welcome to the real world...

welcome to the real world...

well, i live in wichita, kansas now. i live here because, frankly, american automotive tanked. as the big 3 fell, so did all of their suppliers. there are a lot of things that were and/or are wrong with american automotive. (note if you know me, i always capitalize "American"...as i do any country reference normally, but i'm not sure automotive in the USA deserves "American" status.) automotive in the USA was eaten alive--by its own greed. by the greed of boards of directors that thought a taurus and an explorer which cost them the same to make should be priced in two different time zones--the explorer selling for more than double the taurus. by the greed of high school graduates that entered into unions created by the silent generation that thought they were owed more than what they were worth. you cannot make more than a college graduate with student loans less than 4 years out of college. it's not realistic. you cannot sweep floors for $10+ per hour more than minimum wage. no company can afford to pay that to anyone with no value add. period. greed, expectation, want, want, want. no one can ride that gravy train and realistically not expect that rooster to come to roost eventually.

and roost it has come. automotive has tanked. the detroit to cleveland area, better known as the automotive corridor, has deteriorated. the recovery for the area is currently estimated at 20 years. yes, twenty years. we that are from the area all know that to be optimistic. detroit has been in the sh*tter for years. there are no, NO, supermarkets within the detroit city limits anymore. imagine a major city with nowhere to purchase all your groceries within a few miles of where you live, and yet, that is detroit. you're almost lucky to find gas stations with convenience stores for milk and basics within the city limits. this is detroit. this is many of the towns in the automotive corridor. my hometown used to have 3 major grocery stores. it now has one, and the town is bigger (population-wise) than it was when we had 3.

why? because we cannot get something for nothing. we cannot make $17 per hour to be a janitor. it's not realistic. we cannot pay college graduates--engineers, professionals--less than what we pay our hourly to sweep floors. why get an education? what message have we sent to our children? in the automotive corridor, the message has been clear: you can join the union. the union will make sure that you make a great living. i'm not faulting the union of my grandparents. the union back then was for "fair" pay, "fair" wages, "fair" benefits, but the automotive union of today has become representative of the same thing of the wall street fat cats: greed--something for nothing. there is a cost for that shallow view: wall street collapses for questionable trades, automotive tanks for greed uncontrolled. while the gravy train is all good, none of us can debate whether these things are out of line, well we can, but no one will care. but now, well, we can't pretend the problem doesn't exist anymore.

i fled the automotive corridor--not because i didn't want to live close to friends or where i had grown up. i wanted my boys to have the life i grew up with. but it wasn't the life i grew up with. my grandparents taught me that life was earned--you work hard and you get what you deserve based on how you worked. it wasn't that. greed changed it. it has become all about what someone owes someone else--especially the uaw. the uaw president made more than 7 figures a year while plants closed left and right. the automotive workers demanded more money while the big 3 and their suppliers laid off, downsized, every single salary person outside of "managers". then they wondered why the plants were relocated overseas!!!!

here's why: all of us have a job to do. production creates the product. salary well..., some are genuinely zero value add: payroll, for example. ah, but no one in production considers them non-value add--they do the paychecks afterall. but, engineers, project management, quality techs and engineers. all non-value add. but in reality, all of these people create the need for each other--all interdependent. engineers improve the product and the productivity of the machines on a line, quality assures the product is what the customer wants, project management ensures that constant improvements keeps the plant competitive with competition. with the unions, all those people are the first to go. production keeps its jobs the longest. but as those other roles end, so does the capability and the ability to expand, grow, and be more effective. as that ends, so does the ability for production to compete--the slow death of the plant and its abilty to produce at a competitve rate. this is the lifecycle.

as i stated earlier, i now live in kansas. i live here, because, well, automotive tanked. we, the salary, that had the opportunity, didn't always leave. i know plenty of my friends--other engineers, senior to junior, other project managers, other highly skilled educated salary employees--that are still unemployed because automotive, the automotive corridor, has not recovered. if we were not willing to relocate, then most of us are still unemployed. that is our reality. the reality is now the hourly, union, uaw jobs, are just as bad off. but they didn't give a sh*t when it was us. we have student loans and made less per hour right out of college than 10 year union members--hell than a lot of 4 year union members. why go to college for an engineering degree when you start in a plant and the people on the floor for the last 4 years make more than you do???? and you have an 8% student loan for $40 to $100K??? what is the motivation? the answer is simple: there is none. you're the first out the door, because you are "work at will". it's not like the union. there is no union rep to argue for your job. there is no possibility to come back after a 4 week vacation (fully paid in some cases) because your union rep won the argument. your job is gone. end of story.

