Dating nurses- a rebuttal to “The Blogger”

Let me first point out, this is written in response to something a man wrote. Yes, I know he was probably trying to be clever, however what he wrote struck a sour note with me.

So, short synopsis: nurses are mean dates because they have to spend all day caring for others, while attorneys are nice dates because they are sharks all day. While I am convinced that he was trying to be clever, and to find some way to justify his large number of first dates, he ended up making some asinine comments that I wanted to respond to.

Now, I was going to make this a rebuttal. I am not. I am just going to share some of my experiences.

First of all, most of the nurses I know (and I know a lot of nurses, I AM a nurse) are multifaceted women with outgoing personalities. We tend to be a little no-nonsense, while maintaining a terrific sense of humor. We like to joke and have a good time, we trade war stories, and we spend incredibly long hours with people in various states of health. At the end of the day, it is at times difficult to turn off our nursing personas, and to be regular people.

Wait. What? We are not regular people? Of course we are! We just happen to have an all-consuming career that changes our personalities on a molecular level. (Throwing some science words in there because he likened his experiences with two nurses and two attorneys to valid research.)

One of the more interesting aspects of nursing is the necessity of always appearing confident even in truly scary situations. It’s a captious predicament. (My dictionary app had that as the word of the day, I decided to use it. It fits.) We have to portray the ever cool and in control professional, all while wracking our brains trying to figure out the right thing to do. Oh, and now let’s throw in the fact that we do not want to seem like a know-it-all, and to presume to tell our coworkers or the physicians we deal with what to do. Through out all of this, we also have to figure out what we need to happen, and to make it happen without creating strife. (I realize this paragraph makes no sense, however it is difficult to talk about nursing in generic terms without using specific situations that could somehow impede on patient privacy, and this is a situation I am not willing to risk.)

So, moving on from nursing. Let’s talk about dating.

I am a girl with a rather ummm…. strong personality. I am loud, opinionated, and lacking a filter. This tends to make me a rather polarizing figure. Typically people either like me or hate me. I am not one of those people to inspire indifference. (Perhaps I am wrong about this, but it has been my experience.) So, when meeting new people I have made an effort to tone it all down. I tend to try to read the situation, and to behave appropriately. I often fail.

I am either too quiet, or too loud. (For those of you shaking your head and wondering when I am ever quiet- bite me.) This tends to create a feeling of discontent within me, and then I am irritable. There is no worse feeling that knowing that you are not being cool. I know, I know just be yourself. If people don’t like you for you, then they are not worth your time. The thing is, most of us are many different things, and it is hard to know which personality to use in particular situations. (No, I do not have multiple personalities, I just have a lot of personality. Or not. Depends on who you ask.)

IMG_7736
Excuse ME????

Let me tell you about something embarrassing- the other day, Facebook called me fat. Well, it insinuated it anyway.

I gotta be honest. My feelings were hurt. For one thing, that guy looks like an ass. For another, HE CAN HANDLE MY LOVE HANDLES???? what? This is one of the infuriating things about being a fat single girl. I am no more attracted to men who find overweight attractive than I am to men who find thin and skinny attractive. Not to sound like a hypocrite, but I want a man who sees me as a person, and who supports my goals. If I were to meet a man who is “into big girls,” is he going to find me less attractive as I continue on this journey? It’s quite the conundrum. So, for now I am not interested in dating nearly as much as I am interested in becoming a healthier person.

Oh, that got off track there. Back to generic dating.

There is a real danger of judging a personality on a first date alone. We rarely show our true colors while in a new situation. If you have a ton of first dates, perhaps you need to examine yourself and focus less on the other person. Also, if you have a lot of bad first dates could it be that your personality is bringing out the worst in your potential paramour? Just to reference the initial blog that started this. If your date was thirty minutes late, it is quite possible that she was embarrassed and there is this guy who was about to leave, and now is sitting there tapping his foot in impatient and silent judgment. Yeah, that would put me on edge. I would possibly find myself being defensive and argumentative. After all, some of us tend to lash out when we are embarrassed. What did you do to set her at ease? I would imagine nothing. She was late and did not apologize. How rude. So, there you have it, two people who are feeling unappreciated, and we wonder why the date went badly.

Women are complicated. I have heard that my entire life (out of the mouths of men.) I tend to lean the other way. Women are simple. We want to be appreciated, noticed, and cared about. We need to matter.

Men are complicated. I have said that my entire life. Probably not true. Men want to be appreciated, noticed, and cared about. They need to matter.

