Since July, a lot has happened. I'm happy to report that I am now a Corporate Fashion Recruiter for a major fashion line and professionally I'm exactly where I want to be. Through my last job I met a man who was one of my best guy friends and I never expected it to lead to such an amazing relationship.
I've always pictured my "perfect man" and let me just tell you, I had it all wrong until now. Nothing can replace the fact that we were friends first. We have the ability to communicate better than I have in any other relationship. The relationships built on lust, sex, passion tend to fade... Mine has been built on friendship, communication and loyalty. That's something that I can't place a value on and is my most exciting findings yet.
He's "not my type" which I have learned is the sexiest part about him. He values me, treats me how I want to be treated and above all values me more than just "being sexy." I learned I was my greatest enemy when evaluating "who was right for me" because in the end, they weren't. He's the best surprise I've ever had.
To my single ladies, look again at your best guy friends and evaluate why they are in your life. Are they easy to be around? Do they make you laugh? Do they look out for you? Are they gentlemen? Because that will carry you into your later adulthood far more than a sexy guy at a bar that "meets your requirements." They'll still love you for YOU when you start having insecurities about your body and your age and will stick by you in the long run.
Happy hunting and love yourself, the right man will love you for YOU.
Xo.
Thursday, February 13, 2014
Wednesday, July 10, 2013
Check out my ball handling skills.
When professional basketball players go to take a jump shot they have to first set their feet before they can take the shot otherwise, they're likely to miss it. Doesn't matter how slick their ball handling skills are unless they have the proper footing for the shot. Building a foundations in my life is essential for me to be able to thrive. I relate to this in my yoga practice as well. If you don't have the proper footing, you can not work into the most difficult poses without falling out of them due to imbalance.
"Do you wish to be great? Then begin by being. Do you desire to construct a vast and lofty fabric? Think first about the foundations of humility. The higher your structure is to be, the deeper must be its foundation." - Saint Augustine
It may be a simple concept but one that I recently have given a lot of thought when making life decisions. For some, their foundation is their religion; it governs their lives, gives them answers to plaguing questions they have about life, for others it can be family relationships, being monetarily sound, or comfort in the familiar. In my late twenties I have really encouraged myself to figure out what my foundation truely is.
The core elements of my foundation are the following: Location, Fitness, Friendship, Mental/Emotional Stability, Humor.
This entry will touch on Location.
After graduating from TCU (GO FROGS!) in 2007, I followed a boyfriend to Boston. At the time, he was in his first year of dental school and I being a new graduate had the flexibility to move anywhere. I had always wanted to live in Boston so this move felt like a natural next step. I left all my college girlfriends and moved into a region where TCU ties were scarse at the time. With no job, direction, friends...my foundation was my boyfriend. Which I thought was totally okay considering our first date he told me he knew in his gut he had found his future wife in me...
"Do you wish to be great? Then begin by being. Do you desire to construct a vast and lofty fabric? Think first about the foundations of humility. The higher your structure is to be, the deeper must be its foundation." - Saint Augustine
It may be a simple concept but one that I recently have given a lot of thought when making life decisions. For some, their foundation is their religion; it governs their lives, gives them answers to plaguing questions they have about life, for others it can be family relationships, being monetarily sound, or comfort in the familiar. In my late twenties I have really encouraged myself to figure out what my foundation truely is.
The core elements of my foundation are the following: Location, Fitness, Friendship, Mental/Emotional Stability, Humor.
This entry will touch on Location.
After graduating from TCU (GO FROGS!) in 2007, I followed a boyfriend to Boston. At the time, he was in his first year of dental school and I being a new graduate had the flexibility to move anywhere. I had always wanted to live in Boston so this move felt like a natural next step. I left all my college girlfriends and moved into a region where TCU ties were scarse at the time. With no job, direction, friends...my foundation was my boyfriend. Which I thought was totally okay considering our first date he told me he knew in his gut he had found his future wife in me...
