Welcome to the Meat Market

Have you ever felt a bit like a pizza?  Like someone ordered you up, in a certain way, in order to fill one purpose and one purpose only: to satiate a hunger?  If not then you probably are not dating. Lucky you.

Online dating is a bit like ordering a pizza online.  Sure, there are lots of different sites to go to find that pizza you are wanting, and you can try going through the list of qualities you look for in a pizza, and pick out exactly what you want, but you can never be certain that the pizza that knocks on your door will be the one you want to spend your life with.  Or something like that.  Now I’m hungry, and not quite sure what I was getting at here.

Oh yeah, dating.  That’s it.  Lately, I have been the one who has been ordered up it seems by people I would least expect.  I am the pizza.  The problem with being the pizza, is that I can’t control who wants to order me, and what their reasons are for it.  I’m going to get off the pizza thing, because it’s starting to get weird, but what I’m trying to say is that lately, dudes from my past have been coming around, only wanting me to fill their hunger for sex, not their hunger to have a partner for the rest of their lives, and I’m wondering why the fuck that is.

Kevin, who I talked a bit about last week, is one of them.  I can never tell if he just misses me as a person, or as his partner, or just misses having a girlfriend in general, or if he misses me because he is horny, and I’m no longer there to satisfy that need for him anymore.  If I had to guess, I’d say it’s the latter, just because when he contacts me, he doesn’t tell me about how he misses me as a person.  Ever.  He tells me how he misses having someone in the house, or someone to spend time with all the time, and of course, he misses the sex.  But he has never said that he misses my laugh, or that he misses the conversations we had, that he misses my sense of humor, or the person I was when I was with him.  But he misses having sex with me.  That seems to be the only thing he misses about me. Or at least, it’s the only thing he misses about me that he has verbalized the most frequently anyways.

This past week I got another blast from the past in a big way. Friend Zone, who after a bit of thought I have decided to rename him Marty, because over the last few weeks I have grown increasingly frustrated with the concept of the dreaded friend zone, and the negative connotations it has against women, but that topic could (and probably will) be its own post down the road. Anyways, Marty for those who don’t remember was a guy I had met online almost 4 years ago when I still lived in Riverview, we went out a couple of times, and while he was an amazing guy, despite my best efforts to force myself to like him, I did not.  The shitty thing was that he really liked me, so I inevitably had to hurt him by placing him as gently as I could into the friend zone.  I also made the horrendous mistake of drunkenly sleeping with him on one of my last nights before moving to Lakeview.  Since I moved here we have seen each other a couple of times shortly after I moved, but I haven’t heard from him since before I met Kevin. Of course now that Kevin is out of the picture, all these guys are coming back out of the woodworks for me.

So I heard from Marty a couple of weeks ago, just to chat, and see how things were going.  It was all very normal, it was all very civil, and most importantly, it was all G rated.  Then I heard from him again this past weekend.  And it quickly turned from just regular chatting, to him talking about wanting to have sex with me real quick.  This is how the conversation went:



I felt like I was trying my best to not encourage him, while still remaining civil.


FullSizeRender (1)


Trying even harder to let him know I wasn’t interested in talking about this, without being a bitch.


FullSizeRender (2)



But then, he said that he wanted me to know I’m still desired.  And a part of me wanted to snap.  I mean, yes, thanks.  But I know I am desired.  I know that guys want to fuck me; I know that guys want to date me.  I’m not alone because nobody wants me; I am currently alone because the right person isn’t here to want me yet.  Since I broke up with Kevin there have been a couple guys that I could have dated just for the sake of not being single anymore.  But I have never been, nor will I ever be that kind of girl.  So I sent this message, and left that be that.

I don’t know guys, I’m not sure what else to do.  I don’t know how long I can do this for.  There isn’t even much more to say really.  I’m just so discouraged by everything.  And the worst part is, I don’t even have pizza here right now to cheer me up.



Another One Bites the Dust

“Knowing my luck in this department, I will be all kinds of alone again by Valentine’s Day.”


I am such a wise woman.  Or maybe I’m a psychic and I don’t even know it.  Or maybe I’m a pessimistic asshole who will always give herself depressing self-fulfilling prophecies.  Or maybe, just maybe, I know myself and the state of my dating life too well.

In any case, the truth of the matter is that Max and I are done.  We didn’t really have much to begin with, but he served a purpose.  At the very least he served as a good distraction, a reason to get dolled up, my ass off the couch, and out the door.  At the very most he was a reminder to me that Kevin is not the only guy out there who will ever be interested in me.  At the heart of it, Max was exactly what I needed him to be in the moment: a rebound.

