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“Why Are You Still Single?”

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Recently, I read an article about a teacher who quit her job after no longer being able to withstand modern teaching methods.  She watched as her students struggled and became frustrated when they were all forced to learn the same methods, the same way, at the same time.  The students who weren’t able to grasp concepts the same way as others who picked them up quickly felt like there was something wrong with them.  They wanted to learn- it wasn’t for lack of effort- they just needed a different process.  And preferring to look like the “bad kid” instead of the “stupid kid”, they would act out.  Or, they would simply give up all together.

I couldn’t help but notice the similarities with dating these days.

In a culture where everything is instant, socially broadcast and easily replaced, its easy to figure out who’s in love…. and who’s single.  Its also equally easy to feel the pressure of your status more than ever- because apparently, it says A LOT about you.  Accurate or not.

And as someone happily residing in Singleville, I.  Am.  Over.  It.

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As I’ve mentioned before, in my group of friends, I’m “that girl“.  Notoriously single, and rather comfortable with it, I’m used to being questioned and prodded by my friends like a circus monkey.  I cant really blame them- my dating life is WAY more comical than anything you’ll find on Netflix.  And I don’t mind dishing.  Plus, it kinda helps me cope with the trauma from bad dates with clueless fuck boys.  Yes, wine and laughter really does cure ALL.

But as open as I am about my failed romances- and I use that term loosely- there is one question that I find not only unnecessary, but offensive:

Why are you still single?

Um, gee, well, it might be that chain letter I never forwarded back in 1998.  Or my inability to cook.  Or maybe, totally unbeknownst to me, I’m actually insane.  Plus, I kinda dig cats.  Oh, and I’m also vegetarian?

memes why are you still single blog liberata dolce

Or maybe- how about this:  What business is it of yours?

To me, asking someone why they’re single is really just a polite way of asking what’s wrong with them.  Like my current status in life is so horrible and unimaginable, there must be SOME reasonable explanation.  This is when people usually reply with bullshit answers to avoid pity and make them look less grotesque and more human:  I work too much…  I’m just focusing on me right now…  I’m waiting for Adam Levine to become available again (please God!!)…  So, just to keep things fair, I usually just answer the question with another question:

How are you still not?

Pow.  And this is the exact moment where everyone can grab their popcorn and wait for the shit show to begin.  Because apparently asking someone for a reasonable explanation on how they’ve managed to find someone to put up with their flaws is frowned upon.

And that right there is what we call a double standard.

You get my point?  I’m not damaged goods.  I’m not unlovable.  And I’m certainly not crazy.  I’m not anything but me.  Like the frustrated kids in class, I’m simply operating on a different system.  And while my system may not be the same as yours, I’ll still get the right answer.

(And by the way- is it not complete irony that I was in all Honors classes??)

My point is, THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH ME.  There’s no dark and twisty past.  No fear of commitment.  Except maybe to the wrong guy.  So what if I haven’t followed a pre-determined timeline of dating, by basic methods, where the final exam is marriage.  The SAT’s of love.  And let me just say- there are quite a few of you that have already failed that one miserably.

Maybe I’m fine taking all the prep courses I can for now.  So when the time comes to apply all that knowledge, I’ll knock it clear out of the park.

Maybe, while everyone else is cheating off each other’s papers, I’m simply concentrating on my own.  On my time.  My way.

And maybe… just maybe, I actually care so much about it, that I want to be the best one in the class.  The Valedictorian of my life.

And in all honesty, looking back, my time being single has never been time wasted.  I am someone who is constantly evolving.  Constantly learning.  Probably more so than others.  And there has been no greater teacher than my time with my own self.  And while I’m not saying there aren’t things to discover with the help of someone else, I am saying that you need to know yourself first.  Cause any relationship prior to that isn’t a relationship at all- its a distraction.

So in case you haven’t caught on yet- being single has nothing to with anyone but ME.  Forget the god awful quotes you read on Tumbler.  You know which ones I’m talking about…

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Yeah.  Exactly.  Stop posting that ridiculous shit.  “Amazing” should be a no-brainer.  It should be the bare minimum of traits in your significant other.  It should not need a Pinterest board to remind you- or anyone else– of that.  Instead, remind yourself of your own amazing attributes.  They are SO much more interesting.

As we grow, we go through our own personal life experiences at different times.  Our first date…  Our first kiss…  Our first love…  Our second…  Some people go on to Grad School.  Some never even finish High School.  These are the very factors that make each of us so beautifully unique.  So why should anything else have an expiration date.  There are no numbers stamped on me that say “Best by ##/##/####”.  And yet here we all are, happily going on about our days, doing the best we can, trying to achieve our own goals.  So just like all the other beautiful, unique factors that make you YOU, who is anyone to determine the timeline for all the things still to come?

