A Week in the World of Online Dating Made Me Listen to Myself from May (So I'm Glad I Blog About Some of This S$%t)

I don't even know how to start this hot mess. Just know you're in for some oversharing. But I hope it's going to make you feel better about what you thought was a hot mess in YOUR  love life. Or that you can relate and be like oh man. Jen is RIGHT THERE WITH ME. Or basically you're just watching me have therapy, right in front of you guys. Because this is how I do it at the moment even though we all know I could really benefit from some couch time.


Men. I like them. I sometimes want to associate with them. But I haven't in quite a while (which is, I know, a relative thing to say, because at one point in my life "quite a while" was four years and now it might be more like four months and everyone else has numbers somewhere in there or more or less or whatever because that's how we wacky humans are), and part of the reason for that is the multitude of reasons for that include: I'm lazy; I don't want to clean my house and womanscape myself; I don't want to get a babysitter; it's summer and it's all about me and the kid and vacations; my hormones are all over the place and it's next to impossible to plan ANYTHING; I don't want to not be at home with my kid; I don't want to not be at home on my couch with my DVR; I don't want to take time away from time I hang out with my friends who are AWESOME; I don't want complications in my life.


Because no matter how you slice it, at some point, men=complications. At least in my life.


There was the one guy I met in a "normal" way who on the outside was all that and then I was sort of interested then not then I was then they really were and then I was NOT. And there's the guy who seemed interested one minute and then not the next and then again and then not and then DISAPPEARED. And then there is the completely emotionally and logistically unavailable guy who wants to do x, y, and z, but not a, b, and c, and I'm like yeah... I was looking for the whole alphabet, actually, but thanks for the offer of those three letters. And then there's the young guy... why am I not interested in the young guy? Let me get back to you on that because I'm actually forgetting why it is I'm not calling him...


So with that hot mess of a paragraph OF COURSE I decided I should put myself on an online dating site or two. So that I could feel annoyed and rejected by more than just my limited pool of men. Well, that's my take a week later. Initially I was like, oh my gosh, these men in my circle, there are more men in the world, I need to widen my scope and see if I feel like dating at ALL because I'm feeling like I don't AT ALL, but maybe it's just this pool of folks, right?


Didn't that totally make sense? It made sense to me at the time.


Well, what has transpired is that nothing has transpired. I think I found four people interesting enough to send them a message. So then it's like I'm getting rejected on three fronts. If no one picks you up at a bar it's because you don't look like their type. If someone doesn't replay to your message you don't look like their type, your profile blurb is not interesting, and the message you thought was so witty that there was no way they wouldn't reply, also did absolutely nothing for them. So it's like boom. Boom. Boom. And then of the gents who messaged me, I was not interested in any of them. One of them LOOKED like my cup of tea but seemed like an arrogant ass. And then on both of these "free" sites you can't see a bunch of stuff if you don't pay. Apparently there are like forty-seven men who like me on one of them but I have no idea who they are because I refuse to pay for this shit when I don't even know if I want to leave my couch. If they can't be bothered to send a message their "like" for me can go fuck itself.


So add my ever steady stream of flowing hormones and there have been a couple of times where I'm just like man, I'm going to go ahead and cry right now. I didn't, but I kind of wanted to. And this morning I was saw this post on Facebook and the headline was, "109-Year-Old Woman Said Secret to Long Life is Avoiding Men." And I was just like THIS IS A SIGN. And I should write about how I've come to the conclusion that men are not for me. I've loved a couple of them and those experiences turned out to be disasters. EXCEPT that with the first guy I wound up with the greatest thing in my life, my kid. So I feel like I just need to shut up about this. Because I. Have. An. Amazing. Kid. Do you know how many people would love to be where I am? I have a job, I like my job. I have great friends, I love them, and I love my family so much. And then on top of it, I have this beautiful daughter who keeps me entertained and amused and I love her with all my heart and then some. And I co-parent peacefully with her dad. So why should I care if I'm at the high school dance all over again and no one wants to dance with me? It DOESN'T MATTER. At the end of the day, I will sometimes feel like this really matters. But it DOESN'T MATTER. It just doesn't matter at all. If my lot in life is that boys don't know I'm alive, but my life is all wonderful and great and filled with love, then that thing about boys DOESN'T MATTER. Would I rather a full dance card and not the other stuff? Of course not.


