F-Word Date

My favorite F word is…free.

You may have been thinking I’d say something else.

Well, I like that one too.

But here’s why FREE is so important to me.

I live in America, which boasts a tagline of “Land of the Free, Home of the Brave.”

Pass the bubbly!

And I used to actually believe I lived in a free country: free speech, freedom of press – freedom to make choices given the many options available to us lucky Americans.

Guess what? 

Once you sign a marriage contract, you are not free. And if your partner decides you’re not worth their love and divorces you, you will never be free again. That’s because a once-upon-a-time marriage gone sour gives license for the other person to torture you, for the rest of their lives.

It's all fun and games...til someone loses a kid.

If you have kids and a house, forget it.
You might as well jump off the Empire State Building right now, because the hell you will live through makes this free-fall sound very attractive. You’ll be free-falling anyway, but not in fresh New York air like you would if you just jumped.

This kind of free-fall is a fall from your freedom.

If your spouse is especially idiotic (Tom, Laura) and takes you to court, you may as well flee the country. The courtroom is no place anyone in their right mind wants to be; except Tom and Laura apparently like it. They feel at home with authoritarian small-minded bureaucrats, who allow kidnapping of children, because setting the children free would generate more paperwork than these automatons are already pushing.

Take my freedom = heart amputation

The children will eventually claim their own freedom, but not under the court’s crooked crossed eye. And when they do, I recommend you jump, because hitting the pavement hard will feel better than the blow you’re gonna get.

Live Free or Die, says the state of New Hampshire. I don’t live there, but I love it.

Freedom, and groove, are in the heart.

Nail Me Now Date

This is about nailing. And not the kind of nailing you’re probably thinking of. I’m talking about getting my nails done in preparation for a date.

Makeup makes me oh-so-perfect!

Do guys even like painted nails? Do guys find these brightly colored acrylics attractive or artificial? What about lipstick? Is it gross to kiss me when I have ricinus communis seed oil-polybutene-stearalkonium hectorit-titanium dioxide-carbomer-propylene glycol and good ol’ fashioned lead on my lips? Or is that appetizing?

Because us girls are going to great lengths for these often frustrating beauty routines. And it’s time we know if it’s worth it to you.

This weekend I went to get my nails painted so I’d look more like Barbie for my date. First mistake: I had a coupon. At the nail salon I frequent, they hate you if you’re getting a discount. 

Why publish a coupon if you’re going to punish your customers for using it? I don’t get that. But I succumbed to the torture in order to save a lousy 2 dollars, in order to get treated like a worthless piece of poo.

As soon as they realized I possessed a coupon, all spa pampering was off. The pedicurist's leg massage turned into an angry kneading. My toes never got the glossy topcoat, the one that makes the nail job last. The manicurist actually stood up and yanked my arm up at an awkward angle. She then brusquely and harshly slapped on the polish. It looked like a 3-year-old child had painted my nails – missed spots, polish all over my cuticles - messy mess. I gave them double the cost of the “treatment” and they refused to give me any change. I guess I was obligated to tip highly for using the fateful coupon.

 

So instead of being relaxed and feeling pampered, I was stressed, broke and pissed. All for a date.

Would you nail me now?

Baby Date

Did you ever go on a date to have a baby?

That’s right. You heard me.

You reached that point in life when it was TIME. The next Dater in your path was your target. You were ready to bring another human being into the world, and all you needed was the perfect partner.

You had unprotected sex, careless sex, and you were fine with the fact that you two might become parents.

Were you married? Maybe. Maybe not. No matter! Marriage is certainly not a prerequisite to becoming a parent. In fact, there are very few prerequisites. Perhaps, for our own protection and sanity, there should be a more challenging admissions process.

Making the baby is the easy part, the fun part. You probably weren’t thinking altogether too clearly in the heat of the moment, when it seemed like such a fabulous idea.

They don’t come with a detailed instruction manual – or even a quick-start guide. Kids are not made-to-order. Even genetics doesn’t guarantee what you’ll get. The recipe doesn’t come out as planned. But then again, does life ever go as planned? Mine certainly hasn’t.

So if you’ve already had Baby Date, make the best of it. And if you’re contemplating the idea…well…you’ve seen the warning label. Kids will ruin your life and you’ll love them more than anything you’ve ever imagined.

Or, you could just dry hump instead.

~ “There are many routes to joy. Most of them are detours.” ~