The RN: Dating Coworkers ... or ... Not ... Ever ... Never Ever

Okay, I have a rule about dating coworkers; it's very simple: I DON'T!

I don't date coworkers. I don't former coworkers. I don't date future coworkers. End. Of. Story.

Now admittedly not dating future coworkers can be a little harder since I can't really predict the future, but you get the idea. Mainly, as I've said before, this is because I want to maintain a professional appearance at work and because work is for working not for fucking.

Listen up, Ken, and everyone else.
(Borrowed from Quit or Not.)

I have recently switched jobs. Go me. Things are much better and I'm back to doing something I love and am really good at. Okay enough work talk, that's not what this blog is about. But, the job change has created some attention (50+ FaceBook likes - I think that's a record for me) and caused quite a few people who normally don't keep ... super in touch? ... with me to reach out to say, "Congrats!" Which is totally awesome, for the most part.

Of course, one of the people to reach out was Pajama Guy. If you recall this guys was both an Awkward Friend, "an old manger type", and married with kids. This guys has so many strikes against him, the rest of the team has stopped batting. Just ugh. And also:

All of the NO!
(Borrowed from FedUpUSA.)

BUT, that's not even the worst. I found out two of my old coworkers were taking bets on whether I was ... um ... dating ... one of my other coworkers. DAMN IT! This is exactly why I don't date coworkers. I politely (at least I hope it was politely - I may have been a little worked up at this point) reiterated I don't date coworkers. I was told the bettors took this into account. To which I replied: they didn't take it into account enough; it's not a flexible rule.

Damn Millennials! Do more work and less talking!
(Borrowed from Comedy Central.)

Just to be clear, if I met you at work - you have no chance. Not sorry I'm not sorry. Those are the breaks.

The RN: On "Smile"

After my last blog, a few people started sending me stuff about being told to smile. Apparently, I'm not the one who's sick of hearing this crap. Here is some of the stuff people sent me.

The Dirty Little Secret sent me this link:

Why are women so 'unhappy'?

The obsession with our happiness is troubling. But maybe dissatisfaction is a fairly normal reaction to injustice.

The Slow Dancer texted me this pic:

Yes, this.

One of my other friends posted this list on FB:

47. Being told to “smile” by a stranger. How about we tell you to go f*ck yourself? That’ll make us smile.

This article takes a more serious note, but actually reinforces what I was saying my last blog. You are not the decider of me:

“Smile, baby”: The words no woman wants to hear

Telling women to "smile" may seem a small thing -- until you consider what often happens when women don't want to.

It's possible this article was written by my doppelgänger. Really, I think she said everything I was thinking:

CHICK CHAT: It Is Not A Man’s Job To Demand Women To Smile

A man telling a woman to smile isn’t for her benefit, it’s for his benefit! Me not smiling doesn’t mean Nationwide isn’t on my side, or I won’t save 15 percent or more on car insurance by switching to Geico.
...
Do not tell me to smile! I am a grown woman who deals with adult issues and while 80 percent of the time my life is grand, I’m allowed the other 20 percent to be angry, sad, or any other emotion but happy and I don’t need to front about it.

At least this guy gets it:

‘I Stopped Telling Women to Smile
(and You Should, Too)’

DAMON YOUNG REFLECTS ON AN EXPERIENCE THAT MADE HIM GET RID OF AN ANNOYING HABIT

The point of all of this is simple; it's my choice when I smile. If you happen to catch one, be glad it was genuine. Those are the special ones.

Happiness and smiling aren't the same thing.

The RN: I Get to Be in Charge of Me

This started to come up in the last blog, but I get to be in charge of me. I get to decide what to do with my time.  I get to decide what mood I'm in. I get to decide who I see. I get to decide what I eat. I get to decide to what I wear. And I get to decide who I fuck. Even if you don't agree with my choices. They are not your choices to make; they are mine. This is not about feminism, although I suppose in some ways it is feminism. This is about being in charge of myself.

I have the power of choice in my own life.

The last several months, I have been getting madder and madder at seemingly innocuous comments. I know these people mean well, but in the end what they are doing is saying what they want is more important than what is happening with me. One of the most pervasive comments is, "Smile." Why? I'm not in a smiling mood or I would already be smiling. Just because you want me to be happy every time you see me doesn't mean that I actually am. And you know what? That's okay. I don't have to be happy every second. I am allowed to have other emotions.

Sometimes, after I get told to smile, I do smile. Frequently this is because I was in my own head and I'm fine to smile. Other times it just seems easier than arguing about it. This almost always fails, because it leads to the next command, "No a real smile. Not a fake one." Jesus. Fucking. Christ. Leave me alone. I am clearly not in a good mood. Also. You. Are. Not. Fucking. In. Charge. Of. Me.

