Hello, Readers. Welcome back to yet another potentially exciting
week in the life of this blog. I have to
admit that it’s been quite sketchy this season.
How sketchy? Well, in light of
the passionate responses I’ve received for my DP Tells All 4 Post, I’ve chosen
to gloss over the final episode of Emily’s season. She picked Jef. He’s rich, relatively funny, has a huge
family with tons of kids, and she did a thorough background check on him and
his wallet prior to the season. It’s not
a surprise, although I did enjoy the guessing game in the early part of the
season.
I wish them oodles of happiness
after the searing glare of the spotlight dies down and they’re forced to define
themselves as a normal couple. Like Ed
and his tiny green bathing suit, Jef lacked the physical prowess that many of
his competitors tucked snugly beneath their v-neck t-shirts. It’s impossible to ignore the financial
security and the giant ranch that comes with becoming Mrs. Jef; however, I’d
like to believe the attraction was real.
In retrospect, it was apparent from very early in the season.
Incidentally, I don’t fault Emily
for putting healthy finances on her list of must haves. I never got the impression that she was
looking solely for money and there’s nothing wrong with wanting a comfortable
life for her and her daughter. In fact,
one of you sent me an email about how Emily is independently wealthy (like five
million bucks wealthy) via her share in her family’s business in addition to
her little stipend from the Hendricks family.
Every person wants a measure of security for his or her family. I don’t see anything wrong with being honest
about that up front. If her intentions
are not genuine, she’ll pay for it with a lot more than money.
With yet another season out of
the way, it’s time for DP Tells All: Part 4.
Thanks to those of you who sent in questions and, while I’m at it,
thanks to all of you who sent well wishes about my last post. It’s incredibly humbling to know that what I
type here each week makes it across the globe not to mention the fact that it
positively affects a lot of you. I’m
thankful each day for that gift and I smile each time I hit the “Post Blog”
icon on my screen. Stay in touch this
off season, please.
As is my custom, I took the
emails I received and culled them down into common themes and subject
matter. I try and cover all that is
asked, but if I don’t hit your point, feel free to email me and we’ll discuss
it off line.
DISCLAIMER: My usual disclaimer to first timers or some
timers here is that these posts answer reader questions and are often my least
funny. I answer what I’m asked. Hang in there for the next post if you want
to laugh. More about that later. Also, this post is purposefully LONG. I know you’re starved for time killers during
your week and I carved out some extra time this week to get some more questions
answered. Feel free to piece meal this
one in between whatever it is you all do for a living. I hope you enjoy. Now let’s get to it.
Your
love of Emily is obvious. How do you
feel about her fake boobs?
As far as I’m concerned, if I can
touch them, they’re real. Alright,
that’s my first reaction; however, after some reflection, I think what this
reader is implying is that somehow any woman who chooses to get a little nip or
tuck is somehow fake or disingenuous.
I’ll comment on Emily and then on that issue in general.
The person who sent this is
right. I find Emily attractive and I’ve
made no secret about that. However,
attraction is an odd thing and there’s a lot more to it for me than pretty
wrapping paper, i.e. white shorts----perfectly fitting, perfectly placed, white
shorts. Emily is by far the most
sincere, articulate, and non-giggly Bachelorette I’ve seen since watching the
show; and that includes the vast majority of the contestants on The Bachelor.
Granted, the “normal” ones with a
conscience and at least a modicum of standards usually get sent home early, but
I think it’s fair to say that Emily is “different” compared to what usually
washes up on the wet driveway in episode one.
She was empathetic, funny, a mother first, and seemed to have a grasp
that she was on a game show. I liked
Jillian too; although a little nip and tuck on her nose wouldn’t have hurt her
appearance.
Plastic surgery is a personal
choice and I have no problem with it from that perspective. If someone wants to make something larger or
smaller in the name of self-esteem then so be it. The issue often resides beyond what can be
nipped and tucked, however.
Additionally, we all know there
are degrees that should be kept in mind when choosing to go under the knife. There’s a big difference between buying a new
pair of dress shoes and running down to the dollar store for a pair of giant
clown shoes. Plastic surgery is like a
good haircut: it should be noticeable
without being patently obvious. It’s one
thing to be firm and perky. It’s another
thing to look like you’re stealing ham or you’ve been punched in the lips. I think Emily’s alleged adjustments are
tastefully appropriate.
