Dating is not for the weak-hearted

In honor of my recent decision to 'rip the Band-Aid off' and dive right back into the sometimes (often?) hellacious world that is dating in my lovely little mountain city, I thought I'd share some of my all-time favorite dating stories.

Rose and I were single at the same time once a few years ago. We also (although both unaware of it at the time...hindsight, right?) were both prettttty manic. It was our 'Summer of Love', and it was pure crazy mixed with a hearty dose of alcohol. To paint the picture, this Summer included me missing our flight to Portland because at 8 AM the day of the flight I was still so drunk that I couldn't stand and slept through ten to fifteen phone calls and my friend knocking on the door to rouse me. Once I finally made it up I was convinced that I could make it to the airport to catch my flight that left in forty-five minutes. Oh, and yeah...I hadn't yet packed. I ended up realizing half way through my packing job that I wasn't going to make my flight so I passed back out after booking myself on an afternoon flight. When I woke up, much more sober and refreshed, I opened my suitcase to find I had only packed fifteen pairs of panties, a camera, and every single piece of make-up I owned. Later that Summer Rose and I were outside of our favorite bar. I was drunk and crying and my purse had spilled out all over the sidewalk. A homeless man hit me up for some cash and I LOST it. That night ended with me yelling obscenities at the man as he ran away from me, telling Rose and I to "GO MASTURBATE YOURSELVES OR SOMETHING!". This was the Summer I introduced 'road vod', the handle of vodka that I kept in the trunk of my car, for emergencies? Like I said, pure crazy.

Between the non-stop partying and holding down full-time jobs as well as tutoring on the side, Rose and I were also serial daters. It never ended. Date after date after date. I should also note that this single status was newfound for both of us and came after our first very long-term relationships. We were like two innocent baby does thrown into the wild with no means of survival. No one warned us that well, to be frank, dating sucks. It sucks hard.

• I once was walked to the door (against my wishes, which I had verbalized) by a young man who literally walked into a pole and then pretended like he hadn't. He then gave me his business card.
• Rose was once followed home by a guy she had met in a bar. I was passed out in her living room, wrapped in a blanket. As she saw him walk by her window she dropped to the floor, spy-style. He came to the door and after I opened it in my blanket and confirmed with Rose that she did NOT want him coming in, I informed him that he was crazy and slammed the door in his face.
• Rose and I once had a crush on the same guy. Everything came to a head one night at a party he was throwing, when Mini-J had to referee a tear-filled argument between Rose and I over both of us liking this guy and both yelling about why we liked him so much: "But he's so smart and loves math!".
• I once had a guy tell me: "I really like you, and I want you to meet my cat, I think she's ready to meet you too!".

The saddest part? I actually dated cat guy for a few months.

Here's to another (much less drunk and dramatic) Summer O' Love!

please tell me the bed isn't a metaphor for my life

Rose has always had these weird premonitions of me falling down. And by always, I mean she's had them twice. Once, back in college, after all of us had been drinking college punch and burning incense, we came the the conclusion that we NEEDED pie. Right then and there. As we walked to the grocery store Rose kept saying things along the line of "Be careful Hales! I feel like you're going to fall, or something!" (to be fair, though, she also was really worried about us 'catching a chill' in that cold July air and insisted we huddled under the street lamp for warmth. So, maybe her worries were a little unfounded?).  Later in the grocery store I drunkenly jumped onto my boyfriend's back, laughing hysterically and tickling him, causing him to drop me. Rose then proclaimed, with all the smug certainty in the world: "I knew it! I just knew you were going to fall!".

Rose had her second Hales falling! premonition a few weeks ago after I insisted on setting my already really unstable bed frame, box spring, and mattress up on risers. Really, this wasn't a premonition so much as pure common sense, but I wanted a tall bed, damnit! When you live in the teensiest of apartments under the bed is prime time storage space you guys!

Last night as I crawled into said tall bed after several Easter mimosas, it totally collapsed. Completely. It was sort of a fitting end to a week which had involved crazy mean Ex rantings and a trip to the ER for stitches. When my little brother came over later to help me salvage it, he found me sitting in the corner of the teensiest bedroom with all of my other furniture pushed into the teensiest kitchen where my mattress and box spring were precariously perched {sidenote: brothers are the absolute best. Especially mine.}.

Upon getting the text letting her know that she was right and my bed had finally collapsed, Rose responded:

"Well, were you at least having sex when it happened?!"

I guess it's the most legitimate question that could really be asked after such an occurrence.

pure love

When you're poor and you live in what you continually try to convince people is the smallest apartment in your city (I swear you guys, it is. I mean have you ever been here? Really.) payday is the best kinda day.

That day is today and since I've lived with only my sweet little ol' self for over a month and have yet to go grocery shopping (except the occasional trip to the Mexican market for Rambo, but that's a story for another day) I decided to take my newly earned straight cash monies over to the new Sunflower Market.

Dudes, that place is BOMB.

If anyone wants to come over for some delishyness involving the redic amount of organic quinoa and fresh veggies I just bought I'm fairly certain I have enough to stave off starvation of a third world country for a few days. Since I live in the smallest apartment in this city though, you'll be eating quinoa in my bed. Also, a lady who worked there told me how amazing my hair, outfit, and homemade headband were and wished me a "Happy Earthday!" with a free sample of organic laundry detergent, which I'll never use (I like my laundry to smell like vanilla and lavender and if that hurts the environment then so be it, shoot me) but STILL.

You should all go there.

keep your chin up, baby!

As long as I can remember, my mom, aunt, and grandma have fawned over my chin (weird...I know) because I was blessed with the Dye dimple. Apparently I have the exact same chin as my maternal grandfather, whom I never met as he died when my mom was ten. I like to think that he'd find me to be  pretty great, had he ever met me. Because, well, I am sort of great. Each time someone gives me advice on my current life situation and tells me how proud they are that I was true to myself, I am also usually given  advice in the vein of "Keep that chin up, baby!". I often find myself wondering if people look at my chin when they say that and notice my little dimple and also what advice my grandfather would have to offer me.

In an effort to, ahem, "Keep my chin up", or what have you, I have recently been..rendezvousing with someone from my past. Most single girls I know have that someone. The someone that is great to pass a few hours with, the someone that makes you laugh and offers you various pleasurable distractions when dating is the last thing on your mind and anything with more emotional involvement than a few hours of stupid TV and time between the sheets is much more than you're willing to commit to. This is a someone that you tend to not talk to for long periods of time, the periods of time in your life when you're half of a couple. Then something happens and there you are staring your single self right in the eyes again, and well. You do what you have to do. This someone usually tends to be single at the same time as you. Single karma, I guess.

Last night, after a few hours of blissfully mindless and emotionless fun with that someone,  my heart apparently decided to stop pumping the right amount of blood to my brain? This led to an immediate black-out after standing up, and I shortly thereafter came to, realizing why yes, I did just blackout, fall, and slice my chin open to the bone on some guys nightstand. And yes, I am wearing only my sexy underwear (and no, I certainly was NOT drunk. No really. I wasn't). After a phone call to my friend who is a nurse ("How many glasses of wine did you have?" and "No I'm not gluing it closed! It's on your FACE, go to the ER!") and closer examination of what I must say was actually a very clean slice right down to the bone, I decided that $200 co-pay or not, I do love my pointy little dimple chin dearly and a scar-free face is worth much more than a couple hundred bucks, right? I mean after all, I do have insurance and I surely do not want to march back into the dating world with a scar on my lovely face!

As I was sitting in the ER with my beloved Mini-J, having that little dimple chin stitched right back up, laughing (and yes, I admit it, crying just a tiny bit) I turned to her and asked "Please tell me that blacking out in my panties, falling, and slicing my chin open to the bone in the apartment of the guy I'm currently screwing is the lowest point in my life right now. It's going to get better after this, right? I mean, RIGHT?". Smiling, she reassured me in only a way She, Rose, and my mom can do and I immediately felt better. We laughed about all of our misadventures in dating and decided that when we compile a book of stories regarding such topics that it should definitely have the word post-apocalyptic in the title. My nice ER doctor (side note: his name was Dr. Weed. This incident happened on April 20th. 4/20...beloved to potheads everywhere. I kid you not.) interjected to ask me why I thought I passed out, "Do you think you drank too much?". I told him no and explained that I thought it was probably a combination of a bunch of different things that had happened throughout the night and the fact that I had been having a weird heart palpitation. Then, of course, he asks me what those things may be? I literally said: (before my nearly non-existent filter had time to boot up and actually work) "Wellll, I was on this like date, or whatever. And I drank a glass of wine in the hot tub, theeeeen there was about twenty minutes of strenuous aerobic activity..." I looked over at Mini-J snickering in the corner and mouthed "Did I REALLY JUST SAY THAT TO THE ER DOCTOR?" To his credit, he just continued quietly stitching up my dimple chin and listened to Mini-J and I talk about my dating life, or lack thereof. As he stitched and listened and my chin inadvertently drooped down as I conversed, do you know what that nice man said to me?

"Keep your chin up!"

Oh, buddy. If you only knew...

this guy

Here's a story about my favorite cinnamon love, Rambo.

The day I brought this sweet chunk o' love home from the pound (he was livin on the mean city streets can you even comprehend?) he walked right on in the front door of our townhome, wagged his little bum and began to run through every room, sniffing everything along the way until he was satisfied, at which point he sat down with a sigh and looked at me as if to say "This is great. I love it here!". There was no 'adjustment period'...he fell in love with us instantly and completely as doggies tend to do.

The first night with us he tested the waters and sniffed and whined around the bed. Well let me tell you sir, we put a stop to that right quick.We were certainly not dog-in-the-bed people. Fast forward a few months to a painfully unhappy situation which found me crying and heartsick in the guest room. That dog...I swear that dog saw his opportunity and boy did he snag it. Up onto the guest bed he hopped, licked my tears off my face and promptly plopped down and passed out in a small corner of the bed.

It's been an uphill battle since then. I'm losing. I thought I gained some ground a few weeks ago in the new apartment when he spent two (forced) nights on his amazingly wonderful (seriously it has like...four blankets) dog bed. Nope. Because do you know where that doggie of ours now squishes his sleepy self when he stays at my apartment? Right next to me. Stretched out as happy as could be with his very own half of a queen bed.

You know...where someone else would be sleeping, if I weren't single as ever.

I maintain he knew exactly what he was doing since day one.

in defense of the little things

Sometimes.

When you live alone in the smallest apartment ever and you continually find yourself tripping over homeless shoes and searching for your jewelry and question straightening your hair because your bathroom is so small and the lighting makes you slightly hate your face you may wonder what happened to my life and how did I end up here?

Those times. Oh, those times. It gets hard to 'keep your chin up' and you may just want to cry because you are lonely and alone and there is no one to say how pretty you are and your bed just feels painfully empty like it is quite possibly the biggest, coldest bed in the world.

Those are the times that I feel like maybe I just shifted into reverse and kept speeding backwards and I maybe made a big mistake? Did I add years to my five year plan for all the wrong reasons? And I sort of just feel like asking the world, "World, would it be perfectly acceptable to you if I just crawled into bed and slept and dreamt and then woke up and felt amazingly better and sort of not like crying at completely random inopportune times? Those are the times when my big dreams feel slightly not-so-possible. When I don't have his eyes to mirror back my hopes and dreams to me they sort of seem silly and like they will always be imagined and never be real. And let me tell you...when I start to feel like that it is a mean, ugly feeling and I do not like it one bit no I do NOT.

There are the little things though. A snugly squish of an eighty pound dog that loves to lick my chin when I can't quite keep it up because (I swear it) he knows when I am so, so sad. There are hammock naps in the sunshine and shopping dates with my favorite loves. There are runs through my new neighborhood which if I make my eyes all squinty-like sorta reminds me of Portland...and Portland has a big piece of my heart. There are three endless months of sunshine coming my way oh-so-soon and even though I know it's bad for me I love my bronzed skin after a long, warm day. There are sundresses and strappy sandals and spinach salads to look forward to.

Maybe right now...the now where I wonder if I made a big mistake or a choice for myself that will ultimately be what I needed more than anything, maybe this now is telling me to take a deep breath, enjoy the little things as they come, and just smile.