Tinder is the night… Oh boy!

Oh Tinder Tinder Tinder, our small little corner of the world where we continually subject ourselves to an onslaught of disappointment.  You know how easy it is to be a flaky cold fish when you don’t actually know someone, when you’ve never looked into their eyes and utter a single word to them?  It’s pretty easy.  There’s no liability what-so-ever when it comes to online dating.  You can, in a moments notice, decide to eh, screw it, I’ll just get a whiskey with my girlfriends because I KNOW they are gonna show up excited to see me.  The stakes of Tinder are literally zero.  No risk = no reward.  And Tinder perpetuates this with ease repeatedly.  If I don’t show up on this date, the likely hood of me running into this person and us remembering each other is slim to none, even in a small town.  I currently am matched with 87 men.  87!!  I don’t really even remember what the one I’ve been texting looks like and generally scroll back through conversations to remind myself of this guys name, job, location, etc.

Here’s a quick list of what I’ll generally swipe right to: tall, dark hair, built/broad, tattoos, some variation of artist or blue-collar, a pet dog.  It’s really that simple.  Here’s what EVERY guy in Austin wants to include in his bio: works out, likes live music, loves tacos.  WHICH IS EVERY PERSON IN AUSTIN.  Guys, I can’t even anymore.  LIKING TACOS IS WHO YOU ARE?!?!  I digress. I’ll get to their pictures later lord Jesus.

The aforementioned is what I typically find attractive but let me just tell you a bit about the past few men/boys/guys I’ve had feelings for listed most recent to… two years ago (ex included). 1)  tall, blonde hair, blue eyes, lean, no tattoos, intense, medic.  2) short(er), brown hair, eyes undetermined, ripped like a brick house, lots of tattoos, crazy fun person who worked a job.  3) short(er), blonde hair, brown eyes, built, no visible tattoos, dancer.  4) tall, dark hair, blue eyes, average build, no visible tattoos, hilarious comedian.  5) tall, brown hair, brown eyes, in shape, no tattoos, intense, consultant.  6) short(er), dirty blonde hair, bluest eyes, in shape, no tattoos, construction worker.

So the only thing any of these guys have in common is that I assume they’re all guys.  But that’s about it.  Four of the seven will never know that I loved them although I bet two have a pretty good idea.  One I knew for 12 hours, one for 5 minutes, one I dated for 6 years.  In chemistry, err relationships, an invisible force exists that will never been seen online, a certain I-don’t-know that connects people, encourages them to jump (into bed, out of it, into love, out of it) when a spark ignites.  That spark is why we hold ourselves accountable to someone else even if it is for just a moment, a day, or a year.  I’m dumbfounded by my own actions in the online dating world knowing full well that my “type” isn’t even my type at all.  It’s the idea of a type I’ve literally never dated.  Ok I did date my type once but it turns out that he wasn’t really my type at all.  I’ve discovered that my type is a feeling, a connection, a lengthy conversation, a smile, a sunset, a slow dance.  It’s why I’m 100% sure I will never meet him online (in the event I haven’t met him already).  But the pictures online are worth a thousand words so keep on Tinder-ing!!!

1. guy holding dead animal is always my favorite.  SO YOU’RE A KILLER?!?
2. guy pounding a beer.  (because whiskey is too hard to handle?!)
3. guy wearing a mask.  he puts the lotion in the basket.
4. guy selfie in the bathroom from below.  NO ONE, I repeat, NO ONE looks good from this angle.  I get it, you’re trying to look bigger than you are but again, we like all sizes so stop trying to be tall.  NO ONE CARES HOW TALL YOU ARE!!*
5. guy driving while taking selfie.  Ok, you got your license, great news.  NOW DON’T DIE WHILE DRIVING AND TAKING SELFIE!  you idiot.
6. guy selfie with resting bitch face.  Men, it’s ok to smile!  I promise you won’t emasculate yourselves by looking happy.

*ok, maybe it is ok to tell us your height if you are a small person in a big world or a big person in a small world.  There are longitudinal logistics that won’t always work.

Also, maybe stay away from men who post the following two photos on their page:

I’m gonna need a dessert in a skillet tonight!

“Everyone has a game plan until they get punched in the face.” Mike Tyson didn’t teach us much except perhaps this gem which sums up getting-out-of-bed as well as one can.

Today, I lazily roll out of bed 30 minutes past my alarm (The truly sad part of this story is that I now just set my alarm for 30 minutes early like a jerk when I could simply get 30 more minutes of sleep. Instead I’d rather roll around every 8 minutes and subject myself to the strangest dreams that often involve the most unappealing things imaginable. WHY?!) with the intentions of working out, meditating and drinking the first of 6 or so cups of tea. And yet if I actually accomplish the aforementioned, I will be so proud of myself that I’ll immediately scratch “paying bills” and “going to the post office” off my list and opt for a dip in the springs or just… I don’t know, how do we kill time?! Facebook? A kava binder? Playing dress up in our closets full of clothes we purchased on a whim and STILL have nowhere to actually wear them? I used to skim through Facebook so often that I knew when everyone else’s kids poo or started school or which friend was on which diet and who was now using Facebook to sell some new pills or cream or jewel etc. And I can’t anymore, I just can’t with any of it. I’m either incredibly jaded, enlightened, entitled, or a plain ole dick. I’m ok with being a plain ole dick. I think at 35 I’ve certainly earned the right! I’m getting away with myself…

So.. getting punched in the face. We’ve ALL been punched in the face and I’m sure most of us can admit to being punched in the face often times before we leave the house. Doh, that thing I forgot for that person, dammit I’m a jerkface!!! No matter how hard I try, I’ll never be the friend who gets your card in the mail, if at all. I’ll never mail the gift or flowers or money or present. I’m aware of this because I have a sister and a few friends WHO NEVER FORGET anything like this. Ever.  I’m working on it.

You know what my game plan was when I moved to Austin 8 months ago?  Here goes: move to austin, find an AWESOME job, sign with an agent, book an acting job STAT, make hundreds of amazing friends, obviously meet him and fall hopelessly in love, be super happy and world peace.  Guys, NONE OF THAT HAPPEN!!  I got punched in the face, the ovaries, the shins and probably on my left boob because that sounds like it would probably suck.

“Everybody has a game plan…” isn’t necessarily about having your day ruined or your month, your year, your decade.  It’s about being flexible and realizing that we only control so much of our lives, everything else is serendipitous or accidental or the predestined result of whatever religious figure you most align yourself with this year.  Or, I don’t know, just how exactly your life is suppose to go.  When I realized that nothing I’d planned for was panning out, I did what most semi-responsible mid-30 year olds would do; I drank a lot and spent money and made bad decisions and pretended like everything was fine (meanwhile in Pleasantville, I was having panic attacks).  SO… you start over.  You juice.  You do yoga.  You do it one day at a time.  You reflect.  You find your heart.  You locate your pain.  You go to therapy.   You follow the phases of the moon.  **Meanwhile, you continue making bad choices because this is how we learn.  We get back up and try again tomorrow.**  You spend time outdoors.  You set new goals.  You talk to strangers.  You scare yourself.  Again and again and again.  And you write (this blog for instance).  And you LOVE!  No matter how much any of it hurts.  Because you know that loving and loosing is moving through what once was and you know that what you’ll learn from this moment, this hell if you will, is going to inform and shape the person who walks out of this fire alive.  Because that’s the only possible solution to this madness.  And you do it one day at a time.  

Then you go to brunch with your friends and you order a funnel cake covered in Nutella.  Duh.