Someone extremely misguided, or easily fooled, posted this in the comments under a previous entry:
Dear Trixie,
You have the holiday shopping guide, the training guide for thin hair on a budget, and many other guides if looked harder in your archives. How about a dating guide? I'd love to hear TheTrixie's opinion on what to wear, where to go, and what base is respectable for what date. You're a classy girl. Let's hear it.
God bless her. While it is true that I am a classy girl, I have great taste, I know a lot about fashion, shoes, beauty products, and have an ass you can bounce quarters off of, I'm no expert on dating. And it's really depressing to realize you're not an expert on something you've spent half of your life doing. The only guide I could give you is how to turn 33 at the end of yet another failed relationship.
I've never considered myself a blogger. I don't post about serious topics like politics, religion, global warming, etc. I don't write for any type of creative outlet. In fact, I know I'm no writer. I'm not my sister. I don't think I'm Carrie Bradshaw. And I don't want to be. I simply do this for fun. I enjoy the fact that there are a few people out there who think I'm funny. It entertains me. But just for this one moment, I'm going get all "blogger" on you in an attempt to clear my head. And you? You're just going to have to listen (or not), because this is my site, my party, and I can do what I want to.
Here we go...
I have shit fucking awful taste in men (feel free to use shit fucking awful, just give me credit). It's not for the usual reasons women have bad taste in men. My father is the shit (not to be confused with shit fucking awful). A day never goes by where I don't know just how much he loves me. He was, and is, always there, always supportive, and always loving. The reasons for my bad taste are quite different, and while I'm pretty sure I know what they are, I can't fix them. Nor am I going to tell you what they are because that's just a tad too "bloggish."
My girlfriends (God love them...seriously, they are wonderful) are doing what they're supposed to be doing for me right now. They're telling me it's not me, it's him. They're also saying that it wasn't me; it was the guy before him, and the guy before him, and the guy before him. He had issues, he was an asshole, he was an alcoholic, he was a lawyer, he was too shallow, he was an athlete, he was emotionally crippled, and he was a player. It's always him, right? But what's the common denominator here? It's me. The one thing all of these guys have in common is that I chose them.
The way I see it is that I can continue down my path of choosing the wrong men and then blaming them when it inevitably ends, or I can address why it is that I'm attracted to the wrong men in the first place. Or I can just say, "fuck it," because dating is impossible in this day and age anyway and get used to the fact that I'm never going to have the 2.5 kids (someone who knows her please go check on my Mom because I'm pretty sure she just passed out). The first and last choices are extremely lazy (yet also the most appealing right now), so I'm going to opt for the second choice. It'll be another birthday resolution (it's still technically my birthday since my party is Saturday night, and gah! that reminds me...I don't have shoes yet). I probably won't keep you posted on my progress because that's just way too blog for me.
Now I have to get serious about shoes for my party.
And...head is cleared.
Posted by TheTrixie at 8:56 PM