I never voted for Obama

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obama

I never voted for Obama.

Before you call me a fool, hear me out. Tonight was a historical night. Just like November 4th, 2008 was a historical night.  Tonight, we didn’t say goodbye to our president for the last eight years – he said farewell to us.  Yes, he boasted a bit, as he should.  He deserves every bit of credit for what he achieved for this country.  And I personally can take zero credit for appointing him.

At 19, I had no idea what I really wanted in a president.  I had no idea what kind of world I was entering into as an adult.  I was a college student, working as a barista and living at my Uncle’s house virtually rent free.  At that time, I was a firm Republican who strongly opposed universal health care and felt that McCain would have been the better fit for our nation.  Regardless of the fact the I felt Palin was a joke, I voted for a strong Republican POW who most likely would have done wonderful things in his own way for our country.  It was also the first time I had ever voted in my life and my pre-frontal cortex wasn’t fully developed.  I blame my first vote primarily on the fact that my brain hadn’t fully developed, particularly the part where reasoning and overall decision making is involved.  Please note that blaming your stupid decisions on your brain before the age of 25 is completely valid.  Blame away.

In all seriousness, I acted on emotion and bias at 19.  And in 2012, at 24, I acted in ignorance and didn’t vote at all.  I was right on the cusp of reason – my 25th birthday only a few days away and the only emotion I felt at that time towards the election was indifference. Therefore, the wonderful things that President Obama did during his time in office can’t be attributed to my sad and absent voice in his election and overall presidency. But here I sit, reaping the benefits.

In all seriousness, my pre-frontal cortex is 100% liberal.

During his farewell address tonight, I sobbed like I had just watched the first 15 minutes of Up.  I cried with such a mix of emotion, both grateful and concerned for our future, that I wasn’t sure if I was either going insane or completely reasonable for the first time in eight years.

You know the phenomenon when a celebrity dies and their popularity exponentially surmounts their popularity when they were alive?  That is the sensation I am currently experiencing.  The whole “you don’t know what you got till it’s gone” sensation.  To be fair, back in 2008, I was COMPLETELY Hillary.  That is, until Hillary was pushed out by President Obama.  So, to go back to blaming emotion, here is a prime example of how butt-hurt and emotional I acted in voting for anyone besides him.  But there is no excuse – I’ve never been proven so wrong in my life.

At 12:41 am on Wednesday, November 9th 2016, a friend called and woke me from an avoidant slumber.  I had gone to bed early in order to miss the stress of the election.  He informed me of our president elect.  I pretended that our conversation was a dream until about 7 am that same morning when I sleepily scrolled my Facebook feed in an effort to confirm that I had in fact dreamt the contents of our discussion. Sadly, all I got was disheartening news.  I applied my eyeliner more than once that morning – I cried while sipping coffee and listening to my go-to happy movie (Home for the Holidays).  My mother called me to bask in her electoral triumph only to induce more tears and anger on my end.  I’ve chosen to still love her unconditionally.

Looking back, I remember being upset about President Obama’s election, but I never felt emotionally distraught.  I never felt concerned for our country’s future when Obama was appointed as our nation’s leader.  I legitimately cannot say the same thing today as Mr. Trump (and he will REMAIN Mr. Trump until he is either assassinated, impeached or God willing, beaten by a democrat in four years) was nominated as our president-elect.

I don’t care if it bothers you that he is black. I don’t care if you think he was too young or unqualified.  I don’t care if you think he “did nothing” for our country in eight years.  Take a giant fucking look at who this country just nominated – a bloated, orange and incredibly under-qualified ignoramus will be running this country in just nine short days.  A man who stands for nothing but his own pride will soon be controlling our rights as American citizens.  A man who makes fun of the mentally disabled, discredits hard working immigrants, calls out women for not looking like his mail-order bride and who has never in his life had a hand in politics.  This feeling I have right now is the epitome of “Holy shit, what have we done?”

If it had been Hillary or Bernie going into office in nine days, I would still be just as emotional and remorseful.  It doesn’t take a Trump to make you realize the accomplishments of President Obama.  He brought us out of a recession created by his predecessors, marriage equality, a nation void of torture, a relationship with Cuba, a globalized outreach for controlling climate change and a continuation of a war on terror and the misrepresentation of a humble and ancient culture.

I know that in four years, I will not feel the same emotions I feel tonight.  I will happily say goodbye to Mr. Trump, whether or not he succeeds in anything worth talking about. His farewell address will be full of misplaced boasting.  My pre-frontal cortex tells me so.  The uplifting and unifying words we heard tonight from President Obama will be absent in Mr. Trump’s address, but they will not be forgotten.  “Change only happens when ordinary people get involved” – Goddammit people, we must STAY involved.  Yes, our forefathers argued.  But they also compromised.  We must recollect and stay strong.  We must be the voice for those who don’t have one, we must come together to be the push our young nation needs in the right direction.

So here I sit, admitting to the world that I never voted for one our country’s greatest Presidents.  But I can happily and genuinely say for one last time – Thanks Obama. Thank you for setting us up for a fight and a drive to persevere.

Upping the Dumping Game – An open letter to the last guy I went out on a date with.

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Dating

Dear Successful_Smart_Athletic,

In order to keep my points clear and concise, I will be delivering this public service announcement via bullet points.  It’s also fitting since your unaffected simplicity wouldn’t allow you to follow anything as abstract as creative writing.  Here’s to pacifying your left brained idiocy:

  • I met you on POF.  Your initial message to me was longer than any other message I had received after two days of one worded “hey’s!” and I was flattered by your words regardless of your robotic delivery.
  • Your initial message also had another girl’s username above mine which you tried to blame on your new tablet automatically copying and pasting it there.  All I could envision was you constructing this generic message and sending it to every girl you thought was hot, customizing it by adding in our names at the top.  I retracted this thought once we started texting but looking back, it all makes a little more sense.
  • I enjoyed texting back in forth with you for a week.  Again, you’re robotic nature made me curious about how you would conduct yourself during a real conversation so we scheduled a phone call.  Scheduled. A. Phone. Call. Red flag #1.
  • Upon further investigation during our scheduled phone call, I found out you were a structural engineer and a light bulb went off.  Your spectrumy tendencies all of a sudden made much more sense.  I’ll give you credit for random snippets of silliness here and there, giving me some hope for a sense of humor somewhere.
  • You have the voice of a boy who recently went through puberty and hasn’t quite worked out the kinks in your developing vocal cords.  You also have a Michigan accent.  However, Rick Moranis has always done something for me in a weird way and the way you spoke took me to a young Moranis in Ghostbusters and the nerd in me was intrigued.
  • We hadn’t planned on seeing each other for another week, but my plans for the weekend fell through and you asked me out.  I bought an outfit specifically for the date since you instructed me to dress semi-formally, which wouldn’t be the last time you directed my clothing choices in our short “relationship”.  But since our date was a mystery to me, I took your suggestion as a sweet gesture.
  • I was oddly nervous meeting you for the first time since I had been Catfished only a few months before.  To my delight, you looked like your photos but your 5’9″ height description on POF was a bit of a stretch.  How about 5’7″ and 3/4? Thank god I hadn’t worn heels.
  • I have to give you props on the first part of our date’s location, however we arrived 2 hours early for our reservation.
  • After the fancier portion of our evening was over, I took you to a local spot of mine and we enjoyed a couple of beers. At 10pm and EIGHT HOURS of being around you, I didn’t hate you.  However, I didn’t expect you to invite yourself to stay over.  I felt guilty though since you lived an hour away and had been drinking so I obliged.
  • This DID NOT mean that I would put out which for some reason was the impression you were under.  Your futile and emotionally unintelligent attempts to pursue me only made me want to ask you to leave.  In an effort to save your ego, I pretended to fall asleep.
  • You overstayed your welcome the following morning.
  • When you kiss, you make the “mwah” noise afterwards.  Really? Did I just kiss my 3 year old god son or a grown man?
  • You deleted your POF account immediately after our first date.  Red Flag #2.
  • You literally guilt me into a second date.  Your words: “I mean I did pick you up and drive you on our last date”. When I asked you if you were really resorting to guilt tactics and I was clearly irritated with you, you called to apologize immediately.  I then agreed to meet up with you the following day.  Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
  • I feel like I pursued you because you looked great on paper: you own your own home and a golden retriever, you have a great career and a master’s degree. I figured I could brush all the dry and mechanically awkward portions of our interactions under the “getting to know each other” rug and continue trying.
  • Second date wasn’t terrible; aside from the fact that you invited me go rock crawling with your guy friends the next day under the stipulation that I dressed “slutty”……………………………………………………………..WAT?! I remember laughing at this only to have you seriously request: “you know, maybe some daisy dukes or something”.  Apparently, scantily clad women make guys who spend way too much money on penis compensating trucks, braver when it comes to climbing over boulders. Red flag # 1-fucking-billion and a half.
  • I got more friend vibes than boyfriend vibes.  I also actually watched your facial expressions change when I stated that I could never be a stay at home mom but I attributed this expression to gas more than anything.
  • We drank way too much and on the walk home, you purchased a bong from a convenience store at 11:30pm and then passed out on your couch.
  • After driving home at 5am the following day, I sent you a text to bail on plans for rock climbing as I had never intended on joining you after your outfit requests. You responded with a frowney face.  From here, neither of us spoke for a couple days.  After going from multiple texts a day to nothing along with my genuine feelings of unattraction, I sent you a mild Dear John text stating that we are different people and I enjoyed our time together and you’re really nice but….. Blah blah blah.
  • You immediately called me upon receiving this text.  I didn’t answer.  You left a voicemail and then a text where you said the same thing in each message and I quote: “I feel like my heart has gone in another direction, you’re just in a really *slight giggle* different PLACE in life than I am.  I really want to be your friend though……” I didn’t even finish the voicemail before deleting it as well as blocking your number.
  • Now you know why this entire letter, composed of bullet points to assist your simple little mind, has been RIDDLED in disdain for who I found you to be.  I’m irritated that after giving you the benefit of the doubt, you had the audacity to try to out-win me in the break up game.

Let me clarify a few things for you:

1.) We have NEVER been in the same place in life, nor will we ever. You’re a trust fund baby whose daddy works for GM in Detroit.  You don’t know financial struggle, student debt or doing anything without the help of your parents.  I’ve worked for my home and the things in it and I’m still paying for my own education.

2.) Your last name is atrocious.  I pretend to play this pseudo-feminist who plans to keep my last name upon marriage but the truth is I want the same last name as my children someday.  However you would have been the acceptation.  Your last name is the front liner for a depressing Johnny Depp/Leo DiCaprio/Juliet Lewis movie title.

3.) The bottom line is that you weren’t good enough for me.  I would have been stupid and continued to make excuses as to why you should have stayed in my life like I’ve done with most men before you.  Additionally, you berated our short existence with rude and sexist remarks and opinions.  I should thank you but I won’t.  Instead, I’ll hope that your 33 year old ass will eventually figure out you have zero back bone and the smallest penis I’ve felt through a pair of jeans.  I hope you’ll realize that strong women who want both children and a life are no longer few and far between; we are everywhere.  And we have to cohabitate with the likes of you.

4.) I hope to help other beautiful, independent and open minded women in this generation come to the realization that for every 10 pieces of shit they date, there’s ONE good one.  These women need to be picky, they need to be smart.  They need to take their time because one little dick isn’t worth the bigger picture.

I know I sound like a woman scorned but I’m not.  I’m a woman who is so sick of men like you and finally willing to say it out loud.

Cold regards,

Me.

*POF username was not changed for this letter, however as noted above, the account was deleted after our first date.  I’m sure there is another one out there, just look for different variations of the same words since originality is out of the question for this guy.

*Image cred goes to http://www.bellenews.com and Taylor Swift who is equally as good at airing an ex’s dirty laundry as I am.

What my best friend taught me about love: 

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When I say “best friend”, I am not referring to my boyfriend, fiance, or husband.  I am referring to my best gal pal, my main amigo, my “chick” before “d**k” if you will.  And while a lot of us find a best friend in those we choose to romantically love, I’ve yet to find a lover who loves me in a way my best friend does.
Get any sexual conotations out of your mind please and realize I’m onto something much deeper.

You see, for someone who doesn’t see much worth within themselves, it’s priceless to find someone who sees you for all that you are if not more under no obligation.  No obligation meaning to following:

-Not a family member.

