#if i’d have matched w him on a dating app i absolutely would have met up with him at a dunkin or smth! i cannot see myself romantically with

[dancedance-resolution]

bisexuality update! today i was getting ice cream and a guy walked in. extremely short, and looked like the type of guy who regularly yells at another guy on the streets of hoboken outside of the local deli about the yankees. and i thought you know what actually i might want to fuck him. !!!!!!!

[pascalpanic]

Begin Again (Marcus Pike x f!Reader)

Inspo: Begin Again by Adam Melchor

Summary: Dating apps never pair you with the right people. Until you come across the profile of a handsome, pancake loving FBI agent named Marcus.

W/C: 4.8k

Warnings: lots of talk of food, language, late night deep conversations, some sadness at the end but nothing intense? reader has a pet cat, is that worth a warning? idk

A/N: HI GUYS this is my first full length Marcus Pike fic! I really hope you like it!! thank you so much to @theteddylupinexperience and @sanchosammy for being my best editors and proofreaders and idea givers!!!

note: PLS listen to the song before/after/while reading! it’s one of my favs and it really goes along with the story

Over the course of your adult years, you’ve become convinced that dating apps are complete and utter bullshit. The algorithms never work right, never pair you or any of your friends with anyone worth seeing in person. Maybe that’s just the problem; maybe it’s not the apps but the people. Whatever the answer is, whatever reason you’ve never found success in the endless swiping, you’re through with it.

That was before last week. The rainy Tuesday night left you in your apartment, alone, to succumb to the cold spring dreariness. Over a cup of hot tea, you’d downloaded the app again. Might as well try, right? You have nothing to lose. If worst comes to worst, catfishing an annoying guy is always a blast. The good news is that this app requires you as the woman to make the first move. That’s kind of a downside- you never know how to start conversations- but at least you can’t get unsolicited dick pics right off the bats. Life is full of tradeoffs, you suppose.

You begin again. The app becomes your favorite pastime. Bored at work or home? Dating app it is. Left. Left. Left. Boring man after boring man. One labeled himself super-straight: absolutely fucking not. One holding a fish: nope. A man who describes himself as a gym rat: not your type. It’s a boring way to spend your lunch break, you’re aware, but the entertainment value is fun if nothing else. There are a lot of strange men out there.

After a few days, your luck seems to turn around as the photo of a man with brown hair and warm brown eyes pops up on your screen. He has a scruffy beard and wavy hair, and the way his smile tugs at the corner of his lips makes your heart flutter. He’s really cute, you have to admit. You read the bio next.

Marcus, 35

❗️ Washington, D.C.

Got forced into making this, but optimistic. Lover of art, dogs, and time to relax. Always down for breakfast for dinner and cuddling. Looking for someone with a sense of independence, love of travel, and a sleep schedule equally fucked up as mine. Must love pancakes.

Must love pancakes. That’s absolutely adorable. You immediately think of your cat, named Pancake, and you laugh and swipe right, hoping the man already thought the same of you. Your eyes widen with excitement and you almost laugh out loud from your giddy state when you see the little logo indicating it’s a match.

The first message you send him has to be perfect. You ponder your options for a minute, frowning and furrowing your brow as you think. You don’t want to come on too strong; you’re not trying to sound like you want a hookup. A simple one-word greeting wouldn’t be enough.

You could comment on something from his bio, you realize as you read it again and again. Maybe ask him about his dog? No, that’s too awkward. You want it to be about him, something that can draw him in. Talk about traveling? No, you don’t want to sound like you’re bragging about the places you’ve gone in your life.

Pancakes. Pancakes are good. You love pancakes. You think for a second more, debating what to say, before inspiration strikes and you send off the message before you can stop yourself.

-

Marcus Pike has essentially felt the same as you. He’s a somewhat charming man. He’s had his fair share of relationships, but they never quite work out. His ex-wife, now long gone and blocked from his phone, was an absolute failure of a relationship. He’d gotten close to what felt like true love with Teresa, another FBI agent, but she flaked at the last second.

Maybe the constant here was that he met them in person. When Marcus falls, he falls hard and fast, down an endless spiral of emotions with no escape. Maybe if he met someone online, it would be different. His best friends had all encouraged it, and on a night out not long after Teresa left him, Pike set up his own profile. He liked that the app didn’t require him to make the first move. It’s refreshing.

Marcus had seen your profile hours ago, on a mindless phone break from his work. He’d swiped right too, stunned by your smile and the lovelines you radiated even through the phone. He crossed his fingers for a good part of the day, hoping you’d swipe right on him too.

His day is busy, leaving him no time to fiddle with his phone and distract himself. He eats in the cafeteria, checking up on his phone. After lunch, he’s walking back to his office when his heart flutters as he sees the dating app indicates he’s had a match. He looks at it and swallows hard before stopping, moving to the side of the hallway to allow others to pass. He’s breathing hard, and his heart speeds up when he sees that you are the one that matched with him.

He knows how this app works. He has to wait now, to let you make the first move. He can’t even write a message until you send one. So he pockets his phone again and continues on his walk.

He’s determined on his walk, rushing back to his desk so he can sit and be thoroughly enthralled in waiting for or receiving your response. His phone buzzes several times with notifications, one of which he prays is you. When he finally sits, he opens the app ceremoniously and has to hold back a genuine laugh when he sees your first message.

Blueberry or chocolate chip?

Marcus shoots back a text nearly immediately. Sorry, what?

Your bio. “Must love pancakes”. Blueberry or chocolate chip?

Marcus is absolutely beaming as he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. Blueberry. Always. I hope that’s the right answer :)

Unfortunately, it’s not, but you’re cute so I’ll let it slide

You called him cute. It makes Marcus’s heart flutter. Come on. There’s nothing like the warm blueberry popping in your mouth.

There is. It’s when the chocolate chips are all melty and creamy.

God, Marcus is already painfully into you. You know what… at least you love pancakes. I’ll let it slide. You got a favorite place?

Anywhere I can get ‘em. You seem like quite the connoisseur, do you have one place in mind?

Jane slams down a stack of files on Marcus’s desk. “Paperwork overflow, Pike. Can you get these done tonight?”

Marcus is the fastest in the office with paperwork, which often leads to him being the one that flies through the files in the place of the people who actually filed it. He nods. What else is there to do? “Sure.”

Jane claps him on the shoulder and wanders off. Marcus watches him in slight annoyance. The best place in D.C. is definitely Sandy’s. Hey I gotta go, text ya later?

I’d love that :)

-

It didn’t take long for your texting to move from the dating app to actual texting. It happened within the same day, in fact.

Marcus messaged you some hours after the initial conversation. Your phone buzzed while you were doing yoga in your apartment, your cat curled into a ball beneath your stomach as you held a downward dog. You nearly collapsed on top of Pancake as you fumbled to sit cross-legged on the end of your yoga mat.

The message from Marcus is bright on the top of your screen. Hi. Sorry that took so long. Work stuff.

Smiling, you take a swig from your water bottle and lean back against your couch. Not a problem. Understandable. What do you do for a living? It’s a loaded question in D.C.; they could range anywhere from politicians to their rich sons to artists and athletes.

I work for the FBI, actually.

Your eyes light up in excitement. That’s the coolest shit I’ve heard. What do you do? Are you an agent?

The man’s responses don’t take long at all. He must be waiting in the chat to respond. The idea makes your heart flutter. Yep, I’m an agent. I work in international art crimes.

You certainly didn’t expect that for an answer. Wow, okay, that’s even cooler than I thought. I was about to call you Agent Pancake but I think my girl would be disheartened...

Snapping a photo of the way Pancake is nuzzling into your side, meowing for snuggles, you have to laugh as you send the photo his way. Funny you love pancakes so much. This little muppet is named Pancake.

Marcus responds with a barrage of heart-eyes emojis, which makes you laugh aloud and scoop Pancake into your lap, stroking her strawberry-blonde fluff. She’s an absolute angel. Like her mother, I’m presuming.

Your cheeks flood with warmth and you can feel the tips of your ears turning hot too. You’ve never even met me, Agent…? You trail off the text, asking for his last name.

Pike.

Agent Marcus Pike. What a nice sounding name. It sounds official and strong and you really like it. Cute last name. Might steal it from ya someday ;)

You don’t normally flirt this shamelessly, but he’s so goddamn cute and funny. You cross your fingers behind your back that this isn’t just a facade, that this is Marcus himself texting like he would to anyone else. You got a phone number?

As you laugh, Pancake paws at your chest to grab your attention, nails nearly digging into the stretchy fabric of your yoga tank top. “Watch it,” you scold her softly and remove her paw from your chest, picking her up and giving her a kiss on the head. Sure do. You want it?

Yes please.

You send your number his way and moments later, your phone pings with a text from an unlabeled number.

Maybe: Pike: hey, it’s Pike :)

You: hey… dammit, I really want to call you Agent Pancakes, but I think my fluffy little heathen would be offended. I don’t know what to save you in my phone as...

Agent Pancakes: Save me as whatever, I suppose. Not my problem, right?

-

The texts became more frequent. Over the course of three weeks, you’d stay up late talking like teenagers, knowing you need to go to bed but unable to bring yourself to do it.

You learned that his middle name was Mauricio, that his mother wanted him to have at least something a little more Latino in his name. You told him the story of how you’d adopted Pancake as a kitten from a shelter and she woke you up one morning with her claws entwined in a snarl of your hair. He told you about his ex-wife and ex-fiancée, Teresa, and you responded that he deserved something better than that. You can already tell that he’s a good man.

At the end of three weeks, you shot Marcus a text. Things seemed to be going pretty well.

You: Hey, you want to do a video call sometime soon?

Agent Pancakes: I’d love that! I’m free tonight if you are.

You: Always free. Shouldn’t you know that?? Doesn’t the FBI spy on us through our phones and whatever?

Agent Pancakes: well, I do work in art crimes. Even if we did, it would be a totally different thing

You: Good.

An hour later, you fidget with your hands as you sit on your couch, the laptop propped up across from you and ringing for a video chat. Marcus’s profile picture bobs on the screen as you wait for him to pick up.

Marcus’s face and apartment fills your screen, and you automatically grin. “Hi,” you giggle and wave, absolutely enraptured by how cute his real smile is, not the forced one in the photos.

���Hey. Nice to kind of-finally meet you,” he tells you and waves back. The wall of his apartment is nothing exciting, but his facial expressions already have you falling. Those big brown eyes compliment natural but ridiculously pink lips, and his brown hair is neatly done. It looks like he’s wearing a tie and a dress shirt; probably his work gear, you suppose.

“You too!” You tell him, unable to stop smiling. “You shaved.”

-

Marcus’s heart jumps out of his chest when he sees you ringing him. He barely has time to flop on the couch and turn it on, propping up the camera across from him.

God, you’re so gorgeous. Your giggle is infectious, making Marcus laugh softly at god knows what. Your grin is equally as contagious, making him smile back. He rubs his jaw in response. “Yeah, yeah. I tend to keep it clean there. Stubble takes too much maintenance, and I have this little patch where it never quite grows,” he tells you as he juts his chin to the camera, touching the spot where his beard can’t grow.

“I like it either way,” you assure him, shrugging a little. “How was your day, Agent Pancakes?” Your voice is the most beautiful thing he’s ever heard, even with the granulated audio over this shitty app. Agent Pancakes makes his heart flutter. “No, not you!” You groan as Pancake climbs onto your lap. “Hi. Your twin wants to say hi.”

Marcus’s smile widens. “Oh my god, hello cutie pie,” he chuckles, launching into baby talk. “What a pretty girl. You make a good Pancake.”

You smile and rub her fur, grinning. “She’s my baby,” you chuckle and set her aside. “Yeah. I’m busy. Leave me alone.” Pancake meows in protest. “Shut up, I’m on a date,” you whine.

Marcus’s ears perk up. “This is a date?”

Your eyes widen as you turn back to him. “I… yeah?” You ask, wincing a little.

He grins back at you. “I like it. And I’m really in love with the idea of seeing your face when you talk.”

“I like your voice,” you flirt back, but you mean it. “It’s so pretty. Do you sing?” You ask mindlessly, studying the way his brow furrows and his eyes convey exactly what he’s thinking.

He chuckles softly. “I used to. I haven’t in a long long time.”

“You’ll have to sing for me sometime.”

When he shakes his head, his neatly gelled hair tries to break free. A strand does, falling in his face. “You don’t wanna hear it, I promise.” He removes his tie, and you can’t help but watch the movement. It’s incredibly sexy.

A mischievous smile makes you bite the inside of your cheek. “No, I really do, I really think I do.”

Marcus rolls his eyes. “Only if you try the pancakes at Sandy’s sometime. I promise you, they’re the best pancakes in the District. I’ve never had the chocolate chip pancakes, but if they’re anywhere near as good as the blueberry, they’re fantastic. And they’re open 24 hours. I go there a lot for late night case work.”

You smile at that, getting cozy on your couch and hugging your blanket. “That does sound nice. I love a good all day breakfast,” you say with raised eyebrows, the teasing in your voice. “Okay, human Pancakes. How was your day?” You ask him again, intent on hearing his answer. Not only is his job fascinating, but he’s adorable when he explains things.

Marcus frowns, and that makes you instinctively frown too. “Well, it’s been good. We’re tracking a huge smuggling ring right now, but since we’ve pinpointed a stock house for them, I might have to travel for a while.”

You frown. You’d been hoping you could have a real date soon, at least. “How long is a while?” You ask him curiously, sipping from your water bottle that sits next to you.

“Couple weeks. No less than a month, probably. I’d… well, I might have to go undercover, which means we couldn’t talk for a while.” His eyes are apologetic, showing that he hates this news as much as you do. “And… I’d leave maybe tomorrow or the day after.”

Your heart sinks. “So soon,” you say with a sad smile, a desperate and lonely chuckle. “Well, if you want to come home to me, I’ll be here.”

Marcus’s smile perks up just slightly. “You would be the best thing in the world to come home to. And I’ll have the scruff back by then.”

“Yes!” You exclaim and laugh, pumping a fist in the air. “I think you’re really cute anyway, but I really love the scruff,” you shrug shyly.

“Maybe I’ll grow it out just for you.”

-

The adrenaline from his first technical-date with you prevents Marcus from sleeping. The call lasted hours, the two of you covering almost everything important in your lives. You talked about your favorite television programs and politics, your parents and your favorite pizza toppings. Talking with him was like nothing you’d ever experience, a connection you’d never thought a dating app could offer.

After several hours, during a lull in the conversation, Marcus suggested the two of you log off. It was around 11 P.M. now, and, even though Marcus has a sleep schedule like a raccoon, he figured you should sleep. He blew you a kiss through the camera, which you pretended to hold to your chest and grin at him.

But now it’s an hour later, just past midnight, and Marcus is antsy. He doesn’t sleep much anyway, but your face is running through his mind like it owns the place, and at this point, maybe you do. Marcus sits up in bed and sighs. He knows the proper remedy for this: Sandy’s. Throwing on a rare pair of jeans and a leather jacket over the white v-neck he wears, he slips on his shoes and makes his way to the tiny, 24-hour diner.

-

The adrenaline is coursing through your veins too. You text any of your friends that will listen, rambling about how beautiful Marcus’s face is and how wonderful it was to finally hear his voice. You pace your apartment, petting Pancake as you pass her perch on the arm of your couch. You try to do a little yoga to calm down but you can’t stop smiling. Marcus occupies too much room in your brain to try to think about anything else.

When it’s just after midnight, hunger strikes. You realize you never ate dinner, too preoccupied with talking to the handsome man to even consider microwaving something from your fridge. Talking with Marcus has instilled you with a love for pancakes, and you think to yourself that maybe Sandy’s would be worth a shot. It’s open late.

