#BecomingFlawesome Blog Tour

 

Being described as “10 years worth of therapy in one book,” Becoming Flawesome is a celebration of our whole selves, warts and all, and the glory that is to be found in living in our truth…

Title: Becoming Flawesome
Author: Kristina Mand-Lakhiani
Publisher: Hay House Publishing
Pages: 280
Genre: Nonfiction

Perfection. We all dream of living by it, feeling it, being it…

And it is in the name of perfection that we demonise our flaws, make ourselves ‘less-than,’ and render ourselves vulnerable to the shame of not being good enough.

We live in a society that subliminally encourages us to wear metaphorical masks, slay our inner sadness, and ignore our imperfections, or as Kristina refers to them, her ‘dragons.’ Even within the world of personal development and spirituality, toxic perfectionism lurks in the shadows.

In Kristina’s upcoming book Becoming Flawesome #BecomingFlawesome, she reflects on her own story, her battle against perfectionism, and what it took for her to return to what she now deems to be her most authentic self. Being described as “10 years worth of therapy in one book,” Becoming Flawsome is a celebration of our whole selves, warts and all, and the glory that is to be found in living in our truth.

Every chapter is closed with reflection points and exercises to encourage the readers to dive deep into the essence of who they truly are, what their values are, and how to navigate an oftentimes overwhelming world.

In this book, Kristina breaks the mould as she takes the reader on a journey through:

• The dark, controversial side of ‘personal growth,’ and the insecurities that thrive on it

• Self-care vs self-love, and why you need both

• What authenticity actually is, beyond the buzz

• The ‘Hermione Syndrome,’ and how to diagnose if you’re secretly suffering from it

• How to create aligned lifestyle habits that stick

• Why the more you judge others, the more you judge yourself

• Societal masks, and how to remove them from your psyche 

• Imposter syndrome in the world of high-flyers 

• Emotional literacy: how to cope with strong, painful emotions healthily 

Amazon: https://tinyurl.com/mwtzj3jx 

Mind Valley Books: https://www.mindvalley.com/books/flawesome 

Book Excerpt  

The Key to Living an Imperfectly Authentic Life

Introduction

Let’s Begin

It is a truth universally acknowledged, that a good book has to start with a proper introduction.

And by “proper” I mean that it has to prime the reader for the journey, raise excitement and set expectations, explain the process, and make reading the book an experience both profitable and smooth. After all, we are about to spend some time together on this journey.

Therefore, I was not surprised when on the first meeting with my publisher I was asked if I would consider writing a proper introduction to my book. You see—the original manuscript started with a story of me pondering my future book while standing in the shower, warm water running down my back, and my finger absentmindedly drawing random patterns on the fogged-up glass.

I started this book during the long years of successive COVID confinements, and I was planning to self-publish it because I wanted the freedom to make decisions about the book—how to write, what to write, what stories to include, what kind of experience to offer to my reader. So, naturally, it wasn’t following any universally acknowledged truths or conventions.

Yet, by the time I had to present my book-baby to the world, I felt that I wanted to give it the best possible future, and I had to face the big decision between my heart and my brain: Will it be self-published (heart), or will I work with a traditional publisher (brain)? Going the traditional way meant facing more choices between my quirky and obstinate self-expression and conventional ways of doing things.

This book is about finding your way back to yourself, about understanding who you really are, accepting your dents and scratches, your quirky uniqueness and even your flaws. It is about thriving in being unapologetically you, most flawesomely.

This book has been through the hands of several editors ever since I put the last stop on its original manuscript. This journey has been both emotional and transformative for me. I had to face my biggest dragon by far—my obstinate need for pure self-expression—over and over again.

When do you follow convention, and when do you stick to your own principles and values?

There is no simple answer to this question, except: you have to learn to balance.

If you follow all the rules that your peers expect you to follow, you bet all there is on a slim chance of the grand prize, but you do it at the price of your own unique self-expression. At times, I felt like I had to “sell my soul to the devil” for a chance at success.

But if you obstinately stick to your own unique quirks and principles, you might end up being unheard and misunderstood so universally that there is no point in writing a book. For it is the readers who make a writer. Without the readers, a book is just a private diary.

Reader, will you judge me if I tell you that this book is a delicate balance between convention and my own uniqueness? Of course, I want you to succeed. But I cannot give you the proper introduction to my book because every book is a journey. This book has been my journey, and

now it is yours. I walked my path to my true self, to understanding what makes me truly me . . .

and what of that unique quirkiness is simply noise. You see, your flaws and your dragons are there for a reason—they make you who you are, but they also hold the key to your biggest value, to your mightiest strengths, if you choose to look your dragons in the eye.

