Chet...Part Deux

All of you clamouring for more Chet stories.....here ya go. To your benefit, Chet is highly tolerant of my blogging - which makes my life that much easier. First, because writing helps me organize my thoughts and emotions (highly important in a new relationship)and second because I want to share with you to the extent that I am able before it becomes highly inappropriate and I find readers camped outside my door like paparazzi.

The funny thing about my relationship with Chet is the timing. I have known Chet for seventeen years. Seventeen years, people. We went to high school together. In our junior year, we were actually each other's first real date. Now, that was a long time ago so I am not going to pretend that I remember everything. I do remember that we doubled with my friend and her boyfriend to go see the remake of 'Romeo and Juliet' and I remember that when he dropped me off at home he was quoting movie lines as I went in the house. Here is what I remember most though - the next day I was walking the school hall by myself (remember I am an insecure, angst ridden teenage girl) and his posse of friends accosted me wanting to know how it went, if he kissed me, if we were going out again, if we held hands during the movie.....I was mortified and that pretty much put an end to that. Life continues on, we graduate, and I don't see him for a few years. Fast forward to the end of my marriage, the infamous summer of sinning....

During a majority of that summer, Lola and I hung out with a group of Chet's friends. For reasons that I am not really sure of, Chet was only out with us on rare occasions - it was usually about four or five of his buddies that we would drink with and party with after the bars closed down. (These same guys would be the ones that lost repeatedly in chess actually) The funny thing about this is that every time Chet would be out with us, I would tell Lola that I was interested in him - but he was never out enough to do anything about it and I was, at that time, in need of someone that would give me lots of time and attention. Timing was wrong. End of summer of sinning comes, Lola and I stop playing with that group of friends....Fast forward to my thirtieth birthday.

Lola and I go out to eat before my birthday festivities at the restaurant where Chet works. We decide that this is our new adult hangout, primarily because we like being able to order a bottle of wine and relax all night. We run into Chet a few times a month for the last year or so. Every time we are there we discuss my attraction to him and debate whether or not I should do anything about it. We almost always decide that if Chet was interested, then he would do something about it. After all, he is a very outgoing, sociable kind of guy and we both thought it was fairly obvious that I was interested. (I don't do subtle well) So we conclude he really isn't interested and enjoy our wine.

I would love to explain to you how we got from there to here - but I don't really know to be honest. Nothing major changed in my life the last month, I didn't all of sudden get super gorgeous, I didn't start wearing new Chet-attracting perfume, I didn't stalk and trap him....life continued on the same way it has all along. I did grow my hair out this year, so perhaps it just finally got to the length he likes - I am uncertain. Lola has a theory that he was one of those people that thought I was flaky and all of a sudden saw the light when I started writing my tell-all blog. I think it more likely that a mystical, purple dragon told him I was amazing. I am still uncertain. But it doesn't really matter anyway.

Here is what I do know. This relationship with Chet has so much potential. More potential than anything I have been part of since my divorce. (Actually, in retrospect, much more potential than my pre-divorce life as well) I feel like he is one of the few people that I have met in life that I don't feel any need to compromise part of myself to make him happy. He gets that my life didn't begin when we started dating, that I had responsibilities and relationships prior to our first kiss. He doesn't whine when I go spend time with my family - he comes with me, harasses my little sister, and jabbers at my baby nephew. He doesn't complain when I am out with my girlfriends - he just tells me to have a good time. He doesn't get annoyed when I have a glass of wine (or three) too many - he acknowledges that I get to make that choice without being scolded. He respects my faith, my values, and the good girl/bad girl combination that is uniquely me. This is different for me because I feel like in the past I have lost myself in relationships trying to be everything my partner needed, trying to adjust my life to fit the kind of life that he wanted. I always wanted to mold myself into the person that my partner wanted me to be. Now I feel like I can just be me, in all my dorky glory. And that I am appreciated that way. It's fantastic.

I know there will be some of you that think I am in too deep, too fast. But it is different with Chet because we have known each other for so long and because we aren't twenty two year old kids that don't know what we are looking for or what we want out of life. Do I know Chet's favorite color? No. (But I guess blue) But do I know what kind of man Chet is? Definitely. And that is what is important. Also, I don't do things halfway. Ever. This is one of those personality flaws/traits that I am aware of, but love about myself. Does this get me into trouble? Oh yeah. I would be silly to pretend that it doesn't. I could throw myself into this and Chet could break my heart next week. But if I am going to do something, I want to do it all the way, I want the full-body experience, all or nothing baby! And as Chet would say.....God doesn't like a coward.

