Online Dating: Take Two (hundred million thousand fifty)

You would think that after the horror stories of my dating life I would know better by now but I continually believe that there has to be someone out there for me and I can’t help but remain optimistic DESPITE my better judgement.  This is a good and bad thing- good in that I have endless embarrassing stories that my poor friends are forced to hear about all goddamn day and bad because THIS IS REAL LIFE AND I HAVE TO LIVE THIS AND ACTUALLY BE ON THESE DATES. It’s one thing to hear about a bad date or watch one on TV but it is quite another story when you are sitting across from someone who is regaling you about the time they got in a fist fight and almost broke their ex-girlfriends nose with a cell phone. After initially worrying for my safety and searching for my mace I realized it mayyyyy be time for a little online dating break.

This is classic me.  I get all hopped up on adrenaline and hope and power through several dates for a few months then I get burnt out and depressed while I sit in the fetal position under my desk questioning my life choices. Here are some things I’ve learned about myself and the dating game in my ahem..30's...(ugh) Pay attention people! 

1) Planning – WHY IS THIS SO DIFFICULT for people in general? Set a time and date and stick to it. Ideally I would like to know on Monday or Tuesday if we are hanging out that weekend. Does that seem crazy and high maintenance? I’m genuinely asking (for a friend). Like is it too much that you give me a heads up so I can properly plan my life? 

2) Show up. You would be amaaaaaaazed how many dates I had planned where the guy genuinely didn’t respond the day of our already set date and then I just never heard from them again. THANK GOD I never went to the actual places and waited like some dumb sap, but it was very likely that I could of! Word to the wise… be sure you have day-of-confirmation.

3) Make a decision. YOU choose where we are going. You figure out a fucking place. Man up. If I tell you I live in Laguna Niguel and work in Irvine – I can name 40 places right now that would work. So you choose one and stick to it. Let’s not go back and forth with “Hey,” texts for days because I CAN’T.  Hey yourself and fuck yourself and lets just rip that band aid and see if there is a shred of chemistry because why am I wasting my witty banter on some toad.

4)“2 drink max” is for real a legit thing and it absolutely blows. I know this is a Patti Stanger original and I never wanted to get on board but she is so friggin’ right. My girlfriend made me stick to it when she was ghost writing for me on a site called zoosk, so I figured I at least owed it to her to stay somewhat sober on these things so I could actually gage who and what these guys were about. I can literally talk to anyyyyyyyone and evvvvvveryone is remotely cute to me after 3 drinks so I had to keep my wits about me. It was painful and unfortunate but I found out after 2 or 3 dates if I liked the guy or not. And I would have wasted a lot of time with some real losers if I was drinking any more than I already do (which is a lot)  

5) Fuck coffee dates – this is kinda true, ok actually not entirely true. I had a good coffee date with an ex-baseball player – but that was only because we went walking on the beach after but then he turned out to be insane and he made me order a piece of cheesecake FOR HIS MOTHER TO-GO and he made me stop at Sports Authority because they were having a sale and he needed SNEAKERS and GYM WEAR, and kept asking me to go back to his dad’s BOAT. Needless to say, nothing good comes from a coffee date.

6) Don’t ask me to send you a fucking pic EVER until we have established we are in a relationship  and even then it should be a rare, fun sexy pic to spice things up, not a SELFIE in broad daylight, What is the point? This is a real thing that happened.... Started texting with a guy, he said "good morning beautiful" (also never say that ever) and I said hi back and he said "may I have a pic of you" then he sent a selfie of himself (gross) But he was cute so I genuinely asked him, do people just catfish on this all day? There are like 5 photos of me on my bumble profile, And he said "Well for me I'm a very visual person so I will probably ask more than once" (Okaaaaaaaaaaaaaay) and he said yes people catfish. So i took a dreaded selfie which i NEVER normally do, I'm actually the most terrible at them in all the world. Things were fine and actually seemed somewhat normal. Until today when he said "hi, how's your day, may I see your pretty face?" YOU JUST SAW IT YESSSSSSTERDAY, it's still the same buddy. You will see me later (or you won't) but what creepy things are you doing where you need a pic a day. I responded with, I'm honestly not comfortable sending any more pics at this point until we meet up and if I actually like you. RADIO SILENCE. Like i will never heard from him again which is fine considering he is probably some psycho collecting girls' selfie photos all day and sewing a dress made out of skin. 