Now I am hoping that you will take this journey with me to your unique destination—to finding the path back to you. I will be your companion on this journey, but it is yours to take.

So why wouldn’t I tell you what’s ahead? Imagine if Gandalf told Bilbo Baggins that on his journey, he would encounter trolls, go through a perilous enchanted forest, and face a dragon in a far-away mountain. Wouldn’t that be a bit of a spoiler?

I want you to take this journey back to you without any spoilers, with an open heart, and trust that the destination is going to be worth your effort. Because becoming flawesome is the best gift you can give to yourself.

So, if you are ready, let’s begin!

More...

 

About the Author

Kristina Mand-Lakhiani is an international speaker, entrepreneur, artist, philanthropist, and mother of 2 kids. As a co-founder of Mindvalley, a leading publisher in the personal growth industry, Kristina dedicated the last 20 years of her career from teachers like Michael Beckwith, Bob Proctor, Lisa Nichols, and many more. 

She started her career in a government office in her native Estonia and, by her mid-20s, achieved a level of success mostly known to male politicians at the end of their careers. It was shortly after that Kristina and her then-husband Vishen founded Mindvalley. From a small meditation business operating out of the couple’s apartment in New York, the company quickly grew into a global educational organization offering top training for peak human performance to hundreds of thousands of students all around the world. 

Kristina believes life is too important to be taken seriously and makes sure to bring fun into every one of her roles: as a teacher, mother, entrepreneur, philanthropist, and world traveller. Kristina helps her students to virtually hack happiness by taking them through her unique framework - “Hacking happiness” - a unique framework of balancing your life, taking in every moment, and paying close attention to the small daily choices.  

Kristina is also the author of three transformational quests - "7 Days To Happiness", "Live By Your Own Rules.” and "The Art of Being Flawesome". Kristina talks about personal transformation, authenticity, understanding and accepting oneself, and a path to happiness.

In July 2023, with the help of Hay House Publishing, Kristina releases her very first book - "Becoming Flawesome" #BecomingFlawesome. In her book, Kristina shares her own journey from being on top of a personal growth empire like Mindvalley to stepping aside, conscious uncoupling from her husband, and walking her path towards being more honest with herself. 

Website: https://kristinamand.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/kristinamand

LinkedIn: https://www.linkedin.com/in/kristina-mand-lakhiani-73168414/

 

 

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✱✱Book Review✱✱ Mermaid Beach Blog Tour

 

"Blooming with heartfelt charm and swoon-worthy moments..." 

- Woman’s World Magazine

 

Title: Mermaid Beach
Author: Sheila Roberts
Publisher: Harlequin Mira
Pages:
Genre: Women's Fiction/Romance

Bonnie Brinks and her all-woman band, The Mermaids, are the pride of Moonlight Harbor. They’re the house band at The Drunken Sailor, and that’s just the right amount of fame for Bonnie. A lifetime ago, she went to Nashville to make it big, but she returned home with a broken heart and broken dreams. Now she’s got a comfortable life and a brilliant daughter, Avril, who plays for The Mermaids alongside Bonnie and Bonnie’s mother, Loretta.

Avril has big dreams of her own. Her life in Moonlight Harbor is good–she loves singing and playing guitar with The Mermaids, and she has the sweetest, most loyal boyfriend a girl could ask for–but it all feels so…small. She can’t help wondering if there’s something more out there for her. And she doesn’t understand why her mom won’t support her going to Nashville to find out.

Meanwhile, Bonnie threw in the towel on her love life long ago, but Loretta sure hasn’t. She’s determined to be swept off her feet, and she wants the same for her daughter. When the hunky new owner of The Drunken Sailor turns the tables on the band and Avril announces she’s leaving Moonlight Harbor, Bonnie’s comfortable life seems to be drifting away. Will these three generations of Mermaids find their happy endings on the Washington coast? Or will the change in the winds leave them all shipwrecked?

“Blooming with heartfelt charm and swoon-worthy moments…” Woman’s World Magazine

Release Date: April 25, 2023

Amazon: https://amzn.to/3D61pi2 

Barnes & Noble: https://bit.ly/3J0dGs0

Target: https://bit.ly/3wlLGaS 

Walmart: https://bit.ly/3XFUB2c

Apple: https://apple.co/3kvheIu  

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/61214883-mermaid-beach 

 

Momma Says: 4 stars⭐⭐⭐⭐

If you're looking for a beach read, look no further. Sheila Roberts's Mermaid Beach is perfect for taking on that beach vacation. Loretta, Bonnie, and Avril: three generations looking for love, or not, and looking for something more.

Small-town romance is one of my favorite tropes in the genre - honestly, pretty much anytime the story takes place in a small town, I'm probably going to enjoy it, whether it's romance or not. There's just something about the small-town charm, and this one is done very well. Of course, there are some glitches along the way for this family, but Roberts tempers the emotional moments with some well-timed wit.

These characters are the kind that get under your skin. By the time I finished the book, I felt like I knew them. To say the least, I really like the story and will be visiting this family again. Mermaid Beach is the 7th book in the Moonlight Harbor series. I haven't had the pleasure of reading the first six books, but I'm gonna go out on a limb here and say this one is a standalone. I didn't feel like I was missing anything. That said, I can hear the earlier books calling my name. Now that I've been introduced to Moonlight Harbor, I feel the need to know more about its inhabitants.

To sum it up, Mermaid Beach is a totally endearing story, and I'd recommend it. 

I'd also like to thank Sheila Roberts for the lovely ARC of Mermaid Beach. It now has a home on my bookshelf where it can rest until I decide to read it again. 

Book Excerpt  

LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT? MEET J.J. AND BONNIE

It was a pleasant ride to the beach. Once he was off I-5 he was on highways that took him through stands of evergreens and logging towns with small houses, many of them forty years old, many of which were being refurbished.

Then he hit Moonlight Harbor with its crazy stone pillars at the entrance, still standing from when the town was first developed in the sixties. The place was a mixture of funky old and upbeat new, the buildings from both eras catering to visitors with restaurants, moped rentals, shops and a fun plex that offered bumper cars and go-carts for entertainment. A family of deer grazed on the grass in the meridian between the two one-way streets running through the town.

Another ten minutes and he was pulling into the driveway of Lee’s beach digs, a three-bedroom rambler with rock for lawn encased in a white picket fence. Lee and his wife were ready for him with a proper Thanksgiving leftover meal of turkey sandwiches, dressing and gravy, and cranberry sauce. Seeing the way they looked at each other about gave him heartburn. 

His ex had looked at him like that about a million years ago. Stupid, fool him. He was a walking morality tale, an example of what happened when a man wound up married to his job instead of his woman. If only she’d given him a fair chance to right that ship. 

“How’s your sandwich?” Glinda asked.

“Great,” he said. “Thanks. And thanks for inviting me down.”

“Sometimes a man’s gotta get some new scenery,” said Lee.

After they ate Glinda made them clean up the kitchen and left to check on things at the pub for Lee and hang out with some girlfriends. 

“She’s a great woman,” J.J. said. 

“That she is,” agreed Lee. “They’re still out there, dude.”

J.J. gave a cynical chuckle. “Yeah, I’m holding my breath.”

“While you’re holding your breath let’s play some cribbage. Tomorrow I’ll take you out to eat.”

They settled down with whiskey and cards and it was a pleasant evening. It sure beat sitting around the condo wondering if he ought to check out an internet dating site.

Saturday found him out on the beach in boots and a thick jacket with his buddy, working a clam gun to capture the elusive razor clam. A weak sun was out and the sand was damp and muddy and the air was crisp. A perfect day. They weren’t the only ones who thought so. The beach was thick with people, all in search of the same delight. 

“You should move down here,” Lee said, as he tossed a clam in their bucket. He wasn’t much taller than J.J. and was built like a tank. In their college days he’d mowed down his opponents on the football field just like one. He’d gotten his education thanks to a college scholarship. J.J. had waited tables and worked in restaurant kitchens. Glinda had already informed him he would be in charge of making the clam chowder for lunch.

“Yeah? So I can grow moss like you? It’s always wet.”

“Not in the summer.”

“Yeah, well let me know when you figure out how to make it summer all year long,” J.J. said.

“Oh, come on. You know you loved it when we went over to Westhaven and went fishing.”

“Just thinking about that halibut we caught makes my mouth water,” J.J. said.

“Fishing, clamming, kayaking on the canals, golfing – it’s the life.”

J.J. brushed the sand off his hands and studied his friend. “Why do I feel like I’m sitting in on a time share pitch?”

Lee shrugged and chuckled. “Just sayin’ it’s a good life down here.”

“For you. You got a great wife and your daughters live nearby.”

Lee sobered. “It sucks that things went sideways with Eloise.”

“It’s been three years. I’m over it.”

“Yeah? You sure?”

“Sure I’m sure. My life’s good. I like my freedom. Got no woman nagging me, no obligations.”

“That bad, huh?”

J.J. gave a rueful smile and shook his head. “Okay, so it’s not perfect.”

“Maybe you need a change.”

“Okay, what’s the hidden agenda?”

“No hidden agenda,” Lee said and suddenly got busy checking to see if they’d reached their limit of clams.

