Soccer Saves

In case you didn’t realize from all the Tim Howard memes (not that I’m complaining, I kinda want him to father my children), soccer is finally starting to be more of a “thing.” I am, of course, specifically talking about here in America. We’re a little late to the soccer bandwagon. Of course the majority of us are going to jump back off the wagon, wait four more years, and then climb back on. It’s a bit ridiculous.

Personally, I like soccer. I wish it was more popular here. I’m not saying I don’t like football, because you know I do, but I hate how much people hate on soccer. We used to go to professional soccer games when I was a kid, and I can honestly tell you I enjoyed them more than any time I’ve been talked into watching baseball, hockey, tennis, or golf. And I’m not even talking about watching on tv, but going to an event.

But I’m not here to trash your favorite sport; I’m here to talk about soccer. Back in the day I used to play a little. I don’t really remember why I started playing. With ballet, for example, I specifically remember dying to be a ballerina. Trumpet was an attempt to escape piano lessons since my parents insisted on being musical. But soccer? No idea. It might have been a decision by my parents to give my brother and me some social skills since we were homeschooled at that point. It might have been us asking to play. It doesn’t really matter; the end result was I LOVED IT.

We used to play all year round in various leagues. Winter was the worst simply because it sucked playing indoors, but I’d bet my poor parents appreciated the respite from sitting in the heat all day long. I’m pretty sure at some point I even did some soccer camp thing that involved practicing for literally hours every day for weeks, and I loved that too.

Maybe I needed different glasses...

Still, there were a few things I didn’t like about soccer. I never was very good at hitting the ball with my head. Generally, when I tried, I managed to knock off my glasses. Try being in the middle of a game and having a Velma moment – it sucks. Once I even managed to knock myself out. No brain damage (says me), but I distinctly remember waking up and trying to figure out why I was on the ground and what was happening. I stopped trying to head bunt it for awhile after that.

Another thing that sucked – they generally made us rotate positions. This did nothing but piss me off. Especially when they made me play goalie. The entire reason I like soccer is that my hand-eye coordination is crap. So yeah, let’s put me in the goal to catch/block balls flying at my face. Brilliant. Luckily this didn’t happen too often (lucky both for my team, and for my stress levels), but one of my coaches was very insistent on me playing forward somewhat regularly. This made absolutely no sense to me. I liked playing defense. Why make me play offense when you know I hate it (and trust me, I made sure everyone knew my feelings on the matter)??

One of my biggest life regrets is that I stopped playing soccer. I’ve mentioned before that quitting is one of my worst habits. Soccer is a little odd in that I actually rather support the reasoning behind why I quit. It stopped being fun, and I think you should do what you enjoy. But it wasn’t because of the game itself, but because of people’s reactions to it.

He was adorable, but crazy

If you think I’m crazy, talk to my brother about soccer. It’s getting to almost 20 years since we played, and he will still go on a rant about that championship game they lost because “the refs were bribed.” Seriously, he was a little 8 or 9 year old running around SCREAMING because he was convinced the refs were working for the other team. The sad thing is there were a LOT of people like that. Not my parents, thankfully, but other parents on the team, parents from the other teams, even the other players would all go bat-shit crazy about things. I didn’t like it. While I personally wasn’t getting yelled at too much, I started playing in constant fear that if I did make mistakes, someone would flip out about it.

My coworkers and I were comparing soccer stories as we watched the USA match, and one of the nicest guys there told us about one of his last games as a kid when the other team’s families kept yelling to “take out that little fat boy!” (him being the fact boy). That’s awful, and that’s not even the worst example I could come up with. We can pretend words don’t hurt all we want, but they do, and when you’re a child they shape your perception of yourself. Is it so surprising that he quit that year?

So I understand why I quit, but on the other hand I really wish that I had stuck it out for two main reasons.

1. People are jerks. While it’s appalling that we treat our children this way and I am in no way excusing the behavior, we have to learn to expect it. By continuing to quit activities when they turned stressful and had too many expectations, I merely learned to avoid stress and negativity, not how to actually deal with it. This is why I had no good stress busting habits until in my 20s. 

