Dating in a Small Town

It's no surprise that I love country music, however it wasn't until recently that I realized that my suburban New Jersey life could actually relate to it.  Although I don't have a dog that ran away or a truck that broke down, I do live in a small town and Miranda Lambert's "Famous in a Small Town" has described how I feel about living here lately.

I live in a small town.  Specifically, there are 8,165 people in my town.  61% are single.  The female to male ratio is 10:8 and 30% of people are between 25 and 44.  There are 313 people per square mile. I'm a lawyer, you do the math because I can't.

My town is a great place with access to walking trails, a CVS, Starbucks, a local supermarket and plenty of single educated men.  While I know that there are of other towns with eligible bachelors, I prefer to date close to home because I'm lazy, gas is expensive, and I live in cluster of neighborhoods that is filled with divorced men. I can afford to date within a 2 mile radius...or so I thought.

As I mentioned, there's a supermarket within walking distance to my house.  I go in there so often that I have made friends with one of the guys who works at the deli.  He even reads my blog, or at least he claims to, presumably in an effort to impress me and get me to go out with him (hi, Mike, thanks for reading but it's still not happening).  Deli guys notwithstanding, I've seen some good looking men walk into the supermarket on occasion and recently joked to a friend that I should hang out at the supermarket to meet men.  That's the thing about jokes, they sometimes come back to bite you in the ass...


So I got an email last week from a man on Match.com who works for the corporate part of the local supermarket.  I mentioned I shop there and am friends with deli guy.  Right away he knows who I'm referring to (apparently Mike flirts with all of the customers and I'm not that special after all) so I did some recon and asked my favorite meat slicer about the Match.com guy.  After things checked out and the deli guy confirmed that the Match guy wasn't a known serial killer, I scheduled a phone call with him.

Within the first two minutes, Match guy tells me that he got a call from the manager of my specific store  earlier that day.  The manager called and said, "Oh, I heard you're going out with Emily, I know her and her mom! How great is this?! (yadda yadda yadda)" Apparently my conversation with the deli guy about the Match guy turned into the hot topic over the prepared foods counter and rumor spread amongst the supermarket employees that Match.com guy were dating, nevermind the fact that we hadn't even met. 

As it turns out, the conversation with Match.com guy was nice but not that great.  We had little in common and I didn't think our connection on the phone was enough to warrant an in person date.  No harm no foul, right?  Wrong.  

I went into the supermarket the next day.  As I walked past the deli counter, I felt all eyes on me. I turned around to see them talking and gesturing toward me. Not that I'm not a head turner, but these hoagie slingers weren't just checking me out.  It was the kind of, "Oh yeah, there's that girl who Mike said is dating the corporate guy".  Awesome. (sarcasm font)

I quickly got my essentials and proceeded to the checkout, all the while bitching on the phone to my mother that this town is too small and my frustration with the awkwardness of my shopping experience.  I can't even go to the freaking supermarket without wondering if I'm going to be the subject of the manager's phone call (which by the way, I'm totally still contemplating complaining about because really, how professional is that?!).  I felt like a celebrity, just without all the money and paparazzi and more of the gossip.  As usual, my mother tells me I'm overreacting, there are plenty of men in this town and it's a silly coincidence.  I rolled my eyes at her through the phone and say goodbye.  

As I hungup and collected my groceries, I turned around to see E, a guy I dated back in September, standing there with his kids, waving at me.  Miranda Lambert is right, everybody is famous in a small town.

What I Wear on Dates

In my last post I mentioned that I went out on a date and was wearing one of my favorite "causal yet sexy" blouses from Old Navy that I love so much.  I haven't posted pics on here for a while after a hilarious attempt by my ex-husband to get me to take this blog down which caused me to go quasi-incognito, so I thought it might be time to share some of my (headless) go-to date outfits with you.  That, coupled with the fact that I need to start clearing out the 1,463 selfies from of my iPhone camera.  Don't worry, I have a head in real life, I'm just refraining from posting it on here (and because my camera doesn't let me get a shot of both my head and my shoes so I've been opting for shoe shots).

I have a pretty casual yet classy style of dressing.  I never buy anything too trendy or revealing and dress fairly conservatively.  If I want a date to know that I'm looking for action, I believe it's best for my personality, wit and wandering hands to communicate that, not my outfit.  That said, I have been known to sport some cleavage now and then.

Below is a smattering of my date outfits, starting with the summer.  You might notice the progression from meatball to SlimJim in these pics, as I dropped almost 15 lbs since then.  You might also notice that my hips are here to stay.  Awesome (sarcasm font) but at least they're more toned now.  And yes, these pics have all been through an Istagram filter.  I've found that Instagram "Amaro" lightened up these pictures perfectly.  I'm also too cheap to get Photoshop and everyone knows Instagram makes you look like a model.

