A Positive Post for a Change… #TexasForever

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A lot of my time on this blog has been spent complaining about men. My inability in finding a fella I want to date, the fact that I’d rather spend time with my dog, how I don’t trust them, etc. The thing is, I know some very amazing men, and it’s about time I added a positive spin from my side of the world.

Last week my pal came up from Texas. He is the reason that I stayed in Austin when every fiber of my being wanted to give up on that town. Initially, finding my rhythm down there was tough. I was broken in more ways than one. A part of my heart was in love with him, but most of my heart was just so thankful to find a friend. I could lean on him. His friendship, and my ability to open up to him, is why I gave Austin a bit of myself. Without his friendship I wouldn’t have found my lifelong soul mates in that warm and delightful town.

Our friendship is a two way street. I know he trusts me. He tells me things and values my opinion. We write letters to each other and I find joy in psychoanalyzing him. He tells me about his lady troubles and I ask him why I can’t seem to find someone that takes my breath away. I have these brilliant men in my life who I carefully stack into the best friend category. People always raise their eyebrows and say, “well, you’re clearly in love with him.”

You’re right, I am 100% in love with him. But I don’t want to make him mine. Perhaps it’s out of fear of losing him. I have lost best friends by taking that plunge, and it hurts. A deep ache that I would like to avoid. Perhaps it’s because the friendship I have with him is so much more important to me. Or, it’s because I know that dating him would drive me up the fucking wall. He’s wonderfully imperfect, and as his friend I find all of it charming. If I were to date him? I’m fairly certain we’d kill each other. My anxious type A personality would drive him insane, and his ability to over analyze EVERYTHING would make me push him off of something tall.

Old co-workers have always hinted at how they thought we would have gotten together, little pushes towards how we should at least give it a try. But to me, this man is in the category of men that I trust unfailingly. Why oh why would I ever mess with that?

His place in my heart is to be the brilliant, trust worthy, two stepping, guitar playing hippie that I give copious amounts of shit to. I tell him my issues, and he tells me his. We drink beer and dance. We share life plans, big ideas, broken hearts, and the grand adventures we both want to explore.

And I trust him.

I trust him with my brain, my heart, my friendship… To me, that is enough.

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My “Love” Language (ha.)

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I KNOW. I KNOW. I AM TERRIBLE AT THIS.

Here’s your update… I don’t have one? I had such high hopes that this blog would push me to try harder, be more adventurous, be less cynical, etc. etc. As y’all know, L hit the jackpot and locked down a very handsome man that adores her. Kudos L, kudos. Me? Well, my heart is just not in it. I think this is due to a number of things.

Firstly, I have my on demand boyfriend. Say what you will, it’s the perfect situation in so many ways. We play house together when we are both feeling domestic, and I have someone to call on when I want to escape the city. We like each other’s faces enough to sustain this unique relationship for the past year, but the expectations are nonexistent. If he happened to fall head over heels in love, I would toast his heart, kiss him on the cheek, and wish him well. I know he feels the same. Until then, we will find comfort in each another, playing banjo in the backyard over Steve Martin songs, whiskey, and fresh coconut.

Secondly, I still don’t trust men. I realize that this is something I have to address and work on. I know that I’m the only person in control of this. I am aware, don’t worry. I also know that this isn’t something that will happen overnight (or over two years). It will take patience and resolve. For now I work on finding friends who are good men. They remind me that they DO exist. I don’t date these men because I’d rather be their lifetime friends. I have lost too many beautiful hearts to lose the few good souls I have found.

Thirdly, I don’t know if I want a relationship. My life is my family, my friends, my dog, my work. I know that when I find a man I want to make a life with, I will make time for him. I have done it in the past, so I know I’m capable. The problem is, since my last boyfriend, I haven’t found a fella I want to call home. Sure, I have found/dated/slept with a number of wonderful people, but none of them have been my wake-up-slow partner in crime. I have felt that before, and I won’t settle down until I feel it again. Call it picky, call it ridiculous, call it whatever you want. Until I feel the rumblings of love in the pit of my stomach, I will write casual on their name tag and continue the search for my lobster.

