If it smells like a psycho, it's probably a psycho.

Those my friends are words to live by.

Let's get a few things out of the way to start.  I love life.  I love experiences.  I love happiness.  I also love the negatives that life has to offer.  You may think I'm certifiably insane, but that's my perogative. 

So here we go:

- I have forgotten how many boys I have dated

- I definitely don't know how many men I have dated 

- I can remember all of my exes names and phone numbers

- I have online dated, more than once, and I will most likely never do it again

- I have met significant others organically

- I have met possible suitors organically

And let me tell you the age-old rule of if it smells like a psycho, it's a psycho and you should run.  And some of those gentlemen have be capital "P" "Psycho".

I recently met a said human being.  Very charming, very handsome, seemed to have some good things going.  I gave him my number.  Bad idea.  Such a bad idea.  Dude is cray.  And by cray, I mean he thinks it's okay to degrade women, use obscene language, and insinuate that he's the shit and it's my loss.

I'm sorry but can someone please explain to me when it became normal for someone to go apeshit crazy when you have met someone once, talked to her for maybe 4 hours?  This is ridonculous and needs to stop.  There's a reason you're single, dude.  There's a reason your ex screwed you over.  And it's definitely not me or her being the problem.  Guess who it is?  Yep, you're right, YOU!  You earned a gold star, in reality, you're probably closer to earning a restraining order and something tells me that you know what that's like.

Don't get me wrong I believe that people deserve a chance until they've proven that they don't deserve a chance.  Looking back at my past debacles of relationships I realized once upon a time me would have probably delusionally given this crazy horse a chance.  Thank God I have grown the eff up.  Chalk it up to learning from experience.

To the future gentlemen that I might undoubtedly meet, although, I love the experience, I could do with a little less bizarre.  Please take heed to the following requests:

- don't be a psychopath

- don't be a sociopath 

- don't be a crazed addict- drug addicts, alcoholics, sex addicts, and the emotionally demented need not apply

-  fellows living with moms because it's just easier that way, please walk on by (I get if there's legitimate reasons, but if you're 30 living with ma and pa because you can, please leave)

- have a career, not just a job

- have goals and them not be just video-game related

- want a girlfriend, best friend and possibly one day a wife and a family (note there is no rush with this)

- be into health

- be supportive of the people in your life

- be understanding

That's the list of my new requirements.  If you don't have those or don't foresee attaining those qualities, do a majority of woman-kind and especially myself a favour and pound sand.  Quit reproducing.  I mean it, quit.  Capital Q.

Women- if you don't have these requirements, get a grip.  Or jump off a bridge. Please also stop reproducing.

I would really like to know how natural selection enables the physically superior of species, however within humans, the idiocy continues to reproduced with.

This was a bizarre post and I'd like to apologize.  On the other hand, I think I got the point across- if it smells like a psycho, it's most likely a psycho.  Run. Like. The. Wind.  And then call the cops.

Bloody hell with a cherry on top

If that subject line confused you, it's clearly done it's job, impeccably.  This post is probably going to be one of the most random entries to date, so prepare yourself.

I have been hopped up on antibiotics and some sort of inhaler since Friday.  Oh goody.  My favourite part of being sick is the crazy drugs that are prescribed to you where the side affects include things like dizziness, nausea, dry throat and another all time fav not included on my current list is hallucinations.  Not even going to lie.

Try going to a movie on a drug that causes hallucinations and see what happens when you're walking down the stairs from your seat and it looks like shit is flying at you.  I bet you $10 that that flying crap is going to make you go off balance and you're gonna tumble down the stairs.  Yeah, I'd win the 10 bucks, cause folks that has happened to me.  Surprisingly in that lucid, high state, I did not break a bone, but throw me in any other bizarre situation and you can bet your bottom dollar that I'm going to either break something or tear a ligament.  

Anyhow, let's be honest, being sick ain't for the faint of heart.  But there's only one  direction when you reach the bottom, and lets hope that that's up.  Because if it really means that I'm gonna roll around on the ground, dry heaving, and coughing up my right lung, I'm effed.

That's what I got to say about that.  Now off to take a couple puffs. Of. My. Inhaler. Jeez Louise, get your head straight.  This is a family-friendly blog (we can hold onto hope, realistically, if children are reading this, there's some bigger issues at hand).

Good night folks.

I'm good at dating...

Not!

So, let's just say, I'm not the most gifted or lucky in love.  I am a put her heart on her sleeve, give you the shirt off my back (if flashing were okay) type of girl and usually it means that I'm hypothetically topless and alone.  How does that happen?

Anyways, I'm sure I could read up on women with daddy issues, how women don't fall to their gender roles and look after themselves, or about how men genuinely only want the size 0, blonde, newly legal bimbo telling me why I'm single.  But I think I'm just gonna go with my singleness is a purely "me" issue.  I find men who need work.  I like a good fixer upper.  The problem with this idea is that eventually you burn out.  The relationship becomes completely lopsided and then you're capsizing like the freaking Titanic.

So, here's the thing.  Maybe it's best to be single and ready to mingle until you figure your shit out.  I've been single a lot,  I've also had a lot of relationships that I learned more about numero uno- moi.  I'm not saying I'm a serial dater, but I've been open to the experience.  And man, has it been a ride.

I'm showing my exes one day at a time that I'm better off without you, but I'm better off as well from knowing you.  There's a frightening thought cause some of you were freaking headcases.

Well, there you have it folks, that's the relationship/single bubble in a nutshell.

Now bugger off.