Well, it's been about a month since Hot Stuff and I moved in together. I find it very interesting how people react to the news that you have moved in with your boyfriend. You get a rainbow of opinions from, "That's so exciting, we're so happy for you!" to, "Wow, that was fast." (*The author would like to note that these people should probably keep their comments to themselves). At any rate, what I've found the most interesting is that people are very curious about the so-called "transition period" of adapting to living with your significant other. According to their questions we were supposed to have had some type of argument, complaints about living habits, and/or issues with space by now. I asked my teammie if it was wrong that we've not yet had any of these issues. Our consensus was no. Am I saying that we are the "Dream Couple" immune to what seems to be the norm? Definitely not, but I'm also not ashamed to say that things are going well so far. If anything, I'd say that if you have a good sense of humor, moving in with your boyfriend can be pretty entertaining. So in the spirit of finding this so called entertainment, I'd like to give you some things I think you need to keep in mind if you are cohabitating...
So you moved in with your boyfriend...
1. Better make sure you listen to their health needs. When we first moved in together, Hot Stuff told me that he was allergic to all laundry detergents except for All. Me, being me, assumed that he was full of it since I'm a strict Tide girl. "He's used my towels and sheets before," I thought, "He's just being paranoid." So I continued to use Tide secretly until one day I foolishly left the Tide on the laundry basket. Upon seeing this, Hot Stuff lifted up his shirt to show me the rash on his chest that he'd apparently had for two weeks and couldn't figure out where it was coming from. Oddly enough, it only got irritated with the shirts that I had washed, and not the ones that he had washed. Yeaaaah, I felt pretty bad. He claimed he was going to start cooking me dinner with pineapple and mango in it, which would likely cause me to go into anaphylactic shock. We now refer to this event as his assassination attempt. Just to be on the safe side, listen to your significant other when they tell you they are allergic to something, otherwise you might have a "hitch"situation on your hands.
2. Always remember- he's still a man. See dialogue below:
Me: When are the walk through papers due?
H.S.: I'm not sure, soon.
Me: How do we get set up in the directory?
H.S.: Yeah, we need to look into that.
Me: How do we pay rent?
H.S.: I think I got an email...
Me: Where is the recycling?
H.S.: I don't think they have recycling.
Me: We are Democrats! It's our job to recycle!
Okay, so this conversation demonstrates that sometimes even when men are really trying their best, it takes a woman to figure out all those small, yet important details. 'Tis what makes us a good pair in my opinion.
3. Time to invest in some very necessary items. Our friends gave us this excellent housewarming gift. Invest in it, then have a giggle.
4. You might want to consider downsizing. It's no secret that we moved over the holidays meaning that Hot Stuff did the majority of the heavy lifting while I was lifting red bean buns to my face. During our phone conversations in which I continuously thanked him for his labor, there was an unmistakable feeling that he was concerned about just how much "stuff" I was bringing with me. So I have four boxes labelled "Cake Decorating Supplies" and a gift wrap holder bigger than a tent...don't we all? By the end of the unpacking and putting together the puzzle that is our kitchen cabinets, it was clear that some stuff had to go. The beauty of this was that it was actually very refreshing to unload some items. I have enough Goodwill receipts to get a pretty hefty tax write off, and I sold enough clothes to justify a trip to Ikea, (It's called Twice ladies, so easy and totally worth it!). So if you're making the move, at least make the best of it and clear out the clutter.
5. Things may have just gotten a whole lot easier. When I was living by myself I would often wish that I had a house elf to do my bidding. Okay, so my dreams of living in Harry Potter world never quite panned out, but there's no doubt that living with your boyfriend offers a lot of support that you don't really think of. Someone can start the coffee in the morning, pick up last minute groceries on the way home from work, or even make the bed with Orange Bear perfectly set on top. I guess I never thought that having someone around to help with everyday life would be just that, helpful. But what I've found is that it's a nice perk which I want to reciprocate. Funny how that works right? I guess there really is no I in team.
Well, there you have it, just a few pieces of advice from this novice as I sit perched on my amazing new couch. But all silliness aside, it's quite hard to beat coming home to your person. So whether you've cohabitated for years, months, or never, go hug the Hot Stuff in your life...and toss out that old laundry detergent.
It was around this time last year that I read an article in my magazine titled, "Could You Go a Week Without Bitching?" This title struck me since it's not every day that you sit and analyze just how many things you've been griping about. And as 2015 began, I started to consider what my new year's resolution should be. Well, as most of you know, I've recently moved to a new apartment. When anyone asks how my winter break was, without even thinking I start talking about how terrible it was to move when it was -5 degrees outside, that it was incredibly busy and expensive to move just after the holidays, and that I'm so dreadfully tired of living out of boxes, not to mention the fact that the stinking couch is backordered. Did you hear that? Bitch. Whine. Moan. What I should be saying is that I felt great after donating many household items to a family of Congo refugees, that my sweet boyfriend moved the majority of my apartment while I was gone visiting my family, and that our new apartment is amazing and I'm loving the new living situation. How is it that I completely leave those positive details out and go directly to complaining?
After this little moment of self reflection, I decided I needed to look at this in a bit more in depth. First, I'd like to say that men bitch too, they just usually let it go and then they're done. Women on the other hand, tend to let it fester. For example, when eating lunch with coworkers one person's complaint turns into a series of complaints, and all of the sudden everyone has joined the bitching choir and we're all singing the same tune. What I've also noticed is that when you don't join in with your fellow complainers you do one of two things:
1. You start bitching about their bitching. Ie: "Ugh, did you hear _______? She's so negative all the time, she makes me crazy!"
2. You feel bad that you are not bitching. Ie: "Everyone is complaining about their evaluation, but I'm not because mine was good. I'm going to go hide from them now."
Bitching is contagious, and incredibly easy to catch, so oftentimes you get sucked in. We are trained to think that if we can just get something off our chest, we'll feel better afterwards. The trouble is that after we return to our desks, rather than feeling
relieved, we are more bothered than
ever. Your body feels tense, your blood pressure is on the rise, and then you need to go find someone else to share your complaints with stat...the ugly cycle continues because complaining is closely linked to gossiping, which let's be real, can be addictive. I recently met a friend for breakfast and decided to make the cognitive choice not to bitch about anything. Guess what happened? We still had things to talk about! Okay, okay, sense a little sarcasm here, but truly, it's amazing how good I felt after I left. I felt refreshed, joyful to spend time with someone I hadn't seen in a long time, and just plain happy that I had such a great start to the day. That is the feeling that I want to maintain.
Aren't we all tired of the complaining? We hear it over the annual family Christmas conundrums, we see it every hour from that one friend that we all have on Facebook, we think it each and every second we inch along the highway during rush hour, and worst of all we hear it coming from our own mouths about whatever small and trivial thing has happened to us. For me, I think it's just a change of mindset, a choice that you have to make to be more positive. Am I saying that from now on a complaint will never cross my lips? Not
likely. Because let's be real, not all days at work are going to be stellar, you won't love everyone you meet, and some days there will be an inch of ice you have to carve your way out of before you go to work. But I think I should at least be a bit more conscientious. For both your sake, and for mine. Because if we can approach things without the instant need to exchange and bond over bitching, I bet we'd all be a bit happier. It's a little less this:
Halloween has just passed and my participation in this holiday made me laugh at how things have changed. My night of festivities started with Chinese takeout, worked it's way into watching Harry Potter, and ended with a very tired and happy me in bed by 11:00. This may make me sound like a total loser, but I wouldn't have wanted it any other way. You see, Hot Stuff had to work that evening so I had a few options. I could 1. Go hang out with my married/pregnant/have families friends or I could 2. Go out with my friends who were undoubtedly intoxicated and out all night dressed in some ironic costume. And not that I don't love both parties, but the thought of doing either was quite unappetizing. This event has made me think of signs that you may be entering the uncharted territory of a new decade. You might be an almost 30 year old if...
You have your married friends...and your unmarried friends.
My friend has been married for three years and is a fabulous mother to two boys. I'm not sure if I make faces or funny comments, but lately she's been asking me if I'd prefer that my friends didn't have children. My response to this is, of course not! My married friends have made me an auntie and are still the loving, wonderful people that I've known for ages, just with the bonus of husbands and babies. But can I connect to breastfeeding woes or the trials of time out? Well, let's just say that I had to ask the two year old if I was changing his diaper correctly, ("Sure," was the response).Having friends that are married with families is different because you are not doing the same things anymore, your priorities change. I know I'm not to that stage in my life, but that doesn't mean that I don't support those who are.
Now let's scoot to the unmarried friends. These are the people you can call up more spontaneously for dinner or other happenings. You go out with them on Saturday nights, watch football with them on Sundays, and have a cocktail with them at happy hour. Now while I still love these friends, the trouble is that sometimes it feels like you're ready to move past some of these activities. I really am too old to be staying up into the wee hours of the morning, sometimes the couch is better than a bar, and some of those high heels will probably cause me to have back issues. So somehow, whether I intended to or not, I'm caught in between two very different groups of people and I'm not sure if I fit with either one...yep, I'm almost 30.
Your living arrangements are changing.
About two years ago I went through this phase where I was convinced that everything in my apartment was inadequate. All of the sudden I needed a new color scheme complete with eye-catching centerpieces to tie elements together. I was tired of my apartment looking like what it was- a place where hand-me-downs went to die. When you're in your early and mid 20s, you take whatever people give you because you'd rather buy shoes. But when you're nearly 30, you have to buy things for your apartment AND shoes.
Decor is not the only thing that you may change as you near the next decade. I'll take your color scheme and raise you a Hot Stuff. That's right, I know I'm much later to this than most, but I'll be moving in with my boyfriend at the end of the year. Talk about changing your living arrangements! And get this, we're getting furniture that does not have assembly directions created by a Swedish artist! Not only that, I've taken three carloads of junk to Goodwill already and will probably do three more, simply because I think he might reconsider dating me altogether if he really knew how much shit I can put into one closet. I also doubt that he'll understand that it's okay to own this many possessions if they were purchased on clearance. The scariest part of this moving ordeal has been telling my parents. The one clear response from both of them was, "Well, it's not like you're a kid. You're almost 30, you can make your own decisions." Now my parents called me old...gross.
You're suddenly very concerned about your health and aging.
I'm proud to say that I read my Glamour magazine cover to cover every month for the past 12 years. In almost every issue there is an article about how to take care of your skin, body, mind, etc. if you're in your 20s, 30s, 40s, and 50s. Reality hit me when I had to start reading the 30s column. Do you have any idea how many more things you have to do once you reach that column!?! I've added anti-aging products to my regimen because apparently now is the time to protect my skin from cracks and crevices, my body from heart disease, and my mind from chronic stress. I meditate, I started buying organic, and I have eye cream on my nightstand. Who am I?
No doubt the biggest change I've made as an almost 30 year old is that nine weeks ago I stopped eating sugar. It only takes five family members to get type 2 diabetes to scare the sweet tooth right out of you. Was it hard? No. It was f-ing horrible! But I feel better, I weigh less, and don't even crave it as much now. I guess what I'm saying is now I'm not trying to be healthy to be skinny, I'm trying to be healthy so someday I can run like the old lady on the neighboring treadmill today.
You're constantly wondering if you are in the right career. Oh man, I could probably write an entire thesis paper on this topic, but all I'm going to say is this:
1. My job makes me crazy and I'm trying to find a way to make it better and more rewarding both mentally and financially.
