Part IV: Is It Better To Have Loved And Lost Than To Never Have Loved At All?

I had wished Marks death.

Not literally “I want Mark to die. Die Mark DIE!!!”, but there was one day when I was 19 years old and just started my very first acting class, when I was practicing my acting in the bathroom mirror. I was trying to make myself cry. I thought about Mark ever dying and how I would feel. I stood in front of the mirror, acted out a hypothetical moment of someone telling me such horrible news, and cried. I knew what I was doing was totally wrong, but, “SCORE!!!”  I was elated that I found a way to cry instantly if I ever needed to.

How ridiculous is that? THAT is what I beat myself up for, for 10 years. For being a dumb kid crying in front of a mirror and for hanging up on his drunk ass a few years later? 

It took me a few weeks to recover from my discovery that my therapist, Dr. Simon, was right. I was floored and sickened that I put my life on hold to beat myself up for THAT LONG over something so excusable. 

While waiting for Mark to be found and then grieving over his death, I gained weight, became addicted to Tylenol PM, drank a bottle of wine every night and passively tried to kill myself few times. I performed my Senior Cabaret, opened Hair at Cal State Fullerton, visited my brother in New York, performed Hair in Chicago that summer and graduated from college a semester late. In the midst of the Mark mayhem, I ignored all of my mail. Letter after letter urging me to file my papers with the admissions office in order to graduate in 1996 piled up on my bedroom floor.  By the time I tried to register for my diploma, it was too late. I had missed the deadline and was allowed to “walk” but my official graduation date was pushed to 1997. What a blow. I had worked so hard for four years to graduate on time, and it slipped right through my fingers. Needless to say, “walking” was not the highlight of my college career. I felt like a fraud on graduation day, like I didn’t belong with all of my best friends and classmates who actually opened their mail. 

I was furious that I had missed my graduation deadline and I had no one to blame but myself. I just wanted to be done with school and not have to walk down those theatre department hallways where I fell in love with Mark. I never wanted to step foot again on that Performing Arts lawn where he and I used to run into each other’s arms. Instead, I was forced to return to school and take a silly ballet class to stay a “student” and finish out an extra semester due to my lack of responsibility.

Yes, it was a terrible time in my life. Not only did Mark die, but all tons of shit hit the fan to make matters worse.

It was the night of our first preview (with an audience) for Hair and I had just buried Mark earlier that day. I showed up to the dressing rooms in my light pink funeral dress (hell no to black!) with puffy eyes and carrying a large tray of uneaten sandwiches from the reception. Again, I was surrounded with love and support from my friends, which was so wonderful yet something very strange and damaging happened.

I was in the dressing room when the Stage Manager announced:

10 minutes to places! Theresa, Alan wants to talk to you…

Alan was a Grad Student and one of the cast members of Hair. He and I did the “preshow” together which was this dark scene added to the top of the show by our nutty director who thought it’d be cool to start off Hair with an improvised scene that took place in a current day underground night club where the owner (Alan) and the waitress (Me) get into a huge screaming argument which then kicks everyone back to the 1960s and then Hair, the musical, begins.

I stepped out of the dressing room and had a chat with Allen in the hallway.

Theresa, I know this is a very sad time in your life, and maybe this isn’t the best time to tell you this but… (Shuffling his feet)… I’m in love with you. You are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever known Theresa, and I just can’t keep it in any longer. Especially now, seeing you in such pain, I just need to tell you that I am in love with you. Maybe when things calm down, you can give me a chance? Mark was a lucky guy, but I’m here now with my heart in my hands...

I stood there shocked, flattered, caught off guard, confused, kind of offended but cautious of his feelings and not at all interested in Alan. He was weird and I always got the creeps from him.

Oh wow. uh... I don’t know what to say…

You don’t have to say anything. I just couldn’t hold it in any longer.

No, I appreciate it, but you do realize I just buried Mark today, right? Like, 3 hours ago?

I do know, I’m sorry, it’s bad timing.

I’m very flattered. Thank you for being so honest with me. I’ll be honest with you too – I’m not interested in you like that. Sorry… I just can’t feel anything for anyone right now, and I never felt that way for you in the past, so I’m pretty sure I won’t feel that way for you in the future. But thank you for your warmth and honesty and I’m sorry I cannot return the affection.
 

He was cool with it. We parted ways.

A few minutes later, Alan and I were on stage, in our preshow scene in front of an audience of 500 people. 

This preshow scene always made me nervous. I had to play a tough cocktail waitress who gets into a screaming match with her manager (Alan) and I just never could figure out how to play that type of role. I was very young and inexperienced. I was always cast as the princess or the dumb cute girl, and I just had the hardest time mustering up a hard-edged underground drug addict waitress character, especially during the saddest time in my life! I had no energy. This worried Alan, the older grad student who had figured out his “craft” a long time ago. He was always trying to coach me into finding my anger to give the scene the weight it needed, and I just couldn’t deliver. On top of that, we had to IMPROVISE the scene. There was no script! I just had to whip up some dialogue out of thin air and create some kind of nasty screeching fight. Improv scared me. Nothing about this scene tickled me. I dreaded it.

So, there I was, hours after I just buried Mark, standing on stage in front of a full house, scared out of my mind and trying to act with grad student Allen who just professed his love to me. Our little improv scene ensued and he escalated it into a fight, I tried to “fight” back because that’s what the scene called for, we got into a lukewarm yelling match and then he turned to me with fury and screamed in my face WELL AT LEAST I'M NOT FLOATING IN SOME FUCKING RIVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I could not believe what just happened to me. Was he pissed off at me for not loving him back? 

I lost my shit. 

That fight scene that I was so scared of ended up being violent and terrifying. (just want Alan wanted)

I lost it so badly that a few hippies from the wings had to carry me off stage. I was kicking, screaming, sobbing, using every curse word I could think of, I was practically vomiting on my own tears I was so angry. He was yelling back all sorts of hurtful things about dying in a lake, floating in a river, drowning, being "fucking dead", it was terrible and it all happened in front of 500 paying spectators.

My friends had to calm me down back stage. I thought I was going to have a heart attack.

What just happened to me?

My friends told me what happened: Alan made that whole story up about his love for me. It was his prep work for our preshow scene. He told me he loved me in the hallway, then acted hurt on stage and used my vulnerability about Mark to make the scene come alive. He figured out a way to pull my anger out of me for the sake of the scene. 

