Friday, May 24, 2013

The Danger of Online Dating

I don't even know how to begin telling this story…

The other night I was checking my messages on OKCupid, ignoring most of them, and thinking that I should just cancel the account, when I read a message from an attractive black guy*, "Do you want to go to a concert or musical with me?"

*This is important only because of my desire to have little black babies, which are so adorable. And the fact that I think a lot of black men are attractive, but have never dated any of them.
That's all it said. I checked out his profile, and it seemed pretty innocent. He even answered questions that said that he didn't smoke or drink, and so, on an impulse, I said "Ok."

We arranged to just meet last night.

He picked the spot: Gateway food court, 7 pm. So I was there, reading my Kindle, and I see these hot black men walk in. Not him. And then this kid bobs into the cafeteria, and wanders around until he settles on Hot Dog on a Stick, where he bought himself some fries and a drink. Then he found me.

He has this nerdy vibe, but he's still cute, but… I don't know. He's socially awkward, a little. And I know almost immediately that I want out. But we sit and talk, and he tells me that the Mormon religion is a cult. And harasses me about the church's history with blacks, and all kinds of other things…

Then we switch topics and he asks me what I like to do for "fun", even though I know what he's really asking. Don't ask me how I knew, but I can be perceptive some times, and even though I skirted around what he wanted to know for a few minutes by saying that I liked to travel, and I wanted to get into hiking, etc. etc. He asked again what I did for "fun", and I called him out on it. "You mean, instead of having sex?" Yes. That's what he wants to know. I just roll my eyes, and we have to have a discussion about how it's my choice and not the church ordering me what to do… blah blah blah

He asked me what's the craziest thing I've ever done and I tell him, I don't do crazy things. I'm pretty mellow. Not a thrill-seeker. And he's like, "No, what's the craziest thing you've done?" And I'm like, "Do you mean, what's the most rebellious thing I've done?" And he says yes, that is what he means. I just shrug. "Well, let's do something crazy right now," he says. "Where are the bathrooms?"

Oh, hell.

I knew what was going to happen, and I couldn't figure out a way to politely excuse myself and be done with the whole thing. So I follow him (he bounces, and I am about 10 ft behind him) to a certain point and then I stop, because duh, I'm not following him to the bathrooms.

This is where it gets uncomfortable.

He asks me how long it has been since I've made out with someone. Bad question: it's been ages. I don't know how to answer, and he surmises the truth. He asks me, "So, no sex?"

"NO. No sex."

And then he kisses me.

Despite how weird the whole thing was, and me wanting to leave, I want this to work. I want it to be good. I mean, we're not quite near the bathrooms, but we're in an alcove that is secluded. And there's a wall. He's cute (except when he walks, and speaks, and eats…) and he's black!

It doesn't last long. His lips are too big, and I don't have experience with that. I feel like it's my first kiss all over again, I'm 16 and clueless. I don't really respond, because I don't… know. I don't want this, but I sort of… confusion.

I decide it is time to go, and he clearly is going to walk me to my car, which is fine, except I'm a dimwit, and can't find my car in the parking garage. So we're wandering around in the parking garage, me trying to keep conversation on benign topics, and with him asking, "So, no sex?" He walks behind me, with his arms wrapped around me, asking why I won't have sex with him…and I'm just like, "Is this why you are online? So you can just hook up with any girl that says yes?!" He denies it, but I know it's true. So I keep going, "You are just looking for some lonely, desperate girl to hook up with?" And he's like, "Are you desperate?" No. I say it emphatically. I tell him that it wouldn't happen tonight, anyway, even if I did have sex…we've literally only known each other for an hour.

Finally, I find my car. I'm relieved, but he helps himself into my passenger seat so that I can take him to his car. But first he wants to make out in the front seat. Honestly, I had no idea how to get out of the situation, and I didn't want to be rude (residual effect of having to defend the church and its members, trying to prove that we aren't intolerant, racist, prudes), but… he kisses me again, only this time, he's getting handsy, trying to feel me up. I grab his hand and push it away and he's still trying to cop a feel and look down my shirt. He's like, "Just show me a boob." !!!!!

And I was like, "NO!" He asks me why, and I'm like, "This is all you get to see. I wear clothes for a reason." He tries to cop a feel again, and I'm done. I want him out. So I put my car in gear, and start driving out of the parking lot.

We get to his car, and he tells me to call or text him… seriously?

I still feel dirty.
Actually, it's been a few nights and I've had several discussions with friends. First, I am never doing something like this again, and I just might invest in a taser. Second, I can be blunt and forthright, and I just need to do that without worrying about hurting a dude's feelings when I want out. And lastly, who, WHO does this kind of crap actually work on?
Not only was he not a gentleman but he wasn't complimentary, he didn't behave with anything close to what the realms of human decency would allow (Um, hi, don't bash my religion for 20 minutes and then expect to get in my pants) and common courtesy... (How many times do I have to say NO?)
Anyway... it was a nightmare, and now I'm glad it's over so I can totally laugh about it.

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

I Get So Emotional, Baby

In case anyone is wondering, I LOVE living by myself.

It's probably the greatest decision ever; even if I will be broke and in the poor house by the end of my rental agreement.

Two things I've noticed, though: 1) There's nothing like unexpected guests to inspire a massive cleaning-craze. And then that craze fizzles and dies quickly. Oh well, my kitchen has now been properly clean. (Even though there's that one box still sitting there, filled with things that I probably don't need, but I don't want to throw away...)

And 2) I'm very emotional.

Meaning: I cry. A lot.

It's not the depression-cry, or the self-pity cry, or anything of that nature. It's just that I watch shows like The Office or New Girl or Parenthood and I bawl. The tears well up so easily these days, and within minutes of watching something, I've got salty tear tracks running down my cheeks, a headache, and a stuffy nose. But, it's the cleansing sort of cry, so despite the aforementioned side effects, I feel great.

So, I have a daily cry-fest, and I can feel myself getting more and more emotional throughout my day. Don't even get me started on Sunday. I feel like I'm back to being the highly emotional teenager that I was.

Why did this happen after moving in by myself? I can't say. But I also can't say that it's a bad thing. I feel like I'm getting in touch with my inner sympathetic, nice person, instead of my more cynical bitter sort of person. Over the years, I've transformed from that erratic, hormonal teenager that cried -- a lot -- to a more hardened sort... I'm not sure which is worse, but for now, I think the tears are here to stay. Just don't say anything too nice to me, or I'll be a weepy mess.

Oh goodness, and I definitely can't be watching things like this:

Wednesday, May 15, 2013


A few people have commented on my absence of posts. But most people haven't. It's not that I haven't been blogging because I've lost readership, or anything like that... I've just been really busy overhauling my life.

In the past two months I've gotten a new job, moved to a new (bigger) city, and had my car totaled. So basically, I've changed just about everything I could change, and shed the life of the 18-year old girl that moved to Utah almost nine years ago.


Everything changed when the offer of a new job in Salt Lake City. I applied only because I had a friend who was hired and casually mentioned to his wife that I should apply for a job at the same company. I put it off for over a month, but in a moment of determination to get out of my life's rut, I sent in my resume. Everything moved pretty fast from there. I interviewed, was offered the job, and gave my two weeks to the company I had worked at for three years.

There were lots of tears involved.

I loved working at KMA, and for Kevin, and I really liked what I was doing. Kevin told the guys upstairs that I was an "overachiever" because I was never content just being a secretary. Mostly everyone outside of work that I wasn't an overachiever at all. I felt like I had gone as far as I could go, and still, it was not an easy decision. When I sat down in front of Kevin to tell him I had been offered a new job, I bawled. When I got a text a few days later from him to counter the offer, I cried harder. I talked to my friends. I cried to my mom. My bishop.

And in the end, I made the decision to take the job and try a new adventure outside of Provo.

I'm still wondering what the hell I've done. (Sorry, Mom.) My new job is busy -- I've no time to play on Facebook or plan vacations I can't afford, or do any of the goofing off I did at KMA. And it's quiet. There aren't the shenanigans that would go on at KMA. And it's strict. This is a STRICT 8-5 gig; and sometimes it's 7-8. I can't just take off whenever I want, and long lunches are considered "vacation" if you are billing your hours honestly. I feel trapped and there's nothing creative about my job. My new company is very processed based. There's been a lot to learn.

My only comfort is that in the intro packet HR sent me, was the little advice that, "If you hate your job, just wait two years and it will be worth it."


I tried the commuting thing for a month and that's how I got my car totaled (see next section). It has been a painful process trying to readjust my sleeping schedule to something a little less co-ed and a little more mature adult. I hate it. And I'm tired all the time. I feel like a drug addict sitting at my desk, nodding off. Besides, the whole point of taking a new job, was so that I could get out of Provo and try my luck in Salt Lake City.

I looked for a new place everywhere... And didn't find anything that I really felt like I could live in. Until I walked into a little unit that just felt right. It felt like home. It was the only place that I could really see myself living in...and it was a little pricier than I wanted. So I tried to give it up, and kept coming back to this place.

I love it.

I love living by myself. I love the location. I have high hopes for the ward... I love that I have generous people in my life that have made it an easy transition by loaning me a queen sized bed, and helping me furnish the place with enough things to make it into a home. I. Love. It. If it turns out that I really can't afford to live like this, I will be devastated if I have to go back to a bunch of roommates.

Please bless that this place does not financially screw me over.


For the record, I do not recommend getting into an accident. Especially on the freeway during morning rush hour traffic. And especially when it is your fourth day of work.

Don't for a second think that I was at fault. The accident could have been so much worse than it was, and I think it was because I was driving: with both hands on the wheel, no radio, my phone set down on the passenger seat, out of reach; in the slow lane (for goodness sake!) that made it so that when the guy decided to merge into my car and send me spinning, I ended up in one of the safest places I could have been, and sustained only body damage to the car. (And a touch of whiplash for my troubles.)

Whenever you see insurance company commercials, they always talk about how good they are about taking care of you, as their client. They never mention how they treat the person on the other end of the deal. In case you were wondering: crappy. They don't care that it was their policy holder's fault that you are now car-less, injured, and taking "vacation" at work in order to have your car valued at less than nothing, when before you were hit it was running just fine (never mind the fact that you might have just dropped $400 on new belts for your engine...). It's all very ridiculous. And I probably would recommend getting a lawyer, just because the insurance companies would probably take you more seriously.

That being said... I probably got more money for my car from the insurance than I would have been able to sell it for. And I got to keep the car (never mind that that scenario brings a whole lot more complications, since Louise was registered in Ohio). And I bought a car from my friends (same friends who got me this job) at a supreme discount with unbeatable payment plan.

So that's my life as of late. Next thing to do: Go through the temple. And now that I have A/C in my car, it's totally doable.

Tuesday, May 14, 2013


Line of the Night: "Not enough for me? You are everything."--Jim to Pam

Watching The Office isn't supposed to make me cry.

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