deal or no deal

Everyone should have a list of things we like to ever so fondly refer to as “deal-breakers.”

for example…

For those of you just joining us on this topic (WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN??), a “deal-breaker” is different than a “turn-off” in that a turn-off (ok, enough with the quotation marks.. I wasn’t even sure if I was using them right and they are getting in the way of my point) is something you can work around, learn to get used to, maybe even enjoy, while a deal-breaker is.. obviously, a dead end. You can’t get past it. It’s over before it has begun. A deal-breaker isn’t a game-changer. A deal-breaker is a game-ender.

For example:

I could be turned off by the fact that a guy drives a motorcycle (which I am. Motorcycles are loud and annoying and you can’t listen to music properly on them and no one looks good in that much leather minus maybe.. a cow) BUT I could learn to get over the whole motorcycle thing if it didn’t define said driver’s whole identity. If the bike was simply a component of this person, not a representation of their whole lifestyle, I could deal.

HOWEVER, It would be a deal-breaker if the owner of said motorcycle also thought he was in a biker gang (or actually WAS in a biker gang) and wore bandannas and had several gold teeth and constantly felt the need to light things on fire. Actually, now that I think about it.. bikers are a lot like land-locked pirates. And in case you were wondering being a pirate is also a deal-breaker. Except in the case of Johnny Depp. (there are exceptions to every rule)

In my opinion, everyone should have their own list of deal-breakers and if not …god, I hope you get some soon because its called STANDARDS and it will keep you from dating/marrying/etc etc just any old piece who happened to look your way twice. Tough love guys. Don’t just marry Jose from the liquor store because he smiles at you when you buy tequila. (Unless Jose from the liquor store is actually a good guy.. but I’m going to go out on a limb and say 90 percent of the Liquor Store Joses have a few skeletons (hopefully not real ones) that need to be kept in their own closets.. not yours.)

Mostly I guess, I think everyone, girls and guys included, should have some golden list of universal deal-breakers. Certain things about a significant other that make one go… hmmm, ok. GOODBYE. But there isn’t one. At least written. So, I have taken it upon myself, as the Moses of the 10 commandments of universal deal-breakers, to do just that. (of course, these are still just opinion… taken by God himself!!!

…Ok, dramatic sorry.. they are really just mine.)

(What should be) The Top 10 UNIVERSAL Deal-breakers

in ANY relationship in America.

…and maybe Europe

10. They suffocate and overdose you with ridiculous, bizarre and creepy pet names.

Under no circumstances at any time, any where, at ANY POINT are you to ever refer to yourself as Daddy. Or to call the guy you are with daddy. That’s f*cking weird. I’m not sorry about this. Your father.. is the guy you are RELATED TO. and to refer to the person you are potentially dating/hooking up with as such is entirely too close with an arkansas-keep-it-all-in-the-family-sick-creepy-shakespeare-reference. It makes me want to gag. It’s disturbing. Only Usher can potentially pull this off.. and let’s be real, the guy refers to himself as Usher. No last name. When you can say you have reached that caliber of fly, maybe we can talk. Until then, I’m going to call you by your real name.

Please also see: anything that combines baking and physical attributes (stud muffin, sweet cheeks), and pretty much any name that could also be confused as a title for your pet pomeranian that you dress up for every holiday occasion (boo-boo, cookie and button-nose.) ….Really guys? Do you want some tampons with that emasculation? And girls, he’s your boyfriend. Not your dog. Take a freaking bone from Matthew McConnahey and cut the Princess Sophia crap.

9. They cheated on their significant other to be with you.

So, you found someone really great! Congrats. They are laid-back and fun and easy on the eyes and have all the things that you are looking for (total fireworks). One small miniscule insignificant problem…. they are already attached. Hey! No sweat. They are totally willing to hook up with you on the side and MAYBE you even convinced them they should break-up with the OTHER GIRL/GUY and date you.

Score. High five!

…Ok, you’re an idiot. I don’t believe in the cheat once and get it out of your system thing. If you don’t realize you’re just the flavor of the week until something else bright and shiny and more flexible comes along, then maybe you deserve what’s coming for you. I guess there are exceptions to this.. but people who cheat don’t just happen to cheat. Yes.. They know what they’re doing. So, do yourself a favor and step away from the deal-breaking pretty person, and run for your life. You’ll thank me later.

8. Basic hygiene… not there.

Um hello!? I feel this is obvious. But apparently not. You want to impress the opposite sex? Take a FREAKING shower. Hey girls, it’s called a hair brush. Your bar hair from the night before? It’s been 10 hours and the back looks like something is nesting there. It’s not cute. You’re not on Gossip girl. You don’t look like a million bucks. You look and smell like a bottle of vodka. Get your shit together. And stop wearing your pajamas as day wear. No one wants to get down with a girl wearing hello kitty boxers as shorts to the grocery store. Why do you even own hello kitty boxers? There are deeper issues here.

And guys? Wearing that sweatshirt that has pizza stains on it from a week ago? That’s disgusting. That object in the basement of your house that’s white and groans when you put things in it? Yeah.. that’s called a washing machine! USE IT and things get clean. Like magic! Oh, and drowning yourself in Axe body spray never does quite the same job as a solid soap scrubbing in the shower….And yes, we can tell the difference.

I’m not asking for a obsessive compulsive flosser (in fact, that’s overkill. no one flosses THAT much.) But the basics, will keep someone around in the future. And ignoring these basics, will make you a deal-breaker fast. Repeat after me: mouth. wash.

7. Blackout is their middle name.

We all know the guy/girl who are regularly incapable of drinking without blacking out, getting kicked out of the bar, attempting fights with a large black bouncer (with karate skills no less), puke in the bushes and pee in a chair all while sobbing incoherently about how much they want onion rings from Red Robin (YUM). And to be that person on occasion, is completely acceptable if not totally entertaining for everyone around them. However, to be that person all the time? Hey, if you are reading this and thinking, “Haha! Dude, that’s so me every Friday! Sorry, I’m awesome.” One, you are not awesome. But I am going to guess you ARE single. No, blackout hook-ups do not count. And two, you probably don’t know this but I’m also going to guess 90% of the people around you make fun of you behind your back because of how much FUN you are. Newsflash: learn how to drink. Stop pissing yourself in public. Stop blacking out every.single.time.you consume alcohol.

AND if you ARE dating someone like this, why don’t you quit playing nanny and get yourself someone who doesn’t drool on themselves all weekend long and calls you by their ex’s name. You deserve to at least sleep in a bed with someone without the fear they are going to hurl on your pillow. But first draw a big penis on their forehead. They totally love stuff like that!

6.Two words: Chris. Brown.

For once, I don’t think I need to elaborate.

So deceiving with the puppy. So, so deceiving.

5. they’re constantly stirring some dramatic pot of shit.

They thrive in drama. Not necessarily their own, but it usually turns out that way. You seriously can’t have a conversation with this person without leaving feeling like you’re on the verge of getting in an argument.

How do you live like this?

Who needs all that drama?

This person needs a serious therapist, not a serious relationship.

And I don’t care how hot they are or what they are going to do some day for a living, if you are dating a drama queen/king get the hell out of there because 2/3 of the time they are going to be driving you completely insane.

And that is how male pattern baldness and wrinkles happen my friends.

See some wrinkles? Blame a dramatic person in your past relationships. Me? I’m going to look like freaking Halle Berry when I’m 80 because I make it a point to run away from dramatic situations unless they are completely unavoidable.

I’m going to look awesome.

Me.

Your crazy ex-girlfriend that you stayed with for 4 years? Yeah, you’ll be bald by 50. Sorry.

…you.

4. They are over-employed. Or under-employed.

This is going to be a slightly controversial subject.

Due to the economic failure that is our economy.. many, many people graduated college and moved back home with mom and dad. You really can’t knock them for this. It’s when someone has every intention of making moving back home a semi-permanent investment that you should be concerned. Also, if said person has no plans of future employment. And a terrible shopping and/or drug addiction.

On the other hand, getting involved with someone who has essentially zero free-time out of their job is also a pretty big deal-breaker. Believe me, I nanny for women who married the men with no free time and who are now their wives who never see them. I’ve been sitting for a lady for two years now and I have yet to EVER meet her husband. Does he even exist? Does she make him up? I see him in pictures and pretend he has an accent and does drug deals for the mob. And yeah, it’s a little sad. (that he’s never there.. not that I make up fake stories about him. That’s awesome.) But come on! She had to have known what she was getting herself into. You make your own bed. Now go sleep in it.

