girl that was pretty or popular in high school, I am not married to some washed-up jock from our high school with three kids at home. No stretch marks. No left-over "baby weight". And no regrets that my husband, who at one time was the coooooolest guy in high school, is now a balding, overweight used car salesman.

OK, so yes, I am a bad person. But I still can't friggin' wait for this reunion!

Lessons from Bridget Jones

This is one of my top 5 movies. I love it because the girl is a complete social retard (as I am wont to be at times) and Colin Firth still likes her “just as she is.” I want a guy to like me just as I am!! Even with blackouts, too much drinking, and dumb irreverent text messages (see all prior posts). Bridget and I are soul sisters. Wish me luck to get my Colin Firth.

So, this post is dedicated to Bridge. We frequently think of the woman who is beautiful and has a string of steady admirers lined up to take her to fancy restaurants and swanky bars as the queen of dating, and in an enviable position. But then, when I have a steady stream of potential suitors, it’s like I can’t make up my mind whom I like well enough to actually dedicate time to. I mean, that’s time I could be spending with Sadie. Or straightening up my house. Or going to the gym. Practicing “self-care” as the author of my new self-help book calls it. What is this all about? Bridget. . .?

Remember when she holds up the G-string panties as she dresses for her book dedication party and thinks “at crucial moment, these panties would be quite attractive.” Then she holds up the huge girdle, “But chances of getting to crucial moment is greatly increased by these stomach-holding-in panties, fancied by grannies the world over.” I am reminded of this thought when I consider whether to accept a date this week with someone who is nice, attractive, smart, etc. and . . .well, I just really could not be much less interested in him. The only times in my life I’ve ever taken dates just to take them is when I’ve been so utterly miserable from the length of time since my last one, and just need one to remind myself what it’s like. And once I do it, I think “what a waste of time. I would’ve rather been cross-stitching and watching SVU.” I’m sure this wouldn’t be like that. He’s a nice guy. But is it wrong to think, while going to a nice restaurant every once in a while is nice, and drinking on a Tuesday is merited at times, that generally, in the middle of the week, I would rather engage in temperate behavior, moderation in eating and drinking, and regularly hauling my behind to the gym those 4 or 5 days, to greatly increase the chances that I can afford to expend the calories and energy and motivation I’ve been cultivating all week come the time to really have fun, on the weekend. With the new guy or even just my girlfriends? Chances of getting to date with hot guy I’m falling for are greatly increased by not engaging in 5 course meals with lukewarm guy just on principle that I’m not dating hot guy exclusively (yet). So while “dating” in theory looks like the attractive fancy G-string, the type of “dating” I want to achieve is better advanced by busting out the granny panties, doing my sit-ups and cardio during the week, and turning down dates with lukewarm guy. But I know I should go.

I just don’t see the point in wasting my dog time, my me time, my Tivo time, my calories, or my buzz. . .on someone I’m not sure about. Oh shut up, Molly, it’s one date. I can already hear the angry posts from friends who haven’t been offered dates this week. (Ladies, move to Savannah. You’ll soon learn what a catch you are in a much more limited environment. It’s not me that’s so great, it’s just that the market is not exactly flooded with single, young, professional, yet still mildly attractive women.)

The little things...

It really is the little things that matter most.

I've been feeling taken for granted and ignored. I knew that what I needed to feel better was for him to spoil me back a little bit. I said I wanted flowers and a romantic date. So I wouldn't feel like things were so one-sided.

It's amazing how a particular feeling can consume your entire day, consume every thought... and yet you can still completely misjudge what it is you're really wanting.

Tonight there was no hot date. No flowers. Not even dinner. I saw him for all of about an hour, and yet, it was everything I've been needing from him.

As it turns out, what I needed was just to see that look in his eyes. The one where he stares at me just a little longer than normal and smiles. The one where it almost seems as if I can see into his soul. The one that tells me how grateful he is to be with me... and then one of those really long hugs. The kind he gives right before he tells me that I'm the best part of his day. And he rests his head on my shoulder, lets out a deep breath and says, "You really are my favorite person."

Tonight I was reminded of how he just absolutely melts me. The way he has from our very first date. No flowers or spoiling necessary. Just those little moments.

My vocabulary lesson of the weekend...

See, for the last 20-some years (my entire life), I have been under the impression that the word "disappoint" meant to fail to meet the expectations of another. This weekend, I learned that I was wrong. You see, it also means to fail to meet the hopes of another.

ILLUSTRATION:
Your boyfriend, after weeks of being so completely stressed out that he has done absolutely zip for you, promises you an "evening to make up it". You discuss that given how much you've been doing for him lately as compared to how non-existent his reciprocation has been, that this "make-up date" needs to really be something. The date to end all dates, if you will.

Now, you're HOPING that he will come through, but you also know that so far as what you have experienced in the relationship so far, the height of his romanticism is... well, a little lacking. You EXPECT him to fall short of anything truly spectacular, landing somewhere closer to average... though you HOPE he will surprise you.

See, in that situation, I thought, "How could I possibly be disappointed when I KNOW he's not going to do anything spectacular?"

But, not surprisingly, I was disappointed, and this morning I confirmed on Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary that "disappointed" was, in fact, the appropriate word to describe my feelings because although he did not fail to meet my expectations, he SO failed to meet my hopes.

