Nice Girls Don’t…

A few years ago I was sitting on my couch enjoying a beer. My son walked up to me and started explaining “nice girls don’t drink beer.” 

Imagine my horror when I realized I was raising this child all wrong. He went on to say “Beer is a man’s drink.” In response I felt it necessary to have another beer. 

I did not have the energy for a civics lesson at that moment. All I wanted was to drink my fantastically delicious Stella in the privacy of my own home. 

Apparently, nice girls don’t do a lot of things.

We don’t drink, swear, or have premarital sex. 

We don’t discuss politics, religion, or any other controversial topic in public. 

We don’t dye our hair bright colors, get tattoos, or pierce anything other than our dainty little ear lobes. 

We don’t argue with our elders or anyone in a position of authority. 

Nice girls don’t ever embarrass our Mommas. 

Nice girls are docile, pretty, and smell like a walk through a spring garden. They don’t discuss their periods, burp, or fart. We certainly never risk offending other people by defecating in a restroom someone else may need. 

Nice girls follow behind a man and look to the nearest man for permission and guidance.

Nice girls never rock the boat. 

Nice girls don’t have opinions. We are able to carry on a conversation that is stimulating for men, but we always avoid out shining the nearest male. 

We don’t argue, debate, or criticize. 

Nice girls don’t gossip or worry their pretty little heads about current affairs. We would not understand them anyway. 

Nice girls don’t compete with men for professional gain. Nice girls don’t attempt to break through the glass ceiling. 

Nice girls don’t make the decision to not have children. It’s just not right. Nice girls stay home and have dinner on the table by six. They raise respectable boys and girls who conform to society’s ideals. 

Nice girls don’t raise their children as single mothers without searching for a replacement father. They are always on the hunt. 

Nice girls don’t kiss and tell. They don’t wear provocative clothing. They don’t want to distract the boys. After all those boys have important matters to focus on. They have to protect all the women and children. 

Nice girls don’t watch porn or masturbate. They don’t fantasize about sex. They don’t look for a hook up on Tinder. Nice girls don’t eschew relationships in an attempt to just have a good time.

Nice girls don’t willingly stay single. They are all waiting for some prince to come sweep them off their feet with an amazing marriage proposal so they can make a home and provide suitable heirs. 

Nice girls don’t write blogs making fun of nice girls. 

Most important: Nice girls don’t say “fuck” on Facebook. 

Airplane Photos

I suppose my new hobby is taking crappy photos with my iPhone and trying to edit them in Enlight. 

Let’s keep in mind, I don’t know a thing about photo editing in any platform. So, I’ll keep turning up the contrast and stuff. Perhaps I should do some reading on the subject. 

Also, I need to add to my list of stuff to do. 

1. Learn to use camera. (After all, I bought the thing for this purpose. I just got busy.) 

Maybe someday I will manage a good photograph. I suppose the main thing is to keep having fun with it. 

Home Sweet Home

Sometimes I think it would be nice to drag my family and all my friends around with me as I travel for work. 

I imagine a huge tour bus with enough beds and room for the menagerie of pets. The cats and the dogs would be dramatically unimpressed. I’m not sure how the family would like it either. I imagine they would revolt and go running for the Texas border. 

Other days I fantasize about finding some little hideaway island where I can listen to the waves and read all day. Floor to ceiling bookshelves crammed with adventures and magical tales, music and movies filling my days. 

I know this is not reality. 

Wouldn’t it be nice though? 

Let it go

I did not know how it was going to feel to leave. I was afraid I was destined to be heartbroken. In the weeks leading up to my departure I imagined driving down the highway a sobbing mess, listening to Sam Smith on repeat with a little Adele sprinkled in for good measure. I had convinced myself I was going to regret the entire experience. 

None of this happened. Not in the slightest. I was fine. It’s funny when you stop and think about it. It was a chance meeting which turned out to be so much fun. It was also never going to be long term. I think this fact has been my safety net. I never pretended it had anywhere to go. It was always going to fit neatly into a box. For those of you who don’t know me, I have a thing for boxes. Boxes, containers, bags, and drawers. You will never catch me willingly throwing out a box. I may need it. 

It sounds ridiculously cheesy but I am learning to accept things for what they are. I am learning to have a good time in the moment. Most important, I am learning to let go of the little things. It’s really not that big of a deal.