<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872</id><updated>2011-11-29T19:02:45.287-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Pretty Girls Don't Get Dumped</title><subtitle type='html'>A pretty girl's memoirs on relationships and dating and all the in-between...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>35</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-7555314887472186816</id><published>2011-06-20T12:08:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-06-20T12:08:15.673-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Making Things Happen vs Waiting For It</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m64T24C_59Y/Tf-agW-Ea-I/AAAAAAAAAIw/-EK4g6cS5wE/s1600/making+it+work.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" i$="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m64T24C_59Y/Tf-agW-Ea-I/AAAAAAAAAIw/-EK4g6cS5wE/s320/making+it+work.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Hiiiiiii! I know, I know, I've been M.I.A. The thing with PGDGD is, it was&amp;nbsp;kinda like&amp;nbsp;therapy for me and I've gotten to a place where I&amp;nbsp;don't need a consistent therapy session. So this is good right? Progress we can call it. Now, however I am being forced to write because I'm getting confused again. In the last, literally two weeks I've been hearing this "If it's meant to be" term and quite frankly it's getting on my fuggin nerves!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so either you're on&amp;nbsp;Team "Things Happen On Their Own" or Team "You Have To Make Things Happen." I think I'm definitely leaning toward the latter and the more I hear the other side's belief system, the more annoyed I get with said assholes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In life you are taught to go after what you want right? If you want a new job, you have to apply. If you want to do well on a test, you have to study. If you want to be a great musician, you have to practice. I don't think I'm alone in this thinking. For every goal, there is some amount of effort put in to attain it. BUTTTTTT soooooome people just completely disregard this when it comes to relationships. I call these people the excuse-users with the excuse being "if it's meant to be..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Don't get me wrong, I understand timing, but most things in life&amp;nbsp;take more than timing. For all things meant to be, some work had to be done to give birth to whatever the end result is. All I'm saying is, if someone values something and&amp;nbsp;really wants it, they don't mind putting in the work to get it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Agree?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-7555314887472186816?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/7555314887472186816/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2011/06/making-things-happen-vs-waiting-for-it.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/7555314887472186816'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/7555314887472186816'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2011/06/making-things-happen-vs-waiting-for-it.html' title='Making Things Happen vs Waiting For It'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/-m64T24C_59Y/Tf-agW-Ea-I/AAAAAAAAAIw/-EK4g6cS5wE/s72-c/making+it+work.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-2028567889278903796</id><published>2011-04-10T11:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2011-04-10T11:32:27.877-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Thought I Was Through With You...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9PS6xJ1HoT0/TaH2ROvRbeI/AAAAAAAAAIs/ZiWU5rl8fm8/s1600/dirt-pile.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="240" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9PS6xJ1HoT0/TaH2ROvRbeI/AAAAAAAAAIs/ZiWU5rl8fm8/s320/dirt-pile.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I couldn't write for forever and I feel horrible about it. Writing has been such a release for me but I came to a point recently where I just couldn't do it. I've been super depressed, partly because I'm an ungrateful bitch, but mostly because I'm human. I tore my ACL and meniscus, blah blah. I got knee surgery last month and can't walk until next month without the help of torture devices otherwise known as crutches. My whole life has been altered temporarily. I had to move-in with my friend because her apt has an advantage over mine: an elevator. I have to take a frickin bus to work and I'm in pain every single day. It could be worse hence my ungratefulness, so I'll leave my complaining within this first paragraph.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Another part of my faux depression is my over-consuming blog topic. I'm sick of writing about this same particular person, whom I've now dubbed "Worm Food," which isn't really nice because he's not dead. &lt;i&gt;Di Fact: "Worm Food" is dirt mixed with the decaying body of the deceased.&lt;/i&gt;&amp;nbsp;Anyway, as much as I try to convince myself, the idea of him isn't dead either. Sometimes you don't realize how big of an affect someone has in your life, especially when they are no longer a part of it. I don't know if the "dead" guy has this affect because of who he was, or because of who I am. Is it me???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Today I shed a little tear (or several, whatever) because I was upset that attachments aren't yet broken and that memories aren't less emotional. Some things are out of our control, but for someone like me who strives for as much control as possible over my thoughts and life, it's difficult to feel things I honestly just don't want to feel anymore. Frustration is what brought those tears, nothing to do with WF (&amp;lt;--- a lie).&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To curb my feelings of woe, I turned on SATC because Carrie is a God. HBO on Demand is thee shit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just when I thought it was over, came in the harsh reality that I just may need more time. Worm Food may not be the problem; there actually may not be a problem at all and what I feel is supposed to be felt. Moving on and letting go is a process. Just like recovering from my knee surgery, I have to take this other shit one day at a time.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-2028567889278903796?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/2028567889278903796/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-thought-i-was-through-with-you.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/2028567889278903796'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/2028567889278903796'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2011/04/i-thought-i-was-through-with-you.html' title='I Thought I Was Through With You...'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/-9PS6xJ1HoT0/TaH2ROvRbeI/AAAAAAAAAIs/ZiWU5rl8fm8/s72-c/dirt-pile.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-2813619239153792715</id><published>2011-02-07T07:51:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-02-07T07:54:26.581-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Knowledge: Power or Pain?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TVAVBE_n54I/AAAAAAAAAIo/p2BNeHPZOVE/s1600/Liar_Liar.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" h5="true" height="294" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TVAVBE_n54I/AAAAAAAAAIo/p2BNeHPZOVE/s320/Liar_Liar.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate finding out shit! I mean, I don't want to be blindly involved in something and being lied to, but there's just some things I don't want or&amp;nbsp;NEED to know. It's those things I hate finding out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the last few months I have been&amp;nbsp;making a conscious effort to control and take ownership of my feelings, and those efforts were really tested the other day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I hate Tumblr! I guess I hate blogs too. And social networks. These things can&amp;nbsp;reveal a truth that you'd be better off not knowing (or not want to know, but should). I learned a long time ago that following a guy you date on Twitter is notttt a good idea. I even block their statuses off of my news feed on Facebook. Effective communication needs to be tailored to the receiver and in emotional relationships that tailoring often does not exist in a social world.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Social networks are not for liars! Why? Because a lie is too hard to keep up with, and eventually you'll tell on yourself in a status, or blog post, or&amp;nbsp;BBM update. Once that information is public and some unsuspecting young lady, who doesn't know you're a liar will find out that in fact you are A FUGGIN LIAR! Ugh. Cut the lying!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As a reformed liar, I get that some lies are little white lies, like what Kim Kardashian does. Some lies are told with good intentions or are a result of fear. I have a healthy understanding of lying. However, even a white lie can sting once you find out the truth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So is knowledge power or pain? Knowledge gives you an advantage in decision-making, so that's good, but what about when a big decision isn't needed or is difficult, then you're kinda burdened with a truth you didn't want in the first place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Unwanted truths can either be shrugged off or go straight to your memory, where they stay and eventually become insecurity. When I care, I'm not very good at the Kanye shrug, so I have to be very cautious of the "white liars." I can't control who lies to me and what lies they tell, I can only focus on controlling how&amp;nbsp;finding out&amp;nbsp;the truth&amp;nbsp;makes me feel. In the end, what else can you do? Cry about it!?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-2813619239153792715?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/2813619239153792715/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2011/02/knowledge-power-or-pain.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/2813619239153792715'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/2813619239153792715'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2011/02/knowledge-power-or-pain.html' title='Knowledge: Power or Pain?'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TVAVBE_n54I/AAAAAAAAAIo/p2BNeHPZOVE/s72-c/Liar_Liar.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-8211456786029444387</id><published>2011-01-10T10:44:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2011-01-10T10:44:13.736-08:00</updated><title type='text'>But what if they die?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://nextread.co.uk/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/the_end.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="239" n4="true" src="http://nextread.co.uk/blog/wp-content/uploads/2010/11/the_end.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I've been super duper sad today because I read this book. This book is a greaaaat book. I can't post the title, because I'm lending&amp;nbsp;it to my friend to read since I finished it. The whole concept of the book is about timing. It journeys the lives of two friends, a girl and a guy, who go from strangers, to bestfriends who are secretly in love with eachother. Over a span of 20 years, the book chronicalizes their lives. It's so obvious to the reader how much they love eachother, but they spend so much time, wasting, in my opinion, not being together.&amp;nbsp;The guy eventually marries and has a child with someone else, who cheats on him with his best friend (That's what his ass gets!).&amp;nbsp;SMH. So, anyway after about 15 years, a plethura of fights between them and failed relationships with other people, they finally GET TOGETHER!!! Yay!!!! THEN...she gets hit by a car and DIES! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No lie. I was reading on the train and nearly burst into tears. SHE DIES!? After all of this, all of the back and forth, and friendship, and love, and passion, and missed opportunities. They finally get it together, get married, and she dies riding her bike home from the gym. Sucks right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This got me to thinking. What if he dies? What if I die? What happens when all the missed opportunities become the last opportunity...ever? If you really love someone, but just can't get it right, are you willing to lose them forever because you can't? I guess this is where timing comes into play. They spent all of that time not being together, maybe because they weren't supposed to, no matter how much I felt like they should reading along angrily. But maybe not. Maybe there's a chance that while timing is a huge factor in life and relationships, maybe if you appreciated what you had in front of you, you could have the life you want before it's too late???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The female lead essentially waited for the male lead to realize what he had in front of him all along. Granted, she lived her life and had other relationships, but she always felt a constant "what-if"&amp;nbsp;that stopped her from ever really letting go of him. She waited so long that once they finally we're together and married, it was difficult for her to have children, and she died before she could. BUT in the same argument, she married someone that she always loved, I guess her "soulmate", and she got to experience that two years before her death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, today I'm wondering&amp;nbsp;is everything really about fate or the decisions we make along the way? What happens when you run out of time...forever?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-8211456786029444387?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/8211456786029444387/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2011/01/but-what-if-they-die.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/8211456786029444387'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/8211456786029444387'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2011/01/but-what-if-they-die.html' title='But what if they die?'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-7985831118238699510</id><published>2010-12-19T14:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-19T15:11:00.424-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Get A Hobby Girl!</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TQ6LtxZjyAI/AAAAAAAAAIY/SP-wuw3dzP8/s1600/200208351-002angry-black-woman.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TQ6LtxZjyAI/AAAAAAAAAIY/SP-wuw3dzP8/s320/200208351-002angry-black-woman.jpg" width="257" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;It's easy to be in a relationship with someone and enjoy the time you spend together so much that you want to be with them all of the time. To some of you, this may not sound like a problem, however, it's a HUGE problem. Eventually someone is going to want more time outside of the relationship and chances are it will be him. If you're a girl who values her personal time and enjoys life outside of her romantic relationship, this may be a sting, but not devastating. For those of you, who sadly, have centered your life around your significant other, tsk tsk, shame on you! Once he starts pulling away, your poor life begins to suck, you'll be a bitch and he'll spend more time away from you.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;I read this excerpt from an article about a year ago and I'll never forget it...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;"If he's busy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;, he has the ability to fill his life with things that aren't you." You need to learn how to do the same.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;I hate hearing stories of girls staying home all night waiting for their man to come home from the club. Or women arguing with their men for watching the game or going out with their boys. If you had a life of your own outside of your relationship, you would be more secure in your time apart and in turn more attractive to him. Instead of screaming at him to come home, make him come home because he misses you. If he spends majority of his free time without you, you need to re-elvaulate whatever relationship you think you have.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Find something to do! If you can't think of two or at least one thing you enjoy doing that doesn't involve your man, you have a serious problem on your hands. Eventually your dependency on him will be a complete downfall to your relationship. Then your next relationship will also suck because you'll be so used to being dependent on someone that you'll probably fall prematurely for the next. But hey, these are my opinions.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;I have learned that when you disappear a little, a man will seek you. Next time he wants to go out, cool, let him enjoy his night with no harassing texts from you. He calls you, don't answer, wait an hour and call back. If you want to talk to him, don't contact him, wait until he reaches out to you this time. It's not necessarily "a game",&amp;nbsp;but don't be so available. &lt;s&gt;Pretend to&lt;/s&gt;&amp;nbsp;please have a life!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;If you don't give your man a hard time and you do your own thing, but are still dissatisfied with the time he gives toward spending time together, chances are, he doesn't want to spend time with you!!! At this point, you should look into spending your time with someone else...permanently. I'm just saying.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="border-collapse: collapse; font-family: arial, sans-serif; font-size: 13px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-7985831118238699510?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/7985831118238699510/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/12/get-hobby-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/7985831118238699510'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/7985831118238699510'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/12/get-hobby-girl.html' title='Get A Hobby Girl!'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TQ6LtxZjyAI/AAAAAAAAAIY/SP-wuw3dzP8/s72-c/200208351-002angry-black-woman.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-1451211382594628689</id><published>2010-12-11T09:26:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-12-13T09:35:39.524-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Were We Meant To Be?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;object height="344" width="425"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/CDyVVGpgLn4?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/CDyVVGpgLn4?fs=1&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="425" height="344"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Were you meant for me or are you here to help me find my way to love?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In our dating lives, many will come and many more will go. Every person that you fall in love with will not be the person you stay in love with or they stay in love with you. Unless you're Beyonce, it may take you a time or two to get it right. All good things must come to an end. While endings are sad boots, especially when you think you really love someone, maybe they were just there to help you get to where you're going. (Btw: sad boots = very sad. I speak like a gay guy.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have fallen in love several times, and in each of those situations I thought the guy was THEE SHIT. Like no one would be able to tell me anything about him, because I knew in my heart and soul that he was "Superman." Just yesterday I had a conversation with my old roommate and she asked me about one of my exes. In my story-telling, she stopped me, rather rudely because she was laughing so hard at my current feelings for my ex. My feelings now are compleeeetely opposite of how I used to feel about him. Things change. Several years ago, I couldn't imagine being over him, now he's barely an afterthought (sorry dude). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the moment of being in love or being heartbroken, it's hard to imagine that the feelings you feel for someone, aren't really meant for them. However, they may only be in your life to help you find what you really want, but just don't know yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Each of my (serious) relationships/situations have been an upgrade from the previous. They may not be equal or better in all areas, but overall the new guy is always somehow better than the last one. At least better for me. I take with me to the next, some&amp;nbsp;new knowledge and experience&amp;nbsp;that I didn't have before, so in the end, what happened before was just practice. Plus, I just love new shit! Once I'm over the old feelings, I'm over OVER it, because I'm naturally a "change is good" person. Things can only go up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, for the love you may not be over now, maybe he was just there to help you find your way to real love, the realest and last love you&amp;nbsp;may ever have in your life.&amp;nbsp;If you were given the opportunity, let's say God called you up and said "Hey girl, you have 2 options: You can have (your boo's name goes here) and the relationship you already have for the rest of your life OR you can have a relationship where you will always be happy, and respected, and loved except I can't tell you who he is yet." Who would you choose? The man who you want now or the one you don't know? The unknown is frightening, and that's actually the real cause of the heartbreak. Not knowing when, with who, and how you would be able to experience those feelings again. If you're sad, isn't the chance of future happiness kinda worth the sacrifice of the guy standing in the way of present happiness? Even if you think he will make you happy in the future, do you really want to wait and see?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Looking back, I feel like some of the times that I felt "in love" it had very little to do with actual love itself. I think it was more of an excitement/addiction/comfort blend that together made me feel strong feelings, but if I really loved them like I thought, wouldn't I still? When do we realize we're just not meant to be?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-1451211382594628689?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/1451211382594628689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/12/were-we-meant-to-be.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/1451211382594628689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/1451211382594628689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/12/were-we-meant-to-be.html' title='Were We Meant To Be?'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-6466834457669517217</id><published>2010-11-22T12:29:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-22T12:36:48.912-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Must Not Fall...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TOrORjrmgnI/AAAAAAAAAIU/h0w8qGH5NnM/s1600/Fall.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TOrORjrmgnI/AAAAAAAAAIU/h0w8qGH5NnM/s320/Fall.jpg" width="240" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I stumbled drunkenly into a bathroom stall Thursday night and as I was finishing the deed, I finally noticed what was written on the wall behind me..."I&amp;nbsp;Must Not Fall For Bad Boys." WTFeezy! While small, the moment felt like some kind of miracle!!! (Well, not a miracle, but&amp;nbsp;a "sign"&amp;nbsp;at the very least.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After snapping this pic of the wall, I've been spending the last few days re-looking at this photo in my phone&amp;nbsp;and being inspired by it. Must. Not. Fall (especially for "bad" boys). &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the past, I have "fallen" into things and situations that while I don't regeret them, if I would have used more logic, I would have been able to avoid a lot of heartbreak.&amp;nbsp;Now, I don't&amp;nbsp;want to "fall" anymore. I rather use both heart and logic equally&amp;nbsp;to journey into something, side-by-side, as opposed to "falling" and hoping to be caught. The word "falling" doesn't sound like something good anyway! If someone called you and said only the words&amp;nbsp;"I fell" you would ask&amp;nbsp;if they were okay, with the assumption that they got hurt. Right? Is it bitter of me to associate "falling"&amp;nbsp;with "hurt"...?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Must Not Fall For Bad Boys." "Bad Boys" and please add "Bad (for YOU) Boys."&amp;nbsp;I know all too well about those! They're not necessarily "bad" but they can be verrry bad for you. These "bad" boys for me all had one thing in common: They were extremely unavailable! Reasons being: Not over an ex or&amp;nbsp;a workaholic or torn between their spiritual life and their dating life or had Mommy-issues...the list contines. These guys&amp;nbsp;weren't bad,&amp;nbsp;but they&amp;nbsp;were bad for me. I'm at a place where I am open and available and I need to date someone who is also open and available.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think for the most part I have&amp;nbsp;always been open, but I dated so many guys who weren't because I didn't know that I was. If I heard "I'm not looking for a relationship" I thought "Great, because I'm not either!," but that's not entirely true. While I'm not looking for a relationship, I'm open to the idea of one. My openness mixed with someone else's "closedness" can only lead to one place: being hurt; and that's somewhere I have no interest in being any time soon...&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-6466834457669517217?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/6466834457669517217/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/11/must-not-fall.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/6466834457669517217'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/6466834457669517217'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/11/must-not-fall.html' title='Must Not Fall...'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TOrORjrmgnI/AAAAAAAAAIU/h0w8qGH5NnM/s72-c/Fall.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-5635940255093339998</id><published>2010-11-10T07:53:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-10T07:53:32.937-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Let him go and if he comes back, and back, and back...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TNq-BkSDrPI/AAAAAAAAAIM/War42Ix70HQ/s1600/mrbig.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TNq-BkSDrPI/AAAAAAAAAIM/War42Ix70HQ/s320/mrbig.jpg" width="261" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;They say: "If you love someone, let them go and if they come back &lt;em&gt;blah blah blah&lt;/em&gt;." But what if they do come back and it doesn't mean shit!? And you let them go again...and AGAIN, they come back. And again, and again, and &lt;em&gt;sigh...&lt;/em&gt;again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Could this old-age phrase really be as stupid as I think? There's a limit on the "coming backs" right? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think only girls&amp;nbsp;depend on these little words of wisdom when going through a break-up. I don't know how many times I've heard "Girl, they always come back," or been asked "Do you think he's thinking about me?" I may be wrong, but I don't think guys are sitting around with their friends saying "Let her go dog, she'll come back. Ya'll are meant to be together!" o_O&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other day I was sitting and thinking that I no longer have a Mr. Big in my life and honestly, I&amp;nbsp;felt some kind of way about it. I had always been used to having these long, drawn-out, back and forth relationships with guys who never seemed to stay away long.&amp;nbsp;While I still have a few of those, I definitely don't feel the same way about them as I used to. Then I thought, why do I want a Mr. Big anyway!? While things worked out for Carrie in the end, it was&amp;nbsp;10 YEARS&amp;nbsp;of some bullshit to get there. Do you really want to play hide-and-go-seek with a man for 10 years to finally get his love consistently? I don't. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you love someone and you&amp;nbsp;HAVE to let them go...let them stay. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;*These are just my opinions, which change with growth. Who knows,&amp;nbsp;some guy may&amp;nbsp;make me change my mind. I doubt it though *shrugs*&lt;/em&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-5635940255093339998?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/5635940255093339998/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/11/let-him-go-and-if-he-comes-back-and.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/5635940255093339998'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/5635940255093339998'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/11/let-him-go-and-if-he-comes-back-and.html' title='Let him go and if he comes back, and back, and back...'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TNq-BkSDrPI/AAAAAAAAAIM/War42Ix70HQ/s72-c/mrbig.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-1062083020488536583</id><published>2010-11-09T09:47:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2010-11-09T09:49:04.888-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Love, From A Stranger on Facebook</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TNmGIApEdZI/AAAAAAAAAII/pEA_eam4nEc/s1600/facebook+love.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="232" px="true" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TNmGIApEdZI/AAAAAAAAAII/pEA_eam4nEc/s320/facebook+love.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I get a lot of messages from guys on facebook. Most of them warrant me deleting both the message and the sender, but one day I got this...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Peace...I don't know much of anything about you but I do know that you are a prime example of why the black woman is the most beautiful creature on this planet. I've believed since the very first moment that I laid eyes on you (yes, I have been fortunate enough to witness your glow in person lol). It is because of this that I know you will find the energy that you need, via the "right people", and the water that comes to you will surely help your garden grow..Bless&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;P.S. "Patience is a virtue"&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0coryDGOdwg"&gt;http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0coryDGOdwg&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Since I recieved this note, there has been a seed planted in me that says: I'm willing to wait for someone AWESOME and who adores me, then to waste more of my time on guys who don't have the sense to know I am the shit!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If this guy whom I've never even met, can see more in me, than someone I am dating...I'm doing something wrong....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Instead of settling...Be patient!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S: My secret admirer (lol, that's such a funny term) is a graduate of Howard, really nice, charming guy whom I had the pleasure of meeting in person last week. He has a degree in philosophy, and everything he says to me is on the same level of depthness that was in his first note. It's so funny the way he speaks and he's killing me with flattery, but it's a good feeling being admired ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-1062083020488536583?