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.

Squints and Muscles

Hi everyone...Heather here.

I don't know how to make these updates cohesive or wrap this all up with a nice theme, so, I'm not going to. I would rather spend my energy on doing things that matter, like googling images of puppy and duck friendships or pretending that I'm a chef by cooking food sent to me by Hello Fresh. BTW-Cooking is hard and takes a long time. You know what isn't hard and doesn't take a long time? Rummaging through a box of shredded wheat and sipping a can of diet Dr. Pepper instead.

I digress.

I had another date. We'll call him Squints (In hindsight, he kinda resembled Squints from The Sandlot, but I didn't realize that before...) because he wore hipster/thick-rimmed glasses. Squints is a writer for a couple of publications in STL and he wrote a book. Weird.

The date went semi-well. We chatted about a lot of things, including 10 year HS reunions and him traveling through Cambodia or Machu Picchu or something. (I might need to work on my listening skills...)

Leaving the date was awkward. It was raining, and so we basically just ran out and Squints ran with me to my car. I had an umbrella, but, I felt like a pansy using it because he didn't have an umbrella. So, I literally ran in the rain while holding my umbrella underneath my arm. Cool move, Heather. Cool move.

The typical routine when leaving a date is this awkward dance of "Oh, I had a good time!".."Oh, me too!" .."Let's do something again soon!".."Oh, sounds good!".."Oh, text me when you get home!".."Oh, okay!" (I don't know why I'm pretending that every sentence starts with "Oh"...)...
However, because it was raining, this one was a quick "K bye!" (Which, if you know me at all, you know this is muuuuuuuuuuuuuch more my style....haha).

Neither of us said anything to each other that night....I started second guessing myself and wasn't sure if I had made it clear to Squints that I would want to hear from him again.....I broke down and texted Squints the following day to thank him for my drink and for meeting me. He responded a few hours later saying I was welcome and that it was nice to meet me, too.

And that's where it has ended. I have no reason to believe I'll ever hear from Squints again, which is fine. I'll live. On the other hand, I'd also be fine hearing from him again. So, I'll just sit here and bask in my stubbornness and refusal to initiate another conversation with him.

Moving on.

I started chatting with a guy from Match who turned out to be a bigger investigative creeper than I am. Let's call him Muscles (because he has them..and because he's a fitness trainer..and because I can't think of a better nickname) When he messaged me, I took screen shots of his photos to send to a few friends because Muscles is quite a looker. We messaged back and forth on Match for a bit, then he got my number and we texted for a few days. Of course, as soon as I had his first name and phone number, I was able to do all kinds of digging around online to figure out who he was. I learned enough to decide that he was probably a pretty good guy and probably wouldn't kill me and chop me up in little bags if I agreed to meet up with him.
 
The next day, I got a FB friend request from him and I nearly fell out of my chair.....and then rolled around on the floor...and then curled up in the fetal position because someone had finally out-creeped me and I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHO I AM ANYMORE! I don't know how he found me--considering that my first name is pretty common, he didn't know my last name, and my phone number isn't linked to my FB page. I can't even be creeped out by the fact that he was doing some digging around on me, because I had done the same thing. I just wasn't brazen enough to send him a friend request.

In an ironic turn of events (where I apparently was living in an alternate universe and breaking all of my own rules), I accepted Muscle's friend request.

..............And then I came to my senses, deleted Muscles off of my Facebook, and we haven't spoken sense.

Those are my best two stories for now...I'll hand the torch over to Holly.


Holly here...I mean, I don't have much to update with...and by "much" I mean any. Still a bumbling, hinging, mingling fool with zip to show for it....except for these little gems:

Woah. Slightly threatening but I don't hate it Alex...I share the same passionate viewpoint on brunch.

 

 

I feel like you're making a) a lot of assumptions and b) a lot of judgements. Maybe you're missing out because you do?! Ever think of that, Alex?

 

Bam. A man with a plan. Thanks for skipping the awkward "Where are you from?" chats. 

Confession appreciated and I also like long walks to Chipotle. Let's get married. 

 Bryan, if you can quote Ten Things I Hate About You on your tagline, then I basically trust you with my life. #seriously #canyoueverbejustwhelmed?

