tethered

my little brother is home from kuwait.  he joined the army about a year and a half ago, and recently spent 7 months abroad working in a team of intelligence army folk in what he described as "the vault."  it's natural to anticipate he would return home and experience some sort of culture shock.  which he has.

he's been locked indoors, exiting only to find sandstorms and 140 degree weather.  he has spent his time entirely with one group of people, military culture in which you dress alike, you eat together, and you follow a strict schedule.  everything is planned out for you, you know what to expect, you have a job to do.  and you belong.

home now, i was able to spend some time with him.  yesterday was my day, and i of course was most interested not in what he brought home, not in his pictures...but in how he was feeling.  about everything.

and so i asked him.

"i'm feeling lonely," he said, "i'm not quite sure what to do with myself here.  i think i'm going through culture shock.  and i'm not quite sure where i belong."  i was curious about this last part.  he's home now, isn't "home" in its essence the place where someone belongs?  and then i thought harder.  not necessarily.


our family is a modern one, as are many others.  products of divorce, my siblings and i no longer have a room to call our own in either house currently occupied by my parents.  guest bedrooms, yes.  but home-base...not quite.  the two halves of our family - our parents - will never again share the same space, which means our total of 5 will never again make a home the sort of which some families will forever be able to enjoy. 

where is home base?  my brother felt it upon returning home.  and i realized - i feel it, too.

we feel untethered.  we're not sure where we belong.

it's easier for my sister and i.  she has her husband.  i have my boyfriend.  even my parents have significant others.  my brother has us.  and we are all individual units.  four corners on a square and he's in the middle. 

i told him he's creating a new family for himself.  that's what happens when you get older.  right now, it's the army.  he belongs something that is greater than most people will ever have claim to.  a national family that provides safety, purpose, and lifelong bonds.  but i know it's not the same.

and i can't fix that.

i've had many reflective moments in my own life where i have felt untethered.  renting an apartment with a friend, working in a job which provided more worry than security, spending time with family when i was invited.  no key to mom's house.  no key to dad's house.  entirely on my own except for social visits.  i felt like a drifter.  my roots had disintegrated.  i felt lost.

it wasn't until i moved in with my boyfriend, into a purchased house, that i finally felt the initial stirrings of my developing "home base".  we got a dog, a source of endless joy and happiness.  unconditional love that makes you feel needed, and wanted.  and a partner who provides the same.

i'm at a point where i realize i will never be able to rely on my parents to give me a home base.  they are unable to be the roots of who i am.  and so i have determined to create my own. 

i'm on my way.  eventually, when we are "official", i think i will feel even more secure in my self-made family.  it's made up of me, my pup, and my boyfriend.  my friends also contribute to my sense of belonging. 

as society changes and children of messy divorces age, we're all going to experience this.  the sense that we are untethered.  wondering where we belong.  wishing there were a rule book to guide our forward momentum and encounters with a broken family. 

my best, and currently only, suggestion:  create your own.

i'm not sure what i can do to make my brother feel better.  to ease his burden, to help him figure out where he'll feel secure.  but i can help guide him as he develops his own.  i can ensure i am there to hold his hand, and let him know that he has a soft place to land if he makes a misstep.  that i won't let go, and he will forever be tied to me.

i'm also sure that some of my friends, the people i love, have felt the same.  i think it's an inevitable part of growing up, no matter who you are, or how functional your family.  to my friends, i want you to know: you are always welcome in the home i am creating.  and you will forever be tied to me, no matter where you drift.

poo post

for some of you that know me, i know what you're thinking:  it's about damn time.

that's right, we're going to talk about poop today.  #2.  the mass exodus.  evacuation.

everybody does it.  so let's not pretend.



i'm gonna go ahead and put it out there:  i go once a week.  that's right.  once.per.week.  that means 6 full days (sometimes more) with zero action.  nada.  hard-core unnatural camel action going on in my midsection.

and it sucks.

i've tried everything.  pills, syringes, awful tasting liquids - i've even consumed tablespoons full of mineral oil (i don't recommend this).  the doctors have explored, and given it to me straight:

your ass is broken.  you're just going to have to live with it.

ok.

and so i do.  i'm so used to it, at this point, that i look forward to my weekly event with fervor.  i forget that normal folks use the toilet daily in capacities that i do not.  i take advantage of the fact that i am rarely inconvenienced by my bowels.

i resent my dog for going three times a day.  it's as if he's flaunting it.  but he doesn't have the intestinal stamina that i do.  in fact, i'd say i am a superwoman in that arena.

i am a non-pooping rockstar.

when the event does commence, however, the world fades away.  nothing else matters, and i relish in every stomachache.  what to you may be painful is to me a cause for celebration.  freedom at last!

