Simply Solo Spotlight: When Only a Bad Boy Will Do
Happy Simply Solo Spotlight Tuesday! Okay, okay. I know I’ve been a little MIA lately. I came back from Hawaii, told you about skydiving, and haven’t written in the two weeks since. I promise that all is good; I’ve just been tackling some pretty cool projects at work and am keeping happily busy. I promise I’ll write a new post just as soon as I can!
In the meantime, you get to read this funny guest post by Deanna Roy, author of Single Edged Blades: 7 Stories for a Broken & Angry Heart, a book all about the Bad Boys who REALLY wish they’d never dated a writer.
Quick shameless plug: Do you have a story to tell? Advice to offer? Did you just have literally the worst date of your life and you must write about it? I’d love to have you as the next Simply Solo Spotlight! Contact me at: simplysoloblog@gmail.com.
When Only a Bad Boy Will Do
The bedroom eyes of BadBoy867 watched me from the sidebar, and I willed myself not to click. Even an innocent glance at his profile would alert him to my interest, as OKCupid maintained a “visitor” list, and I was too cheap to upgrade to anonymity.
I had just come off a double dose of bad boys, meeting one in the hallway by the bathroom of a bar when I was supposed to be waiting for the drummer on stage to finish his set. Both situations were disastrous.
Drummer Boy neglected to mention the impending arrival of Little Drummer Boy, and stumbling to his door one night at 3 a.m. to an ex with a baby belly sitting on his couch had been no gentle wake-up call.
So I moved on to Mr. Bathroom Rendezvous, who turned out to be pseudo-homeless, more interested in my shower and my refrigerator than a relationship.
I’d had more bad boys through my door than a principal’s office, and yet, there didn’t seem to be a 12-step program that led to the Nice Guys. I tried to date them, I really did, and for a while enjoyed the novelty of flowers and good restaurants.
But OKCupid’s insistence on labeling men as Matches, Friends or Enemies had opposite the intended effect. Despite carefully putting in answers about true love, long relationships and walks on the friggin’ beach, every time someone came up as 60% enemy, I knew they were for me.
And so I’d go, admiring the tats, the three-day-old stubble, the silver chain across the hip. I had a type, and it wasn’t Helvetica. Times Roamin’ all the way.
I knew the cycle of ecstasy-misery had to end sometime. Part of me realized that the crash was actually part of the fun, the rock bottom they talk about in AA so that you can pick yourself up when there is nowhere lower to go.
But then comes the day when you move to the next dating site age bracket and suddenly you wonder what the hell you’re doing. How long can I really get away with leather skirts and push-up bras?
Deanna and her Nice Guy fiance
I’ve picked a Nice Guy now, and it looks like he’s going to be the keeper, provided I actually show up for this shindig everyone’s invited to in June. Thing is, he’s figured out he has a Bad Girl, and half the fun is helping him do all the things to ensure we both hang on to the Nice Girl underneath.
Do you have a Bad Boy addiction? How did you kick it?
Copyright 2012. Simply Solo blog by Catherine Gryp. All Rights Reserved.
Simply Solo Spotlights: Dear Valentine
I’m really excited about today’s Simply Solo Spotlights to celebrate Valentine’s Day. You heard me right, spotlights, plural. Here I’ve compiled valentines from some of my favorite bloggers and friends on Twitter. I hope you enjoy, and please visit each of their sites to read more of their writing! Happy Valentine’s Day!
Quick shameless plug: Do you have a story to tell? Advice to offer? Did you just have literally the worst date of your life and you must write about it? I’d love to have you as the next Simply Solo Spotlight! Contact me at: simplysoloblog@gmail.com.
To: My Valentine
Hi…
Listen, I know I say I love you every day. And I try to never make it routine, or habitual or taken for granted.
But today, on Valentine’s Day, I don’t just want to say I love you. I want to write to tell you how much I am absolutely, head over heels, madly in love with you …
Since the first day, having you in my life has changed me, all the way to the core. I am kinder. More patient. More forgiving. You took a man who was inherently quite selfish, and made him think first of you. Just by being you. That’s no small accomplishment. And it’s a gift for which I can never repay you.
I admire your mind, and am fascinated by the way it works. The way you look at something, examine it, turn it over and over. The way you take things apart and break them down to see how they really are and how they work. All the while, just looking. Seeing. Honestly and purely, without judgment or criticism. It’s just amazing to me.
Your body is a work of art. Flawless skin. Luminescent eyes. Infectious smile and laugh. And those locks! I could bury my nose in them til the day I die. I’d walk a thousand miles just to rub your back, run my fingers through your hair, or feel your tender kiss on my rough cheek. Every cell is a miracle, and a delight to behold.
But by far, what I love about you most is your heart. Your very soul. Your kindness. Your gentility. Your sense of humor. But most of all I am in awe of your capacity to forgive. Even when I know you’re hurting, you are the purest, most loving person I have ever known. And your forgiveness, quick and unflinching, has gotten me through those low times when I fall into self-pity and think that I’m not good enough to deserve you.
And so this Valentine’s Day I want you to know that you are the greatest love I have ever known, and will ever know.
- Paul and his son Robbie
You are truly a gift from God. I am humbled, grateful and unworthy to have you in my life.
You are my reason, BooBoo. You are the love of my life.
Happy, Joyful Valentine’s Day, Robbie.
Love,
Dad
By: @PaulSchmidtRVA
—
My sweet, my darling,
Every love story has a file in my heart; ready to be pulled out when I need a sweet memory or the reminder of an important lesson. Your file is there too, yellow with age, crumply and dusty, fighting for its rightful space among the others.
How could it not be? You are the oldest story in my heart. You are the one by which all others were compared.
Fourteen, we were, on that day when both of us, for the first time, had a valentine. The courtship had lasted years; we evolved from childhood friends to homework buddies to, finally, sweethearts. You confessed your love for me over the phone, and I responded the next day when I held your hand secretly during lunch. Suddenly, without our realizing it, we were imprinted in each other’s histories. First love planted its seed, and the people we would become, eternally hopeful for the purest of loves, were formed.
I have been given caramel-filled truffles, serenading cards, perfumed roses, and sparkling blue bracelets by scores of men more experienced in love and more schooled in romance than you.
But none of them got it right. You, with your ingenuity and innocence, did not know to give me a gift or write me a card. But you pulled me aside after assembly, away from the other girls with their candy grams, and you kissed me. And then, you gave me the gift I would come to wait for from every man; you pulled me close and said, “Feel my heart. You are in it now.”
That was all I needed, a little place guaranteed in the heart of the boy I loved. That is all I have ever needed since.
Our story, as you know, did not turn out to be a romantic comedy. There was no happily ever after for us. Although our first sparks were angelic in their purity and indisputable in their power, they belonged to the teenagers we once were, and did not have a place in the lives of the adults we became.
But, my darling boy, your place in my heart is safe. A sacred spot – the first spot I ever gave away – rest assured that no amount of new files can diminish it.
I hope, with all of my heart, that you feel loved on this day. I hope you are able to give to the right woman what you once gave me; a place in your heart.
Happy Valentine’s Day, to you, my first Valentine.
With care,
Your darling girl.
By: Larissa from Thoughts Simply Arise
—
My dear Valentine,
You changed my life the moment we met. I remember when I first laid eyes on you, from across a crowded big box retail store. You looked dazzling in the light, slim and pretty. And smart, too. The first time I held you I knew I had to bring you home, and once we got in the car I wasted no time peeling away your outer garments. How good it felt to caress your smooth body. I must have been doing something right because you positively lit up when I pressed your buttons. I played with you for hours that evening, and you gave me everything I desired. Sometimes I feel you tremble in my hand … or, if we’re being coy, down in my pocket. You’re the last thing I see before closing my eyes at night, and every morning you wake me with a sweet melody. Best of all, you never play games. Unless I’m in the mood, in which case we have been known to role play. You are everything I ever wanted; dare I say it?
You complete me.
I love you, my HTC Evo 4G.
By: Mark Petruska from Mark My Words
—
Dear The Day After Valentine’s Day,
It’s not that I want to neglect you, Valentine’s Day. It’s just that I love the day after Valentine’s Day more. And we will get to the why in a moment.
I’ve never been much of a Valentine’s Day kind of girl. It always seemed so forced and contrived, and well … Hallmark-esque. I always appreciated the little random thoughtful things boyfriends have done for me rather than them feeling like they had to do something for me because it was Valentine’s Day.
Throughout my marriage, my ex-husband and I would get each other Valentine’s Day gifts here or there. He would always bring me flowers, and had even gotten me an unbelievable bracelet the year my son was born. I couldn’t appreciate it really because I was nearly nine months pregnant and the thought of wearing anything other than one of his T-shirts didn’t appeal to me in any way. But it was sweet, and at the time, I told him totally unnecessary. After all, I explained, this was a fake holiday. On Valentine’s Day, strictly because I felt pressure to acknowledge it, I would leave little notes for him on the bathroom mirror for him to discover on his way to work and would get him a token gift, but it really ended there. I would much rather surprise him with little gifts on days he wasn’t expecting it, just as he did me.
One of my boyfriends after my divorce took Valentine’s Day very seriously. He bought me a Chanel bag (I am lucky in the gift arena sometimes) and sent me two hundred roses. He was a bit over the top in a crazy what-the-f-but-I-will-take-it kind of way. He also made reservations at one of those pre-fixe dinners at a fancy restaurant. We showed up for the “first seating.” There were two. There is something about having to rush out for the next party that feels very unromantic to begin with. The restaurant was filled with red balloons and awkward couples drinking champagne. I cringed at the idea of us even being there. Nothing to do with him, but it felt so uncomfortable. I would look to the left to see couples holding hands, look to the right to see couples gazing into each other’s eyes … all because the scene was set. For Valentine’s Day. It felt like a mix between speed dating and a bad episode of The Love Boat. Where the boat may or may not have been sinking.
It’s not that I am trying to rain on anyone’s love parade; it’s just that love should be celebrated every day. Not just because the proverbial they say it has to be. I personally, would rather flowers show up for no reason than because my man feels forced to send them.
- Photo courtesy of Thefatkidfoodblog
However, there is one thing I do like about Valentine’s Day. Chocolate. You know in movies, where people get those enormous hearts with 200 pieces of chocolate in them for Valentine’s Day. I never saw those in real life. Where do they sell them? But the only thing I love more than chocolate on Valentine’s Day … is chocolate the day after Valentine’s Day. Why, you ask? Because the same box of chocolate that was $50 is now on a sale rack for $5. And I like that. In fact, that is my favorite part of Valentine’s Day. So to the day after Valentine Day chocolate sale … I love you. You complete me.
So if you are feeling blue, like you have no one to share this Valentine’s Day with, don’t worry. You can share it with the cashier at CVS or Walgreens, or Godiva or anywhere that you can buy some “I love you” chocolate. And go eat it. At half the price!
Love…everyday,
Darcy from Darcy Dates
—
Dear Valentine,
I don’t know you. You don’t know me.
Actually, we haven’t even met yet.
But when that time finally comes we will both know it was well worth the wait.
I know you’re out there somewhere.
When life decides our paths should finally cross we will know we were meant for each other the moment our eyes meet.
Our bond will be instant, a friendship forever.
You will know a life filled with love, laughter, playfulness, and joy.
You will know no better home than the one we share together.
I will care for you better than any other person and will show you the same loyalty as you will inevitably show me.
You are the Odie to my Jon. The Zero to my Jack. The Snoopy to my Charlie Brown.
The Scooby to my Shaggy.
You will be my dog.
And I will not be your master but your best friend.
By: Matthew from Inside the Nice Guy
—
Happy Valentine’s Day, John!
Here we are, after 10 years of such a loving relationship – isn’t it crazy – that it always comes around, back to you? There’s something about you. But hey, who says I can’t be free, from all of the things that I used to be? Sometimes, it seems like all we ever do is say goodbye, but let’s move it along, and that’s the way this wheel keeps workin’ out.
I remember our first date; my stupid mouth, but we closed our tab, split a cab, and called each other up when we got home. It was then, I would think ‘maybe this mattress will turn on its axis and find me on yours.’ What’s a girl to do, when your body is a wonderland? I knew I was through, when I said ‘I love you.’
I never want to stop this train, because you’ve got my only heart, and you can call what’s ours whatever you want to, but I’m calling it love soon. I can tell you one thing is for sure: good love is on the way.
And so, February, won’t you be my Valentine? Thanks for choosing me over all the others (Jennifer Love Hewitt, Taylor Swift, Kim Kardashian, Jessica Simpson, Jennifer Anniston …) but would you want me when I’m not myself?
John, you’re the brightest thing I’ve got, and this morning, there’s a calm I can’t explain. The rock candy’s melted, only diamonds now remain.
Love always,
Lucky
—
To my one true love Ryan (Gosling),
First, I want to say how amazing the past year has been. I know you’ve recently come into your own as a big famous movie star, but I want to say thank you for remaining a hot piece of ace. I also wanted to say that I appreciated you taking your clothes off in Crazy, Stupid, Love this year – It was an amazing reminder as to why I love you so.
Your performance in Drive was uncanny, even though you said so little while looking smoldering hot, I couldn’t help but be turned on while watching you drive fast and beat the crap out of bad guys. You are the yummy in my tummy!
I know that we have had our ups and downs, but I must say again how truly sorry I am that you had to find out about my past with George Clooney on the set of Ides of March. I’m happy we were able to work through it, and our relationship is so much stronger today because of it. I also want you to know that because our love is so pure I am ignoring this whole Eva Mendes thing, this too shall pass. Sometimes we have to go off our beaten path to realize why the path was put there in the first place. I’ll see you soon great love of mine, I’ll see you soon.
