It comes in many forms... a job interview, asking that boy to prom in 2010, a DM on Instagram. No matter in what way it comes, rejection sucks regardless if you are giving or receiving. Guys (and sometimes girls) muster up all of this courage to ask you out or ask for your number or tell you you're pretty, and the receiving party is either interested or not. It's that black and white. You either like someone or you don't. You're either into it or you're not. You can't fake feelings and you can't fake a rejection.
Two weird occurrences happened to me last week that I wouldn't quite categorize as rejection, but I wasn't sure how else to include them in a topic. While working one of my many jobs with greeting cards, a young man walked up to me and said excuse me. I work the cards in major stores, so often times people interrupt me to ask me questions like what aisle the soap is in. But this kid looked me dead in the eyeballs and said "I just wanted to tell you you're really pretty", and ran away faster than I could say thank you. I went about my work and suddenly another young man ran up to me, literally picked my cardboard box that I was working out of straight up in the air, and said "I sell boxes, I just wanted to see who makes this," and off he ran too. Puzzled, I just stood there and wondered what was in the stars that day to have two random people come up and say something and then walk away. Did I look like an approachable person to them? These are just two examples of people that put themselves out there, sort of in a weird way, and for whatever personal gain that they needed. Was it validation, excitement, pleasure, who knows. But they put themselves out there and made themselves vulnerable, and I appreciate that.
I've mentioned before that I am all for the female power dynamic in our world. I'm a feminist in the sense where I think women should be more bold, not so much in the sense where men should stop asking fathers for permission to marry their daughter, but that's another story... In 2019, I think it is important for women to put themselves out there to experience the build up and the let down that men have been experiencing for so long. You never know when you will make a bold move and it will actually work out in your favor. And when it doesn't? Well, rejection is a bitch. It's hard to hear someone turn you down, but what we often don't think about is how hard it is to do the rejecting. Why do we feel guilty for being honest and saying "hey, I'm just not that into you". Why is that so hard or even rude to say to someone? Instead, people chicken out and think that ghosting is the answer. Or they come up with some extravagant lie like "I'm not looking right now", when in fact you are, or "I just started talking to someone", when in fact you have not. Why is it so hard to just be honest with people and say that you aren't interested. That their pheromones and your hormones and every other chemical DNA in your bones just doesn't see a thing with that person? Why does it matter! You do NOT need to ever justify yourself or your decisions, but for some reason, we lie. We lie and lie and avoid the truth to "spare" the other person, when in fact you don't owe them that.
Recently, I had someone DM me on Instagram that I honestly was not expecting a message from. It was a sweet message, from someone I had met recently, but I just wasn't that into it. Not for any reason at all; he was hilarious, had an awesome personality, but just wasn't for me. It took me draft after draft to create a message that wasn't rude or bitchy, that let him down gently, and that sort of apologized. (Which now I guess doesn't matter if he's an avid reader and he's reading this guide on my inner thought process). But I was at least honest. I didn't leave him on read and never answer, I didn't lie and say that I'm not looking because this blog is written proof of me waiting on my Prince Charming. I don't have an excuse as to why, it's just not in the stars for me right now. I can't explain it, and honestly, I don't need to. I am who I am and you are who you are, never apologize for that.
The point of it all is this. Rejection is going to happen. To you, because of you, it's going to be a part of your life from now until the day you die. Even when you get lucky enough to find the one and when you start your life with someone, rejection will creep up in one way or another. It is impossible to avoid it. But the important thing to remember is that you can be in control of overcoming it. You can be nicer to someone when you let them down, you can be an adult and choose to express your emotions instead of ghosting someone, you can be a better rejector (unsure if that's a word) to other people. So choose kind words instead, choose expressive and emotional conversation instead, choose to be nice instead. It's 2019. Women hold the power too, women can be equal participators, too. The future is female and the future is making rejection your bitch.
I set out last weekend with one goal in mind: get a good story for the blog. Of course that's how I set out every weekend, but last weekend was special because it was the Polar Bear Plunge. A weekend where a bunch of drunk idiots get plastered at 9am, take off all their clothing, and jump into the freezing cold Atlantic Ocean in the middle of winter, all along the Jersey Shore... and we were no exception (minus the getting half-naked and going swimming part, but definitely the drinking part). Early Saturday morning, we packed into the car like little sober sardines and headed on our way to take part in the festivities. Once we arrived, we wasted no time and dove right into drinking, downing at least four in the first hour we were there.
I would love to sit here and write about some wild story that happened, like I got carried into the ocean by accident or ran into someone I used to have a crush on in high school, but truth be told most of the day is a blur, some is a complete brown out, and the rest was just a plain old blast. We ran around, bar to bar to beach to bar, drinking everything under the sun. I'm pretty sure we drank every type of alcohol on the market, and even scored some free rum pouches from a salesgirl (said pouch is currently soaking the inside of my purse and everything inside). I lost my sunglasses, my eyeliner, and my pride (jk), but man was it a great time. We met up with some friends from Philly, made some new friends, and drank for a consistent 14 hours. I even succeeded at making a pouty-looking guy have a little fun and turned his frown upside-down. It was a wonderful day into night drinking that I can only handle once every few months. I walked home in socks because my feet felt like they were actually going to fall off from wearing heels for more hours than I usually sleep at night and I met a stranger on the street and shared my blog with him (to which he proceeded to read every single entry I've made since May 2018, impressive). I haven't had so much fun dancing and singing with a live band in so long, it was really just a blast. The parts I can remember anyway.
I put in some work with the pouty-face boy who told me that we can't smile all the time but that's just a lie.. Anyone who knows me drunk knows that the smile never leaves my face. I'm pretty smiley sober, imagine when I get some alcohol flowing through my veins. I am a blast when I drink, not to toot my own horn, but I am a really fun time. I never get mean, I rarely drunk cry, I just forget everything that is real in life and dance and drink and have a great time. I forget to take snapchats, I forget to text people back, I'm in the moment and having a blast.
The pouty boy was cute, definitely my type in the way that he was dirty blonde and lately that's been what's good. Once he loosened up he was semi-fun, of course not as much as me, but we worked on it. He danced along and sang so he wasn't a dud on the dance floor, which is always a bonus, and once he did smile it was the BEST smile I've seen on a guy in a hot minute. But other than my observations, I know nothing about him except his name. No clue where he lives, where he's from, just that he was friends with the person we knew from Manayunk. By the time 11:30 rolled around, we'd been drinking since 9 and that point of drinking yourself to sobriety was real. We said our goodbyes to the new friends we made, I definitely kissed the pout goodbye, and off we went. To binge on some drunk food and crawl into our beds. That was the extent of my wild weekend story.
Drinking is a great time, but now that I'm 26 I can only do it heavily once in a blue moon (alcohol pun intended). Even casual drinking I can only handle once every other week. So I'm still on the prowl for the future Mr. Mallory Minor, and hopefully he comes out drinking on the same alternative weekends that I do... But until then, I will have to keep on kissing strangers on the dance floor I guess, since that's been working out pretty well for me... Until next time, xoxo.
Another Valentine's Day is about to come and go. Every year, people buy outrageous gifts to share with their loved one on a random weekday that American's have dubbed a day of love. Valentine's Day was always a chocolates-and-flowers kind of holiday, but now millennials have decided to spoil each other with thousand dollar watches and vacations to places. Of course no one I know personally gets these kinds of things, but it's all I see on my Twitter feed.
The last time I shared a valentine with someone was my high school boyfriend, Corey. We started dating on January 22 and he got me a beautiful necklace that was probably not worthy of only a month of dating. But we were young and in love and whatever. That was the last time that I got to exchange a gift with someone on Valentine's Day that isn't my mom... a whole NINE years ago. Just think of all of the money I have saved from not having a valentine for all these years..
So when I started to think of a topic for this week (seeing how I couldn't write about my own personal valentine experience), I turned to the internet. Thankfully, there is Facebook group I am a part of that is filled with girls who were willing to share their horror stories of finding love for Valentine's Day. Dozens of women opened up about their worst stories and I even got a few that had happy endings (and not just the good kind 😉). All of these stories of failed dates and men who overstayed their welcome got me to thinking just how little we really go on a "date". And how do these dates come to fruition? Often times it's months and months of talking and texting and swiping right but half the time the dates either suck (like my last blog) or they just never come to be. Why is it that men don't want to take the time to plan an old fashioned date like they once did?
I heard dozens of stories of women taking initiative to plan the date, only to have the men complain the whole time, or women who waited so long for a man to plan something that she found someone else in the meantime. But when a man does take the initiative to plan something special, isn't it terrifying leaving the comfort of your home to hopefully enjoy whatever he has planned? And deciding what to wear because you may be going on a safari or you might be dining at a five start restaurant is a daunting task. So I turned to the experts, because clearly that isn't me, and here are some of the best stories I got...
A girl in my group met someone on Bumble, they chatted for a bit and then he said he wanted to plan a special date. He asked her to meet him at his apartment complex (note: you probably shouldn't do this on a first date, but she recognized this and now we're moving on). When she got there, he said it was such a nice day, they should walk. I could get behind this because living where I do, Main Street is only a few blocks away and why would we drive and try and find parking? I mean personally I would probably Uber over walking, but whatever. They get to the restaurant for brunch and he asks if it's too early for a Bloody Mary (I mean... NEVER too early for alcohol, especially on a date), he orders his cocktail and they're having a good time - or so I'm assuming, I wasn't there - and then he drops the bomb. Not as bad as having anal cysts (i.e last week's blog in case you missed it), but that the real reason they walked wasn't so they could enjoy the sunshine, maybe hold hands or something cute, but actually because he lost his license to a DUI... And just how do you escape that? Stuck at a table with a person you thought you were understanding but then there's this..
Another one of my favorites came from a date where the guy worked in sales. We love men with ambition, and if you're a good salesman, chances are you stretch the truth a bit, right? You need to tell white lies to get people to buy your bullshit, and our friend here was no exception. Days after the what 'seemed normal' date, our salesman was spotted as the "come get your popcorn" guy at the local stadium. I mean sales, sure, but probably not the type of sales she had in mind.. Maybe he stretched the truth a little too far for this one..
But even with the stories that seem too bad for redemption, there is a lid out there for every pot. But sometimes we grab a lid that's unusually large to fit our pot (pun intended). It can be exhausting trying lid after lid in search of that perfect fit, but it has to be done, otherwise we would never experience our water boiling over. This Valentine's Day, test your lid out to make sure it's the right one. Count your blessings if you aren't finding yourself experiencing the horrors of dating, especially during this week of love. If you are on the market and in search of someone new, maybe wait until next week to dip your toe back in. Nothing would be worse than adding to the horror story of a first date while being surrounded by roses and hearts and pre-fixed love menus that restaurants offer.
I've said it before and I will say it again, dating is hard. But when you grow old and finally find your lid, then you can look back at these bad stories and laugh and learn how to raise your own male children so that they don't grow up to talk about their assholes or ask how much student debt you're in on the first date. Men suck, but your man won't suck when you find the right one. Or at least he shouldn't for the first few years... And with all of that said, I've written a poem for all the hopeless romantics out there like myself...
enjoy this Valentine's Day if you're single,
you'll probably enjoy it if you're not,
but just think of all the money you have saved...
with the shit you haven't bought.
Ghosting is probably my least favorite thing that millennials have "invented". Like I'm talking worse than people donating money to get Kylie Jenner to a billion dollars on GoFundMe or worse than an egg breaking the internet with 10 million followers... Over all of the stupid things millennials have done, ghosting is the absolute worst. In the past week, two people have inspired me to write this post today because they did the opposite of ghosting and STILL got ripped apart for it... But isn't that all we ask for? People to be honest and communicate with us? But when they ghost us we get angry, and when they tell us they aren't feeling it we get angry, so where's the happy medium?
Today my blog goes out to my roommate, and my other roommate's sister. Both are wonderful, amazing women who put themselves out in this scary world of dating, only to get a crash course in crazy men and 'mini-stalkers', and I'm here to set the scene for you... So sit down because this blog is a crazy one and I'm honored to be able to spread the horror stories to you all...
Exhibit A: Let's call him Tony. Tony and my roommate went out on a date. Things went well, he was nice (better than Henry), but she just wasn't that into him (totally fine). After the date he said 'let's do it again next week', but then never followed up. Okay fine, we assumed he wasn't actually that into it, and moved on, aka ghosted, but whatever. A week later, he sends a casual 'thought we were hanging out last week, lol'. LOL? Adding that to the end of a serious sentence is a whole other blog post in itself... moving on. The conversation went on for a bit and long story short, she tried to end it with 'I had fun, but I just don't see this going anywhere'... *and cue the crazy* He. Went. OFF. And I mean like way further than a gentleman should. As in be gracious and take your losses like a man, say goodbye, and move on. He responded with things like 'I've been rejected by 150 women and I demand a reason why...', and 'How would you know if you don't see it going anywhere if you didn't even give it another shot'. This went on for about a day, to the point where any normal human would be embarrassed... but not Tony. He persisted.
Enter exhibit B: Let's call him Eric. Eric went on a date with my roommate's sister. This is the best story, better than Henry, so I don't want to leave any small detail out. The date started with Eric texting he would be late, when in fact he didn't arrive late, but this detail is crucial. He started the date with a never forgetting opener about why he was "late". He asked his date if she had ever heard of Pilonidal Cysts. (Don't Google it just yet... keep reading.) Unless you're a doctor or nurse, the average person probably doesn't know what the P word could possibly stand for... But then, he kindly explained it to her. He proceeded to tell her that he was suffering a great medical case of ANAL CYSTS. Yes, you read that correctly. On a first date, this young man sat there with a straight face and talked about his asshole for forty-five minutes... It takes a really special person not to ghost him on the spot and fake a bathroom trip and never return leaving him with the bill and his cysts to tend to. But she stuck it out like a saint... If only this was the worst thing he did on the date, (not that anything can compare to his butthole leaking), but he also pulled a Henry and said the food was expensive and other minor red flags that would never warrant a second date. But imagine Eric's surprise when his date told him she didn't see this going anywhere afterwards! But what? It went so well.... Poor Eric. For days, and I'm talking like two straight days, he sent paragraphs on paragraphs of texts not understanding what went wrong.... asking for justification and explanation of how someone could not see a future with someone they didn't even get to know yet... well here's a thought, Eric.. maybe because you talked about your asshole for 45 minutes? Just a small maybe though.... I'm not totally sure.
But here are two really strong examples of men who were unsatisfied hearing there was no future with them. When in reality, neither of them were deserving of even a closure text. These women could have led them on, ignored them, or moved to another state and never dated a man again... But they didn't... They chose to tell them "hey, I don't see a future here, sorry." And for whatever reason, that was unacceptable. Maybe because 150 other women have so rudely turned down Tony or because Eric was genuinely confused why she wouldn't want to care to his cysts.... But these women were being kind, and they still weren't satisfied. The moral of the story here is to follow the example and be honest with people. If you don't see a future with someone you don't need to explain yourself, you don't need to justify why, you don't owe anyone an explanation into your feelings. So many times people get caught up in how to explain a situation to someone else, when you don't need to. Your life, your feelings, your emotions are the property of you. You don't owe anyone anything that allows them insight in to your life. No one get's to make you feel less than yourself without your permission, and that is what we all need to remember.
Author - mallory
I've always lived a wild life, so here I am to document it for the world... be ready for some fun adventures, xoxo.