autism awareness

so. april is autism awareness month. you've probably seen something on my facebook or twitter feed about it. if you don't know what autism is, check this: http://www.autismspeaks.org/what-autism please and learn your one new thing for the day.

so. GREAT. now you know the statistics. you know the diagnosis. you know the jargon. you're well aware of autism. as in: you know it exists. but what does it MEAN? how can you really be AWARE?

i can't speak for every mom with a kid on the spectrum. just like every kid is different, every case of autism/aspergers is different. big shock, i'm sure. there is no one size fits all diagnosis. there is no cure that will "fix" every child.

so let me tell you what it means for us. let me help make you AWARE.

aspergers means that my kid processes things differently. from senses to jokes to experiences. it means he reacts to things differently. he has a harder time knowing when to stop. he has a harder time knowing what's funny and what's across the line. he has a harder time reading the social cues that the rest of us don't even realize exist.

it means things that should be simple have a few extra twists to them. it means every day activities can be a challenge. it means simple things that seem routine are a cause for celebration.

i consider myself a little hard lined when it comes to aspergers. i'm lucky enough that most people look at my son and thing he's stubborn or spoiled. and yes, that's a good thing. i've fought to make sure my son doesn't have a label on him. there's nothing in his medical charts or school charts that says "aspergers". i don't want him to have a label for other people to hold him back and i damn sure don't want him to have a label to rest on. i'm lucky that i can get away with that. we don't have the health issues or dietary issues or wide array of other things that some families have to learn to work around. we have the easy stuff. the behaviors and the stimming and the quirks.

since i started to notice some things different about my son i've worked hard to not let that become the focus of our lives. when he was a baby, maybe 2 or 3, i started to notice domino patterns. i don't know the real names of things, just how i describe them by the way. domino patterns were series of things that had to trigger the next item on the list for life to function. he had to be in bed, get a drink of water, say good night, then have the light turned off. if it was out of order in any way he wouldn't sleep. it was a series of switches and you had to get the right combination to get the machine to work right. for that one in particular it took MANY sleepless night (for both of us) but we worked through it. we still have a routine- 8 (ish) is bed time. he says good night, brushes his teeth and goes to bed. the magic is that the world doesn't end if it's out of order or if a step is missed. other have been easier. other have been harder. some we still haven't been able to unlock.

my son has a harder time learning than other kids. he's been in speech therapy since he turned 2. we've been working on abnormal speech patterns and language delays since he even started developing language. he's 9. i still have a hard time understanding him more often than not. he's working on reading and understanding and putting things together in the right order. it means his jokes get confused. he has a hard time finishing sentences when he's excited or when he's frustrated. it means he has a harder time communicating and can get in trouble easier than most kids because he can't tell his side of the story.

my kiddo has a resistance to new or different things. i had to drag him into the water at an indoor water park even though he loves swimming simply because it was new and different. he was crying and fighting me while other parents looked on in horror but after he got in, it was nearly as impossible to get him back out. i've learned that sometimes i have to ignore other people because i won't let him miss out on things. we've been the table many times at a restaurant with the crying kid because even though they have the same cheeseburger and fries as every other place in town, this one is new. i've had more than a few waiters/waitresses look at me strange when i didn't order something for my son because he was in the middle of an adjustment. after a few minutes of gathering himself and adjusting to the new surroundings he would realize he was hungry and that maybe i hadn't taken him to the gates of hell, and maybe ordering food would be ok.

aspergers, for us, means that when my son hears a joke on tv and people laugh he's going to remember it and repeat it. over. and over. and over. it doesn't matter what joke it was or if it's a joke that's ok for a 9 year old to tell. he just knows people laughed and he likes it when people laugh.

it means as soon as we figure out one behavior pattern and work through it another one is right around the corner. 

