A Break Up Letter

 

Today, after a bit of a serious diagnosis, my doctor has told me that I must give up all fried foods (sigh... ok), bacon (really?), sausage (I'm okay with that) and cheese (WHAT THE FUCK?).

 

Anyone who know me knows that I eat mac and cheese at least five times a week. This is no exaggeration. How will I ever live without it??

 

Unfortunately, after much pleading and a few tears (literally) my doctor has forced me to let my habit go. And so here it is, my break up letter:

 

 

Dear Mac and Cheese,

I wish I never had to say goodbye to you, Mac and Cheese. I wish that our creamy and noodley moments could have lasted a lifetime. Trust me, quitting you is the hardest thing I have ever had to do. You stole my heart when you were nothing more than a bright orange mess from a Kraft box. You won it forever when you became organic and white.

I know others have judged you for being easy and cheap. But we both know I never have. I loved you for those exact reasons. I forsook all others for you. I let vegetables rot in my fridge, cans of beans collect dust in my pantry, casserole dishes remain unused for months on end. All for you!

Your magic powder sauce, your strangely tiny noodles, the food poisoning I got from you when someone added bad bacon once. All these memories will be eternally etched in my heart.

I already miss you.

You should know, Quinoa has asked me out tonight. For a year I have shot him down because of you. But tonight I have said yes. I will probably even sleep with him. I know he will never love me the way you did. But he isn’t trying to kill me so I feel it is time to give him a chance. You don’t care about my life, Mac and Cheese. Or my cholesterol levels or my liver. You never have. But Quinoa does. And I deserve that.

Our relationship had become toxic. Quite literally. And because of you I must now undergo surgery and radioactive treatments. I should have got tested long ago. I knew better than to take you to bed unprotected. Eat you out of bowls while lying naked and unaware. It pains me to even think of it.

I’ll always love you, I truly will. The time we had together will forever bring me happiness and I hope you can one day forgive me for leaving you this way. Remember that one time you bet me I couldn’t add real cheese and make you taste any better? And I did? And you did? And I ate two boxes of you and vomited. Oh, how we laughed. That’s the day I knew I was in love with you.

I didn’t mean this farewell to be so lengthy but walking away from you was never easy for me, was it? Lately, however, you have gotten violent and I have seen you in restaurants with other women.  I don’t want to be “one of your women”, Mac and Cheese.  I’m better than that and I wish you would have thought the same.

Sincerely,

The One Girl Who Loved You More Than Anything

An Open Letter To Titanfall

Dear Titanfall,

My original intent with this letter was to tell you to go fuck yourself how much I miss my boyfriend. I had planned on complaining about the amount of time and affection that he has put into his Xbox since March 11^th. However, I know this is all your fault not entirely your fault since South Park, Dark Souls II and some other game I can’t remember all came out this month as well. Oh! And let’s not forget that he is still stuck on last month’s Plant vs. Zombies: Garden Warfare (a game far superior to yours because… well… Peashooter).

But as I composed my complaint, I realized that you might be the best thing that has happened in our relationship. At least from my perspective. And so I am rewriting you both a thank you and a what-the-hell-is-happening-in-this-game letter. Let’s start with the latter, shall we?

Really? What the Hell is Happening in This Game?

1.     WALLS

Let me get this straight. Are you telling me that the chaingun thingy that the titans use to UTTERLY destroy each other does not have the power to pierce through a simple wall? I mean, I see some of the walls have sustained previous damage. Please tell me from what fucking weapon?!? Because nothing Wil has played has done any damage to any of the buildings! And I know they are not indestructible. Every map shows post-apocalyptic destruction to everything. In other words, your fake-planet-robots-dropping-from-the-skies game has a few unreal elements to it don’t you think? Walls should blow up.

2.     RETARDED A.I.

I know ‘retarded’ is not a politically correct term so I apologize if I have offended anyone, but seriously… what the fuck is happening with your A.I. bots? Do you intentionally put them in Wil’s way? Because those morons always seem to be running around aimlessly EVERYWHERE. Minions my ass. And why the hell do they look so much like the pilots? It confuses us drunk gamer girlfriends who are trying to keep up with what is going on… which brings me to my third point.

3.     NOT WINE FRIENDLY

Holy shit, you have a fast camera. It is dizzying. After half a bottle of wine, I get motion sick just glancing at the TV. Look, gamer guys have girlfriends too. And we girls are usually drinking. So when we try to help out (Thank you for the corner screen with the arrows… my boyfriend loves it when I constantly shout “BEHIND YOU!” or “TO YOUR LEFT!”. It’s not annoying to him at all.) we become very sick very easily. Slow the fuck down. Please.

4.     THE NAME TITANFALL

Okay, I know there must be a reason you named the game this and I am sure I could just Google it and find out but I’m too lazy and I don’t mind sounding like a dumbass. Here’s the deal. I have spent hours, HOURS, trying to figure out why you are called “Titanfall”. At first I thought, ”Oh, it’s because the titans fall when they die.” Seemed rational enough. But a stupid reason to name a game. Then I thought, “Hmm, there is a lot of orange and red in this game and those are fall colors. Hence Titan FALL.” But I realized the makers probably didn’t have vaginas so... no. Well, maybe it is because the titans drop from the sky. Yes! That must be it! Ah, but then it would be called Titandrop. So what the hell? Why the ridiculous name?

5.     REPETITION

I know, I know! Most games are repetitive. But other than the map changing and about five different game scenarios, I feel like Wil is literally in that movie Groundhog Day. Except in the future, and as a pilot, and on another planet. But other than that he is in the EXACT the same dilemma as Bill Murray was. Look at Wil! He’s running around shooting things! Now he’s climbing a titan! Now he’s peeleing back something on its head and is shooting it! Now he’s repelling around buildings! Now he’s in a mech suit! Now he’s not! Now he getting stepped on! Now he’s dead! And repeat. For six to twelve hours.

