Cleo's Dating Blog

Posts Tagged ‘Life

They say that your 20’s is when you go through a lot of changes. Some get married and have children, others learn independence and strength through living alone. As a participant of the latter, I for one am pleased with my arrival at age 25.

When I think back to my early 20’s, I can vividly remember how frustrated I used to get when driving in traffic. Everyday I would literally picture myself with a sharp knife repeatedly stabbing someone in the chest (not that I would actually do it!). I hated everyone on the road and their stupid bumper stickers.

With age, I have learned some patience. I accept traffic as part of my life and remain calm as a result. I know to take the necessary precautions beforehand- have a snack, grab some coffee, pee before leaving- so that my frustration does not escalate to where I am no longer in control.

My friends now may not agree because they did not know the “college me”, but I have also (slowly) learned to limit my alcohol consumption. School was a time when I did not drink to be social, I drank to be wasted. Transitioning to a time in my life where that is no longer the norm has been a challenge. However, after the fiasco of my 25th birthday and the miserable day following, the need to be completely out of control has ran away with my dignity. Good thing I have the rest of my 20’s to find it!

Consequently, my slightly higher level of coherence has made me more aware of the beauty around me. When is the last time you appreciated the warmth of the sun on your face? Do you take an extra moment to fully enjoy a hug from a good friend?

I spent this past weekend in Santa Barbara and it was as though the beauty of life slapped me across the face. “Wake up and realize how gorgeous your life is!” she said. Boohoo if you’re single and you’re starting to get those tiny little veins on your legs from standing too much. Those are minuscule details compared to all of your other blessings.

It is easy to get caught up in schedules, budgeting, career paths, boyfriends, and weight management. Until you open your eyes and see how beautiful this frickin tree is…

You do not have to start being annoyingly optimistic, but curbing the complaining would not hurt either. The only secret to living is to enjoy the moment found within right now and using the senses that God gave you to be stimulated. Feel the wind, anxious butterflies, and crazy love.

Although a challenge everyday, I am taking life for what it is (gorgeous) and dating for what it is (kinda sucky), but being grateful that I am exactly where I am meant to be today. The future is still going to happen and I need not worry.

Speaking of today, Happy Halloween and I look forward to seeing all the slutty pictures on Facebook tomorrow.

Be safe and go easy on the sweets,

Cleo

I went to Whole Foods last night to get chicken noodle soup for my cute, little, sicky roommate. What was left was mostly broth so I played the damsel-in-distress card and asked them for a fresh batch. To my surprise, it comes pre-made! No wonder the recipe never took my breath away.

As I struggled to scoop the excessively long noodles out of the metal tin with a spoon (impossible!), my eyes gazed up and locked with Mr. Whole Foods Employee. Dark hair, dark eyes. Just how I like it! I could feel him focus on me from across the counter. Even though I was not sure why since I had wet hair and was wearing my least best outfit of the week and even though I am not typically attracted to the staff of grocery stores, I decided to ignore those thoughts and embrace the mutual energy.

Continuing to splash noodles all over myself, I turn to notice that dark-eyes has moved from the opposite end of the counter to the side closest to me. How ironic. As he helps an older woman wearing a fuchsia sweater, he strategically drops an empty sample cup right next to my foot. I smile, pick it up for him, and as our hands touch there was a spontaneous lightening storm inside the store. He says, “thank you” and I turn away.

Here comes the point when a decision must be made. Do I push through the initial moment of contact and progress to the next level or do I let it sweetly linger to be potentially continued later?

I went through a phase last year when I always pushed forward. I considered it “being brave”, and it was. I took risks and rushed moments. I tried to rapidly propel the growth of feelings and attraction.

Although a whirlwind of excitement, there is something to be said of interactions that progress organically. Taking one sweet moment at a time extends the life of each and we all know that these moments tend to be few and far between. The risk here is that a future encounter is not guaranteed.

Last night I chose organic. Small steps. Nothing may ever happen, but today my spirits are just slightly higher.

Often we try to create what we want out of something before it is ready. We lose some patience because we are all so anxious to get our hands around our dreams. I am totally guilty of this more times than I realize.

How organic are you? How much do you let life lead you?

Sometimes the best thing we can do is to just enjoy the ride.

Turns out that the most organic thing at Whole Foods is the staff.

Sincerely yours,

Cleo

People say this to me often.

“Why don’t you have a boyfriend?” What tends to follow is, “Just lower your standards a little.”

If I could lower my standards and be happy, don’t you think that I would just do it already? It’s not like I am trying to win a contest of who can stay single the longest. I would love to have someone that could watch movies with me and play with my hair.

For those of you that have known me for many years, you know that I have not always had high standards. I used to have lots of boyfriends because I would only look for a few, key qualities and ignore the rest. Usually if a guy was nice and treated me well, then that was enough.

My ability to ignore things has drastically decreased. I can no longer date men that play video games all day, drink themselves to a mushy physique, smell bad, have yellow teeth, embarrass themselves in public, cry a lot, dress like it’s still the 90’s, smoke a lot of “medicine”, have a different personality around friends, have small hands, do not like to cuddle, think driving really fast is cool, have a dry sense of humor, or have nothing interesting to say (these are all true).

I have lowered my standards before, but having the wrong boyfriend is worse than being single and lonely. When single, I spend my time thinking of ways to improve my life. Although occasionally rough for a person like me that loves companionship and the idea of love, at least I know I am improving. When I do not fully adore my boyfriend, my time is spent trying to convince myself that I am happy or that I have enough patience…or else I am thinking of the most strategic ways in which to end the relationship. Sad, I know.

I guess I am at that annoying stage in my life that middle-aged people always tell me to cherish. “I wish I had enjoyed my 20’s more!” Alright, but your 20’s kind of suck when you have no proven career, no authority in the workplace, no family, no money, no beach house, no swimming pool in your backyard, no nanny, and so many distractions. The opportunities are beautiful and boundless, but it is such a waiting game to see which ones will flourish and which ones will crash. One step at a time and hopefully 30 years from now I won’t regret anything major…

Chat soon,

Cleo

 

Sometimes I feel like a big Loser (note the capital letter).

I get caught up in country songs and try to apply them to my life. I want a Prince Charming of my own and I want him to have a big “horse.” I believe you could love me because I am the perfect mix of spicy and sweet. I give second and eighth chances because some people just need more time. And I really mean it when I say I miss you, so it extra sucks when you do not feel the same way.

I feel like a loser because so far my track record is full of endings! Oops! I look forward to things like napping, chai tea lattes, and a good cry. L-O-S-E-R.

But when I look at myself in the mirror, all those feelings melt away. And then it all comes rushing back to me and I remember how smart and successful and fun I am. So obviously I am not the loser, all those other men are!

For some reason I have never been afraid of the “L” (as in Love) word. If it is something I feel, then I am more afraid of not saying it. I can usually handle the rejection because I have so much love to give that my love now is most likely not my last. Unfortunately most people are not this way, so I guess I am a little bit scary! Loser times two.

However, I can not help but wonder if maybe I am just dating the wrong gender. I am pretty sure that my expressions of love and sweet gestures would sweep any lady off of her feet and we could listen to Brad Paisley together and buy “horses” together and talk about feelings and menstruation.

So maybe I am just a Loser because I am not in Love with a Lesbian?

(As a side note, I am fully aware that this post may scare off all men and I am okay with that.)

Do not stop fighting for love ladies and gents because if you do, my chances of finding it are much lower.

Thank you,

Cleo

I spend more time with myself that anyone else. In getting to know me, I have learned that I am a naturally happy person that instinctively reacts negatively to most everything.

