I Know Why The Caged Mom Drinks

Supermom

Sometimes parenting is about admitting that you don’t really want to go to the school play. And all the students have to wear jeans and solid shirts– why so many rules? I don’t have a solid colored shirt for my daughter to wear because solid shirts are a parent’s nightmare—it’s much easier to hide ketchup stains when you buy them clothes with crazy patterns. Nor does she own a pair of jeans because she’s 8 years old with the butt of an 18 year old and it’s just too early for me to deal with her learning what the term “badonkadonk” means. I have two dollars in my account until Friday so purchasing a new shirt is DEFINITELY not going to happen. Although if I did purchase it I certainly wouldn’t make it to the play on time for her to wear it because the play starts at 7pm and I don’t get home until 6:30pm, of course. Because that school transfer just never quite happened I will be traveling across town against traffic to get there. This sounds pretty ill-prepared but in my defense, I was reminded this play was taking place just last night as I walked in the door after a long day of work and a freezing commute home.

I still don’t know why we’re not allowed to bring flasks to PTA meetings…

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#Bae

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Social media is the devil, but I still hear it calling me! My problem is that I do things ass backward by reporting and sharing all the terrible shit that’s going on in my life– dating or otherwise– and I feel weird about sharing when it’s good.

No One Likes A Humble Brag

When I was down and out in relationship hell going through my divorce and break up I felt it was the sworn duty of my friend’s to listen to my pain and anguish with their “Mmhmm, girl’s” armed and ready. That’s what friends DO!! But now that I’ve settled into something substantial with a romantic partner that seems to actually love and respect me I feel a little censored. Who can I gush to about my consistent good morning texts and “just checking in” phone calls? The answer: no one.

I try my hardest to regulate my “JW Says the Darnedest Things” anecdotes to my closest bff, but I think that by now even she has reached her limit. With the surplus of social media platforms, humble bragging has become common but it’s best to gear that shit toward a widespread audience because sharing with individuals might just get your feelings hurt. I was bummed out about this at first but now I see it as a blessing in disguise. Feeling kind of like a fool if I were to post excessive #myboo pictures and statuses has helped me to grow up a little and become a more private person.

Bagel

You Down With OPP?

My entire courting and marriage was kind of like a reality show and its rise and fall was very much everybody’s business. With my second major child-producing romantic involvement I learned to get better about not sharing information with my parents. Now, after doing the casual dating thing and keeping that as under wraps as possible (from my entire family and a majority of friends), this new relationship is the 3rd rule of Fight Club: WE DO NOT POST ABOUT IT! With the exception of the blog, (because to most of my audience I am a complete stranger) I try not to share any photos, change any relationship statuses or speak much about JW or follow him on any medias at all. I have my reasons. ..

  1. I’m not a jealous person but I’ve been made into one by the cheaters I’ve dealt with in the past. (So… I guess I AM a jealous person.) I don’t want to spend my time on IG decoding some thirsty comment on my man’s dinner pic: “Ooh can I have a taste?” No you can’t, bitch. That’s my veal parmesan and you can have several seats! People on social media have no chill, and as a person prone to being bothered by it I may as well see no evil and not friend or follow him on any sites.

Furthermore, what’s done in the dark will always come to light. Becoming Nancy Drew and searching for the “Mystery of the Cyber Flirty Boyfriend” sounds exhausting and, for lack of a better term, PRESSED.

Jealousy

  1. I know my role and I don’t want to put too much stock in Facebook affirming it for me. So far I think I’ve solidified my girlfriend status by being present for conversation during number 2s and the meeting and greeting of friends and children, etc. Furthermore,  it is a good trust building activity for me to take words and action at face value rather than putting too much emphasis on how we are presented to our virtual world.
  2. When and if it’s all said and done between us, my experiences and memories will be enough to haunt and hurt me.  I believe in absolute severance and I would not want to deal with deleting, untagging, unfriending and unfollowing. I do not believe in soft break ups!

Number 3

  1. I am way too personal in this blog– it really is in his best interests to remain nameless and faceless.

<–   (5. I’m terribly unphotogenic!) PHOTOGENIC 1

#Maindude

I am tempted to showboat relationship happiness, almost everyday, and admittedly a little envious of those that have the luxury. My baby is a beautiful man…all tall, dark skin, bright teeth and pretty eyes, OF COURSE I want to photo op our every moment together! However, I recognize that the desire to plaster his face all over the walls of my accounts stems from an immaturity and insecurity within me that wants to yell a big fat “HAHA!” in the face of every stupid guy I’ve wasted my time with, and every woman that gossiped about me behind my back. I don’t need to get in the habit of trying to prove a thing to any of those people. I just need to learn to juggle what life has thrown me and enjoy the moments he and I share together while continuing to be present– living in the moment and feeling everything.

I’ve had romantic encounters before that I always worried weren’t real because we never went viral with it. At some point I began to associate a low media presence with a poor relationship. One thing I have been able to learn about myself is that if a man creates a safe environment of trust, consistency and affection then I could care less about the hash tags. Hanging out on a snowy day trying to understand watching the all star weekend dunk contest with him is an activity to enjoy and not a mini photo shoot. The fact that he is spending that time with me is what matters and to hell with what anyone else thinks or doesn’t or what symbolism lies in the public display of commitment.Relationship Killers

Personally, I don’t even know JW’s stance on the whole social media thing. I know he has Facebook and Instagram but that’s pretty much where we leave it. The moment I enter his presence I put my phone away– and he his– and focus all of my attention on us and savor the freedom of the privacy of we share. As a person that doesn’t mind being an open book and challenges herself to overshare in an effort to identify and include others, I must say it feels nice to be saving a little piece to myself.

We’ll see how long this lasts!

IMG_0382                                                But while we’re on the topic, please Like my Embrace the Crazy Facebook page and check out my new website: http://www.whiskeyandpoetry.com

IG: Whiskey_grrl

Tumblr: Whiskey-grl

Pumpkin Eater

Apparently you are supposed to judge others based on the reality and actions they’ve shown and not based on what, deep down, you know to be true. All men are cheaters. They simply cannot help themselves! And maybe 30 years ago it was much harder for them to do so because women were perhaps a little more virtuous and less willing to overstep boundaries, but where does that leave us today? Our society has allowed for this by creating a space for threesomes and open relationships and being ok with labels like “main chick”, “side chick” and “bottom bitch”. There is only one title that I want and will accept in a committed relationship, and that’s “The One and Only.”

My outlook on love has definitely darkened significantly over the last few years, and now because of recent events, I feel that I’m being haunted by my past. The good news is that my daughter’s father is able to visit her more frequently. The bad news is that his presence conjures up a dull aching pain somewhere back in the recesses of my heart that I would rather forget. It’s funny how you can persevere and time can allow you to get over a person, but I truly wonder if you can really ever get over the pain that person inflicted upon you. I still remember being told/coming to the realization that I was just a side piece. I screamed out in shock, which sounds so dramatic, but I felt so humiliated it was almost the same as being physically punched in the face.

The mind is so amazing! I find that I am usually able to bury those feelings away. But as I sit here typing this and crying at 5am in the morning, I fear that the agony of it may never completely die. It sits just beneath the surface, simmering at low heat. The first time her father came to see her about a week ago it was pretty uneventful. We actually get along great and things are generally fine between us. However, a few days later, I fell asleep lying in the arms of JW and I woke up on my back gasping for air in what felt like a mini panic attack. I’d had a nigtmare that JW had confessed to sleeping with someone else and I was trying to wake myself up out of it but I couldn’t move. When I finally awakened I felt that oh so familiar aching and I really just wanted to bolt out of there and go home. Instead, I forced myself to grip his hand and will myself to go back to sleep. He laced his fingers through mine and it was a reassuring feeling, but the uneasiness never went away.

A few weeks just before, I was brushing my teeth in JW’s bathroom and my body stiffened as I noticed a hair on the floor that didn’t belong to me. I felt my body freeze and my brain went into panic mode. How could I escape this? I went back to bed and lay next to his sleeping body saying my final goodbyes in my head. I loved this man who had given me so much in just a short period of time,  but I had to leave him.  Just like the others he could give me all these wonderful things but the one thing I needed most. And if he’s not cheating now, he WILL and I dont have a plan for how to handle it other than to run.

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With my cheating exes I made the mistake of hanging around far too long. I wanted to ask questions–to know why and how and the who, what, where… I think I’m wise enough to know that none of those details matter now. I don’t have any desire to hang around and torture myself with information that’s not going to change my bottom line. If you cheat, I will be gone without a trace. This time it would be harder than before–a seriously tormenting struggle. When you are elevated to the position of queen, it is a long way to fall when it’s all over. But I would jump from that pedestal in a heartbeat, because who wants to suffer and be told they are not enough when you’ve been devoted to that person the whole time? I grew up with the pleasure of watching my father love my mom, solely, and I don’t think it’s asking too much to want the same for myself.

