Restaurant Road Kill
The topic of Mr. Big got me thinking about the men in my life. Sadly — tragically, I haven't been a very good picker. I wish I had someone like Patti, from the Millionaire Matchmaker, to find me a solid guy, millions not required or, even preferred, for that matter. We all know there are defining moments in our lives regarding different aspects. A defining moment for me was deciding whether or not to continue to let the Cracked Eggs in Eggland continue to abuse me and my talents. Result: I walked out, traveled extensively and changed my life forever. Defining moment.
Yesterday, during my run, I got to thinking about my horrid choice in men and, of course, a scene from my life produced as art, popped into my mind, over and over again: (So, tis not actually my life but it's running a painfully close parallel.)
The first time I saw that, I cried. Tis true. When there's no one but you, you have no choice but to dig deep and find the courage to move forward. In the clip, you see Carrie bust her ass on a New York Fashion Week runway. What you didn't see: Her nerves were shot after being told she would sport undies instead of a dress, so she indulged on the free liquid courage. What you also didn't see was her braggadocious nature proclaiming the higher her stilettos, the better.
Not one to beg off a pair of 4-inch, come-hither pumps myself (I bought these
last week to celebrate my birthday), I can relate. In 2006, which was not a banner year by any standard, I went to dinner at a favorite spot, Bonefish Grille, with the then-current man in my life. Alert: 2006 low-point up head. I was sporting a pair of strappy stilettos that require weekly pedicures and daily pumicing. Girls, you know the ones.
When we got to Bonefish, I was horrified to realize the dining room floor was a marbled, polished perfection. I told myself to take it slow and walk on the balls of my feet. Fine. Now, here comes the I-should-take-this-to-my-grave-part. After dinner, we got up to leave and it's still all good. He heads out in front; first problem. I took about 10 steps, if that, when the next thing I knew, I was having polished marble floor for dessert! Legs went flying up, purse was spilled all over the place and I had this purely stunned look on my face that read: What. The. Fuck. And, I hadn't been drinking.
(Insert laughter and applause, here. Thank ya. Thank ya, very much.)
Luckily enough for me, we had dinner late so there was only one table of people left in the dining room. They looked at me as if I landed there from outer space. Surely, they'd seen more of me and my thong than either party planned. I started to collect myself and realized, soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend was heading out the door. He left! The people felt so bad, they asked if I needed help getting up. Unlike Carrie, my girls weren't seated in the gallery giving me the courage. I had to find it within.
(Insert India.Arie song, here.)
Somehow, I did. I got the fuck up without shedding one tear. The Spanish-version of the above clip says: When real women fall, they get back up. That's right. Upon getting upright, that fucker reappeared asking, "I was wondering what happened to you?" And, yes, he had a smug look on his face.
Someone once told me, it is never good form to tell people what you deserve. But I can tell people what I expect. I expect to have the sort of man in my life who will never let me fall because when I slip, he's right by my side to, yes, catch me. Period. There are no exceptions. And, whether I deserve it or not, is irrelevant. That's the deal.
So when you're sitting there wondering why I don't jump at your calls, I don't care if you wish me a Happy Birthday, answer your e-mails or respond to your voicemails, there's a simple answer: You are not that kind of guy and I don't need or want you.
Until the time comes, I will continue to wipe the floor with my mistakes, pick myself back up and wear my version of the glass slipper. I thank heaven for my defining moments. It doesn't matter whether I'm telling management where to go or picking my exposed arse off of a restaurant floor. Because of these split seconds, I know what makes me. Tis the glory of living single.
Yesterday, during my run, I got to thinking about my horrid choice in men and, of course, a scene from my life produced as art, popped into my mind, over and over again: (So, tis not actually my life but it's running a painfully close parallel.)
The first time I saw that, I cried. Tis true. When there's no one but you, you have no choice but to dig deep and find the courage to move forward. In the clip, you see Carrie bust her ass on a New York Fashion Week runway. What you didn't see: Her nerves were shot after being told she would sport undies instead of a dress, so she indulged on the free liquid courage. What you also didn't see was her braggadocious nature proclaiming the higher her stilettos, the better.
Not one to beg off a pair of 4-inch, come-hither pumps myself (I bought these
When we got to Bonefish, I was horrified to realize the dining room floor was a marbled, polished perfection. I told myself to take it slow and walk on the balls of my feet. Fine. Now, here comes the I-should-take-this-to-my-grave-part. After dinner, we got up to leave and it's still all good. He heads out in front; first problem. I took about 10 steps, if that, when the next thing I knew, I was having polished marble floor for dessert! Legs went flying up, purse was spilled all over the place and I had this purely stunned look on my face that read: What. The. Fuck. And, I hadn't been drinking.
(Insert laughter and applause, here. Thank ya. Thank ya, very much.)
Luckily enough for me, we had dinner late so there was only one table of people left in the dining room. They looked at me as if I landed there from outer space. Surely, they'd seen more of me and my thong than either party planned. I started to collect myself and realized, soon-to-be-ex-boyfriend was heading out the door. He left! The people felt so bad, they asked if I needed help getting up. Unlike Carrie, my girls weren't seated in the gallery giving me the courage. I had to find it within.
