Musings on Life and Love

Photo courtesy of the State Library of New South Wales

Grief. It affects us all, in some form or another. Unless you pass through life in a catatonic state, it’s going to hit you someday, and you will be completely blindsided. Whether it’s the loss of a loved one, or a particularly nasty breakup, or even breaking a nail (I don’t know, it could be a really nice nail…), pain is inevitable. Life is pain. Anyone who says different…. *Ahem.*

The point is, everyone hurts. It’s how you deal with it that makes you who you are. I’ve had people tell me that everyone deals with pain differently, and while that may be true to some extent, I don’t entirely believe it. Just from my experience, there are certain modes people fall back upon to deal with grief. Some people deal with it using drugs or alcohol. Some fall into depression. Some people take it out on other people. Some just stop living.

There are the people who use it for good, who take their grief and turn it into something that helps others, and then there are the people on the opposite end of the spectrum who take it and hold onto it, using it as an excuse for their bitterness and lash out at anyone and everyone who comes near them. Read more…

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“I can’t do this right now.”

“It’s not you. It’s me.”

Have you ever found yourself saying one of these lines?

Wait. Let me be more specific…. Have you ever found yourself saying one of these lines sincerely, without using it as an excuse to dump someone whom you can’t think of a better reason to dump?

The response to some of my recent articles has really made me ponder what the term “baggage” means. We humans are intelligent creatures. Like the lab rat who learns to press the button that gives him food instead of the one that gives him an electric shock, we quickly learn to avoid situations that have caused us pain in the past. That’s a good thing. But, what happens if the rat becomes so terrified of getting shocked that he also stops pressing the button that gives him food? This rat has become so traumatized that he is unable to distinguish the good button from the bad button. Well, I frequently see people doing this in their dating lives. They become so traumatized by a failed relationship that they render themselves unable to create a meaningful relationship with a new person. To me, that’s baggage. And whether or not you choose to carry your baggage with you throughout your life is a conscious choice that only you can make. Read more…

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A female friend of mine recently said something to the effect that “guys want you to reject them the first few times. If you move too fast, they’ll lose interest in you.”

Her comments—and the blanket statements that she loves to make about men—really got me to thinking. Are there any hard and fast rules about dating? Are there any universal laws and truths about men (or women, for that matter)? Can we break down male behavior into five, or fifty, or even five hundred simple rules that every woman can apply across the spectrum to help her find her perfect man? And how many small island nations could I afford to buy if I discovered these rules?

As I see it, if the easy solution were out there, we would’ve found it by now. If there really were a concrete set of rules that women can apply to all men, then wouldn’t you think that everyone would soon learn about them, and therefore every woman in the world should have found her ideal man by this point? Read more…

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If you had to sum up your worst date ever in one sentence, what would it be?

Here’s mine: I made a girl cry on a first date.

How exactly does one accomplish this, you ask? Let me tell ya….

My first date with “Monica” was actually one of the most fun dates I’d ever been on (well, everything up to the point where I made her cry). We had met at a mutual friend’s party, and when I called her a few days later, we chatted for almost an hour before we decided that we might as well go out to dinner. After dinner, we weren’t ready to call it a night, so we headed to a local bar, where we laughed over cocktails for several more hours. Towards the end of the evening, Monica asked if I wanted to “go see a movie or something.” Now, seeing as how it was 11:30 PM on a weeknight, I responded that it was probably too late to see a movie, but we could watch a DVD back at my place. She liked the idea, so we headed out.

Once we got to my car, though, Monica seemed to have a change of heart. Read more…