This pic is from the summer on a date with DJ (I wrote about him here and here).  I was probably overdressed because he liked to wear graphic tees and cargo shorts and take me to dinner buffets, but at least I looked cute.  He's 6'2" so I rocked these 4" wedges on almost every date.

Dress: Old Navy, Wedges: Anne Klein

I wore this outfit on a date with a guy named Eric from Match.com.  It was nothing to write home about, so I didn't.  We had a nice time grabbing drinks at a local upscale bar and then played pool at his blue collar men's club down the street.  He was probably the only man belonging to the club who had never worked an hourly wage job in his life.  It was a fun date but he never contacted me...possibly because I beat him in shuffleboard and wasted his money playing country songs on the electric jukebox.

Blouse: Joe Fresh, Pants: American Eagle, Necklace: Stella and Dot

I wore this shirt with jeans out on a date with a litigator from Match.com.  He was nice enough, aside from the fact that I felt like I was being interrogated all night.  We went on two dates but there was no chemistry.  We shared dating horror stories over beers.  He also blogs but declined an offer to guest blog.  He spent 20 minutes lamenting about how gets depressed living in NYC because he isn't part of a couple and has no one to go to brunch with on Sunday mornings.  It was like that How I Met Your Mother Episode where Marshall and a man friend go on bro dates for brunch.

Top: Gap, Pants pictured: Gap, Jeans worn: Banana Republic

Do you remember Mr. Big, the foot fetish guy?  As is sometimes the case, he came with more drama than I posted about.  He tried to weasel himself back into my life this summer so I met him for lunch.  It was one of those "You could have had this but didn't because you're a douchebag who drives an expensive car to compensate for your, um, shortcomings" type of dates.  We had lunch at an upscale restaurant and I wore this dress.  The picture doesn't do it justice but it hugs my curves in just the right way, so that when I sashayed my ass out of the place, leaving him to go home alone, he was cursing himself.  Every woman needs a dress like this.

Dress: Banana Republic, Shoes: Aldo

I wore this outfit on a Wednesday night to meet a guy from Plenty of Fish for drinks.  He was normal and cute and we hit it off.  He had a great sense of humor but after a second date, I realized that under the sarcastic facade, there wasn't much else.

Blouse: Old Navy, Jeans: Banana Republic, Necklace: Stella and Dot, Wedges: Payless (don't judge me, they're awesome and comfy)

If you're thinking this outfit looks similar to the one above, you're right.  It's the exact same thing except the shirt is teal (looks blue in the photo but it's teal in real life).  I freaking love these shirts. They're from Old Navy, wash and wear well (except for the one I had in purple that got a hole in it) and show enough cleavage while simultaneously hiding a post-beer muffin top.

I wore this outfit on a second date to the movies.  I don't like the movies and have no idea why I agreed to a second date at the movies. Even worse, my date wanted to see the Twilight movie, which was surprisingly good (shirtless werewolves make any movie better).  My date thought that the previews were a good time to kiss me for the first time.  Oh yeah baby, slobber on me in a crowded theater full of teenyboppers.  Needless to say, it was a last date.

Blouse: Old Navy, Jeans: Banana Republic, Necklace: Stella and Dot, Wedges: Payless

I wore this for my first date with Thunder Thighs.  We went to a restaurant and got drinks.  It was an awesome first date, but the proceeding ones weren't as good.  I've actually had a lot of luck wearing this top on dates.  I also wore it on my second date with Batman.

Tank: Old Navy, Cardigan: Target (I have it in black too, love this cardigan!), Jeans: American Eagle

I have no idea when I wore this outfit but if I say it was a first date out for drinks I would have about a 95% chance of getting it right.  Apparently I was going for a biker-chic look.  

Tank: Old Navy, Jeans: Banana Republic, Jacket: NY&Co, Necklace: GroupDealz

I'm a huge fan of cowboy boots but rarely wear them out on dates.  I broke them out for dinner on a rainy night with a restaurateur I saw a few times.  He's from Virginia and doubted my ability to pull off cowboy boots.  I proved him wrong. I paired them with an off white lacy tank top and a ruffled cardigan to soften the look.

Tank: Forever21, Cardigan: Banana Republic, Jeans: American Eagle, Boots: J.B. Dillon

Afternoon dates are good too.  Not only does it save calories from alcohol (black coffee please), but they're easy to squeeze in and low pressure.  I met a web designer turned photographer out at Starbucks a couple of weeks ago.  I was going to my volunteer commitment afterward so my outfit needed to be cute enough for a date but casual enough to get snot and glitter on because I volunteer with kids.  The date was fair, worthy of a second if he hadn't been such a sad panda about his ex-wife cheating on him and his house going into foreclosure.

