Thursday, December 31, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Monday, December 28, 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
I was the breaker. I loved him, but was not in love with him because he does not yet know the man he wants to be. Thus, he was not able to be a man for me. I was fully aware that he was trying to figure out his life and I made a choice to try and tough it out (we were back and forth for about a year and five months). MISTAKE. I was unhappy and had to escape. We did not have a confrontational relationship, but we often hit the same wall because there was no growth. My life is balanced without him. I have started a new business. I have and am dating others. I am DOING ME. We no longer talk, but I still think of him. I have tried to get to the bottom of it, but no resolve. We were just two people at two different places trying to have a relationship. I told him not to talk to me anymore, not out of anger, but so that we both could move on. My dad said this will be my "love of a lifetime"; I will always have feelings for him. Maybe he meant I will never quite get over him, but life goes on. So...do you have any suggestions about getting over a situation like this or am I stuck?
Here's my objective view on the situation: you broke up with your boyfriend, a man who just couldn't seem to get his life in a place where it lined up with yours. He was the wrong key to your lock so to speak. Now that he's gone, your life has found balance, you are happy, but you miss him. You wonder if you will always miss him, if you'll ever wake up and not think of him or if you'll ever stop comparing every guy you meet to him.
The answer is yes, you will.
Time is a funny thing. Time apart can absolutely make the heart grow fonder, but it also helps. Time is one of those things you cannot stop, so just let it pass. In time, your heart won't yearn for him as it once did. Sure, you may always have a space reserved for him in there, but the notion of being in love with him will develop into simply loving him. Simply caring about someone who played a major part in your life. And that's okay. It's okay to remember someone fondly, to remember the laughter, the kisses, the love you shared.
As for closure? Well, that's something that only you can answer. Yes, time will take care of that too, but it's also about what you do with that time. Ask yourself why it really truly didn't work out. Why did you break up with him? Why didn't you go back? If he got himself together, would you give it another shot? You need to ask yourself all these questions, so that you can find the answers and move on. When I broke up with my ex, I knew it was final. I knew we'd given each other all we were going to give and while we'd danced back and forth in the past, I knew this last time the music had stopped and we were done. More importantly, I knew my key was out there, ready to unlock all that I'd been missing. But, yes, I shed tears. Yes, I was sad and missed him at times, but I knew I made the right decision-for both of us. I thought of all the things that went wrong, the reasons we needed to go our own ways. I thought about a lifetime with someone who wasn't meant for me and it made me realize why we didn't make it. Why life was going to go on without him just fine. Does it take time? Yes. Is it hard? Absolutely. But does it get easier? Well, something tells me you'll be able to answer that for yourself in just a little while.
That bitch stole my line,
Monday, December 21, 2009
You know how you go to buy a used car and before you buy it, you run one of those good old Carfax reports? The report that basically tells you the car's past before it came onto the lot, before it could possibly wind up in your driveway. A warning of sorts. "If you buy me, you should know that I've been in two near totaling accidents" or "Buy me and you'll have to replace the engine in a month." Sometimes you get the Carfax report and it all smiles. A few fender benders, some extra mileage, normal wear and tear. This carfax report was onto something.
I'd like to propose a Carfax...for men.
Before we get involved in any way, I'd like to run your vin number and find out how many knock down, drag out relationships you've been in. How many girls you've walked out on. When was the last time you were in love and more importantly, do you fall in love every month? I'd like to use those little numbers to prepare myself for what I'm getting into or subsequently, what I'm not getting into.
I once went on thee worst date ever. It was a few years ago, I was newly single and excited to date for the first time it what seemed like forever. I was dragging my suitcase up my brownstone's front steps when I heard a deep male voice say, "You shouldn't be carrying that yourself." I started to ignore him-I don't talk to men on the street-but then I turned around. I don't talk to men on the street, true, but when they look look like this adonis in front of me? Well, I gave a little smile and acquiesced. The bag was heavy, I told myself as an excuse. After handling my suitcase, he asked for my number, which I gave. I think I was in some sort of a trance by his smooth, caramel colored skin, juicy lips, and golden eyes. Sigh. I gave him my number and we agreed to go out some time.
A few days later, he called. We made plans to go out. The night was a disaster. First, he offered to come to my house and cook dinner for me. Doesn't sound horrible, but it was a first date. You are not coming in my house. You're lucky enough to know where I live! But then he pressed by saying he wanted to watch the fight and didn't have HBO, didn't I? Um, no, I don't and if I did, I would still tell you I didn't, which I don't.
So I'm waiting in my apartment, dressed and ready to go when I get a phone call. It's him. He says, "What are you sippin' on?" I didn't quite understand the question and I said so. "Like, what are you drinking? I'm stopping at the liquor store."
Uh, well...I literally had no answer. I said something about being fine and hung up. Was I really about to go on this date? First of all, he was driving! So stopping at the liquor store seemed silly. Are you planning on getting a DUI tonight because I'd like to object. Sometimes B does things just for effect and I knew this date would be one of those stories I could tell for a long time (I was right), so I grabbed my purse and headed downstairs where a black sedan of some sort was waiting. I opened the door and as I assumed, he was sitting there drinking a small bottle of Hennessey. It was encased in a brown bag. I sort of stopped, didn't close the door behind me. He smiled at me, made a comment about me being so pretty, and then saw my gaze fall on the offending liquor. He put it down, then thought better of it and offered me some. No, no thank you.
We pulled off and into the night and as his car coasted uptown, he told me about himself. His, um, family, consisted of two children by two different women, one of which still lived in their Bronx apartment. I asked where he lived? He said, "I'm back with my mom. It's only temporary. Until me and my baby's mom get this mess figured out. I'll probably get a spot in a little bit, but my mom's spot is cool." Joy! The car continued uptown and I started wondering where exactly we were going. I asked. He told me he wanted to take me somewhere real nice, that he could tell I was one of those girls. Olive Garden. He said Olive Garden. Call me whatever you want, but the unlimited soup, salad, and breadsticks restaurant is not my bag. At all. There's actually few restaurants I hate more. Not only that, but Olive Garden is what he considered nice in a city filled to the brim with amazing little trattorias, sushi spots, bratisseries, and more. Olive Garden. No, no thank you. Stunned, he offered Fridays. Fine. Whatever. Fine.
We headed over a bridge and I won't lie, I texted a friend and told them to keep a tight leash on me that evening. If they didn't hear from me repeatedly, send dogs to...um...I had no clue where we were. A highway of sorts? Grass on either side. Definitely not Kansas, anymore, Toto. As promised, though, a Friday's came up on the left hand side. I asked why we didn't just go to one of the zillion Friday's in Manhattan. He stated it was too expensive.
Right. Ok. And out the car we go.
I made sure I ordered everything I could. Drinks, appetizers, soups, salads, entrees, and dessert. And I finished none. I kept the conversation going, but when I wondered why, I couldn't come up with a good answer, so I stopped. We sat in gaping silences, which I was okay with. I was facing the television screens. When we eventually left, I texted my friends, told them I'm meet them at the club they were VIPing at, and headed back to the city.
When we got to my apartment, he started in on this long diatribe about how great I was, how he liked me a lot, could tell I was smart and would teach him sooo much. I started to feel bad. Maybe I was his ticket out of his own particular hellish existence. Maybe, I should do a bit of charity and help him out. That might be the bitchiest statement I've ever made, and besides,I couldn't do it. He leaned in to kiss me and I dodged it with a complete lack of finesse. I didn't have time to teach him anything nor did I care to.
See, when you meet someone out of nowhere, someone with no connections to anyone in your life, you can't run that good old Carfax report. Even though I'd love an actual print out with your past-good and bad-the next closest thing would be having friends who can say, "no, girl, don't do it" or "ooooh, we love him, been waiting on him to get hitched up." You can find out all you need to know before hand. At least, then you know why you can't stand him after a few months and why he's either still not ready for commitment or clinging to you like saran wrap. I had no carfax for this cutie, so I had no idea what I was getting. Looked like a Benz, turned out to be a lemon.
That bitch stole my line,
Friday, December 18, 2009
I keep hearing that funny saying, "No romance without finance." I'd never heard it prior to this summer, maybe because I had no reason to hear it, but I find it extremely funny. Call me naive or what you will, but I like to date or be with someone because I like them, not because they have loads of money. That being said, while money doesn't mean happiness, it sure as hell makes it easier.