2. I like how I felt when I played soccer. In a word, I felt empowered. You may not believe this (no one ever does), but I was a defensive TANK. I once managed to even knock my coach down when he tried to get past me. Clearly, it didn’t happen. I was a very aggressive player on defense. I was confident on the field at an age where I otherwise felt awkward and ridiculous. I miss that feeling.

And that is the main moral to this otherwise rambling post. When I think about quitting soccer, I still understand my reasons, but I am ashamed that I let people take away my joy without at least trying to work through it. Don’t give up on what really makes you happy. But don’t expect it to always be easy either. Sometimes we need some growing pain to actually, you know, grow.

Perfume: Not for the Weak

In case you didn’t know, later this month is National Celebration of the Senses Day. As a Taurus, known lovers of sensual pleasures and luxuries, I will be honoring this holiday to the extreme. For those of you that are a little less inclined to overindulging your senses, I offer a guilt-free alternative. Watch Perfume.

What, you’ve never heard of this movie? I’m not surprised. It’s entirely possible the only reason I know about it is that in college we made a habit of looking up Alan Rickman movies (for Alan Rickman movie night, duh). The full name is Perfume: The Story of a Murderer. It is based on a book, but I only brought myself around to reading it some time after first seeing the movie. I didn’t particularly care for the book. I believe my friend Jenn prefers it though, so don’t take my opinion as a reason not to read it.

Perfume is an interesting movie. I shy away from terms like “good” for this one, but there are things about it that I find very compelling. There are also parts that are a total mind screw, just to warn you. I happened upon a post the other day that notes Perfume “both suffers from and subsequently plays with the fact that film is still a medium that cannot engage all of our senses, such as smell,” which I consider both remarkably accurate, and one of the main reasons I (somewhat) enjoy the movie.

The main gist of Perfume is that there is a character, Jean-Baptiste, who has such a heightened sense of smell that he experiences the world in an entirely different manner from the rest of us. He fears losing wonderful smells, and becomes a perfume apprentice in order to learn how to capture scent. His goal evolves to try and create the perfect perfume.

While this is an interesting premise, I can’t say the storyline is the draw for me. That’s probably why I didn’t really care for the book. What I find fascinating is the way the movie tries to get the viewer to experience what Jean-Baptiste experiences. Obviously, we can’t. We can’t smell things through the tv. What they do instead is use visuals and audio to pull us into the same mindset. This is what I so thoroughly enjoy about the movie.

The other interesting aspect of the movie is the ending. While I’m not going to give away any spoilers here, we used to make people watch Perfume just to see how they reacted to the end.

This is a movie that I feel like everyone should watch at least once, and then I’d enjoy discussing it with them, but there’s a good possibility you may dislike it or be morally offended. So since I like lists, here are some reasons to either watch, or not watch it.

Reasons to Watch Perfume

5. Dustin Hoffman wears a wig. What, that’s not a good enough reason for you?? His scenes are plenty great without the wig, but it’s nonetheless a source of delight.

4. The dark humor is amusing if you like that type of thing.

3. The visuals (in my opinion) are stunning.

2. If nothing else, it raises tons of great questions about life, meaning, beauty, sociopaths, and so on and so forth.

1. Alan Rickman portrays potentially the fictional world’s best father (Liam Neeson is probably winning that contest); very appropriate as Father’s Day is also coming up.

Reasons Perfume May Traumatize or Offend You

5. There’s violence.

4. There’s nudity.

3. There’s a casual disregard of humanity.

2. There are religious references and some religious figures involved in unseemly behavior.

1. The ending, pardon my French (that’s a joke by the way, since the movie is based in France. I knew you didn’t know that so I was nice enough to clarify), is a total “what the f*ck” experience.

This will take on a whole new meaning...

If you do watch it, or have watched it before, please find me (that can be virtually, we don’t need to get into a stalking scenario) and tell me your thoughts! I will say this, the movie left such a strong impression on me that I spent several subsequent days with trash cans placed in front of my door. This is actually my friend Jenn’s top reason for why you should watch Perfume, and it will make more sense once you do!

Baking with Wry

There’s a common misconception that I’m a nice person. Even people that have known me for awhile get confused on this matter. Someone at my current job said that I don’t “have an angry bone” in my body, which is super untrue. Another friend at my previous job told a coworker that I am “the nicest person ever.”

PB & banana muffins

I think what confuses everyone is the baking. Possibly also my face, but mainly the baking.

I love to bake. My first attempt was in college, when my brother was coming to visit and I wanted to surprise him with cookies. Then when my friend Erin moved to California, I took up the mantle of office baker. Initially I stuck with cookies & cakes. Since moving to Austin I have experimented with breads, cake balls, and one time I tried making a pie. I then distribute my baked goods to neighbors, friends, and coworkers. This apparently gives people the impression that I am a kind person, and baking for their benefit.

Generally, that’s not the case. Don’t get me wrong, there are instances (like birthdays, or when someone’s sad) where I’m baking for the other person to give them delicious goodies, and thus happiness (remember I’m a Taurus, we equate food with pleasure). The majority of the time though, I just want to bake, so I do. Then I’m stuck with all these stupid cookies/muffins/scones/whatever and don’t want to eat them. Giving people the food allows me the pleasure of baking without having to eat it. So in reality, it’s kind of a selfish thing. Don’t believe me? Let’s look at my top 5 reasons to bake:

Cookies!

5. Bored-baking

4. Baking to eat cookie dough

3. Baking to dance around the kitchen (baking/cleaning justifies it)

2. Happy-baking

1. Stress-baking (depending on the stress level, sometimes rage-baking)

Given that I still can’t jazzercise because of my knee (over 4 weeks and counting, I’m having withdrawal), I have been baking up a storm. Everyone at work is getting spoiled. However, I found myself in the midst of a dilemma.

Bread basket (THAT WAS HARD!!)

I do own a hand mixer. My lovely mother got it for me a Christmas or two ago. Prior to that, I never used any sort of mixer when baking. I normally make do with a fork. When I first brought my mixer home I was a little intimidated by it. So to make it more approachable, I named it Ryan, quickly shortened to Ry. This worked to get me to use it a few times but the thing is, if I’m truly stress-baking, I prefer to use the fork. Especially with making bread… it is so amazingly satisfying to beat that freaking dough into submission.

With my knee hurting though, I wanted to bake, but I also wanted to severely cut down on my standing time. I think I’ve used Ry more in the past 4 weeks than I have the entire last year. And you know what? He’s handy. I like him. I think moving forward I’ll be seeing more of Ry for happy or bored baking, but maybe stick to my trusty fork for the rage-baking.

I can’t honestly say I’m a “good” baker. To be fair, the only things that turned out “bad” were my first few bread attempts. I was estimating at my water temperature at first and apparently I’m a horrible estimator. Once I got a baking thermometer my bread started looking like bread instead of scary dough lumps.

Watermelon cupcakes

My problem might be my perfectionism. I constantly think the final result could be better. Just last week I made some oatmeal chocolate chip cookies that I didn’t like at all, but they were DEVOURED at work. Of course, I don’t even like oatmeal cookies. I can’t remember the last time I had one. Which brings me to my top 5 baking challenges:

5. Making things a consistent size

4. Spreading anything evenly (I rarely if ever use my rolling pin, so that could be a large part of the problem)

3. Judging whether or not fruit is properly ripe and should be used

2. Chopping any type of fruit (although apples are the worst. There’s a good chance I will lose a finger making apple cookies one of these days)

1. Attempting to make things that I don’t even know what the final result should look/taste like

I like to expand my horizons and try new things that people request, but half the time I’ve not only never made it before, I haven’t eaten it in years, if ever, so I’m not entirely sure if it really turns out okay or not.

SO MUCH BAKING

Actually no matter what I’m making, even if I’m made it multiple times before, there comes a point in the baking process where I’m convinced it’s going to end horrible and I’ve messed it up beyond repair. So I shrug, maybe take a sip of wine, and carry on. Worst case scenario, it’s inedible, and I can live with that. That may be one of the other reasons I like baking. I know I’m a perfectionist. I know I stress out constantly over stupid little things. I know very well while baking I will become convinced that I’ve done it all wrong and it will be nasty beyond repair. On the other hand, I know I’m having a great time attempting it, and even if something does turn out bad, it’s not the end of the world.

So does baking make me a nice person? I’m going with no. Totes no. If you really want to think I’m a nice person, that’s fine, but let’s all accept that the baking has nothing to do with it.