So the next time someone asks why you’re still single- tell them the truth.

That you’re not single.

You’re fine.

In fact, you’re more than just fine-

You’re fabulous.

#BombshellCode 

(Although I might start forwarding those chain letters- just in case… ;))

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#BombshellCode, Confessions, Dating, Model Life, Sorry I'm No Sorry

LUSTstoned – Style… or Substance?

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LUSTstoned

Having promised to always be honest with you, I’ll admit that I can be a little… superficial.  I’ve chosen style over practicality (and rationalism) many times.  I mean, come on- have you seen my shoes??  So its no surprise that I’m probably guilty of choosing the men I date in the same fashion.  See what I did there?

I like the bad boys.  The rockstars.  The charismatic ones that specialize in seducing.  And ultimately destroying.  They’re charming, passionate, and intriguing.  Their sex appeal is intoxicating.  Being the object of desire to these men is like slipping into a brand new pair of Louboutin’s.  Convinced I can match they’re complexity, it gives me a natural high.  I’m not love stoned- I’m LUST stoned.  I call these men “enigmatic”.  You, on the other hand, would probably call them an asshole.  I will eventually end up calling them that too.  Except its usually after the storm.  And just like hurricanes, they each have their own name.  Some are more catastrophic than others.  But the same warning signs are always there.  And I’m the idiot that refuses to evacuate and later needs to be airlifted to safety.  And by airlifted, I mean drink wine and vowing to never date again.  Until the next one comes along.  Because who knows- maybe he could really be the one??

LOL.  Right.

I think I’ve been too busy treating men like accessories.

So here’s the real question- Why?

Well, before we can even try to answer that, lets get to the good stuff first.  A look at a few of my recent examples.  After all, if this is going to turn into a case study, you should be equipped with the proper information.  That, or at the very least, it will bring you some great entertainment.

CASE STUDY #1:  Hurricane Rockstar

Hands down, the Rockstar is, and always will be, my personal drug of choice.  There’s something about a man with a guitar that eliminates all logic in my body and replaces it with pure stupidity.  And like a true addict, I’ve dabbled in every field.  From coffee house crooners, to Grammy winning A-Listers, they all leave me unable to process and react to their actions the way I would with other men.  Instead, I chalk up their bad behavior to their bad boy way of life.  Like being a musician of any sort gives them a get-out-of-jail-free card for being a dick.  They’re not being unreasonable and selfish- they’re brooding and mysterious.  They’re not broke- they’re starving artists, refusing to give up on their passion.  Its endearing.  Its admirable.  Its sexy.

ITS ALSO A FUCKING JOKE.

And I’m proud to say my last rockstar was the one that finally landed me in rehab.  For good.  Unlike Amy Winehouse, I was screaming, “Yes, Lord, YASSSSSS!”.   You see, I have this ridiculous habit of giving people way more credit than they deserve.  I’m totally ignorant in the sense that I believe the person they are presenting to me is who they really are.  And above all, I truly believe they are simply incapable of being cruel to me.  Until they are.  Yes, I’m that stupid.  Or that hopeful.  I’m not sure which yet.  But I DO know this- when someone share’s your personal conversations for another woman to respond to, you need to erase that person from your life.  Immediately.  Because they either have the maturity of a 13 year old, the respect of a 5 star douchebag, or severe self-esteem issues.  Because nothing remains more true than this- hurt people hurt people.   All it takes is one very harsh look at reality, and an intelligent, handsome rockstar morphs instantly into someone who probably doesn’t care much about anyone but himself.  And while I may be clueless with men, I am ON POINT with my standards in love.

With the quality of people I want in my life.

And, above all, the respect I deserve.

So in conclusion, someone so unhappy with their own life has absolutely no place in mine, guitar or not.  Case closed.

CASE STUDY #2:  Hurricane Full of Shit

I’m ashamed to even be talking about this one.  Really.  And I’m inviting any of you to come and slap me for even entertaining this tool as long as I did.  And here, gentlemen, is where I will dispense the greatest piece of dating advice a girl can offer-

Never, EVER set the standard of the first date higher than what you plan to maintain after.

Case in point: Yacht Boy (as I shall refer to him) had pursued me for a while.  Seeing him as wholesome and serious, I of course dodged every attempt like Mayweather in the ring.  But he never quit.  And as fate would have it, I ran into him one night.  We ended up talking- really talking.  And much to my surprise, we had a lot in common.  It was then that I started to realize that maybe all the things about him I had initially run from were exactly what I needed.  He was going to be out of town for a while, but we agreed to get together as soon as he got back.  Of course, during his time away, we texted and shared pictures.  Not of our bodies, but of our actual lives.  Things that were important.  It was…. nice.