 PICK ME!!!!

I ALMOST wanted to know badly enough that I swiped right with sweet Fred here...almost...and now I'll just always wonder....

 What? Is that an empirically sound statement? I want some statistics for that one, Jared. And why is this your tagline?! I should swipe right with you because no one else will?

John, based on your sentence structure, your haphazardly placed period and your incorrect use of the adverb "snarkily," I feel you may not know how to do anything with a lady.

Keith. You sound adorable. However, you should know that while there is a LONG list of things we will not tell my mother, the fact that we met on here is not high enough on our list of priorities for us to spend much time dwelling on it.

 And I love a man who loves grills and slow cookers.

 ...

 ROBIN!!! ME TOO!!!!!!!!!

 TYLER!! I must find this song and relive my 7th grade year. Right. Now. Yuuupp...going on repeat.

Well, Willy, I suppose we should all be so lucky! Congrats on clearly and specifically identifying your type!

Hugs and frogs,

Heather and Holly

Everyday I'm bumblin'....

A note from Holly:

Christian Mingle stresses me out. Like, I don't want to mess with it...I dread the e-mails and opening the app on my phone gives me the same feels I experience when going in for blood work. Both require the same prayer: Please God, don't make me do this.

I knew I didn't like it, but I hadn't really thought about why I didn't like it until a few weeks ago at a dinner with Lovie. Lovie and I work together in Gamma Phi Beta land and she has been a great asset in my dating ventures. She's good for me in that she's a little less cautious and a lot more vocal about going after what she wants. She asked about my dating escapades and I was walking her through my recent Christian Mingle commitment. I was explaining that I was feeling really overwhelmed by it and she asked to see it. I started showing her my profile and while browsing we got a notification that someone wanted to chat. We declined. I kid you not, 10 seconds later, the same guy asked again. We declined again.

This is one of a thousand reasons I don't even like opening the website/app. Before I can switch to "offline," people are already trying to "chat." I don't want to chat with you. I don't know you. If I want to chat with someone, I've got plenty of people to text. Heck, I've even got plenty of other non-friends to deal with that also offer a chat feature (Amazon owes me a rug, AT&T overcharged me, USPS lost my package, etc.) I would rather chat with any of them than feel forced to respond to a chat from someone I don't know when they have clearly creeped on my profile and I have not had a chance to do the same. Just stop it.

Additionally, Christian Mingle shows everything. If I view someone's profile, they get a notification.It's like LinkedIn but worse! If I'm on the fence about responding to someone and need to re-read their profile, I certainly don't need Christian Mingle to tell them I keep re-reading it! And my friends want to see your picture? So sorry gals, we're not going back to his site to save my life! He'll know we're looking!

Also, you can "favorite" people....and then it tells you when someone has favorited you. And guys, I kid you not, people will favorite you without messaging you, chatting with you, or even "smiling" at you. IT'S SUCH A CREEPY FEELING.

And speaking of "smiling," that's another stress all it's own. I suppose the idea is to let someone know that you would, in theory, smile at them if you saw them out and about. However, Christian Mingle forces you to add some kind of text to the smile. Therefore, these poor guys and gals are forced to select from a myriad of "smile" phrases that are awkward, abrupt, cheesy, or just weird. Here are some options I literally copied and pasted from my inbox (which was death defying because I had to go "offline" REALLY fast to avoid that stupid chatting feature):

1. "Hi! I would love to meet you. What are my chances?"
2. "I like your smile."
3. ""Strengthen me with raisins, refresh me with apples; for I am faint with love." - Song of Solomon 2:5"
4. "How YOU doin?"
5. "Are you lost? Because heaven's a long way from here."
6. ""And the Lord God said, 'It is not good for the man to be by himself. I will make one like himself as a help to him'" - Genesis 2:18. Maybe we were made for each other."
7. "I'm not very good at flirting, but can I practice with you?"

Guys, this could go for days and all of them stress. me. out. Each of them makes me feel a pressure to respond or run...some both...but I just hate feeling inundated by them. And then because I feel inundated, I don't really take the time to look at profiles to decide whether I should message back because then they'll know I looked and what if I don't want to message them back? Then they know I looked and didn't respond AND THEN SOMETIMES THEY EVEN SEND MULTIPLE SMILES. Like, if I didn't get to them in a 24 hour time span, they just keep 'em coming. Sending me seven a day doesn't increase our compatibility, friend...

Let me be clear here. I'm a) not drowning in boys who are interested in me and b) I'm not unflattered by the boys who are. That said, if this were real life, and we both weren't behind screens, I promise you that I would call the police on some of these people. Being flirty is nice. Not taking "no" for an answer makes you a bully and I can't deal with it.

It's just a lot....it's a lot for a girl who's been single a long time and it's a lot for someone who doesn't know if she wants this...As someone who really had her heart set on a fairy tale, this feels more like a frantic scramble. Remember in high school when a boy would tell his friend to tell your friend that he thought you were cute and that he wanted to take you to lunch? Yes. Let's do that again.

As I was talking this through with Lovie, she seemed to identify part of the problem. I'm not in control. When she originally suggested that struggle, I pushed back. I'm not a control freak! (Okay, maybe a little...but I'm flexible! To a degree...) But as Lovie kept talking it through, I realized how right she was. I think Christian Mingle stresses me out because I can't seem to get my head above water. Other people look at my profile, they favorite me, they fill my inbox with messages and smiles and I have absolutely no control over it. I can't make someone remove my face from their "favorites" list. I can't stop someone from viewing my profile several times a day even after I haven't responded to messages. I can't keep people from sending messages directly to my phone any time I open the app. Really, all of this works together to make me feel creeped out and EXTREMELY vulnerable. I abhor both of these sentiments.

And then Lovie suggested Bumble.

Bumble was apparently created by ex-Tinder employees to address some of their lessons learned and I must admit, I'm a fan. It works very similarly to Hinge/Tinder in that you see a few pictures with a brief little info session and then you swipe right to say "I'm interested" or left to say "Not so much." And you know what? When you swipe left, they can't message you, smile at you, favorite you or chat with you...and it's a glorious feeling.

If you like them and they like you, then you're free to chat. HOWEVER, unlike it's Hinge and Tinder counterparts, only females can initiate the conversation. The guys can see that they've matched but literally can't do anything about it until the girl decides to message.

This. Is. Brilliant. Heather talked in a previous blog about the weirdness that surrounds the question of who should talk first. Traditionalists would say that the man should make the first move with feminists arguing that they are capable of doing so and then weirdness ensues. However, there is no question with Bumble. Girls talk first. End of story. This way guys can't get upset if they feel the girl is being a little too assertive and girls can't get upset if he never messages. The rules are clearly established. I enjoy clearly established rules.

Now, I was originally a little more skeptical for two reasons:
1. These people have not been vetted through friends. There really is something comforting about Hinge in that everyone you could be matched with actually knows a really life person that you know. That's comforting and makes psychopaths seems a little less likely.
2. I lost my initial filtering choice - religion. Whereas Hinge and Christian Mingle give you the option to dive into that detail, Bumble doesn't ask about it and doesn't make it easy to find without you asking.

So while contemplating these issues, I got the most hysterical and ironic piece of humble pie I've ever received. I matched on Bumble with a boy I had already matched with on Hinge. He met all of my initial checkpoints on Hinge but had never messaged me....and now here he was on Bumble...where I had the power and approval to message him! Wahoo!

And then this happened:

And I became LIVID.

I can actually think of several of my friends who are laughing at this right now. They're laughing because FOR YEARS I have said that if a boy doesn't use proper grammar, then we aren't going to work out. I have literally de-friended people on Facebook for consistently using incorrect grammar.

Now, before some of you get defensive, I understand that this is a "me" problem. I have always enjoyed writing, I chose a career path with writing, and I also have just enough OCD to care about these types of things. However, it's a "me" problem that also pays my bills so I'll only apologize to a certain degree. That said, I absolutely understand that typos happen. They happen to everyone. However, not retaining ANYTHING from 1st through 6th grade did not happen to everyone. That's a "you" problem.

So imagine my horror and outrage when I was on the receiving end of a message from an unkind, ill-tempered, grammar elitist! I shake my twice degreed, published fist at thee, you ruling communist!