I Just Wanna Dance

I love to dance. For serious. It’s one of my favorite things in the world.

A little over three weeks ago I hurt my knee. I generally don’t care too much (one can always drink more to ignore the pain) except that I haven’t been able to jazzercise, and since at times I can barely walk I also haven’t really been dancing. It’s feeling a little better today so I’ve been groovin’ around the apartment. Of course that probably means it’ll be worse tomorrow, but that is literally a problem for another day!

Now just because I love to dance, one should not assume I am a “good” dancer, or that I like any kind of dancing. If you said you loved music, would I assume that means you love every genre there is? I mean maybe you do, but you know what happens when you assume.

My brother is actually a pretty decent dancer. He was impressing my friend Kate with his moves last weekend. I was super happy they played Gangnam Style because he loves it and rocks the hell out of that song.

My own love of dancing started young. There are some home videos of my parents playing Paula Abdul songs and me prancing about the living room at like 3 or 4 years old (my brother is also there shaking his diaper butt around a little. It’s pretty funny). I spent half my young years begging my parents to let me take ballet, and finally my friends and I were enrolled at a studio.

None of us were particularly good at that point. I kept with it for a few more years though, dreaming of someday becoming a famous ballerina like my teacher. My dad built me a barre so I could do my stretches and exercises at home. I made gradual progress, as evidenced by my yearly role in the Nutcracker. I started with super small things like the angels behind the Sugar Plum Fairy, a party guest, to mouse, and eventually I was one of the dolls at the party that dances around after it’s wound up. The doll was my favorite. Plus, I was an adorable doll. No, really!

That's me!

However that year my instructor determined I was ready to move to toe shoes and start taking classes basically every day with the more serious students, and I promptly quit. This is actually one of my worst traits; I do tend to quit when things get too hard (this also happened with piano, trumpet, soccer, cheerleading, and god knows what else). After that I took a year of jazz, and then stopped dancing altogether. 

I was ecstatic in middle school when they started holding school dances. My main motivation to move up to high school was the fact that they had dances more often. Everyone else worried about who they were going with and what they were going to wear. I could care less. Honestly I preferred going by myself so I didn’t have to deal with someone the entire evening. Same thing when I turned 21: I was more excited about going to bars to dance than I was about the ability to drink legally. You know that Dane Cook spiel about women going to bars and dancing around their shoes in a circle going “I just wanna dance!” Yeah, that’s totally me.

Now some people have taken this to mean I would enjoy things like going to salsa or swing dancing. Since you don’t know until you try, I have gone to salsa once or twice, and I hate it. Basically it comes down to the problem that I don’t really like dancing with people, and I especially hate dances where someone else is in charge and directing me around. One of my friends claims this is an example of my “control issues,” but I’m not even going to designate that nonsense with a response. I don’t particularly like grinding for the same reasons (not to mention that basically it’s a random person attacking me with their crotch for an extended amount of time, but to music. I don’t see how that makes it better).

My typical Saturday morning

What do I like? I like dancing at bars, weddings, around my house in my underwear, or hell, anywhere that has music playing. I’ll dance in the middle of the store. I’ll dance about in the living room at a house party while everyone stares at me like I’m a lunatic. You know that knee injury I mentioned? Well, this time around it was from jazzercise, but the initial injury was actually back in November, dancing like a madwoman at the office party!

I can’t say I dance particularly well. I dance what I feel, and it’s not super awesome or snazzy. Half the time I feel like I’m really dancing to the wrong beat, or at least not the same beat everyone else is moving to. I mainly dance with my hips, and there have been implications in the past (and outright statements) that I dance like a stripper, but I don’t really see it.

But the best thing is, I don’t even care. You know that quote to “dance like nobody’s watching?” That’s what I do. I dance pretty much the same when I’m in my apartment baking as when I’m out at the bar. If someone offered to teach me to “dance well” I’d probably ignore them, because I have fun the way I dance and it doesn’t matter to me how it appears to other people. I don’t want to think about it, I just want to do it.

This is probably why I love dancing so much.  With everything else in life I am constantly worrying about what other people think and if they’re judging me. When it comes to dancing, I’m honestly have a “to hell with it” attitude, and that’s amazing. Now if only I could apply that to other areas of my life, I’d be set!

