Whose Dating Junk Are You?

As a child growing up in Texas, some of my fondest memories where spent at my grandmother’s house. There, I could get away with anything, and I usually did. Bedtimes: Nonexistent. Meals: Junk food. Love: Never-ending. In the spring, my grandmother would always know if it was chilly out or if could just go out and play with no jacket. To me, it was grandmother magic, to her, it was watching the weather. She’d point to a thermometer hanging on the wall in the shape of a tiny house that had a pendulum with a boy and girl on one side and an old grandmother on the opposite side. If the temperature was chilly, the grandmother figurine would pop out of the house–which meant I had to put on a sweater, but if it was nice and warm, the kids would poke through and it was shorts all day long for me!

Yesterday was a short day for me. I basked in the New York City sun and celebrated Mr. Sun and all his UV glory. But because I’m grown up and had grown up things to do, I had to eventually put pants on to attend a blogger event. Last night’s event was geared towards the dating blogger so I met new people in the industry but also saw some very familiar faces. Santiago–my hottie–forcedly attended. KB in NYC just sent me a tweet telling me that my hottie gets 10 out of 10 marks! (It’s funny because several other people crowded around him and just stared, never saying a word to him. He was being watched, like Kiki, the dancing Walrus and they wanted a performance.)

And as I made the rounds, mingling with other New York City dating bloggers, many of them single, several of them sexy and all of them intelligent; we exchanged dating success stories, horror stories, and had a great time. I even got to meet a reader of mine who went to Brazil and brought me back a beautiful present. Thank you, Sweetie! But as I left the back courtyard area to hit the indoor bar, I spotted a large group of women sitting in a clump as if they were a pack of wolves helping an injured one; yes, one of the wolves had just been dumped. How did I know? Cause I’m Mexican and our ability to eavesdrop is categorized as a super power, look it up–it’s even printed on our birth certificates.

There they were–telling her how great she was and what an excellent catch she was. One even offered her cousin Ernie as a consolation prize, but she didn’t bite. (I don’t think I would’ve either, not by looking at her, Oy!) But the poor girl was heartbroken and pretty, if you bypassed the snot running down her nose and the red bloodshot eyes. She also had nice shoes. But I guess I was looking at her though the eyes of a gay man. I doubt a straight man would make a dating judgement based on Manolo vs. Jimmy Choos. One thing this girl had going for her was love as her friends came to her rescue and ripped that heart-breaking man apart like Kirstie Alley does a slab of ribs. And as I waited for my margarita on the rocks to finally arrive, I thought about why we get all bent out of shape when one person on this huge Earth decides to dump us? There are so many more Earthlings out there to choose and pick from. I don’t see the animal kingdom slipping into huge depression episodes involving pills, pizza and punch (or maybe that’s just me?) because Fifi and Mr. Nibbles are no longer together. They just go off, sniff another butt and keep it moving. And that’s when it hit me, in a world obsessed with being in a relationship, and everyone tossing everyone out like they were trash, I couldn’t help but wonder, “Who’s junk are you?”

When my grandmother died several years ago; I asked for one thing only; the little temperature-telling house. And with every move, it’s the first thing I pack/unpack and as people come and go in and out of my life, they stare at the little house and wonder (with it being so old) why I have “junk” in my home. To people, it’s junk, to me, it means so much more and the memory bank associated with it is priceless. How amazing would it be if we humans could cross that idea over into the dating scene? We’d realize that even if someone did toss us out, like yesterday’s Wall Street ticker tape, we will eventually come across someone in our lifetime who will metaphorically hang us up on their heart-walls and proudly display us for everyone to see–no matter if we were a bit tattered and torn, just like my little temperature-telling house. We are so valuable and have a right to happiness, believe me. So to the recently single girl at last night’s bar, chin up sister, you have some healing to do, but you also have some new booty to sniff. Cheers.

Have you ever been tossed out? Did you ever throw someone away? Leave a comment.