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/1062083020488536583/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/11/love-from-stranger-on-facebook.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/1062083020488536583'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/1062083020488536583'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/11/love-from-stranger-on-facebook.html' title='Love, From A Stranger on Facebook'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TNmGIApEdZI/AAAAAAAAAII/pEA_eam4nEc/s72-c/facebook+love.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-2671719212038888790</id><published>2010-10-24T06:10:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-24T06:32:57.050-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Do You Know His Credit Score?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TMQuBOvEIbI/AAAAAAAAAIE/bHRo079wlXE/s1600/credit-score-report.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TMQuBOvEIbI/AAAAAAAAAIE/bHRo079wlXE/s400/credit-score-report.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;In dating, sometimes you can wrongfully judge a book by its cover. You meet a guy, and you decide who you think he is, who he's going to be, and what you think you want from him. These judgements are based on attractiveness, little facts you learned through conversation, stalking him on his facebook and twitter, and/or what you heard from people who know him (if you're lucky). From these pre-judgments, a decision is made: to date or not to date. If he is so lucky, you and the young man begin the process of "Getting To Know Eachother." In this process, a girl must be very careful to pay attention because this is a pivotal point in which all other decisions must be based. At this time you need to find out his credit score!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;I learned a very valuable lesson in credit: Don't give someone American Express credit when they are only deserving of pre-paid Rush card status. Does this make sense? (Catch me at the break-break-down)&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;To more easily decipher through the mess in which I have labeled my dating life (sad). I am now classifying boys (I haven't met any men) into 3 groups based on what they deserve from me. American Express, Debit, and Pre-paid Rush Cards.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;American Express guys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Haven't found this yet, obviously. Although, I made a mistake of putting one person here because I judged him to be so great. I guess the pressure of my sainthood label was too much for him because he committed credit suicide and completely dropped out of this category. Sigh, I thought he was a good one too!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;I honestly, can't even tell you of an American Express credit worthy guy, but when I find out, I will let you know. For now, let's just say he'll be like no one you've ever met (in the best way possible)!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Debit guys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;This is where most guys should fall (unless you have a bad problem picking men). They add money to their card, they have higher spending potential...simple. Give a man credit based on his actions, not from what you hope he deserves. Allow him to show you what he deserves and you can give him a little more at a time. We make the mistake of thinking we like or even love someone so much we just give them a bunch of free shit! I am not a gift bag and neither are you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;b&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Pre-paid Rush card guys&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/b&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Ugh, this is the worst of the worst! These guys are complete bums. They hardly ever have any credit on their card, yet they just swipe, swipe, SWIPE! They are beyond undeserving of whatever you have to offer, but for the sake of Christianity you are nice to them. These guys can be exes who've demoted themselves soooo much, but you still answer their calls every once in a while. They can be someone you've recently met, who has messed up so much already you think either he's a complete idiot or he must hate you!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;These guys are in need of serious credit help, and you are not the one to do it. Leave them alone! Allow them to file for bankruptcy on their own terms and build up their credit without you.&amp;nbsp;I do believe a person can build their wealth, I just wouldn't wait for it.&amp;nbsp;If he comes back flashing, even a Debit card, with limited coins on it, then maybe you can meet up in person. Until that time comes, keep your interactions with him few and far in between. You don't want that kind of brokeness rubbing off on you! When I say brokeness, it's not in terms of money. It's a broken spirit, that allows a person to not appreciate or respect a great thing when it's right in front of them. His de-value of the credit in which you deserve will always be his downfall in the end. As they say: You never miss a good thing til it leaves you!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;So, I hope this small lesson in credit is helpful, but most of all, I hope you are realistic about your own credit score! You can't be a Baby Phat card looking for an American Express man. Get yourself where you need to be and then seek your equal. I am not perfect!!! I have fears and insecurities and issues I need to get past, however I know what I give and I know what I deserve to get back + bonus points!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;In any other race, one would tell you to "Go For The Gold,!" but in dating, always go for The Platinum!&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Please note: This message is not intended for Gold Diggers. I am not telling you to go after a man's money. Get your own coins, Big girl &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/i&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;; )&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Xoxo,&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Di Marie&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-2671719212038888790?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/2671719212038888790/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/10/do-you-know-his-credit-score.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/2671719212038888790'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/2671719212038888790'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/10/do-you-know-his-credit-score.html' title='Do You Know His Credit Score?'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TMQuBOvEIbI/AAAAAAAAAIE/bHRo079wlXE/s72-c/credit-score-report.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-8743276623942795932</id><published>2010-10-11T19:16:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-12T07:27:35.123-07:00</updated><title type='text'>I Got The Juice Now!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TLPBh2OaqMI/AAAAAAAAAIA/v9YV_KEl6yI/s1600/images-1.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="279" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TLPBh2OaqMI/AAAAAAAAAIA/v9YV_KEl6yI/s400/images-1.jpeg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;It's October. Leaves are falling to the ground. The sun is setting sooner and it's getting colder. Typically this is the season to set up a niiice boo situation for the winter. Me, on the contrary, have been slashing guys like a Halloween thriller.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why? Just because I can and I have been developing a very low tolerance for bullshit. I have deleted like 100 guys off of my facebook. I've deleted like 13 numbers out of my phone. I have ended about 6 "friendships" with guys I used to date. From guys that have been around since I was 16 to guys from 2 weeks ago...no one is exempt! Even "The Greatest Ex" got cut last night, in which I'm still shaking my head about. Oh well!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is the deal...I deserve better friendships and better people in my life. If you aren't giving me peace and love, you must go...period. No stress. No B.S. No lying. No back and forth. No. Nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Bums of Bullshit Past are no longer skeletons in my closet. I'm cleaning mine out for the winter, eff waiting for spring! Sometimes, you wait so long to do something, before you realize the effect it has on you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Life happens so fast and you put people in categories they don't even belong in. I came to the realization that these so-called friends really weren't friends at all. If one wasn't asking me for naked pics, another was arguing about who I have or haven't slept with. Then there was one I was dating, but not dating because we were "just friends." That's bullshit. Then, there were those who were less important, who I've gone on a date or two, or those who thought hanging out in my apartment was better than asking me out. Am I supposed to cook for you too?! Hell nah! YOU'RE FIRED!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway, I've been feeling great about my new and lighter friend list. I have never taken such inventory before, and I'm proud that I am. Dating me is a privilege. Being a friend of mine has value. In all the days, I thought I had it, now I know for sure...I got the juice!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And it's so damn sweet. I suggest you get yours too ; )&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-8743276623942795932?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/8743276623942795932/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-got-juice-now.html#comment-form' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/8743276623942795932'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/8743276623942795932'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/10/i-got-juice-now.html' title='I Got The Juice Now!'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TLPBh2OaqMI/AAAAAAAAAIA/v9YV_KEl6yI/s72-c/images-1.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-9163244586166751572</id><published>2010-09-15T18:00:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-10T05:28:08.511-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Easy In, Not-So Easy Out</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" qx="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TJFuCBImhlI/AAAAAAAAAH0/nlDQbIDVNmI/s400/in_n_out_logo.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Falling in like can be so easy! A few late-night texts, random dinner dates in Harlem soul-food restaurants, hour long iChats and Voila! You're all smiles as you sit before a group of friends interrogating you about your recent where-abouts. This stage seems to happen so easily, with such little mental input, that you're in it before you realize you&amp;nbsp;haven't even exchanged middle names. Being in "it" is actually pretty cool. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's exciting to see the person you've been thinking about all day, flash before your blackberry screen, or pop up during a quick Facebook break. To like and to be liked gives such an energetic and "possibilities-are-endless" feeling, that, admittingly, I think I may like too much. I haven't been &lt;em&gt;single&lt;/em&gt; single since about the 6th grade. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anyway. Falling in like, turns to many things, sometimes very beautiful things such as love, friendship, and companionship. Then...there are the ugly things, the ugliest of them all being...COMPLICATED. Ughhhh.&lt;br /&gt;Complicated. The road to hell is paved with good intentions. You just want to get it right, and sometimes you do, then other times it's so messy. Breaking up to make up. Together but not. I love you, but wouldn't admit it because I'm not sure you feel the same. Things were so easy those months ago! What happened to the smooth, easy, grade-school skipping journey we were on? When did jokes become real questions? Why are you mad again? Who is she???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have been in two complicated relationships (one real, one fake)&amp;nbsp;in my life. The first was an ex, who I "cheated" on. He broke up with me, and was too angry to get back together, but not so angry to play back and forth with me a year (or more) after our breakup. I say I "cheated" because it wasn't real cheating, I just socially-cheated. I kinda wanted to be in a relationship, but I still wanted to hang out with other guys, even if they were exes. I wasn't doing anything "wrong" in my eyes, just maintaining previous friendships. The boyfriend obviously had a different P.O.V.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then, there was (or is), the Pen Pal. I'll say very little about this situation other than it is #2 and one of the best learning experiences ever! If he and I shall never speak again in life, I'd at least take with me a higher Scrabble IQ, vauge New York slang, and motivation to not participate in such complication a third time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The messy, sticky strings of complication are a barrier to both relationship normalcy and freedom. It's hard to get to either side. You're just stuck in like/love/relationship purgatory. You know things will never work out between you (despite being hopeful). The situation has become a countdown to the complete and real ending. Somehow, you just got stuck on repeat in the "10...9...8" area. But strength be unto the weary...there is hope! (Say "yay!!!")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As natural as it was getting in, the exit is so superbly natural! However, my child,&amp;nbsp;the grand exit&amp;nbsp;may take a while...but it does come.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You wake-up to start your normal routine. You go to brush your teeth. You flat iron your hair. You grab your keys, run to catch your train, get to work and realize, he didn't cross your mind for 2 hours. Your next realization comes and it's been weeks since you last talked to him. Then one day, like magic, you'll forget him!!! Not forget in the real sense of the word, unless you're suddenly plauged with amnesia, in which case, lucky you!&amp;nbsp;I'm speaking more of the kinda forget you have for the boy who you only saw and liked when you visited your cousins in the suburbs (or city). What's his name again?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soon you will forget...or in my case, replace him with someone new!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sidenote: I really need to work on this &lt;em&gt;single&lt;/em&gt; single thing! *Shrugs*&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-9163244586166751572?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/9163244586166751572/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/09/easy-in-not-so-easy-out.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/9163244586166751572'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/9163244586166751572'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/09/easy-in-not-so-easy-out.html' title='Easy In, Not-So Easy Out'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TJFuCBImhlI/AAAAAAAAAH0/nlDQbIDVNmI/s72-c/in_n_out_logo.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-5556634051532998802</id><published>2010-09-12T07:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-12T07:39:21.567-07:00</updated><title type='text'>La Vie en Rose</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TIzl-h6Sv_I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Y-Faad8Xe74/s1600/rose+colored.