The rabbit hole of OMGIMGONNADIEALONE!!

So… you know how when you get a virus or a lump and you start searching online for any and all medical advice and somehow fall down the WedMD rabbit hole and suddenly realize that you have stage 4 brain cancer and have 2 weeks left to live?  Well!!  The same thing happens when you start researching “dating” in your mid 30’s.  These are a few of the headlines I found:

1. After 35, you don’t get to be picky.
2. Why I’m okay being single.
3. Do men really want to date women in their 40’s?
4. The dating pool at 30:  (insert photo of mostly empty pool with green sludge floating in the bottom).
5. 9 mistakes you make in your 30’s
6. Larger dating pool means less thoughtful mate choices
7. Dating in  your 30’s: The Ticking Clock

The struggle is real.  I’ve been dating for less than 2 months.  Specifically I’ve gone on exactly 6 dates which was enough for me to realize that it’s excruciating!!   I would gladly throw in the towel but I paid $150 to fall in love and therefore feel this extraordinary sense of obligation to “see it through” because it worked for so and so.

Every one couples up in their 20’s, I did, and is mostly still happily married in their 30’s (SPOILER ALERT: I never got married, I got single).  Essentially I have to wait until my 40’s to start meeting age appropriate divorcees who are recently single again.  “Oh you’ll die when you see how dating has evolved from 2o years ago” says me in 10 years while explaining the now forgotten Tinder app.  The 30’s dating pool is Moses wandering through the desert for 40 days and 40 nights chasing one mirage after another.  When you get up close you realize he’s 25.  Or unavailable.  Or married.  Or crazy.  Which has me wondering, what the hell do people think about me and why I’m single??

LOL!!  Just kidding.  I don’t care. I’m sure most people either think, 1) gah dating most be horrible, how sad to be all alone, or 2) SHIT, I’d give anything to be single again and do whatever I want and sleep in for once and eat in quiet.  This is the greener grass theory.

Truthfully, I try NOT to drive my friends crazy with this, this, this…I don’t know, lack of attachment mostly because they’re all either planning their nurseries or their weddings and if they aren’t planning that, they’re changing diapers and going to bed pretending to have a headache.  Or they’re out doing the same things I’m doing: online dating or waking up after a night of too many whiskies and not enough food.

Why do we do it?   Why do we drive ourselves crazy trying to fit into any box, be it the single box or the married box?  Each, depending on the day and the person, have their ups and downs.  But we put this countless pressure on ourselves to be taken (not in the Liam Neeson sense…or maybe in the Liam Neeson sense??) or loved and at the end of the day there are many people waking up next to someone still feeling lonely.  Attachment doesn’t always mean love.

I decided to online date because, in truth, I want to have babies.  All the babies!!  And of course I want to find my lobster. But dating, I have discovered, does not make me happy.  It does not fill any “void” or sense of loneliness or sense of togetherness or accomplishment.  I do not feel power or strength from being a single person who dates.  SO… I guess with that said, I’m going to do me.  You do you, girl!!

Match.con

Ah a new year, a new opportunity to practice vulnerability, a time to put yourself out into the dregs of online dating and wait.  And wait.  And wait.  Here’s a quick run down of what 90% of match profiles will tell you about humans in Austin:

1. They love to run.
2. They love their dogs.
3. They are very healthy.
4. They love live music.  And tacos.  And running.  And biking.  And travel.  And snowboarding.
5. They are ALL outgoing and up for an adventure.
6. They are all funny and romantic and enjoy long walks in nature.
7. They all mostly love their careers, work hard, feel successful, I digress.

Here’s my rebuttal to your boring perfection:

1. I hate to run.  Like HATE to run.  Unless its for my life.  Or chocolate.
2. I’m only so so healthy.  I eat good.  I’ll order a salad.  And a side of fries.
3. I am totally up for an adventure, especially one outside of downtown Austin.  Rebel.
4. I don’t have a career.  I have passions I work hard at daily and a school schedule in which I prepare for but I currently work at a bar.  That is not my career. That is the vehicle which affords me the opportunity to pursue the things I love.  So please don’t ask me what my real job is.  I had a “real job” for 12 years and decided it wasn’t for me.  I’m flexible.
5. My dream job on the other hand, pool shark.  Or poker shark.  Fuck it, SHARK!
6. I legitimately am spontaneous but not at the risk of my job or learning or art or Game of Thrones.
7. I am also somewhat of a perfectionist who probably has unhealthy expectations of people.
8. I enjoy being alone ALOT and often think that if had I unlimited wine, jazz and a scribe, I could be alone forever.
9. Fact:  if I ever learn your first and last name, I will google you.
10. My room isn’t always clean.  I’m so carefree and spontaneous there are clothes on my chair, so wild I left a glass of water on my night stand for an entire day.

Because all those are truths too.

Crazy is as crazy dates!

We all have that friend who constantly dates the crazies!! My wonderful friend (who I won’t name) could’t get away from them.  Each time he met a new lady we all knew she was going to be crazy.  And most of them never let us down.  Why?  Well… hate to say this but crazy is as crazy dates.  My friend is one of the biggest hearted men I’ve met.  He’s sensitive, artistic, creative, musical, funny and also a little bit insane.  But show me an artist who isn’t and you’ll show me a liar.  Artists of all kinds are forced to reckon with themselves daily; unearth their demons, face their fears, put themselves out there in a way most folks shudder to think of.  Artists are constantly putting our hearts into the universe to be judge and thrown back in our faces.  Becoming that raw in art, in life or in love will leave you in a particularly touchy place.  If you’re ever been inclined towards anything on the negative or depressive end of nature, art will make you crazy.  This is exactly why most artist need a great therapist; to stay afloat when everything is trying to drown you, when looking in the mirror is a horrifying endeavor.  When we find similarities in others we recognize in ourselves, we understand that, it’s comforting, it makes you feel less crazy.

I recently started questioning my “choices” in crazy because for some reason, like most of the “men” in my life, I couldn’t escape the crazy.  Finding another crazy, or someone more inclined to crazy than myself, is always SUPER FUN!  And I mean that very genuinely.  Of course crazy comes in an array of colors but crazy in and of itself is still a duck.  My particular crazy at this particular time came in the shape of a Mexican stand off between where I wanted to go and the paralysis I faced in simply getting out of bed, his was a super healthy id and a super delusional ego.  Or scratch that, verse it.  I digress…

So…it came at almost no shock to recently discover that I’m for sure 100% crazy.  Not in the I’m-gonna-drive-by-your-house-crying variety or even of the Facebook stalking variety and most certainly not in the I’ll-jump-from-this-roof-if-you-don’t-love-me crazy.  But crazy in my definition of love.  Love to me is easy (of course I know it isn’t all easy but for the sake of falling into love, it should be pretty damn easy).  It just is.  It’s uncomplicated.  It’s either yes or no.  Sure it hurts and it’s scary and it’s often times incredibly confusing but when there exists the possibility of love, then love it is.  But we complicate the shit out of everything else so why not a basic emotion as well.

Love has taken on an entirely new identity.  Love isn’t just holding hands and sharing an ice cream sundae anymore.  Love is THE REST OF YOUR LIFE AND OMG AM I READY FOR THIS AND IF NOT THEN I NEED TO DECIDE RIGHT NOW ON OUR FIRST DATE OR ELSE ILL MAKE AN EPICALLY BAD DECISION THAT’LL RUIN MY LIFE AND ANY OTHER POSSIBILITY OF LOVE AND IF THIS ISNT THE RIGHT ONE BUT I CHOOSE THIS NOW MAYBE ILL BE MISSING OUT ON THE RIGHT ONE LATER.  Guys, I mean actual men here, dating or loving or sex doesn’t mean that we want to tie you down and marry you and have kids and share a mortgage together!  Trust me, us ladies have SO MUCH MORE at stake that you could ever begin to wrap your complicated heads around.  We’re just taking you for a test drive, amiright girls?  When we decide, if we do, that marriage is something we’d like to partake in with you, you’ll know it.  For sure.  We’ll drag you kicking and screaming to Tiffany.  So can we all calm down for a minute and realize that dating or love or sex is just dating or love or sex right now.  That’s the black (or white) part of it.  It’s either YES we’re doing whatever it is we’re doing today or NO we aren’t doing any of that at all.

Too often I consider the weight of my text messages.  I’m certain that so many guys assume things or take sweet messages out of context and imagine they mean the heavy l-going-to-take-your-soul-then-your-401K.  From the very beginning I’m tiptoeing around being who I am out of fear that my sweet side, my flirty side, my smart assery will scare you little flowers away.

Love just is.  And if that simplicity makes me crazy, then….

****On publication of this post (which I wrote a couple months ago) I’ve weeded out most of the crazy from my  life and am feeling much less crazy myself.  FUNNY ISN’T, IT?!

 

How to get over an American man (Sorry American men):

1. Date a foreigner specifically one of the latin persuasion who speaks more than one sexy language.  Then make him talk to you in said languages.
2. Buy a floppy 70’s hat or something equally fabulous and pointless.  (I’m trying to justify strange purchases)
3. Remember that there are thousands of Italian men who would LOVE to date you and chances are they”ll be dressed WAY better anyhow.
4. Have a cup of tea with an American women in her 60’s who has an American son.  She’ll get it.
5. Re-design your feng sui love corner.  Switch that stupid nondescript Hallmark card out for a postcard from Paris.  The lovers bridge.
6. GET OFF TINDER!  FOR REAL NOW ILL WAIT WHILE YOU DELETE YOUR STUPID PROFILE!
7. Go to a sports bar during a college football game.  And just wait.  Until you crack.
8. Then go listen to jazz and drink wine.
9. Read this article, How To Fall In Love In 5 Minutes.
10. Remember that if he’s white, attractive, well spoken, charming, and American he could also be Ted Bundy.  You’re welcome, ladies!

*you’re welcome for the most amazing American gif EVER!

44 Hail Mary’s…

When your friend goes to confession and is told to pray 44 Hail Mary’s you know that a) she sins a LOT and b) she’s probably having a lot of fun!  I even mused “Was your last confession just a confession that you’re gonna do it all over again this weekend?”  Yes, obviously!

But sex is a huge hot button issue especially for Catholics: sex with your non-wedded partner, same-sex sex, sex with your friend, sex with your co-worker, sex with a friend’s husband, sex with yourself, sex with your table (there are a LOT of very weird fetishes out there friends), sex while ovulating, sex while not ovulating, safe sex, rough sex, paid for sex, oral sex, sexy sex, the sex list goes on and on.  And we’ve been doing it long before anyone ever told us it was sinful, or regretful.  Sex has been happening since before humans were even humans.  We just made it into a thing.  

Last summer while I was traveling through Italy, I took a tour of the ancient city of Pompeii.  Built around 300BC, this very “high-tech” city boasted indoor plumbing, running water, heated flooring, a local wine shop, bakery, housing, court of law, two-story homes and a plethora of brothels. Long story short, Mount Vesuvius erupts covering the town of 20,000 people under 20 feet of volcanic ash.  For 1500 years Pompeii remained a hidden gem.  It was initially discovered in 1599, however excavation didn’t begin until 1748.  In truth, it’s still being excavated even as we speak.

Before I get ahead of myself regarding how amazing, brilliant, wise, resourceful, creative the Romans were, let’s get back to sex.  The brothels specifically.  Each brothel is marked with a giant penis above the door because truthfully, let’s call a spade a spade.  No shame.  No one knew they were suppose to be ashamed of sex 2000 years ago (ok, it’s possible they did know but the Romans we just a bunch of honeybadgers).  Inside a menu of sorts was painted onto the walls so men could essentially order whatever sex they liked.  And people, sex is sex is sex.  It’s been, basically, the same-sex since the beginning.  Each room was outfitted with a big enough bed and that was just about it.  The rooms in this brothel were roughly the same size as all the windows/rooms currently in the red light district.  Not much has changed.  Except our ideas of it.

Let me tell you this regarding sex, I never in a million years thought my mother would be comfortable mailing me her copy of 50 Shades of Grey (I immediately read and frantically ran all over NYC looking for the next two books within 5 days) but she reasoned that because I was in a relationship, I might want to…ya know.  I can’t even you guys!

And here’s something we all know and as women deal with on a daily basis: men, for whatever-the-f*ck reason are allowed to be promiscuous without incident and in fact, it’s often encouraged.  Women on the other hand… I don’t even need to say it.   Evolutionarily speaking, women have much much much higher stakes in choosing a sex partner because GOD FORBID (or God willing depending which side of the aisle you’re on) you get pregnant.  Regardless of rather or not you’re married, we need to determine things like a) is this guy gonna show up at 3am? b) will he help with bottles, diapers, love? c) will he hopefully not judge my ever-expanding body?  d) is he going to murder me one day? or e) is he going to be an absent father who just watches tv all day?  But the catch!  There’s always a catch.  We’ve, as females/ladies/independent women, have evolved into a world where we don’t always want to have kids but sex… I mean, sex!  Why can’t we just have sex and then decide, as adults, when we want to procreate?  We have plenty of birth control options available to us but the stigma of “slut” still remains.  Science gets it!!  Why can’t society realize that our desire to be loved, or be touched, or be held doesn’t always have to end in a 8 pound watermelon flying out of our vaginas 9 months later.  Let’s just all calm down a minute., okay??

The flip side of all of that, according to the fascinating documentary The Science of Sex Appeal, is that no matter WHAT, our evolutionary desire to have children, rather you know it or not, is always one step ahead of you.  When you’re ovulating your voice becomes sexier, you walk sexier, you actually smell, look and taste different, and girl, on top of all that YOU KNOW IT!  Notice when you get catcalled the most or when you most desire to roll in ze hey, it’s all natures big trick to knock you up.  At 35 I started tracking like a demon my ovulation chart and sure enough, science!