So you toss on a jacket and pick up your purse, slinging it over your shoulder and leaving your apartment. You toss the book you’ve been reading into your bag, planning to read it while you sit and eat. Pancake gives a sleepy meow of protest but you just smile and lock the door behind you.

The diner is just as small as Marcus described it to you: just a short line of booths along the windows and a smattering of tables in the middle. There’s a colorful, warm-toned tile floor that juxtaposes the warm green of the walls and the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes wafting through the air. Quiet classic swing music filling the atmosphere. You can see why he likes it: it automatically makes you smile.

You sit in one of the booths, facing away from the door, and the kind waitress takes your order: chocolate chip pancakes and an English breakfast tea. The air conditioning is blasting, making you chilly. You tighten your jacket around yourself and sip the tea when it arrives, adding cream and sugar.

Cracking open the book, you cross your legs and lose yourself in the book. The restaurant has a calming aura, and you can feel the tea warming you from the inside. It’s fitting that Marcus loves this place, you think to yourself.

When the pancakes come not long after, you take a bite and almost groan in happiness. It’s absolutely delicious: Marcus was most definitely right. Disappointingly, you have to go to the bathroom about three bites in.

Even the bathrooms are cute, you discover. When you return, someone else sits a booth away,  another lone diner at this godforsaken hour of night, facing the door. You can see the back of what appears to be a man’s head, neatly trimmed brown hair and a brown leather jacket over their neck and shoulders. Sitting back down, your back to the other customer’s, you return to your book and continue to eat your chocolate chip pancakes.

The customer and waitress are talking, but you don’t pay much attention, too enraptured by your book. It’s quiet again after the man puts in his order, and you enjoy the soft jazz music that makes you tap your foot in time against the tile.

There’s a buzzing and the melodic sound of a phone’s ringtone; one of the defaults that a phone provides. Your heart skips a beat as you hear the man pick up. “Agent Pike.”

That can’t be your Agent Pike, can it? You turn and listen and realize it’s definitely him, from his voice and the way he holds himself and the stack of- of course, blueberry pancakes and a hot coffee set in front of him.

“Yeah. Yeah. Okay. Sounds good. Let me write that down.” Marcus types something into his phone. “See you then. At the office? Good. Alright, see you.” He hangs up.

Standing, you tuck your book back in your purse and put the bag over your shoulder. With one hand, you grab your plate of pancakes, and the other grabs your tea. You set them down across from him and slide into the booth, grinning. “Huh. Agent Pancakes, here, in the middle of the night. How unusual.”

Marcus’s tired face lights up in excitement. “What?” He laughs, his eyes scanning your face. “Why are you here?”

You shrug and take a bite of his pancakes, sighing. “Had to see if they were worth the hype. I couldn’t sleep, you got me so excited.” The blueberry pancakes are absolutely fantastic, just as good if not better than the chocolate chip ones on your plate. “Damn, you were right.”

“Hey,” he laughs and pulls his plate closer to his chest. “Don’t touch my pancakes.”

You make pleading pouty eyes, frowning a little. “Can’t we share?” You tease. It already feels like you’ve known him for years, even though this is your first time seeing him in person.

Marcus sighs. “I suppose,” he says and rolls his eyes in sarcasm, pushing his plate back out so you can access it.

-

Marcus is beyond stunned, absolutely enraptured in how beautiful you are in person. If he thought he fell on that video call earlier, he’s now reached the very bottom of that cliff, the impact of your everything stealing the air from his lungs. God, he wants nothing more than to kiss you right now, on those lips coated in blueberry juice and maple syrup.

The two of you spend quite some time so there, just talking and continuing the conversation where it left off before. The waitress refills Marcus’s coffee twice and your tea once. “So who called you when you were sitting alone?” You ask him as you bring the white porcelain mug to your lips, sipping at the creamy tea.

He sighs. “Guy I work with, his name’s Patrick. He’s a douchebag, I can’t lie,” he says with a chuckle, and his heart flutters at the way you give a soft laugh back. “Just telling me the details. I leave in about 6 hours. I’ll be in Singapore for a couple of weeks.”

“Singapore?” You exclaim, eyes wide as your fork clanks against your plate. “You better be able to contact me.”

He shakes his head. “I told you, I’m going undercover. I can’t.” He sighs, and he dares to reach out and touch you, to reassure you that he’s there and himself that you’re real, that you’re right there. “Will you wait for me?”

Your heart melts, from an already slush-covered river to a rushing rapids. “Of course, Marcus.” It makes his heart skip a beat. You’ve called him lots of nicknames, but never his real name. Something is painfully intimate about it. “I like you a lot; why wouldn’t I?” You ask, shrugging as if it’s the simplest thing. “Distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

When you finish your meals, Marcus picks up both tabs, despite your protesting. “Can I walk you to your place?” He asks as you both stand and adjust your jackets.

You nod and take his hand. The lights of the city are seemingly extra dim tonight, leaving the street lights to illuminate your beautiful face as the two of you stroll along. You have all the time in the world, don’t you? It’s 1:30 in the morning. You’re both already evading sleep desperately. A little more time together can’t hurt.

His hand never leaves yours, his fingers lacing through your knuckles. You chat quietly, as if you could wake the sleeping city from the peaceful blue drone of a weeknight morning into its daily splendor of horns and hordes of speedy pedestrians.

Marcus bumps your shoulder with his, making you stumble a little to the side and laugh as you look up at his gorgeous face. His face reflects the love you’re both feeling, almost giving the city around you a pink glaze of warmth from the rose-colored glasses you must have placed over his eyes.

The walk draws to an end, as you stand at the entrance to your apartment building. Marcus’s body looks so soft and inviting, and you dare to wrap your arms around his neck and hug him to your chest. “I don’t want you to go, Agent Pancakes,” you murmur into the soft skin of his neck, which is starting to get a shadow of stubble.

Marcus kisses the top of your head. He doesn’t move either, prolonging this time you have together before he can’t see you. “I don’t want to go. I’ve never wanted to stay here more than I do now, but I have to.” His arms wrap around your waist, strong and safe.

Lifting your head, you look up at him, your noses practically touching from the proximity you share. The world feels like a bubble around you two, like some impenetrable one-way material that makes it so if Marcus leaves now, he can never come back. “Well, it’s gonna be a long time, a month or two,” you say with a sad smile. “We’ll have to begin again.”

Marcus shakes his head, his brown eyes almost welling with tears. “There’s no one else I’d want to begin again with.” With that, he looks in your eyes, the question hanging there. Wait for me?

Always, you respond silently by pressing your lips to his, kissing him slowly in the orange glow of your apartment building’s entrance. He kisses back, his lips tasting of coffee and maple and blueberry, yours tasting like chocolate and tea.

You squeeze your arms tighter around him, getting on your tiptoes to be as physically close as you can to him. He has one hand on either side of your rib cage, holding you there as he kisses back with all of the passion and love he has.

It can’t last too long or he’ll never leave. He won’t be able to. He breaks away after a few moments, his lips close to yours. He presses your foreheads together, arms encircling you again. “I have to go. I have to be at the office in an hour.”

You lift your head and your brow furrows in confusion. “Then why did you take so long to walk and eat with me?” You laugh quietly.

Marcus shrugs. “Didn’t want to leave you yet,” he admits, his eyes trained on yours. He gives you one last painfully gentle kiss. “I’ll miss you.”

“I’ll miss you more,” you say with a sad smile. “You’ve been my distraction lately. Whenever I’m bored, I text you.”

He sighs, the confession increasing his frown. “I’ll be in an entirely new place, without you.”

“But I’ll be here, in my same old life without you in it.”

The words punch a hole through Marcus’s heart. It’s true; he’ll have new distractions, new things to do. You’ll be here with a Marcus Pike-shaped hole in your heart. He kisses your forehead, the wheels turning in his head. “If you get a call in the next few weeks from an unknown number, be sure to answer it, okay?”

You nod and smile softly. “You need to go. Go.”

