A Case of the Could You Fucking Not’s

Lately I find myself with little patience. For everything. My favorite season is ending, my job provides little to no enjoyment, I’m in a constant search for something to do with the rest of my life professionally (or at least a constant search for a job that provides the possibility of moderate amounts of enjoyment and more than, oh ya know, three paid days off), I’m trying like hell to make a long distance relationship feel just as normal as it did pre-distance and all of this has been leaving me maxed out on my daily allotment for patience. It’s a rare day I don’t find myself constantly annoyed by any and everything dumb. I suppose normally my tolerance for stupid people doing stupid things isn’t the highest, but the stress of these last few weeks has just demolished said tolerance for all things asinine. For example…

Coworkers approaching me with problems first thing in the morning:


Coworker who forces me to be at the office 20 minutes later than necessary so I can hear his thoughts on the decline of “modern neighborhoods”:


Coworker who asks me to work late full well knowing I’m salary and won’t get paid for it:


The person who cuts me off in traffic, then proceeds to drive under the speed limit:


The person who cuts me off in line at the pharmacy, then proceeds to ask one trillion questions:


Manufacturers of cardboard tampon applicators, one-ply toilet paper, automatic faucets that don’t work and all other sub-standard bathroom products:


All things pumpkin spice and soon to be cold weather related:


People who are constantly on Facebook/Twitter/Instagram, but yet can’t seem to use their phones to text you back:


All ex-girlfriends:


And mostly, all the people who insist on telling me their own long distance failures when they hear my boyfriend was relocated 600 miles away. Really? REALLY? All of you:



Luckily y’all I have found a way to combat this raging case of Could You Fucking Not’s, and boy is it delicious…



An Open Letter To Everyone. Re: My Biological Clock

Dear Everyone ever to make jokes about women of a certain age and their biological clocks,

Last night I had a dream. I was back in Denver on a shuttle coming back from DIA with my ex. And our daughter. We weren’t back together, nothing about our relationship had changed…except we had this beautiful daughter. We were coming back from a trip to KC to have all my family celebrate her first birthday. Not much happened in the dream aside from the three of us riding in the shuttle but everything about it was incredibly vivid, especially the feeling that this little girl was my whole world. I woke up at 4a.m. and the dream was so realistic it took me a minute to remember that I wasn’t still living in Denver. And I don’t have a child. And lately I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking that’s something I’d really like to have.

As you can imagine, this was a hard way to start the day. I felt out of sorts through most of the morning and when I finally told my (mother of one and soon-to-be two) coworker who is the same age as me why I was so off today she laughed and said, “Oh your clock’s just tickin’ away, isn’t it?! Poor girl!” One of my male coworkers must have overheard us talking because he threw in his two scents as well, “You know, this is why a lot of guys date younger women. You gals in your 30’s are totally on the baby track. Like, what’s the rush?”

Okay, y’all. Two fuck you’s needing to be given there.

I know some people will read the previous paragraph and not find anything wrong with what my coworkers had to say and call me overly sensitive and ask if I’m PMS-ing. To that I say, ‘So what. I’m allowed to be sensitive.’ and, ‘No. I am perfectly level headed (and level horomoned).’ Here’s what upsets me about people being all non-nonchalant with their ‘ticking clock’ metaphors and their ‘what’s the rush’ pondering- for some of us, e.g. women, there is a ticking clock. Not all of us humans are afforded the benefit of being filled with sperm that can fertilize an egg until nearly the day you die (or even after death if you buy into Stephanie Meyer’s preposterous take on sparkling vampires). For women, our time to naturally conceive a child is finite. (And yes, I’ll probably be emphasizing naturally a lot because as well as realizing I would, in fact, like to have a child, I’d also like to have one naturally. No judgement to those that do, but I don’t want to be a woman in her 60’s going through IVF. No thanks!) Yes, there are some women out there popping out kids into their late 40’s/early 50’s (one woman even conceiving naturally at 59- with the help of estrogen. Oh, and let’s not forget about the woman who gave birth at 70 after IVF. Like I said earlier, nothing about this topic sounds great to me.) but, for most women, fertility begins to decline more rapidly after the age of 35 (or so Psychology of Human Sexuality 201 and about four hours of internet research and my OBGYN tell me). So excuse me, coworkers and other glib asshats of the world, but how can a single woman in her 30’s who might be interested in naturally conceiving a child NOT be on a one track mind at times?

