Posted in C-Haze, Current Events, Dating, News, Off The Wall, Porn, Pornography, Relationships, True Crime

The Stalker, the Student and the Stud

A woman was being stalked.

For three and a half years, Ruth Jeffery lived in fear. Someone, somehow, knew every detail of her intimate life. He knew her schedule, and even had access to her e-mail accounts.

Once, he posted “intimate” pictures of her on an adult website, prompting a stranger to show up, announced, at her home.

Ruth was at her wits’ end, and counted heavily on the support of her boyfriend, who she’d been dating for more than three years; a man she’d known for more than a decade.

In fact, her boyfriend, Shane Webber, was the one person she could lean on during the ordeal. “We did everything together. I would tell him everything”. She believed he was telling her everything in return.

When her stalker created an online profile that was similar to her own, and started reaching out to her friends, pretending to be her, she got scared. This person simply knew too much about her. Was it a friend? A classmate from school?

Who could do such a thing?

Ruth stopped eating, fell into a deep depression, and was filled with fear and paranoia. She began taking anti-depressants. At one point, her studies were impacted, she was so drastically affected, she had to retake her final exams.

She was suicidal, and told those closest to her, she wanted to die.

“I don’t want to be alive anymore”

 Finally, in desperation, Ruth turned to police. By this time, her harasser had pretended to be various classmates of hers, and had even hacked into her computer, sending intimate photos of her to all of her contacts from her own e-mail address. Ms. Jeffery found herself bombarded with sexually explicit photos and videos.

The desperation, depression and fear continued to spiral, Ruth was terrified, humiliated and ashamed.

Police diligently tracked the  stalker, meticulously documenting incident after incident of harassment.

At one point, authorities thought they were closing in on their perp. They arrested and interrogated a close friend of Ruth’s boyfriend. Police, briefly, believed they’d found their stalker.

They were wrong.

Undeterred, police refused to give up.

Finally, they got their break, and after nearly four years of constant harassment, arrested Ruth’s long-time boyfriend, Shane Webber.

Webber is charged with causing Harassment, Alarm or Distress.

He had been harassing, stalking and intimidating his own girlfriend for the entire time they had been dating.

He has pled guilty.

Upon hearing the news, Ruth issued a statement proclaiming, “I want him to be put in prison because he has wrecked the past three-and-a-half years of my life… I’ve known him for 10 years, so in a way it feels like the past 10 years have been wasted.”

Webber is due to be sentenced on October 6, 2011.

Posted in C-Haze, Change, Dating, Relationships, Sex, Single Mom

Steve Harvey, Standards and Dating

I have been a fan of Steve Harvey’s for years.

I loved the original Kings of Comedy, and faithfully watched the Steve Harvey Show for years.

Nowadays I listen to his radio program every morning on my way to work, and his book “Act Like a Lady, Think Like a Man” is definitely on my list of must-reads.

Recently Mr. Harvey was on Oprah promoting the book.

One of the things he talked about really struck me as a single woman.

Steve believes women have set the dating bar way too low.

I agree.

We have no standards anymore.

Harvey tells Oprah, “Women talk about [how] chivalry’s dead. Chivalry’s not dead– it’s just not required anymore”.

Again, he’s right.

Dating is tricky- it’s exhausting, and really isn’t that much fun- not for me, at least.

I hate those first few initial dates… everything is all formal and uncomfortable…

… Nervewracking.

Inevitably, just as I’m starting to feel ok around Mr. Wonderful, as I’m getting to know him better, I begin to realize…

He really isn’t all that wonderful.

Great.

Back to the drawing board.

It gets exhausting, and at times it’s hard to keep my chin up.

I find myself wondering if the problem is me… am I asking too much?

Steve Harvey believes that women need to have strict standards… and that we need to stick to them.

Personally speaking, I have 3 iron-clad requirements:

  1. He must have his own transportation
  2. He must have a job- and currently be supporting himself
  3. He must have his own place

I think my 3 criteria are pretty basic…

… But you’d be amazed.

Seems that looking for someone who has a car, a job and his own place puts me into the “picky” category.

I don’t want to date a man who lives with his parents- this inevitably means we have to spend all our time, when not out, at my house. Some days I don’t feel like cleaning. Sometimes I don’t feel like being the host. It’s nice to have options every once in a while.

I don’t want to date a man who does not have his own method of transportation. I am not willing to do all the driving anytime we go out or just want to see each other.

I don’t want to date a man who cannot support himself.

I am a single mother- I have to take care of myself and my 2 daughters.

I simply do not have the means or the energy- let alone the inclination- to take care of a grown ass man.

I have too many responsibilities of my own.

None of my requirements seem unreasonable to me… afterall, I am not asking anything of anyone that I, myself, do not have.

I have my own place.

I have my own car.

I have a job, and I support myself.

Yet, when I try and explain to people that these three requirements are non-negotiable with me, I am called a gold-digger.

Seriously.

After a while, I find myself making excuses…

“Well, we are in a recession… times are tough… it’s not so bad that he lives with his parents…”

“The job market sucks… unemployment is really high… it’s not so bad that he doesn’t have a job…”

The problem is that while lowering my standards I am  increasing my odds of actually landing a date- I am also drastically decreasing my chances of finding someone I can respect… someone whose company I can truly enjoy… someone I feel is worth getting to know.

So many of us need to remind ourselves that a relationship is not the end-all-be-all in this world.

It’s not necessary to our survival.

Let’s stop lowering our standards… let’s stop being afraid of being alone…

… And let’s show the men out there that we are women worth working hard for.

Thanks to Steve Harvey for reminding me that if chivalry’s dead, it’s only because I have killed it.

Posted in C-Haze, Dating, Relationships, Single Mom

First Dates, P. Diddy and Production Studios

I hate first dates. They are awkward and weird and I really just wish there was some way to avoid them altogether… without just not dating at all, of course.

Wouldn’t it be great if we could just skip past those few embarrassing (and let’s face it, downright scary) initial meetings and move straight to the part where you’re actually comfortable around one another?

Usually, even if I end up liking the guy in question, I tend to feel the need to fast forward through the first three dates.

This is when the situation is most perilous, and boy is the pressure on. 

During this time things could still go either way very easily… and I know if he gets food stuck in his teeth, has bad breath or propositions me for sex, he’s toast.

(Shudder)

I have serial dater friends that love those first few meetings with a new guy. They get high off of the adrenaline rush that’s produced by the prospect of finding new love… only to get tired of him after a few weeks- at which point they repeat the cycle with someone new, over and over again.

They call this fun.

I call it torture. Seriously.

I haven’t had the best of luck in the search for my dearly beloved…

There was the guy who just couldn’t commit, no matter what- his famous quote was, “Just be patient…” but when it came time to actually go for it, he never could quite pull the trigger.

Then there was “Be Patient” guy’s polar opposite- the one who wanted to move in with me after only physically laying eyes on me twice. Shit- he didn’t see the need to be patient at all.

Is there not a happy medium?

Next came the guy I thought I was meeting for dinner… only due to a mix up via text message… in showing up realized not only was he not the guy I thought I had made the date with, but was someone whose name I didn’t even know.

It was slightly uncomfortable when the main course arrived and I still had no idea who I was dining with.

That was strike one for internet dating. I realized that for the life of me, I couldn’t keep these people straight. I had to resort to keeping track of them via spreadsheet.

Not exactly romantic.

After that, there were several men back-to-back who after a few times out revealed they lived with their parents and were unemployed… in spite of being 35 years old.

In between those guys were men who kept trying to impress me by claiming to be the next P. Diddy- with their “production studios” in their basements. They scoffed at such things as traditional employment, having their own place and owning a car… claiming their big break was just around the corner…

Sigh.

I’ll never forget the people I met while out and about who asked me for my phone number, told me they were interested in me… only to later admit that they still have girlfriends… “not to worry”, they’d tell me, “I’m getting ready to dump her… I just wanted to find a replacement first”.

Ugh. As if finding a relationship is like shopping for car insurance. We certainly don’t want a lapse in coverage… err… girlfriends!