He nods and his hand squeezes yours. “I can’t wait to begin again with you.” With that, Marcus Pike, Agent Pancakes, whatever you want to call him, the man you’re highly suspecting might be your soulmate, walks off into the slightly chilly D.C. night.

-

taglist:

@remmysbounty @mishasminion360 @blo0dangel @binarydanvvers  @sleep-tight1 @apascalrascal @randomness501 @spideysimpossiblegirl @notabotiswear @pedro-pastel @sanchosammy @lv7867 @greeneyedblondie44 @hunnambabe @astoryisaloveaffair @emesispo @pedritobalmando @magikfanatic

[jace-the-writer-guy]

A Very Important Discussion

Word Count: 2,115

To say the past few months in Aerial's life had been amazing would be a huge understatement. It was her first year of Atlas and she had met all the members of her new team when they were paired together on the first day after initiation. Snow was still coming around, and Aerial knew he needed more time and she absolutely understood that. Aliah was much more talkative and warm regarding her as a teammate, and a new friend and constantly, softly tries to get Snow to open up more with Aerial and Kuro. Kuro was absolutely fantastic, and already grew to being like a big brother to her and he had quickly grew to fry bacon in the mornings for the team if he could, but mostly for her after a discussion she had with them all a little while after being teamed up.

And then the tournament rolled around, and two certain teams arrived to Atlas from Beacon. Teams ASHE and KRSC. She had very quickly grown attached to them all from when she had met and helped Ebony get over her fear of crowds when they arrived if only for a little while that day. She was almost immediately smitten with the leader of Ebony's team, Wave Aideen. She had even asked him to the dance when he, Ebony, and Sakura had accompanied her to her team's own borrowed recording studio where they continued to bond over their shared love of music, each of them having their own instrument to jam out with. 

Then a dark, albeit short period of time passed with the missions app her newest friends had taken part in. Ebony was stabbed, and Carlisha was eaten by a Sand Leviathan and nearly every single muscle in her body was torn from the strain they were put through to save a man's life from the fate that almost fell on her. Before the missions, Aerial and Wave began to date, even though it would soon have to be long distance between them. And right after that, Carlisha had confessed her love that had grown for Wave, and left them to their relationship and began to continue with the medication for her heat.

But after those missions and after Carlisha had talked with Wave and Aerial, they agreed to a relationship where Wave would date both of them, but they would only date Wave. Or… so Aerial thought. Aerial and Carlisha had grown close and during the dance, Carlisha offered Aerial a dance to where the aspiring pilot had accepted, and Carlisha had relentlessly teased her but also helped her in a huge way. It made Aerial start to realize that she was bisexual, and dear lord Carlisha was making her fall in love with her as well.

And Kuro almost won the tournament that year! A team of freshmen students nearly won the tournament over the other teams! Perhaps if it wasn't for Ebony defeating Kuro in the final match, and if Ebony wasn't in the finals in the first place then he would have won, but still. He and Ebony had the final match. Aerial was just so happy that her team had made it so far, and she was happy that Kuro had ended up losing to one of their new friends and not someone they didn't know.

Then after the tournament, the relationship between her, Wave, and Carlisha had taken a turn and became another form of polyamorous, and everyone was dating everyone in that relationship. Carlisha had grown very fond of Aeriall due to how cute Aerial was with all the teasing, and no matter how flustered it made Aerial, she really liked it. Especially when they both teamed up on her to do the teasing. It never failed to make her smile, and blush of course. Aerial had definitely grown to love both Wave and Carlisha equally, and to know they both loved her was something that just always made her happy.

And now…

"What did you wanna talk with us about, Aerial?"

She had something she needed to tell them before they left for Beacon.

Aerial lightly smacked her cheeks with her palms to focus herself after thinking back to the past few months. "W-wellll… I kinda need to talk to you both about… me. Like everything about me."

Wave and Carlisha sat down and left a space for Aerial between them, and she sat down with them. "What is it?" Wave asked curiously.

"W-well the th-thing is…" Aerial gulped and took a deep breath, "I-I'm t-trans!"

Wave and Carlisha both looked at her in surprise. "You're… trans?" Carlisha asked in a soft voice.

Aerial nodded slowly. "Y-yeah. Male to female. S-still umm… t-taking some hormone medication f-for some stuff, but I have to keep taking that like… once a month f-for what I'm taking because yay A-Atlas medicine. I f-figured I sh-should tell you both before you went back to Beacon in a couple days, s-since I don't wanna hide it f-from you."

"And… does it make you comfortable?" Wave asked her, "Like… Are you comfortable, or getting there?"

Aerial nodded a few times. "O-oh, yeah I'm slowly g-getting there I think. I feel weird still, but… I think I always will no matter what. I'm not sure I'll ever really be fully comfortable in my body, but I'm h-happy to at least be getting closer to the body I've always felt like I should have. I think my boobs should grow more in time with the hormone medication, but… y-yeah."

"And… are your parents okay with it?" Carlisha asked this time in a much lighter tone.

"Oh, y-yeah!" Aerial answered immediately, and she smiled, "When I told them what I thought and knew about myself, they were really supportive of me. It… took them a while to get out of the habit of saying "son" and "boy"," She shook her head a bit, "but they did their best and now they say "daughter" and "girl". Thankfully mom's a pharmacist so she was able to get me the medications I needed and still need after we all did more and more research," Aerial began to grow nervous once more, "U-umm… is my v-voice okay?"

"It sounds very feminine, Aerial," Wave told her, and he gave her a smile, "I never would have guessed you were anything but a girl."

Carlisha nodded. "Right. You sound great."

Aerial breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thank Light. That's always something that worries me is that I don't sound very womanly. I've always had kind of a feminine voice but I still had to train it to get it to where I think is alright. I'm really glad you both think it's good. Also, I guess you both saw me eating pickles a lot, right?"

Both of them nodded and Carlisha spoke up. "Right. I've hardly ever seen people eat pickles as much, just a couple girls back at Beacon."

"Well, th-that's because of medicine I take that lowers and suppresses testosterone, and that really messes with my sodium levels," Aerial explained, "I learned that pickles have a lot of that, so I started eating them and kinda learned to like them. If I don't keep my sodium up, I'd have to go pee a lot. And if I let it get any lower than that, well…"

"It's… not good is it?" Carlisha asked.

"Nnnope… If I let my sodium levels get too low, I can get headaches and nausea, and start throwing up. That stuff's the worst I've gotten but…" Aerial shuddered, "It could lead to seizures and… it could put me in coma."

"Oh… fuck," Wave said lowly, "You're keeping them up then, right?"

Aerial nodded quickly. "Y-yeah, I am. Haven't had any bad nausea or vomiting episodes since the months right after I started my transition. Since I told my team all of this, Kuro's really been cooking bacon every morning he can for me too so that doesn't happen again. Well, he cooks it for everyone but cooks me more, and bacon is great soooo yeah. Aaand there's a reason I'm the one that asks for jerky from April the most." She finished and laughed a bit, getting less and less nervous the more she talks.

"And you've been alright with your sodium levels lately?"

"Oh, yeah! Kuro has been making sure I keep them up since he's like the team dad and like a big brother to me now."

"That's really good to hear," Wave said and he began to hold her hand in hers, "Aerial, thank you for trusting us both with this."

Aerial gulped a bit, and her nervousness returned. "S-so… wh-what do you both think?"

"I think…" Carlisha grinned a bit and lightly took hold of her other hand, "you're still adorable. I see only the cutest, dorkiest girl here."

Wave grinned as well and kissed Aerial on the cheek. "I agree with Carli. I just see two girls sitting with me that I really grew to love. I'll do everything I can to help you feel as much of a girl as you know you are."

Carlisha nodded. "Right. Maybe I'll start pampering you a bit more…" She leaned in close to Aerial's face, "Hmmmm~?"

Aerial blushed at that. "Aaaah C-Carliii!"

Carlisha began to giggle and kissed her on the cheek. "See? Adorable~"

Aerial huffed a bit. "You're mean…"

"But you love it," Wave remarked, and he took his free hand and gave Aerial some headpats, "Is there anything else you want or need to let us know? Neither of us want to make you uncomfortable at all."