I am not sure exactly why this is. I may have been conditioned this way as a child or maybe a strand of my dna is wired differently. Nonetheless, my fulcrum is heavily skewed to the negative despite my inability to wipe this smile off my face. Quite a strange combination.

I am not good at accepting compliments. I tend to think that most people are not genuine and/or have a secret agenda.

I believe most people want to see me fail.

Although actions may speak louder than words, actions alone are not enough to convince me of anything.

I have little faith in life running according to plan (so I try not to plan).

I believe that unhappy people are common and hurt other people, whether intentional or not.

The majority of people do not know themselves well enough.

I do not believe that all my dreams will come true.

I have to look really hard to see love around me.

Criticism resonates with me much more than encouragement.

Pain can scare anyone and people’s actions when scared are often unpredictable. However, those who do nothing that scares them are not people I am interested in knowing.

When you hurt me or make me angry, I want to slap you with my concise vocabulary and way of speaking. I want to make you immediately regret messing with me. I want to boss you around and make you submit.

The strange thing about all this is that it is just perspective. None of this is fact or justifiable as truth. Is it possible that I want to see the bad?

I would be interested in knowing what the grass is like on the other side. What does it feel like to naturally react positively? Sounds like it would take a lot of effort, but if your perspective can change your outcome, it may be worth it after all.

Rainbows, unicorns, true love, mariposas,and calorie-free,

Cleo

Don’t let alcohol make you an accidental mommy. Happy belated Mother’s Day! x

Luv,

Cleo

Inspired by a recent horrific date encounter, the following is a list of things a man should never say to a woman, especially upon first meeting her! All phrases are true and come from personal, first-hand experience.

1. “I could find 50 girls in this bar to sleep with.” (gross)

2. “I’m really good at making girls feel comfortable enough to have a one night stand.” (douche bag)

3. “I had a bad experience with going down on a girl before, so I don’t do it anymore.” (selfish)

4. “My ex-girlfriend and I did every sexual thing imaginable.” (baggage)

5. “This is a picture of my ex, isn’t she pretty?” (wtf?)

6. “I haven’t been tested for std’s in a couple years.” (never touching you)

7. “You’re a prude.” (I just don’t like you)

8. “Three drinks is not a lot. Have one more.” (still not sleeping with you)

9. “I don’t like wearing condoms.” (ever?!)

10. “I can tell you orgasm nicely just by looking at you.” (who are you??)

11. “I don’t believe in marriage.” (wait until you’re bald and fat)

12. “My girlfriend doesn’t know that I have a crush on you.” (then stop)

14. “Why didn’t you answer my last 7 texts?” (leave me alone)

15. “I think your friend is a catch.” (then date her instead)

16. “Send me a picture of your toes.” (no)

17. “I’ve slept with more people than you and your roommate combined, times two.” (I wouldn’t tell anyone else that)

18. “I have gotten my last 4 girlfriends pregnant.” (are you serious??)

19. “Sex should happen first to determine if we have chemistry.” (now I know that we don’t)

20. “I can’t believe you are with me. You are going to break my heart one day.”  (grow some balls)

If anything similar has been said to you, than you know how I feel. This free speech thing we celebrate sure leaves room for endless possibilities.

Striving for the best,

Cleo

 

My Monday had the potential to be horrible because I burnt my tongue on my tea last night and still can not taste food.

OR… I could focus on the nice weather and how I was not cold when I went outside today. Or smile at how many good friends I got to spend time with. Or be relieved at how many calories I burned in spin class tonight.

If none of these great things happened for you, maybe you can be happy that I have a new video out!

Happy Monday,

Cleo

 

We haven’t met yet,

but if feels like I know you.

–//–

I could try to imagine what it would feel like,

to shake your hand,

to lock eyes with you,

to share your space,

but I don’t want to if it’s not real,

if I can not reach out and touch you.

–//–

It feels like I am already so deeply in love with you,

but I don’t even know what a love like that feels like.

