Plenty of Freaks and OK Nope

Hey guys. It’s been a minute, but I’m back. I know those who know me are anxiously awaiting my aerial yoga post. Yes, I went to a type of yoga that requires upper body and ab strength, agility, and gracefulness-all of which I do not have. Wait for it. It’s coming, and it’ll be good. 

For now, I must discuss the state of the single-and-dating-world, as that is where I am firmly planted. For now. 

OMG, ya’ll. It’s fucking terrifying. 

Like, so scary. So.scary. 

OMG. 

Remember when I said I was going to share a new personal challenge with you? Well, I’ve already begun miserably failing at it. I’m just a fucking rockstar at life. 

I was going to challenge myself to a year of being single. It’s what everyone is saying I need. So, it must be what I need. I see the value in figuring out who I am as a single person before I jump back into a relationship. I see how giving myself a significant amount of time to heal is a smart thing. I get it. But, as with all things easier said than done. 

Literally two days after I posted that I would be challenging myself to something pretty hardcore, I signed up for Plenty of Fish. 

This kind of erratic, bipolar-esque behavior explains a lot in my life.

I’m now on Plenty of Fish and OK Cupid. 

Help me. 

If the majority of the men I’ve been contacted by and interacted with thus far is any indication of how my dating life will go, I’ll be single for a hell of a lot longer than a year. 

I don’t even have the words to fully express my horror/disdain/disappointment, so I’ll just share a few screenshots. I didn’t get the idea to write on this topic before I deleted many a message, so just know, these are just the fucking tip of the iceberg. 

Please share in my pain:


Now, obviously this dude just wants a night of fun. Maybe some woman out there wants one too. Nothing wrong with that. What is wrong is that he “wood” really like me to watch him in a “golf tournament”. Also, not one period or comma. Not.a.one.


When “wanna hang out” doesn’t work, just let it go. Where’s your dignity, man?!


Damn*

Nope.

This one was actually kind of sweet, but please don’t let me know you’re well-endowed in your very first message. And, as a teacher, I’m appalled at the lack of punctuation. The horror!! 


This one…I don’t even…I can’t. I just…have no words. 


Gross. 

OK, the jig is up, ladies. Who’s responding to these sick, macho, sexist, ignorant, and just plain gross “pick up lines”? Obviously, these men think this crap works. There are two possible explanations:

1: It works at least once. I need to find these women to slap some fucking common sense into them, if even possible. 

2: They are truly mentally handicapped, ignorant by choice, or they were taught this is how you pick up women. 

Either way, I’m terrified. I think I’m back to working on my challenge. A life being the crazy cat lady who smells of cans of Whiskas and Bengay isn’t looking so terrible. 


The Apartment

OH BOY, GUYS. I thought I was good, but I didn’t realize how hard it was going to be to move into a new apartment without the guy I spent almost five years with. Alone. Just me. 

The night before last I was exhausted, overwhelmed, and a late night trip to Home Depot was necessary. I almost starting crying in the pipe fittings isle. I felt alone, scared, and stressed. 

I feel better off and on. One moment I’m excited for my new makeup table that used to be my entry table, and the next I’m feeling horribly heartbroken that I won’t be tripping over his behemoth shoes anymore (this is craziness, as who would miss this…).

Yesterday, my aunt, mom and good friend  (plus her hubby) helped me move my new bed and couch into my apartment. The presence of loved ones in my new place helped immensely with making it feel more like home. It also helps as I put more and more of my things inside. 

It’ll get better. It just takes time. Time is a bitch, though.

Here is a video I took the night I got my keys. I’ll video again when everything is in place. 

Independence Day

I think most have surmised that there’s been some recent changes in my life. I almost went off to England. Alone. And now I’m apartment searching. Alone. 

Yup. 

I’m single and ready to mingle. 

Just kidding. I’m single and ready for some peace, and some much needed soul searching. 

Right now my priority is finding a place to live. 

It has not been easy due to some uncertainty surrounding the whens, hows, and the that-costs-how-muchs. The rental market where I live right now is slim and what you see is what you get. If you don’t jump right on the first half decent place you see, it’s gone the next day. I’m not exactly too picky, but I also don’t want to live in my city’s equivalent of Compton.

So, I’ll just say it’s been…interesting, the search for an apartment. I think I’ll add disappointing, scary, and fun, just to mix it up.

Yesterday, I got to tour a studio apartment in one of the oldest complexes in the city. The vintage charm was just oozing out of the Art Deco windows. There were even little milk delivery boxes. I couldn’t even. 



The apparent charm and ideal location were the only two pros with this place. There were holes in the walls, the lobby and hallway carpets were filthy, and the wood was just being left to rot. It was sad.

The search for the perfect apartment is, of course, disappointing because $425 a month in one of the most coveted areas is, in fact, too good to be true. 

Also, it’s scary to think that someone actually thinks anyone sane would  want to rent a place that houses one of the seven gates of hell. There was a crawl space door located in the closest that went forever into the abyss of your worst nightmares. *NERP. 

I love looking at houses and apartments, even when they end up being a big “nope”. I don’t know if it’s a woman thing, but every potential home I go into is an empty canvas that I can envision putting my mark on. Unless it’s scary and crack den-ish (I’ve never been in one, but I think it would be hard to work, decoratively, around the crack). 

Here’s a video I took of the apartment from yesterday. 


For some reason, my voice sounds kind of Valley Girl-ish. Forgive me. 

Wish me luck on my continued search! 

​*Thanks, Lori! 

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