can you really have it all?

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In a time where more and more women are climbing the Corporate Ladder, earning higher salaries, and building their own businesses, it's amazing how women are able to juggle it all.  I used to think it was either one or the other - a successful career or a loving relationship - but as I look around, I'm starting to wonder:

Can young women really have it all - a successful career, a happy and loving relationship and meaningful friendships?

I've never been able to juggle it all.  Lately I've been so career-driven and focused that I've pushed relationships and dating to the side.  Am I being selfish?  Maybe.  But I think I need to be - at least for the moment - in order for me to continue to work toward a successful career.  However, while it's nice to be so focused on my career, I definitely don't want to be one of those women who don't know how to juggle anything else in her life.  I want to be able to keep myself focused on my career path and have a relationship and maintain my meaningful friendships and play sports a few nights a week and... and... and...

I've never been on a first date.  I've always rushed into every single one of my relationships to the point where our "first date" ends up being meeting at a noisy, crowded bar with a group of friends.  And then those "first dates" may or may not have led to the walk-of-shame/kicking-the-guy-out-of-my-house-at-8AM.

So, maybe that's my problem? Maybe it's also why I'm in therapy.

Is it just me or is the first date no longer sacred?  Or am I just choosing the wrong men?  Or is the new thing now sleeping on the first date?!   

I know I've kind of been out of the dating world lately.  Not because I want to be, but moreso because I can't find anyone worth dating.  My last fling didn't work out so well (note to all you men out there:  hairy backs are not attractive), and I decided to take a respite from dating after that.  You would too if you had seen his hairy back!

I suppose over the years I've raised my standards of dating.  I've already done the hook-ups, one-night stands, and friends-with-benefits thing.  I've dated men with less than average packages who didn't know how to use them, and men who have over-sized packages, know how to use them, but fall short in creating any kind of emotional spark.  At the same time though, I also found a man who I thought was my soulmate, who satisfied me in every intellectual and physical way possible (you're welcome for the visual there), yet he still fell short.  Is it really that tough to find someone to connect with on every emotional and physical level? I know it's not about finding the perfect person, and I know the reality is that not every will satisfy you.  So when you find someone worth dating, and they don't satisfy every single one of your relationships needs, are you settling? 

Maybe, because I've been out of the dating world for a while, I don't know what I want.  Maybe everything has changed - first dates, first kisses, first intimate encounters.  Do we rush into relationships and engagements and marriage because we're infatuated with the idea of always having someone, of the convenience, of the intimate connection ... instead of searching for that one person who give you butterflies, challenges you in ways you never thought and makes you believe in that thing called true love?

Can you really have it all?

on my memoir. and a reference to gay men and anal.

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One of my ultimate goals in life is to become a published writer.  Sure, I'm a blogger for Brand-Yourself.com and a writer for the Examiner.com and I've got street cred out the wa-zoo it's all fun and awesome, but I want to publish a book.  Specifically, my memoir. 

So, I've been reading a lot of great books lately.  Like Michael J. Fox's new book, A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Future and Jennifer Love Hewitt's, The Day I Shot Cupid.  Both of these are amazing and funny.  I'm not a big JLH fan, but my BFF wants this for her birthday next month, so I found it cheap on Amazon and figured I may as well read it, right?  The verdict is in: every woman needs to read this book.  I mean, I hate all things chick lit, but this one is definitely  worth it because she talks about crabs.  The STD, not the food.  And yesterday, on a whim, I decided to buy Jen Lancaster's Such a Pretty Fat, and holy cow this book is hilarious!  

Note: I'm a sucker for really good memoirs.  Especially anything by my two favorite authors, David Sedaris and Augusten Burroughs.  Because reading about someone else's messed up life makes me think that maybe my life isn't that bad.

Maybe.

So, I'm writing my memoir.  It's been a work-in-progress for about seven years now (albeit slow progress), but it's officially crap and not something I want published.  Or even read by any of my friends.  

See, that's the thing about memoirs.  It has to be good.  Like, really, really ridiculously, mind-blowing-ly, "ohmygawdthatwasawesome"-ly good.  Whether it's about overcoming some kind of horrific, life-changing disaster or going from zero-to-hero, it has to be something your audience wants to read.  

And therein lies my problem.  

What do I have to provide to my audience?  Why is my story worth telling?  What can my audience learn from my book?

Absolutely nothing.

Sure, I have tons of crazy, drunken stories to tell.  Like that time I boarded the wrong plane and landed in Jacksonville.  Or that time I got propositioned for a threesome in Vegas and mistaken for a prostitute all in one night.  Or that time I had sex with a ziplock bag (no, I wasn't fisting myself with a ziplock bag).  Or that time a guy went wrist deep inside me to get a condom out.  But do people really want to read about that?

My current angle for my memoir is about how I transformed into [my version of] Superwoman by overcoming the loss of both of my parents and cervical cancer by age 25, and embarking on changing the world, but I realize that people probably wouldn't want to read that either, because it's just another cancer story and it's not like I'm curing AIDS or anything that a real Superwoman would do.

My flaw is, I feel like I have nothing to give people.  No one really wants to hear my story.  Sure, I've endured a lot in my 26 years, but who hasn't?  What makes my experiences any more challenging than your experiences?

I've always felt this way.  Maybe it stems from not having a close relationship with my parents, but I always feel like I don't have anything to give anyone.  I don't tell people my past experiences because it's all "Debbie Downer" and depressing and who really wants to hear about that?

I've wanted to write my memoir since I was 12 years old because I want to believe that I have a good story to tell and that maybe someone out there can relate to it or learn from it, but I don't know how to write the damn thing.  It's about believing you have an important story to tell, a life lesson to teach someone, an experience that changed your life that someone can learn from, and I don't know how to do that; I don't know how to write well.

Again, this all goes back to my #1 stunna flaw of feeling like I have nothing to give.  I also feel like I'm a terrible writer, but that's neither here nor there. 

It's hard to change the way you view yourself, and what you do, after so many years.  I want to believe that I'm a good phenomenal writer who has an amazing story to tell, but wanting to believe it and actually believing it are two different things. 

It's like hot gay men.  I want to believe I can change a gay man who is ridiculously good looking, to be straight, but actually making him swing on the other side of the see-saw is a completely different story. 

Good anal-ogy?  Ha!  Get it?  Gay men.  Anal.  

:::crickets:::

No?  Just me?

getting back in the game

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Dating in a city populated with millions is tough.  You sift through hundreds and hundreds of people before you find one who's worth your time.  And even when you've found someone, signals get mixed up, texts get deciphered incorrectly, words get misconstrued, and your chance at a relationship slips through the cracks.  We spend our lives searching for that one person, our "soul mate," who compliments us.  Movies and television play out the idea of happily ever after and Prince Charming, and we fall victim to believing in all of it.  It's what keeps us going back for more.  After a bad breakup, we jump back into the dating pool because we believe that our soul mate is really out there.  Because we all need to believe in something.

When I moved to this big city, I went out nearly every night, met tons of guys and played the field more than I probably should have.  And then shortly after living here, I was hit with cervical cancer.  If that wasn't a sign, then I don't know what was.  After battling something like cancer, it changes everything - relationships, friendships, sex, life.

After conquering several [personal and relationship] demons over the last five years, I decided to get back into the [dating] game.  I was never against being in a relationship, but I just couldn't find the right guy.  Hairy back.  Bad kisser.  Small package.  You name it, they had it.  I never have any problem getting guys to like me, I just have problems finding the right guy to like.  Am I too picky?  Maybe.  But shouldn't I be?  I've played the field enough now to know what qualities I like (and don't like) and what kind of man I'm looking for.  Don't settle for anything less than what you deserve.

When you've survived something like cervical cancer, which carries a huge stigma and affects a woman's sex drive, reproductive system, and "kibbles and bits," it's tough to find someone who will date you.  As if my life isn't already messed up enough, now I sound like a charity case.  Because any guy who passes the first few dates assumes he's going to find his way into your bed.  And we all know where that leads to.  Except, that's not really where I want it to lead to because I'm afraid of revealing my dark and scary past to him, knowing he's going to run away the instant I open my mouth.  Because the typical response when I tell a man I had cervical cancer is:

::crickets::

And that?  SUCKS.  To actually believe that I'm not worthy enough to date.  That I'm not able to compliment someone or be complimented.  To have a guy show me - through his actions - that I'm not good enough makes me believe that maybe I'll never be good enough because of all of the shit that I've lived through.  But conquering cervical cancer has become a big part of my life now.  So much that I've made advocating for it my career.  It's what I'm living for now.  But I can't get past that fear of rejection.  Because no one likes to be rejected.  When do you open those can of worms?  When do you expose yourself and allow yourself to become vulnerable to a man without fearing he'll turn his back and walk away?

So, there's this guy.  I see him a few nights a week since we play hockey together.  He's got a ripped body (need I say more?) and a good personality.  He's already made a couple Asian jokes at me (which in turn, led me to make a couple Jewish jokes at him), so clearly there's some kind of compatibility there.  It's easy to laugh and make jokes, but we have yet to have those deep, intellectual conversations that he tells me he prefers to have (because really, when is there time to have deep, meaningful, intellectual conversations on the hockey rink?!).  Right now, it's good.  But I fear having that conversation with him, should it ever transpire into anything real, because he could be another one who runs away.  And after a while, you get tired of being the one who's left behind.  You just want to find someone who will stand still with you.

 "I've done the merry-go-round.  I've been through the revolving door.  I feel like I met somebody I can stand still with for a minute and ... don't you wanna stand still with me?"

- Carrie Bradshaw, to Mr. Big -