Friends with Benefits

I have always had a problem where I make out with my friends. For me this is not really an issue. They are usually there after a heavy night of cocktails and it is basically convenience. But, I think it can make things a little awkward. I did it in high school … I did it in college … and I did it last weekend. Damnit.

The friend make out can go one of two ways. Neither of you care at all and are totally candid about it. OR you both pretend nothing happened and secretly avoid one another for a few weeks until the awkwardness wears off. I usually choose the former of the two options. But sometimes I go with the latter.

You also have to establish some ground rules mentally when you make out with a friend. You cannot get attached. You also have to realize that it is going to make things awkward for the rest of your friends when they find out. Or they will mock you endlessly. I mean, either way it is going to be a bad situation.

So I have made an August resolution! Not to make out with friends ANYMORE. As a side note, on Saturday I was blacked out from too much vodka. Sunday I proceeded to sit in bed ALL day and eat an entire pizza throughout the day. Nothing is better for a hangover than that.

My theory on friends with benefits: it does not really work. And you are going to get made fun of.

The Creepy Goatee Set-up

So I thought it was weird when my evil ex’s friends asked me out for drinks. I mean I thought that they probably secretly did not like him (which ended up being the case as they were very candid about it) – but asking an ex for drinks was kind of a lot. I went anyways just to show I was fabulous and doing well without my stupid ex bf.

It turns out this was a set-up. There was a guy who was friends with them who they wanted me to go out with. Which was nice. But he was BALD. Like he took a Bic to his head. And he had a mustache which turned into a goatee. WHO said mustaches were still acceptable in society today? I certainly do NOT approve. Now that I think about it I am having flashbacks and my stomach kind of feels ill. GROSS. And why would it be okay for me to date someone with such an appearance? Who is in his mid-30s and still lives in a house with multiple roommates. Sorry bud, this is not college. You do not live in a frat house.

So regardless of all of this, I go out with him …. Mostly out of spite. I want my ex to hear I am going on dates and let alone – the people he considers his “friends” are setting me up on them. If my friends were trying to set an ex of mine up with anyone, I would be LIVID!

Don’t get me wrong, this guy is TOTALLY nice. And a gentleman … but there is NO way I can get past the goatee. None. I thought about it and the thought of kissing him made me ill. The second (and last) date we went on … he walked me to the door and clearly wanted to come in. I acquiesced but sat on the other end of the couch and proceeded to fall asleep. I was not letting this guy get his hands on me.

Let’s get one thing straight. I do not know how to dump a guy. I have never really had to do it. I was usually just blacked out on vodka and not dating. So how do I do it? My therapist informed me that I should just stop calling him back. (Sometimes I feel like she gives poor advice). But I felt like that was SO rude.

I did take the advice of my therapist and it worked. Although – someone should really address his facial hair with him. So inappropriate.

AA Dating

So I meet this guy. He is a Hokie (he went to VA Tech). We really ended up hitting it off. He was nice and polite and had a country accent. For some reason accents of any kind get me. Especially country ones. I just assume that they are gentlemen and that they would treat me like a southern belle.

After a few dates – which consisted of two meals and then sitting on my couch watching movies (which I purchased on-demand … leaving me with a sweet cable bill that month …. And then making out. This was fine. I like to make out. But something was off about this guy the whole time. He never wanted a beer or anything when he was at my house. (OK fine – maybe he was not into Weds drinking …. I get that) but then my friend Sne and I looked him up on Facebook.

All his posts were about “Keep it Simple Stupid” and “One Day at a Time” – anyone could figure out the guy was an alcoholic. I know personally from attending AA meetings after a DUI incident in Blacksburg circa 2005. But that is a WHOLE additional blog post. Let’s just say … the jail in Christiansburg, VA is not a good place for a 22-year-old blacked out female.

He also LOVED AA. Which was odd to me. ALL of his friends came from AA. This presented an odd predicament for me. How can all of your friends be in AA. Isn’t that like co-dependency or something?? I guess people who attend AA need an addiction and this is what they choose instead of booze. I guess it is healthier than alcohol. But I cant date someone who does not drink. I like a glass of wine with my dinner and I felt like I was enabling by having something to drink in front of him. (OK, fine I did a few times).

Then I realized this guy was DUMB. I was actually not very proud that he went the same educational institution that I did. HOW did someone like him graduate? Then I found out that he used to be a drug addict. Good. So all things aside, I decided to use him for what he was good for. Sex …. At this point we may as well bone, right? Yes, I said bone.

Things didn’t really work out too well as I ended up having to take a morning after pill at one point and that was not cool. Damn you, Trojan! So let’s just say things tapered after that experience. But I definitely did not want any drug addicted alcoholic babies… who were dumb.

Back to square one.

Tiny Wiggly Eyes

So I have not updated this blog in a while. I know, Bad Girl because all 7 people who read it may be upset. But I wanted to update on some of the quality dates I have been on.

