Thursday, April 30, 2009


Someone tell me how I am suppose to answer this question.

Your Relationship Status is:

( ) Single
( ) Divorced
( ) Separated
( ) Widowed

I'm gonna employ the old "process of elimination" trick I used back in college.

Let's see: Widowed. Technically, I know that I am not. I don't have a husband that is dead. I have an EX-husband and I am blissfully unaware of whether or not he's still alive and kicking or if the poor schmuck is pushing daisies. Regardless, we can cross Widowed off the list. For now.

Next: Separated. Not anymore. I graduated from Separated to......


But at the same exact time, at the same exact moment - I am SINGLE.

So, what is the answer?

I am most displeased when I fill in the divorce bubble. Am I legally bound to fill in this bubble for the rest of my life? There has to be some sort of statue of limitations set on how long one has to be "DIVORCED" and not just plain 'ol single. Just like a credit account that slipped into delinquency, can't my marriage AND divorce simply "fall off" my credit report after a certain amount of time? My ex-husband and I do not have any children together, we have no legal ties to one another. For Fuck's sake, I find myself forgetting that the whole unpleasant experience happened in the first place.

Sometime this mid July will mark the moment in time where I have been divorced longer than I had been married. Readers that have paid attention will know this will be just a few days more than 2 years. TWO YEARS (and 10 days... but who is counting?)!

A marriage that lasted (and "lasted" implies it ever took off the ground in the first place, something that it did not) less than 2 years and was experienced by two individuals under the age of 25 should be treated similarly to when a juvenile commits a crime. Reprimand them, make them aware of the error of their ways, seek rehabilitation and have their record sealed so that their adult existence isn't tainted from this past transgression of their youth (and hope they don't become repeat offenders).

Ultimately, I suppose, I am upset by the way the word make me feel and the stigmas and connotations that I feel surround that word, that label, that status.

I guess that means that starting today I am taking back my Single-dom. Yes, I was married and it ended in divorced. Bu I AM not DIVORCED. I am single, unattached and without obligation to anyone. Anyone know any hotties looking for a date this weekend?

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

A return to form

I have a working list of thing I need to blog about. On it, I have: my half marathon, Earth day (and being on TV!), my Rock Band debut, becoming a Big Sister (no, my parents are not having a “geriatrics” baby… I’m becoming a Big Sister as in Big Brother Big Sister) and a myriad of other antic dotal tales.

Yesterday, however, I was reminded of one of the main reasons I felt I needed to start a blog: to be able to tell the stories of my dating life in one central location for my friends and family so that I needn’t craft 14 different emails to tell everyone about it. And I’m totally inflating that number to make it appear like I have 14 people in my life that give a damn.

We’ll call him Mr. Suspenders.

Mr. Suspenders contacted me via the “KC Pimp” dating site. I had utterly and completely forgotten I was a member, so it was quite a pleasant surprise to receive an email notification saying I had been sent a message… and from someone cute to boot! Emails were exchanged. Phone numbers were next and then we met for dinner last Thursday.

If I blogged Thursday night or… or actually ANY time prior to Monday evening you would have been reading about someone that I was really excited to have met. We had overlapping taste in music, movies, books, style, humor PLUS he wore suspenders and carried a pocket watch!

He laughed and appreciated my use of the word “jaunty.”

He used the word “capitol.”

After dinner, we took a nice walk and then he offered to walk me home. After I made him promise to not get too fresh, I invited him up to my apartment. We talked about some of the books and art I have and eventually he kissed me. But he kept his promise and didn’t get too fresh. Before he left, we both agreed that we’d like to see each other again and Monday night would work for both of our schedules.

Over the weekend I sent him a text asking if he could wear his suspenders Monday. He said he would and he implied he wanted me to wear stockings… the nylon variety, not the Christmas kind… in return.

So, Monday at 7:30, when he was at my door step I was quite surprised to see him in jeans, a hoodie and a ski cap. Dressed in black fishnet stockings, an adorable black & pearl-colored dress w/ black cardigan (it was a little chilly), a multi-strand, vintage pearl necklace, fuscia heels and a purple clutch, you could understand why the first thing I said when I saw him was “What the fuck? Where are the suspenders?”

“Sorry. I had a long day and I went home and changed after work.”

“Look at how cute I am and look how homeless you look. We don’t go together at all. The only reason I’m wearing this is because you had told me you’d be nicely dressed with suspenders!”

“Sorry. Do you want to change?”

And it was just downhill from there. The only positive thing about dinner was the larger-than-average piece of feta cheese on my salad. Man, I love feta cheese. Conversation was laborious and many times I felt as if he’d rather be anywhere but with me. Without being nosey (it was only our 2nd date after all), I tried to get him to tell me if something was on his mind beyond me and our date. Those attempts were fruitless.

