Belize vs. a Braves Game

I've been deprived when it comes to the materialistic perks of dating. I've been a contestant in this game for almost 12 years and I think a guy has only paid for dinner almost 12 times. I've received flowers only twice; especially nice gestures from especially uninteresting men. Two more guys thought of me at Christmas. One regifted a candle set. But the other gave me several books I had been eyeing at Barnes and Noble. I've been on two trips with guys I was dating; once to a Hawks game and another to a Braves game. Both were approximately 20 miles round trip from my house; hardly enough to make a difference in my Delta SkyMiles.

My buddy recently returned from a cruise to Mexico and more. I assumed he went with friends or family. Nope. He went with his recently acquired "lady friend". Ugh! I was with Braves game guy for 12 months before that trip. I'm baffled at how this girl went to Belize after less than 6!

Belize vs. a Braves Game! There's obviously no comparison!

I'm digging deep, but I honestly can't pinpoint why I'm not the one shopping for sunscreen. It's one of two things, or maybe even a combination of both.

First, I believe that the definition of an "independent woman" fits me like a glove. In fact, at the top of my extremely short list of 'Reasons I Need a Man' is "so someone can help with odd jobs around the house". (The battery in my smoke detector needs changed and I so don't feel like climbing up there to do it!) Perhaps the guys who come in, then go out of my life sense that I don't need them for much, especially a vacation, bouquet of flowers, or Christmas gift. I realize that men need to be needed; I vow to do a better job of letting them feel that way, whether or not it's actually true.

Have you ever dated a guy whose idea of a romantic dinner is warming up leftover Chinese food? That's the story of my life. But I'm confused. Do I just happen to attract these type of men? Or do they turn into this type of men once they meet me?

Whatever the case, I'm not giving up on the idea of a trip with my man that takes us outside of the Perimeter!

Two is Greater than Zero

3 = Months
$14.99 = Total cost
2 = Dates booked

Two is greater than zero, but I was definitely expecting more dates than that from my match.com experience.

My reason for trying "online dating" in the first place was pretty simple. Let's say you go "out"; if it's to a hip place, chances are you'll be surrounded by dozens of single men. But going from simply eyeing one to actually booking a date takes some work. So I figured subscribing to a dating site would make that particular part a little less cumbersome. You're still surrounded by dozens of single men, but at least you get to find out a lot more about them before deciding to put in the work to book a date.

This latest stint wasn't my first time searching for him online, but it'll probably be my last. Although meeting a guy this way is becoming increasingly common, I just can't see myself telling my grandkids the story of seeing their grandpa's profile for the first time!

Good luck to the online daters out there; I didn't find my match on match, but everyone's experience is different. In the meantime, I'm going back to doing it old school - eyeing a guy across the room, sauntering up next to him, grabbing his behind, and seeing what happens from there!

Potty Mouth

My brother and I were taking a casual stroll through our neighborhood. He was probably 12, that would make me around 9. "I dare you to cuss," he taunted. If I remember correctly, I refused. But maybe I did; that was a long time ago.

Fast forward 20 years. While I don't resemble a sailor, I do use 'bad' words on a regular basis. Mostly I use them in the car. My poor kid. I can just imagine her during driving lessons when she's 15 1/2, screaming "Watch out, dumb a**" when someone pulls in front of her. I can't tell you how many "I'm sorry, I shouldn't called that driver a mother f****r" I go through during each car ride.

I am trying to cuss less. Part for the sake of the kid, part for the sake of my vocabulary. I just think there's other things I can say. Such as, "Observe your surroundings more carefully, you tactless, imprudent imbecile!"

I usually don't mind when other adults cuss, even when they do so a lot. But if I'm being honest, I often think those adults could also come up with other things to say.

I recently began talking to a new guy. He's got a potty mouth. He cusses a lot, but he's never inappropriate. All I have to go by right now is our phone conversations. A few days in, I did begin to wonder if he had anything else to say. Then I noticed the most peculiar thing. This man was using 'big' words just as often, if not more, than 'bad' ones! Words like "delectable" and "accentuate" came spewing out of his mouth as easily as the unmentionables.

Now that's what I'm talking about! This man unknowingly just rewrote the 'Code of Cussing'. For each 'bad' word used, one must also use at least one 'big' word!