 

it means learning what neurological triggers are and what things we can work on and what things will always be an issue.

it means we had to learn a new way to communicate and focus. we have to work on holding still and maintaining eye contact.

it means when he has a melt down he isn't being a brat or being spoiled and it may take a long time to reset or we may be done for the day.

it means that when you promise him something, he WILL remember.

it means i have a harder time grounding him because he lacks attachment to objects.

it means that when you rough house with him it will NOT end well because he doesn't know when to stop.

it means that he has such a hard time reading social cues and making friends that he'll do ANYTHING to get kids to pay attention to him.

which means if you come over to visit he will do everything possible to be the center of attention.

it means that he flutters his hands and rocks back and forth.

it means no caffeine or we have a wet bed in the morning.

it means if he gets a gift card i will hear about it every five minutes until he get to spend it.

it means if he likes clothes he will NEVER take them off and if he doesn't like clothes he will NEVER wear them. 

it means that he cries easier when he's tired or growing.

it means he loses his temper when he feels slighted.

it means he loses teeth.

it means he doesn't like to eat his vegetables.

i means he doesn't like it when his brother is a jerk.

IT MEANS HE'S A KID.

it means that the next time you see a mom in the store with a kid having a melt down don't just assume it's a spoiled brat.

it means the next time you see a kid trying really hard to do something new, encourage them and help them.

it means if it takes a little longer to get a sentence out it's ok.

it means be a little more patient and judge a little less.

it means a million more things so ASK. start a conversation. learn. be aware:

a·ware [uh-wair] 

adjective

1. having knowledge; conscious; cognizant.

2. informed; alert; knowledgeable; sophisticated.

you can't call me: late for dinner

recently i asked my friends to use three words to describe me. among the amazing responses were the following:

outgoing, open minded, funny, strong, open to new experiences, the person you want in your corner, well educated, hilarious, one in a million, brilliantly sarcastic, excellent mother, strong woman, witty, creator of fantastically caustic remarks, awesome, reliable/dependable, trustworthy, witty, funny, creative, up for anything, and, most awesomely: bacon, lettuce, tomato.

how YOU doin?

first off: totally humbled by the things people posted. i have some amazing friends and i could say the same things about all of them.

second: let me point out a few things that WEREN'T used to describe me:

tattooed, pierced, punk

what makes me bring up those three things specifically?

well, during the recent boyfriend experiment those were exactly the three things that were used to describe me. to an ex. during a conversation to allow a child stay at my house.

i'll let you guess how that ended up.

to say that it bothered me would be putting it lightly. obviously. it made it to the blog-o-sphere.

do i have tattoos? yeah. do i have piercings? ears and my nose. nothing more. am i a punk? fuck no. not in any way.

i think what bothered me most is it made me feel like a freak. like a show and tell piece. like someTHING instead of someONE.

of all the ways to describe me or introduce me to someone or talk about me- it wasn't about ME. it wasn't about WHO i am.

i've never been ashamed of my tattoos before. I LOVE THEM. i love my little piece of purple hair. it's my little way of not being boring. of not giving up and just being another bland carpool mom. it lets me still be ME in the middle of all the things i'm "supposed" to be. as to my piercings- i had my ears pierced when i was FIVE. and my nose- so what? it's nothing. it's a tiny little jewel that most people don't even notice. i dont have my face pierced up, i don't have dermal anchors or corset piercings or dermal implants or body modifications and SO WHAT if i did? if i chose to do all those things and join a traveling side show and have that as my barker name, THEN you could describe me that way. until then, whose business is it?

for the first time i was ashamed. i questioned my decisions. i felt bad about being different or outside the traditional cookie cutter. i was made to feel like it made me a bad person or a bad mom. there was more to it. there always is. but I HATE THAT. i hate that because one person decided to twist a few things about me it made me pause. i actually took time to think about changing my hair or taking out my nose ring so i would "fit in better" (what does that even mean? fit into what?) i wondered how many people judge me by what they see and how offensive i am and all the CRAP that goes with it.

then i stopped. and i realized: people that judge me that way aren't people i particularly want around anyway. so. there's that.

