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<?xml-stylesheet type="text/xsl" media="screen" href="/~d/styles/atom10full.xsl"?><?xml-stylesheet type="text/css" media="screen" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~d/styles/itemcontent.css"?><feed xmlns="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" xmlns:openSearch="http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearch/1.1/" xmlns:georss="http://www.georss.org/georss" xmlns:gd="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005" xmlns:thr="http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0" xmlns:feedburner="http://rssnamespace.org/feedburner/ext/1.0" gd:etag="W/&quot;D0AHRHsyeCp7ImA9WhRUFko.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228</id><updated>2012-01-27T08:48:55.590-06:00</updated><title>ERIN AUSTIN'S RANDOM THOUGHTS AND HAPPENINGS</title><subtitle type="html" /><link rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/" /><link rel="next" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default?start-index=26&amp;max-results=25&amp;redirect=false&amp;v=2" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><generator version="7.00" uri="http://www.blogger.com">Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>251</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>25</openSearch:itemsPerPage><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://feeds.feedburner.com/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings" /><feedburner:info uri="erinaustinsrandomthoughtsandhappenings" /><atom10:link xmlns:atom10="http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom" rel="hub" href="http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/" /><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DUAESXc4cCp7ImA9WhRUFUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-462910834730380897</id><published>2012-01-25T16:41:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-26T08:21:48.938-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-26T08:21:48.938-06:00</app:edited><title>THINGS THAT MAKE ME WISH I WASN'T A WOMAN</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;This isn't about how I hate being a woman because I have to pee sitting down.  Or because I'm not strong to bench press a KIA.  This is about things that other women do that make me shake my head and wish I wasn't a part of the female gender.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;1. Girls that send pictures or videos of themselves naked via text&lt;/b&gt;!  First of all, what the hell is wrong with you?  It's one thing if you're sending it to a guy that you're in a relationship with, but that's even dangerous.  The girls that send pics of their business to dudes they're trying to land is just plain stupid.  Just like us, when we get a picture of them and show it to all our friends, they do the same thing and worse.  (The term meat curtains comes to mind)  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7g81pKf-Zag/TyDIR3zBIZI/AAAAAAAAAlg/GFBFa16zOMQ/s1600/7cc535b2-9655-4b61-99a9-b526945b40fa.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7g81pKf-Zag/TyDIR3zBIZI/AAAAAAAAAlg/GFBFa16zOMQ/s320/7cc535b2-9655-4b61-99a9-b526945b40fa.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701777337612312978" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;There's a guy I'm friends with and some girl that he met that doesn't even live in the same city sends him video of her playing with herself. Really? Is that necessary? Did her parents not give her enough attention as a child that now she sends guys videos of her &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;va&lt;/span&gt;-jay jay?&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;b&gt;2. Girls that go for married men.&lt;/b&gt;  This one makes me want to smack a ho! This one also qualifies for girls that go after a guy that's dating someone.  I know that there are some slim pickings out there when it comes to finding a decent man, but trust me when I say, if he's barking up your tree and he's with someone else...he's really not that great of a guy to begin with.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Why are we so weak as women that instead  of finding a guy to call our own, we try to prove to ourselves and others that we can steal one from someone else?  Does it make you feel good that you said he's with you? Like the saying goes and like Justin &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Timberlake&lt;/span&gt; sings "What goes around comes around."&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;iframe src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/TOrnUquxtwA" allowfullscreen="" width="560" frameborder="0" height="315"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;b&gt;3. Girls that dress like absolute prostitutes.&lt;/b&gt; Granted, I'll admit to wanting to wear some more scantily clad outfits. (Hence, why I bought the Brazilian Butt Lift workout video.  Getting this bum bum high and tight.)  However, there's a difference between looking sexy and dressing like Courtney &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Stodden&lt;/span&gt;, the 17 year old teen bride who will be in porn when she turns 18.  I don't care what her mother says.  &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 229px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-6eQ9_f8WyT8/TyDGTzNCrSI/AAAAAAAAAlU/eZbT9Ue3wrg/s320/courtney-stodden-coffee-run-3.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5701775171715771682" border="0" /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Call me a semi-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-corrected" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;feminist&lt;/span&gt;, jealous, or judgmental, but I guess to me I don't feel like we need to put our naughty bits on display to get noticed. Although, every time I go out here in Houston, or anywhere else I feel like the only girls that get noticed are the ones where I can see their uterus along with a side of tits.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;That's just  few of the examples I can come up with...give me a day or two and I could come up with more.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-462910834730380897?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/da1m1BWkjvBOFIOWBc0xjkrg93U/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/da1m1BWkjvBOFIOWBc0xjkrg93U/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/fFelWZnAHkQ" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/462910834730380897/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=462910834730380897" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/462910834730380897?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/462910834730380897?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/fFelWZnAHkQ/things-that-make-me-wish-i-wasnt-woman.html" title="THINGS THAT MAKE ME WISH I WASN'T A WOMAN" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-7g81pKf-Zag/TyDIR3zBIZI/AAAAAAAAAlg/GFBFa16zOMQ/s72-c/7cc535b2-9655-4b61-99a9-b526945b40fa.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2012/01/things-that-make-me-wish-i-wasnt-woman.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CkQEQHg6eSp7ImA9WhRVGU4.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-6043489202952825176</id><published>2012-01-18T16:40:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-18T17:45:01.611-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-18T17:45:01.611-06:00</app:edited><title>IS IT WEIRD OR NORMAL TO GOOGLE UP YOUR EX?</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D9vmOczKAwc/TxdAexKbuBI/AAAAAAAAAk8/FcqkKLlWvdg/s1600/google_ex.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 213px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699094750798002194" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D9vmOczKAwc/TxdAexKbuBI/AAAAAAAAAk8/FcqkKLlWvdg/s320/google_ex.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Imagine this scenario: It's a random Tuesday night and you're sitting on your couch semi-watching television. You have your laptop out and your mind starts to wonder. You pull up the googles (I call it the googles vs. google just to be funny) and start typing in your exes name into the search bar.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How many times have you done that? Come on now!! Admit it! You've done it a few times. I know I have. Well...I've done it more than a few times, but it's something I've tried to stop doing. (we'll get to that later)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think more women look up their exes vs. men. Maybe I'm wrong about that, but I feel like most guys don't give a crap about you once you're out of the picture.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think it's a pretty normal thing to be curious about what they're up to and where they are. However, at what point do you stop doing it? Or do you ever stop?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think as women we're pretty curious beings and are excellent at snooping and investigating. Depending on how the relationship ended, a lot of women want to know what the guy has moved onto. We wonder if he's happier. Is she prettier? Does he like her more than he liked you? Granted, it's probably not a healthy thing to do, but we do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yWeZLogUOvc/TxdAnfguMuI/AAAAAAAAAlI/8BCP0ubwSPQ/s1600/Facebook%2BStalk.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 320px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 147px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5699094900678472418" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-yWeZLogUOvc/TxdAnfguMuI/AAAAAAAAAlI/8BCP0ubwSPQ/s320/Facebook%2BStalk.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I admitted earlier, I've done the internet snooping. But in the last couple of years I've cut it down, if not stopped it all together.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For example, &lt;strong&gt;my ex boyfriend Mr. Dallas I've stopped looking up because whatever I find will probably not make me feel very good.&lt;/strong&gt; I mean, when he broke up with me he used the line, "Erin I just feel like the next step for you is marriage and I'm not ready." I asked, "Are you just not ready to get married to me...or to anybody? He said, "To you or to anybody...I'm just not ready."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, since then, he's pretty much always had some sort of girlfriend in the picture. I've pretty much figured that he's engaged by now. At least that's what I tell myself, and try to convince myself of. And if that's the case, I'd rather not see that it's actually true. Why? Because &lt;strong&gt;if he thought that the next step for me is marriage, and he got married before I did...I'd get pretty depressed.&lt;/strong&gt; Not sure if that makes sense, but knowing that someone else WAS good enough to marry and I wasn't, is not something I need to see in &lt;strong&gt;BIG, BOLD&lt;/strong&gt; print. (I have enough issues, thank you very much!)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Now, my ex-husband I've totally stopped looking up&lt;/strong&gt;. There's nothing I need to know anymore. I mean, he's re-married, he's got a kid, and one of the dogs we had together has died. That's it. There's nothing else that can really happen as far as life changes go that would be relevant or shocking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you look up your exes still? What about your exes new girlfriend or boyfriend? What if you're currently in a relationship. Do you ever Google their exes? Is that normal? When does it get to be too much and when do you have to let it go? Do you ever have to let it go? Maybe it's all perfectly normal and OK. What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Have you ever googled an ex found out something that made you upset of was made you regret looking them up?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-6043489202952825176?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nkfoo2DzRU8ft3J-iOby6NYGDpM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/nkfoo2DzRU8ft3J-iOby6NYGDpM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/Ghktg_MixQM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/6043489202952825176/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=6043489202952825176" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/6043489202952825176?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/6043489202952825176?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/Ghktg_MixQM/is-it-weird-to-look-up-your-ex.html" title="IS IT WEIRD OR NORMAL TO GOOGLE UP YOUR EX?" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-D9vmOczKAwc/TxdAexKbuBI/AAAAAAAAAk8/FcqkKLlWvdg/s72-c/google_ex.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2012/01/is-it-weird-to-look-up-your-ex.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkcERX88cSp7ImA9WhRVE00.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-2533732843735989194</id><published>2011-12-31T08:00:00.013-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-11T12:53:24.179-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-11T12:53:24.179-06:00</app:edited><title>THE WORDS THAT LEAVE SCARS</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PMmqZ9o-MoM/Tw3YKCiyT4I/AAAAAAAAAkY/2NRMhgtoly8/s1600/tumblr_l49pfgoVHR1qbw71ro1_500.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 159px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PMmqZ9o-MoM/Tw3YKCiyT4I/AAAAAAAAAkY/2NRMhgtoly8/s320/tumblr_l49pfgoVHR1qbw71ro1_500.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696446770686611330" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's happened to all of us. Someone says something that hurts and sometimes it sticks with you for life.  It happens to me just about every time I write a blog.  Someone who probably doesn't know me personally, decides to make a comment that is meant to be hurtful.  In those instances, the words hurt for a bit, but rarely do they stick with me for longer than a day or so.  However, there are many times where I can think of things that someone close to me has said something that still sticks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can think of things that my parents said to me that have stuck with me over the years.  I don't think the moments weren't meant to be so hurtful, but I remember them.  There were times when my dad would say things when us kids did something to make him mad, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"Just 4 more years and you're out of here." &lt;/span&gt; Or when my brother and I misbehaved my parents would say, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"I hope when you guys have kids they are 10 times worse than you are." &lt;/span&gt;(Maybe that's a reason I'm not in a hurry to have kids.)  At least I can say my parent NEVER said things like "you're worthless" or "I wish you were never born." &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kids can be mean with things they say too.  With all the national attention brought to cyber-bullying and kids taking their own lives because of it, it's obvious that words hurt.  Fortunately, that was never a huge problem for me.  I did get teased for being flat chested as a pre-teen, but over the years I've learned that having a smaller chest means I won't be saggy like bigger boobed girls.  Now, my younger brother on the other hand was constantly bullied.  He was taller than most kids his age and had big ears.  I can't tell you how many times I would have to run off the ornery neighbor boys down the street.  My brother was quieter than me and wasn't brave enough to defend himself.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;That bullying affected him for years, if not for the rest of his life.&lt;/span&gt;  He has become more confident over the years, but that bullying was a setback.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SD8OYJRrupc/Tw3YVcJ-jKI/AAAAAAAAAkk/yNyJZJ4j4Sc/s1600/sticks-and-stones-may-break-my-bones-but-words-will-never-hurt-me-false-psychological-damage-is-irreparable.jpg.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-SD8OYJRrupc/Tw3YVcJ-jKI/AAAAAAAAAkk/yNyJZJ4j4Sc/s320/sticks-and-stones-may-break-my-bones-but-words-will-never-hurt-me-false-psychological-damage-is-irreparable.jpg.png" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696446966540438690" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;As an adult words still stick.  Even though we're older and wiser, we're still not made of Teflon.&lt;/span&gt; Sometimes the people that say the most hurtful things are the people we love the most.   I know &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;I've held on to several hurtful things that my ex-husband said to me.  Some of which I think is part of the reason it's hard for me to be in a relationship.&lt;/span&gt;  Looking back on that relationship, with the lack of emotional nurturing that I needed I'm surprised surprised it lasted as long as it did. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My ex pretty much refused to have sex with me. (that still affects me) So I started questioning what was wrong with me.  Then I started questioning if it was me at all.  Towards the end of our marriage he befriended one of the guys at work that was openly gay.  They'd hang out and one night I came home from work and he was over for dinner. That's cool. However, the part that I thought was weird was when I walked in my kitchen and there they are making dinner together like a cute little couple.  And I pretty much was invisible.  We ate dinner and then watched some TV (Desparate Housewives).  When our co-worker left and I said, "I'm sure ____ will be more than happy to walk you out."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my ex came back downstairs  he asked me what that was about.  Knowing full and well what he was talking about, I said I had no idea what he was referring to.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;Then he says&lt;/span&gt; something that I hear like it was yesterday.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"Erin just because I don't like fucking you, doesn't mean I like fucking guys!"&lt;/span&gt;  That one stung and still does.  I wish there was a way for me to erase that from my memory.