The Friend Zone

Helloooooo! Last time I posted, I hinted at writing about the dreaded Friend Zone and also the possibility of starting a YouTube Channel. I finally did it! For those of you who want the advice wrapped up into a neat 5-minute package, here is the video:

If you liked the video, can you please, please, please share (Twitter/Facebook) and subscribe on YouTube?!?! It would mean SOOO much to me!

 

 

 

And here’s the long version of Friend Zone advice…

Please my friend Fionna.

She’s pretty, outgoing, and has a great smile. You guys met a while back, and over time, you’ve fallen for her. You’re not really sure how to go about moving forward and out of the platonic relationship you’ve begun, so you opt to drop subtle hints. Whether or not you are aware of it, SHE KNOWS. SHE KNOWS YOU LIKE HER.

Fiona won’t clue you into the fact that she knows you are being tortured with your unrequited love for her. Oh no. She will relish in it and drag it out as long as possible. She’ll keep you hooked with minor, semi-flirtatious gestures, but always remind you that you are indeed, like, total BFF’s. Women are taught that they are to be desired and sought out, so who are they to brush aside admirers? You give her the attention, and she takes it, without question.

Oh F***. You’re in the Friend Zone… now what? GET OUT, immediately. Become less available. Stop immediately returning her calls/texts. She’ll start to worry she’s losing one of her adorers.

At this point, she’ll start worrying about losing you. It will force her to think about whether she wants to be with you in a romantic relationship or not. When she realizes that she can’t forever keep you in the Friend Zone with her tactics, she’ll have to make a decision. If she doesn’t understand what’s going on, or fails to give you any kind of clear signals as to what the future may hold for you, then you’re going to have to take a leap of faith and tell her how you feel.

It sucks, but it has to be done. Otherwise, you’re gonna end up like this guy:

And here’s a bit of harsh reality. If you’ve been in the Friend Zone for a long time, and you haven’t hooked up at all, you’re probably NEVER going to get out. It’s more than likely that she doesn’t have a strong enough physical attraction to you. If you have hooked up (drunken nights or whatever) at least a couple times, then you have hope!

My advice is to do whatever it takes to get out of the Friend Zone. Loving someone without the same in return is just heartbreaking. To willingly continue putting yourself in a situation like that is bordering on masochism.

Of course, this is just my opinion, and all situations/friendships are different.

I hope you guys liked this post and/or video!!! Remember to check back next Wednesday!

-Kris

 

New Posts Every Wednesday!

Heyyyyy!!!

As you can see from the look of the site, I put in some work updating things! By some, I mean a lot, because it takes me forever to figure shizz out. I’m no website developer, but I like to do it myself (that’s what she said). I rewrote the About section, fixed broken links, created a new header, and de-cluttered. I also added a “Funny” category after rereading a bunch of my ridiculous posts that had nowhere to go (like this one on Tiger Woods, WTF?)

In 2011, I didn’t write much (I got drunk a lot last year), but I’m ready to get back into it after receiving encouragement from my friends. I also really want to post more in the Men’s Corner section because I’m constantly asked for advice on women, and for the most part, I think I’m pretty helpful!

So I’m making a commitment to post every Wednesday (HUMP DAY!). I also am considering creating a YouTube channel/Vlogs, inspired by Jeff Madsen and Phil Galfond.

Please, let me know in the comments what you guys think about the site, my blog, possible vlog, or whatever! Check back Wednesday for a new post! I think I may address what is known as “The Friendzone.”

<3 you guys,

Kris

Downswing :)

So you might be wondering why the hell I would put a smiley face after “downswing” in the title… welp, I guess I just decided not to be upset about it. I’m currently going through the largest downswing I’ve ever had. If I’m being honest, it’s not all that bad. I am, by nature, a bankroll nit and a bit weak when it comes to handling large swings. When I start to go on a downswing, I’ll usually drop in stakes, put in a few confidence grinds, and get it together. Also, the live games that I play have been so soft that it’s almost impossible to stay down for long. This time though, I decided to be a little harder on myself, continue playing the same stakes and try to weather the storm. That plan isn’t working out so well.

