Age Ain't Just A Number

I'm pretty sure I had the shortest date in dating history, at least in my dating history. A grand total of 10 minutes was all it took for me to deliver a giant go f* yourself to a guy and walk right out. 

Yes, you read that correctly - I walked out of the date. 

Here's the back story. I met this guy off Bumble. He was age 37. Fit. Sandy blonde hair. Blue eyes. Tall. Active. Muscles to die for. You get the picture. He was pretty hot. We started chatting on the app. Eventually, we exchanged phone numbers and texted back and forth. After a couple of weeks of texting, we decided to meet in person. He chose a local restaurant that was a pretty nice place. 

He got to the restaurant 10 minutes earlier than our meet time, which I liked because it showed that he cared. Little did I know what was in store for me. When I got to the restaurant, I looked around for him in the bar area. Where is this guy? So I texted him. I then saw a man in a ball cap look up and wave at me. 

When I got close to him, I realized that my cute 37-year-old date had aged about 10 years and didn't look like the pictures at all. What the hell! I thought. There is no way that this guy is in his 30s. No freaking way.

He got up from his stool and greeted me as "Counselor." What the f*! We are not in court and I am not your freaking lawyer. I hate it when people call me Counselor if they're not judges. It's so irritating. It makes me feel like I'm at work. 

We started chatting. As he spoke, I studied his face and concluded that either this man had been baking in the sun since birth or he had lied about his age to me. I decided to confirm the latter theory. 

"So your profile says you're 37?" 

"Actually I changed it to 39, but I'm really 45." 

"45? Did you tell me you were 45 before today?" 

"No, but age is just a number, and I'm not attracted to women in their 40s. I don't feel 45, and you know, those filters on Bumble, they hinder what I'm looking for. Besides, you never asked me what my real age is." 

Age is just a number? Yeah right. And jail is just a room. And why did this nut think that I needed to ask what his age was? It's on the profile! Lying is a thing now?

At this point, I decided that I needed to figure things out and fast. What am I going to do? Do I sit and small talk my way through a beer, or do I cut to the chase and get out of dodge? 

I decided to try to small talk my way out of the date, very awkwardly. He ordered a second beer. 

Really, dude? You thought this date was going well enough that you decided to order a second beer?

I decided to go to a fool-proof area for the white, American male: the Superbowl. I asked him if he was ready for the Big Game. 

"I didn't really think about it. Who is playing this year?" 

Yes, you read that correctly. This man was actually asking me who was playing in the Big Game. 

"You seriously don't know?"

"Well, um, I think it's Philadelphia and New England, right?" 

"Yes - you really didn't know?" 

"I'm a Packers fan."

"So you're not cheering against the Pats? Doesn't everybody hate the Pats?" 

Then he got on an elaborate explanation about Tom Brady, Belichick, and Robert Kraft, and how much he admired each of these men. I thought he was ready to get on his knees and pleasure them the way he was talking about them. Then he called Kraft a "stand-up guy, a real class act." 

"I disagree with that." 

"Why?" 

"Well, I told you I was Palestinian. Kraft is anti-Palestinian." 

"What does that mean?" 

I then gave a brief explanation of why Israel's ethnic cleansing of Palestinians is a problem for me; shockingly, this is beyond a lot of people's common sense. 

He replied, "Oh this is getting into politics. Can we just stick to the basics?" I was irritated. Not only did this guy not give a crap about a human rights issue that directly affected my ethnicity, but he was an ass to think that the basics didn't include simple things like what his true age was. 

"You mean, like what your real age is?" I decided to stop playing nice. I was going to end this date. "I'm not going to act like everything is okay right now. I'm going to be honest with you - I'm really turned off that you lied about your age. If I wanted a 45-year-old, I would have set my searches for men in their 40s. I don't want to date someone who has a significant age difference." 

He looked miffed. "Well, I was hoping we could be friends. I wasn't attracted to you." I laughed. 

"Oh really? Please. And we will not be friends - I'm not friends with men who are so desperate that they lie about their age." 

At that moment, I took a final sip of my drink, picked up my purse, and walked out the door. 

All in the span of 10 minutes. How's that for a number. 

