Eight Years of Face-crack and the Ceiling

As a self-proclaimed extrovert, I really love reaching out to people. I get the bulk of my energy from connecting with friends, sharing jokes, talking about current events (like the talking slug with the shitty toupee, get a load of that guy), and being around people. Since many of my friends don’t live in the same city as I do, I do a not insignificant amount of reaching out to people on social media. Usually this is a great way to connect with people, and I’m grateful for the people I can still keep in touch with through social media, even if I don’t speak to them every day. I can see all the great things my friends are up to, the strides they make as they evolve into professionals, homeowners, spouses, entrepreneurs, artists, whatever you can think of. It puts a genuine smile on my face that they’re doing fucking amazing things with their lives, and that I am someone they have chosen to share their proudest moments with. It’s like being a part of an exclusive club.

 

Sometimes, though, I’ll admit that I tend to grapple pretty fiercely with envy. I won’t deny it. Though I love to see people succeed, I tend to wonder why not me? Why don’t I have a house that I own? Why don’t I get to get married and settle down? What part of me is so awful that I don’t deserve to have those things in my life?

 

But then I put my goddamn whisky down for a second and reflect.

 

What do I post on social media? Well, only the really good things I want people to see, duh! I only have to look so far as my profile pictures to reaffirm that. I only post the most bomb-ass selfies where I look cute as fuck, I’m not gonna post the ugly-ass Snapchat pictures I send to people; those are reserved for the people who have seen me be genuinely ugly and still love me anyway. I’ll share a memory of a hilarious meme I found four years ago, not that self-indulgent, whiny Facebook status I made at the age of 17 about a guy not liking me back (spoiler alert: I wasted far more time than was necessary on Mr. Mediocre). Why share those when I can post self-indulgent, whiny blog posts at 24 under the guise of self-depreciating humour and self-actualization? It’s called being a twentysomething, dammit, and I’m doing it well!

 

I then wonder why would it be different for any of my peers? They’ll post pictures of their new home, not a picture of all the paperwork, moving pains, and sacrifices they had to make to be able to afford that down payment. Someone will post a picture of their toddler being adorable, probably not posting a picture about how said toddler, two hours later, threw their not-even-kind-of empty diaper across their room, getting shit literally EVERYWHERE! When I hear stories about poo getting on the ceiling, a small part of me is still mystified like “oh, holy shit, that can’t be real!” But I’ve seen the poop on the ceiling, guys.

 

Everybody chooses how they present themselves online, and, myself included, will put their best versions of themselves online. I’ll post the cute selfie, not the one that makes me look like I’ve got a wonky eye. I’m gonna post jokes about nihilism and pessimism while glossing over the fact that, yeah, maybe I’m sad about *insert insignificant thing I’ve turned into a huge issue here*. My chef friends are going to post photos of their finished creations, not that big-ass pile of dishes that now lie in the sink, or the hours of practice it took to perfect that souffle. My friends who hunt will post a picture of the buck they managed to shoot for the season, not document their entire time getting their hunting and firearms licenses.

 

The next time I peruse my Facebook feed, and start to feel a little blue about how someone is going to travel the world, I need to remember that everybody’s got their own metaphorical poop on the ceiling. Everyone.

 

Rianna

5 Things I Learned When I Tried Online Dating

Reader’s Caution: I talk about dicks in this post. Take that as you will.

The scene: my living room floor towards the end of April 2014. I was hungover as shit with my then-roommate, complaining about how I couldn’t meet a man, and (my abysmal academic performance aside) my time at college was a total bust in terms of finding a summer fling or a boyfriend. I mean, I’d found a dude to spend the summer of 2013 with (and we all know how that went…terribly), so I was all distraught that I didn’t have the same luck this summer. She was in the process of setting up an account on a dating site and suggested that I do the same.

So fuck YES, I made an account. I went through several pictures of myself and found the absolute cutest ones I could find, and filled out the profile in the only way I know how to communicate via text: brutally honestly and with too many personal details. I wrote a small novel about how I like Guinness and chicken wings and hate country music. It was nothing overly exciting; I just mentioned my interests and how badly I wanted to move to Edmonton in the next year (spoilers: that didn’t happen). I activated my account and started checking out the local dudes in my area.

Little did I know that…

5)          What Someone Thinks is “Mysterious” Can (And Will) Come Across as Lazy

I can’t tell you how many profiles that I went through where all I got from the guy’s profile was “msg me to get to know me” or “quaddin muddin partys” (at the low-end of the spectrum). A not insignificant amount of gentlemen I communicated with often times had one sentence in regards to details about themselves: “Anything you want to know, ask.”

Several of these guys weren’t looking for anything too serious in terms of relationships, which is understandable. The people I talked to were in their early to mid-twenties, and were enjoying their freedom, not unlike myself. I have no issues with wanting to explore your options if you’re single. That’s what being a young adult is about (and I will use this to justify all of my actions from now until I’m at LEAST 27).

But that’s not what irked me about these profiles.

Awful spelling and grammar aside, this shows me (and several straight women who I’m assuming these guys were trying to attract) that these people are unwilling to put even the most minimal effort to gain or keep my interest. These guys don’t owe me a goddamn thing, but one would think that people on a dating site would put some effort into being at least semi-interesting. I don’t particularly enjoy “muddin” or “quaddin”, but I’m totally down with “partys”. Bring me a couple of six packs of Guinness and some chicken wings and I’ll be there! Hell, I’ll bring the beer and wings! But that can’t be ALL that define these guys as people. If it is, that person is not the person for me. However those short bullshit “About Me” sentence fragments that some people use in an effort to get women to reach out to them aren’t really doing the trick. If there’s absolutely nothing a person can say about themselves besides “msg me to get to know me”, how can I assume that there’s anything of interest to ask someone about? I need something to wonder about. I need something to build from in an effort to start a conversation. I want to talk to people, I don’t want to carry the conversation by myself.

I think the worst of the worst were the handful of guys who actually put in their profile “I’m not here to impress you.”

Um….

This is a dating site and these guys were looking for someone to spend time with (whether it be just for sex, or a summer fling, or a girlfriend). So yes, sir, you ARE here to impress me, and so far, your ham-fisted attempt at “edgy” is…interesting. The teen angst that emanates from that statement is enough to make me want to stay far, far away from you. However I have to give props to the guys using this line for giving me something to write about though. So in a sense, gentlemen, you have impressed me, even though it was for the purposes not intended.

4)          My Wordiness Scares People

I’ll be the first person to admit that whenever I write anything I’m passionate about (basically myself since I’m narcissistic as fuck), I tend to ramble, meander, and take up far more screen space than I should. My dating profile was no different; I used no less than 700 words to describe myself, my love of written word, and my disdain for 70% of “country” culture. Frankly the fact that I kept the word count at less than 1000 was pretty impressive to me.

This makes me a hit at parties in rural Alberta.

I’ll also admit that I used a short story’s worth of space to describe myself for two reasons:

• To be as completely honest about myself as I could, love of booze, trust issues, and city slicker ways and all. I don’t want to lie about myself since I’m already amazing.
• To weed out people who don’t like to read or think. I love these things, and I tend to dislike people who don’t at LEAST like a good book every now and then.

However my profile wasn’t as successful as I would have hoped in attracting bookish, argumentative people. Since I’m the type of person who loves to read profiles in an effort to get a general idea about whom I’m talking to, I genuinely thought that the guys were doing the same.

I can’t tell you how many guys messaged me just to see if I “would spend an evening with them; [I’d] be paid well”, or dudes who were literally just looking for someone to stick their dick into that night. That’s their prerogative; I was there to find a boyfriend, so nope. Nope. NOPE. Now I’m not exactly sure what it is about me that says “I’m a prostitute; leave your cash on the dresser and hit the door,” but propositions like that were NOT what I expected when I went on this dating site.

I’m obviously a lady of the night.

The  guys that read my profile (or at least skimmed it) fell into two distinct camps: the guys who insulted something about me when I let them know I wasn’t interested in them, and the guys who wanted to prove that I was lying. There was some dude from back east who insisted on just calling me “sexy” and spam messaging me, even after I told him to call me “Rianna” since that’s my name. For some reason he got really butthurt at this unreasonable request and actually messaged me a few days after that and he said “ur profile is to much.”

“It’s to weed out the stupid people.” I replied.

“Oh are you saying im stupid”

And I didn’t bother messaging him back after that, because as my mom (and every mom and mom-figure ever) will say, “If you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all.” What do I say to that message? “Yes, that’s exactly what I’m saying.” It might be true, but it’s not something I’d be comfortable admitting. I got called a “stuck-up bitch” a lot during my time online dating; I don’t really need to act that way all the time.

Speaking of “proving that I’m lying”…

3)          Handle Some Dudes’ Egos Like You’d Handle Their Balls: Gently and Like They’ll Break

In online dating there were quite a few guys that I had messaged who didn’t find me interesting or attractive in any way whatsoever and never messaged me back or just told me that they weren’t interested. It was a bit of a pain to my ego, but that’s what happens. I can’t force someone to be interested in me, no matter how witty I am, or how fiercely I winged my eyeliner that day. I’m just not what a lot of guys are looking for (most guys look for classy women, which I am not).

I want you to guess how some of the guys I rejected wound up reacting.

Seriously. I want you to write down your thoughts in the comment section below.

