#also they fucked me by forcing my 401k to pay out without my asking so I don't get to just not file.

[soul-reapr]

Trying to file my taxes but every time I see the word walmart my vision goes red and I start pacing uncontrollably, probably a good sign considering it's where I'll most likely end up working again.

[qqueenofhades]

1. Maybe it's the conspiracy theorist in me, but I also think part of the reason conservatives don't want better social programs is because they don't want the working class to have more power (for reasons I cannot understand, as I know many working class conservatives). Free college, universal healthcare, and high unemployment checks mean workers have more freedom to bargain with employers-after all, if I can quit my job and still have healthcare, go back to college for free/cheap to gain

the education to work elsewhere, and will be compensated well by unemployment until I can get a new job, it means workers have 0 incentive to stay at shitty, low paying jobs or in toxic work environments, and it would force all jobs to have good work environments, pay more, and offer more benefits to attract workers, such as 401k and maternity and paternity leave. It almost feels like they're afraid of that happening-of the working class getting more power-but I don't know why.

I discussed the working-class support of the "myth of meritocracy" in this post. In a nutshell, the "fantasy of class mobility," or the unfounded belief that one day they themselves will join the elite or upper classes and gain large amounts of wealth, keeps them defending the unjust system as it currently exists. They want to pretend that they will eventually benefit from the rules designed to favor rich people, rather than make any sustained attempt to actually stop being poor and change the system that deliberately keeps them that way. They're likewise conditioned to believe all the capitalism-is-great, America-fuck-yeah propaganda, and as I have also discussed before, there's a large amount of ingrained racism; they will reject any changes or politicians that might benefit them economically, out of a fear that "undeserving" people of color will also get a cut of the pie. Basically, they think that no matter how materially deprived their lives are, they're still white, and they will vote in the interests of upholding hierarchical white supremacy, rather than any notion of re-distributive economic justice.

Likewise, yes; late-stage capitalism relies on a constantly struggling working class that has no other options but to put up with the shitty, low-paying job (tying health insurance to being employed, for example, is one of its more evil innovations; you literally can't quit or good luck paying for any medical treatment). Any sustained improvements and social welfare reform that gives them more flexibility, more pay, more choice, or more education is a threat to that model, which is why the oligarchic economic interests lobby so hard against it. Because the white conservative working classes are so thoroughly inculcated to support white elites instead of their more racially diverse economic brethren, they will again usually often agree with this, and parrot taglines about "pulling yourself up by your bootstraps" and "making it on your own" without "sucking on the teat of Socialism!!" In this case, it's framed as a personal virtue to struggle without asking for help or expecting any more assistance from the government, tied to those hoary old American stereotypes about "making it on your own" as a self-reliant man etc etc. But yes. As is often the case in America somehow, the core reason is racism, white grievance, and libertarian mythology that views everything as individual, not structural. Alas.

[mividadelicioso]

El Ano de Treinta

First post here...in a long time anyways. If I were being honest, my last Tumblr of decades ago turned into this soft porn type feed. It’s easier to get to that place then you think lol. First it starts with beautiful things as something to choose for your feed, or clothes, and at some muddled point down the line, there are half naked peeps (amongst other things) just popping up on your feed. In any case, that’s not why I ghosted. I ghosted, because like many things, but especially my writing, I just lost the juice of any kind to use my words via ink or typing, (rather). 

So you may be wondering to yourself, or...more realistically, not be giving a shit at all, as to why I am back in this wordy black hole. Well, really, a conglomeration of things that I’ll slowly vomit out onto this virtual paper, but to nutshell it, I’m losing my mind during this quarantine...losing my fucking sanity, as I would assume, everyone else is. However, for me, it’s more than just this quarantine situation (which, by the way, is incredibly insane to think about, but I digress atm), somehow, someway, (of course in my life), all these events just happen to coincide in a very important year of my life, hence the name. I basically spoiler-ed this post for you (you’re welcome for those of you that have no patience to wait until the end). 

I never thought that the ripe old? young? age of 30 would be a big deal to me; I mean, sure, everyone makes lofty goals for that age, that I would almost dare to say, 90% of the population never accomplish, but it just never worried me that the inevitable would come. It WOULD come, like every birthday, and then it would pass, like every birthday, without cause or concern. So what happened? (You might be asking yourself, OR you MIGHT not be caring at all. I mean, who really cares about a strangers’ musings? AMIRITE?). I don’t know, dude...or dudette. The truth is, this quarantine has forced me to sit in my apartment, shut off from distraction, and has forced an OVERTHINKER and an OVERANALYZER to overthink and overanalyze. It has, shall we say, created the perfect storm for this. Of course, the usual shit bothers me about this birthday; like, I had put together a meager list of goals a long time ago, if you could call them such, and as is the purpose of a list of goals, none were accomplished. Typical? Yes. Normal? Yes. A reason to have mental moments (I will always refer to breakdowns of any kind, as ‘mental moments’)? No. And yet, here I am, friends of Tumblr, have now had a mental moment over this  seemingly significant double digit. You’re probably wondering what that list was; yes, I thought about this myself, because truth be told, this last hasn’t actually been present in my mind at all, recently (PROBABLY why nothing has really been accomplished). 

**LIST OF GOALS: 30th Birthday**

-Go to Ireland (always been a dream of mine to visit)

-Be far along in my career (this is about as fucking unspecific as it gets lol)

-Be financially stable (i.e. have savings and shit)

-Pay something towards student loan, bc them government fuckers will find you

TADA! This was my list, ladies and gents. SHOCKING, I know. The length of it...just straight obnoxious. And TBH, none have been accomplished. TECHNICALLY, the second point does not count, because I switched jobs about 4 months ago...made moves as they say. Now, were those moves, MONEY moves? No...(had to make a rap song reference, don’t hate). Please, judge, and then judge away some more. I mean, listen, I have a 401K collecting moneys SOMEWHERE, and I can always still go to Ireland later this year. The irony of THAT particular point is, that I’m on furlough with my job, and the flights have never been fucking cheaper...but I am at a point, where I am FORCED to not spend frivolously. Although I am blessed with a boyfriend, who will be mentioned in a later post, that handles most of the major finances. Not because I’ve asked, (believe me, I have fought him on this...independence and such), but he thinks it’s his duty as the dude, I guess. But still, can’t be spending money that I may need down the line, should this godawful virus continue to ravage the U.S. (STAY HOME PEOPLES. FUCKING MAKE A BLOG...like me). 

In any case, coming face to face with an un-checkmarked list is quite possibly one of the most depressing things ever. So on top of me going out of my mind, and worrying about the health of my friends and family and significant other, I am also confronting the daunting age of 30, as well as, an unrealized list of goals.

Boohoo, boohoo, right? I resonate with your unsympathetic sentiments as well, but isn’t one of the benefits of blogging on the internet, that you can throw yourself as many endless pity parties as you want and no one can say a goddamn thing. That was definitely a rhetorical question, said in the most un-grammatically correct way ever. God, I love the internet. 

I will continue to rant about this further later on, but for now, I will say, that the only resolution I have come up with for this ‘mental moment’ I had about my list of un-accomplishments, is to create...and dare I say it...A VISION BOARD. Yes. 

God. I. Said. It. A FUCKING vision board, people. I’m about to get DIY up in this bitch...cause...not like I have anything else to do, right? 

Ending this post with some photos of tonights’ dinner. My spin on fried rice w/ asparagus, carrots, and corn as the veg component and some general tso’s chicken I baked in the oven. Despite the potential health hazards food can pose, when consumed in large proportions, I do believe in food therapy, people. BELIEVEEEEE IT.  Hashtag it folks, FOODTHERAPY...unless someone created that hash already, in which I can further add that to my list of failings for my grand ano de TREINTA. 

