Facebook (and social media in general) are destructive to the soul

You have to delete.  Deleting ex-boyfriends/whatevers/etc. is the only way to save your precious little soul from being attacked by relentless, unexpected tidbits of information that storm into your consciousness through the “internets.”  The bastards.

For example, you’re having a perfectly happy Friday…like a really wonderful, sun-shiney, doing no work, happy Friday.  It’s the kind of day, where worries aren’t something you can fathom and your most pressing concern is what kind of delicious treat you will have for lunch.  It’s THAT kind of luscious happiness.

Then since you aren’t really doing any work, you decide to login to facebook.  (This seems innocent enough.)  You read your emails, read everyone’s latest status updates, peruse some random photos of people you don’t know, then suddenly you can an itch.  (This is where things go wrong.)  You quietly ask yourself…I wonder what such-and-such ex is up to?  Involuntarily, your curiosity transports you to their page.  Within seconds, you are staring at the casual flirtations of some lovely new face that you have never seen before.  (This is where your day gets ruined.)

Who is this trick?  When did she show up?  Is her body as cute as her face or is this some deceptive photography?  There is only way to answer these questions.  Google.  (Damn you, google, damn you.)

So I googled.  She’s a [insert really awesome job that makes me jealous], she’s a recent addition to his life, and she’s really adorable.  A “this sucks” feeling stabs me repeatedly.  I allow myself to wallow in the fact that she’s probably effortlessly wonderful at all the things I suck at…she probably never has chipped nail polish and always has expertly applied makeup, she probably has a really clean bedroom, and can’t stand to miss a work out, she’s probably always on time, and can’t wait to get married, she probably doesn’t google/facebook stalk, she’s probably perfect and wonderful and charming…whoa.  Deep breath.  Punch self in face.  Come back to reality.

Who cares about her?  I’m pretty bad-ass myself.  So what if I can never keep my nails perfectly polished?  I’m pretty damn cute and I have great hair.  I’m not thin and I hate the gym, but I’ve lost ten pounds this month.  My room is a mess, but it’s filled with adorable dresses.  My job is amazing and every single day I get to help people and change the world (it’s a very small piece of the world…but it’s mine) and someday it will reward me handsomely.    Did I mention that I have fabulous hair?  I also have a PINK frickin cruiser bike, and I’m super witty.

So…no tears for me, no wallowing, no feeling like just because I’m not a size 2 that I’m not good enough…and no letting anyone make me feel bad about myself (especially me – preventing abuse starts at home, after all).   You know what this calls for???  Oh yeah, I’m going there…

Shamvasion

He immediately changes the subject as the familiar look of panic flickers in my eyes. Actually, it more than flickers…it settles into the date like an unwanted overnight guest. It doesn’t matter how many times he changes the subject to light hearted, inconsequential topics, panic is here for the night. I am Sham, and Sham does NOT like talk of the future.

Fuede McMandals, however, will not go down without a solid fight. He embraces my panic, hell, the man lathers up with my panic and blows little mocking, panic bubbles in my face. Fairly infuriating…to say the very least. He’ll tell me he really likes me, I’ll say “thanks.” He’ll talk about when we meet each other’s families, I’ll make “your mom” jokes. He’ll tell me I’m beautiful, I’ll tell him I hate his mandals, fuede, and unbuttoned, oversized shirts. He just keeps plugging along. He laughs at my crazy, ignores my mean, and thinks I’m cute when I’m crabby. On top of all that, he plays me this song:

Sample lyrics from Billy Joel’s Innocent Man

I know you’re only protecting yourself
I know you’re thinking of somebody else
Someone who hurt you
But I’m not above
Making up for the love
You’ve been denying you could ever feel
I’m not above doing anything
To restore your faith if I can
I know you don’t want to hear what I say
I know you’re gonna keep turning away
But I’ve been there and if I can survive
I can keep you alive
I’m not above going through it again
I’m not above being cool for a while
If you’re cruel to me I’ll understand

What kind of fool puts up with this BS and then does such sweet things??? Well I guess for the time being, he’s my fool.  Stupid heart…why won’t you work properly? Piece of trash heart. Get.it.together.

RelaSHAMship

Bad news.  I’m in a relashamship.  A relashamship is an interaction where one party believes they are in or working steadily towards a relationship and the other party is entirely oblivious to any such level of commitment.  There are two main characters…Relationshipper and Sham.  Relationshipper (R for short) is usually great. R is all about making plans, futuristic talk of children and vacations together on the beach, cuddling, canoodling, late night phone calls, PDAs and the like.  Sham, on the other hand, is just chillin.  Sham is happy to be there, loves the attention, thinks R is great, probably showered and shaved for R, but also doesn’t really miss R when R is gone.  Sham just refocuses attention to S or T or work or the wall or sparkly things…oooh sparkly things.

Anyhow, I am Sham.  Latest date guy (fuede) is most definitely R. He is so adorably R, I wish I could be all R’in it up with him…but I am sham and sham is a stone.  A cold, hard stone. 

I might grow out of Sham and spread my little love dove wings to rise up and meet R, but at the same time R could just as easily do a nose dive into Shamville (that’s where things get UGLY – unless of course, I’m still chillin in Shamville too…then things just get fun).   Needless to say, relashamships suck (like your mom). 

This insightful view into Shamville, USA has been brought to you by your favorite crazy girl,

Fanfrickingtastic

P.S. This relashamship revelation has provided remarkable insight into my last “relationship”…I was R in that one.  Just in case you were confused…being R blows (also like your mom).

Dating, schmating…

Nothing can make you miss an ex-boyfriend faster, than knowing what’s out there on the dating scene. Suddenly, the questionably “little” flaws of an Ex seem downright stellar.

• You drank 9 days a week??? Fabulous, Ex-boyfriend, you’re really committed to your hobbies.
• You failed to mention your lovely wife and children??? Oh, Ex-boyfriend, I’m sorry. Since when is being slightly forgetful such a big flaw?! Never.
• You lied as often as you opened your mouth??? What lies? Ex-boyfriend, you’re just a creative story teller (and you are soooo right, your secretary’s baby looks nothing like you. She’s the liar! Obviously).

The dating world cannot possibly be that bad that anyone would miss an ex-boyfriend of the above caliber. Au contraire, dear reader, it is. It sadly, sadly is.

I’ve had several dates in the last two weeks with men of extremely varying qualities. Yet, somehow, one theme runs through them all. Eventhough I am dressed for these dates in really adorable and modest business attire (love post-work happy hour dates!), I still consistently feel like I am wearing a sign that says “fresh meat.” It’s as if they are only entertaining my hilarious stories long enough to get 3+ glasses of wine in me so that they can suggest, we go “watch a movie at their [shockingly, conveniently located] apartment.” No thanks, losers. I much prefer stumbling home to my roommie, so that we can laugh [and sometimes cry] about how lame men are.

So, Universe, I’m just going to put this out there. Is it possible to go a date with a guy who might actually just appreciate me without “trying to watch a movie with me” on the first night? Any chance that there is a guy out there who might just walk me home to my door and leave happily with only a kiss? Any chance that you could send him in a hurry? [That last request was just plain greedy...I'll take him any time. Well, since I'm being greedy, if he would also sing to me that would be AWESOME. I'll put in my request for "Hey Jude" now so that he can learn the lyrics.] Many thanks, Universe!

Love you lots,

Fanfrickingtastic

Made of Bullshit

There are only two worthwhile reasons to see Made of Honor:

1. Patrick Dempsey, AND…
2. Patrick Dempsey

The rest of the movie could quite easily be described as fantastical. How so? It’s not intended to be a fairy tale, but when you see a man sacrifice everything (including his pride) to be with a woman, you have to wonder what dream world you have entered. This is just not reality, at least not any reality I have ever experienced.

I am sure my past boyfriends, think they have sacrificed for me. I have put them through some serious stabbing-eyeball-with-pencil situations. For example, my sister’s three hour dance recital…or a road trip with my mother…or moving into my new apartment on the 6th floor with no elevator AND a whole lot of shoes. However, these are not sacrifices. These are examples of simply being in a relationship, they are just things you do (and you hopefully keep the bitching to a minimum)…I suffer your mother, so let’s call it fair. [Note: not all mothers, the more recent ex-mothers have been completely lovely - your sons are a different f'in story]

A sacrifice is quite different, and something I have not experienced. I have never had a man debate, whether he should consider moving to be in the city that I love. I have never had a man wonder whether his career choices matched with “our” dreams for the future. Hell, I’ve never had him consider me in his career choices at all. In fact, I sacrifice even when they are in the wrong (like driving to where they live so they can apologize to me). Sweet, mary mother of god…what was I thinking?

So guess what boys? I’m done giving. Thanks to this stupid, piece of crap movie…I’m out. No more trips, no more time, no more spending, no more picking you up when you fall, no more shower/car/wherever special treats…no more, no more, no more. I’m spent, and I’ve got not more to give. The sacrifice-ship ends here.

If you’re wondering who to blame, follow Michael Jackson’s advice and start with the (lame ass) man in the mirror.

OH and ladies, if you have any inclination toward chick flicks (which I most certainly do), let me save you some cash…skip this one.

Oops…rare apology to an ex

“You’re one of those guys. Those guys who say and do whatever feels easiest at the time to get what they want without regard for how it affects anyone else. Those guys that you hate, because they should be caged and never allowed near women. Well, don’t kid yourself, you are one of them.” – Me to anonymous Ex

I let him have it. A switch in my brain flipped, and there was no stopping me from saying what I knew would hurt him most…and I truly believed it. He was one of those guys. I couldn’t think of any other explanation for his behavior. He loves me. He loves me. He’s not sure. He doesn’t love me. He loves me. He loves me. He’s not sure. Insert a few cross country trips into that sentence and you start to form a clear picture of why the above conversation took place.

So why apologize? Because I’ve been reading some DC Douchebag blogs lately. Here’s a sample from my favorite DC Douchebag, Roissy in DC:

No matter how badly the first date went and how much she doesn’t want to hear from you, if you don’t call a girl for a second date it will leave her confused and less full of herself. You will have lowered her self-esteem and made it easier for the next man to nut inside her. The good karma this selfless act generates will return to you a hundred easy first dates that end the next morning.

———–

I challenge my male readers — particularly my beta readers — who have girlfriends to an asshole experiment. When your GF makes you genuinely angry I want you to yell at her “SHUT THE FUCK UP”. Credibility will be added if you do it in public. This will be tough for you to do, but my presence will be with you, like the unholy spirit. Visualize your balls physically growing larger when she says something that pisses you off…I believe some of you will become intoxicated by the power of asshole.

After reading these…and there are many more from many more male bloggers in DC, I knew my “one of those guys” tirade to anonymous ex was completely misguided.

So anonymous ex, I’m sorry. You are not one of those guys. You aren’t even a B Team bench warmer.

An Open Letter to Jordin Sparks, Re: Being an Idiot

Dear Jordin Sparks,

I know you are new to being famous and singing with Chris Brown is a guaranteed hit, but seriously you can say no to some songs. For example, your latest single “No Air.” I hate it. Here are some sample lyrics, just in case you forgot.

“No Air,” aka “Stupid piece of trash, dumbest song on earth, perpetuating ridiculous stereotype that women fall to pieces every time a guy leaves”:

But how do you expect me
to live alone with just me
‘Cause my world revolves around you
It’s so hard for me to breathe

If you ain’t here, I just can’t breathe
It’s no air, no air

I read online that you have never been in love, so maybe you were confused when you decided to sing this song. Let me educate you on break ups…

Dating DC Nerds???

Gasp! Is it possible that there is a worthwhile breed of men that I have not dated in DC? (This is, of course, excluding the uber beautiful and ultra fabulous gays that populate my neighbor, you are always a worthwhile breed…any team switchers?) Anyhow, according to DC Hero, nerds are an excellent source of man material…if you can put up with their awkwardness, computer-game-lovingness, and anime porn (which apparently is not so bad, I’ll add it to my weekend “to watch” list…JUST KIDDING future stalkers of my blog).A few questions though:

1. DC is pretty much chock full of nerds. How am I supposed to tell a nice, dependable nerd from a DC Douchebag nerd? Is politics the defining difference? I’m guessing if they like politics more than video games and comic books, then they lean more toward DC Douchebag nerd and hence should be avoided at ALL COSTS.
2. How am I supposed to tell a nice, dependable nerd (whose qualities include treating women like gold, being honest and nice, having a scrawny/fat physique, and being fragile) from the DC Desperado (whose qualities include wanting nothing but to please his date, falling in love instantly, typically being scrawny/fat, loving computers (especially mac computers), and being very fragile)? It seems quite tricky.
3. Let’s say I do manage to weed out a nerd, I am not wholesome. Not in the slightest. Does this prevent me from being a nerd miner?
4. Additionally, in the interest of full disclosure, I like to shop, say meanish (but always funny) witty comments, watch trash tv, and I own far too many pink things. I also like to take extremely long showers, likely using up all of the hot water. Finally, I have never bought a computer game (not even Sims), I hate Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and I can never correctly remember a quote from a movie or tv show. Should I just give up the whole nerd dating bit now???

Ex Identification

As a twice un-engaged woman (yes, you read that correctly – people like to marry me or attempt to), I have many ex’s. It’s probably important to clarify them (should any of them ever read this, I would prefer that they don’t get all confused about their status in my heart or definite lack thereof). The key Ex’s involved are:

• Fiance #1 – any stories involving being a drunk and an inability to quit my family (even though i quit him) will be in reference to this man.
• Fiance #2 – he probably won’t come up, since he’s generally a wonderful human being just not right for me (and hence not great for comical stories of douchebaggery). Actually, he may come up as the source of my bad relationship karma. How do you right your bad karma? I’m taking any and all suggestions (it’s probably not through blogging about my ex’s. Shit. I’m doomed).
• The Repeater – first love, first cause of a broken heart, first reason to send death threats (just kidding-ish). He came back strong for a second round in between the fiances, but still managed to majorly screw it up. The Repeater’s stories often involve disastrous results for my head and heart.
• The Ex, occasionally referred to as boyfriendish person – the most recent in a line of resounding success stories and the catalyst of my DCD dating tour. We’re somewhere between nowhere and everywhere.

Welcome to the blog, boys. I hope you enjoy your stay here.

Why I have not been blogging…

Reason #1

Two words: Google.Reader.

I have become an addict. In one week, I managed to add 57 blogs to my google reader. This level of blogmittment would be doable, if the blogs I read wouldn’t update so damn often. Sadly, I am at the point where I either need to quit GR or somehow magically manage to get paid for spending 3 hours/day educating myself via RSS feeds. Anyone know of any jobs that would pay me to indulge my addiction???

Reason #2

Two words: The Ex

It is difficult to blog about DCDs and desperados (though I have seriously sad updates on both), when the Ex returns. More on him soon…I’m planning on making him guest blog for me as a form of penance.