Solo in the 2nd City

ALERT: How I Met Your Mother Spoilers Ahead. Do NOT read if you have not seen the season finale.

For years now, I have been a very loyal How I Met Your Mother fanatic. For those of you non-fanatics, the entire premise of the show is the main character, Ted Mosby, and the story about how he ends up meeting the mother of his children. It’s an epic tale of love, dating, and being single. 

I am Ted Mosby. 

(Our friend Rachel L.C. says, “I am Lloyd Dobbler.” I am to Ted as she is to Lloyd.)

I have always identified with Ted. I have a parallel Marshall and Lily (his best friends who have been together since college and have the relationship he wants). My Lily even has red hair too! 

Ted is a romantic. The things that Ted does, that he thinks about, that come out of his mouth, his actions, always make me think, “OMG YES! Me too!” It seems that whatever is going on in the show, is parallel to my own life. Ted’s been single for years, minus a few people he’s dated here and there, but overall, nothing serious since he was left at the altar. The show has helped me consider my own journey through single hood and looking for love. And just like Ted, I’ve spent years looking for the one. 

We all knew the show was finally going to introduce her (with next season being the final season and all). A few episodes ago, it was revealed that he would meet the mother in 45 days. I watched that episode with my best friend, my Lily. He even said, “Maybe it will be 45 days for you too.”

Fast forward to yesterday, I had a few moments of free time, enough to catch up and watch the season finale. It has been a very confusing, interesting, emotional, exciting, and exhausting past few weeks. I have resigned the idea of a traditional relationship, marriage, or whatever and if I will ever meet my version of “the mother.” 

And so has Ted. So much so, he’s going to move to “Clevelandy-New York” (Chicago). He has decided to continue his search somewhere new. My new search doesn’t necessarily involve a new city, but a new idea of happiness and how to achieve what I want.

The very end of the episode, and there she is. The mother. With all of the clues and signs they’ve been telling us about for years. And we know, here she is. Finally.

I burst into tears. Lost my shit. 

Because my fictional single spirit animal, Ted Mosby, won’t be there for me to commiserate and identify with anymore. He’s going to find her and I have zero faith that I ever will find him. 

-Melinda

Remember that time you went out with a male model from OKC who claimed he only dates girls that wear heels and are “rockstars in bed” and then two and a half years later you go see a movie with your friend and that same guy shows up with his girlfriend both dressed as Trekkies and toting $100 replica phasers because he went to high school with your friend?

I CANNOT MAKE THIS SHIT UP.

Here is an excerpt from the email I sent to my friend about how the date went back in 2010:

He ended up choosing Cosi to meet at downtown yesterday at noon. I was a little irritated he waited until the day of to tell me where we were meeting. Anyway, he is definitely a good looking dude, but after an hour of talking, we’re just not on the same page. He started the modeling thing within the last year and I think that’s exposed him to a lot of partying and club hopping and just shit that I’m not into. He said one thing he looks for in a girl is someone who can walk in heels. Really? Also a must have is that she’s a “rockstar” in bed. Well, OK ,we all like different things in the sack, and that kind of pressure isn’t anything I need. He told me stories about crazy girls he’s encountered recently (none from OKC, since supposedly I’m the first person he’s met in real life). One of these girls he referred to as the “white girl with fake big ‘titties’”. Ugh. He wants to hang out again after the holidays and get me “dolled up” and out to the clubs. Err, sure, we’ll see if that happens. I guess my thing is, isn’t it apparent to him as well that we don’t really have much in common? I dunno. I suppose I’m stupid for agreeing to hang out again, even though that’s yet to actually be seen. The whole thing just sort of irritated me and made me wonder why these dudes think they can talk so openly about their sex lives so soon. Like really, all of this sex talk in the middle of the day over sandwiches is a bit much. I don’t mean to sound like a prude, but it felt a bit out of line.

In other words, even in 2010 things were equally bad as they were this last time around on good ol’ OkCupid. And yeah, I do blame them for putting me into contact with a whole bunch of crap. Going on an online dating site is something people do out of desperation, loneliness, curiosity and above all HOPE. Even if you think this whole thing is a joke, there is a teeny, tiny part in all of us who hopes to connect in a real way. 

OkCupid is where those dreams go to die.

Anyway, of course as the realization began to hit me about where I knew this guy from, I sent a text to my friend standing next to me to inform him of the situation.