Maybe one day it will fall into my lap. Out of the sky. Basically someone from another planet because I'm the right "type" for an alien. Maybe that will happen and until then I'm going to remember that I already covered this back in May. And I read the post below (I'll italicize the whole thing so you know that this is me talking all the way back five months ago) and was like, "I already know this. I've known this. I know it down in my soul." And I instantly felt okay-er about everything.


So at the end of the day this is not about how I lose at love and sex. It's about how I win at the rest of it. Because I have won and I do win, daily. And my glass is half full about this and my heart is all the way full.


Friday, May 22, 2015

Acceptance Might Look Like Pessimism But At Least I'm Very Okay

I'm trying to think how I can do this post and not sound totally pessimistic. Truth be told, with regard to this subject matter, I have been made amazingly pessimistic. I started out like anyone else, full of hope and dreams and ideas of how perfect things would be, eyes filled with stars and rainbows and unicorns and heart emoticons.

And then I had life happen to me. And life says, in general, mine is better without a man in it.

Should I be doing this post when I'm hormonal? Better question is, since I will be forty-five years old in two weeks and one day and heavily rely on my Maximum Strength Estroven, how much time do I get to spend these days not being hormonal? So I might as well get this out, even if there's a chance I start crying and I did a bunch of crying yesterday so I really really really don't want to cry today because frankly, that shit is super tiring. Downright exhausting.

But the tears, while partly due to being a little sad, are also part of the cleansing. Part of the accepting. I'm accepting how my life should be, on what I should concentrate, to what I should pay attention, that which I need to make a priority, the things about which I need to care the most.

And finding a relationship or finding some nookie are two things about which I do not wish to care. As they say nowadays, when it comes to these things, I can't even. I just. Can't. Even.

I feel like since I first noticed that boys were cute (and this is going back to about 1975), it's been a struggle. It's been a round peg trying to fit into a square hole, it's been a girl who is too shy to make herself noticed or who has terrible hair and pitiful eyebrows and later, let's throw on a full-blown social phobia that would last more than 10 years. And then there's the fact that at nearly six feet tall, the world of men is smaller than the world of men for my counterpart who is an adorable five-five. Yes, I love you, all my five-five lovelies, and I'm so envious that there are a bunch more short apples you can pick off the dating tree. I mean, we know, my first boyfriend was just over five feet and I made a baby with a guy who didn't reach five-six. But when it comes to dating, it's kind of hard to find guys who are okay with or don't feel weird about their woman being taller, and frankly, as tall as I am, I still have this silly girly want of being able to look a guy in the eye and his eyes are not pointing at my boobs. And finally, let's add to this mix of Mission Impossible: The Dating Version that my "type" when I was twelve was Burt Reynolds and Tom Selleck. These were the guys I thought were hunks. And that has persisted, and changed to something softer and nerdier and maybe not as hairy (though give me a hairy chest and I'll even deal with the back hair over someone who looks ready for an Olympic swim team), and those guys are not looking at me... they might be look at thinner and lighter and blonder, frankly. Which is okay, we all have preferences (see Tom and Burt above and please, let's not get confused and think I want Burt today because, come on, I'm talking Smokey and the Bandit/Paternity/Cannonball Run Burt), I'm just saying obviously, when it comes to the stars aligning and I think some guy is cute and he thinks I'm cute and he makes me laugh and he thinks I'm hilarious, you can see, it's challenging.

Don't get me wrong, it's challenging for everyone. I live on this planet, I know you can have the most perfect body and perfect hair and be just the right height and say all the right things and still have a hell of a time finding a guy. Or finding one who is decent. Or one who doesn't drive you nuts. I'm not saying otherwise but I'm just talking about my experience right now.