Hearken, bitches!

Down from the Crane

I need the local newscast like a pregnant woman needs folic acid.

After years of watching Atlanta news a minimum of 2x/day, I've come to realize that like history, the daily news repeats itself every now and then.

"Let his a** f****** jump!"

That's what I screamed at the TV last night when I learned that, yet again, some crazy guy had climbed to the top of a construction crane and threatened to jump. You should have seen the chaos surrounding the attempt to get this wacko down from the crane. APD had a chunk of Peachtree shut down and even inflated one of those gigantic water trampoline thingeys.

My creator cheated me in the area of compassion. But even if I did have my fair share, I can't imagine wasting any of it on this freak. I'm so sick of f****d up adults acting like they're actually f****d up more than anybody else. Wacko shouldn't have climbed up a Buckhead crane; instead, he should have climbed into the elevator of a Buckhead high rise and visited a therapist! Let's face it, every adult on the face of this planet is messed up in one way or another. But, as adults, we need to take steps daily to heal ourselves. Attention-seeking acts like this are just plain stupid. If you want to kill yourself, go ahead. But clogging up Peachtree was wrong on so many levels.

Find your version of folic acid - prayer, meditation, a nap, laughter, a long drive, therapy, etc. - and take it daily. And recognize a construction crane for its intended purpose - a piece of machinery used to build something bigger and better than what's there now.

A sign

My grandma passed away yesterday morning. She was 91 years young and lived a full life. Earlier this week I learned she had taken a turn for the worse. I broke down numerous times and grieved for her before she had even passed. But after learning of her death, I immediately felt peace surround me. I know it's cliche, but I know my grandma is in a better place. She's with her 4 children that went before her, she's able to walk even faster than me and see even better than you. She's home, wherever that may be.

While part of me truly believed she was in a better place, another wanted confirmation. I wanted a sign that she had made it to her final destination. I actually prayed that she would come to me in my sleep, brushing my locks from my face and whispering in my ear, "I'm okay." I slept for 12 hours last night and 1 more this afternoon; I wanted to give her a large window of time to come to me.

But she had other plans.

Over two weeks ago, I met a new guy. He and I have emailed a few times and talked on the phone twice. We had already planned to meet today. But after my grandma passed I had to decide whether or not to keep those plans. After much thought, I decided to go along with it. Yes my grandma, my heart, is gone; but I still have to live. So he and I are enjoying dinner and out of the blue he tells me that his birthday was...yesterday! I've never believed in coincidences; as the saying goes, everything happens for a reason. I know that my grandma was sending me a sign. My date's birthday being the date of my grandma's death was my confirmation of her delivery to heaven.

Just as peace enveloped me at the time of her passing, may she forever rest in it.

My Favorite Things

1. A pint of half banana, half peanut butter ice cream with walnut mix-ins from Marble Slab Creamery
2. Hangin' out in Piedmont Park on a sunny afternoon w/take-out from Rolling Bones, a few bottles of wine, a comfy blanket, an iPod with a set of speakers, and a few pals
3. Fireworks
4. Receiving a card or hand-written letter in the mail
5. Visits from Kyrston
6. Uninterrupted naps
7. TiVo
8. My Cabbage Patch Kid, Selena, who I've had since I was six years old
9. Cedar Point
10. Frieda Falcon (okay, and Freddie!)
11. Ceiling fans in bedrooms
12. Drinking tall drafts with Kim and Jessica

Permanent Custody

Before, it was unofficial, just "temporary". But on Thursday it became official. Permanent custody. After reviewing the nearly five-year-old case, a judge, probably an old white guy in a black robe and bifocals, ruled that I should be in charge of her permanently.

I had a feeling this day would come. But I have to admit that I've always secretly hoped her mother would get her life back together again and petition the courts to reclaim her. When I agreed to do this, I honestly didn't think it would be forever. If I knew then what I know now, I wonder if my decision would be the same. But that doesn't matter now.

She'll loose her first tooth, start Kindergarten, get her period, have her first kiss, graduate from high school (early, I hope), and choose which college to attend...all with me as her mother. In my future, I've got dozens of boo-boo's to kiss, hundreds of bedtime stories to read, and countless pieces of advice to give. All this for a little girl who's not even biologically related to me. And I look forward to it all.