Hmm. Maybe dating is not so complicated. Perhaps we need to step outside the box, and stop waiting for someone to respond in whatever fleeting mood we happen to be in. Maybe we should make it more about what I can do to ease this person’s insecurities. Perhaps, we need to lighten up, and just try to have a good time. If everyone spent a little less time waiting for someone to rescue them, and spent a little more time being truly interested in the people who we spend time with, we might surprise ourselves, and find the person we have been looking for.

***This is probably a mess-

***It may have some interesting points though.

***I am about to do a TM with “The Blogger”- So, if you are reading this- It may or may not be a joke. I am noncommittal on this fact. Whatever prevents you from having a defensive reaction. 😉

Dating nurses- a rebuttal to “The Blogger”

Tuesday Morning DVR Binge

So, Monday nights seem to be a pretty good TV night for me. My DVR lights come on at 7, and do not stop until almost midnight. Now, we all know that I do not like watching live TV- and it really has nothing to do with the commercials. I love commercials. Sometimes, if you are lucky they are little films all in their own right. It is because I get distracted easily and miss too much of the show. Somehow waking up seriously early in the morning helps alleviate this issue.

This morning, I got up extra early. I wanted to write, AND watch TV. I just finished Better Call Saul, and now The Voice is blaring in the background. Now, let me just say… I think BCS is even better than Breaking Bad. I know, I know. That is probably not going to be a popular sentiment. But, I get Jimmy McGill way more than I ever got Walter White. I was Team Jesse all the way.

“Look, Adam Levine’s holding me.” Wait. What? Did I just hear that? Rewind… Ha! Yep that would be my dream too. Everyone who knows me knows that I secretly fantasize about trying out for The Voice (it would be bad- I totally cannot sing), and having Adam run up and give me a hug.

oops, sorry. I got distracted. Back to BCS. Bob Odenkirk, (can I call you Bob?) is a master with this character. I would imagine that part of the genius can be attributed to the skillful writing, however I find the manner that Mr. Odenkirk portrays Slippin’ Jimmy to be smart and playful with a dash of desperation. He appears to accept his shortcomings while still battling his brother’s desire to see him change his ways. He is the quintessential little brother, both caring about and resenting his older brother’s interference. Now, I am afraid that I missed something, why was Jimmy not given a place at his older brother’s successful law firm? Seems to me that some level of nepotism should have taken place there.

Michael McKean lends an air of authenticity to Chuck’s (the older brother who bailed Jimmy out of a slippery situation) mental illness by infusing his bizarre behavior with an understated seriousness and sincerity. Pretty impressive for Lenny (yeah, did you recognize him? I did not. I was really young when Laverne and Shirley was on.)

OMG!!! DID YOU HEAR THAT DUDE SINGING “He Stopped Loving Her Today”? It is AWESOME. But, then again, EVERYTHING IS AWESOME.

So, just some random musing on my TV binge this morning.

Tuesday Morning DVR Binge

Whiplash

Boom Boom Crash Bang. 

Nope. It was not the drumming in the movie that got me. It was the extreme anxiety that the picture caused. From the opening scene, the scene that seemed to be setting the stage for a coup of sorts. A young man, banging away on his drums- he thinks he is alone, which is why he is not nervous. He is just playing. Then HE walks in. The man whose eye you hope to capture. Why? Because he is the toughest and hardest to please. However, the young man fails to meet HIS expectations, and he walks out the door. The sound of the slamming door shook me to my core. Then, the door opens, and you get to see what a perfect asshole this guy is.

Boom Boom Crash Bang. 

There is a ton of drumming, sweating, and bleeding making up this tale. However, I do not really think the movie is about drumming at all. It is about the person who pushes you to be better than you thought possible. J.K. Simmons played the role to perfection. I hated him, and yet I was oddly seduced to seek his approval. There was an odd psychosexual undertone to the relationship, and I am left wondering if this was intentional. I am unable to explain the purpose of this, however I cannot help but wonder if this is a common theme in most relationships of this nature.

There was a moment near the end of the film, when Fletcher (Simmons) acknowledges  Andrew’s betrayal; then proceeds to set him up to look like a fool. Don’t forget the speech about how this concert can make or break your career. I found the revenge to be so smart and calculated; I was shocked, and excited to see the darkness of this character’s soul. He is not a benevolent teacher, he is a tyrant. You are led onto a roller-coaster without a track to watch Andrew fight back. The moment of triumph came when Fletcher took off his jacket and started conducting Andrew’s overly long and confusing solo. One of the best parts was the bassist standing beside him rolling his eyes, almost saying who does this rugrat think he is! It was better than any fight I ever saw in Rocky. The camera is moving and pulsing with the tempo and rhythm of the movie, and my heart was busy trying to keep time.

Boom Boom Crash Bang! 

This movie was BRILLIANT! My muscles coiled and recoiled as I experienced adrenaline rushes unlike any I have felt in a movie in a long while. I was swept up in the passion of the musicians, and more importantly, their desire to gain the approval of the man who would not give it. Blood, sweat, and tears. This movie offered it all. It may have been about a jazz drummer on the surface, but the real success is in the way the movie spoke volumes about how to make a film that grips the audience, and does not let go until the last frame.

This film spoke to the part of me that seeks approval from the most demanding people in my field. It reminded me of why I work so hard to impress them. It is not for advancement, it is for the simple nod of approval when I have pushed myself harder than I believed possible. (Now, no one has ever thrown a chair at me- and if they did, I may attack them in a similar manner that Andrew attacked Fletcher.) I tend to agree, the most dangerous words in the english language are “good job.”

**However, I like to be praised. Don’t hesitate to deluge me with praise. I like it.

 

Whiplash

Too much tragedy for two days.

I have good friends. My phone is blowing up with funny text messages this morning. While it is important to feel your sadness, and to grieve for the people you have lost (and their families and friends), you also have to live your life.

This week has reminded me (despite my constant reminders at work) that life is all too often short. There are no guarantees that we will get to do all that stuff we have planned.

So, make every day an adventure. Seek new people and experiences. Love with all your heart.

Don’t be afraid. Live. It’s not going to last forever.

Too much tragedy for two days.

It’s just not fair

Yesterday I was waiting for some news. It did not come.

I did however, receive a different piece of news that left me heartbroken.

Yesterday was a very long, very unsatisfying day. (Despite the fact that I had a some really good parts of the day, it was overall mostly full of strife.)

Today, I am going to have a better day.

It’s just not fair

Yoga and Shaveanass

Okay, are you sitting down? Also, probably don’t drink anything. It could lead to an epic spit-take. I want you to imagine hell on earth… that’s right, a hot yoga studio.

Let me tell you about my first yoga class. It was at 5:30AM, and Shannon, Steven, and Christi went with me. (I was terrified)- Not sure if you have noticed this trend… I live in a pretty constant state of terror when it comes to new experiences. Yes, I know that sounds weird for someone who gets bored so easily. I should be out seeking new adventures and grabbing for the gusto or whatever that saying is. Too bad that I have a real fear of looking like an idiot, or drawing attention to myself. Okay, whatever, you know what I mean. In real life! Not on the computer. Give me a break. I realize that blogging could be seen by some as a major “LOOK AT ME!” moment. That is not the point! So, back to what I was saying. I had put off hot yoga for something like two years. Ummmm, no. Yoga? hahaha. Nope. Never. Have you Freaking seen me? What on earth makes you think I would enjoy a yoga class?

So, one day in a moment of weakness and peer pressure, Bet ya did not think that peer pressure was still going to be an issue in your mid-thirties; I agreed to go. First things first, I need a yoga mat and a yoga towel. Oh, and don’t you need a new water bottle? So, off to Target. Man, those things are expensive. I am pretty sure I will use it all the time! I am investing in my health! This is really a smart purchase. I only make smart purchases. I never impulse buy. 

So, the next morning I find myself hyperventilating in my car while waiting for my friends to show up to the yoga studio. I had no idea what to expect. Then, here comes Shannon and Steven!!! Yay! Okay, time to get out of the car. You know, you could just start the car real fast and drive off, and pretend this never happened. Oh. They saw me, and they are waving for me to come on already. Deep breath. Okay. You got this.

Once inside, we take off our shoes and head into the dungeon. Holy Crap! It is so hot in here. What on earth is wrong with these people? Okay, just watch and do what whatever Shannon does! Oh, here comes Christi! Come sit by me! Unroll the mat, and spread my magic yoga towel on top. Oh, we need those blocks? Thanks. I wonder what these are for… hmmm this is strange. Why are those people dumping water on their towels? Should I be doing that? No, that seems weird to me. I am not doing that. 

Then, the instructor walked in. Child’s pose. That looks easy. Oh, ouch. ummm that hurts my knee. And where are my boobs supposed to go? I can’t breathe. I am going to suffocate in my own cleavage. Phew. Glad that is over. Time to stand up. Okay, let me see what y’all are doing. Okay right leg forward, bend your knee, do what with my hip? Hold arms out. Hmm. Is this right? Well, close enough. Oh! Now we are going down on the ground. This is like a plank! I can do a plank! Oh, stand up again. Another plank? What the hell? Stand up. Back down. Why are we doing this? 

Oh. I am so thirsty. Why is it so hot in here. Why is that woman still talking? What does she mean breathe? I am drowning in sweat. You want me to turn what towards what? What the hell? I can MODIFY if I want to? Ugh. This is awful? How is that girl doing that? She must be an acrobat. I bet her parents sold her to the circus. Why do people do this? Is this supposed to be relaxing? I’m just going to lay here a minute. Oh. Everyone else is standing up. I hope I don’t grunt when I get up. I really need to pee. I don’t know where the bathroom is. Why is everyone else not dying? How are they doing that? I am not doing that plank thing again. I’ll just stand here and watch. I am dying. This is awful. Quit laughing at me Christi!

And so it went for about an hour. Finally came the end. Time to Shaveanass. Okay, just lay here. My nose itches, I am going to scratch it. Oh, why is my foot tapping. I wonder if my shoes are okay. Do I need a pedicure, let me look. Oh, yeah.Totally need to get the toes done. When is this going to end? Finally!!!

So, this is what I remember from my first yoga class. Shaveanass is courtesy of Tiana’s typo, and it will forever be my favorite part of my practice. (See? I sound all yogi-ish) I have a practice. Not so much. I went like four more times. I have a class paid for, and I really should use it. Maybe Friday.

Yoga and Shaveanass

My Best Friends’ Weddings and The Little Shop of Horrors

So, we all know that I am a royal pain in the ass. For those of you who don’t know- just ask my family and friends. I am BAD about follow through- and I procrastinate on everything that I am not obsessed with. Yep, a pain in the ass.

I know I shared about my love of weddings. I love weddings that I watch from my couch in my pajamas. I hate shopping for weddings. Two of my best friends have had destination weddings- and both of them led to Adventures in Shopping (Ironically, both stores shared a parking lot.) I was a nightmare. I admit it. I feel bad about it. However, it is actually funny… now.

So, my best friend in the entire world, my person, the one who has stood by me through thick and thin, okay… it’s Angela. She was getting married in Lake Tahoe. I was a bridesmaid. (Only because I love her dearly.) All I had to do was go to David’s Bridal and pick out a “tea length black dress with a watermelon sash.” The fabric and style did not matter. This is not hard, right?  WRONG!!! This is so hard. And, I hate dresses and shopping. (Not so much anymore- but, at that time I really hated dresses.) Well, I kept putting it off, and putting it off some more. I would like to offer the excuse that I was extremely busy with grad school and working full- time. But, there is really no excuse. I just lost track of time.

Now, how do I put this politely? Angela was in a bit of a delicate situation. She was like 50,004 weeks pregnant! She had a lot on her mind. (And, she is probably going to kill me for putting this in my blog. You see, I am just trying to explain the stress the bride was under.) She was trying to plan a wedding in a place where NO ONE lived. And, to make matters worse her bridal party was scattered across the country. She had her lovely baby sister, her cousin from California, and her scatter-brained inconsiderate BFF in Lubbock. I, for one, had no idea what being a bridesmaid meant, and I think she probably got the short end of that stick. So, fast forward past the bachelorette party… to about 3 weeks- possibly even just two weeks before the wedding. I still had not bought my dress, I had no shoes, and needed make-up. Basically, I had to be forced into being a girl. So, Angela decided that she had had enough of my crap and flew on an airplane to Lubbock. (Yes, I am a little embarrassed.)

Yay!!!! I got to see my best friend! No, it probably was not convenient for her. Okay, now for the horrible part. We have to go to the store and try on dresses. Remember, it is not that hard. My only goal was not to look like a sausage. Dress after dress. Rack after Rack. It was awful. Finally, I found one that I figured I could probably stand to wear. It really was pretty cute.

And, that strapless bra really made my boobs front and center. We still had to go find shoes. Turns out that shoes were not that important. I kicked them off very early in the reception. But, look at the beautiful bride. Her wedding was perfect, sentimental, and sweet. I was so happy for her.

Fast forward about four years. My dear friend, and Work Mommy (Obviously, Shannon) was getting married in Cancun. Are you kidding me? I have to get a dress and a swim suit? Augh!!! What on earth am I going to do? So, I finally asked Tracy to come help me shop. On the agreed upon date, and a little before time, I was freaking out. So, I texted Tracy to tell her I would be a little late. (I needed some time to scope out the merchandise on my own, so that I knew in advance what I absolutely would NOT be trying on.) I went into the store, did a cursory round, and decided they had absolutely nothing I wanted to buy. So, I rushed out of the store, and was hurrying to my car, texting Tracy as I hustled that there was nothing there. All of the sudden, there is a Suburban bearing down on me, with a crazed woman behind the wheel honking at me and yelling for me to get in the car. Dammit. I was caught. There was no way she was letting me get away.