Faculty came down hard on Alan. He was pulled from the show. He was allowed to stay at Cal State Fullerton and earn his MFA, but he was not allowed to do any shows after that. 

He apologized. I said, Thanks for the apology, but Fuck You.

These bits of shrapnel: not graduating on time, the passive suicide attempts, demented grad student Alan, Mark's body not being in one piece, etc... these were easier to get over when compared to the years it took to understand the depth of my pain, but here I am, on the other side, and I have learned so much about myself and the beautiful journey of life...

Stay tuned for the final installment, where I get to talk about all the happy stuff!

Part III: Is It Better To Have Loved And Lost Than To Never Have Loved At All?

Time moved slowly as we waited for Mark to be found. It took about 10 days for Search and Rescue to find him. Funny thing is, his body was discovered in the very spot the where accident occurred. His best friend Jerry accompanied the rescue team in the helicopter, they flew over the lake and Jerry pointed to where he thought they were that night. A diver jumped out, swam to the bottom and found Mark’s body – or pieces of.

I was curious as to why it was a closed casket funeral and asked Mark’s Mother. 

What’s he wearing in there? I was picturing him in a blue suit with his sweet curly blond hair, hands folded, shiny black shoes.

I’ll never forget her exact words.

Oh honey, since you asked, I’m going to tell you the truth…he’s not wearing any clothes. He wasn’t found in one piece, so we gathered him up and wrapped him in a shroud.

I’ll never forget the horror and disappointment I felt. I guess she needed to get that off of her chest, but I really wish she hadn’t told me that.

Later I found out that Mark wasn’t in one piece because the on-coming boat that had Mark’s fate sealed in his future had struck Mark smack dab in the middle of his chest, killed him instantly and launched him into the water. At least he didn’t die in a panic, drowning and in pain. But wow, the thought of his body not being in one piece really disturbed me. It still does. At the time I was thinking, “What do you mean he’s not in one piece? Is he missing a thumb or an entire ARM? Is his head in there? Are all his toes still attached to his feet? What?”  I couldn’t bear to ask though. Best to just let it go. 

I spoke the eulogy. I proclaimed my love for Mark and how I had planned on marrying him and having his children, which is odd since we were broken up and the last time I spoke to him I was a complete bitch. I made myself into a victim who lost her one and only true love, which I knew deep down wasn’t completely true. Absolutely did I lose one of my soul mates and positively was I torn to pieces over his death, but I was also beefing up my pain to torture myself for being mean to him a few weeks prior. Of course, I didn’t know I was doing that at the time. I discovered all this in therapy 10 years later, and what a painful revelation that was to finally figure out that I had punished myself for so long. 

I subconsciously blamed myself for his death. Maybe if I wasn’t so cruel to him on the phone that night, he would have stayed in town to win me back. 

Mark's sister, Melanie, told me that they had met up for lunch before he left town. He explained to Melaine that he was embarrassed for drunk dialing me late that night, but  he still loved me and knew I was the one for him.  He wanted to marry me. She advised him to tell me all of this when he returns from Lake Havasu.  He agreed to that.

It’s a nice feeling knowing that he died loving me and that maybe I was on his mind if he had any time to reflect before he passed on, but I was left with unsettled, remorseful feelings which I subconsciously covered up by spending the next 10 years never letting myself fall for another man. I decided early on that I’ll most likely never get married and have children. I sabotaged every relationship and chose to date guys who were clearly not right for me. I searched and searched for a Mark replacement. Someone I could have that romantic, sweeping, sugary, incredibly unrealistic puppy love with and every time I thought I found it, it would fizz out very quickly and I’d end up in a heaping crying mess eating a pint of ice cream.  

I was in therapy for four years when I lived in New York. It took my therapist a long long time to convince me that I had been punishing myself.   

Punishing myself? For what??

 

You feel guilty that he died. It’s not your fault Theresa.

That’s insane, Dr. Simon. I know I didn’t kill Mark. Why would I think it’s my fault?

 

There were a few times that I tried to fire Dr. Simon. It pissed me off that he would not let this issue go. Luckily, he did not let me run away. He was holding the key to the truth and he was waiting for me to open that door.

This was the hardest thing I ever had to face, no wonder it took me so long to finally open my eyes and accept the truth: I put myself through hell, I never let myself move on,  the bottom line of my existence was sadness for nearly ten years. My love life was always in turmoil, I was pursing an acting career that repeatedly broke my heart, I was 15 pounds overweight, my insecurities were so terrible that I wouldn’t even let myself wear certain shoes or go to certain bars because I thought I wasn’t “cool” enough. I was a mess and this is why….

Stay tuned for Part IV...

Part II: Is It Better To Have Loved And Lost Than To Never Have Loved At All?

Lake Havasu

Today is November 22, Mark's Birthday. He would have been 42.

It was early April and I was knee deep in preparations for my Senior Cabaret at Cal State Fullerton. I had just mastered my new favorite song that I would be adding to my set list, "Watching the Big Parade Go By" and couldn't wait to sing it for someone.

I raced home, burst through my parent's front door with cassette tape in hand, snapped it into our family stereo, and demanded their attention as I serenaded them with my high belting excitement...

 I couldn't help but feel self-conscious. I got the feeling that they didn't want to hear my song.
Something was off... something didn't feel right...

An awkward silence took over the room. My Mother held up the news article and gently told me: Mark was in a terrible boat accident at Lake Havasu a few days ago. He’s missing.

The next thing I knew, I was in a ball with my arms wrapped around my knees, hysterically crying. I was shaken by the sounds that were coming out of me. I was a howling wolf.
I knew he was gone.

I was in final rehearsals for Hair.
When I returned to the theater, all 40 cast mates, crew and creative team surrounded me with the most unbelievable amount of love and support. Mark was a Theatre student as well, so a good majority of students and faculty had their own stake in the sadness and worry.

I noticed that the Dean of our department, Sally Mitchell, had taped memos on the hallway walls, notifying any passerby that Mark Chotiner, a student here in the Theatre Department, has died.
My reaction: Pure anger. He’s not dead. He’s MISSSING.

I knocked on her door, she invited me in with sympathetic eyes that I just wanted to rip out of their sockets and shove down her throat.
Trying to keep it together, but ready to explode: Sally, with all due respect, I’m upset that you taped up those notes saying that Mark is dead. Regardless if he’s dead or alive, why on earth would you do that? He is missing, not DEAD. Please have some respect for Mark, and myself, and take down those notices right now. RIGHT NOW???
She apologized and assured me that they’d be thrown out.
Have some class, Sally.

