The Educated Slut

The Lies We Believe

2013-08-16T15:51:00.001-06:00

“Behind a great man, there’s a great woman.”

“The man is the head of the household, but the woman is the neck.”

Odds are, if you are a woman, you’ve been told these and countless other phrases that promise that even though men run the world, we’re the ones pulling the strings. What a load of bullshit.

These phrases, along with the ideology that drives them, is one that’s been used to keep girls and women alike where society thinks they belong. Even the promise of gender equality we’ve been raised to believe is hollow. The act of saying something is true does not make it so. When we start realizing that this promise fails to deliver results, when we start waking up from the haze, we start questioning the status quo. That’s when these maxims come in from all around. We believe them, because we want to believe that there’s a world where women and men can be equal, where women are as respected as men. We start telling ourselves that even though men appear to have all the power, we’re the clever puppeteers. We’re the face behind the smoke and mirrors, and that’s alright, or at least that’s what we tell ourselves.

The problem with these maxims, these ideologies, is that a woman can’t claim the spotlight. There’s no space for a woman to shine in these ideologies. Our work is behind the scenes, we’re expected to do it, and we’re expected to bow our heads down and do it. As an avid reader of dating books, I don’t know how many times I’ve read that a woman should always make sure her man feels manly enough by praising, or else his libido might suffer. While this may be true, the fact remains that the focus of being a successful woman, even in a relationship, depends on doting upon the man. A man is set up as being the gazer and a woman exists as an accessory; a man is the success story, while the woman is a silent partner in his success.

What about women? What about our success? What about our libido? Maybe we’d be more into sex, more willing to go to bed with a partner or spouse that pays that favor back, someone who makes us feel great, who supports our rights to be equal, someone who is willing to do their fair share in the household.

If we buy into the ideology of these maxims, what we end up believing is that there’s not a woman who can stand on her own and shine through her merits. We are taught that we have to wait for a man to come along, mold him to what we think he should be and cleverly pull the strings. If this were true, it wouldn’t be fair to the men either.

However, I’m not implying that a partnership, a marriage or a relationship can’t bring out the best in each other. Successful relationships do this. What I am arguing is that if, as women, we keep holding on to our beliefs that we control the world behind the scenes, we’re in for a rude awakening. We are letting an outdated notion of our place in society dictate who we become and the choices we make along the way. If we hold onto these lies, then we’re not advancing our cause. Wouldn’t it be a better example to our daugthers, our peers, and other women if we were able to shine without being afraid of being disliked?

Conversations with my Mother

2013-07-10T09:45:00.002-06:00

Last Saturday, I awoke to six e-mails and seven text messages from my mother, along with a hyperactive and hungry puppy that wouldn't let me sleep in. All texts and e-mails were wedding related.

I cursed the moment I showed her how to work her e-mail and text pictures.

Instead of replying (really, I should know better), I just hoped that I could ignore these as long as humanly possible. Ideally, until after the wedding was over and done with.

Three missed calls and a facebook message later, I knew I had to answer the phone at some point prior to the wedding, or else my mother's next line of defense was going to be facebook messaging my fiance so that he could get me to call her. I picked up my phone and dialed for torture.

"Hi mom, is everything ok?" I asked in hopes that she wasn't calling me to discuss something wedding-related.

Little did I know, it wasn't wedding related. It was something worse.

"Oh, yeah. What are you up to?" she replied.

"Nothing. Just sitting here with the pup. You know, my usual."

"I see. Did you see the e-mails I sent you at 2 AM?"

"Haven't had a chance to read them," I replied cringing at my blatant lie. "What are you up to?"

"I'm here at the mall. You won't believe who I just ran into."

"Oh no"

"Oh yes"

"No, no, no, no, no, no. You did not."

"Oh, not him. His mother."

She had ran into my ex fiance's mom. Great. Just peachy.

"What did you tell her?" I asked sweetly so that she wouldn't be defensive.

"Nothing."

Crickets. I could hear crickets over that awkward pause.

"What. Did. YOU. Tell. HER?"

"Oh, nothing. That you were getting married soon. That's all," she replied breezily.

Only my mother, folks. Only my mother.

"She asked about you, about how you were doing. And I said that. And then she asked about the groom, and I said he was fantastic. And I didn't ask her about him. I didn't want to know anything about him. His sister was there, too. And you know how they don't get along," she kept blabbering. The sister thing I knew; in fact, it was one of the biggest red flags in our relationship. "So then I kept looking at her and her smile kept getting bigger and bigger. Like she couldn't wait to say something about you getting married. It was gold."

"Ok, mom."

"But man, I wish I would run into him. I want to ream him out, tell him how awful he is."

"Mom, mom, mom, mom. No. If you run into him, you don't say anything. You don't want him to feel important."

"Really, you think so?"

"I know him. It'll just make him feel like he's worth something. Just ignore him if you want to hurt him. Trust me."

"I guess."

Who wants to bet she'll be petty and mean to him if they cross paths again?

The Biggest Con

2013-07-08T11:56:00.002-06:00

The promise of having it all is the biggest con of all.

From an early point in my childhood, teachers and adult figures all around praised my sassy, intelligent and oftentimes loud-mouthed self; these figures encouraged me to live up to my potential, find something to be passionate about and exploit that passion. They told me that if I jumped through certain hoops I could "make it;" I could have it all (whatever that means).

Here I am, after jumping through several hoops, years of successful school, higher education, and with several diplomas and work experience under my belt with a sour aftertaste in my mouth. Those promises? Yeah, they're a little bit like artificial sweetener. Though my life is certainly not horrible, I am far away from having it all (unless having it all means having ten dollars leftover from my paycheck on a monthly basis after I pay for gas, insurance, car, cell-phone, rent, student loans, and credit cards).

I guess it could be worse, but that doesn't mean it couldn't be better. The problem, ladies and gentlemen, is that having it all is the biggest con we have dreamed up for ourselves. We keep working hard, studying late at night, and neglecting ourselves to the point of exhaustion for a shot at having it all.

Then, those same adults who encouraged me to jump through hoops keep dreaming up new hoops I have to jump through in order to attain some imaginary degree of success. It's the millennial conundrum, the rules keep changing, the older generations call us lazy and entitled (no matter how hard we work), and we keep getting more and more unemployable because we're "lazy and entitled" as a generation.

With student debt rising to an all-time high and people continuing to return to college for a shot at a better future, I keep wondering when the hoops are going to be over and done with. I can't afford to work an internship when I have to work two jobs in order to make ends meet. I guess I could forgo sleep altogether, but I imagine that would impact my productivity and focus. Just a thought.

I sit here typing this and wonder how many people are going through a similar scenario. I would wager a lot of us are, no matter our generation. So having it all? We'd be better off understanding that it's not what we thought it would look like. In fact, it's the biggest con of all.

Becoming the Educated Slut

2013-07-01T14:07:00.001-06:00

When I started this blog, I was angry, confused, and thrust into the sometimes vomit-inducing waters of dating for the first time in six years. My ex-fiancé had broken up with me because the long-distance relationship was too much for him to handle (though I'm pretty sure it was because his penis wanted to get to know other ladies) without any reason as to why this just "wasn't working" (i.e., his penis just wasn't having any of it).

To say that the rug had been pulled under me is an understatement. However, I had no problem validating myself in dating other guys quickly thereafter. But dating disasters alone weren't enough for me to warrant the blog. This came later on, when in a moment of weakness and tears, I called my ex and begged him to take me back (after he had flown to see me during Thanksgiving and I was all, thanks, but no thanks I will not be getting back together with you). It was then when he said sure, then backed out, then said yes again (all in a one and a half hour conversation), and I said, um, no thanks. I will not have this flip-flopping going around. So that was that.

A week later, I received an e-mail where he assessed my character of being a stupid slut (because I admitted I had been on one date with a guy and he kissed me. Just that). Then the blog began as a tongue-in-cheek categorization. I mean, if I'm going to be a slut, I'm going to be an educated one, right? So, yeah, that's about it. That's why this blog exists. That and I needed a safe, anonymous place in a corner of the internet where no one would recognize who I am. I also didn't want my ex to know anything about my life.

And now? I'd say writing and time have made me ok again, though I'm still confused. Aren't we all?

On Dead-End Relationships (loose definition of relationships being used here)

2013-06-20T12:10:00.002-06:00

It's happened to all of us, to the best of us. We tell ourselves that if we hang around enough a non-committal guy, he will want a relationship with us (even if he told us that he's not looking for anything serious). There are varying degrees of this scenario, maybe the guy we're into just got out of a long-term relationship, isn't that into us, maybe he's just a womanizing jerk who operates under full transparency, he was abducted by aliens, his mother didn't love him enough, his mother loved him too much, or [insert worthless excuse here]. I've dated --loose definition-- all of them (and in some cases, I've been a jerk too --it's not just guys who are capable of this).

Any time I started seeing any variation of this guy, it started relatively the same. Sometimes I didn't even like the guys so much. Though everything started on my terms and I was determined to be a casual dater (ha), my imagination kept over-processing every moment and projecting it into seeing myself married to these guys who just wanted to get laid (double ha, something they're still waiting on from me). However, once the innate desire to mold a man into what I wanted him to be and perhaps a need of validation through someone else kicked in, I always found myself investing myself far too much in what I knew were dead-end relationships. I knew I should cut my losses and leave, but the feeling that there might be something else down the road never really let me go as quickly as I should have.

Why is it that we get so attached to people who, for some reason or other, aren't for us? Why do we convince ourselves that we can change someone else's mind? I mean, I know we're pretty fabulous people, but sticking around when someone clearly doesn't want to give us what we want (even if we lie to ourselves saying that we want something casual --been there, done that) isn't adding much to our sense of self-worth (and preservation --it's the survival of the least emotionally-invested out there). And, hey, dating's a numbers game. Sometimes you're going to want to be with people who aren't really looking for your kind of wonderful. Other times people are going to want to date you when you aren't quite feeling it. However, once in a blue moon, you are going to want to date someone who is looking for your kind of wonderful. And that's just, well, magic (and sparkles, rainbows, and whatever Taylor Swift sings about).

Hi Chris Pine! What do you mean you don't want me to get hurt?
Of course I want something completely casual! I mean, it's not like I'm planning our wedding, naming our unborn children or imagining how you'd look when we're both old. I haven't done any of that at all. P.S. Do you think Andrea is a nice girl name? Why? NO REASON.

Knowing what I know now, there's no better feeling than someone telling you they want to be with just you from the get-go when you also want to be with them. Even then, I've jumped into my fair share of short-term insanity couplings. The reason why I even got into these dead-end flirtationships was because I craved the thrill of the unknown (but that gets old pretty quickly when you find out he's dating like twenty other girls, too). Call me old-fashioned, but when you're looking for someone to share your life with (and not just fill up a void) I'd rather have someone who wants to be on my team, rather than someone I begged, convinced and bargained for him to be on my team despite his many reservations (and bullshit excuses).

Birthdays

2013-06-14T13:17:00.002-06:00

Sometimes it feels like I'm drowning.

I'm turning a year closer to thirty next week. This particular birthday only goes on to remind me of those things I have not yet achieved in my life, things that I had set to the "by the time I'm thirty" timetable. Now I'm lucky if I manage to not be homeless by the time I'm thirty.

I would love to be on a path where I could build a career, but instead took on a job I am overqualified for. Now, I'm stuck at a thankless job that pays more than minimum wage, but not nearly as much as someone with a MA degree and experience in writing would require. Then there's my teaching job, which I love, but sucks out all the energy out of me. With the economy doing as badly as it has been recently and my student loans crippling my soul, how am I ever supposed to "make it"? I try not to lose faith, I try not to succumb to the depression I keep feeling hovering over me.

How much longer of this will I be able to take?

How many more resumes am I going to have to send out?

Turning into a (Wedding Planning) Monster

2013-06-13T11:20:00.002-06:00

I've become one of those girls, the ones who can only articulate opinions about their upcoming nuptials. I insist that this has not been a voluntary change, and that if given the option, I would love to talk about things that do not include centerpieces, tables, chairs, venues, flowers, and wedding favors. But I can't. It's just impossible.

Everywhere I look, I'm reminded of wedding planning (my mother's incessant texts aren't helping, either) and the internet is a rabbit hole of wedding options. Wedding blogs are my new thing, apparently. As in, blogs that cover weddings and feature pictures of happy couples.

Sigh.

I spent two hours last night painting a groom peg doll for our cake topper. You know what I could have been doing instead? Sleeping.

I am not fit for social contact anymore (even less than I previously was).

Wedding planning: 8
Me: 0

Loving Texts from my Mother

2013-06-11T09:54:00.003-06:00

It was 7 in the AM; I had just woken up because I was so tired I didn't wake up at my customary 6 AM to work out (I do it for the wedding dress). I got three texts messages from my mother. These were not:

Good morning.
I love you.
Have a great day.

In fact, these texts demanded to know if I had already bought the things she said at 7 PM last night I should go buy. For the wedding.

Gee, mom, I'm sorry I had to go to sleep early after seeing my boyfriend because I have to wake up early in order to, well, I don't know... GO TO WORK?

I know I should be doing wedding stuff, but between working, working out, and dealing with my puppy, something's got to give (I've also been applying to jobs everywhere).

Sigh.

As of now, the score stands:

Wedding Planning: 7

Me: 0

Wedding Planning and Keeping Score

2013-06-10T09:23:00.004-06:00

We set a date for the wedding. And by we, I mean my boyfriend (fiance? I don't know how this works if I don't have an actual ring on my finger at the moment due to budgetary reasons) suggested it and I shrugged and said, "Okay. Let me ask my mom if that sounds like a plan."

Then, I called and I asked her.

And that was that. For a whole week.

During that week, I went to work, did my laundry, and pushed the idea of wedding bells from my mind. Even if there was a date, it just didn't feel that real. A week later, my very nervous boyfriend asked my parents for their blessing (belatedly, which added to his already mounting nerves).

After the nerve-wracking conversation (on my end, anyway, everyone else was super happy and having a grand ol' time), the wedding planning officially started. I was excited, my boyfriend was excited, and our parents were super excited. Adding to that excitement was the fact that my dread about my mom taking the reins of the wedding planning didn't come to life (at least not right that moment).

Lulled into a false sense of security, I started designing the invitations, created a secret board on pinterest, and did all of the things that one is supposed to do when planning a wedding (roaming the internet for wedding blogs and weddinspiration). Also, I drove my boyfriend insane with wedding questions (side note: he's doing remarkably well and humors me to no end. Poor unfortunate soul).

Isn't this pretty, though?

In one week, I'd had a few hour-long conversations with my mother about the wedding planning. Although our tastes are as aligned and together as Lindsay Lohan and sobriety, I could tell she was biting her tongue (unlike last time she and I attempted to plan a wedding) and was all about what I wanted. This cooperation lasted one whole week (new record!).

Then she sent me a set of pictures of things she'd already bought and had not consulted me on. She bought sparkly notebooks and put wedding stickers on them. Sparkly notebooks. About forty of them. Now, I'm not opposed to sparkle. I love sparkle. However, sparkle has no place in a rustic outdoor wedding. So I called her to ask about this, and, as it turns out, one of her sisters was the instigator behind this purchase. One thing about my family: once her sisters get involved everything tends to spiral out of control.

While we were talking and I was trying to explain my vision and why the sparkly notebooks with wedding themed stickers weren't a good idea (so tacky, imo), her sister kept interrupting and saying my ideas were stupid. At which point I hung up and started to cry (right in front of my boyfriend). Way. To. Go. Well played, wedding planning, well played.

Wedding Planning: 1
Me: 0

After a week of not talking to my mother (she responds well to the silent treatment; she gives it often enough to people anyhow), we've gone to a better place. And by better I mean I don't stress out about most of the details and let her have some of her way. In other words, I've come to the realization that I can't control her or turn her off. My mom will be my mom. So what if she just bought a dress that photographs eerily like ivory, even though she swears its champagne? So what?

Wedding Planning: 2
Me: 0

And so what if one of my extended family members, someone who I love, is being snarky and offering (and by offering I mean pushing) advice that I really did not ask for? Plus, what do I care if this person referred to my wedding as a backyard wedding (slap.in.the.face)?

Wedding Planning: 4 (this deserves +2)
Me: 0

So what if the guest list is at almost at 150 at the moment? I mean, my cutoff was 100, but I can't cut anyone at this point, especially since my boyfriend's parents are paying for food.

Wedding Planning: 5
Me: 0

You know, wedding planning should be fun. It just hasn't been my experience thus far.

At least it's going smoother than the first time I tried to plan a wedding (aka, the wedding that never was because my ex broke up with me over the phone and called me a stupid slut months later).

That is all.

UPDATE: My mother keeps calling me every single day while I'm at work, asks what I'm doing (quick answer: working), and demands I do wedding planning stuff (I have no time for this during the work week). I now have the to-do list from hell.

Wedding Planning: 6
Me: 0

Navel Gazing, et al.