Tank: Old Navy (yes, same as the biker-chic look), Sweater: Gap, Jeans: Forever 21, Boots: Sam Edelman, Purse: Onna Ehrlich

This is the "casual yet sexy" shirt that I mentioned in my Date with a Gay Guy post, although this isn't the night I wore it.  I know this because I recently dyed my hair dark brown and, as you can see, I have blonde hair in this pic.  This is probably a pic from another date.  Since these are my go-to outfits, I sometimes wear them more than once.  Different people, different places, shhh don't tell that I wear repeats! Anyway, I love this shirt (so much that I have it in an orange color that for some reason I've never worn) because it's soft, falls nicely and has a sexy satiny feel to it.

Top: Old Navy, Pants: Banana Republic, Necklace: Stella and Dot, Bracelets: Francesca's from years ago

So there you have it, pictures of me and an idea of what I look like as I'm wow'ing potential life partner candidates.  You may have also realized that it's possible to make cheap clothes look good.  I'm all about not breaking the bank while getting free meals and drinks.

My Date With a Gay Man

Last Wednesday I went out with a man who had great potential.  He was divorced with one kid, according to his Match profile, and working for a great company, as he had explained in our emails.  He grew up in the country, works in the city and loves to hunt.  His family ancestry isn't Italian (hard to come by in New Jersey) so I knew I didn't have a fist pumping guido on my hands.  He was tall and cute with nerdy hipster glasses and I was psyched!

We were meeting for dinner so I had on one of my fabulously casual yet sexy blouses that looks like it's from anywhere other than Old Navy.  I got there on time and received a text that he was running a few minutes late but would be the man in the green jacket.  Considering I had "met" him on Match and already knew what he looked like, I found this fashion information to be a bit gratuitous but patiently waited for my green-swathed date to arrive.

I saw him walking up to the place.  He was as tall and cute as his pictures suggested and wearing hunter-hued outerwear.  I was so excited until he threw his arms out, squealed "Hey--eyy!" and wrapped me in a bear hug.  It was at that point that my brain switched into overdrive.  I must have blacked out under a frenzied inner monologue to the tune of, "OMG-WTF-are-you-doing-you're-on-a-date-with-a-flaming-homosexual (not that there's anything wrong with that) but-OMG-how-does-this-man-not-know-he's-GAY?!" because the next thing I know, we were sitting at a table with menus in front of us and I had an awkward smile plastered over my face like an idiot.

Doing my best not to overreact, we ordered drinks and exchanged the usual first date pleasantries.  I got to hear about his job, his previous job working with recording artists (including some country A-listers) and about his time in the Army (don't ask, don't tell, anyone?).  I started to think that maybe I had overreacted.  Perhaps this is what New Jersey country boys sound like...and then he complimented me on my Cartier watch.  He spent a good chunk of time talking about fashion and clothes and how much he loved to shop. I became increasingly aware of the fact that I was wearing a top from Old Navy and quickly changed the subject.

I moved onto talking about divorce and since he had not broached the subject, I brought up his child.  His Match profile stated that he had one child who lived away from home so I wanted to get the scoop. As it turned out, he not only fathered one child, but THREE children with his ex-wife!  So much for honesty.  To add insult to injury, he was also married when he was 19 and fathered a child with that woman as well.  Technically, that child lives away from home (because he's in COLLEGE!) so I guess his profile wasn't completely misleading.

Throughout the dinner I found myself so flabbergasted that I was on a date with a man, twice divorced, with 4 children and a voice that could only be described as FAB-u-lous! Aside from the lying bit, I had a great time with him once I got over the fact that he was discussing guns and hunting in an effeminate lilt.  It was sad to me though that after two marriages and four children, he still wasn't true to himself.  Perhaps I'm wrong and he just happens to sound like the Honey Badger narrator while really loving vagina, but this Badger don't care.  Gay or not, I don't date liars.

Warning: Explicit language!

Thunder Thighs

Months ago I posted here about why I don't date men in their 20's.  Cliffs Notes: They're immature and I can't be bothered.  However, being the first person to admit that I break my own rules, I recently went out with a 28 year old from Plenty of Fish, who for the purposes of this post, I will call "28".  I decided to give him a shot because he was a nice homeowner with a great job and seemed to have his act together.  That was a mistake.

I should have realized that 28 and I weren't going to be a good fit when he jokingly called his hands his "paws" on our first date.  He said that although they weren't very large, they were rough like paws, hence the moniker.  They were quite calloused, sure, but I didn't think that he was so serious about his physique.

