Usually I’m super content to fly solo, but this week I’m feeling really lonely. And really, not even in a romantic sense. I just miss my family. Like crazy.
So let’s go back to the beginning before we get to the date.
I met this guy in real life. Yep, you heard me: IN REAL LIFE. Can you believe it?! That still happens.
I went to a backyard BBQ on the west side of Chicago that was absolutely brilliant. The food was amazing, the weather was great and the company was fantastic, even before I met this tall drummer. It was just one of those nights that makes you think, “damn, this is what ‘summer memories’ are made of.”
So as I am enjoying the cocktails and authentic Spanish food, my friend (who had invited me to the party) brings over this tall guy and introduces us. We all three chatted for a few and then she left us to chat. It was really one of those class “hit it off” conversations.
There was plenty of friendly banter, lots of laughter and a bit of substance. We stood and chatted for about 30 minutes, I’d say, before he had to go inside to play the drums in the band that was playing at the party. I told you this party was rad.
If you know me, you know I dig drummers. Really, I dig any instrument players, but the drums keep the beat and I love the beat. So anyways, I just had this amazing conversation with this super tall babe, he leaves to go play the drums. I’m hoping to myself that he enjoyed the conversation as much as I did. Like I’ve said a million times, it’s not all that often that I meet someone I find interesting.
I sauntered around the party talking to everyone and enjoying the music. After the band was done, I saw him walk back outside and was hoping that he’d come chat with me again, but that didn’t happen. I found myself sitting around a fire talking with other really awesome people, so I mean, I really wasn’t fretting but I’d be lying if I said it wasn’t on my mind.
My friends and I decided to head home, and he had still yet to come talk to me again. I mean, I was thinking to myself, “I could not have completely misread that situation. We had great conversation, good chemistry and laughed a lot.”
You know me, rather than letting a potentially great opportunity pass me by, I took matters into my own hands…. kind of. Before we left, I went over and said it was great to meet him. If at that point, he’d not have asked for my number, I’d have let it lie. I’m only willing to do so much of the legwork.
Fortunately for me, he felt the same and he said, and I quote, “it was great to meet you. We should exchange contact information.” To which I said, “um, did you just ask for my contact information? What would you like? My fax number? Street address? or maybe you’d just like my phone number?” Like I said, we had great conversation with lots of banter. I had to take the chance to poke a little fun!
So I gave him my number… and that was that.
You can say I am officially back on the horse. Well, don’t read too much into that, because I haven’t been riding anything as of late… except bikes around the city… but yes, I’m back on the dating train.
I know, I know I keep saying that, but then I keep getting irritated. I know all you women can relate. It’s like, “whoa, I should totally be dating.” Then it’s like, “whoa, ew, nah, no thanks, rather be chillin’ with a book and wine at home.” It’s a tough little world out there…
Dating is actually not bad at all for me if I meet people in real life, but that just never ever happens. Well, hardly. It does… sometimes. But when it happens… they are 45, but that’s a story for another day.
I’d date this entire town if the men would ask me out IRL. I really just don’t love this whole Tinder, Hinge, other phone apps for dating. It’s just not that feasible for me.
It’s tough enough for me to meet a man who is gutsy enough in person, let’s think about how much harder it is to meet a ballsy man through a phone app. Yeah, it’s kind of hard.
Either way, I’m back in the game. I gotta find me a man with cable so I can lounge on his couch and watch football on Sundays.
Shouldn’t a 45-year-old know how to kiss by now?
My, my, my. How I have neglected you since my move to Chicago.
That will happen when you uproot your life completely and go try and establish a new one in a new city. A new amazing city, I may add.
So remember why I started this in the first place? So that I would actually date rather than just roll my eyes at men who approach me? Well… it’s become abundantly clear by my absolute lack of potential mates that I need to reignite my dating blog flame.
First, let’s start with my first Tinder date ever.
So, you guys know me. I tell anyone everything all the time. So, I have drinks with my co-workers and friends before heading down to Revolution Brewing for my date. This isn’t like the time I got wasted before a first date though, I really only had one or two.
So I walk into this bar.. I’ve never been there as I’m new in town. I walk in, I say I’m meeting someone, and I don’t know if they are here yet. It’s always so weird. Do I text and say “hey, I’m here?” or do I not. Can someone tell me what protocol is? Anyways, she said well what do they look like? To which I respond, “Umm…. I’m not really sure, I know he has really nice eyelashes.” Then she says, “Is this a tinder date?” And I’m like “OMG, yes, it is.. it’s my first one!”
So as I stand there talking to this girl about tinder dates, in this gentleman walks. I recognized him immediately from those eyelashes… THOSE EYELASHES. I told him that I just told the hostess that we were on a Tinder date, and she assured us that she was going to try to help us get seated quickly.
We went upstairs and grabbed some beers. It was pretty jammed… the wait was supposed to be around 45 minutes. Each time the hostess passed us she would do the “thumbs up/thumbs down?” motion. She was awesome. We only had to wait about 20 minutes before she found us a table.
Our conversation was good. I never can do first date conversation very well. We ended up talking about abortion, healthcare reform, and how his mom once gave away his dog without him ever saying goodbye. For your info, he’s never forgotten this act, but he has forgiven her.
So essentially, our date was good. I was having fun, we were laughing, everything was great, and I was going to go out with him again. Even though he wasn’t exactly my type. I forgot to mention that aside from the eyelashes, he was bald (which I kind of dig!) but he was wearing skinny jeans which is really not for me. Well, actually… it is for me. It isn’t for my potential boyfriend.
But anyways, so here’s where it all went downhill. I had to leave to go meet a friend, so he was like, “oh, let me walk you to the train station!” I thought that was great! Ok.. now is when it goes downhill. No sooner do we take one half step out of the restaurant, he whips out a cigarette. (Oh, also, we talked about how I hate cigarette smoking in our conversation) I was like eh, couldn’t you have waited? Like I mean… 4 more minutes?
Props to him for not making me sit and wait while he stepped out during the date, but it was just a total turn off. Then….
After the date, I really started to kind of analyze his behavior — you know, like everyone always does. Then I started to kind of tick off these boxes of his odd behavior… he was really twitchy, really talkative, sitting on his hands, rocking back and forth, etc. So upon further analysis, I think he was high on some sort of something….
Needless to say at this point, I never answered his call again. I know that’s a chicken shit move, and I shouldn’t do it, but I just couldn’t.
So anyways, that’s my first Tinder date. I’ll tell you about my other two soon… and then I guess I’ll start going on more.
What should I do? 20 dates in 20 weeks again?
I will not have my wedding music censored.
Before I begin blogging about all my latest and greatest dating (mis)adventures, I have to come clean about how stupidly I acted with Mr. Technical. It’s kind of embarrassing, but I try to be as honest as possible with you all so here goes.
I re-met him at the beginning of July. He is handsome — so fucking handsome. He has traveled; he has seen, done, experienced so many brilliant things. He’s educated and open-minded. He’s genuine. He admired things about me that no man has ever acknowledged before. He made me feel as though I was the only girl in the world who mattered to him. For about 3 fucking weeks.
Somewhere around the beginning of August, I knew it was time to cut ties with him. He made me second guess myself. He shamed me for my behavior while drunk, which to be fair, was not my finest moment but come the fuck on man, we all do it. He broke plans with me. He went MIA for days at a time. He ignored me when I wanted to talk to him. He said he’d be better; he wasn’t. He promised to come to events with me and would find an excuse every single time to get out of it. He would get weird texts in the middle of the night from other women and make me feel like I was crazy for asking who it was. He would go to events with a group of other people and only tell me a portion of who was there. He ignored me for days at a time but shamed me if I didn’t respond within several hours. He made me think I was demanding and unrealistic because I wanted a commitment from him.
And it worked. It all worked. I felt like I wasn’t good enough. Like I was this emotionally out-of-control woman who had no concept of what an adult relationship is. Like I was immature and “crazy.” Like I was constantly overreacting. Like I was jealous, obsessive, insecure.
You’ve probably already done the math. I said I met him in July and knew in August I should call it quits. So why am I just now writing this in March? Because I let it go on that long.
I let an unhealthy relationship go on because I was hoping it would be something more. I was in love with the idea of who he made me think he was. I ignored the reality of things. I let his thoughts and words into my mind, and I let them change how I felt about myself.
Somewhere in November, I came to the realization that if I was watching one of my friends do what I was doing, I would want to literally slap her, shake her, do anything I could to get her to understand that she was wasting her time.
I told him that we clearly had different ideas of what a relationship should be. I told him that my wants and needs were not met and it left me feeling drained and unhappy. I told him I wasn’t willing to listen to him say he was going to do better for months and months.
We’ve been speaking intermittently since then. I don’t believe he is a bad person, not at all. But I don’t think he’s as fantastic as I did. I’m no longer interested in him romantically. I don’t see a future with us. I’m indifferent now, but I wasn’t.
I was hurt, sad, mad. Mainly with myself. I don’t know how I ignored my gut and remained in such a fruitless situation for months and months. It’s seriously embarrassing. I give advice to all of my friends, and often times to people on Tumblr. p.s. keep asking because I’m great at advice when I’m not emotionally involved. Yet here I sat for months and months knowing nothing was going to change but hoping I was wrong.
Here I sat being in love with someone who made me feel like a lesser version of myself. Someone who didn’t value my feelings. Someone who never listened to me but always told me I was wrong.
I could go on for days about how the whole situation made me feel, but that’s not what is important. What’s important is that I learned from the situation.
I learned that the second anyone makes me feel lesser is not worth my time. I now know that when my gut says walk, it’s time to walk no matter how hard that is. I learned that when my basic wants and needs are not met, it’s not worth continuing.
Those lessons didn’t come easy. They didn’t come without tears and frustration, but they came nonetheless. And I’ll take them with me into my new foray into the dating world. I’ll be smarter next time.
As you may know, I recently uprooted my KC life to move to a bigger potentially better city. Yes, I’m still in the midwest… I couldn’t help but stay close to my fam.
Since my grand move a mere three weeks ago, I’ve spent much of my time eating pizza, drinking wine, watching House of Cards and Tinder-lining men up.
I’ve got a few dates I need to fill you in on. I think one guy was on drugs. This other one, well he clearly had some mad issues with death and fatal disease. Another guy, I kinda stood him up. I feel a little bad because I would have been bummed if it happened to me, but I’m starting to understand the guys that just fall off. I just didn’t want to say anything. I didn’t want to create a falsity to get out of it, and honestly do I really owe you that any way? I’ve never even met you, dude.
Well anyways, as I sit here in my new apartment… I’ve been spending at least one night in per weekend and maintaining a certain level of awareness while I’ve been out. I guess maybe, just maybe, I’m growing up a little bit. But EF that shit man, I’m still so young. But am I? Am I really?
This pizza- and mid-tier-wine-filled life is magical, but does it mean I’m kind of growing up? Is that what I want? Should I be raging until 4AM and waking up at 2PM? I just don’t know. I have the rest of my life to be grown up and figured out. Am I retiring too early?
It boils down to a couple of things: