Monday, June 3, 2013

The Crazy Pants Girl and Online Dating

Has anyone noticed I start off almost every blog post by either apologizing for not writing enough and/or letting everyone know that I fell off the happy wagon? I am starting to think I've never actually been on the happy wagon. At least not long enough to blog about it. The real question is how deep does the pit of depression actually go? Or is it just some kind of complex labyrinth with new tunnels to discover every week? Perhaps if I keep blogging about it enough we will one day find out.
It drives around every now and then just so I can remember what it looks like

So where did we leave off last time? Oh right, being severely unhappy in my life. What else is new?


My Mom came to visit me recently. It was very nice to have someone to hang out with and make me feel like I am actually a human being instead of just a shadow that lurks around in art school. We did some talking--or rather, she did some talking, since I seem to have the inability to actually express meaningful feelings out loud. I have this lovely syndrome where I constantly wish that I had someone to talk to about things with, and then when people actually ask me about them all I can do is just shrug and try my best not to burst into emotional sobbing and embarrass myself. Anyway, my Mom likes to give me a lot of advice, because she is my mom and has a bunch of life experience and somehow manages to almost always be right. Her advice often changes depending on what is going on in her own life, however, so it usually keeps things interesting. The first time she broke up with her last boyfriend for example, she kept telling me all a woman needs in life is good friends, a good dog, and a good [sex] toy. Now that she recently has started dating a man that treats her very gentlemanly, she has been advising me in all sorts of new ways, such as that she thinks everyone should be madly in love at least once in their life and maybe I should try online dating.

I thought both of these things sounded ridiculous. First of all, the inner sexless and cynical beast that I have worked so hard to cultivate in the past few years screams at me that being "in love" is by far the most foolish and painful thing you could ever do and not worth my time. It would just get in the way of the rest of my life. The good news is that since I am so young, cynical, and anti-social, I do not have to worry about that sort of thing happening to me any time soon. Second, as far as online dating goes... do I look 40 years old and divorced?!? It sounded preposterous. Sure, I'd like to meet new people to go out with I guess, I could always use a free meal, but let's be honest here. The only people at my age using online dating sites to meet others are probably just on there because they have serious issues. I am talking major deal-breakers here. Like bad breath, being unemployed, serial killing... that kind of stuff. Not only do I not want to have to deal with those sorts of people, but I also didn't want to be considered one of them.

After my Mom gave me these tidbits of advice (among many, many others), and left to go back to the East Coast, I was left contemplative. And bored. Very, very bored. Not having a job or 18 units of course work will do that to you. Or any friends, for that matter. I lumbered around my new house for a couple of days, biding my time by doing absolutely nothing productive. One morning I sat on my porch and stabbed a grapefruit rind with a fork for an hour. I inevitably started to get curious about who really was doing online dating at my age and eventually, much to my own chagrin, started a profile on an online dating site that I had heard of. But only on one of the free ones, because there was no way I was gonna pay for that shit.

The productive times of an unemployed adult. I'm definitely ready for the dating world.
I uploaded a couple of decent looking photos of me, trying to have a nice balance between me looking like, y'know, a girl, and me doing crazy aerial and pole stuff, since those are the only kinds of pictures I take of myself anymore. I did my best to write the most sarcastic profile information possible, including my username, which I won't divulge here, but let's just say it is a real ice breaker and involves mention of aquatic animal feces. I answered some of the questions they use to match people which don't really work, because no one ever has an accurate self perception, and then I sat back and let 'er rip, Beyblades style.

Just a few tidbits from my profile. 

The first match that appeared on my profile had the username "DrugSexMachine." This is when I knew I was in for a good time on the site. Among others that came up were "SensualCoyote," "p1easingu," and "hubbahubba420." (I am sad to say none of these men contacted me.) After clicking through various profiles where almost every guy described themselves as "easy-going, laid back, down to earth, love to have fun, blah blah blah, the same vague, meaningless descriptors over and over again," I realized that the site had this fantastic function where it showed men every time I visited their profile. It is seriously great because it lets everyone know how often they are being rejected. As much as I just love making people feel like they aren't wanted, I decided to be a little bit more selective with what I was clicking on. I also didn't need to attract any more attention, what with my own profile having gained over 100 visitors in the first few hours.

