Over the years, I’ve learned a few lessons that I believe are the serious truths in life. Most of these were learned the hard way, through shitty circumstances with terrible people and really awful outcomes.
Today, let’s talk the takeaways. The bottom line of all the fuckery I have allowed me to drag myself through:
Words Don’t Mean Shit
Listen, I know a couple of Fuckboys right now that could have you believing by your lunch break that they are marrying you by 4 o’clock tomorrow. I’m talking about, they’re so damned smooth, bitch, you’ll be right on down to JoAnn Crafts this evening buying the shit for your reception tables. These same Fuckboys are putting David Blaine to shame in that disappearing act. If all it is is words, then, baby that’s all it is.
Keep Your Own Money
They used to call it a kitty fund, or mad money, but all smart ladies (and men) over the years have had that fund. When it goes south, do you want to be stuck staring at the dude you caught with the titty dancer from your brother in laws bachelor party? I mean it’s one thing to be doing bumps off of your ass, but this is a whole different arena. I promise you, the 64 days left on that lease while you’re trying to get your funds together for your next honeycomb hideout are going to age you about 4.56 years. Trust me, I went from 27 to 31 overnight because of this very scenario, titty dancer and all.
If You Have To Check, It’s Already Over
Y’all know what I say about going through each others phones. If I ever had the need to go into a mans phone to search, I’m not searching. I’m going to his bank app, and sending myself the gas money to get out of this bullshit. Do not sit here and tell me that there is ever a good reason- there isn’t. All you’re really telling me is that you’re in a relationship that clearly isn’t working, because there is absolutely no trust. If you can’t believe him to the extent that you need to check his story via his phone, stop. Hit the banking app, the Circle K, then take your ass to the house because it’s over.
Really, Think About What The Fuck You’re Doing
I understand this isn’t dating in the 50’s out here. People have kids, ex-husbands (guilty as charged, x2), ex-wives, trilobal type uniships, whatever is passing for a relationship these days, that’s your business in your home. Understand though, that when you put that information out into the general public, people are going to have something to say about it. When your daughter goes into 2nd grade and tells Ms. Johnson that mommy has 2 Uncles that are married to mommy, this is already red alert time. Not everyone is going to subscribe to your lifestyle, and that’s okay too, but you better be ready to make a valid argument when your ex sues you for full custody for exposing your kids to a poly lifestyle. These aren’t my rules, honey, these are CPS and your red state courts, know where you are and what the community vibe feels like.
Cheating Is Gross
I think about cheating like this- my dogs just came in from the yard and tracked across my tile. Now, I’m going to lick the tile. Yeah, actually it’s pretty similar. You’re literally saying, “hey, whatever you just brought back with you, lemme check out what the flavor is today”. I find it vulgar, but you know, I have that whole OCD thing happening. Maybe other people are cool with strange people in their mouth. It’s just not really my ideal afternoon. I cannot think of a valid reason, not even a singular valid reason, to cheat. You can tell them anything you want as long as you tell them you’re seeing other people. The medium isn’t important either. I don’t care if you hire a skywriter, as long as the message is delivered. But, to betray someone you lay next to and lay naked next to someone else…I just believe that takes a different type of sinister, a type I just can’t be.
You Need To Know You
I often say, the 5 years that I spent alone between my marriages is the period I grew the most. I went some places, met some people, did some things, learned some shit. Ultimately, I wasn’t the same woman with Corey as I was with Tyler. And I’m not either of those women now. I know what is a dealbreaker, I know what I’ll let slide (nothing, ain’t no skating here). If you don’t know who you are, how in the fuck is anyone else supposed to know you. You can’t be in a serious relationship if you’re still waffling about the major points of what lends you your substance. Like, become an accountant or an engineer is one thing, but your feelings on marriage, children, and the real values that make you who you are, those are things you should know long before you’re trying to commit to someone else.
I know soooo many women who never, and I mean never, have gone without a man, and they always have a backup man, too. They need to learn about themselves before spraying their drama all over the place. I just cleaned these floors.