Age is just a number the same way that jail is just a room. You can pretend all you want, but it is what it is. 

photo credit: https://me.me/i/age-is-just-a-number-yeah-and-jail-is-just-4044574 

FML

Needless to say, this summer has been a sure shit show for my dating life; the fall hasn't been much better.

After Creep cheated on me, I dated a cop briefly (I know, I know, big mistake). When I say briefly, I mean he ghosted me after two dates. Then, on Halloween, I met this fantastic guy who also ghosted me after we had one date and literally 5 minutes before the second date. WTF! (Ironically, he's still creeping me on Snapchat).

But the BIGGEST WTF came when I found out that my Ex the federal agent was now engaged to his cow of a 25-year-old girlfriend. Yes. They even have a wedding website set up.

FML. 

And you know, it's not even that I want the asshole back. It's that I'm pissed off that someone like him is getting the happy ending, and here I am, floundering to even get a freaking relationship off the ground.

Wouldn't that piss you off? Wouldn't it? 

Of course, I reported my findings about the engagement to my most trusted friends and family. I got the usual, "A leopard never changes his spots - it'll fail, just wait and see" and "You're fabulous, f*** that guy" and of course the usual and ever-so-popular "The right one will come along."

As much as I appreciate the words of comfort, it's all meaningless until it actually happens for me. You can tell me all day that I'll get the happy ending, but until it actually comes, they're just words.

Look at me, I'm 33 years old, and single, with no man even on my radar.

I know I'm beautiful. I know I have an amazing career. I'm making almost double than what I did at my old job. I know I have a great circle of friends and family. I know I have an amazing, fulfilling life.

Having an amazing, fulfilling life is part of the problem, though. I want to share it. Every year that goes by makes me want to share it even more.

I want to come home to a partner who is my equal. I want to give birth. I want my legacy to live on genetically. I want people to see my face in my children and remember me. I want to pass on my traditions and values through my children. I want to share my life.

2017 is coming to a close, and it's drop-kicking me in the ass on its way out.

FML. FML. FML.

Paranoia

I've said before, many times, that the first message that gets sent on a dating site is the most important. It's the hook. It's what you need to use to get a response from the person you've eyed. It's the modern-day pick-up line. 

Often, the initial message reveals a lot about a person. Is he funny? Is he sweet? Is he crazy? Is he shallow? 

Today, I got a message from a guy who immediately sets off to insult my gender. Observe: 

Now, let's look at these messages in a play-by-play. "You're too cute to be a lawyer." Does he think all lawyers are hairy beasts in black suits? Does he think that beautiful women are not smart? Clearly so. 

Look at the next part of his initial message - "People who play games are simply immature. However, women are far more guilty than men." Chauvinist alert! These two sentences reveal that (1) he thinks that he is mature; (2) he thinks that men are less capable of being immature and playing games; and (3) women are the ones who are immature and play games. 

That's why he got a three-word response from me. His initial message sucked! Note that he became defensive immediately when I didn't jump at his pick-up line. Of course, me being me, I called him out on his crap immediately. Observe: 

I ended up blocking him because after this last message, home skillet wanted to fight. Really dude? You don't even know me and you feel the urge to demonstrate your manhood to me by fighting with me? No thanks. 

In other news, I've been extremely selective in my dating since my last post. 

I do have a date on Tuesday... 

Fingers crossed that it goes well. 

Creep

Remember how excited I was to gush about my possible new love? Turns out he was a creep.  A cheater. A low-life scoundrel. I needed time to write about this because, honestly, my heart still feels like it's bleeding everywhere.

Normally, I would have included some of the texts that were flying between us, but there were so many. Re-reading them would have been too painful. As you can see, I'm still licking my battle wounds.

So what the hell happened? Well, I discovered in the most horrific way that my boyfriend couldn't keep his dick in his pants. In fact, it was in a condom that had never entered me. Looking back, there were signs. It's just that he was studying for the bar exam and was using the bar exam as his excuse for his disappearing texts and phone calls. Over the summer, I was seeing him and hearing from him less and less. I didn't push him because I didn't want to add to his stress. After a couple of weeks of his disappearing act, I point-blank asked him if I should just back off because it seemed he just wasn't interested in me. His answer: "No, it's just the bar exam. I'm just so busy. But I want you in my life. I care about you. I don't want you to go."

