Catharsis, Mr. Wrong, and Mr. Almost

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

ON ANOTHER NOTE:

I had a date. Well. Two dates.

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

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

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

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

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

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


A note from Holly:

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

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

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

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

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

Good heavens, I'm miserable at this.

Hugs and frogs,
Holly & Heather

Once upon a time in China

A note from Holly:

Today you get a story.

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

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

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

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

Whoopsies.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Dear Holly,

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

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

Respectfully,

CPT Sean

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

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

And I’m back to my fairytale expectations.

A note from Heather:

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

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

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

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

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

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


Hugs and frogs,
Holly & Heather