ManicPixieDreamGirl.. and how to maybe survive being her friend..

This blog is probably going to cause some serious shit, and I'm sorry. Just know that I love you still, and maybe once you are done being mad.. you can see that.

I am (was) friends with a Manic Pixie Dream Girl. You know those girls.. just picture every part ever played by big eyed Zooey Dechanel.. the kooky, cutesy, pseudo mystical, awkward, adorable dress twirler that makes men melt into people puddles. I didn't realize she was a MPDG for a long time, mostly because I didn't want to, the MPDG goes against everything I believe in, everything I stand for, everything I want. 

This type of girl (I can not call them women, they are far too little girly to be women) is manufactured to be a man's dream of the perfect woman, she is a sexually active adult wrapped up in a 5 yr olds attitude, with every thought and action directed to be pleasing to men. Everything the MPDG does is adorable, from the way she sneezes to shocking people with her potty mouth, she is the picture of flat out cute. 

Some don't realize what their persona conveys, they firmly believe (like my friend) that she is just being her quirky self, giggling over butterflies and exerting their belief in magic while playing video games all day in their cute jammies. These girls are clueless as to why any being with a penis flocks to her, shocked and befuddled when they get hit on every time they leave the house! They maintain that they just don't get it, but they absolutely revel in the attention, glowing with every turn down, and making little mu faces to their female friends because gosh.. I can't do anything without men wanting me. 

My friend is forever getting hit on, regardless of where we are, she got hit on at the zoo for fucks sake. It was an issue for me, not understanding, and her attitude really only made it worse. When I expressed frustration over being invisible when she was around, she stated that from then on she would make a serious effort to not look cute or anything when we went out (because I was obviously a troll and she had to work to be ugly and not get hit on) 

The MPDG is all about being wanted by as many men as possible, even the ones she doesn't want, because men wanting her makes her feel special. These are girls who must be wanted, must be seen as the muse, the object of desire, the utmost in rainbow glitter farting unicorn in a field of daisy fairies specialness.. or else they don't feel important at all. Everything is about them, even when it isn't. 

Last summer, I went through a dating assholes phase. At one point, my friend told me that she was just going to pretend to be mad at me so she didn't have to hear about it anymore, then wanted to know why I wasn't talking to her about stuff.  At the end of the summer, when I actually got my heart broken, she called me. Not to console or offer a shoulder to cry on, but to find out if I was mad at her because she encouraged me to open my heart and let people in. I was stunned. 

Manic Pixie Dream Girls don't really mean to be so self involved, they simply can't feel special if someone else is in the spotlight. Everything ultimately must be about them, because they survive on the attention of everyone else. MPDG's will create drama in order to gain attention, even when they are loudly claiming that they don't want any attention at all. There is never a down time with them, either you make them feel special and cherished, or they are going to push it till you do. The MPDG is a pro at passive aggressive behavior with their female peers, because they won't cause a scene in which they may be seen as anything other than the perfectly sweet victim of some other woman's jealousy.   

The good news is, most girls outgrow their Manic Pixie Dream Girl personality, blossoming into real and wonderful women. Why did I say real? I think that MPDG is a lot like Pinocchio, a hollow imitation of people, pretending to be something that they are not yet capable of being. I want to be around when my friend grows out of hers, I want to see her be the woman I KNOW is inside just waiting to be let out. She is surrounded by strong, brave, outspoken women.. and I believe (maybe naively) that she wants to be a real woman someday.

Negative Nancy..

During the course of a religious discussion the other day, I was informed that I was not really happy without god. Said accuser had at one time been a friend in real life as well as on FB, but unfriended me a few years ago because of her inability to see anything other than her own opinion and skewed ideas on how a woman's life should be lived. When I pointed out the fact that, as a christian person, she had been the first to turn away when we saw things differently, she decided to tell me that it had NOTHING to do with our opposite views but with my constant negative attitude.

Hmmmm.. oh really?

Ya'll know that I take those comments seriously, so, being me, I wondered if that was an accurate statement. I have spent the last 24ish hours going through my fb, looking for and counting the honestly negative posts.. all the way back to my very first days on facebook. What I found was a bit eye opening.

There were quite a few weight related negative posts, as well as men suck negative posts, because I was unhappy with both of those aspects of my life. When I weighed (haha) those rantings against the VAST quantity of other day in the life posts however, the number was actually incredibly small. In fact, the bulk of them were from June 2011-Dec 2012.

This was also the time frame that old friend and I both reconnected and stopped being friends again.

What was going on in my life that made me so negative for a year and a half? Oh yea.. I remember!

I had been cheated on by my fiance, kicked out of our home so he could move his new girlfriend and her kids in, lost my condo because no one living in it would work and help me pay for it, ballooned to almost 300 lbs, was abandoned by my married best friend because I kissed a guy she could never have, and generally WAS miserable.

 I was also attending church, trying to immerse myself in the feeling of love and community I had been promised.. a feeling that did not exist btw. At church I was snubbed because I was not married, I was belittled because I dared question a male teachers interpretation of the bible, and was finally shut out by the bishop because I refused to join the singles groups and find a man.

Was I unhappy because I didn't have god? No.. I didn't have anything.. that's why I was unhappy. God didn't comfort me when I had no one, god didn't lift me up so I could heal, god didn't whisper to me in the dark and give me the strength to get out of bed every day.. god was just as absent as every other human being (the ones I had not grown in my own body excluded) I had loved.

So I made some changes. I found and cultivated friendships with people who were not insane whore bags, I stopped beating myself up for the mistakes I made in my failed relationship, I channeled that anger and disappointment and hurt and fear into making myself a better person than I had been for a little while, and in making sure that I was never so low again that someone like my best friend or my fiance or god could make me miserable. I realized I had put my faith, for a brief time, in things that really were pretend.

It was after I did all this that I was able to look at my life with a clear view, and I realized I had put my faith, for a brief time, in things that really were pretend. In my time of greatest need, I truly had stood alone.

I guess, in some ways, my old friend was right. I had been negative. With good reason, reasons that any real friend would have tried to help me overcome, but negative nonetheless. However, not having god in my life was not what made me unhappy. It was life that made me negative, and even then, it was only for a very small amount of time.

Leaving my childish belief in fairy tales behind has, in fact, given me purpose and an intense happiness! I am an honest and good human being, because that's what we all should be. Not for a reward after we die, but for the reward of not being an asshole while we are alive! Believe in what you must, but understand this please.. my life is better because I made it better, no one else. I am not ever unhappy because I lack a belief in, or relationship with, a thing called god. I am sometimes unhappy because life can suck, but that's all part of actually living one.

To my old friend.. yes, I was negative. You did not stop being my friend because of it. You stopped being my friend the moment I said that I did not believe in your god, or the arbitrary rules of your religion. Be honest next time ok, you god fearing christian woman. This atheist will be. To everyone else.. if I for real start being a negative nancy, tell me.. or better yet, ask me why and give a shit about the answer.

Isn't good enough..

I tend to be a little.. intense.. emotionally. When I decide that you are important to me, you get all of me. Every emotion and fear, every tiny bit of my heart goes to you. It's not a good plan, but that's just how it goes.. I have zero control over it. I don't allow you to go in blindly however, I do warn you.. every time. Yet it never fails, with all the warnings and danger signs, I am allowed to get close and the instant my intensity kicks in you freak out and bolt.. straight out of my life.

Fuck you.

I told you. I gave you every chance to get out before I started to give a shit. You didn't go. You continued to say you wanted me, continued to promise you were not going anywhere, continued to make me fall for you. You don't get to tell me you are "absolutely and unequivocally in love with" me and then disappear. That's so fucked up. You didn't have to tell me that. Why did you say those words? You don't get to allude to important things you want me to hear from your mouth, and then never call. You don't get to promise me a future, a life, and then just go away. No explanation, no anything but unanswered calls and ignored texts. How can you do that to a person? A person you claim to be in love with.

Yea, things moved quickly. That's ok. We have this connection, this amazing and brilliant connection straight from our hearts, minds.. in all my life I never felt anything so fantastic. I stand in amazement when I think of how honestly made for each other we are. Yet, you have gone, I didn't even get a goodbye.

Did I go completely bat shit crazy? Absolutely!

I warned you. You knew. I told you that if you scared me, I was gonna lose my shit all over the place. I did. You made promises you didn't keep, plans you bailed on. You said things about OUR future, blending my family and yours, calling us YOUR four girls. Then you don't call. You let me start to freak out. You still don't call. You let me really lose it. You let me question my worth, hell, you encourage it. As I start to fall into the abyss of doubt and fear, you do nothing to alleviate my pending madness. It wouldn't have taken much, you only had to let me know you were there. You refused. You continue to refuse. You are content to let my heart shatter, my dreams dissolve, my world tilt until I am clinging to the barest edge. You refuse to save me from myself.

True, I should have been more reserved. You wouldn't let me be. I wanted to go slow and honest and be real, you started the deep stuff. You set me on this path, swearing that you were right there holding my hand. When did you decide to let go? We swore that we would let this be awesome. You lied.

I cast not assumptions upon your character, make no allusions to the man you are. I see you still as a bright and shining human, full of intelligence and laughter.. brimming with love and tenderness, noble and good. I do not see myself in that same light. How, if the man so tailor made for me does not see my worth as a partner, is anyone ever going to? I am good, I am honest, I love with every bit of my being. I would give you the world on a silver platter, the shirt off my back, the moon if you wanted it.. yet you are running and I am lost.

For a moment, you were mine. More importantly, I was yours.. I belonged to someone so wonderful, I should have known it was only for the blink of an eye.

I have no confidence in my ability to be loved by someone, I am well acquainted with being used.. but not loved. Did you use me too? To what end I wonder, or are you simply afraid of me loving you? I'll never know the answer, I'll never see your bright blue eyes smiling at me.. or the look of wonder when we are alone. You wanted to be my last first.. but you can be my last last instead. My last attempt to be loved, my last attempt to be complete, my last moment of allowing someone to reach my heart. You can not have my heart, it is empty and useless, but you had it full and beautiful in your hands.. and you threw it away without a thought.

I  miss you Nate.. I miss you so much.

Lies and marriage, love and dating..

Wow! So much has happened in the months that I haven't been able to post, but we are gonna skip the little dating dramas for today and go straight to the biggest!

Accidentally dating.. a married man.

Not that I dated him on accident, that was on purpose, I was just unaware of his being married when I did it!

So.. met this guy a while back, we talked and really hit it off. We go on date one, and I knew I wanted to keep him. He was sweet, attentive, kind of a hottie, and had this look in his eyes that made me melt. We became inseparable, except when he had his kids. Three beautiful daughters, one of which wasn't actually his, and he spent every other week with them. Ok, I am fine with that. When he didn't have the munchkins, we spent every moment together. He said the L word, I said you terrify me.. he kept saying it anyway. I felt it, I wanted to say it, but we all know I have tons of trust issue baggage.. so I didn't say it. Every time I said you terrify me, he knew what I meant.

I got to know this guy, his fears, his dreams, his past.. or at least that's what I thought.

Turns out, with the exception of his name, everything else he said was a lie. He has four kids, all his. No job. No car. No money. His week long visitations with his kids was actually just going home. His wife supplied me with these details.

I wanted to feel sorry for her, I had been in her position. Finding out that your husband (or boyfriend) is cheating sucks, so I attempted to put her at ease, at least I was concerned. I let her know I was no longer going to see him, and then moved on with my own grieving. Until.. she starts stalking my fb and making snotty comments on her own wall regarding my pain and anger towards Robert.. calling me a whore, an idiot, and a liar. Whoa! Back it up sweetcheeks! The second you said we are married and together, I dropped him. Period. I don't do married men, in any sense of the word! I blocked him on my phone, I blocked him on fb, I erased every trace of him from my life. Yes, you have a right to be angry, but not at me! You know what kind of "man" he is, but you want to pretend that it's MY fault he cheated.. I don't fucking think so! I can't feel pity for her now, she deserves him. He is going to cheat, she is going to let him, sounds like a perfect match to me. The last thing I saw on her wall, before I blocked the crazy bitch, was a post about how I may be younger (I am at least 10 years older) prettier (well duh, I am a hottie) and have a better body (I suppose if you had cranked out four kids in five years your body might be a bit jacked up) but that didn't mean her husband wanted me, how she was a good woman, and everything I had would fade. Umm really? I respect her right to be mad, all I ask is that same curtesy. If I want to say that Robert Herrmann is a lying piece of shit not worth my time and that I am far to good for the likes of him.. I get to! I'm not angry because she is his wife, I am angry that he didn't tell me. He is the one in the wrong, not me, not her. To blame someone who was unaware, and who changed it the instant they got the info, all so you can keep your lying, cheating, coward of a husband, is insane and sad.