Forever,
Gizzy
These last two valentines are by Lucky and Gizzy from Cocktails at Tiffany’s who are planning out their fairytale weddings to A-list celebrities on their new blog. It’s a once-in-a-lifetime event, so be there to witness the planning, the parties, and of course, the drama.
I hope that you enjoyed this compilation of untraditional valentines. If you had to write an nontraditional valentine (ie, a valentine for anyone but your significant other), who would you write it to? Happy Valentine’s Day!
Copyright 2012. Simply Solo blog by Catherine Gryp. All Rights Reserved.
Simply Solo Spotlight: Happiness Defined
Happy Tuesday! Today’s guest post is written by Halen Gori of Enduramoments, a blog about Halen’s children, endurance training and her transition to a “me” instead of being part of a “we.”
Quick shameless plug: Do you have a story to tell? Advice to offer? Did you just have literally the worst date of your life and you must write about it? I’d love to have you as the next Simply Solo Spotlight! Contact me at: simplysoloblog@gmail.com.
Happiness Defined
What is happiness? Can it be defined, or is it a different feeling for everyone? Happiness is elusive. Happiness is like the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow … does it exist so you believe, or do you believe therefore it exists? I don’t claim to know for sure, but I know what happiness is NOT.
Let me start at the beginning. That way my journey will make sense to you. This year has been the most difficult of my entire life, and I have kids, so I know difficult! New Year’s Eve, while the rest of the world celebrated, I went to bed early because I didn’t want to give 2011 the satisfaction of even getting a goodbye. I called out a “don’t let the door hit you on the way out” and awoke to a new year. Hopefully a new year + a new life = happiness!!
Halen's beloved greyhound Doc who passed away this past August
2011 brought a dump truck load of smelly cow manure crashing down on me. I lost my job, lost my dog, lost a loved friend (luckily not to death) and lost my husband. I shouldn’t say I lost him, because I know where he is. He’s living in our old house with our two young girls. Maybe I should say I gained an ex. Either way, I am no longer married. All in the quest to find happiness. Did I find it? I’m going to make you read the whole post before enlightening you. To do otherwise would just be bad marketing!
I was married for 11 years, but with my ex for 13. I can barely remember last week, so a lot of the memories over the last 13 years are caught in cobwebs in the back of my brain closet. There are a few specific moments that became clear as my ex and I went through couples counseling. At the time, these events were easily explained away. One such memory is very vivid. The second day of our honeymoon, I sat on one of the most beautiful beaches in Hawaii and cried. At the time, I really and truly believed that I was homesick. Wrong answer. I was sad. Sad the wedding party was over, sad that my family all went home, sad because I was supposed to be celebrating something I didn’t feel. I was in Hawaii! Hawaii is for lovers, but I didn’t feel (or act) like a lover. I was a tourist! Room service, champagne, strawberries … NO WAY! I want to go explore!
As the years went by and babies popped out, I felt heavier and heavier. I kept trying to shove away the blanket that was weighing me down. I rationalized to myself that marriage isn’t always great; there are ups and downs and all that crap. Isn’t this what marriage was supposed to be? How the hell would I know? I’ve never been married before! This feeling would come and go, interrupted by events, kids, family. But like bad street food, it kept coming back up.
I finally decided it was time for a change. Hearts were broken (his), fingers were pointed (at me) and even the dog would get upset when we would have an emotional discussion (he hadn’t died yet). We took space for a while to let things settle before deciding on couple’s therapy. I was hopeful. I went to see Crazy A (our therapist’s nickname due to her crazy but completely wonderful, free-spirited personality) and had a goal from the get-go. I wanted to love my husband. Correction, I wanted to be IN LOVE with my wonderful, kind and amazing husband. Weeks and weeks went by; things seemed to improve and I would think, YES!! Then, NO!! Then, maybe?? Am I happy? Possibly. I hope so!
Halen in May 2011 after she ran the Key Bank Vermont City Marathon and succeeded in qualifying for the Boston Marathon
Then things fell apart. All the hard work, talking, exercises … I felt no different. How silly! Crazy A may have been crazy, she may have been a genius, but she wasn’t capable of magic. No therapist can make you, teach you, or convince you to love someone if you just don’t. Once we both realized this and I moved out, I felt that weight gently lift. Slowly but surely, peeking out into the light and blinking from the brightness, was happiness. It showed itself just a little at first and eventually more and more. We became friends. We hung out, me and happiness, BFFs. It’s been a long journey, but happiness comes to stay with me for about two weeks at a time. It disappears every once in a while for a day or so, but always returns. Actually, once a month for about three days, happiness gets bound and gagged and thrown in the basement, but thankfully it doesn’t hold a grudge.
Halen's oldest daughter
How do I know it is happiness I’m feeling? Well, I don’t do drugs, so it’s not that. Things look different through happiness. The sun seems brighter; I notice and smile at little things, like the mom and her toddler in the coffee shop, or a duck sliding around on the frozen pond. Things like hearing a donkey hee-haw in real life or smelling my children’s hair make me feel warm and sunny inside. Getting out of bed and not dreading the day, having the “today just feels like a good day,” feeling seems like happiness.
Halens youngest daughter
Watching my children and really seeing them for the first time, their beauty, their innocence, their distinct personalities and the amazing way they change a little bit every day. I need to touch them constantly. These are all things that went unnoticed or unrecognized before.
Before, I survived, now, I LIVE. I dream big and go for it. I found that rebellious spirit I once had that when told “you can’t do that,” responds with, “watch me.” I am more present in my relationships with people. I care about their lives and do what I can to help. I am finally the friend I’ve always wanted to be, less judgmental and more accepting. I dove into running and a triathlon with new energy. I went back to school to pursue a different degree that would allow my constantly running, creative, full-of-big-ideas machine to get some use.
I still have flaws. I still get sad. I still miss people I don’t see anymore (and of course, the dog). I still have healing to do. If I compare where I am now with where I was two years ago, I think I now know what happiness is and I think it’s here to stay.
How has your journey taught you what true happiness feels like?
Copyright 2012. Simply Solo blog by Catherine Gryp. All Rights Reserved.
Fly Sexy: Skydiving in Hawaii
When I begged for your help with the Rioja Wines contest, I promised that if I won, I would do the following with the $250 prize:
I’m going to do something fun with the money. And by fun, I don’t mean put it toward my new car. That would be responsible. I plan on being irresponsible and I’ll share that irresponsibility with you.
Well, as you know by now, I won** the contest while I was in Hawaii. But I had a dilemma. What should I do with the money?
I thought about buying this Tiffany’s necklace I’ve loved for a long time, but just can’t justify the cost. I also considered buying a piece of art work I’ve been eyeing. I even debated blowing it all on a fabulous and overpriced dinner at The Source in Washington, D.C. (the Wolfgang Puck restaurant whose reviews Chef and I have been drooling over but we can’t bring ourselves to spend that much money on one meal).
But none of these options seemed quite right.
They didn’t seem quite fun enough.
They weren’t irresponsible enough.
