What to expect if you’re expecting to date me

Sometimes I like crunchy cereal for dinner and cold pizza for breakfast. And I always like chocolate, except for white chocolate which really isn’t chocolate at all in my opinion, but vanilla masquerading as such to get noticed. Frankly, I think it’s a bit sickening.

Yes, I get a little irritable the day before and the first day of my period, but not always. I ALWAYS want chocolate on those days. (See the previous paragraph for more information.) I get a few small pimples or one really large, painful cyst a few days before said period and I’m extra hot the day of (body temp, not attractiveness, obviously) and carrying extra water weight around the already pudgy midsection. I will then, of course, walk around in as little clothes as possible because nothing looks good on me, excepting for my comfy period bottoms, and I’ll be eating Ben & Jerry’s New York Super Fudge Chunk and chugging Coca Cola like a boss.

I like to sing along loudly to every song on the car radio, except for most country music which I can’t stand. I will turn the radio up to cover the sound of my own voice because I am not deluded enough to think I’m on pitch, but I do like to pretend I must project to the back of a crowded concert hall. I also like to wake up to, fall asleep to, shower with, cook with, and pretty much anything and everything with music so become comfortable with spontaneous power ballads while I’m making breakfast, alternative rock as I lather and rinse, Bollywood love songs while I pee and/or poop, and Bollywood songs of loss in bed (ahem, this may change depending on how this thing with you goes. Or not. We’ll see.) I don’t have a favorite song, singer, genre, etc. and not because I’m indecisive, which I am, but because I love so many many different songs, singers, genres, etc. I am touched by each in a different way, pulled by a different emotion, memory, thought to make me feel like the song comes from within myself and was created just for me. Also, I am a little indecisive. Maybe. Just a bit.

I also love to read. And watch movies. And I don’t have favorites in either for the same reasons as above. Although if pressed, I’d have to say I love The Outsiders, by S.E. Hinton most of all, only because I’ve read it over too many times to count since first reading it in school and for some unknown reason, I currently have four different copies in the basement, along with a wall full of books that have survived my mother’s donations to the library over the years to make room for more of my loves. Don’t worry. This doesn’t make me fickle, but I may be a little bit of a hoarder. I’ll pack a carry-on bag full of books for flights and vacations and I won’t be ashamed to finish reading them instead of sleeping.

I do like my sleep, though. Don’t wake me up. Ever. I like having my own alarm clock, set to wake me up with (what else?) a great song and I usually actually wake up just before the alarm and I like that silence and then the burst of music and I don’t want to talk to you or anyone or meet your gaze or do anything until that happens. Okay?

I like dancing almost as much as I like singing and once I get started, I really don’t care if I’m doing well or not but I’m just moving moving grooving to a rhythm maybe only my body knows. And I have to pause to breathe and wipe some sweat off the back of my neck and cool off because I overheat and feel like I might faint but then I’ll want to dance again, so we’ll just keep going in and out of the club or kitchen or hotel lobby, wherever my dance floor is at the time.

I love to drive, but I get sleepy after a couple of hours and you’ll notice me go from singing along to all those songs to eating some curly fries or drinking my coffee to snoring (just slight, ladylike snoring. Mostly. Except when I’m congested, because, okay, then I’m scary.) I open the windows even when it’s 20 degrees out and blast my music even when it’s 3 in the morning and chew gum like a Sweet Valley High teenager (what, you don’t know what that is? Ask ANY American woman what she read in the eighties) and I’ll drive for hours and hours like this on a long trip if necessary. But I’d prefer if you drive, because, and you can check back a couple of paragraphs, I like my sleep.

I am equally impressed with a hot dog, knish, and bag of hot, roasted nuts from the streets of New York as I am with first class, five star, V.I.P. service. I like diners and business class, jeans and mani-pedis, ponytails and massages. I enjoy calamari and popcorn, the Caribbean and my bed, amusement parks and cruises. I appreciate poetry and action movies, the ocean and the narrow part of a man’s waist, camping on a beach and dining on a New York City rooftop.

However, there is one major 2 and a half year old exception to all of the above. I am a mother and everything else comes second. All that I am or want or expect comes second. I am full of contradictions and indecisiveness (I think), but I am 100% , second-guessing myself to derangement, perfecting the never perfect act of parenting this child and if you want to date me, you’re going to have to accept that more than anything else that I’ve said here.

And if you expect to date me, expect to never meet this child that is at the top of my priorities list, unless of course, you fit my crazy, contradictory, kind of impossible to really understand personality, to the point of being the one I could share a life with. Because yes, I’m single, but I still believe in love and passion and relationships and I believe I will share this life with someone just as nutty as me. One day. For now, I’m happy with my chocolate. And music. And sleep.

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