Tuesday, December 25, 2012


This is getting ridiculous.

Dude18900: Your gorgeous... wanna chat?
                     Ok your sexy hot and gorgeous... I do have pics and I am cute... would love to chat hun.
                     Sooo cuteee.
                     Ok so your sexy as heck... care to chat?

My response: *you're.

I am going to start adding these up.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012


I fully intend this to be a quick post just to update, but I obviously tend to be long-winded, so hopefully if I run lengthy I can break it up with funny pictures and you'll forgive me.

I definitely have one thing to thank Thing Two for: during finals week I usually stress eat anything I can dip in ranch, but the burning annoyance I still harbor actually has made me lose weight. So, the revelation of your dickish actions has actually made me hotter. Thanks.

I honestly feel that 1) My reaction to this situation could have been reduced, somewhat, if I had only dated more frequently in my life instead of sitting around waiting for "special" guys who turn out only to be especially good at disguising the fact that they're kind of jerks. And

2) That distance has made this more difficult to process. I am unable to do the standard ex-girlfriend-finds-out-you-dated-someone-immediately-after-her crap, like slashing his tires, or junk-punching him in front of his new girlfriend.

Although it might still be worth the plane ticket for that.

However I've had my little tantrum and now I feel better and also can fit into my skinny jeans. My friend sent me this which pretty much summed it up perfectly:

P.S. I hope you got syphilis for your birthday.

So I have finally gotten my college career out of the way, and will be graduating this weekend. This means it's time to get back into the World O' Dating.

I'm still in contact with Skinny Guy and Scientist Guy, both of whom are eager to take me for a post-college drink. I really enjoy text-talking to both of them, but texting can only go so far.

Pretty far, for me (I text with love), but still...

Good Personality Guy invited me to his book signing tomorrow--oh yeah, did I forget to mention? He writes fucking books. Can I seriously marry this guy and live a sexless lifestyle ogling the hot Latin pool boy and adopting Chinese babies?

I was kind of figuring on that anyway... but this way, I'd get tax breaks.

Band Hair Guy texted me again, like forever after the last I'd heard from him, telling me he had been busy, etc. I answered back and I believe it was a full day before I got a response. Band Hair Guy out. I'm too needy for that. If you don't text back within thirty seconds I naturally assume you're having sex with someone else.

There's been a rush on me to move out of my lovely, cat-friendly home, so I will be moving back across the state as of next week. This throws a bit of a wrench into my dating plans.

I was contacted by an actually cute guy on OKC who seemed really nice, so I regretfully informed him, that while he was attractive, etc, I would be leaving shortly. He was totally okay with that and asked me what I look for, sexually, in a guy, so I don't really visualize any white picket fences at the end of that meeting.

Interested in my prospects and with a vague hope of continuing my blog with less whining and more dating/humorous anecdotes, I joined Plenty of Fish.

Guess what? POF is for hook ups.

There might be one or two poor, foolish souls (like myself) out there who think that, hey, maybe they'll find someone nice and hit it off with them via POF, but pretty much everyone else is thinking, how can I show off my abs to the best advantage in this grainy bathroom mirror shot?

Gonorrhea? That's a French-ass name!

But here is my favorite--one of my friends informed me that a man had sent her a rather inappropriate message. I happened to get the same message only a day later--no time wasted here. This is how it went down:

"NOT sure if this is u or not... BUT if u never ask, then u never know right? lol so... i dont wanna get laid, dont wanna get head... BUT what do u thing about this offer? i prefer the company of a more mature woman and it seems like u have ur stuff together. i have a bucket list thing im curious about n wanna ask ya... how is this for something new? i only ask cause im very unselfish, giving, and well... would u b up for a 1x only wonderful and multi-orgasmic oral only time?"


Understand that this continues, and when I finally deciphered what the hell he was trying to say, it sort of deteriorated into something from the novels I like to read in bed over a long weekend. "Waves of pleasure" and whatnot.

"Um, it's just my back massager! Don't open the door!"

He clearly used a (very poorly constructed) template to send out this charming invitation to lots of females, such as myself and my friend, and when I got over deciding whether or not I found "mature" insulting, I responded:

"I would normally be totally down for this, but I know that my friend got this exact same message, and now I just. don't. feel. special."

Lucky me, I got an answer--a personalized answer!

"lol u have to knock on a few doors b4 u get an answer... u know what i mean? she must b as attractive as u r tho cause i def prefer the quality of a woman... looks and whats in her profile... as oppossed to quantity. then if ud like to experience this... say yes to my offer b4 she does. i am only lookin to find one woman to do this with... and hope she is not a psycho or a stalker... do u fit that bill?"

Then he went on to describe, in great detail and shorthand, his excellent abilities, which I will not relate because my mother reads this blog and I am already regretting the back massager joke.

I saw my out and a way to avoid getting murdered by this 40 year old trucker-hat wearing man who uses "b4," and answered that unfortunately, I am both a psycho and a stalker, so I just didn't see it working out.

He messaged me later asking if I'd consider doing headshots (That's code for naked!) and I just told him nope.

Oh, yeah. Shoot me all over my head.

So while I've gotten 53 messages in, what, two days? and most are "hi your cute u wanna meet?" there actually are two that I answered, who are both attractive and can take the time to type three letters out into a sentence.

Bonus, one looks like TJ Thyne's more ripped brother.


And the other one looks like he could beat up TJ Thyne's ripped brother.

With that--OH SHIT--

I just realized I forgot to answer a text from Quippy Guy, who has made almost no impact on me other than he's kind of funny, asking to meet tomorrow. Now I'm ignoring texts from guys asking for dates?

                        ...Does this make me a gangster?

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Quick Update: Heartsies

I would just like to say that you guys have been awesome. I really did not anticipate how much comfort I would get from everyone. And you're all right--he's a dick. Thank you for acknowledging that and adding your own colorful terminology.

Upon further consideration, I am even more certain that he is a dick. 

Evidence (verified by e-mails):

October 1st--Initial breakup. Boo. Sad girl MeMe. Yet, 'twas for the best, no?

October 19th--Discussion about getting back together. Declaration of devotion. Actual quotes:

"I highly doubt I'll be dating anytime soon. I can't even think of being with anyone but you. I might have to make some new friends so that I have someone to hang out with other than THIS GUY (ugh) or THE OTHER ONE (ugh), but dating...I don't think so."

"I would love to have the chance to prove that I'm still crazy about you. I am."

"There's something potentially amazing here. I think we just have to get to a point where we can trust each other, and know that we won't lose each other again."

Oh good. I was just getting to that point right around---

Halloween: picture post of new chick who was clearly into him. Not sure of exact date, but safe to say October 31st at latest (suspicion of 27th or 28th as the 31st was a Wednesday).

My first blog post: November 2nd. 

He also mentioned he had met her on OKC. So for this to work out, he would have had to have had an ad out well before my blog began. Also possibly even earlier than I'd like to consider, because to me meeting someone at a Halloween party isn't a first date kind of thing.

But I won't read too much into that one. It makes my brain (ego) way too bruised.

November 6th: E-mail fight about the blog.

So theoretically at some point between the 2nd and the 6th he showed her my blog. Why he thought that was a good idea, I don't know. But I'm not taking blame for that one.

Don't show your date the blog your ex wrote about you, and then email your ex to stop writing mean things.

 Or... OR... email her something really nice and hope she adds what a great ex boyfriend you are? DEVIOUS! You crafty bastard.

Either way, I'm definitely realizing I got screwed here. Fed a lot of lines during a relationship, made to feel special, treated really well at first... and all of that tided me over, while I was frustrated and lonely, and I felt obligated to hang around because he had been so nice in the beginning, after all, so why was I being such a needy biatch?

 Annnnnd any potential guilt over blogging on my dates has dissipated.

What I have learned from this unfortunate experience:

1) Nice guys may seem really nice, but they may not be. They may be very nice at first and cash in on that niceness later, when they're being utter douchebags and gaslighting you. Don't be fooled. If you're not happy, it's not your "fault." If you're not happy, then something just isn't working.