The perils of drunk friends: "Hey Sex Maniac"

One of the perils of drunk friends is that they will get drunk and think it's funny to jeopardize what could be a foundling relationship. For instance, by forbidding YOU from drunk-dialing the object of your affection, who is out of town for the weekend, but then instead thinking that it is somehow more appropriate to text-message them something like "Hey sex maniac RTEQTERDFAS TV." For instance. And then, as you're looking over their shoulder ('cause you don't even know how to text message, not really being a text-message, but more of a drunk-dialing, kind of gal), when I just thought my friend (we'll call him Devil) was messaging Hey sex. . .I thought maybe "Hey sexy" which in my slightly intoxicated state, seemed ok and cute and affectionate, I did not think it would turn into "hey sex maniac." I mean, what the hell does that say to Object of my Affection? It either says. . .well, she's obviously thinking about the next time she can molest me. . .or, wow, her friends are really drunk and they clearly know all about every incident that's ever taken place between us (and all my blog readers, too, sweetie). The REAREWQERWQE part was Devil getting lazy and frustrated with my cell phone's obscure messaging functions, me demanding that he erase everything, and then instead of fixing it to at least be a coherent message, then just hitting send. What the hell did you do that for?! Jackhole. So, today when I wake up and realize that a not-so-cute message was in fact sent to Object of Affection, when I am trying to play it cool, and it wasn't even me doing it. . .I was mortified. Not as mortified as I have been with Object (read the black out post), but mortified nonetheless. (Devil incidentally, asked me this morning if I had called Object at any point later in the evening, him having called it a night early. "No," I said. "Good girl." "Um, yeah, but you text-messaged him something dumb from my phone, remember that part?" "Yeah, but that's sweet, it shows you're thinking about him." Um no.)

Anyway, so Object calls me today (from Talladega. . .yes, he's at a Nascar function. . .and you know what, it really DOES sound cool when they come around the track). After talking to me for a minute, he goes, "Well, I got a message from you last night, but I don't really understand it all." "What?" I play dumb. "A voice message?" "No, a text message." "What? I don't know how to leave text messages." (Which is true.) He laughed and said, "You don't remember?" and I said, "Um, did you get a message from me?" Then, something happened on the other end, and he said, "Hey I'll call you when I get back." Dammit. He DOES know how to retrieve them. So, the story is. . .my dumb drunk ex-friend (from Object's perspective, I'm going to say it's my female friend Reporter, so at least he thinks I'm not flaunting every detail of every moment we make out with Devil, a guy, but instead, with my girlfriend, Reporter, which somehow seems better) decided it would be cute to text-message him, and before I could stop her and wrestle the phone from her hands, she had sent him a much incoherent message that started out "hey sex maniac." The gibberish was me wrestling the phone out of her hands. I already set the story up by telling him how drunk she was last night and that I was babysitting her. I can then truthfully say. . .I didn't send the message. We were talking about you, but it was, in fact, my dumb drunk friend whose ass I'll be soon kicking. Which is true.

PS Object has endured a lot of mortification and idiocy from me on my part and drunkenness thusfar, and the boy is still calling me. I don't think will seriously jeopardize whatever we have going. . .which is a good quality in a man. Being able to indulge, tolerate, and even find endearing the ridiculous things I do on a regular basis. But this time, it wasn't really my fault!!

Lessons of the day...

...which will surely be forgotten tomorrow:

Do not offer unsolicited advice. It is almost always unwanted, and as with most advice, it will almost surely be disregarded anyway.

Do not ask questions that you do not really want the answer to. And as a corollary, do not ask questions unless you are sure that you already know the answer and can live with it.


And the epiphany of the day... if you'll only look, God really does send you little hints to solve the problems you are facing in your life.

What to wear...

Age old question... how does one dress for a date in their own home???

As in, you're cooking a guy dinner and its early enough on in dating that you want to look nice, you want to impress him. But you're dressing up to essentially cook dinner (always accompanied by the risk of cooking stains) and to stay in your own home.

You don't want to be too dressy so that it looks like you tried too hard. But you don't want to be too casual such that it looks like you didn't try at all.

And do you where shoes? I mean, it's not like you're going anywhere?

Oh, this old thing. . .

So, I have secured a dinner "date" (is it a date?) with Scotty the Hottie. Oh yeah, he can NEVER EVER EVER have this link. For tomorrow. After pumping all my girlfriends for foolproof recipes to win a man's heart (thanks to Meg for the Chicken Parmigiana), I am now down to the finishing touches of my meal planning. . .dessert. Now, herein lies the problem. You're already making dinner, making salad, getting wine, getting candles, cleaning your house, your dog, and making sure everything smells good (all explicit instructions from ME and Meg). . .and you think, "Gosh is it going to be just a bit over the top to make some crazy fancy dessert too?!" So, the dilemma is. . .make something that is phenomenally good yet seems effortless and simple. . .whether it is or not. . .it's what I call the "oh, this old thing" principle.

How many of us have spent hours, nay, days thinking of the perfect outfit to wear to a party or a night out on the town where you know you're going to see HIM. Now, it's not a "date," you can't bust out a cocktail dress. You don't want to go with jeans. . .or do you? You have to achieve that perfect level of this is adorably cute and you can't stand not to look at me, yet, it looks like I just threw it on and hardly bothered with myself to the untrained eye, while in fact, this disheveled, slightly casual, look really took very deliberate and devoted effort and could not be achieved in fewer than 76.5 minutes. We've all done it. I'm trying to look cute, but not like I tried to look cute. "Oh, this old thing" would have been what our mothers would have said. I am trying to apply same principle to dessert now. Oh, this old thing. . .I just whipped it up. Oh no, really, it was no trouble at all. You'd be embarrassed how easy it was (again, whether this is true or not). I want to impress him, but not like I tried too hard to impress him. I want him to think Wow, without thinking uncomfortable, obsessive, she spent the last 3 days preparing for this wow. . .I want, in short, to look like the effortless domestic/sex goddess that I am, no matter how much effort it actually takes me!! I'm breezy, I'm casual. . .I want to take trouble, without it seeming like I took trouble, but still have the man be so helpless in my domestic realm that regardless of how little trouble he thinks I took, he is still amazed and in wonderment because he could not possibly achieve the same result and hence, therefore, and ergo. . .he needs me in his life. Voila.

