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It’s Complicated – WTF? Is your relationship Advanced Physics

15 Dec

Recently we spotted a friend’s Facebook relationship status update as saying “in a relationship/ it’s complicated.”

Now, we’re not trying to judge, but seriously? Someone is going to have to explain this to us. We’re in our 30s, we have lives. Why in the world would you put up with a “complicated” relationship?

Here at TTTM, we’ve talked about offbeat relationships and we’ve talked a ton about traditional ideas of dating and relationships. Is this “it’s complicated” stuff just a new arena into which our open minds need to step?

Scoundrels, what is your take on the complicated relationship? Worth it, or you gottta be kidding me – and yourself?

Guest Post: Branded–The Scarlet H

17 Nov

We’re breaking new ground, scoundrels. This guest post is endearing and honest, but mostly, it’s reality. So many people are affected by STDs. I’m not sure how much this conversation is had in the open, but today is as good as any to start a public dialogue about what many sweep under the rug and pretend doesn’t exist. For the sake of anonymity, we’ll call this guest blogger Mary, Mary Quite Contrary. Mary is braving what we wouldn’t ever want to experience–navigating dating with an STD.

TTTM has yet to venture into the territory of STDs, dating, and the oftentimes fact-less stigmas that are attached to STDs and the people that have them. Regardless of how you feel about this topic today, you will undoubtedly walk away from your monitor/laptop/PDA/whatever with food for thought. This is definitely a subject worth the conversation.

I’m 30 years old and I just found out this summer that I have herpes.

There, I said it. It has been weighing on my chest (and genitals) for several months now.

And, no, if you saw me walking down the street you would have no idea that I have a Sexually Transmitted Disease. I may wear the occasional low cut shirt, but my cooter is always covered, and I’m not out on the town slutting it up.

I actually got herpes (more specifically, HSV 2, the down south kind) from my last boyfriend, Continue reading

Guest Post: Doing It (and by “It” I mean “The Math”)

16 Nov

Hauntologist brings this post to us today. I think the concept of PMDA that he proposes is quite interesting. I really don’t believe in dating younger than myself. Maybe it’s because all my male counter-parts have been older. Maybe it’s just that I think those younger than me smell like Similac. Either way, I wouldn’t shun them for a good roll in the hay. They just aren’t long term material, and they definitely won’t be meeting any of my friend. Fuck that shit!  I will say I’m glad this topic came up. A friend on Facebook posed a question last night. She asked, “How much of an age difference is too much of an age difference?” Well, ladyface with the pool boy (who is sizzling btw), let’s see if you can get some insight from Hauntologist and the rest of the TTTM community. Enjoi!

On this week’s episode of Bones Dr. Temperance Brennan (Emily Deschanel) and her partner Agent Booth (David Boreanaz) investigated the murder of a young man aboard a “Cougar Cruise” – a shipboard party for older women on the hunt for (often much) younger men. In response to the puritanical Booth’s protestation, Dr. Brennan offered the following formula for the Permissible Minimum Datable Age (hereafter PMDA): half one’s age plus 8.

PMDA=1/2 + 8 Continue reading

Wanna go on a blind date?

10 Nov

Ha! Wanna go on a blind date? Shut up!

Wait. Are you serious? No seriously, are you serious? Is it because you feel sorry for me? You really do think I’m that pathetic and lonely. Okay, well, maybe that’s true, but dayum. What am I saying? I’m good. I’m good being single. A blind date? You understand this could go horribly awry, and I’m liable to UNFRIEND you if it does. Maybe I won’t unfriend you, but the trust factor will diminish! I’m talking there will be a lot of fancy dinners and bottles of wine before we are down like 4 flat tires again. Capisce!

Mind you, I know I shouldn’t turn down dates in my thirties–blind or not. Continue reading

The dark side of co-habitation: Part 3 Let there be light

4 Nov

Around 3am this morning, I was jolted out of my peaceful slumber by a flying elbow to my spine.  Immediately following my groans of dismay was a slurred apology and then quiet. I thought of all the awful things I could do back to him for about thirty seconds, and decided that I was too tired to execute any plan of revenge.

Sharing the bed is still a work in progress.

I'm sure you're a nice person, but we do not like your face.

But then I think of how he starts my coffee in the morning before he leaves for work. And how he sits through 90201 while theVar and I go on about how Naomi is too orthognathic for our standard of beauty.

Last night I was talking with @DustinVan (the sexiest man on Twitter) (*touches self*)  and he asked me how the co-habitation was going.

Now, I’m not going to pretend that I can recall the conversation exactly, but I’m pretty sure I said the words “domestic bliss” at some point. And I meant it. No, really.