I was a mess. Mark, my ex-boyfriend, my first love, the guy I bitched at just a week ago, was missing, and I knew in my heart that he had died. I couldn’t sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I was shaken awake by the image of his hair floating in the water as his body descends to the bottom of the river.

Spring Break is over. Lake Havasu is shut down while Search and Rescue flies overhead and dives into the waters, looking for Mayor of La Mirada, Bob Chotiner’s son, Mark Chotiner, who was last seen on the lake a few days ago, a news reporter says on the nightly news as a photo of Mark appears in the top left corner of the screen. Half of my face was in that photo. It was a picture of Mark and me hugging.

It all felt so unreal, like I was in a movie. This cannot be happening to me. My photo is on TV and Mark is the topic of the evening news and I think I just lost my soul mate and I don’t know how I am going to live through this, I want to die too.  

The conversation I had with Dean Sally about the death notices didn’t seem to be a priority to her since she made no effort to abide by my wishes, which was a mistake I am sure she regretted when I startled her by bursting thru her fancy office doors, fists full of crumpled up notices, screaming, “TAKE THESE FUCKING NOTES DOWN NOW, SALLY! DO YOU NOT HAVE ANY FUCKING RESPECT FOR HIM? WHO THE FUCK DO YOU THINK YOU ARE? HE’S MISSING, NOT DEAD!” I may have felt like a wolf when I was crying, but I was a bear when I yelled.

Stay tuned for Part III …

Is it better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all?

My first love was Mark David Chotiner.

I was 19 years old when I found my lips intertwined with his on the night we met. 

First year of college.

Cal State Fullerton. 

I was at my brother’s fraternity, the Phi Sig house, being dumped by Jon, a guy I dated for 2 months. After we had agreed to remain friends, which surprisingly came true, I met my friend Nikki on the sidewalk...

What happened?

He dumped me.

Are you ok?

Yeah. I guess.

What do you want to do now?

Hum….I looked over at the Lambda Chi house… lets go over there, I heard those guys were cool!

Nikki and I walked over and invited ourselves in.  Mark was the first person I met. God he was gorgeous. He looked like Brad Pitt.

After a few beers, Mark said to me…

You want to see my turtle?

We headed up to his room and he showed me his fish tank with the water turtle. As the night progressed and Lucky Lagers were pounded (that eventually became our favorite beer because of the silly riddles on the inside of the caps), I found myself totally making out with this hot guy with cute surfer hair and super yummy lips who’s name was MARK! He was such a good kisser. It was all pretty innocent.

Later that night, my best friend Steph picked me up. As I climbed into Steph's car, Mark stood there shirtless with the garage door open, one arm up holding onto the edge of the door. His surfer body, six pack abs and loose fitting jeans made Steph and I melt! She wrote something on a napkin, handed it to him and then we drove away.

If you want to have a good time, call my friend Theresa. She thinks you’re cute. 714-637-….

Seven painstaking days went buy until he called. This was before the days of texting, so I had to actually wait for my land line to ring.

What started out as a random rebound make-out session at the Lambda Chi house turned into a beautiful romance that changed my life forever. I guess that’s what happens when cupid’s arrow hits the bull's eye.

We were both students in the Theatre Department. I was majoring in Musical Theatre and he was Set Design. We were that stereotypical, ridiculously cute/nasuauting couple on campus who could not keep their hands off of each other.  People hated and loved us for our sugary, sickening public displays of affection.  Needless to say, we were in love and the entire Theatre Department knew it.

Almost every day after our morning classes, we would meet on the Performing Arts lawn at Cal State Fullterton, but it wasn’t just any old meeting. I’d come running out of the PA building, while he was barreling out of the Arts building across the way, and we’d run to each other with open arms screaming “Baber!!!!!” He’d sweep me off my feet and twirl me around and shower me with kisses. This happened pretty much every day for about a year. I was 19, he was 24, we were both acting like children and it was wonderful.

Not too many people can say that they have experienced that kind of love. I'm glad I did at that young age. I'm not the same person anymore and if someone wanted to act like that with me now, I'd probably tell them to grow up.

Mark was my first real boyfriend and my first love.

I am one of the lucky ones who get to cherish the night I lost my virginity.

The nuns in Catholic School tried to intimidate us into believing that it's a terrible sin to have sex before marriage, but I wasn't convinced. The 12 year old Theresa said to herself, "Nah, I'm going to wait till I'm in love and I think God will be fine with that."
I truly did wait and it was worth it.

It was March 24^th, 1993 at lifeguard station 19 in Huntington Beach. We built a bon fire, made s’mores, drank our Lucky Lager and played Black Crows on our portable stereo, snuggled under the blankets and made love. He actually cried.

Mark and I had so much fun together. Camping in Mexico, Havasu, and Big Sur; going to museums and theatre; parties and hanging out on campus; holidays and birthdays; day dreaming of our wedding and naming our future children (Ashton and Clayton. Geeze we were such hippies!!)

After he graduated from college, he moved to Los Angeles and started pursing set building for commercials. I was still a student juggling 20 units, shows and a job.

I was furious when Mark broke up with me. He wept like a baby and told me that I’m too busy for him and gave me the ridiculous “If you love someone, set them free” speech. My argument was that he needed to suck it up and let me be busy for a while and that I’m not asking to be set free. I reminded him that this is the same reason why he broke up with me last time and that he needs to let me have some personal space to do the things I am passionate about, much like how I’ve given him his personal time to do his hobbies. Regardless, he broke up with me, again, and I walked away completely pissed off.  I loved him, but we had some serious problems: his infidelity, possessiveness and jealousy, and my independence, stubbornness and free spirited life.
Our love for each other would not be enough to make the relationship last. I moved on, with a sad heart, but nevertheless, I was able to let him go.

Six months went by with no communication.

Then one night, as I was in rehearsals for the musical Hair in the Theatre Department, I saw Mark walk by the doorway of the rehearsal room. He backed up, reappeared and waved at me. I thought “What is he doing on campus?” I lost my breath. It was as if I saw a ghost and I wanted to burst out crying. The beautiful memories of our time together came flooding back and my heart was so confused.  I was filled with a longing to be with Mark again, yet logically I knew it’d never work. How will I ever be able to shake him? My friend sitting next to me grabbed my hand and said “Oh my God! Mark!” I sat there stunned.  Later that night he called me at 3am, obviously drunk.

