Let me Check my Schedule

I wonder if I should be concerned about the amount of time I spend alone.  I spend a lot of time alone.  I'm actually a little bit embarrassed to admit how much time I spend by myself. 

I have reasons (excuses). I work very hard.  I spend 8 hours a day with my *A* game.  I need to know multiple business processes and recognize multiple product types.  One mistake and my company can lose money.  I like to think I have a strong work ethic and I don't like to make mistakes.  I carry it personally, so screwing up is not an option.  I need to be decisive.  Work can be stressful only because I make it so.  I manage people and my job is to be really super personable.  It's not just my job, though.  I enjoy being kind and compassionate towards people.  I think it's important to be caring towards others, because everyone is fighting a battle of some sort.  But sometimes, it can be taxing to be nice to that person in the grocery store when all you want to do is tell them to move their slow, fat ass out of way so you can reach the Activia yogurt.  Or to the guy banging on my car window this morning - while I'm in the drive thru line with my son in the back seat - because I won't give him a quarter so he can go buy a smoke off someone. I had some choice words for this guy telling me I have more money than he'll ever have.  That may be so, dude, but I've also worked my ass off for it, so why don't you go get a job and then we'll talk.  Instead, I just smiled.  

I'm a single mother to a very busy 7 year old boy, and that's a full time job in itself.  Homework and reading and hockey and soccer and he asks, "Why?" an awful lot.  He's an only child, he needs (wants) me to play with him and entertain him and interact.  I can't say, "Go play with your brother."  And I don't really enjoy playing hockey.  I'm a 'Game of Life' whiz, let me say.  Me time, often, is quiet time.

I have friends.  Really, really great friends.  Like awesome friends.  I have single friends and married friends.  I have new friends and old friends.  I have friends with kids and friends without.  I have friends that have been there with me through thick and thin, and friends who I know would be should the need arise.  I am so blessed by the people I have in my life.  But schedules are difficult to coordinate, and a social life is expensive. 

I'm tired.

I'm exhausted.  I look forward to getting home and putting on my fleece jammie pants, my favourite hoodie, flipping on the t.v. and watching 'Dancing with the Stars'.  I look forward to eating chocolate when no ones watching.  I look forward to Grey's Anatomy.  In fact, it's a highlight of my week.  I love my computer and my iPhone and stupid little word games that shut off my brain. 

I'm a homebody by nature.  I can easily watch a documentary on Thailand and feel completely content that it's there and that I've seen it without actually having to experience it.  I can read a book about a love story written in France and feel as though I've lived in France for my whole life.  I can imagine stories in my mind and feel as though I'm missing nothing of the world.

I love going to bed.  I have a really, really comfy bed and an awesome duvet.  After Q was born and I suffered post partum depression, sleep was instrumental in my recovery.  I notice whenever I get silly and super stressed and anxious, it's usually because I haven't had enough sleep.  And enough sleep for some is 6-8 hours, but for me...10 hours is perfect, but I can function on 8.  Sleep is my coping mechanism.  It keeps me sane. 

But I have to wonder if there is more to life than the one I'm living.   While I'm sitting at home scrolling through Pinterest, people are out there....living.  While I'm playing 'Words with Friends', there are real live friends out there for the taking.  I wonder if I'm missing out on the finer things in life, and why am I okay with it?  Is it fear? Am I so comfortable in my bubble, too fearful to see what's outside?  Is it complacency?  Coming home to my jammies is so easy.  I'm so concerned with my life meaning something and yet I'm not really doing anything to make it so.  My greatest fear is dying and my tombstone reading, "Who?" but at the rate I'm going, people might just wonder where User 3738499 went on Draw Something. 

Even my mom (extreme irony here) says I need to get out more.  She gets out more than I do, and she's more than 20 years older than me.  I mean, if anyone should be getting 10 hours per night, it's her.  Right, Ma?