After my last experience on a dating site, on which I talked to a few nice guys and a few very dull guys and put myself out there and got no responses to some messages and met a sort of confusing guy with whom I had a lovely time but I probably won't see again (long story), I'm fucking exhausted. I'm tired. I am over checking my email to see if anyone "liked" me or messaged me. I'm over getting the email from them showing me my "matches," I'm over looking at the same group of matches over and over again because even when you say oh man, I'm so not interested (that guy looks like a goth Abe Lincoln, top hat and all) and hide their profile, five minutes later it's right there in the group of the same faces you cannot possibly look at one more time.

I'm tired of feeling rejected by someone I don't even know. I'm tired of fishing when I don't even know what I'd do with these fish when I get them. I work at least forty hours each week. I want to spend my down time with my kid, and I'm so selfish of that time but there's so little left for anything else. So why I am getting angst when that guy who was kind of cute and said some kind of funny things in his profile is not messaging me? WHY DO I GIVE A SHIT?

I'm not good at this stuff. I'm just not. I accept that the universe has been trying to tell me for over thirty years that Jen, you are totally good at some stuff. When your head is not up your ass you're a good friend. Your kid thinks you're a good mom. I was a good daughter. I like to think I'm a good sister. Many times I feel like I'm good at my job. People look forward to seeing me and spending time with me. These are the people by whom I should judge my likability. NOT some random guy who thinks he is cool because he likes all these fucking bands I've never heard of. I don't give a shit that you saw X Factor 12 in concert and have all their songs on vinyl. I just don't care. At all.

I was lucky enough to find someone to whom I was able to cohabitate for many years and we managed to create this kid who is AMAZING. The light of my life and a continual source of joy and you already know all this if you've ever talked to me for like five minutes.

And so for now, I'm done. When it comes to looking or hoping or wondering, I am done.

I want to concentrate on being a good mom. A better mom (my kid ate vegetables TWICE yesterday!). I want to concentrate on being healthier. I want to clean my fucking house. Dusting and all. And I don't want to keep being sad because I feel like nobody likes me everybody hates me guess I'll go eat worms. Because I know I shouldn't internalize that shit and yet I do. And then I eat some comfort food and cry and and that is not energizing, it's the opposite of that. So I'm over it and I'm done and I can't even.

But I'm optimistic about letting go. Writing this down has made me feel lighter already. And I don't know that this will help anyone else but if anyone has been where I have been, I really hope it will.

I've always felt I can be happy all by myself. But it's not even that I'm by myself. I'm surrounded by love. If that does not currently include the love of a tall hairy chested guy, I'm so very okay with that. So very okay.

A Quick One About How Grief Works and How It's So F*%ked Up

Five minutes ago I'm cleaning the bathroom counter, just minding my fucking business. And now I'm sobbing. Not crying, not all teary, I'm sobbing.

Because grief is just fucked up, my friends. I'm can't sugarcoat this for you. It's the truth, and if you've grieved some major people, you will get this.

It's a chain reaction for me today. I smell the antibacterial cleaner, I've used it many times before, and something about the smell today makes me think man, this smells like hospital. Like a clean yet unpleasant sort of smell. 

So like boom boom boom, the associations pummel me. Mom in the hospital in January of 2014,  knowing she was not going to live, not wanting to leave the hospital because she knew she was going home to die and that my brother and I would be the ones caring for her, maybe thinking the longer she stayed in the hospital might give her one more day with us, or just one more day that we weren't changing IV fluid bags or giving her blood thinner injections.

And I'm just flattened. Not only because she's gone and I can't even explain how much I miss her and how much I need her and how much I want to pick up the phone and talk to her like we did several times a day. I can tell you, I miss my mommy, but you can't get it, unless, unfortunately, you've been there, lost that. But my heart also breaks because I hate that she felt that. That she knew she would have to leave us and her granddaughters. I hate it, so much, more than I have ever hated anything. And today, smelling that fucking stupid antibacterial cleaner brings it all back and I'm crying more than I've cried in months.