3. Brainless wonders.

There’s actually a clause in this particular deal-breaker. Sometimes, people can’t help how stupid they are. And sometimes, one idiot meets another and it’s beautiful and totally works out and they procreate to make more idiots and that is, ladies and gentlemen, how the Jersey Shore was born.

But if you aren’t an idiot.. And if you have to ask yourself if you are, there’s a Jersey marathon on today and shouldn’t you be watching that instead? If you aren’t an idiot, you shouldn’t settle for one. Your reasons could be limitless… but they’re so fun to look at! But they sometime say smart things! But they aren’t always like that! But they don’t act like that in front of me!.. Ok, yeah, they’re idiots and you are acting like one for making excuses for them.

Get a brain, grow a pair, and leave Ms. or Mr. dipstick back at the bar doing jager bombs off some equally retarded waitress’s cleavage.

Some clues you’re dating an idiot:

they cheated their way through college… and they still didn’t graduate in 4 years.

– they like totally like don’t understand what you are like talking about like all the time. teehee.

Wise up brainiac, drop the moron and get someone who can have a whole conversation with you without just talking about beer, boobs, or Bieber.

2. they always have to be right.

You’re dating a control freak. I bet that’s fun in the bedroom. Guess what? No one is right all the time. I’m only right like 94 percent of the time and I’m like really, really smart! Also, no one likes to be corrected oneverything right? So why are you putting up with this? Here’s a question the know-it-all’s in your life can get right. You’re breaking up with me? Yep! You are correct! Again! Congratulations! And peace out! Deuces! Sayanara! (japanese for goodbye.. but they already knew that)

And the number one thing that should be a deal-breaker in all of America and maybe in Europe?

They don’t make you happy. At the end of the day, who cares what they look like or what they do for a living or how much money they make or if they have terrible taste in music and hate dogs? If they make you happy, that’s it. That’s all you need. Point in case, either someone makes you content or they don’t. If they don’t.. why are you forcing this?

Listen, I’m by no means a love doctor. But it seems to me that the best kinds of relationships are the ones that keep it simple. That don’t complicate things with material and sociological issues. You can find deal-breaker after deal-breaker in someone but there should be only be really one thing that makes a relationship really work. And if someone makes you happy… then, what are you waiting for?

And now I want to watch The Notebook.

M

..”The simplest answer is usually the most correct one”

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On trying to be Superman…

You know, you can learn a lot about someone by asking them how they measure their own success.

Some pretty stereotypical answers may include:

  • money
  • power
  • fame
  • hot bitches…(and not just for rap stars anymore!)

And yes, I joke, but I have to wonder how many of you would agree with the above determinants of succeeding.

I always say I’ll know my own success in the future by how happy I am in the present. And being vague has kept me from a lot of disappointment because to be happy is such a undefined and fluid idea. If I’m happy right now with where I am, with what I am doing then who cares about some long term retardedly out of reach stretch goal in the future? Not me. Right?

It’s not that I’m not ambitious. Happiness includes doing well in a job and becoming wealthy, and having minions to meet my demands and endless admiring fans and hot men lining up the block for me. But that’s not the point. What’s my point??

Well I love a good metaphor (gosh, who doesn’t?) let’s give this one a spin:

I guess I see a lot of people around me killing themselves to be superman.

wearing this under your clothes does not help your case

Work hard now, reap the benefits later. It’s the American way. We want to rescue the world AND get the girl (or dude. whatever. roll with me on this one ok?) and we’ll be damned if we don’t do it. So we marry ourselves to things that will make that success story have a happy ending.

We’re married to our jobs.

We’re married to getting ahead.

Getting the grade.

Making the deal.

Building a foundation to stake our success on.

blahblahblah.

Don’t get me wrong, hard work ethic is definitely admirable. And I understand you have to work hard now to get where you want to go. But go on and ask yourself what you see success by. And then ask yourself if that success is going to make you happy. Because hey, I’m no expert on the matter but it seems to me that the most successful people in this world are those who were willing to work hard to save the day, but at the end of it know they are coming home to something. People who had people. And I don’t mean minions this time. I mean people who derived their success out of something more fluid. more undefined. Because you can be the most successful person in the world but if you don’t have people to share that success with.. all that money. that power. that fame…. isn’t shit. At least to me.