but i will say: i understand that not everyone appreciates ways i've chosen to express myself. i get it. tattoos aren't for everyone. quite a few people don't understand purple hair. I GET IT. i don't shove it in people's faces. if i'm meeting someone new i tame down and wear long sleeves and make sure my hair is covered. i don't want people to be uncomfortable. most of all: i don't want people to judge me. i probably worry about that more than i should. i just want to be here. i just want to meet people and have them get to know me and know the things my friends know. i don't want to be someTHING. i want to be someONE.

and to the people that matter, i am.

broken pieces

i've had writers block since this summer. i've known exactly what was causing it but haven't wanted to face up to it. i've had the words. i've known what i wanted to say a thousand times over in a thousand different ways, but i just couldn't say it. and when you know there's something you need to say but you're being stubborn about saying it, well, it makes it really hard to say anything else.

i'm ready now.

i'm broken. i have a hard time in relationships so i avoid them. i thought i knew why for a long time but this summer there was a flat, bold face, plain as day answer given to all the things i've thought over the years. it's ugly and it's dark. but i know what it is now. what i don't have is a solution for it or a way to move past it yet. maybe finally saying it will help.

ok. so maybe i'm not ready to say all of it. part of the writing process you can't see: i've typed and deleted several paragraphs trying to decide what to include and what to leave out to get to the main point of this post. readers digest version that i'll get back to at some point when i'm more ready: my mom is married to a pedophile. her husband was inappropriate towards me growing up and i found out after moving away from small town USA that he had also been grooming my youngest son. i told my mom about it at one point when it was just me, and again when i found out it was happening to my son.

i'm sure you can imagine how much more is packed into that one paragraph if it was allowed to unfold itself.

when i told my mom about my experiences she looked at me and said: "well, what do you want me to do about it? it's already happened." when i told my mom about my son she told me that i was just projecting my own experiences on him and there was no way it could have happened.

perhaps now it's making a little more sense to some of you why my mom and i don't have the best relationship.

it's been really hard for me over the last few years to see her stand beside this pedophile at the expense of a relationship with my kids and i. as long as he is anywhere around, we won't be. my older brother has taken her side. he doesn't believe there's a problem and i'm just being the stubborn kid that i've always been for no reason. after losing my dad and my younger brother, it's unspeakably hard to not have any connection to what blood family i have left.

the biggest thing over the last few years: i felt like the one who was wrong. i felt like maybe i was being a little harsh or maybe it was all just in my head. maybe THAT was the reason i was so broken: i made things up and i was unreasonable.

this summer my mom asked me to go to therapy with her. she'd been trying to work out why she and i don't have a relationship and her therapist suggested that maybe i should come in to talk over some things. a mom is a mom and there's countless studies to show that no matter how bad things get, our primal instinct is to call out for our mothers. i want my mother. i do. so i decided to go. maybe we could work it out. maybe she would see my side and understand why i was protecting my kids. maybe she would say she loved me and chose me for once.

we sat in that office. i talked about what it was like growing up. i talked about why i had separated myself from her. i talked about how it felt having her chose a pedophile over me, her daughter. the therapist heard me. she pulled together my pieces with the things my mom had talked about. the therapist, a trained professional looked at the whole picture and i was honestly, truly shocked by what she told me: i wasn't crazy. my experiences were real. my decision to protect my children was the right one. knowing what she had worked on with my mom and then hearing my pieces, it made sense and fit together and i wasn't being the unreasonable terrible daughter i believed i was. the therapist flat out said if she had known the whole story from the beginning her work with my mom would have been totally different. she believed me.

i can't tell you how powerful that moment was. someone validated me. validated the things i knew to be true. feelings and experiences i'd been wanting someone to believe. the things i though made me crazy and broken weren't right. things i've hated about myself since i was a teenager weren't my fault. i didn't ask to be treated the way i was. i didn't cause things that happened to me. it wasn't right that i had been ignored. it wasn't right that i was made to feel bad for protecting my kids. the therapist told me i was reasonable and level headed and the things i was doing were on the right track and i shouldn't waiver or back down. it was so powerful to have someone on my side. there. in the same room as my mom. my mom HAD to hear it. she HAD to know. she HAD to see it and acknowledge it and it would be different.

