Crushing It

I have recently undergone a fairly radical mindset shift about dating. It started with a friend sharing this great article. I strongly recommend reading the whole article, but it can be summed up with what the author dubs The Law of "Fuck Yes or No":

The Law of “Fuck Yes or No” states that when you want to get involved with someone new, in whatever capacity, they must inspire you to say “Fuck Yes” in order for you to proceed with them.

The Law of “Fuck Yes or No” also states that when you want to get involved with someone new, in whatever capacity, THEY must respond with a “Fuck Yes” in order for you to proceed with them.

The article led me to a revelation that I do a pretty good job of applying "Fuck Yes or No" to most aspects of my life, but not so much with dating. I've been taking it far too seriously for my intended end goal. I needed to consider what I really do and don't want, what makes me say "Fuck Yes!" and what makes me say "Fuck No!" I am relearning to have fun with no expectations of anything beyond the moment. Guess what? It works. Before I continue, I would like to, as always, offer apologies to my mother for the remainder of this post. Love you, Mom! 

Here's the deal: I've spent the past year and a half not looking for a relationship, but essentially vetting potential suitors as though I were. If I'm not looking to have a boyfriend hanging around and don't plan to introduce the dude to my friends and family, it's just inefficient to invest a bunch of time trying to learn if we're compatible. Right? Frankly, I really won't care how many siblings you have or what your middle name is until I know that there's a reason for me to remember those things. Short of meeting your family (which means that I have agreed to be in a relationship), I can almost guarantee that I'll forget anyway. If I'm probably not going to see you more than a couple times, is it worth wasting my energy with useless trivia? Fuck no! Sure, a gal has to protect herself and try to learn something about a guy, but girlfriends, text messages, Google, and GPS offer a nice level of security for stepping out of your comfort zone.

So where does this revelation leave me? Frankly, closer to the one night stand than I care to admit. Only I just did. Publicly. On the internet. You know what? Fuck it. Am I having fun? Fuck Yes! The universe agrees with me, as it chose to wake me with this today:

Too early to get anything on, but a nice thought to start the day.

Totally not trying to brag here, but MathMercy has been crushing this single lady thing recently. The short list:

1. A guy tells me that he's had a crush on me for years and offers to get a hotel room real quick. I am super flattered but refuse because he has a lovely family life and I don't think he really wants to jeopardize that. Later that night, I start to regret my decision (What do I have to lose? Nothing!) and think I should call him, but my cell phone battery is dead. Thank goodness. At least I won't have that on my soul if there is ever a day of reckoning. 
2. In a one-time departure from our normal friendly routine, a former crush of mine told me that I "kiss like a porn star." Best compliment ever! If only there were some sot of dating resume' - you can bet I would include that comment under "References."
3. Can't believe it took this long, but I received my first ever "DTF?" message the other day. I really wish I could say that I instantly shut it down. Alas, the flesh is weak, so I entertained the thought. I thought to myself, "I don't know. Maybe I am DTF." That actually happened in my own brain! The horror! So instead of shaming the guy or ignoring the message, I commend him on his frankness and tell him I would probably need to meet over a drink or something first so I could at least pretend that it was spontaneous. He has not responded yet. Perhaps it was the first time he's actually received a reply to that message and he just doesn't know what to do with it.
4. Apparently, I am DTF. This guy and I had been talking about meeting somewhere for a first date in a couple days, but then he dared me to just come over to his condo that night instead. I thought about it for a few minutes, said "Fuck Yes" to myself, sent the plan and address to my girlfriend (who promptly started internet stalking the location), and went on my way. During my short time in the dude's gorgeous condo, I officially became a cougar. I think. What's the age difference criteria on that, anyway?

Witch Update
I believe I have discovered the almost completely useless purpose for my apparent witch powers. You know how MathMercy's witchy self channeled Heidi Klum to sing her "Happy Birthday" last week? Well, I don't think it was for me. The next morning, I was texting with a friend who is not on Facebook and wasn't able to make it to Rob's memorial. It got me thinking about another old friend who is not on Facebook and I really don't want to lose touch with, so I sent a "thinking of you" message to him. A minute later, this friend called me to chat and thank me for calling him on his birthday. I probably spent about five minutes accusing him of being a liar before I became (mostly) satisfied that he was not just fucking with me. Later that day, I asked a mutual friend to confirm if it was really the first friend's birthday. The response was something along the lines of a hearty thanks for reminding her that it was indeed first friend's birthday.

So there you have it. Apparently, I am a witch with the particular skill of sensing birthdays that are not posted on Facebook. Hopefully, there will be a day soon when all of my Luddite friends join the Facebook crowd so everyone will know their birthday and there is no longer a need for my powers. Until then, MathMercy, Agnostic Mathematician will be polishing her crystal ball.

Rings and Things

Sorry I haven't written for so long. I have been really busy with work and just haven't had anything that exciting to write about on the dating front. This is going to be a bit of a potpourri catch-up post.

First and foremost, my Seattle Seahawks won the Super Bowl! Three weeks after the win, the Seahawks balloon that I bought the night before Super Bowl XLVIII is still bobbing in my living room as the greatest cat toy ever. My Sundays feel empty now...27 1/2 weeks until kickoff, but who's counting?

Just like the Seahawks got their rings, I got mine, and I feel like I worked just as hard for it as they did. I wanted to do something with my engagement ring to make it more relevant, so I took it and an amethyst my grandmother gave me a few years ago to the jeweler who made the ring. I envisioned making a big-ass blingy ring with the amethyst and all the diamonds from my ring, but the jeweler talked me out of it. Perhaps I didn't properly communicate to him that I am totally at peace with my inner Jewish American Princess. In any case, he convinced me that an amethyst of that size would just get scratched as a ring, so I should turn it into a pendant instead. Three hours later, I had designed a pendant using the amethyst and the center diamond from my ring, selected a new stone for the ring, and had charged an amount greater than my rent to my debit card. I won't confess what I paid for the jewelry, but I will say that it was by far more money than I have ever spent on myself. For something so frivolous too! It actually felt gloriously symbolic of my independence to be able to pay for my very own baubles for no other reason than I wanted them. Happily, when I picked up the ring and pendant, I also received appraisals stating the combined value was nearly four times what I'd paid, so I think I did a pretty good job for myself. Plus, they are so sparkly! I love sparkly.

Football, jewelry, what's next? Oh yeah. Dating. Not much happening with the online dating because I'm just not that motivated anymore. I'm kind of over the get-to-know-you and decide if we should meet in person messages. After about five, you start to realize that you're having the same conversation with five different people. There may be plenty of fish in the sea, but not many of them stand out. I had a funny conversation the other day with another Plenty of Fish-er about the similarities in POF dudes. It turns out that there are also some generational differences. A bit younger than me, my friend E's preferred age range is 25-40, while mine is 35-45. Upon comparing notes, here's what we determined: Men in their late 20s and early 30s claim to be artists and musicians, but the dream dies in their mid-to-late 30s, at which point they become personal trainers. As men move from E's accepted age range into mine, they apparently take up hiking and MMA fighting. Seriously. You have no idea how many guys claim to be MMA fighters and/or personal trainers on POF, and they ALL hike. In my age range, there are also a lot of truck drivers. I'm not sure what's up with that, but there have been enough that it bears mentioning. I'm not a snob, but I'm not looking for a truck driver. Nor am I looking for a delusional "MMA fighter" or "personal trainer". 

Honestly, I'm not really looking for anybody, which makes online dating seem like a waste of time. I don't want a relationship, and I obviously don't want a one night stand. I still have enough dates to keep me from being a total spinster, and I have plenty of free time to myself and no weird pressure. Sure, there are times when it would be nice to have someone next to me, but I don't want it all the time. In truth, I think I just like receiving attention. There's nothing wrong with that, right? The other night I gave my number to a 26 year old hottie solely because he flattered me by saying he wouldn't have guessed I'm older than 28. 26 is really young. Then again, if I'm not looking for anything in particular, should age matter? We've been texting since Friday and just exchanged POF user names. Honestly, if he weren't so young, he would be a hot prospect. He has a masters degree, is an architect/contractor, grew up in Montana, and he can spell and punctuate. Am I ready to own being a cougar? Stay tuned, gentle reader. Stay tuned.