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="300" ox="true" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TIzl-h6Sv_I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Y-Faad8Xe74/s400/rose+colored.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;On most&amp;nbsp;mornings I sing in the shower. Mainly because that's the only time I sound "good" singing. My "shower karaoke playlist" consists of 90s and early 2000 R&amp;amp;B songs that in my own mind I sound great singing. Yesterday I started with SWV "Weak." I'm actually a fairly good Coko, with bathroom acoustics and running water to drown out my real voice. After "Weak" and Usher's "You Remind Me," I started singing one of my favorite songs by Missy, which sad to say is "Beep Me 911." As I was singing and because I know majority of the words, I tried my hand at Magoo's verse. As I got to the end I realized something profound. WOMEN ARE STUPID!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In "Beep Me 911" Missy is basically singing her heart out to a guy who is leaving her. She's asking, "What have I done?"&amp;nbsp;Then she&amp;nbsp;tries to guilt him with a myriad of "I gave up clubs and parties...I did this for you, I did that," all to no avail because once Magoo starts rapping its clear their relationship is over. Magoo ends his verse with these three lines. And seriously, &lt;strong&gt;Read. This. Slowly.&lt;/strong&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Girl, get yo mind checked&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;Take the time, recollect&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;I just gave you disrespect&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Do you know what this means? Ok, I'll tell you. While "Beep Me 911" won't go down in history as one of the greatest songs ever. This song, if you dissect things like me, can really put things in perspective in your dating life. How many times have you missed someone, thinking about all the good times, and wondering what part you played in things going downhill? Probably too many times. Women have a way of only seeing the good, and over-emphasizing it so much that when a relationship is over, we feel like we are now missing out! This is not true. Take the time to recollect, he just gave you disrespect! (Note: This is extreme, but I'm making a point. Most relationships end because you're just with the wrong person, even if&amp;nbsp;you both&amp;nbsp;try.)&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;If things we're so good in your relationship...it wouldn't be over or ending (slowly). If things were so good, you wouldn't have cried last night, and you probably wouldn't cry later this afternoon. If things we're so good, you wouldn't be alone reminiscing on the good times, you'd be making more good times right now. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;Don't view your relationships La Vie En Rose. "Life in pink", "Rose-colored glasses", "Only the positive"...I can go on with phrases&amp;nbsp;that say&amp;nbsp;"Shit is all good." It's not. Being realistic doesn't make you negative, it makes you an adult. See things and people for exactly what and who they are. If someone is leaving you, they don't want to be with you. Oh well! If he's cheating on you, he doesn't respect you, so why are you staying? It's probably because in 1998, you didn't take Magoo's verse seriously! Lol.&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="text-align: left;"&gt;On a more honest note: Listen to a man's words, and more importantly, his actions and not your own hopes and desires. Be realistic....it's easier in the long run. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-5556634051532998802?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/5556634051532998802/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/09/la-vie-en-rose.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/5556634051532998802'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/5556634051532998802'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/09/la-vie-en-rose.html' title='La Vie en Rose'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TIzl-h6Sv_I/AAAAAAAAAHk/Y-Faad8Xe74/s72-c/rose+colored.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-3653089370499540256</id><published>2010-09-11T06:48:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-09-11T06:52:35.439-07:00</updated><title type='text'>G.A.M.E</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TIuHyiNGvMI/AAAAAAAAAHc/PLnX8w9xP6E/s1600/candyland.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="277" ox="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TIuHyiNGvMI/AAAAAAAAAHc/PLnX8w9xP6E/s400/candyland.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I read a very very very interesting blogpost on Very Smart Brothas. I'll drop the link below. I don't want you reading their ish before mine lol. Anyway, the post was "5 Things Men Say (and do) When We’re Just Running Game." I said, "WTF!" This is exactly what I wanted to read! Last week, I had an interesting BBM convo where one guy basically told me that another guy was running game. &lt;em&gt;Me: Really?&lt;/em&gt; Now, that "really" has just been stuck in head. Have I been tricked all this time??? Was I believing some b.s, taking it as truth when it was just a line? "Not me" I thought but, maybe, just maybe I actually &lt;em&gt;was&lt;/em&gt; being gamed. Hmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a pretty understanding person. I tell people all the time I can understand most things because I did most things. I understand lying, because I have lied. I understand cheating (to some degree), because I have "cheated." I get most things! People have insecurites, and issues, and other life experiences that affect who they are as they relate to other people, especially in romantic relationships. However, the article got me to thinking: Can I trust what he says? Granted, everything a guy tells you won't be a lie, but for DAMN SURE some of it is. How do we know what is an excuse/a line/bullshit...versus what is real?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I actually don't think "game" is necessarily a bad thing. I think "game" is a combination of when you say something and how you say it. I have tons of game! I am extremely flirty, with intellectual, witty, sarcasm that seems to get guys weak in the knees. Game is about timing, and I have that down to a science! However, I don't be lying! Once you start lying, it's not "game" anymore. It. Is. A. Lie. Asshole! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So how do we know? It's easy to say "I know when someone's lying to me." Umm, no you don't honey. You can &lt;em&gt;feel &lt;/em&gt;that someone's lying, but without blatant evidence, it's just speculation. Speculation is an easy thing to talk yourself out of especially when feelings are involved. So, now I'm running inventory of past conversation, thinking "was this a lie...was that a lie?" It's pretty annoying but I haven't mastered mind control yet. Until then, all "game" is evil and boys can't be trusted. Sigh :/&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very Smart Brothas http://www.verysmartbrothas.com/5-common-things-men-say-when-were-just-running-game/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-3653089370499540256?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/3653089370499540256/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/09/game.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/3653089370499540256'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/3653089370499540256'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/09/game.html' title='G.A.M.E'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TIuHyiNGvMI/AAAAAAAAAHc/PLnX8w9xP6E/s72-c/candyland.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-5957392351945873130</id><published>2010-08-31T17:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-31T18:02:36.482-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Frankie Says Relax</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TH2kNfxwolI/AAAAAAAAAHM/oeHiBFhzhek/s1600/Frankie+says+relax_small.gif" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="200" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TH2kNfxwolI/AAAAAAAAAHM/oeHiBFhzhek/s200/Frankie+says+relax_small.gif" width="200" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Have you ever found out something that you wish you just didn't know? Is ignorance really bliss? I got confirmation of something that I kinda always known, but the confirmation has really screwed me up. When I kinda knew, it bothered me, but it was a bit easier to sweep under the rug. Now, that all the cards are on the table, I have been obsessed with a truth that I once so cheerfully ignored. Sigh!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Times, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;So now, a part of me wishes I never proposed the question that got me the answer that I really didn't want to hear. If I would have never asked, I would have never been told, then things would have gone on the way they were. It wasn't necessarily a lie, it was more-so, something that was there but not talked about (btw, omission is a lie).&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;On the other hand, once you accept something as being real or an issue you can move on from it. While the moving on process may send you into the lowest of valleys, it's also the journey to getting to the next hill. Sometimes the truth is just hard to hear, then hard to process, then hard to accept, then hard to get past, then hard to not think about every time you think about that person. Ugh! I've been doing way too much over-analyzing, but I'm a pretty intense thinker (I like to say philosophical). &amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Basically, I've been tripping. Granted, when your heart is in something, whether its a friendship, relationship, job, etc...when &amp;nbsp;things happen that aren't consistent with your desires, it's difficult to not feel some kind of way about it, but "Frankie Says Relax."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt; &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Sometimes the things you don't want to know are the things you need to know. It's all good. It's not the end of the world because things take a different turn, just go with the flow.&amp;nbsp;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Georgia, 'Times New Roman', serif;"&gt;Still, a part of me wishes I just never asked the question. Not because I would have stayed in the dark, but I'm wasting so much energy analyzing it :/&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande';"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-5957392351945873130?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/5957392351945873130/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/08/frankie-says-relax.html#comment-form' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/5957392351945873130'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/5957392351945873130'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/08/frankie-says-relax.html' title='Frankie Says Relax'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TH2kNfxwolI/AAAAAAAAAHM/oeHiBFhzhek/s72-c/Frankie+says+relax_small.gif' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-4968710884002978770</id><published>2010-08-03T23:43:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-08-03T23:47:07.653-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Getting Over The Hur(t)le</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TFkK5GEwjAI/AAAAAAAAAHE/X1bV3fACCQQ/s1600/74872314.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="266" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TFkK5GEwjAI/AAAAAAAAAHE/X1bV3fACCQQ/s400/74872314.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Someone once told me you're never in love with someone, you're only in love with the way they make you feel (and someone else can make you feel the same way.) Feelings. Blah. Its 2am and I'm up writing to Coltrane "A Sentimental Mood" and I have super mixed feelings. Feelings of love and hate for one person. Crush kinda feelings for another. Afraid of someone else and on-the-fence about yet another someone else.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seemingly, I have a lot going on. Which I find happens as I'm attempting to get over someone else. The replacement method. Which for the record, is totally not working. It used to. I used to be able to effectively replace people, but now the people I date mean more to me. They are more special; less replaceable and when their presence leaves me: harder to get over. Am I in love with the feelings or the person? Feelings &amp;gt; Person...(I haven't figured out yet.)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either way, this process is quite frustrating and unintentionally leaves me second guessing myself, when in reality I know who I am. I know I am a likable and lovable person. All things that I remind others of when they're enduring these same "love pains" so why do we forget when its our turn? I guess its not necessarily the person or the feelings, but the death of something that was created between two people. Death and grieving is synonymous, so the experience is necessary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I give up on my new shiny toy quest. People who really mean(t) something to you can't be replaced. You may meet someone similar, someone worse, or someone better, but they are who they are. In the beginning, he didn't mean what he means to you now, and like seasons change...everything else does.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My new tactic is to enjoy the ride out just as I enjoyed the ride in. In the meanwhile, learning you can't force getting over it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-4968710884002978770?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/4968710884002978770/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/08/getting-over-hurtle.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/4968710884002978770'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/4968710884002978770'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/08/getting-over-hurtle.html' title='Getting Over The Hur(t)le'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TFkK5GEwjAI/AAAAAAAAAHE/X1bV3fACCQQ/s72-c/74872314.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-5340723212064171388</id><published>2010-07-11T16:39:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-11T16:39:15.348-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Season Finale: How To Know When It's Time</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TDpTRweW1uI/AAAAAAAAAG8/vmr4Y2kpEss/s1600/its_over_sing_fat_lady_sing_tshirt-p235613467421805447trlf_400.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TDpTRweW1uI/AAAAAAAAAG8/vmr4Y2kpEss/s400/its_over_sing_fat_lady_sing_tshirt-p235613467421805447trlf_400.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;There comes a time when the show must end and you must begin a new season with a new supporting actor. Sometimes it's difficult to know just when that time is, especially once feelings are involved, so here's my top ten list of when I start to get the point.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;1. He Brody's You!&lt;br /&gt;Being Brody'd is basically getting played. The last episode of The Hills, Brody called Kristin his "little sister"...NOT COOL. When you have a strong feeling that you're being Brody'd, it pretty much goes downhill from there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;2. He says "I like you, but not as much as you like me"&lt;br /&gt;Ding Ding Ding...RUN AWAAAAAAY&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;3. He refers to you or introduces you as a "homie" or "homegirl"...yea girl, you're just a friend or you're a secret&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;4. Majority of your conversation about him is through venting to your girlfriends&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;5. You're not happy&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;6. He ignores your calls or messages for days or weeks at a time...