The Odd Blog

Updates unplugged

2012-06-25T16:58:00.001-04:00

A lot of people assume I write less for this blog "because I'm married now."

It's the excuse many make when their friends suddenly seem less available, less likely to share personal stories, or suddenly averse to over-sharing.

Of course, I'll admit to seeing a steep decline in my updates since I stopped dating, but blaming that on marriage feels like a cop out - because it's more than that.

Looking back on the last year or so I can see a million different reasons for fewer updates and none of them directly relate to being in a relationship.

Let's face it - dating is equally awesome and terrifying. The stories we get to tell when we're kissed by quivering lips or called incessantly from someone we hadn't even hugged goodbye make for much more interesting tales than "Oh my god, I hit up Target this weekend for a new ironing board!"

But is that because of marriage - or the simple fact we're aging? Our lives are more mundane as we get a little older, living the 9-5 lifestyle, and finding ourselves too busy immersed in our vacations to post updates about them on Facebook.

I could blame my lack of posts due to a lack of creativity - but that doesn't stem from married life at all. I think that stems from long winters of hibernation, not enough sleep, and stresses only a mortgage can muster.

Hardened with a few extra years and armed with a few extra people who might find blog posts offensive, it's often difficult to muster the young, passionate chick who started this ol' blog in the first place.

So here's an excuse that looks more like growing older and less like getting hitched.

Silence

2012-02-24T07:54:00.002-05:00

I sometimes wonder if you're still here
Lurking among the archives

Looking for the me you remember.

When I was a gaping wound
And you were the gauze
Protecting me while still allowing me to breathe.

Our silence
Always said more than our words

In it, you taught me to think
And I taught you how to love, I think.

But now our stillness spans years
Weakening the words we never had to share

When you would know
Without me even saying

That it was never about someone else.
But somewhere else, instead.

On Marriage

2012-02-02T14:54:00.002-05:00

I'm not one to usually follow celebrity news, it always seemed like more of the same, money, wedding, divorce, money, alimony, children with strange names, annnnnd done.

But I'll admit that there were two marriages I thought seemed "pretty legit" based on my lack of inside knowledge and quick glances at the grocery checkout line. (Which is to say I knew absolutely nothing whatsoever.)

The marriage of Hedi Klum and Seal and the marriage of Heather and Jon Armstrong were the two forevers in my happily ever after.

If you don't know the latter, Heather Armstrong is only the world's best-known blogger and her separation was seen in the New York Times in spite of her living in Utah.

Having read Dooce.com for years, I was oddly shocked when I read the news of their separation, as if my closest friend had suddenly sprung this news on me after years of thinking she had "it all figured out." In addition to the shock, I felt a sadness deep enough to almost believe Heather and I were friends, in spite of my only two comments on her blog in 5 years of reading, that she should have called me actually entered my mind for a brief moment before I instead starred at the computer screen in disbelief. Hoping she was coping well, hoping her daughters were as spry and adorable as ever in spite of such an upheaval at home.

In terms of the Klum/Seal saga, the little I knew of their relationship involved her favorable quotes about him as a father and husband and knowledge of their annual parties to celebrate their wedding, along with vow renewals and the things "only happily married" people might take part in. They were the Hollywood couple that could prove the naysayers wrong, that love was possible in a world of glitz and glamour -- until suddenly they became fodder for the tabloids like nearly every other celebrity couple we've had the chance of not-really-getting-to-know.

But most surprising to me was that I felt these separations, more than I likely should. People get divorced or part ways all the time, and these aren't even people I know, realistically I shouldn't care or feel a thing.

It just seems like everything was so right, until it simply wasn't.

And maybe, as a married woman, it's that idea that scares me - that all we have can be gone so quickly, that spring vacations don't mean autumn anniversaries.

Everything is copy

2012-01-12T16:40:00.002-05:00

The dental assistant ventured into the waiting room.

"Chrissie?" she called from across the way, "Chrissie?"

"Right here" I replied as I walked up, following her into the examination room.

It seemed she wanted to make conversation for our 11-step journey and I figured it couldn't hurt anymore than the impending dental work.

"Did I have that right? You go by 'Chrissie'?"

"Yes, always have, never Christina."

"Ah, okay. When I read the name, I was expecting to see a child."

"Nope, umm... just me. It's my name."

"Yeah, obviously, you're not a child... so I was just confused at first."

"No problem, it's my name."

"Okay good, because, when I said it I didn't want to offend you or anything."

Sure lady. No offense taken. I'm not offended that you think my name is an insult, at all.

