Freestylin\\\’

I love my mother. Believe me: I love her. She definitely knows how to ask the wrong questions at the wrong times.

“Does R have a baby?” she asked me, in a slightly sing-song and innocent child-like voice. (It’s a tone she uses when she knows I might get upset!)

Who is R? R happens to be a mofo I have no residual feelings for what-so-ever whenever I think about him, although I do think about him from time to time. He happens to be the dude I mentioned in an earlier entry about marriage. He was the first person I was engaged to.

Gritting my teeth, I replied as respectfully as possible, “I don’t know, and I probably never will know if he does.” I wanted to add “nor do I care”, but I knew my mother would take that as giving her attitude, so I dropped it.

These damn exes. Why should we still think about them? I was talking with a my friend, J, today — delightfully relishing a Shandy (try it, it’s way cooler than a mimosa) during a work meeting. Somehow during this work meeting, the ex-boyfriend talk came up.

How to Attend the Wedding of a Person You Can’t Stand

Somehow, it was unavoidable. You received the invitation in the mail, and it’s not exactly like you can decline. You may love the bride to pieces but want to vomit on the groom. It may be family, or your co-worker, or even a friend of a friend — and for whatever reason, you HAVE to go or else it looks bad. The prospect of attending this wedding gives you intense pains resembling that of a hernia, and perhaps you just threw up a teeny bit in your mouth. Well, suck it up and toss that RSVP card in the mail. You’re going, and you’re also going to ace it.

Things You’ll Need:

Step1) Don’t go alone. Bring an awesome, intelligent, interesting, fun date. It can even be your own sister. Just make sure it’s someone you love hanging out with regardless. Bribe them if you have to.

Step2) Wear an outfit you LOVE. It will put you in a good mood. Remember not to compete with the bridesmaids, however.

Step3) Resist the urge to roll your eyes during the event. It will not go unnoticed. This also goes for any defensive or negative body language. Instead of crossing your arms, keep your hands in your pockets. Put a rubbing stone in there if need be. Finger the beads of your necklace. Take a clutch.

Step4)Do not do anything passive aggressive, like “accidentally” bumping into your object of distaste, or getting a wedding gift you know they’ll hate. It will only appear aggressive.
Step5When you shake the couple’s hands, give a big smile and a firm grip. It helps to be talking about something very positive and happy with your date right before you have to do this so it appears more sincere.

Step6) For whatever reason you hate this person, remember that this wedding day is their day, it is very special, and if you do anything obnoxious it will be you who looks like the jerk.

Step7) Every time you have the urge to retch or make a sarcastic comment, immediately say something complimentary instead. “Her dress is gorgeous!” instead of “What a crock of poo” will go a long way. You also never know who will overhear.

Tips:

Maintain good posture.

Focus on the good.

Leave the reception early if you absolutely have to, but at least wait after a dance or two.

Do not say anything insincere. You will be transparent.

Apparently, CBS (see cbs.com) went genius and now offers free viewings of Bevery Hills, 90210 and Twin Peaks. This has gotten me addicted to 90210 reruns, a show that I was not allowed to watch when it debuted — not until its third season or so. Fashion has certainly come full-circle, because I’m sure that I could assemble all of Kelly Taylor’s outfits from an American Apparel store.

Just in time, too, because in a couple of weeks I am going to be attending my 10 year high school reunion. Which of course, brings me to the all-important question of “What do I WEAR?” If it weren’t enough to decide what bad ass frock I’m going to flaunt with my growed up self, the theme is all white.

You heard it.

In a word, disastrous. The last time I bought a dress for an all-white party, I got to sail around Manhattan on a boat. It was pretty stylish, but what happened to the dress isn’t: It know has interesting brown spots all over it. Coffee? Bailey’s? Who knows.

The other thing is: hair. A few entries ago, I was pining over pixies — which is totally the crop of choice among the truly fashionable. Being the most stylish also happens to involve a set of nerves that throws being self-conscious out the window. Today, after watching my friend, J, look extra awesome with her Melrose Place “Jane” hair, it definitely gave me the courage to cut my hair ala our favorite Beverly Hills shoplifter, Winona Ryder.

This look definitely would have shocked my fellow graduating class, since I had hair down my back throughout high school. My style has also changed into a Nylon Magazine meets Redbook kind of deal, when I used to wear baggy clothes and random snatches from my mother’s hideaway vintage back in the day.