Anyway, that day JW woke up and noticed my suffering. We talked things through and the logical explanation was given for the hair in the bathroom. I accepted it with fear in my heart, but I still worry. He shows his love for me everyday, goes out of his way to make me smile, waits for me with my favorite whiskey and cups my face in hands and tells me I’m beautiful. But I still worry and it is completely unfair. Past lies and betrayal continue to haunt me even subconsciously and it’s taking a great effort to make sure that I don’t let any of the others that come after reap what the men before them have sown. I wish I knew the right way to convey the message of how a woman can forever be robbed of her security as a result of careless cheating.

Side chick,  main chick, jump off, bottom bitch– it doesn’t matter how you phrase it or how we as women pretend to grin and bear it: no one likes a pumpkin eater.

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Bread, Beer and Fapping

… not necessarily in that order, but these are definitely 3 things I need to get rid of in my life. So, I think I’m going to fast from the triplets for a month in some feeble attempt to lose some weight and find better ways to relieve my stress find enlightenment.

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Bread and Beer
…are throwing my ph levels off and doing nothing to help me lose my belly. It is really a shame that the MOST REFRESHING THING EVER after a workout is a cold 40 oz of MGD (try not to judge, will ya?)  Last summer I did the whole Plus Sized Fun posts about my half naked vacation with my hot best friend and her hot friends and it was cute or whatever BUT showing up chubby to the nude beach is cute only once. The next year it’s like, Ok B, you gotta get your life together!  And this is why God hasn’t blessed me with an abundance of cash because it might sit in a college fund for the kids for a few days (tops) before I withdrew it all to get one of those amazing surgeries where they take awful fat on your body and place it somewhere awesome.

Furthermore, I assume that the novelty of the chill girlfriend that sucks down 24 oz Milwaukee Best Ices has just about worn off.  I have nightmares about finishing a can and him looking over at me like, “OK you gonna do some sit ups now?” (He would never say that because he’s great and encouraging and loves my body the way it is… but still…) I just have to DO BETTER! I lack discipline and I need put some sort of plan in motion to gain some sort of control over my life AND I need to change my bad lifestyle habits as a huge big ups to Jesus for blessing me with all this happiness stuff.

So the bread and beer is the first to go because it will be the hardest. If I can overcome this, even briefly, then the world is my fucking oyster.

Fapping
Ok…so this is kind of gross, depending on who you are, but let me be candid– as is my way. A problem I deal with, and maybe I am not alone in this, is that I pick up bad habits from whoever my romantic muse is at the time. As I get older I think I am learning that I need to pay more attention to the people around me and how they influence my behavior. I started off my dating life as the goody two shoes church girl that was all about that missionary position, and have ended up the swinging from the chandelier girl. After sexual partner/failed dating attempt number 4 or so I just became so desensitized to the VALUE of sex and so accustomed to the frequency of the act without the substance. I am aware that nowadays taking your sexuality into your own hands and being in touch with yourself (pun intended) means that you are the ultimate feminist. No women should have to wait on a man for her pleasure! A friend even told me that she has a co-worker that keeps a vibrator at work and has suggested she do the same—I suppose this is liberating.

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Listen, not to sound judgy but that woman is a psychopath. No one NEEDS a vibrator (or any tool for sexual stimulation) at their place of work. Isn’t that the kind of thing that George Michael got arrested for? And anyway, I’m sure vibrators are splendid (not a fan, personally) and two finger stimulation is WONDERFUL, but it is not the same as intimacy with another person and if you’re not careful—like me—it can become a release that you crave just to relieve stress. I should be in the gym relieving stress, or cooking or something, I don’t know. Now that I have a steady sexual partner I’m kind of feeling like it’s a damn good time to attempt to eliminate fapping out of my life permanently. I’m not knocking those that have to have their dailies, but I think it’s a good time for me to kick the habit. Sex is entertaining, so naturally this is a fun time to be in America and basking in the glow of our oversexed culture—but I don’t want it anymore. Also, I’d be interested to see the impact it would have on my current sex life, and if it could possibly help me to restore some of the reverence I’ve lost by engaging in casual sex.

But these are just thoughts, I really have no idea. Time will tell how this works out for me, and I will be sure to journal my thoughts throughout the month long fast. And OF COURSE, if anyone would like to join me on this quest you can feel free to update me about your experience in the comments section.