After all, I'm obviously a grown up. I can take it.

Vacation's promise

2012-01-10T16:11:00.000-05:00

I didn't miss "home." Not at all.

The things I would want, had I decided to stay could have been packed in one box, the rest of it sold. I would have used the cash earned to pay for a place to stay, leaving behind a house with a mortgage in the town we could afford rather than the town we wanted to live in, exchanging it for a small apartment where we could eat pasta while sitting on pillows near the coffee table, drinking wine from mason jars because it was too expensive to ship the ones we'd leave behind.

We could start over, turning dreams into reality and then creating new dreams in their wake, reinventing ourselves, reevaluating our former selves, saying goodbye as eagerly as we would greet new friends.

I'd become less connected to those not around me and more connected to those I can see, touch, hear, feel.

I would make time for the sun everyday. Yoga would be the thing I "do" rather than the thing I "did" before. I would acknowledge that work was something that allowed me to have certain things, but it would not define me or my goals.

Covered in new freckles unearthed by a sun strong enough to fill life's shadows, I longed to stay.

But I was afraid to tell him how I felt as we left our temporary paradise, that I loved our former life until I saw what we could be in a new one, a life of warm breezes and sunshine, a life where the tiny lines on his furrowed brow disappeared and we laughed more. I was afraid he'd wonder why he married me, why we had bought a house here, why we had begun to sink our roots into ground I longed to leave.

And yet, instead of harboring my secret and accepting reality when we were back, he looked to me, brow furrowed and said, "I know exactly what you mean."

Your so-called life

2011-12-22T13:14:00.000-05:00

Social networking is great for a lot of things, catching up with old friends, cyber-stalking your ex, or keeping family/friends informed of big life changes or good times.

But what I don't understand are the frequent updates that fall somewhere outside the lines of information and well within the boundaries of bragging.

You see... I think it's great that you love your husband "so so much" and I'm sure he thinks so too.

But well... I don't need to know each and every time he kisses you goodbye or brings you to a restaurant. Its the virtual version of PDAs.

If you consider your uncle Randy reading about how romantic Mr. Right is - does it not make you feel somewhat strange? Is it all that unlike kissing in the movie theater (with tongue) before the lights go down?

And next comes the question, what are you trying to prove to all your "friends," that your relationship is better than theirs? That you're oh-so-happy while on your dinner date that you're updating Facebook with mobile shots of your entree?

I don't know, but the last time I had a great meal with my man, I was too busy chatting, laughing, and old-person flirting to whip out my cell and update my status.

Sure, if everyone dredged up my updates, I'm sure there would be a brag or two, a senseless bit of self promotion, but at the end of the day, you don't know the minute to minute that my life, or my love brought to the table.

And when I know the ins and outs of your relationship, some years since I've seen you in real life, I can't help but wonder if its all a facade... Where you project the perfect relationship in an attempt to validate your current situation. One where the best things about dinner aren't the conversation or the company, but the price of the entree instead.

Its not you, it's me

2011-11-03T12:36:00.004-04:00

Hindsight offers us the advantage of blaming our exes for almost anything -- they are the reason the relationship failed, and only when we're feeling really kind, might we admit to it being "a compatibility thing."

The latter lets us believe that what ruined that relationship won't find itself in our new and improved union, so we ignore signs that certain problems always resurface, regardless of who we are with.

Some might have to do with our unchanging expectations or even our love of "bad boys" rather than "nice guys."

But every once in awhile we have to admit, that the issue is our own.
The reason the present feels suddenly just like the past is no one's fault but the person who happened to exist in both realities, us.

When realizing this, we might want to run away (again) and place blame elsewhere or ignore the situation because "that worked so well the last time."

But I think the reason some relationships succeed and others don't has less to do with the amount of love or lust found within them and more about our own ability to acknowledge problems while CHOOSING to move in a positive direction instead of fleeing.

It's about realizing we might be a little bit crazy after all, that we're probably hard to deal with after a long day at work, that we might be a little too needy or not quite affectionate enough.

As we find ourselves loving in mature relationships, wherein we know our faults and our partner's faults, it becomes easier to stay, easier to forgive, and easier to accept nothing is ever perfect.

This acknowledgment doesn't have to undermine our current relationship, the one worth staying for, but instead lets us accept that the past isn't necessarily riddled with bad people but maybe just bad choices and timing.

Because sometimes I have to admit, it wasn't him, or him, or him, or even us... it was me.

What patterns haunt your relationships and do you ever want to say you're sorry?