We headed back to my place and decided to watch a movie. Prime make-out time, right? WRONG? He actually wanted to just watch the movie. And it was a movie he had seen (and a book that he had read…)…. So… I was confused. I know I can’t hold a candle to Giselle Bunchen (Giselle BRADY, now, I suppose)…. But I’m nothing to shake a stick at! Even Liz said yesterday that if I ever wanted to put a move on her while we’re watching a movie that she would TOTALLY make out with me. Thanks Liz.

So, after about an hour of trying to get some play from this joker, I gave up. We finished the movie and he left. He gave me a couple of good bye smooches and said he’d see me later. LEST HE KNEW that during the last hour of the movie I had decided that I didn’t want to see him since he was, clearly, an astronogical* asshole (and for the record, it wasn’t that he didn’t want to make out with me – though that is part of it – he was totally inconsiderate of me the entire evening and didn’t even bother to be good, thoughtful company).

Seeing the error of his ways, albeit 14 hours too late, Mr. Suspenders sent me an apology the next morning along with some lame excuse about how he was acting strange because he received news that his grandmother might have to be admitted to the hospital right before he came over. I expressed concern for his g-ma, but I told him that he should have rescheduled or told me something was up because the way he acted was unacceptable.

He said that he didn’t want to reschedule OR talk about it, which, in his mind, excused his behavior. I disagreed and told him that I do not let people treat me like that regardless the reason, therefore I did not want to see him again.

I emailed Shannan and Amy and told them both that he was a complete DUD and Shannan responded “He is not just a Dud, he is like the Super Hero of Duds. The Mayor of Dudsville. Dudly DoWrong. President of Dudler Mifflin.”

Truer words have never been spoken.

*New word – Astronogical (adj.) Definition: huge, large, enormous, bigger than astronomical.

Wednesday, April 15, 2009

A Booth, Please

This is for Laura.

This happened 3 weeks ago...... I have a lot of catching up to do.

Liz and I had dinner with my parents. We went to the Indian restaurant on 39th Street and sat in the L shaped booth. It was quite a lovely dinner with my mom and dad. We spoke of work, family, a few current events and we all ate yummy things off of each other's plates.

When it was time to go, I started scooting out. That is what one does when exiting a booth. I failed to realize that the booth STOPPED. I fell off the edge. HOWEVER... I didn't just hit the ground. No, that would have been too easy. I became wedged between the booth I had just fallen out of and the back of another booth THAT I KNOCKED OVER. And Liz just stood there laughing.

Laughing at her friend who was stuck, wedged between two booths with her left leg folded underneath her in a most unnatural and uncomfortable way. What a fucking bitch. But then again, I would have done the exact same thing.

I am thankful that no one was sitting in the other booth (the one I just knock over, not the one I had just fallen out of) because their face would have gone into their plate.

And THAT is how I fell out of a booth.

Tuesday, April 14, 2009

Sunday, Sunday SUNDAY!!!

Sunday is the day, boys and girls. The day I put my body through the hardest physical test it's ever known. Minus me being born, this is probably the most I've ever asked of my body. 13.1 miles. Last Saturday I did a 10 mile route. I walked a majority of it. Basically, any of the downhill portions are the bits that I ran.

I have set some goals for myself.

1. To finish.
2. To not embarrass myself.

For any readers living in St. Louis (who isn't Amy), please feel free to greet me at the finish line. With a wheelchair.

Monday, April 13, 2009

Arrrrg, matey

After celebrating her birthday (for the second time) and coming home too late from Buzzard (for the who-knows-how-many-th time), Liz asked our cab driver where he was from.

"Somalia." He says, as he turns to me sitting in his passenger seat.

"Oh! are you a PIRATE?!?!" I ask.

"No, I am a cab driver."

The end.

Thursday, April 9, 2009

Story in a Song

I was, once again, asked to contribute to the Wednesday Midday Medley show on 90.1FM KKFI. The show is hosted & produced by a dear friend of mine, Mark Manning. The program aired yesterday and in case you didn't catch it, I've decided to publish my story here as well. 7 individuals were asked to write a story about a song that greatly changed/influenced their life in some way. Because I demand to be difficult, I wrote about 2 songs in my story. Enjoy!


To tell the story of my song, I must first share with you the story of another song. The year was 2006. At 23, I was married to my college boyfriend, owned a house in an up and coming neighborhood, had just received a major promotion at work and was Miserable with a capital M. I had never loved my husband, I had married him because it was safe, I didn’t even want to be live in the house we had bought, but did so because I thought it was a safe investment. And while my job was stimulating, it too was safe. Oh yeah, and I was more than 100 pounds over weight.