Now I know that not everyone you meet online is going to be PERFECT. There is a lot of misrepresentation. And getting out of a REALLY bad relationship – it did not matter who I dated. As long as they did not try to get hookers or throw hammers at me. My standards are low at best.

So a few months ago I go out with this guy who looks really cute online. Note: ALWAYS look at the height prior to going out with someone. Not that I am a heightist but I would like to be at least the same height and preferably shorter than whoever I am dating.

Anyways I go on a date with this guy and we have to wait for a table. I order a Shock Top. This is nothing crazy. It is a regular beer – and this guy knows nothing about it. Ok, fine. He is not a drinker. I on the other hand, enjoy a good cocktail now and again. But give me a little vodka or too much wine and things spiral quickly out of control.

The first thing that this guy tells me is that he had to have surgery for his eyes because the wiggled constantly. It was like lazy eye surgery but a little more intense. OK, well that is nice. Then he proceeds to point to his eyes and tell me “See, they still do it a little!” – Awesome. If anyone has ever told you that they have a wobbly eye then it is the ONLY thing you look at the whole time.
Of course he ended up being in software – as every single person I have met online has been. So we talked about software all night and I stared at his 5’5’’ wobbly eye.

Needless to say, I did not call him back. Ever.

Chicken Grease?

So since I am now single and have had a few months to recover from the debacle that was my last relationship, my friends have taken an interest in trying to find men for me to date. There are also men coming out of the woodwork with an interest in me. I have to say, this has never really happened – especially so many at once. Maybe it is because after my last relationship, I am a little bit more bold with guys and less shy about dating in general.

The only issue with this is these guys are NOT GOOD. All of them are pretty overweight and, not that I think I am the hottest person ever, I think I could do a little better … at least physically. And they are all REALLY nice. I feel bad saying that since it seems shallow. But at this point, I just have to be honest.

Option A) Jack Black / Hurley from LOST love child look alike. Please refer back to my blog post entitled Dodging the ‘Stache.

Option B) Big Boy: He is REALLY nice but kind of obese. BB has been texting me and I want to be friends, but I don’t want to lead him on and make him think I want more.

Option C) Ginger Goatee: Again a heavy guy who is SUPER nice and actually really fun. I just do not think I could get past the goatee.

Option D) Chicken Grease: This is by far the best. This morning I get an email from one of my friends saying that this person is interested in me. Now – I don’t remember him but just assumed I knew him and was drunk and forgot who he was. It happens. He asked to be my FB friend and so I accepted since we had so many friends in common. It turns out that this man is missing a front tooth and is a redneck whose friends have lovingly nicknamed him Chicken Grease.

First off, I would be really mad if someone named me Chicken Grease. Second, REALLY? My friends think I should date a toothless man named CHICKEN GREASE?

All of this is kind of unprecedented. I am not asking my friends to hook me up with anyone. And how did Chicken Grease even decide he was interested in me if we don’t really know eachother.

I asked one of my best guy friends, B, what he thinks and his theory is that I really set the standards low with my ex and everyone wondered why I was dating him. Not only was he not the hottest, he was not even nice. So now people think I have no filter as to who I will date.

Every year for July 3rd my best friend, Britt, and her family throw a party. And half of my potential suitors will be there. Maybe there will be a brawl for my love. But I certainly hope not.

The Nerd / Moobs Date

Ok so I decided to give this online dating thing another whirl. There are certain types of men who frequent these sites. The ones trolling for sex, the legit nice and nerdy ones who just want a date / to find someone to marry, and the creepers. No, 47-year-old who lives in West VA, I don’t want to chat with you … but thanks for the offer.

Last night I went on a date with the second type … the legit nice nerd. So his pics online were quite deceiving. But I should have known when he had a Masters in Science and was an engineer for “some place he could not talk about” – which means he has a high clearance like most people here. Or he was making it up. Either way.

For a first date you would think someone would pull it together. Look a little nice. Dress their best. But no. This guy had on stone washed jeans and an ill fitting polo with his college logo and bad white tennis shoes. Tennis shoes? Really? And he had moobs. Yes, man boobs. Which were highlighted by his quasi-lycra shirt.

Now bad dressing is not necessarily a total deal breaker. Whatever. But he also had this odd blinking thing that I have seen a lot of engineers do. Like he has something in both eyes constantly and he could not make eye contact with me. Now I get that he was nervous but I can talk to a tree for hours so he could have been ok.
The conversation was centered around work and technology the whole night. The ENTIRE thing. I can get down with technology but I talk about it alllll day at work. I don’t want to talk about it in my social outings.

I am kind of a closet nerd too. But you know what it is like to KNOW you are cooler than the person you are on a date with? And he did not even drink and does not drink. I do not trust people who do not drink ... because I feel like they are judging. So it was a sober moobs date.

The bad part is, I know he really liked me. I feel bad but I cannot do the moobs. I just can’t…

The 25-Year-Old Virgin

Let me start with the fact that I am not super sexually experienced. I held off on losing my virginity until I was 25 and dated one guy for a very long time. So now I feel like it is time for me to experience what all of my friends experienced in their early 20s in my late 20s. (Safely of course). I almost wish I had just done it when I was 19 so these things were not such a big deal to me.