Chapter what

2011-09-28T13:56:00.002-04:00

"Promiscuity is like never reading past the first page. Monogamy is like reading the same book over and over again." - Mason Cooley

I saw the above quote in the book "Lust: A Dictionary for the Insatiable" (Don't ask... it's part of the Deadly Dictionary series).

And I. Liked. It.

Not because it glamorized my latest avenue of holy matrimony, but because it was honest, at least somewhat, about the reality of our choices.

Starting a new book is exciting, choosing it from the shelves and stacks at B&N comes with its own flirtation, and after looking over a few, we settle on what seems most alluring and most in tune with how we're feeling at that moment.

But where is the fun in reading only the first page? If the book is incredible, don't we want to continue reading? I've been guilty of reading the first chapter before moving on, does this simply make me a serial monogamist? Is the first chapter the equivalent of a 3-month relationship?

When it comes to re-reading the same book, over and over, of that I am guilty. There's a handful of books I love so much that opening them up for another round is like visiting an old friend and I sometimes find quotes and tidbits stand out to me more depending the place I'm in as a reader.

Does that make me someone who pines over lost loves? Or does it simply make me an avid reader?

Chime in - do you prefer to read the first page of many books or is it better to reread and rediscover the same book time and time again?

Art camp

2011-06-30T14:31:00.006-04:00

My (almost) 15-year-old sister will be venturing to art camp for the month of July where I'm sure she'll impress everyone with her skills and enjoy being away from home for weeks on end, without any parents to bicker or complain.

But man - I'm worried.

Not because I don't trust her judgment or her abilities, but because I don't trust anyone else.

She's the cutest, smartest, cutest, smartest 15-year-old ever.

You know that awkward phase we all go through? Where our bras are like cotton hangers and our complexion is pimpled while greasy bangs fall in our faces?

Yeah. She skipped that phase.

She's tall and lean, smart and witty.

Wishing her well in the coming adventure is a given, but I certainly hope all the stories I've heard about adolescents and summer camp aren't necessarily true.

I cried during her high school play like a 9o-year-old grandma who would never step foot in an auditorium again. I celebrate her birthday with tears while whimpering "when you were little..." far too many times.

So we're just going to file this one under... "Reasons I'm not a mom yet."

Because loving little people hurts.

PHOTO: 2006 - When "Build A Bear "was still cool

Change

2011-06-24T16:37:00.001-04:00

I don't think I've had a mushroom in at least three years.

Nope, not one.

Every entree is ordered "without mushrooms" and steaks are served with onions but never the typical squishy counterpart, but not because I don't like mushrooms.

It's because he doesn't.

He doesn't like the thought of them, the look of them, or at worst, the taste of them - at all.

And as someone who has a particular aversion to certain kinds of fish, I can appreciate the idea that some foods just don't do it for us.

But after looking through old photos, I realized my life, when looked at through a particular lens, can be seen as a series of relationships dictating my actions.

Wanting to please, be supportive, remain appreciative, I've let certain aspects of my personality falter, remaining sweet on days when its only venom I seem to taste.

For whatever reason, I fear being "that wife." That wife who bickers and complains about household chores, that wife who rushes from wedding to baby planning, that wife who gives him a hard time about... well... essentially him being him.

And so I wonder why, since I'm so in tune with how HE FEELS, why I don't spend more time being HONEST with how I FEEL.

Because sometimes, dammit, I want mushrooms

The Now Whats

2011-06-16T10:52:00.003-04:00

For much of my past I had a clear goal in mind.

The 5-year-old me wanted to learn to read, the middle-school me wanted to be high-school-me and the high-school-me longed for college.

After a few acceptance letters and a choice, it was then a typical goal: graduation.

Then the job search began. Goal: Journalism industry.

Annnnd. Done.

With the "learning and job" thing under control, I focused on finding a man.

After far too many ups and downs and a slew of losers I'm embarrassed to wave to now, I found that too.

Man. Check.
Marriage. Check.
House. Check.
Job. Check.
Health insurance. Check.

And then came the crushing feeling of wondering... what now?

With my focus no longer on what I could change on the outside to be "happier" I was suddenly left with only me.

Me. Living a life I thought I wanted. A life I worked for. A life "accomplished."

But instead of feeling fulfilled and finally happy, I'm consumed with the urge to push forward, toward something, something more, something different.

The only goal now - is change.

So over

2011-04-22T11:13:00.002-04:00

After stumbling upon the website "ItWasOverWhen.com" I couldn't help but create my own lists of all those times I knew I was finished, even if the relationship took a bit longer to finally fizzle out.

