The heart {pizza} of matters.
February 15, 2013

tumblr_m9ym057Sa51qfd5v6o1_500I can still remember my first Valentine.

I was in first grade, and a boy in my class, named Dustin, gave me a small, white teddy bear with a red bow tied around his neck. At 6 years old, this was a lavish gift among the ritual of passing out store-bought cards with flat suckers.

I was embarrassed. I didn’t know what it meant. I certainly didn’t want Dustin to be my boyfriend (whatever that means in first grade).

I can remember Valentine’s Days at school in the years after, carefully choosing cards for each classmate, making sure none of them were too flirty. Didn’t want to risk someone thinking the pre-made cards were from my heart.

As I got older, Valentine’s Day had some weight to it.

In college, I told my fellow students to take Valentine’s Day like a man, in the inches of my weekly relationship column:

“It is the lonesome man who looks above this dreaded day and treats it just like any other. He doesn’t wear black, cry, eat chocolate or hate himself.”

I tried to take my own advice, and joined some girlfriends at a martini bar. I remember wearing a silky shirt that was printed with green and blue hearts.

That night, I watched as the bartender poured a long row of Patron shots. Little did I know that the very bartender would be in my life years later, and we too, would share a few Valentine’s Days.

But before that could happen, I was on the tail of a bad relationship. It was a constant back and forth that wasn’t healthy. When Valentine’s Day rolled around, I got stood up, and finally I was free.

And then, I fell in love with that bartender. While there were good times, the bad weighed heavier. For Valentine’s Day, all I wanted was to see him. I fantasized about it—I wanted to order one of those “Heart Baker” pizzas from Papa Murphy’s, sip on beer, and sit with my guy.

But he didn’t want that.

Instead of pizza and beer, I sat alone that night, eating the red velvet cupcakes I baked for him.

It wasn’t one of my prouder moments.

Truthfully, I’ve never tried to put too much pressure on February 14. I know it’s a bit of a silly holiday; I want a relationship where we constantly show our love for each other, not just one day.

But terrible Heart’s Days aside, this year I really wanted to give myself a break. My stock on bad dates is currently up, and I needed a little cheering up. So I looked back on the 2-14s of my past.

I never did get that pizza.

So, I drove across the street to Papa Murphy’s, marched in a told the gentleman I wanted “the heart pizza.” A mere $6.30 later, I drove home with a fresh pepperoni pizza, shaped like a heart.

Because I deserve it…along with a bottle of wine.

My journey to the heart (pizza) hasn’t been an easy one, and it’s certainly not over, but every now and then I need a reminder that the journey (and the pizza) is all mine.

DDM
February 11, 2013

I was the proud owner of a dashboard decision maker

At least that’s what we called it

I found it at the bottom

Of a Lucky Charms box

 

It was made of clear plastic

A bubble revealing a die inside

Six sides that held our fate

 

Yes, no, maybe so

 

I shoved it in my pocket

And We hit the streets,

The way we always did

 

No plans

Just us

 

3 blocks from my house

I revealed the plastic toy

 

A stick of gum later

And it was on the jeep dashboard

Like a cheap Garmin

 

Hey, DDM, we’re at a red light

Should we turn left

 

Pop

 

Yes! And left we went

 

Our guide drove us through

The city

A city we had memorized

After years of riding in backseats

Carpooling through the suburbs

Gazing beyond the trees wondering

What was outside of our bubble?

 

Our version of Google maps

Lead us to our favorite place

Where rules didn’t apply

 

We ditched our shoes

Letting our toes feel the earth

 

Countless nights welcomed us

There

To the marina

A lake serving

As the backyard

To mansions we would never know

 

We sipped alcohol

From our parents homes

Smoked flavored cigars

And swam to the floating dock

With a single fear of

creatures

in the water

 

It was a place to see the stars

A place

Only found beyond the maze of

Paved country roads

 

But Somewhere along the route

I lost the guide we had that night

 

Since then, the tires of

The jeep have covered

Enough miles for the Guinness book

The marina sands

Have turned themselves

Bearing witness to

Rites of passage

Adventure-seeking souls

Looking for answers

In the night skies

Worthy of a Tom petty song

 

I can’t help but wonder

Where that dashboard decision maker

Might’ve taken me

If I hadn’t lost it

If I hadn’t lost

You

When You Just Know…
August 10, 2012

I’ve never claimed to be psychic, and sometimes I’m not certain I believe in the ability to predict the future. However, during the summer before my junior year of high school, a girlfriend of mine, Julie, wanted to have her palm read. As I’m usually up for anything, I went along with her.

The psychic was off the main road in downtown Columbus, Indiana. Her “office” was the living room of her home, and when we knocked on her front door she was watching a rousing episode of Full House.

We each paid for a palm reading, half the price of a tarot card session—I’m too scared I’ll get the death card—and Julie went first. I can’t recall what she told Julie, but I will never forget what she told me.

I told her my birthday as she felt my right hand on both sides, touching the lines and the bones. She told me my parents would get a divorce. She also told me that she knew I was struggling between two career paths.

I was, part of me wanted to continue with dance and be a choreographer, while the other part of me wanted to write, and go wherever that would take me. She told me to go with dance.

Finally, she told me that I had a soul mate. He was blonde, tall, and tan. He also had the initials J, C, S, in any order.

We left the old house and analyzed what we heard. My parents weren’t getting a divorce, so I didn’t know how much thought I should invest in the career suggestion or my supposed soul mate. Nonetheless, it was nice to think about a tall, tan, blonde guy waiting for me somewhere in the world.

About a month later, my dad moved out.

While I don’t think a psychic can map out all of the details of our futures, all of us have that gut feeling when something is or isn’t right. Several times in the past, I’ve ignored that feeling, and I always regret it. As I get older, I’ve learned to listen to those feelings and go with my instincts. The outcome is always better.

When it comes to dating, listening to your gut is especially important. I’d venture to say 95% of my dating problems have occurred because I’ve ignored those feelings. In the beginning of a relationship, when everything is fun and exciting, maybe my new guy will do something that seems off, and doesn’t quite fit.

I used to ignore those signs, and say, “Oh, it’s not that big of a deal,” when really, it is a huge deal, and it becomes a massive problem days, months, or even years down the line.

I’m not talking about the way he holds his knife at a nice restaurant or his habit of telling corny jokes, I’m talking about flirting with the waitress (or every woman in sight), doing a bump of cocaine, cheating on his ex with you, etc. The stuff that should be taken seriously, but sometimes it isn’t because you just want things to work.

When my ex of three years tried to dump me via email and phone call, I knew the bad news was coming. However, I demanded he respect me and say it to my face. The fact that I even had to ask for respect while he dumped me is a problem in itself.

Although his prepared speech was about how he just wasn’t feeling it anymore, I knew he had been cheating on me and was dumping me to be with someone else. Suddenly, visions of times I’d ignored popped into my head—him talking about her at dinner, him buying wine for her at the grocery—I don’t know why I hadn’t connected the dots sooner.

I told him this and of course, he denied it. I said, “Oh, how convenient that you’re breaking up with me just in time for the weekend,” and he also denied that having anything to do with it. But I knew the truth. I ripped my house key from his grip and pointed to my front door.

“I hope you’ll answer when I call,” he said.

I shut the door in his face.

Although the breakup was completely necessary, I had a rough time. Friends from all over, even from high school reached out to send me kind messages and share their stories of breakups and love gone wrong with me.

One classmate in particular, Ashley, had several stories for me, and they all comforted me in different ways. She sent me an email one morning after she woke up from a dream (or perhaps a nightmare) that she was marrying her ex boyfriend, and the night before their wedding, he called to tell her he couldn’t do it. She was calling him an hour before the wedding, he wouldn’t answer his phone, and that’s when she woke up.

“I thought my world was coming to an end when my ex broke up with me,” she told me the next day. “I can still remember how it went. He sat down and asked me to come sit by him, because we needed to talk. I knew this wasn’t going to be a good talk.

In that moment, I knew two things: 1., I knew he was breaking up with me, and 2. I knew why he was breaking up with me.

I sat down and looked into his eyes and said, ‘It’s Nikki isn’t it?’ He said no right away, but a woman just knows these things. That’s when the waterworks started, and they weren’t mine.

I didn’t want to be near him. I think I could have beaten him half to death, and I think he would have let me. The guilt he felt still haunts him today. I know because he and I were friends long before we dated, and now the man can’t even look at me.”

One of my best friends, Sheena, has such a strong gut feeling, sometimes it has lead her to the wildest dating stories I’ve ever heard, much less imagined.

Around the time I was with my destructive, cheating ex, Sheena was dating this guy Jeff. Some of the things she told me about him set my radar off, but as her friend I wanted to support her when she was happy, and just be there for her when she needed it.

The beginning of their relationship seemed normal enough, although one night she caught him doing cocaine, which she didn’t approve of. When she confronted him about it, he said he only did it twice a year. She accepted that and moved on.

As you’d expect, he did it more than that, and it just got swept under the rug. However, he was really into partying hard, and Sheena really isn’t. Sometimes, he’d go out without her, drink himself stupid, and ignore her attempts to find him. One night, Sheena called me in a frenzy, and she was driving around her college town looking for his car. She had this feeling he was with his classmate, Amy.

“They’d been in the same Italian class for two or three years, were from the same area, and they were friends,” she told me. “She would come over sometimes while I was at his place, drop off notes, or they would study together. He even took me by her house one night because he had to drop off the Italian textbook they shared, and then we carried on with our evening.”

The night Sheena called me was a month after all of this. Jeff had gathered a group of his friends, and Sheena, to see a movie that was coming out at midnight. However, Sheena wasn’t feeling well, so she went home for the night around 6 pm, telling Jeff to call her later.

“We really didn’t talk the whole night, which was strange,” she said. “I called him around 11, before he was leaving for the movie and he was really weird on the phone. He was very short with me and not acting like he was talking to his girlfriend, which gave me a bad feeling.

So I stayed up until 2:30 or 3 a.m., when I thought the movie would be out and I called him 3 or 4 times throughout the next 30-45 minutes and no no answer. Then, I had my roommate and his roommate call, and they got no answer either.

Since he lived across the street, all I had to do was walk over there to see he wasn’t home and somehow, I just knew he was at that girl’s place. So, I got in my car and drove over there and sure enough, there sat his car in her driveway.

To make sure he actually stayed there, I got up at 8 the next morning and drove by again, and his car was still there. I drove by again at 10:30 and it was still there. Of course, when I asked him what he did, and why he didn’t go home, he lied and said he stayed at his friend Jeremy’s. When I told him I knew he stayed at the girl’s place, he hung up on me and didn’t talk to me for three days.”

At that point, Sheena and Jeff had been dating for three months.

“So awful,” she said. “I should’ve dropped his ass then.”

Unfortunately, Sheena’s gut instinct had to kick in a few more times before she dropped Jeff for good. Several months later, I got a call from Sheena as she was making an early morning investigative trip to Jeff’s house.

“We had gotten in an argument the day before because I was going to Indianapolis to have dinner with my mom and sister, and he never came to my family shit, but I always went to his, so we were pissed at each other, but made up before I left town.

I was weary to leave because he was a bastard and I figured he’d go out and get super drunk and do something stupid.

He was replying to some texts but they were weird and when I called him, I could tell he was really fucked up and he was just like, ‘Come to this bar,’ (knowing I wasn’t in town) and it was around 1:30 or 2 a.m.

Then after that whenever I called and texted him after the bars closed he didn’t respond., which to me was an indication he was with another girl or otherwise he would’ve picked up.”

Sheena called me the next morning, driving from Indianapolis to West Lafayette, on a mission to catch Jeff cheating.

“So, I walked in his front door and saw high heels sitting outside of his room.

I could’ve walked away then fully knowing he had a girl in his room, but I still wanted to see it for myself. So, I walked in his room and his eyes shot open and I walked around the bed so that I could see the girl in front of me, threw up my hands, and walked out.

He said nothing.”

Although Sheena didn’t trust Jeff after that, she gave him one final chance. I can’t blame her, because I did the same thing with my ex. But one event finally happened that broke the camel’s back.

“We were hanging out in the afternoon and he was texting this girl from his hometown that went to college with us that I was also friends with. I think they had a class together or something.

He told me they were texting about the class. I had to go to work in Indianapolis that night, so I was about to leave and wouldn’t be back until like 10 pm, it was probably like 4 pm at this point.

So, I leave and text him a few times while I’m there and when I get back he’s not answering my calls or texts, so I go over to his house. One of his friends was sitting on his front porch waiting for his roommate and I asked him if he had seen Jeff and he said no, so I left.

So I went home and stewed about it. This was when we were on the same cell plan, so I went home and logged on and saw that he had been texting this girl the whole time I was gone and at around 8 pm their texts stopped.

I continued to call and text him throughout the night and got no response. Finally around midnight, I told him if he didn’t respond I was calling his parents because I was worried something happened to him. He responded that he was fine.

That was when I knew he was with another girl. The next day, I called him and he was playing video games with someone, so he was very short, I said, ‘I know you were with Ally last night’ (at this point, I didn’t know they had gone out to dinner) he didn’t deny it, and told me he’d have to call me back later.

An hour after that, I got on Facebook and saw that he took our relationship down. I later found out that this was because he lied to the girl and told her we were already broken up.

He never gave me an explanation or told me what happened, but of course this girl had a big mouth and told all of my friends that he took her to this super nice, expensive sushi place and got bottles of wine, and then they went over to the guy’s house who was sitting on Jeff’s front porch waiting for his roommate for a bon fire and beers, and then like a week later one of the girl’s roommates told me she walked in ally’s room in the morning and Jeff was naked in her bed.”

Sheena hasn’t talked to Jeff since.

Although your intuition might not lead you to something as wild as what I and my friends came to find, but it’s important not to ignore the feelings. There’s a reason you don’t feel right about something. Or, perhaps you have a feeling that something is just so right. After all, they say when you know it’s the one, you just know.

My Introduction
July 25, 2012

I’ve mentioned here before that I’m working on a book with a fellow writer, Gina. Slowly, but surely, we are working through our draft. While I won’t bog you down with all of the details, I thought my part of the “introduction” would be worth sharing, just to give you a taste of my story.

His name was Andy. He was the cutest boy in my second grade class, and I was determined to make him mine.

To do so, I placed a metal ring, painted gold, into my wooden cubby before school one morning. The note attached to it read simply, “From Andy.” When Andy arrived at school, I skipped over to him, sporting the oh-so-glamorous ring, and thanked him for it.

“I gave you that?” he asked.

“Well it said ‘From Andy’,” I replied.

And that settled it. He was my boyfriend.

Even at 7 years old, I had the guts to go out there and snag the man I wanted. But even at 7, I was okay with knowing that it was a lie that got me the guy.

Twenty years and a college degree later, I’ve often found myself in relationships that were built on lies. Unfortunately, those lies run deeper than a ring from a plastic bubble machine.

About 10 years after my fling with Andy, I had my first actual boyfriend, who I shared my first kiss with. It was just a few months after my parents divorced, leaving me with my mother, whom I barely knew.

Patrick, my boyfriend, was a hockey player and popular at school. I felt on top of the world. One night, he even made a heart out of bark on my front doorstep; 24 hours later, he dumped me, saying our relationship wasn’t moving forward physically.

When he jumped right into a relationship with the school slut, I took my anger out by hooking up with nearly the entire basketball team. I don’t know if I was really mad at Pat, or mad about my parents’ divorce, or just mad at the world. In any case, I still ended up hurt and alone.

I have never wanted to be the girl who blames her parents, or her past, for the troubles that still plague me today. However, I’m slowing admitting that we only know what we see and what we’ve felt, and I’ve got some twisted memories.

Despite dating my best friend, a drug addict, a bartender, a pathological liar, a college student, the punk rock kid, my next door neighbor, a personal trainer, a waiter, the guy in the band, and got cheated on by most of them, there remains threads of hope in my heart.

Often, I don’t know where they come from, because the data shows that I should’ve given up by now. But although I always tell myself, and those around me, that I just want to “focus on my career,” I know that I am still waiting to experience true, honest love.

Of course, my dreams about love have changed over the years. Perhaps I’m more cynical, or just a little more real. Now, I am trying to approach my life in a different way. I know that it’s time to put me first, so that one day, I can let someone in to enjoy the real me. That’s the person that’s been lost for 10 years.

