Tag Archives: Romance

New Outlook, Who Dis?

December 24, 2019 Liberata Leave a comment

It’s official. Being single in your 30’s might just be the worst title one can have today. And before any of my feminist friends lose their shit at me for this declaration, hear me out first.

You see, I’ve been quite comfortable moving through life at my own single speed. Sure, I’ve had a few great “almost, maybe” relationships, but none of them ever ended in “happily ever after”. And that’s okay. Because being single is fabulous, right? You can do whatever you want, whenever you want. You don’t have to share anything. Or compromise. You get the entire bed to yourself. And my favorite part- every day is literally brimming with the excitement of the possibility that you could meet THE ONE. In other words, when you’re single, you almost feel like the rest of your life is still one big, exciting question mark, and your future is still full of unlimited possibilities (I know, I know- que Natasha Bedingfield’s Unwritten).

Okay, so maybe that’s just my only child syndrome showing, or maybe it’s my selfish nature to usually put myself first. And do every little thing myself (because who else can it better, right?). But more importantly, maybe it’s because in today’s world, I have to question how anyone could ever make another person happy, without first being happy with themselves. Sure I want the King to my Queen, but how can I financially contribute equally to a relationship when I’m still building my own empire? How am I supposed to inspire and motivate another person when I’m still so focused finding my own? Because after all, especially by today’s standards, success is something I should be able to build all by myself, and definitely not with the help of a partner.

The pressure of being a strong, independent female today is real, y’all. And truth be told- it’s exhausting.

So if you’re anything like me, you most likely spent your 20’s working hard to be the Boss Babe that you are now in your 30’s. I see you Queen. You ate your glitter for breakfast, and you became the proud poster child for #riseandgrind. You’re by no means rich (yet), but you’ve been able to support yourself, all the while successfully dodging fuckboys along the way. AND you probably did it all in heels. That in itself should earn you a trophy. Or at the very least a vacation.

Except there is no trophy. And there is no vacation. Instead, there’s only another level, or another new goal you’ve decided you need to reach. Which means more glitter will be needed, and more rising and grinding will be done before we might finally be able to declare ourselves as “happy”. To be fair, I’m not sure what exactly happens to a person when they do successfully reach it. Maybe some internal light magically turns on similar to a taxi cab, letting men know that you’re finally qualified enough to be Wifey material. Or, maybe nothing happens at all, and we just have to continue dodging fuckboys until The One simply decides just to casually show up one day in some meet cute kind of way.

Or maybe, we can finally just stop worrying about it. And just keep crushing our goals while we live our life. For the record, this is the option I vote for.

So why is being single in your 30’s such a toxic title to have today? Well the truth is…. it isn’t. Or rather, you shouldn’t look at it that way. Because being judged for being single in your 30’s is really just a sign of the times, and not a sign of your life choices. Or perhaps I should say- a sign of the changing of times.

Let me explain….

Remember when you were young, and society had this normalized standard that you thought you had to follow to be successful? First you would go to college to get the job that would make the money, then you would meet Prince Charming somewhere in your 20’s, get married, and then finally, you would have the family and coveted white picket fence in your 30’s. It all sounds so lovely, right?

God, we were stupid….

Because as it would turn out, we would grow up as the generation that would rewrite the entire fucking script. The generation that proved you didn’t need to go to college to land the dream job. Instead, we realized we could skip the student loans, create our own dream jobs instead, and just start working for ourselves.

We realized the divorce rate was ridiculous, as most of us grew up in single parent homes. So we decided maybe getting married in your 20’s wasn’t the best idea, and we took our time instead. So we used our 20’s to live. We used our 20’s for travel. For experiences. And for an education that no classroom would have ever provided. And hopefully, through all that, you figured out just who “you” really were, and how much “you” were really capable of. And then to our surprise, we discovered the person we were in our 20’s would still yet somehow evolve into almost an entirely different person in our 30’s.

And now here we are in our 30’s, and we’re still learning. About ourselves, and about what we define as a successful life. For some of us it might still be that family with the white picket fence. But for others, it could be the apartment you’re still renting in NYC. Or maybe it’s living with your best friend in the Hollywood Hills. Or maybe it’s the old, but very shabby chic farmhouse with just enough property to shelter all the animals you rescued.

The point is- the only way to measure your success in life…. is you. Or more specifically, your happiness with where you are, right now.

So the truth is, maybe our 30’s are when we just need to stop. Stop with all of it. Stop with the standards. Stop with the timelines. Stop with the judgement. And to finally stop letting ridiculous factors like goals or wealth determine our own happiness with where we are in life, at this very moment.

And instead, maybe we just need to start looking at ourselves as individuals that each have their own idea of what happiness is. As individuals that are still learning. Still growing. And more importantly, individuals that are still making mistakes.

But above all, maybe your 30’s are for finally realizing the only things worth chasing in this crazy beautiful life, are the things that set your soul on fire.

2018, Dating, Fashion, Sorry I'm No Sorry

Fast Fashion…. Fast Dating?

January 24, 2018 Liberata Leave a comment

Call me old school. But there are 2 things that I believe still deserve to be done with thought and integrity:

Fashion & love.

Fashion, because it is still a representation of who you are. How you feel. It’s a representation of your passions. Your beliefs. It can tell a little about your past, while even adding hints of where you see yourself in the future.

You don’t dress for the job you have, you dress for the job you want, right?

So it’s a little disappointing that we now live in a world where fashion has become fast. Cheap. Little care needed. And easily disposed of.