at least for this week.

for me, #2 is better than sex.  and i've had some great sex.  so you do the math.

my boyfriend gives me high fives.  my mother sends congratulatory texts.  my sister tells me i'm gross.  i don't care.  i emerge once a week with a healthy new glow, insides refreshed and feeling deeply cleansed.

you can judge me for my poo passion.  but don't be an asshole.  you do it too, and if you don't, you've got bigger problems than i do.

we all do it.  i do it once a week.  and i look forward to it.

narcissist

i did it again.  i found a personality test.  the narcissistic personality inventory.


take it here.


my score:
Authority: 6
Self-Sufficiency: 0
Superiority: 2
Exhibitionism: 0
Exploitativeness: 0
Vanity: 3
Entitlement: 1


i ended up with an average score, fitting square in the middle of the rest of the population.  of course, my narcissistic tendencies are higher in some areas than others.


i clearly like to be in charge, and often times think i should be.  i am somewhat vain, and have a sense of entitlement when it comes to getting respect.


i was looking into narcissism as i have someone close to me who is, without a doubt, a greater-than-average narcissist.  he frustrates me to no end as he is unable and unwilling to consider my perspective.  i certainly try to consider his.  


what some qualify as "stubborn" i believe honestly comes from his own belief that he knows better than anybody else what everyone ought to do.  and he feels entitled to have everyone else bow down to him, taking two steps his way for perhaps half a step from him.  i want to shake him!


alas, he is part of my life that will not go away.  and so i try to understand.  i would ask him to take this test, but i'm sure he wouldn't take it seriously.  he has his own high opinion of himself, and that isn't going to change unless someone lights a fire under his ass to do so.  which is unlikely.


i figured it couldn't hurt to see whether or not i also fall into his category - terribly narcissistic.  and i was happy to see my results.


take it for yourself, and let me know how it turned out...and if it motivated you to change any potentially bad habits.


(for the record:  "he" is not my beloved boyfriend)

first impressions

i like to think that, in general, i make a good first impression.  i am generally polite, generally well-groomed, and generally brush my teeth before going out into public.  i am only mildly offensive (perhaps medium-grade, depending on the new individual) upon first meeting and happy to give an introductory hug to let you know i like you.

last friday night was an exception.  yes, i brushed my teeth and was generally well-groomed.  i eventually provided the "nice to meet you" hug.  but i was otherwise out of sorts.

let's start from the beginning.

i had the great pleasure of spending time with one of my greatest girlfriends, cramming into a car full of her buds and heading downtown for a local fashion show and a drink or two.

...or two my ass...but i digress.

we made a bar stop prior to the show.  beer #1 down with great success.  enjoyable, refreshing, and hoppy.  mmmm.

i successfully avoided taking shots from a passed-around flask despite the chilly weather.  i know myself well enough to know that potent shit does not mix well with amy q.  and so i kept my drink tab to 1.  until after the show.

this is where things get fuzzy.

i distinctly remember physically removing a small boy from our path as my friend and i took over the men's bathroom.  ladies first, right?

we attended an after-party at a fun art gallery downtown.  free-flowing beer, wine, etc.  dangerous.  i partook in two, and proceeded to do the following:

blurry, but evidence: i snagged an opportunity to cup her chest.  apparently, right in front of my friend's parents.  i mentioned to them that i couldn't help myself, she has great boobs.  her mother agreed: "she sure does."  validation.

two beers down at the art gallery.  the cold no longer exists, my heels are not quite so painful on my poor toes.  let's have another!

we move it to a nearby location and proceed to peruse the menu.  i opt for a watermelon mixed drink.  which is not a good idea.  at this point, i was ready to vomit melon if i had to have another sip.  the waitress kindly swapped it for a dependable glass of sparkling rose.  beautiful.

all is good in the land of the tipsy.  my comrades have, without a doubt, consumed more than i have.  they are also greater ballers than i am.  and therein lies my error.

trying to play with the big boys, i surpassed my 2 drink limit.  this limit i imposed on myself not for safety sake, not for the sake of my budget, but rather for the sake of all those around me.  my tolerance is that of a little girl, and my body is quick to punish.

drive home proceeds: 5 of us packed in a car, each change of lanes feels like a 180 degree spin, my stomach is churning and my head knows the danger: amy, do not puke in this car.

in through my nose, out through my mouth, one of the few times my ceaseless chatter is subdued.

i make it home just in time.  quick good-byes, slamming car door, run into the house.

only to be greeted by my boyfriend, recently arrived from chicago, and his college buddy whom i'm meeting for the very first time.  fantastic.

