It's That Damn Milkshake

It keeps bringing these boys to the yard. I'm running out of ice cream you guys!


Actually it could have been that supermoon from this week. After all was said and done with The Trainer (who still texts me. Not sure how to feel about that), I took it upon myself to search for potential dating material online. Somehow I ended up signing up on another free dating site.

I don't know if I was just getting desperate, but it's like when you buy raffle tickets at the fair. The more you buy, the better chances you have at winning the prize. I was still having my own pity party. I couldn't understand if I was desirable or if my luck is absolutely awful. My close friend (and second mother) and I had a conversation during a lull at work about the men she knows I've had in my life, along with my recent disappointment with The Trainer. I told her that short of locking up my feelings and girl bits in a box for protection, I don't know if I could keep playing the dating game. My victories have been short lived, and the losses have been grandiose.

"Oh honey," she said with a nurturing look on her face, "I fall in love and fall hard. It's taken me many times before I finally got it right. But if you don't see what's out there, you might be missing out on something good."

Moms. They're good like that. And she's right. While I may moan and groan about how I'm getting too old for this, I am still young. This blog is called Jax Single Girl Adventures! It is inherent in my personality to take risks and enjoy life. While the act of dating is taxing, I think I could train myself to find some enjoyment in it.

So I came home, flipped open my laptop and went through the arduous task of completing yet another online profile.

Within hours, I had multiple men messaging me. One man wants to travel from Tampa to visit. He's hot, but he's got that venereal disease contributor look to him. A grandpa wanted to "take really good care of me." One guy with no picture proposed (that's a new one). And my favorite is the guy who wanted to send me pictures of his man junk because I would be so impressed. Naturally I tried to maintain a cheery disposition about the whole thing. Maybe I'm just weeding out the crazy ones early on.

So this site requires you to answer all of these questions to find out how well you'll match with other men. Their selling point is YOU ARE IN CONTROL OF YOUR MATCHES! Girl, I've been in control for awhile and let me tell you how awesomely that's worked out. Finally after messaging ten men, which is strongly suggested by this site, I received two responses that piqued my interest.

For sake of time and space, I'll give you stats on each man

Indiana Jones Age 25
- Works in insurance
- Has a Bachelor's, Masters, and is working on his PhD.
- Completed medical school
- Lived four months in Brazil just because
- Avid runner and surfer
- Training a therapy dog

Beer Man (I need to come up with a better name) Age 25
- Works for his father's company
- Native of the city for many years
- Hockey lover
- Enjoys beer and wine since he worked in liquor sales
- Plays guitar
- Movie buff
- Tennis player

As you can see, one looks better on paper than the other. Take a look at your life for a quick moment. You may have encountered these two types of people at some point: Future Husband/Wife of the Year and The Bachelor/Bachelorette Party. Indy sounds like the former, and Beer Man could be the latter. In all fairness, you can only know so much from an online profile.

And this is the weird and difficult part. I really like them both. I talked to Indy on the phone for almost two hours. We had an amazing conversation about books, his life in Brazil, and our dogs. A few problems that could potentially mean bad news for us: he's an avid interrupter, and he has a lifestyle that's more homebody that social butterfly. He indicated in his profile that he got most if it out of his system, and doesn't want to go out as much anymore, even on the weekends. He also said, he isn't sure if he's willing to meet in person. I know what you're thinking: why are you even here dude?

Look, I enjoy sitting and home with my dog and reading. However, my hobbies and interests almost require me to have late nights and after parties. I would like to share that with someone. We're both seeking long term, which is good, but the more I meet new men, the more I wonder if stay at home girlfriend is what I need right now.

Beer Man lives in my neighborhood, which is filled with all the bars and restaurants to satisfy a foodie with an appetite for fun. After reviewing his answers to some of the questions to see if we had the same ideals, I had some hesitation. Whether or not he took these survey questions is still not clear. Basically, he is a sexual being and is okay to let people know. It's not to say I'm not myself, but I'm not answering any questions about my past sex life for all to see, nor am I here to hook up.

I barely chatted with him online and texted him before he asked for my number and if I'd like to meet for a beer.

