The Guilt Tripper and The Resurgent

Heather here.

The Guilt Tripper sounds like the name of a new Will Ferrell movie…The Resurgent sounds like a Nicholas Cage movie. I just googled both of those to see if they were already movie titles and thus, unable to be used as nicknames here. They’re not! How about that…...I’m writing this to get Holly off my back (I bet her $10 that I would write something by tonight….) and because I recognize we’ve been quiet.

I should start off by saying the Guilt Tripper isn’t being called that because he purposely tried to make me feel guilty, but, it happened nonetheless. Let me explain.

I met the Guilt Tripper on Match.com. He was nice, a die-hard KU fan, and persistent. We had plans to meet for dinner on a Sunday (coincidentally the same day I planned to have brunch with another guy……scandalous, I know…). However, I got REALLY sick that Saturday night and had to cancel plans with both dates. I hated cancelling, but the chances of me keeping food down were minimal-and any chance of making a decent first impression was zonked. (Zonked: adj, exhausted; tired out). He tried to reschedule for the following weekend, but I was already booked with some dog stuff. I’m not sure if he bought my excuse, but, it was legit. So, we rescheduled for the FOLLOWING weekend for 2 pm at a coffee/brunch spot. I then had a conversation with my roommate about how weird it was to meet at 2 pm (Am I supposed to eat lunch? Not eat lunch? Coffee? Snack? What would a normal person do at 2pm meeting someone for the first time?)

The day of the confusing 2 pm date, I lounged around until it was time to hop in the shower. I checked my texts to confirm where we were meeting AND THEN OMG YOU GUYS I REALIZED I WAS ACTUALLY SUPPOSED TO BE THERE AT 1 P.M. BUT IT WAS 12:40 WHEN I LOOKED AT MY PHONE AND I HADN’T WASHED MY HAIR IN TWO DAYS OMG AND THE PANIC THAT TOOK OVER MY BODY MADE IT ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE TO EVEN TEXT THE GUY AND I SCREAMED AND RAN UPSTAIRS AND YELLED AT MY ROOMMATE ABOUT HOW STUPID I AM AND THEN SCREAMED AND SHOWERED AND DIED.

………………..I fumbled through an apologetic text about how I was going to be..ahem…an hour late.

So, at this point..I had cancelled on this guy two weeks before, had an excuse about why I couldn’t meet the following weekend, and now I’m texting him 15 minutes before I’m supposed to be there to say that I’m running an hour late.

Just call me Considerate Connie, y’all. Or Kind Kylie. Or Selfless Sally.

(You all know I’m kidding, right?)

Anyway. So Guilt Tripper agrees to meet at 2pm instead of 1 pm. I got there around 1:50 (I didn’t really think those 10 minutes would redeem my actions, but it didn’t hurt to try..).

YOU GUYS. THE DATE WAS AWFUL AND TERRIBLE.

We fumbled through the most tense, cringe-worthy, and awkward conversation I’ve probably ever had. I was incredibly apologetic (and he wasn’t super kind about it…which I get…but still..), and then  he made a semi-racist comment that I couldn’t overlook. (Is semi-racist a thing? Actually..probably not..Let me rephrase that..) He made a racist comment that I couldn’t overlook.

And then the date ended, and I got in my car. I felt guilty that I had been such a flake leading up to meeting him, but then I felt guilty for feeling guilty because this guy WAS NO GEM. I called my friend and relived the horror of these happenings. I proceeded about my day sure that I would never hear from him again, because there was NO way he could think a) that I was a decent person and b)that the date had gone well.

And then he texted that night. And the next weekend. UGH. And then I felt guilty as I reminded myself how much of a flake I had been…and was being.. but. At the end of the day, the Guilt Tripper was probably the worst date I’ve been on....Yuck.

The Resurgent is actually a previously blogged character who had..well..re-emerged into the picture. Since I already rambled about The Guilt Tripper for so long, I’ll keep this brief. The Resurgent came back into the picture, but isn’t in the picture now. He’s a rare bird (I know I’m a pot calling a kettle black on this guys, I knowwwwwwwww) and admitted that when we went out before, he had actually met another girl (who he described as a "crazy girl") around the same time and decided to continue seeing her, rather than me. He attributed this to his history of being attracted to adventure/excitement. When it didn’t work out with crazy girl and The Resurgent, he contacted me again. It’s humbling to have a guy tell you to your face that he picked a different girl over you, but it’s odd when he’s telling you in the context of almost asking for a do-over. We did see each other an additional handful of times after his resurgence.

However, for a myriad of reasons that are too lengthy for me to delve into, I decided The Resurgent and I weren’t going to hack it. And that’s the end of that. The Resurgent knows about this blog and has read it before, so, there's a good chance he'll read this, which is another reason I'm being vague.

A note from Holly:

I just want to provide a little more context to this situation as I feel that Heather was too kind. Especially regarding The Resurgent....because here's the deal...the Resurgent is a jerk. No one can disagree with me because I still have screenshots of text message exchanges between him and my baby sis and my opinion is unwavering. 

And now, Hinge taglines:

 Well done, Ben D. I see your mad Fresh Prince skills.

 

Soooo....is now a good time to tell Brad that I actually can't swim? Is skinny drowning a thing?

BRENDAN! I need someone to explain Obamacare to me too!!!

This is weird to me. It's weird, right?

 Bahahaha!

 Damien, sugar, if you're asking for IT help in your tagline, I'm going to have to rule you out as my fix-it man... 

 WHAT?! I can't even process what you're trying to say here, Jared.

 Mike. You're my man. I get you.

 Look Mitchell, history tells me that I've got a pretty bad gaydar but this seems concerning to me.

 It's funny because you must in order for you to show up on Hinge. Well played, Pat D.

Paul, I'm obviously not a pro at this whole dating thing. However, I do know one thing with absolute certainty: If you have to tell me that you're an alpha male, you're doing it wrong! Seriously! If you're an alpha male, you don't need to tell people...sorta like telling people that you're the life of the party. If you are, everyone at the party knows it and they don't need you to announce it. Also, you saying that you "work best with sweet, easy going girls" basically translates to me thinking you've got a promising future as a wife beater. Paul K. was an easy left swipe.

Hugs and Frogs,

Heather and Holly

Alllllllllll aboard!

A note from Holly:

Well, life has gotten the better of Heather and I and while we've been having plenty of adventures, we've been pretty silent on the dating blog front. Part of that is intentional, part of that is quite simply a reflection of the lack of organization in my life.

I know that during our last post I left you all with a little bit of a cliff hanger: I had a date. Truth be told, I had three...with the same boy...To most of you, this will seem like nothing. However, this broke a six year dry spell for me so it's a pretty big milestone as far as I'm concerned.

Before I dive into the details of said date(s), you should know that the first one got off to a rocky start. I had a really weird day going into it. Like, really weird. I won't go into details now (I'll save them for a rainy day blog post entitled "A first-hand look at sexism in the workplace" and "How to respond to Uber drivers who say you look like sunshine and keep texting you after you get out of the car." They'll be swell posts.)

Now I want to give the caveat that this is not an average Tuesday for me. However, it rattled me and going into my date, I walked in with a HUGE chip on my shoulder...

So, the boy...let's call him J.D. (this seems appropriate as he is currently in law school) initially messaged me on Christian Mingle. We exchanged messages for about a week before he asked me to coffee. It then took us another week to find a time to meet so we actually wound up messaging one another for about two weeks prior to meeting. We messaged about a lot of things...about God and previous relationships and our mutual love of coffee but really, I think this may have made me go into the first date at an awkward place. I felt like I knew quite a bit about a boy I'd never really met and that's just a weird feeling. We went to coffee at one of my favorite coffee places, Ebenezers Coffeehouse, and my Uber driver actually drove me around the block first so I could get a look at him. Unnecessary? Sure. Would I do it again? Absolutely.

My text to Heth mid-date. (Don't judge me.
I'm really self-conscious about my nose
and want my kids to get a different one.)

I obviously won't provide a play by play but J.D. seemed legit. So legit, that I'm not sure if I began to intentionally self sabotage to test him or to try to remove him from my list of prospects quickly. Either way, I came at him guns-a-blazing. Over the span of the evening (we were there for three hours) I told him I a) hated Christian Mingle and thought I had a stalker (see photo evidence below); b) that I didn't really want a boyfriend and that I was only dating because I had committed to blogging about frogs with my sister as a distraction so that when I adopted a Chinese baby to raise it by myself, which is what I really wanted to do, nobody could tell me I hadn't tried to get married; and c) that I hadn't been on a date in six years. He countered each of these seemingly unphased. He listened to my story about the church stalker and provided advice (he actually sent a screenshot of big nose glasses the following day and suggested I try that out), he told me he thought it was cool that I wanted to adopt and talked about members of his family who have adopted, and when I said this was my first date in six years, he just calmly asked why I hadn't been interested in dating before.

Listen boy, I'm throwing all my crazy at you. Run. Scream. Go the bathroom and never come back. Have your best friend call you and act like there's an emergency. Cry. Do something other than offer to drive me home so I wouldn't have to take the metro or pay for an Uber...but that's what he did. And then he asked if we could have dinner the following week.

Color me shocked.

So, we had our second date the following week. He picked me up at my house, opened the car door, made reservations at a place his friends had recommend, and then we walked around Old Town Alexandria. He was wonderful and offered to let me shop if I wanted (he said he wouldn't mind) but we just did some window shopping where he shared that he wants his house to someday consist of Restoration Hardware furniture and he supports my love of stationary. It was lovely. He dropped me off, we both said we had a great time, and he said I should let him know if I wanted to get together again.