For now, I make due with silly situations. I have my on demand boyfriend, I have my inappropriate texts with off limits fellas, I have my weird attachment to a boy that I can’t pin down. I have my heart scattered among a number of different scenarios, none of which are traditional or “healthy” or run of the mill. Maybe that’s just it. Maybe I exist to flit and be single and remind men that women can be casual too. Maybe my existence on this earth is to have brief bursts of no- strings-attached romance. Perhaps I am meant to fling myself into the world and collect men and one off relationships like stamps. As L and I continue to wander through our versions of love, our stories are going to shift. She will focus on what it means to fall for a good and honest man and I will move further from traditional.

Who knows, maybe that IS my language of love.

Baby Steps and Mini-Milestones

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I remember in high school celebrating monthly anniversaries was like a real THING. Couples would brag about each and every milestone, keeping a tally of each time they had flowers delivered during 2nd period. This isn’t high school and I’m 27 not 17 but still, I have a pretty big anniversary coming up in my adult life. Steve Martin and I are about to cross the 2 month mark and it’s embarrassing that I’m even keeping track of that. But there’s a neurotic reason for it, because of course there’s a neurotic reason for it. There’s a neurotic reason for everything in my life.

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I had this realization when starting this dating blog with C – I hadn’t had a relationship last past 6 weeks in a shockingly long amount of time. The last time I had something pass the 2 month mark was almost 7 years ago. SEVEN YEARS. We had a different president! I wasn’t legally allowed in bars! Bon Iver was everyone’s favorite sad indie dude!

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That relationship left me pretty scarred in a way I didn’t fully admit to myself until recently. While there have been men who I’ve said the nasty little “I love you” phrase to since The One Who Got Away left, those men never made it past the 6 week mark for a reason. When I started to feel strongly for Steve Martin, I did a little research. According to this incredibly reputable article I read (kidding, it’s probably trash), it takes roughly 7 weeks to fall in love with someone. What I knew subconsciously all along was proven after a simple google search: I was cutting and running before I got too far in over my head.

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I’ll let you in on a little secret: I’m a control freak. I know, I know – shocking. With each man I’ve dated over the last few years, the relationship dissolved because I didn’t ever want to risk being as hurt, wrecked, and generally unlike myself as I was circa 2008. I’m good at being alone, I’m not good at being a weeping pile of human garbage. Option A is much more desirable than Option B clearly. I’m not a pretty crier for starters although I am very much a fan of angsty breakup music.

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I’m not celebrating 2 months going strong with Steve Martin in some big stupid way, I’m a grown ass woman despite my love of teenage drama’s from ABC Family after all. But it’s nice to have tracked down a man who I love and who is a real partner through my all too numerous neurosis. He doesn’t seem to mind that I have no idea what to do when it comes to relationships or Batman video games. I hear that all this is worth the risk so we’ll see if you were all lying to me over the years or what.

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Asking Men Out… Or Not.

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I am terrified of rejection. Absolutely petrified. I also hate being new at things, so I just remain pleasantly mediocre, as mastering anything is difficult and my impatience trumps everything else. I’m a catch y’all, I promise.

How many of you babes out there have asked a fella out? Is that what modern women are doing these days? It seems like it’s in line with being a bad ass bitch. Going for the gold and asking out the man you’ve got your eye on. I envision it to be a lot like how they portray it in the movies. Strutting over and writing your number down for them, winking as you leave. Totally seems like something I should be able to do, except I never carry pens and look like I’m having a seizure when I try to wink.

Ask a man out on a date?! Nope… Won’t do it, can’t make me.

I have asked one boy out. He was this tragically handsome man at the farmers market in Austin. He sold over priced pate with beautiful labels, and I would go sample their vegetarian white bean dip so I could smile at him. He had terrible tattoos that were charming, and a beard that I would have touched if that wasn’t creepy. You know, he was my type. Down to the “could be homeless” look that makes me weak in the knees. Needless to say, I got up the courage to ask him to my company’s party and it was the WORST. I was visibly shaking, and I’m fairly certain I took four laps around all the stalls before getting the nerve to saunter up and ask him.

His response? He blushed and got shifty, turning his eyes away from me as he fumbled with some tubs of goose liver. Turns out he had a girlfriend (the tragically handsome ones always do) but he said he’d love to join me if he didn’t, and went on to tell me I had made his week. He said no and my world didn’t fall apart. In fact, we started up a casual friendship that involved hugs and following each other on instagram. I wasn’t scared away from the market, and I didn’t melt into a pile of sadness at his rejection. I have also now checked “ask a guy out” off my list, and I am once again scared shitless to do it again.

I think this feeling goes hand in hand with the fact that I don’t trust men. Not even a little bit. I don’t think their intentions are real or genuine and I think they are ALWAYS looking for greener grass. Yep… I’m the worst. And I know that this jaded and cynical behavior will result in being alone forever.  I could benefit from going to therapy — but couldn’t we all? Needless to say, my complete lack of confidence in men takes asking them out completely off the table.

So what do I do about this ridiculously good looking boy who sells me coffee at ANOTHER farmers market? (I KNOW, I KNOW… I’M A WALKING PNW CLICHE, GET OVER IT.) He’s the kind of handsome that makes me blush. And while I’m fairly certain he’s only 23, I’ve thrown my age rule out the window as of late, so I give zero fucks. My attempt to woo has been batting my eyelashes and talking to him for two minutes every weekend. I buy an unnecessary cup of coffee that pushes me to heart palpitation status, just so I can ask him how his week is going. Ugh. It’s the worst. I am a grown ass woman, and I’m acting like a god damn 15 year old.

I have lamented to L about my fear of asking dudes out, as she treats it like it’s no big thing. Oozing confidence and sass, she goes for it, and is willing and able to ask for a number, a whiskey and a kiss. It’s no surprise that she’s schooling me at dating, as she’s MUCH MUCH more trusting, has the ability to give people the benefit of the doubt, and is generally better at being an adult human being. In her opinion, I should just do it. I should throw caution to the wind and ask him to go hiking or biking or rock climbing, all things he probably does because he’s a walking DREAM BOAT. Instead, I will bide my time and ever so slowly insert myself into his life. I mean, we finally know each other’s names after 6 months, so we are making serious progress.

Shut it L, I can feel your judgment from here. Baby steps y’all, baby steps.

I’m Breaking Up with Online Dating

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The number of times I have tried to make online dating work is getting out of control. I have been single, on and off, for four years and in that period of time I have dabbled in the online world countless times.

At first, my bestie and I created profiles and acted real sheepish about it. This was back when the idea of meeting your significant other on the internet was perceived as pathetic, and we 100% agreed. We made our profiles on OKC like it was some dirty secret, and gave every fella a nickname: tug boat, the lawyer, TJs, etc. I can honestly say I only remember a handful of the guys, but I’m sure that they were/are all delightful. Or maybe they are the worst? Either way, they’re a blur of beers and street light illuminated kisses, and then every last one of them fizzled.

What can I say? Give me fireworks, or I’m out.

So, when my best friend found the love of her life at the only country bar in Seattle (lucky bitch), I was left to wade through the online dating scene like I knew what I was doing. I took a long break when I lived in Texas, as I was too busy mending a broken heart while simultaneously convincing myself I wasn’t in love with my co-worker. I kind of was, and I’m sure he knew it (heyyy buddy! Still have a place in my heart for you, always!)

L can attest to the fact that one of the only reasons I’m still on dating sites is for this damn blog. And while my lofty goal was a date a week, I haven’t been on a first date since the New Year. Oh sure, I get messages and matches and all that good stuff, but I cancel every. single. time. My heart just isn’t in it. I’m sure I’ve whined about this in the past, but I will always be wary of online dating, and here is why.

  • You’re not special: At all. It’s terrible to know that while they are dating you, they’re also seeing what else is out there. For someone who already has SO MUCH distrust in men and their intentions, you can imagine the self-doubt that rears its head when you discover they’re signing in on the daily after spending most nights in your bed. I’m all for keeping your options open, but how the hell am I supposed to fall for anyone if I know you’re constantly looking for something “better”? Or whatever the fuck it is they’re doing. Pot calling the kettle black, I know. I’m just as bad. WHAT HAS THE INTERNET DONE TO ROMANCE?!

  • See above: Romance is out the window with this online dating shit. Except for this couple, most meet-cutes and grandkid worthy stories don’t start with, “well kids, I met your grandpa on the INTERNET!” Call me old fashioned, but I love hearing the stories that start with, “I saw this man in the grocery store that I knew I wanted to kiss, so I asked him for his number over canned beans.” And no, that doesn’t just happen in movies, that is straight from the mouth of my grandma, so suck it.
  • Forced chemistry: It makes me want to jump out a window. Oh sure, a fella can have a beard and tout all the characteristics I think are swoon worthy, and then it just falls flat. Nothing against him (usually), it’s just not possible to force chemistry. None of the men I’ve actually fallen for in the last 4 years come close to what I would categorize as “my type”. I think it’s the universe’s way of telling me to stop expecting a bearded, flannel-wearing vegetarian woodworker to drop from the sky. I get it, I need to stop going after walking PNW stereotypes. I GET IT.

  • Liars: If you’re 5’7”, don’t say you’re 5’10”… I WILL FIND OUT. Not that your height is a TOTAL deal breaker, but come on. You can only keep that façade up for so long. Literally. I will know when you stand up… So stop it. I am sure online profiles are filled with all other kinds of exaggerations and lies, but the blatant fibbing around height is the prime example of why I hate it. WHEN YOU START DATING SOME ONE, THE TRUTH WILL ALWAYS COME OUT. Just stop lying. You’re not fooling anyone.

So, I’m breaking up with online dating.

Which means I will have to rely on meeting people in REAL life, while continuing my perma-crushes with long distance cuties. And MAYBE (just maybe), I will get up the courage to ask handsome men out (looking at you, super young coffee boyfriend(s)). And if there are people out there who feel like playing matchmaker, a blind date that DOESN’T involve the internet could be a thing? Maybe? (Do people do that anymore?)

Tinder, OKC, Hinge, etc. you’ve been weird and generally underwhelming. One bad date after another, you’ve brought me some hilarious stories, and a confirmation that dating IS actual hell. The silver lining? You’ve been a great excuse to drink beer on a Tuesday, make some questionable and fun choices with strangers, and you have provided me with an endless source of gossip for my lame-o friends (I kid, I kid) who are married or whatever.

What I’m trying to say is… This dating blog is about to get REAL boring, as my dating well is going to run very dry. L… the stakes have been raised, it’s up to you to be entertaining. ONWARD AND UPWARD!

Where’s the Love?!

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I have been single now for two years (I think…?) My last break up left me alone on my birthday, packing up our little house as I repeated “you are strong” over and over and over again.

This year I celebrated my birthday with champagne and a cigar on a beach in Costa Rica with amazing co-workers. Let’s just say my life is headed in the right direction.

Let’s also say that while my life is pretty damn fantastic, I’m kind of getting sick of not genuinely moving beyond the crush phase. I don’t think it’s a surprise to any one that if a fella is charming enough, I will put him into the crush category. What’s the harm in having at least 15 crushes at one time? Why settle on the BEST when I can spread my affection super thin and maybe tolerate some one for a date or a one night stand? (earmuffs mom)

I have been in love twice in my life. In 28 years, I have found myself getting all wobbly and heart sick over TWO fellas. That’s it. I have had countless kisses from cute strangers. My “number” is decent. But falling in love? That list is short and to the point. These were the kind of loves where I actually wanted to spend every second with them. Where I didn’t look for excuses to cancel our dates. Where I fell into comfortable togetherness right out of the door.

I shouldn’t complain. I’ve had two great loves in 28 years. That’s amazing! It was soul crushing and heart shattering when it fell apart, but at least I felt that overwhelming sense of love. I am grateful for every second of both of those relationships, and know that I’m a better person because of them. I also know that they fucking ruined me.

Let me explain.

These dudes, while completely different from each other, set the bar. And let me tell you, that bar is REAL high. I know what it feels like to be consumed with love. I know what it’s like to look at some one’s face and want to squeeze it, like a puppy or a baby. I know what it’s like to share a home, wake up slow and forget that you’re supposed to get out of bed. DO YOU KNOW HOW HARD IT IS TO FIND SOME ONE THAT YOU ACTUALLY WANT TO SPEND A LOT OF TIME WITH? Maybe it’s just me, but I am so god damn stubborn that I refuse to settle for anything less than the earth shattering love.

It’s happened to me twice, so maybe my cards have already all been played. Maybe I had my chance, and now the universe is saying, “welp, you fucked THAT up royally… soooooo, forever alone it is.” I also know that there’s that saying that once you stop looking for it, it happens. I guess writing a blog, trying out all the dating sites (while never actually going on a date) and gossiping with my babe L about ALL the crushes is pretty much the definition of “looking for it”.

Whatever the case, I want to move beyond crushes, dammit. I want to feel ALL those big and exciting feelings again. I want to get lost in all that romantic mumbo jumbo that I’m so skeptical of, because I know that the moment some one sweeps me off my feet, I’m a sucker for that shit as much as the next girl.

2015 is the year of Flawless, which means I gotta buckle down and be open, honest, strong and vulnerable. Yikes… It’s going to be quite the year.

A 2015 Crush Letter

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I am known to harbor a few crushes. Why hone in on one fella, when you can keep an unsafe distance from letting anyone REALLY know your heart… Am I right? True, it’s probably unhealthy for my romantic life, but having a wide range of crushes has kept my brain distracted from that weird lonely feeling that creeps in every now and again.

Take that and combine it with my word for 2015 — Flawless — and I feel like this year will be full of confessions and putting myself out on the line. Before I throw myself into anything I’m going to ask myself, “What would Bey do?”

So here’s my first Crush Letter of 2015, because we all know Beyonce would go after what she wants, when she wants to. As for the boy that this is about? I HAVE TO KEEP SOME SECRETS!

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To You:

I am heading to Costa Rica as we speak. The country is warm and friendly and full of tropical fruit. This plane is loud and annoying and NOT full of tropical fruit. Also, United Airlines doesn’t seem to care even a LITTLE bit about personal space. The man next to me is snoring and leaning dangerously close to me, and I’m preparing for that awkward moment when he wakes up on my shoulder. And now I’m rambling.

I got the courage to write this letter when we hit a patch of turbulence. I fly often, but I always have a doomsday outlook on life when I’m hurdling through the air in a metal tube, so it goes. I also happen to be reading Lena Dunham’s book, and I find her transparency inspiring. I promise I’m getting to a point.

I like you.

I find you wonderfully intriguing, insanely frustrating, and for some reason, I care about what you think. When I stumble on some weird Icelandic band whose music sounds like the Northern Lights, I want to share it with you. I imagine the way I feel about you is akin to the way girls in the 30s felt about their beaus. Full of giggles and quick eye glances, I want to exchange long letters and favorite novels back and forth. You make me feel old fashioned.

Part of the intrigue comes from having zero idea where you stand in all of these things. You may only think of me as a temporary friend. Filling conversation to pass the time. Or perhaps your steely nature and stoicism means that if I were to wink at you, you’d wink back. There’s something so intriguing about not knowing where a crush’s brain is at. It makes me feel like I’m in junior high school again, “Do you like me? Check yes or no.”

Perhaps that is what is so charming about all of this, the not knowing. The anticipation of when I’ll be honest and upfront and tell you that kissing your face on a regular basis wouldn’t be so shabby. And who knows, maybe those feelings aren’t reciprocated, or maybe I won’t ever get up the courage. Writing about it on the internet is a step in the right direction, I do believe.

Either way, know that a bit of turbulence made me realize I should tell you that I like you. And even though me landing safely kept me from ACTUALLY sending this to you, you were thought about. You are admired. And maybe one day you’ll find out this was about you and you will hold my hand.

XO,

Me

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I also hope that every boy reading this post thinks it’s about them. Because let’s be honest, who doesn’t love to be flattered and told that they are adored? I have crushes on all y’all, I’m sure of it.

The Trouble with a Dating Blog: Volume 1

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I say volume one because surely there will be other things addressed on this issue, but this is the first pickle I find myself in.

The question I always turn over is when/whether to tell a guy I’m seeing/writing about that BTW I’m writing about him. I am terrible at keeping secrets so I’ve defaulted to telling a few of the guys after a date or two, mostly just because I’m a nervous talker I guess and so it ends up blurted out. Also I’m just big on getting things out in the open and this project isn’t something I’m particularly shy about. It’s splashed pretty publicly around all of my social media, so if a guy did even the smallest amount of digging they could find it easily.

That being the case, it’s still weird. Once a guy does know about its existence, I’m left feeling a little strange writing about him because I’m not sure if it’s a violation of his privacy or if it’ll ensure that there are no further dates or hell maybe he’s just enough of a narcissist where being written about is his end goal.

Remember how I mentioned I tend to overthink things? That paragraph just gives a peek into what my brain spins over before/during/after writing a post.

I’ve had several conversations with people where they don’t think I should ever tell a guy I’m seeing about the blog. That’s great until of course one of our mutual friends tells the dude about it before I get the chance to and/or they add me on Facebook and therefore are privy to all the neurotic thoughts that have been poured onto these pages. And that space between a rock and a hard place is exactly where I’m at right now.

I’ve been sitting on a blog post for a day or two but I’m nervous to post it. It says nothing negative about this man because I could not think of one negative thing about him if you paid me a million dollars. Hell, he wore socks and sandals on our date and still I can’t think of a negative thing about him because dammit he managed to make socks and sandals sexy. But see that’s actually the issue. Workaholics white dudes The conundrum I’m totally inventing here and probably isn’t really even a conundrum is that I want a third date with this guy, and raving about him publicly after only two dates is a scary thing to do (even though that’s basically what I did in that last paragraph). Dating blogs are weird, and writing about my thoughts/feelings about other people is still something I’m learning how to navigate through.

*20 minutes later after re-reading this post, OH WELL HERE IS THE POST I’VE BEEN NERVOUS ABOUT*

Holiday Dating is Annoying

Dating during the holidays is absolutely the worst. And no, not because of all the holiday expectations or the threat of having to buy someone a gift or any of the scary emotional stuff, but really I mean like practically: dating during the holidays is really hard. Thanksgiving, holiday parties, out of town friends coming home, more holiday parties, family events, errands, blegh so much of your time this season really just isn’t yours. Dating was slow for me over the last month, but I did squeeze one in before the madness really picked up.

In late November/early December, I started talking to this really handsome bearded man via Tinder. As it turned out, one of my favorite friends is also a friend of his, so I got to find out the dirt pretty early. And by dirt, I mean that my friend told me he is the NICEST guy and that if the conversation stalled during our date I should just bring up Harry Potter and then she sent me an article to read about how to date a Hufflepuff. I was totally prepped and ready for our first date and while yes Harry Potter did come up, it wasn’t because the conversation stalled. And my friend was completely right, he is the NICEST guy.

We’re going to call him Neville despite that he’s a Gryffindor because Neville’s my favorite and there aren’t many prominent Hufflepuff characters in the books (who don’t die or anything). Plus he’s the hottest character anyway so here we are. Well, second hottest – I like Sirius’ brand of disheveled. Sidenote: I promise this post isn’t going to be completely about Harry Potter, sorry if I’m freaking you all out. nev Anyway so after the our first date in early, December holiday hell kicked in and MAN was it impossible to get anything scheduled. That being said though, I was so impressed by Neville during that time. I feel like when things get busy, most people kinda tap out and fade away. Not him though, he continued to text casually which let me know he hadn’t forgotten about me. As someone who was very, very recently ghosted I can’t even begin to tell you how appreciated that was. It just made me feel like hey, he’s still there and life is busy this time of year but I shouldn’t write him off.

New Years Day rolled around and we fought through hangovers to have our second date – almost a full month after our first. One thing I like about Neville is that he’s just so delightfully adorable. Like when we got in his car, he was listening to Harry Potter on tape. And that he was a walking PNW stereotype, wearing flannel and wool socks and Birkenstocks. SOCKS AND SANDALS ON A SECOND DATE my eyes couldn’t believe it. And then after he dropped me off, he sent me easily one of the best post-date texts I’ve ever received. Handsome, kind, and a smidge nerdy? Yes please.

The first few dates with all the flirtation are so fun. Neville is an interesting guy and I’m looking forward to knowing him more. That’s something I want from this year of dating, more conversations and knowing people better.

Now comes the truly awkward aspect of this all: here I am writing about this guy on our dating blog and guess what? We’re friends on Facebook and therefore he knows about this blog’s existence. So hi Neville – let’s see if after reading this you still wanna have that next date you’d mentioned interest in…

Boo Ghosts!

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As someone who’s been single for basically a decade, I’ve experienced the gambit when it comes to weird situations that arise and a multitude of deal breakers and have done just about everything wrong that can be done wrong. But one thing that’s been especially frustrating to me is the concept of “ghosting.”

Gather round all ye people who haven’t been single for longer than a month! Ghosting is when you meet someone and everything’s going real well, and then they just stop responding or get aloof. It’s uncomfortable for the person getting ghosted because hi it’s terrible. I’ve been ghosted a few times now and really it’s served me well since it made me realize the importance of communication. If something’s not working out, just say it. It’s uncomfortable, but hey it’s not hurtful. You know what is hurtful? Being vulnerable and being ignored. Being hurtful intentionally is the worst and if you ghost people you should tell me so we can stop being friends. I mean it, if you ghost someone consider this our friendship breakup letter.

 

I was having drinks with a male friend a little while ago, we’ll call him Bruce Willis, and I was explaining recent situations I’ve put myself into – notably about the noggin-scratcher confusion that’s happened with the Joker. Things were going well! There was potential! And things have been helter skelter terrible ever since our 5th date. I lamented about how he just disappeared and how terrible of a note we left things on, and Bruce Willis made an excellent point: life happens and I might never know what was going on that led him to that behavior.

