"At This Rate You Can Eat Free Dinner All Week!"

My little, mousey-voiced friend keeps asking about my dating adventures, and she came up with that little gem.

She's right. I very well could!

(I'm like Mary Anne: unsure of myself, cries at ASPCA commercials, and what are boys?)

There are many things to consider. Men on both dating sites are messaging me daily. And the current men in this journey are all in some shape or fashion chasing me. Me? Why? I'm smarmy book nerd by day, and seductive fire performer at night. I've yet to find the right kind of man to handle those extremes. And yet they see something worthy in me.

For starters, The Trainer isn't quite sure if he's really going to move. He has been blowing up my phone for the last few days. I don't want to simply say I've moved on, but after what happened with OGM, I don't want to go on a few more dates with him and get too invested if he does end up moving. That and he probably couldn't handle my rebellious streak. I only say this because his conversations lately seem to beat around the bush:

"Hey you. What are you up to?"

Me: "Nothing much. How are you?"

"Good. Good. I'm watching a movie marathon and am looking forward to a long weekend. I have a lot of time for once."

Me: "Oh. Well good!"

"Yeah" 

Really? Man up if you want to go on another date. Would I agree to it? Probably not, but I simply can't be bothered by men whose pair is smaller than mine. He may be intimidated by me. And that's another thing I won't be able to accept with my future partner, let alone a guy I'm simply dating.

I also stopped calling Indy. He didn't bore me, but I don't need a wet blanket sopping up the adventure. He keeps me on the phone for two hours and one hour of it is blatant interruption. That got way old rather quickly. Very nice guy, and gave me some super kind and sincere compliments. I really did enjoy our conversations (the times I got a word in), but I don't have time to sit around being the girl of someone's dreams. My profiles make it clear: join me in this journey, not let's meet, settle, and forever be intertwined in matters of the heart.

Things with The Adventurer have been quiet since we last talked. I'm pretty sure it's a number of reasons, main reason being that insane 2nd date coitus probably wasn't the wisest idea. I invited him to a show but he said he had family in town. Whether or not that's true, it doesn't really bother me. Trust me, I'm surprised about that part too. I'm pretty sure he wants to date around and see what else is out there. He could be like me in that regard. It's become this awkward line dance where you're switching partners; sometimes you do-si-do and your partner has two left feet, but your next partner matches your rhythm perfectly.

Now it seems another guy has joined my journey.

Remember how I mentioned this particular dating site strongly encourages its users to talk to ten people when they initially sign up? Well, The Dragon was one of the ten. I took a look at his photo and thought that I had a snowball's chance in hell. He's gorgeous. Looking at my journey, I seem to be opting for the dark hair, blue eye types. Like mischief and innocence, I think it's a wonderful combination. I truly need to start giving myself a little more credit.

So I sent him a message telling him that I thought that it was awesome that he rode his Harley on The Tail of The Dragon (thank you jerk ex for teaching me a thing or two about motorcycles) and that I had an inexplicable fear of rollercoasters myself.

It took him a few days, but he messaged me asking to chat. Well...my schedule is chaotic at best. Between eating free dinners this week, shows, work, and me time, I just don't check my messages on either dating site very often. Besides, I enjoy the chase! I told him I'd talk to him soon, which he didn't seem thrilled with. Guys (and ladies), "K" is never an appropriate response when you're texting, emailing, or instant messaging. It's the passive aggressive Asian mother of all responses.

Last night I was prepping for my set when I got a notification from him asking if it was my fire group that was on another side of town. I told him no, but we were at a different venue. He messaged back saying that we should chat soon in the off chance he may not be single very long...winky face.

...oh really? Who you tellin'?

So I laughed (or tried to laugh via instant message. I don't think he could tell) and gave him my number. He texted me right away! The yellow energy drink flowing through my veins encouraged me to send him a pic of me in costume: a cute little sailor. He enjoyed it. Looking back I don't know why I did that. Possibly to see if he really did find me attractive. Hell, when you're scared putting yourself out there sometimes, how do you even know? He said he was working that night and would be up late. I checked the clock a little later. It was after midnight. What kind of legitimate work does a man do after midnight?

Well, let's go over some Dragon Stats:

- Male 29
- Has adopted lesbian sister
- Works in law enforcement (hellloooo man in uniform!)
- Going to law school after finishing his senior year at the local state university

Okay, I also did extra recon. After doing the ol' Google search, I discovered that he and I have some friends in common. It's strange because they're people who I've done shows with, or people I haven't spoken to in awhile. I've been asking around to see if they could tell me anything about them.

