Worst Pick Up Lines Ever Used on Me–True Story

cheesy-pickup-lines-14Dating BLOWS.  It is the bane of my existence..almost to the point where I wish I could get in on some sort of arranged marriage thing just to avoid having to weed out all the douche faces in New York.  However, sometimes you boys do the work for me…and I write about it.

Behold!  The worst pick up lines/first impressions ever used on me.

  1. “I see you aren’t drinking…what medications are you on?”

2.  “I just moved here.  Notice the accent?  Fancy a F*ck?”

3.  “Hey, I’m Dave’s roommate.  I am going to go lay in my bed. Feel free to join me.”

4.  (Online) “So I see you have Rheumatoid Arthritis.  Not sure what that is and too lazy (lol) to google it.  Can you just give me a summary or something”

5.  “Sorry we never spoke before. I thought you were a lesbian.”

6.  “Are you into cuckolding?”

7.  “I’m planning a gang bang this weekend and you look decent enough…”

8.  “I need green card”

9.  “This may sound unusual, but I’m looking for someone to take a **** on my chest.”

I will end this post on that note.  Boys, you are pretty disgusting and should bury your heads in shame.  I am a classy b*tch and deserve to be treated as such–at least bring me flowers first.

Refresh Your Goals and Often

C.S. Lewis provides some sage wisdom in his quote, “You are never too old to set another goal or to dream a new dream”.   In school I had one of the top GPAs in my class..one would think I’d have my life plan figured out by now…however, that’s not at what happened…so I had to form goals, new dreams.

Kids today expect things to arrive on an overpriced silver platter by an overpayed French chef…and they are too young to be scolded for behaving like miniature entitled narcissists.  But they are children and have no idea about who they will be, what obstacles they will face, and if their dream jobs will even be viable in five years.

I believe everyone needs to reassess their dreams/goals every year or two.  It is a great way to see if and how you are steering away from what you considered important only a short time ago.  It gives you the chance to change your game plan before you are too invested/attached to the path you have been led down–examples: is your 9 to 5 job miserable?  Is that Mustang Convertible really worth the debt you will incurr?  Is raising a family more important than a career.

If your job is depressing, make a list of ideal jobs and record the prerequisits for each of those jobs.  Search your state’s median salaries for each of those jobs and seriously consider if a change in career is worth the work.

Bottom Line: you deserve a more than satisfactory life. Chase your dreams

Online Dating: How Soon is Too Soon?

love-online-dating It has now been over a month since I last saw or spoke with my ex and, although I am visiting my parents in Alabama, I have decided it is time to reacquaint myself with the dating world–specifically online dating.

Dating is the bane of my existence.  I can think of very few things I despise more than “get to know you” questions, nervous laugher, dreaded awkward pauses…  First dates always feel like you are on trial with a jury of one.  The best part about online dating is that you get all the nonsense out-of-the-way before you even agree to meet your potential soul mate/first husband/baby daddy/fling and head straight to the second date chemistry assessment.  The worst part is, the person you meet may not be the dude you spent hours conversing with.

So, when it comes to online dating, how personal should your profile be?  When is it appropriate to divulge personal details regarding health, family, and financial issues?  Should your profile include a disclaimer to weed out possible matches that will ultimately consider the unmentioned a deal breaker?  Exactly how much “about me” do I include in the essay “About Me”?  Here is my take:online-dating-problems

  1. Do not lie about your height, body type, age, or occupation. Guys, adding two inches to your height and listing your occupation as “Law: an ordinary hero keeping our streets safe” when you operate the metal detector at a middle school and moonlight as a bouncer is more than a little misleading.  And 20 y/o photos look completely different than week-old selfies from an Iphone.
  2. Be honest regarding the reason you are on the site:  If you are looking for a short fling without commitment, state that in your profile or a girl looking for something serious will unleash her wrath…it isn’t likely she will suddenly change her mind to suit your whim of casual sex.
  3. Make a decision before you meet regarding how/when to disclose the BIG stuff:  Everyone’s idea of “BIG stuff” varies, but I choose to give notice at the bottom of my profile that I have Rheumatoid Arthritis and that the disease does cause certain limitations at times.  I have heard stories from men and women about being quizzed about their sexual history.  Sex questions are never appropriate whether or not you met online if you are on your first physical date…so I would put that on the back burner for awhile…a long while.
  4. Do not connect on social media before you are in a committed relationship:  You still do not know this person and social media is a brilliant (and terrifying) tool that can be used to the advantage of stalkers or anyone who wants to know when your home will be empty.  It can also be a source of great hostility if either of you goes out with friends and your new romantic interest only learns about it on Facebook and Instagram.

