Retraction Letter

From: Ms. Allyson Stagg

To: My older brother

Dear Older Brother,

I would like to publicly apologize for the inconvenience I have caused by assuming that you do not read my blog. I have given it considerable thought and following our conversation on Christmas Eve, I would like to continue writing at SwipedOut.wordpress.com and I would like you to continue reading my blog at your leisure. I retract the statement I wrote about you not reading my blog that I made in my blog post on December 21, 2017.

I am aware that this post may embarrass you and I, however I felt like I owed you a public apology for assuming that you do not read my blog. I appreciate your kindness, consideration, and the time that you have spent (and potentially wasted) reading my blog.

Yours Sincerely,

Ms. Allyson Stagg

To my readers:

I made the insensitive statement that my older brother does not read my blog based on the fact that he never comments on it about a week ago in a post that I wrote. On Christmas Eve, my brother addressed this topic and let me know that he does indeed, (sometimes) read my blog. I just want to apologize publicly for assuming that my older brother does not read my blog just because he chooses not to comment on my disaster life. I love my older brother so much and I am thankful he married the coolest girl in the world and gave me an awesome nephew. I have the upmost respect for him so I just wanted to give a public apology for assuming things that I did not know.

Per usual, I was wrong and impulsive. What’s new? *shrugs*

Xoxox,

Ally

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Foot Fetish Ally Stagg (Part 2)

Happy Foot Fetish Friday to all of my feet fans! I took these bad boys for you guys when I was in NYC because KTNV Channel 13 sent these adorable mistletoe socks to our room. Plus I just had a pedicure by the infamous LA the day before.

Merry Christmas ya’ filthy animals.

Xoxox,

Ally

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Ask Ally (Q and A Week 16)

Once again, you guys asked me questions that I am probably not qualified to answer, but as always, I’m going to go ahead and answer them anyway.

Q: You mentioned your family is religous. What are their thoughts on your blog?

A: My sister is actually a professional writer and she’s a little rebellious like myself, so she loves it. I even conned her into giving me advice on how to turn my blog into a book which I’m currently working on. She’s writing a book right now that is going to be beyond amazing. She told me about it but made me swear that I wouldn’t steal her idea. I told her that she should actually let me steal her idea because then I would do all of the leg work writing the book and she could just sue me for stealing her idea and take all the money I earned. She’d get all of the money, but then she wouldn’t have to do any of the work. She thought that idea was brilliant.

My brothers don’t say much about it. I don’t think my older brother reads it. Sometimes my little brother will read it and text me about it but that’s pretty much the extent of it.

My sister-in-law reads it and will ask me questions on behalf of her coworkers who all follow my blog too which is pretty flattering.

My mom is pretty vocal. She’ll send me screenshots and say “Love this” or “I definitely don’t like this, Allyson.” When she uses my full name, I know that I’m in trouble.

My dad never says a word about it, however, today he vocalized his disappointment in my last post. I told him I was sorry but that it’s all in good fun and for entertainment value. He’s pretty used to me disappointing him at this point so I don’t think anything I do or say really surprises him anymore. Plus I’m in my 30’s so there isn’t much he can do about it.

He still grounded me for a month over my last post though. *shrugs*

Q: What is the best thing you’ve done this year?

A: I followed Wendy’s on Twitter.

Exhibit A:

Exhibit B:

Exhibit C:

Wendy’s is SAVAGE.

Q: You still haven’t wrote about any good dates that you’ve had.

A: I know, I know.

I’ve started to write about a couple of the good dates that I’ve been on but honestly, it’s really hard. There’s not a lot of funny stuff to say about them. The posts basically say “We did this. We had fun. There was no chemistry. We never spoke again. The end” Writing about good dates is not nearly as entertaining as writing about my bad dates where a grown man curses his mother out on the phone at the table in the middle of a nice restaurant while wearing stinky gym clothes and acting like it was completely normal.

Q: After a date, how should a man follow up with a woman if he is interested in her?

A: People have all of these rules like “wait a few days before contacting her” but I don’t believe in that. If you two drove to the date separately, I think it’s nice to send a text asking if she got home safe and saying you had a nice time and would like to see her again. If you pick her up and drop her off after the date, I think it’s nice to follow up the next day saying you had fun and would like to see her again. If she likes you, she will respond to your text messages within 24 hours, probably less. Believe me. No matter how busy she may be, she will make time to text you back and let you know that she had fun as well and would like to see you again too. If you’re interested, let her know. If she doesn’t respond, let it go and move right along. There’s no point in wasting your time on someone who doesn’t reciprocate your feelings.

But then again, I’m single and my life motto is “smother them until they hate you” so please don’t ever take any of my advice.

Xoxox,

Ally

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My night with Claire

A couple of weeks into my most recent Poodle detox, one of my friends who occasionally sifts through my blog had read about my recent heartbreak and offered to take me out for a drink. I wasn’t in the mood to get dressed and leave my my warm home which had basically become my cocoon at that point…. But I had recently discovered that I was bilingual. As it turns out, not only am I fluent in English, but I am also fluent in Two-aneese which is the ridiculous babble my (now) three year old daughter and two year old nephew speak to each other. I had come to realize I completely understood it and that was embarrassing. After realizing that my main social interactions were predominantly with two year olds and I didn’t have my kids that particular evening, I couldn’t think of any excuse as to why I shouldn’t go out and have a little adult interaction.

My friend and I wound up at a relatively small bar that I had never been to. This particular bar had a full parking lot and more importantly, it was close to my house. My friend and I walked in and started working the room and talking to the people who were there. My friend, who although I love him dearly, is a complete pig, so of course he latched on to the first single lady he could find at the bar. Her name was Claire. Claire was sitting at the end of the bar all alone and she was pretty drunk all by the early hour of 7:30pm. Claire was also at least 30 years older than my friend. After chatting for a while, Claire made a comment that she originally thought that my friend and I were a couple. As soon as my friend heard that, he immediately crawled up and stood on top of his bar stool and yelled to the entire bar that he and I were just friends, not a couple, and that I was single and on the prowl. Although I greatly appreciated his attempts to not cock block me that evening, I was still completely mortified by his public proclamation. No one paid much attention to my friend, but I did notice a group of four guys mosey on over from the other side of the bar to a table closer to Claire, my friend, and I after his humiliating announcement. My friend and I continued chatting with Claire. She was such a hot mess that I couldn’t help but laugh the entire time. It seemed like anything I said offended her. My friend was relentless in his attempts to pick Claire up. At first she was a little cold towards us because she thought that my friend was mocking her since he was good looking and so much younger than her, but once she realized he was actually kind of into her, she became bashful and it became clear that I was a nuisance to her. I’m all for a good threesome, but not with my pig-ass friend and a woman 30+ years my senior who yelled at me every single time I spoke. I excused myself from my friend and Claire’s conversation and I went over to dance by myself in the corner. They were playing great music that night at that bar. Maybe it had something to do with the fact that in Claire’s drunken stupor, she was screaming song requests at the bartender all.evening.long. I actually felt sorry for the bartender, but she was awesome and more than patient and accommodating with Claire’s drunk requests. I will go back to that bar specifically to see that sweet bartender.