But, that did not happen.

So here I am 27 and I have only been with 1 (ok like 1.5 guys) – I decided to not count the 2nd totally because it was a friend and it was just like a drunken hook up. OK, fine … two then but it was to shake off the feelings I had for my ex and make him not the ONLY person I had ever been with. (OK enough justification of him, I promise). When my friends found out that had happened they were basically high fiving me and chest bumping me – they were so proud that I did it with someone else. Which is not usually the reaction friends have to one night stands, but they didn’t really like my ex.

So now it’s hard … what if I am somehow bad at sex?? Waiting until I was 25 was not a good idea because now I want to have it every single day. And now I am single… and I have the sex drive of a raging 12-year-old boy who just hit puberty.

Honestly I didn’t even care about sex until I was 25 – I was like what is the big deal? What is this Thing everyone is talking about and why do people thing it is such a good idea. Arent they scared about getting pregnant or getting herpes or AIDS or one of the million STDs out there? And then I did it. Since I am super OCD, my best friend told me that once I did it. I would probably want to. A lot. And she was right.

So now I am 27 – and newly single. I feel like I am too old to just go out to a bar and meet random men and bring them back to my house. That is what I scolded my girlfriends for when we were 19. Not that I was a TOTAL angel, I just never put out. And honestly I am not ready to get back into a relationship. Not after the one I just got out of, so what’s a girl to do?

I thought that the solution would be an F Buddy. I know that sounds gross but what else can I do. I would rather have sex with someone who was just having sex w me (and if he isn’t – not tell me about it just be safe) and who I like to hang out with. I don’t want any drama that comes with a relationship. Period.

But if it is someone I am just sleeping with and hanging out with …. What is the difference between that and a real boyfriend.

And let’s just say the pool of people my friends have come up with for me to date is not exactly one that I want to dive into. Sometimes I look at those men, and am like REALLY? So I have to go outside of my group to find someone.

So I am kind of in limbo at this point. But my 12-year-old boy libido does NOT like it.

Watch Out for the Big Girls

So I went to a wedding this weekend and I was sitting across from a couple. Mind you, it was me and my friends at the table who have known each other almost ten years – so our interest in talking to anyone else at the table was pretty much limited in general. We chatted with them briefly and then went into our own little gossip filled land of ten years and the antics which had occurred the night prior.

This did not happen without me noticing the couple across from me first. The guy was your average guy who may have been slightly douchey … but let’s be honest, I would’ve dated him. And his girlfriend, well she was just big. Not that I am discriminating. Big girls need love too. But it is a thing I have been noticing more often. And not only was she large, she was not even very nice. She ordered him around and he followed her like a puppy dog.

I am not thin my any means. I am curvy. I always have been. I never have been one of those stick thin girls. But you would not look at me and think – THAT IS A LARGE WOMAN. I even got my bra size fitted the other day and it’s a 34 F … if you do not know how this works. 34 is your ribcage size. F would be the cup size. I am thinking because it was strapless and the girls had to get in. So I was buying a 36DD - Which works with some bras but clearly I was was not fitted properly. And really – what happened to E? Did we just skip E?

Anyways my point is. I am curvy – but range around a size 10 – (and 8 prior to my last boyfriend where we had to eat wings almost every day - which I am working back down to).

I have done some random eRage on my ex. Postings on Do Not Date this Guy.com and Craigslist and a few other sites. Purely out of anger. I may kind of regret it now because it was petty. But I just didn’t want anyone to experience the hurt which I felt again. And a lot of these posts warranted responses. And with said responses came some Google IDs and with said Google IDs came pictures. Pictures of MORE big girls he was sleeping with. Or trying to sleep with. Or had slept with. He also found said postings and let’s just say was less than happy.

Now I had seen many a large woman he had relations with so I just assumed I was safe from cheating. I mean he had his curvy girl regular sized girl at home so why would he look elsewhere. I guess I was wrong.

So after this experience, I have been noticing it more and more. Big girls with seemingly normal sized men. It is everywhere. I guess I don’t get the fetish. Maybe they are really good in bed? Is it that saying – “more cushion for the pushing”? I have no idea.

One of my best guy friends admitted to finding women on sites like Hot or Not and CL and they were Large Marge but he had sex with them anyways and said “It was just a hole.” One woman he said had to be at a 45 degree angle just so he could figure out where to put it. You know it is bad when you cannot locate the hole.

This is not a rant but just an observation. And honestly I have nothing against larger people … I don’t know why my guy would look for a 44DD when he had someone with a 34 at home. I am sure some of these are nice and amazing women and maybe I am just jaded. But a Fat Chick fetish, really?

But my new theme song is “Watch Out for the Big Girls” – just FYI.

UVA Lacrosse Murders: A Case of Domestic Abuse?