We made plans for the day he returned home.  Yep, you read that right.  I wont lie- it felt incredibly good to have someone that was so excited to see me.  He literally was driving, across states, to take me out.  Understandably, he ended up running a little late.  Given the effort, I didn’t mind one bit.  When he picked me up (Yes, you also read THAT right- picked me up) he apologized, explaining that upon his arrival home, he was greeted to absolutely no power at his place.  Wanting to keep his plans with me, he simply showered (a very cold shower in a very dark bathroom) and was out the door.  Everything else he would deal with later.   Whoa.  Wait.  Say what??   I’ve had to ask guys to change into actual jeans just to go out, because no, joggers are not acceptable date attire.  And this guy risked hypothermia for me?  And think about shaving- I knick myself just looking at a razor, let alone sliding it along my body in the dark.  So I’m thinking this guy is even an absolute gentlemen, or a total fucking idiot.

Idiot would eventually win.  It always does.

So as you probably guessed, we had a great date.  So much so it led to a second date.  At his place.  With power, of course.  Wanting to show off his culinary skills, he cooked a full course dinner and even made homemade ice cream for me.  I know, I know- its almost too good.  We would see each other a few more times after that, but something started to happen.  Or, everything started to happen.  To him.  It seemed like making plans were impossible because he was sick.  Or going out of the country.  Or out of state.  Or a family member had died.  Or multiple.  No really.  Like, 2 in one week, I believe?  Now, I might be a total asshole for saying this, but I call Bullshit.  You’re either a terrible liar, or the unluckiest person around.  Either way, its safe to say that you just got filed back into my “No Thank You” file.  But EVERY FREAKIN TIME I shut that damn thing, he would come along, and say something to get my attention.  Again.  He knew how to keep me at just the right distance to string me along.  And so the cycle began.  He would set something up.  I would believe him.  Because he couldn’t possibly do it again.  And then HE WOULD DO IT AGAIN.  In fact, at the end, I think the only real reason I would even agree to see him was just to prove myself right about him.  That he was a liar.  And finally I summoned the courage to point out to him what I had already accepted.  I reminded him of his effort on our first date.  That he had set his own standard when it came to me.  That he had kept his word and put me first when we set plans.  And that he had failed miserably in ever reaching it again.

And I don’t date failures.

Bye, Felicia.  Another case closed.

CASE STUDY #3:  Hurricane HeadCase

I wont go into too much detail with this guy.  Because unlike the others, this one actually hurt me.  The others were comical (after the fact) and were certainly valuable lessons.  But this one- I cant really explain what happened.  Or why.  Other than to say that some people are just bad.  And probably have bigger issues going on in their lives than we will ever understand.  You see, this was the guy that made the effort.  And then went beyond it.  When we talked, he didn’t just listen to me- he took notes.  And would surprise me with things later.  Like my favorite movie.  Or a pillow I saw in a shop when we were out on a casual stroll.  When I was sick, he made hour long trips just to bring me soup and ice cream- only to then snuggle me, letting me fall asleep on his lap.  When it got too late, he would take me to bed, and would leave only after I had fallen asleep.  One of the last times I saw him, we watched the sunset at the beach and downloaded stargazing aps.  We spent the rest of the night talking about like and looking at constellations, among a few other late night beach activities.  It was also the night he told me how he “really, really, really, really, really, really wanted this to work”.  And I did too.  No question about it.  He told me what he needed from me, and I agreed.

And then he disappeared.

He went total ghost.  It was, quite honestly, one of the most indescribable feelings to experience.  A little anger, a little disbelief, a little sadness.  All mixed with confusion.  And hurt.  It was a definitive moment where I had opened myself up.  Became a little vulnerable.  And let the walls down just a bit.  And got smacked down hard.  And all because I actually believed him.  And started to explore my feelings towards him.  And why wouldn’t I?

Easy- because I’m a normal, compassionate, loving human being.  I don’t promise rose gardens to unsuspecting victims.  I don’t stir up feelings in individuals just to stroke my own ego.  And I certainly do not intentionally hurt others just to fill some void in my life.  Maybe he was unhappy, and I was a temporary cure.  When his ego was sufficiently inflated, there was no longer room for me. I’m sure whatever the reason was, it was justifiable to him.  Otherwise, I believe I would have gotten an “I’m sorry” at one point.  But like most sociopaths, I know now that day will never come.