Aerial thought for a few moments before her eyes widened a bit. "O-oh, one more thing yeah. I… s-still have a b-boy's… y-y'know…"

Wave and Carlisha nodded in understanding of what she meant. "Are you gonna have them removed?" Carlisha asked.

Aerial shook her head. "N-no, I don't think so… Like I said, I think I'll always feel weird with my body no matter what, plus… I-I kinda l-like them? Does… th-that-"

"No, it doesn't sound weird." Carlisha assured her with a smile.

"And it doesn't change anything," Wave said afterward, "Penis or not, you're a girl and we both love you and accept you."

Aerial's face just lit up at hearing the acceptance from the two and she took her hands from theirs, and she pulled them both in to hug them. "Thank you both so much for listening to me and accepting me…"

Both of them easily returned her hug, both squeezing her comfortably in their arms. "I understand your worries. I mean, you've met Opal," Wave said and shuddered a bit, "I'm nothing like what she is. I don't care what she would ever think anymore. I love you, and I will do my absolute best to never make you feel bad or uncomfortable."

Carlisha nodded her head against the side of Aerial's inability agreement. "Exactly. If I ever tease you in any wrong ways, you tell me to stop and I'll immediately stop. Don't let either one of us slip up without telling us what we did wrong. I don't want to do that over and over and never know if it hurts you or makes you uncomfortable."

"I-I will... Thank you both. I love you."

"I love you too." Both Wave and Carlisha said to her at the same time, and they all sat in their embrace for several moments.

To say Aerial was happy was an immense understatement. The biggest smile grew on her face and tears or relief and happiness formed in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks soon after. She closed her eyes and took in a deep, shaky breath and let it out as evenly as she could. She couldn't wait to tell her team, and she absolutely couldn't wait to tell her parents. She knew she still had to tell each of her new friends as well, and she would one day, but for now she was just so happy to have told her boyfriend and girlfriend and to hear their acceptance and love. It was exactly what she had hoped for. She knew Wave was nothing like the mother he had disowned and broke away from recently, and she knew he would do his best for her. And she knew that Carlisha would do the same.

The only thing that sucked about this was the fact that Wave and Carlisha would be returning to Beacon soon. But around a year later her team would be transferred to Beacon academy, not that she knew at the moment though. For now though, she was just happy to be with them.

[imzenagirl-blog]

Does Tinder Work? A Personal Inquiry

Last week, I was asked the question, “What habit do you have that conflicts with your values?” on a Burning Man app.  It’s tough to clearly see my own faults, so I asked Sam since he’s the sort of friend who knows all about my bullshit and calls me out on it.   “Well, I’d say that you’re someone who places a high value on meaningful connection and relationships.  But you continue to use Tinder even though it’s unlikely to find that on the apps.” Ouch. I quickly became defensive, “Oh c’mon, you can find awesome people on the apps!  Think about the girl you’re super good friends with right now through Tinder.  Or all of the relationships I’ve been in.” “Yeah, sure, you can find meaningful relationships on Tinder, but that’s not the usual, it’s a fluke.  I’d be curious to know how much success you’ve actually found.” 💡 Luckily for me, I am a crazy person who keeps a list of every person I’ve met from Tinder.  Don’t judge me for it!  It’s useful for self-reflection, noticing patterns, remembering good stories, and knowing if anyone I’ve met becomes super famous one day.  I keep tons of lists, I’m a list person.

I’ve used all the apps; Tinder, Bumble, Hinge, Feeld, FetLife, The League, CMB.  At the end of the day, Tinder is by far my favorite because I find the others to be a bit elitist.  Tinder is a classic.

I’ve met a lot of people on Tinder.  88 dates to be exact.  Did your jaw drop? *(actually I’ve met 92 because I’ve met a few couples). That’s a lot of people to be meeting and time spent meeting them.  In some periods of my life I would consider meeting people to be a bizarre hobby of mine.  But how many of those meetups were “successful”?  How can I even quantify that?  Should I measure it by length of time spent together?  How comfortable I felt sharing things about myself with that person?  How frequently we hung out?  Did we hold hands? Did we spend the night?  Did I meet their friends? How can I possibly measure the success of a relationship?  This is not a black or white decision.

Out of the 88, 50 were a one-time thing.  At first glance I thought, oh, then those dates must’ve been unsuccessful.  But looking through my list, that couldn’t possibly be the case.  Only a handful of dates I’ve gone on have been “bad.” (But even then, everyone loves a horrifying first date story!)  A single date was a worthwhile use of my time on plenty of occasions: -Learned about what I do/don’t like in potential partners -Acted out my kink of crying to strangers -Listened to many fascinating stories -Learned about how other people work -Listened to new music that was shared with me -Went on an 8 mile run through Manhattan w/Ryan -Spoke with Eric, a former high-end escort, about his lifestyle for hours -A rich french man named Julien bit a mole off my back -Went to super cool or exclusive bars I could’ve never otherwise afforded -Attended concerts for free or received drugs -Convinced someone who superliked me to go to the Mermaid Parade for 6 hours after only 3 messages back and forth -Went on a date with the sole purpose of seeing how long I could get this guy to walk with me for.  We walked for almost 6 hours -Met my longtime online pen pal Troy after we matched on his bike ride across the country -Threw a party and thought it would be a good idea to invite two guys from Tinder.  It was nerve-racking when they started becoming friends with each other, but in the end it’s a half-decent story to tell -Tried dating the manager at my favorite pizza place because it was my favorite pizza place (Neopapalis by the way).  Things didn’t work out, but it was worth the try.

I’ve gained valuable experiences through people I’ve met via Tinder: Tinder helped me discover myself.  As some of you may know, I spent a period of my life truly believing that I was gay.  I was able to get over my fears and meet women, date them, and have sex with them.  I learned that, hey, pussy ain’t for me.  But I’m so happy that I know for sure instead of having to question my sexual identity any longer.

Tinder empowered me to embrace my sexuality.  The second person I ever met from Tinder was in a polyamorous relationship.  We were never romantic because I felt a bit weird seeing someone with a girlfriend, but we became good friends.  His name was John and he loved kink and he loved drugs.  I learned all about this taboo world I had always been so curious about from him until I felt comfortable enough to venture into it on my own.  I’m not sure if I would’ve otherwise been introduced, or had the courage to find myself, these two forbidden topics.  He was the first person I met who openly talked about his depression.  I would run my hands over the cuts up and down his arms and finally felt like I was a normal person.

I lost my virginity through Tinder.  Yup, you heard it here folks.  After experiencing sexual assault, the idea of having a positive experience with consensual sex seemed out of reach.  I matched with someone I had known for awhile, finally signaling my sexual attraction to him.  Well aware that I was a virgin, he treated me well during our several interactions.  It was a great day and changed the trajectory of my thoughts toward sexuality and men.  He has a girlfriend, but some days I think about writing him a letter to thank him for helping me feel comfortable in my body.  

I met the craziest person I know, Prince.  Otherwise known as The Prince Hot Jordan 11 (because he is the one again).  As a model/recording artist, Prince lived an insane lifestyle.  We hung out in the nicest house I’ve ever seen in the West Village.  We went on a triple tinder date.  A body guard hung around us for a reason I do not know.  He sent me outlandish sexts that I’ve posted on my finsta.  Overall, he’s an absolute madlad that I would love to cross paths with one day again.

I went to Burning Man.  I met a man for lunch at a Thai restaurant and went back to his apartment to see the lightshow he had built for this years event.  After only one conversation, he offered me a ride to Black Rock City.  We met one more time for ice cream to finalize our plans, but a week later I flew to SLC and went on a road trip with him to BM.  We went to Great Basin National Park and did a lot of other neat stuff.  We were from two different worlds, he was 35 and had a totally different perspective on life.  Either way, he patiently listened to me talk for hours about my life and my feelings.  After months of not feeling ok in NYC, I felt content in the middle of nowhere with him.  He was a good person, I hope he finds someone.

