The Helicopter Mom VS. The College Tour

6AA53A74-E0C6-42A2-AD46-4CD8A6259F39Round 1 – University of New Haven, New Haven, CT

First let me say this, no offense to anyone who lives in New Haven, but let me ask you this; why? Why do you live in New Haven? To get to New Haven, which I will refer to as NHCT from here on, you have to drive through MA. This is the most boring, and unpicturesque drive, I have ever been on. Except Idaho… Idaho is really boring too. In any case, there is nothing pretty to look at, the landscape is dirty, and perpetually under construction. If you have ever driven the highways in MA, then you know what I’m talking about; pot hole mine fields, trash, and run down city scape.

Once we got into NHCT, which I have never been to before, I suddenly knew what everyone was warning me about. They said “New Haven? Eww”, “Why are you going there?”, “You don’t want to send your daughter there”, and my favorite: the silent screwed up face of disgust. We exited the highway into the ghetto, or more accurately and politely stated, a very run down area on the outskirts of the city, and drove for about five-ish miles before we came across the university, which once used to be part of Yale. Now when I, a self-professed helicopter mom, read up on UNHCT I was pleasantly surprised to read that it was once part of Yale, and that Yale resides merely a stones throw away from the UNHCT campus. I thought it was incredible news that loaded very well for the academics, and the area must be amazingly beautiful, I mean Yale is an ivy league college after all. So you can imagine the shock on my face when we drove straight through a helicopter mom’s worst safety nightmare only to arrive at the university to see that it is completely fenced in, a beautiful campus, but only way in by car and one way out by car, that I could see.

Now here’s the thing about the campus being completely fenced in; you can say it’s to keep the students in, or you can say that its to keep the “riff raff” out. I say the school is smart enough to know that no parent is going to let their child go to a school, let alone pay for said school, knowing the campus and their child are exposed to the “riff raff.” A very good friend of mine, whose daughter went to UNHCT, once told me that it was fine and her daughter loved the school. She also said that there were never any issues with her daughter wandering off campus because that just wasn’t something she was interested in. If T was like that, then I wouldn’t be having this mini panic attack right now! T is one of those brave, and daring girls who love to have adventures, explore, have fun, and see what places have to offer outside of her immediate surroundings. Especially when those surroundings are as small as this campus is. I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this… Of course the school does have its own on site and fully functional police station, blue light system, and safety app that tracks on campus and off. This should make me feel better right? Nope, although I will say that the surroundings are even more boring, and desolate than the 2.5 hour drive down, so maybe that will be a deterrent for any off campus exploring. Maybe I’ll win the lottery on Wednesday as well!

I will hand it to the UNHCT for having the most appealing academic program for what T is looking to study. Fully supported by an incredibly experienced faculty, and diverse learning opportunities and internships. State of the art facilities, and who can overlook the amount of money they give, which is a lot. For the academics and money alone, it is the school of choice, and it was cool that they gave T a free t-shirt, she has a crazy obsession with college logo t-shirts. For the surrounding environment, not so much.

Round 2 – Champlain College, Burlington, VT

On the total opposite side of the spectrum, we have Champlain College in VT, known as CVT going forward. This was the most beautiful 3 hour drive on the highway I have ever had, to date. It was nothing but lush green foliage, green rolling hills, farms, fields, mountains, blue skies, rocky rivers, crystalline lakes, and eco-friendly rest stops. There were a few solar farms along the way, but they didn’t detract from the beauty of the country at all, on the contrary, they made it even more beautiful.

Once we made it to Burlington, another city I had not been to before, we exited the highway into what could only be described as a typical rural New England town, as the city center was still a few miles up. Quaint little pizza parlors, yoga studios, smoothie joints, boutiques, and a specialty bagel shop lined the street interspersed with older Victorian style homes that got more extravagant, the closer to CVT that you got. Of course there was the beautiful specter of Lake Champlain across the street, views were interspersed with more industrial type buildings along the train track.

For being a somewhat smaller school, CVT gave off the big university vibe, with its set up right in the middle of a thriving community. This is a plus for the college student who is looking for room to move without being in the big city, and perfect for the helicopter mom who has a daughter that likes to explore. Burlington, VT having been named the safest place in the US to live, and the beauty of the city also attribute to this helicopter mom feeling more at ease with her little girl being 3 hours away at school, and there not being any fences needed to keep the “riff raff” out. They also use the blue light system along the campus but, through proven data, have not had to use it for anything other than the occasional, “I’ve been locked out of my dorm” call.

CVT did also provide a ridiculously good BBQ lunch spread, AND Ben & Jerry’s ice cream for dessert. NO free t-shirt, but they gave visitors a discount in the store, should they want to procure a shirt, or in our case, a sweatshirt. The only, so far, downside to CVT is the academics. While they are top of the game in all majors they offer, they don’t offer the exact area of study that T is looking for. As a result, she would have to double major, and combine courses only to graduate with a degree in a non-specialized field within her field. If that makes sense. But mom… they don’t require SAT OR ACT scores… HA!

In summary, the helicopter mom in me says for safety sake, CVT. For academics, UNHCT. What does T say? As of right now, she says UNHCT because the campus (not the surroundings) is beautiful, the academics are perfect for what she wants to study, she feels she could really excel at UNHCT, and after she graduates she would be more desirable in the job market because of her academic history.

I’m sure you can all imagine the look on my face right now. Needless to say it looks to be helicopter mom – zero, college tour – 1. This is only two schools visited so far so this may change, however with UNHCT being the number 1 school for her area of study, I have a feeling this helicopter mom is going to suffer a few more break downs long the way.

FYI… I did not cry once while on either tour….. ok, I may or may not have  buried my face in my pillow later at night and did it!!

Until next time…



Falling from Grace… Chapter 4

FullSizeRenderWell part of it anyways… I thought it was time for a sneak peek at my soon to be released fictional debut! Yes Fictional Debut. My first book was non-fiction, based on my own life, which was being written in tandem with  Falling from Grace. Falling from Grace, which will be my second book release, is a modern-day fictional romance with a love quadrangle, lies, secrets, revelations, and self discovery. It will ultimately be a two book story, and part of a four book series that will follow along with the love lives of two other characters from this book.

Please enjoy this little nugget, and if you feel so inclined, please let me know what you think…


Chapter Four

I had three goals for the night. One, spend a wonderful evening celebrating the success of the BU Terriers with the man I love. Two, tell that man that I was sorry for the mess I had made of the past few months and three, tell Ian that I wanted us officially back together. When we first got to the party none of that had changed. My plan was still held strong. My feelings had not changed. However, something in the last few moments had changed because standing here with my arm wrapped around Ian’s the sounds of the room becoming a very dull roar in my ears, my pulse picking up and a warmth I had never felt before spreading throughout my entire body, I was seriously considering walking over to this stranger and wrapping myself around him, letting him envelope me in his arms, letting his scent wash over me, letting him consume me.

I can’t say for sure where these thoughts were coming from. Whether they were just my bodies’ reaction to the gorgeous man across the room or whether this was fates way of kicking me in the shin and saying, “ha ha you can look but cant touch”.

Not entirely true…

This man who had a visual lock on my soul was perfect. Standing across the room I could feel the burn of his intense gaze in the deepest depths of my recesses. He was tall with jet black hair tousled in that sexy I just crawled out of bed after having had the hottest sex of my life way. There was a slight stubble covering his classically handsome face and those eyes… even at this distance I new they were the most startling blue color. The kind of blue that reminds you of ice burgs in the Arctic Ocean waters off the coast of Northern Alaska. All I could think was… nothing.

My brain had shut down. Not one thought was moving around in there. I couldn’t even say whether I was breathing or not, although since I was still standing and no one was freaking out, I must be breathing… right? Loss of breath must be synonymous with loosing your hearing because I’m sure my heartbeat screaming in my ears is not the only sound in this crowded room right now but somehow my feet worked because instinctively I took a step away from Ian and towards this stranger.

“…. G” The sound of Ian’s voice somehow broke through the haze that had settled over my brain and though it still felt like strong masculine hands were caressing me from the inside out I managed to drag my gaze away from tall dark and handsome to look into the questioning green gaze of the man on my right.

“I’m sorry, what?” I prayed with everything I had in that moment that Ian hadn’t noticed what just happened.

His warm smile and soft chuckle eased my rising anxiety. “I asked if you wanted something to drink?” He said as he reached up to smooth his fingertips over my cheekbone.

Returning his smile I said, “yes, please!”

“Something fruity or…” Letting his words trail off I smile sweetly at him and laugh softly when I say “Stronger, please.” His answering chuckle was followed by a soft yet claiming? Kiss to my lips before he walked off towards the bar.

Is it possible that he did see? I don’t think so. There is a small part of me that thinks he may have but the rational, the knowing side of me, knows that he couldn’t have. Ian isn’t exactly known for his subtlety when it comes to marking his claim on me where other men are concerned. Surely I’m just being paranoid and perhaps feeling a tad bit guilty for my reaction to this stranger who is right now at this moment walking towards me. Oh this cant is good. Quickly looking towards the bar I notice Ian is locked in a conversation with one of the teams coaches and another man while they wait their turn at the bar and when I turn back around he’s there. This man who made me want to cross the room and crawl up his body is there and all I can do is stare straight into his chest.

He’s taller than I thought him to be. Maybe about six foot two. Again all rational thought seems to have slipped from my brain. I try my hardest to focus on my breathing. Maybe if I can do that then I can survive the next few moments. Not likely. Somehow a single thought breaks through. The realization, that this is it. This is the moment. This is the blink that will change my world forever.

“Hello.” His voice, deep smooth and accented slides over my skin caressing it the way his gaze caressed my very being. My eyes blink closed, my lips part infinitesimally on a sharp intake of breath and after what seems like an eternity my eyes open and I look up.

“Hello.” My voice comes out as a breathy whisper causing a knowing smile to spread across his lovely full lips…. God! Could I be any more transparent?

For a moment we both just stand there gazing at one another. Him with a beautiful smile, his hands in the pockets of his black dress pants. I can tell he is very well built under his black V-neck sweater and grey collard shirt. The sleeves of which are rolled up and pushed up his muscled, tattooed forearms. For the love of all that is holy…. I think my mouth just went as dry as the Sahara.

And then there is me… I can just imagine what my face looks like. Wide eyed “oh” face comes to mind. It takes a mental smack down before I can mange a small, shy smile. What is wrong with me?Taking a very deep breath, which is actually a mistake because it allows me to draw his scent in, clean, musk and man. Pure unadulterated man…. It seems as though a lifetime has passed since I had used that term to describe another man. As if my brain wasn’t clouded enough. Stealing my nerves and trying my hardest not to sound like an ogling maniac I clench my right hand into a tight fist before flexing it and holding it out to him praying to all the gods of totally thrown off her confidence level girls for strength enough to keep it from shaking and say with a little more volume a little less breathy “My name is Georgina.”

His larger and much softer than I would have imagined hand slides into mine, his fingers enclosing my hand within his and a million bolts of electricity shoot though my arm and the rest of my body zinging from nerve to nerve waking them all with a very resounding “hello”

“Its very nice to meet you Georgina. My name is Liam.” If my panties weren’t already wet they would be now. His accent, British, was doing things to my body that filled in the very few gaps that being in his presence had left open.

I remember thinking that I was in so much trouble as I said “Likewise Liam. Its very nice to meet you as well.”

The last time I had feelings like this stir within the depths of my being was when I met Ian. Although this time it was a little different. I cant say what exactly was different about it and I had every intention to try and figure it out later. Later being the key word because right now all I could think about was the feeling of my hand in Liam’s and I didn’t think about how those same hands would feel gripped in my hair holding my lips to his. I didn’t think about how those hands would feel skimming slowly down my body. I definitely didn’t think about how those hands would feel cupping my breast intimately and I most definitely did not think about how those hands would feel pressed against my most intimate down stairs region. Nope. Definitely did not think about all the ways those hands could make me moan with pleasure. Shit…

As if all of my thoughts were laid bare at his feet, Liam smiled sweetly, not one of those cocky all knowing smiles but a genuine sweet make you swoon kind of smiles and then he surprised me when he said “you feel it too.” A statement not a question and if I wasn’t so focused on him I might not have heard the softly spoken words. Definitely in trouble…. I didn’t know what to say so I slowly nodded my head YES!! Yes I feel it to and YES I want to feel more and YES I like how it feels. Yes yes yes….

NO!! No, this cannot be happening right now, not tonight, not ever. I had a plan damn it! Tonight is the night I was supposed to officially give myself back to Ian. Tonight was the night I was going to tell Ian that I wanted all of the things we always talked about having together. Tonight…. Tonight is the night I instantly fell in love with another man.

“A penny for your thoughts” he was trying to be gentle with my fragile currently fracturing self-control.

“Um… I’m sorry, I…” I couldn’t help the nervous giggle that bubbled up from my belly; thankfully it was soft and not loudly obnoxious. “Are you an alumni of the school?”

UNDERSTANDING isn’t an option…

Understanding certain things in life just isn’t always possible… for me anyways. Like for instance, how do I still have a driver’s license? Most of the time I have no idea how I got from point A to point B because I was obviously day dreaming. It’s a miracle that I’m still alive!! I drive like a maniac. I have zero patience for other drivers; slow drivers, stupid drivers, reckless drivers… ALL OTHER DRIVERS!! I swear, and yell at other drivers, out loud, even though they can’t hear me, because I’m irritated by them. This is why I need a driver.

Then there is this little gem: how have I not been arrested for first degree murder, several times over, by now? Most of the time, and I do mean MOST OF THE TIME, with exceptions of course, I want to throat punch people, whack them upside the head with whatever is in my hand, punch them in the face, and sometimes I even want to kick them in the shins. Why? Because people, not all people, but some people, are just plain stupid, rude, inconsiderate, oblivious, callous, selfish, thoughtless, ignorant, and most of all just plain dumb. Does common sense, exist anymore? Does common courtesy exist today? Does common decency no longer exist in this world? What is wrong with people? It’s not that hard to use your brain. Just access that little cavern in the back that tells you how to not be a moron.

And then there was hate; this one I truly don’t understand. As a rule, I do not hate anyone. I may dislike them, I may despise them, but I don’t hate them. Hate, while technically meaning dislike and despise, is so much more of a negative connotation when it comes to feelings towards other people. When someone says they harbor hatred towards another person or group of persons, I feel sick inside for all parties involved. The word hate just feels so much more violent, and is the root of so much violence from one to another. For instance, I was skimming my Facebook feed, and came across a post where the mother, who was white, of a black 14-year-old child, was pleading for parents to educate their children on the importance of treating people with kindness and respect. Especially if you don’t know the other person. Apparently her son, and his white friend were at the town park ready to take a swim in the lake, when two other children, both white and of an unknown age, approached them and said some very vile, nasty, racist things to her son. In my opinion, these abhorrent little creatures are the product of their environment both at home and in the world.

First, interactions like this stem from hate, but how can you can hate someone who you don’t even know? How can you justify hating a person that you don’t know from a hole in the wall, because of their skin color? Or because of their religion? Or because of their sexual preference, Or because of their nationality? It makes zero sense to me. When I form an opinion of a person, it is based solely on their mannerisms, intellect or lack there of, and their sense of humor. Sometimes I judge to quickly, sometimes I take to long to judge, but I would never, even if I determined that this person and I will never be friends, judge and dislike based off of skin color, religion, sexual preference, or nationality. How can someone justify these types of negative feelings based solely off of something so trivial? It is a wast of time, effort, and your own existence to be so vile towards another human being that has done absolutely nothing to you. Someone that you don’t even know.

Second, what kind of parent lets their child act like this? The obvious answer is the parent who also acts like this towards other people, or… the parent who has no clue what their child is doing and how they are acting. Children are a product of their environment, if you, as a parent, act with hate then expect that your children are going to act with hate because that is what they see at home. If a child has absentee parents for any number of reasons, then it stands to reason that children who are not taught how to act decently, will not act like decent human beings. We need to do better for our children! Our children are our future! At the rate this world is going today, I’m afraid to see what it will be like in another forty years. I know that I have taught my daughter to be a good person, to treat others with kindness, and to treat people as she would want them to treat her. It’s not that hard. It’s an easy concept to grasp. Why are we as a society failing so miserable at it?

Lastly, it is easy to blame the current administration for the upsurge in public hate crimes, again we, not everyone but some, will inherently act the way we see our superiors act. For instance, if we see the POTUS getting away with sexual harassment, bribery, blackmail, racism, domestic abuse, child neglect, fraud, hatred, and general stupidity, then why not think it is okay for the little people to do it to. Well, NEWS FLASH AMERICA, IT. IS. NOT. OKAY. I’m sure that you have figured out that I am not a Trump supporter, but that does not mean that I do not respect the office to which he sits. While I think he is making a mockery of it, he is, at the end of the day, just another man. Albeit a man in a position of power, and therefore he should act accordingly, BUT… and this is a BIG one so pay attention… teach your children right from wrong. If they see it on TV, tell them it is not okay. If they see it on the streets or in school, tell them it is not okay. If they see it at home, reevaluate the way you act and tell your self and them, that it is not okay.

My parents always told me, I still always tell my daughter, and I’m going to say it again for you: TREAT OTHERS AS YOU WOULD WANT THEM TO TREAT YOU. Otherwise, don’t be surprised when you’re the one having hatred spewed at you for no reason, because didn’t you just do that to someone else that you didn’t know? For no reason at all except your own sick satisfaction?

Again… I have said it before, but we need to do better for the future of our children and this world.

Until next time…

P.S. I will still probably drive like a maniac, so be warned. And I will still swear out loud in the car at other drivers, but they can’t hear me. And I will still probably envision myself throat punching the person who wants to have a conversation BEFORE I have had caffeine, but I would never actually do it, so there is that.


Me & Mr. Styles

IMG_2171Originally when I sat down to write this weeks blog post, it was going to be titled “Our children“, and it was going to be political. A harsh, sad, and passionate plea for a change in the way we treat refugee families seeking asylum in our country. Make no mistake, I will still share my feelings on this tragic subject however first, I want to talk about what I learned at the Harry Styles concert last night.

First, let me just say that Mr. Styles puts on one hell of a good show! I was worried that it was going to be another teen-pop fest, with boy band dancing, and bubblegum-pop music, the likes of which would rival his One Direction days. It was refreshing, to say the least, that I got more than expected and then some. Besides the obvious, and most important part, spending time with my daughter, and her bestie, listening to music that she loves, and listens to in “times of great distress”, teen speak for having a bad day, I got to experience the enigma that is Harry Styles.

As a forty-two year old woman, who by the way is single, I’m only slightly mortified by the fact that I think this man of only twenty-four, which is a smidgen less than half my age, is completely, and utterly handsome. Harry Styles is debonaire, suave, and he exudes an innocent charm. Please understand this opinion is formed purely based off of his mannerisms on stage, what I have seen in the media. Obviously I don’t know Harry Styles personally, otherwise there may be some conflict; with my robbing the cradle and him being my son-in-law…

Anyhow, if that wasn’t enough, something I didn’t expect was to find out that Mr. Styles only has one album out, and he actually had to work to get where he is today, BUT for me, I was impressed to see that he had partnered with Nalgene and Reverb to host a Green Tour. Concert goers are educated, to the extent they will retain, about the mission for, and importance of, a more ecologically sound environment by reducing the impact the tour will have on our environment; for the sum of $20.00, you can purchase a water bottle which can be filled, refilled, and refilled again at the portable Reverb water stations located around the stadium. As a parent, the $20.00 was worth the donation to avoid standing in lines at the concession stands, and paying $6.00 x 3 people, per bottle of water (that’s potentially $36.00 for 6 bottles of water). As an avid recycler, composter, water drinker, and shop local advocate, not throwing numerous plastic bottles in the recycling bin felt great. To take it one step further, by partnering with Reverb, Harry’s entire tour is “Green”; locally sourced foods for the catering room, biodiesel fueling, composting, recycling, carbon offsets, and more. After some research, I learned that this has been a regular thing with many touring artists since 2004. Why is this the first time I’m hearing about this? Simple, none of the concerts I have been to in the past fourteen years have participated; Taylor Swift, Jay-Z, Justin Timberlake, One Direction, radio station sponsored concert festivals, etc… Why are more artists not participating in this “Green” initiative? But I digress.

Getting back to the subject of refugee children being separated from their parents, part of Harry’s concept is to “treat people with kindness”, and to voice his acceptance of ALL people; his concert being a safe place to express your self as an individual. This was refreshing to me, and this being Pride Month, there was a huge show of support for the LGBTQ community. What stuck with me was the message of treating people kindly. While I sat there observing the young people around me, I noticed the lack of adult supervision. Now I admit to being a helicopter mom, but realistically, is it a smart parental decision to let two seventeen year old girls, who have never drive into Boston alone before, or who have never ridden the commuter rail, attend a concert at the Garden by themselves? Not in my opinion. Granted, they will need to learn someday,  but for me, last night was not that day. It blew my mind at the number of teenaged girls running around Boston, the Garden, and on the commuter rail alone in only groups of two or three.

While parents are physically having their babies ripped out of their hands at the border, people who live here already, are voluntarily letting their children roam free hoping that they don’t get lost, mugged, rapped, murdered, and even kidnapped. It takes a lot of faith in humanity to let your children out into the world today. From April 19, 2018 thru May 31, 2018, 1,995 children were separated from 1, 940 adults at the U.S. – Mexico border by our own Homeland Security Agents. Every year, over 300,000 Americans under the age of 18 are lured into the commercial sex trade. Roughly 800,000 children are reported missing each year in America. If our current administration continues to allow this separation of refugee families, there will be an estimated 15,520 refugee children placed into the hands of DHHS this year alone. Lets not forget to mention the socioeconomic impact on our nation, its finances, and our overall belief in the political system.

To no fault of their own, these refugee parents are effectively shipped home and left to the agonizing task of trying to find their children. Wondering day and night, whether they are warm, clothed, fed… or even still alive. As a mother, this breaks my heart, and makes me want to hover even closer. As a mother, over my dead body, are they taking my child, and make no mistake, I would move heaven and earth, to find my baby, and God help the man or woman who gets in my way. For refugee parents who may not even speak english, and have no resources, this could all prove to be an insurmountable feat. Thanks to humanitarians at heart, people are willing to help because lets face it, what our President is mandating is beyond disgusting. There are so many other ways that the deportation process can be carried out, and being kind to our fellow humans who are fleeing persecution, is a start. There is a difference between doing your job, and doing your job with kindness, empathy, and compassion.

The Bible says, in Proverbs 22:6 “Start children off on the way they should go, and even when they are old they will not turn from it.” There is always the potential for these displaced children to grow up hating our Nation because of the way our government has treated their families. Perhaps if we take a different, more humane approach, these children will grow to love our Nation instead of hate it. Heaven forbid we be responsible for creating our own destructors later.

Be kind to one another.

Until next time…

*Photo Cred: Me

Feelings of Inadequacy…

imagesEveryone has them even if they don’t want to admit it. Wether it’s in the bedroom, the workplace, in school, in your social life, and even when it comes to your own family.

This past Friday was T’s junior prom. Following tradition, all of the prom goers assemble at one central location within the town where their families and friends can go, and take pictures without having to go from house to house. It’s quite brilliant actually, and it gives the business who hosts it, a little extra shine on their name. In any case, it was so nice to see all of the young ladies dressed to the nines in flowing gowns, some less than others, and to see the young men looking so dapper in their tuxedos.

While playing photog to my little social butterfly, I was able to spend a few minutes here and there, people watching. This is one of my favorite things to do, not because I like to judge, but because I like to read people, and imagine what they are feeling, thinking, and even hiding. Sometimes you see some hysterical, and downright unbelievable stuff when people think no one is watching. Sometimes though, you see something that makes you sad, and this is the part of people watching that I don’t like so much.

After taking a series of pictures for T and some friends, we went back to where other friends of hers

were standing with their moms, one of whom I had noticed earlier looking to be uncomfortable, was now visibly upset, and trying to compose herself. At that moment I had no idea what was wrong with this mom, but internalized it as her possibly being overcome with emotions by seeing her daughter all dressed up for prom. The idea that in just over a years time, her daughter would be graduating high school and going off to college, weighing heavily on her mind. It wasn’t until later, after overhearing T and her friend talking, that I realized this mom was feeling inadequate.

As a matter of self preference, I choose to get dressed up in a nice, yet still casual manner  when I attend school functions, official or not. As a matter of parental pride, I am happy that T and me have the type of relationship that we do. One where she wanted me to follow her, and her friends around taking pictures, chatting with other parents, and just being together in this milestone moment for her, and lets face it, me to. Apparently this particular mother daughter relationship is a contentious one, and as a result left the mom standing lost in a sea of people, while her daughter flitted about taking photos. From what I understand, the mom thought it was because she showed up wearing a t-shirt and shorts, asking the daughter why she didn’t tell her she had to dress up.

Now I’m going to skip over my thoughts on why defers to her daughter for the occasions dress code, but who cares that she wore shorts and a t-shirt? I didn’t. There were plenty of other parents there wearing shorts and t-shirts, because let’s be real, it was a very humid ninety degrees. Of course if you just crawled out of the garden or out from under a car, then yeah, maybe a change of clothes is in order. Obviously the real problem here is the mother/daughter relationship.

I’m not a therapist, but it doesn’t take one to know that if your child is uncomfortable or embarrassed by any aspect of their home life, then that is going to affect the way they act around their parent when others are around. It was clear from the way she constantly tugged on it, that this friend was not comfortable in her dress, because it was not tailored to fit her exact measurements, and it was a little dated compared to other dresses. You then add in a mom who looks like she was cleaning house all day, and given underlying issues, you have two people who are left feeling inadequate compared to the people they are around. I would have gotten teary to. My heart goes out to this mom, and her daughter. I hope they are able to figure out their relationship, and build a more solid foundation for the future. No one should be made to feel inadequate by anyone, especially their family.

Which leads me back to… me. Very rarely do I have feelings of inadequacy, but when I do, it is usually because my family, unbeknownst to them, makes me feel this way. There isn’t anything that they do or even say to trigger these feelings within me. Feelings of inadequacy are just like feelings of anger, happiness, and even jealousy; they just exist. People go about their daily lives, make strides to be successful, have families, get married, become something, and there is always someone, like me, who feels inadequate in their own life, especially when they are in a situation to see whatever it is that makes them feel “less than”, face to face. For me, these feelings are popping up in light of the family reunion I have coming up this week.

For seven days, I will be surrounded by family members who are doctors among other accomplished professionals, married, living in beautiful homes they own, and living comfortable lives. In comparison; I am single; never having been married, “self-employed”; while I try to make a writing career take off full-time, living in my parents house; as a single parent it was hard financially, never owned my own home; I never made enough money to, and financially; things have been tough for a long time. While I tell myself that I have no reason to feel inadequate, I just published a book for gods sake, it doesn’t stop those feelings from surfacing, but instead of letting them drag me down, I plan to use them as motivation.

Motivators are always essential when you are trying to start out in any new aspect of life. For me, wanting to own my own home, live comfortably, and have a career I can love, are all motivators for me to write more, write better, and to write diversely. It is infinitely harder to sell your writing when you publish yourself, but it is possible. So this week while I ma surrounded by my family, who love me regardless and visa versa, I’m going to try to feel less inadequate and more motivated to have a life that not only I can be proud of, but so can T and the rest of my family.

Until next time…


Finding a subject for this week’s blog post has been quite arduous (I love that word), usually I have the post topic floating around in my head a couple of days prior to posting it on Monday morning. This week, not so much.

I have been watching the trends, how many people are reading which posts, and taking notes. It seems that the majority of people enjoy reading the posts that contain the more controversial and personal topics. While all of my posts are personal to a certain degree, some more than others, not all of them are necessarily “hot button” issues. So this week, in an effort to remain relevant, I decided to write about the two most recent societal focus’ and my thoughts on each.

