Over the years, a number of men/boys/manboys have attempted to entice me into the boudoir using a variety of tactics. This is because I am just so darn irresistible—wait that’s not it—it’s because I was born with two X chromosomes. Most of these pleas are fairly laughable, including bragging about their adult film star physicality (yeah that happened) and explaining how they always wanted to cross someone like me off their bucket list (Oh, are you a Make-A-Wish kid? Let’s do this!). But some are just plain hurtful, like the scare tactic.
A Mistake I Have to Make
As growing and evolving human beings our lives are strung together by a series of lessons we’ve learned from mistakes we’ve made and sworn never to repeat again. But for some of us (hopefully there is an “us” and I’m not completely alone in my shame) there are mistakes we knowingly repeat and can never explain our motives to the satisfaction of anyone with half an ounce of common sense. The routinely revisited error is a difficult one to comprehend. There are a slew of quotes floating around the universe pontificating on the absurdity of reverting back to old missteps.
The Love Gene
After spending some time with my grandmother discussing dating and such, I’ve come to the completely unscientific and most likely false conclusion that romantical preferences are a hereditary curse. I also did a Bible study this past summer that suggested there might be some truth to this theory. Though the study was more about bearing the emotional burdens of our mothers and their mothers before them, naturally some of this translates into how we approach our relationships. It suggested that even though we may not have some life-altering traumatic experiences in our lifetime, the damage inflicted on the women in our blood lines before us may spill over into our lives without our knowledge or permission.
Submission and Feminism: Or, Will I Ever Find Equality with a Christian Man?
So for the most part we (we being crazy Christians) understand that whole “wives submit to your husbands” bit in the Bible is actually imploring spouses to submit to one another, because although the man is the “head of the household” (that term is ick) the passage goes on to say the husband must love his wife as Christ loved us. You know, in a get-tortured-and-die-on-the-cross-for-your-sake kind of way. That man has to do what’s best for you at all costs because Jesus says. Oh and because he kind of digs you too. That means even though the term “submission” seems antiquated and distasteful the actual practice of the instruction can be a part of a really beautiful and mutually respectful relationship. (P.S. It even says submit to one another right there at the beginning of the passage there, did you see that?)
I Resolve to Find Me a Man in 2012?
Ok I’m back from my unintentional holiday hiatus. I’m sure I was missed terribly. And in keeping with the obligatory themed posts this one is going to be about resolutions, kids. Well part of it’s due to the New Year’s resolution shtick and part of it’s because a friend of mine made some quip the other day about how I wanted a man more than the average sow (that’s a female bear). I took great offense to this statement despite the fact that he didn’t believe he was being offensive. To me he was saying, “you are desperate and in need of a boyfriend because you’re obviously no good without one.” To him he was saying, well, I’m still not clear on what he thinks he was saying.
Obligatory Annual I’m Single On Christmas Post
With the holiday season comes all those warm fuzzy feelings that often lead to the more single of us to wish Santa would bring us someone with whom we can share a series of eggnog-soaked activities. I can’t lie (obviously since I’ve over-confessed much to you fine people for the past two years), I’ve had my “All I want for Christmas is you, whoever you may be, because I have only a very generic idea of you in my mind” moments. I get doubly nailed with single awareness events given the fact that my birthday is this month as well. Which means I’m just one year closer to throwing myself a wedding-themed birthday party. (Not really. That’s just frightening.)
Strange Encounters of the Hot Mess Kind
I didn’t think I had it in me, but apparently I possess the ability to crumble into a steaming pile of spaz with merely a glimpse of a guy I dated for a few months so long as that glimpse also includes an impossibly skinny brunette. There was a time that I dreamt I had more dignity than that, but I was wrong. Because today a poorly timed siting at Rainbow Foods just completely ruined my shit.
Confessions of a Mistress
Ok that title is unnecessarily dramatic. I’m sorry. I’m not really a mistress per se. But no one is going to read a post entitled: “Confessions of a Girl Who Maybe Flirted a Little Too Hard With Someone Who Was Unavailable.” Now that I got your attention by misleading you, let me explain my mistress-light circumstances.
Happy Life Means Nothing to Write
As you may have noticed, I’ve been experiencing a bit of writer’s block as of late. Though that writer’s block may be attributed more to a dry spell that leads to two posts about the same scenario in which I get stood up. Wow. The more I write the more pitiful I sound, maybe that’s why I’ve lacked the motivation to post as of late.
Tales From Relationships of Yore: Not The One
So once upon a time, there was this boy—and, at four years my junior, “boy” described him perfectly. He was many things I wanted in a potential mate and many things I didn’t. I saw those deal-breaker sticking points and refused to give him a second thought for many months of his advances. He would flirt and I would dismiss. He would pursue and I would trot off in the other direction. “He’s not The One,” I told myself.