To Make You Feel My Love

When the rain is blowing in your face,
And the whole world is on your case,
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear,
And there is no one there to dry your tears,
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love.

I know you haven't made your mind up yet,
But I would never do you wrong.
I've known it from the moment that we met,
No doubt in my mind where you belong.

I'd go hungry; I'd go black and blue,
I'd go crawling down the avenue.
No, there's nothing that I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love.

The storms are raging on the rolling sea
And on the highway of regret.
Though winds of change are blowing wild and free,
You ain't seen nothing like me yet.

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true.
Nothing that I wouldn't do.
Go to the ends of the Earth for you,
To make you feel my love
To make you feel my love 

I think this song is one of the best love songs ever written.  Garth Brooks' version, not Adele's version.  

Last weekend, I wrote about safe relationships.  My bad habit of falling for men who are safe because they'll never love me back either because they can't -- or because they just don't. 

A friend read the blog and dared me to place an ad on a dating site so that I can actually see what it's like to remove myself from the comfort (and agony) of safe relationships. She challenged me and said that if I continue to remove myself from situations where I can actually meet men then I need to suck it up and deal with the consequences and accept that I will continue to fall for impossible relationships and impossible men.

So, I was on Facebook and an ad came up on the side inviting me to meet men who were waiting to meet me. (eyes rolled)  I clicked the link.  

My first mistake was thinking that Facebook would endorse a quality dating site.  It's called Zoosk and it was free for me to place a profile and review other people's profiles but if anyone indicates an interest in me, then I have pay for a membership to see who is interested. I spent some time reviewing ads of people who didn't have profile photos because I didn't want to be swayed by someone's photo.  I wanted to be swayed by their profiles.  I found a few that were interesting.  I even found someone who listed "Sarcasm" as a hobby.  That made me smile. Sarcasm is also a hobby of mine.  For a day, I didn't have a photo on my profile.  I wanted to see if anyone would find me without a photo.  No nibbles.  So, I added a photo from a holiday get together from this past December.  I'm wearing a beret and goofing for the camera.  I wanted to portray my funny side. I've gotten a few "winks" but I don't want to pay to see who winked at me.

So, I told my friend about my disappointment with this website.  She tsked at me via text and told me I was making excuses and that she wouldn't be surprised if I didn't purposely put crazy assed shit in my profile (her words) to deter men from seeking me out.  Not true.  I was myself.  Honest.  

Last night, I came home to an email strongly suggesting I try a "real" site like eHarmony.  "The commercials can't lie," she said.  So, I succumbed to visions of me dancing in a silly commercial, spouting about my true love and soul mate, which I found on eHarmony, while strains of Jason Mraz's "I'm Yours" or other love song plays in the background.  I spent two hours... TWO hours... completing the profile because I want to give it the old college try.  I want to show my friend I've taken her seriously. There was a small part of me that wants a total chick flick moment where one of my safe relationships ends up being my match.  Insert Twilight Zone music AND Jason Mraz music in that commercial.  I'd post the link here but it won't give me a generic link.  Guess you have to be a registered user of eHarmony to find me and see my profile.  

Here's the thing - I'm scared crapless about this little one-month challenge. 

I don't date well.  I don't.  I suck at making small talk with total strangers.  I am not myself.  I am not funny.  I am nervous.  I feel uncomfortable.

I have had a lot of first (and only) dates in my life.  The last time I seriously put any effort into online dating was about 7 years ago when I wanted to make someone else jealous and prove to my friends I could live without him.  I think I got a few dates out of it but nothing else.

For me, to know me is to love me.  I LIKE meeting people at school, at work, through friends, through hobbies, etc because it doesn't feel like a date.  I can be myself.  I can be funny.  I can take my time and worm my way into their hearts and minds.  But...  that obviously isn't working out.  At least not in the love category. It's great for making friends. I have more male friends than female friends.

But, I've promised my friend I'd at least give it a try.

Maybe I'll find someone who will make me feel his love.  (Get your mind out of the gutters.)

You Belong With Me

You're on the phone with your girlfriend, she's upset
She's going off about something that you said
'Cause she doesn't get your humor like I do

I'm in the room, it's a typical Tuesday night
I'm listening to the kind of music she doesn't like
And she'll never know your story like I do

But she wears short skirts, I wear T-shirts
She's Cheer Captain and I'm on the bleachers
Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find
That what you're looking for has been here the whole time

If you could see that I'm the one who understands you
Been here all along, so why can't you see?
You, you belong with me, you belong with me

Walking the streets with you and your worn-out jeans
I can't help thinking this is how it ought to be
Laughing on a park bench, thinking to myself
Hey, isn't this easy?

And you've got a smile that could light up this whole town
I haven't seen it in a while since she brought you down
You say you're fine, I know you better than that
Hey, what ya doing with a girl like that?

She wears high heels, I wear sneakers
She's Cheer Captain and I'm on the bleachers
Dreaming about the day when you wake up and find
That what you're looking for has been here the whole time

If you could see that I'm the one who understands you
Been here all along, so why can't you see?
You belong with me

Standing by and waiting at your back door
All this time how could you not know?
Baby, you belong with me, you belong with me

Oh, I remember you driving to my house in the middle of the night
I'm the one who makes you laugh when you know you're 'bout to cry
And I know your favorite songs and you tell me 'bout your dreams
Think I know where you belong, think I know it's with me
Can't you see that I'm the one who understands you?
Been here all along, so why can't you see?
You belong with me

Standing by and waiting at your back door
All this time, how could you not know?
Baby, you belong with me, you belong with me

You belong with me
Have you ever thought just maybe
You belong with me?
You belong with me

No great blog.  Just some heartfelt lyrics from Taylor Swift.  I want to be her in my next life.

Someone told me today that he/she was tired of being "just friends" with someone else.  I immediately thought of this song.  Not entirely sure why.  Maybe because my friend is young and innocent.  Maybe because I know how he/she feels too.  Sometimes.

My advice to him/her:  "The answer is always no unless you ask."   I told him/her to go out on a limb.  Take a chance. Ask the person out. Be brave.

Otherwise, you'll be 43 some day, living with a cat and singing along with Taylor Swift songs.

Waiting For A Star To Fall

I've learned to feel what I cannot see
But with you I lose that vision
I don't know how to dream your dream
So I'm all caught up in superstition
I want to reach out and pull you to me
Who says I should let a wild one go free

Trying to catch your heart
Is like trying to catch a star
But I can't love you this much baby
And love you from this far

Waiting for a star to fall
And carry your heart into my arms
That's where you belong
In my arms baby, yeah

I was on the elliptical this morning at the gym (yes, I've returned!) listening to "Stuck Like Glue" by Sugarland on my MP3 player when all of a sudden, the above song (from the 80s) jumped into my head and overwrote "Stuck Like Glue".  I pulled my earbuds out and allowed my brain its little musical walk down memory lane.  I had been thinking about someone prior to the song jumping into my head, thinking about something I said to someone last night about this other someone.  She and I had been texting about someone in my life who gives me mixed signals and how absolutely frustrating it is.  My last text to her before I went to bed was that I would probably crap my pants if this person ever called my bluff and showed an interest in me.  I turned off my phone and went to bed.

If you are someone who reads my blog on a regular basis, you have probably noticed two trends in my relationship-themed blogs.  1)  I tend to fall for men who don't feel the same for me. 2) I don't seem to think I currently (or ever did) possess the skills, talents and physical attributes to attract the "right" sort of man.

Over the course of the past few weeks, I've come to a kind of "duh" realization with myself.  I purposely fall for men I can't have.  Yes, I said PURPOSELY.  I think there's a part of me that can sense which men I meet might take me seriously and which men won't -- and I hone in on those who won't.  I become attracted to them.  I obsess over them.  I eventually fall for them.  I get to enjoy the ups and downs of crushing, infatuating, fantasizing, daydreaming and falling for them.  I never have to take it to the next level.  I never have to risk myself or my heart.  They will never return the feelings so I get to put the blame on them.  It's all their fault.  They don't want me.  They don't realize what a good thing they have.  They'll regret not growing a set of balls and falling for me the way I fell for them.  

I get to daydream about them coming to their senses and wishing they had done something while they "had" me in their lives.  In my daydreams, there's usually some big catalyst -- like I start to see someone else, or I mention moving away, or ... (insert any life-changing event here.)  They then realize they can't live without me, confess their love and we live happily ever after, surrounded by glitter and unicorns, Care Bears, Strawberry Shortcake, the Muppets and every other magical, mythical being you can think of. 

It all started about a month ago with me telling someone something about someone else and the person saying, "I think you're in love with ...."  I laughed.  Loudly.  Nervously.  I denied it.  I hardly know this person's soul. The person hardly knows my soul.  We know each other as friends, but we've never had any sort of late-night bare our souls kind of discussion, which I normally need to fall in love.  How could I be in love with this person?

But, as the days passed, I realized I did have feelings. Not "L" feelings, but there were some borderline could-be romantic if I allowed them feelings.  How in the world did that happen?  I've known the person for awhile.  We talk a lot.  We like each other.  I enjoy hanging out with the person.  I've entertained a few crush-like moments here and there but then I quickly squashed them in order to preserve the friendship.

The person is not in any way, shape or form available to me. He's not interested in me.

I've done it again.  I've repeated yet another cycle.  I've purposely allowed myself to become attached and attracted to someone I can't have.

It's safe.  I don't have to worry that he's going to suddenly wake up and want me.  He won't.  I know that. Now, it doesn't stop me from daydreaming on occasion. Daydreaming is safe.

All of my big talk about wanting happily ever after....  is it a lie?

If I really want it, wouldn't I go after men I could have and block those I can't?

Someone recently told me that they know someone who would "do" me if I gave him half the attention I gave other people in my life.  Now, this made me chuckle because I've never had anyone want to "do" me.  Ever.  I am not interested in the potential "doer".  He's a nice guy, but too slick, too playerish, too just not what I want.  Plus, to be honest, I don't find being "did" all that romantic.  Nice to know I have options, though, if I ever reach the point of just needing to be "done".  (See my blog about one night stands.)

The thought of someone actually wanting me scares the bejeebers out of me.  I'd have to put my money where my mouth is.  I'd have to actually, gasp, have a real relationship with someone.  I'd have to take a risk.  I'd have to give my heart and soul to someone and risk having them handed back to me.

I think subconsciously this is why I suddenly stopped going to the gym.  I keep joking about getting fierce and having guys notice me.  I've been wearing make up and sexier bras (not that they can see them.)  I've been working on my attitude.  

Well, it was kind of working. Maybe. I think.  

I made eye contact with this guy at the gym a couple of weeks ago and he smiled at me.  At first, I did one of those over the shoulder things to see if he was smiling at someone else.  Nope.  No one behind me.  I smiled back.  What the heck, right?  I'm a nice person.  Then, he started to walk towards me and I suddenly felt like I was going to throw up.  A fairly normal looking guy was walking towards me. Me. Not the size two three machines over. I bolted.  I grabbed my towel, my water bottle and went to the locker room.

Now, he could have been coming up to me to tell me something about working out.  He could have been yet another gay man, married man, engaged man, emotionally fucked up man, etc who sensed I could be his buddy and wanted to hang out.  But, I didn't even stick around to find out. I've been nervous about going back because I don't know what I'd do if a real, honest to goodness available straight man actually seemed interested in me.

I have since gone back and have not seen him.  Part of me is relieved and another part of me is disappointed.

Do I have the courage to actually follow through on my threats of becoming fierce and becoming a force to be reckoned with?

Do I have the skills to be happy and successful in a relationship?

Maybe it's just safer to stay the way I am and keep meeting and falling for guys I can't have.

Safe is good, right?

Can't get hurt from a falling star if I don't put myself in the universe.

My Own Worst Enemy

It's no surprise to me
I am my own worst enemy
'Cause every now and then I kick the living shit out of me

I went to the gym tonight for the first time in over a week.  I was fine once I got there.  I still enjoy the exercise.  I still feel good when I leave.

However, getting there has been a major chore. 

I went last Tuesday night.  Had a good workout.

Then, last Wednesday night, I went out for dinner and drinks with a friend. Skipped the gym.