This would not be the only time in my life that I made this mistake... allowing my boyfriend to be my foundation. I allowed it to happen when a different boyfriend called me hysterically crying after I was out of town for 4 days for work in New York. He flew out after trying to break up with me "due to the long distance" and then 48 hours later I find myself standing in Tiffany's in New York trying on engagement rings. An act that was founded in his insecurities about me having a job that gave me the flexibility to travel. All of a sudden, I felt pressure to make a decision - my dream position in a up and coming retailer or to chose "my future husband." Blinded by love, I made a career choice that included a brutal pay cut with a different retailer that had flexible hours enabling me to "be home more." And we moved in together under his roof on his dollar.
FOR WHAT?! So I could be there to read lines with him every night, clean and do laundry. Oh and to wait up for him when he decided he would come home at night -- after hanging out with his "new friends" which consisted of a bunch of D-List celebrities til all hours of the morning.
Diamonds and fake proposals are dangerous little shits.
... now, I'm still living in California (one of my foundation goals since college), in a place that is safe, central to most aspects of my life and near my work with a grounded couple for roommates (that alone kept me relatively grounded when I wanted to go buckwild post break up.)
Never again will I be choosing my living situation (or work situation) based on a guy. I have spoken with alot of my girlfriends who enable their boyfriends careers, wants and aspirations to dedicate where they live. Sometimes it works out, but remember, being a supportive girlfriend doesn't mean you give up your life - needs, wants and aspirations just because you want to gain points for being supportive. My location now has me surrounded my 10 + incredible women who I can call up anytime. Who are my core strength and a pillar of support that will not fail me. I have a stable job that enables me to live without having a boyfriend who's waving dollars over my head to gain power in the relationship and I can live freely to do whatever I need to continue to build my personal foundation.
"Later that day I got to thinking about relationships. There are those that open you up to something new and exotic, those that are old and familir, those that bring up lots of questions, those that bring you somewhere unexpected, those that bring you far from where you started and those that bring you back. But the most exciting, challenging and significant relationship of all if the one you have with yourself. And if you can find someone to love the you you love, well, that's just fabulous." - Sex in the City.
xx -
Steph
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Drop down and get your eagle on.
Alot of the time we are caught up in how far we aren't going rather than allowing ourselves to remain in the present moment... This thought is founded from my daily yoga practice from today.
As yogi's we are encouraged to focus on clearing our minds, controling our breath, deepening and strengthening each pose, and to the dedication of our practice - enabling us to open our hearts. We learn to let go of the past, to not fret about the future and to live in the present moment.
By all means, I have to agree that especially for someone like myself who is goal-oriented, impatient and ambitious this is the greatest struggle for me. I am competitive with myself especially in my yoga practice. This allows me to be highly focused in a class and to deepen poses and gain muscle mass which aesthetically and mobility wise, I am pleased with. Now, I'm onto the next phase of my practice which is to apply the teachings to my life.
Like most 28 year old females I feel the pressure from family to "find someone and settle down," "find the most profittable profession so I can begin saving," "consider freezing my eggs in case I want children"; there's quite a bit of added pressure to not only be a top dog financially, physically, and to have an equal counterpart who wants to procreate with me.
WAIT. STOP.
This is the first time in my entire life where I am completely self aware, able to look at life objectively and appreciate who I have become as a woman. I think so many women feel pressured into marriage and babies (not all or the majority, but there are some) before they even know their true selves. I too have dated guys in the past and "tried to be the right type of woman for them." LADIES, why do we do this? It's so completely unattractive to have someone who doesn't challenge you, encourage you to be your own person and who is attempting to mold you into the type of person they think they want rather than accepting you. HOWEVER, before you shake fingers at the males, ladies, we're the ones who allow them to do so.
If a relationship no longer serves it's purpose of making you happy - LEAVE. I assure you, there will be some one who treats you better in the horizon.
If you feel overweight, hate your job or the town you live in; explore what activities you can do to better yourself and your situation, adjust your attitude, it's the only thing you have power to change no matter the circumstance. - Don't be a stagnant person.
Don't have the perfect boyfriend or husband? STOP LOOKING. Allow the person you want to end up with to fall inlove with you when you are your best version of yourself. If they don't find you, it won't matter because you'll be so pleased with yourself to notice.
When women stop competing with each other and support, love and befriend each other it makes being single the perfect place to be.
Work wise? Yes, I have varying interests, would love to be more financially sound and to have a high powered position (as I have always managed people) however, careers, take time to grow and develop like that of my daily yoga practice, a marriage, or raising a child.
Rather than beating yourself up over "where you AREN'T," appreciate where and who you are at this very moment. You'll never be in this moment again. It's alot easier to handle disappointments when you stop projecting expectations outside of what you can control. Meet every challenge with peace and positivity and watch who wants to be around you rather than who you have to seek out.
Fighting the good fight with y'all,
Ohm.
Steph
Sunday, June 16, 2013
The Best Man I've Ever Known. - Dave Sherwood
Happy Father's Day to the greatest man I've ever known. Dave Sherwood.
First, some background on my dad. Dave Sherwood is from Clark, South Dakota, a town of 1,000 people; mostly potato farmers. My grandfather Stephan Dewitt "SD" Sherwood was the only Lawyer in the town, my grandmother Mavis Augusta (seriously, what baby is named that. Sorry Grandma) having an 8th grade education and 3 children: David, Steven and Shelly. My dad, the oldest of three, was a bit of a rebel. Long hair (don't care), lead singer of a rock band, wrestling Varsity in High School, was determined to get the hell out of Clark as soon as possible. After a couple failed attempts at the straight and narrow, dad put himself through college working nights at The Holiday Inn. He would eat off of food trays from room service to survive. After graduation, made his way down to Tucson, Az prompted from seeing a post card at the Black Hills State University gift shop. My dad and his hippie wife at the time road tripped it down to Tucson and he started working as a loan officer at Pima Savings (where he later met my mom - oh heyyyyy giirlllll). After both first marriages for my parents sizzled out, dad was waiting at the finish line to snag my mom.
3 years of dating and a golden retriever later, Dad and mom got married in Sedona, Arizona with only a pastor and a witness present. Dad wore a mustache and a light blue suit with a vest that didn't button over his little belly. Mom wore a silk puffy blouse, brown Farrah Fawcett locks and a maroon high waisted skirt. Talk about some gems.
At 33, my dad was now working as a young stock broker, married to my mom with a baby on the way when he drove himself to the hospital for having sharp chest pains. My dad had to under go open heart surgery. "The likelihood that he will live long enough to know his daughter into adulthood is slim" said the doctors and my mom prepared herself for the possibility of being a single mom. Now, providing a private school education through college for his only daughter, a house in Cobblestone, a vacation home in Pinetop (which my mom gutted and remodeled to her liking), several luxury vehicles and funding for girls chorus tours to the UK, Canada, Germany and school trips to the British Virgin Islands, Italy and Alaska... I'm sure financially, this was not what he had planned on. My dad has solely provided for my mom, me and my two grand mothers a life that was close to royalty. He's not a "man's man" in the sense that he doesn't drink, play golf (anymore due to a competitive fit that ended with the clubs in the bottom of a lake), and after having open heart surgery at 33 is not a cigar smoker. As he says "I would be a hermit if it wasn't for your mother." I call b.s. on that due to the fact that he befriends every one at the supermarket, the dry cleaners and every restuarant server/manager of my parents favorite places to eat.
Growing up, my mom did very minimal cooking. Dad would either pick up dinner or we would go out to eat so that's where my expensive taste in food and lack of cooking skills comes from. I'm not complaining, mom is great in the kitchen during holidays, but she busies herself cleaning every inch of the house... so eatting out saved her from doing dishes.