Hint: there’s a pretty good idea of how at least a dozen guys handled my “no” in the previous entry.

Instead of saying “oh, that sucks” or “thank you for your honesty” or just leaving me the fuck alone, some guys got extra persistent in trying to get me to meet up with them, like “come on, it’ll be fun” or “ur missing out” or just calling me a bitch, because these dudes were creative. I got called a “stuck-up bitch” or I was informed that I “wasn’t that hot anyway” at least a dozen times. The first couple of times those comments stung, but it also reinforced the fact that I was making the right decision by not going for drinks with these dudes anyway.

There was an occasion where a guy called me stupid (in jest) since I didn’t find things he said particularly funny. This was directly after I failed the shit out of university-level chemistry and I already felt like a failure, so it was a joke that hit a little too close to home. When I told him that wasn’t funny, and it actually stung a little, he made a point to tell me how little a sense of humour I had, and how “the truth finally comes out, eh?” like I was lying about having a sense of humour. I dunno, maybe it’s wrong to let someone know what you’re not okay with joking around about. Or maybe it’s because he wasn’t that funny to begin with, and that I actually like smart humour, and that makes me a bad person. Does that make me a stuck-up bitch? It might. Does that prove that I have no sense of humour? Nope.

2)          Apparently I’m Weird For Not Wanting Dick Pics and Descriptions of Dicks From Random 30-Year-Olds on the Internet

I abused the shit out of the “block” button  for this exact reason.

Now, I can appreciate a penis as much as the next straight woman who enjoys sex. I’ve always been perfectly honest about being sexually active. And I’m straight, so that’s neat. That being said, a penis can only be truly appreciated if both parties are expecting it to be out and about and ready for action. Consent is sexy; this thought also extends to dick pics.

Apparently some dudes missed the memo.

Usually on Fridays or Saturdays, there would be a perfectly nice, normal, kinda drunk dude who would be messaging me looking for someone to “cuddle” with. And as I’m trying to exit the conversation and go to bed in the most polite ways I can think of, I’d get a dick pic. I wouldn’t get a warning, or even asked if I wanted to see his penis. I just get a message with a dick in it. Sometimes the dude would get extra romantic and put a winky face next to it 😉 That usually warranted a “what the fuck is wrong with you?” and hitting the “block” button so hard I cracked my iPhone screen in the process. Though sometimes before I could hit the block button, I would get the message “stuck-up bitch” or “you’re a prude, aren’t you?” sent to me. How dare I get freaked out and angry that someone would just whip their dick out?

If it wasn’t a picture of a dick, it was describing it to me. There were at least three guys who (mid-conversation about literally anything but sex) would just randomly interject “I’m so hard right now” or “my cock is so hard” for no goddamn reason.

Goddamit, that’s not how you get any person interested in sex with you! A euphemism for sex is “bumping uglies” for a reason. Genitals aren’t cute. I’m not gonna send a dude a picture of my downstairs mixup or my butthole in an effort to get laid. That’s….no. I’m pretty sure that’s considered sexual harassment. When you send an unsolicited dick pic to me, I automatically assume that you moonlight as a flasher in an overcoat in your spare time. I also assume that mothers don’t let their children talk to “the weird man with his business hanging out”. I just assume that you can’t function normally in society without the supervision of a competent adult within five feet of you at all times. I also assume that you’re tacky and I probably hate you.

1)          It’s Actually Good For Meeting People

This may come as a surprise to people who read this far, but I have actually talked to quite a few nice guys online.

Some people aren’t obsessed with the written word like I am, so their descriptions of themselves may leave something to be desired. If they seem like nice people, it’s definitely worth the effort to at least say “hi” to them. Some people have just gotten out of relationships, so they’re trying to put themselves out there in order to meet new people (as my former roommate had done). The guys I talked to who did just come out of relationships were really sweet and forthcoming with their situation, and I can appreciate that. The honesty caught me off-guard and I wasn’t quite ready for that level of honesty in the first few messages I exchanged with one guy. Another wasn’t quite over his ex-girlfriend, and I figured my irresponsible ass wasn’t going to be the best way for him to move on; I didn’t want to waste his time.

There was a guy whom I had talked to who wanted to meet me since I “didn’t seem bitchy”, and I told him that he “didn’t seem like a douchebag” so I agreed to meet up with him. He was actually really funny and sweet. However I felt like we were looking for different things and didn’t quite have the romantic chemistry that either of us was expecting. So we went our separate ways and saw different people and that was that. It was no big deal or anything, and I’m glad I met him.

I finally decided to get rid of my account when I began seeing the most amazing guy that I met through work. He’s smart as a whip and makes me happy in ways I didn’t even know were possible. He calls me on my bullshit and lets me know when I’m being unfair without making me feel like less of a person. We have inside jokes and he just gets me. I like him and my friends like him. Hell, even my mom likes him, and she hasn’t liked any of my boyfriends. We’ll be celebrating a year together in October.

If you’re just looking for a one-night stand but don’t like the idea of going to bars, online dating is for you. If you’re looking for an ego boost, online dating might be for you (provided you can handle the odd butthurt person). If you’re patient and persistent, online dating can work for you for its intended purpose. I would never go back on to it since your experience is gonna be largely influenced by the area you’re in, and I don’t particularly like where I live. Apparently where I live isn’t the place to look if you’re a picky, smart douchebag like me.

And hey, it’s only a dating website.

Rianna

Meanwhile in the Friend Zone…

Lately on Facebook, I’ve noticed tons of updates about the friend zone,. The always intelligent (and I use the term “intelligent” loosely) Facebook commentary on the topic has ranged from the self-pitying…

 

Curses!

 

…to the funny…

 

Spoiler: you can’t (according to this maze)

 

 

…to the accurate.

 

This is…fair?

 

It’s got me thinking. Why does the “friend zone” have such a stigma attached to it? Why is it soooooo bad to be “stuck” in? 

 

So, if you’re stuck in the friend zone, why is it so bad? In the times that I’ve been put into the friend zone, it’s mostly been because I had a crush on someone and the guy in question liked me, but I was too available and clingy, thus chasing him off in a romantic sense*. But apparently I’ve got some good qualities because the dude would usually wind up sticking around, if only for the fact I’d buy lunch all the time. However being “just friends” with a guy I like(d) usually isn’t enough for me. In all reality I should just back up and let him be for, oh, six months. 

*I am genuinely sorry for my behaviour in high school. Oops.

 

But I never do that.

 

I don’t stop keeping contact and maintaining a friendship with a guy because I figure, hey, I’d rather be friends with him. It’s a lot better than not being in contact with him at all. And then I carry some wildly impractical hope that he’d suddenly see how awesome, sexy, smart, funny, and beautiful I am, and come running to me, proclaiming I’m everything he’s been looking for! Also if fireworks or an orchestra could play during that time would be great.

 

My brain’s a picky bastard.

 

It sounds stupid. It is stupid. I was considering skipping that part altogether, but for the sake of full disclosure, I put it here. You’re welcome.

 

But as I get older and wiser (?), I’m starting to realize that being friends with someone just because of some fantasy version of events that I want to happen is like a poison to my mind and to the friendship.

 

I wind up stressing over what is an imaginary scenario that will never, ever happen. It sits in a corner of my mind like a pair of jeans from high school that I no longer fit into that are under my bed right now. I should get rid of them for my sake, because they just remind me of something I just can’t work with (no matter how hard I try), and to let them go could free up some space and be a benefit to someone else.

 

But, like the jeans under my bed, those fantasies stay in my head. Whether it be because me and the guy had a “really good conversation and we really connected” or something to that effect, there those thoughts sit. Taking up valuable space that could be used to remember all the steps of cellular respiration or how to do taxes.

 

To hold the guy to these expectations also sours the friendship to a degree. I’m so distracted by who I want him to be to me, and what I want from him, I fail to realize that it isn’t fair to hold your friend to such high relationship-y expectations. I only wind up being disappointed, and the guy is not the one to blame. When I focus on how something has failed romantically, I don’t take the time to appreciate the fact that “hey, I’ve got an awesome friend here. Who else can I argue Pokemon with, and who better to get guy advice from?”. 

 

My biggest thing, however, is that when I do wind up getting friend zoned, I try so hard to maintain the friendship, no matter how awesome it is(n’t). I’ve wasted so much time trying to stay friends with dudes that have no interest in being a part of my life, that I didn’t even stop to think that I might be annoying him, or that (occasionally) the guy honestly just sucks. I get so focused on the guy’s good trait(s), that I ignore his not-so-good ones.

 

To me, that’s why being in the friend zone sucks.

 

If I do decide that being in the friend zone is so awful thatI want to escape, I have two options:

 

1) Show interest! Let the guy know that I’m interested, and so on. There are so many websites detailing how to make myself girlfriend material that it makes my head spin a little bit. 

2) Bail. Nobody said that I have to stay friends with the person who isn’t into me. Make peace with it and move on. Especially if just being friends with me is annoying or if it bothers me.

 

So at the end of the day, I should ask myself, “do I value this friendship enough to let go of any and all resentment of the fact that this guy is not my boyfriend, and can I handle the fact that he’ll date other people, as will I?” If the answer is “yes” to both of those, I will continue being in the friend zone, and I’m gonna enjoy it! If not, well…

 

 

There’s a place for you!

 

xoxo

Rianna