Of course, that didn’t save me from being hurt just a little bit when a couple of weeks ago he had “the talk” with me.  He finally brought it up, which in a lot of ways was a relief, although I knew immediately that I was ultimately not going to be so thrilled with the outcome of the discussion.  He told me that he did really like me, that I was really awesome, and that he really liked how calm and non-crazy I seemed to be about everything (proof that he never read this blog).  He said he thinks I am a super cool girl, and that we have amazing chemistry, both sexually and otherwise.  However, with all the awesome that he thinks I am (which I am fucking awesome) he said that he doesn’t often think about me when we aren’t together, that he isn’t ever dying to see me, and at the end of the day, he doesn’t think that we should be in a relationship together (womp, womp).  So, there in his house, we sat on his couch, and agreed that for now we keep things as is.  Status quo and whatnot.  Which in the moment, there on his couch, I was fine with.

After all, I still was messed up over Kevin, I didn’t know what the fuck was going on with Erik, and I was still talking to a few other guys online.  Was I really in the position to get back into a relationship with someone?  No.  I didn’t think so.  So I did what any girl in my position would do.  I agreed to continue with this same dating scenario, had great sex with him, then went on my merry way.

But when I left his house, I felt different.  I didn’t have the euphoria that I usually felt when leaving his place after one of our dates.  I felt, I don’t know, empty I guess.  I felt like while he said he wanted nothing to change, I felt as if everything had.  He had essentially just friends with benefits zoned me.  Another guy that I liked had told me to my face that he didn’t like me enough to be my boyfriend.  I think I would have cried in the moment had I really realized what had happened.  In the moment I think my brain was instinctively protecting my already broken heart, kindly shutting off that part of my brain that would register what was actually happening.

After that I tried to be ok with the status quo.  But after that night, I barely heard from Max, and within a week, I hadn’t heard from him at all.  This radio silence meant one of three things: 1) He was dead.  2) He was in a coma.  Or the most likely one, 3) Having “the talk” and telling me that he liked me but doesn’t want to be my boyfriend and then ghosting the fuck out on me was his way of letting me down as gently as he could, while trying not to come off as an asshole.

Guys, let me tell you something: IT’S OKAY TO LOOK LIKE AN ASSHOLE FROM TIME TO TIME.  You fuckers telling us some bullshit about how you still want to spend time with us and then ghosting out on us doesn’t make you any less of an asshole. In fact, we think you are even bigger assholes, and we also think you are fucking cowards for not telling us the truth.   If Max would have just told me that he didn’t want to hang out anymore, would that have sucked? Yes.  But would I at least respect him a little more for telling me the truth, not leaving me wonder what the fuck happened, because he decided to have a pair of fucking balls? Absolutely.

So, I did the only thing I could.  I sent him a simple text saying that I have a feeling he isn’t interested anymore, so I’m giving him his space.  I told him that if he ever wanted to see me or talk to me again, that he knew where to find me, and I told him to take care.  That was a week ago, and I haven’t heard a single peep since.  Oh well.  C’est la vie I guess.  I wasn’t expecting him to be the one, I just liked him.  But looking back he served his purpose.  He helped me see the light after the darkness with Kevin, and for that I will always be thankful.

I was not however thankful for the absolute fuck show that last Wednesday turned into.  After I sent that message to Max, I got a text from Kevin.  Kevin it seems has a delightful knack of contacting me when I least expect it, and knocking me on my fucking ass.  By this time it was already 9pm, and to be honest, I had been an emotional basket case the whole day, because of the stuff with Max.  So when Kevin messaged me, at first just to chat, but then soon turned into him telling me he misses me, and wanted to see me, I was past the point of basket case.  At that point I was fucked right up.  Against my better judgment, I agreed to see him.  He came to pick me up and we went for a drive to talk.  This talk ended up just making me more confused.  Kevin cares for me, and some days he wants me back, other days he thinks that us being apart is the right thing.  And here I am in the middle of it all, not knowing what the fuck to think, how to feel, what to do. It’s been a week since that happened, and I still don’t know.

All I know is that I have to keep going.  I have to keep living any way I can, I have to keep dating, I have to keep kissing all these fucking frogs, hoping to find my prince.

I just wish it wasn’t such an incredible fuck show to find him.


Three Of A Kind

Men are a bit like a deck of cards.  You have your number cards, the 2’s through 10’s, the ones who you usually rely on to add up to something you need, even if they aren’t the best cards in the deck, you know they serve a purpose depending what game you play.  Then you have the Jack, the one who is so close to perfect, but you just can’t figure out how exactly to use him.  After that comes the King.  He’s arguably the best one.  He’s the one that in the game of life usually equals a winning hand.  Together with the queen (you are the queen of course) there is no game you can lose, especially if you are working together.  Sure, there is the Ace, which sometimes will trump the king, but that guy is so fickle, he’s perfect, almost too perfect, and you can never tell whether he’s going to be better than the king you have in your hand, or if he’s going to resort to being the lowest of them all.  And we can’t forget about the wild card – the Joker – who always seems to show up when you least expect him to, just to throw a wrench into things. Sometimes his presence is exciting, and you are so happy to have pulled that guy from the deck.  Other times, seeing him is just a stark reminder that you lose.

Now, I don’t know much about cards (in case you couldn’t tell from that previous paragraph) and I couldn’t win a poker game to save my life, due to the fact that I suck at card games and have no poker face.  But I do know a game I’m losing when I see one.

Right now I have a hand full of cards that I have no idea how to use to win the game.  I can’t tell the kings from the jacks, the 6’s from the 9’s, but I do have a joker in there, although I have absolutely no idea how he fits into this hand anymore.  In essence, this is just a longwinded way of tell you guys that I am fucked.

Since I don’t know exactly where to start, I guess I will just start with that Joker I’ve got.  A joker by the name of Erik.  Erik has always been the wildcard.  For as long as I’ve known him (which believe it or not has been a whopping ten motherfucking years already!) he’s been ridiculously unpredictable.  I never know when I’m going to hear from him, or when he’s going to pop out of nowhere. His presence always takes me by surprise.  With the exception of after a break up.  He’s fairly consistent with that.  When I broke up with Dave #4 a few years back, I started to hear from him regularly, and that break up directly resulted in me and Erik hooking up and becoming the epic FWB pair that has become this blog’s bread and butter.  So I was not surprised even the slightest when within two weeks of breaking up with Kevin, I started getting texts and Twitter DM’s from Erik, seeing how I was doing.  Over the last 4 months I consistently hear from Erik in one way, shape or form.  Including on New Year’s Eve, when he not-so-subtly brought up the idea of some long overdue benefits.  Since then, the random texts I get from him take a turn that way more often than not.  A couple of weeks ago, he texted me and things took that turn quicker than before.  Not only did they take a turn faster, but they also ended with something we hadn’t made in well over 2 years – plans to meet up.

I made these plans, but fully expected for the date to come and go without anything happening.  I have known Erik long enough to know that he has zero follow through, so I was expecting him to either forget that we had made plans, or to have had some else come up, or both.  So I was pretty surprised when I texted him the day before we were supposed to meet up, and he had not only remembered, but was going to follow through with the plans we had made the week before.  So we made plans to go to one of the most overpriced restaurants in the city (his idea, not mine, as I am poor as fuck, and ended up regretting adding the 10 dollar grilled chicken onto my 12 dollar Caesar salad) Before I got there, I wasn’t sure what was really going to happen.  From our texts a few weeks ago, I had the feeling that there was a chance that he was going to invite me back to his place, where all hell could break loose.  And I honestly wasn’t sure whether I wanted to do that or not.  The one part of my brain was screaming at me that nothing should happen, because Erik is so not to be trusted in that department, and hello! aren’t you dating Max?  But the other part of my brain was telling me that I am in fact a free woman until Max and I choose otherwise (although is there a certain point when you are dating someone when you are safe to assume that you probably shouldn’t be sleeping with other people, or is everything fair game until it is verbally agreed upon that you are monogamous?) and seeing as though I am still single, I shouldn’t feel guilty for hooking up with someone else.

At the end of it, it was all a moot point anyways, because as I was texting Erik to let him know that I was on my way to meet him, he accidently sent me a text that was meant for someone else, making plans with that someone later that night, the time of which depending on how long we were out for supper together.  Ah, classic Erik.  It’s nice to know that some things never change.  So I met up with him, we ate overpriced, overrated food; we chatted, had a handful of awkward silences, split the bill, and went our separate ways.  The night almost took a turn when we were saying goodbye, as we went in for a hug, he seemed like he was possibly going to kiss me, but I didn’t realize this in the moment, so I continued to go in for a hug as his kiss awkwardly hit my cheek.  We agreed to keep in touch, and that was that.  Or so I thought.

The next night, I had plans with Max.  It was the first time in almost three weeks that I had been able to make plans with him, as he was gone on a trip for a week, but I was starting to lose hope in the fact that he was still interested.  I have been trying not to text too much, to seem too eager, which I’m now wondering if it’s coming off as if I’m not interested anymore.  But he messaged me first, and wanted to make plans so I was happy about this.  We decided to go out for some pizza.  We decided to go to a place in town that has a good reputation for good pizza that neither of us had been to before.  Seemed like a great idea.  When I got to Max’s, I realized three things.  A) That I had actually missed him a little bit when he was gone B) that I was incredibly glad that nothing happened between Erik and I and C) that both of these things combined mean that I like this guy – a lot.

We chatted the whole way to the restaurant; everything was so easy that way with him.  We walked into this restaurant that was new to both us, and as we entered the hostess area, someone in the dining area caught my eye – Erik.  Yup.  Motherfucking Erik.  Now, this town is small by most accounts, but it is big enough that I have never, NEVER ran into anyone I’ve dated or slept with like this.  Not once. So not only is he there, but the hostess is seating Max and I at a table right next to him.  Luckily I saw him before he saw me, so I did some of my best acting, in pretending to be checking out the restaurant instead of catching his attention.  As I walked past his table to get to my seat, I heard him say my name.  I then proceeded to act surprised to see him.  I said a quick hello, and then sat down next to Max (I’m preparing my Oscar acceptance speech right now in my head for this performance).  Thankfully Erik didn’t stay much longer, him and the group he was with left about 20 minutes later, but in that 20 minutes I had to force myself to keep all my attention on Max and Max only.  Not only because I didn’t want to be rude to Max, but also because I wanted Erik to see that I’ve got other prospects.  I don’t want him to think that he is the only guy I have in my life.  He doesn’t need that kind of power.  Especially since he is always the one to go out of his way to contact me and be in my life, not the other way around, so perhaps I have a stronger hold on him than he either realizes or cares to admit.

Anyways, Max and I had a lovely evening together, the pizza lived up to its excellent reputation (and it was affordable to boot, for the same price of that Caesar salad the night before, I got three meals worth of pizza) and the conversation never faltered.  I like him. I really like him. And while I’m not sure whether or not Max is the king to my queen, another joker, or just another number in my hand, I’m enjoying playing the game right now anyway.

Well, that’s all for this week.  I have more to write about, but unless this piece is 6000 words long, I don’t have the time for it today.  Plus, I like making you bitches feel the need to come back next week!




Crash and Burn

Two years ago tomorrow.  Two years ago tomorrow, my life changed forever.  I let someone into my life and my heart, I let them take some of my walls down, and I gave them all the love I had.  I changed, for better or for worse.  In many ways I am a very different person than I was 2 years ago. Tomorrow we would have been together 2 years.  That was the anniversary I was supposed to be celebrating this week. I had been counting down the months, and had been so excited to celebrate a 2nd anniversary.  I have never celebrated a 2nd anniversary before.  I thought for sure that this would be the second of many anniversaries ahead. Alas, my illusive second anniversary will have to wait.  Instead, I am debating if I should call in sick to work tomorrow so that I can sleep the day away, preferably going the entire day without talking to anyone.  Sure, it’s been 3 months almost to the day since we broke up, and yes, in many ways I have moved on.  But it still hurts.

In these last 3 months I have had more than enough time to analyze (and over analyze) every detail of my failed relationship.  It hasn’t always been pretty.  This road has led me to some very dark places.  But after all this hurt and darkness, I’ve come upon a conclusion.  If I had the chance to go back in time, if Doc and Marty came to me and got me into the Dolorean, and we went back to 2 years ago from today, to the day before Kevin and I met, I would just sit back and watch.  I wouldn’t step in and prevent my past self from making plans to meet him.  I wouldn’t stop me from going on that first date, or from falling so hard in love with him.  I would sit back and watch me move in with him, even though I now know that we probably did that way too soon.  I’d watch as we fought, then made up.  I’d be a fly on the wall during the birthdays, holidays, parties, family times and times with friends.  I’d relive our camping trips (and our adventure on the party barge, which will forever be emblazoned on my brain) I’d sit and watch TV with us during our many quiet moments together.  I’d smell all the meals we made together; I’d laugh at all of our jokes, and at the times when we were being goofy together. I’d see the times we made love, and remember how good it felt to be so close to him in that way.  I’d watch him leave for work time and time again, and I’d watch him always come back to me after long periods apart.  I’d watch and try to remember what it was like to have him hold me, and kiss me, and make me feel so loved, so secure, so safe.  I’d pay careful attention to all the wonderful things he did for me or said to me, and try to forgive him for the not so wonderful things.

And then when the time came, as hard as it would be, I’d quietly watch as it dawned on me that our relationship had changed and we were falling apart.  I’d sit there and watch my heart break as Kevin tells me that he is no longer in love with me.  As hard as it would be, I would let things play out as we decided it was best that we break up.  And I would be there to watch as I packed up all my stuff, and left.  I would watch it all; I’d experience it all over again, all the joy and all the pain, without altering anything.

Not only because I’ve seen Back to the Future about a thousand times and know that changing things could lead to DIRE CONSEQUENCES or, lead to me being super rich and famous (damnit!), but because every moment of those 21 months were worth preserving, even if they ended in pain.

I’m a different person than I was 24 months ago.  Being with Kevin changed me.  And for what it’s worth, I’m better off for having gone through all that.  I know a little bit more about myself now, and I am glad to see that I am strong enough to walk away from something that isn’t working, even if I don’t really want to.  I have always said that I’d rather be single than in a relationship with the wrong person, and I’m glad that when it came right down to it, I wasn’t full of shit on that point.  Because I am worth so much more.

I deserve to have a man who will know without a doubt what he has when he has me, and who thanks his lucky stars that he found me.  I deserve a man who knows that I have flaws, but that he does too, and that we help each other out where we need to.  I deserve a man that will always love me, and will believe me when I tell him that I love him.  I deserve a man who will one day want to marry me, and have kids with me, and will want to grow old with me.  I deserve love. Life changing, soul sweeping, head over heels, ass over teakettle love.  And I deserve all this with a man who deserves all of this too.

Maybe Kevin deserves all of that too, but not from me.

So Kevin, if you are reading this (I have a sneaking suspicion that you still venture to this part of the internet from time to time) thank you for the last two years.  For better, or for worse, these last two years have been some of the greatest years of my life.  And even though our time together didn’t end like I was hoping it would, I am glad you were once such a big part of my world.

Maybe tomorrow I will go to work anyways and be with the land of the living. Maybe instead of drowning in my sorrows, I’ll do something nice for myself, and give myself the anniversary I deserve anyways. Or, maybe I’ll just get trashed after work and watch a Iron Man and then call in sick on Friday. So many options. 

And to my readers (all 5 of you) thanks for letting me spend yet another week going on and on and on about Kevin.  I will try to get some new shit to write about one day.  After all, now that I’m single and dating again, there are bound to be entertaining stories on the way!



Kicking My Heels

Holy balls, it’s 2016.  I hope you all had a lovely holiday season. My Christmas was good.  I ate way too much as one does, I had a respectable, some would say almost modest amount of wine and spent some very nice time with my family.  All in all, it was a fantastic holiday.  I hit a minor bout of holiday depression in the early evening on the 25th, as family pictures were being taken and it dawned on me how alone I was. Seeing my step-siblings get nice family pictures with their wives/husbands and their kids, while I just got my “family” picture sitting by myself, nearly pushed me over the edge. I was trying my hardest to smile instead of burst into tears. That was far from how I wanted that day to go, but you know, oh well I guess.  I had a similar experience about a week later on New Year’s Eve as the clock hit midnight, wiping away all the good and bad of 2015, I looked around the room I was in, only to see 3 other couples happy, hugging and kissing their way into 2016.  I on the other hand, swigged my wine back, and hoped like hell that this year would be better.  Almost 2 weeks into the year and I am now back to reality, back in my protective single girl bubble, back to work, and back to my fairly uneventful life.

I say fairly uneventful, because as always, the one area of my life that is far from boring is the wonderful world of dating.  For better or for worse, a single girl’s best friend can sometimes be the craziness and unpredictability of what dating will throw your way.  Between the messages from guys who neither read your online dating profile nor care to, and the guys who CANNOT take the motherfucking hint (ie: I am not responding to your initial message of “Hi” because from what I see on your profile we aren’t right for each other as you say you are looking for a hook-up only, which I am so very not into at the moment, so yes please spend the next 6 weeks messaging me without any response, and then call me the stuck up slut for not contacting you. That’ll change my mind.) to the guys that don’t seem to have the most basic concept of the English language (guys whose first and only language IS English, by the way) to the always classy guys who start a conversation by asking if I want to bang, or by complimenting my tits. Don’t get me wrong, I take that as a compliment none the less because my tits are wonderful, but call me old fashioned when I think that that compliment should be reserved for after I start dating someone, not several nopes before.  Never mind the horror that is the guy who you actually know, have met before in a completely non-dating way who messages you on the dating site with an “Oh hey, remember me?” Internet dating is an interesting thing my friends.

But the internet is not the only place where things get a little hazy.  In fact, I still have yet to meet anybody new since Max and the 3 not-so-muches from my last post.  Max and I are still seeing each other, quite regularly actually, and so far things are going good.  Very good.  So good in fact that I am terrified to have the “what are we to each other?” talk that I know we should probably have sooner than later.  But I figure the longer I put it off, the longer Max and I can stay in this awesome little place, and I can continue to be happy for a little while, in case Max doesn’t feel the same way about me. I’ve been down that unrequited love thing once already in the last few months, I don’t think I could handle another situation like that right now.  At a certain point, you start to take it incredibly personally. So for once I’m more than okay being in this casual dating/relationship limbo.

Speaking of unrequited love, the good news here is that each day I think of Kevin less and less.  Once in awhile I catch myself wondering about him, or thinking about our relationship.  I sometimes play pieces (both the good and the bad) of our relationship over and over in my mind, but even that is becoming less frequent.  When I first met Max, I thought my baggage from Kevin was going to trickle into my new dating life. And at first, it did.  I would compare the two, and think about how things would be different if I was on that date with Kevin instead of Max.  During those first 2 or 3 dates I felt incredibly guilty, because even though we had broken up months before, I still felt like I was being unfaithful to Kevin somehow.  Now it’s the opposite.  When I saw Kevin a couple days before Christmas to pick up some of my mail that got sent to his house, I thought about Max.  I wondered how he would feel if he knew that I was over at my ex-boyfriend’s house.  I felt incredibly guilty, because even though Max and I have never discussed being exclusive, and even though Kevin and I did absolutely nothing but talk, I felt like I was being unfaithful to him.  I usually hate feeling guilty, but in this case I am glad that I did.  I think it’s a definite step in the right direction.

A step in the wrong direction however presented itself over the last couple of weeks.  A wrong direction by the name of Erik.  Now, Erik as my most loyal of readers will remember, was my Friends With Benefits (or FWB) from about 3 years ago, who I hooked up with for about a year, fell for him a little bit (or a lot, whatever), moved cities theoretically to be with him, which of course blew up in my face when he shot me down, and broke my heart.  Over the years we’ve still kept in touch, reconnecting once every few months on Twitter or Facebook, just to say hi, nothing more, nothing less.  Well low and behold, not more than 2 weeks after I had broken up with Kevin and had moved into my new place, guess who I heard from?  Yup, you guessed it, Erik!  He told me how sorry he was that Kevin and I broke up, and blah, blah, blah, he wants me to be happy, blah, blah, blah, and now I hear from him fairly regularly. Including on New Year’s Eve, when a seemingly innocent wishing of a Happy New Years, turned into a very flirtatious round of messaging that sorta ended with a proposition to one day get together for some long overdue benefits.

Don’t fucking judge me!!  I know!!  I should never have let it get to that point.  I know better!  But I’m going to go ahead and blame holiday depression on this one!  I couldn’t even help myself. It felt like such familiar territory.  This is exactly what happened the last time I went through a break up.  I fell down Erik’s rabbit hole (that sounds way worse than it actually is) and lost myself in the comforting embrace of having a really good FWB. So sue me if doing that again after this break up would make me feel better. Luckily, I knew in the moment that what I was doing (or thinking of doing rather) was wrong, so I reached out to Annie, who I knew would kick my ass up and down the block if I went down that path again.  Thank fuck she answered her phone and told me exactly what I needed to hear: don’t. you. fucking. dare.  So I didn’t.  And I can say with 95% certainty that I won’t.  While I know it would probably be fun, and hot, and seeing as though I am still technically single, and completely at liberty to do what (and who) I want, it would be something that I know I would regret forever, especially since it would definitely change things between me and Max one way or another.  And right now, that is a mistake that I simply don’t want to make.

But if things with Max and me go down the shitter, don’t be surprised if there is an FWB post in my future.

Ok…..now you can judge me.  Cause I judge me too.

Hasta la later blueberries!


Different Days

T’was the night before Christmas and all through the suite, not a creature was stirring, but I so had cold feet.

The Netflix fire was roaring, and the wine had been poured, the gifts were all wrapped, and were properly stored.

The turkey had been eaten and stuffed to the tits was I, and yet the thoughts of this year, still brought a tear to my eye.

For my heart had been broken, and still had not mended, so many of my thoughts in text were not sended.

So here I sit thinking, laptop in lap, writing this blog while I drink what’s on tap.

I think of this year, all the time that I’ve blown, as I drink not so merry, to a Christmas alone.

I hope you all enjoyed my lovely little Christmas poem.  That bad boy took me quite some time to think up.  I hope all your festivities were wonderful.  So far mine have been alright.  Just so you know, I am writing this Christmas Eve, partly to get a jump on this, because I really want to have a post for next week, and the next few days are going to be busy, and partly because I’m a bit depressed all of a sudden and I feel the need to get things off my brain before I go to bed.

Now, usually at this point every year on the blog I give you guys (all 5 of you) a recap of my year.  This in hindsight is fairly pointless to do, because if you are reading every post, you already know how my year has gone for the most part.  It took me 3 years to come to this conclusion.  Holy fuck I am slow.  So this year, I have decided to cram all of 2015 into one sentence.  Basically all my year included was Kevin, Kevin going many many miles away for work, our relationship deteriorating, our relationship ending, I’m single and dating again.  There you have it ladies and gents, my year in a nutshell.

Instead, I think I’d rather tell you about my December, because that I think has more going on, and frankly I think I have dedicated more than enough blog space to getting everything out about mine and Kevin’s relationship and where I go from there.  But I know that what my 5 readers are really interested in, is my new single world, which so far, I’ve been very vague about.

So without further ado, I give to you ladies and gentlemen, Olivia’s Newly Acquired (and Not at All Wanted) Single Girl Life!  Hooray! In my last post, I mentioned that I am in fact back out in the world of dating.  At the beginning of December I put myself on the Tinder machine (which actually was not nearly as ridiculous as everyone makes it out to be) and back on the dating site I was on prior to meeting Kevin (which is exactly as ridiculous as I remember it being.) Since the beginning of December, I have met 4 guys.  There was the farm boy, who was nice, but we just didn’t have much of anything in common.  Then there was the film geek who I had a bit more in common with, but he came off as a bit pretentious, and to be honest I kinda only wanted to meet him because he met Neil Patrick Harris, and yes that impressed me.  And of course as is the case with all things related to online dating, the last in the line up was The Bummer.  The guy who despite being a well intentioned man, was clingy, and needy, and came on way too strong for someone who only met me for a 45 minute coffee one time. He literally did not leave me alone for weeks, even after I explicitly told him that I wasn’t interested in him. I even told him I was interested in someone else.  And it still took me a week of not replying to his messages, and finally sending a much more rude text than I ever like sending before he finally got the hint.  But in life, I have learned that it can’t all be sunshine and lollipops in the world of dating.  Sometimes a bummer rain must fall.

The good news here is that through the bummer rains shone a rainbow.  A rainbow by the name of Max.  Now, Max and I met for drinks at the very beginning of December. He was the first guy I agreed to meet with since Kevin.  And I was nervous as hell. I had to fight every single urge inside of me that was saying I should cancel, get back into my pajama pants, get back on the couch, and cry myself through the next 6 months. I am so glad though that I went. We hit it off right away.  He’s interesting, and intelligent and open minded.  He has a sharp wit and a great sense of humor.  He is kind, and caring, sweet and thoughtful.  He is just my type physically. He even grew up in a small hick town not too far away from the small hick town I grew up in.  We clicked.  But I still felt weird.  It felt so odd to be out with a new guy.  I didn’t want him to kiss me goodnight, because I honestly didn’t know how I felt.  So I was more than ok that he didn’t.  But when he said he wanted to see me again, soon, and I got excited about it, I knew that there might be something there.

The second date was even better than the first.  This time, we went to a nice restaurant, and then we went to the arcade.  It was the first time in a long time since I have had that much fun on a date.  Usually the dates that I go on consist of meals, drinks, maybe a movie.  And I usually have to plan it all (which I fucking hate doing).  But Max planned everything. He took the lead, he put thought into what we were doing, which in my books is romantic as all hell.  And he came to play.  We didn’t just play skeeball (although I fucking love skeeball) we played Tetris and pinball, I kicked his ass at the racing game, and he even went toe to toe with me for a couple sweaty rounds of Dance Dance Revolution.  It was fun.  More fun than I’ve had in awhile.  We took a snowy December night walk to a coffee shop afterwards, and when he walked me back to my car, I felt butterflies.  He kissed me goodbye that night.  It was wonderful.  It was perfect.  And when I got into my car, I cried.  Like a god damned baby.

Kissing Max was amazing, the whole night was amazing. But that kiss was just a reminder that I was dating again, and that Max for better or for worse, was not Kevin.  Not that I wanted to be back with Kevin, just that I was starting over again, and back in that uncertain place that came with being with someone new.  Since that night Max and I have been seeing quite a fair bit of each other, and the dates have been a fantastic mix of exciting and low key. The kisses keep getting better and luckily there haven’t been any more tears afterwards. 

I don’t want to get too far ahead of myself when it comes to Max though.  I like him a lot, and truth be told I really would like it if we continued to see each other, and as of right now that looks like that’s a real possibility.  But I’m not holding my breath, nor do I dare call him anything other than just a guy I am hanging out with for now.  I mean for fuck’s sake, I thought Kevin and I were a lock after almost 2 years, and look how that went down. So I am not going to jump the gun and call Max my boyfriend until I know for sure.  Knowing my luck in this department, I will be all kinds of alone again by Valentine’s Day.  All I can do right now is keep doing what I’m doing with Max, and hope for the best.

Well, that’s it for 2015 blueberries.  I hope this year has been good to you.  It has been interesting to say the least for me.  I have had so many great times this year, but at the same time it has been one of the hardest years of my life.  Here’s hoping next year is all the good, without the bad.

Oops, my wine glass is empty, and it’s officially Christmas now, so I guess I should put the wine and laptop away and go to bed.  Happy everything guys!! Here’s to the best of 2016’s!



Shake It Out

After a big loss (such as a break-up), it is very easy to fall into a rut. When that pain hits you like a freight train and knocks you on your ass, there isn’t much to do but put yourself into a sort of coma to help ease the pain. For me, I wallowed in private. I forced a smile and laughter around others, and then when I got home at the end of the day, I got into my pjs, sat in front of Netflix and cried. Lots. And often. Once the initial shock of the break-up passed and I was no longer suffering through my break-up induced hunger strike (I wanted to eat but just couldn’t without wanting to throw up) I added diving into ice cream and expensive Australian cookies head first (thank you Nate for that.) into the mix. Which is great, because I don’t want to wear pants anyways, so it helps that my ass no longer fits in any of my pants.

While I was busy growing my ass, I spent weeks replaying the entire relationship over and over in my brain. And in doing so, I overanalyzed every detail as well. What did he really mean when he said that? Why did he do that then? What could I have done to have prevented this? When exactly did he realize he no longer loved me? Was he wanting this to end ages ago and just couldn’t bring himself to dump me? I had all the questions in the world, and not a single answer to be had. Kevin was absolutely no help. He was still 3000kms away at work and even more incommunicado than he was before we split. I thought that when I saw him again in person that that would help clear things up.