Online-Dating-to-Offline-DatingIn the end, one has to draw from past non-cyber dating experiences as well as his or her own gut instinct as to what is and is not an appropriate topic of discussion in the beginning of a relationship–whether that be over drinks at a wine bar, text chatting at 2AM, or on your dating profile.  Analyze your date’s vocal and silent reactions to smaller matters first to gauge the potential for conflict over the main issue. Or make the bottom of your profile a giant “CAUTION” sign and weed out the pussies you would have kicked to the curb after the obligatory thirty-minute drink, anyway.

Despite this past month, I finally believe I will love again.

(special thanks to my pals RJ, Peter, Rob, Alicia & Corbin, etc.)

The Truth of Being a Wallflower

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I am the definitive wallflower.

I was the girl who ate lunch alone in the 6th grade because I was invisible to the girls I previously sat with…and I would rather be alone than not seen or heard.  Afraid of imposing on other social groups as well, distance and walls became my safety zones…my retreats.  It is funny, though–when someone with preconceptions about who I am actually gets to know me, it is always a surprise at how mistaken they were.

Common misconceptions about wallflowers:

  1. we have nothing to say: this belief could not be further from the truth.  Everyone has feelings, opinions, and ideas…some people just don’t talk about them.  I believe wallflowers actually have more to say because our brains contain a warehouse of unspoken thoughts waiting to be shared with just the right person…or blog.
  2. we are clueless about what’s going on around us:  you want to know the latest gossip?…find a wallflower. Being the most attentive observers of human behavior (and the best listeners), we know what’s what: we know your names, your friends, and your scandals.
  3. we have no social life: usually untrue…and we don’t just hang out with other no-names.  We just don’t socialize with the in-crowds…or at least not when they are with each other.  I’ve had friends in many social circles my entire life but only socialize with them one-on-one because I cannot stand their friends…which brings me to…
  4. sometimes, we don’t want to hang out with you:  everyone wants to fit in, but only when the people they associate with are supportive and worth the effort.

That said, more often than not, I have simply been anxious when attempting to infiltrate a group.  Often one feels less alone on the sidelines than amongst a group of friends who don’t seem to notice your presence.

Visiting my very outgoing family this weekend has been a reminder of social issues stemming from childhood…trying to add to a conversation and being talked over as if my voice is but a whisper, my thoughts are unworthy of a response, and my opinions bear no weight.  Most of the time I retreat to my bedroom to read or write and my absence goes unnoticed.  My family’s lack of recognition is not deliberate and bears no malice…but it is a reminder of why I am more a bystander than participant in my own life.

LESSON: Be kind to the inconspicuous wallflower.  Get to know us!  We have a lot more to say than you’d think.

A Kaitlin Fairytale…Almost Like Cinderella…

never bored with an aussie

never bored with an aussie

A year ago when my then-boyfriend suggested I see other people (that was not an option for him), I went on several dates with an environmental scientist working at The New York Times and, occasionally, as a global warming specialist and advisor for the United Nations…obviously, he knew brilliance when he saw it,

We spent the night drinking rum punch at my (now) favorite “speakeasy”, bar hopping, and wound up at his neighbor’s party. I mentioned the restaurant/cafe I had performed at the night before and he excitedly told me the place was visible on the roof.  I wanted to see it, but it was raining.  Being an environmentalist, my date knew just what to do…head one door over to his place to grab an umbrella–genius!  Heading out the door, umbrella in tow, I fought through my drunken brain-cloud, remembering to leave my leather purse and beloved Michael Kors shoes safely in the apartment.  My date, being an adorable genius, put the umbrella down as I fumbled with my belongings.

It was a cool summer night, the view was amazing, and the music from a nearby East Village venue created a scene from a romantic comedy.  We danced alone on a New York City rooftop, barefoot…in the rain.  That was the romance…the comedy was to follow.

The alcohol caught up with me and it was time to go home.  We headed back to his apartment and

sweet victory. michael kors flats and i reunite

sweet victory. michael kors flats and i reunite

found everything…except my shoes.  I lost my shoes on a first date. When the booze caught up with him…we gave up and he literally placed me inside the cab.  I thought I would never hear from him again…my shoes were lost in that giant apartment somewhere..forever.  Luckily, my date happens to be Australian.

Australian men are an entirely different species.  They totally LOVE the crazy…and my brand of crazy didn’t faze him at all…not even close. My short fling with this person lasted five dates before he went home to visit family for a few months and we lost touch.  But before he left, I did a thorough sweep of his place

i gave the tie back :(

i gave the tie back 😦

and found my shoes under the couch I had left my purse on that first night.  He admitted he never looked for them…he wanted to see me again.

