Cindy vs. Valentine's Day

Oh, Valentine’s Day… I’m assuming you are expecting me to bash today or have some bloggers melt down about consumerism, being alone, and chocolate forced upon me just after losing Christmas weight. We’ll you are wrong. I don’t hate the holiday. I’m fine with it. In fact, I wandered happily down memory lane just this afternoon to 3rd grade. I was set. I had the perfect NKOTB valentines and my class list in hand. Sprawled out on my bedroom floor, I categorized the “BFF Happy Valentines Day!” for my favorite friends; “Let's Hit the Street for some Valentine Fun!” for anyone I didn’t care about; and carefully removed the “You’ve Got the Cute Stuff” cards to avoid sending the wrong message to any boys I didn’t like in favor of the safer “You Rock Valentine Friend!”. Crucial to my successful navigation of the classroom exchange was also giving the boy I did think was cute the same “friend” card. …. Which leads me to the epiphany that not much has changed. Why do I continue to play the friend card with men I like? Why the need to throw them off the trail or play hard to get? … I don’t have the answer to this one but I’m fairly certain it is still the only way to win at the game of hearts. (how much did you hate that last pun;)

Anyway, I’m off to have Valentine’s Dinner, with my parents Susan Boyle style. (Further proof that I have learned very little since 3rd grade) And before you feel too bad for me, you should know my parents are awesome and I’m topping the night off with wine and some fabulous friends.

PS I had a first date last Thursday and I ate more than him…. end.of.story.

XOXO
Cindy

Worst Person Ever

Red Flag of the Week

Nascar

I could be wrong but I feel like this needs no explanation. If you watch Nascar, you just shouldn't tell anyone. Never have I or any of my friends ever met someone and after hearing him say, "Well, let's see I like to watch Nascar" thought "Yep. Yep. This is the guy for me." The combination of Florida meets ineteresting clientele meets Danica Patrick creates a "sport" that is more likely to give you ring worm than an actual date.

I don't want no scrub

Cindy

**Disclaimer: Red flags are not always deal breakers. They mean to serve as a point in which you should stop and ask yourself, “Does this signify a deeper problem?” Red flags are also limited to things people choose to do, not things in which they have no control over.