Keep him Rindy. He is all yours. But before you start pointing fingers at his victims, maybe you should take a good hard look at the "great man" you are married to.

Ok.. that's off my chest! My heart has been played once again, but I am a fool for love so we all know I'm not ending my search for MY guy. Next time we can discuss the winners that led me to Robert in the first place.. like the beer, Broncos, and boobs guy.. or the I want you to wear a strap-on and do me in the ass guy, and the ever popular I want a relationship but only after we sleep together so I know you are good in bed guy. Yea, dating sucks.

Not broken, just bent..

"We're not broken, just bent.. and we can learn to love again"

Those words reached inside me and touched the part of my heart that I had locked up tight. Was this true.. was I just bent after all.. and not the shattered mess I thought I was for so long? My heart said, quite clearly, that it was time to find out.

I whined for MONTHS about how I never got any attention from men.. but damned if the second I decided to date again that I wasn't fighting men off with a stick. There was a decent quantity of them, and for a minute I enjoyed the sound of my phone blowing up. From friends that had been waiting for YEARS to set me up, to an online dating site, I became a popular girl.

The quality, however, left much to be desired. Most of these guys never got past the first day of conversation. The few that did.. well.. we ALL know how those dates went (http://emily-coffeeandcigarettes.blogspot.com/2013/05/reasons-to-stay-single.html) There were a few other dates that didn't make my list, but let's just say they were almost as wonderfully magical as the top four. Then, I found a few good ones. Sweet, good guys I could talk to, and laugh with, have a coffee with no pressure.. one who even called just to sing me a song. All great guys, and not one made me feel what I was missing, although I tried.. there was just no 'it'.

 I took a chance on one in particular.. a smart assed guy that looked a little douche baggy and cocky.. THIS guy spoke to the tiny non-bitter part of me. Really? This was the one that made me feel that something.. hmm.. ok then.

Don't judge a book by it's cover. The guy opens my door, and holds my hand, and likes that I am kinda prissy. I shocked him by happily going to the junkyard with him, and not freaking out when he pulled me in for a kiss with his dirty hands. He shocked me with his terrible spelling and intelligent conversation.. he is a weird mix of bad boy and nerd.. and I like him.

He has the sweetest smile, and the saddest eyes, rough hands and rougher edges, he hold me so tight and makes me feel so wanted, so safe and beautiful.. I haven't had one moment of shyness or awkwardness with him. I get a little crazy when we text, because he is horrible at replying with more than 2 words or taking forever to reply at all.. but then he just calls and that makes me smile. This guy..

There are some obstacles, and that's ok. I'm willing to take this as slowly as I have to.. I think he's worth it. He doesn't always think he is, but I don't think I am either, we are just two bent people that can maybe lean on each other for a little while.

I guess I'm not broken after all, and even if this isn't the something special I'm looking for.. He makes me willing to at least give it a chance. I haven't felt this for so long, I forgot how wonderful it is.. fear and all.

 

Reasons to stay single..

Ugh. Is there really anything worse than getting back into the dating pool? It reminds you that not shaving your legs because the cat doesn't care if you are furry is a wonderful way to live.

Seriously, all the prep for a date is ridiculous.. even if you don't think sex will be involved. You shave, and pluck, and paint, and curl.. all to eat some food and chat. WTF? I can eat and talk in my sweats and a ponytail for craps sake. This however is not the reason for today's blog.. just random ranting before we get to..

The good stuff.

I have so far gone out with four men.. and I think maybe I should just quit while I'm ahead.

Let's start with the most recent.. sweet and funny and cute and young. We talked for a week, both through text and on the phone.. getting to know each other. He was adorable. Said the sweetest things, was smart and sarcastic, he would send me random texts throughout the day of shit to make me laugh. We met for coffee.. and it was awful. Awkward and weird.. no sign of the sparks we had before the face to face. Still, we tried to connect, talking and flirting. I walked him to his car, hug, then the kiss. Blah. If there has ever been a more terrible kiss I would LOVE to know about it, just so I could send sympathy to those involved. I wonder if this was his first kiss.. ever. There was a weird where do I put my hands thing, and several head tilts, before he came at me like a passive aggressive goldfish. He sent me a text later, and we had to agree that this was not something that either of us wanted to pursue.

Now, the one before him.. Tall, cute in a granola kind of way, younger by a bit, creative and sexy. This guy is so precious it almost hurts. We have discussed our baggage, our needs, our wants.. gone out a few times, he has such an old fashioned way about him. I like this one.. then he said something that freaked me out bad.. I'm not sure I can even type it out. Ugh.. ok.. here goes.. He was dropping me off after dinner, we were making out a little in the car, nothing too steamy but still decently warm.. he puts his head on my shoulder and whispers  into my ear.. I can't say it! It's just awful! No No No.. ok.. deep breath.. he called me Mommy. Said he wanted to be my baby boy and called me mommy. Gah. Needless to say.. we haven't talked much since that night. I know I should probably at least let him know why I have suddenly gotten so busy.. but eww.. the thought of the entire incident makes my skin crawl.

Guy before that one.. I think is a druggie.

The first guy. Ah.. I have written about him before. This guy is the one I wanted. We are making a half assed attempt at being friends.. but I think that's pretty much over. Smart, sexy, seriously cute, honest and sweet and I trust him.. even now. This is the guy I can be 100% open with. I knew going in that he was in love with someone else. I knew he wasn't going to fall in love with me. But.. then things got weird. Feelings got involved anyway. Then he bolted. Problem is, I can't compete with a chick that needs him. A sick girl at that. He has a martyr complex.. get's used and treated like crap and he prefers that. So I don't count, feelings don't matter, and I gotta move on.

