Posts Tagged ‘men’

December 13th, 2008  Posted at   Blogging, Dating, Law School, MILS, Mommy stuff

So today was frickin’ crappy. Back-to-back meetings, school drama, Chapin calling to bitch about yet another bill he is confused about, my mother having to swing in at the last minute because I forgot Pumpkinhead had a psychiatrist appointment, the psychiatrist refusing to refill for more than a month without paperwork from Pumpkinhead’s teacher. Then it’s Pumpkinhead’s normal night to sleep with me but I thought I was having company so I fought for almost an hour with a teary-eyed five year-old to get him settled into his own bed only to find out that there was a miscommunication. :???: Oh well…. More time to work on my paper. More time alone with my thoughts. Literally, figuratively, some days I just need a rock and a day where I’m being put first and not vice versa.

CluelessClueless

funny pictures

December 12th, 2008  Posted at   Health, Law School

I’ve said it before and I will say it again. My life is an open book. If I truly cared what people thought, I wouldn’t blog the way that I do. Today I found out that there are some pretty awesome, supportive people in my section and some pretty nasty, hateful, super-competitive people. I know one of you at local firm P&S reads my blog because I CAN SEE YOU (like today at 1:07, 2:48, 3:38, 4:52). I just don’t know if it is N or J. If it’s N, wave! :grin: If it’s J, screw you and the horse you rode in on, asshole. Outing my exam accommodations and health conditions to the whole class with the headline: “Breaking News: [PT-LawMom] Gets Six Hours For Exams”? Forwarding your e-mail to the dean like she will be pleased that you are educating the class on why they shouldn’t discuss the exam after they take it (hint: that is what the honor code is for, moron). CALLING the Center for Students with Disabilities to find out what type of exam accommodations they typically approve to make sure mine aren’t unusual?!?! (Yes, my friend told me you told her you did that). GROW UP!!! :mad:

I don’t usually talk about classmates here because, like it or not, networking is an essential part of life in this “small” town. And I like pretty much all of my classmates. Point in fact, I just today helped get a classmate (from another section) a full-time in-house legal job at my company. Yay networking. But when you try to tear people down by talking about things about which you really have no clue, you just make yourself look stupid. Like, say, when you suggest after first semester that the class all send you their grades so that you can post a list of the C students so everyone will know who NOT to partner with for study groups. :roll: The whole class knew you were a prick back then. And you know what they say about people who act like big pricks… (compensating much?)

cat

December 8th, 2008  Posted at   Dating

Ms. Single Mama wrote a post last week that really struck a chord with me and I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

So if something feels very wrong about a man – get the hell away – but if something is “missing” ask yourself what it is? For me it was the fact that he picked up the phone every single time I called. He didn’t blow me off or cancel plans. And he gave me genuine compliments and spoke of the future, often (and still does). The men in my past have always been emotionally unavailable or physically unavailable – giving me the cold shoulder, playing phone tag or leading me on only to drop me without a thought or care months or years later.

So what was I missing in Mr. Man? The bad boy. “Fear,” says my therapist, “actually triggers arousal in our bodies. So when the men are mean to their women they immediately want to fix it, their bodies want to make it right.” Yep, you heard that right. Bad boys actually turn women on.

In my case, I have always dated very forward, aggressive men who have no problem telling me what they want, when and how and what exactly they like about me, my body, etc. I find that appealing. But they were mean or jealous and, like Ms. Single Mama, I tried to fix that by fixing myself or making myself into something they wanted. Anyway, it turns out that the flip side is that these “bad boys” are also players because, ultimately, every one of them has cheated. Whereas when I’ve dated nice, “safe” guys, they haven’t cheated but neither have they been assertive enough to fulfill me. There isn’t that same exciting rush as with a “bad boy.” Ms. Single Mama’s therapist told her that she needed to reframe the idea that something was missing and look at all the things she was getting. Like, say, respect. And compassion.

“You may even be bored with him,” she went on. At this point my head is shaking in agreement, stunned at her ability to read me like a book.

“I’m not all giddy, crazy, head in the clouds in love with him like I normally am with men. Instead we’re just slowly developing this deep friendship and I feel very calm.”

“That’s okay. It’s normal and very adult. You just need to re-learn some things, re-learn how you see things and feel things, that’s all. We can fix this kiddo!”

When I was with Chapin, he told me every single day how beautiful he thought I was, how much I turned him on, how hot I looked in such and such outfit (but go take it off – don’t want any men to see you in that), but I allowed the rush of “romantic” words to blind me into ignoring the clashes of culture, education and, ultimately, morals between us. Looking back it was all right there. My therapist says he constantly showed me/told me who he really was but I just didn’t want to see it because that “bad boy” kept stringing me along.

This weekend, after Chapin dropped off Pumpkinhead in the main house, he stopped at my door to pick up some mail. I bent over to pick something up and he started talking about how hot I looked and how much he wanted me, etc. :roll: Besides feeling nothing but irritation (and, geez, I was wearing sweats and hadn’t showered in two days), I also thought about my sweet Blue Eyes who — when I was crying hard one night a few months back and needed some comfort — took me riding on the back of his motorcycle for a moonlit picnic on the beach and just let me cry. There were no pretty words, no trying to fix things. He knew just what I needed and he gave it to me. Now that is more of a turn-on than any “bad boy” could ever be.