A Neek and Misfit's Guide to Dating

So you may or may not already be aware that my friend Erin was my inspiration to start writing a blog. I look to Erin as a mentor as well as being a kickass friend, so I have been very touched by her support as I developed my writing. I will say right here and now that if it wasn’t for Erin I would never have attempted, let alone made it through, my NaNoWriMo adventure in November.

We like to discuss our ideas for posts together, and since we are the same person (on some levels) there are a lot of times when we have some overlap. Additionally, both Erin and I may be mildly obsessed with Buzzfeed. We discovered this post (which you should read first) from Buzzfeed Community member Doriean Stevenson back in February. Old timey dating advice is hysterical but also mildly disturbing, so we thought maybe we should add our take to the discussion to keep it fresh. Thus was born our first joint post!

Part one of the post appeared on the Island and part two is here below. Yes, you should read part one before part two if you haven't already. Think of it as a cross-country conversation (since we sadly don’t live in the same state anymore) between Erin and I during happy hour. Apparently we were both hitting the wine as we worked on this, which is basically the same thing and half the reason why it’s so awesome. #hemingwaywasadrunk 

My comments below are in black, and Erin's responses are in blue. This is the reverse of part one. Why? We like to keep people on their toes.

#8
The main problem I have with this is the alleged link between jokes at dinner and sarcasm. I demand data to support this conclusion. Does this mean if I joke at other points of the day I won’t become sarcastic? What about joking during breakfast? It must have something to do with the type of food you’re eating while joking, which is why breakfast is safe. So basically I’ve taken this to mean that joking is still acceptable as long as you have breakfast for dinner. Done.

Waffles are pretty funny. And so are pancakes when people make pancake faces using bananas and bacon. Of course, breakfast for dinner is the best meal I can think of and now I want to make pancakes. I also have to wonder if we’re allowed to make jokes at other times of the day. What if we’re no longer at dinner and I make a joke on the way to the car? Is car walking sarcasm acceptable? If so, then I will cultivate this as new marketable skill.
#9
Now this might just be me, but there are very few people I can stand to see more than three evenings during the week on a consistent basis. I need a lot of me time. If there was a guy that I could put up with that much I suppose I might as well get engaged to them.
Of course these days, “visiting a lady” probably also entails spending the night, at which point, as per Sheldon Cooper’s definition of dating, you’re technically living together. See definition below:
“A girlfriend shall be deemed quote living with un-quote Leonard when she has stayed over for A, ten consecutive nights or B, more than nine nights in a three week period or C: all the weekends of a given month plus three weeknights.”

I can’t disagree with Sheldon Cooper. Like you, I also need me time because I’m an introvert and I need time to recharge before I deal with people again. My apartment is too small for a guy to be around that much so until I find a larger place where we could both have our space, I’m okay with this one.
#10
I actually agree with the idea of this one, but I think it needs tweaking. I would suggest that you never accept a proposal from someone under the following circumstances:
They just had a near-death experience
They’re drunk
They’re under the influence of mind altering drugs (whether they be recreational or medical makes no difference)
Their nemesis just got engaged
That being said, I would note that both my father and brother somewhat proposed while drunk, and while this ended up working out for my father, it didn’t end well for my brother.

I’m so glad that you mentioned having a nemesis! You should never do anything if a person’s (or your) nemesis just did the same thing. This will never end well. I would also like to add the following items to our list of circumstances in which you should never accept a proposal:

They just had lunch with their mother.
Their sibling just got married, had a baby, or bought a home. Or all three.
They’ve spent the last several hours on whichever social media site they prefer seeing all the things that all the people are doing that they’re not.
They often begin sentences with “I liked (insert subject) before liking them was cool.”
They just attended a high school or college reunion.
They just returned from their best friend’s bachelor/bachelorette party in Las Vegas.
They just got a new phone and have not mastered the autocorrect settings.
They are a werewolf.

