The Bread + Butter Theory

Before you go off the deep end, this is not an entry about watching your carbs or fat intake. I will not today (nor any other day) instruct any woman what to put in her mouth, teach her how to count calories, or suggest how many bites of chocolate chip cookie skillet to have. But if you are looking for that advice: Eat as much of that cookie skillet as you can girl. Cookie skillet is the spice of life.

The bread + butter theory is a tribute to a best friend and phenomenal woman who came in my life roughly twelve years ago. She was generous, she was kind, and she was unlike any person I’ve ever met. She was also 5 years older than me and very wise when it came to the opposite sex.

I remember sharing dinner with her catching up on all the things us girls like to catch up on. I don’t remember who I was dating at that time (he was probably a tool) but I do remember my conversation with her very vividly.

There was a basket of bread in front of us with some room temperature butter to complement. She picked up a piece of the bread and explained her theory which I’m sure I won’t do justice years later but at least I’ll try:

Ladies, you are bread. You’re rich and delicious. It took a long time to get to where you are today, the person you are and what you represent. You come in all flavors and shapes and occasionally you grow furry green mold. (I’m only kidding about the mold.) You’re slightly rough on the exterior and at your core you are soft, warm, and completely amazing.

In every relationship we give a little bit of ourselves to someone - a little bit of our bread. In some relationships we throw down a few crumbs or a little tear of crust, but in other relationships we give much more. In my most recent relationship I pretty much dumped a bakery onto the guy. I had given all of my bread and sadly was left with a basket full of oily room temperature butter.

When we give too much of ourselves we often times lose who we are. When the love (or lust) ends we find ourselves assessing the damage, pulling the pieces back together and starting over. This is not to say that you shouldn’t share your loaf with anyone ever again. This is only to say to share wisely, and when you find yourself with crust and crumbs take some time to bake again before heading back out there.

Let the guys be your butter. They’ll be yummy, they’ll be sweet, and they will complement you in many ways. You’ll have many options to choose from, different packages, different flavors, and when you think there’s nothing left you’ll be pleasantly surprised when a new supply comes along.

A short lesson with a tasty twist. A tribute to a woman who was wise beyond her years and who understood the unique recipe in each and every one of us.

Besitos Malos!

I think kissing is tops. The cat's meow. Sliced bread.
Simply stated, it's awesome.

Bad kissing. Eh... Not so much.

There's a guy in my world who is amazing. He's smart, funny, successful. When I was in a committed relationship I wondered occasionally what would've happened if he and I had dated instead.

We were always friends and nothing more. We'd grab dinner, swap stories about dating, and just hang out. Then one day I found myself single and on the rebound. I inadvertently orchestrated a "date" with him over the weekend in the hopes it might turn into something bigger.

And boy did it ever.

The night started with movies, a glass of wine, some jokes. And then it was all downhill. Can I just say I've never actually had a bad kissing experience in my life? Boy had I dodged a mammoth bullet. That was until this night.

My mouth was assaulted. Had I not been laughed at by the police I would've filed a report and sought therapy to get through the "attack". It was like kissing a goldfish. Wait, not a goldfish. It was like kissing those fish that permanently suction themselves onto the side of the fish tank and don't move.

More often than not taking a friendship to the next level means you can never go back. Some friends should always be friends - not fish.

I was lucky enough for things to go back to normal after our bad kissing experience. Our relationship is status quo and we still get together to catch up.

The easy lesson learned here is if you see a guy that could moonlight as a sucking fish you should run. The hard lesson is you can't really tell what you're getting into until you try. Some kisses may end badly, some may end happily ever after.

Self-Help Me God

In every girl's life a little rain must fall. And during those torrential down pours I've often found myself in the self-help section of the local Barnes & Noble. Dating advice is everywhere and there will always be someone to share their views on why you're not dating, why you're not married, why you're married but shouldn't be. You get the idea.

I recently finished my graduate studies and was in a class with one of the most interesting (and entertaining) women I've ever met. She was always falling in and out of love and on our last night of class admitted she was finally ready to settle down. This of course was after her love affair with an ex boyfriend in jail had gone south.

She had recently picked up the most interesting book: "Why Men Love Bitches: From Doormat to Dreamgirl". I burst into laughter when I saw the title. "Is this how you're going to meet the man of your dreams? By being a complete beeeotch?"

I thumbed through the book and read the first few pages. Page one read: Act like a prize and you'll turn him into a believer. Really? Do you mean to say that we women are not already prizes? I was slightly jaded but willing to read more.

I read on to Attraction Principle #3: A woman is perceived as offering a mental challenge to the degree that a man doesn't feel he has 100% hold on her.

Interesting. So I should date, sleep with, get engaged, marry - and ultimately spend the rest of my life with a guy who never really feels like I'm fully there. I get it now! I will make myself difficult to make plans with not because I have a real life but because I will be a mental challenge to a guy.

"The bitch...makes plenty of peeps... and is bitching the whole way through." Every man I've dated has thought nagging is thee sexiest thing ever. Nothing says lets go crazy on each other like me not being able to shut my mouth.

There's a true difference between being a bitch and being a confident woman. Bitches are just rude. Confident women know what they want, are always ready to share their thoughts, and won't change who they are. But confident women are also kind and compassionate. They actually have souls. And while they don't always give in they'll always give love.

Game Boy

Last Friday I had what I thought would be an exciting, enticing, and fun date. I was as wrong as the day is long. My Friday night rendezvous was horribly cute (if you haven’t figured it out yet, I’m a sucker for the horribly cute ones). And the night I met him when he slipped me his number I was more than intrigued and called him the next day. Our back and forth chats went on for a week until we finally met up on Friday.

Have you ever been let down ladies? Have you ever woke up in the morning blow dried, flat ironed, deep conditioned, washed, rinsed, dried again and then styled your hair only to walk outside and have the rain pour down on your face and ruin your day? Those days pretty much blow. And so did my date.

My date was 15 minutes late (no biggie). He’d worked extra hard to pick out his outfit (read sarcasm) of cargo shorts, skater shoes, and a stylish wallet with a chain that connected to the front of his belt. His t-shirt was reminiscent of an Ed Hardy knock off and he wore the most peculiar Clark Kent glasses that left me unconvinced they actually served a purpose.

His attire limited us to beers only and if I was lucky we might even grab a long board and head to the skate boarding parks along Lake Michigan. On our walk to the neighborhood bar I was informed he sewed his own clothes and had recently purchased a sewing machine. Endearing for some, horribly awkward for one that has hardware connecting his cash to his behind.

We walked and chatted. The weather was gorgeous and he indicated that he was also an amateur photographer and wished he had brought his good camera. “I do have a small camera that I carry around to capture these moments,” he said as he reached into his pocket to pull out what would soon be discussed with every girlfriend that would listen...

It was smooth. It had round edges and a sleek finish that was undeniably… baby blue.
A Game Boy Advance. Oh yes, and it had a built in camera to accompany the high tech stylus that he maneuvered with such ease.

The rest of the evening is a blur. I remember sharing a pizza, a fumbling lunge at the end of the night in an attempt to kiss me, and the “give me a call sometime” awkwardness when it was clear there would be no sometime. Ever.

First dates can sometimes be an uncomfortable experience. First dates with someone who carries around a game console in his back pocket is even more awkward. People can be quirky. They can be unique. And when you find love you’ll accept the inner workings and nuances of the person of your dreams. That being said, even if you’re middle name is Mario (or Luigi) and you know how to “kick, push, and coast” please (I beg of you) leave your Game Boy at home.

Textual Innuendos

I had a short-lived dating experience with a guy that didn't like talking on the phone. On our first date he informed me of this "personal preference" which (because he was horribly cute) I understood completely and obliged.

I spent the next two months texting, emailing, and if I still had a Facebook account I probably would have poked him or thrown a sheep at him.

After a handful of dates the text messaging went from an every day occurrence to an every 4-5 day sporadic communication. I over analyzed every message I received and sent test text messages to make sure my service was still in tact. Did a period at the end of "I had a really great time with you" mean he was less excited than the message 2 minutes earlier that ended with an exclamation?

And if there was an exclamation point (or god forbid, a smiley face) at the end of a statement, I was day dreaming about our destination wedding and how I'd decide on my maid of honor (my sister and a really close friend will have to duke it out at some point).

When did emoticons begin to equate our level of interest for the opposite sex? There's no emoticon that says, "I really like you and think we should talk about where this is going" or even worse "I slept with someone else but will never do it again".

I also dated someone once that broke things off via email. I'll spare the details and include them in a later post but share the following words of wisdom:

Relationships are complicated. Dating is not. A guy that's interested will not communicate his affection in 250 characters or less. He'll use any method (be it plane, train, or even automobile) to let you know he's interested and the incoming message will always be crystal clear. Proverbial send.

Being a single girl is hard.

Face it, my female friends. Being a single girl is hard. Being a single girl and having to regurgitate every unfortunate date you go on is even harder.

I've always been a blogger in some sense. Even last night I found myself pouring out my Friday night date with embarrassment, humor, and a small bit of pride.

My recent dating life has become more like a late night talk show - and sometimes a "skinemax" special. Since "sharing is caring" or at least that's what we're taught in grade school, I'm here to give you dating advice that you can use.

I was excited to start this forum and share with you the blunders and sometimes very painful mishaps that I've encountered in the dating world. I thought best to say hello first and then drop the bomb that is known as "bad dating choices". Now that's not to say my experiences have all been self-inflicted for lack of a better word. But I will say it's time to make better choices about where we place our dating bets and to do that we need each other.

So welcome to your new source for sharing, caring, maybe a little crying and of course laughing because without it we'd all join a convent.