Then he taught me how to knot a tie (I forgot 5 minutes later).

An Apology Monkey: Who He Really Is

Looking back at past blogs, I am completely horrified about vilifying the man I still love more than…everything…to this degree.  I realize now that I am coming down from a hormonal wave of epic proportions never before witnessed by anyone…ever.  Yes, he was a total ass and said and did some vile sh*t, but my campaign of fury went way too far.  It was a private matter, and if I was in therapy or something, my blog would be way less personal…but I’m a writer and my years of silence have resulted in verbal diarrhea.  So, to this man, my love monkey, I am sorry.  Hormones leveling out has me seeing a little clearer (although will taper another three weeks), and we were both in the wrong…but I took it too far.

So, I think after telling you about this one saga (for a week!), he deserves for everyone to know why he is 95% wonderful.

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summer cheer-up flowers

On our second or third date, my jaw dropped when DJ gave me a Tiffany’s necklace at dinner for no reason.  Two months later, for my birthday, he gave me a matching bracelet he had purchased a month after we started dating.  I wear them when I miss him…which is every day.  It seems he saw where our relationship was headed and I was too dizzy and tongue-tied.  Once, when I told him about a fight I’d had with a friend, he just knew I needed to see him and brought me a dozen roses and a card and took me to his favorite Brazilian restaurant.  I had no makeup on and my hair was messy and he said I looked even prettier that way.  He brought flowers for both my mother and myself at that same restaurant when she was in town a month ago.

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Madhatter Pub Clown

He planned the most amazing dates…based on my interests because he was always up for anything.  We learned how to make gin martinis and manhattans (got tipsy during class and went to our bar after), made cupcakes at Butterlane Cupcakes’ Couples Night and distributed the leftovers to the local bartenders on the block, and went to a couple’s pottery class (I slept through the class the first time and he waited forty-five minutes before coming to my apartment…we went to our favorite bar for fish and chips, gin &tonics, and terrifying clown decorations).  We retook the class and had a blast.  Recently,we signed up for a gelato making class but I don’t know if we will ever make it to that one.

When I was doing chemo for my Rheumatoid Arthritis, he held my hair back when I threw up.  He donated so much money to the Arthritis Foundation for the Jingle Bell 5K that we had the top team for nearly two months.  He was always so supportive of my limitations and the side-effects of my treatment and a champion for what I could do.  More supportive than anyone in my life other than my mother.  Comforting another person just came natural to him.

DJ is the most dedicated father I have ever met.  He moved twice in just a couple months for his children…the first time so they would be closer to their mother (making his commute an hour and a half) and the second time because his nine-year-old was being bullied and wanted to go back to his old school.  Now he travels with his kids back and forth…a three hour round trip every weekend.  He supports their interests and quirks.  He lives for and dotes on them.

Monkey has the best, most mischievous smile ever…it is infectious.  It immediately stops tears.  He will also (usually) stay on the phone with you when you cry, even if your sobbing muffles every word you are saying.

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sleeping troll

UBER CARS.  Whenever I was tired he would send an uber to pick me up.  I once was in desperate need of a nap because my apartment building was undergoing loud construction so he sent me an uber and let me nap at his place while he worked from home that day.  He took a picture to commemorate it…kinda sweet…and creepy…lol

He was the first one to say “I love you.”  He said it after three months.

DJ is so much fun.  He just is–nonstop laughter and always creating new inside jokes.   He is my favorite drinking buddy ever. He makes the best gin & tonics.  He always let me play ski ball at Mona’s Bar.  And he found my weird quirks adorable.

I was sick last April and he had 5 bags of arthritis-friendly produce to juice and three bottles of Diet Coke delivered.  He knew I missed watching TV on an actual TV after I no longer had cable and bought me a cord to hook up my mac…and gave me access to his fios account so I could watch my shows.  He saw a “knit your own dachshund” kit and bought it for me because it reminded him of my dog Delilah.  He also bought me a giant dachshund eraser for the same reason.  He sent me a selfie stick he bought as a surprise gag gift on amazon because I was always trying to get a good, non-double chin picture of us…it turns out, I cannot work a selfie stick.  He sent me a shirt to remind me that even with RA, I am Superwoman.  He loved watching my face when he surprised me with random things…but it wasn’t the gifts that made me happy–it was knowing I was always on his mind.  I look at that stupid giant dachshund eraser and just see love…he lives on my bookshelf.

DJ actually thought my feet were cute.  I have broken every one of my toes at least once …one is turned sideways on the top joint and I don’t have nails on the pinky toes…and he sincerely thought they were cute.

He waited 7 1/2 years after his divorce to introduce his children to a girlfriend.  We went to Dave & Busters for A, painted pottery (my idea) for S, and participated in the Walk to Cure Arthritis for me.