I grew up without the word "no," in the vocabulary. Perhaps I was spoiled, but I know finances were not the focal point of our household. We vacationed, shopped, lived in a big house with a pool and drove nice cars. Financial woes didn't enter my life until I was in college and was broke like everyone else so to speak. My high school boyfriends and prom dates all had cars and came from financially stable families. College was the same. Now, in the real world, suddenly financial stability is huge. Credit scores and renting vs. owning I can understand worrying about if you're thinking long term with someone. But dinner? Come on. Yes, he should pay for those first several dates. It isn't old fashioned. It's kind. It's respectful. It's apart of the male responsibility just as those that belong solely to the woman. You take a lady to dinner, you pick up the check...especially if you want there to be a second date. Honestly, most of the dating horror stories that I've heard almost always involve splitting the bill or a man "forgetting" his wallet. Eat your silly ego and pay for the movie, thank you.
But this is more about the notion that romance cannot blossom when finances are low. That would mean there should be no dating, no nookie, no nothing because of the recession. Exactly. So ridiculous. Not only will very few people let their finances affect their libidos, but there's tons of fun to be had that doesn't cost a thing. And if it does cost some coin, go ahead and go dutch. Don't be afraid to even foot the bill at times. My rule is to only fork over cash when there's a common understanding: I like you, you like me, we're happy and don't mind doing these things for each other.
Finances are just apart of the menu that makes up male and female interaction on any level. So if he's out of work that doesn't mean he'll always be. I guarantee he'll see you differently if you hold him down while the money is funny. There are plenty of women that look for someone to take care of them. To foot every bill and take them on loads of vacations. They like to tell their friends that "he bought me that Gucci purse" or "took me to St. Croix." That's so nice and glamorous and if you are head over heels in love, well you've hit the proverbial jackpot, but not because he's well off. Because he treats you well overall. If you want someone to take care of you, you should be in a position to take care of him, too. There's an imbalance when it comes to who plays the role of breadwinner with the sexes, but I think that has more to do with men being providers and how that clashes with independent women. Ladies on that track, there's nothing wrong with letting a man take care of you, but please return the favor. Men of the current era like to say they want a woman whose got her own, but you cannot abandon the fact that one of your responsibilities is to provide. Sorry, those are the cards that were dealt. Hold or fold if you want, but your relationship status and sex life depend on that decision.
I've dated great guys with no money. Great guys with lots of money. In the end, yes the money makes things nice, but it doesn't make us work or not. I believe there are far more important matters to worry about than money. Either you have it or you don't. It's nice to have a handout, but it's just as nice to build something together.
That bitch stole my line,
Thursday, December 17, 2009
A few weeks back, I opened up the blog for questions, advice or comments. I've received quite a bit and am thus starting a series called Ask B. So keep your questions coming. I'm not an expert, but I know what I'm doing, so ask away.
I'm 26, soon to be 27 in June. All of my friends complain about the fact that NY has too many females and they're having trouble finding a serious relationship. Do you think this is a dominant perspective shared by many. It's one of the many factors that I'm considering if I do make the move in 2011/2012?
I'm not entirely sure why all these women are complaining about the lack of men. The truth is they're running around out there, you just gotta let them find you. I think that might be the issue though. Too many chicks chasing, seeking out the guys instead of the other way around. I'm not talking about the obvious ways either- calling them, making yourself overly available, doing more than necessary to bring them into your life, etc. I mean, the subconscious ways. These are the behavioral traits that usually seep from a woman's pores like sweat. The neediness, the desperation that wafts off you like perfume. It can be smelled from miles away and stinks. Neediness is never in season, so don't wear it out.
The NYC dating scene has been good to B. I don't know why-well I am pretty dope- but I think it has something to do with my acceptance of myself and being alone when necessary. I know girls who can't live without a man. Stay with a dude that isn't right for them verses be single. That's fine, I guess, but I'd rather be alone if that's what made me happy. I also do what make me happy in the end. If I'm not happy, most of those around me won't be either, unfortunately.