We had some time to chat about it over a drink before the movie and he gave me a little more insight about the dude and what his deal was/is. As much as the background information shed more light, I have mixed feelings about all kinds of things, like what kind of person we choose to become based on our past. I am very aware of how history shapes our way of thinking and our behavior, but I’m much more into the Bad Guys turning into Good Guys than the other way around.

But I also know that’s not a simple thing, sadly.

Thankfully, we were at a movie, so there wasn’t an opportunity for us to have the “I know you from somewhere, A ha! moment” that probably would have been awkward.

Instead, I gave his girlfriend the up and down. If you can imagine my physical polar opposite, she was it.

Here’s to Chicago: The city where you can’t go anywhere without running into someone you’ve gone out with.

-Carly

P.S. Oh, and that was back in the day when I thought “we should hang out again” was a truthful statement. My naivete was quickly squashed.

The other day I was on the bus and couldn’t help but notice a guy furiously typing away a wall of text to someone. We’re talking about an endless paragraph that if I didn’t know better, looked like an email.

But it wasn’t.

I have no idea what the message was about or who it was for, but I think I’d be really freaked out if someone sent me a text that long. I feel weird sending one that’s longer than the 160 allowable characters as it is.

Text messaging has replaced every form of communication and the nuances are subtle and often times subjective.

I don’t know when it happened, but suddenly ending a sentence with a period seems too firm. The timing of replying has changed for me. I pretty much get back to someone as soon as I can (when I actually see the message) instead of waiting. I just don’t see the sense. If the point is to play The Game, I merely respond with something innocuous and typically without a follow up question.

Time in between texts gets way more touchy when you’re starting to date someone or in a relationship. I remember with two people in particular I hadn’t heard from them in five days. With both, I took that as a sign that they truly didn’t give a shit.

And I was right.

The time of day or night in sending or receiving is also key. I feel like the turning point is 10 pm. Before seems like a somewhat reasonable time to see what someone is up to. After midnight is probably only acceptable in the industry world, which I’m not a part of. But after 2 a.m.? We all know what that means. Even if it’s not a straight up booty call, it’s certainly some kind of drunken accident/mistake that would not have happened otherwise. Text allows you to send something late or early without much consequence other than annoyance or suspicion.

There’s often not a good way to “end” a text conversation. It just sort of fizzles out, yet it’s hard not to notice when you’re the last person who wrote. Then you’re left deciding if and when you’ll text again. Later that day? The next morning? The next day, but later? Never? If I instigated today, can I not tomorrow?

Don’t get too detailed. Don’t write too many sentences. Don’t use too many exclamation points. Don’t ask too many questions. Don’t ask the wrong questions. Don’t double text. Don’t triple text. Don’t text shout. Don’t use “lol”.

How about the utter agony and full on panic we experience if our phone dies or we accidentally leave it at home? Ask any one of my friends about my obnoxious use of my phone charger. The best is when you finally do get around to checking your phone after not having it for an entire day and no one has messaged you. Or if they have, it wasn’t important at all because NEWS FLASH: It never really is. But, but, how will we tell someone we’re running 5 minutes late, or that there’s a really smelly person on the bus or that there’s a line outside or that we’re already inside waiting?!?!

Or how about the constant anger and exasperation when we don’t hear from someone? “I KNOW they got my message”. I have no idea how many hours (read: days, weeks, months) I’ve lost experiencing these feelings, but it’s too many. Our expectation of getting a response is at do or die levels at all times. Apparently we are all on-call emergency room doctors.

Remember the days when you picked up the phone and called someone and prayed they’d answers instead of hoping for their voicemail? Remember hearing the sound of someone’s voice, someone’s sighs, someone’s laughter, feeling their hesitations, changes in tone, detecting sarcasm? Remember not being cut off by a dropped call or the sound of the train in the background or loud bar noises while the person screams “I CAN’T HEAR YOU”?

What is a conversation without a genuine reaction? Where’s the satisfaction in trying to make someone laugh only to elicit a “HAHAHA”? How can you be sweet when the best response is “Awwwwww”? Worse yet, relying on a method of communication that allows you to edit, erase and “fix” doesn’t translate in the real world of person to person contact.

There’s no emotion in texting. No one but my fellow bus passengers can see that my furious typing translates into anger. Only I know the intent of certain comma placements or ellipses (I use these a lot…).

I don’t know if I’ll ever perfect the “art” of text messaging and frankly, I sort of wish I didn’t have to.

-Carly

My Millennial upbringing has programmed me to always be planning for the next goal, the next step in life. YOLO was not a term or ideal applied to my generation, at least, not to me personally. (Read more about my thoughts on that here.) Setting goals, plans on how to reach them, were key in my life. Included in such life plans were my plan for relationships.

In every long term relationship I’ve had, we had goals, timelines, expectations. Always a question of when/where/how is this going and how will we make that happen.

My college boyfriend and I made plans on me joining him in Philadelphia after I finished school. I was to go to graduate school there, move in with him, and live happily ever after. I didn’t get into grad school at Penn, and decided instead to move to Northwest Ohio. This eventually ended our relationship. The plans we had laid out, diminished. 

My last ex got into law school on the West coast. The plans were also made. Timelines of an engagement, moving, our plans on post-law school, when our wedding would be, all laid out. This made it even harder and more soul crushing when not a damned one of those things happened.

Even in my single life, I have always anticipated the question, “Where is this going?” And if the person wasn’t on board with my plan, or where I wanted to go, then I was done. Don’t get me wrong, I never think you should compromise what you want out of a relationship, but the point is that I overthink about what is going on and where it’s going, and therefore, it goes nowhere.

So right now I’m finding myself in a situation that has no long term capacity. The expectations are that there are no expectations or timelines or goals. 

I had forgotten how to do that. Without the worrying about the future and just being, god forbid, happy, I hope maybe I’ll learn how to translate this into someone who may have long term capacity. JUST ENJOY IT. Stop worrying about being 30 and single and unpartnered and when and how and where kids are going to pop out of you or if they’re not and where you’re going to live and how you will make that work and what sort of wedding you’ll have together or not because he doesn’t believe in marriage.

Planning and not being able to just be effing happy is my tragic flaw. Because it’s goddamned terrifying. TERRIFYING. When you make all these plans, you know what to expect. You know what your future holds.

So I’m challenging myself to just be happy. To not dwell on how I will be able to get what I’m looking for long term, because I am not a fortune teller. Remember that life happens while it’s happening and getting to what you want is all about living it. I’m going to keep reminding myself that. 

YOLO, y’all.

-Melinda

Because you may receive messages such as the following:

Roses are red, violets are blue, 
I realize that I’m, not good looking like you. 

But I’m kinda funny, and I’ll make you chuckle, 
And if I’ve been bad, tie me up with your buckle. 

You can choke me and beat me, and make me your slave, 
Ok I’m just kidding, I’m sooooo not that brave. 

Whats the worst that can happen, with all these sweet rhymes, 
I promise you won’t end up, on the cover of the LA Times. 

-Wheels

Oh yeah, and he’s listed as 20 years old.

Don’t forget about that block feature, ladies and gents!

-Mel

PS. Who else got this same message??

(This image is from a short film by Disney called “Paperman”, which you should hunt down…great stuff.)

The other day, I stopped by an establishment where my friend was working to say “Hi”.

I ended up staying a lot longer than I expected when the Bulls game went into triple overtime.

This bar in particular tends to attract more males than females, and I’ve often noticed guys by themselves, reading a book or there to eat and watch sports.

I’ve done this a handful of times in my life (gone to a bar alone), but mostly I like the excuse to stop in and chat with my friend.

Anyway, a guy sitting near me and I started chatting about the game. He’d closed out his tab, but once it went into overtime, ordered another beer.

The game ends, we all do a shot, I high five him, he asks what my name is, and then he lingers for a moment. Another one of my girl friends had shown up, so I talked to her for a bit, and eventually he left.

Ten Month Ago Me would have said something like “you should stay and hang out” or “think you’ll be back here for the next game?” But I’m just not interested in initiating anything at the moment. Perhaps I’m missing out on opportunities, but I’ve spent the better part of my life being forward and taking the lead and that can be tiresome. Plus, with all of the wishy washy attitudes I’ve come across all these years being single, it’d be nice to just KNOW someone was interested because they did something overt, like ask for my number and actually use it.

I won’t lie. I’ve strategized going back to this bar (like last night, for instance) in the hopes that running into him again might spark something. I even saw him walking by a restaurant I was at on Tuesday night, but was in no position to do anything about it.

I’m sure as the days and weeks past, I will forget about him and our brief moment. I suppose I just wonder what might have happened if I’d at least done more than try to impress him with my knowledge of basketball.

-Carly

It’s been quite a while since someone occupied the space next to me in bed.

So much so, I’ve created a weird dent in my mattress and in an effort to correct that, have been trying to sleep on a different side, in different positions.

I’m not sure I ever got entirely used to sleeping with someone else. I had a twin bed for most of my life. I upgraded to a double sized mattress in my early 20’s and wondered why it took so long.

There are layers of my anxiety when it comes to a new person being in it.

The overarching problem is that I hate the idea of someone being unable to sleep because of me. The biggest issue is my soul destroying self consciousness of snoring. I actually pray whoever I’m with is a deep sleeper/snorer themselves so it can alleviate some of my angst. I also get up and use the bathroom at least once, so I prefer to sleep on the side closest to the door. I’ve had mini panic attacks being squished between a body and a wall. Also, I don’t really like to be touched, let alone spooned, while I sleep.

All of this leads to ME being unable to sleep, so I’ll spend most of the night waiting for the other person to fall asleep, trying to lay on my stomach, facing the other way to minimize my snoring. If they stir, I’ll awaken, thinking it had something to do with me. I’m aware of every slight movement, every toss and turn.

Even when I was living with someone, we slept with a fan going for white noise and eventually upgraded to a king size bed where I’d still find myself clinging to the edge hoping my existence wasn’t impeding his slumber.

So yeah, I sleep a lot better when I’m alone. I prefer it.

And yet, becoming comfortable with it again is the very symbol of my single life. It sums up the everyday self awareness I have in a relationship, about who I am and what I do that effects another person.

I’m getting used to my life without someone beside me.

-Carly

This is not a dating blog. I repeat, this is NOT A DATING BLOG.

The assumption that being single means that I’m dating is an incorrect one.

I may go out on a date (though lets not get into what that even means nowadays), but that doesn’t mean I always talk about it here.

There is a difference between actively dating and being open to it. Actively dating means I’m on OkCupid or going to meet-ups or begging new friends to set me up. Being open to it means I’d go on a date if the stars aligned and someone actually asked me out.

Right now I’m the latter.

Honestly, the more I think about it, the more I doubt it’s even possible to find a “boyfriend”. I can barely hang out with a person without having to wonder what all of the implications are, what our motivations are, how we feel, etc. that I’d rather shut it all off and just Be.

Maybe all of this indifference and ambiguity is rubbing off on me. I’m less and less inclined to invest time or emotions into someone when all I sense from them is uncertainty. Perhaps I could get excited about someone if they exhibited any sort of enthusiasm about me.

A couple of my lady friends posted this article, which I too re-posted, about how men should stop hanging out with women and start dating them. I couldn’t agree more. While I get that times have changed (a lot), I’d still like to be asked out. I’d still like to define what we’re doing as going on a date. I’d like for someone to do this ahead of time, or what we used to call making plans.

This isn’t about some antiquated, anti-feminist line of thinking.

Nothing will ever come of two people whose actions spell out MEH. I can’t begin to contemplate you as a partner if you have my phone number and don’t use it (Sidenote: Stop asking for my number if you have zero intention of using it. No one is forcing you to ask me for it and all it does is make me think you’re interested. Seriously, knock it off.) I’ll never know if there is potential if after we go out, you say we should do this again, and then never follow up (Again, enough with the B.S. No need to say things we don’t mean.) We’re never going to get anywhere if I’m only being considered, never pursued. Lack of effort is not cute.

We can’t truly get to know one another unless we spend time together, alone, with the understanding that this is about more than just being in the same room together deciding if we feel anything.

If I have to beat down your door or scream my undying affection for you from a mountaintop to get your attention, that’s just not going to happen. Why can’t we just go do something fun and then decide if we want to do it again? What is so hard about this?

“I don’t know” seems to be the rallying cry of this dating age. Does no one ask anyone out anymore? Is that, like, not A Thing?

Perhaps this isn’t a phenomenon at all, but rather my own struggle with being single for four years having yet to find someone/fall in love again. Or even more bluntly, that no one has been, or is, interested in dating me.

-Carly

I was being single. Thanks for reminding me.

After reading this article about how long term unemployment is ruining the economy, I wondered if this might also be true of long term singledom.

Thanks to the handy application Timehop, an email appears in my inbox to tell me what was going on exactly one year ago today. Apparently I was writing about what you do in between relationships.

Depressingly, the blog is a reminder than an entire year has passed and not much has changed.

I’ve touched on this before, but I honestly don’t know what should be happening right now. As in, as much as I didn’t map out my life to be married with kids, I certainly didn’t anticipate this void. Does anyone? I’m not sure if people set out to be serial monogamists, but if you’re not interested in playing the field or dating multiple people at the same time, then what else is there other than a serious relationship with long term potential or being single?

Even if I really did believe monogamy is for the birds, personally I’m not sure I could actually handle an open relationship. Just last year, I was offering this up as a suggestion in an attempt to keep someone around and also to not necessarily have to commit to them either. It was clear we weren’t boyfriend/girlfriend material, but chemistry + friendship is enough to consider the possibility.

So back to my original issue: I feel rusty. I also feel like the more time I spend out of the game, the less interest I have in getting back in it. It was different when I was in my early 20’s, wondering if I’d ever fall in love, to be able to label things beyond “hanging out/seeing/dating” someone.

I’m not ready to start having the “I’m focusing on me” conversation, the one in which I tell you how I’m keeping busy doing this and that, going here and there, thinking about such and such, instead of trying to meet someone.

And yet, that is, by default, what I’m doing.

Not only have I gotten used to being alone, time passing also equates to my getting older. Am I not becoming what some guys fear: “Hungry”?

I’m waiting. Waiting for the right time, the right person, the right situation. I suppose I’ll go back and forth in determining how much effort I’m willing to put towards making this happen.

All the while trying to quiet the voice that suggests I consider the possibility of being alone forever.

-Carly

To all my future, former, present lovers, partners, dates, and friends, 

Please read the following concerning me being a dating blogger. 

And to all readers and my dear audience, please read, as below are some life lessons that I do believe will apply to a breadth of situations in a relationship.

Please support me in my endeavors. My endeavors as an artist and writer. Look, I get that I’m a dating blogger. I get that I host a show once a month where I read about past relationships and friends and the in-between and maybe that’s not ideal for you as my partner/lover/ex/friend/crush. And I get that. I don’t really want to hear about how great your ex’s back side looked in those J.Crew jeans and I’m sure you don’t want to hear about mine. But it’s part of my life at this point. (See: Mad Men and Megan as an actress doing love scenes.) Get on board.

I write about other stuff too! Yep. It’s just not pertinent to the subject of this blog. If you’d like to know more about it, go ahead and ask me! But it’s personal and intimate, just like this stuff I write about on here is too. 

I like sharing my stories because I believe they benefit others. To show others going through a similar situation that they are not the only ones feeling as such. Girl, it’s okay if you’re 30 and single and sleep with your two dogs and you’ve turned on and disabled your OkCupid every other day this week. 

I understand it is not private. Just as Facebook, Twitter, Foursquare, Friendster (ha, j/k), my blog is very findable. So no, I don’t expect that you won’t find it if you want to. It’s not a secret. I’m sure you have many things I could find about you online, and I probably have Googled your ass by now, but please talk to me about it. I’m always thrilled to wax on about my damned self, as you probably know by now.

Have questions? Take a minute and talk to me about them. But please don’t make assumptions, judge me solely based on this fabulous/stupid blog, and pick up the damned phone and talk to me. 

Know that I don’t write every single word of this right as it happens. I write frequently, and sometimes I’m not in a space to post it right away. These are stories and snippets from my dating life. If I said “yesterday, I went on a date,” sure, maybe it was yesterday, but it could have been written 8 years ago, okay, not 8 years ago, but maybe 8 weeks ago. I also like to reflect on where I was maybe 8 weeks ago and write about what happened. I’m a writer (see point above) and I like to edit and make things enjoyable so people on here don’t just read the stupid mundane details of an online diary. Ok, not everything is a masterpiece, but there is thought that goes into this, I promise.

I may talk about you, I may not. Don’t assume this makes you unimportant in my life. I protect my feelings and attempt to keep some level of intimacy and privacy. And the reverse, I may refer to you, but that doesn’t mean you have some earthshaking presence in my life. You may have when I wrote that particular piece, but don’t be all thinkin’ you’re famous because you got some stupid shout out. And if you’re talking/dating/making out with me to attempt to get on this blog, a) you’re pathetic and b) stop talking to me immediately. (Yep, it’s happened before… Hmm… multiple times.) Your band is not going to get famous because we went on three bad dates where you probably didn’t pay.