Guest Starring......Lola

***Welcome to Divorce Isn't For Sissies newest feature....guest bloggers. While I was writing many of my different stories, I would think about the people that came on this adventure with me and all the different perspectives that they would have on these events. Sure, I tell you things how I experienced them...but other people may have a different take on how things played out or remember different stories that I could have completely forgotten about - like Lola's mention of the bathroom door, for example. Lola and John Black screamed so loud and so crazy that night over a box of Cocoa Krispies....it seems so ridiculous now, but at the time it was a monster fight through the bathroom door. Funny how time changes the way we view things, isn't it? Anyone else that was part of my journey that wants to share is welcome to as well - I'll even give you a fun alias! To start us off, here is our very first guest blogger.....Lola.***

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I have been given the privilege and honor to write a guest blog for your entertainment…believe that I have some inside knowledge in the subject of said blog, and therefore some very juicy stories. But, alas I have been given guidelines which prevent me from divulging (and also from cussing) about certain activities including stalking, property damage and …er, nevermind… forget those last items…

I will never forget turning the corner into her drive soon after Brad f.., ahem, I mean, screwed up. She was hanging out the window of the kitchen ½ a story up smiling at me. This maybe should have tipped me off for the journey ahead. As I rounded the privacy fence, she poked out the window again with a large pitcher of water, and again a smile, and poured it down…onto an enormous pile of Brad’s most treasured possessions. I laughed and suggested we get the hose.

The series of debacles that followed were heartbreaking and hilarious at the same time. Although I openly objected to Johan Black and all he (didn’t) have to offer our jaded heroine, he did give her a lift of self esteem that was seriously needed at that juncture in her journey. Johan & I drove each other crazy. I remember episodes from when the 3 of us were living together involving bathroom doors (only one existed in the house), parking spaces (who wants the street?!?), groceries & animals where I could have easily committed homicide, hid his body, washed my hands & played dumb for the rest of my life. I’m proud of our heroine for not doing the same to both of us; sure we drove her nuts, too.

Johan withstanding, we had a lot of fun thanks to good friends, booze & boys in the months following Brad’s downfall. Dancing like idiots to burn off beer calories, outwitting unsuspecting boys in any game we knew we could win, making new friends & reconnecting with old ones…Lots of changes in the last few years have turned us from unsure, naive twenty-somethings into responsible, confident women. And it’s been FUN in spite of the so-called tragedies in between.

So…Chet. You have seen a good portion of this go down, you know what you are getting into. But if you f…um, mess, with my heroine your referrals will take a hit! Kidding, if you want to gum her collarbone (clavicle technically) it’s ok with me.

Love,

Lola

Flaky

My sister called me flaky the other day. (I know! My own sister!) I would be more upset with her except I know exactly what she is talking about, even if I don't want to own up to it. She didn't mean that I am a flake as much as I act like a flake in certain situations. Actually, in a majority of situations. This is a new development since my divorce and my tumultuous John Black relationship.

For the record, I am not a flake. I am way closer to the bookworm end of the scale than the airhead side. I would be a life long student if I were financially independent because I want to know everything. Literally...everything. (Can you imagine how fantastic it would be to argue with someone when you knew everything? They could never win! You would always be right!) Facts are like my security blanket. Starting a new hobby I know nothing about? Research! Going on a trip to somewhere I have never been? Research! Looking for a slightly healthy version of pizza bites so that I can just eat more without all that guilt? Research! You get the point....I always feel better with more knowledge, thus my bookworm status. So having established that, why do I act flaky?

I think it is only natural after being hurt to want to protect yourself. With that said, I am definitely the kind of girl that wears her heart on her sleeve, pretty much the ideal candidate for getting my heart broken. And that really isn't something I could change. What I could change was how deep I let people in. So I did. It was easier to keep things casual, keep conversation light hearted and fun....rather than let people dig around in my emotions and prod me with questions I either didn't want to answer or didn't want to even think about to begin with. Letting people see that I was still sad or still lonely years later pretty much killed an evening out and it invited all kinds of people's opinions on my life - which I didn't really want either. After a time, it became habit to keep people distanced, to keep conversations bubbly and fun, to be lively enough to keep people from looking too closely. I wasn't trying to be flaky, I was just trying to be the fun side of myself and keep people at a distance at the same time.