i hear the aircraft unions making these same arguments that the automotive unions made. it scares the hell out of me. the wichita area is all aircraft--they are on the upward swing. they currently estimate 5 years to full recovery. most of the aircraft companies are shooting for 7 year contracts--makes sense for both sides in the long run. 5 years to recovery and 2 years to make sure that both sides are protected as the recovery starts to blossom. the automotive corridor is estimated to 20 year recovery or more. or more. homes in wichita haven't lost much of their value so people here can't grasp 50 to 60% reduction in their home value because of over-inflated pricing because a janitor at a ford plant wasn't worth $17 per hour. duh. a janitor is a minimum wage job--unless a supervisor over several other janitors. and even then, $17 per hour is outrageous for that supervisor. way, way overpaid, unless 20+ years and 2 dozen reports. that's just fact. the automotive corridor is suffering from the outrageous greed. don't get me wrong. there is plenty of blame to go around the corridor--who charges double for a product that costs the same as a product half its price to produce--welcome to the greed that drove our automotive stateside. welcome to what was one of the primary factors in almost destroying the global economy. this is our world now. greed unchecked will effect us all--not just those in their product, not just those in their country or their region or hemisphere...we all pay for those mistakes.

aircraft has been fairly insulated--well, until very, very untimely obama comments (the untimeliness which is a complete different blog)--but they aren't anymore. the economy has suffered and we are all feeling it. and i hear the aircraft unions, not all mind you but some, whining about how unfair it is to them. here's unfair: being college educated, student loans, and knowing that your job is first on the chopping block because the high school grads got into a union. it's unfair to assume that the salary don't feel the pain--they are typically the first to go, because union contracts require the companies to make cuts everywhere else first before cutting union employees--even if they have no work for them. it's unfair that salary benefits are typically worse than union benefits because the companies make cuts to salary benefits to pay for more extravagant union benefits based on their contracts. it's unfair, but that is how our system works. it also means as those salary jobs go away that eventually so will the hourly. just slower, just in bigger numbers when it happens. that's the nature of the beast. we are not "exclusive" of each other; no salary to do the jobs that make production improvements and improved productivity means that production cannot compete. the end result is those union jobs no longer exist.

it's a vicious circle. it's no longer mutually exclusive--we are interdependent. salary depend on hourly to be productive. hourly have to depend on salary to keep their plants competitive. there is no room for the shallow view of hourly versus salary, union versus "management" (of whom most "management" have little to no control over any union negotitations anyway). i hope that the aircraft unions are smarter than the automotive corridor was. if not, a place that has become my home, more so than that small town on the lake is now, will fall into the dark hole that the automotive corridor has.

pipe dreams?

God knows that i've been single for a long while. i've chosen to be--kids and career had to take precedence over finding the man to share my life with. perhaps, the other problem is i've collected over the years a handful of men that made me realize one more thing (each--well, maybe more each) that i didn't want in the man i'm with. perhaps they made me realize a lot of things about myself too. each experience gave me a better perspective of what i did or didn't want in a relationship, what i could or couldn't put up with, what i thought i wanted.

recently, as you know if you read my jibberish at all, i thought i had found the closest thing to what i thought i wanted--an educated, smart, smart alecky at times, fun, job, basic sh*t together, decent guy, if not a little batter and bruised from being mistreated by gold diggers and whores. ok.

but he also took a lot of that out on me. the mistreatment. knowing that, because we had this conversation several times, that i don't sleep around. if i'm dating around, then i am intimate with no one. if i am at the point where i am intimate with someone then i am on that track until the train stops. i made this clear. but somehow, this guy thought that it's ok to look for other women and treat me like crap--except when i made it clear that i was gone if he wanted to play that game. ugh. talk about too much work.

so earlier this week, i was having a conversation with someone that i admire, and i realized that was the one thing that this guy, that every guy that i have ever dated, is missing. since i am one of those women that simply follows my man's lead (when i have one), i give trust unconditionally. i need to be able to trust unconditionally. i need to have someone that i can admire and believe in. i need an honest man that i know i can be proud of the fact that i need him. i need to be able to admire who he is, what he stands for, and how he handles things.

i'm not sure that everyone needs someone that they can admire. i am an odd duck, oddity, 1 out of 8 out of 10,000, afterall (see a previous blog). but i do give my trust completely when i make a commitment to someone. i've been reluctant for a long time to make any form of commitment because i give that high level of trust. i've said to guys i've dated seriously "you lead, i'll follow". i've no desire to act like i wear the pants in a relationship--which in part gives a lot of trust. but that high level of trust really needs someone that can appreciate that trust and respect it. i believe i have to find that person that i admire--for who they are, how they are, what they are, how they treat others, and more importantly, how they treat me. i hope that's not a pipe dream.

you are not my brother, but you can be...

