My Excuse for when he doesn't call

[Tara Merry is what I call my blogging partner in crime. She's put an APB out on Happily Ever After. She ain't the first or the last! Without further ado her guest post...]

I move around a lot. I want to experience absolutely everything I can before I find myself washing cloth diapers three times a day and discussing my child's bowel movements in inappropriate detail - That's what mothers do right? Right? I'm a little confused, everything I know about parenthood I learnt from romantic comedies.

About three months before I moved to the USA I met an amazing guy. He was cute, funny and more importantly a DJ. Which was a big step for me, considering most of the guys I knew worked entry level administration jobs and still lived with their parents.The best part, however, was that he was a massive fan of Sex and the City! 
As a single romance blogger I love Sex and City. Its kind of a prerequisite. A little known fact is that, as a romance blogger if you don't like Sex and the City you will be shunned by the whole dating world, finding yourself standing on street corners and trading food for relationship advice.

At first I was perplexed, every other straight guy I have spoken to has used the words 'disgusting' or 'horrible' and rolled his eyes when talking about my favorite show. I was a little concerned that I was on a date with a gay guy. AGAIN. I was trying to make a stand, no more unrequited crushes on completely unobtainable men, e.g. Neil Patrick Harris *sigh*. So I was pretty excited when I met up with my DJ and he showed his interest by lifting his arms for a hug and pressing his crotch deep into my hips for a lingering and inappropriate embrace.

We had an amazing date! Absolutely amazing. We were a perfect match; together we were funnier, smarter and just better. I deserved a medal. I didn't think it was possible, but I had achieved the unachievable... It was the perfect first date.

Then he didn't call.

It's not like I'm this crazy confident dater. I can over analyze with the best of them. I went through our date with a fine tooth comb. Constantly wondering what had happened, did I say something inappropriate? Did he confuse my feelings for Neil Patrick Harris as homophobia rather than raw, unreleased lust? No, I finally concluded. He must be dead.

Then, after spending about a month of chastising my dating technique, I received a text message:
'Hey, gawjus girl, how are you? Eugh... No wonder things didn't work out if even auto-correct can't understand his compliments.

We chatted for a while until he finally admitted that, yes, we did have an amazing date. It turned out that that was his problem. He told me he really liked me, but when I let slip that I was moving away he made the decision to protect his heart and cut me from his life - In case you were wondering, 'protect his heart' were his words not mine. So I was single. Again. At least now I have a go-to excuse prepared for the next time my 'perfect date' doesn't call.

Thanks

Tara 

About Tara Merry:  I am a self described blogger and bad decision maker. Born in New Zealand, a country commonly referred to as 'next to Australia' I am a keen traveler. My mission is to kiss as many frogs as possible before midnight strikes and I turn back into a pumpkin - I hope that I can make you smile along the way.  

Connect with her via her Blog, Twitter or email at: taramerryblog@gmail.com

Great Expectations

It happens to all of us. Please, tell me I'm not the only one who has suffered from unrealistic expectation-itis. See that's just it, I've got the itis. In my defense, because aren't those always good to have; it hit a few hours ago kind of like how it felt when I took a nasty fall on the stairs. I'm a klutz. I lost my footing and down I went. It hurt in a way that profanity can't do justice. There were tears & eventually some bruising. That's the best way I know to describe what I'm feeling.

I'm a really good feeler. And when it’s the butterflies in your stomach, wind in your hair & your favorite song on the radio kinda good, I eat that shit up. Caution gets tossed aside except this time around I'm hyper aware of myself. I don't know if this is a blessing or a curse, maybe its equal parts both. On one hand it's really empowering. It's like, yeah I said that and at 7:02pm when I sent that text message I meant it. Come 8:20pm when I look back at it, I still mean it but that nagging feeling kicks in. The I have to fix this, I have to make this right thing. But when it comes to another person it's not that simple. We control what we say & we know how we meant it but we have no control over how someone takes it & feels it.

When it comes to Big Fun he like men of my past is real good at not responding to me. I don't get it. No, I kinda do. When it comes to other people in my life I sometimes use the same approach. There’s a difference in taking time to respond and not responding. It is a familiar type of ache. Kind of like ahhh, we meet again. The funny thing that all the men of my past have in common is that at first glance there were no sparks; I was just adding another one to the roster, right? I'm not a player I just crush a lot. Then out of nowhere I kind like this person. That's where I'm at now. Yep, this is what I do. I'd say this is what I'm good at but clearly the phrase Houston, we have a problem is an understatement. At least that's how it feels.

Dating is a series of mistakes, fuck ups & even a few walk of shames if you do it right. If that's where we're setting the bar then by all means I'm totally kicking ass and taking names. Wait. Wait, for it. I suck at this. Except, if I'm gonna down a crying, it's not me it's him mess then damn it I'm going to learn something from it. Having feelings is a good thing. Letting them control you is not. It’s okay to ask for what you want. Its okay for the person you’re asking not to answer, because they just gave you the answer. Not the one I wanted. The one I needed.