Aside from the comments about his hands, 28 had a penchant for making ridiculously cheesy jokes.  Although I can appreciate someone being their own brand of weird and expressing themselves, I just about died on our third (and final) date when he burst into a round of "gun" jokes that referenced his arm muscles, which, weren't even that big.

28: "Do you have a BandAid?"
Me: "Let me check, why, what's wrong?"
28: "Because I'm cut" ::flexes arm muscles

28: "Do you have any tape?"
Me: "Umm, no, why?"
28: "Because I'm ripped!" ::flexes muscles again::

Almost as big of a douche as Ryan Lochte

As though arm muscle jokes weren't bad enough, he topped off our third date by (jokingly?) calling me Thunder Thighs.  I don't care how close you are to a woman, but the words Thunder Thighs should never, ever ever ever EVER be uttered in their presence.  For some reason he seemed unaware of that fact that this was an insult and got annoyed that I took offense to his comment.  When I told him that his comment upset me, I complained that I was "ruining the day".  The last man who told me I ruined the day with my (justified) feelings is twice-divorced (only once by me) and still eating cereal for dinner every night.

Dating 28 wasn't a total loss though.  In addition to the Home Depot coupon for 10% off a $200 purchase that he brought me for the light fixture I've been eyeing, I ended the weekend with two kick ass jack o'lanterns, a huge batch of apple crisp and roasted pumpkin seeds from our apple and pumpkin picking date yesterday.

28 might have been a douchebag, but Thunder Thighs came out on top!

Happy Divorce Anniversary to Me!

Today marks a year to the day when I walked up to the courthouse flanked by my supportive parents to officially end my marriage.  The first time I had faced my ex-husband since I had sprung a divorce on him like a trip to Disney World (sure honey, I'll come over at 8. ::ding dong, process server!::).  I remember that day like it was both yesterday and a lifetime ago.

I remember agonizing over what to wear to the courthouse, as I wanted to look fabulous but professional the last time I saw the man I was divorcing, lest he forget what a fine piece of ass an amazing woman, 11 years his junior, he was losing.  My parents told me he had worn the cuff links from our wedding (nice touch) when he came to talk to them and ask them to ask me to reconsider my decision (really now?).  Those cuff links that less than two years earlier had received a marital blessing were now witnessing my mother's infamous "Screw You" speech, calm and nonthreatening with just the right amount of Jewish guilt.

It took all of my self control not to scoff at the judge when he asked whether there was any hope for reconciliation and then let out a "Woohooooo!" when he announced we were officially divorced.  My mother and I celebrated with sangria, courtesy of my amazing attorneys and, later that night, we commemorated the event with members of our golf club over Blow job Shots.  Note: The proper way to announce that you're doing morally questionable shooters in a country club is not to announce, "I'm doing blow jobs tonight!" 

Blow job Shot, no hands necessary

A year ago, people told me that trite adage, "This is the first day of the rest of your life!" that you hear at every momentous occasion.  Between 3 graduations, a wedding, a GTFO (Get the Eff Out) day and a divorce day, I ought to have relived my the first day of my life more times than a cat.  But this time it was true.  Something was different, and it wasn't just my ability to have a good sex life.

Over the past year I lost 182 pounds of baggage (plus 10 of my own, thankyouverymuch) and I've gained back my identity.  As it turns out, there was a pretty fabulous woman lurking under the shadow of her husband!  I became a woman who knows no bounds, who isn't afraid to speak her mind (anonymously and in vague terms) and who knows that she deserves so much better than what she settled for.  Thanks to the support of my family and friends, I have an amazing life with so much ahead of me.

Happy Divorce Anniversary to Me!

Best. Date. Ever. (Kidding) aka The Night I Ditched My Date for Another Dude at the Bar

Several months ago I went on a date with a man who was separated at the time and going through the divorce process.  Although I was breaking my "No dating men who aren't yet divorced" rule, he said they had been separated for a while and were just working out the legal kinks of their custody order.  Having experienced the hassle of legal kinkery (no, not that kind), I threw caution to the wind and agreed to meet him.

He told me he would be coming from court, as he and his soon-to-be-ex-wife would be duking it out over their kids that day.  Awesome.  Putting my better judgment aside, I showed up and hoped that he would be in a good mood, as meeting someone after an appearance in Family Court is like playing a game of Russian Roulette.  When I showed up, he was sitting at the bar, halfway through his vodka rocks.  This is the point when I should have realized that I was dealing with a nightmare and bolted.

Instead, I politely asked how his day was, expecting him to give a reciprocal polite but vague answer then move on to more appropriate first date topics like politics, religion, abortion, or anything other than your divorce proceedings.  Instead he took it as carte blanche to air his dirty divorce laundry through another couple of drinks. After his third drink, he started referring to his soon-to-be-ex-wife as "that effing c-u-n-t" (because spelling it out is not only offensive but leads porn spammers to my blog).

