Unintended Side Effect

Recently I was thinking how much I missed this group of gals I used to hang out with all the time. We would go to wine tastings, events, dinners, parties and just generally have a great time. I met them all at a time when I really needed some friends and I’ve been grateful for them ever since. So it startled me to realize I hadn’t done anything with them as a group in quite some time.

So I opened up Facebook (which is in fact, still the devil) and cruised on over to a few of their profiles to see what is new in their lives. And what I found were parites, events, wine tastings, dinners, and general fun. And everyone was there… except me. First I thought that maybe the events had been for different groups of their friends. No need to be paranoid after all. So I flipped through photos and laughed along with them. But then the photos revelead the ugly truth. All of my beloved girl friends were there. All except for me.

Then I realized that they don’t answer my emails anymore. And most of them have found reasons not to come when I organize something. The evidence is overwhelming. I have been cut out.

And so I’m left wondering why. I do shower and brush my teeth on a daily basis so I’m pretty sure I don’t smell. I’m always glad to see them. I care about what happens in their lives. And once upon a time when I had drama in my life, I didn’t go dumping it all over them. In fact, only one real thing has changed since these girls first welmcomed me into their group. LC.

When I met these women we were all swinging singles. Some of us were dating, some of us weren’t bothering anymore. We’d talk about vacations, bad dates, the latest guy we weren’t going to go out with again, etc. But there was more to us than that, or so I thought. Except now it’s like a Sesame Street game of “which of these is not like the others?” and the different one is me. So when they joined a new wine tasting group, no one told me. And when someone threw a crazy hat party, I wasn’t invited. I did a quick sniff test and I still smell quite delightful, so this is the only possible reason I have.

I am left to assume that when LC and I moved in together, I no longer qualified to be one of the girls. And now I’m wondering… is that really the reason I’m no longer a standard invitee when the girls are going out? Do they think LC and I are attached at the hip? Or worse, that I have nothing in common with them anymore? Did they simply never like me that much? Or am I now excluded from their social circle because I’m no longer single? Is losing my friends an unintended side effect of being with LC?

I won’t ever really know the answer. I am not rude enough to call someone up and ask why I don’t get invited to their parties anymore. And I’m not presumptuous enough to invite myself to a wine tasting or a dinner when I’ve been left off the list. I will not question why they are all mysteriously busy the night of my first party in the new apartment. Instead I will sit quietly at home with LC and nurse my wounds. And I will miss my friends.

Trust

Trust is…. well, weird. It’s fragile. It’s easily destroyed. And yet it is the cornerstone of most relationships we have. That seems an awfully weighty job for something that breaks so easily. But then, trust is also up for individual interpretation. Some people trust easily and trust long. Some people never learn to trust. And some people switch between trusting and not trusting when a butterfly flaps its wings in China. Or something. And pretty much everything in between too.

Once I had a friend who I was just getting to know. They told me something important and confidential. I meant to help, sure. But the bottom line was that I blabbed. And to a very unfortunate person. Trust was lost. The friendship never really developed after that. Maybe because I broke the trust. Or maybe because I couldn’t let go of the fact that I did it. Maybe because I was overly sensitive of trust issues and just tanked the whole thing. Trust is just funny like that.

Trust in a romantic relationship is even funnier. For me, I trust slowly. In the beginning, I tend to believe everything is crap unless proven otherwise. I look for holes in the armor. I look for reasons not to trust. But eventually, at some mystical point, a man magically proves himself to me. And then there is trust.

At that point, once upon a time, there used to always be trust forever after. Unless there was some pretty hard black and white proof that there shouldn’t be. It used to be that from that point of trust, I would simply choose to believe what that man told me. Even if it didn’t always make sense. Even if I wasn’t always sure. Because he was my partner and I trusted him.

Of course, someone wrecked that. In quite a fantastic way. And now, well now I can’t seem to make myself believe anything anymore. If faced with a situation where something seems wrong, I will believe that. No matter what he says. No matter who he is. No matter how badly I hate being this way.

And is that really fair? Should every man from now until whenever really have to pay because one man shattered my trust all those years ago? Am I beyond believing my spidey sense and going with my gut and into ridiculousness now? Have I forgotten how to trust?

Trust is a decision. It’s a conscious choice we make with people in our lives. And sometimes, when presented with a situation, it’s right there staring you in the face. Do I choose to trust or not?