6.     STORY LINE

I still have no idea what the fuck is going on. Neither does Wil. Why is everyone killing each other?

7.     CAPTURE THE FLAG

(deep sigh) Jesus. Have you never even seen a movie about war? Read a book about war? Because in no history movie or story, or in history itself, did a great battle get won because some guy stole a flag and brought it back to base camp. Never. Maybe in paintball, yes. But this is supposed to be a war, right? IT MAKES NO SENSE! And it pisses me off. I mean, if all Hitler had to do was run across France, grab a flag and run back, the outcome could have been much different. Germans are quick little bastards. (shaking my head)

Now that I have gotten that off my chest, I think it is appropriate to finally thank you for all the good you have done for my relationship.

How You Saved My Relationship

1.     CATAN

Yep. I downloaded Catan on my phone and I now play it during most of Wil’s game time. I’ve gotten pretty fucking amazing at it, actually. And he doesn’t interrupt me or bother me or tell me to stop. Just beautiful silence as I collect wood and monopoly card everyone’s ass. It makes me feel closer to Wil. Seriously. Plus Wil is the handsomest when his mouth is shut.

2.     HE NOW PRETENDS TO LISTEN

Gamer guys have this awesome talent at nodding during a game and pretending they are hearing everything you are saying. Which means I can go on and on for hours about my day, my girlfriends, what I ate, my future exercise plans, hair color options, what to wear tomorrow and so on. And he can’t go anywhere. He’s stuck pretend listening. I LOVE IT!!

3.     WE HAVE BETTER CONVERSATIONS

Conversations about his day used to be very monotone recaps of his naps and work schedule. Now they are exciting play by play actions on his leveling up and how/when he will reach the next generation or how his team was awful or which weapon choice he used to win Attrition or what burn cards he currently has. It is animated and loud and adorable. And makes for a much better story than, “I ate Taco Bell, watched a Sponge Bob marathon and slept for three hours.”

4.     HE FEELS GUILTY

Whoa! Calm down! Guilt is not always bad. No. No. No. After thirty some-odd hours of game time, Wil is starting to feel like he is neglecting me. So what does he do to make up for it? Oh, I get presents, and loving texts all day, and planned museum dates, and grand romantic gestures. I’m in girlfriend heaven right now. Speaking of which, when the fuck is the next Titanfall coming out?

5.     FINGER AND THUMB CONTROL

Oh, I’m watching his hands get exercise. Need I say more?

So despite the fact that your game makes no sense, has no storyline and is not at all observer friendly (it really is a weird ass game) I must thank you from the bottom of my heart for all that you have done for Wil and I. Keep up the good work!

 

Yours Truly,

Seeks

My Own Advice

 

A few weeks ago I had a good friend tell me I never take my own advice. Mostly she meant this about men/dating so my initial reaction was, “God damnit! Yes I do!” But that’s just me being an asshole. The truth is, I really don’t. In any area of my life. Here are a few examples of advice I have given friends:

1.      Friend: I hate living in Michigan! It’s cold for 8 months out of the year. Ugh! I just want to live somewhere with nice weather and better job opportunities. This place really sucks.

Me: Then just move. It’s literally that simple. Look, either pick somewhere you want to live and draw up a game plan on how to get there or stay where you are and quit bitching about it. You are the only one with the power to make change in your life. So make change and hush up already.  

Sucking At My Own Advice: You’ve read my blog, right? I’m still in Dallas. I’m still complaining.  

2.      Friend: All I do is eat chips and Milky Ways all day. I want to eat healthy but it sucks cooking for one.

Me: That’s awful! You have to have a balanced diet! For Christ’s sake, you’re not 21 anymore. Plus eating for one should make cooking easier. And Milky Ways? Really? Do they even make those anymore? How are you alive right now?

Sucking At My Own Advice: Five words… Champagne and mac and cheese. Oh yeah, I mix it up sometimes. I had some taco bell this weekend with some broccoli cheese soup. Might have even had some potatoes covered in cheddar and half a bag of Doritos. But that was the most food I’d had in a week. Usually, I do one meal a day and a bottle of bubbly. That’s where my ‘balanced diet’ is right now. So the real question should be how the fuck am I still alive?

3.      Friend: I finally bought that purse I was talking about!

Me: You were talking about a purse?

Girlfriend: Yeah. The Gucci one for $400. The one I bought last year is starting to get worn.

Me: Whoa! $400 on a purse? Jesus, that seems reckless! You should seriously rethink your spending habits.

Sucking At My Own Advice: I spend $80+ a month on audio books. Yeah, you heard me. Audio books. That comes to $960 a year in case you can't do math. And I saw her purse. It’s fabulous.

4.      Friend: I have so many back problems. I can’t even get comfortable when I lay down. It’s why I can’t exercise any more.

Me: But you have to exercise. You should be doing yoga at least four times a week. It’s great for staying in shape and it would totally fix your back.

Sucking At My Own Advice: My idea of exercising is taking the stairs to Wil’s apartment. Which I only do one out of ten times. And that’s usually because I have to pee and the elevator takes forever. Oh, and yoga? I do yoga about once a month. For 45 minutes. And, trust me, I have mastered the art of half ass-ing even that. I am hands down the unhealthiest woman I know and should never be giving exercise advice to anyone. Ever.

5.      Friend: Blah blah blah… my boyfriend… blah blah blah blah blah.

Me: Blah blah blah… leave him… blah blah blah blah blah.

Sucking At My Own Advice: Wil would have to murder a puppy and a couple hundred non-crying children before I would consider leaving him. Either that or become a Yugoslavian. Those fuckers are mean! (Is Yugoslavia even a country anymore?)