"hey sweetie!" "hello Amy" ...first impressions are important, but spewing on a potential new friend is just not in my playbook.

"nice to meet you - i'm going to go puke now."

i run upstairs, upheaval number one occurs.

brush the teeth, wash the hands, stroll downstairs for a proper introduction.  shake of the hand, and even a hug is allowed after i proclaim "i swear i didn't puke on myself."  all is well for approximately one minute until...

"it's time.  puking again.  have a great night."

round two.  followed by round three.

first impression officially gone awry.  but i had a great time :)

shoulda learned

i've often thought back to my school days.  learning precalculus, the stages of cell division, and the scientific names of animal species.  i temporarily learned history (long enough to pass the test), and never quite learned how to cross-stitch.

i do appreciate some aspects of school.  mainly, the social aspects, and some lifelong friends i found.  i appreciate having been forced to work in groups, read and write the english language almost properly, and seeing first hand in frogs and cats how the body functions and where the organs fit.  i learned how to kiss a boy in school, i learned how to pass notes discreetly, and how to take advantage of the fact that authority figures trusted me (a la, skipping school with a favorite friend while we were at "the opera" aka the movie theater and driving around raleigh in her car singing).

sitting at my desk, i debate the things they should have taught me.  for instance, how to remember to fill out my time sheet.  how to attract business leads via social media.  how to negotiate a bonus and how to set up a tradeshow booth.  a more detailed understanding of sex wouldn't have hurt back then, either.

i was perusing "the oatmeal" earlier and came across this series of explanatory drawings.  what we should have been taught our senior year of high school.

check it out.  and feel free to add to the list! (aka, comment)

philandering

i just finished reading an article about the unrealistic expectation we in america have regarding monogamy.  that we are willingly naive to believe that someone can remain monogamous for long stretches of time without screwing up.  that one partner is not possibly enough to satisfy a human being for an adult lifetime after commitments have been made to "forsake all others"...

here's the article.  check it out.

honestly, this article disturbs me.  i understand the wandering eye.  i realize that both sexes, men and women alike, appreciate and will sometimes naturally fantasize about members of the opposite (or perhaps same) sex who don't happen to be their partners.

but does this mean that we are incapable of resisting the temptation to act upon it?  are we depriving ourselves of an innate human need by fiercely fighting to be monogamous?

my personal opinion:  no.  no way.

sex is an obvious human desire.  an orgasm is incredible, and brings the same result no matter who you're with.  if you're in a monogamous relationship, why the hell wouldn't that orgasm come from experiencing intimacy with your partner?  why would it need to come from a new hot body?

if you want variety, get it from your partner.  make an effort.  if you're no longer sexually attracted to them, have a talk.  don't betray them and play them for fools.

the comfort and fulfillment that come from a monogamous, longstanding relationship far outweighs the momentary pleasures of a sexual encounter.  i, for one, am not willing to forsake these priceless gains of fidelity by philandering outside of my relationship.

i am not so naive to believe that he will never fantasize about a never woman.  i am not so naive to believe that i will never find temptation outside of my relationship.  but i do respect my partner and my relationship enough to understand that monogamy and fidelity bring far more to my life and contribute more to my happiness than any drop of the panties ever could.

infidelity happens.  when you let it.  i absolutely judge those in relationships who think they have a free pass to sleep around based on an innate human requirement.  don't be such a human prokaryote.  we're much more complex than that.

analysis...

...of handwriting!

i'm always looking for new ways to analyze myself and others.  and so i checked into a new realm which i have yet to explore, the world of handwriting analysis.

i found a super basic online handwriting analysis quiz.  take it here.

what are your results?  are they accure?  tell me!

here are mine:

You plan ahead, and are interested in beauty, design, outward appearance, and symmetry.
You are a social person who likes to talk and meet others.
You are negative, fearful, resistant, doubtful, and/or selfish.
You are a talkative person, maybe even a busybody!
You enjoy life in your own way and do not depend on the opinions of others.


i agree with them all, except perhaps for the "negative, fearful, resistant, doubtful...maybe i'm selfish.

the ex factor

while we were cruisin', my boyfriend and i met an interesting couple.  let's call them frank and anya...because those are their actual names, and they're sincerely unlikely to be recognized by whomever is reading this post anyway.

frank is in business development and works in california.  he lives there, and has for a while now.  he has a great tan, is a bit robust, he's incredibly outgoing and likes to drink.

anya is originally from russia.  she has curly blonde hair, a fair complexion, is interested in opera and lives in manhattan as a consultant (my bf loved this).  she is intelligent, refined, and seems to enjoy chatting although doesn't generally initiate conversation.