Hey…. Whats up?...

I was so annoyed that he woke me up so late and that he was the typical ex-boyfriend drunk dialing me. That's no way to win me back.

What do you mean “WHAT'S UP????”

I was such a bitch to him.

What are you doing?

I’m SLEEPING Mark… it’s 3am, I’m in rehearsals and studying for finals…GET A LIFE!

Then I hung up.

A week later I got the news that Mark had been at Lake Havasu for Spring Break and that there had been a terrible boat accident. 

Mark was missing. 

Stay tuned for Part II …

Video Store Sad Girl

(First written in May 2011. I'm very much over this guy now, but I wanted to post this story anyway)

My face has become all too familiar to the guys at the local video store and what’s worse is that I’m usually there on the weekends.

If you were the clerk ringing up the cute, and obviously sad, girl renting Blue Valentine and saying “If there’s a guy’s name on my account, will you please take him off?” What would you think?
Girl broke up with boyfriend and now she’s alone, renting movies. 
Bingo! 

Recently she’s been renting more than one movie.The Fighter AND Winters Bone on a Friday night. Alert, alert. Girl is hunkering down this weekend with a batch of intense rentals. What is going on with her? Where are her friends? Why isn’t she dating? And why is she wearing that same bandanna on her head again?

Is love even out there for me or did I miss the boat entirely? My parents are unconsciously blatant about it as well.

Perhaps this is why I am "Video Store Sad Girl": On our way to my goddaughter’s baptism (the closest I’ve gotten to having my own children), my Mom fondly looked over to my Dad and said “Oh Al, our LAST grandchild. Our LAST baptism.  Ohh! This is it!”  From the back seat I meekly said “Um, hello??? I’m still fertile back here.”

It only took two days of quality time with my married friends, their children, my family and all of their children, and my best friend’s daughter’s birthday party where I was the only person there who was single and childless, to break down and bawl hysterically in solitude.

One of the moms came up to me and said, "You are SO BRAVE to come to this party!". I think she was referring to the over sugared/hyper children who could be potentially annoying to someone like me, but what I heard was, "You are SO BRAVE to come to this party given the fact that you are yearning for children and a husband of your own. Doesn't it just kill you to see all this love and not be a part of it?" Man, I was on the verge of tears. Then a friend of mine distracted me with, "I just love reading all about your fabulous life on Facebook! I wish I was still single and free!"

To mend my Video Store Sad Girl heart, I opened up my Facebook Notes and referred to my article "On this Side of the Fence", which did me little good. I was unconsoleable.

Maybe it was a bad weekend to be spending most of my time with children. I'm nearing the end of my fertility, at the apex of my sexual prime and my biological alarm clock is screaming in my face. Shit, 7 years ago my Gynecologist looked up through my legs, while in the midst of my yearly exam, and told me to hurry up and start having babies before it's too late.

Note to self: Stay far away from adorable children when ovulating.
Other Note to self: Return videos.

 

That's Winter, my Goddaughter, my parent's LAST grandchild.

Girls Night Out Meets Boys Night Out

Have you ever had those nights when you just don’t feel like going out, but everybody else does?  

I’ve never really been a big fan of gender-exclusive outings, mostly because I have more fun flirting with guy friends that I know vs. guys I don’t know, but regardless, there I was nudging myself to participate in Girls Night at Pioneer Bar in New York City.

As I dragged my feet up to the door, kicking and screaming for my male companions, I flung myself into the mayhem of an overcrowded bar buzzing with hot guys and well dressed women and immediately regretted my rebellious choice in clothing – jeans and a tee-shirt. Girls Night requires cute shoes, a short dress, tousled hair and fun jewelry.  This was going to be a long night of feeling like a Freshman at Senior Prom, so I ordered myself a beer and parked my bootie on a bench, accepting my fate of wallflowering.  

The obnoxious deafening sound of 100 competing conversations reverberating off of the high ceilings and concrete floors muted when our eyes met.

I rarely find myself attracted or interested in anyone and that night was not the night for romance – I was not prepared to meet the hottest guy in the bar who wanted to talk to me nor did I fathom that anyone would even notice the wallpaper that was I; but our eyes were locked on each other as I painted on my make-up, dabbed on perfume and shaved my legs in my imagination.

Damn it Finney!! You KNOW you always meet cute guys when you look like shit! You should have at least swapped out your lip balm for your lipstick this time.  Fine if you don’t want to get dolled up, but have an emergency kit in your purse... PLEASE!

Thank god I’m an actor. I can just act like I’m looking good. No need to apologize for my disheveled mess as I toss back beers by myself in the corner.  I’m cool. 

He and his group of guy friends were sitting at the table next to me and my group of girlfriends. Oh how cute – girl at Girls Night Out meets boy at Boys Night Out. My friends all had their backs turned to me, talking to whatever peope had their interest, and his buddies were all busy flirting with some gals on their end, so that left just he and I, looking at each other.  

Our conversation continued on through the whole night. The entire world blurred into the background as he and I sat there, crystal clear, having an exciting conversation about our lives, the world, our families... Everything you can think of that was super cool to talk about, we covered it.  

That sparkle in his eyes that told me “Oh my god, I just met someone!” was thrilling. I abandoned my crappy beer and upgraded to cocktails, the embarrassing plain-Jane look I was sporting didn’t seem to bother me anymore, I felt like the most beautiful girl there. His name was Mitch.  (Does that ruin it? The name Mitch doesn’t really send tingles to my toes, but regardless, that was his name.)

After about two hours of this Love-At-First-Sight experience, me meeting his friends, him meeting my friends, our friends meeting each other and etc., he excused himself to the bar and asked what I’d like to drink.  The moment he was gone, Tim, his best friend, pulled me aside.

Theresa, I know this is going to sound weird, we all love you and think you are beautiful, but we are all standing over there totally jealous and pissed off.

 What?

Mitch is engaged, Theresa. In fact, we are all out tonight celebrating his engagement.  And it just pisses us all off that the ONE person in our group who is actually NOT available is the one talking to you. Blow him off and come talk to us!

At this point, I’ve turned a bright shade of red and my acid reflux has already burned a permanent hole in my throat.   It was at that very moment that I realized that Love-At-First-Sight is a load of crizzap. 

He returned with my Jack & Ginger, and the fact that my fury had melted the ice in my cocktail before I even took it from him was his indication that something went awry while he was gone being such a gentlemen at the bar buying me a drink. I wish I could say that I threw both Jack AND Ginger in his face, but I was so paralyzed with anger and embarrassment that all I could do was stand there like a deer in the headlights wondering why my beverage was hot.