So my goal this year is to take some of my own advice. But not #3. Audio books are the only reason I am able to fool people into thinking I am smart. And obviously not #5. He has really cute ears and he puts out on a regular basis. Try finding that combo in a man. It’s damn near impossible.

Post script: I started getting angry emails today about my lack of updates. I’d apologize but I wouldn’t mean it. I’ve been busy watching TV and playing Catan. Serious shit, you know? BUT I will be better at it this week, kiddies. Might even do two updates today. Depending on whether or not I hit the bar for some green beer. Green beer and writing never mixes well. Just look at Oscar Wilde... green beer awful.

 

- Fin

 

Let 'Er Rip!

There is nothing more fabulous than a Saturday Brazilian waxing at 9am. Who needs coffee when you can have all your asshole hairs ripped right out of you? No one, I say. No one.

I’m going to be honest; last Saturday wasn’t my first Brazilian rodeo. Or even my first waxing. I’ve been through this waxing shit far too often than I’d like to admit. I could have laser-ed this pubic mess into ‘never growing again’ for the amount of money I have spent tearing these babies out. But why be practical and miss out on all the pain? Why??

Okay, here’s how it usually works: I go in, take off my pants, lay on the table, shut my eyes, clench the sheets and wait for it to be over. (This is starting to sound like my sex with my ex.) Real simple, right? But that is not at all what I did this time.

Wax Lady: Go ahead and get ready while I check the wax. Do you remember how many weeks it’s been? (turns around)

Me: Sure. I think I’m at about 7 weeks. (Takes off shirt and bra. Starts taking off pants)
Wax Lady: (turns back around) Whoa! Why are you getting naked?
Me: I have no idea! You said get ready and I guess I instinctually thought that meant get naked!
Wax Lady: No… just your pants, remember?
Me: Oh my god. I am so embarrassed. I have no clue why I got naked.
Wax Lady: I have that effect on people.
Me: What the hell was I thinking?
Wax Lady: Don’t worry. You aren’t the first to do that.
Me: Yeah. But think about it… someone says ‘get ready’ and my subconscious decides that means nudity. Imagine if this had been a dentist appointment!

So, yep. That happened. And you can’t undo getting naked for a stranger. Even one that tears all the hairs out of your crotch.

And let’s be realistic about this. What the hell am I so embarrassed about anyway? Once you’ve been on all fours, ass cheeks spread and someone smearing wax on you from hole to hole, is there really any reason to blush about ANYTHING? I mean, I’m not even that intimate with my boyfriend… and we do the weird stuff.

Anyways, all of this got me to thinking. Of all the things we women do for men, Brazilian waxing is the fucking strangest. Seriously, men? This is what you want? Do you even understand what we go through and how odd this whole thing is? No? Well, let me enlighten you.

1.      Nothing is more awkward than having someone tell you, “Hold this here so I don’t wax your lips together.” Oh, you will hold. You will hold hard.

2.      Once someone has spread your ass cheeks apart and said, “Always save the best for last.” You feel obligated to tip 25%. Why? Because you both know it was worse for her than it was for you. She deserves every penny!

3.      Do you know how uncomfortable it is to have someone staring down your vulva in order to determine the best way to tackle your jungle problem while talking about the weather? Do you? No? Because now when someone says, “I can’t wait for it to warm up again,” my vagina clenches up a little. It probably always will.

4.      When it’s over, your vagina looks battered. It is red, swollen, dotted, bald, and angry. And this lady standing in front of you, the one who’s all smiling and talking about her kid’s soccer game, she has seen it. She has seen your vagina at its worse and you both have to pretend like the whole incident never happened.

See, men. See what we do for you? I think at this point every woman who has endured a Brazilian deserves cheesecake and a bottle of Merlot. It’s only fair. Make it happen.

Conversations With Kinks

Warning: The following blog is graphic in nature. If you are super religious or you have never been tied up, do not proceed. Actually, if you are super religious and no one's ever bound you, you probably stopped reading my blog ages ago. 

 

This morning I was on the phone with a friend whom I will call Kink-olicious. I know, this is a very weird pseudonym but she reads my blog and requested that this be her name. Let’s just call her Kinks for short.

Kinks is bisexual and very much into BDSM. For all you vanillas out there, BDSM means this:

Bondage Discipline

Dominance Submission
Sadism Masochism

She has also spent many years in polyamorous relationships (as primary and secondary) and has had more threesomes than most men have had partners.

Strangely, besides the friends I have made in Texas, the majority of my girlfriends are very sophisticated, educated, classy women in public but are sexual tigresses behind closed doors. Actually, all of them are. If you ever met Kinks, you would think she was the most innocent and sexually normal person on earth. Same with Hollywood, A., EVG, Michigan Girl, Eva, and… well, every female I know outside of this state. But you would wrong about these girls.

We are a strange lot, all of us. The fact that I am probably the least experienced and most innocent of the aforementioned group, speaks volumes as to what these women are capable of. In other words, any man who happens to land in a committed and long term relationship with one of my friends can be assured that he will have a long lasting, exciting and adventurous sex life.

I have to be honest, though. When it comes to bedroom antics, Kinks is the craziest of us. A. might be a close second, maybe even neck to neck, but Kinks… she almost scares me. Here’s a conversation we had in California on our way into one of the local watering holes.

Me: (noticing she is COVERED in bruises) Holy shit! What happened to you? You look like you were jumped into a gang!

Kinks: (lifting up her shirt) Look at my back. It’s purple! Kind of pretty if you look close enough.
Me: Dear god! Seriously. What happened to you??
Kinks: I had the best sex ever last night!
Me: With what? A rabid gorilla?
Kinks: No. Just one of my guys. He beat me with a shovel. It was amazing!
Me: A shovel?!?! Someone beat the shit out of you with a shovel and you enjoyed it?
Kinks: Oh yeah!
Me: If I man did that to me, I’d murder him! And use the shovel to bury his body. You know, so I wouldn’t get caught and arrested.
Kinks: It was fun. I admit, I’m a little sore today, but it was well worth it!
Me: You are so fucking weird. So weird.

So now you understand what I am dealing with here. Need more proof of her strange sex life.  Here are her rules for men:

1.      Don’t cry after sex. She will drive you out into the country and leave you there. True story.

I agree with this. Except the leaving them out in the country part. That’s too much effort.

2.      You need be willing to dominate her in bed at some point.

I am a switch outside of BDSM (top/bottom?), so I agree with this too.

3.      Sex less than three times a week will absolutely not cut it. And afternoon delights are a must.

Again, I agree.

4.      You better know how to tie a rope.

I don’t agree. In fact, keep your fucking rope away from me. Unless I can use it on you or you’re a rodeo clown and are about to leave for work.

5.      Your safe word better be creative.

Agreed. Don’t give me the “red” shit.

6.      You need to be skilled at whipping, swinging a bat, being a slave, and making fudge brownies with peanut butter.

All of those things sound awful. Who the hell eats fudge with peanut butter? Disagree!

7.      If you mind that she watches TV during sex, get the fuck out. The new Sherlock episode will not be missed!

Agreed. Except I am very far behind on Sherlock. Don’t judge!

Anyways, I’m sure there are more rules than just those. I’ll update you if need be. In the meantime, back to my morning conversation with Kinks!

Me: You know, there are times I that make sexual requests to Wil and he looks at me like I am either lying to him or I have lost my mind.
Kinks: He wouldn’t want to hear my requests.
Me: I used to think I was a pretty normal sexual person with just a slight edge, but sometimes I’ll tell him what I want or something I have a desire to try and his jaw will drop like I just stepped out of a porn movie. It’s like he’s doesn’t know whether to be shocked or happy or afraid.
Kinks: Is this good or bad?
Me: Good, I think. Definitely exciting. But I’m beginning to feel like he thinks I am much more experienced than what I really am. I want to say, “No! I’m so vanilla it isn’t even funny.” But I think I only believe that because I’ve known you for so long. I mean, I never got beat with a shovel, right? Never been tortured in a dungeon as a birthday present. So I’m nearly virginal.
Kinks: Yeah, you shouldn’t play never-have-I-ever with me. You’d lose.
Me: Most people would lose to you. But there has to be something you have never done before.
Kinks: There is!
Me: Do tell.
Kinks: I’ve never had a threesome with two dudes.
Me: Me neither. That sounds… uncomfortable.
Kinks: Oh, I want to. I want to in both scenarios.
Me: Both scenarios?
Kinks: Yeah. Once with two straight guys, both of whom are into me but couldn’t care less about each other. And then once with two bisexuals men. That way we all have fun.
Me: Jesus. You aren’t kidding are you?
Kinks: Nope.
Me: You’re going to do this, aren’t you?
Kinks: Hell yeah I am.
Me: You are so fucking weird. So weird.

 I really do love my friends. They make me feel so normal. And holy shit, they are entertaining! Just saying.

-  Fin

 

 

Not a Cosmo Article

Last night I had a free-to-myself-no-showers-watch-whatever-I-want-and-eat-Cool-Whip-straight-from-the-tub night. Which of course led to catching up with girlfriends and being on the phone for five hours. Ah, I love having a vagina!

The best call of the night was my conversation with Michigan girl. After her infamous breakup, she has started dating one of her good friends. Bad bad bad idea. I warned her weeks ago. Don’t do it! I yelled. Date a stranger and pretend you don’t know what he is capable of!

Michigan Girl, however, did not heed my advice. And so this conversation was inevitable.

Michigan Girl (MG): I think Michael wants to end things.
Me: Already?
MG: Yeah. He is showing a lot of the signs.
Me: Like what?
MG: Like calling less and hanging out less. I don’t know, I just feel it.
Me: Give me specifics. You are being way too vague!
MG: Well, I read this article in Cosmo about the 8 signs that he is going to dump you.
Me: Cosmo? Are you serious? You are taking life advice from Cosmo?!?
MG: You have to read it. You will understand once you see what the signs are.
Me: Send me a link, I’ll look at it now.
MG: (emails… http://www.lhj.com/relationships/divorce/dating-tips/six-signs-youre-getting-dumped/)
Me: Whoa. This is Ladies Home Journal. Not Cosmo.
MG: Same thing.
Me: No. Ladies Home Journal is FAR WORSE! And this is just 6 signs, not 8.
MG: But read it. It’s dead on.

After reading this fabulous advice column on getting dumped, which is obviously written by an expert in the field of men and relationships, I was astonished that MG could be stupid enough to buy into this crap. (I love you MG, if you are reading this, but I am still laughing at you.)

Because I care about you so much, kiddies, I have decided to share this bit of genius writing with you. Obviously, all my commentary is in bold red letters. Hope you enjoy.

SIX SIGNS YOU ARE GETTING DUMPED

Worried that you're about to get bonked with the breakup stick? Here are some tip-offs to an oncoming ouster -- and some advice to help you stop the madness, or step off before you get stepped on.

By Amy Keyishian

At this point I am thinking, “Right on, Amy Keyishian! I love this step off before you get stepped on advice that women have such a hard time following! Please, do go on.”

Split-up Sign #1: You never get to hear that cute cell phone ring you downloaded just for him.

Who the hell downloads a cute ring for their boyfriend? What are we, 12? Look at the caller ID like a normal person.

The Symptoms: You guys used to talk several times a week, but lately, the calls come less often. He says he's busy at work, but it just doesn't ring true. Just like your phone.

