Relapse

I almost had an OKCupid relapse.

I hate online dating. I would rather spend every Sunday for the next five years gagged sitting through Scientology lectures than go on another online date. I'm sure there are nice guys on dating websites. I mean, the law of large numbers seems to indicate so, right?

I'm also sure that I can be on one of those sites for about two and a half minutes before someone sends me a picture of their package. And call me fussy, but I don't want to have to wade through all of those junk pictures prior to going on a date that maybe-at-best doesn't make me fantasize about jumping in front of the lightrail. 

That said, I still almost had an OKCupid relapse.

***

I'm trying hard not to roll my eyes.

It's the Saturday before Christmas. I had a little too much good cheer the night before and am slightly hungover, I need to get on the road to get back to Wisconsin in front of an impending snowstorm (hand to god, every year I have to head home early because of an impending snowstorm), and I am on a first date that I didn't actually want to go on and now Just. Won't. End.

The guy is, I suppose, nice enough. He's talking. He's talking a lot. I recognize that some people, when nervous, don't just clam up. But, Jesus. I don't know if it's the hangover or the fact that I knew coming on this date that I was probably going to be indifferent, but I am bored out of my skull and looking for a way to end this, swiftly and politely.

If I can get a goddamn word in edgewise.

Honestly, I have very little reason for being as bitchy as I feel. The guy is a little boring and way too talkative, but he's polite. He has a good job, he likes Doctor Who, he's actually taken me to do something rather than "Hey wanna meet for drinks?" (Ugh. Blorch.)

The compulsion to bitchily roll my eyes comes around the end of hour one, when he starts talking about True Love.

Yes. True Love. With capitals.

And, let's be clear, he's talking about True Love and The One and Destiny. It's when he brings up Destiny (also capitalized, I can just hear it) that I decide to hang politeness. He's about to ask me about my astrological sign. I can see the question, sitting there on his face. It's going to happen and I need to cut this thing off NOW.

***

Everything is coming up Kelly these days.

Work has been amazing. It's been actual "Holy shit, I can't believe someone pays me to do this" incredible. I'm writing regularly and writing things that I like. The minor health concerns I've had over the past years have resolved. My social life is busy with enough things to keep me intellectually stimulated and physically challenged without feeling like I'm over-committed. I found a couple volunteer opportunities that I find fulfilling and a chance to get out and do something meaningful. 

Sunday morning I cried myself to sleep. 

I had been up for 28 hours straight with a work project. It was a funny, goofy "rebuild an entire website in 24 hours" thing, and I loved the website I ended up with and enjoyed the process tremendously. When I had friends volunteer to get up early on Saturday and Sunday to ensure that I wouldn't have to drive after having been up, I realized (again) the depth of the friendships I have here. I knew that when I showed the results to my boss and coworkers they would be thrilled beyond the ability to express it. 

Anyway, I got home, showered, made myself a cuppa, turned on my heating pad, got into bed and oy vey, without any kind of flashing warning sign I started crying. And how. The last time I cried this hard I was reading Eleanor & Park and listening to The Smiths. 

There were, admittedly, a lot of reasons for the tears. Sheer exhaustion and an ohmygodI'vespentthepasttwentyeighthoursstraightwithotherpeople introvert meltdown. Those were the real reason for sobbing, but what caused it, what sparked off the crying was the simple fact that I didn't want to sleep alone. I wanted needed someone else there with me, to help me laugh off the obvious, silly meltdown I was having, to put his PJs back on and curl up next to me and watch Fringe and just be there until I fell asleep. 

This was, hands down, one of the grossest meltdowns I've ever had. It was a stupid, childish fit to throw (especially considering how damn well everything else in my life is going right now), but once I started I couldn't stop. And then, of course, I started to think about how my life feels like the first twenty minutes of a romantic comedy and if I could be a bigger cliche than the single-woman-about-to-turn-thirty-who-has-her-whole-life-together-except-she-can't-find-her-one-true-love and how pathetic it was to be be crying over all of this. Which, of course, only made me cry harder.

Thankfully, when you've been awake for 28 hours, it doesn't take a long time to cry yourself to sleep.

When I woke up I spent a long time looking at the OKCupid website. 

In the end, I exited out of the site without reopening my profile.

I wish I could say it was because when I woke up I realized that I really am okay on my own, and that it's important to just keeping up with the things that I'm doing. You know, continue being unequivocally awesome and I'll eventually meet someone who is similarly awesome. That's the story I wish I could tell. But in the end I spent a lot of time thinking about the dates that I've been on and how terrible the were. How I'd rather spend the time that I have doing ohmyjesus anything else. 

And I really can't handle the thought of one more gross picture in my inbox.