Category Archives: Confessions

Confessions, Dating, Sorry I'm No Sorry

Valentine’s Day- Why You Need To Stop Being Bitter About It

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I get it.  Really, I do.  I have spent every Valentine’s Day of my life single.

Every.  Single.  One.

When your a kid, Valentine’s Day isn’t nearly as traumatic.  Because it wasn’t about having a boyfriend- it was about candy.  Your entire class was basically your Valentine.  We were all in it together, making our way around the classroom, dutifully dropping our Valentine’s into each other’s handcrafted boxes, so ornately decorated that even Lisa Frank would have been proud.  Even the weird kid in the back that ate his own hair felt the love (even if he did get the crappiest cards out of the bunch….).  That shit was exhausting, writing out 30-something Valentines.  Unless you were lucky, and had an adult on hand to help you out.  The only real stress was determining who would be lucky enough to get an actual personalized paragraph written on the back along with some badass hearts drawn on it, or the simple “xoxo, Libby”.

( Cause I don’t care what the situation is, there will still always be a hierarchy….)

But then you get older.  And just like everything else in life, Valentine’s Day turns into serious shit.  Instead of a scale that was once used to innocently determine one’s popularity, it somehow becomes a scale to determine one’s entire self-worth.

Which is completely ridiculous.

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Mainly, because the only thing that has changed to create this absurd standard is nothing more than our own way of thinking, and not the actual meaning of the day itself.   Of course the day is about love.  But why have we made it all about being loved by one person, a significant other, and not about being loved in general?

Or even better- why isn’t it about celebrating the fact that you have people in your life to love?

Like many others, I have spent the majority of my life with the belief that if I wasn’t in love, I just simply wasn’t allowed to participate in this holiday. I was permanently benched. I might as well be the kid in the back of the classroom eating my hair.  Or even worse, if you did happen to be casually dating someone, it instantly places an awkward pressure on both of you by creating the sudden need to hastily define your situation.  The dreaded D.T.R.  Which, by the way, also explains why so many people break up just prior to the big day.  If the day isn’t going to be all about roses, burning passion and undying love, then it’s going to be about chick flicks, ice cream, and defiant rage.

In other words, its one extreme or the other.  Blissfully in love, or bitterly single.  Long stemmed roses or double shots of tequila.  Pink or black.  There is no in between come February 14th.

Or is there?

Well, if you have anyone in your life to be even remotely thankful for, there is.

Lets go back to the grade school thing.  You know, when a silly Valentine and some candy hearts was all it took to satisfy your innocent little heart.  And it was fun simply to acknowledge having one another in our lives.  No fancy dinner reservations required.  No future plans to get married needed to give a girl some chocolate.

Sure, if you’ve found the love of your life (and you both need to be equal participants in this conclusion) then go ahead and go crazy.  I hope you come home that night to a rose petal trail that leads to your man in a candle lit bubble bath.  Cause for the record, that would be my idea of celebrating.

But what if you haven’t found that person yet?

Well, so fucking what?  I can think of plenty of things in my life that make me feel all warm and fuzzy.  Most of which are accessories, but still…  My point is, think about all the amazing people you do have in your life.  And then think of all the things you’ve been able to achieve because of them.  Think of all the motivation their encouragement has inspired in your life.  THOSE are your real MVP’s.  And I honestly cant think of a better time to tell them how much you appreciate them, in the corniest way possible.  Stop making the day about you, and what you don’t have in your life, and turn it into a celebration of who you are beyond blessed to already have in it- whether its a friend, a friend with benefits, or family.  If they do anything to make you a better, happier person, then use today as an opportunity to count your blessings, and show them some love.  Send them a Valentine.  Take your BFF for a mani/pedi.  Schedule a massage for your mom.  And at the end of the day, you can still have the bubble bath.

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So while I do look forward to the day that I get to share this ridiculously lame holiday with my future person (I refuse to use the word “soulmate”…), I’m also not going to sit on the sidelines while I wait.  Instead, I’m going to wear pink.  Lots of pink.  And eat chocolate.  Lots of fucking chocolate.  That I will have bought for myself.  And I’m going to take that bubble bath (…but to be fair, I probably wont be solo on that one).  And for those that have made me a better person this year- my real MVP’s- you better check your mailbox.  Because cheesy Valentine’s Day humor is on the way.

So take the pressure off yourself this Valentine’s Day.  And anyone else who may be in your life currently.  Stop using the day as a tool to define your relationships.  And just enjoy the day for what it is- a day of love.  For anyone, and everyone.

Except for our Ex’s, of course.

#SorryNotSorry

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So Happy Valentine’s Day, dolls!  Because above all, however you choose to spend it, or whomever you spend it with, I hope the day is just as beautiful as you are.

X

#BombshellCode, Confessions, Sorry I'm No Sorry

2016: We Need To Talk

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2016 may go down for many of us as the worst year in history.

Like any other year, we lost another wave of musical icons.  Only this time it felt more personal.  Legends like Bowie, Prince and George Michael all took their final bows, leaving us reeling, and mourning in ways one might mourn the passing of a blood relative.  I took Prince’s the hardest, shedding tears for days at the mere mention of his name.

For the first time in my life, it was as though part of my adolescence had died too.

We also had tragedies this year.  Tragedies on scales unfathomable to most of us for the first time since 9/11.

Brussels.  Pulse.  Nice.  Berlin.

Tragedies that once again left me afraid to live my daily life.  Or, at least, wanted me to be afraid.  But after losing 3 friends at Pulse on that horrifying June night, I made the silent vow to never, ever be afraid again.  I vowed to never allow their deaths to have been in vain, and to walk with unwavering courage, every day, in their memory.

I vowed to never let hate win, by exuding love and acceptance in it’s place.

And then there was the election…

The election that would offer to us a new President that will no doubt challenge my aforementioned vows to the very core.  Without getting too political, the division and fear this country has felt ever since has been enough to make my heart ache.  And once again, for the first time, I’m dealing with a new set of feelings: Anxiety has replaced excitement when I think about the future.  At least, for the next 4 years.

Simply put, 2016 seemed like a bad dream that none of us have been able to wake from.

So what does this mean for us, since this all is, in fact, our reality?

It means we persevere.

We grow.

And we take any of those current voids in our adolescences created by these events, and we fill them in with a renewed hope and passion for the things and the people we love.

And we make 2017 the year we come out stronger, by coming together.  We replace bullying with encouragement.  Hate with understanding.  And rejection with sympathy.

Case in point- my New Year’s resolution has nothing to do with me specifically.  Instead, I chose to make an effort impacting others in small but sincere ways.  Through compliments.  And while I recognize this is hardly earth shattering, I also know the difference this small gesture can make in someone’s day.  Remember the video of the little girl telling the old man that she “liked his face”?  Okay, so while that exact statement may not be my particular method, the genuineness of the act is exactly what this world needs more of.

