Three to a Match

Okay so I was overdue for a bad first date.

The Teacher was a bust.

First of all, he sends me a text talking about our discussion earlier that day to meet at 8PM. Ok, that's understood. Less than five minutes pass where I don't respond and he texts me the elusive "K?"

Dude I'm busy! Clearly it couldn't wait...

So I drove 30 miles out of my way to meet him. He told me he'd be five minutes late. That five minutes quickly turned into 30 minutes. I told him what I was wearing and that I was outside the restaurant. Instead of walking up, he told me to meet him in the parking lot. You better believe I was thrilled to have an emergency text ready to be sent to my best friend.

(Imagine a brunette Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys)

JSG Dating Rule #1: If you're going to use a picture of yourself on your profile, please make sure it's you. It's courteous. However, this is my fault. He only had 10% of his profile complete, and I would later find out that he had only been on the site for a few days. Yes, he is a teacher and works at a gym. But he's also special. Yes, that kind of special. Don't get me wrong. I'm not one to down anyone with a mental disability, but the problem I had with this is that he completely lied. He lied about his picture AND was not upfront. I understand it's probably held him back from dating before but this was big for me. I was already trying to formulate an escape plan.

He had coke-bottle glasses, was short, and had a lisp. I had been duped.

So being the adventurer that I am, I decided to at least get one beer out of it. When the server arrived, I declined a menu and ordered the darkest beer; the kind that matched the hole in my soul for driving 30 minutes away from my turf for a bad date. I chugged it on an empty stomach. In all fairness, he was completely nice, and we had some good conversations. But...

JSG Dating Rule #2: Never mention a second date until you've made it through the first. After slugging back my beer, I ordered a water. I started to see a glimmer of hope when he was done with his beer, but he ended up ordering another. So I sat there and nursed my stale lemon water, trying to fight through the frustration. He mentioned that I would learn to love the water if I would join him and his family on their boat.

I almost choked on a lemon seed. He tried to convince me that the picture was him. Now he's trying to convince me that he could change my opinion.

After a few moments of forced conversation (and one awkward racist comment from him), I brought up the elephant in the room, and asked how long he had been on the site. That's when I learned that he had only been there for a few days. Then I did what I have never, ever wanted to do on a dating adventure: I became a hypocrite and lied. I told him I couldn't stay because I had to be up early the next day (I'm a night owl, obviously). And that I was only on the site to simply meet new people. I saw his pupils shrink behind his glasses, and his face drew long. He thought this was going well, and here I am crushing his spirit. I needed something stronger than murky lemon water at this point.

Before the check came out, I forced a smile, thanked him for a beer, shook his hand, and wished him good luck. Shuffling my tall boots, hoping it didn't look like I was running, I walked out of the door not looking back. This made...makes me feel awful. But I have always said my time was valuable. But here I was, a hypocrite like him. And I tried to justify it. Would any girl in my situation do the same thing?

Once I made it to my car, I called my best friend. Let me tell you about her a bit: blissfully married to my other best friend, both of whom I set up (I make better decisions for others than I do for myself). Bed time is almost always 9PM. She has no vices (she says she'll save those for me). However, she is my kindred spirit who will accept a phone call at 10PM if my life depended on it. This was one of those times:

"So it must have either been really awesome or absolutely horrible if you're calling me about the date. I know you said you had an emergency text ready, but wow"

I then spouted off at least ten run-on sentences explaining my situation. Her reaction ranged from fair sympathy to uproarious laughter. In hindsight, I'm glad I shared that laugh with her.

Through the long drive home, I considered the events of my day. Earlier plans for a movie with The Trainer fell through. At that moment with my windows down on the highway, I longed to be sitting in a cold theater rather than a loud bar with my horrible date. And Dragon was out of town for the day. He asked what I was doing later that night. Somehow it seems appropriate to add this:

I mentioned that I was out in a different part of town. Once again I became a hypocrite. We haven't labeled ourselves, so why is it his business to know who I was with? Maybe it's like Dating Darwinism: to survive in the dating world, we go through some tough spots in our evolution as mates. We maim others and garner new skills to survive. This is my way of protecting myself to ensure optimal survival.

 

After a few flirtatious texts, Dragon made his way to my side of town. I had every intention of staying home after the bad date. It was safer. I knew Dragon had homework, so I did the right thing after many hypocritical moments that night, and told him he should focus on getting his work done. Logic goes out the window after midnight, so he ended up staying over.

 

Yes, I let a man stay over. My dog wasn't happy about it. In fact she made a statement mess next to my bed as if to say "there can only be one. She's mine, not yours." Luckily he took that in stride.

 

We had multiple sheet pulling sessions that night. In between them we would laugh and tell stories to each other. In the early hours of the morning, we talked about everything that makes us happy. This is the first time I've felt that he let the seductive performer take a seat, and asked the softer, gentler side of me to dance. This is the connection I crave: for someone to appreciate the two of many sides that make up who I am.

 

Once again, I had to dodge mixed signals with Dragon. We laid there in between one of our trysts, caressing each other, and he said eyes widened and a playful smirk on his face:

"You know this is a big deal for me as someone who doesn't want to be tied down or committed"

If this isn't what we want, why are we here?  I'm not sure how much of that he meant, and honestly I simply ignored that statement. Everything he shows me seems to void those words. I'm not the one texting first. I'm not the one trying to make time for him. That's all him. It's not to say that I don't make an effort on my end, but he initiates it. Always.

Chemistry: An attraction that can't be quantified or explained.  We both don't deny that the chemistry isn't there. In one passage of Rachel Machacek's Science of Single, she talks to a woman named Dorothy who is in charge of dating seminars. She says that chemistry the bad boy, not someone that you need. Because really what girl doesn't enjoy a bad boy? The chemistry is damn-near intoxicating. And for now, I am find getting drunk from it.

So we held each other close. He fell asleep with his arms around me. Whenever I adjusted my position, he would too, never letting me stray too far from where he was. His hand would find my own, and hold it to would pull me near. I would turn and bury my face into the perfect nook of his shoulder, tracing my fingertips on his arms as he would gently caress my hair, kissing my cheek. If this isn't what we want, why are we here?

I am forcing myself to go with the flow. My friends try to break it down as simply as they can for me: if you're having fun, and he's game to play with you, then what's the problem? There should be no need to analyze this. If I'm happy and he's seemingly happy, then a problem doesn't exist. It sounds delusional to me, but maybe I can find a happy medium.

When morning broke the dawn, I met his widened gaze that greeted me good morning. I immediately reacted with a grin, nuzzled into his shoulder and said it back.

"I'm really glad a spent the night with you"

He said these words while he rested his chin against my chest. With a warm grin, I opened my arms and brought him as close as I could. I didn't want to say anything even though I shared the same sentiment. I only wanted him to feel my spirit aching to reach out to him. The heart and spirit that is a caged bird, ready to fly blindly into his sight.

There is a superstition dating back to WWI. It is considered a bad omen to light three cigarettes to a match. The enemy can spot the first spark. And then he'll trace it to a second spark. By the third, the location of the soldiers is clear, and they are open in an attack. I'm applying the same superstation to my dating life. It is nearly impossible to juggle three men, and now we're down to two. It's not a duel or a joust for my affection though. I'm not here to break any hearts. Whether it's with Dragon or The Trainer I would like something to work out.

But for now, I'm hiding the pack of matches. Safety first.

"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....

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.

This Sums Up my Dating Philosophy Perfectly

The Beatles got many things right. They got music, long hair, global domination, and simple declarations of love just right.

I Wanna Hold Your Hand...

Hands, to me, are the emotional key in a relationship. While you can tell a lot about your partner by looking into his/her eyes, all of your thoughts and feelings are confirmed when you hold each other's hands. It's usually an electric, balmy, awkward connection when you first begin. But that's what makes it exciting. You can hold hands now! You don't need to have uncomfortable boundary conversations about holding hands as compared to sex.

All of the still-married couples I've talked to emphasize how important the simple things are, and how they define the cohesiveness as a dynamic duo. Let's face it: when it comes to dating and relationships, most girls just want someone to caress their faces, talk music and movies with, have their own mini adventures, even if it's only trying to find the right beer at a liquor store. That last one? Totally did it. Try it sometime. You'll learn a few things about a person by which beer or spirit he or she chooses.

So here it is. This is from Nick & Norah's Infinite Playlist. Sidenote: Get the soundtrack. Great tracks! Try to deal with the awkwardness of Michale Cera. I mean...look at this kid.

And for those of you Beatles purists, here is perfection and quite possibly one of the greatest love songs ever written.