I know that you have to wade through the muck that everyone surrounds themselves with in order to find that  real person.. but damn it's gotten nasty out there.

I'm not done yet, it's really early in the game, I just gotta put on my big girl panties and keep wading. Anyone got a pair of galoshes I can borrow?

Good for you.. good for me..

I have a dilemma, one that shakes my foundation of good sex with no strings, and I am rather annoyed with myself for the mess I am making. 

It started innocently enough. Cute young guy is interested in me, added bonus.. I am interested back. We talk, we decide on dinner and see what happens. What happens turned into take me right here now, and do it again tomorrow as well. No problem. He's not a keeper, he's too young and into someone else.. no strings! Finally. 

We don't talk quite as much. He seems ready to make some kind of gesture to this other girl. Wait, I'm not ready yet. If nothing else, I like talking to him.. and kinda miss not doing that. He is the first guy I have been open with in a really long time. We are sort of friends.. and even though I know this isn't anything other than a fling I have discovered that I like knowing he is around. 

Yesterday I was feeling tender (girl stuff and this damn project I am working on) and I got a one-two punch that, quite frankly, has me reeling a bit. After hardly talking, up pops a text asking if I know where to get a gift box for jewelry, like a necklace or a ring. Umm.. why would you ask your side chick where to find something for your real girl? I do have feelings, even if I try to hide them.. I have shown that. So ok, boundaries have been re-established. Move on. I found myself in a weird place, I needed to talk and just connect with someone. I reached out to him. My mistake. After a barrage of 3 and 4 word texts, he didn't even bother to acknowledge the ones that meant something, the ones I needed him to see and understand. 

Well. I guess I realize that my whole no strings thing comes with strings.. they just happen to be attached to me. If he were to show up today and tell me that he wanted more, I would turn him away.. but maybe part of me wanted to mean something anyway. 

I spent a great deal of time in my last relationship trying to mean something to someone. I thought I was past that. 

Maybe we never really break our patterns, regardless of the context of our interactions. Maybe we are always going to find ourselves taking the same emotional steps in our friendships, our hook ups, and our relationships. 

I want to be wanted. Even if I don't want you. I want you think about me, with a smile or a sigh or a tingle. I want you to want me.. and I guess it will always be that way.

Can I realistically expect a sexual relationship to have no consequences? When this is over, and we don't talk anymore, when he is home with his real girl and his real life and his real feelings, am I going to be sad because I really only ever meant sex and fun and distraction from those things?

Probably. Not because I want to be the girl, but because I want to think that I am not easily set aside or forgotten. My image of myself is highly over-inflated, I think I am the greatest thing ever.. and when I find out how simple it is for some people to walk away and never think of me again, my ego is bruised.

I am not in danger of heartbreak, but I am in danger of a battered ego.. which may be worse. 

Not the norm..

This isn't my usual blog. It's a bummer so be warned.

When my ex-husband and I were dating, my future mom in law was not fond of me. The feeling was mutual. We argued, we made threats to each other, we generally put my ex directly in the middle of our extreme dislike. Throughout the divorce, we both made sure to place blame on each other for the destruction of the marriage.

 Jan and I slowly found a way to get along. When she realized that I was not taking my girls away from their family, and was not going to turn them against their dad or the rest of them.. we started to build a friendship.

I can say now that I love this woman. She is special and I take strength from the relationship we have found.

This afternoon the entire family has been dealt a devastating blow. Jan has cancer. It is bad. Chances are very strong that we will not have this wonderful woman with us for much longer.

 How do I tell her how much she means to me? I will tell her, through tears and with shaking voice, that I am proud to have known her.. she has been an adversary and a friend, and I do not want her to go. She needs to be here for the latest grandchild's wedding, for the next great-grandchild, for her own children and for her husband who may fall apart without her.

 Jan is the glue that holds the entire dysfunctional family together.. and they are going to implode. I am not part of the family anymore..there are members that despise me and members I truly hate.. but she is still important to me.

I am thankful to know her.. and have hope that she, in her stubborn way, will be here for me to tell these things to.. but not for many years.

Slut Shame?

The thought that a woman is 'easy' because she wants sex is stupid. Women who enjoy sex, who are happy to have sex on a daily basis, outside the 'bonds of marriage' and who admit to having sexual friend or the occasional one night stand are not amoral. They are not loose or easy or full of self doubt and loathing. Men say they want sex all the time.. well guess what.. so do women! Why do we have to pretend that we don't think about sex, or want sex, or enjoy sex, in order to be attractive to a guy?  

 Men can and do have sexual encounters exactly as I just described above, yet it is the women involved that are shamed. We are bitches and hos and sluts and tramps.. never have I heard a guy describe a one night stand without at least ONE of those words being used to describe his partner in crime.

EXCUSE ME??

Why do we have to pretend that we don't think about sex, or want sex, or enjoy sex, in order to be attractive to a guy?  

I am a classy, intelligent, beautiful woman who fucking LOVES sex. I have no shame in admitting that sometimes a random one night stand is EXACTLY what I need, or that I do not feel cheap having a booty call buddy. I absolutely refuse.. yes.. REFUSE.. to accept that because I am having sex when I want to, and how I want to, that I am less 'wantable' than a woman who keeps her legs shut till the third date.

Women that are free with their sexuality are awesome. We don't play games. I'm not going to pretend that I am some shy virgin until you have spent enough money on me to pry my thighs apart.. nor am I going to hike up my skirt in some back alley because you bought me a drink. If I don't want to hump you, I'm won't.. and if I do want to, I will. No arbitrary time line, no dollar amount, no stupid rules that are in place to make me feel ashamed about sex.

If you don't respect me because I put out, that's your loss. I respect me. If you want to believe that I am worth less because I liked it, again that's your loss. I know I am worth more. It shouldn't be a battle to get laid, and fighting for it doesn't make it mean anything. How stupid do you feel when the woman you had to beg won't give you a blow job because it offends her delicate nature?

Don't think that an 'easy' woman isn't an amazing woman.. we are allowed to be both.

Sorry Bob.. but I call BULLSHIT!