2013-05-22T12:52:00.001-06:00

My best friend from high school got married this weekend. It occurred to me, while we were all standing in the courthouse, that our fourteen year old selves could have never predicted how everything would unfold. I suspect fourteen year old me would have been disappointed in how my life has turned out. Then again, fourteen year old me didn't know the first thing about life. Mid twenties me doesn't know, either. The difference is that mid twenties me knows she doesn't know anything, while fourteen year old me thought she had everything figured out.

This makes me wonder, what will mid thirties me's life look like? Will I have a better job, paid off all my crippling debts and have started a family? In a time where we all seem to be overqualified, under-payed and at times unemployed, what does the future hold for us millenials? If the baby boomers can't retire due to economic reasons, the economy keeps going to shit, and the rest of us are performing in menial jobs because we have to "pay our dues" without regards to education level achieved, what does the future look like for us?

Now, there's a lot of speculation lately of how the millenial generation is a self-absorbed vacuum of nothingness. If we were judging based on instagram and facebook accounts alone, I would be inclined to agree that my age group has perfected the art of navel-gazing. However, I believe the act of navel-gazing is one that has happened across the board in previous young working generations. It just so happens that technology and "putting everything out there" in order to connect in a disconnected society has become more and more accessible with technological tools (i.e., smartphones, laptops, tablets). I, for one, can say that no matter how seemingly self-absorbed these internet personas seem to be, most of my peers are hardworking, bright individuals that somewhat differ from the avatar they create online.

However, at times it seems like everything is just not uphill, but vertical from here on. I've been working very hard all my life to get to a financially secure point in my career. I have taken jobs and internships that would allow me to climb to a respectable point in my career. So far, it looks like financial independence, getting out of student loan debt is out of my reach, no matter how hard I work.

Sometimes I look back and wish I hadn't taken out student loans. I only took them for my graduate degree because it seemed like a worthy investment at the time. After all, education is something you invest in wholeheartedly with the promise of a better future and more opportunities coming your way. Alas, for now, I just sit in my tiny work space dreaming of new things to come, better opportunities and trying to exhaust all and any possibilities.

I am exhausted, but hopefully mid thirties me will have a better life for this exhaustion and sacrifice I am currently going through. After all, if my best friend from high school took the marriage step into adulthood, that means we're all moving towards achieving some kind of adulthood in the midst of an economic recession.

Word's Out

2013-05-13T14:31:00.003-06:00

I told my mother about the general wedding plans and the world didn't implode.

Ok, so I'm kind of lying. I wasn't the one who broke the news to my mom. It was my dad. I expected her to call in high spirits within half an hour of me talking to my dad, but instead all I got was a Facebook message saying "So, when's the wedding? LOL."

I don't know what scares me more, the fact that my mother seems eerily up to date with technology, or that she's acting very cool about the entire nuptial situation. I mean, she hasn't even told her sisters about it. And I would know. My cousins would have called/texted/IMed/Facebooked me by now (and if not them, their wives would've).

Needless to say, I was freaking out about having to tell my parents. It's not like they would oppose the union, since they like my boyfriend so damn much (I'm pretty sure they want to adopt him). However, this is not my first time around an engagement, or even a sort-of engagement. Last time I dropped this kind of information on them, they wasted thousands of non-refundable dollars.

Thus, I just didn't feel all that comfortable announcing, "You know that time I was getting married and then I didn't get married, so I told you guys I would never, ever get married? Well, about that... My boyfriend and I are planning on getting married sooner rather than later." Awesome, right? Well, I'm sure that's the subtext of what my parents must feel at this point.

Then again, they seem surprisingly calm about this. Only time will tell. God, please don't let this turn into a circus.

Just in Time for Mother's Day

2013-05-10T13:50:00.002-06:00

We're getting married. Maybe. I mean, the plans are definitely there (and by there I don't mean just in my head). We're not officially engaged, which I guess makes us engaged to be engaged (or pre-engaged, as one of my friends so lovingly calls this state).

I'm developing a headache just trying to figure out the correct term for this stage in our relationship.

My boyfriend is telling his parents this weekend. I haven't even decided if telling my parents would be a wise idea at this point, particularly, my mother. I could theoretically tell my dad and make him swear he will keep the secret. Theoretically, because my mother has the power to attain information that the CIA and the FBI don't have combined (also, the power to break down a man). I am strangely proud and terrified of being her daughter.

My mother has been constantly pushing the marriage issue the past few years. Every guy I date is suddenly on her watch list for future husband. I just ignore her comments, and promise her that I will never get married. She really loves when I do that.

Reasons why I am hesitant to tell my mother about the nuptials:

As of today and the foreseeable next few months, I have no ring. And this is not a good thing for my traditional mother. She will probably hound my poor boyfriend and insist he take one of the rings she's offering to give him (from her jewelry collection).
I want a small, 30 people maximum wedding. She will try to make it into a Hollywood-worthy production, disregard any if all of my input of taste, insist it be in the church, and spend thousands of dollars that I don't have. I don't care for some of my extended family (for valid reasons). She will invite all of the extended family (more than 50 people, by my last count).
I'm shy. She will broadcast the news even before I have a ring on my finger and decide to tell people about it.

More and more, I panic about losing sight of what a wedding is truly about. It's not about a party, it's about choosing a day to promise another person that I'll be a part of their team, and that he'll be a part of mine. I don't want the real reason for marriage to get lost in the shuffle of planning, as it does for many of my peers.

In a perfect world, my mother would not try to micromanage weddings. Yet, here I am typing these things into a blog as I struggle to make my choice in telling my parents about this exciting development in our lives. I worry that the stress caused by planning the previous wedding will somehow manifest itself in this new one, and that the results will yield being broken up with. Again. This makes me a bit anxious, and it has nothing to do with telling my mother. I think telling my mother makes things real, and I'm very afraid of things being real because that means I can get hurt again.

But getting back to the matter at hand, telling my mother about our plans is still a complicated issue for me. My boyfriend keeps telling me there's an ocean between me and her micromanaging glory. Though technically true, technology has shortened that gap significantly. Also, she can book a flight to "help" me plan a wedding because she has the summer off.