2. All signs are pointing to me continuing in this career but my mind is telling me it is ready for a change.
3. I'm thinking this might just be adulthood.
4. I don't understand how people do the same job for 30 years. Wait...I bet those people get raises and respect.
5. My teammate is the only reason I'm surviving. Oh, and sometimes my students, like when they pushed me down the hallway on a cart. I've got to find some ways to have fun, right?
Well, there you have it, the signs that you might be an almost 30 year old. Am I complaining? Not in the slightest. But hopefully there are others out there that can relate to this interesting time. Oh, and hopefully someone is planning me an epic 30th birthday bash.
I apologize for my blogging absence! It's kind of crazy how your regularly scheduled programming changes once you have a boyfriend and school starts back up. At any rate, a few weeks ago we decided to voyage into the great unknown otherwise known as going on a vacation together. Our bags were packed and our alarm was set for our 5:45 a.m. flight to Florida for his cousin's wedding. Well, sort of.
What I do remember is hearing the alarm, rolling over, and managing to mumble, "We're going to Florida today!" What I also remember is Hot Stuff saying, "We can leave at 4:15 at the latest." Well, I rolled over and the clock was flashing 4:19. Shit.
Long story short is we missed our flight, spent the day on standby to Dallas where we braved the ebola-filled air to miss yet another flight, got transferred to Tampa, and then rented a car to make the 2.5 hour drive to Fort Myers. Whew. At least we were able to pull over at one of the 143 Chili's located on I-75 to watch the Dodgers game, (obviously this smile is pre-loss, sigh).
Despite all the hassle, I do have to say that you learn a lot about your significant other when put in stressful situations like these. I laugh because while going through this entire day calling my mom and friends to update them of our status, everyone kept asking how Hot Stuff was handling the situation. "Things like this really tell you a lot about a person," they seemed to chant. Yeeeah...pretty sure they should've been asking how I was handling things as I was probably the person who required the most deep breaths. While talking to the gate agents I transformed into Kate McCallister a la this:
So I don't have an eight year old son that I left home alone, but I did quote that entire scene multiple times throughout the day.
Whereas Hot Stuff got us on a flight because a gate agent fell in love with this smile.
She literally asked what type of toothpaste he used. I really didn't care what he flashed her, I just wanted on the plane. It worked.
All in all it was a quick but fun trip. I learned to always set two alarms, to book the last flight of the night as opposed to the first flight of the morning, and that the TSA is very fast and efficient...just kidding. But what I will say is that I can officially cross missing a flight off my bucket list and thanks to the efforts of my calm and dapper comrade I lived to tell the tale.
Well, as of August 1st my birthday month officially began, and as I slowly creep towards 29, I have to admit that I've started feeling something...old. Okay, okay, so I'm not that old, but what I have noticed is something that we all fear as we are growing up. I'm going to tell a little story to illustrate this.
This is my father.
And yes, the little cutie patootie on the right is me. Anywho,when I was home for the holidays this year my dad had a sliver. He came into the kitchen and I watched him remove said sliver. He started by pouring peroxide into the cap of the bottle and dipping a needle and tweezers into the liquid to sanitize his tools. He then winced in pain as he worked to pull it out. Once the sliver was removed he poured the remaining peroxide over the wound, cleaned his tools, and all was good in the world again. This was the look that was left on my face:
At this point you're probably wondering why I'm telling you this story. Well friends, I was left with this perplexing look because this is EXACTLY how I would've handled my own sliver situation. What this small act made me realize was that I have become my parents (dun, dun, dun). I know. Scary right?
There is an ongoing debate in psychology that is commonly referred to as nature vs. nurture. In other words, are we born with certain traits and characteristics or do we acquire them from our upbringing? Traits that I believe I have acquired via the nature path are as follows:
Short Buddha legs- thanks Mom and Gung Gung
Hairy legs- thanks Dad's Italian side
Hong chin (which is a chin that looks like it just got smacked on your face, just look at all of my cousins below)- again from Mom and Gung Gung
Curly hair- brought to you by Mom and Dad (not sure what happened in BV's DNA)
Freckles- again from both sides of the family tree
But as I think more about my personality and beliefs, it becomes easy to see how my parent's nurturing has created the monster that is me :)
Intellect- I'm not trying to toot my own horn here, but yes, I
consider myself to be smart. I know that I owe many of study habits and
my love for devouring new knowledge to my parents. Both of my parents
have worked in the education field, but more important than that is they instilled in me the idea that knowledge is power and learning
is important. They've taught me to be curious which is something I am truly
grateful for.
Creativity- My dad is a writer, my mom
is a chef and a quilter. Therefore, my sister makes costumes for a
living and I have a closet overflowing with cake decorating supplies. Not only do I love to learn, but I love to be creative and explore (much to the dismay of people that get forced to craft with me like my cousin below). Kudos Mom and Dad!
Political beliefs- I think most everyone knows how I feel about politics. I guess I shouldn't really be surprised that your parents have an
influence on your political beliefs, but my family apparently took things to the extreme because we had a teddy bear named Clinton and a stuffed beaver named
Algore (all one word, mind you).
Bargain hunting- Say what? That's not a family trait. Well, it is if you're in my family. For pretty much anything I own you can say, "Hey, I like your ________." And my response will be, "Thanks, I got it on sale for $____." I can't merely tell you that I appreciate your compliment, I must also let you know about the bargain/sale/coupon/additional percent off clearance that allowed me to purchase this product. And guess what? The whole family does it.
Humor- I think my parents gave both my sister and I a very good sense of humor rooted around the idea that you should never take yourself too seriously. We like to have fun- to tease my Dad for his sweet dance moves and inability to whisper, and to laugh at my Mom's ridiculous charade abilities or random one liners. Our ability to laugh together is among my favorite family traits. (PS- Sorry Mom, I had to post this.)
Sports enthusiast- Everyone knows the Pickle Family are Dodgers fans, but that's not all. Our neighbors could hear us yelling when the Utah Jazz were playing for the Championship, my Dad danced on the desks in his classroom the last time the Broncos won the Superbowl, and my mom's caller ID photo is still of her doing her best Tebow. The last time my sister was over at my apartment I watched her transform into my parents as she screamed at the Dodgers on T.V. "Are you eff-ing kidding me!?! What are you eff-ing swinging at!? That's a ball!" Yeah, Dad would've been proud.
Well, what can I say? I am truly a product of my parents. But luckily, I think my parents are pretty fantastic and have instilled in me beliefs, values, and bits of personality that I am proud to say make me who I am. So the next time you see your dad taking out a sliver, or another act that reminds you frighteningly of yourself, don't worry, you're not the only one.
Well, judging by the response to my last blog, a lot more people read this than I thought! And while I'm pretty sure you'd like me to cut right to how things went with Hot Stuff, I'd first like to talk a bit about my new dating theory which I have named The Dating Games. Those of you that know me well, know that I'm a big fan of analogies, therefore I've chosen to compare dating to the story of The Hunger Games. Allow me to draw some similarities between the two.
1. Dating is scary. One of the first scenes in The Hunger Games involves Katniss volunteering as tribute for her sister. When you say yes to dating someone for the first time, I feel like you sound a lot like Katniss in this scene- panicked, attempting to show bravery, nervous, and suddenly wondering why you volunteered to take off your sweatpants and go on a date instead. Like Katniss, we all instantly think, "What the eff did I just sign up for?"
2. Dating is cutthroat. The whole premise of The Hunger Games is that you have to kill people in order to win. Obviously I'm not killing people when I'm dating, but we're not exactly nice to each other either. We all play those stupid games that usually involve some sort of telephone call, (or lack thereof) or maybe being blunt and cutting someone's pride and self confidence to near nothingness. Whatever it is, feelings will get hurt and sometimes you just have to turn your head and pretend not to care. It's awful. Just as awful as it was to watch Rue die (cue mockingjay whistle).
3. Dating is competitive. When the Games begin, there is a group of competitors called the Career Tributes. They are born and bred to compete in these games. In the dating world, they're called tall blondes. Bitches. We all bring our own combination of brains, beauty, and personality to the table when it comes to dating. I just choose to believe that my combo will conquer all of the other tributes, just like Katniss did-except she used a bow and arrow and I will use cupcakes.
4. Dating involves taking risks. I'd say the biggest risk that Katniss and Peeta take is when they decide to eat those poisonous berries to spite the Capitol. My biggest dating risk has been dating someone who I wouldn't normally date. I had this great epiphany where I discovered that my type isn't really my type, it's just what society tells me my type should be (did you get that?). To this I say, screw the Capitol, and screw society- he makes me happier than I've been in a long time.
5. Dating requires a support team. Katniss' support team involves a drunk, a chick with crazy hair, and Lenny Kravitz. My team consists of BV, Amanda, Chelsea, Abby, Laura, Allison, Di, Pam and Rachel who, in my opinion, are just as good as the representatives from District 12. One cannot survive this without their team.
6. Whilst dating, mistakes can be made. However, these mistakes can be mended. Katniss' biggest mistake is that she initially ditches Peeta who is undoubtedly her best ally- he is kind, knows how to use his strengths, and can camouflage like a Navy SEAL. Luckily she goes back to find him and together they are able to survive. My biggest mistake was having an anxiety attack on the corner of 12th and Broadway and word vomiting things about being unsure and needing time and space. I actually think I used that, "It's not you, it's me" line. Fortunately, after 48 hours, a t-chart, and some damage control it's now something to laugh about. Both Katniss and I have regrets about our mistakes and very understanding and patient male counterparts.
7. Dating can only succeed when there are two winners. In the end of The Hunger Games, Katniss and Peeta play the roles of star-crossed lovers to help them become victors. In other words, you must work together in order for dating to work. And so it is with me and Hot Stuff. Yeah, yeah, I didn't forget to tell you about him. It's been almost a month now and things are going quite swimmingly. Like Peeta, he is the nicest guy on the planet, ever so thoughtful, and makes me feel like smiling for days. I could go on for quite some time, but I'm pretty sure he'll
reading this, so I have to leave some things to the imagination. :)
As an active participant in The Dating Games, I'll just say that beginnings are always scary and it's strange getting to know someone new. It is also incredibly difficult to just let yourself fall without knowing whether things will end with the deathly boom of the cannon or the joys of a victory tour. The challenge is to embrace the unknown because it might just lead you to finding the exact things that you were looking for in the first place. And so, to my fellow tributes currently competing in harsh reality of The Dating Games, I say stay strong, and may the odds be ever in your favor.
It was really only a matter of time before I caved to my friend's peer pressure. Yes, the time has finally come for me to throw my cares to the wind and join Match. Initially the idea of online dating really freaked me out, but I decided that perhaps this truly is the new way to date in the 21st century. I'm giving it a month before making any rash decisions, and lucky for you, I've decided to document my experiences (because if all else fails, at least this should make for an entertaining blog post). Enjoy!
Day 1: Set up my profile, added some pictures and waited for the ride begin.
2 hours in: A "wink" from a creepy 40 year old black dude. A "like" from a 23 year old redheaded cowboy. A little Indian man that would like to meet me for drinks. Apparently need to update profile preferences to be more specific.
Day 2: A slew of emails, change of email settings, and old, fat, creepy men checking my profile. Let's just say I thought I'd draw a better crowd. As my self confidence begins to shrink, I'm starting to wonder when all of the preppy white guys get online and see my great potential.
Day 3: Watched an episode of Sex and the City tonight in which Samantha says, "You can't swing your Fendi without hitting five losers." I'd up it to more like 20. Trying to find the humor so I don't cry at the thought that this is now my new hunting grounds. Ugh, can I make it the whole month?
Day 4: My experiences today can best be summed up by TLC.
Guys be like:
I be like:
Day 5: I'm tired of getting lame responses, time to overhaul my profile. Did some Googling in hopes of finding tips on writing the best profile ever. Sent said profile to Team Mingle, aka my closest friends, to make sure it sounds like "me". Added a few different pictures. Wait.
Day 6: New profile is slight success. Men seem to be enjoying my witty banter. Ha. Member of Team Mingle's husband is out of town= the two of us attempting to write more witty banter emails. It took us 90 minutes and a leftover chocolate bunny to write 9 sentences equating to 3 emails. Who knew it'd be this much work?
Day 7: Patiently waiting for my potential dates to respond to our cleverly crafted messages. Instead got a message from my ex-boyfriend's friend. Awesome.
Day 8-9: Decided to officially boycott for a few days. I seem to have a very love/hate relationship with this.
Day 10: Got a very nice message from a hobbit man the other day, so decided to thank him for his message even though I'm not interested in joining him at the Shire. Figured I could use the good karma. Five minutes later I got an email from a potential guy. He gave me his phone number. Hmmm...what does one do with this?
Day 11: Discuss said phone number with Team Mingle. They think he sounds nice and normal. Deep breath, I think I'm actually going to have to contact him.
Day 12: Waited until today to text the ominous phone number- don't want to seem too eager. He says, "Hi! How are you?" Have to contact Team Mingle to determine how I am. I'm pretty sure I should be better at this. Turns out texting strangers is much harder than you think it will be.
Day 13: And so the texting begins...
Me: So, what should I know about you?
Sconnie: I like to work out and I'm from Wisconsin. You?
Me: (Wow, this guy is a talker!) I just taught an epic geography lesson and today my pants are orange. I'm from Utah and I'm going to Body Pump at 4:30 if you want to join.
Sconnie: Will you be wearing the orange pants? (Ha. He might not be so bad after all).
Day 14: Witty text banter continues throughout the day, specifically jokes revolving around crack and donuts (yeah, I know I'm classy). He asks me out for coffee. Holy shit, I'm actually going to have to meet this guy. Contact Team Mingle again...what will I wear!?
Day 15: Today our text conversation consists of broken Spanish. I don't know why, though I find this very entertaining. Please, God, just let him be a normal human with good bone structure.
Later that day... Coffee turned into a two hour conversation. The talking was generally easy and I got over my nerves quickly. Lucky for me he was better looking in person and I know how to hold a conversation about baseball. Couldn't seem to shake the fact that if this guy was one of Snow White's dwarfs, he would definitely be Grumpy. Get this, he doesn't like The Lion King (!?!?!). I left feeling like this guy needs me to bring some joy into his life but I'm not exactly sure what I'd get out of the relationship. I'd give it a 3 out of 5.
Day 16: He hasn't called. I read He's Just Not That Into You, I know how this part works. I'm not sure that I was that into him either, but I was at least willing to put in some time to figure it out. He used the word "skered" so I'm thinking it's not really that big of a loss. Back to square one. Sigh.
Day 17: Well, Grumpy still hasn't called, but I guess if my nickname for him is Grumpy it's probably a sign that it wouldn't have worked out.
Day 18: Got a new message today from a super funny guy, (his profile reads, "I work for a creative marketing agency, which means I'm creative and I work at an agency, just like James Bond). Apparently it's onward and upward because I already have a new date this weekend with Mr. Bond. I decide to move on ala Jay Z style:
Day 19: Continue emailing with Mr. Bond. This guy seems pretty great as he makes jokes based on historical events and I'm also pretty susceptible to his flattery. Looking forward to Sunday.
