On Ineligible Bachelors

I believe that internet dating can make one lose most, if not all, of the faith in humanity. Either most of the people utilizing these sites are so unskilled at writing normal messages to the guys/ladies they are interested in that they come off as completely creepy/dumb/horny-as-hell, or they are just simply expressing their true selves. In which case, I am scared for America.

Understandably, internet dating sites seek to match two singles with one another; and, understandably, for some people dating and sex come together hand in hand, but if you haven't been laid in several years and your standards have been lowered to the point of wanting to find a pair of legs in a skirt, don't declare that within the first three lines of your introductory message. A tid bit of advice: perhaps you can scramble a bit of money together, fly to Vegas and hire a girl for a night to fulfill your needs. A dating site is not really the place to clean your pipes.

You complain when women don't respond to your messages. Perhaps, they are just following a simple and sensible rule - "When you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all." Sorry, bud, but if your profile picture is showing you showing off your flabby stomach in a dirty bathroom mirror and your "Looking For" section lists that you are basically willing to take any sort of human affection you can get (from new friends to random hook-ups), you're not really selling it to the ladies out there. Sure, honesty is great - do not mislead women into thinking that you are Brad Pitt's long lost brother and have six figures in your bank account. But, Jesus, how many replies do you expect to get when you live in a trailer by the river with your crazy mother and children from two failed marriages? Just think about it... if you were a decent-looking guy with a Master's degree and high hopes for the future, would YOU want to settle for a chick with more baggage than the airport storage facility?

If a woman does decide to respond to your message but says that you are not her type, please do not try to convince her otherwise. No matter how many times you say, "Yeah, that's cool. Doesn't mean that we can't still be friends.", a sensible woman will not buy into that crap and stop responding completely. Especially if that woman is clearly on the dating site in search of a romance. If you really ARE looking for long-distance buddies or a gal pal to grab a vanilla mocha latte with, you are barking up a wrong web site.

Maybe you are cute, smart, have your crap together and initiate communication with a woman with a witty, thought-out message. Maybe, upon reviewing your profile, that woman finds you to be even more intriguing and worth getting to know. Make your intentions clear - if you say that you are serious about dating someone and getting to know them better, do not sporadically disappear off the radar for weeks on end, just to reappear again later. If you really joined the site as a means of boasting your ego and you really have no intentions of dating anyone you meet online, delete your account and go meet someone at a local bar. Who has the time to get their hopes up in thinking, "Oh this guy actually seems promising." just to have you play the peek-a-boo game for your own amusement. Now I see you, now I don't.

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Practice Makes (Not That) Perfect

People are such complicated creatures. Not just men and not just women... people in general confuse the hell out of each other on a daily basis. And when it comes to dating, well, nowadays everyone comes with their very own manual of the do's and don't's of dating, lists of things required in a potential mate and a slew of horror stories of first dates gone wrong.

Unfortunately for some, I also come with a dating manual and various sets of lists of requirements and as I grow older and wiser, the manual is becoming more extensive and the lists grow longer. Of course, I tell myself that I am allowed to be picky with the dudes I choose to date because I qualify myself to be "quite a catch." I mean, seriously, I think I am intelligent, ambitious, funny, pretty and have a pretty good outlook on life. What MORE do these men want?!

However, on several occasions, especially the ones where I was not particularly interested in my date, I found myself to be a lot less charming and witty (and sober) than I would have wanted to be. On those occasions, I imagine, if my dates had dating blogs of their own, they would have probably classified me to fall into one of the following categories.

The Alcoholic:

A good rule of thumb to follow of a date is to limit your drinking to a couple of glasses of wine or beer, depending on a setting. However, when I am not having that good of a time, I help myself to a generous amount of alcohol to make the date more fun (at least, in my head). I would imagine some of my dates in the past were less than thrilled as they watched me down one drink after another, in an effort to make the minutes pass a little bit quicker.

The Debbie Downer:

Usually, if I am smitten by a guy, I would care less if I am sitting right next to a restroom at a restaurant or if it is too hot outside to play miniature golf or if the stock market went down again that day. However, if a guy is less than lovely, I WILL find something to complain about - the cafe lighting, the world economy, the job market - no topic is safe as I will surely rain on my date's parade. After all, if I am not having a good time, then why should he?

The Workaholic:

I will talk about work and work only. If I am not interested in getting to know a guy and he's all out of questions to ask me, I will start talking about work-related topics - how much I have left to do on my Master's thesis before I graduate, how writing a perfect resume can be an absolute bitch, how many hours I worked last week in order to meet a deadline. Check, please!

The Bore:

Sometimes I just don't feel like being bothered with conversation at all. It's not that I don't try but sometimes I run of topics to discuss and it's better to accept awkward silence for the phenomenon that it is and enjoy a Dynamite Roll while listening in to the conversation at the neighbors' table.

The Tease

Once in a while, I THINK I like a guy and I do make an effort to get to know him, to laugh at all the right moments, and to flip my hair just the right way. I may even kiss a guy at the end of a date and say that I hope to see him again very soon. He may leave the date thinking that he's got me wrapped around his finger.

And then the next morning comes and I wake up and change my mind. "Ugh, he seemed WAY too eager," I might think then. Or even, "Ugh, I can't put my finger on it but there was something very shady about that guy." And sometimes I may be right about the shadiness, but the fact is, sometimes I can change my mind in a matter of 24 hours for no justifiable reason at all.

Before I scare anyone off, if I haven't already, I will add that 90% of the time I am a charming, sweet, down-to-earth, cool chick and, most of the times, I know right away if I like a guy or not so I don't lead him on forever and ever. However, we all have our off days, whether it is our date's fault or not, and it is okay. I, for one, remain unapologetic to all those who might have had a bad time with me. For all that I know, they might have deserved it.

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The Girlfriend Experience

Many have heard of the service call girls offer called "The Girlfriend Experience." I, for one, have heard about it first on the Showtime series "A Diary of a Call Girl" a couple of years ago and have been intrigued by the topic since.

The main heroine, Belle, meets with her regular client who pays her not only to have sex with him but for her to act like his girlfriend for a weekend. That entitles going to the movies together, holding hands, cuddling, calling each other "honey" and "sweetheart" - all the usual things couples in love do. Belle is quite a diligent actress, as I suppose she has to be being a high-class British call girl, and puts on an excellent act transforming from a vivacious vixen at night into a googly-eyed girl-next-door by day. The only unorthodox exchange that occurs between Belle and her client is the transaction of money. He pays her to be his girlfriend and goes back to work a single man on Monday morning.

But can this "Girlfriend Experience" transpose itself out of the taboo world of paid sex and into the everyday real world. Do us singles not, even those single bachelors or bachelorettes who choose to be alone because they want to, all crave the "girlfriend/boyfriend experience" once in a while?

There is a level of connection created between a man and a woman (or a man and a man, or a woman and a woman, etc) when there is more interaction between them than just sex. That is, cuddling, hugging, kissing, holding hands - it all involves a level of openness and trust in another person that is not present in the act of sex in it of itself. One night stands never connect us to another on an emotional level and, whether or not we consider one-night-stands to even be morally right or safe, their primary function is always pure physical satisfaction.

With the "girlfriend experience", the goal is to experience what it is like to feel a strand of a deeper connection and, whether that connection has been paid for with money or it genuinely exists and we just do not have a priority for it, we all want to possess it once in a while.

I believe what I had with Mr J was just that - I can call it the "Relationship experience". While there was no exchange of money, the distance was the dividing factor that only brought us together during holidays. During those times that we were together, it was very much under the pretense of forgetting about the fact that we would be separating again soon for a very long time. We ate dinner together, cuddled together, made breakfast together - and it was what we both needed to feel like we WERE, in fact, together. Except, in reality, there was never any official commitment made between us.

He called me late last night and the phone awoke me from sleep. I knew that he was out celebrating his birthday earlier and was returning home from a bar and, as he would usually do, he was calling me because he knew I would be there for him. And I wanted to answer, I really did but I had to let my brain dictate my actions in this case. And my brain said, "Remember how he behaved to you when YOU needed him in the emergency room? Go back to bed and don't worry about his drunk ass."

So I sent him a "Get home safe, Mr J" text and returned right back to dreamland. The "Girlfriend/Boyfriend experience" only works for so long. After a while, if all you can have is the experience and not the relationship, it is best to move right along all together.

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The Near-Death Experience

I was sitting at the Greene Turtle in the Baltimore/Washington D.C. airport, coming back from a fun and sun-filled vacation in Ft. Myers with three of my friends and having a cheeseburger slider, when I began to feel funny.

At first, I tried to ignore it and concentrate on the West Virginia/Kentucky basketball game that was on on one of the flat screen TV's at the restaurant. The feeling came and went in short, rapid waves at first - I fell fine one minute and not so fine the next - but it was bearable. However, as minutes went by, the faint pain coming from the left side of my chest began to spread up and down and across my body.

