Breaking A Couple Up? There’s an App For That


A while back I posted an article where I articulated the opinion that “Facebook ruins relationships”.  I realized at the time that it was probably a bold statement that was purely opinion and not at all cold hard fact.

Well, today I come to present you with evidence that is undeniable.  Facebook, or rather, the new Waiting Room application, is actually ruining relationships.

Last week news broke that an application would send you a friendly notification if someone you have an interest in had a sudden change in relationship status on the popular social networking site.  I found it sort of odd, but brushed it off because any Facebook stalker worth their salt would notice this before an application had the opportunity to send an alert.  That application was doing what any of us could do on our own.

But this new application called “The Waiting Room” actually allows individuals to indicate their interest in dating someone who is already in a relationship.  Once the interest indicates that they’re “waiting” on someone to haev a relationship status change, the user in the relationship can add the application, log in to their ‘waiting room’ and see who may be waiting on them to exit the current relationship.  The idea is that if the deal is sweet enough, someone might jump the ship.

Breaking up?  There’s an app for that.

I sincerely don’t think that Facebook or any applications are literally breaking up couples.  I just find this stuff quite frustrating for real relationships.
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Bachelor Number 1 Calls Back


Well, he didn’t call…technically the first contact was a text message, four days following our first date.  I wasn’t really torn up about not hearing from him sooner, honestly, because I had another family crisis this weekend (Seriously, 2011? SERIOUSLY?).  I had intended to text him a quick “thanks” for the date, just because it was nice of him to buy me drinks. But things got carried away this weekend and I just dropped the ball.  So, when I didn’t text, and didn’t hear by Sunday, I was ready to post about my epic failures that probably led to this.

Namely, I figured that between my hung over state, my wanting to cut the date after 2 and a half hours, and my clumsy way of leaving (A-Frame hug, ‘thanks for drinks!’), I wouldn’t hear back.

But I did. He texted as I left work and it simply said “How’s your week looking?”

It looks fine, honestly.  I thought I might have a date with a Match.com subscriber this week, but…well, that’s another story for another post really. I sort of wrinkled my nose at the thought, but was reminded by my friends that I did, indeed, say that I would go out again if asked.  And that there wasn’t anything really wrong with Bachelor Number 1, per say.

I don’t feel like we had a really substantial conversation until the end of the evening.  And I was cold on the patio and tired, so I wasn’t really giving even that conversation my all I suppose.  Everyone deserves a second chance, I guess, and that probably includes me.  What if he’s pity-asking me because he thinks I deserve another chance too?!

So I texted back that I was available Thursday if he was.  But as of the time I’m writing this post, he’s not texted back.  And it’s tottering on less than twenty-four hours prior to date time.

I’m definitely working on some other prospects on Match, but Bachelor Number 1 is hanging in the background.

Do you follow me on Twitter?  Real-time updates will follow there, before a regular update here.  I’m @TheBlindBlonde and would love for you to hear my thoughts as I blurt them out to the world wide web.

All Is Fair In Love and Blogging


Groucho Marx & anonymous blogging
Blogger? Me? Never.

I’ve shared this existence of this little blog with several more people in my real life lately.  The Match.com news caused me to be a little more brave, a little more excited, and a little more gossipy.

Most of them say the same thing.  First it’s “Oh my gosh, you’ve been blogging for a while!” and then they say “Oh my gosh this is so you, Blonde!” and then finally they conclude with “But are you gonna tell these poor guys you’re a dating blogger?”

And that’s usually where I go silent.  I don’t really know what I should be doing.  And honestly, in the amount of time I’ve had this blog, the issue hasn’t really been relevant.  But I realize that now that I am actively on Match.com, it’s probably time to decide what is fair to these dates.

I figure I have a few choices.

Choice one is that I tell them, up front, what I am doing.  Hi, I’m The Blonde, you’re cute, and I blog about dating.  I suppose this way, it’s all on the table.  Then again, I might never actually get to the table.

Choice two is that I can go out, have a good time, and decide somewhere after the first encounter if they need to know that I blog. Maybe when things get serious? Maybe before things get serious?  I realize that if I met someone and was that serious, I wouldn’t keep blogging about them directly.  This blog existed before I dated, and it can continue after.  I guess?

And choice three is that I never tell them. But I don’t know exactly how long I can keep a secret.

Choice one seems impractical, but then again, so does choice three.  I run the risk of ruining a good thing with both of those choices, the way I see it.  There seems to me that if I date someone, there eventually comes a ‘point of no return’ where I should have revealed my “secret” and the lack of information seems weird and wrong.  But there also seems to be a point where it’s too soon to tell someone.  I’m not dating for the blog, I am simply blogging as a byproduct of the dates.

I promise this–I will never go on a date for the sake of this blog.  I will never meet someone for the sake of material, and I will never continue seeing someone for the sake of this blog.  And of course, as usual, no names.  No way to easily identify my victims.

What’s ethical? What makes the most sense?  Are there any dating bloggers out there with advice?

I already started joking with some friends that I didn’t reveal the blogging gig to Bachelor Number 1, but considered it when I felt the date wasn’t going well. It was almost my “Panic Button” move.  When in doubt, reveal the dating blog.  And then maybe the check for dinner comes a little bit quicker?

Tell Me About Yourself: Making a Match.com Profile


So this is it, the big leagues.  Mere hours ago I put the finishing touches on my Match.com profile and it seems that my profile is devoid of adult content or potentially harmful material and was put on the fast track to approval.  Hello internet dating scene, I have arrived.

The first half, which I’ll chronicle in this entry, is the “About Me” section.  I’ll cover the “About Me” section in this posting and then post a separate “About My Date” section.

Making the profile was an interesting venture, actually. I entered my email address (I made a generic gmail one!), my birthday, let it know that I am a woman seeking a man, and then chose a username.

So many people have talked about the importance of the dating site screen name.  I was nervous to pick.  First and foremost, I didn’t want a user name that I have ever used online (There are only three that I have used since 1997!), one that could be traced to where I work, or one that might lead back to this blog.  So I went with something simple but random.  I left out the number 69, which seems to be something most people can’t really refrain from on dating sites, and I didn’t use the words girl, gurl, or baby.  I figure I’m probably ahead of the game on this one.

Now that I’ve selected a username comes the big fun–actual questions!  First off, what brings me here today?  There’s no option that says “I’m blogging and someone offered to let me try this for free!” so I just answered “no answer” on this one.  Sorry, whoever does the research and uses this data!

I begin page one of the basics with some excitement.  Simple questions. My relationship status?  Never married.  Thanks for the reminder.  I’m female, again.  And then the big question…the age range of my potential mate?

I fully believe that the age of my potential dates will factor in to how I respond to them in a major, major way.  Too young?  What will we talk about (and will I know them from my job? EEK!)?  Too old and I tend to feel weird.  I debated for a long time and finally I made my choice.  I’m willing to date someone between the ages of 25 and 35.  I checked with a few friends and they thought this seemed like a plausible range for me.  First and foremost, though it is possible to run in to someone I’ve met at my job, it becomes less likely after the age of 24, the age that many students graduate from college.  Also, I have this (whackjob?) theory that though I am close in age-proximity with those who are still pursuing undergraduate degrees straight from high school, we have different frames-of-reference on life, jobs, and free time.  Three years does not seem like a huge gap, but I cannot be taken to a frat party on a Friday night (more than once or twice!).

35 is really my max in age, and that serves two purposes.  One, it’s less than ten year’s difference, which seems like a good round number to stop with, and second, they won’t remember much before I was born–i.e. the years before 1984.  And as a friend pointed out–let’s be honest here folks–The Blonde’s last two ‘crushes’ have been over 35.  Age has definitely factored in the ‘reasons this cannot work’.  So I am definitely attracted to the maturity and stability that comes with someone older than I am, but not too much older. And I just spent way too much time justifying my age choice. Moving on..

I spent less time considering the distance I am willing to travel for the match of a lifetime–I included my city and my hometown, which happens to be about an hour away from me.  I figure this gives me an opportunity to meet people outside my current city and maybe see some new things.  Oh, and it also lets me see if anyone I went to high school with is on Match.com.  Sorry.