I’ve picked a good match for shacking up. Mike doesn’t make that truck backing up beeping noise when I leave a room – despite the fact that I’ve packed on 14lbs in the last 3 months.  He DVRs hockey games so I don’t have to sit through that shit. He lets me pick on the cats. He poops in the designated pooping bathroom. He doesn’t get all bent out of shape when I make horny cat sounds at Anderson Cooper (meoooow! *presenting*) He lets me be a complete asshole when I get a question right on Jeopardy and everyone else misses it. How do you make it on to Jeopardy and not know what an elegy is? That’s just asking for a smug remark from Trebek. Another silver fox, by the way.

Above all else, every single day, I know that he loves me and Smokey.

So there it is, Scoundrels. Co-habitation is working out well so far. I expect it to continue going that way  as long as he poops in the proper bathroom.

Guest Post: Standards? What Standard?

27 Oct

I think we all remember the day that we decided we had a list of wants and definitely-do-not-wants in a potential mate.  I juxtapose the partner I wanted and the partner I may never have all the time; hence, me living in Singledom Valley. Standards drive me fucking crazy, but I know without them I’d still be in that nomadic sexcursion I lived during my twenties. Today, TheBoo talks about her list and its evolution. All I have to add is, “Why would you do this to me now, TheBoo? I have enough to think about, and I could really do without contemplating these damn lists!”

When I was just a little girl, I asked my mother, “What are standards?”  I don’t really remember what her actual answer was, but I somehow got the impression that standards are what you hold out for, no matter what else may come along…no matter how good it looks or how much it likes you.  However, as I mature and develop a better sense of self and reality, I have begun to understand that my youthful, incomplete understanding of standards was not exactly accurate.

When I was in high school, my standards developed into a List.  You know, that sheet of paper with bullet points and qualities you think you’d like to find in your spouse or life partner.

That first List had a lot of really deep and revealing attributes on it, like:

Awww yeah! Sweet hatchback. Image courtesy of bringatrailer.com

  • Dark hair
  • 6’1”
  • Clean-shaven
  • Plays piano
  • Older than me
  • Saving himself for marriage
  • Drives a hatchback

After a few years passed and I matured a little more, my list looked more like:

  • College graduate
  • Has dark hair
  • Dresses Emo
  • Hugs trees
  • Reads books prolifically
  • Isn’t a complete n00b at sex
  • Drives a black Camaro

Now that I’m in my 30’s, my understanding of what will really make me happy has matured a bit.  I don’t dress Emo anymore, my knowledge of men, relationships, and cars has expanded.  Additionally, I have quit saving myself for marriage, my last boyfriend didn’t have dark hair, and my dreams of publishing a book before I was 30 have gone unfulfilled.  I am even beginning to question the point of having a list of things I want in a mate.  Rather than a list of things I want, which has gotten less and less specific over time, now I just have a list of deal breakers:

  • Drug addiction
  • STDs
  • Kids
  • No job
  • No car
  • No hair

I may even be selling myself a little short by excluding guys with one or more of those attributes.  After all, there are probably lots of great guys out there with no car.  Or hair.  And is a job really all that important?  I could just go for Sugar Mamma status and support my boyfriend as he goes bald, contracts a bunch of STDs and procreates indiscriminately by whoring himself out in the back seat of my car to pay for his drug addiction…

Okay, maybe there really is something to standards.  Maybe they shouldn’t be as specific as they were when I was in high school, and maybe they should be stricter than they’ve been in the last few months.

My question to the rest of the world: Was holding out for a human List worthwhile?  Did it really make you happy?  Or are you, like the rest of us 30-somethings, just looking for someone who cares?  Maybe that is the be-all and end-all quality in a mate: Someone who gives a shit.

Guest Post: Mmmm hmmm, I’m talking to you, married men

7 Oct

Our Guest Post today comes from Michelle Fox. And woo boy is she putting some of you on blast! As we get older we find ourselves constantly trying to marry (no pun intended, I swear) our former selves with our current identities. Sometimes, it’s a huge #FAIL. Michelle explores one of those very cases. Now, we all hope we don’t have this guy at home, and if we do, he’s about to be in the doghouse. Take it away, Michelle…

Married men who hang out at bars:  consider yourselves on notice!

I chose to celebrate the completion of some major projects at a few different venues this past weekend.  I had true experiences of fun, freedom, and release.  I met some local and national celebrities, I enjoyed a Les Nubian concert, and I made a few new friends.  What has stuck in my craw for the last two days is the energy I’ve been receiving from married men.

I promise not to get on my high horse, but if you’re going to be married, then be married.  Hanging out at a bar with friends is totally acceptable.  Hanging out at such establishments, with your left hand in your pocket while buying drinks for us single ladies is questionable.  Don’t even get me started on the bachelor that wants to come back to my place for one last night of fun.  Really??

I chose the single life for a number of reasons, but one of them includes the benefit of flirting and playing around with different people.  Again, totally OK to do the same when you’re married, but not OK if you are hitting on me with the hopes of furthering our relationship.
I ran into a co-worker from the past at a downtown establishment on Friday night.  He had two other friends with him.  One friend and I hit it off particularly well, until a bell began to chime in my head.  “Let me see your hand,” I asked.  He looked at me like a deer in the headlight.  Our mutual friend asked me how I knew he was married.  I told him the left hand in the pocket got my attention.  Not OK!

