Creepers

Another stunning trend seems to be emerging in the dating world around me - the married guy. 

That's right! The ring don't mean a thing. Married men are out and about and trolling for the single ladies, like this guy on Tinder... 

Disgusting, right?

Not all men cheat on their wives. I know many good, genuine men who are happily married and have never even dreamed of cheating on their wives. When faced with temptation, they turn the other way. However, it's necessary to address the segment of the male population that is what I term the Creeper.

The term "creeping" means cheating. "Is he creepin'?" means "Is he cheating?"

A creeper is someone who is cheating, or just a weirdo. For the purposes of this post, a creeper is a cheater. Creepers are everywhere, and they're not always honest about their true identity as you saw in the Facebook post above.

I occasionally encounter the creeper while I'm out and about. I politely tell the creeper to creep elsewhere. A persistent creeper, however, may almost sweep you off your feet...almost.

Take my friend "Mina" for example. Mina does not want to accept the fact that she's dating a creeper. She's been dating a married man for about nine months. Her creeper boyfriend claims that he's getting a divorce, yet his Facebook is filled to the brim with images of him and his wife together - not quite the picture of an unhappily married couple. There is not one photo of Mina anywhere. There is not even a sliver of Mina anywhere on his Facebook. This is indicative of  one thing: a creeper.

Last night, a creeper attempted to sweep me off my feet. I told him to f*** off. I was at a dance club with some friends. We took a break from dancing and were sitting in the lounge area above the dance floor at a table. A creeper approached. I had noticed the creeper earlier and found him to be quite handsome.

When he approached me, he said, "You're too beautiful to be sitting here. Come with me. Dance with me." He took me by the hand and was about to lead me to the dance floor until I saw the golden clue on his left hand - a wedding ring. I pointed to it and said, "You're married!"
"And?"
"Get away from me."
He lifted his hands and walked away.

Later on in the evening, I saw him with a different woman. She had no wedding ring.

Unfortunately, not everyone places the same value on marriage. Last night was a reminder that I need a man who is as traditional as I am and who views marriage as something as precious as the gold on Heaven's Gates. Otherwise, I'll get stuck with a creeper. One of my best friends has a saying that I always remember when it comes to matters of betrayal, "If they'll do it with you, they'll do it to you." 

Just remember this: Married guys who cheat on their wives are shitheads, like this guy below. Don't marry a shithead. Put the creeper type exactly where the shit belongs - in the toilet, flushed away, and away from you.

The Downgrade

Photo Credit: someecards.com

This past Saturday, I went to a beer festival with some friends. It was fabulous. The beer was flowing. The music was playing. I was feeling wonderful. I was wearing one of my favorite sweaters that made my boobs look great, my favorite perfume, my favorite boots, and the jeans that make my ass look extraordinarily amazing. I was groovin'! 

There was one particular beer I was in hot pursuit of - a coconut brew. I was hounding every single booth for it. In my hot pursuit, I came across something not so hot - my ex. I froze. I wanted to go the other way. I immediately directed my friends to reverse and go in the opposite direction. Before we left the area, I paused. I watched him. Who was he with? And then I saw her - the Downgrade! 

What is a downgrade? A downgrade is the person your ex dates after you break up, but is no where near your level. Your ex is not dating better than you. Your ex is dating someone below you. 

And there she was - the 25 year old dietitian, who looked cute in the photo I had seen online, but in person she was lackluster. She was a Monet - she looked good from a distance, but up close, she wasn't anything to marvel at. My friends agreed, and I felt even better. Here I was, the hot lawyer with the amazing ass, laughing at my ex with his downgrade. 

After a few moments and exhausting all of the booths on one side of the festival, I came to a resolution - f*ck that guy! I decided to stop being fearful of my ex and start enjoying my time out! I was with two of my closest friends. I wasn't going to let this guy interrupt my beer blasting. 

It was with this new gusto that I immediately adjusted my attitude and proceeded to enjoy the rest of the evening, taking comfort in the knowledge that my ex was with a downgrade. During another part of the evening, I noticed that the downgrade was attempting to display affection. She was saying something to him and rubbing his waist. He seemed indifferent to this public petting. He then turned his face and began walking away from her, and she proceeded to follow him like a small poodle. It looked like trouble in paradise. I kept walking with my friends. 

There were close encounters with the ex about two more times during the evening. One of my friends pointed out that the downgrade was giving me a stare-down, which means two things: (1) my ex saw me and (2) he pointed me out to the downgrade. 

I have no explanation for why he would have pointed me out to the downgrade. What I do know is that I got satisfaction out of it. 

When it comes to an ex, always take the high road. However, it will always be okay to laugh and take pleasure in seeing your ex with a downgrade, especially if it was the ex that shattered your heart and told you that you weren't good enough. 

Cheers to the downgrade. She's one hell of a 5. 

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. 

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. 

Dreaming with a Broken Heart

photo credit: johnhembree.com

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. 

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.

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.