Mr. Whimsy & A Spit Take

I'll bet you're wondering what happened with eHarmony. Well, I'm still on it, but I'm increasingly disappointed. After the initial wave of I'm-a-brand-new-user-so-super-popular messages, "smiles," and conversation-starter multiple choice questions, the gushing river of eHarmony has slowed to a trickle. Which is fine. What I learned from last year is that I need my dating app life to not overwhelm me. Getting a hit two or three times a week is more than plenty.

eHarmony & Mr. Not Bad

Well, folks, when we last left our hero (that's me!), she was distracting herself with the holidays, entertaining her family and dealing with her disorganized older brother, shopping for gifts for everyone on her list, and whipping up a bowl of champagne punch for her inaugural Christmas party, what she hoped would become a new annual tradition.

She spent New Year's Eve alone with a bottle of wine, enough Italian take-out for 2 people, and an endless queue of NCIS on Netflix. She fell asleep by 10:30 P.M. She made a resolution this year to start treating herself like a lady. To start doing more of the things she loved, like going to the theatre, the museum, to nice restaurants, and to dress herself up to do it. What was the point of having pretty clothes that never got worn?

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.)

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.

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:

Tinderella and the Bottomless Pit of Men

The trouble with online dating is that since its beginnings, it's been so easy for people to pretend to be something they're not.  Take what happened to my friend Mags, for instance.  I was discussing online dating with her and our mutual friend Lana just last month.  Mags is in a long-term relationship with my friend Gordon, and Lana is happily married to her college sweetheart.   We were discussing the question of rules and "deal-breakers," various experiences we've been through while dating.  When I asked about "non-negotiables," Mags didn't pause didn't think, didn't bat an eyelash but said, "He has to have hands."

Lana and I stared at her.

"Hands?" I repeated.  I supposed that hands were, after all, a nice thing to have, but that was still an odd qualification to give for a potential love interest.

Mr. Real Life and the Curse of the Far-Away-Girl

It was a dark and stormy night—No, really.  I was in Chicago and it was a legit downpour.—and I was descending the stairs of Chicago's Underground Lounge & Bar, a seedy, hole-in-the-ground dive-bar that is the perfect spot to go in Wrigleyville if you're trying to avoid the Valley of the Bros ¹ that is Clark and Addison.

I was in town for a two nights only and there to see my friend's band play and I was busy scrolling through my Sparkology app on my phone.  Although admittedly, cell service in the underground bar is a little shoddy.

Dating Mr. Online

Once Upon a Time there was a beautiful and kind young lady and a charming and nice young man.  The lady was a busy career woman and lived a very large city and sometimes it's just, y'know, hard to meet people.  The man was really a very nice guy.  He just hadn't met the right woman to appreciate his…erm…niceness.

Then one day, they both created online dating profiles, met up, got married, and lived happily ever after.

I can't help it.  The story just doesn't have the right ring to it.