Summer of Me

I decided to take my two month vacation and turn it into The Summer of Me. I didn't have travel plans, my sister was fifty-five miles away, and my friends had their own families to take care of. So instead of sulking over my loneliness, I would venture on my own. I had always envied people who dined by themselves so I would just go to P. F. Chang's like I'd been wanting rather than waiting for someone to go with me. I could also visit The Living Desert since no one would be crazy enough to join me in the 100+ degree weather. The idea of waking with the birds, making the long drive as I watched the sun rise, and touring the zoo at my pace seemed peaceful. Since I have friends out there, I could check in with them afterward and see if they'd be available for lunch. If not, I'd just grab a bite by myself. With time on my side, I'd have the schedule to toy with a dating website and take advantage of my friend's Meetup group so I could network and possibly not have to eat alone the entire time I was off.

Summer of me. 

The constant pressure of being single drove me to join Match.com. This missing aspect of my life had been sitting heavily in my heart, head, and shoulders for quite some time. Some of it was due to societal pressure, another part came from my own self torture. That is why I had become bitter and anxious. I wasn't even worried about my biological clock anymore. I had gotten past the idea of wanting or having kids and concentrated solely on the companion aspect of a relationship. I wanted someone to come home to, cook, and travel with. Because of this, I was upset my vacation was going to go to waste since I didn't have a boyfriend to explore the world with. So I went against every cell in my body and joined the online trend (Read my explanation here: Where Art Thou?). I was hesitant about whether or not it would work for me because I was going in forcefully with a negative attitude. But I built my profile anyway. The winks, thumbs-up, and messages poured in instantly. The notifications invaded my email, forcing me to scan my matches and read endless profiles that eventually blended together. It seemed like every one of them had kids, were family oriented, and well traveled. They liked to dine out, be outdoors, but also stay home. And they all wanted the same thing--someone goal oriented, adventurous, confident, with a go-with-the-flow kind of attitude. One of those was a firefighter. He was ten years my senior, had three children, the eldest in college, and lived in San Diego. I knew I didn't want to meet him but replied to his messages anyway. Until one of his questions stopped me in my tracks.

"What is important to you?"

Summer of me.

The firefighter had rambled so easily about his kids, career, side job, and family as being important to him. But I couldn't think of a single answer. Not one significant thing popped into my head. It was the first time I felt inadequate as a partner, even to a hypothetical one. For so long, I had deemed myself driven, successful, and independent but wasn't so sure I believed that anymore. My family and job were obviously important but I didn't want to give the run-of-the-mill kind of answer. I loved my car but was disgusted at how materialistic and immature that would sound to a heroic family man. Firefighter message aside, I dug deep, determined to find a unique response that was real and true to me. After a moment, I conjured up a list that included writing, taking care of my body, and learning to cook healthier. Embarrassed and apologetic for what I took to be a juvenile response, I clicked Send. Dissatisfied with my ability to answer, his question, "What is important to you," played in my head like a CD programmed to repeat.

Summer of me. 

I met with a man from Match for a hike, another for dinner, and a third professed his love to me. None of them made my anxiety go away. I worried because I was shedding pounds as fast as I did when I ended my eleven-year relationship. I was moping around my apartment playing, "What is important to you," for the second day in a row when I walked past my bathroom. I caught sight of a book, The Opposite of Loneliness, that sat on top of the toilet tank and I thought, I need to start reading again. And following immediately after, I need to start writing. Suddenly, a sense of urgency came over me that made me question my recent hobbies. Facebook? Match.com? Really? What the hell was I doing wasting my life away on those useless, self-deprecating, narcissistic, egocentric websites? I needed to read articles about writing and find a publisher for the short story I'd written a few months ago so I could put my MFA to work and finally become an author.

Summer of me. 

It was quickly unveiled how consumed I had become for the desire, need, and want of a husband. I had practically internalized this search where ever I went: on the road, at the store, in the supermarket, at restaurants, at the clubs, on the street, in my apartment complex, during hikes. My goodness! I had turned into an obsessed, miserable freak. I envied couples, young and old, for having a special someone, even if just a temporary one. And I often wondered why I wasn't worthy of the happiness my friends seemed to have by having found their significant others. After all, I'd been a good girl who followed the rules my entire life. The only place left unscathed by my deranged ways had been online. That's why I joined Match. I wasn't excited at the idea of meeting people via a website. It was just my last resort. But it felt like another job and I didn't want to work during my time off. Rather than looking forward to AllThatAndMore69's messages, I cringed at notifications and replies from my so-called matches. I dismissed my repulsed reactions as not having found "The Right One" yet and thought I'd change my tune when I finally made a connection with a more "Special Someone." But it wasn't the lack of a guy in my life that had me miserable and anxious. The book in my bathroom had made it crystal freaking clear. I simply wasn't happy with myself. I had lost all focus of my personal goals and dreams, like that of writing and publishing a book. I had let go of what was important to me only to be able to check off the next item on a to-do list I had created in my late teens. I had accomplished receiving a BA and MFA. Marriage was next. I had long followed this plan that it didn't occurr to me to adapt, change, or edit it after my break-up .

