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?

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.

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.

Ruling Out Mr. Wrong

In my last post, I received a little bit of flack for my so-called "rules."  Nothing rude, but valid points, mostly from men, that I might be being a bit too selective.  Is it fair to rule someone out just because he called in less than 24 hours?  No maybe not, but let's talk about how that rule came into existence in the first place.

But let me start by recapping the couple of "rules" I mentioned to refresh your memories: