In the good ‘ole days – or at least as I imagine them – a man would squire a woman with spoken, confident intent. He would locate said woman, who was likely doing something ‘womanly,’ and say something like “I desire for you to be mine” or “let’s begin a scripted march toward marriage.”
Last week, after several weeks of ‘pawing’ around the issue, I made the decision to adopt a 2-year-old American Bulldog named Buddy. He’s a rescue pup, and he’s been through numerous hellish ordeals in his relatively short life. I’m excited to have him, but at the same time – and, as my long period of indecision would indicate – I’m nervous, too.
After a tearful, dramatic goodbye, I was single again after roughly two years in a relationship. I had just turned 22 and, as foolish as it sounds now, I felt like I’d been complicit in dealing a death sentence to my own love life. Without a doubt, it was over for me. And I had to pick up the pieces of my own broken heart, too.
To call it a dramatic moment, and the gateway to a period of major self-doubt, would be an on-point observation. But the days passed. I made progress on some days and I took steps backward on others. Eventually, though, I moved on. And I entered one of the most eye-opening, personally satisfying periods of my life.
From time to time, I get asked my opinion on online dating. In the past couple of weeks, though, I’ve had more people bring it up than usual. And for clarity’s sake, when they refer to “online dating,” they’re usually referring to Match.com and eHarmony. Not Facebook and Instagram.
The question I get asked, of course, is “do you have anything against online dating?”
And I always answer the same way: “Of course not.”
Well, I’ve been lying.
In this blog, it’s easy for me to come across as a stinging, straight-talking dating opinionaire (a word I just made up), but that’s because I spend most of my time telling you what not to do. It gets harder to be candid – and convincing – when I try to speak convincingly about things you should do.
Why? Because I’m kind of bad at dating.
Here are four reasons why:
Hey there, everyone. It’s me again. The guy who hounded you for two months to support him in his efforts to write a book called ’10 Phases of Dating.’ And boy, did you ever. You helped me hit my Kickstarter goal and it still gives me chills to realize that nearly SIXTY people contributed to this project. SIXTY. That tells me a couple of things: 1. I was adequately aggressive in beating you into submission to support the project. And 2. You really do believe in me and my ability.
With that said, I’ve got good news and bad news about the project (Not that bad; I’m just being dramatic). Want the bad news first? Yeah, I don’t blame you on that choice. Okay, here it goes:
I’ve written four chapters so far. And they all suck.
I don’t claim to be a dating expert; never have. And should my good fortunes land me in a high-ranking publication with a much larger audience, I still won’t consider myself an expert then. Which means, to some degree, I shouldn’t be disagreeing with real “experts,” right? Screw it.
Tomorrow morning, I will board a flight to Rochester, NY for a special occasion: the wedding of my baby cousin, Meghan (she’s 25, I’m 28 – that makes her a baby). When she got engaged, it got me a little choked up. Between her sister and brother, I’m blessed to say I’ve been extremely close with my cousins from the time they were born, and now, into our adulthood.
As I prepare for this trip, I’m truly happy for Meghan – and not just in the “this is the right thing to say” kind of way. Because I know that she and her fiancée Joe believe this – that in a world of broken love, it’s still the most beautiful thing worth fighting for. And this is coming from a guy who loved hard for the better part of two years and took *cough* nearly as long to move on from it. A bitter, cruel pill to swallow. And I swear it’s still the best thing worth experiencing in life.
Today I “celebrate” the 10 year anniversary of a car accident that nearly claimed my life. I’ve reposted this story – made some improvements along the way – on the anniversary of it each of the past five years. 10 years may be overkill, though, and this will probably be the last year I re-share it.
No matter how I lead up to this or what you read in my story, it’s going to seem like I’m being dramatic, but I’m pretty sure the story does that itself. To say that night changed the course of my life would be an understatement. It gave me the courage to leave for South Florida a year later and, eventually, put into me a fervor and appreciation for life that I try to hold onto daily.
I’ve copied and pasted a story that I wrote for a class several years ago about that night. For one, maybe you’ll read it and learn something significant that you didn’t know about me, and two, I rarely get personal on my blog and this is one of those rare instances.
Boys and girls, on a rare occasion, I like to share posts/information from friends who’ve written something that I find to be, well, compelling. My friend Amanda Gonzalez wrote the following blog, so if you love it, I can’t take credit for it. She’s a woman, in case you know any guys named Amanda and needed clarification. And I think that her story resonates quite a bit with many of the woman who’ve become readers of my blog. I enjoyed it quite a bit. I’m sure you will, too.