Posted by Ilana Angel
When I was young I took piano lessons. I hated them. I begged my mother to let me stop and she said I would regret it if I quit. I told her if I was not allowed to stop I was going to lock myself in my room and never come out. I quit piano. My mother was right, I regret quitting to this day.
When I was young I took ballet lessons. I hated them. I begged my mother to let me stop and she said I would regret it if I quit. I told her if I was not allowed to stop I was going to scratch off all my freckles with sandpaper. I quit ballet. My mother was right, I regret quitting to this day.
I love the piano. I would give anything to be able to sit down at the piano and play. I love ballet. I sit and watch the poetry of movement and am transported into the beauty. I never understood the importance of the arts as a child, but as a mother I am passionate about their importance.
The arts are a relevant part of the life I lead with my son. He is an actor, director, comedian, and writer. He wants to pursue a career in the arts and so I support him. I was hoping medical school was an option, but will happily watch him playing a doctor on the big screen instead.
I am blessed that my son goes to a school with arts. It is very sad to me that so many art programs are being cut from schoos due to budget cuts. Arts matter and should be provided to all children, in all schools. Arts make kids happy and help them to become well-rounded adults.
I complain about the budget cuts at my son’s school and I try to make a difference by volunteering and donating money. This week however, a child schooled me in how to really do it. A remarkable girl by the name of Jennifer took matters into her own hands and kicked ass.
Jennifer put on a show this week to raise money for arts in her school. This young girl and her mother, my friend Elizabeth, produced a show called “Pure Broadway – A Cabaret for a Cause” and brought in $30,000 to Jenny’s school to use toward putting on a musical theater production.
It was a wonderful evening and I enjoyed every second of it. Hosted by Broadway legend Carole Cook, it was a mixture of professional performers and theater students. If you didn’t know who the students were, you’d be hard pressed to know the difference as everyone was that good.
Carole Cook was amazing. She is a real old-fashioned broad and she had us all rolling with her shtick. A woman named Kathy Deitch sand a song from Wicked that gave me goose bumps, and Timothy Quinlan sang a song from the Full Monty that made me swoon. The talent was insane.
Jenny sang a song that blew me way. She is so talented and beautiful. Her friend Allison channeled Judy Garland in her number and I was amazed by these kids. Not only by their talent, but their heart and soul. If this is the future of the arts we have a very bright future indeed.
I am in awe of this young girl, and am so proud of her amazing mother for what they did. Instead of complaining about the cut of arts, they jumped in with both feet and made a real difference. They entertained us all and showed that change is possible if you are willing to work for it.
If you have children, are a patron of the arts, and understand how vital these programs are to our children, I hope you will be inspired to help in your own way, for schools that are important to you. I am proud to know Elizabeth and Jenny, and was honored to see all their show.
School is hard. Not just academically, but emotionally. For me the arts provided a fun and safe outlet for me to be me. For my son, the arts will shape his future. When it comes to arts being cut from the education of our kids, we need to take a stand, and keep the faith.
12.19.13 at 2:57 am | My son has a free schlepping service.
12.12.13 at 8:05 am | Well played my son. Well played.
12.11.13 at 6:58 am | I watch in awe and stare with envy at these. . .
12.5.13 at 3:16 pm | Heaven has received a blessing today.
12.3.13 at 3:05 pm | Every time I go into the kitchen I half expect to. . .
11.30.13 at 10:42 am | "The only correct actions are those that demand. . .
9.15.13 at 3:14 pm | I love you Russell Brand. (401)
12.12.13 at 8:05 am | Well played my son. Well played. (253)
7.25.11 at 5:38 pm | We need more Jews! (246)
November 9, 2012 | 9:10 am
Posted by Ilana Angel
I am complicated. Not difficult, just complicated. I have a vision for my life that has not changed since I was a little girl. I always wanted to be a mom. I am. I always wanted to move to Los Angeles. I did. I always wanted to work in Hollywood. I do. I always wanted to meet the man of dreams. I have.
I have met a wonderful man who has shown me a kindness unlike any other man I have ever known. He understands that I am complicated and when that crosses over into being difficult, he rolls with it. By crosses over of course I mean it hardly ever happens. Like hardly ever. Never really.
I am part of an us for the first time in a very long time, and I am scared. Our relationship is very, very good, and that freaks me out. I have been so disappointed in the past, that the stupid girl part of my heart is waiting for it to be over. Luckily, the wise girl part of my heart is stronger.
I could not sleep last night and sat up for hours thinking about things that should not be thought about for more than a second, and certainly not in the middle of the night. I thought about them. Them being the men who I have had relationships with in the past. Not comparing, just thinking.
My Englishman is unlike any man I have dated before. I thought that was a bad thing because I was certain he was not my type. I realize now that because he is unlike them, he is actually exactly my type. He makes me laugh, brings me joy, loves my son, and makes me feel safe.
It is Shabbat. I am going to turn off my fears, go to temple, pray, and bring in Shabbat with gratitude. My dreams have come true and rather than question why, I need to thank God for my good fortune. His hand is firmly placed on my shoulder, and he has led me here.
To my Englishman, I love you. Shabbat will mark eight months that we have known each other. On our first date you put your hand on the small of my back and guided me out of the restaurant. It was a small gesture, but I saw true romance in it, and so it got you a second date.
Thank you for appreciating and understanding I am complicated and not difficult. Thank you for laughing when I label myself as complicated, rather than difficult. Thank you for holding my hand, reminding me that after dark comes light, and that dreams come true when keeping the faith.
Heart beats fast
Colors and promises
How to be brave
How can I love when I'm afraid to fall
But watching you stand alone
All of my doubt suddenly goes away somehow
One step closer
- Christina Perri
October 26, 2012 | 3:31 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
Earlier in the week I was running an errand when I came upon a homeless man standing outside a Payless Shoe Store. He appeared to be in his 60’s, but I bet he was younger. As I passed him he asked me if I wanted to go with him to Paris for the weekend. I let him know that I was flattered, and was I not dating someone, I would have happily jetted off with him. I gave him $2, told him he made me day, and we parted ways.
I immediately called the Englishman and let him knew he better be on his game because there was a line forming of men who wanted to whisk me away to Paris. He laughed, but seriously, I was not kidding. I have had an emotional week. I’ve been stressed, tired, worried, and somewhat overwhelmed. Not anything in particular, just a bunch of little things that gathered all together have been quite draining and Paris souded pretty good.
I am one that always counts my blessings. There are days however when I forget. By forget of course I mean I’m just not in the mood. It’s not that I can’t be bothered, or that I’m wallowing in self-pity, it’s just that I’m tired and I know God will lead me back to gratitude. No matter how stressed I am, or how much I think things suck, at the end of the day I am very aware of exactly how lucky of a girl I am.
Today I was back in the same area and I saw the homeless man from earlier in the week sitting on the sidewalk. As I approached he asked if I wanted to go with him to San Francisco for the weekend. I started laughing and reminded him that earlier in the week he had invited me to Paris. Without skipping a beat, he looked me in the eye and said, “I’ve fallen on hard times this week, but it will still be a great weekend”.
I started to laugh and before I could control myself, I began to cry. I hit a wall and it all just came pouring out. The man looked at me as if I was crazy, then started to dig through his backpack. As I told him I was sorry, and he offered me a handkerchief. Who uses a handkerchief anymore? I had already grabbed Kleenex from my purse, so I thanked him and blew my nose in a rather unladylike way. That made him laugh.
We got to talking and he shared a story with me that I am going to keep to myself, and cherish forever. I told him I was a writer and was going to write about how kind he was. He told me, “No names and no pictures. I’m so old I’ve forgotten who could be looking for me, so you must protect me.” We were now both laughing and in the middle of the street, I was able to see my blessings with profound clarity with the help of a stranger.
I asked the man if he needed anything and he said he could use some shoes so if he needed to run, he’d be ready. We walked up the street to a Payless Shoe store and I bought him some new sneakers. I gave him $20 cash, and I thanked him for being so kind. He thanked me in return, gave me his handkerchief as a thank you gift, and we parted ways with the promise that if I ever found myself single, I’d look him up.
Being kind is free, and it really matters. This man showed me kindness and his sense of humor put a smile on my face, and in my heart. I am going to spend the weekend with my son, who is my greatest blessing. I hope you all take a minute to find a blessing in your life and be thankful. Shabbat Shalom and have a great weekend. Be safe, be brave, be kind, breathe deeply, and remember to keep the faith.
October 23, 2012 | 3:54 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
I sometimes feel very alone in terms of my life as a mother. I don’t always relate to other moms. I often think people just don’t get how hard it is to be a single mom, or even how much joy I get from being the mother to only one child. I am raising him alone and it is hard. It is really, really hard.
When I see mothers at the store with a bunch of kids, I stare, wondering what life would be like if I had more children. When I see families together, I wonder what my life would have been like had I stayed in my marriage. I often wonder if my son thinks I am a good mother to him.
I am outspoken as a mother. I don’t worry about upsetting my child in terms of my choices. or embarrassing him. Whether it means not letting him take the car, or missing out on party, or staying home to do homework when everyone else is out, I don’t care. I am focused on his wellbeing.
He may not always like the choices I make, but in the end he understands. He knows that I am a worrier and can be over protective, but he also knows I want the best for him, am his number one fan, and that I want for him all the things he wants for himself, plus more. My love is clear.
We may not be the richest people, have the biggest house, or the nicest cars, but we have each other. We are close in a way that is defined by our path together. It has been him and me against the world, and with the world now knocking on his door, we are both scared.
I have always been scared. I am actually scared of a lot of things, which is weird because in many ways I am quite fearless. When it comes to motherhood though, fear is ever present. I worry about his safety, his choices, his future, his health, his heart, and his emotions.
I am clear on what my fears are, but as he gets older, I don’t know what his fears are. He used to be afraid of the dark when he was little, and now prefers to sleep in darkness. He used to be afraid of thunder and lightening, and now likes to sit outside to watch nature at work.
Last night my son came into my room, laid his head in my lap, and said he loved me. I said I loved him too and he sat up, looked me in the eye and said, “No really Mom. I love you. I want you to know I really love you”. I sat up and waited for the shoe to drop on really bad news.
I was certain he was going to tell me he crashed the car, did drugs, or had a drink. My mind was racing through all my fears as I calmly asked if everything was okay. My little baby, who I love so much, told me he was scared to leave me and go to college. He has fear about his future.
He said he did not know how he would handle college, and was worried about not only how he would do, but how I would do. He spoke of being worried about me being alone. He said I spend so much time being him mom, he wonders if I will be sad when he goes and my job is done.
I have been afraid of his leaving since the day he was born. I wanted to raise a good man, and if I allow myself to reflect on our time together, I can see that I have accomplished exactly what I hoped for. My heart will break when he goes to college, but it will also soar, and burst with joy.
I have often thought about my fear, but rarely think about his fear. His fear is actually more debilitating than mine because I am a grown up, and he is just a child. I have lived a full life out in the world, and he has lived a full life within the boundaries of the safe world I created for him.
When he was young he used to worry I would find love and not love him as much. I promised him I would not have a man in my life until he told me he was ready, and I would never have another baby so he could always be my number one. I have honored my promises to him.
My son will soon turn 17 and begin his journey to college. He has clear ideas of where he wants to go, what he wants to study, and the career he wants. He is doing exactly what he wants and I support him 100%. I get his choices, understand his passion, and believe in him.
He is strong and focused. He understands my fears and embraces me as I sometimes struggle to do it on my own. Last night he gave me insight into his fears and it was sweet. I never knew he was scared. It turns out I am not alone in my fear because we have one heart.
It was a touching moment for me as a mother. In hearing of his fear, I was able to quiet mine. I need to focus on assuring him we are both going to be fine. He has become all the things I have raised him to be, and my job now is to teach him to see himself as I do.
He is going to change the world for the better. He will be an amazing boyfriend, husband, father, grandfather, and professional. With every dream he makes come true for himself, will be a dream of mine coming true also. I want him to live his life out loud and without any fear.
By without any fear of course I mean I want him to have enough fear to help him make good decisions. When I gave birth to this child I was able to see God. Not only see him, but feel him, thank him, and share my good fortune with him. My son is a blessing.
I am proud of him. Proud of his Jewish worldview, proud of how he loves me, proud of how he takes care of me, proud of how he dreams, hopes, prays, laughs, cries, hopes, and thinks. I can see myself in his heart and that is all I ever wanted. I can let him go because I am a part of him.
