Red Flags & Bacon

What happens when you go on a date with yourself?

It's weird. Things get weird.
Just kidding. I'm not to that point yet. But I have been taking myself to dinner a lot lately. I'm a really good gentle-woman. I always open the door, and I always pick up the tab.

Ok seriously, a couple weeks ago I went on one of the most interesting dates of my Tinder experiences yet.

I had been talking to a guy that I had matched with on several sites. He had a beard and some pictures with trees in it, AND he passed the clearance of my male friend approval, so I felt pretty confident in my selection of this guy. He read my blog and openly admitted to Facebook and Instagram stalking me. I liked him already.

We met at a coffee shop. He was much taller and much cuter in person. Both a bonus. I had a zit between my eyes and I'm sure he was staring at it the whole time.

And then began this weird/awesome/unorthodox date where we went from being strangers to discussing our ex-marital issues, sexual endeavors, hobbies and interests, that one sibling we all seem to have, and yes or no on anal and threesomes other things that most people wait till at least the 17th date to discuss. The people sitting at the table next to us kept leaving.

I usually sit through dates calculating how many drinks I need to make this shit interesting but still be able to play it off like I'm not a total lush. I had actually never been on a coffee date, or a sober date, for that matter. I was unusually comfortable sitting here, stone cold sober, discussing the innerworkings of my seriously fucked up brain, and discovering that he was as equally insane as I was. I was soaking up everything he was saying, and all the while these red lights kept going off in my brain. We call them red-flags. This guy was a blaring red flag. He was the light you didn't notice while your friend riding shotgun is screaming, "RED LIGHT!"

Only I didn't slam my brakes on. I didn't think to myself... well here's a guy who clearly has some issues and I should excuse myself and make a run for it. I sat there with this guy at the coffee shop for something like 5 or 6 more hours until we decided it was weird that we were still there and we moved next door to the bar. I watched him drink a couple beers while I drooled jealously with my water. He mentioned that his shock factor had no effect on me and he thought it was weird. I wasn't phased. The only thing that would have made me fidget was if he had told me he murdered someone. Even then, I would have stayed. I was planted in that seat waiting to uncover more fucked up mysteries.

A good friend of mine and I have been discussing red flags fairly frequently. Mostly about how we ignored them with our previous spouses, and how blatant they were. I vowed to never ignore red flags again and yet here I was, trying to keep track of all the red flags being thrown... completely unphased by them.

Every single red flag that went off in my brain, I quickly talked down because I realized I was on a hot date with myself.

Holy shit, I thought. I am a walking red flag.

Is this what it's like when I date people? Are these guys just sitting there like 'holy shit this girl is nuts. I need to get out of here.' How could I judge someone when I had behaved the same way? How could I think less of this person for being so open about their wrong-doings in life? I couldn't. I had been and sometimes still am the same lost person trying to figure it out.

All I could think about was my own behavior; how I felt when I was in his place, going through this phase in life, doing some of these things we were discussing. How much I disliked myself, how I had lost track of the person I had worked so hard to become, forgetting about any repercussions to my actions, my total disregard for anyone else's emotions or well being. I couldn't help but feel that I would be going backwards by continuing anything with this guy but there I sat, still unmoved. The kindred spirit connection was stronger than what little common sense I contain when it comes to the opposite gender. 

“But the reality is we often become our kindest, most ethical selves only by seeing what it feels like to be a selfish jackass first.” 

― Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things: Advice on Love and Life from Dear Sugar

Here's what I liked about this guy: He was honest, genuine, insanely sarcastic, and interesting. And attractive. The beard. The height. The Patagonia Snap-T fleece.

I have dated about 107 men since my split from my husband and I have only come across a few guys that are willing to open up on a first date in general- usually after a few beers, and even fewer (none, actually) to lay it all out there like that. Take it or leave it. I was picking it up. Being able to be this honest and raw was so attractive. My mind was so turned on. Ok, so was my body a little bit.

I like these people. We're like mind-ed. They're part of my tribe or something like that.

This kind of brutal honesty and open conversation was so hot to me. It says to me, I know I'm a seriously messed up human, I don't know what the f*ck I'm doing but here I am, trying to make sense of it. They're not afraid of themselves. I've never been attracted to the idea of perfection, or to people that don't ever get out and live. It took me 25ish years to figure out that I don't want to be surrounded by perfect people or people that pretend to be. I want to be surrounded by loving, genuine people. People who get out there and do what feels right in that moment are my favorite kind of people. Our intuition is not always right. Sometimes we just fuck up. F*cking up builds character. It makes you smarter as you learn through your mistakes. Unless, you're me... then it just gives you lots and lots of character.

