Critical Thinking

Good morning, Readers. Well, it's morning as I'm writing this. It will be afternoon once you're reading it. But right now there's coffee and it's a pretty sunny day out and I don't have to be at work until the afternoon. Mornings (the relaxed kind when you get to wake up naturally, that is) are honestly becoming my favorite time of day the older I get. Everything is peaceful outside because most people are at work, and the weather has finally turned comfortable enough that I can sit outside and sip my coffee and enjoy the view.

So with that zen state of mind, I have another batch of questions to respond to:

OK Rachel, good job with my first round of questions. Since you asked, here is a second round with maybe even tougher questions.

You mentioned dating someone of the correct age. Is that physical age? Appearance age? or emotional maturity level? What difference does age make if you make someone very happy and they make you very happy? Scenario question: You are in a committed relationship with a very loving and caring man of very average looks. In to the room walks very tall, dark, and makes you weak in the knees handsome. And he's giving you some attention. What do you do? Will you go out with a physically attractive man you have compatibility/committment issues with in the hopes you can help him change?(I can tell you I have personally seen this one blow up a number of times.) This last question may be pushing it a bit, but what if have met/are dating someone who is right for you in nearly every way EXCEPT no matter how hard you or he try he's not a very good...well..."lover"? CD

Damn CD. Back at it again with the white vans. …I'm sorry that was a somewhat obscure reference. Ignore me. Anyway. Here we go.

Meek vs. Dauntless: The Epic Rap Battle

Recently someone commented the following:

before you answer anymore questions a quick update PLEEZE. i can't believe no one nice has asked you out on a date in over a month!

Well, my dear, believe it. I hate to say this, because it is exactly as pathetic and lonely as it sounds, but lately if I'm not working, I'm sitting home alone watching Supergirl in my pajamas. But, it so happens that I actually intended to update you all on a recent event regardless.

On a rare night out and an even rarer opportunity to put on the ritz, I attended a wedding a couple of weeks ago. My very dear childhood friend Jenna recently married her honest-to-goodness True Love, Matt. And I want to take a moment to say that it's couples exactly like Jenna & Matt who give me hope that maybe one day I'll be as blessed as they were to find each other. Their wedding was elegant, classic, and beautiful, and yeah, I happy-cried about four times. If you're ever looking for me at a wedding, I'm the gal weeping while handing out tissues to all the other weeping women around me. (Where's my big brother when I need him? He carries a handkerchief for exactly such occasions.)

And what better way to meet single men than at a wedding reception, right? Meh. Not in my experience. Actually, at nearly all of the weddings I've attended, I've found myself to be one of the only dateless guests there. That said, there were a few familiar faces at this reception whom I had met at other parties Matt & Jenna hosted, and for once, I was not the only person without a Plus One.

Itemization

A question from a good friend:

What if I don't know what I want in a romantic partner? I've been in a single serious relationship and a few flings, but none of them left me with any real preferences beyond "not an idiot, PLEASE". I mean, I'm a pretty laid back individual, but surely there's some way to figure out what I'm looking for without destroying lives and/or becoming a serial dater (like K, I'm not hugely into the dating game, and going out on multiple dates with different people in a short time period sounds like torture). WHAT DO I WANT? And how do I find it?

Just because I know who posted this comment, I happen to know that this piece of advice will be met with unbridled enthusiasm rather than an eyeroll: Have you considered making a list?

An Important Distinction

ETA: There have been issues with Blogger's comment section. I have no idea why. If I have not answered your comment by now it's almost definitely because it never published. I'm sorry for this discouraging hassle but please, especially if you are commenting from a mobile device, refresh the page after you post a comment to doublecheck that it actually published. (Copy the text of your comment before you do so, just in case.)

Afternoon, kiddos! I'm back again with the last question in my queue (hint hint if you have anything you're burning to know). I hope that this will be the last time for a good while that I rant about my beef with people who fetishize my job, but I couldn't ignore this comment.

Rachel, absolutely love your blog! What has happened to our profession? Not to upset you further, and risk glitter bombing my place, but commercials like this one for mens razors really bother me, and seem to perpetuate the stereo types. It is on tv constantly. With ads like this it is no wonder we get harassed at work..and home. 

https://www.ispot.tv/ad/Aprf/dollar-shave-club-mile-high

When I get up some courage, I'll share stories of my personal life. My dating history will sound awfully familiar to you. You are not alone.

