Commitment-Phobic or Enthusiastically Independent?

I was having a conversation with a friend of mine this past weekend about someone who used to be a friend of mine. This particular person is in a relationship with someone who thrives on drama. She is one of those people that if there’s no drama in her life, she will create drama. She’s perpetually in trouble and needs saving.

This friend has proposed to this drama queen. We think he’s insane. But I don’t think it’s insanity. I think it’s what I call a “Superman Complex”. He proposed to her because he realized that saving her would take a lifetime commitment. Personally, I think he should be committed, but he doesn’t listen to me. Can’t listen to me. But that’s a whole other story.

In fact, it was this conversation that prompted me to think of my own commitment issues. In the past, I’ve always thought it was a fear of commitment. Now, I’m not sure. I don’t think I’m commitment-phobic. I don’t think I’m scared. Recently, I had a good relationship going, and fear never set in.  I wasn’t afraid.

Maybe I was in the past. I can see how I’ve gotten close to guys in the past and pushed them away because I was afraid of getting hurt, but now it’s different.

Now, I think I’m commitment-resistant.

I thought of the person who I was very good friends with, who had to give up my friendship to stay in his relationship. I’ve been there. I was in a relationship very much like that.  I had to choose between my friends and my relationship. For a time, it was well known that if I chose to go out with my friends, I would be in the doghouse. It wasn’t an out and out, “If you choose your friends over me, I’m leaving”. It was, “If you choose your friends over me, I will give you hell.”

And it was hell everytime I made that choice. And I made it often. I’ve always been a little stubborn.

And when I made the choice to end that relationship, I felt a freedom that I don’t think I’d ever felt before. It was a freedom I still feel. I can go do as I please, talk to who I please, go where I please. The only people I answer to are myself, my son, and God.

And I don’t think I’m afraid of giving that up. I think I’m reluctant to give that up.

Maybe I’m relationship-reluctant.

Now, if someone told me I had to make a choice between my friends and a relationship, I’d say, “I’m sorry you feel that way. Have a nice life.”

I might feel sad for a few days. It’s always sad to end relationships, but it wouldn’t be long and I’d be back to being my normal indpendent self, reveling in single-dom. I’d be hanging out with my friends, going and doing as I please.

If I were a man living in the 1700 or 1800’s, (I’m not good with dates), I’d be what was called a “confirmed bachelor”. A guy who didn’t feel the need to take on a wife. He gambled, partied all night, hung out with his other confirmed bachelor friends. But it’s not the 1700 or 1800’s and I’m definitely not a man.

Maybe a new term could be “Certified Single”?

Or “Fortunately Foot-Loose”?

How about “Enthusiastically Independent”?

I’m not commitment-phobic, I’m enthusiastically independent.

I think I like the sound of that.

Hmmmm….there’s definitely some potential there with that term. 🙂

Until next time here’s a good website I found for those that are afraid of commitment….

Sooner 😉

Guys, Tattoos, and Anne Rice

It’s an awful truth that suffering can deepen us, give a greater luster to our colors, a richer resonance to our words. That is, if it doesn’t destroy us, if it doesn’t burn away the optimism and the spirit, the capacity for visions, and the respect for simple yet indispensable things.”

“Finally those you love are simply…those you love.”

–quotes from Lestat in Anne Rice’s Queen of the Damned.

As some of you know, I’m considering getting a tattoo next week in honor of my brother’s memory. I’ve been thinking about getting one for some time. At first, I wanted to get the Chinese symbol for life. A friend of Scott’s told us that he had planned to get that particular tattoo when he got back home from Iraq the last time. Unfortunately, he didn’t make it back that time. So, that was the tattoo I was going to get. Either the timing wasn’t right, or I didn’t have the extra funds to justify it, or one time both was right and I wasn’t right. I was sick.

When I started thinking about getting one, I immediately started asking people questions. When I bartended, if someone had a tattoo, I would ask, “What is it?” (One friend of mine has an awesome tribal tattoo). My second question was always, “Why did you get it?”, and the third, of course, “How bad did it hurt?”

The answer to the third always varied based on machismo and the body part the tat was applied to.

I don’t think that tattoos have the same stigma they had years ago. I remember when tatoos were something only the bad boys had. And if you were a girl with a tatoo, that was completely taboo. Even in my wild teenage years when I wore all black, had big multi-colored hair, ripped jeans, and anything else I could get away with, I NEVER considered a tattoo.

