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I Hope You Brought Your Gloves

13 Feb

As Valentine’s Day is looming over our heads like a neon pink light of fury pointing cupid’s arrow to romantic cliched dooms-ville, when is the time to cut your losses and follow that light to the nearest bar… or decide to continue to fight for a love that may not exist except in Hallmark cards and on disgusting heart shaped candy messages?

Fights in relationships are a very common thing. So THEY say. (Yeah, I don’t know who “they” is either.) But when is fighting becoming less productive and more seductive? Is it the arguing that’s keeping the relationship exciting in a downhill crash and burn type motion… or is it really improving your communication and the nature of your relationship?

Should fighting be considered a normal sequence of events? And when should that sequence start? 2 minutes in? 2 months in? 2 years in? 2 decades in? 2 fifths of vodka in?

Is fighting a sign that you love each other and are working on the relationship… or perhaps is it a sign that this just isn’t working… and someone should be the bigger person, ultimately giving up the good fight?

Taking bets now.

AND should we put the gloves aside until February 14th is over for the sanctity of it? (Hahahahahahaha  No, that was a rhetorical question. How about we just realize it’s a day set aside for stress to come knocking on your door to present you with higher than achievable expectations.)

Happy Valentine’s Die Hard Day Bitches.

Hey, Nice Couch

6 Feb


They say in relationships what you put up with is what you will get.

When it comes to straddling the ever lowering fence of getting to know one another over dinner and theatre dates to being in a “normal” relationship how long should you climb?

When the beginning “dating” period is over and as a couple you are becoming more comfortable with one another when is the appropriate time to say “whatever” and give up on the planning and beautifying anxiety ridden preparations? I understand its the natural progression of relationships… but shouldn’t there be a little bit left for some in-public shenanigans?

As a female in America fighting for respect and any kind of romance or sparkle daily, when is the right time to give up the fancy fight and say f**K it… allowing your significant other to become ultimately lazy letting the “relationship” period pull its dark hood over your coupledom’s head?

Is this something to fight for? Or is it really just acceptable to waive your white flag and start making nightly dinners followed by Netflix movies and late night romcom’s followed by morning scrambled eggs?

As Valentine’s approaches I realize that oftentimes when you are “supposed” to be going out due to a national holiday… or hallmark coming out as a drug user of steroids… I wonder should we continue to expect someone to WANT to bring on the sparkle for all of time… or are sweatpants and takeout food just the normal sequence of events? I can’t help but want to fight the urge of such a thing known as comfort… just to keep the special. Perhaps if not avoiding the monotony of TV and couple supermarket trips means that you have made it in the quest of relationships and dating. Instinctly, I want to pull a mulligan and resign from the game. On this path… the only next logical move is farting in bed and tweezing each other’s eyebrows. Or perhaps, it is worth the fight to keep the fantasy… at least one night a week? As women isn’t that what it’s all about? Being single for most of my life, I appreciate the fun and glitter of dating and making plans and having something to look forward to.

However, if examining oneanother’s boogers and foot cramps really is the reality of the situation, I’d rather keep my reality to Keeping Up with the Kardashians and become a serial first dater… until I’ve reached Betty White status at least.

I guess thank gawd for and Ben and Jerry’s.

Here come the snuggies. *le sigh

The Sure Thing.

20 Dec

sure-thing-jbI was talking to an older widower the other day and she was trying to brainstorm how to meet someone and I suggested she go to a happy hour and she asked “but by myself?? I wish there was someone I could go with.” I suggested a woman in our office that was blonde, looked ten years younger, and could talk to a wall if it would engage her. She constantly smiled and I knew men would come over with the bait of the blonde chatty kathy, providing an opening for the brunette shy widower to make her mark with her humor and wits… This is called a sure thing.

My friend was not interested in going with this woman, but I don’t think she got the point of it.