I received over 50 messages from various men in the area within the first 24 hours. Not gonna lie, with all the additional profile views included, it was a little flattering. Just a little. I like attention. I can't deny that. But mostly it was just overwhelming. I am not really used to having men throw themselves at me. It wasn't up until this past year or so that I was pretty much invisible to the male species and even still it usually takes guys awhile after meeting me to realize that I have, like, y'know, a vagina or whatever. There was a lot to filter through. Luckily, I had nothing better to do. (See: grapefruit on the porch morning)

Since I have spent so much of my life on the internet, maybe 80% of it happily talking to strangers, it was really hard for me not to respond to every single message. That's just what I do, man. But the whole of idea that most of these men really actually wanted to meet me,  probably have sex with me, and/or possibly brutally murder me made it a little bit easier to have a process of elimination. After awhile it was pretty easy to axe out any username with a number in it (uncreative much?), profiles of guys where they say they like writing poetry (seriously, there are way too many guys out there that say this. It disturbs me), or any guy who had nothing interesting to say in his message to me. I got A LOT of "Hello. You are beautiful/cute/gorgeous and seem really interesting to talk to. I like how honest you seem in your profile. I'd like to get to know you. What adventures have you been on lately? Here is a question related to something you said you liked in your profile (most frequently Arrested Development). Here is a witty joke about how you say you are a red head but you dye your hair. How is you week/weekend going? Other lame question that really doesn't tell me anything about who you are beyond a surface level?" I also got some other nuggets of joy messages which I will now share below, because they were so amazing and appealing.  I definitely wanted to reply to all of these guys, but alas, I had to be pretty choosy.

Yep. This right there. 
Tip for you ladies: If he can't use Google, while already on the internet no less, he isn't worth the time
I am not sure exactly if he was referring to writing and animation or something else with the question, but I like to think it was more of litmus test to see what my confidence/aggression level was like. Good thing I am one of the most passive people ever and completely ignored him. I am sure that said a lot about me. 

I REALLY wanted to respond to this guy just to see what he was referring to. But I was also afraid of what the answer would be. 

No I don't fucking go to AI, I clearly have too much self respect for that. 
I bet you would!  You'd probably love to be anybody's booty call, in fact. That makes me feel extra special. 
I just like picturing a man saying this to me and then picturing myself slapping him. 

Does anyone else know what this means?

At least he got the "you're" part right. 

If this was meant to be ironic, it failed. 

Oh my god he figured it out. Someone get him a gold star. 
As much as I commend this guy for trying to stand out, I think he got started off on the wrong foot. 
This was far and away the best message I have received. I steered far clear of that one, as tempting as the offer was. 

Despite having to turn down all these incredible men, I did start a couple of conversations with a few others that showed potential. So far, the most interesting ones have been where there are no questions at all and mostly just random conversations about pancakes, otter pops, and senior citizens dancing. Unfortunately, those haven't gone anywhere. There have been a few other mildly interesting conversations, although if dudes just keep bringing up random questions I think I am going to go insane. Can we just talk like normal people? Are you really asking me what kind of tea I like? Why the fuck do you care? I have yet to go on a date yet, though. I am still a little afraid. Mostly of the awkwardness. I feel like it would be really awkward.

Meanwhile, as I mentioned in my last entry, I have been talking to a few guys back at home here and there. There has been one in particular where the amount of flirting has been almost too much to handle. Seriously, if I, of all people, am actually conscious that what I am doing is flirting, you know it's gotta be pretty hardcore. I liked this guy quite a bit awhile ago, so much to the point that one time after a couple of drinks I bit him on the neck because I thought he smelled so good. That is all I really remember about that. It makes me wonder if I am some kind of vampire. Maybe I am going around biting people and have amnesia about it! Oh god! I would feel really bad about that if it were the case. It is a little concerning. ANYWAY. When last summer ended and we parted ways, I got really upset about it and stared at my ceiling for a few days while I listened to the same Bon Iver song over and over again. I thought I would never see him again, so I got all girly and upset. Sue me. So when we started talking once more I got all these strange, fuzzy warm feelings in my stomach that I hadn't been forgotten (as I assumed I would be) and would actually smile when I saw new texts on my phone, as opposed to frowning and putting on my battle-gear when I looked at the messages I was getting online. The fuzzy-warm-smiling thing was was so out of place for me, it was almost as concerning as the vampire theory. Almost. 

"Oh Bon Iver, only you can understand my tortured teenager vampire soul" (who is actually 20 years old)

Shortly after starting an online dating profile, I came back to visit home for a few days. This launched me into a whole other world of questioning everything about my life, thinking about my options, what the hell am I going to do with myself, the easy choice versus the right choice and if they could ever be the same thing, and so on. Most of that is for another day, I think. In regards to what I am writing about now, I saw the guy. I saw him almost every day I was in town, which was really nice. We hung out and talked like normal people, which was also nice. We had what I like to refer to as "the severe sexual tension sunglasses moment," where one day he playfully stole my sunglasses and after girl-fighting for them, I put them back on and my hair got caught in the frame. He reached out and brushed it out of my face in a seriously hardcore movie rom-com style way-- It was like in Zombieland when Jesse Einsenberg said all he wanted to do was push a girl's hair behind her ear except I was the girl and I didn't know that was all I wanted until right that very moment. I thought I was going to explode if he didn't kiss me right then. He didn't kiss me right then. It was broad daylight in the middle of the street when we were both technically at work, after all. But I also fortunately did not explode. So at least there was that. I got what I wanted a few days later though, plus a lot more. That was really, really nice. 

Yes, exactly a year after the last time I debunked my sexless title, I did it again. Except this time it was actually good and with the most attractive man I have ever been with. So yea, worth it. I even farted in front of him beforehand, and it still happened by some miracle! Go me! Probably because I was pole dancing while I farted so the two cancelled each other out. At least I didn't queef. I'm not sure pole dancing weighs out queefing, although it happens a surprising amount while doing floor work. I always try to laugh it off in front of people and tell them I am just "airing out the batcave," but no one ever even cracks a smile. I think queefing just makes people mega-uncomfortable.... Just sayin'. THE POINT IS! The universe actually worked in my favor for a small moment. My body even did other embarrassing things that I won't write about on here because they are just that embarrassing. You know that means they were really bad. And yet, I still got what I wanted. I don't know why some greater force finally decided to throw me a bone, but it was much appreciated. 

The problem was that I kind of actually like this guy. You must understand a few things. I don't like a lot of guys. And even when I do, I don't get positive reinforcement from them. Seriously. Every time I meet some new guy that I am pretty into I say to myself or some random friend. "I really like this one. No really, I want him, like actually want him. For me. I am really gonna go for it this time. I just have to." And then I usually get rejected in a really awkward way. Usually by way of me asking him to hang out and repeatedly being turned down and then me looking like an idiot for awhile. Wee.

My experience with men, dating, and even hooking up has been pretty sub-par for the average woman my age, I think. Even though I try really hard not to be a slut, the majority of the guys I've been with in the past, I've barely known. (Although that doesn't count for much; I haven't been with that many guys.) The last boyfriend I had got on all sorts of nerves. I only really dated him because he was there (note: lesson learned). I only ever dated one guy that I genuinely liked, and that ended over 4 years ago. (God I feel old now.) Really, at this point, I am accustomed to men my age swinging one of two ways: They either want to have sex with me, wang, bang, and get the hell of out of there OR they want to get married to me right away so I can replace their mother and take care of them and all their emotional issues, cook them food, have their babies, pat them on the head, etc etc. Since this particular guy was not groveling at my feet and not declaring an undying love for me after knowing me for 5 minutes, experience has only taught me to assume the other option. Which I really hope isn't true, but at the same time I am hundreds of miles away. What can I do about it either way? Not much. 

Me. Right now. Every day.

Nevertheless, I am starting to feel like a crazy pants girl. It is one thing to get all sad about a guy you like who never wanted you back, but another thing to get all sad because you went into something knowing there was no commitment made and no real way for things to work out, but you did it anyway. It's not fair for me to expect ALL of the things I want to come true. But I am still sad and that still makes me feel crazy pants. I look at all the guys trying to chat me up on this stupid dating site, and now this stupid dating/hook-up app called Tinder that my friends showed me, and I just don't want any of them. I have no interest in seeing anyone else, EVEN if there is a free meal involved. I know right? That is kind of scary. Who the hell am I these days?!? Although I think I am mostly feeling crazy pants because I spent my last night in town with him and then my hair smelled like him for the rest of the day and I couldn't help but keep smelling it. It was just in there IN MY FACE all day, ok?? And note the really awesome man smell that turned me into a vampire previously from above. I don't know! I was tired! What can I say?!? Please don't hate on the crazy pants girl. The smell did eventually fade and I did eventually take a shower though, so I can't be that crazy pants, right? 

With all these smells and feelings and shit I don't know what to do. I thrive off my sexlessness and cynicism. And now it's all gone. Dashed! Ruined! Hopeless! I tried the things my mother said to do and look what it got me. A lot of uncomfortable messages that pale in comparison to real life thingy-majiggers that only make more trouble for me. UGH. I don't want to be a crazy pants girl. I don't want to feel things! Feeling things is hard! Especially with a guy that feels 20,000 leagues out of my own. Ok, maybe not quite that many. I have more confidence in myself than that. It just made a good pun. But still. You get my point. This is not my ideal situation, and I can't seem to do anything about it except for whine about it on the internet. Which is what I am doing. And you can't stop me. So deal with it. Or don't. I don't care. 

But at the same time, there is a tiny, secret part of me that is getting this sick little thrill out of it, like my heart has actually been craving passion or something. Dammit, heart. You're a twisted little fuck; Did you know that? Fuck you and how you like things like eye contact and holding hands and shit. Go home, you are drunk. On sappiness. It's like, sappier than maple syrup, yo. If you got pulled over by the cops you'd be sky high on your BSC or Blood Sap Content test. I am only trying to look out for you, ok? Just GTFO before you cause any more problems, got it? You know what they say. It's all fun and games until someone becomes emotionally damaged. 

No more driving for you, heart.


The end. 

Oh except for this:


Congratulations to me for actually drawing something UNRELATED to school for the first time in, oh, like a year. That is one of the fun things art school has done to me. It's made me hate art. I should be so glad for chasing my dream, right? 

I see a new whiny blog entry on the horizon. But first. Something fun. Stay tuned. 


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