Without ever listening to the lyrics, let alone understanding what they could mean to me, I had gotten hooked on the upbeat and lively sound of the Death Cab for Cutie single, “The Sound of Settling.” One day, while singing along to the “ba-baaa, ba-bAA’s!” of the chorus, I heard the words for the very first time. Cleverly hidden behind the happy-go-lucky tempo of the chorus and the sing-songy verses were words that touched my soul. They were the Sounds of Settling.

What had I settled on? you ask. In a nutshell; everything. I had done worse than settle in my relationship, job AND health. I had settled for a lesser version of myself. Settling in the aforementioned areas were just side effects of a much bigger problem. This song opened my eyes to the fact that I had settled for less for myself.

I was terrified. All the things in life that are worth having are SCARY. And who wants to put themselves on the line in such a vulnerable, exposed way when you can settle? Settling is so easy! Not only had I settled, but I ACTIVLEY settled for less, as the song suggests… you have a hunger twisting your stomach into knots, your brain is repeating “if you’ve got an impulse… LET IT OUT!” but those impulses never make it past your mouth…. And THAT is the sound of settling.

The Sound of Settling by Death Cab for Cutie

So, I decided to so something about it. Little things at first… because, again, those were easiest. I looked into (and got) a transfer at work. Better. But the song still resonated with me. I began a diet a program. Better yet! However, the lyrics still haunted me. I started exercising. Even better. But THAT song. The sounds of settling still stuck with me. I had tried to evaluate every area of my life to try to understand why I was still feeling this way, and I had… except for one. Love. I did not love. I did not love me.

It took less than the opening second of my song for me to realize that this was my anthem. For far too long of my then 24 year existence I felt as though I was without one. An anthem, to me, is so much more than a song that plays in one’s head while walking down the street… it is the song that embodies WHY you do all the things that you do. An affirmation, a reminder of why you are the way you are.

A huge weight was taken off of my shoulders, hearing this song made me aware with words of the type of person I am. That hadn’t happened before with words, or more specifically, with song and verse. It explained so much and I was beginning to “get it.”

The timing of hearing this song was nothing less than the Fates intervening. I had already begun to make the changes necessary for me to continue on in my journey of not settling, and there was just that last hurdle to clear: love. As cliché as it sounds, I was out to discover myself, someone I had neglected for far too long as evident from my size, spirit… and spouse.

So, who was Natasha? I knew she was funny, had great hair and had an insatiable hunger for shoes. Beyond that, I had often found myself relating to the character played by Julia Roberts in Runaway Bride. Someone who never had an opinion on much of anything regarding themselves and willing to adopt anyone else’s who offered one.

A chameleon? A shape shifter? A shapeshifting chameleon? I don’t know what I would call that type of person, but I did not want to be one any longer, I was finally ready to love myself. I needed to love myself.

But isn’t that the most terrifying thing you can do? To love yourself without condition? To shout from the highest mountain top that you matter to yourself and that you’re willing to make hard decisions and sacrifices that are for your own benefit. Terrifying AND socially unaccepted. I had believed for far too long that we are suppose to love others first and that if you can love others… then others will love you.

I was sadly mistaken. Love comes only from within, no amount of external forces can love you if you don’t. I had to embrace love and this song made me realize I can. Loving yourself is the only way to not settle. Love is the greatest and most important force in the entire universe and anything that makes you fall in love with yourself is well worth the risk.

So, if I were to take the next step in loving myself, that meant I had to divorce my husband. This made all the work I had done up until this point seem like mere child play. I had to stand up against the person who had come to define my whole existence.

I was not surprised the day I woke up and realized what I had to do. It was quite obvious (later on I would find out HOW obvious from my friends and family). I had to leave, to go on my own way, to do things that terrified me (living alone, thinking for myself, trying new things, risk failure…). I had to take the time to make the journey to fall in love with me.

And I have. It’s been a little over 2 years since I left my loveless existence behind. Because I love me, I love my job, apartment, my new svelte figure, friends, family and so much more. I love the way the winds sounds when it blows outside of my window on stormy days. I love the streetlamps on 39th and Stateline. I love the 2 little puppies, Kisten & Kane that frolic in the yard the street from me. I love it that I can cry at the drop of a hat. I love…

This song made me realize how strong of a drug love can be. The high of being in love, the analogy that love is a drug… if THAT gets my heart broken a thousand times, then so be it. I love love. I love being in love. I don’t care what it does to me.

Inches & Falling by The Formats