-Not dependent upon you for money, food, sex, survival, etc.

-Not in “it” for a personal gain or future goal.

It’s priceless to find someone who simply enjoys you for you.  And ONE of the ultimate goals in life is to find that in a partner, right? Of course! We are human, we are meant to pair off and breed ( and/or adopt) and make more combinations of beings that represent the things we like most about ourselves and our partners.  However, before we EVER meet “the one” there is typically the best friend.  Friends come and go, we change and they change.  We all have the k-12 best friend, the college best friend, the professional best friend.  I’m lucky enough to have a few people I consider best friends in my life, from many different facets and time periods.

But there is always that one that sticks to you, that chose you and stuck with you out of sheer attraction.  That one who you’ve disagreed with, who you’ve gone long periods of time without talking to yet picking up right where you left off with. That one you’ve seen cry in times of happiness and sadness and the one you’ve cried for during their times of happiness and sadness.  The one who knows all of your secrets because regardless of how terribly embarassing the secret may be, you still tell them. The one who’s seen you eat way too many reeces peanut butter cups in one sitting while in your underwear.

My embodiment of this particular person resides in a petite 5’2″ mother of two with the mouth of an Alaskan truck driver and heart of the Dali Lama.  She stands for justice, she’s logical, generous and without a doubt, the best wine drinker I’ve ever met.

I remember the first heart to heart we ever had and we’ve had many in our nearly 10 years of friendship.  But this one took place on a night club couch over cheap drink specials packed with sugar and enough bass coming through the sound system to fracture a cochlear implant.  Recalling the context of the conversation proves difficult now for reasons residing in the previous sentence.  But in that moment, I found a soul mate.  It wasn’t some shallow connection you make with a random person in order to avoid confrontation or group exclusion.  It was real and immediately following this convo we shared a bathroom to solidify our friendship and maybe also to avoid standing in line alone/again.

We’ve shared long nights of drinking and dancing.  We’ve shared long days of coffee and errands.  We’ve worked and lived together.  We’ve mourned together and rejoiced in new life together. We’ve watched each other’s hearts break multiple times and always been each other’s shoulder to cry on.

We’ve seen each other at our best and worst.  At our fattest and thinnest.  At our happiest and saddest.  The other day I showed up to her home only to find her in her husbands boxer briefs and a t-shirt, glass of wine already in hand. Instead of a “Hi” or an unnecessary explanation of her current attire, I received a well deserved “You’re looking trim!” which from anyone else would have been a blow but from her meant the world cause I know how honest she truly is.

She isn’t just there to pacify my every indulgence either.  She holds no qualms in letting me know when I’m off track or wrong in a particular situation.  She will tell me when my make-up looks like shit or if I need to run a brush through my hair. Or if I need to get my life straight.  She is real with me when I’ve seen her fake it with others.

Since our beginning, she’s added a husband and two beautiful children to her world.  She’s also included and welcomed me into her family and in turn, they’ve accepted me as one of their own.  The amount of love I have received  from my best friend and her family is some times overwhelming because I worry that I’ll never be able to return it all which is where I draw upon the number one lesson I’ve gained from having my best friend in my life:

I finally came to the realization that love is not currency.  It doesn’t create a negative or positive balance. If someone chooses to love you, they simply do for all that you are, in all of your entirety.  Your mistakes and downfalls will come and go.  As long as you love them back in a way that perpetuates mutual respect and is healthy for all involved, live in that love. Don’t worry so much about the conscious effort of giving it back because by simply being yourself, you already do.  

I understand that my best friend and I don’t discuss finances or how we plan to raise our children.  We don’t sleep in the same bed or shower together like we do with our partners.  I understand that there are elements to a romantic partnership that never dwell within that of a best friendship.  However, I know what kind of love my best friend has for me and in turn, I know how I deserve to be loved by someone else.  I know what kind of love to look for when searching for that one person I’m supposed to discuss finances and babies with because of her.

So here’s to you Best Friend. I love that you shamelessly live in a t-shirt most of the time and meander around while humming your own personal theme music. I love that I see your personality in your children already and that your husband is as equally as wonderful as you are. Thank you for teaching me that I am worthy of love.

*thanks google search for an image that met a memory of mine.