Yep, there was a hidden agenda.

Glinda proved it when, after lunch she said, “Aren’t you tired of city living yet, J.J.?”

He set down his glass of beer and looked from one to the other. “Spill, you two. What’s up?”

They exchanged guilty looks. “Well,” Lee said, “Just thought you might be interested in a new business opportunity.”

“Oh, no. You got sucked into a pyramid scheme,” J.J. said in horror. 

Lee made a face. “No.”

“The pub’s failing. You need a silent partner. No problem.” It would be the least he could do. He’d helped his buddy get into this mess.

J.J. had come down to Moonlight Harbor ten years earlier when his pal had told him about the little beach town pub he wanted to buy, had looked over the books with Lee and the owner, then given it a thumbs up, although he’d been concerned about Lee getting into the restaurant business. 

“It’s a tough business,” he’d cautioned. “When you buy a restaurant, it owns you.” He knew that from personal experience. 

“I can make a go of it,” Lee had said. “We want out of the city and Glinda’s up for it.”

“Okay, then,” J.J. had said.

He’d shared his expertise with his friend and Lee had done okay. But they hadn’t talked much in the last couple of years. Between getting divorced and getting his feet back under him J.J. had been a little distracted. Obviously, Lee’s investment had gone south.

“The pub’s doing great,” Lee said. 

Well, so much for that conclusion. “Then what’s up?”

“What’s up is that it’s time to sell the business. The girls are grown and one’s had the nerve to move out of state. Glinda wants to start traveling.”

“You want your life back.”

Lee chuckled. “Something like that. I was thinking maybe you might want yours back, too.”

So this was where they were going. J.J. held up a hand. “Oh, no. No more restaurants. Too much work.”

“Yeah, and you’re so busy.”

“I’ll admit I’m kind of at loose ends, but I don’t think I want to work that hard.”

“I’ve already done all the hard work.”

“Yeah, right.” When you owned a business, it owned you. And restaurants …

“Never mind,” said Lee. “Let’s go play some pool. You can check out the house band.”

“You got a house band? What are they, a bunch of grungy kids in their twenties?”

Lee smiled at that. “Not quite. It’s a chick band.”

“A chick band. Interesting. So, three grungy chicks in their twenties.”

“Nope. Mother, daughter and granddaughter. They had another but she’s off to Nashville to try and become a star. They’re still good though, especially the lead singer. That woman sings like an angel, sometimes like a little devil. And she is something fine to look at. They’ve really been packing in the crowds on the weekend.”

“That’s good.”

“The place is doing well,” said Lee. “I know you shouldn’t do business with friends, but since you were in the restaurant business and since you’re the man with the business degree, I thought I’d give you first crack at it.” He suddenly looked wistful. “I kind of hate to let the place go. It’s like losing a part of me.”

J.J. nodded. “I know how you feel. I hated to let go of my places. Did it all for nothing,” he said bitterly.

His words brought on an awkward silence. He should have kept his shit to himself. He shook off the downer moment. “Let’s shoot some pool.”

“Good idea,” said Lee. “And, J.J., I get you not wanting to get sucked into this business again. I’d have liked you to be the one who takes over The Drunken Sailor, but no worries. The right owner will show up.”

Maybe the right owner had showed up, J.J. thought as they drank beer and waited their turn at one of the pool tables. The place was packed. Lots of out of towners, but Lee said he had a ton of regulars who came in during the week as well. Line dancing lessons were offered on Sunday afternoons followed by line dancing. A lot of the old guys came in mid-week to play darts and Lee had recently started a Ladies night, with half-off on drinks on Tuesdays and pool lessons taught by some of the better players, including a guy named Seth Waters, who had been regular before he got married. According to Lee, he still came in to play pool on Sundays while his wife and her girlfriends line danced.

“You’ve done a great job of making this the place to be,” J.J. said as they moved to take their turn at a table that had opened up.

“I like to think so,” said Lee. “Thank God I got lots of good free advice from a pro when I first started.

“What are friends for?” J. J. responded. He selected a cue stick and chalked it up.

“Go ahead and break,” Lee said. 

J.J. took aim at the cue ball, sending it clacking into the others. He sunk one of the striped ones and then proceeded to clean the table.

“Save some for me,” Lee protested.

“Oh, yeah, I can’t let you lose. It would hurt your delicate feelings,” J.J. taunted.

“And then I’d hurt your delicate nose,” Lee shot back.

J.J. did miss the next ball. He stood back and let Lee take his turn.

It was the end of the game for him because he caught sight of a woman with long, red hair, a face that would launch a thousand ships, and legs that wouldn’t quit walking into the place. She wore a short black leather jacket, hanging open to reveal a lowcut green top cover a very nice rack. Those fine legs were encased in tight jeans. She wore black boots that made him think of pirates and was carrying a guitar case. Holy Moly! Was that a member of the band Lee had told him about?

Lee caught him staring. “That’s Bonnie Brinks, one of The Mermaids.”

“I wouldn’t mind hooking her on my line.”

“Fat chance. She’s a smiling ice maiden. Been single for years.”

“Maybe she’s tired of being single,” J.J. mused.

“Don’t hold your breath. But hey, she sure dresses up the place.”

“That was probably about all she did. Lee had a tin ear. He’d probably hired the woman for her looks.

Behind her came a younger woman, tall like Bonnie but with darker coloring. Also a looker. And next to her walked a woman who’d never gotten the memo that she was a senior citizen, also wearing tight jeans and heels high enough to trip Tina Turner. She sported spiky white hair and the tips of the spikes were colored green. The mother. His mother sure didn’t look like that. This woman probably had every old geezer in the place ready to take her out. With all three women being so striking maybe nobody cared what they sounded like.

“Had enough pool?” asked Lee.

“I think I’ll go over to the bar and get another drink,” J.J. said.

He snagged the last seat at the bar, one near the end next to a scruffy old dude in faded jeans and a peacoat, ordered another beer, and watched as the women tuned up. They couldn’t sound as good as they looked.

“The band’s good,” the old guy said. “They sing good, too,” he said and chortled over his crack.

“You know them?” J.J. asked.

“Of course. Everybody knows everybody here,” the old guy informed him.

“Looks like this is a popular place,” J.J. observed.

“Best burgers in town. Plus they have a senior menu.”

Lee came up behind J.J., hovering like a salesman in a used car lot. “Hey there, Pete. I see you’ve met my pal J.J. This is Pete,” Lee said to J.J. “He’s one of our regulars. He won our last darts tournament.”

“Beat out all the young pups,” Pete bragged. “You play darts?” he asked J.J.

“Don’t take the bait,” said Lee. “He’ll just sucker you into a friendly wager and take your shirt.”

“Aw, there you go, spoilin’ my fun,” Pete complained.

A full house and steady patrons. It would be kind of cool to own this pub. A lot of work and time consuming, but it wasn’t like he had much going on in his life anyway other than some day trading, hitting the gym and reading. In the last year he’d bought enough books to stock a small library. He needed something more to do. Lately, he felt like he was drifting with no purpose, no adventure on the horizon. What kind of adventures could he have here in Moonlight Harbor?

At nine on the dot the hot redhead stepped up to the mike and said, “Hey everyone, let’s get this party started.” She looked back at the granny on the drums, who began to bang her drumsticks together, counting off the beat, then the young girl hit the bass and the redhead began to bend those guitar strings all to hell. People rushed to the dance floor as she started to sing. “Get off your chair and get out here and shake your booty. You gotta start this party, so get out there and do your duty.”

J.J.’s heart went into overdrive. This place was a goldmine and Bonnie Brinks was the gold. What a voice! The woman was a super star. He wondered what she was doing buried in the sand of a small beach town.

“So whaddya think? The place is a good investment, right?”

“I’d say so,” said J.J. “Looks like the band is bringing in a lot of customers.”

“We had a lot of customers even before the band,” Lee said. “People want to eat at a casual place with lots of atmosphere when they’re at the beach.”

“You definitely got the atmosphere,” J.J. said. The goofy carved pirate statues were an obvious hit. He’d seen several people taking pictures with them. The pool tables had been in constant use since they’d walked in and the beer was flowing. Lee did have a going concern. The band and dance floor were a bonus. And what a bonus it was.

The women finally went on break, the older one stopping at a table to say hello to some people. The younger one went to plop down next to a super -sized young buck at a table near the band stand where a glass of pop was already waiting. A boyfriend, of course. The guitar queen headed for the bar, stopping for a quick word here and there, deflecting a fat lounge lizard, nodding and smiling at something another patron said.

She came up to the end of the bar next to J. J. and Lee. “Great job as always, Bonnie,” Lee said.

“Thanks,” she said. Then to the bartender, “Got my Diet Coke, Madison?”

“On its way,” the woman said and got busy getting her drink.

“You’ve got a great band,” J. J. said to Bonnie.

“Thanks, we try,” she said. Her smile was stop sign. Not Interested so don’t even try.

What did he look like? Some middle-aged, desperate horn toad? He was just being friendly. There was no need to give him the ice treatment. 

He decided to turn the charm up a notch. “I always wanted to meet a mermaid.”

“Now you have,” she told him, still with the stop sign smile. The bartender set down her glass and Bonnie thanked her, the ice melting from her smile. But it was back again for J.J. “Try the garlic fries here,” she said to him. “They’re great.” Then she left before he could get in another word.

Mermaids were not so easy to catch. 

“Don’t put her on the welcoming committee,” J.J. muttered.

“Told ya,” said Lee.

Slick and charming and no ring on his finger, which, considering his age which she figured to be somewhere around hers, probably had to mean he’d ditched a wife somewhere along the way, Bonnie decided as she walked to the band table. With those blue eyes and that red hair and matching, neatly trimmed beard, he looked like some kind of troubadour from the Elizabethan era. Add broad shoulders and a well sculpted chest and he was a regular pheromone factory. 

And that stupid line about catching a mermaid. Oh, yes, he was a charmer.

Who did that remind her of? Rance Jackson, of course. 

Let’s get to know him, urged her sex-starved hormones.

Not happening, she informed them. This was the kind of man who broke hearts – trouble in Levis. There would be no getting to know him.

Put a Mr. Yuck sticker on him and stay far away.

More...

About the Author

USA Today and Publishers Weekly best-selling author Sheila Roberts has written over fifty books under various names, ranging from romance to self-improvement. Over three million books have been sold to date. Her humor and heart have won her a legion of fans and her novels have been turned into movies for both the Lifetime and Hallmark channels. When she’s not out dancing with her husband or hanging out with her girlfriends, she can be found writing about those things near and dear to women’s hearts: family, friends and chocolate.

Website: http://www.sheilasplace.com

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/funwithsheila/

Tiktok: https://www.tiktok.com/@sheilarobertswriter

Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/sheilarobertswriter/

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If They Can't Kiss Right Blog Tour

 

Online dating is a headache, live vicariously through someone else’s experiences to make yourself feel better…

By Shannon Yingst

IF THEY CAN'T KISS RIGHT: SURVIVING ONLINE DATING, Creative Nonfiction, Tyburn Hill Media Co., 150 pp.

Online dating: the new way of life. It seems like the only logical way to meet people anymore. The rest of our lives are on the internet, so why not our love lives too? Because if you wait for your friends to set you up, you’ll only be disappointed with their choice of Roger from accounting, the epitome of mouth breathing, booger eating morons.

Fortunately, there are no Rogers from accounting in this tale. There are, however, many other bad choices. But along the way, I learned what I want, and what I don’t want in a relationship. I learned good qualities to seek and bad qualities to leave behind. I also learned a lot about myself in the process, too. The biggest gain I got from my foray into online dating, though? Writing this book and passing along some of the life lessons I discovered through a painful trial-and-error process.

If you think your dating life is bad, take a gander at mine. Relive the awkward moments, soak in the unnecessary drama, and don’t forget to learn a thing or two. Men and women alike will be able to read this and take-home solid dating advice for the future.

Laugh. Learn. Love. Question why some humans are so insane. Maybe even see yourself in some of the pages. But above all, take to heart all the things I figured out along the way. It’ll save you the heartache and trouble. Trust me.

Chapter 1: Oceans Away

I spent three years of my life in a negative relationship with a man that lived over three thousand miles away, in the UK. Miles and miles of ocean and land separated us, but I thought he was the only man that would ever love me.

            Always the fat girl in class, my life revolved more around making others laugh rather than pursuing crushes. That is not to say I didn't try chasing them anyway. I knew the outcome, though: the boys always liked the other girls, the skinny girls. Me? I was the ‘fun friend’. My yearbooks are filled with homages to my sense of humor and even sometimes to my friendly nature. Other girls were told to call the boys over the summer, reminded of their beauty, and endlessly complimented. My sense of humor was about all anyone ever noticed about me.

            "Am I ugly?" I would ask close friends. No matter what age, I always got the same answer in some form or another.

            "Don't be ridiculous. You're really funny and that counts for a lot." They would smile wide with kind eyes, avoiding mine. My question never directly answered. I began to think this was all for me – humor. My only redeeming quality. I would never be ‘pretty’ in a conventional sense.

            Now this isn't to say that beauty and boys are everything in life. I can guarantee you that they will never be everything in your life. They aren’t in mine. They are a side mission, not a main quest. However, I wanted nothing more than to find a man to join my story, to build along with me. I think we all want someone with whom to share our journey.

Right now, you’re reading this book for one of three reasons. Reason A: the humor in which each story unfolds - a good laugh is great for your skin* (*not medically proven.) Reason B: you want to avoid some of the same speed bumps I hit and save your sanity. Reason C: you want to see if our stories match and make sure everything is going as normal as possible. Relatively speaking. I don’t really mind whichever reason it is, but I do hope you gain something from my tale, and my sage wisdom. That being said, let me take you back to where this all started.

Desperate to fill that superficial abyss, I landed with the man from England.  

            We agreed that we would never see other people. We agreed it was a real relationship, despite only seeing each other twice a year, during my Christmas break from college and in the summer after school ended. He could easily get time off work, and spent most, if not all of it, with me. Looking back now, I'm not sure if it was selfish of me to take all his vacation time. Of course, he never let me forget how much it cost his wallet. Never mind that I worked all summer long and was barely able to afford my trip to him come December.

            Yet, no matter what, no matter how much each of us spent, it was never enough. The heartbreak we had to suffer each time the trip came to a close was immensely painful. It was like taking down decorations after a holiday: you're happy to get back to normal life, but some of the flair is missing and you feel it every day it's gone. Except with the relationship, things never went back to that sense of normalcy. It just got harder as the days went.

            The drives back to the airport were always quiet. Our last moments together for months and we spent them in silence with the occasional sniffle as we held back tears. The last time we were together (before we decided on a major change), I couldn't stop crying. I held onto him in the airport and repeated the same sentence over and over for five minutes straight.

            "I don't want to leave you," my voice whimpered between chest-deflating sobs. He would rub my back and rest his cheek on the top of my head cooing a shush. His tears hit my hair faster than my tears soaked his shirt. Maybe we both knew it was the end for us. There had to be something in us knowing we would never do this again. The painful goodbyes were over. We would never watch each other walk away into the long airport security lines again.

            "Hey, look at me. The next time you're on a plane here will be the last time you fly alone. Next time, I'll be with you. And every time after that. It will be us. Together." He kept his words hushed. Not because he didn't want anyone else to hear, but because he was doing his damn best to soothe my blubbering self. I nodded, wiping tears off my red-blotched cheeks. My hand gripped the handle of my suitcase and I felt the heaves within my chest slow. That was the last time I was truly in his arms. The last time the emotion had any real meaning. It was mere weeks later it ended.

            After that big change I mentioned.

            I had planned to leave behind the United States to be with him in England. My family, friends, my entire life would change in order to be with this man I had fought with more times than dreams of him filled my mind. Ironically, I often made up dreams to tell him because he would tell me about ones he had involving me. My mind wandered during the day, but come night, my subconscious never even bothered. I had more dreams about hockey players that I'd never met as opposed to the man I planned on spending the rest of my life loving. That probably should have hit me like a ton of bricks, but it didn't. In the end, it came down to one mistake. That one mistake showed me everything I overlooked. Everything I pushed aside because I thought he was it, my only one. 

            In our last seven weeks together, we tested everything we knew about being in a relationship. We never spent more than three weeks together at a time over our three year stint. Yet here we were, getting ready to be together for a large block of time. He was in America for two weeks to see me graduate from college, and then I flew back with him to spend five weeks in England. And if that went well, it was going to be forever.

My time staying with him was amazing at first. He would wake up and kiss me goodbye as he left for work. I would have dinner ready for when he got home. Minus the night his roommate told me the cooktop was on low when it was actually on high and it burnt the meatballs beyond recognition. Everything seemed perfect.

            But, as everyone knows, perfect can't last.

            We began fighting. Stupid, pointless, absurd fights. One night he was in his kitchen, running around trying to make a nice dinner for the two of us. He was sweating and overwhelmed. When I offered help, he took it, but criticized every single thing I did.

            "Can you knock it the fuck off?" My voice was straight and low, my hands steady on the knife and cutting board.

            "I just want the carrots cut thicker." His jaw was squared, eyebrows furrowed.

            "There isn't enough time to have thick-cut carrots cook. We need them thin because everything else is already done. I'm not an idiot, I can cut carrots." My eyes closed, but I still could feel the heat in the kitchen adding to my already boiling blood.

            "I don't want thin carrots."

            "Well I'm not waiting all day for thick carrots to cook."

            "Then get out of the kitchen." He took the carrots off the cutting board and waited for me to leave. I went upstairs to his room and sat on the bed staring out the window. An hour later, he came into the room slowly and placed a plate down in front of me on the bed before turning on the TV. I heard his fork hit the plate and then he started chewing with his mouth open. A habit I hadn't noticed before spending that kind of time together, but it grew more and more annoying each day. I think he picked it up from his roommate because I didn't remember this habit when we were first together.

Maybe I was blissfully unaware before, and now was slowly falling out of love. Maybe the fight just opened my eyes a little wider to all the flaws. Either way, there they were, on display. Crowned by that horrible smacking of open-mouth chewing. And don’t tell me the sound of a human chewing like a cow is sweet and endearing. Because it’s not. At least to me. After a few minutes, he stopped and angrily sighed. "Aren't you going to eat? I cooked a nice meal."

            "I'm not hungry, thanks."

            "Are you fucking kidding me?" The bed shook as he stood in a huff. He threw his fork onto the plate with a loud clink. I saw his hand reach over and snatch the plate from in front of me and, in a blur, threw it behind me into the trash can with such force that it broke into a ton of pieces. Food and broken plate scattered all around, and a few bit even landed in the trashcan. He stormed off with his plate and didn't come back to the room until I had fallen asleep, and was gone by the time I woke up the next morning.

            It was that night and the following night I was so upset that I forgot to take my birth control. That second night without birth control, we also had sex. I was still upset, but wanted to make him happy, so I pretended to be okay. Unfortunately, we had decided not to use condoms anymore. We were in a committed relationship, both clean…and both so stupid. He told me that condoms hurt him and made it harder for him to stay erect. I foolishly let him go without one. Yet when the pregnancy scare happened, all of the blame went to me. He only had one thing to say about the whole thing.

            "You have three choices: keep it, abort it, or give it away. I'm not comfortable giving it away and we can't be together if you keep it." So, only one choice, really. He offered no support, no kind words, nothing to help me feel less trapped. He blamed sleepless nights on me and piled all of his stress on this accident. It wasn't a mistake we both were in together, it was all on my shoulders. He started ignoring me. Days would pass without him even sending a smile. 

            When I found out I wasn't pregnant, it was the beginning of the end. Nothing ever felt the same after that. Eventually I told him I wasn't moving to the UK. I couldn't. Not if he was going to blame me for every mishap, isolate me, and make me feel like nothing more than a mistake. There was nowhere I could go, no friends or family to rely on if he were to tear me down like that again. After I told him all of this, all of the empty feelings and worry I had about moving there to be with him, about how I didn't think I could do it, he responded with, "Okay, it's over."

            I've had problems with self esteem my entire life from being overweight. It affected me in ways you could never imagine. As I write this sentence now, I feel the dread of a ‘not good enough’ mental breakdown creeping up. It always lurks in the back of my mind, waiting for the perfect time to leap and sink into the depths of my heart where no daylight can get, no matter how bright it shines. I end up drowning in the warm sunlight while my still beating heart continues to pump cold thoughts. Never good enough is not a good slogan for yourself.

You are always good enough. Always. I promise.

            It was only a week after getting back to the States when I wanted to see what was out there for me, for an overweight twenty-something. It hit me hard, the idea that guys could still like me despite the way I look. Despite my weight, despite my less-than-average face. Despite that, and despite my own person reservations, I am considered desirable. Maybe not as much as other women, but enough to get me laid. Apparently. 

            However, time for a 180 as I turn this sob story into a continuous ‘what the fuck’ moment.

            Let me show you the world of dating apps and what actually happens when people say ‘I totally want to date’ and then live on that lie for months while they awkwardly spend time and money on someone for an entirely too expensive, and mediocre, fuck.

            It's really not as glamorous as movies and TV make it out to be. It's mostly a lot of ‘what do I do now’ moments, followed by naked escapades, and confused drives home where you laugh out loud at yourself with a little bit of crying. Or maybe a lot of crying. It all depends, you know?

            Here is where I beg any family members to stop reading. Seriously. Please.

            To the rest of you: join me. Marvel in my disasters. Take notes. I have plenty of excuses for getting out of bad dates, examples of what not to do, and little tidbits of life advice I'm sure you'll want to take along with you in your pocket right next to your condom. Don't do everything I did. Or do, I'm not your mother. Maybe by the end of this, you'll feel like an amazing person with new found confidence gained from reading about how I found confidence. Or you gained it because you feel better than me after all my stupid mistakes. Either way, congrats!

            Disclaimer: The rest of these pages contain copious amounts of profanity, crass behavior, and graphic descriptions of sex. I’m not going to apologize if you get offended, but I did warn you.

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Shannon Yingst is a woman with dreams far beyond her reach. Not because she isn’t ambitious, but because she is short, and her dreams are on the high shelves. On her tip toes reaching for those dusty aspirations, she hopes to achieve the daunting task of entertaining the masses with the written word. Shannon likes to write while listening to Star Wars soundtracks, stand outside while it snows, and get confused playing board games. She would love to spend her days reading on the beach with a waiter bringing her frozen margaritas and snacks as the sun moves about the sky, but for now, she will continue to work at her desk in Jersey.

If They Can’t Kiss Right: Surviving Online Dating is her latest book.

You can visit her blog at https://waitstophelp.blogspot.com/ or connect with her on Twitter.

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