This after having a pretty good productive morning, one of those when I felt so unproductive that my productivity was making me feel all proud and stuff. And then I had to go and clean the counter and use that stuff and not the lavender cleaner that wouldn't have me here, typing all of this and blowing my nose.

So it's fucked up. And a friend who is grieving recently posted something on Facebook about how it comes in waves and that on that day she was drowning. And some days you are doing that. Just drowning. So right now, in this moment, my head is under water.

And I'm not writing for sympathy, I'm writing because  I needed to write it down. Because you people are part of how I deal with this bullshit. I write it down and I post it because I like to create and I like to perform and I like to connect with people. Especially people who get it and they go oh fuck, that happened to me just last week. I'm not alone because Jen cleaned her stupid fucking sink and then missed her mom so badly that she felt like a broken mess. I'm not alone.

Now I've done this, I'm going to share it, I'm going to blow my nose and put on some makeup and go to lunch because I have lunch plans, and while I'm there I'm going to laugh and eat and have a good time, and then I'm going to pick up the kid and hug her about eight billion times. And I'll be smiling because I've already cried and I got this out and as I always say, if I spent the entire day crying Mom would be so pissed. Like, what the fuck are you doing? I get it, I was awesome, you miss me, but you're alive, live some life.

So I'll do that

Stop Yelling. Start Listening. Try Understanding.

I am this close to getting off of Facebook. Because it only mostly seems to amplify a huge problem we are having right now and it makes me sad and depressed and feel a little bit hopeless about the world and I hate feeling that way.


Some people in our country are arguing the way people do in bad relationships. It's all hurt and defensiveness but no one is LISTENING.


I don't have the right words to say about this, but I have to say something anyway.


We have to talk. We have to listen to each other. We have to try to see the reasons behind people saying BLACK lives matter and why saying ALL lives matter is not listening to the folks who are saying black lives matter, and to that end, go look at this piece that a friend posted from Fusion that is short and to the point regarding that and...


... I'm not a sociologist or a historian but I wish I played on one TV and could give you a crash course on race relations. On the history of black folks in America, on oppression, on the sociological ramifications generations later on a group of people descended from slaves. I can't educate you on that, and you can read about it and you can try to remember what you learned in school, but there are some things, that when it comes to these issues, you will NEVER get. You might say, but I'm not a racist and I don't see racism so... and I would say, you don't get it, and I'm not trying to be offensive but there are some things that can't be fully "got" but some people. And if that offends you, maybe you'll stop reading or maybe you'll read on for a second to see that I'm trying to help all of us, which feels like a tiny mouse trying to push a giant wheel of cheese entirely uphill in order to feed an entire country. I'm the mouse and this isn't even as big as a giant wheel of cheese but I'm still trying to get uphill in hopes that I say something that makes even just one person LISTEN more.


I'm in a position of being a black liberal person with law enforcement ties (and I won't say more than that because I like to have a certain amount of anonymity with this blog because who knows, one day people beyond my 4 Facebook friends who read this might see this stuff). So I feel like I have a perspective that many do, but obviously, many do NOT.


So have there been people killed in custody or while being taken into custody who should NOT have been killed? Yes. Have there been people killed while being taken into custody and it was completely justified, that their actions and the situation led to an officer having to use lethal force? Yes, absolutely.


Here's what it also means: Officers do NOT WANT TO USE LETHAL FORCE. EVER. There is no cop, unless he is a total psycho (and every occupation employs people who should not have that job), who wants to kill ANYONE.


And of late, have their been a disproportionate amount of young black men killed by police officers? I don't have that numbers on that or on anything else because I'm seriously just usually a frilly little blogger trying to entertain you people. I don't know how many white folks were killed by police officers and we haven't heard about it, but it would look like this is the case, and even if it IS the case, it STILL doesn't mean that police want to shoot people or that police want to shoot black people, it just does NOT mean this, at all.