we met these two in the dining room one evening while sitting at a table for two...which was immediately beside another table for two, occupied by this couple.  they seemed happy, we seemed happy, we ended up chatting and really hit it off.

of course, as soon as we begin to get to know them, i am analyzing them.  trying to figure this couple out.  i generally assume folks of that age range (they seemed to be in their early 40s) who are in a couple scenario are married.  not that i ought to, a significant number of mature adults are divorced or otherwise single.  but that's what i assume.  so i carried on from there.

no wedding bands.  they live in different cities.  they have very different personalities but clearly enjoy each other and seem to know each other well.

we learn that they flew into miami to meet up for this cruise.  anya had convinced frank it was the vacation they ought to do this year, as they frequently travel together and this was one experience they had not yet enjoyed.  i'm still analyzing.  trying to figure them out.  are they both busy professionals who met online, meeting up for great lovers getaways whenever they can find the time?  this was my original theory.

they cut to the chase, clearly understanding the neighboring couple (us) is going to begin this initial analysis: we were married for 10 years.  and now we're divorced.  no kids.  can't live together, but love to travel together.

what?  how often do you see that happen?

the kicker:  not only do they enjoy traveling together, it appears they still sleep together.  they were sharing a stateroom.  if i could have gleaned more intimate details, trust me, i would have.  i want to know if these exes are banging.

we met up with them a few times over the course of the cruise, for drinks, for kayaking, for a comedy show.  they were great, thought along the same lines, and didn't seem to hate each other after several days of living in the same tiny room together.  what's going on here?  what makes these exes able to bear being with one another?

i think of the divorced couples i know, those i know best.  my parents.  my boyfriends parents.  my friends parents.  none of these couples can stand to be with their previous mate.  divorce happened, bring on the war.  if the war is even over, the coals are still simmering.  and not in a sexy way.

i can't even get my parents to be in the same room together.  i cannot imagine seeing them share a room.

i like to think that divorce happens most often because couples were either not paired up correctly, or didn't communicate effectively while they were together.  lives drifted apart, resentment grew, and a large gap was developed between their hearts.

i pray that divorce never, ever happens to me, as i feel perfectly paired with my partner and know that we communicate exceptionally well.  i am confident that, if we move into the world of the marrieds, we'll keep this up and we will be successful.

but my theory doesn't work if i consider anya and frank.  they are clearly into each other.  they clearly love to spend time together and seem to communicate.  they didn't even have kids to distract them from each other.  what the heck happened?  if it can happen to them, couldn't it happen to anyone?

i noticed that frank and anya, at least from what i could see, seem to be genuinely happy.  they enjoy their own personal time, do what they want, live where they want, work as they like, and have a traveling companion or lover to keep them company when they need a vacation from their own self-designed life.  they're in the drivers seat, and they choose love when it's convenient for them.

is this the best-case scenario?  is this where the modern relationship is going?

i hope not.  but i'm happy i met them.

tight fit

i am an observer.  sometimes critical.  sometimes sentimental.  generally practical.

a practical observation lead me to wonder the following: how do fat people fit in the cruise ship showers?



they're tiny.  they're narrow.  they leave little elbow room for an average-size human.  how does one fit a great dane into a carrying case sized for a chihuahua?

the phenomenon of unhealthy figures on the cruise ship shouldn't have surprised me.  apple shapes, pear shapes, and sometimes pineapple shapes.  they can all be found on the lido deck.

one of the fabulous conveniences of a cruise ship is the 24/7 iced cream, pizza, burgers and fries.  you shall never go hungry, thirsty, or without munchies if you get bored.  each meal can last for hours at the endless buffet, and the dining rooms will bring you as many (phenomenal) baskets of bread, entrees, and deserts as you wish.

not only the heavy-hitters on the boat take advantage of the endless foodstuffs.  my boyfriend and i certainly enjoyed our fair share.

bread basket arrives.  game on.  i'm on roll two when the waitress arrives to take our entree order.  "you two are such healthy eaters...i am impressed.  very light eaters."  what does that say to me?  golden ticket to snagging a third roll.  mmm.

all i'm saying is, i can see the attraction to those who are used to consuming this amount of food.  and frequently.

there are a plentiful array of sofas and love seats available at every turn.  at first, i mistook these for mere conversation spaces.  upon seeing them occupied, i later identified their second purpose: solo seating for the obese.  and that's o.k.

but then why the heck aren't the showers biggie-sized?

my boyfriend and i like to take showers together.  conserving water, right? :)  this was a definite no-go upon our first inspection of the bathroom.  an airline-sized area with a small corner allotted for washing.

even the toilets were small.  at different points, my man and i both admitted we were afraid of breaking the damn seat off the wall whenever we sat down.  and neither of us comes close to breaking 200 lbs.  how does that sucker withstand 400!?

we debated the options for the over-sized.  perhaps the shower curtain is ignored, the bathroom clearly designed for full submersion.  one foot in the shower, one foot on the counter, grab the extendable shower head and go to town?

i don't know.  perhaps i will never know.  but i couldn't help myself, looking around, wondering how the majority of my cruising companions got themselves clean.

teen lit

i blame it on my gal pal.  an intelligent, beautiful, witty and socially conscious woman i respect.  who happens to read young adult literature.  a la harry potter, twilight, etc.

she doesn't stick to this genre.  her literary repertoire extends in all areas, most often dedicated to studying books of medicine and healthcare.  for this reason, among others, i understand her appreciation for the light, quick, world-escaping novels that are written with adolescent minds in....mind.  she needs a break.  a mini-vacation.  a fun refresher to help her relax.  as do lots of fabulous adults.

she doesn't know it, but she's a saleswoman.  i avoided harry, resisted reading about vampires, and thought i was above it all until i heard her tell me about the hunger games.  brave new world-esque trilogy with a few new twists.  it happens to be targeted toward the young adults.  does 26 count as a young adult?

i am fucking hooked.

i picked up the first book just prior to my cruise date.  having previously finished devil in a white city, learning of late 1800s architects and chicago city planners for the world's fair, i decided to change directions.  and now i can't stop until the story does.

there's something about the post-apocalyptic world that snares me.  tangles me and makes me never want to stop exploring.  something about a big-brother-type government that makes me just angry enough to hope to read of its implosion and demise.

i finished the first book in three days.  the final days of the cruise, while wonderful, left me yearning for more.  as soon as we hit the airport, the boyfriend and i went on a quest.  a book quest.  for the second novel.  one after the other, we were denied success.  we eventually went to desperate measures.  no kidding, we paid $30 to get into a private airport club so that i could access the internet and download the second book onto his ipad.  which i finished in another 2 days.  which was this morning.

i have the third book, purchased over my lunch break, in my bag.  it's begging to be read.  i'm counting down the minutes not until i can go home, but until i can plant myself onto a stationary bike at the gym for a solid hour of hard-core third-book reading.

i am devouring this series.  and i don't know what i'll do when it's over.  i have fallen in love with young adult literature.  thanks to my friend (i love you).

in my defense, i have read many reviews of this trilogy (trying to make myself feel better) written by adults who have found themselves in the same predicament.  we all try to convince ourselves that this story is not quite appropriate for the young adult audience, its scenes too violent, its messages too complex, on and on.  i feel what they feel, but let's be real: teens in this day and age can handle most anything literature has to throw at it (perhaps, excluding large vocabulary words).  it fits the teen mold.  but can't it also extend into those of us who can also appreciate higher forms of literature?  provide a valuable relief from the complexities of novels that force us to explore and analyze historical or current life?

i won't lie.  there have been several moments in the book where i sigh, happy to see a smidgen of romance, only to think, "so, when are they going to have sex?"  there have been scenes in which i think a solid "fuck" would have done a lot to enhance the dialogue.

regardless of these mild critiques, i am trapped.  i am a prisoner of anticipation.  i am addicted to young adult literature.  and i'm not (really) ashamed.  

travel snob

i returned from cruising a few days ago and couldn't be happier.  sportin' a new tan, a sense of refreshment, and a few sneaky pounds, i'd go back and do it again tomorrow if i had the extra money.

i had a lot of thinking time while on the boat, basking in the sun and in my thoughts, meditating over several courses of perfect plates and seamless service.  i'll be honest: i spent a lot of time thinking up snarky thoughts about my fellow cruisers.  i'll get to those in a later post.

my self-reflection brought me to one of several conclusions, the first admission being this:

i am a travel snob.

without a doubt.  spoiled by my travel-savvy boyfriend, i have been enjoying a travel lifestyle which i have not earned, but have grown accustomed to.  and which i now have come to expect.  the bar has been raised, and it's set high.

i can't blame it entirely on any innate snobbishness.  i like to think that, in general, i have my feet fairly well planted on the ground.  but what's a girl to do when her consultant boyfriend can use his many hotel points to share a luxurious getaway?  should i stay in the holiday inn express down the street?  force him to come down to my level?

i don't think i'm entirely broken, and i know for sure that i've put in my time at the rat holes and hostels.  they're not all that bad, if you bring your own sheets.

if need be, i know i can rough it again.  give me a backpack and a hammock in a warm climate, i'll make it work.  give me a tent and an air mattress, i won't complain.