 I don't have to smile if I don't want to. (Photo credit)

And maybe when you walk by my office and I'm staring at my computer, it's concentration not anger you're seeing on my face. Maybe I'm actually doing my fucking job instead of being eye candy for you. You know because that's what I get paid to do. And maybe if I decide to quit my job to take one that better suits my long term career goals and is 1/5 the commute, it actually has nothing to do you with you. And you really aren't allowed to be mad me for "abandoning you". Because maybe, just maybe, I am making decisions for myself and I get to be the decider. Because I am in charge of me.

Blatantly stolen from Facebook.

And my choices are about making me a happier, better person. And not about making you feel better at the expense of who I am and how I feel.

The RN: Trying to Stay Broken Up

Time for a little catch up. I have sadly been remiss in keeping up posting here this year.

Sorry.

You may have noticed, from several of the posts at the end of last year, I was a little ... pissy about most of the guys I was talking to. So, sometime between Nov and Jan I cut everyone off. Or maybe I just cut myself off.

You're cut ... and you're cut ... and everyone's cut. I'm done here.

Why? You ask. Well, even though everyone who was left were really more of hook ups than dates, I felt ... used. I realize hooking up is by nature about calling texting and seeing if you can get together, but there needs to be some respect. This is a perfect example. In retrospect, I realize I was lot more upset by the premise than the actual words. Although the "slurping cum" line does come out of nowhere, I'm not really that offended by it. What I am offended by, however, is the assumption that 1) I have no life and will be available because he's drunk and horny, 2) even if I do happen to be doing something, I should drop it and come fuck him, and 3) his getting to have drunk sex is more important than anything else going on in my life.

Not how I spend my time. (Borrowed from tumblr.)

You hear all about how society objectifies women, but I guess I never really thought about it. Until this past winter. It's one thing when you see ads, or whatever, objectifying women. I didn't really think about it because most of the people I know don't actually objectify women. But, in last few weeks I've had a couple of guys from last fall reach out to me. One was almost angry that I wasn't talking to him anymore. Like I'm not allowed to make my own choices. The other one reached out like we had talked last week instead of almost 6 months ago.

While neither was outright mean, both showed a lack of respect for my choice to not continue talking to them. I don't think I've ever had someone, let alone two people, show such an refusal to accept the situation.

The RN: Love's Day

I meant to post this on or near Valentine's Day, but life. And I somehow missed posting for all February :(

For past 3 years, I've been single on Valentine's Day. Three years ago, I didn't know what to do with myself and was possibly freaking out a little bit. Never fear, TWS to the rescue! We went out on an "Anti-Valentine's Day" date. We went to non-romantic restaurant and saw The Grey. It was awesome and just what I needed.

Best Valentine's Day Movie Ever!

We went out again last year and saw Identity Theft instead of a romance.

Another Great Valentine's Day Movie!

This year we were all set to go out for Valentine's Day again, until my old roommate decided to get married in FL over Valentine's Day weekend. So, I got to travel through Pax to FL for a great wedding.

Originally, The PoolBoy and I were set to fly down on Thursday afternoon and it looked like there would be a break in the weather long enough for us to get out. However, by 9am our flight had been cancelled. Shortly thereafter another friend of mine (let's call her Boobles) texted me her flight from a nearby airport had been cancelled as well ... after she got to the airport. So I told her to get to my house since The PoolBoy and I had decided to rent a car and drive down there. To be fair The PoolBoy was the best man so it's not like we were going to miss the wedding if at all possible.

So at just after noon on Thursday The PoolBoy, Boobles, and I got in a car a drove 16+ hours through the winter storm to get to FL and make the wedding. And it was well worth it. Unfortunately, both Boobles and I both had to work on Friday morning :(

We had only rented the car for 24 hours, so in the middle of working I took a break to return the car. I went across the street to The PoolBoy's hotel to grab the keys from him and take the car back. While I was grabbing the keys and noticing all the groomsmen were luckily hanging out the pool instead of work, one of the other groomsmen gave me a hug hello. And then I was on my way to the airport to return the car. As I was turning in the car, the rental agent wished me a Happy Valentine's Day. I stopped and said, "Oh, that's right, it's Valentine's Day." The agent looked at me in shock and asked, "Didn't you get anything for today? A pretty girl like you shouldn't be ignored today." I replied, "Um, I'm here for a wedding ... one of the groomsmen gave me a hug." He told me then that was okay. And I went about returning the car.

That was the only acknowledgement of Valentine's Day I had. Now I'm not really one of those anti-Valentine's Day people (despite what it sounds like at the beginning of this blog), but part of me sees how it can be lonely for those us not in a relationship. And in some ways it was odd to be in the middle of a weekend celebrating my friends' love and be alone on a day where everyone some people are obsessed with love. The last couple of years I have been little like this about Valentine's Day:

Please just leave me alone.

