Writers. Block. Ugh!! At this point I feel starved. I NEED to write just like I need air. So what is it? I can attribute a definite amount to jaw pain. According to the professionals, I clench my jaw and grind my teeth in my sleep. Wearing a night guard for a few weeks, no chewing gum (hello mints, my new BFF), and taking 1800 mg of ibuprofen a day should eliminate the problem. Until then… I wait. 

But you know what I keep thinking? Wayne Dyer. “There’s a spiritual solution to every problem.” For some reason I can’t let that thought go. And I wonder, “what inside me is clogged up?”  It’s gotta be a matter of the heart. Everything else in my life is freaking stellar. Nothing is wrong. Maybe that’s it. Maybe I’m not hurt OR overjoyed. Maybe it isn’t writers block at all; maybe it’s balance. Ok, it doesn’t feel good so even I can’t buy that load of crap. But it’s true. Nothing is wrong, things are going well in all areas. I want to get up early every day my jaw doesn’t hurt and race to work! I got my dog licking me and just started season one of Sex and the City. Could I be any happier? (That was my best Chandler Bing)

Yes, truth is I could. And if I really get down to it, I’m still kinda…I don’t know what the exact feeling is. It goes back to the lying sack of crap who led me on for weeks. This from the cheater posting crap on his Facebook like he wants want more conversation with someone up in heaven. Well what would they say about your ways here on earth?! Think on that, ass hat! Ok, yes, I finally broke down to see what he had posted. A bit o’cyber stalking. (Still in style since 1999.) And deep down I hear a very faint whisper saying “hahaha bless your broken heart, you can’t pick a good one to save your life! All you find are crap bags!” And dear god, it’s true. As much as I do not want to listen to that voice within, maybe I need to. And so then I start thinking of the most recent and go back down the line. I haven’t dated a decent dude in a good couple of years. Nearly three. Crazy, selfish, creepy, lying, and more issues than Oprah Magazine is a brief summary of 2013, 2014, & 2015.

I did something this weekend. I reached out to what I think is a nice guy I met almost a month ago. We are going out Saturday. Half of me is hopeful and half of me thinks I need a back up plan. I’m really trying not to listen to the voice that says give up, you aren’t going to find someone, stop trying. Hope is dead. 

Something else I did this weekend? Bought a new Tag Heuer. Yeah, I was going to use the income from roommate to pay off a credit card and save more. Well, now I’m just paying two and saving none. But this thing is tight! And for a few minutes every day I look at it and think, “you go girl. You have some serious issues picking out the worst men in the universe, but damn you got diamonds on your timepieces!” So yeah, I’m really bad at______

AHA!!!!!!!!!! OH. MY. GOD. THAT IS THE ISSUE. I LIKE BEING GOOD AT THINGS. I DON’T ENJOY BEING ALONE, YET MY KRYPTONITE IS THE ABILITY TO FIND A WORTHY SUITOR. 

Pause. 

And no wonder me and my brain refuse to ‘bye Felicia’ (yes, I just made that a verb) and move on. I feel like I made a mistake. I did, but then again, he’s a slimy snake pretending to be a bunny rabbit! How could one know any sooner?! I’m holding myself hostage over other people’s problems. I got problems, but difference is I am not hiding behind lies or guilt. I am who and what I am. Most days, that’s a damn good person (accessoried nicely with a Tag Heuer). Ok, let’s put the Tag purchase on front street: should I have financed jewelry for 60 months?! Hell, NO. Only a wedding ring should be……<— and would you lookie there, the truth fell out. I believe in wedding rings costing enough to finance for five years, but not something for myself that I love and work for every day. 

Now does that make any sense?! I am fully committed to wearing these watches for the next decade. Or two. They are classy and timeless. (Get it?) Yet in that sentence I just valued relationship a higher priority than buying something nice for myself. Whew. Revelations are coming forth. So much to think about now. 

I just finished an intense two day workshop courtesy of MGM Resorts. It’s called Diversity Champions but that hardly does it justice. It’s more like “we go to any extreme to get you to come out of your comfort zone and see someone else’s perspective.” 

When I arrived home, I had a box with a surprise pair of Converse high tops inside with no card. Blew my mind! Who did this? I have a guess. So far, silence. 

So I was parading around and taking selfies with my new shoes when I looked in the mirror and thought, “Damn, I’m a catch.” And that sounds very egotistical but that’s how I roll. Because one thing I learned the last two days, is that you have to earn it. Earn it. And damnit, I earned it. 

I earned every pound I lost, every penny I have (few as they may be), every hair I didn’t pull out, and every punch I have been thrown. I earned it. I earned the right to love my job and have the greatest dog ever. I earned the girl who is prissy now (or so they say). I earned it. 