2) Unfortunately this does not seem to be the case with jerks, wherein they seem really jerky, but actually they're just misunderstood and really rescue old ladies from purse jackers and have a three-legged dog and suddenly your life is a Nicholas Sparks novel. They may seem like a jerk but they are probably just a huge fucking jerk. 

3) Also, this happens to lots of people. Like, tons. I've commiserated with quite a few of you since this event, and now I realize that people are actually awful, and honestly, I could have had it much worse. But I am reminded why I avoid dating. And friendships. And human beings in general.

My cats will never leave me.

Note: I am certainly not turning into a man-hater now.

Well, maybe temporarily. Once a month it's to be expected anyway; this just piggybacks on the Red Days.

I have also realized that I have some excellent guy friends out there who really are those nice guys that stay nice forever. And I am much more appreciative of them and all their goodness, and I am very happy for their ladies or future ladies.

So, in conclusion, the girl things are done--the call your best friend, call your mom, cry in the shower things--and I feel better. Better, largely, because I did the maths and I was clearly the injured party here so don't GIVE me that crap about how you're just doing what I was doing. I ain't no saint but I WIN THIS ONE SUCKER.


Better because I know that there are nice boys and kind men out there....

...and I'll be very happy to have them come visit me in my house full of stray cats, because right now, that's looking like the best option here.

And yet...

I have had some very interested parties eagerly awaiting the end of my finals, that they may buy me a beer and celebrate with me.

Why waste free drinks?

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

The Ex: A very long rant.

  Where to begin, where to begin...

   It seems so pathetic to return to ex-boyfriend drama when this is a blog about dating, meeting new people, coming out of my shell. But it's so hard for a girl who's already crippled by so much to keep moving forward when they just KEEP DRAGGING ME BACK.

   And while this post won't be funny or witty, or probably very optimistic, 1) it will make me feel better and 2) it's important to note when you start to think, 'where the hell did this girl get so many issues from?'

   Oh, if you only knew the half of it, folks.

   So here's the truncated story.Truce is off. I desperately hoped to preserve something between us, because I thought there was something good there, but I was wrong. As per usual.

   It does seem to be the same trend with my men. Dammit! I try so hard. Every girl's got some Daddy Issues  chewing on her heels, so I weigh the factors. I do my research. I try to find the nice balance between logic and emotion. And yet, I keep getting screwed by men who love me hard and fast, and then go their merry way.

   And I don't mean in the bedroom, because, well...

   When I started this blog, I was trying to get over a broken heart. As I said previously, my heart has never really been broken before. I didn't quite know what to do with it. This has been both fun and educational, as I had hoped. A way to be less shy. A way to learn to meet people, and to become comfortable with myself and what I have to offer. A way to get free liquor. Something to write about.

   Not once have I made any claims that I'm looking for something major. I'm pretty sure you can quote me on that. Maybe I was, in a way, hoping a little to make Thing Two jealous. Miss me, even. Make him realize what he had done wrong.

   Why I cared that much about a guy who, upon our break-up, mailed me a card that said "hang in there" is beyond me at this point.

   Almost immediately that wish came true. I received an e-mail from Thing Two apologizing. He said he had just been thinking about me, and happened to re-read our break-up conversation e-mails. You know, the ones where he starts out telling me he misses me, and that maybe we broke up for the wrong reasons, and that I'm always going to be his dream girl... and end with him suggesting I take Paxil. The ones where he tells me I "have a high level of need" and it's "exhausting." That it "takes work, emotionally, to be with me."

   This, if I never mentioned, was a long distance relationship. Yes, I have a level of need. Send me a fucking. Text. Message. How hard is that?

Aren't you thinking of me? 

 Oh, God. And when I send you a picture of my boobs, don't just say, "cool, thanks." Nothing makes a girl feel less attractive than her boyfriend's total lack of interest in her boobs. Especially when this comes with a history of criticizing my sexual abilities and turning me down when I want sex. That doesn't at all make me violently insecure. Not at all.

   So he apologized. It was a really beautiful apology too. It literally said all the things I needed to hear--the stuff, hey, that might have kept me from BEING such a needy psycho bitch, had it been mentioned at some point during our last moments. But better late than never.

   He realized he was an asshole. He realized he said the wrong things. He reminded me it's okay to be who I am, and yes, he HAD been trying to change me, despite me being very clear about it early in the relationship that being forced to change is one of my bigger fears.

   It felt... amazing.

   There was no way such a timely e-mail could hit my box, with specifications so exact, unless he had read this blog. And I mentioned that.

   He lied. He said he had no knowledge of a blog.

 "Blog." Blog is a funny word. So is "tequila..." Teeheeeeeehee. *Drinks*

   Now, I know some of you don't know me that well. Or at all. But don't lie to me. Lying to me is the worst thing you can do. Because I know you're lying. Or I will find out you're lying. I'm not stupid.

   With that, the warm glow was over because I knew what it was. An ass kiss. A Please Stop Writing About Me, Ass Kiss.

Hmm... Which douche should I skewer today?

   We fought. Probably for the first real time, although every god damn time I opened my mouth he accused me of fighting with him, to my mind we actually only had a few fights. This was a good one. Actually, kind of felt good to finally show a little temper after constantly being told I had one.

   However, after the anger wore off, I thought about it. He had treated me well. We had been friends. I missed talking to him. That wasn't a door I wanted shut. Maybe we wouldn't date again, but I wasn't ready to let it all go.

   So I apologized. I didn't write about him again.


   Picking up where our story left off mid October, we stayed friends... ish. I'm really not sure where the line is, to be honest. I've never stayed friends with an ex. I tried to not text too much, to be cool but friendly. It was... nice. I have been feeling better about myself since getting out there and dating, since getting such nice feedback from everyone about my writing (check "dying penniless" off my list!), and realized that, although things were nice, he and I were not right for each other.

   No matter how many times someone tells you they love you for who you are, if they try to change you, they do not. And I deserve someone who does.

   And thank God I realized this before the plans to move out there to live with him took effect. About two weeks before we broke up, when shit got real and we started looking for apartments, I had started to panic. Honestly, I wasn't that sure that he loved me enough for me to give up my entire life and move to California. I was giving up everything for someone who seems lackluster at best. So I got needy. I demanded attention. I demanded reassurance.


   It didn't come. If I had gotten that, I would be apartment hunting right now. I may be dumb, but I'm not trapping myself across the entire fricking country with no money and no friends for a man who promises that he loves me the best of everything, but who I for some reason always pictured yawning when I finally bitched and twisted his arm into him telling me so.

   So things were good. Clearly we weren't meant to be together.

   I'm not so stressed and angry. I've been feeling more... myself. Remembering who I am and what I actually like, what I stand for, what sets me off. What I have to offer. Although I still have moments of loneliness where I will text and facebook everyone and anyone when I can't get a hold of my bestie, I was in a good place.

   Well, that got shit right to hell.

   I won't go into serious details because you probably stopped reading anyway. I had commented on his facebook picture today, and he deleted the picture. I asked him about it and he told me that it had been on a date, and "ex comments felt a little weird."

   I wasn't thrilled, but I wasn't surprised either. I'm not an idiot. I'm a girl, and we can read body language  like a fortune teller reads tarot cards. I knew there was someone interested in him, and I figured, at some point, that would lead to him dating her.

Because he just loooves getting into long relationships.

   I'm a cool, mature person. Pssh. I can handle that. It's been two months. Not long, maybe. Maybe I would prefer it if he had stuck to his guns about how he just couldn't imagine dating anyone but me for a little while longer, maybe made it seem a little better that I had been about to move in with him in a matter of months. Hm. But, okay. I'm realistic.

   Oh, by the way, she loves your blog, he told me.

   Mmk. Well. Nice to meet a fan. Not really sure how the subject of my blog came up with the girl he's now seeing, but hey. I appreciate readership.

   And that's when he told me that the reason he had been so angry about my blog is because she reads it.

   Hang on. Flash back here. Because I'm pretty sure two weeks before I started this blog you were still asking to get back together and complaining of a broken heart. Which would put it a solid one month after we broke up and two after we almost reunited.

   Erm, okay, yes. I have a dating blog. Holy black kettle, right? But I really, legitimately am not taking this seriously as a way to find a mate. Maybe I didn't stress that enough. This is for sheer fun and experience, so those of you raising your eyebrows at me, just... chill out. I've had two serious boyfriends in 26 years, didn't I mention that?

    And one of them (the only one I loved, incidentally) just told me he started dating someone a month after we broke up. Two weeks after we almost got back together.

   Plus this is MY blog and I am the heroine of my own story. Everyone has their own side of an issue, but not everyone BLOGS ABOUT IT.

  So what did I learn from this.

   1) That he WAS lying with his apology.

   2) That he WAS lying when he told me all that shit about how much he loved me.

   3) He really DOESN'T think my boobs are all that great (They. Are.).

   4) That I am easy to get over.

And now I'm facing the eternal dilemma, the one I have deftly managed to avoid to this point.

Now I get to look myself in the mirror and ask, what's wrong with me that I am so quickly forgotten?

   How's about NOTHING! So goooo fuck yourself.

   Everything good I have left of you is tainted by your demonstration of just how little I actually meant to you. I may be going on dates, but I'm still recovering from a major break-up. To me, they are separate. This experiment in no way made it "better" that I was left because I just wouldn't settle down for you. That you made me feel like I wasn't good enough.

   That somehow I turned into the crazy one because I wanted to stay with you so bad I lost all sanity trying to squeeze what I needed out of you. Somewhere down the line, you switched. I never changed, but you did.

   You built me up onto a pedestal, and then you kicked it out from under me. And shrugged when I acted surprised.

   In a year or so I'm sure I'll smile and hope he's very successful and happy, with that girl, with another, whatever... but at this point? I'm more hoping he runs his car into a billboard.

Such as this one.

   The one good thing about this is that I finally get those scenes in movies where the heroine breaks a plate and cries off her mascara. I used to think it was a total overreaction, but you know what? It really fucking sucks when someone makes you feel... disposable.

   Although I have now discovered breaking a plate is really not all that exciting or rewarding.

   That is a major life disappointment.

Saturday, December 1, 2012

The Question of Casual Sex

The Post My Mother and I Will Never Discuss:

Today my messages contained something out of the ordinary. No attempt to get to know me, flatter me, or recommend themselves. No mention of my profile, or the things we TOTALLY have in common, or how I'm very pretty and probably not interested but just in case they're super hoping to hear from me...

All it said was this:

"Hey, would you be interested in casual sex?"

I clicked it immediately, ready with my usual cutting sort of reply I keep handy for those disrespectin'--something along the lines of "Not with you."

Maybe just a "BAHAHAHAHA! No."

Only, he is hot. Like, smoking hot. Game-changing hot. Like if Ryan Gosling told me, hey, so, we can bang, but like, no one gets to know about it.

Obviously that's a bad example, because Ryan Gosling would fall desperately in love with me.

I am not a casual sex girl. I fall more into the qualifications of "Tease" and "Make Out Slut." I'll chat you up, kiss you, and send you on your way. No commitment, no one gets hurt, everyone has a good time, and I don't have to worry that some stranger is going to be disappointed by my naked body or lack of flexibility or leave me with a case of urine that burns.

Not that I disapprove of this past time, or have any moral or religious hang-ups. I simply do not understand how it is done. There have been moments, I'll admit, where I think, screw it. This guy has been talking to me for an hour and he is only getting dumber. I'll just give him a fake number and tell him he has to leave early because I have softball practice or I have to meet my cousin for brunch or I'm actually a vampire and if the sun comes up before I make it to my secret spot I will burn to ash, and I can't reveal where my hidden coffin dirt lies lest he try to stake me in my death-like slumber.

Can I just say, "go away before I'm awake so I can pretend this never happened? Thanks in advance, it's been real." Men like honesty, right?

Yet I have never been able to do it. I chicken out. Generally I weigh the risks versus the results and I'm pretty sure the result "herpes?" trumps any mild itch that might need scratching.

Better a mild itch than a permanent one.

I've consulted friends on this matter, and they have assured me it is not rocket science and that I am severely over-thinking it.

But if someone, off the Internets, has openly admitted he has no interest in conversation, just straight sex, how does that work? Does he just show up at the door, and we walk, without speaking, to the bedroom? What kind of greeting do I use? "Hey, bed's right here?"

Do we fall into each other's hungry arms without a word? Am I supposed to serve him appetizers, maybe a drink first? Make some small talk? What if I hate him immediately, or he's a terrible kisser? Can I just tap him on the shoulder and say, "Mmk, you gave it your best but I don't see this working?"

Maybe "Oh, by the way... I have HIV, you're cool with that, right?" might work better if I need to clear the room.

So I responded, trying to get the details here. I admitted that it wasn't my usual style, how did one go about having "casual sex?"

The answer: "Pretty much no strings attached, just getting together and having sex. We could do something first if you want (drinks, movies, whatever), I just haven't been laid in a while with school being so busy and wanted to be up front about what I want. Are you interested?"

Huh. Okay, so at least I can get liquored up beforehand, but how do I sit across the table from someone who I know doesn't give a crap about my story about my cats and is just waiting for me to shut up and  take my shirt off. But like, openly. That's already been acknowledged. I know it. He knows it. My cats know it. It's like being a prostitute only I'm getting paid in penis.

While I was pondering the strange-itude of all of this, a perfectly nice and attractive personal trainer messaged me, and lost in my new masculine attitude of "Sex. Whatever. Pssh." I immediately asked if he wanted to meet for a beer. He shyly told me he'd like to get to know me better first.

Men are so weird.

Friday, November 30, 2012

Updates: The Cop-Out.

Due to the unfortunate circumstances of working three jobs and trying to finish the final stretch of college before graduation, this blog has gone sorely neglected, and for that, I apologize.

I have received multiple requests for an update, and while my insides go all warm and fuzzy that people are not only actually reading about my mundane dating experiences, they're interested in hearing more about them, the lack of time/motivation to date is putting a cramp on this social experiment and I worry I can't deliver you anything of quality at the moment.

As usual, I have lost momentum with a project. It's like the time I decided I was a vegan until I realized vegans don't eat steak even occasionally.

Today I arranged two dates, but after looking over my schedule for the upcoming days and realizing today is one of the only chances I have to really devote myself to not showering or putting on real clothes, I am re-scheduling.

The first, a nice guy I will just call Skinny Guy, who works at a bank and has been sweetly vanilla in both conversation and appearance the entire time we've talked, has also sweetly agreed to meet me tomorrow for a beer, rather than tonight.

The second date was arranged with Good Personality Guy, who I think I have to rename to Probably Gay. I was actually looking forward to meeting Probably Gay Guy again. He invited me to see "Anna Karenina" this evening, which suits me perfectly. Yet again, Probably Gay Guy knows exactly how to plan a perfect MeMe rendezvous.

I had even planned to pack my purse with tissues for two, and maybe some sugar-free hard candies or unbuttered air-popped popcorn in a baggie. I figure he'd splurge for Diet Cokes. We could giggle over Jude Law together. That sounds like a nice evening to MeMe.

While I'm looking forward to hanging out with PGG again, I'm beginning to wonder at what point it will get weird. I may envision a future of shoe shopping and ballets together, but if he is not actually gay (hrm...), then he's probably picturing something more like making out and some light groping. At the ballet.

PGG was, like SG, super sweet about me flaking out. He reminded me I just need to take care of myself and that he will be there when I have some free time. Can I just make the College Humor video into a fact and marry this guy?

Until I have more exciting news for my darling readers, I can only give you a few fun anecdotes, and updates on the contenders.

After going out with 60's Band Hair Guy, and Good Personality Guy who is probably gay, both sent me follow-up texts about how they had a great time with me, basically extolling how wonderful and pretty and nice I am.

Excuse me, my shoulder appears in need of brushing.

Both asked to meet up again. BHG wanted to see me the next night, but I gracefully got myself out of that one. It turned out to be a lucky maneuver on my part.

The following Monday, my phone was bombarded with texts from him detailing how he had had a horrible day. I didn't much care, but I inquired anyway because this is polite society and that's just what you do.

Band Hair Guy proceeded to tell me, in great detail, the story of how a man, who had apparently slept with his ex while he was dating her, confronted him that day, and told him all about how she had cheated on him. Then BHG confronted his ex on the matter, and fighting ensued. He was careful to explain, however, that he still held out they could remain friends, but he was hurt. He was just... so... hurt.

I comforted him and gave him the best generic advice I could offer. And then I told him I was going to take a nap.

When I woke up he had added that the reason he was telling me was because he wanted to hang out with me but he wasn't at his best at the moment.

That was the last I heard from/contacted Band Hair Guy.

There is no way I'm getting sucked into that one. Honestly, BHG doesn't need a date, he needs a shoulder to cry on, and I reserve sympathy for people I actually know--unless I'm drunk at the bar and some bitch is crying in the bathroom, and then I tell her she's pretty like Cinderella and hug her as if she has a week to live. That doesn't count, that's just college girl etiquette.

So I moved on to a few other candidates off of the website. My biggest interest was in Cute Guy #1. Cute Guy #1 was not only, holy crap, someone actually attractive, but funny and intelligent. We texted back and forth and he proved that he hadn't used up the best of his traits writing out his profile. After a few nights, I suggested we get coffee.

Cute Guy told me he didn't much care for coffee.

Hm. So I said, well, maybe we could grab a glass of wine--since he had been discussing earlier his foray into wine tasting (and also, I drink a lot of wine). He laughingly (I'm making a big reach here as this was via text) told me he hadn't really found any wine yet that he liked.

So I quit talking to him.

The next day he texted me again, surprising me, since I took those as blatant shoot-downs and figured I'd focus my energies elsewhere. He said he figured I had gotten busy or fallen asleep.

Yeah, sure. That's what happened.

The texting resumed. Funny, charming, flirtatious. What the hell? Over the long weekend I finally told him that I'd be back in town Monday if he wanted to meet up. This time he said okay. What was the difference? That I spelled it out? Although, since I haven't heard from him in a week, I'm going to go ahead and write off Cute Guy #1 here. He's as flaky as I am.

The other one on my plate I shall call Scientist. He is in grad school, so closer to my own advancing age. He is also funny and smart, and while not quite on the same physical caliber as Cute Guy #1 he isn't bad to look at. He looks... friendly.

(My best friend, looking over my account, has informed me that I have a very specific taste in men and thus, readers, take all of my attractiveness rankings with that in mind. I should chart them on a ranking of Michael Douglas--Pirate.)

Scientist Guy has been keeping up a steady stream of texts, which are oddly conversational and relaxed, as if we have known each other a long time. This is shockingly effective. Since I can be kind of awkward, one of the easiest ways to get me to talk to you is to act as if we have known each other for a long time.

I then feel that, since we have an established relationship, I can totally be myself because you get me! It takes me a while to realize what has happened but by then most of the shyness is gone. I know a few people blessed with this marvelous skill, and they are my best friends now. At least, that's what they tell me.

Scientist Guy is also super impressed that my bff and I hold the high scores at the Erotic Photo Hunt booths at a local bar (holla!), so I've clearly got this one in the bag. If he's impressed by my ability to played a game that involves pictures of naked ladies from 1970 while drinking beer from the pitcher, he's going to be an easy win.

 He hasn't yet asked to meet up, although a few minutes ago he asked me what my plans are for the weekend. Since I just cancelled all my plans I figured I'd better not fish to find out if he wants to hang, even though I'm curious if he will finally make the move and where he would take me. I've yet to have one offer a full dinner. I have no groceries in the house, so maybe that should be my next suggestion. Or we could have a super fun day and get my car's oil changed, maybe fill the gas tank while we're at it.

Romance, dead? Nevah. Now write me a check for my water bill. There's a good boy.

Anyhow, those are the major contenders at the moment. The stream of strange messages continues to hit my inbox, although I have noticed that if I don't respond to people for a few days, I get less messages from strangers. I assume from this that my little warning color probably changes from yellow to red and scares away anyone who wants to tell me "your pretty" or that we just have SO much in common (except that you are fat, and I am not).

One person of note I only responded to again because my mother thought he was really cute. This poor bearded man sent me the longest introductory message I have ever gotten. Here are a few of my favorite excerpts:

"Thanks for letting me know that Howl's Moving Castle was more than a movie, by the way. I don't know how I hadn't derived that from simply watching it. Obviously an adaptation you fool! I guess maybe I thought it was a manga. I don't do mangas (mangi?). I do love mangOes, however."

"Congo is way better than Jurassic Park. <Insert head shake>."

"Please don't judge me by the poor construction of this last mind thought; I tried to make 4 sentences in 1. I don't think it worked out very well."

"Did you know he was 6'9"?" --Regarding Michael Crichton, after listing what he considers his top five novels somewhere in the middle of this self-discussion.

"'You like books, me like books. You like lady writors. Me no really like lady righters."

My response to these pages and pages of rambling?

"I don't know if I can respond to anyone who ranks Congo above Jurassic Park."

I think I hurt his feelings.

Edit: I forgot that Probably Gay Guy did originally ask me out for sushi, but at this point I'm starting to wonder if I can still count him.

Friday, November 16, 2012

Double Booking

Today, MeMe Marie went on not one date, but two! On the same day!!--not at the same time, although that would seriously have made things a lot more interesting--but back-to-back which is almost as exciting.

   I think I can determine how invested I am in my dates by how much effort I put into getting ready. For the first one, I wore a t-shirt and jeans, and minimalist make-up. But I dried my hair.

   I picked up 60's Band Hair Guy at his home, texting him from the car when I arrived. He made me come inside anyway, and gave me the tour, seeming really excited about showing me around. He even apologized that he couldn't show me in more detail.

   Honestly, I could not muster the fake care he seemed to require. I was starving. This was originally supposed to be a breakfast date because he had told me he had to work "early." Apparently early means 5pm, so by 2pm when we finally met, I was ready to eat his stupid house.

   We went to IHOP--again, I had really been anticipating breakfast. Poor BHG had dressed in a nice button-up shirt and pants, despite already knowing that we were going to IHOP. IHOP. The International House of Pancakes.

   BHG has also cut his hair, so I was entirely distracted trying to figure out what I should call him. About halfway through the pancakes, I had the horrific realization that he almost, sort of, kind of looks like my brother. After that I was less fixated on making eye contact and more concerned about not bolting or screaming at him for all the times he secretly rolled my candy in salt.

   BHG was... interesting. Like, kind of weird, kind of like stories you'd expect that the crazy person on the bus would be saying out loud to no one in particular that you pretend not to listen to but can't really help it. Honestly, I felt very... mainstream. I think he imagines a romantic night staying home, tasting exotic beers and watching documentaries, and while that might be fun for a Tuesday, come Friday this girl wants to cram herself into fake leather, hike up the boobs and flirt with the DJ so he'll play my favorite Lady Gaga song twice in a row. And I'm okay with that.

   He also broke up with his girlfriend of three years about a month ago, approximately around the same time I was getting dumped, so I have a sneaky suspicion we're both just looking for someone to IHOP with. They also still hang out regularly. If I were legitimately interested in dating this man, either the ex goes, or the ex goes shopping for fake hair to fill in the spots I tore out while she slept.

  MeMe don't share.

   So... probably wouldn't work out with BHG, even without the weird Freudian concerns that I now need to address with my therapist. He did ask me to get a drink tomorrow when I dropped him off, which surprised me. But twice in one weekend is a lot of forced small talk and I'm sleepy so I gave a vague response. I might hang out with him down the road. I want to hear more of those weird-ass stories.

   Oh, I forgot the best part! He got weird about the check. I was not surprised when he brought it up, but his total blunt, casual interest in what should be done with the check did catch me off-guard. I didn't have to fake reach for it or anything. He just looked me in the eye and asked me what I had in mind. I think I made some joke about how I was kind of planning on him taking me shopping after, and went to grab it. Then he said he'd pick it up, looking both concerned about the cost, and benevolent about doing me such a favor.

  We went to IHOP. I got a single stack of pancakes, and water. Don't hurt yourself, hoss.