Sounds like breakfast..

This little story popped up in my fb newsfeed a few weeks ago, and I have been turning it over in my head ever since. 

A young woman went to her Grandmother and told her about her life and how things were so hard for her. She did not know how she was going to make it and wanted to give up. She was tired of fighting and struggling.

Her Grandmother took her to the kitchen. She filled three pots with water. In the first she placed carrots, in the second she placed eggs, and in the last she placed ground coffee beans.

She let them sit and boil without saying a word. In about twenty minutes she turned off the burners. She fished the carrots out and placed them in a bowl. She pulled the eggs out and placed them in a bowl. Then she ladled the coffee out and placed it in a bowl.

Turning to her Granddaughter, she asked, "Tell me, what do you see?" "Carrots, eggs, and coffee," she replied.

The Grandmother asked her to feel the carrots. She did and noted that they were soft and mushy. She then asked her to take an egg and break it. After pulling off the shell, she observed the hardened egg. Finally, she asked her to sip the coffee.

 "What's the point, Grandma?"

Her Grandmother explained that each of these objects had faced the same adversity - boiling water - but each reacted differently.

The carrot went in strong, hard and unrelenting. However, after being subjected to the boiling water, it became weak.

The egg had been fragile. Its thin, outer shell had protected its liquid interior. But, after sitting through the boiling water, its inside became hardened.

The ground coffee beans were unique, however. After they were in the boiling water they had changed the water.

"Which are you?" she asked her Granddaughter. "When adversity knocks on your door, how do you respond? Are you a carrot, an egg, or a coffee bean?"

I have allowed myself, encouraged myself even, to become the egg. Hard and unyielding, wrapped up in a shell that does not protect my soft insides but hides the hard and cynical center of me from view.

I always believed that I handled life's difficulties well, gaining wisdom from my mistakes and fighting the injustices as best I could. What I discovered however, was quite different.

 I let every negative thing in my life harden my heart. I was not learning from my mistakes.. I was using them to build my armor. I railed against circumstances I would never gain control of, never change, taking every rebuff as another reason to mortar my walls high and strong. I unwittingly formed an unbreakable barrier between me and the world, all while believing I was only creating a thin shell.

These walls do not serve me well. They keep out love and friendship and happiness and hope.. and hold in fear and pain and loneliness and regret.

 I am tired of living inside this fortress, and I have begun to create a doorway.. but because I thought I was only cracking a shell, the process is more involved than I expected. 

I am afraid.

When the door is done, will I be able to open it.. will I even have the nerve to reach for the handle?

I am the egg, but I want to be the coffee.

Well..

Ok all.. this is going to be a serious kind of blog today. Sorry.

My mom is a good person, kind and giving and always glad to do things for/with her granddaughters. Proud of her adult children, and can be quite funny.

Until she cracks open a bottle of bourbon.

Then she is hateful, mean, and bitter. She rants and raves at anyone unlucky enough to be in the same house with her, including the pets and television. Every mistake you have ever made gets pulled out and thrown at you, usually with derisive laughter and a mocking tone. She spews "when I was growing up" or "My mother would have never"..

 (let me clarify that my mom's mother was a horrible parent, allowing her children to be physically and sexually abused before tossing them into a Home (like an orphanage) for years, where they were subjected to even MORE abuse. However, in her drunken rampages, my mom claims a golden and beautiful childhood with a strong and loving mother who worked herself silly to raise a brood of kids.)

My mom's examples of how wonderfully she was raised, and how wonderfully my brother and I were raised, are brought up for the sole purpose of condemning the behavior of either myself as a parent or of my kids as people. My children are lazy, or spoiled, or ungrateful, or disrespectful.. they will never amount to anything because they are just terrible people, and I am to blame. (Her bile is always directed at me, even if she goes about it in a round-about way)

 I have made mistakes as a parent and as a person, we all do. In the heat of my mom's diatribe, every single misstep, every bad boyfriend, every wrong turn I have had becomes a battle cry for how completely she despises me.

Make no mistake, my mom hates me, with a burning passion. (That may sound childish, but it is a truth that can not be masked)

I am held up for dissection.. compared to my brother, my cousins, her siblings, random people she has seen on tv or in the news.. and found lacking in every way. I have been told to get out of my children's lives, that they would be better off if I simply didn't exist. I have been told that it is a good thing I couldn't have more babies because I am a slut who will spread my legs for anyone. I have been told that maybe I should apply for disability because I am too stupid to hold a job. I have been told that I am alone because once any man gets to know me he sees how useless I am and runs. I am fat, stupid, lazy, useless, selfish, self-centered, cruel, lacking in morals.. she has even gone as far as stating that maybe I was retarded, and she probably should have just had an abortion and saved everyone the trouble of supporting me.

My mom is an alcoholic. She has been an alcoholic since my brother and I were teenagers, maybe before. My mom knows she is an alcoholic, knows she is abusive when she drinks, and doesn't care.

I have tried for years to be there for her, to help her stop drinking.. I am done. She has ripped my little family apart, my oldest is moving out and my youngest is scared of her. I have to leave her. My mom says she hates being a mom, and a grandmom, so I will remove those burdens from her life. It will not be easy for my girls and I, but it is time to cut my mom loose before we all hate her.

I don't have a job, but I will find something. The place we can live makes this apartment look like the Broadmoor, but it will be a safe and loving home. There may not be cable or internet for a while, probably not even a phone, but it will be a better place for at least my youngest and I.. my oldest isn't coming back.

I write this not to condemn my mom, or to look like a victim, but to simply say enough is enough and declare that my life will no longer be hers to destroy.

Resolutions..

Every year, I make my New Years Resolutions.. they are always the same : Lose weight, find love, get rich. Not always in those words, but they are still the same basic ideas. These last until the first piece of cake, the first hint if intimacy, or the realization that I have no idea how to get rich. This year, in honor of my 40th new year, I am switching up my list.

I don't need to find love, I have it.. my family and my friends love me unconditionally. I don't need to get rich, I would just spend it on plastic surgery and sequined hot pants anyway. I don't need to lose weight, I am a fat girl and would look ridiculous being a skinny girl.