And it works. I am sure that there are many people that think all I do is go out to eat, drink wine, and shop; people that think I am about as deep as a kiddie pool. And that is OK. At that time in my life, the most important thing was to protect myself as I figured out how to heal and move on - so the trade off was completely worth it. Now that I am (mostly) on the other side of it all, it is something that I will have to work on, trusting people again. I like to think that I am not bitter or jaded from this experience, but comments like Emily's 'flaky' comment make me stop and think of all the little ways that I have unconsciously armoured myself against getting hurt again - ways that I don't even think about anymore because they are so automatic. Letting go of those defenses is probably going to be a little bit like weaning a baby off of their security blanket I am sure. After all these years of comfortably settling in behind a social facade it makes me twitchy to even think about being vulnerable again to anyone - family, friends, Chet - but I am self aware enough to know that hiding behind the most entertaining part of my personality isn't going to do me any favors in the long run. It was a great trick to get me here, but I don't want to live my life with any part of my divorce hanging over my head or having any power over me - even if it is just evident in my unresolved trust issues. Thankfully I have a plan to make it easier on myself.....eating out, drinking wine, and shopping.

Get Married? Again? Maybe....

I just started reading this book called "Committed" and it is the follow up book to "Eat, Pray, Love" by Elizabeth Gilbert. To begin with, if you haven't read the first one, go get it. It is a very touching, amusing, readable story of this woman's attempt to find herself after divorce. I promise, it's good. The first word of the book is 'eat' - how could it not be good? Any woman that starts her journey of self exploration with carbs is a friend of mine! Anyway....she just published this next one, and it is all about her study of the institution and application of marriage. She and her boyfriend, through circumstances they can't change, are getting married even though both are highly against the idea of remarriage because of their own previous divorce horrors. This story is her struggle to make peace with that.

This is the one issue that I have never worried about at any point in the aftermath of my divorce. I know that many people do, of course, and I completely empathize with that distrust of something that has caused you so much pain. In my case though, I don't blame marriage for all misery....I blame Brad. And to some extent, myself, for picking a partner so badly. (Although mostly Brad) The problem I had was the person I picked, not the circumstances. Nothing in our marriage vows caused our problems, the institution of marriage didn't whisper in Brad's ear that he should go boink a trashy waitress. No, marriage was not the problem. Brad was just not someone that could withstand life standing next to me - and I blame myself for not seeing that, for thinking that I loved him enough for everything to work out. Love may make the world go round....but love alone does not make a marriage work. Hard work, faith, shared values, patience, common goals, commitment, toe curling sex, and a little bit of love....those things make marriage work. And I picked a boy that couldn't see those things through.

So instead of questioning the institution of marriage, now I just question my judgement. I am not afraid of remarrying, I am afraid of picking badly again. What if it is me that is broken? What if I do this all over again just to find out that I am back in a relationship with a man that doesn't value me and my beliefs and my dreams? I love writing this blog but I do not want to be sitting here in three years writing about why two divorces suck worse than just one. I want to be sitting here sharing stories of how phenomenal my life is once I picked the right man, sharing my success stories.

My dating choices seem to reflect this inner struggle. I would date a rocker boy that loved to show me a good time, but that didn't know if he wanted kids and was estranged from his parents. Instead of seeing this as a sign to get out, I saw it as a challenge. Hmmm....how can I reunite him with his mom and expose him to kids so he sees that he really does like them but has just been repressing it for years??? (yes, I know I'm a fruitcake) Post divorce I was so afraid of being alone that I let many bad choices linger far longer than necessary. And, of course, immediately following that bad choice I would swamped with guilt and rage at my own personal stupidity - so I'd go hunt for a nice guy. You know, the guy your mom will love that is responsible and happy to sit for hours and hold your hand. That guy. They are out there. So I would find a nice guy and try to atone for my preoccupation with the previous bad boy by being everything this nice guy needed. Except...I would get antsy. If he was a fanatic about keeping his car clean, I would drop stuff on the floor to see if he'd yell at me. If he wanted to hold hands and watch a movie quietly, I'd whisper dirty stuff in his ear to see if he'd be shocked. I am just not cut out to appreciate a straight up nice guy. I need him to be a little bent.

So, while I admit to being a bit wary of remarriage, it is really just my own judgement that scares me. But I have to believe that as I get older, I get smarter about my choices and clearer about what I want out of life. Having a failed marriage just lets me see all the things that are important to have in place for another one. It's like I get an extra study guide on what not to do. I have to have a bit more faith in 31 year old me, than in 25 year old me. 31 year old me knows to say no to the bad boy and to say no to the nice guy. I'm holding out for the man that wants to visit my parents house for an afternoon - and still waits to catch me in the hallway to make out for a few minutes while no one is looking. When the nice guy with the wicked streak asks me - I won't be afraid to consider saying yes.

Leg Rebellion

My legs are not happy that I am dating Chet. They used to be comfortable, only had to get pretty and silky once or twice a week - simply maintenance to keep my card in the girls club. No one was looking too hard for missed hairs or playing with my ankles and finding stubble. I would get lazy and let them slide on weekly exfoliation treatments, sometimes even letting them go weeks without a trace of sea salt or sugar. I would only drown them in lotion if it got really, really cold out and it became a worry that I might lose an entire layer of skin if I didn't medically intercede with shea butter.

Now they are expected to perform at their very best daily. No more showers just for soaping up and enjoying the hot water. Back to work.....lather, salt scrub, rinse, lather, shave, rinse......sometimes if I am neurotic I even make them reshave again just to be sure nothing escaped notice. Drowning in lotion is a daily activity. My top skin cells are very thankful and eager to be pretty, but the ones underneath are pissed off that I am not letting those top dwellers just die off so they can finally see the light of day.

And it is not only my legs. My make-up box is pissed when I wake it up every day, routinely spitting face powder at me. My curling iron had practically gone into hibernation, and somehow doesn't even fit my hand the same way anymore. My nail polish got so aggravated that it turned brittle and killed itself so I had to buy all new bottles - making me feel like the worst sort of betrayer as I gave them all a Hefty funeral. All of my bathroom cupboard bottles and jars are in an uproar that they are being worked so hard after being able to pleasantly collect a slight layer of dust while they mingled and drank the mouthwash, gossiping about Susie's bathroom bottles. The only thing breathing a sigh of relief is my collection of pony tail bands that finally get rest after performing day after day in mute exhaustion. Brave little soldiers.

Now, I am really not complaining about having to remember how my skin/body/face/hair regime works. After months of having most of my touches be from drool-covered baby fingers, it is nice to have a reason to exfoliate on a regular basis for someone that doesn't just want to gum on my collarbone. (usually) I even like that I look like a girl day in and day out consistently. I just don't remember it being this much work.

Thank You

When I began this blog, it was purely for the entertainment value. I love to write, I have some funny stories, and I have a small circle of friends that like to giggle at my mistakes along with me. That was all that I ever intended this to be. But soon after I started, I began to get messages from extended friends and from strangers. I received stories from people that had made it through divorce and could relate to how I've come through. I had stories from people in the midst of the process that found hope from how I have handled it. And I have had questions and fears from people that think they are heading in that direction. I am impossibly touched by all of these, and hope that the process continues to be a healing one for all of you.

I think that there is still a stigma with divorce in society - which is surprising since so many people go through it themselves. Earlier in my divorce adventures I often felt like it wasn't something I should talk about or be honest about - it was something that was shameful and most of the time it made me feel like a failure. When you told someone that you were divorced or getting divorced, no one ever knew what to say. They always just got quiet and apologized - like you just told them you had cancer. It made me feel so hopeless. Or they offered sincere, but generic, comments like 'time heals all' or 'you'll get through this'.

Well, time does heal all. But before it does, you are going to make some really stupid mistakes and act in ways that may be totally against the kind of person that you are. And that is ok. That is the reason that it is so important to me that I am brutally honest in this blog. I want people to know that there is an utterly absurd side of divorce that most people don't even think about. And I want everyone that is in this process to see that is completely normal, you are not alone, many others have been there. I promise you are not the only person that has forgotten to get your trash to the curb three weeks straight or the only person to makeout with a completely inappropriate man just because it feels so good to be wanted by someone. All of these crazy mistakes that make you embarrassed to look at yourself in the mirror the next day are things that are happening or happened to many of us. And you are your own worst critic. Every mistake that you make reinforces all the insecurities that you have that make you feel like you don't deserve to be happy, that your spouse was right to not want to stick it out with you. Ease up on yourself, no one else is looking that hard or judging that severely. It does not make you a failure. The future is not hopeless. And you do deserve to be happy. I promise.


So thank you to all of my readers that are letting me share my voice on divorce. I am so touched by all of the support that I have gotten and I am so pleased that people are finding comfort, company, and/or amusement on my page. A few years ago I would never have imagined that there would be a positive outcome at the end of this process, but there is. Not only in the response to this blog, but also in my family, work, and personal lives. And it is my hope that it shows those of you in a similar position that there are possibilities out there for you as well. Just keep the faith.

Chet

I have a short, mildly amusing story to share. I just posted a blog about a week ago about how dating is dead. If you haven't read it, then this post won't be half as funny so go back and read that one. (I'm waaaaaaiiiiiting.)

OK. Up to this point my blog has featured mainly stories from my past, littered with a few current stories about almost-strangers, people that I don't interact with on a regular basis. It has been fairly easy for me to say exactly what I want to say without worrying about what anyone would think of it. So I have been able to pretty accurately portray my life without having to really censor anything. And I like that about my blog. I like that I can sit her in my pjs and share with you - and that you can know that what I am saying is the straight up truth, exactly how it is said. It is important to me that you come on this journey with me as I go, BUT....

