What's your type?

A note from Holly:

“What’s your type?”

That’s the question I usually get immediately after discussing my proclaimed “year of dating.” It’s a funny little question and I have two default responses:

1. “Is heterosexual a type?”
2. “Ken doll.”

However, after realizing that this would probably be useful information for my frog hunting endeavors and that I actually didn’t have a concrete answer, I decided to initiate my usual game plan for such difficulties – I called Heather. When I asked my darling sister if I had a type, she laughed (it was really a snarky little sound) and then she said “Of course you do! You’re totally into nerds!”

I was immediately offended. I assume that a slew of previous boyfriends are now also offended.

In an effort to redeem myself, I started rattling off names and a variety of reasons as to why “nerd” wasn’t my type. “But there was Joe Bob, he was captain of the golf team! And there was totally Jimmy Joe! He got offered a basketball scholarship to college! And what about Cody, Ethan, and Jake? They wore cowboy boots! Nerds don’t wear boots!”

Heather tolerated my tirade and then rattled off a few names that really didn’t bring much else to the table other than their ability to beat me at a video game but lose to me in a real life physical altercation. Hhhhmmmm….

This was mildly frustrating to me…especially because Heather’s type is pretty straight-forward – if he’s not currently an athlete, not formerly an athlete, or not actively interested in viewing sporting events, then he’s definitely not for Heather.

I shared this frustration with my friend Kate, who sympathized with my struggle. She summed it up a little better than I could though…”Of course I don’t know my type! If I knew my type, I wouldn’t be single!”

Bingo.

How in the world am I supposed to share my type when clearly all the “type” choices I have made previously failed? 

I mean, logic would suggest that I could learn from previous relationships…I’m not usually a fan of logic but I decided to attempt it. I made a list of reoccurring themes that should perhaps factor into the next round.

Common Themes

1. Truck ownership – I admit, growing up in Oklahoma probably impacted this fact but nonetheless, a majority of former relationships drove trucks. I did not hate this. ;)

2. Lack of Jersey shorts – These are Heather’s people. However, I do not consider running shorts and a t-shirt to be appropriate attire for 90% of the world to see you wearing. You work out? Awesome. You wear these when you do? Happy for you. You want to wear them to dinner? No thanks.

3. They love Jesus – this is a tricky one because there were varying levels here but that’s okay. During certain relationships, I loved Him less him than I do now so I’m judgement free on that note but share it because this is obviously an important factor for me.

4. No long hair – stresses me out. That is all.

So…yeah…that’s basically all I can come up with for uniting factors. Everything else seems to be a modge-podge of interests, attributes, and skill sets…

Perhaps it’s easier to stick with the previously stated requirements: Is he straight? Does he look like a Ken doll? Done!

In other news, I’ve had two interesting conversations/realizations that I thought I’d share:

1. My friends Matt and Darli came to visit a few weeks ago. We had a grand time with many adventures! While it was overall nothing short of spectacular, I made an interesting discovery…I don’t notice men. Seriously. Apparently this is a thing that I do not do. We could all be sitting at a table. Darli would say “MmmmMmmmmMmmm!” Matt would say “Yes ma’am!!!” I would say “Right? Isn’t the cornbread delicious!” Nope…we were apparently not discussing cornbread. This situation played out over multiple days and at multiple venues. Both Matt and Darli could find, smile at, and comment on beautiful people before I even realized there was someone near us. I feel like this is problematic to frog hunting but I don’t really have a solution. I feel like the alternative, which would be creepily staring everyone I meet up and down, is not really conducive to finding the right kind of frogs, you know what I mean?

2. I went shopping with my friend, Liz, and her lifelong friend, Rachel. While Liz was trying on clothes, I filled Rachel in on the Frog Blog. Her response was game changing. First of all, she wasn’t shocked that I was trying online dating.  There were also no comments regarding how unfortunate it is that I’m not already married and there was no sympathy regarding the process of wading through tadpoles. Instead, she told me I needed to be aggressive. Boom. She’s currently living in New York, attempting the same thing Heather and I are and she hit on something that I had previously never thought of – there are other frog hunters out there. There are other frog hunters who want my frog! They want him rul bad! So if I see someone on Hinge that I want to meet with, then I need to initiate the convo and go meet him! If I don’t, someone else most certainly will. Seriously guys, game changing. 

So on that note, I do believe it’s probably time to expand the dating options from Hinge to….something other than Match.com (as previously stated, I ain’t got time for them crazies over there!). More to come on this in future blog posts but it’s time. I will continue to Hinge and as such, thought I’d share a few more taglines that have, if nothing else, brightened my days. Enjoy!

