Sunday, June 27, 2010

#ICan'tDateYouIf

I'm mostly just trying to get back into the swing of writing but still not ready to write things of substance. What you should know is that right now I'm sitting on my living room couch wearing the tank top I wore yesterday and underwear.

My contribution to the world today will be a list of things that make men undateable to me.

Let's do this:

Item A: Owning a Cat. <--Because what that says about you is that you're needy...or lonely...or kind of a wimp.

Item B: You have loads of crazy stories. <--No joke, Mr. Flintstone has this really good older friend who told us over lunch once that his grandmother invented press-on nails. He followed this up by ordering a margarita and then telling us how when he was in his twenties, his then-girlfriend miscarried their baby at 5 weeks pregnant. The baby, aside from being translucent pink and tiny, was a girl who looked just like him. "If the pregnancy had taken, I'd have a daughter your age." This really happened, all while I was just trying to eat some enchiladas. I'm no physician, in fact, I'm an English major because I suck at science and shouldn't be trusted with the responsibility of another's life BUT I'm pretty sure 5 weeks of baby is just a jumble of non-descript cells and not a tiny pink person.

Item C: Inexplicable Neediness <-- I don't want to text back and forth all day and sending me texts of question marks after I fail to respond to a text that didn't really warrant a response, ugh, it's not going to make me respond! Initially, if you just want want to hang out too much, that's also going to drive me crazy. Let me tell you, the two craziest, worst boyfriends I had were also the neediest. So to me, that says there's a pattern. A pattern of needy=crazy.

Item D: Poor Appetite<--if you take me to dinner & you don't clean your plate, ugh, I can't even explain why I hate this. It makes me feel like you're a wimp. I like a man that can put away some food! I just feel like a large appetite is manlier and it tells me that you're passionate. It's also kinda like metaphorical; you're hungry like ambitious. And ambition definitely makes you dateable.

Item E: Weird Sense of Humor <-- & I don't mean like you laugh at awkward stuff or things that most people don't find funny, I mean if you hardly ever laugh. I laugh at EVERYTHING. Laughing is probably in my top 3 favorite things to do so sense of humor is super important to me.  But I'm also turned off by men who laugh when people get hurt. I don't know, that's just mean.

Item F: Apathy <-- YOU HAVE TO CARE ABOUT SOMETHING!!! I almost don't even care what, but I just need to see from time to time that there's a sweet man in there somewhere. There was this time where Mr. Flintstone and I went to this arcade kinda place on a double date & while we're there he's playing all theses games trying to wrack up tickets. So I'm thinking he's going to try to exchange them for something later, but as we left, he walks up to this cute Asian kid and gives him all his tickets. Mr. Flintstone has never been so attractive to me fully dressed as he was at that moment.

Item G: Not being a G. <-- haha, okay, that was a little bit of a joke. I was trying to make a pun!!! I don't mean literally a gangster, I mean I need someone who is a MAN. I need someone who I can get into trouble with, because I will. I want to be with someone who makes me feel safe. There's a fine line between being apathetic and overly empathetic--both make you undateable but walking that grey area is so attractive. I'm going to be honest--men who cry A LOT gets no love.

Physical Unforgivables

Item H: Patchy body hair/excessive body hair.
Item I: Inexplicable body sores/warts/postules.
Item J: Hip Hop regalia from the early 2000s (ie braids, grills/gold teeth, too much jewelry, being too matchy-matchy, eyebrows with designs, etc) In other words, Riff Raff from MTv's G's to Gents project would be a whole mess of undateable.


& while we're all still staring in disgust/amazement at Riff Raff's mix-tape album cover, I'd like to bring up another physical unforgiveable;
Item K: Stupid Tattoos<-- I love tattoos! I have 5! But I'm honestly concerned because I feel like people now tend to just get whatever. If you're going to have something on your body, please please please let it be something meaningful. True Story: I once dated a guy and he had this tattoo on his right shoulder. It was a halo and a set on angel wings with the words "RIP Family" between the wings. I asked him, "Did a lot of people in your family pass away?" & he says, "No, actually, no one's died yet. But eventually they will." At least he was thinking ahead! The same guy had two different cell phones from two different networks in an effort to save money.  One was a blue, old school nokia--> like so old school it only played those ringtones completely composed of sounds the keys on your phone make, and the other was a red blackberry. Concluding his explanation of the two phones he says, "and this one's red and this one's blue so I don't get them mixed up."

