YOU can't possibly know

I'm single, as in never-been-married single. My longest relationship was about 6 months, and I lived with him for about 4 months of it. (Yes, I do have questionable judgment.) I'm so awesome I've moved back in with my parents until I figure out what the hell I'm doing with my life. My credit score could use some help. I couldn't stop going to school, so now I have two advanced degrees I'd rather not have. I don't have kids - I've never even been pregnant (except that time by the aliens, but that soooooooo doesn't count).

So, even though I've obviously had no real, useful experiences in my life, I am still able to offer helpful and constructive advice/opinions sometimes. Yes, you heard me right. Just because I haven't done X, Y, or Z does not mean I'm fucking useless.

For example...
When I was in law school, I had a roommate who insisted that it was necessary to lie to your boyfriend to get him to understand the situation. NECESSARY, she said. I looked at her like she'd lost her mind and then asked something along the lines of, "Wouldn't it be better just to tell him how you really feel?" The way she looked at me you'd think I'd grown a second head. Rather than explain to me what the fuck she meant by that and how lying could ever HELP a situation, she looked me straight in the eye and said, "You'd understand if you'd been in a long-term relationship." I said, "If lying is what it takes to have a successful long-term relationship, I think I'll pass," and I walked away.

Now, at the time it was true that I'd never been in a long-term relationship, but I don't think I've ever been in a situation where lying to someone you really care about actually SOLVED anything. We're pretty well-resolved AGAINST lying in fact. Most of the time we run with the idea that truth and honesty serve as the basis for a successful relationship. Since that time, I have been in a long-term relationship and I can say this, lying did NOT help that situation. Shockingly, it made things much worse.

Another example? Don't mind if I do...
I have a very good friend to whom I turn regularly for advice. I may occasionally be prone to emotional fits and outbursts and I call him when I need to get my head screwed back on the right way. I have an immense amount of respect for his ability to step back from a situation, process it while detached, and come back with a solid conclusion. Apparently not all of his friends have the same idea about him...

A good friend of his was involved in a relationship that was a good time, but the durability of the relationship was a touch questionable. All of a sudden, the guy decides to move in with his girlfriend of 2 months or so. My friend was like, "Um, dude, not smart." His friend retorts, "Well, you've never lived with anyone, so you're not exactly qualified to comment on this." (Okay, I'm making that up, but it went something like that.) In an unsurprising turn of events, they ended up breaking up and he moved out a few months later. Didn't see that one coming...

Something not relationship-related? Okay!
I am the second oldest of 12 cousins. I have spent more time than I would like babysitting my evil shit cousins (okay, they were awful as small ones, better now). I've watched them for extended periods, when they were sick and when they were healthy, and at a range of ages. No, I don't know what it's like to go for days on end with very little sleep and then to have to watch the little one as the insanity sets it. But I DO have some experience with kid moodswings, potential causes of illness, etc.

At this point, I'm one of the few people I know who is childless. For some reason I can't seem to get anyone to fertilize my lady garden (perhaps because I say shit like that...). Because of this, I have to watch myself when my friends talk to me about their kids. I have heard, on more than one occasion and from more than one friend, "I HATE it when people try to tell me how to raise my kid. I know better than anyone what's going on with my kid!"

I never try to tell anyone how to raise their kid. All kids are different, every family dynamic is different, and families have different financial means. Sometimes though, I say useful things. Like when my friend's kid was running a low fever and was cranky as all get out and wouldn't eat much. I suggested, as quietly as possible, that the kid might be teething. Sure enough, the little bugger was cutting some teeth. Made my friend feel a lot better that her kid wasn't dying or suffering too immensely.

The Problem?
Part of the problem is that we chuck our good friend Common Sense out the window when we get emotionally wrapped up in something. Moving in with someone after a couple months? NEVER REALLY BRILLIANT. I can't think of a single person I know where that's worked out well. And we know that if we saw someone else doing it, we would be like, "Well, that shit isn't going to work," though we happily traipse down that path. Lying is RARELY a good idea. (Yes, Mom, I did love those pajamas...). Usually you end up having to explain yourself later and you break the trust you've worked so hard to create.

Some of it is that we don't want to admit that we done fucked up real bad. "You can't possibly know what this is like because you haven't done it" is just a defense mechanism. We don't want to be WRONG, to have to admit that we went down the wrong street. The words our friends say find their way to our fear. If we weren't afraid, we'd be able to hear what someone else is saying without flipping our shit over it. We'd thank them for their words and decide whether to act on their advice, comfortable in the choices we made.