There are just bridges that should never be crossed. Those of us that have been in the military start to realize that quick and learn to adapt. We call it “Brotherhood” or “Brothers-in-Arms”, but the military drills it into the female population of the military that we are “brothers”. We learn to think of ourselves as one of the team, that our jobs are critical; our lives are just as expendable as our brothers. We are trained the same—sometimes harder due to a major transition needed in order to be effective as military combatants. The American public may not be “used” to the idea, and the military may still be trying to accommodate the “gentile” attitude of the American public (lmao..I know…if our public is still gentile, then why do we get so fascinated by reality tv and other moronic crap…, but like I always say—that’s another blog). On the other hand, the women that are serving are told they are equal. The men serving are told they are equal. There is no gender--just sailors, soldiers, airmen and marines. We accept that as fact, eventually, always. We all know a stray here or there that misses the mark, but when we speak of the majority, we, female military active and former, earn our place. We are not WACS or WAVES. We are NOT auxiliaries. We are the real thing just as our male counterparts.

It is highly unusual for Women’s Auxiliaries of the VFW or the American Legion to disrespect female veterans. The ladies in the auxiliaries may not have signed a contract. They may have never wanted to. They may have and floundered on the idea for any numerous reasons—not for ladies, only the ugly women do that, it’s only to find a man…yes, I know them all. My grandmother’s generation often volunteered and you were more likely to find a gorgeous “Rosie the Riveter” than an attractive military WAC or WAVE volunteer. Whatever. This is not WW1 or WW2. This is not even Nam or the 80s. The military started demanding in Desert Storm that a female sailor was not a WAVE—we were/are sailors. The Army and Air Force followed suit fairly quickly. Regardless, of what the USMC delay was, female marines are trained to be just as aggressive as the males. I wouldn’t want to be on the wrong side of an argument with a trained female marine from the 70s (I know one and she was capable of taking down guys—yes, multiple, same time. Sometimes civilian men don’t have the sense God gave a turnip. Five foot four female marine is extremely effective against 4 rednecks that might be able to bar fight, but don’t expect that tiny little woman to tear all of them a new one at the same time. God love the Marine Corps, but, again, another blog…)

On the other hand, I get sick of some, some—a small number compared to the whole, of the men’s auxiliaries of these veteran organizations that have the audacity to tell me, or any other female vet, that we don’t know “brotherhood”. We don’t know what it’s like to “make sacrifices for our brothers”. We aren’t somehow “willing to die” for our brothers, our country, our beliefs. We somehow are less, and the best part, they—these men’s auxiliary members that have NEVER served—know better than any of us—than the women that have served.

Really?!?! Let me say this: You have had the last 10 years to sign a contract and go to theater. You could have gone to boot camp, experienced what it’s like to become a team interconnected, interdependent, where you could have learned what it was like to be there for your “brother” and vice versa. You could have shipped to a squadron, a ship, a unit—reserve or active—and done your time “brother”. You could have been shipped to theater to do your time in the sandbox, the suck, the sinkhole. You could have done your service in Iraq, Kuwait, Qatar, Turkey, Saudi, Afghanistan, the Med, the Persian Gulf, the Sea of Oman or the Red Sea…you could have flown missions or cleared towns or been standing watch at checkpoints. You could have been a “brother”.

But here’s a reality check: YOU ARE NOT MY BROTHER. You are not the male marines, sailors, soldiers, or airmen that you look at for support as you disrespect me or the rest of my female peers. You are a WANNA-BE. I am all for you being like the wonderful other members of the auxiliaries who are there for the veterans, who want to support us, who want to support those coming home. And by no means am I upset by their wanting to be part of the supporting organizations within my VFW or Legion. However, I am insulted, I am ashamed for you, and I think you need a reality check.

You are not a “brother”. Your arrogance that you would even know what it was like to work days on end with no sleep, not because you were getting overtime, but because you signed a contract and your brothers, both male and female, are counting on your *ss eludes you. The idea that you have earned it by paying the dues to the auxiliary, attending a couple of meetings, and drinking beers with real brothers is insulting, to all the “brothers”, male and female. We earned it. You didn’t. Period.

If you are so sure that you want to “earn” your right, then go down to the recruiter station and sign a contract “brother”. Afghanistan is still in full play. If you’re too old now, well, excuse my sarcasm when I say you’ve had the last 10 years, 20 even depending on your MOS, rate, etc., to sign your contract, do your time, and become a “brother”. Either way, I don’t care. You didn’t or can’t. Tough twinkies. You’re not my “brother” and don’t you dare have the audacity to lecture me that I have no clue what “brotherhood” means or how you know soooooo much more about it than me or any of the other Storm or Gulf veterans. Here’s a clue jerk-off: You have no clue. You don’t know what “brotherhood” is, but the military is a volunteer force—and the recruiters still have quotas to make. Go for it, "brother"!!

i have lived my grams' dreams...

i have lived my grandmother's dreams...