Lesson. Learned.

So the really, really, really great thing about Bumble is that you can unmatch with people so they can no longer communicate with you....or you no longer have to stare at your glaring failure of a message.

Wah. Wah.

More details later, but I'm becoming a bumbling pro. ;)

----------------------------------------------------

A note from Heather:

So, I went to Denver a few weeks ago. I'm officially Denver's number one fan.

On my way to Denver, the most wonderfully bizarre thing happened.

I was seated next to two individuals on the plane who seemed to be somewhere around my age. After making a comment to the girl next to me about her cute tote bag (y'all, it had PORCUPINES on it. I needed it...), the conversation snowballed into a 2 1/2 hour chat amongst the three of us. To make a long story short, a sweet girl (Stephanie), a sassy guy (Travis), and I spent the whole plane ride talking about our lives...our ups and downs...our relationship failures...and ultimately, we all exchanged phone numbers at the end. We chatted throughout the weekend while we were all vacationing in Denver.

And then, we all met up for dinner last week while back in St. Louis. 

Here's where this anecdote becomes applicable:
Travis wanted to look at my Tinder profile; he wanted to gauge how I had presented myself. Travis, without any inhibition, made it clear that I was doing a lousy job of presenting myself accurately. (Travis also shared that I basically made a horrible first impression on him and he thought I was a bit cold....man, if I had a dollar for every time I heard that....) Some of you have noticed that I've lost a few lbs in the past several months, and you've also noticed that I chopped off my hair. Some of my photos (in Travis's words) "weren't doing (me) justice". Travis showed me his Tinder profile, and explained his reasoning for each photo he used. ("This one shows that I can be silly..." "I'm in the center of this and look like an alpha male...")

So, that night I switched my main picture to a more recent picture.

Guys, it's like I just went from being an ogre to being Halle Berry. 

The messages increased...the matches increased...the inappropriate comments increased...

This is largely infuriating, and I can't help but feel like all of the extra attention is solely due to shallow reasons...

But, I get it. 

Welcome to the world of online dating, where a flattering photo makes the difference between finding your soul mate or not.

I can't say I'm swimming through any strong potentials here, but, there have been some promising and interesting conversations.

A prime example of the antithesis of a promising conversation occurred last night. This is when a seemingly sweet boy named Jason, who had described himself as a southern gentleman, and I were chatting. Within a few minutes, he got reallllllllllllll creepy and started talking about "coercing" me into "wearing cowboy boots for him".

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand we're done here, Jason.

Anyway, Travis and Stephanie have so graciously offered to help me create a Christian Mingle profile. This hasn't happened yet, but, we all know I'll be blogging about it when it does..


Hugs and frogs,
Holly and Heather

Well, we auditioned for The Bachelor...

A note from Holly:

Seriously. We auditioned for The Bachelor. And it was...interesting?

Before we get going here, I'd like to give the disclaimer that Heather was completely opposed to doing this originally. I practically begged her to choose this past weekend to come visit (she was looking at several dates) so that we could audition in Hanover. I'm pretty sure I threatened to expose secrets on the blog if she didn't oblige.

She came.

Obviously, I've got some pretty impressive dirt. ;)

Heather got here late Wednesday and after a magical day in Georgetown (shoutout to Kafe Leopold's), we came back to my house to start the process of getting acceptable looking. I feel like I should point out how difficult things started getting at this point...things got real...like, how should I fix my hair? red lips? no red lips? how big are these brows going today? Good heavens! They aren't going to make me take off my Spanx are they?!

In the midst of my nail polishing, exfoliating, shaving and praying, I looked at Heather who seemed calm as a dadgum Buddhist monk. She was checking her phone...with wet hair...and running shorts on...

Me: Kid, are you going to put on make-up?
Heather: I'll do it in the car.
Me: *Internally seething about her ability to do this* What about your dress? Are you going to iron it?!
Heather: I feel like you would care about it being ironed but I really don't.

And back into the bathroom I went...

After all necessary prep work had been completed, we trudged out the door...into a monsoon...where Heather was kind enough to give me the good umbrella. (She totes appreciated the effort that goes into dealing with my hair.)

