There comes a time in every person's life when you are just not supposed to live with your family every day. It's a good thing. It's a natural thing.
Since achieving the age of 17 (which is how old I was when I started college) approximately 4 days has been my family time limit. I'm an adult. I have my own thing going on. I love my family dearly, I do. I really, really do. But they get 4 days before I'm ready to get back to my normal life.
I've currently been with family non-stop for over 2 weeks. Surprisingly, I still have hair.
We have, fortunately, been doing a multitude of different things. I went to a wedding (with my parents), I made an attempt at an Ironman, and now I've been with my brother, sis-in-law, and niece for Thanksgiving. Oh don't worry, the parents were here too, but they left yesterday.
2 whole weeks with family. I love them, but I'm going crazy. I even took a longer than normal shower today just so I could have a little extra breathing room. As I said, it's a natural thing for families to not live together when they're adults. And I feel fortunate that I get to see my family as often as I do, considering they live half way across the country from me. At the moment, I'm thinking that might not be far enough. And I'm planning on moving closer to these people???
But in reality, I do want to live closer to them again. When you're in more of your own routine, you can see them when you want, and it doesn't have to be 24/7/365. And I would actually get to eat the food that I choose, when I choose to eat it. I love my parents, but, well, let's just say they didn't exactly prevent me from weighing almost 300 pounds. They have gotten better since I have finally learned how to eat healthy...but my mom made me cookies. She wanted to try out a new recipe for vegan cookies that she found...which is great. But she made me cookies. And I'm trying to lose weight. Well...it's a good thing I'm taking a couple of weeks to be lazy and gluttonous before getting back home, and getting back to training, and losing weight. But the woman made me cookies. And bought a brownie mix to make over Christmas. Just so I could have something desert like to eat while I was there. Paying not attention to the fact that I try not to eat desert type stuff, because I can't just eat one cookies. I eat an entire box of cookies. So I have found if I don't eat any cookies, we are ok.
Wow...that was a rant. And totally away from the topic that I was planning to cover in this post.
So...moving on.
Holiday's...and family. Since I moved half way across the country, I haven't gotten to spend many holiday's with my family. so I should cherish every single one that I do actually get to spend with them. I often don't. In fact, one of the best holiday's that I can remember in recent history was Thanksgiving a year ago. I spent it alone. In my tiny apartment. I watched the parade. I went for a run. I made turkey burgers and drank beer. And I watched football. It was fantastic. And I didn't have to deal with family. Whom I do, by the way, love.
My problem with families started about 6 years ago when I became the mid-20's single girl...who also, at the time, weighed nearly 300 pounds. My brother and sis-in-law had been together for a couple of years, and were now planning their wedding. (And at the same time, several of my friends were also planning their weddings). So, I'm the single one. And when I look around the room, full of family, I can't help but feeling like the least loved person in the room.
Let me explain. My family consists of my parents...who after 37 years of marriage are still sickeningly in love. My brother and sis-in-law and niece (the first, and only grandchild) and me. I'm single. I have no children, and I no longer have the right to be called the baby of the family any more. Long story short...no one on that room looks at me like I'm it, I'm the one person in the room that they love more than anyone else in the world.
I'm used to it by now. This year hasn't bothered me as much as it has in years past. But it's still...hard.
I still want to remain positive...that someday...somewhere...someone will look at me that way. I want to think that this is still possible. As so many people tell me all of the time, 30 is still young. And I do think that this is possible. It just sucks waiting for it to be my turn.
Speaking of...now that we've covered the holiday's...let's chat about weddings for a bit. The other co-founder of the single girl's club is now married. 2 weeks ago. In our group of friends, I'm the only single one. There's one more that isn't married, but she's living with her boyfriend that's been around for a couple of years...so we're pretty sure they're going to get married sometime. While I was at the wedding, one of my friends looked at me and said that I would be next. Well...I wanted to say "of course I'm going to be next! I'm the only one left!" I didn't. But I really did want to say that. And...the bride aimed the bouquet at me. Fortunately, the groom's daughter was enough of the way in front of the pack that she caught it before I had to dodge it's path. Dodged a bullet there. Oh, and did I also mention that not only am I the only single one of my friends left...I was also the only single person above the age of 25 at this wedding? Well...I was.
