Gone Fishing

Last Friday night I'm over at my sister's house and I'm talking to her about possibly joining Match.com, since my friend thought it would be a good thing to do. My sister also thinks it's a fabulous idea so I sit down at her computer in the kitchen and start looking at the guys, cuz after all 'It's Ok to Look'. I asked my oldest nephews if they wanted to help me shop for a new uncle. They both gave me confused looks but walked over to the computer and started to point to a few guys they both thought would be good for me. Andrew picked a guy that I would say is not my taste and I had to ask him if he REALLY thought he was cute. Andrew admitted that he didn't and that he would be more serious about his selection next time (in so many words). My 2 year old nephew wanted to get involved in the project so he pushed a stool up so he could see the screen and started pointing at every single guy on the screen, one at a time, ending on pointing to himself - 'Pick Me'.

So, I see that there are some decent guys on the site, the boys agree, and we decide to make a profile, just as my Mom and Dad walk in. I write my description and answer the questions and the family all helps me pick my main picture, my dad's choice winning out, and my profile is now complete.

Picture this - Me, sitting at the computer with 3 little boys sitting around me, all shopping for an uncle on Match.com. Hey, at this point, I might as well make my dating life a family event. How is my Friday night experience not a perfect commercial for Match?

So yes, now my friend and I are both on Match.com, hoping to 'Start a Love Story'. I figured with everything that has happened throughout the last 2 1/2 years of my life, this is just the next step, the next chapter. And, I might as well try it, because trying new things is right up my alley lately. As we're sitting in the bar discussing who has winked at us, who has shown 'Interest' and who has emailed, I decided it was a little embarrassing to admit we are on Match.com (even though I'm admitting it to all of you readers right now), and we should definitely come up with a nick name for it since making nick names is what we do. Fish Market = Match.com. It's a perfect name for it. You have the Bottom Feeder, which are the guys who just want some action and are winking at every female on the site, especially the ones way out of their league. You have the Trout, which are the guys who are OK, but we're definitely not looking for OK at this point. Then, you have the Salmon, which is the man you want, the man you hope winks at you, and maybe even sends you an actual email. Besides all these reasons, I saw the word 'Fish' on the window of the bar we were at and it sounded like a good idea at the time.

So, how is the Fish Market going, you're probably wondering? It's A LOT of work. I get so many winks, Interests, emails a day that it's flooding my Inbox. It's hard to weed through all of the Bottom Feeders to find a Salmon or two. Who knew so many single men were trying out online dating.

I've also learned a lot about myself while using the Fish Market. For example, I'm very into looks. Before I dig any further into someone's profile, I have to look at all of their pictures, and if I don't find them very attractive, then I delete them from my page. But, if I find them attractive and ONLY when I find them attractive, I read their profile. Even if it's not very good, I still might give a wink back. After all, 'It All Starts With a Look' and if I don't like the look, then why should I go any further?

I was told last night that I have to be more bold with my account, which includes *deep breath* actually meeting people in person. I guess IMing and emailing aren't the best ways to start (or have) a meaningful relationship. So, I may take that step, we'll see, and once again, stay tuned.

Dedicated to my Salmon. I'll catch you some day.

Catching Fish

Too many fishies in the fish market + Too much wine = No time for blogging tonight. Stay tuned and I promise I'll explain later.

7 Minutes in Heaven

Remember junior high Boy/Girl parties? Ahhhh!!! *Sigh* Ahhhhhhwkward. Ok, now fast forward about 15 years. Imagine going to that same Boy/Girl party, but now you're 27. I'm not kidding, I went to this party!!!!

Let me walk you through my friend's and my experience. We signed up to go to Alice's Bitter Ball, which was the Friday before Valentine's Day, which is why it was called 'Bitter' Ball - because it was for singles only. And yes, we totally put on our best threads (ok, I don't think either of us were very confident in what we were wearing, hence the texts back and fourth while we were getting ready). And yes, we both checked our make up before we got out of the car, but this time my friend was driving, rather than our Mom, and it took us about a hundred years to find a parking spot.

So, we get there, we walk in and we get a name tag. But instead of our name, we get a number. Very clever. So this number now represents us, and if someone is interested in us, but not confident to come and actually talk to us (which seemed to be the theme of the night) they could send a text to our 'number' and it would show up on the big, huge screen. Great, so now we have numbers that don't stick very well, especially with the style of shirts that we were wearing, which were placed exactly in the right spot to enhance our cleavage, but not enhance a 'name tag'. We quickly grab a beer and start watching the big screen, cuz really, there's nothing else to do.

The girls were talking to the girls. The boys were talking to the boys. Quick glances were being made across the room at the so-called 'crushes' of the evening. And, to top it off, we had a classic game of Spin the Bottle and 7 Minutes in Heaven. To answer the question that I'm sure is now on your mind - no, I did not participate in either of these games, as swapping spit with complete strangers who have just swapped spit with another complete stranger makes me throw up in my mouth a little. I don't think it had this same effect on me when I was in junior high.

We did meet a couple of nice lads that night, but none that we will talk to outside of that night and we may have tried to find an escape route a time or two.

One of the best stories of the night, we were watching the big screen, a lot. So we decided to entertain ourselves and we put this message up on the screen. Then, we're talking to this random guy and he says 'Who would write that?' about another post. 'Seriously, it seems like that person wrote that about themselves. Who would do that? Pathetic'. And my friend agrees as we walk away giggling. Pathetic? More like bored.




So, the good news is, my friend and I tried something new. We put ourselves out there. When we were feeling a little bummed about the upcoming lover holiday, we decided to do something about it, rather than sulk. And, while we may not have found our Valentines, we did eventually find our escape route for the night - a photo booth!!! (Man, we have some cute pictures.)

Dedicated to #332. OMG!!

What Can a 7 Month Old Teach Us?

She's 7 months old and brilliant already!!!! The other day, while hanging out at my sister's pad, Chloe started to crawl. But the way that she did it, with such determination and motivation, is what got me so excited.

So yes, little Miss Chloe taught her Auntie Sarah a life lesson. No matter how many times she fell, she got right back up. She didn't get frustrated, she just kept moving forward. Check out her smile right before she grabs what she was going for. She knew she had made it, that she reached what she was working for.

I may be reading into this a little too much, but Chloe falls many times. And, I think we all fall through life many times. We all have set backs in life (relationships, work, money, crushes, heartache, slumps, illness, family) and we have 2 choices:

1. We can let that set back, that fall if you will, frustrate us. We can make ourselves believe that it's not even worth going toward what we started working for in the first place.

Or

2. We can learn from Chloe and let the set back be a minor bump in the road, get back up and keep on crawling.

We'll get there, we'll reach that goal, that dream.

Dedicated to my Baby Girl - Miss Chloes (oh just wait until it's my turn to start teaching her stuff)

Some call it happy hour, I call it therapy

Happy hour with my girlfriends is a lot like therapy. On Friday, I was in A MOOD. Some may say a 'hot mess'. I was hurt, pissed, disappointed, sad, mad, but most of all hurt. Luckily, I have one of the best girlfriends anyone could ask for and she gave me a good session of 'therapy'.

After a beer and a nice big glass of wine, she did exactly what a good therapist would do, let me talk. But, unlike a therapist, she knows me well enough to know when to interrupt, give me advice, tell me I'm wrong, tell me I'm right. Like a therapist, she isn't supposed to judge, no matter what I tell her. Unlike a therapist, I know she doesn't judge, no matter what I tell her.

Happy hour is better than therapy. If I was at a therapists' office, the session would end once I walked out the door. But no, not with my girlfriends. After a cocktail or two (or three) we start planning. Ways to get back. Ways to feel better. Go to Bitter Balls. Move to London. Send inappropriate texts. Have another cocktail. (Go dancing in bird cages.) Yeah, my girls know me. A therapist doesn't know me.

So, rather than go to a therapy session with someone who will charge me for every word that comes out of my mouth, I'd rather go to happy hour, where the only charge I accumulate is my bar tab.

Some call it happy hour, I call it therapy.

Dedicated to the other 1/2 of my squared.