five hundred twenty-five thousand six hundred minutes

How do you measure a year?  I measure in blog posts ... 45 to be exact!  I started this blog a year ago tomorrow with the intention of using it as a summer diary.  Over 7000 hits later (from more than 25 countries!), this blog has turned into my own version of Sex and the City, where I can speculate about my relationships with others and myself, and whatever else crosses my fickle mind.  It has been so rewarding--and frankly, downright cathartic-- to practice writing, find my voice, and work on my MS Paint skills. 

So, Happy Birthday Blog!  And thank you friends and random readers for joining me on this wild ride of hand holding, crushes, Vegas, pants-peeing, break-ups, and general over-sharing.  You can look forward to another year of excessive parentheses, doodles, and attempted humor while musing about my crazy (and yet, non-existent) love life and other topics of interest.

And just like last year, I'm fleeing Ann Arbor and the temptations presented by ex-boyfriends and DEMF, and heading back to the Windy City to celebrate Memorial Day.  Catch ya on the flip side!

L

the web of destruction

Last week, when some guy asked what my hobbies are, I playfully answered "Indoor soccer, yoga, marathon training, and... serial dating."  He must have thought I was joking, because he promptly asked me out.  While I meant for it to be a little joke-y, the truth is that I love dating.  The little boost of self-esteem you feel when a guy asks you out.  Agonizing over the perfect outfit for the occasion.  Having a great conversation with a new, interesting person -- whether it's over a fantastic meal at a restaurant, smoothies in the park, a couple glasses of wine, or at an outdoor music festival.  Using my creepy, hyper-active imagination to envision each different version of my future with each guy.  The rush of the "Will he try to kiss me?" moment.  I just feel sparkly when I'm dating.

Confession: I'm a little addicted to this particular kind of sparkle, and I tend to overdo it.  I once went on 8 different dates with 8 different men (boys?) in one week.  Some might say this makes me "flighty."  Or a "maneater."  But I beg to differ -- I fall in love, and I fall hard.  I have had long-term, serious boyfriends.  I prefer to think of my serial dating as evidence that I'm a romantic, and I'm putting myself out there in hopes of meeting The One in Ann Arbor (or wherever I may be).  But serial dating leads to a whole new problem:  the non-boyfriend break-up.  There's been a few dates, maybe a little kissing.  But only one party (him) sees a future.  Cue the "break-up."  I've narrowed it down to two methods: The Fade-Out, and The Direct:

The Fade-Out: When you just...stop...calling (or texting) and basically disappear off the face of the earth.  The nice thing about the Fade-Out is that you never have to awkwardly tell someone that after a handful of dates you are quite certain you never want to see them again.  They just sort it out on their own.  However, this is very immature, cowardly, and rude.  It also makes you feel very embarrassed if you should ever run into them again. 

The Direct:  Sitting down with someone and basically saying, "Thanks, but no thanks."  This is what adults do, ending things decisively and maturely.  But people don't like being rejected.  It is uncomfortable, and awkward, and makes you feel like a mean, bad person.

I have tried both of these methods with mixed results.  I really struggle with The Direct method, as I am generally not very good at being direct, especially when it means hurting someone's feelings.  My indirectness is usually compounded by the fact that I probably like the guy, just not enough.  Because I know how badly The Fade-Out sucks from first-hand experience (I'm lookin' at you, JFK), I try to use The Direct method as often as possible.  But since I can be slightly indirect with my approach, the result is something my friends fondly call "The Web of Destruction."  This basically means that there are a number of men out there at any given time who are caught up in my devious, wily ways, still hanging on "the hook," waiting to have their hearts and souls crushed.   You may be wondering how I sleep at night.  I figure all's fair in love and war, and hey--at least I haven't broken up with someone on a post-it.

L

some things i need to know about life, i learned from star wars

When I was a kid, I was obsessed with Star Wars.  My little brother and I staged lightsaber battles with empty wrapping paper tubes, and later upgraded to the flash-light-under-telescoping-traffic-cone models.   Princess Leia was my golden standard for beauty, I could do [terrible] impressions of Yoda, and I dreamed of being a Jedi Knight.  To this day, I still love Star Wars-- who doesn't?-- but I usually bury my total nerdiness beneath a facade of girlishness and J. Crew.  But today, on Star Wars Day, it seems okay to let it all hang out.

When I was a kid, my little brother had a poster on his wall that said All I Need To Know About Life I Learned From Star Wars.  (We thought it was pretty hilarious, because it listed things like "The possibility of successfully navigating an asteroid field is approximately 3,720 to 1" and "Always let the Wookie win.")  Sadly, I have not learned all I need to know about life from Star Wars, but there are several lessons on life, love and happiness embedded in the greatest series of all time.  My list:

• Do or do not.  There is no try.  Yes, I had to go here-- how could a list about knowledge taken from Star Wars not include Yoda's most iconic bit of guidance? He spews fortune cookie advice regularly (or at least did... RIP), but this is unquestionably one of his greatest lines.What it comes down to is give it your all, or don't even bother. I'm doing my best to not disrespect Yoda and half-ass my way through life, but I'll admit, it's a hard line to walk for someone who is inherently lazy like me.
•  Your dad isn't as evil as you thought he was when you were a kid.  Love my dad. 'Nuff said. 
•  If your gut tells you “I have a bad feeling about this,” listen.  If I only listened to my gut, I'd eat a lot more cake and exercise even less, so I do try to be analytical about decisions and weigh pros and cons.  But for big emotional decisions, intuition gets the big veto-- always.  When logic fails, that inner feelings somehow always prevails and gets me through, safe and sound to the other side.
• Don’t give up, even if all you know has been destroyed and the love of your life has been frozen solid.  Princess Leia is proof that perseverance = good, giving up = bad.  I think that's pretty straight forward.
• Keep your mind strong so no one will be able to bend your will. I've gone through phases where I'm a little too compliant, and let myself be manipulated by others.  I really hate confrontation, but I'm slowly realizing that standing up for what I believe in is worth the confrontation, when the alternative is to back down and let someone discount my beliefs.  
• Judge others by their size, do not.  Another Yoda-ism.  I've traditionally gone for Talls, but I'm learning to give guys under 6'3 a try-- and it's worth it!
• Being a princess can suck sometimes.  Poor Leia.  Kidnapped, home planet destroyed, boyfriend frozen?  I used to dream of being a princess, but it seems like it's a hazardous occupation.  And speaking of Leia...
• A woman who can kick ass is highly attractive.  Sure, she had some help from two hotties, a couple of robots, a Wookiee and those adorable Ewoks, but she was definitely able to hold her own in some dangerous situations.  And the men her life weren't intimidated -- they only wanted her more!  It's nice to know that forcing femininity is not necessary to get a guy.  I'll be my BAMF self and still land my prince!
• "There's no mystical energy field that controls my destiny."  Han Solo, you smarty pants!  Harrison Ford's best quote ever.  Han Solo doesn't leave his destiny up to The Force or God or his Boss, or blame it on something.  He puts his life into his own hands, and in doing so understands that he is the sole person who can make himself happy.  Someday I hope to be like Han Solo, but for now, I just try to remember to ask myself "WWHSD?"
• Make sure you know your family tree before kissing a boy on the mouth.  Google, people.

Not bad life lessons from a sci-fi movie.  May the Force be with you!
 
L

everyone loves a makeover

I was taking a shower last night after a fantastic 10k training run, and just as I squirted a big glob of Softsoap Honeysuckle Orange Moisturizing Body Wash onto my loofah, it hit me -- my blog design was at war with my blog content.  My banner was so... sterile, and I like to think my writing is not.  After a full year of "illustrating" my posts, it finally dawned on me to Lindsey-ize my title as well.   I think it adds just the right amount of whimsy.  So, enjoy!

L

PS:  Feel free to offer any feedback, but I can't promise to take constructive criticisms nicely.  :)

why i hate cuddling

I hate cuddling.  Absolutely despise it.  Just the word "cuddle" sends me into cold sweats, and my body breaks out into hives (as you may imagine, this will be a rough post for me).  You see, once upon a time, at the tender age of 8, I was curious as a cat and asked my mom what sex was.  I can still remember sitting in her bedroom, her on the edge of the bed, and me sitting cross-legged on the carpet looking up to her while she described sex as "a special kind of cuddle for adults only."  Cut to 15 years later when someone wants to cuddle and cue the negative associations and subsequent gagging.

Now don't get me wrong, I like to nestle up to a warm body and overdose on oxytocin just as much as the next chick.  But I don't cuddle -- I snuggle. And even if your mom didn't scar you for life from cuddling, I think you should be a snuggler, too.  Let's refer to dictionary.com for a little vocabulary lesson to start:

snug·gle [snuhg-uhl], verb (used without object)

1. to lie or press closely, as for comfort or from affection; nestle.

cud·dle [kuhd-l], verb (used with object)

1. to hold close in an affectionate manner; hug tenderly; fondle

Hugging and holding tenderly, closely and affectionately?  Yumm.  But it's all fun and games until someone gets FONDLED.  Thanks, but no thanks.  I prefer a life in which fondling is typically not involved.  And by "typically not involved," I mean never[ish]. Other reasons to opt for snuggling?  Fabric softener and the fabulous Snuggie.  If you can't get over Snuggie compromising the integrity of the word, I propose the huggle (and I don't mean the Wikipedia vandalism reversion tool).  Because huggling is great in every sense of the word, which coincidentally, feels like a hug on your lips as you utter the word.

So are you a cuddler, a snuggler, or a huggler?  I suggest knowing, because I suspect that OKCupid's mysterious compatibility algorithm takes this tidbit into account.  And if you are a cute boy who needs to conduct more research on the issue in some real life situations, feel free to get a hold of me... I'm only here to help.

L