Maybe a bit of that wild teenager is still a part of me. That girl that so loved that bad boys, but I love a guy with a tattoo. Not too many of course, there can be tattoo overkill. If a guy has well-defined arms, and a tattoo highlighting those well-defined arms, my eyes glaze over. Great arms, a tattoo, and a great sense of  humor? I make the Homer Simpson noise. Add a British accent to all that, and I become a giddy school girl again. (There’s been some new and interesting additions to the D.J.’s regular crowd recently.)

Recently, I downloaded StumbleUpon after reading that this site was a great way to increase blog traffic. I am hooked. You select a list of interests, download the toolbar, and when you have free time, or are bored, click on the icon and it shows you websites based on your interests as rated by other members.

I, of course, chose books. Which brings me to the quotes I posted earlier. One of the sites I stumbled upon this morning was Literary Tattoos. I was impressed by what people chose.

“Delete the Adjectives” from the quote in To Kill A Mockingbird, “Atticus told me to delete the adjectives and I’d have the facts.”





“And the tree was happy.” from Shel Silverstein’s The Giving Tree.






“Mischief Managed” from Harry Potter.






“I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.”

– Sylvia Plath, The Journals of Sylvia Plath

What would I choose if I were to do a literary tattoo? It would be a toss-up between the two quotes I posted in the beginning. The first always stuck with me after Scott died. It always made me think, as long as I never gave up hope, I’d be okay. Changed, but okay.

The second, I found when looking for the first one. It’s simple and it’s true. The ones you love are the ones you love. And I am lucky to have the friends and family that this quote describes.

So, what tattoo am I getting? The Chinese symbol for Rooster. If I don’t chicken out before then. I have chosen two friends to go with me, friends that won’t baby me, who will in fact tell me to “Suck it up and just do it!” So, who knows, maybe this time next week, I’ll have a birthday hangover and a shiny new tattoo. 🙂

Until next time…..

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Do These Shoes Make Me Look Fat?



 One night a friend of mine told me that some people have “gravity”. They are the center of their own world and attract people to them for whatever reason.

I think this is true. I think this is what some call “charisma”. Some of us have it, some of us are attracted to it. It’s a magnetism. A presence.

I think it comes from knowing who we are and being self-confident and comfortable in our own skin.

An example, one night my friend, the same one who said I had “gravity” called me up to go out.  I actually dressed up, usually I only dress up on the weekends. I knew he would definitely not be in a t-shirt and jeans so I went the extra mile myself.

I have this pair of boots that I love. They’re black leather with a three inch hill. I’m 5’7. In three inch hills, I’m as tall as most men and taller than some. I feel incredible wearing these boots.

I wore these boots out that night.


The rest of my attire was modest, something I was comfortable in and felt good in.

We ended up in a club later. We were sitting there talking, laughing, having a good time, watching people. (I love to watch people.)

I watched some of the women, and I thought to myself, “They’re trying too hard.” The hair’s too big, there’s too much make-up, and for some, there were way too many body parts hanging out.

I have two words of advice for these women (and some men).


I was sitting there with the most attractive guy in the club. I was having a great time, and I was being myself.

I don’t worry about impressing people or wondering if my shoes, jeans, shirt, socks make me look fat. Well, most of the time. I have my moments of self-doubt. Which brings me to another point.

Later, when we were back at our normal spot. The bartender and I started talking about weight. I made the remark that I was trying to lose weight and one of the patrons told me “But, Alisha, you carry your weight well. You’re pleasantly plump.”

I was definitely outraged for a moment.

Plump my foot.

Some say I’m curvy in all the right places.

Which brings me to the whole point of this blog.

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

Some say Angelina Jolie is beautiful. I don’t think she is. I think Brad was crazy to leave Jennifer. Angelina’s lips are too big and she’s just weird. Some people would disagree with me.  Some people would argue that Jennifer’s too plain, or too girl-next-door.

You have to find your own beauty. If that makes sense. What matters is what YOU think of YOU. You can’t please everyone and you can’t be attractive to everyone.

The most important person to please is yourself.

And if wearing a great pair of boots makes you feel attractive, then by all means wear them.

And never wonder if they make you look fat. 🙂

Until next time……


No, not menopause.


I’m taking a break from men and from dating for now.

No, I’m not bashing men. I love men.

Most of my best friends are men.

Maybe it’s more dating-o-pause.