Resolution 1: I resolve to laugh more. If you have seen ANY picture of me from this last year, you may be wondering just how I plan on fitting even more laughter into my life, but I am willing to carve out some time for laughter every single day.. even if I must sacrifice other things.. like crying.

Resolution 2: I resolve to dance more. I will faithfully put the tv on an 80s music station and dance about the house with wild abandon in my underwear.. because it is fun and will embarrass my kids.

Resolution 3: I resolve to lose my inhibitions. I know, I don't really need to lose any more.. I am a shameless tart as it is.. but I am gonna try really hard to lose those last stubborn 5 or so inhibitions that I just can't seem to get rid of.

Resolution 4: I resolve to google more responsibly. Instead of using Google to look up things like "blue waffle" I promise to use it once a day to look up stuff about science or something. (OK.. I do that all the time, I enjoy being smart.. I just want you all to google blue waffle!)

Resolution 5: I resolve to be the best me I can be. I am learning to love the fabulous and unique self that I am, I will continue to know that I am a great human being.

 Resolution 6: I resolve to pay attention. To the world, my country, my state and my neighborhood. I will not sit quietly while people are abused, overlooked, or repressed. I will fight alongside my fellow humans for equality and tolerance.. and will be vocal about their rights. I will attempt to fill the minds of the uninformed, and call out the names of the ignorant.

Resolution 7: I resolve to be a woman my daughters can be proud of. Every day I will show my girls that being exactly who you are is acceptable and the right thing to do.

There ya go.. my Resolutions for 2013. These may be the hardest ones I will ever keep, but they are the most important I have ever made. I've got a feeling this is going to be the best year yet!

Happy New Year!

Slump..

It's the holiday season.. hooray! I love the spirit of the holidays, everyone taking the extra moment to think about others, embracing those who have less, making an attempt to overlook differences and filling the gaps with love. So much to enjoy, the human spirit at it's best. That being said, I despise the commercialism of the holidays, the grabby, me me me, I want, there must be thousands of dollars worth of stuff under the tree or you don't love your family, I hate that crap so much!

My 9yr old informed me the other day that she doesn't really need much for Christmas..  I have too many toys, and too many clothes, but maybe I could use a few online game memberships and new Monster High dolls. This from the child that WANTS every toy she sees on tv, who calls me into her room to see every commercial so I know exactly which toy she is hyperventilating over. I was flabbergasted (don't you just love that word) the conversation came out of nowhere, we weren't talking about the holidays or toys or anything! This must have been weighing on her mind, she isn't really a serious talk kind of kid.

Every year I swear that we are not going to go crazy with the gifts, and every year I panic and make a last minute expensive trip to the store. I am going to make every attempt to not do this. I am going to listen to what she really wants, and be ok with the the small puddle of stuff under the tree. I want her to understand that meaningful is better than massive, and I think she has learned that far better than I have.

 I am not going to any box stores, I think I am buying her mainstream gifts online. I am making gifts for the adults in my life, up-cycling and re-purposing. I will probably be adding a few hand made things to her tree stash as well. I have seen some things in our local shops that I would like to bring home, however, cost is such an issue shopping local! I realize why, and I will put a little money into the pockets of small business owners, but it's gonna hurt.

I want to create a slump for the commercial side of the season. I want us to begin to create our gifts, to embrace the unique gift, not prize the same gift everyone else bought. In the grand scheme of things, the ginormous stores are not going to notice my piddly money not being there. I will notice though. It may not be much, but I can't and won't continue ranting about how terrible the commercialization of the season has become while hitting up Target and Toys-r-Us for plastic crap and cookie cutter sameness.

My tree may not be piled with boxes, but I will know, and those that love me will know, that what is under the tree is special.. and that is what the season is all about.

Cha-chas, cookies, and ya-yas..

During a conversation with a friend the other day, I called my girl bits a cha-cha. She looked at me and said.. why can't people say vagina?

I was taken aback. I only ever use "cute" names for my stuff when I am around others, because there are women that are deeply offended by the V word. However, at home, it is always called a vagina. My girls have grown up knowing and using the anatomic names for not only their own junk, but the junk of the opposite sex as well.

When my oldest daughter was young, maybe 2 or so, we were hanging out at my cousin's house. Kate was riding a trike when she slid forward and whacked her vagina on the middle bar thingy. We saw what happened, and my cousin asked her, "Did you hurt your cookie?" Well.. Kate looked at her oddly, she had no cookie.. what was this about cookies.. did everyone else get a cookie when she wasn't looking? To save my poor confused child, I said, "Did you hit your vagina?" Kate replied that she had, but wanted to know more about those cookies. I thought my cousin was going to shit on herself! How can you use that filthy word! Thinking that I had unknowingly said fuck or something, I asked which word, and apologized for being offensive. Vagina, she said.. how can you teach your kid to say THAT word.. it is a horrible nasty disgusting word.. you should be ashamed.

Oh.. really?

Much like my friend, I don't KNOW why people are terrified of the words vagina and penis. They are after all, just words.. like tree and donut and blue.. yet as a majority, we see these words as dirty. More than likely, our aversion to the use of vagina and penis stems from our overall suppression of all things sex.

We are a country of mixed messages. We are unable to discuss sex except in the most abstract of terms, yet we expect our kids to have a concrete grasp on sexual behavior. We dress our daughters in hyper-sexualized clothing, then demand they remain virginal. We encourage our sons to view females as sexual objects, then do not enforce a behavior of respect. It reminds me of the gypsy culture currently being shown on tv. These girls, from as young as 4 and 5, put on the barest minimum of clothing and dance about like strippers. The boys force girls into dark corners and pinch, push, and belittle them into giving a kiss. It is against culture to be sexually active before marriage, yet the messages being sent are nothing but sexual in nature.

How about this.. let's all teach our kids, and ourselves, some new words. Vagina and penis.. say it.. V-a-g-i-n-a and P-e-n-i-s.. now, talk about them. Talk about sex. Talk about how great it feels, how scary the first time is, how it isn't a shameful act and anyone that makes you feel bad about having sex is wrong, how it's better to wait until you are older because sex is powerful and sometimes it's hard to handle the emotions even when you are an adult, how to protect yourself with condoms and birth control, how it's ok to share your body with someone else but maybe not with everyone else.. don't sugar coat it, but don't make it a horror story. Break out of the sex shaming and bring sex, vagina and penis out into the light.

