The Last Time

I think I went on my last online dating date.

Yes. I did. Even if I've said I was done before, this one was it.

This guy wasn't mean. He didn't stand me up. He wasn't like bizarrely old or bring his mom. He was pretty nice. And before I describe how much of a total nerd he was, I want to be clear how much I enjoy interesting people. I like it when people aren't boring, aren't trying to be something they're not. It will be clear how much I appreciate hygiene though. And that I do value physical appearance. At least some physical attraction is crucial to blind dates.

This guy didn't look like what I thought. From his pictures and the chatting we did, he seemed athletic and vibrant. In reality, he was doughy and sallow. OK. Not a deal breaker.

This guy greased his hair. It wasn't water. It didn't dry. He had lubed his hair forward. Not my thing. OK. Keep going.

His chest was concave. Like a spoon. Like if he laid on his back, I could put a huge lump of sugar on his chest. How does that happen? I don't know. The rest of him was soft and squishy--like a plumped up sponge. So porous. He must have been sweating all over--oozing. But his chest. He was wearing a nice shirt but it gapped in the middle. I could see inside his shirt to his soft, squishy, spongy skin. I'm getting mean, I know.

He had bad teeth. I like nice teeth. I could see his retainer behind his lower set of incisors. His cheeks were puffy. I'm sure it was all the extra teeth in his mouth trying to get out... through is cheeks. I could hear all the saliva in there moving around and his tongue clacking against the metal.

Pink spots on his cheeks. Pink acne spots on his squishy chipmunk cheeks.

Coke bottle glasses.

His fingers were moving the whole time. I was drawn to them, looking at his fidgeting fingers on the tabletop. He had a tiny piece of paper that he kept twisting around and tearing. Those pudgy fingers were so chewed up. Bad.

The worst part? The worst part of all. This guy obviously has to shave sometimes because I could see the area above and below his mouth were speckled. He had shaved recently, at least this one area of his face. The worst part? Three hairs. One. Two. Three. Hairs. On the side of jaw sprouting out. Three dark hairs poking out of his face.

We talked for an hour. He giggled and guffawed and chided me. I lamely planned out different escape procedures. And then I listened and tried to make the best of it. Then I stared at his hairs and his fingers and the people around me and I wondered, What am I doing here?  Why am I doing this?

I left with a 'Take care' and a wave. I got home and deleted my account with a flourish for my own sake.  I like to be dramatic.

Oh wait, the really worst part? We drive the same car. God, I hope that wasn't some sort of message.

Dear One Year

Dear One Year,

It's been a while now. I can't tell if I miss you or I'm just afraid that I still miss you. Because I don't want to miss you. I want to not care. That's a hard feeling, isn't it? To want to not care, but thinking maybe you still care.

A year ago you dumped me. You had been doing lousy, I know. Life had gotten really hard--just worse and worse and you hated your job and your teeth and you just wanted to sleep all the time. I was making it harder for you too. I was making it harder because I loved you and I wanted you to be happy. I wanted to help you. My way of helping of asking you how I could help. I suggested we take a trip together to get away from it all again. I suggested you see someone about it.

A year ago we talked on the phone. I called you and left a message because it had been awhile since we talked and a week or two since I'd seen you. You wanted to be alone more. You called me back. I had been sick that day and watched a lot of Walking Dead. I was congested and had kind of picked up the southern accent of one of the characters. I was talking to you on the phone and you were sad. I hated how sad you were. I don't know if it was that night or a later night or an earlier night when I started to fear that you would kill yourself. You said during the phone conversation that you were afraid you would lose me. You were afraid that you were going to push me away with all of this. And then you later you said that you weren't capable of loving someone right now. That's when I realized that you were breaking up with me.

I don't know if you planned it. Maybe you had been thinking about breaking up with me for a while. Maybe you had called me with the idea. Maybe you were sure you'd do it. Maybe it came out and then you realized it was true.

The following nights I would text you, to see if you were still alive. I didn't sleep much. I thought maybe we weren't really broken up. But we were. And then I decided I had to stop texting you. I had to stop thinking we were going to get back together.

It's been a year and sometimes I'm afraid that I'm not over you. I never told you how shitty that was. I was so busy worrying about you that I never let myself think how fucked up it was of you to dump me the way that you did. Of course I remember all of the kind things you did for me and I can't imagine how a nice guy like you who if you loved me the way you say that you did, the way I believed you did when we were together could drop me during a phone call.

I've seen you three times since last April--when we were together. Three times because of work. Three times I was nervous and anxious and worried how I would feel. The first time was good. The second time was terrible. The third time was fine. The first time I saw you laughing and I missed that part of you. The second time I saw you sad and I was angry that I wasn't there to help you anymore. The third time I tried to ignore you.

You were passive. Everything, all of it, you with me, the whole time. You let me go because that was easier. And you trying to make the rest of your life better, good for you. But you know how it has felt for me? The last year, it has felt like I wasn't enough for you. Something I did or didn't do caused you to dump me. Something about the way I am wasn't right for you.

Or you just didn't love me as much as I loved you.

So what do I need to do to make sure I'm moving on? I don't think anything you say will help me. Maybe I just need to say something to you. Maybe I need to just get all of this out that I've been holding in me because I didn't want to hurt you or make things harder for you. Maybe I need to explain to you how I've felt, how your actions affected me. Maybe I just need to say something mean.

Fuck you for breaking my heart.

You Don't Get What You're Searching For

I went on a date last night. It was good. I was nervous up until the moment we exchanged hello. We drank water from giant mason jars, exchanged stories and shared similarities that I found surprising (and hoped were good signs). He was clean. Clean! I like clean. We spent over two hours talking at the bar (I lost my voice from talking so loud--cool, right). Today, I'm anxious and bored.

Every time I meet someone, I hope he's it. Maybe that's my problem.

A New Year

I have conquered bad habits.
I have paid off a debt.
I have made decisions.
I have struggled to move forward.

Last year was difficult.
Last year was a test of my strength.

This year will be my reward.

Prince Charming

A coworker wants to set me up with her nephew. Every time I see her, she mentions him. Sometimes she tells me something new about him. Sometimes she just says the same thing--how she is still trying. Every Christmas she has an open house and invites all her neighbors and family and coworkers. I stopped by for lunch. Very quickly. Her nephew was going to be there but he wasn't. I wasn't too disappointed actually. She was though.

The next time I saw her she told me that she brought in a photo of him. It was was from three years ago. Does he look the same? She says that his jaw is a little stronger, he has a few lines around his eyes from being out in the sun, and he's had so much free time recently that he's been working out more. When I saw the picture of him, it was too good to be true. Like Prince Charming in a Disney movie.

Before, I was skeptical if I would ever end up meeting him. Now I'm sure it won't happen. I can not even imagine a guy that good looking wanting me.

Falling In Love All The Time

I fell in love a little bit with a fellow who needed some help using a copier. He looked me right in the eyes and he had the biggest grin on his face. That's all it took.