From the mound of emails I
receive on this issue (about 50/50 in favor), I think two things are operating
here. First, most feel that being 26 and
naturally pretty should be enough. In
other words, the plastic surgery is nothing more than an attempt to be, well,
plastic. I disagree with that. It’s often the most attractive people who
feel the most insecure. Remember the
story of the Ugly Duckling? Pretty
people often grow up awkward and those of us old enough to have perspective
realize that we still see that Ugly Duckling in the mirror no matter how the
rest of the world might see us. Perhaps
Emily sees herself as that Ugly Duckling; which brings me to my second
point.
The rest of the emails seem to
imply that plastic surgery in general is something that spoiled,
money-grubbing, rich women do with their boyfriends’ money. I suppose there is a segment of the
population that meets that description.
The entire Real Housewives series comes to mind. However, I don’t believe that Emily
does. I compare this argument to the
argument I get in with my more “enlightened” friends. There is a pitcher on the Yankees named C.C.
Sabathia who signed an 8 year 181 million dollar contract. Humor me for a moment.
That’s about 23 million dollars a
year. Considering the fact that Major
League pitchers usually pitch on a 5 day rotation and the regular season is 162
games that means he’ll pitch in approximately 32 games. That’s about $720,000 per game. If you break that down to a standard average
of 100 pitches (which is about the top end of how long they’ll leave him in
there) then that’s about $7,200 every time he throws a pitch. If you break that down to strikes vs. balls,
he’s into five figures every time the throws a strike. That number doesn’t include endorsements, by
the way. So what’s the point?
The point is this: there is a huge segment of the population
that would take the position that he’s way overpaid. I have two thoughts on that and then I’ll tie
it back to the question at hand. First,
no profit making organization is going to pay that kind of money if it doesn’t
make business sense to do so. In short, the
Yankees are like the family-owned, corner convenience store. If they pay 20 cents for a Slushee then they
don’t sell it for 15 cents. Second, in America no one
can be “overpaid.” If someone came to
you and said, “Reader, you’re the best Widget Maker we have, I’d like to pay
you 181 million dollars over the next 8 years,” you’re lying if you say you’d
balk in the name of being “overpaid.” The
market pays what it makes sense to pay.
That’s not a political statement, by the way, so please spare me the
“fair share” comments. Now watch my tie
it all together.
Emily is obviously in a position
where she can afford plastic surgery—among many pairs of perfectly fitting,
well-placed, white shorts and glittery apparel.
So what? If any of us were in the
financial position to buy whatever tickles our fancy, we’d do it. Hell, many of us do that without being in the
financial position to do so. I don’t
begrudge her, or anyone else, for indulging what desires they can afford to
indulge. Is that always “fair?” Perhaps not, but then again, it’s not fair
that the father of her child was killed in a plane wreck either.
Incidentally, I think if asked
most men (including Some Guy) would say they prefer real boobs as opposed to
flotation devices. The most comparable
male equivalent I can think of would be using Rogaine or undergoing a hair
replacement procedure. The Bruce Willis
cut is somewhat in, but I believe most women would prefer at least some hair on
a guy’s head. Like giant fake boobs for
men, a toupee—unless you’re Burt Reynolds—simply won’t work.
You
reference Christian Grey and the book Fifty Shades of Grey a lot. Have you read it? What did you think?
My reference to the wonderful
trilogy is purely driven by the Fifty Million Distribution Points that I see
for the book in addition to the naughty buzz about it all over, well,
everywhere. Like malaria in the jungle,
it’s inescapable. For those of you
familiar with the blog you know I love a good pop culture reference and I write
about what I see and hear. It’s that
simple. As you might imagine, there’s
more to this story, however.
The Special Lady Friend is a
voracious reader. She’ll read just about
anything she can get her hands on and despite my well-planned attempts at
“dropping” the Kama Sutra around the house, she chose to buy a copy of Fifty
Shades—which is apparently pretty close to the Kama Sutra. Curious, I picked it up and read about the
first 1/3 of the book before putting it down in disgust.
Before you run off and label me a
Puritan, allow me to explain. As all of
you know, I’m no stranger to a filthy joke, an inappropriate reference, or abject
toilet humor. I’m also a fan of the
written word. Authors like Geoffrey
Chaucer were writing exceptionally filthy material long before E. L. James
opened her toy box and started jotting down finger bang fantasies. Even contemporary authors like Phillip Roth
have written what have been (justifiably) characterized as extremely dirty
books. Read Portnoy’s Complaint if you
don’t believe me.
In short, I don’t have problem
with filth—as long as it is well-written filth.
Penthouse Forum is more creative than this book for crying out
loud. It is HORRIBLY written prose, it
is unoriginal, uncreative, and unbelievably repetitive, not to mention wholly
unrealistic. How many women—much less
alleged virgins—can have that kind of sex every 10 minutes for days at a time
and never get sore? Please. The yeast infection she’d have after a night
with Christian Grey would justify renaming her vagina instead of his sex room
The Red Room of Pain. Alexandra Steele’s
favorite beverage should be cranberry juice.
Even if we ignore the fact that
the lead male character is a shallow, misogynistic, single-minded, sex-obsessed
bore, it is impossible to ignore the fact that the author has no interest in
developing him or the plot beyond that.
The prose is clumsy, awkward, and unnecessarily graphic to the point
where I felt myself feeling embarrassed for the author. The dialogue makes soap opera scripts sound
realistic. It’s a poorly written, poorly
developed book. Oh, and it’s also been
done before. Rent a copy of 9 ½ Weeks
with Mickey Rourke and Kim Basinger if you’re interested in Christian Grey.
The bottom line is that the
entire series is nothing more than a middle-aged woman’s collection of sex
fantasies. I’d have less of a problem if
it were marketed that way—like Penthouse Forum is for men—than having it
crammed down my throat (no pun intended) as a legitimate piece of literature in
every book store, convenience store, and airport lounge in the country.
My final point is one that I’ve
touched on here. If a male author wrote
this book the reaction would be much different.
Instead of some liberating tale of a woman’s quest to find her sexual
identity through an arrangement with a mysterious and intriguing billionaire
the book would likely be panned as the trash that it is. Double standards apply, and I understand
that. It’s just not a good book.
What
is the “secret,” “key,” “one thing,” that makes a man do X?
This one is an amalgamation of
many of the relationship questions I get from women asking me how to make their
men love them, cuddle with them, take out the trash, or obey them. This is going to be a short answer.
There is no secret, key, or one
thing that will “make” a man—or any other human being for that matter—do
anything. The only feelings a person can
change are her own. You cannot make a
man feel a certain way about you anymore than you can make the Earth turn
faster. That’s like asking Lindsay Lohan
to stop smoking and getting in car accidents.
If you sent me this question and
you’re in the early stages of a relationship, the real issue is
compatibility. I love peanut butter and
I love ketchup. However, I’d never put peanut
butter and ketchup in a jar together and eat them. They simply don’t go well together no matter
how much I want them to go together.
However, if I put peanut butter on some bread with some jelly or poured
ketchup on my French fries, both would be delicious. Look for the jelly to your peanut butter or
the ketchup to your fries. Don’t try and
turn jelly into ketchup. It won’t
work.
If you sent me this question and
you’re in the late stages of a committed relationship or even a marriage, then
the issue is one of compromise. People
either grow closer as a relationship progresses or the differences they had
between them that were pushed aside or ignored in the name of what they had in
common become more obvious and eventually become exacerbated to the point they
have to be addressed constructively or the relationship becomes toxic.
Perhaps keeping the ketchup and
French fries apart for a while will make the person eating naked French fries
appreciate the ketchup. Perhaps the
ketchup will realize that it compliments the fries and without them, will end
up sitting alone in a dark, cold refrigerator hoping for some other, much
hotter French fries to come along.
Regardless, it’s important for them to talk. You get the picture. If that doesn’t work, try putting peanut
butter on his banana. At the very least,
that should get his attention.
You
mentioned in your last post that you lost all of your confidence and were lost
as a person. As a long time reader, I
notice you Allude to that horrible time in your life often. Was it the Special Lady Friend who gave you
your confidence back or, if not, how did you get it back?
Good question. Frankly, this one would make a good post on
its own but I’ll do my best to answer it here.
The bottom line is that my
life—which had heretofore been ‘perfect’—took a right turn a few years
ago. I’d prefer not to discuss the details,
but let me just say that the build up to that right turn started many years
before it happened. Eventually, the
weight of those issues broke me as a person.
Like a car with a blown tire, I struggled to stay on the road for as
long as I could before veering off into the dirt and slamming into the first
solid object in my path.
The fallout was something that I
neither expected nor was equipped to handle.
Prior to that turn, I was an A student, an athlete, a hard worker, a
financial success, and I’d had relatively few regrets, if any, in my life. I never pictured failure in my life. That gross misconception, in a nutshell,
accelerated my “right turn” and eventually became the biggest obstacle to my
return from the abyss.
The easy answer to getting my
confidence back is to say that I reached a point where I was so sick of what I
saw in the mirror that I decided that “something” had to change. Even on the surface, I could not mask what
was spilling over inside of me. I was
out of shape, angry all of the time, apathetic, my career had gone from
stalling to moving backward, and I cared only about my next trip to the local
honky tonk and the cold Lone Star Beer behind the bar.
Not knowing where to start, I
fell back on what I had done as a teenager when I was upset. I wrote.
I bought a journal and began to write—short sentences at first—about
what I was feeling. Those bi-weekly
sentences turned in to weekly paragraphs and eventually into daily pages. I organized my thoughts and found my creative
side again. Granted, my creative side
was like Bambi on the ice, but it was no longer lying hung over in the deep
recesses of my mind.
The journal allowed me to trace
very small, sometimes imperceptible changes in my outlook and I often became
encouraged by going back and reading what I had written weeks before. I saw my light come back on little by
little. That urge to create turned into
accepting my friends’ invitation to blog about the Bachelor. It was during this time that I met the
SLF.
The bottom line is that I first re-learned
to care enough about myself by exploring my own limitations and admitting and
accepting my faults. By admitting my
faults and accepting them as unchangeable I was able to make peace with the
choices that led to my “right turn.” I
was also able to realize what true strengths I had been given and to capitalize
on them while simultaneously learning to limit my weaknesses.
The final piece of the puzzle
came when I lost the 46 pounds I’d gained over a couple year’s time. I went from 22% body fat down to 8%. I went from barely being able to jog a
quarter of a mile to running half marathons.
I suffered tremendously—both physically and mentally—during that time
but I never quit. I got my health back
and my life back and the SLF is thrilled to look at a real six pack instead of
carrying a six pack of empty Lone Star bottles from the coffee table to the
trashcan because I’m too hung over to do it myself.
I learned that just like my
failure, my success could not happen overnight.
Rather, it had to come in short, tiny, incremental, extremely painful
steps. Taking those steps required
self-discipline, diligence, and an unshakable commitment. I remember picking a 3 mile rocky, up and
down, trail run in a park about 4 miles from my house in order to begin getting
back in shape. The first time I timed
myself it took me 43 minutes of air sucking, knee killing, light headed jog
walking to stumble across the trail head.
Over the course of months, I made myself go day after day and do that
run. My current record for that same run
is 20:43 and I rarely run there because I prefer longer distances now. I could have never imagined that progress when
I was literally crying—from sadness or pain I don’t know which—through each
step of that run when I first started.
That was an incredibly lonely, humbling time in my life. I wanted to quit every time I began at first.
Like Jacob on his ladder, I fell
many times before I gained my footing. I
was fortunate enough to have the SLF in my life at the time. She accepted those falls as part of my
process and helped me off the floor rather than berating me for being there or
simply walking away. I am eternally
grateful for that support. However, the
vast majority of my healing process took place in my own head. I still struggle from time to time. The difference now is that I understand that
things will never be truly ‘perfect.’
Whoever sent this question, the
best and shortest piece of advice I can give you is “Don’t Quit.” I hope that helps.
You
have a really creative side. Are you
creative in other areas of your life?
This question begs for a filthy
response. However, I’m going to take the
high road this time. First of all, thank
you for the compliment. I’ve said before
that one of the reasons I think this blog “works” for people is that I write
directly from my stream of consciousness.
In other words, reading this is exactly what you’d get if you were
sitting down talking to me. I type,
rarely edit, and just hit send. If that
sounds “creative” then I suppose that’s what it is.