Because at the end of the day one thing will always remain true: Life is beautiful.  And we only have ourselves to blame for any inadequacies or injustices we may feel about our current situations.  The truth is, you never needed a new year to take charge of your life, or to make positive impacts on the lives around you.   Quit the job that you hate.  Walk away from any negative energy.  And forget about anyone who is incapable of seeing your value.

The biggest lesson from this year is how short life really is. 

And as for the days when it seems like its a losing battle, well, just remember the words of the great George Michael-

You gotta have faith.

X

#BombshellCode, Confessions, Dating, Sorry I'm No Sorry

What came first, the relationship or the egg?

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Okay, so forgive the Easter pun here.

But since today’s holiday is basically centered around the idea of someone rising from the dead, I cant think of anything that’s harder for our generation to believe in than…

love.

Its true- we find the idea of love harder to grasp than the idea of someone rising from the dead.  Because we also happen to be a generation where many find entertainment in preparing for a zombie apocalypse.  So not only do we believe in it, we’re pretty much banking on it.

And honestly, the odds of me surviving an apocalypse are probably far better than my odds of getting married.  Or at least, getting married one time and having that marriage last forever.  And that’s pretty discouraging considering my only plan for zombie survival involves barricading myself in Barney’s, and happily living out the rest of my existence in couture.  If time permits, I might even hit up a liquor store beforehand.

No, really- that’s pretty much my plan.  So if you want to join me, bring food.

But back to my original point- Today, its love that has somehow become the miracle, where we need to see it to truly believe it.

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But how will we even know it when we see it?  In other words, what comes first- the relationship, or the love?  Being someone that was raised on the idea that loves come first, I’ve pretty much gone through life expecting to meet someone, and somehow just knowing that they were “the one”.   You know, the whole “love at first sight” theory.  Except it hasn’t happened yet.  So its made me think that maybe love isn’t something that is quite so instant and obvious.  Maybe love is something that is brought slowly to life over the course of a relationship, through a series of shared experiences and consistency.  In which case, maybe love is simply the byproduct of trust?

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So what does happen when we meet someone?  Maybe its not love at first sight, but its something, right?  There has to be some reason that makes you want to continue seeing someone.  Or at the very least, continue to eat food with them (since that’s what a lot of dating is).  Maybe it is love at first sight, or… maybe its just lust.  Or maybe, there’s just something about them, recognizable only to you.   Researchers have suggested pheromones could be the culprit- apparently we all have our own unique scent, that only our “person” is able to detect.   So not only do you have a fingerprint, you also have an “odorprint”.   Which means love could literally be in the air between two people.  Romantic?  Yes.  Helpful?  Not so much, since sniffing someone is considered rude.  Plus, these scents are generally undetectable, and only reach us on a subconscious level.

Moving on.

Maybe many of us have simply lost our belief in love as a result of our unrealistic expectations?  Everything about our society today is based on instant gratification.  Results need to be immediate for anything to be considered a victory.  Where patience was once considered a virtue, its now no longer something we’ll even consider.  We invest in liposuction over a gym membership, fast food over cooking, texts over phone calls, and one night stands over relationships.  So why wouldn’t our feelings eventually begin to work on the same demanding schedule?  Instead of getting to know someone over time, and slowly falling in love with the person for who they really are, we force the process and “fall in love” with the idea of who we want them to be.

I think I’m on to something here…

Going from personal experience, I have been a victim of this pattern countless times.  And I’ll justify my use of the word “victim” here in just a second.  You see, I’m not a serial dater.  I just don’t see the benefit in dating more than one person at a time.  One, its hard enough for me to find time to properly adult most days, let alone play games.  Two, I actually enjoy learning about someone.  And Three, I believe above all we need to actually be the person we want to date.  So I’ll invest time with someone until it no longer works out.  And this is where the word “victim” comes in.  Because usually it stops working once the man I’m seeing slowly starts to morph into the man he actually is.  He reverts.  The impressive standard he set in the beginning with his actions begins to drastically lower.  His priorities start to include things that were never a factor before.  Words stop becoming actions.  And finally, the things that were so consistent initially are now irrelevant.  Usually the magic words “I love you” have been spoken at this point- probably as a way to deflect attention from everything else that is disappointing you.  Except I never say “I love you” back- instead, I walk away.

 There was no love at first sight, and there was no love created over time.  In other words- he wasn’t “the one”.  And no one should ever remain with someone because it feels better to them than being alone.  Or because its convenient.  Or worse- because you think its the kind of relationship you deserve.  Obviously, its not fair to either party.  But more importantly, being with the wrong person actually IS worse than being alone.  Staying with the wrong person means you’re eliminating any possibility of meeting the person who IS everything you want.  And that’s the most exciting idea to someone who is single.  Regardless of whether love is instant or not, it is something you deserve.

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So while I cant be sure what comes first- the love, or the relationship- I DO know that the presence of it is all that really matters.  So keep dating.  Stay positive.  Have fun.  Don’t let the pressures of how you think love is supposed to work determine your worth to anyone- including yourself.  Walk away from anything that doesn’t make you happy.

Because when you keep your heart open and available to it, love will eventually find you.  And just like your “odorprint” it will be up to you, and only you, to recognize it.

Liberata Dolce fashion blogger stylist love relationships spring 2016 dating

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…

I’m on the pursuit of happiness…

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New Years is always an interesting time.  Some see it as an ending, others a new beginning.  Both as a fresh start.  Or, you just see it as an opportunity to buy a new outfit, drink champagne and make out in public acceptably.

I personally am all for the new dress part.

But above all, I see it as a time of reflection.  A way to summarize how I’ve grown by the lessons I learned.  And with that comes a chance to develop an action plan.  Call it a Bucket List for personal growth.  For instance, some days I think I have this whole adulting thing nailed.  I made it to work, I drank actual water, AND I did laundry.  Go me.  And then there are days where I eat ice cream straight from the container with the freezer open and refuse to put on pants.  And in all honesty- that will most likely be my game plan tomorrow.  But pants or no pants, I’d still like to think that I’ve evolved into a slightly better version of myself over the last year.  That I’ve gained a slightly higher awareness of who I am, what I can contribute, and who I still have yet to be.

Its called acceptance.

And its not easy.

Its not easy to accept that you spent another year dating guys that broke your heart.  Its not easy to accept that you didn’t make time for that epic roadtrip to California.  And its definitely not easy to accept that you lost some friends along the way, and you’re not even sure why.

But it happened.  All of it.  And you have to stop asking why.  Life is too short for that.

And start asking:  How are you going to use this to learn?  To grow?  To be better?  To try harder?

And, most importantly, is this the year you’re finally going to stop kissing douchebags?  Probably not, but still….

And so New Year’s is the time you take all the things that happened over the last year, the good AND the bad, and you put it behind you.  And you carry on with only the lessons.  Pants, or no pants.

You cancel and continue.