I was wrong.

When he got back a couple weeks ago for his days off, he texted me, and we talked for a little while. We made plans for me to stop by the house one day to pick up some of my mail, and some other things I missed in the packing and moving frenzy that was me moving out. So the day after our text conversation, I went over there to do just that. And it was weird. So weird. Even pulling into the driveway was weird. Ringing the door bell instead of walking right in like I had done every single day for pretty much the entire 2 years we were dating was weird. The house itself hadn’t  changed at all. Kevin himself looked the same. And yet I was acutely aware of the fact that everything was different. And being in that house with him without being his girlfriend was the weirdest and hardest thing of all.

I stayed there a little longer than I should have, but we talked a little, and I got some more stuff off my chest that I have been holding in for the last month. He finally acknowledged that the distance put between us by his work was a contributing factor to our break-up (which I desperately needed to hear for my own sanity), and we both agreed that neither one of us worked hard enough on the relationship both while he was gone and especially when he was home. There was a lot more that we could have done together to make this work. It was good to talk all of that stuff out, even if I didn’t get all the answers I want. I don’t think I ever will. 

When the conversation turned into “things I can’t let go, but we’ve already talked about in great detail” I decided it was time for me to go back to my new house. When I went to leave, he asked for a hug, which I obliged to. Just so you all know, hugging your ex boyfriend whom you still have feelings for is the most incredibly confusing thing in the entire world. On one hand it felt so natural, so comforting. He smelled the same and felt the same, and part of me would have stayed there in his arms forever if I could have. But the other part of me, the smart, logical me, was screaming at me to let him go and walk the fuck away. “STOP HUGGING HIM. THIS HUG DOESN’T CHANGE ANYTHING. HE IS STILL THE ONE WHO SMASHED YOUR HEART TO A MILLION PIECES NOT MORE THAN A MONTH AGO. WALK. THE. FUCK. AWAY.” Luckily I listened to the logical part of my brain, pulled away from him, said goodbye, and went home. Be proud of me you guys, I didn’t shed a single tear till I got into my car. Look how strong I was. Don’t focus on the fact that when I got to my car I blubbered like a fucking baby. Just focus on the fact that I waited.

Now, through the fog of all of this break-up bullshit, I’ve been incredibly lucky to have the clarity and perspective that only your most outspoken family members can have. That weekend I went to visit my dad and step-mom, and had a long conversation with them about my relationship and break-up with Kevin. My dad, never being the kind of guy to sugar coat a situation, gave me the best perspective of things. Actually, my dad has been incredibly supportive this whole time. We’ve always been fairly close, but the day Kevin and I broke up, he surprised me by calling me right away, and helped me so much in the days following when I was trying to get my shit together.

And, it was my dad that convinced me that it is time to move on. What he said to me was simple: if Kevin and I are meant to be, we will find a way to be together regardless of our circumstances down the road and if we aren’t meant to be, then we won’t. It’s really that simple. But in the meantime, I can’t just sit around and put my life on hold to find out. He doesn’t want to see me waste more time wallowing over a relationship that is over, and over a man who didn’t love me enough to keep me in his life.  My dad suggested I get out and start meeting people again.

So, I thought about it and figured he was right. I could waste the next 6 months being sad and just sitting around waiting till I think everyone thinks it’s the time for me to be ready to date again, or I can go and meet people and maybe figure that shit out for myself. So that’s exactly what I did. Sure, it could be too early, but I need to be the one figuring that out, and I’m never going to do that sitting on the couch every night. And let’s be real here, the only person who I am concerned with thinking I’m moving on too soon is Kevin. I’m worried that it’s going to hurt him if I move on right away. Which is fucking insane. He let me walk out of his life, he made the consious decision to make me single again. If he didn’t want me to date someone else, he shouldn’t have let me go. 

So I did what any single girl in my position would do: I signed up for online dating. It’s only been a week, so it remains to be seen what the future holds for me. Luckily I was such a pro at the online dating thing before Kevin, that I have hit the ground running. The game is the same, but some of the guys have changed. I’m older now, and looking for older guys, which weeds out a lot of douchebags. Of course I’ve already been called a fucking slut because I wasn’t replying to messages in a timely manner, by an immature 30 something asshat who should have his wi-fi privileges revoked. But overall, the experience has been ok. So far I have only met 2 guys, one of which is actually pretty damn awesome, and have plans with 2 other guys later this week. But make no mistake, I have absolutely no intentions of sleeping with anyone yet, I’m taking that part of dating as slow as I can. But I’m having fun. It’s nice to talk to guys again. It’s nice to flirt. It’s nice to get butterflies in anticipation of meeting someone new and it’s nice to be taken out on an actual date. I forgot how much fun the dating part can be.

I still miss Kevin and I probably always will, but it’s time to get on with my life. Because I’m just too fucking awesome to let my life pass me by.

Catch ya later blueberries.