As far as the rest of my life, I
just live it like I live it. I love the
outdoors and I literally feel most connected to myself and to the world when
I’m on a mountain bike or running through nature. Those moments inspire me and it was the loss
of the opportunity to connect with that side of myself that lead to the circumstances
I discussed in the last question. So, in
a word, I suppose that my creative side needs to be fed in order for me to be
me. Starving it doesn’t make me a nice
person. The problem with repressed
feelings is that they eventually find a way to unrepress themselves. For me, expression in a positive way is a
necessity. That carries over into all
areas of my life.
Example? My high school English class was given the
assignment of picking a literary work and dissecting the prose in order to identify
various literary devices used by the author.
Alliteration, caesura, rhyme, rhythm, etc. were what the teacher was
looking for in our presentation to the class.
After sitting and listening to my fellow classmates stumble over
Shakespeare, botch Bacon, and destroy Donne, I got up, cleared my throat and
said: “You were born to be my baby and
baby I was made to be your man.” I
pointed to the brilliant use of alliteration by the modern poet, Jon Bon
Jovi.
Despite the laughter in the room
and the utter shock on the teacher’s face, I received an A+ on my project. The teacher took me in the hall before the
next class and encouraged me to do something with my writing. I suppose that was a point in my early youth
that I realized my gift of gab could work in my favor. True story.
I use that talent liberally today while constantly reminding myself of
the aforementioned faults I have. Balance
is the key to keeping that talent in check.
Hell, balance is the key to keeping that talent at all.
Political
questions
I suppose the series of
politically based questions I get stems from the fact that we’re 4 months out
from what promises to be a contentious election cycle. These questions range from asking my
political party preference, my stance on gay marriage, and my hatred of either
party’s candidate.
Elvis Presley was once asked a
similar question in an interview at the Houston Astrodome in the early ‘70’s
regarding his stance on the Vietnam War.
His reply was something like, “Honey, I’m an entertainer. That’s what I do. I’d prefer to keep my political opinions to
myself.” Amen.
If I wanted to express political
opinions or engage in social commentary I would have started a politically
based blog. I comment on a reality show
and share anecdotes about funny things from my life. That’s the point of this blog and that’s as
far as I’d like to take it.
I doubt that I’ve said enough
within the pages of this blog over the past few years that would lead any
person to an accurate description of my beliefs. The only thing I’ll say is that I have very
strong political, social, and religious beliefs and I make a constant effort to
explore what I believe and why I believe it.
I think any person who plans to vote, protest, or worship—or question
the manner in which anyone does the aforementioned three things—should do the
same. I never cease to be amazed at the
lack of knowledge people have in bar discussions, dinner debates, and even on
television shows when it comes to discussing issues.
Look, I’m not George Will or
James Carville. However, I won’t debate
an issue that I’m not well-versed to debate.
I’ll admit ignorance or I simply won’t engage in the discussion. The best example (and least politically
charged) I can give is when people bust my balls about how badly they hate
lawyers or how “wrong” the court was in a well-publicized decision. About 99% of the people who give me a hard
time have no concept of the law, the jury process, how a verdict works, etc. They regurgitate what they read and latch on
to a purely emotional response. It’s
impossible to reason with someone who is only seeking an argument. The same goes for religious arguments. Incidentally, there is an exceptionally
well-done documentary entitled Hot Coffee about the legal system and,
specifically the infamous McDonald’s coffee lawsuit that every person should
watch. You’ll be amazed.
I respect people like George Will
and James Carville. Although I might
disagree with either one of them on a variety of issues, they are people who
know what they believe and why they believe it.
I look for the same qualities in the people I vote for to lead me. That applies to the President of the United States
all the way down to the President of my Homeowner’s Association.
I
give a lot of myself in my relationships. my husband and my family demand a lot of me and I do my best to make everyone happy. I am
starting to resent this a lot because I feel like I don’t get a lot of simple things back from them. I love them all but I’m tired. Advice?
“I give a lot of myself in
relationships” means that you often feel like a doormat.
“My husband and my family demand
a lot of me and I do my best to make everyone happy” means that your husband
and family expect you to do everything for them and you end up doing it out of
some sort of misplaced feeling of obligation that amounts to enabling
them.
“I am starting to resent this a
lot” means that you’ve been upset about it for a long time but you have no idea
how to make it stop.
Am I close?
