A single enemy.


The other night, my sister posted on my wall to tell me her pretty ingenious idea for my next blog post:

She’s so smaht.  And, like she said, there are some funny things out there when you only search for the person you are supposedly least compatible with on OkCupid.

I thought I had seen the worst when I was going through my highest match percentage candidates but the worst of the worst (WOW) was far…worse.

The men I came across varied drastically.  Some were too far right, some too far left.  Others didn’t have respect for the ladies while some had known too many ladies.  There were the gangsta wannabes, the unhip hipsters, the mama’s boy and the asshole.

There are many assholes, they are the greatest populous of boy out there and instead of recapping the entire experience I’ve decided to show you all exactly why I’ll never message men like this:

It’s amazing how I start to pity this guy instead of loathe him with all of those misspelled words.

But, oddly enough, that whole “opposites attract” theory might be a little true.

The last guy I came across had an enemy percentage of 83% and a match percentage of 23% – which is making me question how they figure out the percentages for this site because this guy and I are totally compatible.  Not only does he reference my all time favorite movie, Good Will Hunting, but he also put the lyrics for A Whole New World into his profile.  Read this little tidbit I stole from his profile and see if you don’t agree with me:

This boy slays me.  Even if I we never dated I could be happy knowing he exists.  I honestly don’t know why we have such a high enemy percentage – Boy Meets World, Good Will Hunting, and Aladdin? All in one profile?  Best. Profile.  Ever.

A single shot, revisited.


Man, do I have a headache right now.

Last night’s post should have been titled “A single round of shots, consumed again and again and again.” But, I was too drunk to have done anything super clever for you all last night.

It wasn’t until this morning, when I was checking my email and saw my wordpress notifications that I remembered writing that.  So, no worries, my alter-ego, Drunk Olivia, wrote that post last night.  I am the real Olivia and now I’m standing up and writing a quick clarification to all my loyal readers.


– I did not take a single shot. That is a lie.  I took seven.

– “done” not “gone”

– I have not given up.

There you have it folks! Drunk Olivia is not the most accurate but she’s got a whole lot of heart.

Thanks for all your posts and words of encouragement! As a reward for being so kind and understanding of my drunken ways, I’ve added a link that my sister, Jessie, sent me the other day, I think you will enjoy it as much as we did.

Dating Montage

A single shot.


Ever noticed how a shot of Fireball Whiskey can make everything clearer?


Then you’ve never had Fireball Whiskey.

And, no, Fireball Whiskey doesn’t pay me every time I use their name in a blog post but, if they did, Fireball Whiskey would owe me $4,000.

Anyways, I’m serious, just one shot and everything made sense.  One shot of cinammony goodness and I knew that everything I had done this year was a waste of time.  Because everything I had done had resulted in nothing.  Actually, everything I had gone after this year had resulted in me still being single.

I don’t think I even wanted to be in a relationship with those that I wasted my time with.

They never made me feel like I was worth anything. in fact, I just was used for a bed.  I was just the person that was stupid enough to let this happen over and over.

One shot and everything was clear.

One shot and I realized that I’m worth more than all this shit.

One shot.

That’s it.

5 Reasons I’m Glad to Not Be Single in the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros.


It’s summer time but, thankfully, my hard time in the real world hasn’t started yet.  I’ve worked occasionally but not in a way  that would give me more than $0.61 combined in my savings and checking accounts.

In fact, the only thing I’ve worked on since I’ve been home is watching the first and second seasons of Game of Thrones.

I’m obsessed.


Just walk into my bedroom closet and you will find my Tyrion Lannister shrine made of used tissues and held together with my tears.

The one thing I love the most about Game of Thrones is how grateful it makes me feel for not living in their world as the single lady I tend to be.  So I’ve compiled a list of five main reasons why I’m glad to not be living in Westeros despite how much I love watching the show.

5 Reasons I’m Glad to Not Be Single in the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros. 

5. I’d have to work for Little Finger.  If you aren’t married and you have a vagina then most likely you are going to end up as a prostitute.  And I don’t want to have to have sex with some fat, old, lord just because I’m being paid to – it doesn’t sound like something I would necessarily enjoy.

