Tatiana Talks

Valentine’s Day Wrap-Up

For more than 20 years I have hated Valentine’s Day. I say more than 20 even though I am more than 30 because I am pretty sure I loved Valentine’s Day as a kid. Then again, as a kid you don’t worry that the candy is going to make you fat and you were pretty much guaranteed a valentine from everyone in your class.

Four years ago, I had a boyfriend, and still managed to mess up Valentine’s Day. Three years ago, I was in the Poconos, with Bridie and her boyfriend, texting the Republican. Two years ago I promised not to hate the day, but still ended up drunk and sad, and then last year, well, last year was a blur, so I’m guessing more alcohol was involved.

This year was different. As the day grew closer I noticed my animosity didn’t grow; my mood didn't sour. I didn’t scoff at any of the thousands (yes thousands) of emails about Valentine’s Day specials, I didn’t fret about being out in NYC the Saturday night before, heck, I even wore red on the big day. I didn’t want to jinx my attitude, but I did begin to wonder if accepting that I was going to be single for life also released Valentine’s Day’s hold over me.

Still, part of me was convinced the lovefest couldn’t last. Part of me was waiting for the tears and self-hatred that always comes on February 14.

Now, earlier this year (or maybe it was last year) I made Rifka (a friend I met while trying to find a new best single girlfriend) sign-up with me for a Valentine’s Day Single’s Run. If anything was going to shake my bliss, surely being in a room of sweaty singles on the most romantic day of the year would do it.

Except, it didn’t. I enjoyed the run. Laughed with some strangers. Rifka and I got hit on by a couple of guys who bought us a round of drinks, it was actually a lot of fun.

And as I stood there, overhearing other conversations, women complaining about being alone and sad and just wanting somebody – anybody – I felt so relieved. I wasn’t angry or sad that I didn’t have a boyfriend. I wasn’t questioning my worth because this guy was hitting on me and not someone I perceived as better that was hitting on someone else across the bar. I didn’t feel rejected, later, when that guy started hitting on someone else, and I didn’t feel like a loser when Rifka and I cut out to grab burritos on our way home.

Instead, I felt incredibly lucky.

It was a Valentine’s Day miracle.

Boy, Oh Boy

Before I start this post, let me get a couple of definitions out of the way so we are all on the same page.
man: noun, the male of the Homosapiens species that has his shit together. Example: Your friend that is funny, and smart, and has a job with a future and a life he enjoys, and that you always describe to all your girlfriends as “a great
guy.”

over-aged boy: noun, the male of the Homosapiens species that hasn’t grown up. Example: the hot guy that you met at a bar, with an awesome job and a nice car, that isn’t going to tell you about his girlfriend because he subscribes to the philosophy, “what she doesn’t know can’t hurt him.” See also Generation of Guys.

Now that that is all cleared up, I will continue.

When I was still hunting, I would occasionally find myself on the trail (or in the arms) of an over-aged boy. My reasoning was simple. Looking for a mate is exhausting work. Sometimes a woman needs a break; needs to have a little fun. And when she does, over-aged boys are where it’s at – so long as you know what you are in for.

Because, while the differences between men and over-aged boys aren’t always as clear as my above examples, once you know you are with an over-aged boy, you have a choice to make. You can either a) move on, because that is not what you are looking for, or b) hang out, have your fun, and when you are through, move on.

Of course, there is a third option – stick around and hope he grows up. I cannot stress enough how much I don’t recommend this.

However, a couple of weeks ago I posted the notice for single ladies about picking up guys and the next day brought another IM session with the Source.

He was incredulous that I was telling my readers to pick up boys. He wants us out there looking for men.

I argued that, while the goal is a man, sometimes a woman just wants to let her hair down and make-out with someone she shouldn't. And when that time comes, she should take a book to a bar and find herself a boy. If she happens upon a man, super. If not, she has herself a little fun and no one gets hurt.

The source countered that the huntress is hurting herself by being distracted by the boy. His words:
As a huntress your goal is to bag a long term mate, a boy is like a rabbit running across your path, distracting you from the main game.
He isn’t wrong. The main reason for my ending the text relationship with the Republican was that I found it was just enough of a relationship to keep me content. It distracted me from my actual hunt.

But if the Republican was only a one night thing, would it really have been so detrimental?

Only you can answer this for yourself. I will say, I know from experience it is a slippery slope. Boys are a lot of fun and they out-number men by a lot. But if you find yourself getting too comfortable, blowing off dates with potential men to spend time with your boy-friend, day-dreaming of long-term plans, or (gasp) thinking that maybe he will change, get out as soon as you can.

For my part, now that I am resigned to being single for life, I am looking forward to having fun with over-aged boys again.

After Shocks After The Rose


Do any of you watch The Bachelor? More importantly, did any of you receive an out-of-the-blue text or phone call from an ex saying he was sorry or that he made a mistake Monday night? Because I think the two may be related.

Let me say, before I get too far into this post, that I don’t watch The Bachelor. Never have, and god-willing, never will. However, from the tweets and Facebook and coverlines on magazines, I’m guessing that Jake tossed good girl (and fan favorite) Ally and then proposed to crazy in the head, so she must be crazy in the bed Alana. (Please tell me if I’m wrong here because my theory here depends on these facts).

Those same coverlines told me that Ally (who just from pictures looks adorable and sweet and very nice) has since moved on and Jake now regrets proposing to Alana (who, quite frankly, looks a bit trashy).

I can understand Jake’s predicament. It is one I have seen time and time again. Guys passing on the girl next door for the wild child only to realize later that while the wild child may be fun, she is also crazy. And while crazy can sometimes be fun, it can also be kinda scary. Like when she cuts out all the women from your pictures (including your mom and your sisters) or starts beating your dog because she thinks you love Tiger more than you love her.

Which brings me to the second question I asked. See, I think it is always easier to to see someone else making your mistakes. There is probably even a psychological word for this phenomenon (Bridie?). And I’m betting as our exes watched The Bachelor (with their crazy girlfriends) they shook their heads when Jake made “the biggest mistake of his life,” turned to their girlfriends who had been rooting for Alana and had their “a-ha” moment that led to the phone call or text.

At least that is what I think precipitated the Republican sending me a text yesterday.

See, I know the Republican watches The Bachelor (a fact I didn’t know until after we stopped seeing each other). I also know he had a girlfriend that he started seeing after he stopped seeing me. Now, I think he fancies himself Bachelor material, so I speculate that he was probably seeing both of us at the same time. And after going out with us, he extended his rose to the crazy, though not exactly attractive one.

Before you start in on me about how can I be so conceited - I'm not. My looks are the one thing I am insecure about (well, that and my boobs). Other than looks, I think I am a pretty awesome package. I’m smart, funny, well read, fit, good with kids, an excellent dresser and I love watching football. I’m also not a nag and I have a lot of friends so I’m not the sort that needs a man to keep me entertained.

Still, even with my insecurity about my looks I can say when I think a girl is not as cute as me. This girl wasn’t. As for how I know she’s crazy? Well, that is based solely on the outfits I have seen her wearing in pictures on Facebook.

So, what’s a girl to do? I guess if I were a contestant on The Bachelor and I knew after only spending a couple of days with a guy that I (sob) love him (sob), I would give him another chance. And one day we would appear on the cover of People as a happy couple, planning our wedding and laughing about how he picked Alana first. But then again, there’s a reason why I've never been a contestant on The Bachelor.

Okay, counting my small chest there’s two reasons.

A Rule for Picking-Up Bartenders - Don't

So you know that I was out on Valentine’s Eve. What I didn’t tell you is that Bridie and Salty did make an attempt to pimp me.

I don’t think I'm being vain when I say that the knowledge that I haven’t kissed anyone since by 30th birthday (unless you count the Republican, which I don’t) is weighing heavy on my friends’ minds. Okay, maybe not heavy. I don’t think it is keeping them up at night. However, whenever we have been out recently, a lot of attention is paid to the other guys in the bar on my behalf.

And Valentine’s Eve was no exception. We were at the bar for less than one drink when Salty came over to me and announced that she and Bridie like the bartender for me.

I looked up at the gentleman behind the bar; tall, thick, bearded and good looking. If he had been on this side of the bar I would have been impressed. However, he wasn’t and so I turned to Salty and said, “He’s the bartender.”

See, ladies it is never a good idea to set your sights on the bartender. Please note, I said THE bartender not A bartender. The article here is very important. Why you ask is it never a good idea to set your sights on the bartender? Because, kittens, it is the bartender’s job to be nice and flirt with you. It doesn’t mean he is actually interested in you.

It is sort of the female equivalent of falling for a stripper.

Guys go into strip clubs, sit down, maybe take their coats off. Then they see a hot chick. And she is looking back at him. Oh my god, is she smiling at him? Crap, she’s coming this way. And she’s taking her top off. I am the luckiest man alive. So she just took a twenty from my hand, but still I think she likes me. I mean really likes me.

It’s pretty much the same thing for bartenders. Yes, there is a very good chance that the bartender will be the best looking guy in the room and he should be the most sober. But you will be wasting your time flirting with him when you could be meeting other eligible, albeit maybe not nearly as charming, men.

Believe me. Some of my longest standing crushes are on bartenders. I know what I’m talking about here. In fact the next time someone asks me why I'm still single, I may say, I’m a sucker for bartenders.

Now, this doesn’t mean that the next time you are out and you happen to meet a good looking, charming, tall man on this side of the bar that happens to be a bartender you should walk away. Quite the opposite. Revel and delight in the rare occasion to flirt with him away from his work. But be warned. If you take things to the next level with a cute bartender, your bartender/patron relationship will be changed forever. And most times not for the good.

Oh, and before you comment that all this advice is nice and all, but didn’t I come away that very night having only met the bartender. Yes, but exceptions are to be made. A) it wasn’t the same bartender Salty pointed out, he was married. B) It was Valentine’s Eve and thus there were no eligible bachelors in the bar for me to ogle.

Who Loves You, Baby

Not since the seventh grade have I had a date on Valentine’s Day -- and that date is now out of the closet so you know he set the bar pretty high (even for a seventh grader). I suppose a couple of years ago, DB and I were together on VD, but technically not really. I mean we had hooked up by that point (just kissing, mom!), but we hadn’t been out on a date.

And our super romantic Valentine’s Day was spent at our friends’ house watching LOST. We were suppose to have dinner together too, but I opted for pizza at Bridie’s instead.

So it is safe to say the majority of my Valentine’s Days have been big disappointments, spent drinking copious amounts of alcohol, eating greasy disgusting (but oh so delicious) food and cursing this stupid Hallmark holiday.

But this year I’m taking a different approach. This year I am celebrating the greatest love of all; the one that is happening inside of me (thank you, Whitney).

I’m serious. I’m so sick and tired of feeling sorry for myself this one weekend a year. So this year, I won’t. I will celebrate with myself, just how awesome I am and how happy I am to have me.

Now, originally, I had thought about taking this holiday by the horns. I thought about going on the Love Letters tour and then going to see Valentine’s Day, which despite my better judgment actually looks cute. However, I don’t want to set myself up for failure. I don’t want to put myself in a situation where I might actually start comparing the love of my life with others and wondering why I’m all alone and completely sabotage the best relationship I have ever had.

Instead, I have planned the perfect evening for myself -- after all, who knows me better? I will pick up a vegan cupcake (or two, after all we are celebrating here), make myself a delicious dinner, open a nice bottle of red wine, put on super cute, Valentine’s themed pajamas and watch silly action movies featuring Sylvester Stallone, Bruce Willis or the Governator; and I won’t judge myself when I laugh out loud at the ridiculous dialogue.

Things I won’t be doing this weekend include, sending text messages to the Republican (or any of my ex’s for that matter), listening to sappy love songs, wondering what is wrong with me that I managed to chase so many great guys away (instead I will focus on all that was wrong with them) and most definitely I will not cry.

That is unless of course I decide to watch Terminator 2. I mean, come on, who doesn’t tear-up at the end of that movie?