7) I certainly don’t want a selfie of you…. maybe ever.  Same goes for dick pics but that should be self-explanatory -those are strictly for gay dating apps and craigslist.

That's all I have for right now. I'm taking a much needed break from this hellhole. Stay tuned. 

Working title...

I couldn’t decide on a title so here are a few working ones:

• ·         The Fat Girls Guide to not looking (and feeling) like a piece of garbage.
• ·         A How-To guide for the girl that emotionally eats
• ·         Becoming the girl I hate
• ·         Is life even fun without food?

First let me just recap my Grit Cycle class this morning at 7AM. *Note: this would have never happened and I would have laughed at you (then smacked you) if you told me to take this class. I walk in and immediately say out loud to my impossibly skinny and beautiful younger sister (who works really fucking hard at it and basically eats nothing and is sober so count me out right there) “Jesus, these people are so intense and like lovvvve to cycle, oh god (eye rolls for days)." I thought the Costa Mesa location and the title “Grit Cycle” might be filled with more salt of the earth people if you will-- a little less Newport Beach and certainly not “Soul Cycle.” I don’t need anyone telling me to “reach your dreams!” and “believe in yourself!” at 7am. I don’t start believing in myself until at least 9 thank you very much! I need loud music and darkness. And I got that at Grit.

We went to our bikes and I noticed the male instructor is sitting next to what looks like a runway model up in the front showing everyone what to do. Her name, we later learn, is Chanel – of course it is. Her HAIR WAS DOWN, she was wearing just a sports bra (which those of you who know me know this is a cardinal sin) not a drop of sweat while I’m over here in a Michael Phelps Olympic-size pool of sweat around my drowning bike—mind you the class has not started yet.

At one point the lights were turned down low and I looked up and everything looked super blurry and I thought this is it, I’m gonna faint and my upper body is going to collapse over the side of my bike while my feet are still clipped in and I’ll look like a fat version of those blow up “Air Dancers” at the car dealership when they get deflated. I then realized it was just the room steaming up and there was fog on the mirror, I was fine, I’m not dying (Fuck, that means I need to keep pedaling.)

The music was bumping (yah I said bumping) and Chanel was entrancing me with her abs and I found myself working harder and really pushing myself. Also, the fact that this class was $22 I was going to get my money’s worth and work my legs into oblivion. For those of you who say “it’s like being in a club” I would say that’s a HARD NO and it would be like a club if you enjoy clubs where you want to die and you’re in a lot of pain and there’s no drinking or dancing. Thank god for those brief moments in between death where they turn the lights all the way off so you can be alone in your shame while you frantically breathe for 30 seconds and look around the room looking for a sane friend who understands this is totally nuts right—only no one is that friend. And you’re alone again.

 Despite all of it I have to say I left that class feeling strong as fuck and I’m not sure if it was the class or the Stumptown cold brew I treated myself to after that has me fucking AMPED (as I’m furiously typing this and tapping my feet and listening to Pandora dubstep and basically losing my miiiiind) I think it’s more of the fact that I’m doing things out of my comfort zone and you don’t realize how strong your body is, like the fact that I’m still alive truly astounds me.  With that in mind I move on to my next topic. One I hold near and dear to my heart. Food.

Let me begin with a short embarrassing background. I’m the girl who lived for McDonalds. Many of my loved ones knew my standard order: 2 Plain McDoubles (which is a total of 4 horrifying patties for you mathematicians out there) a large fry, a large coke, and maybe a 6 pc chicken nugget depending on how hungover I was, or it could be a well-lit afternoon and I was completely sober, which is even more upsetting to some. I was known to purchase a tub (yes tub) of Cheeto balls at the local CVS, and bacon and egg and cheese bagels were my go-to “snack.” My meals consisted of bread and cheese and the colors were usually white, yellow, orange or a combination of all three.  A rare glimpse into my life is an unforgettable tale of me heading to the drive thru of one said McDonald’s where the employee commented, “you come here a lot, and you’re always wearing black.” I would like to say that that is where it all stopped, but I cannot. The only thing that changed was which location I began to frequent.

One evening I literally woke up at 3AM (Satan’s hour apparently) It could have been my clogged arteries but my heart was pounding and I started to cry. I just wasn’t happy anymore, it wasn’t funny anymore and I didn’t feel good in my body. I called an angel from heaven, a nutritionist and friend Heather and just cried. I said, I will be your toughest client, I hate salads and anything with vegetables, I eat for comfort and celebration and sadness and food is my friend. It’s what I look forward to. HELP! God bless her for the rest of eternity. This woman taught (and is still teaching) me a million things and one of which is how to change the way I think about food and the way I was living. I really was trapped in a prison of denial and shielding myself from the dirty awful truth that it was time for a change.  I would tell myself over and over that donut is worth being fat. That pint of ice cream was the quickest form of instant gratification. Nothing could compare to those first few bites.

UNTIL I tried this new lifestyle-- I too hate the word lifestyle. I should just say new way of living. I nevvvvvvvver would have thought I would be a basic bitch at a cycle class looking forward to making my protein style burger and parsnip fries and an Epsom salt bath on a Friday night. But I am. That’s me now. Without realizing it I started to work through shit without the crutch of food. What is there to look forward to if not a greasy meal that made me feel like shit immediately after shoveling it in my mouth? I had to do some deep searching and sit quietly with my own horrific thoughts and be honest with myself. What do I want? Don’t I deserve to feel good in my own skin? Can I still be funny and fun and not “that girl” who has an awful confusing “gluten-free” order at a restaurant. I always hated that girl, and I’m now starting to realize that that girl is fucking smart because she’s able to order what she wants – eat things that taste good but still fit into pants and look good in a bikini and not be self-conscious. I want to be that girl! And I’m becoming that girl. Also what’s scary is, and I’m misquoting it for sure but I read somewhere when we become physically smaller we are actually more visible to those around us. I am on display and getting compliments is weird and tricky for me.  I still have a long way to go so any little comments I just say thanks and move on quickly because I don’t want to give up and I want to keep going! Also, this time around I’m focused on how I feel, not what I look like. Which you hear a million times a day from idiots like me but it doesn’t quite sink in until you actually have energy, and your skin is glowing and people start to just notice little changes.

And haters gonna hate but one thing I can say, and I’m quoting Kathryn Edwards from the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, “it’s hard work bitch.” At least 8 times a day I have to say “no thanks” or “I’m good.” And you will get comments from your friends, thank god I have good ones who were mainly already all healthy anyway and I really am the last one to show up to this health kick party. But of course coming from the girl who lived on quesadillas it’s going to sound strange when I ask our server if they have any organic red wine.  But soon people start to cheer you on and say good job and I’m so proud of you. And those are the comments I live for and I say them to myself every morning. Yes, I have to bring meals to work I have to cook and do lots of dishes and I do something physical evvvvery day. Like even when I want to die and sit on my ass there’s some stupid voice now telling me you will sleep so much better and feel so much better and it’s a beautiful day even if it’s just a 30 min walk. FUCK THAT VOICE, we have a love/hate relationship.  But in the end, and it’s so not the end, I gave myself a year to test out this whole, “is life really a lot better when you eat healthy and work out and take care of yourself” craze. So far it really is. (and I'm still catching myself saying "gross" even after writing that sentence, but it really is so shut up Tanya, embrace it you gorgeous fool!)