4. I’m worth about as much as a goat.  Being single basically means I can be traded without my consent.  Oh, what’s that, My Lord? You need an army? Sure, just give me to the first barbarian you meet in exchange for some men with sticks.

3.  Unless I’m married to a powerful man, no one takes me seriously. Oh wait, that’s not that different from our world…

2.  It’s got some medieval Mean Girls going on. It doesn’t really matter if you are single or in a relationship in Westeros, someone will stab you in the back, or cut off your hand, or kill your significant other.  They will do so with a smile and without the slightest flutter of an eyelid.  They will do so when you think they are your ally.

1. I would be eligible to be courted by the future king. This doesn’t sound that bad, right? But King Joffrey is a prick and all the other kings are old.  If the King of the North, Robb McHotPants, came to my door then we would be talking marriage but the chances that I would be stuck with Joffrey, fearing my life and beating other prostitutes for his amusement, are way too high.

A single (UPDATED) respirator.


Just to keep y’all in the loop, I thought I would share with you that my awkwardness paid off and respirator boy responded to my message:

Hey Olivia!

Well I would have found that clever and very entertaining! And you speak facts, it is a fantastic respirator. What do you do for work that requires a respirator?

I am glad to answer and I have no doubt you are much more awesome once moving on from introductions… No one likes to have to make the first introduction. ;D


Why, yes, I am more awesome once I move on from introductions.  And I’m pretty.  And funny.  And nice (he was thinking all those things).

If he answered my incredibly awkward message then he is either one of two things: 1.) awesome or 2.) weird.

I’m hoping for the first option but, don’t worry, I’ll keep you all in the know.

A single respirator.


I thought, when I started back up on OkCupid, I would be gaining access to the pot of shame that resides at the end of the pathetic rainbow of men on this site.  And, with this pot-o-shame, I would be able to dole out heaping spoonfuls of entertainment to you all.

Sadly, I will be the reason for your entertainment, not some man dressed up in a snowman suit for his profile picture (although, that was pretty entertaining). Yes, I will be your man dressed up in a snowman suit.

See, dear readers, I have a problem:

My name is Olivia, and I am an awkwardholic. 

Meaning that I come off awkwardly in almost any day-to-day situation but, more specifically, when I try to meet new people.  And on OkCupid, I’m meeting new people all the time.

Most days I can mask my awkwardholism (I guess that makes me a functioning awkwardholic) but if I’m extremely tired or had a trying day, then sometimes I just can’t hide my dark secret.  And, when I try to interact with other human beings, bad things happen.

Exhibit A:


I was trying to think of a clever way of starting up a conversation with you but, sadly, the best I can come up with was, “Hey, nice respirator. I have the same one for work.”

Hopefully, despite my pitiful excuse for a first message, you will want to message me back. I promise, I much more engaging once I move on from “nice respirator.”


Used for safety purposes while working, this respirator mask is similar to what I shamed myself in conversation with!

You really don’t need any other exhibits after that little number.  Not only do I admit that I was thinking about how to strike up a conversation but then I mention the one lame line that I could come up with…twice!  And we’ll just ignore the grammatical mistakes (Why point these out now? Especially when they have been plaguing this blog for the last year or so).

Nice respirator… why don’t I get a sponsor to keep me from saying these sort of things? Can I hire someone? Is anyone looking for a job out there?  Anyone? No?  Fair enough.

I always realize the awkwardness about an hour after it happens.  It’s almost like my body becomes ashamed of my awkwardholic mind and it informs me of what I’ve done wrong.  I feel it in my bones the same way an old sea-captain feels a storm a brewin’ off the coast.   But, once I realize what I’ve done, well, the damage is already done.  There is nothing else I can do.

Well, there is one thing I can do. I can place one hand on top of the other, fingers unclenched, and I can wag my thumbs as I awkward turtle myself out of the room.

And then I’ll re-enter the room.  Awkwardly.