I believed him. Why wouldn't I? I remember how stressful that test was, and people handle stress differently. That's how I rationalized it. Never mind the fact that when I was studying for the bar exam, I was in a long-distance relationship with someone who had just started medical school in another state, and we were still able to talk on the phone every night, or at least text every day.

His uncle died last week. He cried on the phone to me. He wanted me to come over. I couldn't that night because my new boss needed some complex legal research done that was due the next day (you know, the classic 4 p.m. assignment). I told my boyfriend that I'd see him that Friday. He was supposed to travel to his family's house that was 2 hours away on Saturday for the funeral. By that point, we hadn't seen each other in over a month, and it was all because he was "just so busy."

When that Friday came, like a gleeful child, I stopped at the market to pick up dinner for us. I also decided to surprise him with about $50 worth of groceries - bottled water, study snacks, and an assortment of other goodies to show that I still cared despite his inattentiveness.

It was raining when I got to his apartment.  He hadn't gotten home yet. He usually left the door open and always told me I was welcome to go in, so I went in. I started loading the groceries into his apartment. He arrived a few minutes after I did. When he came up the stairs, he jumped. "I wasn't expecting you! I wanted to clean the place up before you got here." I told him I understood that sometimes an apartment goes into disarray during the bar exam. He rushed inside his apartment. I followed in after.

We started to talk, and then we kissed. Kissing lead to other things. During all of the action, I lost the back to one of the earrings I was wearing. While he was in the shower, I started looking for my earring backing. I checked everywhere. When I finally got to the bedroom, to my horror, I saw new condoms on the floor - 2 wrapped condoms, and one condom wrapper. You know, the kind of torn wrapper that you leave on the floor right before you're about to f*ck someone.

I felt the gut-punch. I couldn't speak. I felt panic. I went to the bathroom where he was. His phone was on the counter. I hesitated - should I do this? YES. YES YOU SHOULD. I went through his phone, and there it was - messages between him and another girl that spanned during the time he and I had started dating. I felt sick. I felt hurt. I yanked the shower curtain back and demanded an explanation. He denied everything and said the girl was happily married to his friend, that they have 2 kids, and that the condoms pre-dated our relationship. He became angry and told me never to pull the shower curtain on him again. When I confronted him with the text messages, then the girl became an old friend of his who was separated and that it was just talk and nothing more. He said that he lied to me about being exclusive with me and that he wasn't ready for it, but that he didn't sleep with anyone.

I didn't believe him. Not one word. He was defensive, and I know that when people are defensive and start changing their stories, they're liars. I took the groceries and went back to my apartment. I looked at him before I slammed the door. He looked devastated. I rushed to my car. After about ten minutes, he started texting me. It was a night full of text message apologies.

I called one of my best friends while I was driving back to my apartment. I could barely speak. I sobbed into the phone. I uttered the words I never wanted to say again, "He was cheating on me." She told me she was coming over, and she did. The minute I saw her, I went straight into her arms, sobbing as if there had been a death.

She stayed until about midnight, pouring out words of comfort to me. She let me cry as much as I wanted and rant as much as I wanted. We opened the bottle of wine I bought that I originally intended to share with him. She had a glass. I had a glass. After she left, I drank the whole bottle. I just wanted to numb myself and forget that I had a heart. It worked for a while, but the hurt and the rage never stopped. I couldn't sleep. I decided to go nuclear.

On Facebook, I confronted the side chick, then blocked her. I also messaged her husband and told him everything. I then blocked him. The next morning, my now ex started cussing me out, telling me I was a crazy bitch, that I ruined a marriage. My response: "You ruined the marriage when you stuck your dick in it." 

We fought via text all day. I had had enough. I finally relented and told him that he won. I told him he broke my heart. What more did he want from me? My heart was broken. I spent the day crying. I didn't want to leave my apartment. I was miserable.

