Advice for Men · Advice for Women

Apathy: The Emotional Equivalent of Wet Firewood

fireplaceLast night we tried desperately to get some good flame action going with  new firewood. What we realized was that the wood had not been cared for in a way that was conducive to the warm glow that we were hoping for.

Lately I’ve had a few conversations with people about their relationships. As always, my sage stance is that any relationship that is neglected will die; like  wet firewood,  an unwatered flower or like a lemon left to wither in the back of the fridge.

Human beings are wired for connection. Yet, in our twisted culture, we are socialized to fear intimacy. Partnership involves emotional risk and vulnerability. After all, if you can’t be vulnerable with your lover, the one person you ought to trust to be naked with body and soul, well, you likely don’t have a very solid connection. Apathy isn’t sexy. Apathy is your old maiden aunt’s dentures and wig-on-the-nightstand-every-night.

Fabulous women like you and I darling are certainly brave enough to be  vulnerable and to ask for the intimacy that we need. We are not needy enough to stay  if our basic needs are neglected and left to, (shall I say?) wilt. Six months ago I went out on a limb and asked for what I needed. Guess what has happened since?  Keep guessing…

If your ‘parnter’ parts leaving you with all of the times that they’re busy and can’t connect, see it for the big, fat, red flag that it is. And then go do whatever the heck it is that you  want to do.  Do not let someone’s lack of passion inspire insecurity or any other shitty feeling. At this age, we’ve all been through too much to waste time living in the land of ambivalence, apathy and pretentious crappola.

Start saying no to waiting around and yes to not giving a damn.

Now go spark up that fire people, whether it be your own innate wildness, or together with your true love. Some say absence makes the heart grow fonder, but  that’s a lazy excuse; out of sight, out of mind sweetcakes. Carry on!

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Being Single; Protecting Your Go-Juice

relaxonbeachIt seems that single people are the great catch-basin of sympathy for those friends negotiating marriages or the equivalent.

Our relationship troubles get us a pat on the head, and the standard, simple advice of, ‘If you don’t like it leave’.

A lot of coupled folks live their courage vicariously through us singletons.  Common platitudes include; You don’t need anyone, you’re independent, it’s time for you to focus on  your career (interchange that with a hobby, parenting, or some other such bullcrap), you don’t need a man/woman.

It’s easy for these folks to casually waive their ringed-fingers in the air and brush away our trite singleton emotional pain when, at the end of a hard day, they have someone to come home to, someone to snuggle up with, and someone to help negotiate the financial waters.

Yah, we get it. Relationships are not easy, and they take work. Why do you think it’s taken us so damn long to find someone we can live with? We understand why your spouse irritates the hell out of you. We really do. That’s why we didn’t marry them. We also understand why you irritate the hell out of them too.

There is an understood law of friendship that unless it is a true emergency, you don’t call after or before certain, civilized hours. Oh wait, that’s for coupled folks only. Single people stay up partying all night and writing their manuscripts. I wish. This long-weekend alone, I have been woken up every single morning with a text or call from a married pal in crisis, been needed (in person) for emergency advice out-of-town, and in my own living room.

Last night, I had a chance to put my feet up and enjoy a simple, quiet evening watching the ball game. By that time, My Go-Juice(you know, the fun energy that keeps you going) had run out, and I was in need of recharge time. I’ve been in need of recharge time for six months, but have neglected it too long.

I’m already counting down to my next holiday, and have narrowed down my escape destination to two options.

During the past few weeks I’ve come to realize just how burnt out,  in need of nurturing and good company I am.

If you are single, and find yourself constantly being asked for energy and time, it may be time to re-evaluate. Are you the one always organizing dinners, lunches or trips? Do your pals give you the brush off when you talk about your relationship struggles, but expect a kind ear when they bitch about their partners lip-smacking appreciation of anyone other than them, their messy habits, inability to communicate, lazy or alternately hyper libido?

If you answered yes to any of these questions then it’s time to recharge and re-fill your Go-Juice.

It’s ok to say no when you have nothing left to offer. God forbid us singletons get so cozy in ourselves that we’re happy handing out the candy-equivalent of peanuts for apathetic advice; If you don’t like it, leave.

It’s not that simple now, is it folks?

No, relationships are complex, fluid, wonderful things. Especially our friendships.

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Tinder – Let’s Review

My sweet little darlings, life has been, well, interesting, and challenging lately.

I have had a barrage of well-intended advice, assistance, and even passive aggressive jabs to my self-esteem by friends who find it their duty to point out my weak areas. …and you thought I didn’t notice …Thank you. That’s just what I need.

Anyway, a gal must do what a gal must do. I’ve found late night and middle-of-the-night-can’t-sleep-refuge in cheesy Nora Roberts novels and my Tinder APP.

You can go get yourself a Nora Roberts novel if you like, but I’m going to go ahead and give you my Tinder review.

The best way to do that, is to encourage you, my very dear readers, to sit back, and allow me to paint a mental picture for you using words to describe actual Tinder matches who are waiting for me, even now, as I type this.

*** I have changed the names to protect the identity of these fine men***

Matthew

First photo is of a gentleman sprawled shirtless in the back of a fishing boat. Moderate light brown/reddish chest hair and a ball cap. He has an ‘inney’ belly button. It’s just wrong that I know that.  The following photos involve landscapes and a dog eating something in the garden. My apologies Matthew. Good luck on the water. Left swipe.

Luke

Very impressive opener; a professional photo of himself with a well-groomed patch of facial hair.  Nice teeth, bald, 40 years old. What about photo number 2? Luke is speaking at a conference wearing a very delicate, white side-mic. Interesting. Let’s move on to photo number 3 shall we ladies? Ah yes, Luke in stages. Luke is shirtless with his arms around an electric blue and a neon green mannequin. Photo #4 Luke in full body spandex wearing a Santa hat. If it makes it seem less weird, he appears to be at a water sport event with other people wearing similar gear.  I’m not so sure about you Luke. But I’ll swipe right, what the heck.

Mark

Mark is 40 and has chosen to include a child (I’m assuming his) in his photo. No one wants to see pictures of kids on here. Three more photos of Mark smiling. Kinda cute. I’m sold; swipe right.

John

John has a beautiful cover photo, clearly a selfie, but well executed and no evidence of being in the powder room or car. Bravo John. Followed by 3 photos of John in combat gear with a paintball gun. John is also 109 ladies, or so it says. Sorry John, have fun playing in the woods. Left swipe.

Tony

Tony has only one photo. He’s wearing a New York Yankees cap and is at the ball park. Not a selfie, which means he either has friends, or isn’t shy to ask someone to take his photo. The only problem is that the only thing more annoying than the New York Yankees is a New York Yankees fan. But, he likes baseball, has a cute smile, and I like to banter with other baseball fans. You get a right swipe Tony, but if this works out, your closet will no longer contain Yankee Blue.

Mitchell

Initial photo; sitting on the back of a boat at sunset, beige shorts, navy top with a plastic cup in hand. Next three photos are gymish pictures of Mitchell. I think his nipples are actually bigger than mine, and that’s saying something. Next photo, Mitchell with a child. Meh, sorry Mitchell, I can’t compete with the nipples. Left swipe.

Bobby

First photo looks like he’s a mouth-breather. You know what I mean right? The kind of person who just wakes up stunned every day. Followed by more pictures of him looking bewildered.  He has taken time to write an extensive profile for Tinder (more than a sentence), and is looking for ‘phenomenally honest conversation’. Usually code for “I’m still searching for the meaning of life and find it impossible to keep my trap shut about people’s negative qualities”. Sorry Bobby, you’re going to have to continue to wonder. Keep the faith brother. Left swipe.

Brian

I bet he liked the ‘Where’s Waldo’ books when he was a kid. Why? Because his photo is of himself with five other guys.  Dude, if I had time to guess who the hell you are, I would be out there on real dates with real men, not douching-out on some voyeuristic, shallow APP.  Clean up your act Brian. Swipe left.