And really, whats to value about the quick purchase we made at Forever 21? That $14 dress you bought to wear once, on Friday night, cause it’s, like, so cute. If the dress is lucky it will survive the night without any stains, and will eventually find its way to the nearest donation bin along with 10 more just like it (different colors, of course). But more often than not, it will fall apart after being washed once, and it’s memory will only live on only in a filtered Instagram post.

We make purchases like these because, while they may be a big fashion risk, they will be little risk to our wallets. With virtually no financial damage, we can score an entire outfit, knowing full well it may only be worn once. And that’s okay. Because you weren’t really interested in committing to it anyways. I’m pretty sure you have no intention of passing on your sequin and studded tube top to your future daughter. And you probably aren’t saving it for a rainy day, either.

However, stopping by Neiman Marcus could cost you. Big time. Not only will you be spending more, you’re also more than likely committing to making a permanent home in your closet for your purchase. This would be considered an investment. So a lot of thought (and a little trying on) will be required before you make your final selection.

But wait… Dry clean only? No thanks. Hand stitched? I mean, how could anyone even know if that’s true? Hand wash only? Who has time for that? Lay flat to dry? Girl, bye.

And so, not wanting to take the risk of spending your time, money and effort on something of quality, you settle for cute and convenient instead. So it’s really no surprise that we have evolved to treating other areas in our life with the same level of effort.

Things like relationships.

Face it- dating has now become the Forever 21 of our love lives.

Fast. Little effort invested. Disposable.

And online dating has become our fitting room.

That would almost be funny…. if it weren’t so true. And we have to face the reality that online dating really is the only way to go these days. I mean, you could still run into someone at the grocery store, I suppose. But even if you did see someone that caught your attention, chances are that person will walk cruise right by you, their face buried in their phone, feverishly swiping, narrowing down that weekend’s dating options.

Because we don’t lock eyes anymore. We swipe right. Or, if you’re feeling extra creepy, you can slide right on into their DM’s.

Romantic, right?

But this also creates another problem- no one actually invests time in getting to really know one another anymore. If the dress rips, you can just throw it away with no remorse and buy a new one. If a date falls short of our expectations (but he said he was 6’2!), you can simply hop on your phone, ignore your 5’9 date, and line up your next one before you’ve even finished your drink.

That’s if you even make it to an actual first date. Because more often than not, the first date is now the time you message one another, right after you’ve matched on Tinder. That’s right. We just went ahead and completely eliminated the need to even have an actual face-to-face conversation to learn about one another. OR, we want to know everything about that person to even determine if its even worth going on a date with them. In my own personal experience, this dance can go on for weeks.

It goes something like this:

So, what do you do? What do you do for fun? Where do you live? Where are you from? What brought you here? Have you ever been married/kids? Are you on Facebook? Instagram? I’m probably going to need to see more pictures of you in various situations to determine just how attractive you really are. How tall are you?

Basically, this Q&A session will last longer then if you had just skipped all the superficial stuff, and actually just met for a drink instead. But neither party had to get off their couch, change out of their sweats, or make any real effort whatsoever. There’s no risk.

And so while you may know what they had for lunch that day, thanks to Instagram, you will have zero clue on whether there’s actually any chemistry between the two of you.

This is known as the period that we assess the potential risk of the individual. Or, in fashion terms, is the item worth the price? And there lies the problem.

I’m not sure we even understand what quality is anymore. In fashion, or in love. Or what it means to really invest in something, and want to take care of it, understanding that the item’s value will appreciate over time. We no longer know how to look at things, and think of the future, and imagine how special their place could potentially be in our lives. Do we even know how to care for something that could be expensive now, but priceless down the road? Instead, we’re only thinking of the hear and now.

And so we fail to imagine the magical memories that could be created, and fill our lives with a string of instant gratification moments instead.

But isn’t the magic what dating is all about? The potential?

When did we forget about the possibility of butterflies?

Thanks to social media and Amazon Prime, we expect everything now. From information to sex. We want to have all the answers. All the information. And a solid return policy.

But that’s not how relationships are formed, or even how memories are made.

I’d still like to believe that I’m going to marry my best friend. And a relationship like that takes time. Built with quality, and capable of being repaired, even when completely broken. Cared for with love, and protected from harmful agents. There for the good times, and even the bad. No annoying flaws or snags, but rather, only the stories behind them.

So I propose we start to treat dating like it’s something we actually value again. Because it is a risk. Whether it’s your heart, or your money on the line. Stop wasting your time and energy on cheap knock-offs, and instead save your efforts to invest in the real thing. Next time you meet someone, put down the phone. Lighten up on the messages. And put your fabulous, beautiful self out there and invest the time and effort to really get to know them, face to face. Say Goodbye to Forever 21 (unless it’s for accessories- I can’t even fault you there). And begin to treat your potential relationship like an Hermes bag. Sure, it’s a risk. And it definitely could cost you. But that same investment could be worth more than gold in time. And while it’s beautiful now, it could be even more stunning with age.

And always, always handle it with care.

And who knows….

Maybe, just maybe, you might get butterflies.

Confessions, Dating, Sorry I'm No Sorry

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

February 12, 2017 Liberata Leave a comment

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.

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.

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

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

Confessions, Dating, Sorry I'm No Sorry

Online Dating- Welcome to Hell

August 24, 2015 Liberata 1 Comment

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.

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.

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.

X

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

LUSTstoned – Style… or Substance?

August 3, 2015 Liberata 1 Comment

…

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.

LIBERATA DOLCE