Kiss Me, I'm 33.2% Irish

I decided to organize all the mail we had lying around everywhere today, and put it on the hall table in a double-decker letter tray.  I had asked her about doing it before, and she said that it wasn't any of her mail.  So to show her it was, I put it all together.

Passive Aggressive Teenager attitude reared it's ugly head in my mother.  She took her mail and went upstairs to her room with it.  Hubby was working for three hours on a St Patrick's Day dinner she almost didn't come down to eat.  Then she just pushed around her food on her plate not saying anything.  She retreated back to her room after dinner and didn't say anything to anyone.

I apologized to hubby, and he was still a little miffed about it considering she had ruined the whole dinner with her attitude.  She wonders why we don't bother to make dinner or spend time with her.

I really should have not let it go when Hubby said it would be okay to move in with her.  I would have said I wasn't going to do that and we should find an apartment.  I had a Skype interview today that I hope goes well.  If it does we are moving out ASAP.

Death, Take a Vacation

The best man from my wedding died suddenly a little over a week ago.  As soon as my husband's phone rang I knew he had passed.  If it was intuition or my ability to go straight to worst case scenario, I guess I'll never know.

Even though my dad and both my grandmothers had passed, this one was different.  All of those didn't come with the horrific element of surprise.  I also didn't have to deal with a terribly co-dependent friend this time around like I did with my dad.

This time around I didn't really feel like I had the right to be upset.  It was Hubby's friend, not really mine.  We spent some "couple" time together for sure, but he wasn't really my friend.  In fact, I had the distinct impression that he was amused by me, but had no interest in getting to know me personally.

He was a very passionate guy. He would get obsessed with something and it would be 300% about that topic until he was over it.  It could come off as extremely selfish, and a lot of the time it was.  It was.  I'm still angry with him.  I'm angry that his perfect family, his perfect life in his mansion, wasn't enough to seek the help he needed.  He's a selfish asshole.  He was a selfish asshole.  Even if his death turns out to be an accident, I'm still mad at him for not getting his shit together.

But I'm not allowed to have those feelings.  He's not a friend, I'm not supposed to have opinions about this.  I'm supposed to just be there for Hubby.  I'm trying my best to be there for him.  But my own feelings keep getting in the way. 

I'm so inappropriate when it comes to death.  All I could think about during the open casket was what a long day his corpse had, with a viewing from 4pm-8pm and then off for cremation in time for his funeral at 11AM the next morning.  It looked like him, but it also looked like someone from Madam Tussaud's had an intern do him.  If he was getting cremated later, was he in a longer casket?  When my sister was giving me a hard time about what I was wearing to my Grandmother's funeral, I told her that she humped the couches so much as a toddler that my mom took her to a doctor to see if she was okay.  Yeah, I put the fun in funeral.

I've cried almost ever other day since it happened.  Today I was super fatigued and slept through most of the day.  I hope this is the beginning of the acceptance phase, because I'm over this anger phase.

Lasting Effects

I went to the doctor this week, and we are trying a different type of medication, and I'm doing an ultrasound for other reasons at the end of the month.

He also told me that over the past year my glucose levels were bouncing up and down.  I knew that I had been going overboard with the sweets, but when I thought back to why, it came down to a friend who didn't want to eat chocolate alone.

I was never really big on sweets, like my mom.  However, because of this "friend" I sort of got a taste for it that I never shook.  When I really sat down and thought about it, I needed something sweet at least once a day, if not two.  It was a bad friendship, but until this week I had no idea of the lasting effects that it had caused; I was actually had developed a bad habit that was bad for my health.

It also made me think of other relationships that have had bad lasting effects.  My cousin told me when I was very little that Nana (her dad's mother) didn't really love me, and whenever we were together she was just being nice to me.  When you are a kid, you pretty much take things at face value, and what she said made sense at the time.  Nana made them clothes and did things for them that she didn't do for me, but they did all live in the same city.

At the cousin's wedding a few years ago, I sat down and had a conversation with Nana, and she made a comment that she missed me and wished I'd call once in awhile.  I brushed it off, thinking that she was again, just being nice.  She died around the same time as my dad, and when I emailed her daughter to give my condolences, and she told me that Nana asked that she bring my thank you notes to the hospital before she passed. 

When I found out about that I cried for so long, because not only was she gone, but there was no chance of getting to know her.  Years that she wasn't just being polite, but she actually did like me, and I could have had another grandma.  She wouldn't have even kept my thank you notes if she didn't care.  An entire relationship lost because of one comment that my cousin made.

Now I have to worry about being diabetic because of another lasting effect of something someone else manipulated me into doing.  I'm not saying they are all 100% to blame, but I'm still disappointed that other people can mess with my life that much.

New Car, New Life

I got a new car, and a few weeks after I got a new shift at work.  A shift that required me to wake up about the time that I was usually going to sleep.

It's been pretty bad, but the worst of it isn't that I have to wake up early, but the fact that in order to get 8 hours of sleep, I have to be asleep by 7pm.  People always say that it's awesome to get off of work early, but honestly when you have to be in bed by the time senior citizens are eating dinner, it pretty much kills life.

Thankfully, we just had another shift bid and I'm back to being a night owl again, which is what I love.  I also have a person I love back on my team at work, and 1 day off with my husband again instead of zero, which is nice.  It will be great to be back on the same sleep schedule, where we share a bed for more than 2 hours at a time.

When I posted a picture of my car on FB, my 6th grade best friend said "this car is totally you" which meant so much to me.  I feel like I'm getting my life back a little.

If only my thyroid meds were working better.  It's been 6 months, and all I've ended up losing is 4 pounds.  I'm eating under how many calories I'm burning a day, and 4 pounds is all I've lost.  And I'm still very tired all the time.  I guess that means it's time for another doctor's appointment.

The Mom Car

So, I hate my car.  I've hated my car since I've gotten it in 2006.  I was forced into buying it, and sometimes I wish I had thrown money into my first car and just kept it.  My car now feels like a mom car, and I hate feeling fat and old in it.

My car is now approaching 100,000 miles, the magic number where you can't get anything for it.  I feel like my sentence should be up with this car, and I want it out.  I want a car that I connect with.  Maybe I watch too many Herbie movies, but my first car and I had a relationship.  I talked, it listened, we worked as a team together.  I had a connection with it, and we were good together.  I want that again.  I want to trade in my mother-in-law of a Camry for something younger, hipper, and more me.

I test drove a couple different cars the other day, and I found myself thinking more into the future with my car choice.  The car I choose will be the one I cart my future kids around in.  I don't want to be the mom that doesn't think about her kid's comfort and carts them around in a tiny car.  On the other hand, I'm not going to go out and buy a mini-van and drive it around for 2 years before I have kids.

I can't believe that I'm thinking about cars and babies at the same time.  This is silly.  I'm picking out a mom car.

Subconscious, Subconscious, Go Away

My mom was sitting on the couch, watching an old family movie.  I knew she would do this when it was time, so I put it in for her and we sat and watched it together, holding hands. 

She looked over at me and told me to take care of my sister, and not to be worried that this is how she had decided to end her life; before her health got too bad and the "quality of life" was down.  I told her she wasn't leaving me with many instructions, like what belonged to who in the house.  She said I could figure it out, and walked out of the room.

I awoke with a start, 6:00AM.  This time I didn't burst into tears right away and wake my husband, I held it together until I could leave the room.  Then I sobbed, and worried that my dream was prolific, and wanted to call my mom right away.  It took me 15 minutes to realize it was Saturday and when I talked to her last night she said she hoped the cat didn't wake her up because she wanted to sleep in.  I emailed her to call me, and now I sit and wait to see if my subconscious is correct, or if I have to just stop watching the last season of Buffy before I go to bed at night.

1 down...

I just finished my interview with Job B.  It sounds like something I'd be really good at, and she said it's basically going to turn into doing the social media for all the employees of the property.  It's a lot of writing, and I love writing.  I really think I can do it, but I just don't know.  I'll be called next week to either be out of the running or in for a second interview.

My mom and one of my friends said I should take job B if offered, and then if it doesn't work out, just quit and take job A (If I got Job A it wouldn't start until April, which would give me time to see if I like Job B).  I just don't know, it seems wrong.

I guess I'll figure out how I feel after Monday's interview.  Wish me luck!

Christmas Movies

I decided this Christmas season to watch all those Christmas movies that people talk about.  They always say how wonderful they are, and how they look forward to watching them all year.  I was not impressed by any of these movies.

Miracle of 34th Street-This was my husband's favorite, and I have to admit there is a certain charm to it.  It helps that I love the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, which is how it starts.  But then it just meanders on and on...and as a whole it's a nice movie, but not one I'd ever go out of my way to watch again.

It's a Wonderful Life-So, I really thought that this movie would have more to do with Christmas, but really Christmas was just sort of there while everything else happened around it.  And, I'm sorry, but I'm used to seeing Jimmy Stewart not be a huge jerk to everyone, and I didn't like it.  He's much better talking to an invisible rabbit or making filibusters. 

White Christmas-Again, it was a movie, where Christmas just happened by.  A cute enough movie, of course, but I never care about seeing it again.

A Christmas Story-I just found this movie overly strange.  Why doesn't he ever bring in the rest of the mail?  Why does he want a BB gun so bad?  He seems overly influenced by the media, isn't that bad?  Why in the world would anyone make an award into a chessy leg lamp? Kids curse all the time, why is it such a big deal in this movie?  Don't people know that this movie is based on a bunch of articles written for Playboy?  I think he only got that gun because he wouldn't have shut up about it otherwise.

Now, this is the one that everyone thinks is fantastic.  About 15 minutes into the movie, I posted a comment on Facebook about how I was watching it, and so far it was overly narrated, which it is.  I don't know how that's even debatable. 9 comments later, I found that no one is able to be objective about this movie.

No one has any actual valid reasons for thinking this is a good movie.  They just stand by it blindly because it's been part of their childhood, the same reason no one can say for certain why they like "Wizard of Oz."  It's because they can't remember their life without it, they can't seem to be objectionable.

Friendship

My mom just sent me a link to a story for this book, which is out tomorrow.  Basically it started with this woman having a horrible experience in college where she was basically backstabbed in the extreme by a bunch of girls from a sorority. 

As I read the article, I became more and more relived to find that I wasn't alone.  I've had two female friends my whole life that haven't been backstabbing, horrible individuals.  I wish I was exaggerating. 

One was my best friend in 6th grade.  We weren't the same person, but we fit together, and we were always there for each other.  I know people say that kind of dumb crap all the time, but in this case it was actually true.  If I was upset about anything, she would be there for me no matter what.  I can only recall one fight we ever had, and that ended with us bursting into laughter and forgetting the fight the second after it happened.

Nothing ever happened to break up our friendship, we just started hanging out with different people.  We went through junior high and high school never even seeing each other in the halls between classes.  She wasn't the type to join Facebook or even really have a computer at all, so I never expected to see her again.  As my life went on, through college and afterward, my mind sometimes wandered towards her, but her name was too common to Google without much luck.  I always hoped she was happy and everything was okay with her.  I knew I'd never really see her again.

Cut to last month, when I went with my husband to Disneyland to celebrate his birthday.  It was the end of our annual passes, and we were getting the most out of it, staying at the Grand Californian so we could go back to the hotel room whenever we wanted.  Hubby had convinced me to go on the Grizzly River Run for the first time.  I had avoided it because it was a water ride, and I desperately hate to get wet and then walk around all day in wet clothes.  I agreed to go if we went back to the hotel and I could change into my bathing suit and a cover up.

It turns out it's one of those wet rides where you are in a big round rubber tube with a bunch of other people.  It forces people to be social, since you really can't be on your cell phone when water is coming down all around you.  We talked with our group until the end of the ride, but it was a little difficult, since most of them didn't really speak English.  We decided we were a little wet, we might as well go again, since this would be our last time in the parks.  The second time was fun as well, more people spoke English.

As we exited, Hubby said "Ready to go back to the hotel?"  And for some reason, I wanted to go one last time.  It had been so lonely at home since losing my job, and I was really craving some interaction.  So one last time we went, and after the ride and an embarrassing fall down the stairs afterward (my shoes became so waterlogged, I fell) I knew I had reconnected with my 6th grade best friend. 

She was in the ride with us, next to my husband, with HER husband, who was...get this...celebrating his birthday.  They were staying at the same hotel, on the same floor, and we were leaving the next day, they had just arrived that day.  If that one moment hadn't come to pass, we would have never reconnected, never came across each other.  In fact it was her mannerisms, and not her face, that I recognized.  It was my gut that somehow knew she was who she was. 

It was one of the coolest things that has ever happened to me.  I feel like, because everything else has sucked lately, fate saw fit to give me a piece of what made me myself back.

And, as luck would have it, Facebook brought my other best friend back as well.

On the relationship front, life is good.

Making it Easy

It's so much easier to get over a situation when the other person becomes a deliberately terrible person.  Thank you, for reminding me exactly what I'm missing: A person who only thinks of themselves, and will be rude and uncalled for at the drop of a hat.

