Tag: dating
Oops, Late-Night Retrobruxist Friday 5/31/13
Ran across a blog post today titled Worst End of School Year Mom Ever. I can relate. I think most teachers feel like bad teachers at the end of the year.
Main reason: standardized testing. It’s The Worrrrrrrrrrst. Bad for kids, sure, but as I tell the kids: “At least you get to DO something. I just have to SIT THERE.” In fact, read I Got Middle Schooled for a little taste of what teachers and proctors go through. It’s horrifying and hilarious.
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Three years ago, I shared my experiences with anti-depressants. The magic bullet I mentioned was amino acids—a monster truck load of them per day—which I took for several years, and they definitely helped. But they were super-duper-expensive and not-at-all covered by my super-duper-crappy health insurance. I weaned myself off them within the last six months, and I think I’m doing OK. I have my moments, but between CrossFit, food choices, and workin on mah shit, I’m maintaining a pretty healthy level of sanity.
Two years ago, I found the All-Time Worst Prospect on OKCupid. Seriously though.
A year ago, a shocking news story broke.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.
Protected: How About a Refund
Whoa, Almost Forgot Retrobruxist Friday 4/5/13
Three years ago, I did laughter yoga. It was real dumb, and I kind of loved it.
I was lamenting the need to go pants shopping two years ago, but I have come a long way, you guys. I went jeans shopping on Wednesday with Kate and Michelle (blog post surely to come), and I bought jeans, and I BOUGHT SKINNY JEANS WHAAAAAAAAAAAAAA?
You heard me.
To blog about dating or not to blog about dating: that was the question I was asking myself a year ago. Clearly the answer is uh durrrrrr, of course.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.
Protected: You Guys, Good News
Protected: No, How About We Pound a Few Natty Lites in Holly Fucking Springs
Retrobruxist Friday 3/29/13, or On Being “Desperate” (Now with Norovirus!)
Ugh. Norovirus. Or food poisoning, or something. When I wasn’t exploding from both ends, I was curled up on my pull-out couch with the dogs, moaning. Moaning! I literally moaned for, like, 15-minute stretches. Then I would watch two episodes of How I Met Your Mother, and then I would turn it off so I could moan some more.
Seems to be gone now (knock wood). I’m vertical today, and I’ve eaten a banana and some Rice Chex.
In other news, my dad swung through town earlier this week. :)
Talking to my sister on the phone: “Amy picked me up in the middle of the melee at RDU. I was nervous because of the guy on the goddamn lawn mower going back and forth.” (It was a cop on a Segway.)
Amid bon mots, he said something about how I seem, here on the blog, “almost desperate for a relationship”. Isn’t that the worst word to hear about yourself? Desperate? Wasn’t that the ultimate high school take-down? “God, she’s so… desperate.”
But he’s right. I do seem, here on the blog, almost desperate for a relationship. I’d even take out the ‘almost’.
That’s for two reasons. First, both ends of the spectrum, the one that goes from “Victorious Is What Happened” to “Cyclone of Despair”, are compelling, but the middle? Not really, right? The “I Got a Solid Eight Hours So My Day Wasn’t Too Exhausting” and the “Grocery Store, PetSmart, and Home Depot in One Outing—High-five, Me” that make up most of my life, I mean, I’m pretty excited about them, but they make for vanilla reading. So, I’m going to write about the times when I’m either feeling a sense of hope or one of catastrophe. And granted, the latter happens more often and is usually funnier.
So that’s the main thing. You hear about my being desperate to be in a relationship because that’s what’s interesting.
The second thing is that I’m desperate to be in a relationship.
Not desperate. But yeah, kinda desperate. Two reasons, I like companionship, and I want kids. In the post I just linked to, I said I wasn’t an extrovert. But I am. I’m an extrovert. Being around people energizes extroverts (and saps the energy of introverts). I definitely get energy from being with people.
However, I’m shy. People say, “Isn’t that the same as introverted?” No. Shy means I’m scared of people I don’t know. Like, all of them.