As I danced alone in the corner without a care in the world, I noticed I was being summoned over to the table of four men that had migrated over to our side of the bar earlier when my friend had made his very loud Public Service Announcement on his chair about us not being a couple. I was nervous which isn’t an emotion I feel very often. However, all four of these men were very attractive and well dressed so I did what any sane, rational, intelligent, normal, regular woman would do and I turned my back to them and pretended I didn’t see them attempting to wave me over while I continued to dance alone in the corner. Besides, at this point in the evening I was approximtely four beers, three green tea shots, two fireball shots, and a partridge in a pear tree deep, so as you can imagine, my mind was a little bit foggy and I wasn’t sure I was capable of holding an adult conversation. However, it’s quite remarkable how quickly you can pull yourself together when a table of four attractive, well dressed men grab your hand, pull up a chair, and sit you down to talk. We started with small talk. You know… names, ages, location, occupation etc. Come to find out, not only were these men well dressed, attractive, and not Las Vegas locals, but they were all ridiculously educated with prestigious careers as well. Two of the men had graduated from Stanford, one man had graduated from Harvard, and the other man had graduated from Princeton. To top it off, they were all so funny and very kind to me. It’s not very often that I feel in over my head around men, but at that moment, I was feeling WAY in over my head. Even though I was already pretty drunk, I did what any sane, rational, intelligent, normal, regular woman would do and I ordered another beer since I was feeling so in over my head. *shrugs* In all fairness, they were all drunk too so I don’t think they really noticed.

It’s a good thing I’m a little bit funny sometimes because my wit and humor were the only two things I had going for me against this tough and highly educated crowd.

I had an amazing time chatting with the Aerospace Engineers, Pediatric Neurological Surgeon, and Trial Attorney from the Pacific Northwest. Yeah… that’s right. You read that correctly. Are you starting to see how this little blonde bobble head was feeling ridiculously out of her intelligence league? Even though I could not even begin to comprehend their level of intelligence, they were very down to earth and I had a blast getting to know them. I ended up spending the majority of the evening talking to the trial attorney. He was divorced, no children, not too far from my age, and really cute.

Since these gentlemen were staying on the strip, after a couple of hours they decided to head back to that side of town. They invited me to go with them, but I didn’t know them, I was drunk, and I was tired. Before he left, the attorney gave me a hug and asked for my phone number. I shrugged, gave it to him, and they disappeared. My friend (who was my DD that evening) told me he was going home with Claire so I rolled my eyes and called myself an Uber. It was way past my bedtime anyway.

I got home, grabbed a pack of fruit snacks and a bottle of water, and threw myself onto bed. As I ate my fruit snacks and scrolled through social media, I realized something. For the first time in 4 1/2 years I was drunk and I had absolutely no desire to drunk text Poodle. In fact, up until that moment, I hadn’t even thought about him all night. It had been easy to resist my drug of choice, Poodle, when I’m sober but the fact that even at my drunkest when my drunk alter ego Snooks had taken over, I forgot about him and had no desire to contact him. That was a feeling I had been waiting for for years. That revelation felt really good.

As I continued scrolling through social media, a text message popped up from the attorney asking if I was still at the bar and if I were still there, he would like to take a taxi back over to my side of town to meet me because his friends were going to a nightclub and that wasn’t really his scene.

I thought about it.

I thought about it long and hard.

I could have easily called an Uber and been back at that bar in ten minutes flat. I had a great time with him and I definitely could have made a lot of questionable decisions that evening… but I opted against it and I didn’t respond to his text message. I washed my face, threw on my pajamas, and I tucked myself into bed. Alone.

The next morning when I woke up, I was recalling the events from the previous evening. I couldn’t help but wonder if I made the right decision by ignoring the trial attorneys text message the night before. What if he was my soulmate and I blew him off for no reason except that I was lazy and fully invested in my fruit snacks? Was I self sabotaging AGAIN?!?!

However, I looked at my phone and saw a missed text from him at 2:00am and then another at 2:30am and then another at 3:00am and then another at 3:30am and then another at 4:00am and then another at 4:30am. Suddenly,  I felt ridiculously good about my decision to rendezvous with Mr. Sandman and a pack of fruit snacks as opposed to the trial attorney from the Pacific Northwest.

I still haven’t replied to any of his text messages to this day.

I’m sure you’re curious as to what happened between my friend and Claire. I still don’t know and honestly, I don’t want to. lol All I know is that our night with Claire was the best night I had in a while. I paid for that night with a week long hangover because I’m in my 30’s and I just can’t recover like I used to, but it was all totally worth it… even if it meant surrendering my possible soulmate over a pack of fruit snacks.

Xoxox,

Ally

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Ask Ally (Q and A Week 15)

Once again you guys asked me questions that I am probably not qualified to answer, but as always, I’m going to go ahead and answer them anyway.

Q: Do you know it is actually “cease and desist” not “cease to exist?”

A: Ummmm…. yeah. I am well aware. It was a play on words. However, if you want to keep sending me snotty emails, I’ll be happy to mail you a cease and desist letter. 🙂

NEXT!

Q: If you’re not interested in a man, how do you decline their offer to take you out?

A: I tell them I’m celibate. That usually makes them run for the hills and solves the problem.

If by chance they still want to take me out even after I tell them that, I usually give them a chance because they are obviously extremely interested in whatever I have to offer.

Kidding.

Kind of. 😉

But seriously, if I’m not interested in a man, I simply tell him. Politely, of course. Just as I expect men to be honest with me (although it is very painful at times) I appreciate the fact that they don’t waste my time. However, I will say that at this point in my life, unless you’re a complete douche bag or asshole, I will usually at least give you the courtesy of a first date because we never know who you’re going to hit it off with. Most of my long term relationships started with people that I had no idea had the potential to turn into something more than one night together. To be honest, now that I am older and a little wiser, my priorities are different. I’m certainly willing to embrace people and accept their flaws just as I am hoping they will embrace and accept my flaws. I have an idea of what I’m searching for in a man, but I’m definitely not sure what my happily ever after looks like, so I’m keeping an open mind.