my grandmother was a school teacher, a suffragette, and a "rosie the riveter". my grams wanted her daughters to live the life that she always dreamed off. my aunts didn't. one became an english teacher just like my grams. one was almost killed trying to make the olympics equestrian team. my mother was on track. she was on her way to the prestigious role of english literature professor--tenured--at a major university. my grams wanted so much for her daughters to have the opportunity be equal, to view themselves as equal, and to be independent and mentors--not just for women, but for men. my aunts fell short, and my mother--passed away when i was young.

i became my grandmother's potential to realize her dreams. i'm not sure that my aunts or my mother could have realized her dreams. the baby boomer generation received a lot of mixed messages, and their lives were overly altered by drug usage, an over emphasis on sexual revolution, and greed. but the granddaughters...well, we were potential. i was the favored granddaughter. period. i thought i was equal--not just because i was told i was. my grandfather had no grandsons. i was the second grand-daughter with little hope for any more grandchildren. i was his favorite granddaughter. i got to work on bertha--my grandfather's precious tractor. i got to ride dirt bikes. i got to climb trees. i got to play football with the boys. i got to shoot rifles and pistols. my grandfather encouraged all of this. on the flip side, my grandmother would dress me up in frilly pink dresses and white patent shoes for easter. she also would tell me i was equal to the boys. i could do anything they could--i could weld, fix cars, play football, and i could still dress like a girl, act like a girl and expected to be treated like a lady. this was my grandmother's hope. this was every suffragette's hope--that we could be equal where it wasn't our sex that determined what we could do or achieve in life. it was never their contention that we couldn't have the social niceties--just the ability to achieve equally.

grams would be proud. i was military. i love the military and i excelled. i finished a bachelor's in engineering at a top university--a university that 60 years ago was a military academy for men only. i have worked my way up a food chain that most men don't get to my level--let alone women. women have and are making those leaps and bounds in much higher numbers now, but i've done something that both men and women don't achieve on the norm. you work hard for it, you earn it and literally 100 years ago, my grandmother and the other suffragettes looked at it as a pipe dream. so i've achieved their pipe dream. their dreams lived and realized through me and other young women striving to be more.

this is my grams' dream. i've lived it. is it mine? i'm forced to look at my life and am i happy? absolutely, i'm happy with what i've achieved. do i want to achieve more and continue to live my grams' dream? i don't know. what happened to my dream? did i have one? i look back this is my dream--it is the dream that was instilled into me years ago. it started when i was born...this is the dream.

but my grandfather told me i was a princess. he instilled that thought that there was that perfect prince--not prince william (yea, cuz he's too young for me...lol...) but that i was entitled to my prince charming. that i was supposed to have the love of my life and my grams well she kept pushing that we (my cousins and i) could have it all. men could have a fufilling career and the love of their life...and so could we. nothing was ever in contridiction that they taught me. i could have both. i, well, i dreamed of both.

i have the career. i've worked hard for it and i've been successful overall. i'm trustworthy and hard-working. these are strong traits in me and cherished traits to excel in a career. but i have no prince, no prince charming. the last couple of days i'm thinking about this missing piece. my grandmother didn't consider this important. she was very concerned about the career, the freedom of one's own paycheck, the perfection of being able to afford your own life. it is a wonderful feeling--it is: "buying your own perfect shoes: $150. buying your own wonderful house: several $K. being able to afford your own independence: priceless."

but grams had my grandfather. it wasn't a needed part to the equation, because it was assumed it was there. it was--for grams and grandpa. but it was never discussed with me how i would get to have both. when i was almost 18, i met tommy. tommy was 6'5", 260 lbs., blonde hair, blue eyes, and he was great. he was smart, attractive, big teddy bear type--an adorable farm boy from back home. grandpa would've loved him had he lived long enough. when tommy proposed there was no doubt in my mind that i should marry him. we had agreed to a fairly long engagement--a little more than 2.5 years, based on college and military service (his not mine--mine came after...after this fell apart...)but a year before our wedding, tommy wanted to runaway, elope, and live a year at ft. benning til he was discharged. he was opposed to discussion and there was no changing his mind. we should be married now--not next year. i didn't want to get married then. i wanted to wait for our original date--a year away. i wanted time to live my life, and i wasn't even sure why. a poor choice of words on his part, and well suffice to say, the argument ended when i quit answering his phones calls and marking all his letters return to sender.

but why did i? i loved tommy more than i ever loved anyone. and the following 20 years produced no one who could compete--not that anyone had to. (we could talk about my ex, who i thought could at the time--but he wasn't of the caliber of person, but of course, that's another blog.) but i wanted to live my own life--just for a bit. it had been so deeply ingrained in me that i needed that extra year, and it had been so deeply ingrained into tommy that we were supposed to be married that extra year sounded ridiculous. all of our friends were marrying--we were that age. but i wanted more that to be a farmer's housewife. i wasn't sure what i wanted, but i didn't want to own a floral shop or a hair salon or be a school teacher or nurse. i wanted to be me, and maybe i was clueless what that was other than what tommy said or wanted. marriage at that moment would have taken that away the ability to find myself, and yet to him, marriage was a requirement at our age.

