Baggage Claim

Ladies (and gentlemen, to be equal opportunity), let’s have a heart to heart.

Even if your relationship baggage is the Louis Vuitton Pegase collection, I can assure you, it ain’t cute.

I speak from a place of love and firsthand understanding, not judgment. I mean, if you’re going on a picnic, you just need one basket and a blanket. Don’t go dragging a shit ton of luggage, struggling to carry it all and asking for your love to help you yank them over rocky patches and hills on your way to the picnic. Talk about a buzzkill.


I’ll be the first to admit, it’s hard not to have your past experiences pop up and flash in your face as your new relationship grows and develops. We’ve all got uglies that influence how we react to things, and we’ve got the instincts to expect what we’ve come to know as “relationship reality”.

If things are great, many of us wait for the other shoe to drop. If you’ve been cheated on, your damaged heart waits stealthily in the shadows for the moment the new guy’s eyes linger a little too long on someone or the night his phone dies to declare an “I told you so!”. You’re just gonna have to learn to “shush” that little fucker. The damaged piece isn’t the whole heart–it’s just a small piece.

I’ve talked to countless friends who trudge forward into a new boo situation armed with an arsenal. And I watch them blow it and create a culture in their new chapter that sets the foundation for failure.

I did it recently, and caught myself immediately.

My first instinct is to challenge the shit out of the new contender and find out just how much of a strongman he is. I wait for that “thing” I’ve been trained to respond to, and it’s the dumbest thing anyone can do in a relationship. When a challenge arises, the first thing I want to throw out is the damning question “Ok, so do you want out?”.

Just typing that makes me want to walk over to my full-length mirror, look myself in the eyes, and say “Really, Jen??”.

When a noteworthy, but certainly extinguishable small situational life fire emerged recently, I was directly discussing the matter with The Game Changer. The invitation to exit jumped to my lips and I had to take a beat and shut it down. Instead, I did the very thing someone with an actual beating heart and a soul that isn’t completely black would do: I jumped in and soldiered up to pledge my alliance in shutting down the situation.

I’m smart enough (now) to know what I don’t want to lose over something so trivial.

Ladies, if he wants out, he’ll be out. You won’t find yourself needing to open the door, because he’ll open it himself. What I can say is asking that question is the equivalent of opening it and letting the cold breeze wash over him.

If you’ve got someone standing in front of you who has the potential to make you happy, take the chance to find out what’s in the cards. Let yourself romantically go a little, and tell your bitter little damaged devil sitting on the upper right corner of your heart to STFU.

"It should take you exactly four seconds to cross from here to that door. I'll give you two. "  --Holly Golightly, Breakfast at Tiffany's

“It should take you exactly four seconds to cross from here to that door. I’ll give you two.” –Holly Golightly, Breakfast at Tiffany’s

Don’t let the negative words, or challenges to love for that matter, leave your lips. Even if you get past having said them, once they’re out, they’re just little pebbles you set on your new guy’s shoulders. Over time, these become as heavy as big rocks, and no quality man is going to bear that weight for too long.

I’m a little more direct than most with that little bastard inside that tries to ninja slice my joy, but you’re welcome to use my technique. As soon as a negative thought or slimeball statement pops up and tries to get launched into the atmosphere via your mouth, swallow it down and find the opposite stance on the matter.

Skip those pebbles out onto the water and then turn around and hug the person standing next to you on the beach. Don’t worry about tomorrow or six months from now. Enjoy what’s there today.

Chances are, you’re not giving him the credit he deserves.

Shoutout to Dena, my cupid-fearing sister from another mister. I see you, girl. 😉


How You Get The Girl

So first, hello everyone.

It’s been a long time since we talked, and I’ve got a monstrous stash of material to spill onto these pages to make you laugh, sigh, die of embarrassment with me, and even maybe feel like you just listened to Drake for 72 hours straight and are all in your feelings.

But first, I’d like to set the tone with my return to this blog. I’ve been brought back to blog-life with some exciting new things, and a special someone, and am ready to spill my guts. I’ve still got the ninja tendencies, but I’m hoping to grow past them and take you along for the ride.

I mean, if I can write a book about Love, Loss, & What I Drank, I can certainly write a book about winning at love, right?

To be clear, and to call a “cease fire” to the questions, I am, in fact, still single.

Whether or not this new someone is around for the long haul (which I truly hope is the case), I’m poised and ready to be a little less of a cactus and a lot more of an orchid.

So all I wanna know is, who’s comin’ with me?


I know I’ve got a long road ahead, and the progress I’ve made in just a few short months is more than I cumulatively made from 2010-2014, so I’m super damn good with it.

Over the next few weeks, I’ll help you play catch up. Here’s the main players you’ll be hearing about. You can call this a teaser if you’d like, but I encourage you to view it as an appetizer. Because your emails & tweets have been telling me to get some shit cooking already. And it’s dinnertime, bitches.

Mr. Right Now
You know I’m not a ho, and I don’t at all do “flings”. I played around with a “flirtationship” and had a fun and captivating someone that was more than a guest character. For over five years, he was in and out of a revolving door. We served as a dynamic and hot pair. Love was never spinning on the turntables for us, but a bond was forged that anyone would be lucky to have. Chemistry. Fire. An organic connection.

The Beautiful Baby
One night at work, the most beautiful man stopped me in my tracks. Our instant chemistry was so incredibly palpable, and everyone around us stopped in their tracks and took notice. It was quite a buzz, and an incredibly exciting roller coaster that ended in one of the most abrupt and memorable of ways. I’ll drop a confession about my underlying adoration of men with powerful presences, and the accompanying penchant for inevitable douchebaggery that is the occasional side-effect of these types. You’ll not want to miss that post.

The Fuckboys
This is plural for a reason. I met a series of Sams since I last spilled my guts to you, and they all get grouped together because they all belonged to the Fuckboy Alliance. So many laughs, so many scowls, and even more “you gotta be kidding me”s are on deck here. And, true to my style, none of ’em got any of me.

The Game Changer
The newest to emerge is the one that got me ready to blog again. I’ll puke in my mouth if I actually type how I feel about this one right now, but I’ll tell you this: he’s the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me. Even if he goes away (and I hope he doesn’t), the change he has inspired is long overdue and wonderful. And I’m just another follower of this story like you–I’m waiting to see what develops. But the tone and underlying theme that this blog is about to take on will at least be inspired by–if not changed by–him and everything he gives to me. Which includes butterflies, but mostly some inspiration to bring you along on the journey to being in the happy place instead of the cynical Shaolin stance.

I’ve got some drafts to edit, and some things to align to make sure you’re getting nothing but filet mignon from me, so, true to tradition, I’ll leave you with a song.

This song, and technically speaking, this video, are a pretty accurate representation of how anything of value which is romantically related goes down in my world. I mean, before the blogworthy stuff happens.

Love Séances

Sometimes, we try to bring love back from the dead.

We hold a cell phone séance, calling or texting the other half of our dead relationship.  We send emails.  Letters.  Facebook friend requests.

I say “we” because I’ve done the shit, too.

In the face of relationship change, we often reflect on what’s behind us.  It’s normal, and even healthy, to look back on past love and think about how it ended, what we did wrong (or didn’t do), and what could’ve gone differently.  Sometimes it’s hard because you feel like it’s possible you could’ve made it work.  They could be the one and you’re passing them by.  I’ve ended relationships because as time went on, I knew I didn’t love the current as much as I loved the last.

But staying focused on the rearview mirror, like holding séances and playing with Ouija boards, is either A) Going to get you nowhere or B) Going to conjure up some dark spirits.

Don’t play with the dead.  There’s so much that is alive and fresh and new, not dead and decaying.

It’s hard when you face new love, or worse…no love, and you still are holding onto connections with a past love (or loves).  You have to remember that every tie you keep to old love is like a tiny force pulling you back and keeping you from moving forward full-speed-ahead.

Cut the ties tonight.  Let them go.

In the end, the things ahead of you are new, fresh, and full of life.

Pull the Ouija board planchette to “Goodbye” and throw the box in the trash.  It’s a brand new day in the land of the living.