but just as quickly, i lost that moment. just as quickly my mom looked at the therapist and said i was crazy and heard voices in my head (she literally said exactly that). that i made things up. my own mother said that none of my experiences, none of my memories are real. she was so scared of the truth that she flat denied it and just shattered me. she looked straight at me and said nothing i remember, none of my experiences will ever be right or true. ever.

THAT.

THAT MOMENT. that is the real reason i'm broken. as powerful as the moment before it had been of someone believing me and validating me had been, THAT MOMENT was a thousand times more destructive. my mother doesn't believe me. she doesn't think i'm worth protecting for fighting for. i'm not worth loving. my mother would rather protect a monster than love a daughter. in that moment she threw me away. my own family rejected me. my family thinks i'm broken and damaged and not worth fighting for. i am not loveable. i am not good. i am not worth anything.

and if my own family, my own flesh and blood feels that way, what hope is there of ever finding a partner in life to accept me?

NOW: I KNOW. i know i have friends that love me and accept me. i hope there will eventually be someone on the life partner level that will feel the same way. but there is a whole fucking canyon between hope and belief. and before i can even begin to cross that canyon i have to have even the smallest confidence that it's even possible. and i don't have that. i don't have even a small piece of that confidence. not even a sliver. the feeling of rejection is so ingrained in me that anyone who tells me they love me must lying. it's an instant deal breaker for me. they want something. they're using me. it CAN'T be true. it's not physically possible for it to be true. i wholly believe that. i know. fucked up.

so there it is. my broken pieces: what's left of my family has rejected me. i truly don't believe i'm loveable. i don't believe i will ever find someone that wont go away or let me push them away. i don't believe there will ever be someone to fight for me and with me.

there are my pieces. now. how do i fix them? how do i teach myself that those pieces aren't right? how do i teach myself that i am loveable and that someone will want me? how do i believe what that therapist saw? how do i teach myself not to destroy chances at good things because they're foreign? how do i make pieces that are right and put them all together?

i recently tried my hand at a true, talked about it, put a name on it, give it a shot, relationship. it didn't make it very far. among several of the red flags that i filtered through, the biggest one was that he dropped the love bomb on me. after only a few weeks. and i INSTANTLY shut down. instantly. something must be wrong. it couldn't be true. now, there was more to it. there always is. but i don't know if it was real. i don't know if he really did love me or if it was because we had a small argument and he thought it would make things better. i don't know because i didn't give it a chance. like i said, there was more to it, but i couldn't even look at any of the more because i was DONE. that moment i fully shut down, completely shut off because there was no way it could be true. he must have been lying because no one can love me. people who have know me my whole life can't love me. how could some one that's only known me for a few weeks say that? and so i destroyed it. it's done.

how do i NOT do that? how do i not shut down? how do i not instantly want to call someone a liar? how do i start to unbelieve that bad and really believe the good? i have to start to believe that i'm loveable. i have to. the hard part of that is i don't know where to start. and i don't know if i ever will believe it. i don't like that. i don't like that i'm questioning it before i've even started the process. it's going to be a helluva journey. there's a lot of damage to undo.

bitches on birth control (may contain TMI)

so. everyone is talking about birth control lately and i may as well jump on board.

