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Sealed with a Kiss (& Tell)

And that’s all she wrote…

For now! Just for now! Just until the next unlucky sod crosses my path. I know, leading a life of positivity isn’t my greatest attraction. Who knows what is. I certainly don’t! If you find one, will you let me know?

13 posts. Let’s reminisce shall we? An entire dating site of potential mates, narrowed down to 3 boys willing to talk, and meet with me, down to the last guy, whom for what reason now I can’t remember, let kiss me. It’s been a ride!

While I still believe in ‘the one’, and dream of a life where I live with that kind of love in a partnership, what this blog has ended up teaching me is NOT about the importance of romance and relationships, but about how YOU as a person are the deciding factor in your love life – and ultimately, I think the big lesson is that you have to love yourself. I’m not there yet…not yet, but I am more comfortable within myself and within the space of my doubts knowing that I’ve at least stepped into the pool. I’ve seen some of what goes on in the alien landscape of love. And it’s my choice whether or not to drink the Kool-Aid. I’m on way too many medications to drink, so maybe it means passing up on a few ‘could be’s’. Taking care of ME is a full time position, and when I figure out how to do that, I’ll let someone else have a go at taking care of me.

As it hangs in the space of the vast ‘interwebs’, I hope my blog stands as sign to other unhopefuls or feeling unhopefuls that it is totally possible to start from zero, no matter your age or your background. There WILL be someone out there for you to test the waters with and to date, even if you ultimately decide that’s not what you want.

So in her true form, Wigless Wonder Woman below will give you her 3 minute make of all this mess & encourage you to add YOUR mess to the universe, hoping that somewhere you’ll make a match out of the mess. For me, that mess is brain surgery, bipolar, Type A & stubborn as heck. Yours may be different, but you’ll fall for a mess just like they’ll fall for yours. A Messily Ever After.

I’ll see you soon – I’ve fallen in love with you all. XOXO, Molly

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No Spooning Allowed

My first date was October 10, 2017 and it looks like my last date might be November 25, 2017. No, not because I found ‘the one’ or anything like that, but because with this date, I think I might be done with the whole thing. Three guys, a total of four dates, and I’ve completed every one of my objectives, except for the part where I find a guy and fall in love. Or at least like. AT LEAST! Is that asking too much?

Yeah, it happened. And it happened, and it happened, and it happened. If I had any concerns over whether or not I’m a good kisser, the ridiculous succession of kisses ‘laid on me’ by this last guy was enough to convince me I MUST be doing something right. Yay?

It.was.awful. Just horrible. Disgusting and wet and slimy and like he was chewing on my face and trying to swallow my tongue. It’s my tongue, you can’t have it! My mouth was actually DRY after. He had sucked all the saliva out of it!

But to backtrack. Here’s how the evening went. First of all, he texted to say he’d be a half hour late, and then texted again to say he’d be even later, which he was. Finally at 7:45pm he showed up, in a fleece polo and jeans. Which was fine for the pub-esque venue we were at, but in a black sweater, white flared skirt and thigh-high black suede boots all made up, I felt a little overdone.

He sent the waitress away three times, neglecting his menu an had to be prompted by me to actually look at it nearly a half hour into the date. Then he grilled her on salad dressing choices. He didn’t want to pay extra for Caesar salad so he ordered the house salad…with Caesar dressing.

Then there was the conversation. And admittedly, yes, this was the best conversation out of the three, but it was also tricky and slightly condescending. He kept telling me what I SHOULD think and SHOULD do. I mentioned that I was trying to do more strength training at the gym during the winter months because I couldn’t run outside and he told me that I should really be lifting weights directly and not doing other exercises or using machines. Umm, dude, you’re kind of scrawny to begin with, what are you telling me about how to work out?

THEN! Oh, and this gets good. I had mentioned in our text correspondence that I could balance a spoon on my nose. He INSISTED I do this at the dinner table, goaded me by saying if I was too embarassed that he would ask for a spoon from the kitchen himself, AND THEN told the waitress that I didn’t like eating with forks so to bring a spoon as well. THEN, when the spoon didn’t ‘stick’ because it was too heavy and shallow, he teased me, mockingly, saying I was a ‘real disappointment’ and had to make it up to him. Yeah, a real winner.

The evening continued its downward trajectory as he continued to belittle every other thing I said and challenge me on certain points.

He asked if I want to play pool and I had to stop myself from screaming ‘NO’ at the top of my lungs. He took forever to eat his food, and THEN took me up on my offer to pay my half. And it’s not that I mind paying, I do consider myself a feminist, BUT I’m also a little old-fashioned and appreciate a good show of chivalry – and he obviously thought he was so charming.