did he love me? absolutely. did i love him? absolutely. but i've always told myself it wasn't meant to be. period. tommy was like me--smart, really smart...fun, responsible, dedicated. a bit of an anomoly in his own right, an achiever. he also was morally my equal. there's only been one man since of tommy's caliber, but not of tommy's innocence. we were innocent back then, before anyone had broken hearts...

i live my grams' dream still, but my dream...my dream is in part the life i live now, and if i were with tommy, i wouldn't have lived that life. i would've lost out on 75% of what i thought was important in my life. i just wish i could have that love of my life who needs me and that i need, who matches me and who i match. 75% might be the life that makes you feel accomplished and i have that, but now i miss that 25% that makes life fufilled.--the 25% where you have the person that you need and that needs you. i lived and achieved my grams dreams in full...when do i get the portion that's my dream?

who would do this for cosmetic reasons?

i have suffered with visible issues with my right leg since my second pregnancy. the visible issues were discoloration, excessive heat from the discolored region on ocassion, and swelling every so often. over the years the discoloration had started to fade or fix, but the swelling was seemingly increasing. then a couple years back, i started have pain, eventually almost daily discomfort. the swelling is sometimes as bad as almost double my leg. at the urging of my aunt, i decided to go to the doctor.

i'm not sure what i expected, but the doctor confirmed that i had a vein that's diameter was just about twice what it's normal diameter was. the back pressure was likely causing the pain and the valves in my lower leg in that vein were no longer working properly. we tried other means of fixing this--non-surgical--but it wasn't helping. we requested and finally received approval from my insurance to have the vein surgically closed. i did a lot of research--there is minimal risk to the procedure. even the things that did scare me couldn't overcome the fact that sometimes the pain would wake me up in the middle of the night. surgery, chicken sh*t or not, was my only option at this point. so we scheduled my appointment.

now for those your that don't know, this type of surgery is out-patient. it's supposed to take an hour and a half-ish. they don't knock you out--they give you a pill to help relax you and local pain killers (aka. shots of novacaine i think) as they stick stuff into the veins (laser lead i think) to burn shut the vein. this particular vein goes from the groin to the lower leg and they have to close it the whole way. ok, i'm a wuss--i don't like needles. i don't like being poked by them. i'm not thrilled in any way, shape or form that someone needs to put metal anything into my body--and my goofy butt still has steel in my arm. out-patient or not, i'm definately not a surgery fan. to me, this has to be the only other option. unfortunately, this was the case this time. if i didn't want to let it get worse and possibly, according to my research, get to the point where they wouldn't be able to do anything for it (this is super serious damage--years and years) and be completely immobilized. yes, surgery outweighed the long term risk.

so today i had my surgery. now anyone that knows me knows that i'm basically an anomoly, and my surgery went from being an hour--hour and a half--to 2 and a half hours....this was painful at times. i'm not even going to explain. when the doctor got done, he told me that i had an extra branch to the vein that needed to be closed. the extra branch wasn't able to cut off from flow by just shutting the main body of the vein. oh, hell no, my branch had to be closed also. he told me that this occurs in 15% of the patients. heck, i told him, if he had told me that before hand i could've guessed that would me. i'm always that goofy anomoly--only 15%...yes, i will be part of that 15% instead of the simpler 85%. just the way i've been all my life, no reason to expect that to change now. he and the nurse laughed when i said, "yep, always the odd duck."

but let me say--yes, i might have had the 15% case--but the first 1.5 hours weren't a cake walk either. so i'm wondering what idiot does this just for cosmetic reasons? just because you don't like the way it looks? for most people, the visual issues are all they ever have to deal with. the pain that i endured today wasn't for the weak-hearted. it's a friggin' wire, basically, shoved up your vein the length of your leg--assuming you are the odd duck like me and don't have that extra branch. and my extra branch mimicked almost the same length of my leg....ugh...there was a point that my eyes started welling up because the pain was a little more than i could hold in. the smell of burning shut the vein wasn't exactly like apple cobbler either. i don't know what idiots go and do this for cosmetics, but these people seriously need to have their heads examined.

i have a very sexy compression over it now. (bridge in brooklyn people, if you buy that a compression stocking is in the slightest way sexy...) when we tried this to alleviate the pain, i could still feel heat coming from swelled and discolored area. no heat is coming through now. i'm thrilled. i actually feel great. and my leg isn't feeling any pain--although that might be remnants of the novacaine. we'll follow up and see how well it took over the next week. but i'm still thinking only an idiot would choose this if they didn't have the pain i was having. the pain of the actual surgery is too much for just appearances. i know i wouldn't recommend it if you don't have to. on the other hand, if it eliminates the pain that i've been enduring daily--it might have been considerably more, but then i would recommend it to anyone suffering from the pain and swelling.

