A Bit of Reality… ‘Aint Never Hurt Nobody

Me:  “I think I’m going to sell my SUV and get a Prius…”

[as i look across the couch to see his facial expression]


[he doesn’t look up from his laptop; his facial expression doesn’t change]

Ginge:  “I think we should start seeing other people…”

I just smirk.  I would never sell my SUV to buy a Prius unless absolutely necessary.  Not that I have anything against Prius’ (or Priuses?) in general, but they’re really just not my cup of tea to drive.   I just knew the suggestion would ruffle Ginge’s feathers, as it did.   Yet, he knew I was joking with my random comment.

What this got me thinking about, however, was, what if Ginge were to say to me truthfully and genuinely, “I think we should start seeing other people?”

I mean this comment stemmed from the jokiest of jokes, but it brought to my attention that in the past 14 months, this thought has never crossed my mind.  Am I naive?  Am I egotistical?  What the HECK am I?  I thought back to the time when I just met Ginge.  We had only gone on two, maybe three dates, and T-Diddy [mom] was asking about him over the phone.  I remember telling her:

“It’s weird.  I don’t have to guess about him.  He always calls, he always texts, he always follows through with plans… I don’t even have to wonder with him…”

What the HECK game did he play?  Well apparently a freakin’ good one.  He played the game in which you are an actual genuine person who says and does what he says he’s going to do, and treats a woman like she’s actually a human being.  I mean, really?  It’s not that hard.  But sadly, it’s out of the ordinary, and this is something I commented to T-Diddy.   She, of course, gave me her wonderful motherly advice, that I SHOULDN’T have to wonder and I SHOULDN’T ever worry if he’s going to call me again.

Which brings me to my current point.  At over a year I have NEVER wondered or worried about if Ginge was going to call again, or if he didn’t like me anymore.  He’s always made me feel like I’ve had him and I’ll never lose him.  But this one comment really got me thinking more than I usually do [I guess I don’t think that much?]… Have I made him feel similarly?

I feel like I’ve been screwed over so many freakin’ times over the past several years, that it’s been all about me… “does he like me?”  “is he treating me correctly?”  “is he making ME his number ONE priority?”  “does he love my family?”  “can he live without me?”  …blah blah blah… me, me, ME….

What about HIM?  Let’s not get me wrong… I’ve come to really love this guy to death.  But that silly comment just put this thought in my head…. what if he were to want to leave ME? [I mean who really would want to leave me?? But still…]   HELLO!!!! Get off your high horse, you ASS!  This is a two-way street!!    How have I never even considered that this wonderful, kind, handsome, completely fantastic man could ever do better?  [Well, better…?  No, he couldn’t…]  But my point being… I knew those silly words that came out of his mouth, “I think we should start seeing other people,” were completely nonsense, and joking around, but they really hit home.

If I had heard those words out of his mouth in truth, I’m not sure what I would do.  I know I’d probably be in shock… because apparently over the past 14 months, I’ve felt the most secure I’ve ever felt in a relationship before.  I guess all I can say here is that maybe i learned a bit about myself.   I’ve learned that I hope I’m doing all I can to make my man feel just as secure as I do.  And if I’m not, I sure as hell need to do a better job.  Thanks, Ginge… for being you.

‘Til we meet again… hopefully less than 3 months from now….


Gossip Girl

Some Random Thursday Notes…

I really hate when guys from Tinder say:  “why the hell are you on Tinder?” implying there must be something very wrong with me that they haven’t yet figured out, which makes me think there must be something very wrong with THEM…

“Why is anyone on Tinder??” is usually my response… which makes them realize they’re on Tinder as well, which is how they started talking to me in the first place.

Guys from OkCupid say “Tinder’s just for hookups…” which is when I say to them, “Some people say the same about OkCupid.”

Guys from match.com say “OkCupid and Tinder are for people who aren’t actually serious about finding someone to date.”

And when I ask why they think that, their response is “because you don’t have to PAY for those sites.”

Oh I’m sorry, I’d feel much more comfortable PAYING MONEY for my next boyfriend.  You’re right.  Let me weed out the dating sites based on how much they cost.

Guys who are on no dating sites at all say, “Why are you on those sites???”

“WHY NOT????” I obviously have not met my future husband at the library or at a bar… so whyyyyy the heck not?

In any case, I must somehow be oozing desperation?  My married co-worker who covers the LA territory texted me yesterday:

A:  “Are u on Facebook?”

Me:  “Yeah I am”

A:  “I was going to show u a buddy’s profile who I think you should meet.  6’5, blonde, athletic…36 or 37… sells advertising for a   reputable magazine… fun dude.”

Me:  “Besides the blonde, sounds good.”

So I checked him out, and gave A the go-ahead to send him my info.  I think he’s a little too good-looking for me.  But A assured me he knows what he’s doing, and he thinks we’d hit it off.  I don’t really mesh well with “pretty-boys” because I feel like they usually want “pretty-girls,” of which I am not.  I’m not the girliest of girls.  And it’s hard for me to pretend I am.  Not that I’d want to pretend I was…but you get the point.