My anger causes me to go numb at times and at that moment, when my world spun out of control, you could have hit me over the head with a friggen skillet and I would not have reacted. 

Congratulations

Huh? 

Congratulations on your engagement, Mitch. I’m so happy for you.

He launched into a diatribe of babble but all I could hear was my made up version of his nonsense “I’m an ass hole, I’m a fake, I’m an ass hole, I’m a fake, I’m an ass hole, I’m a fake”. 

My reaction to his excuses that I could not hear thru the angry white noise in my ears was a blank Bambi stare.

Theresa – I swear to GOD I am NOT engaged! Tim said that to you to win you over. He LIED! Dude, Theresa, seriously… Tim’s just pissed off because he wanted you to like HIM. I promise you, Theresa. I promise you... Why would I talk to you all night like that if I were engaged? I’m not engaged. Please believe me.

Bambi may be cute, but Bambi ain’t dumb.

Fine, if you’re not engaged, then meet me outside in 5 minutes. I’m going to get a cab and take you home with me.  

Bambi knows how to call a wolf’s bluff.

I walked outside feeling destroyed, stood on the sidewalk and hailed a cab. I turned around to find him standing on the top step of the bar stoop, unable to put that next foot forward which would prove my fears wrong. Apologies for me and fear for his unhappy future flickered in his eyes. 

And there was my answer.

I climbed into the cab.

7^th and Union in Park Slope Please? .... YES that’s Brooklyn! Get over it!

Please Release the Curse

I have said I love you to six people in my lifetime, but I’ve only really been in love once. I’m not proud of that.

I feel that I have taken the word Love in vain too many times and perhaps I jinxed myself in ever truly falling in love again. Since I’m still single, I hypothesize that Aphrodite has cursed me, in punishment of taking the word Love so lightly.

Dear Goddess of Love,

Please release the curse.

I humbly kneel before you, pleading for this spell to vanish. I admit my shortcomings. I fall in love to easily. I am easily wooed. At times I have been a push over and have said those precious words to the wrong people. To the people I did not truly have those feelings for but was hopeful that I eventually would. Or I was afraid to hurt them if I didn’t say it back. Or maybe I was just plain dumb and went along with it. I never thought I’d be the kind of person who took “Love” so carelessly, but I am, Aphrodite, I am... I WAS. I am not that girl anymore and I cross my heart that my past mistakes will never be repeated.

• Brad: I was 16 years old and he was just playin’ me. I think it was more infatuation and less love, so honestly I don’t think, Aphrodite, that you should be punishing me for this one.  

• Brain: I said “I love you” too soon in our relationship, and I’m sorry for that. But he never loved me anyways. He told me so when he dumped my ass, don’t you remember? “I never loved you anyways, Theresa. I only said it because you said it to me.” He did a nice job in making me feel worthless, but nevertheless, he had a knack for that. I was an aspiring Broadway actress in New York City, which he didn’t like, and he told me “I hope your dreams quietly die”. Why on earth did I say I loved him?

• Dominick: he was psycho and that’s my fault for getting involved with someone so cookoo. Who says “I love you” on the first date? Psychos do. There is no reason why I shouldn’t be punished and cursed for this mistake.

• Brahim: When will I learn that I need to get past the puppy love stage first before tossing around the word “Love”? He, like Dominick, was crazy enough to say he loved me within the first week we were dating, and I was nuts enough to go along with it. He was mysterious and exotic at first, but come on, those warning signs of him being jealous, stubborn, rude and filled with rage were there from the start. I just ignored them because he was hot.

• Mike: saying “I love you” while not really meaning it, and saying it too soon can lead to disaster and this case proves my point. Once again, this guy, like Dominick and Brahim, pounced on me with those forbidden words the day after we first kissed. I’m not shocked that I’ve been cursed, Aphrodite, because after all, this was the worst kind of love I’ve ever lied about being in. I ignored all the red flags, I jumped into a relationship, I was blind to all of his baggage. Heck I even LIVED with this one. What on earth was I thinking? Yes he was initially my friend, he was romantic and deep, but he also never took me seriously, he was a loser with no money, no steady job, no bank account, no driver’s license, and he was a raging alcoholic who eventually got me robbed. By the time I dumped him, he owed me EIGHT THOUSAND DOLLARS. I relinquish you of your obligation to punish me for this doozie because I have punished myself enough already.

Aph, I’m not saying that I do not deserve a little punishment. But let’s not forget the one beautiful guy I was truly in love with and whom I didn’t take the word Love in vain with.

• Mark: My first love. Romantic, affectionate, giving, artist who I loved so very much.  I was only 19, and our love may have been immature and carefree, but that was a beautiful time in my life and I will always cherish those memories.

So, Ahpy, please lift this curse and let me find that special person that I know is out there looking for me. If you do me this favor, I promise I will never say I Love You ever again to any guy, ever…unless I’m saying it to the man I know I will marry.

Your humble servant,

Theresa

 

 P.S. Thank you for letting me have some affection!

Tales of Indecent Exposures

I have had my fair share of strange and surprising penis sightings in my life.

It all started in Italy when I was 21.

Not sure why nasty old Italian men find it necessary to jack-off in broad daylight while actually TRYING to get my attention, but there I was with my long blond hair in the midst of darker skinned foreigners, sticking out like a sore thumb, being the perfect target for every pervert that graced the sidewalks, park benches and bus stops of Florence, Italy.

At first I was appalled by such indecency. Embarrassed, offended, creeped out… but it became less of a shock and more of an expectation during my 3 week vacation that my friends and I actually started to seek these predators out. All we had to do was either listen for a snickering and light slapping sound, or see some rapid arm movement in our periphery and we’d barricade those nasty bastards with cameras in hand, laughing hysterically. Our cackling and pointing at their johnsons flopping about always made them tuck and zip. Guess they didn’t like that.

My conclusion that only disgusting Italian men in Florence wank-off  to unsuspecting American college girls was proven wrong when I  arrived home and was blasted by the same offence here! Right Here, in Orange County, California. In the affluent neighborhood of Villa Park! I was driving out of my parent’s cul-de-sac, stopped at the stop sign, when some guy in a huge truck drove by me,  noticed me, lifted his pelvis high enough for me to see him holding up his frankfurter and screamed “YYYEEEAAHH!” out of his window.

