Special Offer

Went through my mailbox...a pile of junk mail. Nothing unusual. Credit card offer, toss. Mailing labels, toss. Another credit card, toss. Special offer for--wait, what?

"Preferred Savings Form. In order to guarantee that we reach the audience we are meant to serve, the Publisher is offering The World of Cross Stitching magazine to a selected few at over 65% off the cover price."

So...I'm...the audience The World of Cross Stitching is meant to serve...?

What? Is this related to my surprise subscription to Vogue? Or is it because I'm now IN my 30s? Do they know I'm a cat lady without cats? (...so far.) I mean, I won't lie to you--I have done cross stitching within the last year. But how do they know? It's not like I'm on amazon buying pattern books all day. Did I trip some weird hobby signal? Does World of Cross Stitching just know? Do you think they employ a cross stitching psychic? WHY DID I GET THIS OFFER?

Guys. I can't. I'm buying cats.

Mysteries

If you'd like to know why I disappeared for a thousand years (you noticed, right?), you can blame all the committees and boards I volunteered to join. You guys, I realized I don't have any hobbies because I sit on conference calls and task forces in my free time. (It's not sad. Shut up.) I'm going to start scheduling time for blog posts so I don't overbook myself.

ANYWAY, I didn't come here today to talk about my schedule. I'm here because there are three things that have me absolutely baffled, so naturally I turn to you. Your insight would be welcome, should you have any. In no particular order...

1. This November, I opened my mailbox to an issue of Vogue. Prepared to make the snowy trek to a neighbor's house to deliver their misplaced mail, I checked the address label. Me. My house.

Hmm. I did not subscribe to Vogue. I flipped through it and put it aside, convinced it was a weird glitch or one of those targeted campaigns where you get a couple issues of something but it's not really a subscription? And then another issue arrived in December. And January. I don't dislike Vogue, but I don't subscribe to any magazines. (Except, apparently, Vogue.) I'm confident I didn't do this. I logged onto the website with my subscription number and was rather surprised to find that I'm paid up for a year.

Did I drunkenly sign up for this? Or was I sleep shopping? I went and checked all my accounts--bank statement, credit card. I went back months. I investigated anything that wasn't explicitly labeled Target or Kroger or a coffee shop, to be sure. (Don't judge me, internet.) I looked at orders from other places to make sure I didn't sign up accidentally. I asked facebook, hoping a friend would say, "Oh, you got my gift!" Nothing.

Internet, I have no idea how I came into this Vogue subscription. It is still coming, and I suspect it will arrive until October. In the meantime, at least I'm set when I have a flight to catch. Who's saving $5 per trip? This girl. 

2. I bought a purse. I needed a new clutch to take to weddings and fancy events and yes, I know what you're thinking--you go to shitloads of weddings, Amanda. Are you telling us you don't have one of those by now? No. That's not what I'm saying. I have several, but I bought most of them in my flip phone era--and none of them hold my smart phone. I've been slowly upgrading.

It was no problem. I found a lovely gold one at Target, big enough for my phone and a wedding favor and even a flask, if necessary. A tag boasted "detachable crossbody strap"! 

Y'all. 

This is not a detachable crossbody strap. Ok...I guess technically it is. I can wear it across my body, assuming I like deodorant and sweat all over my purse. And sure, the strap is detachable--it's just not going to reattach easily. 

Who added that tag and do they still have a job?

3. I ordered Victoria's Secret online and when it arrived...I was disappointed. It should have fit a certain way and I was so, so wrong. The next day, I tried it on again, convinced that I had put it on wrong or something. Can you put on underwear wrong at 30 years old? Does that happen? Worth a shot, right?

 Nope, still not a good fit. And then I noticed the tag--a size smaller than I ordered. 

I berated myself for being an idiot, and pulled up my order confirmation email. Nope, I ordered the correct size. I checked the invoice--wrong size listed. So there must have been a--wait a second.

That name and address are not me. 

Ok. VS sent my order to a random in New Jersey and their order to me. Great taste, you one-size-smaller bitch in New Jersey, but what the fuck? I was not pleased--maybe you saw my tweets. I mean, who wants their underwear shipped to a stranger, along with their name and address?? I emailed their customer service department and heard back quickly. A replacement order arrived 36 hours later. 

I assumed we were all set. Until I got a letter in the mail, a couple weeks later, from Victoria's Secret. Addressed to RESIDENT. I shit you not. 

Dear RESIDENT, 

We fucked up--can you help?

NOPE. First of all, you have my name on file, VS. Seriously. Second of all, YOU ALREADY DEALT WITH THIS. I mean, I'm still irritated that my shit went somewhere else, but you did in fact handle the situation. I returned the missent items the next day. We reversed the Parent Trap. Things are good. A horrible letter to RESIDENT (my mom opened that, thanks) does not help anyone. How did this happen? 

