How to Get A Significant Other

I am a champ at dating, and you know why? You're probably scoffing at the fact that I just said that, because I have been with the same guy for four years, but our relationship hasn't always been rock solid, and I've managed  to let several other guys fall in love with me, though really on accident, just for being myself, and unconsciously using the tips I'm about to give you, because really, these tips are just part of who I am as a person... And I'm really sorry that they work kinda, coz they've hurt a few people in the long run, mostly because even when another guy has fallen for me, there's only been one for me. Even when that one was SO wrong, he was and still is absolutely it. So then I thought, how can I make all this worthwhile? How can all that trouble for all those fellows come to fruition for the people that know me? And this post was born. (Not only that, I have a few tricks up my sleeve that I used when I was single and flirty that normally worked, but hey, who can swear by them, because there's nothing out there that will work on every single person in the universe. Impossible.)

I am a really honest person, ha, isn't that funny? I am really open with everyone I meet, mostly because I'm scared that if I hide something I'll let it slip later and look dumb. Whatever the reason, I try to just be honest from the get go. Honesty is the best policy. Stupid cliches aside... No, really. Cliches are such for a reason, and they all have a grain of truth to them. Maybe even more than a grain. When I thought a guy was good looking, I would tell him so; and of course, when I was single, because this is about how to get a new boyfriend, not how to cheat on the fabulous guy you have now. So don't try to trip me up on technicalities! HA! This is for guys or lesbians or whatever, I don't care, we all deserve someone to love and cuddle and have sex with... Please be honest about your intentions. If you're in love with someone else, and it's clear your friend is wanting more than what you're willing to provide, say so, and pray to God that their infatuation for you doesn't grow, as it did in a situation or two of mine... EXAMPLE; you just met a guy, and you think he's cute so you want to hang out with him. Don't play games. Don't try to get him to make the first move. Tell him you think he's gorgeous and ask him when you're gonna hang out together, period. He will think you're refreshing. And in a way, it is still kinda playing games because it's definitely a tactic, but he will appreciate that he didn't have to do all the work. Plus, lots of guys are shy. And it's not hard to be easygoing about it; just drop a compliment, and then say, "So when are we hanging out?" like you know he already wants to... because don't you know he wants to?

Speaking of shyness.... Being shy sucks. I used to be shy, like to the point of being crippled by it, which actually was a turn on for guys because they liked my vulnerability and innocence and shit. Turns out, I wasn't innocent or vulnerable. Just scared shitless. It's not hard to push shyness out of your system. It takes a lot of awkwardness, and maybe even rejection and plenty of stupid moments where you look like a stuttering, bumbling idiot, but once it's gone you won't miss any more opportunities because of your shyness. I ruined my entire high school "career" because I was shy, and so people wrote me off as unapproachable and stuck up, which wasn't it at all. Once I realized that this part of my personality was taking away some valuable elements from my life, I started putting myself out there. I smiled at strangers. (Baby steps, guys. Baby steps.) I took a job that forced me to speak with over 100 strangers daily and convince them to sell things for the company I worked for. Not only did I have to speak to these strangers, I had to be charming and endearing, and later I had to meet them in person when they came for their job interviews and be gracious about it. Oh dear, what practice. That job killed my shyness in a week or two. You can do it by taking speech classes, or by making as many new friends as you can. You wouldn't believe how many people passed on you because they were intimidated by you... Trust me, they probably told you later. I know they told me.

Be open with your sexuality. No, I mean this. I am a female. I have soft skin and I like to smell pretty and I wear heels sometimes. I adore showing the beginning cleft of my cleavage and I know my lashes are long. If you're a man... guess what, the smell of your sweat turns us (women) on, and I like your hairy knuckles and veiny hands and broad backs. If you're lesbian and you are more masculine, flaunt that shit, because somewhere your next catch is eying you like "Whoooooa, Momma." If you're a feminine homosexual male, wear your scarves and coif your hair perfect and oil your skin because first of all, you're hot, and second of all, I want you to be my best friend. :) Your sexuality can be however you want it to be, and you have to be comfortable with that side of you to be comfortable in your own skin. It's part of the body peace, it's like being comfortable with freckles or cellulite or red hair. If you're not comfortable with the procreating, sexy part of you, how can you expect someone else to be? I'm not saying, hey, go fuck everything and anything that crosses you, you crazy slut, you. I am saying... you are what you are, and someone thinks you're sexy, so go for it. If you think you're sexy, and I stress again, SEXY not SLUTTY, then someone else will too; and sex is a vital part of every healthy relationship.