I knew it was over when...

He was upset that I had other plans. To stay home. Alone. And take a bath. After doing everything together for far too long, that was just too much.

He wore the same shirt for three days straight.

I uttered the phrase "He's nice, he's just not smart enough for me."

He insulted my body to another man in the hopes that it would help "keep me safe from that guy's advances."

He thought "Beer Wars" was the best movie ever. Seriously. BEST MOVIE?!

He declined a picnic for "fear of bugs." (Real Man = Not-Afraid-Of-Ants.)

He said - "You don't need a guy like me, I'm crazy." And. Meant. It.

Your turn:

When did you KNOW he/she was not the one?

Come here often?

2011-03-02T10:43:00.004-05:00

Nearly all of my single friends in their late twenties and early thirties are members of some sort of online dating service.

And while I don't think there is anything inherently wrong with online dating, it's a practice I could never get behind successfully while I was single.

I joined at least one site for all of 2 weeks and realized I had little interest in maintaining an account while fighting off advances from men who were decades beyond my "desired age bracket." The few worthy suitors who approached me ended up being evidently crazy -- as I was too busy with real life to catch up with virtual friends.

After hours of discussion with those still in the throes of Cupid's web of dating options, I think I finally realized why it all felt so awkward...

Starting a conversation in person means seeing someone of interest and commentating on what immediately strikes you.

Nice hair, eyes, smile, laugh, shoes, drink choice.

But with online dating, you're immediately armed with too much information about your love interest, from their astrological sign, favorite food, favorite book, movie, and beyond...

With all of the typical newly-dating questions have been answered, what is left to talk about?

It's likely you already know how they prefer their eggs in the morning.
Not because you've had the pleasure of making them after a long night, but because they told you and everyone else who can view their profile.

And so I wonder... how does one begin a conversation successfully in the online dating world where a person exists not as a three dimensional mystery but rather an entry in love's modern encyclopedia?

It seems the "I like your profile, you sound interesting" approach is likely to get old fast...

Consequently you must come up with something original, something thought provoking, something that gives your most flattering photo a leg up.

Because instead of being "the hot one" in a bar full of unemployed alcoholics, you're just one of many on the world wide web... where the competition is as endless as your search parameters.

Mrs. Peter Pan

2011-02-16T12:46:00.003-05:00

(cue Peter Pan's "i won't grow up" song NOW)

OH ODD BLOG HOW I'VE MISSED YOU.

Seriously. I have.

I thought with the departure of two odd blog writers, the conversion to a just-me based conversation, and becoming a married woman indicated it was time to possibly retire this blog.

But a quick look through the drafts section proves me wrong. I know it's been months since I wrote a thing, and there was a medical emergency hiatus in the months of September through December where I failed to write, but when I re-emerged with relationship questions/advice plenty of readers were there to comment and encourage a come back.

Only after realizing I have little interest in writing about all things homemaker did I acknowledge how badly I missed the "me" who wrote for this blog. The "me" with a voice far too brassy for elegant conversation, the me who wears 4 inch platform heels rather than an apron.

AND SO: I'm back. At least... I think maybe. (cue Justin Timberlake or... maybe not.)

What I need is some help from you readers. Comment below and tell me your favorite posts, what you miss, and what topics you want to hear about. I want to think of this as a transition rather than an end...

Of course, no one wants to be the last to leave the party...

But if my memory serves me correct, leaving first means you miss all the fun.

<3

THE ODD RESPONSE - Name change after marriage

2010-12-15T11:28:00.002-05:00

Bride-To-Be recently asked...

I'm currently engaged (to be married 2011) and I started thinking about my last name. Traditionally, the wife takes the husbands last name. However; I am not really what you'd call traditional in any way and am worrying (maybe to much) about the message that taking it really has. I don't really feel that names are all that important..its the people attached to them that matter the most (a rose by any other name..) but its MY name. I feel sort of weird having to give it up. Also.. I want to bring my future children up in a household where men and women are treated equally (a safe-haven from the outside world where that is not the case).

What kind of message would be taking my future husband's name send to my future daughters? Sometimes I think I'm thinking too much about this and my thoughts get all jumbled together.

Its just a name... I guess its just one of those things where I feel like its unfair towards the woman. Why does she have to be the one to give up her name? Who decided that the son is the one who is to carry on family names, you know?

Anyway, I'm not really sure what I'm going to do yet but I'd love some perspective. Will it even matter 20 years down the line?