The next day, I sent him a long text message essentially saying that I felt awful about all of the horrible things we said to each other and that he was now part of my past. He called me immediately. He said he was stressed. He insisted he hadn't slept with anyone since we'd been together. He said the condoms were old. He said the girls (that's right, plural) meant nothing to him and it was just flirting. He said he wished we could have talked things out. He apologized and said he realized that he pushed me to be my worst self because he had been treating me badly for the last month and a half. He didn't know how he felt about me because the bar exam had him wound up. We then agreed that we wouldn't speak for 2 weeks, let him get through the bar exam, and then we'd speak and decide if we wanted to start over fresh.

What an idiot I was.

He left for his family's house. He had taken the trash out. Something inside me still had doubts. I went to his place,  saw the trash outside, went through his trash, and found a used condom along with 3 discarded packages of single-dosage male virility pills with instructions to consume 30 minutes prior to sexual intercourse. Before our relationship, eh? The final nail in the coffin had been hammered. I texted him and told him that we were done, that I found the used condom, and that he was garbage to me. He responded and said that I was crazy and that he knows I found the condoms, and that's what caused all of this. I clarified to him that I found the used condom, not the wrapper, and that it was over between us. There were no second chances. I blocked him from my phone and every form of social media he could possibly contact me on.

On the drive home, I thought to myself what a fool I was. I started to blame myself for everything. I had thrown my rules out the window. I had done everything differently, and for what? I opened my heart to the wrong person. How could I have been so stupid?

Then I thought back to my friend's words - I'm not the one to blame. He's the one to blame. So often, women tend to blame themselves when things go wrong. We opened our hearts too soon, we did this too soon, we did that too soon, we should've done this differently, bla bla bla.

But we never blame the cheater. The cheater always gets away with it. The cheater is the poor pressured lamb who was pushed into cheating. Poor little cheater.

BULL F***ING SHIT! 

He cheated because he's a scoundrel, a creep, a low-life piece of trash. He didn't cheat because I pressured him into a relationship or because I did anything. He cheated because he wanted to, and he had the maturity of a twenty-year-old boy instead of a thirty-three-year-old man.

All I can say is that I hope that motherf***er fails the bar exam and endures nothing but suffering throughout his life. I hope he catches an STD and dies from it. I have nothing but hate for him. Every time I think about every single lie he probably told to my face, I get angrier.

Maybe one day I'll forgive him... but not today. Today, I am not the bigger person and I am not the well-wisher.

Today, I am the bitch.

Just One More Day

Two weeks ago, I was notified that my ex co-worker, "Angie," was found dead in her car. The news shocked me. Her death had been in the news, but I never expected it to be her. I saw her only days prior to her death, and she was happy, upbeat, and cheerful.

My life had changed radically over the last month. A larger law firm found out about me. A head hunter working for the firm contacted me. The law firm was my dream firm, one I had always wanted to work for. The partner saw my resume, scheduled me for an interview, and two days later I was hired. The story surrounding the interview is pretty humorous, but I'll save that for another post. The bottom line is that my life was getting a lot better. I was even hired for the money that I wanted, and it was a considerable chunk of money more per year than my old firm was paying me.

I gave my two-week notice. I was excited to leave my old firm. Angie was happy for me as well. I only knew her for roughly three months, but her death reminded me that there is a lot more going on with people under the surface than meets the eye.

Angie used to irritate me at work. I didn't like her much, and I wasn't very fond of her dog, either. It was a fat chihuahua that used to shit all over the office. I also used to be irritated about how she would flaunt her new boyfriend in the office. He knew her for a few days and was already sending flowers to her at the office. She was on cloud 9. After a while, the boyfriend thing seemed to simmer down.

Don't get me wrong - I don't think Angie should have died. She was only 26. Looking back, I realize now that she took emotions to the extreme. I wish I could have done more for her. I wish I could have realized it at the time, instead of now.

For a brief period, Angie tried stealing my work at the old firm. I know that most people get catapulted to instant sainthood after death, but Angie will always be just Angie to me. When I caught on to what she was doing with the cases I was working on, I did nothing. I let it go. I didn't think it was worth making waves because it was minor, but it inhibited me from trusting her. I started behaving dryly towards her. Angie picked up on it. After a few days, she confronted me in my office one morning.

She walked in, closed the door, and she looked calm.
"I need to talk to you."
"Sure, about what?"
"Oh, I think you know."
"Actually, I don't... can you enlighten me?"