We can not expect a person who can only call a vagina a ho-ha to have anything other than a repressed and dim knowledge of healthy sex. At the very least, just imagine the dirty talk.. oh yea baby, put your dingle in my ya-ya.. ummmmm.. nope.

The way things are..

When you see the title of this blog.. single and broke.. you immediately know two things about me. I am single, and I am broke.

Well.. I am so single it's scary, I haven't had a single date since my relationship to the ass-monkey broke up, and that was a year and a half ago. I harbor a crush on someone I can never have, but that's nothing new, and nothing to write about. Suffice it to say, nuns get more action than this diva does right now. sigh. I'm cute.. I'm funny (I think I'm funny anyway) I have a great smile.. yet singledom reigns. Maybe someday..

I am broke.. all the time. Now, when I say broke, I don't mean I gotta pull out the plastic and charge some stuff.. I mean in my pocket right now I have less than a dollar. I don't have plastic, I don't have a bank account, I have "here is some cash, when it is spent it is gone". The only creditors that call me are the utilities and cable people.. just before they start shutting shit off. I have been out of work for a long time, I have been reduced to begging for a bar job at the dive down the street. (I might actually get the job though) I am sick of being broke.

Maybe I am single BECAUSE I am broke. Oh wow.. my mind is blown!

Anyway.. some things you don't get from my blog title.. I am stubborn, I am loud, I am loyal, I am honest, I am goofy, I love to dance and craft and 80's music. I am creative, I am humble (stop laughing!), I give great advice, I love to cook and eat and laugh and sing and I watch reality tv sometimes.

I am single and broke, but that is just a teeny tiny part of who I am.. it just happens to be the sometimes funniest part ;)

Oh.. reality television..

The girls and I spent the afternoon cleaning out closets today. It was not an enjoyable experience. We actually got ONE closet cleared, sorted through , and re-hung in about 5 hours.. tomorrow we will start a second closet that will probably take just as long. Why.. because I am a clothes hoarder. No lie.

I volunteer every week at a clothing give-away.. and every week I bring home bags and bags of clothes. I gather every designer label, and if it looks like it MIGHT fit someone in the house.. into the bag it goes. Absolutely everything in my size comes home with me.. regardless of personal style or age appropriate-ness. I drag home all these clothes, enough for every single person in my house to have a clean outfit for months without washing a thing.. seriously.. then I pile them up everywhere because there is no room in the closets or drawers. My 9 year old has a closet full of stuff she won't even grow into for YEARS.. yet it all hangs there.. waiting. My fashion unconscious 21 year old has designer clothes she would never ever wear, and I know she won't when I bring them home.. but they still occupy space in her closet because I simply HAD to get them for her.

It's selfish. I know it is. There are people that come into the give-away that are in such dire need of things, and all I can think is that I have to get the clothes sorted and hidden before anyone sees the quality or brands or sizes I am stuffing into my huge bags.

The other day, I was sorting donations when a larger woman came in. She looked about my size, and asked me about the plus sized clothing sitting in a pile beside me. It was MY pile, full of brands from Nordstrom and Macy's and Bloomingdale's.. so I told her it all had to be cleaned before it could be put out. I sat there for a few minutes, watching this lovely woman pick through the stacks of small sized jeans and tiny tops, knowing that she wasn't going to find a single thing because I had taken every last item in her size. I felt like an asshole. As she was getting ready to leave, empty-handed, I called her back and put the entire pile into bags and told her to take it all.  

 I have a problem.

 You can't tell by just walking into my apartment that I have a hoarding issue. My shame is safely tucked away behind closed bedroom doors. I decided that you will not see me on an episode of "Hoarders".. so today we began the purging process.

I do not need a tweed skirt from DKNY.. I do not need a plaid blazer from YSL.. I will never put these things on my body.. ever. If I went shopping, I would not be caught dead buying any of this stuff! I am a bright, bold girl.. a little rock-n-roll diva.. so why the fuck did I bring home floral print, or ruffled lace, or houndstooth? It was expensive.. for someone.. and I couldn't pass up a designer labeled anything for FREE!

We filled three trash bags, a box, and put aside another box for a friend to look through.. all from one closet. It was a struggle. Every skirt, every top, I agonized over before tossing it into that bag. Come on! That's a Ralph Lauren jacket! Really!? That's a $200 dollar lace dress! I finally stopped "looking" at what was going, because it made me a bit nauseated. No, I was never going to wear it, but it was pretty and expensive and I LIKED having it.

I told you, I have a problem.

Tomorrow comes the really hard part.. going through the munchkins closet. I want my girls to have nice clothes, and I can't afford to buy them, so dumping all these designer duds into a bag is going to kill me.. but my punk princess is not going to ever don that denim jumper with the flower buttons or the adorable polka dotted twin set.. and I know it. Out it will go, back to the give-away, and I can smile when the red spangled skirt from The Children's Place gets picked up and exclaimed over by the little girl that loves it so much she asks for her own bag to carry her treasure home in.

I want to see the look of joy and excitement on another person's face when they discover that $200 dollar dress hanging on the rack, jammed between the polyester housedress from 1960 and the hand knit lopsided sweater in eye-searing orange. I don't need those labels, my girls don't need 25 shirts from American Eagle.. and I will not bring another item home unless I have already donated something of equal or greater value for someone else to enjoy.

I hope.

Oh.. well.. ok then..

Being a broke girl, my main form of communication is on facebook. During the very heated political race for President, I lost a few people.. some were real friends, some were fb friends, all brought a different view of things that I rather enjoyed. You don't have to agree with me to be my friend, you just have to adore me ;)

What I found so interesting about this self-purging on fb, is the manner in which it was done. There were two distinct methods to un-friending me.. the "poof. I'm gone" method..some of which I have to say I did not notice, I know my number has gone down but I just can't figure out who all left.. and the "here's a message about why I am un-friending you" method.. let me tell you, some of those messages were brutal.. which is actually the method I prefer. I noticed a weird little thing..