Ok, off to the grocery.

Being a grown-up...

OK, I'll admit it... I like Britney Spears. As in, listening to her CDs actually improves my mood just about any time... I also like cheesy, bad chick flicks like "Bring It On" or yes, Britney's movie "Crossroads"... I love Lucky Charms cereal, and I still like to color in a coloring book on occasion... and I have a crush on Prince William, OK.

In fact, I'm not at all ashamed to admit that I like a lot of really childish, silly things.

So here I am. 26 1/2 years old. An attorney. Paying all my own bills. About to buy my first home... ostensibly an adult. Heck, I'm even dating a man in his early 30s for crying out loud... And yet, I really and truly like things that even most 14 year old girls would be ashamed to admit that they liked.

Does that make me immature? Cheesy? Not an adult?

For a while, I thought yes. I thought it said something about where I was in my life, how "grown-up" I was or how "grown-up" I was ready to be. And then today at lunch I saw a group of women wearing red hats and purple outfits, a Red Hatter's Club. For those who don't know, it's a social organization for women over 50 that encourages its members to go out, where a red hat, shamelessly pair it with flashy yet unmatching purple outfits and do as they please... embracing their mature, "golden years" if you will.

When you think about it, its sort of juvenile, and yet that's precisely the message that these women are trying to send - we're over 50 and dammit, we will no longer be concerned about what others think. We will put on bold, clashing colors and go out and do as we please.

So in the spirit of the Red Hatters I saw today, this evening I shall shamelessly blare Britney Spears on my drive home, perhaps pop in a cheesy chick-flick tonight, and maybe even play a game of MASH to see if the current boyfriend really will be the man lucky enough to land such a fun-loving "grown-up" as myself.

Question of the Day...

I need some input on the following question:

True or False, it is normal (or at least not abnormal) to attempt to prevent friends and family from knowing that you and your significant other (boyfriend or girlfriend) spend the night with each other.

Please chime in on this topic.

Back from Cali...

Well, I'm back from So Cal, and it was BEAUTIFUL. The weather was a little windier and colder than I expected (or packed for), but the scenery is even more beautiful that I could've imagined! Coastline for miles, rocky cliffs, green hills, flowers and plant life in every color of the rainbow.

Thursday night we went to La Jolla (pronounced la hoya) for dinner. It was dark by the time we got there, but our restaurant overlooked the ocean. Beautiful by moonlight.

Friday we spent the day at the beach. Not as nice as the East Coast. The sand is purer and silkier. But the ocean washes up piles of kelp all over, which apparently, in turn, attracts what I have affectionately named "kelp gnats". Nasty little "flies" that literally swarm around the kelp. The kelp is apparently combed up each morning, but little, smelly, gnat-covered piles are still scattered across the beach. A little gross.

Friday night was downtown San Diego. So fun. Downtown is perhaps the cleanest, youngest, most vibrant American city I've ever seen. There are stores, bars, and restaurants just bustling with people, most of whom were fairly young and attractive. And as a beach town, even the supposedly "swanky" downtown area was relatively laid back and unpretentious.

Saturday we unfortunately had rain. Quite unlucky since it only rains about 10 days PER YEAR there. I blame Whit. It has rained each time he's had people come to visit. Nonetheless, he did save the day by taking us on a Jeep tour of the city. We saw Pacific Beach, Ocean Beach, Mission Bay, downtown by day and his Naval base. We even got a tour of his ship. Very cool. By late afternoon, the rain stopped and we made the Hotel del Coronado (the Hotel del or just the del, to locals) our final stop. The del is where Marilyn Monroe filmed "Some Like It Hot". A very old-school swank hotel that can't even really be described in words. Truly "awe"-some.

Saturday night we had authentic Mexican food at "Gringos". Oh the irony of that restaurant's name. Anyway, the food seemed authentic and tasted great! Then Saturday night we went to a local Pacific Beach bar, Moondoggies. The jet lag and time difference really set in about 11pm California time each night, so there were no true late nights to speak of at this point. However, on this night, the highlight was the "scenery" inside Moondoggies. There was a woman in the bar who, I kid you not, had low-rise jeans on that covered no more than 1/3 of her ass. As in, she had a good four inches of crack sticking out the back. And from the front, she had a top on that very precarious clung to just the edges of her areola (sp?). She could not have shown more skin if she had tried, and it seemed very obvious that she WAS TRYING! Anyway, we along with every other person in the bar, stared in dismay and amusement as she shifted and posed on her bar stool until she was finally escorted out by security.

Sunday we went to Tijuana for "cheap shit". We found some here and there, but mostly we just found a very sad, poor town. Perhaps its got a different draw when you're 18 and on Spring Break, but it was without a doubt one of the saddest places I have ever seen first hand. While leaving Tijuana you literally pass signs on the highway that say "Caution" and then have a picture of a family (mom, dad and child) holding hands running. After a moment of confusion, we realized this was So Cal's version of "Slow - Children at Play", except here it means, "Caution - Mexican families fleeing across the highway". Think about it. There was obviously a large enough problem of Mexican familes get run-over on the highways while fleeing the border that these signs were needed.

Anyway, after Tijuana we went to Balboa Park. A sharp contrast. Balboa Park is a large network of park areas, museums, science centers, nature walks, and the San Diego Zoo. It was a beautiful day on Sunday, and the area was so crowded with people enjoying the sunny, beautiful day that we couldn't even find parking to get out and explore by foot. Our driving tour was still amazing though.

That night we left our fearless tour guide (Whit) to have one last girls' only night out on the town. We ventured back to the downtown area for a final "authentic" Mexican meal and a few drinks. The authentic Mexican meal was good, but I'm happy to return to my generic, Southern style Mexican now.