So as much as I would like to blame all these guys, the obvious similarity they all have…. is me.  So it brings me to my original question- do I choose these men because I truly see them as potential partners.  Or are they all just glittery accessories, comfortable in the sense that I already have a good idea how it will end.  And therefore, I never have to get too invested.  I never need to get to a point where I can see them as a Potential Maybe, instead of a Inevitable Storm.

Personally, I think in the end, I’m still hoping for the Potential Maybe, that’s just lost in the Inevitable Storm.  The storms we as females all have to go through.  Because like a good margarita, I doubt we would appreciate the sweet nearly as much without the sour.

#BombshellCode

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Modeling- Vanity? Or Lesson in Humility?

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A Pivotal Moment….

Every model has some story about how they were “discovered”.  For me, it was a little different.  I had always been told by friends and family that I should model- that I was “so photogenic”… and “so pretty”.  And my obsession with fashion magazines only encouraged them.  What they didn’t know was that I was extremely insecure.  What others saw as vanity was actually only self conscience attempts to hide every flaw.  And even though I had all this encouragement, nothing could make me see it till I myself started to see it too.  Ironically, it was the other models in my fashion magazines that finally helped me do this.  They inspired me.  Pushed me.  Challenged me.  Not to be like them physically- I was insecure, not stupid.  But to be part of something beautiful.  Iconic.  Extraordinary.  Like the old school Guess? ads we all know and love.  It wasn’t about being the actual girl in the picture- it was about the entire image itself.  To me, every ad campaign from Gucci, YSL, Chanel, Versace… it was all ART.  And I wanted a to be a part of it SO bad.

Fast forward to a few years later….

My best friend is marrying the man of her dreams, and I’m the Maid of Honor, just like we had always promised each other.  Now, for the average BFF, this is already a big job.  Like, huge.  And tough.  Because its also the one time you knowingly, and very lovingly, have to tone down your look for the big day.  Because its not about you.  In other words, you have to look amazing, without actually looking amazing.  YOU are the accessory.  You’re the Chanel clutch (classy, simple) carried next to a Balmain dress (jaw-dropping gorgeous).

But that’s okay- cause I happen to love Chanel.

However, the job duties become even more challenging for someone like me.  Because I’m the fashion queen in the group, my friends have always come to me with dilemmas.  Especially for big events.  So naturally, when it comes to my dress for the big day, no one wants to tell me what to wear.  (Even though I promise I would if they did…  I think…  Okay, I might customize it a tiny bit…)  So as anticipated, I’m given free reign from the Bride to find my own Maid of Honor dress.  Her only request is simple- it has to be purple.

Easy for anyone else.  For me- it’s my new fashion conquest.

This launches me into one of those epic fashion searches I’m famous for.  And this is why I say that this particular responsibility is so much harder for someone like me.  This isn’t merely just about finding a purple dress.  Its about finding THE purple dress.  Its about the finding the most perfect, amazing, purple dress that was ever stitched together.  Its about finding the perfect dress so my Best Friend’s day is EVERYTHING she ever dreamed it would be.  Because this is a day where details matter- and I’m now one of those details.

With images of terrifying bridesmaid dresses from the 80’s swimming in my head, I know the one most critical factor is to stick with something classic.  Timeless.  Simple.  Something ageless that wont send shivers down children’s spine when they look at their Grandparents wedding pictures years from now.  I can honestly tell you I have had nightmares involving those puffy sleeves… to a fashionista, they’re legit scarier than any clown.

And this is when it all happens.

I think I’m at my 35th bridal shop.  I’m giving the same speech to the assistant- “…..purple.  Any shade, but not too dark… long and floaty… unique, but classic… mermaid preferably…. do you have anything backless?”.  This particular shop also carried pageant gowns, so I was feeling rather positive.  At the very least, there would be some unique gowns to slip into and pretend.  It’s like playing “Dress Up” for grown ups.  So I’m in heaven, trying on gown after gown while the assistant feverishly pulls more- her determination was quite impressive.  High on fashion endorphins and lost in the thrill of sequins and sinfully plunging necklines, I started to lose focus.  As I admire the latest body-hugging contestant in the mirror, I suddenly realize- this dress is gold…??  Wait, what is happening?  Purple… we need PURPLE!!  It is then that I realize another woman is watching this parade of pageant gowns- the owner.  Before I can even call for the assistant to redirect her focus back to the original mission, the owner comes to me.  Turns out she had just received a new season of gowns and wanted to see them on someone.  And because of my body type, I was “perfect”.  Perfect meaning “big boobs, small waist and can squeeze into sample sizes”.

At the same time, a photographer was also in the shop.  He shot a lot of weddings and worked with the owner of the boutique quite often.  My impromptu fashion show had caught his attention.  “Have you ever modeled before?” he asks.  I laugh.  Of course.  Cause that’s what I do when I’m nervous.  Or on the spot.  Crazy right?  I bet you thought modeling was all about vanity and self-centered attention.  Wrong, wrong, wrong…. but more on that later.