High school is usually a horror story for most people, and I definitely survived through some nightmares. It usually involved boys, best friends, or family. In all, I had a great group of friends from all over the cafeteria lunchroom. I was charming, witty, and a tad bit Brenda Walsh dramatic. There was no Luke Perry for me yet back then, however (not until my co-workers at the indie video store during my college days). It was either the Zach Morris look-a-like in my chem class (whom I would date for five years! By the way, uber-long high school relationships are way overrated — I wish I had the mindset to date more back then) or the Mos Def-esque prince who was a little older and where my heart truly was and stayed for many years, especially after hearing him read a piece that was inspired by the movie Leaving Las Vegas

If you asked me in high school what I would be doing now, the first thing I would have said still remains true: I live for writing. All the rest? Although I wound up with a guy I went to high school with, I didn’t even see him after high school until I was 26! I have a son, although I thought my blooming career would not allow for kids until post 30. You never would have heard me admit to wearing slim/skinny jeans — and I definitely would have had my license by now!

I’m infamous for an article I wrote about pity dating. I still have people coming up to me and telling me how it changed the way they communicate. Many men will not like what I am about to write because they won’t want to admit that this has happened to them with a girl they thought had the hots for them, and probably a few women will be too ashamed to admit that I’m right. However, the truth is that I’ve seen it time and time again, especially with women who are in their early 20’s or new to the dating scene. I wanted to bring it up because of a frustrating exchange with a co-worker in a relationship who didn’t want to admit that she was in a relationship to a guy who was asking her out, even though she was not interested in this guy!

You run into the weird term “chillin’” or “doing something together” or “hanging out”. And I’m not talking about your boobs. Let’s say a guy uses the term “hang out”. In comes your selective hearing: If you do like him, you want to translate it into a date, but if you don’t like him, you want to translate it into something very platonic or “Oh, he just wants to be friends! I like having friends.”

I used to “chill” and “hang” with guys I had no romantic interest in whatsoever, but it turns out I was a bitch and leading them on. I’ve seen this happen again and again in so many instances. A guy will ask for a girl’s number at the bar, she doesn’t want to be mean, so instead of being real about it — she either gives him her number with the intention of ignoring him if he calls or tries to “buddify” the potential date by saying they can hang out “in a group” or “with friends”. Guess what? That’s still leading him on! Guys suffer from selective hearing, too. Many of them will interpret that as, “Oh, we’re going on a group date.” Or, “Oh, she likes me, she wants to hang out.” Also, don’t lie and say you’re in a relationship if you’re not. It’ll either get back to them, or the person you’re interested in will find out and think you’re in a relationship when you’re not.

Ladies, word of advice: Keep it real. Don’t lead the poor guy on. If you’re not interested, just say, “I’m not interested.” Do not be afraid of hurting someone’s feelings. How big of an asshole would you feel like if a guy felt sorry for you and gave you his number and you called and didn’t understand why he wasn’t calling you back? Exactly.

I’ve gotten into so much crap for this. My problem was that I sincerely just wanted to be friends in most cases. So I’d just fool myself into thinking that the guy got the hint, but really, he didn’t.

Also, try not to get tricked about giving your phone number or email out if you really don’t want to. If you want to, then go for it, but if you don’t then don’t. Just say, “No thanks.” That’s it. If you get called a bitch then obviously he’s a controlling jerk and you don’t need friends like that anyway.

My friend, J, kept looking at her phone the other day and telling me, “This guy I’m not into keeps texting me.”

I asked her if she told him she’s not interested. She said no.

I mean, yes. Technically, people are supposed to know that if you don’t reply to their messages, you’re not interested. Honestly, I can spare five seconds in my day for someone I have a crush on. Unless I’m playing a game, which is stupid — game playing is for middle school. In reality, however, many people live in the same place. And that’s (drumroll please):

DENIAL.

They will rationalize that the reason you are not calling back is because of A, B, or C. And you will keep getting those unwanted texts.

In some cases, however, I wonder if, even though the texts are from an unwanted suitor… are they actually unwanted?

I remember running away from a guy in order to avoid him. But secretly, did I like it that he was stalking me because he was giving me attention? Even though I hated his guts? Sometimes, that’s the case, too. And why would I be interested in what he’s up to or who he’s dating after I’m not the obsession anymore? That actually didn’t happen (me wondering about him). But it is a pretty nacissistic an conceited attitude.

Point being: Be real. It’s one of the most attractive qualities in a person — being genuine, honest, and being able to carry that without coming off as a snobby bitch. This is after over a decade of dating, and it’s very valuable advice.

My son was born at home with the help of a midwife, her apprentice, and my partner. I came to this decision after having a series of visits with a midwife at a renouned hospital, but then deciding I wanted a much more personal and natural experience with my baby.

Here are some of the most frequently asked questions I receive from others.

1.) Weren’t you scared if something would go wrong?

I was more scared of something not going wrong and being coerced with unnecessary interventions. This actually almost happened. I tested positive for Group B Strep, and the standard thing is that I would automatically be strapped to an IV during labor in the hospital and be given antibiotics. However, if you do your research on both sides, this is an overly cautious intervention.