Below are the lessons I’m taking with me into the new year.  And who knows, maybe this will be the year I finally meet someone, creating the most electric “Power Couple” since Becks and Posh.

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Or maybe I’ll keep eating ice cream in my underwear.

Either way, I’ll be just fine…

And you will be too.

…

And now, my observations from my always beautiful-yet-slightly-confusing pursuit of happiness thus far….

Do what makes you happy.  Whatever it is.  People will criticize you either way.  Accept it, erase it, and move on.  It usually has nothing to do with you, but is rather a reflection of their own unhappiness.

Look for the highlight of your day, every day.  Some are harder to find than others, but I promise- there will be at least one moment, every day, where you’ll find happiness in simply being alive.  And that alone is worth it all.

Let it be.  Whatever it is you’re holding on to- hurt, resentment, jealousy.  Its in the past now.  Keep it there.

Live in the present.  In everything you do.  Living in the past leads to depression.  And waiting on the future creates anxiety.  But being in the now could be pure magic- should you allow it.

My mother is my best friend.  As I get older, it becomes increasingly clear how defining her love and guidance has been, and continues to be, in my life.  Her love for me continues to amaze me.  As does her patience.

Figure out what defines you.  And own it.  Then figure out how you can use it to help others.

You are enough.  Whoever you are at this moment.  Don’t ever let anyone tell you otherwise.  Walk away from anyone who makes you doubt your worth.

Trust your gut.  If you’re still in doubt, Google it.

If it doesn’t make sense, its probably not true.  Its as simple as that.

Wear your heart on your sleeve.  Don’t be afraid of who you are.  Or how you feel.  The people that are meant to be in your life will only value you more for it.

At the same time, knowledge is power.  Be careful with what you dispense to others.  And remember that those who talk to you, will talk about you.

Be the person you want to date.  If you want honestly, give it.  If you want love, exude it.  If you want a one night stand, go on Tinder.

Say what you mean, mean what you say.  Even those with nothing still have the value of their word.  Don’t cheapen yourself.  Or sell yourself short.

When in doubt, over-dress.  Always.

Give.  Whatever you can.  As much as you can.  Even if its just your time, I promise that there is someone out there who needs it.

Get to know your body.  Love every inch of it.  Do everything you can to take care of it.  And let no one disrespect it.  It is the greatest tool you will ever own.

Stop saying “I’m sorry” all the time.  Save it for the times when you truly mean it.  People will take it a lot more seriously.

Slow down.  You will be amazed at all the incredible things around you, literally ALL THE TIME… if you just take a minute to see them.  People ARE still good.  Miracles DO happen.  And wishes DO come true.

With the right chemistry, kissing is bliss.  And cuddling is heaven.  But doing either with just anyone will only leave you feeling cheated.

Choose wisely.  When faced with a difficult decision, ask yourself which consequence you would rather live with.  Go with that one.

Perception is reality.  So pay attention.  Make sure that the projection of your own self is something you’re happy with.

Remain optimistic.  Especially with love.  You’re going to get hurt.  But don’t let it make you cynical.  Keep your heart open.  But protect it with all you got.

Don’t worry about what everyone else is doing.  The race is long.  And in the end, its only with yourself.

If a boy wants to see you, he will see you.  That goes for calling, texting and any other form of communication including smoke signals.  End of story.

Make some art.  Whatever art is to you.  Do it.  Indulge in your creativity.  It is the most personal and unique imprint you can leave behind.  It will also most likely be the most cherished after you are gone.

Find someone you can be free with.  Sexually, emotionally, physically, spiritually- and go fucking WILD.

But….

Be careful with who you exchange energy with.  You can give a lot away while seeing very little in return.  Reevaluate anyone or anything in your life that consistently leaves you feeling drained.  Cut your losses and move on.

Learn how to communicate again.  Stop texting.  Be authentic.  Make time to be genuine to those you care about.

Not everyone is going to know how to receive your energy.  Make peace with that and move on.  Never dull your shine for the sake of someone else.

Don’t be scared.  Or anything.  Or anyone.

Be kind.  It will always be better to build someone up, rather than tear them down.

Travel.  There are some lessons that can only be learned by taking yourself out of your comfort zone.  These will be the lessons you will appreciate the most.

People change.  Some for the good, some not so much.   Only you can decide which one.  Then keep it to yourself.  Not everyone will take the same path as you.  And that’s a beautiful thing.

Smile.  Even when you think you cant, you can.  Not only will you feel better, but you might help someone else out too.  A lot of great things started with just a smile…

It really is the simple things.  I’m talking about nature.  Watch a meteor shower.  Go to the beach at night.  Hike every chance you get.  Your soul will thank you.

Bob Marley’s 3 Little Birds.  Live it, learn it, love it.  Make it your anthem.  Listen to it in the morning.  Let it set the standard for your day.

Most of the apologies you’re waiting to hear will never happen.  Forgive them anyways.  At the same time, ask yourself if anyone is waiting on yours.

Its okay to be single.  Its also okay to feel lonely at times.  Both are temporary.

And finally-

You have done SO much better than you give yourself credit for.  At the end of the day…or year, in this case, we all have things we wish we could change.  Or do over.  Or do again.  There are people we will miss.  And people we hope we never see again.  But when you break it all down, and see all the experiences you went through, I hope it hits you-

You’re still here.

You survived.  And you came out a stronger, better, wiser person for it.

So keep trying.  Keep fighting.  Keep believing in love.  Keep planning your roadtrip.  Keep banning pants.  And above all, keep being a good person.  Because if for nothing else, go into the new year believing this-

For whatever you put out, the universe will give you back 3 fold in return.

Its the Law of Attraction, darling.

And I’m all about that life.

Now go drink some champagne, cheers to life, and manifest something amazing for yourself.

And have a fabulous New Year- may it be your best year yet.

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Confessions, Dating, Sorry I'm No Sorry

Online Dating- Welcome to Hell

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If you have found yourself single at any point in time during this last century, then you have no doubt put yourself through the ultimate form of social torture we call online dating.

You also probably did this because you heard about a friend of a friend, who somehow found the man of their dreams this way.  They bonded over their mutual love for wine tastings and cooking, and the wedding is this fall.  Apparently, it was love at first site.  Its the adult urban legend.

But that was all you needed to hear as you mentally wrote out your “About Me”.  You picture someone with the charm of George Clooney and the abs of Channing Tatum reaching out to you, begging to take you out for dinner.  Obviously it will be love at first sight, and blissfully you’ll delete your accounts, together, while watching the sunset.  And then YOU will be the next success story, told by your friend to another friend.

Except it hardly ever works out that way.  Let me just clarify that for you now.

Now, I’m not saying there aren’t success stories.  There really are people in my life getting married as a result.  Think of the toast- “It all began when John sent Jane a wink…”.  But I AM saying that there are a lot of horror stories that you must first be willing to subject yourself to first.

