When it comes to dating, I have a lot of preferences. I’d prefer to end up with someone who shares my religion, my political views and my musical interests. I’d prefer to find a man who has a college education, a job he enjoys and tight-knit family. But those are preferences— not dealbreakers. If I happen to find someone who’s a perfect match for me, but he’s not Catholic and he hates country music, so be it. I would be with him despite our differences. But when it comes to physical “preferences,” I’ve always been a bit pickier.
While I never considered them “dealbreakers,” my hesitation (and usually refusal) go out with someone who’s under 5’10, overweight or has a receding hairline, is, despite my denial, dealbreaker status. So this weekend, I checked those dealbreakers at the door and went on a date with my OKCupid run-in, Andrew, who I can now confirm stands barely two inches taller than me at 5’9″. Keep reading »
The other night when a number I didn’t recognize flashed on my phone, I decided to answer the call and was greeted with a cheerful, “Hey there, it’s Andrew.”
“Andrew?” I replied, clearly confused about who was on the other end of the line. “I’m sorry. Andrew who?”
“From the bar on Saturday night. You gave me your number,” he said, sounding slightly defeated by my forgetfulness.
And then it hit me. I knew exactly who he was. He was my OKCupid run-in. Keep reading »
Just as I began to feel satisfied and confident with my relationship-free self, guess who came back to throw a wrench in things and screw up my single girl feng shui? My college boyfriend, and one of the few men I’ve ever really loved: Don. Keep reading »
A few years ago, feeling stuck in a dead-end job, depressed, and lost in love, a friend of mine suggested I see her psychic, Donna, to help guide me through my tough time. I believed, and still do believe, in psychic abilities, but was hesitant and wanted to know that the psychic wasn’t just another fraud trying to make some quick cash.
“I’m telling you Donna’s the real deal,” my girlfriend reassured me. “She knew exactly when I was going to get engaged before I even had a boyfriend and told me small details about my past that she couldn’t have made up.”
I called Donna. She told me that my sister would have a failed engagement (which she did), and that within two months I would start a new, esteemed job at a company where they would be “ripping up carpeting” (I did, and they were), and that I was struggling with trust issues from a “uniformed male who broke my heart” (hello, Patrick Bateman). She reassured me that everything was panning out exactly as it was supposed to, and that she saw me ending up in a serious relationship, but that I needed to focus on me in the meantime. After speaking with her, I felt a renewed sense of hope. Her reassuring words helped me pull myself out of my slump.
After reading The Frisky post last week about Ami’s psychic love predictions, I felt like another chat with Donna might be just what the doctor ordered. So, I made another phone appointment. Keep reading »
On my fourth, excruciating day of not hearing from GQ, I was still racking my brain for possible reasons he could have ghosted. But I knew it was time to accept the fact that things were over between us. I knew I needed to reactivate my OKCupid profile— the one he suggested I take down to focus on “us.” But there was no “us” anymore. There was just me. And him, somewhere out there, avoiding me.
Feeling deflated, I logged back online when, to my surprise, I saw that GQ had reactivated his profile. To say that I was pissed is an understatement. After reaching out for days without any response, I was furious that GQ had no problem deciding to date other people without even bothering to give me one simple phone call to let me know I’d been dumped. A dick move. I made the oh-so-mature decision that probing him with questions (okay, and maybe some name-calling) wasn’t worth my time and energy. His message was coming through loud and clear: he wanted nothing to do with me. Keep reading »
It’s been two days since I’ve heard from GQ, and to be honest, I’m in an anxiety spiral. Although there’s still a tiny part of me that’s hoping for the best, it appears I’ve been ghosted.