First of all: Aw, thank you!

Second of all: Ew. Like, really ew. Seriously, do people not realize how disgusting airplane bathrooms are? Never mind how small? Unless you're on a government-subsidized airline in which First Class passengers basically have their own personal suites, even the nicest bathroom on the plane is about 1/8 of that size. And no matter which airline you're on, government subsidized or otherwise, I really don't want to tell you how unsanitary it is in there. Clean enough to use for the purpose it was intended for, followed by a good wash of the hands? Absolutely. Clean enough to use for sexual rendezvous? Um, no. So much ew.

Fun Dates are Fun Because They're Fun

Back again with another question this week, from one of you. If you haven't asked something but have a question burning on your mind, please take advantage of the anonymous comment option below and leave it for me! I'm really enjoying hearing what's on everyone's mind.

Today's question comes from K:

Rachel, how do I make dating fun? Do I Clockwork Orange myself with romcoms until I am convinced something like that can happen to me? Or more specifically, how can dating be more attractive to someone who is not socially inclined other than "if you don't do it, you'll be alone forever"? 

Also, how to politely tell my parents that I do not need them setting me up with their friends' children?? Last time I checked arson was a felony??
K

Interview With a Single Woman

I'm delighted to say that I got enough response to my last call for help to allow me to write and schedule my next several posts to be published on Wednesdays at noon for the next couple of weeks. All I can say is to those of you who replied, whether you left an actual question for me or not, thank you. And if you didn't write in with a question yet, please consider leaving one this time!

So, in no particular order, I'll be replying to you all over my next few posts.

OK Rachel, since you asked. What is most important quality in a man you just met: good looks, good paycheck, good sense of humour, secure future, honesty, or other? Be honest!! Will you date someone that was introduced through family of friends? Have you dated co-workers? Will you not date someone you have just met because you can't imagine yourself married to them, or do you let things play out and enjoy the moment? What type of man would you like to date: Businessman, teacher, pro athlete, farmer, military, musician, artist, scientist, doctor, or other? Finally, do you think you are too particular in selecting who you date, and that is why you are not meeting the right guy, or do you think you are not particular enough, and that is why you have had so many bad experiences? 

CD

Dear Men Who Hit on Me on the Plane:

Dear Men Who Hit on Me on the Plane,

You're only interested in me because I represent an unlimited supply of Jack & Cokes.

Sincerely,
Your Flight Attendant


No really, what is it about Jack Daniels that seems to be some sort of flight-crew-specific aphrodisiac? I should conduct a study.

But that's it folks, that's this week (and last week's) post. I'm having what we in the business of dating like to call "a dry spell," and I'm not talking about sexually. I mean my life has been devoid of even the smallest of romantic interactions, welcome or otherwise, unless you include a drunk man in a cowboy hat trying to get my number off of me on a flight to Miami this past weekend. (That's pretty much all there is to the story.)

So, in light of the situation, I have decided to open up a Q&A. To my friends who read this blog every time I post, the ones who e-mail me to tell me how much you've enjoyed it, THIS IS YOUR CHANCE TO HELP ME. Please, ask a question below about ANYTHING. Blogger will allow you to leave a comment anonymously. I would prefer you use this resource, rather than e-mail or messaging me separately, simply so I can keep everything together. However, if you would rather use one of those methods, that's fine.

I will answer anything within reason (i.e. if you ask whether I'm a member of the Mile High Club, I will send a glitter bomb to your house), whether it's about my personal dating history, about my opinion on dating etiquette, or about anyone who's ever been mentioned in the blog. Alternatively, if you want to share a story about your dating experiences, I would love to hear about it and talk about it in a post.

This will only work if I actually get a response, so if you're reading this, I'm talking to YOU.

ETA: It seems I should apologize. Anonymous comments were disabled on the blog without my realizing it. I have adjusted the settings so that you should be able to leave them now. If I am wrong, I apologize. Alternatively, if you prefer to contact me through e-mail or message on facebook/tumblr, you know that I never use real names on this blog and I will not share anyone's identity in a blog post.

Mr. Recovery & Flight Attendant Problems

Miss me? I realize I missed a week, but (as cliché as it may sound) I have been throwing myself into my work lately, taking on a lot of extra assignments and opportunities. Those who know me best know that being a Flight Attendant wasn't necessarily what I had planned for my life (Gone are my dreams of playing Juliet, Cordelia, or Ophelia, sadly.), but now that it's my life, I'm enjoying what I can about it—primarily the travel opportunities—and working very hard to ensure it's not what I'm doing for the rest of my career. A lot of Flight Attendants are in it for life, flying well into their 80s in many cases. I applaud them and think that's amazing, but I also know I will not be happy doing the same. So I'm working hard to make sure I have a future at my company that will bring me more fulfillment than than my current situation. Career goals? I'd like to be able to actually buy an airline ticket when I want to.

So what I'm saying is my love life is taking a necessary backseat, which has kind of been a relief, honestly, because I've been sick of dealing with it. If you're wondering about Coffee Meets Bagel, I was still using it up until last night. As I said, the nice thing about CMB is that it isn't an addictive time-killer. You log in once a day and occasionally check and reply to your messages.

Which is how I ended up talking to Mr. Recovery—so named because while we were chatting he was down in Baton Rouge helping his friends and family with damage control after a major flood. I know. Endearing, right?

Of Bagels & Lemon Bars

In my absolute determination to write a post about ANYTHING other than the fact that randomly, against all odds, I've been accidentally running into (and deliberately ignoring) Mr. Charming which for some reason led him to add me on SnapChat at 2:00 A.M. one morning, I downloaded a dating app.

So welcome to my review of Coffee Meets Bagel. I was inspired to retry this app because one of my new roommates met her current boyfriend on it about three months again. (Both new roommates are completely awesome, by the way. Thanks for asking.)

Pushing For Positvity

Lately this blog has become a bit of a downer. I guess the collateral of writing a blog about my love life is writing about my love life when it's less successful. So I have to decided to do two things to cheer everyone up. One, I am going to share a bit of dialogue that I had with my father this week when my parents were in town visiting me with their dog Wendy. Two, I am going to write a list of reasons I am happy to be single. The first one is going to be the easy part.

An Unexpected Redemption Story

I owe it to someone to patch up his reputation a little bit. So despite my desire to burn all men at the stake just now, I'm swallowing down my pride and admitting to a case of hasty judgment.

A couple of days ago I got a text from Mr. Entrepreneur, much to my shock. It was a late night text on a Friday, just asking how I've been. After everything that happened with Mr. Charming only a week prior, I wasn't exactly amused. Frankly I was pissed. Where does this guy get the nerve, thinking I want anything to do with him? Why do all these guys think they can treat me like shit and I will still jump at the chance to see them!?

Of course, after I calmed down a little bit, I remembered my promise not to ghost anyone, and I remembered that over all, Mr. Entrepreneur really didn't seem like such a bad guy. He just made a few mistakes and ultimately wasn't the right guy for me anyway. So I sent back the bare minimum "Fine, thanks," kind of reply. He didn't get the hint. Or maybe he did, but he had a little more tenacity than I'm actually giving him credit for. Remember: we're repairing his reputation here. Much like Lizzie Bennet in Pride & Prejudice I am not always a reliable narrator. I tell you stories from my own heavily biased view point. Either way, I got a second date ask out.

>>>> That's good! Would you want to hang out again? Or you weren't really feeling it? Haha.

Little Black Dress Moments

"So trust me when I say if a guy is treating you like he doesn't give a shit, he genuinely doesn't give a shit."

I wish I could say "Here endeth the lesson." But the truth is, this is where it begins. I am pretty sure that I opened my very first post on this site with this quote. It's a personal favorite of mine. But even with this life-altering approach to dating, it's still easy to get swept up in the temptation of making excuses for a person you're attracted to. That said, I pride myself that there's only so far he can go before I stop making those excuses.

Mr. Entrepreneur and the Dud Date

[If you haven't read my blog in a while, I hope you'll read this post because in addition to a general dating etiquette reminder I shouldn't have to make, the last couple of paragraphs also contain an important safety PSA that I really shouldn't have to make.]

For those of you waiting on the edges of their seats: Yes, I ended up going on a date with the Uber driver, Mr. Entrepreneur. The title of this post probably tells you everything you need to know, but I'm going to tell you all about it anyway.

I ended up postponing our date after I got in from a red-eye and had been yelled at by one too many passengers that day. I wasn't feeling much like being around other human beings that day, and I figured I wouldn't be giving Mr. Uber a fair chance if I went out with him in this mood. Besides that, he'd mentioned recently having had a nasty sore throat, and I figured he'd be relieved to get a little extra recovery time. (That, and I won't pretend my desire not to get sick myself wasn't a contributing factor. It definitely was.)