Then after dinner we went to a bar for some girl time. We made absolutely no attempt to talk to any boys at the bar (honestly), but amazingly, while deep in our own conversation, one of the two guys that me2 had noted was attractive came right up to us and introduced himself. Eddie (who, may I say, could be me2's ex's brother based on the resemblence) was fairly nice. He waved a friend over to even out the numbers and talk to me while he hit on me2. They bought us drinks, and though Eddie was undeniably the cuter of the two, as is often the case, the nerdier, less attractive friend turned out to be the more articulate and entertaining. After a few free drinks, the conversation got boring, so me2 and I excused ourselves to the dance floor where we stayed until closing time.

All in all, the trip was wonderful. A little tamer than me2 or I expected, but it was a restful break from our everyday lives and a fun few days with a good friend. We both agreed that San Diego was an amazing town with WAY more to see and do than we could fit into our long weekend, so that only means we have an excuse to go back someday!

Temporarily Out of Order

The writers of this blog are off for a short vacation to sunny California. Not that anyone reads this blog who doesn't already know that, but in any case...

There will be no new entries until at least Monday night, April 19th. Thereafter, you can expect a whole array of new and shocking stories, revelations, anecdotes, questions, rantings.

Cheers!

Smart Decision of the Day...

A friend has just announced that she and her boyfriend have purchased a home together. Note my use of the word "boyfriend".

As in, not fiance... Not husband... Just boyfriend.

When will women learn?

Important things we learned from Swingers

1. 2 days WAS industry standard, before Swingers. Now it's 3. Damn. It's only day 2. That explains it (no call).
2. Always take separate cars, just in case.
3. Guys are idiots when we are not around. As proof, check out the hockey video game scene and the conversation about the Big Bear and the Helpless Little Bunny. They're idiots most of the time when we are around too.
4. Sometimes, you just have no business wired into a communication system that actually works (think Jon Favreau calling Nikki, like 8 times in a row).
Most importantly,
5. Somehow, they know not to come back until you really have forgotten about them. Were truer words ever spoken?

What is up with me and Swingers allusions these days, you ask? I need relationship levity. I have now had a call, had a day of hanging out at the beach with the beautiful baby. . .and go back to waiting for another call. He did ask me when I was leaving for San Diego. . .hence, he must call tomorrow. That will be Day 3. He called on Day 3 last week too. I've also been reminded by ME that I'M the dumb schmuck who told him that my comfort level with him wasn't where it should be since our first night of drunkenness. . .thereby inducing him to take it painfully, almost ridiculously SLOW. I don't like Slow. Can you just make it real obvious whether you like me already!

Notes to Self...

-- When having a shit day, do not call Mother. She will make it worse, perhaps by insulting your boyfriend, whom she has never met.

-- Do not think of Magistrate Court as a court of "law" so much as the Romper Room of our Justice System. No, actually, in Romper Room there is order, whereas in Magistrate Court there is none... Treat it as you would a trip to Alice's Wonderland and you will escape the disillusionment I am currently experiencing.

-- It isn't a waste that I spent the last three years of my life studying to practice law. Even though I will inevitable spend the next three years of my life in Magistrate Court, where the law is wholly irrelevant, I'm sure the law will come into play somewhere down the road in my career. In any event, law school was at least a good brain teaser type exercise. That counts for something, right?

On a happier note...

In a few hours (by 7pm), I will be drinking margaritas to numb my current sense of disillusionment.

In a few days (Thursday), I will be in sunny, happy San Diego on my first real vacation since starting work.

In a few weeks (May 24th), I will be trying a case in Superior Court, where they require judges to be trained in the law and even occasionally apply it to a given case.

In a few months it will be football season and I'll be blissfully spending every other weekend in beautiful Auburn, Alabama with some of my favorite people in the world.

And in a few years, I'll have a husband and a family and much bigger concerns that the injustice of an uninjured plaintiff recovering $2500 for nothing; I'll have become too cynical and too busy with the rest of my life to even remember how unfair today seems.

Best Friendship

I have a "date," sort of, for the beach today. That is, we're both going and he told me to give him a call and we'd meet up. You realize the impending and serious problem right? In which bathing suit do I look the most svelte?

I call ME immediately. The first thing she says. . ."Don't wear the green and yellow one, you have a tendency to fall out of that one. Don't you have a pink one?" me2: "Yeah, I fall out of that one too. I wore it last week and Friend had to keep me constantly in check." me: "Ok, you know which one I like--the black one, the Wal-Mart one. It's simple and flattering." me2: "I like that one too! What an unexpected find." me: "Ok, and the blue one. . .not my favorite. Cute, but not my favorite. What else you got?" me2: "The other Target one, yellow with butterflies." me: "But are you tan enough for that?" me2: "Not quite. Ok, then I have the Banana Republic red one, just simple, the bottoms tend to sag, though I'll have to try it on." me: "No, that's one's cute, simple." me2: "Ok, cool, either the black one or the red one."

Only women would know basically every bathing suit in their best friend's collection. I just found the conversation amusing, amazing, and wonderful, that a friend could know all my bathing suits even though she hasn't seen them in 8 months and is four hours away! I picked the red one, me.

About something besides myself

I am endlessly irritated. I have this Friend: she's 30, she has a (really sweet) 5 year old from a previous marriage, she's pretty, she's in good shape, she outgoing and funny and fun to be around. And she's been dating this dud. I mean, he's just not nearly as outgoing as her. And when they were still together, I didn't hate the guy. He's fairly good-looking, and nice and everything. But he's obviously immature. He's never had a relationship last longer than 5 months, and you wonder if he's ever had a "grown-up" relationship at all. Friend tells me that he's never told a girl "I love you" except for her, and apparently, has only considered marriage at one other time (and it wasn't her. . .oddly). And Friend is very particular and choosy about who she dates and especially who she lets come around her little girl. She doesn't want to have to break up with a guy and Child to have to break up with him too. So, she makes the mistake of letting this guy (who has known her for over a year and knows she has a child "in" to her heart, if you will). . .and he knows how seriously she takes that.