So, I guess what I'm saying is....have a free evening?  Give me a call.  I'm free.  I'm reaaaaaaaaally free.  Except on Thursdays, cuz that's Grey's Anatomy.  I guess there's PVR, though.  I could PVR it...Okay, so ya I'm free.

Three Things

Walking to my car after work today, my employee started up a little convo with me.  It's funny, because from day one she's been really very personal with all the questions, but we all know how much I love talking about me, so of course I don't mind.  I think she's in a funk. 

A marriage induced funk. 

You know the one.  The "I'm so not appreciated.  He doesn't love me.  I don't love him.  Look at him sitting there, like he doesn't know.  I remember when we used to be so in love.  He used to talk to me.  Now, nothing.  Nothing."  We've all been there, whether married or not.  Some of us choose to move on, others of us choose to work it out.  Someone somewhere said that the secret to their long, successful marriage was that neither one of them fell out of love at the same time.   Sometimes, no matter what, it just doesn't work.  For me, I was just way too angry to ever get that loving feeling back again.  Now, I look at him and feel nothing...except for the occasional pang of pity.

Anyways I think she's looking for permission to be miserable in her marriage.  I'm somewhat of a poster child for *single motherhood* in her eyes, I think.  Or maybe I'm just another woman to whom can she can relate.  Whatever the case may be, we began talking today and she asked me what I thought were the top three signs you're in love.

Well, I'm no expert and I'll never, ever claim to be (well...not on love anyways...) but this is how I will know that I am in love with someone and that they're in love with me....

1.  Respect - You respect their time, ideas, beliefs, thoughts, mind, heart, body.  

2.  Compromise - You are willing to compromise something that is important to the other person in order to make them happy.  You want them to be happy.  You want to take care of them.

3.  Companionship - You enjoy their company.  (Kinda a big deal, huh?)

Sure the butterflies are amazing.  Feeling like you're going to throw up with excitement every time you see them is fabulous.  But at the end of the day, feeling like you're about to barf is not a practical way to go through life.  Butterflies belong in places other than your stomach.  So when those things go away there has to be something left behind that matters.  Those three things matter to me more than anything else. 

I mean, ya...it would be cool if he's super funny, looks like Brad Pitt and has abs like David Beckham...   

I'm just sayin'...

Oh, oh, oh...and white teeth like that guy on American Idol right now.  That would be nice, too.

What are your 'Top 3'?  I'd really like to know, so don't be shy!!

i heart u

My thoughts lately have been about love, you know with Valentine's Day just around the corner.  I guess my thoughts are never far from love, it's just so much more pronounced when every where you look, you see hearts and flowers and pink and balloons with hearts and flowers and pink on them. 

I had a night to myself last night.  Little man was at a hockey game with his dad, and so I had a whole evening of *me* time.  This doesn't happen very often as I really like the time I get to spend with my Q and there isn't any way I'd rather spend my time than with him.  He's only young once and I feel like maybe if I watch him and study his features and his mannerisms and memorize every inch of him that it will all come back to me when he is a grown man.  I'll close my eyes when he has gone to college or is travelling the world, and I'll be able to see my little boy, and hear his little voice.

And then again, maybe I won't.  Maybe I'm freakin' my little guy out for nothing.  Haha...

Anyways, I had a night to myself.  I could do absolutely anything I wanted.  Guess what I decided to do...

I rented a couple of chick flicks and snuggled up on the couch and watched them by myself. 

I watched "Eat, Pray, Love".  The book was probably one of the most phenomenal reads ever for me.  Me and Liz...we're like total opposites.  The absolute last thing I ever want to do with my life is go to India and meditate for three months.  It's just not who I am, nor what I want.  The inspiring thing about this book/movie is watching a woman discover herself, heal from her past, and allow it to mold her into who she is and what she wants.  Of course, the movie and the book both end with her falling in love. 

The thing that gets me is that unlike all those romantic comedies that are created in Hollywood, this one is based on a true story.  The prince in Liz's fairy tale is real.  He comes with scars and wounds and imperfections of his own, but he exists.