So my dears, it’s time for another question for you. How do you choose to trust? How do you choose not to? When do you start and stop? Talk to me about trust and how it works in your lives. Inquiring minds want to know.

What would you believe?

Random disclaimer: Written for a friend! Please take off your tinfoil hats. I’m fine.

What would you do if he said he wasn’t in love with you? What if he revealed this after countless “I love you”s? What if he said he thought he could be, that he thought he was heading to that place… but then he never got there? What would you do if after so much time together and in the middle of so many plans you had made together… if he said he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you?

What if it hit home? What if it explained things that had been at the edges of your mind? What if it made some things make sense?

What if you were head over heels for him? What if you had believed in the two of you… in a relationship? What then?

And then, what if he took it back? What if he said it was a mistake? What if you couldn’t believe it so you called him up and asked if it was really true, and he said no?  What if he said he regretted it the moment it came out of his mouth? What if he said and did all the right things then? What if he charged at all those plans again full tilt? What if he said he did it because he thought you’d be happier without him? What if he said he never meant it?

What would you believe?

I don’t have the answers for this person. Just the hope that this may help her find peace.

Identity Crisis

My blog is suffering from an identity crisis.

Back in January of 2008, I was a single girl going on bad date after bad date.  Some funny, some simply tragic… but still single all the while. This blog was all light and funny then. But now, I’m not-so-single anymore. And while I still have things to say, I’m not sure what to do with this space. (Hence the recent bout of silence.)

So, dear readers, you tell me… should I continue to write but cover more of my life? Should I write only about my relationship and relationships/dating in general, or should I take my ball and go home? What do you (or don’t you, as the case may be) want to read?

By any other name

When we were younger, we girls would proudly announce that we had a boyfriend. Chances are everyone already knew, but we’d throw the term around with abandon. Our friends would giggle and our fathers would wince every time we mentioned our boyfriend. But it was never a problem, because that’s what he was.

However, as we get older, it seems maybe it’s not such a cut and dried deal anymore. Husband is a fine thing to trot out in polite conversation, but the older we get, the odder boyfriend feels. It feels silly and juvenile. And yet, we struggle because there is no other word for us.

I tend to not use a label. I tend to just use my current flame’s name and stare people down. For example,  I would say “Ed* and I are going away for the weekend.” Then just stare. You would see them piecing together that statement and parsing out the meaning. Most of the time if you stare meaningfully enough, the next logical thing will not happen. But sometimes it does. If the person you’re talking to is not quite fast enough or perhaps has not had enough caffeine, it can happen. “Oh? Who’s Ed?”

And there you have it. Who is Ed? Is he your current, or the guy you’re dating, or some dude, or your boyfriend, or muffin, or the homeless guy you gave a dollar to this morning? How do you explain Ed?

As a woman in my 30s, I have a hard time uttering the word boyfriend.  It still reeks of high school and innocence and something I’m just not anymore. Even more horrifying, I have found myself, as a woman in my 30s, looking a man in the eye and having to say “So does this mean you’re my boyfriend?” It just seems like at our age there should be a more dignified term for this. Or… well, something.

I have noticed that out in the great world wide web, I’m not the only person struggling with this. So any suggestions are welcome. What do you think we should be calling those with whom we are in a relationship now that we are no longer 21?

*There is no Ed. This was just the random name I managed to pull from a hat this morning. Sorry to disappoint.

No one said it would be easy

In my perfect little vision of the world, it will be easy to tell when (and if) I have found a potential life partner. I will magically realize that this person is different from all those who came before. Like pieces of a puzzle fitting together, it will just be right. And one of the ways I will know it’s right is because it will be easy.

Now don’t think I have taken too much cough medicine… I’m not high. I know any relationship requires work and I know nothing will be flawless. So just relax over there.

I’m saying that in the beginning, things should be simple. And for the most part, it should be easier than not. The beginning of my relationship with this potential mate will not be marked by trouble or tears or potential heartbreak. It will be that fuzzy glowy honeymoon stage everyone always talks about. And while I’ll know he isn’t perfect, I may just forget once in a while.

But today, I don’t know. Am I being unrealistic? Is everything a struggle of sorts? How long should this fabled honeymoon stage last? And should it really be struggle-free?