-Foodie OUT-

P.S. Don’t go all Sherlock Holmes and stock a hoe through my food photos. KTHX. 

[likexporcelain]

A Crack in Everything (Chapter 7/8) - Jonerys

Summary: Six years after their high school romance ended in emotional ruin, Daenerys Targaryen runs into Jon Snow by chance on Valentine's Day, forcing old memories to resurface. This sudden reunion could be cathartic, but it could also deepen the cracks already in their hearts. The question Daenerys grapples with is, will this all be worth it in the end?

Rating: Explicit

First 7 chapters up on Ao3 -- find more tags/warnings/notes there

The paper where my fingers pinched the check became damp with sweat despite the chilly room temperature. A tear had slipped from my cheek to land on the memo line where Robb had scribbled “Take care of yourself cuz.” I couldn't even allow myself a chuckle at the irony. I lowered the checks back into the kitchen drawer and pushed it shut. When my water glass was empty, I set it by the sink and padded across the hall to the bathroom, larger than mine but more old fashioned with tile instead of linoleum floors, a porcelain pedestal sink instead of a cheap plywood vanity, and a rusted claw-foot tub surrounded by a blue shower curtain instead of a skinny shower stall with a glass door. A little window above the toilet gave the room some morning light. I peed, then washed my hands and looked for mouth wash or maybe even an unopened toothbrush.

In the medicine cabinet, the first thing I saw were pill bottles. Lots of them. I couldn't help myself. I turned the bottles one by one so I could see each label. Heavy duty pain killers, not yet finished, but the bottles hadn't been refilled in months. An empty bottle of antibiotics. Klonopin, unfinished, recently refilled.

“Hey.”

With a start, I flipped around. Jon stood in the doorway in only his boxers, rubbing an eye with the back of his hand.

“Hi,” I replied softly. “Sorry. I was snooping a little.”

“It's okay.” He stepped into the bathroom and put his arms around me. I returned the embrace with my cheek against his shoulder, breathing in his stale morning scent like it was a newly bloomed rose.

“We take the same anxiety meds.”

He chuckled against my hair. “It's almost like we're related or something.”

Leaning back, I gave him a pointed look, though my mouth was smiling. “So we're making jokes about it now? I suppose that's progress.”

“Sorry.”

“Don't be.” I pulled Jon close again, hands splayed across his back. “We should be able to talk about it with each other. I don't like it, but I don't want to pretend with you either. We can't change who we are.”

My face turned warm as I stood against him, feeling my eyes begin to water again. His hand smoothed down my hair behind my head in slow strokes.

“What are you thinking about?”

“My family.” I sniffled, but that couldn't keep the first tear from falling. “My mom. My dad. Rhaegar. Do you think he really loved your mother?”

A stretch of silence was Jon's response and I wanted to take back the question. I leaned back against the sink and brought my arms around myself instead, but Jon's hand never left my hair, sliding down to twist the ends around his fingers.

“I don't know,” he eventually said. “I don't think my mom would have loved someone who didn't deserve it, though.”

“I hope you're right. I know he did bad things, but I don't want to believe he was a bad person. He must have been a little bit good, right?”

Jon nodded, but seemed unsure. I suppose we'd never be sure.

To break the solemn mood I'd started the day off with, I offered a small smile and said “I found your money drawer.”

His cheeks pinked as his head shook. “Robb. . . worries about me. And you know, in the Stark family, when you worry about someone, you send them money. He doesn't like me living on my own.”

“Has it been hard?”

“No. It's been nice being alone actually. Too nice. I think I want to be done with that now.”

Stepping forward, I brought my mouth to his, but before our lips could touch, I leaned back. “Do you have an extra toothbrush?”

He left the bathroom and managed to bring me back a brand new one, still in the package, from the closet of the tiny bedroom. We brushed our teeth side by side, and as mundane as the act was, it felt oddly intimate. A glimpse into what life would be like if I finally got to live with Jon Snow. Then we showered together – just showering, aside from the occasional open-mouthed kiss under the spray of water. I turned my back to Jon and he washed my hair. I wondered how long it would take to grow to the length it was in high school. Jon wouldn't say it, but I knew he preferred it long, and so did I.

After toweling off and throwing on a t-shirt and track pants, Jon told me he was going downstairs to smoke. I nodded and kissed him before he went, then began to dress myself, putting on my same khaki pants from yesterday but stealing one of Jon's black hoodies instead of wearing my Martell's yellow polo shirt. I had work again at noon, but I made the executive decision to call in sick. I wasn't sure if Daario believed me or not on the phone, but I didn't really care. Normally, fake-calling in sick would have given me a panic attack, but this time I was as calm as could be, because I knew that once I hung up, I would get to spend the rest of the day, and night, with Jon.

After sliding my phone into my pocket and slipping on my sneakers, I decided to get some air myself and left the apartment, heading down the stairs and through the secondary front door that lead out to the stoop in front of the building. Jon was sitting at the top of the steps, flicking ashes into a Folgers can. When I shut the door behind me, he turned and offered me a smile.

“You're so beautiful,” he told me as I sat down beside him. My arm went around his and I rested my cheek on the curve of his shoulder.

“Hush.”

After Jon put out his cigarette, we remained on the stoop, sitting together in comfortable silence. A man in pajamas was walking his dog across the street. A couple of joggers were on their way toward the nearest path to the beach. Light Sunday morning traffic interrupted the songs of birds perched in trees along the sidewalk. A few minutes went by before Jon said “I've been thinking about something.”

“That's a good sign,” I gently teased.

“I've been thinking that we should get married. If we get married, I can transfer my G. I. Bill to you and you can go back to school for free.”

And that was how Jon Snow proposed to me. Sitting on the steps outside his apartment, eyes watching the world in front of us with his hand holding mine. I lifted my head and blinked at him, wondering if he had taken some of those pain pills without me noticing, but he looked calm and when he turned to me, his eyes were clear and unwavering.

“Jon. . .” My heart did a flip in my chest. “I don't need you to pay for me to go to school. That's not what I want. I don't want anything from you except you.”

“If we're going to be together, you're going to get things from me, Daenerys. That's just how it works.”

“I don't have anything to give you.”

“That's a joke, right?” He leaned in and pressed a kiss to my temple. “When you're making bank as a world famous whatever it is you want to be, I'll finally get to fulfill my lifelong dream of being the world's sexiest domesticated househusband.”

I snorted a laugh, grinning ear to ear.

“Besides,” Jon continued, voice turning serious again, “I wouldn't be paying for it. The Army would be paying for it. I almost died for those assholes. I had to watch friends die for them, and watch them die all over again almost every fucking night while I sleep. The least they can do is pay for you to go to school. You were always supposed to go to school.”

I slid my hand out of his so that I could put my arm around his back. “That money is supposed to be for you, Jon. You deserve it more than I do.”

“That's not true. And either way, I'm not going to college. I don't want to go to college. I never did.” A corner of his mouth lifted as he said “I'm an Assistant Team Leader at Whole Foods. Full-time. Twenty whole dollars an hour. I've got a 401k account and health insurance. Not to brag or anything, but I'm doing alright for myself, even without a degree. . . If you don't want to marry me, though, I would understand.”

“I've wanted to marry you since high school,” I said softly. “We can't, though. We never can. It. . . It isn't legal.”

“Who would know?”