Every saturday morning, dad and I would go run errands. Dry cleaners, dad's office, grocery store, and if "I was good," Toys R Us or to see the puppies at the Humane Society. Several Nano pets, polly pockets and "little Pet Shop" toys later, I was more interested in finding us the perfect pet. Our golden retreiver Sam had been banned to the back yard due to a sheading problem that didn't fit my mom's needs for cleanliness and I was determined to "have a little dog I can hold." That's when we found "Lady." I can't tell you how utterly ridiculous it is that while I'm typing her name my eyes fill up with tears. The Sherwoods LOVED Lady. But, that didn't happen until Dad and I did some convincing. Fast forward 7 years, Lady lived in the house, howling like a coyote on the couch with Dad, propping up next to him for hours to watch football. Lady loved being rubbed as much as mom does, so they bonded over that and I had a dog that slept between my legs at night, explored the desert with me and would run alongside as I rode my bike around the neighborhood. Lady had alot of health problems. Twisted rib cage, enlarged heart, valley fever... after thousands of dollars were but into the health and maintenance of this dog my dad asked my mom "how much money are you willing to put into this dog?" My mom's dead face response "A million dollars." So, Lady was coined the Million Dog. This is one example of Dad doing whatever it takes to "keep his girls happy."
At my Cotillion, dad and I had so much fun goofing off during ball room dancing rehearsals that by the time we got to the ball, we made it up as we went along. "Don't worry Steph, your debutante dress is big enough that no one will see our feet, just follow my lead."
My dad is the one I call if I'm injured: "Dad, I don't want to alarm you but I just burnt the hell out of my hand and I'm driving myself to the emergency room." Dad is the one I call for the level-headed response post-break up, if I've needed help financially (Dad, I have a dollar to my name and I just bought a piece of gum so I may be overdrawn, please help), or if I want to tell him about a work related event that I'm proud of. My dad is THE WORST to take a guy home to because he will welcome any guy I bring to my door with open arms. This is just heartbreaking when you realize the guys you bring home don't measure up anywhere close to your dad. No boyfriend I have ever brought home has agreed to my dad's mentality of "whatever the girls want is fine by me." He wants so badly for me and my mom to be happy. I know if he could go out himself and find the guy most like him, he would. Unfortunately, like my dad, I'm stubborn, so I wouldnt give him the time of day anyways. My dad is a Virgo and I have dated FOUR Virgos since college thinking they would be like my dad. Boy, was I wrong. I have come to learn that my dad is by far the best out there, and a very special type of Virgo. Best dad, best husband, best pet owner and my biggest supporter (tied with mom of course).
First, some background on my dad. Dave Sherwood is from Clark, South Dakota, a town of 1,000 people; mostly potato farmers. My grandfather Stephan Dewitt "SD" Sherwood was the only Lawyer in the town, my grandmother Mavis Augusta (seriously, what baby is named that. Sorry Grandma) having an 8th grade education and 3 children: David, Steven and Shelly. My dad, the oldest of three, was a bit of a rebel. Long hair (don't care), lead singer of a rock band, wrestling Varsity in High School, was determined to get the hell out of Clark as soon as possible. After a couple failed attempts at the straight and narrow, dad put himself through college working nights at The Holiday Inn. He would eat off of food trays from room service to survive. After graduation, made his way down to Tucson, Az prompted from seeing a post card at the Black Hills State University gift shop. My dad and his hippie wife at the time road tripped it down to Tucson and he started working as a loan officer at Pima Savings (where he later met my mom - oh heyyyyy giirlllll). After both first marriages for my parents sizzled out, dad was waiting at the finish line to snag my mom.
3 years of dating and a golden retriever later, Dad and mom got married in Sedona, Arizona with only a pastor and a witness present. Dad wore a mustache and a light blue suit with a vest that didn't button over his little belly. Mom wore a silk puffy blouse, brown Farrah Fawcett locks and a maroon high waisted skirt. Talk about some gems.
At 33, my dad was now working as a young stock broker, married to my mom with a baby on the way when he drove himself to the hospital for having sharp chest pains. My dad had to under go open heart surgery. "The likelihood that he will live long enough to know his daughter into adulthood is slim" said the doctors and my mom prepared herself for the possibility of being a single mom. Now, providing a private school education through college for his only daughter, a house in Cobblestone, a vacation home in Pinetop (which my mom gutted and remodeled to her liking), several luxury vehicles and funding for girls chorus tours to the UK, Canada, Germany and school trips to the British Virgin Islands, Italy and Alaska... I'm sure financially, this was not what he had planned on. My dad has solely provided for my mom, me and my two grand mothers a life that was close to royalty. He's not a "man's man" in the sense that he doesn't drink, play golf (anymore due to a competitive fit that ended with the clubs in the bottom of a lake), and after having open heart surgery at 33 is not a cigar smoker. As he says "I would be a hermit if it wasn't for your mother." I call b.s. on that due to the fact that he befriends every one at the supermarket, the dry cleaners and every restuarant server/manager of my parents favorite places to eat.