We took off for Hanover (which is a smidge south of Baltimore) and while the GPS said it would take an hour, I'm proud to report that it only took 45 minutes. Just call me Holly Gordon.

On the drive, Heather and I decided to do a little practicing. Neither one of us had ANY idea of what to really expect but, had done enough research to know that there were going to be questions. Here's a sample of the ones Heather and I made up for practice:

Heather: What's something unique about you?
Holly: I can say "Kiss me because I'm single" in nine language.
Heather: Girl! You better be able to back that up! Let's hear 'em!

Holly: Do you have any special talents?
Heather: Uhhhhhh....hhhhhhmmmm...nope. Nothing comes to mind. Thanks, Hol.

Holly: Why do you want to be on the Bachelor?
Heather. I don't.

It was a swell ride. ;)

The auditions were from 5-9 and we arrived at 7:45 thinking we had plenty of time to go in, "audition" (whatever that meant) and then go get some dinner. Wrong. So. Very. Wrong. I'll spoil the ending here: we didn't leave that place until midnight.

This was mainly due to the fact that there were SO many people. While predominately female, there was also a nice representation of the male gender. We spent a substantial amount of time trying to figure out if the men were there to try and date the next Bachelor or to be the next Bachelor. It was unclear for a few candidates. Regardless, there were beautiful men all around!

I'm pretty sure Heather and I signed something that said we wouldn't give away details. I'm not 100% of this because when we saw the line, Heather and I were committed to hustling! We started out by filling out the paperwork that I didn't read which did include a questionnaire about my love life, hobbies, etc.

Next, we had to get in a different line to take pictures.

Heather getting her picture taken!

This is really where I started to feel the full weight of this commitment. The line was long and therefore, BARELY moving. As such, we all just stood around and stared at each other until it was our turn to be forever immortalized in a Bachelor hard drive for the rest of posterity. The picture taking lady was so sweet and after my round of pictures I asked her if I could choose an Instagram filter for my pictures. She graciously laughed at my "joke" and told me no. All chances shot at this point.

After pictures, we got in a line on the stage floor. They had a local news anchor there to "entertain" us but frankly, she was a little harsh and kept trying to force people to do dance parties. I avoided eye contact with her at all costs.

This is where Heather and I spent the vast majority of our four hours at the audition. We finally realized that they were taking approximately five people at a time from the line every 10-15 minutes. It was painful people. Painful.

To deal with this pain, they hired a DJ who occasionally played some awesome jams. Backstreet Boys made an appearance and so did "This is how we do it!" However, I'm saddened to report that "Cotton-eyed Joe" did not make the list. I mean seriously, it's not a party without Cotton-eyed Joe.

Heather kept asking me to tell her a story. I basically caught her up on every single detail of my life and during the course of that time, we moved six inches. This is when we became VVVVEEEEEWWWWWYYYY interested in the people around us. Heather noted that it's easy for girls to think they would be the kind of girl who gets along with everybody in the house but in these moments, with all these girls eyeing you up and down, you realize how quickly you might want to voice your opinions.

In addition to stares and sizing each other up, Heather and I were fortunate enough to have the life of the party a mere 5 people in front of us. Seriously. This girl was there for a good - scratch that - GREAT time. She was drinking and dancing and "wooing" and drinking and dancing and "wooing" and drinking and dancing and taking pictures with the security men and drinking and dancing and "wooing." I developed an affinity for her and told Heather that she was growing on me.

Heather told me to avoid eye contact with her as she might beat me up. (Note from Heather: No, I told Holly to stop STARING at this girl because it was weird. And, I felt like the girl had plennnnnnty of attention as it was.)

Valid point.

We also spent a solid amount of time discussing the guy and girl directly in front of us. They were fun to discuss because their relationship appeared to be an interesting one. They were standing very close to each other and were a little flirtatious. This meant they were either there to break-up over the Bachelor, try to date him together, or they were really awkward friends. It turned out to be latter.

We discovered this when they kindly turned around and offered us $5 to hold their place in line so they could go gamble. Heather and I politely declined the $5 but told them we would hold their spots with no problem. They then offered to give us half of any winnings they might incur. We still declined. They then offered to bring us food. Nnnnnnoooooowwwwww we're talking.