what was i thinking?

there are those times you have sit and ask yourself--what the hell was i thinking? so now happens to be one of those times.

i have a lot of patience for someone i'm attracted to. all those stupid personality tests say so. people assume that i'm one way or another--based on other people they've come across, but the truth is that only 4% of the people on the planet have my personality and less than 2% are female. that means that for every 10,000 people that you meet, you will meet only 8 women like me total. to put that into perspective--you can meet 400 men out of that same 10,000 that are like me. according to the stupid test results, we are honest to a fault, happy, listen but are willing to stand up for what we believe, respect others, but expect that in return. you give what you get. we also will be overly accomodating to people that we date. we all know men like this--i know a dozen or so that i am friends with now. but 1 out 8 out of ten thousand. yes, i know not too many people "get" me.

i'm ok with that. i distance myself from people that are too quick to shove me in their little box. it's too much work and energy to deal with their issues. yes, their issues. the minute they make wrong assumptions about me and toot them off as fact, i simply distance myself. i'll be polite, but it's too much energy to try and convince them otherwise and it's highly unlikely that i will. why bother? life is too short if they haven't had enough life experience to recognize how unusual i am. it's also way too short to deal with people that think that unusual thing is a bad thing. God didn't make us all the same for a reason. i feel sorry for people that don't get that, but i can't explain it to them and i'm not wasting my breath trying.

the people that know me well become very defensive over me--protective. those are the friends that have over the years observed me attempt to fit in a box only to still be ridiculed for being "different". those are the ones that watched me being crushed in a horrible marriage and still trying to hold it together like a fine woman of my grandmother's caliber would have. they're the ones that worried and came to my defense when it looked like i was standing alone and i had obviously reached a point of giving up. i owe my life to one--i owe my devotion to the others. there are not many people of their caliber running around this planet. sadly enough.

there are a lot of people that like to think that they are, but are completely unaware of the varying levels of dedication. truth is almost all people think they have the dedication and are of the caliber to stand up for what's right. perhaps, but their "right" is relative to their own beliefs and mores, and the fiber that they are as a person. it simply never occurs to anyone--even the nastiest cheating slut or backstabbing guy on the planet--that other people have higher standards. we all have met people like this--that have slept with their best friend's husband, that have stolen from someone providing a roof over their head, that have used up everyone that they have ever come across. they just assume that everyone would plunge to the depths of slitting their own mother's throat or stabbing their best friend. it never occurs to them that the rest of us could even exist outside of that.

i've met plenty of people that woe over people like this after a bad relationship ends. i've never understood that--probably because of the 2% of 4% thing. i don't see it as a failure on my part for missing that part of their personality. they seem to understand advertising that they are that type of person isn't a good idea. they pray on people and pretend like they don't know. they tend to have the innocent act down. we simply can't beat ourselves up for missing the fact that some people are shitty and think it's ok because they assume we are all pretending to be something that we aren't. they assume we are all backstabbing schlubs like they are, and better us than them. i don't feel sorry for them when they get their upcommance either. what comes around, goes around.

who i do feel sorry for is those of us that are shocked and have to come back to the real world and realize that we had no control over that person or their antics. i also feel extraordinarily sorry for those people that can't see this and decide it's time to sink to the level of one of these sorry asses. but there is a certain point, where those that choose to sink to that level, need to be treated like they are one of those sorry jerks. it's hard to admit when you can see the good person underneath the facade. but the problem with that facade is that if you wear the mask long enough, you will become that. like my grams used to say, "if you keep frowning like that, your face is going to freeze that way." act like an asshole too long, and sooner or later, you'll actually be one. there's a time where a good person still has to say enough is enough and walk away.

so i was dating this guy for the last 7 months. he still has some remnants of a "good guy", but he's damaged goods. he's hell bent on being the "bad guy", and thinks that mask is protecting him. it is--from decent people. the only people willing to put up with that crap are other crappy people. too bad, but not worth the effort. probably took me too long to realize that. i guess i was thinking that he would realize that mask isn't worth the trouble that it's gotten him in the past. what was i thinking? some people, like my grams said, can't get that frown off once it's frozen that way.

newsflash: really? who pays for this stuff?!?!

shocking newsflash: new study says that happily married couples are likely the same or similar personalities when they meet and continue to be so during the duration of their lives together rather than "opposites attract". no sh*t. i could've told you that. it's really a question of observation of my friends that are the happiest versus the ones that are divorced or not so happy.