The thing with ghosting that drives me bananas is that it’s just so sudden and seemingly without reason. However, it only seems that way since I’m on the receiving end – the person ghosting always has their reasons. Bruce Willis pointing this out made it even easier to stop wondering about the Joker, because oh well! Really, oh well. And then out of the blue he texted me. Men have a god damn radar, I swear. Small talk lasted about 5 minutes before this happened and I immediately took a screenshot and sent it to 7 of my closest friends because WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK.

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You guys. YOU GUYS. I could not make this shit up if I tried. Also, my reaction is proof that I am Chandler Bing and cannot react to any situation appropriately.

Friends Sarcastic

We continued to talk for a very long while and he answered all my questions very openly and honestly. We ended up sitting in my kitchen eating a microwave burrito and talking about Chinese food casserole, before watching “You’ve Got Mail” because Nora Ephron makes everything better and less ridiculous.

Now, you’re probably thinking: “Great L, he owned up to what’s going on! And you’re both aware of his situation! And you made him promise to not disappear again! And hey he left his hoodie at your apartment so that means you HAVE to see him again!” Well kids, here’s the thing: I am not an optimist, I’m a realist. I don’t expect good things to happen, I expect realistic rational things to happen.

This post doesn’t have a conclusion. It’s more of a “State of the Union” address. Right now things could go either way. We could start dating and being honest with one another, or he could Houdini again because life is chunky and complicated and he’s trying to figure out how to be a father. At the end of the day though no matter what direction this goes towards, I have an answer. I have a reason. He’s not a ghost, he’s a guy with life happening. But maybe next time he’ll be more honest, and maybe if you’re a ghost you’ll do better next time too. DO BETTER NEXT TIME EVERYONE, do me a favor and make that your dating/life goal in 2015.

Repeat Romance? Don’t Mind if I Do.

C post

Sometimes dating brings you déjà vu moments. Like when a ghost of dating’s past shows up in your life at an opportune time, and you throw ALL caution/skepticism to the wind because… why the hell not?

A few years ago I met a boy when my heart and life was in shambles. We met at a screening of the Hunger Games, and what I remember was a) his GLORIOUS beard and b) the snack he brought was a banana. WHO BRINGS FRUIT TO A MOVIE?!

I was intrigued.

Movie flirtation led to eye flutters led to kissing led to… well, you know the rest. (BIRDS AND BEES AND STUFF.) Our little romance was brief and delightful, ending with the realization that neither of us was in a place for anything serious. Just a little post-heartbreak blip that rebound dreams are made of. Because it was a mutual “break up” (let’s be real, it wasn’t serious enough for such words.) We stayed in touch on and off. I like to keep the handsome bearded ones around, if only to stare at their faces… I’m the worst?

I think I have always wanted to have a friend with benes, but it’s never worked out. Either the people I think are just friends want to love me forever, or I read the signals all wrong– I make eyes at them, and things get awkward REAL quick. Inappropriate drunk twitter messages to cute boys I barely know? DON’T MIND IF I DO!

Let’s be real, having a “special friend” sounds kind of perfect. As I’ve lamented in many a post, I just don’t have time to be someone’s person. I know, I know “you make time for the right person.” I hear that, I think I get that, but I also don’t want to make a relationship my priority. Sorry, not sorry?

It really is the perfect time for my déjà vu moment with the most handsome man. Last night I drank ALL the whiskey, ALL the beer and made ALL the best choices. He rolled in looking delightfully rugged (I realize I’ve mentioned his handsomeness at least 3 times already, but THAT BEARD THOUGH.) and I let the eye fluttering begin immediately. Needless to say, while my hangover and 4 hours of sleep is making me feel like a puddle of terrible…

I had some fun.

The best thing about him being a déjà vu moment is I give zero fucks about trying to impress him. He knows me. We’ve been there, done that. There’s no need to redo all of that nonsense. As someone who HATES first dates, it’s nice to skip all those formalities. I gave him shit about his terrible Tinder pictures, and we ended up talking until 5 am about all the things. Comfortable right out the gate? My kind of jam.

Bottom line, a ghost from my past (that I fancy) who wants to spend some wonderful, casual time together? Sign me up. Repeat love-ahs can sometimes be the BEST idea.