Woah, cowboy.

I was definitely taken aback. Again, looking on the bright side, I thought two things: if he sees what he likes, he's going after it. He isn't twiddling his thumbs like Indy. And what else did I have to do on a Saturday night? I'm Jax Single Girl! I'm ready for adventure!

So I wore a dress, and quickly changed into jeans and a tank, because I thought my curves should not immediately be on display to a man who publicly answered that he likes to be dominant in bed. In practice with my first date rule, I kept it close to home and had an emergency text at the ready.

I can sincerely say that I had the best first date of my life.

When an adventurer meets another adventurer, the prospect of exploration becomes a journey of wondrous possibilities.

But we'll save that for the next entry...

Boyfriend Application

It wasn't most ideal, but The Trainer texted that he is moving for sure, and didn't want to get into something knowing one of us (or both of us) would get hurt. However, I respect a man who lets me know right away. He did let me know that he felt bad about how impersonal it was, but the sooner we figure it out, the better.

He's right. And no...we both don't like it. In fact, we are still talking casually. Not much harm done.

But I was Bad Decision Kitty and decided it was worth it to check if anything was different on my profile. I may have given another guy my number. Chatted with a few other men. No matter. I'm Jax Single Girl. I have adventures. Sometimes my adventures lead to poor decisions. I'm not trying to go that way, but it's like they say: plenty of fish in the sea...just through out the line. Right?

Anyhow, I remember a post I submitted awhile ago about Matthew Grey Gublar's "Girlfriend Application." You may know him very well from Criminal Minds as Dr. Spencer Reid. Or as Joseph Gordon Levitt's friend in 500 Days of Summer, the angsty hipster love story of this generation. His character in the movie said "She's better than the girl of my dreams...she's real."

Why do I have such a hard time finding someone who believes that and will stay? The men I encounter either don't and lead me on, or the do and they leave. The cynic in me thinks I'm what's wrong: the common denominator. But I don't want to be the cynic. I want to be the ardent believer that love can happen to anyone. If it can happen to Honey Boo Boo's mom, it could happen to me.

So here it is. This is my boyfriend application. I am accepting them right now so feel free to pay it forward.

(Source: Sedonafilmschool.com)

Wanted: A companion

Must love dogs. Other four legged animals are acceptable. No spiders please.

Body type is negotiable, but please be presentable with caring eyes and open arms

Laughter must be part of your genetic make-up, but not always at my expense

Hugs are important. I appreciate when they come from a genuine place

Friendship is a must. Put the friend in boyfriend and we're off to a great start

While I prefer tea, I am willing to drink coffee as long as we can have great conversations

Though I am an eternal optimist, I have my bad days. Cheer me on, but challenge my neurosis

I like holding hands. Please hold them as if to protect me from scary monsters under the bed

Don't be offended by beer burps. I take pride in my own brand

Piercings and tattoos are not taboo. You are a canvas as I am as well.

Pessimists, Debbie Downers, and the lazy need not apply

If you can come up with more creative shapes for clouds, you have already won me over

Kindness is a must. There is always someone who has it worse than you or me

Please have some sense of culture. I like to talk about books, music, and movies. Yes, The Hangover counts as culture

Halloween is my favorite holiday. Let's dress up and eat all the candy

What I mean to say is cuddle me, remember tacos are better than burritos, and bring out the best in me as I will for you

I look forward to the response.

Reality

In my utter moments of optimism with The Trainer, I have failed to mention one thing:

Much like OGM, he is a nomad. His job is contractual, forcing him to move around the country.

He has a meeting tomorrow discuss his time here.

While I am an eternal optimist, he has the sunny outlook of an Eeyore. Even when we talk I have to remind him of ways it could constantly be worse. I told him not to worry because why worry about what you don't know.

Sound advice I rarely take myself.

Being the usual sunny me, I forced the "I hope it goes well" line. Translation: I hope you stay. I was forward enough to ask "if you had your way, what would happen?"

I would change a few things, but I want to stay here. I've had one year contracts and have never wanted to stay with them.

...Promising. And vague. The smitten kitten in me hopes that I'm part of why he would like to stay in one place longer than a year.

I'm melting. I don't know if I should be happy or devastated. I never want to get in the way of upward mobility...but I am ready to settle.

I said it: I am ready to settle.

I'm not willing to give up the strongest parts of me. I'm not ready to put my feet up in stirrups and pop out ankle biters. That's not what I mean by settle. I mean...I'm ready to find the following:

- A hand willing to fit perfectly into my own
- A challenger who cheers me on in my hardest days
- A tender set of moments where I know that he's with me too
- The reassurance that we are in it together

There's a time in a single girl's life where she's done clicking dating profiles, chatting up/avoiding strangers in bars, waiting to see if her married friends have unmarried guy friends. I never said I wanted something immediate.

I think the word I'm looking for is stability. I have enough chaos in my life; other than my dog, who's going to take a moment to enjoy this chaos with me?

We still (supposedly) have a date on Friday. I can hear it in the voices of my friends. I know they don't want me to get hurt. They avoid this conversation with me because they know I've gone through enough trouble with guys and they're bracing for impact.

But...what is love (and the like) without the risk?

We spend so much time wasting away, worrying about where we'll be, who'll be there, and if it is all just and right. As for myself, I've spent too much time not worrying and giving all I have and getting little to nothing in return. It's such a fine line to walk.

Is it wrong to close my eyes, inhale a staggered breath, release the worry, and to just let my vulnerabilities go? There's no doubt; I have a lot to offer, which is why dating is so frustrating for me. The moment it seems that someone out there can be that hand, can challenge and cheer, will hold me and show me he is there, it all falls like sand through the fingertips. And sometimes I wonder if it's because, in many ways, I hold on too tight.

I bet this is how Freddie Mercury felt when he asked the desperate question: Can anybody find me somebody to love?


If you want me to be 100% truthful about it all, I want something special to happen between me and The Trainer. I cannot deny what my heart is feeling lately. This is the slowest I've ever taken anything in the dating world. The fact that I'm more excited about a first kiss is so new to me. By now, as in my past has shown, my toothbrush would be on his bathroom sink.

For now I am Amelie, once again melting into a puddle of longing and uncertainty. I could pray to things I believe and I don't believe, cross my fingers, eyes, and toes, but it won't change anything that happens tomorrow.

It was a Walk in the Park...No, Really

I appreciate your patience, my dear readers. I always have a lot to say, and I know you've been waiting for the "First Date" story with The Trainer.

Let me map out that day for you. I had plenty of activity to keep my mind sane up until we were to meet that afternoon. It was Memorial Day, so while most people were sleeping in, nursing a hangover, or barbequing, I was lacing up my shoes to run a 5K. After abusing my body with my best race time (43:00. I'm slow but consistent), I also met my friend to join her Zumba class.

Here was how I justified all this: Let me get out my nervous energy out now, and have less to throw up out of anxiety later. I was treating my first date nervousness like a nuclear threat. I had an emergency text ready for my friends in case it went south, I made sure the date was close to home, and I made sure if anything did happen, I had witnesses.

It's also worth noting that is the first time in a while that I've been nervous for a date. I've been on bad first date after bad first date. I wasn't nervous for them. I think in retrospect, I treated them as rights of passage. Everyone should go through at least one bad first date just so it builds character.

So after soaking my cardio-weary body in a hot shower, I made genuine efforts to look and smell like a girl again. I remember my first date with OGM. I didn't know what I was going to wear and had a mini panic attack...or two. This time around, I knew what I was going to wear. That was the easy part. The hardest part was staying in the park long enough to wait for him and not feel the need to bolt.

So I sat there, near a fountain, hair somewhat done, sundress, and flip flops on, feeling the Florida heat cut evenly with little breeze. Then it hit me.

He's going to be here in five minutes.

It's hotter than a hooker in church.

We agreed to meet at a park.

I put in at least 5 miles today.

Suck it up, cupcake. You have that text ready to go.

I clutched my purse close, shoulders raised high. I felt his presence. Even if I had to, I wouldn't be able to send out the text on time. Slowly I stood from the fountain where I sat, thinking don't trip, don't trip, don't trip. With nervous smiles, we said hello, and he gave me a hug.