Help me understand, internet. 

a little trip to iceland

Friends, I went to Iceland recently. When the phone rings and your friend says, "I found a Groupon for a trip to Iceland and I think we should go,"...you say yes. You call your currency guy and pack lots of warm clothes and go to Reykjavik. 

How to make the most of your little trip to Iceland: 

Get cozy on the plane with a blanket and Icelandic lullaby. 

Marvel at the difference between Best Western in Iceland and in the US.

Learn some Chuck Norris facts at the Chuck Norris Bar & Grill. Naturally.

Decide on a hashtag for the trip. #alittletriptoiceland

Go to The Icelandic Phallological Museum. Learn that the 2008 Olympic silver medal handball team was honored for their contribution to Icelandic pride.

I GET IT REYKJAVIK YOU'RE GORGEOUS.

Check out the geysers.

Everyone is taking a selfie at this spot so jump on the bandwagon?

Suffer way too much cold, wind, and rain but damn, that view.

Ah, traveling outside the US has some perks. 

Go to the Big Lebowski themed bar (OF COURSE THERE IS) and try the local beverages.

Take an accidental photo of your carry on luggage.

Say hello to Greenland.

Take an unexpected detour to Pittsburgh instead of your planned detour through Boston. (You're on my list, JFK*.)

*The airport, not the president. 

The Worst Kind of People

Forgive my absence, friends. I have been brimming with anger for well over a week now, but I have also been fiercely battling a full calendar. 

I ventured into public on Valentine's Day. I realize this might be viewed as a rookie mistake, but it was in the pursuit of brunch! And for a breakfast cocktail, I will brave most of the elements, including the arctic temperatures, howling wind, and myriad couples that plagued Detroit on February 14th. 

Brunch was surprisingly free of PDA--way to go, fellow diners. (And if you're in the Detroit area, I seriously recommend Selden Standard--I've had both brunch and dinner there and it's fantastic.) But then...things took a turn. I went to the Detroit Institute of Arts, fully expecting to be assaulted by couples having a romantic afternoon, gross. And while yes, that did happen and it was gross, there was a definite high point and low point to the visit. 

The DIA itself was excellent as usual. They were doing this really cool activity--they gave all the guests a red foam heart and asked them to place it in front of their favorite piece of art. It was awesome to walk around and see where everyone left them. 

A heartbroken museum-goer expressing their feelings? No, just an undecided museum patron. We found the other half later in front of another piece of art. Two favorites--that's fine. I felt better--because sure, hate on love...but who could hate art? 


You know what I could definitely hate? The terrible event that I encountered next.

A wedding. A WEDDING. 

I wandered over to the Rivera frescoes and had to stop because there was a goddamn wedding party taking pictures! IN THE MIDDLE OF THE ROOM. In the middle of the afternoon on a Valentine's Day Saturday! The museum was crazy busy and the Rivera room is arguably one of the most popular spots at the DIA and this bridal party is taking picture after picture after picture, right there, because they're the most important people in the world. They were lucky I was content from brunch, because that was basically the only thing stopping me from jumping in some bridal party portraits. Selfie with the bride? Almost happened. 

After my initial rage passed, I was struck by another thought, perhaps even more irritating than blocking a museum for your pictures. 

They got married on Valentine's Day. I mean...seriously? Somewhere, there were dozens* of dressed up people waiting for the reception to start! ON VALENTINE'S DAY. Now, the holiday is not important to me, and I would be very likely to schedule a root canal on February 14th without batting an eye. But some people, God knows why, actually like to celebrate Valentine's Day. It's not exactly a secret underground holiday. It's pretty publicized. How selfish do you have to be to decide that your love is such a special unique snowflake, that you're not only going to be the center of your spouse's attention that day, but all the important people in your life? Sorry friends, family, loved ones...your love is great and all but today is about me and MY relationship! A Valentine's Day anniversary, how original. 

(And, on top of all that, you've now combined present holidays! Anniversary gift? Valentine's Day gift? You only get one now, sorry.) 

UGH IT WAS THE WORST. It's one thing giving up a weekend for a wedding, but a holiday weekend? SELFISH AND UNORIGINAL.




*Speculation. 

I'm trying to help you.

Valentine's Day is this weekend. 

Yes it is the worst.

Looks like I'm headed right, then. 

I know some of you celebrate the holiday, though. It is, after all, an obligation holiday. And no matter how casual or young your relationship might be, it feels like a dick move to ignore Valentine's Day. Because you're not dicks (at least, not all of you), many of you will end up browsing for a greeting card that expresses the perfect sentiment sometime in the next few days. And because I care about you**, I decided to check out the selection while I was shopping, in hopes of giving you some suggestions. 

Yikes. Guys, it's real rough. Every single card I picked up featured the L word. They're all predictably sappy and wordy and WE GET IT YOU'RE IN LOVE, but at least I expected that garbage. But they're alllllllll about love. And I realized that a lot of you can't give that to your partner, for various reasons. Mainly, that you haven't said that yet or that you don't mean it anymore. So...two reasons. But those are two big reasons! And you can't very well get a card shouting the L word in those situations! What's a Valentine shopper to do?!

Chill out--I've got your back. Knowing that commercial greeting cards seldom cover the range of emotions the average shopper is looking to express, I've created a line of cards you can use. I think they cover the ground missed by Hallmark and their competitors. I hope you'll find them useful. They're suitable for printing or texting. 

Enjoy!

**sort of. 

Single Women and Single Men

Did I ever tell you I work in a library now? After I quit teaching, I switched gears a little and now I'm in a library. It's pretty great, even if middle aged men call me honey a little too often and I hadn't realized how attached baby boomers are to Internet Explorer. 

Working in a library has been cool for finding new books, though, that is for sure. (Like the Love Birds book.) I found a couple books recently that I thought you all might appreciate. 

The first is Are You My Boyfriend? by C.B. Bryza. It's an adorable and relevant parody of Are You My Mother? and it's fantastic. I liked it, even though --spoiler alert-- it gets a little sappy at the end. Considering how often we talk about "is this a date?" around here, I had to read it. The single main character wanders around, posing the title question to all the men she encounters. 

Picture books for grown ups. Yes please. 

The second book is Haiku for the Single Girl by Beth Griffenhagen. I cried laughing. I would like to tell you about my favorite but I had at least a dozen. Just read it. I assure you, you'll find your spirit haiku. 

I've been pondering these books for a few days. (I'll admit that like, 10% of it is why can't I accomplish something kickass like that?) This pondering is not about the trials and tribulations attached to singledom. I consider that plenty, thanks. 

Friends send me all kinds of self-help relationship books**, websites and blogs, and personal anecdotes, so I am positive that women struggle to find a decent, available, adult man.  (Women who are seeking men, that is. I I haven't heard much from women looking for a decent, available, adult woman, so I won't speak to that here.) We rant about it with our friends, joke about it on sitcoms, cry about it in the shower, drink about it at family gatherings...single women looking for love is an industry. Look at the books I checked out from the library. Sure, there are plenty of women who are content being single, and plenty who enjoy casual dating without the dreaded emotions that come along with relationships. But some women are seriously unhappy with their search for Mr. Tolerable. 

So fine. There are sad, lonely women out there, waiting for the romantic comedy portion of their lives to come to a conclusion. I get it. We all get it. So...what about the dudes? I have fewer male followers on twitter and facebook, and fewer male blog commenters, so I assume fewer male readers. And I suppose that makes sense...it probably has a no boys allowed clubhouse feel around here sometimes, since I do so often complain about men. (STOP ACTING FOOLISH AND I WILL STOP COMPLAINING ABOUT YOU ALL THE TIME.) But let's be real--men are single too. At least, I'm guessing some of you are still single, even though I only seem to meet the married ones. Yet we seldom hear about your quest for love. 

Are you not miserable in your search? Is it easier for you to find decent women? Are you suffering in silence or not suffering at all? Are you consuming books and movies and sitcom moments where men commiserate and wish for nice women to come along but keeping them from us? TELL ME. Because I don't come across a lot of books for men trying to be better at relationships. I don't get many letters from men asking why women are so confusing. Am I truly supposed to believe that for every miserable woman trying to get a nice man to ask her to dinner, there is a contented bachelor hoping he can sneak out of her apartment before she wakes up, as television and movies have shown? 

I want answers. 

**I have an alarming number of self-help relationship books, guys. AND I LOVE THEM.

Here's to the new year.

Some of you may recall that despite some fun adventures, 2013 was not my best year. I had high hopes for 2014. 

And let me tell you--2014 delivered. I started a new job and was promoted shortly after. And I'm really enjoying it. Like, I had forgotten what it was like to enjoy your job without waking up in the middle of the night convinced it was time to get up and eat breakfast or take a shower before your twin tells you that no, you have like 4 hours left to sleep and please go back to bed. I don't miss that sort of job stress. 

I had a lot of fun adventures. including five days in Guatemala and a trip to Disney World to cheer on my BFF. I hung out in Pittsburgh and Washington DC and Boston and Smith College and Dallas and Maine and Bloomington and a shocking number of places in Ohio. I'm really grateful I have the kind of job and family that are very understanding of my desire to leave all the time. 

I only went to three weddings. This is huge. SUCH an improvement over last year's five. I mean, the 2015 invitations and engagement announcements are already pouring in, but at least last year was light. Also,I only got tricked into one bouquet toss--and that was through an inappropriate use of Beyonce so really I can't be blamed. 

