My Kamikaze Mission (otherwise known as my last relationship)


Written by Author, Dear Thor

Take lawyer dude, Fred, who asked me the inevitable 3rd date question, “when was your last relationship?” I retell the sordid story of betrayal like a stoic war vet, who just feels lucky to have made it through in one piece. Midway through the story he blurted out, “wow. And you still went back to him even after__, sounds like you were on a real Kamikaze mission.” Suddenly, I realized how absurd this story must sound about the girl that runs towards (not away from) danger? Like a Kamikaze pilot, we both knew it was a suicide mission, but proceed anyway.

Growing up in California, I was taught from a young age what to do in the event of an earthquake. In school we practiced earthquake safety drills every couple of months. Have I done one too many earthquake drills that I’ve somehow adopted the “stop, drop, and take cover” protocol to past relationships as well?

 

The forgotten art form of full disclosure



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The age old question in online dating, “just how accurate should I be in my online dating profile?” Is there a grey zone?

If women tend to lie about their weight and men about their height, where do you draw the line about what is acceptable to lie about?

Recently, I was matched up with a friend’s ex on Jdate (in real life he’s a 46-years-old, divorced father with 3 kids). However, his online dating profile states he’s a 40-years-old with no kids. Boy, is his next date in for a shock….

When you first begin dating someone, isn’t full disclosure the best policy? Or is it? It hasn’t been for the last couple of guys that I’ve dated, who have all had highly complicated relationships with the truth. I dated Ari for a couple of months before finding out he was significantly older then his profile had stated.

When Jeremy said he was a “recovering” alcoholic what he meant to say was that he was “currently” an alcoholic.

Ty’s version of “newly promoted” was a polite way of saying “currently unemployed.”

Tom told me his kids live with him every “other” weekend. Every “other” weekend turned out to be code for they live with me “full time.”

You say Potato, I say Potato.

Keith told me he volunteered for “charity.” Keith’s version of “charity” turned out to be what other people refer to as “selling pot.”

Alan told me he had an “amicable” divorce. A more accurate description would have been, “I’m still bitter and I’ll spend our entire relationship telling you all about it.”

My best friend recently confessed to me that when she first met me – she didn’t like me. Her first impression was that I was fake because “no one could possibly have as much energy as I did.”

17 years of friendship later, she said, “it turns out I am exactly the person whom I first purported to be (apparently an extrovert with that much energy).” I told her that was one of the best compliments I’ve ever received.

But the whole concept made me wonder about who else I could say that about?

I prayed to the universe for a different type of man. The type that would disclose everything from the onset.

But, you know what they say…be careful what you wish for…

Hello my name is the Author and I’m a commitment phobe….


Written By Author, Dear Thor
No, I’m not referring to the men I date.
I’m referring to an even more obscure and misunderstood sub-set of the dating population. I’m talking about a group (made up entirely of women). They are terrified of commitment, or rather, the fear of committing themselves to the wrong guy. I have a confession. I’m not only in this Club. I’m the President. I’ve been screaming foul from the sidelines of relationships for simply far too long now. I’m a serial monogamist, going from relationship to relationship. From the outside, it might appear that I’m ready for love, but I’m just dating different versions of the wrong men. Take my word for it, if you’re looking to date the wrong men, bad boys are only too quick to help. (High reward, low commitment). But dating a bad boy is a fast track to nowhere, which coincidentally, is also the perfect beard to mask this gal’s fear of commitment. When you hook up with a bad boy, rest assured, everyone’s too busy noticing the mysterious rebel thing to pay much attention to you. Oddly, you appear (by and large) pretty together in comparison to the company you keep.

My default dating setting has always been set to the wrong men. And bad boys come pre-packaged with a fast approaching expiration date. Like driving your car with the emergency brake permanently on. Putting myself out there always felt like I was a trapeze artist performing without a safety net. Dating bad boys ensured that I’d never again have to put myself out there. I could outsmart the game of love. But by dating bad boys I was only disqualifying myself from the game. Most of my friends would describe my type as “tall, dark, mysterious and very troubled.” If he looks like the type of guy who would have a problem getting through the TSA at the airport, you’ve hit the nail on the head.

I studied abroad in Florence during college. His name was Pete, he was mysterious, had a bad attitude and thought he was too cool for school. Naturally I was drawn to him. On the first day of the program, we started dating. Having heard about “my new major boyfriend” my bestie Jamie came to Italy to visit me. Jamie stood in front of the Duomo (the hang out spot for all the American students studying abroad). Looking for his friends, Jamie scanned the crowds of hundreds of students, before becoming splinter focused on one boy standing across the street. To our mutual friend, Jamie announced, “That’s Pete isn’t it? I’ve never seen a picture of him but I can just tell by the way he’s walking that this guy is the biggest d-bag. And knowing our girl as well as I do, I could spot her type from a mile away.” 

“Bingo,“our mutual friend responded.

That’s the thing about patterns, eventually you grow up and grow out of them. Dating bad boys is like re-reading the same book and hoping each time for a new ending. So, today, I’m reading a new book. And, I’ll let you know how this one ends.

High Emotional vs. High Financial Maintenance


A man once told me all women are either high “emotional” or “financial” maintenance.

And certain women are both.

He told me that men are simple creatures. They just want to be fed and feel appreciated. He went on to say most men prefer a woman who is high “financial” maintenance because (as long as you have money) there’s always an easy solution. If you throw enough money at the problem–she’s be happy.

But then there’s the women classified as high “emotional” maintenance. These women are much trickier to please. She’d rather you be “present and in the moment” then shower her with material things. She wants to know “what you’re thinking.” She’s a never-ending challenge. It takes a certain type of warrior to commit to this undertaking. Thus, the search for my warrior continues…..

How a 5 yr. old explained to me what the Obama Administration could not….


My friend Sara and her husband lived in San Francisco with their 5-year-old, Max. Over the years Max has wanted to be: a baseball player, an astronaut and a firefighter. Recently they moved to LA. When I asked Maxie what he wanted to be when he grew up, his answer took me by surprise. He said, “Nothing. Yep, I’ve decided I want to be nothing.”

His mother and I laughed thinking he was just being a precocious 5-year-old. However, this wanting to do nothing phase has lasted for 6 months. Since both parents work  has Max just seen one too many people doing nothing in lala land? How does that happen? Has he been to too many overcrowded malls on weekdays and thought, “hey, I could do this?”

 

imageWhen he first moved to LA, he started playing with an imaginary friend, named Jamie Martinez. Apparently they played ball together after school. Pretty typical for kids that age. The other day I noticed Max sitting alone not throwing the ball around, I asked, “Max, why don’t you go outside and play with Jamie Martinez?” 

“Jamie Martinez is dead to me, he said, “he doesn’t play with me anymore.”

“Why,” I asked.

“He has a full-time job now. He doesn’t have time for me because I do nothing.”

“Ah,” I replied.

I had always wondered who the Obama Administration was referring too when they announced big increases in job creation.   I guess they were referring to imaginary friends like Jamie Martinez.

Every woman should have…