Some days, I wonder if this is it. In 10, 15, 20 years, will I wakeup alone, pack my lunch, head to the office, hit the gym, and then eat dinner watching The Bachelorette? In those moments of wonder, that’s when I know I can’t deny my want for love, for a true partner, to spend my nights with — even if we are watching trashy reality television.

Sometimes I may feel alone, but I know I’m not the only one thinking this way, which brings me to writing this book. I can’t tell you a fairytale about love coming true. But I can tell you that I’ve been lied to, cheated on, and even ignored, but the sun still rises with hope in sight.

The 7-year-old me would have concocted a brilliant story of how she’d meet her husband, but in that story I would’ve been a married mom by now. Love isn’t a highway, a math equation, or a recipe.

When the road gets rocky, my hope comes from stories; real stories about crazy love gone wrong, then turning right again. In those moments I know that one day, things will turn right for me, too.

It is my wish, now and 20 years from now, that stories like this will build hope in the hearts of women. Because no one has all the answers, but we know what we’ve been through, and with each experience, we’re laying the bricks for our road to turn right.

Things Justin Bieber taught me.
June 19, 2012

In honor of Justin Bieber’s new album, “Believe” release today, I found it only necessary to share with you things The Biebs has taught me, in love and in life —of course.

  • Good hair matters.
It’s no surprise that The Biebs’ locks have been their own form of celebrity. Next time you’re skipping out on fixing your fro, think of The Biebs.
  • White boys can rock a pair of Nike high tops.
Who knew anyone other than Lil Wayne could look awesome in a pair of high tops? Hell, The Biebs looks so cool in them, he makes me want a pair.
  • The piano is sexy at any age.
The piano is one of the sexiest instruments, of all time. I’ve seen older men play it, and I just melt. But Biebs has proven that it doesn’t matter how young you are; tickling the ivories is hot, hot, hot.
  • Commitment is the best gift.
Sure, I’d love to get flowers or dinner cooked for me (the way to my heart), but the best gift a man can ever offer is his commitment. Whether or not Bieber and Selena last, it’s sweet to see them still together.
  • Pop music still has its place.
Different music trends always come and go, but it’s refreshing to know that pop music still has its place on the radio, tickets to pop concerts still sellout fast, and pop stars still try to make it last.
  • Boyfriends are hot.
Justin’s latest hit, “Boyfriend” gets me dancin’ every. Single. Time. Good beat? Yeah. Good lyrics? Meh. But hey, doesn’t matter!
  • Musicians always win.
Ok, so I said commitment was the best gift, but a serenade comes in at second place. Every girl loves that!
  • A gorgeous smile is completely necessary.
I’m pretty sure The Biebs could rob a bank, then flash a smile and walk a free man. Just sayin’.
  • One person does make a difference.
Sounds cheesy, but seeing all the stir The Biebs creates reminds me that it only takes one person…
  • YouTube can start your career.

Hey, if The Biebs can do it, so can I.

A Place of Yes (part II).
March 15, 2012

I just finished reading “A Place of Yes” by Bethenny Frankel.

I was taking my time with this one, because it has so many great takeaway lessons and I often took lots of notes while reading it.

If you are a Bethenny fan already, I don’t need to explain to you how amazing she is as a woman, a businessperson, a mother, a wife, and now, a writer. She’s got her hands in all the pots, but for all the right reasons, and it works.

In “A Place of Yes,” Frankel shares her secrets as to how she overcame a tough childhood, a rocky adulthood, and even the ins and outs of previous business failures and her persona as the runaway bride.

She breaks the book down into 10 rules to live by, or as she says, 10 rules to living the life you dream:

1. Break the chain. You don’t have to carry baggage from the past; take the good and leave the bad.

2. Find your truth. Listen and do only what’s right for you.

3. Act on it. Don’t wait, don’t sit, don’t put off, just DO.

4. Everything’s your business. Do everything like it’s your job.

5. All roads lead to Rome. Stay focused, work hard, and you’ll end up where you need to.

6. Go for yours. Put yourself first, achieve your goals for you.

7. Separate from the pack. Don’t follow the crown, stand up for your truth.

8. Own it. Even when it’s difficult, admit it, own up to your actions.

9. Come together. Get yourself right first, then connect with others (who deserve you).

10. Celebrate! Drop the worries, and celebrate the good times.

In reading this book, I found I could relate to Frankel and use her rules to help me get over my past and tear through my future with drive and success. Whether dating woes, childhood baggage, or dead-end careers are holding you back, I recommend this book to you! It was such an inspiration to me and I hope you find it to be also.

