Dating Whoa

I have a love/hate relationship with online dating. I love going on dates, especially first dates. Meeting a new person, having interesting conversation and learning what they like and dislike, hearing fun stories and ultimately seeing if there’s a mutual attraction. It’s fun – when you get to go on one. But at the same time, I hate how much work dating has become as I’ve gotten older. If you want to be successful at it, you almost have to treat it like a second job. You have to put lots of effort into finding people you’re compatible with, and even if you’re successful circumstances may arise that disrupt your chances.

Dating, at its base level, is about finding out two things about the person you’re with. First, you’re seeing if you have enough in common that you want to spend a lot of your time hanging out with them. Second, you’re seeing if you have enough attraction to them that you want to see them naked. That’s it – that’s what a date is trying to determine. If you’re only looking for the first option, you’re probably on Meetup. If you’re only looking for the second option, you’re probably on Tinder. If you’re looking for both at the same time, you’re probably on a date.

In high school (and college to a degree – pun intended) that’s all that matters. You’re not worried about things like financial troubles or job opportunities or alimony payments or scary relatives. If you like hanging out and you want to have lots of sex, you end up dating – pimples and all. Pretty easy.

People that fall into serious relationships during this time are extraordinarily lucky, because as you go from teenagehood to adulthood, you get to grow together as a couple. You sort through all those difficult problems that arise, like “Holy shit, I have to pay how much to keep the water going?!” But you’re doing it as a unit and it bonds you. By the time serious problems develop (Crippling student loan debt, job opportunities in weird-ass places, serious health issues, and having a kid are all good examples) you’ve bonded and gone through things together and know that the person you’re with is worth the trouble. Or these problems break you apart, and then you end up back in the dating pool AFTER the honeymoon period of school and the infinite possibilities of sex are over.

Because as you get older, you start to weigh more things in your evaluations of potential partners. Having a lot in common and wanting to see them naked is still the base desire, but life starts creeping in and making your tastes a lot more discerning. At sixteen, a young woman likes the same movies as this cute guy, they develop interest and start dating seriously. At thirty, the same woman may think the guy is cute and they may enjoy the same movies, but she’s also worried about that ex-wife of his that’s sort of looney tunes, and the fact that he still seriously thinks his garage band’s going to make it big, and oh by the way can he borrow $100 for gas money for a road trip to Vegas.

So these serious problems that were bonding moments between couples that got started earlier end up being “baggage” for people on the dating scene later. You have crippling student loans? Well, I have good credit so us dating may not work out. You have a kid? Well, I am allergic to kids so bye. Not actually my opinion – I love kids. But I hope you get my point.

It’s especially difficult in the online age because you have a glut of information about the people you’re looking at, especially on some dating websites. I would routinely find people that seemed interesting at first glance, but two minutes with their dating profile and I would find at least one thing that made me go “Nope.” Now some things I found were actually good of me to know ahead of time, for example casual racism. I didn’t want to go out on dates with racists! That’s nice to find out about before making the mistake of messaging them. But a decent number were just me being too damn picky and finding reasons NOT to be interested.

And that’s a big issue that’s crept up, at least for me personally. See in this day and age, you can get exactly what you want pretty much whenever you want it. Do you want sushi delivered to your door? There’s an app for that. You want a guy to dress up in a ketchup bottle and dance for an hour? There’s probably an app for that too…somewhere. The point is, people in the modern age are teaching themselves more and more that they should get exactly 100% what they want. And it seeps into dating – if you find that one flaw in a person, it’s not charming and it isn’t something to work through as partners. Instead it’s a reason to try a new profile and see if you can find a better “match.”

A few weeks ago I decided to delete/discontinue all my dating apps/profiles/whatever online because I was just so damn tired. It was exhausting trying to discern who I wanted to send messages to, trying to come up with witticisms that made me seem more interesting than I actually am after swiping right, doing all that stuff. I wasn’t doing it because I wanted to anymore, I was simply doing it out of reflex because I felt like I should be doing it. And since I’ve removed myself from that particular dating pool I haven’t regretted it at all. It’s good to be free of that insane pickiness I found myself having about any possible date.

Maybe love is just around the corner for me. But in more likelihood, it probably isn’t. For now I’m just going to enjoy my life and stop trying to hunt down the perfect partner. And I’m okay with that.

Just Say Fuck It

So last night at 8:30 I found myself at the grocery store because my tooth was hurting me something awful and I was out of ibuprofen. And because of that, I found myself standing in front of a shelf full of Goldfish cracker packages that were on sale for 3/$4.98. As I stood in front of the Goldfish, three things crossed my mind. First – doing math in my head trying to figure out how much I would save if I bought said crackers versus their normal price. Second – wondering if my grade school math teachers knew all along this would be the extent of how I used math in my adult life. Third – wondering who the fuck thought it was a good idea to make the sale price 3/$4.98. Not even 3/$5? Seriously? What is WRONG with you?

After about thirty seconds of staring (which is approximately 29 seconds to long to stare at Goldfish crackers) I decided “fuck it” and threw the package into my basket without completing the math. And thus began my “fuck it” grocery run, where I just walked through all the junk food aisles and anything that I wanted and was on sale, I threw into the basket because “fuck it.” No “well I should get something healthy” or “should I really get this, it’s bad for me.” Just “fuck it” and into the basket.

And I realized that everybody needs to say Fuck It every once in a while. It’s liberating and let’s you stop worrying and overthinking about all your problems. Squash the Little Idiot inside of you and just go with the flow.

Now first, I’m aware my language is coarse. I was raised Mormon, where I learned that cursing was bad and evil and against God. I’m not always foul-mouthed. I’m polite around people I don’t know very well, I don’t curse around my parents or relatives, I try not to curse at work or around other people’s children that I don’t know. But cursing is not a bad thing. Sometimes you just need to throw in a fuck for emphasis and sometimes the word itself brings a different connotation.

Like if somebody says “Hey, let’s have sex” versus “Hey, let’s fuck.” There’s a different meaning there. Or “Let’s get out of here” (we’re done with dinner, let’s go to the movie now) versus “Let’s get the fuck out of here” (holy shit there’s a t-rex running down the street, move your ass).

Language is a beautiful thing – why artificially restrict yourself based on a nebulous definition of “bad” word?

So when I say everyone needs to say Fuck It, I don’t mean everyone needs to say “screw it.” No, dammit, your internal monologue has to be “fuck it.” If you’ve been a good vegetarian for three months and you say Screw It, you put bacon bits on the salad you’re having for dinner. If you’ve been a good vegetarian for three months and you say Fuck It, you order a meat lover’s pizza and devour the whole thing while watching Netflix in your sweatpants. If you say Screw It, you casually ask the cute person at the bar if you can buy them a drink. If you say Fuck It, you walk into the middle of the dance floor and start busting out every dance move in your repertoire while giving sexy eyes to the hottest person out there.

I’m not saying Fuck It is always good though. Going full Fuck It is not always going to bring you happiness, and in fact it’ll probably bring failure. In my case, saying Fuck It at the grocery store probably increased my BMI by a few points. In Mike Tyson’s case, he said Fuck It and bit Evander Holyfield’s ear off – that didn’t turn out so great. In Japan’s case, during World War II they said Fuck It and bombed Pearl Harbor. Also not a great decision.

Saying “fuck it” is not always going to work. But the best part of “fuck it” is that you’re likely going to have a story afterwards. You might even learn something about yourself. Like I learned I can, in fact, eat a whole bag of Doritos in one sitting and not get sick. (Just kidding, I already knew that.)

Normally at this point, I’d try to wrap things up with a summary paragraph and maybe a more concrete lesson. You know, typical writing behavior.

But eh, fuck it.

My Brain is Legos

I read/heard two things recently that basically got me wanting to write up a new blog post. The first I saw on the internet somewhere this weekend, and while I don’t remember the exact content it was motivational and went something like this: “Just because you don’t think people will read it doesn’t mean you shouldn’t still write it. Just because you don’t think people will listen doesn’t mean you shouldn’t say it. You are not the reactions of other people to you.” And that’s something I’ve always struggled with as a writer – after all, what’s the point of creating if nobody consumes what you’ve created? No feedback at all is worse than negative feedback – throwing your creations into a vaccuum sometimes feels like shouting into a hurricane. I created this blog as a place to share my thoughts and opinions, and the times since my last post where I sat down at the computer and thought about making a blog post, but my brain managed to talk myself out of it through the logic of “Well, nobody is going to read this anyway regardless of your opinion, also in a hundred years you and everyone you know will be dead so what’s the point?”

My brain takes tangential, existential leaps to the oblivion on a regular basis.

Reading this got me to start thinking. And I realized that part of why I could never sit down and write a blog post is because I wanted every post I made to be a “big deal.” As in I wanted everything I wrote to be calculated and rigid, planned out to the utmost degree so I had opinions backed with facts and people would read what I say and go “ooh” and “aah” and “he Knows what he’s talking about, with a capital K.” I wanted every post I made to matter. I wanted to plan things out meticulously.

I am not good at that.

That is not me.

And that’s why I haven’t written about anything in two weeks. Because I’d get all amped about talking about whatever the latest news was that got my attention, and then I’d sit down and think to myself “God, it’s going to take a lot of work to get this together and make it good. It’s going to take hours, I might not even finish it tonight. Also, the sun will probably explode in 5.5 billion years annihilating everything in our solar system, so what’s the point? I’m going to go heat up some pizza and play video games.”

So I’m going to stop that, because that is not how my brain works. If you were to wander into my brain, it would look like a Lego store. But not a put together, organized Lego store. No, it’s more of a Lego store after a horde of eight-year olds has run through opening every fucking package without parental supervision. There would be ten Lego Death Stars started, except each one would have about five pieces stuck together and the rest spread out over the floor, and Lego Grand Moff Tarkin would be trapped inside a half-finished Lego X-Wing, and Lego Cinderella would be riding on a Lego dragon while some amalgamation of stray Legos that looks more like a Lovecraftian horror than anything of this Earth is pursuing a half Lego Iron Man, half Lego Indiana Jones conjoined twin.

Don’t walk barefoot in my brain.

I feel like I may have lost people in this metaphor, so let me give you an example. Earlier this evening, while I was fighting off both a sinus-related toothache (don’t ask) and a wave of nausea (won’t tell) I had a brilliant idea. I decided I was going to start a podcast! Wouldn’t that be fun? Yeah! I could get all my friends together, we could have a weekly sit down where we discuss shit that’s happened during the week and tell stories and then I’ll edit it and post it online. Five people will listen to it, it’ll be great! I even started looking up “how to start a podcast” on my phone and researching proper recording equipment before I stopped and thought about what the fuck I was doing. More importantly, the Little Asshole that resides on my shoulder rapped me on the forehead and yelled “You Idiot! You have a blog you haven’t touched in weeks! Don’t you think you should do one thing on a fucking schedule that you can ACTUALLY do before you try to do something you have NO experience in?!”

Which brings me to thing #2. Ah, I bet you forgot that there were two things that inspired this post! In writing speak, we call that foreshadowing. (Little Asshole: “That’s not foreshadowing at all, you Idiot.”) So. Thing #2. I was listening to Kyle Kinane’s stand-up comedy at work (he’s absolutely hysterical and you should give him a listen if you like comedy) and one of his tracks started with a great quote that I immediately knew I had to share:

“I’m lucky I’m a comedian because otherwise my life would be a series of undocumented low points.”

And that quote also got me thinking. I don’t document my life enough. I’m hesitant to draw from and share my life experiences because they’re personal. Also I’m bad at punch lines and telling stories. Not writing stories, but telling them. You know if you’re good or bad at telling stories, because about halfway through the story your audience’s eyes glaze over. Or you’re starting to laugh but everyone else is giving you that weird look and saying “Okay…” and you know you’ve lost them because you can hear the ellipsis in their speech. That’s me. I can’t share stories for the life of me. I don’t have that je ne sais quoi (look at me I can Google French) that it takes to really get a chuckle out of a funny event. At least in person. But I like to think I’m not terrible at writing.

So I sat down and really, really thought about what I wanted to write about and put on this blog. And I realized my life is one long string of stories about me going “Ooh shiny!” because I have no fucking focus. When you’re six years old, you want to do everything. You want to be a fireman, an action hero, a pretty princess, an actor, a writer, a dancer, a prancer, a vixen…well, you get the idea. When you’re six, on Monday you see a guy walk on the moon and want to be an astronaut. You want astronaut themed pillows, asteroids hanging from your ceiling, posters of space on your walls and little space shuttle action figures. On Tuesday, you see a guy drive a really big truck and he blows the horn for you and now you want to be a truck driver and have trucks on your wall and big Mack truck die-cast metal figures displayed on your dresser. And your parents just smile and nod.

Then you grow up. You go to school, you go to college and take a few classes while you’re not getting drunk and somewhere along the way you figure out what you want to do for the rest of your life. You gain some focus, you specialize and put effort and time into what you want to do and then BAM! You’re it. I have friends who are lawyers, doctors, engineers – they spent years of their lives dedicated to one pursuit so they would be good at it and now they are. They have a focus, they’re doing something they enjoy and have a set plan for a good chunk of their life.

My brain never grew up.

I still want to be a fucking astronaut.

And a race car driver.

And a stand-up comedian.

I still, while I’m by myself, pretend I can actually sing and think I’ll make it big on American Idol.

I’m a lunatic.

Which, as you can imagine, has led to a few interesting failures along the way. Like the time I thought I could learn parkour, and ended up getting schooled by a little 50-year old lady who was better at it than I was. I learned that day that, while I know I’m not fat, I’m also not built Ford tough. I’m not a honed weapon that can slice through a man’s spine. I’m the cosmetic sword that sits on the shelf from Ikea and if you put either through anything strenuous the entire set-up falls apart.

There is a point to all of this. That point is I’m going to stop trying to pretend this blog can be organized. Because my life is haphazard, so there’s no way this blog can be anything but. I’m also going to put more of me into what I post. My stories, my failures. Yes, I’m still going to write movie reviews and throw out my opinions, but I’m going to stop treating this blog like some holy bastion of amazing shit. I’m going to write less conclusively and more obtrusively. Instead of having to have a 3000 word treatise on anything I want to post about, I’ll just post thought blurbs about things as they come to me, or share things that I enjoy.

Or maybe there’s no point to this at all. Maybe I just rambled for however many words this is about things that are only slightly connected because my brain is fucking nuts and I can’t commit to anything but want to commit to everything all at the same time. At this point, I honestly can’t tell anymore.

So, who wants to start a podcast?