The Dating Game

When I was younger, my expectations for my future husband were simple. His last name had to come before mine in the alphabet because I hated being called last at school. And he had to be smart. Now I have a list that sometimes feels too long, but I guess really isn't too long when it comes to picking Mister Right. I mean you have to have standards don’t you? I have standards, but for some reason they aren't being met. And let me tell you I have dated my fair share of guys. Or men. Or boys. Or male human species.

I have dated guys who look good on paper as I like to call it. They have a good job, good credit, Nice smile, likes to buy me things and take me places because he says I’m pretty…you get it. But what was wrong with them? The last one who looked good on paper didn't look that good in person to me. Am I shallow? Shouldn't I want to wake up next to him and give him a kiss in the morning? Not that nice guy.

I've dated thugs. Oh yes. I actually like them a little rough, or “jagged” around the edges as one guy told me. What’s the attraction there? We sure won’t be living my fantasy life where I own a $6,000 yellow leather couch from Anthropologie if because of his shaky past, his potential for the big bucks is dwindled.

And I've dated short. Nothing against all of my fabulous shorter than average height men out there, but you can’t fault a girl for wishing a Dwight Howard sized chocolate man spots her at the grocery store and the rest is history. And a Dwight Howard wallet to match wouldn't be so bad either. I mean I’m content with my current pay check to pay check living, but I wouldn't be mad at the presentation of marrying into more funds. I’m just being honest.

Then there were the Christian men. I’m an imperfect Christian woman. And this is not a knock to Christian men, or Christian people for that matter. But let me tell you. There was not enough Jesus in those”Christian” romances, and so at some point I had to cut those loose. I mean the person you date is supposed to make you better right? So what was the point of us both being in the wrong? I can do bad all by myself as the saying goes…

But I digress. Because of all these experiences, I now have “The List”. I’m sure there is some man supremely hating on the list because some woman with horrible experiences whipped out her scroll of new found standards to prevent further heartbreak. And I get it. I get her. I am her to some degree. And I get him too. Who wants to be held to some list because of past hurts caused by one jerk? Or a lot of jerks. Or maybe they weren’t jerks, but they left a sour taste in her mouth. It doesn't matter now, she (I) have a list.

So Now I’m the list chick. I look at it. And then I look at who I date. Only about 50% of them meet most of the requirements. I mean smoking is not so bad as long as he does it outside right? And I can get over a felony if he has given his life to Christ right? At this point, I have decided that my heart and brain know nothing. They have both led me astray. The brain led me to continue dating the nice guy because he was that; nice. But my heart couldn’t handle it. And right now, my heart is smitten with someone who would automatically be eliminated because he can’t pass the list test. Not even close. So what should I do? What do I do? Whelp, what I am doing is going for the ride. I know, that sounds ridiculous. But I mean I am having a great time. I just make sure not to do things that led to Vegas weddings and babies. That I am NOT ready for. At least not like that. But I have decided, Mister Right, who looks good on paper and in person is out there wondering where I am. Okay maybe not. But the point is he hasn't met me yet. And that’s okay. I can date, and meet crazy blind men who want to take me out, and just enjoy the laughs. And I still have my list. Not so I can check it off, but more like a guide or reference to make sure my priorities are straight. This is how I have found peace with dating.

Oh, so at this point, I am not sure if I should give advice or something. That’s what a lot of people do when they talk about dating. My advice: Let a few of the crazy one’s through to the next round. They give you the best stories.

Xoxo,

Lasondra

P.S. Every reference to a man and dating situation is based on my REAL experiences. There is a real thug with a felony, and there was a real blind man. Why lie?

My boyfriend named Grad School

So the last 3  and 1/2 years I have been in a relationship with Graduate School. I like to call him Grad School for short. Just like any relationship, he was handsome at first and won me over. He resided on this beautiful campus called Saint Mary's College of California, and as soon as he accepted me, I moved to be with him. The first few months were blissful but a little rocky, as I adjusted to a new environment and the pressures of a new relationship. I didn't have too many friends here in the bay area, and I really missed my family and friends in LA. But I was committed to him. So I thought. As the months went on, things got harder. I had to spend a lot of time reading and researching because he always wanted me to be up on the latest and greatest. I got a job so I could have extra money outside of "financial aid" to support our habits- buying books, gas money to see him, and money for extra meals when  I spent long nights out with him.

Then things started to go sour. Not so much with him, but in my life. I suddenly needed a new place to live. But Grad School couldn't help me. He was sorry and we took a break, about the length of a semester so I could get back on my feet. Next, I was in a car accident; nothing severe, but it made going to see him a complete pain. He was sorry then too, but he sure wasn't as accommodating as I wish he would have been. And of course there were other smaller things that happened to make me feel bitter sweet towards Grad School.

But I realized that I love him, I really do. It's the experience that he brings. I get to learn new things and meet new people. He allowed me experiences so I could learn about myself- and I think I have learned more about myself than about any topic he wanted me to read in a book. And yet he gets on my last nerve. This has been the most taxing almost 4 years ever. So many nights, I wanted to quit him, move home never to see him again, and erase these years from my memory. But for some reason, he was ever present, lingering in the shadows waiting for me to come back. I guess he always knew I would. He knew that beneath my calm, laid back demeanor was a fighter. Last semester Grad School asked me to fight for the chance to be with him. Someone tried to take him away from me. And he knew exactly what I would do; I would own up to not always wanting him, bad talking him, and mistreating him. But he also knew that I would say I still wanted to be with him and that I would see our relationship through.

So today here we are, back together. After all of that, I am so happy to be with him. Not because it is easy, but I missed him. I missed our good times. I missed all the things he could teach me when I left myself open. I missed all of the people he introduced to my life. I only have 3 classes or about a year left before our relationship runs it's course. It will be bittersweet when I finally do have to leave him. And even though many times he has been a pain in my side, he will be the one I can't forget: My boyfriend named Grad School.

If you are thinking about a man named Grad School, I suggest you think long and hard. He really is great, but he makes you work hard to be with him and reap the benefits of the relationship. He is no easy lover, but he rewards you with things you probably cannot think of. I could fill this page with the things Grad School did for me. But you will have to meet with Grad School, and see for yourself. I will tell you, he is one heck of a man.

xoxo,

Lasondra

Here is a picture of where my love Grad School lives, Saint Mary's College of California.