#11
For serious. This is pretty much unavoidable, but using my life theory as determined by The Sims you can help cut down on some of the unpleasantness. Oh what, you’ve never heard of my Sims Life Theory? No worries.
If you’ve never played The Sims before, the main thing to know is that people have several bars, including a “social” bar, that affect their overall happiness. To keep the social bar full the Sim must engage in social interaction they enjoy. This generally means it is with a person they like, or it’s something they’ve demonstrated liking before. For example, some Sims like a lot of jokes in their conversation. Some get pissy about people that joke too much (they’re probably afraid of that link with sarcasm mentioned above). The important thing is that every Sim needs a different level of interaction to get their bar full, and then the bar decays at different rates.
What this boils down to is that it’s important to know how much interaction your partner likes. If their bar gets full quickly and you keep on joking around when they want to focus on their low food bar or their full bladder bar, it’s not going to end well. This is probably what drives people to cannibalism.

I would probably die in the Sims world. Or become the cannibal in the neighborhood. Does reading quietly at home with the cat while drinking a glass of wine have any value in the Sims world?
\#12
I suck at leaving. Unless I legitimately have something I need to do, I tend to be the person that lingers. This probably ties in with my #FOMO issues. I am convinced that if I leave a party, or leave my friends, something awesome will happen. This fear is more prevalent in our generation than you realize. Besides earning a catchy abbreviation, it has also shown up in popular shows like How I Met Your Mother where the person leaving and missing the awesomeness becomes known as the Blitz. You know what, it probably would behoove me to start leaving things more often. This might be my May project. Or maybe June, because there should be some good stuff going on in May…

One of my favorite movies from the late 80s is Shag. It’s about a group of friends in 1964 South Carolina who take a trip to Myrtle Beach to have one last adventure before they head off to their futures. Annabeth Gish plays Pudge (her real name is Caroline) and Bridget Fonda plays Malaina. Malaina is the authority on boys and as you can guess from the nickname, Pudge is the quiet, awkward one who used to be fat. Anyway, Pudge falls for a boy named Chip and Malaina’s advice to her is to treat him like dirt, walk away, and then give him 10 minutes to apologize (even if he did nothing). That’s how you get your man - you treat them poorly and walk away. Pudge listens to this nonsense then decides Malaina is wrong. She and Chip enter that dance contest and all is righted in the universe. I guess the whole art of leaving idea is to cultivate your mystery because mystery equals allure. And allure is what all the men in the world are interested in. Or something.
#13
I’m not going to lie, I instantly judge people based on their spelling and grammar. I am willing to overlook what I view as “style” choices, like texting/typing ppl instead of people, if they appear sparingly. Pure misspelling though is an instant turnoff. Especially since almost everything this day has spell check! What, are you deliberately misspelling those messages? Do you think that makes you cool?! It doesn’t.  It makes me want to smack you roughly about the head with a dictionary so I can pretend it may be brain damage causing the issue.

I started teaching high school right around the time texting was surpassing instant messaging as the communication choice of teenagers. I spent countless evenings grading writing assignments that included text speak rather than actual words. Between that and the misspellings, the papers were always a sea of red. I could never be this blunt with my students but what was always going through my mind as I graded was, “This makes you look like an idiot.”

There’s a line the song “Friday Night” by The Darkness that sums up my feelings about this:

See the lady I adore
Dancing on the dancing floor
Dancing on a Friday night
God, the way she moves me
To write bad poetry
Dancing on a Friday night
With you.

I don’t care if you write bad poetry about me, just make sure it’s spelled correctly.


#14
Not to bring in some political madness or anything, but how does that account for same-sex relationships? Are they automatically better?
Taking gender out of it, I actually think this ties in with this amazing theory that some of my old coworkers introduced me to (old as in sadly former, not old as in age. If for some reason they end up reading this please do not get mad and come to Texas to injure me) which is called Love Languages. The whole idea is that people communicate their affection based on they would want to feel loved, when you should find out what your partner likes and use that method. Apparently I respond best to people paying attention to me, and doing favors for me. That makes soooooo much sense and explains like half of my lifetime crushes.
I’d definitely suggest checking out this theory. Here’s the website: http://www.5lovelanguages.com/

Are you sure we’re not the same person? I just took the Love Languages quiz and I also like people to pay attention to me through quality time and for them to do things for me. This makes a ton of sense if I look at my life. What I think we’re getting at is that people need to communicate with one another about what they want and don’t want in relationships. It’s not to say that we shouldn’t compromise when needed but it’s important to understand how the person you love or care for deeply responds best or what they need to feel loved and appreciated. One of my friends told me, not too long after the birth of her first child, that the only thing she wanted from her husband was for him to do the dishes. She would change the diapers, get up in the middle of the night, whatever else but she had no energy for the dishes. That was more important to her than any token or kind word he could have said - she needed the gesture. So I guess what we’re both saying is that, yes, each person loves and wants to be loved in their own way. It’s the combination of the two parts that makes it work.