I don’t know if the people in my class will ever know my story or if they just see a smiling face. They may judge me. Maybe they think I’m so happy cause I have things easy. But I earned it. I always go back to “don’t judge the rainbow just because you missed the tornado.” Yes, life is beautiful now. The next chapter will come and be filled with its own hardship but for now I’m riding the wave of happiness. 

I recently wrote and abandoned a blog called Pain Changes Us.  While the blog was good, it felt incomplete.  Forward to last night.  After half a bottle of Pinot Noir [holy crap, welcome to my life you little red devil and mad props to our sommelier for bringing that into my life], I went to a Trace Adkins show.  Some of the songs I knew.  And then he started, “Every Light in the House is On.”  I gauged the audience.  I saw people instantly cheer in recognition and start swaying and singing the song with Trace.  And I saw how emotional the collective audience became.  Me?  I realized I sang along but while I tried to find the original emotion I recalled having to the song when it was new, I came up empty.  

Who would I leave the lights on for?  [Sadie; the answer is Sadie]  The song I actually related to most was something about finding middle ground between Jesus and George Jones.  Being a weird, artsy type of person, the remainder of the show I watched how music touched people on an emotional level.  And then I went to a lounge and the nightclub, and watched the same thing.  I knew the lyrics to just about every song, and people would react in a way that I seemed to recall once feeling, but it was lost on me.  I Facebook’d the observation that when you don’t have love, love songs mean less.  Followed up by the comment this morning, “I heard songs all night and recalled music used to make me think of a name, face, smell, feeling or SOMETHING. But not anymore. I have nothing to attach them to. It was semi-relieving. I don’t think I’m missing it.”

And that’s when it all came full circle: the blog about pain changing us and my reaction to music, once upon a time music alone could get into places inside me nothing else could.  Since late 2013, my heart has trusted people and then absolutely shattered when they broke that trust.  Most recently, Tuesday.  Upon hearing that I’d been lied to just about all summer, I sank.  For about an hour I held back tears and I thought, “damn, you can’t trust anyone these days.”  I even considered just giving up on the entire world for a moment and jumping off a parking garage! But the reality is that I didn’t want life to end, I wanted to NEVER, EVER feel that feeling inside me for the duration of my life.  Whatever was left inside of me that resembled hope for finding someone was completely abolished that moment I found out I’d trusted someone who was nothing but a lying sack of dog crap [and even my Sadie’s dog crap is too good for some people, he being one].  

And yes, I’m getting very personal but this isn’t about the bad people, it’s about what grown people do to one another.  40 is swiftly approaching.  I don’t play the games and quite frankly was not very clever at them anyway; it always felt deceitful.  I am who I am, take it or leave it.  [I do believe I’ve noted previously that apparently most opt to leave]  And in the case of Tuesday?  Well, that’s best summarized in two words:  BYE FELICIA!  How some people walk around living with themselves is beyond me.  As for me, my head is high because I’m proud of what I’ve done, where I’ve been, where I come from, what I have, and yes, the things and people I have lost.  It was all great learning experience.  And I’m so very happy today.  

So maybe there is a part of me that died.  Maybe when when we grieve a piece of us does in fact die with every heartbreak.  I didn’t think that before, but I realize that’s what has happened.  And I’m so happy about it.  It feels like a weight is lifted.  I won’t fall to my knees and sob because of a man ever again.  No one will ever get the chance to get close enough to hurt me and that is nothing to be upset about.  That’s a bold strategy.  It goes against everything I’ve ever thought up to this point, but pain changes us.  Hurt people, hurt people…or so they say.  So stop hurting.  I no longer hurt.  Personally, I feel more alive, more creative, more confident, more beautiful, and more engaged with life than ever before.  Fix your broken ass self-esteem, get some integrity and values in your life, take your pills or get on some, and be a respectable human.  It’s your job.  The universe lets you breathe every single day and have unlimited potential while here and the absolute best some of you can manage is to be a sack of crap? Shame on you.  

You know what? In a matter of a week I have been reminded twice that people can truly hurt you. But I look at them and have nothing but gratitude. I thank them for teaching me life lessons. I walk with my head high because while I’m not perfect, I am exactly who I claim to be and never aim to deceive or hurt someone. I do not always succeed; I am human. I am so very blessed beyond words. In fact, I am sorry for them. How sad it must be to avoid peoples eyes and be so bitter and unhappy that you MUST bring others misery. You can’t feel real joy going around doing that. 
I actually googled the psychology behind deceit and lies to see if I could gain insight. (I also have ADD and after a bunch of statistics, I closed the browser😁). After my initial hurt dissipated, I thought, “how and why would you do that?!” 

But in the end I know it isn’t about me. Hurt people hurt people, they say. I think that’s true. Again, I’d shake their hands today and tell them a hearty thank you for letting me see what was going on so I could be pushed to something greater. THANK YOU! The universe obviously has something better in store for me. I ain’t got time to figure you out [took me 30+ years to do me] so let me just bless your (shady, jacked up) heart and rejoice in all I love about my life. May they find happiness and peace. 

I have developed a new way of knowing who is and isn’t right for me. It’s mathematically based, so I feel like it is a true eureka moment. I call it the Dating Algorithm and I think it will make my future endeavors into the world of romance less painstaking and brutal. 

First off, there are two kinds of men in this world. Type A is the guy who drools over you and when sleeping over doesn’t care how much of the mattress space he gets-be it a sliver or a substantial slice-as long as he’s next to you. I should have married Type A. And everyone else is Type B, he wants to be comfortable and when it comes time to sleep, have enough room to do so. To begin to narrow down these guys, every man becomes a fraction; a numerical representation of how much space he will need. It is not 100% to scale, it is merely a value assigned for reduction. 

Why is this a solid means of analyzing the dating pool? Well, as I lay here enjoying 100% of the bed in silence, it hits me that to avoid any loneliness and gain pleasure  with a mate, I am going to have to give up part of my 100% domination of the mattress at some point. And really, life boils down to who is worthy of such sacrifice.  Obviously body type is the starting point. The smaller the dude, the less I give up. The bigger the guy…ok, you get it. To make me look fair, I’ll say we start at 50% across the board and then begin attrition. 

Further examining the plethora of Type B men available, some rules become evident to me. Baby Mama Drama? Hmm, that’s cutting at least an extra 30%. Why? Because though he will be sleeping (and probably snoring) quite well, this seems like a situation where I lose sleep. This now becomes a 80/20 mattress. Whoa. He better be rich, good-looking, and handle a sports car better than me cause 20% is too low. 

While we are on the subject of mama, Mommy Issues, Emotional Unavailability (my forte), narcissism (a close second as my natural gift), and commitment issues are pretty substantial. That’s a pretty big chunk. Those guys are coming into a relationship trying to work those matters out. This means they unintentionally end up stealing more than their fair share. Shoo shoo. Not worth my lack of comfort and draining me emotionally to try to make you feel whole. Go lay in your bed…alone…for like a decade… until you sort your twisted mind out. 

So now begins the process of analyzing data I receive from anyone I should encounter and sticking to my scale. This is solid research and statistics. Numbers don’t lie. 

😂😉😝 

I am bewildered. My favorite tv show just let me down. Through every era of my life one show has been there to cheer me up-Friends. (Did you REALLY think Firefly was going to go the distance with just one season?! That isn’t a rock to lean on; that show is a tease!) 

Since high school, Friends has always made real life go away for a few minutes while I absorb myself into the totally fake and impossible lives of the six pals living in NYC. I’ve been watching the seasons all over again since my last break up. Yes, that long. And here I am in season 8, episode 5 when out of nowhere the show I rely on to keep reality at bay comes out of the TV and jerks my heart around. 

See, the thing is, I had a huge crush on a sous chef recently and I’m a little bit tender where he almost got in. This is not the kind of crap I need from my favorite show. I expect no reminder of my pain when I am zoning out eating pizza and candy. Bleh. 

 On top of that, Sadie needs to go to the doctor in the morning. I am almost finished moving my stuff into my new room. At least one good thing came out of this horrible day. 

In need of inspiration, I looked back on my phone for some pictures I had saved of uplifting quotes. I found some. And then, there was a picture he had sent from Afghanistan November 2013. It’s creeping up on two years since I received that picture. And yet, before I could stop it, tears filled my eyes and a pain hit me like it was yesterday. I thought I had deleted them. There’s only a couple of pictures of us even together. From Italy… 

Oh, how the heart doesn’t forget. The mind slips, but the heart doesn’t forget. That’s why I have to bow out of the search for love. If it comes looking for me, tell it I moved. Tell love I haven’t been seen in quite some time. And if I see Cupid, I’ll use some self defense moves and have his own arrow to his little cherub neck before he knows what hit him. 

I thought I saw Cupid coming a couple weeks ago. Turns out I was wrong. Trusted this guy. He is smart and cute. I was very excited and very hopeful. All the more reason to tidy up this broken heart, board it up, and hang a no trespassing sign. Visitors not welcome. I’m not even sure who broke it this bad and when. I just know I can’t relive the pain of something failing one more time. I’m too old. No more Italy. I barely survived. 

I have a great life. If I can numb this little pain inside one last time and never let anyone in again, I’ll be the happiest person on earth.  

I wish I had been born a pretty little fool. A woman who needed a man. I could and likely would have found one. I was not fortunate enough. Instead, I was always strong-willed and in charge of creating my own happiness. A woman who wants a man and doesn’t need one is quite lonely.