   So about an hour later, I had to rush across town to meet Good Personality Guy. For GPG, I added a little eyeliner, and did a quick teeth-whitening treatment. GPG has managed to continue to keep me interested via text, and let me tell you, multiple OKcupid options have fallen through the grate when it came to texting. Men who were cute (ish), funny, charming, and nice via messaging back and forth, would send me text conversations like this:

Slick Hair Guy: Hi.
Me: Hi.
Slicky: What's up?
Me: I'm doing something delightful and interesting, you?
Greasy McGoo: I'm bored.
Me: Helpful suggestions of entertaining ideas, teasing joke.
Goop-Man: I guess. I dunno.

   End of conversation.

   GPG was funny and engaging, as well as charming. I was excited to meet him for a quick beer at a casual restaurant. We also had the benefit of time constraint--I had one hour before I needed to leave and meet some lady friends for dinner, so no pressure to linger awkwardly, which was the biggest problem I had with BHG (WHEN DO I TAKE HIM BACK?)

   GPG was awesome. He was a great conversationalist in real life as well as text. I got excited, I chatted in an uncharacteristically bubbly manner. He writes, like me. He is well read. He loves my favorite author. He made me laugh, he had awesome stories about his awesome job.

   And he's... gay?

   Huh? My body was confused. I less wanted to tear his clothes off, and more wanted to ask him his opinion on mine.

   I refuse to be the manly one in the relationship. Seriously. He was wearing a nice sweater over a collared shirt and I was wearing a plaid shirt and boots with mud on them. I see this going one way, and that way involves me chopping wood to keep us warm in the winter while he heats up chicory on the stove.

   So now I'm facing a dilemma, because I want to hang out with GPG again. I want to sniff hair conditioners at the market and bitch about which girl we know is getting a fat ass while we titter and press our cheeks together for both greeting and goodbye.

   'Tis confusing, indeed.

   He then invited me to meet him downtown for the tree-lighting ceremony, where he was heading after, which actually sounded awesome and like a fantastic date, but I tried to picture it getting romantic, and all I saw was us giggling together over how bad we are for drinking hot chocolate with whipped cream and chocolate drizzle.

   Sigh. I shall try again next week.

   One thing I will say about this experiment, is already, even in this early stage, my self-confidence is improving significantly. I make eye contact with strangers on the street. I say what is on my mind more. I stand up for myself.

   I toss my hair in the mirror and think, damn, lady, you so fine.

   I guess I did that already, but anyway, the self-confidence thing is new, and I'm enjoying it.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Real Life Interference

  What a horrible week!

   Romantically, I had to put myself on hold for a bit, as my car and I are at odds--as in, I believe it should start, while it believes it should set me on fire MWAHAHA--so I had to cancel my plans for the weekend.

   I have been spending most of my time raiding the fridge for the entirety of its contents and gibbering on the couch while my roommate roots around the kitchen murmuring, "I swear I just bought a whole thing of butter..."

   Not a great week from the get-go, this one.
    And four dates, I cancelled. Four dates. Somehow I've gone from never dating to double-booking Fridays.

   Actually, it's been kind of nice, the cancelling. Maybe I inadvertently made myself seem more unobtainable, because I've been getting double the usual sweet texts checking up on me, asking me how my weekend is going. It's like having the some of the nicest benefits of a having, boyfriend without needing to pretend their jokes are funny.

   Here's what I missed out on:

1) Sushi lunch with Good Personality Guy, who was an absolute gentleman about me cancelling on him, and also offered to give me a ride anywhere I might need... which, now that I think about it... nah...

2) Home-cooked meal with 60's Band Hair Guy. BHG (who has cut his hair, he informed me, so now what do I call him? "Guy Who Kind of Looks Like My Ex?") has been determined to keep in contact, and invited me to three other events around town this weekend, but I am much too lazy to hike to see him and I refuse to be transported places on the handlebars of his bike.

3) A movie date with Blond Mohawk Guy, also known as CONTENDER # 3. Contender #3 enjoys wine, hiking, and grilling. I also just noticed, upon looking up Mohawk's interests to relate them to you, I am at the high-end of his age limit, and he the low of mine.

The downfalls of being a college drop-out and trying to date in a city devoted to a big university are obvious. Honestly if I can find a man that doesn't need me to buy him beer and sneak him into rated R movies,  I'll consider myself lucky.

4) A mystery date with Tall Guy, CONTENDER # 4. Tall guy had me on the hook from the get-go. He's actually pretty good looking too, although he runs kind of fair and polished while I've noticed lately that my attraction to a man seems to go up exponentially the more he looks like a pirate.

Tall Guy does not have a dusky complexion, a ponytail, or a silver earring--more's the pity, because he's funny in a smart-ass way, and since our meeting has fallen through for this weekend, he's seized on the chance to spend this coming week trying to plan a unique and fun date.

What will this unique date entail? He has only demanded my trust, confidence, and a certain level of goofiness. I have heartily pledged him my goofiness, but I will just make sure I carry pepper spray in my purse. If Tall Guy can actually pull off a unique and fun date without getting maced in the eyes, he'll already be putting himself miles ahead of the others.


   For those of you dabbling in the world of ONLINE DATING, probably inspired by my own delicious experiences, I'm learning slowly that a few things are important, which I will include from time to time.

  + Answer your messages. If the man turns out to be dull as shit, and ugly to boot, you can eventually stop responding, but when I started getting bold and sending out my own messages (which is strangely difficult for a lady), I noticed that OKC warned me about messaging specific gentlemen. Apparently if you don't reply to messages very often, the color of your message button changes from green, to yellow, or if you're truly a risk, red.

   OKC literally warned me, when I was messaging someone surprisingly attractive something fascinating about how they're attractive (what the hell do you say in these things?) that he probably wouldn't answer me back... was I sure?

   OKC has my back here. I was sort of expecting a message from the site a few days later when he didn't respond, telling me it's not me, it's that guy, that guy's a douche and he doesn't know what he's missing. But here's some more matches I might like!

   + Answer the questions. So far they're complete bullshit. Apparently they combine to draw together some outline of my basic personality, which at this point appears to be "more messy" "more sex-driven" and "less kind," which is crap. I'm plenty kind.

   But the bonus of answering your questions is you appear on the site more, which means more people--thus far, more attractive people--have access to your profile. And as long as they don't look at my personality profile detailing what a grubby mean slut I am, they're more inclined to contact me.


    So I should have my car back early next week. I have BHG offering to meet me for lunch between classes, so if nothing else, I will at least have one get-together. I work next weekend so I might not get to double book, but it's time to start making actual contact... mostly because I've run out of things to write about, and I'm really eager to regale you with my future hilarious dating conundrums.

   Maybe I should message Horse Guy again...

   I also think it would be really fun to try new, real-world experiences. Like, approaching men in the supermarket. Bookstore. Pet store. All the places Oprah says are great places to meet the love of your life.

If anyone has any great experiments they'd like me to perform, please let me know. Any pick-up lines I should test, maneuvers I should try... Honestly, I have one move, and that's brushing my boobs against guys at the bar to get free drinks.

   I share that with you because I love and appreciate--use it well, my pretty ones! It never fails.

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

Meet the Contenders... One and Two!

   Initial contact has been made. Candidates are lining up. Now it's time to sort through who shall embark with me on this DATING QUEST (copyright pending).

   I am maintaining quite a few conversations via constant messaging, which, at this point, has become kind of tiring. I no longer enjoy opening up my account and seeing the notifications button alerting me to my potential beaus, because that means I have to answer them. Where my first few messages were lovely long paragraphs with lots of detail, wit, and sass, I've reverted to one-line responses that do nothing but strictly answer whatever question they ask.

   "So, Marie, do you have any hobbies?"

   And they're always online. Like, all of them. One thing I do not like about OKC is that it tattles on you. If they're online, they can see that I'm online. Which means that I either have to abruptly sign off and hope they didn't notice my brief appearance, or I have to answer their stupid messages.

"how was your weekend???"

   My God, go outside for once. Maybe if you went out and experienced what the world has to offer you wouldn't be on a free dating site that I have to jump on and then quickly sign off of every three hours because you're still online.

   So, if you'll excuse me, losers, I have curtains to draw and a blog to write.

   I also learned an interesting fun fact about online dating. Approximately 30% of the men, once asking if you want to meet for a drink, or if they can call you some time, will then abruptly end contact.

   Wait, what? Is this a guy thing that's just going over my head? Did I ruin the chase? Did I come on too strong by accepting their request? Was I just another forgettable notch in their message log?

   For a few days I just kept my laptop shut and watched "He's Just Not That Into You" on repeat trying to decipher their hidden code, but I gave up, and stopped caring, mostly because I couldn't handle that much Scar-Jo in one week.

   I do wonder, am I supposed to follow up on these? Maybe a, "hey, you never texted?" message with some kind of frowning/winking flirtatiously disappointed emoticon?

   How about bite me.

   Of the ones that asked for my number and actually followed up on it, I have accepted dates with FOUR CONTENDERS, to be enacted ASAP.

   Apparently the closer to the weekend, the most willing men are to make a move. Noted.

   For these purposes, per the feminine usual, eligible males will be differentiated by their most striking physical feature.

CONTENDER #1: Good Personality Guy.

   I'm not saying he's ugly, I'm just saying if I were walking toward him down the street I'd probably be more attracted to the sidewalk. However, he blew through this process with surprising zeal by actually reading my profile, and responding to it in an interesting and engaging manner that contained no incorrect use of the word "your."

   Good Personality Guy made initial contact by noting that he, too, enjoyed my favorite obscure British fantasy writer. Not only had he read my favorite obscure British book, he had read other books. Long ones, with chapters.

   Good Personality Guy, a few informative and surprisingly enjoyable messages later, has invited me to meet him for sushi this Friday. I accepted for these reasons:

   1) I. love. sushi.
   2) Sushi is expensive, so I like it when other people pay for it.
   3) It was a surprisingly bold maneuver on his part, and I can appreciate that.
   4) I want to continue a conversation, in person, with one of the few people that can accurately reference books I enjoy.
   5) It's recommended to eat fish weekly for good health.

   So while I honestly think Good Personality Guy and I would be better suited to wear hoodies and high-five each other during all-night video game tournaments versus staring into each others' eyes under the Eiffel Tower, I'm going to give it a shot. Part of this process is to meet new people, after all.

   This is, yes, some version of throwing him under the bus. He's going to be my... dating training wheels.

   I may apologize for this later but I think I'll wait and see how the date goes first.

   CONTENDER #2: 60's Band Hair Guy

   60's Band Hair Guy and I have the odd situation of knowing each other previously. He frequented a bar I worked at for a short time, and we chatted when things were slow. He is interesting in that quiet, "I've seen the world but it's all so senseless" way that I absolutely know I will find annoying after three or four dates, but right now I still find fascinating.

   60's Band Hair Guy, once realizing that we had a few conversations two years ago, and had both found each other attractive and "nice," was quick to ask for my number and contact me via text.

   No, he does not use the correct forms of "your," but he uses a big word now and then, so I can pretend it doesn't bother me. Plus, he's got 60's band hair. I love 60's band hair.

   And also, he really was "nice." And he tipped 20%.

   He asked if we could hang out, and I said yes. Then BHG dropped it.

   He has no car.

   Okay. Generally, at this point in my life, I'd consider this a deal breaker. I'm mid-to-late twenties, for God's sake. Half the guys my age messaging me are bragging about the house they just bought, and this guy bikes the city.

   But... right now my front bumper is held on with silver duct tape. Let the girl whose car only starts once every third attempt not cast judgment.

   Poor BHG was seriously relieved that I didn't immediately shout "OUT WITH THEE" and pelt him with stones, as I get the impression other OKC ladies were more prone to do over this unfortunate bit of information. He offered to come make me dinner on Sunday, but, while I would really be interested to see how he manages to cart a load of groceries to my house without a vehicle, I'm not letting strangers come into my house... even to make me food.

   Plus, I'd have to clean.

Monday, November 5, 2012

Making The Initial Contact.

   Today I thought it would be a good idea to practice some real-world application of my new dating project, so I tried to flirt with the butcher while ordering fresh fish and some nice lean cuts of meat because I'm currently wearing Halloween on my ass (and that's really not beneficial to this experiment).

  So I made some eye contact, I chatted about fish fillets in a witty and delightful manner I smiled and lowered my voice a decibel. I questioned him about de-boning as if my very world depended upon his response.

   Of course, had the butcher been moderately more attractive, my attempts to make contact would run more along the lines of:

Butcher: Can I help you? Ma'am? Are you all right? You're sweating quite a lot and staring at me in an unnerving manner. Ma'am? Where are you going? You left your cart!

   And bonus points, I was wearing my glasses from middle school (which are way more comfortable than my hipster glasses but make me about as attractive as June Shannon), and generally any time I encounter a member of the male species while wearing my ugly glasses I'm more inclined to slink creepily into a corner and write sad poems in Sharpie on my forearm than try and converse.

   Did he ask for my number? No. Damn glasses. But I did learn that fillet cuts already come without the bone which is knowledge I can take to the grave.
  Sigh.  He didn't even give me a discount like the butcher across town who notices when I cut my hair.

   But it's a start. Adjusting to human contact is probably the first step in being a successful dater. After I've got a few dates under my belt, I will try some more real-world application experiments.

  This feels especially important because I realized today I'm still getting in the last trickles of merchandise I bought on my break-up online shopping spree. You know, the kind where you drink so much wine you fall asleep with your Visa in your hand and when you wake up with a start at 4 am you realize you've ordered a bunch of child labor-made jewelry from China and six large pizzas.

  So while the earrings in the mailbox were a nice surprise, I realized today I spent the entirety of the money I had been putting aside so we could move in together on bronze owl necklaces and knee-high boots cobbled together by weeping six-year-olds. So while my new boots look fantastic with skinny jeans, something about that says, not a healthy coping mechanism.

   Then, since the break up is fresh in your mind everything you encounter begins reminding you of it, and suddenly the commercial about toaster pastries is making you think, my God, I made the biggest mistake of my life. And I think I would apply my frosting in the shape of a cow.

   Thank God I still saved the e-mail from Thing Two where he gently suggests I try Paxil to control my rage and calls me emotionally needy which was somehow intended to reunite us believe it or not. That e-mail has saved me a lot of drunk texts.


   So it didn't take long to get messages. Apparently a moderately attractive woman on a free dating site is about as rare as finding a rich guy on a free dating site. I'm categorizing them as follows:

1) The Brief Compliment: Real examples:

-"Holy cow... you are a goddess."
-"I love your hair."
-"you hae a really cute smile how's it going"
-"you're very gorgeous."

   You get the idea. And while these are nice, and make me feel pretty good about myself even though I'm sitting in sweatpants with my hair up playing fetch with the cat, I generally just respond "thank you" or ignore it entirely.

   2) The Salutation:

-"Hi how are you"

   Ok... I mean, they're polite. Cool. "I'm good, thanks" is my general response, if I bother.

 If they're a 3/5 stars or above, I add,"You?"

   3) The Over-Share: A quick note of interest in me followed by a bombardment of information regarding their relationship goals.

-"Hey, my name is DUDE. You seem like a pretty cool person. I am a fun, outgoing guy who loves laughing, smiling and just enjoying everything life has to offer. I would like to chat and see where it takes us. Message me if you're interested. :)"

   Well, at least he used the correct "you're." Generally I avoid responses to these, unless the guy is attractive.

   4) The Bold Statement:

-"we should cuddle."
-"Let's get a drink sometime."


   5) The Profile Reference: Taking the time to actually look over what you mentioned in your dating profile rather than just checking out your pictures? Novel. These messages are the ones I almost always respond to. Generally they're not brilliant, but the witty ones get extra points. This is my favorite one so far:

-"I have good news. According to okcupid, we have only a 5% chance of hating each other. Pretty good right?! I'd take those odds any day of the week. Unfortunately, I'm not genuine, well-spoken, thoughtful, or an animal-lover. In fact, my favorite hobby is drop-kicking puppies and kittens. But the percentages don't lie! 5% chance, right? :) You seem like you'd be fun to be around which I like (no Debbie-downers here) and you come off as being pretty adorable. What would it take to overcome your hatred of dating? 'Cuz I gotta know what I'm up against in terms of convincing you to consider suffering through an awkward, uncomfortable conversation with me ;)"

   6) The Just Plain Weird:

-"I think you should know something. I'm not like other guys. Let me explain. I was born as a result of the twisted sexual appetite of my now deceased mother. Her love for steed was unsurpassed. While many man appreciate whores, my mother preferred horse."

Much, much more followed. His profile picture was a dude with a horse mask. At least I'm assuming it was a dude.

   I responded back, "Thank you for sharing this touching story with me." Horseman immediately replied back that I am a breath a fresh air, and while this was only a joke profile, he'd be interested in getting to know me... unless I had been more into him as a horse, and that was cool.

-"Hi, I'm really good with animals, want to know a secret about how to get animals?"

   I was sure that had to be some kind of trap. I'm pretty confident I remember questions that were phrased like this when I was a child always resulted in my getting bitch-slapped by my older brother. But, no. It's just a poor, weird guy, even more awkward than myself. His next message asked me if I knew how to report a girl for talking to him, because he wasn't interested in the girl who had messaged him and didn't want to hurt her feelings.

   I told him rather than report her to the site as harassing him, maybe he could just block her, or better yet, ignore her. If he stopped replying to her messages, she would get the hint.

   I then stopped replying to his messages.

   So, am I learning anything so far? Actually, maybe. I originally went into this swearing I wouldn't talk to anyone who wasn't relatively attractive. Call me shallow but if I don't want to bang you this probably isn't going to go anywhere. But after sifting through the many, many, horrible messages I got, I went back to the ones that were funny, sweet, or contained minimal spelling errors, and responded.

   My first date is set for Friday.

Saturday, November 3, 2012

Online Dating: The Profile Creation

  Enter the wondrous creation of an online dating profile. It begins. Now I'm serious about it. Despite hesitation I'm going forward with this plan. OH GOD.

   I have chosen Okcupid.com as my venue of choice. This is my reasoning for picking Okcupid over other reputable sites, such as Match.com:

1) It is free. 

  Yeah, that's it. I'm not looking to get married, I'm not even looking to fall in love at this point. If I was investing in a spouse, I'd put some money into it. Also, Richsingles.com seemed a little sketchy when I checked it out, and I didn't feel God calling me enough try out Christianmingle. 


   First, obviously, I added my highest-quality photos. Photos where I look happy, dynamic, quirky, maybe well-traveled. Thoughtful, pleasant. Thin.

  I am none of these things, but with the right tilt to my head and by not posting any photos of myself without make-up, I can disguise that fact. Also when possible I try and crop out whatever drink I've got in my hand at the time. 

   Choosing a body type? Good Lord. If I put anything but "athletic" everyone's going to immediately assume I'm fat as a hog and the camera simply couldn't take in the sheer mass of my body for my profile pic. I settled with "curvy," because I'm as athletic as a couch, but I'm stacked top and bottom like a fine-dining hamburger. With extra bacon. 

1) Self Summary: 

   Obligatory, gee, dating is tough statement. Suggestion that I'm open to meeting new people and making friends. Statement regarding what I would be looking for in a man ("I'm looking for someone who is genuine, comfortable with themselves, funny, a little spontaneous, kind, well-spoken, and thoughtful, who loves animals and camping and cooking, going out and staying in...). 

   Basic traits I think most women would appreciate in a relationship--although to be fair, maybe not everyone like boys who camp. But if you are looking for someone who is insecure, rude, and hates animals, then you should probably get off the dating sites and get into therapy.

 Statement about who I am and what I am like... the temptation to point out that I am basically perfection personified is strong, but instead I spin some of my flaws as quirks so I sound both self-deprecating and charmingly self-aware. 

2) What I'm doing with my life.

   Holy fuck, how do I spin "absolutely not a damn thing?" I spend my existence wondering when I can next eat or take a nap. Okay, here we go: I'll add the nap thing, but I'll make it sound like I'm just really busy and always napping from exhaustion not because my bed is just abnormally comfortable and I'd rather be asleep than face my every-day responsibilities.

3) I'm really good at:

   I got this shit. Cooking. Thereby any man who didn't rate my pictures as high as I would like will give me bonus points because I can feed them and bring them beer. I'd put something sexual but I think that might attract the wrong crowd, and also, if you re-read my above comments about how much I love to nap, expert sexual prowess might be an exaggeration. 

4) The first thing people notice about me:

   I don't know. What kind of people are we talking about? Because it's a safe bet guys I meet first notice my boobs. Can I put that? I feel like it's kind of implied in "curvy." If I write something about my gorgeous green eyes or winning smile I'll just come off as egotistical; they can figure that out later. Screw it, it's a filler question anyway. 

5) Favorite Books, movies, TV shows, food.

   Honest answers, leaning toward the more intelligent options, to weed out the dumbasses. Yes, I like raunch comedies from time to time, and I'll pick up a bodice-ripper now and then, but so help me I would judge you for listing it, so I'll stick with the high-brow stuff. 

6) The 6 things I could never do without:

   Carmex, my best friend, my pets, sleep, wine, and texting. Child's play, yo. Pure honesty too.

7) I spend a lot of time thinking about:

   Facebook? Food? Drinking? Wait, when was the last time I showered? Do I smell yet or can I make it another day? Maybe one day I could meet Oprah. I want Oreos. Do I need milk? I'll bet I'd be a really good farmer. 

8) On a typical Friday night, I am: 

   "Wearing my fat pants and ordering food from the Chinese delivery guy that knows me by name" probably doesn't sound very fun and dynamic. Okay, I can do this. I have hobbies, right? I have friends. I'm going to say "I basically either want to be drunk or as stationary as possible" but word it a little more appealingly. I like to go out, I like to stay in... Gee, notice how fun and adaptable I am? And dynamic. 
9) I'm looking for: 

   Here's my chance to cover my ass and be honest. I'm not doing this to hurt people, to string anyone along. I am not looking for anything serious. I want to meet new people, try new things, get out now and then... Does "try new things" sound like a sexual innuendo? Whatever, I'm leaving it. Might do me some unintentional good. Anyone who cries on my shoulder about how they thought I was the wife they've been searching for can be referred back to this section while I book it out the door.

10) You should message me if: 

   Reiteration that I'm just looking for some hangs... 

   Also a gentle recommendation that basic spelling and grammar concepts, if not mastered, should at least be applied whenever possible.

   A suggestion that has, to date, been almost entirely ignored, but I can delve in that later when I start talking about the guy pretending to be a horse.

Profile, complete. 

Friday, November 2, 2012

Thing Two... The Saga Continues.

   So Thing One and I have ended.

   Two years pass. I intended to date. I really did. I tried. I'm picky, but if I thought there was even a remote chance that things could work out, I'd give them my number.

A brief selection of my attempts to get out there:

1) I met a handsome man at a pizza joint, who I enjoyed having a stimulating conversation with. He asked for my number, and not long after, he called to invite me on a date. I asked if he wanted to meet for coffee, or a drink, but he had another, more romantic evening in mind... he had just bought the DVD boxed set of "To Catch a Predator," and was very insistent, despite my gentle hints that watching pedophiles caught on tape didn't really appeal to me, that I come to his apartment and enjoy the varying degrees of surprise on the suspects' faces.

2) More than one man who I was at first interested quickly switched to my roommate, who wears her pants tighter and was way more inclined to sleep with them... and made no secret of that, unlike her somewhat reserved and less blonde friend.

3) One guy wouldn't text me before 11 pm asking if I wanted to hang out, even though I repeatedly told him I had pajamas and old TBS reruns on by that time of night, and if he wanted to make plans he needed to do it earlier. By 11 pm I don't want to put make-up on and go out. I want to wear a Biore pore strip, drink a beer, and watch back-to-back episodes of "Friends."