Whaaa??? Oh boy.

I knew my days of tally-whacker watching were not over when I moved to New York City.

I figured this is the city to see some good wedding tackle.

They’ve got a lot of park benches and alleys, the underground subway is probably a magnet for some good joystick handlers, and since the city is a sea of 3 million pedestrians the occasional perv can probably she-bop completely naked and no one would notice. The world was my Oyster!

It’s unfortunate that I did not have my camera with me when I was at the gym that fateful Friday night. The Cardinal rule for one-eyed trouser snake watching is to always be armed with a camera and I failed miserably. To this day I still regret my haste when I over looked the Cannon Power Shot when packing my gym bag.

With the hopes of working off all the Ben and Jerry’s  I had inhaled the night before while wailing on the phone to my Mom about the audacity of my boyfriend Brian to dump me and say he never loved me in the first place, I hauled my fat ass over to the only available treadmill and started to jog.


It was an odd place for a treadmill to be since it was kind of off to the side and in a weird little nook.

I had nothing to entertain myself while jogging, just the view of the sidewalk on the other side of the window.  As I was working out, the image of someone standing outside started to appear. I had to focus my eyes since it was brighter in the gym than it was out there. After a few moments, it was clear that some guy was standing there staring at me. Just standing there, a mere 3 feet away from where I was. The only thing separating him from me was the floor to ceiling window.

I thought, “Seriously? I can't just jog in peace without some ass hole staring at me?” I tried to make very aggressive eye contact with him, like “Dude, GO AWAY”, but I noticed that his eyes were not on me, they were directed upwards. I followed his gaze and realized there was a TV hanging above me. “OH! The game is on. He’s watching the game.”

No.  Not entirely.

There was a strange movement going on at waist level.  I re-focused my eyes and peered. A woman, who seemed like his girlfriend, was standing next to him, shoulder to shoulder but facing the other way (probably to keep a look-out) and multi-tasking with a backwards monkey slap while getting in some one-armed tricep kickbacks for herself.

I felt compelled to continue jogging and watching his baloney pony as it bopped to and fro in her hand, waiting for the “outcome”.

I was horrified and yet intrigued.

"I cannot believe this is happening right in front of my face! Is anyone else noticing this?" I looked left, I looked right. I was all alone in this experience. Just me and the obviously kinky couple standing under their umbrella mere feet away from me.

"This gym is pretty well lit. They obviously know that I'm working out right here. Why did they pick this particular spot right in front of ME? I don't get it!"

But I kept watching.. and watching... becoming more and more nauseated.

I kept telling myself, “Look away! You’re going to see it come out! His heat-seeking love missile is going to launch and you’re going witness it!  Look away, lassie, look away!!”, yet my eyes refused to comply.

Then, POW!  At approximately 30 miles per hour the triumphant moment happened.  Like water in a pressurized hose being released, his home made yogurt burst forth from his glory hole with untamed vigor.

Weird that the couple seemed totally unfazed by it. Just pump pump, spew spew, fold and button, and they were off as if it was a nightly ritual, stepping over the cloudy white puddle on their way to his grandmother’s house probably.

All the blood rushed out of my face
My legs started to give way
My stomach did a triple back flip
I stumbled off the treadmill as the conveyor belt kept turning
I ran to the water fountain
Dry heaved over the little drain while making a spectacle of myself
Sipped some water
Sat down
Then cried like a traumatized four year old girl

Sex and the Eharmony

It’s been one month since joining Eharmony and I’ve weeded through about 600 guys.

Cute guys like this do not exist on Eharmony.

I’m becoming more and more weirded-out by on-line dating and I am curious about some things.

   1. Why do guys not realize that blacking out their friends eyes in their profile photos is just plain creepy?

   2. If you’re not going to look a little deeper and answer the profile questions with some intelligence, why are you paying $50 a month to be on the site?

Example
Question: What are a few things that you cannot survive without?
Answer: Air Water Shelter
Really? Wow guy! We have so much in common. I cannot live without air and water either! Let’s meet for coffee and discuss!

   3. Am I prude to be disinterested in anyone who mentions sex on their profile?

Even mentioning it once is bad enough, but multiple times just horrifies me.
I understand that some guys may have been in sexless marriages and they now think that most women aren’t into it, but when he says that he must be with a partner who likes having sex on a weekly basis, and that he must be with someone who is comfortable exploring his sexuality with compassion and understanding, that just grosses me out.

What exactly do I need to be compassionate and understanding about? I’m picturing him on a sex swing wearing some kind of mask. He’s probably a skirt chaser who can’t take his hand off my ass when we are in public.

All sorts of crude images of us doing weird things pop into my head and I quickly “close” him.

Example
Question: What are a few things that you cannot survive without?
Answer: Great Sex
Delete

In my opinion, mentioning sex on your profile is like talking about your sexuality with a complete stranger in person.

Would a guy really walk up to me at a party and within the first 2 minutes tell me that he must be with a partner who likes having “Great Sex”?  Well, maybe. Recently I met a guy at a bar in New York who told me, after hello, that he has 4 gray pubic hairs.  So, yes, there are guys out there who have no filter, but in any case: Delete.

Am I being too selective?

Perhaps I need to realize that most men are sexually conscious and that maybe I’m reading too far into their innocent comments about needing sex?

I really don’t see the point in choosing “I cannot live with a sexually inactive partner” as a line item on my Can’t Stands list. Eharmony only lets you pick a few Must Haves and Can't Stands, and they give you about 100 items to choose from. I just safely assume that most people do want sex and if I were to fall in love, we would be up all night with our hands all over each other.

In my heart, there are far more important deal breakers than sex, especially since I only get to choose a few from the website's list. So when a guy chooses more than one item referring to sex, I think “Wow, so out of that plethora of core life values and morals to choose from, what you’re telling me is that you are a horn dog.” Is that a safe assumption?

Here Comes the Bride...Oh and There She Goes!

I have often wondered about the significance of marriages and weddings.  There MUST be an answer to this since almost all of my friends are married, so let me ask:

• Why did you all marry each other?

The reason I ask is because divorce rates are steadily climbing which makes me think that the constitution of marriage isn’t what it used to be and perhaps we are all stuck in this Leave it to Beaver fantasy.  Couples stayed together thru hard times back in the I Love Lucy days because society shunned divorce and maybe people held on to their promises more than they do now. 