The masochist in me wonders how she'll react to the news. Will she go into MomZilla mode? Will she be stunned into silence and process the information for weeks on end? Will she faint? Do I have to tell her to sit down first? Will she ask me if I'm pregnant? Will she start harassing me? Will she suggest an elopement?

I guess it's just as well that this weekend is Mother's Day. We shall see.

Disappointing my Mother: One Dream at a Time

2013-04-28T00:30:00.000-06:00

I wish I could say that the following types of conversations between me and my mother don't happen often. But they occur more often than I would care to admit.

"So you broke up with [insert name of awesome current boyfriend here] because [insert name of pitiful ex-fiance here] bought you a gigantic diamond ring," my mother accusingly yelled from the other side of the phone.

"Wait, what?" I asked.

This was all new to me. Last I checked, I was still in a stable relationship with my current boyfriend.

"In my dream. Last night," she explained, as if that cleared everything up. "You know, the dream I had last night about you."

"Oh. So?" I asked, looking at my computer screen.

"[insert name of pitiful ex-fiance here] bought you a big rose gold diamond ring and you broke up with [insert name of awesome current boyfriend here] because of it. I was livid. LIVID! How dare you break up with [insert name of awesome current boyfriend here] because of some diamond?! I thought, 'this slut, how dare she shame me that way, after all the bad things that [insert name of pitiful ex-fiance here]?'"

"Um, mom?" I asked, while my query went unrecognized.

"And then, you had the gall to parade that filthy ring around, like it was some prize. Like that asshole is anything anyone would want to take back after the way he treated you. I cannot believe that you took him back after everything he did, and after finding someone so nice, [insert name of awesome current boyfriend here]. I woke up angry at you."

"Mom, you do know I have no control over what you dream, right?" I asked, as she kept rattling off animatedly at me.

"So then I turned to my coworker and loudly said '[insert name of pitiful ex-fiance here] flew to [insert state I'm living in at the moment] and gave my daughter an enormous diamond ring' so that [insert name of pitiful ex-fiance here]'s current girlfriend could hear it."

"What's happening? I'm confused," I asked, not being able to follow her train of thought.

"In my dream. I'm still talking about my dream."

"I see. Mom, first off, the chances of your dream happening are slim to none. Secondly, there's no diamond big enough that would make me leave [insert name of awesome current boyfriend here] for [insert name of pitiful ex-fiance here]."

"Thank God. Don't leave [insert name of awesome current boyfriend here]."

"Ok, mom, I promise," I replied, knowing there was no use arguing about the fact that her mind conjured this dream, not mine.

"I'm still mad because of the dream. I even told your dad about it. I could not believe you would do that to me."

Ladies and gentlemen, this just goes to show that I have mastered disappointing my mother even in her dreams.

Reflections on Starting Over

2013-04-27T10:45:00.001-06:00

Starting over in the dating world after a soul-crushing failure is both exhilarating and terrifying. Once you decide to start dating again, there's a sense of newness that excites the most skeptical of hearts. After this new relationship smell fades a a bit, doubts and frustrations surface.

When I first started dating after the wedding that never was, I was excited at the prospect of meeting new guys who represented potential life partners. At this point in my life, I was looking for someone who could be my best friend and partner in life, someone who wouldn't bail out when things got rough. Most of all, I was looking for someone who wouldn't call me a stupid slut in the middle of an argument.

After settling down into the confusing dating world, a world that was foreign to me after six years of monogamy, I was frustrated with the way things were unfolding. I've never been good at being patient, and add a dose of Failed Relationship PTSD to that character flaw... Then you have a recipe for disaster.

Looking back, I realize that most of my frustrations stemmed from the fact that the guys I was dating were not really relationship material and because I expected the next guy I dated pick up right where my big relationship left off. That kind of pressure is both unrealistic and crippling to dating.

The truth is that once you're in a relationship for multiple years for one person, you start forgetting how things were at the beginning, wonderful, but not necessarily deep. If that relationship ends, like it did for me, you miss the depth and the things that made you feel cared for as half of a couple. Expecting someone new to pick up where the other relationship left off is unfair. Depth in a relationship can only be cultivated with spending time together, and actually caring for one another.

For someone who likes to go into life from zero to sixty in three seconds, this process was one of the hardest things to realize. I can now say that after a year in my current relationship, I am in a better place depth-wise than I ever was in my previous relationship. I guess that's the thing I've realized, that you can achieve different levels of depth with each person you date, but it still takes time and willingness to start over with someone new.

I Want Instantaneous Results (Have I Been Watching Too Many Infomercials?)

2013-04-16T23:05:00.000-06:00

If my entrance into life is any indication of my personality, it'd be that I'm impatient and I'm in a hurry to get wherever I want to be, regardless readiness or maturity. And you know what? That's absolutely and completely right. I was born two whole months before my mother's due date, possibly because I couldn't wait to face the world outside my mother's uterus.

I don't remember much about that time, but I could imagine I felt bitter disappointment at the mess I was once so eager to embrace. A medium-rare of a baby, I spent a month tubed up in an incubator. If baby pictures are any indication, I looked like a wrinkly rat with patches of hair (a sight only my parents could love; then again, I question this).

There I was, out in the world, tubed up to a machine because I couldn't breathe on my own. Metaphorically, things did not get better. Thankfully, I did not need tubing to breathe for the rest of my life.

I admit that one of my biggest shortcomings is impatience. I want things to happen, and I want them to happen yesterday. When I decide to go after something, I dive into the metaphorical waters with a quick prayer, and once I'm in I start wondering if I can even swim at all.

I don't just want to do any kind of swimming, mind you, I want to be the Michael Phelps/Ryan Lochte type swimmer and just excel at everything I do. Instantly.