We wound up holding their place for around an hour and a half and in return, we got these precious things:

French fries have never tasted so good.
(Note from Heather: Add this to the list of times I was so excited about food that I could have cried...)

When they returned with wonderful sustenance, it was then that Heather and I asked the girl, Hailey, about her relationship with the young man. After much discussion, I decided to take matters into my own hands and discuss the situation with the boy who was too blind to see Hailey's wonderfulness. Unfortunately, I don't think I was able to make much progress because we FINALLY got to leave the line. (Note from Heather: Holly is downplaying this. She approached the guy when he was by himself and was aggressively interrogating him, while I tried to fiend off two potential bachelors who were hell bent on convincing me that the current bachelorette is a "slut". Ew. Go away. I don't want to be your friend, dumb boys.)

We left the line and were walked to another room where, wait for it, we got put in another line. At this point, it was 11:30 p.m. and I was seriously thinking about crying/walking out. However, this line was moving faster as there were about four closed-off curtain areas where each individual was taken back and interviewed by a Bachelor producer/assistant.

I won't type out too many details because a) I'm already about to bore you to death and b) I seriously don't know what I signed but I think it went well? I mean, it didn't go poorly?

Basically, I made a new friend, Kristen, who used to work at Disney! We talked about Disney and entertainment and CP programs and had a grand time! And then she turned on the camera, asked me some questions not related to Disney, and I walked out. Actually, she told me when she was going to turn on the camera and that I should be smiling when she did (this was much nicer than Heather's interviewer, who did not give such a courtesy, which resulted in the fear that the first 5 seconds of Heather's video shows her holding a sign with her name and number and a face that screams "mugshot.")

Heather was waiting outside, we said good bye to Hailey and her boy (GET IT TOGETHER, GUYS), got in the car, drove back to D.C. and crashed.


A note from Heather:

Holly summed up the night's activities pretty well, so I won't re-hash all of that. I will add a few of my notes about the night, though.

1) I understand that any reality TV show has negative and taboo connotations with it, especially the Bachelor franchise. I had a hard time agreeing to going to the casting call, and I'm having a hard time announcing it to all of y'all. The fact that my sister and I went to an open casting call isn't something we're really bragging about here. We understand the taboo; we understand we're being labeled as "those girls". I'm not striking it rich with desirable suitors via other avenues, so, I've really got nothing to lose. I mean, except for my pride and credibility, but, who needs that? In the grand scheme of things, we had a funny night of sisterly bonding and now have an interesting story that we can laugh about for years. (A note from Holly: And if I can get a husband out of it then I'm all for it!)

Holly: Excitement and Anticipation
Heather: Trepidation

Holly's attempt to prevent her makeup from settling
 into her smile lines. How's that for blog transparency? 

2) Standing in the lines for hours was rough. Not only because of the amount of time spent standing there, but because I have never felt like I was being sized up by everyone in the room. On the other hand, I was doing the same thing to everyone else. I was so disgusted with my judgmental internal dialogue, that I tried to stare at the floor or the walls rather than the other people. I'm sure if producers were observing the people in line, I looked like a reeeaaal cool girl based on this decision. Not. I usually operate on a "don't do anything to attract attention to yourself" mantra, but, this was especially true that night. I wondered to myself why I live in a world where invisibility cloaks aren't real...And then I wondered if anyone in the world has a job to create an invisibility cloak. If not, I think someone should create that job. I'll get the startup fundraising campaign started now.  I digress. I think this whole "sizing people up" business hit Holly hard too, considering the photo to the right here. 