Fastforward 6 months. The relationship has been on a rocks for a few weeks, at least. He's always saying stupid things, doing stupid things, she'll come and tell me what dumb, insensitive thing he did or how he emailed her and said X and she was irritated with him. Trouble in paradise. And frankly, at 6 months. . .it's TOO SOON for trouble in paradise. If you're having these stupid little petty disagreements, guess what? Maybe you don't work. I'm not trying to play like I'm the relationship guru. . .but sometimes, what doesn't work about a relationship is that you let petty little BS get to you. . .her view is, "But that's so easy to fix, why didn't he just tell me, we'll work at it, we love each other!" Friend, I say, sometimes what's "wrong" is that he can't/won't/doesn't want to work to fix it. And that's enough!! But I did nothing wrong, she says. Of course you didn't, I say, but sometimes what makes him not the right guy for you is NOT that you're not the right woman for him, but that HE CAN'T MAKE UP HIS FRIGGIN' MIND whether you are or not. And that's enough.

Two things: a) I'm 25 years old and after having a couple of relationships fail for no particular, discernible hard and fast reason other than they didn't work/the parties weren't happy, but there was seemingly no lack of "love," I have realized that. . .I want to be in a relationship where every day, each person wakes up and says, "Oh my God, I'm with HER/HIM, how friggin' lucky am I??" I am trying to get it through Friend's head that she deserves that too and that his uncertainty regarding the relationship would be enough to make me split. While it's hard to let a relationship go that you're put effort and tears and sweat and love into, you know what? Sunk Cost Theory isn't enough to save it. Let it go before you waste more time!! Sure, all relationships take work, but it shouldn't have to be this hard. . .especially before kids or affairs or separations or deaths of parents. . .all the "real" stuff that happens to "grown ups" that people in marriages have to stick it out through. I just feel like I'm too young to have to be in a relationship full of petty crap that the other person doesn't work just as hard as me to fix. . .(I'm speaking from not-too-stale experience).

b) I just called her. She's with him right now. Ok, wait. . .I bar-bysat you all last night, you couldn't find a single acceptable guy in the bar to talk to (not for a lack of contenders, may I add), I have tentatively blocked off my weekend to at least try to continue to make sure you have a good time and forget about this goober, and you're rushing headlong back into a situation that's been on-and-off for weeks?! Do you want to continue with that level of ambiguity and uncertainty, ESPECIALLY considering you have a child? Her view is, "He knew I had a child and now, Child is attached too." Well, get her unattached, Girl, and now, before she really GETS MORE ATTACHED and loses ANOTHER DADDY. I'm sorry, did I mention that #@$#face also told Friend that he wanted 2 children "of his own." That sends me off the deep end to no end. I want to pummel him. That's just biology, F$#@er.

Friend. . .by settling for less than complete, unfettered, unconditional love and affection. . .you're settling for that for Child too. And that pisses me off. Cut bait, NOW!! I know she has feelings for him. . .but. . .she is selling herself and her child short. . .and this back-and-forth crap is only setting her up for more misery. . .thoughts?

My plans for the weekend include:

Bar-bysitting: Verb. Def: when you take a girlfriend who has just endured heartache out to bars to allow her to drown her sorrows while you chaperone. Sentence: "Lisa, Derrick is a %$!#@, but let's go to Deja Groove and you just have a good time, I'll bar-bysit."

I just wanted to advertise my clever new word.

The World is Right...

...but my cell phone is not!

So last night I'm talking to the boyfriend on his cell phone when his signal dies. Moments earlier he had warned me that he was on a road where he ALWAYS loses his signal. So I hear his phone cut out and think, "He'll call me back in a second."

45 minutes later, no call. So I'm kind of thinking, "What the %@!&?" But I'm still at work so I just keep working and figure he will surely call soon. Another 30 minutes later, as I'm finally leaving work, I decide to just call him. No answer at home (where he was headed when his phone died). No answer on his cell. I leave a message. [I end with a "confident" "Give me a call when you have a chance."]

All friggin' night goes by and no phone call.

Now, I'm generally in a very happy place in my relationship. I'm confident he likes me. I know he's not a jerk, that he is in fact an amazingly sweet and thoughtful man... which is why it made me so insane last night that he hadn't called me back. I mean, what the heck could have possibly prevented him from a quick call. Isn't that standard cell phone etiquette? Is it EVER appropriate to lose a call and then think, "Eh, I wasn't really enjoying talking to that person. I'm just not going to call back."

So I make a few mental excuses for him. Mind you, I am buying none of them because, well, I'm the one making them up for him. I go to bed slightly irritated.

Then this morning I notice that my voicemail indicator on my cell phone was on, even though my phone didn't show any missed calls nor was it beeping that I had a new message. I check my voicemail, only to learn that boyfriend did in fact call me back last night and leave me a message to call him. Also, me2insav called last night and left a message too.

What the $%@&! is up with that? What good is a cell phone that only records messages but doesn't actually ring or beep at me. Heeellllllooooooooooo!