Sometimes I get tired of swimming because I can't see the finish line, the shore, or any milestone that lets me know how far I've gotten or how close I am to getting what I want. That's exactly where I am at my current job at the moment. I've been with the company for about a year, am vastly overqualified with my master's degree, and I am struggling to pay the bills on a constant basis (so much so, that I have a second job teaching at the local university).

Though I try to be optimistic every day and go in with a fresh attitude, I am faced with people above me who scoff at me because of my youth and gender. Misogyny is alive and well in this small city of the Southwest.

What's even more impressive than the regressive male attitude at my job is the particular male ability of whining and complaining their way into having people feel sorry for them. I hear, "Oh, poor [insert name of male idiot here], he's so swamped. His job is so tough." I never seem to hear that about a female colleague, no matter how much larger her workload is.

When you combine up this misogynistic attitude, a blatant disregard for innovation (in a technological company, no less), and a distrust for the abilities I went to graduate school to acquire, you get a recipe for impatience. I feel ready to burst out of the metaphorical womb.

However, if there's something that life has taught me, it's crippling self-doubt. What if what I am so desperate to attain is not that great? What if I need help? What if I'm not ready, and it's a repeat of my birth?

Sometimes, the worst enemy is the one in your head.

I'll continue to exercise a semblance of patience for now, but the first chance I get to leap, I'll jump and ask questions later.

Here We Go Again

2013-03-27T13:17:00.003-06:00

I was almost married once.

I started planning a wedding once, which means I was thrust into the world of wedding blogs and all their wonderful and sparkly splendor.

And then I wasn't getting married anymore.

It was like free-falling through a rabbit hole of sorts. Everyone around me turned on their concerned faces and all I wanted to do was run away from my problems.

Then I started dating again. And that was a shitstorm of nothingness. Nothing made sense.

I was Alice in a wonderland of douches. Douches, douches everywhere.

Just when I decided that I didn't want to date again, I started dating my current boyfriend. One year later, when I'm settling into the idea of being in a relationship I still have failed relationship PTSD moments.

Now, I don't know if it's because I'm still arguably going through my quarter-life crisis, or if it's just because I'm so good at wanting to run, but I'm terrified. I'm also, to my surprise, genuinely happy and excited about a future with this man.

We've come to the point of talking about marriage and the big picture kind of future. We're not engaged or planning a wedding at the moment, but we're having deeper and more significant conversations about building a life together. Needless to say, these conversations weren't a part of my past relationship, pre or post engagement.

Are these talks terrifying? Yes, absolutely. However, they're also comforting on a level I'd never expected. So even when these doubts crop up, I feel confident that I am in a partnership that works, instead of two companies trying to merge unsuccessfully.

As a bonus, because these marriage talks are happening, I feel slightly justified in cruising wedding websites again, even if I don't want a wedding (because being educated in this day and age means an insane amount of student loan payments).

I Like Pretty (Wedding) Stuff

2013-02-21T23:40:00.001-07:00

I recently received an e-mail from Glamour promising tips on how to look better in pictures. I clicked on it. I mean, who doesn't want to learn tricks to look better in pictures? Right?

Wrong. The article was geared toward the newly engaged. Cue eye-roll.

Here I was, reading an article that just highlighted the facts that:

You only have to worry about pictures being taken of you when you have a ring on your finger.
I am not currently wearing a ring on my finger (ergo I don't deserve to learn tricks to look better in pictures).

So I read the article even though I have an empty finger, and proceeded to click on a link to other articles and slideshows featuring wedding dresses (and pink... PINK wedding dresses are gorgeous). Cue double eye-roll. I think I may be catching wedding fever (again).

See, the thing is that I spent so much time repressing my wedding fever in my previous relationship, that when me and my ex got engaged, I no longer had to pretend to not be fascinated by weddings. I could browse through every wedding blog known to man and not be seen as a desperate, clingy chick.

I never became a bridezilla because my mother and ex soon took control of the wedding planning, but I was still allowed to look at wedding stuff without my internal judge kicking in and saying, "Oh, sweetie, you're not even engaged."

When that sad excuse of a relationship crashed and burned magnificently, I had no desire whatsoever to look at wedding stuff. I didn't even want to deal with my already purchased wedding dress, shoes, and the rest of my attire. I just didn't want the words engagement or wedding to ever come in contact with my vocabulary ever again. Then reality slaps you and brings about emotions you can't quite explain.

You'd think a failed attempt at walking down the aisle to the wrong man would damper my wedding thoughts. You'd think that, but because my thoughts so often defy logic and rational explanations, you'd be wrong. Oh so wrong.

I find it hard to not judge myself on this one. On the one hand, I understand that there's nothing fundamentally wrong with admiring pretty things. On the other hand, I think it's not classy to be looking at wedding stuff when plans of a wedding are not even a speck in my horizon, if it ever comes to that again.

One of my dearest friends says that it's ok that I look at this stuff because it means I'm happy in the relationship, and at least I'm not secretly pinning it to a Pinterest board (this is why I don't have Pinterest, people).

So, yes, I'll continue to look, but I also hope to keep myself in check and not devolve into some sad girl who tries to prod her boyfriend to propose. Because that wouldn't be fun for either one of us.

Things You Buy When You're A Slut Like Me

2012-11-13T20:44:00.004-07:00

I just spent $18 on a panty.

Correction: I just spent $18.50 + tax on a sequined, overwhelmingly sparkly panty that my boyfriend is not likely to even notice or care about (not that I bought it for his enjoyment, but barring running down the street in my panty, who else is going to see it but me?). On second thought, I bet he's not even going to be surprised by the sparkle. He's just going to go, "yeah, looks about right," or, "yep, that fits all I know about you so far." Whatever.

I also followed the aforementioned purchase with a hot pink bra, and then used the coupon I did have for a free panty at Victoria’s Secret and selected a hot pink one. You know, because I hate pink so much.

