Category Archives: Twenties

Cakes and Categories

One of the hottest women of my acquaintance delivered a cake to me, made for me, just for me this weekend and I feel like the universe is finally getting my voicemails.

Even if I have to watch this girl bring a cake to every one of my coworkers over the next week, this moment still stands in the Top 10 Things I Actually Want to Remember About This Fucking Year.

I asked for her number that same night that she brought the cake in, all in nerves and rambling but received minimal words and mostly smilies via text after and since then I’ve been pretty much all real smiles myself. There are also so many Marie Antoinette quips that I want to make but I don’t even know where to start with them, you all are welcome.

I wish I could stand a little sturdier in my certainty about her being 100% interested, but if you’re like me at all and you’ve placed people into romantic categories, you know that certain categories come with little chance of returned favor, and so when they show up with cakes you can react internally at yourself like this:

It’s a cake you dumb fuck not a date

Jumping to the don’t get your hopes up is such a reflex! As a serial non-dater who hates rejection passionately, I have created categories for self protection, specifically to not find myself reaching for people beyond my reach, if you know what I’m saying.  It’s like universal law, you can’t just go after ANYONE you like, there are rules! Categories! And these categories help me manage expectations.

The categories of crushes are informally ushered in as the following:

The Objects

Don’t think actual objects, think instead the phrase “object of my desire.” Folks in this category are tangible, meaning you touch them, brush shoulders with them, you are in their society. The Objects are people in my groups of friends, coworkers, classmates, neighbors and roommates. You are almost constantly with people in this category and often you show at least a handful of commonalities or shared interests, for example if you’re both around age 26, then drinking would be your main interest and also commonality.  What’s great about crushing on someone in this group? You get to get all tangled up in those feelings all the damn time because if you’re not around this person then you’re at least seeing their witty remarks in group texts. What is sucky? When you get to see them hitting on other people/are asked for help to help them hit on other people.

The Elites

This is basically your highest category, the most unattainable, giving you least reason to exercise any potential hope. These are folks who shouldn’t be seen with you and you wouldn’t expect them to! Call it being rich or just of a higher social class, these folks just feel out of reach and whom you have no intersecting groups or connections with. Those crushes in this group have far superior social graces so they will always be kind to you in passing but who feel more like local celebrities than friends. Elites in my world often times look like a bosses niece or nephew, a trainer contracted to come out to my work for a seminar, an out of town relative to the bride and groom at a wedding, a coworker of a  friend of a friend. In general these people don’t appear too much in my society so seeing them is temporary. What’s great is that those small glimpses leave a lot to the imagination of who they really are and they millions of ways they could fall in love with you, were you a completely different person. What’s sucky is that you might feel that you can’t measure up, that you wore your best skirt but it doesn’t even strike a cord to their level of fashion.

The Runners

This is  a middle ground between the two groups, where people fall a little bit closer to the standards of your particular society however they still are not completely available. Named The Runners because to you, they appear always on the move, always in the lieu of change, and you can’t keep up. Moments with them are fleeting, think of the phrase “sorry, you just missed him.” “sorry, she just stepped out.” That is what this group is like, you are trying to find your footing but the plates spin too fast. Folks in this group are my roommates brother who comes into town for holidays and has a lot of people to catch up with so you take him in in small doses when feasible. It’s your good friends old college friend in the city for the weekend and suddenly you are volunteering as to go to all the group wine tastings, brunches, and drunk mcdonalds trip there are, but then the weekend is over. A symptom of crushing on someone in this group is though it can feel like there is never enough time. You want to impress them, learn about them, but every time they slip back into your world you start over. What’s good about this type of crush is that it saves you from the monotony of your Object crush or Elite crush, and gives you someone to think of and then long for when they leave the next day. The sucky thing is that well they leave just as you’ve made some progress.

My new cake-bringer-gal, whose name is Pearla by the way, is firmly rooted in The Runners category. Though she is on my playing field and becoming more connected to my coworkers she still remains a passing ship for the most part. It’s like going to sit down as someone gets up to leave, that feeling of wishing you had been there two seconds earlier.