The people I actually know, the ones that I shared memories with, hung out with, grew up with.. those were the poofers. One second I was seeing a picture of their dinner, the next second other friends were commenting on a picture of their dinner that was not in my newsfeed. Really? Those that I knew almost exclusively through facebook, the subscribers, the friends of friends, the I just met you find me on fbers.. those people sent me a message. (not all but most) Sometimes the messages were not kind, slut and liberal whore and baby killer and n*-lover were usually sprinkled through the text, but at least I knew where I stood with these folks.

I knew which friends I did not see eye to eye with, I would post an Obama thing and they would post a romney thing, but we still talked. We agreed to disagree, then they cut me out of their lives. I do admit to cutting three people from my friends list, with messages to each of them, each of them a rather distant acquaintance. I did not un-friend a single person I actually knew.

Well, I suppose that the person you become is never the person you were, but many of the friends I lost spent so much of their time pretending the person they were never existed.. it doesn't surprise me too much that they simply cut me out. It can be difficult to live your lie when you have a friend that embraces her mistakes and shares every inappropriate memory ;) To each their own, I will miss those friends.. but not too much.. they were obviously not too concerned with losing me.   

I like the nightlife baby..

I was once a party girl, hard to believe I know, but true. Staying out all night, drinking, dancing, going home with strange boys.. no drugs though (except for about 6 months when I was a teen) If there was even a hint of a party.. I was there with my mini on!

 Fast forward a few years, and I was married with baby.. the mommy/wifey thing. The marriage didn't work, but I was doing my part in the responsible adult dept. working, staying home, devoting my life to my daughter. Married a few more times.. I like the IDEA of marriage, just not the prison feeling of it.. and another little munchkin brought me to my 30s. I so desperately wanted the picket fence life. I chased it to every dark and dank corner, making mistakes at every turn in my manic quest for Suzy Homemaker-dom. After my most recent, and devastating, breakup I realized something..

I am still a party girl at heart. A slightly more adult party girl.. but that chick was in there.. screaming for release!  I live for going out, for dressing up, dancing, having a drinky poo or two (or seven if I can afford it) flirting with my "safe" boys. I am still doing the good mommy thing, my youngest daughter is clean and fed and homework done every night, we play and make cookies and snuggle on the couch watching cartoons. I simply crave a different life for just me.. not my kids.. but me.

I am breaking out of my safety zone, not so much an adult party woman.. My inner wild child is bursting through, and be damned how people see me. It is time for me to stop pretending and be who I am, a party girl who makes no excuses for being one. No more innocent eye-lash batting at men I can't have, if I bat those lashes you better know you will be taking off your pants for me. I am gonna drink, I am gonna dance, I am gonna go home with men whose names I never bother to find out. My morality, or lack of it, does not define me as a woman.. I define me and I am good with who I am. I am a free girl,  Let's go ;)

40.. really?

Today, I am 40. Holy fuck.. I am actually 40. I don't now when that happened, yesterday I was 18.. wasn't I? Wow, that number looks so weird, sitting on the screen like that. 40, hmm.


What have I learned in 40 years? I have learned that when a guy says "trust me".. he has an agenda. I have
learned that childbirth hurts a thousand times worse than they say it will. I have learned that no, rubbing club soda on a stain will not remove it.. it will however make the stain more noticeable because it is now surrounded by a huge wet spot. I have learned that regardless of how hard you try, one person can not make a relationship work. I have learned that the heart is not near as fragile as you think, it heals very quickly when you let it. I have learned that boogers can be found anywhere, except in the noses of children. I have learned that fear and pain are temporary, happiness is just a blink away. I have learned that you can, and will, be better off if you follow your heart in all matters.. even if everything blows up in your face. I have learned that Fruity Pebbles do not taste as good coming out as they do going in. I have learned it always gets better. I have learned that families are not perfect, but they love you. I have learned that sometimes your best friends come into your life from the oddest places.

Above all, I have learned that this is the life we have.. we can live it, or we can hide from it.. either way, it will be over before we are ready.

Maybe 40 snuck up on me. I don't have any idea how to be a 40 yr. old woman, but I don't have a clue about how not to be a 40 yr. old woman either, so I guess I will be me and hope that works.

Happy Birthday me.. here's to the next 40!

Midlife crisis.. Like a Boss

I have decided.. I am going to have a midlife crisis. Not some mamby-pamby girlie "what have I done with my life" kind of crisis either.. but a full on "like a man" kind of crisis. Let's be honest here.. the ONE thing guys do better than any woman out there.. is indulge in some serious self-centered ass-hole narcissistic chest thumping when they decide to have a midlife meltdown.

 That's what I'm looking for.. get some new hair, a fake tan, some huge and gaudy costume jewelry (ok.. I already own a fair bit of it.. Not my point) and strut my stuff like I am the hottest tramp on the strip.

My muse for this crisis is an un-named gentleman whose Peter Pan antics were witnessed this past Saturday night. With his toupee-like hair, over-large medallion necklace, and half unbuttoned shirt,  I caught a glimpse of confident greatness. It didn't matter that women were laughing AT him, it mattered that he was not invisible to those women, and we all know you can't get laid if you are invisible. (well, you can.. but that takes on some creepy rape fantasy undertones)

A man's midlife crisis stems from a fundamental need to be seen as young and virile, still being that studly hunter who can put the antelope on the table and then do the little woman till daybreak. The fact that these men wouldn't even KNOW an antelope if they saw one, or that the only way they are doing ANYTHING till daybreak besides snoring is with some help from the viagra fairy, does not matter one whit. It's the perception of youth and manliness that MUST be maintained.

So, how does a woman go about having a "man style" midlife throwdown? Maybe I just need to hit on EVERY single 21 yr old guy I can lay my eyes on.. eventually one of them is bound to accept. Let's forget for a second that any 21 yr old boy I bang is gonna make me feel like a pervert (my daughter is 20).. How exactly do I face my friends with my little puppy in tow? Oops.. already made a mistake! Men do NOT concern themselves with such trivial issues like age and friends acceptance! Ok.. back on track. I just need to get out there and BE young and hot.. I can do that :) Will keep ya'll updated on my progress.. just so everyone can be jealous of my awesomeness.