I just finished reading Cheryl Strayed's, Wild and I couldnt help but love this part of her book: 

“What if I forgave myself? I thought. What if I forgave myself even though I'd done something I shouldn't have? What if I was a liar and a cheat and there was no excuse for what I'd done other than because it was what I wanted and needed to do? What if I was sorry, but if I could go back in time I wouldn't do anything differently than I had done? What if I'd actually wanted to fuck every one of those men? What if heroin taught me something? What if yes was the right answer instead of no? What if what made me do all those things everyone thought I shouldn't have done was what also had got me here? What if I was never redeemed? What if I already was?” 

Life is full of lessons, if you're willing to learn. Mistakes are meant to be made. It's how my kids have learned that I am right about absolutely everything. You don't want to wear a coat in the pouring rain? Suit yourself. 

So what did I do? I went home with him. He said he had bacon.

You know that feeling you get when you like someone? That's your common sense leaving your body.

#redflags
#thereforareason
#putyourhandontheburneryouregonnagetburned

Hello, Tinder... it's ME, again.

So yeah. I re-activated my Tinder.

What can I say? I love meeting strangers in dark alleys coffee shops.

My friends have been giving me crap since 2014 about playing the Tinder game- saying they can't keep up with who's who and all the guys., blah blah blah. I admit- sometimes I've gone a little overboard and I can't decipher between Chris Tinder and Chris 2 Tinder, and I've had to add emoji's or pictures to their names so I can remember who's who or change their last name from Tinder to Kentucky so I can remember where they're from. There are a lot of Chris, Matt, and Cody's out there, it's not my fault.

Their second complaint is that it's trash and like, do I REALLY have to date? And god, I have awful taste in men. Why Tinder?

The answer: YES I HAVE TO DATE. It gives me something to look forward to, and something to do on the weekends while my kids are gone and my friends are busy canoodling with their boyfriends and planning their weddings and babies and whatnot.

Also, sex. and I'm not getting any younger. So there. Shut up about it.

And YES TINDER. Because I tried a few other dating sites and they were too formal, too pushy, and felt like harassment. Tinder is great because we've already agreed that we have a mutually shallow attraction to each other. Plus I've got the swiping down to a science. Left, right, left, left, left, left.

So yes there are a lot of guys, and there are a lot of dates, and a LOT of ups and downs... but in my defense, it's not like I'm stringing along several guys. I mean, ok I am- but I'm also genuinely interested in some aspect of each guy. I wouldn't waste my time or energy conversing with someone that I didn't have at least an inkling of an interest in. I'M NOT A GUY. Ok, that was a low blow but seriously guys- WTF?

SIDENOTE: It's like men think that because their egos are so fragile that ours are too. Newsflash- they're not. I think I speak for several women when I say we will be okay if you just flat out say "I'm not that interested in you." In fact, we will be grateful and we'll delete your number from our phone and never think about you again. Really, its the truth.

So with this being like my 7 billionth round of 'delete app, fuck guys * 2 weeks pass* get bored, re-add app' I finally realized... I keep doing it. I'M ADDICTED TO TINDER. So why? Is Tinder the definition of insanity? Maybe.

For you Tinder haters out there- we'll have to agree to disagree. Because I've decided to give Tinder another go for the 27th time and while yeah, my friends are right- I have awful taste in men... I'm going to keep dating.

Remember that one time I said I'd talk about the 5 people you meet on Tinder? I had to abandon that idea because I realized there's not five different people you meet. They're all the same. WE are all kind of the same. When it comes to dating, we're all in the same boat. Trying to figure out the rules, trying not to get hurt, not break too many hearts. And occasionally get laid somewhere in there. We're all kind of assholes. So I gave those guys a break. I forgave them. Because somewhere inside of me, I can be a fuckboy too.

You see, after my divorce I wasn't ready to date but I thought I was. I was (am) a hot mess, and I kept picking guys that weren't right for me, possibly subconsciously. I picked guys that looked good and had several red solo cups in their pictures because I was looking for a good time. Over the last couple years, I've gotten better at screening my dates. And like, mellowing out. Sorta. We're working on it. 

But I don't regret any of that. Dating guys that essentially were a good time but meant nothing to me, helped me-- it helped me get through the loneliness, and the transition period where I didn't even know what my own name was, the awkward phase of learning how to date-- like how do I eat this burger without getting it all over my face while still attempting to look semi attractive and how to not give away that I'm a total psycho on the first date, and most importantly it f*cking helped me get laid-- and that is important post divorce, no matter what anyone tells you. But hell, 2 1/2 years later I'm STILL learning. I'm learning what I want and what I don't want. 