I suppose I wasn’t anticipating the challenges I’ve had… I thought the things I was looking for were pretty simple, really. 

I don’t want to get remarried, and I don’t want any more kids. I’m not looking for anything too serious… I want someone to spend time with when my daughters are at their dad’s house. I’m not looking for another father for my children, hell, I’m not even looking to introduce anyone to them…

When I try to communicate this to potential dates, they often misunderstand me, as apparently when a woman says she’s not looking for anything serious, this sounds like “I am only looking for sex.”

In spite of it all, I have decided to give this thing another try… I guess I need you to wish me luck, and usher the fairies of Positive Dating Experiences my way… cuz here I go again.

Posted in C-Haze, Dating, Relationships

A Good Reason to Stay Single

Ever since my divorce was final, I knew I would never again marry.

I pretty much based that decision on the bad taste my first marriage left in my mouth… kinda like morning breath on steroids.

In a word, it sucked.

Sure, it was nice to have someone to share the everyday burdens of life with. I liked being able to hand the kids off to him when I was completely out of patience and ready to wring their adorable little necks. I especially liked having someone around to change both my oil and the lightbulbs as needed.

As for the sex… well… nevermind.

Ultimately though- at the end of the day- the cons outweighed the pros… ten-fold.

I walked away from my divorce knowing two things- one, I was going to throw a party because it was finally over- and two, I was never and I mean never getting married again.

That’s why I found it interesting when I came across this article on msnbc. Reading it completely re-affirmed my reasons to never again do the aisle-walk thing.

Here’s another set of published stats to check out… this crap is just plain scary.

Interestingly, the timing of my coming across the msnbc article as well as the corresponding stats was perfect.

Just yesterday a dear friend of mine found out her sweetie pie had been cheating on her for the past 7 months.

She got him back… and while I don’t always condone revenge, I gotta say this one had it coming.

My friend wasn’t married… and if you read the stats, unmarried couples in monogomous relationships face the same fidelity challenges. 

Maybe, just maybe, humans aren’t meant to mate with “that one special person” for life.

Personally, I don’t like the odds, so I think I’d rather not play the game.

Back in the day, when I was younger and dumber, I remember being cheated on. It sucked more than words can describe.

It was a horrific ordeal, and I would rather stab myself in the eye with hot pokers than go through it again.

Luckily for all of us, it seems I don’t need to get into too much detail with regards to the pain infidelity causes… as the article states, approximately 1 in 5 of you, dear readers, have experienced this horrific ordeal yourselves.

To add insult to injury, it appears that of all these cheatin’ asses out there, only 2% ever actually get caught.

Therefore, as for my willingness to go there and get involved in a relationship again… 

No thank you.

I remember all too vividly the pain of realizing the one and only person I had ever trusted was being anything and everything but faithful.

Do it once, shame on them- do it twice, shame on me.

Some pals of mine say I’m just bitter… well, yea, I guess I am.

But for once, I have the numbers on my side, backin’ my ass up.

Posted in C-Haze, Funny, Humor

I Am Woman! Here Me… Meow?

If I’m completely honest with myself, I will admit that there are certain things about being married that I definitely miss. Don’t misunderstand- I do not miss HIM at all- but there were certain things that I didn’t have to do when the ex was still the hubby. Almost a year and a half later, I still scramble to get them done- and that’s assuming I even know how.
 
For example, I hate lightbulbs. Especially lightbulbs that are covered by cute little light fixtures that need dismantling in order to change them.In the eight years I was married, I cannot recall one time that I had to change a lightbulb. 

So the other day, I’m dropping my oldest daughter off at school. I’m reminding her about her lunch money, who’s picking her up after school, what we have planned for the weekend… all the while sipping on my coffee, talking on my cell phone, and trying to convince my 2 year old (who’s sitting in the back) to stop kicking my chair. My oldest daughter is successful in getting out of the car, and as I’m pulling off, mommy dearest (that’s me) slams into the curb.
Wonderful.
From that point on, my car doesn’t drive right- I’m sure I need an alignment (don’t know what the hell that is, but I’ve heard the term used in situations like this- I figure my car is now a candidate). If I want to drive straight I have to cock the wheel to the right a little… and when I’m moving, the car shakes a lot.Whatever- it still drives, right?
Yet another thing that goes on the list of shit to be dealt with… eventually.So one morning (Saturday) while the kids are at their dad’s house, another one of my friends call me. Seems he hurt his leg while working out, and can’t even move it enough to drive. He needs to get to the bank before noon, and wants to know if I’ll give him a ride. Of course I will. 

I’m a great friend, by the way.
So off I go, and pick him up. As we’re driving, he tells me my car’s riding funny. Well, duh. I cheerfully explain what happened at my daughter’s school, with the curb. I even told him that I am certain I need an alignment (didn’t share that I don’t even know what that is. That, folks, stays between us).
He disagrees. I apparently don’t need an alignment. Instead, I seem to have something (and I’m positive this is a technical term) called a “titty” in my tire.Well what the hell does he know? He’s just a man. Plus, he can’t move his leg. Clearly, he’s not that smart anyway.So I roll my eyes, tell him to shut up, take him to the bank, then drop him back off at his place. He leaves me with this warning- “not only do you have a titty in that tire- but it’s bald. The threads are showing. You need a new tire, otherwise you’re going to have a blow out”.I figure, what the hell does he know? I’ve already diagnosed the problem. It is not a titty. That’s a female body part, not a car issue. MY problem is that I need an alignment. Silly man.
So I head home, case closed. Or so I thought.When I got home, I couldn’t get the term “titty” out of my head… so to aleviate my fears, I take a peek at my tire.OMG, there are THREADS- little silver ones- poking out! Dammit, that can’t be good, right? I reluctantly realize, my friend is right.

Where the hell’s my friends when I need them?? I hop in my car, as clearly, the only responsible thing to do is to get a brand new tire, right?

I took my butt to the tire place (and don’t you worry, folks- I was MORE than prepared for those jerks to tell my I need to top off my blinker fluid. They try to screw me, on account of my being female. Little did they know, I JUST had my blinker fluid topped off at my last oil change. My turn signals were working just fine, thank you (hee hee)) and had my tire changed. The difference was miraculous. Seriously. When I got in my car, it drove BEAUTIFULLY!! Who knew that the problem is actually a titty?!?! I don’t need an alignment after all (whatever that is)!!

So I drive home, very proud. I don’t need no stinkin’ man. I can get a new tire all by my self, thank you very much!

I AM WOMAN!! HEAR ME ROAR!!

Once home, I walk inside my house, check my e-mail, and lay down on the couch for the Law and Order: SVU marathon.

I’ve had a long day- having major work done on my car, and all- so I promptly fall asleep.

BANG, BANG, BANG on my sliding glass door is what wakes me up. I jump off the couch… “what the…???”

Standing outside my door is the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen in my life. I’m not kiddin’ y’all. This man is gorgeous. Sucks for me, because I’m in sweatpants- and I have chicken hair, on account of I’ve been snoozin’ on my couch for the last 2 hours.

I answer the door, very curious as to what this magnificent specimen could want with me…

“Hey lady… just thought you should know- your car’s been runnin’ an awfully long time”
OMG.

“I saw you when you pulled up- thought you must be comin’ right back out… but it’s been awhile, and your car’s still runnin'”.

I left my car running- in my own parking lot- for two hours.

I quit. I’m gettin’ married again.

 

 

Posted in C-Haze, Dating, Funny, Humor, Relationships

God is a comedian, and Other Dating Lessons Learned

We all meet people here and there… on myspace, at the grocery store, a bar, wherever. If you happen to be single, and dating people, you’ll likely give your phone number to that lucky man/woman who caught your eye. Hopefully they’ll call (or these days- text), but sometimes they don’t. Othertimes they do, but for various reasons, we decide we’re really not that into this person after all. Or perhaps they aren’t interested in us, and over time, the communication stops.

When this would happen to me, I used to simply delete the number from my phone. Doesn’t everybody? Well actually I guess I know the answer to that question… I am learning that people put my number in their phones with the intention of allowing it to remain there for all eternity. This can make for some awkward times, especially as the men I tend to meet are big texters. It isn’t as if they’re calling, and I can pick up on who they are by the sound of their voices. Once or twice a week I find myself getting a random text message from someone I have long since deleted from my phone. When this initially began to happen, I would text the person back with a simple but polite, “who is this?” I soon realized that this is a great way to piss people off. When people are putting my number into their phone (again, for all eternity), they are apparently under the assumption that I am doing the same. So when I have the gall to ask who they may be, I tend to get cussed out.

Bearing this in mind, I recently decided to change my tactic. When I would receive these random messages, if I was curious enough to know who’s sending the message, I would respond back with a “hey- how have you been?”. I’d just act like I knew who it was, with the idea being that over the course of our back and forth messaging, they would say something, or refer to something that would make the lightbulb go off in my head- and I would have that sudden “aha!” moment. I can then make my decision as to whether or not to continue chatting with him. Either way, I now know who I’m getting the messages from, and I can therefore choose my course of action- to continue to communicate, or not.

So, the other day, I get this random message from yet another number I do not recognize… “hey you- do you miss me?” Clearly, to respond with, “who’s this?” would be inappropriate. So I text him back, “where you been?” Surely his response will jog my memory…

Throughout the course of the day, we continue texting back and forth… small talk, and I continue to wrack my brain trying to figure out who the hell this man is. His number is vaguely familiar… his name is right on the tip of my tongue… WAIT!! It’s “Steve”!! Whew, that was close! I remember “Steve”… he was the guy I saw a few times all those months ago, who apparently dropped off the face of the earth- or broke his fingers- because he stopped calling.

So “Steve” has apparently awaken from his coma… and is asking me out. He wants me to meet him after work at this trendy little spot up the street from my office. I agree, thinking, why not? Not like I have anything else going on tonight.

I pull up, walk inside… searching, searching… where is he? Suddenly, out of the corner of my eye, I see someone waving, and can hear him calling my name- “Chrissy! I’m over here…” Slowly I turn in that direction, and realize, to my horror… it is most definitely NOT “Steve” that’s waving at me. In fact, it is not anyone I know, nor is it anyone I ever remember even laying eyes on. Now what?

I’ve never been known to do things the simple way- which would have been to walk up to the guy, explain that there’s been a big misunderstanding and admit that I have no clue who the hell he is. Instead, I took a deep breath, put on my best oh-my-God-it’s-so-good-to-see-you-again face and boldly walked over to the table he’d reserved. As soon as I sit down, I realize I’ve likely made a mistake, and should have run the moment I realized I’m meeting a total stranger. Who the heck IS this guy, anyway??

I am feeling pretty awkward by the time our food arrives, as I still have not succeeded in figuring out this man’s name, nor has he said one word about himself that has triggered even the smallest spark of recognition. However, I’m Chrissy, the Hard-Headed One, and I am still not ready to rat myself out. Suddenly, between bites of yummy seafood, I get a plan. I’m so sneaky! I calmly ask him, “so, do you have any nicknames? I love hearing about people’s nicknames, and where they came from, because I think it’s a peak into their personalities…” Pretty slick, huh? I say a silent prayer… let’s hope his nickname is Chris, because his real name is Christopher, or something equally simple. That way, problem solved, I will KNOW who I’m sitting with!

He pauses… mouth disgustingly full of food. He slowly puts his fork down, swallows (I swear I could HEAR the gulping noise it made), looks me in the eye and says… “you don’t have a clue who I am, do you?” BUSTED! I momentarily considered playing the, how-dare-you-accuse-me-of-going-out-to-dinner-with-a-man-I-was-only-pretending-to-know card, but really, what was the point? Instead, I lower my head, shovel another forkful of food into my own mouth and admit, “nope. I have no idea…”

I learned a few things that night. First, God is a comedian. Second, I am not nearly as slick as I thought I was. Third, never delete another person’s number from my phone.

For those of you that are curious… the answer is no. I never heard from him again.