Anymore, I’m not sure. Because I’m 32 years old and I’ve never just had it easy. I don’t remember any of these mystical honeymoon phases in my life. (Not even on my actual honeymoon. Which is probably just sad.) I don’t remember things ever being easy.

So here is my question to you, gentle readers. Is it ever really easy? Is there really a blissed out phase where nothing is just an obstacle to be dealt with? Can the beginning of a relationship be simple without either party indulging in some serious delusion? I need to know.

I get by

Recently I discovered a hot topic for singles that I am apparently on the unpopular end of. I thought my plight and my views might be more common, but apparently, I was wrong. (Don’t look at me like that. I doesn’t happen that often!) Judging by the responses to a few posts on Twitter this is quite the hot topic indeed.

What I’m referring to here is letting other people help you. A few weeks ago I had some car trouble. Now, I have a great mechanic and a system for taking care of such things. The shop is close to work and they will drop me off and pick me up again as needed. It works quite well in fact. I’ve been doing this for years. But that particular week, the shop closed before I could get my car and I needed a ride. All of my coworkers were gone and my local family members were not answering their phones. LC offered to help if I needed anything, and I had to ask him to give me a ride. It was way out of his way and pretty inconvenient for him, but he never batted an eyelash about doing it. I, on the other hand, felt terrible. I apologized all over the place. I grumped about it online. I pretty much hated the entire situation.

What came next were lectures from all sides on how being vulnerable is ok. Asking for help is ok. Showing a man your soft side like that is sexy. And the more the advice rolled in, the harder I railed against people. Now before I go any further let me say that I know asking for help is ok sometimes. And I let my friends and family support me when I need it. But since I live alone, I do like to be able to handle most things myself as leaning on those you love too much is a sure way to wear out your welcome. Still, I have in the past and will continue to in the future ask for help when I need it. But I do not like asking for help from people who are not established in my life like that. Why should I make someone who I’m just dating that important? We’re not talking about husbands or fiances or long time partners here. I’m talking about a guy I have only been dating for just over 2 months.

I am still railing against that advice. Why is it that a woman has to be needy to be sexy? Why are we not attractive unless we’re showing our soft underbellies? Why is it that independence in a man is a treasured trait but in a woman it’s a sign we just need to loosen up? When will we get over this already?

Personally, I find independence mad sexy. Men who can cook and clean and do their own laundry are hot. Because when a man is independent you know you are not needed in his life. If you are there, it’s because you are wanted. And that is the best thing ever.

My goal in life is to be wanted. I want to know that my partner can do it all himself. That he doesn’t need me to run errands, make dinner, iron, darn socks, whatever. That he can do everything he needs just fine on his own. He can support himself and have an excellent life all by himself. And yet, I am still a part of that life because he wants me there. I want my presence in a man’s life to be voluntary, not accidental. I want him to consciously choose me, not just default into having me around because I’m plugging some hole in his needs. I think being wanted like that and knowing it is one of the sexiest things in a relationship.

And why should it be any different for a woman? Why is it that I’m off putting if I don’t want to ask for a ride from some guy I’m dating? It’s not like we’re married or he has any obligation to me. It’s not like he’s an established part of my life. So why do I need to let him rescue me in order to keep my man? (And you may feel that’s an exaggeration, but I assure you the advice was clear on that point. Make yourself vulnerable to him or he won’t stick around. I was floored.) Why am I not sexy and desirable as a strong independent woman?

Please advise

You know, I was going to be all coy about this. But I’ve decided that I’m not coy about anything else and that’s not the point of having a cartoon character avatar anyway. So I’m just going to throw this on out there. And maybe you all can help me figure it out.

I like LC. In fact, I really like LC. So much so that the height thing has ceased to matter. I like spending time with him. In fact, I’d even like to spend more time with him than we have been up until now. I invited him to dinner with my friends on Sunday. And to something with me next week. And I suggested that maybe he should consider spending Thanksgiving with me.

I know, I know. It’s ok. I’ll give you a moment to pick yourself up off the floor after that last one.

But… there’s always a but, right? There is a problem. And in my mind, it’s a big problem. He uhhhh… can’t seem to seal the deal. If you know what I mean.