So if you’re killing yourself to be superman… go ahead! Save the day! Go climb that ladder of success. Go sign your life away. Do it in ink. Get a tattoo! But do it for the right reasons. Do it to get happiness…. Whatever you may find that happiness in.

And remember this. Even Superman had Lois Lane. And when it came down to who he was going to save first, there was never any question as to who that would be. Your career isn’t going to be waiting for you on the ground when you’re done playing a superhero. And if you’re up there long enough, you could come down and find out that your own version of Lois Lane.. got tired of waiting.

So to all my supermen out there–

Make it a successful (happy) Friday.

M

Where’s a dartboard when you need one

Today’s theme:

Freaking. Out.

Here is a list:

(explaining why)

(because I like lists)

(!!!!!!)

1. I can’t move. My ankle has reduced me to a crawling hobbling pathetic excuse of a mobile being and if I didn’t spend so much time alone.. I would be embarrassed (we will touch on this more in point 2). I hate crutches because they are closer to javelins in terms of helpfulness than actual assistance to my cause. I genuinally fear for stranger’s limbs around me when I use them. So instead of potentially injuring others, I attempted to do this awkward walk jump hop thing today at the supermarket while people chased me down (3 people actually) asking me if I would like a wheel chair or a motorized scooter. I momentarily considered the motorized scooter mobile but only because I really like to practice for when I am 80 and can run people down without any kind of sympathetic response. But I am not 80 yet, and those things only go like 2 miles per hour and I would really feel terrible running anyone down UNLESS they deserved it. And I can’t think of a good reason for someone to be deserving enough to be run down by a motorized scooter at a supermarket at 2 o’clock on a Tuesday. So alas, I declined. And I also spent the majority of the day at home. On my couch. Which is not that unusual, except today I didn’t really have a choice.

2. Dylan left for Indiana today and won’t be back until Friday. That’s 3 whole days BY MYSELF. And honestly guys that’s just really not ok. I am now not only immobile.. I am immobile and in solitary confinement. People are tortured in deserts in government facilities in these conditions. Granted, they don’t have television or the internet or Iphones or Facebook BUT STILL, I’m worried about myself. Remember that scene in Rocket man where he doesn’t get into the right sleep chamber and then has to spend 8 months alone by himself? Ya. Me. In three days.

In case you have no idea what I am talking about… here is the clip, abridged, but still extremely accurate.

3. I just experienced extreme sadness (involved crying) and extreme happiness (involved laughter) after watching two separate tv shows. All of this took place by myself.

Diagnosis: -I miss Grey’s Anatomy. I love how their lives parallel with their patients cases and lives. I love Meredith and Derek’s relationship. I want to be a doctor. I don’t want to be a doctor. I want to marry a doctor. I don’t want to marry a doctor. I want to hang out with these people and save lives and eat chocolate all day. Also, I discovered that the first disc of season two is missing from my collection. This was devastating.

– The New Girl (a new show starting TONIGHT) was very funny. I laughed by myself at how awkward Zooey Deschanel is, but also because she sort of reminds me of me. And that is both scary and flattering. Because she’s awkward in a charming and cute way. Which makes me awkward in the same way …right? RIGHT GUYS!? I would also like her to also be my friend. And eat chocolate all day.

Also, here’ the trailer. You should watch it. It’s funny. I want my own theme song.

4. Is it too much to ask for some stability right now? I don’t just mean ankle stability, but yes that too, but I mean in some form of my life. I mean yes, the whole job thing is still looming like an evil cloud over my head. Or more accurately, like one of those machines with a claw and you are trying to get that one pink squirrel stuffed animal and you’ve put in at least 45 quarters (which would honestly pay for a fleet of pink squirrels) but no matter how much you suck at this stupid claw game you just keep playing because you really just want that one stupid pink squirrel? Ya, that’s what my job search feels like. And my life. Like I’m playing a vending machine claw game trying to win something that I don’t even know that I want but I’ve put in so much time and effort at this point that I can’t possibly give up. When do I win huh!? This can be construed on all aspects of my life.

….However, in some regards, I finally put down the controller and gave up on the game. Sometimes, you don’t win the squirrel. Sometimes, the squirrel sucks. And you realize you should go play Skee ball instead.

Ok, enough with the arcade metaphors. See, I TOLD YOU I am going crazy.

5. baby thoughts:

– WTF is going on with Facebook? It’s having more of an identity crisis than I am. If it was a person, I would be like chill out, don’t make things so complicated. In fact, if Facebook was a person, it would be a girl with serious insecurity issues who felt the need to constantly change for some guy and she’d probably be really fake and talk behind your back and put on too much makeup and always wear really cheap heels. So screw you Facebook, you’re a terrible friend.

– I need to stop baking. I basically make 18 brownies, cupcakes, cookies etc.etc. for myself. I have no one to give this shit too. This is self-destructive behavior, Meg. Baking 30 cupcakes for yourself is madness. Delicious. But retarded.

– I hate laundry. I hate paying to do laundry. I legitimately get angry at the washing and drying machines for forcing me to give it money to do something I dislike doing anyway. One time I kicked the dryer and some guy saw me do it and smiled. I almost threw a semi-wet sock at him. Needless to say, there isn’t a friendship in our future. With random smiling man or the dryer.

Ok. I feel slightly better now. I need to get out of this apartment tomorrow or I will scream.Even it’s just to lay on the sidewalk outside my building. Which is admittedly sort of strange. But I’m not completely above doing. And tomorrow’s Wednesday! Best day of the week even if you are a semi-crippled, semi- unemployed, semi-awkward girl going through a semi-quarter life crisis.

Hmmkay, bye now.

m

hit me

I do not like to watch TV.

You can ask any roommate I have ever had to verify this particular claim. Although I do get sucked into the occasional trashy reality tv show (see: the bachelor) and I like a good sitcom with witty banter (see: 30 Rock, see: modern family, see: HIMYM… does Spongebob count?) but other than that, I really don’t spend much time in front of the TV with the intention of actually watching it. Notice I said, actually watch it because I do, on the other hand, spend a fair amount of time sitting on my couch.

hi couch

I was thinking about this today while I was wondering if I potentially suffered from a high-functioning level of ADD/ Autism and is it possible to have both at the same time and if so was I maybe a medical anomaly? Apparently, very few people have both and if they do it’s very severe and they basically behave like monkeys. So, logically after 20 years of wondering just what was wrong with him, I have discovered the exact medical condition as to which to diagnose my little brother with. But I digress.

ANYWAY, while I do not watch a lot of television, I DO have a vast cornucopia (GREAT word. I’ve been waiting for the opportune moment to use it in a sentence.) of knowledge in regards to music. I dislike complete silence unless I am writing or I am sleeping (and even in both of these instances, I will still sometimes make exceptions) and If music is not readily available, I will sing (you may once again verify this through any of my previous or current roommates.)

This includes (but is not limited to):

  • the shower
  • my car
  • the street
  • my room
  • airplanes
  • gas stations
  • elevators
  • escalators
  • regular stairs
  • moving sidewalks
  • the beach
  • national monuments
  • while I am waiting for my food to arrive at restaurants
  • standing in line at the bank
  • standing in line at Chipotle
  • standing in any line
  • elliptical machines
  • hiking trails
  • front porches
  • back porches
  • side porches
  • hair salons
  • and Costco.

I like singing and do so frequently. Sorry, not sorry.

My favorite song all throughout high school was anything I could roll down my windows to and let rip. And 6 plus years later… that hasn’t changed much. To me, whether I’m the one singing or not, music is a crucial component to any car ride I take and any moment to any day that I can squeeze it in.

On the subject of music, the legendary reggae artist, Bob Marley, once said,

“One good thing about music is that when it hits you, you feel no pain.”

Well, Bob. Respectively, I disagree. The reason I love music as much as I do, is that a song, any song, depending on when you first heard it and where you were when you were listening can make music so much more than that. A song can be a memory. A song can literally transport you back to another time and place. And isn’t that wonderful? And terrible? A song can hurt! Or it can make you fly. Make you feel like you’re on top of the world. Who hasn’t listened to “Fast Car” and just wanted roll down the windows and smoke something and watch the sun set as you drive way too fast into some unknown landscape thousands of miles ahead? And who hasn’t listened to Highway to the Danger Zone and felt like any task before them was chicken shit because they could do anything? Music has a soul. And because of that, Mr. Marley, it can absolutely hurt.