That just doesn’t sound as good. 🙂

I just want to take a step back and really think about what it is that I really want. I know what kind of man I want, but what kind of relationship do I want. My recent trip to relationship-land opened my eyes to a few potential problems I hadn’t really thought about. What kind of relationship do I want with the guy’s family? If he has children, what kind of relationship do I want with them?

I’ve always said I wanted to date a man with children. I have a child, well teen, actually, who’s fifteen. Fifteen and a half, if you ask him. I have no intentions of starting over and having more children. The choice whether or not to have children is one of those things you can’t really compromise with in a relationship, you either have them or you don’t. Dating a guy who already has children would bypass a potential relationship pitfall.

But, what kind of relationship would I want to have with the children? Would I want to be an active member in their lives? Would I want to go to Little League games? Would I want to baby-sit on days my guy has to work? Would I want to take them shopping, to the movies, to that hell called Chuck E. Cheese?

I never really thought about that.

That’s definitely giving me reason to pause.

And what kind of relationship would he want me to have with his children, and he with mine? Would he have the same ideas as I do? And if not, is he willing to compromise?

Good questions.

Definitely not something I thought about before.

And definitely something that I’m thinking about now.


Maybe I’ll ponder that one some more tomorrow. For now, I think I need a good long nap!

Until next time…….


The C-Word.


What is is about that word that strikes such fear in some hearts?

I know it strikes fear in mine, and I’m no coward. Well, I am scared of snakes and fireworks, but that’s a whole other issue.

I am a commitment-phobe. I’ll admit it. In my past relationships, a guy would start to mention the c-word, and I’d shush him up.

“Shhhh….We don’t say the C-Word.”

Saying the C-Word would send me running, and not necessarily into someone’s arms. More like running and screaming AWAY from someone’s arms and back to the safe cocoon I like to call single life.

Yeah, I know, some deplore single life. Not me, I revel in it. I love it. I’m able to go and do what I want when I want. I can hang out with who I want. Since 90% of my friends are single guys, (attractive single guys), hanging out with who I want can tend to become an issue in relationships. I can be a blanket hog, sleep sideways, if I want. Eat Chef Boyardee for dinner. I love being single.

I also get to avoid the dreaded C-Word.

Again, what is it about the C-Word that causes such fear?

I think it’s fear.

And the fear depends on the person who’s avoiding the C-Word.

Someone who’s been burned in relationships might be afraid of getting hurt again.

Someone who is like me and treasures their independence might be afraid of losing that part of them.  A friend of mine sent me a comment on the “That Don’t Impress Me Much” blog. The one where I mention the c-word and the guy runs off. That’s been a few months ago and that guy still hasn’t talked to me.  (Apparently, he’s commitment-phobic also. :)) In this comment, my friend brought up a good point. He said that as we get a bit older, we become more commitment-phobic because we’re afraid of what we’re going to have to give up. Are we going to have to give up our independence? Our space? What are we going to have to compromise on?

And I think that’s a very good point. As we get older, and I’m not THAT old, mind you, and as we’re single for awhile, I think we become sort of set in our ways. We have our little habits, our little routines.

For example, I love my morning silence. I write in the mornings, do a little reading, drink my coffee or tea; it’s MY time. Is that something I would have to give up or compromise on? And is that a reason to be commitment-phobic?

I think so.

I also have two guy friends who say they don’t want a relationship because they know how they are and they don’t want to hurt anyone. They know they’re in a place where they aren’t ready to offer anyone a relationship for personal or professional reasons.

Is that yet another reason for commitment-phobia?

Or is it simply an excuse?

I don’t know. I don’t have the answers. If I did, I’d be making the big bucks as a relationship therapist. Now that would be interesting. Me giving relationship advice? That’ll happen.

Speaking of which, why are all the books about finding a relationship? Where are the books about people like me? The people who relish single-dom and treat the c-word like a dirty word?

If you know of any, let me know. I’d love to read them.

If not, hmmmm….Maybe that’s my next writing project.

Until next time……


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FWB, Booty Calls, and Bed (Bugs) Buddies

“She’s not my lady
She’s just a girl on the side….”—-Travis Matte, “Booty Call”

I was reading through my old blogs yesterday, picking some to post on urbis to get some feedback. I’m thinking of putting a few together and submitting them to a magazine or putting a bunch of them together and trying to publish them in a collection.

As I was reading, I realized there’s really one type of relationship I hadn’t addressed yet.

The bed buddy

The friends with benefits (or FWB)

The booty call

While I was a member of, Yahoo Personals, and some of the other online dating sites (yes, I tried them all, I think), it was amazing to me how many guys were really looking for this kind of situation.  (If you need any feedback on dating sites, I’m your girl! I’m quite the expert!)

