A Quarter Please December 18, 2009

I have a lot of friends often express to me their unhappiness in their relationship. Wait, I don’t mean unhappiness, more like, dissatisfied. I appreciate that I’m the friend they come to for everything and I know that when they tell me their dissatisfaction, they are merely expressing frustrations. I know they come to me because I do not judge and know that no relationship is perfect. What I’m trying to say is that I only listen, I don’t give advice unless they ask, in which case, I tell them my Quarter story. Back in high school I had my first puppy love. This guy was tall, dark, and handsome. He was an athlete with a bright future. Unfortunately, that was also the problem. He had potential. I was with him because of what he might be in the future. In the meantime however, I was not as pleased. He didn’t open all my doors for me, he didn’t have a car yet, he didn’t want to go to college, he looked at other girls and so on. The point I’m trying to make is that I liked him but there were also things that irked me about him. So I was talking to my guidance counselor and I happened to mention my love dilemma, which at the time seemed like the end of the world if I didn’t share my feelings with someone. So she listened, and gave me the best advice that I tried to live by (hence the term tried, because let’s be real, sometimes we still make poor choices in spite of what we already know) in all of my dating years. Here goes it.

Cate: I really like my boyfriend but I don’t think he’s perfect. Maybe one day he will be so I oughta stay around.

Counselor: Hmmm. So you like him but he’s not perfect?

Cate: Yeah. But he’s so cute though.

Counselor: Well, cute can only take you so far.

Cate: Maybe he’ll get even cuter and we’ll make really really cute babies.

Counselor: Before you do that, let me give you something to think about.

Cate: Okay, shoot!

Counselor: Suppose you have to make a very important phone call. So you go to the phone booth (side note here: this was in the early 90’s so we didn’t have cell phones. We had pagers and beepers though) but realized the booth only accept quarters (side note again: can you believe it was only 25 cents to make a call from the phone booth then? And you got to talk for like 30 minutes, so cool!). So you go on to ask people you meet in hopes that they will have a quarter for you. One guy tells you he doesn’t have a quarter but has twenty-five cents, two dimes and a nickel to be exact. So you say what the heck and tried it anyway. The booth just kept spitting it out. So you say thank you and you go on to ask someone else. He tells you he has a dime and three nickels. Still no luck so you bid him farewell. You see your boyfriend and you ask him, he comes up with five nickels but because he likes you so much he looks around to see if he can find it for you. He looks in his room and found twenty-five pennies, under his bed he finds four nickels and five pennies, the couch helped him with a dime, two nickels and five pennies, he even asked his mom but she only has a dime, a nickel and ten pennies. You realized that even though he tried his hardest to give and find you what you need to make that call, he just doesn’t have it. So you keep looking until you find the one with the quarter. And guess what? It’s not like he came up short because he still had twenty-five cents, he just didn’t have what you’re looking for. But someday, some girl is going to ask him if he has exactly five nickels, just like someone will give you the exact quarter that you need.

Cate: Hah.

Counselor: So what I’m trying to say is that you can’t settle for what could be because now is the only thing that matters to the heart. Maybe one day he’ll have a quarter but right now he doesn’t. Everyone is perfect in their own way, they just have to find the one that fits their slot.

Cate: Wow. I never thought about it like that. Interesting. I think I know what you mean. The phone booth is a metaphor for my heart and my heart requires a quarter for it to beat. And even though my boyfriend or others for that matter might have exactly twenty-five cents, they just don’t have the quarter it needs in order to reach me. They might have a dial tone, but it ain’t ringing. Way cool Mrs. G!

So there you have it guys and gals. The best advice ever. I can’t tell you enough how much this piece of information saved me from unhealthy relationships. So next time you’re having troubles with your significant other, just ask yourself what kind of change he/she has and if he/she has the exact one that you need.

My Issues With Love October 20, 2009

A few years back, before I met my husband, I used to blog on my Myspace page (back when myspace was cool) about being single and the dating world. My previous post reminded me to dig up some old stories and share them with you. Reading through them now made me laugh, so hopefully you’ll enjoy them as much as I did. Here’s the first of many old blogs soon to be resurfacing in here. This one in particular is called “My Issues With Love.”

Alright! Enough already! For some reason people feel the need to ask me if I’m single and when I say yes, they proceed with why? They can’t seem to understand why no one has managed to catch me (I promise, its their exact words! Others say I’m way too attractive to not have a boyfriend – which is even worse). It’s really bugging the heck out of me so let me straighten this shit out right now. I am single by choice. I’ve had serious relationships in the past, so it’s not like I have commitment issues, at least none that I know of. My last relationship ended over three years ago and I’ve been loving singledom ever since. Now, now. Don’t think for a moment that I’ve not had any dates or seen men for the last three years. I’m not that Catholic. Let me just break it down for you. I have a fear of getting my heart broken, not to be confused with “commitment phobia.” I don’t want to suffer another heartbreak. My first and hopefully last one was three years ago. That was enough! So in an effort to protect my heart, I hid behind my friends. I made them my world. They became my boyfriend. Another attempt was by being picky. I’d go on first dates, and I’d find something wrong with them, anything at all, just to convince myself not to go on a second date. And for those who managed to make it past the first dates, most did not make it to third, and the rest of the few who did, well, they had no idea what was coming! See, I’ve already set them up for failure. They never even had a chance. All I was doing was waiting around for them to fuck up so I could say to myself, “Self, you were right. This one was just another disappointment.” See, when you anticipate for failure, you’re preparing yourself for future disappointments. I like to sabotage things. I’m very good at it. I’m sure someday I’ll look back at this time in my life and regret that I missed out on a few good men! I have a wall, a thick ass wall in front of me. My heart is heavily guarded. It will take an army to take that shit down! It’s my defense mechanism. And then there’s the issue of my getting bored easily. I have a short attention span problem. Even if a guy can keep me intrigued for a couple of weeks, it starts to dwindle down shortly thereafter. So he must have his best game on when it comes to dealing with me. Not to mention all the bad guys out there who are only out for one thing. Quality has seemed to disappear from their genetic makeup. Sometimes I wonder if there’s a way to alter men genetically and turn them into princes rather than the frogs that they are. So even if I meet the perfect guy for me, the bad guys before him fucked it up already. He has to pay for their mistakes, which I know is unfair but true nonetheless. I just hope that he will fight for me and would not give up easily. Of course, my reasons will not be complete without my high expectations issues. I expect too much, so much that I think they are far beyond anyone’s reach. I am however, working on this one. I’m starting to understand that compromising doesn’t necessarily mean settling. But somehow I still have this thought that if I’m a complete package, shouldn’t I look for the same? The nice guys bore me and the bad guys annoy me. Surely there’s a guy out there looking for “a girl in the streets and a freak in the sheets.” I’ve got beauty, brains and wit. So why can’t I have it all? The romance, the passion, fire and explosion? The flowers, candy, wild sex and crazy love? I want chivalry, as well as naughtiness. I want a guy who can melt my heart away while he gets me hot and bothered. He can’t just be one or the other, that’s not going to turn me on. I need all the combination. Sweet and sour. Naughty and nice. Popcorn and raisinets. Texas Pete and eggs. Sweet tea and lemonade. Is that really too much to ask for?

