Another One Bites The Dust


Growing up, I had a tendency to argue. The words “firecracker” and “pistol” were often used to describe me. I had an opinion on everything and I always felt like everyone needed to hear it- and agree, of course. Growing up in a predominately right-wing conservative area was hard, but it also fueled my fire. It only made sense that I would end up in San Francisco, the liberal city of free love, gay love, and protest love. I definitely felt more at ease around all the free thinking hippies and proud rainbow flags; but an interesting thing happened: I stopped arguing. I stopped getting fired up. Perhaps this came with age, or maybe you just start to care a little less after the twelfth protest in a month, I don’t know.

My values never changed, mind you, I just no longer felt the need to shout them from the rooftops, to battle people. Opinions, whether you agree with them or not, are valid, and I learned to let everyone have theirs without judgment. It felt nice.  So I chilled out.

Just last night I was on a date with the most gorgeous man. It was our fourth or fifth time out together and I had been looking forward to our date all day.

When you like someone, and things are clicking, naturally you begin to talk about your passions and your opinions. When you take it beyond the superficial, it can become a really enjoyable part of the human experience. This guy is bright, sharp, and funny, so I figured we could have a pretty great conversation.

However, this particular evening I just wasn’t super interested in talking about anything heavy. It was taco Tuesday, he was rocking the man bun, and I was too interested in what was going to happen after dinner to dive into his topic of choice- the military.

Those of you know me know that I can get worked up if I’m pushed. I do still have that voice, and a lot of sass. Hello, you’ve read this blog I’m assuming. I have a tendency to speak without a filter, and I’ve gotten myself in trouble from time to time. But for the most part, these rants and raves don’t come without provocation.

San Diego is a military town. This beautiful hunk of a man has a military background. I have plenty of friends and acquaintances that have served and I have nothing but kind things to say about them and their line of work. Am I fan of war/violence? No. Do I like guns? Not at all. Do I appreciate their selflessness, hard work, and dedication? Without a doubt. That’s pretty much as far as I’ll ever choose to comment on this subject.

For whatever reason, my delicious man candy wanted to discuss it, so I did my best to tread lightly. When asked if I had ever dated a guy in the military, I gave a half-hearted “kinda…” (a one night stand with a Navy SEAL with huge pecs doesn’t count in my book, but you never know), and proceeded to say, “I didn’t think I’d ever have that much in common with one (BECAUSE: I don’t like violence/war/guns).”

HERE is the point where I should have changed the subject, gone to the bathroom, choked on my gum…anything. But because I was questioned further, I somehow ended up saying something along the lines of: “I was always just kind of bothered by the military recruiters on my college campus because I felt like they were targeting the brainless and it’s not really fair”. UGH. KALEY.

What happened after this statement is similar to what I’d imagine being sucked into a black hole is like.

Everything changed. He couldn’t get out of there fast enough, he was aggressive, and he looked at me with a blazing fire of hatred I had never seen.

I should NOT have said brainless, I know this. This was the trigger that ruined an otherwise good night. What I meant or should have said was vulnerable. Or maybe even naïve. Because I believe that you are, in that point of your life, very vulnerable, and very naïve, and recruiters have to know that. I felt that way when I started college! You’re figuring life out, you’re making choices, and you don’t know what you want.  I, in no way, shape or form, think that people in the military are unintelligent. Far from it! I’ve called myself brainless on numerous accounts and I definitely do not mean it the way he took it.

Unfortunately, when you say something that hurts someone, they don’t care what you meant, they care about what you said. And I said brainless. And I regret it.

Jonah Hill does not hate gay people, and Justin Bieber does not want to be part of the KKK (I hope). Much like Jonah Hill on Jimmy Fallon the other week, my eyes filled with tears and I apologized profusely. My intention was never, ever to offend ANYONE. There was nothing I could say to change his mind, though, and he icily cut the date short, probably never to be seen again.

