Adventure #4 Up At The Cabin

When we’re babies our parents celebrate all of our firsts up until we hit eighteen, and after that nobody seems to care anymore what your firsts are.  From the first tooth, first step, first word, first day of school to first kiss, first boyfriend/girlfriend, first dance, first heart break. 

But for some reason the celebration of firsts stops there.  As if life stops at eighteen and you don’t have any more new things to do and accomplish. 

I don’t have any interest in living this way.  My firsts are still happening, and even the simple ones are still just as exciting as taking my first step.  You never stop growing.  You are always young. 

My friend invited me up to her in-laws’ cabin back in June.  I went last year, for the first time, and it was actually the trip that inspired me to do a sequel to my Hating Minnesota blog.  Last year when I rode a four wheeler for the first time I was writing furiously in my head and wished I had actually put those thoughts on paper.  I only remember the fragments of a joke where I talk about my boobs squished up against my friend’s back on the four wheeler and didn’t give a shit because I sure as hell didn’t want to fall backwards to my death….
The joke was better in my head a year ago….
But now that it’s gone, that’s all I got.  So, fast forward to this year when I was invited again, and this time I gathered more stories than just my boobs pushed against my friend’s back so I wouldn’t fall and die. 

Actually?  There is a story from last year I have to use to preface my current adventure…

Now.  I’m not an experienced four wheeler (as I’m sure you have gathered) so I am not comfortable driving one by myself even if I was allowed to.  So Maddy (who I went ice fishing with) was the captain of my four wheeling adventures.  We always drove together.  She would let me drive, but she was behind me to give me warnings of certain paths and tell me where to go. 

When night fell they lit up a bonfire.  Not just any bon fire.  The size of a burning small city bon fire.  The ladies (Maddy and her mother in-law) decided to go night four wheeling.  I was invited, so I hopped on the back with Maddy and we were off. 

Somewhere in the darkness in the middle of the gorgeous, fern floored wood we flew through a mud pit and got stuck.  I started to get nervous as we weren’t able to free ourselves.  Maddy valiantly rocked and rocked the machine, got out into the mud and pushed and shoved and worked her ass off to get it unstuck to no avail.  My nerves were rising not because I was afraid of being stuck in the mud, but because I was afraid of the conflict: bad tempers, getting into trouble…  I felt helpless so I was afraid people would gossip about how I just sat there and didn’t do anything… I was afraid of tension and people turning mean as they got stressed out about the situation.  That, is what I am used to.  I am used to stress turning people ugly and mean.  I never realized how emotionally traumatized I am by it until I meet a situation like this…

Nobody got angry.  Nobody got stressed.  Maddy’s husband came out to our little crisis in the woods, tied the four wheeler to his dirt bike and pulled us out.  And everyone thought it was a good laugh.  Nobody knows how paramount this was for me.  My anxiety vanished, like magic. 

I’m telling you, People, you have no idea how positive energy is a life saver for anxiety victims. 

The only evidence of the stuck-in-the-mud adventure...

So, fast forward again to this year’s cabin adventure….

Maddy and I met like shady business dealers at a familiar grocery store parking lot so I could follow her the rest of the way to the cabin.  The cabin is pretty desolate and can be hard to find.  It’s a fantastic, wonderful get away and I am so grateful that I have been a guest there.

The rest of the gang (Maddy’s in laws, husband, friends) weren’t going to be showing up until later that evening.  So Maddy and I had some nice friend time for a few hours and it was lovely. 

We paddled around the little pond in a canoe for a bit (me, cringing at the dark water and weeds but pushed through it like a champ). 

We went four wheeling for a while but the clouds started to darken.  Maddy drove us home before the downpour and she went full speed.  Again, I hung on for dear life resulting in some very up close and personal time. 

The rain came so we pulled out some cards.  She also pulled out some food.  One of the things she pulled out from the fridge was bear jerky. 

“This is bear?” I said, super excited to try something new.  I love animals.  But I also LOVE meat.  I can’t kill animals, but boy am I glad there’s those who can because I sure love to eat them.  So this was my first time eating bear and… It was bleeping delicious.  A little shout out to Josh who made the jerky: it was FANTASTIC. 

