The Game

I’m curled up on the couch and powering through my third cup of black coffee (I’m so hard core now sans creamer…) I have been scrolling through Facebook clicking and liking…commenting and half listening to what Jennifer is saying on the phone, half paying attention to the addictive cyber world at my fingertips.

I have been selectively hearing a majority of this conversation, not because I am (arguably) a bad friend, or  because I don’t have any sincere concern for her current conundrum-because I do. But we have had this conversation so ridiculously many times before that I have to image she is getting just as tired of saying all this crap as I am of hearing it. Nevertheless, she has done the same for me, so here we are diving into the dark and mysterious depths of the dating underworld.

“He said he in't playing games with me, he said that like…he didn’t mean to hurt me but he doesn’t really know how he feels… so he didn’t really know where we stand…”

Blah blah blah…by the end of the story she finally tells me what REALLY happened; they’ve been dating for a month then she saw him out at the bar (with some other lucky lady)…and it all went downhill from there.

All I got on the other end of this convo was that Mr. “I don’t know how I feel”….has now impressively graduated from the Jr. College School of Douche Bags and been accepted into the masters program of Ultimate Douche Lord Academy, where you arrive a mindless, Fireball-shooting bro, and leave a fine-tuned bro-tastic machine; never committing and hopefully never reproducing.

Jennifer is unfortunately drawn to these types of boys (we don’t want to go throwing the term “men” around loosely…) …or these boys are drawn to Jennifer. I’m not entirely sure which one is wooing whom, but I’ve attempted multiple times to gently suggest some minimal changes in Jennifer’s approach to meeting guys- and have failed miserably to get my point across.

I’ve mentioned, for example…her unnecessarily tight-fitting clothing...save the slutty outfits for Vegas, where they belong. Or... her topics of conversation- usually limited to working out and college sorority stories- "You have a cool job...tell him about that, or ask him about his... and try to steer clear of talking about your physco ex...."

But...it's Vegas so it's okay...

I've pointed out her unusual inability to talk in her “normal” voice when surrounded by a group of drooling idiots...and for crying out loud playing 80's music on the Jukebox does not make you seem like a cool chick- it makes you lip sync the wrong words to songs you barely know anyways.

 "Let's just get a beer so you don’t end up falling-down wasted within the first 45 minutes of  being at the bar...(as she orders another Vodka/Cran....)

Which brings me to my next suggestion…don’t look for your dream guy at the bar; in fact just stop looking. I think as women we somehow feel that it is our responsibility to FIND a guy. Afterall, they are too stupid to know what they want and how to get it so us women must carry the burden of guiding these lost and helpless souls to meet the woman of their dreams...

Unfortunately this is not the case.

I have been just as clueless, just as drunk and acting slightly desperate in my day so I am not at all suggesting that I am above the aforementioned. And it takes a long time for some of us to figure it out (including myself), but if you keep doing what you have always done, you will always end up where you have already been.

She goes on and on and starts discussing her tactics for what we all often times refer to dating as, “The Game”.

“He said he wasn’t trying to play games….” Yes I thought to myself, you said that earlier…

But when I hear the words “playing games” come out of your mouth- I know, you probably have been. In fact, if you’re the one utilizing that terminology in the conversation…you’ve been playing, refereeing, and keeping score in this “game”.

I would not be able to change her mind about giving Mr. Wrong another chance, but I felt like I finally had to be blunt about what I thought. Underneath her great boobs, pearly white smile, and sometimes dense conversational abilities….she was just like me and all the other women I know- who sincerely want and deserve a great guy, but who don't need to settle and don't NEED to find him tomorrow.

Pouty-face offender.

She doesn’t want to play games anymore; most of us hope to get the hell out of that crap post-college graduation, pre- cougar status.  And admittedly, if it wasn’t for the person I am with now, I would still be in the starting 5 of the peace-sign and pouty lips in every picture-too much eye makeup and not enough clothing or self-respect-lineup. 

For most of us there is hope- and although the likelihood of it happening is very slim...we just need a good friend to remind us that if we do become crazy single cat-ladies, it would put us better off than the woman who has more cleavage than brain cells, and has strategically doomed herself to become a closet-alcoholic housewife with an online shopping addiction.

So, the next time your best friend calls you with the same old story about the same stupid games, tell her that she might not get it yet- and you’ll be there for her until she does. And when she is ready to sub-out, you'll be waiting for her on the bench. 

30 days

"When she starts writing about you, it's over." He said, (he heard)


I'm in trouble.

I rolled my eyes so far back into my head they could have gotten stuck there-stopped dead staring into the knotted web of my fanatical brain.  A mild obsession perhaps, but when a week or two or ten go by… that little voice responsible for encouraging my good and bad decisions, the one that feebly attempts to navigate my uncharted mind, either whispers, screams and either way demands; you must write.

The phone conversation lasted for hours and by the end of it nothing was resolved, nobody slept- unless he lied, and the next day when he showed up the false cordiality of the evening made the room colder and my nails much, much shorter. I wasn't writing now because I was mad- I mean, I was mad but I didn't know about what or at whom- and I would quickly discover that it was not my turn to be mad- it was my turn to be sorry.

When people demand that you change-even if it truly is for the better, how fast can you get over yourself and into the state of mind that allows you to accept change as an outstretched hand of genuine concern rather than a violent shove of self-righteous judgment?

Well based on the state of my current circumstance, I have concluded that it takes me about 6 months or so.

Add on an extra week to admit that it was probably about 5 months too many. I say this because I firmly believe that based on the time allotted for so many other life-changing endeavors, 30 days should technically be an acceptable amount of time to, for lack of a better phrase; get your shit together.

30 day detox, lose 20 lbs in 30 days, 30 day photo challenge, 30 day countdown too(insert event most likely not deserving of any sort of countdown…) 30 days of community service...Jillian Michael’s 30 day shred, 30 day weather forecast…30 days…hath September? I don’t know how that last one relates but…30 days seems reasonable.

Per usual, I have allowed myself an inordinate amount of time to decide whether or not I was ready or willing to be…a little bit better than I was. Or maybe a lot-a-bit better. Nevertheless, I had spent way too much time keeping him guessing and ultimately keeping us from growing. And now, the decision was slipping out of my faltering hands and into the lap of the guy I essentially didn’t deserve-right now- and who essentially was saying just that.

When someone loves you they love all of you- even though you bite your nails and lose your keys and leave your cell phone everywhere except for in your purse, forget to call them back, always make them come to you, always wait till the last second to make plans, talk obsessively about your co-workers, order the most expensive thing on the menu and eat barely half of it, complain about their super douchey best friend every time they hang out together and….if you’re picking up what I’m putting down here-they just love you even though you’re probably a huge pain in the ass.

This makes me more than lucky. It has probably made me lucky before, but it didn’t mean anything to me then. So now- with essentially just luck on my side, I had to convince him that I didn’t start spilling out all my secrets because of something ending, it was the recognition of a new beginning that had made that little voice chirp.

Reassuring him that I wasn’t giving up on this and practically begging that he didn’t give up on me- was partially successful, I think. I had found myself too many times on the receiving end of this conversation  and I was finally coming to the humbling realization that I had been the reason I had been unhappy- and him too.

I had managed to make the last 6 months about me, myself and I...plus...more me. What I needed, what I wanted, what I was "ready" for and willing to do, what I deserved, what I expected,...Simon says.....do everything I say. 

Me... Demanding? Selfish? Bossy? Con....tro...l...I cant even finish the word because it is down right preposterous to imagine that I...was, an idiot. 

I desperately clung to a few small compromises I had made...that of course in my mind were enormous forfeitures of my identity, selflessly cast aside.... all for the betterment of this primarily one-sided relationship in which all my sacrifices benefited myself more than anybody else, really....  

I quit smoking, how dare you ask me to take better care of myself and ultimately improve my overall health and well-being!

I...kind of stopped biting my nails, sometimes. 

I practically never went out with all my rowdy friends that I 99.9% of the time did something catastrophically stupid with (best summer ever...?) 

I mean I HAVE BENT OVER BACKWARDS ...to change my behavior in a positive and constructive way...which if you ask me, is very unreasonable...

...Okay I see your point.

So, I gave up.

After a night of hearing everything I needed to hear- face to face- we slowly started making some headway. The list of specifics are probably the things we all change or consider changing (or fight about changing) in order to make a relationship work. We can be cliché, after all this is a blog, and remember that it is always a two-way street …it will take both of us to make it work- and you, or namely I in this case….may need to remind myself that sacrifice doesn’t have to mean complete surrender. 

Eventually all of us who are searching for love or who have love and want more from it- will end up on both sides of the spectrum. You will be told  by the person you love, that they need more or need different. and You will find yourself asking the person you love for something more or something different. And once you both accept each other- for being the huge pain in the ass that you are- you can start working on the things that really need to change, that really make or break a relationship, and mean the most to both of you.