NYC is filled to the brim with guys of all types. Wall Street bankers, uptown thugs, Soho fashionistas, UES business types. I'd stear clear of the Chelsea boys unless you're looking for a kick ass gay friend to shop with. Bars and clubs are good for occasional hook ups, but truly utilize your social circle. There's always a friend of a friend who you haven't met. Accept as many invitations as you can and have a blast at every single one. Now, don't go looking. Just go and have a good time for you. The guys will follow. See, men like confidence without arrogance. So be conceited for a reason or fake it til you make it. Ever notice the girl at the bar, laughing it up, tossing her hair, enjoying drinks bought by others? It's because she doesn't care who's watching, at least she doesn't appear to. You never know, things could be falling apart elsewhere, but the attitude she puts forward is the one that counts. It's the one people see and in this situation, the one men see. Everyone wants to be in the orbit of a woman that's all smiles and good times. So be that woman, which shouldn't be a problem because what exactly do you have to be pissed about? Being single? Please.
So, please, make the move. Take this city by storm. I won't sit here and promise you a ring by 2012, but according to that movie, the world isn't gonna exist then anyway, so who cares:)
That bitch stole my line,
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Nice guys do not finish last. They finish in the same place as the assholes. Yes, there are the good guys and the bad guys, but first and foremost, there are simply: guys. The bad ones, I can appreciate. They are a bad boy up front. They say "take that, take that, take that" from jump and we say, "ok." You know what you're getting. There is no confusion. It is what it is. With nice guys, there's confusion. They are nice even in their wrong-doing. They're the wolf in sheep's clothing and I'd honestly rather deal with an honest and outright dick than one who continuously promised greener pastures only to come up barren.
Several years ago, I dated a guy who was bad from the start, but there was something amazing about his energy. Our energy together. Neither of us could understand it. It was indescribable. Something I hadn't felt before and haven't since. But he was toxic. Did toxic things. Poisoned my life as only toxic can. Sure, there were good times, but for the most part, he was bad news bears. It went on and on for years. Off and on. He'd blow in like a tornado, leaving nothing but destruction in his wake. He recently got married. He still calls, texts, says inappropriate things. I do not answer. I've learned my lesson. I know what he is. What he will most likely (and sadly) always be. Besides I have no need for married men in my life.
However, in the spring of last year, I started dating this wonderfully nice guy. Sweet as pie and cute as a button. I was smitten. He pulled out chairs, opened doors, was tender and careful. Just great. I found it mildly nauseating that he called all the time, texted like his phone might die before he could say one last thing. But I refused to be the girl who loved thugs and didn't give the sensitive dudes a chance. I gave him a chance. In the end, he was still just a guy, a flawed one at that. And when we finally stopped talking, it was very abrupt. I cut him off, but when I think about it, I think he cut me off too. There was no pomp and circumstance, no fanfare. It just stopped. I don't even remember why, but I do remember feeling slighted. Thinking, "damn, even the nice dudes fuck up eventually."
See, girls like bad guys because we know what we're getting. And it's exciting. And we like it. We love the tattoos and the danger. We love the yanking and pulling. The times we've been ignored and the times we been on his arm like proverbial arm candy. We like the destruction. The drama. The whole enchilada. We like even more what they do to us in the bedroom. We just like it. All of it. However, we don't love it. Not enough to stick around forever. Well, there are those who wait around for the thug to finally need a hug, but many of us know in our heart of hearts that it will end. That we will eventually get sick of the strong hit and yearn for something smooth. That we will realize we can't change them and are ready for someone who is already a perfect fit.
Now, girls like good guys because of the bad guys. Because of what they've done to us. The good guy picks up the pieces, shows us how we should've been treated all along. It's nice, refreshing. A change will do you good and all that. There's a strong but with good guys, though. Women go into relationships with good guys without the proper guard. When dealing with a bad boy, you know what's on the horizon, what's probably coming and you dress in the proper armor. You make sure you're protected from the fury that is him. With good guys, you usually get a bit duped. You go in thinking, "oh, he's so sweet. So kind. He'll never hurt me." Then when he does, it hurts tenfold.
This is not to be negative. Not to say there are no good guys out there. I've seen them, dealt with them, enjoyed them for a few months or years on end. They are there, hiding. Some were once bad guys that changed on their own (the only way they can). Some have been there all along and you just didn't notice. They're around, but it seems so much easier to bump into the others.
So when guys cry and whine about the nice guys finishing last and the thugs always winning, it's a bunch of horse manure. You all do your sh*t. Some of you do it in the dark, some do it in the light. At least those who do their dirt in the light can be seen from a far. With that knowledge, I can go ahead and get out of the way or walk in with my eyes wide open.
That bitch stole my line,
Monday, December 14, 2009
I have nothing to write about today. Well, let me rephrase that. I have lots to talk about, but I might be the horniest person walking the planet right now so I'm kind of, um, distracted. I think I've made it incredibly clear on my blog that I'm a sexual person. It's no secret that I'm into grown folks business, so pick your bottom lip from the ground, get that sneer of judgment off your face. Thank you.
So I am sitting here, MAC in my lap, listening to Aretha, trying to write a blog about something I could care less about. Aretha ends and Trey Songz's crooning fills the room. Sheesh, really? Am I crazy or what? Does he just know what to say? Like exactly. Got dang it. In honor of him and my horribly fresh thoughts: Here are some "Get It In" songs-in no particular order. They're are definitely some missing, so add your own if you want. I just like these, like...Right. Now.
Neighbors Know My Name- Trey Songz
Every single line in this song drives me insane. Forget that, most of the album does. I love how Trey sings about putting it on his woman. How he just needs to please her and that's all. And you dudes wonder why all the girls go crazy over him. Have you seen his abs? Have you heard him sing? Spare me.
Bed- J. Holliday
The instrumental of this song along makes me think back to Art of Noise's Moments In Love. I
Janet Jackson- Anytime, Anyplace
I remember being a senior in high school and playing this song over the phone to my then boyfriend, like I was all kinds of fresh. I was such a tease. I've graduated to really doing it anytime, anyplace. Love this song.
Let's Get It On-Marvin Gaye
I was trying to keep it current, but this is an obvious choice.
How Does It Feel- D'Angelo
If he's doing it right, it'll feel kinda like that video looks. Amazing. This song also has personal meaning...which is both good and bad.
Nice & Slow- Usher
Usher often says he didn't know what he was talking about, singing songs like that when he was so young and inexperienced. I'll take Nice & Slow over Changing Places any day. Something about the opening bars that make me answer his question every single time ("Now, baby tell me what you wanna do with me?").
Take You Down- Chris Brown
Not sure what those little boys are doing these days, but yes, you can take me down if that's how it goes down.
That bitch stole my line,
Thursday, December 10, 2009
It isn't that I am against marriage at all. I do believe in the possibility of meeting someone that I'll actually want to wake up to for the rest of my life or someone with a dope last name, whichever comes first. But I don't believe in getting married just because it's time or it's the right thing to do. Not even because I love you. Love is just the tip of the iceberg, it isn't what keeps it from melting. I believe I'll find that guy-the one I want to wake up to for the rest of my life, but that doesn't mean I have to marry him. What's the difference? A piece of paper and a pretty ring? I know couples who've thrown giant weddings, small weddings. Pairs who've bought rings and signed the certificate. I know people who've pledged themselves true to one person and what has happened? The divorce rate is 46%. That's almost half! I don't know if something is in the water, but sheesh people! You don't have to put a ring on it! At least you don't have to so quickly. Gone are the days of people dating and courting each other for a substantial amount of time. Now, it's like, "Ooooh, I like you! You're fun! Let's get married!" Huh? Why?
I have friends who have marriage on their menus, who are ready to feast on wedding magazines and seating charts. And maybe I support them. Maybe I will stand at the altar with many of them and maybe I will smile and squeeze a tear out because they've found happiness. But I'll definitely be praying my butt off that they last forever because the alternative sucks big time.
It goes without saying that I come from a house of divorce, but the happiness that ensued when my parents realized they were better off apart was wonderful. I grew up in the perfect divorced Huxtible household, so don't start with the "she doesn't believe in marriage because she has issues" conversation. It's a dead one. I understand marriage. I understand divorce. I just don't know who said we all had to run off and get married in our twenties in order to ensure a happy and balanced life. My aunt got married at the age of fifty-four and when someone asked her what took her so long, she shrugged and said, "I was waiting for the right one." I plan to do the same and if it takes longer than these roaring twenties, well that's fine too. Things get better with age anyway.