I’m not sure what it was.  I had been asked before.  Many times before.  Maybe I was just in the right mood.  Maybe I was feeling all this good wedding energy.  Maybe it was just simply meant to be.  But I agreed to shoot with him.  And just like that, it all started.

So while I didn’t find the perfect dress there, I did find something.  An opportunity.  A crossroads that actually became one of the most pivotal moments in my life thus far.  I often wonder if the insecure side of me would have won that day, and I had said “no thank you”.  Who would I be right now?  Where would I be right now?  What great things would I have accomplished in lue of my experiences as a result of saying “yes”?  I’m not saying I’m a better person as a result- just a different person.  A stronger, slightly more confident version.

Earlier I mentioned vanity.  And how utterly incorrect it is to associate it with modeling.  Or at least with MY modeling.  I’m sure there are those who simply just enjoy having their picture taken.  Who relish the attention of being the primary focus.  And that’s okay- to each their own.  But to assume that’s the agenda of every model is not only inaccurate, it’s unfair.  I’m somewhere on the opposite end of the spectrum.  You see, shoots have become a personal challenge for me.  A way of growth. Of acceptance- of who I am both physically and mentally.  There is no hiding from my flaws- only brutal honesty.  I give up total control of how I will be presented when all is said and done.  Or shot, rather.

Take a selfie for instance.  We are ALL guilty of them, so bare with me here…  When someone takes a selfie, they take multiple shots, right?  Go on, you can admit it.  I bet you even have a favorite side you prefer.  You then choose the one you like best.  The one that has the perfect angle.  It hides what you don’t want to show, or if you cant hide it, well… you can find a filter.  Or, it accentuates, or points to, what YOU want to feature.  My point is, you don’t take a selfie without the intention of putting the best “you” out there.

Modeling is pretty much the opposite of that.  Its like taking all those shots, never looking at them, and giving them all away to someone else so they can do whatever they want with them.  Scary, right?

Yeah- that’s what I thought.

Now lets take it one step further.  Think about the person that has those images.  They’re zooming in on all the things you would be mortified for someone to notice.   Think about your date walking up to you and pointing out that pimple you thought you covered.  Or that stretch mark on your hip.  Or the dimples on your thigh.  Or… you get the point.

That’s how vulnerable and exposed I feel every time I step in front of the lens.  My guard comes down, and the brutal physical honesty comes out.  The imperfections.  The flaws.  Remember when you first heard your voice from something recorded?  You probably thought something like “That’s not how I sound?!  Is it…??”.  That’s pretty much how I felt in the beginning when I looked at raw shots.  I was forced to see myself in ways I had always avoided before.   Or ignored.  I saw the real me.  I saw myself through another person’s eye.  The good… the bad… the flaws.  Or what I use to consider flaws.  Slowly they have turned into love and acceptance.  Not totally- but I’m more forgiving of myself then I ever thought I would be capable of.

So in short- for me, its a lesson in humility, as my Dad would say.  Its a glimpse at reality.  The sometimes very brutal truth, depending on the lighting.  The truth where there is no capturing your “good side” (mine is my left).  Because they will capture every side.

At the same time, its also an opportunity to open yourself.  To let parts of yourself out that you normally try to silence.  An opportunity to accept yourself.  An opportunity to creatively express emotions or feelings.  Some of my favorite shots are simple candid moments between me and the photographer.  Maybe we were sharing a cigarette.  Or talking about my most recent boyfriend.  Maybe we were simply musing about the future.  And that is where the challenge comes from.  With everything I have discovered and accepted about myself, why would I even think about stopping?  Especially when I know its just the beginning.  I want to dig SO much deeper.

And the best part?  I have images as personal proof of my evolution.  Some good, some bad- all special.

Just something to consider the next time you want to call a model Vain.  Perhaps its YOU that needs to dig a little deeper as well?

Like the great Karl Lagerfeld once said, “Change is the healthiest way to survive”.

And for those still wondering, of course I found “the perfect dress”.  A beautiful creation by Vera Wang, and customized with a vintage brooch.  I was the perfect accessory, to the perfect wedding, of the perfect couple (I love you!!).

So remember, whether your searching for a dress, or self acceptance, just follow your natural instinct.  Do what feels right for YOU.  Don’t be afraid to take chances.  And never miss out on a chance to discover more about yourself.

Because perseverance will ALWAYS pay off.