I had a date this weekend. Actually several semi-dates all kind of strung together all weekend with the same man. I had such a great time and I would love to dish to you all the juicy stuff BUT...

He reads my blog. (hi baby!) I have to admit that I never thought this situation would pop up really. I never expected to have this many people reading my blog at all actually. So my hands are slightly tied. It would give him unfair power in a new romance if he could read everything that I thought about him and I just can't bring myself to do it. Also, I am uncertain about his level of excitement about being in my blog on display for all of you. It is one thing for me to throw my whole life and psyche open for all of you - it is completely another to drag someone else into it. So I am going to aim for middle ground here. You will just need to be satisfied with the bare bones of my adventure here and the occasional funny story.

To follow my blog standards of semi-privacy, we are going to give him a funny alias. I picked Chet. (For the record, I did offer to let him pick his own but he is apparently happy with Chet - either that or he is merely humoring me.) Here are your bare bones facts. Chet and I have known each other for a long time. So I didn't meet him at an online site or pick him up in a bar or find him in line at the grocery store. For the most part, he knows me fairly well. He is acquainted with the majority of my baggage, has seen me at the worst of my post divorce moments, and still apparently wants to date me anyway. He is extremely clever, has a ridiculously gorgeous smile, and likes my family. He also meets my great shoulder requirement - which is obviously most important. I confess to being slightly smitten.

And here is the funny part. He completely acted on every bad dating principle that I mentioned in my previous blog to get us to this point. He social networked or texted me to get together, he bought me drinks and let me get frisky, he asked me out for a group setting that ended up being date-like. I spent all that time creating that blog to show men the right way to do it, he completely ignores it....and it works because here I am. If he ends up sticking around after I have tossed him into my blog then maybe I will have to go revise that previous blog. Or at least add that there are exceptions to my rules.

Timing

Monday is my birthday! Hip Hip Hooray! I am seriously an overgrown child when it comes to my birthday. And I am not even remotely embarrassed or ashamed of it. Hello?!?! It's the day when I came into the world! Of course we should celebrate! Princess tiaras, feathery boas...bring it on! Typically I over-indulgence myself for about a week or so. I plan dinners out, game nights, spa days, shopping trips....whatever floats my boat that year - and then I tell everyone they have to be there. For the most part, my friends and family give in gracefully and indulge me as well - and, of course, a good time is had by all.

This year is slightly different because I'm splitting my celebration in two. Also, my birthday is on a Monday, so people are less likely to agree that I deserve two weekends. Ideally, I like my birthday to be on Wednesday. That way I get a pre-birthday weekend, my actual birthday, AND a post birthday weekend. Monday is kinda killing it for me. So I am having a long birthday weekend and then at the end of the month, my friend Cindy and my sis and I are all going to have a spa day and night out to mutually celebrate our clustered birthdays. (I am a birthday diva, but I have no problem sharing birthday celebration, as long as we are still celebrating)

The other thing about birthdays, besides my relentless pursuit of enjoyment, is that it is always kind of the time where I take stock of life. (Ok, Stephanie, you are 31...what the hell are you doing? ) More so than New Years with its defeatist resolutions, my birthday is the time where I think about how I want to go forward, about what I want my life to look like, about the kind of person that I want to spend my life with. I am not even going to lie, several of my post divorce birthday conversations with myself were not so positive. And maybe on one or two of my birthday celebrations, the goal may have been get drunk and not examine it too closely. Sometimes it was hard to look past the heartbreak of the moment to keep perspective. But every year, regardless of what happens, my birthday rolls back around. And every year, I am in a new place - it just reminds me that time does heal, time does change things...and it changes me. Almost exclusively for the better.

The older I get, the easier it is to appreciate the timing in life. Sometimes it is about the timing of events....when is the best time to fall in love, go to school, get married, eat a whole box of donuts? (I went to Tim Horton's the other day and glaze donuts have been dancing in my head ever since, sorry) Sometimes it is the timing of people in our life. I know that I take digs at Brad fairly often - and make no mistake I think I earned that right - but for all he did wrong....at one point in time he was exactly who I needed him to be. He was right for me - in that time. Ditto for John Black. He was exactly the person I needed at that time. Both of them changed me for the better in many ways, but neither of them would truly appreciate the person that I am today. Time continues on. And I am sure that when the time is right again...I will meet a man that loves dogs, thinks I am sexiest when I am wrestling with my baby nephew, and wants to sit in a pew with me on Sunday mornings with my family. And every year he will give me princess tiaras and feathery boas for my birthday.

The Night Emily Tried To Be A Sailor .....and other short stories.

I am not a practical woman. Ask my sister Emily. Her and I are barely a year apart in age and sometimes I think that God put all the possible personality traits and qualities into a big ball and cut it in half. Emily got one side, and I got the other. We are polar opposites. You would think this would mean that we couldn't stand each other, but by some miracle we actually find each other amusing more often than annoying. Her analytical nature makes me giggle when she is trying to find her way through any kind of emotional situation and she rolls her eyes every time I try and explain that I made some decision because 'it felt right.' If Emily would have been the one to get divorced, she would have done it much better than me. She would have prepared for any eventual outcome and had a safety net in place. And when it fell apart, she would have stood up and walked away and got on with her life. Even though I handled it exactly the opposite, she stood by me and tried to steer me in as practical a direction as she possibly could. When that failed, she just joined me in my emotional roller coaster - even though it was way out of her comfort zone - but her company as I lived it up all summer was invaluable. Very few people will not only let you make your own bad decisions, but will join in, even though they know it is the wrong path to take - just so you don't need to go wrong alone. She is priceless. (LOVE YOU!!) In this process, we made a few really great memories that we will never, ever share with our children and that my mom (mom, if you are reading...stop!) should probably not see.

My favorite drinking story of all time with Emily is the night we met Brandon. Brandon is one of my best guy friends and we met him at the bar through mutual friends. Specifically, a mutual friend that we are going to call....Lucky. Lucky was a friend of my ex-husbands that I knew - that, frankly, I was trying to seduce as revenge on my cheating rat bastard ex husband. (Yes, I am aware this was not the best idea in retrospect...but at the time, remember I was making decisions on emotion and Jack Daniels) So Lucky and I, and Brandon and Emily, plus a motley crew of their other friends were dancing it up at the bar a little before last call when Emily got sick. In the middle of the bar. Now, I know it is my job to take care of her, but at the time I was annoyed because how was I going to continue my planned seduction of Lucky with a pukey sister in tow? Solution: Brandon. He offered to take Emily back to my house while I went with the other four guys to Taco Bell. Looking back it is funny, and a little frightening, that I handed my house keys and my incapacitated sister off to a stranger so I could go to a restaurant where I don't even eat anything on the menu and blow in Lucky's ear. (Yes, I am anti-taco) Thankfully Brandon was a stand up guy. During the drive home, Emily apparently had to throw up so Brandon pulled over to a curb and Emily proceeded to open her truck door to lean out - which sounds smart ...EXCEPT...she was still buckled in and she fell out, hanging in mid-air, suspending upside down by her belt. Brandon had to put the truck in park, run around to the passenger side, and lift her back in the truck. So funny! Eventually, I did come home and found Emily sprawled out on the sofa with her head in Brandon's lap and a puke bowl on the floor next to them. They stayed that exact same way all night - except for the time when Emily got up to pee....but walked to my microwave and opened it thinking she was in the bathroom....ahhhh Emily...so funny. Brandon has been an adopted part of our family ever since and Emily has learned to correctly unbuckle her seat belt.

During this same summer of sinning, Emily and I hung out with this group of guys that we knew back in high school. Some nights after the bar closed we would go back to their house and continue our merriment. There was the normal amount of drunken behavior in regards to Emily and I being the only females in the party and the men decided to try and trick us into doing things we didn't want to do (think like a drunk 26 year old male and I am sure you'll get the picture. If not, you need to move onto another blog because you shouldn't be reading this type of nonsense) Their trick was to get us to play chess. Now, to be fair, I am sure that most girls at the bar are not proficient chess players...so the guys really thought they had a good thing going here when Emily and I laughed and accepted. I think we played three or four games total and trounced them every time, despite the influence of alcohol. I have a mental picture in my head that will never go away of Emily playing them on the couch with all four of them huddled around trying to jointly debate their next move, while I just lay sprawled on the floor, completely trusting in Emily's ability to thwart them. They were amazed that I put this power in her hands for this particular game and didn't want to put my two cents in, while they all were taking like ten minutes for a single move because they couldn't decide on a strategy. What they didn't know was that my dad is a fantastic chess player - and he started teaching us to play chess as soon as we were able to reason. I think both of us probably had the fundamentals of chess down before we could even read. Both Emily and I could play chess almost automatically, it was that familiar to us. I think sometimes men assume that if you are out partying at the bar that you are automatically an airhead. These guys completely underestimated our brain power, and there was nothing Emily and I liked better than getting one up on men that tried to pigeon hole us as bar girls. We win.