I HAVE A SERIOUS PROBLEM WITH WOMEN ON BIRTH CONTROL.

see. here's my problem: i have pms. severe pms some months. legally insane enough to get away with murder pms. and i get the whole mess that goes along with it- increased (and sensitive) cup size, bad skin, narcolepsy, rage, uncontrollable cleaning, unhealthy chocolate consumption, flat out, unfiltered BITCH mode. when mother nature delivers my monthly gift she brings a whole fucking gift basket, not just one neatly wrapped gift.

what does this have to do with other women on birth control? THEY FUCK UP THE SYSTEM.

see. mother nature has a certain amount of gifts she has to deliver each month. and you know the bitch doesn't keep a receipt to return the unused ones. and you know she can't go back to the deepest core of hell until all of her gifts are delivered.

mother nature (from the tampax commercials)

so these lucky bitches on birth control, especially the ones who only have the once every four months birth control, don't get their monthly gift and it fucks up the system. mother nature is left with all these extra gift baskets she has to get rid of, and those of us poor suckers who can't take birth control (believe it or not it actually make me crazier) are stuck with the overflow. i get twice the crazy and rage and headaches because some of you were smart enough to find a loop hole in the system!

damn you women who are smarter than me!

you get to laugh as mother nature skips right on past your front porch and leaves TWO of her damn baskets on my porch.

*sigh* i should at least get double the chocolate and caffeine too.

socially awkward

so. i'm old. and it's hard to teach an old dog new tricks. well, some tricks. "those" tricks i pick up pretty easily. social situations- not so much. awkward yet? it gets better.

i've never been a social butterfly. i've never been one that seeks out the center of attention. i'm at my best in a one on one or small group setting. i'm NOT a good dancer. i do NOT take good pictures (EVER). i'm not the girl that can walk into any room and have them all eating out of my hand in minutes. i'm just not. never have been, not on my list of things to be when i grow up.

i have a knack for putting my foot in my mouth. fuck it. BOTH of my feet permanently reside in my mouth. i have a nasty habit of cursing WORSE than a sailor on leave. my sense of humor is an acquired taste and even then can cross the line faster than an ethopian in a marathon race. see what i did there.

 i love my wednesday nights out. i love any night out. i love being away. conversations that don't include nerf or zelda or who pushed whom down the stairs. i love the band that plays. they're good friends of mine and incredibly talented. i do NOT love how old it makes me feel. most of the kids are college age- as in barely 21, forget they can use their REAL id now, talking about finals and class schedules college kids. i'm talking about my teenager and trying desperately to remember what it was like in college. TEN YEARS AGO. jesus mother fuck. TEN YEARS. i've been out of college ten years.

i watch these kids guzzle $5 long islands and $2 pbr's while i sip at my jack and coke or glass of wine. i listen to them talk about how trashed they got and how they can't remember full days while i make sure i'm drinking water to prevent the slightest hint of a hangover after my two drinks (maximum).

and, because i'm so damn old, i lost my train of thought. OFF MY LAWN.

there. now, i do know this isn't what i started out to write. i got distracted. it happens to old people.

what i started out to write is about how i often find myself feeling more than slightly awkward. and i have this uncanny ability to make people i interact with feel the same way. or at least it seems like that. awkward pauses, uncomfortable silences, the whole gambit.

*change perspective*

so. i started writing this quite a while back. since then i've discovered that i'm not as socially awkward as i thought. a friend invited me to dinner while he was in town with two complete strangers. dinner was excellent, there was great conversation, and i guess at the end of the night the other couple actually enjoyed my company. i have since talked to other people that enjoy being around me IN PUBLIC as strange as that may seem.

life is about learning and changing and growing and figuring out how to accept yourself as you are. i am not a social butterfly.  i am NOT good in large groups. i KICK ASS in small groups though. give me one or two people to talk to and i can hold my own like a fucking pro. that is my strength. i'm learned enough random facts over the years to bullshit just about any topic, i can read people pretty well and actually use my edit button (yes, i do have one that i can dust off on occasion) when needed. i won't be the one getting drunk to deal with the situation, i won't be the one in the corner giving everyone the evil eye either.  and you know what? the world needs people like that. it needs large group entertainers and small group entertainers. it need big bold people and maybe not quieter but bold in a different way people.