  • Last week there was another school shooting which makes more than 18 so far in 2018, 22 to be exact. That’s an average of one per week, and we aren’t even half way through the year. It seems quite negative and callous to say it that way, but the fact of the matter is, its true. There are still roughly six months left in this year, and there is still nothing being done to prevent our children from being murdered senselessly while in, what is supposed to be a safe place, school. This 17-year-old child, Dimitrios Pagourtzis, who decided that it was his right to take the lives of his fellow students, will not be served the death penalty because it is against the law for a minor to be subjected to capital punishment. Instead he faces 40 years to life in prison. We all know what happens to child molesters in gen pop, but what happens to child murderers? Ones who are still children themselves? If it were my choice, I would delay proceedings as long as I had to, for him to turn 18, so he could then be served the death penalty. That is what murders deserve. If you intentionally and willfully go out into the world with the intent to take another human beings life, then you forfeit your own, assuming you are brought to justice, alive. From everything that I have seen and read about this tragedy, Dimitrios Pagourtzis was not ill, was not a social outcast, he was a football player on the honor roll, there is no sound proof to support his being bullied, and there was plenty of evidence to show that he wanted to commit this senseless act of violence, going as far as to basically advertise it on social media and in journals. Unfortunately he slipped through the cracks; now 8 students and 2 teachers are dead with 13 others having been injured. When is this going to stop? When will I be able to stop worrying about sending my 17-year-old daughter to school, fearing that the next school lock down due to a “threat” is going to be real, and not just a “threat”? We live in a scary time, and our politicians are saying the same thing that they have said after every one of the first 18 school shootings: “administration is determined to do everything in [their] power to protect our students” – President Trump, “we simply can not allow this trend to continue” – Secretary of Education Betsy DeVos. Actions speak louder than words. Gun control is, in part, key, and while I agree that private citizens have a right to own and bear fire arms, we need to set limits and regulations with more stringent background checks. How do children get their hands on killing machines? I am not naive enough to say or think that it’s the guns fault; It is most definitely the persons fault. Lets make it harder for people like Dimitrios Pagourtzis, Austin Wyatt Rollins, Nikolas Cruz, and Sky Bouche, just to name a few, to have the ability to take the lives of our nations future. Lets make it safer for children like mine, and yours to go to school, and live to make our country great again.
  • A Royal Wedding. Just to be clear, I did get up at 5am to start watching the pre wedding coverage. I did watch the entire wedding and post coverage. I watched intermittent coverage throughout the day, and yes, I did watch the 7pm news for coverage on their departure to Frogmore House, followed by a re-run of the wedding, which I also watched. In addition, I have been soaking up all of the social media posts, and pictures of the wedding in the days since the wedding. I understand that there are people out there who have no interest in the Royals, to them I say, to each their own. There are people out there who feel that we have more pressing issues in our country to worry about than watching a Royal Wedding, to them I say, there is nothing wrong with enjoying a small bright spot among the darkness. With that having been said, OMG… I am in love! I will proudly admit that I am an Anglophile; a person who admires Everything Britain. Ever since I can remember, I have always wanted to be there, in Britain, to live there, vacation there, and just be British. So far in my life, I have only been there once and it was amazing. My reason for being there was not so smart, but in the end, I found myself staying at the home of a close friend of mine, enjoying the country side and just being happy. Though I have never actually been to visit London, I will get back there at some point to do so. Watching the Royal Wedding makes all of my Anglophile tendencies bubble to the surface, and now I find myself looking for any reason, not that I need one, to hop on a plane, skip over the pond, and jump into the land of British society. But I digress, getting back to the wedding: critics say that the Duchess of Sussex’s’ dress was to boring and safe. I disagree, it was classic and timeless; perfect for the occasion. There was no, major, pomp and circumstance as Harry will never be king; they can have a more relaxed vibe. The ceremony its self was beautiful, and a touch political, with a masterful sermon delivered by Bishop Michael Curry, centering on “love” as a way to end poverty and war. Considering the new Duchess is biracial, a somewhat political feminist, a humanitarian, a divorcé, an actress and American, I felt that the ceremony was perfectly Harry & Meghan. Without the rigidity of Will & Kate’s ceremony, they were able to include their fun-loving, pizza ordering during the reception, friends to help them usher in a new season to their lives as man and wife. It all makes me hunger even more for the day, that I can walk down the aisle to my new husband. In fact, my Pinterest account has been put to work with “future wedding” prep ever since watching the Royal Wedding. Now I just need The Man to marry! Sounds easier than it really is. Alas, as the hopeless romantic that I am, the words “Love is Love is Love” resonate deeply within me, and I hope that if you are a Royal watcher like me, then you shed a tear or two in happiness for these two wonderful human beings.

With all of that, I say, Until next time…

To the Single Mom on Mother’s Day…

Technically Mother’s Day was yesterday, but… it is still a relevant subject. If you have been single for your child’s entire life, just a few years of it, if your child is older, younger, understands or maybe doesn’t understand; this is for you because we are all in the same boat. My boats seem to be accruing fast these days.

When I was younger, and thought about having my own kids, no where in those thoughts did it occur to me, that being a single parent was a thing. My parents were married before they had me, and are still married today. Having been raised in the eighties and nineties we saw the percentage of single mother homes recorded at 18% of the American single parent population, only growing to 24% by 2012. That’s 32 years with a small growth of only 6%. For some perspective on the situation, in 2017 there were a total of 11,667 single parent families in the United States, 81.4% of those households had single mothers. In a mere 5 year time frame, the percentage of American homes with single mother’s grew 57.4%. This is a staggering number, and the first statistic that I was lumped into as a woman.

Getting back to my younger thoughts; I had it all planned out, I would graduate from high school, go to college and graduate, start in my perfect job, meet the man of my dreams, get married, and by the time we were 30, we would own a house with the white picket fence, a dog and 3.5 kids. In reality, I graduated from high school and college, got an okay job, met a decent guy, and had a baby at 24 while still living at home with my parents. The guy turned out to suck, left, and for the most part, hasn’t been back, leaving me in the single mother household category for my entire adult life.

Mother’s day is one of those Hallmark holidays where we are meant to celebrate, the women who have sacrificed the integrity of their bodies, minds and hearts for the little peanuts who grow into tiny humans in their abdomens. The women who, to no fault of their own, can not or don’t want to, biologically have children, but have adopted them into their hearts, homes, and lives. The women who have taken in and raised, for one reason or another, their grandchildren. The foster mom’s, the step-moms, and the honorary moms. To all of you, I say Happy Mother’s Day, but understandably, I can sympathize, empathize and identify, with other women in my similar situation as a single mom, and the reasons why Mothers Day is awesome, but breaks your heart a little at the same time.

Raising one child on my own was hard enough, I don’t know what would have happened to me if I had, had more. When they say it takes a village, they definitely mean it. Without my village, my mom, dad, and brother, I would have never made it to daycare on-time, on more than one occasion, to pick T up, let alone pay for it; the daycare expense is like a mortgage payment without the house. When I went into labor, I wouldn’t have known what to do or how to get to the hospital. I wouldn’t have had a clean mattress to come home to. That second month when I was laid up for six weeks with a blood clot, we both would have been lost. The sleepless nights when I needed a break from the 2am feeding, and the 3am one too. All of the school and extra curricular functions they went to with me, because I didn’t want to be there alone. All of the diaper changes, bottle cleaning, meals fed while I was at work. All of those nights I worked until 11:30pm, and homework, bath time, and dinner got taken care of. Soccer practice runs, last-minute things forgotten by me before she got on the bus. Being home when she got off the bus. All of the past mothers day’s, Christmases, and birthdays when they made sure she had gifts to give me. All of those nights I wanted some adult time out with friends. Throwing my baby shower, housing birthday parties, sleepovers, and the endless other things in-between. Doing it alone would not have been impossible, but infinitely harder.

As mothers who co-parent under the same roof enjoy the spoils that Mothers day offers, I find myself, and image that other single moms do as well, thinking about the things that I have, and have not, been able to give my child throughout her life. Not just because I am a single mom, but because I am just that, a mom; I am not a dad.

Mothers and fathers offer two different perspectives when it comes to being a parent. A child from a single mother household, only receives that one perspective, and has to rely on other sources; mom, a relative, friends, in order to get the other side. Of course the same is true for single father households. Depending on the gender of the child, receiving only a moms perspective can, while proving to be effective, be detrimental or not helpful. For instance, if my child was a boy, I would have no idea where to begin when it comes to masturbation. Lucky for me, I have a father and brother, who would be able to help, but without that benefit, I would be floundering around in space without my helmet.

Households with two parents means that there are two people to share the decision-making, two people to share the rule setting, two people to share the handing out of punishments, two people to share the carpool duties, snack runs, diaper changing, middle of the night feedings, parent teacher conferences, two people, in most cases, to earn the household income, two people to support each other when times get frustrating, two people to share the household management, and two people to field the questions. Simple math says, 2-1=1; One parent doing all of that, and hopefully managing to beat the  statistics: suicide, homelessness, education, criminal activity, abuse, addiction, teen pregnancy, behavioral problems, and runaways.

So far, I think I’m doing pretty good. T is almost eighteen and headed to college once she graduates from high school, she hasn’t made me a grandmother yet (knock on wood), isn’t a convict, addict, and has beat all of the other statists, but by far the most amazing thing she has done, was to make me a mother; her mother.

I said it once before, and I will say it again; being a single mom is hard work, everyday, but at the end of everyday, we have the amazing knowledge that we have created someone beautiful, who is ours and ours alone. Wether you share custody or not, you are responsible for putting the best impression of yourself out into society for others to see and know. Congratulations on surviving, and don’t give up, it is hard, but it is worth it no matter what the trials that got you here.

Happy Mother’s Day and Until next time…


SNEAK PEAK… Always & Forever

My new book is going to be titled; Always & Forever. It is a modern-day love triangle with some twists and turns. Currently it is not finished, but in the works.

Here is a preview to get your appetite up…

I can feel Ian’s breath on my face, minty and warm… “I missed you today”

After one more deep breath I open my eyes and give a little smile “I know”

The first touch of his lips to mine is whisper soft, gentle and sweet. Then before I know it the pressure increases and his tongue glides along my lower lip asking before taking my mouth in a possessive, bruising, punishing kiss. Ian’s erection presses into my core causing a moan to escape my mouth. Even through the thin material of his boxers and my sleep shorts I can feel it hot and throbbing… Ian skims one of his hands under my tank top his palm warm against my cool skin until he is cupping one of my breasts in his hand, rolling and pinching the nipple. I can’t help it my treacherous body responds and my back arches, Ian chuckles lightly as he licks my lips and says “I know what my girl likes” before he returns to my lips grinding his erection into me harder.

Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that this shouldn’t be happening I know that I need to stop this because it’s not going to make what I will say to Ian tomorrow any easier. Dirty. I feel so dirty. But it feels so good. I find myself getting lost in the moment and just before I spiral out of control I see the most piercing blue eyes looking into my soul and that’s the clarity I need to put my hand over Ian’s, stilling his movements. “Ian…” god why couldn’t that have come out a little less breathy. “Please…” what can I say…. “I don’t want the girls to hear us.” I watch a few different emotions frustration, annoyance, anger, and understanding?  Cross his face before he smiles that heartbreakingly beautiful smile, smacks a playful kiss on my lips and says “that’s why we sleep at my place remember?” oh yes… I remember all right. With that Ian slides off of me and pulls me into his arms wrapping himself around me, my head on his chest.

The last thing I remember before falling asleep is thinking that I am going to miss having this at night; the feeling of contentment, with someone to cuddle up against.

Hot. Why am I so hot? Oh… Yes… The soft warm breathes on my neck and the vise like grip around my ribs and legs makes me remember. Ian. Slowly turning my head to look at the clock on my nightstand I sigh softly, it’s only six o’clock. Ian has practice at eight. I’m so tired. I had the worst dreams about how this would go down with Ian. I have to wake him up. We need to talk. This isn’t something I can just tell him right before he walks out of the door. What am I going to say? …. “Babe, why are you awake so early?” I was so wrapped up in my thoughts I didn’t even notice Ian had woken up. He places a soft kiss on my neck and it just makes me feel even more terrible than I already do.

“I was hot and couldn’t sleep any longer” it’s a flimsy excuse, I know.

He chuckles softly and pulls me tighter into his body, every inch of his hard male form is flush against my body….”Ian there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

“What’s up?” as he loosens up on his grip he gives me a sleepy smile before kissing me on the lips “good morning beautiful.”

I can’t help but smile, a weak smile but a smile nonetheless “good morning.”

It takes me a few more heartbeats before I can bring myself to start. With reluctance, I pull myself away from Ian and slide out of the bed. Ian of course rolls onto his side and watches me pacing the room all of his nakedness, well practically naked, staring me in the face. Pull it together Georgina… You can do this… You have to do this.


“Ian…. I….” shit shit shit. I can’t do this…. “I love you. I know that you know this and I just want you to know that I will always love you…” Ian opens his mouth to say something but I put up my hand to stop him “… We have been here before and I wish more than anything that I could feel differently but I can’t…” before I can finish the next thought Ian is off of the bed standing in front of me, pissed off.

“No. No Georgina. I know what your about to say and the answer is no.” That one word Norings through my ears and bounces around in my brain, pinging off of every corner. I should have expected this, should have know this is what would happen.

Bracing my self for the wrath of Ian I say “Ian, please, don’t make this harder than it has to be. You and I have tried to make things work and while I appreciate all of your efforts and recognize that you are happy with where we are, I…” placing my hand on my chest to help drive the point home “…I am not… I…” moving faster than I have ever seen him move Ian has his hand around my upper arm squeezing so tightly, pulling me into the bathroom “ow, Ian your hurting me! Let go!”

Using his foot he pushes the bathroom door closed and then spins me around so my front is against the door and he pushes me harder against it using his body, his lips next to my ear “we seem to find ourselves in this position quite frequently these days G. Why is that?” Ian, who has both of my hands in his, raises them above my head clasping his right hand around both of mine, pinning them to the door. His left hand slowly skims down my left arm grazing the side of my breast his thumb gliding over my nipple through my thin tank top before moving lower to the hem of my top “You love me G, and the world knows that I love you. I will do anything G, anything to keep you” with that his hand slips under my top and slides down into the front hem of my shorts.

I know Ian would never do anything to intentionally hurt me but when he gets like this “Ian…” his name comes out on a sob, tears slip slowly down my cheeks. “Please Ian. I do love you but I need…” with a gasp my body reacts to Ian’s touch as his fingers slip into my folds, pressing deep….

“Me. Georgina you need me. No one will ever be able to give you what I can and do. No one will ever be as good for you as I am and you are for me.” Ian’s lips brush against my ear and glide down my neck softly nipping on my vein with his teeth “we belong togeth…”

“There’s someone else.” it slips out of my mouth on a breathy whimper, his hand goes still and before I can regret saying the words Ian has me turned around his hands retuning to my upper arms, squeezing so hard I can feel my hands starting to tingle. Waves of pure fury are pouring off of Ian, his face is cold stone and in this moment I am afraid of Ian like I have never been before.

A moment later my fear is validated when he slams me back against the door so hard that my head instantly starts to throb, oddly an eerie calm has come over Ian when he says “someone else?” his eyes are moving so fast searching my face, for what I’m not sure but my tears have sped up and my heart is racing.

“Ian, please… your hurting me.” I follow the movement of his eyes to his hands on my arms and as if an electric shock passed from me to him he practically throws himself away from me turning his back on me, I slide to my knees on the floor sobbing softly and rubbing some life back into my arms. The bathroom, which is small on a good day, seems suffocating in this moment. A million thoughts are racing through my mind right now “what am I doing. Am I truly making the right decision? Is he right? Oh god what have I done.”

Ian moves to kneel in front of me and without conscious thought; as he reaches for me I flinch away from him and for the first time ever I see tears sparkle in his eyes “Georgina.” Ian’s voice cracks on a soft whisper “I’m so sorry, baby I…” at that I let him pull me into his arms, he buries his face in my neck and we both sob softly.

I’m not really sure how long we sit there but at some point Ian’s tears have dried against my skin and my once frantically pounding heart has slowed my cheeks tight from my own dried tears, my nose stuffy. Ian breaks the silence first “I would never hurt you Georgina, I just. I lost my temper and I. I. I love you so much I can’t bear the thought of anyone else having what’s mine. Please tell me G, you don’t love him do you?”

Love him? I barely know him. With a resigned sigh I pull back from Ian as far as I can so I can look him in the eyes “no Ian I don’t love him. I barely know him.”

Something passes over his eyes so briefly that I’m not even sure I saw it but his arms stiffen slightly as he says “who Georgina? Who is it?”

Swallowing the lump in my stomach I try to steady my breathing but the onset of more tears makes that damn near impossible “Ian…”

“WHO?” Ian’s voice is so full of anger and hurt and his grip tightens on my waist causing me to jump in place. Dear god please let me get through this….

I respect Ian enough not to even try to make excuses or lie about what I did last night. For what I did when I knowingly brought Liam into this. For what I did when I crawled into bed with Ian after having spent an incredible night with another man. “I had dinner with Liam last night, that’s why I couldn’t see you and that’s why I didn’t call you back.”

To my utter horror and complete surprise, Ian laughs at this. “Oh Georgina… my sweet, sweet, naive Georgina. Do you really think Liam wants to get to know you? Do you really think Liam wants anything from you except a quick fuck and a blowjob? For gods sake Georgina, Liam is playing you for a fool…” his words are like a slap in the face. An ice-cold bucket of water dumped on my naked body. Like a razor blade, carving tiny lines, into my skin. I’m stunned speechless “… He probably has a girl in every town he visits. Did you honestly think he wanted to truly get to know you so you could what? What Georgina?” his words are coming harsh and biting, lashing against my already fragile nerves “did you think he would fall in love with you and the two of you could date each other while he is overseas women throwing themselves at him while your here, alone, watching from the sidelines? Did you honestly think you could have forever with a man who will use you when he wants to and set you aside when he doesn’t? Did you think maybe if your faithful and devoted to him while he is away that maybe he would marry you, oh and he will be away Georgina, this I can guarantee. Liam doesn’t play for the MLS or for the US national team. Liam plays in Europe but let me guess; he filled your head with all sorts of pretty images last night, didn’t he? He told you how beautiful you are and how much he wants to get to know you and because I know you, you were skeptical and he said…. He said you two could make it work, didn’t he?”

All I can do is nod my head. I feel like I want to vomit. I feel like I have crawled in my own personal version of hell. Liam has never spoken to me this way and quite honestly I know I should say something, stand up for myself, defend what little Liam and I have or could have but maybe Ian is right? Maybe I am being a fool but the fact of the matter remains. With that thought I find a little bit of strength, enough to say in my still small and slightly shaky voice “we may not have all of the details worked out and I may be all of what you just called me but I am not stupid Ian. I don’t expect anything from Liam, I barely know him.” with each word that comes out of my mouth my resolve strengthens and my words become a little less shaky “Liam isn’t the reason why I am putting a stop to this” motioning with my hand between the two of us “Us. You and I. That’s why I am putting an end to this. I am not happy and I haven’t been for a while. Last spring was only the beginning and it just keeps getting worse for me and instead of doing this a few months ago I just… I just let it go and now…” taking a deep breath for composure I continue “… Now it may be to late to salvage anything that we could have had. Look at what just happened Ian. It’s not the first time and I know it wont be the last time. This is toxic and I cant keep letting you…” on a broken sob I continue, “touch me physically this way.”

“Could have had?” Ian smiles at me and it’s one of those shit eating grins that means he has a plan and I’m one hundred percent certain I am not going to like what he says at all. Of course it doesn’t escape my notice that he ignored everything I just said about his physical contact words me.

“I beg to differ Georgina. There is a lot that you and I will have after this because Liam, you will get over him. You and I have more than any two people in love before us have ever had. You and I will be together again, of this I am positive.” With that last sentence Ian stands up and looks down at me, showing his tender loving side for the first time since his good morning kiss earlier by holding his hand out to help me up. I take it and once I’m standing Ian who is looking down at me directly in the eyes runs his finger tips across my left cheek bone before leaning in and placing the softest whisper of a kiss on my lips. “I love you Georgina and I am going to fight tooth and nail to keep you. Be prepared.” And with that Ian brushes past me and into my room.

I find myself standing there in the middle of my bathroom when the sudden urge to brush my teeth comes over me. Reaching for my toothbrush and the toothpaste I catch a glimpse of my self in the mirror. Swollen and puffy eyes ringed in red. Red tipped nose and flushed cheeks. My mother would have a fit if she saw me right now. My mother. I don’t even want to think about what is going to happen when my mother finds out about this. I end up brushing my teeth twice. By the time I make it back into my bedroom, Ian is gone and the sweet smell of bacon fills the air.


