On Wednesday, my friend Dave calls me and says, “Hey Jenni, let’s go for a bike ride.” Awesome. I’m always up for something outdoors and athletic to get me away from melting in front of my computer screen. I was thinking our ride would look something like this:

But, much to my surprise, I showed up at Dave’s house and he looked a little bit more like this:

Ok, so I was caught a little bit off guard. But I am an easy going gal, and even though I was in climbing pants and approach shoes I figured “What the heck?” I got on the bike as Dave proceeded to tell me that we were going to do a twenty mile loop around Huntington Beach and Bolsa Chica.

Twenty Miles.

Ok, for those of you who ride bikes a lot, you might be rolling your eyes at me. Apparently, riding twenty miles for bikes is the equivalent of running 5 miles. Easily done. Right.

Seven miles in, Dave stops me, telling me that his bike is wobbling, and that he needs to check the tires. Yep, you guessed it. Tire blown. We back tracked a little down to a gas station to see if we could fill the tire, and make it back to the house on a slow leak. But, to no avail, 15 minutes after filling, he was wobbling all over again.

So, twenty mile bike route turns to walking….while pushing bikes. And keep in mind, I am in approach shoes.

   <- Yeah, NOT a running shoe.

But, at this point we are on the beach, and it is a gorgeous day. Phenomenal. And I’m easy going, and athletic. So….we walk. We walk like NINE miles.  And at some point, I notice that the sun is going down – and I have to be somewhere at 6:30. Right – I am not going to make it. So I ask Dave…”At what point do we turn around? Or loop back up towards your house?”

“Oooooooh!” He says, we needed to turn around like 5 miles back that way.

Seriously.

So, around we turn (only after stopping for smoothies at Jamba Juice – where Dave got some healthy orange drink, and I got a chocolate-banana-peanut butter glory shake…which I found out later had NINE HUNDRED CALORIES in it…..barf.)

At this point it’s dark. And clear that we aren’t going to make it. And now that we have biked, and walked….it’s time for the third leg of our new kind of triathlon…. RIDING THE BUS. I’m even cracking up as I write this. Yes, waited at a bus stop, and loaded our cycles into the rack on the front of the bus so we could be shuttled home.

But here’s the best part – while loading our bikes, I was having a hard time getting my bike onto the rack. SO… I apparently stepped into on coming traffic. How did I know this? Because the bus driver lays on the horn and starts screaming at me to get out of the street.  And later, while trying to buy a ticket (thanks Dave – I’ve never taken public transport before and had NO idea what I was doing), he screams at Dave for taking too long! Dave says “Sorry, I just can’t find where the coins go…”

He replies, “In the coin slot.”

Again – not a joke.

It is only after being yelled at one last time for not being “far back enough” (?? Yeah, I still don’t know what he was talking about), before we were seated, situated, and I started looking around the bus. In case you didn’t realize, the weirdest people in the world ride the bus. You had classic Asian Lady-that-wouldn’t-stop-talking, big haired lady, Mexican day laborers, crazy bike man….a whole slew of characters.

It is then that it dawns on me. I want to write about the bus. I want to ride the bus every day, and write about what I see. I mean, as a writer, I don’t think you can get better material. I want to know what big-haired lady thinks, and I want to tell the stories of Mexican Day Laborer. Yep.

So, fan and readers of all kinds, be on the look out. Sometime in the near future, Cherry Blossom Thoughts is about to undergo a big change. Let’s call it a face lift. And hopefully more than just new graphics, we will have some great new content and stories on their way.

And for my adventure with Dave…

Who says that Triathlons can’t be a Bike, a Walk and a Bus Ride?

Still unemployed.

It’s been 12 weeks.  That’s 3 months. That’s means when you balance the two out, I have more months than money.   I’m officially bleeding red, and waiting ever so patiently for Unemployment Insurance to get their act together and send me a check in the mail (yes, somehow all of my paper work has gotten lost, twice, and 12 weeks later I’m checking the mail box like an anxious 5 year old).

Let me not get sidetracked. The issue of being broke is, obviously, associated with being unemployed.  Thankfully, a simple check from Unemployment will clear that up. What cannot be resolved with a check  is the new mindset slowly developing as the unemployed weeks pass. You see, I was fortunate to have been given the expert services of Lee Hetch Harrison.  They are an executive placement company that has mastered the technique of job searching, and they offer resources that I could not put a price on (although, I’m sure they do have prices attached somewhere).  LHH has been a critical part of discovering what goes on in the mind of “The Unemployed,” as I am not only completing their program myself, but I am also spending the majority of the day with other unemployed individuals.