I mean, we’ve had a few overnights now. He is a cuddly sleeper by the way. I do like that. But once you slide between the sheets, and before the cuddly sleeping part…. you know. There are certain activities that are likely to occur. We are both attracted to each other. We are both kind of touchy feely folks. I’m in my 30s, and we’ve already discussed what that means. So, you know, there it is. And everything starts off quite lovely. Except, it doesn’t finish that way. In fact, it doesn’t really finish at all. It just ends rather abruptly. Sometimes with an excuse, sometimes not. But end it does, and not to mutual satisfaction. And it certainly isn’t for lack of trying on my part.

I have paid careful attention to what he likes, and try to make sure I exceed those needs. I have tried asking if there’s something he needs or that I could do differently. I have tried taking control and taking care of him that way.

So now we’re at an impasse. I have never been here. I am afraid to talk about it because that seems like it would just make matters worse. I am afraid to initiate anything for fear of putting undue pressure on LC. And I’m even more afraid that I will never be properly laid again.

So I like him. I like him a lot. But is there any chance this will ever right itself? Because I imagine this to be a complete deal breaker if it’s not a workable situation. And for once, I am in serious need of advice. Especially from the boys. Please.

When men are like green beans. Or not.

I have always approached dating with the philosophy that it isn’t like grocery shopping. Which is to say, you can’t stroll down the dating aisle with a list of qualifications in hand and pick the right mate off the shelf. People are not canned vegetables and it just doesn’t work this way. Instead it’s about meeting individuals, learning about them and how they fit with you, and making informed decisions based on what you can find out. You may have been shopping for french cut green beans, but find out the that kitchen cut kind are just perfect for your dinner too. You know?

While this is a good theory and one I still live by, it sometimes glosses over the fact that we all still have preferences. And while french cut versus kitchen cut may not be a big deal, you still wanted green beans after all, right? Or whatever, you get the point.

So what if during your stroll down dating aisle, you meet someone you mesh with. Things are good. But something is off…. one strong preference of yours is just not met in this man. Maybe he’s perfect except he doesn’t like to travel. Or maybe you get along really great but you just can’t get over how he dresses. Or maybe you have a blast together but he’s just too skinny or overweight. Sure, in the big picture it looks like these things should be surmountable obstacles… or are they?

At what point do we compromise, or not? What if he is overweight? Do you accept that? Do you hope he’ll lose the extra pounds? Or do you run for the hills? What if he turns into an obnoxious jerk when watching sports… every weekend? Do you set up a TV in a separate room and ignore it, or do you cut your losses and leave? What if he doesn’t dress nicely? Do you buy him a new shirt and tell him what to wear to meet your family, or do you simply give up?

Dear readers, when do you build a bridge and get over it? Or when is the chasm just too wide? This one date wonder wants to know what you think.

Does size really matter?

It is the age old question. Men ask, women hedge. No one can seem to answer and look directly in your eyes as they do. But We have all realized that there are very few limits on what I will share here. So I’m just going to say it. Yes. I DO prefer for a man to be taller than me. Now it’s out in the open.

What? What did you think I meant? Pervs.

Back to the subject at hand. This is very timely for me right now as I have recently been out with a man who is exactly my height. Now, let me be straight with you. I am not a tall woman. I’m definitely not a midget, nor do I get regularly mistaken for one of the wee folk. But I am not tall. And not being tall has served me well. I may need a step stool to get things out of my own kitchen cupboards, but at least 95% of the male population of the world is taller than me. That makes dating automatically easier than if I were say 4″ taller than I am. The point here is that being taller than me is no great feat. It’s common. And while I like my men to be on the tall side, I will usually settle for simply taller than me.

So it was with great trepidation that I accepted a date with a man who is exactly my height. He was totally up front about the height situation. There were no surprises and no exaggerations. He was exactly as advertised and right on eye level with me. Truthfully, I was kind of glad to sit down over a meal where the situation was less obvious.

Being on a date with a shorter dude is a study in ignoring the tiny elephant in the room. We did not talk about it. In fact, there was almost no mention of such things. Right up until I started avidly describing a situation in which I feel like a tiny little midget. Usually this tale is greeted with lots of laughter. Instead I got a weird look, an awkward silence, and a tiny “I know.” Ooops.

Still, I would like you to know I was open minded. We actually had a nice date and great conversation. I believe we may actually go out again. I suppose it’s a really good thing I don’t care for high heeled shoes very much.

But I would like to know, dear readers, what it comes to the issue of size…. I mean height… where do you stand?