Lastly (kinda), confidence doesn't mean not nervous, it means knowing what you want and going for it, while being scared out of your pants. At least in most cases. Like, I respect every guy that comes up to me genuinely, not the guys that say "Hey baby, lemme stick my cock in you!" but the guys that summon up their courage and ask me out for real, because that shit is hard. Lots of attractive people are taken (yep, sad truth) so when you ask out somebody on the fly, and you're about to puke and everything, the fact that you did it is so respectable, even if you get rejected. I'm sure you're wondering, Pft, respectable? Who gives a fuck? I just got rejected! Rejections are valuable, because a lot of the time, it's not you, it's that the other person is blind or prejudiced or having a bad day or taken, and it happens. But if you're sitting there thinking, "God, that person is too gorgeous, I can't ask them out, they'll say no" then you'll miss out on the person that says yes to you, every time you don't take the plunge. Plus, it's great practice on killing that shyness.

I said "lastly (kinda)" because I have oodles of dating advice, to be completely honest, and I'm tired of typing and I'm sure by now you're tired of reading. Actually, I'm sure that you've probably been skimming this entire thing anyway, and I appreciate the fact you're on this page at all... But I'm gonna stop here, because I put the key facts out there, and if I get personal requests for more, I can satisfy those however, depending on the volume of requests.

;)

Why Have My Posts Been So Dumb Lately?

Not that I get a lot of traffic on this shit anyway but still, it's important to me and maybe a few other people and I keep fucking it up. Gah.

Normally, I don't have anything important to say and then I'll either get to thinking really hard or I'll get something stuck in my craw and I'll have tons to write about. I've been thinking lately but nothing has been interesting or enlightening. All articles I've ever read about how to start up a decent, somewhat popular blog advise you to pick some sort of topic and stick to it on your entire blog; something I find impossible. There are tons out there; in fact, all the blogs I follow, except one, revolve around fashion and bettering yourself but I don't think I can do that. I have my own fashion, of course, but I don't feel like posting about it because most of my days are spent in workout gear (shitty stuff too, nothing sexy or functional at ALL) and Panera stuff, followed by ripped jeans and trapeze tops. And maybe earrings, to add variation. I love fashion and have tons of clothes, but I stick to a few essentials because the little time I have in passing weeks to wear what I want, of course I want to wear my favorite things. I wish I could find a homeless girl or two to give some of my clothes to.... And I don't write extensively about bettering yourself because I feel I am an intensely silly, flawed person, and that life isn't really all about being all you can be to the point of the most complete perfection, it's about being yourself and living your life to its full extent, even if that means embracing all your flaws. That isn't to say I don't like bettering myself, or that other people shouldn't... Just that I won't write about that.

Which leads me to something vital; what IS my blog about? Silly tidbits that even I don't care about? My life? Advice? Various recollections? Occasional fashion/makeup tips? Everything sounds kind of stupid, plus I have posts that fall into all those categories. I am going to be posting again today, because my mind is on fire with things to write about, and I'll probably schedule these posts to be up later in the week (because that's how cool Blogspot.com is) but don't come looking on my site for something specific because I can guarantee that it won't be here... Unless of course, it is asked for, which is what my next post will be focused on ;) Cheers.

I'm a Work in Progress.

I've finally figured out a wonderful way to successfully keep the demons of my insecurities at bay. Because of that, you know that I couldn't keep it quiet. I had to share the fruits of my nearly decade long struggle with you. 

I guess I should tell you WHY I've always been so insecure... For every person that has called me beautiful, there are two more people telling me different. Negative things are so much easier to believe; ever noticed that? When complimented, I protest and deny. When put down, I hang my head and am struck silent by my acceptance, because it's probably something I've already thought before anyway. Put downs are so easy to swallow; they melt like sugar in the mouth. My mother has always told me that people put me down because they are jealous; they disdain me and isolate me because they wish to be like me, and so separate themselves from me because they can't be like me. I can't say I'll ever believe that. I'm not a jealous person; in the rare times I've felt envy, it was an emotion hard to name because each time it's new, a hard rock in my chest that takes me awhile to identify. 

There are things that make me beautiful. Although as of late, I have avoided makeup, even though I've always fancied myself a sort of cosmetic novice and have always expressed myself through the paints on my face; still, a brush of bronzer (I miss you, o summer tan) and a touch of mascara prepares my face for the judgement people will pass on me. That bronzer and mascara is my war paint.  I soothe myself with the fact that even though my face can sometimes be too dry or oily or that I'm breaking out that at some point, tomorrow is a different day and everyday that I work on my skin is a day that it will be better. Everyday I survey my naked body with distaste I comfort myself knowing that working out six days a week, drinking water, and limiting my calories (for life) will eventually chisel me into the femme fatale that I want to be. And of course, each time that I look at my newly clipped curls growing awkwardly into some weird yield sign shaped monstrosity, I remind myself that my hair grows 1/2 an inch a month, time passes quickly, and in a year it will be half a foot longer than it is right now. 

