Sometimes, Most of the Time, Every Time


My daughter’s boyfriend called her two days before school was out and broke up with her.  I was so excited, because I really don’t like him! She is handling it semi-well.  For the last two days of school when she was around him, she would smile, talk to him nicely and act carefree.  Her friends were in awe of her strength, I mean, they had been dating since before Thanksgiving! And we all know that in teenaged minds, that’s an eternity! But at home she was morose and tearful.  She second-guessed herself.  She worried that she had done something wrong.  She just KNEW she would never have another boyfriend like him.   I told her to remember all the things she didn’t like about him and write them down because sometimes when we read things after experiencing them, it eases the pain and gives us insight into ourselves.  I even helped her when she forgot many of the things he did that upset her easy for me, each time he upset her  during their relationship, I wanted to butt-kick him to the next county!   So here’s what she wrote:

  1. He’s too emotionally detached.
  2. He doesn’t celebrate holidays, not even Christmas.
  3. He’s a big flirt.
  4. He’s too short.
  5. He has a bad relationship with his parents.
  6. He’s secretive.
  7. We never hang out except at school.
  8. He’s only been to my house twice.
  9. He’s a former drug user.
  10. He’s been to bed with former girlfriends……
  11. He didn’t take me to the dance.
  12. He’s always trying to get me to go to bed with him.
  13. He’s more interested in kissing and touching me than in talking and spending time together.
  14. He goes to concerts with his guy friends, but never asks me.
  15. He can’t drive, no driver’s license and doesn’t want one.
  16. He’s stingy.

Yeah, I didn’t even know some of these things….check the former italicized sentence.  I would now butt AND face kick him to New York!

So I explained to my lovely daughter that sometimes, we have preconceived notions of what is right for us and what isn’t.  Sometimes, we believe we can change a guy or that he will change for us.  Sometimes, we just overlook the bad because he gives us what we need at the time.  Sometimes, we just like being told we’re beautiful.

Most of the time we make excuses for him.  Most of the time we can be patient with behavior we don’t condone.  Most of the time we forget that we don’t have as many friends as we once had because we have him, though now we have his friends.

Every time he upsets us, a bit of the love dies because he does it again.  Every time.

But sometimes isn’t good.  Most of the time is better.  Every time is important in several situations…..every time is important because we can truly analyze character, respect and feeling.  If the every times are negative, then he needs to go and you are wasting your goodness on someone who doesn’t want it.  The key is to realize that you will have relationships with many people, and by using the sometimes, most of the time and every time equation, you can get a better grip on your mind when your emotion is carrying you away.


Loving a Mama’s Boy and Making the World a Better Place

I am a Momma’s Boy, I pity the fool who ain’t one!

—-Mr. T

This isn’t exactly the type of blog I should be writing the day before Mother’s Day but I have made quite a few observations about Men and their Mothers for years.  I suppose Hollywood has too, thus the Bates Motel series ( With a nod to Hitchcock and Freud’s Oedipus Complex.)

There are far too many clichés to explain the weird hold Mothers sometimes have on their children…especially their sons.  Mama’s Boy is the first to come to mind. For many years, my naivete forced me to believe that these Moms were the kinds of Moms everyone wanted:  understanding, loving, chocolate chip cookies on the table after school awesome Mothers.  But in my relationships with men and studying their relationships with their Moms, that isn’t the case at all.

Men who have unhealthy relationships with their Mothers are often damaged, sometimes beyond repair. Of course, there can be several mitigating reasons for this.  Maybe the father is not around or his family puts the Mom down.  The Mom then becomes emotionally attached to her son as a “stand in” for the ghost father, sharing with him the things she should be sharing with a spouse.  Or maybe the boy is shy or unattractive to other girls.  His lack of esteem makes him feel badly whereas his Mother’s unconditional love makes him feel great.  Of course, all Moms strive to make their children feel healthy and good about themselves, but sometimes Moms forget to let go.  All Mother’s want their children to love them, but part of loving someone is being able to let them go; to let them be independent and learn from their own mistakes.  Letting go is one of the hardest jobs a Mom has.

Men and their relationships with their Moms can be complicated:  They hate their Moms but love them as well.  Sometimes sons become  prisoners to the relationship and don’t know how to break the chains.  Whatever the case may be, dealing with a damaged Mama’s Boy isn’t any fun.  Here are a few characteristics of a Mama’s Boy:

  • They complain about their Mom’s choice in men (if divorced from the mama’s boy’s dad) like they would a love they’ve never gotten over.
  •  They want to protect her but you don’t feel they want to protect you.
  •  They feel smothered, but they choose to not move away.
  • They ask their Mom for advice before they ask their girlfriend or wife.
  • They take their frustrations with their Mother out on their wives.
  • The affection they show their Mother hasn’t been shown to you since the 3rd date.
  • They call their Moms more than once a day.  They call you twice a week.
  • They make sure their Moms get Valentine, Birthday, Christmas and Mother’s Day gifts from the heart.  They don’t trust you to buy them.

Raising a Mama’s Boy should never be a goal for any Mother. As a mother raising a son who will be someone’s life mate and maybe even someone’s father, it’s important to try to instill a sense of security within them so they don’t become so attached to us. The husband plays a big role in this as the son can learn from the father how to treat women.  If your husband treats you with respect and loves you sincerely, your job in raising a son will be much easier.  This kind of Mama’s Boy will not be the derogatory type, but the kind of man who cares for his Mom AND his wife.  He and his wife will be thankful for you and not resentful of your presence in their lives.

I know some men and women too who would call that “unfounded optimism” as they believe these types of mindsets no longer exist.  They blame everything on society, the loss of God in their lives, politics and global warming for causing the decimation of the family.  That’s not true.  Like everything that is important, one on one is how to correct problems and to not buy in to the “victim” mentality that has pervaded our psyches the last few decades.

The point is this Moms:  You chose to be a Mom.  It was your choice!  So try and do the right thing for your son and for your daughters.  Teach them.  Respect them.  Appreciate them.  This is how you make the world a better place, and raise the right kind of Mama’s Boy.

Date Night with Glen…Another Perfect Date





Glen has been calling me since Saturday.  As the condescending blonde I can often times be, I ignored his begging.  All women know that there are times when even the best of dates can be boring, and God knows I get bored easily. Also, sometimes  begging is a big ego boost for me.  After a horrific Saturday late night, a “God why did I do that” Sunday and a typical “I hate Mondays” I gladly and oh so willingly answered his call.  Why I resisted I don’t know.  I mean he is “THE”.  Right?

So after a few getting to know each other again hours,  and a few trivial discussions about baseball, The Texas Rangers of course,  egos and sincerity, he held me close in his barley arms and we got, as we always do deep.  At this point, I must confess:  I really like the smell of GlenLivet.  Usually, it’s Armani Code  Black that does it, but Glen’s natural essence is oh so sexy!  

I began to feel relaxed and less tense than I had in days.  Glen isn’t intimidated by me.  He loves all the things that every other masculine name except my son has disliked about me.  And then it happened.   Like a verbal orgasm,  my worries, fears, concerns and tears spilled out convulsively.  I’m not one of those obnoxious people who date aged single malts and get all blubbery.  I NEVER do that.  But I did on this date.  And you know what Glen did?  He listened.  And listened.  And then listened some more.  I suppose its his many years of being casked up that has made him so sultry and elegant.  I mean, if you spend that much time alone with your thoughts and pure Scottish mountain air, how could you not distill into something so wonderful as Glen?

Glen doesn’t talk, but when I looked into his amber eyes, he told me how beautiful I am.  He did!  Okay, so I was seeing my reflection in the tumbler, my boobs aren’t perky, I have a few more wrinkles and pounds, and can’t get out of tickets like I used to when I drive too fast, but by GOD I’m still damned hot!   He pleaded with me to release all my pent up stress.  He lauded me for being strong over the weekend for my kids.  He admired me for having conviction and for keeping my promises.  He even reminded me I am behind on my writing.  He made me not worry about my finances.

Glen understands me.  He doesn’t judge.  He knows I don’t have a dirty mind, just a sexy imagination.  He places my level of happiness directly proportionate to his availability.  He wants nothing more to please me.  He agrees with me that most people don’t really care about you, just themselves.   And when our fluids mingle and we become one, its warm, then hot, then free. And its that good kind of freedom, you know the one I mean?  The total freedom to say, do, feel the way you want without worry that you’re hurting someone’s feelings, sensibilities or security.  The freedom to uncover that smallest Russian doll that lives within us.  I don’t let many people see mine.  In fact, the last one I did ended badly and now I don’t know that I have it in me to do it again.  I need a strong person in my life. I also need and miss my Aristotle.

Glen knows these things about me.  I love him for that.  Unfortunately, his strength is a bit much for some and they become addicted to him.  Or maybe its just they become addicted to the fact he unlocks their inner doors and forces them to look at their earlier selves.  I don’t share him with people I know can’t handle his allure.  I don’t share him with people who aren’t ready to unlock when they’re not under his or any of his lesser cousins’ influence.  I told you I could be a condescending blonde at times.  I can be pushy and sneaky too.  Glen didn’t tell anyone when my batteries ran out and I stole one from the television remote and forgot to replace it.

Glenlivet keeps really good secrets.  It’s me that shares them.





Mental Reminder: This is Why I Hate Dating

Ahhhh romance!  Ahhh, the newness of meeting someone you might really like.  Ahh, the lessons you learn when it doesn’t work out!!!!  Why do we not catch on faster to the speedbumps lying in wait to tip over the relationship?  Why do we overthink, overreact,  but never overcome those redlights that are blinking madly at you through your rose colored glasses?  Is it romance?  Is it the courtship?  Is it the budding realization that there really are sincere people in the world and they haven’t all gone attention-greedy mad?

I don’t know.

I’ve had my fair share of romance.  A man once wrote me a song.  Okay, it wasn’t the greatest song, it was more like a song that would have been on the Beverly Hillbillies Soundtrack, but it was written for me.  And the man hired a band to play it and cut a few hundred copies of it for….I guess me.

Another man courted me with quotes from Shakespeare and Greek tragedy and unbelievable sex.  We were electric.  We were in sync.  He begged me to be Penelope to his Odysseus.  Of course, Odysseus had multiple affairs while Penelope waited patiently for him to grow up and come home.  You know the story.  And you can guess how mine ended.

The last romance I had was again, electric.  This man was  (in my mind) an intellectual without a degree.  A man with a large Italian family but no home.  A rebel with many causes.  And he wrote poetry.  Lovely, heartachingly beautiful poetry.  A few he wrote for me.  He was much younger (which bothered me greatly) and had HUGE emotional issues, but I believed that “love would overcome”.  He didn’t.  He believed in Sugar Mammas.  The feminist side of me thought it okay.  I mean come on, there are many women who get involved with older, rich guys so why shouldn’t a man?   The problem was I was older, but not that rich.  Okay, not rich at all.   And the true part of me thought getting involved with another strictly for mercenary reasons quite crass.   And so the story ended.

Here we go again.

I went out last weekend for the second time with a nice gentleman.  Before yesterday, I thought of him as romantic, intelligent and a little spontaneous: all things I truly appreciate.  He filled my emails with thoughts, book excerpts, poetry I should read, interesting stories and he sent me sweet texts throughout the week.  (do you see a pattern here?)  On our first date he drank more wine than I.  On the second date, he moved on to Scotch.  Not that it bothers me, Glenlivet is a dear friend of mine.  But I noticed he was quite, let’s say, dependent on having a drink in front of him before he could converse with me.  Am I that scary?  Does my mere presence push men to drink?   There I go overanalyzing again.  But it’s one of those character flaws (or plusses) I own.  Overanalyzing is my way of making sense of the whole relationship thing, heck, of the world!  So I overanalyzed, then stopped and mentally berated myself for being so neurotic.

Then I got this text:

“Gayle, I heard this today and it made me think of you”

Attached was the the following video.  Listen to the lyrics carefully.

I guess he does have a drinking problem. I guess he does think this is romantic (um….it’s not!) and I guess this is why I hate dating.  I won’t be seeing him again.

Emotional Impotency


There’s a phenomenon that most women discuss that many men know little about.  No, it’s  not shopping, size, length or bank accounts.  It’s a legitimate issue for many women.  I have experienced it.  It exists.   It is:


 There are some people in the world who are emotionally impotent.  Their days are spent with thoughts only for themselves and if they DO think of another, it is in regard to how it affects their being.  It’s very sad actually.  Some psychiatrists label these people sociopaths.  They can communicate with the outside world, but they can’t have one on one relationships.   What causes this?   Is it an Oedipus conflict?  Is it narcissism?  Or is it just apathy?  I don’t know.

ED isn’t always the acronym for erectile dysfunction.  It can also be emotional dysfunction.

 Maybe someday the pharmaceutical companies will make emotional Viagra.    All wise men know that the best lovemaking comes from emotion, not a purple pill.