I’m Positively Realistic

I’ve been doing this workout class locally–I normally describe it to friends as ballet on steroids. It’s called Barre (like ballet barre–not drinking bar) and it’s a mixture of ballet, pilates, yoga, and working your body so hard that you are physically shaking when you leave the class.  If I’m not smokin’ in my bikini on the beach this summer then there’s just no hope–my time is over.

At my last Barre class it was the cool down part of the workout and the instructor said, “when you wake up in the morning you say, ‘THANK YOU!'” and she slammed her hand against the wall. And I looked at her thinking, “that’s something I honestly never say.”  And I couldn’t stop thinking about it the entire day because it had such an impact on me–it wasn’t just the words, it was how she said it. It was real, it was honest, and it was powerful (particularly considering my last week in January).

Anyway, the instructor is a positive person, and I normally avoid that kind of vibe, but she’s not over the top. She’s positive with a realistic approach. Now, let me explain. It’s not that I don’t like positive people it’s just that I prefer real. There’s a lot of bullshit positive out there.

For example, when I see a post on Facebook about how “blessed” they are to have the spouse they have in their life–I know they’re minutes from squad cars on the lawn. (I don’t want you to post your fights on FB either–but let’s tone down the “blessed” shit, m’kay?)

Or the mom that posts about how much she adores her babies and we should all hug them everyday super tight because they grow so fast and we’re all going to miss this someday. 1. Don’t fucking tell me what to do. B. My kids know I love them. 3. Seriously? People told me I’d miss it when my children weren’t babies anymore. I can tell you, unequivocally, that I do NOT miss baby life in ANY sense. In fact, if I think too much about it my eye starts to twitch.

I had a guy trying to hook up with me recently (several different times when we’d run into each other at a local bar) and I knew he was married. (I attract married men. A lot. Not sure why). So I said to him, “why don’t you take your wife out? You have a 3 year old at home, right? Do you have any idea how much that FUCKING SUCKS to be stuck with a toddler all day everyday? Get a fucking sitter and take your wife out.” Fast forward, there was a small scene between us at a local bar, I guess he got embarrassed, and he’s finally stopped texting me and following me all over town asking me to go out with him. (Oh, I seem to get stalkers too–Again, I don’t know why).

I got so pissed at all the IG and FB posts about loving yourself and not worrying if you had a person in your life that I had a small rant on FB the other day. Okay, so here’s the thing, if you like being alone? Good for you. Keep that shit going. But PLEASE stop telling me that my not wanting to be alone is some type of defect or weakness. That I must not have evolved enough and that’s why I can’t be alone.  STOP making me feel like I should go off on an ice flo. I think that what Cheryl Strayed did was awesome (going off on a hike, solo, for several days after her massive emotional crash in her life) and I’ve often thought how amazing it would be to be able to do that–but I’ve got 3 kids and CPS gets all pissy if you just leave the kids alone for several days. It was hard enough to get people to watch them when I was in critical condition at the hospital recently. Can you imagine, “Oh hey, friends, I want to go on a several day hike to clear my head. Mind watching my kids?” I was actually dying and people were like, “uhm.. I’m really super busy..

So back to the “love yourself” shit. I have to be honest–that is borderline arrogant. I mean, I don’t think it’s good to hate yourself but I run into a LOT of guys that love themselves (they’re the ones posting shirtless selfies in the bathroom with the toilet in the background on dating sites) and they’re annoying as fuck in real life. In fact, we call them fuckboys for a reason. So no, I never tell my kids to “love themselves.” Respect yourself? Yes. Work hard? Yes. But please, don’t grow up to be an arrogant fucking asshole. It’s wildly unattractive.

I do NOT understand the concept of wanting to be alone. And, probably for the same reason the people that like being alone all the time don’t understand my wanting to be with people or have a person. I need a person. And truth be told I want that person to only want me–exclusivity. It’s elusive–but I want it.

I was recently at the office and we have a new hire (a woman–which is kind of rare in my office actually). We were all on the elevator together and I said something about how my current work from home situation was a blessing and a curse. They said, “how can it be a curse?” and the new girl (who I’ve only met a couple times) said, “a person like her needs to be around people…” and I looked at her and she smiled at me. I said, “how do you know that?” and she said, “I’ve watched you–you’re very social. And a person like you needs people to interact with–you need contact.” The doors opened and we all walked to the bar and I was shocked that this woman had me figured out after only a couple of random meetings.

Admittedly, I’m not quiet when I’m at the office. Especially lately because I go in so rarely, I have a tendency to make sure the whole office knows I’m there. I make the rounds like I’m up for re-election and need to speak to all my constituents. The reality is that I miss them–even though we instant message and do conference calls there’s nothing like face to face chatting and laughing. She is right–I need contact.

When I was in the ICU a friend I used to know called me. I’m not sure what day it was because most of that time is a blur thanks to the massive amount of narcotics getting pumped into my body. I don’t even really remember most of our conversation–I think he mainly talked about himself or his kids. But I remember at one point I began to cry and said, “I don’t want to be alone. I’m all alone here. I hate being alone.” and he quietly replied, “I know. I know you don’t.” I think we hung up after that–I really don’t remember. He used to tell me all the time he needed to be alone and that I should learn to be alone too. Here’s my answer: NO.

I date a lot–I’ll be honest, I usually am juggling a few different guys at once (trust me–we all know they’re doing the same fucking thing). I do not have trouble getting dates. I’m not whining that there are no men out there. Yes, there are some assholes, there are some dates that just go no where, there’s very rarely any type of connection (I think a real connection is rare and should you get that–fight for it because you probably won’t get it again. I had it recently, after thinking it would never happen for me, and when he left (he lives across the country) it was a hard crash for me.)

Now, there’s this idea that only men want sex–that’s bullshit. Or, I’m an anomaly, who the fuck knows. I need that contact, too.  I crave having a person pay exclusive attention to me and make me feel loved (even if we know it’s not really love). Like Rob Thomas says, “Just tell me anything, you can lie to me.”

Do I want real love? Yes, I really do. Do I believe I’ll get it? No, I really don’t.  AND BEFORE YOU FLOOD ME WITH COMMENTS… PLEASE do not tell me that love is out there for me and it will come when it’s time. I don’t want to hear it. I really REALLY don’t. I’m old, I wasted my youth with a man that  had no love for me and  you know what? That’s on me. I’m the one that fucked up there.

Will I continue to date men? Most certainly–I cannot be without them. I love men. I really do–even the platonic relationships. I am most comfortable with men and love to be around them. And I love the rush of a man that makes me feel like he wants me. Some people can’t stop smoking, some people can’t stop drinking, some people can’t stop chewing on their pencils, and I’m a person that can’t stop seeking out the affection of men–even though I know they won’t stick around long. The crash after they are gone is sometimes too much to bear (particularly for the few that I actually like) and I withdraw from everyone for a few days so I can recover on my own terms. But then I pull myself back up. I fix my makeup. I change my hair. And, I go out again. It’s just what I do.

It’d be cool if someone bought me some jewelry though. Just sayin’


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