To add insult to injury, my date then proceeded to tell me how much money he made, how he was the most interesting man on Earth, and other things arrogant people like to say that I try to tune out.  The fact that he was a Jets fan and drove a Japanese truck put me over the edge. I needed a reprieve.  What I really needed was to leave, but sometimes I'm to polite for my own good (yes, really).

I excused myself and headed to the bathroom.  On my way there, I was approached by a cute man I had seen sitting near us.  Having heard my boisterous date brag about himself all the way across the bar, he laughed and asked me how my date was going.  I told him it could only be better if he had a gun with which I could shoot myself in the foot as an excuse to leave.  As it turns out, he was a cop and did have a gun, but more on that later.  He told me to ditch my date and join his group for a beer.  I wish...

When I returned from the bathroom my date decided that it was his turn and I realized that I had been sitting next to a member from my parent's golf club the entire time.  He turned to me, laughed and asked me how my date was going.  Thanks for the encouragement, buddy!

After what seemed like eons but was really just another half hour, I threw out the old, "Should we get out of here?" cue to leave.  My date quickly took out his bill fold, stuffed to the brim with discount club cards and hundred dollar bills, paid and we left.  With an awkward hug goodbye, he got into his car, dropped the convertible top down (in 50 degree weather because he's THAT awesome) and let me walk to my car alone.  Best. Date. Ever.  (Kidding)

Determined not to let the night suck completely, I hauled my ass back to the bar and sat down in front of the bartender.  He took one look at me and burst out laughing (no surprise).  You know you're on a bad date when the bartender comes up to you after, laughs in your face and buys you a beer.  Sidebar: I love bartenders.  They're freaking awesome.  Some of my favorite people are bartenders. Ok, so that's not 100% true, but I do really like bartenders.  I just have to say they're my favorite people because some of them know more secrets about me than most of my friends. 

While I was making fast friends with the bartender, the cute guy from the bathroom came over, bought me another beer and laughed at me (again, no surprise).  He and his friends had taken bets on how long my Best. Date. Ever. would last.  Apparently, my date was the only who in the bar who didn't realize how bad the date had been.  This was evidenced by the call I received from him 10 minutes after he left asking me out again for the next night.  I respectfully declined.  

I ended up joining the cute cop's table.  He was with a group of friends, all in their 40's, having a "Guy's Night Out" who were happy to have a borderline-inappropriate hot young thang (my words, not theirs) entertain them with my dating horror stories and thoughts on happy ending massages (just say no, because that's gross and you're married, so it's also pathetic).  I spent a couple hours with them and had a blast.  The cute cop from the bathroom was recently divorced and we had a nice time flirting and laughing.

I tend never to be surprised by things that happen in my life.  My family and friends have often said to me, "Something like this would only happen to you"...and it's usually true.  Going on a date with one man and ending up giving my number to someone else, is not what I would call a normal dating story.  Strangely enough, this wasn't the first time it's happened to me, and it probably won't be the last!

Why Do I Attract Stalkers?

DJ has quickly become another one of my stalkers.  One of the men who just lacks the ability to let go. For some reason, I seem to attract nut cases.  At first I worried that "like attracts like," "birds of a feather flock together," and the other sayings that would mean that I'm crazy as well, but I'm chocking it up to bad taste in men and a great time in bed (ha, I'm kidding!  The first nut case barely even got into my pants!).  Really, it's because I continue to engage these men after they've gone off the deep end.  I need to ignore them better.  Regardless, it makes for some funny stories.

Cry Baby
My first stalker was an old high school boyfriend, Cry Baby.  In the summer after 10th grade I went away for a month on a trip to Israel and Europe.  I came back with a new perspective on life, a desire to date Jewish boys and promptly dumped him.  Cry Baby's teenaged heart was crushed and (since it was back in the pre-cell phone days) he would incessantly call my parent's house in an effort to get me to back.  He told me he wanted to hurt me and made some terroristic threats on the country where I had just visited.  One day, Cry Baby called my parents house and my brother, who is 8 years older than me and at 5'8" was significantly larger than my pint-sized former paramour, picked up the phone.  Cry Baby was crying (hence the nickname)and begged my brother (through snot rockets and hiccups) to let him speak to me.  I picked up the phone at the same time I heard my brother boom, "Stop crying you f*cking pussy!  You think I'm going to let you speak to my sister after the pathetic crap you just spewed out?!  If you bother her again, I will kill you, do you understand?!"  Have I mentioned how awesome my brother is?