Day 20-21: One cannot search for a soul mate when they have a night of Parent Teacher Conferences.
Day 22: Got a message today from a very attractive fellow, (like had to do a double take hotness). He's a bit shorter, which isn't really a problem, it's just that this girl has an extensive heel collection that must be considered. Team Mingle had me stand next to a coworker who is the same height as Hot Stuff and it was determined that this could work. Messaged him back.
PS- I got another message from someone named "chinky_rican". Am I the only one offended by this? Yeah just because I haven't mentioned the weirdos for a few days doesn't mean they've gone away...
Day 23: Heard back from Hot Stuff, he seems to be okay except for the fact that he is a Phillies fan. Ew. Haven't heard from Mr. Bond in a few days, starting to wonder if we are still on for our latte session.
Day 24: Have moved towards the texting stage with Hot Stuff, and height is apparently not an issue because as my mom says, "You're not exactly a giant." Right. Still no word from Mr. Bond. Part of me was worried that he was too funny, ie: not serious. On one hand I don't care because I deserve to be chased damn it, but on the other I care because I let myself get excited. Damn it.
Day 25: Never in my life has a guy not called me back or have I been stood up...until this week. That's right, Mr. Bond happens to also be Mr. Dick. Apparently because it's online dating suddenly means that human decency doesn't apply. You have to have emotions of steel for this. All of this searching,
liking, writing, filtering, updating. I feel like no one tells you just
how much time you have to put in just to get a conversation started, only to be sorely disappointed by the quality of men left in the world. It
makes me feel like this:
I know what I'm looking for, I just didn't think it'd be this hard to find it.
Day 26: Received an email from Mr. Dick. That mother fucker (sorry, there is no other word that will suffice) had the audacity to claim that he was "busy" and that we should maybe still get together. Unfortunately I think I have made plans until the end of the century. Unreliability does not a relationship make. Thank goodness for Hot Stuff.
Day 27: The texting continues with Hot Stuff and it looks like we have a date. How should I say this...um, he's pretty great.
Day 28: I've started ignoring my Match profile altogether as the only person I want to talk to is Hot Stuff anyway. This guy is thoughtful (ie: sending a good morning text, aww!), funny, and we have a lot in common. I'm not excited for our date at ALL, (said me with my voice dripping in sarcasm).
Day 29: Member of Team Mingle walks into my classroom. "Girl, you can feel the happiness beaming out of your smile from over here!" Um, yeah. Maybe he's more than just pretty great.
Day 30: How can you be so attracted to someone you've never met? Our date is the day after tomorrow and I am literally sick to my stomach with nerves. Obviously the only way to make this better is to go shopping and get a manicure. I've been trying to keep myself grounded and have chanted the following phrases in my head all day:
Please let him not suck.
Please let him not be a tool.
Please let him be kind.
Please let me find my confidence.
Please just make it to at least a second date.
So after a month on Match how do I feel? Well I've definitely learned a few things. 1. You have to be open to things you thought you wouldn't be. Initially I was very picky and didn't respond to numerous messages and such. But to avoid feeling like you're ordering dinner rather than a date, you have to give everyone a shot. Well, almost everyone. 2. Dating is crazy. Obviously my experience is limited as my last relationship was 8 years long, but it's WAY different now. I've learned to not grow too attached, to not feel guilty if there's not a connection, and to always keep in mind what I deserve. 3. You must have unfailing confidence in who you are. Honestly, this was the hardest part for me. You have to stop seeing things as rejection, but more as a difference in preference. You have to realize that it doesn't matter how many losers contact you, because in the end, you only need one. I have spent the past year and a half putting myself back together and thinking about what it is that I want, and it finally feels like I'm wise enough not to walk into something that isn't right. So will it work out with Hot Stuff? Only time will tell, but at least I'm putting myself out there and searching for the love that I now know I deserve. Stay tuned...
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