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A free lesson in Women’s Studies 101.

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Is This It?

I’ve read plenty of “inspirational” quotes telling me things like, “If it’s not okay it’s not the end” and “There’s no such thing as a true ending” and “Everything must come to an end sometime.” A lot of these sayings contradict each other but that doesn’t stop girlie girls from putting the words on pretty a background and posting them to their Instagrams.

Here’s my problem: I hate endings. I don’t know how to handle them. I very rarely even say goodbye to anyone. I always end the dinner or the drinks or the party by saying something like, “See you next week.” I never simply say, “Goodbye.”

I can’t handle the permanence of The End.

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1 to america

Very, considering my first internet quasi-relationship ended last night.

Mind The (Age) Gap

While chatting with a friend back on the East Coast today, we got onto the topic of age. The old adage “age is nothing but a number” may ring true in some situations, but in dating? Age is actually a lot more than a number. At least in my experience.

I am 23 years old. I have been 23 years old since December. And I already feel so much older than 21 and 22-year-olds. So much so, that I told Ok Cupid and Tinder not to pair me with anyone younger than 23. Here’s why:

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rescued puppiesBRB, getting hitched to my new internet Romeo. But only if Ha will be my bridesmaid.

 

Screen shot 2014-01-20 at 12.03.55 PM

Neither, but thank you for asking.

Boosted

Last night something weird happened.

I was doing my usual profile check, hoping for to find either ridiculously romantic or ridiculously hilarious messages in my Ok Cupid inbox. When I got to the site, a little window popped up asking if I wanted a “Free 15-Minute Boost.”

A…what?

Of course I clicked “yes” because I’ll take anything if it’s free.

Suddenly a ticker appeared on the side of my screen with a 15-minute countdown. It was telling me how many suitable (or unsuitable) men were viewing a link to my profile. It looked a lil something like this:

Screen shot 2014-01-14 at 9.10.55 PM

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Missed Calls

I have a serious problem. So far, it hasn’t been treatable and I have yet to find someone who hasn’t had a similar issue at some point in his or her life as a cell phone owner.

The problem is talking on the phone.

My problem has gotten so bad that my recent call records often look something like this:

missed calls

Mom and Dad are a safe bet. I’ll answer their calls because I know what to expect. But unknown numbers? No. Friends? Oftentimes no, mainly because I’m worried they’re calling 1) to give me terrible news or 2) to give me amazing news about something that has happened to them that will make me feel shitty about my own single, jobless life.

It sounds dumb. It is dumb. But I can’t seem to get past my fear of why someone may be calling me. Texts are often meaningless. Casual checking in or making plans are what texts are for. But calls have become serious. Unless it’s my parents or my grandma – who refuses to learn to text but has finally grasped the idea of sending emails (hallelujah) – on the other end of the call, I know that the caller has something important to say. And usually I just don’t want to hear it. So I ignore it. Because I’m the worst.

What does this have to do with online dating, you ask? A lot. Moving from sending messages online to mobile interaction has become a real-life problem. Since the start of my little dating project, every dude who has gotten my digits has been a valiant texter. No callers here. Until one guy – the one I actually want to hear from – started calling. He’s not a texter at all. And it is terrifying. Every time he calls, I worry that he’s calling to say he doesn’t want to see me again. Because I am insane. But nope. He just doesn’t text. And it’s kinda nice. But also kinda scary,  because of my insanity and all.

I’m starting to get over my refusal to answer the phone, though. I’ve been practicing. Proof is below.

IMG_6119

So what if I’ve only talked to my parents, brother, and aunt in the last week. It’s something. And I am proud of my ability to talk to more people voice-to-voice. Chivalry isn’t dead! We should talk on the phone more often. Call me to force me to practice. Really. I need all the help I can get. It may be what breaks my weirdo phone phobia. I promise I’ll try to answer when you call, rather than throw my phone on the floor and cower in fear, as if it’s about to detonate.

Maybe.

Hey…

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