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the everyman memoirs

The official blog of author Tali Nay.
MAY
11

On Writing about your Love Life

There are some benefits to writing a book about your love life. Off the top of my head, I can’t really think of any, but don’t let that deter you if you’re considering the same. The good news is that you’re likely not in touch with any of your exes, so they won’t even know you’ve written a book. Again, let me reiterate: THIS IS VERY GOOD NEWS. If, however, you ARE in touch with any of your exes (“in touch” means connected via social media, naturally), they might see you’ve written a book, but they’ll have no idea they’re in it, which means their comments like “You’re the real deal, Tali!” will trigger equal parts mischievous delight at your own stealth and acute horror at how close they’ve come to figuring it out.

Inevitably there’s One Ex to whom you’re still fairly connected. Let’s say, hypothetically, that this One Ex is whom the bulk of the book is about and it ends with him breaking your heart in epic fashion. Hypothetically. If you have such an ex, trust me: he won’t read it. THIS IS ALSO VERY GOOD NEWS.

Then there is the matter of future men you may date. Not that admitting in your book that you go to church and wish alcohol didn’t exist will leave you a particularly large number of interested suitors, but the point is, if they do read your book, they’ll know your game. They’ll know how you approach a relationship. They may know better how to woo you, but they’ll also know when you’re on your way out. They’ll be able to read the signs, because they literally already have. It’s an interesting situation, honestly, and in recent weeks I’ve had a potential suitor who wanted to discuss my first-chapter theory that most of the time you make up your mind about romantic compatibility right away, another who admitted the book made him think about how he would approach dating me if it ever got to that point, and yet another who told me he sides with my One Ex (the #1 way to not get lucky, by the way).

And we can’t forget the family contingent, because if there’s anyone who’s going to lose their mind reading about your romantic exploits, it’s your mother. And father. And possibly everyone else related to you. Not that your family was ever intended as your target audience, but you’ve got to give it to them, this right to be traumatized and to describe the book using charming descriptors like “painful to read.” But it’s OK, because you know they love you. You know they are proud of you. You know mostly they are just glad you’re no longer mixed up with the sumbitch you dated more than a decade ago. MORE VERY GOOD NEWS.

So, see, it’s not all bad. Sure, your family hates it and your exes avoid it and your future dating life is entirely in jeopardy, but it will all be worth it when a woman approaches you on behalf of her daughter who’s just gone through a rough breakup. You’ll sign a book for her, for her daughter too, and for just that moment, the two of you will be connected in a way that has you both clasping your hearts. It will all be worth it when a young man tells you, in tears, that he’s just finished the book and is so impressed by how accurately you’re able to describe “what this feels like.” Because these things will happen to you. They’ll happen to you a lot. And they’ll remind you why you write in the first place; why it’s so important to remind people of the simple truth that we are all the same.

FEB
09

Golden *what?*

And then it was Valentine’s Day. Well, almost. Seriously though, I’m not sure how this happened. A friend mentioned I hadn’t blogged yet in 2017 and I didn’t believe him. True that January was taken over by book preparations, so, there’s that, plus I’ve just spent 10 days in Arizona at a couple of jewelry shows. (Post to follow at some point.)

But back to Valentine’s Day. Because I sort of forgot about it until walking into a donut shop while on the road and seeing trays of heart-shaped donuts. I bought one. Naturally. And then I started thinking about love. It’s not a huge priority for me, really. Which seems odd to say. I certainly miss love, and hope I find it again, but it’s not something I’m willing to devote a lot of time to. Mostly because the odds of a return on investment being at all worthwhile always seem pretty slim. And I’d rather spend my time writing books and perusing gems than going on crappy dates.

I read a book recently that proved what I have always suspected: there aren’t enough men to go around. Or, more accurately, there aren’t enough college-educated men to match the number of college-educated women. It’s actually causing a big problem at universities, where the male students have so many options that the term “golden cock syndrome” exists, whereas the female students will not only struggle to secure one of the available men, but will also struggle to find one that isn’t taking full advantage of the syndrome’s benefits (ie. tons of women wanting to have sex with you).

Not looking to make a generalization here, I’d just like to point out that I have observed, even well past my college years, that golden cock syndrome is still alive and well in the adult male community. It can be hard to find someone who’s interested in monogomy, and with so many other women also seeking a man, I’ve met many men who are consequently not very motivated to make sure the experience you have with them is a positive one. Because when you’re in high demand (meaning you are desirable and in short supply), burning bridges isn’t really that concerning. It’s the same reason why Disney handled me with such little care back when I was offered an internship. It was a crappy deal, but if I didn’t take it, there’d be a line of others who would. So it didn’t matter to them that my overall experience was negative and that I ultimately turned them down. It affected them and their ability to fill that internship ZERO MUCH.

It’s gotten so rare for me to be impressed after a date that when it happened last week, word spread to my family at such speed that I received calls and/or texts from all of my siblings the next day. The hope! Don’t get me wrong. I have it too. The hope. I hope for a man so crazy about me that he doesn’t want anyone else. And I’m not saying there aren’t men out there who are as decent as they are interested in being faithful. I know they exist. They’re just harder to find.

In the case of last week’s date, the feeling did not appear to be mutual, which, of course, is the other side of this equation. Meaning even if you find a man you could be interested in, he has to think the same thing about you, and I’ll be the first to admit I’m not everyone’s cup of tea. My track record would, in fact, suggest that I am exactly NO ONE’S cup of tea. But, again, there is hope. And always will be. In the meantime, I’m having another donut.

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