He also talked about it being easier to go home with a girl, whose parents weren’t conservative and didn’t mind having strangers over in the daughter’s bedroom having sex. Forget about my parents, I’M that conservative. Yeesh.

After he had continued to drone on so that the credit card machine timed out and he blamed the waitress (I tipped her like 40%), he led me to the pool room saying he would test my coordination, which I had claimed was awful.

While he was in the bathroom, I texted my sister to come pick me up in 20 minutes. I was going to give the guy a chance, after all, isn’t that the cliche cheesy thing to do with a girl on a date? ‘Teach’ me how to play pool so he could put his arms around me? But before he could even do that, he told me he was going to test my ‘coordination’ at kissing and came at me.

I accepted. What could I do? There was no way out, and I was still trying to be a good sport. I think maybe I like being ‘cold’ and a snob better. Actually, I’m sure of it. As I mentioned at the beginning of this post, it was awful. He kind of closed his lips over mine and slid them together before probing his tongue into my mouth. My eyes were open, WIDE open, the entire time. I did NOT want to be in the moment. I wanted to be anywhere BUT the moment. I kind of tried to do what he was doing and move my lips and tongue in a similar fashion but it went on FOREVER. Finally, FINALLY, I broke it off and asked him how my ‘coordination’ was, and that he needed to hurry up and teach me pool before I had to go. Such a coquette. He kept ‘sweeping’ me up, and grabbing my waist.

At one point he even cupped my face and asked me if I knew that my eyes were the same colour as my hair. First of all…its a wig. Second of all, my eyes are hazel and heterochromic, meaning they’re green in the middle. So my hair is green? Gee thanks.

He was NOT great at pool. And having never played it more than once, he only beat me by a point – and that was with me not even trying to play seriously.

My dad ended up being the one to pick me up, and his parting words to me? ‘It’s a shame its not your sister, I guess there’s not going to be a goodbye makeout sesh. SESH? SESH?? You bet your ass there isn’t going to be a goodbye makeout sesh. Thank God it was my father, who looked homeless as he was wearing car-repairing clothes and is growing out his beard for Movember, which makes him look completely homeless and shady.

Ewww. I rolled down the car window once we were gone and spit out of it. There were sandwich crumbs in my mouth and I wasn’t the one who ordered a sandwich.

So…first kiss experience was a bit of a nightmare, but what else should I expect given how fabulously everything else has gone?

There’s a post-date video blurb below that gives you the immediate aftermath details. I warn you, it gets ugly.

But you want to know the real kicker? HE HASN’T EVEN CALLED! Nothing, two and a half days later. NADA. You think after everything that he got out of the date, he’d be MORE than eager to continue. Was it that I was easy? That I let him kiss me on a first date? Honestly, I feel a little roughly treated. And my mouth is still sore from the sting of Listerine in a mouth scrubbed raw. I’ve also felt dizzy, achy and nauseous since then so I think I might have picked something up. The way I feel, it might as well be an STD.

The next day I went to two church Christmas sales, so I drowned my sorrows in an entire carrot cake and about 5 lbs. of shortbread. At this rate, I’ll just pity-eat all the weight back and then I won’t need to worry about guys wanting to kiss me. How do I groan dramatically through a keyboard.

But, now I’ve been on a date. Now I’ve been kissed…Now I can begin my life of spinsterdom. It has never felt so good to stay in on a weekend night, alone in my pajamas with a plate of shortbread at my side. I think it might be love.

UPDATE: He texted back…and he mentioned the spoon trick again. Now where oh where am I thinking of putting that spoon?
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Ding, Dong, the Bitch Isn’t Dead

Hey everyone! No, I have not fallen over a cliff, walked under a bus, been kidnapped or joined a cult. My absence can simply be explained by the existence of other absences – guys, to be exact. I’m afraid I may have run out of guys within a 30 mile radius (as per my settings as I haven’t returned to driving yet post-surgery). The infamous ‘they’, aka my doctors and specialists have also been playing around with my medication doses, meaning I’ve felt like I’ve been smushed against the windshield like the plump little bug I am. It’s brutal, actually. My current dose is now below the human average, meaning the lack of hormone in my body makes it think it is dying and act as such.

But enough about me, and now more of me. If you have read through my litany of complaints as seen above, and have reached here. CONGRATULATIONS! You are officially more supportive than my family. Thank you for ‘listening’.

The short version of this diatribe can be found in the video below, neatly condensed into 3 minutes for when you’re in need of a little Molly, (me, not the drug) on the go.

But I will continue in text form here. Honestly, I went out with my best friend last night who I don’t get to see very often, and between listening to her sexual escapades (she’s not a slut, but compared to me EVERYONE whose private bits have been glimpsed by man (or woman) I consider to be the far more sexually versed.