This year it was largely just lost in the crowd of things I had going on. I feel like that's a healthy-ish place to be in. I'm not dwelling on it, but it's not getting to me either. And honestly, I have spent Valentine's Days when I was in a relationship more lonely than I was this year. Cheers, to being in a better place :)

The Rn: Vegas Baby

Las Vegas, Baby!

A couple of weekends ago, a bunch of us went to Las Vegas to celebrate a pair of birthdays. The DLS and her college roommate (DCF) have birthdays about 4 weeks apart and this year was the big 3-0. So clearly a Vegas trip was in order. In all, we had up to 11 people out partying.

My sister (RNSis) and I arrived on Thursday night since we know a bunch of people in Vegas. On Thursday night and Friday, we hung out with a couple of our college friends one of who had to work through most of the festivities (RNCF2) and one who joined us for some of the fun (RNCF1) even though she's pregnant - yeah, my friends are that awesome.

Somehow on Thursday night, while visiting RNCF2 at her job, I got talked into riding a mechanical bull. On a Thursday. At like midnight (or 3am my time zone). While I was the DD. And yet no one was surprised I did it. Hm, not too worried about that. The resulting bruise was less than pleasant, but, meh, it was just a bruise.

On Friday morning, I was digging through my suitcase getting ready to go hang out, when I noticed I may not have done a stellar packing job. And by that I mean I packed 4 bras and 0 pairs of underwear for the weekend. Um, that's not really going to work. Quickly, we added Victoria's Secret to the day's shopping list. Then RNCF2, RNCF1, RNSis, and I all went and got mani-pedis, because we decided to spoil ourselves. Then we grabbed lunch with the addition of RNCF1's dad - because he's awesome. Then we went shopping. Let's hear it for Victoria's Secret's Semi Annual Sale; I was able to grab all the underwear I needed out of the clearance bin.

$4 a piece? Yes, please!

Next, I had to wash all the undies in the sink, because eew! gross! those were in the clearance bin. Fortunately, TWS's hotel-mate X had randomly grabbed some laundry soap at CVS on the way from the airport. Of course, I was on a time crunch. So undies washed, then me washed ... and shampooed ... and shaved. Because we were headed out to Sapphire for some fun.

Hello there.

Well only the girls, the two husbands went to go gamble while we were busy ogling. We had a blast. We also quickly realized who really spends a lot of money in these places, and let me tell you we weren't it. Apparently, there is a certain ... portion? ... of the population willing to pay large sums of money for male attention. If I wanted a guy to grind on me and grab me, I'd go to a (night) club or get back on OKC. Regardless, TWS and I conspired to get the DLS up on stage with cutest stripper for public lap dance. Don't regret it for a second.

The next day a few of us went to Sephora, and I got talked into buying more makeup. I mean I did want some lipstick, since we sort of skipped that in the first round, but then I got talked into some more eye shadow too. Which, of course, I have used since Vegas, so I shouldn't be complaining about because it's awesome. And I love the lipstick too. As TWS would put it, "Le sigh."

Then we went to an awesome steak house for the big birthday dinner. Great food. Better company. A little drama. Sounds about right.

Then we went to the club for bottle service. It was fun, really fun. Especially watching my sister go out for the first time since she had her first kid. Yeah, that's right, there are normal, child-bearing people in my family; I'm just not one of them. Plus after hanging with her husband all of last summer, it was time to put her through the wringer.

Family torture device.

I made out with a French guy at the club. Who was pleasantly aggressive; if not the best kisser. I may not be big on makeup, but I am pretty sure his goal was to eat all the lipstick off my face. Still, it was nice to have some harmless fun. After a bit of drama (don't slap people in the club; it's not nice) and a bit of miscommunication, X, TWS, RNSis, and I left the club and decided to play in the Casino for a bit. Nothing serious just a few nickel slots to entertain ourselves. Shortly there after we were joined by Lily just hanging out having some fun, still in our club dresses.

And that's how we meet the Canadians. That and the declared craziest line of the weekend, "We're from Michigan; we fuck Canadians all the time." Well, okay then, just like that 4 (of 8 we later found out) Canadians were down without hanging out most the night, like it wasn't already 5am. Gotta love Vegas time. Even though none of us are from MI. A few grew up there, but not all of us.

Something like this, I guess.

A few of those Canadians even got lucky over the course of the weekend. Alas, this was not my year; things didn't quite line up for me to hookup with anyone this time around. I was on the hookup bandwagon last year. Pretty sure I never caught that guy's real name; sorry Mom.