I’ve had several positive relationships through Tinder.  We never fell in love, nor was that perhaps ever the intention, but I cared deeply for each one of them.  

Smitty was the first boy I really liked who liked me back.  We matched on Tinder, but had never exchanged messages with each other.  A couple of weeks later, he sat next to me in class and had the courage to ask me out.  He would play music on his record player and teach me all about it.  I smoked weed for the first time with him.  We went to parties, he met my mom over ice cream.  I slept over at his house almost every night over the winter since it was cozier.  I had stronger feelings for other people throughout our time together and I feel bad about that.  I cared for him and he’s now an incredible photographer in California.

Koerner was a special soul.  We met at my apartment when I had first moved in and my only piece of furniture was a mattress on the floor.  That’s where we talked for hours, until my friend Atkinson (who I had invited to come over before making plans with Koerner) showed up.  Koerner wasn’t weirded out by the invitation of my friend to our Tinder date.  He was a great cook and would make us dinner.  We had many intense philosophical conversations, he was a good listener when I cried.  He had great stories about starting a non-profit in Somalia and living on a ranch in the Sierra Nevada mountains.  Later on, I dated Joe and they actually became close friends in an odd twist of fate.  We’re still friends.

I met Arlo on the same day of a serious breakup.  He listened to my feelings.  He was there as a relief, someone to talk to.  We loved to play loud music and dance when we were together.  We would trip on acid and go swimming in the lake.  We went jogging in the park.  He became friends with my friends and we hungout at porch parties all summer.  I had been sleeping with a guy named Spencer in a poly relationship and in bizarre coming together, we all became good friends.  We had a foursome even.  I’m still very close with Spencer’s ex gf, too.  It’s my favorite story of how I met a good friend.  At the end of the summer, he left to go back to school.  We don’t talk anymore, but that’s ok.  

I met a boy on an apartment staircase on my way to an Odesza concert.  I was on a lot of drugs and thought that he had a weird lisp.  Later, we matched on Tinder and I learned that he was from London and not just talking funny.  We hungout at his place and he made a move while we were watching Vine compilations.  I had recently broken up with my boyfriend and wasn’t ready for any more pain, but spending time with him was so easy and simple.  We would go to the gym together in the morning.  I went to fraternity parties for the first time with him.  He became friends with my ex boyfriend, which was weird, but also oddly endearing.  Now he’s in love and he deserves it.  

Finally, the fluke outcome.  Out of 88 people, I fell in love with one.  Joseph from Tinder.  Joe was number 8.  We met at a men’s rowing party and I took him home to have the most awkward sexual encounter of my life.  We didn’t speak all fall semester until I accidentally sat next to him in the front row of Econ 401 during winter term.  In a 400 person class, he was the only one unafraid to raise his hand to answer questions and he was always right.  Nothing happened between us.  Over the summer, I was on a Tinder date with Juan, who offered me LSD.  In my altered state, I decided to text dozens of people to come join us in the park.  Joe came and we eventually ditched Juan and went back to his apartment.  He told me crazy stories and for the first time ever, I became attracted to Joe.  We became friends and started dating months later.  Long story short, we grew up together, he helped make me who I am.  Things didn’t work out, but I will always love Joe, the boy I met on Tinder.

So, what’s the takeaway from all of this?  Does Tinder work?  Truth is, there’s no simple, black and white answer.  You can read my stories and determine for yourself.  From my point of view, I’d meet all 88 people again.  But I never found exactly what I was looking for in a single one - everything good came by accident.  Tinder provided me with short term bursts of happiness and connectivity, but any long term happiness was a rare outcome.  My suggestion, if you want to find people different from you and have no expectations from them, then go ahead and use Tinder.  It’s fun.  If you want to find love or friendship, get out into the world and open your eyes to the people around you.  

[jillmckenzie1]

We All Suck at Dating

A common lead question in the world of online dating is: “What are you looking for?”

Aside from being a grammatical nightmare, this question poses its own set of anxiety-ridden answers. Because how hard in the paint do you really go in response to this question when you’re on the third line of a burgeoning digital transaction? The words that your thumbs manage to string together will inevitably become the foundation for any further communication (or lack thereof).

Sidebar. Dude, didn’t you read my bio? It clearly states, “Looking for a real life human with whom to do rad things. Sucker for good teeth, nice calves, and witty banter. Here for the shirtless gym selfies (you guys, it’s a joke).” Seems pretty self-explanatory to me.

My typical response to the aforementioned question goes something like this: “Surely not looking to get laid off an app. And absolutely not interested in receiving dick pics. Would be great to find a real-life male with whom to do cool shit who also believes in hand-holding, ass-grabbing, Netflix binge-watching, and tag-team Whole Foods shopping.”

Once upon a time, I had a younger guy respond to this answer: “But does our age difference bother you?”

Cough. Cough. He clearly wasn’t aware of my subconscious bias towards younger men.

I replied, “Age is a number. Maturity is a barometer for compatibility. Why? Were you simply trying to send dick pics?”

*unmatch*

I’m sorry, WUT?! Respectable people say goodbye, or they’re not interested, or that they don’t find my humor to be as amusing as I do; they do not just act like [insert desired superlative here] and vanish into thin air (as if I wrote the book on this stuff or something).

Here’s the point. By all means, unmatch me. I don’t give any number of fucks about our premature termination of conversation. The guy I choose is going to choose me in return. He’s going to laugh at the fact that I attempt to turn him on by mentioning that I always return my shopping carts. He’s going to send me memes and screenshots of tiny houses. He’s going to share my affinity towards Mexican food and ask me for my LinkedIn profile instead of my SnapChat handle, and he’ll really mean it when he says that he’s not in search of a booty call.

At the end of the day, I have zero interest in entertaining a guilt-free ghoster. The issue here is the action. Because dammit, it’s hard enough out there. Can’t we all just play by some unstated rules that, at the very least, are governed by the premise of honesty?

I know. It’s asking a lot.

 But that brings me to my next point. About dating. We all suck at it. Yes, all of us. I’m actually quite amazed by how many of us seek to individually claim this title from every rooftop, blog post, and digital message warehouse. At the risk of sounding arrogant, I just don’t think there’s anything unique about it.

We. All. Suck.

A small bit of evidence exists in our mutual affection towards Netflix and chill. I’ve seen enough dating profiles in these last few years to make one overarching and absolutely assertive statement: when given the choice, we’ll all opt for a night spent on the couch in sweatpants eating ice cream with our dog over any nightclub and party scenario. Seriously, I have yet to encounter any male in the digital stratosphere who prefers the latter.

Because, in my humble opinion, no one wants to find his or her significant other in a bar. Absolutely not. For some, sure, the bar provides a perfect backdrop for the infamous one-night stand; I’m quasi-drunk and you’re quasi-cute (could be up for debate in the morning), so in the words of Marvin Gaye, “Let’s get it on.”

But a match–someone who challenges us and makes our lives a whole hell of a lot better (even on the worst days)–yeah, we’re not walking into any bars with the expectation of finding a soulmate.

And, despite our current aversion to commitment that is fueled by our unrelenting fear of missing out alongside our limitless access to infinite information and individuals, we do want a soulmate. Not because we believe in this antiquated ideology that only one person was made for us. No, millennials don’t walk into this world with the Shakespearian belief that compatibility is reserved for a single Romeo and his Juliet.

We more appropriately approach the definition of “soulmates” as two people who show up to participate in a revolutionized companionship. We are a generation that fully understands the power of choice, and we want to exercise this right romantically as much as we want to frequent farmer’s markets in lieu of spending our dollars at chain grocery stores. We believe in making ourselves whole, as individuals, in order to more powerfully stand beside someone who is doing the same. So, we choose ourselves as the catalyst to choose our other.

And yet, even inside of this space of a beautiful and raw and authentic desire to find a forever partner-in-crime, we’re still ghosting and we’re still sending dick pics. I’m sorry, rescind. We’re still sending dick videos. Yes, apparently, I graduated into some upper echelon of male debauchery.