So Thursday night at last we met up. To Entrepreneur's credit, he chose a good location. I happen to be a big fan of Antique Taco in Wicker Park, and if you haven't been, you should definitely give it a shot. (Pro-Tip: Try the rosemary margarita. And if you're on a first date, I can say as someone of moderate-to-slightly-above-average alcohol tolerance, I drank one of these and didn't feel anything, so they're not dangerously potent when paired with food.)

Emotional Roller Coasters & Uber Drivers

I'm an emotional wreck sometimes. Just thought you should all know. Sometimes, literally in the course of 24 hours, with no extenuating circumstances, I can wake up in the morning thinking "I'm so glad I'm single; I hate dating because it's the actual worst," and end the night lying in bed crying (literally crying. I am not exaggerating this to you.) because "I am so lonely. Why won't anyone love me?"

If you think it sounds exhausting, confusing, and difficult to keep up with, imagine living it. It's a mess. And as of this week, I have a new rule:

Mr. Next Door & Something Refreshing

I have a crush, and it's not on Mr. Charming.

…okay, well to be fair, Mr. Charming still makes my heart go pitter-patter, but he's also exhausting. I don't like the amount of time I spend thinking about him, knowing that he's probably not thinking about me. Or if he is thinking about me, he's damned good at hiding it. Which to be perfectly honest, isn't that much better. Why hide it? I'm making my interest pretty obvious here, bro. You literally have nothing to lose, seeing as we left my dignity at the last rest stop 20 miles back.

He's been missing in action since the cookout last week, working almost non-stop (which, admittedly, is starting to explain the lost month to me a little bit.), so I've been left feeling very…bored. Bored and restless. Not a good combination.

A Matter of Trust

"Do you trust me?"

I don't know.

I know you've been waiting to hear this with baited breath. Mr. Charming's home from Greece. He had a spectacular time, as he showed me in his vacation photos, most of which displayed him either alone or in the company of male friends. If there were any other variety, I was thankfully shielded from those.

The funny thing is I was kept quite busy while he was gone, between work and out-of-town visitors. So I was amply distracted from treacherous thoughts of what he might be getting up to on his vacation half-way around the world.

But Wednesday was more difficult. I had an airport standby shift at work, and my mind had a little too much freedom to wander as I sat there for several hours with nothing to do. So I texted Mags, double-checking with her on a book-club related question. And about life's more important dilemmas:

<<<<Also, I have been doing sooo well this week about not thinking about Charming and definitely NOT picturing bikini-clad Greek girls seducing him, but I'm on airport standby with nothing to do for 6 hrs but read and now my brain won't shut up about it!!!!! ARGH!

It Appears I Have a Pattern

It's happening again: My annual "Screw this, I'm single and fabulous," attitude is settling in. Of course, it is inconveniently occurring during dating season, and come next winter I will probably be miserably bemoaning my loneliness once again.

Good job, emotions. Nice timing.

This recurring phenomenon has, as usual, been preceded by about a month or so of sheer desperation and/or carelessness. Now, this year, I wouldn't exactly call myself "desperate," but for the last several weeks I have definitely been using dating apps like it's my job, however fruitlessly. And careless? Well, I would say reaching out to Mr. Charming after his mysterious absence definitely qualifies.

What's great about this time of year for me is that it's kind of like hitting a peak speed in a sprint, followed swiftly by a cool-down period. You gave it a good shot, I tell myself, but men in general kind of suck, so who needs them anyway? Then, apparently, I unintentionally make drastic, life-altering decisions.

This morning, as I sip my coffee, I've been reviewing the last few years, and the odd things that have happened around this time.

Pen Pals Need Not Apply

Bumble is driving me batshit crazy. I don't know if it's the app or the men, or if it's simply the kind of men that this app attracts that are causing the problem, but I'm getting sick and tired of making small talk.

I know we've talked about it before, but I'm still going to walk you through a basic break-down of how Bumble works.

Think of a deck of cards, each one for a different man/woman (depending on your preference). The card contains up to six photos of a person. It pulls your age, job, and alma mater from your Facebook profile. And, you have the option to fill out a little "About Me" section. Here's mine:

An Abundance of Charm

"Lately I've been writing desperate love songs. 

