So Long, Farewell

There's a point in a relationship when you realize it's just not working out. You're not sure when or how but you know you're going to have to end things. And it's going to be tough.

Inevitably, you begin taking inventory of your things. Can you fit the contents of "your drawer" in a grocery bag or will you need to make a separate trip with a Uhaul? How much do I really need this straightening iron? Can I consider it a spoil of war when I drop the verbal bomb?

If we're sneaky, we begin migrating our things back over to our own home. A t-shirt here, a toothbrush there. Our physical existence in someone else's space changes and becomes smaller and smaller until we disappear.

It's our emotions that require a larger suitcase. The Swiss Army of carry-on bags if you will. It's like packing for a trip where you'll experience multiple climates. You stand in front of your bag, open, full of opportunity, empty zip pockets, nooks and crannies. You're puzzled. How can I go from shorts to pants - and then back to shorts again? Packing-challenged and faced with a deadline where you'll have to get on that plane. Deep down you know though, it's going to be tough to get everything you need inside, neatly without having trouble closing it.

Last week I quit my job.

My proverbial "employment suitcase" had been cracked open for some time. Over the last year I had been trying to figure out what to fill it with and it was a couple of months ago that I decided to open it all the way and start my travels. My friends who know me really well, know that there were a couple of days where I wanted to climb inside of my suitcase and curl up in a ball. I digress.

After an extended search and sometimes lackluster discovery process, I stumbled on an opportunity that would change my perception of myself, the people around me, and would force me to enter the next phase of my career. It's sort of like leaving the country for the first time. This blue book with a hideous picture on the inside gets stamped with life experiences. Your first stamp changes you and you'll never be the same.

I have four days left until I say goodbye to my old suitcase and set my sights on a different route. I've cleaned out my things, prepared as much as I can and my physical self has been tucked neatly in my bag. To be frank, I've been tucking neatly for close to a year - I just hadn't bought the ticket.

Friday, I'll travel both literally and figuratively. After my exit interview and returning my badge, I'll drive to Midway to catch a flight to Seattle and spend time with my sister and her family.

For some reason I feel like I need to document this, as a single girl entering the next phase of my life and my travels.

Any lessons here? I'm not quite sure yet. I have no clue what will happen after Friday afternoon and where I'll end up over the next month during my time off (oh yeah, I said it. One. Month. Off.) I have nothing planned but look forward to wherever my bags take me.

Bon voyage single friends.

S.G.

The Power of the First Date

First dates kind of stink. Maybe not so much the actual date but the decisions leading up to it.
We've talked about picking out your outfit, where to go, what to order.

On a side note, I once made the mistake of eating an everything bagel before meeting a boyfriend for a Cubs game. Hours later I discovered my mouth looked like a NY deli on 9th Ave and a week later I was dumped.

After the wardrobe choice and all of the other details are decided, first dates force us to think long and hard about how we'll behave as the night unfolds. Stay with me...

On a first date (many moons ago), a young single woman decided to play it safe, calm, and overly conservative. She wore cropped pants, a t-shirt, and a scarf from India (a personal gift from a co-worker). "Guys like the earthy look" she said as she rubbed on some patchouli and twirled her hair around her finger to make a sloppy ringlet.

She had him pick her up (even though she really wanted to walk) and she ordered a glass of wine (even though she really wanted a beer) and she laughed at all of his jokes (even though he was incredibly boring and had really small, peculiar hands for a 6 foot tall guy).

She didn't talk much about herself (she was supposed to show interest in him ---- and his small hands), and when he asked her what she did for a living, she downplayed her success (men don't like a woman who is more successful than they are!) and she offered to pay for the drinks and insisted on leaving the tip.

On the ride home (he insisted on driving her home and she really wanted to run like hell away from him) he said he had fun. She indicated she had fun too (she was after all quite courteous) and he insisted on walking her to the front door where she parted with a kiss on the cheek.

