Category Archives: Relationships

Divorce For Grown-Ups

Divorce for Grown-Ups: 5 Tips on Achieving Your Best New Normal

None of us is immune to divorce and I’m here to prove it.  Though I was trained and practiced as a marriage and family therapist, I have had my fair share of moments where it didn’t matter.  It didn’t save me from the ick.  And I’m grateful, because those experiences have taught me the most.

My ex-husband and I met in a doctoral program in Social Work. We waited to marry (we were 30).  We planned long enough to have a child that I was labeled a geriatric mother (I was 35).   And yet today, I am still the divorced mother of a twelve year old child.  What-are-ya-gonna-do?

Alas, there are no guarantees in life. And although divorce is difficult and challenges will always remain, I personally discovered you can make your journey to the new normal easier on you and your kids, with no Ph.D. required:

 

  • Respect Survival Mode. A friend introduced the idea of “Survival Mode” to me during my separation when I was (yet, again) revisiting the facts, feelings and current state of our marital dissolution…I was deep in my feelings and in my head. She stopped me and said, “You know, you don’t have to do this to yourself.  You’re in Survival Mode.  Let’s save the therapeutic analysis for when you are not trying to just put one foot in front of the other and be a good mom.”  Wait? What? I don’t have to do this to myself?

When someone is trying to survive in the desert, they don’t spend a lot of energy and brainpower on how they ended up there and how unfair it is.  Instead, they focus on getting out – on surviving.  It was a very freeing for an over-analytical person like me to give myself the gift of giving myself a freaking break—and just get through now, this moment, today. There will be time for the post-mortem—later.  And I did it, when I had the bandwidth to do it.

 

  • Take off your spouse hat. Stop viewing the world (including your ex’s actions) through the perspective of being that person’s spouse. You’re not anymore, so stop. When your ex does anything – the more view that action as their spouse, the more likely it will do a number on you.

The only hat you are allowed to wear is your parent hat. Period.  You will be amazed by how much you can take off your plate once you make this one adjustment to your perspective.  It is not your job to make your ex a better person, or at least not a jerk, in your eyes.  You’re done.  Not your problem.  Off the hook.  You only ask: How does this directly impact my kid and their relationship? And don’t try to warp the issue into being about your kid, when it’s really just about the spouse hat you’re still sporting. Hat off.  And see how much better you breathe.

And bonus: the moment you stop acting like something bothers you is the moment it may stop happening, so stop taking the bait. A little secret I discovered…

 

  • Don’t wait for the karma train. You feel wronged.  Treated badly. Undeservedly so. Yep. That sucks.  Not fair.  Stop screaming at the sky and demanding the karma train to hurry up and get’em.  Because each day that you focus on thinking your ex is “getting away with it” or has “won” is another day you have wasted not getting your best life.  Focus on you, your life. Things have a way of working out, but you are not in charge of the timeline.  So deal.  Go back to figuring out your new normal and living well.

 

  • Social media lives forever. Don’t Vaguebook about your ex. Don’t outright hash it out publicly on social media.  Your kids and lawyer will thank you.  Stop.  It’s a bad look and your friends are cringing for you.

 

  • You are a teaching tool. Remember, your kids are watching and learning important life lessons from you at this moment about how to be resilient, face disappointment (and reality), and conquer challenge—all needed life skills. It’s ok to show vulnerability though—they should also know perfection isn’t a realistic goal. Just be human with superhuman tendencies.

~Dr.L~

 

Dr. L is divorced mom with a global consultancy based out of North Carolina. 

Addiction Has Changed Me

I’m not an addict but addiction has changed me.

I worked hard, as my parents did, and earned my way to my independence as a young adult. By the time I was 26, I purchased my own home, had a new car in the driveway, my bills were paid. I was gainfully employed and was well respected in my career. I did not live a life of luxury but I did not want for anything either. I had accomplished some goals in my life sooner than others and I was confident in my abilities. I was happy.

I grew up in a structured family environment, full of love and support. I was a successful adult, still, I found that I was ill prepared for some of what life had in store for me, most of which revolved around my failed relationships; more specifically, conflicts within those relationships. There was never any conflict in my childhood home – NONE. I never saw my parents fight. I only saw respect and honor and dignity.