I've been feeling, for the past two or so years as though this is my happy ending.  This is my fairly tale.  Not so much because it's the ending I've planned, but because it's the one I've ended up with.  I figure if this is what God has given me, then instead of being disgruntled and expecting more I should be happy with it and find all the joy I can from it. 

The one thing missing from my life is the one fundamental in every one else's life.  The phrase "When I get married..." has been replaced with "If I ever get married..."  Why is that?  I'm a fabulous person with a whole lot to offer.  I really, really am.  Why aren't men dropping at my feet, knocking down my door, begging me to spend my life with them?

But what if men were knocking on my door?  What if only one man was?  What would I do?  I'm this strong independent woman who values my alone time, my ability to make my own choices, my (mostly) financial stability.  What would happen if you add a man to this mix?  Would it be like mixing oil with water?  I don't need someone.  How do I need someone?  How do I let someone need me without seeing it as a weakness?

My biggest fear ever is that I will lose my independence all together of my own volition and completely immerse myself in mr. prince/perfect.  I'm afraid I will lose myself and become that clingy, needy woman who needs a man.  Where is that balance?  How do I find that?  These are all questions that I can't answer until I'm actually in a *relationship*, still it's something to worry about, right? 

Well, Happy Happy Valentine's Day, my loves.  Love who you're with, love who you are, love with all your heart.

And While we're on the Subject of Beautiful Men...

Okay, so we were on the subject of beautiful men a post or two back, but that's just semantics.  I mean, when are we NOT on the subject of beautiful men, right?  I thought that while I've started to give advice, you know,  on dating and such, I might as well continue.  Well...it's that, but also I'm not finished with my rant.  Bear with me here as I rant figure this one out...

Don't get me wrong, I love beautiful men as much as the next guy...erm...gal.  Just look at these specimens...

All beautiful men.  All of them.  Look at the manicured eyebrows, the smooth, clean shaven faces (or ruggedly-handsome 5 o'clock shadow), excellently attired.  Let's go over the list here, girls....

Brad Pitt - left wife of five years for mistress (which if you ask, I am most definitely in the Jolie camp.  I know she was the mistress and all, but Aniston is such a whiner...)

George Clooney - serial dater of much, much younger women

Hugh Grant - Serial dater, plus the whole prostitute scandal

Jude Law - Cheated on his wife with his girlfriend, cheated on his girlfriend with his nanny

Yes, they're all actors and I understand that Hollywood breeds a certain type of lifestyle that doesn't necessarily promote monogamy.  But it proves my point, so I'm gonna use it to my advantage.  Beautiful men are not all they're cracked up to be. 

After years of dating beautiful men, a friend of a friend decided to join e-harmony (which I am not supporting...in the least, we all know how I feel about internet dating...if not, well then I'd like to know why you've not been reading my blog regularly for the past two and a half years....) and decided to go in with a completely open mind.  As in whomever she was matched with, as long as he wasn't a serial killer or married, she would go on at least one date with.  She wasn't ruling out any options.  Guess what.  Turns out, tall, dark and handsome was not her type.  Tall, over weight and balding was more her style.  I know, hey...what a turn of events.  This guy treats her like a queen.  She's happier than she has ever been.  In fact, so totally happy, she married the guy. 

Another girlfriend has been dating this older man for quite some time now.  His party days are long behind him and he's got a beer belly years in the making, but she has never, ever loved a man like she loves this one.  Now, he's also a louse.  For other reasons.  But he's a man, so I think we're all used to that being the case. 

My point. 

There are many, many men in the world.  Beautiful men, and not so beautiful men.  I would take a man who loves me and takes care of me and wants the world for me over a man who has perfectly groomed eyebrows  and six pack abs every single time.  Any man who takes longer to get ready than I do, is no man for me.  Any man who could be described as 'pretty' is probably gay, but if he's not...I do not want him.  Give me stubble, give me wrinkles, give me a little bit of imperfection, any day.  Lord knows I'm full of flaws (yes they're minor, but they are there...)

There's a very, very thin line between taking care of me and being super clingy, mind you.  I've in the past mistaken super clingy for being loving and attentive.  More than once, actually I'm just saying...everything is about balance. 

So, to recap:

Men cheat (more often than not). 

Beautiful men cheat more (probably).

Open your mind to all possibilities (it is possible that bald is beautiful).

And clingy is not cool (and is quite often mistaken for love). 

Yep.  That about covers it.  It was a rant.  Rants don't follow a reasonable path.  You go where ever you feel led. 

Dear Single Dating Mommy,

Get this...I'm listening to the radio the other morning and they have this *news* item that says there's a third gender.  Asexual.  So, there are males - males who like females.  There are females - who are attracted to males.  And then there are asexuals - who are attracted to neither.  They have equal number of male friends and female friends but feel attraction to none.  They have no desire to be married or co-habitate with either men or women.  Any affection (read: human touch) that they need, they get from a hug or a handshake.  They have full and rewarding lives and careers, they just don't require sex to feel fulfilled.  Even more shocking (to me, anyways...) they don't want it...

So, the constant worrier thinker that I am...I've started to ponder this.  How long does one have to be single before they're considered 'asexual'?  Is it a year?  Is it two?  Maybe there is some sort of form you have to fill out in triplicate before they slot you into the new gender.  Is it going to be a choice on the next census?  Do you have to be a willing participant for it to be valid?  Or does someone decide for you? 

Because I've been single for almost two years now.  Actually, that is a total lie.  I've been single for four years in December.  I haven't dated for almost two years.  To work, I wear black cargo pants (with at least 6 pockets...they're handy, what else can I say?), a navy blue polo shirt, a navy blue cardigan sweater...and boots...steel toed boots, to be exact.  I don't know about you, but that screams asexual to me.  My male co-workers wear the EXACT same thing.  There used to be definition between my waist and hips, a nice hour glass figure I was.  Now, they merge nicely into each other, which if I'm correct is considered to be a *gasp* pear shape or maybe an apple...point is, if they're using fruit to describe your body, it cannot be good. 

If you look in my closet, you'll find I have more sweat pants and hoodies than dress pants or even jeans.  And my bras?  I'm not going to lie...I'm choosing function over fashion, comfort over lace.  My hair right now is in a bun, and I told myself it was so I could have an extra 10 minutes to snooze, but was I lying?  To myself?  I have this one black hair that grows from my chin (my eyebrows get confused sometimes, I think) and I try to stay on top of plucking it, but sometimes I forget until it's like half an inch long.  And this very moment, I'm horribly exhausted and even though I know a coat of bright red lip stick would do a world of difference in making me look bright and awake, I've not put any on.  In fact, truth be told I don't even have red lipstick with me.  I think I have a clear gloss though...

What's next, I wonder?  Soon, my roots will grow out or even worse, I'll cut my long, long locks pixie short - purely for convenience, I'll say.  But will it be the truth?  I'll stop wearing nail polish and jewelry and maybe I'll leave the house with only a bit of mascara instead of the full meal deal.  I'm sure it's only a matter of time. 

Of course, this is all ridiculous.  I'm not on the road to asexual.  Of course, I'm not.

My real fear is that I'm becoming a radical feminist / man-hater.  And it's probably closer to the point.  

Exhibit A...

My girlfriend sister is dating a guy right now who is super duper considerate to everyone but her.  His cleaning lady did a fabulous job, so he bought her chocolates, he bought someone else (his secretary, I think) flowers.  Girlfriend goes into the hospital for surgery and he doesn't even pick her up.  She has to get a friend to do so.  Then, they live in Dubai (she's a flight attendant) and she opens a coke during Ramadan.  He gets all mad because he's afraid the religious police will detain them and she tells him he's over reacting, so he drives extra slow by said police in an attempt to prove his point.  Are you kidding me?  DUMPED.

Exhibit B...

My co-worker is hotter than I am.  He's hotter than any one I know.  It annoys me.  To. No. End.  Seriously, dude...get a zit or a twitch or a grey hair or something.  Truth is, he needs a haircut.  DUMPED.

Exhibit C...

Best girlfriend is (was) dating this guy who has been separated from his wife for four years.  He pursued her, he made her fall in love with him.  After four years, one and a half of those with my gf, and a$$ hole decides to go back to his wife, partially because the divorce will devastate him financially.  BFF is hoping he comes back.  Um, can you say DUMPED?????

Exhibit D...

Now I love my brother to pieces, but I could never, ever date him.  He does this thing where he leaves his socks all over the living room floor and farts on a whim.  Sometimes, it's all I can do to bite my tongue and not tell his lovely gal to drop everything, run for the hills, and DUMP his sorry keister. 

Those are just four examples.  I know I could come up with about a tra-billion more, but I think I've made my point.  Men are ridiculous.  Men are cheaters.  Men are selfish.  Men are all about themselves.  After almost four years on my own, I cannot imagine having someones smelly socks in my living room (other than my brother's, of course).  I can't imagine someone hogging the bed and snoring beside me (other than Q...Of course).  I can't imagine finding a solution other than DUMP him.  What?  Work it out?  Why?  Just so another issue can pop up somewhere else?  I want to see the chick flick, you want to see the action...where is the compromise, I ask you, WHERE?  Is there even one?  I'm not so sure anymore that there is. 

Bottom line, it can't be all about me if there's a you in the picture, too. 

Now, does anyone need any dating advice?  Because I'm offering my services. 

Clarity in a Jeep YJ

Okay, so I guess some clarification is in order. My definition of "submissive" is NOT the weak, timid woman who lets her man walk all over her, belittling her and making all her decisions for her. That is not what I meant. At all. I mean, I have a brain and I like to use it. I have an identity and I'd like to keep it!! I truly believe that relationships are an equal partnership. I guess I meant my heart. Over the years, my heart has become hard and bitter. It does not trust. It is a skeptic. Sometimes I'm afraid my heart doesn't know how to love anymore (well, in the man vs. woman sense.) I ache for someone who can take my heart and protect it. I ache for the opportunity to trust someone enough to give them my love. And, I have met my share of christian men who were - for lack of a better word - assholes. They suffer from their own God complexes, their own issues - most of which are actually their inability to love, their emotionally void hearts and minds. They hide behind their religion and their bible, and they use it as an excuse. So, notice I was very careful to say I was looking for a GODLY man. Not a religious man, not a christian man, a Godly man. I despise what religion has become just as much as the next guy. Mr. 1st Crush just opened my mind to a different way of thinking. Or maybe it's the way I've always thought, and I just had the good fortune to have a man validate my beliefs. I love having men as friends. They offer such a different perspective on absolutely everything. Most of the time it's totally warped, but every now and then they surprise me. LOL! I was on the skytrain last night on my way home. It was midnight, so there are always weirdos, okay...not fair...there are always 'interesting' people. This gorgeous guy gets on. Gorgeous. Beautiful broad shoulders, tanned golden skin, tall and dark, just like I like 'em. And the guy doesn't even check me out. Not once. Usually I get a glance (I'm just saying...), but this guy, Nothing. We get off at the same stop. I get in my little Kia Spectra, and he gets into his...wait for it...yellow Jeep YJ. Yep, he was gay. Ugh, you know they say that the majority of single men in the lower mainland are gay. That severely lowers my odds of finding 'the one'...case in point...even on the skytrain. So, I guess this should make me feel good, right? It's not me...well, okay, it is me...but it's my gender...not my mind, that the majority of men don't like. Oh, I feel so much better.