#15
Because I basically live my life off Jennifer Crusie books, I would simplify this to a quote from Faking It:
“Very few people mate for life with the people they fall for at twelve. Doesn't mean it isn't real, doesn't mean it doesn't hurt, doesn't mean it doesn't matter, but basically, we're talking a practice swing in the big game of love.”
Of course if you have a foolproof method for identifying which is a practice swing and which is the big game, then you should tell me. Or alternatively write a book about it and make a million dollars (and then share with me).  

I too love Jennifer Crusie (Jessica introduced me to her) and love this quote so much. I remember the boy I liked at age 12 would not even be on my radar now mostly because he insisted on wearing his collar popped every time he wore a polo shirt. I could also argue that the last guy I dated is not someone I would consider today either and that wasn’t that long ago. We all need our practice swings. I would also say that if anyone thinks fly-fishing is easy, they have never seen the movie A River Runs Through It. However, it’s also possible I was blinded by Craig Sheffer’s attractiveness.

And that's it for us! I hope you enjoyed our expert advice, and keep it in mind as you frolic about this weekend whether you're seeking a mate, currently in a relationship, or partial to sheep. #nojudge

31 Signs You May Have a Jazzercise Problem

1.     Within five minutes of talking to someone new you have mentioned jazzercise.

2.     Every time you hear a song on the radio that you’ve done in class, you announce to whoever’s nearby “this is also a jazzercise song.”

3.     Notice you say “also.” This is necessary because at some point you have already told them something is a jazzercise song.

4.     When you hear a jazzercise song you inevitably run through the routine in your mind.

5.     How much you like/dislike a song now depends on how much you like/dislike a jazzercise routine.

6.     Certain songs tied to REALLY HARD strength routines make you cringe within 5 seconds of starting to play.

7.     This happens even when you’re not in a jazzercise class and they’re simply playing on the radio.

8.     When planning a vacation, you check to see if there’s a jazzercise location nearby.

9.     You plan your social events for the week around your jazzercise schedule.

10. You plan your work week around your jazzercise schedule.

11. You plan your meals for the day around your jazzercise schedule.

12. You become confrontational and may even threaten people when they throw off your jazzercise schedule.

13. You no longer like holidays, because classes are cancelled and it ruins the jazzercise schedule.

14. Friends have offered to come to a jazzercise class simply because that may be the only time they see you.

15. You have to consciously plan out ahead of time days to skip class so you have a “rest” day.

16. You’ve done laundry only for the jazzercise clothes.

17. You’ve run the dishwasher half full (or less) because you wanted your favorite water bottle for jazzercise.

18. In class, people have started avoiding your standard spot.

19. You have done the routines so many times you recognize when the instructors make mistakes.

20. You have helped the instructors correct their mistakes.

21. You have been asked multiple times to become an instructor.

22. When visiting other jazzercise classes, you have been mistaken for an instructor.

23. You’ve gotten less than five hours of sleep because you woke up for jazzercise class in the morning.

24. You’ve driven over an hour out of your way to go to a jazzercise class.

25. You’ve offered to be the designated driver simply because you’re planning on going to jazzercise the next morning.

26. Missing three days of class in a row throws you into a panic.

27. Even if you are legitimately sick for one or more of those days.

28. Even if you are still incredibly sore and experiencing muscle cramps for one or more of those days.

29. Even if there are exciting, rare social events during those days which is why you’re missing class in the first place.

30. You have to call your mother or best friend for approval to feel okay about skipping a jazzercise class when it’s not a planned “rest” or “skip” day.

31. When you realize that you accidentally missed class because you forgot it was cancelled and you didn’t go to the earlier one, you have to console yourself by making a list of why you have a jazzercise “problem” so you feel a little less guilty.