Q: Do you follow any other blogs? If so? What ones are your favorite?

A: I follow and read a TON of blogs. My current two favorite are:

Swipinginreno.wordpress.com

It’s by an adorable single mother in Reno who is facing the same difficulties that I am facing in the dating world… except up in Reno instead of Las Vegas. She found my blog and it inspired her to write about her struggles so I am able to relate to so many of the issues and feelings that she writes about. Plus, she’s SO much less wordy than I am which makes them quick and easy reads unlike my entries that take four score and seven years to read and decipher because sometimes I just can’t.stop.typing. Sorry guys.

I also love a blog called:

InsomniaGirl.net

It’s ridiculous, but if you have any sense of humor at all, you’ll get a chuckle out of it just like I do.

Q: How did Poodle get the name Poodle?

A: I feel like I need to put it on record that the name Poodle was a complete joke. 4 1/2 years ago when Poodle and I first started dating, we had the worlds most brief conversation about nicknames. I grabbed the name Poodle out of nowhere for absolutely no reason at all and jokingly told him that I was going to call him that as a pet name.

For the record, I never called him Poodle during our relationship. Not even once.

Fast forward to 3 1/2 years later when I was writing my first blog post. You guys know… my “Sid” entry. I needed to reference Poodle but I didn’t know what to call him since I only called him by his name, Boo, or Babe. I had a flashback to the conversation 3 1/2 years previously where I jokingly nicknamed him Poodle so decided to call him that. Just so it is clear, when I originally wrote my first blog post, I truly didn’t think that more than 5 people would ever read that one blog entry, and I certainly didn’t think I would be writing anymore posts. However, here I am, almost a year later still writing, and my readers have multiplied by the thousands so I am in waaaayyy too deep to change Poodle’s name now. So like it or not, he’s stuck with it. Sorry Poodle.

I’m just thankful I never got that Poodle tattoo that I contemplated. 😉

Q: What is your worst habit?

A: Do you want them in alphabetical order or order of importance?

Kidding.

Kinda. 😉

Oh wait. I know what my worst habit is.

I sleep eat.

Last week when I was in New York with my mom, we woke up one morning. I stretched and told my mom “Good morning.” She looked at me and snarled. I was so confused. What in the world did I do? When we went to bed, we were on good terms. I asked my mom how she slept and she replied “I was sleeping well until someone was crunching through their snacks and crumpling paper so rudely at 3:30am. It was hard to fall back asleep after that.” I looked over at my nightstand and saw a package of empty fruit snacks and burst into laughter.

I forgot to tell my mom that I have this odd little habit of sleep eating.

For the last several years I randomly have mornings where I wake up to empty string cheese wrappers, fruit snacks, or empty bowls of cereal next to my nightstand with absolutely no recollection of how they got there. There’s never any rhyme or reason as to why I sleep eat on any given night. Sometimes I will do it four nights in a row and then I won’t do it for six months. It does make it incredibly hard to diet when Asleep Ally has completely different diet motives than Awake Ally though.

I can’t stop laughing because I imagine that the scenario between my mom and I was similar to how a woman reacts to her boyfriend when she wakes up after having a dream where he cheated on her. He has no idea why she’s mad, but she’s mad over the made up scenario. It was similar to how I had no idea why my mom was so irritated with me for sleep eating and being obnoxious about it because I had absolutely no recollection of it.

Q: How was New York? 

A: New York was amazing. It truly was the trip of a lifetime that I was fortunate enough to get to experience it all with my mom. We did everything. We saw everything. We bought everything. We ate everything. I don’t know if I will ever be able to have a trip like that with my mother again. Those memories that we made will be imprinted on my heart forever and I feel so fortunate to have been able to experience that with her. It truly was the trip of a lifetime and not because of what we saw, bought, or ate, but because I was able to experience that all with her. I really am beyond lucky to have those memories with my mom. So many people do not get to experience these types of things with their parents, so it is something I will treasure forever. Not to mention, my mom is a kick ass wing man. 😉

I don’t know if I could ever live in NYC full time, but going and experiencing NYC at Christmas is something that everyone should put on their bucket list. To be able to experience NYC at Christmas at least once in your lifetime is something someone should definitely aspire to do. It is absolutely magical and there is no other way that I can describe it. I will treasure this trip for as long as I live.

Xoxox,

Ally

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Modern Romance: Chapter Five

Originally I was going to write a part two to my chapter four post about the book Modern Romance by Aziz Ansari, but everything I wanted to write about the second half of the chapter were all points that I felt that I touched on in my part one post and I didn’t see a need to rehash them. So I’m just going to move on to chapter five. This one is a doozy, so buckle up.

This chapter talks about dating in other countries. Aziz and some of his super smart socialist friends took a trip to Tokyo, Japan as well as Buenos Aires, Argentina to look into the dating culture in these cities. Obviously he chose somewhere in Japan so that he could gorge himself on ramen and sushi which is exactly why I would choose Tokyo as well.

Kidding.

Kind of.

Aziz chose Tokyo because there is a huge crisis going on over there right now. Due to the younger generation’s lack of interest in sex, the government is ridiculously worried about Japan’s declining population. At the time this book was published, Japan was 222 out of 224 countries for birthrate. Yikes. I can see why the government would be a little bit concerned, but I’ll get to that in a minute. Right now I want to focus on the first point I made.

The younger generation in Tokyo has a complete lack on interest in sex. In fact, in a 2013 study that was done, 45% of women and 25% of men in Japan (ages 16-25) said they “despise sex.”

Despise sex?

I mean, I understand not being in the mood all of the time (Just kidding. I don’t understand that either.) but to say that you despise sex?

Me: …

Me: …

Me: …

I know exactly what you guys are thinking and I am here to tell you that I cannot comprehend that either. Not even a little bit.

Not only are the younger generations not interested in sex, they’re not all that interested in marriage either. In 1987, 49% of men were single and 39% of women were single. Those statistics have sky rocketed to 61% of men are still single and 49% of women are still single. One third of men and women 30 and under have never even dated anyone. Not that there is anything wrong with choosing not to date, but can you imagine being 30 years old and still never having your first date? That is such a foreign concept to our culture. I mean, I’m sure my parents would love it if I would have minded my business until I was 30, but I was chomping at the bit before I was even 16 years old to date. Sorry for all he numbers and statistics, but my jaw literally fell to the floor when I read and researched these.

The term used in Japan for men that are not only uninterested in sex, but dating all together is a Herbivore Man. You guys… 60% of men in their 20’s and 30’s in Tokyo describe themselves as Herbivore Men.

60%!!!

These poor women. As if it isn’t difficult enough to date, all of the single men out there are then cut into an even smaller statistic simply because they just don’t feel like dating or touching a woman.  What this statistic means is that if they lined up 10 single men for you to choose from, you would really only have four men to choose from. Ten men is not a lot of men, but I’m sure you could find some nice men to at least attempt a first date with. BUT WAIT! SIX out of those TEN men are too lazy or uninterested in women to want to date or touch you, so they’re going to go ahead and remove those six men. That leaves you with four men to choose from. That’s right. Four men. If we’re playing with these kinds of statistics, I might as well have married one of the three guys who grew up in a five mile radius of my house. At least they were all hot and might have wanted to have sex with me. *shrugs* As a single woman trying to navigate through the dating world in hopes to someday find my own happily ever after, all I can say is that this is complete bullshit if you ask me.

In Japan, if a guy approaches a woman at a club, he is called a “charai” which means he is a sleazy, playboy type. In America, I think it is safe to say our “charai’s” are known as f**kboys. However, I hate that term so I’m bringing the word Charai to America because I think it sounds so much more eloquent, don’t you? Okay, let’s rewind for a second. So a guy approaching a girl in a club to tell her she is beautiful and he would like to get to know her would be considered sleazy in their culture? Can you imagine the horror the Japanese culture would feel if they knew the ridiculous amount of unsolicited dick pictures we as single women receive before even meeting a man in person? They’d probably be almost as surprised as I was to learn that not only is it considered sleazy for a man to approach a woman in Japan, but even if they did approach a woman and she responds in a positive manner, they would think she’s a a floozy. Can you imagine?

Man: You look lovely tonight.

Woman: **He talked to me in a bar. He must be a charai, but he’s cute so I’m going to accept the compliment**

Woman: Thank you.

Man: **She responded. She’s a floozy. Abort mission immediately**

No wonder the dating culture is going down the drain over in Japan.

Also, in the Japanese culture, they think that putting a selfie as their profile photo on a dating website is narcissistic. They prefer to put pictures of their cats or rice cookers instead (Not kidding). At first, I didn’t understand this, but the more I thought about it, the more I decided I could totally hop on board with this one. I’d rather look at pictures of a bunch of cute dogs than random men. This thought process would also allow me to put a picture I took of my favorite queso dip as my dating profile picture. To be honest, I’ve kind of been waiting a long time to find the perfect use for that particular picture. Way to go on this one, Japan. I’m totally hopping on this bandwagon.

The government is so concerned about this lack of marriage and sex epidemic, that they have actually funded a $25 million dollar budget to aid programs that help the younger generations meet each other. They hold mixers and pay restaurants $25-$35 per seat to let younger people hang out there. I would kill to have this here in America. Not only do you get to go mingle with your friends, but you could potentially meet some hotties along the way? Come on! This is fantastic.

I’m sure you’re wondering how certain physical as well as emotional needs are met in Japan since there is such a lack in the sexual as well as dating culture there and I’m going to go ahead and tell you about a few solutions they have come up with. First of all, they have Cuddle Cafes. In these cafes you literally pay someone to cuddle with you with no sexual contact for as little or as long as you want. I personally think this is a brilliant idea. Except instead of cuddling with men, let’s do it with puppies. Any investors want to back this idea in America? Anyone? Well, I’m here if anyone wants to collaborate with me on this one. Japan also has what they call Host and Hostess clubs. The men and women who work in these clubs will sit with you and talk to you for as long as you would like. There is absolutely no sexual contact in these clubs either. It is strictly a place that men and woman can get the emotional attention they feel that they are lacking in their life. In these clubs they are catered to by having their cigarettes lit, attentive conversation, as well as singing karaoke with their host. It isn’t uncommon for a group of married men to hit up the Hostess Clubs on their way home from work. You know, kind of like it’s no big deal for us Las Vegans to swing by the strip club for a quick lap dance before picking up our kids from school.

Kidding.

Kind of. 😉

Since prostitution is illegal in Japan, the Japanese have come up with a much more enticing solution for physical touch at a place called Soapland. The concept behind Soapland is that they take a waterproof mattress, strip their clothes off, pour soapy water all over the man, wash him, and then slide all over each other’s naked bodies… but again, with no sexual contact. I’m all for this idea. It sounds like a blast. In fact, when I’m in a relationship, this is pretty much what a typical Tuesday night looks like for us at my house.

Not kidding. 😉

We are so accustom to the dating culture in America that we forget to think about how different it is in other countries. While Japan is widely known for lacking intimacy, Buenos Aires is at the complete opposite end of the spectrum and is known for oozing sexuality.

I want to start off by saying that I never, ever want to hear an American man say that American women play games because no one plays games like Argentinean woman do. I was fascinated to learn that in Buenos Aires, when a woman says “no” it is simply a “prelude to yes.” In America, no means no. End of story. If you don’t accept no for an answer in America, you might end up with a few criminal charges. In Buenos Aires, if a woman is not interested in a man, she simply ignores him completely. If she is into him, she will say no several times and play hard to get and then eventually give in and say yes. The women said that if they say yes to a man too quickly, they fear they will appear “easy.” The men will literally beg for women and tell them they love them the first night just to get them to say yes to a date… or whatever else they’re searching for. In fact, there’s a phrase they use down there that translates to “Lie to me because I like it.” I thought the Japanese dating culture was confusing, but I was even more confused with the dating culture in Buenos Aires.

In Buenos Aires, they compare dating to a BBQ. You have to constantly have your “main meat” on the grill, but then you always have other meats grilling at the same time for backup just in case anything goes wrong with their main meat.

Wait. What?

I mean, I guess as long as I’m the main meat, I’m alright with this concept. I’m just not trying to be the backup, side meat. You feel me on that one?

I guess this concept isn’t completely foreign in America because it isn’t unusual for men or women to have people they keep around. What is different is the fact that that in Buenos Aires, they sleep with all of their side meats and it is accepted by everyone because everyone is doing it. The men that women casually sleep with while they are in relationships are called “chongos.” In Buenos Aires, they even have hotels called “telos” to help embrace their sexual culture where people can rent rooms by the hour. Even if someone is in a relationship and meets someone at the bar that they could potentially be interested in, they will give them their number without a second thought because they always need to keep their options open.

I can actually feel the Expedia search for Buenos Aires travel accommodations rising right now. Not only do they have an extremely open sexual culture, but the fact that Argentinean people are known to be some of the most beautiful people in the world doesn’t hurt either.

Bottom line, don’t catch feelings in Japan because the men might not want anything to do with you emotionally or physically and don’t catch feelings in Buenos Aires because they’re just going to crush your soul by sleeping with other people behind your back in a hotel room that rents by the hour.

xoxox,
Ally

PS If you click the “Follow” button on my home page, it will prompt you for your email address. By submitting it, you will receive an email each time I post a blog entry. Your email address will never be sold to a third party and the only emails you will ever receive from me are updates each time I post a blog entry. 😉

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My Worst Enemy

I just spent the past six days in New York City. It was not my first time visiting New York, but it was my first time visiting New York in about 20 years. It’s no secret that I have a terrible memory so I could barely remember a single detail about a city that I visited 20 years ago. I had no idea what to expect. All I knew was that I was going to have a lot of fun… and I did. I wasn’t expecting any stories to write about or to be inspired, but this trip produced oodles (That’s right. I just used the word oodles) of inspiration for me. One topic that I’ve dying to write about since the moment I stepped of the airplane is the men in New York City… particularly, Manhattan.

*gulps*

*starts sweating*

*fans herself vigorously*

I have never been surrounded by so many handsome, well dressed, kind, and direct men in my entire life. I’m sweating just thinking about it. If I ever hit the lottery, my first purchase would be an apartment in Manhattan.

The men in Manhattan are so handsome, well groomed, and well dressed. It truly didn’t matter if it was a Tuesday afternoon or a Sunday morning, 95% of the men were dressed to the nine’s. Of course because of the area that we were in, many of them were fancy shmancy business men so they were dressed in suits, but even the men working in the retail stores that we shopped at were dressed amazing. Since these men knew how sharp they looked, they oozed a confidence that I have never seen before. It was ridiculously attractive. Men in New York will also approach a woman without batting an eyelash. I can’t even tell you how many times I sat down in a lounge or at a posh bar in Manhattan and was approached within minutes by these men. Not all of them were hitting on me, but lucky for me, some of them were. *wink* Some of them would just be interested where this bright ass blonde bobble head came from and they would make casual conversation with me. I met a lot of incredible people on this particular trip.

A couple days into my trip, I had a few hours free during the afternoon. I was trying to write in my room, but it was far too quiet for me to think. I’ve become accustomed to writing with kids screaming in the background so I packed up my laptop and went down to the lobby hoping that a little background noise would be just what I needed to overcome my writers block. I had so many things I wanted to write about, but I had no idea where to start. This ridiculously lavish trip gave this poor little blogger a small taste of what it must feel like to be a Kardashian. That morning they closed down Bergdorf Goodman for us and we had a gorgeous brunch with live carolers as well as a private fashion show hosted by the Director of Fashion.

Okay. Hold on.

All I have to say is that I am way tackier than I thought because I only understood maybe one item of clothing that I saw strut down the runway that day. Call me crazy, but showing up in head to toe sequins (not kidding) or leopard pajamas with ostrich feather lining (also, not kidding) wouldn’t go over well at any of the places that I frequent here in Vegas. I guess this explains why I’m a silly little blogger and not the next Vera Wang.

After the fashion show, we spent the next several hours walking the streets of New York and doing a little shopping. By late afternoon when I had a little free time to write, I looked like hell. I was in a sweatshirt, jeans, and converse with messy wind blown hair, but I wasn’t quite ready to freshen up for dinner and I was determined to get some writing done for you guys. The lobby had an intimate setup with love seats facing each other surrounded by fireplaces. I sat down and almost instantly the words started coming to me. I was right. A little background noise was just what I needed to feel “in my zone.” I was in my own little world typing away so quickly that I didn’t notice an attractive, well dressed man waving at me. Finally I heard him clear his throat and say “Excuse me ma’am. Is anyone sitting here?” I shook my head no and looked back down at my laptop to start writing again because I didn’t want to lose my train of thought. Before I could finish that sentence I heard him say “You’re not going to charge me, are you?”

Okay. Hold on.

Now, I’m from Las Vegas, so when a man says “You’re not going to charge me, are you?” my first thought was “Oh my gosh. He thinks I’m a hooker? Dressed like this? Really?” I looked up to answer him and he had a huge smile on his face. I was relieved to know that he was kidding and that I wasn’t being mistaken for a hooker. I mean, I did grow up in Vegas so it certainly wouldn’t be the first time. *rolls eyes*

I smiled and quickly replied “For you, it’s on the house.” and then I looked back down at my computer. Before I could type another word, he reached his hand in front of my computer to shake my hand and introduced himself. I shook his hand and introduced myself as well. Then, once again, I looked down at my computer to start writing. He went and sat down across from me, ordered a tea, and then said “So Ally, where are you from and what are you doing over there?” At that point, I looked up at his handsome face, smiled, and I closed my laptop. It was very clear that this gentleman was not going to let me write and why would I want to? He was attractive and for some crazy reason he was obviously interested in whatever this hot mess was up to. I will admit that for 2.5 seconds, I was a little annoyed because I had actually been on a roll writing for the last hour or so, but he was so handsome and persistant and I finally thought to myself “What are you doing you psycho? Talk to him.” We talked for a while. It turns out he was from Pennsylvania, but lived in Manhattan and he was meeting a client of his who was staying at the same hotel that I was. We had a good little conversation. His client eventually showed up. They started their meeting and I went back to writing. Their meeting eventually ended and his client left and then his business partner showed up. He interrupted me again to introduce me to his business partner and then they continued talking amongst themselves. I had to use the restroom so I stood up, and so did the two men sitting across from me. I assumed they were leaving so I was surprised when I was walking back from the restroom and they were still sitting there. As soon as I entered the lobby, the two men stood up again. I sat down, and then they sat back down. I thought it was weird that they kept standing up. I typed a little bit more, then I got up to go grab some water from the bar and the men stood up again. Then as I walked over to the bar, they sat down. I was so confused. Was I in the middle of a game of musical chairs where no one actually moves chairs that I wasn’t aware of? When I came back with my water, they stood up again. I couldn’t let it go any longer. I looked at them and asked, “Are you guys leaving?” They both laughed and said “No. We always stand when a woman enters or leaves a room. It’s out of respect.”

My mind was blown.

I froze. I didn’t know how to respond to their kind gesture, so I just did what any sane, rational, intelligent, normal, regular girl would do, and I curtsied. I’m an idiot. I know. It made them laugh though. *shrugs*

Once I found out they were standing up on my behalf, I actually felt bad for getting up for the water. I guess I could have just waited for the cocktail server to come over, but I was super parched.

I told them that those type of manners were so unheard of these days, but I appreciated the gesture very much. As we talked, another couple sat down next to us and they overheard me mention that I was from Las Vegas. They chimed in because they used to live in Las Vegas. They live in Florida now, but they really want to move back to Las Vegas. We ended up knowing some of the same people from Las Vegas and our chatter kind of took over the conversation and the two business men started their own conversation. I was having a great time until I looked down at the time and realized I still looked like a train wreck and the car was picking us up for dinner in fifteen minutes. I quickly collected my things so that I could run upstairs and get ready. The two men once again and stood up when I did. I couldn’t help but laugh at their manners. He asked if I had a business card. I said “no” and then turned around and quickly ran upstairs. As I  threw myself together for dinner, I realized that was his way of showing interest in me. He was so cute and obviously knew how to treat and speak to a woman and I was such a hot mess that it didn’t even cross my mind that he could be interested in me in a romantic way. I was smacking myself for not saying “I don’t have a business card, but I do have a phone number.” When I went downstairs to catch the car for dinner, I did a quick sweep of the lobby to try to redeem myself with the charming business man, but the two men were gone. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that I was so busy in my own little bubble that I didn’t even realize the attractive man across from me was hitting on me.

I started to think back to the past couple of years that I’ve been floating around the dating scene. Of course I’ve had a slew of bad dates, but I’ve also had a few good ones too. I thought about how many nice men I have met (and some that I never even had the chance to meet because I wrote them off too quickly for irrelevant reasons) that I have let slip right through my fingers because I was so caught up in whatever else was going on in my life. I thought about this topic a lot on my trip, actually.

For the rest of the trip, I tucked my laptop away. If a thought or something I wanted to write about came to mind, I made a quick note in my phone, but other than that I decided I need to be more present. Not just to all of the men in New York, but in Las Vegas as well. I’ve been so oblivious to so many things because I’ve been so busy being caught up in my own little world. A lot of the time, I was probably self sabotaging because deep down, I wasn’t quite ready to let someone new in because I was so terrified of having my heart broken. I had built up a wall so high around my heart that was impossible for anyone to get past. I was the only person who could knock that wall down and open my heart and mind to the idea of me having a real shot at love and happiness. What have I been so scared of? Having my heart broken? Why? I’ve had my heart broken before and I’m still here living, breathing, and doing just fine. After realizing how oblivious I have been, I made the executive decision from that day forward, I am going to be emotionally available.

I’m sure I will never see the attractive man in the lobby that stood every time I entered and exited the room, and I’m sure that he will probably never think about our interaction again. However his persistence and chivalry that day that I so carelessly ignored helped me realize that my own worst enemy has only been myself.

xoxox,
Ally

PS If you click the “Follow” button on my home page, it will prompt you for your email address. By submitting it, you will receive an email each time I post a blog entry. Your email address will never be sold to a third party and the only emails you will ever receive from me are updates each time I post a blog entry. 😉

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Cease to Exist

After I wrote my post, Modern Romance: Chapter Four (Part 1) I had several people write me asking if I was just “picky” and if I am a “commitment phobe.” They were questioning if it is possible that I am always going to be looking for the “next best thing” because of a few things I wrote in that post. I explained in my last Q and A post that I don’t think I am picky nor a commitment phobe, but reading back over my post, I can definitely see how you guys could possibly think so. However, when I wrote in that post how the internet might have jaded us in the dating department because we have so many options at our fingertips that we might always be looking for the next best thing, I wasn’t talking about myself. It was food for thought for you guys to think about because it was something that had been on my mind for a while.

In my marriage, I stayed for a couple more years than I probably should have. I wasn’t happy and neither was he, but we had a life and a child together and I also had a stepson whom I loved and I felt a certain allegiance to him because his mother had passed away. I was determined to stay in my marriage regardless if I were happy or not in an attempt to make things work between my now ex-husband and I. Should I have left sooner than I did so that we could have both moved on with our lives? Maybe. However, I couldn’t walk away from my marriage without feeling that I had done everything that I could do to salvage our marriage… especially knowing how great our relationship was for the first couple of years that we were together. I begged my husband to go to couples counseling with me. He declined. I begged for my husband to attempt to make time for me like he used to. He declined. I begged for my husband to remember my birthday and our anniversary. That was too much work for him. He was beyond checked out, but I was hoping that if I stayed, he would eventually come around. He didn’t… well, not until long after I moved out and divorced him. Then, of course, he missed me.

In fact, the situation with Poodle was similar. Did Poodle and I exhaust our chances? Ummmm… yeah. In fact, every single time that I thought we had exhausted our chances, we found our way back into each others lives. Or as Poodle liked to remind me, we found our way back into each others beds.

The last time that things were cut off between Poodle and I, you would think that the person I loved sitting in front of me for what felt like the billionth time telling me that he no longer wished to speak to me would be enough for me to buzz off. Nope. Not this girl. Obviously, I am beyond persistent. After Poodle told me he no longer wanted to see me, I then proceeded to invite Poodle over the next day. Apparently, I loved how the first day of this heartbreaking breakup went so much that I wanted an encore. BUT WAIT! That wasn’t enough. That night, after I had sat through two grueling days of Poodle telling me to go away, my son had a baseball lesson in Poodle’s neck of the woods so I obviously did what any sane, rational, intelligent, normal, regular woman would do and I stopped by his house so that I could hear one last time how irrelevant I was in his life. BUT WAIT! That wasn’t enough either! After he sat in front of me not one, not two, but three times and told me he was finished with me, I then spent the next four days writing a 10 page handwritten letter professing my undying love for Poodle as well as all of the things that I wanted to do in order for he and I to work on any of our past issues.

To most people, I might sound like an absolute lunatic… and who knows? Maybe I am. However, I truly knew in my heart and in my mind that this had to be the absolute last time Poodle and I could do this with one another. I knew that I could never, ever allow myself feel this type of heartbreak compliments of him ever again. I knew that I had to go to any length to do whatever I felt that I needed to do in an attempt make things right between Poodle and I just in case there was a chance that we could salvage our relationship. I had to express my feelings to him even if Poodle didn’t feel the same. If I were really going to walk away from Poodle the very last time for real, I knew that I couldn’t leave anything left unsaid. I wanted him to know that I loved him unconditionally. I wanted him to know that regaurdless of our hardships, I saw a future with him. I wanted him to know that I saw forever with him and I wanted to do whatever it would take to make things right and have that happen. I didn’t care how crazy I sounded or looked. I mean, I’m sure even at some point Poodle thought “This bitch is relentless.” I didn’t care. I am who I am and I would not feel right walking away for what I knew had to be the absolute, very last time without me laying it all out there on the table. Pain must be a fetish of mine because I had to let Poodle reject me four separate times over a span of a few days for me to finally get the message. I’m starting to think that maybe Poodle wasn’t my addiction, but maybe the pain that Poodle was able to inflict on me was actually my addiction.

