Dear Poor You,

Dear Poor You,

This has to stop. Immediately.
I see your Facebook posts. The ones that say, “Nobody loves me”, “Will I ever find a guy to make me happy?”, “Nobody would even care if I died.”; all of them. This kind of behavior is unacceptable.

Nobody would dare to call me a sensitive person; at least not as sensitivity pertains to the happiness of healthy, capable people. Like you. So, when I see or hear you complaining about how your life has no meaning because you’re not in a relationship, I want to punch you in the throat. SNAP OUT OF IT!

So, your relationship ended. So, you’ve been single for most of the year. Big deal! Relationships end everyday and single people are everywhere. You’re not alone. Your situation is not unique. Move on.

I am a firm believer in the “walk it off” philosophy. Get up, dust yourself off and get going.

You say you don’t know if you’ll ever be truly happy?
I’m sorry but if YOU don’t know, then I’m afraid no one else will be able to help you either.

Your happiness does not depend on anyone but yourself. Period. No person should have that kind of power of your life and if they do, then it’s not really your life anyway, so there’s no reason for it to trouble you.

Happiness isn’t a prize won when you say, “I do”.  Relationships don’t equal automatic bliss. That job you’ve been hoping for won’t grant you instant felicity; neither will the money, the cars, or the clothes (or the hoes *in my Drake voice*).
Happiness starts with you. If you aren’t happy with yourself then how can you expect anyone else to be?

How do you reach true happiness, you ask?
Open your eyes.  Can’t you see how blessed you are?
There are people all over the world who would graciously accept your problems in exchange for your blessings. A good job, a home, a family, awesome friends that are ready to reassure you the instant you start to question yourself.  You’re healthy, smart, beautiful, and you are the only person who doesn’t think so.

Life is too short and there are far too many amazing things in it to enjoy for you to waste time with your “poor me’s”.

You don’t need a boyfriend to transform you into a complete and worthwhile person. You are complete and worthwhile all on your own.

I cannot say that you will ever meet “the one”. That’s a promise I would not even make to myself. I can say; however, that with or without him, your life is worth living.
You need to see that for yourself.
Stop assessing the value of your life against the blessings of others.

You have your own blessings to count.

P.S. Next time it will be a punch in the throat.

To the Nice Guy

Dear Mr. Nice Guy,

You are exceptional! What makes you so great? The list is a long one.
You are honest, respectful, considerate, thoughtful, kind, funny, generous, sensitive. You know when (and how) to make me laugh, you know when to be attentive. You are able to tell when I need my space and you give it to me without question.  You choose your battles wisely, only arguing when you know I want a fight but you never submit (even though you’re always wrong). You aren’t jealous, or possessive, or demeaning. You build me up, support my decisions. You are the optimism I need when I am feeling like a failure. My sarcasm doesn’t offend you. You’re understanding, and compassionate. Perfect.

I owe you an apology, several in fact. I’d like to first apologize to all the nice guys of the world on behalf of my gender, at least a large portion of it. I am sorry that we were unable to recognize you for what you are: a good man. I am sorry for friend-zoning you when, in our own selfishness and fear we committed to a platonic relationship with you. I am sorry that we did not want to “complicate” things; for coming to you for relationship advice; for allowing you to sleep over and hold us through the night. I apologize for telling you how grateful we are to have a friend like you when all along, you’ve wanted more. I apologize for the appalled expression when someone suggests that we make a cute couple. And for complaining that there aren’t any good men left. We didn’t mean to overlook you.
For women, and some men, everywhere, I sincerely apologize.

The truth is, I trust you completely. You have proven time and time again that you are trustworthy and loyal. You’ve seen me at my best, my worst, my in between. I cherish the connection we share. You are important to me.
You would be a loving, faithful husband, a doting father, a gentle lover. When I look at you, I see hearts, flowers and forever. It would be effortless to fall for you, as falling should be. You deserve to be with someone as kind, considerate, caring, generous and supportive as you are. An ideal woman for the ideal man.
But, I’m not her.

I’m selfish, argumentative, fiercely independent, detached. I know who I am, and I know that you deserve better.
When I push you away, it’s not because I don’t like you, it’s not a signal for you to try harder; it’s because I don’t want to hurt you. When I get mad at you for giving me gifts, don’t think I didn’t like them, I just don’t want you to expect anything in return. Because I can’t give you what you’re looking for.
The reason, I don’t like surprises is because I can’t anticipate your moves, I can’t protect you from yourself.

Maybe you’re wondering why any woman in her right mind would push away the ideal man, the nice guy. Simple. I’m not ready for forever.
One day, perhaps but I’m not planning for that day yet.
You’re the ‘settle down’ type but my freedom is my most cherished possession.

I’m sorry if I’ve misled you by allowing you to hope for a future together. I am sorry for insisting that I didn’t want to complicate things when they’ve been complicated from the very start. I am sorry for my selfishness in encouraging you not to give up; for taking so long to say that I can’t. I won’t.
I’m just not quite ready for nice.

The Mean Girl

Toeing the Line

Somewhere along the ever-growing list of qualities that women seek in relationships; around  ‘chiseled abs” and ‘the face of Adonis’, is “Passion”.
We don’t just want to be wanted, we want to be desired. We don’t want a peck on the cheek, we want to be kissed to the point of delirium.
I blame romance novels. I blame the Duke that searches the land for the lowly midwife, takes her from her modest lifestyle and dote on her until the two fall “madly in love” and live happily ever after. Yeah, I just read that book.

We crave passion, and desire, and “madness in love”.
EVERY woman and I don’t care how independent you are or how detached you claim to be; I’m even including myself in this generalization, EVERY woman wants to feel desired.
EVERY woman wants a man (or perhaps another woman) to love her so earnestly that he (or she) would sacrifice himself (or herself) for her.
EVERY woman wants that heat and wanton need —- okay, I’ll stop.

Genuine passion is hard to find. Not because it doesn’t exist but because it is often used as a veil to mask the true nature of the individual.
There is a thin line between passion and psychosis. How can we distinguish the two? Please, if you have the answer, share it. (I suggest facebook, google, myspace, hi5, county records, etc)

I am sure that Brian White, 19, probably at some point considered himself to be passionate. Probably during the time he was actually dating the girl whose mother and new boyfriend he murdered out of jealousy and anger. This is not a joke people.  Tragedies like this one occur too frequently. They’re considered “Crimes of Passion”!?

A very thin line, indeed.

On the edge of sleep just last night, I considered a past relationship that I can only describe as ‘beige’.
We were comfortable enough with each other that we could sit in total silence and be perfectly content. No confessions of love eternal or promises to put the other’s life before our own. How boring?

But then I thought of the possible alternative. I could have a comfortably boring boyfriend like Dave* or I could have the passionate, possessive, and ultimately insane Adonis (and his chiseled abs).

Beige is a nice color; calm and complementary to almost everything.

*Names have been changed

I’d rather have this conversation through text…

I don’t do well with emotions. I’m not good at expressing them, or hearing them expressed to me. Not sure what glitch in my system makes me want to be a sarcastic ass every time someone tells me how much they care for me. My standard response? “Aw, right back at you!” or “Of course you do, how could you not?”
I’ve discovered over the years that these responses, while intended to lighten the mood, are usually not appropriate. Imagine that!

The guy of my dreams, Will Smith, could be confessing his love for me and my reaction would make him never want to say the “L” word again. Oops.

Case in point:
Valentine’s Day… a couple years ago.
The guy I had only been dating for a little over 2 weeks did it BIG! Candles, music, dinner, hot bath, flowers EVERYWHERE, gifts and him – in his fireman’s uniform. So sweet, so corny.
And then me, “Aw thanks… I’m going to bed.”

In my defense, I was exhausted. I just came off of a 12 hour, non stop shift at the restaurant I worked at. The last thing I wanted to do was anything except sleep. That’s my excuse, though, I know I probably wouldn’t have reacted any differently if I wasn’t dead on my feet. Anyway, he was crushed and I felt like a horrible person. Sorry.

I’m the kind of girl who rehearses the tough conversations. I write down different scenarios and then go over them like a script. I imagine how the conversation will play out, though it rarely goes the way I expect . When it comes time to actually say what needs to be said, I clam up.
How do I begin? I don’t want to ruin the perfectly good mood with a serious topic, but I can’t focus on anything else so, I say nothing. Total silence.
He starts thinking something is wrong, or maybe he just thinks I have a mental disability. I don’t know. I wait until I’m away from him, safe, and then I spill my guts via text.
Yea, I’m that girl. The one who ends relationships through AT&T.

It’s easier for me to say what I need to say, the way I want to say it, no interruptions, no distractions, no sad eyes staring at me while I speak. Nobody has to know if my eyes start watering (watering, not tearing up). It’s safer.

I hate when I text someone something serious and they respond with, “we need to talk about this in person.”
NO! I would rather just text you.

No Strings

I miss what we used to have
No complications
No expectations
We could talk about anything
My man, your girl
Our relationships
We weren’t just friends,
Slightly more
There for each other
Every need, every hunger
No pressure
Just pleasure
There was trust between us
Though we were doing wrong
A bond unbreakable
Even in the face of danger.
If they knew how things were,
There’d definitely be trouble.
Something changed one day
I realized too late
You asked me to stay
Through the night
There we lay
Just talking
Hours passed, longer than usual
Not sure when it happened
What moment
What hour
But I felt it in the morning,
You looked at me different
It scared me at first,
Disappointed me, second.
It couldn’t be the same now
Emotions messed it up
We couldn’t keep this going
And hurt the ones we love
I stood up to go
You kissed me goodbye
One last touch,
One last hug,
One last time.
And then I was gone
That was it
I think of you often,
But I haven’t seen you since
All we had
All it was
Just friendship
No love
No strings