That night, she washed her face and got ready for bed. She thought, "that was worth washing my hair right?" and looked down at her dog who turned his head to the side, walked over to her bed, and went to bed. Apparently this was a time where if you don't have anything nice to say....

Days passed and she rethought all of her moves, her behavior, her decisions.
Did she wear too much perfume?
Was the scarf too big?
Should she have worn her hair a different way?
Maybe she should've played the role of the strong and successful woman.
Maybe she should've ordered a cup of tea.

To make a long story even longer, she never heard from him.
She fought her inner confident woman and held off from emailing him until a week had passed.
Closing the loop and knowing her odds of running into random people in the city, she emailed and said she'd be open to meeting again (why? those hands!) and waited for his response.

"I'm still new to this dating scene so I'll respectfully decline."
I'm sorry what?
She was shocked.
She had spent 2-3 hours trying to be the person she thought she should be.
The person she thought he wanted.
And at the end of the night it didn't matter.

What's the lesson in this?
Who cares if you have an everything bagel stuck in your teeth?
Who cares if you're proud of your career accomplishments?
Who cares what cocktail you have?
How much you weigh?
What color your hair is?

You care.
So, care.

Single girls, lets be proud of who we are.
Let's stop apologizing for our behavior on first dates, in our careers, in our lives.
Let's be exactly as we are.
Every day.
All the time.
With everyone.

You care.
So, care.

You are amazing and if a guy, or a girl, or a co-worker doesn't see that?
Then maybe they have something in their eye.

-S.G.

Ex Boyfriends Are Like College

I recently wrote about a dream I had where I wrote a letter to an ex boyfriend and shared my thoughts about how I missed him and wished him well. In a recent email exchange with a former colleague and now great friend, she asked me if I was dating anyone.

Does my relationship with the Citibank online chat service count? He was nice, we bonded. I even shared my social security number! In no time, he had accessed my financial records (kind of like my double life ex!). He gave me his direct phone number and said to call if I need anything. I had problems ordering checks the other day and left him a message. Five bucks says he won't call back.

My friend also mentioned that an ex boyfriend from back in the day had resurfaced on Facebook (shocker) and friended her. She was going to wait a bit before responding and explained that time changes people and things are never as you remember them. Which brings us to today's post my friends...

Ex boyfriends are like college; they always seem a lot more exciting and fun then they really were.

Every year I go back to Florida to visit my Mom and also my undergrad university. My years at college were rock solid. I was tan (Miami of all places), popular, and living comfortably. My dorm suite was well-decorated and my car was a dude magnet. Life was good!

Fast forward 10 years since graduation and things are so much more clear. I wasn't tan - I was sun burnt all of the time. In fact I remember one Saturday where I spent the day at the beach sans sunscreen and couldn't come within 5 feet of a toaster oven. Feel the burn people!

My popularity was limited to the freshmen class I oversaw during my year as a resident advisor. My weekends were spent policing the female dormitory identifying weird smells and late night dance party's to Sisco's "Thong Song".


And my dorm? My room, while without a roommate was cold and musty. The day I moved in, mold had grown in the corners due to a freshman who left the windows open all summer break and the parking lot was next to my bed. I spent three and a half years buying different comforters only to end up with a large TARGET bill and a storage unit full of linen.

There were good times in college. Nights out with my best girlfriend at Club Zen in South Beach. All you can drink ladies nights and unlimited food at the cafe. I had a love affair with Blue Long Island Iced Teas and sadly, we parted ways 6 months later.

Boyfriends often times feel the same. Just the other day I reminisced over a day of cooking I had done with an ex boyfriend. Working at the counter, chopping, and tasting. A couple of kisses in between. Lovely.

But when I really thought hard, I remembered being "given" my own counter so as not to invade his. I was not cutting things correctly (she slices! she dices!) and my ignorance of how to make apple butter made me feel inadequate. I spent an entire day making a pie that turned out perfect but I didn't even like the way it tasted.

Perhaps college, like my ex boyfriends were a little of both.
A little good.
A little bad.
Sometimes sweet.
Sometimes sour.

But at the end of those memories and years, we can look back fondly on our experiences.
We can relive the happy moments in sometimes lackluster times.
And as we smile at the thought of our trips and times spent,
we can be thankful we've graduated and moved on.

Dream a Little Dream

Last night I dreamt that I sent a love letter to my ex-boyfriend. Now for a little perspective, my hair was neon purple and I drove a spaceship. Just sayin'...

In the dream I sent a hand written love letter to an ex boyfriend explaining that I had been thinking about him constantly and wondered how he was doing. The letter was about a page and I spent extra time making sure it was legible (have you seen my cursive?). I don't know if I ever sent the letter though. I woke up to the sound of Bernard having puppy dreams and running in place.

What was the point of this dream?

We're told that dreams are never what we think they are. Reaching out to an ex boyfriend has nothing to do with actually wanting to get back in touch with him. In fact, it probably has something to do with a bill I forgot to pay or an email I need to respond to.

Or does it...

When I dated my double life partner, I had dreams all the time about my teeth falling out. Hang in there and listen. Maybe you've had these too?

I'd walk around my dream feeling something lose in my mouth and would reach in to find a molar that had fallen out. In these dreams, I'd neatly place them in a Ziploc bag until I could find a dentist or someone with some sort of skill to help me.

Years later I remember watching an episode of the Sopranos where Tony's teeth keep falling out in his dreams. I searched online and found out that your teeth falling out is essentially an indicator of insecurity either in your physical appearance or a decision you've made / are making. I had no idea that this was related to my relationship, but in hindsight (it's always 20/20) I now know why I had that dream basically once a week. I knew that I had made a decision to stay in a situation where deep down I knew something was wrong. I didn't know the extent of what was wrong, but my teeth knew something was off.

What does it mean when we dream about reconnecting with an ex?
What does it mean when we actually do in real life?

Do you believe that everything happens for a reason?
Was that dream intended for me to think about that relationship?
Or do I just need to pay my mortgage?

Needless to say, I never wrote the letter that I had in my dream. In fact, the feelings that I had in that dream, while short lived and overwhelming, have already left.
I don't even remember why I wrote it...

And yet funny enough, I remember that awful purple hair.

Stand By Your Man

It was Tammy Wynette who said:

Sometimes it's hard to be a woman
Giving all your love to just one man. 
You'll have bad times
And he'll have good times
Doin' things that you don't understand.
But if you love him you'll forgive him.
Even though he's hard to understand.
And if you love him oh, be proud of him. 
Cause after all he's just a man.

Did Tammy know that today one woman would have to stand next to her man in a courtroom in downtown Chicago and be forced to listen to guilty verdicts (17 out of 20 charges to be exact).

Today's announcement of Rod's future has been somewhat tongue-in-cheek. Even text messages from my Mom indicated our shared joy in seeing justice served. As a politician, I'm not a fan (don't worry Single Girl keeps politics out of this - except in the bedroom of course). Guilty verdicts aside, does Patti stand by her man?

What has your man done where you've had to channel your inner Tammy and say, "after all he is just a man." Was it a in appropriate comment like yes that dress does make your butt look big? Or something more extreme like I'd like to sell the seat to the senate for some big buckaroos.

Regardless of the reason behind your Tammy moment, you may have found yourself at a cross roads making a decision that could affect your life, your children, your home. At what point do we toss our inner Tammy and instead focus on our level of tolerance?

I suppose there are no hard and fast rules to situations like these. Do we look at the specific charge or the fact that our relationship has been put to the test?

I vote for both.

When my lackluster boyfriend of 5 1/2 years announced he was seeing someone else for almost the entire time we dated (ahem.. excuse me, got caught), it was about the crime and the principal behind it. If he had been cheating for a month would the punishment have been any less?

What's the lesson here for our dear friend Patti?