(there's not that much "busy" in the world. When he cares about you, taking a second out of his day for you is effortless)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;7. Things never seem to grow&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;8. The situation often leaves you in tears (and for you non-emo girls, you're always mad at him, which btw anger IS an emotion, don't judge us "crybabies")&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;9. You're friends give you that "What the hell is wrong with you" face, or if they're good friends, they actually say it :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;10. The MOST important: You know without a shadow of a doubt, you deserve better!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*Disclaimer: Some season finales are an hour and some may take 2 hours. Endings are difficult. Don't beat yourself up if your last episode seems too full of commercial breaks, eventually you'll go off-air and a new season begins ;)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-5340723212064171388?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/5340723212064171388/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/07/season-finale-how-to-know-when-its-time.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/5340723212064171388'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/5340723212064171388'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/07/season-finale-how-to-know-when-its-time.html' title='Season Finale: How To Know When It&apos;s Time'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TDpTRweW1uI/AAAAAAAAAG8/vmr4Y2kpEss/s72-c/its_over_sing_fat_lady_sing_tshirt-p235613467421805447trlf_400.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-667980204108521656</id><published>2010-07-08T14:59:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-08T14:59:11.047-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Waiting Game?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TDZI853-cfI/AAAAAAAAAG0/MVvpBBOtSeQ/s1600/girl+w+clock.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="267" rw="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TDZI853-cfI/AAAAAAAAAG0/MVvpBBOtSeQ/s400/girl+w+clock.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Lately I’ve been hearing a lot of people getting together, married, or relationships improving. Some of these people have been dating and/or having relations (shout out to Bill) long-term, but in between the start date and the current, there has been a lot of B.S. I love hearing and seeing someone happy, however what must a girl go through with her man to get there?! Why are&amp;nbsp;girls going through so much to be in a normal, healthy, loving relationship with someone; shouldn’t that just be the default, instead of the goal? Is The Dating Game really The Waiting Game???&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A guy friend&amp;nbsp;told me one of our friends was engaged to his girl, whom he has cheated on a gazillion times, in which&amp;nbsp;my friend&amp;nbsp;said “she earned that ring.” WHAT!? So I can’t get the ring because I’m awesome and you love me? You have to cheat first, and make me cry, and break my heart a few times THEN give me what I deserve? Ummm *confused BBM face*. Why do I get the wedding AFTER you have kids with someone else? Why do I get your love AFTER you’ve given all of your lust away? Why do we have to wait for you? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don’t want to be one of those 35-year old single black women complaining about the dating pool, but I also don’t want to be a in relationship or married to someone who has disappointed me a billion times. No matter how much you love the man, you’re settling for him! It’s like saying “I love you sooo much more than I do myself that I’ll take whatever you give me until it’s what I want.” Why? You really don’t think you can be with someone else? Whatever happened to "There's plenty of fish in the sea”!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I get two people growing together, I get a man having his fears and I get putting up with someone because I’m sure whoever I marry would have put up with some of my antics along the way. I also get sticking it out to some degree; however some things are just not worth sticking through. Some things are just not cool enough to put up with. At some point, you have to have a certain level of respect for yourself that wouldn’t even allow you to be with someone after they’ve betrayed you/cheated on you/constantly lied to you/disregarded you/abused you/whatever he did that made you feel like shit. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Happiness is not something you should have to wait for. Happiness is not a privilege or a goal. Even if at the end of all the shitty days the sun does come out; how worth it was the journey?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-667980204108521656?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/667980204108521656/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/07/waiting-game.html#comment-form' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/667980204108521656'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/667980204108521656'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/07/waiting-game.html' title='The Waiting Game?'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TDZI853-cfI/AAAAAAAAAG0/MVvpBBOtSeQ/s72-c/girl+w+clock.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-5959321749326181361</id><published>2010-07-06T12:11:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-07-06T12:11:56.807-07:00</updated><title type='text'>When The Cat's Away...</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TDN-4lsFR4I/AAAAAAAAAGc/cjqXEg87Q7c/s1600/cavorting-mice.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="196" rw="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TDN-4lsFR4I/AAAAAAAAAGc/cjqXEg87Q7c/s320/cavorting-mice.jpg" width="320" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I had a really funny conversation with a friend the other day. Her boyfriend was going out of town for the weekend and she was “upset” at him for leaving because she wasn’t sure she could be faithful to him while he was away. For the weekend! Lol. While part of her was joking, another part of her was dead serious. I believe jokes are 95% truth and 5% “joke”; that’s what makes them funny because it comes from a real place. Half of the time, jokes are just the diversion of saying what you really want to say with less fear of the reaction. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she really felt “damn, I want to do something that may break the code of my relationship” and honestly people do it all of the time. When the cat is away, the mice will play! I wonder what it is that makes people go crazy: a taste of freedom; the breaking up of the relationship monotony. Could it be that these people just really don’t want to be in their relationship that much that when they get away they feel like they’re gasping for air? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haven’t been in a “relationship” in a long time, and at the time, I was NOT ready for it, so my judgment could be off. I just look at things like A or B. If you realllly want something, you wouldn’t do anything to ruin it right? Like I can see how loving someone isn’t enough to keep you from cheating. Not because love isn’t real or anything, but because it's (well whatever) I don’t really know what “love” is in written form. However, if you WANT the person that you are with, there are just things you would not do for the simple fact that you have noooo desire to do it. For example, there were some not-so-faithful things I’ve done to boyfriends, that I had no desire to do to other boyfriends or even with my non-relationship boos. Wanting them was enough to have blinders on from the rest of the world because all I saw was them and I didn’t want anyone else. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So if you’re in this relationship that you kinda don’t want to be in (all the way), you do realize that it’ll only get worse? If you have to “get used” to someone or feel like “eventually “…you’re going to do a lot of messing up along the way that could just completely ruin the whole relationship. I had to realize that sometimes even if you want something a little bit, A LITTLE IS NOT ENOUGH! Honestly, it’s just not enough. If you’re gonna to be with someone, be with them all the way, both feet in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Btw: This also goes for the girls in the gray area (see “All Gray Everything” post), sometimes you’re gray for a reason. Not being ready, you or him, just never really ends well....but don’t trust me, trust the divorce rate!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-5959321749326181361?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/5959321749326181361/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/07/when-cats-away.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/5959321749326181361'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/5959321749326181361'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/07/when-cats-away.html' title='When The Cat&apos;s Away...'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TDN-4lsFR4I/AAAAAAAAAGc/cjqXEg87Q7c/s72-c/cavorting-mice.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-3184918465537406747</id><published>2010-06-16T00:03:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-10-08T07:33:05.791-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Another Reason Why I Love Erykah Badu</title><content type='html'>&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: 'Lucida Grande'; font-size: small;"&gt;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 11px;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TBh3JWyGdZI/AAAAAAAAAGU/WvVULqxR5Mg/s1600/ErykahBadu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="310" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TBh3JWyGdZI/AAAAAAAAAGU/WvVULqxR5Mg/s400/ErykahBadu.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;While flying from New York to L.A to help curb my serious ADD, I brought along my ipod, my Macbook, and what would turn out to be the most valuable; the June/July issue of Vibe Magazine with Erykah Badu on the cover. Reading through the article that discussed her life, career, and the controversy surrounding her “Window Seat” video, I was hit with a GEM of knowledge regarding her view on her relationships, mainly their endings. I stared at the page, my mouth a bit open, as I re-read the line over and over. It was genius. It was God-like. It was...a hard pill to swallow! When discussing her quite famous relationships (Common, Andre 3000, and now Jay Electronica) she says this:&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;“I love being partnered with people who want to evolve as human beings. At the point where their growth does not include me, then we break up, then we move on. I write about it.”&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;WTF!!! This quote is amazing to me for sooo many reasons and I hope you can see the power in it. Relationships and the people in our lives are there for a means of growth; learning lessons. While a relationship consists of two people ideally growing in the same direction, if growing at all, sometimes one person decides to make a left turn. In this she didn't say, “At the point where their growth doesn't include me...I wild' out...I curse them out...scratch up their car...throw mud on their name: NO!!! You just break up and you move on. Her release is writing (Get a hobby!).&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;While I did not expect Erykah Badu of all people to act like a psycho during a break up, I did think the process was more difficult for her, from songs like “Green Eyes” and my latest fave “Out My Mind...” I kinda expected her to discuss the pain or the disappointment of failed relationships, but she didn't. She didn't say “He did me wrong,” she acknowledged said ex's growth that just didn't include her, and it was okay. In the time of the “Bitter Black Woman” its refreshing to see a more Buddhist-like approach of non-attachment regarding relationships (I've been studying Buddhist philosophy for about 2 years. Interesting stuff.) But anyway...&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;There is a power in thinking that way. Yes, it is okay to feel hurt or disappointed in an outcome being something other than what you may have desired, but at the end of the day, it's not about you. If someone doesn't want to be in a relationship with you (or stay in one), that is just the direction they want for &lt;i&gt;their&lt;/i&gt; life. It's easy to feel cheated or angry at someone for not thinking you are the greatest thing that ever happened to them, but maybe, there's a chance that you aren't! And what you saw in them that makes you angry for them leaving, can be greater in another person. &lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;The desire for constant evolution in love and in life is what gets me through most of my &lt;i&gt;minor &lt;/i&gt;&lt;span style="font-style: normal;"&gt;setbacks. I just want to be a better friend, a better lover, and all-in-all a better person. This article really solidified what this dating thing is all about, or should be all about: Growth.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div style="margin-bottom: 0in;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-3184918465537406747?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/3184918465537406747/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/06/another-reason-why-i-love-erykah-badu.html#comment-form' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/3184918465537406747'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/3184918465537406747'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/06/another-reason-why-i-love-erykah-badu.html' title='Another Reason Why I Love Erykah Badu'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TBh3JWyGdZI/AAAAAAAAAGU/WvVULqxR5Mg/s72-c/ErykahBadu.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-1816648791948964683</id><published>2010-06-07T07:23:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-06-07T07:27:11.143-07:00</updated><title type='text'>500 Days of Bummer!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TAz9z-7cBJI/AAAAAAAAAGM/OJOxrrz3jXw/s1600/five_hundred_days_of_summer1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" qu="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TAz9z-7cBJI/AAAAAAAAAGM/OJOxrrz3jXw/s400/five_hundred_days_of_summer1.jpg" width="260" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Have you ever seen the movie "500 Days of Summer?" Awesome right?! It was such a good story and relatable, but throughout the movie I found myself picking sides of Team Tom or Team (that bitch) Summer. Needless to say who's side I was on. If you haven't seen it, the premise is a boy falls in love with a girl, who in my opinion, kinda lead him on. She's one of those "I don't believe in love and relationships blah blah blah"...but by the end of the movie she was engaged to some stranger and invited my poor Tom to the frickin engagement party unbeknowest to him! Little bitch!!!&amp;nbsp; Ughhh. I'm sorry I like HATED Summer. Maybe because I'm a bit bitter over being the Tom in a relationship, where I was the one left hanging on (but my "Summer" would disagree regarding our roles). Ironically, someone told me that I reminded them of Summer! I guess it's all about perception huh? Anyway, Tom spent most of the 500 days trying to get over his relationship with Summer than he actually spent IN the relationship! Bummer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So lately the theme of my dating life and seemingly all of my close friends is "Getting Over It." Relationships (and non-relationships) end. Get over it! Sometimes you can be the Tom in the relationship: The person who misses the other, while they are out getting engaged and moving on with their lives. Or you can be the Summer, the person who found something that they never knew they wanted and ended up hurting someone in the process. Honestly, I've spent time being both Tom and Summer and neither side is really cool. I don't want to break the heart, but I also don't want to get mine broken. I have ended things with guys that were really into me, and been rejected by guys that I was really into (seems impossible that someone would reject me right? Lol). Point is, it's life Tom! I mean, how happy would have Tom been if Summer just went along with it, when really she didn't want to be there? Not very happy! Eventually, there would be another roadblock. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In all honesty, MOST relationships, are just not meant to be. Summer won't last always. Seasons change. Get over it!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-1816648791948964683?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/1816648791948964683/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/06/500-days-of-bummer.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/1816648791948964683'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/1816648791948964683'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/06/500-days-of-bummer.html' title='500 Days of Bummer!!!'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/TAz9z-7cBJI/AAAAAAAAAGM/OJOxrrz3jXw/s72-c/five_hundred_days_of_summer1.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-2221417140371329712</id><published>2010-05-17T20:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-17T20:14:38.809-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Wrong Guy</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S_IFBCPWsII/AAAAAAAAAGE/3PrX4T6esoU/s1600/lineup-717775.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="257" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S_IFBCPWsII/AAAAAAAAAGE/3PrX4T6esoU/s400/lineup-717775.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Falling in love can be like a confused person picking his harasser out of a police line-up. You may think you know, but you have no idea. You may even carefully make your choice but there is a great chance that you may choose The Wrong Guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eventually there comes a time where we all will choose The Wrong Guy. Who and what you thought was right becomes so WRONG. Like "WTF did I get myself into" wrong. Sadly, we will all experience the pain that comes along with making the wrong choice in a mate. The person you thought you knew turns out to be completely opposite of what you thought. The person you trusted the most will do some things that will make you never want to trust another person again. The one you love will cheat on you, lie to you, steal from you, abuse you (what happened to you goes here). All of which, will cause you a pain that there is no quick escape from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have had my share of heartache, but each time I am a bit more wise than the time before. Each time I have gained a valuable knowledge that has equipped me for future experiences. I once dated someone who I genuinely thought was my friend and I thought he was the "right" guy. I soon found out just how wrong I was when he began treating me like crap. For the life of me, I just didn't understand how this "friend" could treat me so callously. It took a few months, but eventually I had to let that one go and that was one of the most rewarding experiences (of that year lol). Soon after him, I met someone who was amazing, or so I thought, but now he's turning out to be Mr. Wrong too! Damn. But at the end of the day, knowledge is power and the only way to know is to feel it for yourself. The Wrong Guy can be the best teacher!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't believe in "The One," I think that's some fairytale BS, but I do believe that not every guy will treat you the same as The Wrong Guy. I think just as much as there are jerks there are some great guys, and not every jerk will remain one. In the midst of getting your heart broken by The Wrong Guy, let him be your teacher. One day you will get over the pain and the experience will be priceless, and you'll be one wrong guy away from the The Right Guy!!! Trust.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-2221417140371329712?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/2221417140371329712/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/05/wrong-guy.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/2221417140371329712'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/2221417140371329712'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/05/wrong-guy.html' title='The Wrong Guy'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S_IFBCPWsII/AAAAAAAAAGE/3PrX4T6esoU/s72-c/lineup-717775.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-8676111106636743063</id><published>2010-05-13T12:02:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-13T12:02:17.527-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Signs</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S-xLJt0m2jI/AAAAAAAAAF8/_69JdD1pcpI/s1600/stop.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S-xLJt0m2jI/AAAAAAAAAF8/_69JdD1pcpI/s320/stop.jpg" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Throughout any relationship there are tell-tale signs of the future of said relationship. In most cases, these signs are bad! You know they're bad too, but what do you do? Usually it's one of two things: Ignore or Excuse. SMH. Us poor silly girls (guys too)! Why do we disregard blatant warnings in our relationships? When driving our minds have the ability to decipher signs on the road to keep us out of danger, but our hearts can't seem to do the same. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was once told "I like you, but I think you like me more than I like you." So what did I do? I excused it. Duh! I kinda ignored it too and brushed it off like "Okay yea right," but eventually his lack of "like" became a problem for me. It was okay that he did not like me as much as I liked him, people move at their own pace. What wasn't okay is that I took that pertinent information and treated it as if it wasn't a big deal. Looking back, at the point that he revealed that information, it should have been a sign for me to take our relationship to friend zone and not try to make it work as something more. So much heartache can be avoided if you just listen!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The other night I had an interesting conversation with a male friend regarding his ex-girlfriend. He said he knew all along that it probably wasn't going to work out. He saw the red flags of her wild and irrational behavior, her lack of maturity, yet he stayed and eventually those same issues broke them up. Been there before? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Letting go is hard to do, especially when you like someone, but it's honestly just easier to obey the signs. For women, it is more difficult for us not to end up the casualty of a relationship gone sour, so&amp;nbsp;for protection&amp;nbsp;we're blessed with a very powerful tool: Intuition...USE IT! When you feel something is not right, it probably isn't. When someone shows you who they are, believe them. My personal issue is determining what is&amp;nbsp;a real sign from a perceived sign.&amp;nbsp;Sometimes we confuse "signs",&amp;nbsp; for just our own insecurity or fear, which is equally as dangerous. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I guess the point is to just nip it in the bud when you know you need to. Even if you wouldn't say it out loud or admit to your friends, there comes a time where on the inside you just know. A gut feeling they call it...go with that =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-8676111106636743063?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/8676111106636743063/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/05/signs.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/8676111106636743063'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/8676111106636743063'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/05/signs.html' title='The Signs'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S-xLJt0m2jI/AAAAAAAAAF8/_69JdD1pcpI/s72-c/stop.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-1206882937048528116</id><published>2010-05-04T09:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-05-04T09:26:27.553-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Friendship: Demotion or Promotion?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S-BIs4afqlI/AAAAAAAAAF0/jRsBy8uV37o/s1600/just-friends.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S-BIs4afqlI/AAAAAAAAAF0/jRsBy8uV37o/s400/just-friends.jpg" tt="true" width="270" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;Friendship. It's funny how this one word can mean so many different things when shared between the opposite sex. "We're friends" can be a compliment, but can also be a slap in the face.&amp;nbsp;A relationship can go from two people getting to know one another&amp;nbsp;to being in the "friend zone" faster than you can spell it. What happens when what was once more becomes...friends? Is friendship (esp. after "love") a promotion to explore deeper waters or a demotion to Nothing-ville? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think the bigger issue is we don't really take the time to be friends before we are lovers, so in skipping a few steps you'd eventually trip somewhere along the way. Being just friends&amp;nbsp;can be reallly&amp;nbsp;hard to do, especially if when you see him you just want to rip his clothes off and......(sigh) you get the point. Being friends seems like something you shouldn't do when two people like one another. Friendship is what happens when one person isn't attracted to the other. Friendship is the default relationship!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But, what if over time our generation just got it all wrong? Our grandfathers courted our grandmothers, our fathers dated our mothers, and we're just f-cking eachother! Can both love and lust exist in the same space? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of my friends told me today regarding her ex-boyfriend "When you are in love with someone you can't be their friend," but love and friendship should be synonymous right? While friendship is often abused and used as an excuse especially for a guy to avoid settling down...being real friends should be celebrated. Over time serious relationships&amp;nbsp;(and non-relationships)&amp;nbsp;will change: there will be newness, boredom, constant sex, or no sex at all, but if&amp;nbsp;there is a real friendship there it is surviving. Would you want someone to be more-than-friends with you if they really didn't want to?&amp;nbsp; I'd rather be a default friend than a default girlfriend any day!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In dating, especially as a girl, it's hard not to be distracted by time. "We've been dating for a year," "We broke up 3 years ago," "We've been friends for 2 months..." SOOOO WHAT LADY!!! While time can be important, it really is not&amp;nbsp;THAT important. What does time really even say besides how long you have known someone? If the timing isn't right, it just isn't right. There's no shortcut, no time-machine, no handbook...just life. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Real friendship is always always a promotion. Whether it's a promotion to a deeper relationship with the one now, or a promotion to meet someone else. The only true demotion is not seeking growth in life (and love) changes.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-1206882937048528116?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/1206882937048528116/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/05/friendship-demotion-or-promotion.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/1206882937048528116'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/1206882937048528116'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/05/friendship-demotion-or-promotion.html' title='Friendship: Demotion or Promotion?'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S-BIs4afqlI/AAAAAAAAAF0/jRsBy8uV37o/s72-c/just-friends.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-1060923656439770945</id><published>2010-04-26T09:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-28T19:51:09.023-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Raise Your Hand If You're Sure!!!</title><content type='html'>&amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp; &amp;nbsp;&amp;nbsp;&lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif; font-size: 12px; white-space: pre;"&gt;&lt;object height="385" width="480"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/-gKQ8paZ8Lc&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/-gKQ8paZ8Lc&amp;amp;hl=en_US&amp;amp;fs=1&amp;amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;amp;color2=0xe87a9f" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Remember the Sure commercial? This commercial seemed to come on every five minutes as a kid, and was often a punchline in a funky underarms joke. While this is an extremely corny commerical, the command is so powerful. "Raise your hand if you're sure!" Not the confidence of whether you used deodorant this morning, but the confidence you have in your relationship, your decisions, and your desires. Are you really sure?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Between my own Whitley/Dwayne-ish situation and my friends constant and confusing "love" woes: We all seem to have our hands&amp;nbsp;DOWN in the "Sure" department. &lt;em&gt;He's on the fence. She's pulling away. He thinks he's still in love with his ex. She's having sex with her ex. He's not ready to settle down.&lt;/em&gt; Blah, blah, blah!!! My life is full of uncertainty and not just of my own: It's my friends that are the trouble makers!!! Jk ;)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dating is all about taking risks and making decisions. While the process&amp;nbsp;can be&amp;nbsp;difficult, at some point, you have to raise your hand! How long can you go on being unsure, teetering the fence, flip-flopping (c. George Bush) on the issues? Honestly, once a firm decision is made, that's when things seem to just work out naturally. I&amp;nbsp;think we&amp;nbsp;(girls and guys)&amp;nbsp;over-think way too much when it comes to our feelings. Everyone is trying to protect their heart and their pride, which is wise, but not very fulfilling. I do not want to get hurt: Period! At the same time, what am I going to do, not date because there is that looming possibility? How many times have you missed out on an opportunity because you didn't make up your mind in time? Maybe that was more of a guy question because they are the WORST when it comes to solid decision-making, but I digress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ask yourself: Do you really know what you want? Second, why do you feel that way? I try to remember to always ask myself those questions in any situation where I have to make a choice. I don't like being undecided, and it doesn't feel great when someone is undecided&amp;nbsp;about&amp;nbsp;me. Life is about living not over-thinking. Once you get past the thought-process, there's a whole world of unknown sureness that can be so rewarding!!! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I&amp;nbsp;desperately need&amp;nbsp;to cross over to the other side, the "Sure" side because being unsure is no fun!!! Sigh.