 Right? Totes agree, Brian.

 Me too Sam, me too.

 So, I'm not really sure if David is overly confident, a true "foodie," or if this is a truly a testament to the priorities in his life: food > Holly

 So, Will here actually made me snort. Because this is so ridiculously true. That basically sums up how I feel every morning that I wake up and there are no matches...wahwah

 Wow. Jake's a philosopher.

 HUGE bonus points to you, Mike. We all have moments...but as long as your moments allow you to quote Sandra Bullock movies, we'd get along great.

 I love everything about you, Alex.

 ...?

 We obviously have different ideas regarding life expectancy. (Note from Heather: While editing this post, I texted Holly to inform her that these were song lyrics. Don't worry, y'all. At least one Roberts sister knows Sublime.)

 Found it! Current runner and dedicated friend! You liar!

 I had to google Josh Lyman...

 Bam!

 This? This is how you pick up women?! 

Uhhh...that's a lot of pressure, Sean. You've got nothing?

 And Sebastian for the win! *drops the mic*

A note from Heather:

This post feels shallow. Having a type feels shallow. However, it is what it is. And here I is. I'm offended that Holly described my type as being jersey short wearing athletes. However, with a few exceptions in mind, it is what it is. I yam what I yam.

As Holly pointed out, whatever we've thought our type was clearly hasn't been working. Here's to throwing caution to the wind and branching out from my type. Here's to recreating my type as simply: "a confident, faith-focused, kind, generous, funny, and intelligent man", whether he wears basketball shorts or not. :)

Hugs and frogs,
Holly & Heather

Is this real life?

Heather here. Hi everyone.....Will one of y'all yell at Holly for not writing a blog update? I know you want to hear from her, and frankly, she's too good at telling me "No."

Anyway, I'm sure many of you saw that Holly and I went to the Kentucky Derby. If you've wondered "I wonder if they will have a cute blog story from the derby!?", my short answer is "nope." However, if you wondered "Did Lamont (the guy who called Heather racist) message Heather while she was at the Derby from a different match.com account and ultimately, make the same accustations as he did before?" The answer is "YEP." If you wondered, "Did Lamont make threatening statements, which resulted in Heather reporting his account? and "Did a match.com representative respond to Heather encouraging her to notify local police about the conversation?", my answer is "YEP." and also "................have you been reading my e-mails?"

Here's where it started:

The first message wasn't bad. If I had only received that message, hadn't received his nasty messages from a few posts ago (go read it if you haven't already....), and didn't receive the messages that followed the first, I might have responded. I was at the Derby when I received the first message, so, really, it would have taken me a while to get back on that message, too. However, I knew who he was and knew I didn't want to respond. Why would I ride that rollercoaster again? I opted not to respond.

And then I got that second message....and honestly thought, "Is this real life?" Again, my game plan was "Just let it go......just don't respond..it'll click and he'll realize your conversation from last month...."

THEN, I got the third message. At that point, I thought "How can he not realize we spoke before? How can he not remember that he made the same accusatory comments to a blonde with a pit bull?" ...And then I wondered about his sanity...and then I wondered if I was being punked by a friend....and then I responded.

After I sent this, it probably only took about 90 seconds before Lamont wrote back. I would love to say he apologized and we agreed amicably not to correspond anymore. Alas, that's not what happened.

Look guys, I get it. Lamont is angry and hurt. Not only is Lamont upset about being rejected, he's upset about a lifetime of prejudice. I recognize and acknowledge the prejudice he has experienced, I don't know what it's like, because I'm not Lamont. However, I recognize it and can be sensitive to it. I'm incredibly privileged and haven't dealt with the pain of years of systematic and personal oppression like Lamont may have. Anyway, angry people are likely to hurt people...physically or emotionally. I get it. However, it's not a fun game to play when you're on the receiving end. I maintain that my disinterest in Lamont does not have anything to do with race, but, I see how he could feel that way.

In hindsight, I probably should have just left out my second response. I knew it wouldn't make a difference and knew he wouldn't accept it. As soon as I sent my response, I went back to the app to try and figure out how to block and/or report someone. That process took me roughly 3-4 minutes, which was enough time to receive the final 3 replies from Lamont.

Understandably, I felt (and still feel) threatened by Lamont's comments. I don't know what Maryland Heights has to do with anything or why he threw that in there. (For you out of towners, Maryland Heights is an area in St. Louis...) Maybe Lamont assumed I live there? Anyway..I don't live there...and I'm not in the area often, which, is a comfort I guess......Also...I think it's funny that Lamont couldn't remember my face or profile enough to realize he had messaged me from another account, BUT, he thinks he "remember(s) faces very well." If his facial recognition is as good as I think it is, I wonder how often he reintroduces himself to himself in the mirror. (zing.)

When reporting someone on match.com, there's a blank line for you to fill in why you're reporting them. In this situation, I was brief. I wrote something along the lines of "Lamont has sent me accusatory and now threatening messages from two accounts."

Kudos to match.com on their response. I sent the report the evening of 5/4. The following morning, I received a response around 9 am. from match.com customer support. Basically, the response was sympathetic (which was validating) and firm. The responder suggested that I contact local authorities immediately. The rep also mentioned that we could get in touch with their legal department, and could get a subpoena for more information if necessary. The e-mail also said that due to confidentiality, they couldn't tell me what action was taken, but "please be assured that the appropriate action has been taken on this account."

I haven't gone to the police. It doesn't seem necessary for me now. If I hear from him again, sure, I'll go chat with a cop about feeling threatened by a guy from match.com. Sounds like a great time. I'll send you all an e-vite.

Side note: I went to the police a few years ago when a guy I knew in Oklahoma tracked down my home address in St. Louis and started sending me letters/flowers. I asked him to stop, but then realized he had made comments online about coming to St. Louis to "get (me)". Since I knew he had my address, I was concerned. It was a weird, scary, and humiliating process, especially when I went to the police feeling very insecure. From the police, I basically got a "Well....here's a pamphlet on how to walk in the neighborhood safely...Maybe get some pepper spray?" Also, this was around a month after I had kinda escaped a car jacker who had kidnapped a woman. (It's less dramatic than that sounds..) I just mean that I wasn't feeling very safe or secure in general....I don't know what I was expecting the cops to do when I went there. I guess I thought they would at least make a note in their system about my concern? I don't know.

Anyway. Dating is obviously going swimmingly. It's a ton of fun and man, why would anyone want to skip this for married life? 

A note from Holly:

Don't yell at me. I can't take it. If Heather makes it sound like she is kindly and angelically asking me to write blog posts and that I am maliciously denying her request, she's wrong. Typically the comments are "Well, I guess you're done with the blog." and "What are you doing? You should be writing a blog..." Uh huh, see that sassy snark?

But really, I haven't been writing a blog because I'm busy! It's the end of the semester and a few things at work are proving very time consuming and I got a promotion (yaay!) but I just haven't had much time! My deepest and sincerest apologies, oh perfect Heather!

In addition to Heather's lie about my blog post writing refusal, she also lied about not having a story out of the Derby. I have three initial comments:

1. All men look better in suits and bow ties. All of them. (This excludes the gentleman who had on a seersucker suit, no shirt, and a bow tie.) But really, I feel that my Hinge experience would be going a little better if they were all in Derby attire...

2. This year there were limited cat calls. This could mean one of two things: I'm now too old to be cat called at or there was an increase in civilized behavior this year. Either way, I'll take it!

3. We sat next to the most lovely boy. :) I would say that we are now friends except for the fact that I don't know his name. I'm not trying to get all "once upon a time in China" on you, but it was refreshing to have a two day long conversation with a stranger that didn't make me feel icky and annoyed. Our conversations were wonderful, he rooted for my horses, and he gave me a hug when we parted ways. Well done, kind, competent, rescue-dog-owning, suit-wearing, world-traveling sweet little muffin from West Virginia!

So, regarding Heather's blog post above, I've had a few different reactions. First of all, I think Heather should go to the police. I'm not saying that they should arrest Mr. Lamont but...no...actually, they should. I officially call for immediate arrest and castration. Problem solved.

 But seriously, arrest and castration.

Alright fine, just castration. It doesn't have to go on his official record card just yet. I'm a lenient gal...but really, I take this seriously, I want Heather to take it seriously, and for crying out loud, I want the police to take it seriously! This kind of behavior can not and should not be ignored!

And let the record reflect, I'm never joining match.com. Them be cray.

Hugs and frogs,

Heather and Holly

Catharsis, Mr. Wrong, and Mr. Almost

Hi friends (and the rest of you..)...Heather here...

I know it's been a while since we've posted. I could ramble about how busy us Roberts girls are, but, really, my excuse is that I haven't known what to say. I'm hesitant about this blog post, because it feels like an overshare, but meh. Here we go.