There were babies! AND NOT MINE, which is also a huge win for 2014. Two wonderful friends and my nephew all had babies this year and I'm mapping out strategies for taking the Best Aunt title. (Unrelated question: what's the age where it stops being weird and inappropriate to buy alcohol for minors and becomes a cool thing to do? Nevermind, I definitely have at least a couple years to figure it out.)

Lots of family members are getting engaged or married or having babies, and while this is by itself is not necessarily exciting for me, it means that they have the attention of all the aunts--who are therefore NOT ASKING ME when I'm getting married. 

My boyfriend didn't break up with me by ignoring me! Hooray! This is totally a win for 2014 AND YES THAT IS NOW PART OF THE CRITERIA. One thing is for sure here, and that is that standards were a little lower at the onset of 2014. Things like, did I cry in the shower every day or just occasionally? became important indicators. 

Yes, 2014 was pretty great. And I have high hopes for 2015. Why is that? Because it's already January 6th and I haven't cried in the shower ONCE. 

BREAKING: Terrible Marriage News

Here's some shitty news about marriage. 

No, I'm not talking about the divorce rate. This is much worse than that. I'm talking about remarriage. Some study found that 40% of marrying couples have at least one spouse who has already been married. FORTY PERCENT*. And apparently, it's becoming increasingly common for those 55 and older to get remarried. 

DO YOU KNOW WHAT THIS MEANS? MORE WEDDINGS. I hadn't even considered SECOND marriages yet! I'm still deciding if I want chicken or fish at your FIRST round of weddings! But ohhhh no, it's not over when I'm the last single one standing! Then I'll have to console you over your divorces, which I'm sure will suck and I'm sorry about your emotional roller coaster, etc. But then you jerks will fall in love AGAIN and have ANOTHER wedding and you'll send me ANOTHER save the date and WHEN WILL THE CYCLE END? And on top of that, it seems you'll be continuing to plan weddings well into your 60s so I'll be attending weddings until the end of time. 

I can tell you one thing, friends. I'm not fucking around at your second weddings. It will be my opportunity to fix all the mistakes I made at your first wedding. I'm wearing my converse. I'm snapchatting and tweeting everything---for your scrapbook or whatever. I'm bringing a onesie to wear on the dance floor. I'm appointing myself flower girl. Oh, your daughter is the flower girl? Fine: HEAD flower girl. I'm choosing my own seat. I'm sneaking drinks to the slightly underaged children from your first marriages. I'm not getting up for the fucking bouquet toss, even if you call me out. (IT WILL ONLY BE ME ANYWAY, JUST HAND ME THE FLOWERS.) I am coming to party. And since I'll be the only single human in attendance, I don't care about impressing your groomsmen. (But if any of them are divorced please shoot me an email in advance. Be a doll.) 

You better hope your first marriages work out, friends. 

I'm not making a scene, you're making a scene.

Good news: this article got me on Huffington Post's radar and they keep asking me to sign up for their divorce newsletter. So...there's that. 

*I found it on Huffington Post, guys, so I have no idea how they conducted the study or who they polled. Just go with my righteous indignation here. FORTY PERCENT. 

Not your typical Thanksgiving post.

This has been sitting in my drafts for weeks. I come back to it frequently, but my words are always a tangle. I want to edit it and finish it all the time. Last night I decided that perhaps my words on this issue will never untangle, but that I might feel better if I just post the damn thing. 


I'm not here to list all the things I'm thankful for this holiday season. Because honestly, there are a lot. I'm a lucky woman with a pretty awesome life. But that's not what I'm here to say. 

Not in this moment. In this moment...I am sad. I am sad in a way that cannot be expressed. I am sad and frustrated and angry in the pit of my stomach and it radiates outward to my whole being. I look at the world around me, and know that we can do better.

Earlier this month, I spent a day at the hospital while my niece came into the world. It was 11 hours in a hospital waiting room and even though that sounds uncomfortable and boring, it was one of the best days I've had in a long time. I spent it with my family and everyone was full of joy and we didn't argue once and yeah, that's something of an accomplishment. She was born into a beautiful, loving, strange, wonderful family. I adore her; she's perfect. I made a collage for the background of my phone, of her and the other babies in my life. And it probably looks weird; I probably seem like I'm one step away from building a house of candy in the woods somewhere. But I look at them, the children of family and friends--these pieces of my heart--and I want them to be safe. I want to know that when they grow up it will be in a world that's just and kind and supportive. I want more for them than what we've cultivated.

I come here and rant about my ex boyfriends and I whine about being single and we joke about my fear of commitment and yes, it can get a little bit angry. It's all true...my love life is abysmal and I have dated some dickheads, but honestly, I believe in kindness and treating people with respect. (Sorry if that shatters any illusions for you, but please know that I will always complain about my exes and being reprimanded for forgetting to flush** when I got up to pee in the middle of the night. I remain terrible at dating. Rest easy.)

We're not doing a good enough job. We treat people who are different from us like shit and we treat a lot of people who aren't different at all like shit and we treat the world around us like shit and in the end...a lot of us treat each other badly, far too often. The sadness and anger I'm feeling threaten to become toxic. I worry that if it stays too long it will infect everything good in my life. I have the same worry for everyone I hear crying out that things have to change. So we need to try. We need to find ways to love each other and fix what's broken. We need to help each other figure it all out and try to understand each other and lift each other up instead of stepping on each other. We have to try. I know that's a very broad, sweeping, naive, privileged way of looking at it...but it's a start, right? It's all I have in this moment, besides sadness and anger and frustration--and I'd rather not pass those along. 


We need to do better. I have a tiny niece who deserves better from this world. 



**Yes that happened. It was just pee--it's not like he had to face a tampon in the morning. SORRY I'M NOT AT MY BEST AT 3AM, YOUR HIGHNESS. Put on your big boy pants and flush it your damn self. 

Casual Weekend in Guatemala

I just spent five days in Guatemala, for a wedding. As you do. At least a third of the guests were American, most of the rest were Guatemalan, and there were a handful of internationals. (I spent the rehearsal dinner with a Colombian, a Czech, and a German.) It was one big, awesome adventure. However, I arrived home exhausted. Blogging was lower on my priority list than sleep and laundry and getting to work on time. So now that I've recovered, let's review the highlights:

I was reunited with friends I haven't seen in six years. They're amazing people. It's funny how six years felt like nothing, as if we'd been apart just a few days. I've said it before, but my friends are truly the most remarkable thing in my life. I don't deserve them. I also made some new friends. The universe put me in the right place, ok? 

I stayed at this fantastic hotel. 

Just, you know, stepping stones over a pond to get to my room. Whatever.

My friend has a great new husband, even if they tricked us to do the bouquet toss--using Beyonce! I felt so betrayed. 

Coffee, dancing, drinks, way too much food because they fed us really well, and handsome Guatemalan men. 

Yes, I know--my weekend was better than yours. 

During all the wedding events, we had some conversations about wedding customs in different places. It was rather fascinating, since you know I've become a bit of a wedding connoisseur. One thing that I love is a German tradition called Polterabend. On the night before the wedding, friends of the couple come over and eat and hang out, then they smash porcelain on the ground! Plates, cups, sinks, toilets, whatever. They smash it. And make a loud mess! And it's supposed to bring luck? And then the couple has to clean it up and that's some kind of bonding experience about all the shit they'll have to clean up together in their lives. That part sounds less fun, but the smashing! Sounds great! 

Just throwing out the idea in case any of my many engaged friends want to consider it. I'm totally ready to break shit, In honor of your love. Or whatever. 

On a serious note.

Alright guys, Real Talk. 

I've seen a lot of articles floating around lately about the terrible lesson we're teaching men by constantly turning them down by saying we have boyfriends. And I have concerns. 

We're talking about men who hit on you and only back down when you say you're in a relationship--because it can't possibly be something to do with them, but simply that you're taken. First of all, yes I think it's atrocious that a significant other, either real or imagined on the spot, is the only thing that will stop some men from hitting on you. I also think it says something terribly unflattering about those guys--that they don't respect you and your no thanks, but they will respect whatever guy you tell them you're dating. It's awful. Ok? 

So what I keep reading is that we as women should stop playing into this and making up boyfriends or husbands or girlfriends or anybody at all. We should teach this lesson that our no should be just as powerful as our no I'm in a relationship. We should change the culture around being hit on and let these men learn to deal with a little rejection. I'm all for that. 

In theory. I want to be a part of this movement. I want to help now, because I don't want the toddlers in my life to be in their 20s and still making up big, muscular, jealous boyfriends just because they don't want to dance with some random. But the practice of this is a little less...practical. For me, anyway. And maybe for you too. 

There are times when I'm happy to stand behind my no just because I'm not interested, and not feel this pressure to lie to a grown man who can't take a little bruise to his ego. Then...then there are times when a big, tall guy wraps his arms around me to ask if he can take me out. And I assess the situation, trying not to panic. In that situation, I'm not about teaching anybody any lesson. I'm about getting out of the situation and back to my friends. I'm about taking care of myself. So if, in those situations or anything remotely similar, I think that the quickest way out is to say I have a boyfriend, then I will absolutely do it. Every single time.

Because it's a good lesson to teach. And I'm all for doing my part. But it's just that--part. We can't be expected to do all the work. And we can't be expected to feel unsafe while we do it. 

Flying Solo

I've never lived alone. I've always had family or roommates or a dozen other summer camp counselors. The closest I've ever gotten was living in a single room in my dorm in college. (Mere feet away from dozens of friends.) So when I agreed to house and dog sit recently, I knew it would be a whole new world.