Things got weird after this. I won't bore you by writing it all out but essentially, the communication we had been having consistently, took a weird turn. I began to over analyze everything because I'm a girl, and as discussed above, a seemingly crazy one, so friends and co-workers got involved and the whole thing got to be a muddled mess. Since he didn't set up the next date, I thought he wanted me to make the next move, but then I thought that was forward and then friends thought that it was and that it wasn't and ultimately we got a third date on the calendar but I felt really anxious about it. So anxious in fact that I texted him the night before and asked if he WANTED to go on the date. He said "Of course!" I said I just wanted him to know that if he didn't want to, that was totally fine and we didn't have to go. He insisted that he wanted to go and so, the next night, we went to Hill Country Barbeque (with all the confusion and dissecting of every single word he said and input from girls and guys and couples and singles and everyone and their dog, we had all concluded that I was supposed to plan this one, hence, the trip to Hill Country). However, the whole thing was weird. I asked him if he thought there was anything I should know about him that I didn't, as I was prepared to offer up a few things, like the fact that I don't drink, but he said he didn't know of anything and he kept apologizing for not having anything to talk about....so....I panicked. I panicked and I told him that I knew his last name because I had googled him and then I asked him what his views were on gay marriage.

Sigh. Oh, people. Ugh.

As if that wasn't bad enough, I then proceeded to ask him MULTIPLE questions about his ex-girlfriend on our way home.

It was like being the conductor of a crashing train.

We came back to my house, he walked me to door, we both said we had a great time, and we never spoke again.

Sigh again.

I know I've shared in previous posts that I don't think I want this. I'm also no longer comfortable with the idea of wasting my time. I think both of these sentiments factored in to my behavior and ultimately the lack of success between J.D. and I. However, while some of my conversations may seem horrific, I stand by the fact that the core of these conversations stem from things that are important to me so I'm not entirely sorry that they came up. Additionally, J.D. and I didn't seem to have much physical chemistry...and despite any crazy talk, I'm still going to need him to want to hold my hand.

Overall, the whole thing made me feel even less put together than when I was 16...and people, my dating choices at 16 were a hot mess. However, J.D. was perfect on paper and in action. He opened doors, he made decisions (none of this "where do you want to eat, at what time do you want to eat, are you sure want to eat there, are you positive that time works for you, do you want to drive, run, walk, metro, Uber, or race there" kind of nonsense), he wasn't pushy or insincere and I have no doubt that J.D. will be a wonderful match for someone. I wish him all the best out there.

To finalize my little update, here are the deets on that stalker:

He sent this first message after I had ignored MULTIPLE messages, chat attempts, and "smiles" from this guy. I had looked at his profile and for a number of reasons decided I wasn't interested but anthony77k here felt it necessary to not lose faith in talking to me. This infuriated me; it still does really. I have the right to decide not to talk to you. Harassing me by sending multiple messages across multiple channels does not increase the likelihood of me responding to one or that you will suddenly grow in favor with me. In fact, quite the opposite will happen as I interpret this kind of behavior as being chauvinistic, inconsiderate and desperate. I find none of those qualities to be desirable.

I actually sent this screen shot to Heather and we had a conversation discussing just how creepy and pushy this message was. However, things took a turn for the worse when I got this next message that next Sunday.

This one creeped me out so much more than I can express because it means that while I was in the middle of worshiping he was either logging into Christian Mingle to look at my pictures to see if it was me, he had already looked my pictures enough times to recognize me on the spot OR he had actually discovered where I lived and had followed me to church.

After I got this, I briefly considered going to another church, or at least another service. However, I'm not a pushover and I truly welcome any opportunity to personally tell this individual, who I would not recognize on the spot, exactly how alarming and offensive I find his actions to be. Should he not respond well to that, I have zero problems in calling the po-po, yo!

I never responded to this message and I blocked him.

Ten kinds of creepy.

A note from Heather:

Hi, folks. I commend Holly for a) putting herself out there and b) describing herself as the conductor of a crashing train. I'm going to stop you all from thinking to yourselves about how cringe-worthy those interactions with J.D. and how Holly must be clueless and helpless. She isn't clueless; she knows it was cringe-worthy. Back off.

I should also address that the response I got from the last post was part awesome and part not awesome. It was cathartic and relieving, but also a level of vulnerability I don't intend to make it a habit of dabbling in. I'm surprised by how many people who I thought were close to me that expressed shock about those feelings of mine. I've taken it as a testament to my "closed-book" personality, rather than reading more into it.

I've had a few dates here and there, which we can save for another post. At the moment though, I'm still single and only committed to the partially-eaten brownie sitting in front of me.

Hugs and frogs,
Holly & Heather

To those who failed with me:

A note from Heather:

To those who failed with me:

I chose that salutation intentionally. I chose it because at the core of the past relationships I'm referencing in this, we all had the same intentions. To end up together. We failed. It's easy for me to blame you and maintain the perspective that YOU failed at our relationship. Ultimately, it doesn't matter...we both failed. Sure, one of us probably failed more than the other and thus, the blame probably lies more heavily on my shoulders or yours. Our lives would be different if we had succeeded, and that's the truth. It could be twisted that I'm meshing together experiences from multiple relationships here, but they're all genuine and all authentic.

I rarely find a conflict between my head and my heart, but you'll always be there. You'll always exist in that spot. It's a spot I don't acknowledge often, as I always side with my head. But you're there, and you're the reminder that I'm a human with faults, and conflicts, and a longing to be a girl who thinks with her heart. But that isn't me.

I miss someone going out of their way to make childish inside jokes with me...things that only you and I would catch on to. We were kids. Yeah, it was elementary, but I miss our jokes about honeymoon destinations and making code words to exchange "I love you" instead of actually saying those three words. Every so often I hear from you, and you have a knack for finding a way to reference these inside jokes. I grasp for reality, completely jarred by you. I usually respond with a snide and dismissive comment, because that's all I can manage to keep myself from losing grip of the reality. The reality that we failed. I have to say something to make it clear that you don't matter to me, but that isn't true. I've received messages from you while in QuikTrip parking lots and coffee shops, where I've literally sat frozen for minutes trying to grasp reality. It's a painful process in which I remember why our reality exists, and that's because I didn't mean enough to you. I wasn't what you wanted.

I always defended you, and I know you defended me. I doubt you defend me anymore, but I think it's worth noting that I haven't changed a lot from the girl who you stood by for those years. The only thing that has changed is that you don't care now. And as you read this, I imagine you will puff your chest out with pride at the fact that you no longer care. The thought of that literally pains me and my hands grow hot as I type those words. I know it's reality, though. I never thought about a day when you wouldn't care, but I know one of my biggest faults with us is that I wasn't thinking far enough ahead.

I hate that I made you such a priority when you rarely followed through. I hung onto your words and re-read text messages from you, always trying to time and word my response perfectly. I hoped a perfect response would make you care. In your defense, I expected you to follow through as we tried to maintain our friendship after dating, and our dating end was an unfortunate one. I dumped you and came home to find you had already arranged to have flowers delivered to me. I had told you I was probably getting back together with an ex. That wasn't true.

I've held on to anger and pain toward you for many reasons. I can't imagine what it feels like to know you hurt someone like you hurt me. I've never let you forget it. I plan to make a better effort to be more graceful in my interactions with you.

We shared incredibly emotional times with each other. We both took advantage of the fact that I was there for you during some really dark times, and you stood by me during some dark times as well.  I used it to think that you needed me, wanted me, and wouldn't leave. You used it to cling to me and subconsciously think I could be your savior.

Sometimes people ask about you. I wonder if people ask you about me. I wonder what you tell them.

I miss knowing that someone, as shallow as this sounds, would always think I was pretty. I miss knowing that someone got butterflies when I came around, and had no shame in letting me know, even when I took advantage of that. Compliments from you were abundant, but they never lost their impact.

I miss reminding you of how much potential you had to be a good guy. I held you to a higher standard and nagged you because I knew you were capable of more. I hope you know I still care. I remember the night I found out you had moved on...sometimes my ability to cyber stalk people results in regret. I knew what I was going to find, but seeing her face next to yours in a photo felt like a betrayal. It hurt even more to acknowledge that I didn't have a right to feel betrayed.

I'll always miss your family and most of all, miss being accepted by your family. They meant so much to me.

I'll never be able to apologize to you like I should. I acknowledge that, and it's messed up. I felt pressure from you and ultimately, I caved under that pressure. I do okay with pressure typically, but not in relationships. I know we weren't right together then, but I think you would have done anything to make us right. I didn't give you that chance. I was never fully honest with you about why we had to end. I know you're happy now, which does make me happy. You found the girl that I wasn't.

I miss you being protective, and me pretending (in my feminist way) that I was offended by that. I wasn't. It always made me feel good to be worth protecting...not necessarily that I think I'm weak or without value otherwise, just thinking that you cared enough about me to protect me...It's manipulative of me and unhealthy, but here I am.

I had bouts of courage and pride where I could say just the right thing to stick a knife in your heart. I hate that I always did that. I'm the queen of one-liners and they keep a wall up to avoid vulnerability.

You and I were both all-in. We were never all-in at the same time, though. You became burnt out with me and by the time I was all-in, you were done.

I don't know if I can say that I forgive you or if I'm fully capable of that. I do know I haven't forgotten. I haven't forgotten everything that happened. I won't forget the night that I found out you had moved on. I got off the phone nonchalantly while regretting that I had called you that night. I sobbed so hysterically that I gagged myself accidentally. You don't know that. I'll never tell you directly. I cared that much after all that time. I also haven't forgotten the good things, but at times I wish I did.

We all failed, but I'm not sure we can say we both really tried.

A note from Holly:

Wow, I just....*sigh* Ouch. Just ouch. Even though Heather and I dated different people (mostly) and had very different relationships (sorta), this post hurts.

It reminds me of a time in elementary school when I saw a classmate fall off the jungle gym. She couldn't breathe. The teachers came running over stating that she "got the wind knocked out of her."

While they were picking her up and rubbing her back, I cried.

That's what this post feels like to me. It feels like the pain actually happened to someone else...it's Heather that got the wind knocked out of her...but all I want to do is cry.

I doubt I'm the only one who feels this way. It's hard to read something and have it hit so close to home that you actually feel like you're reading your own story. Frankly, this realization comes at a difficult time for me. I could blame Adele and the perfection that is "Hello," but I think the circumstances of this week have forced me to take on new battles with some very old feelings. Those of you who know me well, know that this is a battle I've been fighting for a while...

But I want to take a moment to say I'm so proud of Heather for writing this. Frankly, it's the first piece she's written where I felt I got to learn a little bit more about her. I know her pretty well, my kid sister, but I guess we all have things that we just don't want to talk about. Thanks for talking about it, kid.

Hugs and frogs,
Heather and Holly

Well, I went speed dating.

Holly here.

I could start this post off talking about how this was a low point, or that I had to talk myself into this idea...and while both statements might be accurate, I really want the focus of this article to be that I am literally doing all I can here, folks.

I recently had dinner with a friend I haven't seen in a awhile. We discussed her boyfriend (likely to be fiance soon) and then the conversation turned to my dating life. I mentioned that I was approaching my "six years without a dateaversary" and she said "Girl, you've got to put yourself out there!"

...

At that point, it seemed the only logical thing to do was to ask her for her keys. After I impaled her with my fork, it would only be right to drive her to the emergency room. Anything less than that would be unsouthern.

But seriously. I will cut you.

Moving on....

When I first saw a Groupon for speed-dating, I'll admit that I was little excited. Oh! The possibilities! I was able to convey my excitement to a single friend, Eva, who agreed to purchase not one, but TWO speed dating event tickets with me!

Wahoo!

Morning Face-timing while Heather brushes her teeth.

As you may have suspected, the excitement dwindled. Heather tried to help by face timing with me the morning of the event to discuss important matters, like what was I going to wear?! (Skinny jeans, nude heels, and a black tank and cardigan). She told me that I looked like the girl who told the X-Men what to do. Actually, not just the X-Men but all superheros...This was mildly comforting as I do feel like I would rock that job...

However, when I finally met up with Eva last Friday, we both required some serious coercion in order to get us through that speed-dating door. We had to pre-game at a coffee shop and people, we both poured PLENTY of sugar in that coffee! PUHLENTY!

And then, in true "digging my heels in, I don't want to do this" fashion, I even Ubered the two blocks from the coffee shop to the event. Our Uber driver asked us if we were going out for a fun night. We explained our night. He then said "You don't need speed dating!" Oh sweet Darren...do you have time to go around the block? Let me tell you all about how I've landed here.

Going in, we really weren't sure what to expect. When selecting a speed dating event, you had to pick a category and there were TONS of categories: ones for people in specific age brackets, ones for specific religions, ones for specific sexual preferences, and ones for specific careers/graduate degrees. It was exhausting even finding one that both Eva and I wanted to go to, and, having settled on a more generic 25-39 event, we weren't really sure who else would be there. The simple answer is no one .No one else would be there. Even with a 30 minute delayed start, we had six girls and fourteen guys. Yup. You read that correctly.

The unequal numbering caused a few issues:

First of all, they allowed the women to go in first and instructed us to sit at an odd numbered table. This was problematic as Eva and I had already sworn to sit next to each other NO MATTER WHAT. We were being split it up! Panic! So much panic!

Secondly, this meant that the guys had downtime...to sit at an empty table, in between two active conversations and, play on their phones, make detailed notes about the girl they were just speaking to, or, the most popular option: eavesdrop. It was SO creepy to have the organizers ring the bell and then have the next guy come to your table and pick up where your last conversation had left off...or open the conversation by saying "I won't ask you where you're from or what you do, I heard you explain it to that other guy."

I was super creepy and took a picture of Eva while she was talking.
Yes, this does mean I took the picture while I was talking myself.

Lastly, the worst consequence of uneven numbering was the feeling of being a maimed monkey in shark infested water. Why am I in the ocean? How did I get here? I can't swim! Where's a tree? Why are there so many sharks? SO MANY! Why do they keep circling? Yeah...all good questions, my poor monkey friend...all good questions.

I'll spare you a detailed encounter of my evening but will say that it lasted two hours, we rotated every six minutes, and they gave you a paper so that you could rank people and take notes.The idea was that you would then go back to the organizer's website and identify people you liked. If they liked you back, then the organizers would provide you with contact information. I'm going to eliminate your suspense: I didn't want to match with anybody.

Ssssssssooooooo, while I did meet 14 unique and mostly charming gentlemen, I will take a moment to share a few of my favorites:

1. Mr. Arrogant. This guy was relatively handsome but, my gosh, he was condescending. He asked me where I was from, I proudly said Oklahoma, and then he proceeded to talk to me about how he had lived in Ponca City growing up but was so glad that he had gotten out and "expanded his world view." He talked about how he had lived in Germany for a bit and how it's so important to be aware of different cultures. He then tried to "help me out" by providing some guidance for "city living" as he was sure the the transition from Oklahoma to D.C. was hard for me...I wanted to hit him. Seriously.You pompous little sucker! You don't know me! The only part of our interaction that I enjoyed was when the bell rang and he moved to the next table where I know he heard me have a conversation, in MANDARIN, with a man who works in international policy with a concentration in Asian relations. I know you heard me Mr. Arrogant, and you should know that I saw you, when your stubbly little chin hit the floor. Friggin talk to me about expanding my horizons...why I oughtta...ggggrrrrrrrrrrr...

2. Mr. Algorithm. This kid. This kid. I didn't even know what to do with him. When he sat down, I noticed that he had been working on some kind of physics/calculus/something with letters AND numbers, on the back of his scoring sheet. So, I asked him what he was working on. He then proceeded to talk with an accent so thick, and with so much enthusiasm, that I barely understood him. "OOOOOOOoooooooo! It is algorithm! To...the...calculate...*high-pitched gleeful giggle* and it will...the...oooooooooooooOOOOOOoooooo....hehehehe!" "Well, Mr. Algorithm, What will you do with it? I mean, what is the purpose of the formula?" He then stared at me straight-faced, leaned forward and pointed to his head. "To know. TO KNOW!" Ah...sugar...you would hate me. I wish you the best in life but the only thing I want to understand is how to keep my hair from frizzing in high humidity.

3. Mr. Serial. This little nugget was from Baltimore. That's really all I know about him as a person because when I commented that "it must have been nice growing up in Baltimore," he said he didn't find it as enchanting as some people do. I said "Oh really? Is it more like they describe it in Serial? There's drug dealers everywhere and streakers find bodies in parks?" He had no idea what I was talking about. After I explained about the podcast, he said "Oh, wait. Is that about the girl from Woodlawn High School that got murdered at Best Buy?" I confirmed and then he said "Oh yeah. My sister went to school with her." Awkward pause. Oh...okay...and then he said "Yeah, she actually thinks that they should question the boyfriend that she had BEFORE the guy they arrested." WHAT?!?! Hae had a boyfriend prior to Adnan?! This guy proceeded to tell me all about his sister's theory and why the stories don't add up. About halfway through our time he said "Are you sure you want to talk about this? It's a little dark..." I assured him that this was the best conversation I'd had all night!!!!!! SOMEONE CALL SARAH KOENIG!!! GET HER ON THE PHONE NOW!! I HAVE THE ANSWERS!!!!

4. Mr. Adorable. I'm not really sure how to describe Mr. Adorable other than to say he was a rocket scientist, widowed, and the father of a two-year-old. He was absolutely precious and sweet and kind. Talking with him really put my situation in perspective. Even though I grow increasingly tired and frustrated and, at times, straight-up angry about this whole thing, this must be ten times harder for him. During his conversation with Eva he actually had to leave a bit early because his alarm went off which told him that it was time to go pick up his daughter. I want good things for him. I want so many amazing things for Mr. Adorable. I don't think that we're a good fit but by golly, Eva and I will both babysit your daughter while you keep looking, Mr. Adorable! We've got your back!



The aftermath.

In hindsight, the night wasn't too awful. I mean, this is coming from a girl who literally teaches people how to have conversations with strangers (shoutout to being a Special Recruitment Consultant...I'm sure all those men now want to be in my sorority) but still, even if I was nervous about talking to strangers, I don't think it would have been that bad. It was a fun night with Eva but we were both SO exhausted at the end of it. I mean, even though my four cases above were some of my highlights, there were also a lot of weird questions (If I was going on a road trip with your best friend, what would they say about you?) and a lot of creepy feels (Can I have your number now?) and guys...the whole thing is just tiring. I've been at this since March and I'm tired. I'm doing everything I know how to do and aside from a street corner, there is no where left for me to put myself.

Well, at least that was where I ended the night last night Friday...but do you want a little sneak peek of my next blog?

It's called "Well, I had a date. "

;)

A note from Heather:

Go Holly!

Another note from Heather:
Holly wrote the previous note.

I have expanded my dating horizon to now include Hinge and Bumble, which are 2 apps Holly has mentioned in previous posts. Unfortunately, my only comment about them at this time is that I now have the opportunity to sometimes decline the same guy on match.com, tinder, hinge, and bumble. Yes, friends, this has happened multiple times. Don't get it twisted and think I'm sounding cocky here.....I'm not turning down prince charming, trust me...

Like Holly, I'm also tired. I've somewhat neglected conversations and interest from guys, but I'm just in a place where I feel unmotivated with it all. Every conversation feels redundant and uninspired. It's a lot of work, and reaching a pay off seems a) evasive and b)unlikely. At an event through my job where I was surrounded by kiddos all day, I had the most precious little boy comment about how pretty I was (the Incredible Pizza mascot also commented about how pretty I was and tried to introduce himself to me...but that's another story...) and noted he wanted to be a gentleman and get a straw for me. Then, the little boy asked if I was married. Then, the little boy asked "someone doesn't want to marry you?". Then, the little boy asked if I was always sad. Straight outta the mouth of babes, y'all.

(For the record, I'm rarely sad, and definitely not sad about being single.)

I'll pep up and get my head back in the game.

Hugs and Frogs,
Holly and Heather

I am the rule; not the exception.

A note from Holly:

I first read He's Just Not That Into You when I was 21. I was in a relationship with Ground Zero and frankly, read the book to provide "proof" that he wasn't treating me the way I thought I should be treated. I was really into picking fights for no good reason and this provided enough ammo for an ambush. Let's take a moment (a brief one) and feel sorry for Ground Zero. Okay, time's up.

Despite my interest in over-simplifying the book to meet my needs, I did walk away with one life-changing conclusion: I am the rule, not the exception.

The book elaborates on this concept but I encourage you to let that resonate. We are the rule, not the exception. We will not be the ones to change him. We will not be the one that he doesn't cheat on. We will not be the one that he will run to after he realizes he married the wrong girl. We will not be the one he calls for a second date after six months. We are the rule, not the exception.

I remember reading that and feeling downright indignant. I am the exception. I am exceptional. I am destined for great things and am not bound by the rules that govern the masses.

And then I thought about it. For years, I thought about it.

And I am now freer that I have ever been...because I am the rule, not the exception. I am no longer responsible for trying to fit a square peg into a round a hole. I am no longer losing sleep trying to change someone else. I am no longer living my life waiting for proof that I am exceptional and that someone will miss me, call me, want me...

It's like the song says, "I can't make you love me if you don't." It's really kind of beautiful, isn't it?

I had this thought while talking with a boy recently. My mind starting to wander and I began to over think my mannerisms, my words, my lipstick, just all of it. And then I took a deep breath and remembered that this isn't on me. This isn't something I can force, wish, cry, or manipulate into existence.

I am the rule, not the exception...and I'm going to relish it.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hi all,

Heather here.

Holly has had her portion of this post written for a long time, but I've been procrastinating because I haven't known what to add. I haven't read He's Just Not That Into You, and I thought the movie was borderline dumb. However, I can understand how the sentiment resonates with many singles, even regardless of generation.

Many of you know what Tinder is and know the reputation it has. (If you don't, the basic gist is that it's an app where you swipe right or left based on someone's picture and blurb. A swipe to the right indicates you're interested. A swipe left indicates you aren't. Tinder has the reputation for being a breeding ground for hook ups, though I passionately defend it's ability to attract quality people, too. I mean..I'M ON THERE. Am I right, or am I right?) While scrolling through Tinder, I often come across guys' profiles that clearly indicate they're either married or in a relationship. I think this happens because Tinder automatically links with your Facebook account and automatically uses your Facebook photos on your Tinder profile. After reading Holly's post, I thought about how sad it is that the girls on the other side of these photos think that they're the exception.

I don't want to assume that all the guys on Tinder have physically cheated on these girls, but they certainly aren't winning Monogamist Male Of The Year any time soon. I also do NOT want to blame the girls for these guys' actions. It is NOT their fault that these guys are looking elsewhere. They may have had warning signs about these guys' character and may be choosing to stay, but they are not responsible for their decisions. As a girl who has been the girlfriend in the profile picture of a guy who was consistently unfaithful, I feel very strongly about that.

I know you all love photos of people we encounter on this journey, and I love exposing lying, cheating, jackwads. So what better way to mesh that than by posting a few of these? (Note: Faces, names, and ages are all blacked out. Also, photographer credits on photos have also been blacked out, as I doubt any photographers want to take credit for this, but maybe I'm wrong...) (Extra note: if one of these photos belongs to you, or you are one of the individuals in these photos and want it taken down, just shoot us an e-mail. The tone in my response to your e-mail will depend on whether you're the lying, cheating, jackwad or the girl in the photo.)

I'll call this series "Wedded Bliss":

I'll call this series "Not only am I cheating on my wife, but also my child..":

(Note: the wedding ring in the photo with the dogs.)

This one is titled "Ohhh the irony..":


The text on the sign she's holding says "Still Hitched" with hearts on it.



An excerpt from his blurb: "But I was put here to live and love. So what if I don't do it like everybody else does." Another two of his photos were from the same couple photo shoot...



The text in the photo is "As long as the river flows.."

This one was clearly a *newly engaged* photo, given the girls' pose to show off the ring.....

And I'll end on this one titled "Sometimes the lying, cheating jackwad gets caught..": (I had to blow up this photo so that you could read the blurb below his name yourselves..)

Also, I feel like it's worth mentioning that I also came across the Tinder profile of a guy I went to highschool with. I wouldn't call him a friend, but more of an acquaintance. Because I am FB friends with this guy, I know that he is ENGAGED. It's one thing to come across these profiles and find strangers that are being unfaithful, but it's another when it's someone you know...He isn't pictured, but I came thhhiiiiisssss close to posting it....(Holly here. For reals. She wants blood and/or justice on this one).

It's humbling and disgusting to know that my profile is one of the profiles that guys like this go through when they're scrolling through Tinder. I feel somewhat guilty knowing that I'm part of a system that can be so hurtful to girls on the other end of the photos..girls that think they're the exception, not the rule. I've been there..

Hugs and frogs,

Holly & Heather

When I'm no longer young and beautiful.

Holly here.

I remember when Young and Beautiful by Lana Del Rey first came out. I hated it. In fact, I loathed it so much that I texted Heather to make sure my seething hatred wasn't misplaced. Per our sister standards, she validated my intolerance and, having received approval from my younger, yet wiser-on-all-things-pop-culture sister, I made every attempt to disregard it entirely...

However, much like the underlying sentiment of the song, it continued to stick around.

It first gained a nod of approval from me when I saw a Facebook post from a Disney friend stating that it's the song every princess sings to casting on re-look day. Bah! Bahaha! Do you get it? Will you still love me when I'm no longer young and beautiful? It's funny, right?


However, I still didn't appreciate the song until I watched Gatsby and I felt the song permeate my very core. It suddenly resonated with me on a level that it had yet to achieve during it's constant iterations on American Top 40. The song isn't simply a question of tolerance when one gets crows feet and laugh lines, it's a lament to time gone by...it's an acknowledgement that we change and a desperate plea to be there when all the good is gone.

That's when I downloaded the song....and I play it regularly. It speaks to me for the myriad of reasons listed above and also because I worry...I worry that I'm not pretty enough. I worry that any man I might start to date now missed me during my glory days. I worry that my desirability has greatly decreased...and I thought the song and I were done...that we had effectively communicated....until this past week.

Last week I had the immense pleasure, dare I say, exquisite journey of joining my very favorite sorority at JMU for formal recruitment as their Special Recruitment Consultant. I'm going to skip lots of the details and just dive into the fact that I stayed in a sorority house, with precious girls, and I didn't respond to e-mails, and I ate pizza and Jimmy Johns for every meal and I slept a combined total of 7 hours over a four day period.

And I listened to them fight with the boyfriends, talk about their boyfriends, curse at their boyfriends, make-up with their boyfriends, love their boyfriends, and talk about life-long plans with their boyfriends.

And I felt sucker punched.

I know why the song still resonates with me...it's not about the smile lines that I spend hours trying to cover or the jean sizes to which I may never return...I miss being young enough to love like that.

I found myself responding to their situations with such bitterness - such adultness.... Oh, your boyfriend is upset that you've been at recruitment all week? He realizes that he doesn't own you, right? Like, he gets that, yeah? Cuz if not, you should spell that out...Oh, your boyfriend took a picture with another girl at a party last night? Suck it up, buttercup! If he wants her, then let him have her! Oh, I'm sorry, your boyfriend wants you to go out for ice cream at 2 friggin a.m.?! Does he not realize that recruitment starts in 6 hours?!

*sigh*

I was with it all week and I can barely remember how it feels. I can only slightly recall how it feels to want to plan my day around someone else, to want to spend time with someone else, to value the input of someone else, to think someone else was worth altering the life I've worked so hard to build...on my own...doing what I want...when I want...

It's barely there...but it's there....and those were good times, folks. They were magnificent times.

Maybe this is a good thing...as I mentioned on our first blog, I'm not sure I want this. I'm not sure I want to be dated, married, attached...remembering the good stuff sure does make that seem like a better idea...but at the same time...it makes the rejection over the last 6 months seems all the more personal. I mean, it's obviously personal if I'm calling it rejection...matches with no conversations, conversations with no action, no action with, in a few cases, blatant disrespect.

But then again, I can sympathize with them. I want someone who would want to date spontaneous Holly...the "let's go get ice cream at 2 a.m." rather than the "we have responsibilities and expectations and no time for this foolishness." I want him to love crazily so why can't I? It's just hard....it's hard because my lack of youth has led to being jaded...cynical...untrusting...and it turns out, I don't worry as much about the loss of physical characteristics but my goodness, I fear the complete loss of being young.


Hi everyone,

Heather here. This post feels heavy and I'm not a fan, but it's the reality of this journey. I can't even find a funny meme to throw in here to lighten the mood.

I don't know how to follow that, but I can echo some of the sentiments Holly provided. I've thought about how impossible it must be to try and date someone as cynical as myself. I recognize that I go into most dates looking for the ways that it isn't going to work out. I wasn't always this way. I was once capable of being "love-struck" or "twitter-pated", though I don't see that ever being a reality for myself again. I didn't always go into a date overanalyzing all of the details of the arrangement or the person at the other end of the table. I didn't always go on the defensive at every person who tried to pursue me.

However, I won't exactly apologize for being that way now. Years of dating and spending time in relationships that were unfaithful, uninspired, and disrespectful have created the "don't-mess-with-me" monster that I am. If I didn't come out of those situations less likely to expose myself to that pain, then what did I learn? I don't mean that I'm a bitter old hag, and I don't mean that my "friends" are validated when they comment about how my standards are too high or that my walls are impossible to broach. I just mean that I now operate from a place of self-preservation and rarely find someone who I deem worthy of lessening my grasp on self-preservation. If that means I'm alone forever, so be it. I talked it over with my dog, and he's fine with it. If that means I meet someone who is okay with me proceeding through a relationship slowly, cautiously, and with my defensive battle armor (including chainmail..because..i mean..chainmail has to be included in this visual..) on, then so be it. I think my dog will be okay with that, too.

I disagree with Holly on one thing, though. Lana Del Rey's "Young and Beautiful" will never win me over.

Disclaimer: This isn't a pity party, though it definitely seems bleak, huh? This isn't a post to fish for compliments or comments about how "one day you'll find him!" or "you still have great years ahead of you to share with someone!" This is just a reality post about where we are right now.

Also, don't worry, folks. I've still got stories of crazies for y'all. I just haven't had time to write it out yet.