Pearla has been my unspoken crush for awhile until I blurted it out to coworkers two months ago and to which they began a silent mission to make me a  more bold version of myself. In truth it is them, my coworkers and their almost annoyingly constant encouragement that made it seem plausible that there could be something between me and someone so engaged in a million other things and seemingly oblivious to me. After much positive feedback from the coworkers, I gave her a drink on the house one time and she brought in pastries for me same day. I then approached her for more conversation that normal and she stayed awhile to stir her coffee a little longer, and  then about two weeks ago she began to ask my coworkers where I was on my nights off.

All that to say that for all the good my categories do at self protection, had I not been encouraged to take a step outside of them, I wouldn’t have this memory of a beautiful girl smiling at me over the top of a cake. I also wouldn’t have a memory of one of the strangest nervous laughs of my life but focusing back on the cake moment, the cake moment!

I do stand by my categories and their usefulness to me specifically but I am glad in this moment that I was pushed out of them. I really do not think that Pearla would have noticed me had I not done some things to get her attention, and I owe it all to my coworkers who see more possibilities than I do and who also love to stir the pot lets be honest, who doesn’t want to see other coworkers get into messy dating scenarios and have things to gossip about for months?

The hardest part might be coming up soon, how do I keep a Runners attention? Our texting has already slipped into some monotony and silence, not having taken a deeper course at all, I may have to step up and formally ask her out, continuing to put myself in her view before she runs off to the next adventure.

If nothing else I have a great memory or two, a little experience with putting myself in someones path, and I might make 2017 the Year of the Cakes! Instead of Year of the Fuckboy,s which was my prior working title, Calories over Asshats? I’ll let you guys know where I land on that, in the meantime, enjoy all the sweets because life is short and romance is all through text anyway!

 

 

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Bitter Town, Population: Me

My Spotify is overwhelmed with a recent binge of angry, “he’s a fucktard” music, with an occasional throw in of “I don’t need him” music, with sporadic clamors of “Im going to go out and get some because I’m way hot!” music. None of it changes much of anything but it’s good to have variety!

I thought at almost 29 years old, I’d be leaning towards a more mature set of men, of people in general!

But what if the immature one is me?

Eleven am on a Saturday morning I wake up and craft a plan to seduce a boy 7 hours after sleeping with another.

The “another” is The Dancer, and my date with him the night before was magical. If magic is intrigue with myself for why I stayed on the date and then had sex with him. Maybe I was put under a spell, or better yet a curse with fire and a stone and pieces of hair!

I named him The Dancer because we met while dancing at a club, our eyes lock across a crowded room (six feet away) and me leaving the guy I was dancing with to go to him (my friends had been trying to get him away from me anyway). Love and convenience was in the air!

A week from our first “eye lock” (and dance floor make out session) our now first date comes to a blurry end at 4 am as he made a last grab for my breasts before stumbling into a lyft outside my parents house. Modern romance.

Putting clothes back on and room to order, I pass out and wake up that Saturday morning thinking of Boy Next Door and the limited time I have to make something happen with him before he moves out.

I put on three different lotions but not perfume because I want to smell like a fucking garden exploded but not like I expect to see anyone.

My outfit that took me an hour to put together was the perfect blend  of “I don’t give a shit” and “Yes, I have always been this sexy.”

I take a seat in a comfy chair, kick my legs out relaxed onto the arm of the other sofa, and lie in wait, looking as casual as one can look when trying way too hard to sleep with someone.

Casual reminder, I have literally just slept with someone.

This all feels minor in comparison to what I did the previous morning.

Boy Next Door was mentioning wanting a party to happen, so I made one up.

Yes I am now the patheticness of Season One Ted Mosby (if you haven’t watched How I Met Your Mother by now, there’s no hope for you) throwing three parties in a row in hopes Robin would show.

I’ve always despised that episode interestingly enough. I always wondered how someone could put their friends through that just for the prospect of someone.

Everything has come full circle and I do understand it now and I did contemplate blackmailing my friends into ditching their other plans to come to this party that doesn’t exist, and yes my end goal for that party was me and Boy Next Doors drunk hook up.

So back to the “casual” allure of me and my three scented lotions, eleven am has turned into midnight ( I did not stay there on the couch waiting for him, I went out and did things OKAY) when finally he comes home.

As he comes towards me my whole body faces him, our eyes meet and we begin to speak as we slowly walk towards each other, and that’s when he says it:

“Where’s Keith?”

My brothers name.

As he walks on past me towards my brothers room and as I hear the two of them laugh about things unrelated to me, I stomp back into my own room to pout myself to sleep.

Since that anti-climactic Saturday, The Dancer has stopped all contact with and blown off our plans for our second date and Boy Next Door is going forward with all plans to move out and not hook up with me.

In an effort to find out why my life is this way, I decided to ask myself a series of questions as if I were on a game show, about to win a car or a really expensive set of plates, and here’s what I got

Game Show Host: Why did you go out with the Dancer?

Me: It seemed like we clicked, got along, thought the same things were funny

GSH: Did you want to date him?

M: Well uh maybe like if things were-

GSH: Why didn’t you want to date him? Is he not good enough for you?

M: No uh of course not I was just not sure-

GSH: So there is someone else!!!!??

M: Well no err like I mean I’m not dating anyone at all so

GSH: So you’re saying you’re dumping The Dancer for no one, no one at all

M: Uh well technically yes but

GSH: Well maybe if you had acted a little more interested I would have texted

M: Uh wait

GSH: No I mean HE, HE would have texted

M: Omg

GSH: no no

M: fucking seriously

GSH: listen-

This is about as far as I got. Maybe game shows aren’t the way to self actualize, so I looked at the “G” word,

Guilt.

I felt guilty in my lyft on my way to meet the Dancer for our date. My lyft driver had put on this instrumental music which started to fuck with me, and got me thinking, which is never a good idea before a first date.

I had texted Boy Next Door an hour before getting into this lyft, to let him know:

“everyone is busy so no party tomorrow night :/

Leaving out of course that there had been no party to begin with.

Sitting in this lyft that was now starting in on the rythyms of the flute, I got real sad that he wasn’t even going to text back to say “bummer” or “ok” and that’s when I started thinking about turning back.

I mean maybe this date isn’t such a good idea because I’m clearly too upset over the lack of reply about a party I lied about in the first place?

But I didn’t turn back, I knew Boy Next Door would be out of the house soon and I would be able to focus on the Dancer then. Why should I lose out on such a great guy?

During an Oreo binge last night, I realized something – as we all do because oreos are great carriers of wisdom – maybe the Dancer didn’t end up being a great guy, but maybe also I’m not such a great girl?

I’ve done a fair share of lying and manipulating this week and maybe that’s what I’m attracting….

I am 100% still bitter and jaded and listening to songs about the heart pangs of sleeping with fuck boys, but I do shed some light on my own behavior, my own responsibility, maybe I don’t always get to play the wronged and wounded victim?

Maybe I need to own that I’ve also got a manipulative bitch in me who wants what she wants and is pissed when she doesn’t get it.

Maybe I should also let her have more Oreos? I mean if I’m not going to let her jump people’s bones, I better give her something.

Till next time my friends, don’t fuck with fuck boys but when you do make sure you got your Spotify playlist ready!

I’m Awake

While you stay sleeping.

Is the start of my most recent sad/pathetic poem I wrote, because I am nothing if not a stereotype.
Some other recent pieces of work have titles such as:

“The Walls that Say Nothing”
“That Night”
To call it cringe worthy would be an understatement.
Funny that my poems mention nothing about almost peeing in my neighbors bushes, which is the true highlight of the whole thing.

Ladies and Gentlemen, I have fallen for The Boy Next Door.

No, but like literally his door is right next to mine and he sleeps feet away in the room next to mine.

I didn’t see it coming and had you told me that one day I’d wake up, devestated that he doesn’t want to discuss the foundation of our blossoming relationship, I would have LAUGHED and told you that you were the dumbest shit person alive.

Two weeks ago at a packed bar one night me and Boy Next Door have the most PG drunk hookup you’ve ever been bored enough to consider.

Like we’re talking long hugs and hand holding, which was  hotter than a drunk and  sweaty make out sesh, yes it’s baffling.
Then there’s me the next day, waking up with all the feels for a boy that I think I ignored the day before. Because i was eating?

We cross paths for the first time since “the night” and I watch myself  in slow motion putting my hand on his shoulder and saying “hey” as sultry as I know how.

Because it’s totally mutual right? I mean he hugged me,  held hands with me and was all about me, so…….

It’s like I’ve learned nothing from my own god damn blog.

In short, there was nothing returned and it was never spoke of again.  A Very Short Tale of Two People Who Never Had Sex. The End!

That night I couldn’t sleep a wink. Every peaceful YouTube video of harps and piano chords could not drown out the overwhelming anger I had at the person lying feet away.

I was also pretty angry with myself truthfully. To become such an idiot in such a short amount of time, I basically realized he was alive two days ago, how about we calm down.

The next night I decided to come at my inability to sleep with a new strategy. Sleeping pills and and cough syrup usually lend me down the road to obscure and terrifying nightmares, so I went with beer.

Arrived at a bar and requested  ever so daintily “whatever has the most alcohol”
and drank whatever she gave me pretty damn fast.

I am at a liquor store not even an hour and a half later picking up the biggest bottle of the highest percentage IPA there is in the store, it’s time to stop fucking around.

My new plan is to chug it in my car outside my house, because I can’t let Boy Next Door see me openly binge drinking, he’ll want to drink with me because we’re just two bros, having a cold one.
Hmm large beer, no bottle opener. I try and fail and now have two forever scars on my right index finger.

Buy a bottle opener because none of my friends are awake or helpful or as panicked about sleep as me, and get into my car and then drive it just down the block a little bit to comfortably sit in the dark next to a not too lit up neighbors house, thinking here we go I’ll just get to enjoy my beer and listen to some tunes.

What I didn’t know was how soon into this I’d have to pee.
Imagine being so determined that you have to pound a beer in order to sleep, but also  that your bladder is equally as determined not to drown. This is a battle of wills!

 

Now in reality I have peed in public probably five times. I’ve peed outside a bar at 3am, the front lawn of my college, a back alley and what my hazy memory tells me was the side of a hookah shop.

Needless to say I’m no stranger to it, but on a quiet residential? I’m technically not even drunk yet and never peed outside while stil in full reign of my mental faculties. I like to think that if I was trying to recall peeing somewhere in the open, that at least I could claim having very little memory of it. Oh the parking lot of jack in the box! That was the other one.

So anyways I circle some neighbors bushes for two minutes before realizing that I’ am way too sober for this, drive my car back down the street up to the house, chugged  the remaining 3/4 of the beer and ran.

When I was unlocking the front door, in the most pain of life, I remember being grateful that all the appeal that he had had for me was dead probably  the second he had walked back to his room that night, because me peeing my pants on our porch was only going to help solidify the fact that we’d never have sex in this lifetime.

Made it into the house, peed for an abnormally long period of time, tiptoed to my room and passed out probably from the exhilaration of being the biggest “badass” ever, if the term badass has changed over the years,  and now means “drinks alone in cars” then yes I am a poster child of that.

One positive that has come out of this, I was catalyzed to officially end things with One Night Stand Guy, who I’ve slept with a handful of times over the past few months while wishing on stars that I could develop feelings for him, but then failing  to remember to text him back for the sixth time that week.

Part of ending things with him last week was that  I didn’t want to be a shitty person and string him along anymore, since now I was feeling strung along and equally shitty.

The other reason is simply this: I could not  make feelings happen by sheer will of wanting them to.

In the span of one night I had now uncontrollable infatuation for Boy Next Door, yet I’ve been hoping crazy attraction for One Night Stand guy would one day just appear because he is cute and smart and super into me.

This for me was more of a you-can’t-control-who-you-are-attracted-to-even-though-it-would-be-way-fucking-easier-kind of lesson. And it’s annoying.

I will now return to the poem I was writing about soap and crying trees, wish me luck!

fantasy cloud

I have been in deep mourning all afternoon (drinking lots of wine, listening to some of Miguel’s softer songs) over a boy, but yes just like every story I ever tell he has minimal idea who I am and conversations we’ve had are mostly pleasantries.

Basically I’m the worst that I subject people to stories about what goes on in my mind with these strangers, but if you do feel like being subjected then remember Hudson from my last post? He was a crush potential that was forming after my online date went flat.

Yesterday Hudson arrived at my work after about three weeks of being gone. Gone on a trip? I have no idea but he hasn’t been there. Naturally me being me I presumed our reunion would come with an explanation of his absence, a heartfelt greeting, and the resuming of our natural chat. Instead he ignored me, and got everything he needed as quickly as possible and left.

My mind formed several conclusions, starting out extreme and ending with acceptance. He hates me. He literally loathes me. He hasn’t come in in three weeks specifically to avoid me. He figured out that I liked him and now he doesn’t want to talk to me. He doesn’t care about not seeing me.

Or maybe he isn’t as interested in me as I thought he was.

BINGO.

The fall out of hypothetical relationships is the worst because only you yourself knows that you’re heartbroken, and how do you talk to your friends about a love that blossomed in your mind but only in your mind?

My roommate consequently same time is going through actual stuff with her ex-boyfriend. Should she cut the ties? Should she keep a friends with benefits thing going? Should she see other people?

Meanwhile my moral dilemma looks more like; Why doesn’t he come in anymore? Does he like my coworker more than me? Why didn’t he wave back at me?

Huge difference in the actuality of actual things happening in her scenario versus what I perceive to be taking place in mine.

Even look at the words used for the roommates boy problem. I used the word “should” because there will be a decision or action of some kind, where as with my problem I use the word “why” which dictates I’m simply throwing out questions to the wind. Asking questions to myself because there will be no decision about them, no plan of action. Hudson and I will continue to make pleasantries for awhile to come, while yet my mind accumulates more and more “why”‘s about our very basic customer service relationship.

God I sound crazy.

Lately I’ve really been missing the mark with boys, like more than usual. Everything I’ve assumed, I’ve been wrong about.

Take a newer crush that I took on in the almost month long period that Hudson was absent. This crush was a barista, not the most attractive ever but he did talk to me and was sweet and seemed interested, and I very quickly made that coffee shop a regular part of my after work routine.

Two things I assumed: He was single and that him giving me a free coffee that one time meant something.

Cut to me at his coffee shop the following week spotting him at a small table in the back, holding hands and talking with his girlfriend over a cup of coffee, which he probably gave her for free also.

At this point now I’ve lost the barista (who I never had) and I have no Hudson, and then top it off with the coworker I thought had a crush on me, quits for a new job, and first thing he does is text the most annoying female at my work. Clearly I know nothing about anything.

My realization in the midst of this is that I have no grasp on when people actually have feelings for others because I fantasize that there are feelings everywhere and between everyone. How do you know if feelings are actually there and not just in your imagination?

What are relationships in reality even like? In my reality nothing happens,which is the part I can’t stand. Do any other dreamers or INFPs relate to this? I feel like I’m just now poking my head out of my cloud for a brief second and looking around, just curious before I disappear back into fantasy land. If someone walks past me as I stand next to the door of my cloud – which is half open because I’m ready to run back inside it – maybe I’ll ask, maybe I’ll ask about relationships.

A person does walk by and I dip into my question about relationships. I’m scared the person will tell me I have to ask someone out, and I’m even more terrified they’ll give me a list of things I have to do to get a guy. The person begins to get a little long winded so I’m looking down the hallway of my cloud door looking for another person to ask or at least interrupt this one.

As I’m forced to listen to this person because no one else is walking by to save me, and I’m not quite ready to disappear back into my cloud with out at least getting some sort of vague answer, I realize everything this person has been talking about is real. Like stuff the person and their partner talk about or do or say or have done or have said. They actually did things.

It all sounds real and I’m not sure I even like it because it sounds like there can be like conflict or something? And everything isn’t a rainbow? I feel unsure still as I thank the person and step back inside my cloud of fantasy and idealism where it is safe, but I sort of hope I venture out again sometime.

the date that was the other date

I apparently have a pattern, in that in my hope to break my almost two year non voluntary sabbatical from dating, I actually went on the same date I did almost two years ago.

On my 2015 date last week, I learned pretty much right away that much like my 2013 date, he grew up on the east coast and was in a specific branch of the military.

What are the odds of this? oh are the odds high? What about the evens?

P.S. 2015 date I met on the same dating site I’ve been using as of late. You’d think the profile would have tipped me off that I was going on the same date but sometimes I get very caught up in the detailed descriptions of how much they love their dog.

Ok so anyways here is how my 2015 and 2013 date matched up:

– grew up on east coast
– not super great childhoods
– did some college
– enlisted in early 20’s
– went into air force
– traveled a lot
– ready to settle down now

Naturally the dates both fell into similar rhythms. The hug with both of them in the beginning is always missed, or goes terribly wrong.

Also both of them are meeting up with me for a date around the time that a close sibling of theirs is getting married or about to be married. Panic much?

Both enjoy telling a few very long stories. 2015 tells me about the longest road trip he has ever been on in agonizing detail but then leaves out a few parts and says he wants to spare me the little details. Well what have you been sharing over the last 15 minutes, the medium sized ones? 2013 had given me a similar in time length story about his schooling growing up (I didn’t get that one either) but said nothing about sparing me details, ugh.

As I realized that I was on the same date as the 2013 one I also realized that I was on a date with my sisters husband.

It hit me when I was making my mental checklist of all the things similar about my 2013 date to this one (and nodding a lot while 2015 told me about how he thought he was going to run out of gas this one time on the road trip, spoilers: he didn’t) that that same checklist could be applied to my sisters husband.

My sisters husband Jake, who also grew up on the east coast actually neighbored the states in which 2013 and 2015 lived, and Jake also moved enlisted, and then after traveling decided he wanted to settle down – hence marriage and now on baby #2 with my sister.

I texted my sister to tell her that my last two dates in two years have been with military guys who grew up on the east coast and my sister sent me back an “lol” and then proceeded texting me a story about how when my nephew touches her face he says “no” and she thinks he is saying “nose” but he is pointing at her mouth. Kill me softly, do you not see I’m dating versions of that kids dad?

I guess I shouldn’t say dating because technically 2013 guy got on a plane and went back to the east coast (I blogged about him during this time but have no idea what I had named him..Wedding guy maybe? I’m too lazy to look) maybe an hour after our date, and 2015 said he did want to hang out again and that we would “sort it out” but I haven’t heard from him in several days so maybe he is sorting out his plane ticket also, I hear the east coast is a popular place to run away from first dates!

Don’t be sad for me because I have a new crush! A customer crush! A guy who wears black v-necks and whose dream is to be in a rock band and who probably wouldn’t touch the military if you paid him, unless he was in a military rock band.

He gets his coffee black and his name is Hudson and he asked me if I had a brother the other day so things are totally starting, you know? Wish me luck!

Presidents Day and my Whirlwind Romance

Holidays such as Presidents day and events such as Free Communication Weekend on any dating site, are terrible pairings and it’s a terrible coincidence that both should occur together though at the same time brilliant on behalf of the dating site.

Am I the only one who gets lonely on random holidays? The office is closed and you’re bored as fuck.

You know you have stuff you should get done still, so you attempt to work from home while in your pajamas, but then as you’re looking for any possible distraction to eliminate doing any kind of real work in your pajamas, you remember that commercial that said Eharmony was doing a free communication weekend special and it ends at midnight tonight.

I loathe myself and all my holiday decisions.

I basically signed up for one free day and then texted half the people I know, that I had done so. Why? So someone could talk me out of it? Doubtful, since I was putting my picture up and cropping it in a flattering way at the time.

After an hour of being subscribed but not really subscribed, I begin to give way to impatience. It’s been over an hour and I only have until midnight to meet someone. This is my only chance ever! Not dramatic at all.

So I began “smiling” at my “matches” – that’s Eharmony for clicking a button on someone else’s profiles and saying hey I noticed you a little, and matches refer to the people that Eharmony found you to be compatible with based upon the personality questionnaire you both took.

I was three hours deep into waiting for something when finally entered Marcus.

He smiled at me (clicked the smilie face button on my profile) and wanted to get to know me (started a scripted back and forth exchange of information written by the site) and seemed really sweet (allowed the exchange of information to continue) and was everything I wanted him to be (he continued to let the prompt ask me questions).

I was smitten, I was hooked. How amazing that I just happened to do this today!

I loved everything on his profile. Did I mention that I couldn’t see his picture? Or any picture of him? Oh I didn’t mention that?

I wasn’t a technical real member of Eharmony and couldn’t see my matches pictures nor could they see mine (pretty sure) so I had to go off of what they wrote about themselves or where they claimed to be employed.

I was in love with a profile and a prompted discussion.

I was excited as anything as the site continued to prompt us to ask eachother about 5 things we can’t stand, our most ideal careers, how we would act at a party – oh the romance!

When it was at last all nearing to a close, Eharmony wouldn’t even let me message Marcus because I wasn’t subscribed. They did not approve of our love.

So he sneakily put his email into a prompted description question. HA!