Angie started to look like she was about to cry. Apparently, the managing attorney for the firm, the big boss, caught on to what Angie was doing on the cases and had given her a stern reprimand. Angie started apologizing profusely to me, saying how much she looked up to me. Her eyes started to tear. She told me that she never meant to offend me and that she knew she was no where near my level. I was surprised by all of it, including how emotional Angie was getting over it. I told her to relax, that I wasn't offended, and that all was well. After that day, I softened up towards her and gave her advice on legal practice. I just chalked it all up to her being an immature "baby lawyer." She was only 26 and barely out of law school.

Angie seemed to perk up after that. After a while, I noticed she would keep the door to her office closed. Out of the blue one day, she cleaned her office from top to bottom. We thought she was getting ready to quit.

One of the paralegals told me that Angie would huff a lot about the lack of work she was receiving. A few weeks later, Angie asked me if I could give her some work. By that time, I had given my two-week notice to the big boss. I asked Angie to work on a few motions that I needed to get done. She was excited and got to work immediately on it. She did a good job on the work I gave her, and I told her so. She was a smart girl and I told her that I trusted her work. She then complained to me about how the big boss wasn't giving her enough work. She was dissatisfied. I reminded her that she was still fresh to legal practice. I told her to be patient, and eventually she would have her own caseload. She hadn't even been at the firm for three months yet.

I saw her three days before she died. It was my last day at the old firm. Angie was happy for me. She asked me about my new firm. She was like a small puppy. She told me how the big boss had immediately started giving her more work to do now that I was leaving. She was excited, but she had bigger dreams. She then shared her dreams with me. She wanted to leave the firm in a year. She wanted to get some experience and open her own firm. Her eyes sparkled as she shared her dreams with me.

She told me how much she wanted to be like me. "You're such a bad ass. I hope I can be as good of a lawyer as you." My heart melted when she said that. I told her that she would. I told her she could do anything she wanted to do - all she had to do was go for it. She pitched the idea of us going into practice together. "Wouldn't that be awesome?" she asked me with a huge smile on her face. I smiled back at her. "Sure!" I didn't mean it at the time, but I said it like I did. I wanted her to be happy. I liked her smile.

When it was time for me to leave, I gave everyone a hug. Angie's hug was the warmest. She didn't just hug me - she held me, just a little longer than a hug would have lasted. She squeezed me tightly. I was leaving for a conference that I was already signed up to attend. Angie wanted to get together when I got back. I told her we would, but we never did.

I drove back on a Saturday. One of the paralegals texted me the news that Angie was found dead in the parking lot of a hardware store in her car. I was stunned. I didn't know what to say. She didn't know the cause of death, but police didn't think it was foul play. The paralegal promised to keep me informed if she heard anything about the cause of death or the funeral.

I knew that Angie had a neurological issue and a heart issue. Her neurological issue was one that caused her to pass out randomly. I immediately ruled out suicide. The girl had it all - she had a law degree, she was smart, she was starting her career, she had plans, she was gorgeous, and she had a new boyfriend. I also ruled out drug overdose because she was such a fitness freak. I theorized that she passed out in her car and died of heatstroke because the windows were rolled up. It seemed logical. That's what I believed. I convinced myself of my own theory.

I got the news of her memorial. I planned to go to it with people from my old office. The big boss couldn't be bothered to attend Angie's funeral. The accountant had a class. The paralegal that had broken the news to me suddenly had a sick cat that she had to take to the vet. All of it outraged me. This was Angie. Can't we honor her?

I rode with another paralegal that I was close with. She was about my mother's age, and she was a huge gossip. If anyone had any information about anything, it would be her. On the drive to the church, I immediately tried pumping her for information. She gushed.

Angie shot herself in the head. There was blood spatter all over the car and all over the work computer. The computer was how the office found out about it. The police notified the big boss that they were holding on to the computer for investigation.

After I left the office, Angie disclosed that she had cervical cancer. The boyfriend Angie had was actually a married man who dumped her to go back to his wife. Angie had high hopes for him. The paralegal told me that Angie had created a "bucket list" to do with him. She had only dated him for a month. She told him that they were going to do everything on the list, but randomly. Angie told him that she would call him and give him ten minutes to get ready, and off they would go. The boyfriend thought she was nuts. Shortly after that was when he dumped her. The day that Angie shot herself was the day of or the day after the married man broke up with her.

Knowing Angie, she must have felt devastated and didn't have the emotional stability to deal with it. I'm sure she had more going on that she was upset about. She didn't call anyone. She must have withdrawn into herself, into that darkness, and concocted a plan to relieve herself of her emotional pain. I wish she hadn't gone through with it. I wish she had waited for the pain to pass.

I know what that darkness is like. A few years ago, I was in a deep depression. I never told anyone because I didn't want to bring anyone into the darkness. I thought I was crazy. I thought I was ugly for it. I couldn't get out of bed. I cried myself to sleep frequently. I hated waking up in the mornings. I didn't want to face the world. I didn't want to go to work. I just wanted to withdraw into myself and stay away from people. I was like this for months, but nobody knew because to the rest of the world, I would smile, laugh, and joke like I always did. My smile hid my pain.

I remember one night, it got really bad. I wanted to die. It was all I could think about. I was consumed by the allure of death. I took some steps to make it happen. I almost made it happen. I remember the following day, I was half angry and half relieved that I wasn't dead. Today, I'm really glad that I'm alive because I have so much to live for, and so did Angie. Death isn't worth it. I wish Angie had waited one more day because she would have seen that darkness disappear. She would have realized that the darkness is temporary. She would have realized that it's not worth dying.

The memorial for Angie angered me. It was a non-denominational Christian service. The preacher was terrible and barely said anything about Angie's life. The whole service was geared at converting people. It didn't feel like it was honoring Angie.

The paralegal and I went out for lunch after the memorial. We went to an eclectic restaurant that I like to frequent. We toasted to Angie - to the girl with the bright smile, may you rest in peace.

To anyone else reading this who is thinking about suicide - please don't do it. Please wait just one more day. Any time that darkness is consuming you, just wait one more day. Always wait one more day. I promise that the darkness will pass.

Negativity

Have you ever noticed that whenever you come across some happiness in love, there's always those people who want to crap all over it? You know who I'm talking about - the people who want to criticize, tell you why you need to be careful, tell you why you should keep your "options open" even though you're in a committed relationship, and tell you why things aren't what they seem to you.

This is negativity. All of those criticisms aren't cautious advice. It's not someone being a friend. It's that "friend" being a hater.

This past weekend, I was away for business and spent time with two different friends of mine who exhibited this negative behavior. When I came home, I had to wash the stink of their negativity off me. I'll call them "Dina" and "Alexa."

Dina is a few years older than me. She was a law school classmate. After telling her about my newest love interest, she started to rain down with unwelcome advice on me. I politely, but sternly, told her that when I want her advice, I'll ask for it. She apologized and changed her tune the following day, but the rest of the weekend was still filled with negativity towards relationships in general.

Dina had gone through a divorce years prior. It was clear that the divorce still affected her. Dina had a warped view of men. According to her, they are all cheaters, liars, and thieves in relationships. Men, according to Dina, are not to be trusted. Relationships are shams. She claims to be too busy for a relationship. She never goes out. She never dates, because she never knows when the person she is dating will turn into someone that might become relevant to a case of hers. "I never shit where I eat!" she would proudly proclaim to me. My response to her was that she was shutting herself out of an entire world of possibilities and putting a block on her heart. Dina constantly talked about work - the lawyers she has gone against, her cases, her trials. I commend her for her professional achievements, but beyond her small county, nobody knows who she is or these lawyers she's gone against. Dina is not Johnnie Cochran, but in her mind she is, and every client of hers is OJ Simpson. In her mind, she is the quintessential woman lawyer to ever have lived. God forbid a man add to her happiness.

One evening, I told her she should allow herself to get to know someone. She kept repeating to me, "I don't need a man to make me happy." My response to her was this, "Nobody should need another person to make them happy, but there's nothing wrong with allowing someone to make you happy." I then pointed to her a poem by the great Khalil Gibran. In his work The Prophet, Gibran's character, Almitra, preaches to the people about various topics, including marriage. Here's an excerpt:

"Give your hearts, but not into each other's keeping.
For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.
And stand together yet not too near together:
For the pillars of the temple stand apart,
And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other's shadow."