Is it called taking advantage of people or simply just seeing an opportunity and taking it? If you know someone will help you out why wouldn’t you go for it immediately? It’s not selfish, it’s time management. Why beat around the bush… if you see someone chewing a piece of gum, why wouldn’t you ask them to have a piece… or someone wearing a watch what time it is? You wouldn’t ask the kid who is failing the class to explain the homework to you, amiright? I know I help people out in ways I don’t even know. One just has to be smart enough  to spot the opportunity and pounce. If you are smart enough to see something that will make your life easier, why wouldn’t you go for it? Someone would do the same for you.

I do, however, find this skill probably most similar to how serial killers choose their victims and married men target their mistresses… so proceed with caution and don’t say I didn’t warn you.

Don’t think if I have a flat tire (as a young female that usually wears heels and skirts) I don’t immediately target the burliest man with football playeresque stats to help me, completely overlooking to 90lb cheerleader? Duuuuuuh.

Everyone has skills and something to offer and I think picking out the sure thing is a compliment to them… usually. I’ll admit maybe I take advantage of this superpower ability to read people’s strengths and what I can get away with, but how else is a single girl with zero muscle mass and a negative bank account supposed to survive?

So feelings huh?

18 Dec

how-i-feel-when-funny-picture-1506When finding yourself in a new relationship and realizing you are not just rusty you’re completely inept, how does one catch up in the game of feelings? Apparently these things are supposed to be able to be verbalized and spoken………. but whyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy? Is it like if you break the ice then there’s a flood of feeling spewing from your mouth like the Niagara Falls of emotion or are you supposed to chip away at it like a 5,000 foot wide log with a dull fork and a knife. Either way it seems painful, and a lot of work.

Whats the big deal really? Communication? What a silly concept… no one ever got anywhere COMMUNICATING right? Why can’t we all just telepathically stare at each other and understand what the other is feeling? Excuse me while I disappear into my much-needed invention laboratory.

I think it’s all just really overrated, which is why I’m more single than not. Ok, I just really need to find a personal tutor and multiple books on tape on the subject. Do they have Rosetta Stone for relationships?

I think social media has not only revolutionized how we communicate, but stunted our voice on the matter. You can say a lot through just posting a relationship status or tagging someone in a photo followed by hearts, but in real life face to face (or even copping out on the phone or in text) I feel like there is a missing link to my brain (okaayyyyyyy maybe my heart, blah blah blah) and my mouth. I even tried writing a letter… like with my hands and a pencil and I had no opinions…I was like the first caveman of the english language…yeah…I know… anyone here a doctor??  WHERE IS MY KEYBOARD!?

But seriously, when one has the emotional capacity of a nat and the attention span to go with it when  attempting to discover trust and truth in a relationship in the 21st century, how does one make feelings become words and not just inner obsessive compulsities? When is the right time in a new relationship to actually use your words and stop with the charade?

“I Do.” P.S. Are you gay?

7 Nov

Have you ever heard the expression “Where have all the good men gone?”

Well I’ll tell ya where they went.

They went gay.

If you want a guy that cares, is crafty, and dresses like he intended to put that on his body, you gotta start looking over the fence at that other, well-trimmed  grass.

However, if you aren’t willing to undergo a full sex change, what does this mean for a single heterosexual girl??

It means nothing good can come from this.

Have you ever seen that movie Friends With Money? You know the creepy one with Jennifer Aniston who plays a maid and ends up with a fat agoraphopic. (what Paula Deen had BEFORE the diabeetus) WELL anyways, her friend played by Frances McDormand was a HOT MESS… and she was married to a very feminine man who her friends thought was gay and talked shit about their relationship all the time.


*Yeah, I know this means I’m narcissistic.

If you play your cards right, one should only be married four to five times… MAX. 😉 But what if you pick wrong and end up sexless and laughed at behind your back your entire life cause your gaydar leaned a little too far to the left and you walked down the aisle to Liza Minnelli instead of pomp and circumstance and you were ecstatic he was just a little metro sexual… or European?


There are several plusses, however, if you end up with a gay like… like I’m sure they ‘re good at laundry and helping you decide what to wear and what tile to use for your remodeled bathroom. But in the current generation where sexual preference is something you have to specifically choose to come out of the closet with and not come out straight out of the vagina with your declaration of fabulousness,  how, as single women who appreciate the finer things in life, ensure that we are picking the right penises for our team?

