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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?


Bad Attitudes

24 Nov

I’ve gotten approximately 3 solid hours of sleep in the last two days. Which means that Mike has probably only gotten about half that.

Do not judge me.

Last night I refused to eat unless he went on a corn dog run.

He did it.

He did it even though he called me a dick on Sunday.  He did it even though we had yet another fight about how I hate, hate, hate the holidays. And despite the fact that I threw one of his cats out onto the balcony Saturday morning.

Yeah, I’ve had a bad attitude lately.

Today our girl Redhead Writing posted about how we should basically stop being such assholes. (Seriously oversimplified). So, I’m giving myself an attitude adjustment.

Tomorrow I’m going to get up and watch the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade, thankful that my dear friend, Phil, has had such a successful year in New York.  Then I’m going to put on my cute lace dress that Mike bought me with room in the tummy for Smokey and I’m going to stop being an asshole long enough for Mike to enjoy his Thanksgiving.

I mean, the man went out in the cold to get me a corn dog last night when I could have just eaten the delicious pasta he made.

And I am thankful. For our wonderful TTTM community here. For the fact that theVar and I have had a blast these last several months coming up with crazy stuff to say. And for all of you – readers, friends, folks that keep us accountable.

Thanks, yo!

Guest Post: Another installment of the Seth Chronicles

15 Nov

Tales from the Stripped: You’re About to Enter another Dimension: The Friend Zone.

The notion of friend-birds seems to be resonating with a lot of us scoundrels lately. There was Girlasaurus Rex, then my post on friday, and now Seth brings us his “friend” (Not sure why I put that in quotes. Oh well.)  situation(?) today. My god, people. It’s Monday, I’m still trying to get the synapses firing. Look. Just read it, and give the boy some of your sage wisdom/anecdotal evidence of why he should or shouldn’t take this friend to fuck-buddy status. Who knows? Maybe even girlfriend status?!

Something I’ve come to realize in my roller-coastery 32 years, is that I value friendship over ass these days. It’s not that I don’t value ass. I am still a breathing male with a cock, after all. But it’s just that ass is ass, and ass comes and goes. Friendship is essentially what gets you from ass to ass. I mean, if you built a brick wall of your 30’s, the bricks would be things like ass and promotions; the mortar would be friendship (and maybe family). So yep, your life is basically just a big, thick brick wall of ass. (She’s a brick… Don’t tell me you weren’t just doing the Worm to the Commodores right now. Continue reading

Pulling the plug

11 Nov

I think most of us have been there.

You’re in a relationship that was fabulous at one point, but has become lackluster. You know you’re not particularly happy in it anymore, but your lives are tangled, maybe finances are intertwined, shared living space – all the stuff that would make a break up messy and hard.

Mmmm hmmm. image courtesy of quirkyjessi

So do you stay and just hope for the best, or do you pull the plug and basically start a new life?

In my personal experiences, I’ve been through both.  I remember going half way around the world to be with a boy and it not panning out. Meh. I was young then.

Then I jumped into a relationship that lasted  8 years. There was a diamond involved, jointly-owned property, comfort, horrible treatment towards each other, dysfunction that I can’t even describe here. And I would have stayed with him forever had he not pulled the plug.

Neither one of us were happy. I was too dumb to leave, he was too “nice” to leave. Thank goodness he cheated. That way I was ready to stay gone when we broke up. Oooo and there were some awkward and somewhat hilarious moments post-break up when we were still living together and trying to untangle our lives.  I have to just look back and laugh at this point. 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

  • 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.

The dark side of co-habitation part 2: On cats, couches and sharing the covers

15 Oct

Life as I know it is about to change. In exactly one week, Mike and I sign a lease and move into our new place together.

Holy ish. *Cue panic attack.

I lurve Mike, so why panic? Well, it’s a big change from the unattached life to the land of co-habitation. I’m not really worried that we’ll have problems living together. Sure, there will be arguments and blow outs and even tender moments. It’s more that I’m losing my alone time. Where I can sit on my couch in my underwear and pluck my eyebrows while wearing a pore cleansing mask and munching on hummus and pita chips. All the while singing songs from RENT or Spring Awakening.

I can’t do that in front of Mike. Frowny face.

But we’re moving forward in our relationship, which means moving in together.  So there you have it.


image courtesy of


I have found that anytime you decide to hitch your wagon to someone’s horse, it comes with – oh, let’s just call it baggage. And my dear boyfriend just so happens to come with two rather furry, and at times infuriating  pieces of baggage: cats.

For those of you who read my personal blog, you know I have a history with these cats. And the scars to prove it.  So the idea of living with these cats full-time is one that I’m not actually all that fond of. In my head I run a cost/benefit analysis. Mike comes with the cats, and I love him enough to put up with them. Continue reading

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’.

When paths diverge

28 Sep

There are times in life where you realize that you are on a different path than all of your friends.

There you are. Alone. And it’s your choices that have gotten you there.

I realized this about myself a few weeks ago. I’ll soon be the first of most of my friends to crap out a baby. Many of the friends in my circle don’t ever intend to have kiddos. But hey, this is no sob story, I stand by my decision to start a family.

The thing is, while it seems to happen at one moment when you’ve made a huge decision for yourself, you and your friends, and all the people around you are all actually on different paths. All the time. Continue reading

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