It was eye-opening. Here are some things I learned about myself:

1. Some of my standards are lower than I thought. I only flush the toilet when it's necessary or when I'm entertaining guests. (On the plus side, I know how and when to clean.) Is this gross? Maybe. But at least it's earth-friendly. And yesterday I wanted to take a nap. I arrived home from work to a bed covered in books, my laptop, and laundry baskets full of clothes I washed last week and didn't bother to fold. I looked at that and thought, hey I can take this nap if I move everything. Then I imagined myself taking the time to do that and thought again. I napped on the floor directly next to my bed. I didn't even consider moving to another room to find a couch. I would make the same decision over again. 

2. I really want a dog.*

3. I am not shy. Ask how many doors I closed during those ten days.**

4. If I could get all my exercise via solo dance parties, I would be much, much happier. I pretty much dance partied around that house every day, despite my dog friend not giving a shit. Sorry not sorry neighbors.

5. I talk to myself, out loud, all the damn time.

6. I may not know how to use every corkscrew I come across, but I'll figure it out. Because I'm highly motivated. 

Way more complicated than it looks. 

7. Did I mention I want a dog?

*Not a new discovery but still worth noting.
**If you guessed 1-3 and only when other people were in the house, you'd be correct. 

Learning my "love type"...

When I discovered Lovebirds by Trevor Silvester at work, I knew I had to read it. Written by a couples therapist/bird watcher, it promised to identify my love type from a set of birds--AND how to live with me. I mean, come on. I NEED to know my lovebird. Need. Must know. I didn't even know that "love types" were a thing. 

And so I shamelessly checked it out from the local library. Yes, people I know at the checkout desk, I AM reading self-help relationship books. FOR RESEARCH AND SCIENCE AND STUFF. 

We got off on the wrong foot when Silvester states, on the first page of the introduction, that I'm not so much living a life as a slow, painful pre-death coma. 
"If you live in a supportive, loving state of intimacy you live longer, healthier, happier, and more successful lives." How dare you, sir. 

Things improved a bit on page 13 where the author says the first stages of a relationship actually make you a little crazy, since your body is going insane with love chemicals*. (See? SCIENCE.) So he basically says people in love are nuts, which I can totally see. It's something I've been saying for years. 

I took the quizzes to learn my lovebird, which I'm a little disappointed to report feels a bit Myers-Briggs-esque. Not because I'm against the Myers-Briggs, or because it was poorly done, but because I was hoping for more straight up bird behavior comparisons. ("Peacocks look gorgeous but if you approach them too quickly at the zoo they'll go apeshit and make scary noises until you run away. Sound familiar?") I wasn't disappointed enough to stop reading the book though. I told you, I had to know my lovebird. 

The good news is that my prediction was wrong--I'm not a crow. (Loud, obnoxious, and who really wants them hanging around for very long?)

I'm an Owl/Dove. (Owl is my first one, but Dove was two points behind, in which case the author recommends reading both profiles. Here's a cool fun fact: I'm a rare bird. No, really. Apparently I'm not a common combination? LIKE YOU DIDN'T ALREADY KNOW THAT. 

So, I'm an Owl/Dove. I didn't even have to read the profiles to know that makes sense. Think about it. Owls are a symbol of wisdom and they have an outstanding Resting Bitch Face. Doves are symbols of peace who are forced to attend a lot of weddings and flee the scene as soon as they're allowed. Sound like anyone you know? 

(I actually thought the profiles for my types were pretty on point. Particularly the Owl part. In particular...
"Owls spend a lot of time talking to themselves." Accurate.
And the best possible analysis. "And then there's the foreign world of emotions." 
Additionally, Doves need puppies. "A lack of physical contact will leave them feeling lonely and they'll often have a pet to provide a source of affection." The author is telling me to adopt a pack of dogs. You're getting that vibe too, right? Trevor Silvester, I was a little skeptical, but it is clear that you get me.)

The cool part about reading this book if you're single is that a good portion of it is dedicated to how to handle relationships for every bird combination. Since I'm perpetually alone, I skipped this part and finished the book in like 45 minutes. New record! 

If you're curious, you can take the lovebirds quiz--let me know what you get! 

*Technical term. 

Friends with Exes

You know that period after a breakup, where you fantasize about various situations where you run into your ex, and finally get to tell them off or get your revenge or whatever? (One of my more elaborate ones involved me actually suggesting a Kickstarter to friends to make it happen. I would tell you I'm not proud, but to this day I'm pretty sure it would be funded.) Those fantasies help you get through your breakup, because imagining your ex begging for forgiveness in front of all your coworkers until you tell him to stop, he's making a scene and then security escorts him out...I mean, that feels pretty good. In your head. Because in reality, if your ex showed up at work, it would be a total nightmare. 