Divorce rates are increasing every year. In California alone, 75% of marriages end in divorce, which makes me think that “For Better or For Worse” is more a metaphor and less a real promise. I honestly think that that metaphor sets up unrealistic expectations.

Throughout history, people were wed out of obligations:

• Religious traditions
• Bargaining agreements between families
• Political reasons in royalty
• Shotguns

On the majority, those obligations do not apply to 2011.

Don’t get me wrong, I applaud quite a few of my friend's divorces because their marriages were cancerous, but let’s cut to the chase:

• What is the point in getting married when you can just as easily get divorced?

Why not just live together in bliss? I have friends who do that and their relationship has been going strong for 13 years now, they even have a baby together. Isn’t THAT more of a sign of their commitment than a diamond ring and an $800 wedding cake?

People may think that I write these blogs about being single because I want to vent about not being married.  That is pretty far from the truth. I’m just hoping to meet an amazing guy who I won't ever get sick of. Weather we get married or not isn’t the issue for me.

I understand there are legal perks to being married. But you can get hooked up with all that good stuff by eloping or becoming Domestic Partners which is much easier and cheaper.

I honestly think that most people want their 15 minutes of fame, and since that’s pretty difficult to actually achieve, a fantastic wedding that cost’s them half a year’s salary is their pacifier.  Or maybe they just want to live out their wedding day fantasies that they’ve cooked up in their heads since childhood. I dunno! I’m an event planner for a living, and I just don’t see the fascination in planning a huge wedding.

All the stress of:

• Budgeting 
• Location scouting
• Hiring vendors
• Paying for a dress I’ll never wear again and the guilt of asking half a dozen bridesmaids to do the same thing

Then the stress of the actual day:

• Getting up at the crack of dawn to start the process of looking absolutely perfect
• Spending all night talking to every single person 
• Being so totally exhausted, staving and shitfaced that I can’t even imagine doin’ it with my new husband in our luxury honeymoon suite

 None of that sounds appealing to me. NONE of it.


If I ever get married, I’m going to ask my friends to throw the event for me and I’ll just show up on the day and wear whatever they shove in front of my face. I’m not kidding.

I do want to fall madly in love and spend a wonderful life with one special man who I will have children with. I just don’t see the point in the pomp and circumstance.


Enlighten me...

The One Who Got Away

As I was digging through the depths of my closet at my parents house last weekend, I stumbled upon the ancient three ring binder covered in "Be Smart Don't Start" and "GO Wally!" stickers, that houses the relics of my teenage life. 

• What's inside?  My first batch of creative writing stories
• What did I learn? I’ve been writing about being single  since I was 15

Even in my formative years I wasn’t letting myself fall in love. It all started in 1989 with this romantic, fictional tale….

All That Glitters Is Not Gold

The night was moist with the moon shining brightly in the middle of a star speckled sky. Their eyes met, and suddenly the whole world was standing still. The waves that once crashed against the shores stopped; the faint laughter from the people on the beach faded away. Nothing but love filled the air. As they remained speechless in each other’s presence, she noticed a sparkle in his optimistic eyes. She noticed nothing except the breeze that was blowing his thin, wavy hair in different directions. His eyes were a crystal blue, like the sea reflecting in the afternoon sun. Eyes that tell a thousand words in one, quick glance. And that’s all it was. One quick glance between them, and she knew that she had just fallen in love.

He decided to give her a friendly smile as he passed by. She felt that he loved her. His smile was so gentle, so alive. Yes, he was a strong man on the outside, but when he smiled, he had an inner glow. He was like a diamond. Something precious she could hold firmly in her hand and dare never to let go.

This was the man for her, the man who would promise her the world. He would love her till the end of time. But she had to say something, something that would stop him dead in his tracks and make him fall madly in love with her. And she knew just the thing. Then suddenly she heard another voice and the silence was broken. She could hear the waves crashing against the shore and the faint laughter of the strangers on the beach. Reality finally came back to her, and she could hear a female voice coming from behind her saying, “Honey, ready to go?”

Then she quickly looked at him while he replied, “Yes! I’m coming!” He passed her with a quick brush against her arm. She turned around to watch him walk away, only to see him holding the woman’s hand.

And no, he didn’t look back.

I’ve been glorifying my arduously loveless life for more than 2 decades which, I think, is the main reason why I’m 37 and still single. I have fallen victim to my own self-fulfilling prophesy! See, here’s another short form narrative…

EXIT

Glances from every eager eye fell on her as she walked in

She was beautiful

All she wanted and waited for was to fall hopelessly in love

He couldn’t stop the racing heart inside of his pounding chest

The trembling hands of time ticked on as she walked across the room

His heart told him to follow, but his courage held him back

The lonely exit sign hung above the door

She was gone

I’ve always had this romantic idea of being “the one who got away”, which is so odd, dysfunctional, terribly unrealistic and self-glamorizing. Why on earth did I never write about REQUITED love? And here I am, 22 years after becoming this whimsically forlorn author who romanticizes her solitude, writing a blog titled "Yes, I Am Still Single" like it's a shock!

I'm going to be honest, maybe the reason why I'm still coming home every night to an empty bed is because, in some weird way, I enjoy the torture.

Did I Not Get the Memo?

Where did you all meet your current spouses?  

Have I been doing something wrong here?

•  I’ve been to bars
•  I’ve been to parties
• I’ve gone on vacations
• I went to college
• I’ve lived on both coasts
• I’ve been set up by almost everyone I know
• I’ve gone to shit tons of weddings
•  I’ve dated my friends
•  I’ve dated a few co-workers
• I’ve dated my brother’s friends
• I’ve dated classmates from my childhood
• I’ve tried Match.com
•  PlentyOfFish.com
• LavaLife
• Cemistry
• OkCupid
• Right now I’m on Eharmony

Hell, I even started airing my entire soul on a blog about being single, and still no dice.

I am the last remaining single (and childless) person in my group of friends. 

It’s really cute that almost all of my college friends married each other and have had adorable children... see..

...but it has become a bit daunting to show up to their parties knowing full well that at some point my cursed life of solitude will be the topic of conversation.  My guy friends, who are so handsome and unfortunately taken by all my beautiful girl friends, marvel and shake their heads as they either try to come up with some kind of explanation for this phenomenon or wrack their brain for someone they can set me up with.