Growing up, my mom did very minimal cooking. Dad would either pick up dinner or we would go out to eat so that's where my expensive taste in food and lack of cooking skills comes from. I'm not complaining, mom is great in the kitchen during holidays, but she busies herself cleaning every inch of the house... so eatting out saved her from doing dishes.
Every saturday morning, dad and I would go run errands. Dry cleaners, dad's office, grocery store, and if "I was good," Toys R Us or to see the puppies at the Humane Society. Several Nano pets, polly pockets and "little Pet Shop" toys later, I was more interested in finding us the perfect pet. Our golden retreiver Sam had been banned to the back yard due to a sheading problem that didn't fit my mom's needs for cleanliness and I was determined to "have a little dog I can hold." That's when we found "Lady." I can't tell you how utterly ridiculous it is that while I'm typing her name my eyes fill up with tears. The Sherwoods LOVED Lady. But, that didn't happen until Dad and I did some convincing. Fast forward 7 years, Lady lived in the house, howling like a coyote on the couch with Dad, propping up next to him for hours to watch football. Lady loved being rubbed as much as mom does, so they bonded over that and I had a dog that slept between my legs at night, explored the desert with me and would run alongside as I rode my bike around the neighborhood. Lady had alot of health problems. Twisted rib cage, enlarged heart, valley fever... after thousands of dollars were but into the health and maintenance of this dog my dad asked my mom "how much money are you willing to put into this dog?" My mom's dead face response "A million dollars." So, Lady was coined the Million Dog. This is one example of Dad doing whatever it takes to "keep his girls happy."
At my Cotillion, dad and I had so much fun goofing off during ball room dancing rehearsals that by the time we got to the ball, we made it up as we went along. "Don't worry Steph, your debutante dress is big enough that no one will see our feet, just follow my lead."
My dad is the one I call if I'm injured: "Dad, I don't want to alarm you but I just burnt the hell out of my hand and I'm driving myself to the emergency room." Dad is the one I call for the level-headed response post-break up, if I've needed help financially (Dad, I have a dollar to my name and I just bought a piece of gum so I may be overdrawn, please help), or if I want to tell him about a work related event that I'm proud of. My dad is THE WORST to take a guy home to because he will welcome any guy I bring to my door with open arms. This is just heartbreaking when you realize the guys you bring home don't measure up anywhere close to your dad. No boyfriend I have ever brought home has agreed to my dad's mentality of "whatever the girls want is fine by me." He wants so badly for me and my mom to be happy. I know if he could go out himself and find the guy most like him, he would. Unfortunately, like my dad, I'm stubborn, so I wouldnt give him the time of day anyways. My dad is a Virgo and I have dated FOUR Virgos since college thinking they would be like my dad. Boy, was I wrong. I have come to learn that my dad is by far the best out there, and a very special type of Virgo. Best dad, best husband, best pet owner and my biggest supporter (tied with mom of course).
Dave Sherwood is loud, highly opinionated, extremist, confident, conservative, funny, goofy, loveable and my twin. We look alike, we're both boardline lunatics with the activities we do and we're not afraid to voice our opinions on anything. We both like to take control of situations, be the center of attention and have the best story...basically you either love us or roll your eyes at us. Through and through he is my father and I can't imagine what life would be like without his nods of approvals for my outfits, his scoldings of my poor spending habits or his unlimited amount of love, patience and support. I'm so grateful to know him, have him on my team and be there for my mom everyday. If I never have a husband like him, I will know that I witnessed true love between my dad and mom and I don't know many people who can say that about their parents. He has stood by her, been there through thick and thin and treats his wife how every wife should be treated.
I love you, Dad. Happy Father's Day to the best man I'll ever know.
Snuf.
Friday, June 14, 2013
Always Be My Bay-Bay.
My favorite dating story to tell was when I was in 5th grade at Armstrong Academy in Tucson, Arizona. At the time, I had alot of crushes on boys in my class or boys who I was "determined to date/marry" (Jonathon Taylor Thomas) but I never had a boy that I can remember who really "liked" me until Oli.
From what I was told back in 5th grade, Oliver had stayed home sick one day from school and phoned into a controversial/edgy rock station to find out "How to ask out the cute girl at his school." The radio show "THE HOG," could be compared to Howard Stern's show and frequently discussed the taboo, touching on vulger and scandalous topics. Oliver's request struck a cord with these "Bad boy DJ's" and that's when Oliver's troubles began.
The DJ's decided to call Armstrong Academy requesting that Stephanie Sherwood come to the phone because they had a caller on the air who wanted to ask her a question. The secretary hearing that two grown men were calling for a fifth grade student during class hours refused the phone call and notified our Principal. They proceeded to call my home, speak to my Grandmother "Birdie" who simply explained "Stephanie can't come to the phone right now, she's at school."
The DJ's had offered a magical first date for myself and Oli. We were to be picked up by limo, shuttled to dinner and a movie of our choice and then Oli was to report back to the DJ's "about how the date went." Trouble was, my principal heard all of this and immediately got on the air requesting that the radio footage be removed from the taping and for Oliver to publicly apologize for putting myself, my family and the school "in danger."
They agreed apon me being called into the principal's office with Oliver so he could explain what he did and formally apologize to me. I was called into the principals office... 50 lbs of little Steph Sherwood with braces and overalls panicing over what I could have done to be in such a terrible predictament. "THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE? Ohhhh man, mom and dad are going to be soooo mad."
I sat down across from this tall and handsome 6th grade boy who was easily three feet taller than me. His head was down, his knees glued together in his short 90's style shorts and graphic tshirt; fingers tightly crossed. Immediately, Principal Armstrong said "Stephanie, this boy has an apology for you." He told me nervously without eye contact that he had called the radio station to figure out how to ask me to be his girlfriend and that it "got out of hand" and he was so very sorry. Restraining every bit of adoration I had for this poor guy's attempt to take me on what sounded like a really fun first date I accepted his apology AND to my principal's surprise...his request to be my boyfriend.
Oliver and I "were together" for that school year until we split to go to different middle school's. I used to sing in the car with mom to Mariah Carrey, "You'll always be my Bay-bay," thinking of my time with Oli and reminiscing about the year at Armstrong. I was the only one in 5th grade who had a "serious boyfriend" and felt maybe it was too soon to go "long distance" at different schools. My mother cried...no, she SOBBED when I broke up with Oli and for a minute... for weeks, months, years... I thought that she might never forgive me for "ending it."
Now Oliver is a successful photographer in New York shooting all over the world and appearing at every music and arts festival. He's full of life, spunk and one of the greatest people I know. Who knew I would have had it so good had my middle school priorities not been "so twisted."
:)
Xo - Steph
From what I was told back in 5th grade, Oliver had stayed home sick one day from school and phoned into a controversial/edgy rock station to find out "How to ask out the cute girl at his school." The radio show "THE HOG," could be compared to Howard Stern's show and frequently discussed the taboo, touching on vulger and scandalous topics. Oliver's request struck a cord with these "Bad boy DJ's" and that's when Oliver's troubles began.
The DJ's decided to call Armstrong Academy requesting that Stephanie Sherwood come to the phone because they had a caller on the air who wanted to ask her a question. The secretary hearing that two grown men were calling for a fifth grade student during class hours refused the phone call and notified our Principal. They proceeded to call my home, speak to my Grandmother "Birdie" who simply explained "Stephanie can't come to the phone right now, she's at school."
The DJ's had offered a magical first date for myself and Oli. We were to be picked up by limo, shuttled to dinner and a movie of our choice and then Oli was to report back to the DJ's "about how the date went." Trouble was, my principal heard all of this and immediately got on the air requesting that the radio footage be removed from the taping and for Oliver to publicly apologize for putting myself, my family and the school "in danger."
They agreed apon me being called into the principal's office with Oliver so he could explain what he did and formally apologize to me. I was called into the principals office... 50 lbs of little Steph Sherwood with braces and overalls panicing over what I could have done to be in such a terrible predictament. "THE PRINCIPAL'S OFFICE? Ohhhh man, mom and dad are going to be soooo mad."
I sat down across from this tall and handsome 6th grade boy who was easily three feet taller than me. His head was down, his knees glued together in his short 90's style shorts and graphic tshirt; fingers tightly crossed. Immediately, Principal Armstrong said "Stephanie, this boy has an apology for you." He told me nervously without eye contact that he had called the radio station to figure out how to ask me to be his girlfriend and that it "got out of hand" and he was so very sorry. Restraining every bit of adoration I had for this poor guy's attempt to take me on what sounded like a really fun first date I accepted his apology AND to my principal's surprise...his request to be my boyfriend.
Oliver and I "were together" for that school year until we split to go to different middle school's. I used to sing in the car with mom to Mariah Carrey, "You'll always be my Bay-bay," thinking of my time with Oli and reminiscing about the year at Armstrong. I was the only one in 5th grade who had a "serious boyfriend" and felt maybe it was too soon to go "long distance" at different schools. My mother cried...no, she SOBBED when I broke up with Oli and for a minute... for weeks, months, years... I thought that she might never forgive me for "ending it."
Now Oliver is a successful photographer in New York shooting all over the world and appearing at every music and arts festival. He's full of life, spunk and one of the greatest people I know. Who knew I would have had it so good had my middle school priorities not been "so twisted."
:)
Xo - Steph
Monday, June 10, 2013
DATE ME...if you want to be FAMOUS.
Let me preface this post by saying this is not a Taylor Swift style bashing of the exes; it is merely a post that will make any other girl high five themselves that they don't have to date in LA.
People say you can not fall inlove in LA, I say, quite the contrary! You can fall inlove with just about anyone for about 30 seconds. What the challenge in a city of Actors, Models, Entrepreneurs, Rockstars, Porn Stars, Managers, is you really never know what you're actually signing up for... especially when you start dating someone.
Here's the first problem. I am an only child, a daddy's girl and shamelessly outgoing. So when you grow up being the loudest laugh, the president of every club, the lead roles in the musicals and having a very charmed up bringing, not only is it difficult to find those similiarities in another person... it's made for quite the stories. As my friend Rocky always says "Well, at least you've never dated anyone boring." Ain't that the truth.
My first taste of the LA dating scene was with a guy who wasn't even living in LA at the time. I had really celebrated myself for "how cool" I played it with this guy. We were long distance (which is a constant running joke with my guyfriends since every relationship post college I've had has begun with a guy in another state); him living in Southern California and me at the time living in Arizona. It was a newer relationship, I thought he was cute "but not too cute" like my past boyfriends. He was charming, funny, quirky, had great taste in music, also! we have mutual friends and he lived in a state I was being promoted to in a matter of months. The Holy Grail? I thought so.
A couple weeks into my move to LA, I'm texting with him about when we would see each other now only being 2-3 hours apart. We threw around a couple weekends (which of course I'm acting super passive about because I actually WANT to see him so of course, I have to appear disinterested.) Come valentines day, about a month into my move I get a text from him that he's going to be in LA the following weekend. In my head I'm celebrating with sweet dance moves and firework explosions... my text response is "Oh, sweet. Maybe we'll grab a drink one night." And then it began.
He texted me to let me know he was picked for a popular dating reality tv show and that the filming started the weekend he was here. I clearly wished him the best of luck and then went for a run that could have qualified me for world record timing had I been keeping track. So, twice a week for a couple months I was able to watch this guy date another woman, profess his love for her and eventually propose to her to be REJECTED. My first thought was... KARMA! AND THEN? he was on the next season as the token male.
I found this out from my best friend in Arizona while on a hike with my most recent television personality ex-boyfriend. So, thankfully, I did not have to painfully sit through the second season because I was *sigh* inlove and without a care in the world running the beach with who I thought was my future husband.
People say you can not fall inlove in LA, I say, quite the contrary! You can fall inlove with just about anyone for about 30 seconds. What the challenge in a city of Actors, Models, Entrepreneurs, Rockstars, Porn Stars, Managers, is you really never know what you're actually signing up for... especially when you start dating someone.
I am a hopeless romantic. I have grown up watching my parents be absolutely inseperable. I distinctly remember sitting with my dad to gloat over how stunning my mother was for every gala, Angel/Heart ball or black tie event they attended in the late 80's/early 90's. My dad would say, "Here comes my trophy wife!" To this day, 30 plus years later, my dad will still go for a butt pinch in public, talk about how sexy and amazing my mom is and he can still make her giggle like a teenager. My parents were placed on this earth as versions of the same person and my life long challenge has been to mirror the type of relationship they have.
Here's the first problem. I am an only child, a daddy's girl and shamelessly outgoing. So when you grow up being the loudest laugh, the president of every club, the lead roles in the musicals and having a very charmed up bringing, not only is it difficult to find those similiarities in another person... it's made for quite the stories. As my friend Rocky always says "Well, at least you've never dated anyone boring." Ain't that the truth.
My first taste of the LA dating scene was with a guy who wasn't even living in LA at the time. I had really celebrated myself for "how cool" I played it with this guy. We were long distance (which is a constant running joke with my guyfriends since every relationship post college I've had has begun with a guy in another state); him living in Southern California and me at the time living in Arizona. It was a newer relationship, I thought he was cute "but not too cute" like my past boyfriends. He was charming, funny, quirky, had great taste in music, also! we have mutual friends and he lived in a state I was being promoted to in a matter of months. The Holy Grail? I thought so.
I found this out from my best friend in Arizona while on a hike with my most recent television personality ex-boyfriend. So, thankfully, I did not have to painfully sit through the second season because I was *sigh* inlove and without a care in the world running the beach with who I thought was my future husband.
Fast forward, 8 months into our relationship, my new guy landed a spot on a soap opera. What I have come to learn about guys in the industry, especially ones who are attractive is that they tend to become puppets to their managers; brutally self absorbed and every story starts with who they're "now friends with" or how many followers they have on twitter.
In a matter of 4 months, I watched my (now ex) boyfriend lock lips, undress and marry a girl on television who was barely 21, abandon his friends and business partners who were not in the industry and I was told by his "management team" that I was no longer allowed to be associated with him. Basically, I can sum it up in a few quotes: "Stephanie, he needs to appear available to his fans;" "I don't think you're strong enough to date a celebrity;" and my favorite one "If you really love him, you'll disappear."
In a matter of 4 months, I watched my (now ex) boyfriend lock lips, undress and marry a girl on television who was barely 21, abandon his friends and business partners who were not in the industry and I was told by his "management team" that I was no longer allowed to be associated with him. Basically, I can sum it up in a few quotes: "Stephanie, he needs to appear available to his fans;" "I don't think you're strong enough to date a celebrity;" and my favorite one "If you really love him, you'll disappear."
Now this "celebrity" is co-leasing an AUDI R8, has been killed off the show and is an online host for a web channel I didn't even know existed. Moral of the story is, you can't judge a book (or a man) by its cover here in LA. They're FULL of surprises. Surprises come in forms of a lack of character, surprise religions, children in other countries and debilitating gambling addictions... let's just say, you're girl knows how to pick 'em.
So, the question is, what is the armor against these LA guys?! No final roses or magic potions here, my friend. But I will say being surrounded by selfish playboys with hidden agendas makes it really easy to focus on career and have the most AMAZING group of girlfriends. My girls are the best support system I've ever had outside of my immediate family.
So, LA ladies, put away the pitchforks, just keep your priorities in check, because lord knows in this city for the ambitious male? You aren't even close to being one.
So hold out, put on your dancing shoes, love on your girls, because if you love yourself and support your girlfriends, it doesn't matter at the end of the day if you have a guy on speed dial.
XO- Steph.
So hold out, put on your dancing shoes, love on your girls, because if you love yourself and support your girlfriends, it doesn't matter at the end of the day if you have a guy on speed dial.
XO- Steph.
Friday, May 31, 2013
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