The reality of it is that no one can live anyone else's life and we never really know what's going on for someone else. Every person is different - their experiences, intellectual and emotional capabilities, manner of processing things - all of it. If we believed that people could never offer advice because they aren't US, we'd miss out on vast amounts of wisdom from people we respect and who could help us. You never know, that piece of advice could change your world.

Honestly, this is really just my nice way of saying that the next person who tells me to shut it because I haven't done whatever it is that they're doing is going to be on the receiving end of a loud, angry, profanity-filled tirade that will leave you crying like a school kid who just found out that he has to walk around all day in pants he pooped in.

Do Good Guys Finish Last?

I posted this on my Facebook page tonight: What a woman needs, is a man who will protect her like she’s his daughter, love her like she’s his wife, and respect her like she’s his mother. Be that man. 


I really didn't think anyone could object to or bitch about it. Turns out, I was wrong.


A couple of guys left comments and I have to say, I'm a bit irritated. 


The first guy: Wow! That's hard, even for the best of us.
He followed up with: The first and third, no sweat! The second? I've tried that and it didn't work...TWICE! SO maybe love her like she's Venus!


The second guy: I am that man and what has it gotten me...not a damn thing! Good guys do finish last.


The first guy agrees with the second guy.

And then I banged my head on the wall.

Here's what I think: Nice guys don't really finish last. I think the problem is in the term "nice guy." 

What I'm about to say isn't going to be PC and it certainly won't be nice. I know you're shocked, but here goes. A lot of "nice guys" are actually just pussies who are so wrapped up with the idea of being in a relationship that they stink of desperation and trying too hard. And when they finally get to a second date with a woman, they start talking about long-term shit. Gee, wonder why it didn't work out. 

These guys try to be what they think a woman will want in her Prince Charming. All the women reading this know what the problem is, but because there may be a few of the less intelligent sex reading this, I'll be clear. IT IS RARE THAT MEN HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT A WOMAN REALLY WANTS. They try to be it, the woman doesn't respond super well, so they try something else, and she doesn't respond well, so they try something else, and she walk away. The men don't stop to think how FAKE all of this looks. 

Allow me to educate: We know you're guys and therefore victims of testicular drag. More than likely, you don't really enjoy getting all dressed up for shit. You fart and burp and scratch yourself. You'd rather watch sports than go to the ballet with us. You need time to hang out with your male friends. We know all of that. Don't try to bullshit us about it. Be honest. Obviously relationships require compromise, but don't totally lose yourself just to get the girl. We can see it happening and we won't stay.

I have one more thing to say about the quote. No one is perfect, and every day won't be perfect, all women ever ask is that men try. And really, how hard is that?

A Life Sentence of Lyndsy

Continuing with my friend recognition theme, I'd like you to meet someone else...

How I Met J...
It's 1999. (And yes, I just got that song stuck in my head too.) It's the week before I begin classes my freshman year at the University of Florida. At this point, having only lived with each other for 2 days, my roommates and I are all getting along. One night we get bored and decide to cruise the campus, like the badasses we are.

After unsuccessfully cruising, we end up back in our dorm area, and my roommates decide to see how crazy I actually am. Clearly they have only known me for two days, or they would have known better. They dare me to knock on a random window. "Psh," I say, "That's nothing!" I knock on the window. We wait. Nothing happens. We move on.

As we're walking away, the window opens. We turn back and all cock our heads to the side, like dogs puzzled by human speech. A guy is hanging out the window, "Wait there!!" We look at each other, confused. Wait for what?

Our befuddlement does not last long, for out the double doors of Weaver and East halls come running three menfolk. One tall and gangly, running as though he were an injured 12-year old girl. The others shorter than the giraffe, but easily distinguishable. One blond, one brown hair.

They run up to us, and since we are young and naive (and they appear harmless), we invite them to our room. They accept and follow us. We spend the evening quite companionably, though I remain... concerned... by the dark-haired, non-giraffe one. He sits quietly, but intensely, seeming to absorb everything going on in the room. I'm worried that he's trying to steal my soul, but as I appraise him, I see that he's cute, so I think I'll let him have it.

Why he's obviously insane...
After our fateful introduction, I spent a bunch of time with J, Injured Girl Giraffe, and the blond who I call Georgia Peach. Until I scared the giraffe with a lengthy printout on penis length. (I was just giving him the facts!) J and I kept in touch for a while, but it was our sophomore year that he really got a full Dose of Lyndsy.