Truth be told, that was fairly unexpected. Welcome, but unexpected.

But then he wouldn't look at me. He was talking to me, but not looking at me. Maybe he was nervous...

After we started to loop the park, I thought I'd better give him a tour of the area. And if I kept walking, I could concentrate more on that than throwing up granola chunks. We started reciting our past conversations about movies, tv, music, anything we could muster.

Then the heat. Steam rising from concrete, bake-cookies-on-your-dashboard heat. Luckily there was an antique store with A/C. I figured it would make for an interesting study. What would he find here that he would talk about, and would it really make me reach for my phone.

As it turns out, we started talking a little more, finding pregnant pauses less and less. We started to venture around after cooling off, and found ourselves making our way into downtown. Side-by-side, not missing a beat in anything we talked about. It was only then that I was less concerned about where my phone was and more concerned about the heat. Luckily I checked later. My make-up held up. I was sweating enough to drown a village. I'm glad that wasn't an issue.

We started talking about our races. His eyebrow raised when I told him what I had done earlier that day. He started to feel bad about walking everywhere. What was another five miles, right?

Naturally all that activity made us hungry, so we ended up at one of the few places open on Memorial Day. It also happened to be where CSB and I went often. Luckily that didn't leave a bad stain. I still knew most of the servers there.

After The Trainer laughed at the fact that they were out of pretty much everything I usually get, I playfully slapped his arm. Oh, that's an arm. FOCUS! Then he said something that made me start liking him even more:

I think it's great. You have to think outside of the box.

Interesting. I have a challenge now. He's challenging me. It's a small way to do it, but nonetheless, he is giving me banter.

At any rate, we were still going on about everything under the sun. I caught one of the servers I knew peering over the bar taps, curiously staring at us. How many ways can you visually send I'm-on-an-awesome-date signals without being obvious? I turned around from our booth at the window and noticed the sun was gone. Woah....what time was it?

Six hours. Six hours later we were still there. I noticed my phone dinging. It turns out my best friend sent me rapid fire texts throughout the day.

Afternoon: Hope it goes well!

Early evening: Still going?

Late night: OMIGOD PLEASE TELL ME YOU'RE STILL ALIVE!

I had to sneak a text back to her. She was pleased to know firstly that some crazed lunatic didn't kidnap me. And secondly, she was glad it was still going.

We both remembered we had dogs to tend to. So he took me back to my car at the park, and we sat under a lamp post. He asked if I was up for a second date. I told him I was free that week and thanked him for a wonderful time. Another hug and we went into our separate cars.

I was perfectly content at that very moment. My windows down, I turned on the radio, and sang along. He wanted to see me again...just as I wanted to see him too. These are the simple things people enjoy and relish. And I finally had my turn. My legs were weary, and my eyes were heavy.

My heart was pulsing like fireflies in the park.

The Hesistation of Using Training Wheels

You're wondering when I was going to bring up The Trainer. I call him that for a couple of reasons. The most obvious one is that he is, in fact, an athletic trainer. Or, if you know me personally, you would call him an upgrade.

After messaging other guys on a dating website, I came across his profile. The first thing I noticed was his adorable friend: a sleepy puppy, cuddling against his master. The second thing I noticed was his bright eyes.

Have you ever had one of those moments where you are watching a death-defying act and you stutter a gasp? That's how it felt. I swallowed that gasp and opened up a message to compliment him on his eyes, along with his snoozing companion. This athletic and handsome guy couldn't possibly message me back. I was incredibly wrong. It was immediate. He accepted the compliment and we got to talking. What happened next surprised me: the conversations seemed natural.

I know, I know. How is that surprising? The fact that someone still wanted to talk to me. While it's never right to put one's self down, I couldn't get past how natural talking to him was. Some people call that chemistry.

Saturday night light chatting turned into Sunday morning texting. All day. It definitely helps that we had a lot in common, so conversation didn't get stale.