And herein lies the problem.

At 24, I have reached an age now where I am not going to change myself for anyone. In small ways sure, and in terms of taking time for someone else, yes. But being older than a starry-eyed teen, I know who I am and what I like. Even if knowing what I like means knowing what I DON’T like. And right now? Honestly? Between trying to become a ‘real person’ again following invasive brain surgery and taking 4 difficult university courses and staving off side effects of medication that keeps being changed to try and jumpstart my pituitary gland, I have neither the time nor the desire to be dating right now.  Maybe it’s the same reason I don’t own a dog. I’m too busy trying (unsuccessfully or not, you choose) to take care of myself. I’m learning who am again. In a sense it’s like I’m dating myself. Wondering and worrying about this or that and how I’m going to react.

I’m also getting over an eating disorder, which left me 100 lbs. lighter, and a lot more messed up. I equate my weight now, with my subsequent level of success and worth as a human being. And I know that’s wrong. I simply have a skewed self-image and an all-consuming fear of slipping back to where I used to be. And it’s hard to hate yourself, your past self OR your present self. Oh, God, I’m a mess. It’s a blessing that I can hide behind a keyboard and write. I can bare my soul without baring my body for the world to flagellate. Ugh, now my fingers are taking me down a road I’m not sure I’m ready to go down. Running sounds good right now. All the responsibilities that are being re-assigned to me as I heal are almost unbearable, because as a perfectionist at heart, it is the hardest thing not to be able to put my best foot, or work forward, and portray, accurately, who I am and want to be.

Does any of that sound like a person you would want to date? would break up with me if I could.

There were two guys I was talking to. One I thought was my soul mate, because he listed Disney movies as his favourite and quoted Scar from the Lion King. He also worked in communications, and seemed like just an all-around nice guy who wasn’t going to bore the hell out of me on the first date like my previous (and only) dates had. Except he was 32. Eight year difference, but my grandparents are 7 years apart, so I went with it. But I think I may have scared him off with my slightly off-beat sense of humour and unnerving intensity. Story of my life…look at the picture of conversation below and let me know what you think. The other guy who I was less interested in, only 4 years my senior, asked me out two days ago and I said yes after not seeing the message for two days and haven’t heard back. So I may have screwed up that one as well.

Bollocks.

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Bye, Bye, Brad

 

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For all my agonizing, I got a whole 3 characters in response. Nice! What to think…
Maybe a shorter note next time? Oh well, practice makes perfect, right?


If you read my last post, you’ll understand when I say that waffles make parting such sweet sorrow. And this was no different. It’s also probably a questionable action when the girls jumps in to say she’ll handle the cheque. That, that right there is called guilt.
BOOM, you’re over.

At least this time I got close to kissing. Lip to cheek contact is half the battle right?

This was actually a really hard text to write, and I put it off for a day and a half. Not to be cruel, but because I just wasn’t sure. He’s a nice guy (kind of), and he’s not bad looking persay, it’s just that on a deep personal level I know we aren’t compatible based on the conversations we’ve had.

When he talks about his job, he sounds so indifferent. Like he does what he’s supposed to and nothing more, maybe even less. He was talking about training and re-certifying, which he has to do every 2 years, and he made it sound like a joke. Now I just had to renew my CPR for a volunteer position and I know I felt like that was a bit of a joke at times – but ultimately, I listened because what I was hearing could concern a person’s life. For a corrections officer, I can only imagine scenarios that require first-aid or safety training happen 100x more often. From the way he spoke, he just sounded as though he didn’t care and talked about real situations that had happened where he just stood back away from the action, only to use it later as what he found a ‘funny’ story. I’m not laughing.

I’m the kind of person who when she starts a job, or was a student in school, I did my best to get a ‘gold star’ on my homework. I was always the achiever, the nerd and teacher’s pet and I think I need someone who has that sense of ambition and drive, because that nerdiness for me translated into a hard-working young woman who wants all the information she can get and uses it to make things better or more efficient. Whoever I date or marry doesn’t have to have a high ranking job in business or finance. He could be a plumber or a Wall Street whiz kid as long as he works hard and always tries to do better – at least 90% of the time because I too will admit to checking my personal email or my Facebook account at work when it was slow. But even when talking about his hockey team, he doesn’t sound passionate, and he admits to sitting back and not trying when he thinks failure is inevitable. I need someone who will stand alongside me doing everything necessary to make things better on a personal and a humanitarian level.

So now we know. Ambition and drive are on the necessary qualities list.

But now I’m done blaming Brad, and I want to move on to myself. The reason it took so long to break it off with Brad (unlike David, where I literally texted him on the way home) was because I wasn’t sure if there was something wrong with myself. And I wanted to do a little self-searching in case I was making a mistake cutting it off after the second date.

