Well, if there’s one thing I’ve been putting off like crazy this year, it’s dating. I suck at dating. It should be mentioned that I also suck at regular non-dating conversations with other humans. I’m awkward as fuck. Sometimes it works for me and comes off as cute and charming. Most times it comes off as bitchy and uncomfortable. I have what is called “Resting Bitch Face,” which makes me 95% unapproachable to most people. I’ve been trying to work on it here and there, but sometimes I forget and it doesn’t occur to me until I finally notice the pain in my jaw from subconscious teeth-clenching.
I spent most of my formative hormonal years having crushes on every boy. It was pretty bad, especially since none of them liked me back. I have never been the pretty one that guys get all stupid around and smitten with, and I really can’t complain since I have never done anything to make myself desirable to the opposite sex. I can’t really be bothered and I’m generally not the best at being a girl in the “doing my hair/dressing appealing to other people on purpose/looking like I read and pay attention to ‘helpful’ articles in Cosmo” kind of way. But again…that’s just me: The short haired, cursing, tattooed, grown up version of Daria or Jane Lane. It’s kinda tough to find guys who are into that…or so I assume? When I actually do find a guy I like, I become aloof and (adorably!?) hostile: I purposely avoid them, say next-to-nothing to them, or exercise “Active Bitch Face,” which in my mind gives me a “damn, she’s so tough like Joan Jett!” exterior but usually just pushes dudes away. Success D:
There’s also my own personal baggage of not wanting to get completely eviscerated the way I did when my last serious relationship ended…twice. Then, I dated someone last year for about two months and was just the worst to him because I didn’t want to be vulnerable. To be fair, it wasn’t the best pairing to begin with, but I flat out refused to let him know much of anything about me…except that I was clearly a horrible bitch.
And I was, because I was going through the destruction and separation of my family and still dealing with old painful relationship nonsense that I let myself get stuck in. Depression and silence were my besties and I wasn’t about to let some dude who just wanted to care about me, into my heart. It was horrible, and I felt like a schmuck because more than anything, I want to be loved and snuggled and happy with another human being, but I give off a huge “GO AWAY” vibe. Because I’m so tough -n- shit.
Again I’ll state: I suck at dating. How I have ever found myself in a relationship, I still don’t understand. Alcohol-induced moxie, probably? Then once I snag ’em, I cook for ’em, and I’m a pretty great cook so…they stick around for a bit? (partially non-sarcastic note: I do have a buncha good qualities. Somewhere.)
Shortly after the two-month fling fizzled, I met up with my friend Erin for drinks and a show. She’s one of the most hilarious and awesome people I know. SHE can talk to anyone. For hours. No doubt. But she suggested starting an online profile and blogging about the dating adventures. It seemed like a fun idea at the time, and being that I was (and still kinda am) in the habit of filling every waking hour with something to do so that I didn’t drive myself crazy thinking about things I couldn’t change, like the family sitch and the acceptance that my “one true love” wasn’t, I set it on the back burner for a while. I knew I’d get to it some day.
That day happens to be October 13th, 2013. I have created a Match.com profile. I have forked over the $36.99 or whatever for a seven-day free trial + 1 Month membership. This will either go super great and I’ll meet some nice dudes with whom I may have pretty ok chemistry, or I’m going to end up on a lot of expensive, OKCupid-esque dates with more dudes who want to mock me for being a Feminist. That guy still makes me so mad. Ugh. Such a jerk. “I thought you put that on your profile as a joke, because you said you were a comedian. Why would anyone want to be a Feminist?”
Ohhhh you silver tongued devil. I bet you get all the ladies.
Regardless of what happens, get ready to know about it…I’ll give you the skinny on my first impressions, all the awkward email exchanges, how things go when we do actually go on a date, and what the next move is. I won’t use real names or be like, creepily specific. This will be fun. Or just funny. Or incredibly sad and will solidify my current “I’m going to die alone but I am actually ok with it, you guys…where are my kitties?” – outlook on companionship.
The pistol is aimed and we are all at the ready. On your mark….get set….date me*?
*You guys I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore.
...I Just Want Your Half. 
If I were a boyyyyyyy, I’d marry you. xoxo
HECK YES! 😀