my friend mary and her husband are a little bit different. her husband is a little more old fashioned, but very equal minded. he's also a little more religious--by a hair or two, tops. he's a little more into sports, but overall indifferent. but those things have nothing to do with how they are alike. they both view things fairly similarly. when they both look at a situation, they both come up with a somewhat close view of what is going on. they both value very similar things and have very similar expectations on how they spend their free time. her husband has always treated her son the way he would treat his own. similar views on how to raise their children, similar goals in life, similar expectations and similar opinions. don't get me wrong--they are not carbon copies. the differences are there, but they also have a respect for those differences.

now do they have similar personalities? yes, i think that's the major part of it. some of us expect that we should be attracted to our opposite--i seriously believe that this is why some people truly believe they should be with someone that compliments them overall. but in reality, the most successful marriages that i've observed are very similar people--where the differences are minor and those differences expand the two people. if the differences in personality are too much, then the minor similarities will not make up the gap. this all seems like common sense to me.

of course, you can have all this--similar life goals, similar expectations on how to raise children (good if you're planning on having any), similar work ethic, similar dedication to friends and family, similar intellect, similar emotional response and still it can go wrong. my theory is that a major difference in core values and mores will be a deal breaker regardless. morals, religious beliefs (if these are important to you)--those things that are fully internalized--will ruin an otherwise ok relationship. core values are a must near match. then the other stuff must match overall. the differences have to be the minor part. opposites only attract only if you are hell bent on being something that you aren't or turning someone else into something that they aren't.

i always say the men that i've dated have nothing in common. this is true--they have nothing necessarily in common with each other--but they often have the things that i value in myself. good work ethic, dedication to their friends, fun, honest, oxymorons in their own rights. i tried the opposites once--that was the worst mistake i ever made.

now i'm not one to be giving advice on how to make a relationship work, but i definately can easily be used as the poster child for what won't work and why. these studies all sound like common sense to me after my experiences and observations over the years. still won't change the fact that some people would rather be chasing the wrong thing than happy with the right thing. i'm just amazed that some government department parted with thousands of dollars to fund a study that any truly observant human being could have told you. instead of wasting money on this stuff, give me the money. i've always wanted to go to bora bora.

current circumstances...breathe, just breathe...

I often joke about things that go wrong in my personal life—dating mainly—as anyone who has listened to or read my dating antics can attest to. It’s just far simpler to joke about it than to take the disappointment too seriously. There have been those rare occasions that I simply cannot joke about how I feel and make it go away, save face or feel better with a good laugh. Generally, when things go wrong, I make jokes with my dry sarcastic sense of humor. In my work, with my kids, anything that requires me to be organized and responsible, I rarely joke. I have a back-up plan and back-up plans to the back-up plan for any foreseeable potential or possible scenarios. The jokes only come out when I’ve exhausted all the back-up plans. However, there is no such thing with dating. There can be no back-up plan, no foreseeable actions and reactions that we can “control” and be prepared for. We can only deal with it as it comes.

Often my dating life reflects the worst the dating experience has to offer, and perhaps that’s why most of my friends find my dating life hilarious. It’s fairly rare for me not to turn some of the more nightmare-ish experiences into a slew of funny stories. Afterall, how else would I cope with some of the ridiculous things that have plagued my navigation of the world of dating:

· The guy who thought he needed an extremely educated housewife—that under no circumstances could work. Hello!?!? Have we met?

· The guy who probably made less than half what I do telling my friends and, better yet, co-workers, that a woman’s place was in the home—while in my home. Pretty bad when your co-workers’ wives are calling you concerned that he’s not good for you…personal note: do not have a guy you’ve only dated very briefly meet co-workers.

· The guy who wanted a woman that would “do” him with a strap-on…(this one still makes me shake my head in disbelief…on the bright side, I've gotten passed cringing...)

· The guy who poked and prodded me to date exclusively and two days after I acquiesced made dates with not one, but two other women.

· The guy who was so absorbed in money that he spent the whole night (first, and only date) bragging how much money he made and asked me how much I made—umm, can you say none of your f*n business?

· The guy who looked like he had stepped off the cover of GQ—I mean, he was beautiful if that’s even possible for a man—who I was pretty sure couldn’t spell his own name without double-checking his driver’s license.

· The guy who immediately, on the first date, starting talking about sex…fairly graphically…umm….what kinda women is this clown dating????

Suffice to say that my past dating experiences have lots of laughs. Just makes you wonder why I haven't completely given up, doesn't it? It’s pretty rare for anyone that asks me out to be even slightly normal—let alone have the potential for me to go out with more than a date or two—as these brief examples above illustrate.