My January and start to 2012 is abismal. Just before leaving to go to the PCA, I had one of my biggest winning sessions ever, and I felt like I was playing at the top of my game. I went to the Bahamas, didn’t play a hand of poker for two weeks, and came back to Vegas ready to grind. After a couple of losing sessions, I already started to feel less confident. This is a huge l leak that I know I have, and I recently discussed it with Jared Tendler (author of The Mental Game of Poker) in one of the Strategy with Kristy podcasts. When I start to feel less confident, I begin to doubt myself, have less trust in my instincts, and make mistakes which obviously exacerbates the problem. I recognize that directly correlating my confidence with my results is completely irrational, but it’s hard to immediately break a habit I’ve had for years.

I’ve always been that way. If a bunch of people are like, “You’re awesome. You’re pretty. You’re good at your job,” I feel on top of the world. I feel like I can do anything and no one can stop me. If I read some comments or forums and people say, “She’s so ugly. She sucks. She’s annoying,” I have a habit of wanting to fold in on myself. In the past couple of years, I’ve become much stronger and my self confidence doesn’t hinge so much on what other people say about me anymore. Now, it motivates me to improve.

But for some reason, I’m still working on gaining that strength in poker. I think it’s maybe because I’ve had a chip on my shoulder. I’ve always felt like the girl who always has to prove how good I am. I want the pros I talk to at my job to approve of me as a player. I want my friends to respect my opinion when we all discuss poker. I guess I just wanted recognition for the hours and hard work that I’ve put in. It’s taken me this downswing to realize that it doesn’t matter.

Whether it’s poker, your career, or whatever, you have to do things for you. Of course recognition will come when you are “owning” in whatever you’re doing, but it shouldn’t be a motivator.

The most helpful thing that Jared taught me was how to “Inject logic.” Whenever you are feeling sorry for yourself at the tables, tilted, or even over confident, talk to yourself with rational reminders. I know that I am a huge winner in the games I play. Variance is an essential and inevitable part of the game. I know I still have a lot to learn. I know I still have leaks. I know that hard work is ahead of me, but I’m ready.

I woke up this morning ready to conquer the day. I ate some oatmeal and headed to the gym. (side story: There was gorgeous blonde with tiggo bitties on the middle treadmill of three, so I had to get on the one next to her. She was walking at a good pace. I started jogging and so did she. I stopped to stretch while she kept running. She stopped a minute later and smirked at me. I smiled back, not really sure what was going on. After stretching I got back on and started running again. So did she. I pushed the button to go a little faster. So did she. WTF? I continued with the plan I had in my head of how long/fast I was going to run. After two miles, I went faster. So did she. I laughed. Ok broad, is this really happening? Let’s go. I clicked the up button a bunch of times and kept running. Finally, she let out an exasperated sigh and slammed the Stop button. I ran a few extra yards for good measure and stopped. What the hell just happened? All I know is, if there was some sort of competition going on… I won. So yeah, I’m competitive) Anyway, I’m going come out of this downswing in no time. I’m not sure if I’m going to play today because I’d been making a ton of mistakes as an affect of my time of during the Bahamas, waning confidence, and frustrating of my downswing. I may take today off, depending on how I feel, but I plan on getting back on the saddle soon.

I’d love to hear about how you guys came out of your downswings, and what helped you. Leave a comment or tell me on Facebook or Twitter.

Kris

P.S. It helps to know that even the most amazing and talented players go on downswings. Phil Galfond recently posted this:

P.P.S. When I’m feeling down, memes always make me laugh. Yeah, I know, I’m a nerd. Whatever. I dare you not to laugh!

EDIT: Perfect timing. Jared just came out with a new podcast of his where he addresses confidence. Great listen.

Feeling Nostalgic

Anyone can be thrown down memory lane by the sight of a once-upon-a-time best friend, a few measures of a special song, or a simple whiff of a familiar smell. This past weekend, I had all of that and more.

On Wednesday, I flew from Vegas to Grand Rapids, Michigan alone, without my husband, Andrew. Other than my clothes and my Macbook pro, I arrived without a significant indicator of my new life, or at least my life post-Midwest habitation. My dad picked me up and drove to my family’s house in Portage, about an hour away.

The house isn’t the one I grew up in, so it doesn’t really feel like “home” but within minutes, the scent of sesame oil popping in a pan full of thinly sliced beef and white onions filled my nose, and I was suddenly drowning in memories. My mom was making my favorite meal, and if I knew what the real, authentic name of the dish was called, I’d tell you. I’ve always just called it “yum-yum” (pretty sure it’s a Vietnamese).

I spent some time catching up with my family, and the next day my sisters and I decided to go to the mall. As they came down the stairs, Lindsey in her black tights and loose sweater, and Liv in her black jeans and t-shirt, I noticed that they both have a distinct and equally adorable style. If I could sum it up, I’d say Lindsey is preppy chic, and Liv is supermodel emo. Anyway, they are far from the days when I used to come home from college, and they’d run upstairs and put on anything they had that would resemble the outfit I was wearing. Once, we couldn’t leave the house until Olivia found her white skirt so that she could match the one I was wearing. Lindsey put one on too. It was the cutest damn thing ever.

Lindsey, the middle sister who’s 18, drove us to the mall (the only one in town). I still can’t believe she can drive. The stores were different, but the mall mostly looked the same. My friends and I used to have our parents drop us off (obviously at the back of the parking lot so no one would see us) to “hangout” for a few hours, but without any money to spend, we were mostly just looking for hot guys. I found one there once and his name was Logan Thomas. He went to a different middle school, but everyone knew of him. He had a great smile, he was a talented athlete, AND he played the piano!! Whooo hoo! (We ended up going to high school together, and he turned out to be one of the most genuine people I have ever met. He’s somewhere in New York now, making a living playing piano, likely still swooning the ladies.)

On Friday, I left Portage and drove down to Fort Wayne, Indiana. I’d made this drive so many times. Two hours later, I arrived at a Catholic Church with no shoes on yet… Should I wear my thigh-high boots or my black heels? Hmmm… well, the boots show way less skin. I’ll go with that. (Wrong answer: Apparently, I wore hooker boots into the church. Whoops)

I walked in and saw my girl, Nicole. We’ve been best friends since college (and I can never say this without thinking about Lynn – they must be tied now), and she was getting married. She looked great. Just the sight of her reminded me of so may stories – eating ice cream cake until we got sick, kicking soccer balls into each others vag’s (yeah you read that right – we called it “Giner-ball”), driving to a city 45 min away super hungover to drop off the keys to my car that had blown up there, only to find that I’d forgotten to bring them, and winning a pillow fight in Windsor, Canada (ahhh wish I could tell that story). Now, she has a baby, and she’s married. Oh my, how time flies.

The wedding rehearsal and ceremony went smoothly (aside from a few profane outbursts by me—sorry, I have a potty mouth, shit), and then it was time for the reception. Our soccer coach was there, as were a few girls from our team and a couple of the guys from the men’s team. At one point, we were all gathered at the bar, trying to convince the bartender to give us whiskey shots. She ended up giving us watered down whiskey sours, but hey, we didn’t complain. After all, it was with these people that I used to drink $10 gallon bottles of McCormicks vodka or $12 30-packs of Keystone light. Anything this bartender could hand me is miles better than that (ugh, I’m barfing in my mouth a little just thinking about it).

We raised our plastic cups and said cheers. A flicker of sadness could be found in all of our eyes. We used to do this on a regular basis five years ago. All of us used to be so close — studying together, dragging one another to class, and going on soccer road trips. Now, most of us rarely speak. We all have our own “grown up” lives with real jobs, careers, and husbands/wives. Gone are our carefree college days…

The rest of the night consisted of more shots, some karaoke, and woozy dancing. I got drunk, passed out at a friend’s house and slept in the same bed as another soccer girl. Ahhh just like old times.

The next morning, I had brunch with Nicole. We’re still close despite the distance, and most importantly, we play “Giner-ball” every chance we get. I miss her all the time.

I then drove back to Michigan. Hours before I left to go back home to Vegas, I had lunch with a couple of old friends, Maggie and Scott, who was my high school boyfriend. They’re good friends, and when he saw that I was in town on Facebook, he thought it’d be good to catch up. We talked about our lives, work, and gossiped about what people from high school are doing now.

When it came time to get on a plane, I was more than ready to get back to Vegas. During the flight though, I reflected on my weekend. I missed high school, I missed college, I missed soccer, and I missed… being young… er, than I am now…

After landing, I was so excited to see Andrew, I literally tripped over my feet in a rush to get outside. I anxiously stood at passenger pickup, and as soon as I saw that silver Prius pull up with my pup’s face out the window and my gorgeous husband in the driver seat, I knew I was really home. It hit me that even though I miss those earlier times, I would never actually go back to them if given a choice. My life right now just so perfect, and I’m trying to enjoy every minute of it. It’s so amazing, I often feel guilty. I know that in a few years, I’m going to look back at this time in my life and feel just as, if not more, nostalgic than I did this weekend.

When the kids go off to college (they effing better go), I’ll say to Andrew, “Baby, remember when we were newlyweds living on the Strip in Las Vegas? We traveled the world, partied in the most amazing places with incredible friends, and had the best dog anyone could ask for?” We’ll kiss, and he’ll say, “I remember, my love. I miss those times.”

If there’s any wisdom I’ve acquired with age, it’s that we’re always going to miss something, whether it’s people, places or certain times in our lives. All we can do is try and relish every moment we can because they instantly become memories… ones that you’ll inevitably miss.

And one more thing I wanted to share… When Andrew and I were packing to move to Veer Towers in City Center, we came across a bag full of mementos. I pulled out a piece of crumpled, white construction paper folded hotdog style. On the front, it said KRISTY BABY in bubble letters, colored in with crayon. We sat down together in our soon-to-be-ex closet, opened it, and ended up in tears.

Now before you read it, I’ll preface you with some background information. This was a Christmas card Andrew made for me in December 2006. In January 2007, we were scheduled to pack our lives into both of our cars and drive to Las Vegas. We had no money, and no solid job prospects.

And one more thing — I’m doing NaNoWriMo, and I’m counting this blog in my word count (I DO WhAT I WANT).

RIP Thuy Doan

“Were you scared?” She carefully asked, acutely aware of the high probability that I’d say yes.

“Yes, of course. It was the uncertainty of everything… but hey, try not to worry. Wait for your results.” I chose my words diligently. When someone confides in you because you’ve had cancer, and they’re asking because they are scared they might have it, every word matters.

Thuy called me shortly after she scheduled an appointment with a doctor to examine a lump in her leg. We’d met only a few weeks prior through mutual friend Phil Galfond, but like anyone who knew her can attest, she was warm and genuine — easy to befriend quickly.

“I’ll try, but I just don’t know what it could be,” she said, with hints of worry layered in her words. Her instincts were right. For the next two years, her health updates were such a rollercoaster, but her positive attitude remained consistent. From chemo, to the hair loss, to the amputation, to the hip replacement, to alternative medicine, she fought.

The aggressive cancer was relentless, selfishly destroying the body of a 25-year-old girl who had limitless potential and an enormous capacity to love, until her final health diagnosis was terminal. Terminal. The word hit like a wrecking ball into a cement wall.

“Are you scared?”

“Sometimes. There are just so many things I want to do.”

I couldn’t believe that such a short time after she’d asked me the same question, I’d be asking her. There’s no doubt that if she had more time in this physical world that she’d continue to touch and inspire people, which she still does even in her passing.

In one of her last blog posts, she wrote that she’d give up everything she owned for just five healthy years to accomplish some of things she wanted to and that nothing is more important than health. If there’s anything to come from her tragic death, it’s the lessons she shared with us about the food we consume, health care, and alternative treatment for cancer.

Life is fragile, and it’s short. Take care of your body and do what you can that’s within your control. Do what you love and spend time with the people who are important to you.

She was a prime example of strength, courage, and beauty.

Rest in peace, Thuy Doan.

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