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By Jasmine Curry, July 4, 2011 6:00 am

I'm not throwing your love away. I'm just recycling.

A lifetime ago, I was in a long term live-in relationship with a boyfriend. It was good, but it wasn’t perfect, and I felt myself pulling away from him. To be honest, I even got a bit bitchy with him.

That Thanksgiving, I spent the holiday out of town with my mother, and being away from him felt like tasting chocolate for the first time. I realized that it was probably time to end the relationship.

But how? When? Before Christmas, so you don’t feel guilty over receiving gifts from someone you intend to break up with? After Christmas, so you don’t ruin his holidays? This was my first relationship and thus was also to be my first breakup. I had no idea how to go about things.

Luckily, my boyfriend took care of things for me. The night I got back from our weekend away, while we were eating dinner (at the… wait for it… “Comfort Diner”), he jokingly asked, “What, are you going to break up with me?”

And, being someone who can’t lie, I honestly–and probably too abruptly–said, “Yes.”

The Comfort Diner was suddenly not so comfortable. Put me off chicken pot pie for years….

The next two weeks were hell. We had all of our stuff to separate. We even had custody issues with our pet cat. (Man, I miss that cat. I almost considered staying in the relationship just to be with her.) Mostly, it was two weeks of “why?” followed by “why?” followed by “why?” again. It was like living with a three-year-old who got into mommy’s Valium.

Not my idea of fun. Well, probably not anyone’s idea of fun. Unless you have a disturbing fetish and get off on that kind of thing, in which case you should just buy a cape and change your name to “The Heartbreaker.”

Continue reading 'Sex With An Ex Sucks'»

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By Jasmine Curry, January 10, 2011 6:00 am

Martin Luther King Jr. had a dream.

I have dreams, too. Most involve giant penguins and the number 47.

As for that famous speech, I’ve always believed that someday it will truly become reality.

But who am I to stand from the curvaceous slopes of California and shout my opinions? As a person of Middle Eastern and Irish descent, I am considered Caucasian. Yet, as a child, I never understood why I had to check the box that said “white,” because my skin is a golden brown. When people ask me what I am, and I reply, “white,” they look at me like I have lobsters crawling out of my ears.

So, I always looked different, but felt the same as everyone else. They really should add an “ethnically ambiguous” box on the next census.

When my husband and I discovered we were expecting, we had visions of an exotic little baby and gave her a Hawaiian name. Boy, were we wrong. Due to the amazing lottery wheel of genetics, my daughter has fair complexion, blond hair and blue eyes. Perfect strangers have expressed skepticism that she’s actually ours. We even joke that if we hadn’t both witnessed her come out of me, we’d suspect we were the victims of a baby swap. (For the record: No, I’m not the nanny. No, I didn’t adopt her. And, no, for the last time, she isn’t the mailman’s kid.)

Who knew that the Ethnically Ambiguous Duo could produce a child that Hitler would be proud of? (Not that it should matter whether Hitler would’ve been proud of our kid, mind you.)

Raising a child can be rewarding, demanding, frustrating and exhilarating, all bundled together like some evil cell phone plan of parenthood. There’s Play-Doh embedded in my carpet, my arms are sore from swinging a three-year-old around the living room, I can recite Goodnight Moon from heart, and if I have to watch one more episode of Dora the Explorer, I may just scream. Thank God she doesn’t know of the existence of a certain demonic purple dinosaur. Continue reading 'A White Girl Can Dream, Too'»

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By Jasmine Curry, December 20, 2010 6:00 am

Image design by romibello

I remember when the holidays were a time of great excitement and anticipation. Getting the Toys “R” Us catalog and frantically circling all of the things I wanted. Eating all of my vegetables because I knew Santa was watching. Watching. Always. Somewhere. Somehow.

Oh, and that feeling of sheer joy, waking up at the ungodly hour of 5:45 in the morning, sneaking over to the tree and holding my breath in quiet anticipation, then diving headlong into the riches that were about to be unearthed!

Ah, for the days of yesteryear, when I loved the month of December.

Today?

Today, I say, “screw you holidays! Screw you and the bulbous-nosed reindeer you rode in on!”

No, I don’t want to get up at 4:00 in the morning the day after Thanksgiving, risking literal dismemberment to get that extra 30% off. No, I don’t want to buy that totally lame snowman sweater for my husband, just to watch him grimace at my fashion sense. And, no, I don’t want to experience the letdown of yet another holiday season that fails to live up to my totally unattainable expectations.

But, wait. Maybe I just need some music to get me in the mood. So I turn the radio to the Coast (our local easy-listening station) and start easy-listening to the Christmas music.

Does it help? No. It’s the same damned four songs over and over again. No, I don’t want to hear the Southern California Kris Kringle Society’s latest rendition of Carol of the Bells. I don’t care how many handbells or tinkerbells or cowbell they use.

I turn off the radio. Guess the music was a bad idea. Continue reading 'Screw You, Christmas Spirit!'»

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By Jasmine Curry, November 22, 2010 6:00 am

"Please, oh please, let me out of this box!"

I admit it. I have a lot of boxes. A box for friends, and a box for enemies. A box for frenemies, one for family, another for lovers. I even have a box for barely tolerable coworkers. I put the people I trust into one box, and the people I’d like to throw out the window into another box.

And once someone is read, stamped, classified and packed away into a box, it’s almost impossible for them to get out of it.

Take my friend, Greg. We worked together and hung out all the time. And early in our friendship, he dated a friend of mine. He was also younger than me, and our politics did not match up. So, he was in the Friend Box.

A few months later, as we were hanging out and having a great time, he implied that we should date. I informed him that he was off limits since he once dated a friend of mine. This was only partially true. The real truth was that he was in the Friend Box, and I wasn’t going to let him out.

Greg and I may have been incredibly compatible. Or we may have completely ruined a perfectly good friendship if we dated. We’ll never know. Once in the Friend Box, always in the Friend Box.

I was so good at pigeonholing men into “datable” and “not datable.” But, aren’t we all? Doesn’t everyone have some way of categorizing the opposite sex?

My system was working just fine. Until one day I discovered it wasn’t. Continue reading 'I Put Men In Boxes'»

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By Jasmine Curry, October 25, 2010 6:00 am

She's got a huge red flag. Why are you ignoring it?

I just went to a friend’s wedding. Instead of jumping for joy that someone else was joining the club, though, my husband and I found ourselves thinking, “oh, no. They have no idea what they are in for.”

I shouldn’t be such a pessimist. This particular couple is incredibly compatible. But, there have been a string of divorces in my circle recently, and I think it comes down to one issue:

Ignoring the red flags.

All three of the girls I know whose marriages are ending have said the same thing: “I always felt like I was having sex with my brother.”

Ouch! If that’s not a red flag, I don’t know what is. So, why did they all ignore the flag and get married, anyway?

Perhaps it’s the need for stability. For some reason, we as a society think that if we are married, life can begin (those who think that life ends when you get married notwithstanding). Most agree that getting married means we won’t be alone ever again. And I mean ever. Like, if we need just one moment to ourselves, we are probably not going to get it. Ever.

But, we think we need to be with someone. And so, we get married… even though we know that we really want children, while he has made it clear that having kids is off the table.

Perhaps we ignore the red flag because we are getting older and thinking, “well, we want the same things, have the same goals, and it’s high time I get married before my window of opportunity closes.” So, we rush to have the wedding and start having children… only to discover that our atheism doesn’t fit with his desire to raise our children in a church.

Or maybe some of us just aren’t any good at being single. So, we look the other way at what we think isn’t that important. We tell ourselves that relationships are all about compromise.

The problem is, the red flags don’t go away. And if we don’t stand for what is truly important to us (and perhaps we didn’t even know just how important it was at the time), we lose not only ourselves in the marriage, but potentially the marriage, itself. Continue reading 'The Curse Of The Red Flag'»

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By Jasmine Curry, February 9, 2010 9:59 am

How can we learn to love unconditionally?

I just had an epiphany.

First, a little back-story:

I grew up without a father. I had a mother, and two grandparents, and an uncle, all who loved me unconditionally. Well, I admit, I really only felt that from my mother and grandfather. My grandmother and uncle, I am sure, loved me unconditionally. I just never had as much contact with them to really know for sure.

I grew up knowing I was something special. But as I became an adult, something happened. I was always striving to please everyone, and yet, I always felt like I came up short. My personality, my body language—who knows—put people off. As happens in our lives, I began to have unintentional conflicts with my colleagues and my friends. For some reason, they never understood that I loved them unconditionally.

I was always pissing people off. Continue reading 'My “Ah-Ha!” Moment'»

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By Jasmine Curry, January 27, 2010 9:40 pm

I am married. I have a great husband.  I have a beautiful daughter. There is only one thing missing from my life:

I need a wife.

I want someone to yell at when I get home from work and the house isn’t as clean as I think it should be.

I want someone who takes care of me when I am sick.

I want someone who cooks dinner every night.

I want someone who always gets the groceries done.

I want someone who will pay all of the bills, balance the checkbook and keep the household on budget so that I never have to worry about something going past due, or bouncing a check.

Relationships are hard- life is harder. Man, wouldn’t it just be nice to know that someone was just taking care of everything for you?

Oh, wait. That’s what mom’s are for. I guess it’s our mother’s fault- they did everything for us, and took care of the house, but in turn they taught our generation that the woman is the one who does it all.

I am not saying that my husband doesn’t do anything. It’s just that sometimes I don’t want to have to do my job as a wife. I want a wife to do my job for me.

Guess that’s why people get personal assistants.

And maids.

Okay, I change my request:

I want a million dollars.

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By Jasmine Curry, December 23, 2009 8:00 am

What Kalena teaches us

The one thing about having kids is, it sure does put your life into perspective. Just when things are getting us down, she puts a little spark in our day. Here’s what I’ve learned this week:

On Exercise: Who needs a gym when you’ve got a mattress? Jumping up and down on the bed is sure to burn calories. Just don’t fall off the bed- that’s sure to cause five minutes of tears.

On Eating: Eating food is more fun if you make as big of a mess as possible. Swing your spoon around, eat with your hands, and hold the plate up to your face to lick all the remains off. This is especially fun if you have someone around to clean up the whole mess.

On Keeping It Clean: Bath time is the most fun time of all. Take a few toys into the bath with you and play. If you sit there long enough, all the grime just falls off. Much more enjoyable than the usual lather, rinse and repeat.

On Getting What You Want: It’s amazing how far a simple “please oh please” will get you. No one wants to say “no” to you when you are so damn precious. Just remember to say “thank you much” once you’ve gotten what you want. Whining, however, will get you nowhere.

On Being Broke: Continue reading 'Things My Two-Year-Old Has Taught Me'»