In a world oversaturated by social media, we could only expect that our love lives would eventually become involved.  It is no longer suspected, but rather expected now that before a first date, your name has already been googled, your Facebook stalked, and all previous boyfriends sized up.

And as a result, your first impression was made looooong before you even set eyes on each other.

Suddenly it doesn’t seem so romantic now, does it?

As you may have already guessed, I myself am on a dating site.  Though I am slightly unusual in the sense that I only belong to one.  Current statistics will show most people join at least 3.  I’m not sure where exactly people find the time for that, but I applaud their efforts (that is, hopefully, its effort and not just the desperation to get laid).  Like most young professionals, I made the decision to join because I was “busy”.  And MAJORLY over the bar scene.  Plus, it seemed like a harmless way to put yourself out there without having to actually put yourself out there.  At first it was kind of like window shopping for men.

It.  Was.  Awesome.

I could look all I wanted, communicate only if I was interested, and ultimately save myself A LOT of time.  And bad dates.

Except men aren’t shoes.  And judging someone off of a self-written profile is about as stupid as believing their pictures accurately describe how they will really look in person.  No, seriously.  I learned pretty quickly that 6 ft really means 5’10.  Athletic Build really means Average, and Average really means A Few Extra Pounds.  Oh- and 36 sometimes meant he’s turning 40 next month.  Sometimes even 45 (ew…).  But even if all the information wasn’t totally accurate, it was still enough to paint a general picture of someone in my mind.  It was still enough for me to decide whether or not I wanted to try him on for size, so to speak.  And as a result, I found myself becoming way too critical, judging men solely on their looks and/or jobs.  Receiving tons of messages, I responded only to those that met my standards.  And that was exactly how I realized my standards were bullshit.

So its no surprise that the dates I did go on were terrible.  Well, most of them.  I actually did meet some great people, some of which are still good friends.  But in all fairness- I didn’t join to make friends.  I joined for the hope of meeting “the one”.  My potential other half.  Because I want to be part of a true Power Couple- both hustling and living their dreams, together.

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But all I really found were the exact types of men I purposely avoided in my day to day life: men that were womanizers, men that just wanted to get laid, men that were rebounding, men that were lazy… and even men that were only looking for green cards.  And yes- you read that right.

So why do we continue to use them?  Well that’s easy- because we have no other choice.  The days of meeting your future husband in the grocery store are over.  You can stop fantasizing about running into him in line at Starbucks.  Forget locking eyes with him at Happy Hour.  And why is that?  Because he will most likely be looking at his phone, checking his inbox, flirting with 15 different girls on his 3 separate accounts, musing about who will put out first as he breezes right past you.  Or because you’ll be too busy looking at yours, texting the same loser for the last week who’s really just too uninterested in you to commit to an actual date to even notice anyone else.  Because we no longer live in the present, and instead fixate on any other form of communicating with one another other than actual communication.

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And so even though my results have been less than impressive, my profile still exists.  Even if its only for the sake of dating etiquette- if you’re single, its expected.  In fact, its really the only way to declare yourself as “available” to others.  Because its the only way people even know how to even inquire.

And really- because I still believe in the possibility.

That’s right.

Just the other night that belief was reaffirmed when I took a chance and met someone for coffee.  I was already exhausted, and it would have been easy for me just to pass.  But at the same time, I knew if I didn’t continue to try, I might as well just accept a life full of being exhausted now.  And I’m NOT the girl who quits.  And guess what?  For the first time in a long time I was able to simply enjoy ones company.  No drinking, no bragging, no interview-style questions.  Just two people, in the moment, with the simple desire to learn more about one another (and in the end, maybe rip each others clothes off too- lets be serious here).  And while there’s no telling where it will go, and too early to even guess, it was enough to restore my faith in the whole process.  Enough to believe we are still capable of focusing on one individual, and for the right reasons.  That we can still communicate, person to person.  That we can connect- and in so many amazing ways (ways that your phone certainly cant do for you…).  And while I still have visions of deleting my profile for good, it wont be because I simply gave up- It will be an act of no longer declaring myself as available.  Sunset optional.

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LUSTstoned – Style… or Substance?

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LUSTstoned

Having promised to always be honest with you, I’ll admit that I can be a little… superficial.  I’ve chosen style over practicality (and rationalism) many times.  I mean, come on- have you seen my shoes??  So its no surprise that I’m probably guilty of choosing the men I date in the same fashion.  See what I did there?

I like the bad boys.  The rockstars.  The charismatic ones that specialize in seducing.  And ultimately destroying.  They’re charming, passionate, and intriguing.  Their sex appeal is intoxicating.  Being the object of desire to these men is like slipping into a brand new pair of Louboutin’s.  Convinced I can match they’re complexity, it gives me a natural high.  I’m not love stoned- I’m LUST stoned.  I call these men “enigmatic”.  You, on the other hand, would probably call them an asshole.  I will eventually end up calling them that too.  Except its usually after the storm.  And just like hurricanes, they each have their own name.  Some are more catastrophic than others.  But the same warning signs are always there.  And I’m the idiot that refuses to evacuate and later needs to be airlifted to safety.  And by airlifted, I mean drink wine and vowing to never date again.  Until the next one comes along.  Because who knows- maybe he could really be the one??

LOL.  Right.

I think I’ve been too busy treating men like accessories.

So here’s the real question- Why?

Well, before we can even try to answer that, lets get to the good stuff first.  A look at a few of my recent examples.  After all, if this is going to turn into a case study, you should be equipped with the proper information.  That, or at the very least, it will bring you some great entertainment.

CASE STUDY #1:  Hurricane Rockstar

Hands down, the Rockstar is, and always will be, my personal drug of choice.  There’s something about a man with a guitar that eliminates all logic in my body and replaces it with pure stupidity.  And like a true addict, I’ve dabbled in every field.  From coffee house crooners, to Grammy winning A-Listers, they all leave me unable to process and react to their actions the way I would with other men.  Instead, I chalk up their bad behavior to their bad boy way of life.  Like being a musician of any sort gives them a get-out-of-jail-free card for being a dick.  They’re not being unreasonable and selfish- they’re brooding and mysterious.  They’re not broke- they’re starving artists, refusing to give up on their passion.  Its endearing.  Its admirable.  Its sexy.

ITS ALSO A FUCKING JOKE.

And I’m proud to say my last rockstar was the one that finally landed me in rehab.  For good.  Unlike Amy Winehouse, I was screaming, “Yes, Lord, YASSSSSS!”.   You see, I have this ridiculous habit of giving people way more credit than they deserve.  I’m totally ignorant in the sense that I believe the person they are presenting to me is who they really are.  And above all, I truly believe they are simply incapable of being cruel to me.  Until they are.  Yes, I’m that stupid.  Or that hopeful.  I’m not sure which yet.  But I DO know this- when someone share’s your personal conversations for another woman to respond to, you need to erase that person from your life.  Immediately.  Because they either have the maturity of a 13 year old, the respect of a 5 star douchebag, or severe self-esteem issues.  Because nothing remains more true than this- hurt people hurt people.   All it takes is one very harsh look at reality, and an intelligent, handsome rockstar morphs instantly into someone who probably doesn’t care much about anyone but himself.  And while I may be clueless with men, I am ON POINT with my standards in love.

With the quality of people I want in my life.

And, above all, the respect I deserve.

So in conclusion, someone so unhappy with their own life has absolutely no place in mine, guitar or not.  Case closed.

CASE STUDY #2:  Hurricane Full of Shit

I’m ashamed to even be talking about this one.  Really.  And I’m inviting any of you to come and slap me for even entertaining this tool as long as I did.  And here, gentlemen, is where I will dispense the greatest piece of dating advice a girl can offer-

Never, EVER set the standard of the first date higher than what you plan to maintain after.

Case in point: Yacht Boy (as I shall refer to him) had pursued me for a while.  Seeing him as wholesome and serious, I of course dodged every attempt like Mayweather in the ring.  But he never quit.  And as fate would have it, I ran into him one night.  We ended up talking- really talking.  And much to my surprise, we had a lot in common.  It was then that I started to realize that maybe all the things about him I had initially run from were exactly what I needed.  He was going to be out of town for a while, but we agreed to get together as soon as he got back.  Of course, during his time away, we texted and shared pictures.  Not of our bodies, but of our actual lives.  Things that were important.  It was…. nice.

We made plans for the day he returned home.  Yep, you read that right.  I wont lie- it felt incredibly good to have someone that was so excited to see me.  He literally was driving, across states, to take me out.  Understandably, he ended up running a little late.  Given the effort, I didn’t mind one bit.  When he picked me up (Yes, you also read THAT right- picked me up) he apologized, explaining that upon his arrival home, he was greeted to absolutely no power at his place.  Wanting to keep his plans with me, he simply showered (a very cold shower in a very dark bathroom) and was out the door.  Everything else he would deal with later.   Whoa.  Wait.  Say what??   I’ve had to ask guys to change into actual jeans just to go out, because no, joggers are not acceptable date attire.  And this guy risked hypothermia for me?  And think about shaving- I knick myself just looking at a razor, let alone sliding it along my body in the dark.  So I’m thinking this guy is even an absolute gentlemen, or a total fucking idiot.

Idiot would eventually win.  It always does.

So as you probably guessed, we had a great date.  So much so it led to a second date.  At his place.  With power, of course.  Wanting to show off his culinary skills, he cooked a full course dinner and even made homemade ice cream for me.  I know, I know- its almost too good.  We would see each other a few more times after that, but something started to happen.  Or, everything started to happen.  To him.  It seemed like making plans were impossible because he was sick.  Or going out of the country.  Or out of state.  Or a family member had died.  Or multiple.  No really.  Like, 2 in one week, I believe?  Now, I might be a total asshole for saying this, but I call Bullshit.  You’re either a terrible liar, or the unluckiest person around.  Either way, its safe to say that you just got filed back into my “No Thank You” file.  But EVERY FREAKIN TIME I shut that damn thing, he would come along, and say something to get my attention.  Again.  He knew how to keep me at just the right distance to string me along.  And so the cycle began.  He would set something up.  I would believe him.  Because he couldn’t possibly do it again.  And then HE WOULD DO IT AGAIN.  In fact, at the end, I think the only real reason I would even agree to see him was just to prove myself right about him.  That he was a liar.  And finally I summoned the courage to point out to him what I had already accepted.  I reminded him of his effort on our first date.  That he had set his own standard when it came to me.  That he had kept his word and put me first when we set plans.  And that he had failed miserably in ever reaching it again.

And I don’t date failures.

Bye, Felicia.  Another case closed.

CASE STUDY #3:  Hurricane HeadCase

I wont go into too much detail with this guy.  Because unlike the others, this one actually hurt me.  The others were comical (after the fact) and were certainly valuable lessons.  But this one- I cant really explain what happened.  Or why.  Other than to say that some people are just bad.  And probably have bigger issues going on in their lives than we will ever understand.  You see, this was the guy that made the effort.  And then went beyond it.  When we talked, he didn’t just listen to me- he took notes.  And would surprise me with things later.  Like my favorite movie.  Or a pillow I saw in a shop when we were out on a casual stroll.  When I was sick, he made hour long trips just to bring me soup and ice cream- only to then snuggle me, letting me fall asleep on his lap.  When it got too late, he would take me to bed, and would leave only after I had fallen asleep.  One of the last times I saw him, we watched the sunset at the beach and downloaded stargazing aps.  We spent the rest of the night talking about like and looking at constellations, among a few other late night beach activities.  It was also the night he told me how he “really, really, really, really, really, really wanted this to work”.  And I did too.  No question about it.  He told me what he needed from me, and I agreed.

And then he disappeared.

He went total ghost.  It was, quite honestly, one of the most indescribable feelings to experience.  A little anger, a little disbelief, a little sadness.  All mixed with confusion.  And hurt.  It was a definitive moment where I had opened myself up.  Became a little vulnerable.  And let the walls down just a bit.  And got smacked down hard.  And all because I actually believed him.  And started to explore my feelings towards him.  And why wouldn’t I?

Easy- because I’m a normal, compassionate, loving human being.  I don’t promise rose gardens to unsuspecting victims.  I don’t stir up feelings in individuals just to stroke my own ego.  And I certainly do not intentionally hurt others just to fill some void in my life.  Maybe he was unhappy, and I was a temporary cure.  When his ego was sufficiently inflated, there was no longer room for me. I’m sure whatever the reason was, it was justifiable to him.  Otherwise, I believe I would have gotten an “I’m sorry” at one point.  But like most sociopaths, I know now that day will never come.

So as much as I would like to blame all these guys, the obvious similarity they all have…. is me.  So it brings me to my original question- do I choose these men because I truly see them as potential partners.  Or are they all just glittery accessories, comfortable in the sense that I already have a good idea how it will end.  And therefore, I never have to get too invested.  I never need to get to a point where I can see them as a Potential Maybe, instead of a Inevitable Storm.

Personally, I think in the end, I’m still hoping for the Potential Maybe, that’s just lost in the Inevitable Storm.  The storms we as females all have to go through.  Because like a good margarita, I doubt we would appreciate the sweet nearly as much without the sour.

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#BombshellCode, Confessions, Model Life, Sorry I'm No Sorry

The Flake State- Sorry I’m Not Sorry….

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Flakes.

Its bad enough as a single female, I have to deal with flakey men.  And, like, a LOT of flakey men.

But as a model, I also went ahead and added flakey photographers into my life.  I mean, why not?  YOLO!  In addition to that, you can probably double the amount the average model deals with.  Because I live in Florida.  Also known in the industry as-

The Flake State.

And before you Photographers get all bent out of shape, I acknowledge models are just as guilty at performing this charming act of unprofessionalism.  But here’s the problem I have with this situation.  It seems as though Models are the ONLY guilty ones.  At least, from the stories I hear.  And for a while I believed that was the case.  The same way I used to believe in Santa Clause.  Or unicorns.  Or that you can still have a relationship with someone you slept with on the first date.  There I was, silently giving myself a gold star for my squeaky clean attendance record.  Cause I was NOT getting one for my dating record.  Obviously…

And then…. something happened.

But first, let me add, I promised when this site launched that names would never be used- I have no desire to blast anyone.  I strongly believe that anything that cant be said to someone’s face is most likely an emotional thought, rather than factual.  And therefore, irrelevant.  But lets face it- if they’ve done it to me, they’ve done it to others.  And eventually, they create their own reputation.  So me trying to trash them would simply be a waste of my time.  And truth and time eventually DOES tell all.  But at the same time, I have zero problem sharing my experiences.

So lets take a look at those.

Starting with the first time I realized I had made a huge mistake in judgment. Not once.  Not even twice.  But THREE times.  Yeah, I know, I bet my single status is starting to make more sense now, huh?  But back to the original point.  This particular photographer was new to the area.  When he reached out to me for a TF shoot, I was hooked.  His work was perfect- a little edgy, but feminine.  And his use of natural light was flawless.  Though he was known for his work in Fitness and Glamour, he was striving to shoot more Fashion.  And I was desperate for Editorial (a hard thing to find in a state known for GWC’s and tacky sunset/bikini shoots).  It was perfect.

Way ahead of the game, having already tapped into my bohemian side before it was a trend, I pulled pieces for a shoot that would make any gypsy soul jealous.  Arm cuffs, kimonos, vintage sequined gowns- the options were literally limitless.  I even sacrificed one of my own couture gowns by wearing it in the ocean while the sun went down behind me.  Totally worth it.  For the record- that’s MY kind of sunset shoot.  Hundreds of images were shot in a span of 4 hours and 5 looks.

Needless to say, I was beyond excited to receive images of our work.  He warned me he wasn’t the fastest at editing, to which I had no problem with.  I tell everyone I work with- I don’t care how long it takes you, as long as give me what you promise, by when you promise.

Would you like to know how many images I received from that day?

2.

2 fucking images.

In case you didn’t read that right, I’ll say it again- 2.

Of course, in the time it took to receive those TWO images, I shot with him two more times.  Because I was still stupid then.  And I received ONE image from each of those shoots.  Let me clarify that once more time for the cheap seats in the back- ONE IMAGE PER SHOOT.

So, lets summarize my first lesson in flaking:

3 shoots in all.  We’ll ballpark those at 8 hours total shooting time.  10 – 12 looks in all.  We wont even go into prep time (hair/makeup), or the time it took to actually find and piece together each look.  Oh, wait- how about packing and unpacking everything?  And then there’s the gown I ruined.  For nothing.

Wait, I’m sorry- let me correct myself.  It wasn’t for “nothing”.  It was for 4 images.  Of which 2 of those I actually use in my portfolio.

Needless to say, there will never be a 4rth shoot.

But wait- we’re not done yet.

Lets fast forward to a year later.  Feeling a little more seasoned, and armed with that charming experience, I’m a little more cautious selecting photographers.  Or, so I think.  It turns out I was still too incredibly stupid for my own good.  Here’s Lesson #2…..

Again, I’m contacted by a photographer.  Again, one that shoots a lot of Fitness, but has an eye for edgy concepts.  Part boudoir, part fine art.  In other words, I like what I see.  He tells me he’ll be in my area in the next week so we schedule a day to shoot.  I show up, armed with enough wardrobe and accessories that would satisfy all 3 Kardashians.  We shoot for about 4, maybe 5 hours, using 6 looks in all.  It is agreed that I will receive 2 images per look.  We spend a little time going through them before I leave- the excitement over what we captured was obvious.  While reviewing them, he opens up to me about his frustration with his visit to Tampa.  He had booked multiple shoots during his visit there, however, as it would turn out, I was the only model to show.  The others had all flaked.  All of them.  Huh??

I was shocked.  Or rather, disappointed.  Disappointed in the reputation these other models were creating for not only our area, but our industry.  How does someone do that?  Especially on someone so talented?  So easy to work with?  So fun?

I’ll tell you how.  Maybe they didn’t flake at all.  Maybe they just found out something about this guy I hadn’t.  Before they could waste their time, money and wardrobe on someone who had no interest in delivering the results they were promised.  Because in the end, I would receive a mere 3 images.

THREE.

Two of which are basically the same shot.

Now I should add I was careful never to nag anyone.  In fact, this particular photographer bragged about how he purposely ignored and withheld images from models who annoyed him.  Noted.  Plus, I have no interest in images edited by an annoyed photographer.  Do you really think you’re going to receive their best work?  Sorry, Princess.  Maybe I’m wrong here, but I want images that have been edited out of excitement.  Passion.  Enthusiasm.  Clearly, this guy had lost that somewhere.

But moving on.

Looking back now, I realize there were a few things these two gentlemen had in common.  The biggest being my confusion in how either of them were not making a living doing something they were so obviously good at.  I’m no longer confused-

Their lack of professionalism and integrity will never allow them to be great.

In an industry so superficial and ego-driven, there is simply no more room left for liars.  Because you can have the biggest ego in the room- so long as you can also deliver the results to back it up.  Otherwise you’re just all talk with a few cool pictures on Instagram.  From 2 years ago.

But even more frustrating is the thought that these individuals probably thought at one point “What’s she going to do about it?”.  Well, nothing.  Except when your name comes up I’ll be honest.  I’ll explain how I did my part.  And put every effort into our shoot.  How I cared.  How I drove an hour to meet with you.  How I went above what you expected.  And how you let me down by not caring about any of it.  I’ll tell them how I strung along with promises of more images, when you “weren’t so busy”.  Awww- You’re busy?  So is everyone else.  Let that be a lesson to anyone that uses that as an excuse- its insulting.  If I can mange to deliver results, then I expect you to be able too.  And if you CANT handle that, well, maybe you need to pick a new career.  This applies to flakey models, as well.

So in the end, I have accepted those shots are long gone.  I no longer stress or get upset when I think about all the wasted potential.  Because I know I did my job.

And I did it well.

Probably better than they deserved.

In short, I learned that sometimes the lessons that come from shoots are deeper than just poses and angles.  That they can benefit more than just your portfolio (if youre lucky enough toeven HAVE anything for your port).  Sometimes they simply provide experience in making better decisions in the future.  And they CERTAINLY teach you about integrity, and how crucial it is for your reputation.

Because in the end, regardless of your talent, the true value of you as a model/photographer is only as good as your word.

Because, baby- there is no filter for poor ethics.

And no makeup to cover that ugly heart.

All that’s left for you now is the reputation of being just another unreliable flake.

Remember that.

Liberata Dolce Model Blog Blogger Flakes Bombshell Florida

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Modeling- Vanity? Or Lesson in Humility?

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A Pivotal Moment….

Every model has some story about how they were “discovered”.  For me, it was a little different.  I had always been told by friends and family that I should model- that I was “so photogenic”… and “so pretty”.  And my obsession with fashion magazines only encouraged them.  What they didn’t know was that I was extremely insecure.  What others saw as vanity was actually only self conscience attempts to hide every flaw.  And even though I had all this encouragement, nothing could make me see it till I myself started to see it too.  Ironically, it was the other models in my fashion magazines that finally helped me do this.  They inspired me.  Pushed me.  Challenged me.  Not to be like them physically- I was insecure, not stupid.  But to be part of something beautiful.  Iconic.  Extraordinary.  Like the old school Guess? ads we all know and love.  It wasn’t about being the actual girl in the picture- it was about the entire image itself.  To me, every ad campaign from Gucci, YSL, Chanel, Versace… it was all ART.  And I wanted a to be a part of it SO bad.

Fast forward to a few years later….

My best friend is marrying the man of her dreams, and I’m the Maid of Honor, just like we had always promised each other.  Now, for the average BFF, this is already a big job.  Like, huge.  And tough.  Because its also the one time you knowingly, and very lovingly, have to tone down your look for the big day.  Because its not about you.  In other words, you have to look amazing, without actually looking amazing.  YOU are the accessory.  You’re the Chanel clutch (classy, simple) carried next to a Balmain dress (jaw-dropping gorgeous).

But that’s okay- cause I happen to love Chanel.

However, the job duties become even more challenging for someone like me.  Because I’m the fashion queen in the group, my friends have always come to me with dilemmas.  Especially for big events.  So naturally, when it comes to my dress for the big day, no one wants to tell me what to wear.  (Even though I promise I would if they did…  I think…  Okay, I might customize it a tiny bit…)  So as anticipated, I’m given free reign from the Bride to find my own Maid of Honor dress.  Her only request is simple- it has to be purple.

Easy for anyone else.  For me- it’s my new fashion conquest.

This launches me into one of those epic fashion searches I’m famous for.  And this is why I say that this particular responsibility is so much harder for someone like me.  This isn’t merely just about finding a purple dress.  Its about finding THE purple dress.  Its about the finding the most perfect, amazing, purple dress that was ever stitched together.  Its about finding the perfect dress so my Best Friend’s day is EVERYTHING she ever dreamed it would be.  Because this is a day where details matter- and I’m now one of those details.

With images of terrifying bridesmaid dresses from the 80’s swimming in my head, I know the one most critical factor is to stick with something classic.  Timeless.  Simple.  Something ageless that wont send shivers down children’s spine when they look at their Grandparents wedding pictures years from now.  I can honestly tell you I have had nightmares involving those puffy sleeves… to a fashionista, they’re legit scarier than any clown.

And this is when it all happens.

I think I’m at my 35th bridal shop.  I’m giving the same speech to the assistant- “…..purple.  Any shade, but not too dark… long and floaty… unique, but classic… mermaid preferably…. do you have anything backless?”.  This particular shop also carried pageant gowns, so I was feeling rather positive.  At the very least, there would be some unique gowns to slip into and pretend.  It’s like playing “Dress Up” for grown ups.  So I’m in heaven, trying on gown after gown while the assistant feverishly pulls more- her determination was quite impressive.  High on fashion endorphins and lost in the thrill of sequins and sinfully plunging necklines, I started to lose focus.  As I admire the latest body-hugging contestant in the mirror, I suddenly realize- this dress is gold…??  Wait, what is happening?  Purple… we need PURPLE!!  It is then that I realize another woman is watching this parade of pageant gowns- the owner.  Before I can even call for the assistant to redirect her focus back to the original mission, the owner comes to me.  Turns out she had just received a new season of gowns and wanted to see them on someone.  And because of my body type, I was “perfect”.  Perfect meaning “big boobs, small waist and can squeeze into sample sizes”.

At the same time, a photographer was also in the shop.  He shot a lot of weddings and worked with the owner of the boutique quite often.  My impromptu fashion show had caught his attention.  “Have you ever modeled before?” he asks.  I laugh.  Of course.  Cause that’s what I do when I’m nervous.  Or on the spot.  Crazy right?  I bet you thought modeling was all about vanity and self-centered attention.  Wrong, wrong, wrong…. but more on that later.

I’m not sure what it was.  I had been asked before.  Many times before.  Maybe I was just in the right mood.  Maybe I was feeling all this good wedding energy.  Maybe it was just simply meant to be.  But I agreed to shoot with him.  And just like that, it all started.

So while I didn’t find the perfect dress there, I did find something.  An opportunity.  A crossroads that actually became one of the most pivotal moments in my life thus far.  I often wonder if the insecure side of me would have won that day, and I had said “no thank you”.  Who would I be right now?  Where would I be right now?  What great things would I have accomplished in lue of my experiences as a result of saying “yes”?  I’m not saying I’m a better person as a result- just a different person.  A stronger, slightly more confident version.

Earlier I mentioned vanity.  And how utterly incorrect it is to associate it with modeling.  Or at least with MY modeling.  I’m sure there are those who simply just enjoy having their picture taken.  Who relish the attention of being the primary focus.  And that’s okay- to each their own.  But to assume that’s the agenda of every model is not only inaccurate, it’s unfair.  I’m somewhere on the opposite end of the spectrum.  You see, shoots have become a personal challenge for me.  A way of growth. Of acceptance- of who I am both physically and mentally.  There is no hiding from my flaws- only brutal honesty.  I give up total control of how I will be presented when all is said and done.  Or shot, rather.

Take a selfie for instance.  We are ALL guilty of them, so bare with me here…  When someone takes a selfie, they take multiple shots, right?  Go on, you can admit it.  I bet you even have a favorite side you prefer.  You then choose the one you like best.  The one that has the perfect angle.  It hides what you don’t want to show, or if you cant hide it, well… you can find a filter.  Or, it accentuates, or points to, what YOU want to feature.  My point is, you don’t take a selfie without the intention of putting the best “you” out there.

Modeling is pretty much the opposite of that.  Its like taking all those shots, never looking at them, and giving them all away to someone else so they can do whatever they want with them.  Scary, right?

Yeah- that’s what I thought.

Now lets take it one step further.  Think about the person that has those images.  They’re zooming in on all the things you would be mortified for someone to notice.   Think about your date walking up to you and pointing out that pimple you thought you covered.  Or that stretch mark on your hip.  Or the dimples on your thigh.  Or… you get the point.

That’s how vulnerable and exposed I feel every time I step in front of the lens.  My guard comes down, and the brutal physical honesty comes out.  The imperfections.  The flaws.  Remember when you first heard your voice from something recorded?  You probably thought something like “That’s not how I sound?!  Is it…??”.  That’s pretty much how I felt in the beginning when I looked at raw shots.  I was forced to see myself in ways I had always avoided before.   Or ignored.  I saw the real me.  I saw myself through another person’s eye.  The good… the bad… the flaws.  Or what I use to consider flaws.  Slowly they have turned into love and acceptance.  Not totally- but I’m more forgiving of myself then I ever thought I would be capable of.

So in short- for me, its a lesson in humility, as my Dad would say.  Its a glimpse at reality.  The sometimes very brutal truth, depending on the lighting.  The truth where there is no capturing your “good side” (mine is my left).  Because they will capture every side.

At the same time, its also an opportunity to open yourself.  To let parts of yourself out that you normally try to silence.  An opportunity to accept yourself.  An opportunity to creatively express emotions or feelings.  Some of my favorite shots are simple candid moments between me and the photographer.  Maybe we were sharing a cigarette.  Or talking about my most recent boyfriend.  Maybe we were simply musing about the future.  And that is where the challenge comes from.  With everything I have discovered and accepted about myself, why would I even think about stopping?  Especially when I know its just the beginning.  I want to dig SO much deeper.

And the best part?  I have images as personal proof of my evolution.  Some good, some bad- all special.

Just something to consider the next time you want to call a model Vain.  Perhaps its YOU that needs to dig a little deeper as well?

Like the great Karl Lagerfeld once said, “Change is the healthiest way to survive”.

And for those still wondering, of course I found “the perfect dress”.  A beautiful creation by Vera Wang, and customized with a vintage brooch.  I was the perfect accessory, to the perfect wedding, of the perfect couple (I love you!!).

So remember, whether your searching for a dress, or self acceptance, just follow your natural instinct.  Do what feels right for YOU.  Don’t be afraid to take chances.  And never miss out on a chance to discover more about yourself.

Because perseverance will ALWAYS pay off.

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Confessions: Intro

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Confession 1: 

The Intro

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Yes, yes- I know.  I promised you when this fabulous site first launched that I would be open and honest about my own personal love life.  And I think now is the perfect time to begin that process.

You see, a very large motivating factor for this very site is my perpetual habit of choosing men that are SO wrong for me.  Like, really wrong.  Like, so wrong that my own Mom gave up any kind of hope a long time ago.  And lets be honest- if I made logical decisions on whom I dated, I doubt I would be nearly as interesting.  Or scarred (literally).  And think of all the awesome experiences I would have missed out on.  Like finding out the guy you’ve been dating for a month is married.  Or being bit by an overly intoxicated date (I really wasn’t joking about the scar).  And then there’s the closet Jesus freak that compared me to a prostitute (thank you POF!).  How about the guy that freaked out on me, and then blamed it on his preventative hair-loss medication…

By now, I have enough experience to supply complete storylines for at least 3 movies.  Except none of them come with Fairytale endings.  Yet.  No, they’re probably more like horror films.  And clearly I’m like the dumb, slutty blonde character that always dies in the end because she runs the (very obvious) wrong way.

You would think I’d learn by now…

Which brings me to my topic.

After years of dating, and with no real relationships to really show for it, it makes me wonder- Are we all willing to keep putting ourselves out there because we’re addicted to love?  Or just the rush of dating to find someone better?

Lets go back to the old boring way people used to do it.  There was no internet, no texting, no Joe Manganiello.  I mean, that’s enough right there for me to hate things.  But yet, I think people were at their happiest when it came to dating.  They didn’t have a whole world of potential partners to choose from- they had their hometown.  They didn’t initiate contact with weeks of texting before “hanging out”.  They went on actual dates.  Together.  Without any prior knowledge of each other that they gathered from Facebook and Google.  Like, whoa.

And for those still not quite sure what this mythical term means, “Dating” was considered a formal act of courtship.  A clear first step in determining if you guys were going to get hitched down the road.  They went to places like drive-ins.  Probably because the only action they could even hope for HAD to take place during the actual date itself- because going home with the other person at the end of the night wasn’t even an option.  Hence why you actually had to GO TO PLACES SPECIFICALLY TO MAKEOUT.  Where other couples were making out around you (Ew…).  And then you waited for a phone call.  Like, really waited.  By a phone that was connected to a wall.  For days (which would be like weeks today).  And that was code for “You are now in consideration for future hitching”.

Awesome.

Take my parents, for instance- they met at a party… and never left each others side.  They grew up in the same town.  Met through mutual friends.  Fell in love.  And STAYED in love.  As a bonus, they even got me out of the deal.  Again- Awesome.

And since we’re on that note, lets look at me.  It seems the fact that I have remained single is so unexplainable to my friends.  No one can understand it.  Or when I meet someone new…..

liberata dolce blog confessions single why

I often get stared at in wonder by family the same way people probably look at crop circles.  How?  Why?  Should we be afraid??  After all, I come from a good, balanced family.  My childhood was almost TOO perfect.  There are no tragic incidents from my past to report.  I have a college degree.  A great career.  BAD shopping habits (it cant all be sunshine and roses…).  I’m healthy…  Intelligent…  Happy…

So…. whats wrong with me?

The answer- Absolutely nothing.

I’m just an example, or by-product even, of dating by today’s standards.  Or rather, lack thereof.  I’m an example of someone addicted to the thrill of the hunt and driven by personal challenge.  Men are trophies.  Sex is power.  And feelings, if you even have any, are disposable.  Terrified at the thought of missing out on someone better, I never want to get too attached.

Okay, so I’m not totally ALL of those things.  Not all together.  Because that would make me a frigid bitch that’s incapable of love.  If anything, I’m the exact opposite.  I look for it so hard that I ignore all the signs that are screaming for me to run.  And yet I don’t.  Because I’m the dumb blonde that always runs the wrong way, remember?  But I can probably directly link one or more of those reasons to most of, if not all, of my past relationships.

And speaking of which, lets look at some of those, shall we?

*As a side note to the men of my past who might find themselves reading this- relax.  Your identity is safe.  This isn’t a Burn Book, and you’re not that special.  But it IS my honest opinion.  So deal with it.

Now, I cant possibly write about all the great loves of my life in one post.  I feel like I would be cheating you from some pretty epic examples of “Oh no he didn’t!!” moments.  And those moments are exactly what you came here for.  And just to set the record straight- I’m no angel myself.  But most of you probably already guessed that.

So instead, I’ll share these stories with you individually.  In the form of “Confessions”.  Confessions to my past addictions (also known as “men”), and the lessons that came with them.  Because like any good drug, they all had some euphoric hold on me.  And then eventually left me strung out and exhausted.  Some even left me ashamed.  Others craving another hit.  Some I went multiple rounds with.  Some I hope to never lay eyes on again.  Ever.

So get ready.  Because honesty is always the best policy….

Sorry I’m not sorry.

#BombshellCode

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“There’s nothing wrong with getting dirty when you clean up well.”