I also asked my midwives important questions about their practice that made me very comfortable and ensured my trust in them. This included what their plans were in case of an emergency, whether they had their own oxygen, and many other questions that were of my own concern or that were suggested to me by others.

2.) Did you take any drugs?

No. No anti-biotics, no epidural.

3.) Why no epidural?

Instead, I learned coping strategies for the pain, which worked really well. Instead of Lamaze, I chose to do vocalization exercises which my partner did with me during contractions and honestly that is what got me through the contractions. The vocalizations I used were deep, guttoral grunting sounds. I also used alternative birthing positions which are much less painful than giving birth on your back. One doctor said that giving birth on the back is the most painful way to give birth short of being hung upside down.

There are debates on the use of epidurals, but my main reasoning was that because of evolution, my body knows the best way to give birth. Since I was healthy and had no complications, I trusted that my biology would get me through everything. Epidurals can increase labor and it also interrupts the whole process of dilation and what your brain is telling your body to do at the right time. This helps some women, but I didn’t feel I needed it. I am not against epidurals, I feel that women should make their own educated decisions.

4.) What did giving birth feel like?

It felt like I was shitting a bowling ball. Then the baby kind of plopped out at the end.

5.) Which position worked the best?

I was squatting, with my partner holding me under my armpits for support. I had a very fast labor, too fast to do a waterbirth, which was what I had originally planned.

6.) What would you have done differently?

Drank more water during my pregnancy. I think that had something to do with how fast my baby came. My labor was only 3.5 hours.

I’ve been proposed to a handful of times in my life and haven’t had any luck with my engagements. Marriage at first seemed so **magical**!! And the idea of planning a non-church wedding that would blow everyone’s mind? I ate that up like it was chocolate cake that doesn’t go straight to your ass.

However, my view of marriage has severely changed since that first time around with my high school boyfriend and a sterling silver engagement ring bought straight from Mexico City with hearts on it.

When a friend of mine was about to get married, he told me one of the most common questions people would ask him was, “Are you ready for this big change? Is it scary?”

Mark told me that actually, getting married didn’t seem like this life-altering thing. He said he was with his girlfriend for awhile and they were already living together. He felt that having a baby would be the thing that would be life altering.

I was a bridesmaid recently in a wedding, and the bride shared similar sentiments. “It’s like the same way it was before,” she informed me.

My co-worker, however, said that marriage was hard work. And maybe I’m at the point where I understand what she means.

Well, I do have a baby, but I’m not married. And just like Mark said, having a baby has changed my life in ways way beyond the typical staying up all night and getting poop all over you. It had changed my identity, the way I view commitment and relationships and priorities and friendships. It has changed my body and my lifestyle. It has changed the way I love and forgive.

People ask me, “When’s the wedding?”

I do know this, I am now thinking of marriage as something that probably should bring profound change in the way you are willing to commit to a relationship. For me, I don’t want it to be about, “Oh, we’ve been dating for awhile, it just makes sense”.

If I decide to get married, it will really be something life-altering — it will be about making the same promises to my partner as I would my son. That is the level of commitment and work that should go into a marriage. Am I ready for that?

It is terrifying. Because I would not go into it with the mentalilty that, “Oh, hey, I can get a divorce if I want!” I would go into it full-force Shakespearian “Love does not bend with the remover to remove”.

It was an unsurprising reaction that I’ve observed in the dating world: someone with a kid gets several points knocked off their Desirability Factor. Even a friend of mine who is a parent now told me about his decision not to ask out a girl in college because he found out she had a kid. Hotness factor? Doesn’t matter. A friend of mine, S, has a crew of hot gal pals — the if the SATC Bible were Nylon and not Vogue. One of her crew is a Jordana Brewster look-a-like and gets second and third glances from the cute little former-hipsters turned Anthem model guys. That is, until they find out she’s a mother.

It happens to be a common reaction. Remember that show on TV, Blind Date? The pop-up video version of reality TV dating? One guy got set up with a mother, and he dumped her as soon as he noticed her “stretch marks” as he viciously told her. “You’ve got kids, I can tell by your stretch marks.” She even wound up trying to tempt him with a topless swim, but he left her out in the pool by herself. “I don’t want to walk into a ready-made family.”

I was talking to one of my good friends about this. “Would you date someone with a kid?” I asked him.

Without hesitation, he answered, “Absolutely. Especially if they are a good parent, because I feel like the qualities that makes them a good parent would translate to the relationship as well.”

I felt that was interesting insight. Though there are definitely good parents who suck at relationships.

Until I had a baby myself, I honestly didn’t think I would ever date someone who had a child. Admittedly, that wasn’t a great mentality. My reasoning was the usual “baby mama drama”. I couldn’t really comprehend how someone who had a child with another person could really be over the person who they had a child with. I always figured it was too strong of a bond and I would come second to that no matter what.