i'm still awkward in most social situations. i'm still the quiet person at the bar. i'll be the one sitting at the bar alone sipping my drink, enjoying the music, and OCCASIONALLY talking to the person sitting next to me. i don't fit in a big parties, but small dinner parties are fracking awesome. i don't like going to huge concerts, but if there's a group in a small venue count me in! i'll brave an arena full of people for a hockey game and maybe chat with the person in line getting a pretzel (but probably not) but would prefer a night at home with a glass of wine and a good friend.

and you know what? THAT'S OK.

obligatory review

well. it's a week into a new year. i suppose i should take some time to reflect and learn and all that crap.

overall: 2011: not too shabby. not great, but for sure didn't kick my ass like the two previous years.

month by month shall we?

january: whatever. can't remember.

february: quit my job. the start of the new, different, year of changes. so many goals, so many things to do.

march: i'm bored.

april: i'm bored. oh, and lost grandma to bone cancer. sudden, fast, but hell, she made it to 88.

may: I BOUGHT A HOUSE. this is what happens when you're bored.

june: worked on the house.

july: worked on the house.

august: moved into the house. started making coffee. started working as a secretary.

september: kids back to school. hired/fired contractors that fucked me over.

october: halloween. i'm sure there was something else.

november: family holidays, whatnot. oh yeah: no more work.

december: more family holidays. more work followed by no work.

and here we are back to january again. there was so much more in there. looking back over blogs, looking back at kids, friends, pictures, there was some really good things and some really terrible things. overall though it was a pretty ok year.

now. the important things: what did 2011 teach me?

death sucks. if you haven't been expecting it, if you have, if it pounces on you, whatever. it wasn't any easier to watch my grandmother get sick and fade than it was to wake up one day and hear my dad was gone. you never want it to happen. you never want to let someone go. 25, 27, 55, 88 years...it's never enough.

family sucks: i still haven't been able to write about it but there was a huge shift in what remains of my family this year: in a way i lost all the family that i have left. i faced a really damn hard truth that my mother will never believe me, will never stand up for me, and would rather lose my kids and i than face some unpleasantness in her home. i also learned that my brother will unequivocally side with her. that sucks. it’s the only blood i have left and i don’t really have them. kind of a sucker punch, but at the same time i know i’m not alone, i do have good people and the world does go on.

contractors suck: i’ll expand this one to include: way too many people suck. i found out the hard way this year that there are way too many people out there willing to take the easy way, screw people over, do every dirty damn thing they can with no remorse. i had “friends” that disappeared when i stopped paying for every thing they could think of. i had a company i had been loyal to for 10 years fuck me without blinking twice. i had contractors that took advantage of my trust and left me broke and without a bathroom. i watched friends get screwed over. i watched my kids get screwed over. i watched employers get screwed over. it really sucks when you work so damn hard to do the right and best thing you can at all times only to realize you’re one of the very few. i guess i’ve was protected in my little cubicle world before. being out and around people now you see how many of them really do honestly suck. i LOVE that the people i’ve allowed in my life aren’t like this. i would like to believe the old saying: like attracts like. we all have a few exceptions, shit happens, but i’ve found some really awesome people that bust their ass and would do anything they could to help each other. i’m finding out how rare and precious that is and i like that i’ve learned to appreciate it more now.

fear is my biggest obstacle: i want to do so many things. but i’m scared. and i haven’t kicked my own ass enough to get over it. i’m honestly scared of dating- what changes will i have to make? what if he’s terrible? what if my kids don’t like him? what if they DO like him? what if i get rejected? what if i DON’T get rejected? i’m a pansy! it’s easier to stay single and bitch than step into the unknown. i’m afraid of failure: i want to start a business. i want to do all these great things in my head and work and make it amazing. but what if people don’t get what i’m trying to do? what if i don’t get customers? what if i fail and have to close? what if i’m a success and it’s too much to handle? what if i get shitty employees that try to fuck me over? what if i get good people and i can’t support them? and writing- remember all the writing i was going to do this year? i’m terrified of it. all the blogs that are still in my head- there’s a LOT of heavy subjects up there. what if people don’t like the serious side instead of the wry humor? what if i say something i shouldnt? what if it crosses a line and i can’t go back? i’ve been stuck since this summer. there’s one GIANT road block and i can’t decide if i need to bust it down and lay all the shit bare or skirt around it or avoid it all together. what if i say things about myself that causes me to lose more people? lose my support system because it’s just too much?

