Happy Valentine’s Day!

Here’s my version of a Valentine’s Day post. Enjoy!

Being chronically single, there are definitely times where I really yearn to be with someone and then there are times where I’m thankful for being alone. I’m sure the same can be said for people who are in relationships as well.

For me, both of these extremes become very apparent when I’m sick. I spent the better part of this week sick at home, so it became very clear in my mind just how much (and how quickly) I can flip flop on this particular subject.

For example, when I was at home laying on the couch wishing for death, the only thing that could make it more bearable was some juice, or soup, or something. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to have someone come and take care of me.

I was too sick to fend for myself. This actually happens more than I care to admit. There have been so many instances that I’ve developed a coping mechanism. I don’t like to drink juice full strength; I like to water it down. It’s easier on the stomach, if that’s not doing so great.

So I set up shop on the couch; I grab my tetrapak of juice out of the fridge, a glass and fill up a 1L container of water. I bring all the things to the couch and fill up my glass as I need. I do need to get up from time to time to refill my water, but much less than if I actually had to fill my cup up every time. In fact, if I invested in a larger measuring cup, I could reduce those trips down even further. Food for thought.

I’m still pretty much fucked if I need to get something to eat, but let’s just say, I got reserves.

On the other hand, when I’m disgustingly sick and things are coming out of places that no one needs to see, I’m fairly happy that I live alone.

But those instances are usually few and far between, besides realistically, the person I’m with better be okay with holding my hair back and cleaning up some puke when I miss the toilet. Or the bathroom altogether.

But nothing makes it hit home quite like it did the other night. I was very sick; in a lot of pain, had a pretty bad fever and a terrible cough. Plus I was covered in hives (an unrelated, yet agonizing, matter).

Even though I drugged myself up to “get a good nights’ sleep”, I still woke up constantly with scratching or coughing. Or alternating between kicking the blankets off and then scrambling to get them back on because I was shivering. And if that wasn’t enough, rolling over caused enough pain from my massive body aches (and probably hives) that I actually groaned audibly.

My first thought was that I hoped my upstairs people couldn’t hear me and/or weren’t being woken up by my agony. My next thought went to what it would actually be like if I was in a relationship; what if I was sharing my bed with someone. Times like these, I know one thing is certain.

Meh – small price to pay to have someone bring me soup, right?

Adventures in online dating: Part - Oh… I get it…

I found this in my drafts – I wrote it several months back, but since I’m chronically single, it still applies.

Hooray for being timeless.

I think I’ve finally figured out a reason, if not the reason, why I’m still single. Meh – who am I kidding there’s clearly a laundry list of reasons…

You know the dating technique where you trick someone into liking you by being not yourself and then dole out your true self in single-bite-size-servings so that, given enough time, you eventually become yourself, but it was done so gradually that the person you’re with didn’t realize just how weird/crazy/needy/sarcastic/(insert undesirable trait here) you really are until it was too late and they already like you and have already come to accept your character flaws?

Turns out that may be a problem, if not the problem, with … … well... me. I think that honesty is the best policy.

Allow me to explain my most recent epic fail. *Update – since this is not so recent anymore, I’m sure there’s more to come… Who am I kidding, I have some in reserves.

Although, my POF account is hidden and I’m not showing up in the general populations’ searches, I do log on, view profiles and email people. Not super frequently, but often enough.

I did this recently and started chatting with an attractive young man, who coincidentally enough, shares the same, uncommon (in the western world at least), name as Thailand. We’ll call him Thailand 2.0, or Thai2 for short.

I decided not to hold this against him, even though, more often than not, I cringe when I meet a prospect with the same name as my ex. Or my brother. Or my father. Sorry – but I got a thing with names!

So we start doing the whole email exchange thing. Back and forth for an hour or so every night. This lasted a few nights when one day Thai2 asked me what I was doing. I said I was at home, relaxing, doing some writing.

Something no one ever does is ask what exactly I’m writing. He does. I explain that I was writing some “short stories”; he asked what kind.

Something no one ever does is ask for my blog address. He does.

I wanted to discourage him, but I didn’t know what to say. My first thought was “No – I only share this with really good friends, or complete strangers and you’re too in between” which seemed like a ridiculous thing to say out loud. I settled with  “I don’t know about that…..” He sent me his website in exchange, so I sent him mine with a “don’t judge me!” disclaimer. He said he wouldn’t.

His website is themed around wine and is very professional and appropriate. And…  yeah… you’ve seen mine. A little while later, he asked who does my “artwork”.

A little while after that, he pointed out a specific post he liked. A post that was quite old. A post that happens to be in my “top posts based on nothing list”. I looked at the random list and hoped he wasn’t working his way down.

Let’s just say that list of posts has some… …  unsavory links. Links that my readers and friends enjoy, but maybe don’t portray me in the best light. That maybe aren’t super becoming of me. Or worse yet, are exactly as becoming of me.

He must have found them because he stopped replying to my emails. I should’ve known he was judging me. Better sooner rather than later, though, right?

Right??

Wet pants are the worst

As you may or may not remember, I’ve had a tendency in the past to accidentally spill drinks. And by accidentally spill drinks, I mean, accidentally dump entire pints of beer into the laps of unsuspecting friends. Check out the old post – it’s a gem!

Well… it happened again. Let me paint you a picture.

The night started off innocently enough – regular Friday night routine of going out for dinner (a.k.a soup) with some friends. A drink or two was had. Another friend had wanted to meet up for drinks; when one of my friends at dinner got wind of it she said she would also be interested in going out.

So we met up at the local pub and had a few more drinks. This pub is notorious for shutting down early (some would call it an old folk bar and they would be right), so we moseyed on down the road to the next pub to get a couple more before the last-last call. Which is part of the routine for “one of those” Friday nights.

In general, I’ve been known to attract weirdos and my friend happens to be quite the looker. Those talents combined, we always have an interesting night when we head out; this night was no exception. We weren’t sitting at the bar for very long before some dude came over from the other side to chat us up.

You could say I was feeling a little jealous of the attention, or lack thereof. You could say that maybe, just maybe, I wanted in on the conversation. You could also say I wasn’t paying enough attention to my surroundings.

It’s no surprise that things got out of hand and drinks were spilt.

I totally had this coming.