Summer of me. 

I was ready to rewrite that list. I was done with the stupid husband tunnel vision. Instead, I was going to start reading because it helped my craft. I was going to start writing and looking into publishers I could send my short story to. That meant rejection letters were in my future but I didn't care because I'd be following my dream. I was going to learn to cook healthy chicken recipes so I could have ample delicious options to choose from by the time I went back to work. I was going to continue hitting the gym with a focus on ridding of my belly fat so my six-pack could come through. And I would look into learning to use the 4x4 gears in my Jeep so I could take my baby off-roading like she was meant to. That was my new list. It was short but those were the things that were important to me at the moment. I knew now that I could always go back and add, change, or delete items to meet my heart's desire.

Summer of me. 

I logged on to Match.com and changed the settings. I did not want any more notifications sent to my email. I checked my Yahoo account frequently for deals, friendly messages, and housing listings and did not want notices from so-called matches to get in the way of my productive days. Once the month I had paid for was over, I'd cancel my membership. Until then, I'd check the site sparingly.

Summer of me. 

I don't think it was a coincidence that two of my former high school friends contacted me on the day of my revelation. They're both married now so there wasn't that creepy notion that they were looking to hook up. One of them invited me on a hike since he knew that was one of my favorite pastimes. The other suggested we go off-roading. And thus my happiness began. I had barely changed my attitude and without effort, some of the important things were already coming to me. Diego would help me maintain my body and health and Gabe would give me my first off-roading lesson. It made me happy to know that my old friends still thought about me despite their busy lives. It was even better that they knew me so well to suggest interests that I loved. I was elated to see them again after YEARS. To think that I had been so worried at the beginning of my vacation about not having anybody to hang out with. Now here I was, attracting friends and meaningful activities because I had changed my attitude, because I had refocused my life back to ME.

Summer of me.

I provided the following advice to a friend many times before: You'll never be able to make someone happy unless you are happy yourself. It's obvious now that I wasn't practicing what I was preaching. But that's because I thought I was content. After all, I had my degrees, a career, a savings account, and my dream car. What else did I have yet to accomplish? Finding a man to make my boyfriend to become my husband, of course. Mr. Right would solve my problems by contributing to my housing budget and being the companion I wanted for travel. But I was mistaken. Because these were all the wrong reasons why anyone should want a husband. Because I was just looking for a tool, not a partner, to help me check off items on a list, a list that had long expired, a list whose contents I hadn't realized were not longer important to me.

Summer of me.

"What is important to you?" That was the simple question that led me to refocus on the important things to me. I will find happiness, not by measure of accomplishment, but by the continuous pursue of dreams I will continue to have throughout my life. And if a man with similar ambitions and work ethic comes along the way, then maybe he can be a candidate to be the one to steal my heart. He'll have to aid and motivate me always just as I know now I will too.

Summer of me. 

With a renewed perspective, I sat on my under-utilized couch and did something that didn't come easily to me: I relaxed. I watched a talent show with my portable devices out of reach and even laughed out loud a couple of times with the audience. Then I went to bed and watched a movie. I fell asleep happy, eager to get to work on the important things in my life.

Where Art Thou?

I just bought a Living Social deal for Match.com. The one-month membership cost $15 and then I received another $2 off at check-out. I acted against my own disposition and paid for a service that will supposedly find me love.

I have been considering online dating for about a month now. I don't want to--my stomach knots up just thinking about it, making me want to throw up--but I feel like I must. The two-year mark since my break-up is approaching and I only have one official date under my belt. Actually, it occurred no where near my belt, it took place at Claim Jumper, but you know what I mean.

This pressure, the need to start dating and eliminating men one by one until I meet The One, has stemmed from established societal pressures... and PMS. For example, my two-month summer vacation has arrived and I have no concrete plans. It's the saddest thing. Last year, my sister and I went to Costa Rica for fourteen days. But she just graduated from grad school and that Peruvian trip we vaguely discussed stayed in the back burner. Although we've brought up short getaways to Seattle or Mexico, nothing has been set in stone. 99% of my friends are married with kids so a random crazy Vegas trip is also out of the question. If I had a boyfriend, though, I wouldn't be whining or complaining (the number one character trait I detest the most in people) because I would have booked a trip to Puerto Rico months ago. My mother would have already given me an earful about how my out-of-wedlock rendezvous made me a whore, thus putting a damper on my plans because she's in my head. Despite acknowledging my role as the worst daughter in the world, I would have been very excited to go shopping for my travels right about now before leaving in a couple of weeks.

I didn't always feel this way, the need for a companion. The night I broke up with my ex, I headed to a friend's birthday party alone. It was the perfect distraction before I grieved the following day. But that didn't last long. Three days following my break up, a heaviness I'd been carrying for about ten years lifted off of me in bed before falling asleep. For the first time in over a decade, I felt free. I was free. I no longer had to wonder where my ex was or wait for his lie-filled phone calls. I went to sleep soundly knowing his actions were no longer going to affect me or be my problem and that felt really good. The following weekend, I invited my friend to a concert and went hiking with another. And the plans just continued, with friends, my sister, or family. I was distracted and for the first time since college, I stayed up until three in the morning or took a salsa class in the middle of the week. I stopped being so strict and told myself that it was okay to replace a gym class with an outing to a farmer's market or art walk instead; it wasn't like I was going to attain a six pack that particular day anyway. The same restriction was lifted from my no-junk-food-during-the-week rule when I started having pizza or chicken wings on a Tuesday or Wednesday night. My life varied day to day and that excited me. I had never allowed myself to be so spontaneous before because, since I couldn't control my ex-boyfriend, I governed my life with a set in stone day-to-day schedule. My newfound freedom came with a new perspective in life. That was, Live in the Now.

Saw this poster at Target and found it appropriate for my apartment. 

Living in the now worked wonderfully until my work calendar changed. I had three vacation months scattered throughout the year which allowed me to relax and have fun year-round. But now two of those months have been put back-to-back in typical school year fashion. Although I'd been looking forward to my June and July vacation, I also started reverting to my old ways of constantly worrying about my future. While I eagerly awaited the summer, I also started panicking over what I was going to do with such a long period of solitude.

I love my isolation--my quiet dinners with Gilmore Girls playing in the background--but I'm ready to bring a permanent Plus One to the table. As the last days of school inched closer, I couldn't help but think and focus on the traveling opportunities that were going to continue to escape me because I didn't have a Lewis to my Clark. As a teacher, I've had many chances to see the world but never fully took advantage of my free time until last summer. I know I could explore on my own but I am too chicken. I need someone, whether it be a friend, my sister, or boyfriend, to push me into the river so I can swim to the ocean. And since my set-ups have gotten me no where closer to tackling that traveling bucket list, I decided (against my wishes) to take control of my mopey-dopey situation by giving online dating a shot.

Several of my friends met their husbands and boyfriends online. They encouraged me since the beginning of my singlehood to give dating websites a try. But I'm a dreamer, a unicorn, a Piscean to be exact. I believe I will meet Prince Charming hiking, pumping gas, choosing avocados at the supermarket, dancing, or driving Rubi as he pulls up next to me in his own Jeep on the freeway and signals with his head to follow him off the next Exit ramp. I don't want anything to do with the decision process of choosing a mate. I shouldn't have to work or even pay for this kind of service as if it were a college education. It should come standard with the Life package, this thing called love. That's what Fate and and Destiny are for, fulfilling this aspect of my existence for me, but I've been losing hope on those two lately. 

A couple of my friends have tried setting me up with three different guys. I have no problem being arranged with their contacts since Destiny sometimes needs a little help from Cupid. I would have considered it Fate had any of the attempts by my girlfriends worked out. That's networking, after all. But Potential #1, a 30-something year old cop with dreams of becoming rich by investing in properties, never asked me out. He texted me for a month and a half, using emoticons and ordinary phrases like, Rise and shine, beautiful, but never formally asked me out so I cut him loose. Potential #2 couldn't look me (or anyone, for that matter) in the eye or tell me the name of his drink when I met him. He was socially awkward and even though he eventually asked me out via text, I never heard from him with a set date and time. I actually met Potential #3; he was obviously more desperate than I. We sat and had drinks and appetizers at Claim Jumper, talked for a couple of hours, and then discussed our exes as he walked me to my car where he proceeded to tear up over having wasted his ex girlfriend's "child bearing years." I was going to give him a second chance although I knew he wasn't the man for me but he let me off the hook. 

This is why I feel a desperate need to give Destiny a hand. Yet, the idea of using standardized responses typed into a website to match me to my future husband repulses me. I think I will only delay the finding if I have a say in the choosing process. How so? Because I'm going to end up ignoring or blocking 90% of my matches based on their pictures and answers alone. Out of the handful that will seem to meet my criteria, only 0.5% will respond to my bravely delivered messages, thus decreasing my probabilities to one. Then he'll turn out to be gay or have a very clingy ex-wife and full custody of his three children or something.

The rational side of me does eventually always step in to stop such negative thoughts to remind me that I am a teacher who works out at Curves. It is then that I miserably recall how my day-to-day male-meeting opportunities are slim to none. And rather than whining about not having anyone to travel, lunch, dine, catch a movie, wine taste, get a couple's massage, or watch the sun set with, I have chosen to be proactive. My last resort, I feel, is the dreaded online dating thing. Neither my face nor charm has attracted anyone worthy so I'm going to find out if this thing called the Internet can really fool the opposite sex into believing I'm more than who I am in person. Or see what the naked eye has not. 

Now that I bought that voucher for Match.com, I have to think about creating my profile.

(PAUSE: I just searched my computer for "attractive" pictures of myself to attach to this post. I wanted  to give you a preview so I could get a reaction before I posted them onto my dating profile but was unsuccessful. You see, I'm the picture taker which means I have little-to-no pictures of myself, especially since I'm not one of those selfie-addict millennials. I have failed at online dating before even starting. There goes $13.)

I don't even know where to start. I guess I should go to the website and answer the questions one by one. But I need to know what I want in order to answer accurately. For example, my age range. How old, or young, do I want my partner to be? Should I follow the current trend and search for someone ten years my junior a la Eva Mendes, JLo, and Shakira? Or should I go with the presumed maturity ages of 35 to 40? And what do I want in a guy? Well, let's see, I want him to be smart, funny, hard working, goal-driven, and adventurous. As for future plans? I would like to own a family home although my definition of "family" is a little loose. Kids are not a must but will be welcomed if that's what a hypothetical "we" agree on and desire after we travel a lot. In regards to height, tall would be nice since I'm 5'7'' without heels. That's all I have so far. Personal responses, though, will be a challenge. Not necessarily for me to write but to spark an interest in a man.

I'm at that stage in my life where my philosophy is, "What you see is what you get," "Take me as I am," and "I'm not going to change to please anyone." Which is why I predict my forthright, introverted responses won't attract many. If they do, I will probably be able to classify the guys into one of two categories: Vermin or Desperate. The Rico Suaves are going to use sweet words to make me fall for their supposed desire to make me their wife when all they want is a "classy" one-night stand. And the outcasts like moi will message me out of desperateness because the very pretty girls they wrote to in the first place never replied to their requests.

I recently watched a TED Talk titled "Hacking Online Dating." The speaker, Amy Webb, was a woman who shared my misfortune with love. Except she was really smart and figured how to be the most dateable person on whatever website she was on. This included using positive language like happy, fun, and lovable to describe herself. Her research and analysis allowed her to be in control of who she wanted to date since she had all the attractive fish in the sea at her feet waiting to be caught. Which she did. And now she's married and had his baby as was expected to happen per the online dating objective. But I'm not into computers or gathering data. And she didn't provide any hints, a cheat sheet, or her business information for creating desirable accounts of our own so I too could go fishing in a pool of Channing Tatums. So although interesting, this talk was pretty useless.

The biggest problem I have with online dating is eliminating options based on photographs. I've seen my sister friend do it time and again, reject guys based on the superficial, and it's one aspect of this dating approach that I find morally wrong. I know I'm guilty of this before even starting but that doesn't change the fact that I think it's repulsive. We reject people without knowing them. We don't know how they laugh, if they are funny, if they're tall or short, heavy or average weight (we all lie). These are the types of qualities we can witness in person at a club or a bar-- their gestures, the way they speak, who they speak to, what they have to say, etc.-- thus having reason to want to continue (or not) with the getting-to-know-you texts/emails/phone calls. But blocking a person just because he or she doesn't meet our beauty standards? It seems cruel. There's more to us than just a face. When I first saw my best friend in third grade, I thought she was ugly but I liked her spunky personality. Eventually, I overlooked her appearance and had an awesome time with her the rest of the year. This happens with the people we meet day-to-day. We don't choose our friends based on looks. Which is why I think everyone should be a qualifier online (I say that now). And the main reason why He's supposed to magically show up in my life, not necessarily at my door but at least in my city, my work, or my local Food 4 Less. I am not supposed to pick him. I've already done my share: I went to school, got a career, saved money, bought my car, then went to school again. Why should I have to find my own man too???

I don't want to do this. It's against nature to ask, Are you the one? How about you? I don't want to spend time with people I don't know, eat food for the sake of a free meal (okay, that would be nice), and gain weight in the process. I am ready, though, to snuggle on the couch with my own life sized teddy bear and have a dancing partner again. And if nothing happens at the end of my month subscription (because I am too cheap to continue paying $43), I'll hopefully gain lots of humorous writing material. Wish me luck. 

To be continued...