Another online dating shift has come and gone and again I’m left with nothing but questions and unclaimable expenses. Should I continue, or quit? Have I been barking up the wrong digital tree? Or is real life the best place to search for love/like/lust? Is there a third option I’m missing? Is love only apparent once you stop looking?
I’ve worked quite a bit with OK Cupid, meeting everything from selfish lawyers to arrogant atheists to flaky single moms to overrun single moms to girls who just want a text buddy or a phone friend. One lady was super cool, and smart, and sexy, and then she concluded she isn’t ready for dating right now. She phrased it like she’s not ready to date anyone right now, but when you’re the one getting dropped it does tend to feel personal.
I’m not sure about OK Cupid anymore, not after reading if you use the site but aren’t a paying member, your chats and personal info are not encrypted with HTTPS protection. I can deal with being rejected or passed over by strangers…but not by third-party strangers having access to my rejection.
Been sick for days. First, flu-like sick. Then vomiting & diarrhea sick (in a cruel twist, my body insists on voiding below the equator first, then demanding I bend over and puke where I just…voided. Sometimes the body is a dick). Now, migraines & vertigo for four days. And all the while, deadlines to the left of me; deadlines to the right of me.
The medication for the migraines and the dizzies works, but it’s like quelling a riot by dropping an A-bomb. It wipes out the targets, but it wipes out everything else in the area – in this case, the “area” is my brain. All the work I do depends on my ability to think. When I take this pill, I can’t think straight. It’s like being high, if being high sucked. Like, it doesn’t have any of the fun parts of feeling high…just the “Wow, my head is fucked up; I can’t think or drive right now; all I can do is sit and veg” feeling.
My cousin just emailed me a picture from when I was about 8. It’s me, my sisters, and my favorite dog ever, a Siberian husky named King. My head is still a mess. But my heart is smiling widely. Love you, prima.
Larry Sanders, 26, walks away from the NBA and its millions to pursue the life he really wants. Here, he explains why:
I first gave online dating a stab a year and a half ago. Took a break for a while, gave it another go, then gave it up again. A few months ago I picked it up again, figuring the third time might be the charm. Maybe online dating’s like riding a bike: something you get better at the more you do it.
The first time I’d tried it was doomed from the start. I wasn’t ready; my breakup was still too fresh. Ironically, the first person to “like” me on the website (because online dating is like eighth grade: a “win” is when someone “likes” you) was my ex. As a favor. As if throwing someone a bone after you’ve ripped out their heart is fair trade. Then again, egocentrics by definition have warped worldviews. If an ass grows wings and flies, you can’t really blame it when it crash lands.
In round two, I went out with a lawyer. We met for dinner, where she mentioned her ex. Then mentioned him again. And again. And again. And again. This was annoying–especially when the check came and I, the professor, opened it up to see the total and she – the lawyer – said “Thanks!” We went to a bar after, where I thought a change of scenery and some drinks might move us into new conversation. Nope. Now, I’m a mellow dude in general. But my pride burns deep inside me like the hot Caribbean sun. I have quite the subterranean ego. I didn’t like feeling like I was just some stand-in. I was going to let her have it, but after we left the bar she let me have it. In a good way. Sometimes being a stand-in’s pretty good.
Round three has seen its share of WTFs—specifically, seven distinct classes of girls: Continue reading
Some truths can only be known in the moment.
I needed to buy board games for FANS, the group I founded at my university for foreign and native speakers. So I stopped at Target on my way to work…by which I mean I tried to stop at Target. Despite the store being 10 minutes away, despite having been there a few days ago, I got lost. Twice. Which meant I was cutting it closer than I liked as far as getting to class on time.
I couldn’t understand how I’d gotten lost–twice. Stress can affect memory. The semester’s hit the start of the busy period, but I haven’t felt overwhelmed? Hmm. I didn’t mean to end that sentence with a question mark. Freudian typo?
Hmm. Something might be stressing me.
There’s a parking garage at work. Usually on a Thursday afternoon there’s plenty of room, but today there was an event on-campus and the place was absolutely packed. It took more than 10 minutes after I entered the garage to get to an open spot. Now I was really rushing. I had to scan and email stuff before class and almost no time to do it.
I had to park atop the garage roof, which meant walking down five flights of stairs behind two elderly women who walked like two elderly women going down five flights of stairs. When I entered my building and headed up the stairs, I thought about the unlikeliness of the prior half-hour. What should have taken 30 minutes took almost an hour. I got up the stairs and turned left.
There she was.
*** Continue reading
Norfolk, located on the east coast of England, was long considered England’s “second city,” after London, right up to the Industrial Revolution. In the Victorian era, Valentine’s Day held tremendous significance. On this day, Norfolkian? Norfolkite? Norfolker? lovers exchanged gifts with one another.
Like a benevolent game of Ding Dong Ditch, there’d be a knock on your door, you’d open it, no one would be there, you’d look down, and there’d be a gift on your doorstep, said to have been left by Jack Valentine. And because even without a toy aisle, Victorian children were greedy little piles of stress-inducement, parents would leave them gifts as well.
Y’all think Oediups is classic lit. It was a warning! TOO LATE NOW! NOM NOM NOM!!!
Recently, a friend had a short story published in a magazine. I couldn’t wait till it came out—I’d read a few of her other pieces, and they all scratch right where I itch.
I love reading fiction by people I know. Like tripping with someone or sleeping with someone, there is an intimacy and seduction in storytelling. Just like the first time knockin’ boots with someone, the first time you experience how someone-you-know writes is all surprises, symmetries and swerve.
I…never noticed how…skillfully you wield your…relative clauses. *sigh*