The Beer Monkey
I never realized there was a name for this mystical creature. I, too, have never seen him, but I know that he must exist. LOL! Go to http://www.newlysingle.blogspot.com

My Faith in "Man"-Kind is Restored

He called. Whew, thank God, he called. I will not perish. Better yet, I wasn't home. See, I'm breezy, I'm out at the gym, I'm doing things. . .not waiting for your call (I had to leave the house to avoid neurotically waiting for his call). He left a breezy message. I left a breezy message. I think my message was breezier. His message said something like, "Hey, it's [insert name here]. I'm in the car on the way to [insert state capital here]. Just callling to see what was going on. Nothing in particular. Give me a call back if you want." From this, I gather. . .that he wants to SEEM breezy. You know, just call me back "if you want," it's "nothing in particular." Since 2 hours had already elapsed since his call, I called back, hoping to catch him on the road still. But I didn't. . .so my message said, "Hey it's me. I take it you've reached your destination and that you got your days off. Hope you're having fun with your brother. Call me when you get a chance." See, I get to call "if I want." I delivered a more confident "when you get a chance."

Ok, there are two lessons to be learned from this: a) He can NEVER NEVER NEVER have the address to this blogspot, or it will be the blog equivalent of that painful scene in Swingers where Jon Favreau keeps calling that girl back to explain why he's left 15 messages. b) In all honesty, while he is DEFINITELY not obsessing about me the way I am about him, he is trying to abide by the 3 day rule and seem "breezy" when he calls as well. I think I'm far more neurotic than him. . .but I think he's trying hard to "do everything right" as well.

In case I haven't made it painfully clear at this point (and since all the people who read this know who I am and I don't care about them knowing), the reason I have to tread lightly with this guy is because. . .remember the black-out post. . .well, apparently, I blacked out. . .hooking up with him. . .and now, I'm like $#@$#!@%, I REALLY LIKE THIS GUY, that wasn't supposed to happen!! It's one thing when you act sketchy on purpose. . .but on accident. . .that's a whole 'nother grey area. . .anyway, as long as I'm acting bad, I wish I could remember what fun, bad things we did. . .too bad.

Blah

I am about as motivated today as, well, ...I'm not even motivated enough to put effort into making up a good analogy. I've spent the better part of my morning emailing people and surfing the Internet for inspiration, inspiration in life or just inspiration for a notable blog post. I have found neither. All I can offer you is the following link to someone else's blog that I find very amusing. It's like a male Bridget Jones diary.

http://www.newlysingle.blogspot.com

More on 7th grade

I just have to add some info about the HI-LARIOUS conversation ME and me had last night re: men and their take on all those things we overanalyze. Yes, my 7th grade situation has been going on for days now, and I have informed ME of every comment/turn of the head/smirk/remark/eye contact/non-eye contact/calling schedule/noise that my crush has said/gestured/made since the moment we met. "And so then he did this. . .and so then he said this. . .and so then, listen what he said. . .but I think he was just REALLY drunk. . ." etc. etc. etc. And of course, since ME is my personal relationship advisor, all of it leads to one conclusion. . ."What do I do next?" Translation: How do I most successfully play this game so that he will like me?! Last night, the question was. . .do I go to this NCAA championship "party" when mutual friend calls me and informs me it's all guys even though it was supposed to be a "mixed crowd"? Answer: no. You can't. You have to be cool. Being cool when it was a mixed crowd would mean going and being breezy. Being cool now means, sending the message that seeing you is not worth having to try and socialize with all your dumb friends who are absorbed in Basketball. So. . .after a 30 minute conversation about this, to add to the 2 hours of conversations we've probably collectively had about the new guy I've known. . .oh. . .10 days now. . .plus the ridiculously long emails and blogs. . .we came to the conclusion. . .

That the conversation that Guy and Mutual Friend have had about me amounts to this:

Mutual friend: So, uh. . .you and [insert my name here]?
Guy: Yeah. . .well. . .you know. . .
Mutual friend: That's cool.

Or, in the alternative:
Mutual friend: So. . .uh. . .[head jerk motion you've seen guys make when inquiring about potential hook-ups. . .chins jerks up, eyebrows raise]?
Guy: Yeah. . .well. . .you know. . .
Mutual Friend: That's cool.

You know it's true. This is the only conversation guys will ever have about chicks. Insert your name in the blank and quit obsessing, that's how it is.

It's still 7th grade...

In terms of dating, I don't think we really ever get past the 7th grade. Sometimes we even revert to 5th or 6th grade. We don't pass notes anymore. Instead we blog. Or email. Or IM. Or call each other on cell phones. Basically we're 7th graders with new technology.

And really, wouldn't be easier if we WERE back in, like, 3rd grade. Then you could pass a note and ask the fundamental question that all other questions can really be boiled down to. "Do you like me? Check yes or no." Because really, that's what we're wondering... at pretty much every stage.

You meet the guy at a bar, pass him the note. If yes, then you chat a little. Pass him the note again. If still yes, you exchange digits. He calls (this is impliedly a 3rd 'yes'), and you go out. Progressive dates take the place of note passing, for a time - him calling for another date implies a 'yes'.

Then at some point, you've become a couple. There are no more "dates" to take the place of passing the note. It becomes familiar and you wonder, "Does he still like me?" maybe the question includes the phrase "now that he knows X about me?" Or maybe the phrase "as much as I like him?" You pay painstaking attention to the little things he does in order to try to infer the answer to that question -- he introduced me to his best friend - yes; he offered to cook dinner for me - yes; he spent the entire weekend with me and THEN asked me to have dinner with him Sunday night too - yes, yes; he's going to happy hour with friends and didn't invite me - no?

And so it goes. As the relationship progresses, you could just change the note to "Do you STILL like me?" or later to "How much do you like me? On a scale of 1 to 10, with 1 being 'I'm planning to break up with you' and 10 being 'You're the person I'm going to marry... soon'"

Women realize they can't "pass the note" too often. You can't ask a guy "Do you like me?" (or some other form of that) every other day without being a freak, so instead we gossip with our girlfriends. We tell them absolutely everything you did; what you said; the tone you used; the expression on your face... and we rely on our girfriends to interpret your actions as either a "yes" or a "no". Sometimes we flat out ask, "What do you think that means?" (translation: "Does he like me?") and other times our girlfriends are on cue even without our prompting, "Oh my God, he is soooo into you!"

We're soooo still in 7th grade...

"Convenience Fees"

What exactly is "convenient" about Ticketmaster charging an extra $8.00 per ticket just for the privilege of HAVING to buy concert tickets through them???

Our Generation's Never-Ending Search for Happiness

So I read another person's blog today, and I was struck by it. http://www.ohisshe.blogspot.com/ Basically, the writer comments on how we are always looking for better, bigger, faster, and in our never-ending search for "something better", we can't seem to be happy with all that we already have. Oh how true that is. Though I like to think that I remember to stop, look around and say "thank you" for all the blessing in my life, my number one source of unhappiness is getting caught up in what I wish I had more of. More money, more stuff, more time, more adoration, more laughter.

When we focus too hard on all that's missing from our lives, OF COURSE we're never going to be happy or satisfied. But when we try to focus instead on what all we have, how far we've come, how lucky we are as compared to others, life is pretty good.

There are reminders all around us just how short life can be, and just how easy it is to miss an opportunity. Today really may be as good as it ever gets. Today really may be your last day. So rather than focusing on how much better things could be/should be/you hope will be tomorrow, why not just enjoy TODAY to the fullest and appreciate those people and things around you. If you live your life like everyone and everything around you isn't quite good enough, it's not just an insult to yourself, it's also an insult to the people and things in your life too. Heaven forbid you get so wrapped up in wishing for more that you drive away the good things you already have.

The word "entitlement" comes to mind. It has become sort of a dirty word these days. We use it to chastise those who think that they are owed something by society or our government. We refer to a person's sense of entitlement with disgust as we describe a lazy co-worker, classmate or friend. And yet, our entire generation has grown up with a sense of entitlement. We all think that we are entitled to a six-figure salary, a 4 bedroom 3 bath ranch in an upscale neighborhood, a boss who appreciates us, supportive friends who never "take" too much, parents that respect our space and independence but yet are there whenever WE need them, a significant other who is just a little too good for us but thinks of us and treats us like we're just a little too good for them, and on and on. Hell, I want all those things, and when someone or something falls short of my expectations, I feel sorry for myself.

I actually have the gall to feel pity for myself, for how life has short-changed me at that particular moment. I mean, I feel like an ass even admitting this. I literally day dream about how much better things will be one day, and yet I look back longingly on the past and think how much easier it was then, when I was younger, more carefree. Hellllooooo, it's not getting any easier as time goes on. Life isn't getting any better. My looks aren't getting any better. Really, the only thing that I can hope will get better is my attitude, my ability to appreciate and make the most of what I have. Men don't get better with age, jobs, friends, parents, our bodies. It all gets harder with age. And think about older people who are truly happy. It's not that they have more stuff or whatever. It's all in their attitude. They appreciate the things around them, they're friendly and generous, they see the good in things that seem to have very little good.

I apologize for the soap box. It just really hit me this morning how easy it is to forget just how lucky we are and to, instead, be focused completely on what MORE we wish we had. There will always be something "more" out there, but typically, "more" in one respect means "less" in another. I guess the real question is what is "enough". Or maybe the question isn't even what is "enough", but rather how can I make the most of what I already HAVE. It seems to me that that was the question my parents and grandparents asked, and I'm not really so sure that they had it all that wrong.

Does competition raise a guy's "stock?"

Ok, here's my weekly observation. After recently being a part of a "date auction" for charity (yes, I put together a "date" package with local business contributions of meals, spa packages, etc. and let myself be auctioned off for the Boy Scouts) and meeting a lot of singles and being hit on A LOT this week, how did I narrow the playing field into which guy I was actually interested in? Well, there was cheesy, "could I make it more obvious?" guy, who touched my arm or my hand every 2.3 minutes as if on schedule and told me wanted me to be "that girl" who made him miss the Sopranos (is that supposed to be romantic, by the way?). There was "you'll definitely go for more than $1000" guy who I think was trying to make it clear how very attractive he found me. But then there was the "mysterious stranger" who sort of swooped in and has got me all a-flutter. Why, you ask? I mean, me2insav, you like nothing more than constant adoration and attention, so wouldn't cheesy Sopranos guy and "you'll definitely go for more than $1000" guy be RIGHT UP YOUR ALLEY? Especially considering that I met "mysterious stranger" guy last week and actually blew him off to go talk to the never-before-mentioned on this blog "army guy," about whom some of you may know. Well, mysterious stranger guy wasn't so mysterious then, and he since has become so. Here's why.

At the date auction, my friend April turns to me and says "Who is that guy? He is the best-looking guy to come walking in here yet." I look up and with slowly-dawning delight realize that it's MY guy, the one I invited and is here because of ME. I realize that MY GOD, he is COMPLETELY AND UTTERLY DREAMY and how did I miss this before?!? I told April to "step off" and promptly went over to showcase my adorable date auction outfit (strapless black top with embroidered pink hearts on the front and pink ribbon to tie around the waist, Bleu Belle, Broughton St., Savannah, pink silk skirt and sassy hot pink ankle strap sandals, Banana Republic). Ironicly, his stock just shot through the roof as soon as I realized that hello? Every other woman in the room was scoping him. (And I secretly wonder if mine went up because I was "unavailable" the other night as I flounced off to talk to "army guy.") Now, to be fair, he really is dreamy. But I just don't understand how I missed the full dreamy impact of him last Saturday. Anyway, maybe there really wasn't any "competition" because I think he's really just into me, but there was certainly interest being expressed from a variety of sources, not the least of which was, at that point, ME. More updates later. . .yum.