 And finally, thank you. Thank you to all my future, former, and present lovers/partners/friends/dates who support me in all facets of my life, dating, writing, and otherwise. I have some particular people in mind, but I’m not going to name you (see above). If I didn’t have you, this blog, reading series, my creative outlets, and so much more, would not exist. 

Thank you for listening to all of my stories, in person, on this blog, and reading. I probably owe you many hours of billable therapy. And thank you for continuing to listen and support.

So much love (except to you, d-bags exes),

<3

Melinda

P.S. This one is written in real time. 11:43 pm 4/23/13

“I don’t want to fall in love,” he says to me two hours into our phone conversation.

“You don’t want to fall in love!?” I exclaim back to him. Who the hell doesn’t want to be in love? 

“You lose power in that,” he says. 

I am flabbergasted. I have recently started talking, dating, with an ex of mine from the winter. He has a smile that can’t quit and his presence has come back out of nowhere. He tells me constantly how much he had missed me, how much he wanted me in his arms, and I start thinking about how it could work. Maybe could work this time. 

We never had this conversation back in December when we were hot and heavy. I always avoid these conversations, knowing that most men pack it up and run out if you want to talk about any sort of future for more than 7 seconds. But I know I can’t move on without bringing this up. 

And then just a few weeks later, tears are falling down my cheeks. He’s basically just broke the news to me he wants nothing that I want. Per usual. This is not new and somehow it’s been happening for five years.

I am never going to fall in love again. Never have that feeling of wanting to do anything to make that person happy. Have a partnership and a connection. I haven’t been in love since February 10, 2008 and it seems like it is never going to happen. He tells me he wishes he could hug me. Yeah, because I love when someone who has told me he doesn’t want to fall in love with me consoles me. I hang up the phone with him, disappointed and sorrowful. Another one done.

Then this morning, I wake up to this gloomy feeling thanks to Chicago’s lovely spring weather, and back to my hopes of ever finding a partnership completely crushed. 

But then it came to me, time to dust off those damned Bold Moves. It may not be October, but I constantly give advice on not letting one person rule your happiness. So time to take the reins, brush that sh*t off, and move along. If this schmuck isn’t going to get it together, someone else out there will. 

A first date scheduled for tonight bailed on me this afternoon. Since my night is suddenly free, it was time for some Bold Moves.

A guy, who I’ve been crushing on ever since he walked into my favorite bar back in the fall, and I have kept a conversation going for awhile. Things happened, we never met up. Time to hit him up:

Poor A.

I came home from our event on Tuesday night and verbally vomited about being surrounded by nothing but REJECTION, former and present.

At least it was in an email.

I knew she’d understand and not that this means I should unload on her every time I think she’ll relate, but it’s nice to know I can let go emotionally and be heard.

In it I explained, had it been ten years earlier and perhaps two or three drinks deeper in, I would have had a complete meltdown.

Why? Because I’ve spent most of my life being “other”, being “different”. Sure, I hoped that that would somehow work for me, that not looking like every other white girl in Midwest suburbia would be appealing and intriguing, not frightening and ultimately unattractive. But I was wrong.

Nothing like spending the summer before college hanging out with three beautiful blondes, getting drunk at house parties and hoping someone would be gone enough to make out with me. It did a number on me and has continued to shape my view of myself, my ego, self-esteem, how I’m constantly sizing myself up against the girl standing next to me.

It’s not as intense as it used to be. I know where I fit in the mix. I get that 10 pounds too much, 10 years too old and no apparent life goals prevent me from being a top candidate. Still, I’d like to believe (or hope?) that I still have SOMEthing going for me.

Our events are always a blast. Honestly, I’ve had a great time at every one. It’s an exciting, joyous occasion, one that feels like a celebration every time. It’s positive. It’s uplifting. How many other “good” adjectives could I possibly use to describe it?

But when you’re suddenly surrounded by multiple people who you’ve had some sort of past with or people you’ve had an unrequited crush on, it starts to feel like multiple bee stings. Trust me, I’m used to rejection. I’m getting much better at accepting that someone not liking me does not equal me being unworthy or undate-able. Still, while I may be able to recover from one slap in the face, four or five is basically a beat down.

The capper? Sitting across the table from someone whose hitting on your friend and it dawns on you that you’ve seen them on OkCupid and you’ve messaged them. More than once (over the course of, ya know, a few years). And they never responded.

Being single is already a reminder that something isn’t working, whatever that is. I don’t need an entire night of “meh, no thanks” to put things in perspective.

I hear you, Universe. Message received.

-Carly