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attempting the selfie stick

Now that the anger is gone (the hormones are nearly gone), I will let that one tragic episode go…because there have been so many more happy times than sad.  And he deserves to be known and remembered for that…a more accurate portrait of the man that swept me off my feet from day one.  I never told him I fell in love with him about five minutes into our first date…it terrified me that someone I hardly knew felt like home.  It took breaking up and getting back together last March to admit it. My only sad tears now are regret.  

Why I Miss Him

d2b430bc45fe43e2f94a2584117100ffDespite my anger with the man I was with and his lack of support during my recent health issues, I still miss him like whoa–it is almost hard to breathe.  During the course of our relationship, he was my world.  He became my very best friend…basically, my only close friend.

As much as he teased me our relationship was 95% positive and we had the connection I had always hoped to have with someone.  From our very first date, we had chemistry…drinking gin and tonics and Guinness.  I loved how easily the conversation flowed between us.  Talking with him was effortless, which had happened only one other time in my life.

I miss meeting him for lunch in the middle of the day, bonding over “Archer”, taking the tram from Roosevelt Island to brunch, cooking together, impressing him with my domestic goddess skills, taking a nap in the middle of the day when he worked from home, Facetime, sleeping on his shoulder during movies, him being almost as clumsy as me, kicking him when he was snoring too loud and pretending it was restless leg syndrom…I miss planning our future.  I miss happy tears.

He avoids all confrontation and difficult subjects…which is likely his excuse for ignoring what has been happening the last few weeks and telling me I don’t get to dmake decisions…for never addressing the unspeakable.  His lack of concern is the only thing more painful than the miscarriage, itself…calling me “a nuisance” when I needed to speak to him because I was terrified.

My mother sent me a quote: “The hardest thing in the world is trying to fix a heart you didn’t break.”  He broke mine…and I’m not sure even he could fix it.  Every person has to mend his or her own chainsaw-attacked heart and near-demolished soul.  And eyes must be open.

And I still love him.  I miss him.  I miss the delusional perfection of our dreams.

Most of all, I miss believing in Us.

Why I Self-Sabotage: A Tragedy and Lesson In 544 Words

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All of my little, shining, happy moments have been just that…fleeting and short natured.  I blamed the universe for them and have always asked myself, “What am I supposed to be learning?  What is the universe trying to teach me that isn’t getting through?”  I am still not entirely certain about the answer, but I am gradually coming to an understanding as to what I have been doing wrong and why.

I self-sabotage all happiness because pain has become my identity.  Without this lifelong, all-encompassing sadness, who am I?  Happiness–even contentment–makes me uncomfortable, as if I am losing myself with every smile, laugh, or tender moment.  Every blissful minute takes me further away from the only identity I have known.  The idea of changing the core of my being is terrifying.

I cannot pinpoint when my identity was hijacked by a feeling of pain and lack of self-worth…I do remember crying in my bedroom alone during my fourth birthday because I could not articulate how overwhelming the entire day was–the presents, my friends, their parents….  Home videos depict a sad, curly-haired child in a party dress, tugging at her mother’s shirt as her friends played outside; frowning with downcast eyes and unresponsive to questions as she allowed her sister to open all of her presents.  It was just all too much to handle: despite having been best friends with these kids who lived on my street since birth, I needed to be alone –in desperate need to decompress.  Everyone ate hot dogs and played in the yard, and I took to the dark bedroom I shared with Irish twin sister until my mother came to fetch me.

On another occasion (maybe I was five?) I sat in the formal living room, completely silent, as my IMG_6948parents and siblings frantically looked for me, calling out my name, desperate in their search.  No one ever spent time in the formal living room other than myself–it was a sanctuary where I would sob for hours when my parents left us with a sitter.  They found me, of course, and never questioned why I had not responded to the hysteria my disappearance had caused–I only whimpered, nearly catatonic.

It was only when I became an actress and attended Stella Adler Studio of Acting in NY that teachers were cognizant of the pain masqued behind my smile.  During one class, a teacher mentioned he saw “a soul of great depth and sadness” and to “stop hiding it.”

This article is inspired by my two greatest losses thus far.  For the first time in my life, I was genuinely, blissfully happy every single day, but he just could not understand that, at times, I am touched with fire–the passion of an artist.  I forget who I am or was…the persona of grief: someone I should be eagerly willing to shed, yet am not quite ready to abandon. I will always have a very hard time finding peace. It will always be my struggle…I only pray that one day I will be able to accept the love I am offered as easily as I am able to offer it; that the opinion I have of myself will change; that joy won’t approach me as if an unfamiliar stranger.