See, I'm a work in progress... My body, my face,  my hair, my mind. If anyone has anything negative to say, then their words deflect off of me, simply because everything about me is constantly getting better, and aging like wine. If you hate something about yourself, give your haters (including yourself) the bird, awaken that sexuality per this post, and work on changing what you hate. Hate your dishwater blond hair? The fact that you suck at long division (hey I don't know...)? Maybe you hate how your thighs jiggle. Come up with some sort of idea after getting to the root of your insecurities, and fight to change them. Give yourself time and you will be on the path to getting better and better... And if you need some advice, or a little push, you know who to call ;)

I haven't posted anything in like, a week.

This isn't anything new or interesting or exciting, just thought I'd share a little piece of myself with you guys. I've got five minutes so I thought I'd get on here and stop being so neglectful.

I've figured out my future for the most part and it is entirely and enchantingly feasible... I don't know who knows this and who doesn't, but I am from Winston Salem, which is better than Greenville. Winston kicks Greenville's ass. Where Greenville has rowdy kids, vomit spattered sidewalks, and countless Mickey D's, Winston has historic buildings, green expanses of lawn, and kids riding their bikes. I can't say that Greenville is all bad, or Winston is all good, but the bad side of Winston looks how the majority of Greenville actually looks. I got to visit Winston Salem this weekend, and it was amazing. My mom took us shopping, she got the bodybuilder this great thrifted leather coat (new it would've been over $200!) and a comforter for our bed, it is so gorgeous and plush with braided trim. AND she washed it with fabric softener... I don't use fabric softener, because I normally have trouble affording detergent, so that's that. It's amazing. I got to go through downtown, and see all the shops and new restaurants, and realized how much I missed the small city. I used to complain a lot when I lived there; mostly because I was silly and immature, and I didn't understand what I had. Also, my mom hated my boyfriend, and so it made the entire atmosphere tense and restless. I daren't say it, but that's the real reason I hated Winston. Now that my mom actually misses me, and bears my bodybuilder no animosity, Winston Salem is a lovely place, and I didn't realize it because I hadn't been there in so long. I told myself, "Greenville isn't so bad, I have a decent apartment, and a steady job..." Silly, because for what I'm paying now, I could have something historic in the Art district of Winston, and the job market is better there anyway. (Luckily, I am one of those people, I can easily find a job while others are complaining that they can't find a single thing.)

Not to mention, currently my mom thinks I am in school. If I lived in Winston and attended Forsyth Tech for awhile with her blessing, there would be no need to lie... And I hate lying. It causes me much distress. I also figured, if I move, I need to find a good university in Winston Salem, and not move again for awhile. Wake Forest is out, simply because I dislike it. WSSU-- hell no, I will never attend a predominantly black college. Which left, in some strange twist of fate, a college I never really considered; Salem. An all female, Moravian college. 5% of their graduates pursue law school. It's a gorgeous campus. I definitely don't need to be concerned with the all girls thing. I hear the financial aid is fabulous (Thanks, Yasmeen.) It's on the right side of Winston. I swear, all this was meant to happen. I was supposed to be a lost soul, only to find myself OUTside of school and to eventually find my way back again to the right one. My mom loves this whole idea of course, and she even supports the Forsyth Tech thing. I'm utterly convinced that this is what I want to do, and I love how easy it is... Now is just a matter of doing it, and of convincing my adorable boyfriend it's worth it.

Looking ahead to the future is making me so happy right now, whether than afraid, or apprehensive. It's a lovely feeling, and I enjoy it. I haven't been truly happy for awhile-it's hard to feel happy in the present when the future so close ahead is uncertain and dark, and everything you've been through in the past looms behind you like some bad omen. I take comfort that things are actually looking up again, and could be (overall) good for a long while.

Smaller, inconsequential updates...
I found two new idols-
Marilyn Monroe

Sir Isaac Newton

I can't seem to get my puppy to stay potty trained.... and the poor little thing came back from my mom's house with fleas :(

Come on Nova, you're nearly six months old, grow up!

SN: I wanna use more pictures/color in this blog, all this black and white text is killing me.

Jealousy... "Am I Beautiful?"

In a "Letter to Men" Christina Hendricks pens, "We remember forever what you say about the bodies of other women. When you mention in passing that a certain woman is attractive — could be someone in the office, a woman on the street, a celebrity, any woman in the world, really — your comment goes into a steel box and it stays there forever. We will file the comment under “Women He Finds Attractive." And this is true. 


I have said before, I struggle deeply with my own insecurities; for example, my entire life I've wanted short hair, and it took a hair disaster for me to finally take the plunge. That's simply because I know so many people that loved me with my long hair (even though I hated it), including every guy I've ever dated. Even my current beau. In the nearly four years that I've been with my bodybuilder, as in any other relationship, pressure comes from both sides to be a certain way. (In the early days, when he was more of a prick, he once told me I resembled Chucky's bride when I wore an oversized lace dress with a leather motorcycle jacket. This was true, but still hurtful) When he began to show an interest in tennis and the only music he would play in the car was Jason Mraz, I called foul; where was my manly man with his shaved head and gangster music? After my hair was clipped, he pressured me to grow it back, and I decided to, because I was feeling even more pressure from outside sources (media, work) to have long, pretty locks, even though this whole awkward growing out phase was KILLING me. I am a woman of extremes; it's long, or short. It's all, or nothing. Fuck bobs, fuck shoulder length. Fuck fuck fuck it. SN: My boyfriend says I look like a supermodel with my new pixie cut. ;) Funny because when I REALLY came out and asked him if I should cut it, he encouraged me to. What a sweetie.


Even though I love my (even shorter) hair now, I still feel the pressure. I always feel the pressure; to be thinner, to have long hair, to wear lots of makeup, to show more cleavage. I am always asking myself, what is beautiful? What will make me pretty? Am I even pretty? All my talk of fabulousness and silly rituals is just a booster seat to chase my demons away. It can be a bad thing; I am often tempted to starve myself again, which is surprisingly easy for me to do, as much as I love food. When that treacherous voice purrs into my ear, "You don't need to eat today" I buy a pumpkin muffie from work that's smothered in powdered sugar, and tell that voice to shut the fuck up. Anything to keep self starvation from coming back onto the scene and morphing into some sort of messed up state of normalcy. 


I recently found out my heritage; this probably seems random, but trust me, it has relevance. My mother is adopted, but when she visited last month she told me about how when she'd had a DNA test when she was pregnant with my brother (SEVEN years ago) what she is made of, so to speak (besides coffee and snuggles.) In regards to that information, here are my stats;
.25 Cherokee
.25 African American
.25 German
.125 Irish
.125 Chinese


What the fuck. 1/8 Chinese. Are you serious...
Anyway. Being a relative mutt has always been a problem for me. Hispanic guys have approached me, tittering away in Spanish, and while (for the most part) I understand and can respond... I am not Hispanic. Thus, they slink away. Rednecks run away from me screaming; most redneck guys seem to find me attractive, but are almost ashamed of it. I kid you not. In lots of relationships, a beau's parents will disapprove of me instantly; not only am I not white, but I'm mixed? I've got diluted blood? Geez, why couldn't my parents stay in their own race? >Sigh.< Then they'll order their sons to dump me-again, I kid you not. It's happened. Once I got in a heated argument with my bodybuilder's father because he was using the word "nigger" like it was going out of style. (He told me he forgot I wasn't Caucasian. Aww, how sweet, I guess I should be... flattered? Maybe?) It's interesting. It's like if you're dark skinned, or you're a whole bunch of things, you're not pretty, and you shouldn't be accepted. I've been swamped by the Big Green Envy Monster many a time, because I see evidence that a boyfriend of mine is fawning over something that is CLEARLY nothing like me (my bodybuilder is fixated on black chicks with annoying voices, weave, and huge booties... None of which I have, thank God), and I wonder inwardly of course, are they prettier than me? Do they turn him on better than I can? Should I strive to have a big ass and long hair? Is that appealing? I remember guys along the way (that I never, ever dated) saying that if one thing, ohhh just one little thing, was different about me, they'd jump my bones; "Oh if your ass was bigger..." "Oh, if your clothes matched..." "Oh, if you didn't laugh so much..." It's funny, I even feel the pressure nowadays to be black, or white, or Puerto Rican... to be anything really, but what I am, (even though I find great pride in my mocha skin and mixed blood. I feel it makes me more worldly; I am a chameleon and was raised to be able to fit in anywhere.) and I know other women feel it too.... Like darker skin is uglier than light with black people. I see that a lot. A loser guy turning down a gorgeous, intelligent girl because she was "too thin and dark". It's funny because going down to those African roots, ebony skin was savored; darker skin meant strength and fertility. It meant beauty, while this whole thing with "redbones" and "yellowbones" would've been disdained. 


So here's my ending note, as always on a chord of being fabulous... Embrace the skin, and who you are. If you've always dreamed of cutting your hair, cut that shit off; I wish I'd done it years ago. Confidence is sexy. Being comfortable and secure is sexy; if you're uncomfortable with yourself, even if you're following every rule that society measures beauty by, then you're not going to BE beautiful-because you don't feel it. Practice self love like it's a religion.