I am not Justin Bieber, I am not a celebrity, I do not feel immensely responsible for everything that I say because I do not live under a microscope. To quote the handsome man who now hates me, “You’re a writer, you should know better.”

I was asked a question and I answered it, plain and simple. I said a really stupid word that I did not mean. I apologized, and I meant it. But, as a writer who should “know better”, at what point do I stop speaking my truth? When do I sacrifice the opinions and words and thoughts that make up the parts of me? How far do I go before I realize I’ve offended everyone? Should I apologize for the words that I say, or should I apologize for the way you perceive them?

I don’t have a Delorean, so an honest apology is all I can do. If people want to make websites about how much they hate me, or end a date before the tacos even arrive, that’s fine. You have that right.  But I woke up this morning with a pit in my stomach and I know it’s not because I didn’t get to finish my margarita.

I don’t ever want to hurt someone’s feelings with the things I say or write. I appreciate being called out, and I take everyone’s opinions into consideration. That being said, I think that someone who wants to date me will probably have to have a thick skin. They’ll need to handle my lack of filter better. That doesn’t mean they have to love it, by any means. They can challenge me, educate me, debate me- I encourage it. I just don’t want to lose a good person over a mistake.

My honesty is what makes me, me. My poor word choice assists in defining me too. These could be my biggest virtues or my biggest faults, I don’t know.

I’ve sabotaged a lot of good things in my short life, but this was the biggest and most surprising thus far. I’m never going to stop writing, and if anything, I will probably say less stupid things, but I can’t guarantee the elimination of poor word choices altogether. All I can do is apologize and try to be better.

Thank you to everyone who has put up with my mistakes and shortcomings, and stuck with me through them. If anyone has any future dating advice for me I’d be happy to hear it.


It’s Not Me, It’s You


Or, “Male Habits That We Need to Stop Supporting”

1. An unhealthy obsession with sports- I grew up with a father who would cause our dogs to piss all over the floor because they were so scared when he’d start yelling during Charger games. Whenever they’d fuck up or lose (so pretty much all the time) my dad would lock himself in his room or for the rest of the day or drive around town to cool off. My mom still says that part of the reason she had to get a divorce was because he gave her an XXL football jersey for Christmas one year. But my dad’s not the only one. I have a friend who isn’t “allowed” to text her boyfriend during baseball games.  I saw a male friend of mine cry over a basketball game in a crowded bar. My ex boyfriend related his favorite soccer team losing a game to all of the Kardashians dying. That’s where I draw the line.

2. “Being honest”- If I had a dollar for every time some dumb woman said “well at least he was being honest” after every rant I went on, I could have bought a much better vibrator by now. I seriously hate when people say that. Why do men get an award for being honest? You don’t get a free pass for telling me you were banging my boss before you got caught. You know what I am, all of the time? Honest! I don’t get any applause for telling you that your penis is small.

3. Correctly identifying feelings- Men get forgiven at the drop of a hat for saying things like, “I was scared” “Everything is so confusing” “You hurt me”. Oh you magical creature! Here, lay down- let me bring you a glass of milk. Big deal. Women experience and acknowledge our feelings every moody second of the day and you know what they get called? Bat shit crazy. Men do it and they’re “sensitive”. If you’re going to continue to promote the idea that you’re the stronger, superior sex, I am not going to bring you a Snuggie every time you fuck up because you were “scared”.

4. Saying that they like natural girls- Rightttt that’s why Playboy is such a successful magazine. Just stop saying it. You don’t even know what you’re talking about. I have a hair dresser, a waxer, a tanning salon, and a Schick Quatro for a reason.

5. Spending too much time in the bathroom- Seriously. Why does it take you that long to poop? It makes us nervous.

6. Reconnecting with an ex- It’s never okay. EVER. Don’t like her pictures on Instagram, don’t comment on her lame Facebook status, don’t text her! I don’t care if she’s about to jump off the Golden Gate Bridge, you do not take that bitch’s call.

7. Saying they’ll “never do” something- I’m not saying to argue with your dude on this one, but I take every “I never” with a HUGE grain of salt.  My ex said he’d never buy a girl jewelry unless it was an engagement ring. Tell that to my diamond earrings and Michael Kors watch I got two months later. Just saying.

Old Dogs

I’ve been working as a receptionist for a few months, which is a new gig for me. I don’t know what it is about being a receptionist or a secretary, but those titles sure get the older guys going. I’ve never had issues with older men before, but plant a young blonde behind a desk and give her two way calling- middle aged guys will line up!

Now forgive me, because when I said old, I mean mid 30’s. I’ve barely gotten into my 20’s over here so anything past 30 constitutes OLD for me. And I know, I know, you’re only as young as you feel and all that bullshit but it’s hard for me to take the situation seriously.

Guys in their 20’s are typically the worst age bracket to date, we all know this. Sure they look good but they’re deceiving; they still have their hair, their metabolisms are fast, plus they’re at their sexual peak. 20 year old dudes are shady, poor, and have ADD. I’m not saying these are bad things, it just is what it is, and I’m fine with it.  If some guy in his 30’s thinks I’m a big enough chump to believe that he really wants to “get to know me” he obviously doesn’t know what I’ve been dealing with.  Girls in their 20’s are no better, sure we’re pretty and our boobs stand up by themselves but we’re flaky, and boozy and, you guessed it, poor. Anyone over the age of 28 who’s into that might have some issues.

I may be a lot of things, but one thing I TRY not to be is judgmental. So when a clean cut white client at my office asked me out for dinner, I said why the fuck not. I hate the saying ‘don’t knock it till you try it’ but it is kind of true. I had my reservations, based on the attraction factor. I don’t want to say that this guy wasn’t good looking, but he didn’t really light the fire. Let’s just say he wasn’t my type.

So whatever, I went out to dinner with this guy, and you know what? I actually had a good time! I had totally forgotten about our date because I was day drinking margaritas and showed up an hour late- I am 23 after all. But he was fine with it and the conversation was easy. I laughed and drank sparkling wine and enjoyed myself. I started thinking, okay, this won’t be so bad, I’ll go to some dinners, get my shit paid for, maybe go on a trip! So when he asked me out for drinks a few days later I said sure.

Here’s where things went awry:

1. I had to meet him at his place downtown. This is annoying to me. If you’re such a stud, come pick me up so I can have a drink. Also, parking downtown isn’t exactly a cakewalk and he has his own parking spot! I drove around for 20 minutes and literally almost went home.

2. He didn’t have plans. This is bothersome on so many levels. This is our second date and you don’t even have a game plan? Impressive.

3. We went to HIS local bar. How fun! You get to chop it up with the bartender and all the other losers you see here on the daily and I’ll sit here drinking lemonade because I DROVE MYSELF.

4. He got drunk. So attractive right? I can’t wait to walk back to my shady parking spot 18 blocks away with the stumbling and slurry guy pushing 40.

Here’s a couple reasons why this may have happened:

1. He thought I would get drunk too and end up staying at his place. HA. Nice try buddy, this isn’t my first rodeo.

2. He was nervous. I would never care about this, but it’s a possibility.

3. He’s an idiot. I’m sticking with this one. If a guy in his 20’s pulled this shit I’d probably shrug it off. But here’s the deal- you’re by definition a man now, and there’s no way around that. If you want to date barely legal girls you go right ahead, but I don’t see any success in your future if you keep acting like that. Do you really think that you’re so amazing that you can bag girls that way? It’s insulting and it’s sad.

Long story short, I did not go out with this “gentleman” again. Even when he offered me Kings of Leon tickets. That, ladies, is called maturity.

I don’t anticipate dating any older dudes in my near future, and I hope for the young women out there that guy cleans his act up. But you never know, some old dogs can learn new tricks. As always, I’ll keep you posted.