It is an interesting time in a mother’s life when she realizes her baby is heading out into the world. I am one mother, who has raised one child. We share one fear, and one day, sooner than I can believe, he will wave goodbye. The day is coming, and together we will keep the faith.
October 17, 2012 | 7:57 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
A friend of mine lost his mother last week. I went to sit Shiva and was truly touched by the loss. I cried for the pain I felt for my friend, and also for the loss of my own father. Losing a parent is crushing. My father has been gone for over 10 years and I still find myself calling him on occasion. When I hear the recording telling me his number is no longer in service, it still takes me a minute to understand. I miss him so much.
My father died from cancer, and while it was devastating to watch him suffer, the blessing was I got to spend time with him, knowing he was dying, and being able to leave no words unspoken. My father passed way with a true understanding of how much I loved him, respected him, and thought he was a wonderful human being. I miss him every single day and am blessed to see glimpses of him in both myself, and my son.
Ever since I became a mother I have had an irrational fear of death. I cannot bear the thought of leaving my child. I want to see the dreams he has for himself come true, as well as the dreams I have for him. I want to give him a standing ovation when he graduates from high school, kvell when he gets into his dream college, dance at his wedding, babysit his children, and grow old while I watch him grow old.
One of my irrational single mother fears is that my son will not ever understand how much I love him. By irrational, of course I mean I feel it in my heart, even though my mind knows it is silly. Should anything happen to me, there will be nobody to tell him. My family will help him know how much I love him of course, but they live far away and don't see our life up close. There has not been a real witness to my life as a mother as it has simply been him and me.
I have had a stressful week with work, family, relationships, and motherhood. Work is busy and there are not enough hours in the day. My family is far away and I am feeling the void that distance brings. My Englishman is a wonderful boyfriend, terrific father, and business owner, so with our busy and full lives, our time together is limited with both of us having teenagers at home. I want to be with him more, and I miss him.
My son is almost 17 and I can honestly say he has been a true pleasure to raise. There are challenges to be sure, but I am very lucky because he is a hard worker, with a strong moral compass, and a kind heart. He loves me in a profound way and we have a strong connection. He is dealing with an insane amount of homework, and trying to figure out what he wants to do with his life. Those pressures, along with regular teenage angst, are causing tension.
I found myself crying today for so many reasons. I have a spider bite on my right eye, which has caused it to swell shut. I yelled at my son over homework. It was my sister’s birthday and I was not there to hug her. My mother told me she misses my dad so much she can’t breathe. I was so tired last night that I stayed home instead of going to see the Englishman on one of the rare nights my son was sleeping out. It all came crashing down and I cried like a baby.
I am clearly wallowing in a bit of self-pity, which I think is perfectly fine and totally allowed on occasion. Sometimes life becomes overwhelming and you need to break down in order to build yourself up. My Englishman called whlle I was crying and I shared all my concerns with him through sobs. He listened, let me go on and on, then spoke to me in a kind and gentle tone, in his divine English accent, with words that dried my tears and brought me peace.
He told me I was a brilliant mother. He shared that in the time we have known each other, he has seen how I love my son and that while nothing is going to happen to me, I can rest assured that he will make sure my son understands how much I love him, and what being his mother has meant to me. He said he admired me as a woman and a mom. The Englishman is my boyfriend, friend, father, lawyer, therapist, lover, teacher, nurse, Rabbi, and financial advisor.
He is the man of my dreams and has become a witness to my life. Relationships are hard. Not only relationships we have with each other, but the relationship we have with ourselves. I am very critical of me, and don’t cut myself a lot of slack. It is a blessing the Englishman can share how he sees me. At the end of the day I must remember that if God leads me to it, he will lead me through it. I am not going anywhere, so I need to relax, and continue to keep the faith.
October 14, 2012 | 9:08 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
After 7 months of dating, and a slow and steady stroll to love, the Englishman is taking my son and me to England to meet his family for two weeks in December. By slow and steady, of course I mean that I have loved him since our first date, but it took me months to allow myself to not only enjoy it, but label it. I am still nervous and scared that I am going to be hurt by love, but I can now say, with no hesitation, that I am in love.
I am my true self with this man. I have no fear of judgment and that is a freedom that every woman should feel. When I am sarcastic he laughs at me, when I am moody he tolerates me, when I am uncertain he assures me, when I am crazy he embraces me, and when I am nervous that something bad will happen because I am not sure that I am deserving of a true love, he loves me enough to make me believe that my days of heartache are over.
When I am in sweatpants and my hair is in a ponytail, he tells me I look beautiful. When we are busy with work and cannot speak, he texts me to say he misses me. When I blog about him, sharing our relationship with people I feel connected to, but are complete strangers to him, he tells me he is proud of my work. When my last relationship ended I was certain I would never love anyone again.
I am a mother, daughter, sister, friend, girlfriend, ex-wife, employee, employer, lover, woman, coward, and superhero. I am all of these things every single day, and finding a balance is hard. I don’t know that I would have made it to this place in my romantic life were it not for this blog and those who read it. I don’t like to ask for help, but luckily for me, you never waited for me to ask, you simply offered your kindness to a stranger.
The truth is that I don’t think of you as strangers at all. Some of you are actually guardian angels to me. You have taken this journey with me, and when I stumbled you picked me up. When I was ready to dump the Englishman because I was scared, you gave me light to find my way. When I wanted to walk away before I got hurt, even though there was no indication hurt was coming, you kicked me in the butt and told me to stop.
To the women who have been broken and managed to find love again, you encouraged me by sharing your own stories of hope and survival. To the women who gave up on love and now regret they didn’t allow themselves to love again, you shared your cautionary tales and told me to learn from your mistakes. You have all been brave and I am forever grateful. Each time my Englishman tells me he loves me, I thank God for all of you.
When I hug my child, I hang on for a second longer because I think of all the mothers who have lost children. When I hug my Englishman, I hang on for a second longer for every single woman who is searching for love. When I meet the Englishman’s father, I will hang on a second longer for all the hugs I wish I could give my beloved father. When I hug the Englishman’s mother, I will hang on a second longer as I pray that she really likes me.
I have had my heart broken by love, and even worse, my spirit broken by men who where unkind. I have cried more than I laughed, and now I feel that my Prince Charming has come. Finally. It’s about time too because I was one cat away from being beyond help. I am going to England and I cannot wait. I have not been to London in 14 years, and the last time I was there it was for business and a quick trip with no time for sightseeing or shopping.
I am going to see London this time through the eyes of a man who loves it so much. It is his home and I can’t wait. I’m also getting to experience my son’s first trip to Europe and that is beyond exciting. I am also going to Manchester, which is where my father grew up, for the first time. I will see his family, be in the city he loved so much, and I will get to share it all with my son. My dad watches over me and I know he is excited about the trip.
I am excited to sit in the kitchen of the Englishman’s mother and hear stories of him as a child. I want to cook a lovely meal for his dad and younger brother, and I want to play with his nephews and have a cup of tea with his other brother and sister-in-law. I want to experience his family in a way that will give me memories for a lifetime. I have not met them, but I love them all already, and my heart is full when I think about our trip.
I am 46 years old and I believe I have found my beshert. Every road travelled, both happy and sad, has led me to this man and I am blessed. His taking me home to meet his parents is a romantic gesture on the grandest scale, and I am happy to share it with you. By share it, of course I mean I am taking you all with me. You are my friends, my teachers, my inspirations, and one of the strongest reasons that I am able to keep the faith.
October 7, 2012 | 1:10 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
Sex changes for women as we get older. We go from no experience and thinking all sex is good, to having enough experiences to be able to tell the difference between good and bad sex. We want meaningful sex, but discover that not only does meaningful not necessarily mean good, sometimes not meaningful sex can be mind blowing. I believe sex helps us define who we are as women.
Sex is empowering, but also crippling. It can make us feel feminine, and also give us balls. It can make us cry in a good way, and bad way. Sex can give us faith, and crush our spirit. Sex is a way to find love, or end love. Sex is best, in my opinion, when it is monogamous. It shapes a love affair and romance. I do not believe sex should be a goal. Sadly, I’m learning for a lot of women, it is.
I recently met a woman who told me she was not interested in a relationship, just wanted to have sex with a man who would treat her with kindness and buy her gifts. She is 41, broken from a divorce, and so untrusting of love that sex is her new fairytale. She wants to feel like a woman, while erasing all the feelings that come with being a woman. Many women want this new fairytale.
Have men hurt women so often that getting laid is now enough? Is putting a Band-Aid on a gaping wound going to make it better? Are woman scared to fall in love because the loss of it is so painful? Is having a purely sexual relationship the away to go? Can women even have sex without emotion? Not only emotion for the person they are with, but the emotion that comes with being a woman?
If you have a sexual realtionship with a man, and he takes you out and buys you things, won't feelings come? Will the hopeful heart that lies buried in every broken woman's heart not shine through? I like to think that as long as I have faith I will find my way to love without having to shut down the hopeful side of my battered and occassionally bitter heart. Faith in myself and God.
Sex is an important part of a relationship and fairytales are elusive. Sex is a great part of being a grown up, and personally I would not be in a relationship that did not include sex. I want to feel desired and also want to feel the power that comes with desiring my partner. Can we have it all? Do we need to label relationships as sexual? We assume couples are having sex, but maybe not.
Maybe people are having arrangements rather than relationships. Women are approaching sex with broken hearts, rather than hopeful hearts. Is the fear of being hurt enough to make us undervalue ourselves? How quickly one stops judging a whore when she realizes she has become one herself. It is disappointing that I define this sexual view as that of a whore.
Being free to have sex without involving your heart does not make you a whore. It does not even make you a slut. All it does is make you a woman with a different view. We all see love and sex differently. I see them as one, but I may be the minority. I have been single for more time than I have been in relationships, yet my hopeful heart still shapes the view I have of sex and love.
I want an old fashioned fairytale. I want to be with a man who fulfills me emotionally, intellectually, and sexually. Not only do I want it, but I deserve it. \We all deserve it. Even if you may not want it, you still deserve it. The question is not whether I can find a fairytale, but rather how long it will last when it is found. Time and luck will tell, but I will help by keeping the faith.
October 2, 2012 | 6:26 pm
Posted by Ilana Angel
Why is it that when you are single you cannot find a decent guy to date, but when you are in a relationship, men are not only everywhere, but they are interested in you? I have been dating the Englishman for almost 7 months and I have never had so many men ask me out. Very strange.
When I was out running errands yesterday, a man asked me if we knew each other. He looked a little familiar, but I think it was probably from a fantasy of mine, not because we knew each other. He was a very handsome man with an easy smile and curly grey hair. For a minute I fluttered.
We chatted for a couple of minutes while he tried to figure out how we new each other. By figure out of course I mean his ploy to keep a conversation going was both pathetic and admirable. He finally gave up on the charade and asked me if he could take me out for dinner sometime.
I thanked him for the invitation and told him I was dating someone. He blushed a little and said it was to be expected, which made me laugh. Once the pressure of asking me out was gone, we had an interesting conversation about how hard it was to date when you are older.
He is 54, divorced with grown kids, and has been on his own for just over a year. He has absolutely no game, but his attractiveness certainly helps him out. His ex-wife just remarried and he is feeling vulnerable, like a bit of a loser, and unsure why he is having such a hard time.
He told me that when he was married, women hit on him all the time, but since being single women don’t seem to be that into him. Our bodies give out a signal when we are available that is clearly some kind of a repellant, and we smell delicious when we are in a relationship.
I can remember dating men who made me want to vomit, and men who actually did vomit, and thinking I was going to die alone in line at the animal shelter getting another cat. There are a lot of freaks out there but there are also decent and kind people.
Turns out dating is not about luck or fate, as much as it is about smell. We can give off a smell of contentment or desperation, so we need to be careful. I am in love and giving off a smell of happiness, which men are attracted to that. Happiness smells better than bitterness.
I was alone for a long time and having found someone whose company I enjoy is really wonderful. When a man hits on me now it makes me proud and happy. Proud that I smell like happiness not desperation, and happy that I don’t need to play the dating game any longer.
To be clear, even though I am in a serious and committed relationship with the Englishman, it is still a game. I am navigating the choppy waters of love and it is hard, but there is comfort in knowing who I am dealing with. When you date someone new, there is a lot of unknown.
I know exactly what I am dealing with in my relationship because there are no surprises or skeletons at this point. Important to note that last sentence is complete crap. There are no guarantees in any relationship but time is making us stronger, and our fear weaker.
The only thing that matters is that I am in love and I stink of happiness. I believe we have the power to change the scent we give off, and so I hope those who are alone and looking are able to make themselves stink, so they find love. Think positive, and keep the faith.