You have to kiss a lot of frogs…. October 17, 2009

Someone once was asked me why it took me so long to find a husband. I wasn’t quite sure whether to take that as a compliment or an insult, but I guess people assume that if you have a pretty face you should be married early on, that being single past the age of twenty five is unacceptable and they start to think you’re a lesbian. Well let me tell you something. I happened to be one of those people who were in no rush to be married. I enjoyed being single. I did whatever I wanted, whenever I wanted. I was free and I wasn’t quite sure if my freedom was something I was ready to give up. It’s not like I didn’t have an opportunity if I wanted to. Before I met my husband I was proposed to five times, thank you very much. Of course I only accepted one, but you can clearly see how that turned out. For me, finding a husband was the easy part. It was finding the “right” husband that was a bit of a challenge. I can probably write a book about my search for Prince Charming and all the frogs I had to kiss in between, but for now, consider this a teaser. So let me reminisce for a bit, starting at the age of 18 just to make things legal. I was with a guy that convinced me to follow him three thousand miles away because he just couldn’t live without me. I find out shortly after moving that he had a one night stand with someone while trying to convince me. I don’t care if we were broken up and you got drunk over it. I felt tricked so I had to cut him loose. After mister trickster, I decided to date someone ten years older hoping he was more mature and distinguished. I was right. He was so romantic, always saying and doing the right things. I even remember him going to a phone booth in the middle of a hurricane just to make sure I was okay. And when his car broke down, he rode his bicycle thirty miles to see me. Of course when I found out that he couldn’t get a car loan because of his bad credit and asked if I can co-sign for him, it was time for me to bail. And then there was the guy I thought was the one. He was perfect except for one flaw; his mother. Good thing I didn’t marry him because let’s face it, three’s a crowd. There was a self made millionaire from NY. I had to break up with him because I couldn’t stand his accent. I remember meeting a fireman who wanted to shuck my corn, and I mean literally. His problem was that I was only able to get a hold of him when he was at work. When I confronted him of my concern and accused him of having a wife, he acted stupid. I hung up on him and never spoke to him again, all the while hoping my house doesn’t catch fire. I finally gave a guy a chance after courting me for six months just to find him bumpin’ and grindin’ at a club with someone else. Hello? Can you be a bit more discreet if you’re gonna try to be a player? But that’s not why I ended it. I felt insulted because she looked like she fell from the ugly tree and got run over by a truck. If you’re gonna date someone else while you’re dating me, try to find someone similar, if not better than me. I dated a personal trainer that took his training a little too personal, if you know what I mean. A doctor that I shared many interests with, including men. Another fireman who slept with a grandmother. I don’t care if she was only in her forties. A grandma is a grandma. Period. There was an Air Force captain that was hung like a horse. I had to kick him out of my house because I was sure I would die if anything progressed between us. All I can see was my obituary saying “Cate. Loving daughter. Wonderful friend. Decent human being. Died of over stimulation.” I was fascinated by an eloquent engineer. He certainly knew how to work and run an engine. So much that one night, he and his friend decided to hit the town and picked up some random chic to bring home to his house and ran a train on her. He tried to blame it on me for making him wait too long for sex. And according to him, it wasn’t a threesome. Whatever. It was certainly disgusting. Oh, did I mention he was still hung up on his stripper ex girlfriend? Ha! How about a baller who took me on a very expensive romantic weekend getaway just to ask me later why I didn’t wanna have sex with him after spending so much on me. Um that’s because I’m not a whore, stupid! I hung out with a chiropractor by day, gigolo by night. A Navy SEAL that was way too cocky for my taste. A business owner from Hicksville. A bible thumper. A closet married man. A psycho and a stalker. A professional dater who was an habitual liar. A dead beat dad who gave up his paternal rights. A nymph who will have sex with anything that moves, and he did. There’s just way too many men and too many stories to list here guys. Perhaps a book is not such a bad idea huh? Now I don’t want everyone thinking that I dated nothing but losers because there were also plenty of men that I felt were absolutely perfect, just not perfect for me. The fact that I dated a lot of men helped me figure out what my likes and dislikes were. So when my husband came into the picture, I was well aware of what kind of man I was willing to share my life with. And let me conclude by saying that waiting for Mister Right was definitely worth it, because in the end, I ended up with the best.