I realize now that isn’t the case. I have a baby now and of course he is my life and love, but I do understand how you can have no sentimental feelings for the other parent. Most pregnancies are unplanned, and sometimes they are with a person you don’t want to be with and you decide to keep the baby. It’s as simple as that.

A few entries ago, I definitely stated that the Asian Fetish thing is completely FUBAR, and yet, beyond my control, one of the ads being placed in my entries is about Asian marriage. That’s some bullshit.

I remember awhile ago, I went to the Halocaust Museum and listened to a Halocaust survivor talk about how he went to a party when someone made an anti-Semetic joke. He had to stand up and say that the joke wasn’t funny, and saying that apparently ruined the party. That’s really unfortunate when a party is ruined by someone taking a stand rather than someone who is acting like a racist pig. I often think back to the story of this survivor, who survived one of the most horrendous events in history — how he was able to do this act.

As an Asian woman, I feel ashamed to have an ad like that on one of my entries. I assure you I did not pick it out.

I talk to one of my friends about boys a lot. It’s not to be helped because of the incest rings (for instance, if you hook up with one person in Ann Arbor, you can probably trace yourself to every other person who’s ever visited the 8 Ball).

“You should write about it!” she said.

“You realize I would get repeatedly killed, right?” I replied.

We’ve been talking about “types” recently. One of my friends doesn’t have a type.

I don’t really either, but I have noticed a pattern in what attracts me to a guy, and it’s severely different than the guys I was attracted to when I was living in Flint. I think that, like evolution, my taste in men has morphed to accomodate to what is around me in Ann Arbor:

There’s a scene in the new Sex in the City movie (shut up, you know you secretly want to watch it) where Carrie and Big are sitting together in bed and she asks to use Big’s glasses. This totally reminds me of (shut up) me and my boyfriend because these past two weeks I have been living as a dorky squinter. Definition of a dorky squinter: Someone who isn’t wearing glasses but should, resulting in geeky facial expressions such as wrinkled noses and exposed front teeth when trying to peer at things in order to see them. I lost my five year old Burberry emo glasses and have been using my best friend’s reject contact lenses and my boyfriend’s blue emo glasses as back-up when I need to see.

They got used during a wedding I was in (had to!) and during a lot of the eastern conference NBA play offs (ugh, let’s not talk about it). Also, during said Sex and the City movie which I hate myself for thinking about too much since I have not forgiven Carrie for her views on bisexuality or Miranda’s typical racism.

Anyway, back to Carrie and Big in bed. Carrie is wearing a sexy chemise and not an oversized T-shirt with boxer shorts.

This reminds me of a movie my best friend S suggested I watch called Last Kiss starring Zack Braf. I don’t know if I spelled that right and spell check doesn’t work on names, unfortunately. In the movie, one of his friends says that his girlfriend is perfect because she’s beautiful (debatable, but I’m hating) and just like “one of the guys”.

My question is, do guys really want to date one of the guys? I’m teetering on dangerous sex role stereotypes here, but let’s try and interpret what “one of the guys” attempts to mean. Swearing? Farting? What else? Baggy dirty clothes? Watches sports?

My friend Jillian and I were talking about how great it is to have guy friends to hang out with because hanging out with girly girls can be too overwhelming.

“I can only say, omigod, these shoes are so cute, so many times before I start wanting to throw up,” she said.

Honestly, I were only allowed to talk about fashion in this blog while having to write in it every day, I think I would sneak in a review of a Pistons jersey somewhere. Oh, wait, I did do that! Having a good group of guy friends is definitely a plus. I used to only hang out with guys all the time — sports, drinks, sex talk (for awhile it was only the guys who would talk about sex) — the only thing was I wore stilettos and skirts back then. And I will say, hanging out with the guys definitely got me the most attention.

So dating “one of the guys” is good, but what about committing to her? I get worried that I fart some foul smells a bit too often in front of my partner and don’t give a rat’s ass about how I look at times. As I write this, however, it crosses my mind that it doesn’t mean that I’m being “too much of a guy”, but just careless.

I asked one guy I know whether or not he would date a girl who acted like one of his buddies. His immediate response: “Is she pretty?” The farting had to be controlled, but going to a game was a plus.

But wait, some women just don’t like sports.

I don’t think the point here is to all of a sudden gain an acute interest in NBA stats and players (my personal forte), but don’t dog it if you haven’t tried it (number one) and (number two) let’s say you don’t like sports. Fine. I think another quality that is unfortunately considered a “guy” quality is just speaking your mind with that biting sarcastic humor of yours that can go one on one — like Mortal Kombat but with insults and/or cleverness.

While I realize I’m using lots of masculine stereotypes, we should know the story about the woman who took doses of testosterone. That’s for another article, however.