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This entry is “R” rated. Just so you know. You either want to shut this shit down right now, or hang on tight. But I’m telling you with fair warning…this entry is not for the “GASP did she really just say that-ers”! No siree Bob. This is for the, “bitch-please I feel the exact same way-ers”! So, let’s get this show on the road. I am perturbed, and I need to vent. And when Jen needs to vent, you know it’s gonna be anything but Disney on Ice. I just can’t take it. I am having one of the biggest conundrums of my post-divorce life, and I just need to share it. I feel ashamed. And dirty. And well, like I’m doing something wrong! But am I really? Ugh! Let me just put it out there. Here goes nothing…

Is it wrong to want to be treated like a Princess…but have sex like a Pornstar

Age is only a number. 

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. 

You are only as young as you feel. 

Beauty is only skin deep. 

You can’t judge a book by it’s cover. 

Love is blind….

I spent like forever, explaining these cliches to my boys. Cliches are kinda hard for kids to understand, right? They are confused by there hidden meaning, and lack of original thought. Often overused and trite. And they rarely even make much sense at all. But I use them ALL the time. Figures. I am the Queen of the Cliche. My kids are super-sick of them,  as I run around the city singing from the rooftops…those in glass houses…. or, two birds in a bush! Or my all time fave, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree! Ha. Jonah just doesn’t get them, and Zac, he just wants to kick my ass. But recently, J&Z have been interested specifically in cliches discussing “physical attributes”.  And why you ask?

Let me explain…

Well, I’m about to win “Mother of the Year”. This one is good…

I’ve let them into my world. My dating arena. Yup. I have. Oh, shut it. And stop your judging… let me finish before you start hemming and hawing. I let them join in the fun on Match. com, and JDate. Pick up your jaws. What’s done is done! I can’t un-ring the bell. ha. I’ve actually decided to let them voice their little pre-pubescent opinions, and ya know why? Because they are the most important men in my life. And they think it’s cool. So, we sit on the couch, and we read the profiles, and talk about what these yo-ho’s have written. And they see what they look like, and what they do for a living. If they have dogs, or cats. Do they have kids? Jonah is all for the kiddos. Zac, not so much. But we discuss, and talk….and they feel like they actually have a small part in what I’m doing. And I let them have a bit of input. A touch of control over this mess of a life I’ve handed them. We never make fun of the guys. we just discuss. Ok, well.. maybe we poke a little fun. We don’t like certain sunglasses. And some of the guys carrying shovels, or power tools get a chuckle.

But most importantly, I used this as an opportunity to talk about how there are different strokes for different folks. lol. And what I find attractive may not be the same thing that another person may dig. And if J thinks a girl is cute at school, it doesn’t mean that his friends will agree. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder... and Jonah completely got it. Phew. A good lesson learned. My work is done here. Cliches at their finest. The Queen has spoken…

But is love really blind?  

Aren’t we really just judging these “books” by their covers? 

Do people honestly believe that beauty is more than skin deep? 

I have to vent. Duh. And share something that totally pisses me off about this dating crap. If the old cliche holds true, and people really do believe that it’s what’s inside that counts…why do these guys LIE? Why do these men post pictures of themselves from 4 years ago? Why are they so afraid to tell the truth about who they are, and where they are in their lives NOW? And it’s not just the men, I get it. It’s the women, too. But I’m only looking for men.. sorry. lol.  I call them “10-20’s”. 10 years older, and 20 lbs heavier. I heard that from a guy friend of mine, and I almost plotzed. How flippin funny is that? 10-20’s. I actually had a great guy once tell me he was “advised” by his people to lie about his age. I shit you not. His friends told him to “adjust” his age, because he looked much younger than he actually was. Come on!! How can you start a relationship based on a lie?

Now, here is the most disappointing thing that has ever happened to me, since I started this whole thing. I started talking (texting and calling) this guy from a dating site. He was funny. He was smart. And successful. Almost TGTBT. And girls, when a man is too good to be true…he usually is. Am I right? I shoulda sensed it. Or smelled his bullshit from a mile away. But no.. I was hooked. He was super-sexy. He said all the right things. Yummy. But he never asked me out. His profile pix were hot!!! He was slim, and tall. In fact, there were surfing pictures. Him on a SURF board! And it read, 175lbs, 6 feet. I was ready for our date. But first, let’s go to a little back story about me. I love men. I don’t care what they look like. And my friends from the D can attest to it. In my past.. I have dated them all. Every shape and size…as long as they make me laugh, I don’t care. If he’s good to me, and makes me smile….he could be 60 years old, and 350.

We finally went out. Sadly, he lied about everything. From his age, to his weight. To his height…and what he did for a living. I was so floored, I was actually quiet. Me, silent. But in my heart of hearts, I couldn’t muster up enough chutzpah to tell him to fuck off! I thought, what if it was Jonah? Or my little brother? So… I sat at dinner. And I was sad. I had spent time, and energy on this person…who had lied. Lied and truly, hurt my feelings. And if he knew the person I am, he would have realized that if he was HONEST in the first place, I wouldn’t have given two shits about his age, or size. I would have probably hung out with him just the same. Dumb bunny.

So, I thanked him for dinner. And hugged him goodbye. Told him it wasn’t a “Love Connection”, and we never spoke again. Not sure who felt worse at that point? If I was a betting girl, I’d say we both felt like big pieces of shit. Me, for not getting over his looks. Or his man boobs. Or his flat out deception. Or him, for thinking he couldn’t be himself, and still get a date. Ugh. And the worst part of the entire thing? I lost a friend. A really, cool friend.Wait, who has a good cliche for this scenario? I need to “circle around”! Pull the whole thing together. Fuck. Now I’m depressed. I feel like a bad person, and I can’t close my dang blog! What kind of writer am I?

I got it!
Everything happens for a reason.
Perfect. This person came into my life for a purpose. To teach me a lesson. And when I told my boys about what happened, they didn’t laugh. Which made me proud. In fact, they felt really bad for the guy. And they asked me why I was “judging a book by it’s cover.” Ha. I guess they really do get it, huh? See, something good came out of this nightmarish situation. And look, I did win “Mom of the Year”, after all.And what else did I take away from this? Something I can share with my readers that I think is critical information? Always, and I mean ALWAYS,  ask for a FULL BODY SHOT prior to the date! A full frickin’ body shot, ladies…the day of. Or it’s a no-go! ! Amen! ;)

