Saturday, January 30, 2016

Dick Pics (NSFW)


Pictured above is an actual dick pic I received, minus the snowman. It was sent to me by a guy who was trying to convince me to sleep with him. 

I had an interesting discussion about dick pics with several female friends. In our fabulous age of technology, the dick pic has become a new phenomena. 

Is a guy pissed off at you? Dick pic. 
Is he trying to get you to sleep with him? Dick pic. 
Is he trying to be funny? Dick pic. 
Is a guy feeling rejected by a girl? Dick pic. 

The dick has taken on a new life of its own, beyond erection for sexual conquest. It has become an icon, a multi-meaning, unwelcome symbol of a man's frustrations, abnormalities, pride, and jealousies. Behold, the dick. 

I would say that 100% of the time, guys who send dick pics are actual dicks. Think about it - who would want to receive a picture of a dick? About 90% of the time that they are received, dick pics are unwelcome. Much like diarrhea, they appear at the most inconvenient moments. 

Are you out with your family? Dick pic. 
Are you at work? Dick pic. 
Are you with your significant other and a guy from your past is trying to contact you? Dick pic. 
Are you out with your friends? Dick pic - and laughs and criticism of the dick. 

Here's an example of a dick sending a dick pic. When we were together, my ex had a hero, his friend "Bob." Bob was a man, aged 40, who was married with two children, and who would rub up on 20-somethings every time it was "Guys Night Out." One day, my ex revealed to me that Bob had dick pics on his phone.
"He's having an affair, or trying to." I told him.
"No way!" 
"Are you that dense? Who else would he be sending it to? He wouldn't need to send it to his wife because she gets the live show! He's trying to seduce someone." 

Female friends of mine periodically receive the dick pic during their dating conquests. Most of the time, it's from creepers online. They appear to be charming initially. Messages are exchanged. Enough trust is built that the female will disclose her cell phone number to switch from online messaging to text messaging. And...there...it...comes... 
DICK PIC! 

Remember the psychopath? He loved his dick pics. In fact, after I rejected him in 2014, he sent me a plethora of dick pics. The dick pic was a method of revenge and seduction in his mind.
"DO YOU SEE WHAT YOU'RE MISSING!?" he would angrily text me. And then, the dick pics.

The dick pic being sent as an expression of anger is definitely a trait for the psychopath. One of my female friends recounted for me some dick pics she received. She dated a guy for a little bit, but they stopped dating. There was no chemistry. This didn't sit well with him, even two years later. Out of the blue, on Facebook messenger, he sent her multiple dick pics. It was his way of trying to degrade her.

Here's the bottom line. Ladies, if a guy is sending you a dick pic, he's probably a dick himself. Guys, don't be a dick and send a dick pic. It's just not classy. 

Monday, January 25, 2016

Tinder in Miniature

Occasionally, as I swipe on Tinder, attempt to be struck by an arrow of love on OkCupid, or try to get a big catch on Plenty of Fish, I think to myself, "Why am I still single?" Then I get something like this, and my question is answered... 

Let's be honest. After seeing that guy, wouldn't you stay single? Yeesh. 

After many Tinder swipes, I thought I'd found a guy who seemed to be my match. He appeared tall in his photos, was an engineer, and - he was ARAB! His name was Ziyad. Sexy. 

I had agreed to meet Ziyad last Friday. It was against my better judgment - using up a Friday night on a first date. However, I thought this guy had promise. I was excited. We were supposed to meet up at one of my favorite bars. 

I was dressed in one of my favorite sweater dresses. Casual, but cute. I looked around at the bar for him. My eyes spotted him - there he was! And he was... tiny. There was my Tinder date, in miniature. 

I walked over and went through a mental analysis. Should I stand this guy up and just walk out, or should I make an appearance? I decided not to be an asshole. I went up to him and sat down in the chair next to him. 

After introducing ourselves to each other, we asked each other where the other was from. When I claimed my hometown, his reaction was, "Oh. Wow. That's shocking." He then proceeded to insult my hometown, saying it was low class and uneducated, as well as how he could barely stand it here. 

Now, I know my town isn't the best in the world, but damnit, it's MINE and nobody gets to insult it but me. I promptly put him in his place and identified all of the educated people I knew, including myself and my family.

"And further," I said to him, "If you don't like it here, then why don't you quit your job and move out of here? If you don't like the city that's feeding you, then get the hell out. Nobody is forcing you to stay here." He simmered down. 

The second shock was that he wasn't really Arab. He actually turned out to be a WARAB. 

What on earth is a Warab? Warab means "wannabe Arab." Ah yes, they do exist. A Warab is someone who poses as an Arab hoping to attract Arab women. This guy, Ziyad, was mixed race. He was half Indian and half some type of ethnic mix from Afghanistan that included Pashtun and something else. Definitely not Arab. However, his mother grew up in Morocco, as did he. Therefore, he self-identifies as Arab, even though he's not Arab. He's a wannabe Arab. Warab. 

Not only was the Warab tiny, the Warab also was an atheist and insisted on debating religion with me. Who debates religion on a Friday night in a bar? Not my idea of a good time. 

We left the bar, and he continued texting me. I stopped responding, hoping he'd get the hint. He didn't, and this little interaction ensued: 



He must have been smoking crack while I went to the bathroom during the date because there is no way that anyone with two brain cells would have thought that I would have wanted a round two with this dude. Ugh!

When I sent the above text, I was out with one of my guy friends and let him know what I sent in the text.

"Why did you say 'have a great night'?" 
"Just to be nice."
"But you just rejected him!" 
"Well, maybe it'll soften the blow." 

To be honest, I didn't care if it softened the blow, but I still wanted to be polite. 

Even feisty little shrimp have feelings. 

Monday, January 18, 2016

Dreaming with a Broken Heart


I'm a John Mayer fan. One of his songs, "Dreaming with a Broken Heart," was a sweet song about heartbreak. He sings about constantly dreaming about his ex, only to have the hurtful revelation every morning that she has left him. I never quite related to the song until recently. 

Periodically, I have dreams about my ex. I started writing them down in my journal to see what might be triggering the dreams. I would tell my counselor about them. We would break the dreams down and figure out the lessons behind each one. 

Usually, a dream would pop up after I've had a run in with my ex, or stumbled across some old memory of him in my home. In my new, ex-free apartment, I thought that for sure these dreams of him would stop. Another one popped up last night. 

This dream featured mostly his mother. My ex was more in the background, but still ever-present. His family was in my new apartment, but my new apartment didn't look like the one I am in presently. It was odd. His family was helping me move in, and he was there, too. When my ex and I were together, I had a good relationship with his mother. When we would visit his hometown, I would have coffee with his mother in the mornings, chatting about different topics. She and I had shopping trips together. She was a good woman, and she was the star of my dream. 

When his mother entered my apartment, I said to her how nice it was to see her again. We conversed while we were setting up my place, and then we needed to run some errands. While we were in the car, she asked me why I stayed away from her and her family. 

"Because of [my ex]. I didn't know what to do after we broke up, so I stayed away. He was so cruel after the breakup. I was afraid."
"Listen, just because there's one asshole in the family doesn't mean we're all like that." I laughed in the dream. 

Then came time to go to the courthouse. We were to watch a marriage ceremony, and we were meeting up with my ex and the rest of his family there. It almost seemed like we were waiting for something other than the marriage ceremony. My ex was going to sit next to me, but another woman popped up in between us. It turned out to be another friend of mine that I haven't seen in four years. I was excited and started talking to her. My ex was still there, still watching me, waiting patiently for me. Then, I woke up. 

As I woke up, as with my other dreams, I paused. I was processing everything I experienced in the dream, and then came to the conclusion that it was just a dream and nothing more. These dreams felt so vivid to me that they felt true, but I needed to tell myself that they were not true. 

Perplexed about having this dream in my new apartment, I spoke with two of my closest, best friends. The first one is a female, married with children. 

"I still dream about my ex, the one who broke my heart." She proceeded to tell me about a recurring dream she has. 
"It must be the trauma of the heartbreak. It must have left a psychological impact which leads to the dreams. Our minds are still processing the hurt." It made sense to me. My ex may very well be the only man who really shattered my heart. I think I've done a pretty good job of putting the pieces back together, although my heart is more cynical. 

My other friend is a single male who also suffered a terrible heartbreak a few years ago. He said, "We're never the same after we have our hearts broken." 

I spent the rest of the day thinking about these things. Ultimately, it's true. I remember as a bratty teenager, I sometimes had fights with my mom. I'll admit it - sometimes they got intense. I didn't like it, and I know my mom didn't like it. My dad sat me down one day and told me that I shouldn't fight with my mom.
"Let me explain this to you. Close your eyes. Picture a piece of white paper. Do you see it? Is it nice and smooth? Does it look perfect? Okay. Now I want you to picture yourself crumpling the paper up. Make a ball with it. Did you do that? Now, try to make it smooth again. Does it look the same?" 