“Your uncle. Robb. Whoever else they told. Sam, if you told him.”

“They would never tell anyone. And I never told Sam. I never told anyone. Not even those psychiatrists I had to see while I was in the hospital.”

“What about the DNA test?” I asked, my voice barely audible.

* * * * *

I hadn't even known about a DNA test until days after that evening at the Stark residence. It was a Saturday and I had spent the whole morning pacing around my apartment, trying to find anything I could sell that would earn me some decent money. Unfortunately, the only thing I owned of real value was my laptop, which I needed to complete my final class projects and also as a method of finding quick jobs. I had posted ads for everything from babysitting to dog walking to house cleaning. Anything that would give me an immediate paycheck.

There was a knock on my door and it startled me because no one ever knocked on my door unless I was expecting a maintenance guy. Of course, I usually scheduled those visits for when I wouldn't be home, leaving a key under the 'Welcome' mat, preferring the possibility of being robbed to the possibility of something worse happening while alone in my apartment with a stranger. When I opened the door, however, it wasn't a middle aged man standing in the hallway. It was Jon.

This was the first time I'd seen him since we sat at Ned Stark's table. He hadn't been at school and I knew it was because he didn't want to see me. Despite my nerves, I had asked Sam if he'd heard from Jon, worrying beyond worry that Jon had told his friend what had happened.

“Some sort of family crisis,” Sam had replied, and his expression suggested that he wasn't lying for my benefit. “He didn't really elaborate, but I don't think he's coming back. I'm surprised he didn't tell you.”

“I think that we broke up,” I replied before quickly leaving the conversation to find a private place to cry.

Family emergency indeed. It was emergent that he stay away from me, his family member, less he be reminded of all the things we had done together – all those things once viewed as signs of affection between young lovers, now warped into something sinister and taboo. Our relationship was now a character flaw. I was the perverted aunt, and he the molested nephew. Did it not matter that we were ignorant? Were we not redeemable? Was I a monster for loving him still, for wanting to be with him regardless? Was my attraction to him romantically and physically supposed to vanquish just like that? Apparently, his had.

But then he came to my door that Saturday and he looked sad and nervous and like he hadn't slept in days, and the optimistic part of me wondered if he had come to apologize and take me in his arms, to tell me it was okay and that we would figure this out together.

The first words out of his mouth after I let him inside, though, were “Apparently my uncle had a DNA test done just after I was born.”

I wasn't sure what I was supposed to say in response to that, so I replied with a change of subject. “You haven't been at school.”

“No, I'm taking all of my finals independently. My uncle set it up. I've decided to actually try, though, so I'm pretty sure I'll be able to graduate at least. Which is good, because you have to have a high school diploma to enlist in the Army.”

“What?”

“I'm going to join the Army. As soon as I have my diploma.”

I had been so shocked I barely understood the words the first time he spoke them, but after the second time, it felt like the room was spinning. This was the opposite of what I had planned for us. We were supposed to stay together. Me at Caltech, him working or starting at a city college, us spending every weekend together until we could afford to get a nice apartment of our own. I knew that Jon was horrified by what we'd learned the other day, but I hadn't thought he was so disgusted by me that he needed to join an organization that would take him to another side of the planet for however many years.

“Don't,” was all my voice could get out.

“I have to.”

“No, you don't.”

“I do, Daenerys. I can't be here anymore. I need to be somewhere else, away from everyone.”

“Away from me.”

I wanted him to say no, even if it was a lie, but Jon had never lied to me. “Yes,” he confirmed.

Quickly, I turned around, hand covering my mouth as tears began to fall. That was when I realized that this would be the last time I'd ever see Jon. I had fallen in love, and now it was ending. I thought back to that popular saying about how experiencing a true love was worth all the pain. In that moment, I disagreed. I wished I had never met Jon. Because now I was ruined, doomed to love a man who couldn't even stand to live on the same continent as me.

Facing the wall, I said “You don't have to go. You hate me now, and that's okay. I won't call you or text you, and if I ever see you I'll turn and walk the other way. You don't have to go.”

“I'm not leaving because I hate you. I'm leaving because I love you.”

Maybe the words should have eased my suffering, but they didn't. They made me confused and angry on top of all the sad. I turned to face him and met his eyes. They were red like mine, but he was doing a better job of keeping in his tears.

“If you love me, then stay. Stay with me.”

“Stay?” he asked. “Didn't you hear me? There's a DNA test. We're related. You're my aunt, Daenerys. My fucking aunt.”

“It doesn't matter!”

“How can it not fucking matter?!”

It was the first and only time I'd ever heard him yell, and it was to yell at me. I felt my body wilting, dying. Jon turned away from me this time, wiping at his face where his emotions had finally won over.

“Why did you even come here?” I asked, voice turning dull and quiet. “To hurt me?”

It took him a few moments to turn back to me. When he did, his hand slid from his pocket and out with it, came an envelope. I knew what it was the second the white paper came into view, but I decided to give Jon the benefit of the doubt, one last time. Maybe it wasn't what I knew it was. So, I let him hand it to me. But when I lifted the flap and pulled out the slip of paper inside, it may as well have been a Polaroid of him fucking another girl, because I felt just as betrayed, staring at a replica of the check I had refused to take from Robb. Just imagining the conversation that must have taken place after I left that evening made me sick to my stomach. Jon, Robb and Ned all sitting around the table discussing the sad case of Daenerys Targaryen – the pathetic little girl accidentally fucked her nephew if you can believe that, and now she's going to be homeless if we don't throw her a few bucks.

A tear slid from the apple of my cheek to stain a wet circle over the “five” in five-thousand just before I tore it up into little pieces. I heard Jon groan, no doubt thinking of how he would have to ask Ned for a fresh check.

“Daenerys, please,” he tried, exasperated, but I was done listening to him.

“Get the fuck out of here,” I told him, the little paper pieces falling from my hands to the carpet like confetti.

“Daenerys.” He took a step closer to me.

“I said, get the fuck out!” I demanded, shoving him away from me. “I don't want your fucking money! Get out of my apartment and don't come back! You're a fucking piece of shit like everyone else! All I wanted was you and you give me money! You said you needed me! You're a fucking liar!”

“I didn't lie. I do need you,” he said quickly, as I shoved him closer to the door. “That's why I have to go. I need to figure out how to stop needing you, Daenerys. I love you.”

“Well, I hate you!” I turned to my bed to where my Harvard sweatshirt was laid out, picked it up and shoved it against Jon's chest while I pushed him the rest of the way to the door. “You can have this back, too. You don't want me. Harvard doesn't want me. You can both fucking rot.”

I pulled the door open, and pushed Jon out of it.

“Daenerys --” he tried once more.

I interrupted him, shouting “Eat shit and die!” before slamming the door in his face. I fell to my knees, sobbing into my hands as quietly as I could, which wasn't quiet at all. “I hate you, I hate you, I hate you,” I whispered while I cried, but I wasn't saying it to Jon anymore. I was saying it to myself.

* * * * *

“There would be, like, a paper trail, or whatever, right?” I asked. “If there was a DNA test then that means that some lab somewhere has a record of analyzing our DNA.”

Jon shook his head. “Ned had it done discreetly. No names. Just samples. Mine and your brother's.”

While I was curious to know how Ned Stark had attained Rhaegar's DNA, it wasn't important enough to me to ask. Instead, I said “Ned would never let you marry me. He would tell someone if it meant keeping you away from me.”

“I'll talk to him.”

I laughed, genuine. “Remember what happened the last time you told me you'd talk to Ned?”

Smiling a bit bashfully, Jon nodded.