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-1060923656439770945?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/1060923656439770945/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/raise-your-hand-if-youre-sure.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/1060923656439770945'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/1060923656439770945'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/raise-your-hand-if-youre-sure.html' title='Raise Your Hand If You&apos;re Sure!!!'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-634778156103633548</id><published>2010-04-22T18:33:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-22T18:51:52.652-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Whitley/Dwayne Theory</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S9D84DnAQoI/AAAAAAAAAFs/p6-cNDUJLR4/s1600/dwayne-wayne-whitley.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S9D84DnAQoI/AAAAAAAAAFs/p6-cNDUJLR4/s400/dwayne-wayne-whitley.jpg" width="348" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever since TV One (bless their hearts) have added "A Different World" to their line-up, I have been watching the show almost obsessively. The most recent episodes have been chronicling Whitley and Dwayne's relationship post-break up and the end of their engagement. Whitley and Dwayne's relationship is&amp;nbsp;hilarious, passionate,&amp;nbsp;and&amp;nbsp;disguistingly relatable!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy meets Girl. They date. Fall in love. Break-up. Get back together. Break up again. Get back together (again) repeat, repeat, repeat! Ahh, the&amp;nbsp;beloved "Make Up to Break Up" relationship!!! Full of love, but dramatic. Comfortable, but not consistent. A long game of "Can't be together-but can't stay Away!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I love these kind of relationships! They may not always be healthy, but they're so effing&amp;nbsp;exciting! When it's good, its soooo good, but when it's bad...IT'S BAD! The bonus of such relationships is amazing sex &amp;nbsp;and if you're fighting, but not having crazy sex, why are you even together!?!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Frankly, I enjoy the fighting process. At first you're mad and you hate him. You dog him to your friends. Call him broke. Delete him off your bbm. Then after about a week, you're sad because you miss him. You re-read old texts, look at old pictures, drive pass his house (I would never). Then, one day he calls or texts, you both flirt, then BAM...you're back on! How fun is that!? Maybe a little crazy, but more exciting than hanging out everyday with no spark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Monogamy can be monotony, and drama (in moderation) is fuel for the fire and desire. If two people never fight, I doubt there are any real feelings there. Relationship drama is healthy when the drama isn't what keeps you together. The issue so many girls have is knowing when your "Break up to Make Up" relationship is just broken and unfixable. Grown women know when it is just time to walk away. If you have more sad days than happy days with your man: Take a hint!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Otherwise, make up (over and over and over again) but WRAP IT UP!!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-634778156103633548?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/634778156103633548/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/whitleydwayne-theory.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/634778156103633548'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/634778156103633548'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/whitleydwayne-theory.html' title='The Whitley/Dwayne Theory'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S9D84DnAQoI/AAAAAAAAAFs/p6-cNDUJLR4/s72-c/dwayne-wayne-whitley.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-4903677367823285321</id><published>2010-04-15T14:25:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-15T14:26:17.418-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Beat it, Kid!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8d-bIasawI/AAAAAAAAAFU/BYg-hH3vbZs/s1600/breakup.bmp" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="308" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8d-bIasawI/AAAAAAAAAFU/BYg-hH3vbZs/s400/breakup.bmp" width="400" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I haaaate Break-Ups! Something about two people packing up and going their separate ways is sooo sad. I mean, weren't you friends? What about the good times? What about the baby!? Seriously, deep down inside I still want Nick and Jessica (Simpson) to get back together! That's sad!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Honestly, break-ups are the most important part of dating and relationships.&amp;nbsp;As the saying goes:&amp;nbsp;You learn more from failure than success. That same theory can be applied to "love." When you're happy in love and going through the motions, you're not learning crap; you're basically just enjoying the feelings. Now, remember the first time or even the last time you got your heart broken? Think for a second about how it felt....not fun right, but I'm sure you learned something from it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Breaking up, whether painful or liberating,&amp;nbsp;is just a basic part of&amp;nbsp;becoming an adult.&amp;nbsp;If you never broke up with your boyfriend from the 3rd grade, imagine how lame your life would be now? If you never broke up with your ex, you'd never have met the&amp;nbsp;person you're&amp;nbsp;with now or&amp;nbsp;who you'll be with next.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have&amp;nbsp;experienced majority&amp;nbsp;of my growth as a woman in the F'd up times of my dating life. I have learned very serious lessons that have saved me from or gotten me out of situations much quicker than if I did not have those experiences at all. I have dated jerks that at the time, thought were great, then broke up and met someone that made me say "WTF was I doing with him?" Break-ups teach you more about yourself and what you want from another person, much more than being "in love."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As women, we need to be mindful (even when you're in love) that the most important relationship is the one we have with ourselves! The guys you date are basically stops on the road, and if&amp;nbsp;HE'S lucky, he can be the last stop. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Chill out. Enjoy dating, but even more, enjoy breaking up.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-4903677367823285321?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/4903677367823285321/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/beat-it-kid.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/4903677367823285321'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/4903677367823285321'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/beat-it-kid.html' title='Beat it, Kid!'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8d-bIasawI/AAAAAAAAAFU/BYg-hH3vbZs/s72-c/breakup.bmp' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-3142179311742292288</id><published>2010-04-13T15:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-13T15:30:15.660-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Marking Your Territory: His Facebook Wall?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TrfTlFANI/AAAAAAAAAEs/la_hYM0QAIA/s1600/aa-woman-computer-on-bed.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="295" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TrfTlFANI/AAAAAAAAAEs/la_hYM0QAIA/s400/aa-woman-computer-on-bed.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ever leave earrings, tampons, a hair tie, (HELL...A THONG) at your man's place just in case another female visits, she will know you exist? This is what is called &lt;i&gt;Marking Your Territory. &lt;/i&gt;In other words, &amp;nbsp;leaving subtle and sometimes even bold signs that you are the woman in a particular man's life. This act is a little questionable in my opinion, but I will not address any of that foolery today. Instead, this post is about the girls who abuse the hell out of a man's facebook wall...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, we get it!!! He's your man! Ya'll are "talking!" You KNOW him! Point taken!" Is it really necessary to share private messages with all of his 1,200 friends? &lt;b&gt;"Hey baby. So happy you came over last night. I can't wait to see you tonight. Love you."&lt;/b&gt;&amp;nbsp;For real?! &amp;nbsp;Don't you have his phone number...his email!?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just don't believe that it is a true sign of confidence nor comfort in your relationship, if you &lt;i&gt;constantly&lt;/i&gt; feel the need to do things like that. If he makes you feel that insecure regarding your place in relation to other women, then why are you with him? One should feel especially foolish when his relationship status says that he is single!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I "just so happened" (purposely) to be on a friend's (ex) page, where I saw a girl who I have seen write on his wall before, leave one of her infamous, attention-seeking messages. I don't know the (true) relationship he and her share, but she writes on his wall like every other day. From just one glance, you see her face like 5 times! Like seriously, why are you doing this?! His relationship status is single. Her page is open and from my small investigation, he doesn't seem to respond much (at least not on her wall), so when does the madness end? SMH.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I admit, sometimes little Facebook messages can be cute when it is a surprise. You just so happen to wanna share a joke or write a smiley face or something. However, when it is daily, it screams desperate and an extreme lack of confidence in your relationship. If you don't actually have a serious relationship with this person you just look like a stalker.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But seriously, ya'll know I'm right. If you are guilty of marking your territory, especially through social networking, really think about why you do it and what that says about your relationship. More importantly, what does that behavior say about you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;i&gt;PS: The fact that the guy is my ex doesn't matter. Mind ya business&lt;/i&gt; =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-3142179311742292288?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/3142179311742292288/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/marking-your-territory-his-facebook.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/3142179311742292288'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/3142179311742292288'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/marking-your-territory-his-facebook.html' title='Marking Your Territory: His Facebook Wall?'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TrfTlFANI/AAAAAAAAAEs/la_hYM0QAIA/s72-c/aa-woman-computer-on-bed.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-4587226695434461068</id><published>2010-04-09T09:32:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-09T09:36:09.596-07:00</updated><title type='text'>The Silver Platter</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S79VDrQAp8I/AAAAAAAAAEk/dV1vIIafIeE/s1600/second-place-award.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S79VDrQAp8I/AAAAAAAAAEk/dV1vIIafIeE/s400/second-place-award.jpg" width="285" wt="true" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;I know of a woman who is 40 years old, beautiful, has 2 children, and has been with the same man for almost 20 years. He has never married her!!! They live together and act as a family with the exception of the Big C (commitment) that is missing from their relationship. SMH! He has had &lt;em&gt;many&lt;/em&gt; girlfriends outside of his relationship with her, yet, she considers herself to be "wifey." Sad right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When asked why she would stay in this relationship, she replied "I would rather eat off of a silver platter, than to eat off the floor." WHAAAAAAT?!?!!?!?! Ok, so having half&amp;nbsp; (sometimes less) of what you want from a person is better than having nothing at all? This woman is the definition of settling! While she is an extreme case, we all have been guilty of accepting the 2nd place trophy. Whether you're the "side chick" or the "wifey" with no commitment: You are settling. Sometimes it's not even to another woman, but something that serves as a hindrance to your relationship because he values it way more than you. Sometimes that thing can be a career, sometimes it's his fears, or his friends; either way, you my dear are settling. The&amp;nbsp;only case when you are not settling, is when you really, honestly and truly,&amp;nbsp;don't want more, but as women WE ALWAYS WANT MORE.&amp;nbsp;Don't play yourself: You know you do!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am not a "I need to be in a relationship" kind of girl. I actually try to avoid commitment for as long as I can,&amp;nbsp;yet I have learned through trial-and-error&amp;nbsp;that I am not 100% happy in relationships where there isn't a commitment.&amp;nbsp;That's so oxy-moronic, but life, especially "love" is exactly that way. It doesn't make sense, but it is a real feeling. I've&amp;nbsp;been in non-committed relationships where I tried to convince myself that it was enough, but more and more I realized that it just wasn't.&amp;nbsp;No one aspires to be 2nd place! No athlete says "I want to be the 2nd best player in the league!" What kind of goal is that!? It is human nature to want the top spot, so why do we accept anything that isn't?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I bet Ms. Silver Platter wanted to be a wife. I bet she wanted to feel the love she gave to him&amp;nbsp;in return. I bet she wanted something real and meaningful, but somehow she&amp;nbsp;got stuck being the babymother/roommate. It is easy to look at her and call her a fool, but ask yourself are&amp;nbsp;YOU in the running to be a permanent 2nd-placer? Even if it's not a relationship that you are in now, but a mindset that you have that says you can be happy getting half of what you want. It may feel good for a while, but you will always always want more. So, why are you settling?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-4587226695434461068?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/4587226695434461068/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/silver-platter.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/4587226695434461068'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/4587226695434461068'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/silver-platter.html' title='The Silver Platter'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S79VDrQAp8I/AAAAAAAAAEk/dV1vIIafIeE/s72-c/second-place-award.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-9196434743591163104</id><published>2010-04-05T19:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-05T20:08:00.827-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Don't Be The Popeye's Chicken Lady!!!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S7qZRu3csLI/AAAAAAAAADw/fBjjvpRY_os/s1600/popeyesLogoLG2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="175" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S7qZRu3csLI/AAAAAAAAADw/fBjjvpRY_os/s400/popeyesLogoLG2.jpg" width="400" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know by now you all have seen/heard those dreadful Popeye's Chicken commercials with someone's &lt;span class="Apple-style-span" style="text-decoration: line-through;"&gt;&lt;i&gt;country&lt;/i&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&amp;nbsp;Auntie exclaiming about how great her chicken is. "Ooh chile' we got seeznins, mouth-watering grease (blah blah blah)...we got the best bonafide chicken around!!!" I shed a single tear every time I hear her voice, and not just because of the coonery of her chicken-selling, but the mere fact of over-hyping her product.