Kidding.

Kind of. 😉

Could the slate have ever been wiped clean between Poodle and I? Of course not. It would be ridiculously immature to think that anything negative that happened between Poodle and I over the span of 4 1/2 years would magically disappear. That can never happen. However, I loved him. I loved him so much. I overlooked his flaws, and at times, he overlooked mine too. To me, the magic that I felt when Poodle and I were together was worth fighting for regardless of our hardships, my flaws, and his flaws. So that’s exactly why I did what I did in both my marriage and my relationship with Poodle. I needed to exhaust all of my efforts no matter how crazy it sounds to outside people looking in. If I had to walk away, I wanted to walk away knowing I did whatever I could possibly do to salvage my marriage as well as whatever Poodle and I had. Did either relationship work out? Nah. Is that okay? Absolutely. At the end of the day, if the other person doesn’t want to put in the effort to make your relationship work or they don’t reciprocate your feelings,  there’s nothing you can do. I’m sorry. I know that hurts to hear because I have had to live that truth a million times over, but it’s true.

Did you hear me?

If the other person doesn’t want to put in the effort and/or doesn’t feel the same about you as you do them, there’s nothing you can do. End. Of. Story.

I also want to address really quickly the fact that whatever someone’s reasons are for not wanting to work things out with you are not any of your business. I promise you that nothing they could possibly tell you would make you feel any better. Did they meet someone else? Are you not attractive enough? Do you want the list of things you do that turn them off? Maybe they’re self sabotaging. Maybe they’re waiting for something better to come along. Maybe they hate the way you drink everything with a straw. Maybe they hate the fact that you belt musicals at the top of your lungs on road trips. Who knows and honestly, who cares? It literally doesn’t matter what on the face of the earth is going on in their head or why they no longer want to be with you. All I can tell you is that whoever or whatever they chose was worth losing you over. End. Of. Story. Something or someone else was worth walking away from you. What more could you possibly need to know? Put that shit to bed for good and move on. Never forget that one man’s trash is another man’s treasure.

I get asked a lot if I speak to all of my exes. The answer is no. I do not speak to all of my exes. However, I’m happy and at peace with all of them and I hope they feel the same about me. There is no point in me being angry, hurt, or upset at how other people made me feel because at the end of the day, I welcomed them into my life and I allowed them to make me feel that way. We control our own emotions. If you don’t want someone to be relevant in your life, make them irrelevant. If you don’t want someone to hurt you any longer, don’t invite them into your world. Trust me. I know you’re sitting there thinking “Easier said than done.” I’ve been there a billion times before but I promise you that once you make the conscious decision to no longer entertain any of that, it’s actually really easy. Being an adult sucks enough. We have so many grueling things everyday such as jobs, kids, errands, bills, cooking, and housework. Don’t waste your time holding onto anger, contention, or hard feelings for people who have made it crystal clear how they feel about you. Let it go, let them move on, and you go ahead and move on too, boo. If they didn’t want you… don’t you worry your pretty little head. Someone else will.

You just simply need to cease to exist.

xoxox,
Ally

PS If you click the “Follow” button on my home page, it will prompt you for your email address. By submitting it, you will receive an email each time I post a blog entry. Your email address will never be sold to a third party and the only emails you will ever receive from me are updates each time I post a blog entry. 😉

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Bad Boys

Leather jacket.
White t-shirt.
Pompadour haircut.
Well fit jeans.
Converse.

You know the type. The kind of guy that would sneak out of 6th period in high school to smoke a Marlboro Red underneath the bleachers.

I’ve had a weakness for bad boys since high school. In high school, I dated a really nice guy. He was kind, funny, adored me, and my parents absolutely loved him. All he wanted to do was love me and kiss the ground I walked on from the day I met him. So obviously I did what any sane, rational, intelligent, normal, regular girl would do and I abandoned him for the bad boy in school. That’s right. I traded in the guy who adored me for the naughty musician.

Storytime!

I’ve never wrote about my very first heartbreak.

I was raised in a religion where I was not allowed to date until I was sixteen years old. Obviously I broke those rules and dated the nice guy before I was sixteen, but my parents really liked him because he was such a nice and genuine person, so they semi-allowed it. They let him take me to prom even though I was technically not old enough to date yet. Not too long after his prom that he took me to, I was introduced by a mutual friend to a guy named Ricky, one of our school’s infamous bad boys. He was rugged, a musician in a local band, and NOTHING that my parents wanted me to date… so obviously, I did any sane, rational, intelligent, normal, regular girl would do and I dated him. I know I’m super sassy now, but I didn’t always used to be this aggressive. I actually used to be fairly reserved and quite. I was a theater nerd in high school which by the way, I am very proud of. I had the most amazing time in high school and I met so many incredible people and I am still friends with many of them today thanks to the internet and social media. However, I was never “popular” in high school. The fact that a popular bad boy would show interest in this quiet, reserved, short haired, blonde bobble head, was very flattering and definitely something that I wasn’t used to. Ricky was so unapologetically himself that I couldn’t help but be enamered by him. He said all of the right things to me, he acted like he adored me, and he was so different from anything I knew. The fact that he spoke Spanish fluently didn’t hurt either. 😉

I was hooked almost immediately.

We dated for several years. We went to all the school dances together. I adored (actually, I still adore) his mother who was incredible. She nicknamed me “Ojo” which means “eyes” in Spanish because she always said I had beautiful eyes. He was there for me as I constantly rebelled against my family who were never fans of him… but I was a fan of him and at that point in my life, he was all I needed to be happy. Things were never perfect, but I believed in us and I fought for us for years. I didn’t care what anyone said. I didn’t care what anyone thought. I loved him and that was the first time I had ever truly loved someone so it didn’t matter what I had to do in order for us to be together. I was going to be with him and fight for us as long as necessary…

…until one day when a rumor got back to me that one of my fellow theater friends had hooked up with Ricky. At first, I didn’t believe it. It couldn’t be true… right? He would never do that to me… right? I tried to push the rumor to the back of my mind, but I couldn’t seem to dismiss it because a small part of me knew that it could possibly be true. Even at the ripe age of  17 years old, my investigation skills were good enough to make any FBI agent envious. After a serious investigation, dozens of witnesses, and a shit ton of proof that couldn’t be denied, my theater friend ended up telling me the truth and admitting that she and Ricky did hook up. Shortly after her guilty plea, I asked Ricky if he had hooked up with my theater friend. Of course he denied it… but it was too late. I already knew the truth. For the first time in a few years, I stood my ground with Ricky and I didn’t back down. I told him I knew the truth and I wanted him to come clean with me. I deserved that. Eventually, he told me the truth.

