Counterpoint to GHE: Guest Appearance

So as my friend decided to go over to the "dark side"-I feel that it is my civil-blogger duty to go ahead and play Devil's Advocate and make a statement here on the subject of re-opening those oh-so-fun past relationship doors.

May I offer this inspirational quote to start us off right: "May the dreams of your past be the reality of the future." 

With this said, I believe in not closing doors (not completely anyway). Keep it cracked-just a little, or better yet, keep your eye on the peephole, what you see one day may surprise you.

Leopards may not be able to change their spots, (*please note that the animal print is popular again  and people are working it!). Don't count anything out-put it in your closet and for one of those days, when you feel like going vintage and bringing the past into the present. 

Of course, if you do have a pair of those legwarmers (or that ex that left you completely broken-hearted, dumbfounded, flabbergasted and let's not forget the fact that he showed up 4 o'clock in the morning after cheating on you), BURN the DAMN things! They shouldn't have been invented/discovered (born) in the first place. (Sorry, a little bit of GHE creeps in).

Give it a second glance-you may have missed something the first time around!

Bright Side: Why have a six pack when you can have a keg?

We've all heard the saying "more is more" -- music to a GHF girl's ears. Since the GHF world is all about more and not less, full and not empty, a GHF girl can never have enough.

Take shoes for example -- really -- "too many shoes" -- no such thing. Too much fun, too much money, too many friends -- you get the point.

When driving home from work yesterday, I was annoyed, tired, and hungry. Stuck in traffic as usual, I was losing interest in my standard book-on-cd. My mind starting wandering to the things that waited for me at home -- laundry, cleaning -- and yes, the one that makes it all worth it, the hubs :). Snapping out of my momentary GHE mood, a license plate frame caught my eye.

"Why have a six pack when you can have a keg?". So true in so many ways. Besides the obvious -- it's more fun (and tasty) to have a gut than to kill yourself at the gym OR beer is good and becomes even better in large and share-able quantities -- this quote is the essence of the GHF v. GHE debate.

Why limit yourself? Why look at the world for what's not there? You may not be as thin, as rich, or as perfect as you'd like. I say -- so what? Grab a red plastic cup, put your dancing shoes on, and join the big frat party called life.

When the party ends and you meet your maker, doubtful God will be asking how you looked in your bikini or how much you could bench press. I would venture to say that God could care less if they are Manolos or Chuck Taylors (even though I wear high heels in my sleep). God will care however if you had more -- more compassion, more love, and more concern for others.

"Why have a six pack when you can have a keg?" -- why settle for less when the world is out there, waiting for you, wanting you to join in the fun? So grab a Sharpie, write your name on that cup, and drink it in.

Bright Side: Gay or The One That Got Away

"Oh, sweetie -- you actually thought he wasn't gay?" Legitimate question if you are talking about a hair dresser or fashion designer....sometimes it's hard to know for sure. Not so much if you're asking me about an ex-boyfriend. Even more unfortunate if it's happened to you more than once. (I know....right?)

I think it's safe to say that no one likes a break-up. There's nothing easy about parting ways with someone. But when you part ways and then find out that maybe you didn't have....how do we say this?....the right equipment....well, it makes it a little easier to handle. All of a sudden, the rejection you felt melts away -- you can smile, relax, and think "it wasn't me, it was you" and really mean it.

But what about those other breakups? The ones that leave you crying on the couch until your friends rescue you, whisking you away for the weekend -- thanks girls! The ones that have you swearing off men and doubting that true love really exists. The ones that even self-help books and Oprah can't fix.

They say time heals all wounds but when you're in the thick of it, up to your elbows in Kleenex and heartache, time can't move fast enough. Bright side? Yeah, right. And then time does pass and you feel like wearing something other than his old college sweatshirt and mismatched pajama bottoms. Time passes and you're ready to get out there again, this time stronger, wiser, and determined to make your ex see the error of his ways. How could he not want you -- sexy, successful, and sassy -- and now savvy as well due to the pain you have just endured?

Eventually, enough time passes that you and your exes have not only found true love, you've married it. The pain of the breakups are a distant memory, but you always wonder -- what if? All you care about is that he thinks you are "the one that got away". Shallow, maybe...but admit it, you want the title. And why not?
Who would be stupid enough to pass you up?

You may never have the title, you may never see or speak to those exes again -- even though you might Google them or (gasp!) find them on Facebook. The words "You were the one that got away" may never be spoken. No one's going to send you a golden statue or certificate to prove it. But you know it. Just own it.

Glass Half Full folks, you are the one who got away -- own it and stay fabulous! And if you have a gay ex or three -- fabulous is your middle name, sister!

3:1 Odds-That Ain't Bad

The moment that you decide to hang up your shoes, put a red shirt on and place your name on the disability list that will take you out for the entire season and maybe a few months post-season-next thing you know, 3 scouts from top teams are coming to check you out. So what they say is true, "If you stop looking for it, it will come to you."

After "Never Look Back" dating fiasco, our bonafide Half Glass Empty girl, decided that she was done with the opposite sex, told herself the cliche "pep-talks" about focusing on yourself and your life's work, blah, blah, blah...

Enter text messages...that's right, messages (plural)-from multiple senders, people from the past, present and possible future. GAME ON!

Silver Lining: $16 Saturday

Saturday could have been chalked up as a total waste of makeup if Mr. Tiki had not stepped in. My little sister and I were out downtown – something we rarely rally up for – and it was not going well. www.isyourglasshalfempty.blogspot.com can give you the scoop on the events that took place prior, but long story short, we were in need of some TLC and fast. Enter Tropical Paradise. We wandered to Mister Tiki’s Mai Tai Lounge, dazed and confused and feeling like fish out of water. Among other lessons, the night had proven that we had missed the memo that mini dresses and short shorts, not jeans and a hot top, are Bar Wear for 2008. And P.S., when did downtown turn into the mecca for bald headed, striped shirt and blazer wearing, toolboxes? I digress…..

In true Glass Half Full fashion, we tried to revive our spirits by planting ourselves at the bar and moving on to Plan B. Deep into our discussion of how to salvage our Saturday, our bartender appeared and greeted us with “How can I get you ladies wasted tonight?” We giggled and began to relax. By the end of the evening (we closed the place down), we had forgotten all about Plan A and the fact that love was not to be found in the Gaslamp. Instead, we bonded with the bartender and each other over the fact that (his words) “we were the only normal people there”.

The silver lining to this – the bill. Ready to head home, we asked our new friend for our tab. He slid our bill across the bar with a broad smile. $8. Yes, $8. For four drinks. We happily gave him more and headed to the car.

$8 for parking and we were on the road home, ready to take off our jeans and hot tops (never to be replaced with a mini, mind you) and dream of a better outing next time. Sixteen dollars (plus tip) for good conversation and a reminder that we’re the normal ones– not a bad Saturday after all.