Conversations with my Mother

Last Saturday, I awoke to six e-mails and seven text messages from my mother, along with a hyperactive and hungry puppy that wouldn't let me sleep in. All texts and e-mails were wedding related.

I cursed the moment I showed her how to work her e-mail and text pictures.

Instead of replying (really, I should know better), I just hoped that I could ignore these as long as humanly possible. Ideally, until after the wedding was over and done with.

Three missed calls and a facebook message later, I knew I had to answer the phone at some point prior to the wedding, or else my mother's next line of defense was going to be facebook messaging my fiance so that he could get me to call her. I picked up my phone and dialed for torture.

"Hi mom, is everything ok?" I asked in hopes that she wasn't calling me to discuss something wedding-related.

Little did I know, it wasn't wedding related. It was something worse.

"Oh, yeah. What are you up to?" she replied.

"Nothing. Just sitting here with the pup. You know, my usual."

"I see. Did you see the e-mails I sent you at 2 AM?"

"Haven't had a chance to read them," I replied cringing at my blatant lie. "What are you up to?"

"I'm here at the mall. You won't believe who I just ran into."

"Oh no"

"Oh yes"

"No, no, no, no, no, no. You did not."

"Oh, not him. His mother."

She had ran into my ex fiance's mom. Great. Just peachy.

"What did you tell her?" I asked sweetly so that she wouldn't be defensive.

"Nothing."

Crickets. I could hear crickets over that awkward pause.

"What. Did. YOU. Tell. HER?"

"Oh, nothing. That you were getting married soon. That's all," she replied breezily.

Only my mother, folks. Only my mother.

"She asked about you, about how you were doing. And I said that. And then she asked about the groom, and I said he was fantastic. And I didn't ask her about him. I didn't want to know anything about him. His sister was there, too. And you know how they don't get along," she kept blabbering. The sister thing I knew; in fact, it was one of the biggest red flags in our relationship. "So then I kept looking at her and her smile kept getting bigger and bigger. Like she couldn't wait to say something about you getting married. It was gold."

"Ok, mom."

"But man, I wish I would run into him. I want to ream him out, tell him how awful he is."

"Mom, mom, mom, mom. No. If you run into him, you don't say anything. You don't want him to feel important."

"Really, you think so?"

"I know him. It'll just make him feel like he's worth something. Just ignore him if you want to hurt him. Trust me."

"I guess."

Who wants to bet she'll be petty and mean to him if they cross paths again?

The Biggest Con

The promise of having it all is the biggest con of all.

From an early point in my childhood, teachers and adult figures all around praised my sassy, intelligent and oftentimes loud-mouthed self; these figures encouraged me to live up to my potential, find something to be passionate about and exploit that passion. They told me that if I jumped through certain hoops I could "make it;" I could have it all (whatever that means).

Here I am, after jumping through several hoops, years of successful school, higher education, and with several diplomas and work experience under my belt with a sour aftertaste in my mouth. Those promises? Yeah, they're a little bit like artificial sweetener. Though my life is certainly not horrible, I am far away from having it all (unless having it all means having ten dollars leftover from my paycheck on a monthly basis after I pay for gas, insurance, car, cell-phone, rent, student loans, and credit cards).

I guess it could be worse, but that doesn't mean it couldn't be better. The problem, ladies and gentlemen, is that having it all is the biggest con we have dreamed up for ourselves. We keep working hard, studying late at night, and neglecting ourselves to the point of exhaustion for a shot at having it all.

Then, those same adults who encouraged me to jump through hoops keep dreaming up new hoops I have to jump through in order to attain some imaginary degree of success. It's the millennial conundrum, the rules keep changing, the older generations call us lazy and entitled (no matter how hard we work), and we keep getting more and more unemployable because we're "lazy and entitled" as a generation.

With student debt rising to an all-time high and people continuing to return to college for a shot at a better future, I keep wondering when the hoops are going to be over and done with. I can't afford to work an internship when I have to work two jobs in order to make ends meet. I guess I could forgo sleep altogether, but I imagine that would impact my productivity and focus. Just a thought.

I sit here typing this and wonder how many people are going through a similar scenario. I would wager a lot of us are, no matter our generation. So having it all? We'd be better off understanding that it's not what we thought it would look like. In fact, it's the biggest con of all.

Becoming the Educated Slut

When I started this blog, I was angry, confused, and thrust into the sometimes vomit-inducing waters of dating for the first time in six years. My ex-fiancé had broken up with me because the long-distance relationship was too much for him to handle (though I'm pretty sure it was because his penis wanted to get to know other ladies) without any reason as to why this just "wasn't working" (i.e., his penis just wasn't having any of it). 

To say that the rug had been pulled under me is an understatement. However, I had no problem validating myself in dating other guys quickly thereafter. But dating disasters alone weren't enough for me to warrant the blog. This came later on, when in a moment of weakness and tears, I called my ex and begged him to take me back (after he had flown to see me during Thanksgiving and I was all, thanks, but no thanks I will not be getting back together with you). It was then when he said sure, then backed out, then said yes again (all in a one and a half hour conversation), and I said, um, no thanks. I will not have this flip-flopping going around. So that was that.

A week later, I received an e-mail where he assessed my character of being a stupid slut (because I admitted I had been on one date with a guy and he kissed me. Just that). Then the blog began as a tongue-in-cheek categorization. I mean, if I'm going to be a slut, I'm going to be an educated one, right? So, yeah, that's about it. That's why this blog exists. That and I needed a safe, anonymous place in a corner of the internet where no one would recognize who I am. I also didn't want my ex to know anything about my life.

And now? I'd say writing and time have made me ok again, though I'm still confused. Aren't we all?