Lessons In Love

-- LESSON #1--
When on a date, or when trying to woo a potential suitor/suitee, try not to get so drunk that any of the following happen:
(a) You remove any portion of your clothing as part of a "dare" or "game";
(b) You end up crying... particularly over past failed relationships;
(c) You feel the need to repeatedly slur the phrase, "No, no, no, but you need to know, that I REALLY, REALLY like you. Please don't think I'm just drunk. I REALLY, REALLY like you."
(d) You wake up naked next to that person (or someone else) and don't remember how you got there;
(e) You discuss your analysis (thereby confirming that you've already thought about this) of what your potential children would look like;
(f) You enter their phone number and/or name into your cell phone incorrectly such that it reads something like "STEVFQ - 770-354-99023";
(g) You puke on them.

Please note: in order to protect the innocent (and not so innocent), the offending parties described above have not been identified by name. And yes, I really do know people who have done each of the above. Some people are guilty of multiple of the above... I personally, plead the Fifth.

Crazy College Gal at 25

Ok, see, you can never forward this link to anyone I may be interested in dating, deal? But you guys, seriously, I needed to be drunk and stupid when I was 18, like everyone else. . .I have instead taken it upon myself to be drunk and stupid as a young professional, what a good idea!? But can anyone else identify with this. . .I have NEVER NEVER NEVER blacked out and forgotten things from drinking before. . .and I can put a few back and I've had my drunken times. But TWICE in the last 2 weeks, I have gotten drunk to oblivion and forgotten significant portions of the night's events. I mean, I've forgotten stuff and had ME remind me of it the next day. . ."Remember when you said this?" "Oh yeah, yeah, it's coming back." But the last couple times. . .well, I mean, on my 23rd birthday, I blacked out throwing up, and didn't know I had until ME told me. . . I certainly felt enough like ass to have thrown up.

But those are the only three times I've ever blacked out. Anyone had this phenomenom, where ALL OF A SUDDEN without warning, you start blacking out parts of the night's events, even though you never have before and you've been plenty drunk MANY MANY times. And I don't see it coming. . .there's nothing different about how I'm getting drunk now vs. before. Maybe Stoli Vanilla is not really my friend. A shame too, she's SUCH a GREAT FRIEND. Also, I want to clarify. . .I don't mean, I get drunk and then WANT to forget the night's events and therefore use drunkeness as an excuse. . .I mean, I REALLY DON'T REMEMBER, HAVE NO CLUE beyond a certain point.

Thought of the Day

I don't buy this crap that men are unable to show emotion in the same way as women. Here's why -- I've known men who are so attached to a dog that they will actually hug all over it, kiss it profusely, tell it repeatedly how much they love it, tell the dog what "a good girl she is, yes she is", heck, even carry on a full conversation with the dog (including speaking FOR the dog)...

Hypothetically speaking, if I were to be lying in bed next to such a guy, and upon waking up, he were to shower the dog with said affection (hugging and kissing the dog profusely, all the while telling the dog how much he loves her and how beautiful she is), I would imagine the following thought would run through my head... hypothetically speaking, of course...

What the %$*#!!! He better roll over (the guy, not the dog) in a few seconds and shower me with that sort of affection. Oh my God, I'm actually jealous of my boyfriend's dog! This is absurd. Helllloooooo, any day now, can it be my turn?!?!

In fact, hypothetically speaking, I think I might actually say this, "OK, is it my turn now?" And again, still hypothetically speaking, I would imagine that said boyfriend would give me a single hug, a single kiss, laugh, tell me "Oh, you're a good girl too" and then get up.

Apparently said hypothetical boyfriend did not realize that I was NOT JOKING!

Oh, the privilege of admin capabilities. I'm Me's better half, read: best bud and we will probably be the only ones to ever post because we like hearing ourselves pontificate on life OH-SO-MUCH. We amuse the heck out of ourselves, and can only hope to be able to reach one or two others to share our amusement. I'd just like to point out in this first post that I am a blog idiot, and posted my comments to the "are women on the same dating cycle?" post to the shack-bag post, so the first three comments on the shack-bag post are actually directed to the "dating cycle?" question. Now with admin capabilities, I never have to be confined by character limits, wrong blog links faux pas, or other constraints again!!

The Problem with Shack Bags

So at some point in a relationship, you can begin to predict when you are most likely going to end up shacking with the person you're dating. (Shacking, as in spending the night). But there's this awkward time frame in any relationship where it's not SO DECIDED that you're welcome to stay with them any time you want, and so you're left with three options:

1. Just ask them if you should bring a shack-pack.
2. Pack one just in case.
3. Pack nothing, knowing you will be inconvenienced the next day by your lack of "supplies" and clean clothes.

I think this problem is worse for girls because it's just impossible to travel light as a woman. Particularly when you're staying at a guys house. If I were to get drunk and need to crash at a girlfriends house, there would already be the necessary hair dryer, smelly lotions, and probably even an article of clothing or two that I could borrow to get me through. But not so much with a guy...

So here are the problems with these options:
1. If you ask whether you'll be shacking, you sort of put the person on the spot, to where they can't say, "Uh, no. I don't want you to stay with me." Or if they do (even if it's for some very practical, legit reason), you can't help but feel stupid and take it personally. And even if they say yes, it's still just goofy to ask about.

2. There's no subtle way to bust out the prepacked bag if it does come out. I mean, how does that work. At whatever point in the night it becomes understood that you are staying, do you bust out with, "OK cool, hold on while I run out to my car to get the shack-bag that I packed just in case but wasn't positive I would need." How bad does that look? Or, the next morning do you just go out and get it and try to pretend like you just simply forgot something in your car?

3. And obviously packing nothing has its problems. No deodorant. No toothpaste. No clean underwear.