Things can happen in the blink of an eye. And I'm sure before I know it, I'll be looking back wondering why I was so miserable being single for so long. Or at least wishing for a moment when I didn't have to share a bathroom with someone. But...for now. It really sucks being the single one.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Speed Dating 101
It's a good thing I'm an endurance athlete. Because speed dating is the marathon of first dates. How many times can I say "I'm training for an Ironman, and it's in 19 days" in one night?
Backstory: Earlier this year, I decided to not be "anti-dating" anymore, and right after that, one of my friends (who is married and has 2 kids) found a Groupon for speed dating. She suggested I give it a try. So I bought the Groupon. Not really wanting to go by myself, I finally convinced one of my single friends to go with me. We decided on a speed dating night for "Fit and Active Professionals." Perfect!
As soon as we signed up for this speed dating night, I kept wondering if we were going to run into any guys from our triathlon team. And I was also curious about the other girls that were going to be there. Not thinking that we would see any of the other girls on our team. Well...we did. When I walked in, there were 4 other girls from our team there. No guys that we recognized.
So we get the obligatory happy hour specials...because who really wants to go on 20 first dates sober? And then we get seated. I, somehow, end up in the back corner, on a low seat that you end up half laying down in. And there was a short table right in front of the seat, so my stupendously long legs somehow got folded around, and was, to say the least, not the most comfortable position to sit in for over an hour.
What is there to say about 20+ 4 minute conversations? They're basically all a blur. You get the basic introduction...hi...how are you? There were the standard conversations about what you do, why you chose the fit and active one. Is this your first time here? There were a couple of guys who seemed to have a quirky list of questions, like who your celebrity crush is. I'm not sure how that's an appropriate first date question...but it seemed to be a popular one. There was the guy who just ran the MCM last Sunday, and claimed to have been at mile 20 2 hours into the race. Yeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah....I believe that one. And then some of the most notable dates of the evening were older guys that seemed to be seasoned pros at the speed dating thing. Let's go from bad to worst. Bad: Old guy...clearly not fit or active. Talked about music a lot. I'm not sure I actually said anything the entire time. Worse: Old guy, wanted to be unique...so we talked politics. Worst: Middle aged guy, a little...sad. He kept talking about how he had had love in the past, and just kept trying to find that again. And all of the different ways that he had tried to find love again. I feel bad for the guy, but not something you want to hear on a first date.
So, the long story short is it was an entertaining evening. I'm glad I did it. But I'm 99.9% sure that I'll never see or speak to any of those guys ever again.
Backstory: Earlier this year, I decided to not be "anti-dating" anymore, and right after that, one of my friends (who is married and has 2 kids) found a Groupon for speed dating. She suggested I give it a try. So I bought the Groupon. Not really wanting to go by myself, I finally convinced one of my single friends to go with me. We decided on a speed dating night for "Fit and Active Professionals." Perfect!
As soon as we signed up for this speed dating night, I kept wondering if we were going to run into any guys from our triathlon team. And I was also curious about the other girls that were going to be there. Not thinking that we would see any of the other girls on our team. Well...we did. When I walked in, there were 4 other girls from our team there. No guys that we recognized.
So we get the obligatory happy hour specials...because who really wants to go on 20 first dates sober? And then we get seated. I, somehow, end up in the back corner, on a low seat that you end up half laying down in. And there was a short table right in front of the seat, so my stupendously long legs somehow got folded around, and was, to say the least, not the most comfortable position to sit in for over an hour.
What is there to say about 20+ 4 minute conversations? They're basically all a blur. You get the basic introduction...hi...how are you? There were the standard conversations about what you do, why you chose the fit and active one. Is this your first time here? There were a couple of guys who seemed to have a quirky list of questions, like who your celebrity crush is. I'm not sure how that's an appropriate first date question...but it seemed to be a popular one. There was the guy who just ran the MCM last Sunday, and claimed to have been at mile 20 2 hours into the race. Yeeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah....I believe that one. And then some of the most notable dates of the evening were older guys that seemed to be seasoned pros at the speed dating thing. Let's go from bad to worst. Bad: Old guy...clearly not fit or active. Talked about music a lot. I'm not sure I actually said anything the entire time. Worse: Old guy, wanted to be unique...so we talked politics. Worst: Middle aged guy, a little...sad. He kept talking about how he had had love in the past, and just kept trying to find that again. And all of the different ways that he had tried to find love again. I feel bad for the guy, but not something you want to hear on a first date.
So, the long story short is it was an entertaining evening. I'm glad I did it. But I'm 99.9% sure that I'll never see or speak to any of those guys ever again.
Monday, October 31, 2011
The Worst First Date Ever
We've all had bad dates, right? If you haven't, you're lying. But no matter how horrible they are, you have to laugh at them, or you'll probably just go crazy. I've had, well, I wouldn't say "a lot", of first dates, but I've had enough, that I have a top 5+ list of bad first dates. I'm actually sure my list of bad first dates outnumbers the list of good first dates.
#5 - I'm not a girl that requires a 5 star meal, a limo, or even spending money, period, on a first date. I do require that you put a little bit of effort into things, and, you know...a little romance now and then. Number 5 starts off with a guy that was originally from California, who asked me out in January. The original plan for the date was that we meet at a restaurant. At the last minute, he called to ask if I would come to his place, and he could make dinner for me. Ok, so this might SOUND like a nice, romantic date. It's his reasoning that gets this date added to the list. It was too cold for him to go outside and walk to the restaurant, so it was a much better idea for me to get out in the cold, and walk to his place. You don't win any chivalry points for making the girl do something that you refuse to do yourself.
#4 - We actually have a 3 way tie for number 4. And they're bad for the same reason. One word: Parents. Boys, when you're trying to impress a girl, it's normally not a good idea to include springing the parents on her, especially not on the first date. If you have any more questions about this, then you should probably lock yourselves in your parents basement, which is where you're probably living anyway. But the mere fact that we do have a 3 way tie makes me question the guys that I've dated, and brings about one more disturbing trend. Let's not go any further here, because if we do, I may just get even more depressed about my sad love life.
#3 - Again...lack of effort boys. I understand if you're going to dinner in a town that you're not overly familiar with. Before the date, it's not even a bad idea to get recommendations from the girl if she is more familiar with the area. But showing up, having no clue what you're going to do. Bad form boys. And in this particular case, really bad form. Had no idea what restaurants were available. Obviously hadn't made a reservation. Had no idea about the type of food in the restaurant we did choose. And then we leave the restaurant, and get to the crowded movie theater, and I end up getting the leftovers knocked out of my hand. Oh, and to top things off, he was the guy that told me everything I wanted to hear at first, so I was really excited to go out with him again. It wasn't until 3 weeks later he finally informed me that he was a raging Republican (when he originally told me that he was a bleeding heart liberal). And I only wasted 3 weeks of my life.
#2 - Ok...this ones partially on me. Partially. Again...lack of effort for restaurant selection. And I had been under the impression that we were only getting coffee, so I ate lunch before hand. Not great qualities to the first date. But I looked good. I had on a sweater, and my favorite jeans. And what happens as we were walking across the street? I fall on my face. Rip a huge hole in the knee of my jeans. And I was mortified. Needless to say, there wasn't a second date.
#1 - I could stop with one phrase, and most people would understand why this was the worst date ever. Pink. Shirt. He wore a pink shirt on a first date. I don't do pink. I own a few things that are pink. But on boys...uhm...just no. And it was pink, pink. Like, baby pink. And he had come directly from work...carrying all of his work stuff. But the horridity didn't stop there. It kept getting worse from the pink shirt. Ok, so he did a good job on restaurant selection. I will give him that. And the evening started off ok. We chatted, things were going ok. And then all of a sudden, the switch flipped. I realized that I was in the middle of the date where it's like the guy read an article on what NOT to do on a first date...and he did them all. Ok, so if you have to use the restroom in the middle of a date. That's fine. Don't tell me that water really runs through you. Politics. Money. Family. And specifics about all of the topics. Oh, and how he went a little crazy when he was traveling through Europe. At some point, I think he got frustrated with me because I was having such a bad time, I just kind of shut down. But what do you expect when you're on the worst first date ever. I will say one thing...one redeeming quality. He did walk me home. Not that I really want him to know where I live. But it was polite. But I'm glad I've moved from that apartment.
At least I do have the good humor to look back on all of these evenings, and be able to laugh at them. Oh my.
#5 - I'm not a girl that requires a 5 star meal, a limo, or even spending money, period, on a first date. I do require that you put a little bit of effort into things, and, you know...a little romance now and then. Number 5 starts off with a guy that was originally from California, who asked me out in January. The original plan for the date was that we meet at a restaurant. At the last minute, he called to ask if I would come to his place, and he could make dinner for me. Ok, so this might SOUND like a nice, romantic date. It's his reasoning that gets this date added to the list. It was too cold for him to go outside and walk to the restaurant, so it was a much better idea for me to get out in the cold, and walk to his place. You don't win any chivalry points for making the girl do something that you refuse to do yourself.
#4 - We actually have a 3 way tie for number 4. And they're bad for the same reason. One word: Parents. Boys, when you're trying to impress a girl, it's normally not a good idea to include springing the parents on her, especially not on the first date. If you have any more questions about this, then you should probably lock yourselves in your parents basement, which is where you're probably living anyway. But the mere fact that we do have a 3 way tie makes me question the guys that I've dated, and brings about one more disturbing trend. Let's not go any further here, because if we do, I may just get even more depressed about my sad love life.
#3 - Again...lack of effort boys. I understand if you're going to dinner in a town that you're not overly familiar with. Before the date, it's not even a bad idea to get recommendations from the girl if she is more familiar with the area. But showing up, having no clue what you're going to do. Bad form boys. And in this particular case, really bad form. Had no idea what restaurants were available. Obviously hadn't made a reservation. Had no idea about the type of food in the restaurant we did choose. And then we leave the restaurant, and get to the crowded movie theater, and I end up getting the leftovers knocked out of my hand. Oh, and to top things off, he was the guy that told me everything I wanted to hear at first, so I was really excited to go out with him again. It wasn't until 3 weeks later he finally informed me that he was a raging Republican (when he originally told me that he was a bleeding heart liberal). And I only wasted 3 weeks of my life.
#2 - Ok...this ones partially on me. Partially. Again...lack of effort for restaurant selection. And I had been under the impression that we were only getting coffee, so I ate lunch before hand. Not great qualities to the first date. But I looked good. I had on a sweater, and my favorite jeans. And what happens as we were walking across the street? I fall on my face. Rip a huge hole in the knee of my jeans. And I was mortified. Needless to say, there wasn't a second date.
#1 - I could stop with one phrase, and most people would understand why this was the worst date ever. Pink. Shirt. He wore a pink shirt on a first date. I don't do pink. I own a few things that are pink. But on boys...uhm...just no. And it was pink, pink. Like, baby pink. And he had come directly from work...carrying all of his work stuff. But the horridity didn't stop there. It kept getting worse from the pink shirt. Ok, so he did a good job on restaurant selection. I will give him that. And the evening started off ok. We chatted, things were going ok. And then all of a sudden, the switch flipped. I realized that I was in the middle of the date where it's like the guy read an article on what NOT to do on a first date...and he did them all. Ok, so if you have to use the restroom in the middle of a date. That's fine. Don't tell me that water really runs through you. Politics. Money. Family. And specifics about all of the topics. Oh, and how he went a little crazy when he was traveling through Europe. At some point, I think he got frustrated with me because I was having such a bad time, I just kind of shut down. But what do you expect when you're on the worst first date ever. I will say one thing...one redeeming quality. He did walk me home. Not that I really want him to know where I live. But it was polite. But I'm glad I've moved from that apartment.