What many people are not understanding, and I'm talking to you, my law enforcement friends, is THERE IS A REASON THAT A BUNCH OF PEOPLE ARE ANGRY. You have to understand, this is not coming out of nowhere. It is coming out of recent events and it is coming out of a history of oppression and a time when black people were undoubtedly targeted. Do I think cops target black people today? No. Do I think that SOME cops do? I'm sure there are those that do. Because cops are humans, there are still racists walking the earth, and some of them are cops. I also think there are some who target other races. I know it's not what is supposed to happen and I'm not trying to be inflammatory but I'm also saying, don't insult the intelligence of people and say that race is never a factor because it's simply not true. By and large, I don't feel this is what happens, and here is one of the things that sucks.


You take a teeny, tiny, minute percentage of what is happening in the world, and see it get conflated to: POLICE OFFICERS SHOOT BLACK PEOPLE.


So now I'm talking to my people who are not in law enforcement, no, not all cops are racists, not all cops racially profile, and most definitely, not all cops are looking to shoot black people.


People become cops for a variety of reasons. Frankly, for as many years as I have known cops and worked with them I have no idea why anyone would want that job. My joke is always this: If danger is over THIS WAY I'm going to run THAT WAY. Cops don't do that. They run TO IT. To protect YOU from it. They don't know you, they never met you, they don't care what race you are. When they go to a call and a life is in danger they are going to do everything in their power to keep YOU out of danger. That is their job. Yes, they give you tickets, and they arrest people, but if someone is breaking into your house in the middle of the night, you're not going to call your best friend, or your mom, or your cousin. You are going to call the police because these are people who are trained to try to protect you and your stuff. This is their JOB. And every single day they go to this job they don't know what will happen to them. I kiss my kid goodbye in the morning and have very little doubt I'll be back that night to see her again. Cops know that most of the time, they will, too. But they also know that it can all change in an instant for them. They know this and their families know this, and they live with it and on their days off they play with their kids and take care of their parents and all the same stuff that we do.


The people who have ASSASINATED cops these past couple of weeks, these are NOT the people who are saying Black Lives Matter. These are horrible fucking people who are trying to make a statement in a terrible, horrible, backwards way but are nothing but cowardly murderers. If you are a police officer who, with all sorts of things going on around you, having to make split second life or death decisions to protect you and your fellow officers and other people, if in that second you take the life of someone you are trying to apprehend, and there MAY have been another way to make that happened, that is NOT the same as walking up to police officer and unloading a gun into them. These are not commensurate situations. AT ALL.


Also, that cop who ran after the guy and shot him in the back while in pursuit? Like with anything else that has happened in the news, I have no details. Because I can't handle the news. At all, ever, for years I have been that way. But I cannot imagine the situation that would have you run after someone and shoot them in the back unless they were running with a gun into a crowd of people. But THAT horrible situation is the EXCEPTION.


Think of ALL the thousands of cops who go to work every day, who have been going to work for years, who rarely even have to DRAW their weapons let alone use them. These are the people who need support right now.


So in summary, cops, you need to get why people are upset. You need to understand some terrible stuff has happened and that some people feel scared and victimized and rightly so. You need to listen to what they are saying, and you need to respond with the fact that you understand where they are coming from, and assure them that you're their to protect them. They don't need to fear you. They do not need to think you're out to get them. I ALREADY KNOW THIS IS TRUE, YOU ALREADY KNOW THIS IS TRUE. But you need to show them and tell them, the people who don't get that it's true. And you are suffering, you are hurting, YOU are feeling targeted, but do not think the people who are trying to tell you that Black Lives Matter are hunting you down. Don't say to THEM All Lives Matter or Cop Lives Matter. We all know that all of these things are true. See again the part I posted about Black Lives Matter. LISTEN. And then make them understand WHO YOU REALLY ARE. Don't yell at them about who you are, don't be angry at them because they don't understand who you are, listen to why they think you're one way, and show them you're not.


People, know what I said about cops to be true. They are here to help. They are human beings. Like with any profession, amongst them you'll find jerks and racists and completely awful people and people who make bad decisions. DON'T SEE AN ENTIRE PROFESSION AS THIS. THEY ARE NOT THIS. Listen to them, see what they do, ask them what they do, don't yell at them about what you feel a small percentage of them to be doing WRONG.


Listen to each other. Don't yell at each other. Try to understand. We're ALL HURTING RIGHT NOW. I joked to a group of friends, I don't know what to do, I'd like to buy the world a Coke and teach them all to sing. That's what I fucking want to do and I don't know how to do that.


So this is the closest I can come to that. Here is your Coke, people. Drink it and let's all fucking sing together and not tear each other apart.

Acceptance Might Look Like Pessimism But At Least I'm Very Okay

I'm trying to think how I can do this post and not sound totally pessimistic. Truth be told, with regard to this subject matter, I have been made amazingly pessimistic. I started out like anyone else, full of hope and dreams and ideas of how perfect things would be, eyes filled with stars and rainbows and unicorns and heart emoticons.

And then I had life happen to me. And life says, in general, mine is better without a man in it.

Should I be doing this post when I'm hormonal? Better question is, since I will be forty-five years old in two weeks and one day and heavily rely on my Maximum Strength Estroven, how much time do I get to spend these days not being hormonal? So I might as well get this out, even if there's a chance I start crying and I did a bunch of crying yesterday so I really really really don't want to cry today because frankly, that shit is super tiring. Downright exhausting.

But the tears, while partly due to being a little sad, are also part of the cleansing. Part of the accepting. I'm accepting how my life should be, on what I should concentrate, to what I should pay attention, that which I need to make a priority, the things about which I need to care the most.

And finding a relationship or finding some nookie are two things about which I do not wish to care. As they say nowadays, when it comes to these things, I can't even. I just. Can't. Even.

I feel like since I first noticed that boys were cute (and this is going back to about 1975), it's been a struggle. It's been a round peg trying to fit into a square hole, it's been a girl who is too shy to make herself noticed or who has terrible hair and pitiful eyebrows and later, let's throw on a full-blown social phobia that would last more than 10 years. And then there's the fact that at nearly six feet tall, the world of men is smaller than the world of men for my counterpart who is an adorable five-five. Yes, I love you, all my five-five lovelies, and I'm so envious that there are a bunch more short apples you can pick off the dating tree. I mean, we know, my first boyfriend was just over five feet and I made a baby with a guy who didn't reach five-six. But when it comes to dating, it's kind of hard to find guys who are okay with or don't feel weird about their woman being taller, and frankly, as tall as I am, I still have this silly girly want of being able to look a guy in the eye and his eyes are not pointing at my boobs. And finally, let's add to this mix of Mission Impossible: The Dating Version that my "type" when I was twelve was Burt Reynolds and Tom Selleck. These were the guys I thought were hunks. And that has persisted, and changed to something softer and nerdier and maybe not as hairy (though give me a hairy chest and I'll even deal with the back hair over someone who looks ready for an Olympic swim team), and those guys are not looking at me... they might be look at thinner and lighter and blonder, frankly. Which is okay, we all have preferences (see Tom and Burt above and please, let's not get confused and think I want Burt today because, come on, I'm talking Smokey and the Bandit/Paternity/Cannonball Run Burt), I'm just saying obviously, when it comes to the stars aligning and I think some guy is cute and he thinks I'm cute and he makes me laugh and he thinks I'm hilarious, you can see, it's challenging.

Don't get me wrong, it's challenging for everyone. I live on this planet, I know you can have the most perfect body and perfect hair and be just the right height and say all the right things and still have a hell of a time finding a guy. Or finding one who is decent. Or one who doesn't drive you nuts. I'm not saying otherwise but I'm just talking about my experience right now.

After my last experience on a dating site, on which I talked to a few nice guys and a few very dull guys and put myself out there and got no responses to some messages and met a sort of confusing guy with whom I had a lovely time but I probably won't see again (long story), I'm fucking exhausted. I'm tired. I am over checking my email to see if anyone "liked" me or messaged me. I'm over getting the email from them showing me my "matches," I'm over looking at the same group of matches over and over again because even when you say oh man, I'm so not interested (that guy looks like a goth Abe Lincoln, top hat and all) and hide their profile, five minutes later it's right there in the group of the same faces you cannot possibly look at one more time.