Now look, I know there are plenty of guys out there in my position; single and getting to the age where they feel like they may need to start considering their options on having kids. And, I know there are a lot of married people in relationships who have to consider alternative methods for having a family. And people in same sex relationships who have just as much, if not more, as I do to think about when it comes to this subject. But, here’s the thing- I’m not speaking for them. This is my open letter, so I will gripe from my point of view only. The point of view of a single women in her 30’s who pretty much always imagined kids would eventually be a part of her life, but weren’t really something she needed to put a lot of thought into because haha, oh man, I’m totally still in my 20’s and I will meet someone I want to start a family with eventually and it’ll be no big deal!

But, suddenly I’m not in my 20’s anymore. I’m  getting closer and closer to the rapidly declining fertility age and have little to no patience for people who make jokes out of my biological clock. Those jokes aren’t quite as funny to a person who has to sit down and have serious discussions with herself that includes topics like, ‘What if I don’t meet the person I want to start a family with until I’m in my 50s? Or later? Or never?’ and ‘If I don’t meet anyone by a certain age, should I try to have a child on my own?’ And other fun gems like, ‘What if my doctor is right and I have a difficult time conceiving naturally? Is that a disappointment I want to put myself through? Would I want to try hormones or IVF?‘ (Yes, as if I didn’t already have enough fun things to consider when broaching the topic of possibly having children.) This isn’t like debating whether or not to buy the super cute but maybe overpriced weekender bag I’ve been coveting online or whether I should just go ahead and let myself eat one more cookie. These things aren’t decisions that can be laughed off later like oh silly me buying bags online again! No. These are serious, potentially life altering decisions I have to sit down and start making in the next few years. And maybe a few years doesn’t seem so long in the grand scheme of things, but for someone who just felt like they were in their 20’s and now, oh shit, it’s like eight years later already, a few years to figure all of these things out in is not a lot of time at all. It is like a clock ticking away, it’s quiet, but it’s there lingering in the background. It’s there and it’s a little stressful and scary and overwhelming. So do a girl a favor and don’t belittle that clock with your flippant remarks.

Ohh The Weather Outside is Weather.

That little asshole Punxsutawney Phil just predicted six more weeks of winter. My reaction to that?


I think it’s fair to say I cannot stand winter. Nothing about it pleases me. Not the cold, not the fresh, white snow (that soon turns dirty and brown and lingers for weeks on end), not the shorter days, not ANY OF IT. All I ever want to do is curl up in my blankets and hibernate. Good ol’ KC is in the midst of a (mini) snowpocalypse and I am on the verge of tears thinking about the prospect of six more weeks of this cold bullshit, but fear that the tears would freeze to my face keeps them at bay.

Y’all might think I’m exaggerating my disdain for winter just a bit, but I assure you I am not. To further prove how much I loathe this season, and the prospect of an extension of it, I’ve put together a little list of things I’d rather do than suffer through six more weeks of these freezing temperatures…

Share a tuna fish sandwich with a jort wearing, open-mouthed chewing chap.

Go one month without Yellowtail Moscato.

Have a nun magically appear and give me the side eye every time there is a sex scene in a movie I’m watching.

Watch every single episode of Keeping Up With the Kardashians.

Have all my socks suddenly be made of wool.

Never be allowed to eat peanut butter froyo again. Ever.

Spend 24 hours in a cave that reeks of curry.

Have all radio stations be set to play nothing but Norah Jones for one full year.

Have the last ten pages missing of the next ten books I read.

Never, ever, EVER get to see the final season of Sons of Anarchy. Okay, no, never mind. That clearly is pushing it too far. Unless, maybe that would earn me a life free of winters for the rest of my days… then sorry, Jax Teller, we are through!

Sigh. Six more dreadful, chilly weeks. How can a person be expected to make it through? Finding a way to make the cold and snow more sufferable isn’t easy, but there is a way… Put Charlie Hunnam in it with you and suddenly the snow starts looking a whoooole lot better.


Failing As A Feminist?

(Note: Every person has different ideas on what a feminist is and what feminism is all about. This? My two cents.)