So that scene played itself out to my left.  On my right side my girlfriends had began a “party” with two other men.  Drinks were flowing thanks to the generosity of these male beings.  As I began to ask a few questions, it hit me that the more boisterous of the two was married to a former stylist of mine.  The mood quickly changed once he realized that I knew his wife.  Once again, really??

The last story I’ll share includes a “thank you God” for Facebook.  I attended a wonderful networking event where business cards were exchanged with a number of motivated people.  One of these people happens to be a married man, but I would not be able to tell by the way our conversation flowed, the absent wedding ring, and the inquisitive follow-up email I received.  Sure enough, a few clicks through the Internet produced photos of his children along with a relationship status of married.

The validation one receives from the attention of others can be seductive.  I get it!  I also get the commitment to living authentically.  This is my path, and if you are reading these words, I am guessing it is yours too.  I have no personal judgments on rules that each couple shares for their relationship.  I do have judgment about bringing in a third party without full disclosure.  I am clear that I do not tango with married men.  There are plenty of authentically single men to consider.

So married men, and soon-to-be married men, consider yourselves on notice!  I don’t think my voice on this one is going to get any quieter.

The dark side of co-habitation: part one in a series

1 Oct

I’ve long been the person that would say “let’s just get apartments in the same building” regarding living with a mate.

In theory, it’s the perfect scenario. Separate living quarters for the alone time we all crave, with the convenience of living with in steps on your loved one. Seriously, talk me out of that one. Talk about guaranteeing  the longevity of a relationship.

image courtesy of http://essenceoflifechronicles.comYou add a baby to that equation, and suddenly my bright idea makes for a dysfunctional family waiting to happen. So fine. The boyfriend and I embarked on the Great Apartment Search of 2010.

Holy shitballs, Scoundrels. It’s one thing to search for a place on your own, but it’s a whole different animal to consider the needs, desires and whims of another.

I mean really. Who needs a dishwasher and AC? My fancy pants boyfriend, that’s who.

We finally found a place. After over a month of looking. Note: I’ve gone out looking on a Saturday morning and signed a lease by that same evening. The drama, stress and toll it takes on a person to search Craigslist on the daily for a flipping apartment is something that no one should bear. Especially for a month.

I have discovered that Craigslist is really only good for the Missed Connections listings and PNP (if you’re into that). Otherwise, it’s a cesspool of half truths and misleading location listings. GLENDALE IS NOT CHERRY CREEK, Craigslist. Glendale is a bed bug infested shithole.

In the end, I will say that we did find a great place, in our budget, with AC and a dishwasher and in the neighborhood I wanted. Plus, it’s 1,100 glorious square feet of newly remodeled (read no bed bugs) urban comfort. *sigh of relief*

I know I’m difficult. And as this series progresses, I’ll reveal more about how hard I am to live with.

For today, Scoundrels, tell me. Tell me your apartment hunting with a mate horror stories. Or tell me about how you breezed through the process and happily found the perfect place with no stress.

Although, I may put bodily injury to you up on a vision board if you come to me with that shit. Just sayin’.

Guest Post: Venus may be in retrograde, but she needs you.

27 Sep

This post comes from Sinn Dixie. Woooo-wee this woman’s a firecracker. Hailing from the jambalaya clutches  of our dirty South, this ex-derby gal explores the notion of independent women, the men in their lives, and preventing the chasm such a collision can leave in its wake. Weigh in and let’s get into some thirty talk.

Image courtesy of http://thesmugger.com

Someone recently told me that she was tired of being called intimidating. Many of the gals in my circle of friends get labeled the same thing. Hell, my now husband said the same thing about me about a month after I met him. Continue reading

Guest Post: Sick & Wrong? Possibly. Happy? Most Definitely

24 Sep

Today’s guest post comes to us from Jane, a TTTM reader and blogger of Jane’s Infinite Wisdom. To be honest, we don’t know much about Jane other than she has balls of steel. Jane submitted her post to give us a little glimpse into the life less ordinary. Thanks, Jane!

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll never get married. You’re one of those people destined for eccentricity, yelling at kids to get off your lawn!”

I don’t remember what I said to my best friend to illicit that response but I do remember it stung enough to be able to recall it nearly 20 years later.

image courtesy of http://engagements.ca

I think I tried to get married just to spite her. I spent most of my 20’s locked in a relationship even though it didn’t feel right and I lived my life as though I was already a suburban mundane despite the fact that he and I didn’t live together, or near one another for that matter, most of the time. Once the proposal happened and the wedding planning began in earnest though, I freaked out. I ended the relationship over the silliest possible reason and walked away with a sigh of relief. Had texting been available back then, I likely would have been one of *those* people. Fortunately, my moral standing was somewhat upheld in that I was forced to do it by telephone.

Continue reading

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