See, that’s how they get you. The coupons from hell Victoria’s Secret mailed me and I so innocently believed I would just use the free panty one. I went into the store with every intention of grabbing my free panty and leaving unscathed. But then, I saw the light shining off the limited edition sparkly panty, it called out to me, I tried to resist its allure, but we all knew it was a lost cause. It was pretty, sparkly and had a lace back. I didn’t stand a chance. It was too much sparkle...

Actual closeup of the panty. How could I resist this?

Now every time I wear my sparkly panty, my v-area (vagina included, of course) is going to resemble a disco ball. Well played, Victoria’s Secret, well played.

Slut-o-ween

2012-10-20T13:38:00.001-06:00

I'm a slut. You know it (possibly because of the blog's title). I know it. My ex-fiancé made sure everyone knows it. So, yes, at least we're all on the same page on that matter.

Enter: Halloween. Yes, halloween, the one time a year where all of us sluts (and by all of us I mean everyone who has ovaries, obviously) are free to let our slut flag fly by dressing in costumes that usually have the word "sexy" or "sassy" in front of them for marketing purposes (let's be real, slutty is all they mean by those two qualifiers; that or, "hey, I can almost see your vag and nipples, thanks!").

I've found myself completely and utterly excited for this Halloween. Chalk it up to not having a proper childhood (the fact that my mother thought springing for costumes was a waste of money) or being with someone who didn't like going out (at all) or dressing for Halloween for six years. I'm an adult, and I'm excited about Halloween, end of story.

My quest to find this year's costumes (yes, there is more than one) began in July. If you have ovaries and are above a certain age (usually ten), you can sympathize with my conundrum: I've seen more modest attire in Victoria's Secret. And, because I'm a slut, and because I think Halloween is all about dressing up as someone that you are not, being a slutty [insert any costume here, really, ANY] just didn't appeal to me.

I briefly considered going as the eleventh doctor (God bless Matt Smith) from Dr. Who, but I didn't want to spend all night explaining to people who I was supposed to be, and why I am a woman dressing as a male character. It's too confusing for people. It's just not my place to make their brain hurt. I'm nice that way.

For the sake of anonymity, and covering most of my bases, I'm not about to disclose my three costume choices (you can't be too careful on the internet), but I will say that although one of them is very skintight, it covers every inch of my body. So that's a win in my book. The other two are harmless. While I could have a free slut pass for Halloween, I choose not to use it because it perpetuates a double-standard for women.

"Hey women, you have ovaries, you can dress like sluts for Halloween, we boys like it when you do that, but remember, you can't actually act like sluts. And days where it's not halloween, go back to not dressing like sluts and not being sluts."

But, hey, in a world where Mitt Romney is a candidate for president, we have to count the small victories, right?

Wanting, Needing

2012-09-03T14:18:00.001-06:00

I consider myself a smart, independent woman. I know that I can be alone, and that I can be perfectly happy doing so. The older I get, however, I become more accepting of vulnerability and want the trappings of a life shared with someone else. Perhaps this is a byproduct of being so close to getting married to the person I thought was the One, an occurrence in which I allowed myself to be caught up in the idea of it all and finally relaxed enough to contemplate a real, honest to God future with another human being.

The fact that this ended going up in flames in a spectacular fashion apparently doesn't faze this part of my psyche. I still want to share my life with the right person, someone who will be there day in and day out for me. I need and want someone whose arms I can just collapse to after a rough day at work, someone who will take care of me while I'm sick, and someone who'll understand my need to see my friends. I want someone who'll be a good father to our children, who won't flinch at the thought of helping me change diapers, taking them to school, or grocery shopping. I want someone who I can trust, someone who I can give my everything to and not wonder what they did with it all because he's as committed to us as I am. I don't want perfection, but I want a real partnership.

This needing and wanting scares the living daylights out of me because sometimes it seems like I want too much and am asking too much of another human being. I look at my parents, who've been married for almost 40 years and I think that it's a rare occurrence, a lottery of sorts. I look at them and I want that, and I'm scared that I will never get it because I don't deserve it.

I know life has a weird way of working itself out. I see the potential my now boyfriend has to be the person that I want. He fits most of my wants almost to a T, even if sometimes I wonder if that's true or if it's something that I want to see. Then I think about how independent he is, something I truly adore about him, but something that makes me worry that he'll never be able to fully share his life with me. I need someone to be there, with me, committed to the household day after day because it not only was his choice, but it feels like he should be there. I worry he won't choose me, just like my ex ended up taking back his word.

Days like today, where I'm plagued by the good memories of a previous relationship, memories of him taking care of me when I was sick, like I am today, and I find myself alone in my room typing because my boyfriend is out of town; I worry that I'm not strong enough to be the woman I believe myself to be. The woman I think I am and the woman who feels the need to type this are two completely different people, one is an ideal and the other one is broken.

Today I seek the strength to mend myself. Tomorrow I may get it.

It's the Little Things that Nag at Us

2012-08-28T08:35:00.002-06:00

In any relationship, seriously ANY, there are things that nag away at our core. These are the little things. Sometimes these little things gather up in our proverbial closet and we keep shoving them in until one day they just come tumbling out of it and we're left to face the mess we've ignored for so long.

Then again, if we address those little nuances, we're in for a life of nitpicking and fighting without actually looking at the bigger picture. All those little things that bother us so much are symptomatic of the deeper issues that we may have as individuals and the existing issues in the relationship.

In my case, at least, upon further inspection of these little things that nag me I found that they all came back to the same place: fear. I'm afraid of being vulnerable, afraid that I'm more into this relationship than my boyfriend, and afraid that I'll screw this up somehow.