it's the space in-between truly rustic and luxury that, for me, has become unappealing.  

these days, business travel for me has become "roughing it".  hotel bathrooms with formica counters, the soft scent of dampness invading the corners of the room.  

i have a hard time not cringing when i'm presented with bed linens that aren't washed on a daily basis.  i'm not talking about the sheets, here.  i'm talking about the comforter.  give me a duvet, or give me nothing.  please don't make me sleep under a decorative comforter or "quilted blanket".  

i avert my eyes, when possible, from the unsightly air conditioning units perched beneath these hotel windows.  i make due with mediocre gym facilities, but i don't like it.  i'll make use of the bathtub with the shower head, but i may as well be camping if you're making me pay for this.

i have been spoiled from personal travel.  i have grown accustomed to gleaming white duvets and the choice of feather or synthetic pillows.  to fluffy robes and slippers hanging in the closet.  to hotel shampoos and conditioners that actually make my hair look good.

i enjoy the apples provided in the gym.  the complimentary refreshing facial wipes provided alongside the water bottles.  the marbled countertops and swanky decor.

reality really hit me in comparing my cruise boat stateroom to our hotel prior to boarding.  in the defense of the cruiseline, it really is remarkable that the rooms are as luxurious as any mid-grade hotel on land.  the view, for certain, cannot be beat.  the problem: i had been introduced the evening before to the W hotel in southbeach, miami.  and oh, what a hotel it was.

take a quick peek...

yes, that is a decorative light fixture hanging from the ceiling at left.  yes, that is a leather sectional beside the large ocean-view terrace, facing a second flat screen tv and a table laden with high-end licquor.  the shower had jets streaming from the walls and provided exfoliating facial scrub.

keep in mind, we did not pay $500 a night for this beauty.  we (he) used points.  but some people do.  and to them, it's worth it.

i know that this lifestyle will eventually come to an end.  i will trade these guilty travel pleasures for the luxury of having my man at home.  and i will love it.

honestly, i'm more worried for him.  he's used to living in these stunners 4 days a week.

we'll settle into real life eventually, and we'll work to lower the bar.  we'll focus more on each other than the swanky surroundings of glitzy hotel rooms.

but until that day, i am admittedly a snob.  a travel snob.  i don't deserve it, but i'm o.k. with that.

cruisin'

mentally preparing myself to anticipate everything, pack more than i need, and fly to miami tomorrow to depart on my first ever CRUISE!

i'll be back with silly stories, photos, and potentially a hangover.

until then...comment!

xo - aQ

eating out

i like to do it in public.  with a fork, a knife, and sometimes a spoon.  napkins are essential, and i generally appreciate wine to begin the experience.

if you began reading this post with a dirty mind, shame on you.  i'm talking about restaurants.


reviewing my personal spending habits, it is more than obvious that i unload a majority of my paycheck on food and beverage-related experiences.  i'm not talking about bar hopping or fast-food, i'm talking about read the reviews, try it out, fall in love dining experiences.

i rationalize as follows: i easily spend $40-50 when shopping for foodstuffs at earthfare if i prepare a meal at home.  that $20 entree is a bargain!  plus, i'm supporting the local economy.  score.

and so i dine out.  and i'm addicted.

i can't get enough of new ambiances and warm environments.  i love to peruse the menus, nibbling on their signature appetizers and sipping my wine.

my boyfriend judges restaurants based on the quality of the bread provided prior to a meal.  i judge the experience.  and i judge it critically.

i want to see wood.  i want to see glass and leather.  i want to see candles and hear music.  i want to see creative entree titles and enticing meal descriptions.  i want options.

i am most critical of service.

allowing for the fact that i drink like a famished desert-dweller, i find no excuse for not keeping my water glass half full.  don't allow me to taste your beers on tap prior to selection?  you're losing points.  don't know how to at least attempt to describe your wine menu options to me?  you're in trouble.

i want your recommendations, dear server.  not that i'll actually order your favorite, but let me see some passion for the food you dish out.  i want to hear about the ingredients, learn about the technique, and understand why your restaurant has a soul.  if you have no soul, we have a problem.

don't seat me at a table in the corner.  and please do not seat me just beside the door.  i don't have a communicable disease, and i'm not in a rush.  are you?

i have dreams of the angus barn vegetable plate.  it's worth every penny.  and the experience conjured when paired with a leather lounge chair and rutherford merlot is delectable.

the vegan sex at irregardless speaks for itself, and speaks to me from the menu.

acme's pickled beet, goat cheese and arugula dish is delightful.  their scallops are perfect.

as i debate my spending habits, i recall the lasting memories cultivated in these culinary settings.  meaningful conversation and fantastic secrets shared over creative dishes and under perfect lighting to suit the mood.  restaurants, good restaurants, are to me like a mini vacation.  and i think this is good for the soul.

i'll penny pinch elsewhere.  i'm a fan of eating out.

criminal minds

i have an obsession with criminal minds.  no, not the actual criminals themselves, but the crime thriller television series.  one of the few scripted dramas that can hold my attention for a solid hour.

unfortunately for me, it only airs at night.  when it's dark.

i live in the pleasantville-esque area of brier creek, in a picture perfect town home community that's got everything but the white picket fences.  perfectly manicured lawns.  flower pots at the door.  classy neighbors.  complimentary poo bags in the dog park.  perfectly safe, right?

you just never know...

i was lying in bed last night, curled up with my fluffy 10lb pup, enjoying my show as it depicted a serial killer on the loose in a small town.  lights were off.  stars were out.  everything was quiet aside from the creepy music on the television....

and then BAM.  the bedroom door slammed shut.

hadn't i closed it fully before bed?  perhaps not...i tried to convince myself that the changing air pressure from the air conditioning was to blame as my pup high-tailed it to the door, growling as terrifyingly as a small shitpoo can, sniffing and trying to peer under the door at the possible assailant.  he paced the blocked bedroom entryway, periodically returning to the door to sniff and snarl.



my heart was racing.  i tried to convince myself that it was just the air conditioning.

did i remember to lock the back door before bed?  yes, definitely.

where would i hide if someone had, in fact, broken in?  i debated how funny the bed would look if i were to slide myself under the mattress.  i wished i had a golf club handy so that i could pull a mrs. tiger woods on the ass of a bad guy.  i prayed that, in the event someone were in the house, they would be conveniently distracted by the flat screen hanging on the wall downstairs.  or maybe they'd confuse my pup for a german shepherd.

i stayed in bed, and eventually drifted off to sleep.

waking this morning, relieved to not awake with stab wounds in my chest, i hurriedly got ready and rejected my fears from the previous night.  upon coming downstairs, i checked the living room.

tv still on the wall?  check.  appliances still where they belong?  check.  windows closed?  check.

i grabbed my purse, kissed my pup goodbye, and headed out.

...at which point i discovered that the front door was unlocked.  and my heart stopped.

so, here i sit, safely in my office, trying my damndest to remember whether or not i remembered to lock the front door when i came in from the gym last night.  bags in hand, scurrying to get my pup out the door without incident, did i turn the deadbolt?  was it forgetfulness on my part, or...?

i'm still going to watch criminal minds tonight.  but i'm bringing a golf club to bed with me.

the nice guy

i am in love with a nice guy.  but i haven't always been.

a thoughtful friend brought something to my attention yesterday: the way my boyfriend handles my insecurities is sexy.  if you're not sure to what i'm referencing, check out my last post.

and my friend was right - it was sexy, and it is sexy.  what might seem like a small act of kindness to some is, to me, an incredible turn-on.

a "nice guy" (ng) has subtler ways of "sexy" that the not-so-nice-guys can't touch.

i am off limits to all but my ng, i'll never look back, and i hope to always be appreciative of the ng awesomeness.

if you don't have one of your own, i suggest you find yourself one.  and asap.  here's why.

let's call the not-so-nice-guys "bad boys", if only for ease.  to the dismay of the ng world, these bad boys are constantly pursued by women of all shapes, sizes, ages, and confidence levels.  but why?

why the emotionally masochistic female behavior?

bad boys are confident.  confidence is sexy, even when it's baseless.  bad boys seem unattainable.  seemingly difficult to predict, with a hard shell covering what we hope is a soft and gentle center, we hope to be "the one" who has what it takes to break them of their misguided lifestyles.  they're sure to see the light, as soon as we give them the opportunity to realize how effing fabulous we are.  they won't be able to live without us.  eventually they'll return the favor and repay all of our hard work in forms of affection, respect, and adoration.

right?

i've tried out this route a time or two.  i gave the bad boys the benefit of the doubt.

didn't return my call?  he probably missed it.  i'll call him again.  i'm sure he's incredibly busy - maybe he even lost his phone.  poor thing!

he doesn't ask me out on dates, but we spend time together when it's convenient for him.  i love just hanging out, i'm sure he just likes to spend quality time with me rather than wasting money on wining and dining.  he'll treat me like a princess when we get more serious...

prefers to have me hang with his friends instead of mine?  well, he hasn't met mine yet.  i'm sure he's just nervous, and is afraid my friends won't like him.  he's working up the courage to make a good impression.  i should just come to him and take the pressure off.