This is what marriage is - the coming together of two distinct individuals that become one, but they are not overcome by the other. They are together and distinct at the same time.

After I explained this concept to her, Dina pondered for a moment. I then told her that she is never going to get close to anyone until she removes the self-imposed block on her heart. It's not that other people are evil or pose an obstacle for her. It's that she makes other people evil or makes them into an obstacle.

Now, let's turn to Alexa. Alexa is a woman in her mid-twenties. Although Alexa allows herself to become involved in relationships, she still shares the negativity quality of Dina. Alexa is the serial dater. During the years I've known Alexa, she's always had two men lined up every time she has had a break-up. The woman has never been single for more than a week. In many respects, Alexa is like Dina. Although she dates, she never allows any man to make a significant connection with her. Alexa's relationships are filled with dates, sex, and parties. There's never a true development to lead to anything seriously. Alexa's relationships have never progressed beyond the traditional one-year period. After one year, Alexa is single with two more men lined up. Even while in the relationship, Alexa is still talking to other men, keeping them on the backburner until her main squeeze has been squeezed out. Alexa attempted to counsel me on her methods, attempting to convince me that I should date other people, even if I am committed to one person. Her reasoning was that men don't always commit, so why should we? I politely declined her advice.

We have two different women - one who stays away completely from relationships, and the other who uses them and switches them out like purses to an outfit. At the end of the day, both women will always remain single, not because they are undesirable or unfit. They will always remain single because they choose to be single. They choose to be single because they harbor a negative mindset towards men and relationships.

I've learned over time that a negative mindset is what dooms any relationship. One can't go into a relationship waiting for the bottom to fall out. If that's what you expect to happen, it will. If you go into a relationship with happiness and positivity, then you will receive happiness and positivity.

It's all about perception, and when it comes to love, what you see is what you get.

Fake Friends Are True Enemies

Here's a basic rule about making friends at work: don't. Just don't.

I would estimate that 99% of people who you think are your friends from work aren't your friends at all. The moment that their needs change based on your position, they will disappear. After quitting my job, I was faced with the reality that the majority of people that I thought were allies were always just snakes in the grass, generating and circulating rumors about me.

I remember that after I had quit and my old office announced my departure, my phone was flooded with three different types of inquiries. The first type was - "Are you okay? What happened?" because God forbid I decide to do something for myself, and these people were just fishing for information. The second type was - "Why didn't you say anything to me?" as if I had some kind of obligation to clue people in to my personal plans. The third type was - "Wow! Good for you! Let's catch up!"  because these people were actually happy that I escaped an environment that wasn't working for me.

Most people fell into the first and second categories. About three people fell into the third category. The people that fell into the third category are the ones I still talk to from what I like to call "my old life." The people from the first two categories are the ones who started a lot of the gossip, didn't keep in touch, and were only looking for something from me to validate their petty conspiracy theories. Good drama makes good gossip, but good gossip doesn't make good friends.

In law, I've realized that it's better to keep to yourself. When you want to make a career move, you have zero obligation to tell anyone else about it. The people who feel that you do owe them some explanation for your life and your choices are the ones who are not authentic. A real friend accepts your choices and doesn't try to concoct explanations for why you do things. A real friend remains patient because a real friend knows that you'll be ready to talk whenever you're ready to talk.

Work "friends" are the worst because they are the ones who will take your information to use it to their advantage. They will try to twist and manipulate once you're not there to defend yourself, all to elevate themselves. They want to make themselves look like heroes, because how dare you leave them behind to their pettiness.

It's been refreshing to purge myself of all of the gunk I had in my life. When it comes to work, know that there will always be snakes in the grass. That's just how work environments are. People call themselves a team, but the truth of it is that everyone will throw you under the bus if it means they can get ahead.

When it comes to work, trust no one. They might smile at you, and seem kind and endearing, but know that what they carry behind their backs is a long knife with your name on it.


photo credit: https://www.friendsquotation.com/18425/fake-friends-believe-in-rumors.php