The scene: a conversation between a group of women talking about what else? Men. Just some good ol’ fashioned girl talk about our wants, our likes, etc., and here was my addition to the conversation:

“I hate to say I want a guy to take care of me, because it doesn’t fit exactly what I mean, but I’m not sure how else to phrase it, so yeah, I like it when a guy can take care of me. Not financially or anything, but I’ve just taken care of myself for so long it’d be kind of nice to have a guy to, like, fix my weird steering wheel- or at least find me a mechanic who can- because, even though I can do those types of things for myself, I just don’t want to have to! And, while we’re at it, I like a guy who is comfortable making decisions like where we’re going to dinner and planning out our vacations. I’ve almost always ended up being the planner, the organizer, the decision maker with other groups of people that I just really like when a guy is assertive enough to take over that role for me in our relationship…” But before I can finish, I’m cut off by this:

“How can you say all that? I figured you for a smart woman, but God, way to take feminism back about 50 years. Man making all the decisions and taking care of all the “manly” things while the lady just swoons and says ‘my hero’. You don’t need a man for anything. That’s just failing feminists everywhere.

Um. Exsqueeze me? Clearly this angered me, or I would not be writing about it. But, I took a little time, considered the (self appointed) MVP of feminism’s words, put my thoughts together, and here’s what I came up with…

When did having personal preferences in a type of man I’m attracted to make me less of a feminist? By definition, a feminist is an advocate for a woman having equal rights as a man, which I am ALL FOR. I’m also all for a woman having choices. For example, the choice to be able to take care of everything on her own or being able to choose to let another person (man or woman) do things for her. At no point did I say every man should make every decision for every woman, I just happen to be attracted to men that help me be less controlling by taking over said control in certain parts of our relationship. What angered me even more about the rude interruption is that while saying you don’t need a man for anything is technically true, it doesn’t make me any less of a feminist for wanting a man in my life. You can rely on a man for things, you can desire to find a man who is assertive in your relationship, but that doesn’t have to take away from relying on yourself and your own assertiveness. Having personal preferences, knowing what makes you happy and what you want, as I do, is a sign of self-awareness and intelligence, and isn’t that a large part of a feminist woman? Yes, thinking you need a man does date you back to the days of 1950’s housewives because women are strong and you can do any and everything on your own, if you so choose. But don’t let fellow MVP’s of feminism lead you to believe that wanting a man makes you lose your identity, because that simply is not true.

Stand up for womankind, stand up for equality, stand up for yourself; what you believe in, what you deserve, what you want, and to me THAT is not failing feminists everywhere.

*steps off soapbox*

The Worst Advice You Never Asked For

Dear readers, you know what I’m really beginning to hate? Advice. Specifically, dating advice. Personally, I’ve gotten a lot of it. I admit, sometimes I seek it out, but in general it’s unsolicited, which probably makes it even worse. It just seems that everyone has some knowledge they need to drop on me when it comes to finding (and keeping) that special someone. The problem is one person’s advice almost always completely contradicts the other persons! Come on, y’all! Dating is already hard enough without hearing all of this:

Put yourself out there and always be on the lookout, you won’t find someone unless you try. But…Stop trying. You always meet someone when you aren’t looking for it.

Know what you want, make a list of the qualities you want in a man. But…Don’t limit yourself to a “type”, be open to all different qualities in a man.

Relax! If it doesn’t work out then just know it wasn’t meant to be. But…If you feel like it’s not working out, you aren’t putting in enough effort. Do more!

Maintain your own identity. Follow your own passions while dating someone. But…Spend more time learning and getting involved in his interests.

Spend time alone, don’t jump from one relationship to the next. But…Don’t stay single for too long lest you get too set in your own ways.

Never assume exclusivity, don’t be afraid to discuss where you’re at in a relationship and tell him what you want. But…Never put too much pressure on where you’re at in a relationship, men hate pressure!

Focus on the person, not the zsa zsa zsu’s. Zsa zsa zsu’s can grow after time. But…Chemistry is key, it’s either there or it’s not.

Don’t act like a needy girl. But…Don’t be afraid to be vulnerable and let him know you need him.

Men love elusive women and like to be the pursuers, let him come to you. But…Don’t be afraid to make moves and pursue a man to show your interest.

Learn from past mistakes. If your last boyfriend strayed, be sure to keep your guard up and look for signs in your next boyfriend. But…Don’t let your past haunt you! Just because one bad boyfriend strays doesn’t mean they all will.

Never put out on the first date! Wait until you’re ready. But…It’s okay if passion gets the best of you! If it feels right and you want it, go for it!

