Tag: singlelife

the art of being weird.

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Happy almost spring, everyone! I apologize for my lack of posting… it turns out that even when I’m not dating I keep myself way too damn busy. The next few weeks are going to be quite the whirlwind!

It is only a few days away from spring, and we have gotten about a foot of snow up my way. Fun times for this southern girl. Hopefully it’ll be over soon and we can get some damn sunshine.

Anyway, I’ve been having a few revelations lately and wanted to jot them down before they left me forever. I’ve been doing the no-dating thing for a couple of weeks now. So, let me just preface this, I will still go on dates, just no online dating. If I happen to meet someone organically, fair game. I am not seeking anyone or anything though. I really have tried to shift my focus to myself. I have found that when I was trying so hard to date, I was really looking for someone who could complete part of me, and make me feel whole, instead of focusing on feeling that way on my own. Now that I am looking at things through this new “I’mma do me” lens, that is glaringly obvious.

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ugh, my tum tum.

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Hey, it’s 2017, and guys are still the worst.

I was supposed to be going out on a date recently, and the guy cancelled on me last minute because he didn’t feel well.

This sounds so innocent and normal, right? Where could I possibly be going with this? Welp, let’s rewind a little bit.

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chivalry is dead, and no one even showed up to the funeral.

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Happy New Year, everyone! I hope that everyone had a safe and happy New Year’s Eve, and that 2017 is treating you well so far.

Mercury is in retrograde, so I’ve been staying in hermit mode for the past few days. I’m going to keep it low key this week too. I’ve also been doing a lot of thinking over the past week or so, which was triggered by the whole “New Year, New Me” bullshit that everyone pedals during the holiday season.

I am finally fed up with all the fuckboys out there, and maybe it won’t be a new year, new me phenomena, but I am completely done settling for their bullshit, giving them second chances, and exposing myself to people who are not worth my time. 

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no. cuffing. please.

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Warning: This post says fuck a lot.

Have you guys heard of this whole “cuffing season” thing? Some strange phenomenon where, during the winter months, these dumb ass boys decide they want to be in a “relationship” because you know…it’s cold, lonely, and generally depressing to be alone on the holidays? Apparently this is a thing. Seriously. Look it up. I’ll wait.

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here’s a post that is about me, and not boys.

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Okay, it’s maybe a little about boys. Well.. relationships, as always.

I’ve been doing okay with the whole dating thing. I met a guy who actually seems like a really good guy, which I feel like was getting tough and making me extremely bitter towards the whole dating scene. Great, right? Wrong! Have you met me?! I am the queen of overthinking everything, and I can break things so very easily. Sometimes, I even break them on purpose. I’ve mentioned before that I like to push people away. It’s like pushing a glass vase off of a shelf to see if it breaks. Guess what… it does! And then you’re all pissed off because you had this lovely glass vase and now, gone. Shattered. Kaput. 

Anyway, I haven’t done this yet with this one, but I have noticed something that I thought was worth writing about.

When my walls come down, theirs go up. I think this is because I start any relationship EXTREMELY guarded, and when I start letting someone in, they get this full 100% blast of Tempest that they maybe didn’t expect and certainly weren’t prepared for. Hence: walls. Like oh shit, this girl has a super strong personality and I don’t know how to human anymore! (They probably aren’t thinking that, but you get the gist…)

The new challenge I am now facing is how do I let enough of my true self shine through in the beginning, without feeling vulnerable and afraid to peek over my very well built and well maintained walls. In theory, I should start breaking some of them down. I know this. But guys, I have worked a LONG time on building these bitches up, the idea of tearing them down is terrifying.

Or could it be that I just haven’t met the right person that can handle the me that is scared, and hides, and is afraid to love, but also the me who is passionate, and brave, and over the top? Can I be allowed to have my walls sometimes, but still have someone see me as me? Is that a thing?

Until next time!

XOXO, Tempest.

you’re like, 12.

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…another one bites the dust.

I’m seriously, VERY..VERY close to getting myself to a nunnery. This dating shit is insanely terrible! The next one isn’t too bad, but, ugh. Read on.

This happens to be the most recent guy that I cut off. This guy, codename “Perv,” was extremely cute… except for this stupid goddamn earring. Like, really really cute..butttt also maybe a douche. But, because I thought he was cute and fun, I tried to overlook a lot of stuff. Until..ugh, I just couldn’t anymore. I’m sure you’re wondering, how did this guy get the name Perv? Letttt me just tell you.

This guy, at 33, had responses to general conversation that went something like this:

Tempest: Hey, just got done with hot yoga!

Perv: Oh, I bet you are soaking wet.

Or…

Tempest: Sorry I’ve been quiet, crazy busy at work today.. working on a new project.

Perv: I have a project you can work on.

 

And so on, and so on.

The strange thing is, this guy was completely normal in person. Funny, maybe even charming, did I mention cute? Very cute. But sweet baby Jesus, I felt like I was talking to a prepubescent teenager half of the time.

The other warning signs? If this guy wasn’t making an inappropriate sex joke, he couldn’t take any joke. I tried joking with him several times, and he would make a passive aggressive or condescending comment. Granted, this was via text, so I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt, but it got so bad once that I actually called him to clear things up because he responded in such a shitty way. But really, are you 12?

The straw that broke the camels back… apparently homeboy had a little bit of a drinking tendency. Every time I talked to him, he was on the way to the bar, or hungover, or starting to drink again early on. I am not one to judge anyone’s personal preferences, but you are in your 30’s, and it may be time to give that party life a break. What really did it in was when he chose to start his evening at a bar… an evening we were supposed to be meeting up. Instead of going home and changing out of his grungy construction clothes, he was “forced” into going to a bar, and therefore would be late to meet up with me. Yeah no.

By the way, when I told him I wasn’t going to meet up, he proceeded to tell me how put off he was that I decided not to meet up because he had gone out.

Really? Really dude? Do you honestly think that it’s okay to be late for a date because you needed to stop and get a drink?

Nah son. Cheers, I’m out.

..but did you die?

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Let’s take it from the top on some of my most fun Northeastern dating stories

This one actually isn’t too bad, but the situation irritated me enough to make it to my blog! I went out with a guy kind of randomly on Sunday. Yes, I met this person on the internet, and I KNOW I’m a huge hypocrite, having sworn off online dating at least 71,213 times. But, alas, times are hard for a girl with a strong RBF and an three+ inch height advantage. So, online dating it is.

This guy, for the purpose of anonymity, will be called “Mr. Unresponsive.” This is probably one of the least original nicknames I have ever come up with, because this guy is literally that terrible about responding, and that is the only memorable thing I took away from this encounter.

I’m being mean, I actually really enjoyed myself on the date, but because of what happened after the date, I want to kind of be a bitch about it. I’m a woman, so sue me.

Anyway, Mr. Unresponsive started off as a really bad communicator. Now, I know I am over the top with communication in most circumstances, so I do try to be a little forgiving, especially if I don’t really know someone’s communication style. Anyway, this guy wasn’t really giving me much in the initial chat on the app we matched on, and still didn’t give me a whole lot when we eventually moved to texting. But, I went with it. I thought to myself, hey, maybe it’s a good idea to meet someone with this little information and let it come out on the date, right? Wrong. This is a bad idea.

The date started a little rocky. About an hour before the date, I texted him to confirm we were still on (I do not want to drive and get stood up, yknow?) and he says “Yeah”. So about 30 minutes later I let him know I’m leaving. I don’t hear back from him, but that’s okay, I don’t really need a response.

We were meeting in his town, because me, being a motherfucking nice girl, offered to drive closer to him so he could pick his favorite spot. I am new to the area, after all, and like checking out new places. So, I drive to the place he picks which happens to be right smack in the middle of some goddamn festival.  Which means, there is no way to actually get TO the place. My GPS is all “turn left, turn left,” and I’m like damnit bitch I literally can’t. So, I pull over and text him. “Hey, I’m having trouble finding a way to get to this place, or finding somewhere to park, suggestions?” Nothing. No response. Mind you, it is now about 7:05, we were meeting at 7, and my last message to him was that I was on my way, which he also never responded to.

So, I call him. Natural reaction, right? No answer. So I start driving again, trying to at least decipher where the place is and what side street I can park on, in the middle of a festival, in the middle of a town that I know nothing about, in the dark, with anxiety levels rising through the roof. I was pretty irritated.

A few minutes later he calls back, as I am just finding a spot. He is pretty unapologetic when I’m like “Wow, you chose the most inconvenient place ever.” Anyway, I park and make my way to the restaurant.

First impression, he’s not a bad looking dude, not my normal type but he’s alright. We sit down, we eat, we talk, things seem to actually go pretty well, all things considered. It started off rough, but at the end, I actually felt like it was pretty good.

The date ends, and I head out. I text him to tell him I made it home, and had a great time and let me know if he would like to do it again sometime. No response.

Next day. No response.

Next day. I send him a message saying “How’s your day going?” I’m erring on the side of bold, because I know this guy is probably trying to ghost, and I’m just gonna put a feeler out. After all, he was a pretty shitty texter to begin with, so I try to give him the benefit of the doubt.

No response.

kanye.jpeg

A full goddamn 72 hours later, this guy finally sends something. At this point, I had already written him off as a punk ass bitch for ghosting. His message?

“I had a good time with you, but I didn’t feel a connection, good luck.”

Alright. So at first glance I think, okay, maybe he’s not a bad guy, at least he finally said something and didn’t leave me hanging. But then, I think about it.

I’m sorry, it took you SEVENTY-TWO HOURS to figure this out? You didn’t “feel a connection?” Is there some type of incubation period on connections that I don’t fucking know about? The fuck??