Okay. He calls less often. This is might actually be a bad sign. Proceed…

What's Behind It: After the initial rush of crush endorphins, he's worried that he's become whipped. Regular check-ins are a sign, to him, that he's really getting committed, and the routine makes him feel trapped. Hence, his little phone rebellion.

(Cough cough) Bullshit (cough cough)… Guys do NOT think this way, ladies. If he isn’t calling there is no secret mystery reason. He just doesn’t want to talk to you. It really is that simple. If a guy is into you, his calls or text will either increase or stay the same. If he is no longer into you, he’ll slow down or stop altogether. Phone rebellion, my ass. He’s very obviously SHOWING you that he is losing interest.  

Oh, and there is always the crazy possibility that he is actually busy at work. If this is true, his calls will resume as normal in a week or two.

Salvage it: Become less available. Make cool plans, particularly ones that he'd find fun, and become tantalizingly busy. Once he sees that as an independent chickie, you're not going to entrap his free spirit, he should snap out of it.

Really, Amy, that’s your advice? Become less available? Make plans he would think was fun? Holy high school game playing, Batman! How about you take the hint, go get your nails done, buy a new pair of heels and move on with your life. Not every guy in the world is going to be into you. This one is most likely not. And who cares? Sometimes you have to wade through the quite a few disinterested men until you find the one who adores you. Or better yet, let him find you.

Scrap it: Allow your calls to slack off at exactly the same rate, until nobody is calling anybody. Voila: uncomfortable conversation averted.

OR… you could do the adult thing and get on with your life. Of course, if he asks you what went wrong, I think you should tell him. He has a right to know that his hints were well received and maturely responded to. Voila: Uncomfortable conversation bravely confronted. Class level +3.

Wrong Tactic: Calling obsessively and hanging up on him. He may be immature, but he is capable of seeing right through that blocked number on his caller I.D.

I think it goes without saying that stalking is ALWAYS a wrong tactic. And illegal.

Split-up Sign #2: Your sheets are distressingly un-mussed.

Ah, the no more sex sign!

The Symptoms: There's been a negative change in your sex pattern - in other words, you're just not doing it as much.

So hurry up and panic and make a big deal about it! Because sex patterns never change!! (Please note my intense sarcasm and underlying frustration that this made #2 on the list.)

What's Behind It: There could be several reasons for the doin'-it decline: a health problem, maybe work woes. Or there could be a real issue at hand: he's tired of the same-old same-old, and his libido has taken a snooze.

Hmm… or maybe he’s fucking tired or the two of you are going through NORMAL changes in sex drive. This should only be a concern if it is ongoing. Like longer than a month.

Salvage it: Give it a few weeks, to be sure there isn't some temporary trouble that has nothing to do with you. Then invite him over, and greet him at the door in a French maid outfit. With a feather duster.

Jesus, Amy. No. No. No. I agree on giving it two weeks, but a French maid outfit? A feather duster? How about you wait for HIM to be comfortable with sex and then you introduce new play? That sounds more reasonable. And less desperate. And less selfish. And a little more compassionate.

Scrap it: If weeks become months and the spark seems to have truly faded, the "we'd-be-better-friends-than-lovers" speech might actually work here -- and might even, for once, be true.

If it lasts more than a month, he is no longer interested in you. And don’t do the friends thing; that never ends well. Just walk away gracefully and eat a tub of ice cream like a normal woman. Maybe watch that breakup movie with Jennifer Aniston and Vince Vaughn. Then get on with your life as usual.

Wrong Tactic: Asking about it directly. Men are fragile creatures, and a direct assault will surely scare the groundhog right back into his den. And a girl with her hands on her hips, nagging "Why won't you have sex with me?" ... Not alluring.

Men are fragile creatures? No the fuck they aren’t. Asking for a reason the sex is on a downslope is not only a logical course of action, it is the adult thing to do. Of course, you never would say, “Why won’t you have sex with me?” But a “I miss having sex with you, is everything okay?” speech is perfectly reasonable. And is 100% the RIGHT tactic.

Here’s a secret, girls… men appreciate honesty.

Split-up Sign #3: When it comes to making plans... he won't.

Ugh! She’s right about this one. Definitely a sign.

The Symptoms: God forbid you buy tickets to anything -- you eat your heart out while he decides if he'll be able to make it, even with a healthy three-week lead time.

Run. Fucking run. Just trust me on this one.

What's Behind It: Making plans equals planning for the future. Planning for the future equals commitment. Commitment equals FEAR! Get it? Your guy might resist the nonrefundable package deal to New Orleans. Or he might get spooked each Saturday. It sorta depends on his personality.

I hate to say that she is right, but she is dead on. If he can’t even commit to future plans with you such as dinner or ANYTHING, do not be stupid enough to think he will commit to you as a person.

Let me give you an example. Before my ex and I broke up, I became his ‘plan-B-girl’ (no, not in the oops-I-might-be-pregnant-let’s-take-a-pill way). As long as he didn’t have plans to go to the bar, or hang out with friends, or head to the neighborhood pool for the evening, then he would hang out with me. I was his plan B. He didn’t want to make any plans with me because he needed to keep his options open in case something better came along. And that something better was a pretty lengthy list.

Please, do not be this girl. If a man even remotely likes you or is interested in something more than just sex with you, he will make time for you in advance and he will show you that you are his priority. Maybe not every day (that would be crazy and obsessive) but often. Guys like being around girls that they are in to. It’s that simple.

Salvage it: This is bad behavior, and there's only one way to tame it: Disappear. Give him one chance to get on board, and then make alternate plans -- ones he can't join in on. Yes, it stinks -- you have no boyfriend for, like, three weeks. But if he's worth keeping, he'll get the hint. Pronto.

Salvage it? No fucking way. This is where you have enough respect and love for yourself to want something better for yourself. She’s right about disappearing. But you need to disappear for good.

Look, I know this one is hard. It took me a while to get the confidence and self-love to realize that I am worth being a plan A. Even when it meant walking away with a bit of a broken heart. Trust me. Hearts are easier to mend than the loss of dignity.

Scrap it: Then again, if he's not worth keeping -- this tactic will prove it, and you can move on without guilt. Hey, you gave him a chance to come along.

Blah blah blah. See above comment.

Wrong Tactic: Trying to make rules and insisting that he come to Saturday game-night or suffer an hour-long tirade. Sheesh. Are you his girlfriend, or his mom?

Agreed. This is a terrible tactic. And what if it is HIS Saturday game-night?  Or HIS Sunday football? Being a plan A is important, but so is giving him some space.

Split-up Sign #4: He gives you the "I Need Space" speech

The Symptoms: As symptoms go, this is a pretty obvious one -- he actually communicates a desire to not be around you as much.

This is a difficult one for sure, but usually YOU are the cause of this speech, not him.

What's Behind It: This is often a panic-inducing situation, but it doesn't have to be. Yes, sometimes "space" is a euphemism for "buh-bye." But sometimes, it really does mean that he'd like to re-adjust the relationship so that a little absence can make his heart grow fonder.

There is no hidden meaning here. You are crowding him. Give him his god damn space.

Salvage it: Give him space. As requested. Allowing him as much space as you can stand, while still making your presence known (with sporadic check-in e-mails, a card in the mail, a song dedicated on the radio), can make you absolutely adorable to him.

Sometimes guys just need their own alone time. You should too. And you should be respecting this for both of you.

Here is why this is tricky, though. If a guy needs a week off from you, something went south somewhere. And there is no coming back from the ‘week of space’ speech. This is a whole blog entry in itself, but believe me when I say it is time for you to pack up and move on.

Scrap it: If you suspect he's more of an astronaut than you can stand, trump his space request by saying you should see other people. And mean it.

No. If his alone time is unreasonable (a week or more), you should leave. Who cares about ‘other people’. This is about you accepting that he is not that into you and loving yourself enough to make the right decision.

Wrong Tactic: Saying "No, you can't have space." That is guaranteed to backfire: instead of taking a little space now, he'll take all the space he needs -- by leaving the relationship.

Agreed.

Split-up Sign #5: As Sting nearly sang it, "Every little thing you do is un-magic"

Oh, god. This is the one I hate most.

The Symptoms: The very things about you that he used to find cute, he now finds irritating -- and seems to be picking petty fights over everything you do.

Yep. I know this one well. My high pitch sneezes are adorable. My little kid enthusiasm about everything is refreshing. My life with pajama’s and champagne is delightful. By 74 quirks make me unique.

And then a few months go by…

Now my sneezes hurt his ears, my enthusiasm about everything is frustratingly childish, my pj’s and champagne nights are ridiculous, my 74 quirks are annoying.

What's Behind It: This is more common than you'd think - and while it can mean he's tired of you, it more likely is a sign that likes you more than he wants to admit. And that you're spending too much time together, stirring your spoon in your coffee cup around ... and around ... and around....

What the fuck? A sign that he likes you more than he wants to admit? NO! It’s a sign that he is sick of you. It’s literally that simple. You annoy him.

Salvage it: Don't even play into his irritation. Give him a little breathing room - either let his comments roll off your back, or gracefully bow out every time he throws a fit over nothing. A little free time should let him know he's stepping out of bounds.

Leave. If he’s still with you even though you annoy him, it’s only out of fear of loneliness, not because he likes you. Leave and be available for the guy who will forever think everything you do is adorable. He’s out there. I promise.

Scrap it: If he's really indulging in some very bad manners, you're excused from politeness yourself. Take yourself out of an uncomfortable situation altogether-and don't return his calls.

Agreed.

Wrong Tactic: Crying, apologizing, and changing when you clearly didn't actually do anything wrong. This just sets up a pattern that will only get worse as time goes on.

Do people do this? Jesus god! Yeah, I agree. Change nothing, apologize for nothing, don’t stick around and feel worse about yourself. Wow, you women never cease to amaze me.

Split-up Sign #6: You just have that sick feeling in your gut.

Here we go…

The Symptoms: An intangible sense that things just aren't going right.

We all get this. All of us.

What's Behind It: Well, it could be paranoia. Or you could be right. Unfortunately, computer technology has not developed enough for us to diagnose this one for you.

I could not agree with Amy more.

Salvage it: Try a straightforward conversation. Remember that guys don't generally like those, so do it in a way that really sounds like friends talking, and make it clear that while you'd like to stay with him, you don't want to keep him in a situation that truly doesn't fit.

Surprisingly, this is absolutely what you should do.

Scrap it: If you've been having the same gut feeling about him, maybe you're both right. But in the absence of identifiable problems, you owe him the same conversation.

Uh huh.

Wrong Tactic: Committing a pre-emptive dump. If it turns out that you really were just being paranoid, and in fact he's preoccupied by a problem at work, you could end up being the worst kind of bad guy. As a result, he'll be so hurt he'll dump the next girl... and a new cycle of dumpages will be unleashed upon the world. You don't want to be responsible for romantic Armageddon. So as uncomfortable as it might be, you've got to do the right thing.

I agree. A pre-emptive dump could lead to the zombie apocalypse and we could all die. Talk to him first.

Lessons I Learned From Strippers

Not too long ago, I had a group of girlfriends that were… how should I put this… strippers. Some danced in clubs, some danced for private companies, some worked in Vegas.  And some of them lived with me. Whenever I reveal this little tidbit of information to females I meet, most of them do the ‘Eww. Strippers? Really? That’s so gross.’ thing. And most of them are hypocritical assholes.

Because of the judgment and long explanations and backstories I always have to give, the people I hang out with here in Texas know little about my stripper past. I know what you’re thinking. No, I never was a dancer. And honestly, it is only because I did not have the courage to be naked in public. That and I dislike people too much to dance for them. Unless they’ve already seen me naked. Then I suppose the dancing is on. You can thank strippers for any talent I might have in that department.

Here’s what I don’t understand, though. Sometimes I might bring up a subject that involves a ‘dancer’. All of a sudden half the room is up in arms about how women could behave like that. How could she exploit herself in that way? Wake up, ladies. I think it’s time to take a serious look at yourselves before you start getting all judge-y. First thing you need to do is admit that you probably fall into one of these four (five) categories.

1.      You get lonely, go to the bar for ‘a few drinks’, find a halfway decent looking man, go home with him, have crazy drunk sex with him, wake up the next morning, feel shitty about yourself, go home and repeat the same cycle a few nights later. Maybe you wait a week or so.

2.      You get lonely, go to the bar for ‘a few drinks’, flirt with all the attractive men, lavish in their attention, go home alone with a few new phone numbers, and repeat the same cycle a few nights later. Maybe you wait a week or so.

3.      You play it classy, wait for that boyfriend guy to come along, you lavish in his attention, have sex with him occasionally, find some sort of security in playing the relationship game until one of you gets bored, move on to the next one and repeat the cycle.

4.      You have no fucking clue what you are doing or what men are thinking and you just wing it and hope you don’t get murdered in the process.

5.      You’re married. In which case your problems are far more overwhelming than the first four groups and strippers are really the least of your concerns and this blog post has nothing to do with you other than maybe the last half and the fact that, yes, your husband probably goes to strip clubs and yes, you are both probably very miserable. Email me.

You want to know the ONLY difference between you and a stripper? A stripper gets paid for the above troubles (besides #5 because she is smarter than that). Thousands a night even. Okay, fine. She also gets naked in front of large groups of strange men but, honestly, in the world of cable and Calvin Klein ads, is it really that big of a deal? No. It isn’t.

And please do not get me started on women’s rights. You’ll just piss me off, say something arrogant and sound like a dumb ass. Women have the right to strip if that is what they choose. It’s their body and their decision. It’s only exploitation if they are forced to do so against their will or are underage. Same goes for pornography. Do not make me have this argument with you. You will lose.

So what is the point of all this stripper talk? The point is, kiddies, that some of the greatest lessons I have learned about life, men and sex, I have learned from strippers. And today I feel the need to share these lessons with you. You are welcome.

LESSONS I LEARNED FROM STRIPPERS

1.      CONFIDENCE

Nothing is more unattractive to a man than a woman who is not comfortable in her own body. Look, we all have flaws (a little too much ass, not enough boobs, a few wrinkles creeping around the eyes) but who the fuck cares. We are all beautiful. It isn’t the subtle imperfections that define us. It’s in how we use the things that make us beautiful (the curve of the hips, the length of the legs, the arch of the back), how we carry ourselves, and how we move. A man will look past anything if your presence is seductive enough to keep his attention. Trust me. Exotic dancers must master this if they are going to make tips. Black lights always help too. And glitter.

2.      THE ART OF THE TEASE

Want to keep a man’s attention in the bedroom? You better learn how to tease him. Any girl can grab a dick and put it inside her. There is absolutely nothing special about knowing how to have sex. But if you know how to stop at just the right moment, how to barely give him what he wants just when he is about to get it, how to linger just the right amount of time, then when you do finally grab it and go for it, it will be mind-blowing. For the both of you.

Strippers, however, can never do the grab and go. They have to live in the tease moment. $20 here, $50 dollars there. Any amount just to keep that fantasy of the follow through alive. Men are easy this way. This is how dancers make thousands a night.

3.      THE FANTASY/VARIETY

“Oh, our sex life is perfect. We always do the same position every other night in the same room around the same time,” said no sexually satisfied couple ever. Men love fantasy, they love being taken out of their environment, they love doing something different. This is why most men go to strip clubs. They want to fantasize, experience something new. Listen close, girls. DECENT men will never cheat on you. DECENT men usually find no need to go to strip clubs. But DECENT men, just like the cheating prick-hole ones, also like fantasy and variety. Actually, if you were being real with yourself, you women do too. So buy sexy outfits, role play, try new places and new things. Be open to his fantasies and share your own. Jesus. It’s 2014, not 1874. Put some adventure in your sex life… throughout your ENTIRE relationship.

4.      RESULTS

If you say no to your man often enough, you will destroy his sexual confidence. Men like to be needed sexually. And let’s face it, we do need them. So why is it that women have such a hard time showing them this. Have a headache? Let him fuck it out of you. Tired? You’ll sleep even better afterward. The power of the word no in the bedroom is devastatingly strong. Sure, every now and then it’s perfectly reasonable to not be in the mood. But never make it a habit. You will lose his sexual attention.

Strippers know this better than anyone else. Most of the men in a gentlemen’s club (not all but about 70%) are there because they are not getting their sexual needs met elsewhere. We say no for long enough, Candy is getting half his paycheck. Plus you'll end up with a very grumpy and sexually frustrated male. Fuck that.

5.      NEVER UNDERESTIMATE THE POWER OF HEELS

We all look amazing in heels. If you don’t own at least five pair, I question your womanhood. Email me.

6.      WE ARE IN CONTROL

Sounds all woman lib, I know. But it is true. You have the pussy so you have the power. Use it wisely. The pussy and the power.