I mostly sing them to the wall." 

All Your Life

The Band Perry 

I spent the last week and a half hidden away in a cabin on a South Carolina lake, with only my parents and their dog for company. It was in many ways a welcome respite from my regular life, although it was not the original plan for my vacation time. Sadly, several things got in the way of my mother's and my intentions to go to Europe, starting first with the continued hassle of renewing my apartment lease and finishing with my mother taking ill. (She's well now, but she was bed-ridden in terrible pain for days.)

Basically what I'm saying is I got an overdose of "me time" and although I'm now sporting a nice summer glow and have finally learned how to dock the pontoon boat on my own, there were days when I thought the isolation would drive me crazy.

What's new? Mostly people's reactions to my last post. It's an interesting thing to have so many people with the same endgame (my happiness) so strongly disagree. After hearing that I had sought out Mr. Charming's company, many friends expressed intrigue or various shows of support. After all, the move was a bit unlike me, but I was telling the story with a grin on my face so there did not appear to be immediate need for worry. Still, at least one person expressed extreme distaste for my behavior. And my mother is always horrified when I text a boy first, no matter the circumstances. So rest assured that whichever place on the spectrum your opinion on my recent decision-making occupies, I've probably gotten an earful of it from one source or another. 

Mr. Charming? Oh he's doing well. Still firing off more mixed signals than a broken traffic light, but yes, very well indeed.

Feeling Reckless & Loving It

You're not going to approve. I'm just telling you right now. You're going to bury your face in your hands and sigh, deep from within your soul, at how disappointed you are in me.

I don't care.

Shortly after my stint on OkCupid, which was, again, full of nothing but regrets, Mr. Alumni asked me out for drinks. I put him off, claiming business and trying to make up my mind if I should ignore my gut instinct and give him a chance anyway. And then he asked me out a second and third time and as much as I admire persistence, I finally turned him away.

And then I re-downloaded Tinder. Which convinced me that I am slowly becoming asexual because I was not attracted to ANYONE in that bottomless pit of men.

So then I downloaded Bumble and was reassured that I am, in fact, a sexual being because there were lots of men on there whom I found attractive. Thank God.

OkCupid, Mr. Alumni, & So Many, Many Regrets

I have no self-control. That's what this boils down to, really. I'm an idiot with no self control.

I was home sick, and bored, and I'd already blogged for a second time that week, and I'm still fighting this bizarre urge to text Mr. Charming. The desire fluctuates between hoping it will somehow magically turn into him begging to see me again (unlikely) and the desire to demand an explanation for why he dropped off the face of the planet (which I doubt he would give me even if he did reply).

So in my desire to avoid getting myself into that horrible situation, I put myself in another horrible situation instead.

I downloaded OkCupid's app.

And I have nothing but regrets.

My Psycho Psyche

I'm updating twice this week, mostly because I just had to call in sick and I'm home in bed with a blocked ear (things you shouldn't fly with: a blocked ear) and nothing better to do.

Also, I'm updating because my subconscious is getting a little out of control.

Look, I realize I'm lonely. That's normal. There are times when being single is a lot of fun, and I am totally comfortable and confident with just being my awesome self, by myself. And then there's other times, times like right now in which I just straight up feel lonely and really miss the companionship of having a boyfriend.

I know, congratulations, Self, on single-handedly undoing the feminist movement. Except that we all know I don't believe that, that I have very firmly stated that there is nothing wrong with the desire to have love in your life.

Have you noticed that this post already sounds like I'm arguing with myself? That's probably a pretty accurate depiction of what's going on with me lately.

Unexpected Struggles

The past week and a half has been a struggle.

Not just in a #thestruggleisreal kind of way. I mean the word in its truest sense: I mean I had to make a forceful and violent effort against obstacles to continue going about my life.

Being a flight attendant is not an easy job. I wouldn't usually call it an intellectual challenge, but it is an emotional one much of the time. Passengers have called me names and yelled at me this week. I have worked with coworkers who saw how young I am and decided they needed to knock me down a peg, and spent days treating me with condescension and disrespect. One passenger mocked me for an entire day because I told her to sit down during takeoff. Another yelled at me for checking to see that her seatbelt was fastened. A woman tried to get in a fight with me because I smiled at her while politely asking her to stow her bag for takeoff. A man intentionally tripped me while I was going down the aisle. Things like this happen all the time, but the past 10 days they all sort of clumped themselves together and happened at once.