cancelled our plans because he's too busy?  it's clearly legitimate.  no way he's spending time with other girls, or prefers spending time with his friends over me.  he hasn't seen me in a week.  poor guy, he must miss me.  if only his life weren't so stressful.

excuses, excuses, excuses...we create them in order to avoid the thought that perhaps these guys just don't give half a damn about us.  and it's a waste of our time.

i once dated a guy who'd suggest i meet him after i got out of work and we'd do dinner.  all excited, i'd make sure i looked my best upon leaving the office and would drive to meet him at his place (he never came my way) anticipating a romantic evening he may have planned for me.

i'd park, let myself in (i'm a modern woman, no need for chivalry), and find him lounging on the couch.  in a dirty tshirt and sweats.  "aww..." i'd think, "he's so comfortable with me now, he's able to relax and be himself.  he knows he doesn't need to impress me."  i'd happily drop down beside him, asking him about his day without being asked about my own.  no problem.  "what do you want to do for dinner?" i'd ask. "well, i got hungry, so i ate a bunch of peanuts and other snacks.  i'm not hungry anymore.  let's watch football.  you o.k. with that?"

what'd i do at this point?  did i object, question him as to why he hadn't waited for me while i hurried over immediately after work?  did i suggest leaving his comfortable man cave so that we could snag take-out, a compromise which entailed a slight inconvenience for him?  no way.  i smiled, quelled my hunger pains, and provided evening entertainment until he was ready for me to go home.

and so it continued.  i didn't know any better...or did i?

no self-respecting woman puts up with the above shit forever.  relationships are a give and take operation, and excuses are only those: excuses.

we want to see the best in bad boys, and believe that there is some legitimate rationale behind their inconsiderate behavior.  let me tell you what it is: egocentricity.  their needs before yours.  their friends before yours.  their feelings before yours.  that is, if they even take the time to question what your feelings might be, or to contemplate the effect their choices have on you.

perhaps they'll grow out of it.  but it's not your job to wait around and find out.  don't waste your time.

while we're busy making excuses for bad boy behavior, abhoring the possibility that these "men" may just not effing care about us, the ngs are waiting in the wings, watching and wondering when we're ever going to learn.  they "get" what we don't.  they hear the bad boys talk.  if you haven't read "he's just not that into you", snag yourself a copy.  it was written by man.  and i suspect that, at heart, he's a ng.

when i first met my ng, i was in the midst of dating a slew of bad boys.  casually dating the cocky, suave, undependable love 'em and leave 'ems of the world.  as soon as my ng and i got to talking, i could tell he was different.

he was modest.  he was intelligent.  he asked questions.  and he listened.

when he didn't ask for my number, it drove me crazy.  alas, one of the trickier aspects of snagging a nice guy is making them feel confident enough to get things started.  and so, eventually, i forced my number on him.

our first hang-out?  an official date.  a nice date.  he opened doors, he was polite, he again asked questions and listened.  he made it clear that he wanted to impress me, he cared about my thoughts, my feelings, and was making an effort.

nice guys make an effort.  they make it clear that they want you.
nice guys don't assume you're interested in them just because they're so damn awesome.
nice guys call.  nice guys show up when expected.  nice guys are dependable.
nice guys aren't so blinded by their own "awesomeness" that they don't have time to think about you.
nice guys realize that you have feelings, too.  and that you are awesome.
nice guys are straight forward.  nice guys tell you what they're thinking.
nice guys don't need a harem of women to make themselves feel like a man.
nice guys work to earn physical affection.  and they appreciate it.
nice guys care about who you care about, and share in your world.
nice guys don't have a hard shell to crack.  they don't play games.
nice guys give a damn.

i now leave the office and head home to my ng.  i am greeted with affection and a "how was your day?"  he still listens.  he still opens doors.  he still cares.  i don't have to question his motives, or wonder if he's out prowling for ladies when i'm not around.  he takes the time to be romantic, to do the little things that make me swoon.

and he's effortlessly sexy.

he doesn't need a playboy wardrobe to knock me off my feet.  he doesn't need to maintain an air of mystery to keep me interested.

he engages in my world, and it turns me on.  he talks to my friends.  he loves them.  and it's hot.  he spends time with my family.  he supports them when needed.  he welcomes me into his world.  sharing worlds is sexy.

if he thinks i'm sick, he'll make pharmacy runs late at night.  he takes care of me.

when he sees me being trampled by others, he protects me.  he stands up for me when i don't stand up for myself.

he is my confidant.  my thoughtful lover.  my adviser.  my very best friend.

when you meet 'em, you'll know that they're different.  go for the ng.  don't settle for less.