I took several deep breaths, trying to ignore the dull, persistent ache and concentrate on my friends' conversation, but the pain began to spread to my eyes now. I felt my vision get blurry and my fingers began to shake uncontrollably.

"Are you ok?" one of my friends looked at me with some concern from across the table.

"I... I don't know," I didn't want to cause commotion but I was becoming alarmed.

"What hurts?" he asked.

"My heart... I feel like I'm having a heart attack...." I was now struggling to simply get the words out of my mouth and ignore the dizziness.

"Do you want me to call 911?" he asked.

I paused. There was no money in my bank account to pay for the emergency services and I was just coming back from a pricey vacation but no money is enough when you feel like your every breath is your last.

"Yeah, I need some help... right now..." I mumbled grabbing my head with my hands to keep it from slamming the table. Life was not flashing before my eyes and I was not walking towards "The Light" but death certainly seemed imminent at that moment.

The ambulance ride to the hospital on a stretcher was a blur. I remember the IV needle in my vein wiggling back and forth as the driver rushed through bumpy streets. I remember my feet dangling off a stretcher and thinking that I was, somehow, too tall to fit on it comfortably. I remember numerous questions, as the doctors tried to eliminate the possibility of heart attack out of the equation.

And then, while at the hospital still hooked up to an IV machine, I remember starting to feel better. Gradually, the pain began to back off and subdue. I remember walking out into the emergency room's waiting area to wait on my blood work to come back and seeing my three friends sitting in the cushioned vestibule chairs waiting for me.

There is nothing like a near-death experience to realize who your true friends are. There is nothing like not knowing if you will ever see the light of another day to put the final pieces of the unresolved puzzles back in their places.

Because as I sat in the waiting room's chair, surrounded by my concerned friends and all the love and support I needed at that moment, I received a text message from Mr J asking me what I was doing. Not having talked to him in a while and feeling in need of as much of compassion as I could possibly receive I texted back with, "I'm in the ER."

To which he said....

"Ew, why?" (followed by "are you ok?")

The sheer audacity of responding to a serious, potentially-life-altering message with an "ew, why?" was absolutely repulsing. I texted with "i'm fine," pressed "End Conversation" button and stopped talking to him.

At the end, the blood work came back fine. My heart is in an excellent condition and the chest pain I was feeling was due to stress and dehydration. And I will, somehow, deal with the medical bill when it comes because, at the end, it's being alive that really matters.

In the moment of weakness, when all your ability to hold your own leaves your body, only your true friends will come through with love and support that you really need. I was blessed to receive that love and support that I needed to get through and make it alive through last night. I can only hope that Mr J will find friends like mine when he is feel vulnerable and sick.

I just know that he should not count on me being one of those people.

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Powerpoint Hell or... Is It All Worth It?

How do we find our worth?

I've been critical of people relying too much on their partners for their source of happiness. Clingy and with no backbone and life of their own as I saw them, I've laughed at those people. After all, how could they lose sight of their own selves and give themselves so wholly to someone else without any regard for their own well being?

I'll never be one of those people, I said to myself from time to time again. I am the epitome of independence, paving my own way through life and not relying on anyone (well, maybe a little bit on my parents but, that's besides the point). I am the modern woman, confident (at least for the most part), happy with myself (most of the times), fiercely tough and oh so well put together at all times.

But today, after over two weeks of routinely spending about, and often more than, 20 hours a day on work to prepare for my thesis presentation and receiving a lackluster review, I realized something. I rely on work for my source of happiness. Work is what controls my life 100% of the time.

Crazy, isn't it? As I stood in front of my thesis critics, surrounded by presentation boards and half-numb from sleep deprivation, I heard them say things about my project, I heard them ask questions. I responded with as much interest and enthusiasm as I could muster up while trying to not fall asleep standing up. I wrapped up the presentation and took down the boards. Ad then itt was over. Just like that.

And as far as the last two weeks go... Can I really ever get them back? Am I any better than those people I laugh at who spend all of their time catering to and adjusting their schedules so they could spend as much of their time as possible with their significant others? Perhaps, they are too dependent and perhaps their co-dependency is not healthy. But am I really better than them?

I've let my work control my life. And a healthy dose of passion is never a bad thing - if I ever end up finding a job in my field in THIS economy, I am certain that I will be happier than about 90% of employed people out there. But I have also sacrificed all of my social life, all of the joy one gets from the first few days of spring, and all of the meaningful conversations I could have had with my good friends from the past and present. And for what? Work? How am I any better if I am just as dependent on work as others are on their lovers?

Maybe it's time to close the lid of my laptop, walk out on my balcony and get a lungful of fresh air for the first time in two weeks. Or maybe, as it is in my case, it is time to simply fall into somber sleep for about fifteen hours.

Starting.... now.

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Dealing or Not Dealing

My apartment looks like someone broke into it, went through all my drawers, threw the contents on the floor, tosses things around some more, rolled around on the floor and left. Socks, papers, pens, random articles of clothing, remote controls, sunglasses, books, candles and more! can all be found somewhere on my living room floor. Of course, that's only the tip of the iceberg, 'cause my bed room is not in any better shape.

Yup, it's getting closer and closer to the finals week and I am finding less and less time in the day for myself, sacrificing every minute and every bit of my sanity all in hopes that the hard work will pay off and maybe, just maybe, I'll be able to snag a rewarding job sometime soon.

Frankly, every time toward the end of each school quarter, I ask myself an all-important question, "How am I going to make it through this week?" All I can do is keep pushing, keep eating take-out food, consume coffee by the buckets and not sleep.

And to add insult to injury, every time I stop to take a break, Mr J pops into my head out of nowhere and all the old emotions come back up to the surface. It is never a more inconvenient time to cut ties with a person you love than during the finals week. The lack of sleep combined with a dose of anxiety mixed with a couple of teaspoons of uncertainty and insecurity are hard to endure as it is. But add all these unresolved emotions that I am trying to put behind me and the mixture becomes almost agonizing.

Perhaps it's not all that bad and being a drama queen is something that I need to do in an effort to deal with it all. Perhaps it is what it is and I need to suck it up and let things run their natural course. Time is the ultimate healer and I am looking forward to the day when I can finally start feeling better. I just know that if Mr J didn't decide to be a complete toolbag, my week would have been just a little easier.

Heart-crushing pain, you are no match for me. Somehow, some way and some day, this too shall pass.

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My Heart and What He Did to It

Someone noted my blog as one of their favorites to read on bloginterviewer.com and to that someone, I say, thank you and I am super excited that my semi-coherent ramblings can actually be considered a good read! So please check out, if you will or care to do so, the interview thingie I did at bloginterviewer.com. Just click the button above (cause I finally bothered to learn how to link pictures to things) and gimme some love!

You know when your friend goes through a tough break-up, you are the epitome of rationality, comforting and nurturing and telling him/her that no matter how bad it hurts, it will, inevitably, get better?

Well, it does get better. You know it does. Surely, you are certain that it does. You've been through this before - you had to let someone go or someone let you go for whatever reason and the pain was unbearable for some time. When you knew that what you were doing was for the best, and that there was no viable future for you and your former companion, and that your tears and hopes were not worth remaining in the dead-end situation, you put on a brave front, kicked your heart to the curb and let your brain make the rational decision. And you felt that pain. And you dealt with it somehow. And you came out a stronger individual as a result of your experience.

But when you, yourself, end up in that very same situation once again, all rationality goes right out of the window. And after you've cried uncontrollably in your pillow to stifle your sobbing because the walls of your apartment were too thin and you didn't want your neighbors to hear your laments, after you've wiped your face with a tear-soaked tissue and reminded yourself that you deserve so much better and that he is a fool to treat you this way, you still felt that painful pang that felt more like a punch to your heart. And that's when you questioned yourself, asking "Is it really going to get better?"

Okay, so I am talking about myself here and the final straw that broke a camel's back in the ongoing saga with me and Mr J. After he declared that he will be "too busy" to visit me for his spring break this week, I've decided that I've had enough.

Enough of his irrational jealousy and late night phone calls, enough of him questioning every single post on my Facebook wall by my very platonic male friends, enough of it all. I am done with Mr J and, this time, I do believe that I'm done for good.

I have been living in a fantasy land for the last several months, thinking that, somehow, Mr J and I can end up together. Who am I kidding? He is not ready for a relationship. Instead, he wants to have his cake and eat it too. Well... not even eat it. He just wants to control the cake and question the cake about cake's every single move. But the truth of the matter is, the cake is very single and, as some time passes and the cake will find a rewarding and fulfilling job and settle down somewhere, the cake will be ready to date again.

So, as the cake... I mean, as I am sitting here and having a second beer and feeling the alcohol begin to dull my pain, I am ready to call it quits on this quasi-relationship for good.

Goodbye (and fuck you), Mr J. Someday you'll be nothing but a distant memory and, someday, you will realize that you've let a great girl slip right out of your stubby fingers. Don't worry, that day will come, but it will be far too late to salvage anything you've already irreparably destroyed.

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