What is the difference between 20 and 30 something women? Besides financial stability and varying levels of maturity, I would have to say the major difference is life experience. This became even clearer to me most recently when I talked to some 20-something girls after my writer's group.
Child, they sounded about crazy! They were going on and on about how they weren't interested in some of the young men in the group because they were awkward and boring. I was actually beginning to get annoyed before I reminded myself that they are but babes in this purgatory that is often referred to as "the single life".
When I was their age (before dating apps) I was looking for love on Craigslist (before the Craigslist Killer). I met a guy who was only looking for a fling to add to his list of flings, and another guy who lied about his height. No joke, he said he was 5'8 and showed up at my doorstep as a literal dwarf. Not that I have an issue with dwarves. On the contrary, I was open to dating one. But the fact that he had told such an outrageous lie killed our love before it had a chance to get off the ground. I had a long distance situation with a man who cashed his paychecks and kept all his money in Nike boxes under his bed. And who can forget the guy that I thought was my boyfriend...only for him to call and tell me that he needed emotional support dealing with the fact that he had impregnated a woman in a club bathroom. These girls don't understand: a boring man is what you want!
So what if he doesn't keep you on the edge of your seat wondering if he is going to get caught for that handful of warrants? You want a man that is going to work a real job and come home to you, without any outside club toilet babies.
When I was in college, I do admit that I had a thing for boys in fitted caps who drove Impalas. But where are those fascinating boys now? The ones who haven't changed into respectable family men are juggling women like foam balls!
I guess this is a lesson that you learn with age; when you realize that having a man that keeps you guessing really isn't that exciting.
Wednesday, June 19, 2019
Monday, June 10, 2019
Paternity Potato
Of late, I have been sitting on my imaginary couch watching real reruns of Paternity Court like a couch potato. That's right: I'm a Paternity Potato. '
Finding out that 5 seasons of full episodes of this show are on Youtube has been the most amazing, unproductive thing to happen to me in a long time. I have had a lot on my mind, on my chest, and in my spirit, so watching Paternity Court reruns has served as a welcome escape and fun way to waste time.
As a writer, I am a sucker for a good story, and this show is FULL of good stories. Women that get pregnant in threesomes. Men who thought they couldn't have kids because of painful, disfiguring scrotum trama, only to find out they are the father of twins. People who find out in their 40s that their father isn't really their father. On its face, it's a really sad show that highlights the downfall of our society. It is also hilarious.
I am at a stage in my life where it has become clear that it is time to activate the Plan B plan. Plan A was a mess, and it is going to take some serious brainstorming, GRE studying, research, and self-patience to get to the next level. But this whole process is overwhelming and exhausting. I just want to go back to a time where I was so stupid and tipsy on hand grenades that if my life was sinking, I would not have even noticed. But the past is in the past and I am now grown and very aware. I also don't drink anymore, so the drowning feeling is very frightening.
P thinks that I am a lazy crybaby. Maybe he is right. Thinking about all of my issues literally sucks the life out of me. Listening to an episode as I type, I guess it is a small blessing that I at least know who my father is. You have to be grateful for the little things.
Finding out that 5 seasons of full episodes of this show are on Youtube has been the most amazing, unproductive thing to happen to me in a long time. I have had a lot on my mind, on my chest, and in my spirit, so watching Paternity Court reruns has served as a welcome escape and fun way to waste time.
As a writer, I am a sucker for a good story, and this show is FULL of good stories. Women that get pregnant in threesomes. Men who thought they couldn't have kids because of painful, disfiguring scrotum trama, only to find out they are the father of twins. People who find out in their 40s that their father isn't really their father. On its face, it's a really sad show that highlights the downfall of our society. It is also hilarious.
I am at a stage in my life where it has become clear that it is time to activate the Plan B plan. Plan A was a mess, and it is going to take some serious brainstorming, GRE studying, research, and self-patience to get to the next level. But this whole process is overwhelming and exhausting. I just want to go back to a time where I was so stupid and tipsy on hand grenades that if my life was sinking, I would not have even noticed. But the past is in the past and I am now grown and very aware. I also don't drink anymore, so the drowning feeling is very frightening.
P thinks that I am a lazy crybaby. Maybe he is right. Thinking about all of my issues literally sucks the life out of me. Listening to an episode as I type, I guess it is a small blessing that I at least know who my father is. You have to be grateful for the little things.
Potty Panicked
(warning: this is a TMI post)
About a month ago, I had hands down the worst away from home bathroom experience of my life! It has taken me a minute to discuss it with you because I am still traumatized.
I had to pee really bad, and I had the choice of waiting on my aunt to come out of the grocery store and going at home or taking my chances and using a grocery store bathroom. Anyone who has had to go while shopping will tell you that using a grocery store bathroom is a tossup. But I didn't have a choice. I REALLY had to go.
I raced into the store and straight for the bathroom when my heart sank. My beloved handicapped stall was being occupied by a sister that was in the stall crying. Eyeroll. I had to think fast and on my feet. I could wait on her, but she was in mid-sob, and didn't sound like she would be coming out of there anytime soon. Or I could go to a basic bitch stall that has never, ever gone well for me. Seeing that I have not had A+ bladder control since I was 31, I chose a basic stall.
I ran to the stall at the back of the bathroom only for my heart to, again, sink. I was eye to eye with a dreaded low potty. This toilet looked like the toilets at the daycare that we used to train the 2-year-olds on! They are horribly uncomfortable for tall people, plus-size people, or anyone expecting a positive bathroom experience. But I had no choice! I had to go.
After relieving myself, I came back to reality quick. How the hell was I going to get off of the commode and out of the stall? I attempted to just move fast and get up, but I nearly torpedoed myself out of the stall head first.
I sat back, panicked. What was I going to do? I thought about calling my aunt, but she is notorious for not hearing it when she is out and about. I even thought about calling to the crying lady in the handicapped stall for help, but how weird and awkward would that have been? For a split second, I thought about crawling out of the stall, but if my undies would have touched the bathroom floor, I would have had no choice but to set the whole bathroom on fire.
Fear gripped my body as I had a vision of me having to call the police to get me out of the stall. I sat there depressed. Was that what my life had come to? Me getting lifted off the john by first responders like some My 600-lb Life reject?
More motivated than I've ever been to do anything, I used my teaspoon of core strength to get up and elbow climb out of the stall.
"Hell ya!" I exclaimed as I got out of the stall with a sharp spasm in my side and tired arms. The lady in the handicapped stall was still crying, but not I! For the first time in a long time, I was faced with a hurdle and was able to get up.
About a month ago, I had hands down the worst away from home bathroom experience of my life! It has taken me a minute to discuss it with you because I am still traumatized.
I had to pee really bad, and I had the choice of waiting on my aunt to come out of the grocery store and going at home or taking my chances and using a grocery store bathroom. Anyone who has had to go while shopping will tell you that using a grocery store bathroom is a tossup. But I didn't have a choice. I REALLY had to go.
I raced into the store and straight for the bathroom when my heart sank. My beloved handicapped stall was being occupied by a sister that was in the stall crying. Eyeroll. I had to think fast and on my feet. I could wait on her, but she was in mid-sob, and didn't sound like she would be coming out of there anytime soon. Or I could go to a basic bitch stall that has never, ever gone well for me. Seeing that I have not had A+ bladder control since I was 31, I chose a basic stall.
I ran to the stall at the back of the bathroom only for my heart to, again, sink. I was eye to eye with a dreaded low potty. This toilet looked like the toilets at the daycare that we used to train the 2-year-olds on! They are horribly uncomfortable for tall people, plus-size people, or anyone expecting a positive bathroom experience. But I had no choice! I had to go.
After relieving myself, I came back to reality quick. How the hell was I going to get off of the commode and out of the stall? I attempted to just move fast and get up, but I nearly torpedoed myself out of the stall head first.
I sat back, panicked. What was I going to do? I thought about calling my aunt, but she is notorious for not hearing it when she is out and about. I even thought about calling to the crying lady in the handicapped stall for help, but how weird and awkward would that have been? For a split second, I thought about crawling out of the stall, but if my undies would have touched the bathroom floor, I would have had no choice but to set the whole bathroom on fire.
Fear gripped my body as I had a vision of me having to call the police to get me out of the stall. I sat there depressed. Was that what my life had come to? Me getting lifted off the john by first responders like some My 600-lb Life reject?
More motivated than I've ever been to do anything, I used my teaspoon of core strength to get up and elbow climb out of the stall.
"Hell ya!" I exclaimed as I got out of the stall with a sharp spasm in my side and tired arms. The lady in the handicapped stall was still crying, but not I! For the first time in a long time, I was faced with a hurdle and was able to get up.
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