Tag Archives: single problems

Why Bitches Be Crazy

We’ve all heard or used the saying “bitches be crazy” and it’s true. Females can be extremely “crazy”. Now, now before you flip out and tell me I’m a bitch for saying females get crazy (which would be a ‘crazy bitch’ thing to do, btw), lets think about this rationally. I will use myself as an example. I have a good family. I have good friends. I have a University degree. I have a happening social life. I’m fortunate enough to be decent looking. I have a good job. I have hobbies. I have a uterus. Therefore, I am crazy and can be a bitch. I don’t know why. I just am.

Merriam-Webster defines crazy as “full of cracks or flaws; crooked, askew, mad, insane; being out of the ordinary; erratic, impractical; unusual; distracted with desire or excitement; infatuated; absurdly fond” and bitch is described as “the female of the dog or some other mammals; a lewd or immoral woman; a malicious, spiteful, or overbearing woman —sometimes used as a generalized term of abuse; something that is extremely difficult, objectionable, or unpleasant”.

Combining any of those terms together is slightly terrifying and doesn’t really encompass what a “crazy bitch” is. So in an attempt for an accurate discription of a “crazy bitch” you can log onto urbandictionary.com and read away. I will make it easy, here’s the link: http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=crazy%20bitch

Now that the technical shit is out of the way, lets examine some situations in my life where I was a crazy bitch. Hold on tight for this wild ride people.

A) I once made a fake email address and emailed a bitch my boyfriend slept with, when we were on a ‘break’ (watch Friends and you’ll get it) and pretended to have had met her at a party just to try to get more info on this chick. I did this because I found naked pictures of her on his phone and didn’t believe that they weren’t in contact anymore. I was right. He asked me if I had done this because said stupid hoe chick got a weird email. I played dumb, obviously, and freaked out like a crazy bitch on him for lying to me.

B) I often creep my ex’s ex’s to see what they look like/talk like/do with their spare time. I mean creeeeeep, hard. No necessary reason for this. I don’t tell anyone I do this. I just do it. That’s crazy and stupid and probably severely damaging. I like to see if my ex’s refriend/follow them. Why? I don’t know. I am not crazy enough to do anything about it, except maybe text my ex after a few too many redneck margaritas.

C) I went through a guys phone when he was passed out because I didn’t believe that he wasn’t talking to other girls. He was and it wasn’t platonic. I took the high road and didn’t confront him, as we hadnt had the ‘exclusive’ talk. A week later he then went through my phone and was mad that I had dudes in my phone and asked me to not see anyone else. Shortly after this, he proceeded to sleep with a rando. Is your mind blown by the fuckery of the situation yet? Just wait. How did I find out he slept with said girl? Oh, yes, I saw the text convo he left open on his phone, as he handed it to me, saying he felt like a hooker because she kicked him out. I freaked out like a crazy bitch.

D) I got a late night text from an ex and went there, drunk, and started a ‘serious’ conversation asking him questions that had been on my mind and when I felt he was being shady about the answers lost it and got myself kicked out. Turns out he was lying (a big one) and I found out via creeping and confronted him, like a crazy bitch.

Do we see any patterns here people? Bitches be crazy because dudes be lying fools. If a girl asks you a question, there’s a very good chance she knows the answer or her ‘woman’s intuition’ has kicked in and she’s grasping at straws to justify your behavior. Also, all you men say you hate crazy bitches but why then do you hit me up more when I go straight certifiable on your ass but ignore me when I’m a sweetheart? Riddle me that fellas.

Moral of the post is to continue being your crazy bitch self,  in private. In public smile and nod and then take a crowbar to his shit.

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Reason’s to Date Me

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Things I wish I could tell people about myself IMMEDIATELY when meeting them (in no particular order):

1) I’m a really good back scratcher
2) I’m sarcastic and bitchy and admit when I’m being crazy (I’m also a nice person…)
3) I smell good ALL the time
4) I am a good fake (and real) listener
5) I am better at beer pong when I’m drunk
6) I encourage out of town weekends for you and the boys (no hookers though)
7) I’ll probably be cute until I’m dead
8) I have lots of hobbies and friends, so I don’t need to be constantly entertained
9) I fuckin love cuddling
10) I can quote most funny movies (Anchorman anyone?)
11) I will do sweet things for you, just because
12) Your parents will love me, as will your friends (and they may opt to keep me instead of you should we ever part ways)
13) I laugh at my own jokes, even when other people don’t
14) I can cook and eat (like a boss)
15) I will never do anything to intentionally hurt you, the thought hurts my heart
16) I like dogs and kids
17) I like you to make the decisions
18) If you don’t work out as much as or more than me, we will have a problem
19) I have no hidden talents
20) If I like you, nothing will change that. Nothing, no one, no situation… unless you poop in a weird place, are mean to old people or animals, get violent or twitchy… you get the idea.

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Friday Night Fun

Fast forward to the present day and you will find me, still fabulous, still funny, and still soul wrenchingly single. The single life is great, I won’t mess with you. Doing whatever I want, whenever I want is pretty amazing. Except for when what I really want to do is lay on the couch with a man who is in lottle with me, start a new season of some crap show (I hear Orange is the New Black is pretty decent), and have my hair played with. Those are the kinds of things that you don’t get to do when you’re single. (I just pictured myself wrapped up with one of those ‘boyfriend’ pillows watching tv while playing with my own hair. Please laugh with me, not at me. Should I ever sink to this level, I will cry and someone slap me, please).