After I married and began my own family, I would soon find out, however, that I had absolutely no idea how to deal with conflict. Furthermore, I had not the first notion about addiction and its cunning ability to destroy whatever it touched.

Addiction stole my independence in the physical form of my home, my car, my job, my financial freedom, and so much more. And it momentarily buried the strong, driven woman my parents did such a fine job creating. Addiction affected my life by kicking the door in like a thief in the night, pillaging everything sacred inside me, cheating me out of my peace of mind and my ability to trust.

One of my favorite quotes is from Maya Angelou; “I may be changed by what happens to me, but I refuse to be reduced by it.” I tell myself that everyday. Where my self-esteem had dropped drastically in my marriage, I have been able to rebuild that self-image since my separation. Though I may seem hard to some now, those that know me well, and the home from which I came, can see beyond my protective layers. I am happy again and impervious to projections. That strength and purpose in character coupled with my unconditional love is what my daughter will benefit from most.

Addiction holds no bias. It knows no boundaries. It affects all races, classes, sexes, ages, sexual preferences, religious preferences, and so on. Addiction, at its best, will destroy families, jobs, incomes, and the physical and mental health of both the addict and that of their loved ones. At its worst, addiction is fatal. At its best, it destroys.

Addiction is a very real societal issue that requires understanding, consistency, and perseverance through the face of some individuals’ worst evils. It must be recognized and treated as such with as-necessary intervention and medical supervision.

But if you ask me how to treat addiction, you have to treat its root cause. No, I’m not an addict, but addiction has changed me.

Mental health matters.
Josie

Play Nice

I am currently sitting in my office processing the events of the morning. Trying to think of a careful way to share it with you all but not expose all the players. How do I play nice?

I have been divorced from my daughter’s father since 2012. Separated for several years prior to that. For the most part I have kept the why to myself. I have taken the high road. I haven’t shared much with anyone. When I’ve tried to those closest to me-at the time they  told me to just get over it.

I would love to. If only life worked that way.

But it doesn’t.

My reality was when I left, I left with G and not much else. I was told that since I made the choice that was how it was going to be. If I fought there could be consequences.

Throughout the years coparenting has been a rollercoaster. I am always wrong, I am a helicopter parent, everything is only about money.

Yet when my daughter asks why I am not with her Dad I say quietly- we were just very different,  your Dad is a good guy.

And he can be except when he isn’t.

So here I am trying to decide how to handle the latest untruth he told her about me.

I want her to have a good relationship with her Dad. It just sucks that it seems to be at everyone’s expense but his.

People tell you children hit an age where they figure it out. They realize the love and sacrifice you put forth. I’m hanging in there but MAN (!) there are days! I want to let fly and tell her how I still get anxious every day at 430. How I practically beg/chant “please stop”if I feel an argument brewing. I am still not strong enough to engage in any conversation that feels like an argument. I’ve been known to just leave. How it’s hard for me to trust. How I’m hypercritical of how I look. How I still worry all the time.

How sorry I am that we’re here. But I need her to know, more than anything what Happy looks like. What Love looks like. I need her to know she deserves the sun, the moon, and the stars. She deserves someone who loves her even when she is almost impossible to love.

As do we all.

Big loves Mommas

<3 Caprise

I Miss You

I miss her…

Over the last few months I have been deliberate in who, what, why I follow and friend on social media. I have enough stress in my life I don’t need my mindless scrolling to inadvertently add to that. I’m what you might call a daydreamer and a night thinker.

That’s code for I’m an overthinking insomniac.

Regardless my feed is full of videos, destinations and restaurants.

So when a picture from one of my favorite restaurants popped up, it hit me hard.

The picture in question was a plate from a bar b que restaurant in Hot Springs, Arkansas. It’s where my grandparents lived and I visited them every summer. We always made a point to get McClards. It is a family run restaurant serving food that you can’t get in the Midwest.

One item in particular the tamale spread my Grandmother always got.

My Grandmother has been gone more than 12 years. But lately I have wanted, no I’ve needed to talk to her. To start with I wanted to tell her I miss opening my work email and finding inappropriate jokes. The woman had a wicked sense of humor. I miss our mini book club. I have a soft spot for murder mysteries because of her, but the last year she was alive we read The Divine Secrets of the Ya Ya Sisterhood and would address each other by our Ya Ya names in our emails.

I want to tell her about G. That her spunk and quick wit shines through in her great granddaughter.

I want to tell her I am writing! Like really writing, not just in a journal.

I want to tell her about some of the people in my life.

That I wear pink now.

Growing up my Grandmother always bought me pink stuff, I did not like pink I liked purple. She eventually switched to purple, but sometimes it was our thing.

I want to tell her I still have the Levi’s jacket she bought me when my sweet parents got me a black, puffy number when I just wanted a basic denim jacket.

I still love shoes.

I appreciate a good lipgloss and lipstick.

I like wine. Even red.

I really like my job, I mean really like it. I host a radio show (!)

I keep her bottle of Chanel No. 5 on my dresser and dream of going to Paris and stealing from hotels.

I finally appreciate SOME country music.

But I will not Achy Breaky my Heart.

I sometimes eat cake for breakfast because as she’d say it’s no worse than a doughnut.

I can make fried chicken. I don’t do it  often or as well as you, but I definitely use your methods.

I just want to hear you say “oh me.” I miss your laugh.

There are pieces of me floating around that I feel like a solid talk on your porch swing could fix. I just want that.

As hard as it was to see that picture of the yumminess that is a tamale spread. It also reminded me of all that amazing things she gave me.

 

Strength

Humor

Spunk

The knowledge that size, sex and where you come from should never be a deterrent. My grandmother was a petite, southern woman from a very small town who traveled the world and ran a house, had a career and made sure I always knew I was loved.

 

I miss you.

Duchess Three Sheets to The Wind- Princess Running Mascara Misses you.

So much.

 

I realize Mommas this wasn’t my normal blog… but know I always got you.

If you will excuse me, I’m going to dig into some tamale spread.

<3 Caprise

Karma, Fated Love, Soulmates, and Twin Flames. Part One: What is Fated Love?

What is fated love?

There are a lot of people who want to the find that one person they are meant to be with.This is fated love, not everyone has one in this lifetime, but the people that do know deep down that there is someone just for them out there.  Most people get this confused with a soulmate, or even a twin flame. The soulmate and twin flame journeys are very different experiences, I will get into those topics later.

Fated love is something quite special, it is someone you are meant for romantically in your souls current life cycle. Each of our souls life cycles are different, different loves, different lessons, and different soul purposes. When you meet this person, you will both know, and no matter what challenges you may face it seems like the universe just keeps pulling you two together. You will have unconditional love for one another, and will never be toxic for each other. This person with arrive in your life specifically to enrich it and grow with you. You may face lessons together but unlike a soul mate or a twin flame they with not be the ones to teach you this lesson or shock you into learning it.

Your fated love will start being drawn to you once you’ve learned your basic karma lessons and resolved patterns in yourself and behaviors. Along with your self growth and enlightenment from learning your karma, fated loves are like your prize for your hard work.

Fated loves are meant to be your life partner, they will share so many goals dream and aspirations with you it might seem scary, and if there’s anything you don’t share they will never belittle or make you feel small for having them. They will support you, and love you for everything you are.

Fated love is the stuff of dreams, And when its meant to find you it will.

Always be unapologetically true to yourself,

Ali

 

Ali will be bringing us a series to go with the title “Karma, Fated Love, Soulmates, and Twin Flames.”

No More Goodnight

“Ok G ready to be tucked in?”

“I’m good Mom”

“What?”

“I’m going to tuck myself in.”

“Oh ok, Do you need anything, A hug?”

“Nope, Mom I’m good.”

“Juice?”

“Got it.”

“Ok well I love you.”

“I love you too Mom.”

That is when my eleven year old daughter broke my heart.

Bedtime is a ritual. It’s a treasured ritual. It’s sometimes the only time of the day I get to talk to G about her day where she is unfiltered. It’s when we cuddle. We joke. We even have our own poem. It’s been our thing since she was two.

I treasure that quiet with her, don’t get me wrong,when I’m an exhausted mess I would be a liar if I told you before she could read I didn’t edit stories so we could both get to sleep faster.

But this is different.

She chose this.

As she is a lot of things lately.

Which I’m happy about… her finding her footing, being comfortable and independent. But for nine years good, bad or otherwise she has been my solar system.

So much so she has never met a single person I’ve dated. I can hear your collective intake of breath and tongue clucks. Read my blog series… it will make sense.

Maybe

That’s not why we’re here. Another time. Another time.

I want my girl to feel secure but does this mean she doesn’t need me?

We have started entering the stage of one syllable answers to questions, if I get answer. I embarrass her now. Before if I broke out in song in the car she would have sang along, now she yells for me to stop.

She also comments on things about me she didn’t before.

I’ll just say it- how I look. How I act.

So this is new for me,as before I was Mom. Gorgeous no matter what. Perfect no matter what. Allowed to tuck in no matter what.

Now she sees me.

I mean really sees me.

My stress, my hurt, my happy. My silly. She doesn’t always like what she sees and she tells me.

She asks me point blank questions about things she never did before.

Honest.

Brutal.

The reality of not tucking her in is more than just not tucking her in.

She’s growing up. While I am incredibly proud of who she is becoming. I selfishly still want her to need me. Is she still going to need me?

Will you still need me …When I’m 64? Beatles song… sorry…

I am sure she does and will. I am 47 and when I’m sick all I want is my Mom, but I think you get it.

Relationships between Mothers and daughters can be fragile things. I’m scared.

What if I screw this up?

And now you know my secret. While I hate I’m not tucking her in. It  does mean some extra quiet time for me. Our majestic golden doodle now sleeps with her. Less chaos at bedtime because she is handling it.

But it also means we are entering those years.

The ones we see on the Lifetime movies, talk shows, The Kardashian’s.

Ok, I don’t watch that… but ack!

I certainly don’t want to be a cool Mom.  I mean, raise your hand if you saw Mean Girls?

Whoa

But I want to be someone she can come to. That is my fear. Or at the least if not me someone else and know she can send them my way after.

I went to college with women who couldn’t talk to their Moms. I am friends with women who couldn’t talk to their Moms. I sometimes can’t talk to my Mom.

I don’t want perfect but I want a balance. Guys,I am so terrified you know who will goof it up. I know I keep saying that, but I think sometimes as a single Mom we wear our worry and sadly guilt like jewelry, heavy around our necks. We don’t mean to, but for me I know I made the right choice but it’s still a tough one and it still is hard on her.

Deep breath….

For now I am going to still ask if she needs anything about three times at bedtime.

Sneak in after she’s asleep and kiss her forehead.

Revel in the fact that even though my poor baby had the worst tummy bug ever the other night guess who she had tuck her in?

That’s right.. the same lady who sings Jump Around at embarrassing levels in the school pick up lane.

We got this Mama.

At least I think we do.

Big loves Mamas

 

~~Caprise

Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Teacher
Sometime DJ
T-shirt collector
Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date

The Fixer Of Broken Boys Part 14: Here’s Where The Story Begins

If you’ve been following along with my story, I seem to know how to pick them. Some would say I pick them, fix them, and send them on their way..

A fixer of broken boys.

Others would say I’m broken.

For the record I’m not a fan of that word. Broken.

Or victim.

Or unlucky.

I absolutely can not tolerate people who hold their past as excuses to be horrible.

“you don’t understand… this happened…”

Actually I do and then some.

Here’s the truth. Without all theses chapters I would not have the love of my life. She’s eleven. She’s perfect and while I am not… perfect, she makes me feel like I am about eighty percent of the time.

I considered wrapping this up neatly. Giving you the happy ending I teased in an earlier chapter. But that’s not the truth. Life is messy. Things have been hard. Dating as a single Mom is no joke. Dating as a single Mom who has been through some stuff,well… I recognize I can be a challenge. For a moment I want to acknowledge that some of this is hard to read, it’s hard to write…but it’s mine and you know what?

I’m here. I have walls. I hold my breath. I don’t always see what others do. But I’m here. My feet are planted firmly and I’m determined to show my daughter that you can be loved for who you are. That even when not so great stuff happens you can get through it. You can. Maybe the path there may not be very straight but it CAN be done.

Which leads me to my now…

I’m treading lightly here because it’s so incredibly precious to me. As I’m wrapping up my forties a switch has been turned on. I have finally realized it is ok to want hand holding, mushy, compromise, quiet days, ruckus nights,if someone loves you they won’t  judge what you want or who you are, but rather rebel yell for you.

They will go to Target when they’d rather be at a record store.

They will ask about your daughter.

They will ask you about your day.

Text you in the morning.

Send you a song

Let you send them a Dad joke

Hold your hand

Remind you they are there for you and keep doing so even when you try to push them away.

I’m crying as I type this because… let’s just say what’s mine is mine is mine and if I tell you it’s less mine… but it’s mine.

It’s messy and it may not work for you, but isn’t that life?

Life is messy! Who wants perfect? I will take messy and happy any day.

I’m finding out I don’t need to fix broken boys anymore…

The boys weren’t broken and neither was I. I just didn’t see who I was. I finally do.

I am a Mom. A friend A sister. An aunt. A daughter. A teacher. A shoe hoarder. A nerd. A pink haired, tattooed middle aged punk lady who still crushes on Henry Rollins. And that is more than ok… it’s kinda perfect.

~~Caprise

Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Teacher
Sometime DJ
T-shirt collector
Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date

The Fixer Of Broken Boys Part 13: He’s Back

In the midst of all this chaos I get a phone call that brought the guitar player back into my life.

All the way from California… our story wasn’t over.

Sometimes even though you know you shouldn’t you let people back in. You do. The guitar player was hard not to the close door on.

Have you ever had such crazy chemistry with someone that even the sound of their voice effects you?

I used to love getting his voicemail because I could hear his voice. His voice. His smile. His hugs. So much…too much. Not enough…

I had just moved my little daughter and I into a condo we couldn’t afford when I got an email:” it’s me I miss you. Tell me something only we would know so we know it’s each other.”

I did and then we were texting.

Then talking.

All the time, for hours.

I was torn. I was technically still married but husband refused to divorce me,this man lived halfway across the country … what was happening.

Along the way my husband drafted a contract – still no legal divorce. In it we were allowed to date even though we weren’t divorced. I would find out later it was because he had been dating a woman he met on his volleyball league well before I had moved out. Prior to that another woman was pursued but didn’t count because she wasn’t interested.

Yet he wouldn’t divorce me.

So when after almost 15 years and several states between us- the guitar player said he wanted to see me. I said yes.

I shook the whole time.

Men have an unfair advantage, sometimes with aging some get more handsome. Yup

We were together on and off for six years.

At first it felt like there was a real chance, but then all the things that stopped us the first time started bubbling to the surface. Except this time I had a child.

Who he never tried to meet.

I started volunteering at a radio station which took time away from him.

The TV show I hosted I did to meet men, or so he thought.

I was called names.

I never met his family.

I paid for everything.

Through the volunteering and job promotions I started getting myself back. I wanted to build a life with him, but every time it came up there was a reason to wait.

The tipping point… being in his bedroom while his nephew delivered a couch and him letting them joke about the women he could have on the couch.

I WAS IN THE BEDROOM (!)

The final straw was a weekend I was supposed to see him my daughter was sick so I couldn’t, he got mad and said I used her as an excuse and put her first.

I was furious.

I added up all the miles and money and hours and broke up with him.

It was a slow break.

I still hold guilt.

I glossed through a lot, but he moved cross country to be with me. He powered through a disease that makes it impossible for him to be in social situations and I was just going to leave him?

Yes

Because you can’t stay with someone out of guilt

You can’t stay to try and fix past sins

Someone shouldn’t use those things to make you.

Also, it wasn’t just about me anymore.

I was now the Mom of a daughter and I needed to show her what it looked like to have someone in your life who would go to Target with you even if they’d rather be at Home Depot.

~~Caprise

Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Teacher
Sometime DJ
T-shirt collector
Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date

The Fixer Of Broken Boys Part 12: I’m Not The Marrying Kind

I am not the marrying kind…

After the debacle of the one that should have never happened, I didn’t date for almost two years. On purpose. If I did date I broke up with the guy very quickly, walls were very high.

Out of respect for my daughter I’m going to go about this a bit differently…

I was introduced to my ex husband by a friend. He was the complete opposite of anyone I had ever dated and I thought that was a good idea.

Since I referred to him as ex I think you already know.

Here’s the thing you have a type for a reason. I believe that. I relish differences and believe strongly successful relationships are about caring and compromise.