Dear Bride-To-Be,

I know very well what it feels like to be "nontraditional" and yet still at the mercy of societal expectation. As brides we're expected to want it all, frilly white ball gowns to chocolate fountains, letterpress invites and a limitless budget. And at the end of the day, we're supposed to be excited about "taking his name" and all it entails. We feel as though we're supposed to enjoy our new signature as much as we adored scribbling our crushes name next to ours in 8th grade.

But at the end of the wedding day, at the end of the engagement, and on the cusp of marriage, changing our name might feel like "too much."

After all, we changed our marital status, our w-4s at work, and our lifestyle for him... for the marriage and in light of all the newness, giving up yet another aspect of our identity feels like a huge sacrifice.

Some people may say "it's just a name." But I don't agree, it's part of our known self, part of the person we became, part of the person he fell in love with. It's more than just a word, it's the last name of our parents, it's our lineage.

As women who seem to be getting married later and later, it's also our professional self, our pen name, our work experience all rolled into a name we've gone by for as long as we can remember.

And so to answer your first question, I don't think you're over-thinking this. I tend to think most people under-think it, they don't question why we do these things in our society and so they follow blindly with what is "usually" done without considering the outcome. Here's some general info on what global name-changing practices are from Wikipedia. Oddly enough, some of the areas considered to be less concerned with equality are the areas in which women usually retain their maiden names.

But I applaud you, for going against the grain and questioning your personal motives, your future-husband's, and the outcome it may have for your family.

Pay close attention to your wording when you think about this, as you asked...
"I feel sort of weird having to give it up."

I think this feeling of "giving it up" is a normal gut response. It feels like something is being taken from you. But I think when we open our minds a little broader, we might find rather than surrendering our former name, we're instead gaining a new one. And that is actually pretty cool, it's a fresh start and a symbol to those around us that we've entered a new stage in our lives, where we're building a family out of choice rather than the one we were given at birth.

You then mentioned...

Also.. I want to bring my future children up in a household where men and women are treated equally (a safe-haven from the outside world where that is not the case).

This is where I could go on FOREVER discussing the man/woman equality issue. I think men and women should be treated "equally" in that they deserve the same respect, equal pay for equal work, human rights etc. But at the end of the day, men and women aren't "the same." Of course there are stereotypes we both fight against, but in spite of these we have our differences physically/mentally that have been documented and proven. Ideally, we raise our children in an environment where they feel they have equal opportunities regardless of their sex, but similarly we must all know our biological differences.

That said, your children will learn equality based on your actions and your husband's actions, not based on your last name. You're gaining a "family" name in taking his, you're avoiding the "why don't you share a last name" question at every future dinner party.

I think in taking your husband's name, the message you're sending your daughters is that you wanted to, regardless of your reasons. Because at the end of the day, you don't "have to." There's no law that says you must take his name, and no one can fill out the appropriate paperwork to see it through except for YOU.

And if that is the message you're sending, is it really so bad? Isn't part of equality about doing what we want to do without restriction, whether our reasons are based on ease, tradition, or making our own way?

There are always the options to hyphenate, to not take his name, to choose a new name for the two of you, for him to take your name... But I think it's important to determine if those choices say something about you that simply taking his name wouldn't.

At the end of the day, it's a personal choice, and not one to be taken lightly, your name is attached to your identity, your past. But marriage is about your future, it's about agreeing to make a permanent change in your life by accepting compromise, sacrifice, and a hope for getting more in return.

(Also feel free to mention to those daughters of yours that it was a woman who grew them in her belly for 9 months, I'm sure that piece of information will say a lot more about your differences and equality than any old last name ever could).

And when you consider all that you'll gain, ask yourself if the name will matter in 20 years as much as it seems to matter now. Do you look at your mother, or her mother or any other older married woman and think, "Wow, she's Mrs. His-Last-Name, she must not be treated as his equal and probably thinks feminism is a bad thing."

I bet you probably won't.

I bet it will be something more like this...

"Wow, she's still married?! I wonder what they're doing right..."

READER QUESTION: The Name Change

2010-12-06T14:51:00.002-05:00

An Odd Blog reader recently sent in a question regarding marriage and the idea of changing your last name.

Before I jump in and tell her how I handled this very question, I'm going to open this one up to fellow readers who may have some insight.

To take his last name, hyphenate, or stay with the maiden name?

Bride-To-Be asked...