On Thursday, I got to the gym but forgot my gym bag and gym clothing at home, and came back home.  Didn't go back.

On Friday, I was experiencing painful ovaries, fatigue and irritable personality syndrome.  I took some Midol, crawled into bed and slept all night.  The gym was the last thing on my mind.

On Saturday, I took Abby to get her nails done and then curled up with a heating pad on the couch.  Repeat of Friday night.  The only exercise I got was reaching for the remote control.

On Sunday, I watched television and then battled rude people at Wal-Mart. I guess walking through the store was a mild form of exercise.

On Monday, the "check engine" light came on as I headed towards the gym.  I detoured to get it checked out.  Couldn't find anything wrong.  Decided to just go home and convinced myself the gym would be a madhouse on a Monday night anyway.

Last night, I actually drove towards the gym... and then just did not feel like going in.  Couldn't do it.  Wanted to just go home and be a bum.  Had a kind of crappy day at work and wanted to watch television and do nothing all night, which is what I did.  I watched My Best Friend's Wedding.  I had forgotten how much I used to like that movie.  Sort of.  The soundtrack is awesome.  My favorite scene, which I quote from time to time, is the whole creme brulee versus jello debate. "I can be jello."  "You can never be jello. Creme brulee can never be jello."  I also watched some bad movie on Starz called The Roommate, which was a dormitory twist on Single White Female.

Tonight -- tonight, I went.  I actually got out of my car, got dressed and did my 45 minute routine.  I felt good while doing it.  I felt good after I did it.  I hope I can get back on track.

This phase --  it's typical for me.  I have done this so many times in my life.  I start something and then I lose interest.  I get bored.  I stop doing it.  I do it with hobbies, with jobs, with people, with television shows, with food ... 

I am my own worst enemy.  I don't know why I do it.  I don't have ADD.  I don't lack motivation.  I just get... bored.  The excitement wears off.  The novelty is gone.  I look for something new and exciting to appeal to me. I want some reason for it to be not okay not to do it.  Sadly, the people who love me tell me it's ok to just stop doing things I don't enjoy because they usually do the same thing themselves.  We support each other's indifference.

I always tell myself "this time will be different."

Then, two weeks later, I'm sabotaging myself.  I make excuses.  I hate making excuses.  I get mad when other people make excuses.  Yet, I do it.

I know it's not healthy.  I know it's not normal.

I know better.  

To be honest, I'm amazed I'm still writing this blog.   I stopped after a few months in 2010, after I got tired of doing it.  If I hadn't wanted to try to impress some people/men in my life with my witty prose and wordsmithing, I probably would have quit by now.

Why is it so hard for me to just stick to something I enjoy?

I can do things I don't enjoy.  I've stayed in relationships past their expiration date.  I've given dying friendships many second and third chances.  I've stayed in jobs I didn't enjoy.  I've lived in towns I didn't enjoy.  I've sucked up other miserable unsatisfying things out of obligation, necessity and loyalty.

If I have an obligation, I stick it out.  If I fear disappointing someone, I stick it out.  If someone is relying on me, I stick it out.  I'm very dedicated that way.

But, if it's for me....  If I'm the one who benefits from the efforts, I don't care so much. I give up.  I say "Eh, what's the point?"

Does that mean I don't care for myself as much as I care about other people?

(sigh)

I'd write more and try to figure this out, but now I've become bored with this topic.

The Lazy Song

Today I don't feel like doing anything
I just wanna lay in my bed
Don't feel like picking up my phone, so leave a message at the tone
'Cause today I swear I'm not doing anything
Nothing at all, nothing at all

I have been a bum the entire weekend and I liked it.

I was feeling a little guilty on Friday afternoon about the fact that I had no real plans for the weekend. I felt this pressure -- like I should have plans, something.   But, other than getting Abby's nails trimmed, I had nothing on the agenda.  I didn't make a to-do list.  I didn't make any plans with people.  I didn't pencil or ink anything onto my calendar.  I kept feeling like I should do something.  Like - I have to be productive. Like - I have to go to work on Monday and rattle off a list of things I did during the weekend.  I always ask one of my friends at work every Friday, "Got any fun plans for the weekend?"  I guess that since I put the pressure on him to go do something fun, I have to do the same with myself.

But, as I left work on Friday and headed towards the gym, I realized I was absolutely bone tired.  Exhausted.  I was cranky, crampy, sad and tired.  I wanted my warm bed, a loving snuggle with Abby and some sleep.  I didn't want to work out.  I didn't want to cook dinner.  I didn't want to do the long list of things I usually do on Friday.  And, you know what?  I didn't go to the gym.  I stopped at WaWa and got some soup. Then, I did come home, put on my nightgown and fuzzy slippers.  I did scoop up my little fur baby and love on her for a few moments.  Then, I ate the soup, sent an email to a friend and went to bed.  I was asleep by 7:00 and slept straight through until 3 or 4 a.m.  I got up, went to the bathroom, and then crawled right back into bed.  Had weird dreams.

I was up early on Saturday.  Poked around on the computer, watched some television, wrote a blog, took a shower, got dressed and took Abby for her pawdicure.  We were back home by 12:30.   I stared at my gym bag, trying to talk myself into going to the gym.  However, I decided I wanted to do nothing again on Saturday.  So, I put my nightgown back on and curled up on the sofa with the remote control.  I watched movies and caught up on all of the crime shows I DVR'd for the past three weeks.  I came to a realization that my interest in crime shows has waned.  I fast-forwarded through most of them.  I used to really love Law and Order SVU, Criminal Minds and CSI (Las Vegas).  Now, not so much.  Guess I am just not in a serial killer, rapist and murderer mood anymore.  Good thing.  Frees up space on my DVR.  I've been tinkering with the idea of cancelling cable altogether.  I don't watch it much anymore and I think I can probably watch most of the shows I do like on the internet much cheaper than what I pay for cable.  It's a thought.  Not one I've completely hatched... because I do like watching infomercials and weird alien shows in the middle of the night when I can't sleep. I've been thinking about placing personal ads looking for men on the west coast because there's a good chance they'll still be awake at 1:00 in the morning my time when I can't sleep.  Maybe I can get a little midnight sex chat going or something.  Again, another thought I'm just working on.  Not completely hatched either.