So…who wants to place a bet on what I'm going to do next? Any takers...

XO, Miss BB

Love Solo Style

It's Valentines Day. As a doomed single bitch isn't it my duty to write? Precisely. So lets get the pleasantries out the way: it's not the thought that counts. I want the gift. I know, bad girl. But look at it this way, four "Happy Valentine's Day" text messages later from men who presumably want to bed me (or have in one instance), you can shove your well wishing where the sun doesn't shine. Please take this as a Public Service Announcement. You're welcome. 

Now, let's pretend for a moment that I didn't cry like a punk yesterday. Oh, no wait I did. It's not because I won't be getting a floral arrangement, edible arrangement or heart shaped pizza.  I guess you could say I wanted something. A feeling. That's not what I got. Actually I felt every emotion but the one I thought I was looking for. Let the record reflect I'm still sorting my way through this thing called like, that's right if I can't even properly like someone how in the hell am I going to find love. We can dive into this a little deeper in the not so distant future but for now lets stay on topic. Yeah, lets do that. 

See I had a plan. A girl with a plan is dangerous. A girl with a plan B is not be fucked with. I was going to go on a man detox, actually it was more like a dick detox. But in typical bend the rule behavior I added an asterisk & said no new men and absolutely no new "you know what's." Meaning the few I had come to hang out with regularly in 2012 I could keep carrying on with. Win-win, right? Eh.

I was asked today, is it Thursday or is it Valentine's Day. With zero hesitation I said its Valentine's Day! That has to be a good sign, right? Right! I don't think being single on this particular day of the year is worse than any other. This coming from a girl who spent quite a few NYE's watching my friends smooch at the strike of midnight. I'll live. I bought myself a bottle of wine & bag of gummy bears. Oh, throw in a chocolate iced donut and you got the makings of a happy single broad.

Eat your heart out Cupid!

XO, Miss BB

The Beginning...

I've gone back and forth literally driving myself crazy trying to figure out how to start this. Then it hit me, the beginning. Back when you don't know you're setting the foundation for future mistakes. Innocent recklessness acts as your compass. I have a pattern of behavior that started long ago, come with me down memory lane...

I was in elementary school, fifth grade & his name was Raymond. I can remember him chasing me. Hold up, me running, like for fun? This can't be true. But it is. Fifth grade was a long time ago but those small moments were setting the stage for what would become bigger moments. Fast forward three years and as a middle schooler I had my first go at this thing called "boyfriend/girlfriend." He played basketball, I was a cheerleader, isn't this the stuff of love stories. He was my first kiss and that was the demise of us. Ewww, it was gross. Since I like you I spare the deets. Just yuck! I don't know what went wrong but it was all sorts of wrong. I bounced back like the champ I am and into the arms of his best friend. This is the first friendship I would complicate. I can remember it so vividly, we were standing, facing each other, there was all this nervousness and laughter. I had butterflies in my stomach and I was terrified. Not without good reason either. I closed my eyes and that was that. It was everything it was supposed to be. And since I'm sharing he would become the first boy to respectively visit first & second base.

High school was basically an experience I just got through. I wasn't popular. I wasn't picked on. I was just there. The "love" highlight of all that can basically be summed up into a four year crush. Yeah, that's it. No boyfriend. No dirty making out. None of what I wanted. I've never felt really pretty. Or even really smart. I've always just been the sweet quiet one. I guess when it came down to it I didn't think I was good enough, not for him.

My first big girl experience came in the form of band camp. On one of the last days we had dance and I was sitting there observing and itching; I got poison oak. Yep, see I've also got kick ass luck. The only person out of entire band to get it. But back to the dance. This guy, this very nice guy took my hand and danced with me. That's me, the girl looking at everyone with a guy; not the girl with a guy.

You might surprised by this but I did have an escapade with an older boy. He was nineteen. He like most nineteen year old boys wanted to have sex. Me, not so much. The good news is, this is not where I bid farewell to my virginity. He dumped me. Not before being the first to visit third base though. It just wasn't enough to solidify a LTR. Buh-bye. Speaking of virginity, I did lose it to a complete and utter nut job. Should I mention he was well endowed? I feel like that's important to say. Validation of my first bad decision. It was the [only] reason I went back for more. I know. Shame on me. This little nugget of up jacked-upness taught me that sex isn't this romantic thing involving candles and roses and all that other shit that "they" [PS-who the hell are they?] tell us it's supposed to be. Romance, what's that? For some of us, its a guy, who's an asshole, who's good in bed, who we know is no good for us but just can't seem to cut ourselves off from. The flip side to this is that one I should have lost it to, I didn't. He was sweet. But wait he also kissed my friend in front of me. Yeah. Uh-huh. This one time though he asked me out on a date on my TI-89, that's a fancy calculator. In the moment it was everything. I did eventually forgive him too. Yet another pattern of mine. Quick to forgive. Oh, I end up bedding men that are no good for me.

So that just about it covers it &  here I am. Still making mistakes, from mistakes,  I should of learned from a few mistakes ago.

XO, Miss BB