(Insert India.Arie song, here.)
Somehow, I did. I got the fuck up without shedding one tear. The Spanish-version of the above clip says: When real women fall, they get back up. That's right. Upon getting upright, that fucker reappeared asking, "I was wondering what happened to you?" And, yes, he had a smug look on his face.
Someone once told me, it is never good form to tell people what you deserve. But I can tell people what I expect. I expect to have the sort of man in my life who will never let me fall because when I slip, he's right by my side to, yes, catch me. Period. There are no exceptions. And, whether I deserve it or not, is irrelevant. That's the deal.
So when you're sitting there wondering why I don't jump at your calls, I don't care if you wish me a Happy Birthday, answer your e-mails or respond to your voicemails, there's a simple answer: You are not that kind of guy and I don't need or want you.
Until the time comes, I will continue to wipe the floor with my mistakes, pick myself back up and wear my version of the glass slipper. I thank heaven for my defining moments. It doesn't matter whether I'm telling management where to go or picking my exposed arse off of a restaurant floor. Because of these split seconds, I know what makes me. Tis the glory of living single.







With subject matter and writing like this, your blog should have a much wider readership. Keep your eye on the prize and keep moving. Forwards or backwards just keep moving. You are a force of nature. And you speak for a lot of women. Now I've never worn stilettos, but I have my own stories of insult and subsequent learning. Holding out for real love and respect is essential. It took me until I was 44 to find a man who faces me as an equal and who catches me when I fall -- time after time. There's always some catch when you find true love. Some obstacle that presents itself. Mine was age. My guy is 11 years younger. But we are still together 11 years after our first magical encounter. Keep the faith.
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Brilliant! I think you're a better person for learning to stand on your stilettos unassisted.
I guess we all wish that we had someone there to catch us should be fall, but it takes amazing strength of character to say that you can get back up yourself, thank you very much.
Love the blog, love the 'Girl Power' attitude, but most of all....LOVE the shoes! Where are they from? x
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Awww, thanks for the compliments, Linda B!
I love the fact you didn't settle and were rewarded with a younger man. FAN-tastic! Such an inspiration. It's amazing, I subjected myself to someone who was incapable of empathy, only apathy. I'm afraid it's his loss and I hope he still feels it. Speaking of catches, mine will probably be shorter than me or the same height, so when I wear my beloved shoes, I tower over him. Wait a sec, been there and done that. So who knows what he'll be like. Can't wait to find out.
Thanks for reading and taking the time to comment. Do come back.
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K-Ryd, send all shoe compliments care of Jessica Simpson! AND, I got them at a 70-percent off, Labor Day sale! So they were once over $100 and well, I was (and am) ecstatic!
Yes, I think we all yearn for that special someone but, I concur, it's better to be on your own first, so you both share a genuine appreciation for the one who struts into your life in 4-inch heels or flats!!
Girl Power = Femme Fatale!
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Jessica Simpson! Well I never! Good for her, even better for you!! This 'being on your own' stuff rocks, I'm enjoying it much more than I expected to.
I'm hearing you on the heels issue, too. How tall are you? I'm 5'8" and have the same problem whenever I put my party heels on. Always towering over the guys! Ah well, they'd better get used to it :o)
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You know, I was overseas when she launched the bulk of her line, so I, too, was pleasantly surprised by the look and quality of her shoe.
Was 07 that long ago? We really need to hang out again. I'm 6' without any stiletto help. Which is why 6'8" Mr. Big was a dream come true. I could have him AND the shoes! *sigh* Oh well. Hopefully, other jolly black giant will surface.
As for towering over men, I really don't care. It's the men who care.
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Loislane: I find that your editorials bring home lots of edifying, illuminating truths, in which all of the female community could hugely benefit from. Most times, in our struggles with the opposite sex we don't share enough because we experience shame or some other emotional feeling; tied to pride. We keep things in and the outcome is hurt!
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Woman,
Thanks for reading. I know what you mean. I told no one about what happened until writing about it here. Writing is a way of helping me purge and work through things in my life but,sometimes, it takes a while for the right perspective on any given situation to come to light. I warn: Am thinking about writing about family drama, so no one's safe!
Thanks for stopping by and sharing your thoughts.
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You made made day today, just the way you expressed that incident, made me laugh so hard, i am so sorry because i imagine it was not funny at the time. But i needed to laugh today. Thanks for sharing from the heart Ailenka
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Wesley,
Go ahead and laugh. Tis quite alright with me. I attempted to laugh it off in front of the table full of onlookers and succeeded at the time. However, the full weight of the situation never really escaped me.
Glad to be of service this fine day. Think about it often as a quicker-picker-upper!
Anytime.
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I can so relate to the part of he should have been there to never let you fall. I am in total agreement about not jumping at phone calls and emails, the problem for me is I am hard at responding to any emiails
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Hey DJ,
Tis universally relatable. I don't think there's anything wrong with asking someone to be there next to you, instead of leaving you behind. I mean, guys always want us to have their backs, right? I'm down for that.
I just can't get excited by anyone who has this history or potential to be this way. For all my failures, I see the signs.
Thanks for taking the time to stop by. Enjoy the awards!
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