–//–

I try not to think about love,

because I don’t know what your face looks like,

or what color your eyes are,

or how you act when you get angry,

or how you breathe when you sleep.

–//–

All I do know is that I’m not going to waste time on someone that is not you.

I am happier alone than with someone else.

You are my someone else.

–//–

So until that day comes,

when my heart softens,

and my life changes,

I will stay put.

Independent,

and a little cold.

xx,

Cleo

I am participating in a short story contest and honestly, I don’t even know what the prize is. I just wanted something to motivate me to write more creative fiction.

The contest is hosted by NYC Midnight and it is their 6th Annual Short Story Challenge. The challenge includes three rounds where each time you are given a prompt and time limit.

The first round just ended so I am sharing my story with you. Hopefully I make it to the next round! Let me know what you think :).

I was assigned to write a story with the genre of sci-fi, character of a babysitter, and event of a sale. Here goes!

Love,

Cleo

The Adventures of Big Mac Girl

A young girl unknowingly finds herself in the middle of a wild science experiment as an older man capitalizes on her insecurities. 

________________________________

They called her Big Mac girl. The truth was, she did not even like hamburgers, let alone McDonald’s. Unfortunately, the thing about bullying is that it need not be factual.

Every day she would come home from school and find remnants of melted cheddar cheese and Thousand Island dressing in her backpack. It made studying a sticky struggle and smiling an even greater one. “Where did these girls find the time for such ridiculing?” she wondered.

Yes, she was overweight. Some would even say she was extremely overweight. Growing up in a large family of large people, eating delicious food was what bonded the Bigg’s clan together. Fried chicken, lamb chops, spaghetti and meatballs, mashed potatoes, three-cheese baked mac and cheese, and blueberry pancakes were common dishes consumed before a day’s end.

“Mom, can I ask you something?” she inquired, while her mother stirred the lamb stew.

“You mean may you ask me something?” her mother replied.

“Yes, may I. May I go to a different school?”

Her mother stopped stirring and looked up at her daughter. With eight children, it was easy to overlook how fast each one was growing and how quickly they were finding their own identities.

“What’s wrong with the school you go to now?” her mother asked.

“I get bullied by everyone! I am called the worst names and am constantly cleaning condiments out of my belongings. Next year I will be in 8th grade and I want a fresh start. It’s not fair.” She spoke with a conviction her mother had never seen before.

“Sweetheart, anyone that makes fun of you is just jealous of the close-knit family you have. Their opinion doesn’t matter! The only other school in the area is that snooty, all-girls academy and I wouldn’t send you there even if we could afford it.” Although she knew her mother loved her very much, she was also very stubborn. This discussion was over, for the time being. “Now, eat your potatoes.”

One of the only things that made her forget about her lack of friends, lack of respect, and lack of a desirable physique was her physics class. She loved the complexity of the subject, the thrill of solving unknown variables, and how most kids in her class could not grasp the concepts. Plus, it did not hurt that Mr. Watson was the most charming, handsome, and intelligent teacher in the whole school.

“Hello class. Today we are going to dive into the concept of color waves. With the coming out of those new color television sets that can be purchased for your home, I thought it would benefit us all to know a little bit about how they work.” Mr. Watson smiled and she was sure that his teeth were glowing.

While he spoke, she took notes vigorously, sometimes to the point of getting a painful cramp in her hand. She fought through it.

He always looked directly at her when he was about to raise a question to the class, as if warning her to make sure she lifted her hand first. “I have a bit of a personal question to ask you all,” Mr. Watson chimed. “Our normal babysitter for the evening is sick and my wife and I already have tickets to see the new Charlton Heston movie. Would anyone be interested in babysitting? I would be deeply appreciative.”

She wanted nothing more than to be appreciated. Her hand shot up like rocket.

She arrived at 5:30pm sharp, just as Mr. Watson had instructed. She had brushed her hair and put on a little bit of red lipstick that she had stolen from her mother’s purse.

“So nice of you to be on time,” Mr. Watson said. Her cheeks blushed immediately.

She was nervous to meet Mrs. Watson and had no idea how old their child was. All she knew was that Mr. Watson had glowing, sparkly teeth.

Mr. Watson gave her a tour of the house and its quaint rooms. When they got to the back of the house, Mr. Watson stopped and turned slowly to face her.

“Now, this is my favorite room of the whole house,” he paused for a moment. “But, you cannot tell anyone at school that I showed it to you, okay? Promise me.”

“I pinky promise, Mr. Watson.” She would do anything to know what was behind that door if it meant bringing her closer to her favorite teacher.

He smiled. She melted.

He opened the door. The room was so dimly lit that she could hardly see three feet in front of her.

He grabbed her hand. “We have to go down some stairs. Be careful.”

As he led her down the stairs, her heart raced, but mostly just because they were holding hands.

At the bottom of the stairs, they rounded the corner and arrived at a fluorescently illuminated room that looked a lot like a laboratory and smelled a lot like a pet store. There were small cages all along the walls and as she looked closer, she noticed that there was a rat in each one.

“These are my children,” Mr. Watson said proudly.

He must have noticed the perplexed and slightly disgusted look on her face because he immediately started to explain the purpose of this rat-room.

“Do not be frightened. I’m a scientist after all. I am in the middle of an extraordinary, ground-breaking discovery. Don’t you want to be a part of that?” He looked so deeply into her eyes that she thought she might faint.

She nodded, slowly.

“Good. There are instructions on each cage and each child has their own personality, just like your brothers and sisters,” Mr. Watson explained. “The Mrs. and I will be back before you know it, so make yourself at home, have fun, and get to know my children. Just make sure you do not leave this room. If all goes well, I will have a special treat for you when I return.”

He squeezed her hand, smiled, and left the room closing the door behind him. “What have I gotten myself into?” she thought to herself.

For a long time she stood in the same spot, frozen. Then, a loud clatter came from the cage marked “D” as the rat behind bars began to ferociously claw at the cage.

Her skin crawled but she inched closer to cage D.

Rat D must be fed every 10 minutes. Use the food in the blue container. Failure to do so can lead to extreme aggression.

She turned and noticed a row of red, green, and blue containers to her right. She ran over and scooped out a mush that looked a lot like soggy French fries mixed with peanut butter. Rat D gobbled up the mush and then succumbed to an intense food comma.

She almost giggled. He was so chubby that it was cute.

Feeling more comfortable, she walked around the room, looking at the “children.” All of their instructions had something to do with feeding.

Rat A must be fed every two hours. Use the green container. Rat C must be fed only once a day with food from the red container…

At the end of the row of cages was a small door attached to an odd, dome-shaped machine. It must have only been about 5 feet tall and had the numbers 2-0-1-2 written on the front.

Getting hungry herself, she sat at the desk in the center of the room and searched the drawers for something tasty. Perfect, she made a Ritz Crackers discovery! She continued searching the desk out of curiosity and came across some unmarked bottles of pills, pages of handwritten notes and charts, and money. However, it was not the nickels and dimes money that she was used to, but money with Benjamin Franklin on them! “Mr. Watson must be rich,” she whispered.

Just as she was finishing up her snack, she heard the sound of footsteps and Mr. Watson’s unmistakable laughter.

“How is my favorite girl doing?” he asked as he quickly walked around the room, examining his children.

“You did a great job!” Mr. Watson was very pleased. He got down on one knee so he could speak to her on an equal level. “It’s time for your special gift.”

He reached into the desk and pulled out two Ben Franklin’s. She could not stop thinking how many Coca-Cola’s or gummy bears she could buy at the market with that kind of cash.

“This is two-hundred dollars. The cool thing about this is that we can trade it for even better things. For example, I discovered a small pill you can take that allows you to eat whatever you like and still become skinny. Doesn’t that sound nice?”

Did that sound nice? It sounded like her dreams just came true! She could go to school and not be bullied and still eat her mom’s amazing cooking. Miraculous!

“To get the pills is simple. All you have to do is take this money, go to a secret store, and trade the money for the special treats. Then, your life will never be the same!” Mr. Watson was a great salesman.

She smiled. “What store do I go to?” she asked, innocently.

Now Mr. Watson sprung to his feet. “Let me show you.”

Once again, he took her hand and led her to the dome-shaped creation in the corner of the room. “You are going to a place called Los Angeles in 2012. Everyone in this place is skinny and wears size 0 clothing. The sun always shines and people stay young and beautiful for a very long time.”

“That sounds nice, but I am not going to fit in,” she confessed.

“Nonsense. After these special pills, you will be a movie star.” Mr. Watson knew just the right things to say.

He put a strange contraption on her head and straps on her shoulders and arms.

“After you get inside, I am going to push the green button. When the machine stops buzzing, open the door and you will be in my good friend’s home. Hand him the money and he will hand you a small bag. Then, go back inside the machine and push the yellow button that says 1959. Understand?” Mr. Watson spoke very articulately.

“Yes, I understand, Mr. Watson. Thank you very much for this gift.”

He pushed the green button. Everything around her began to shake wildly. She closed her eyes and prayed that this would end soon so she could get her present and finally be skinny.

As quickly as it had started, the shaking stopped and the air was quiet again. She took a deep breath and opened the door.

The room she arrived in was a lot different than Mr. Watson’s basement laboratory. Instead of inside, she was actually outside in a dirt courtyard. She could see palm trees in the distance. At least, she thought they were palm trees. Text book photos are not always accurate.

Instead of cages with rats, this area had stables with horses. There was an old man stacking hay in the distance. When he saw her, he came running towards her.

“Hello doll. You made it! We are so pleased. Do you have the money?” the old man had the most unusually young looking face, yet the skin on his neck and hands looked as old as her grandfather’s.

She was too afraid answer so she just handed him the two Ben Franklin’s.

The old man looked happy but, for some reason, his face struggled to smile. He handed her a brown paper bag that had Clenbuterol written on it.

“Do not take more than one per day. If your heart starts to beat too fast, just sit down and take a deep breath. Have fun cutie pie!” He turned and galloped off to his horse stables.

Before heading back, she looked up at the bright sky and felt the warm sun grab her face. This was her last moment as Big Mac girl.

She pushed the yellow button and was back in Mr. Watson’s laboratory in less than the time it takes to microwave last night’s meatloaf.

“I missed you,” Mr. Watson gave her a hug.

He took the bag from her and counted the white pills.

“Perfect. I am so proud of you. Let me see your hand.”

He placed seven, shiny pills in her youthful palm.

“If you want these pills to make you happy and thin, make sure you do the following,” Mr. Watson explained. She wished she had a pencil and paper to take notes. “Take one pill every morning when you wake up. Drink lots of water and just eat as you normally would, as much as you want! However, you may start to lose your appetite, but that is normal. Lastly, be sure not to tell anyone because then everyone would want these pills and I only have enough for me and you.”

She could hardly sleep that night. From this moment on, she was going to start saving nickels and dimes for a new, skinny-girl wardrobe. Her mom would no longer need to extend the buttons on her pants or buy her tops from the men’s department. Maybe she could even have friends at school and not eat lunch alone.

The moon was shining big and bright that night. As she laid awake, smiling and dreaming of a better future, Mr. Watson also could not sleep. He crossed his fingers and said a silent prayer, hoping that his favorite student would not experience the same fate as his first batch of rats did.

Additionally, the Mr. Watson of 2012 had trouble falling asleep. He had failed to share his secret with the little girl from the past. After a life of studying youth and physical beauty, no one was more qualified than him to share the experiment’s conclusion. Chasing physical beauty may qualify as a valid pursuit of happiness, but never would it amount to its acquisition.