I digress.  I fell asleep around midnight last night (Saturday) and slept in until 8:00ish this morning.   Had a weird dream about a friend sending me a text about a possible love connection and another about binding a ton of training manuals at work with a friend. I didn't immediately get out of bed.  I love waking up on Sunday morning and just lying in bed for a little bit. (This is where a boyfriend would come in handy.) Sometimes, I turn on the TV and lie there.  Sometimes, I fall back asleep.  Today, I did neither.  I allowed myself a daydream of hopping on a bus to Atlantic City and winning the progressive slots and quitting my job.  When I realized that probably wouldn't happen anytime soon, I changed the day dream to that of being granted three wishes by a genie, with one of the wishes being that I could skip the whole gym and diet thing and go straight to size 12 so that I didn't feel this compulsion to justify why I don't feel like going to the gym every day.

I realized that I'm trying to compete with a male friend who is going every day.  He's on a special 12 week program to get hotter-looking for a vacation he is taking in the spring.  I do not have such a looming deadline or goal.  Yet, because he goes every day, I feel like I should be going every day.  It's the competitive streak in me.  I realized I was putting unnecessary stress on myself, however.  I have other things I need and want to do.  Going to the gym every night is not in my plans every week.  I initially set out to go 3 times a week.  Then, I got sick and then told myself that in order to get "caught up", I'd need to go every night.  But, then, I get behind on other things and feel stressed about "going every night".  I decided this morning that my personal goal is to shoot for 30 minutes of exercise each night but it doesn't have to be in the actual gym.  My gym goal is every other day, to give my muscles and body some recuperation time.  Once I allowed myself the freedom (in my head) to go to the gym when I want to -- not with the mindset of I "have" to, I felt a lot better.

I got out of bed, then made some breakfast, poked around on the computer for a bit and then watched the Food Network.  Around 1, I got dressed and headed out into the world.  I went to Wal-Mart.  Big mistake.  VERY VERY crowded.   Some lady cut in front of me in the checkout line and when I told her I was next, she ignored me and put her food on the conveyor belt.  She made a comment to her companion that I was a bitch.  If I hadn't feared getting cut in the parking lot, I would have done or said something.  I ended up going to another lane and getting checked out before her.  I smiled at her as I left the store and she was still waiting on her food to be rung up.  Karma.  I am not going back to that Wal-Mart again.  Luckily, there are 3 more within 15 minutes of my apartment.  If food wasn't cheaper there, I'd go elsewhere.  However, I can save about 20% by going there versus my regular grocery store, even with double coupons.  So, I suck it up once every two weeks.

I came home and did some stuff around the apartment -- laundry, dishes...  Cooked some chicken for the upcoming week's lunches.  Then, I did something I haven't done in a long long time.

I played "makeover".  I got out my rarely used cosmetics and played around with eye shadows, lipsticks, eye liner and mascara.  Experimented with new looks.  Dramatic.  Smoky.  Sexy.  Demure.  Pouty lips.  Wet lips.  Dark dramatic make up.  Subtle make up.  What the hell, right?  I'm a girl.  I do such things on occasion. 

I've been wearing it to work for about a week now but no one has noticed.  I heard that's a good thing -- that make up should not be noticeable.  But, the whole point of the make up was to make people (and by people, I mean men) notice me.  I even wore a black lace push up bra one day this week and the only people who seemed to notice were other women.  I got to show it to one in the bathroom in exchange for a glimpse of her hot pink bra.  It was very Saturday night porn.  The only thing missing was a pizza delivery guy and bow chicka chicka music.  I'm kidding.  She read on my Facebook status that I was wearing a sexy bra.  She said, "Me, too -- look!" and showed me her strap.  So, I then showed her my strap.  We giggled. I even wore a shirt with a plunging neckline.  Next time, I'm going to go for a see through lace top.  (Again, I'm kidding.)

It's now 7:00 on Sunday night.  This is the time I normally take a shower, put away my laundry and settle in for some television before falling asleep and wishing the weekend was longer.  I am going to take the shower.  However, I think the laundry can wait.  I'll put it away tomorrow night.  Or not at all.  I'm feeling rebellious.

I'm still going to settle in and watch some television.  And wish the weekend was longer.

I took a time out this weekend.  I think we all need a time out every now and then.

Let's Talk About Sex

Let's talk about sex for now to the people at home or in the crowd
It keeps coming up anyhow
Don't decoy, avoid, or make void the topic
Cuz that ain't gonna stop it
Now we talk about sex on the radio and video shows
Many will know anything goes
Let's tell it how it is, and how it could be
How it was, and of course, how it should be
Those who think it's dirty have a choice
Pick up the needle, press pause, or turn the radio off
Will that stop us, Pep? I doubt it
All right then, come on, Spin

I've had a tumultuous week in bed.  I'd like to say the rumpled sheets and pillows on the floor are a result of passion.  Sadly, not.  

I've had a hard time sleeping this week.  Slow to fall to sleep.  Hard to stay asleep.  I've been waking up at 4 every morning, wide awake, with no explanation, no matter what time I went to bed the night before. It's like someone or something told me to "wake up." I eventually fall back asleep and then the alarm goes off. I hit snooze so many times that my alarm clock would probably have bruises if it were a living thing.  Nothing too stressful is going on in my life.  Same old same old.  Life, work, money.

Hmm... okay... I have been stressing a lot lately about money, especially after that ad-thing went belly up.  

I called my mom last Saturday night to thank her for the Valentine's Day card I got and to "vent" - something I never do because she and I just don't have that type of relationship - and she turned the call into an opportunity to complain about how much she does for my brother -- from buying him food, to washing his clothing, giving him money, to taking care of his kids when it's his custody weekend.

My brother is 42.  He is fully capable of doing things for himself.  He chooses not to.  So, it made me mad.  I went off on her about how I've been taking care of myself since I was 19 years old and that she needs to stop enabling him.  She got mad.  I got mad.  I hate when I try to reach out to people to tell them I need help and they shut me down.  It's no wonder I don't really trust people to be there for me when I need help.