I went back to Tulsa for a baby shower a couple of weekends ago. I loved seeing everyone, and loved even hearing some friends mention their following of this blog. I'm always awkward, but especially awkward when talking about this little project. So...sorry if I was weird(er) about it. Hah.

Anyway, going back to Tulsa is always a tricky process for me. Most of my years in that town were devoted to one relationship, so most of my memories there are around that one relationship. Many of you know the long-term and painfully sinking ship that I'm referring to, and I try not to let it affect me, but it's hard not to when I go back. Strangely enough, going back this time led me to contacting a different ex-fling (would I even call him a fling? I don't know what I would call him. Who knows...)..let's call him Mr.Wrong. Basically, I asked if Mr.Wrong would be up for meeting up while I was in town. Why did I contact him? Not sure. What did I think would happen? Again, not totally sure. However, what DID happen, was that Mr. Wrong texted me during the day asking if I was still planning on meeting later that night. He then said he had eaten a lot of sushi and wanted to go home to crash after work. Honestly, I thought he was joking about going home to crash after work. I kept my schedule open and even headed home to shower and get ready.

Guys, I couldn't make this up if I tried. I got stood up, and the best excuse Mr. Wrong could come up with was a Philly Roll induced food coma.

Given my history with Mr. Wrong, I know it was BS. I know we both harbor ill-feelings towards each other, though we have had moments and times where those fade away. I assume Mr. Wrong a) didn't want to end up in this blog, b) had better plans present themselves (perhaps with another girl), c)just didn't want to be bothered with my crazy train or d) all of the above.

It's humbling and weirdly freeing to put this out there. What girl (especially one as prideful as myself..) wants to admit to something like contacting an ex? What girl wants to admit to being stood up by him? But, here I am. I'm committed to being open about my experiences from March 1, 2015 to March 1, 2016, and I think this experience was influenced (either through my initiation or through his cancellation) by this blog. In the saga of my story with Mr. Wrong, there have been many times where I should have been done with him. Perhaps through the cathartic nature of putting this out into the universe, I may have finally found some closure and finality.

At this point, let's just make Mr. Wrong a bird.

ON ANOTHER NOTE:

I had a date. Well. Two dates.

I've struggled with what to write about this, also. Here are the basic deets. Met a nice guy through Tinder. I know it's somewhat of an oxymoron to have "nice" and Tinder in the same sentence. Super nice guy...Super successful... Solid Christian..Athletic...basically everything on paper I would want.  Let's call him Mr. Almost (as in, Mr. Almost Right..). We chatted back and forth through the app, texted, and then agreed to meet up. (Oddly enough, he texted me the same night Mr. Wrong ditched me.)

We grabbed coffee last weekend. Well, I grabbed chai. Mr. Almost drank water, because he was headed to hockey practice. (Weird..guys in St. Louis love hockey...) (Note to self: Research for the existence of a  "Hockey for Dummies" book..) The conversation was good..a little intense at times, but good. The date was kept short because he had to get to practice. In the conversation, he asked why I was on Tinder and I may or may not have spilled about the blog. (He didn't catch the name of the blog, though, so I think this is likely safe from his eyes.) Somehow, it didn't scare Mr. Almost away because as we got into our cars, he said "Write nice things about me!" He also called me cute, which I still don't know how to process. I know, I know. His intentions were pure and "cute" is a better option than "hot" or "sexy", but you just can't win with me...I'm too critical for compliments. If you want the way to my heart, compliment my dog. I won't ever question if those compliments are genuine; Sully deserves any compliment you throw at him. ;)

And then I hopped into my car, snapped this selfie to send a friend, felt real confused, but reminded myself that I was committed to this process and I better suck up any fears/anxieties.

That night, he asked to go to the Cardinals game together a few days later, but I already had plans. Because of us both having demanding schedules, our only option for meeting up again was a Tuesday night dinner. We ate at a local STL place and walked around through the neighborhood for a bit. Afterwards, he asked to get coffee, but I declined because a) I was tired, b) I felt like it was getting intense, and c) I missed my dogs. (Note to self: Research for the existence of a "How to manage an unhealthy relationship with your canine while dating" book..)

Mr. Almost asked for us to go out again on Saturday, but, I told him I was babysitting while the kiddos' mom went to a baby shower. He got a wittle bit aggressive and said "It's a baby shower. It'll be during the day. We can go at night..." I told him I wasn't sure about the timing, and it immediately felt awkward...

Anyway, I've been trying to dissect my feelings and intentions about Mr. Almost. Sometimes you hear couples say they knew instantly about each other being a match. Sometimes you hear them say their feelings had to grow..Sometimes you hear "I knew he was the one because he didn't annoy me....but..he annoys me now." :) I know others struggle with this too, but, where do you cut it off and decide that the spark/flame just isn't there? Can you tell on the first date? The second? Third? If it isn't there on the second date, do you go back for a third, knowing that a third date just bumped things up on the commitment and interest scale a bit? Anyway, somewhere toward the end of the second date and over the next couple of days, I decided it just wasn't there. I'm bad at dating. Like, this is the worst. I still haven't found a way to honestly and delicately relay my "done-ness" to Mr. Almost. I took a few days off from the oh-so-captivating-and-enlightening world of match.com, but, I'm back at it now. Oh, goody. I can hardly contain my excitement. It's riveting, I tell ya.


A note from Holly:

So, when Heather read this blog to me this morning (Yes, she read it to me. I was driving. My straightener died. There is no crisis like a dead straightener.), I was struck by a few things.

First of all, I'm proud of this kid. When I describe Heather to other people, I sometimes struggle to find the right words. There is no hiding the fact that we are very different from one another and this sometimes makes explaining our differences problematic because I can hardly keep from insulting the other one in describing the attributes of the initial sister. "She's really smart." (This means I'm not - but seriously, she's really smart.), "She's always an advocate for the underdog." (This translates into me not caring about pitbulls or foster babies). "She's  kind of violent." (Well...this one seems self-explanatory.) So, I typically say "Heth's not a nurturer." I know that this may have negative connotations as well but this one works for me. It doesn't mean that she's not kind or talented or altogether wonderful. It does mean that she's a "pick yourself up, dust yourself off, and move on" kind of gal...and she's darn good at it.

So, that's why I'm proud of her. I mean, I'm proud for her being that kind of girl, but I'm also proud of her for addressing this head on. This kind of stuff is just yucky. It's the kind of stuff you want to forget, but can't. It's the kind of stuff that sneaks up on you in the middle of a business meeting, with no warning, and you are so taken aback, so newly re-shamed that you sigh and avoid eye-contact as you remember how you did text your ex...or, in  my case, called your former boyfriend, just to hear his voice, and acted like it was a wrong number WHEN HIS NEW WIFE ANSWERED. Low point. Low point.

I know where Heather is at in this as ironically, she was dating her sinking ship at the same time I was dating mine. While I love Norman, and I have SO MANY amazing memories from there, even a brief visit can make me feel like there is no air in that place. Every single thing seems tainted with memories of him...and really, my sinking ship wasn't even that bad. He was like a friendly little tugboat. Heather was tied to the dadgum Titanic. I can see why home is hard for her and why texting flings is a perfectly logical and well-thought-out decision.

On a a side note but not out of character for our relationship, Heather has beaten me to the first round of dates! To provide an update, I've now been matched with 5 boys via Hinge...one has messaged me...for a span of 24 hours...and ceased all communication with me on April 1st. Coincidence? I think not. 

Good heavens, I'm miserable at this.

Hugs and frogs,
Holly & Heather

Once upon a time in China

A note from Holly:

Today you get a story.

You get one that I had almost lost to the little monsters that steal good stories. You know the ones; the ones that take moments of enchantment and replace them with stories of stress, survival, and realism. They make the goodness in an ordinary day seem small and the gloominess seem overwhelming…they’re nasty little joy thieves…but don’t worry, I got this one back!

Before diving into my “once upon a time” story (Eep! Doesn’t that phrase make your soul happy?! It’s how you know the story to follow will be marvelous!), I should back up and explain a few things.

First of all, this story really resurfaced as a response to the movie Cinderella. As many of you know, I spent some time with a few princesses at Disney World so I went to see the movie with a fellow Disney retiree, as all Disney movies are best experienced with someone who knows how mightily you will judge it, and a few things happened. To state it plainly, I fell in love. While certainly not surprising, given my history with ball gowns and tiaras, I did truly love this movie. I loved the colors and the dresses and the courage and the kindness and the glitter and the story…but despite all this love, I found myself a little bitter. 

This sentiment peaked in the scene where Cinderella and the Prince have left the ball to go walk around outside…actually, they’ve left to walk around a perfectly manicured garden with lights and stairs and stars and she had on her perfect ball gown with glitter in her hair and he was in his suit with ridiculously beautiful eyes and just…*sigh* you get it. The Prince offers to show her his favorite spot in the garden, which just happens to have a swing, and at this point I actually verbalized “Shut up!” to my movie going comrades.

Whoopsies.

It’s just…it’s just so hard sometimes to balance my expectations. There’s so many of them! I have princess expectations that truly would have been there with or without Disney and then I have real-life expectations which sometimes morph into real-life sacrifices…the expectation that nothing ever works out as you originally hoped it would.

I realize that this story also weighed heavily on me given my whole “frog blog” commitment. When you announce that you’re looking for something, it becomes obvious every day that you don’t have it.

So I secretly, and naturally, stewed on this for weeks. I bitterly swiped left or right on my Hinge app with the anticipation that maybe, if I’m lucky, someone might match with me and then if I actually have a fairy godmother, she’ll get him to message me and then if he so much as buys me coffee, I probably better go ahead and propose.

And then, I woke up thinking about Sean. I haven’t thought of him, or our meeting, in quite some time…but, just like that, I woke up thinking of him, and all hope has been restored…

So, once upon a time in Shanghai, China, I went to a friend’s birthday party at his favorite place in the city. There was a large group of us, many of us work colleagues, which included both Chinese natives and expats. We were having a lovely evening when I spotted the most beautiful man! He reminded me incredibly of The Bachelor and I shared this with Rhonda and Amina, my friends who were also at the birthday party.

Now, I considered glossing over the part of the story where Rhonda approached said boy and told him what I’d said, as I feel that detracts from the “magic.” However, upon reflection, I’m leaving it in! Rhonda has just been promoted to my fairy godmother!

So, without knowledge of this conversation, the beautiful boy appeared in front of me, handed me a Diet Coke and said “Hi, I’m Sean.”

This deserves another pause. While I’ve actually never had a man buy me a drink in America, this happened regularly in China. This is an interesting predicament for me because I don’t drink. Always wanting to give the benefit of the doubt, I usually shared this with the kind sir who had just purchased me an alcoholic beverage. However, 9/10 of those guys would then say something along the lines of “WHAT?! YOU DON’T DRINK?!?! WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU?!?” Noting the obvious poor response, I would respond, “I’m pregnant.” This usually ended things quickly.

So back to our story, Sean had just approached me, and handed me the drink that I was already drinking. Well played, sir. Way to pay attention. We began talking and moved outside when the atmosphere inside became too loud. He was a captain in the military, stationed in Korea, and was in town for the weekend because he played on a competitive rugby team. He and the rest of the team had come out that evening to celebrate and were planning to leave the following afternoon. We talked for several hours, I met many of his team mates and he kept a Diet Coke in my hand all night.

After a few hours, my friend’s birthday party was disbanding and Sean's friends were going to head to another location. Just as I thought it was time to say good-bye, he asked if I wanted to go with him... and well, sometimes you’re young and alive in Shanghai, China and you simply must say “yes.”

So off to dance we went! There were several other people I knew who had also agreed to go and so we headed off for taxis. Rather than ask me to ride with his friends, he actually rode with mine. A small comfort ordinarily, but a great one for girls who are never up past 10 p.m. We arrived at the next venue, where he promptly ordered my drink of choice and we danced (a huge thank you to his mother who enrolled him in dance classes when he was young).  Throughout the night, he would put his hand on the small of my back to guide me places, he opened doors, he helped me up and down stairs, he, in short, did everything he was supposed to do.

Finally, at such an ungodly hour that I won’t even post it, I decided that I had to go home or I would fall asleep standing up. At that point, he walked me downstairs, got my taxi and began to reach into his wallet to pay for my taxi ride home. I told him that was absolutely not necessary but as he was reaching for money, I noticed he had American currency. I shared that I was excited to see American money! It had been so long that I had nearly forgotten what a dollar bill looked like! So he took one out, wrote his name and e-mail address on it, and tucked me quite safely into my taxi.

As we drove off, I remember asking the taxi drive in Mandarin “Isn't he handsome? He’s so kind.” The taxi driver enthusiastically confirmed that he was both.

Three days later, I received the following e-mail: 

"Dear Holly,

I really enjoyed meeting you. It's not often I get to speak to a classy, attractive, and educated woman.

I hope the remainder of your time in Shanghai goes well.

Respectfully,

CPT Sean

P.S. I do occasionally attend formal balls; It would be nice to take a princess."

And they lived happily ever after. Actually, they didn’t live together or stay in touch or think of the other often but it certainly does lend itself to suggest a happily ever after, doesn’t it?

And I’m back to my fairytale expectations.

A note from Heather:

Anyone who has known Holly and I for several years knows that there are many differences between us. One of those differences, which has contributed to me fulfilling the "big sister" role for many years, is that Holly often lives in the clouds and I live firmly planted on the ground. I'm not saying I'm better for living on the ground (I refuse to leave the ground...It's a fault, really..). I'm merely saying we're polar opposites in that sense. 

I remember the night Holly met "Sean". By the way, his name isn't actually Sean. She's calling him that in reverence for Sean Lowe from the Bachelor.......Anyway, Holly called me from China at some ungodly hour and was so happy she was floating. I could feel her floating from another continent. She gave me the details of her night, including statements like, "Heth, he touched my back and I didn't try to move his hand. This is huge."

In many of our sibling conversations, my role is to give Holly a few doses of reality and bring her back to the ground. Earlier in this post Holly mentioned the little monsters who steal good stories and replace them with reality; I'm positive she was referring to me.  However, I just couldn't do it this time. I couldn't burst Holly's bubble. After hearing about her experience with Sean, I was even encouraged. I was encouraged that she, in the middle of a somewhat despairing time (rough and lingering break up, living in a foreign country, mold growing on her apartment wall, yadda yadda yadda), had met someone who could give her hope. Holly knew she may never see Sean again, but, she was filled with glee that someone like Sean existed. 

For years Holly and I have been told that we have unrealistic expectations, high standards, and are too picky. We're alike in that sense. Others have implied that we need to lower our expectations to find a man who would accept us. However, for this night, Holly wasn't too picky. She was validated, and somehow, I felt validated, too. 

Do I want the prince charming and fairy tale like Holly? Not really. Not my scene. But, I was encouraged because if Holly's expectations were preliminarily met by someone, then, maybe mine could be too.

Many of us have had experiences and interactions with others that restore our faith in friendships, family, or humanity in general. This night somewhat restored our faith in dating. At this point, a relationship is still a long shot for either of us. But, Sean, wherever you are, you deserve some serious kudos for restoring what men and experiences before you had demolished.


Hugs and frogs,
Holly & Heather

I am woman. Hear me ROAR. (but not tooooo loudly?..)

A note from Heather:

How invested should a girl be in taking the initiative to meet potential dates? I've always struggled with this, but especially in the last few weeks. I'm not going to wrap this blog up with a nice bow about how I've got the answer to this internal debate. This is more of an open dialogue and encouragement to others who struggle with the same questions. I keep going back and forth about if this is even worth posting, because reading through it is even confusing to myself.

Some of you are rolling your eyes and have already replied in your head, "Seriously, Heather? Girl, it's 2015, Do whatever you want to do! Lay off the antiquated gender roles...What kind of social worker are you?!" Some of you, however, thought to yourselves "A lady should be pursued, not the pursuer. If a guy wants to get to know you, he can be a man and take the initiative." Honestly, I go back and forth between these two opinions. In any given day, I might adhere to either of those thought camps. I think there's a few reasons why this is such a convoluted mess in my mind.

1) I grew up in southern Oklahoma attending a southern Baptist church. I was taught from a very early age that men and women had different roles in families and thus, in dating too. My understanding was that girls were to be desirable (and patient) and guys were to be the pursuers. I can even remember in elementary school when one of my female peers "asked out" a boy; I was confused and didn't understand why she was putting herself out there like that. I remember thinking that "cool" girls and "desirable" girls would never have to ask a boy out. "Why would they?", I thought..."If they were worth it, a guy would always pursue them first." I think the philosophy themes from the Biblical implications of men being leaders of the families and churches, but the philosophy permeated every aspect of my life, even subconsciously. I can also distinctly remember a time in 7th grade telling myself to be quiet around my male peers as they came back from gym class with the 8th grade boys. This wasn't because I was embarrassed or lacked confidence, this was because my impression was that being demure and desirable was the way to "get asked out". Now that I think back on that; it's pretty messed up...This has created a stream of consciousness thinking that leads to the idea "If you aren't getting asked out, then you aren't desirable or worth it."

2) We've all had experiences where we've put ourselves out there and regretted it later. If you haven't had such experiences, then congratulations and I hate you. For the rest of us, it stings like a fresh sunburn to your soul. (For the record, I have no idea where that simile just came from...) If you're a guy and you've had this experience, then you're expected to chock it up as a loss, tell yourself you're better off without her, keep it moving, and try again. However, if you're a girl, and you've been burned by putting yourself out there, it becomes possible to let the idea slip into your mind of "Well, that's why I'm supposed to guard myself and not initiate dates..." Guys don't get a second glance for pursuing a girl, that's the "normal" way. Flip the script. Girls can easily be perceived as too aggressive, needy, and clingy by pursuing a date. It's a tough balance.

