It got me thinking about the truth.

What is the truth when it comes to a relationship.

Is truth really what someone speaks or does it become what we know? Now that in a nutshell has been my ‘food for thought’ for the last few days.

If in the span of a relationship you hear over and over again how much you mean to someone; how someone would do anything for you; how much someone loves, cherishes and wants to spend the rest of their life with you; how someone has never ever been with anyone as amazing as you…..is it truth because it is spoken or does it become truth once you believe it?

Are people who lie really at fault or are we at fault when we process a lie and choose to believe it?

Cause as of lately I lean towards it being the recipient of such ‘truths’ fault. I’ve always been intrigued by lying as an art form I’ve spoken on this before, and it’s mainly because I’m such a terrible liar. (I guess I just wish I were better at it) I speak what I mean, I probably reveal too much and never reveal anything I’m a 100% sure on.

Should you waste time hating someone for lying to you, or should you just focus on the fact that hating yourself for believing it makes more sense…….

When I’m lied to I often am at fault for believing it. I’m gullible most times to things I should never believe. I’d like to think as I have aged I’ve gotten better at this, and living in NYC has helped too.

So when I’m told something I believe that the other individual truly means what they are saying, and therefore how can you not believe what you are told.

How can anyone not believe the lies that get listed over an over again in a long-term relationship. (that is if they are lies, who really knows)

Because if you believe someone loves you, or cares for you, or gets you, or wants you, or even respects you, is it not mostly your fault when you come to the realization that they never did anything of the things listed above?

Much like a tree falling in the woods, can a lie really be a lie if no one is there to believe it…….?

And I’m telling his “story” the details, you know how girl-friends talk.

I’m not talking very loud, as I tend to be soft spoken, if you can imagine that!

We’re chatting away about “baby boy” and all of a sudden this girl from the table next to me leans over.

SIDEBAR: tables in NY tend to be very close together, and sometimes you feel like you are dinning with strangers.

“Are you talking about “baby boy”?”

“Yes” I say with my mouth, but my eyes were totally saying “nosey bitch”

She gives me this look and says with some terrible white girl attitude, “Good luck with that.”

My friend of course jumps in “what the fuck bitch…first off you’re the one in need of luck that we don’t…”

I of course can only giggle at the situation, as my friend is ripping this chick a new one.

She trails off as the girl and her friend sign their cheque and exit.

I could let this situation run for hours in my head, and I’d probably be lying if I said I didn’t want to know what that lanky bad nose, bad teeth chick was talking about, but more likely I just kind of laugh at the ridiculousness that is life, and more likely women…we are crazy sometimes!

Who does things like that?

I’ll mutter things under my breath, make comments or comebacks that might have always been quick on the draw but sometimes may have been inappropriate.

I’ve many times caught myself on a date saying, “I’m sorry we just meet and I’m already making fun of you” which by the way all were funny comments. (I can be hilarious at times)

When I got my big corporate job this had to change. Which some people found funny, as I had to be professional at an establishment many view as quite the opposite. I had got pretty good not saying things, but needed to started mastering the art of not making sounds. You know those sounds of disbelief that escape your mouth when someone would say something utterly stupid in a meeting.

SIDEBAR: I somewhat mastered this…somewhat.

The facial feature looks of disgust I’m still working on. I’m pretty terrible at making faces.

But when I’m comfortable. Truly at easy and enjoying myself I resort back to my old ways, and have a tendency to say things aloud without thinking. In fact many times I say things aloud that I think I am only thinking in my head.

FACT: this may or may not steam from the fact that I spend many hours working from home alone now, and say things to myself out loud.

Well sometimes accidently saying what I’m thinking gets me into trouble and sometimes it’s down right embarrassing:

Things were hot and heavy, and it’s going really good. I’m totally in the moment. We’re both in the moment…. the missionary moment. And the moment is good.

A thought pops in my head.

He stops.

I open my eyes.

He is staring at me with a puzzled but scared and mixed with a little concern look.

“Are you serious?” He says.

“What?”

“Do you?”

Awkward silence, for a minute as he’s looking down at me and I’m looking up.

With shock on my face, “Did I say that out loud!?”

“Did you think you didn’t!?”

“Oh my god! I thought it in my head!” I begin to laugh from mainly embracement.

He beings to laugh.