#BombshellCode

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#BombshellCode, Confessions, Dating, Intro, Model Life

Confessions: Intro

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Confession 1: 

The Intro

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Yes, yes- I know.  I promised you when this fabulous site first launched that I would be open and honest about my own personal love life.  And I think now is the perfect time to begin that process.

You see, a very large motivating factor for this very site is my perpetual habit of choosing men that are SO wrong for me.  Like, really wrong.  Like, so wrong that my own Mom gave up any kind of hope a long time ago.  And lets be honest- if I made logical decisions on whom I dated, I doubt I would be nearly as interesting.  Or scarred (literally).  And think of all the awesome experiences I would have missed out on.  Like finding out the guy you’ve been dating for a month is married.  Or being bit by an overly intoxicated date (I really wasn’t joking about the scar).  And then there’s the closet Jesus freak that compared me to a prostitute (thank you POF!).  How about the guy that freaked out on me, and then blamed it on his preventative hair-loss medication…

By now, I have enough experience to supply complete storylines for at least 3 movies.  Except none of them come with Fairytale endings.  Yet.  No, they’re probably more like horror films.  And clearly I’m like the dumb, slutty blonde character that always dies in the end because she runs the (very obvious) wrong way.

You would think I’d learn by now…

Which brings me to my topic.

After years of dating, and with no real relationships to really show for it, it makes me wonder- Are we all willing to keep putting ourselves out there because we’re addicted to love?  Or just the rush of dating to find someone better?

Lets go back to the old boring way people used to do it.  There was no internet, no texting, no Joe Manganiello.  I mean, that’s enough right there for me to hate things.  But yet, I think people were at their happiest when it came to dating.  They didn’t have a whole world of potential partners to choose from- they had their hometown.  They didn’t initiate contact with weeks of texting before “hanging out”.  They went on actual dates.  Together.  Without any prior knowledge of each other that they gathered from Facebook and Google.  Like, whoa.

And for those still not quite sure what this mythical term means, “Dating” was considered a formal act of courtship.  A clear first step in determining if you guys were going to get hitched down the road.  They went to places like drive-ins.  Probably because the only action they could even hope for HAD to take place during the actual date itself- because going home with the other person at the end of the night wasn’t even an option.  Hence why you actually had to GO TO PLACES SPECIFICALLY TO MAKEOUT.  Where other couples were making out around you (Ew…).  And then you waited for a phone call.  Like, really waited.  By a phone that was connected to a wall.  For days (which would be like weeks today).  And that was code for “You are now in consideration for future hitching”.

Awesome.

Take my parents, for instance- they met at a party… and never left each others side.  They grew up in the same town.  Met through mutual friends.  Fell in love.  And STAYED in love.  As a bonus, they even got me out of the deal.  Again- Awesome.

And since we’re on that note, lets look at me.  It seems the fact that I have remained single is so unexplainable to my friends.  No one can understand it.  Or when I meet someone new…..

liberata dolce blog confessions single why

I often get stared at in wonder by family the same way people probably look at crop circles.  How?  Why?  Should we be afraid??  After all, I come from a good, balanced family.  My childhood was almost TOO perfect.  There are no tragic incidents from my past to report.  I have a college degree.  A great career.  BAD shopping habits (it cant all be sunshine and roses…).  I’m healthy…  Intelligent…  Happy…

So…. whats wrong with me?

The answer- Absolutely nothing.

I’m just an example, or by-product even, of dating by today’s standards.  Or rather, lack thereof.  I’m an example of someone addicted to the thrill of the hunt and driven by personal challenge.  Men are trophies.  Sex is power.  And feelings, if you even have any, are disposable.  Terrified at the thought of missing out on someone better, I never want to get too attached.

Okay, so I’m not totally ALL of those things.  Not all together.  Because that would make me a frigid bitch that’s incapable of love.  If anything, I’m the exact opposite.  I look for it so hard that I ignore all the signs that are screaming for me to run.  And yet I don’t.  Because I’m the dumb blonde that always runs the wrong way, remember?  But I can probably directly link one or more of those reasons to most of, if not all, of my past relationships.

And speaking of which, lets look at some of those, shall we?

*As a side note to the men of my past who might find themselves reading this- relax.  Your identity is safe.  This isn’t a Burn Book, and you’re not that special.  But it IS my honest opinion.  So deal with it.

Now, I cant possibly write about all the great loves of my life in one post.  I feel like I would be cheating you from some pretty epic examples of “Oh no he didn’t!!” moments.  And those moments are exactly what you came here for.  And just to set the record straight- I’m no angel myself.  But most of you probably already guessed that.