ESPN
I didn't deal with another stalker until years later.  ESPN was the man I dated immediately before I met my ex-husband, who, as you might guess, worked at ESPN.  I had broken up with him but he was determined to win me back.  He spent a month calling and texting me, emailing my friends to ask them to talk to me and even told me he would have proposed if he had had a ring.  It got so bad that a law school friend who used to work for the FBI, offered to get me a gun for protection.  Thankfully, I was living over an hour away and didn't feel the need for a firearm.   ESPN finally stopped harassing me when I got engaged to my ex-husband, a mere 3 and a half months after our breakup (I know, I know...)

Ex-Husband
My ex-husband was another one who just couldn't let go.  This likely had more to do with the fact that I sprung our divorce on him like it was a surprise trip to Disney World than anything.  That, and the fact that we were married and had vowed to spend our lives together, he presumably loved me very much.  But since actions speak louder than words, we'll go with the surprise factor for the reason he couldn't let go.  I won't divulge too much (you know, because I'm nice and/or because I've blocked out the entire messy divorce process from my memory) but he actually had the nerve to ask my parents (in the courthouse, immediately before our divorce hearing) if they could get me to reconsider my decision.  Dude, let it go.

Teacher
Teacher was someone I dated for a few weeks in October.  He was a single dad of 2 daughters and a high school English teacher. I told him I wasn't ready for anything serious, as I was just starting to date after my divorce.  I'm very into baking and arts and crafts and had given him some good ideas about things to do with his girls.  I told him that I was baking a cake in the shape of a turkey for Thanksgiving because my nephew loves it (I'm not going to lie, I do too, it's a freaking awesome cake mould!).  Then he tells me how excited he was that we would be spending Thanksgiving together--me, him and his kids.  Umm, WTF?!  I quickly ended things after I realized that he wanted an instant wife, step mom and mother (for himself) all in one.  He freaked out and sent me the most grammatically correct scathing emails that I was overwhelmingly impressed and scared at the same time.  I ended up filtering his emails, threatening a restraining order and commenting that a restraining order might affect both his teaching job and his custody situation.  He emailed me a few months after to apologize and ask to grab some coffee.  Umm, no.


BR
I wrote about BR here and here and a few other places that I'm too lazy to link to.  He begged for a second chance and I gave it to him even though I wasn't really feeling a connection.  Fast forward and I realized he was relationship stupid and I was attracted enough to him to fix it.  He didn't go off the deep end, per se, but he wrote me email novellas as to why we would be good together, how he could change, how my feelings weren't justified, etc.  He finally stopped when I ignored enough of these emails and deleted him off Facebook.  Just last month though, he sent me a Facebook message congratulating me on the Bar Exam and making a comment on how we should get back together.  No thanks.


DJ
I worried that DJ would also go off the deep end, as he seem unsatisfied with how I broke things off.  He seemed like a very even keeled man though so I sent him a final email explaining some things I hadn't previously mentioned and how they were non-negotiable for me.  I stated that this would be the last of the discussion and wished him luck.  Surprisingly, it was not the end of the discussion for him.

He told me that he respected my decisions but wanted to argue his way and change my mind.  Umm, WTF?!  That's no where near respecting my decision.  I continued to ignore his emails and text messages and hoped it would go away...until yesterday.  I was out with friends when I received a call from a florist.  My heart sank.  I knew that DJ had sent me flowers.  For a man who claims to have paid attention to me, he must have zoned out on the conversation in which I told him, "I do NOT like flowers.  They shed and die and smell.  I especially dislike roses.  I think they're an overpriced waste of money.  Please never get me flowers."  Of course, he got me flowers, lots of them, with roses.  The arrangement was topped with a pleading note and about a zillion "xoxo's" before his name.

"One drink is all I ask :) xoxoxo :insert name here:"

That wasn't the end of it though.  A few hours after the call from the florist, DJ called, asking about the flowers.  I sent the call to voicemail and I thanked him via text. I told him there was nothing to discuss and wished him luck.  He called again and was sent to voicemail.  Dude, get the message already!  

He then proceeded to berate me via text message and email about how I'm a terrible evil person and how he at least deserves an explanation as to why we can't live happily ever after together.  "I at least deserve to sit down with you for a drink," he texted.  My response, "The only thing you deserve at this point is a padded room and a restraining order.  Leave me alone!"

The Reason that Hindsight is Pretty Funny

Today it's been a year.  A year since I made a decision that would change my life.  A year from what I now joke was the best career move I ever could have made.  A year since I moved back in with my parents and once again heard, "This is the first day of the rest of your life".  Today marks a year since I found myself crying in my divorce attorney's office, check in hand and signing a petition for divorce.