You are a classic people pleaser
and, in turn, an enabler. People take
from others only what they are allowed to take and people like you will give
until you’re miserable either for fear of disappointing someone or out of a
desire (likely a subconscious one) for unconditional acceptance. You wear this obligation like a hair
shirt. It humbles you yet gives you a
feeling of self-worth. You struggle with
this feeling on a daily basis because you tell yourself that it is your job to
please the people around you yet you’re miserable doing it.
Am I still close?
In relationships—PAY CLOSE
ATTENTION LADIES—people get exactly and only what they are willing to
accept. Changing your own behavior is
the key to changing the behavior of others.
If you cap that off with the fact that a people pleaser like you is
unlikely to protest or complain even though she’s miserable then the person (or
people) taking and taking tiny bits of your soul each day remain oblivious to the
fact that they are taking it. Setting a
firm boundary and sticking to it is the first key to fixing the problem.
Remember the ketchup and peanut
butter example from above? Apply it
here. It sounds like your people pleasing
which is normally a good quality if not taken advantage of—has been mixed with
a person or group of people who lean too hard on your propensity to
please. That’s either because you picked
them that way or you’ve cultivated that propensity through your own behavior. The balance has been tipped in their favor
and pleasing has become hard work.
Try this four step approach EVERY
TIME you find yourself bending until you snap.
1. Set the boundary:
If the question is “honey, can you get up and get me a beer?” Simply,
get up, get the beer and then tell him that he should expect to get himself a
beer the next time both of you are sitting there in similar positions.
2. Weather the storm:
the next time he asks, remind him that he should get the beer himself
and then do not allow yourself to be guilted into getting it. People used to you doing what they ask will
literally react like 4 year old children when you tell them no. They will throw a tantrum, become hurt and
angry, and try to manipulate you into giving in to old ways. Hold the line and stick to the boundary. He’ll get up if he wants the beer badly
enough.
3. Reset the expectation:
Thanks for getting the beer. I
appreciate you doing that. It let’s me
relax instead of waiting on everyone.
4. Don’t be afraid to dig a trench: If the boundaries are not ultimately
respected do not be afraid to take the hard line. If he won’t agree then you have to take a
hard stance. Not only do you not get the
beer from the fridge, you no longer buy it at the store. This is not a competition but it can become a
battle of wills. You get the
picture. If you’ve communicated a
boundary that is necessary for your own happiness and you’ve done that in a
respectful, constructive way without being arbitrary, then it becomes incumbent
upon the people that you chose to bring into your life to respect that. It is never too much to ask, particularly of
a husband, that mutual respect be a part of the equation.
With family, it’s funny. It’s much more difficult to ask a parent to
undo a lifetime of parenting, but ultimately, a version of that has to happen
in order to you to truly be an adult—and therefore a peer as opposed to a child—in
your relationship with them. Parents—mothers
in particular—are masters of manipulation and guilt mongering. Being able to draw a hard line and change
that relationship is very difficult but it reaps huge rewards.
Use the four steps above with any
problem and you’ll find that setting the boundary will lead to one of two
conclusions if you stick to your guns:
the relationship with either change for the positive or it will get
worse before things can ultimately change for the positive. Like my runs through the woods, it will be a struggle
seemingly not worth going through at first.
However, there is no solution beyond that. You either accept your current situation or
you take the steps necessary to change it.
That may end up costing you that relationship in exchange for your
sanity. Only you can make that
choice.
Finally, do not be afraid to ask
for what you need in return. I’d like a
day at the spa or I’d like to go on a walk after I cook dinner so you and the
kids can clean the plates and table.
Whatever it is, be clear, communicate it without equivocation, and
expect them to act on it. Be aware of
your propensity to give in and your overwhelming desire to please and recognize
the pitfalls associated with that behavior.
At first, minimize your exposure to situations where you’re
vulnerable. It’s like a freshly sober alcoholic
going to a bar or a fat person going to a fast food restaurant when she’s
hungry. It’s no different for you. It’s all about the boundary and it’s all
about being realistic.
Well, there it is. DP Tells All Part 4. So serious this time! Never fear, however. I have a great story from my youth teed up
for next week’s post. Thank you all for
reading during the season and thanks to those of you who stick around for the
off season as well. Stay in touch, send
in ideas, and take care of yourselves.
In the meantime, if you need me, I’ll be setting boundaries. DP