The email piece happened just before midnight that night. The anxiety of the free communication ending at exactly midnight (highly unlikely) led me to panic that Marcus and I would not be able to exchange communication once the clock struck twelve.

It’s kind of like a modern day Cinderella story if you think about it. The clock struck twelve and that was it! Thank god she left that slipper behind.

I imagined in my half hour of stress leading up to midnight that our story was the same and that if nothing was left behind then we would be forever to part and never to find one another. We would spend decades searching and eventually I would cave and take out a personal loan to pay for the monthly charges so I could subscribe to the site, but by the time I subscribed it would be for naught because he would have already taken the money he used to spend on his monthly Eharmony fees, and use them instead to hire a private detective to find me.

I suppose this doesn’t exactly mirror the tragedy that would have been Cinderella not leaving the slipper but all in all how would that have been right?

Anyways so Marcus and I emailed the next day, very minimally because I was running from job to job.

All that day however I felt a bounce in my step. Twice I caught myself before revealing to strangers or coworkers that I was “talking to someone.”

I mean we had exchanged some very basic pleasantries about how our days were going and had yet to even discuss the exchanging of phone numbers, so you’re wondering how I jumped so far ahead and I don’t really have an answer for you.

In talking to one of my roommates about my new found love I threw out my curiosity of if Marcus had a facebook or not.

An hour or so later my roommate texted me that Marcus did not have a Facebook but he did have a Linkedin.

What happens next is devastating. Prepare yourself.

My roommate then texted me the screen shot of Marcus’s Linkedin account with his picture. Same last name, place of employment, age, etc.

I was leaving the parking lot of my work at this time and I can’t remember what any of my thoughts were when I received the picture but I do remember audibly half crying out “NOOO”

Marcus’s face was buried in fat.

Like a lot of it.

He looked at least 10 years older than his claimed age, and it looked like the only passions and hobbies he really pursued were eating.

Instantly furious with my roommate for exposing me to the truth and instantly grateful that he did.

Convinced for about a day and a half that Marcus and I were soul mates, this was a crushing blow.

I have learned my lesson (probably) about online dating the cheap/free way. Pretty much if you want results you better pay up, otherwise you’re simply flying blind.

I will say that I really did like Eharmony though and if I ever become a millionaire I will immediately subscribe and find a new Marcus who eats a normal amount and we will probably live in bliss, very similar to Cinderella, and or Sleeping Beauty once she wakes up.

why 2014 was so wonderful despite having zero dates

If 2014 had a hand, I would shake it. Probably too enthusiastically, while misty eyed with gratitude.

2014 would probably try to pretend they had an errand to run or an appointment they had to get to, to rid themselves of the outpouring of all my affection, but I can’t help myself. 2014 I love you!

It won’t make sense to you I’m sure, I had not one date for the whole year. Not ONE. What?

But seriously, who gives a fuck? This year has been sensational. Yes I lived with my parents and than a stripper but now I live with my best friends and no strippers!

A handful of weeks before 2014 was over, the nonprofit I’ve been working part-time for asked me to go full time with them. I have loved the work I’ve been doing with them for the past year and I think the contentment I felt with being a part of their team has overridden some of the more negative things of this year, like moving out my belongings at night while my stripper roommate was out, well stripping.

In 2014 I discovered I was an infp through the myers-briggs personality test and then through learning about my infp-ness I have found all my crazy and misunderstood, understood!I no longer blame myself for not thinking the way others do, especially when it comes to romance. I also readily accept that I oftentimes prefer the pretend relationships that go on in my head over the real ones – is that zero date thing making more sense now?

Thinking back on everything though, it blows my mind how that terrible job I took in 2013 that moved me back here led me to my current job. It blows my mind that it took living with a stripper to force me to move in with one of my best friends and my ex, and now I couldn’t imagine anything I wanted more. Well besides a cat, I really want a cat.

2014 just makes me feel lucky. Like I’m the prettiest girl in the ballroom and Mr. Darcy noticed me lucky.

The last date I was on was that guy from the wedding, do you remember? He lives on the east coast now. He made the decision to go there minutes after our date ended. He was on a plane by that evening. I hear he has a beard now.

I want to tell 2014 again how much I love them but I fear they are going to begin blocking my calls. I have enjoyed our time spent together and I just hope they know that.

(2014 you my main bisch)