• Finney, I don’t get it! You’re so beautiful! If I were single, I’d be all over you.
• What are you doing wrong?
• Have you tried the on-line thing?
• Don’t worry, I KNOW there is someone out there for you, just keep being yourself and he’ll show up.
• What is wrong with you?
• Why do you always go for the bad boys? Finney, you’re attracted to the wrong type!
• I cannot believe no one has snatched you up yet! It should be illegal for someone like you to still be single.
• You are going to make someone very very lucky.
• Don’t you WANT to settle down?

As my brother and I were backing out of my parents driveway to do some holiday shopping back in 2002, he very casually twisted around to see behind him, putting his arm behind my passenger seat, looking out the back window then looking in the rear view mirror, obviously avoiding my eyeballs, and nonchalantly said, "Sooooo, anyyyy...boyfriends lately?.....or.....you know.... girlfriends - it's TOTALLY cool man.. whatever...."

 

Instead of blogging about my misery, I thought I’d benefit if I just asked you, the readers, how you met your significant others.

Maybe there’s a corner of the world I haven’t pursued yet. Or is there a secret trick I don’t know about?

I’ve always been told that love comes when you least expect it but I don’t think I’ll ever NOT expect (or beg God profusely) to meet that great guy when my foot hits the welcome mat, even if it’s to get my damn mail.

My sister-in-law told me that she had finally become comfortable with spending her life alone and then 3 months later she met my brother.

Well, I’ve already done that.

I’ve already found the liberation of being alone forever. Unfortunately I find myself in a neurotic circle of misery because, once again, I’m back to being lonely and afraid.  So please don’t tell me to stop hoping for love.

Perhaps I’m trying too hard? All those on-line dating sites and giving almost every guy a chance even if I’m not attracted to him… maybe that’s not working?  I  have even gone in the opposite direction and have turned dates down. That didn’t help my love life either.

Yes, I have had boyfriends and I do go out on dates. That’s not the problem.  I just haven’t found “him” yet and I’m starting to wonder if it’s "me"!

So please, do me a favor and give me the golden ticket. 

 I want an everlasting gobstopper!

 What’s the secret?

On This Side of the Fence

After last week’s blog, people may think that I’m a bit bitter because I’m not married and don't have the kids, the house and the kick ass baby stroller. They may be right.  There’s a sense of stability associated to all of that, I guess.

For years, my Dad kept asking me, “Any new boyfriends?”, “Gone on any dates lately?”

Finally I said to him, “Why do you keep asking me that? Why are you only interested in my love life?”

Dad: “I want you to settle down and have some security. I’m worried about you”.

Me: “Shouldn’t you be proud to have an independent, 33 year old daughter who can live on her own in New York City and not need a man for security?”

Dad: "..."

Success! The interrogations finally ended.

His concerns were less offensive than they were depressing.

I’m still at sea, but there is a lot to be thankful for. Yeah, I know it’s probably just wonderful to be married to the love of your life and have mini versions of yourself running around, but the grass is green on my side of the fence too.

Actually, it looks like Ireland over here!

• Having a house may be nice, but I don't have a screwed up mortgage that may surprise me in 5 years and send me packing, nor do I have to worry about household expenses for I am a renter.

• I'm free to live my life the way I want, without worrying about other people. All of my time and energy can be spent on writing, being in a play, or making silly videos with my friend Mark and I'm not going to be that neglectful  mother or wife.

• My money is my money and guilt free shopping sprees are my pass time.

• I can still live the Peter Pan life and be spontaneous.

• Silent sleep. How anyone can live with a crying child or a snoring husband is a mystery to me and I pray with fervor that when Aphrodite releases this love curse she has on me, that I will not be stuck with an apen'ic husband.

• No compromises: I'll be going to my parent's house to enjoy the fruit cake and the sliced ham.

• No lover's spats

• I can come home from work, put on my pajamas, sit my ass on the couch, eat toaster waffles, drink my Newcastle, and watch Glee all night if I wanna! SO THERE!

 (Not catching that! I  avoided the frenzy, behind the overzealous girl with her arms in the air.)

Never Been Married

I am 37 years old, never been married and don't have any children (that I know of).
Almost all of my friends are either:

• married
• married with children
• divorced
• divorced with children
• or unmarried with child(ren)

I am the youngest of 5 in my family and by the age of 37 my sister and all 3 of my brothers were:

• married
• and had at least one baby

My siblings have created 11 children total and have had 5 marriages and 2 divorces.

That accounts for more than 5 weddings, 5 engagement parties, 5 bachelorette/bachelor parties, and well over 11 baby showers.

I have been in 8 weddings:

• A flower girl in my brother Dave's wedding
• a bride’s maid in my sister Marcy's wedding
• a maid of honor in my best friend Steph's wedding
• and a bride's maid in Katie's, Misty's, Jenna's, Karen's, and Jen's wedding

I sang at my brother Dave's second wedding and at Steph's, Katies, Jen's, and Christine's wedding.
I gave a reading at my brother Troy's wedding. "Love is patient, Love is kind"...blah blah

I threw a bridal shower and bachelorette party for both Steph and Karen.
I threw a baby shower for Laurel.

Combined, I think I've been to 30+ weddings, engagement parties, bridal showers, bachelorette parties and baby showers.

I figure I've spent well over 15K on all these excursions, yet here I am in my late 30s and am still waiting for all those good deeds I did for everyone else to boomerang. At this point I'm thinkin' that's probably not going to happen and honestly I'm ok with that.

What I'm not ok with is the fact that I'm missing out on a lot of great parties and gifts in my honor.
Forget the man, forget the baby.. I want my registry!!

By this point in my life I should have already received a crap load of money from my parents for:

• a wedding
• a down payment on a house
• and at least a kick ass baby stroller or something

Where are my 3 bridal showers, engagement party, bachelorette party, wedding, honeymoon, 3 baby showers per kid, divorce, second engagement party, second bachelorette party, second wedding and second honeymoon? Why don't I get a bridal shower registry, a wedding registry and a baby shower registry?Where is that amazing piece of jewelry that's supposed to go on my left ring finger?And where is that other amazing piece of jewelry that the father of my child is supposed to give me during my pregnancy that's better known as a "birthing gift"?


I'll be honest, I'm probably never going to have kids, and as far as meeting the love of my life, that could happen, but at this rate, it's probably not going to happen for another 10 years. I'll be a 47 year old bride who can pay for her own damn wedding.

So what I'm looking for now is all that cool stuff that everybody else got.


Your comments would be appreciated.

A 20k party with fabulous gifts and a paid vacation to somewhere tropical would be even more appreciated.

 

Looking forward to the future.