And how do we not have a mental meltdown during the process?

Cursed From the First.

5 Oct

When it comes to dating and being single these days, the road is a rocky one. Full of lack of effort, lack of respect, and a series of trainwreck ends that would put any Grey’s Anatomy story line to shame. Though there may not be pieces of wall through the abodem, severed legs, or lightbulbs lodged in a brain that was unknowingly suffering from Alzheimer’s, there are still scars left when the all-too-familiar story of relationships go awry. Though hearts are strong and can handle much bullshit (I know this for a fact), the effects can be long-lasting and sometimes the scars never heal.

Even just one love blow can have life-long side effects.

So when someone comes along that doesn’t want to cut your heart out, chew it up, and then find a more “meaningful situation” 5 seconds later; how is a victim of constant love-torture supposed to take it with a straight face?

When someone who wants to date you, presents you with a confident, sincere, and respectful version of what you’ve only seen in the movies; how does one not just slap their face, pour a bucket of ice water over themselves, and run screaming away because they are 1) DEFINITELY imagining things, 2) they are DEFINITELY on their way to 100% crazy, 3) they’re definitely thinking this one is the same… it’s just gonna hurt worse, and 4) it’s definitely Alzheimer’s.

It’s like the Hunger Games but WAYYY too many players to watch out for, and way too few bows and arrows.

Ok, their (me. I mean me.) brains might need a literal lightbulb to the head.

When someone actually has their shit together, knows what they want, aren’t scared of feelings, and are actually a good person, I can’t help but continually peer over my shoulder waiting for the other shoe (most likely an iron-toed workboot in a male size 18) to drop and put me into a heartbreak coma.

Yeah, this means that I’m crazy and cannot deal with what I don’t know (Which is assholes. ALL assholes). However, perhaps dealing with assholes ISN’T normal, and a respectful man is just that.. a man. Not a boy. And THAT  is normal.

Either way normal is completely subjective to each person.

AND a good solid helmut is always a good idea.

“All the Boys to the Yard”

24 Sep

So what is up with the age-old expression of “when it rains, it pours?”

It’s freaking true… and it’s drrrrrriving me nuts.

I’ll spend 9 months sitting on my couch eating Cheezits  and whipped cream out of the can,  crying into my Facebook wondering if this so-called person they call “cupid” is real and whether or not I should write a literature review on the very significant reason he DOESN’T have a soul and BAM!… out of nowhere comes dudes crawling out of the woodwork.

Like all of a sudden I’ve found my fairy godmother and her food stamps ran out and she got forced off unemployment.


And as soon as it came, being entertained on an hourly basis is ripped from under me and all of a sudden instead of having someone to help open the wine for me, I find myself just smashing the top off hoping I don’t die from glass shards in between sobs. Ok maybe too much… I have my thirties for those shenanigans (It’s the little things in life to look forward to).

Perhaps it’s like a thing where women cycle on a yearly basis and men can smell out desperation. Or perhaps it’s the fact that as a single woman you can only take so much and you give up on men, completely morphing into an awesome replica of Angelina Jolie in Wanted and the boys just can’t take your badassness and must have more (or are scared of taking a bullet through the head on a hormone fueled angry woman-on-the-edge-rampage). Or perhaps it’s just freaking ANNOYING.

I don’t need 10 million dates in one week. Pressure like that will make any woman keel over and pull the blanket over her head, claiming limerance (my smart friend taught me that word… it’s a real thing.). I’m not looking for an okcupid kind of time. You know where creepy first dates abound and hysteria ensues with naked pizza eating at midnight after your “free meal of torture” I don’t know this from personal experience, oooofff cooooouuuurse.

I would just like a date maybe once every 6 weeks to three months to keep me wanting… to live.

This over kill and then drought (which conveniently comes during wedding season, the holidays, and when I’m feeling fat and ugly) is messing with my head. I’ve started wanting to do my own blood and hormone tests to see what’s different, or keep a food diary of the types of potato chips I’m eating… I must be sweating bar-be-que Lays this week which is why all the boys are “coming to my yard.”

The bigger issue, though, is how is it that at 27  with my shit in a pretty neat pile am I still validated by the fact that boys “think I’m pretty and want to date me?” In the last 6 months I’ve JUST decided I might want to date me… and maybe have REAL goals… and MAYBE want to GET IT TOGETHER (haha just kidding)…oh wait… maybe that’s it.


Nah, it’s definitely the potato chip sweat.

When did watching something die become romance?

12 Sep

ImageSo call me jealous.

Call me crazy.

Call me maybe? (I deserve to be put down for that)

Call me whatever you want.

Just say it behind my back, please.

My new roommate seems to have magical ways with the men that are blowing my mind and getting me to thinking (yeah, I’m thinking, now IS the time to panic.)..It may be that the guys are all real young and desperate… or drunk (see previous post) OOOOR it may be her Swedish accent…whhhhooooo could ever know?!?… either way the girl is pulling in a plethora of arrangements from “gentleman callers.”

As each day passes with a new bouquet, I started to wonder when did flowers become a thing to show affection??

Think about this realistically.

You are KILLING something to WATCH IT DIE.

You could just save your $20 dollars and leave nature in all its beauty and glory and wonder and… too much??


I was there once… young and thinking that the only way I thought I would discover affection was through foliage and gold and jewels. (Silly, silly Lauren)

Don’t get me wrong… I’m still on the jewelry train. Now and forever and ever and ever and ever and ever and ever and……………….

But flowers are so overpriced and so useless and depressing. In three days they will be a dried up memory.

Most the times the arrangments are ugly anyways…depends on the grocery store or gas station of choice of course 😉 Plus, the dude has a 10% chance AT BEST of nailing the specific females’ flower, color, arrangement, scent, size, and vase of choice. Not the best odds. Personally, I don’t know ANY names of flowers but roses…………. and ummmmmmm tulips are a thing right? I can’t imagine what a man is thinking in the flower section. I bet they sweat alot and just give up, cover their eyes, and point. Seems legit.

However, I have had LOTS of conversations with other girls discerning the meaning of each type of flower and what their names are and what family they belong to and what event they are most suited for and what color and what size and when they come in season… and I definitely blacked it all out. Best. Skill. Ever.

When as women was this expected as a sign of admiration? Or when as men did this become a go-to idea?

Why can’t useful things be the new token of affection?

It IS 2012 and the new Iphone5 is out. Come on people, we should be updating our relationship habits with the times.

Like maybe show up to the door with a favorite DVD (you can get those for $5..and they last FFFFORREEVVEERRR… can you say S-T-E-A-L?), or tickets to a show, or pre-bought candy to sneak into the redicuously overpriced movie theatre, or booze is ALWAYS appropriate, or I’m in school… I can always use a USB (just make sure it’s pink and sparkly, DUH)… put some funny pictures on it or burn some music, or I mean…

Just hand me a $20 bill instead of flowers and the gifts just Keep. On. Giving. amiright??? This girl can always use a tank of gas and I’ll think of you every mile of the way. 🙂

One Question: Do you have one? And how many? And where is the nearest Chili’s? Ok that’s three questions.

11 Sep


So It has been a while. My bad. But I’m back… for now.

I am now settled and being productive… in hell… aka middle America… and don’t worry, it IS as terrible as it sounds.

However, one thing that comes with living in a college town, specifically one in the middle of nowhere (it’s like they dug this hole and let 20,000 hormone ridden zombies loose because that was the only sensible place to contain them all where they couldn’t hurt…anything but cows and corn) is the fact that the men are boys, and there is no way to escape them.


Little 18 year olds with huge egos and a lack of alcohol poisoning knowledge. Every Thursday- Friday it’s like WWIII and they start dropping like flies at 9 pm being carried out like wounded soldiers by their equally inebriated friends… “I’m ready to Paaaarrrrrtttyyyyyyyyy”. (Figure out how to hold your liquor or just stay home children. Hasn’t anyone heard of a rally puke?? 😉 GET IT TOGETHER!!)

The one good thing about being surrounded by teenagers is that they are too dumb to realize that you,  in fact, are not a teenager yourself (every time I get mistaken for 19… yeah that’s years-old… I can’t help blushing and wanting to laugh hysterically while simultaneously pinching their cheeks…they’re just so adddoorrraaabbbllleee) thus leading to being constantly carded for dates that one should NEVER go on anyways…The worst date I ever went on was to Chili’s where the man of the hour used his hands to shovel sour cream onto his tacos.

I was 18.

At 27 I would have shrieked and ran and taken at least 15 scalding hot showers and a minimum of 5 sessions of therapy.

Been there. Done that.

I digress.

Besides finding the fountain of youth in idiocy I have also discovered a growing trend that perhaps needs to be a new question box on Match. com. “Do you have any DWI’s?” And even more important “HOW MANY?!?!”

The first question holds a good chance that about 60% polled are going to have a DWI…depends where you are hanging out I would assume.

The second question… hold your breath and get your running shoes laced.

This DWI epidemic is an increasing problem in the single world, and when a female realizes that she either needs to dress appropriately for bike pegs,  drive to pick up her date herself, or just stay home and eat like Jared before he found Subway, the romance seems to go straight out the window.

When did this become a thing to worry about??

And it’s not just dudes, girls have them too.

Is it because we all hate our lives in this politically and economically toxic situation we find ourselves in, or are we seeing a generation come about that thinks the rules perhaps don’t apply to them and that they are so entitled to never get caught?

Either way, just keep arguing that I’m not 27 but 19 boys… and I’ll meet you at any Chili’s you want.

A Novel Has Lots of Chapters.

9 Aug

We all missed the boat. Dammit.

The older I get… I am after all almost 27… Ancienttttt… The more I view this life as a novel and our roles in it…. especially with love…. as chapters.

As independent females we are seeing a shift in what once was an age of one-marriage-for-life-to-ultimately-death that has been replaced with a focus on careers, “working on ourselves,” living in our parents basements until 30+, and a lack of interest in children and settling down. We no longer live by the mantra that marriage or a life-long partnership is a necessity. It is an option. We can support ourselves and have almost dominated the arena of A-sexuality. Sperm donor anyone? I think our love lives are no longer a one chapter story, but multiple chapters in which the further we get through the chapters the BETTER the story. There is also a greater freedom to control the plot, the guts to say no, and the false notion that there is something known as “better” in the dating world (PS there isn’t… we should have all married our first grade crushes that sniffed glue and pinched us on the playground… it’s all downhill from there… 7 year olds UNITE!)

Let’s all admit that first love, like the first chapter in a book, is the absolute hardest to get through, oftentimes when we look back also the most boring, however, the most important to lay the groundwork for what is to come. In first love we learn things about what we like, what we are looking for, more about who we are ourselves, and learn about the loss of naevity in love.  We identify with love. In the first chapter one thinks “This book SUCKS!! I quit! Stoooppp talking pppllleeaassseee!” but perhaps in this age we aren’t necessarily going to have one chapter in love, like maybe our parents or grandparents did. People get married and now we know how the story ends. Instead, I think there is a new wave of shelf-life romances in which each is highly significant, but due to the fact that we are all growing in our own independent endeavors we aren’t necessarily growing together, which is what leads to separations and divorces.

People today are looking out for themselves and it is okay to be single, to have fun, and to prolong settling down. Maybe marriage isn’t the answer. Maybe how it always has been, isn’t how it is going to work NOW. Maybe it is just about LOVE. We are individually continuing our own stories , and by having those long-term commitments and quick trysts that eventually all end, we are really just making our stories more interesting, creating a novel of experience, and furthering our quest for independence.

Perhaps it’s time to stop looking for forever and instead start looking at what is happening in front of us, and how this is going to impact the rest of story for the best, or sometimes just for the experience of the lesson of love.

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