I'm tired of feeling rejected by someone I don't even know. I'm tired of fishing when I don't even know what I'd do with these fish when I get them. I work at least forty hours each week. I want to spend my down time with my kid, and I'm so selfish of that time but there's so little left for anything else. So why I am getting angst when that guy who was kind of cute and said some kind of funny things in his profile is not messaging me? WHY DO I GIVE A SHIT?

I'm not good at this stuff. I'm just not. I accept that the universe has been trying to tell me for over thirty years that Jen, you are totally good at some stuff. When your head is not up your ass you're a good friend. Your kid thinks you're a good mom. I was a good daughter. I like to think I'm a good sister. Many times I feel like I'm good at my job. People look forward to seeing me and spending time with me. These are the people by whom I should judge my likability. NOT some random guy who thinks he is cool because he likes all these fucking bands I've never heard of. I don't give a shit that you saw X Factor 12 in concert and have all their songs on vinyl. I just don't care. At all.

I was lucky enough to find someone to whom I was able to cohabitate for many years and we managed to create this kid who is AMAZING. The light of my life and a continual source of joy and you already know all this if you've ever talked to me for like five minutes.

And so for now, I'm done. When it comes to looking or hoping or wondering, I am done.

I want to concentrate on being a good mom. A better mom (my kid ate vegetables TWICE yesterday!). I want to concentrate on being healthier. I want to clean my fucking house. Dusting and all. And I don't want to keep being sad because I feel like nobody likes me everybody hates me guess I'll go eat worms. Because I know I shouldn't internalize that shit and yet I do. And then I eat some comfort food and cry and and that is not energizing, it's the opposite of that. So I'm over it and I'm done and I can't even.

But I'm optimistic about letting go. Writing this down has made me feel lighter already. And I don't know that this will help anyone else but if anyone has been where I have been, I really hope it will.

I've always felt I can be happy all by myself. But it's not even that I'm by myself. I'm surrounded by love. If that does not currently include the love of a tall hairy chested guy, I'm so very okay with that. So very okay.

When Some Little S#$t Gives Your Kid a Hard Time and You Don't Punch Them and You Turn It Into a Growing Opportunity For Your Kid

So there's this kid in my daughter's class, and he was in her class last year, too, and how to put this... he's sort of a jerk. And I base this not on secondhand info from my kid, I base this on my own observations because I'm lucky enough to have weekdays off and go on many field trips so I've seen for myself, the kid is kind of a jerk. Now, I can remember last year thinking that, in very general terms, second graders can be assholes. I remember this because I remember talking about this with a friend who has taught second grade and who I believe straight up said, "Second graders are assholes." If your kid was not an asshole in second grade, or if you're thinking, well, mine will NOT be one of those in second grade, more power to you. That's awesome. But I'm just saying they can be.  Third grade doesn't seem to be that way so much but you know, they're kids, and I know my own kid has hormonal changes going on, the type of changes that I didn't see until I was like twelve and she's nine, so I'm sure that's a factor with some of the boys, too. That being said, I stand by my opinion that this kid, we'll call him Jerry (because Jerkface Jerry), is a bit of a jerk. A troublemaker. A pain in the butt. The kid you see on the field trip and think wow, I'm glad that I have MY kid.

So for whatever reason, Jerry has got MY kid on his radar. There have been a couple of little incidents I've heard about where he's being a jerk to her and at least one time where he was encouraging some of the other boys in the class to also be jerky. And I'm like well, he's a boy, they can be so dumb (because really, is it ever too early to let your daughter know this?), just ignore him. Which reminds me of my dearly departed mom telling me this when I was a kid and my little brother was driving me up the wall and I was like well, how about he not be a jerk and then I have nothing to ignore? But her advice was golden: If you want to tease someone and you don't get a reaction, then you're going to stop teasing that person because how fucking boring is that? So this is what I'm going for with the kid.