And then I remembered what Katie from Domestiphobia texted me the day I went to Hawaii:
“Be sure to hit up North Shore if you can and the town of Kailua if you have time. I prefer the small artsy towns to Honolulu. :) Oh and go skydiving!!! That’s where we did it and it was fantastic!!”
So it was decided. I was going to spend the money going to the small artsy town of Kailua.
Syke! (Yes, I just said syke. Hello, early 90s.)
Just like the title of this blog post spoiled, I decided to go skydiving. Okay, I should probably clarify. I half-decided to go skydiving. Because I’m a scaredy-Cat. (Get it, Cat – my name is Catherine – okay. I probably shouldn’t have to explain it. Moving along.)
I’ve casually talked about skydiving for years. It’s on the list of all the other crap I’ve talked about doing, but never actually got around to doing. You know, skydive, run a marathon, get married, write a book, actually keep a New Year’s resolution. The usual.
But here I was in Hawaii, with the opportunity to actually go skydiving, and I was scared out of my mind.
For days, I entertained the thought. I called skydive shops and compared prices. (Because clearly, price is a very important factor when risking your life jumping out of a perfectly good plane). I tried to get others to go with me. One morning, I finally worked up the nerve to book my trip, and then found out that they weren’t skydiving that day because the trade winds were too bad.
I felt like a death row inmate who had just been given a pardon at the very last second. Now, I could say I tried to go skydiving while I was in Hawaii, but the winds were just too bad. I was a total bad ass … but the damn weather got in my bad ass way.
Would you have bought that?
Well, the problem was, I still had about a week left of my vacation. So that excuse wouldn’t really hold up. I called a few other mornings, and found that the winds were still too bad.
Then, I called on January 19. My 27th birthday. And the lady said yes, they were skydiving today.
I panicked and told her I’d call back later. I couldn’t hang up the phone fast enough.
When I told my dad that skydiving was an option today, he said to me, “So, are you going to go skydiving? Or are you going to wuss out?”
I told him I wasn’t sure yet. Shortly after, as I was in the shower, his words haunted me.
Was I really going to wuss out?
I had the money. I was in Hawaii. You couldn’t ask for a prettier skydiving location. It was my birthday for God’s sake. And Katie looked like she had so much fun when she went.
And then it hit me: I cannot handle being the girl who wussed out of skydiving for the rest of this family vacation. Scratch that: for the rest of my life. As I was rinsing the conditioner out of my hair (remember, I was in the shower), I imagined my future if I didn’t go skydiving.
“Dad, I’m thinking of buying a condo/dying my hair red/joining a cult/insert whatever life milestone you’d like. What do you think?” I’d ask.
“Might be a good idea. If you don’t wuss out of it like you wussed out of skydiving,” I imagined my dad replying.
I got out of the shower and immediately began to book the trip.
Some of the fear was released when the lady on the phone basically called me a heffer.
“You not fat, right?” was one of her very first questions.
“I mean, I have some junk in the trunk, if that’s what you’re asking. Child-bearing hips, that’s for sure,” was my response. I really wasn’t prepared to defend my body this morning – especially after spending the past week and a half eating and drinking whatever I wanted while I was on vacation.
“You not too fat to skydive though, right? You not over 200 pounds? You over 200 pounds, we charge you extra. You way too fat, you can’t skydive at all.”
Phew. Her definition of fat and my definition of fat are definitely different. Happy to say, I was not too “fat” to skydive.
Within two hours, the trusty bus from Skydive Hawaii picked me up at my hotel. After making sure my seat belt was securely fastened, we were off to pick up my fellow skydivers.
Loving the rainbow theme
Because even when you are about to jump out of a plane, you better buckle your seat belt. Safety is key.
On the bus, I met a group of college students that were in Hawaii on a school trip. They made me feel slightly old, as well as wish I went to a different college (I don’t remember any trips to Hawaii at my school!), but they were a fun bunch of kids.
Jesus, I am old. I just called college students a “bunch of kids.” I digress.
The college kids adopted me into their group and agreed to be my jumping buddies.
The college kids
Immediately upon arriving at Skydive Hawaii, you are accosted with a clipboard and a super scary contract that you must sign before moving forward. The key points of the contract were:
- You are going to could die.
- You can’t sue us when if you die or get seriously injured.
- Your health insurance will laugh in your face if you try to get them to cover any skydiving injuries.
- You are crazier than shit to be doing this. You don’t have to do this. Actually, we suggest you don’t do this.
- Have I mentioned that you could die?
Here's where you sign your life away
No really, you could die. OK with you?
Love the bold print at the end. Not scary at all.
As I’m reading through the eight pages – each page reminding me of how I could be making the biggest mistake of my life – I hear a video playing.
Oh, it’s the maker of the parachute I’ll be using. A sweet, grey haired fellow. Great, I’d love to hear all about how effective your parachutes are. I listen to the old man talk.
“I’m here to tell you that there is no perfect parachute. My parachute isn’t perfect. It could fail at any time for any reason. Skydiving is extremely dangerous.”
That’s reassuring.
I signed the contract. My whole reason for going – not wanting to be a wuss – is the only thing that kept me moving forward with this ridiculous plan. How much of a wuss would I be if I turned around and went back to the hotel now? I’d never live it down!
For the next hour or so, the college kids and I watched several planes take off, and the skydivers safely reach the ground.
Well, that doesn’t look so hard. They all survived. Maybe this isn’t so dangerous, after all?
But what if the fact that they survived means that I have statistically higher chances of dying myself?
Yes, that’s where my mind went. I’ve never been so scared in my life.
Big Jim and me, getting ready to go
At this point, I met Big Jim, the guy who would be tandem skydiving with me at 14,000 feet. When he started to suit me up, I expected some serious instructions. I wished that I had a notepad to keep track of all the life-affirming skills he was going to teach me about skydiving. (Speaking of wishes, I also wished that I’d worn pants, because wearing shorts with this skydiving gear is simply a terrible idea. I basically looked like I wasn’t wearing any shorts at all. And like most girls, I absolutely love my thighs. And showing them off to the world in their full glory. Insert sarcasm.)
Here was my lesson:
- When we jump out of the plane, keep your arms crossed across your chest. Arch your back and lean backwards.
- When I tap your arms, open them.
- When we land, lift your legs and let me touch down first.
Umm, the shortness of that lesson was just a bit disconcerting. What about if you pass out and I need to open the parachute myself? You gonna show me how that thing works – just in case? Apparently not.
I asked him what the biggest mistake I could make would be. “I’m glad you asked. There is one mistake you can make, and I’ve seen it made tons of times. It’s really important,” Big Jim said, very serious.
Where is my damn notebook when I need it? I thought. “What is it?”
“Don’t forget to fly sexy.”
Here is the little plane in which I would be risking my life.
Big Jim swore he was having an "on-day" at work. As the plane ascended, I asked him a million frantic questions, and he answered each one calmly. Loved Big Jim.
I had just found we were going to be the first tandem group to jump out of the plane. The view was beautiful. This expression on my face is not me admiring said beauty, but me being scared out of my mind.
Everyone looks pretty intense. I took a moment to pray. Then I figured God probably didn't appreciate me praying as I unnecessarily risked my life, so I just hoped for the best.
I think my eyes were completely shut during the leap from the plane.
Seriously the coolest feeling of my life.
Once I felt the tap on my shoulders, I was able to open my arms.
Of course, we had to do some peace signs and the like.
Definitely flying sexy and getting the hang of it now.
This is seriously not my normal birthday view.
Just before our parachute opened. When it did, it scared the bejesus out of me.
This is such a cool shot.
Upon seeing this view, I cried. No longer out of fear, but because it was so beautiful and I was so proud of myself for conquering my fears. I've never felt emotions quite like these before in my life.
After an amazing ride, we came in for the landing.
I was suddenly really scared again. I mean, this is when people break bones and stuff!
Big Jim's plan was for us to land our butts. And that we did.
The adrenaline, relief and pure joy I felt when we hit the ground was overwhelming. Big Jim exclaimed, "Happy Birthday, Catherine!" It was definitely a birthday I will never forget.
I also bought a video of the experience:
Goals: Spend the prize money in a fun, irresponsible way; and make my birthday in Hawaii an unforgettable one.
Mission accomplished.
Copyright 2012. Simply Solo blog by Catherine Gryp. All Rights Reserved.
Simply Solo Spotlight: My Self-Help Shelf Is Full
Today’s Simply Solo Spotlight is written by R from Single Mom’s Ramble. R says she spent five years after her divorce waiting for something amazing to happen and finally decided she needed to get off her butt and make it happen (something we can all learn from!). I hope you enjoy today’s guest post and please head over to R’s blog for more of her story.
Quick shameless plug: Do you have a story to tell? Advice to offer? Did you just have literally the worst date of your life and you must write about it? I’d love to have you as the next Simply Solo Spotlight! Contact me at: simplysoloblog@gmail.com.
My Self-Help Shelf is Full
My “self-help shelf” is full! As I squeezed “Calling in “’The One’” into the last inch of space I had left on my “self-help shelf,” I glanced across the titles: “The Happiness Project,” “365 Tao,” “He’s Just Not That Into You,” “Finding Your Way Home,” and “Eat, Pray, Love.” Yes, yes, I WANT to do all that. Eat, Pray and Love someone after finding my way home from the man who’s just not that into me, and into the arms of “the one” who knows the four sacred contracts and also has been studying how to give your mate the best back massage ever. (I’ll have to look and see if they sell that one?!) Where is he and how can the shelf be full? My quest began with the first few that would help me heal my broken heart; the next couple would explain the mystery that is MEN. Then I realized that in order to catch the perfect mate, I needed to understand who I was, so I bought a few more … well you get the idea. I was really hoping to be done with this self-help journey, and on to busying myself reading Bride Magazine or “Blending Families” way before the shelf was full.
Actual photo of R's book shelf
My “self-help shelf” is full! You would think after reading all this sage information that I, Rambling Single Mom, should be a happy, successful, religiously enlightened person. I would be someone who understands my deepest wants and needs as well as those of my divinely amazing “soul mate” who came to me when I wasn’t looking! Did I do something wrong; what step did I miss along the way?
My “self-help shelf” is full (did I already tell you that?). I have read every word of those books. I have poured over the deep and meaningful content. I’ve laughed and cried as I’ve seen myself on so many of the pages. I’ve followed the courses: 12 months to happiness, seven weeks to calling in “the one.” I’ve dealt my archetype cards, closed my eyes and opened Richard Bach’s “Messiah’s Handbook” to see what deep message there is for me, and yet … here I am, still single.
My “self-help shelf” is full. For this last book, I actually went to the book store instead of ordering online. Wow! The place is crawling with men, who knew? They didn’t say anything in any of those books about hanging out at the book store! There I was sitting at home on my couch, reading about how to change my life, when I could have been running into “the one” in the self-help aisle, or better yet, the travel section.
My “self-help shelf” is full, and if I really analyze my life, I am happier! Happier than I was when I started this journey; maybe I should give the books some credit? I’m over the heartbreak from “the last one;” I am more aware of my thoughts on religion; I’ve discovered how to listen to my inner intuition “gut;” and I do feel that I have a better understanding of men, what they think, and what I should do to keep them coming back for more! Ok … that’s a lie, I still have no idea! But in the end, I’m happy, my kids are happy, I’m actively seeking my destiny, and the only thing missing is my man. For now that will have to be OK.
My life is full: of work, of kids, of music and of Internet maybes. My fortune cookie said tonight, “We live at the edge of the miraculous.” I am standing on the precipice. I think there’s room for the fortune on the shelf, and then maybe there is another trip to the bookstore in my future? This time however, I think I’ll just find one of those comfy chairs and read the next book there; after all … my “self-help shelf” is full.
Copyright 2012. Simply Solo blog by Catherine Gryp. All Rights Reserved.
Limes Are Dangerous
I’m baa—aack!
I returned Tuesday from my trip to Hawaii. I know, I know. I’m a little slow. Return Tuesday and don’t get a blog post up until Friday. You have to understand, it’s been a crazy couple of days. First of all, I have been super jet lagged. This was sort of a surprise to me. I always thought jet lag was a lie rich people told to brag about their amazing trips.
“I’m so jet lagged from my trip to Tahiti,” they’d say.
“You just want to brag about your trip to Tahiti,” I’d think. Insert a silent “bitch” at the end of that sentence, if you’d like.
Well, I am soooo jet lagged from my trip to Hawaii. AKA: I can’t wait to tell you about my trip. Which I plan to do next week, once the official vacation photographer (my sister, Natasha) shares all the pictures with me.
I’ve also been super busy worrying about a nice little skin condition I picked up in Hawaii. Let me tell you, WebMD is not your friend when you have an unidentified rash. Don’t act like you don’t know what I’m talking about – just about everyone with access to the Internets has decided an innocuous headache is a brain tumor and held a tearful goodbye with their loved ones. I know I’m not alone here.
I had these random patches of darker skin: one on my forehead and three on my legs. They didn’t hurt or itch or anything, but since being diagnosed with psoriasis, I’m trying to take better care of my skin, so I headed to the dermatologist. I know you are just begging for a picture (you weirdo), so here it is:
I waited anxiously at the dermatologist’s office, wondering what terrible Hawaiian disease I had come down with. Am I going to live? Okay, let’s not be silly. Of course I’m not going to live. How long do I have?
The dermatologist took one look at the mysterious spots and asked, “Did you happen to handle any limes while you were in Hawaii?”
Well, yes … yes, I did. One day, I was making a mixed drink on the beach, and realized I didn’t have a knife to cut my lime. Well, a lime is a citrus, like an orange, right? So I figured it wouldn’t hurt to peel a lime, like you would an orange.
Okay, I know you are wondering what a peeled lime looks like. You’re welcome.
Trust me, I would not suggest peeling a lime. The lime juice got all under my nails and stung something terrible. And, my fingers were all sticky. At which point, I must have rubbed my hands on my thighs and touched my forehead.
Apparently getting lime juice on your skin and then sitting out in the sun is a no-no. It causes something called phytophotodermatitis, or Margarita Dermatitis. Totally safe, and it will go away on its own, but no fun and definitely not cute when you are trying to show off your tan to all your pale friends.
Because Simply Solo is a purely educational blog (ha!), I felt the need to share this compelling information about Margarita Dermatitis with you. Together, we can fight this epidemic. Will you please do your part to ensure not another person has to needlessly suffer the terrible effects of eating limes on the beach?
Anyway, some big things happened while I was in Hawaii:
- I spent more time with my dad, step mom and two sisters than I have since middle school.
- Addendum to the above: We spent all this time together, and didn’t kill each other. (We actually had a TON of fun!)
- Chef took down my Christmas tree. (For the record: It is January 27 and my neighbor’s tree is still up. I admire their bravery.)
- Based on a bunch of your suggestions, I started reading The Hunger Games series. So far, loving it.
- Thanks to all of your help, I won the Rioja Wines contest!**
Okay, so that last bullet has a little ** next to it, which indicates fine print that you really don’t want to read, but it’s suggested you do. It’s kind of like that miracle diet pill that will make you lose four pounds a week**, and the fine print details how you’ll be throwing up constantly and lose all the hair on your head, but grow it back on your butt. So if you are the kind of person who would rather avoid the fine print, CONGRATS! Together, we won the Rioja Wines contest and I am now $250 richer! The end.
Now, here’s the fine print (and back story). If you remember (if not, read this post), I was up against some really competitive coworkers to get the most entries for the contest. I begged encouraged you all to enter and tell everyone you know. I also enlisted the help of a few blogging buddies, clients, friends and coworkers (BIG shout outs to Rosalie, Samantha and Jennifer!) to get entries. At the height of the competition, I resorted to asking complete strangers in Hawaii to enter. Key learning here? Ask people after they’ve had a few drinks. It makes a huge difference.
But I was up against a very worthy competitor. Toward the end, it was down to my coworker Pia and me for the grand prize. Pia happens to be the most gloriously competitive person I’ve ever met. She’s also pregnant, and she totally milked (pun NOT intended) her need for baby items to get entries for the contest.
Luckily, I had two secret weapons: A chance encounter on the plane with the hilarious TV producer Don Luciano and my wonderful family. Let’s start with Don. (Like how I think we are on first name basis?)
I met Don on the flight from Atlanta to LA. He told me about his fabulous projects, including the upcoming reality show on OWN, Beverly’s Full House, featuring the supermodel Beverly Johnson. I told him about my blog, and then quickly realized he would probably never read it, and took a nap.
When I woke up, Don had subscribed to the blog and followed me on Twitter. And, he agreed to help me win the contest. He got some of his famous friends – including Taylor Dayne (Twitter handle @taylor_dayne) and Beverly Johnson (Twitter handle @BeverlyJohnson1) – to tweet about the contest. Not only did that help secure some entries, but it was super fun to have famous folk tweet about my little old contest.
My other secret weapon, my family, literally brought a tear to my eye. My mom, stepdad and two sisters spent hours texting, calling and begging everyone they know to enter the contest. Their friends seriously stepped up too. Between my mom and my step dad, I got at least 175 entries!
After my sister and I spent hours (literally) on the beach inputting entries with our cell phones, I was ahead. And my parents had about 50 additional entries that we were going to save for the last minutes of the contest, to catch my unsuspecting opponent off guard.
Here’s where the fine print begins.
There was a little confusion over when the contest actually ended. Pia and I were under the assumption that the contest ended on different days, but we didn’t realize it. We were both right; we were both wrong. We just received conflicting information. Problem is, Pia thought the contest ended 24 hours before I did. So just like I was strategically saving entries for the last minute, so was she. Right before midnight (the day before I thought the contest ended), she entered a bunch of entries and took the lead. I thought I had another 24 hours to sweep in and win. Because of the confusion, the third place winner very generously gave up his winnings so that both Pia and I would win the grand prize money.
For the record, I still entered the entries I’d been saving for the next day and ultimately took the lead by about 45 entries. Not that I’m competitive, or anything. I apologize for all the fine print – but after all of your very generous help with this contest, I wanted to let you know how it turned out.
I absolutely could not have won without you. You are the best readers a girl could ever ask for. Thank you, thank you, thank you!
And the little detail of the prize money? Don’t think I forgot about that! I promised you I would spend it very irresponsibly and do something fun. And I did. Which I’ll tell you about next time.
Now, will you join my crusade to eradicate Margarita Dermatitis? I’m already training for the first annual 10K. Who’s in?
Copyright 2012. Simply Solo blog by Catherine Gryp. All Rights Reserved.
Simply Solo Spotlight: Men and Marriage
Happy Simply Solo Spotlight Tuesday! Today’s guest post is written by Midori, who lives in eastside Seattle and writes for Dating Advice from a Girl, as well as her fashion and beauty blog, Midorilei. This post might be a tough pill to take for any women out there in a long term relationship that doesn’t seem to be going anywhere, but I think that Midori has some good points. I’m interested to hear what you guys think in the comments!
Quick shameless plug: Do you have a story to tell? Advice to offer? Did you just have literally the worst date of your life and you must write about it? I’d love to have you as the next Simply Solo Spotlight! Contact me at: simplysoloblog@gmail.com.
Men and Marriage
You ever hear those stories about the girl who waits a decade for her boyfriend to propose, but instead of proposing, he breaks up with her and then ends up marrying the next chick he dates almost immediately?
I’m that next chick.
Before you start hating, I’d like to clarify that this whole messed up scenario has a happy ending for all those involved. I’d also like to garner your sympathy by telling you I was single for five years prior to meeting my now husband and have also gone through my share of heartbreak.
You see, I met my now husband during my freshman year of high school. We dated for 11 months, which as we all know, is like a decade by high school standards. Okay, not quite a decade, but a long time.
I went into the youth class at church and immediately my roommate and I spotted him. “Oh my goodness! Who is that hot guy over there?!” We giggled and scurried to our seats. My heart sank to the pit of my stomach when he sat down next to Esther, my friend, the cute girl with short curly platinum blonde hair who looked like Drew Barrymore back in the days when she flashed Letterman.
He’s taken. Bummer. Oh well. They make a cute couple.
As we all sat down in a U-shape, our youth leader had us play an innocent game of “telephone.” It starts at one end of the U with a Bible verse and ends at the other. Each person whispers the verse to the next person, and the last person stands up and says the verse out loud.
When it got to the last person, this hot guy stood up and looked very confused. “Esther’s feet smell like trash?”
Everyone started cracking up, and immediately Esther punched the hot guy next to her in the arm.
What a weird couple, I thought.
When I got back to the dorm after service, Esther stopped me in the hallway and said, “My brother wants to know if he can call you sometime at the dorm.”