Let me expand. A guy who I sparingly chatted with months ago decided to Snap me one lonely night in February (if you don’t know what “Snapping” is, keep it that way). I opened the video (which is the extent of my SnapChat proficiencies), and bam, hello, hi. My brain immediately hit overdrive as I considered throwing my phone 23 feet across the entirety of my Airstream.

I’m sorry, I haven’t spoken to you since November – neither did any previous conversation incite such ridiculous swapping of privates – and I’m now supposed to be the proud recipient of your amateur x-rated video?! Please, no. PLEASE NO.

Of course, I fired back something saucy (as if I’m going to save the world one indecent digital exposure at a time). And in the spirit of true chivalry (insert massive eyeroll here), he said that it was a mistake: “Wrong Stephanie.”

I actually can’t even (read: bull-fucking-shit).

But my potential diatribe inside an app that was literally designed to delete user history wouldn’t be saving anyone. My only hope at such a stage is the block feature because, at the end of the day, I simply don’t have time for this nonsense. Much like I don’t have time for the old flame (think college) who thought it was cute to slide into my DMs with questions about the kind of underwear I happened to be wearing. Or, the fact that exhibit B continues to patronize me with pet names (even after we established, months ago, that a romantic relationship between us would simply be settling).

Newsflash: y’all aren’t cute. YOU ALL ARE NOT CUTE.

And around we go, hiding behind our phone screens because we want the one (or at least one of the viable ones) to drop into our lives with the same level of excitement experienced by teenagers across America when Usher finally released his third studio album, 8701.

If you ask me, the going around is getting quite old. In fact, my motion sickness is at an all-time high. In the metaphor, I’m projectile vomiting out the back passenger-side window. Don’t ask me who’s driving. I don’t know.

What I do know is that I’m not puking alone.

Fact one. We’re drowning in our individual and collective nausea without any idea of how to stop the damn car. Or, at very least, slow it down. And we sure as hell don’t know where it’s going.

Fact two. Together, we are more powerful than the driver. But I’m not sure if we believe that (yet), and if we do believe it, I’m not sure that we know how to take control of the wheel (yet).

Because I would hate for us to resign ourselves to the fact that this whole dating thing is out of our control. I would hate for our desire of depth to become clouded by our habitual superficiality. I would hate for us to throw away our integrity in the name of conformity.

And I write this to us because I write this to myself. Plot twist, people. I, too, suck at dating. My judgment of those without an inkling of digital wit is embarrassingly high. It is standard issue for me to ghost anyone who resorts to asking me about my day within the first 24 hours of communication.

We just met. It’s fine. My day was fine. Am I supposed to tell you what I ate for lunch? Or about the conversation that I had with my mom? Or the hours I spent browsing Amazon for a new duvet cover?

Seriously, ask me anything else. And, please, I beg you, be funny. And charming (but not too charming). Our future depends on it.

Case in point. In a land far, far away, some guy asked me if I’d ever seen a movie titled La Strada. Clearly, not English. My answer was (and still is) no.

He wrote, “It’s foreign, so you have to be okay with subtitles.”

Well, no shit.

Me: “Great, I learned to read at a young age and quickly surpassed all of my peers, so this is promising.”

*crosses fingers and begs for a witty response*

His reply: “I like that answer. I need someone confident in what sets them apart.”

No dice.

*waves white flag*

I surrender. I absolutely surrender.

And by “surrender,” I mean that I simply fell off the face of the planet, never to associate with this poor guy (who probably had zero interest in sending a dick pic, let alone a dick video) ever again.

I just didn’t have it in me to push through in hopes of unearthing my very own Steve Carrell.

I’ll give you ten minutes. Make ‘em count. Effortlessly get me to laugh out loud, and I’ll strongly consider fraternizing as real-life people.

Hold up. Real. Life. People.

Yes, let’s be very clear, any digital union that transpires in human-to-human interaction is call for a good old-fashioned golf clap. Because it’s an anomaly by anyone’s standards.

So here we are. Together. Meandering through the airwaves and the land mines. Motion sick beyond measure. And I’d like to believe that we’re not helpless here, so my challenge is that we take control of the car. My challenge is that we align our actions and our words. Because there is nothing sexier than honesty. And honesty–honesty will save us. Also, humor. But mostly honesty.

We must be able to articulate for who or what we are looking. It is a common lead question because it is the question. It provides the foundation for action and expectation so, to revisit my initial commentary, we should go as hard in the paint as humanly possible (think Zion Williamson type shenanigans) in our responses. Because this answer allows us to proceed in a space where vulnerability is safe–whether we both swiped right in a sea of digital profiles or, quite literally, ran into each other in the singles line of our favorite chairlift.

You do not have to be in the search for serious. But you do owe the community your truth. The power is in your voice. And please, for the love of all things beautiful, let’s commit to considerate farewells that make “ghosting” so 2018 (as in, bye).

Speaking of bye and the singles line and chairlifts, I had to text my ex-boyfriend the other day to get back my second key fob for the entrance to my RV park

I refuse to pay the $20 for a replacement, okay. Judge me.

It had been nearly a month of not communicating, so you can surmise that it was a conversation that I’d been consciously avoiding. To be honest, I had stubbornly supported the idea that he should contact me first.

Obviously, unsuccessful.

So I spent hours typing and re-typing and then re-re-typing some ridiculous message that started with a Nugget update and ended with, “Oh yea, I need that key fob back.” I then spent hours deciphering and re-deciphering and then re-re-deciphering his response: “No problem. I’ll bring it to work and you can swing by one day and grab it when you’re done riding.” Please note, there is nothing cryptic here.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t a little bit nervous to, once again, look our honesty in the eye. Our ease had existed in our shared interest of doing the work. We had used our voices. And we both believed in the power of a considerate farewell. Also, laughing, there was lots of laughing.

For all intents and purposes, we were great. Apparently, our timing was not.

I’m reminding myself that, at the very least, this relationship taught me that there is hope for our collective whole to be better. It was the catalyst for me to shed an intense layer of distasteful cynicism. And for that, I can willingly embrace the uncomfortable.

It’s just two minutes. It’s just a key fob.

 Dating. It’s still a game of numbers. And we simply need to, in all of our honesty, keep showing up.

Together, we can stop the suck.

from Blog https://ondenver.com/we-all-suck-at-dating/

[seriouslysoulsearching-blog]

Haven’t blogged in almost a week

I’ve been meaning to post but I guess I kept myself relatively busy this week.

I was feeling a lot better this week--for the most part. Monday thru Thursday all was well. 

I went to the gym on Tuesday and did a killer leg workout. I follow a girl on Instagram who is butt goals. I’m not trying to get exactly what she has--just more so aiming to plump up what I’ve already been blessed with. Anyway, I followed one of her warm up tutorials and used some equipment. Boy was I sore after! My muscles were crying, hahaha. I was so sore I didn’t go to the gym again until Friday. I feel like I’m in control with my exercise this time around. There’s no strong desire to burn a certain amount of calories, instead, I’m just going for getting my heart rate up and getting a good sweat from it. And with the weights, I literally just started doing that again so I’m going to gradually introduce that because the soreness is reeeeeal. In fact, I’m actually the lowest I’ve weighed in a while and I’m not comfortable with it. What I’d like to do is keep eating and adding muscle. I think my appetite has been smaller because of anxiety and the ups and downs of my emotions.

Wednesday I took my dad to get an outpatient procedure done. While I was waiting for him, I stopped by my favorite thrift store: Red, White, and Blue. That place was POPPING. When I walked in, there was a long line of people waiting to purchase their belongings. I think there was a senior citizen discount on that day. Anyway, I didn’t bring any cash and just wanted to kill time and browse. I wasn’t expecting to find anything I like (it’s a hit or miss a lot of the time) however, I found the most loveliest sweatshirt (I’m wearing it right now!) It’s a dark green men’s sweatshirt. It says “Yuengling” on it with 4 PUPPIES drinking at a bar. It was love at first sight. But because I didn’t have cash and because I had to pick up my dad, I had to leave the sweatshirt and return for it later. I was worried someone else would find it.