One more! During the summer, after the bars close down there is usually a lady or two selling flowers, trying to pressure the guys into buying them and giving them to someone. Em and I were making our way to the back parking lot of a bar where we were meeting our ride home - one of my friends who was a bouncer. So as we are walking, we get intercepted by a trio of guys and one of them gives Emily a flower and starts to hit on her. Typically I am pretty patient with this kind of thing - it is the bar after all - but, for reasons I don't remember, this night I was just annoyed with them. I vaguely recall thinking this guy was using really corny, awful pickup lines and that Emily was just drunk enough to be buying it. So I started walking her to the parking lot...strange trio of men followed, still chatting up Emily...and we made our way to my friend's truck. I jumped up on the hood of the truck, ignoring them all until Emily called out my name and they all came walking up to me. This is what she wanted: These guys had invited us to come out on their boat with them. Drunk. At 2 in the morning. With total strangers. In the water. This was a no brainer, even for me with a few drinks swirling through my system. But Emily was insistent and continued to try and persuade me with the most non compelling arguments like "oh but it is so hot out, it will feel great on the water" and "think of what a great story we can tell tomorrow about being out on the boat at night" Yeah, great story to hear when our bodies wash ashore! Luckily, right about them my friend the bouncer came out and intimidated them, sending them scurrying on their way. I was grateful. But Emily pouted in the back seat all the way home.

We continued in this vein over a summer and pretty much until the snow flew that year, doing things that I am not proud of, but that I forgive myself for. When the whiskey haze had cleared and I looked over, there was Emily..clutching an empty bottle of Captain, burning all the incriminating photos. I had survived the first six months. Emily hopped off my crazy train and went back to her normal, practical ways. I reluctantly got off my crazy train and continued on with my emotional ways. And for the most part, it has served us well.

Is Dating Dead?

So this past Monday ABC aired a tv show called 'Conveyor Belt of Love'. I didn't actually watch it that night because I was shunning tv in favor of curling up on the couch with a good book. But I was told by several people that it was amusing in an OMG kind of way....so I looked it up online yesterday. The premise of the show is that a handful of girls get to sit on stools as a conveyor belt rotates men around every 60 seconds. The girls get to pick the one they want and then they go out on dates. My life was not enriched by this show, but I was mildly amused for the forty or so minutes it was on my screen.

Here is why it made my blog: One of the girls was explaining her criteria for a man in her little opening monologue and she wanted a man who understood what a date was, an actual planned out date with an activity and a definite start time. And I found myself nodding along as she talked about these men in vicinity of the 30 year mark that had no concept of dinner and a movie, or even the meaning of the term 'planning'. (Quick disclaimer before I get yelled at: If you are a 30-ish year old man that calls women up to ask them out (texting does not count)for a specific time and a specific activity and does not expect that date to automatically end in bed just because you paid for dessert....then you are exempt from this blog.) She was so frustrated by men that seemed to think that 'hooking up' and 'dating' were one and the same. I completely empathize with her. Here are the common ways that I get asked out.

1. This first one is a three step process. Step One. "let's meet up for a drink" Step Two. "of course you can have another, why not? You are a big girl, let me get it for you" Step Three. "let's go back to my place and watch a movie". I will admit to falling for this once...and getting labeled a tease for really wanting to watch a movie. Needless to say I haven't gone out with him again. Say what you mean boys. And trying to get a girl drunk enough to not think straight doesn't make you a player - it makes you a sleaze.

2. Via myspace/facebook/yahoo IM...."OMG u r soooo hottt...I was just looking for a friend of mine(uh huh) and saw ur profile. I am sure u have a bf but if u dont my # is xxx-xxxx. call me and i will show you a good time." Seriously. Here is what you were really doing - searching for single girls in your zip code in your age range, and then sending them all that same message and assuming we will all believe it and be flattered. Not true. Especially when it is in text language and you add multiple t's in 'hot' like you are promoting porn.

3. Through a friend of a friend...."my boyfriend's friend's brother likes you so we should all go out together in a big group and hang out" Really? Does this remind anyone else of mall rat teenagers? Isn't that how you learn to date when you are like fifteen? I might admit to being flattered by the attention BUT I am not going to take you seriously if you can't even pick up the phone and call me on your own.

4. Drunken attempts in a bar at the end of the night. Enough said.

Too many men say that they don't understand women. We are not that difficult guys. Really. Someone sent me an online forward that said, "Woman are NOT complicated. Just tell us we are beautiful and give us chocolate." That made me laugh, and while true, I think the answer is even easier. Make the effort. That's all. And it applies to everything to do with dating. I am impressed and appreciative if I can tell that a guy is making an effort. Whether it is planning a date, paying a compliment that is personal and not just a go-to line, actually listening to the answers we give to your questions....women can tell if you are genuinely putting forth the effort because you are specifically interested in us - or if you are just going through the motions and if it works out, then great...if not, oh well. Whether it is a first date or a fifth date, I want to know that you are there because you really wanted to be there, with me...not that you had a Thursday night free and I was the girl that was available. Of course this is only my opinion, and while I think that most girls will agree, I am sure that there are women out there that like the game and the chase day in and day out - I am just saying that I am not one of them.

At the end of the day, I have an old fashioned soul. I like the different roles of men and women - I don't agree with the theory of thought that says men and women should be the same and that I should do anything a man can do. I don't want to do anything a man can do. I love dating a man that understands this and that makes me feel female. This does not mean I need a man to pay for everything or treat me like I am incapable of making a decision about my own dinner. It just means that I appreciate the differences and enjoy things like having the door held for me. It doesn't offend me in the least. Thus why I am impressed by a man that takes the time to set up an actual night out. I like the anticipation of a good date. I like holding hands in a dark movie theater. I like good night kisses on the porch. I think that when you forgo all the steps like these that you lose the romance of an early relationship. I don't want to look back on how I met the love of my life and remember that we met at a dive bar while he was drunkenly celebrating his buddy's birthday and that his friend bet him he couldn't get me to second base before the night was over. I want more.

Welcome 2010!

Happy New Year everyone! Here is my list of tentative, possibly achievable goals for 2010.

1. Research school options for child related careers and/or invest a ton of time, money and energy into daycare. I truly love kids and no matter what the pay scale, I know that it is something that I will be happy doing with my life. When you work with kids, you know that what you doing is really making a difference in our world - you are helping to create the next generation! And the smile of child has to be one of the purest things that life has to offer. I really want to try and find the right path for me into helping kids in the best way that I can.

2. Keep my Jeep clean. I know that this one is almost certainly headed for the 2010 Fail list BUT...I think it important that I give it a try. I feel like less of an adult when I open the back hatch and pop cans fall out. I am thirty years old, I should be able to put all my groceries in the back without having to juggle five coats, a set of golf clubs, seven books, about 23 different types of windshield scrapers, empty large, McDonald's Diet Coke (caffeine free!) cups, and a partridge in a pear tree. In 2009 I did manage to keep the front two seats and, for the most part, the back seat clean. I even consistently had a trash can...however it was too small to fit more than one of the aforementioned Diet Coke cups. If I can master the cargo portion of the vehicle I may be able to call myself an adult by this time next year. I am thinking of creating a laundry basket sorting system back there....

3. Ignore Brad for at least 75% of the year. This is a pretty attainable goal. I think I ignored him for a good 50% of this year, so I am just building on my previous good work. This sounds heartless, but here's the deal. Brad has crossed a very dirty, morally blurry line....and I am 95% sure that he is never coming back across again. Now, because I am Pollyanna I am going to leave that 5% loophole open in the hopes that he will realize what he is doing to himself....and that is also why I am going to give myself a 25% leeway to be there if he truly needs me. That is just the girl that I am. But for my own sanity, and because I hate to see him the way he is now....75% of this year will be Brad-free.

4. Use my elliptical machine. Notice that this goal is very flexible, very loosely worded. I don't like to set rules that I know I am going to break. My elliptical machine and I go through spurts where we are friends and when we are bitter enemies and when we are hooks to dry sweaters on.....actually that last part is just me. So the goal is purely.....get on the machine. Make it worth the money that I spent on it. Be healthy so that I can one day play tag with my grand kids. Provided that I have kids of course. This part is also important because Jen and I want to be polka-dancing, drinking Busias together when we are old. Thus I need prodigy to call me Busia. But that is a goal for a whole other year.

5. Blog daily and update my status twice daily so that everyone knows everything about my life. Ok - that one is purely a joke. Don't rush to delete me from your friends.


6. Be patient. I am so impatient sometimes for what tomorrow may bring that I am afraid I am going to miss all the stupendousness (spellcheck insists that this isn't a word. I respectfully disagree) that is today. I think that a lot of this is from being single. It is easy to feel like life is going to pass you by if you don't pair up and procreate - and being divorced just ups that pressure more because now I have to fall in love and marry twice while all my smarter friends are only having to do it once in the same time period. But I need to have faith that God has a plan for me. And it will all happen when it is supposed to, with or without my impatience. I might as well enjoy the ride.

With that said, this is my mantra for 2010, brought to you by the book of Jeremiah:

"For I know the plans I have for you," declares the Lord, "plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.....you will seek me and find me when you seek me with all your heart."

When I am impatient and trying too hard to make a future appear now, on my time table....this is what brings me back to earth. Faith that God has a plan for me. That He has put things in my path that have purpose...for me, or for others...and that if I keep the hope that He has given me, all will unfold exactly as it should, exactly when it should. All I need to do is keep the faith.