Fun with G-Chat

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Ah GMail – it is a wonderful thing. It auto-archives all my chats and between that and me keeping all e-mails, I now have about 400 million options of WTF to pick from for the book. Of course, not everything can go in there, but some chats are just too good not to at least talk about. So I now present to you, “Fun with GChat, 2009”:

Scene One:

Me: yeah he is definitely being shady

Anon: my friends are telling me to drop him like a hot potato. I don’t think that’s necessarily fair. I don’t think it’s a lost cause. I agree that he’s being an idiot and shady as hell, but I’ve been there, sort of, and if he ever gets his head out of his ass I think it will be worth the trouble. Just, you know, hoping that actually happens.

AND, SCENE.

Okay, what we have here is a lot of excuses and a lot of over analyzing. But what we DO NOT have is someone to say, “Hey, he’s being shady. End of story. Let’s go with: this is not and never will be worth the trouble.” Or if we did have that, we wouldn’t listen anyway.

Scene Two, a continuation:

Me: yeah. Then again you also don’t want to catch him on the rebound. Those never end well. For example, me & Dr. Evil.

Anon: true enough

Me: I love how at your party, in front of Beth, Ben was like, “we’ve both seen Dr. Evil’s Mini-Me”.

Anon: OMFG, that was hilarious.

Me: I know it totally was, but poor Beth was probably like this girl is a WHORE, and then with Ben talking about the strip club, all that’s getting back to John Doe, I would almost guarantee.

Anon: well so what?! Let it!

Me: well, you remember the game telephone, right? I whisper: I have a crush on Pat and by the end it turns into Turtle sex is funny. So this will be like an innocent story gone awry, by the time it gets back to him I will have done a body shot off a stripper’s cleavage before having a threesome in the back room.

AND, SCENE.

What we have here is a disaster. Let’s do this in bullets, it’s easier:

  • Issue 1 = Beth. Beth was a girl I met at a party John Doe and his roommates had one weekend. Because he was nice to her, I immediately felt that if I befriended her, he would in turn be nice to me and realize how amazing I am. False, false and more false. Plus Beth was a nice girl, but one of the most boring people on the planet.
  • Issue 2 = Our friend Ben talking about Dr. Evil (another story for another day) in front of Beth, which involved me going to a strip club with Dr. E the first night we met. BUT I THOUGHT WE WERE ON OUR WAY TO A BAR. Not to mention we were in the middle of nowhere, Wisconsin, so I was pretty much stranded. However, after that, I can say that strip clubs are not all that big of a deal. Yawn.
  • Issue 3 = Fearing and hoping at the same time this story would get back to John Doe. So many issues, so little time.
  • Issue 4 = See issues 1-3.

Scene Three:

After discovering I correctly predicted two friends would end up dating:

Me: since I seem to be able to sense these things, I am going to speculate that John Doe & Amanda are something. When her number got called to race a turtle she like threw her arms up and he grabbed her hand and they walked over together with their arms up holding hands. I was like, “ANOTHER DRINK PLEASE THANKS.”

Anon: oh my.

Me: and they had dinner together

Anon: oh wow, yeah, you might be right

Me: all nice and fucking cozy

AND, SCENE.

First let me elaborate on the turtle. There is at least one bar in Chicago that has turtle racing on Friday nights. It is literally the dumbest, most boring thing you could imagine, but I went because John Doe was going. You actually can’t feel anything but bad for the poor things, they are so confused. I mean they don’t get hurt or anything, but it is still pretty lame watching them wander around and then having people try to decide which turtle won, since they are usually waddling around in circles.

Anyway. That night at the races was an emotional landmine for me – watching JD chat up and be normal with other girls while completely ignoring me. Eventually I’d had enough of my own sulking and just left, but not before convincing myself that he and Amanda were an item.

Nothing but a waste of time – and unfortunately, there is plenty more where that came from.

I take offense to that

If you are not one of the 18 million people who have watched this marriage proposal on You Tube, you need to do so immediately:

Okay, now that you’ve seen it, let’s chat.

Katie actually sent me the link because I had recently watched a different proposal using the same song,”Marry You” by Bruno Mars. So, this one was a lot better and I remember asking her, “is that even REAL?” Because it looked TOO perfect.

Well, the couple, Isaac Lamb and Amy Frankel, went on the Today Show, as Katie informed me, so yes, it is very much real. It is really the sweetest story ever – that he thought she deserved a proposal of this magnitude and had upwards of 60 people help him pull it off? Well, that restores my faith in humanity.

After I watched the Today Show video, I was reading the comments, most of which were so fucking rude I want to smack all these people. All these cynical Sallys that are just trolling and should have their humanity cards revoked are one thing. But one particular comment stuck out:

“The bride will be 33? 34? when the average first marriage age for women in the U.S. is about 26. 

For the family it was probably as much relief as joy…..Smile

First of all, FUCK YOU Mr. or Mrs. Insulting. This comment (made by someone called “forbalance”, rendering their gender a mystery) was obviously made by someone who would rather get married out of obligation and social pressure than love. No one who actually understands life would say something like that. Sorry that you’re living in 1950 when the age a person gets married is still relevant to their self worth. Go back in to the fucking delusional and cynical hole you crawled out of, ass-hat.

I seriously take personal offense to that comment – I might never get married at the rate I’m at but I still have a lovely life and no one gives a shit. And shitting all over someone else’s amazingly romantic gesture is the work of a horrible person.

Ugh. Rant over.

30 for 30

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Last year, The Huffington Post republished a story that Glamour magazine featured in a 1997 issue – “30 Things Every Woman Should Have and Should Know by the Time She’s 30.

I am not here to regurgitate the entire list, but rather to comment on the ones that stuck out for me. Either link above will bring you to the full list. And yes, I am qualified to do this since I am now over 30. (*chugs vodka*)

Things you should have:

  • One old boyfriend you can imagine going back to and one who reminds you of how far you’ve come. Surprisingly, I have both. I wasn’t sure I would have someone I could imagine going back to, but that’s not true at all. So even though I have both, the ratio is slightly unbalanced: 1 I can imaging going back to, 8675309 who remind me how far I’ve come.
  • Something perfect to wear if the employer or man of your dreams wants to see you in an hour. Yes to the man, not sure about the employer. I have many options but not sure I could be ready that quickly, what with things having to match, and be ironed, and fit properly.
  • A past juicy enough that you’re looking forward to retelling it in your old age. Um, hello, why do you think I’m writing a book?
  • One friend who always makes you laugh and one who lets you cry. I am so lucky to have MANY of these.

Things you should know:

  • How you feel about having kids. This is so, so, SO important, and you need to be on the same page with your significant other on this, no matter what the page is. And I know where I stand, so that’s good. Actually no I don’t. Yes, I do! Shut up! YOU shut up! Okay, it’s a hard decision to make, luckily not something I need to worry about anytime soon.
  • When to try harder and when to walk away. I have definitely improved here – sometimes you just can’t fix whatever it is you’re working on – a job, relationship (if I just stick it out he’ll eventually realize that…No. No he won’t. He won’t realize anything), book (hey, I’m BUSY, it happens), etc. But knowing when to hold ’em, fold ’em, walk away or run is super important.
  • How to kiss in a way that communicates perfectly what you would and wouldn’t like to happen next.  For REALS – y’all need to have this mastered.
  • How to live alone, even if you don’t like to. No issues here whatsoever. Living alone is the bomb dot com (yes, I really just wrote that. Deal with it. Is “not giving a shit what other people think” on this list?”)
  • What you would and wouldn’t do for money or love. I think Meatloaf is the only person who knows this…
  • Why they say life begins at 30. I think I FINALLY get this. You’re not as self-conscious as you were in your 20’s (maybe not you, but definitely me), you aren’t broke and trying to make a box of pasta last for a week, you understand that what people think of you doesn’t matter, that you think about it more than they do, the world is not out to get you and the paranoia over thinking that goes away.

I sometimes still struggle with not being 22 anymore, what with all the mistakes I’ve made and wishing I could have do-overs. But that is what makes us who we are, I suppose, and wishing things had turned out differently will never make that actually happen.

Do I wish I had handled the entire year of 2008 differently? Sure. Can I do so in 2013? Pretty sure I cannot. One of my biggest regrets was blowing off this super cute lawyer I met in San Diego because I was adamant about only dating people who didn’t actually like me. Do I wish I had answered my phone that day he called to ask me out to dinner? Yep. Can I? Nope. Part of getting older is just learning to let go, and for god’s sake relax a bit. No one makes life more complicated than humans. You don’t see apes green lighting shows called Stage Moms or Double Divas, do you?

Also, this is all how we should feel about getting older:

1+3=5

I have previously mentioned I am terrible at dating. There is nothing worse than having an awesome four-and-a-half hour first date, only to be no closer to a second date four weeks later. (It’s not you! It’s me! It’s too cold! I’m too tired!)

Oh, but how the times have changed. Even five years ago I would have moaned and obsessed and wondered. Now I’m sort of like, “if you don’t want to go out with me again, then stop being up my ass on Facebook. K thx bye.”

It’s very easy to hate things you are bad at, or be bad at the things you hate.

I genuinely HATE dating. When you meet someone online, the first date is usually your first time meeting them in person. If it’s someone you met drunk at a bar/party/on the street (if you’ve seen Clark St. during Cubs season you know what I am talking about), you go into the date wondering if you’ll like each other sober. There’s so much pressure. No one ever has the same end-result in mind. WE MAKE THINGS TOO FUCKING COMPLICATED. It’s not enough to like someone anymore. Now you need to have a fucking bachelor’s degree in texting, masters in body language and a Ph. fucking D in properly playing the game so you can come off as interested yet not crazy yet not TOO interested because that’s a turn-off, yet if you’re too aloof and they stop texting you back you’re all, hey WAIT a minute, I was playing it cool and now you’re fucking some random skank who was willing to put out while I wanted to build something meaningful so I lose either way and if this is what dating is like I’d just rather not – thank you VERY much.

Over the weekend I hit my limit with Mr. No 2nd Date and literally told him to have a nice life because I wasn’t an idiot and I can tell when someone is not interested. This was after the “too tired” excuse. Then of course the next day, he is whining on Facebook that he did nothing but sit on his couch on Saturday night.

Let me pull out my instructional manual and/or doctoral dissertation to decipher that passive-aggressive attempt at sympathy.

Was this lame status update

A) a non-apology apology?

B) fucking stupid

C) I told you that we have to have a Ph. D in this shit.

D) I could NOT care less what the meaning of that status was. I know five years ago it would have led to a two-hour phone call with my best friend trying to figure out the meaning behind it. Now I’m all, “you have no one to blame but yourself, dickwad.”

At least even the best daters sometimes still had problems:

All the single ladies

broken_heart_anti_valentines_day_17 Since today is Valentine’s Day and since I have NEVER IN MY LIFE BEEN IN A RELATIONSHIP THAT WARRANTED A 2/14 CELEBRATION, I wanted to instead look at the bright side of being single on this craptastic holiday. For instance:

  1. There is no pressure whatsoever. “Will he like his gift? Does my underwear match my bra? Does it have holes in it? Did I shave? Why for the love of god did I forget to get a manicure? Does this shirt make my hair look frizzy?” Us single gals don’t have to worry about any of these things.
  2. It’s an excuse to celebrate with your single friends. What other day of the year gives you a better excuse to collect a group of single friends to troll the bars ultimately looking to score? Chicago has an annual “Fuck Valentine’s Day” bar crawl, and while I have never participated (Durkins? Pass. Duffy’s? Maybe if I were 25), I have done fun things with my friends that made the day just as fun without all the formalities.
  3. If you had a bad day and you just want to go home and put on sweatpants, you can! There is no one there to say, “BUT WE WERE SUPPOSED TO GO TO LOU MALNATI’S AND THEN TO SEE SAFE HAVEN, HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME?”
  4. It’s a stupid holiday, who cares?
  5. But that doesn’t mean I won’t support you should you choose to celebrate it.
  6. Another thing about the pressure – depending on the phase of the relationship, are you going to over-analyze celebrating this day? Do you both have the same expectations? WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN????
  7. You won’t have this happen to you (my GOD I would be pissed enough to retract my “yes”).

Being single on V-Day really isn’t the worst thing in the world. Sure in high school it got you the side-eye from the popular bitches who made fun of you for being flat chested, but in the real world, no one cares, and it has nothing to do with anything. At least, that’s what I am telling myself for the 55th consecutive year or whatever.

Why online dating has never worked for me

disgust Earlier today, my friend Jerod tweeted out a link to a blog by Kate Morin, talking about why online dating might not be the answer for everyone.

Morin brings up many good points, some of which are the following:

While many dating sites claim the ability to find your perfect match, social scientists aren’t buying it. Research suggests that, while it is possible to predict whether two people could enjoy spending time together in the short-term, it’s (nearly) impossible to scientifically match two people for long-term compatibility. The strongest predictors of a good, functional relationship are how a couple interacts, and their ability to handle stress — two things that science says current dating website algorithms can’t predict and online profiles can’t demonstrate.

Isn’t that the truth? Wanting to get it on occasionally is not the key to a lasting relationship, and sometimes I feel like all online dating represents is the cesspool of people looking for never-ending casual sex.

Morin also notes:

Even though the number of budding Internet relationships is increasing, the overall rate of partnership is not increasing at all. This suggests that online dating is proving to be no more effective at creating lasting relationships than the old standards.

“I really didn’t see it as any different from the way that people met each other for decades past,” said Feifer. “The thing that… creates a relationship, is not the way you meet, it’s what happens after meeting.”

SO true. I’ve met guys in every way possible and every relationship has failed, so why would I continuously go back to the online route, which has not proven to be any more successful? What way is “every way possible”, you ask?

Just to name more than a few:  online, work, work conferences, through friends, at an art museum, at an airport, via Twitter (don’t judge me!), at a bar, on a Time Out Chicago boat cruise, on an actual cruise, at a baseball game (okay, fine it was the tailgate), at a party, in Vegas (but I guess that wouldn’t count), in Mexico – you get the point. There are literally tens of ways to meet people, so does it seem folks flock to online sites more and more?

My theories:

  • Well, for one thing, it’s easier to lie. Don’t give me that look! Who doesn’t put up their most flattering pictures, or pictures of their better looking sibling, or pictures of someone who isn’t even their relative but is way better looking? “No, that’s not my sister from when she was 22 and doing bikram yoga five days a week, why do you ask?”
  • You literally have thousands of options in front of you all at once. Don’t like that guy/gal’s profile you’re looking at? No problem! There are 4,000 more where that came from. Have fun getting lost in the bottomless pit of trying to differentiate between fact and fiction, virginal or walking STD, booty call or future spouse.
  • The actual looking turns out to be far more fun than the first date: Ugh. The awkwardness of a first date never gets old…or new. Wait, what? I went on one right after graduating college in which we had not exchanged cell phone numbers so I could not call him to tell him I was running 20 minutes late. Luckily, he was still there and every bit the upstanding and handsome gentleman I had hoped for until, upon us leaving the restaurant, he ran to go pee in the woods, and subsequently blocked me from AIM. (God, I really just aged myself, didn’t I? Whatever, I’m 31, people.)
  • Online rejection is easier than in-person rejection, and then you can just drink wine and make fun of the person who rejected you on your blog.

I have also tried literally every online dating site:

  • Match? Check! Went out with pee-in-the-woods guy, nice but insanely boring guy, Hollywood Kisser guy (there was just no spark), and a bunch of others. Right after I turned 28, I got a free month of Match for my birthday, which resulted in zero dates. How depressing.
  • eHarmony? You betcha. I wasn’t quite ready for the intensity of this site. You have to get through like 47 levels to even be able to email the person, and after ALL that effort I wound up on a brunch date with super intense creepy guy who wanted me to commit then and there. DOESN’T HE KNOW COMMITMENT SCARES ME AND WHY WAS I ON eHARMONY AKA MARRIAGE.COM TO BEGIN WITH?
  • OKCupid? Guilty. I have run the gambit with this site – I’ve met online some really stand-up dudes who canceled dates because they wanted to commit to someone else (no, that is not sarcasm), to the creepy ones masking their desire to only hook up with their desire to be in an actual relationship and I might need to bathe in Clorox to stop my skin from crawling, FYI.
  • Plenty of Fish? You caught me! (see what I did there? *drops mic, walks off stage*). My friend in San Diego was a serial dater and swore by this site, but all I wound up with was a supremely awkward guy with horrible body odor who tried to date me even after I moved to Chicago.

As my friend Brian so kindly pointed out – I might be doing it wrong. I’m sure that’s part of it. But on the other hand, why has NOTHING EVER WORKED? Oh, because I’m doing all THAT wrong, too? Gotcha.

Maybe it’s not just online dating that doesn’t work for me, but dating in general.

What is actually real?

Yesterday, the internet exploded when Kristin Cavallari told E! News in an interview that Jay Cutler proposed to her via text message.

And I quote: “It was so silly.” Cavallari told E! News. “I was in the airport, leaving Chicago. We had just spent however many days together and we were texting and somehow it came up, like, ‘Oh, shall we get married?’ We’re like, ‘Yeah, OK.’ And then he sent my ring in the mail. So I actually had my ring sitting at home for a couple of weeks before I put it on.”

So that spawned many, many blogs and comments about how this only further solidifies the fact that Jay Cutler is a douche bag.

Then, KCav took to Twitter to defend her affianced:

ScreenShot005Um, yeah, I hate to break it to you, but they believed headlines based on YOUR quote, my dear. In addition, the excerpts E! selectively took from her interview was to promote the airing of it on March 10th, so of COURSE KCav is going to wax philosophical about how everyone is a liar but her, and the only way you can find that out is to watch her interview with E!

The only reason this woman is famous is because of Laguna Beach and The Hills, produced to the nines to maximize drama and minimize reality. Not that I ever watched either show, but no one’s lives are that…I don’t even know what the word is.

When this type of shit happens, all that ensues is a barrage of trash-talking without any factual information. It’s like, “my mom’s friend’s dog walker’s cousin’s sister-in-law saw John Travolta making out with a dude in a steam room.

This is how Kristin is trying to stay relevant – all publicity is good publicity (even if you’re Lindsay Lohan, apparently), so it does not surprise me that she would tell E! in SOME fashion that Cutler proposed via text and then play the victim when we jump all over him for proposing to her via text.

If she is going to pull this crap, she can’t blame us for getting sucked in – after all, we’re the ones keeping her relevant, not Jay.

 

 

Memories…of the way we were

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This gem of a photo is me (middle) being held up by Amy (left, bandanna  and Lisa (right) the day of my sister’s high school graduation. Nothing says cool 15-year old more than flannel pants, a backwards hat and eyebrows that are in desperate need of a waxing. But I digress.

Yesterday was my high school friend Aimee’s birthday. Even though Aimee is not in this picture, I figured a post about high school would require a photo from the corresponding time period. I wrote the following on her Facebook wall (or timeline now, whatever):

Happy Birthday, I still love you even though I had to kick you out of the something something against boys club that you created in 1997. xoxoxoxox

Now for the back story on that:

Sophomore year of high school was the last year I was forced to take gym. Luckily, I had the class with the lovely Christine, one of Aimee’s closest friends. She was hilarious and we stayed entertained while cursing the physical education requirement that was forced upon us – I mean floor hockey? Really? A golf lesson? Pass. This was also, ironically, the last year I swam competitively and my body has never been the same but that’s cool.

Anyhoodle. One day in gym, a cute boy starts flirting with me. “What’s the big deal?” you’re probably thinking. Well, when I was in high school, this was an event that happened maybe once every other semester – so it was rare. I had never noticed him before, (we’ll call him Lord Voldemort because from that day on he pretty much had my number) but all of a sudden there he was, and very obviously flirting with me. Even Christine thought so, and she had an amazing bullshit meter.

This continued for a couple of weeks and after much deliberation, surveying guys and girls, consulting with Christine and Aimee and gathering all the courage I could muster, I asked him out. Like, the legit 1996-97, “will you go out with me?”

His response? “I would love to, but I’m grounded. But in the meantime, let’s still be wicked good friends.” (We’re from New Hampshire, shut it)

Um, what? Yes, his parents were super strict, but that answer sounded like it was coming from a lying liar who lies.

Lo and behold, the next week he starts going out with someone else – I can’t remember her name. Something like Trashy McIrrelevant.

Being the mature young lady that I was, I immediately stopped speaking to him. I mean, I outright refused. Aimee and Christine were in full support of this and I believe Aimee decided we would form a club called (I shit you not) Feminazi’s across Concord High (FACH), where, as you can imagine, girls ruled and boys drooled.

I am not entirely sure how long the silent treatment lasted, but one day in gym class, Voldy finally apologized for lying to me in-between getting death stares from Christine.

Whatever his excuse was, which I can’t remember and I’m sure was flimsy, I decided to forgive him. Mistake one of many.

FACH became a running joke – I think Aimee even had a boyfriend at the time, but you can’t kick the founder out of their own club, can you?

Fast forward to junior year. Voldy and I had a very dysfunctional friendship. Our high school had block scheduling and we, along with two of his neanderthal friends, had first period free. So for 90 minutes every other day, I had the privilege of sitting with them and letting my crush deepen. Just as I was getting the courage to go for round two, he started dating my one true arch-nemesis (she wasn’t at the time but became so quickly) – Ugly McBitchFace. We had drama together so were friends for like, a hot minute, but then she and Voldy got together and she quickly realized how I felt. Not exactly the solid basis for a friendship – and she was just an awful person. Everyone said so. But anyway.

Voldy and I would fight all the time – I really wish I kept a diary of all that drama because it would be gold for the book.  During one of our fights he told either Aimee or Christine or both that he was tired of my shit, or to cut the shit – something about shit. But what 16 or 17 year old reacts well to getting strung along? Exactly.

(Side note: he and Ugly McBitchface dated on and off for like six years until she cheated on him and he finally got rid of her. Thank god they didn’t get married, although he is married to someone else we went to high school with, but she’s actually cool)

Because our deranged friendship had so many fights, we were also pushed into many forced truces. One particular day, Aimee caught us hugging in the hallway and screamed at me. I think I blushed and laughed and Voldy was very confused, but later that day, I received a note from her officially kicking me out of FACH because I had hugged a boy.

Even though it took a while, I kicked HER out after she got married in 2011. It’s only fair, right?

Voldy and I continued our train ride of dysfunction into 2009 or 2010, I kid you not. It was more of the same – “you’re so amazing, I’ve had a crush on you since high school, we need to date, blah blah blah” followed by exactly zero follow through. It didn’t help that we lived in entirely different states but seriously don’t say that crap to me – it does neither of us any good.

One summer evening after high school graduation, a day I fondly remember as The Day of Randomness, he at least provided me with a little light at the end of a very dark tunnel. I’d just had my heart broken and it was a difficult time for me – crying all the time, morose, depressed. I didn’t want to do anything except work (and I worked with my ex, which made the torture meter go off the charts) and watch TV. On this night, when I wasn’t working, Lisa and I were out for a walk by where her parents live, which is close to Voldy’s parents. He drove by us, saw us walking, and then pulled over. We wound up hanging out with him and his friends for a while that night. And even though nothing happened, it was one of the most NORMAL times we’d ever spent together and gave me a glimmer of hope – not that I’d be with him specifically, but that I’d be okay in general. And despite all the other ridiculous nonsense before AND after that night, I will always be grateful to him for that.

Sex and the City – Season 5 observations

tumblr_mc4gh9nOXl1rvhecao1_500-320x212I am watching Sex and the City (Season 5) right now, and literally think I’ve had this exact conversation with John Doe that Carrie has with Mr. Big when she is in SF for her book signing (with some minor adjustments). Allow me to set the scene – Big is reading excerpts from Carrie’s book, stressing out about his role in the book and how much he’s hurt her in real life. Carrie just wants to get laid. Behold:

Carrie: That was all years ago. Can we please stop talking?

Big: Look, I just don’t want you to get hurt again. (John Doe would never say this – he would say something like, “I don’t want to get bitched out by everyone we know again.”)

Carrie: I won’t, it’s just sex! (“You won’t, it’s my decision!”)

Big: Well, according to this book, it is NOT just sex.

Carrie: What happened in NY was all my fault. I didn’t read the signs. You were unavailable and VERY clear about that. It was all me. Now please – kiss me. Or at least lie on top of me.

Big: Carrie, I think it’s very clear from this book that when it comes to me, you do not have good judgement.

It’s very true, that when it comes to JD, I don’t have good judgement, something he knows and has definitely reminded me of on numerous occasions. We’ll ignore the fact that when the Patriots lost in the AFC Title game a couple of weeks ago he sent word through like eight degrees of separation that he wanted me to ease his pain, so to speak. I did not comply, because I can’t be on this merry-go-round any longer. And also, really? Way to make the effort, dude.

And I’m not actually comparing us to Carrie and Big, but that conversation struck way too close to home.

 

It’s too cold and I’m too old

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Apparently, it’s too cold to go on dates. I was potentially meeting “Gordon Bombay” for date #2 yesterday but then he texted to say it was “too fucking cold” and we should do it another night. I mean, he’s right, it’s like -20 here, but still. “Too cold” is just another way of saying “not interested.”

I think I need to tweak my first date radar – over the summer I had what I thought was an awesome date with a guy who went on to text me but not ask me out again – I finally had to tell him to not text me unless he planned on asking me out again, and lo and behold, I have not heard from him since.

I used to be legitimately afraid of living alone and being alone. I was afraid I would be lonely and hate being by myself and I’d get bored. Well, none of these things have happened and I love it – and still have the same social life that I did when I had two roommates. So being alone is no longer a fear of mine. And I’d rather be alone than deal with this bullshit:

“Oh, I had a good time on our date, but I’m actually dating four other people and well, I’m just not really willing to commit, until you see me “In a relationship with Skanky McHoebag in about a month and then you’ll realize I actually DIDN’T have a good time and it was you not me.”

I will now leave you with the greatest movie scene of all time (as it pertains to this post, at least):