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uneN4ei4yi0/Tw3W9QG4yII/AAAAAAAAAkM/xH0QQaYTOUc/s1600/words_can_hurt_or_heal_small.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 274px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uneN4ei4yi0/Tw3W9QG4yII/AAAAAAAAAkM/xH0QQaYTOUc/s320/words_can_hurt_or_heal_small.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696445451477764226" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since then I can think of several times where guys I've dated said something that hurt and has stayed.  let's give you the list.  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;1. "Erin, you're just not like my mom." (when talking about why he didn't want to date me.)&lt;/span&gt;  &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;2. "I don't like staying at your place, you have dog fur."&lt;/span&gt; ( now I never let guys come over.)  Now for the most recent 3. &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;"... Then again maybe you enjoy being alone with a dog, going to a therapist every week and taking depression medication everyday.&lt;/span&gt; ...Being an asshole to someone i like so much isnt something i enjoy doing but you need a wake up call. You could do do so much better with yourself. " &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep in mind that came from "Little Critter." Remember him? He's the subject of my "Cougar" blog. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Words hurt. No matter how old you are, how old the person is that they come from, or even how much time has passed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IKADy_DYWN0/Tw3Wp0SfbUI/AAAAAAAAAkA/x7xEI7Pqrbg/s1600/respect.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 250px; height: 320px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-IKADy_DYWN0/Tw3Wp0SfbUI/AAAAAAAAAkA/x7xEI7Pqrbg/s320/respect.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5696445117592726850" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-2533732843735989194?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rvgtIBXUfhHOiTe8bYEcJI5E34s/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rvgtIBXUfhHOiTe8bYEcJI5E34s/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/6KVFDNiKYFI" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/2533732843735989194/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=2533732843735989194" title="14 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/2533732843735989194?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/2533732843735989194?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/6KVFDNiKYFI/words-that-leave-scars.html" title="THE WORDS THAT LEAVE SCARS" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-PMmqZ9o-MoM/Tw3YKCiyT4I/AAAAAAAAAkY/2NRMhgtoly8/s72-c/tumblr_l49pfgoVHR1qbw71ro1_500.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>14</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/12/words-that-leave-scars.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEADRnc7eip7ImA9WhRUE0g.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-6583883524206801311</id><published>2011-12-30T11:27:00.003-06:00</published><updated>2012-01-23T15:06:17.902-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2012-01-23T15:06:17.902-06:00</app:edited><title>NEW NOSE IN THE NEW YEAR!</title><content type="html">Now before you get all opinionated and tell me that I don't need it or that I should reconsider, let me tell you why I've decided I'm going to do this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since I was a kid I've have had a deviated septum. Most times it's inside where no one can see. However, mine is both. The septum is crooked and can be seen from the outside. It's not totally obvious to anyone when they talk to me. I generally point it out and then they see it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last year I had surgery to fix my deviated septum and it only worked partially. The part internally was fixed but the part (that I really wanted fixed) that can be seen on the outside was not fixed even though they attempted to fix it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--JZ9nJ39lz4/Tvj-Qm5b7hI/AAAAAAAAAjc/2mM7NAgERck/s1600/nose%2B2%2Bedit.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 252px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690577690455436818" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--JZ9nJ39lz4/Tvj-Qm5b7hI/AAAAAAAAAjc/2mM7NAgERck/s320/nose%2B2%2Bedit.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't help it! No matter how much time has passed, whether I'm single or in a relationship, I want to make this change. I want to make this change for me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I've decided to stop just wishing to make this change and do something about it. Last year at New Year's I made it as one of my resolutions, but didn't really take action until the end of the year. Something finally hit me and I started researching plastic surgeons. I have a friend that is a nurse anesthetist and asked him if there was anyone he recommended.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made an appointment for a consultation with the surgeon that my friend suggested. He was super friendly and asked after looking at what was functionally wrong with my nose if there was anything else I'd like done. The first thing I said was &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;I'd like to look less like a female Abraham Lincoln.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-noeBD8a_BLY/TvkrOf79SnI/AAAAAAAAAjo/LoWV8CwUqig/s1600/photo.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 239px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690627132250475122" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-noeBD8a_BLY/TvkrOf79SnI/AAAAAAAAAjo/LoWV8CwUqig/s320/photo.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mxeXGoMTze4/Tvk7h4X82RI/AAAAAAAAAj0/Zl23-TPGlio/s1600/abraham-lincoln-2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 251px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5690645057413896466" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-mxeXGoMTze4/Tvk7h4X82RI/AAAAAAAAAj0/Zl23-TPGlio/s320/abraham-lincoln-2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He told me that when I walked in his office that he never would've said I needed a nose job, but after taking some pictures and seeing what I wasn't happy with, he showed me some images of what he would change and how it would look. He has done some amazing work. In fact, &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;he was even on Oprah for some of the facial reconstruction work he's done. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So now I'm just waiting to hear if the insurance company will be nice enough to cover the functional part of my surgery. If not not the cost will just about double. The part I'd need to come up with is hard enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've decided that if insurance covers the medical part of my surgery that &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;I will sell my old wedding ring to pay for part of my portion of the surgery.&lt;/span&gt; I doubt I'll get enough to cover all of it so I've decided to do some fundraising to help with costs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next thing that I've decided to do in the next several weeks, &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;I'll go to several busy intersections in the area and hold up a sign asking for money.&lt;/span&gt; I know it'll be weird to hold a sign that says "NEED MONEY FOR MY PLASTIC SURGERY," but hey...if that's what I got to do to make this happen...then by God we're going to do it! &lt;span style="FONT-STYLE: italic"&gt;(At least I'm being honest)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know by posting this I'm opening myself up to some harsh criticism. And as much as I'm not ready to hear people be mean and rude, I'm aware that it's going to happen. Because well...opinions are like assholes and everyone has one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I know is that this is the thing that has always bothered me since I was a kid. Sure, did I hate being the flat chested girl through middle school and high school? Hell ya!! It sucked! But now that I'm older my boobs maybe small but they're still upright and perky. (like a 21 yr old) So &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;until the day comes where my boobs look something you'd see in a National Geographic Magazine, I'm gonna leave them as is!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now as for the people that are going to hate. I know that what I'm concerned about may seem menial compared to some people's bigger worries. However, everyone is capable of doing the same thing I'm doing. They can make they're own websites as well. Fund raise, beg, sell, whatever they need to do. &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;To the people that are saying I don't need to do this surgery. Well, maybe I don't, but if I told you I wanted breast implants would you have a different opinion?&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all have things that will make us happier. &lt;span style="FONT-WEIGHT: bold"&gt;If there's a way for you to make yourself happier and more confident, then do what you can to make it happen.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.efundraisingonline.com/ErinAustinNoseFund"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-6583883524206801311?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9TnS6xMjkZFQC-7vHseIE-a_t-Y/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9TnS6xMjkZFQC-7vHseIE-a_t-Y/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/2gnxNJIl4jc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/6583883524206801311/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=6583883524206801311" title="14 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/6583883524206801311?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/6583883524206801311?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/2gnxNJIl4jc/im-gonna-do-itim-gonna-fix-my-nose.html" title="NEW NOSE IN THE NEW YEAR!" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/--JZ9nJ39lz4/Tvj-Qm5b7hI/AAAAAAAAAjc/2mM7NAgERck/s72-c/nose%2B2%2Bedit.JPG" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>14</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/12/im-gonna-do-itim-gonna-fix-my-nose.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEIHR347eCp7ImA9WhRXE0w.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-3343608866456621370</id><published>2011-12-19T03:20:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-19T11:42:16.000-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-19T11:42:16.000-06:00</app:edited><title>I FEEL LIKE I'M AN ISLAND</title><content type="html">&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EwEdBHr_gso/Tu9x1cZxLeI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/DB4pHYEEMYM/s1600/island.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 256px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EwEdBHr_gso/Tu9x1cZxLeI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/DB4pHYEEMYM/s320/island.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5687890017363504610" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not sure if it's the holidays or what, but lately I've been feeling as though I'm an island.  That may sound a little weird to most, but to me it means I have this feeling of being alone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The holidays are never an easy time of year for making me feel warm and fuzzy.  Sure I decorate and put up a tree to feel more festive but typically I spend the holidays alone or working.  My family has never been big at celebrating the holidays traditionally and now that I'm an adult I want to.  So instead of flying back home and treating it like any other day, if I'm going to spend my Christmas non-traditionally I'd rather do my own thing.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A couple of years in a row I spent my Christmas and New Years in Europe alone.  They were places that I've always wanted to go and even though I didn't speak the language I decided to take my chances and see what it was like in another part of the world for Christmas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another reason I feel like an island is because recently I've had some people close to me diagnosed with cancer.  As I still try to wrap my head around what they're going through, I can't help but think what it might be like if that happened to me.  The thought that often pops in my head is how alone I'd be.  One friend is married and has her family nearby.  She is very lucky to have so many people near her that care about her and are able to give a helping hand and support her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I had my lasik surgery and deviated septum surgery last year I planned on driving myself home from both of them.  It wasn't until the doctor told me that I needed to have someone pick me up that I was able to leave. I just feel like if I were to get that devastating news I'd either be driving myself back and forth to chemo or become the charity case for people to look after.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most nights of the week I spend at home and hang out with my dog.  My phone rarely rings and most of the time if it does ring it's not from the people I want to call.  What's funny is sometimes I might have someone show interest but usually I don't care enough to even go.  Like I said I'm usually not interested.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not trying to sound like a Debbie Downer I guess I've just been doing a lot of turning inward.  I've been spending a lot of time by myself and doing my own thing that it scares me.  It scares me that I'll always be this alone and by myself.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family lives in Oregon.  My really really best friends live in other states and well let's be honest...I've lived here in Houston now for 2 and 1/2 years and I'm not any closer to finding a significant other as the day I moved here. If anything, I'm probably getting further from it because I'm getting older and my shelf life is starting to get up there according to a lot of men.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there might be folks happy to have the absolute freedom I have.  I have no one to answer to(literally) and I'm able to pickup and go whenever I want (money and God permitting).  Sometimes hearing nothing but the voice inside your head gets a little old and it would be nice to have someone to rely on and care about you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-3343608866456621370?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
&lt;p&gt;&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jM5bneiPqJaJb8FmXZthvUhW3us/0/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jM5bneiPqJaJb8FmXZthvUhW3us/0/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br/&gt;
&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jM5bneiPqJaJb8FmXZthvUhW3us/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/jM5bneiPqJaJb8FmXZthvUhW3us/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/Lgu205ez38E" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/3343608866456621370/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=3343608866456621370" title="12 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/3343608866456621370?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/3343608866456621370?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/Lgu205ez38E/i-feel-like-im-island.html" title="I FEEL LIKE I'M AN ISLAND" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-EwEdBHr_gso/Tu9x1cZxLeI/AAAAAAAAAjQ/DB4pHYEEMYM/s72-c/island.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>12</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-feel-like-im-island.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A08NRXY5fyp7ImA9WhRQGUg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-9107261818467677230</id><published>2011-12-09T10:14:00.007-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-15T08:38:14.827-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-15T08:38:14.827-06:00</app:edited><title>THE NON-NEGOTIABLES SERIES: GOOD SEX</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mh_8E87lW0Q/TuoFKVAkEwI/AAAAAAAAAi4/HM2hrrq79S8/s1600/blog.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 254px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mh_8E87lW0Q/TuoFKVAkEwI/AAAAAAAAAi4/HM2hrrq79S8/s320/blog.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686363154505011970" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The non-negotiable series deals with factors in a relationship that I think are must haves for me and for most people.  This particular topic is one that I think is a must for everyone...not just a few people.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing that is non-negotiable is GOOD SEX!! I think that most people in this day and age are having sex before they are married.  If you are in that majority, then listen up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Yxo7O9NAyZE/TuoBpoQMGuI/AAAAAAAAAis/BOI6QhFbECc/s1600/fun.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 249px; height: 250px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Yxo7O9NAyZE/TuoBpoQMGuI/AAAAAAAAAis/BOI6QhFbECc/s320/fun.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686359294200257250" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When you enter to a relationship most times the purpose is to find your mate.  So think for a moment that the person you marry and spend the rest of your life with is someone you can't stand in the bedroom.  That to me sounds like absolute torture. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To some sex isn't very important. To that I say, maybe that they never had good sex and what the heck is wrong with you?  But those of us that have had good sex, can you imagine being with someone for the rest of your life that isn't good in bed?  You might as well be in prison. And for that matter I know how that feels.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For instance, my ex was never wanting to have sex with me (now I have issues with that) and not only that, but he wasn't very adventurous or passionate. So when we would get it on it was very mechanical and something that left you with a feeling of "that's it?  Did HE even have fun?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My personal opinion is that if we all married people that we were more sexually compatible with that there could/would be less cheating in America.  Think about that for a second.  There's a guy I know that was a big fan of "blow jobs." Yet, the chick he married couldn't stand them.  Now for the rest of his life he's "stuck" with the chick that will never give him one of his favorite things in the bedroom. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know there are certain things I'm a big fan of in the bedroom and don't think for a second that I'm gonna stick with some guy for the rest of life that will not do it.  I've done that once and I'm not doing it again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j-iktbe4BGM/TuoF0a8_lmI/AAAAAAAAAjE/XnkB4drWaC0/s1600/buen.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 298px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-j-iktbe4BGM/TuoF0a8_lmI/AAAAAAAAAjE/XnkB4drWaC0/s320/buen.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5686363877655156322" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;translation: When even the neighbors go out for a smoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To recap: I'm not saying go and marry someone that is only good in bed.  What I'm saying is, before you walk down that aisle or stay in that relationship for year after year, if the sex is "just OK" then you may want to rethink that.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-9107261818467677230?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZA47RsA7E-BsT8_0gc5XHTnTnjk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZA47RsA7E-BsT8_0gc5XHTnTnjk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/FGYL6h6RQo8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/9107261818467677230/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=9107261818467677230" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/9107261818467677230?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/9107261818467677230?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/FGYL6h6RQo8/non-negotiables-series-good-sex.html" title="THE NON-NEGOTIABLES SERIES: GOOD SEX" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-Mh_8E87lW0Q/TuoFKVAkEwI/AAAAAAAAAi4/HM2hrrq79S8/s72-c/blog.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/12/non-negotiables-series-good-sex.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DkAMQHw5fSp7ImA9WhRQEU8.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-3335047419312556521</id><published>2011-12-05T14:34:00.004-06:00</published><updated>2011-12-05T16:39:41.225-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-12-05T16:39:41.225-06:00</app:edited><title>HOW CAN YOU EVER TRUST ANYONE?</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--UH3olScwPU/Tt1H-X-Rp3I/AAAAAAAAAig/8reVxJHhhb4/s1600/old_trust.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 300px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--UH3olScwPU/Tt1H-X-Rp3I/AAAAAAAAAig/8reVxJHhhb4/s320/old_trust.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5682777441724114802" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't tell you how often it may happen or how long the feeling lasts, but I get a lonely feeling now and again. It's a feeling that sometimes just comes out of nowhere and other times I have something happen that triggers my sadness. Sometimes the trigger is anything from seeing another couple announce their engagement, or looking around my apartment and realizing the last time I had a guy over was over a year and half ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sitting at dinner with a few girlfriends and I had something hit me. (no not a piece of food) My friends and I were in a restaurant and it appeared that we were the only table of non-couples. As I looked across the restaurant at the table full of couples and got sad that I wasn't at a table for 2, I noticed something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that table there was an attractive man sitting with his girlfriend. As the conversation with the pair trailed off, I saw him grab his cellphone and start texting. I instantly remembered how much I hated that happening to me and I felt a little better. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I then mentioned it to the girls and we started talking about how the guys we've dated in the past would do the same or worse. One girl mentioned how she'd be laying on the couch with her man and she's see his phone going off over and over again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sat there and thought, &lt;strong&gt;"How am I ever going to be able to trust anyone?"&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was a guy I went on a few dates with and I remember telling one of my best friends that I was a little leery of ever really dating him because he was one of those guys that lived here his entire life and knew a lot of people. He had a ton of female friends. How are you to ever know which ones are just friends vs. conquests?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Needless to say I never had worry about that because it never got to that point for other reasons. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can also think of a guy I've hung out with a few times. Anytime we'd hangout I always had so much fun. He always made me feel like I was the only girl in the room. Granted, I know/knew that it'd go nowhere, but I couldn't help but wonder if he acted that way with all the girls he met. With every girl that he hung out with did he tell them the same stuff as he told me? &lt;strong&gt;Isn't sad that I can't just enjoy the moment? Instead I'm too worried about whether I'm number 5 on a list of 10.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've always wondered if part of the problem that I'm single is me. And I'm sure part of it is. &lt;strong&gt;I've got a big wall up to protect myself that's so high, I'm not sure if any guy will be able to climb it.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had an old boss of mine sit down with me at lunch when I first moved here to Houston. He hadn't seen me in a few years, but he said something that makes me think every once in a while. He said, &lt;em&gt;"Erin you're always waiting for the other shoe to drop."&lt;/em&gt; And it's true. &lt;strong&gt;I'm so afraid to trust people because I'm afraid that they'll hurt me that I just sit there and wait for the to do something that will hurt me or disappoint me.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How do you believe in anyone? How are you to trust anyone? How do you make a heart that's closed off become an open one again?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-3335047419312556521?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KtRxik4BueAlBbCmu5iZBYPg44E/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/KtRxik4BueAlBbCmu5iZBYPg44E/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/59Lk7R7MEDs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/3335047419312556521/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=3335047419312556521" title="7 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/3335047419312556521?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/3335047419312556521?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/59Lk7R7MEDs/how-can-you-ever-trust-anyone.html" title="HOW CAN YOU EVER TRUST ANYONE?" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/--UH3olScwPU/Tt1H-X-Rp3I/AAAAAAAAAig/8reVxJHhhb4/s72-c/old_trust.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>7</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/12/how-can-you-ever-trust-anyone.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A0MFQX05eSp7ImA9WhRRFkQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-7494798582793054137</id><published>2011-11-30T13:21:00.008-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-30T18:30:10.321-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-30T18:30:10.321-06:00</app:edited><title>THE "F" WORDS WOMEN HATE!</title><content type="html">In the English language there are a few words deemed as bad words. Among the female gender there are several other words that aren't usually thought of as offensive, but when we hear them we immediately are filled with anger and disgust!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p2rJ39L1hjA/TtbITIgrsHI/AAAAAAAAAhw/mFDsrenOqvE/s1600/youlook.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 239px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p2rJ39L1hjA/TtbITIgrsHI/AAAAAAAAAhw/mFDsrenOqvE/s320/youlook.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680948211002093682" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. "FINE"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Most people aren't offended by this word. However, when a woman asks the man in her life how she looks and his response is "fine," we tend to get a bit pissy. No woman ever wants to look just "fine." &lt;strong&gt;Find another adjective to use when describing how she looks.&lt;/strong&gt; How about amazing, stellar, gorgeous, beautiful, sexy...I'll even take do-able! Don't use the word "fine" unless you want to be sleeping on the couch that night. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, we aren't too pleased to hear it when we ask you how you're doing or if everything is OK. You see, women tend to use the word "fine" when in reality things are anything but "fine." So when you use it we tend to think there are things that are bothering you. You see what I'm saying here? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MHyv9gwdASg/TtbIberf05I/AAAAAAAAAh8/yOcbI9rrAy0/s1600/friendzone%2Bsigns.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 320px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-MHyv9gwdASg/TtbIberf05I/AAAAAAAAAh8/yOcbI9rrAy0/s320/friendzone%2Bsigns.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680948354391987090" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;2. "FRIEND"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No girl wants to be called "friend" when in a dating situation. Most girls would rather be introduced as "Hey everyone meet Erin." vs. "Hey Everyone! I want you to meet my "friend," Erin." #FAIL &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;When you call a girl "friend" and she's interested in you, you might as well have said, "Hey everyone! Meet the girl that if I saw her naked I'd barf, Erin!" &lt;/strong&gt;That's what a girl hears when that evil "F" word. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you've slept with her already and you introduce her as a friend, she'll take that as "this guy only thinks of me as a F$&amp;K friend. (another F-word and double negative) If you introduce her just by her name in that situation, you haven't dug yourself in a hole. #WIN&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you haven't slept with her yet and you call her "friend," then you might as well tell her she's ugly because she now thinks she's in the friend zone and that you don't find her attractive. Again, if you just intro her by name, you have wiggle room on both ends!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6g2m-vp_oHI/TtbIlWu86zI/AAAAAAAAAiI/zmUWOIydQuQ/s1600/jaba.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 291px;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-6g2m-vp_oHI/TtbIlWu86zI/AAAAAAAAAiI/zmUWOIydQuQ/s320/jaba.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680948524057684786" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;3. "FAT"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For obvious reasons this is a bad word! I shouldn't really explain why this makes women furious. There's really no way of making this a positive. Unless you spell fat with a "PH" that has a better feel to it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For guys there really isn't a easy way to deal with this subject. Almost like you're damned if you do, you're damned if you don't. If you're girl ever asks you if she looks fat and you say yes...you're screwed. If you tell her out of nowhere that she's fat...then you ruin her self esteem...and are screwed! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The best way to avoid this issue is to compliment her before she goes and fishes for it. If you think she looks good in an outfit, tell her. So when the day comes that she asks you how she looks and maybe it's not the most flattering outfit, you can then say, "Babe I think that other outfit looks better! You look so sexy in it!" That way you're telling her that the outfit she has isn't the best fit but you still think she's attractive. That way you don't have your girl getting all self conscious on you. It's all about laying down the positive ground work ahead of time. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, if you actually do think you're girl is fat or gained a few lbs., then make sure that you make it a team effort in a positive way. Suggest healthier eating together, and working out together. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hopefully this helps...and ladies if there are any "F" words that you can't stand let me know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VG1eOuKy3pA/TtbI3qROIiI/AAAAAAAAAiU/RWYikAAcUoI/s1600/selfesteem.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 291px;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-VG1eOuKy3pA/TtbI3qROIiI/AAAAAAAAAiU/RWYikAAcUoI/s320/selfesteem.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5680948838539338274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-7494798582793054137?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OwCXqRzYx3h86gYavERAVTMKvDU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/OwCXqRzYx3h86gYavERAVTMKvDU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/-P9Eeu_33k8" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/7494798582793054137/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=7494798582793054137" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/7494798582793054137?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/7494798582793054137?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/-P9Eeu_33k8/f-words-women-hate.html" title="THE &quot;F&quot; WORDS WOMEN HATE!" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-p2rJ39L1hjA/TtbITIgrsHI/AAAAAAAAAhw/mFDsrenOqvE/s72-c/youlook.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/11/f-words-women-hate.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ak4ESHo_fCp7ImA9WhRSFEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-3165861275455327277</id><published>2011-11-16T20:25:00.002-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-16T21:01:49.444-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-16T21:01:49.444-06:00</app:edited><title>DUMP DAY 2011...BREAKING UP BEFORE THE HOLIDAYS</title><content type="html">There's never a good time to break off a relationship. One time that is definitely not good is during the holidays.  So if you've been wavering on dumping somebody Thursday November 17th, 2011is the day to do the deed so you don't look like a total jerk.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No matter if it's the guy dumping the girl or vice versa, a lot of relationships go down the toilet around the holidays.  Sometimes its been festering for awhile, but then when the thought of spending the holidays with them, their family, or buying them gifts and that's when you decide to pull the trigger. To avoid being talked about for years to come, break up now before you become the person that has tarnished the 2011 holidays for them forever.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When thinking about this topic I for one second thought "Wow! That's never happened to me." Then I remembered that's how it went down when I got separated. You see in this instance I was the jerk that ruined Christmas...not only for him, but for myself.  I had the "I love you but I'm not in love you" speech a week or so before Christmas.  And if memory serves me right I moved out the day after Christmas into my lil 1 bedroom apt.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Despite the fact that I knew we were going down the tubes I still went out and bought him a Christmas present. He on the other hand, was probably hoping that he dodged a bullet. However, when he found out I got him something he hurry up and ran to the store Christmas Eve and bought me...SWEATPANTS!! Yep, at least they were Addidas?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I'm sure the ex doesn't really care when we separated, but I think girls hold things a little longer and take it more personally.  So,  if you've been thinking about dumping the birch and making a switch...you better do it soon. Or you're forever going to be known as the person that shat on the holidays.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Whatever the reason is,  may it be that you just can't the sight of them or you're just tired of spending you're hard earned money on their butt...Dump them on the official day if 2011.   Dump them now before you let it go on longer and become "that guy" or "that girl."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-3165861275455327277?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Qg2n7qqZSKvz6wiE4E-NRWslLCQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Qg2n7qqZSKvz6wiE4E-NRWslLCQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/wD55fL0T4HY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/3165861275455327277/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=3165861275455327277" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/3165861275455327277?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/3165861275455327277?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/wD55fL0T4HY/dump-day-2011breaking-up-before.html" title="DUMP DAY 2011...BREAKING UP BEFORE THE HOLIDAYS" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/11/dump-day-2011breaking-up-before.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DE8DSHk7eip7ImA9WhRTGUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-478547561112764633</id><published>2011-11-09T17:04:00.000-06:00</published><updated>2011-11-10T17:14:39.702-06:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-10T17:14:39.702-06:00</app:edited><title>THE QUEST TO BE PERFECT</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y7IVOfHIi34/TrxXH-QQe7I/AAAAAAAAAhk/rcyyhXQE3P8/s1600/perfect.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673505425061870514" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y7IVOfHIi34/TrxXH-QQe7I/AAAAAAAAAhk/rcyyhXQE3P8/s320/perfect.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People have called me shallow. Some have said that I'm a mean person. They've criticized me for being picky and have even called me a bitch. Even though it doesn't feel good, it's funny because what they may not know is how much I criticize myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I constantly struggle with being able to accept myself for who I am and picking apart every aspect of myself. In fact, just today while I was at the gym I got a little emotional as looked across the gym at some girl that was rather chesty and built. As I'm sweating my butt off on the step mill I remember thinking &lt;strong&gt;"Gawd, Erin! No wonder you're single! With girls walking around with boobs and a body like that there's no way a guy will ever date you."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sometimes work out 2x a day hoping that I'll love what I see in the mirror one day.&lt;/strong&gt; As it is, I look at myself in the mirror daily and pick out every flaw. When I say every flaw...I mean it. I sometimes think about if I had an endless supply of money what would I get fixed on myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I even made a little drawing to show people the parts of my body I criticize.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uhKDjj47gE8/Trwn0SzbgPI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/XbKl1zjFLxM/s1600/Avatar-erin.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 284px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673453409934213362" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-uhKDjj47gE8/Trwn0SzbgPI/AAAAAAAAAgQ/XbKl1zjFLxM/s320/Avatar-erin.JPG" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you can't tell from the fine diagram that I drew for you, let me direct you to every part that wish looked different. Let's go front to back.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. Nose -- this is a part that I've wanted to change since I was a child. It's crooked and the septum is deformed. (deformed was my doctor's word...not mine)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. Boobs -- this is a weird one for me because I'm not totally unhappy with them , but I feel that since I'm not built like Chesty McDaniels then I'm not good enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. Stomach and hips -- I just wish it was flatter and there wasn't any muffin top.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Inner thighs -- They touch and can't stand it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. Ass -- It looks like a road map and I bend over in the mirror to see what it looks like if I were in that special moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. Hamstrings -- Again, it looks like a road map and I've even gone in for a consult with a doctor to see how I might be able to get rid of my cellulite.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I see girls like Chesty McDaniels I get sad because I start tearing myself apart. &lt;strong&gt;I tell myself that no guy will ever like me unless I'm perfect. If I'm not perfect then I'll never be good enough for someone. &lt;/strong&gt;So I sit there are critique every part that I think needs to be fixed and think about the ways I could fix them. Hence why I work out 2x a day most days of the week. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FnE3Az-Eals/TrxW7ms53iI/AAAAAAAAAhY/0vbtMtnvKnE/s1600/perfectionism.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 114px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5673505212581142050" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-FnE3Az-Eals/TrxW7ms53iI/AAAAAAAAAhY/0vbtMtnvKnE/s320/perfectionism.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think a lot of women feel they need to be perfect. Whether it's induced by our inner thoughts or we feel we need to impress other people because of celebrities that appear to be perfect, women put a pressure on ourselves to be perfect and sexy. &lt;strong&gt;Why do you think so many girls send naughty shots of themselves? They're seeking approval and are wanting to be good enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;I know that to some people (or a lot) I sound crazy. I know there are people that are going to say "OH MY GOD!! If you don't like how you look, what must you think of me!?" Well...it has nothing to do with them. This is about the pressure we (I) put on ourselves. It's the horrible habit I have of comparing myself to others. The self talk that I have in my head that tells me why I may be single for the rest of my life. It's how convince myself that I may never be good enough for someone. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Deep down we all want acceptance, to feel sexy, wanted, or good enough. I know no one is perfect. I hope someone will take my imperfections and still think I'm perfect.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-478547561112764633?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/A6vISwbKTO6u1cXA6tC-lBpAsHA/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/A6vISwbKTO6u1cXA6tC-lBpAsHA/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/0i87y2xcF2o" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/478547561112764633/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=478547561112764633" title="15 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/478547561112764633?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/478547561112764633?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/0i87y2xcF2o/quest-to-be-perfect.html" title="THE QUEST TO BE PERFECT" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-y7IVOfHIi34/TrxXH-QQe7I/AAAAAAAAAhk/rcyyhXQE3P8/s72-c/perfect.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>15</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/10/quest-to-be-perfect.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0UNRH89eyp7ImA9WhRTE08.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-5186650934990933303</id><published>2011-10-28T05:16:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-11-03T08:01:35.163-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-11-03T08:01:35.163-05:00</app:edited><title>I MAY BE SINGLE BUT I'M NOT DESPERATE!</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-lGifrCUErJ0/TqiJavXaloI/AAAAAAAAAe4/lFl7FqHh7DU/s1600/single1.bmp"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j-L2cUE6eYg/TqiJU5QA7zI/AAAAAAAAAes/FAz0KrScc-w/s1600/single.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="MARGIN: 0px 10px 10px 0px; WIDTH: 125px; FLOAT: left; HEIGHT: 125px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667931123104149298" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j-L2cUE6eYg/TqiJU5QA7zI/AAAAAAAAAes/FAz0KrScc-w/s320/single.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lgf5G2pfkYs/TqiJmSHO68I/AAAAAAAAAfE/Ni69CQdGfIU/s1600/single1.bmp"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 125px; HEIGHT: 125px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667931421835979714" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-lgf5G2pfkYs/TqiJmSHO68I/AAAAAAAAAfE/Ni69CQdGfIU/s320/single1.bmp" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I talk a lot about being single and how it can lonely at times. How it would nice to have someone that's on the same page as me. Someone I can tell as to how my day went. Lately, I think my venting about being single is possibly giving the wrong impression to certain guys.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've had several guys offer up themselves to take me to dinner or what have you. One guy wrote this as a part of a comment to one of my blog entries.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;"I know on several occasions, reading your blog, that alot of men, including myself, have offered to meet with you, have lunch or dinner or attend a function with you, and have been ignored, declined, or just some lame excuse as to why you cant or wont. I believe that this occurs ALOT more than myself or any of your other readers will ever be aware of. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;So, having this said, accept offers for lunches and/or dinners... you never know until you try... the worst that can happen is you will have to spend an hour with someone for a free meal! LOL&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;If you truly want a "roster" to pick from... add me to the list, but be forewarned... anyone on the list after me will probably not to get a chance to be called out of the bullpen!"&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's my problem(s) with that comment. What person accepts every invitation from a man? Answer: A desperate person. If I were to accept these offers just for the "free meal" what kind of person would that make me? Also if I were to just take the "free meal" wouldn't that also make me look bad? As if I'm taking advantage of him?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some women may have no problem spending an evening with a guy just get a free meal. However, I'm a pretty decent cook and I make enough money to feed myself so I'm not going on a date for a free meal?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, sometimes it's not worth the free meal if the company you're with isn't interesting or is making you feel uncomfortable. I'd rather not go on any dates for a year if I knew I'd avoid 1 date with a creeper.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted, sometimes you never know unless you take a chance. However, in the world where women are being assaulted or worse when they go off and meet guys they don't know, I'm not willing to go and take the chance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Dce29hlEx3U/TqiKBNBc7eI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/CRkgJVhPb_o/s1600/single_but_not_desperate.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 205px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667931884326022626" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-Dce29hlEx3U/TqiKBNBc7eI/AAAAAAAAAfQ/CRkgJVhPb_o/s320/single_but_not_desperate.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somebody might say, "Hey you went to Austin to go meet that guy!" Yes, I did. The difference is that I actually met that guy previously and spent a good deal of a day hanging out with him and talking to him. The guys that offered up dates or what not, I've never met in my life. Never seen them in person. Never had a conversation with. Never spent anytime with...NOTHING. They are just offers from men I know nothing about and have no idea what their intentions are.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If that makes me a bad person because I refuse to go on a date with a guy that is just a commenter on my blog or a Facebook friend (who I don't know)then so be it. It's just not something I'm comfortable with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know any woman that would accept an offer of a date from a guy that randomly sent her an email and she never met him before. Even on a blind date you have at least some sort of conversation or a little background on the person before you agree to meet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And by me airing my frustration with dating or the lack there of is not intended to make guys feel sorry for me and ask me out. I'm not saying that I want "A" boyfriend. What I find interesting is that there are some guys that just because I talk about wanting a boyfriend or someone in my life they interrupt that as me willing to take whatever I can get.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm picky, maybe too picky. I'm also a handful. Two reasons I maybe single longer than I'd like. However, I'm not so hard up for a date that I'll take any offer on the table. Thanks, but I'm not wanting to waste your or my time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It'll happen when it happens.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-5186650934990933303?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/53cBesRAxSjvF4F3V3twMC5BLGM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/53cBesRAxSjvF4F3V3twMC5BLGM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/G_fc9lXpEcc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/5186650934990933303/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=5186650934990933303" title="13 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/5186650934990933303?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/5186650934990933303?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/G_fc9lXpEcc/i-may-be-single-but-im-not-desperate.html" title="I MAY BE SINGLE BUT I'M NOT DESPERATE!" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-j-L2cUE6eYg/TqiJU5QA7zI/AAAAAAAAAes/FAz0KrScc-w/s72-c/single.bmp" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>13</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/10/i-may-be-single-but-im-not-desperate.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEACSHY-eyp7ImA9WhdaFkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-7792978441671818665</id><published>2011-10-26T21:34:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-26T22:39:29.853-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-26T22:39:29.853-05:00</app:edited><title>HALLOWEEN FOR COUPLES: CUTE OR OBNOXIOUS?</title><content type="html">Halloween is this weekend. And a lot of my friends are dressing up and some are doing it as a couple.  My question is do you think that couples dressing up together is it cute or does it make you want to barf in your mouth? And when a couple starts dating how soon is too soon to bring the "couples costume" into the mix?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is a hard topic for me to talk about because well...I haven't been a "couple" for quite some time! So there's been no opportunity for someone to be the bacon to my eggs. I will say that theres a part of me that thinks it's silly. Then there's the other part that's probably just jealous.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about when you start dating someone...how soon is too soon to bring up the couple costume?  I watched the show "Happy Endings" and tonight's episode was all about couple costumes.  One girl had a guy dump her because she brought it up too soon.  I mean is the couple costume that big of a deal? Are couple costumes like a stage in the relationship? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another thought I had, are couples costumes a way for girls to mark their territory on their man? Do you guys like dressing up like that? I have a friend and every single Halloween she abd her boyfriend where matching costumes. Typically it's her idea and he just gies along with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted this topic isn't as controversial as some of the blogs I've written but I thought I'd let you give your thoughts vs. me spouting off my opinion.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-7792978441671818665?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cA1SckYIqyAVfdczq4kyfKdQxTk/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/cA1SckYIqyAVfdczq4kyfKdQxTk/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/-SLc-VV4vUs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/7792978441671818665/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=7792978441671818665" title="2 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/7792978441671818665?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/7792978441671818665?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/-SLc-VV4vUs/halloween-for-couples-cute-or-obnoxious.html" title="HALLOWEEN FOR COUPLES: CUTE OR OBNOXIOUS?" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><thr:total>2</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/10/halloween-for-couples-cute-or-obnoxious.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;C0AEQX47fSp7ImA9WhdaFUU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-8770846244120505983</id><published>2011-10-24T14:37:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-25T17:28:20.005-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-25T17:28:20.005-05:00</app:edited><title>MEN THAT CAN'T BE ALONE</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q2GgqSDMckk/Tqc27Fqj_9I/AAAAAAAAAeg/NJTm8hnSXGc/s1600/needy-man-300x216.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 216px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5667559044829937618" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q2GgqSDMckk/Tqc27Fqj_9I/AAAAAAAAAeg/NJTm8hnSXGc/s320/needy-man-300x216.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I think I've written on this topic before, but after this weekend I got thinking about the topic again and it made me think that a fresher is in order.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;In the last couple of years I've noticed men's behavior when it comes after a break up, divorce, or just single on the prowl. My conclusion is that &lt;strong&gt;many men can't be alone. I would almost say that 85-90% of men cannot be without female attention for a considerable amount of time.&lt;/strong&gt; (2 weeks doesn't count)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Over the weekend I ran into a guy that I went on a few dates with. I've seen him a few times at various events and every time he's there with a different girl. Not sure if he's going through these ladies like I go through underwear, or if he has a roster on a rotation. Point is he's never once been seen without a girl with him. Almost like he needs to prove to people or himself that he's an awesome catch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;A lot of the guys I've dated are like that. They go from one girl to the next without much downtime in between time, if any. Mr. Dallas is a good example. Granted, I haven't spoke to him a year or so, but when we were speaking I know that the longest he went without dating some girl was maybe 2 months. The ex-husband was the same way. Well to be honest, most of the guys I've dated are like that. I can only think of maybe 1 or 2 that weren't like that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Look at George Clooney!!! There's a guy that has this written all over him! He barely had ditched the Italian girl and the next thing you see is the next girl, Stacy Keibler over at his house. I mean &lt;strong&gt;that guy barely waited until the body was cold before he was on to the next one.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I have a few guy friends that are also big examples of this. The guy moved to a new city and hadn't even been there 2 months before he had chicks he was hooking up with. I said chicks...because there was more than one.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;By the way, I'm not just saying that men are the first to get a girlfriend or get remarried, but they're also, in my opinion, the first to get laid. &lt;strong&gt;Even if you just hook up with the guy and you're not dating. Guaranteed he'll sleep with another girl before you sleep with someone again...even if the next time you sleep with someone is him!!! (Trust me this has happened to me)&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Think about when a guy and girl break up. &lt;strong&gt;How many times have you seen the guy on the prowl to get laid after the break up?&lt;/strong&gt; I think of a few guys that I'm either friends with, dated, or whatever and before the body is even cold they're seen trying to hook up. Sometimes she's not even out of the picture yet.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Why is this? Do guys just need constant attention and validation? Is it that they know they don't have to be alone so they will take the company of ANY woman just so they have something around? Do they need the ego boost? Is it just for the sex? &lt;strong&gt;Are they guys settling with anything because they're lonely? (You know what they say...a hole's a hole!) Is it because they're narcissistic? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;Don't get me wrong, I know women do this too. However, with the most of the girls I know, including myself, we needed time to be sad. Some are better than others at moving on, but some of us were sad for months before we even considered a date or sleeping with anyone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;J-Lo is a prime example of a female that moves on quickly and that drives me bonkers too. Maybe because &lt;strong&gt;I'm slightly jealous that I can't pull that.&lt;/strong&gt; I mean, she goes from Marc Anthony to Bradley Cooper!!! Sheesh!! I haven't had a real boyfriend in 4+ years but my rebound was never a Bradley Cooper. Although, I have scored some hot guys...just never dated them! Ugh.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;I'll admit part of the reason this bothers me is probably because I'm a bit jealous.&lt;/strong&gt; I mean, I haven't had a date to an event in quite some time and yet I see guys with a different chick every time they're out. Yet, every time I go to an event, my date is my girlfriends. Then again, it's about the quality for me and not the quantity. Wouldn't it be nice to have a roster to pick from once in awhile? Or just be able to move on and find some hottie to have at the snap of my fingers?? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-8770846244120505983?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/loeI1Yx4ofbLWHAlcATPjMdg24g/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/loeI1Yx4ofbLWHAlcATPjMdg24g/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/FsQllxmyDiY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/8770846244120505983/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=8770846244120505983" title="14 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/8770846244120505983?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/8770846244120505983?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/FsQllxmyDiY/men-that-cant-be-alone.html" title="MEN THAT CAN'T BE ALONE" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-Q2GgqSDMckk/Tqc27Fqj_9I/AAAAAAAAAeg/NJTm8hnSXGc/s72-c/needy-man-300x216.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>14</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/10/men-that-cant-be-alone.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEAMQHc8eip7ImA9WhdaEUs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-5369624265843174387</id><published>2011-10-20T17:21:00.011-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-20T21:06:21.972-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-20T21:06:21.972-05:00</app:edited><title>YOU DESERVE BETTER!</title><content type="html">&lt;div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JychU455RCY/TqCwviF59xI/AAAAAAAAAeU/ng9D0aXupiM/s1600/better%2B4.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665722661884000018" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JychU455RCY/TqCwviF59xI/AAAAAAAAAeU/ng9D0aXupiM/s320/better%2B4.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;How many times have you heard that phrase uttered from the mouths of your friends? A few times I'm sure. Usually it's your friends telling you that someone you're interested in romantically isn't good enough for you or isn't treating you the way you should be treated. They mean well, but here's what bothers me about that phrase.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your friends, if they're true friends only want what's best for you. And as we all know, sometimes the truth can be a little hard to hear. So, when a friend gives their 2 cents, instead of making you feel better or empowered, it actually can have the opposite effect. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YlwpNpjIXow/TqCtQDUn0uI/AAAAAAAAAd8/UosWTF4fGO8/s1600/beter2.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 240px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665718822513398498" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-YlwpNpjIXow/TqCtQDUn0uI/AAAAAAAAAd8/UosWTF4fGO8/s320/beter2.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;For example, when I made my road trip to Austin and was wondering if I should go or not, everyone was throwing their opinion my way. Telling me that instead of ME driving to Austin that I needed to make the guy come to Houston. Another nugget of wisdom was, if he really wanted to he'd come here to see me and that I deserve to have to someone wanting to come visit and making the effort to come see me.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;OK...all of this may be true however, what if that never happens?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First of all, the guy in Austin situation is unique because I'm not looking to pursue a relationship. It's not that I wouldn't but, let's be honest I just don't think it would happen. First of all, he just moved to Austin. He's also making a career change, so he's looking for a new job. He's only 27, and to be perfectly honest I doubt a guy is going want to start anything with a girl that lives in another city when there are plenty of young honeys that he could set his sights on in Austin. I mean, let's be real here...He's not gonna want to date some DJ girl 2 hours away. L.B.S (Let's Be Serious)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8MSFPAw35IM/TqCs7N8hi5I/AAAAAAAAAdw/iPbKffpdx6Q/s1600/better1.png"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 211px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665718464587860882" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-8MSFPAw35IM/TqCs7N8hi5I/AAAAAAAAAdw/iPbKffpdx6Q/s320/better1.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So back to my point...WHAT IF IT NEVER HAPPENS?I know that when I got divorced I deserved to be treated better than how I was being treated. Then I found it...for awhile but, now I'm starting to doubt that it'll happen ever again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think a lot of us know that we deserve better in our life and our relationships but, we choose to stay because &lt;strong&gt;we're afraid that we may never find what's better&lt;/strong&gt;. So, we end up settling or staying in a relationship or situation less than ideal out of fear that we end up alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When my friends and co-workers were giving me the "you deserve better speech," I got really sad because I knew deep down that they were ultimately right. (In the long run) However, I also got sad because &lt;strong&gt;I wondered if I may end up alone for the rest of my life because no one will ever treat me better.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h-2PkBM4QJs/TqCuRp2KYqI/AAAAAAAAAeI/7nVzJeHTpos/s1600/you-deserve-better.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 302px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665719949546119842" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-h-2PkBM4QJs/TqCuRp2KYqI/AAAAAAAAAeI/7nVzJeHTpos/s320/you-deserve-better.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;strong&gt;What if I never find love again because the person that was "so much better" never came along? Then I'll ask myself if I should've settled with someone that was OK.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We all want to be wanted and treated like we mean the world to someone, but what if you never find someone that will treat you that way? Sure, there are things that I/you could change about how you present yourself to people. But at the end of the day, you can only control so much.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So what do you do? Be strong, pray, and believe that there is better for you and that it will eventually happen? Or do you hope for it but end up taking what you can find that's not so bad?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g512SiUm4mY/TqCsv0VhPRI/AAAAAAAAAdk/u22aw7OzVis/s1600/better.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 270px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665718268734815506" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-g512SiUm4mY/TqCsv0VhPRI/AAAAAAAAAdk/u22aw7OzVis/s320/better.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-5369624265843174387?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZSOtQE0ENynd9QrUXLYljkL4UsE/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/ZSOtQE0ENynd9QrUXLYljkL4UsE/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/AiiEx6zS9eE" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/5369624265843174387/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=5369624265843174387" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/5369624265843174387?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/5369624265843174387?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/AiiEx6zS9eE/you-deserve-better.html" title="YOU DESERVE BETTER!" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-JychU455RCY/TqCwviF59xI/AAAAAAAAAeU/ng9D0aXupiM/s72-c/better%2B4.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/10/you-deserve-better.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D04GRno6fSp7ImA9WhdaEUk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-2240941575498287706</id><published>2011-10-13T12:14:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-20T16:25:27.415-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-20T16:25:27.415-05:00</app:edited><title>IF HE'S NOT SINGLE...HE'S OFF LIMITS</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uU2oWkHPFn0/Tp8_rtXC-lI/AAAAAAAAAdM/QUhhsskEYPY/s1600/off_limits.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 242px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665316876398557778" border="0" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uU2oWkHPFn0/Tp8_rtXC-lI/AAAAAAAAAdM/QUhhsskEYPY/s320/off_limits.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am SOOO tired of hearing about these celebrities that get caught cheating with stupid women. The latest is Ashton cheating on Demi with some 22 yr old "twink" from San Diego via Texas. She sells her story to Us magazine and claims that Ashton told her he and Demi were separated. Is this girl stupid? Does she not ever pick up a magazine or watch TV? Secondly, So what if he's separated? Technically he's still married!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There are so many things that bug me about this story. The cheating is first, using the excuse of separation, the girl that's clueless, and the endless excuses.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dG73Red6V-8/Tp8_1gWg8kI/AAAAAAAAAdY/xhSKc5_2Rss/s1600/dare.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 242px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665317044705358402" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-dG73Red6V-8/Tp8_1gWg8kI/AAAAAAAAAdY/xhSKc5_2Rss/s320/dare.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Let's go over the situation. So you have Ashton in a club in San Diego. It's time to go back to his room and he looks around and spots this girl who quote is "good enough for the hot tub." Then she goes back to his room with a few of her friends and she ends up sleeping with Ashton. He apparently tells her that he's separated. She believes it and thinks that Ashton is unhappy in his marriage. My favourite part is when they wake up in the morning he looks under the covers and says "I just wanted to make sure I did OK." (Like he couldn't remember what he took home)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My problem with this girl is, how stupid can you be? Have you not picked up a magazine lately or watched Access Hollywood to know that the couple is still together?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other thing is, she claims that if she knew he was happily married that she never would've done it. Really??? Give me a break! The point is he's married even if he says he's miserable that shouldn't matter.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I met a guy a few years ago through my gym. After my friend looked up his tax records we found out he was married. Do you know that he told me that they were going to get a divorce and how miserable of a person she was to be around? Needless to say, nothing ever happened between us. (thank God) What's funny is, that couple that was supposedly so miserable, is still married and they moved to NYC for his new job.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The point I'm trying to make is, LADIES BE SMARTER!!! Why is it that when a man is married or taken, women seem to find that guy more attractive? I don't! Personally if a guy even is "kind of" seeing a girl, he's done! I won't look at him twice. Yet, so many women don't care. Look at all the women that slept with Tiger Woods!! More than half knew he was married and didn't care. In fact, some thought he'd be with them! (SUCKERS)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-axgLNQoAgmE/Tp8-MOC55BI/AAAAAAAAAdA/-_0tf880rVg/s1600/dating.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 317px; HEIGHT: 133px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665315235905004562" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-axgLNQoAgmE/Tp8-MOC55BI/AAAAAAAAAdA/-_0tf880rVg/s320/dating.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure if the women want to feel like they're helping the guy from a dark spot or if they want to see if they can steal him away and feel like they won. What is it?? Why are we so dumb?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here are a few rules that I think every woman should know and live by.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;1. If a guy says he's separated...don't believe it! Also, don't start anything with him till he's moved out and the divorce is final.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. If a guy has a girlfriend...same rules apply. HANDS OFF!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. If you wouldn't want what you're doing to happen in return to you...then it's probably not OK to do it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. If he says that his wife doesn't understand him, or she's crazy, or she won't have sex with him, or she nags him, or they've been unhappy for awhile...HANDS OFF!!! --All if it may be true but you don't need to be a catalyst for a divorce. If they get divorced it'll happen soon enough and you need not get involved.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WB0pLq6L8pI/Tp8999V6TkI/AAAAAAAAAc0/KLHiQJz2cZI/s1600/divorce.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 320px; HEIGHT: 214px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5665314990903152194" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-WB0pLq6L8pI/Tp8999V6TkI/AAAAAAAAAc0/KLHiQJz2cZI/s320/divorce.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I found this quote on another blog and it says a lot. &lt;strong&gt;"You want a guy who is smart enough to know that his marriage is over and strong enough to end it without any outside assistance. A guy that needs or wants to be wrenched out of his marriage is not strong or smart."&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;a href="http://dontgiveupondating.com/2011/08/separation-anxiety/"&gt;READ THE BLOG HERE&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think if more women respected themselves more and respected other people's relationships (good or bad), the world might be a better place. I'd like to think that there'd be less cheating because more women would decide that they aren't going to be a part of it. Remember Karma is a bitch!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hope that Sara Leal learned a lesson from her lack of morals. Hopefully she learned that no matter if someone says they're unhappy there's always another person in the relationship that can be hurt by what you've decided to be a part of. Then again, she probably just learned that she can sleep with a celebrity that doesn't really care about her and then she can make money off it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the old bible saying can apply here, &lt;strong&gt;"Do unto others as you'd have done unto you." &lt;/strong&gt;Also, remember ladies, &lt;strong&gt;if he'll do it with you he'll do it to you&lt;/strong&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-2240941575498287706?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FdMxzpbbW0cnimiuR3XT_UPHMCg/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/FdMxzpbbW0cnimiuR3XT_UPHMCg/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/XWpEXLNqa4g" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/2240941575498287706/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=2240941575498287706" title="6 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/2240941575498287706?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/2240941575498287706?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/XWpEXLNqa4g/if-hes-not-singlehes-off-limits.html" title="IF HE'S NOT SINGLE...HE'S OFF LIMITS" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-uU2oWkHPFn0/Tp8_rtXC-lI/AAAAAAAAAdM/QUhhsskEYPY/s72-c/off_limits.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>6</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/10/if-hes-not-singlehes-off-limits.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8CSHkzeyp7ImA9WhdbEkU.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-7805615951099126136</id><published>2011-10-10T13:02:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-10T17:14:29.783-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-10T17:14:29.783-05:00</app:edited><title>TAKING A LEAP</title><content type="html">You've heard the term "Taking a Leap of Faith" and how people use it and apply it to their life. Well this weekend I took one myself. Maybe the faith part is a bit much, but I did take a leap. A leap outside my comfort zone. I was a little nervous at first but in the end I had a great time and even learned a few things.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="420" height="243" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/TRj6RZ3nFpU" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Over the weekend I took a road trip to visit a guy that I meet a few weeks back in New Orleans. I didn't really know him that well, but I decided to visit him in Austin over the weekend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now women in general tend to be a little skeptical these days. We worry if we meet a guy on his turf, will he chop us up into little bits. Which in a way, I suppose it's a good thing to be a little cautious. However, &lt;strong&gt;sometimes that fear also makes someone rather unadventurous and boring.&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Granted, was I a little worried? Sure, it's not like I google stalked this guy and knew everything about him prior to meeting up with him. I only knew what he had told me about himself from when we meet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I head to Austin with my bag backed and butterflies in my tummy. I get there and we head to dinner at a popular sushi spot. As we waited the hour to be seated for dinner, we sat had a few drinks and refreshed each others memory and learned a few new things about each other. Later, we met up with a few of his friends and had fun night out. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next day we grabbed some lunch at this great burger place he suggested and then walked around South Congress looking at random shops. It was just a cool, random, hanging out kind of afternoon. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Later we grabbed some food at Trudy's and headed to a bar to watch a rugby match he was wanting to see. Now, I don't know the first thing about rugby, but he told me the basic rundown of the sport and I followed along as his team pulverized themselves to try and win. They didn't, but taking the shots in honour of his team were pretty tasty!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All in all it was a great weekend and I'm glad I decided to put on my big girl panties. I'm glad I took the leap and go outside my comfort bubble to have a good time. I mean, there wasn't one time where I didn't enjoy myself. Now will will catch me doing this all the time? No, I won't get that crazy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A question was asked of me several times and that was, "Do you guys plan on seeing each other again?" The answer is there's no plans to at the moment. He said we'd have to do it again, but there's nothing set. And you know, I'm not going to force it. If it happens, it happens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u1O-0WCT8TM/TpNsATj5SjI/AAAAAAAAAcs/1Y_c3i0UBpM/s1600/faith.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 242px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-u1O-0WCT8TM/TpNsATj5SjI/AAAAAAAAAcs/1Y_c3i0UBpM/s320/faith.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5661987909041474098" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If nothing else I realized something. &lt;strong&gt;I realized that I can have fun with someone, be completely comfortable around them and be myself. I also realized that there still are some guys out there that can be gentlemanly and be nice to me.&lt;/strong&gt; It was nice having someone think that you're pretty enough and cool enough to have you meet his friends and hold your hand in public. It was nice to feel like he really enjoyed my company and that I wasn't just a piece of meat to him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The leap was a good one and I'm glad that I took a chance. Where will it go and what will happen now? I have no idea...and maybe nothing will happen, but &lt;strong&gt;sometimes you just need to enjoy the moment.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(sorry if you're not a Celine Dion fan)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="430" height="248" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/ZKYKNZvQ6Jc" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-7805615951099126136?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Z_933McNXP5jB1CKj-fapjOQXIY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/Z_933McNXP5jB1CKj-fapjOQXIY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/C4mef7ri3AY" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/7805615951099126136/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=7805615951099126136" title="1 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/7805615951099126136?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/7805615951099126136?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/C4mef7ri3AY/taking-leap.html" title="TAKING A LEAP" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/TRj6RZ3nFpU/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>1</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/10/taking-leap.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;AkQHSX4-cSp7ImA9WhdUGEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-5802236100855939873</id><published>2011-10-05T14:25:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-10-05T21:32:18.059-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-10-05T21:32:18.059-05:00</app:edited><title>COULD YOU LOOK PAST A CRIMINAL PAST?</title><content type="html">There have been a lot of high profile cases in the headlines lately.  The most notable is the Amanda Knox case.  Convicted of the murder of her roommate in Italy, Amanda spent 4 years in prison and was just released with the overturn of her conviction.  Now she's back in Seattle with her family trying to gain a normal life.   However, will it ever be normal?  Will she be able to get over her past?  Will others to be able to get past it?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With that last question I wondered if I could look past someone's criminal past?  For me, the answer is maybe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It really depends on what the crime is.  Are we talking DUI?  Granted, that isn't great but I see how that might happen to anyone.  That to me is one to look past.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Petty crimes: such as theft, forgery, assault to name a few.  These would all depend on where that person is in their life now.  Were these recent crimes?  Did they do something bad back in college? If the person that is in question isn't or hasn't changed then no matter how small the crime may seem to be, that person is not a person for me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now let's hit up the major crimes list.  Murder, rape, you know...the big felonies. Now granted Amanda was originally convicted for murder but then won her appeal. I think if I ever met someone that was accused of that kind of crime, I think I would have to research every detail of that case.  Now, when it comes to a rape case.  I'm not sure how any woman could date/marry a guy that was ever convicted of that crime. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think in the end it really depends on what was the outcome of the case.  As general rule though I think I would steer clear of the convicted felons.  I mentioned above that I would look past a DUI or DWI.  Here's the thing, I could look past one.  However, if you've been convicted of 2, 3, 4, yada yada yada...Then this to me makes me think there is another problem that needs to be addressed.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Would you be able to look beyond someone's criminal past when it comes to love, dating, and marriage?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-5802236100855939873?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YS4h6qJ4htc1_63M999d5zaIIfs/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/YS4h6qJ4htc1_63M999d5zaIIfs/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/Ik4DReeTdpw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/5802236100855939873/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=5802236100855939873" title="4 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/5802236100855939873?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/5802236100855939873?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/Ik4DReeTdpw/could-you-look-past-criminal-past.html" title="COULD YOU LOOK PAST A CRIMINAL PAST?" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><thr:total>4</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/10/could-you-look-past-criminal-past.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUEHQ3k-cSp7ImA9WhdUFE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-542691371091798112</id><published>2011-09-30T11:16:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-30T12:27:12.759-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-30T12:27:12.759-05:00</app:edited><title>WHY DO WE WOMEN HATE OUR BODIES?</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2InmTgXa2VM/ToTe1KDAliI/AAAAAAAAAcM/T9GqJVGBfqc/s1600/body1.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 300px; height: 200px;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2InmTgXa2VM/ToTe1KDAliI/AAAAAAAAAcM/T9GqJVGBfqc/s320/body1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657892036695594530" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara Michelle Gellar recently admitted to having body dysmorphic disorder. Body dysmorphic disorder is a disease in which a person becomes obsessed with an imagined flaw in his or her appearance. She said that she thinks most women have it. I would tend to agree with her. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's not a woman I know that doesn't criticize her body! She may do it just around her friends, she may do it in front of her significant other, or she may do it when no one is around. Hell, some of us do it in public like I'm going to do in second.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm not sure where distaste for our bodies came from. I know I was never self-conscious till middle school when everyone started developing except me. That's when I started to really pay attention to my appearance and what people thought of me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now that I'm older, I don't worry about my boobs so much as I do about my ass and thighs. Despite the fact that they're small I could look at my boobs all day. My ass is a different story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a bit embarrassed to admit this but, I'll bend over naked in the mirror so that I can see what my rear end looks like. So I know what a guy sees if he's back there. (keyword is IF) &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Recently, &lt;strong&gt;I've become so self-conscious about my butt and legs that I've started this daily regimen that I saw on Dr. OZ to reduce cellulite.&lt;/strong&gt; I've even gone and had 2 consults about procedures that maybe could make my butt look better. I've stepped up the workouts to sometimes 2x a day, I've tuned up my eating, all in an effort to help make my ass not look a road map of Texas. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just had a friend stop by my desk and tell me that she's been feeling down lately about her body. My other friend mentions how looking in her closet is depressing because she can't fit into her clothes. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jjCKYpCO0so/ToTe7oNHiKI/AAAAAAAAAcU/svg6tptEgPU/s1600/body2.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 206px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-jjCKYpCO0so/ToTe7oNHiKI/AAAAAAAAAcU/svg6tptEgPU/s320/body2.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657892147870271650" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of us are obsessed with our bodies. &lt;strong&gt;The only women I've ever met that love they way they look and have no shame are Hispanic and black women.&lt;/strong&gt; This is not a racist comment. It's true. I have yet to meet one of my ladies of colour that doesn't think she looks good. You know who I'm talking about too. These ladies are wearing an out fit that is just a bit too small for them but they are wearing it like they are the hottest woman that you ever laid your eyes on. &lt;strong&gt;Why can't more white girls adopt that attitude? &lt;/strong&gt; &lt;strong&gt;Why can't white girls get that self confidence?&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead every white girl I know is starving herself, skipping meals, pumping themselves up with weird diet pills, shots, and having nothing for breakfast but coffee just so they can say they're getting skinnier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Where did all this start? Did we ruin ourselves with magazines? Did the media do this to us? Do women do it to each other? Did men make us self-conscious? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;How do we go from analyzing our ass in the mirror daily to excepting that it may not be a perfect ass but at least you're healthy?&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What's interesting is that none of us are ever satisfied. I can tell you all the things I hate about my body yet, I'll have someone tell me they wish they were as thin as me. They could say they're tired of having big boobs when I may have to get bigger ones someday because I've grown tired up stuffing my bra.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We are never happy...but when will we just be satisfied? Is that even possible?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k2_JGBO9Lho/ToTfFuVz9iI/AAAAAAAAAcc/D5qqzlYxe5E/s1600/body3.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 274px; height: 320px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-k2_JGBO9Lho/ToTfFuVz9iI/AAAAAAAAAcc/D5qqzlYxe5E/s320/body3.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657892321316042274" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-542691371091798112?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4gIUscyqBMJTcwYBxDAOFknVJeY/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/4gIUscyqBMJTcwYBxDAOFknVJeY/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/cqMvbGZTLb0" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/542691371091798112/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=542691371091798112" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/542691371091798112?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/542691371091798112?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/cqMvbGZTLb0/why-do-we-women-hate-our-bodies.html" title="WHY DO WE WOMEN HATE OUR BODIES?" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-2InmTgXa2VM/ToTe1KDAliI/AAAAAAAAAcM/T9GqJVGBfqc/s72-c/body1.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/09/why-do-we-women-hate-our-bodies.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Ck8DSXo-eyp7ImA9WhdUFE0.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-1506834895171749911</id><published>2011-09-29T01:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-30T11:41:18.453-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-30T11:41:18.453-05:00</app:edited><title>DO GENTLEMEN REALLY PREFER BLONDES?</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y8vwC2VUrcI/ToS_qpLvlvI/AAAAAAAAAcE/lETIMIjbQWA/s1600/blondes.png"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 221px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y8vwC2VUrcI/ToS_qpLvlvI/AAAAAAAAAcE/lETIMIjbQWA/s320/blondes.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657857771214706418" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't know if it's because it's that time of the month or what, but today I'm feeling especially sensitive about the age old question: Do gentlemen prefer blondes?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you were to ask my opinion, YES!!! YES THEY DO! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime I see a sports player: girlfriend or wife - BLOND! 98% of guys that I think are attractive - They go for the blondes!! I can't tell you how many times my friends and I are talking and we see a guy that's attractive. Only to see him with a blond girl! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a member of the brunette sisterhood, I'm starting to get rather discouraged that the most guys really prefer blondes. However, they may end up with brunette just because. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I see this scenario all the time. You have a brunette that's pretty attractive. Then you get a blond who has a *"butta-face" yet, she'll have guys humping her leg. While the brunette that's more attractive goes un-noticed. Why is that?? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I have work to do on me, but in the process of doing the official "Erin makeover" am I gonna have to dye my hair, get fake boobs, eat nothing but celery sticks, and be a cheerleader?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My question is to the guys...Do you prefer blondes? If so, Why? What do they have that us darker haired lovelies are missing? Or do you prefer ladies more exotic looking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;(FYI no matter wha... I'm not dying my hair or getting boobs...eventually there will be someone that prefers a sassy brunette with A+ cup boobs)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Butta-face: not attractive play on words. -used in a sentence That girl looked good from behind but had a butta-face. (Oh but her face!)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-1506834895171749911?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sSzLRv97bVVGIqqNqmNMbLnhZjU/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/sSzLRv97bVVGIqqNqmNMbLnhZjU/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/V6qed78PTWM" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/1506834895171749911/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=1506834895171749911" title="13 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/1506834895171749911?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/1506834895171749911?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/V6qed78PTWM/do-gentlemen-really-prefer-blondes.html" title="DO GENTLEMEN REALLY PREFER BLONDES?" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-Y8vwC2VUrcI/ToS_qpLvlvI/AAAAAAAAAcE/lETIMIjbQWA/s72-c/blondes.png" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>13</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/09/do-gentlemen-really-prefer-blondes.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;Dk8NQnYzeSp7ImA9WhdUEkg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-2213854673115530242</id><published>2011-09-28T14:59:00.007-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-28T19:08:13.881-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-28T19:08:13.881-05:00</app:edited><title>DO YOU EVER TELL YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER "YOUR NUMBER?"</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B5ka_4lZ8IU/ToOj6tKkCII/AAAAAAAAAb8/h9zzwxQoXpk/s1600/What%2527s%2BYour%2BNumber.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 320px; height: 199px;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B5ka_4lZ8IU/ToOj6tKkCII/AAAAAAAAAb8/h9zzwxQoXpk/s320/What%2527s%2BYour%2BNumber.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5657545785859115138" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The new movie with Anna Ferris "What's Your Number?" takes a comical look at the number of people you've had "relations with." In the movie, Anna's character reads a magazine article that says once a person has slept with over 20 people, that you've missed your chance at love. Not sure if that's a true statistic or not but it got some of my friends wondering, "Should you ever tell your significant other your number?" &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The older I get the less important this is to me. When I was 20 and very inexperienced in the sex department, I remember that I had an issue with my ex's number. I had such a hard time knowing that he was with other people. Maybe because I didn't have any past lovers and I was slightly jealous in a way. Now I'm older and more experienced and don't really think about it anymore. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the more experience you have in the sex department; the less you care about where your partner has been. (unless they have herpes) However, I think that this is a double standard. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think most women don't want to know where their man has been because most of us figure that the truth isn't pretty. We think that the number is high and there's probably a few crazy stories mixed in there as well. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now when it comes to the past of the woman, guys are a little funny about things. I don't think men really want to know the number however, if they did find out the number they tend to think it's only acceptable if it's a low number. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked a guy at work what the average guys’ number would be. The parameters were: he was 25-33, went to a 4 year college, was possibly in a fraternity, and had a few serious relationships in his life. The number that he came up with was at least 50. Needless to say I was not surprised by that number. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was surprised that the same guy said if he was dating a girl that had a number higher than 8 was unacceptable! What??? So the girl with the same parameters could only have sex with 8 dudes??? LAME! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pretty much figure that most guys have slept with a great deal of women. That doesn't necessarily bother me. What would bother me is if I found out some of his crazy single guy escapades. For instance, there was a guy that I met who turns out goes home with girls from the bar and he and his friends tag team them. I'm sorry, but even if that was in the past I'm not sure if I could take that guy seriously. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How does this conversation even comes up within a couple? If it does, do you just lie and say a low number? Does it really matter how many people you've been with? Is it different for men and women?&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="420" height="243" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/j9stplJF1ek" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-2213854673115530242?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/R_R2Wd4_7aOD7G57NYHKI6CM-ks/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/R_R2Wd4_7aOD7G57NYHKI6CM-ks/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/amln8Wqw1Ic" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/2213854673115530242/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=2213854673115530242" title="12 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/2213854673115530242?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/2213854673115530242?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/amln8Wqw1Ic/do-you-ever-tell-your-significant-other.html" title="DO YOU EVER TELL YOUR SIGNIFICANT OTHER &quot;YOUR NUMBER?&quot;" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-B5ka_4lZ8IU/ToOj6tKkCII/AAAAAAAAAb8/h9zzwxQoXpk/s72-c/What%2527s%2BYour%2BNumber.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>12</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/09/do-you-ever-tell-your-significant-other.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CUICQXc_fip7ImA9WhdVFkk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-3444290794819607715</id><published>2011-09-21T09:57:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-21T17:19:20.946-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-21T17:19:20.946-05:00</app:edited><title>WHAT'S THE WORST BAGGAGE WE CARRY?</title><content type="html">Everyone enters a relationship with some sort of baggage. Unless of course you're dating an infant. We all bring some piece of luggage along for the ride. In some cases they bring "pieces" of luggage.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that I have baggage that I carry along in my dating travels. My divorce is probably the most obvious piece. Not only does the title of divorce itself have a negative &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;connotation&lt;/span&gt;, but the &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;emotional&lt;/span&gt; scars are baggage as well.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After I got divorced and started dating Mr. Dallas when it came time to meet his family I was very nervous. Even though his family was super sweet and so nice to me, &lt;strong&gt;I was afraid to ever say anything about being divorced for fear they would look at me a tainted goods.&lt;/strong&gt; Now I'm not embarrassed of it. I'm not proud of it. However, it is what it is and I can't change it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The emotional scars that we carry from past relationships are a big one. Once you get your heart stepped on a lot of times you're afraid that the next person will do the same. I have a girlfriend that was cheated on by her fiance and to this day she fears that any guy that she dates will do the same. I have to say I understand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A type of baggage that I don't carry but also don't want to date something with is KIDS! I know men for years would not date a woman that had kids, now more and more women are steering clear it the baby mama drama.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always had a rule that I would not date a guy with kids. People said I was being too judgemental and not giving people a chance. So, I opened up and went on a few dates with a guy with kids.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The guy was a great dad. The mom took off and left the kids with dad to take care of. He was complete Mr. Mom. He took the daughter to cheer practice and he took the son to his sports practice. All of this while having a full-time job and being a workout freak.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The problem for me was I came from a marriage where all I had to compete with was a job and I never was more important. Where dating a guy with kids there's &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;more&lt;/span&gt; going on.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;strong&gt;With life and relationships there's a "totem pole of importance."&lt;/strong&gt; With my ex the totem pole was Himself, Job, Dogs, and then me. When you date someone with kids that totem pole gets a little lower for you. It's him, job, kids, the ex(baby mama), and then you. The reason I put the baby mama in there is because I can't tell you how many times I've heard the Baby mama says "Jump' and the guy says "How High?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know that there are great men out there with kids, I'm just not sure that's something I'm comfortable with.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What is the worst baggage that you think the opposite sex brings to the table? Is it the kids, the baby mama, the ex, mommy issues, or financial issues? We all have an experience that makes us &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;answer&lt;/span&gt; this in &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;different&lt;/span&gt; ways. What's your answer?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe height="259" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/1M7pCS6Jpho" frameborder="0" width="450"&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-3444290794819607715?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XiVPgOLNgWmxj3VSZQQN-Fr_HUM/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/XiVPgOLNgWmxj3VSZQQN-Fr_HUM/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/fNh2cw-IXMc" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/3444290794819607715/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=3444290794819607715" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/3444290794819607715?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/3444290794819607715?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/fNh2cw-IXMc/whats-worst-baggage.html" title="WHAT'S THE WORST BAGGAGE WE CARRY?" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://img.youtube.com/vi/1M7pCS6Jpho/default.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/09/whats-worst-baggage.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;CEIDRXw_cSp7ImA9WhdVFEs.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-907006156950021683</id><published>2011-09-19T14:33:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-19T15:02:54.249-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-19T15:02:54.249-05:00</app:edited><title>I BLAME MYSELF</title><content type="html">I decided to write this after I got a comment just today which was aimed to hurt my feelings immensely. Since reading my blog with "The Hot Show" on HOT 95.7 a month or so ago I've seen an influx of hurtful comments and negativity directed at me. In a way, I can't say that I'm surprised. However, as strong as I try to be and as thick I try to make my skin, sometimes you can't help but have it bother you or make you sad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The comment that I got today read like this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Having a blog makes assumptions that others actually care what you have to say. When you say the same thing over and over again it gets rather boring. Perhaps if you covered a variety of topics the reviews about you would be less personal. For instance, you could talk about why radio in Houston sucks so bad. Or you could bring up why people might want to avoid giving animals as gifts. Be more multi-faceted Erin. Or even great places to go on a date. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;The drama that seems to be your life is boring. You do not come off well. The comments mostly reflect that. Aside from the guys who want to get into your pants and your girls, nobody is very complimentary about this blog. Have some mystery about you! Be happy rather than bitter! Stop trying so hard to prove you are right and the rest of the world is wrong. &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Angry people don't get second dates. People who wear their emotions on their sleeves don't get second dates. And people who write blogs about their relationships get NO dates. Think of it like this: Most normal people have insecurities. You are not alone. If you thought a guy might blog about your date, and what he perceived as your flaws, how likely are you to go out on a second date? Or even a first date with that person? &lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;&lt;/strong&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;strong&gt;Shut down the blog or expand your topics away from yourself. The only one you're impressing is YOU. Your stories are nut funny or interesting. I predict that you are thinking of some clever retort to once again try to make yourself look witty, confident and misunderstood. The real proof will be to see if your girlfriends defend you or quietly retreat. Guys who just want to sleep with you don't count. Let's help Erin be more interesting. Shame on your friends who refuse to tell you the truth&lt;/strong&gt;. &lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Comments like this have always bothered me. Sure, the fact that they're hurtful doesn't help. But, the fact that this person feels the need to rip me to shreds, yet doesn't have enough balls to name themselves. Even if it's just a fake name.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do they possibly have some valid points? Possibly. Do they bring some things up that I'm afraid of myself? Sure. Does this person get off on bringing others down? I would put money on it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The beauty about having a blog is that you can talk about whatever you want. If I want to write about cupcakes for the rest of my life then so be it. I personally enjoy talking about relationships and all that comes with it. So, if you don't like it...then read something else! No one has forced you to read this. You don't comment on a sports blogger and tell them to write about other things that sports!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I always wondered if this blog will be the death of me when it comes to dating? Absolutely!! And now that I'm on "the Hot Show" on Thursday mornings it's crossed my mind even more. However, when I start dating someone I don't write about them. Usually, I don't write about them till after it's all done with (if they even make the blog at all). Also, I write about my friends' dating life so, I have that to work with too.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I post my blog with open ended questions at the end so that if you have an opinion on the topic you can give your 2 cents. I didn't intend for people to use it as an opportunity to chastise and bully me. Hence, why I blame myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blame myself because I put myself out there. And let's be honest it's always easier to criticize than to compliment. When is the last time you called a restaurant to tell how great your dinner was?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blame myself because I write to entertain and yet it gives people an avenue to be mean.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I blame myself because something that started because a boss of mine wanted to me do for this work has turned into something that I get great pleasure from. Something that is a bit of therapy for me. Yet, it makes it a place for people give their opinion on me, rather than the topic at hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the day, I have no one to blame for it because I put myself out there and when you make yourself vulnerable, people will take advangtage of it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-907006156950021683?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9gSKNOhJiKZb23a_0C2tiR8LKRc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9gSKNOhJiKZb23a_0C2tiR8LKRc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/R7HApCJBtzs" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/907006156950021683/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=907006156950021683" title="19 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/907006156950021683?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/907006156950021683?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/R7HApCJBtzs/i-blame-myself.html" title="I BLAME MYSELF" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><thr:total>19</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/09/i-blame-myself.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;A04AQHg-fyp7ImA9WhdVFEg.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-1483168210881423703</id><published>2011-09-19T13:34:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-19T14:19:01.657-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-19T14:19:01.657-05:00</app:edited><title>AM I ANYBODY'S TYPE?</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uZSaOJzTKpo/TnESMurHusI/AAAAAAAAAbs/JLaf3gMByW8/s1600/unique.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 450px; HEIGHT: 325px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652319017223305922" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uZSaOJzTKpo/TnESMurHusI/AAAAAAAAAbs/JLaf3gMByW8/s320/unique.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-oICR4bdpd6U/TnERnT-90zI/AAAAAAAAAbk/cINMjQOGnsM/s1600/unique-just-because-you-are-unique-does-not-mean-you-are-useful.jpg"&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;I was talking with one of my best girlfriends the other night and she made a comment that stuck in my head. She said, "I just don't think I'm anybody's type." Right then I knew exactly what she meant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew what she meant because I feel the same way when I walk in a room. (there's just another girl) Or when a guy walks in the room that I find attractive. I pretty much figure he's looking at the blond girl behind me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everytime I turn around I see more and more people getting a boyfriend/girlfriend, engaged, or married. And all of it makes me question everything about myself. My clothes, weight, body, hair, face, boobs, my personality. I question all of it. I'm starting to think that I'm just not anybody's type. Almost like God made several someones for everyone else but when it came to making my match, God took a nap that day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I consider myself an acquired taste and realize that it will take a special type of person to be with me. I guess I didn't realize that whoever that "special" person is would be this hard to find.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I was at the airport getting my luggage. When I looked down at the name tag I noticed a date on it. It said May 2006. It hit me that was the last year I took a trip with a boyfriend. That's over 5 years ago!! It made me sad... Because let's be honest...that's pathetic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know I'm being hard on myself, but it's really hard for me to imagine there being ANY man thinking when he sees me or meets me, "That girl is my type!". I just can't ever see it happening. It's hard for me to fathom a guy saying that a 30-something radio gal with a dirty sense of humour that has long brown hair with blue eyes is HIS type. In my mind, I guess I think every guys type is blond, with big boobs, skinny little legs, cheerleader type, and laughs at everything you say because she doesn't know what else to do. Oh and wants a man to take care of her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HXttGAIylp0/TnEXYB1B_zI/AAAAAAAAAb0/bFzukGs4duA/s1600/gal_girls_next_door_03.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 230px; HEIGHT: 320px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652324708901846834" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-HXttGAIylp0/TnEXYB1B_zI/AAAAAAAAAb0/bFzukGs4duA/s320/gal_girls_next_door_03.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Are there some people that aren't made for anyone?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-1483168210881423703?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9J-FYCIwp_N7qe1vsQmF5num2n0/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/9J-FYCIwp_N7qe1vsQmF5num2n0/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/Ep08fyICnpw" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/1483168210881423703/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=1483168210881423703" title="3 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/1483168210881423703?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/1483168210881423703?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/Ep08fyICnpw/am-i-anybodys-type.html" title="AM I ANYBODY'S TYPE?" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-uZSaOJzTKpo/TnESMurHusI/AAAAAAAAAbs/JLaf3gMByW8/s72-c/unique.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>3</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/09/am-i-anybodys-type.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;DEMCR3kzeyp7ImA9WhdVEEQ.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-6684657011164630058</id><published>2011-09-14T13:33:00.009-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-15T09:21:06.783-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-15T09:21:06.783-05:00</app:edited><title>HOW MANY 1 NIGHT STANDS IS TOO MANY?</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K3xjYFGsn90/TnEKfub0JCI/AAAAAAAAAbc/gkcsF8dQQtE/s1600/onenight.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652310547483599906" style="WIDTH: 240px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 320px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K3xjYFGsn90/TnEKfub0JCI/AAAAAAAAAbc/gkcsF8dQQtE/s320/onenight.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now if you were to ask my super conservative Christian parents they would that 1 is too many. And...that may be true morally. However, we all make mistakes, have our moments, or just need to get laid. The question was brought to me, how many 1 night stands is too many? My question is it different for guys and girls? Is it better or worse if you don't talk to them anymore or if y'all stay friends?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm a girl that could be considered a late bloomer. Till the age of 28 I'd only slept with 1 man which was my husband. After the separation I started dating Mr. Dallas and he was #2. Since breaking up....1, 2, 3, HOLY CRAP 4 YEARS AGO I haven't had a really serious boyfriend. I might date a guy for a couple months, but honestly, since moving here to Houston 2 years ago I haven't dated anyone longer than about 4 dates.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XtAhVBQR9XM/TnEJ-jUUVlI/AAAAAAAAAbM/DAewizB3wVg/s1600/unforgettable-one-night-stand.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652309977563682386" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 297px" alt="" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-XtAhVBQR9XM/TnEJ-jUUVlI/AAAAAAAAAbM/DAewizB3wVg/s320/unforgettable-one-night-stand.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Getting back to the point. I'll admit, in the last 4-5 years of being completely single I've had a 1 night stand or 2. Am I going to give you the number? HELL NO!!! Am I necessarily "proud" of them either? Not necessarily, however they do make for a good story! Actually, some make for a pretty good part of my tell-all book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'll let you chew on this too. What if you're dating someone and when you get down to the deed they are just awful? I was dating a guy for a bit and when we came down to the business....he was just HORRIBLE! (I should've known because he was a horrible kisser.) Let's just say that it was the 1st and last time we did that. Is it bad if you don't give them a second chance at their performance?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, what if you sleep someone one time but remain friends and keep in contact? Does that count as a 1 night stand?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gER37FFamVI/TnEJqCXHiTI/AAAAAAAAAbE/L1RVto2N_D0/s1600/walk-of-shame-leaving-after-a-one-night-stand.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652309625119672626" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 290px" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-gER37FFamVI/TnEJqCXHiTI/AAAAAAAAAbE/L1RVto2N_D0/s320/walk-of-shame-leaving-after-a-one-night-stand.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;What about men and women, is it more acceptable for a man to have a higher number of 1 night stands? And Why?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say a woman that's 29, who's had a few long term relationships but has slept with 15 guys in her life and half of those were 1 night stands. Is she a whore or slut?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Say if a guy the same age with the same amount of dating experience has slept with say 40 women and 30 of that total number were randoms or 1 nighters. Is he a douche? Or is it normal? Is he acceptable?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have a girlfriend that got married in that last 2 years. Her advice to my and friends and I was, "Girls, sleep with as many men as you can before you get married." God knows I think I should've sampled a little before I got married. Then again, at least I'm not married anymore .&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iw5lHRydcmc/TnEKOvM2upI/AAAAAAAAAbU/negbV8ht6s4/s1600/one%2Bnite.jpg"&gt;&lt;img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5652310255631514258" style="WIDTH: 320px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 274px" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/-iw5lHRydcmc/TnEKOvM2upI/AAAAAAAAAbU/negbV8ht6s4/s320/one%2Bnite.jpg" border="0" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;How many 1 night stands does it take before you become "that girl?" Or do you become "that girl" the first time you have a one night stand? Also, can a guy even be able to judge any girl when it comes to this?&lt;/p&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;I can't wait for your input!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;iframe width="455" height="261" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/35NF4qRpB-w" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen&gt;&lt;/iframe&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-6684657011164630058?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L_Bxu9a88_meh8W9hyx0nf8q5oc/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/L_Bxu9a88_meh8W9hyx0nf8q5oc/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/98d51CU1DZ4" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/6684657011164630058/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=6684657011164630058" title="11 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/6684657011164630058?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/6684657011164630058?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/98d51CU1DZ4/how-many-1-night-stands-is-too-many.html" title="HOW MANY 1 NIGHT STANDS IS TOO MANY?" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-K3xjYFGsn90/TnEKfub0JCI/AAAAAAAAAbc/gkcsF8dQQtE/s72-c/onenight.jpg" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>11</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/09/how-many-1-night-stands-is-too-many.html</feedburner:origLink></entry><entry gd:etag="W/&quot;D0QFRnszfSp7ImA9WhdWFEk.&quot;"><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-952849078738905228.post-5951611075321607352</id><published>2011-09-07T16:04:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2011-09-07T20:28:37.585-05:00</updated><app:edited xmlns:app="http://www.w3.org/2007/app">2011-09-07T20:28:37.585-05:00</app:edited><title>LADIES: IN YOUR 30's IS IT HARDER TO BE SINGLE?</title><content type="html">&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k78gPobuOeU/TmgaJjK2THI/AAAAAAAAAa8/6lvr30C2DQs/s1600/single.gif"&gt;&lt;img style="WIDTH: 300px; HEIGHT: 223px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5649794483898174578" border="0" alt="" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k78gPobuOeU/TmgaJjK2THI/AAAAAAAAAa8/6lvr30C2DQs/s320/single.gif" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;My friend over at Fox 26 Natalie &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_0" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Bomke&lt;/span&gt;, did a segment with Mary Jo &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_1" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Rapini&lt;/span&gt; about single women in their 30's. Asking the question is it harder for women to be single in their 30's? Do we feel pressure to get married? And how is the selection for men?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I'll tell you this is right up my alley.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To address the first question. Is it harder for women to be single in their 30's? Absolutely!! Let's be honest, men always go for the younger girls. Once you hit 30 it becomes really apparent how old you're getting when out in the dating world. It's almost like men have a 6&lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_2" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; sense and can tell that you're eggs are cooking.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd like to think that I don't look my age, but it's tough going out with my single friends and being the oldest girl in the group. Sure guys talk to me sometimes but most of the time they're younger than me and pretty immature.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another factor is the guys that are in my typical age range are few and far between. It seems like any guy that I think I'd like to get to know, he's either seeing someone or has girlfriend. &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_3" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Oy&lt;/span&gt; &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_4" class="blsp-spelling-error"&gt;Vey&lt;/span&gt;!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not married yet??? I feel the pressure. Every time I look at my friends that are getting engaged, married or are having babies I feel an instant feeling of "you're a loser." I know I shouldn't compare myself. I know that everything happens to people at their own time. However, I can't help but get down and think that maybe my window has opened and closed. Sometimes I feel like I may end up settling with someone just OK because I've waited so long for my turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I mean, what girl wants to look at all the kids she went to high school with only to find out that she's one of maybe 2 girls that's not married, has no kids, and has no boyfriend either. Let me tell ya...that's me and it sucks sometimes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for the selection of men goes. There just isn't as many guys to pick from anymore and the one's that are single are either carrying a lot of baggage( i.e. kids, ex-wife, money issues) or still appear to be in play mode.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since my divorce I've only met a couple of people that I thought had real potential. Now most of those I later found out that it was a really a good thing it didn't work out. POINT IS...PEOPLE SUCK!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not only that but the older we get the pickier we become and a lot less tolerant of things we don't like. I know that I'm pickier now than when I was 24. I know how I want to be treated and what I expect from a relationship. That's something I had no clue about back when I was 24.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;The last point I'll make is, when we get older it's harder to meet people. Back in high school or college you had a built in network of people to choose from. When you're older you pretty much just have your job. And I know a lot of people that date a work but &lt;span id="SPELLING_ERROR_5" class="blsp-spelling-corrected"&gt;that can&lt;/span&gt; get messy and it usually does. You might have an outside activity you're a part of here and there, but it's not the same.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;So should us ladies in our 30's throw up the white flag and pretty much just figure that we're dried up? Are we past our shelf life? &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/952849078738905228-5951611075321607352?l=erinaustin.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;
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&lt;a href="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rbGZYFtCiJesQNfKZjD-PO_svXQ/1/da"&gt;&lt;img src="http://feedads.g.doubleclick.net/~a/rbGZYFtCiJesQNfKZjD-PO_svXQ/1/di" border="0" ismap="true"&gt;&lt;/img&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;img src="http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~4/q6AA9p4ucow" height="1" width="1"/&gt;</content><link rel="replies" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/feeds/5951611075321607352/comments/default" title="Post Comments" /><link rel="replies" type="text/html" href="http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=952849078738905228&amp;postID=5951611075321607352" title="12 Comments" /><link rel="edit" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/5951611075321607352?v=2" /><link rel="self" type="application/atom+xml" href="http://www.blogger.com/feeds/952849078738905228/posts/default/5951611075321607352?v=2" /><link rel="alternate" type="text/html" href="http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/ErinAustinsRandomThoughtsAndHappenings/~3/q6AA9p4ucow/ladies-in-your-30s-is-it-harder-to-be.html" title="LADIES: IN YOUR 30's IS IT HARDER TO BE SINGLE?" /><author><name>Erin Austin</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/18202243420976752377</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel="http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail" width="30" height="32" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_C7DkMnGP4zg/TRy9j6MdXJI/AAAAAAAAAW8/Cq9qIqpI75Y/S220/erinaustinpicnew.jpg" /></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media="http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/" url="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-k78gPobuOeU/TmgaJjK2THI/AAAAAAAAAa8/6lvr30C2DQs/s72-c/single.gif" height="72" width="72" /><thr:total>12</thr:total><feedburner:origLink>http://erinaustin.blogspot.com/2011/09/ladies-in-your-30s-is-it-harder-to-be.html</feedburner:origLink></entry></feed>