Carlo

Carlo, at 43 years old is clearly an athlete. His opener is a photo of what looks like a man, on a jetski. Nice silhouette, but I can’t see you Carlo.  This is the only photo. Alas, you are too much a mystery man for me tiger. Left swipe.

David

Oh David, how could we not love you? All of you. David is sticking his tongue out, and giving us the devil’s horn hand gesture. He’s no half-asser my friends. Nope, because he’s giving it to us with not one, but both hands.  Followed by a photo with a lizard and a very intense eyeball shot. Despite your baby blues, I’m gonna have to go left on this one. You’re too much of a man for me David. Bon soir.

Duke

Duke’s mugshot. Duke a thousand and twelve years ago with long hair. Duke in a cowboy hat. Duke’s foot (WTF?). Too Salvador Dali for me. Left swipe. Good luck partner.

Bradley

Distinguished, black tie photo. Salt and pepper hair. I’m thinking right swipe automatically. We did not need to see the picture of the drunken monkey or the puppy, but you’re cute and age appropriate. Right swipe for you my darling.

Nathan

Nathan has flowing golden locks, pierced eyebrows and plays the drums. Plays the drums. Plays the drums some more. He also feeds small kangaroos at the local petting zoo. Not everyone’s flavor of the month, but I’m sure there’s someone out there for him. Likely the nicest guy in the world and an acquired taste. I have enough acquired tastes however. So, it’s a left swipe for me. Rock on Nathan, rock on.

 

As I wrote this, I have to say I’m a little disappointed that no middle-eastern guys popped up with their dark facial hair and speedos, ’cause let’s face it, we all need a laugh ladies, and a reason to reflect on how damn lucky we are that we don’t have to deal with that mess.

Tinder has not been the clear dating pool that it’s made out to be, however I have been asked to meet someone at a Comfort Inn for the evening. Um, the Comfort Inn? Sweetie, you are very, very, very sad. The great thing with Tinder is you don’t have to give a polite, “No thank you”, while thinking, ‘Seriously bozo, a Comfort Inn’? You can just press block, and they disappear.

So, for Rick who just popped up as a match (whom, I will likely never communicate with or go out with because other than hook-up attempts, no-one really communicates), go ahead text me something interesting, show me your communication chops. You like Willie Nelson and coffee after all, how bad could it be?

Tinder, the shallowest of the shallow ways to meet someone. More realistically, a great way for writers to find a spring-board into character creation. It’s like having a wall of greeting cards at your finger tips to peruse, giggle at, and cause  you reflect on the general state of society.

Thank you for indulging me my dear readers. Now it’s time for some serious work….
 

 

 

 

 

 

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Tinder- I’m on Fire

firemanThis post is dedicated to my partner-in-blogging, Ralph, of BlueFishWay.

Yes, he’s older, he’s as crazy as me, and he’s absolutely fabulous darlings.

Life, is a carnival, and Ralph is going to enjoy the rides!

A while ago he posted a blog, exposing his human heart to the brutal world of love and romance, putting his ego on the line, and asking for our assistance to promote his single and oh-so-eligible-status. Go ahead, click the link above, and pass it on.

Well, his ballsy and honest self-promotion got me to thinking, and of course talking.

My wonderful gal-pal encouraged me to sign up for Tinder, an APP, that finds other Tinder users within a set proximity.

You swipe left if  you’re not interested, and right if you are. There’s not  the unending paragraphs of nauseating pooh that everyone posts; I love red wine. I’m into photography, travel and cooking. Can you keep up? Give me a break!

Some say it’s shallow, but no more shallow than that common drivel. Ick.

I declined my friend’s attempt to get me back out there on the dating scene, until this weekend after a night out on the town.  A fellow behind me at the pub was using Tinder, and I asked him how it worked. He was a cutie girls (too young for me, but had a lovely demeanor and knock-out smile), and he took the time to show me how the APP worked.

So, the next day, while having my Sunday hangover, I downloaded the APP.

Best of all, as I pulled into the office yesterday, I realized…wait for it…

I work next to a Fire Station…..

Shiver-me-Tinder, there is a God. Somebody call 911, I’m on fire!