Yikes

 

Happy Valentine’s Day (ad nauseum)

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Surprise! I like Valentines Day now!  OK, not really but kind of…I mean five years of casually dating assholes that conveniently disappeared around this time of year only to resurface with a flood of flirty texts in March, it’s a miracle I have any regard for romance at all– much less this DAY!

I’m OK,  You’re OK

Liking the “holiday” is fine. People nowadays just love when women renounce all the mushy girly stuff and proclaim feminism and career minded ambition. What if I told you that the two are not mutually exclusive? I want flowers, awesome sex and maybe some candy on February 14 because I’ve allowed myself the luxury of falling into the hype a bit. This is the same reason we buy Beyoncé music, dance to misogynistic songs in the club, and hate Fox News. We all drink the kool aid in sips and teaspoons at some point,  it doesn’t mean you are conforming if you just happen to not hate an activity that everyone else is doing.

And yes, I’m probably coming off as condescending because I finally have a man and a means to celebrate the “holiday” with someone else. Listen, my single ass spent plenty of time liking Facebook pics of other women’s Godivas as a single tear rolled down my cheek.  Been there,  done that and most likely will have to do it again.  However, it was when I was single that I realized that my crusade against the day needed to stop. If you don’t like it, think it’s too commercial and don’t nobody need to tell you when and how to show love to your significant other then. ..fine…shut the fuck up. Why kill anyone else’s vibe? Hate and make fun of people in your close circle of friends–it’s more fun that way AND you don’t come off like an asshole on social media.

But if you are into it, don’t be ashamed! Post those pics, hash tag ’em and stuff your face with chocolate. Men: if your girl is into it, what’s the harm in humoring her for one day? You can please your SO by doing the things that make them happy without selling out your identity and core beliefs.

A few weeks ago I was shopping online for some shoes while hanging out at JW’s house. I landed on a pair I loved and proceeded to interrupt whatever he was talking about to show him my newfound loves. “Baby, what do you think of these?!” He gives the screen one long look and responds without missing a beat, “Baby, those shoes are fire!” What he was really saying was, “If you’re excited, I’m excited.” To know that he would humor me in such a way made me feel loved and free. I doubt he really cared about the shoes one way or the other, but taking the time to indulge me is the sentiment that will stick with me long after the holiday.  Its the thought AND effort that counts.

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First V Day Gift Received in Years

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone…I know. ..barf

The Pursuit of Unhappiness: Part 1

Sad

The horrible, ugly truth of it is…I am happy. Ridiculously and grotesquely and I don’t really know how to BE happy without making apologies or fearing it. I suppose the past 5 years has been a torrential downpour and I’m so comfortable in that environment that I don’t know what to DO when things have been going decently and life has taken a respite from pummeling lemons at my defenseless body.

Oops, I Did It Again

If you’ve read the blog you know that 2014 was chock full of hedonism and debauchery. Well, not really anything that exciting or scandalous—but I did make the effort to date a lot and sprinkle around a few morsels from my heaping bag of wild oats. Most of my posts about dating came off as whimsical and kind of fun, and it WAS— up until a certain point. The truth of the matter is that I really hate modern dating and how it is set up. I had simply given up and adopted a “If you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em” attitude” and learned to use these new lazy courting methods to my advantage. After a while, juggling men, keeping up with text messages and hang outs and being treated like a piece of meat took its toll and I believe I was at an impasse. I was either going to become this jaded chick that dated multiple men and never settled down or made a commitment OR I was going to grow up and realize that sometimes LOVE HURTS! That’s the risk we take every day by involving ourselves with other human beings and allowing them the power to disappoint us. There is absolutely no way around it and I was beginning to look like a fool for thinking that I could avoid heartache by controlling the men around me and remaining aloof in soul but not in body.

I made the decision to do better. I had reached a certain level of maturity to understand that there is no reward if there is no risk. I missed the days of rubbing someone’s back and actually listening to the story they’re telling me because I care about their thoughts and philosophies on life. I missed consistent communication, lazy Netflix marathons and inside jokes. I MISSED having a boyfriend. As a woman, it’s hard to confess or admit these things to yourself because with the whole “bad bitch”/ “feminist” movement wanting the company of a man automatically makes you weak. Lucky for me, I don’t consider myself that kind of feminist. My pet peeve is feeling censored or judged by others for simply wanting what I want. I am sure there are women who admired that I was going through my sexual revolution phase…then why can’t I be equally praised for my “I want to settle the fuck down and chill with one dude” phase?

But, I digress. Let’s move the story along…

Meanwhile, a persistent young man began to contact me on the dating site for which I was a lackluster participant. I wasn’t really all that wooed by it, but I was bored and his persistence had a hint of desperation in it that gave me the impression that maybe he was just tired of all the bullshit that is modern dating and ready to settle down and give something a chance. We went on a date to a poetry outing and he was cute enough, could carry on a decent conversation and seemed genuinely impressed and interested in me (HUGE points for that). He lived relatively close, as well, so we ended up spending a lot of time together. THIS WAS IT—FINALLY!

In an attempt to disable my account I logged into my profile (for what was supposed to be the final time) and I am messaged by a lovely young man whose dating profile claims he is a whopping 6’5” (yes, please!). Being the flawed individual I am, I entertained conversation with this gentleman because he was hot; plain and simple with no way to sugarcoat that. After exchanging numbers and talking to him a bit more I realized that he was intelligent and fun to talk to even more so than my pseudo-boo I was spending all of my time with (two weeks of pure, unadulterated oversaturation). Some uncommitted dating overlap occurred with the two men for a few weeks and one night, as I sat in the booth of a TGI Fridays forcing myself to smile at the first guy, I realized that I didn’t want anyone else but the second guy. Once I came to that realization I proceeded to do EVERYTHING wrong, by ending things with the first prospect and shifting all of my free time and attention over to the man I favored and could see building something with.

JW

The rules of the blog are that once a male figure becomes a significant part of my life he gets a name. Because I am not a complete asshole I’m always polite enough to not use the actual name of the guy, so let’s call him JW. JW is actually a real, live grown ass man that does real, live grown ass man stuff like; pays rent in his very own apartment, owns a car, has a job, supports his children… It sounds like simple stuff but finding this in dudes nowadays (in the area I live in) is harder than it should be. Those things are nice, but I can’t really qualify them as the things that I care about all that deeply (except for the taking care of his kids thing). As I spent more time with the man I came to realize that his actions actually matched the words that came out of his mouth! He expressed his affection for me verbally and physically, he consistently communicated and touched based regularly and he didn’t play games. As much as I hate this phrase: everything WAS what it WAS…it was GOOD!

Nobody Said It Was Easy

…but it is. I don’t know why and it scares the shit out of me. As it turns out, once I let go of my past hurts and fears; accepting love into my life became easier. JW and I went through the phase of casually dating and after about 3 weeks I was sooo tempted to have the uber confrontational “WHERE IS THIS GOING?” conversation, but something in me told me I didn’t need to. When you are dealing with a real man, it seems things fall into place a little more naturally. I was treated so respectfully on such a consistent basis I just had the feeling that I was finally dealing with an individual that was courting me in the correct way and doing what he could to be clear about his intentions. Look at me everyone; I’m dating a real ADULT!

After the demise of my “relationships” with my children’s fathers and finding out they were both philandering assholes not my true soulmates, I approached dating like a naïve teenager and wasn’t even sure of how I wanted or expected to be treated. I learned plenty of lessons about the importance of giving the benefit of the doubt, the importance of softness and submissiveness, communication, fighting fair, etc.—but I hadn’t yet learned the lesson that these characteristics are NOT TO BE WASTED ON THE UNAPPRECIATIVE! I had acquired all of this knowledge on how to be a good partner but I wasted it on slutty dudes that were not that interested in me, or obsessive dudes that were way too interested. Somewhere along the way I had adapted the motto of “aim low so you won’t be disappointed” so I attached myself to men I knew didn’t want any kind of commitment from me, were not going to pay for any dates, give out any back rubs, no gas money, and definitely no kind of commitment. Dealing with cheaters, liars, ex cons, the selfish, the young, the lonely, the restless was my way of saying to myself  “I don’t deserve any better than this.” So now, when I do have a man that loves and appreciates me, treats me like a priority and protects me I find myself asking the question, “Do I really deserve this?”

I still don’t quite have the answer to that question. But I do know that while I am gifted with this man who goes out of his way to make me feel special everyday, I am going to appreciate that for once in my life, something is easy. He is not perfect— though I am very nearly perfect 😉 –so there is still going to be work involved in the effort to try to get this thing right. Because of my past hiccups I am insanely jealous, suspicious, insecure ALL of that, but I am determined, for once, to chase after happiness. I have put a lot of time and effort into dysfunctional relationships, it’s about time for me to grow up and invest in something healthy that makes me insanely and absurdly happy—even if it scares me shitless

Happy