In the next days, months, years, her relationship will continue to be tested in ways that none of us can possibly imagine. Her inner Tammy will be tested over and over again. Our lesson as women will be to help our fellow Tammy see the error in her ways, support her, and stand by her even if we don't understand.

Eat. Pray. Eat Some More. Love.

There are two scenes in Eat Pray Love that I am completely in errr... love with? The first scene includes Julia Roberts and her new blond friend that she has met in Italy dining out for lunch, enjoying what appears to be some of the most amazing pizza ever. Julia's friend only eats one piece and looks on as Julia's character devours every bite. She asks what's wrong and explains that she's gained a ton of weight in the last few weeks and can't fit her jeans. Julia responds with a ground breaking response:

This is probably my most favorite scene in the entire movie. Now some of my friends might say, "Yes, Kate. So why are you wrapped up in weight?". I've been doing a full body cleanse Monday. I'm doing pretty well and adjusting slowly. I've eliminated alcohol, red meat, processed sugars, and carbs. Sound s like a lot but my lunch today was packed with a turkey burger, an arugula salad and homemade dressing (yes! I made homemade dressing. What?!). 

Over the holidays (and in my last 7 or so months of being fully single again) I've turned to food for celebrations and for social outings with friends. When I ate a box of Nerds for breakfast last week, I knew it was time to make some change. 

Years ago I found myself in a relationship where all we did was eat. I weighed in at a whopping 218 lbs. Yes, it's true... and to my good friend in Miami please continue to hide (or burn) those photos from that trip when we were all big and round. At that weight I was not healthy. The weight on my body made it hard for me to run and I just didn't take good care of myself. 

Now, 40 lbs lighter I'm still not satisfied but I'm feeling a lot better than I did before. 

Moving into the new year and my 30th birthday (big what?!?) I'll choose to enjoy food more, not become obese (again), and I'll not equate my food with how many calories I've burned the previous day.

I will not torture myself for eating a piece of bread or having a glass of wine. But I'll stop myself before I eat the entire loaf of bread and the full bottle of wine.

Let this be a lesson that while a guy will never walk out on us when they're exposed to our "muffin top"we should not walk out on ourselves.

S.G.

I'm a nice person.

It's been a little over a month since I returned from my volunteer trip in Africa and it feels like years. I received an email from a friend I made on the trip asking me, "Wo ho te sen?" which means "How are you?" in Twi which is the native language in Ghana. My heart ached for the two and half weeks that I spent teaching some very rambunctious 3rd graders and carrying bricks to build a new school. I winced when I thought of the days where we carried bowls of water on our heads from the well and drops of water would fall down my face. I secretly think I had major stomach issues from a couple of those drops falling in my mouth. I digress.

Returning back to the U.S. and ramping up rather quickly for Thanksgiving and Christmas I found myself out and about in the city with this intense need to consume. "I have to buy things," I kept telling myself. And so I found myself at the grocery store, TARGET, the mall, trying to find things that I needed and getting rid of things that I don't.

The holidays bring out the best (and worst) in many of us. I found myself at the grocery store buying cream cheese for a raspberry cheesecake (it was in fact delicious by the way) and I graciously thanked the woman behind the counter and wished her a happy holiday. I smiled, walked back to my car, hopped in and drove home.

I remember when I wasn't so happy. When a trip to buy cheesecake felt like the end of the world.
Now things are quite different.
I'm filled with love and faith.
I gave a homeless person $20 on my way to my Dad's house on Christmas day.
I believe in the good in people again.


Experiences from my younger days molded me into the person that I am.
Bad experiences hardened me from opening up and taking risks.
Every day that I move away from those experiences, is a new day to take a risk.
A new day to share love.
The farther we move ourselves from those people, that behavior, whatever those "bad" things may be, the more we move back over to good.

It's been a good amount of time since I've been in a bad thing.
The days and months away have me finding myself and getting back to the true person I am.

I am hopeful and giving.
I am selfless and loving.
I believe in the good in people.
I am a nice person.