Anyway, it was one date, and definitely not worth any more of my time than I already wasted on this guy, so I just responded “You too, thanks!” Eat a dick. NEXT!

 

hopeless, not romantic

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Oh, dating. Dating, dating, dating, how you make me want to throat punch innocent people and steal candy from children. Dating really is the worst. As you may know if you’ve read a few of my posts before, I recently relocated. My stupid ass, as much as I have said I should NOT date, I am very very bad at it… decided to take a swing and go for it.

Guys, it still is a shit show. Dating is SO BAD.

So, I decided to share some of my misery with the interwebs in a new blog section called “Hopeless, Not Romantic”

Hopeless, Not Romantic will be your insight into just how bad the dating world is for a 30 year old divorcee. Just how bad men have become these days. Just how sad and miserable it is out here for a pretty decent girl. If you are in a struggling relationship, I implore you, check out Hopeless, Not Romantic…and you will understand how important it is to make the somewhat good ones work. If you are thinking about dating, I implore you, fucking don’t, it’s bad.

I hope that you find my adventures in dating to be amusing, and I look forward to sharing them! Someone really oughta benefit from this dumpster fire that I call a dating life.

 

flagged.

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The hardest thing sometimes in fledgling relationships is seeing red flags. And even harder than seeing the red flags are listening to them, and walking away from them when it’s smart to do so.

Historically, I have had a terrible time with part two of the above statement. I can see red flags all day, sometimes from a mile away, but I am a master at justification. This problem usually rears its ugly head with the emotionally unavailable… those signs are ALWAYS there, yet, do I listen? Nope. Neeewwwp.

On the flip side, are red flags always deal breakers? Do they have to be? Or are they things that one should simply be wary of and use as a warning to proceed with caution? After all, no one is perfect, and when you’re dating in your late 20s – early 30s, it’s really hard to find someone without SOME baggage, amirite?

Here’s the other tough part with red flags, and I know this isn’t something that only I have trouble with (lookin at you, B) – how do we filter out the REALLY bad red flags, the ones we should listen to and/or run away from, before we are emotionally invested in someone? Since these traits don’t always pop up in the first week or two of dating, how do we shield ourselves, while still being open enough to get to know someone? This shit is damn near impossible, people. Or maybe I’m bad at humaning, whatever. But that’s really the ultimate question… how do I know someone’s red flag is a deal breaker, and how do I abort mission before my own feelings are involved?

I don’t have the answers to this, obviously, but one thing I have learned is that people will generally tell you who they are, sometimes it’s just up to us to listen. When a guy says “I don’t have a girlfriend because I’m an asshole,” there’s a really good chance that said guy is, in fact, an asshole. Girls are just notoriously bad for hearing what we want to hear, or making excuses to make a square peg fit in a round hole. Oh well. C’est la vie.

Until next time,

xoxo, Tempest.

 

 

soulmatch.

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Let’s talk about soulmates. If you have found this supposed soulmate, hooray! Do not read any further, because I’m only going to piss you off. I don’t think that soulmates are probable. A good dream, yes, but a dream nonetheless. I talked about this over the weekend with my family and we all kind of came to this same conclusion (except my grandma, who decided mine was a boyfriend back in high school for some godawful reason, and oh by the way my aunt’s is her exhusband…**souuuullmatesss**)

Think about for a minute… if there is just ONE person that is made for you, in the ENTIRE WORLD. The whole world, for fuck’s sake. It’s a big world, guys. It’s kind of depressing to consider that there is just one person, that you are somehow magically supposed to find, and everything is magical and everyone lives happily ever after, right? What if your soul mate is someone who lives in a third world country off the grid, how are you supposed to meet them? Life finds a way..? (Yes, read that in Ian Malcolm’s Jurassic Park voice). The other bleak thing about this one-person-is-made-for-you theory is… what about all the people who really really love each other, but maybe.. it’s like a 99% match. Really great but.. not..quite. The soulmate theory means a shitload of people are just hanging out and settling for what is good enough.

I like the idea better, and think it’s much more probable, that instead of this one person we are supposed to find, that there are soul..matches. A soulmatch can be anyone who can just identify with your soul. It doesn’t have to be just one person, either, there could be multiple people, and maybe you’ll come in contact with them… and maybe you won’t. The point is, it’s possible. And it probably would create a lot more happy endings, if instead of trying to find this one unicorn, we find a soulmatch, or maybe multiple soulmatches throughout life, who can understand you for who you are. All your quirks and eccentricies and things that make you you, they can understand, support, and hopefully enrich.

I know at first glance this post seems bitter, but in fact, it’s optimistic. Finding a person in your life who can do this is inspiring, and the idea that it doesn’t have to be locked down to one person living in an igloo somewhere is encouraging. It makes me feel like there is something out there that can work, kind of like my current healthy and successful relationship with pizza. And anything that can rival pizza sounds like a damn good thing.

 

xoxo, Tempest.