Last week, as I mentioned, I happily accepted when GQ asked me over for takeout and a movie. Although we ultimately opted against the takeout in favor of a quick trip to a cozy eatery near his apartment, the night went exactly according to plan. We laughed, talked, yes—slept together— and even made the decision to take down our online dating profiles. Keep reading »
When GQ and I met up at a trendy Italian restaurant on our second date, he immediately reminded me how different he is from other guys I’ve dated. He kissed me hello, opened the door for me, put his hand on the small of my back and led me inside the restaurant. While we waited for the hostess to look up our reservation, he leaned against the stand, and looked into my eyes like he’d taken seduction cues from Ryan Gosling in “Crazy Stupid Love.”
When we got to our table, he helped me take off my coat and pushed my chair in underneath me. I didn’t even know people still did that; I’ve certainly never had the pleasure of dating anyone who engaged in chivalry. Over dinner, we swapped tales of teenage rebellion. I told him all about my childhood bedroom, which had a door that led right outside, and how I’d sneak out to round third base with my boyfriend in the woods near my house. He told me about the time he and his friends got caught drinking at a football game in high school and the principal insisted on calling his very conservative, very strict parents to come pick him up. Our conversation continued, and we even got into some deeper topics like religion, abortion and health care, sharing our viewpoints and seeing if our perspectives matched up— they did. I’d been wondering if GQ is religious, so I saw an open window when we started talking about how I gave up biting my nails for Lent. Keep reading »
Sometimes in life, opportunities come along that seem way too good to be true: a promising job offer that allows you to work from home with unlimited sick days, winning an all-expenses-paid trip for two to Bermuda, and in my case, meeting a man online who goes by the handle HoopTR46.
I opened his message on Wednesday morning, and immediately noticed how drop dead gorgeous he was. I’m talking tall, dark and handsome, straight-off-the-pages-of-GQ gorgeous. He had thick, well-shaped eyebrows and mesmerizing, forest green eyes. After checking out his profile, I learned that he was my age, has a prestigious role at a well-known advertising company (which happens to be only one block from my office), that he’s very well-traveled, has a great education, is witty, athletic, spontaneous and overall too good to be true. But what did I have to lose? Keep reading »
Now that I’ve been single for a couple of weeks, I’ve been upping my online dating game in hopes of meeting some eligible bachelors. I spent a solid three hours this weekend updating my OKCupid profile, adding new photos of myself and just seeing what’s out there, and I even created a profile on HowAboutWe.com. Since then, I’ve found myself chatting with a handful of potentials— a witty lawyer, a CrossFit enthusiast (I know, I know), a financial consultant and a bearded guy who works for an airline, whom I’ve appropriately nicknamed “Wings.”
In the past, I took a pretty reserved approach to online dating, letting others message me first and skimming through my messages every once in a blue moon. But this time around, I’m doing things differently. I’m going to reach out to the people I want to talk to and cut through the bullshit early on by being my most honest self from the get-go. If your first message to me simply says “hi,” without any thought behind it, I’m deleting it. If your profile is vague and you’re not making an effort, I’m not interested. The old me is gone, and the new, no-nonsense dater is here to stay. Thankfully, my new approach seems to be paying off. After multiple exchanges back and forth with Mr. CrossFit, I received a very straightforward message from him in response to my telling him I’m a “picky dater.”
“So am I,” he confessed. “So, let’s be straight with each other. What are your dating dealbreakers? Please, be 100 percent open and honest.” Keep reading »
Well, I successfully made it through Valentine’s Day without needing Xanax or calling an ex-boyfriend, so I’d say it was a great success. But before I headed out on February 14th for a singles’ feast and game night with some of my favorite ladies, I heard from Officer Handsoming. Shocked to see his name appear on my phone, I felt equal parts annoyed and surprised that he’d reach out on Valentine’s Day, since his lack of planning for the holiday ultimately fueled our split.
“Hey. How’d you make it through the snowstorm?” his text read.
“Fine, thanks. Have you had many stabbings and out-of-control ex-boyfriend bonfires to tend to today?” I joked, knowing he was on the clock.
“Not so far, but there’s still time,” he wrote with a wink emoticon. “My schedule changed and I’m no longer working overnight. What are you up to tonight?” Keep reading »