Swoon. He looks good on paper. We'll see if this comes to fruition. In the meantime I have come to a very important realization:

If I don't take it seriously, dating isn't a horrible experience.

One would think that with the many ways I approach my life that I would be quick to understand that right away. Between releasing my initial heartbreak with The Trainer, realizing that Indy may not be able to handle another chaotic adventure, and The Adventurer exploring his uncharted domain, I really am liberated from the fears and uncertainty that comes with dating.

There are reasons people say "it's just a date." There is no lease or fine print on a contract. It's getting to know someone and having a good time for a few hours. If it happens to expand beyond that, awesome. If not, there are other suitors ready and waiting, maybe not immediately, but in due time. Lining up these four men, I realize that I'm to be sought after. I am awesome and the right men will see that. There is no question. I often confide in my burlesque mama. We chat about our love lives and bond over stories of love and heartbreak. One day, she told me to never settle.

I haven't yet, and believe me, it's probably the best dating advice I've ever received.

"Do You Want to go on an Adventure?"

Quivering with anticipation (or hormones), I woke up the other morning, bleary-eyed but excited about my date with The Adventurer (TA) that night.

I remembered I could be an attractive girl, and put on a grey dress that hugged my curves. It had 3/4-sleeves, and hit above my knees. As always, I paired that dress with black boots with a blue zipper in the back of them. This is my uniform: a dress always paired with boots. This was also what I avoided on my first date with TA. In a way I'm glad because he had those damn hungry eyes. He could wait for that, I thought. So I broke the norm, and put on some make-up and did my hair before walking out to greet the day.

As I got into work, my boss sensed something different. Usually I'm wearing work pants, a blouse (fine, a flannel shirt), and boots. "What's going on? Look at you! You look great!" he exclaimed, with that mint julep Southern drawl.

"...I have a date tonight."

"Oh? With The Trainer?!"

"No...another guy"

Eyebrows raised he said allright then, and stopped prying. Before anyone blows any whistles out there, my boss is awesome; the right mix of fatherly figure, motivator, and jokester. This conversation could have happened with anyone.

Anyway...

I continued to slave at my desk, wandered to different departments, not hearing a word about where I was going tonight. The damsel in me figured he's the man who asked me out in the first place. I'll let him make the plans. It's strange to say it since I do take pride in holding my own and taking care of myself, which brings me to Queen B and her girls:

Finally the text I was waiting for all day: he remembered (good job) my favorite restaurant and he wanted to go because he had never tried it. I said I'd meet him there.

Later on, I walked towards this place that with the best of intentions, but apprehensive about my needs. Not those needs but...you know? NEEDS.

By no stretch of the imagination am I a prude, but I'm definitely not a girl who hits it and quits. But it had been awhile. I carried a hip-rolling strut with my stride. Maybe, if it did happen, it would be okay....

Once I opened the door to the restaurant, I was greeted with a smile and those eyes. They wandered up my figure happily before our hostess led us to the table.

This restaurant is my favorite for many reasons: the large windows made for people watching, the live music (which happened to be going on that night), and of course the food. We barely browsed the menu before he decided to surprise me again. I told him I usually get The Zen of Zin wine. I figured he knew of it from his past job as a liquor salesman.

"Want to just get a bottle?"

A bottle? Most guys just buy you a singular drink with dinner, right? Then again, I don't know much about going out on dates. Since he was in, I was in. The scenery was completely forgettable for me. What sticks out for me is just how much we talked and laughed...the way his elbows rested on the table, hands clasped just gazing at me with those blue eyes. The way I could never figure out if I should part my hair one way or the other, but settling on twirling and behind my ears instead. By the time I came out of my environmental euphoria, there was a bottle of wine down, half the patrons paid out, and the acoustic stylings of overdone covers muted.

"Do you want to go on an adventure tonight?"

The Zen was speaking, and I was its mouthpiece. Eyebrows raised, he stammered to get out an answer. I suggested there's a place we can sing karaoke, and we can get free shots each time we sing.

Like a politician answering the hard-hitting questions, he said it's a go. We still had time before the club opened its doors, so we walked up to the bar for a beer.

Damn. Here we go again. I reached into the crevices of my college-aged mind: is it liquor before beer you're in the clear? I've mixed before...and I walked here. I'm perfectly fine. The Zen said so.

I ordered first while he browsed the beer menu. When he asked what I ordered, he said he was getting the same thing. It's like that moment when you find out you have something it common. It's that warm coating that surrounds your childlike heart before it rushes to your face, forcing an uncontrollable smile. That is how everything has felt with him. It was easy for me to be, well, me: fire-spinning, sailor-mouth, smartass-yet-demure me.

There's a catch here too, by the way.

My friends are obviously my army. When I have a date with a new, I tell them where I am. Florida prides itself on hurricane preparedness. This is no different. I told my friends that I was bringing him to karaoke, and thought he'd like them and would fit into our circle.

Recall that warm coating around the heart? The same feeling applies to knowing, really knowing, that I could bring him around my friends, and it wouldn't be weird. It wouldn't be him checking his phone while our crew gets into inside jokes. It wouldn't be constant apologies for their behavior. Jax Single Girl has discovered another need: If you wanna be lover, you gotta get with my friends. 

We made our way outside and he offered to drive. That and I would be a good co-pilot since he had never been to this place before. As I started to give him directions at the red light, he reached for my hand. TA just goes for it. And he gazed at me, starry-eyed and happy to go on an adventure.

This club is where the theater kids go to let loose and sing their happy hearts out. It's also where the BDSM set go for a good gothic time, and where my fire troupe often performs. I greeted the bartender by first name, which surprised TA. Yes, cupcake...I apparently know all the bartenders in town. So we ordered our first round, and I started to flip through the song lists.

"By the way, you have to sing since I brought you here."

This time the beer decided to be my ventriloquist. He started to laugh and agreed. I chose a song and walked it up to the DJ, leaving TA unattended. It bothered him that I wouldn't tell him what song I chose, in a fun way of course. And he remembered that I usually sing No Doubt. He rattled off a few songs, but he couldn't get what I chose right. It seemed to fit my mood, so I chose Bathwater.

A couple of songs before I got onto the stage, my comedian friend entered the bar. Their conversations flowed naturally, which made me very happy. Everything was just perfect. TA left for a moment, and my friend looked over his shoulder to make sure he wasn't within earshot.

"He's dreamy!"

Thanks, pal. I think so. I should also point out this is Glitterbeard's brother. He's also one of two of my amazing army that showed up. My blue-haired siren joined us later, enjoying the show with us.

So I sang to my heart's content, and he loved what he heard from me. His set followed mine, and apparently we were going the distance. I wasn't sure if I could handle anymore innuendo that night, which is saying a lot considering the company I keep. My bartender had already poured his free shot, and I was courteous to wait till he was done with his set before I took my own. With a sigh of relief that he was done singing, I congratulated him on his performance (...speaking of innuendo), and he cheered to a night of adventurous fun. There's that warm coating on my heart again...

But we were stuck together by hands touching, my knees against his, and his other arm around my shoulder, letting it graze my back from time to time.

The night was approaching early morning, so we decided to pay up and leave after my second song. TA said he didn't remember starting a tab. My independent streak was showing, and I told him I left my card at the bar. The next thing I know, TA is walking up there, handing me back my card, and paying for our tab. This guy...I must remember to thank him again.

We made our way back to my place, and he parked in my driveway. I thanked him for another awesome night. With willing eyes and smiles on our faces, we met with a kiss. Wow, he's a good kisser. We're still kissing...did the seat just lean back?

Needless to say, he was allowed inside my house that night. A lady should never say too much, but I will say that he was an attentive lover. It was intense. Clearly, we were both thinking about this since we first met. I guess that's part of the explanation for chemistry, and the way it works with two people.

After all was said and done, he told me he couldn't believe he met me. We kissed good night and I sent him home.

I can't believe I almost didn't give you a chance. I internally apologized for ever referring to him as Beer Man.

I had to hide my grin the next day. It was permanently tattooed on my face. One lost wallet, another (pious) visit to my home, and another kiss later, he is coming to my next fire show.

I like this adventure. I like it a lot. Yes, it's obvious I engage in risky behavior, but matters of the heart are risky too.

Letting the warmth fill the holes in my heart, and harden it sounds like a greater risk than bringing a guy on the second date home. Like every adventure I've had, it was totally worth it.

More than just a conquest, he is definitely worth it. 

Cheers to an Awesome Night

One thing that I'm learning in this new adventure: Talking to two men at the same time is painfully difficult. It's a fun challenge, but I have to treat this like I'm studying for a final. For the last couple of days, I checked Indy and Beer Man's profiles, reviewed, and made sure to commit certain parts of their profiles to memory so I don't goof up in any of our conversations.

Because how embarrassing would it be to bring up Beer Man's time in Brazil? Oh that's not right...my bad. And honestly it feels like cheating. I do not like cheaters. In many ways I'm an extremely non-judgmental person. But once I discover someone is a cheater, it leaves a certain distaste in my mouth. Yes, I understand that people change, but it's like a stain on their foreheads sometimes.

All of that aside, I have to go with the assumption in these men's profiles that they are indeed single and unattached. Can we get a Single Ladies reference in here?

That's better.

Alas, before my date with Beer Man the other night, I was getting dolled up after a long conversation with Indy. I was pretty over the moon about talking to him, but had minimal expectations for Beer Man. Obviously, I gave him a horrible nickname.

My survival instincts were on high alert. I let my friends know where I was. My emergency text was at the ready. I stayed close to home. I kept my appearance realistic and low on sex appeal. I knew how to hold my keys intertwined in my fingers in case I needed to be defensive.

Jax Single Girl was more prepared than an Eagle Scout.

So I walked out of my door late at night, and headed toward the bar that we were supposed to meet. This is one dating rule I broke. I understand it's pretty normal to meet at a bar on the first date. However, I like to keep my mind alert and ready when meeting someone new. After texting him what I was wearing I met eyes with him, smiled, and said hello as we walked into the bar.

This is the kind of bar the cool kids talk about. And by cool kids, I mean hipsters. Black-rimmed glasses, flannel, men-in-girl-pant hipsters. There is a bathtub in the bar when you first walk in, and most drinks are served in mason jars, a subtle ironic failure and jab against the redneck heart of Jacksonville.

He looked better than his pictures. Don't get me wrong here. Looks aren't everything, but when you're dating someone based on an online profile, they better be presentable. Beer Man is a tall brunette with a baby face.

Somehow the conversation came easily. I know I've said that about other dates, but it was different this time. I jumped right in as if I was talking to my best of friends. When you are with your true friends, you don't hold back who you are. There is no surface to scratch. I'm pretty positive I said one or two four-letter words in my first few sentences to Beer Man. Luckily he didn't mind.

It also turned out that one of my best friends from high school happened to be there with her husband. I ran up to her right after we ordered our drinks, and gave her a hug. She awkwardly pulled back and with her inquisitive face started to ask if I was on a date. Through clenched teeth and a forced smile I told her that this was a first date and that we had just walked in. She locked her eyes to mine as if to say "Good luck and vaya con dios." She later told me that I looked happy, which was good to know.

I don't know if it was because I wanted to force the time to go faster in case this was a bust, or if I had a brief moment of bravado, but I started to ask the standard first date questions about himself one right after the other: where do you work, do you like it, where did you go to school, do you like this bar, etc.

I think I'll blame the supermoon for the fastidious speed dating interview I gave him...

But he ran with it, and it seemed to work well. As we were keeping the conversation flowing, we noticed the bar patrons next to us laughing as the sound of metal was dinging against the bar shelves. There is a ring toss game where you take rings of mason jars, throw them at the shelves, and if you get a ring around the bottle of liquor, you get a free shot of it.

Here's how I knew he was an adventurer much like me. (Ed. Note: change his nickname from Beer Man to The Adventurer...not to be confused with Indy).  With a charming, mischievous smile, he proclaimed that we should do it. Before I could complain about my short stature and T-Rex arms, he was already asking the bartender for the rings. We both failed miserably, but were laughing the entire time. After the round of Redneck Ring Toss, we started to talk about if we'd be happy with the shots we could have won.

I explained I was a whiskey girl, and told him about Fireball: a cinnamon cup of goodness. He explained that he used to be a liquor salesman and tried that, and is also a fan of red wine. That was one of many things we had in common, I would find out. I told him that my drink of choice lately was a Fireball shot dropped in a glass of cider. His eyes got big and another tight-lipped smile grew on his face.

"The night is young. I don't have anything to do and I imagine you don't either. Let's go to your bar and try some Fireball with cider there."

Is this what it's like to date me?

CSB was an adventurer too, but I was just along for the ride. There was a sense of confidence with The Adventurer that he could be trusted with my sense of risk and abandonment...at least for that night. Like a willing Bonnie to his Clyde, I said it sounded like a good idea. His charisma and machismo weren't offensive. It truly came off as genuine confidence.

So we walked the busy streets a few blocks down to "my bar." That's how quickly conversation flowed. I told him that my usual bar is a hole-in-the-wall, dank, dirty, smoke-filled space. He seemed okay with that. I also had a sense of guilt because I wondered if it was bad that I "had" a bar. I didn't want to come off as a daily drunk, but at the same time I remembered what I told myself earlier: I'm here for fun. This is just a date.

I took him to the back entrance, which I playfully chimed was where the regulars go. We walked up to the bar, and I was greeted with my first name, followed by one of the bartenders yelling, with her emphysema-riddled voice "YA BACK AGAIN, HUH?!" I may or may not have been there twice earlier that week. I stuttered a laugh and sheepishly met eyes with The Adventurer. This was the first of many times this night where he had hungry eyes. Yes, Patrick Swayze-type, jump-in-my-arms-in-the-lake-Baby, Dirty Dancing hungry eyes. He likes this about me. And guilt again. I don't want to be that girl who he thinks he can always take to the bar, get drunk, and get lucky. In his defense, he was a total gentleman that night.

After explaining the Fireball concoction to another bartender, I took out my card to offer to pay. The Adventurer stopped me and said he'll get it. Promising, I thought. So I handed him his glass and asked if we should raise them for anything.

"Here's to an already awesome night!"

He was right. We locked eyes with sincere ear-to-ear grins.. I probably could have broken that glass out of sheer excitement. I really was having a blast.

We sat at a high-top, chatting about movies we liked and the music from the jukebox. We really had a lot in common. He then recalled in a message I sent that day that I loved this bar because of Big Buck Hunt. There is nothing more satisfying than releasing rage after a day of dealing with absolute nonsense and stress, and shooting Bambi's dad...and his little critter friends too. He got up, got some cash, and put money in the machine. It's very important that I emphasize that none of this was asked. He just did it. He left me with no choice but to completely own him at this game.

To me this was a bit of a test: I get mouthy and angry if I don't get all three bucks each game. Even as I was swearing and getting jumpy with this neon-orange rifle, he was amused and enjoying it. That was so telling because I kept thinking I was out with my closest friends. I wasn't hiding. I wasn't trying to be this demure vision on an online profile. I wasn't forcing intelligent conversation about philosophy and reason.

I was having a good time being myself around someone who was pretty damn fine with it. Bless it.

After that round, he asked if I wanted another drink. Playing it safe, I said a beer was fine. Again, I didn't want to get too drunk and lose all inhibition. He came back, and proceeded to put money in the bowling video game. I'm horrible at bowling in real life, so this was not going to be my name. He won fair and square. And laughed about how bad we did at Redneck Ring Toss. Clearly, we were finding our niche in both bar games and in the dating game.

As we made our way back to the bar, we sat facing each other. I had another Cher Horowitz moment as I did many moons ago. "Look at that body language. Legs crossed towards each other. That is an unequivocal sex invite!" It was approaching last call somehow, and there was a lot of space at the bar. But my knees touched his, and I didn't budge. He didn't either. As we finished another beer (he keeps surprising me with his ninja skills), he was listening me narrate a story of sorts. But those eyes...they're not the kind of eyes that you first notice when you look at someone who has nice eyes. But they were intense. He would lean on the bar, elbow bent, hand cupping his head, staring at me with those hungry eyes. I wasn't feeling uncomfortable, but like everything else about him, it kept surprising me.

When Emphysema Emily yelled last call, we peeled ourselves off the barstools and started to walk closer to our homes. I don't remember what we were talking about (another reason I'm hesitant to drink on a first date), but the next thing I know, he grabbed my hand and held it. Did he understand that quickly that hand holding is a big deal for me? I didn't mind. In fact, it was a nice gesture. Instead of protecting me from monsters under the bed, he was protecting me from surly bar patrons at an ungodly hour.

 As we approached the bar I brazenly asked if he was going to walk me home or if it was time to say good-bye. It would be a gentlemanly thing to do, he explained, to walk a lady home.

In the sea of pubs and hipster bars, there is a gay bar on the corner. I heard an effeminate voice drunkenly scream my name. My eyes widened to see my darling queen in his glitterbearded glory reaching out for a "hey girl."

I hugged him and greeted him while his partner, also in drag, pulled me close and drunkenly told me he loved me and fawned over me for a few moments. All the while, The Adventurer standing by, amused with hands in his pockets.

"AY! WHO IS THAT MAN RIGHT THERE GIRL?!"

Sheepishly again, I told him I was on a date. My queen is a mama bear who looks out for me and anyone he loves. To my surprise, as he has been good at all night, he walked up to my darling glitterbeard and introduced himself. I could see in my periphery, Glitterbeard sizing him up. I didn't want to keep them from whatever after party they had, so I said that The Adventurer was walking me home.

"YEAH, WALK MY GIRL HOME AND TAKE CARE OF HER! LOOK AT THEM HOLDING HANDS BEING CUTE AND SHIT! GO ON, GIRL!"

Paraphrasing, but that's really the gist of it. This date, was an adventure for sure.

He walked me up to my doorstep, and I gave him a long, awkward drunken hug (fine two) goodbye.

As I lay in bed, reflecting on this crazy journey of juggling multiple men, I grinned. This could be a good thing. I have always been a risk taker, and that night wasn't any different. I'm glad I gave him a chance, booze and all.

Date #2 is coming in a couple of days.

The journey continues....

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.