Yesterday she comes out of class, and I can tell she's been crying, and she says that Jerry said she was "ugly and pitiful." So my first reaction was an honest one. I said, "Wow, that was really jerky of him." Some of her friends appear to check on her and I was like look, do these guys think that about you? No, they don't. And whose opinion matters, theirs or Jerry's? Oh, and I'm not sure if it was yesterday or another time but it came up that Jerry also called her fat. First of all, she's not fat. Second of all, even if she were overweight, eff you, Jerry, for calling her fat. And apparently he started in on his jerkiness by calling attention to the fact that she is not a fan of elevators or heights, because on the last field trip she mentioned this (I was with her in the elevator) and the field trip before that it involved sitting in a balcony.

Anyway, we came home and spent some time cuddling because no matter how much you know some jerk's opinion doesn't matter, it still hurts. Especially when we're super sensitive and my poor kid has my genes so she is SUPER sensitive, which is another reason why she's a great target for Jerry, because he figures he can make her cry. She's not even crying when we're cuddling, but she's bummed. So this makes the mama bear in me want to go to the school, pick up Jerry by the scruff of the neck, drag him over to some bushes, and just leave him there. Because this is my baby and he's hurting her with his words. I said maybe I should say something to him.  And she says, "Yeah, Mom, and use your STERN voice." Which cracked me up because apparently I have a stern voice that comes out on the 4th time I'm telling my kid to do something, and I love that she picked that adjective because it sounds so parental. But then I thought you know what, I'd like to give my kid the tools to deal with this. So here is what we came up with for now: Should Jerry decide to drop a jerk bomb on her, she will just look at him for a minute, and then in the most uninterested voice she can muster, with a blank look on her face, she can say, "Huh. That's interesting." Nothing more. I am hoping her lack of reaction coupled with this condescension that even a nine year old boy should be able to comprehend, that she completely fries his circuits and he deems teasing and/or bullying her to be boring, an exercise in futility because there are no tears and impassioned insults from her (because yes, she is sensitive, but she will also express her feelings and tell you EXACTLY what she thinks of you). 

This morning we're in front of her class and I see Jerry and I swear to goodness that I had this visceral longing to go upside this kid's head. I don't even believe in corporal punishment and I certainly don't believe in handling conflicts with physicality (which is obviously different if someone were in a position being forced to defend themselves which I suppose is a whole other can of worms), but I'm just admitting to all of you that I wanted to clobber this kid. Instead I said, Jerry, have a great day. I know he heard me, but he didn't even meet my gaze. So I said, and this time louder, Jerry. He looks at me. Have a great day. He mumbles, okay. But I'm thinking yes, you little jerk, have a great day so you don't decide to fuck with MY kid because you have your own set of issues. Do I have compassion for Jerry because I'm sure his jerkiness is stemming from stuff that has absolutely nothing to do with  my kid? Yes. Do I still think he is a jerk who better leave my kid alone? Yes.

We're in third grade. When I was in a third grade boys didn't even know I was alive to tease me. I was as quiet as a little mouse and flew under the radar for most of my academic life. But my kid (and yes, I'm biased) is beautiful, she's smart and sassy, and she speaks her mind. She has moments of shyness and moments of extreme sensitivity, but she will not be able to fly under the radar the way her mother did, and frankly, I'm glad about that, even if it means dealing with another Jerry here and there. Or this particular Jerry from now through junior high because at least in high school boys might not be as much into name calling, right? I mean I'm forty-five in June and I know boys still bug me. They still make my heart hurt, they still do stuff or don't do stuff that drives me nuts. But obviously I've got a bigger tool box with which to deal with boynanigans than my nine year old. So I'll continue to be there for hugs and support and advice and encouragement (when she was less than enthusiastic about going to school this morning I played Taylor Swift's "Shake it Off" while she was in the shower), and I will not pick up boys bear-style and drag them away from the classroom and throw them into a ditch made just for jerks. 

Being a kid can be tough. Being a mom can be tough. But I know we'll get through it.