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.

I’m a Real Life Trainwreck (In a Charming Way, I Promise)

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I promised I would respond to Trainwreck as a follow up to L’s real and raw post about how this movie hit close to home. Let’s start with my girl Amy. I love that she is an intelligent, hilarious, kick ass feminist who speaks her mind. If you have yet to read her speech about sex and self love, stop reading this and go do that. It’s much more eloquent than any of the dribble I’m throwing down at the moment.

So yeah, I loved the movie. It was delightfully raunchy and you knew from the opening credits exactly how it was going to end, just like any good romantic comedy. Of course she was going to get scared and lose him, only to do some grand gesture to win him back. Also, her dance moves were impressive. I spent a long time trying to find this song so I could dance around my room to it, pretending I also know how to shimmy and shake.

I don’t think any woman can go into a rom com these days and leave with high hopes… Or maybe it’s just my very pessimistic heart? Dating is the fucking pits, and the online sphere only makes it worse. Y’all, L and I have been writing this blog for MONTHS, and I’m in an even worse place than when we started. Maybe I’m more like Amy than I thought? Let’s outline THIS trainwreck so I can pretend that I have something to write about that is relevant to dating.

  • My on- demand boyfriend. That’s still a thing. I haven’t seen him for a month(ish) and I’m okay with it. I adore the shit out of him and he’s my go-to for random adventures, but I’m still in the same place. I’m not going to fall deeply in love with him and make him my lobster. If that were the case, it would have happened already.
  • All those boys that hold pieces of my heart? They still have little bits of me. Strings that they pull to remind me that they are still very much camped out in there. They remind me that for awhile I wore vulnerability a little bit better, and let some other hearts waltz with mine. All of that romantic nonsense that allows you to let your guard down and rely on someone for a large chunk of your happiness.
  • I think I now have a profile on any and all dating websites, and haven’t gone on a single date for approximately 9 months. I have made plenty of dates and I have cancelled on every single one of them. Yes, I am that girl. There is just so much about online dating that makes me tired. I will pull any excuse, knowing that I would rather find my next partner by accident. All those memorable ones from my past? They started out as eye flutters turned to friendships turned to long letters turned to love. I wooed them slowly. Dropped sass and sarcasm, thick as honey, until there was nothing left to say but yes. And they did. And when we fell into it we already knew the way each other laughed. They already knew how I like to make big plans (learn the banjo, bike across the country, quit everything and travel for a year) and that I get scared when actually faced with change. I like to ease into love. It takes time to break down these walls, and when you do… Boy oh boy, do I know how to love.

  • My distrust… It’s only grown. I was recently in a very interesting situation where a fella and I were flirting and I once again dabbled in that terrible and treacherous world of being the “other” woman. It was harmless, or I assumed it to be, until a very dear friend pointed something out to me. Choosing her words as carefully as she could, she reminded me that making these plans with a boy who was very much taken would only make my distrust grow. How easy it is to woo men away from those things they claim to love! Don’t worry, I stopped flirting with such a terrible idea. Perhaps that’s the first step in learning how to trust again? Or perhaps karma is reminding me that I have acted the part of the other woman, and perhaps my defeated and callused heart just won’t warm up again. But that is far too depressing to think about, and I think I still have some hope left.

Man oh man, that list definitely makes me sound like a trainwreck. However, this post isn’t asking the internet world for a pity party. Like I’ve mentioned in almost every single one of my posts, my life is full of very beautiful things. My time is well spent with family, friends, and making future plans… All of these things that create a colorful and beautiful life. For now, that’s enough.

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.

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!

Because Women Can Be “Bachelors” Too.

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Every year my family and I watch It’s a Wonderful Life. Every year I cry. Every year I remember why I have always had crushes on tall, goofy men. And every year I notice a new part of the movie that I had missed in the past. This year it was the moment when George Bailey asks Clarence what happened to Mary in the world where he hadn’t been born. Clarence looks at George with a look of sadness and exclaims, “You’re not going to like it. She’s an old maid. She never married.” The camera pans back to George’s face, looking distraught. The worst part about it? SHE BECAME A LIBRARIAN. I still love this movie more than anything, but COME ON.

It shouldn’t be a surprise to anyone reading this blog that I’m a stand-on-the-soapbox kind of feminist. So I bristle at the idea that men get the sexy title of “bachelor” while women (to this god damn day) are looked at with pity if we are alone. We are placed into the category of being ice queens or sad rom com characters, pining for the day when a boy will FINALLY love us.

Y’all, not every gal wants to be shacked up.

Case in point: there’s this man who fancies me. He is kind and generous and loves his family. He is the kind of man who would build you a fire, and then fall into comfortable silence with you over a good book. He’s open and honest about his feelings, and never seems to falter in his devotion to romance. Sounds pretty perfect, am I right?

But here is what I know about myself:

I am insanely, absurdly, ridiculously stubborn. If I want something, or set my mind on something, it’s relatively hard to stop me. This can be admirable and downright frustrating (or so I’m told.)

This stubbornness leads me to sometimes be selfish with my time. And when I say sometimes, I mean most of the time. And when I say most of the time, I mean always? In the past, I have flung myself into relationships with somewhat spineless men, and then I (not so subtly) continue my life plan, which they follow along with, no questions asked. As I get older, I realize that it’s ridiculous to move through my life as I want, and expect my partner to hop on board, or get the hell off the ride.

Sure, past loves were happy for a while, but they came to resent me, and my apathy towards compromise. It’s no surprise everything crumbled. I can imagine that when you are told you fall somewhere between 7 and 8 on the list of priorities, you’re ready to move on.

I know someday (maybe?) I will want to slow down and adjust, bend and compromise… but right now it is full steam ahead. And there are moments where this decision leaves me lonely. I’m guilty of binge watching Nora Ephron flicks as much as the next gal/guy, questioning my choices in life. I’ll find myself asking whether or not my happiness could be found in marriage and babies and future plans with a man, like so many of my best friends.

And then I think about all the things I still want to do.

I have the longest list of dreams and plans. I want to throw myself into work, because I think it’s okay to get lost in your job if you’re doing something you love. I want to bike across the country and then pretend to be John Muir, spending weeks lost in the woods. I want to take a year to travel around the world, volunteering with sloths and climbing to the highest point of Patagonia until my lungs burn. I want to touch soil on each continent, and write about every person I meet whose smile has something special to say. Oh my stars, I could go on and on. My brain is an endless scroll of ideas. Plans on how I can find new versions of myself, and stretch this life as thin and beautifully as the world will let me.

When it comes down to it, I don’t ever want to look back on the choices I’ve made and realize I didn’t push myself because of someone else. And I wouldn’t ever wish that for anyone I love. Perhaps that means that I really am meant to be alone, and perhaps (just maybe) I’m okay with that. Who knows, this whole theory might go STRAIGHT out the window the moment I meet the man meant for me. But until that man swoops me off my feet, I’m moving through this life like a whirlwind—and I don’t want to miss a damn second.

As for this handsome, wonderful and charming man who thinks I’m the gal for him? Let’s just say I am figuring out the best way to handle our hearts.

Repeat Romance? Don’t Mind if I Do.

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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.

I share my bed with a pile of clean laundry and some unpaid bills.

Guest Posts!

Guest Post: Jill

I sort of buried the lead there. I’m actually not that sure I’m using that phrase correctly. But I’m going to assume I’m right without doing any research and prepare to defend my position haughtily and without restraint because that’s the American way.

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I have not been in a relationship since I accidentally fell in love with a boy called Adam just over 10 years ago. You read that right, I was 17. Most people would say to that, “High school doesn’t count.” Those people have probably had numerous relationships since high school and it is their prerogative to reframe their memories however they see fit. They can also s my d because for me, it counts. Since then I’ve had a series of non-emotional sexual relationships, or non-sexual emotional relationships. This is one of those confusing “two halves don’t make a whole” scenarios. Like it’s math, but it doesn’t add up. Getting an A in Algebra 2 when I was in 9th grade led me to believe I understood basic addition. Thanks a lot, Mr. Gruen.

The other problem with Adam is that he was too great. I hate saying that because we’re still friends, he might read this, and he has never suffered from low self-esteem. But seriously, when you’re a teenager and you get to date the best looking, coolest, most talented guy in school – it kind of ruins you. Like I’m not even interested if we aren’t chatting over AIM making plans to go to the drive-in or something. But I digress.

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Recently, I endeavored to fucking go for it and be someone’s girlfriend. My reasoning was 3-fold: I liked him. I wanted a boyfriend. He wanted to lock it down. I was swept up in his eagerness to be exclusive, because that had literally never happened to me before. The short version of this tale is that it didn’t work out.

It began:

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And then it un-began:

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It is super possible that I’m not in the correct life place or head space to be in a successful relationship. A really honest version of my dating profile might say “Fat-ish, but good shaped. Extremely vain – borderline self-obsessed. Has so many best friends and close family members you will never learn all their names. Doesn’t like to do outside-y things, does like to drink expensive alcohol and play games and talk and talk and talk. And sleep. Work schedule is inconsistent. Relatively poor. Will usually have sex with you, but not during the daytime.”

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The truth is, I (as most people are) am deserving of a perfectly complimentary other half. I also know that I am, and always have been, perfectly happy on my own. Plus interacting with humans on an emotional level is dangerous, confusing, and terrifying. I hear it can also be exciting, magical and rewarding. Future Jill will have to let me know if that’s true. We can’t all have dat fairy-tale lyfe, but dreams are things.

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Sometimes Singledom Sucks.

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As has been said before, I’m a huge fan of being alone. I have no problem eating alone at a restaurant (although I always always prefer to-go because HELLO that way you can watch Netflix while you eat your thai food!). Going to events solo isn’t a phobia I possess because I have some killer social skills. And because I have a dog, I have someone to snuggle literally every night. It’s not a bad situation, this singledom I rule. See what I did there – kingdom/singledom? So clever, I know.

People like myself who have been single for basically forever will be the first to defend their relationship status – to prattle off about how much they enjoy it or how they function better solo or how they don’t want to be in a relationship. All of those things are true, probably, and I’m not arguing them by any means. I just want to have some L real talk for a minute. It’s Saturday night, and I’m a little lonely. It’s Saturday night, and I really want to flirt with someone. It’s Saturday night, and I’m going on 20 days with a burnt out lightbulb in my closet and I can’t fix it because I’m too short to reach it. Tonight being single sucks.

C and I have a very tongue in cheek opinion on dating and we try to not take it too seriously. I consider each date I go on to have potential – either a potential story or a potential next date. Both are results I’m perfectly happy with, so here we are, writing a dating blog. But I think I’m personally a little freaked out to admit is this: I want this to work. I realized recently I actually want to feel passionate about something other than my favorite band. I want to date someone and feel that exciting beginning feeling. And clearly by admitting this all, I’m proving that I’ve been listening to WAY too much Taylor Swift this weekend. Have you listened to “Wildest Dreams?” I literally almost started crying on a sidewalk today while out with my pup. Told y’all, this is a real talk moment!

I was at a bar last night, and this friend I haven’t seen in a million years and I got to talking about this little blog we’re running and he asked how we go about planning our topics (the exact question was different but that’s the jist of what I remember so dear sir I apologize if I’m mis-quoting you!). I explained that for me personally, I take whatever I’m moved to write about and then set out to explain a central thesis. And of course I want to make it humorous because hi that’s my defense mechanism, have you noticed that yet? Good. Glad we’re being honest. I explained that I never wanted to write for the sake of writing. But here I am on a Saturday night, and there’s no central point I’m trying to make here about dating. I’m just rambling on and on and it’s getting a little uncomfortably “feel-y.”

So let’s try this for a point. Sometimes being single isn’t the funny, fun, exciting thing I do my best to make it out to be. Sometimes you want to celebrate good news with someone kissing you. Sometimes you want to have Sunday plans with a thing/person other than the Seahawks. Sometimes having an automatic date to a holiday party is so appealing. And sometimes, you’re too short to reach your closet’s lightbulb and just really need a fucking hand. Sometimes being single is shit, and I don’t know I just want you to know that sometimes I know it’s not funny and hey girl, hey man, I see you and get it.

First Dates And What You Probably Shouldn’t Do

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In case you weren’t aware, C and I hate dating. Following the rejection I received from The Joker I was even less excited to date than I was before, which is pretty hard to top. Because many people have asked, no – I still haven’t heard from him. I’m usually right about most things in life except when it comes to my own personal life, but in this case I was really really right. My friend MF told me I should probably wait a week before writing about my dates, but that’s just not possible considering how impatient I am. Whoops! But enough about The Joker, let’s move the eff on.

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I temporarily disabled Tinder because I’m impulsive like that so I’ve been a smidge more active on other dating apps/websites. Do any of you realize how ANNOYING Zoosk is? Expect a full post about that down the road, don’t worry. My point is: if you’re single and only using Tinder, you should really branch out. The last few weeks I’ve been using Hinge – which is weirdly sort of like a combo of Tinder and LinkedIn and Facebook? You’re given a daily queue of potential matches and those matches are selected for you because you have friends in common with them. It makes for simple as pie Facebook stalking and provides for easy small talk like “how do you know so-and-so” and then you get to talk about the one time you got stupid drunk in a college dorm room with that aforementioned so-and-so. Yay small talk!

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Oh Captain, My Captain and I have a few friends in common so we met for drinks at Revolver – a bar with awesome lighting that spins great vinyl and charges too much for whiskey. That though didn’t stop me from drinking way too much of it. Yes, I got WAY too drunk on a first date. That’s like the cardinal sin of dating! You are never supposed to get as drunk as I was! The thing is I always forget that my signature drink order (cheap beer and good whiskey) actually is two drinks and NOT one drink. That’s like the simplest math ever, and still I didn’t realize that my three drink orders tallied up an actual alcohol count of SIX drinks. Guys, SIX DRINKS.  To give a great example of my behavior: I was so drunk that when we went to get dinner, I decided abruptly that I was too drunk to be in public and basically ran out the door! That is so totally not encouraged. I woke up the next morning, and after checking my text messages, I guess my drunkeness wasn’t a deal breaker? Maybe he likes girls that get sloppy drunk on first dates?

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Oh Captain, My Captain works in the shipping industry. He is bearded and stout and just generally handsome. He looks like he could chop wood and then go inside and cuddle a kitten. He can tell great stories and went on and on about how much he hates Steve Jobs which was kind of endearing. He’s the kind of guy who’s just a damn great first date – good at talking about himself, good at asking questions, confident, and apparently knows the importance of eye contact. I felt like I was sitting across from Hugh Jackman. Is that weird? Maybe I’m still drunk?

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Me, on the other hand, I’ve been a MUCH better first date than I was the other night. I talked about how one of the mutual friends we have in common is actually someone I used to date, THAT IS NOT SOMETHING YOU SHOULD DO ON A FIRST DATE. I rambled on and on about my dad on several occasions, which I don’t think is very encouraged. I talked about how one of the karaoke songs I love to do is “You Oughta Know” by Alanis Morisette because, and I quote, “I think it makes the balls of every guy in the room shrivel back into their bodies.” Why would any human on a date say that? Why? Oh and let’s not forget how I left the restaurant in the middle of our meal because I was too drunk, only to go BACK IN and kiss him? Did I mention that I definitely did that? Or at least I vaguely remember doing that, it’s all a little hazy. I make terrible decisions.

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I said and did many many stupid things on this first date, and yet maybe he finds bumbling drunk idiots endearing? Oh Captain, My Captain and I will go out again and I solemnly swear to drink less on our second date. Most likely. Maybe.