If you don't know the story behind the demise of my marriage, ask someone who knows me in real life because I'm not one to air my dirty, discarded, aging laundry.  It doesn't matter though.  I can say that I married the wrong person, the man I married wasn't the man I dated or that things just didn't work out.  I'm sure if you ask my ex, he will tell you a different story.  But really, it just doesn't matter.

Today I find myself a much stronger woman than I ever imagined possible.  Emotionally, physically and spiritually.  Ask my friends and family who were too afraid to tell me about the shell of a person I had become when I was married and see if they can find that woman today.  I've changed from an unemployed, meek and indecisive person who walked on eggshells and never left the house to a successful, go-getting and independent woman.  Not to mention a whisky-drinking, cowboy-chasing hell of a time!  (It's a song, Mom, I'm not an alcoholic!)

I started this blog as a cathartic release when I realized through my divorce, that there are two options in life: you can laugh or you can cry.  Personally, I think laughing is much better.  Aside from toning your abs and keeping your mascara in check, laughing is way more fun than crying.  I wrote a story to this effect in my "About Me" section.  It's about the day I filed for divorce and I will include it here because it's my blog and I can do whatever I want (ha!) but also because it's the story of what happened a year ago today and is the impetus behind this blog.

My GTFO (Get the Eff Out) Story
Last year on June 6,  I left the divorce attorney's office with my mother and went back to my marital home to collect some belongings of mine.  Time was of the essence so I chose only the most important things and quickly packed up the essentials--a few suitcases of clothes, my passports and birth certificate, the boudoir pics I took for my ex (there was no way I was leaving nudie pics in the custody of a pissed off soon-to-be-ex-husband with access to the internet), the diaper cake I had made for my best friend's baby shower that next weekend (I had spent way too much time to leave that behind) and our two boxers.

We took off with suitcases in the trunk, the dogs in the backseat and my mother in the front.  My mother and I were in shock.  I had just filed for divorce, left my husband without him knowing and escaped to my parents house.  We were both scared and crying.  The stress in the car was palpable and the dogs sensed it.

As I was driving down the highway, the 60 pound boxer could take it no longer.  Shaking, he climbed into my mother's lap for comfort.  For those of you who don't know my mother, suffice it to say that she's not a dog person and a 60 lb boxer sitting in her lap while she was crying about the demise of my marriage and uncertainly about my future, was not exactly ideal.  She tried to get him off and to return to the back seat but he was having none of it.  She pushed and coaxed him, but just he sat there shaking and rooted to her lap.

Never one to be left out on the fun, the 30 pound boxer puppy (that the ex and I had gotten a couple months before) jumped up front as well.  She joined her doggy brother on my mother's lap and my mother, in between sobs, tried to now get both dogs off of her lap and into the back seat.  The bigger of the two dogs decided to reposition himself so his front paws were on the passenger floor, giving the puppy some more room on my mother's lap....and my mother a front row seat to his asshole.

In between hysterical sobs, I looked over to see my mother, buried under 90 pounds of dog, with the "brown starfish" of one pooch sticking up at her face and another pup alternating between licking the ass and her face.  I pulled over to the side of the road in an attempt to move the dogs but it was no use. We looked at each other and lost it.  Our tears turned to laughter.  It was the hysterical honking type of laughter where you sound like a seal and look like there's something wrong with you.  There was nothing else we could do but laugh.

I decided then that when things get tough, you can either dwell on the terrible or find something funny about it.  Rather than crying over my divorce with a face covered in snot and mascara I could laugh at my mother sitting with a dog butt in her face--sorry, Mom.  From that day on, I've always chosen the metaphorical dog butt.  I try to laugh, instead of cry, because to me, Hindsight is Pretty Funny.

Nashville Part 2: Play Something Country

I've been a bad blogger and I'm almost a month behind in posts.  In an effort to keep you entertained and to get back to blogging about my dating life, I will wrap up the remaining 3 days in Nashville with a few pictures and funny stories.  As I might have mentioned, I went to Nashville for a professional conference where I knew no one.  That's right, I decided to go to a conference alone, in a city I'd never been to, assuming that I'd meet some cool people and make some great networking connections...and that's just what I did!

The first thing I learned at my first ABA event was that lawyers love to party!  Seriously.  I had anticipated a few networking events, but nothing to the extent of what the ABA's Young Lawyers Division pulled off.  The first night there was a welcome reception at the Wild Horse Saloon, which was conveniently located next to the store where I bought my 4 pairs of boots earlier in the day.  This of course prompted me to tell everyone I met that night about the amazing sale and I was then branded the crazy girl from New Jersey who bought 4 pairs of boots in Nashville.  Which, I rationalized, is better than being known as just a crazy girl.