No committment, no responsibility, no emotional connection.


I’m not sure how many women are looking for the same thing.

I’ve had female friends tell me it’s a good thing, and some say that it’s a bad thing.

On one hand, I can see how it’s a good idea. One can live their life as they choose without having to answer to anyone. You can hang out with friends, go on dates with other guys, whatever. There’s no real emotional connection, so there’s no real chance of getting hurt. I think it’s a little like having your cake and eating it too.

The bad?

There’s no real emotional connection. And if there’s no emotional connection should you really be doing something like that at all? Is passion enough?

I don’t know.

I guess if I want to find out I can re-subscribe to the online personals and find out.


Yeah, right.

I might get something penicillin won’t get rid of.

And I’m allergic to penicillin anyway.

I’d have no chance whatsoever of finding someone with hives all over me and vomit in my hair.

Probably not a good idea for me.


Until next time……


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That Don’t Impress Me Much

 March 28, 2008

Ahhhh…I’m sitting here, enjoying a beautiful spring morning, drinking my favorite coffee. It’s a great start to the weekend.

And I’ve been dying to write this blog since yesterday afternoon. 🙂

Yesterday, I was fiddling with my computer, for some reason it wouldn’t connect to the internet, I could log onto Yahoo Messenger and MySpace Messenger, but not the internet.

While I was trying to figure all this out, a message window popped up. I’d talked to this guy a few times before, so I started having a conversation.

 Mom, you may not want to read this one

 We’ll call him Steve to protect his not-so-innocence.

 Steve asks me if I still have my man. (Last time we talked, I was persuing a relationship with someone.)

I reply no.

 “When are we going to hook up then?”

 Okay, I’ve been in the dating scene for awhile now, and “hooking up” is one of those phrases I’m not quite sure about. To me, the connotation has never been a good one. So I do ask him what that means.

 “Meeting for drinks.”

 Ahhh, okay. I can handle that.

I throw out a couple of ideas, then he asks me if we’re going to get lucky after a few drinks. Apparently, this affects where we’re meeting and when.

This is what I ask, “So tell me something. Does that really work with women?” (I figure this is a good time to do some research.)

 “Yes, most of the time.”

 I’m surprised at this, “And what kind of woman does this work on?”

 “Well, most women after they see the size of my package.”

 Hmmmmm. Okay. I try to wrap my mind around how this comes up in a conversation during drinks. Does he show up in a trenchcoat? Does he say “Excuse me while I whip this out?” and lay it on the table/bar like a cocktail weinie? (Sorry, I just couldn’t resist.)

I don’t get it.

I politely tell him that’s just not going to happen.

 “I can promise you, you won’t be disappointed.” he assures me.

 “Honey,” I tell him, “I’m already disappointed.”

 He doesn’t get it though. He is sure that I will be very interested in what’s between his legs.

I tell him, it’s not what between his legs that I’m interested in, it’s what’s between his ears. And a sense of humor, and a sense of respect, and a knowledge of how to treat women.

He tells me that he’s interested in all that too, but before he makes a commitment, he needs to be sure we’d be compatible.

Yeah right.

I tell him that I want a commitment and he logs off without even saying goodbye.

Hmmm…Apparently, the “C” word works on guys like this like garlic works on vampires and sends them running away.

I’ll have to remember that little tidbit. That’s good to know.

I may just throw that word around next time I’m talking to someone I’m not quite sure about.

How about, “Hmmm…I bet that project takes a lot of COMMITMENT.”?

Or, “It sounds like you’re really COMMITTED to golf.”?


Maybe I should be COMMITTED.

After this conversation, I posted a bit of this on my favorite advice website. I guess I just needed validation that there are gentlemen out there who know how to treat a lady. Luckily, many men responded positively. But it still made me think.

Is it a generational thing? This guy is in his twenties. Then I thought about two of my guy friends who are both 25. I can’t imagine either of them approaching a woman like that. Not that they wouldn’t make an innuendo or two, but never as blantant as this guy.

And then there’s guys in their thirties I’ve known who act this way. They’re a bit more subtle, but their motives are the same.

So apparently, it’s not an age thing. It’s a personality thing. And I can’t believe it actually works on women.

It sure didn’t work on me.

For now, I’m off to continue rearranging my furniture and cleaning my castle.

Here’s to Spring Breaks, weekends, and commitment!


I’m out!

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