3) Simply put, many girls still have traditional values and want to be courted. We want to know that the guy we're interested in is a responsible man. We expect the guy to initiate contact and initiate the date, but there's a fine line for him, too. If he takes too much initiative, girls go on the defense and call him a creeper. If he doesn't take initiative, we write him off as being disinterested or lacking gumption. We're jaded and hard to please; I know. I've often wondered how many potential dates I've missed out on for these reasons.

4) Girls are told it's manly to take initiative and pursue a date. Obviously, the connotation associated with a girl being manly here is a negative one. In my career, initiative is a must. However, I'm expected to turn that initiative gumption off as soon as I log into match.com (which has been as fun as swimming with a cinder block tied to my waist lately..). Also, if the girl is being manly in the relationship, then that leaves the man to be *GASP* emasculated and in a more feminine role. Even writing this feels ridiculous, but, if we're all being honest here, these are the thoughts absolutely still apply to dating in our generation.

5) In dating, girls are supposed to play hard to get. If a girl initiates contact, her gig is up. How can she still play the cat and mouse game? I have to re-think my entire premise of dating if I'm letting go of this game. I don't know if it's from my upbringing, media, or past experiences, but somewhere in my mind I've believed that all dating relationships must have a cat. And they must have a mouse. Someone has to be the primary chaser, and someone has to be caught. It wasn't until recently that I began thinking, "Wait..Can we both be cats...What if we share the role of pursuit..?" I don't know what that looks like, but, it sounds lovely, right?

Of course, there are more reasons running around in my head. Anytime I see a guy from match.com that I might be interested in, I entertain both thought camps in my head.
"Heather, just send him a message...Get a flipping grip..."
"No, Heather, don't. If it's meant to be, he'll see your profile and send you a message."
"That's ridiculous. What if he never sees my profile and this is my one chance to meet this guy?"
"Stop, Heather. If you message him he's going to think you're too aggressive and needy."
What happens next varies. If old-school Heather wins the debate, I usually just log off match or set my phone down. If new-school Heather wins, I might like a photo, send a "wink" (soooo weird), or send a brief message. (Bold moves, I know....not..)

I can't tell you I'm ever 100% confident with either choice. I also can't tell you that either choice is really working out for me. I take pride in my independence, confidence, and my ability to speak up for myself and for others every day. However, I still struggle with the balance about how I want to create dating opportunities. As I write this, it seems as if I live a largely modern life, except when it comes to dating. Again, I don't know how to feel about this or resolve this. Maybe I'm okay with that, but maybe I'm doing this wrong.

-Heather

P.S., The "Well, we can have kids and change that" guy from a few posts ago has now sent me two more potentially drug/alcohol induced and typo-infused messages. I am WINNING at match.com, y'all.

A note from Holly:

Wow, so Heather basically nailed #thestruggleisreal. While I understand the sides that Heather outlines above, this usually becomes a bit easier for me. Perhaps it's because I've always been a fan of fairytales or perhaps it's because I'm so ridiculously happy being a dainty girl that I need someone ridiculously happy at being a confident man. Otherwise, I fear we won't have a fair balance...

I understand the girls who aspire to the "feminist" side of things but I don't think I've ever faced a situation where I personally felt obligated to define my stance. I've never been super athletic, so I never felt the need to claim my physical superiority over a man and, please no one be offended by this, but I never felt like I needed prove my intelligence either.

However, after reading Heather's original blog, my immediate reaction was to come to the concrete resolution that any man for me would be courageous enough to initiate contact because courage is something I would expect him to teach our son...no sooner had I thought that than immediate red flags popped up all over my formerly decisive conscious...why can't I teach my son courage? Why can't I teach my son and daughter courage? I am FULL of courage. I'll spare you a long list of evidence but in short, bravery is something I consider a core value. So finally, here it is. It's not a question of physical abilities or intelligence but it's the issue that even I expect him to bring certain things to the table that I shouldn't...and that stresses me out y'all. 

If I wasn't over analyzing this aspect of things before, I certainly am now. Go back to my original post. I'm not sure I want any of this dating business. Prior to this blog, I would have told you that he should have contacted me. Now, let's just avoid the whole messy situation altogether.

Sorry for the gloom and doom.

Hugs and frogs,

Heather and Holly