So instead, I’ll share these stories with you individually.  In the form of “Confessions”.  Confessions to my past addictions (also known as “men”), and the lessons that came with them.  Because like any good drug, they all had some euphoric hold on me.  And then eventually left me strung out and exhausted.  Some even left me ashamed.  Others craving another hit.  Some I went multiple rounds with.  Some I hope to never lay eyes on again.  Ever.

So get ready.  Because honesty is always the best policy….

Sorry I’m not sorry.

#BombshellCode

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“There’s nothing wrong with getting dirty when you clean up well.”

#BombshellCode, Dating

Bad Blood

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We’ve talked about fashion.  We’ve talked about music.  Now its time to balance it all out and get down to the dirty.

The one topic that continues to elude us all.  Because like everything else, dating is also a constantly evolving game- except now there are more players and rules then ever before.

Liberata Dolce model dating fashion

Lets go back to basics first.  Starting with the most primal, natural, gratifying part of the whole process- the chase.  The act of pursuing a partner that seems completely disinterested in your now sole mission in life.  Its calculated.  And for some men, its even art.  Seduce and destroy.  Or, seduce and actually fall in love.  Either way, the rules used to be clear.  Gestures were grand.

It was actually kind of romantic.

But those days are gone.  The only evidence that they even existed are found in Romantic Comedies.  You can thank THEM for giving you an unrealistic idea of what to expect today.  I mean, if you’re a bird, I’m a bird, right??

Wrong.

Had The Notebook been written today, you would have seen Noah jump on Tinder the second he was single, swiping at a feverish pace to find the next great lay.  Or, instead of reading to Allie at the end, he would have just sent her texts full of emoticons.  Because any real words or questions might come off as too forward.  Maybe every now and then she’ll get a dick pic (that he keeps stored in his phone because he’s sent it to 5 other girls already).

Uh huh.  I bet you’re all suddenly relating now.

We don’t even HAVE rules anymore.  By the time anyone can really come up with some, technology changes again, or a new app is released, and suddenly its all blurry again.

For instance- can you even DEFINE dating today?  In fact, it sounds stupid to even still use the word since no one really even goes on dates anymore anyways.  We “hang out”.  When was the last time someone actually picked you up, took you out, dropped you off, walked you to your door….?  Today, everyone meets somewhere.  And then we find it charming if they tell us to text them that we got home safely.  See- obviously they must like you.

Nope.  Sorry.  That’s just someone being a decent human being.  Cause the real test comes after…

How long till either of you are checking your online dating accounts?  If my theories are correct, HE was probably checking it periodically through your “date”.  YOU waited till at least after you sent the follow up “Just got home, had a great time, insert every emoticon under the sun except for a heart cause that’s too forward”.

  And there you have it.  We don’t want easy (the chase), but yet, we DO want easy.  Because we know that if there is something even remotely challenging about this person, or if they don’t meet our requirements (I mean, he’s not even 6 ft!?), we can go shop online for our next date.  I mean, hang out in a public place that we both drove to.  Sounds like a real fairytale…

It gets worse though.  Lets say you’re now dating someone that you actually really do like, “flaws” and all (5’11 is almost 6 ft, after all).  But are you dating??  Like, really dating.  Like, exclusively banging each others brains out 3 to 4 nights a week?  I mean, we’re sleeping together, and hang out all the time, so I guess so…  But he hasn’t changed his Facebook status…?  And he still has his POF account…?  Wait- where did he say he was going tonight??  We haven’t had “the talk” yet…  Its okay- I left enough of my stuff in his bathroom to mark my territory.  And yes ladies- THAT is where all your bobbie pins and hair ties go.  They are sacrifices to the dating Gods to warn all potential bitches that’s YOUR property.  Have you ever been in a guys bathroom and saw a bobbie pin??  Universal girl code sign to “Run, Side Chick, ruuuunn!”.

Are you kidding me?  You just had sex on his kitchen counter, but the idea of suggesting being exclusive seems too forward?  To clingy?  No, you’re right.  Its better just to play it cool.  You don’t want to pressure him, after all.  I’m sure he just hasn’t gotten around to uninstalling his dating apps because he’s soooo wrapped up in you.  And those pictures he liked on Facebook- I’m sure those bikini clad stripper looking girls are just old friends.  Yep, you got yourself a real gentleman.  Who needs The Notebook, or titles?

YOU DO.

Stop letting little shits like this change the rules of dating.  Change the act of pursuing you.  Change YOUR STANDARDS.

You are NOT hard to love.  You are NOT setting an unrealistic standard.

When I talk about dating, I hear most of the blame being placed on men today.  And I could not disagree more.   I think men are pretty simple- when they like you, there is rarely any doubt.  They call.  They make plans.  They keep plans.  They make more plans.