And exes do show up. It's not usually at your parents' house during Sunday family dinner so he can apologize for ruining your life. It's usually accidental and messy. Oh yeah...and online. It'll happen online. We all know it's the worst. And yet...when we're on the other side...it's so tempting...

Well it's his birthday. I should tell him happy birthday. Just because I ended our relationship doesn't mean I want him to have a shitty birthday, right? It's harmless. 

Stop that. I'm saying this to you and to me. It's a tough decision, I know. But when do you let go of an ex? I'm not talking about avoiding them, because that's basically impossible. Given geography, mutual friends, and technology, you're probably going to run into an ex somehow. (Particularly technology. At least your mutual friends KNOW you broke up and don't want to see each other. Facebook is like, hey you have 37 mutual friends with this guy--maybe you should friend him! YES FACEBOOK I KNOW HIM. WE BROKE UP. YOU KNOW THAT, TOO. YOU KNOW EVERYTHING. You can keep track of what dresses I'm checking out on ModCloth but you can't remember who I digitally broke up with? I call bullshit.) 

Occasionally, an ex of mine will pop up somewhere on the internet I forgot about when I cleaned him out of my life. He recommended a book on Goodreads? He still uses Goodreads? Delete. Oh yeah, we WERE connected on LinkedIn...not anymore. I don't need to see that. 

There's no solid rule about contact with exes, and every relationship and subsequent breakup is a special little snowflake, blah blah blah, so you can't exactly go around making up hard and fast rules. So I don't have anything useful to tell you, as usual. But since this issue came up recently for a friend, I thought I'd tackle it just in case. 

Here are the few rules I use when it comes to getting in touch with exes. 

1. If I did the dumping, I let him come to me. He gets to set the terms of our post-breakup "friendship." Sure, maybe I said let's just be friends, but after that I'm letting him take the lead on it. If and when he's ready to be friendly, he can let me know. (And you're sitting there like, well what if he never calls? Then you really, really broke him and he never calls. Get over it.)

2. If I was dumped, then I cut off contact. No drunk texts, no sad voicemails, no tweets, and for god's sake no poking on Facebook. None. Shut it down. When (if) the time comes that I am no longer still in love with him and can really, honestly be just friends with him, I'll test the waters. (TEST the waters, not dive in headfirst.) You'll notice the emphasis on honesty here. You've got to be genuinely over him in order to forge a new post-relationship friendship. Sorry.

3. If I work with him, in any way, including volunteer stuff or him coming in to my place of work as a patron/customer, then it's polite civility. He's not worth having to chat with my boss about casually calling a customer a dickhead. 

Sometimes you can be friends with an ex. And sometimes you really, really can't. 

Throwback Thursday

A few years ago, I met my mom at work for some retirement party or holiday party or some other event. Whatever, it was a social function after work and I worked in the neighboring building and was tight with a lot of her coworkers. During this party of questionable origin, one of her coworkers I wasn't particularly approached me and naturally asked if I was single. (And I won't leave you in suspense, dear readers. Yes, I was single.) So she starts going on and on about her single son and she shows me his picture and I say yes, he's very handsome and cool he has a career that's great and she fumbles with a cell phone she doesn't know how to use and snaps what I'm certain was a mediocre photo of me to show him. 

A couple weeks go by and I get this facebook friend request from the guy so I accept him. I immediately stalk him an appropriate amount: enough to get a sense of who he is (what I'm saying here is does the guy have a million profile pictures with his arm around a woman, you know that's the first thing you look for) and he seemed normal. I figured him friending me was the equivalent of asking for my phone number and so when I accepted the request, that was me saying, here you go call me sometime. 

Apparently not. I waited like three days and heard nothing so I figured, ok fine I'll like his profile picture or something to get the ball rolling. Only when I searched for him he showed up NOT MY FRIEND ANYMORE. That guy unfriended me within three days without saying a word. 

New record. 

Alone at a Wedding

I've never planned a wedding. Well...actually I have. What I mean to say is that I've never paid for a wedding. But even without that hands on experience, I am certain that getting married is expensive.

For this reason, and for the sake of not having a bunch of randoms at "the most special day" of your life, I'm not offended when I don't get to bring a date to your wedding. (I'm assuming you don't give me a +1 because you're trying to save money, right? It's not because you don't think I could find a date? Because trust me, I could find a date if I had to. I totally could. I could find like ten dates.)

Wait, what were we talking about--oh right. I totally don't mind being invited by myself to a wedding.

But...

You knew there was a "but..." right?