Don’t talk about the future too soon. But…Don’t wait too long to talk about the future so you can know if your hopes and goals are compatible.

Watch what you wear on a first date, nothing too revealing! But…Play up your assets. Got great boobs? Work that V-neck!

Don’t sell yourself short or settle, you are unique and wonderful and deserve the best. But…Don’t feel entitled, you may think your quirks are endearing, but those quirks may not make you as much of a catch as you think you are.

You deserve all the love in the world, it’s okay to want more love from a person. But…Don’t expect a certain amount of love from a person, just enjoy what love you do get from the person you’re with.

Don’t let your age or the length of time you’ve been single make you give up on finding the relationship you truly want. But…Don’t think you have all the time in the world to find the perfect match.

Never accept an invitation for a date 1-2 days away. Only pre-planned outings. But…Guys love spontaneity! Happy hour after to work tonight? You bet!

Always look your best no matter the situation, even for a physical activity date. But…Guys love a girl who is comfortable in no makeup and yoga pants, don’t be afraid to get gritty!

And my all time favorite advice:

All men are different, so never listen to dating advice.

It all leaves me feeling a lot like this…tumblr_mk8d58eAcL1qcm0m3o1_500gif_tb_lafayette_fuckdisshit71191-what-the-actual-fuck-gif-game-cjx5tumblr_lzve1dTqJf1qa6lp8Disgust-1

The (Un)Wonderful World of Dating: Take Two

You can guess that if there are some pretty decent size gaps in between posts it is either because I’m putting in a lot of time at the gym or I’m focusing on making my romantic life seem a little less like this…


Well, as a lot of my pants have been on the tight side lately, I can guarantee you that my lack of posts have not been from excessive gym visits. So yes, dear readers, I have once again thrown myself back into the (un)wonderful world of dating.

I had hopes that a change in location would bring a change in dating prospects. No. Incorrect. Same shit, different city. If anything, it’s almost a little worse here. There seems to be this strange phenomenon in KC. I’ve discussed it with quite a few of the single girlfriends I’ve been making here, so I know it’s not just me, but it goes a little something like this… You meet a guy. You two don’t find each other totally repulsive, so you exchange numbers to meet again and find out if you can continue to find each other non-repulsive. A few days later he texts you, no, doesn’t call, texts. And he keeps texting. Just about his day, about your day, about what he should grab for lunch, about all the rain, about his neighbor’s dog, about ANYTHING. Anything other than setting up an actual date. What the fuuuuuck? What is this weirdness? I mean, us KC girls aren’t crazy, this is weird, right? First, what ever happened to picking up the phone and actually calling to ask someone out for a date. Is that too old fashioned to hope for? And second, listen guys, I really don’t want a play by play of your day. Hearing about what you had on your pizza is the kind of shit you have to be interested in after you go on said dates and fall into relationship mode. Meeting a few of these guys really hasn’t given me the greatest confidence in the KC dating scene. But, unless I want to continue living a life of spinsterdom with my loving Mr. Squiggles, I must wade my way through these  murky dating waters.

Now, as much as there are the typical guys looking for less than romantic type connections, and guys fall under the “not quite divorced” category, and of course those guys who just seem to want to text endlessly about any and every thing, there probably are some decent ones out there…I just happen to have not stumbled across those decent ones yet. And okay, even that’s not 100% true. There are a few that, even though they aren’t perfect for me, have made this whole dating thing not so terrible. After being through so many heartbreaks and doing first dates with a few too many toads, I’ve probably just gotten a little too picky.  Not every guy I’ve met has been like this…tumblr_mc4409tZtB1qmnvbmo1_500

But then again, it’s a little hard not to be picky when you’ve been waiting to see this on a first date for 30 years… tumblr_m8zu5oqRcP1qhc9d1o1_500

A little unrealistic? Probably. But come on men of the world, just be a little more Jake Ryan-y already!

Tomorrow is yet another day in dating paradise. So far it seems okay. Nothing like Jake Ryan waiting for me outside a church, but spending a few hours at the museum, high on my list of favorite places in KC, with a guy who seems to not be looking for unromantic type connections, isn’t currently married, and actually used my number to set said museum date instead of abusing it with hundreds of banal texts, so who knows, maybe this could be the one that ends up being even better than Jake Ryan.

Or maybe not. I guess a gal can never know unless you keep putting yourself through that (un)wonderful world of dating.