I opened my eyes. 
"No, it looks like a mess." 
"That's what happens when you hurt someone."  
I never said another cross word to my mom again after that. 

And so it is with our own broken hearts. Someone may have crumpled them up, but they're still there. We can still make them whole. They might not be completely the same, but they're not destroyed. 

It just takes time to heal, and sometimes the pain of the memories is part of the healing. The pain of the memories are what makes those lessons of the past stick in our minds, and it's our minds telling us, through a dream about our past, what the lessons are to remember. 

Happy dreaming. 

Friday, January 15, 2016

Love at Any Age

Photo Credit: Shutterstock. Artist: Brilevskaya.

Love is ageless. It can happen at any age. It doesn't matter who you are, or where you originated. Love can be as random as a bolt of lightning and just as electrifying.

Last Sunday was a dull, rainy day. I was feeling lackluster. I had just finished teaching at the church and was on my way back to my car, mulling over what I was going to eat for lunch.

An elderly woman approached me at the church with questions about available mass times. We began a conversation. She asked me if I was on my way to meet my husband and children. I smiled and told her that I was very much single and very much childless.

"Oh!" She seemed surprised. "Well, you're still very young."
I smiled at her. "I hope to meet the right person someday."
"You will. I did."

She went on to tell me more about herself. I learned that she was a widow of two years. She told me about her deceased husband, Sam, and how much they loved each other. Her eyes were shining while she told me about him. I learned that she was only a seasonal visitor. Then she told me something that took me by surprise. She'd fallen in love again.

"I never thought I would feel like this, not after my Sam. We were married for forty-seven years. I feel almost foolish, but I think I've really fallen in love." As she said the words, "I think I've really fallen in love," she seemed youthful. She seemed like a young girl. She glowed, and it was beautiful to see.
I said to her, "Love is ageless. Love can happen at any time. It's timeless."

I asked her about this fellow who seemed to capture her heart. I was intrigued by the whole situation. I was intrigued that a stranger would open herself to me like this, and I was intrigued that this elderly woman was experiencing the same types of feelings that young lovers do. Not just the feeling of love, but to fall in love and be giddy about it. It was beautiful.

She expressed some concerns. She had a friend in her hometown who was ill.
"I need to fly back and care for her. I can't leave her. I don't know how he'll take that. I'll be gone for a very long time." She lowered her eyes. She appeared saddened at the thought of him abandoning her.
"If he's right for you, he will understand, and he will wait. He will stay in touch, and you two will be reunited."
"Yes, that's true." She looked up at me. Her eyes brightened. "You're right. Thank you for saying that."

We parted ways, but she left an impression on me. It was her hope. It was her sparkle. It was the idea that love is still possible.

I hope that whatever happens, she receives happiness, and that this man she's met in my small town brings her the same love and happiness that Sam did.

Tuesday, January 12, 2016

Time for Myself

Image: "The Persistence of Memory" by Salvador Dali

Lately, I've found that my biggest challenge has been to find time for myself. After being launched into singlehood, I made it my mission to keep myself as busy as possible with friends, family, and volunteer work. I donate my time to a non-profit organization, I teach Sunday school, I'm on a professional work-related committee that meets at different locations in my state throughout the year, and my job is demanding as well. I've also noticed that I've been working longer and longer hours at work. Coming home at 9 or 10 at night is almost becoming routine for me. Working during the afternoon on a Saturday or Sunday is becoming more common. Dating is taking a nose dive. I'm usually too tired to go out, and when I do force myself out, I'm ready to come home early (although I have been known to stay out until 3 a.m. and then start my week all over in an exhausted state). It's a little scary.

Last night after coming home at 10 p.m., I had to ask myself why. Why am I doing this to myself? I think it's because I stopped taking a step back. I stopped smelling the roses. I stopped dating myself. I started dating work, volunteering, charity, and church. I've increased the hours I put in to all of these things. It's okay for me to do these projects, but I really need to make more time for myself and my own personal life.

Being a lawyer, I know that long hours at work come with the territory, but I need to keep time to myself, too. Work will always be there. Opportunities for happiness and love may not always be there. Family time is important, too, but so is time to myself.

I think it's time for me to cut back. It's time for me to take a break. It's time for me to rest. I need to make time for dating and make time for the opportunity that dating might bring me - a shot at some true love.

Now, I've already made peace with the idea that I may never have love. I may never get married. I still hope for it, but after being what I've been through with my ex, and seeing other friends of mine who married and divorced just as quickly, I'd rather be single than badly partnered.

On the same token, I'd rather have love with someone else than be single.

To have love with someone else, I need to have myself.