There is an office that I go to a few times a week. I get dressed in a suit, wave at the receptionist, make coffee, call contacts, read emails, and schmooze around the “water cooler.” I even attend meetings! Although these things may look and feel much like a job – dear friend don’t be fooled. The only payment from these efforts will be the payoff of a job offer.

Now, part of the program is my Job Search Work Team that meets every week. They are amazing. Each week we come in with our charts and notebooks and papers, feeling important…or trying to feign importance. We go around the room and talk about how many contacts we have made that week, who we spoke with, and upcoming highlights. We discuss job postings  (and believe me, at times there aren’t many), interviews, and troubleshoot sticky situations that might arise.   This week, one of my favorite characters, a gay writer (of course),  makes the most insightful comment as we are walking into the meeting room.

 “Why is it that not having a job just seems to bring out all of my insecurities? God! Going on a job interview makes me feel like an anxious 16 year old on a first date all over again!”

He’s RIGHT!

Not having a job is like going through a break up every single day. You may think I am being dramatic, but I am not kidding!

• Pouring through Internet sites, looking for potential new jobs that would be a “good match“…sound like match.com anyone?
• Going on that first interview, where you are looking to have “Chemistry” with a company – they need to like you, you need to  like them, you need to value the same things, and you need to see eye to eye on the important things.
• They say they’ll call, and you wait by the phone…for what feels like FOREVER.
• Even if the job isn’t the right “fit” for you, and you KNOW you don’t want to work there, it still hurts to be told no.  “I want to break up with them first!” Sound familiar? (yeah, its called my Friday night last week).
• If you have good “chemistry” with HR, they ask you on a second date, I mean interview…but this time with the hiring manager. Talk about pressure!
• Sometimes they bring in a “Panel Interview.” Is this like  the “Want to meet my family?” conversation that inevitably comes up too early in dating?
• When you get all the way through the Panel Interview, and they DON”T offer you the job, there is always going to be some friend consoling you over lunch or drinks, telling you “Honey, you didn’t want to work for them anyway. I bet that guy was an asshole!”
• And even if they give you a job offer (which is like an engagement ring) – it has a numerical value tied to how much they like you. It’s called your salary. Or your carat size. Same difference.

In short, being unemployed can make you resilient,  or it can destroy you. I suppose whichever one comes first. As I sit every morning, pouring over my “Positioning statement” (I am a highly proficient business professional with expertise in communication both written and verbal…), I can’t help but feel like a sixteen year old girl, staring in the mirror saying “I’m pretty, and funny, and smart, and cute, and outgoing…” and trying to make myself believe it.

Maybe Prince Charming is out there. Maybe right now, he’s sitting at a restaurant table and sharing a laugh and a drink with my future boss.  Maybe they’re buddies. Maybe they both don’t know it, but I’m sitting here, waiting to have the chance to radically change both of their worlds.

Until I find the road to that restaurant table to schmooze with my future life, I suppose I’ll keep looking, all the while reciting to myself …

“I’m a beautiful business professional, who’s great at being a girlfriend and has expertise in communication, both written and verbal…”

This past week, a good friend of mine and I drove up to Northern California on a road trip. Being in the car for seven hours lead us to some great conversation about dating. She is in a pretty serious relationship with a man that I think is legit. And as they have encroached on “The M Word” (marriage), it has brought about some difficult, wonderful, and pithy conversation. What I love about my friend is that she is a wholesome girl who hasn’t dated a lot, and so there are moments where she is telling me what to do with my life, and then will turn and say, “So how exactly do I work this out with my man?”

Those are the moments where I actually feel like I bring something intelligent to the friendship, because dating is a subject that I do happen to know a thing or two about. I remember reading somewhere in college that in order to be considered an “Expert” on something, you have to have spent 10 -20 years of your life doing it. Considering that I started dating at the tender age of 12 – I think its fair to stay that I have earned my way into the Expert Category.

Now don’t get me wrong – dating is still a bitch. By nature it is uncomfortable, vulnerable, inconsistent, confusing, and frustrating. And by no means is there a formula when it comes to navigating through the episodes of courtship; I am convinced that one simply gets better at reading the signs, knowing oneself, and communicating to your partner. And obviously being an expert at dating doesn’t mean that you are going to get promoted to fiancee or wife…because I’m still single. And I would merely be self consious of my expertise experience and yet single status, except for the fact that Carrie Bradshaw paved the way for us by being single, an expert dater, and fabulous well into her 40s before she settled with Mr. Big. I’m pretty sure her experience proves that you can be great and dating and still single. In light of  having seen all Sex and the City episodes more that 100 times, I believe that being great at dating means you just get better navigating through the dating world – getting out of bad situations before they get worse, making awkward situations better, and making good situations great ones.

What I did realize through my conversation with my girlfriend is that over the years of bad dates and bleeding hearts, I managed to learn a few things along the way. And the most important tool in my dating arsenal is learning to speak man. Yes, ladies, men speak a completely different language all together. We may be both speaking English, but watch the newest Carl’s Jr. commercials and you will see what I am talking about (”I thought you were taking me out for a steak dinner!”)

I am by no means claiming to be fluent in man – please, I don’t want to brag beyond my credentials. I can however confidently state that I have “Basic Conversational Skills” in Man-Speak.

So ladies, out of my little black dating handbook, here are some suggestions on the way to talk man to your man (and who knows – you might actually get lucky and he will understand what you want!).

1. Men are SIMPLE.

Now, I said simple NOT stupid. I know there are a lot of angry feminist, jaded teenagers, or pissed off divorcees that would love to disagree with me. But despite the sterotype that men are the  perennial cave man, I have to remind us all that men are very capable. Now, given a GOOD man, chances are that they will do almost anything asked of them – especially if by the women that they love. Its just that you have to learn to put it into terms where they can hear you. As women, emotionally we have about 1,000 knobs, switches, buttons. We tend to speak in spaghetti thoughts, combining countless ideas, emotions, and tangents. Our girl friends are amazing at tracking with us, understanding where we are going, and landing at the same conclusions. Men are not mental multitaskers.  If you want your man to track with you and be able to say “Yes!”, you need to keep things simple (think inclusive, clear, logical and concise). Which leads me to point two….

2. No Emotional Vomit

In the middle of my dating “career” (ha – I wish I could have been paid for those years!…unless that would make me a prostitute…in which case never mind….) I came to place where I recognized unhappiness in my relationship, but was really awful at communicating. I am an verbal processor, I need to talk my way through things to find out what I need, what I want, and how to get it. Girls, doing this with your boyfriend is not always the best move. Coming to your man with your eyes welled with tears, and simply blowing emotional chunks on him (come on we’ve all done it), while it may be relieving for you – causes panic in men! Men are fixers. You come to them with a problem, they don’t want to hash it out verbally – they want to get you a solution. And we women don’t want your solutions! We want you to liiiiisten, and to hear us, and to cuddle us and tell us its ok. Now I am NOT saying that your men cannot handle emotions. They should be able to handle when you come to them falling apart. (And guys, when your girl comes to you falling apart you hug her, kiss her, hold her and ask, “what can I do to help you feel better?”) What I am saying is that when you need to hash things out, when you need to talk it through…call your mom, your girlfriend, or your sister. They can handle the hashing, and close it up when the conversation is over. Men on the otherhand, just dont work that way.

3. Tell Him What You Want!

Big mistake I made when I was younger: I wasn’t doing a whole lot of telling. Now women, we’ve all seen 10 Things I Hate About You, where the guy comes in at the end singing, and confessing love, and he seems to know exactly what to say. Let me remind you this is a movie. In my younger years, I used to think that if I guy really liked me and loved me, I wouldn’t have to tell him what I wanted to hear – that he would automatically know the right thing. THIS IS A LIE FROM HOLLYWOOD. Men don’t know that you really want flowers, or to be taken to that new restaurant, or notice that you left a magazine on the coffee table open to the new perfume you wish he would buy for you. You have to tell him, and you have to do it gingerly and nicely. Same thing goes for when you are mad. They just don’t magically read your mind. When he says, “What’s wrong?” And you say, “Nothing.” ..but you really mean, “I want you to ask me 4 more times before I tell you.” – that doesn’t cut it.  You have to say, “Yesterday when you said ’XYZ’ it really hurt my feelings and I am mad at you.” Believe me, these words can be magic.

4. Polished Ideas

This is a somewhat combination of points 1 and 2. Again, men don’t thrive when you emotionally hash out ideas. So when he is doing something that you don’t like, you are angry with something, or you want something to change – you need to bring to him a polished idea. Like I said before, clear and concise information regarding what you don’t like. And that doesn’t mean demanding or nagging. Sometimes it just means saying, “Have you ever thought about this?” and laying your idea or need out there. He might take sometime to process, but a good man that loves you will 99% of the time say “ok!” and change what it is that is bothering you.

5. Follow up to point four – Don’t nag

Like I’d said, it may take some time to process new ideas. One thing that I love about my mother, is there are things that drive her CRAZY about my dad, and they have for years! And my mom has made note of them a few times, but then just let them be. And you know what? Sometimes it has taken a long time, but more often than not, my dad has come around and said, ” You know I am thinking about fixing this.” And my mom simply raises her eyebrow and says, “You know honey, I think that is a wonderful idea.” Talk about patience!

6. Be the cheerleader

This may be one of the most important points to a guy. You need to cheer him on. A man that knows that he is your hero is willing to do anything for you. And I don’t say this to tell you how to manipulate men, that’s ovbiously not the point. I say this because cheering on your man is the emotional “You’re beautiful” that we as women need. We need to be told that we are lovely, beautiful, and stunning. Men need to hear, “You can do it!” They need to be told that in the face of all that opposes them in this world, that we stand behind them. That they are smart enough, capable enough and brave enough to face the challenges of the day. I promise you, if you cheer your man on everyday, you will be amazed at all of the things that he goes after just because you voice your belief in him.

Ok, that’s all the secrets I have for you today. Like I said, I don’t speak fluent man, I simply have a small working knowledge. And hopefully it comes in handy for you in your relationships and marraiges. One can only hope that I get to put this all to good use sometime in the not too distant future.*

Since I have been home, spending much of my time par-oozing the Internet for employment opportunities, I have most definitely come across some amazing employment ideas. See, as my plans have begun to come together, I have looked into various options overseas. The thing is, I am looking tp possibly leave in approximately five to six months, so that means I will have to find some “temporary employment” options. And when you think about, you really can do anything for 5 to 6 months – which has allowed me to have some creative freedoms in the job search.

I have had some fairly safe employment ideas, such as being an admin or some sort of clerical worker. But then there have been moments where I have had marvelous ideas. There is one in particular that I am bent on trying to figure out how in the world such a beautiful idea went so wrong.

I want to be a mail carrier for the U.S. Postal Service.

Yes, you heard me correctly. I saw the job description, and suddenly knew that all of my worries in life were cured. I was going to get the most stunning job in the world – I had spinning images of me in dark blue Dickie shorts, socks pulled up my calves, and a tan wide brimmed hat. I would have a side satchel filled with mail slung over my crisp pin-stripped shirt, complete with “Jenni” embroidered over the pocket. I would be smiling, and I would have my ipod buds in both ears.

The birds are chirping, the sun is out, and the flowers are blooming. Maybe even the trees and the clouds would all magically have little faces and begin singing with me as I stroll down the street “Zip-it-y do da! Zip-it-y A!” I would smile at small children, and hand them their mail with a smile. “Go give this you your mommy!” And then I would pat their golden curls before they would run inside with the letters tucked under their little arms.

What job could be better?

Not to mention that any kind of government worker makes generous salaries, coupled with well rounded benefits, and unbelievable retirement packages. So clearly, my problems are solved. I am going to get a job with the U.S. Postal Service, and I am going to be a happy camper.

So I email my resume (seriously, I sent it in). Immediately, I get an email indicating that I am a “great match for the open position at the U. S. Postal Service!” Perfect! That was so quick!! The email continued to say that I needed to call the listed number and talk to one of their hiring specialist to get hired right away.

So what did  I do? I picked up the phone and called the hot line. A gentleman picked up, asking me if I had already sent in my resume. “Yes, I did,” I told him.

“Now,” he says to me, “Have you already had your test scores sent into our offices?”

Screeching Halt. “Test Scores?”

“Yes,” he continues, “There is a test that you will need to take first in order to be eligible to apply.”

My visions of little chirping birdies and singing flowers is already beginning to fade. “Can you please give me further information regarding this so called test?”

“Sure,” he says, “Its a test with about 100 questions on it…”

 ”What kind of questions?” I interrupt. “Is it like 1) Where does the mail go? …answer: in the mail box. 2)Do you shoot people when you get stressed out? …answer:No.”