I went back to the thrift store Thursday to get the sweatshirt and ended up having a really successful shopping trip at R,W, and B! I bought NINE sweaters for $40. That is such a bargain. One of them includes the puppy sweatshirt, one of them is this bright blue ugly Christmas sweater (it’s itchy, scratchy, and smells like old women), one is an oversized sweater that’s perfect for lounging around the house (my mom keeps it pretty chilly in here), and the rest are actually decent sweaters that I’ll wear out. It was an unexpected but most exciting thrift store trip. I hadn’t been in a while and I made out like a bandit! 

Friday is when I was beginning to become a bit shaky. I don’t know if that’s the right word, but the break up was definitely bothering me. 

While looking through some of my boxes from when I moved out of Roxborough, I came across a picture of my ex. It was a childhood picture of him he asked me to keep for him so it would stay in good condition. When I came across it, I felt a tight feeling in my chest and felt sad. It was the first time I saw his face in almost a month. I teared up a little bit while I looked at it. I couldn’t throw away this picture so I decided I’ll send it in the mail. I put a little note with it saying how I just found it and returning it to the rightful owner and I signed my name. And that’s it. For some reason, finding this picture has been haunting me. I see it flash in my head. And I imagine him getting this letter from me tomorrow or Tuesday (I suspect) and getting the same sinking feeling in his stomach that I got. In a way, I hope that he appreciates I sent it and sort of hope that’s my way of sending peace about the whole situation. 

And then there was Saturday night. Earlier this week I downloaded Bumble and made a profile. I just wanted to see what’s out there. I’m not sure what the hell I was thinking because the guys on here are seeking a romantic relationship or maybe just a fun time. Neither of which I am ready for--but I had to learn that on Saturday night. It was fun to see who I’d match with, it was nice to see people were interested in actually having conversations with me. Which may be selfish to say but I wasn’t doing it to make myself feel better about myself. 

Anyway, one of the guys I matched with seemed nice, polite, and interesting to meet up. So when he asked me out I agreed. I thought “why not? i’m feeling good. i want to try this whole going out on a date thing” In my adulthood so far, I’ve never been on a formal date where I met for drinks or whatever. So we decided to meet at a bar in Westmont. I got there a few minutes earlier and ordered myself a glass of wine just so I could try to calm my jitters. By the looks of his pictures, I knew this guy was going to be short (no problem, I try to keep an open mind) but when he walked up to me, I didn’t realize he was significantly shorter than me. Like I was looking down at him. He was maybe five foot one. No exaggeration. I knew off the bat I wasn’t attracted to him. ANYWAY--I looked past that and still managed to have a nice conversation. We talked about all sorts of things. We got talking about movies and since I haven’t seen “It” yet we decided to see it before it went out of theatres. That movie was so crazy and disturbing. It was cool. But towards the end of the movie, I was beginning to wonder if he was gonna try to kiss me. How would I deal with it?? Would I let him? Well, he ended walking me to my car and I thanked him and hugged him. I was turning around to my car, and then we started to talk and when I looked at him you could tell he had the “I want to go in and kiss you face” and then, that’s what happened. IT WAS WEIRD. It was so weird for many reasons. I swear to god, I was looking down at him as he came in. He pecked me twice. Ugh it’s so weird to think about kissing someone else. But that is what set me off into sadness. When I got into my car, I sort of started giggling because it felt so strange. I had a thought as I was driving that I wanted to call my ex and be like “this funny thing happened!” (not in a way to rub it in) and when I had that thought, the sadness sunk in. And it sunk in hard. I wanted to have a night like this with him. That’s all I needed him to do. To treat me better and show me I’m a priority. And I couldn’t get that from him and that’s so fucking sad. It’s not really asking for much and my ex just didn’t do it. I started crying shortly after leaving the theater and couldn’t stop the whole the drive home. When I got in, I just wanted to go upstairs and sob. Which is exactly what I did. I felt so fucking lonely in the moment. My heart hurt so fucking much. I missed my ex so damn much. I was thinking of ways to profess my love to him: surprsing him at the lake, waiting in the driveway before he goes to work in the morning, waiting for him at his company’s office. Having those thoughts is so conflicting. I wonder if I’m ever going to get over him. I worry that he was my one true love and I fucked up. Last night in particular I got swept away in emotion and my logical thinking was pushed to the back burner. After crying for a bit, I took a shower, and passed out. I was drained.

Waking up this morning sucked. I felt like I set myself back. I was doing so well. After texting Kira and Kelly about my night, Kira made a good point: dating apps are fun but it might end up making things harder for me. She’ absolutely right--it’s certainly what happened last night.  

I don’t necessarily regret going out last night because I learned that it was waaaaay too soon and I wasn’t ready at all. I realized that I’m not mentally or emotionally ready to date or be in a relationship. I realized that I 100% need to focus on me. I want to explore activities and develop hobbies. I want to hang out with my best friends and family. I want to make new friends. I’m starting my first job in 2 weeks--I want to really focus on getting a good foundation.  Needless to say, I ended up hiding my profile on the app and logged out.

But today was really hard for me. I was a fucking mess. I went to McMillian’s to get myself a donut because I was craving them hardcore. But while I was waiting, I was on the brink of tears the whole time as I thought about how my ex’s best friend bought me a birthday cake from there this past birthday. So once I got to the car, I knew I needed to talk to my dad. My mom tried to talk to me about it, but she’s not necessarily comforting. She just asks questions that aren’t productive and end up making me feel more upset by answering them. When I called my dad, I couldn’t even finish a sentence without crying. He told me he’d meet me at the condo. After hanging up, I cried so hard in my car for a few minutes before driving to his house. 

When I got there, my dad was still at the gym but his girlfriend Candice and her dog Remy where there. Candice has seen me dealing with this break up (when I originally ended things and the second time around) She was expecting me so when I walked in, as soon as she saw me, she stood up and walked over to give me hug. I talked to her about what happened last night and how it’s something I wanted from my ex. She helped me feel better about it. It also helped just to get my thoughts out there because it was way too much for them to be pent up in my head. She made a good point, there are social events I could go to with friends where you can meet new people without the intention of being in a romantic relationship. Which I’ll consider down the line. By the time my dad got home I was feeling more sane and my anxiety was significantly dropped. I really like my dad’s girlfriend. She’s so easy to talk to and relate-able. 

When I was driving to the bakery, my logical/rational thoughts were peaking through my upset. And after I calmed down, I was able to keep some of the points in the forefront of my mind. I felt a little guilty for leaving him with his broken ankle, wondering if he was depressed and that’s why he was being a poor partner. I felt bad that I might have left him when he was already feeling down about his own situation. BUT HERE’S THE THING: He was intentionally being distant when we were trying things again. He decided to spend those weeks resentful towards me. He was the one that said “why should I be bending over backwards for you when you’re the one who said you were beginning to resent me” He was also so self absorbed and could not see how the relationship revolved around him. When I would speak out about things that bother me (specifically not spending enough time together) somehow it got twisted back on me???  I can’t think of all the other points but I thought back to that list Kira and I wrote down.

I let this chilly Sunday be my rest day. I let myself loaf around feeling sad but being careful not to wallow in it. It’s okay to have emotions, I’m only human. I’m still trying to get comfortable with feeling everything. Earlier today I was trying so hard not to feel it and just burst into tears. But once I cried for a good hour and talked it out, I felt relieved. I’m still feeling blue, but I gave myself today to just feel it. I stayed in my comfy pajamas with my amazing new thrift store sweatshirt and watched TV. 

This was quite the week. I can’t believe it’s already the middle of November. The weeks feel so long and dragged out and yet the months are flying by??? It’s crazy. I think it’s been because I’ve been dealing with all this emotional shit it’s felt like a crazy time for me. I know I’m only to be stronger from this all.

Kelly shared this quote with me that really resonated for the both of us: