A friend recently told me that I didn’t “look happy.” And we’re not talking about resting bitch face here; we’re talking about the fact that I physically didn’t look happy. He lectured me on how the only way that I’ll ever attract a man is by looking happy: “Do things that make you happy and don’t worry so much. Be busy with life. Not consumed with the idea that you must find a mate. You’ll never find a guy if you’re pre-occupied with it. Just be happy and it’ll show. That’s what’s attractive.”
At first, I was annoyed that he was telling me what to do. I am happy, I countered. I do the things I want to do all the time…brunch with girlfriends, volunteering, traveling, spending time with family, yoga, I have a writing schedule, and the list goes on.
“So if you are happy, why don’t you look happy?” he queried.
Eight years ago, I had a birthmark removed. I still have a dark, bumpy scar where the incision was made. My knees and feet are pocked with marks from topples I’ve taken over the years. I have a prominent scar on my brow from when I was a preschooler with chickenpox. My body is physical proof of a life lived: the tumbles, the mishaps, and the decisions I’ve made.
My now-ex, Harry (yes, the “nice guy” and I broke up since he wasn’t as nice as I thought he was originally), told me as we were breaking up that he felt I held my past against him, that I came into the relationship with a grudge against every guy I’ve dated, but that I was taking all of my grudges out on him. He said that I didn’t start him with a blank slate, instead it was as if he came in holding mybaggage. Continue reading Can you See my Scars?→
When I’d met Harry*, I had grown accustomed to – even falling in love with – my life as a single person. I started a monthly brunch club with all of my girlfriends in Chicago, volunteered 1-3 nights a week, began editing a newsletter for a local yoga studio in exchange for free classes, had frequent dinner dates with my best friend’s family, and joined the happiest of hours with my single girlfriends. My independence and the ability to choose to do what I wanted when I wanted was exhilarating.
And then a perfect little present fell from the eHarmony sky: Harry. And, I mean that; Harry is perfect. He checks every box on my list: nice, considerate, funny, intelligent, good-looking, open, honest, likes to work out and go to yoga, good cook, volunteers, has been to more countries than me, wants to get married and have a family, and the list could go on. Yet, I find myself somewhat resistant to him. We get along like two peas in a pod. I’m scared, though, of being TWO peas in a pod when I’ve spent so long being ONE pea all alone.Continue reading Mourning the Loss of my Singlehood→
Harry* and I met less than a month ago. After our first date, I texted my girlfriends: “For reals, best first date ever.” After dim sum and bubble tea, we checked out the new library in Chinatown: #booknerdsunite.
For our second date, he bought tickets – in advance, mind you – for Second City.
I found out that my friend Joe had passed away right before meeting up with Harry for our third date. I was a wreck, but Harry was already at the restaurant and I didn’t want to be rude. At the end of the date, he hugged me and told me that it was okay to be sad and that if I needed to cry right then and there, I could.
Since I’ve taken a break from free online dating sites, my brain constantly works on a mental super-profile (like a super computer, not just great, but can do it ALL!). In these past few months, I’ve read multiple articles on dating, listened to podcasts, and had bitch sessions with both single and married gal pals that gave me ideas on the “perfect” profile. And then, Meghan Trainor’s tune Dear Future Husband hit the airwaves and I knew that my super-profile would be great and honest and all about the quirkiness that is me. One problem: I’m not on online dating sites at the moment, so instead, I’m sharing this on my blog!
As a new feature, I’m reliving the stories of my top 5 worst/funniest/best-date-story stories. Here’s the absolute worst date I have ever been on and is simultaneously the best story to tell…drumroll please…#1: Jessie’s Girl!!
Setting: Jalapeno’s Restaurant, Peru, IL, 2008
As many of you can imagine and some of you can attest to, the dating scene in Ottawa is not exactly jumpin’ jumpin’. Unbeknownst to many of you previous to my #5 worst date, I dabbled in the online dating world while living in O-Town, a few weeks on OKCupid, a few on Match. Not much came of the then-modern technology except for a few awkward dates that I immediately wanted to leave right after arriving and a few really great first date stories; in fact, my first ever worst first date story brewed from this initial experiment in online dating. I’d like to divulge said story not only to incite laughter, but to relive the glory days of grand ol’ Ottawa.
New City Life Adventure 