I'm currently engaged (to be married 2011) and I started thinking about my last name. Traditionally, the wife takes the husbands last name. However; I am not really what you'd call traditional in any way and am worrying (maybe to much) about the message that taking it really has. I don't really feel that names are all that important..its the people attached to them that matter the most (a rose by any other name..) but its MY name. I feel sort of weird having to give it up. Also.. I want to bring my future children up in a household where men and women are treated equally (a safe-haven from the outside world where that is not the case).

What kind of message would be taking my future husband's name send to my future daughters? Sometimes I think I'm thinking too much about this and my thoughts get all jumbled together.

Anyway, I'm not really sure what I'm going to do yet but I'd love some perspective. Will it even matter 20 years down the line?

Thanks

2010-11-24T13:24:00.003-05:00

In honor of Thanksgiving, I toyed with the idea of writing about the struggles that arise during the holidays, the question of with whom to spend time, the struggle of affording a dinner more lavish than most.

But oddly enough, while the list of complaints began to fester, I suddenly became overcome with a separate list, rearing its uncommon head.

Of things I am actually thankful for.

-For the fact her cancer was stage one.
-For authors so talented their descriptions say things our world never could.
-For meeting my favorite author and seeing his scribbled name "with love" on the inside cover of the book I've nearly memorized.
-For my husband.
-For the word husband and all it entails.
-For feeling healthy now.
-For a wedding with our parents, still married, his and mine.
-For NPR
-For streaming Netflix
-For pumpkin pie. With whipped cream.
-For leftovers
-For blog traffic that soars when I do what I love
-For jeans that are really leggings.

And of course...

For the comments section.

Your turn.

READER QUESTION - The Odd Response

2010-11-18T10:38:00.004-05:00

Mr. K asked...

I met a really attractive and intelligent woman at a party a few weeks ago. It was a public event at an art gallery. She was a high school teacher in her early thirties (I'm 27) and seemed very educated and sophisticated. She had classic curves - large bust, narrow waist, shapely legs/hips, etc., but not what I would consider "overweight", and was wearing an outfit that really flattered her figure. We had been talking for about a half hour and really seemed to develop a great rapport. We had even made tentative plans to meet for coffee sometime.

Then, things suddenly went downhill. There was a pause in the conversation and I commented that she had a "really nice, hourglass figure". I thought she would take it as a compliment but instead she became deeply offended. She said, "Excuse me? Why are you talking about my figure?" I went into damage control mode and tried to clarify my comments but I think I only exacerbated things as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. She told me I was being "inappropriate" and that she was very "disappointed" and then with a look of complete disgust, WHAP!, she slapped my face and departed. As I stood there alone rubbing my cheek, I was trying to figure out why she was so upset. It seemed like a harmless comment to me but maybe I don't understand women as well I should. I do have her email address. Do you think I should send her an apology note or should I interpret the slap in the face as a definitive way of saying she wants no further contact?

Dear Mr. K,

I hope you gained some insight from our reader comments found in this post, a lot of which I tend to agree with.

And while no two women are the same, I will admit that for most part, we're accustomed to compliments on our figures, hair, and eyes. A "sophisticated woman" like the one you mentioned probably had enough full-figured comments throughout her high school days and early/mid twenties to last her a lifetime. As an educated, art-loving individual in her early 30's she probably wanted you to compliment her insight and opinions rather than her sexy curves.

If you must compliment her, focus on something she may not have heard a thousand times before, tell her she has a great laugh or something that shows you're LISTENING not just LOOKING.

You mentioned in your comments that in addition to complimenting her "full figure" you also compared her to KIM KARDASHIAN.

For the record, when making comparisons to famous people, try not to choose those who are only famous for making sex tapes and subsequently reality television. Sure, Kim is a beautiful woman, but women want to be MORE than beautiful objects, we want to be awesome people too. Comparing a woman you just met to someone who is most notable for being a sex object is never a good idea. Lump in the fact that Kim's curves are sometimes considered fat rather than fab, and you've possibly insulted someone rather than complimenting them.

I think your comment to this woman may have had a place... but that place wasn't 30 minutes into meeting her at an art gallery. That place is actually 3:30 am in a bar. When dating, it's important to know your "audience." Save the sexual references and comments for when you're actually dating someone, not just meeting them for the first time.

I see in your comments that you eventually emailed this woman an apology, I think that was a honest thing to do on your part and I'm glad she gave you some closure (don't contact her again of course, she knows you're "interested" so leave it at that for now). I personally wouldn't recommend contacting anyone who made it so apparent that you'd crossed the line in the future, but take this lesson and run with it.

Lastly, I don't think it's ever appropriate to slap anyone across the face, regardless of their comments. So in addition to being confused, I think you should also consider how lucky you are that such a hotheaded lady didn't end up your girlfriend.

I hope the comments and this insight helped, I'm sure the next time you meet a fabulous woman with sexy curves you'll know to save the "compliments" for a little later in the relationship (like when you find out how she like her eggs in the morning;)

Thanks!

Do you have a question for The Odd Blog? Email it to the link above and see what those who have been in your dating shoes have to say.

READER QUESTION - Hour Glass Figure

2010-11-16T10:00:00.003-05:00

An Odd Blog reader recently sent in a question regarding his approach to women asking for advice.

Before I jump in and tell him what he's doing right (and wrong!) I'm going to open this one up to fellow readers who may have some insight.

Mr. K asked...

I met a really attractive and intelligent woman at a party a few weeks ago. It was a public event at an art gallery. She was a high school teacher in her early thirties (I'm 27) and seemed very educated and sophisticated. She had classic curves - large bust, narrow waist, shapely legs/hips, etc., but not what I would consider "overweight", and was wearing an outfit that really flattered her figure. We had been talking for about a half hour and really seemed to develop a great rapport. We had even made tentative plans to meet for coffee sometime.

Then, things suddenly went downhill. There was a pause in the conversation and I commented that she had a "really nice, hourglass figure". I thought she would take it as a compliment but instead she became deeply offended. She said, "Excuse me? Why are you talking about my figure?" I went into damage control mode and tried to clarify my comments but I think I only exacerbated things as she rolled her eyes and shook her head. She told me I was being "inappropriate" and that she was very "disappointed" and then with a look of complete disgust, WHAP!, she slapped my face and departed. As I stood there alone rubbing my cheek, I was trying to figure out why she was so upset. It seemed like a harmless comment to me but maybe I don't understand women as well I should. I do have her email address. Do you think I should send her an apology note or should I interpret the slap in the face as a definitive way of saying she wants no further contact?

Date Night

2010-08-16T09:17:00.003-04:00

Whenever a long term relationship veers from passion into the comfort stage, the remedy is often "date night."

Couples decide that one night a week, they will get all dressed up like they used to, enjoy a date on the town like they used to, and consequently hope to feel, like they used to.

For some couples, Friday nights are spent in pajamas long before 8 o'clock and there is a palpable longing to feel "new" again, in search of a spark that shone its brightest in those first few dates.

But sparks are meant to fade, their beauty is in their quickness, because without their transience they lose their very meaning.

And rather than celebrate a time that's passed, and long for it...

Perhaps we could find contentment in comfort, in ordinary life.

Accepting that a spark is a means to an end, an end that is late night TV, pajamas after work, and a real relationship, one without glamour and constant excitement.

And so instead of trying to go back in time, we could appreciate the spark's incandescence from a distance, a place without it, but a place where we're not alone.

The Dating Game

2010-07-23T09:47:00.003-04:00

If there is one thing I regret from my single days, it's the fact that I never took part in some of the modern games that make finding the one so interesting.

Sure, I had a blind date with a giant at 16-years-old, but that was far from fun. And there was that one week I signed up for Cupid.com, but that just ended with a few online stalkers and archived AIM conversations.

What I'm really talking about is SPEED DATING.

That's right, a bunch of mini dates with like-minded people who are just as nervous as you, but with whom you only need to spend a few minutes rather than a full meal followed by a game of passing the check.

And lucky for you Po-Town singles...

You can enjoy this dating game locally and soon.

Check it out.

Speed Dating at Cosimo's in Poughkeepsie!

August 13, 2010. Sign in begins at 7:30 pm and dating starts at 8!

Go and report back to my nearly-wed self and let me know what I missed!

Ms. Understood

2010-07-14T12:58:00.003-04:00

People think I'm shy.

And people who know me, think this is ridiculous.

Sure, I was shy.

In kindergarten.

After spending five years in a tiny town with only my mother and sister to occupy me, I'd grown accustomed to talking in a whisper and new faces brought on new anxieties I'd never wanted to experience.

But after I was forced into a world that looked incredibly scary to the miniature life I'd led until that point, I slowly grew out of my shyness and into a more bold self, the woman I consider myself today.

I found my stride in a small group of friends, people who understood my humor, people I could look to for entertainment, support, and acceptance.

But I was still aware of how often I was misunderstood.

My humor seemed lost on most outside my social circle and many conversations I had the misfortune of overhearing seemed too petty for my input.

And so, after curing myself of early childhood shyness, I became quiet for other reasons.

Not because I was too timid to interject, but because it didn't seem worth my time to do so.

Because the conversations of those around me often focused on things of little interest to me, television shows I didn't care to watch, classroom discussions on books I'd read a decade before, gossip about how much weight so-and-so gained, I decided to keep to myself a little more.

If I chose to interject, my thoughts were often lost on those around me, blank stares and quiet moments filled only with an awkwardness my silence never seemed conjure on its own.

And so what looked, on the outside, to be shyness crept back in.
Meeting new people became just a handshake and a simple smile again, rather than a conversation where only I seemed amused.

The headphones were worn more frequently, drowning out the noise of my surroundings and allowing me to be myself instead.

Not shy.
But disinterested. Unamused. Sometimes offended.

And often, aware that people are much more comfortable with the idea that you're shy...

Than the idea that you may just not like them all that much.

Wedding Wants

2010-06-30T15:36:00.005-04:00

I'm the sort of gal who weighs the pros and cons of each and every purchase.

Short of fresh produce, I check the prices on most things at least 5 times, stare at new tops longingly from afar as I wait for sale prices, and my most frequented Google search is for

PRINTABLE COUPONS.

So just imagine then, how it felt to find myself planning a wedding.

For nearly two years, I flashed my engagement ring and declared we had yet to set the date because we couldn't "make up our minds."

When in reality, each budget discussion caused minor panic, and there was always something better to buy, something I could enjoy for longer than one day, and so the planning never amounted to much.

At least until I had a bit of an epiphany...

After a particularly lovely birthday, where instead of listening to me, my friends and family had flowers sent to the house, left long voicemails full of birthday songs and well-wishes, and purchased gifts I considered far-too luxurious, I realized that I've never really celebrated me before.

(I know, I know, it's about "us" but there is at least 1/2 "me" in there too.)

Honestly, never.

I always hoped no one would fuss over my birthday, I had pizza and beer after my college graduation, and I think we toasted our engagement over a meal supplied by Darden Corporation.

It was just the way I always did it, insisting that nothing was really a "big deal" if it involved me, my accomplishments, or my happiness.

It was always easier to fend off disappointment that way.
Without the party the cake would never be overcooked and without a real wedding only the imaginary one would need to meet my expectations.

But instead of fearing disappointment and letting it dictate my plans, I think I'll have more luck fending off regret instead.

I regret the lackluster graduation party, I regret forgoing the engagement party, and I regret all of the opportunities where I should have celebrated my successes instead of hiding them behind a cynical smile.

So instead of pretending I don't want a wedding at all, I'm finally committing to a new reality, one where actually...

I DO.

Labor & Love

2010-06-22T12:22:00.003-04:00

I realized yesterday, that my close friend and I are OLDER now than our mothers were during our first play date in 1987.

Back then, almost-30 meant no longer a kid.
It meant being a mother.

For quite a while the word "mom" never infiltrated our core group of friends unless we were talking about unflattering jeans, holding our pocket books while we danced, or haircuts with short wispy layers.

But at this very moment, one of us is making the trek into motherhood, one contraction at a time.

She is surrounded by family as she journeys into a world that will never look quite the same, a life of no longer being alone on the inside.

And as I picture her in pain, eyes welling with tears they way they did in kindergarten after falling on the playground, or years later when he wasn't quite enough, I wish I was there to tell her it's going to be alright.

Because it will.

However different it becomes in the process.

Open Letter

2010-06-10T13:44:00.002-04:00

Dear Guy in the Red T-Shirt,

Please, get off your cell phone.

I know you're just "waiting in line for a sandwich" but that gal doing just the same a mere 10 inches in front of you enjoys her deli time as quiet time. For her, it's about not being bombarded with outside stimuli, for her, it's about the turkey on a hard-roll, not your favorite movie.

I feel like I know you, Guy in the Red Shirt. I know you like a certain kind of beer and it "only takes 5 for you to be wasted."

I know you wanted to go swimming instead of working (join the club) and that you were just grabbing a sandwich and a salad (both, really?) but none of these things are important to me.

And much like I'd rather not feel your breath on the nape of my neck, I'd prefer you keep your cell phone off, your mouth shut, and your body a few paces behind the person in front of you.

Because I wasn't moving toward the deli counter to get a better look at what they had to offer, I was trying desperately to get further and further away from YOU, your ONE SIDED CONVERSATION.

Sincerely,

Girl in the Black Sweater Who Hates You