3) This is along the lines of my previous point, but, I noticed some girls becoming catty about the other girls. I know mean girls are everywhere and we all can have nasty tendencies, but, this was surprisingly blatant. This really hit when we were in the final line/room with the curtained-off interview rooms. A girl seated next to me made a few catty comments about the process, which I assumed was anxiety/jealousy induced. We'll call her Stilettos (because she was wearing hot pink suede ones..) At one point, we could actually hear the answers of another girl who was in the middle of her filmed interview. The question asked of her was "What would your perfect date be?" I don't remember her exact answer, but it was something along the lines of going to an elephant rescue in Asia. Stilettos immediately laughed loudly and began degrading the authenticity of the interviewee's answer. Finally, when the interviewee walked back out to our waiting area, Stilettos said "Ohh, sorry. You didn't make it? Well, too bad. You can go save all the elephants on your own." Stilettos didn't necessarily say it TO the interviewee, but she definitely said it in ear-shot of the interviewee. I blinked at her, mainly in total bewilderment. In hindsight, I feel horrible that I didn't say something to Stilettos on behalf of the interviewee (and everyone else).... 

4) The filmed interview was surprisingly short and shallow. Actually, I guess I shouldn't be surprised by that, but I was. I expected there to be more questions, so I gave somewhat brief answers to everything. Anyway, the most shocking part happened right at the end. We'll call my interviewer "Unimpressed", because...well..I think she was unimpressed. After my final comments to Unimpressed about why I think I'm the bee's knees, Unimpressed told me that I would need to stand up in the corner of the curtained room so that she could film full body shots of me. Immediately, I asked her if she was joking. She wasn't. I hesitantly stood up, walked to the corner of the room, and I saw the camera following me. (This is the same moment where I thought to myself "There's no way to suck in your back fat, huh? Welp.) I stood in the corner of the room and watched the camera scan my body up and down. I asked "Is anyone okay with this? Like..does anyone stand up here with confidence and like this part?..." Unimpressed, who clearly wasn't sympathetic to my comment, said "Well, maybe they don't like it but they all do it." Egads. My inner feminist was revolting. I asked, "So..I just stand here? Am I supposed to move? Is this really happening? Do I put my hands on my hips? Should I turn? I'm confident but this is weird." 

Unimpressed said "You're fine" as she continued angling the camera to scan me from head to toe. I remember thinking "Should I have worn something skin tight? Is that what you're looking for here? I'm not okay with this. Also, I should have self tanned.", but I can't remember if I said any of that out loud. It was a weird struggle between "Um.. this is disgusting and dumb and y'all suck." and "Omg.. do they think I'm pretty?". I dance between that struggle on a daily basis, but, we'll save that for another blog titled "Feminists can like makeup, too."

5) Given the vapid nature of my interview and my not-so-brief freak out about the full body camera shots, I think I have a better shot of marrying Ryan Gosling himself than getting a call back. Even if I did get a call back, I don't think I could maintain any sense of professional credibility and be on the show. "Oh yeah, Ms. Stephens..I would love to chat with you about the 16 y/o kiddo I'm trying to find an adoptive home for. And yes, Ms. Stephens, you have seen me make out with a guy on national television...Yep..that's me.." Even though I know all of this, I still have the feeling like the producers are supposed to want me, which I think many of us experience with dating. Even if you know you're not interesting in a person or in an outcome, you still want to be wanted. You still want them to think you're worth it. I know it's an immature and inconsiderate mindset; I'll beat you to the punch and admit that. Insert Cheap Trick's "I want you to want me" lyrics here...

6) They gave out roses to all of the girls ahead of us, but ran out of flowers before they got to us. Kewl. I felt gipped and needed a darn souvenir from the experience, so I tried to get Holly to steal a cup from the bar. She refused. I tried to steal a pen from the casino, but, I lost it in one of the 2198437 lines. Double kewl.

7) We met a guy who has half a brain. Well, that's what he and his friend told us at least. I'm no neurologist, but, I couldn't imagine that being true. He told us Ben Carson was the doctor who operated on him. Ben Carson's Wikipedia page indicates he specializes in "the hemispherectomy, a drastic surgical procedure in which part or all of one hemisphere of the brain is removed to control severe pediatric epilepsy." So, maybe this dude really only had half his brain. Woah. Fascinating. I digress.

Anyway, this guy waited with the rest of us for hours and then when we were all finally walking over to the final waiting area for the filmed interviews, he and his friend disappeared. Holly and I can't figure out if he left due to nerves, or if he really had no intentions of ever trying out. A third option (that I hadn't previously considered) is that maybe he got distracted by the slot machines and then got abducted by mafia dudes. Hmm.

Hugs and frogs,
Holly and Heather