Tag Archives: OkCupid

Date Three. Part One.

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“Are you going to do a statement lip?”

“Well, considering I don’t even know what that means, I think the answer is no.”

“Okay,” Lux said, as she pulled up a variety of nail polish images on her office laptop. “From what you’ve told me about your outfit, here are some choices of what I think you should wear.”

“You have a whole Pinterest board just for nails?” I asked.

“Of course!” she exclaimed.

“I think I like that one,” I said and pointed to a deep purple shade.

“Good choice,” she said, nodding. “Very popular for Winter.”

I sat back in my chair and sighed. “God, I hate getting manicures. I was supposed to do it yesterday but I blew it off.”

She was wide-eyed. “Why would you hate getting manicures?”

“Because I hate strangers rubbing my hands with all that lotion and they clip your cuticles and the filing noise makes my teeth hurt and it’s all just so gross!” I shuddered. “And not to mention, then you have to sit there for 10 minutes while your nails dry and you can’t touch anything, not even flip through a magazine, and it’s so supremely a waste of time and SO BORING.” Continue reading Date Three. Part One. →

If At First You Don’t Succeed, Try, Try…Ugh.

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The Fun Committee had convened in the Cafe, along with our part-time 21-year-old intern from NYU, Tara. The Cafe is an empty office that my company had turned into a hodgepodge lounging space complete with a working cappuccino machine and random scarves and pillows strewn everywhere. There is even a colorful collection of plastic tambourines arranged on the desk. I don’t know why.

I pulled out my notebook as Anna finished up making our coffee drinks. “Guys,” I said. “We have a situation.”

“What is it?” asked Emily. “Did the location for Office Happy Hour fall through?”

“No. Something much, much more serious.” I took a deep breath. “OkCupid is not working out.”

Emily’s expression darkened as she fired up her laptop. Tara straightened up and pulled the pen from her make-shift hair bun. She poised it over an empty notebook page. Anna somberly placed a cappuccino in front of me and put a hand on my shoulder. There would be no talk of Amanda Knox on this day. Continue reading If At First You Don’t Succeed, Try, Try…Ugh. →

Date One.

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There was something going on with my eye. I don’t know if I got Oil of Olay in it or what. But the right one was totally red and sickly looking. This is the kind of thing that, naturally, only happens when you have a job interview, when you’re at an event where you’ll have your picture taken often – such as a wedding, or if you’re going on a first date.

Which is what I was doing today. Continue reading Date One. →

My Ex Has Been Reading My Blog.

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“Are you sure you aren’t using this as an excuse to contact him?” Veronica asked. We were having our usual Sunday phone chat, where it was early afternoon for her in Portland so she was getting ready for CrossFit and it was late afternoon for me in New York so I was getting ready for the workweek ahead.

“I…,” I had to stop and think about that. “I don’t think so.”

“Okay,” she said warily.

“No,” I said with more assurance, as I filled my Monday through Friday vitamin packets. “I’m not. I have to tell him. If he hears I’m writing about him from someone else, he’ll be really pissed.”

“Well, let me know how it goes,” she said.

“I will.”

In all honesty, he would probably be pissed regardless. My Ex is the most private person I’ve ever known. He doesn’t even post things about himself on Facebook. It’s either about his band or some sort of informed political rant. Meanwhile, I’m like, “Hi everybody! Now I’m chewing blue gum!” Continue reading My Ex Has Been Reading My Blog. →

Zeke Comes to Visit. Part Two.

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Zeke let me cry into his shoulder for awhile on the couch. Then, after I’d wiped my nose on his sleeve, he’d gotten up to find me some Advil. “So, what’s going on Trace?” he asked, as he rifled around in the medicine cabinet.

“He doesn’t love me anymore!” I wailed. I flopped into the couch and buried my face in a pillow.

“Well, yeah,” he replied. “That’s what happens with breakups.”

“You don’t understand,” I said. But he couldn’t really hear me. Continue reading Zeke Comes to Visit. Part Two. →

Wait. So you mean crushed-velvet blazers are not the look for Fall?

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The next night, three of my closest girlfriends burst into my apartment like a fashion SWAT team – high heels clicking on the wood floor, bangles clanging against each other, chic bags slung tightly over shoulders. I looked down at my chosen outfit for the night: a faded, too tight pink Motley Crue t-shirt, black jeans that accentuated my muffin-top and black knock-off Uggs.

This was why I needed their help.

After I finished up my profile, I’d immediately sent out an emergency distress signal to my friends. They’d kindly canceled whatever plans they’d had and showed up toting bottles of wine and enough food to feed us for a week-long sequestering. They knew this was an extreme situation that warranted extreme measures.

An extreme closet makeover was in order.

I hate to shop. I always end up simultaneously dehydrated and also having to pee and never able to find a bathroom. I easily get overwhelmed and so I find myself sweating and breathless, feeling claustrophobic as people shove by me, scratching my arms with their hangers. I just don’t care about clothes and therefore don’t give them a lot of attention and time. As a result, I go shopping about twice a year and try to buy a whole season’s worth of wardrobe in one morning. I’ll find a few things (usually dresses because I am too lazy to try on separates) and then, already aggravated with the whole thing, I’ll just purchase each item in three different colors. Inevitably, I’ll not buy enough so I end up wearing the same outfits for many, many years. Long after they’ve gone out of style. That is, if they ever were in style to begin with. This was not suitable for dating in NYC.
Continue reading Wait. So you mean crushed-velvet blazers are not the look for Fall? →

Wade Takes the Wheel.

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“Match.com is for people who have to pay to get a date. And you, my dear, are better than that. Now it’s all about OkCupid. That is the site you will join.”

When my boss, Wade, said things like this with such assuredness, I knew I needed to sit up and take notice. He was perched on the exercise ball I keep in my office cube for visitors, drinking a protein shake with an peculiar green tint. He was the vision of business-casual perfection with his lightweight sweater of that certain shade of yellow that can be worn in any season and perfectly tailored pinstriped slacks. His shoes were, of course, unscuffed but not offensively over-shined.

“But I thought that was what made Match.com better, that if you’re paying then you are proving you’re serious about actually meeting someone. Isn’t OkCupid more like a hookup meat-market site?” I asked, as I surreptitiously began applying a floral scented lotion to my hands and arms as I was pretty sure I smelled like a frat house from last night’s overindulgence of beer and cigarettes. Clearly I was not handling this breakup well. Continue reading Wade Takes the Wheel. →