7.      ALWAYS SET MONEY ASIDE FOR TAXES

Yeah, every stripper I know is amazing at this. I have no idea why but they are. Even the coked up alcoholic ones. I stayed in my clothes and pushed paper for years and still never figured this tax shit out. They are like sexy, big-boobed accountants. In fact, if you know a stripper, I suggest come April you search her out. Seriously.

 

In other news, I obviously lied about posting another blog last night. I’d say sorry but I was fucking busy. It involved beer and orgasms, that’s all you need to know.

 

Hasta la Pasta.

Chicago

It is no secret that I love Chicago. If Chicago were a man I would sleep with it, stalk it, write love poems to it, cook it potato soup and have babies with it. Okay, not the babies part but only because I really hate babies. 

On the days that I fantasize about striking it rich (it usually involves finding buried treasure in the backyard I don’t have or pulling off a Reservoir Dog diamond heist minus the missing ear and everyone dying part), I see myself buying a beat up Chi town apartment with brick walls and open ductwork. I would write every day, eat Italian food every night and become a regular at one of the old Irish pubs off State Street. I also imagine getting a boob job and ridiculously large TV but that is beside the point. Mostly, I picture Chicago.

I could write a list about what makes Chicago the best city in America. A very long list that would include things like amazing food, hilarious locals, Irish pubs everywhere,  a green river, 24 hour drunks, an incredible music scene, affordable dives, snow, beautiful buildings, 50/50 nice guy – asshole ratio (unlike the 20/80 of New York), and so on. But alas, I would much rather bitch about the things that piss me off so here I go:

1.      Indoor Temperatures

Just because it is -4° outside does not mean that turning the thermostat to 80° is the solution to making me comfortable. This isn’t just a few bars or restaurants either. This is everywhere! You know what’s worse than freezing my ass off? Sweating! In fact, sweating in a wool skirt, nylon tights, knee high snow boots and a thick fuzzy sweater makes me want to murder you. Sure I would look cute doing it, but I am seriously one more degree away from smashing someone’s face in. 70° is perfect, assholes!

2.      Tourists

Either walk fast or get the fuck out of my way! There is nothing on Hubbard street worth stopping for. Really? A picture of Starbucks? Where the fuck do you live that this is the first Starbucks you have ever seen? Montana? Oh, look, a cleverly named bar. This must be the only city in the world that has such things. Hurry and take a picture in the middle of the sidewalk so no one can get around you. Don’t worry, the rest of us love being late. And guess what? No one will fucking arrest you for crossing at a red light. Go! There are no cars! The cops don’t give a shit. I promise.

3.      Goulashes

Rubber boots? When there is no snow on the sidewalks and it isn’t even wet outside? I feel like at this point you are purposefully trying to piss me off. Stop. Please. For the love of fashion. You look ridiculous.

4.      Falling Ice    

I guess getting hit once is acceptable. But it is very hard to look graceful and continue walking like a normal person when TWO pieces of rather large shards of ice come crashing down on you. And you don’t even know who to be mad at. You just keep walking and rubbing your head and cussing at nobody.  Which only makes you look like a madwoman. A fact you don’t realize until your already a block down the street and people are moving to avoid you.

And I suppose this is normal, hence all the signs that I didn’t believe. Do people ever die this way? I feel like Chicago was trying to murder me.

5.      Strange Way of Honking

If you get honked at in LA, New York, Detroit, Dallas or any city besides Chicago, you will know it. People in every other city in America know that laying on the horn means get the hell out of my way. In horn language, light tapping usually means someone is waiting outside for you and politely wishes that you would hurry up. So when you light tap your horn at me, you just confuse me. Do I know you? Should I wave? Is there a kitten crossing the road? Oh! You want me to move. I had no idea with your pussy-like honking. Do me a favor, Chicago-ians… commit to the horn. Lay on that mother fucker like you mean it.

6.      Pizza and Hot Dogs

I know all about the pizza and hot dogs, everyone-who-lives-in-Chicago, so please stop telling me about them. Okay okay, you guys have the best pizza in the world. Sure, you make a mean hot dog. But notice how you don’t see Californians running around telling all the out-of-staters, “You should really see our beaches. They are magnificent.” You know why? Because they assume you already know because everyone on the planet knows. I love your food, Chicago, the whole world does. So stop telling me about it every two seconds because all that does is make me want to rip off your lips. And how will you enjoy your pizza dogs after I do that? You won’t.

 

7.      The Uncreative Homeless

Look, I love the homeless. They live in boxes and wear fashionable fingerless gloves and drink 24/7. They are my kind of people. I do, however, expect a little creativity when begging for my money. A clever little sign, a pregnant side kick, a magic trick, a dancing monkey. But all this “Got any change?” business isn’t cutting it for me. Step it up, homeless Chicago people! And who the fuck carries change anymore? Does change still exist? Ask for liquor or burritos, it’s what most normal Americans have on them at any given time. Or learn to take bank cards. Your requests are outdated and annoying.

 

 

In other news, Wil has made promises of a sex-filled week when I return. I think this is exactly why I keep him around. That and he feeds me wine and lets me pass out in his bed occasionally. And he bought me a book, which is pretty much the most perfect gift ever.

Since I made this trip sans vibrators, he better be hydrating and working out. Because come Saturday, I’m going to be ready to go… and mildly grumpy. I will expect a leather whip and a sex swing. Okay, I actually expect neither. Especially the whip. What a strange thing to sexually enjoy. Seems bloody and hostile. Anyways, I do expect marathon sessions. Just saying.  

Oh, and I have to apologize for how long it took to update my blog. I have another post coming later tonight to make up for my lack of updates. It involves a day at church and a rather large Valentines dinner but my battery is about to die so you will have to wait. I will be out of commission and off the grid for a few hours but stay tuned. I appreciate all your emails and death threats, though. Much love back at you.