grad school, insurance, Martha, online dating, Riggins, therapy
Why a blog you ask? Who would read this silliness?
Well the answer to that second question is no one. I haven’t told anyone I’m doing this so right now it’s just literally “Me, Myself, & Riggins.” I’ll read it to him out loud every night so he is kept up to speed (I’m only 1/2 kidding).
Why is a loaded question. Why not? I constantly have thoughts and Riggins is a good sounding board to a point but I feel like I could get more from a bigger audience base (I realize this doesn’t make sense with the 0 follower fact).
Here is the reason that pushed me over the edge:
One evening last week my good friend Martha came over to hang and drink wine. As always our discussion covered everything from the brilliance of Toddlers and Tiaras to the excitement of her going to grad school. AS ALWAYS the conversation turned back to my overly exciting dating life (something I’m sure will fill many of my blog posts). As an avid online dater in LA I make it a point to give my “killing information” to a friend prior to meeting someone and check in after to alert them of my safety. So for all you men out there reading my profile on one of those dating sites be warned … if you kill me you will be hunted down. She had mentioned how I hadn’t given her killing info for my last date and I shared that one of our good friends had read about a guy who stalked women online and rapped and killed them on their date (I may be making part of that up but you get the point). For that reason our common friend demanded I give her the killing info and handing it over to more than one person seemed like overkill (no pun intended). Here is how the rest of the conversation played out (this is from memory so it is possible these exact words were not said … ):
Martha: That’s really scary.
Wendy: Well you are supposed to decide ahead of time if you are going to fight or not, if attacked. When it happens it is all too fast and if you are going to fight it has to be instinct. I’m going to fight.
Martha: Of course you are.
Wendy: That mo’fo (although I’m sure I actually used the full curse words. I was, after all, a couple glasses of wine in by this point.) isn’t going to know what hit him. He’ll be sorry he ever laid eyes on me. Seriously just look for the guy bleeding in pain as he stumbles around with his eyes poked out.
Martha: (heavy sigh)
Wendy: (With a grin that is rarely seen other then on a small child at Christmas time) I can’t wait!
Martha: Please get therapy.
My response was wild laughter. You see my brilliant friend Martha is right. I do need therapy. I realize that. I admit it. I’m still not going to get it. That would require WAY too much effort on my part. I can’t even imagine trying to carve out 2 hrs / week to sit in someones office and glare at them meanly (which is what I would do. Freakin’ head shrinkers.). Not to mention my insurance is crap and if my insurance appointed primary care physician is an example of the scholastic genius available I’m sure I’ll end up laying in a pool of my own vomit from an od of Valium.
So here you go. This is my therapy without actually going to therapy. Enjoy!
(BTW names have been changed to protect the innocent and stupid. Except Riggins and Martha. I thought of the whole “change the name” thing after I wrote this and since I called her brilliant I think it’s all good.)