See, his roommate, K, must have hated him, at least a little, because I would con someone into letting me onto the floor, and then I'd swing by J and K's room and K would let me in. I would promptly fall asleep on J's bed, at which point K would depart for class. J came home after a full day of actually challenging classes (unlike my political science classes - when I actually went, that is) and there I was, asleep in his bed. A little like Goldilocks and the Three Bears, except I came back, day after day.

It's not just that I was there when he got back from class. I stayed until late in the evening. I stayed until after he took his shower in the communal shower. He'd come back to his room, wearing only a towel around his waist and I just sat there, on his bed. Any woman in my position would have done the same thing. He's AWESOME to look it. I did the best I could not to drool all over his bed. But bless his heart, he just managed to get dressed under the towel and hop into his bed. Sometime after that I'd leave. Unless I'd invited friends over to sleep in his bed. Then we were all there for a while.

Even after I graduated, we stayed in touch. I'd call him a few nights a week and I'd walk around my block and talk to him. For an hour or more. Many nights. He rode with me to Michigan when I started law school. He came to visit me in Seattle and didn't get creeped out when I sniffed him after he showered (he does boy smell VERY well).

He pays attention to me even when I'm not paying attention to me. Enough attention to know to send me a particular Dave Matthews CD (since I had the others) and to send a Toby Keith CD for Christmas. He always remembers my birthday and he sends the greatest, funniest cards.

He doesn't care that I constantly sexually harass him. He reads this blog and laughs when I'm funny, and probably when I'm not. He thinks I should keep it up. He's listened to me whine about more guys than I remember. He thinks I don't live up to my full potential and he tells me that. He's always supportive, even when I'm not being the greatest friend. He lets me sleep in his super comfy bed with him, even when I molest him in my sleep.

He's brilliant. He's funny. He has a good sense of humor. He's got a good sense of himself. He's beyond patient, especially with me.

And most importantly, he loves me for me. With all of my weirdness, loudness, annoyingness, and wonderfulness.

I couldn't ask for a better friend. I love him with all my heart, and fully intend to carry out the life sentence of Lyndsy I imposed on him in college. And you know, I think he's okay with that.

Is all hope lost?

I don't have traditional faith in my life. Without really knowing what I was doing, I left the Catholic church before I could be confirmed. Something in me just told me it wasn't right for me. As I've gotten older, I've realized how right I was.

That doesn't mean I don't have my own brand of spirituality. That I believe in some kind of higher power comforts my religious grandparents and father. They overlook the fact that I don't believe Jesus was the son of God, and focus instead on the way I live my life. At the end of the day, I think how we behave is more important than what we say we believe.

I do believe in some kind of higher power and I believe that higher power has some kind of plan for me. Nothing super specific, just that I'll accomplish personal growth in certain areas. For me, this translates to the idea that everything happens for a reason. I may not like what happens, but I appreciate that I can learn from it, whatever it is.

I try to remember this during times of my life where I feel like I'm struggling and drowning. I had planned to say something else, but I just looked at the words I chose: struggling and drowning. And now I'm wondering if it's my struggling that's making me feel like I'm drowning. Sometimes the best thing you can do is to stop the obsessive struggle and just float along.

Which actually leads quite well into what I WAS going to say. I have all these ideas about what my life is supposed to be like, and it's just not like that. It also doesn't look like it's going to be that way anytime soon. I keep feeling like *I* am doing something wrong to keep my life from being the way I expected it would be. I feel like I'm trapped in a net, and the more I see that and struggle, the more caught I become.

In a warped way it's kind of funny. I am now living the life I said I never wanted to live. Living back in Florida, working a job I tried to avoid. Did I doom myself to this life by declaring over and over that it isn't what I wanted? And in reality, it's not as bad as I thought it would be. I keep having feelings of deja vu, which is an indicator to me that I'm where I'm supposed to be. Somehow it's still just not that comforting.

I don't know how to let go of all the expectations I have for my life, things I really want. What if I never meet Mr. Lyndsy? What if I never have kids? What if...? What if...? I ask myself these questions all the time. I try to accept that it may not happen, because it IS a possibility that I won't have kids or that I won't meet Mr. Lyndsy.

But I feel like letting go of the expectation,s accepting that they won't happen, just floating along is tantamount to giving up, losing hope. And is there anything worse than losing hope?