xo j
I am hiding.
I wish I was kidding, but I’m not. Dang.
I am sitting here whisper-typing, and hiding from the hell that is Match.com. And I swear to G-d, I’m not kidding, I am totally whispering in my head as I type. Probably abnormal, but whatever. I want to scream. I’m in hell. I signed up for this fucking Match.com thing, and I paid for 6 months…I am counting down the days until my subscription ends. Let me just fill you in on this madness. I swear, it can’t end soon enough, except for this super-hot-soccer-guy I found. He’s yummy. And I’m going out with him tonight. Just a side note, the rest of this is hell. And if he sucks, he will be included in Devil’s spawn tomorrow.
Why would I do this, you ask? 
I was mad at Pita Boy, that is clear. This is obviously his fault. Ha. I was in need of something to keep me busy. Working out just wasn’t filling the void. Wine, not cutting it. Come on, no bullshit here. And Tinder is just so “last year”. So, I tried Match. I thought, what the hey? It’s gotta be better than J-Date. So, I filled out this dumb profile. And I never took it seriously. Not for one minute. I was just going on it to have fun! Ya know, maybe meet a new friend. Jeez!!! So I said in my profile, “Hi. My name is Jen, and I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue. Oh, and I know how to do The Wobble.” hahaha. I am dying!!! Who knew this was going to cause such a Match EXPLOSION? Now, I’m not saying I’m all that. No no. I am not. But I guess that 360 connections is a little over the top? LOL! I’m like, hell to the NO. MEN are so dumb. And silly. Who cares if I can tie a cherry stem with my tongue!!! What about my BRAIN??? What about my personality? What about my finger nail polish?
And now, I can’t shake these dudes.
It’s connected to my email. They wink. And they email. And they post. And they chat. And I want to cry. I just want it to stop. Seriously, as I type, I am getting email alerts in the corner of my screen. All their “handles”. This one wants to chat. And That one likes my pic. OMG. Really? They are all sweet. They mean well. That is a lie. They are not all sweet. Some of them are creepy stalkers. But most are nice. One of the guys I talked to asked if I like dogs, when I told him yes, he told me he would buy me one. Ummm. Ok. Thanks? I think. For the puppy present. Who the flip offers to buy a woman a dog? That is just weird!! On a dating site? I thought maybe I misread it. But no, he really offered an animal as a bribe. A doggie-bribe. Like, date me…and I will give you a dog. G-d help me. I do not want a dog, or you. Fuck. How about you lose my number, and I call PETA because giving away animals is surely some kind of violation of dog rights. Or codes. Or something. It’s like doggie trafficking. Again, I am laughing out loud in Starbucks. People are staring and I want to explain, but what is the point. No one will believe me. Not one of these people. I should just hand them one of my cards. Weirdos.
I just want to meet a guy that can hang. Be real, and chill out. No pressure. Just be with me, and have fun. Kurt and Goldie. Remember that? From one of my past blogs. Ya know, Kurt Russel and Goldie Hawn…they never got married, but live happily ever after in non-wedded bliss. The actors. Famous, sure. But they know how to do it. Just be secure enough to do their own thing, and just be. Be happy. Be content. Be enough for each other. And trust each other. Live their lives separately, but together. And know that at night, they will end up in each other’s beds. What is the big deal? Why is that so hard to find? Sigh. Happiness. Sex, sex and more sex. And pure unmarried bliss. Duh. It’s that simple. And I know this is hard to say or admit for most divorcees…but I am going to say it…
Ready?
The only bonus of divorce, if there is an upside at all…is that you actually get a BREAK from your kids! Am I right? You actually get a few days, or hours…or a week to yourself to regroup and recharge! Take it, and use it…and your kids will be better for it! 
I think it’s what most of us want to say, but just can’t. Or you’re scared of being judged. Or someone will think you’re an asshole. Well, you’re not. You are just being true to yourself. I do not want another family. Not now. I’m not there. I have my boys. I have my house. I have my life. And I’m good to go. For now. And maybe, forever. So, girls…say it! For the love of all things holy, SAY IT before you lose the one thing you have, YOURSELF! And the next thing you know, you’re doing someone else’s laundry on the weeks you don’t have your kiddos! Or you are giving up Jazzercise. Or spending your off weeks with his kids. Not to say it’s not nice, or fun to be with your man’s kids. Shit, I loved it. I love other people’s kids. I teach dance for a living. And I truly love kids. But not everyone does. Not everyone has it in them to love someone else’s children. And it’s okay to admit it. No one will hate you for it, in fact the guy should respect you. Be honest. And don’t change who you are for anyone else.
So, who wants to date me now? I look like a selfish bitch, huh? Well sorry for being honest. I want to be me. Just me. I want someone to date me. Not my kids. Not my dog. Not my ex-husband. I just want a guy to want ME. Hi, me. Just lil ole me. Enough of that, “If you want me, you have to want my kids too” crap. I’m so not there. If you love me, you will love my boys when the time is right. Plain and simple. Get to know me….and then, we can talk about blending this shiz up. But until I am 100% sure that you are the guy for me, no one is meeting my main men! I don’t care if you offer me a dog. Or a hamster. Or a new Porsche. Well, if you offer me a new Porsche, I might let you meet my kids.
Actually, if you give me a new Porsche, I will give you my kids. Is that against the law? It’s probably no worse that doggie-trafficking. ;)
xo j