so. 2012: the year i kick fear’s ass.

also: a friend told me this year: “i believe the way you start the new year sets the whole tone for the year.”

i spent quite a bit of time thinking about that on new years eve. i wanted to do something different. i want this year to be different. i DID go out (just for a few minutes, and no adult parties...baby steps). i DID do something different (no disney channel). it was movies with my kids and sparkling cider at midnight followed by a movie with a very good friend and waking up in the morning to a hot cup of coffee and happiness. not a bad start at all. different, GOOD, and exactly what i want to make 2012 be. different and GOOD.

i’m applying for jobs. i’m working on my house. i working on writing more. i’m working on kicking fear’s ass. i’m watching my kids grow up. i’m learning to ask for help. i’m learning to accept help when it’s offered. i’m learning to discuss things as they happen instead of reaching an point of no return. i own a house and damn it, i want to own my life too. so. it’s a few days late, but welcome to 2012.

i had a date(ish)

gather around darlings, i have a delightful holiday tale that is sure to warm your hearts:

(or at least make you laugh/pee a little so SOME part of you is warmish)

i had a “date” last night.

before you get all excited for me it must be stated: this was not a “you’re hot and i want to take you out” date, this was a very old friend in town for the holidays, knows i’m single and rarely get to go out on this type of event, in the spirit of the holidays threw me a bone “date”.

so. you know. go me.

now, before i get too far into it you need to know that in spite of everything i actually had a pretty good time. it was good to be out, it was good to feel pretty, and it was good to not have to buy my own drinks/dinner/lap dances for once (we’ll get back to that last one in a minute).

so the friend in question is/was actually staying at my house for a few days while in town. he got to town thursday evening, friday we hung out a bit before he had to go do some things, then we were both back at my house around 3 (with both spawns) hanging out. 3 in the afternoon. it was actually a little before 3- yes, time is important. you see, between the time he got back to my house and the time i went to take the small spawn to a friends for a sleep over at 5 he was already SIX drinks ahead of me: two shooter bottles of gentlemans jack, firefly on the rocks, three screwdrivers. nothing lets your date know you’re excited about taking her out like getting completely smashed before it even starts.

i get back from dropping the small spawn off and start to get ready. a date is a date and damn it, i wanted to look nice. pretty skirt, nice strapless top, big girl shoes, big hair, big make up, i pulled out ALL the stops. while i’m doing this he has another drink and a bit of green because that of course lets a lady know you can’t wait to be alone with her- a completely altered reality. awesome. (also lets her know that she will be driving for the evening and not able to partake in any drinks herself. even better).

while i’m getting ready i was complimented several times along the lines of “you look hot. it’s nice to have my escort look so hot. you’re my escort for the evening, right? i’m paying for everything and getting sex after, so you’re my escort, right?”

i just love compliments. they make me glow.

yes, i still went through with the date. i’m that desperate. again: go me.

so we decide on a spot for dinner and start the evening out. dinner was actually delightful at a very nice restaurant but we forgot to factor in one thing: a gentleman’s club was on the agenda for the evening and the restaurant we had picked tended to be a little (as in the nile is just a little river) heavy handed on the garlic and onion. PERFECT for an evening of up close and personal with beautiful women (and the supposed sexy time at the end of the evening).

conversation was great through dinner. we talked about how long we had know each other, how we’ve both grown over the years, real, good, meaningful conversation. a little shocking all considered.