Women on the other hand, well, we don’t seem to understand that.  So we make excuses.  Over-analyze on reasons why we haven’t heard from him.  We give way to much when we get way too little.  And with that, we have reinforced negative behavior.  You didn’t hear from him for 3 days…, but he said he was busy…, it was a really tough week at work…., so I guess I’ll go over his place tonight…

Yeah, he must REALLY like you.  Until 3 days turns into 5 days.  5 days turn into a week.  And then a week turns into you crying into a pint of Ben & Jerry’s wondering what’s wrong with you.  Next thing you know, you’re the next Taylor Swift.  Except you don’t write songs- your weapon of choice is passive aggressive Facebook posts and Instagram quotes.  Now, before you run out to buy a bunch of cats and declaring yourself a lesbian from here on out, let me break it down to you.  Cause I’ve done the Ben & Jerry routine one too many times.  There’s NOTHING wrong with you.

You just didn’t clarify what YOU wanted.  What you needed.  You put the focus on him.  His needs.  His rules.  You silenced yourself when you shouldn’t have.  All in the sake of playing it cool.  And that’s exactly what happened.  Because it probably never should have been in the first place.  And if you would have spoken up about what YOU wanted, and how YOU felt, you would have seen this answer a lot sooner.  Way before the emotional attachments started (that stupid pet name he gave you).  Or the routines became consistent (we slept sooo good together).  And definitely way before he ever made you feel bad about yourself, or what you deserve.  You were easy.  You were comfortable.  And, eventually, you became replaceable.

So you see, its not always a good thing to be easy.  Not when it comes at the cost of being honest.  With yourself, and with him.

Be open about who you are.  And direct about what you need.

Yeah, you’re probably still going to “hang out” with a lot of idiots.  And get dick pics.  Seriously guys- stop sending those.  No one gets excited by them.  But you’ll also save yourself a lot of time and heartache, freeing you to meet the guy that DOES pick you up.  And deletes his Tinder account.  And realizes upon meeting you what we already knew-

that if you’re a bird, he’s a bird.

Liberata Dolce model dating fashion beauty bombshell

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#BombshellCode, Beauty, Dating, Fashion, Model Life

A Perfect Lie…

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https://open.spotify.com/track/7G852cXa8LBspMja7NvTSs

HELLO, GORGEOUS….

And welcome to my “mlog”.

It seems fitting that my first post should be more of a description of that very word.  A preface of sorts.  A reason to anticipate crave the next post.

Model + Blog = Mlog

Clever, right?

You see, I believe I have a talent.  And it’s not modeling.  Its COLLABORATING.  The thrill of each shoot isn’t the shoot itself.  Its the pulling of wardrobe.  Its the collecting of pieces.  Its breathing life into the ideas in my head.  Down to every little detail.  The images are simply the final result.  The climax.

The images are me.  And by “me” I’m referring to that person in your head you wish you could be.  Not because you cant- but because you’re afraid.  Have you ever found yourself saying “I could never pull that off….”?   THAT is you making an excuse.  And that is what I hope to change.

Why?

Because you deserve to know that YOU are fucking gorgeous.  And as long as you believe that, you can pull off any look your fierce little heart desires.

I have a gut instinct that I follow.  From shopping, to getting ready for work, to prepping for a shoot, to lounging like a goddess at home.  That instinct is a mixture of the tone that I want to set, and the foundation of how I want to feel.  In other words- expression.

“Style is a way to say who you are without having to speak”

So I’m going to share all my secrets with you.  In a series of fashion adventures.  Whether its packing for NYC, shooting in Miami, or date night in Tampa (yes, I kiss and tell…).   And while you may regret the guy, you will never regret how you looked.  Because this is about YOU.

And because I believe in details, each post will include a song to help further set the tone.  Because I don’t shoot or dress without music.  And maybe a few other things, too…

So get ready Bombshell- I’m going to expose myself in the hopes of inspiring you to not only just pull it off, but to own it.

And with that, I will leave you my first rule:

1.  Don’t EVER concern yourself with what others think.

Ever.

There is a huge difference in how you make others feel, and how you let others make you feel.  If I worried about what every bitch thought of me, I’d be just that- another worried bitch.  And quite frankly, I feel the world has enough of those.  So brush them off.  Embrace the fact that if you are going to live your life as strong, confident, beautiful female (or as a fine ass male) you WILL have critics.  That’s good.  Embrace them.  They are your biggest fans.

Live your life for you.  Dress for you.  Date for you.

#BombshellCode

Get used to seeing that.

Now, take in everything you read here.  Let it sink in.  Start thinking of all those amazing things you have wanted to do/try/wear/say, but haven’t found the reason to yet.

Because THIS is your reason.

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