That bitch stole my line,
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
I've always dated football players. My love of the game runs deep and therefore my love of the men that play my favorite barbaric sport runs even deeper. I remember being in middle school, telling my mom I wanted to marry a football player. She sort of chuckled. The kind of chuckle you give to an immature mind that has yet to learn the ways of the world. But I carried on. Dated them all through high school and college. My ex-boyfriend played all through high school and college, had plans for the NFL. I saw my box season seats in lights, waiting for me. Then he got hurt. And as I learned the ways of most professional athletes, I realized that unless you were on the bandwagon during the wonder years, ala LeBron's girl, you didn't have a shot. Professional athletes are known for their philandering ways. Sooner or later it becomes part of the game, just like Q's dad says in Love and Basketball.
This blog isn't about the Tiger Woods' of the world though. It's about cheating in general or at least how it pertains to me. I would like to state for the record: I don't condone cheating. I think it's a selfish act done by someone who could care less about their partner's feelings. My dad was a cheater. Several mistresses later, our house was in tatters, so no, I don't get down with cheating. However, as I've grown older I've learned that some things you just can't begin to comprehend or identify with until they happen to you. You can say to your friends, "No, if he cheated on me, I'd be outta there," but the truth is, you don't know what you'd do. I'm sure my mother had no intention of allowing my dad his infidelities, but when you've built a home together, have three children, and mutual funds among other things, there she was. Eventually, she kicked him to the curb, but it took countless tries and lots of soul-searching and digging.
To my knowledge, I haven't been cheated on. I highly doubt it as I'm amazing in bed. I'm kidding-about the reason, not the fact. I have, unfortunately, stepped out on someone who shall remain anonymous, because he doesn't know or need to know. I've also been the other girl, the woman he ran to when he cheated on her. I'm not proud of either. I was being incredibly silly, not to mention selfish and immature. Yet, it happened nonetheless. During the time of both indiscretions, I was an interesting place in my life. One that had me rebelling and thinking I deserved to have what I wanted. So childish. So now, when I hear people say things like, "I'd so be outta there" or "If she ever stepped out on me, I'd go insane," I just kinda shake my head and give a good ole' Kanye shrug because I don't know what I'd do. I don't know what my partner would've done had he known. But I do know one thing: I have no intention of finding out because my plan is to never cheat on anyone every again. First of all the guilt is horrible. It tears you apart. You close your eyes and see the act and while he's laying next to you, you wonder if the vision will seep into that place where dreams are. You hope to anyone listening that you don't utter his name in your sleep. Secondly, it isn't worth it. I never cared about the guy I cheated with more than I cared about my guy, but there was definitely something missing somewhere or I wouldn't have done it in the first place. Even further, there must've been some sort of vacancy when I was the other chick because being someones second runner up isn't my style nor should it be anyone else's. Finally, I'm just not that girl. Maybe I once was. Maybe I dipped my toe in the cheating pool, but I dried off and stepped back where I belong. I pride myself in being open and honest and cheating just doesn't line up with who I am.
That bitch stole my line,
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
In relationships, I'm learning that happily ever after just doesn't exist. Gone are the days of wishin' and hopin.' Instead, let's have a nice refreshing glass of reality. So here they are in no particular order:
1. It isn't realistic. Literally. Fairy tales are just that: a tale of something that doesn't usually happen, which is what makes it like the Loch Ness monster-rare, but special or interesting if spotted.
2. Happily ever after usually only lasts as long as the words themselves do. Imagine if there was a sequel to Sleeping Beauty or if we found out what happened after the Prince kissed Snow White. We'd probably find them arguing over where he was last night or finances, after all they are raising seven dwarfs.
3. People have problems, baggage, issues that can't be fixed in just a few colorful pages or a 2 hour Disney flick. You don't usually see therapy in animated movies.
4. Men are nothing like Princes. No need for depth on that one.
5. Women are perhaps a little too much like Princesses in contrast.
6. There's nothing to worry about in those stories. No careers in their happily ever afters. Cinderella no longer has to clean floors, and Jasmine and Aladdin no longer have to steal carpet rides or wish on genies. Their only job is to love each other forever. No toothbrushes left behind, no families and fortunes to divvy up. No one getting sick of loving the same prince forever and ever. So there's no stepping out or taking a break to find out what else there is to life.