He laughs. “Well Miss, not quite. Its a bit more intensive than that.”

 Crap. This is already way more work than I had planned on doing….and I havent even finished applying yet. He went onto explain that it is 100 questions, and it involves memorization of postal codes and various city limits, etc. He mentioned that there were study materials to help prepare for the test.

“Are you kidding me?” I ask him. “These people carry around these huge heavy bags all day long, you make them walk in all of the elements, and you are going to make them memorize all that crap before they can even apply? That’s a jip!”

He laughed. “The test is not actually that bad. And we do offer excellent retirement benefits. It really can be a great employment opportunity.”

“Ok,” I say, “I’ll take the test. Send me out the materials.” I figured that I can study between applying for other jobs. And who knows, it might be really easy! And then I can have my dream of wearing white socks pulled to my mid calf as I deliver mail to happy children.

“Ok,” He replies, “Did I tell you about the cost of materials?”

At this point I am literally raising my eyebrows. “Cost? You not only are going to make me take a test to have this crappy job….but you are going to make me PAY to take it? How much does it cost?”

ONE HUNDRED AND FIFTY DOLLARS.

Ladies and gentlemen, I kid you not. Your post man had to pay $150 of their own money to walk around all day and deliver mail. And that is when I decided that the U.S. Postal Service was the biggest jip around.

“You know, No thanks. I dont want to be a postal worker anymore.” I told him. And then I hung up before he could respond.

And do you want to know the crappy part? They have my email. And now they are sending me 3 emails a day to try to convince me to pay them to work for them.

U.S. Postal Service, you are a lie.

Tonight I went to a “Network Marketing” party thrown by my friend’s cousin. For those of you that are unfamiliar with the term “Network Marketing,” it is the marketing practice used by companies that try to get you to buy their products from one of their sales men; and then they get you become a salesmen yourself, recruiting your friends and family, until they become one of you, selling to their families and all of their friends. Some call the pyramid schemes, some call them genius money-makers, some call them straight out – a headache.

The product in discussion at this particular party was Monavie, the amazing “Super Fruit” juice, as endorsed by Oprah…and we all know, if Oprah says it goes, then you might as well etch it in stone, because its the God Honest Truth. In reality, I’m on the fence about the product itself. There are alot of doubts in my mind, like for example “Are we harvesting this precious Acai berry at the hands of the Brazilian farmers, both risking their lives and destroying the Amazon Forrest that it comes from – like blood diamonds?” And “Is this really that good for you? Or is this another shee-shee Newport mom drink that is going to work out all of the wonders of life?” Because I’m sure human beings couldn’t function as people before we found the technology to harvest the Acai berry and bottle it in wine bottles to sell for 45 bucks a pop. But who knows, like I said, I’m on the fence – I could be calling you in a few weeks to get you to have a “Tasting Party” so I can sucker you into the crap with me.

Now I have been to “Network Marketing” parties before, and we all hate them! Why we continue to accept the invitations is beyond me. Maybe we think that “I’ll really leave my wallet in the car this time, and I wont buy anything!” But they always end the same way. Me sitting there trying to convince myself that I really want to buy this over-priced novelty, while I fill out an order form.

The quintessential experience was the last time I went to a Party Lite Party. My girlfriend had bought the lie that if she really got into it and made it her full time job, she would make 3 million dollars a year….by selling over priced candles to her friends. Now here is the scene with that party:

There is a beautiful platter of strawberries, blueberries, brie cheese and crackers, decorated with small white doyleys. There couches are filled with beautiful women, dressed to the nines, as they politely listen to the sales pitch and thumb through the catalogue of products. By the end of the evening, the hostess is counting her orders, the guests are all questing why they just bought a candle for 36 dollars. All of the brie cheese is gone, and the fruit platter is demolished. The friends smile and hug, thanking each other for their time before they head for home.

Now let’s flip to the Monavie Party. There were also beautiful platters of strawberries, blueberries, brie cheese and crackers. But the major difference was that the Seller was a male, meaning that the majority of the guests were male. The speaker was a male. Now, we listened to the sales pitch, and most of the men sat with their arms crossed. By the end of the evening, all of the brie cheese and strawberries lay completely untouched, and the men were screaming at one another.  Ok, maybe not really screaming, but I think the word “explosive” was used to describe the events. The men didnt want to just sit with their hands folded and listen. They asked questions,…hard questions. They were calculating numbers, and debating right back at the speaker. And it wasn’t just one boisterous man, it was most of them.

