No, it’s not Sarah today1. It’s Watson, her intrepid cub reporter and SIL, or, as we like to say, “sister from another mister.”
Today’s will be a post to file under the Lifestyle Section.
It starts off with some depressing backstory, but ends up with a funny kick to the rear.
Sarah is nothing if not highly amused* by the entire process.
I imagine a few of her followers are curious about why, exactly, I popped into her life so suddenly last spring. Basically, in a nutshell, I woke up and realized that the relationship I was in was beyond toxic. I am a fixer by personality and extremely loyal, so I kept trying to make everything right, but I was the only one.
And, you know, a relationship takes two.
The last straw came the week I was laid off. He was being his usual selfish, emotionally abusive self, only seeing what my unemployment would do to his fully-supported lifestyle, and for once, I wasn’t taking it well.
And then he said, for about the hundredth time, “I don’t know why I’m still with you. I should just leave!” This was his standard way to get me to rush in and fix the situation. This time, I decided I was going to fix the situation.
I said, “You know what? That’s a great idea. Please leave.”
Gobsmacked face. “But where will I go?”
Epiphany face. “Not my problem.”
It was time to start over and the Universe seemed to be saying it was time to leave the DC metro area. Which is how I ended up here, sitting on the guest bed of my mom’s basement apartment in Sarah’s house, technically living out of Storage Unit 75, licking my wounds and dissolving into puddles of major depression and anxiety attacks.**
Which, if you know me, is not remotely like me.*** My friends nicknamed me Smiley, because I’m literally always smiling. Or, they used to call me that. See the bit about toxic relationship above.
Which brings us to The Kick In The Pants.
I’m a motorcycle girl at heart. Life is just better on two wheels, that’s all there is to it. I have a ton of biker girlfriends and we all tend towards loud statements (might be deafness from the wind noise), though our actions definitely speak louder than words.
Truth be told, biker girl actions tend to SCREAM.
So how was this screaming kick delivered, and why is Sarah weeping with laughter behind my chair as I type?
I was told, very clearly by one of them to “get back out there,” an order that held a surprising amount of weight, considering it came from a woman who also threatened to fly halfway across the country, ring our doorbell, slap me upside the head, and then fly home. She is nothing if not determined. And loaded.
And when I didn’t follow her “advice,” she took the low road and signed me up for online dating.
And supplied the images.
I was honestly surprised she hadn’t already set up my profile for me.
And she also recruited our mutual friends and they got in on the Badgering of Watson, and sent their own advice, dating columns, ebooks, and other links to dating sites. And also a shockingly long discussion of what specific star signs to look for.
There was much pushing for an Aries.
I looked that up, ladies, so I know what you were hinting.
Apparently, my friends think I need to get laid.^
Seriously? Am I that pathetic?^^
You know what—I’m not going to ask a bunch of biker chicks that question, for fear that they will answer truthfully.
So over the weekend there was much giggling by Sarah at the profiles on the site, as well as by me. Honestly, wish you were here, it was ever so much fun.
Our personal favorite was the poor gentleman who selected the screen name “Dungo Love Chocolate.”
Seriously? Seriously? “Dungo Love Chocolate” was the best you could think of? I don’t think I’d take that, even if the only other choice was “BigMember4U.”
I need to find my fellow nerds and gearheads on the site: a “BikerBoy” and “Red2standingBy” and “GeekLove” and “GearHead68.”^^^
Or, you know, just someone nice for a change.~
So you’re welcome to contact Sarah, who might end up my pimp~~ as she goes about her library duties. “Oh well thank you, I’m flattered, you’re cute too, but I’m married. You’re tall, though, would you like to meet my sister in law?”
I imagine my dating woes will be a continuing source of amusement for Sarah’s muse, ~~~so keep an eye out for it.
So here’s to hoping Hottie McHottiepants— the tall geeky Aries with a — emails me back.
And seriously, thanks for the kick in the rear, ladies. I’m your classic Scorpio, so it’s not easy for me to admit this out loud:
You were right.
1Except in the footnotes. Anyone surprised?
*Not true. I am completely sympathetic to your plight. I just choose to express this through snarky comments and uncontrollable laughter.
**And kick-ass movie marathons and spelling tests.
***Except for the movie marathons.
^This one thinks we’d better make sure your mother never sees this post. Or mine, but mostly because she’ll help. You are not to set her up with Paul, Mom. Or Ben. I mean it.
^^No. And I’ll keep telling you until you believe me.
^^^Or “MathnSpanishtutor,” “Swissiedogguy,” or even “401KDude.” Maybe I should go for “TallGuyWantsShortNerd”
~Or under 6’4″, Ms. Picky.
~~Please. I am a yente. And an unpaid one, by the way. Please, I’m the yente’s homeless unpaid babysitter cook. True. Looks good on you.
~~~Ohhhh, yeah. One of the reasons I married your brother was so I would have an excuse not to date anymore. Because it sucks in many wild and wonderful ways and is pure comedy gold to one’s friends.