But sometimes a date would be awesome. For example, at a family wedding. Unless you're really close to your cousins who will also be attending, family weddings can get really boring, really fast. It's not like you can flirt with anyone there, either, unless you're 100% positive you're not related to them. 
Or a wedding where you don't know a lot of people. Sure, you and the groom are really good friends,but you guys don't hang out with anyone else from the office fantasy football league where you met. It's not like you'll know anyone else at the wedding. Who will you talk to and judge people with? 
Or, you know, the most common one lately, weddings without many single people. This keeps happening. It's simple, really. The more weddings we attend, the more of our friends are married. People couple up. They don't need to find a date. They have a date. Permanently. Legally. But not everyone! Some of us are in this for the long haul, vying to win Survivor: Forever Alone. (AND I. WILL. WIN.) Now I'm not saying I want your wedding to be a speed dating event, but let's be real--the DJ will play slow music and all the couples will dance. At weddings back when lots of us were single, this was a good opportunity to find a cute boy and flirt with him on the dance floor. But as the crowd slowly evolves into a more married, coupled sort of group...who the hell do I dance with? The answer is I don't. I either sit at the table and hope your weird uncle doesn't come ask why I'm not dancing, or I escape to the bar and make poor choices, or I go to the bathroom just for something to do, or I sit there and send rude snapchats of happy couples dancing and snark on them on twitter. And while some of those are fun, it's a little...boring. A low point at your wedding. If you're not going to invite some other singles (preferably handsome, eligible men...just saying) you're kind of making me the 101st wheel. And it's kind of a bummer.

I'm not saying giving me a date is mandatory. But if you're dooming a wedding guest to an evening of solo activity, consider throwing them a bone and putting +1 on their invitation. Or, you know, make sure at least one of your groomsmen is single and handsome. I'll personally settle for that.




**I KNOW I KNOW you have to worry about how many people the church will seat and the reception hall capacity and the cost per plate of food and I GET IT OK you don't have to remind me. It's just a thought. 

How NOT to Internet Date...

...part 45 of 1,000,000 I guess. 

Twin got a message on OkCupid the other night, the first she'd gotten from this particular guy.

"What's your availability tomorrow night?"

This has been bothering me ever since she told me and I've been trying to figure out why. It's not obscene or rude and on top of that, it's not even my message! So why has it been silently pissing me off?

My first thought was that I disliked his abrupt introduction. Or rather, a lack of introduction and jumping right into the next phase. This guy skipped a greeting, a half-hearted compliment, a common interest, and a witty remark that you're wrong in your opinion of the best Back to the Future. He went all in. You busy tomorrow? He wants to do all that Dating 101 stuff in person. Screw typing. 

It's true that I find his approach to be a bit clumsy. It lacks finesse. This is not a guy with a lot of game. And it's sketchy. A lot of my friends are nervous about internet dating because the person you meet could be anybody at all. (And all of my female friends are nervous that your internet stranger might kill you. Yup.) He could be exactly who he says he is. Or the complete opposite. Or some great combination of lies and creep. It's a gamble! The first conversation(s) at least start the elimination process. My girls will still likely meet internet dates in a public place and have friends on standby ready to break you out of a terrible date. But at least they know that person made it through round one of cuts. 

I brought this up to some guys at the bar, a couple guys I've met before and a random guy I've never met and hopefully can avoid for the rest of my days--who invited himself into the conversation. They didn't see a problem with asking someone to meet up before you really chat. They made a decent point.

But I was STILL bothered by this guy--until today, when I realized why I hated his message so much. He does it all wrong. Sure, you know why he's asking if you're available, but he's also making it really hard for you to say no. (Or so he might think.) He asks about your availability tomorrow and you say yeah, I've got no plans. Then he asks if you want to get a drink. Well now you're screwed. You've painted yourself into a corner. If you don't want to see this guy, it just became really tricky. No thanks, you tell him. Well you just said you were free tomorrow! Why don't you want to see him?!** Because it must be him. You said you didn't have plans. What, did you make plans in the last 30 seconds??

Public Service Announcement for anyone throwing out date invites: We don't WANT to hurt your feelings, you know. Not all the time. We might like to give you an out! GIVE US A CHANCE TO REJECT YOU GENTLY. This guy took away any possibility of a graceful exit strategy.

Sure, I might turn a guy down because he's a disgusting ass. But I also might turn down a guy who seems perfectly nice but isn't a guy I want to date. Maybe he misread the situation and thought I was interested. In these cases, I'm not looking to be a bitch. 

Here's my tip for the day: if you're going to ask someone out, don't trick them into saying yes. "Do you want to get a drink tomorrow?" is perfectly acceptable. It leaves the other person a lot of options. They can say yes, or I would love that but tomorrow doesn't work, or no thanks I'm not interested, or no thanks I'm really busy, or fuck off you're a weirdo, or hey I'm in a relationship but thanks for asking, or any number of other responses. And they have the option of letting you down gently--and you'll both feel less awkward. "Are you available tomorrow?" should only be used as a follow-up question. 

I know you don't usually take my advice but please, try and remember this bit. Try really hard. 




**This might seem harsh but I had a guy demand why I didn't want to go out with him one time. Um, maybs because you're super aggressive and childish about rejection??