Mom, if you are reading this post, stop now. Seriously. Stop. See that little red X in the top right hand corner of the screen? Click on it. Now. Okay, but really, stop reading. Erin and Tara...this should probably go for the two of you as well.
If you have chosen to ignore my attempts of dissuasion and find yourself at the end of this post disgusted, appalled and ashamed to call me daughter/sister...you have no one to blame but yourselves. Ignorance is bliss! This is your second and final warning. STOP READING!
This summer has sucked some major balls of shit and here's why. The dynamic ginger duo has officially and forever been dissolved. At the beginning of June, my bestie/boyfriend Steele (Gross. Now I find the word bestie hideously appalling as well. Thanks a lot Brandy-Son.) suggested I start dating other people. He knew before I had figured it out that he couldn't be the person I needed him to be. Sure, a mature move on his part but still...what the FUCK? And so, in one of my severely LESS than mature moves, decided I was going to date the shit out of Salt Lake. He wants me to date? I'll EFFING date!!!
Oh. But wait. I didn't actually know anyone I wanted to date. But not to worry. In a stroke of sheer genius, I came up with the BEST. IDEA. EVER. I would join a dating site. Worked for the couple featured in the commercial on T.V. How could I go wrong? But just in case, I ran the idea by a couple of my coworkers.
They laughed. They rolled their eyes. They asked if I had been drinking on my lunch break. Maybe. What? NO! They said it was the worst. Idea. Ever. But since the best they could come up with was hooking me up with their unemployed, video game addicted brother living in their parents basement, I decided to go with Plan A.
I set up my account, created my profile, uploaded some pics and started trolling the site and feeling like some dirty creeper doing something that would land me in an orange jumpsuit. I logged off and let it go for a couple of days. When I decided I was feeling desperate enough to try again I logged in and to my horror and fascination discovered I must have been the featured "fresh meat of the day". My inbox had been busy being a little whore and accepting any ole e-mails that presented itself. I had a bunch of people "winking" at me (what the hell is THAT creepy ass shit about?) and 7 IM's spontaneously popped up. I never did figure out how to turn off the damn IM.
After about two weeks of this B.S. it was feeling like a part time job. I know there were quite a few nice, normal...ish men on there but weeding through the douche-fest to find one? Pass. Yes, you have delightful muscles but your grammar is atrocious. And if you don't know what a botanical garden is, much less how to spell it, stop talking to me. And by no means should you continue to e-mail me with increasing hostility when I have not once responded to any of your attempted communications. Do I SEEM like the kind of girl who goes for domestic violence? Unless I'm the one inflicting it, the answer would be NO. Stop writing me. And if I DO actually give you my number and respond to a text. Do NOT immediately call me simply because you know I have my phone on me. There's a reason I'm on the Internet and prefer to communicate through texts. The least amount of actual human interaction, the better.
So. June and July were spent juggling my time between four different candidates. Candidates for what, I'm not entirely sure. I know it doesn't sound like much but when you have 3 to 4 dates every week it gets exhausting. I don't have the stamina or the memory for this kind of thing. I'm too old for this shit. I couldn't remember who was the only child and who played rugby. Who was Buddhist and who was the atheist? It was getting ridiculous and I was wasting their time. I wasn't interested in dating. I was interested in staying so busy that I wouldn't have time to sit still and think about my heartache of losing Steele as a boyfriend. Three months later it still aches but we never would have worked. We're still besties (gag) and have shared custody of Midas. Silly, I know, but we both really love that dog. Strangely enough we get along better and seem to like each other more as friends than significant others.
I lasted less than a month on the dating site but did agree to meet one person from it who I'm still seeing and will write about later. The other 3 gentlemen were from my real life and I am no longer seeing them. They should count their lucky stars they dodged this bitch's psychotic bullet.
Seriously. Thank your God or Buddha or your non-existent black hole of atheist emptiness that you came away unscathed.