Reading about Yeardley Love and her untimely death has struck a chord with me. Someone who seems so young and promising – to have her life taken away at such a young age … it really makes you think. She probably trusted George Huguely and thought he would never act on his threats and certainly that he would never kill her.

This probably seems like just a news story to some people - Another love story gone wrong. But as I am working through the ends of a very violent relationship, it has so much more meaning to me.

I always wanted to go to UVA when I was a kid. Being a Virginia native, it is our version of the Ivy League and it is widely respected across the nation. I proudly displayed UVA cheerleading Barbie on my TV stand until I was 17-years-old for inspiration and visited the beautiful Charlottesville campus. It is such a lovely town – everything from the landscape to the people are picturesque. I ended up going to UVA’s rival, Virginia Tech, when I decided that it was just a bit too preppy for me in Charlottesville and Blacksburg would be a better fit. For the record, I never regretted that choice, but I have always had a respect for UVA and the education offered there.

This is another reason the story hit home for me. On top of being a victim of recent domestic abuse, it is a place I know and have visited. I even went there with my ex-boyfriend and abuser a year ago for the Dave Matthews concert. It is sad to think of this magnitude of crime happening there.

The final time I was assaulted, I could have died. This was the first time I actually really and honestly feared for my life. After over a year of threats and violent behavior – throwing things, breaking things, yelling, pushing, etc. – this time it escalated. It got worse every time, but this was the pinnacle of the abuse ... I was almost suffocated. I had marks on my neck. I was strangled. Choked. There was a distinct handprint on my arm. He had one hand over my mouth and one covering my nose and I remember thinking, "Is this really how I am going to die?" I was lucky. It was not.

Never before this night in March 2010 did I really think that my life was at risk. In reality, every single time we fought it was. I can say from experience, you do not see how dangerous things are when you are in a domestic violence situation. Let's be honest, we never think that someone we love could hurt or even kill us. I didn’t even tell my friends about the abuse until my ex threw a hammer at me which left a massive bruise on my abdomen that my best friend discovered. I tried to keep it a secret. I lied for him.

Now I look back and think how stupid that was. Why in the world would I lie for someone who was hurting me? George Huguely’s attorneys are saying that her death was “an accident with a tragic outcome.” I am calling bullshit. This guy killed her. Sure, there may have been alcohol involved or maybe she even fought back. But he is the reason for her death. Nothing is an excuse to harm someone else.

It is sad and scary to think that my life could have ended a few months ago as “an accident with a tragic outcome” – I don’t think that my ex even ever really intended to kill me … but it almost happened. Sure, he would threaten to "knock my teeth out" or "throw me over the balcony" but I never gave those threats any clout. Yeardley Love must felt the same way about her email threats. Our frequent fights and abuse could have easily escalated as quickly as the one that Love and Huguely had and I could have died.

How many other women are in the same situation that I was and not speaking up? How long did Yeardley Love see the patterns of abuse and not say anything?

This has been the hardest past few months of my life. Not only is mourning the loss of a relationship difficult, but especially an abusive one. If nothing, reading this story had made me thankful that it was not me. But I am also hopeful that it makes other women in abusive situations think about the fact that they may be the next “tragic accident” and to reach out to their friends and family for support so that they can get the help that they need.

Washinton Post Article"

Would You Like a Threesome?

A few months ago when RG and I had our initial split, but were still kinddddd of together just not really seeing one another, I went out with some friends. It was this girl’s birthday who worked with my friend Britt and we volunteered to take her out since she lost all of her friends to her baby daddy when she moved out of his house. Whatever – I am trying not to judge and it was an excuse to party.

So, Britt and her overly dramatic 40-year-old with six kids boyfriend come over along with her friend, Gina. We go out to the local bars by my house – which isn’t anything too crazy but if you want to get ripped and not have to worry about a long ride or an expensive cab … or not making it to your own bed, it is a realistic option.

Britt and her boyfriend fight … they fight A LOT. Every time we go anywhere they are in a fight about something ridiculous. Mind you, if I am 40 and doing the things he is doing – I will not be happy about where my life has taken me. This time, he gets some of his equally old friends and decides to try to make Britt jealous by flirting with some other women. I guess it worked because she was pissed. Really mature.

So we meet another older couple at the bar. The woman is pretty but seems a little crazy and then man is older in his mid-40’s and looks like he has smoked one too many Marlboro Reds in his day. But they were fun! So naive Holly that I am, I invite them back to my house for some late night drinking and give them my phone number. The more the merrier, right?

Um, wrong.

These people come back to my house and seem to be having the best time ever. The man informs me that he is on the Executive board at the local school district and she is a Special Ed teacher. I proceeded to tell him that was “Awesome – my mom works in Fairfax schools! And I know a ton of teachers in the school district!!! Yayyyy!” This is when he decided that it was time for him to leave. He finds his Lady friend sitting on Britt’s lap in the living room – which was an odd thing to do but I did not really think anything of it at the time.

