I have a question for you. Have you ever been so astounded by the words spewing from someone’s mouth all you could do was stare?
I ask because I found an old shirt in my closet today, black, long-sleeved, low-cut, one I wore as a uniform when I used to deal cards. The shirt jogged a few memories. Namely, the last day I wore it, and my “friend” Mark told me I “dressed like a slut”.
And I want to talk about why that word pissed me off.
Maybe I’m a rarity, but I don’t care what people wear. Please…
Out of all the customers who frequented my blackjack table over the years, I’m not sure why you stuck in my head. Maybe because it was the day I decided to be done with people who like to shame women past a certain age. I didn’t realize it until you showed up that morning, I guess. You seemed like a nice guy when you came into the bar and sat at my table.
We had a decent conversation, too. You said you were here on business. I chatted along, even if I could tell the only other player at the…
If you’re terrified to write, I am, too. Like, your struggle speaks to my soul.
If you’ve ever stayed up until four A.M. hovering over the send button. Or rechecked a sentence for hours until you were so over it you wanted to give up and watch Breaking Bad. But then you couldn’t enjoy Breaking Bad because you were thinking about the sentence. Or added and re-added a comma because you didn’t trust Grammarly or the experts on the internet. …
Note: I received permission to write this piece.
Are you as tired of people getting intimidated by beautiful women and being dicks about it as I am? Because I’m over it. My fraternal twin sister, who I live with, came into my room crying earlier. It’s important to note real quick she is very pretty and has been all her life.
I used to perform for a cruise line. I’m not sure what it was about cruise ships that made the dating scene so much more — I don’t know — predatory? But they did. Or maybe that’s just the sad world we live in now where women have to worry about the people who can’t compute basic respect and boundaries.
I will admit Jay, with his dark hair and expressive chestnut eyes, was gorgeous. (This is an important detail. Also, Jay wasn’t his actual name — I didn’t remember his real one. That’s how little I knew this guy.)
I’m not sure about you, but people surprise me sometimes when it comes to what they find appropriate behavior on a date. People like Will.
Will happened to be one of those unicorns who feels their “owed” something when taking a girl out.
I guess the night we went to the drive-in, Will thought I owed him a lot.
Don’t ask me why I agreed to go out with this guy. He was pleasant enough, I guess, soft-spoken, a good tipper when he came to play blackjack. We both looked like hobbits (and I love me some Samwise Gamgee). …
I have a few questions for you that have been running around the ‘ole noodle.
1.) Have you ever been ghosted before? (According to two recent studies from the Journal of Social and Personal Relationships twenty-five percent of us should be nodding our heads.)
2.) If I were to ask you what you thought about your ghosting experience, what would you tell me? The general consensus — or at least, what I used to believe, is that not only does it downright suck, it somehow automatically means you’re unworthy.
Maybe that’s why my reaction to the text I received…
This needs WAY more highlights. It's SUCH GOOD ADVICE.
But since I had enough money in my worst-case scenario fund to cover the cost of a flight, I immediately purchased a next-day ticket back to London so I could be with my family.
A few days ago, my mom and I were chilling in the backyard. We were having a nice chat when she decided to start lecturing me about using marijuana every day. The way she put it was, “I didn’t raise you to be a stoner.” I remember the words exactly because they frustrated me so much.
Now, I don’t blame my mom for not understanding marijuana. I love my mom. She’s an amazing person, but like many parents and their kids, she disagrees with how I do things sometimes. I also don’t blame anyone else who might be wary of…