after dinner (one more drink) it was still early and the friends he planned on meeting at the club weren’t ready yet so we decided to drive around a bit (after stopping for a coors tall boy). this turned into about an hour and a half driving around in BFE, in pea soup fog, with NO IDEA where we were at. not the worst, but for sure not exactly a nice night out type thing. I WILL SAY: we did use this time to continue talking about things which was really nice. one caveat: you just never know how much is real conversation and how much is “altered state of mind” conversation. not really sure how much of it he remembers or meant. so. yeah.

we finally decide that we’ve had enough driving around and we’ll just go to his buddy’s house and wait for him to get ready to go to the club. translation: we’ll go park out back of his buddies house and attempt teenage car sex until his buddy is ready to go.

oh yeah. i just said that.

two adults. one car. a whole lot of (one sided) alcohol. a fuck ton of awkward.

let me just say: no matter how old you are, no matter how big your car is, no matter what you may think: CAR SEX IS NEVER A GOOD IDEA. add in a little alcohol and GOSH DARN IT, wouldn’t you now, things just didn’t quite go as planned.

we finally head out to the gentleman’s club and the rest of the evening was pretty good. see, i’m one of those girls who LIKES other girls. i think women are beautiful and i truly admire the dancers at the gentleman’s club. they are (with some exceptions) athletic, brave, sensual women who are damn smart and good at what they do. i’ve had many a conversation about this with men, women, and some dancers. they truly are damn good hustlers, sales women, business women and the best ones do this with little to no (visible) effort so that the drooling neanderthals around the stage think they’re being awesome getting this girls attention while she’s making bank and taking money that they’re willingly throwing in her direction. plus: boobies! yes, i said it.

i was able to enjoy a very nice lap dance from a beautiful woman which all the men were jealous of (yes, mine was longer than yours deal with it). i happened to run into a friend i hadn’t seen in way too long and was able to catch up on a little chatting amidst all the distractions. i got to watch boys be stupid boys which is always fun. finally i got to watch my date ingest quite a few more drinks which assured that i was safe from the sexy time at the end of the evening that he had been planning on.

so the “date” ended well enough but i want to point out a few things that really were a train wreck that i managed to ignore.

men: don’t EVER refer to your date as your escort for the evening unless you looked up an ad in the yellow pages, ordered her and had to put a credit card on reserve for the evening to happen. it is damn demeaning, angering, and honestly purely insulting. i understand that all you want out of the evening is the sexy time at the end and you’ll do whatever it takes to make sure that happens. one way to make sure it DOESN’T happen is to let me know up front in plain english that’s all you think i am/am good for.

don’t EVER let a woman know you can’t afford to take her out but you’re doing it anyway. nothing ruins the evening as quick as “i know i’ll hate myself tomorrow for how much i spend on you tonight.” AWE.SOME. and YES, this was actually said to me.

also, along the same line: don’t ever let your date know you had to borrow money to take her out. FROM. YOUR. MOM. this one didn’t happen to me but it DID happen to a darling friend of mine a few weeks ago. a guy actually had the half balls to say he wanted to take her out for a drink but had to ask him mom for a loan first. if you can’t afford it, find a different option. buy a sixer and rent a movie. it’s a LOT cheaper, less noisy, and more one on one time. plus you don’t have the whole awkward: “he borrowed money from his mommy” vibe the whole evening.

i understand having a few drinks or a little herbal relaxation to mellow you out before a date. WITHIN REASON. getting smashed before she even starts getting ready is NOT a good thing. really. nothing tells a girl you dont want to go out with her more than having to be blasted to go through with it.

NEVER. EVER. suggest car sex. EVER.

don’t complain that the girls lap dance was longer than yours. enjoy the fact that you have a woman who is excited to be at the club with you and that you even got to watch her getting a lap dance. i mean how fucking sexy is that? getting to watch a girl get a LONG lap dance and enjoy it? and you complained?

don’t make her wake up in the morning to you flogging the dolphin. wrestling the cyclops. choking the chicken. FUCKING MASTURBATING IN HER BED RIGHT NEXT TO HER.

hmm. sorry. probably should have given you a little warning about that last one.

*sigh* and people wonder why i’m single.