I realize that this has seventy five percent to do with myself and my psyche. In fact, I don't think I have ever allowed myself to become so vulnerable in a relationship so quickly, and to feel that the other person is holding back emotionally for the sake of maintaining a semblance of control is unnerving. Of course, it's annoying because I've done that before and I know how and why it seems like a good option.

The real truth is that I feel unhinged, vulnerable, and out of control, which is why instead of blowing up at any single thing, I retreated into my mind in order to look for patterns. Once I found the glaringly obvious reason for these little speed bumps, I also realized that I cannot force anyone to come to the same conclusion I have, that perhaps part of my problem is that I need instant gratification and lack patience to see things through.

That doesn't mean, however, that I'm going to keep quiet forever. I can sort through the mess, find the pattern and work it out within myself, but that 25% that is the relationship also needs to be sorted out. That is just something that I can't do on my own.

We Need to Talk

2012-08-27T09:39:00.001-06:00

The talk.

Those two words carry a variety of connotations within the dating scenario. None of those are good. In fact, those are the two words that will inevitably make a man run to the hills like there's no tomorrow and he's being chased by a pack of wolves.

In this scenario, you are the pack of wolves, of course.

I, for one, hate the talk. I would much rather do as I have done in the past and ignore the situation all together because the idea of verbalizing what's going in my head makes me want to throw up (and head to the hills like I'm being chased by a pack of wolves).

Perhaps it's because I am not one for confrontation to the ones I care about, or perhaps it's because I'm afraid of the outcome of these so-called talks. In my current relationship, the talk has loomed over my head for a while now, and like Marie Antoinette, beheading is imminent, at the very least.

So, do I drink a bottle of wine and let the words come out as they may, or do I formulate an apologetic, yet direct and assertive, speech designed to explain the innermost workings of my troubled brain? I could keep quiet, but if past performance is any indicator of the success of that tactic, I'm in for a lot of trouble and heartache.

It seems to me that no matter what choice I take, I risk getting hurt. Then again, isn't that the nature of relationships?

Like any good composition teacher, I know that it's all in the rhetorical situation. I mean, I'm not going to drop this talk in the middle of a group hangout, or in the middle of other activities. The time and place has to be (not necessarily perfect) acceptable to have a conversation that will hopefully clarify the reality of the situation versus the mess that's going in my head.

Because the fact of the matter is that as much as I would like to, my boyfriend cannot read my mind, and I cannot divine his. Even more so, the more I try to imagine what's going on through that mind of his, my inner self-hater interjects with a few choice ideas on how I'm awful, and how he's probably re-thinking the whole relationship every single second of every single day.

I know that some of this is on me, and I, for one, am trying to sort the mess that's in my head and understand that reality does not match my thoughts, especially those self-hating ones laced with abandonment issues. Then again, once I finish having "the talk" with myself, I can start thinking of way of having "the talk" with him.

There are Dresses, and then There's THE Dress

2012-08-21T01:28:00.002-06:00

There are dresses that make you want to be a bride. This is one of them:

Hi, can I have this and get married tomorrow?
Thanks.

Of course, I'd just rather wear that dress to some fancy event if I'm not getting married to the right person. I mean, the right dress does not make the wrong person right.

Then there are men who make you want to be a bride. I think my current boyfriend fits the bill.

Also, I may be losing my mind (alongside my heart).

Wanting to Have it All... And Fried Chicken Strips

2012-08-21T01:26:00.002-06:00

I can't sleep. Maybe it's because I ate fried chicken strips late at night. Maybe it's because I'm worried I'll never be able to get a car. Maybe it's because I'm an idiot. Maybe it's because I have too many thoughts.

Seriously, though, the chicken strips are most of it.

Well, that and the fact that I told my boyfriend I was in love with him a month ago. Why would I do such a thing? Because I'm an idiot.

His response? He said he cared about me. Romantic, no? (I vote no)

THE END.

Only not quite. I'm freaking out. I've been freaking out and hiding my crazy for a month now. I don't know how much longer I can leash the crazy in.

Once he realizes the bag of crazy I carry around in me, it's over. That, or he's re-evaluating his priorities.

The crazy is motivated by the idea that, well, I really didn't set out to be in a relationship. You see, this guy pursued me. He wanted this. I wasn't sold on being in a relationship (hello, my track record dating after the breakup shows how much of a grey area I was used to). In fact, he was the only one of the guys I dated after the breakup (6 if you must know) that flat out wanted me to see no one else but him (and said so during our first date).

He won me over little by little until, well, I was a goner. Then I fucked things up and told him. Now I'm on the receiving end of static. Oh, fuck me.

Now, that is not to say he's a horrible boyfriend. Quite the opposite, actually. During the five months we've dated, he's always acted like he's in love with me. Yet, he doesn't say it. Then I play this game in my head, the "would you rather" game. I ask myself, "Would you rather have someone who says he loves you and doesn't act like it or someone who acts like it but doesn't say it?"

Then my bitchy self chimes in and declares that I shouldn't have to choose because I should have it all.

And I do. I do want to have it all. I want him to allow himself to be as vulnerable as I've allowed myself to be in this relationship because I've loved and lost, too, and because it would make me feel like we're on equal footing. I want him to want to be with me every day. I want him to choose to be with me over and over and over again.

Who knows? Maybe I do have those things I want but am not seeing them. Maybe I don't. How will I ever know? When do I cut my losses? Do I have to stop wanting to have it all?

Maybe if I stop wanting to have it all, I won't lose sight of what I have in the moment. The problem with wanting to have it all is that it's unrealistic and cruel for everyone. People can only give so much of themselves, and sometimes they're doing the best they can.

I know that I'm the impulsive one. I know that he's the calculated, calm one. Maybe that's a good thing. Maybe he can balance me out.

Lord knows premature "I love you"s are my specialty, and even when said back they are not guarantees of happily ever afters.

Until then, these chicken strips and my thoughts will keep me up because I'm an idiot with no self-control..