Be nice to your flight attendants, guys. We're there for your safety. We're literally just trying to help you. We know that traveling is stressful, and the seats are too small, and delays are miserable, and you have to get to your business meeting/cousin's wedding/grandmother's funeral/Carribbean vacation on time, but there's also only so much we can do. Don't forget that we're human, too.

Because in the midst of all that, I was also squatting down to ask little kids what they'd like to drink at their eye level and making their day. I was rushing against the flow of deplaning to help a young man with a gushing nose bleed. I was letting a little old woman lean on me so she could get to her seat without any trouble. And I was following procedures to make sure that you are 100% safe while you travel today.

But you're not here to read about me complaining about life in a combined customer service and safety professional role. You're here because if my inbox last Sunday is anything to go by, you're dying to know what Mr. Mess had to say.

Paris, Suburbia, & A Great Big Mess

Ladies and Gentlemen, the Captain has turned on the seatbelt sign. Please return to your seats and strap the hell in because this story could pass itself off as the plot of a CW drama.

At some point I'm going to have to do a major backtrack to fill you in on some personal history, but for now let's just start with last Thursday. I was wallowing in my misery over Mr. Charming's drop off the face of the earth, sitting an airport standby shift for work. As you know, a Reserve day is when a flight attendant is on call. Airport standby is served at the airport being Johnny-on-the-spot for those last minute emergencies like a crew member getting in a car wreck coming into work or getting suddenly ill in the middle of the sequence. They need someone to send to the gate immediately to try to keep departure on time. Usually we get a standby shift once or twice a month when on Reserve. You following me so far?

So I'm at the airport, in uniform, reading my book and hoping I won't get sent anywhere and instead I'll get to go home after my six hours shift is up. I was still feeling pretty depressed and I wanted to go home and watch a sad movie and eat chocolate ice cream. But it was not meant to be. Instead, God and Crew Scheduling saw fit to send me to Paris.

Paris.

Rejected

Oh, let's be honest. We all saw the writing on the wall. We knew this was coming. I won't even pretend to be blindsided myself. In spite of my occasionally lacking judgment skills when it comes to dating, even I can't kid myself.

I haven't heard from Mr. Charming in over a week now. In fact, I haven't heard from him since he told me he'd let me know if he was free Friday. In other words, apparently I don't even warrant so much as a

>>>> can't make it sry

text.

But guys? It still hurts. Even when you know you're headed for a fall, see it coming miles away, when the thing actually happens, foresight doesn't make it any less…ouch.

In Which Both Charming and My Chill Are Absent

The facts were these:

I saw Charming last week, right before leaving town for my cousin's wedding in Atlanta. I was having the great "Are We Exclusive" internal panic you may have heard tell about. But I had calmed down a touch. I was convincing myself to go with the flow and let the conversation come up naturally.

I left town and didn't hear from him the entire weekend. I resisted the urge to send him the requested photo, partly because the only time I apparently warranted a photograph the entire weekend was when I was holding my niece. I had a feeling a photo of me and a baby might send a weird message.

I got back to town and bit the bullet by asking how things at work were (he'd had a spot of trouble about a missed trip and I had been waiting all weekend to hear if it had been cleared up).

Exclusion Anxiety with Mr. Charming

Remember last week? When I was working on finding my cool again and not being insecure about my dating life and whether or not a guy likes me? Well, all of that was going quite well, until I went to my friend Lana's for dinner last Monday night.

With Lana's husband Mark out of town for a few days, and Mags' boyfriend Gordon working late, the three of us were having a girls' night in to gossip freely. In between breaks to check on Lana's baby, who is going through a "I cry if anyone but Mom holds me" phase, Mags was discussing the new apartment she and Gordon are moving into in a few weeks, and Lana was explaining Mark's disappointment that his job keeps sending him on business trips when he wants to be home with her and their son.

And then the subject turned to me and my doings. I filled them in on all my work aspirations and how the job has been going, but what they really wanted to know about was Mr. Charming.

Call Me Miss Insecure

I'll be blunt. Dating Mr. Charming has reawakened a part of myself long since forgotten, a part of myself that I absolutely, uninhibitedly do not like: the insecure part.

Before anyone jumps to any unsavory conclusions about the man in question, this is not his fault.

…unless you're blaming him for the fact that I like him, in which case, what a bastard.

But short of that, this is mostly down to me, and perhaps a little bit of the blame also lies on the men who came before. Oh, and absurd gender roles that society has forced on us.

You see, after that oh-so-charming first date with Mr. Charming, I found myself in unfamiliar territory. I was stuck waiting around to see if he would ask me out a second time. This might sound incredibly arrogant, but the truth is I haven't been in this situation very often. Most of the time, as you're well aware, I feel lukewarm at best about a first date. It is a rare occasion that I go beyond a second date with someone. The select instances that I have, I've been sucked headfirst into a hurricane.

For the record, this nearly always turns out to be a mistake. The primary examples are the infamous Misters Manipulation & Mess. Here's an overview:

Mr. Charming & the Minty Fresh First Date

It was the best of times, it was the worst of times. I was trying to go on a first date. It would have helped things significantly if Mr. Charming and I hadn't had to keep canceling on one another. But let me rewind for you.

The last you had heard, Mr. Charming had reached out to me on Facebook. We chatted for a couple of hours, and it ended with him asking if I was free to "go get a drink or three" sometime in the next week. I told him my next night off was Wednesday.

To which he replied he would get back to me.

What?

I blinked, confused. Had I already broken some unspoken rules of flirtation by saying Wednesday? Should I have said Thursday? He asked me out. Was he already trying to back out of it? This is how insecure I am, folks.

"Doors Closing"

So there I was, just a couple of weeks ago, having one of those one-in-a-million days of absolute fabulousness. By all counts, I was on my A-game. I was coming home from a work function and a day of general bad-assery, and I looked hot. Have you had that kind of day? When everything feels like it's falling perfectly into place for your benefit? And your outfit is perfect, which racks up your confidence points like no one's business? I had on my favorite black pencil skirt with a super chic fuchsia blouse and those shoes. You know the ones. Not to mention my hair was completely on point. I felt great, and everything I'd set out to do that day, I had knocked out of the park. The Force was strong with me.

And there's nothing like that feeling of self-assuredness to really make you feel like you could have a man eating out of the palm of your hand if you wanted to. The even better part, though? I didn't care. I could make a guy putty for me, but I was too busy being fabulous to worry about men that day.

Me and my shoes have a world to conquer. Step aside.

Social Media & Why No One Is Going to Read This

This is not the post that was supposed to go up this week. I had written something entirely different, scheduled to go up on Tuesday but then delayed it because a story I thought was over suddenly picked up again. I knew the first blog would have to be edited to allow for continuation later.

In summary: I met someone. We found each other on social media (through a slightly embarrassing plot twist) and he asked me out for drinks. But then I got the brush off.

Bummer. Disappointment abounds. Etc. Etc. I already made plans to meet a girlfriend for drinks instead. Life goes on.

But not for my mother.

Mr. Note & the Mysterious Missing Effort

I would like to make a request…no, a plea to those persons asking other persons out on dates: You know that first dates suck. Can you please, please put some effort into trying to make the experience NOT SUCK?

Don't get me wrong. I realize it's not all your responsibility. Whether you are the asker or the askee, a first date is stressful, awkward, and just all-around wretched.

That said, as the asker, it is your responsibility to at least try to make it not horrible. You were the one who decided this was worth the risk after all. You looked at the other person and said "Yes. Yes that person is so potentially great that it would be worth putting myself through the torture of a first date to hopefully get to a second date [or whatever your endgame may be]."

Why the desperate plea with humanity? Well, I had a date last Sunday, with Mr. Note—who, no matter how hard I try to give him that nickname, just keeps ending up being referred to as Laundry Room Guy—and it was incredibly disappointing.

Mr. Note & Why You Should Do More Cute Things

An hour and a half ago, I sat down at my computer, opened up my blogger account, sighed and closed out of it.

Nothing to write about this week, I thought, not unless I want to do a soap box rant. Which, trust me, I have a couple of those stored up for just such an occasion, but I'm not in the mood to talk about Why Men Should Learn More About Body Language or Why Am I the Only Single Person in This Bar? today.

I was going to give it til the weekend and then decide whether or not I should just skip a week (gasp!), which I would rather not do because half the point of writing this blog is getting me in the habit of writing regularly, and meeting a self-imposed deadline.

Mr. Mature & My Relapse Into "Ghosting"

So my New Year's Resolution to never ghost anyone again lasted...two months? Almost?

That's embarrassing.

But let me start at the beginning: Valentine's Day. I had some pretty epic romantic plans this year with my one true love, Cheese. (Shhhh. Don't tell Coffee. They can't know about each other.) I was on 24-hour call for my job, so even if I had wanted to go out, had a date, or indeed, someone to celebrate Love & Chocolate Day with, I wouldn't have been able to. But I had plans, let me tell you. They involved a Captain America movie marathon, Julia Child's recipe for cheese souffle, and (if work would have released me early) a bottle of chardonnay. I was stoked.

The Continuing Saga of Omar & What It's Like Dating Today

This week's post—or I should say last week's post—is coming to you a little late. The reason? Well, I was just so overwhelmed with endless ideas for what to write about that I couldn't decide.

Lie. That was a lie. Just in case you couldn't tell.

Oh, don't get me wrong, I had a few things come to mind: Valentine's Day and Why People Who Complain About Commercialism are Annoying, The Continuing Saga of Omar, Why I Deleted Clover, etc. But the real truth is I was busy, and as much as I would like to say I have a few stories saved to post on weeks when I don't have time to write…I'm not that organized.

For those of you interested in the Continuing Saga of Omar, enjoy:

Clover, Stating My Intentions, and Omar

So this week my dating app addiction led me down a new path: Clover.

If you aren't familiar with my addiction, here's the need-to-know summary: I download dating apps out of boredom because I like window-shopping through an endless supply of men. Only once in a blue moon do any of these apps induce me to go on an actual date.

What did I think of Clover? Well, it confirmed my belief that this world can only be cleansed by fire.

Clover markets itself as Tinder meets OKCupid. I've never used the latter, so I can't compare on that front. But the Tinder-concept makes sense: it's your basic swipe-right-swipe-left format for shuffling through potential matches. Window shopping galore. The major difference is that this app also has a section that allows you to see your matches, people you've liked, AND (here's the selling point) people who've liked you—whether or not you've even checked them out to see if it's mutual.

A Lesson in Assumptions

I'm going to share something that I wrote with you, but first I'm going to put it in context. It was a short story that was barely half a page long from the perspective of Person A, who has been in love with Person B for a very long time, and all the little ways she has surprised him over the years. Someone recently quoted my own work to me (every writer's dream!) and said how much they loved this line:

"It was a lesson in assumptions: the important things about a person can't be found in a database."

Mr. Comfortable and the Uncomfortable Second Date

When you last left your hero (that's me!) she was contemplating the offer of a second date with Mr. Comfortable, fellow-user of the dating app Bumble.

And when I say I was offered a second date, I should say he had sent me one or two texts the next couple of days, having officially asked for my phone number so we could take our conversation over to real, actual texts. The actual difference? Only the intimate detail of my actual phone number, giving him the power to, well, call me if he so desired. I am forever grateful to my iPhone for taking the pressure off of giving a man my real phone number by allowing me the power to block him if his attention becomes unwanted. I think I can speak for all women (and many men) when I say ABOUT DAMN TIME.

Anyway, that tangent aside, he had sent me one or two texts, and then one evening, when he found out I was getting home from my work trip that night, he asked if I wanted to come over to his place so he could cook me dinner.

Bumbling Along With Mr. Comfortable

Here's the cold hard truth: Since last week, I've already written two full posts for this blog that I then chose not to share. The stories, you won't be surprised to know, are regarding my dating life of the past year and a half (i.e. since the last time I update Me & Mr. Right Now). But here's why this blog is difficult for me. Sometimes I'm not sure what to share. How much is too much personal information? When does a post cross the line from a relatable story into me gratuitously whining about how "Love done me wrong?" And also, the introspective question: At what point am I really ready to share some things? When does it stop being "too soon?"

Perhaps one day, when I feel more removed from those stories, I will share them, but for now, here's a summary:

Keep Looking for It

"I'm sure you hear this all the time, but it will happen when you're not looking for it."

Next person to say this to me gets spit in their eye.

The well-intended person, of course, means to be encouraging. Comforting, even. Failed relationships? Feeling lonely? Just got off a disappointing date? Once thought you'd be engaged by this age? All of these remarks lately, whether made humorously or not, have been met with the same pithy aphorism:

"Quit worrying about it and it will happen."

Yes, dear friend [or perfect stranger, as the case may be], how stupid of me to desire companionship. You're completely right. I should definitely flip the on/off switch for that.

…oh wait.