4) Greg, as we shall call him, was my only successful date. He shared my sense of humor, and I was unusually talkative and outgoing that day. I flirted, I charmed, I looked hot. The coffee barista boys at the cafe we visited flirted with me before he came up, thereby totally laying it down that I was a good catch. The conversation was amazing--we teased and made plans to try Indian food and talked for hours, making him late for a meeting. I left on a cloud. He never contacted me again.

   Enter Thing Two.

   Thing Two and I had dated briefly during my sophomore year of college, when Facebook was "The Facebook" and if your friend from Spanish class told you about her ex-boyfriend, it was socially acceptable to add him out of curiosity. It was short-lived, but we stayed friends. For seven years. And then we moved out of friendship into something else.

   This is it, I thought. I'm Meg Fucking Ryan!

   Since the sting of the end of Thing Two is still smarting at this time I will just give you the basics:

   We dated eight months. That's about thirty years in Marie relationship time.

   In the beginning of the relationship, I thought, my God. I have to marry this man because no one, no one, will ever love me as much as he does.

    By the end of the relationship, I no longer believed that. In fact I was pretty sure the homeless guy outside the coffee shop who told me I had nice legs could probably show me more affection.

   I didn't like the person I had become. He wanted me to change myself, and I tried. It took me about seven months to realize I don't fucking want to change who I am. I'm awkward and weird and a little bit crazy, I have a bad temper and I'm moody, but I have always respected myself, and I was pushing myself away in a way I am not proud of. Besides, shouldn't I be able to find someone who could accept that about me? Who could work with it, not aggravate my bad qualities and then smugly tell me I needed to fix them?

   Ladies, if a man hates your dog, dump him. That was a rookie mistake. Honestly, if I had to pick between a boyfriend or a dog farting on me, ruining my new bra, or puking on my pillow, guess which one I say "aww" to and guess which one sleeps alone on the couch for the rest of the week.

   But I learned a lot in that relationship. Thing Two was the first time I've been in love. The first time I didn't sneak out of bed in the morning to put on make-up and brush my teeth before he saw me (in retrospect, perhaps we might have made it a few more months if I had). The first time I thought about someone, constantly, to the point where it interfered with regular life. The first time I thought, I could get married.

   Things fade. The first time I learned that love won't always last. 

MeMeMarie: A Brief Romantical History. Thing One.

   My darlings,

   To fully explain to you what I plan to do, I suppose I must be honest and upfront about my previous romantic encounters, you can grasp how little I have to work with here. Serious apologies to anyone involved who happens to reads this. Happily, I hate most of you now and have defriended you, so I can say whatever I want, dicks.

   Luckily I can gloss over almost all of high school. High school love affairs generally consisted of me trying to disguise from the male species how much I was sweating while avoiding making any direct eye contact. My dear friends and I also were fond of "stalking" our paramours. Generally this involved making frequent trips around the cafeteria, laughing airily and pointedly not looking at their tables while we stocked up three or four times on napkins.

   I had two big "loves" in high school. I'm not sure I actually spoke directly to them at any one point in time... at least until after I had graduated and had lost interest.

   Moving to college was an amazing experience. Whether it's because you're around a new group of people who don't still remember you as the pimply, braces-clad sweaty girl who always seemed to be lurking in the hall when you were at your locker, or whether it's because college boys are just super horny, I experienced the new and heady rush of boys asking me out.

   Frat boys who wanted to show me their Iguana upstairs (if you know what I mean). Nice boys who asked if they could buy me coffee sometime. I had imaginary relationships with random guys in the hall that stopped by once or twice, that never seemed to work out so I mentally dumped them.

   Did I go out on real dates with any?

   Nope. Not really.

   I was having too much fun. Sure, this guy's nice, and this guy's cute, and this one is kind of a douche but he knows someone who can buy me liquor... but why ruin all the flirting and making out with strangers with a real relationship?

   I went out with two boys in college, although never on a real "date." We'll call these boys in question Thing One and Thing Two for the moment, because I'm still harboring some bitterness and that makes me laugh.


   I met Thing One at a party, where I was really trying to make out with cute guy over here, but he didn't seem interested, so I made out with cute guy over there instead (ah, college). Cute guy drove me home and i gave him my number, because, well. I don't know. There was that spark, I guess, that always seemed to be missing with the other guys. Plus, he drove me home. That's like a college guy's version of slaying a dragon for you.

   Thing One and I dated briefly, long-distance, but I still wasn't ready to be serious, I wasn't sure how I felt anymore, and I ended things.

   Thing One showed up a few years later, our air cleared. He was in a relationship. He invited me to his birthday party and I thought, excellent. This shall be a perfect chance to show him how mature I've become (while still retaining my good looks and youthful glow), and we shall spark up a great friendship and be mature adults who dated a little and managed to get a strong friendship out of it.

   Only problem was, when I met up with him, I liked him. Like, wanted to smell him when he wasn't looking liked him. Dismayed by my reaction, my friend and I decided it would be best to leave, and we did.

   A few hours later, dancing the night away, we ran into him. Oddly, sans his girlfriend. We all hung out and had some laughs until he disappeared unexpectedly. When my friend and I got in the cab to head home (always be safe, folks), I cried. Feelings are seriously inconvenient.

   Through some crafty work, I got his number, and we chatted, as friends. When he finally (FINALLY) told me that he and his lady had broken up, I confessed my interest, apparently surprising him. We began to date.

   Was it too soon? Most definitely. You see, my friends, there is something known as "The Rebound." It is not a myth. Whereas I was thrilled to be in a relationship with someone I wanted to surreptitiously stare at all night like a psycho Kathy Bates in "Misery," he was more or less having a good time and brushing off his break-up. It didn't take long to figure that out, especially when he kept blowing me off to go hang out with his very pretty blonde friend. I was having a hard time adjusting to being in my first real relationship as well. When was it okay to do this? Was this too needy? Why did he only seem to be interested when I lost my temper? Was I bad in bed? WHY WASN'T HE RETURNING MY TEXTS?

   Again, but for very different reasons, I ended it.

   When I realized that he was actually in love with his very pretty blonde friend, whether he knew it or not, I was crushed. And it took a long time to bounce back from that. I'd never been crushed before.

   As far as I know from some curious stalking I did about a year ago, they are dating now. They will probably get married and be happy and pretty together and have a bunch of kids and buy a house with a fenced-in yard.

   I hope that their children are serial killers.

Getting Started... An Introduction

   Hi, everyone!

   Welcome to my good friends, slightly shamed family members, and enemies who are checking to see if I've gotten fat (NOT YET BITCHES!).

   This blog is going to be what I consider a "social experiment." I like saying "social experiment" because:

1) It makes me sound as if I am doing something intelligent and productive.
2) It makes me seem less desperate and/or slutty.
3)  It makes me feel less worried that all I'm really doing here is manipulating people into buying me food.

   Am I desperate and slutty? I guess I'll leave that to you to decide. But I do like it when people buy me food and I'm not afraid who knows it.

   So what is the deep purpose of this blog, this highly cerebral and not at all calculating "social experiment?"

   Hell if I know. But hopefully it will be entertaining to us both.

   Let's be honest--most of us single ladies in our mid-to-late (but insisting mid) twenties are funny. We have good personalities. We can carry on a conversation. Many of us are beautiful, pretty, cute, or moderately attractive in a certain lighting... or, at least, if not that lucky, we can cook.

   So why are we stuck with the cast-offs? Why are we settling, or changing ourselves, or just pretending we are happy?

  Obviously this is a generalization, but it's one pieced together from my own experiences as well as those of my lovely lady friends, co-workers, acquaintances, people I chat with on the bus... etc...

   So I'm going to go out there. I'm going to tread the waters and find out how many fish are actually worth catching and if there is a way to tell which ones will give you mercury poisoning. Most of all, I'm going to explore the world of dating, because, honestly, I suck at it.

 The hope remains I emerge from this endeavor more knowledgeable, confident, and open about the dating world. And if not? Well, I get a few free meals (or coffee, or drinks... hopefully drinks), maybe a few new experiences, a friend or two, and I get to share my stories with you guys.

I'm an attention whore, and this pleases me.