Cleaving.
February 20, 2012

I just finished reading Julie Powell’s second memoir, Cleaving: A Story of Marriage, Meat, and Obsession.

You might recognize Powell’s name from her first book, Julie and Julia, which I read and loved. Because of that, I was looking forward to reading the sequel, and I wasn’t disappointed.

While Powell’s first book was much about the beginnings of her marriage and her issues with dedicating a year to cooking her way through Julia Child’s cookbook, I was sold that Powell was a sweet, loving wife.

Cleaving derails that image and although shatters any innocent images I once had of her, it makes her real. She opens up about the, now public, affair she had with a man she calls “D”, complete with sexy details and honest confessions.

What Powell did in Cleaving, I hope I can do in How To Make Lemonade: tell my stories of love and dating failures with a sense of real honesty that doesn’t come across too innocent or, on the other hand, too slutty.

To Eric, I am beloved. The Julie I am with him is mercurial, both too much and too weak, someone to be coddled and feared, kept in line, depended upon. The Julie who D knows is someone just a little different. A coconspirator. A playmate. Mischievous, sexy, thrillingly amoral. Someone to whom you’d murmur, as you slid inside her, and felt that answering clench, “Isn’t this the best thing in the fucking world?” The me I feel I am with D is unfamiliar, exhilarating, someone I am constantly sidling up to, excited and frightened. But which one of me is real, the cherished, starstruck girl or the sultry, winking woman? I don’t know these days, have not since the first day D tossed me back onto his bad.

Hey, teach!
February 17, 2012

After weeks of prepping, I had an interview yesterday to determine whether I could teach a class I created all on my own: Blogging for Beginners.

I got the class!

I will say, right from the start, I never ever thought I would teach. However, over the 10 years of my writing career, I have felt a want to show others just how amazing such an outlet can be. Over these years, I’ve been inspired by people and their stories. However, before all of that were some great teachers who lit a fire within me I didn’t even know I had.

And so, I took ahold of an opportunity placed in front of me. I know I love to blog, and I want to show others that it’s easy and fun! The course I have created will teach how to start and maintain any and every type of blog. It will be an interactive class, so my students can get my help as they work.

I am really excited to meet my course participants and see what kind of blogs they’ve been thinking of. I am also looking forward to learning even more about blogging.

Story Submissions.
February 16, 2012

As a reader of this blog, I have to assume you have some experience, or at least interest, in romantic relationships. I have joined thoughts with fellow writer and blogger Gina Gennari of “Just Married” to write a book about dating and relationships.
Although we have several stories between us, we need your input. Please share with us your dating/relationship stories, from meeting the guy/girl and first dates to tying the knot. We’re just as interested in “Happily Ever After” as we are endings and “Starting Over”; we want the great and fabulous, all the way to the bad and the sad. Tell us your story, what you’ve learned, or even any advice you might have to offer.
If we use your story, your level of anonymity is up to you. We can use a first name, initials or a pen name, but we will need your name and contact information just in case we have follow-up questions.
Feel free to leave a comment, or send me an email at wittywriter7@gmail.com

Similar paths.
February 10, 2012

Anna Sofia Martin’s latest article on The Frisky really caught my attention: “8 Tips For Landing a Job or a Man This Valentine’s Day.”

While I’m not looking for either of those things, I’ve never thought about just how similar these two things are: job hunting vs. on the prowl.

Martin finds herself in a rare situation: dumped and laid off a week before heart’s day…and we thought simply being single was bad, sheesh! But I completely admire Martin’s positivity and courage to just go after what she wants.

One of my favorite tips is no. 5. Do I Want What You Want? Use your time together wisely for the must-do Q&A session.

This is something I feel I don’t do enough of, gauging what I want versus what the person or job is offering me.

What do you think? Do you approach the job hunt and the date search differently, or do you use similar tactics?

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