The other night I was in a taxi, and a song came on the radio. Granted, the time was after 1 AM on a Friday but god, that song was like the most wonderful, horrible memory all coming a thousand miles per hour straight into my face. And I felt so torn between wanting the driver to turn it off and turn it up at the same time. And singing along and jumping out of the taxi and running away from the sound of it. And crying like a baby and laughing like a maniac. And I know you know that feeling. And that’s what hurts! Because music can remind you of something that used to seem perfect. But it can also bring you back to that perfection for a 3 minute and 41 second time period. And when it happens, all you can do is sing along. And remember. Because there’s no really going back.. but maybe just for a few lyrics, it will be almost as good.

I don’t boast a large knowledge of musical artistry background history and house a library in my brain of each tour an artist has taken and how AWESOME that one live cd was… No, to me each song is where the music is at. It’s the lyrics. It’s the specific word choice mixed with the montage of background melody that bring you back or make each moment resonate. So I could care less if the artist is Bob Dylan or The Beatles or Justin Bieber. If it means something to someone– that’s something to appreciate. Because that means that the song did it’s job.

And to me, though no one asked, that’s the best thing about music.

That when it hit you, you feel…something.

watch?v=Bn0NLQI-l08

Lesson #5: THE GAME

I would like to speak on something near and dear and confusing and frustrating and familiar to my heart since about the tender age of 12. Something that has baffled more than one female throughout time and surely will continue to do so for all of eternity. Something that never ends and yet is always beginning, that there are no written rules for and even if there were, they would continually change so memorizing them would be futile. Something that both excites and disappoints and somehow manages to always be the answer but still leave you with a zillion questions.

Guessed it yet?

… THE GAME.

Yup. Who’s played it? Answer: everyone.

If you say you haven’t you are either:

a) lying

b) asexual

or c) so awkward that you have no idea you were a participant.

Let’s start with the players shall we?

Well, typically you need ONE guy and ONE girl to play THE GAME. Yep, that’s all. However, depending on sexual orientation these gender roles can be reversed and doubled several times over but for the sake of this particular post– and my knowledge that hales only from my own heterosexuality, let’s go with the basic one girl, one guy combo.

The rules?

Eh, yeah. About that? Well here’s how it SHOULD work. Hypothetical situation #1:

Betty and Johnny have developed romantic feelings toward eachother (they also live in 1955). Johnny tells Betty he likes her. Betty giggles and says she likes him too. Then they skip off holding hands together in the sunset and live happily ever after. THE END

Yes, I would love to be your housewife for the next 40 years of my life!

….And here’s how it actually works.

Disclaimer: don’t try to take this out of context. This is for once, a hypothetical situation that is not based on my life.. but a montage of several individuals:

Betty likes Johnny. Johnny likes Betty. Johnny pretends that Betty doesn’t exist. Betty calls Johnny an asshole. Johnny gets Betty’s number. Johnny never calls. Betty sees Johnny out and flirts blatantly with every guy within a 21-25 year old age range in a 500 foot radius. Johnny acts like he could care less. Betty and Johnny drunkenly makeout at a bar. Betty and Johnny go several weeks without contact. Betty breaks the silence. Betty texts Johnny, “What are you doing tonight?” Johnny responds with a smiley face. Betty throws her phone out the window. Betty retrieves phone to delete Johnnys number. Johnny sees Betty out and asks her out. Betty calls Johnny an asshole.. then says yes. Betty and Johnny go out on a date.

(…let’s not say there’s a happy ever after here.. jumping to conclusions is a rookie game-playing mistake numero uno)

Babe, I swear I

Here’s what I think. I think you read that and thought of several different scenarios in which you were either Betty or Johnny in hypothetical situation #2. And that’s because hypothetical situation #1 doesn’t exist. Sure, it would be nice if things were that simple. If people were honest and forthright and just put it all out on the table from the get go.. but you are kidding yourself if you think things are ever going to go that straightforward.

And here is why:

The logic behind THE GAME:

1– Some people like it. I mean they really genuinely enjoy the F’ed up lack of rules, of the chase, of playing several different players, of just being a general huge pain in the ass for the opposing players who just get dropped into The Game with little to no experience and no desire to play and no skill to keep up. In truth, they are evil and should be kept in a metaphorical Monopoly Jail. And not allowed to pass Go. And not allowed to collect 200 dollars in fake relationship money. But that’s not how The Game works. These players own the board. They kill it. They will tear a lesser participant apart heart string by heart string. And It’s both horrifying and fascinating to watch. Because… they are brilliant. In their own way. A truly skilled player is a force to observe. AS LONG AS you are on the sidelines. Otherwise, good freaking luck champ. Because if you are on the opposing end with someone who truly loves The Game, there really isn’t any winning involved.

2– I’ve come to the conclusion (without any degree to back this up.. so this is my own opinion, which makes it fact) that it is human nature when it comes to potential relationships, to take the longest route ever in the means of saying how you really feel. No one wants to be the first to come out and say, “Hey. I like you. Even when I’m sober. We should eat food together at a public place.” I mean understandably, those are big words! That’s a big commitment! And who wants to be the first to admit such honesty? Answer: no one. Which is why the game exists in the first place.

3– It’s fun… sometimes. Ok admitedly, the wait is fun. As long as the wait is going somewhere right?

Example:

“Ahh, Johnny asked for my number! This is so exciting. I can’t wait until he calls. I’m going to go shopping.”

*3 days pass*

“Ok… ummm why hasn’t he called yet? This is like so NOT cool! Why did he ask for my number if he wasn’t going to call? Do you think he forgot my number? O my god, what if I gave him the wrong number? No.. that’s the only number I know. That can’t be it. What if he’s hurt? What if he died? Do you think he’s actually just gay and being nice? Is something wrong with my phone?? Quick. Someone call me. Maybe I should call him. Maybe I should text him. Ugh WHATEVER!!!!! .. I’m going shopping.”

*one week passes*

” Johnny is like the biggest asshole in the world. I am so deleting his number. What. A. Jerk. Ugh. I hate guys. They are all the same. I need new shoes. OMG!!!!! HES CALLING ME!!!!!!”

The wait is worth it. As long as Johnny actually calls. As long as Betty is actually interested. It makes the logistics of The Game actually worth an individuals time. Unfortunately, it’s not that simple still. Sometimes, Johnny never calls and sometimes Betty only wanted a free drink. Hey, I never said The Game was fair. I just said it was inevitable.

In honesty, there are a thousand things I could speak on about The Relationship Game we all put ourselves through in an effort to get closer to someone. But similar to the particular recreation I currently speak of, if I wrote about everything I needed to say.. you would eventually get bored and go read something else.

Mostly, I guess I find myself constantly wondering why with each new player, with each new scenario, with each new start to each new scheme.. why we all continue to play sometimes. I’m sure it ends in more heartbreak than happily ever afters but yet, every single day, there we all are again. On the court. Because we really just can’t stop. Even with the knowledge that you will never ever completely understand the opposite sex and you will never ever win a never ending game, we just can’t stop participating. Why? Because it’s fun? Because we’re lonely? Because it’s human nature? Because we’re just really screwed up like that?

Answer:…. Pause….

So I suppose….. with no real answers, I will leave you with the immortal lyrics of Ice T, from his rapping sensational hit, Hate the Playa:

“I don’t know why a player wanna hate T
I didn’t choose the game, the game chose me”

Translation? According to Urban Dictionary, this particular lyric comes from the origin of a quote from Ghandi who said, “Don’t hate the sinner. Hate the sin.”

And in modern terminology we may take this as such:

don’t hate the player (whoever they may be), hate the stupid, stupid game.

Checkmate.

-m

take two of these and call me in the morning

Recently (because honestly what else am I supposed to do), I have started to notice a little trend when I am at work.

Besides the fact I have noticed which managers will confine me to the fitting room to the cave for hours on end and which allow me to see the light of day, and also which ones willingly allow me the basic human rights of a ten minute break and which ones make me feel like I am shoplifting seventeen purses for asking.. I have also noticed another pattern in my working hours.

I’ll be standing in the fitting room or at the register and women will either come to try things on or be checking out and they will say something to me that’s so much more than your average small talk. It’s usually only a sentence or two but it’s something that if I were to remark on, I know they’d latch on to my comment and jump onto my neck with a lengthy monologue about their little lives. And it’s usually a snide remark against themselves.

About their appearance.

About their weight.

About their husbands.

About their boyfriends.

A little tidbit of their daily misery shared with the anonymous checkout girl over a pair of pants.

And it’s making me start to wonder why a psychology degree is not a requirement in the retail business. Honestly, I feel like a miniature therapist. Don’t get me wrong, I WANT to comfort these women. To tell them that that dress probably is not going to make their husband notice them for as long as they’d like (which I’m going to take a wild guess is probably forever) and that no amount of cute little trinkets will help them lose weight because they couldn’t find anything that fit them. And it’s such an awkward fine line between wanting to reach out and hug them or just remain silent. Mostly, I guess I just can’t believe I have all this compassion for these lonely unhappy perfect strangers. Just call me Mother Meg, patron saint of the rich, the caffeinated, the huddled masses yearning to blow mad cash..

some statue somewhere??

And you know what else it made me think? We are all settling. Yup. We are all settling on something to temporarily make us happy in hopes that eventually it will bring us peace long term. Yeah, in this particular instance these women aren’t shopping for a perfect outfit.. they are looking for acceptance. Which just honestly makes me even more frustrated about my job. I am selling superficial temporary happiness and I am doing it with a stupid fake tacky smile. I kick myself!

But it also makes me think about the ways that I am settling. I am settling in a job I dislike so strongly that I wake up and dread going to work a good 8 hours before I get there. I have settled in relationships that I knew were on the road to ruin before they even got out of the starting gate. I have settled on toxic friendships and evanescent highs because guess what? They made me temporarily happy. Like a plate of DANK brownies ingested all in one sitting and twenty minutes later you want to die and you hate your life, and you are in the fetal position holding your stomach in catastrophic pain (totally guessing on this.. obviously I would never attempt this )

My point is such.. I feel bad for these women- yes. But EARTH TO MEG.. these women are you!

Because everyone is settling. Including yes, even myself (hard to believe when I have so much going for me!?)

And it makes me realize that patience is a virtue I sadly do not possess. But if I have to find a meaning in my current life predicament… that would probably be my answer.

Anything worth having..is worth waiting for.

And that means everything.

Whether it’s a guy.

Or a girl.

Or a job.

Or a shirt that’s so freaking cute, oh my god if you don’t get it

.. you will die.

(spoiler: you aren’t going to die… but I do know that feeling).

So… a little call to action from the girl who needs one too. Stop settling. Stop giving in to second best just because it’s (or they) are going to make you temporarily happy. Stop being the silly woman who shares her sadness with the random fitting room girl (it’s a metaphor people.. come on.)

Everyone has something. Stop doing it.

You only deserve better when you decide you deserve better. It’s up to you. But until then, be my guest and keep buying shit you sort of want to fill the hole of something you actually need.

…And in the meantime,

I’ll be the girl behind the counter.

Ok, I know this is creepy.. but kind of wonderful too right? Who knew I would look this good as a red-head?

between the lines

It feels like Fall today.

Which I like.

I like Fall.

Want to know why?

Because it’s a season of change, but change that doesn’t drag on until you get overwhelmed by it’s stay. Winter and Summer sometimes overstay their welcome but Fall comes and goes and before you know, it’s gone. And in a good way. It brings in some of the best things. It’s like Santa Clause at the end of Macy’s Thanksgiving Parade. You know that Santa is coming, and that he’s the best and that he also represents Christmas and when the parade ends you know Christmas is coming! At least, I always get that symbolism. Like the way that Fall is between Summer and Winter. ¬†Though I still very much enjoy the fall cliches like leaves changing, and tailgating and season premieres of television series and anything that involves the color orange and tastes like pumpkin, but still.. there’s something very specific about this time of year that I enjoy.

It’s the feeling that first thing in the morning when you walk outside and it’s not quite bitter cold but cold enough to wake you up and sharpen your senses. And everything looks a little bit more clear and the air just kind of bites you but in a good way. And you have to blink a few times because you haven’t quite adapted to the lighting. And though it’s not necessarily quiet out, it feels sort of silent. And you find yourself missing something. Or someone. And it’s a special kind of missing because it’s not quite sadness as much as it is acceptance.¬†And you always take a really big breath of air like you’re trying to suck in the feeling of your first step. The feeling of the combination of being in tuned with everything around you for a few short moments until you step back into reality and adjust back to your surroundings again. And that’s what I love about this time of year. That short moment where it’s just you and Fall. You and change. You and moving on.