In other news, I pulled up to an office yesterday for work, and put my scrub top on (I wear less clothing to drive between offices).  I got out of my car with my pants still pushed up to my knees like a gangsta, and as I walked towards the door they began to fall into place… one at a time.  So if you want to picture this… bright neon sneakers with a shirt half-on, tank top underneath, and one pant leg rolled up to the knee…with a huge bag over my shoulder.  There was no one around at this time, so I had plenty of time to fix myself before I reached the door.

So I thought…. a dude in a Mariner sitting in the parking lot rolls his window down as I’m walking by his car and shouts out “Hey!  Are you from Jersey?”

I jumped.  I didn’t see him there.  Damn, I need to get my plates changed.  I turn around to his open window.  He’s in blue Boston Scientific scrubs, so I felt immediately comforted.  One of my own.  I haven’t seen any device reps around since I’ve been out here.  Turns out he is originally from Long Island too, only a half an hour from where I grew up.  He moved out to the west coast with another large device company a couple of years ago.  We immediately had a friendly connection; he felt for me being such a newbie here, and he sold a spinal cord stimulator, which is a position I had applied for back east.  So we had a lot of common ground.  We exchanged cards.

I’m wondering if I may have been too friendly, because he has already texted me several times, and actually called me this morning while I was on a conference call.  I thought he’d be a great professional connection to have, but I’m not sure if he is seeing this connection as professional or personal.  And as awesome as he seemed, I’m not really into dating anyone in the same profession.  Sales people are such d-bags.

I guess that’s enough for my long-winded update of the day.  It’s Thursday.  Thank goodness…. I’m thirsty.


Gossip Girl

The Great Debate on Nude Underwear

Yesterday was a LONG day… which started with a five-hour trip to somewhere south of Baltimore at 7am, continued with training the entire staff of a surgical center, followed by a nap in a Wawa parking lot on the side of 95 N on my way back home, and ended with parking illegally outside my apartment at 9pm and collapsing on my couch.

Wait, scratch that… I forgot to collapse on my couch.  The Architect was out with friends, it’s Fourth of July week, and as I was getting home, he asked if I wanted to meet up with them.  In my current state of YOLO, and being that I’m moving across the country in less than four weeks (less.than.four.weeks), I took a quick shower and met them out at a local watering hole.  The Architect is the one who found my blog several weeks back and was initially not happy about it.  Then he dumped me (even though we weren’t dating).  He has since gotten over being mad about being in the blog, and began following the original one (which is basically gone, so here we are starting from scratch).  Since I’m moving, it’s taken the question of dating out of the equation, so we’ve continued to be friends.

So I’m sitting at the bar with the Architect, and his friend with always perfectly combed hair and more often than not wearing a three-piece suit, whom we will call Slick.  Architect asks if tonight is going to be included a blog post.

“No, it’s too boring… there’s nothing to blog about.”

Then comes the discussion on nude underwear.  Ever since I met the Architect I’ve known he’s been very passionate about hating nude underwear of any sort… He made this apparent at a birthday party at the beer garden last summer when someone’s nude thong was sticking out of their pants.  He thinks nude underwear is for grandmothers and has no place being on anyone else.  There has really been no arguing with him when it comes to the topic of what to wear under light articles of clothing, because his only response is:  “Just wear white!”

Apparently all men feel this way.   I’m not sure how the topic came up last night… probably when part of my nude bra was showing through an opening in the back of my WHITE shirt.  White shirts require NUDE bras.

“Yeah, I’m wearing a nude bra.  Get over it.”

“Why don’t you girls get it?  We all KNOW you’re wearing a bra under your shirt.  It’s no secret.  Just wear white, or red, or black or cheetah print, we don’t care… just not NUDE.”

Now Slick joins into the conversation:  “Nude bras are the WORST.  Just don’t wear clothes that require nude bras!”

Architect says, “Dude, girls aren’t going to stop wearing white.  They just need to wear a different color bra underneath.”

Now they’re debating back and forth with each other, arguing over whether the bra should be a different color no matter what kind of shirt, or if shirts that show colored bras should be eliminated altogether, and I’m basically out of the conversation besides to add… “It’s trashy to have a cheetah print bra sticking out of a white shirt.”

“Who says?”

“Everyone says.”

“No, just you girls say.”

Architect’s argument is that any other color besides nude should be worn under clothing.  Slick’s argument is that girls should stop wearing light colors altogether.  He stated that if men make a big enough of a stink about it, white shirts will basically become extinct in a few years.  Is this a real conversation?

I’m really not sure what the big deal about it is.  And I’m also kind of confused about the fact that these men feel so strongly against a certain color underwear.  Is this a global thing?  Or just local?  And no, we’re not going to stop wearing white shirts.

mike meyers

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