Within moments, my tiny, naive, 17 year old world was turned upside down. The truth that I already knew had been confirmed by both parties.  That was the first real, raw, painful moment that I ever remember having. I think what made this heartbreak so painful was that 1) I was so naive that I never saw it coming and 2) I was so great to him in our relationship that I couldn’t comprehend how this could happen. I was so young and naive that I didn’t even know how to be bad. My love for him was so pure. In relationships since then, of course I have made mistakes and done things I wish I hadn’t done… but back then, at 17 years old, I didn’t know how to be bad, crazy, or cause any  trouble. The fact that I had been nothing but 100% myself with Ricky and that still wasn’t enough for him to stay faithful was a hard pill for me to swallow. I remember being so physically sick after I learned the truth that I threw up. It’s crazy how the mind and emotions work. Even well over a decade later, I am tearing up writing about this because I can still feel the pain that I felt at that moment, on that day. I even remember exactly where I was and what I was wearing when Ricky told me the truth.

I didn’t know what to do. How do you cope with your first heartbreak when you are so young and vulnerable and you have absolutely no life experience to go off of? The person that I had loved and adored for years had cheated on me with someone that I knew very well. I couldn’t go to my parents because they never liked him from the start and I wasn’t in the mood to hear “I told you so” and all of my friends were all mutual friends with either Ricky or the girl he had cheated on me with so how much sympathy were they really willing to give me? I was lost. So, I cut off all communication with everyone because that was the only way I could manage to deal with things.

Okay. Hold on.

Does any of this sound familiar from any of my previous blog posts? As I am writing this entry, I am realizing that my patterns in relationships as well as the way I deal with heartbreak is still the same, even well over a decade later. What a sad, but useful revelation.

Anyway…

After seeing and feeling my complete and utter devastation, Ricky felt bad. He really did. Even though he had cheated on me, he was ridiculously persistent in attempting to apologize to me in a desperate attempt to make things right. I ignored him. I didn’t know what to do or say. I was so young and dumb. I loved him so much and had given him so many years of my life… how could he do that to me? Let alone with someone that we both knew. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that she could not be the only person that he cheated on me with over all of those years that we spent dating each other. There was so much bad behavior that I had continuously overlooked and ignored over the years because at the end of the day… love is blind. I realized that I had to stop being naive. Looking back, the behavior that Poodle engulfed over our last two rendezvous together were very, very similar to how Ricky acted… however Poodle and I weren’t ever technically together, so if he were entertaining someone else it wasn’t cheating… right? I know that appearance wise I look unintelligent, but rest assured, I am very far from from that. What a fool I have been for so many years in so many different ways.

I finally responded to Ricky and told him I needed to know if he had cheated on me before with anyone else over the years that we had been together. I also told him that I wanted to know if I knew any of the other girls. I needed the truth. He responded and told me that the only way he would tell me the truth was if I agreed to see him since I had been avoiding him.

The last thing my naive and innocent heart wanted to do was look into the eyes of the first person in my life that I actually loved and face the fact that they deceived me and broke my heart, but for my piece of mind, I needed answers so I agreed to see him. We set up a time to meet at his house the next evening.

I remember parking my car in front of his house and taking several deep breaths preparing myself for the one or two other names that I was going to learn he had cheated on me with besides my theater friend. I knocked on his door, he opened it, and he handed me piece of paper. I opened up the piece of paper and my heart sank.

He had handed me a list.

Thats right. A list.

It was a Iist of the first names of every single girl that he had cheated on me with over the several years that we spent together. There were 24 names on that list. I’ll never forget that. I thought I was prepared for what I was going to experience that evening, but I was nowhere near prepared for that.

The worst part was that after Ricky handed me the list, he looked at me, said “I’m so sorry” and then closed the door. No hug. There was no empathy for the heartache that he had just thrown at me. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t even know how to begin to process the information that was just tossed to me. I stood in his doorway for a minute praying for him to open the door and tell me he was joking, but that never happened. It was true. I ran to my car, hopped in, and drove one street over so that I could cry in peace. I wasn’t capable of driving home at that point. I cried in front of a strangers house for at least two hours. The heartbreak that I felt that night was something so deep and so incredibly painful that it has taken me over a decade to sit down, type it out, and relive it.

I was angry with Ricky for years. I was angry at him for what he did to me and I was angry for what a fool he had made of me for so long. Come to find out, almost everyone knew Ricky was cheating on me for all of those years… well, everyone except me, of course.

Fortunately for me, time really does heal all wounds. I’ve grown up. Ricky has grown up. Although I never recieved the apology that I so desperately wanted from Ricky back then, he has apologized to me many times since then and I have more than forgiven him. This goes back to my Unanswered Prayers post. I remember praying day in and day out that Ricky and I would end up together. I remember the excruciating pain I felt when he handed me that list. However, today I am so beyond grateful that he and I didn’t work out no matter how hard I prayed back then that we would. We are two different people and our dreams, aspirations, and goals are still very different. It would have never worked out long term anyway.

Ricky was your typical bad boy, however, I am here to tell you that there isn’t a difference between bad boys and boys who are bad for you. Sometimes boys who are bad for you don’t have the typical bad boy appeal. Sometimes they wear button up shirts everyday, they’re college educated, they own their own cars and homes, and they look picture perfect on paper. Just because they don’t look like your typical “bad boy” doesn’t mean that they aren’t bad for you. Neither bad boys or boys who are bad for you are bad people (well, I mean, I suppose sometimes they are) but that is why it is imperative that you are self aware enough to know what’s good for you and what’s not good for you.

There’s always going to be a soft spot for your exes whether they’re bad boys or boys who are bad for you. It may take a while for you to get to a place where you are at peace with whatever happened in your past relationships, but that time will always come… I promise. No matter how bad someone wronged you, or no matter how badly you were hurt, there does come a time that it simply doesn’t hurt you anymore. It usually starts with you realizing that you don’t want to feel that pain any longer, so you are forced to change your patterns in order to move on. As the years go on, you eventually realize that you can no longer endure the pain that those bad boys or boys who are bad for you bring into your life and you make the conscious decision to move on from that stage in your life. The pain decreases every single day, but sometimes it takes years to make peace with your past. However, with every heartbreak that I have endured, something better has always come along, even if it was only temporary happiness. With that in mind, I can only hope to believe that whatever happiness is in store for me in the future is going to be far more amazing  than anything that I could have ever imagined and I. Can’t. Wait.

xoxox,
Ally

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