On top of it, I’ve heard every pick up line known to man. I was a sailor, and sailors, well, there’s a sailor stereotype for a reason. Plus, I’ve had a tendency to attract player’s players since I was 16. You know, the guys that just oooooooze smooth—good-looking, got the lines down pat, the types that even other guys hate after a few years of being around them. Only after having more than 25 years of experience of dealing with those types, I can spot those used car salesmen from a mile away without a sight scope. Hell, one of my best friends went out with one that I never met, just read his myspace description of himself, looked at his pictures and told her: “player’s player.” It wasn’t a week and she discovered he was definitely a player above and beyond player. How did I know, she inquired. They ooze it. Most women love the attention, but the attention they are giving is the equivalent of a female stripper in a club. You’ve got the “cash”—you’ve got their attention. The “cash” in this case being “strange”—something new. Once you’re not something “new”, you are throw away. The best way to deal with these creeps—“tease”. Of course, the downside to that game is that it gets old—fast—for both them and you, unless you have the confidence of a wallflower with a wart on her nose. Worse yet, every so often, that “dance” turns into them becoming completely smitten. The downside to the smiting is that if you don’t recognize it for what it is—you end up married to him. At which point, he’s looking for something new…painful experience to walk away from—assuming that you have any confidence and aren’t just thankful that he “settled” for you. (Don’t get me started on those women…it’s not even worth a blog.)

I also tend to attract the clowns with nothing to lose. You know the guys that talk to every woman that they come across who’ve turned dating into a numbers game. They start with the prettiest girl they see and work their way down the pipeline until they find someone desperate enough to have a conversation with them or they decide that what’s left is below their standards—as if they should have the audacity to have standards. :D

I also attract women to the men I'm with. Two of my best friends (male) swear this is the best thing about having me as a friend. We, women, can be very vicious creatures—well some of us, anyway. Women have on more than one occasion come up to these guys when I go to the bathroom “hitting on” them. There are men like this—that flirt with a woman with a man, but honestly, it’s about twice as likely to be women doing this crap than men. Player’s players might, but the rest of men are rarely going to risk an argument over a woman they don’t even know. Since I know this happens for my friends, I can only assume it happens for some of the men I’ve dated. Oh joy.

But this isn’t actually about all that. No. It’s actually about what’s going on with the latest dating experience that I’ve been in. I’m trying to find something hysterical about this latest dating experience—something to lighten the load on my mind. I've been dating this guy for months--I know months right? But, stay on point. Obviously, he's reached a point where he's cut away a little of the protective walls that have kept me from getting too attached to anything. He's not odd, ridiculous, strange or overtly nuts. He's smart and I find him interesting and attractive. I'm definately side tracked by the possibility that I actually like this guy. So of course, the only hysterical things that I can think of are where I’m the punchline.

Picture a spontaneous plan to surprise the guy you’re dating—including a corset, an invitation for a weekend away, and complete spontaneity. So barely able to breathe in a corset, throw on something to disguise just in case you get pulled over for speeding, and hope the blood will continue to circulate before your head turns blue because, well, it’s a true corset. The problem, of course, with spur of the moment sh*t is that spontaneity does pose some amount of risk. The risk here was that he and his best friend were sitting there BS’ing when I got there. Now to be clear on the levity of the situation, having to concentrate on breathing is very similar to trying to say the alphabet backwards, while twenty people are singing it the right way through a bullhorn two inches from your ear. The mind is ready to revolt. The only part of the body that actually loves a tight old-style corset is the spine—who has no say when the brain is lacking blood flow, the lungs are pissed because they can only suck in half of their normal capacity, and you realize your belly fat is considering an escape plan of somehow wriggling south of the corset. So yes, after 2 hours, ah, yes, two hours, the only thing that sounds good is making the stupid plan come to fruition. Of course, you have to have a man that can actually appreciate the effort that this has taken. Perhaps, the spontaneous plan needed slightly more planning, but it's hard to actually imagine a man that would not leap all over this like a kid being offered his favorite ice cream. Ok, but this is, of course, me we are talking about! This kid looked at it like I was offering up fried worms. In fact, the argument that he kept trying to start seemed…well, the brain went into complete revolt at the “plan” at that point, so I can’t even tell you what it seemed like. That’s when you wish the Wizard actually does have little ruby slippers that will whisk you away from the laughter of flying monkeys. Of course, the flying monkeys are only in your head from the lack of oxygen and blood flow, and the wicked witch is the guy standing in front of you or maybe even your own imagination for coming up with this idiotic spontaneous plan in the first place. Probably suffice to say, spontaneity will not be on the top of any potential plan list again for a while.

The punchline, as if the fact I've managed to throw flying monkeys and a Wizard of Oz reference in there isn't funny as hell since it is Kansas afterall, is looking in the mirror and saying “why in the hell did I bother?” I used to joke that I always ended up with “psychos” (just like another friend of mine always ended up with “broke and no job”, but that’s another blog). I spent a lot of time out of the dating scene—and maybe partially to prevent being involved with nutjobs. But apparently, I’ve only traded up to “indifferent”. Damn, I’m not sure if I should be proud or crawl back into hiding for another 5 to 7 years.