Follow-up to… (C)RUSH

This morning, after reading yesterdays blog about having a crush, and that crush being out of my league; so on and so forth, a very good friend of mine, from here on known as “S”, sent me a message.

The message that S sent, included a quote she had come across from a third-party source, reminding her of my blog post. It goes as follows:

“Stop for just one second. Think about all of the people you have secretly had a crush on. All of the people you’ve found attractive, but never said anything to. Every stranger you have temporarily fallen in love with on public transportation. All of the people you’ve dreamt of at night, and thought of in the early mornings. And now take a moment to realize, that you have been this person for so many people. And you have no idea.” 

This quote is everything! Especially the last two lines because, as much as we may speculate against them, they are true.

Honestly, it is hard to think of myself as someone else’s secret crush or thinking of someone else temporarily falling in love with me, but it doesn’t make it any less factual. I am that someone for someone else. I know that I am beautiful, inside and out, I know that I have a beautiful soul and heart. I know that I am deserving of love. Sometime it takes reminders from my family and friends, but at the end of the day, as much as I want happily ever after to happen as soon as humanly possible (I’m impatient that way), I was reminded last night, at “Margarita Monday” with another friend, “L”, that THE ONE, will come along at the right time and the right place. There is no forcing this meeting, and as “S” went on to tell me, by truly living my best life, for myself, and not just existing, the rest will follow.

Some food for thought on this cool Tuesday morning.

So next time we are temporarily falling in love with someone else from across the room, stop for just one second and remember, someone is temporarily falling in love with you from the other side of the room. And who knows, maybe the person you are falling in with, is the same person falling in love with you. Wouldn’t that be spectacular?

Until next time…


I Imagine there is a boat for people like me. Maybe even an island, one where your every desire is met the instant you think it. It would be the universes way of “making it up to you“; the fact that your crush didn’t like you back.

People like me, are people who have or have had, a crush on someone who doesn’t know you exist. Or maybe they know you exist, but there isn’t a chance that this person would like you back, because they are way out of your league. Like the nerd who is in love with the super model, or the book-worm who is in love with the corporate CEO, or how about the chubby person in love with the gorgeous life of the party. So many different scenarios fall under the “out of my league” category, like we are talking football leagues or something. It all sounds stupid now that I am sitting here writing this, but let me tell you something; last week working in a hotel bar, and seeing all of the people walking around, and again the other day, sitting in close proximity to my own crush, it all makes sense in a socially unjust way. Or maybe it’s all in our own heads, and we just need to love ourselves more.

Last weeks blog post was about the solo traveler, which I was (kind of) last week. For a little background, I traveled to New Orleans with a friend who was there for a conference. While she was in conferences all day, I either walked the quarter for some sunshine and air, sat by the pool to work, or in one of the two hotel bars to work. Anyways, in my blog post last week, I mentioned that it would be nice if I bumped into “Mr. Right” while on the road, or something to that effect. Unfortunately, it did not happen, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t plenty to choose from, married men aside, except I kept telling myself that they were out of my league, and to stop looking.

It seems that most people (those I encountered), not born and raised in New England, are taller and thinner. To confirm I wasn’t just projecting, I asked a few of my fellow New England travelers, who confirmed that they noticed it to. It seems that New Englanders are build heartier in order to withstand the harsher winter conditions, whereas people from the South and West, are not. Upon my arrival home, I noticed that people I know personally, who were not born and raised here, are on average, taller and thinner than those who are second, third and even fourth, generation New Englanders. For the record, I was born in New England, raised in California from kindergarten to high school, moved back to New England in high school, and am still here (that’s another story for another day). My mom is a third(+) generation New Englander, and my dad, who was born in Africa, was raised in the South to parents from Nova Scotia, and the South (I think). No, I did not inherit my dads hight or body type, except my bone structure, which is smaller than my mom’s side. For your frame of reference, I am 5’1 in height, weigh about 226 lbs (I can’t believe I’m putting that on the internet), I am very fair-skinned (I invest in sunscreen), naturally have dark auburn hair and hazel eyes.

Now that you know what I’m working with, let me get to my point, So last week while I’m walking around and working, as a single heterosexual woman, I naturally paid attention to the men around me, and found more often than not, I was telling myself that they were out of my league. Thinking back on why I said this to myself, it could have been because they were mostly tall, handsome men, dressed in business suits. You know, the Christian Grey type (HA)… Some of the men were so tall that I could have been an arm rest for them. Some were so handsome, it hurt to look at their faces. Some were just plain gorgeous, and I couldn’t stop looking. From what I heard, having been in closer proximity, some were so intellectual and intelligent, I was lost and decided to focus on the sound of their voice.

What made me decide that they were out of my league, was when I pictured us standing next to each other in a mirror; they were just so much more. They were from the “beautiful people” group and I was not. I don’t have self-esteem issues. I know I am pretty, smart, funny, and would make a good catch for any guy. It wasn’t always like this though, and after a lot of self-improvement, loosing 130 lbs. (gaining 50 back), and realizing that I am a “beautiful people“, because we all are, I regained my self-esteem, but that doesn’t mean that old insecurities, don’t creep up from time to time. Which accounts for my thinking that these men are out of my league.

Which accounts for why I think that my current crush, is out of my league. Oh yes, I said it here folks; I have a crush on someone. This someone, who shall remain nameless, has no idea that I have a crush on them, to my knowledge, and isn’t a close friend, but more like an acquaintance. So the other day, I’m sitting in close proximity to this person, and thinking about all of the, rated (PG), things we would enjoy doing together, when I hear them say that their current love interest is on a date with someone else. Belatedly, I realize that my crush could be in the same boat, on the same island as me, however this is about me right now.

Once I hear this, I immediately revert into my “he’s out of my league” mantra, and start listing all of the reasons why; taller, cooler, smarter, handsome, not their type. Then I move onto thinking about who they would be interested in; taller, thinner, cooler, prettier, smarter. I should mention, that I have no clue what the other woman looks like, for all I know, she could look just like me, except not me. So now I’m left feeling jilted by a person who has no idea that they even jilted me, and wondering why “having a crush” is even a thing. It seems like a pointless waste of time designed to force us into self-examination, and introspection. We do this enough as it is. Maybe instead of “having a crush” on someone, we should come clean with them and say, “I like you. Would you be interested in seeing if you like me too?” Whats the worst that can happen? They say “no.” But what if they say “yes”?

I’m not nieve enough to understand that this tactic opens up a whole other can of proverbial “creepy crawlies” if they say “no” or if things don’t work out after the “yes.” I suppose I’m looking at it from a time management standpoint; as a single woman in my early forties, do I have time for a crush, time to pine over a guy who has no clue I’m even pining after him? Not exactly. I need to be out cultivating relationships with the hope that one of them will be “THE ONE“, and we can settle down into our happily ever after.

Obviously, I’m good at giving advice, but not taking my own advice. If I do decide to follow my “time management” route, I’ll let you know. If you decide to follow my advice, good luck, and please let me know.

Until next time…