I know I can be bossy, can come across too intense or passionate about things/people/topics I care about. And I know I have a certain fear of commitment so I had to make sure this wasn’t just a knee-jerk emotional reaction to run before things got serious (because yes, to me, a third date would tip the ‘relationship’ into a serious thing for me because of the reasons above).

So here’s where the secret comes in…

I did something you prooooobably shouldn’t do on your dates.

I recorded it.

Not through video, only audio so that no one would ever know it was him in case it ever became leaked before I could delete. But I didn’t do it to trip him up in any way, I wanted to study my own behaviour and responses on the date. If I did or said anything ‘wrong’ that would cause me to write off the relationship because I had somehow tanked it, subconsciously or otherwise.

So I listened to the first 45 minutes of our date (before my phone died and stopped recording, and I listened to the things he said and my reactions or responses. I listened to see if I interrupted, or spoke over him, or tried to lead where I should defer (this crosses boundaries with my beliefs on women’s rights an social stereotypes on how a woman should act on a date, but that’s another post for another time.

So I listened. And other than realizing that my fake laugh sounds awful to myself (although apparently not to others because I’ve actually been complimented multiple times on my laugh, and in suffering from depression, real true laughter from myself is rare so I know its referring to the fake version), I couldn’t find anything wrong. I could hear when the conversation stalled slightly, so in desperation I started talking about the possible leak in the roof, and I heard when I embellished or changed the truth slightly so that I could use the memory in conversation. But I didn’t hear a single thing that would change my mind about Brad.

The real problem is. I WANT A THIRD DATE! I just don’t want it with him. I’ve worked so hard (yes, hard, because dating and socializing like this is hard for me) and I don’t want all that effort and banter and smiles and outfit choices to go to waste!

I don’t want to start at square one.

But at the same time, I know I can’t lead Brad on. It’s not fair. He’s 28 and is probably looking for something serious, which I can’t give him. I can actually see us dating for several months, but ultimately, I know it’s not going anywhere.

But this also means I’m sliding backwards down a slope, even if I’m not meant to be on that particular slope, and that feels like failure to me. I had a goal of being kissed, of finding someone who I wanted to run to instead of away from. Now I just feel like I’m running in circles, and there’s only one person out there who can straighten me out. Or in my sister’s words, ‘chill me out’. I just wish I could find him.

Someday my prince will come…but it seems like he has a terrible sense of direction.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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All Shined Up & Ready to Go…Home

All guys want to hear the words, “take me home”. But in this case, the conversation would have gone more like:

Me: “Take me home…”

Guy: “Ok, cool”

Me: “No, I mean my home…”

Awkward silence…

Based on my previous posts,  I know you’re thinking, “Yeesh girl, give the guy a chance!” And I am! I promise!

AM going out with him again.

SECOND DATE ALERT! SECOND DATE ALERT!

So what does this mean? It means this evening didn’t go so badly. After we got into the restaurant, we were seated by a nice window overlooking the marina. Well, okay, his seat was facing the waterfront. My view was a broken down boathouse and my date.

So let’s talk about him.

He at least LOOKED like his eHarmony picture, although I’m beginning to think guys lie about their height like girls like about their weight. So I guess the common rule would be to add or subtract 30% in either case.

He ordered an appetizer which I hated, so I had to put my acting/miming skills to use and pretend to dip the chip I was holding into the pink, squishy seafood dip. Blech.

It seemed to take forever for him to make a choice via the menu, but I’m typically no different, so I can’t judge. It’s only the fact that there was one thing on the menu under 600 calories, so we went with that – dressing on the side.

Conversation was really slow at first, and I mean really slow. With a lot of silences in between. At least eHarmony date #1 was good at keeping up the conversation even if it was boring. But he relaxed as the dinner went on (the beer probably helped) and we started chatting back and forth about his job and his hockey league and my defending my favourite shows on Netflix (if you need a good rec, Once Upon a Time is like the fairytale version of How to Solve a Murder. SO GOOD!) Wow, I used capitals and exclamation marks there, it’s a little sad that I’m more passionate about a tv show than my evening with a potential partner. But that just goes to show you how good the show is, and how lacklustre I found the date. Even so, he did have a couple things going for him.

He was steadily employed, had a car, had a decent friends group with whom he played hockey on the weekends (so cute, boys and their sports…) AND he didn’t physically repulse me. So I’m counting that as a win!

Evidently, I impressed him too as he was quick to follow up and suggest a second date. And I agreed, especially after he called my outfit ‘pretty hot’. I am a real sucker for a compliment…must work on that and self esteem. See texts below:

 

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But honestly? Although I WANT this to work out, I have that same niggling feeling, and I know in my heart of hearts that we’re not a match. But I also don’t want my family and friends to think I just dismiss every guy after a first date and not give them a second chance once they’ve got over their nervousness of a first date.

So we’ll see. But I can’t help thinking that our next time together will be one of goodbyes. That’s why I suggested going out the day after he asked. Because I didn’t want to spend the week waiting for what I kind of knew would be the inevitable. See? I told you I had that nasty fear of commitment. But I’m going, I’m going…but I’m also probably leaving.

 

 

 

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First Date Jitters Taste a Lot like Valium

Picture A) Me looking uncertain as hell waiting Picture B) My established 1st date outfit


Alright, here we go again, although I just can’t get excited about it. But I’m here, sitting by the waterfront waiting for the clock to roll around to 4:30pm. Just like with David, I’m jotting down my thoughts as I wait, although there’s a big difference. The first time my heart was about to jump out of my skin and my thoughts were racing. This time I’m surprisingly calm, although my mind is still a jumble of thoughts. Is it a bad sign that I’m not, as I was before, on the edge of my seat? I try to tell my brain not to be so pessimistic. I need it to not be pessimistic so I can give this guy a fair chance. After all, I can’t give up on the idea of love and dating after one date. Straighten up, Molly! I tell myself. You’re going to put your best foot (or boot, in this case) forward and start fresh. No negative thoughts. Alright, I look down and re-read what I’ve written:

So I’m sitting here, by the water, usually my happy place, in the same outfit I wore on my first date. It wasn’t a great date, but he did ask me out again although I said no so I’m wondering if this outfit is lucky or cursed…

But, waiting once again, I can’t quite believe I’ve become jaded from my one and only other date experience. Which wasn’t even really that bad. But instead of having butterflies or hyperventilating, I just feel an almost dull sense of dread. Maybe it’s time to take one of the special blue pills in my purse (no, not Viagra!). But I’m just kind of in a ‘let’s get this over with’ mindset, which is NOT what I want to have, not at this stage, not yet. We’re about to have dinner, but the only thing I’m hungry for is the relief I felt at the end of my first date knowing that it was over and I didn’t have to do it again.

Maybe it’s the depression speaking, but I’ve been thinking a lot about the idea of ‘spinsterhood’. Society’s made it such a dirty word. It’s true that in this day and age women don’t need men as providers – of income OR sperm. Both can be acquired separately from a bank of sorts, and separately from a relationship or a marriage. I’m not saying I don’t believe in the idea of marriage, I do! My multiple wedding Pinterest boards and the stack of Harlequin novels hidden under my bed will tell you that.

But what if because of the many different factors that pertain to me, I’m simply not made for marriage, and marriage isn’t made for me?

I know this is only my second date ever, but I was walking home one day, and watching these couple of high school kids in front of me. These children, because that’s what they still are. These children holding hands were obviously together as a couple. They obviously felt something that I never have, even being eight or so years their senior. I didn’t learn to crawl, I couldn’t learn to ride a bike. Perhaps like those milestones, those kind of romantic feelings don’t exist in me. I only feel the ghosts of them in my imagination.

Is it that I’ve forgotten what companionship feels like?

Because of so many things that have been going on in my life, it’s been such a long time that I’ve been without close friends. I’ve become self-sufficient emotionally and psychologically so that the lack of human contact doesn’t hurt.  Doesn’t torture my soul like it once did.

Now who’s going to take the time to fix that mess? That mess being me.

Who’s going to fix that mess indeed? I only wish I knew. Maybe the answer is waiting for me in the guy I see parking his Nissan Altima in the parking lot. Who knows?

Certainly not me.

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The First…and the Final?

Drrrrrumroooooll please!………………aaaand one sad balloon floats down from the roof. No fireworks, no cheers, no magic and no explosions…not even a spark.

By Golly, Miss Molly, what have you gotten yourself into?

Okay, so this wasn’t IT. I mean, I didn’t really expect for the first guy I went out with to be ‘the one’, but it would have been nice to experience even a molecule of attraction. But that didn’t happen. It’s generally not a good sign when you’re walking down the street and looking at nearly every other guy and thinking that you’re more attracted to them than the guy you’re currently with. Yeah, it was that bad.

And he wasn’t terrible, there was just nothing. Not a single ounce of chemistry. Oh sure, I worked hard to be charming, create banter, be funny. And after years of practice doing this I know I’m good at it. But after a certain point, a certain silence just kind of falls between the two of you and you’re desperately looking around you for something, ANYTHING to comment on. So I went with city tourism and architecture. Fascinating, I know. But it was something.

I keep trying to find reasons to justify my dislike. But I really can’t. He paid for dinner and walked me to the train station (I thought I had escaped at this point, but then he waited with me until the train actually came…more silence). I just didn’t like him.

If I had to give you ONE reason, it would probably be this. Although he was admittedly diligent in keeping up the conversation when I let it die, it just didn’t seem like he was really interested or invested in our date. It just kind of felt like it didn’t matter to him that I was sitting across from him.

Is it too much to ask for me to WANT my date to WANT to be there. To be with me?

Anyway, my panic-stricken self wrote down some notes on the train ride downtown, so I’ll share them with you for a lark as you see my brain go into override mode.

So here we go, this is Molly, blogging LIVE from the edge of her seat (literally, she’s on a train) before, and during, her first date.

Tuesday, October 10 2017
15:47pm EST

Oh boy, Yikes. Oy vay, aye carumba, dios mio, oh dear God. WHAT have I done? I am barrelling towards my destiny on a GO train. So, this is love, people. I’m going to repeat myself now. WHAT have I done?? There is an hour and fifteen minutes left until I am supposed to meet this guy. I don’t even know his last name! Admittedly I know enough from our text conversations to be able to track him down if he wasn’t lying about himself. But I wouldn’t do that…at least, not yet anyways.

What am I doing? What am I thinking? I’m in full panic mode and I’m chewing gum so I don’t grind my teeth so hard they fall out. And that is NOT cute. Having no teeth is not a good look. I’m now using the gum to deep clean my gums and shine my teeth. Is this what desperation looks like? I’m a mess. How do I ‘people’ again? I think I’ve lost my ‘peopling’ skills., or at least they are escaping me for the moment.

How do you even greet someone you’ve only met over the internet and through texts? Do you shake hands? Is that weird? But standing there doing nothing seems kind of awkward. Waving. Is that a thing? We’re two stops away now. Why can’t I feel my feet? No, actually I can’t feel them!! Oh. It’s because I had them crossed on the seat over from me. But it still feels like all my bodily functions will soon fail me.

My (supportive??) younger sister cheerfully texted me to tell me to keep the data on my phone on so that she could GPS track me if I was kidnapped…Then my dad texted the same thing. I think they think I’m nuts. Maybe I am? Maybe, I’ll take off my wig and leave it as a clue so the dogs can smell it and find me.

(I apologize if this post seems erratic, but I wanted you to experience every feeling I have as I do this. Potentially so you don’t make the same mistakes. Now I’m making myself sound as though I’m martyring myself. Saint Molly, has a ring to it don’t you think?)

Anyway, that’s what you get when I blog LIVE, with no editing, exposed to the real me. Also, reminding myself to breathe is taking up a lot of valuable brain space.

This is possibly due to my naivete, but isn’t kissing ridiculously unhygienic? I mean…things squishing, fluids exchanging, where the hell do I put my tongue if his is in my mouth? Do I kind of arm wrestle it with him or am I submissive?

Oh man, I want an escape plan, but I purposely prevented myself from making one ahead of time for fear I’d run. And that’s probably a good thing too since all I can think about is texting some lame-ass excuse, taking off all this makeup and running home with my tail between my legs, bitch that I am.

‘Coward’, I tell myself, where will you be then, huh? Right back at the beginning, dateless and depressed with no prospects or hope.

Damn, I’m going to have to go through with this. Please say a prayer that I don’t wet myself completely before the night is over?

Also, despite having never met David (that’s his name, FYI in case I forgot to mention it), I feel guilty for carrying on a second eHarmony conversation with a match named Brad. Is this how online dating works? Giving someone ‘permission’ or make it socially acceptable to talk to two guys with the same ultimate goal of finding romance? Any thoughts?

If he asks, I wouldn’t deny it. I’d say casually that I’d started talking to someone else early on when we were still getting to know each other.

Ugh, this is exhausting. I’m sweaty. You know what’s NOT exhausting, is less expensive and does NOT require travelling or dressing up or meeting a stranger. SITTING ON MY COUCH. It calls to me. It’s sweet, upholstered and open-armed embrace a siren song to my tortured mind.

We’re here.

It ended like this:

IMG_0500e

And you know the rest. So this princess’ lips are left pouting, and NOT in a kiss.

This time.

But that’s life, and that’s me: Molly. Stay tuned! XOXO

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Miss Matched: Finding my Frog

Before any of this dating stuff happened, I was faced with the challenge of introspection by the powers-that-be at eHarmony. I had to answer a series of questions and answers, and rank statements in terms of their importance or how strongly they applied to me.

Oh boy. If I knew these answers I might not need this dating site in the first place!

Anyway, I’ll give you the breakdown.

Race: They gave me the options below.

It’s ok to match me with:

  • NO PREFERENCE
  • WHITE
  • HISPANIC / LATINO
  • BLACK / AFRICAN DESCENT
  • ASIAN / PACIFIC ISLANDER
  • INDIAN
  • CHINESE
  • NATIVE AMERICAN
  • ARABIC / MIDDLE EASTERN
  • KOREAN
  • JAPANESE
  • OTHER

Answer? All. I had to pause before I answered this. I don’t want to rule out anyone who’s a perfect match, but I know that probably about 80% of the men I’ve ever been attracted to have been white. So do I narrow the search in the hopes of finding someone I’m more likely to be attracted to? Or do I leave the search wide open in case my Prince Charming is a Pacific Islander? For the sake of this blog, I left it open. I’ll take the chance and kiss any colour frog that comes my way. Who knows? I could end up as Molly Shu or Molly Katsopoulis. You never know!

Religion: 

Unlike the Ethnicity section, I had to narrow down here. A similar belief system I believe is at the core of every successful relationship. I have met few couples who marry outside of their faith, and it has been obvious to me in the way we talked and interacted, there was a dis-harmony that showed itself in their speech and opinions that seemed to me like a recipe for disaster. Especially when/if it comes to having children. Which faith wins out? Whichever parent is more devout? And if both parents are truly devout then they must want their children to take on their religion for the sake of their eternal souls. Any parent who didn’t care about their child’s soul couldn’t be called a good parent or a proper member of their religion. There is very little middle ground to stand on here, and what there is is filled with landmines.

Children: Do I want them? Yes. Do I want ones ready-made? Is it selfish to say no?

So that’s a no. call me selfish but I want to start fresh, and kids at my age? Already? Call me old fashioned but that just poor planning and judgement on his end.

Descriptions:

We’re given lists of words to pick from and they consist of positive and negative attributes. For me, it played out like this.

Positives: I’m warm, witty, intelligent and caring

Negatives: irritable, not content, bossy, impatient

Okay, now maybe I don’t want to date me. Oy…

The last was tricky because it forced you to examine yourself completely objectively.

po

Other questions included the importance of education and income. But here’s the thing. I’m 24, still living in my parents house, graduated from university but off work for a year following surgery. My income right now is nil. My earning potential once I’m back on my feet is a far greater number if I return to the salaries I’ve previously earned. So that’s not quite a fair question to ask, especially at my age, when most of us are barely past students. So I chose ‘not very important’ as my answer, although I would typically analyze a man by his earnings to see his ambition or drive for what he does. It doesn’t matter what you do for a living, as long as you do it earnestly with that ambition and drive that show the kind of restless, searching spirit that always thinks about how he can succeed and drive forward in his career. That’s the kind of spirit that exists in the (still mostly imaginary) man I’ve been dreaming of. So this paragraph kind of answers both questions. Education is important only because it shows the ability to succeed on a level recognized by the general population. Intelligence, however, can be gained in many other ways besides school.

The consensus? Education is somewhat important. However intelligence is VERY important.

So what would your answers be? Or what words would you pick from the picture above to describe yourself? Did I answer right? Or are the questions fair?

Let me know!

XO, Molly

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Off the Table Topics (See above)

So I’m going through my list of things I shouldn’t add to my profile and probably not talk about on a first date, or a second, or a fifth and I start thinking (always dangerous, frequently warned not to). If a guy chooses whether or not to date me based on characteristics, likes or dislikes I can control or moderate that’s one thing. But there are certain things about yourself you cannot change (my obsession with Meryl Streep being caught between these two categories). For instance, some things I would not mention on a first date at this point in my life are as follows:

  1. The fact that I had brain surgery this year
  2. The fact that because of that brain surgery I lost all my hair
  3. Due to the above reasons, I wear a wig.

For a lot of guys, I feel they would want to stay away from someone who had brain surgery because they’re scared of the unknown – if I’m permanently mentally disabled or damaged and whether I would act and talk like a ‘normal’ person.

And the truth is, no. I don’t act and talk like a normal person. But that has nothing to do with the surgery, and everything to do with who I am as a person – unique unto myself.

And number 4 on the list:

4. I lost 100 lbs. last year

Now there are two ways you can look at this, 1. Oh my god, she’s going to gain all the weight back and be a ‘fatty’ again. and 2. Hey, you know that’s really impressive. It shows she has drive and discipline, and probably goes to the gym more often than I do.

But even if the answer to number 4 was positive, it still wouldn’t be something I would bring up as a subject in the beginning stages of a relationship eve if I did want to impress a guy with something I had done. So instead, I use the example of my having seen every episode of Law & Order SVU at least three times, which makes the transition to the next item on the list that much easier.

I also write, some original, some poetry and songs, but also fanfiction – which gets a terrible rap and yet so many I know have admitted to at least reading, if not writing it. I confess to being an active writer of both male/female relationships and female/female if the show warrants it (which some people think odd considering I’m straight/Christian) But there is in all reality a social stigma that causes misrepresentation of personality based on stereotyping.

The theme of unfair stereotypes travels over nicely into my next topic of mental health, which makes number six on the list. But in all seriousness, even as mental health becomes more and more of a visible issue and evokes more conversation surrounding it, no one still really like to talk about it. Especially the ones who ‘have it’. And guess what – I have it. Big time. I was diagnosed with depression when I was 13, with consecutive diagnoses of generalized and acute anxiety disorders which all led to a conclusive diagnosis of Bipolar Type II as soon as I turned 18, which is the youngest they are allowed to diagnose severe mental illnesses in more cases in Canada.

No one wants to date a ‘crazy’ girl with serious health problems who is prone to obesity, obsessive compulsiveness and irrationality even if it is a side effect of the disease requiring her to have surgery in the first place.

See? That could have been my profile on eHarmony too.

If a guy came to me with this laundry list of attributes on a first date, I’d probably run for the hills too!

My hair has started to grow back in, 6 months after surgery. But the rest of the items on this list will follow me for the rest of my life. And at some point, you need to reveal these items to the person you are in a relationship with or they will feel that you’ve been lying or hiding secrets from them. And it’s only fair to know what you’re getting into when you vow ‘for richer, for poorer, in sickness and in health’.

I’m curious to know whether it’s harder for men or women to reveal any ‘flaws’ about themselves & why? Is it truly due to social stigma and sexual stereotypes that we fear it?

So I have two questions for you, and please share your input both for my sake and for others reading this blog looking for answers and any other input you have about this topic.

What are your no-go’s when it comes to talking about yourself on a first date(s)?

How long into a relationship before you start divulging these private details?

If you feel like your partner has something to hide, how do you deal with it? Do couples have to know everything about each other?

 

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The Fairest of Them All

Ladies and Gents! Well actually just gents in this case, with this contender, although the last person I was hit on by previous to this post was female, very pretty – but still not my type. Welcome one and all to the ‘Selfie Olympics’, in one corner we have our first contender, Auburn hair, hazel eyes, fair skin and coming in at – erm, let’s not go there pounds, Molly M! Boasting a bachelors degree in Communications and Digital Media and a love for Scrabble, she’s drawn her seven letters and they spell R-O-M-A-N-C-E! At the other side of the arena, we have seemingly the other half of the female population, coming in at blonde, gorgeous, impossibly slim, doctorate holding and blindingly beautiful at just under a hundred pounds! She’s also holding a puppy & the Nobel Prize! We might as well just call her Mrs. Charming right now! Who will win at this game of love, lies, lead-ons and leave-offs? Why don’t you take a guess?

Sarcasm aside, no matter which Top 3 North American dating site you choose, the first thing any potential match sees is your picture. Which is understandable. We, as a society, are ultimately obsessed with looks, figure and form and place them before almost anything else except possibly income. I know I’m amongst many who claim ‘appearance doesn’t matter’ to them. But it does. It has to. As much as I place importance on the content of their character through reading their profile, if I don’t look at their picture and feel some sort of connection or to be cliché but truthful, ‘a spark’, they will be passed over and in eHarmony’s case, no smile will be sent their way, initiating potential interaction.

So after hours of going through selfies, and realizing I am MUCH more vain and narcissistic than I thought – something I’ll probably leave OFF my dating profile, I came to the conclusion that I could not do this alone. To Facebook! I shouted valiantly, selecting my final four choices and setting up a poll on the world’s most popular social media site – using the convenient excuse that it was for a ‘school project’ – which it is…kind of…technically. But more on the social stigma of using dating sites later, and the corroboration of that stigma with the age of user.

I’ll show you the four photos I picked out, and I want to hear your feedback. Which would you choose if you were me? And why? What does each minute detail of my appearance do to describe my character? Does curly/waved hair indicate a certain vanity or focus on appearance as I’ve obviously taken the time to do this? Same goes for make-up style: immaculate and model-perfect or natural but maybe does less to bring out your features? Does a tilted head project an air of innocence and curiosity? Does the Mona Lisa smile win out, mysterious and alluring, or do/will men prefer the open mouthed, teeth showing full grin. I’ll let you know next post which I chose to be my primary photo on the site, and which picture ‘won’ amongst family and friends on Facebook. But now I ask you, strangers of the internet who do not know me save for the details I’ve included in my posts. Will it be A, B, C, or D and why?

poll

Be brutal, there’s no way I can track you down!