It could also be hormones.  I've noticed that there's a certain time of the month that I get particularly hormonal, as most women do, and during that time, I can't sleep well either.  It may just be a coincidence that money stress and my mom happened at the same time.

In addition to not being able to sleep well, I've had some random, disjointed, confusing and odd dreams.  Odder than normal (if you are a regular reader and have read some of my past blogs about dreams.)

I had one short dream that I told a man I loved him (romantically) and he laughed at me.  That was the entire dream.  I was wearing a pink top with hearts on the sleeve (hmm, figure out that meaning!) and just walked up to him and said the words from my favorite Partridge Family song: "I think I love you."  He laughed.  I woke up.

In another, I was standing in line in a school cafeteria with a guy who looked a lot like Barry Watson (who is a Taurus according to his IMDB profile.  See my blog about Opposites Attract for more on that.)  He turned to me and said, "We can't be friends anymore."  I put a container of chocolate milk and a thing of jello on my tray and said, "Why not?"  He said, "I had a dirty dream about you last night."  I said, "You had a dirty dream about me and now we can't be friends?"  He said yes.  I said, "That's not fair.  I had a dirty dream about you once and didn't stop being your friend."  He paused, while reaching for a cookie, and said, "You had a dirty dream about me?"  I sighed.  He said, "Was I good?" I shook my head.  "I'm sorry.  We're not friends.  I can't talk to you about it," I said and walked around him in line to pay for my food.  He just stood there with his mouth open.  I woke up.

Then, I had that dream that I texted a photo of my vajazzled private parts to everyone I know.  I still worry about that one.  I've checked my phone.  Luckily, I haven't done any sleep vajazzling or sleep texting. 

Thursday night, I had a stress dream about work.

Last night, I had a dream that I was giving a presentation on relationships (thus the song choice for this blog) in a conference room at a hotel.  At least, I'm assuming it's a conference room in a hotel.  It just had that vibe too it.  I had a huge flip chart on a stand that said, "Men and Women.  Can They Really Talk To Each Other?"

In the room, there was a beautiful woman with different shades of blonde hair, the Barry Watson lookalike, a woman from work that I see in the halls but don't really talk to, my college friend Kelly, and my friend Heather Marie's husband Jason.  I also know this wasn't work because I had one of those remote control thingies in my hand that controlled the Powerpoint presentation from across the room. We don't use those at work. I clicked the clicker and an image of a magazine clipping came up.  It was a "letter" to the person who gives romantic advice in a magazine.  

It said "My boyfriend doesn't listen to me.  He always talks about himself.  If I tell him I'm having a bad day, he ignores me and tells me about his worse day.  Will we ever be able to talk about serious things or should I assume he's going to be selfish forever?"  I read the letter to the class.  

The blonde kept playing with her hair and looking at the Barry Watson type.  The woman from work was texting on her phone.  My friend Kelly was smiling at me but not saying anything.  Jason made some smart allecky comment about the woman's first mistake was telling the guy she was having a bad day because men didn't want to hear that kind of stuff.  So, I decided to play off of Jason's comment.  I asked everyone in the room for their input, but stared specifically at the Barry Watson guy.  He shrugged.  The blonde spoke up and asked if we were allowed to have alcohol during the session because she was dying for a glass of wine. I ignored her and moved to the next slide, which listed statistics from some sort of women's magazine about men and women and the topics they deemed acceptable as conversation starters.  I pointed out that "bad day" wasn't even on the list.  Money, family and illness were not on the list either.  The top three were weather, television and sex.  As soon as I said the word sex, Barry Watson-man spoke up and said, "So, what about dirty dreams?  Can men and women talk about dirty dreams?"  I sighed angrily and threw my remote control at him and walked out of the room.  I woke up.

I've never had dreams pull in previous dreams before.  This is new for me.  I've had the same dream over and over before, with slight changes each time, but I can't recall having a dream that picked up something from a previous dream.

I haven't had any dirty dreams about any men in my life lately.  At least, if I have, I don't remember them.  Usually when I have a dirty dream, it's a faceless man.  Maybe because my mind (and heart) are hesitant to inert an actual person into such an intimate and private situation without some sort of feeling that the person feels the same.  The man is usually a representation of my ideal man.

Now, I'd love to think there are men out there fantasizing about me.  I might be more apt to keep on going to the gym if I knew my efforts were paying off. 

Walt Disney once said that dreams are wishes your heart makes.  I think I've quoted that on here before.

Obviously, my heart wants a Barry Watson type to have dirty dreams about me. 

And I want a job discussing relationships. And someone to care about my bad days.

I'd say it's pretty dead on.

Photograph

I see your face every time I dream
On every page, every magazine
So wild and free, so far from me
You're all I want, my fantasy

Oh, look what you've done to this rock n' roll clown
Oh oh, look what you've done

Photograph
I don't want your photograph
I don't need your photograph
All I've got is a photograph, but it's not enough

There's the expression that a picture is worth a thousand words.  

But, what if the picture is of some man's private parts?  His junk?  His package?  His man meat?  His love muscle? His one-eyed wonder worm? His snake?  (Want to know exactly how many words I can come up with for penis?)

On NEW GIRL on Tuesday, Schmidt took a photo of his penis and texted it to CeCe and then called her and asked, "Did you get my junk mail?"  Schmidt is a total douche and it is pretty on course for something he'd do.  However, do men really do that in real life?

Yes.

In the past few weeks, I've discovered that a few of my female friends, at some point within the past few years, have received a text from a man which contained a photo of his dangling part.

I haven't.  I don't know if I should be proud... or disappointed.

I'm totally baffled by the thought of it, to be honest.  I can't even imagine being so completely brazen enough to take a photograph of my girly bits (plus, I'm just not that flexible) and texting them to someone I'm interested in.  Not while I was sober.  What would the expected outcome be?  Disgust? Admiration? Amazement? Shame? Ridicule? Lust?

"Oh, Bevy, thank you so much for the beaver shot.  I am in love with you.  Let's run away to Hawaii and you can show it to me in person."

Yeah, right.

So, do men think that sending the pixels of their little friend to some woman will generate the same kind of response?

"Oh my god!  I am so smitten.  Take me now you wild beast.  Bring it to me.  Now."

Now, I can see if two people are seriously involved.  SERIOUSLY involved.  Meaning that they have probably already introduced their boy and girl parts to each other.  I can see it as a private joke. (Or would that be a privates joke? Snort.)  "Thinking of you" kind of stuff.  I'm all for the private joke.  That would definitely be a keeper.  Especially if it was kind of funny, too.  Maybe his little friend wearing a patch like a pirate?  Or decorated like a cyclops?  Or candy cane...  Something creative.  Something that would crack me up for years to come.  Ooops, did I say me?  How did I get into this little fantasy?

I'll be honest.  I've become almost obsessed with the whole concept.   I've been asking male friends if they'd do it.  In general.  Not to me specifically.  Although, there's a small part of me that gets a little excited by the thought.  But, then I get a little wigged out, too.  I mean -- what do you say to someone after that happens? 

"Thanks!" seems insufficient.  "You rock!" - too casual.  "I want you" - too serious.  "I can't find the zoom on my phone.  What is that?"  OUCH!

Is junk texting the modern equivalent of the "I like you.  Do you like me?  Check Yes or No." boys used in grade school?

If a guy texts you a photo of his pocket pal, do you have to reciprocate?  Do you get fancy?  Do you schedule a Brazillian?  Do you look for some place that still does Glamour Shots?  

I guess one could see this as an act of amazing daring.  If a man is willing to go out on a limb to show you his woody, maybe that means he has uber confidence and is up for anything?  Or is he just a closet perv who gets off on rubbing lotion on himself, tucking his bits and pieces and dancing a la Buffalo Bill in Silence of the Lambs?

I've been thinking about this so much this week that I had a dream last night that I went out and vajazzled my vagina (well, not the actual vagina -- just the skin area on the exterior) and then uploaded the photo to everyone in my address book in my cell phone.  EVERYONE.  My insurance agent, my doctor, my co-workers, my boss, my friends, Abby's vet....  EVERYONE.   And I did it on purpose.  Like someone dared me.  I woke up before I could see what the results were.

"Oh Bevy.  How brave.  How cute.  How did you get them to stick?  Want to come over later?  I can play connect the dots."

A girl can dream.

He's Got That Super Bass

He a muthaf*ckin trip, trip, sailor of the ship, ship
When he make it drip, drip kiss him on the lip, lip
That's the kind of dude I was lookin' for
And yes you'll get slapped if you're lookin' ho

I said, excuse me you're a hell of a guy
I mean my, my, my, my you're like pelican fly
I mean, you're so shy and I'm loving your tie
You're like slicker than the guy with the thing on his eye, oh
....
Boy you got my heartbeat runnin' away
Beating like a drum and it's coming your way
Can't you hear that boom, badoom, boom
Boom, badoom, boom bass?

Blog post # 200.  Can I get a woot?

I had an interesting discussion with someone a few weeks ago about male-female attraction.  It started with me being in a bad mood and making the self-deprecating comment that men just aren't attracted to "girls like me".  Then, I corrected myself and said, "Guys I want to be attracted to me aren't attracted to girls like me."  I was in a bad mood. I was meaning "girls who aren't a size 0." I'm over that now. I know I'm fierce. I can probably, if I really put my mind to it, attract the right sort of guy.  Still, it was a good conversation starter.

This led to a fairly lengthy discussion about what is and isn't attractive to males and females.

There's a quote:

"Men fall in love with their eyes, women with their ears."
~ Rita Mae Brown  

Just like scent, attraction is a personal thing.  To be honest, all of the men in my life whom I've been attracted to -- seriously attracted to -- didn't have extraordinary looks.  A few were what most women would call attractive by regular standards.  But...  for me... it's the other stuff.  The sense of humor, the intelligence, the soul.  The overall person.  I've met some actor-handsome men in my life who did absolutely nothing for me because once they opened their mouths, I fell out of crush mode.  As I've gotten to know men better, their attractiveness increases in direct proportion to their ability to make me laugh, think, and feel good.  I want to walk away from them feeling like I do when I leave the gym. If they can do that, then they are way ahead of the pack.

I even have little tests that I do with men when I meet them to see if they can match me in the sense of humor, brains and personality areas.  When we're both in our 90s, bald and toothless, it's not going to matter what we looked like when we met.  It's going to matter that we can keep each other entertained.  I always mentally apply what I call the "bomb shelter" exercise.  

When I meet a man, I try to envision what it would be like to be trapped in a bomb shelter with him for an indefinite amount of time. (Like BLAST FROM THE PAST.)  Will we have enough to talk about?  Will we struggle to  make conversation?  Can we take each others' minds off of the fact that we're stuck indefinitely in a bomb shelter?  Or will we be sizing each other up as dinner for when the canned foods and MREs run out? (In this case, I'm screwed because as we all know, fat equals flavor... and I'd probably be a tasty dish.)

I think I've mentioned on here before that I had a crush on this doctor who  comes to work and does presentations.  At first, it was totally superficial.  He is an attractive man.  However, as I got to know him over the course of several months, emails and visits, I started to lose that attraction.  He seemed carefully crafted - like he had created this super charming persona.  He said all of the same jokes.  He knew the right time to drop in a reference to his son.  He would mention his prowess (Donny, are you reading?  I said prowess!) on the golf course, in tai chi...  then to make himself more human, he'd toss in that he had a weakness for peanut butter cup blizzards.  I was a smitten kitten for all of ... thirty minutes... which is about how much actual personal interaction I had with this guy over the course of several months.  I was embarrassed that I had entertained thoughts of happily ever after with some guy who never really asked about me and didn't seem interested in me outside of "how many new clients can you help me get?"  Our interactions were friendly but never beyond that.  In order to truly "fall" for the guy, I'd have to get to know him.  That barrier was never really crossed.  Now, he's just some guy who comes to work every now and then.

Men, and I'm speaking generally here... and I'm not a fan of generalizations, however tend to make a decision about women based on appearance.  I had a male co-worker once who had himself absolutely convinced that he was in love (he actually said the words "I am in love with .............") with this lady who was a salesperson and who would come into our motel to try to sell things or try to convince the manager to buy things. The only interaction he had with her was based on her products and lasted less than 15 minutes each time she came.  She came every other month.  Usually, when she came, she would talk to us as a group.  She and he were rarely alone.  I probably knew more about her than he did because I was the one who would walk her around on property and make small talk with her while she reviewed our cleaning supplies, pool supplies, etc.  I knew her boyfriend's name, where she grew up, that she had a small child, etc.  I mentioned my male co-worker to her to see what her response was and she was like "Who? Oh, he's nice." No sparkle of interest. 

As soon as she'd leave, he'd corner me and want to know what I found out about her.  I realize he was building a fantasy in his head about her based on the information I was giving him.  I was doing the legwork for his masturbation sessions.  Even telling him about the boyfriend didn't stop him from concocting some major fantasy in his head.  One day, I asked him why he was in love with her.  He said that she was gorgeous.  That was the first thing he said.  Not that she was nice, funny, smart, caring.  She was gorgeous.  I looked at him and asked him if he was serious.  He said that he was.  I asked what about the boyfriend.  He said he didn't count until they were married. I remember pushing at him, because I made it my mission to cure men of believing they are in love with women based on looks alone, for more.  He hardly remembered the details I had given him about her.  For him, it was all about the looks.  He told me, "Our babies would be cute."  Seriously?   I never did get through to him and the sales rep was eventually replaced by a man, whom I'd take great pleasure in oohing and aaahing over in front of my co-worker just to annoy him.  I'd say, "Oh, I think I'm in loooooove with Ryan...."  He would roll his eyes.  

My co-worker eventually met a woman who looked nothing like the sales rep and married her. They wrote their own vows.  His had nothing about looks in them.  He loved her for her sense of spirit, her friendship, her loving personality...  I know he wasn't really in love with the sales rep and it had been a crush, but it taught me a lot about how much importance guys place on appearance.  I've met a few other men in my life who have professed strong feelings for total strangers based on appearances so I know it wasn't a fluke that my friend felt the way he did.  It just amazes me that they don't want to get to know the whole woman first.  I can't even imagine looking at a hot guy and convincing myself that I had feelings for him without getting to know him better. I'd have to talk to him. Have to.  

But, that's just me.  I'm sure that if I was knock-down drop-dead gorgeous, I'd be supporting the idea that men can fall in love with women they don't know based on looks.

Ha!  Yeah.  No.  I'd still want the "You make me laugh.  You make me think.  You had me at hello."  (oops, channeling Jerry Maguire.)  Now, I still want the guy to think my green eyes are rocking, my ass is fine and that my boobs (which, sadly, are now a whole cup size smaller) are a motorboating fantasy.  But, I don't want those to be the first things a man lists as the reasons why he loves me.  LOVES me. 

This blog was inspired by reading some posts on another website where some guy was asking for advice on how to ask out this "super hot" (thus why I quoted Super Bass as my song) girl in his chemistry class that he was "in love" with.  The females gave him reprimands that she's more than her looks and suggested that he get to know her first.  The males gave him advice about getting her drunk and "hitting it".  I thought that despite the age differences and generation gap, some things never change.

A good friend recently commented to me that I was sexy.  (It was another woman.  A straight woman.)  I just laughed it off.  She said, "No, seriously.  Your smile.  Your eyes.  Your sense of humor. Your self confidence. If I were a guy, I'd be all over you like white on rice." 

I asked her to move to California and marry me. 

Doesn't Smell Like Teen Spirit

The smell of your skin lingers on me now
You're probably on your flight back to your home town
I need some shelter of my own protection, baby
To be with myself and center
Clarity, peace, serenity

I am in search of a "signature scent".  A good scent.  Something that when people smell it, they think of me.  Something that is not like everything else out there.  Clean.  Fresh.  Totally me, though.

Over the years, I've had perfumes that I wore for a certain period of time and they became "my" perfume, my "signature scent", but right now, I'm currently without one.  I've been trying to find one, trying out different things.

Scent is special.  You can't just walk into a store and pick up something and take it home and be happy with it.  Each person's body chemistry is different.  So, I like to go into a store, try on something and then take it home and see how it smells an hour or two later.  Spraying it on those little strips of paper doesn't help.  The paper isn't skin.  It doesn't have hormonal or chemical changes that change the scent of perfume.

I was talking to a new hire a few weeks ago and he, the little romantic that he is, was telling me about how he could remember the exact scent his fiance was wearing when he met her and how it imprinted on him.  That's the scent he associates with her.  He said that most men are that way -  that they may not know the "notes" or the ingredients or name, but they will remember what a woman is wearing and that will stick with them.  I told him about my little pheromone experiment from the summer and he laughed and said that if I was trying to use it with men I already knew, it was probably worthless because they had already associated some sort of scent with me. Great! I hope it's a good one.  I'd hate to think that there's someone in my life that gets all mushy every time he smells the garlic I had in my lunch when we met.

When I was ten or so, I went into a GC Murphy's department store (did all of you have those where you grew up?) and sprayed myself with some cologne from head to toe, in an effort to smell more adult.  I went home and my mom gasped and said, "You smell like a French Whore.  Go wash that stuff off."  Now, I had no clue what a French Whore was but I figured it had to be a bad thing since my mom was making me wash.

Fast forward to Junior High - I was a Love's Baby Soft girl.  Sweet, soft, cloying.  I can't smell the stuff now without gagging.  It's too flowery and too sickeningly sweet.  But, I loved the pink color and the girliness of it. I like being a girly girl.  I may not always act it, but I can rock the ruffles and lace if need be.

I started college wearing Jovan's White Musk.  I wore that my Freshman and Sophomore years.  It was very subtle. 

In my junior year, I discovered the "expensive" stuff.  I wore Beautiful or Eternity for Women all through my junior year and senior year.  I remember sneaking into a guy's dorm room and spraying Beautiful on his pillow hoping it would remind him of me, but his roommate said I overdid it and it made him sick and he had to wash his bed linens to get rid of the scent.  Yeah, I'm sure I probably ruined the guy for that scent. For life.

After college, Eternity was pretty much my go-to for years.  Occasionally, I'd go back to Beautiful.  I worked in a motel and there was this regular named Danny who would come into the lobby and call out "Booooooteeeefullll" every time I worked.  I asked him how he knew the scent and he told me that his ex-wife used to wear it.  He and I went out on a date once and he kept telling me how much I smelled like his ex-wife.  I don't think this was a good memory.  He never asked me out again.

I experimented with some others -- Tresor, Red Door, White Diamonds, Happy by Clinique... but none of them really lasted very long.  My mood would change and out would go the perfume.

Mid 90s, I discovered "Freesia" by Victoria's Secret.  I loved loved loved that body spray.  Light and floral.  Not too clingy.  Didn't make my allergies flare up.  Inexpensive.  It became my "signature scent".  Friends commented on how much they liked it.  Then, it got discontinued.  Gone.  Poof.  Go figure.

I tried Bath and Body Works and sure enough, they had a Freesia.  It wasn't the same Freesia as Vickie's but it was close enough.  I wore that well into the middle of this decade.  Then, guess what?  They decided to stop selling it too.  I'm like a perfume jinx.  

Since then, I've been kind of "lost" in the scent department.  

I don't like overly floral scents.  I tend to prefer citrus or spice over floral.  I don't like heavy scents.  I like light and fresh. Clean. I like smelling feminine but I don't want to smell like a French Whore. Whatever that really smells like.  I'm thinking sex, cigarettes and baguettes.  Not exactly what I want to smell like.  I don't want to smell like food, candy or chocolate chip cookies.  I don't want to smell herbally and medicinal. I absolutely cannot stand that patchouli stuff.  I worked in a daycare with this woman who wore patchouli.  It made me sick.  She also didn't shave her legs or armpits and had greasy hair.  And heavy body odor.  Patchouli scented sweaty body odor.

A couple of months ago, I went to Bath and Body Works and walked around the store spritzing all different kinds of body sprays on me.  (My mom's voice kept ringing in my head. French Whore. French Whore. French Whore.)  I had something tropical on one arm.  Japanese Cherry Blossom on another.  Something citrusy on my neck.  I'm sure I tried at least 10 different scents.  They all combined into a mind numbing cloud of scent that made my allergies go crazy and my head hurt.  I had to take a shower as soon as I got home.

One day at work, a friend put some chocolate chip cookie scented antibacterial gel on me.  Ack.  That stuff made me want to gag too.  I had to take a shower as soon as I got home.  I kept smelling it for days afterwards and realized it was on the cuff of the hoodie I was wearing.  I had to wash it too.

Someone gave me some lotion called "Nighttime Tea" for Christmas (from B&BW) and I really like it.  Soft, light, feminine.  However, it only came in lotion or body wash form and was only sold at Christmas time.  I've been using it on a regular basis and have gotten some, "Oh, you smell nice" comments.  Sadly, my skin absorbs lotion like a sponge and by 10:00, the scent is totally gone.  I have a small bottle and reapply it, but I want a body spray, dang it.

I've been volleying back and forth for the past two years between three scents - white citrus (Bath and Body Works), Sea Island Cotton (Bath and Body Works) and Dream Angels Heavenly (Victoria Secret) - trying to find the one I like the most and which seems to be liked by others the most.  Every now and then, I'll change things up with some L'Occitane Cherry Blossom or lavendar-vanilla body spray by DOVE (yes, the deodorant people.)

I don't know why it's so important to me.  I guess I feel like I'm missing a piece of my identity.  Maybe I should create my own scent -  call it Butterfly.  It would have freesia, sandalwood, orange, cherry blossom...  hmmm... Yeah, I think that would probably smell bad together.  I guess I just want something that makes people think of me.  I know that I have scents that I associate with people.  I ask people all the time what they wear so that I can connect that scent with that person.  There have been times when I've been feeling a little lonely for a friend (or a memory) and have gone to the store and spritzed their cologne on my wrist just to be close to them.

A few weeks ago, I was in a store and the cashier said to me, "I really like your perfume!  What are you wearing?"  I had to think for a moment.  I hadn't put on any perfume.  What she was smelling was the fabric softener on my clothing.  I laughed and said, "Gain!"  She laughed, too, and said, "The commercials must be right then!"

Hmmm....   maybe I'll just dab some Gain behind my ears and see how that works out.   I did say I wanted a nice clean scent. 

Unrelated - my next blog will be #200.  Can you believe it?  Most of them written in the last 9 months!

You Make Me Smile

This is not my official blog for the day.  I have another idea in my head for a real blog for today.  However, while I was cleaning the apartment a few moments ago, the song "Smile" by Uncle Kracker came on the radio and I don't know how I've overlooked this song.

I've decided it has to be one of the perkiest little songs I've heard recently that totally sums my definition of love. Romantic love.  

This is what I want.  This is what I will use one of my wishes on when the Genie shows up and grants me three wishes.  (It also involves someone who also feels the same.  I have to clarify that.  I can see my wish turning into some Twilight Zone episode where I fall in love with someone just like the song below and then he ends up being an axe murderer, gay, married, and/or some other state of unavailability.)

So, I'm sharing the lyrics.  Come back later for my "real" blog for today.

Clicky for the video.

You're better than the best
I'm lucky just to linger in your light
Cooler than the flip-side of my pillow (that's right)
Completely unaware
Nothing can compare to where you send me
Lets me know that it's okay (yea, it's okay)
And the moments when my good times start to fade

You make me smile like the sun, fall outta bed
Sing like a bird,
Dizzy in my head
Spin like a record,
Crazy on a Sunday night
You make me dance like fool,
Forget how to breathe
Shine like gold,
Buzz like a bee
Just the thought of you can drive me wild
Oh, you make me smile

Even when you're gone
Somehow you come along just like a flower pokin through the sidewalk crack
And just like that
You steal away the rain
And just like that

Don't know how I lived without you
'Cuz everytime that I get around you
I see the best of me inside your eyes
You make me smile
You make me dance like fool, Forget how to breathe
Shine like gold, Buzz like a bee
Just the thought of you can drive me wild
Oh, you make me smile

(Oh, you make me smile)
Oh you make me smille
(Oh, you make me smile)
Oh you make me smille