Naturally I was excited about the whole matter. Later I met with a friend of mine for dinner and mentioned him and how I felt like I was on training wheels for dating again. With reassuring eyes, she said that no matter what happens, I at least don't have to worry about expectations.

Come again?

When she explained it, it all made sense. Other than what I had read of him online, I didn't have other people's opinions about him, whether they were good or bad. If anyone has been set up by a friend, he or she knows that there is an image of this strange, new person you're about to meet. If it doesn't meet your expectations, you're let down and it's a bust. However, if it goes well (as it sometimes does) not all is lost. But it made me wonder.

What was I expecting out of this?

After what happened with CSB, I now know that I need in a partner, and that I have standards I'm ready to upkeep. The only expectation I had was to not waste my time on something less than deserving.

After almost three weeks of talking back and forth we were set to meet. Sadly, we hit a speedbump and life happened to him, so we had to call a rain check. What made this better was the words he said: I still definitely want to meet you.

Be still my mending heart.

That was nice to hear. And his curiosity about me made me curious too. I knew I wanted to meet him, but I was taken aback at how genuine that statement felt. It wasn't forced. None of this has been forced.

Is that what's supposed to happen?

I feel as though I'm a kid, in a neighborhood street, learning how to ride a bike again. Internally I'm begging to have the training wheels removed, but on the outside, I look as though I still need them.

This whole process has been a lesson in starting over and doing it the right way for myself. Not the easy way, not the apathetic way, not the "we'll-figure-it-out-later" way.

So far, he is a good trainer.

I could gush and go on about what we've talked about: books, our jobs, our dogs, our work, but that's not what makes it compelling. What does is that epiphany that this guy is good for me. And he probably doesn't even realize how important that is to me.

This is why I was eager to meet him, to study him, to understand what it is about him that makes me feel great. We've gone out on two dates and the scary part is admitting how much I want this to happen...and how I am willing to wait for it to get better, even if this feeling doesn't end with him.

So I'll slowly prop myself on the seat, carefully put one foot on the pedal, and then the other. With my head facing forward, head held high, I start to move with the training wheels, embracing how they are helping me take the next step without any fear.

Online Dating Profiles: Interviewing for your Company

If you were to ask me what the most painful part of starting the online dating process was, I'd have to say completing the damn profile.

Let's go back to grade school for a minute. Your teacher gives you an assignment in which you must write an essay about yourself. No problem, right? But you have to complete it in one page, include varied interests, and validate why they matter. One page?

Welcome to creating an online dating profile!

I'm going to spare the details of what I put in mine. Instead, I will embarrass faceless users who I've screened online. We have:

- The "gives you why he's always single" guy
- The "I'm your Romeo" guy
- The "I will treat you right, if you know what I mean" guy
- The "here's my entire life story" guy

In my humble opinion, who you are is something I'm going to find out should I decide to go on a date with you. Granted, it's the biggest part of the profile. This takes me back to college where you were learning how to write entry-level resumes. Interviewers only need to read your one-line objective to know whether or not to trust you saying the company name. On this site I'm using (sparingly now, but that's another entry), the smallest box is the one that asks "What Would you do on the First Date?"

You guys, we screw this up royally. While you can slap on a nice suit and tie, practice interview etiquette, and list your numerous achievements all you want, you can ultimately blow it when your interviewer asks "What can you do for the company?"

I'd be vacationing in Ibiza if I had a dollar for each answer that was "dinner and a movie." Don't misunderstand me here; a girl's gotta eat, and a free meal is a free meal. But there is a reason women like me go on these sites: for something new. Listen MrReelNiceGuy69: try harder. Not only that, but the reason I'm meeting you is to get to know you. I'm going out of my comfort zone to see who is out there. I can't possibly get to know you while watching a serious plot unfold on the big screen. I can casually observe your popcorn etiquette, and judge whether or not you have fresh hands that want to play. But why blow a date like that? (Ed. note: I need more interesting things to blog. Don't completely ruin it for me).

I've seen the other end of the spectrum too. "Dinner at my place." What that really tells me is that you want me to search every government database for your first and last name to see if I'm safe in your company. I do a background check of sorts before each date. You better believe that the suggestion of dinner at your place gets you checked out quicker! I am not dessert! Cynical? I like to call it rightfully defensive.

