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
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