Now here is the part that I get a bit jealous of. Those guys didnt walk to their cars asking themselves why they just bought a 46 dollar bottle of juice. The screamed their piece, they calmed down, they shook hands, and they went home as friends. No hard feelings…closed just like that. Now, my question is

Why can’t women do that?

I think if that would have happened at the PartyLite party, women would have gone home fuming, turning over the events of the evening, and calling her girlfriends to “Just make sure I’m not crazy on this one.” Now when I came home and told my roommate about my experience, she quickly responded “women are just more SENSITIVE to each others feelings!“

…? Ok women of the world…where is our logic in that!

We are more in tune with each others feelings, so we repress our own and buy things that we dont want? While the MEN just sit there and lay in all of the table. They feel irritated, they yell. They feel they disagree, they interrupt the speaker to interject their opinion. Isn’t THAT more on an example of being in touch with your feelings….so we can express them to one another? If we as women are SO MUCH MORE in touch with emotions, shouldnt we be SO MUCH BETTER at expressing them to one another? Telling each other what we feel? And the cherry on this Sundae is the part where all the men could just STOP – realize that the conversation WAS NOT personal – they cracked open a beer, hugged it out  and headed for the door. No hard feelings, just like that.

Monavie or no Monavie…I’m stumped. Sorry girls, but I can’t help but be envious of the guys on this one. They seem to have to “Emotional communication” way more figured out than we do. And even thought I’ve been walking around feeling and thinking woman thoughts and feelings my whole life…..I still think we’re crazy.

Today, I heard about a gal in her twenties that had been dating a guy for 10 months. Apparently, they had an amazing relationship, where they rarely fought, they had romantic dates, they had friends and parties together. In her mind, they were well on their way to a chapel, wedding cakes, and puffy white dresses. But then, all of a sudden, he hit her with “the bomb of Gilead”….out of the blue, he took her out to coffee (because that’s what really great men do when they are about to give you the “talk”), and told her that she just wasn’t marriage material for him. Obviously, she is devastated. Can’t eat, can’t sleep, needs a whole new friend group…the whole sha-bang.

Right before Christmas, a dear friend of mine had the same kind of “hit-by-the-break-up-bus” experience by her then fiancé, several weeks before their wedding. His reasonings were complicated, but when distilled, the same kind of message: “I’m not ready to be married to you.”

Us women joke that there must be something in the water, because about 2 months later, I had the same conversation with a boyfriend that I was planning on getting married to. I was planning on moving out of the country to be with him, and already had the boxes packed when I got the call. The only reasoning that he could give me was “I’m so sorry, I just can’t do this.”

Ok, so for me, this puts me at the end of a really bad dating streak. For the friends that know me, they have seen me date slews of men that I thought were just the greatest thing in the world. But in reality, they really treated me quite crappy….and things would get so horrible that the relationships with crumble.   …Or they would cheat on me….or they would call me when I was driving down the 405 Freeway and say “I’m so sorry I just can’t do this.”

So at this point, we have to ask “Jenni, why is it that you are always attracted to the asshole?” This is a really great question. I would love to find the answer to that. (Actually, when Im honest with myself, the answer to that question freaks the shit out of me). But, bottom line, I realize that some couch time with a shrink might do me some good.

In fact, I have several girlfriends that also got tired of getting their hearts ripped out and went to counseling to figure out their patterns. Several thousand tears later, the light bulbs go on. They realize that their dads were emotionally distant, they felt abandoned by people that they loved, their mothers were manipulative, or whatever twisted paths they had led them to choose assholes of men.

Now, while on the phone with my mother (because all good conversations about marriage take place while driving home on the phone with your mother), we are talking about me, and counseling, and the ways that I saw my dad be sometimes a little horrible to my mother, and the kinds of things in men that I can be blind to. It all seems overwhelming. Like here I am at 24, drowning in an emotional sea of dysfunctions, hurt, brokenness, abuses, fears, the unknown….and it dawns on me….

Since when has marriage been rocket science?

“Mom, was it always like this? I mean, was it like this when you were young? You got married at 22 or something…how did you figure all of this out before you married dad? And was it like this in the 70s or the 50s or the 40s? Did you sit down and delve into the depths of your path with a professional counselor just to feel like you could really say ‘yes’ to a man when he gets on one knee and gives you a ring box?”