So after a couple of weeks of viewing profile after uninteresting or psychologically unsound profile, I would find a gem every now and again. No sarcasm, I really did start some conversations with men who seemed worth a second interview. Some would decline, which is more than fine. I made it clear my time is valuable. Wouldn't yours if you were interviewing for a high-ranking company? Others, well, they blew it with a few choice words. FYI if I have any male readers: Saying "Hey Sexy" the next day after our initial conversation is creepy. Don't do it.

But I started talking to someone on a quiet, unassuming Sunday morning. Then in the afternoon. Then at night, he wanted my number, which I was fine with. He seemed worth a second interview. I was quite pleased with the result, and decided he would be a great fit.

Welcome aboard.

Where oh where to begin?!

Dating happens.

Falling in love happens.

Falling out of love happens.

Breaking up, unfortunately, happens.

FINDING OUT VIA TEXT SHOULD NOT HAPPEN!

I could write all day and preach about the importance of communication, and the importance of being a doting partner and a willful lover. But really, it would do no good. That and while he did fail me, I too failed myself. My friends told me I let too much go, and didn't stand up for what I wanted.

Human connection in any form is what I wanted. Someone to talk to everyday is also what I wanted. A boy to take care of me late at night (open to interpretation, by the way) is what I wanted most times. And guess what? That's what I got.

I didn't get what I needed. The hardest lesson (and the most humbling) is realizing that I was in this alone. He started to stray and I kept my blind optimism, as I usually do. He didn't take away from me; I took away from myself.

More than anything after The Great Text Dump of 2013 (we'll get to that soon, don't you worry), I sulked in my room, caked in tears, mad at myself for letting this happen to me. I should have seen the signs: less talking/texting, less staying over, less kisses, and more awkward hugs. Maybe he was just busy and stressed with school, I thought. Clearly I was wrong.

I felt like
Carrie in Sex and The City getting dumped with a Post-It Note. I don't recall, but maybe her message was much nicer than mine.

"Sorry if I treated you like a rebound"

Wait...what? Clearly, that was news to me.

I sat at the bar that cool Wednesday night, crying shamefully with two of my friends. He was right, I thought. I was only a rebound.

So I did what any girl does in these situations: I got my hair done, threw myself into projects, and posted insanely sad stuff online. Hell, I even adopted a dog. She saved me from continuing to feel so worthless.

However, there is magic in the struggle for clarity. Because of this, I finally understood that it was okay. And if it isn't okay, it would be. My support system reminded me of the usual things people say in this situation: it's his loss, you're beautiful, he's awful, you're amazing, etc.

More than that though, I had to learn to love myself again and be happy on my own. That's where the dog comes in. That's where throwing myself into running happened. I accomplish way more on my own. I am still learning what I need. But the fact of the matter is, his horrible text taught me that it is okay to be sad, angry, and heartbroken because the end result is that it forces me to deal with my dating failures as a stronger individual.

Suffice it to say, I don't feel worthless currently. In fact, I feel empowered. Not being with CSB helped me understand that it's time now for me to focus on what it is I need out of life, which isn't just love or something we try to make feel like love. It's enlightening to think of all the things I've done myself without someone by my side.

I know you're probably wondering what it is I discovered about what I need. Well...

I need a partner.

Someone who wants to take care of me as much as I can take care of him.

Independence.

Goals.

A good listener.

A cheerleader.

While these discoveries sound so obvious, I must say it was humbling to finally embrace them. I'm not getting old by any means, but I am at the point in my life where I am not settling for someone  less than deserving of changing my last name. All of those needs? I deserve them.

So I took a break, played with fire, cuddled a mutt, read some books, signed up for some races, and in the interim, decided to check out online dating again. After two weeks of courageously messaging potential suitors, and dodging guys with names like YourRealPrince and MrGoodbar, I talked to someone who seemed worth my time.

Bright blue eyes, a subtle smile, and an adorable dog caught my attention. His ambition, our conversations, and his curiosity about me is what held it.

Let's call him...The Trainer.