They leave and this is when things kind of spiral out of control. Spence decides that Britt was trying to sleep with this older couple and that she is a lesbian. He proceeds to yell at her until 5 am on my balcony and cry about her lesbian tendencies. After some begging and pleading for them to come back in, they finally did. But not after my neighbors (who probably really like me after the multitude of domestic disputes which have happened the past 1.5 years) heard the screaming.

I finally get everyone into bed. Britt and Spence are in the guest bedroom, which has no door due to an incident where I did not hang up my coat properly and RG decided my punishiment would be to rip off my laundry room doors and throw them around and then kick through the guest bedroom door – the room I had locked myself in to hide from him. Oh well, they didn’t need a door, right? Wrong again.

I get into bed and get a call from an unknown number. When I pick it up it is the woman who was here with her old boyfriend….

Me: “Hello?”

Chick: “Hi …. What are you doing we are trying to come back over and party….”

Me: “ Well it is 5 am so I think I am just going to go ahead and go to sleep but um, we are going to brunch tomorrow and we can call you then?”

Chick: “That would be great but we want to party now.”

Me: “Since everyone is in bed, I think I am just going to head to sleep and nobody else is up so that would be a bad plan …"

Chick: “My boyfriend thinks you are hot.”
Me: “Um, thanks ??”

(Gross!)

Chick: “We could come over and just play in your room … what are you wearing?”

This was totally unprecedented. What? Did I give off some kind of threesome vibe? She proceeded to tell me that Britt seemed totally into it and had lots of threesomes in the past (this ended up being true and that is why her boyfriend was so upset and thought she was a lesbian). I guess Spence was not making it up when he said that the two chicks were heavy petting on the porch. So I guess the chick assumed that meant I was into it too?

I finally got off the phone with this woman after I promised to call her for brunch about 4 times – which I did not. When I went to tell Britt that she has just called to proposition me, she and her boyfriend were mid makeup sex in my doorless guest bedroom.

I turned around, went back to bed and hid under the covers. How did my home turn into a brothel?

People can have their interests and if threesomes are one of them, that is fine … I just don’t want to be involved. Oh and if you would like to bone in my guest bedroom wait until there is a door – and PLEASE strip the sheets when you are done.

And if I was going to pick a couple to have a threesome with - it would definitely NOT be those people.

Am I a Prude?

I know I have mentioned this before. But sometimes I just think that people are sluts. Women, men, old people, young people. It does not really matter. This bothers me. A lot. The Internet has also practically ruined dating for anyone … maybe I am a little jaded right now, but my feelings of hostility towards casual hookup sites and Criaigslist are ones that are accompanied by feelings of disgust.

Let me first put out there that the last straw with RG came not only with abuse, but with the discovery of many email and text correspondences that he was having with strange women he met on the Internet. Some of which had very questionable values. Don’t get me wrong, people can find love online – it’s 2010 and people are busy. But he was being highly inappropriate. And he had a girlfriend. Me.


I was always suspect of his overuse of the phone and saw a few things when we first started dating that were from girls he said he was seeing before – the occasional ‘hey sexy’ 2 AM texts or things along those lines. He always had an excuse and reason for where they were from. Then, last summer, I made a gruesome discovery. We got into a pretty heinous fight where more of my things were broken and I was pushed down and he threatened to call one of my best friends to tell her she was a horrible person (or something along those lines). He then got in the shower and I went to check his phone to make sure he had not dialed and she had heard our nasty fight … I was still trying to hide things at this point. This is when I found highly inappropriate texts to an unsaved number where he was texting about blow jobs and how he thought this woman should come to his work.

I confronted RG about this and he said he felt terrible – it was a woman he met years ago at the beach and they would sometimes dirty text… and oh yeah the other number on there he was texting was someone who used to try to date him. I didn’t even SEE that number at the time. So he agreed to change his phone number and I thought that he really must have felt bad and it was a one off. I was allowed to see his email and facebook and even found multiple other convos where he was trying to meet women while we had been dating but it was in the beginning and he swore it stopped.
Now I feel like an idiot. Odd things kept happening and I ignored it. Weird pics of himself sent to an unknown email. A few clandestine texts, he told me he could not chat at work but was ALWAYS online.

So we end up getting into it hardcore a few months ago and I go to check my email – on MY computer, mind you. And there it is. His email with all kinds of CL emails on it. I felt like a crazy person, but I forwarded myself all the evidence I would need. One even stated he cheated on me with an older lady on Valentine’s Day – a day he decided to be a HUGE dick to me. Another was an email about “roses” and how many it would take to get a blow job. Attached were pics of a woman who stated she was a 44 DD – and this mind you, was a LARGE lady. I later found out that “roses” were a secret term for dollars and this woman was a hooker. Good.

So, I decided to email some of these women and ask what their relationship was with RG. Mind you, this was not the first time I had seen suspect things and sent emails to strange women to see what they were doing with my boyfriend. I even emailed the hooker. It was a low point in my life. One girl came back and said that they had never met – all the girls I talked to had never met him – but he did send her pics of his genitals and she never knew he had a girlfriend. They would also have phone sex after work which was really nice. The strange thing is, it is not like he was not getting laid at home.

Everything came to a head when my girlfriends and I put on a charity event a back in March. A girl was in the audience and noticed large bruises on my arms. I had never met this girl. A mutual friend informed her I had a bad boyfriend who I had recently broken up with and it was probably from that. It was as I had been assaulted a few days prior for the last time. Somehow it came up this man played rugby my friend and her husband knew him. The girl admitted that she had been on a date with him and when their names came up (a long time ago ) – he said he had a girlfriend. (Me).

Of course he denied this, but the funny thing to me was – this woman was the polar opposite of me: A large black woman. The kicker was – he was a total racist! I am by no means against interracial dating but not when one party is the man who lives with me.

When I found this out, I made a retaliation CL post stating that since my boyfriend used this site to try to get laid, I could post too. And some CRAZY people responded. And let’s just say … they didn’t want to talk about the weather. I quickly closed that email account and have not discussed it since. But Really? What are these men hoping to get? And the emails that these women were responding to RG with were equally offensive and included pics as well. I don’t know about you, but if a strange man (who is not exactly packing) sends me genital pics, I am probably not going to talk to him anymore. Maybe he is right, maybe I am a judgmental prude? But if a prude doesn’t send naughty pics, I am quite okay with that.

To New Beginnings

Things have gotten a lot better for me over the past few weeks. My rage blackouts at RG have become few and far between and I have started to look to the future. It is a great feeling … I don’t know if it’s the new meds I ended up having to take or the fact that the abusive man I was involved at has moved out of my home. Maybe it is both?

Although, somehow I always find the crazy doctors. In my quest to better myself and get through this time, I have sought the help of a psychiatrist. A lot of women who have dealt with domestic abuse have suffered Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and need some sort of mental health plan. So, of course I go the route where I can look for someone to give me some good pills. But I also want to make sure I never get duped into an abusive relationship again.

Let’s just say, that only I could find a psychiatrist this out of control. She is older with a shorn lesbian haircut dyed a bright, bright red. Her suits are always a bit too tight and missing a button or have some sort of McDonald’s snack wrap stain on them and when I turned around the other week to say goodbye, she was openly picking her front wedgie … I can honestly say that this is not something you want your mental health provider to do in front of you. Then again, sometimes she looks like she is stoned and about to fall asleep during some appointments.

Regardless, I am starting to feel like a whole new person. Going to the Domestic Violence group has been really eye opening. These women’s lives are ruined by abusive men. One woman, D, has been abused for 40 years (she is only 47) and her husband shot himself while sitting next to her on her bed – now she is homeless and just does not want to lose her cat – which attacked her. Even D’s cat is abusive. Another woman was assaulted at Disney World with her two children. A third woman is foreclosing on her home after she and her daughter were assaulted after 15 years of emotional abuse and she called the cops, resulting in her husband losing his job.

It is interesting because these women are all in different stages. Some are angry and bitter. Some are hurt and sad. Many are just plain scared. I can identify every single feeling these women are having and it makes me mad that someone could treat another human being like that. But listening to some else say it has given me so much perspective. My life is not ruined and I am not going to let it happen.

I am lucky because my friends supported me through all of this and helped me to get out of it. They even had a party for me last weekend and totally redid my condo to purge all the memories of RG and it looks AMAZING. I know it has been hard for them but they are the reason I can get through this and become a better person.

Some of these women have no friends and no place to go. I cannot even imagine how that would be.

Maybe I was supposed to go through this. So I can help someone. If I could help just one woman through something like this, it would be amazing. I know how hard it is and you cannot explain it. I don’t think that means I should adopt D and her cat just yet (although the thought did cross my mind). But I can assure you, I will never ever allow anyone to treat me like this again and I will make every effort to help other women who are in a situation like this.

It is also a little exciting to be single again. I can do what I want and when I want and not worry about anyone else. So I think that this summer is going to be awesome.

On a Serious Note

Anyone who knows me knows I am not really a serious person. I love tend to be a jokester and am pretty dry – some may say even witty. Recently I have been dealing with some things that ended up being pretty serious and I wanted to use this venue to talk about them.

I ended a relationship with a very abusive man a few weeks ago. This happened to be my first “real” boyfriend and the first person I ended up being intimate with. Let me first say, if any other friend, acquaintance, relative or anyone I saw on the street had experienced even 10% of the things I did, I would think that they were crazy for putting up with it. Why would a woman put up with someone who was physically, mentally and emotionally abusive? And on top of that would try to talk to strange women on the Internet? (This could be a very special and funny blog post of its own because some of it is pretty entertaining … and pathetic.)

I have always prided myself on being independent. I do not need a man! Anyone who would need one was pathetic – or so I thought before. Then this person came into my life and moved into my home and I saw that, for the first time, I was nurturing. I wanted a family and to spend the rest of my life with someone who loved me and I considered my best friend -Although not someone who would try to get a hooker for a blowie on Craigslist. I don’t ask for a lot, but the No Hookers Rule is a prereq for me.

So I am coming out of this experience with more emotions than I have ever had about anything. Some days I want to rage. Some days I am sad. And some days, I plain just do not care. Every day gets a little easier, but it’s hard to explain.

After months of trying to vocalize my feelings to my girlfriends, I have reached out to find other support. Don’t get me wrong, my friends are amazing and did exactly what I would have done in the situation. But explaining what you feel to someone who has not been through it is absolutely impossible.

This past Monday I went to a group for victims of domestic abuse. I hate saying the word “victim” but that is what it is. It is a small and only about eight women were there. The amazing thing to me was – you can get all these women in a room that are so diverse. Everyone had a different background and different socioeconomic situation. But the story was exactly the same, just in different places. The patterns and signs of abuse do not change and it manifests itself in the same ways.

The hard thing is – I still love him. Someone who would hurt me so much physically and emotionally should not be someone I care about at all. But I do. I know that will change one day and I am waiting for it!

On a good note, this experience has made me want to do something positive for myself and focus on me this Spring …. And losing this relationship weight. So I am going to start running and train for a 5k – then maybe more. I am not much of an athlete and except for cheerleading and a Zeta flag football team in college (which I only joined under the pretense that we would also be drinking), I have not really been involved in anything which requires any sort of skill or coordination, so it should be funny.

So here’s to Spring and new beginnings!!!!!!!!!!

Breaking Up is Hard to Do

For those of you who do not know, I am no longer Cohabitation Girl. Nor am I Relationship Girl. Now I am just Regular Single Holly. It is actually really weird after two years of dating someone. This is my first “real” break up and, let’s just say, it has not ended on good terms by any means. Nasty heinous fights, bouts of violence and some ambiguous Craigslist postings and correspondences were involved (not from me) – but we can get into that at another time.


So – how to be single again?

Last night I went to meet my friend Britt for dinner. To preface, Britt and I have been friends for over ten years. I met her when I was the ripe young age of 16 when she was a much older, wiser 18. I was totally jealous of her ability to not have a curfew and legally buy cigarettes at any location she chose. SHE didn’t have to drive 20 minutes away to the Mercado - where they did not ask for ID and forced you to put all of your nicotine purchases in a brown paper bag as to avoid the local policia who were waiting for minors to exit. My mom LOVES Britt – even though I have told her countless stories about how she was the one to introduce me to anything illegal I have ever seen. Not that this is an issue now and it does not seem to impact my mother’s opinion of her. But at 16, she was not the best influence I could have had. Regardless, we have had some pretty funny times growing up together.

Britt lives pretty far out in the country so we agreed to meet in between our houses for dinner. This happens to be right next to where I went to high school so I end up seeing many people who have not left the area and feel the need to immediately tell them I went to college and have a real job when I see them. Regardless, the area has grown a lot in the past ten years since my attendance at what was known at one point as “Corn Field High” and there are many cute, young professionals who work and live there.

Of course, Britt was running late and I had to wait at the bar. This was the first time since my messy break up with Rugby Guy where I have been to a bar alone and actually felt single. It was like stepping into Narnia. I looked around and there were so many men. Men in suits. I don’t know about you, but nothing is hotter than a young professional man right after he gets off work and takes off his tie and is sitting down to relax. They still look authoritative and professional but like they can still have fun. I also work in the software industry, so suits are few and far between.

I got a glass of wine and then sat. Alone. At the bar. I used to have to wait alone at bars all the time for friends before RG and it never bothered me. And then when you I had a boyfriend, I didn’t really care. I honestly didn’t even look at the men around me or notice if they were checking me out. (This is something that RG was clearly not doing when he was alone at bars with strange women) But this time it was different. I felt like it was a meat market. Any of these men could be my soulmate. I probably should have actually dried my hair!

My legs were shaky like a baby fawn trying to walk again. I made awkward eye contact with every man in the bar and could not decide if they were looking at me because they knew I was not comfortable or because of “The Girls” I had prominently displayed prior to leaving my house. In the past, I have tried to compensate for my lack of flirting with the addition of a DD cup – so when I left the house I knew I had to arm myself with something.

The worst part? Every conversation on every side of me involved someone talking about marriage or babies. Of course.

After 20 minutes of fumbling with my iPhone and shifting uncomfortably in my stool, Britt arrived and announced she wanted to eat at the bar. Luckily there were no seats and I quickly ushered her to the back dining room where there were only families and people over the age of 55.

I am really going to have to work on this Single Bar Time. Or start to collect cats.

No More MIA Holly

OK So I took a small hiatus from blogging (and actually started another secret blog since my identity was given up on this one - It is a long story) But, I am back to blog. Writing is therapeutic for me and for all six of you who actually care what I am doing, I think I have some funny stuff going on ... So I posted a few things I wrote while on hiatus and then I will update you on the important things which have been going on in my life. You know you miss me ;)

August 2009: Baby Time?

OK, I am kind of a hypochondriac. I think it’s because when I grew up my mom was always telling me that things would give me cancer. Come to think of it, she still is. Just a few weeks ago I was sitting on her deck reading “InStyle” on a relaxing Saturday afternoon as I waited on her to get ready and she screamed from her bedroom window, which overlooks the back deck of her townhouse “CANCER! THE SUN IS BAD!” Looking back on the fact - I realize why I have analyzed every mole since I was 11, avoided microwaves and had a fear of cell phones until I was 20.

Last week it was not so much a cancer scare for once – I decided I was pregnant. Even though my friends assured me I was not (what do THEY know??), I thought it was time to take a test. I had to go to the store regardless to get stuff for dinner so it was not inconvenient or anything to pick one up. Along with sex comes a host of things that can be scary, especially for a hypochondriac such as myself: Diseases. Babies. Yes, EVEN CANCER.

I made a list before I went to the store:
1) Steak
2) Sweet potatoes
3) HPT
4) Wine

HPT = Home Pregnancy Test. Is it weird that anytime I have to buy something even remotely embarrassing at the store I abbreviate what it is just in case someone else sees it?

So I get all the things on my list and then covertly walk over to the HPT aisle. I casually begin scanning the tests. Of course everything in that section is pretty embarrassing so regardless of if I tried to make it look like I was involved in a causal lube purchase or getting an HPT, there would still be judgment. There are so many tests – which one do I get!? I was deciding between a mid-priced one and one that was hot pink with directions in Spanish for $8.00. Why is it that no friends write back to you when you are making important decisions!? I concluded that this probably was not the time to cheap out and I picked a test.

Now on to the wine section! I did not even think about the implications of perusing the wine aisles with a pregnancy test in my cart. (It was for celebration in case I wasn’t!) – I also had put some beer in the cart for my boyfriend, Todd, and found some special beer we had tried at a beer festival (also in cart next to test).

Then a man stops me and asks, “Would you like to do some wine tasting?”… My natural response was “YES, I was just about to make an alcohol decision actually!” - I love it when they do wine tastings at the grocery store. It is like a little haven amidst the chaos of babies and mothers barreling around picking out groceries and stressed out men who are clearly in trouble with their wives buying flowers and wine. Don’t even get me started on the kid sized carts they offer for children to drive. Those things are dangerous. An oasis of wine is just what I need!

The woman next to me smiles a friendly smile as the man fills up my tiny cup of wine. And then I see her eyes shift to the cart. Shit! The pregnancy test is practically glowing on top of my groceries. What do I do?? I could tell her it was for my sister – it’s not for me. Or tell her that I did not even think I was pregnant; I am just doing it for good measure. I fumble around and try to put the steaks over the test – I also dropped a thing of mushrooms and had to chase them across the floor. People began to crowd around the wine tasting. This is ridiculous, there was ONE woman here when I came up and now I am totally surrounded. I have to get out. I have the man pour the tiny wine pours as fast as he can and I throw them back like shots. When he gives me a quizzical look – I smile at him and beam “I was in a sorority,” this excuse works well for everything. All this and I am considering the impacts of the tiny wine shots if I really am pregnant. Don’t they say it’s okay to have a glass of red wine a day? Wait, maybe that is for your heart?!?! I don’t know!!!

I rushed out of the store and ran home straight to the bathroom. I had to make sure I was not going to cause Fetal Alcohol Syndrome. That SECOND, I got my monthly visitor. Of course.

It’s pretty safe to say that if hypochondria can set in about my unborn theoretical baby, my mom did her job well. Thanks, Mom. When I really am pregnant you will have to deal with the repercussions of daily questions.

August 2009: Who Am I?

What happens after you turn 25? I always thought you fell into this abyss of married “grown up” people with babies who were so terribly boring I never even wanted to talk about them. These people clearly did not go out 4 nights a week and drink copious amounts of Peach Andre and raspberry vodka until they made a slurred call to the sorority DD to come pick them up downtown. They had “jobs” and “homes” and paid their own cell phone bills and car insurance and EVERYTHING.

I am now one of those people. A grown up. Well, kind of.

It seems like just yesterday I was sitting in my college apartment with my roommates watching “The Real World Road Rules Challenge” (or anything MTV aired) on an endless loop and waking up at 11 every day (anything earlier than this was CRAZY talk). And now I work at a software company!? I’m not going to lie; I could barely navigate the internet in college, let alone tell you there was a difference between software and hardware. Yet, here I am. I have officially been working for FOUR years and am on my third “real job”. That’s as long as I was IN college.

Every time I think about that I officially feel old. The funny thing is I don’t feel grown up at all. I own my own place. The guy I have been dating for over a year lives with me. I do normal things like grocery shopping and pay my bills and I typically cannot go out for more than two glasses of wine on a week night without it resulting in a killer headache the following day. It’s like I have all the elements of being a suburban housewife in place but they don’t totally align. I am too young to be a real housewife - People are not housewives at 26!

And trust me; with the daily situations I find myself in … I am pretty sure that I am not ready to be a real grown up. Not yet at least.