At least I do have the good humor to look back on all of these evenings, and be able to laugh at them. Oh my.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
I Hate Happy Endings
I am a 30 year old single girl living in the city. And I hate my life. Ok, so I don't hate every aspect of my life. But I do hate the being 30 years old, single, and living in the city part. Maybe I don't even mind the being 30 part. But the other 2 things...I definitely hate those things.
I grew up in a small town in Middle America, where many people got married after High School, or right after college, and at the ripe old age of 23, I became an old maid. I'm the girl that people look at from back home and pity. Little do they know that I look at their life, and pity them. Ok, not their entire life, because there is a part of me that wants a little bit of that small town feel, to settle down. But I got out, I experienced other things, and after all of that, I'm making the choice to go back...eventually. I can't say that their choice is the wrong choice, but I know that where I have ended up has been the right thing for me. What their choice has been was probably the right thing for them.
There are countless stories of bad relationships, and people getting out of those bad relationships, and then finding the perfect person. Or the single girl who keeps waiting for Mr. Right to show up, and then one day, he magically appears. I hate those stories. I hate those stories, because it makes it sound like that happens to everyone, or that's what should happen for everyone. Well...guess what. It doesn't.
When I was 20, I started dating a guy who I thought was it. He was the one for me. He was the first guy that I ever called my boyfriend, and I fell for him so hard. To this point, I had already experienced (and still was experiencing) incredibly low self-esteem, and was so enamored by the fact that someone thought I was worth dating, I didn't stop to see if that person was actually worth dating. Four years later, I finally realized that he wasn't. Ok, so I probably realized that he was a worthless lump of flesh long before that, but I thought I loved him, and I thought I was stuck. But finally one day, I realized that I wasn't actually stuck. I no longer had to endure his rage, where he would randomly throw things at my head, or hurl insults my way.
I found myself to be 24, single, and weighing 285 pounds. But of course, I expected to get out of that relationship, and automatically find Mr. Right, because that's what the stories tell us. What I found instead were a lot of lonely nights, and a long string of guys that still don't measure up.
I keep getting told that Mr. Right is out there, you just have to keep your eyes open, or just be patient. But in any relationship story that you hear, it typically has a happy ending where the girl finally gets the guy, and they live happily ever after. I'm not sure that I believe it. I am hopeful, I am. But there is a small part of me that fears that I'll be the 50 year old single woman living alone because I can't have cats because I'm allergic to them.
I often wonder if it's something that I do, or something that I don't do that makes guys look past me. It's not that I don't know guys that are probably good enough for me. It's that they haven't given me a chance. My mom always told me that I just needed someone to give me a chance to prove myself in a job, to give me that chance to show how good I could be for them. I'm notorious for not interviewing well, and I had found myself in a string of jobs that were below my intellectual level. I'm not saying that I didn't have great learning experiences there, but I often found myself bored because it required no brain power. But I finally did find a place that gave me a chance, and I flourished. I've begun to think that way about relationships too. I've found a long string of guys that were well below what I'm worth, and I've learned a lot from those experiences. But I'm ready for someone worthy to look my way, give me a chance, allow me to flourish.
I'm not gonna lie. I'm a catch. I'm funny, a huge smartass, I'm stubborn, I'm smart and can carry on a good conversation. I am well read, oh yeah, and I'm 22 days away from doing my first Ironman, I've ran 3 marathons, and am a little more type A than I really care to admit. I don't like just laying around on the couch, I feel like I should be doing something. I like good music, and I love to laugh, and dance, and sing...even if I'm horrible at it. The dancing and the signing that is. I have a great laugh.
Ok, so I've said all that, but I also realize that sometimes I'm slow to show some of those things off. And I understand why that is too. I think part of me is scared to show off who I am to everyone. And part of me is incredibly slow to trust people. Maybe I shouldn't be, but past experiences have left a few scars that are hard to break through.
So...what's the purpose here? Just to allow me to vent my frustrations of being the single girl? Maybe a little. But more to share the journey of being 30 and single and living in the city. To share the story of the happy ending not coming right away. If it ever comes at all. I want to be positive, and hopeful, but I also want to be realistic.
I grew up in a small town in Middle America, where many people got married after High School, or right after college, and at the ripe old age of 23, I became an old maid. I'm the girl that people look at from back home and pity. Little do they know that I look at their life, and pity them. Ok, not their entire life, because there is a part of me that wants a little bit of that small town feel, to settle down. But I got out, I experienced other things, and after all of that, I'm making the choice to go back...eventually. I can't say that their choice is the wrong choice, but I know that where I have ended up has been the right thing for me. What their choice has been was probably the right thing for them.
There are countless stories of bad relationships, and people getting out of those bad relationships, and then finding the perfect person. Or the single girl who keeps waiting for Mr. Right to show up, and then one day, he magically appears. I hate those stories. I hate those stories, because it makes it sound like that happens to everyone, or that's what should happen for everyone. Well...guess what. It doesn't.
When I was 20, I started dating a guy who I thought was it. He was the one for me. He was the first guy that I ever called my boyfriend, and I fell for him so hard. To this point, I had already experienced (and still was experiencing) incredibly low self-esteem, and was so enamored by the fact that someone thought I was worth dating, I didn't stop to see if that person was actually worth dating. Four years later, I finally realized that he wasn't. Ok, so I probably realized that he was a worthless lump of flesh long before that, but I thought I loved him, and I thought I was stuck. But finally one day, I realized that I wasn't actually stuck. I no longer had to endure his rage, where he would randomly throw things at my head, or hurl insults my way.
I found myself to be 24, single, and weighing 285 pounds. But of course, I expected to get out of that relationship, and automatically find Mr. Right, because that's what the stories tell us. What I found instead were a lot of lonely nights, and a long string of guys that still don't measure up.
I keep getting told that Mr. Right is out there, you just have to keep your eyes open, or just be patient. But in any relationship story that you hear, it typically has a happy ending where the girl finally gets the guy, and they live happily ever after. I'm not sure that I believe it. I am hopeful, I am. But there is a small part of me that fears that I'll be the 50 year old single woman living alone because I can't have cats because I'm allergic to them.
I often wonder if it's something that I do, or something that I don't do that makes guys look past me. It's not that I don't know guys that are probably good enough for me. It's that they haven't given me a chance. My mom always told me that I just needed someone to give me a chance to prove myself in a job, to give me that chance to show how good I could be for them. I'm notorious for not interviewing well, and I had found myself in a string of jobs that were below my intellectual level. I'm not saying that I didn't have great learning experiences there, but I often found myself bored because it required no brain power. But I finally did find a place that gave me a chance, and I flourished. I've begun to think that way about relationships too. I've found a long string of guys that were well below what I'm worth, and I've learned a lot from those experiences. But I'm ready for someone worthy to look my way, give me a chance, allow me to flourish.
I'm not gonna lie. I'm a catch. I'm funny, a huge smartass, I'm stubborn, I'm smart and can carry on a good conversation. I am well read, oh yeah, and I'm 22 days away from doing my first Ironman, I've ran 3 marathons, and am a little more type A than I really care to admit. I don't like just laying around on the couch, I feel like I should be doing something. I like good music, and I love to laugh, and dance, and sing...even if I'm horrible at it. The dancing and the signing that is. I have a great laugh.
Ok, so I've said all that, but I also realize that sometimes I'm slow to show some of those things off. And I understand why that is too. I think part of me is scared to show off who I am to everyone. And part of me is incredibly slow to trust people. Maybe I shouldn't be, but past experiences have left a few scars that are hard to break through.
So...what's the purpose here? Just to allow me to vent my frustrations of being the single girl? Maybe a little. But more to share the journey of being 30 and single and living in the city. To share the story of the happy ending not coming right away. If it ever comes at all. I want to be positive, and hopeful, but I also want to be realistic.
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