Match also sneaks a little box in at the bottom of that page that says “I only want to see matches with photos”.  I definitely clicked that.  Don’t let it pass you by.  I could have missed it if I hadn’t been pouring over the age question for so long.

Page two, more basics.  Where did I grow up?  I wonder what this is used for?  And what’s my sign?  I don’t mind telling, it’s libra.  But again, how will this factor into my Match.com experience?  Very interesting.

We move on to appearance.  Just some general questions.  How tall am I?  Despite my driver’s license statement of 6 feet, 3 inches, I am just a mere 5 feet, 6 inches.  That’s a good woman size, right?  Not too short, but not so tall I’ll tower over most men I meet.  Not that towering over men is a bad thing.

What’s my body type?  The options are interesting.  Slender…not since…ever.  About average…that sounds right, but what is average?  Athletic and toned…that’s a goal but not a reality yet.  Heavyset…I wouldn’t say that, especially not since I slimmed down almost 100 pounds.  A few extra pounds…what?  Stocky…makes me think of George Costanza.  Next.  Big and beautiful…seems like a Craigslist answer of someone bigger than me.  Curvy..hmm!  Full figured…seems like an ad for Lane Bryant, which is cool, but probably not me anymore.

After much debate, I went with curvy.  I am willing to go back and change this, should any man out there send me a message giving me a good reason why curvy isn’t a descriptive word that would turn a man on (I didn’t say every man, I said a man).  I gave a couple of colleagues all the options, as read above, and asked them to independently choose a word to describe me for a dating site–keeping in mind that I wanted to be honest and would not feel offended at any choice.  All three settled on curvy.  If they’d call me curvy, then it’s probably a reality. Gosh, this is stressful and requires more votes than any piece of legislation I ever studied in college.

What’s my eye color?  Blue.  And finally, the question of the day, what I’ve been waiting for this entire time.  What is your hair color?  Blonde! Blonde! Let me shout it from the mountaintops, I AM BLONDE!

Okay sorry..moving on. The next category in the “about me” section is a category of “What sort of sports and exercise do you enjoy?” Several check boxes are on this page, allowing you to pick from things like “basketball” “football” “autoracing”.  At first I was intimidated, thinking that I didn’t actually participate in any of these sports and I would be a total loser.  But…then I realized…do that many people really participate in auto racing?  Probably not…so this section is definitely more about what you enjoy either playing OR watching..not just exclusively participating in.  Take liberties, because I did!

On that same page are two open boxes with 250 character limits.  Here, you free-write about your favorite places and what you do in your free time.  The trick is to fit your personality in the writing as well as answer the questions…and it’s pretty close to sending a tweet with the low character limit.  This took me awhile.  I am too verbose at times.  Have fun with it though.  I’ve found since filling out this profile that my favorite things to read are the 250 character ‘shorts’. The sad part is that these boxes are optional.  Fill these out! PLEASE!

The Interests section continues with the classic “What kind of movies do you like?” questions.  The genres are cleverly labeled with photos to help you in case you don’t understand, I guess.  I don’t take this section very seriously…mostly because movies are pretty low on my list of “things I’d like to do”.  Comedy, drama, documentary.  I like what I like? Hmm.

Lifestyle page is next.  Do you smoke?  Never.  Do you drink?  This one is tricky.  I like Match.com’s options…rather than having to answer the number of drinks per week, you can simply answer “moderately” or “socially” rather than the arbitrary number of drinks per week.  I think this is a more honest look.  I drink socially but would tell you I drink 0-1 drinks per week, which sometimes is accurate and sometimes isn’t.  There’s another little box at the bottom of the lifestyles page asking for 250 characters.  It’s an opportunity to tell more about yourself…the suggestion is to tell more about your job.  I look at this less than the other 250 character boxes.  Final question, again could have missed it..easy answer.  “No.”  Second page of lifestyle asks my annual income.  I left it blank…that seemed unnecessary to me.  Next box asks for pets you like, pets you have, and pets you have no preference on.  Weird, weird, weird. I never considered this in dating.  I like regular pets, nothing really exotic, not birds really.  Ugh!

Background and Values category is up next.  My ethnicity seems so boring, but I answer white/Caucasian and leave the 250 character box empty…what is there to say about that, really? Someone with a different or multi-ethnic background definitely  might have a better answer in 250 characters.  Religion comes next, and that’s a tough one for me.  I was raised…nothing, really.  My family is full of non-practicing Methodists, I went to Catholic school for a bit, I minored in Religious Studies, and yet I am just about the least knowledgeable Christian I can think of.  Still, I would describe myself as a spiritual person.  I select Christian/Protestant since technically I’m not Catholic.  Another 250 character box I left blank, but I’m considering going back and putting the previous sentence in about the Methodist family, Catholic school, etc.

Page 2 of Background and Values and I am wearing even more thin.  This covers languages you speak (I don’t know if my limited French counts, so I say no), Politics (I put middle of the road, I don’t want to turn anyone off since I’m seriously so laid back about political views of others!), and education.  I’m a little self-conscious about just having a Bachelor of Arts in a town full of grad students my age.

THE FINAL ABOUT ME SECTION ARRIVES! And the “Get to Know Me” section is actually interesting.  It asks your birth order (Only child, SURPRISE!)…what charities you gravitate towards, which comedian you find funniest (ugh, Match.com, get better options here! Jim Carrey or Chris Rock shouldn’t be a choice for me…), how you’d spend a big bonus, and what you’d do at a party if you knew no one.  I actually like these sorts of questions and there were more to answer like this.  I think these give a better view of what people value and what they are like.  The basics are good information, but these questions to me answer what you like not what you are like.  And I find that much, much more interesting.

Okay, I’ve droned on enough about myself.  Next Match.com post will cover the “About My Date” section, which may be more interesting to you.

 

Bachelor Number 1


I know the point of this blog is to take advice from readers and apply it to my own dating attempts–but I feel like I would be remiss if I didn’t impart on you this one piece of wisdom.  Maybe this tiny grain of knowledge will save you the pain I had to suffer.  Listen to me now:  HALF-PRICED WINE NIGHT IS ALWAYS A BAD IDEA.

Let that one sink in.  Half priced bottles of wine are just so tempting.  The night before my date, it was half-priced wine night at a favorite local restaurant so some of my favorite coworkers and I went and imbibed.  And imbibed.  And imbibed.  For someone who had to be at work at 7 a.m., you really, really couldn’t tell it as I became a karaoke rock star with a small following somewhere between midnight and 2 a.m.

Needless to say, the six o’clock alarm came way too early.  So early, in fact, that I was still a little tipsy, but somehow made it to the office.  The hangover didn’t hit me until about 8:30 or so, but it hit me hard.  And around the time that I was making my 20th trip to the restroom, my phone beeped with a text.  Bachelor Number 1 confirming our date.

The only thing that made my stomach hurt worse than the two bottles of wine I consumed was the thought of having to have another drink less than 12 hours later.  But I felt obligated, and couldn’t cancel due to hang over.  I texted back that I could meet at 6:15, after work, and that was that!

My coworkers all came by throughout the day to see if I had progressed to looking more alive (I had), to see if I was nervous (I wasn’t) and to ask if I’d text when I got home so they could make sure I wasn’t dead (I did.).  Everyone seemed to have a lot of dating tips that they needed to share.  “Don’t tell him you drank two bottles of wine and puked at work today, he’ll think you’re an alcoholic!” Good thinking.  “Do you have an icebreaker?” Nope.  “He’s an engineer? Be patient with him.” Oh crap.

Anyway, the last piece of advice I decided to actually use was “get there early and have a drink to calm yourself down and make sure you aren’t going to be sick again”.  I took off about thirty minutes early and headed to the location, but Bachelor Number 1 texted me in the parking lot and said “Already been here an hour, just come on in when you’re here.”

It’s times like these when I wish I carried a flask.   I parked my car and for the first time, I did get a little nervous.  But I wasn’t nervous about meeting him, or if I had something in my teeth, or anything strange like that.  I was nervous that my car wasn’t cool enough (I have no idea why..) and that my key chain made me look like a high school sophomore.  I actually made a note of these facts in the notebook I carry for blogging, and decided to trudge on in.  I was about 25 minutes early at this point, but figured if he was there, I might as well get this thing started.

This date with Bachelor Number 1 was my first date with someone I’ve never met in person.  As I grabbed the door handle, I got a little nervous.  What if he doesn’t look like his pictures, what if I can’t find him, what if he’s not here?  I assume these are all normal fears that one goes through when meeting someone offline, but I couldn’t be sure.  Anyway, I figured I’d cross that bridge when I got there, held my breath, and walked right into the door.  And by walked right into the door, I mean it didn’t open and I literally smacked into the glass.  Shit. I wish I made this stuff up, I really do.

Anyway, my fears were put to rest when I see that Bachelor Number 1 is the only person on the entire patio.  I decide to go with a handshake and introduction.  Which is probably the most awkward thing I could do.  But, it’s what I did.  We hurried to the bar to get a drink and I made yet an other fool of myself, thanks to the bartender.  I couldn’t remember the name of the homebrew they do at the restaurant, so I asked him “Isn’t there some beer here with like…a white-lightening name or something like that?” The bartender immediately said no, and rolled his eyes at me.  “That’s moonshine, honey.”  If he was being funny, it totally slipped passed me, probably due to nerves.  Turns out the beer is named Mountain Lightening.  Okay. Bah!  Back to the date itself.

Let me ask you something.  Have you ever been in a college course where you had something to read, but you just didn’t feel like doing it, so you blow it off and you sit down for lecture and the professor targets you for a question…and you can’t answer it because, well, you didn’t read? Yeah? WELCOME TO MY DATE.

My fatal error in this entire thing was that I didn’t memorize every fact on his dating profile.  My theory was “Why read all this information and know too much, when I can just get to know him in person?”  Epic failure on my part–if I asked a question that was answered on his dating profile (i.e. where’d you get your Masters?) it was answered pretty bluntly and followed by a just like I wrote on my profile.  I felt like an undergrad who didn’t read and was mocked in front of the class.

I think Bachelor Number 1 found me silly.  And silly isn’t a bad thing, it’s just apparently not in his type.  Which is cool.  He asked if I had a Facebook account, and sort of seemed deflated when I said I did. Sorry that I’m one of 600 million people with an account.  I made a reference to the movie The Social Network as it was the last movie I’d seen and he said “So you’re really obsessed with Facebook, aren’t you?” I just let it go.

I realize that I set myself up for this date poorly by feeling like shit, not reading his profile carefully enough, and meeting someone I wasn’t sure I had that much in common with to begin with.  So when he asked if I was ready to leave, I agreed.  I said I had a great time and meant it.  The weather was great, the drinks were too, and I was glad I had come out even if it wasn’t a love connection.  He said he was glad, and went to pay the tab while I gathered my things and said I’d pack up his library books for him.  He returned with another drink for each of us.  Ugh.

The more I think about it now, the angrier I feel that he asked for my input when he asked if I was ready to go home, and then totally ignored it by bringing another drink back.  But I drank it slowly and he sort of loosened up once he realized an end was in sight.  It was sort of weird.  The conversation got more serious the closer to time to leave—he began discussing religion, his mother’s cancer battle.  Things that could’ve filled the awkward silence prior to me deciding I wasn’t feeling it and wanted to leave.  Oh well.

So.  What did I learn?  I learned that it’s not just about me.  And by this I mean, it’s not just about whether they find me attractive, or whether they find me cute, or smart, or funny.  I am not there to sell myself at all—I’m there to see if I’m interested in the goods too.  *I* am making a choice.  *I* am making a decision about whether or not a I like who I am dating, and whether I want to see them again.  It’s not just for them to judge me.  I’m there to judge as well.

Bachelor Number 1:  Not a love connection.  Probably won’t call back.  On to the next one?

I Still Know How to Dance


You know, it’s definitely been a long time, but I still know how to make the dance happen.

It’s all effortless really, wherein I take the steps to let you know that I am interested, and you take the steps to ask me somewhere…it’s this graceful dance that I lead, careful to make it look like you’re leading.  Yep, The Blonde…she’s still got it.

I have a happy hour drink arrangement.  I refuse to call it a date because I really think it’s more of a let’s-meet-and-make-sure-you-don’t-have-a-forehead-horn situation, but still, it’s exciting. It’s from OkCupid, though, not Match.com.  At the time I arranged this interview, err…meeting…my Match.com account hadn’t been activated.  This will be my first OKCupid date, though.  I’m not sure what to expect with this one.

Let’s call him Bachelor #1.  He, according to the community search available on my employer website, is a visiting scholar working in the engineering research department.  He’s about a year older than I am, but seems super interesting.  And by super interesting I mean I know almost nothing about him.  Don’t worry, he gave me his full name in the event that I wanted to research him on the company website. I am not that insane.  Yet.

His profile mentioned being a happy hour enthusiast, so I asked him about his favorite happy hour spots.  His message back indicated a local favorite that I have visited many times, but have never utilized a certain outdoor area, which is almost unheard of for a resident of this city..and a proud resident at that.  So I asked if he thought it was odd that I hadn’t been (HELLO:  ASK ME! is probably how it read. Totally intentional).  So he asked me.  Bing, bang, boom. It’s a two-step, and I still remember all the moves.

Am I nervous?  Not especially.  I like the riverside location we’re visiting.  Truthfully I have been there many times, but haven’t been in the seating section Bachelor #1 is referring to. Technicalities?  My specialty.The weather should still be unseasonably warm for a February in the south and as Bachelor #1 said in his email this morning “The sunset should be spectacular”.  Oh-la-la. And it’s just a happy hour.  Two drink maximum will definitely be self-imposed.

I know the other question that is burning in your brain is probably “What will she wear?”  I know this because before I could finish the sentence “I have a date!” to my boss/best friend, she immediately countered with “WHAT ARE YOU WEARING?!” We’ve determined that it’s an after work affair, and therefore denim is a no-go (J-Far, are you proud?).  I’ll be sporting black dress pants, a black blazer, heels, and a colorful silk scarf.  And a great big smile, of course.

So, readers, the bread-and-butter is about to start being served.  Are you ready?

Second verse, same as the first


A Jack Daniel's Tennessee Whiskey bottle Ţzâşj...
A little ditty about Jack..

I woke up on my Saturday-lite at 6:30 to a text message.  Most anyone wouldn’t text me that early.  I peaked with one eye–not an emergency.  Just an employee calling in sick–and it’s my day off.  I forwarded the text to some colleagues and went back to sleep.

I guess I was nervous because the night before, on my Friday-lite, my phone rang a couple of times with a number I didn’t recognize.  Too soon to be The Friend.  Two weeks…not eighty four days like last time.  I didn’t answer; the mystery caller didn’t leave a message.  Two times and it was through.

Still, I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t rest my mind early this morning without double checking.  A thought entered my mind.  I sat straight up in bed, nearly smacked myself in the head as I muttered “BACK UP ASSISTANT, YOU IDIOT!” and used the aforementioned back up assistant to roll my contacts list back to a state prior to the last change.  I couldn’t remember if I had made any changes since deleting The Friend, but it was worth a shot.  I answered the “simple” pin number question three times (it was not quite 7 am yet, okay?!) and finally, slowly, my Blackberry was backin’ that thang up.

But nothing.  I must have made other changes, or drunkenly run “back up assistant” to plan for this seemingly sudden stroke of genius nearly two weeks later.  Nothing.  So back to sleep at I went.

And at 9:45 the phone began ringing again, over and over, from private numbers, from regular numbers.  My heart raced, and I momentarily wondered if it was my mother delivering bad news from her typically-blocked-work-number.  I selected the last missed call from a known number, held my breath and dialed.

One ring.

Two rings.

Third ring.  Nobody’s going to answe—Hello?

A quiet voice.  Not a business, not my mom.  Before I can say “Who is this?” The Friend’s voice is made evident.

“What are you doing? Hey listen, my mother is calling, but I need you.  Let me call you right back.”

Before I could agree, he hung up. And I haven’t heard from him since.  If he was just seeing if I’d answer…he wins this round.

Sometimes, I look at myself, all caught up in a mess with The Friend, and can’t really remember how we even got to this point.  As The Killers are wont to say “it was only a kiss, how did it end up like this?” And for a long time I couldn’t remember how we even met.

But this weekend I went to a bar and suddenly had a flashback.

It was my sophomore year of college, and I was at a meeting for a random group with about 25 other people.  The meeting was droning on, and I think I had a glazed look on my face.  I tend to get like this, from time to time, when I am bored and out-and-out tired of the company I am keeping.  I realize it’s probably not polite, but if you lose my interest, my eyes glaze over, I start doodling random things, and usually I’ll mutter or roll my eyes if you keep pushing on.

That must’ve been what I was doing, because The Friend noticed right away.  And in the midst of my muttering, our eyes met across the table…holding the eye contact, he simply produced an airplane bottle of Jack Daniel’s from his sleeve and without saying a word, he unscrewed the top, and dumped it straight into my coke.  He took the straw, stirred it around and nodded at me as if to say “Is that better?”

I had seen him around, but never spoken to him.  I don’t know if I knew that I was attracted to him right away. He was wearing a suit and a tie, carrying a briefcase and seemed much older than me.  The fact that he carried airplane bottles of liquor intimidated me, actually.  I wasn’t 21 yet.  And the confidence he exuded as he poured the Jack Daniel’s into my cup without asking?  Did I ever stand a chance against him?

I don’t know, to this day, if he remembers our first encounter.  But there is an element of that first night in probably every interaction we have.  He’s always been in control, always had the upper hand.  Always had me on the line, waiting.

I’m not counting this one as a backslide.  I’m just going on with my day.

Anniversary Sch-man-iversary


Yes, today would have been a significant anniversary for The Boyfriend and me.  I have pondered posting on this day for a while now..I considered not posting.  I considered posting some horrifying tell-all.  Then, I realize that both of those things?  Just aren’t me.  So I thought maybe I’d just show you one of my most favorite moments from an anniversary past. Let’s go to the video tape..

So as you can see in the movie, it was our 5 year anniversary.  A pretty significant anniversary if I do say so myself.  And apparently I do say so myself.  We agreed months prior that instead of buying elaborate gifts for this anniversary we would each make something special to give to the other.  BIG MISTAKE.  While I thought long and hard about what I would produce, clearly The Boyfriend didn’t.  I collected beer caps, ticket stubs, confetti, and various other little symbols of an amazing year together (well, it seemed amazing at the time!) and he sat outside my dorm room and drew a graph on a sheet of yellow legal paper while I waited inside.  Interestingly enough, I still have the graph and the shadow box.  The shadow box never left my room. Here’s what the graph looks like:

This is what the graph said.

 

 

Lessons learned here?  Don’t make presents.  You’ll always end up having them sit around being useless.  Also, Econ majors are a special, special breed.

Maybe the bigger lesson is that we just weren’t meant to be.  The circumstances seemed so storybook on the outside.  We met as five-year-olds, he was my first crush, we were high school sweethearts, we dated through college.  Sometimes you want something to work so badly you just ignore the differences.  On paper, we were perfect.  In reality, we were a train wreck. No matter how hard we tried, we were always at cross-purposes.  He was a Bic pen graph.   I was a glassed-in shadow box.  I often felt like he was with my just to be with anyone.  I often felt like I was with him just to be with anyone.  And when the reality of it all was put out in front of me, I was always disappointed.  In me, in him, in us.  Sometimes I get nostalgic, lonely, sad about what I don’t have anymore.  But I just have to remind myself of these tiny incidents that along the way showed me that we were just too different.  I know that I let him down too.

Happy Un-Anniversary, Boyfriend.

Post Script: after writing this post I got to thinking about prior anniversaries and other gifts, and in the beginning he actually did make me a wonderful gift once.  So it’s not to say that he couldn’t make things, because he could.  He just chose not to that time. He was a good boyfriend, sometimes.  xoxo.