And that pretty much sums up the trip. Most of the drama got worked out before we left, the rest of it got cleared up over the next couple days. Well, except for the part where TWS's ride home from the airport ditched her there. Fortunately, my flight wasn't landing too much later than hers and her place is on my way home from the airport.

It was almost a drama free weekend ... almost.

The RN: Porn is Supposedly Ruining our Relationships ... Again ... Still?

Happy New Year!

So, this was supposed to be the last post of 2013, but I got lazy and now it's the first post of 2014.

It seems like every few months there's a round of posts on FaceBook about how porn is ruining our relationships. The latest round on my news feed started with this one. I get it and sometimes I even sort of agree with it. If you spend all day looking at porn stars and your  girlfriend doesn't even like blow jobs, you're bound to be disappointed. Also, go find a girl who likes to give blow jobs.

I get frustrated with these articles placing all the blame on porn. I do agree there are some guys people out there who really do have an issue with porn, but it's not every Tom, Dick, and Jane. I think the real issue is communication. Porn is porn; it's been around since forever. It's not going away, because people enjoy being turned on.

Sure porn can create unrealistic expectations. Not every girl can take it raw up the ass 10 seconds after she walks in the door. And even if she can, doesn't mean she wants to. And that's where the communication comes in. So you want her to take it raw up the ass 10 seconds after she walks in the door? Why? What about that turns you on? Maybe, she can will do the part that turns you on. Maybe. But you need to communicate to find the line. You need to know yourself and be okay with talking about what you want. Otherwise, you can't expect your partner to know what you want.

I've made this mistake. I'm sure many people have made this mistake. I know I made it with The Ex. Shocking, I know, but The Ex and I had communication issues. Lots of them. I feel like every time I tried to talk to him about my needs we ended up arguing. Sex related or not, this was us:

"I'm right; you're wrong!"

But, I digress. Okay so I can see how porn can create possibly unrealistic expectations for sex within a relationship. But that doesn't make porn bad. It just means you have to have realistic expectations. Of yourself and of your partner and of your relationship.

I think we need to look at the other side of the equation though. Porn, by far, is something we associate with guys. Guys watch porn and get unrealistic ideas, or so the story goes. But it's not just porn that's creating unrealistic expectations. So assuming we agree porn is influence guys; what is influencing girls to have unrealistic expectations? My answer: romance novels/trashy novels/brain candy.

To over simplify, the plot of every one of these books is: 

• Boy and girl meet
• Boy and girl hate each other and fight all the time, but only because they secretly are perfect for one another
• Boy and girl separately realize how much they love the other one, but refuse to admit to themselves and others because they are both convinced the other one hates them
• Somehow something happens and one admits feeling, the other follows after some delay from zero to decades, depending on the "plot"
• Boy and girl live happily ever after
• Some optional amount of plot and side stories to make the story fit into a subcategory

We have girls being told love is almost immediate, it over rules all adversity, and you should be treated "like a queen" and everything wrong is his fault. Talk about unrealistic expectations. This isn't the way real relationships work. No one is always wrong and no one is always right. These books are showing girls whatever they do is the right choice and in the end the guy will discover she was right even if he didn't think so to begin with.

Oh, I almost forget the whole "electric touch" thing in romance novels. The first time (and every other time) said boy and girl touch, even in the slightest non-sexual way, they both feel a buzz or heat or tingles or some other such crap, which they have never felt with anyone else - ever. So now on top of everything else your both supposed to be able to tell the first time you touch someone. Some books even start this before the touching, when you see your match across the room/street/party/whatever. COME ON! That shit is not real! I'll give you butterflies of excitement at a new relationship, even a new hookup, or a first date. But to feel unprecedented heat or electricity without actually knowing the person? I don't believe it.

Months ago TWS and I were talking about something completely unrelated to this when she said:

• "i turned around and poof! he was there and i knew it was forever" 
  GO FUCK YOURSELF. ... even if it appears that easy, it never is. stop lyin ho.

My thoughts exactly! Real life is hard and so are real relationships. Nothing is as easy as these books are making it seem. Now some are more realistic than others, but in the end they are still the same story. I understand this is supposed to a fantasized version of life to make girls the reader happy, but I feel like we are being set up for failure. It's like the movie He's Just Not That Into You, where the whole movie is talking about sometime he just doesn't like you back. *Spoiler Alert* But then at the end of the movie, he is that into her and she gets the guy. That's not what really happens. In reality you had what you thought was a great date, and then he never texts you back.

But I maintain: porn is not ruining our relationships. And neither are romance novels. We are ruining our relationships. We are ruining them by having unrealistic expectations, by not communicating with each other, and by not actually trying to make them work. 

Or by trying too hard to make them work ... but that's another topic.