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Girls, please don't be the Popeye's Chicken lady convincing the consumer (a man) of how great you are by running down a list of why you're great! Let the product (your actions) speak for itself. This approach never ever ever works and why would it! Basically, you set yourself up for these over-the-top expectations of who you will be in a relationship and you'll always be competing with yourself to be consistent with your &lt;i&gt;"Im the bomb, this is why" &lt;/i&gt;list. Then, he'll be so turned off by you being your own hype man, that eventually both your words and actions will mean very little to him. Unfortunately, I know!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had a bad habit, mostly in or after a fight, where I would do a run-down of "Im smart, Im pretty, I did this for you, I did that" Yeaaa, that didn't work out too well. I basically de-valued my future good deeds by being such a bitch and throwing my so-called "greatness" in someone's face.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At the end of the day, if you are really all these great things, words would never do them justice: just show it! Being your own hype man basically translates into "Hey, Im really insecure so I have to say this to not only convince you, but myself too." Don't be insecure.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing is sexier than silent confidence =)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-9196434743591163104?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/9196434743591163104/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/dont-be-popeyes-chicken-lady.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/9196434743591163104'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/9196434743591163104'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/dont-be-popeyes-chicken-lady.html' title='Don&apos;t Be The Popeye&apos;s Chicken Lady!!!'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S7qZRu3csLI/AAAAAAAAADw/fBjjvpRY_os/s72-c/popeyesLogoLG2.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-1645325357057663716</id><published>2010-04-03T08:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-03T16:05:07.564-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Double Dipping</title><content type='html'>&lt;object height="340" width="560"&gt;&lt;param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/YWuSi00CcNk&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;color2=0xe87a9f"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"&gt;&lt;/param&gt;&lt;embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/YWuSi00CcNk&amp;hl=en_US&amp;fs=1&amp;color1=0xcc2550&amp;color2=0xe87a9f" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="560" height="340"&gt;&lt;/embed&gt;&lt;/object&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take one dip and end it?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it possible to date someone from your past and get it right the second time around, or would you just be bringing back the old bacteria from before that caused the split in the first place? There's a book I read a few years ago (don't laugh), "Its Called A Breakup Because It's Broken" written by the same guy who wrote "He's Just Not That Into You." The book highlights moving on from relationships that did not work for the simple fact that THEY DID NOT WORK! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I believe there are&amp;nbsp;two factors: timing and desire (in my case boredom) that work together to get the best results in a relationship, and if one of those things are off, it could leave the relationship ending in a "let's just be friends"&amp;nbsp;conversation. I have lotssss of those! I am friends with almost every ex-boyfriend, ex-boo, ex-whatever, I have had since the 8th grade! I am like a collector of...boys (ugh). It's not that I have an issue with letting go, they just don't seem to ever really leave. Most of them, the thought of&amp;nbsp;getting back together is&amp;nbsp;beyond laughable, but then there is a very small few, the most recent of course that I feel &lt;em&gt;maybe&lt;/em&gt; about. &lt;em&gt;Maybe &lt;/em&gt;it wouldn't be such a bad idea, it's comfortable, we're friends, we still like eachother, it's not long distance anymore, he's happier at his job, he broke up with his girl (insert your reason here)...hmmmmmm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Think about it. Why did it end in the first place? Even if it was a silly reason at the time, there was a core and real reason why the silly thing made one or both people decide that not being together was the&amp;nbsp;BETTER option. While the ego is motivated by "you're gonna want me back," if and when that relationship re-visit becomes an option, how successful could it possibly be? If it didn't work out the first time are you really just biding your time before it won't work out again? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anything is possible. I am not a love-hater. I think if two people really love eachother and are on the same accord with what they want, a better relationship could be the result. Look at J.Lo and Marc Anthony. She dated him before Diddy and now they are married with two ok-looking children (sorry I'm real). So that's one couple...but for every one of those there are many more that just don't work, no matter how many rides.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I personally would rather just meet someone new, but still I ponder if the small desire of another taste is worth the germs of double dipping????&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thoughts?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-1645325357057663716?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/1645325357057663716/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/double-dipping.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/1645325357057663716'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/1645325357057663716'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/double-dipping.html' title='Double Dipping'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-438705863736477960</id><published>2010-04-02T04:14:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T04:19:43.139-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Oops! Did I Do That?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S7XSwfgoJUI/AAAAAAAAADA/i2s01KG1w2A/s1600/noisettes-wild-young-hearts-466780.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S7XSwfgoJUI/AAAAAAAAADA/i2s01KG1w2A/s320/noisettes-wild-young-hearts-466780.jpg" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QwE8Gudcgv0"&gt;The Noisettes-Young Wild Hearts&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I'm not what I was last summer, Not who I was in the Spring"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Change is inevitable. In the process you will make many many (many) mistakes....and its okay. You'll grow!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-438705863736477960?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/438705863736477960/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/oops.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/438705863736477960'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/438705863736477960'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/oops.html' title='Oops! Did I Do That?'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S7XSwfgoJUI/AAAAAAAAADA/i2s01KG1w2A/s72-c/noisettes-wild-young-hearts-466780.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-8854017039933079185</id><published>2010-04-01T23:13:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-02T06:29:32.477-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Can You Pay My Bills?</title><content type='html'>&lt;span id="goog_786891796"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;span id="goog_786891797"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S7WMvWKCSSI/AAAAAAAAAC4/6n5xfDjKyDw/s1600/empty-pockets.JPG.jpeg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="400" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S7WMvWKCSSI/AAAAAAAAAC4/6n5xfDjKyDw/s400/empty-pockets.JPG.jpeg" width="268" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Face it, we're in a recession, dates can be expensive but damn if I have to split the bill with you on our first date! Only a boy would do this because a grown man would never ask a woman out if he could not afford to do just that. A grown man would rather not see you for weeks if his money isn't right than to play a game of "You ordered this, I ordered that" when the check is placed on the table. C'MON SON! My meal was $15 AND you're going to penalize me for ordering Iced Tea instead of getting water with lemon?!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you are ever in this situation, in which is bound to happen, especially if you live in New York, don't even bother arguing with the brother embarrassing yourself at Cafeteria. Pay your half and kindly never speak to his ass again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;And please please pleeease don't have sex with him after the date (or the 2nd date from not learning your lesson the first time)...honestly you should have been turned off :/&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-8854017039933079185?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/8854017039933079185/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/can-you-pay-my-bills.html#comment-form' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/8854017039933079185'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/8854017039933079185'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/can-you-pay-my-bills.html' title='Can You Pay My Bills?'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S7WMvWKCSSI/AAAAAAAAAC4/6n5xfDjKyDw/s72-c/empty-pockets.JPG.jpeg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-3287063909556839787</id><published>2010-04-01T22:41:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T23:26:23.520-07:00</updated><title type='text'>All Gray Everything?!</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S7WEpYnIG8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/hXHmwrYWoEo/s1600/300px-Color_icon_gray.svg.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S7WEpYnIG8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/hXHmwrYWoEo/s320/300px-Color_icon_gray.svg.png" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;In the age of pseudo-relationships where the non-committed have mocking labels such as "cuddy-buddies" and "friends with benefits," what makes one sure of what their relationship really is or where it is going? Not black, not quite white, but a gray situation of two people who could be more, but may be less. Often, it is so awkward to ask that looming question "What are we?" especially for women who don't want to seem clingy. You go with the flow and then you realize months or even years go by and you have no clue WTF this is!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The dreadful gray area. Sigh. It seems a girl can get caught in this before she even knows what happened and sadly, the gray area is relationship quick sand. He's not your boyfriend, but way more than a regular friend. You don't care if a regular friend returns your calls, or take you out because you haven't seen a movie in a while. You don't blow your regular friend's phone up at 2am with drunk angry rants, do you? Noooo those embarrassing episodes that leave you tweeting your frustrations out are saved for someone you think is special. Special?! Special is something that is distinct, like hot pink or Iphones, but gray...gray isn't special at all. Gray is so blah. Gray gets boring. Gray doesn't really stand out. Gray eventually fades to something even more...gray.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But hey, maybe I'm pessimistic or seen one too many gray-fairy tales. Gray matter may just in fact develop color one day, but I wouldn't bet on it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-3287063909556839787?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/3287063909556839787/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/all-gray-everything.html#comment-form' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/3287063909556839787'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/3287063909556839787'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/all-gray-everything.html' title='All Gray Everything?!'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S7WEpYnIG8I/AAAAAAAAACQ/hXHmwrYWoEo/s72-c/300px-Color_icon_gray.svg.png' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-891342778103348872.post-8332142400404304326</id><published>2010-04-01T19:19:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2010-04-01T20:00:01.248-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What Is A Pretty Girl?</title><content type='html'>&lt;div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"&gt;&lt;a href="http://i271.photobucket.com/albums/jj154/thegirlslol2/pageant.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"&gt;&lt;img border="0" height="320" src="http://i271.photobucket.com/albums/jj154/thegirlslol2/pageant.jpg" width="256" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/div&gt;A pretty girl eh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;According to the Urban Dictionary (I love this btw) a pretty girl is "a very attractive girl, often found at Keg parties, that all males cannot help but hit on because of her immense beauty."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The word "pretty" can mean very different things to different people, especially between men and women. To be obvious, it describes usually a girl, unless you're a Kappa (and even that is debatable) that is nice on the eyes. In a world full of "Barbies" and "Bad Bitches" just about every woman and girl thinks she is pretty which is fine by me, Im no judger! Truthfully, SOMEONE finds even the most, let's say "not-so-cute" girl, at least moderately pretty, therefore every girl can be called a "Pretty Girl."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;These pretty girls date, fall in love, get bored, break-up, get hurt, break hearts, cry, laugh, stalk guys on social networks, move on, but NEVER do they get "dumped." Granted relationships end and sometimes against the will of the pretty girl, but only trash (old papers, banana peels, etc) gets dumped, never a pretty girl! We merely just experience the lessons of love and dating, which in the end, there's no clear winner or loser, right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"After all, computers crash, people die, relationships fall apart. The best we can do is breath and reboot." (c) Carrie Bradshaw&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/891342778103348872-8332142400404304326?l=prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/feeds/8332142400404304326/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/what-is-pretty-girl.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/8332142400404304326'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/891342778103348872/posts/default/8332142400404304326'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://prettygirlsdontgetdumped.blogspot.com/2010/04/what-is-pretty-girl.html' title='What Is A Pretty Girl?'/><author><name>Di Marie</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/08814859045961861310</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='24' src='http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_yXT9-FolIFk/S8TvKJfsUwI/AAAAAAAAAE0/vQIstO4lTXk/S220/Photo+50.jpg'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
