We Go Together like T-Birds and Pink Ladies

A few years back I broke up with a kind hearted gentleman whom by any straight female terms was the perfect man only to later fall into the arms of a different man who was only occasionally kind hearted and made Beetlejuice look like the Prince of England. Now, you may be thinking what would possess a woman in this day and age to break up with a perfectly normal, respectable man who never cheated on her or looked at other women (or men for that matter..gotta cover my bases..) when they are as rare as a golden ticket you might find in a Willy Wonka chocolate bar. Well, I happen to be a classic example of a twenty five year old commitment phob. I, however, up until recently had never had such a fantastical realization.  I believed, as many idealistic young women do, that I would find the perfect man, my own prince charming, and be instantly falling over myself in love and contentment. We would live happily ever after in our two-story house, picket fenced yard with our two point five children.

 However, as we all know life does not always follow suit.

Although it's one of my favorite childhood movies (and perhaps that's the real problem) I can’t help but blame Grease for my coming of age dilemmas. You may be wondering why Grease and not some fairy tale romance to the likings of Cinderella or Sleeping Beauty would cause me to wind up with such an oxymoronic predicament as being a commitment phobic hopeless romantic. Grease, with its cast of high school somebodies and its sexually driven catchy pop culture spew of songs, made me believe as a wide eyed twelve year old that I should have found my soul mate by the time I was a senior in high school. A tall order if you ask one gawky tomboy sixth grader as I happened to be at the time of consuming this pop culture phenomena. After the 15th replay of  Danny and Sandy's rendition of "Summer Nights" and "You're the One that I Want" I was officially a lifetime member of Gen Y-ers that subscribed to the belief of  “soul” mates.

For whatever reason, and I trust God’s plan in this, at 25 years old I still have yet to find the man who will kick my commitment phobic butt into long term planning mode, my very own Danny Zuko. Despite the lack of a diamond on my ring finger I find myself in a place of comfort and contentment. I am comforted because I realized that if shopping for china or picking out colors for a baby room is not in the stars, I am still surrounded by  the most genuinely thoughtful and caring friends a girl could ask for. These women have shown me enough love and undying support to make up for the picket fence and half a child I am currently void of.

        I may not have yet found my mate, but I am one lucky lady because I have found six very beautiful souls.

(Left to Right: Claudia, Leah, Megan, Samantha, Me (Lindsey), Courtney, Annie)

Online Dating & the Men that Make it Worse

       I should have known when the guy I had been talking to online drove 1700 miles and planted his Cillian Murphy looking self on my doorstep without any sort of notice that online dating would never take me anywhere in life. In fact, it would only make my pinch of a love life seem absolutely more desperate. Like I couldn’t find someone even if I was searching through the depths of the internet, a place that the saddest of sad are given false hope through websites with names like “okcupid.” I’m embarrassed even typing that name; imagine how my love life feels.

I know, I know, you’re probably saying “Um yeah, except, like I totally know a couple that met on Match and they, like, TOTALLY belong together.” If you are saying that, you may or may not be right. You also may or may not need to go back to school. 

However, that is similar to saying that one shade of brown and one shade of grey looked great together ONCE; there are literally billions of people in existence, of course some of them are going to find love in the weirdest places possible. John and Yoko? Sometimes it just works.

Last year, I went through a period where I really thought online dating might be the answer to all of my unanswered questions; where are all the hot dorks hiding? How do I meet guys without having to approach them? What’s a good way to mask my insecurities? The internet, duh! The craziest part is that I didn’t give up after the first terribly shy, “much shorter than he said on his profile” date (there were plenty more of them); I was persistent in my defeat. The guys I went out with were not my type, but the part that still stings is that, typed out, they fit like a glove. 

A few months ago, I went on a date with a guy that had a profile that oh-so-perfectly veiled his lack of charm (he swore by his love for cheese...the man knew his way to my heart from the get go). This gentleman brought a six pack of beer to my house, drank four of them and made a full-hearted and unnerved effort to come back minutes after he had left to get the two stragglers out of the fridge. And who says chivalry is dead, ladies?

It’s sad that I can hardly remember the name of any of the guys I went on these dates with. I never thought that I’d be the type of girl that couldn’t remember a guy’s name that she talked to for weeks, but the truth is, dating guy after guy after guy was exhausting and made each date less special, less exciting, less hopeful. 

After a few more bad dates, I felt like my love life had been wounded, shocked, completely destroyed with the power of one crappy website and a handful of men that were either born to be car salesmen, or made SO little eye contact that I’m not actually sure they even had eyes.

Maybe I’m just old fashioned (I’m not) or just tired of feeling like I’m crazy for making bad jokes on dates with men that seemed like they’d appreciate them (they didn’t), but online dating isn’t for this girl. I think I’ll meet my Yoko in the real world; I’ll take my chances.