It's official.  It's over.

I've been putting off celebrating because I was afraid it would all just come back and I'd have the same problem.  Now, its over. 

I'm so going out for ice cream after work today.  I don't think it's an exaggeration to say life is going to get much better.  I'm going to sleep without dreams of this coming back to haunt me.  I'm going to be happier, have the energy to work out.

Everything is going to get better.

Recovering

Even though I feel as if it's not quite over, I'm still going through a recovery process.  I didn't think ending a friendship would take recovery, I would just be better the next day.  The sun would be shinning, and I'd go on with my life.

But as the weeks went on, I was told by my friends more than once that I was over explaining things, that they understood.  It was then I realized how much who I was had actually been effected by the past couple years.  It made me think of the first Sex and the City movie where Miranda screams at Steve: "I changed who I was for you!"

For me, I hadn't even realized I had changed.  When it was pointed out to me, I was devastated.  Devastated that it had taken me that long to get out of, essentially, an abusive relationship.  I didn't think it was abusive until I was out.

So my heart goes out to all those girl's in REALLY abusive relationships.  It's so hard to see how bad it is when you are in it, I see that now.  And it's going to take work to get me back to where I was.  And that's so sad.

'Cause When the Heart Breaks it Don't Break Even

I care too much. It's one of the worst faults I have. If someone says to me, "Yeah, but who cares?" There is rarely a time when my head doesn't scream to them "I DO! I CARE!"

It's become a detriment. A weight. And I've learned to not care about certain things. Well, not NOT care as much as realize that there are some things that aren't worth worrying about that much. If dishes sit around for a couple of days, the earth isn't going to rotate right off it's axis. Everything will be fine.

I do this with my friends too. I'm an extremist friend. If you are my friend, and you need help, I'm right there. I'm doing the right thing for you, whether it's tell you that the boy who doesn't like you is an idiot, or trying to win that idiot back. But if one of my friends is doing something really stupid, I'm not keeping my mouth shut. I'm telling them exactly what they need to do to remedy a situation. I'm a great friend.

Never in my life has anyone abused this like a recent friend. I found this site on the internet and the line;

No matter how many friends you have, if you are their pillar, you will feel lonely and lost at the times you need them most.

It hit me like a ton of bricks. That is exactly what has been happening to me. This whole friendship I've been giving and giving and getting nothing back. Not because she was a bad person, but because she just wasn't capable of giving anything back. And even though I do love to help, it's like my advice wasn't being listened to. She wasn't learning anything from my sound advice. And I wasn't getting a friend in return.

It weighed on me. With what I've gone through, what I'm still going through...I don't have the emotional capacity to be anyone's pillar anymore. I've gotta get out.

Like Going Home Again

A couple weekends ago, I went home for the weekend. It was actually half for work, and half for play. Mostly though, it was to be with my Mom close to the anniversary of my Dad's death.

Not that we had time to even think about that, as she was running an expo and we barely sat down with each other for more than an hour the whole weekend. I had to have a whole morning conversation with my aunt that I really didn't want to have, but that's a story for another time.

The first morning I had to myself, and I drove around downtown and thought of all the things I could do as I drove by. I remembered things about my childhood, my adulthood, things that happened just last summer.

The possibility of the day lay before me, and it didn't strike me until I was on the plane ride home, but that was happiness. I felt more accepted there, and I feel like more people know me for who I am, and respect me for it. It was a nice feeling to have for the weekend. Maybe someday I'll find that place again.

But not in this town.

Polish the Stars

My parents gave me my love of musicals. Dad and I had been making the "jokes" in Mary Poppins to each other since I could talk.

The Music Man was my favorite musical to watch with my Dad. We would watch it over and over again. It was the the first live show I ever saw. We dressed up and went downtown to the show, but a train was coming and we had to run across the tracks to get to the show on time. I remember staring down the tracks into the bright light.

The show opened with the sound of a train, and a bright light came on the stage. I buried my face into my mother's neck, terrified we were about to be run over for the second time that night.

In later years, I asked my dad what his favorite musical was, fully expecting him to say The Music Man. But he surprised me and said Carousel.

To those who don't know the premise, a man up in heaven (which isn't heaven so much as it's a place you go after you die to polish the stars) gets one more chance to go down and put things right with the way he left his wife and child. As the story goes on, you see that he wasn't a very good guy. He was selfish, a jerk, but he fell in love with this girl and tried to stay on the straight and narrow path for her. It didn't work, and he got himself killed right after learning she was to have his child.

I remember at the end my dad always getting weepy, when even though he hadn't apologized or made anything better, he is sorry and goes back up to polish the stars.

My mom recently expressed a want to see it (since right before he died I thought it would comfort him to see it again and sent a copy) and I told her it needed to wait. That, along with so many other movies, would've broken us at the time.

I still haven't gotten up the courage to watch it, but every so often I think of my dad, looking down on me, and polishing the stars.

All is Quiet on New Year's Day

I started last year knowing that 2 people were going to die on me. They had issued my Dad the death sentence of 3 months, and my dementia-ridden Grandmother had stopped eating. Both had a DNR order on file.

I was also having horrible chest pains in the middle of the night that wouldn't stop. One lasted for 48 hours. The pain was so bad that, given the choice of dying or calling an ambulance, I would've rather died on the spot.

In reality, I'd been having these pains for years. I had dismissed them as panic attacks, and didn't dare tell anyone about them, for fear it would make me look weak. But, suddenly, in 2009, I couldn't spend a week without being attacked by this unbearable pain. I would spend most nights on the floor in the bathroom, crying for the pain to stop. Sleep would only come after 6 shots of vodka. Nightly.

Finally I went to the doctor, who assumed it was some sort of heart failure. He took blood, urine, EKG, and an, a stress test, chest x-ray, and ultrasound. The ultrasound revealed my gallstones. The doctor said I had more stones than gallbladder at that point. They must have been getting bigger since my first attack, at 16 years old.

But I had to wait. Everyone was on the cusp of death, and all needed to be settled before I could embark upon my first surgery. In fact, I hadn't checked into a hospital since I had pneumonia at 3 months old.

So, as the year wore on, and my awaited deaths occurred, plus one (my dear Nana), I found a doctor and went under the knife. I was terrified, but knew that 2010 could not start with a surgery. Everything needed to be clean and clear by December 31st, 2009.

And it was. With the inheritance that was left to me by my Grandma, we bought a house and watched fireworks outside our bedroom window, then went straight to bed.

My father appeared in my dreams that night. The family was all together and happy, planning a trip out to picnic. We gathered it all and started off to walk to the park, when I noticed that Dad hadn't followed. I turned around to look at him. I know my look said "Are you coming?" and he looked at me and smiled his charming Southern smile and said to me, "Ah, y'all can go on without me."

And I opened my eyes to the brand new year.

Subconsciousness

I had been saddled with the task of burying my father's body. His newly found will stated he wanted to be put in a special coffin and have it sunk to the bottom of the sea. The coffin was made of ship parts and where his head would lay was a submarine window.

The time had come where I had to put the body into the coffin. I didn't want to touch it, and it was horrible. I slid his body off the table into the coffin, and it slipped. I was going to have to actually touch the body to move it all the way into the coffin. I sat there, shaking, not wanting to do it.

And then he moved.

He started laughing, and stood up, and said "surprise!" He told me he had been faking his second death for 5 days, slowing his heart rate so everyone thought he was dead. He told me it was like a really long nap, which he needed since he faked his own death nearly a year ago. He paid someone to give my mom someone else's ashes, and he decided to go off and enjoy the world.

I couldn't believe it. I couldn't believe my dad was not only alive, but he had lied to us...twice! The emotion of everything that had just happened was overwhelming. I screamed at him "You try and fake your own death again and I will PERSONALLY light you on fire myself!"

He approached me to comfort me, and I saw his big stomach, his laughing eyes, his mustache, and I tried to hit him. I wanted to hurt him for hurting me so much, I tried to hit his stomach, and I completely lost energy by the time my fist got to him. I sank to the floor and started sobbing. Big, wracking sobs; the sobs I'd only experienced before when my grandma had a heart attack and I saw her scar and realized what mortality was.

It was the big sobs that broke through and woke up my husband. He shook me awake and I remembered it all. Then it hit me it was back to the beginning; he was dead. Not twice, just once. Next month will be a year since his death.

And I started to softly cry.

a 180 or a 360?

I've found lately that people expect me to be a completely different person. Last year when my dad died, I was sad. I'm still sad. It's not something you just get over. Especially since I lost the rest of my grandparents too, and that was the first time I've even had someone close to me die. In my life.

I'm still sort of processing. But it seems to some people, that I should be...well, "over it" already. People saying I don't seem "happy" to be there. Like they didn't know me before. I was never the type of person to "bounce" into a room, unless I had just drank 5 energy drinks. At Once.

I'm finding this "Life after Death" life somewhat strange. You are constantly assessing how you should be acting, making sure you aren't offending anyone. I've tried avoiding parties and functions with tons of people, because I'm just not sure how to react.

Mostly, I'm still me. I'm not really being different. But for some reason, I guess I should be acting like I just gave the world a Coke. Why do people think this way? I feel like everyone in the world gets to fall apart, but for some reason I'm just not allowed. Everyone gets a day off, except for me.

Original Reality

So, I discovered recently that The Real World was in D.C. this season. I imagined trips to the Smithsonian and maybe a group job at the Senate.

I know, I should've known better. As of this writing, they haven't gone anywhere except to bars. They have, however, brought up some ever so interesting personal habits.

I think this girl's name is Ashley, but man on man she is a hot mess. She is overly defensive and confrontational, and I get where she's coming from, but she doesn't understand where everyone else is coming from. She is such a contradiction, from going to church to screaming at people and saying she can't trust anyone because her mom told her she never wanted to see her again.

It makes me really think about when I was that angry, and I wonder if everyone thought I was immature and stupid when I thought I was being strong and bold.

All of the girls in the house are kind of a mess, if only because they back up this girl's anger. Don't get me wrong, I do see where this girl's coming from. I emphasize with her immensely. I still come off as a bitch sometimes in order to keep people at a distance. It's a defense mechanism that always works.

But she takes it to this amazing extreme that keeps me coming back week after week. Which, I guess, is why she was cast. I just hope she sees this show and it's a wake up call for her to drop the bitch act for awhile.

Fresh Panic

We handed in the keys for our apartment of five years on Saturday. We talked with the manager and she said we should expect a refund in the mail soon. Yesterday we got a bill in the mail.

We were expecting to lose the cleaning deposit. We'd been in there for 5 years, and even though we'd kept it as clean as possible, dirt happens. But we also had to put a deposit of $45 on a gate opener, and a $75 pet deposit. We were expecting at the very least, a check for that.

Lover Boy is going in to talk to them today, but last night it was still on my mind. I went to bed and was staring up at the ceiling. It was then I noticed how far away the ceiling actually was. How big our bedroom was. Suddenly a fresh wave of panic swept over me as I realized we were responsible for this whole big house.

No longer could we call the office if our shower-head was leaking. We didn't have a pool key. We had a huge house. What did we get ourselves into?

As suddenly as it came, it vanished. We did the right thing, and I was panicking because I thought we'd have to pay more money to the apartment, and had we stayed in the apartment, we wouldn't be dealing with it at all.

I've never been good with change. Technically, this most recent move was only my second in my lifetime.

But this is the first house where I've been able to pull my car into a garage. The first where I have to remember trash day, and I get to recycle without it being a huge pain in the ass.

I've already gotten so used to leaving my car unlocked in the garage that I actually found my car door wide open this morning. I was terrified I'd be late for work because the battery would be dead, but I was lucky.

I continue to be lucky. But after the last year, I think it's the least fate can do.

Man Up, and Be Ready to Be Hurt

Remember getting those survey notes in school as a kid?

Do you want to go out with me? Circle yes or no

When you are a child, the entire world is new and rejection is something you want to avoid at all costs. We believed that it would hurt much less in a note than it would be face to face.

Simply put, children are just that; children.

Adults should be old enough to take rejection face to face. Anyone who goes through a social networking site should be shot down immediately.

I recently got an email on a social networking site with the subject line "confidential" and the body of the email only consisted of a male asking me if he thought my friend would date him.

You know that old saying, "If you have to ask, the answer is no?" That's the kind of answer I wanted to give this guy. Not only was he not man enough to ask her himself, but he wanted a old high-school fallback in case he would get rejected.

Advise to the men, direct from a woman: A girl will never fall for a guy who likes to work with a net like that. Think of all the classic men that women fall in love with throughout the ages; The rebel who takes what he wants, and makes girls swoon...the romantic (think Edward Cullen from the stupid Twilight Series), might look lovingly, but won't be pussy enough to give you a note. Love letter, maybe. The list goes on.

The one guy who will send the note will send off the air of uncertainty, and insecurity. Who wants to go out with the geek who will never get any because he's too busy sending notes instead of impressing the girl?