And even though, I'm a rare breed-- a single, (almost) divorced Mom with two kids-- I'm not really much different, and I'm certainly not alone. It's not like I'm entering this playing field years out of practice and everyone else knows what the f*ck they're doing. Everyone else is just as confused as me. And that's because my generation never dated. We threw parties with red cups and joints in our parents glass houses while they were out of town, snuck off to corners and closets to make out and other things, and the only date any of us ever went on was Homecoming or Tolo, and even that was a group thing.

Maybe this is why we are all ASSHOLES? Because our parents never taught us any manners, or how to ask a girl on a proper date, or how to tell a guy no, or which freaking fork to use for our salad. No that's not it. We were told. Maybe our generation is just f*cking lazy. We think taking a girl out for drinks suffices as a good first date, and that as a woman we should accept this if he's cute enough. (No, we shouldn't) and no, that's not it either. We've all heard Grandpa's story about how hard he had to try to win Grandma's heart after she told him to stick it where the sun don't shine, we've seen the movies where people did actually go on dates and where men and women had to ask each other out in person instead of through an app. I'm not really sure why we are all assholes or why we suck so bad at dating but the only way to figure this all out is to do it. Date, that is.

The way I see it, I just keep getting better. (HA) And not in a conceited way. In an experience kind of way. Even my friends have started saying things like, "You're picking better guys! He wasn't a complete douchebag, just a little bit douchey" Occasionally there's a totally off the wall "WTF" kind of date-- you know, the one where they look nothing like their picture and the conversation isn't even remotely interesting and then you spend the rest of the date texting your friends SOS BITCHES- SAVE ME. Or calling them to slur "I love you" while you're sitting next to your own puke on the sidwalk.

I never said I was perfect.

YOLO (Yes, you can smack me)

[You only live once, but if you do it right- once is enough]

In 2015...

I ran my first Bloomsday/12k, two 10k's, and seven 5k's. Only forgot my running shoes on one occasion and managed to not puke or pee my pants once. Outside of that, in training I ran 170 miles.

Tristan and Ryan both completed their first 5k ever! Tristan participated in 4 kids runs and Ryan did 3. We agreed to disagree on who beat who.

I hiked over 72 miles and checked 9 different viewpoints off my list. Mastered the fine art of peeing in the woods without peeing all over myself-- took a few tries. Oh yeah, finally learned to pack some TP.

My boys did their first ever hike up to Poo Poo Point. We only had one kid totally eat shit in the mud, pee his pants on purpose and complain the whole way up. We don't even have to hint which one that is.

I jumped out of a plane! For the first and hopefully the last time.

I traveled outside of the state twice. Traveled to the beach 4 separate times. Managed to not run away for good.

I attended my FIRST Sounders game, got to catch a Mariner's game for the first time since Ryan was born, a Rainier's game, five concerts, including FINALLY seeing Taylor Swift.

I only posted about Taylor Swift on Facebook 19 times this year.

I saw my Grandparents for the first time in 3 years and stayed at their place for the first time since I was a little girl. Channeled all of my self control and didn't TP the neighborhood.

Tristan turned 5, Ryan turned 4, and Mommy turned 21 again!

One of my best friends got married!

And another best friend got engaged!

I went on a lot of dates... Me and the wine aisle got a whole lot closer.

Tristan entered KINDERGARTEN. We all cried. Except him. He ran as fast as he could to get there and didn't even say bye to me.

Tristan played on his first rec soccer team-- Ryan happily cheered from the sidelines making friends with all the snack Mom (s) -- free from rules, exercise, and discipline.

We MOVED! One whole mile away -- But this Mama got herself a bedroom. I don't officially have doors yet but I'm not sleeping in the living room and that's something to celebrate.

I started the long, treacherous journey to Nursing school- 3 quarters down and so many more left, I haven't counted. I began a serious relationship with my coffee pot and learned to be thankful that my barista's pretend not to notice when I roll through for the third time that day.

I forgave my parents for not being perfect because one day I heard myself say "Die quietly" & "I'd lose my head if it wasn't attached" and I realized those apples didn't even roll when they fell from the tree.

I BOUGHT A HAMMOCK. I created my happy place. I mastered the art of parenting without having to get out of the hammock, tricked my kids into cuddling with me, taught them how to bring me beer from the fridge.

I fell even more in love with all the people in my life.

2015 was so amazing-- although far from perfect-- I cried a lot, had my heart broken, didn't win the lottery again, and fell on my ass a few times, BUT-- I lived and I had a hell of a time doing it.

In 2016

I have no specific goals except to keep kicking ass and loving life. I plan to take all the risks my heart tells me to, soak up all the snuggles I can get from my boys, and never miss an opportunity to tell all the people I love that I think they're rad AF and I'm glad they're in my life.

Onward & upward my friends!
Happy New Year!!