A single site.

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I gave up the whole OkCupid game a while back, after my nerdy guy tried too hard and I had a texting catastrophe, thinking that maybe this whole online-thing wasn’t what I needed to find my guy.

But after all my other male fails I’ve decided that maybe I just need to keep an open mind with this OkCupid world.

Besides, I’m bored and I’m running out of new material for this blog, so I might as well endure a few botched dates for the entertainment of all of you.

And, who knows, maybe I’ll actually have a good date.

Yes, this is someone’s profile picture and, no, I don’t think this will be the guy that sweeps me off my feet. Unless he melts and I slip, then I might be swept off my feet.

Or not.

A single attempt.

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I’m a sucker for a well-quaffed, vested boy.

Especially if he’s straight.  That one really gets me (I’ll still love the gay man in a vest but I can only do so much with him besides look).

Add in a tie and we’re talking the highest possible swoon-age physically possible.

Why do you need to know these facts?

Because I recently swooned, hard, for a guy in a vest with well-quaffed hair.

 And not only did I stare at him longingly but I also texted him.  Drunkenly.  And longingly.

Unless that’s water in the glass, in which case, you can expect a silent phone.

We all know that drunk texting never leads to anything good so I’ll skip over the part where I lost all of my self-respect at the bottom of that bottle of vodka and underneath my cell phone. Essentially I texted out all my dignity at this boy.  I laid it out on the line.  I told him what I thought of him, what I wanted from him, what I wanted to do with him.

And he took it pretty well.

Granted, he didn’t reciprocate my feelings.  I don’t blame him.  On his side of things a crazy-ass girl blurted out all her feelings at one time, with no indication that this was how she felt in previous  interactions.  This was out of le bleu.

But, I’m not going to lie, I’m proud of myself, even if I was a crazy-ass girl (that part I would like to have imagined happening differently).  I went after the guy I wanted, no hesitation, and even though the outcome wasn’t what I wanted, I feel happy knowing that I didn’t just sit back and wait.

I’m just glad that I tried, even if it didn’t work, it’s a big step for me.

And, guy in vest, you know who you are, if you’re reading this, sorry for drunkenly text-attacking you, but I meant every word that I said.

A single voice.

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The other night my friend Kelsey (of the famed blog post of yore) and I decided that it was a good night to just go for a drive.  And, with shouts of “Adventure!”, we drove with no particular destination in mind.

But we did have one plan: talk.  And we talked a lot.  It felt good to fully vocalize all my fears and thoughts.  Out there, in the open, with another voice to object to the biased opinions I have of my various situations in life.

And that’s when I realized that I had let my mind’s voice take over for me.

Who knew a single drive would lead me to find a single voice?

Voice is a big deal for writers.  In school they teach us how to develop our voices so we speak effectively to our audience.  We never get a chance to actually speak, personally, to our readers so we spend a lot of time cultivating the one voice they will read.

Spending so much time in my head, creating my writing voice, has allowed me to encounter all those other pesky thoughts (I would say “voices” but then I would be talking about the voices in my head and then I just sound flat-out crazy).  I’m very intimate with my thoughts.  I know them well.  And that’s why I’m unafraid to analyze the shit out of them.

I let that little voice in my head question everything I do.  I let it tear me down.  It analyzes how I speak, how I act, how I behave with a boy.  It makes me uncomfortable in my skin so that when I’m with a guy I’m afraid to let him even touch me.

Frankly, that’s fucked.

So now I’m ready to take control of the voice I created.  My inner-voice.  The voice that has belittled me, mocked me, and told me I couldn’t amount to anything.  The voice that has held me back from doing all the great things I know I can do.  The voice that consumed me only months ago.  I’m fighting back.

Let the adventures begin!

Ten Things Nicholas Sparks Did Wrong.

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The “Lucky One” came out recently.  And in honor of this cinematic failure I thought I would pay homage to the man behind why 13 year old girls are destined to have poor excuses for relationships: Nicholas Sparks*.  The man that gets a lady-boner whenever he hears the words “rain,” “marine,” or “Miley Cyrus.”

The man behind the magic, Sparky McSpark-Spark

10. A storm does not a relationship make. The man loves rain.  He loves kissing in the rain, he loves fortifying relationships in the rain through traumatic events, and he loves starting relationships in the rain. He likes things wet.  Oh, Mr. Sparks, you naughty man. . .

9.  War! What isn’t it good for? People just don’t get killed when they go off to war in Sparks’ world.  In fact, he doesn’t even want to waste his time with the mediocre soldier that is only doing it because he is fulfilling some sort of obligation to his country.  No, he actually does kill off those soldiers because who wants the mediocre ones around?  His characters are the man’s man.  John (of the Dear, John, variety) is the only one that comes close to saying no to re-enlisting.  But, soldier’s are Sparks’ wet dream.  And boy, you can’t have a passionate relationship unless that boy was the best soldier out there first.

8. Southern hospitality.   We get it Spark Plug: you love the south.  Sweet tea and mint juleps for everyone! But since love only happens in the south, it’s hard for the rest of us Yankees (mainly me) to feel like we are ever going to get a chance at all of the good times.  We just don’t have as many crab shacks to go to up here on our first dates.

7. Loner lover boys. Ever notice that these leading men have barely any friends or family? That’s not normal.  These men are more focused on getting a girl than maintaining healthy relationships.  It’s not okay to become so fixated on another person that you completely ignore all other aspects of your life.  Which leads us to….

6. Sexy fixation.  I don’t care how hot the guy is – it is not okay to become obsessed with a girl.  GET A LIFE.  It’s creepy.  Stop walking across the country, dangling from a ferris wheel, and, please, stop jumping off piers.

Uh-oh, Mandy seems to have lost her sweater....

5.  If you give a girl a sweater. If you give a girl a sweater, it is not like if you give a mouse a cookie.  She will not ask for more.

4.  Girls turned off/on.  Why do girls have absolutely no power in these movies? I mean, really now, why must they all be slightly wounded and waiting for a man to save them.  The only time a woman takes initiative is when she makes these men have sex with her.  Listen leading ladies, sex doesn’t create an emotional band-aid to cover all your wounds, try seeing a shrink or take up kick-boxing.

3. Miley Cyrus.  Why, Nick, why?

2. Nights in Rodanthe.  See number 3.

1. El grande finale-e.  It’s funny.  I’ve never had a boy fix my boat’s engine, build me a telescope or rebuild an entire home for us to live in.  But, Nicky (do you mind if I call you Nicky?), what happened to flowers or just really good sex? I don’t think the average man knows how to rebuild an entire house for me and if I waited for one that could, well, this blog might be around for a long ass time.

*Yes, I know, Nicholas Sparks only wrote the books.  But I blame him for even coming up with these ideas.  And no, I haven’t read all of his books, Dear John, was all I could bear to read and even that was like swallowing a wasp’s nest.