Tag Archives: Writing

The Beauty is in The Details. Or At Least a Good Profile Picture.

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My back hurt. I was starving. And my blood alcohol content was getting dangerously low. It was 8 o’clock that Friday night and I was just now getting to the part of actually filling out my profile. This was not going as planned.

I’d already made it through the anxiety-producing process of creating a username. It needed to be fun, flirty and positive without seeming too artsy or naive. It also needed to not sound too desperate, bitter or inadvertently pornstarish. After discarding many choices, I felt I’d come up with something that sounded relatively interesting without seeming as if I was trying too hard to sound relatively interesting. So that was done. The next step was to upload profile pictures.

I am hopeless when it comes to anything technical. In truth, the only reason I was able to even put this blog together was because my co-worker, Lux, tirelessly built it for me and then walked me through each small, painful step to actually utilize it. (Her: “No, stop clicking on the actual site! Click on the Dashboard!” Me: “What’s a Dashboard?!”) I was trying to pull pictures from Facebook but they were all too small. After an hour and a half of exasperation, I put my head on my desk and wished I could just call Lux and have her do it for me. The only problem was that she had a new baby so it seemed totally inappropriate to call her at 8 o’clock on a Friday night with such a ridiculous request. And also, I didn’t have her phone number. Continue reading The Beauty is in The Details. Or At Least a Good Profile Picture. →

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. →

IF YOU ARE NEW TO THE BLOG, START HERE: When One Door Closes, Another One Opens. Even If You Have to Kick It Down.

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“You’re too pretty.”

“You intimidate men.”

“Your online dating profile is too long, it makes you look crazy.”

“You look down too much when you walk.”

“You don’t get out enough.”

“You have your headphones in when you’re on the subway.”

“You come across as a bitch when people first meet you.”

“New York City is a hard place to meet someone.”

“You just haven’t found the person who will accept your flaws.”

“You don’t say ‘hi’ to strangers.”

“You don’t try hard enough.”

“You have a cat. It makes it look like you’ve given up.”

“You don’t show enough cleavage.”

These are the reasons people have given me for why I am still single at 42. As each of my friends have paired off over the past decades, I’ve often wondered why it really is that I am still single. It certainly wasn’t what I’d hoped for or planned. What was I doing wrong? I have my own list of why I think I’m still single. It is:

I never meet anyone my own age.

I hate shopping so my wardrobe is still stuck in 1995.

I would rather be home watching Investigation ID than go out.

I need to lose 10 pounds.

I have a compulsion to drunk-text.

I know nothing about music.

I can’t cook. I smoke cigarettes.

I’m an over-sharer.

I talk too much and too loudly.

I always look tired because I have insomnia. Or I’m hungover.

I’m too needy.

I’m too pale.

I have a cat. It makes it look like I’ve given up.

I don’t show enough cleavage.

I recently reconnected with my high school boyfriend. I hadn’t talked to him in 14 years but I can say honestly, he’d never been far from my mind. I’d always loved him. When we got back together six months ago, I said to myself, “This is why I’ve been single for so long! High School Sweethearts Reunited! What a great story this will be! I can’t wait to update my Facebook status!” But it was not meant to be. I was crushed. I thought this was finally my Happily Ever After. Continue reading IF YOU ARE NEW TO THE BLOG, START HERE: When One Door Closes, Another One Opens. Even If You Have to Kick It Down. →