“We don't have to get married. We can still be together forever without getting married. I promise I'll go back to school. A state school and I'll apply for scholarships and aid.”

“My mom never got to marry the person she loved,” Jon then said. “I don't want us to be like them. I want us to be better. We deserve better. We never hurt anyone. My uncle will see that. I know he will.”

I wasn't sure why, after everything, but I believed him.

But then, like a divine intervention sent to destroy me once again, a black Lincoln pulled up in front of the building, causing Jon to mutter “This isn't good.”

When a man with a face I recognized, though older now, emerged from the driver's side door, I felt like I did sitting at that dining room table six years ago, like everything was about to come to an end. Jon stood and so did I, reflexively separating myself from my boyfriend – fiancee? – and shoving my hands into my hoodie pockets. Robb stopped at the bottom of the steps and looked up at his cousin, then at me. Even with surprise evident in his eyes and mouth as he took in the sight of me and Jon together again, Robb looked even more sophisticated and proper than the last time I saw him. I figured he'd be done with school by now and already started a fancy career, maybe following in his father's and grandfather's footsteps by becoming an attorney.

“Dany,” he said. “You cut your hair.”

Resisting the urge to bite a nail, I replied “Yes, but I'm growing it out again.”

He simply nodded, then turned his attention to Jon. “You haven't been answering my calls lately.”

“Yeah, I've been working a lot.”

“That's good. You're still not cashing the checks either.”

“I told you I wasn't going to.”

I had to try not to smile. It wasn't that I resented Robb – I never blamed him for anything – but it was nice to see Jon stand up for himself the way I had to.

Apprehensively, Robb climbed the steps, asking “Can we talk?”

Jon looked to me.

“I'll wait here. It's fine,” I told him. No matter what Robb had to say to Jon, I wasn't going to stand in the way of it happening. Like Jon said, we never hurt anyone. I would never try to turn Jon against his family the way Rhaegar seemed to do to Lyanna.

“We won't be long,” Robb assured without making eye contact.

Before Jon lead Robb up to his apartment, he put his hand on my hip and kiss me. Gentle, but lingering, loving, a kiss that could only be interpreted as romantic in nature. I wasn't sure if it was a show for Robb or an act of reassurance for me, but I was content either way, because either way, the kiss said that I was special to Jon and that nothing Robb would say to him upstairs would change anything between us. Still, though, I would be lying if I said I wasn't terrified the entire length of time I spent sitting on that stoop, watching the sun inch higher into the sky, checking Facebook on my phone for the first time in a year, wondering if any of my 43 “friends” would notice if I changed my status to 'In a Relationship.'

Fifteen minutes later, the outer front door to Jon's apartment opened once more. In my unease, I stood again, wrapping my arms around myself like the air was colder than it was.

“It was good seeing you again, Dany.” Robb managed a glance at me before descending the steps. Before he reached his car, though, I found my feet following him quickly.

“Robb,” I said after him.

Somewhat startled, he turned to face me. I noticed how much he looked like Ned now, but that didn't intimidate me.

“I'll make him answer your calls,” I said. “But, you don't have to worry so much. I'll take care of him for you.”

He smiled, even chuckled a bit, the awkward tension receding. “Alright. Well, good. He's my only cousin, you know. I thought you were going to ask me what I said to him.”

“I think I have an idea. I'm more interested to know what Jon said in response.”  

“It was pretty much the same thing he told me last month. Something along the lines of – Whether I'm with her or not, she's the love of my life, and nothing will ever change that.”

My cheeks flushed pink and my nose scrunched as I smiled bashfully down at my feet. After a moment, I picked my head back up and asked “Last month?”

“Yeah, he called me at almost midnight on Valentine's Day, completely interrupting my wife and I during – you know – saying that he talked to you again. He wanted my advice, and I gave it, but obviously he went and did the opposite.”

The information made my smile widen. “I know you don't approve, but --”

“It's not that I don't approve,” he interrupted calmly. “I like you. I've never not liked you, even in high school when everyone seemed to not like you. Even being a Stark knowing you were a Targaryen. But. . . You know. . .  You and Jon together, knowing what I know. . . It feels weird.”

“I know. But you should know that however weird it feels for you, it feels a thousand times more weird for us. So imagine how much we must love each other to be able to deal with it in order to be together. And then imagine how you might feel if you suddenly found out your wife was your aunt.”

Robb broke out in awkward laughter, bringing his hand to the back of his neck. “Yeah, I do not want to imagine that.”

“Congratulations, by the way.”

“Thanks. We actually have a baby now, too. Named after my father, but we all call him Eddie.”

“That's amazing,” I said wistfully, trying not to think about my own baby. “I wanted to ask you a favor actually. You probably tell your wife everything, as you should, but could you just not tell her that Jon and I are. . . you know? Could you not tell anyone?”

After a moment, Robb asked “Will you make Jon cash those checks?”

“You know I'm not going to do that.”

“Yeah, I know. I would never tell anyone anyway. It was never really any of my business. And even if I would, I suppose I owe you a favor.”

He didn't, but I nodded anyway.

After he had climbed back into his sleek sedan, I rejoined Jon at the top of the porch where he'd been waiting for me, partaking in another cigarette.

“Will you marry me if I quit smoking?” he asked once the smoke had left his parted lips.

I hugged him tight, breathing him in. I didn't mind the tobacco smell actually. I found it warm and quaint like a hearth in a log cabin or a grandfather's library while he lets you pick out any book you want, but I wasn't going to tell Jon that because I was going to need him to quit eventually, if he was going to live a long, happy life with me.

“I'll marry you if you buy me breakfast. Bonus points if it's waffles,” I answered, then pressed a gentle kiss to his mouth.

“What are the bonus points on top of marriage?”

I pursed my lips and averted my eyes to give off the impression of deep contemplation before replying “Lots of sex?”

Dropping his half-smoked cigarette into the Folgers can, Jon excitedly exclaimed “Waffles it is.”

[argyle-s]

SOMETHING JUST LIKE THIS CHAPTER 9/?

Rating: Mature (For Later Chapters) 

Read at Ao3

Start at the Beginning

Cat takes steps to deal with everyone who's mistreated Kara.

Chapter 9 - Come to Jesus Jimmy Olsen

When Cat returned to the bullpen it was full again and no one was looking at her in pretty much the same way no one looked at her first thing Monday morning. That was probably wise, considering she was absolutely in the mood to come down on someone like the hammer of God. Part of her really wanted to turn around, go back to Kara’s office, chuck Alex out on her ass and kiss Kara senseless. The other part of her, the rational part, was furious at herself for the line she’d almost crossed. Kara has been upset and vulnerable, and Cat had almost taken advantage of that. For making the same mistake she'd made once before. She wasn’t sure she’d ever forgive herself for.

She and Kara definitely needed to have a talk about what happened, but only once they both had a chance to let their emotions settle. Something that wasn’t likely to happen unless Cat took action on another front.

“Close the door,” Cat said to Eve as Eve followed her into the office.

“Yes, Miss Grant,” Eve said. “Um… do you want me inside, or outside when I do?’

Cat turned around, fully intending to deliver an absolutely scathing remark, right up until she remembered the empty bullpen when she’d lead Kara through. Instead, she swallowed the comment, because while Eve might not be Kara, she *was* good at her job, and because Eve had done nothing wrong and a lot right.

“Inside, please,” Cat said before walking around and sitting at her desk.

Eve closed the door, then came back and stood in front of Cat’s desk, notepad at the ready.

“First, I want you to call security. Clark Kent is banned from the building until further notice. I want a hard copy of his picture posted at all four visitors sign in stations, as well as in the security monitoring station on the twentieth floor. I also want instructions posted that he is to be asked to leave once, and if he does not comply, the police *and* FBI Special Agent Alex Danvers are to be called immediately and a formal complaint is to be filed even if he leaves before the police arrive. If he’s still here when the police arrive, I want him arrested for trespassing.”

“Second, I want you go down to HR, and have them call someone down from legal. I want three sets of paperwork prepared on James Olsen. The first set is a formal complaint for grossly unprofessional conduct with a two-week suspension without pay. The second set is a formal charge of harassment following the termination of a romantic relationship, along with an at fault termination packet. The third is a contract buy out at one hundred percent value. I want myself listed as the complaining party on the first set of paperwork, and Kara Danvers listed as the complaining party on the second set of paperwork. Tell legal I also want them to draw up a self defense incident report, with Clark Kent listed as the aggressing party, and Kara Danvers listed as the person being attacked. Tell them I want the paperwork prepared, but not filed. Once all three packets on Olsen are finished, I want them delivered to me, then I want you to find Olsen and tell him I want to see him.”

“Yes, Miss Grant. Anything else?”

“Yes,” Cat said. “Do you know Alison Mercer in HR?”

“Yes,” Eve said.

“Speak with her alone. Make sure no one overhears you. Tell her I want her to fill out a packet twenty-seven with today’s date and sent to my office. She’ll ask you for names. Give her mine and Kara Danvers. Speak of this to no one else, and once it’s done, forget it ever happened.”

“Yes, Miss Grant.”

“Also, clear my entire schedule for tomorrow, then put down a meeting with Kara form 10:00 AM until noon. See that Snapper is informed that she’ll be unavailable during that time. Tell him that if he has a problem with it, he can call Vicki Vale and offer her his job.”

“Yes, Miss Grant. Anything else?”

“That’s all,” Cat said. “Close the door as you leave.”

Eve nodded and turned, heading for the door while Cat leaned back and took a deep breath, considering what she’d just done. Alison Mercer was the head of enforcement for the CatCo Code of Conduct. Her entire job was to make sure that every employee in the building lived up to the exacting standards Cat had set down when she’d founded CatCo, and one of those standards was that Cat Grant was absolutely not going to sit around and allow any executive to force themselves on an underling. No one other than Cat or Alison in the building would have any idea what a “packet twenty-seven” was, because that wasn’t the official designation for the packet of paperwork. The official name was “Order for the Termination of a Board Reporting Employee for Inappropriate Sexual Advances Towards a Subordinate.”

Under under the terms of the CatCo Company Charter, the Board was required to investigate the allegations contained in a packet twenty-seven, and if the allegations were confirmed, the board had no choice but to remove the employee in question from their position. The employee would also forfeit all outstanding stock options, all CatCo 401K matching contributions, their pension and severance package, and under the terms of all board reporting contracts, would be required to sell all shares of CatCo back to the board at eighty percent of current market value.

The fact that Cat had requested the filed the paperwork be prepared herself would be a de facto confession, meaning there wouldn’t even be an investigation. If she told Alison to file those papers, she wouldn’t finish out the day.

It wouldn’t ruin her. Not financially. Even without her CatCo stock Cat was a billionaire ten times over. The trust funds for Carter and Adam were already established, so even if she was bankrupted by the nearly inevitable lawsuits, her sons would be taken care of. It would absolutely destroy her legacy though. Everything she’d ever said about protecting women in the workplace would instantly become a joke, undermined by her own hypocrisy. But she absolutely could not call James Olsen out for his bad behavior if she wasn’t willing to own up to her own.

However, she had other things to take care of first.

She picked up her cell phone, scrolled down to the contact marked ‘Lesser Lane’, and hit send.

“Hey, Cat,” Lois said when she picked up. “How’s the Evil Queen business treating you?”

“Not good,” Cat said. “One of my reporters just slapped a reporter from another paper so hard it drew blood. It’s a mess. One of my department heads was involved. My reporter has a pretty good case for self-defense, as well as a case for harassment against the department head in question, but this has the potential to turn into a complete shitstorm if the other reporter or the department head decide to make a stink, or someone talks to the press.”

“Um, Cat, I know you don’t think much of my reporting skills, but you do remember I *am* a member of the press, right?” Lois asked.

“Unfortunately, that’s not something I can really forget, no matter how much scotch I consume. I just thought you might like a head’s up as to why your boyfriend has a split lip and a hand shaped bruise on his face.”

“WHAT?” Lois screamed.

“Oh, keep it down. But you might want to let him know he’s banned from the building, and the security guards have instructions to have him arrested for trespassing if he shows up here again.”

“Cat, who the hell hit Clark?” Lois asked.

“Kara Danvers,” Cat said. “I don’t know what the hell your farm boy was thinking, but what he said to her… It was bad, Lois. And Olsen was right in the middle of it.”

“Jesus fucking Christ on a crutch,” Lois said. “What the hell did James do?”

“Ask him yourself,” Cat said. “Mr. Olsen is about to find himself with an abundance of free time.”

“You’re firing him?” Lois asked.

“I’d like too,” Cat said. “But I’m going to leave the final decision up to Kara.”

“That’s not like you, Cat. What’s really going on?” Lois asked.

Cat let out a sigh. “What’s going on is James Olsen is an outstanding art director, one of the most talented photo journalists in the world and would very likely have succeeded me as CEO of CatCo Worldwide media. Except the way he treated your sister made one of the most talented lawyers I’ve ever seen walk away from a seven figure salary after three months, and he seems completely incapable of processing the idea that Kara isn’t just your farm boy in a skirt.”

“Wait, what?”

“James and Clark are both unhappy with a decision Kara made during the Doomsday event a couple of weeks ago.”

There was silence on the line for nearly two minutes, before Lois spoke again.

“You know, don’t you?” Lois asked.

“Yes,” Cat said. “It took me about two months to figure it out. Which is an embarrassingly long time, I admit.”

“It took me two fucking years,” Lois said.

“Well, yes, but I that’s you,” Cat said.

“Kara really hit him?” Lois asked.

“Yes,” Cat said. “I saw it coming. I tried to stop it, but James got in my way.”

“I’ll talk to Clark. But Cat, banning him from the building…”

“Lois, if you know who Kara is, you know what she’s been through,” Cat said.

“Yeah, I do,” Lois said.

“Then you’ll understand why when you hear what he said. Well, assuming he has the good sense to leave town before Alex Danvers or J’onn J’onzz catch him. If he doesn’t, well, I could probably get you Aquaman’s phone number.”

“I’ll call him and suggest he come home,” Lois said. “Thanks for the head’s up.”

“You might want to talk to Perry about getting James his old job back,” Cat said. “If Kara wants James gone, I’m going to revoke his National City privileges.”

“That’s low, Cat, even… No, you know what, I’m going to wait until I know what’s going on before I open my mouth, because honestly, I’m still pissed at James for what went down with Lucy.”

“Good choice,” Cat said.

“Yeah. Thanks for ruining my day, by the way.”

“Always a pleasure,” Cat said, then she lowered her phone and hit the end call button.

***

“You wanted to see me?” James said as he came to a stop in front of her desk.

“Have a seat, Mr. Olsen,” Cat said.

“I figured you’d want me standing for this,” he said as he lowered himself into one of the chairs opposite her.

“Oh, I think we’re well past theatrics and power games,” Cat said. “You see, James, I *hate* repeating myself. I really do. So, I’m going to keep this short. Your behavior is unacceptable. Kara asked you not to bring your personal issues into the work place. You ignored her wishes and tried to pressure her into a conversation she did not want to have. You created a scene which could have embarrassed her personally and professionally had I not intervened. Then, today, you and Kent brought an outside issue into Kara’s place of work, created a public spectacle which I can only assume hasn’t found its way onto TMZ and Buzzfeed because everyone out there in the bullpen loves Kara. A spectacle which could have been avoided if you hadn’t kept me from interfering when the initial disagreement began to escalate.”

“You’re going to blame me for that?” James asked with a look of disbelief on his face. “You’re the one who insisted they talk on the balcony.”

“Not helping your case,” Cat said. “I knew the entire situation was trouble the moment I saw you and Kent talking. I wanted the situation where I could keep an eye on it, and if you hadn’t gotten in my way, I might have been able to stop the argument from escalating to the point where Kara felt that a physical response was necessary.”

“Necessary? You think Kara hitting Clark was necessary?”

“What I think is irrelevant,” Cat said. “Kara obviously did.”

James shook his head. “You don’t have any idea what that conversation was about.”

Cat stepped on the impulse to tell James she knew exactly what the conversation was about, because no matter how badly she’d screwed up today, she was not going to violate Kara’s confidence.

“I didn’t need to,” Cat said. “If Kara reacted that way to something Clark said, then I know he crossed a line because I know Kara.”

“Not as well as you’d like to,” James muttered.

Cat just raised one eyebrow as she stared at James and waited. It took a couple of seconds for him to realize what he’d said, and Cat, for all the effort she was making to keep the meeting civil, relished the look of panic on his face.

“Are you done, Mr. Olsen?” she asked in a tone slightly colder than Kara’s freeze breath.

“Miss Grant, I didn’t mean-”

“Don’t insult me,” Cat said. “You meant it. In fact, it’s probably the most honest thing you’ve said since you walked in here. So, let me be equally honest. When you arrived at CatCo I had a lot of respect for you and very high expectations. I hired you with the express purpose of slotting you into the succession plan for when I eventually retired. But I began to question that decision when I saw the way you reacted to me hiring Lucy Lane. She was an amazingly competent woman who would have been a tremendous asset to CatCo had your behavior not driven her away. And now, your behavior is creating problems for an absolutely astonishing young woman who has a tremendous amount of potential. Your behavior. Your inability to accept the validity of Kara’s choices and feelings, on top of your insistence on trying to push her into being something she doesn’t want to be.”

“You are really going to sit there and lecture me on how to treat Kara?” James asked. “Really?”

“Oh, Mr. Olsen, I admit, I’m the last person who should be lecturing anyone on how they should treat Kara. And yet, here we are. Again.”

“Now, fortunately for you, Mr. Olsen, today does not involve an angry Kryptonian on space drugs tossing you off a forty-story building, but make no mistake, this *is* your come to Jesus moment. The only reason you still currently have a job is that Kara has not filed a formal complaint.” Cat reached down and opened the file drawer in her desk and pulled out three manila envelopes. She sat two on her desk and held the third one up.

“This is your for-cause termination packet. All it needs is Kara’s signature on a harassment complaint. One I will offer her the chance to sign tomorrow.” She returned the termination packet to her desk drawer.

“Now, Kara is the forgiving type. She always sees the best in people, and wants to believe they can change, that they can do better. So, I know the chances of her *ever* signing that harassment complaint are close to zero. I also know that if I fire you because of this, she will be eaten alive by the guilt. Which is why I had these prepared.” Cat slid the other two envelopes cross her desk to James.

“One of those is a contract buy out at one hundred percent of the value of your remaining contract. The other is a two-week suspension without pay and a formal letter of reprimand for your personnel file. You can walk away from CatCo today, with three years and nine months’ worth of pay, a cash bonus equal to the current value of your stock options, and a clean personnel file, or you can spend two weeks on unpaid leave getting your head on straight, then come back here and act like you have some concept of how to conduct yourself in the work place. But, if you decide not to take the buyout, and I’m wrong about how forgiving Kara is, you will walk away with nothing. But if you decide to stay, that letter of reprimand will go in your file, and if there is *ever* another incident, I won’t need Kara’s cooperation to fire you for cause.”

James stared at her for a moment, and Cat could see the absolute fury in his eyes as he reached for a pen. He picked up the packet with the suspension paperwork, opened it and signed in four separate places before shoving the paperwork back across the desk.

“Two things before you go,” Cat said. “First, I had Miss Teschmacher book you on a red eye to Metropolis. You’ll find the ticket details in your personal email. I think a break from National City would help you get some perspective.”

James just sat there, staring at her.

“Second, if I ever catch wind of you dating another CatCo employee, I don’t care how upset Kara gets. I *will* fire you on the spot. I told you before, twice is dangerously close to becoming a pattern of behavior. I will not put up with your bullshit a third time.”

“Now, get out of my office.”

[hello-dolly]

(2) and she just looked at me and asked me one simple question. How old are your parents? I answered her, not really getting where she was going. She then told me, simply "They're responsible for their own lives, and you're responsible for your own and only your own until the point where you decide you want to have a kid. Then you'll be responsible for the kid as well." I disagreed with her, telling her that my parents drag me into their issues even when I try to stay away and she rebutted me

(3) She just smiled and said something along the lines of “Live your own life. When they see you’re doing your own thing, being happy, living your own life, they’ll start changing as well.” I didn’t trust her, tbh. I felt like I’ve always been there for my parents so they were used to me being there to listen and comfort and whatnot. I had some deeper issues so it took me a while to get on my own two feet where I don’t just jump up to help them whenever they come whining. I just started doing it

(4) And let me tell you, in the beginning it’s so hard. So hard to not just fix their issues when you know you could. But I realised that they can actually ix them, too. I just made them too much used to me being the one to fix them so they got spoiled by me. I fucking managed to spoil my parents, ridiculous, eh? But the more I’ve become independent in the way where I just listen without reacting and letting them deal with it all while I deal with my shit, they actually started getting better.

(5) It took me so damn long, though. So long to finally sever the damn phantom umbilical cord. I know how overwhelmed you must feel with parents who look to you for help, I know you must feel responsible for them in so many ways, but I just want to let you know it’ll get better. You’ll get better. And I say that because, and this was the hardest lesson I had to learn, the only person you can truly change is you. Others change as a reaction to your change, like a tidal wave. Take care of yourself

(6) Love yourself because you’re so damn lovable. And don’t put your life on any kind of pause or slow it down for others, because it will only harm you in the long run. On the other hand, you living your best life at the pace that is comfortable to you will inspire others to do the same. It does sound cheesy, but it’s proven many times to be true. If you need someone to talk to or talk AT, just message me, whenever you feel like it, okay? Be good to yourself!

I thank you kindly for your thoughtful advice, and I hear you completely.  Although it looks like tumblr ate the first part of this ask, I’m pretty sure I got the gist of the situation.  I thank you for sharing, and hope you do not mind that I am responding to this publicly, but I feel the need to make my own response public to see if there is anyone out there with the knowledge and advice that might help me more specifically.  In response:

These are strategies I’ve tried to reassure myself with for years.  But there are logistics to consider that I frankly need help dealing with, and due to a personal lack of finances, I am unable to seek professional help to help me answer these questions.

On my dad’s end, he will eventually learn to stop bringing me into his personal life on this level.  In part he does still emotionally lean on me because I’ve always been the only person that knew how to understand my mother and calm her down.  He discusses this with me to vent and also seek my guidance because we have always needed to respond very carefully as to not escalate the situation.  (On the other hand, he also communicates these issues with me to warn me of what the situation is, because I am always the next person my mother will contact if she is in a foul mood.)  My mother still had a lot of financial control and could put a lot of things at risk intentionally if we did not respond in a desired way.  Consequently, her actions would then affect the entire family, regardless of my involvement.  Losing our home is not something we can afford to go through right now, and this greatest thing at stake from my father’s end, until the divorce is settled.

Now, we have my mother who suffers severely from Borderline Personality Disorder, and is in need of intensive care.  I agree with you, that this shouldn’t be my responsibility.  But here is the reality of the situation; my mother is 60 years old, jobless (she lost 5 jobs in just one year), she is unable to maintain a job due to both mental health issues and physical health issues. She is in thousands of dollars of debt from medical bills, and a couple thousand from credit cards.  Her boyfriend (who seems to have recently left her) was their only source of income, and since he’s only on disability himself, there was never much money around.  She will be filing for bankruptcy this year because there are no other available options.

My mother is still covered under my father’s health insurance because their divorce has not been legalized yet.  However, she only has until the end of March before that health insurance is canceled.  The insurance however is a complete joke because our family is very poor and we cannot afford a lower deductible, so until we spend out $3500 in medical fees (money we do not have), we don’t qualify for much benefits.  To just see a general family doctor, our co-pays are $100 and up.  My mother who has no income other than the money I (had) been supplying her with, cannot afford to go to the doctor.  For over a year now, she has stopped taking all of her anti-depressant medications, mood stabilizers, sleeping aids, etc.  Recently, she has not had the money to pay for her other on-going medications for both hypertension and Diabetes type II.  She’s become very physically ill and her IBS has been affecting her daily life to an extreme.  However, with all of these things in mind, be aware that her doctor denied her his recommendation for disability when we asked.

I did take her to a social worker and we have applied to get her food stamps, cash assistance, and a medical card.  We have not yet heard back to see if she has been accepted for any of these government aids, and because we live in the bankrupt state of Illinois, I am weary of both how long it will take for her receive a response, and what her chances are of qualifying at all since her divorce from my father is not final.  (The divorce which we literally do not have money to afford at the moment.  My dad already had to take out money against his 401k to pay 5 missing house payments so that the bank would not start foreclosure. Which in turn, my mother then stole the money that he intended to use to pay off those bills, and used it to buy crack cocaine for herself.  She’s become an ongoing addict.)

My mother is literally at the point of being evicted from her trailer by her own sister.  Her boyfriend has left her, and he was the one that paid for all the utilities.  Knowing what I know about the health care system, I don’t think she will be quickly approved (if at all) for permanent Social Security Disability because it is rarely passed for people with Mental Illness, and her physical ailments are deemed curable as long as she has the money to afford the medications.  My mother has no other family members but myself and my younger brother.  I’m not at this moment allowing myself to consider the idea of letting her become homeless or forcing her to live in a women’s shelter where her health can only further deteriorate.

I would love to walk away from all of this and reassure myself that my mother will learn to change and that she will eventually be able to take care of herself.  However, at this moment, I know that she is entirely mentally and financially incapable of doing any of those things.  She’s been extremely suicidal and it’s taken every ounce of energy that I have to convince her that these problems are still manageable and there is hope that things will be better.

I love my mother despite all these issues because I understand how severe the disorder is, as I am a victim of it myself.  In a few weeks she will have no other option but to move to another state to live with me, since I am the only family she has that will take her in.  Opening my home to her means opening her to my care, and taking her on as a full-time responsibility.  I still do not have the money to get her the therapy and medical help that she needs; I don’t even have the money to afford it for myself.

I have no idea what to do, but I just cannot with good conscience walk away knowing that she will be left either homeless or to commit suicide.  I do not want these responsibilities, and I do want to live my own life, but it seems like my only way to live is to find a way to accommodate her life first until she is actually capable of doing it herself.  Most unfortunately to all of this is that I have no assistance myself.  I need help finding solutions, but I have no one to ask, and I have no connections to help me get things active.  As I mentioned before, I also suffer from BPD and anxiety, and it’s been extremely difficult for me to find solutions to her problems when I don’t have anyone first helping me to solve my own. 

I am truly and devastatingly in need of help that results in active decision making that will produce tangible results.  I need to be productive and make sure these situations don’t escalate even further than they already have, but I just have absolutely no idea where to go or how to make those changes happen.  I am not just frustrated with the situation, but also with myself, and I am endlessly terrified, but I simply know that doing nothing and walking away for my own benefit will result in consequences that I am not ready to live with. 

If anyone has any advice for what to do in the state of these circumstances, I am willing to learn and find a way to take action ASAP.  

[datingadviceonreddit]