I was drug back into the store, kicking and screaming the whole way. (Okay, maybe I used a little artistic license there, but you can imagine… I am fairly certain that I was pouting, and trying hard not to.) We enter the store, and she starts racing around like a tornado, picking up dresses and ushering me back to the dressing rooms. The first dress I tried on, I immediately took off. She was outside begging to know how it looked, and telling me to come out so she could see, while I am huddled in the dressing room in my socks and underwear slowly rocking back and forth, wishing in vain for a natural disaster to come and save me. Nope, too itchy. Nope, too hot. Nope, too tight. Don’t they have stronger Spanx? I thought they were supposed to make you look thin!

Finally about four dresses in, Tracy has had enough. I have not let her see anything, and she somehow coaxes me into opening the door, and then elbows her way in. (She’s a tough cookie, that one.) I am frustrated, and trying to come up with viable excuses for not going to the wedding. Even though I desperately want to go! I was stuck in that old rut that I so often find myself in. I was about to let my hatred of my body keep me from doing the things I wanted to do.

Now, I do not know if Tracy sensed the desperation and despair coursing through my mind, but she somehow knew what to say. She finally found something that I would at least try on for longer than 5 seconds. It was actually a nightgown! Tracy and the sales girl called it loungewear. I am sorry, it is pajamas. (I have worn it out in public several times though, and I feel really cute in it.) No, it did not transform me into a size 6. (It turns out that is impossible.) We also found a swimsuit cover up that I could wear as a dress. Finally, we found that magic combination of a dress that is not clinging to your bulges, but somehow accentuates your curves. I felt like a girl, and I felt like I would not be embarrassed to be seen out in public. Success. All in all we ended up finding something like 6 dresses and 3 bathing suits that I was pretty comfortable in. And, we had decided which dress I would order for the wedding.

Tracy was a genius. She had figured out how to make me relax, and to just go with it. Now, was it totally embarrassing to be naked with my hot little friend? Ummm, yes. Would I do it again willingly? Probably not. Here is the important thing, Tracy took the time to make me laugh. She would be honest and say no when something did not work. She told me why something did look okay. She made it less about my body, and more about me. People like Tracy are few and far between. She is one of the most genuine people I have ever met. (If you think I do not have a filter, you should meet her.) She is one of the few people who can always make me right at home. I am not sure if it is her confidence, or what, but it is so refreshing.

Now, Shannon still had a reception planned. Oh, good grief. Now what was I going to wear? I had lost about fifty pounds at this point, and was a little more comfortable shopping. So, I went to the store alone. I managed to buy two dresses, and I still had my black dress that I had already bought. I hemmed and hawed my way through that shopping trip, and was even brave enough to consider all three dresses for the reception. I ended up in the black one. I felt comfortable, even if I was a little boobilicious.

She is glowing. She must really be Jesse's Girl.
She is glowing. She must really be Jesse’s Girl.
Only the coolest chucks for the coolest bride.
Only the coolest chucks for the coolest bride.
All of us. We had so much fun!
All of us. We had so much fun!
Now, that is a beautiful bride.
Now, that is a beautiful bride.
Yep, I am in a bathing suit. Yep, I had a blast. Blame it on Mexico!
Yep, I am in a bathing suit. Yep, I had a blast. Blame it on Mexico!
Tracy and Sophi looked so pretty!
Tracy and Sophi looked so pretty!
Ty in his linen, and me in purple.
Ty in his linen, and me in purple.
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Lovely day for a white wedding. Beautiful beach, beautiful couple. So glad to be there.
So much fun at the Reception!
So much fun at the Reception!

 

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See what fun I would have missed? So glad that I don’t skip this stuff anymore.
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Christy is always good for a laugh and a selfie!
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This is all Tracy’s fault!!!

So, what’s the point? I have obviously grown a little. I go shopping on my own, and leave with something besides jeans and skull t-shirts. I am finally turning into a girl. A real live girl. (It’s about time.)

I have finally figured out, a real friend is not so selfish to avoid celebrating her friend’s weddings because she feels fat. A real friend goes out and buys a dress, and shows up to the party. She dances and has a good time. She celebrates with the ones she loves. I am so glad that my friends have been patient while I found the confidence to be that kind of friend.

My Best Friends’ Weddings and The Little Shop of Horrors