Which reminds me, getting back to the regular list,

Item L: Stupidity<-- I'm not talking about being uneducated (although, being a college graduate IS SO SUPER ATTRACTIVE to me) just being stupid. There is a BIG difference between being uneducated and being stupid; the guy I just mentioned was an ENGINEERING MAJOR, with like a 3.0--> and STILL an IDIOT. Being educated DOES NOT make you smart (although, it does show me that you have ambition; again, Very sexy). Dummies, I can't deal with them. They get on my nerves like no other!

I hope it doesn't seem like I'm picky, but I honestly do have STANDARDS. & I don't even think I'm asking for a lot!

Thursday, June 17, 2010

It's like a dark cloud just settled over my head...


I'm not even going to make excuses for myself. Right now, I'm sitting on my couch wearing only the shirt I had on yesterday and some underwear.

But I did get dressed yesterday and I woke up before noon today so I definitely consider both of those to be epic wins.

Yesterday, it was a really great friend of mine's 21st birthday and we celebrated by having dinner at olive garden (which reminds me that I left my leftovers in my car overnight--by now my entire garage probably smells like five cheese ziti al forno--arguably, there are worse things it could smell like, but anyway) so as we all looked over the dessert menu, I chose my absolutely favorite dessert in the world; the torta di chocolate. So the waitress brings it out to me and says, "This is like my favorite dessert. I'm so sad they're taking it off the menu."

Words cannot explain...It was like being kicked in the stomach. It was comparable to someone telling me that a long time friend was killed in a freak accident. It was like a dark rain cloud settled over my head, a menacing gleam in its eye.
I will always love you. RIP, my sweet friend.

I don't think I can get you guys to fully understand the gravity of this situation for me; I seriously had it mapped out in my mind that at my wedding, I would commission the Olive Garden distributors to manufacture several dozens of these to stack on top of each other in lieu of an actual cake. That's how much I love it. We had plans!!!

I don't understand why these things have to happen. All I can do is lift my face and arms to the heavens and shout, "Why, God, why???"

Okay, I'm done now.

Friday, June 4, 2010

"What's In a Name?"


Hello Reader(s),

It's been nearly three weeks since I graduated from Texas A&M University and I've had the most difficult time motivating myself to do anything other than scratch myself and sleep. Seriously--I've got to drive to San Antonio tomorrow to hand deliver a registration sheet for St. Mary's Law School that I forgot to mail before graduation and my subsequent stay in Austin with Mr. Flintstone.

The important thing, though, is that I'm back and ready to write.
One more time for the cheap seats: I'M BACK, B*TCHES!

My parents, reader(s), are in the midst of divorcing. In the coming legal proceedings, my mother's plan is to squeeze and drain as much money and assets as she can from my dad. To aid in this conquest, she is hiding behind the fact that my dad was romantically interested in another woman for the last four years. My mother threw my dad out approximately six years ago and they have never reconciled since. When I recently spoke with her, my mother told me that what my dad is doing is wrong because they were married.

Much in the tradition of 500 days of Summer (which has in no way influenced our relationship, but I felt was worth mention) Mr. Flintstone and I are involved in a relationship sans titles. He makes me happy everyday and I cant get enough of him. But I'd be lying if I said the fact that we don't have titles doesn't give me periodic anxiety.

Where I'm going with this is I'd like to pose a question; How important are titles in the world of relationships?

In my parents' case, marriage was a mere word--and had long been just that. In Mr. Flintstone & I's affair, nearly all aspects feel, taste, look like a relationship except, of course, he is not my boyfriend.

I look at the disolution of my parents' marriage, and I see relationships around me where one or more partners are unaware that their someone special is steppin' out on them. What I see from this is that a title doesn't guarantee anything. In our day and age, marriage hardly guarantees anything.

But I'll be damned if I haven't turned Mr. Flintstone and I's situation over and over in my mind--I have to ask myself if I'm a fool, if I'm setting myself up to be seriously humiliated or worse, heart broken.

And it's not about wanting a boyfriend; Flintstone technically IS my ex boyfriend, and in the time we've been "broken up," I could have had several boyfriends but I don't see a purpose in being with someone if I'm not 100%  into them or being without someone I am 100% into if I can help it.

So...I hope you have an answer because I have no effin' idea.

Hey, like I said, I've been horribly unproductive for 3 weeks.

& the photo at the top IS NOT Mr. Flintstone & I, but instead, my friend Smoochie & me--here he's pretending he adores me.