But you have a type because it works. He was not my type. Not even close.

If you love someone you go to True Value even if you’d rather be at Target.

My ex believed the only person who should compromise was me.

A year after my daughter was born I just couldn’t anymore.

My leaving was not well received. I was accused of things that weren’t happening. My family was not nearby. It was incredibly hard and went against everything I believed in. It rained the day I moved. My Mom, me and G…

I was a wreck. I was lost. I will be honest it is nine years later and I am still at a loss when my daughter is not home.

It is is beyond true what they say when you hit bottom you find out who your people are. Fast.

Sadly they aren’t the ones you’d hope they would be.

Do me a solid please don’t ever tell anyone to get over it. When your world is falling apart and you are making $8.50/hr paying rent, child care, with a husband who won’t divorce you so you can’t get help and you’re trying to figure out how you can pay a lawyer … please don’t tell that person to get over it.

That’s helpful. Not at all.

Thanks

How about sit with me

How about let me cry

 

~~Caprise

Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Teacher
Sometime DJ
T-shirt collector
Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date

The Fixer of Broken Boys Part 11: The One That Should Have Never Been

The One That Should Have Never Been….

Full disclosure this is going to be hard for me to write. I started crying just thinking about writing this chapter.

I made another cup of coffee put on some John Mayer and am snuggled under some blankets…

I need to write this.  It’s important because good, bad or otherwise it shaped me.

If you’re in my life maybe after reading this you’ll understand why I can shamelessly share random facts about myself but giving anyone my heart is almost impossible.

“The woman with the highest walls have the deepest love.”

When I met him I was dating the sweetest man named Ben. He was a bit younger, rode a motorcycle and would pop up with unexpected presents… but I couldn’t get past the fact he was younger than me.

So incredibly stupid some of the rules you make for yourself when you’re dating.

I definitely should never write a dating advice book.

I was DJing at a bar and he was staying nearby for business. Instant chemistry. He was completely different than anyone I dated. Had a good job, close with his family, he had this way. Green eyes, dark hair, freckles and an accent to this day I can’t place. And I don’t want to.

I’m grateful I will never hear that voice again.

It did enough damage.

It was a whirlwind to say the least. I think we were living together after two weeks.

The minute he moved in red flags started flying. He always had a slick recovery. Fantastic used car salesmen. Most criminal psychopaths are.

I kept the secrets and concerns to myself, because I was the idiot friend who when they hear stories of acquaintances in horrible relationships yelled the loudest I would never put up with that.

It’s amazing what you’ll put up with when you’re in it and are led to believe it’s your fault.

I did try to tell a few people but it never came out. When I did share years later it felt like a blip that I should of kept to myself.

Pro tip if someone is suddenly jobless after they meet you… run.

If you never meet their family… better be a stunning reason as to why.

I am being a bit light hearted but it’s decades later and the shame I carry at letting someone like him in my life weighs me down.

He stole from me

He cheated on me

He used our apartment to run a business that is not legal in our state

There’s more…but I can’t. It’s done and I’m not crying so let’s keep going.

I know the neighbors knew but it wasn’t until the day I kicked him out that my next door neighbor came and sat with me until the cops showed up. He just kept apologizing while he held my hand.

I can’t give the One that Shouldn’t Have Been much more because he doesn’t deserve it. He did a ton of damage.

And to be blunt somethings are better left unsaid.

What I know is I got out. I made it.

I am not a victim, I’m not a survivor I’m just a lady who had enough.

The tipping point wasn’t all the horrible things he did to me but the threat he made one night after a terrible fight. He threatened to let my new kitten out, which he had done once and had resulted in her being temporarily blind.  I wouldn’t protect myself but… you get it.

Also,while I’ve had one cat since I’m a dog person…

But yes I’m incredibly guarded. I don’t trust very many people.

I’m a happy person with a heavy soul…sometimes it gets weird. *quote

Yup it does.

This relationship gifted me with a restraining order, a depleted record collection, horrible credit, and the promise to date “nice” guys.

I took a breather. I set some very strong boundaries. Then I met the nice guy but kinda like it seems to go… meh. Not really that nice…

~~Caprise

Single Mom of the amazing Dbl G
Teacher
Sometime DJ
T-shirt collector
Henry Rollins Middle Aged Punk Prom Date