Huh?! Omg! Two GREAT pieces of new information! They’re not a couple and he’s interested in me?!!!
I tried to stay composed. “Uh, that was your brother next to you? Yeah, he can call me.”
“Yeah, you couldn’t tell? He’s my twin!”
And so he called. Then he came over, introduced himself, and made me laugh when he told me a story that happened at the grocery store. I don’t remember what it was about, I just remember thinking this guy is hil-A-rious!
We were inseparable for 11 months. He told me he thought he was falling in love with me. I tried to imagine my Asian first name with his very American last name. It kind of made me squirm. And then my dad came to school and made me break up with him before summer break. He made me promise to stay broken up or I wouldn’t be allowed to return to school.
That was almost 15 years ago.
In the time that elapsed between high school and now, I’ve never forgotten about him. I’ve even had dreams about him. He was the one that got away. It took dating other guys to see that what we had was really special. I dated the guy who tried to hit on my friend, the guy with the temper who was still in love with his dead ex-girlfriend, the guy who didn’t think dating me was right because we were different races, the mama’s boy, and the friend turned make out buddy.
None of it was going anywhere.
He dated a girl for 10 years. She gave up an entire decade of her life, waiting, hoping, wanting to get married, but that day never came.
He said he didn’t want to move forward until he was sure, and he never felt sure. And so finally, they broke up, after she had given him all of her twenties.
Esther (our wonderful go-between) told him that I was on MySpace and that I was single.
He called me in January. I visited him in March. Moved in May. Got engaged on New Year’s Eve. Got married in July.
Dated in 1996. Married in 2010.
It was simple because it was meant to be.
The crazy thing is, both my now husband and his ex of 10 years got engaged to the next people they started dating almost immediately. And that’s why it’s a happy ending. Harrah!
But here is my advice to women:
Listen to these statistics:
- Most men propose after going out with a woman for 18 months.
- If at the end of 22 months, a man has not proposed, the chances that he will start to diminish.
- After 3.5 years, the chances diminish gradually. After that, it plunges. After 7 years, your chances are virtually zero.
Sometimes men won’t tell you they’re not that into you enough to marry you. They don’t even know they feel that way because they love you. All they know is they are waiting for that confirmation, and sometimes they won’t ever get that confirmation because you’re not the one.
But you ARE the one for some man out there, and the more time you waste with the guy who’s not sure, not ready to take the plunge, the more time you will spend in silent heartache. You are not an impatient women for wanting to be married. If you want to get married, you don’t have to be ashamed of that.
But you also don’t have to stick around. Two things will happen if you leave. He will realize he can’t live without you and will seriously start thinking about your future together OR he will forget about you and find the love of his life.
And that’s okay. Because it frees you up to find the love of YOUR life.
Remember there’s a reason why they don’t make a “Grooms” magazine. Weddings and marriages are predominantly female-centric dreams. So if someone’s going to have to call it quits because it’s not going anywhere, as the woman with a firm destination, and a biological clock, you need to be the one to call it quits … or you might be waiting a decade, and still no ring.
After my now husband and I started dating again, he told me, “I didn’t want to lead her on. I wasn’t trying to lead her on. I was just waiting for something. Some confirmation. And that thing never came. And now I know why. I was waiting to feel for her what I feel for you now.“
All the women men date, prior to the one they are going to marry, wonder what’s taking them so long.
Men don’t know what the confirmation feels like because until they meet the one, they won’t have the chance to feel it.
But when they get that confirmation, a man will know and will not hesitate to move forward. You won’t have to bring up the subject of marriage in fear. Guys who talk about why they married their wives say stuff like, “I just wanted to get her off the market ASAP!” or “I wanted the world to know she was mine!”
There is an aura of sweet possessiveness to it. He knows when he’s met the woman he sees as the mother of his children, the woman who will take on his name, the woman he can’t imagine not being by his side.
Ladies, don’t settle for him just because he’s all you’ve ever known, just because you’ve been with him soooo long. You deserve your dream man. And the one thing I know he will possess is this:
He will be CRAZY about you, and he will be rushing you to the altar.
Copyright 2012. Simply Solo blog by Catherine Gryp. All Rights Reserved.
Simply Solo Spotlight: When a Door Closing Brings Unexpected Joy
Today’s guest post is written by Amy of Adventures in Babysitting…Men. I love Amy’s blog – she’s beautifully honest about her search for love and her writing is very engaging. I’m really excited to have her as our Simply Solo Spotlight.
Quick shameless plug: Do you have a story to tell? Advice to offer? Did you just have literally the worst date of your life and you must write about it? I’d love to have you as the next Simply Solo Spotlight! Contact me at: simplysoloblog@gmail.com.
When a Door Closing Brings Unexpected Joy
It’s a new year. A time when everyone seems to be reflecting on the past year and making resolutions for the new one. Well, I’m not going to do that here. I am going to visit the past, but a not-so-recent past. A past from more than eight years ago. This is going to be a sorta throwback to my younger, more carefree days.
Earlier today, I saw the phrase “one door closes and another one opens.” I don’t know exactly why, but it made me remember a trip to London in September 2003 with my friend, Amy. We were two single Amy’s letting loose in London for a little holiday.
Nearly a year prior, after drinking copiously with Amy and another friend back home in New York City, I met a very good-looking, charming British man at the Peninsula Hotel bar. We spent a few hours together that night that ended up back at his hotel (I know, scandalous!). I found out that my cute Brit was an ex-MI 5 agent. Oh my gawd – my own James Bond! In fact, let’s call him that for this story. We only had this one drunken night together, but always tried to keep in touch. Or rather, I tried to keep in touch. I would periodically email him and he’d tell me “he might be in New York for business in a few months.” Nothing ever really materialized, though.
Now let’s go back to the London trip. Like I said, I tried to maintain contact with Bond and when the trip was booked, I shot him an email telling him that I would be in London and we should get together. He responded that he’d love to, which only fueled dreams of walking along the River Thames hand-in-hand with my handsome spy and living happily ever after in Kensington Palace. Hey, if I’m going to dream, I might as well dream BIG.
Well, like any of my great fantasies, this was to just remain that. A mere fantasy. It happened that Bond was in Washington, D.C. on business and Hurricane Jeanne would keep him from flying back to London to see moi. A door closes.
After receiving the disappointing text message that he would not be able to fly home, I asked him for suggestions on where Amy and I should go out. He mentioned SoHo and the two of us were off on our own adventure, sans Bond. One lovely dinner and a few ales at a pub later, we were beat as we had only arrived that morning on the red-eye from NY.
When the pub closed, we opted to return to our hotel and hopped on the green line of the Underground. We found seats and noticed that there were three young men sitting across from us. They were deeply engrossed in reading and commenting on the Dear Deirdre column of a local paper. Like a Dear Abby, but the snarky British version. Of course, we needed to eavesdrop on these cute boys and laugh at the appropriate times. Our sideways participation in their conversation earned their attention and we struck up a conversation. A door opens.
With just a little convincing, they persuaded us to join them to go to some dance club. We had a great time and possibly a little, okay a lot, of kissing may have taken place.
A Hollywood style kiss in London. Source: My Camera
Amy hit it off with the cute Irish boy. I hit it off with the cute, but younger, Brit, whom I’ll call by his nickname, Millsie. The other boy, a Scot, was sadly the odd man out, but a great sport and lots of fun nevertheless. At the end of the night, I exchanged contact information with Millsie and we swore we’d keep in touch (he was heading out of town for a long weekend and would not get back until after Amy and I left).
Much to my surprise, Millsie and I kept in touch. Every day. We talked, emailed, instant messaged, even video chatted (before Skype). We had a great long-distance pseudo-relationship that lasted for about 10 months with me visiting him in London and him visiting me in New York and chatting every day in between. Ultimately, the distance was too much. We ended things and after a few months of silence, resumed talking and began a friendship, albeit a flirty friendship. He moved to Australia, and in late 2005 on my three week tour of the country, I was able to hang out with him briefly in Sydney and Melbourne. But he had a new girlfriend and that marked the end of our friendship.
I don’t often think about that relationship, after all, it was a long time ago. But certain things will remind me of it and make me smile, like the phase “one door closes and another door opens.” If Bond hadn’t been stuck in D.C., I probably would have never met Millsie and a two-year friendship/relationship would have never occurred. I wish I could have still maintained a friendship with Millsie, but understand the awkwardness as he moved forward with his new romantic relationship. He had to close the door on ours to open the door to the new one. I harbor no ill feelings toward him closing our door, and I’ve luckily had many doors open and close and open again in the years since.
Life is a continuous cycle of doors opening and shutting, chapters starting and ending, opportunities taken and missed. We need to remember that if a door shuts, if a chapter ends, if an opportunity is missed, not to get too sad and discouraged…for there is another one waiting around the corner.
What door closing for you or opportunity missed led to something big and/or better?
Copyright 2012. Simply Solo blog by Catherine Gryp. All Rights Reserved.
Today’s Simply Solo Spotlight is written by Eric J. Leech, author of love, lust and relationships for DatingWebsites.org. I hope that learning about these common mistakes can help a few of you out there embarking on new relationships.
Speaking of embarking … yesterday, I embarked on my trip to Hawaii! (Part of the reason this guest post is a day late.) Don’t worry; I have some great guest posts lined up while I’m gone. I’m also hoping to give you guys an update on my trip at some point. On my Hawaii to do list: drink a really girly drink while lying on the beach, swim under a waterfall, eat shaved ice, see the turtles, go snorkeling, eat pineapple ice cream from the Dole Pineapple Plantation, visit Pearl Harbor, go to a luau, celebrate my 27th birthday and not kill bond with my family. Not necessarily in that order.
Quick shameless plug: Do you have a story to tell? Advice to offer? Did you just have literally the worst date of your life and you must write about it? I’d love to have you as the next Simply Solo Spotlight! Contact me at: simplysoloblog@gmail.com.
Seven Biggest Mistakes When Entering a New Relationship
When you pack up our baggage and board a new relationship, you might be hauling along a number of stereotypes, expectations and attitudes. While it is good to learn from past mistakes and successes, it is bad to allow these experiences to influence how you see yourself and your dating partner. You should start each day on a clean slate, and not allow holes in your confidence to spring leaks in the trust and honesty necessary to foster a healthy relationship. These are the seven biggest mistakes that couples make when entering into a new partnership. We’re getting them out of the way, today, so that you’ll think twice about bringing them to the table the next time you’re in the midst of a budding romance.
1. “You’re Not Good Enough”
If you find yourself in new relationships a lot, there are two possible explanations for this. First, you may be choosing the wrong people time and again. Second, you may be choosing right, but have an unrealistic list of expectations for them to satisfy. Whether you are a product of a divorce, or just have a lot of bad experiences under your belt, a lot of people overcompensate by building up the perfect mate in their mind, and then holding out for them. These are both tactics to avoiding intimacy. They work by allowing you to make yourself unavailable to anyone who fails to meet your standards, which you’ve practically guaranteed, by either choosing the wrong person, or making your criterion beyond anyone’s reach.
2. “I’ll Do Whatever It Takes”
You may think you’re setting the stage for success in your new relationship by giving your partner whatever they want. However, what you are really doing is losing respect, consideration and the opportunity to get your own needs met. It is good to be flexible when giving to your partner, but make sure they are giving you something in return.
3. “Take Me Now!”
Photo courtesy of Mandee Carter
Girls often feel pressure in new relationships to have sex early. Guys will say things like, “I need to see how we communicate in bed before I’ll know if I want to invest more time in this relationship.” The truth is, any guy who is worth your time will also be willing to wait until you’re ready to be intimate. Studies suggest that the men who wait for sex are the ones who will remain invested in your relationship. So don’t fall for that old ploy. If he’s willing to walk because you’re not giving into him, he’ll probably be walking soon anyway, so you might as well get rid of him sooner than later.
4. “You’re Amazing!”
Disillusionment is one of the biggest reasons people find themselves in abusive relationships. When you enter a new relationship, your brain is floating in a bath of Ocytocin, which is the chemical in the brain responsible for heroine-like euphoria, and the feeling of being madly in love. The problem is, these feelings go along with any relationship that offers some chemistry. However, just because your hormones are jiving, doesn’t mean your goals and intentions are too. Resist the Ocytocin boat by grounding all your new relationships in the realization that it takes several weeks to know somebody well. Don’t put them on a pedestal until they are deserving of it.
5. “I’m a Failure”
Failure in a relationship should never be considered a flaw of yours. We all make mistakes. It is expected. The biggest error you probably make in your relationships, is considering failure to be the beginning to every end. As long as you learn from your mistakes, and actively seek solutions to your problems, disagreements can grow into new beginnings. With enough effort, all couples stand a pretty good chance of getting things right eventually.
6. “Love Me … Love Me Not”
If you get home from a date and rack your brain to decide how much they really liked you, or what you think they want out of a relationship, you’re already guilty of this mistake. Don’t read too much into any first couple of dates. Don’t cling to your date’s every word, trying to decode what they are really trying to say. Don’t obsess about every hand or facial gesture, and don’t look for abysmal signs of what the future holds if you continue to see this person. The simple truth is, you can’t force a relationship to reveal its potential. Just enjoy the company, and allow any potential to play itself out naturally.
7. “Hurry Up, Before You Decide You Don’t Like Me Anymore”
The final common mistake it to rush a relationship out of the fear that the other person will become disinterested the more they get to know you. The idea is to get them caught up in a steady relationship, so that they’ll feel obligated to ride it out. Never rush into any relationship, as this is when serious red flags are often overlooked.
Have you or someone you know made one of these seven big mistakes? If so, share it with us. Are there any mistakes you’d add to this list?
Copyright 2012. Simply Solo blog by Catherine Gryp. All Rights Reserved.