I know today’s date shows up on these posts, but just because I feel I need to be dramatic… It’s a foggy Friday night, in the middle of October. Did I go out dancing with the girls? Nope. Did I carve pumpkins with a boy and watch scary movies? HA! Did I take in comedy night at Hecklers? Nein. Did I volunteer at the SPCA and play with puppies all night? I wish! Did I drink wine and read a good book while listening to jazz music? Not even close. I ate an entire small Veggie Mediterranean pizza with two dippers to myself. While watching Law & Order: SVU. #winning. None of those three things separately bother me. Friday, awesome; Pizza, super awesome; and if you don’t like Law & Order: SVU you’re lying to yourself. But combined, they make me feel like I should rescue a cat or seven.

I’m not lonely, and rarely am I ‘alone’. I don’t get much down time, working seventy-ish hours a week, so when I do and end up watching tv (on a laptop because I don’t have cable), in flamingo print pajamas, eating 3.2 pounds of pizza (I weighed myself before and after) for six hours, a girl starts to wonder about herself.

All of us poor single folk get the “single funk” every now and again. Don’t pretend you don’t know what this is. For anyone who is lying to themselves or who has been in a relationship too long to remember: this is when we hate being single and curse the opposite sex, ourselves, our parents, our city, the weatherman, that dog that didn’t lick your hand because he clearly smelled your desperation, or basically anyone or anything that is in our way. I, thankfully, haven’t had a moment like this in a while. I hope I’m not due. They never go well and I definitely always write an ex or two. Yay me! (That was sarcasm).

Tonight is not the night for me to have a single person funk. I love life. I love that I get to go to bed and fall asleep in the middle of my bed; I love that I ate an entire pizza and didn’t have to share; I love that I don’t have to worry what my breath will smell like in the morning; I love that should I have an insomnia attack in a few hours, I don’t have to worry about waking anyone up with the lights on; I love that tomorrow, when I finally wake up (on my own schedule), I get to do whatever the eff bomb I want to (until my PT appointment at noon, then that meathead gets to boss me around). I think the important thing is that I love MY life… I just hate dating.

Lesson’s learned tonight: Munch retired , you will gain over three pounds from eating an entire small pizza, my pajamas are too big (in spite of said pizza eating), I can go an entire Friday without wearing a bra or drinking alcohol, there is such a thing as the ‘boyfriend’ pillow (see below), and it is completely possible to be in bed before midnight on a Friday.

 

The-boyfriend-pillow

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This is the story of: Shows Up Everywhere

When I lived in Vancouver I was on Plenty of Fish for about seven minutes, long enough for me to get tens of tens of messages and reply back and forth with ONE person a few times, before deactivating my account and cringing at the fact that I had stooped this low.

Please, let’s all remember that I am still “stooping” to this level and yes, I don’t make a mistake once or twice, I like to make it six or seven times, just to be sure. **SIDE BAR: this will become quite evident when we get to the story of Navy Guy** After not going on a single date for my first stint on POF, I moved on and tried to meet people the old fashioned way, through friends.

This is the story of: Shows Up Everywhere

Once I decided I’d had enough of POF (yes, seven minutes in), I decided I would try to reconnect with old friends that I hadn’t seen in awhile. We all know everyone has a token single friend (trust me, I AM that person) and I was certain a few of my friend’s token single friends, probably had single friends too. Yay for my logic. I imagined myself meeting tons of beautiful, kind men and playing ‘eeny, meeny, miny, mo’ to pick my favorite. That didn’t happen. Obviously, it is me after all.

A friend of mine (a male friend, bonus! Since dudes always know tons of dudes that don’t want to sleep with them, unlike female friends, who the hot and/or nice ones always want to sleep with) asked me to meet up for a drink, he was meeting up with some people from school and I was hella in for this potential jackpot of a scenario. We went and met at Earls in Yaletown and as we’re chatting and laughing and I’m making all the right moves aimed at the exactly one decent man in the crowd, in walks a familiar face. Why is he familiar? I don’t know yet.

Approximately fourteen minutes later, after racking my brain for why I would know this blonde haired (and attractive) man, it hits me in the face like a bad smell. It’s Shows Up Everywhere! He is the ONE person I talked to on POF in Vancouver and I disappeared on him, only to run into him less than a week later. As introductions are made, I’m thinking, “holy shit, holy fuck, this is weird” but nope, Shows Up Everywhere doesn’t even blink an eye, he takes it in stride. We chat most of the night and he eventually asks for my number. All the while I’m thinking “man, he sure is playing this up for his friends, he must not want people to know how we met”. (Obviously I had already spilled the beans to my buddy, and texted my roommate because, it’s funny and absolutely my luck and I like to share my misfortunes with others).

After the dinner, Shows Up Everywhere adds me to facebook (we all know and love facebook, don’t we?! Especially for the stalking capabilities). We chat on there, text a bit and then I kind of lose interest, because, well, he’s as boring as watching hay blow in the wind. But this is not the end of Shows Up Everywhere. No siree, I proceed to run into him on a monthly basis for six months. At a night club, at a park, at a beach, in a store, anywhere really and ALL over town. Not just in one part of the city, all the parts. I swear I saw him on the ferry once.

Shows Up Everywhere was the start of my interesting dating life in Vancouver. He opened the door for all my other Vancouver dating experiences, and they only got better from there. (Oh, by better I mean worse and more funny).

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