7. It's always sunny at the end of the story. Seriously, there are no gloomy, rainy endings! Have you ever seen a fairy tale that ended with doom and gloom? No! Because that would mean happily ever after is a doomy and gloomy place and it isn't-well at least it wouldn't be if it even existed.
8. There are no lies told in happily ever afters. The Prince promises to stay and he does. The Princess promises to never be a sensitive nag and she does just that. In real life, people shy from honesty. They hide behind a facade of half truths, omitting what's real. You don't get happily ever after that way.
9. After the line, "and they lived happily ever after" is printed, there's nothing. Maybe one more blank white page to book end the book, make things even, but there's nothing! That's gotta mean something. If you stay in your house, do nothing, let no one in and live your life with DVR and Fresh Direct groceries, NOTHING will happen and there's your happily ever after. You might get kinda bored, but that's an OK trade off. Besides, there's scrabble online.
10. Happily ever after gives too much false hope. It should just say, "and they tried their best to live happily ever after, but they knew there would be pitfalls and hurdles, but if they stayed together and fought as long as they both wanted to, they'd have a shot at it."
Or maybe it should say, "the end."
That bitch stole my line,
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Dear Men Who've Come and Gone,
Thank you for coming, thank you for going. Thank you for the one nighters and the 100 nighters. Thank you for leaving me crying and making me realize what I really needed. Thank you for making me realize I needed you. That I didn't need you. Thank you for hitting me just to hurt me. Thank you for being so wonderful and kind. Thank you for showing me how a man should be. Thank you for reiterating that you are still a boy. Thank you for the wonderful birthdays. Thank you for the birthdays you ruined. Thank you for helping me figure me out. Thank you for leaving to figure you out. Thank you for staying and doing it together. Thank you for missing me and letting me know. Thank you for ignoring me and going on with your day. Thank you for dealing with a woman who cares too much. Thank you for dealing with a woman who could care less. Thank you for hanging up on me and showing me just how human fathers are. Thank you for making it hard to breathe, but making it easier, better, good. Thank you for showing me what it's like to trust and then showing me exactly why I shouldn't. Thank you for the times when we were so happy, we couldn't believe there were any roadblocks up ahead. Thank you for weathering storms. Thank you for fleeing like FEMA. Thank you for the laughter-the incredible, heart-stopping, tears in eyes laughter. There are few I laugh with like that and few that I probably will. Thank you for the nights of passion. The nights that made me feel incredible. Thank you for the nights that had zero passion. Thank you for making me sit by a phone that wouldn't ring. Thank you for calling right on time. Thank you for the movies, both in the theater, big screen above or the ones on the couch, curled around each other, feeling safe. Thank you for making me feel beautiful, for telling me as much as possible. Thank you for not telling me and forcing me to see it for myself. Thank you for getting rid of us when I didn't have the guts to do it. Thank you for taking a stand and making me dig deeper, be a better person. Thank you for the times we fell asleep together, content and without fear. Thank you for not crowding my sleeping space. Thank you for pushing me out the bed. Thank you for waking up next to me, for telling me I'm best with no make up on. Thank you for being like gravity, pulling me down, gasping for air. Thank you for yanking be back to reality and shattering fantasy worlds. Thank you for marrying her, for giving her all your drama as a lifetime gift. Thank you for sparing me. Thank you for the songs that remind me of you. Thank you for the vacations, both long and short, cheap and expensive. Thank you for buying the ring. Thank you for taking it back. Thank you for the nights where we stayed up eating cupcakes, playing scrabble, telling stories, sharing who we were. Thank you for sharing who you were with me. Thank you for the nights of tears. Thank you for helping make me stronger. Thank you for being strong, for being a man when I needed a man. Thank you for being soft and fragile, a moment for me alone. Thank you for being selfish and wanting me and only me. Thank you for not knowing what you wanted. Thank you for the clarity. Thank you for the confusion. Thank you for the light you brought to my life. Thank you for the darkness that you spread like a blanket. Thank you for your season, your reason. Thank you for the thank you's. Thank you and you're welcome.