“Nope”, my mom says. “It was different then. We just got married, and as you stumbled into the problems within your marriage, people just dealt with it differently. Men were workaholics, alcoholics, emotionally dead, or whatever it was that helped them deal with what came out of marriage.”

So this bring me to a long emotional conversation that I had over dinner at my favorite micro-brewery/restaurant (Karl Strauss in Costa Mesa, I highly recommend you visit) with a dear gal that I used to work with. She has been married for 38 years, and was nice enough to speak candidly with me about her marriage to her husband, his alcoholic tendencies, and the way thoses shaped her life and her thoughts in the wake of his lifestyle choices.  She is beautiful, and incredibly strong, although I don’t know if she knows that fully yet (If you are reading this, know that I think you are incredibly beautiful and strong).

What I admire about her is that she never left him. She said “That’s just what you do. That is what sacrificial love is. Even if it kills you, you stay in it. I have a family, and I had to do what was the best for my family. I still think of my adult children and want to make sure that they are all happy.”

Now, it was the same thing with my Grandma. There were ALL KINDS of dysfunction that she dealt with. When asking her about it, she just says the same message “Jenni I had a family. I did what I had to do.” I know that my grandfather was injured which led him to be depressed, and alcoholic, etc. And the interesting thing is as a child I remember him being very quite and reserved. According to my grandma though, before the accident, he was always jovial and fun loving. She told me that she used to tell her children “Don’t worry about your Daddy, this isn’t really him. He really is a happy man, he is just not himself right now.”

Neither of these women would have ever dreamed of leaving their husbands. Despite the fact that they turned into very different men than the men that met them at their wedding alters, forever meant forever.

….So what changed?…

Finishing up my conversation with my mom, I joked that maybe we would all just be better off if we resorted to arranged marriages and wrote off the false idea that marriage is one giant romantic comedy. Maybe I am too much of a realist in that way, or maybe I have just gotten my heart broken too many times. But I hate romantic comedies. They poison our brains with the idea that there are men out there that know all of the right words at the right time, and they can swoop in and save us from our own adversity. They don’t show the part where you wake up 38 years later and realize that you might be angry with your husband for the ways you had to adjust to his choices. I think they give us overly sappy, unrealistic expectations to what love is like.

So, now that we are watching incredibly fake movies, going to counseling, and waiting to get married later in life, it changes the game. Isn’t it a lot of pressure to make sure that you have all of your issues sorted before you say yes to the beautiful man on one knee with a ring box? Because for me, at this point at least, I don’t know if I’m going to get there. I might just tell him “Go on ahead with out me…I’m just a mess!” Wouldn’t it be better if we just knew that each other were constantly going to be messes? We could get married to men that wooed us, and we could wake up later in life staying in the marriage because that is just what you do.

For me at least, the pressure seems too great. I love the idea of arranged marriages. In fact, I have been begging my parents to get me an arranged marriage since I had my first break up (they wont for the record). With arranged marriages you could chock out all of the fluffy expectations of a passionate, perfect marriage with a healthy man. You just own the fact that you don’t know each other very well, and you are going to do what it takes to make it work. I think that maybe a littler closer to what marriage turns out to be in reality any way.

I question whether or not we’ve gotten it better now. Maybe our marriages have less dysfunction in them, but it takes so much work to even get to the alter! I appreciate that in 50s, 60s and 70s, marriage was more like of an arrangement: Real. Not fluffy. Ugly sometimes. But everyone knew how it was going to be. No one was diluted with the “Rom-Com” mentality. Maybe if I beg my parents enough, they let me forgo the science experiment, and arrange a marriage for me after all.

As you may or may not know, I work for Corporate America. In fact, I have worked for several International Brand Companies in my employment experience. Now, the interesting thing is that I find myself in a particular situation when looking at the way that the world works from a consumer prospective. When I come across an organization that has especially capitalized their profit margin in a particular area of business, despite the fact that they may be exploiting shoppers, I have come to realize the talent within the effort.