I’m scared of people, but I need people—ain’t that the worst?
Anyhow, it’s got me thinking, that’s probably why pretty much all my dating in the last four years has been online. Because I don’t make eye contact with people I don’t know (because I’m scared of them) when I’m out in the real world, so it’s hard to connect. Maybe I should try that? Eye contact? With people I don’t know? My hands are sweating.
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Three years ago, I wrote a POWM! I write POWTRY!
Two years ago, 70,000 people heard me tell a story.
A year ago, I was trying to control the controllables. Maybe making eye contact with strangers is controlling a controllable? Or maybe I try a different website. A friend recently sent me this one, which takes a sort of different approach to the whole online dating thing… I’m gonna go lie back down and moan some more.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.
Liar
Depression tells you that that one’s too young — he can’t possibly want what you want out of a relationship, so don’t even ask — and that other one, he’s too straight-laced — he’d bolt at the first sign of the real you.
And do you really want him anyway?
Depression says you’re too tired to walk the dogs, it’s too cold to walk the dogs. Then you’re an asshole for not walking the dogs.
God, you’re so fucking lazy.
Depression tells you that that thing you posted on your friend’s Facebook wall? She didn’t realize you were joking and now she thinks you’re mean. And it won’t stop saying it.
You’re mean.
Everyone thinks you’re mean.
Depression whispers that it won’t work out. It’ll never work out.
Depression says there’s something wrong with you. Like, fundamentally wrong with you. That’s why shit is so messed up.
It’s your fault. You caused it.
And depression? Depression is an excellent liar.
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I’m fine. I’ll be fine. It’s just, for the last couple weeks, I’ve been lied to a lot.
Retrobruxist Friday 11/2/12
Three years ago, I responded to the negging incident. Awwwww, I was such an online-dating newbie, with my adorable disappointment in dudes’ profiles and emails. Now I’m all jaded and cranky and resigned to spinsterhood.
Progress.
My battle with acne started decades back. I wrote about it two years ago. I do eat way less sugar nowadays, but I also use
My sister looked at the bottle recently and was like, “That bottle…”
And I said, “Looks like it’ll punch your zits in the face?”
“Yes, that’s it,” she said.
It does punch my zits in the face, for the most part. The dermatologist prescribed Retin-A too, and so far, when I apply only a pea-sized amount, rather than the circus peanut-sized amount I used to apply as a teen, it doesn’t seem to make my face
in the sun.
I was just thinking about the genesis a year ago of the great martial art abdo-shindo because I seem to have given myself some abdo this week. There’s something sexy about sore abs. Makes you feel like they’re all hard and tight and ripply.
Sore abs are liars.
Speaking of which, I already gave you the Embarrassing Photo of the Week, but I’m nothing if not generous, so here you go:
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.
Retrobruxist Friday 10/26/12
Hey, guess what! I have some kind of ragey infection in my EYEBALL! The opthalmalogist took fancy pictures of my splotchy cornea yesterday. As an aside, amongst the things you never want to hear at a doctor’s office: “I think it’s really good you came in today.” Also: “I don’t think it’ll affect your vision.”
Anyway, I get to put steroid/antiobiotic drops in my eyes four times a day for ten days. As an aside, I’m pathologically incapable of landing a drop in my eye. My flinch response is like a thunderbolt. So, essentially, I spent $25 at CVS on cheek/eyebrow/mouth drops.
I didn’t ask my eye-guy if I should forego tomorrow’s Tough Mudder, Redux, because I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have liked his answer. As an aside, almost-certain death tomorrow, you guys!
Three years ago, a guy tried his hand at negging me. Suck it, guy.
Two years ago — miracle of miracles — I found a dude on eGoddamnHarmony that I actually liked. (Never blogged about it, but I did email him. He didn’t respond. <sniff>)
And a year ago, with just a few simple guidelines, I was riling up the segment of the CrossFit community that either (a) couldn’t read; (b) didn’t get my sense of humor; or (c) both.
Happy Retrobruxist Friday, y’all.