…Now that I have your attention, I would like to offer some sincere advice to those who are currently in the situation that I had been during my 20’s. This advice is mostly targeted towards guys who are generally “good dudes” who just seem to be having trouble getting dates or have trouble talking to women. No PUA here, purely 100% USDA organic.My methodology is mostly based on anecdotal evidence because I believe 1. in the philosophy that “not everyone can be ‘x’, but anyone can be ‘x’, and 2. I find statistical research (while useful) can create negative biases and prejudices from the start which can make the already stressful task of finding dates overwhelming.Anyway, if you like what you read, I was thinking about expanding this into a 3 or 4 part series with advice on Tinder game, how to find dates using “forced” interaction, etc. if I get enough up votes :).About me: I’m an early 30’s single professional living in a metropolitan Midwest region. I have dated women of mostly all races/ethnicities, all different backgrounds and personalities. Why am I not tied down, maybe we can get to that in part 2 :)Here is a breakdown of how I view my personal/professional traits as they relate to attractiveness (both positive and negative). Note: this isn’t an exhaustive list but it gives you an idea of the reality of my situation. Some might say I have it better off, some might be glad they aren’t in my shoes. I’m going to try to be as honest as possible.White privilege traits (not to be controversial here, but these are the traits that I am “born into”, that I have no control in changing, that society has determined whether it’s a statistical advantage or disadvantage):*Height: 5’10 - neutral. 5’9 is the average American male height. Height is one of those biases that I despise because it’s so ingrained in society, so much so to the point where shorter men statistically make less salary than their taller counterparts (holding all else constant). This is mainly why I believe my height is neutral. Furthermore, I’ve been rejected by a good number of women who said I was too short. Go figure. That being said, there are plenty of women who aren’t concerned about height insecurity and more power to you! To note: I am indifferent to female height, I’ve dated women who were around 5ft to women who were 6’2 with no insecurities. Speaking out of my ass, I think 6ft is when height becomes a positive, and below 5’6 is when it starts becoming a negative, for men.*Ethnicity: East Asian – negative. Statistically speaking, Asian men (particularly South Asian men and black women) have the lowest odds of matches on OKC and other dating apps. Again, I have been rejected by women who had flat out told me to my face that they weren’t interested in dating Asian guys. At first I found this a bit racist, but I realized that, as with height, I can only play the cards I am dealt. So I don’t have the complete female gene pool to work with, but that’s fine.*Overall physical appearance – neutral. I don’t have a chiseled face and I can’t grow facial hair, but I still have a full head of hair so it balances out. Just very average.*Mild IBS – negative. Obviously.*Social introvert – neutral. I like to spend time alone because I just enjoy my own time. I don’t usually go out of my way to be social aka make extravagant plans, but I do enjoy the company of friends.Gray privilege traits (Hobbies/traits that I have some control over the outcome, that I do for the sake of personal enjoyment. These can have either positive or negative consequences in being attractive):*Gym on the regular – positive. I work out 3-4 times a week and unsurprisingly have an athletic physique. No six pack, no muscles on muscles, but I have a full chest and can fill out a shirt and pants well. In college, I used to work out to impress the ladies, but since then I realized two things: 1. working out only marginally improves overall attractiveness and 2. it’s more vital to work out for health benefits, especially now that I’m in my 30’s and my digestive system can’t break down the Big Macs and Miller High Life’s as thoroughly anymore.*Volunteer – positive. It’s important for me to interact with many different types of people and I find it fulfilling to be giving back to the community since my current job isn’t one of “nobility” (even though I do find satisfaction in my line of work). Volunteering just elicits so much perspective and positive energy both on how compassionate/humble people really are, and how some people just get dealt a bad hand due to no fault of their own.*Acid Reflux – negative. I am restricted on diet.*Good dancer – positive. I’ve enjoyed dancing since high school and while this is a huge plus when I go out to dancy type places or events, I am not ashamed to admit I hold one-man dance parties at my apartment.*Anxiety – negative. I suffer from high anxiety. I was not born with it, but it became an issue when I worked some high stress jobs. Also, I’m a general worry-wart.*Good paying job – positive. Independent of enjoying the job, paying bills/loans/saving money is a big stress reliever.*Fulfillment of job – neutral. I work in IT and enjoy what I do because I feel it has a positive impact in the world and I enjoy solving problems for customers and my company, but it’s not a “dream” job by any stretch of the means. I was able to pursue a couple dream jobs previously, but what they don’t tell you about some dream jobs is that there is a time limit on how long you can be in a that role before having to move on.Red privilege traits (Things I do to specifically appeal to the opposite sex/appear more attractive that I wouldn’t otherwise do)*Dress nicely and spend time and money on better aesthetically appealing clothes – some men do this because they are big into fashion or because they find this medium to show self expression. Not me. I dress nicely to impress women.*Live in a nicer apartment – the factors that are important to me when figuring out where to live are 1. cost relative to commute, 2. safety, 3. convenience of grocery stores, gym, bars, etc. That said, I probably could get away with paying less to live in a worse apartment where I wouldn’t have to sacrifice point 1, 2, and 3, but I choose to pay a premium for the “wow” factor of not only women, but also friends and family. It’s shallow but it’s really only my one “splurge” item as I don’t own any fancy watches or designer clothing or have memberships to exclusive clubs, or other expensive hobbies so that’s how I justify that.*More expensive haircut and wax my eyebrows.*Lotion, cologne, an extra shower per day.*Meticulousness on dating app and online dating picsSo now you have an idea of what I’m working with. I’d say it’s pretty average on the surface. I’m just a “regular” guy who doesn’t have anything splashy to offer. Yet, I am successful with getting dates and have no problem talking to women in areas of public domain including bars, restaurants, concerts, parties, just being out and about.So what’s my advice on increasing positive interactions with women you are looking to court? Simple: friends. Yes that’s it, friends.I was actually shocked that this concept wasn’t one of the top posts in this sub because out of all the advice I’ve seen (most of it is good advice), none of them touches upon the most basic level of what we already do on a day-to-day basis anyway.So why is having friends important? I mean this is a simple enough question right? Most of us have at least 1 friend, and if you’re lucky maybe more. So how can having friends help the dating life. Again, this is all anecdotal:My friends unintentionally (or intentionally when I ask) provide a good barometer of how attractive I am. Being around someone for a consistent period of time, I feel they know me the best and when I ask them serious questions, they will give me honest answers whether it be genuine compliments of my positive traits (that I usually take for granted), or constructive criticism of my negative ones (because of hubris or lack of awareness). My friends point out when I get flustered, or when I seem disinterested in something, or even when I have body odor/bad breath. Things that I might be projecting subconsciously without even knowing it, that will immediately make me appear unattractive in public, they can corral. Because at the end of the day, we are always changing, subtly, to the point where we might not even notice something, but our friends or family will.Interacting with friends makes me more interesting. Ever run into that situation when you’re on a date and you can’t think of something to talk about? It’s happened to me plenty of times and rather than defensive-mechanizing that my date is the one who is uninteresting, I realized I needed to be more interesting of a person. Not necessarily for the sake of keeping a date interested so much as “what the fuck am I doing with my life that I don’t have anything interesting to say”. I have a decent size circle of 5-10 friends who share a wide variety of interests and have different personalities. This is where I can find out what’s up with today’s current events, what movie they recommend I go see, what electronics they think are cool, how best to diversify my 401k, what’s a good show on Netflix. Point here is that, friends keep me up to date on things I might be unaware of because I’m sitting at home being out of the loop. That said, I’m really only passionate about a few things, but I better be able to explain why I am passionate about those things and why you might could be interested too.Coworkers, clients, partners, and vendors are also great too. Because the interaction here is somewhat “forced” yet organic. Dealing with hostile clients, or Baby Boomer vendors, or hip coworkers further helps me to gauge how my interactions are going. Your friends are your friends, but handling a difficult client/coworker has given me a leg up in situations where I had to interact with women in not the most comfortable situations.Friends introduced me to other people who became my friends. And so my friend circle grew big enough (5-15) people to where in any given year, some would have birthday parties, or house parties, or Super Bowl watch parties, or NYE parties where there would be more people who I would have an opportunity to interact with, already having the advantage of knowing the common friend (or in some cases the friend of the common friend).Good friends offer good peer pressure. They make plans to do stuff in public settings that I wouldn’t have gone out of my way to otherwise do. They keep my calendar filled with things to do. So much so, that I have to turn down events on occasion because I need a night off. And I’m not talking 5 days a week, I’m talking maybe 2-3 things a month on top of just regular hanging out. They have forced me to get out of my comfort zone.Ok, that’s enough of a list for now. I would also like to reiterate that I have anxiety issues and am a social introvert, so while I can be social, I usually prefer not to be any more than socializing with friends or professional in the work setting.What’s my secret to overcoming anxiety and introvertedness for me? Three things of similar vein:embrace the situation I’m in regardless of the things I can’t change. Some people have it easier than me, some people have it worse, though if I focus on what other people are doing, I can’t focus on improving me. One of my favorite songs is “The Best of What’s Around” by DMB because it just epitomizes this point. I have anxiety, IBS, and am introverted. I am aware of these things but I refuse to let them hold me back from becoming the person I want to be.Hold myself accountable to the things I can change (the gray and red privilege). I have no excuses here. If I choose to not improve either my personal fulfillment box or my attractiveness to women box, then I blame only myself and accept the consequences.Attitude. Attractiveness comes from confidence. Confidence comes from feeling good about yourself. Feeling good about yourself comes from enjoying the things you enjoy for the sake of personal fulfillment like hanging out with friends. When I’m rocking out to a energetic song or am looking forward to an upcoming vacation or dinner party with friends, I get into a good mood. When I’m in a good mood, my posture is improved, I walk and talk with confidence, and subconsciously project an aura of attractiveness. Random conversation flows smoother, wit is sharper, etc. And yes, women notice this to the Nth degree.I’m doing these things and it’s given me a lot of success attracting women, however, I don’t do these things because I am intentionally trying to attract women. It’s just a byproduct of having friends and having those friends unintentionally put me in situations to feel good about me and about life and hence points 1, 2, and 3.Anyway, this is my 2 cents on what works for me and I hope this gives hope to some of the people out there that feel like they are alone in this situation, or that something is too much to overcome. via /r/dating_advice