The Wild Horse Saloon was a blast and although I wasn't yet comfortable enough with a roomful of strangers to learn how to line dance, I did get dressed to the nines.  I knew going to the conference that the social events were "Country Snappy" attire so I packed to the best of my ability.  Knowing that I would be purchasing cowboy boots, I packed several short dresses that would be no less than freaking adorable paired with my new footwear and prayed that I wouldn't be the only one who took the dress code so seriously.  Thankfully I wasn't the only one dressed up and I found myself sucking back Jack and Cokes with lawyers from all over the country dressed in cowboy boots, cowboy hats, thick belts and plaid shirts.

I sat through some super-exciting Continuing Legal Education seminars on Friday and got done early enough to explore a bit more of Nashville.  I took a walk in my stilettos to check out the pedestrian bridge with a new friend I had made.

After a few pictures of Nashville and the beginning of a blister from my heels, I hightailed it back to the hotel to change into some more appropriate clothes for listening to live music (and cowboy chasing).  My new friend had opted to attend a diversity luncheon, which, regardless of the fact that diversity encompasses all races, I always feel strange going to, so I braved lower Broadway on my own.  I headed over to the legendary Tootsie's Orchid Lounge, where just about every country singer who is anybody has performed.

Inside Tootsie's between sets

I sidled up to the bar, ordered a beer and a pulled pork sandwich and listened to some young girl sing songs I'd never heard of.  Somewhat disappointed that this self-proclaimed country fanatic couldn't sing along, I sat back and soaked up the scene...and my Miller Lite.

It's Miller time

I was enjoying the music and had even made a new friend who was in town from Las Vegas when a fine piece of ass nice looking cowboy walked with his guitar.  I watched, and photographed, as he was setting up to sing because you never know how much US Weekly is going to pay for those "Before They Were Stars: Butt Picture Edition"...and because he had too nice of a tush not to capture.

I'm shameless, I know

The singer's name was Jake something or other.  He had a great voice, a good sense of humor, a nice ass and most importantly, he called me pretty.  This may or may not have had something to do with the fact that I was bearing crazy cleavage and had given him a big tip, but I sat there pretending that he was cursing himself for being married when he could have me on his arm.  Seriously, why are all country singers married?!

You can't see, but he's looking deep into my eyes

Jake the cutie cowboy finished his set and walked around for tips so I did what any sane woman would do.  I tipped him again (with a wink!), we took a picture together and I immediately uploaded to Facebook so my friends and family could appreciate the professional networking I was doing in Nashville.

Friday night was another night of "Country Snappy" attire but this time we had dinner and dancing at the Country Music Hall of Fame.  Naturally I would take a terrible selfie of my outfit in the mirror before dinner and then neglect to take a picture of Elvis' gold Cadillac in the Hall of Fame.  I know, I know.

The Hall of Fame was great!  Before dinner we were able to take a tour of the museum where I saw some amazing collections of costumes, cars and gold and platinum albums from the greatest country legends.  While enjoying our night of dancing, I found out that I passed the New Jersey Bar Exam which made the night even better!

Wall of Records

Saturday marked the end of the conference but not the end of my time in Nashville.  After saying goodbye to new friends and professional acquaintances that I had met, I headed out to brunch for some biscuits and gravy.  I had heard that biscuits and gravy were a southern delicacy and from the moment I had arrived I was salivating over the thought of tasting these treats.  I headed over to Puckett's and took a seat at the bar before helping myself to their buffet brunch.  I gorged myself on biscuits and gravy (to die for!), bacon, sausage and a bunch of other stuff that my mouth literally just watered thinking about (gross)...and a Bloody Mary to cure my hangover.

Hair of the dog...

By the time I finished brunch and got back to the hotel, it was time for the most exciting thing to happen--Greta (from Dating Without a Net) came to party with me!  The two of us had been sending each other excited text messages all week leading up to our meeting (because we're weirdos who met on the internet) so it was super awesome (and a relief) when we discovered that we were both normal (and totally awesome) people!  Then our other internet friend, Jessica, came to party with us and again she was normal and awesome--yay!  Greta's friend came up from Atlanta and the 4 of us hit up the town!

Just a sign, there was no soliciting, discreetly or not, done that night

So as not to incriminate anyone, the main highlights from our crazy night out include Greta kicking her shoe over a balcony at my hotel (causing me to pee in my pants--no joke, I was on the floor laughing and wetting myself), all 4 of us riding a mechanical bull (Greta and I were in skirts because we're classy like that) and a 2am trip to Waffle House where I wanted to smack everyone for being so damn friendly! We were definitely "those girls" at every bar but it was an awesome night in Nashville with great new friends and I can't wait to go back to Music City!