“I’m so embarrassed…..I didn’t mean to say that out loud”

I’m hiding my face in a pillow I’m so embarrassed but yet I’m shaking from uncontrollable laughter.

After what feels like 15 minutes of us both laughing a silence falls. He reaches over and hugs me, kisses my head and in his best Plum impression repeats what I had said.

“I think I have to fart?”

When I was growing up I had a friend whose parents had completely separate bathrooms, one right beside the other, both were full baths. It wasn’t one of those this is the ladies big nice bathroom and the man gets something that used to be a hall closet. I never understood that.

But then I think about how I love my bathroom. My bathroom. I can’t help but think of how it could be ruined, and nothing ruins a girl’s bathroom space like a guy. Now girls can be gross and messy, believe me, girls can be down right gross, but there is something different that a guy brings to the game.

5 reasons I don’t want to share a bathroom with a boy!

1.The Toilet Paper!  They will buy it (most of the time it’s the cheap on sale kind), they will even unwrap it and place it someplace, but will almost never replace the roll. Their bathrooms can have multiple started rolls on the toilet but an empty roll in its holder for months. I want my nice plush toilet paper, and I’d like it on the roll holder please and thank-you.

2. My Products! They are my products, my fancy soap, and my $40 facial cleanser, and my bubble bath.  Boy’s will use whatever they can get their dirty little hands on, and if it smells good they will use it. We’re talking face soap all over the body, multiple reapplying of showergel to puff, and this shampoo oh no lets repeat but with this shampoo and then 2 cups of conditioner in their hair. They’ll even use those expensive age deifying makeup remover sheets that sit on the shelf near the toilet to wipe their bums, cause why not. Boys will indulge in my products, and the only good thing about this is shopping for new products.

3. Hair! Now girls shed, believe me they shed! I lose tons of hair in the shower, and when I blow-dry the sink gets full of hairs too. But long girly hair I can somewhat deal with. But those little long dark chest/arm/leg hairs that coat everything from my bathroom to even my bedding make me kind of cringe.  And it only gets worse if you have a guy shave in your sink…hairs for months, people! Little black face hairs that hide in every corner of the bathroom and haunt you for life.

4. Reading material! Some people happen to be the types that keep reading material in the bathroom (for some reason). If you are not one of these people (like me) some how they will appear in your bathroom. If you happen to be the type of person who keeps reading material in their bathroom I’m sure it gets disorganized and moved around. I don’t really read in the bathroom.

5.  Towels! They should be washed in a timely fashion. There are also bathroom hooks, hangers, and rods for a reason, nough said.

A friend of mine was in the city filming a movie. She and I aren’t as close as we used to be, and don’t talk all that often, but we had done dinner one night, and talked about being single (she had just broke up with her boyfriend and I was as always single).

Two days later she called me. She had met this guy who worked in locations on her set. She thought he seemed nice, and he was single, and she was setting us up on a blind date.

Now I’ve never had the best luck on blind dates, they usually make me question my friendships…basically I would sit there looking at some guy wondering how what I thought was a good friend would think anything about this person was “right” for me.

But against my better judgment I agreed to meet this guy for a drink. He and I exchanged a few phone calls, and had our after work drinks planed with the option of seeing how it goes and maybe grabbing dinner. He actually said that which I thought was a huge turn off, but I let it go.

He picked this very posh cocktail lounge in Lower Manhattan, which frankly was alittle to stylish for my liking on a first date. He sent me a text saying he would be about 10 minutes late, I was surprising on time, so I texted back saying no worries I’d wait at the bar. I settled into the bar and ordered my very delicious but completely over priced drink.

Upon his arrival he seemed normal. Tall and in a business suit, dark featured, but nothing really to write home about, just seemingly normal. He smiled, I smiled, and we started into the usual blind date get to know you banter.

And then about 10 or 15 minutes into our seemingly ok date (there was nothing really there but the company was nice and the drinks were delicious) He says the following to me, “ I’m glad you sat at the bar and not at a table” “ Why is that” I asked him. And then he said the following as if it was second nature to him,

“ Cause at least at the bar we only have to deal with the one black bartender.”

I gave him a questionable look, in which he then proceeded to rant about how people of pretty much every race but ‘white’ were terrible serves in restaurant, and how he had no idea this place started hiring so many ‘black’ people since he had last been.

I sat there with what was most likely the blankest of blank stares on my face. My jaw may have actually hit the bar. I see from the corner of my eye, the two bartenders frozen where they were staring at us. I feel embarrassed to be with this guy, and sad for him at the same time.

Are these words really leaving his mouth? Is he really in the middle of this bar going on a rant about how he hates black people? And why am I not wearing my Obama T-shirt when I need it?

As he proceeded to continue on some racist banter about something I interrupted him in the only way I could think of at the moment.

“I think I should just let you know that my Dad is black”.

He looked at me as if a bus had just hit him.

“ But you’re white.”

“ I know. I look white, my brother looks black, that is how it works.”

Silence fell. It felt like every eye within a 4-foot vicinity of us had stopped what they were doing and watching the tale I was telling him unravel.

“So you could have a baby that looks black?” He asked me still looking at my ivory white skin in total shock.

“ Oh yeah of course, I could pop out babies black as night.”

This look of terror came over his face, as what I can only described as this fear that he could have gambled with having sex with me and never would have know what he was sticking his penis in unless I had said something.

“ I’m going to go use the ladies room, and when I’m get back I assume you aren’t going to be here” I said as I got up off my chair and walked to the restrooms.

When I returned he was no longer sitting at the bar, and I assume he used what little braincells he had to tell himself leaving was the best option for him.

I on the other hand was greeted by a round of applause from the bartenders and the two people sitting next to us when I returned to the bar area. He apparently had said the following to the one male (‘white’) bartender before leaving:  “she’s half black” with a confused look on his face.

I sat down and had another drink on the house, and the bartenders also picked up the tab that my date had so gentlemanly left me with, which included his $40 glass of whisky.

FACT: I might just be the whitest kid you know.

SIDEBAR: This was the last blind date I ever went on, or will ever go one for that matter.

I have always lost weight while in relationships, not gained and after thinking on it and even asking others I’m still perplexed at where this idea comes from. Does being in a relationship really make you fat? And if so where is this happening? I’m looking at you Dr.Oz, tell me!

I haven’t posted the post, because well, I might disagree with my statements now, I may have to jump on the bandwagon and say that being in a relationship just MIGHT (might) make you gain weight.

It all depends on who you are dating…

In my unposted post I outline that yes you go out and dine more with a partner but I think you are more conscious of it. You share things like apps and deserts, and you wait to eat with no snacking as to not ruin your appetite, and after your big meal is done your ready for other after dinner activities. Your meals are more planned out. More timely. You and your partner plan to do lunch there for you don’t spend all afternoon eating a sleeve of puddings. You mix it up more, not ordering Chinese then eating the leftovers for 2days and then reordering Chinese. I don’t think a relationship is cool with splitting a muffin and a bag of left over movie popcorn for dinner, but when it’s 10pm and I’ve realized I haven’t eaten yet the muffin/popcorn combo works fine for me.

I’ve dated alot of guys who made comments about my weight, or my appearance. And yet at those times I was like half the size I am now. Maybe I’ve been more aware of it in the past cause the guys I was with made me so. Maybe them telling me I was fat or that I should watch my weight made me more conscious then the average. Made me in a sense not be the norm and actually lose weight while in a relationship.

Also I’ve dated a bunch of vegetarians, strike that I’ve dated way too many vegetarians! Now don’t get me wrong I love a big dinner salad, and get them all the time. And I don’t judge them for not eating chicken (for not eating bacon I do!)

Ok so maybe it’s not the vegetarian thing at all. Maybe it’s that I’ve dated alot of guys who overly care about their appearances and like their women to fit into a pretty little not over a size 8 box. In fact, I think that might be it. In fact, I’m sure of it.

Maybe all along not only have I been dating the wrong guys but my waistline has been too.

So here’s the thing: I love food! I eat. I try new things like I’m just experiencing them, cause alot of times I am. I grew up in a house where I don’t think salt even was/is present. Sugar kids cereal was the luxury, and there are no real restaurants around. When I went to undergrad University I slowly weaned myself back onto gluten and boy is gluten good! And tried things for the first time like chocolate milk!  I started traveling and experienced the pleasure of that. Cause the true test of being an adult is making the choice to only eat gelato for two days when in Rome.

And then I moved to NYC and the foodie in me was unleashed like a razor to Britney’s head. Add on top of that that American portions are bigger then my face, and I’ve falling in love with spice, butter, and meat. And although NY street meat has got nothing on Toronto’s it’s a hell of a city to fall in love with food in. Thus I started to gain alittle, or maybe a lot….

Maybe I just need to fall for the right guy too! Maybe my stomach has been on a hunt. A hunt not only for the perfect hotdog but well for the perfect “hotdog”. A hunt for a guy who introduces me to things called ”Combos” or “Popeye’s Chicken” and even “Pop Tarts”. A guy who makes me nachos for dinner and indulges in the idea that we each get a desert and share them.

A guy who likes me for me and even though I might be at the biggest I’ve ever been in my life by like 20 pounds, holds my hand while we walk for street side tacos at 2am, and tells me I’m beautiful as I have taco grease running down my chin….maybe falling in love with the boy who loves ‘All’ of me is something I can really sink my teeth into.

SIDEBAR: I hate hate hated the book Eat, Pray, Love. Gag me with a spoon!

I started to clean out my address book on my phone.  I began the daunting task of deleting numbers unneeded, adding to those I have further information for, and all the good head scratching that comes from filing through ones address book of 724 contacts.

I have friends, work contacts, old work contacts, restaurants, stores, doctors, old friends, and of course boys.

We all have our own version of the chick-ionary or in my case I guess my dick-ionary.  And we live in an age where such books, such contacts are usually on our phones (and consequently our computers).

And in the digital age t has allowed us to gather more information, or a greater vocabulary to add to our dictionaries.

My girl friends always tell me I’m crazy for keeping number of like ever guy I have ever exchanged numbers with in my phone.  They never understand why I don’t delete them. My response is always that then I know who is contacting me.  The response is always the same “Well I don’t pick up unknown numbers” and the way it is always said is sorta a dig. I’m not sure what type of dig but the tone is always there.

Of course I don’t pick up unknown calls. Who really does?! The real problem is those unknown text messages.  Those really throw me for a loop. I am always to intrigued to answer back.  Thus knowing and having numbers for almost everyone I have encountered in life is important. Or at least I used to think it was…..maybe that has changed, but then again maybe it hasn’t.

SIDEBAR: I always add little notes to every contact I have to help better recognize or establish who they are. These include “works with so and so” “from Texas” “the boyfriend” “reflexology” “so and so’s bitchy girlfriend” “mommy-moo” “my best Pal” and so on….

Regardless I’ve started deleting numbers. These at the moment are mostly composed of random guys numbers, which I’ve decided I don’t need because I frankly don’t care. But for your reading enjoyment I leave you with 7 favorites of mine thus far.

Dan ( the onion ring guy from bar) yuiy8

Hj ehBehn (guys friend food likes 22 years old)

BJ hater dude (two shirt)

Shawn (not sean! old married guy in pj pants at bar) I am drunk

Aussseeettin ( guyi who knows heather)

Mikee (madeout with at 6^th wrad)

Salor Halloween man sexy (matt?)

We all have those embarrassing sex stories, those elbow to the eye, granny panties, fell off the bed, and the hit my head on a head board stories. And if you don’t have one frankly I don’t think you’re doing sex right!

But these are usually personal. One person fell off the bed, one person burped in the others mouth, and so on.

So rather then telling about what I think is an embarrassing sex story that has happened to me, and believe me there are lots! I thought I’d try to think of what awkward, funny, disastrous sex moment I’ve had that would be the other persons most embarrassing….

Some time ago I was having sex (that’s sorta has to be in this story doesn’t it) and it was good, wonderful and every word you can think of to replace “great”.

Basically, we can say I was very much enjoying myself.

He was ontop and therefore I was below him (the classic missionary) and all of a sudden I feel this strange pressure building up in my lady parts. It was odd, different, not like any feeling I’ve felt like before.

I gave him a funny face as he continued with his ‘business’.

“ummm” my face kind of twisted.

“You ok you want me to stop” he stops but still ontop of me.

“Ummm…..No, but….something feels strange.”

“Bad strange or good strange?” he seemed concerned but obviously his blood wasn’t going to his brain at this moment.

“Kind of bad strange, it kind of hurts”

He backs up, and this pressure that had been building stops, kind of rushes out of me in a strange ‘I don’t know this feeling’ kind of way. And then I notice everything is all wet….

I sorta backup, sit up, and look down.

“Did you just?….Baby! I think you peed in me?!” I say as this look of shock and embarrassment comes over him, and he hides his head and rolls over.

And I of course can do nothing but start to laugh….

SIDEBAR: Apparently guys aren’t supposed to be able to urinate while having an erection, however, my Google searches have proved otherwise….and so has this personal experience.

FACT: I guess this means I’ve dabbled in water sports, although I didn’t ask too.

Here’s the thing I have been thinking about how I’ve been told on 3 occasions when I’ve meet a guy I’ve been seeing (involved with or dating) friends.

I’ve been told how great that guy is, how special he is, and how I better, in a sense, watch myself. I’ve been told that I need to understand how special and wonderful said guy is, and how I need to treat him well.

Now I get alittle thrown off because these are always the conversations I see people telling the guy who is dating the girl, at least that’s how it happens in the movies and on TV. It’s almost never people telling the girl to take care of the guy she is dating. Or is it?

Now most of the time when this happens I kind of want to say “Are you kidding me? You just meet me, but let me tell you something I am the real catch in this relationship.” Alas, I jus say, “ I know” and nod my head, or smile sweetly as I get told how great their guy friend is and how lucky I apparently am to be graced with his presence.

Here’s what gets me though. I don’t think I’ve ever had a friend tell any guy I’ve ever brought around that I am a catch, or they need to treat me right. In fact, I pretty much am positive no friend has ever let a guy know that I am worthy of being treated well.

Maybe my friends assume that by the time I get around to introducing guys to them that I’ve already vented the bad ones out. Maybe they trust my judgment and what I’m doing.

But then again knowing my past judgment in relationships or men you would think my friends would let boys know that they should treat me well.

So question is do my friends just trust me that much? I find that hard to believe. Maybe no one really cares in a sense. They just assume I’ll pull myself back up at the end of the day, like I always do so why waste their time telling a guy I’m dating to treat me right and realize I’m special….but I think I’m worth that, just alittle bit, maybe.

Let’s face it we all find ourselves in situations with the opposite sex (and same sex) that are less than ideal.  The retched being picked up or should I say attempt at being picked up is always a circumstance I dread.  However, after years of practice I’ve found some interesting and straight up nasty ways of getting that man who has attached himself to me to leave.

SIDEBAR:  Those who know me are always shocked when I pull these out of the bag of tricks, because I’m always the nice one who will politely talk to the creepy boy and make a nice and descent exit, however, sometimes you can’t hold back.

6 Excuses I have used to get out of talking to a guy (or ways to get him to leave you alone!)

1.  When he asks you what kind of drink you want and insists he buys you one even after you’ve made it clear you don’t want one you come up with a disgusting drink concoction. This concoction should include two types of alcohol and orange soda if possible.  My personal favorite is Jamison, Greygoose, orange soda, and bitters.  When he asks if it’s good you say: “ No, but it gets me angry drunk, and that’s what I’m going for tonight!

2. Put a ring on it!  Yes girls do take rings off their other fingers turn them around and make them look like wedding rings so they can tell guys they are married. However, this doesn’t always work, but when you tell him you are married, make sure you say it’s to a woman.  Guys are fascinated by lesbians, but for some reason they get turned off by married lesbians.

3. Pretend you are deaf.  This only works when you are alone, and not sitting with headphones on.  I have on more than one occasion pretended I couldn’t hear on the subway when some creepy man has started to talk to me. I also do a great ‘deaf speak’ of “ I can’t hear” with the sign language followed by a smile and a look away.  This should not be confused with not speaking English. Guys get turned on by the idea of you not speaking English, but no one wants to be the creep hitting on the deaf girl.

4.  When at a bar ask the guy if he came with any female friends. When he asks why, or says yes. Ask if he thinks they might have a tampon cause you’re bleeding through them like crazy. They run faster than Moses parted the red sea.

5.  Start to dry heave and excuse yourself. Only at a small house party gathering will you maybe encounter the guy who will follow you and want to hold your hair, otherwise they’re done with you. Starting to pick your nose also works very well, as long as you get right up in there.

6. When they ask for your number say it’s better if they give you theirs because you wont be availed for a while. Tell them your doctors says you shouldn’t be having sex until 5 days after this cycle of medication you’re on is finished.