Let me give you an example: Last weekend I went to a baseball game. It was one of the more exciting high profile games that I have attended in my life. In the more exciting games, the vendors really pull out all the stops. Every beer kiosk is stocked and ready for the hordes of thirsty excited fans. They are cram packed with peanuts, popcorn, deep dish nachos, foot long hot dogs, slushies – and not to forget the light-up iced beer mug. We will all shuffled to our seats, juggling our 12 glorious inches of hot dogs as to not spill out of our “Collector’s Beer Mugs.” Along the way we can’t help but pass by about a million “Team Stores” where they have branded every single article of clothing and worthless nick-nack imaginable with the team’s logo.

Now, as I sit in my seat and chow my amazing ball park food, one can’t help but notice the electricity in the air, the fact that the whole crowd is in matching colors to their teams…and my wheels start turning. As I am taking in all of the “baseball-isms.” I realize that I don’t care that I just spent $45 dollars on hot dogs, peanuts and beer. And for that matter, I don’t think that anyone else does either. We all are just so excited to be there, and take part in the experience, we will gladly give away our money.

Now, as I really begin to delve into this thought, I think about the 20, 30,  or 40 players on each team that has contracts signed. At 10 million dollars a pop, or several hundred thousand per game, you can imagine that the bills really begin to add up. Factor in the cost of paying all of the employees to be there, the cost of electricity, water, and other utilities to keep the stadium open,…clearly we are talking about nearly a billion dollar industry. 

Now my first thought goes to the VPs that overseethose operations. I’m totally impressed. Jealous even. The fact that they can generate that kind of capital, or even that they can even forecast the enormous amount of revenue that passes through their books each week is a talent that is far beyond most of our capabilities.  If each of us in life is given talents or gifts that we are extraordinary at, I think it is fair to say that I fully recognize and appreciate these VP’s ability to make money in the baseball industry.

Now here is the funny thing: as a consumer, I am completely different.  One of the things that drives me absolutely bonkers is the “Self Check Out” lane at the grocery store. Now I know that a number of my friends like them, and some might go so far as to say that they even LOVE them. Maybe its the novelty of checking your own items – like a child playing grocery store. They love scanning their items, seeing all the lights, touching the screen, and bagging their own groceries. Or for some people, maybe its a privacy thing; they dont want anyone to know that they menstruate and need tampons, have sex and need condoms, accidental wet their pants and want Adult diapers, or whatever other embarrassing items that cause you to not want to make eye contact with your checker.

For me, the self check out drives me crazy. And the reason is simple: when a business sits down to figure in the retail price of an item on the shelf, there are about a million factors that go into choosing the price. Where on the shelf the item is placed, the color of the packaging, the month of the year that it is sold it, the neighborhood in which the store is located in –  these are all deciphering factors in a price of an item. Even more so, the cost of keeping the store lit, air conditioned, refrigerated,  cleaned, stocked, employed, etc. are all also factors that pay into the price of the item that I purchase. Now it might sound crazy to actually think about these things, but I am certain that entire companies spend $millions$ of dollars a year researching, tracking, testing and sorting facts like this to determine the price of their items.

The point I am getting to is this: when you buy an item, a very small part of that list price is the dollar amount that it will take that particular grocery store to pay the checker to scan your items. Now, when I stand at the “Self Check Out” line, and scan my own items, do I get a discount? After all, I am doing the work of the employees…I am saving that corporation money by doing the work FOR the checker. Ok, I do realize that we are talking about pennies, or even fractions of pennies. But any  person that works in business long enough knows that if you have several thousand “fractions of pennies,” adding up several thousands of times a day, it doesn’t take very long to have dollars, and even thousands of dollars.

And all of this doesn’t even mention the fact that now we have one “Self Checker Supervisor” that can overlook 8 check stands at  time, thus eliminating jobs for other checkers. We are single handedly volunteering to put our checkers out of work…for free!

I do get it that this is all ridiculous and extreme. I still do use the Self Check out once in a while (particularly when I am on the phone and don’t want to be rude to the checker and talk while they are checking me out – I’ll stay on the phone and check my own groceries).

I suppose my point is this: the individuals that work for corporate America are incredibly talented. They get me to check my own groceries or pay $10 for a 33 cent hot dog without even batting an eyelid. And I don’t say that with spite as much as I do awe. I can’t really fault the industry, it’s the hand that feeds me. Corporate America literally pays my pays my paychecks. Ideally, I want to grow up to be just like them -making billions of dollars for my company based on and initiative that I birthed into the marketplace.

But at the same time…it really pisses me off that I don’t get my 2 cent discount when I check my own milk, tampons and adult diapers.