So Maddy and I played cards while the rain came down in the darkening, green woods outside the window.  It was a mild storm so there were lovely soft rumbles of thunder and the occasional flicker of lightning.  Maddy was a good friend and listened to a very long woeful personal story from my romance life.  I got chattier the more I drank my whiskey and coke, so… She was a very good listener.  And I’m always grateful to those who listen to me drunk dump.

As we played cards the topic of ice fishing came up.  We were talking about how fun it was going to be to go out on the ice again.  This past winter was a pretty mild one, which is rare for Minnesota, so the ice wasn’t as good as it normally is.  So I said to Maddy, “I hope this winter is a cold one.”  She looked at me.  I looked at her.  I said, “Did I seriously just say that?”  She laughed and said, “You totally did!  You’re officially a Minnesotan!”

So that happened.  Never in my life did I think those words would come out of my mouth.

Later everyone else arrived after their golf tournament, full of good spirits we shall say.  The rain stopped.  And the party got started!   

After a bonfire, fireworks and a late night feast of elk burgers (another thing I’ve never had before – elk), everyone eventually passed out in the bunks. 

The next morning I was greeted with even more divine food, a full breakfast of biscuits, gravy, farm fresh eggs and farm fresh bacon.  Their hospitality is second to none.  I’m not used to being taken care of like this, let’s just say.  They probably get sick of me making such a big deal about it, but for me it's a big deal. 

The next day was full of more first time things.  Most people take for granted these small things, traditions, you do with your friends and have been doing with your friends your whole life.  I know it was twenty years ago that we moved to Minnesota, but it has taken years to rebuild what I had in New York.  It took the first fifteen years of my life to build what I had in New York so it should be no surprise it took just as long to build that here. 

When I lived in New York?  We had family and friend traditions just like most people who grow up in the same area together do.  We went camping every year with several other families who we were very close with.  We had an annual Christmas Eve party at our house every year with the same people.  

We went fishing as a family and walked the gorges in Ithaca. 








These things you take for granted until they are taken from you.  I have not had family and friend traditions like this since my life in New York.  I haven't lived any place long enough to build them.  So now that I’m experiencing these things again in my thirties?  Now that I am part of building meaningful memories again with all of my dear friends here?  The scars from that massive loss so long ago are now  healing.  That is what this blog is about: celebrating that I have finally found home again.  I have no family here anymore so I depend greatly on my roots set in with my friends.  So when I share the so-called little things in the next few paragraphs, understand how important they are to have in my life. 

So, Saturday.

Maddy’s in-laws, Wendy and Dan, grow a few crops on their property.  Sitting around the fire that morning Dan asks if I want to learn how to drive a tilling tractor and till one of the fields.  Most people don’t get excited about chores.  But then there's me.  I’ve never done it before!  So, hell yeah I want to do it!  So Maddy got out the tractor and we drove out to the crops.  There was a grassy field with a few apple trees for me to practice in before hitting the real deal. 

As I was driving around, a mama turkey spooked and flew up from her hiding place in the tall grass and flew into the woods.  I stopped the tractor and scoped out the grass looking for movement… I knew there had to be babies in there. Sure enough, the grass blades were tremoring just ever so slightly in lines heading for the woods.

Maddy had to grab her hunting dog, Lucy so she wouldn’t kill the chicks.  We waded in the overgrowth looking to make sure all the chicks headed safely to the woods.  There was a straggler who went the wrong way, so I held Lucy as Maddy ran to get it.  After she caught it we took a moment to hold the wild turkey chick. 

As many might deem this unethical in terms of breaking the rule “don’t touch wild animals”, it was hard not to…  I used to catch baby birds all the time as a child and my hard core environmentalist best friend would, rightfully so, scold me relentlessly.  I don’t think one should go looking for baby wild animals to pick up and human handle, but this was one of those circumstances that seemed justifiable.

We had to leave the field for a while in hopes the mama turkey would come back and get her babies.  So we returned about an hour or so later, this time without the dog.  The chicks were gone, so we assumed all was good and Maddy resumed in teaching me how to till a field.

I have a whole new respect for farmers.

I first thought it’d be like mowing the lawn. 
It’s not. 
Knowing when to drop the till, turning the giant thing at the right point and not missing a patch as the loop narrows…




Maddy had to do the last corners for me at one point because I was totally not turning at the right time and I was over tilling certain patches and missing others. 

The sun was high and fiery. It was nine hundred degrees outside, and all I kept thinking was, Damn… our forefathers used horses to do this.  I’m using a giant machine and I suck at it.  It’s hard work.  But hard work makes you feel super good. 








And like I said before, it gave me a whole new respect for farmers and an appreciation for those who work the amazing, blessed land that we have.  It was an awesome experience for me. 

When we returned, Maddy asked me, “So. Want to shoot guns?”

Um. YES PLEASE.

Now, I’ve shot guns before.  Pistols and rifles.  But I’ve never shot a shot gun.  And I’ve never shot at a moving target, a clay pigeon. 

I was disappointed in my own strength and the weight of the gun.  They’re, um, heavy.  And I have super wimpy elbows now ever since Lyme disease.  Just holding a grocery basket filled with stuff at the store can make me feel like someone took a hammer to my elbows.  So.  When I held the gun up for the first time I thought to myself, “Oh shit…”

Maddy taught me how to hold the gun.  My posture was ridiculous as I was leaning backward

trying to use my back as leverage instead of my arms.  But she patiently kept correcting me.  She also taught me how to load the gun, which I appreciated. I like learning.  So it was cool to load the gun myself.  So, loaded.  Locked.  Two barrels aimed.

“PULL!”  Nope.  “PULL!”  Nada. 

My first go was unsuccessful.  And so was my second and third. My elbows felt like glass shards were sticking in the ligaments, so I had no choice but to call it quits.  My arms were shaking, and I just couldn’t do another round. 

Time to make a drink.

As the sun began to set the gang wanted to go down to the river to hunt for crayfish.  Or as some people here in Minnesota call them “crawfish” or “craw daddies”.  Growing up in New York we called them crayfish.  When I was a kid I used to hunt for them down at “the swamp”.  It was a pond that dried up every other summer and left a field of semi-dangerous mud and plantations of white dried seaweed.  The tracks we took by the park to get to this magic place used to be actual railroad tracks.  So out in the dried up pond, stuck in the mud, were rail road ties here and there.  Along with the occasional tractor tire.  Beneath the long, wooden beams and tires and rocks and seaweed we would find crayfish in the mud.  Crayfish hunting was a huge part of my childhood.  I would spend the entire summer down at the park, the swamp, every year until I moved away. 

Now, I’ve never done crayfish hunting in a river.  It’s a little different.  I'm used to trying to grab the back of the little lobster before it shoots down into a crayfish hole in the mud. 

I wasn’t used to them shooting off into the water current.  It was super fun!  I felt like a kid again. 

As kids we caught them because it was fun to put them in a bucket of mud and watch them do funny things to each other with their claws.  They were amusing pets.  I had no idea people ate them.  At the cabin, we were catching to eat them.  Well, they were going to eat them.  I have a shellfish allergy…

Anyway.  It was nostalgic to be catching them.  Silly to some.  Important to me.

We returned with a fairly good haul, and it got to be about time to start the pig roast.  That’s right.  My first ever pig roast!  Which, I know sounds lame.  Who hasn’t ever been to a pig roast?  Well, me.  When you move around a lot and don’t make friends easily you miss out on social activities... 

This was my first pig roast.

They put two split chickens inside the split pig so all the glorious fat from the pork was soaked up in the chicken meat. As I mentioned before I’m a bona fide carnivore... 

I want to quote Scrooge McDuck, here, in Mickey’s Christmas Carol when he meets the ghost of Christmas present:
“Suc-cu-lent PIG!” he cries out as he’s reaching for a roasted pig with an apple in its mouth.

“Succulent” is practically an understatement for how delicious this meat turned out.  Juicy, fatty, scrumptious, gloriously marvelously SUCCULENT meat. 

(Don't look at the pictures if you're hungry or dieting)

Every region has their own traditional social foods.  If you’re going to a picnic or a barbeque or camp site in upstate New York you’re going to be fed Cornel chicken, salt potatoes and fresh sweetcorn on the cob by SOME BODY that’s coming to the party.

In Minnesota you are guaranteed to have a spectacular tuna salad, incredible taco dip and all kinds of wrap sandwiches. 

Tuna salad is heaven to me.  Especially when it’s on the side of juicy, fatty, scrumptious, gloriously marvelously succulent meat. 

So, needless to say: I ate well. 

On Sunday I got to have another shot at shooting a clay pigeon.  Maddy, Wendy and I took turns.

Both of them were really rooting for me to hit one, and it was nice.  Eventually, I finally did! 
The feeling was amazing seeing that clay disc blast apart!  

We celebrated as if I had just lost my virginity. 

Wendy gave me a huge hug of congratulations and I felt so… included.  It was fun to tell all my family and friends that I shot a shotgun for the first time and hit a moving target for the first time. 

The rest of the trip was full of good times, lots of laughs, campfire games, fireworks and cocktails.

I was generously invited to go camping with them all on July fourth weekend up in Chippewa National Forest, and I was so, so grateful.  Camping was such a huge part of my childhood.  It's what I remember goodness to be like.  Goodness is memorable.  This trip to the cabin was memorable.  And the people who welcomed me in have no idea how valuable that is to me. 

Well, they do now if they’re reading this…. 

Stay tuned for my adventure in Chippewa! 

Dating In Your 30's and Why It SUCKS ASS

I have three adventures from this summer to still write about, but I had to bang this one out first.  Call it blog therapy...

Seeing as how I am trying to find romantic love in Minnesota, I deemed this blog post appropriate.  Love in Minnesota means all kinds, right?  So I’m going to share what it's like to date in your 30's with all those who don't understand, at the same time giving a shout out to all my fellow singletons who will freely be calling out “amen!”s and “hallelujah!"s as they read this. 

To all those who do not have to date, let me help you help your single friend.  There might be things you say with good intentions that we actually really hate to hear. 

There are a few things you should never say to a person trying to find love in their 30’s (or older). 

Ah hem:

#1  “You need to put yourself out there.”

If you say that to me I might put a skunk in your bedroom. 

Define “put yourself out there”?  Would YOU be able to “put yourself out there”?  I’ve put myself out there over and over again.  I’ve gone on so many bad, anxiety ridden dates I could write a whole book of anecdotes. 

I want to paint a picture for you on what it is like to “put yourself out there”….

Let’s begin with online dating.

I’m going to talk in detail about online dating later, but for now let’s jump to the moment you agree to meet with a person you’ve been chatting with for a few days. 

As a woman there are a million reasons why meeting a complete stranger you’ve met online is borderline insanity.  The dangers are endless. So I have to be smart about it and go through the whole rigmarole of making sure at least four of my friends know exactly where I will be, the guy’s name and have a picture of him. It is also vital to keep in touch with them throughout the date so they know I am okay. 

Meanwhile, as the hours tick by before date time the anxiety and anticipation puts me on the toilet at least eight times before show time.  I can’t speak for everyone who dates, but as I have an anxiety disorder this is absolute torture to “put myself out there”.  TORTURE.  TOOOOOOR-TUUUUUUUURE.

So… after deciding I better take an Imodium before I dehydrate, I head out to the bar we agreed to meet at all the while going over in my head the online chatting sessions we had and start to see the red flags I missed.  I start to get disappointed before I even get there… But then I pep talk myself with the same damn pep talk every time: You never know, Jess… You got to meet him first to know… Maybe you’re reading too into things… Maybe he won’t be that weird…

Nope.  My guts were right.  He IS that weird.  Or, it turns out I’m just not attracted to him.  Or, we just don’t have chemistry.  Or… he IS THAT weird. Ugh.  So many weird ones…. And not in the good way. 

So. Ya push through one drink to be polite but all you’re thinking about the entire time is that wonderful couch at home, a bottle of whiskey and marathoning “30 Rock”.  I just want to get the hell out of here, man….

You politely say goodnight and hope he doesn’t follow you home. 

You get through your door, strip and whip out the PJ’s and sit on your couch wondering why the hell you just put yourself through that.  “It’s healthy” people say.  All right, then YOU do it. 

I don't give myself the pep talk anymore by the way.  I see red flags?  I shut 'er down.  Abort! Abort!

#2  “You got to get to know the guy…give him another chance…”

Um. No I most certainly do NOT have to go out again with a guy I am not attracted to and had no chemistry with.  Um. NO. Is that how YOU met the love of your life?  Again…this goes along with online dating which is SOOOO different than meeting people in the flesh or through friends, et cetera.  That, I will also explain later. 

So, to help you help your single friend?  The worst thing you can do is pressure them into seeing someone just to see someone.  Don’t pressure them, period.  Yes, it’s possible your single friend is coming up with all sorts of stupid reasons not to see a person because they might be scared or have other psychological reasons to reject a potential contender, but if so?  That means they’re not ready yet.  It means they have some crap in their life to work out.  Let them figure it out. 

#3  “Have you tried online dating?”

Hey.  I know you’re trying to help.  I know you’re trying to be positive.  I know it can be hard to not know what to say to help.  So I don’t want to sound rude when I say this particular question is just…frustrating.  Of course I've tried it.  It's just…the question sometimes implies that I’m single because I’m not trying. 

Oh. I’m trying….

I’ve tried going out to bars with friends or even alone.  I once went to a bar alone with the intention of pretending I was stood up on a blind date.  Having anxiety, it is a HUGE deal that I did this.  I met some cool people and had a good time, but no contenders…

I’ve sat in coffee shops hoping a nice, cute guy will talk to me because I’m too shy to start a conversation.  Which is stupid, because on the super rare occasion I do get approached?  I can't make eye contact or think of anything to say and I blow it.

I go to the comedy club in hopes of meeting a non-drug-using comedian… That doesn’t work.

I’ve signed up for Meet Ups on Meetup.com, but never had the guts to go by myself to go hang out with strangers.  Did I mention I have an anxiety disorder?

Online dating. Sigh.  For those who have no experience in it?  Allow me to educate you and explain to you why no matter how many times I try, it’s just not the avenue I can take to fall in love.  Because I want to fall in love.  I’m not just looking for companionship….

Online dating is pretty much shopping for human beings.  You find yourself being FAR pickier about details than you would if you were to meet someone in the flesh at a party.  These people online are objectified into these billboard ads of their persona.  There could be a really fabulous guy who doesn’t know how to sell himself, and I’ll pass him by because the risk is too great.  If I were to meet him for the first time at a party and we hit it off, his crappy online profile is meaningless.  You see? 

Online dating means a huge spectrum of disappointment.  The roller coaster is vomit worthy.  It is exhausting getting yourself excited and then let down, time after time after time after time over a period of YEARS. The smart, creative guys are all narcissists who conveniently don’t believe in monogamy.  The guy you think might be the one you can truly connect with is actually a dick with a personality disorder.  (That’s always alarming...) Then there’s the creeps…. You get some creepy messages in your inbox that say something like, “Put more pictures up, hunny” and crap like that.  Worse than that sometimes.  Block worthy.  And then there’s the lazy asses that just want to stick their penis in something and therefore send you effortless messages like “Hey”.  Hey?! That’s how you start a conversation? MORONS. And let’s not forget the crazy crays, the married men in “open relationships” and the douche bags.  Yeah. It’s LOADS of entertainment and good character study if anything else.  I try…. I try not to let the disappointment eat me alive.

I like to express my sense of humor on my profile.  I make it very clear that I’m funny and that’s the part I choose to reveal for him to be attracted to.  Looking for duck lips and cleavage? Wrong tree man. Here’s a fun story: I had one guy not get my humor at all and called me a liar and asked why I was even on the site.   (I say on my profile that I’m 7’11” and a guinea pig farmer…because it’s funny…)  I try to make it clear that my substance has value.  Some guys are super cool and get it, and I do have my moments of positive flattery. To be fair, there ARE decent ones I talk to as well.  But then there’s others that turn my funny into degradation…  I'll get things like, “Well don’t you look the life of the party” coupled with their creepy profile picture.  Over the years I’ve learned this is code for “free spirit” which is code for “easy” which is code for a million other sexist slut shaming insinuations.  CRINGE!  My profile picture is of me wearing a batman shirt, my grandma’s fuzzy tall hat and pretending to pick my nose.  (What can I say, I’m a sexy beast.)

And then…. There’s the very occasional, very rare nice date.  Which, I’ve actually only had one (from online that is).  And it was recently.  And it fizzled and went nowhere anyway because…. I’m not entirely sure why.  He got weird on me.  Biggest disappointment I’ve ever experienced in terms of the online avenue.  It was literally the best date I’ve ever had.  And it was for him too, or so I thought.  He couldn’t stop telling me how cool I was and how much he liked me.  And it was in a way that seemed, of course, genuine. He laughed at my jokes.  Being an aspiring comedian himself, that meant something to me.  A lot of funny guys get stupid competitive.  So it was cool that I made him laugh. We made each other laugh.  I was so unbelievably comfortable with him!  We doodled on paper together and told each other riddles and jokes.  We made a funny snapchat and sent it to my friends.  When we were outside he gave his work shoes to a homeless person… I kissed him and he actually liked my forwardness.  Private details to remain private, I asked when we could see each other again and his answer was, quite eagerly, “I don’t work tomorrow night, or the next night…I have off evenings”.  Pretty clear sign he was excited to see me again, right?  I’m not crazy pants?  So, I tried to keep the excitement going.  I wanted him to know I was still feeling good about things.  Wouldn’t you want that?  Wouldn’t you want your date to reassure you that they’re still interested?  I would! I’ve been left hanging to wonder and it sucks ass!  So…… Told him I couldn’t wait to see him again, sent him a few goofy snapchats... 

He gradually got all shifty with me.

 I knew the signs. 

Started saying weird things to blow me off like, “Well I think I’m moving tomorrow.”

Are you…are you freaking kidding me? 

And then he got super weird and dramatic and turned into a real dick who doesn't, and I quote, "want to hurt ya by criticizing who you are". 

My friend Barb thinks he does drugs. 

ROLLER COASTER OF DISSAPOINTMENTS.

So…. Let’s move on to number four….

#4  “I just don’t understand why you’re still single!”

Well?  Judging by my last date apparently there's things to criticize about who I am... 

The truth is?  People are not single because they are undesirable, unattractive or horrible.  Is everyone you know in a relationship super hot and awesome?  I hope you see my point... I know the exasperated statement is meant to compliment your single friend.  I do. And I appreciate it, for those who have said it to me.  Please don't think I'm being a jerk... It just, it implies that other single people are single because they're rejects.  It should never surprise someone when a good person is single is what I'm saying....

But if you MUST know why I am single?  I can tell you.  And then you can let it be.  Every single person has their story, whether they are divorced, workaholics or just haven’t had the proper opportunities.  Or maybe they’ve been through some sort of trauma that prohibits them from having healthy relationships.  Whatever the story, it is theirs and being single should not devalue someone.  So for the sake of other singles I’m going to share my story.  Let’s get personal, people…. Here goes:

To begin with, I was an extremely awkward teenager who was terrified of boys and had a very unhealthy self-esteem.  I had one semi-serious relationship (a whopping three month go) in my senior year and it only lasted a few months because he slept with my friend. 

I got into childcare immediately out of high school which means the only men I met at my job were already-taken dads, so… opportunities?  Zilch.  I never went to college which is where most people meet their significant other.  So there’s that.  And then I moved out when I was twenty one and lived with my grandmother in Florida.  Again, I was in childcare.  A nanny.  I also had a super bad haircut I was trying to grow out and I put on a lot of weight.  So I wasn’t exactly confident enough to go out and about, and even if I was… I was living with my grandmother.  Dating was not really an option. 

The older I got the worse it grew.  I had no experience.  I fantasized about a boyfriend, but was terrified of it at the same time. 

I moved again.  No opportunities.  I moved again.  No opportunities.  Just kept getting older and older, less and less experienced all the while struggling with anxiety.  When I lived in Philadelphia I tried to “put myself out there”.  I went to a bar by myself on Valentines.  That was a nightmare.  I went to a coffee house in the hopes I would be approached.  HIGH hopes considering that I sat in the corner with a notebook like a chubby, standoffish nerd in a city where everyone else’s wardrobes exceeded mine by a landslide.  Gradually I sunk myself into my creative ambitions and became a hermit.  I was writing two novels and a screenplay during that time whilst also dabbling with little video projects.  I was highly productive. I grew immensely as an artist. But had no real social life. 

Long, personal story short I ended up moving back to Minnesota.  That was stupid.  If you knew why, you’d agree. 

From this point out I’m not going to give you the play by play of my disastrous dating life so I’ll try to sum it up somewhat entertainingly:

Why am I single?  I didn’t dive into the dating world until much later in life.  Later than what is deemed “normal”.  I started out in a very adolescent phase and was painfully aware of it.  I started online dating.  And it was horrible.

I was living at home for a few years between the ages of 28 and 31.  It’s very hard to date when you’re living with your parents.  But I tried.  And I worked very hard to get my apartment in the city so that I could move forward. 

I ended up meeting a guy online and got into a very unhealthy situation/relationship (of sorts) with him that turned out to be paramount self -destruction.  This scarred me. Scars suck.  I was in a pretty shitty place where I was very confused about sex and love and relationships, and I was thoroughly convinced that no man could love me for who I am as a person.  I was convinced I wasn’t capable of relationships and that monogamous men did not exist.

Why am I single?  Because it’s taken me a long time to figure out what I want, who I am and how to pursue something healthy.  I’ve made a lot of mistakes.  Sometimes I’m this amazing, smooth confident woman, and then sometimes I’m this train wreck, weirdo moron.  My anxiety has made me say and do some pretty weird things… There’s been a lot of “DOH!” moments in my dating strides.  I’ve also been conned, treated poorly or timing has just been a cruel villain pinning me down. 

Why am I single?  Let’s move on to the last, but not least, on our list of things to not say to a single person…

#5  “Maybe your expectations are too high…”

Now, I haven’t had these exact words said to me but I do know someone who has. (Shout out to my cousin Kim). And it has definitely been implied to me, so here goes….

I expect, for the most part, what I can give.  If this bar is too high?  Then things need to change for what we expect from men.  Because in my opinion, I’m not asking for anything unrealistic. 

I want a man who is kind not just to me but to others.  I want a man who has friends, who is empathetic and has passions or hobbies in his life.  I don’t care what those passions are, just something that drives him and makes him happy.  He should have a job.  I don’t care how much he makes, it’s not about money it’s about responsibility.  I want a man with the same values, someone who will be a good, nurturing father.  Because as old as my ovaries are getting I’m still hoping to have children.  He should be willing to commit because that’s not a problem for me at all.  I will not tolerate cheating. I have value, and I demand to be valued. I have not demanded that in the past... I want to be treated with respect.  I don’t want to deal with selfishness or any kind of abuse. 

I want the basic, obvious stuff: we should both be totally attracted to each other, have a healthy sex life while at the same time grow to be best friends.  Pretty normal stuff.  Above all I just want to be loved for who I am because I know I can love him for who he is. 

Do you still think my expectations are too high?

Dating in your thirties SUCKS. ASS. 

Why?  Because the chance of meeting a single person at this age is minimized.  Everyone is all settled and tucked into relationships by now except for the few wandering singles like myself.  It’s also terrifying having been on your own for so long you start to wonder if you’re even capable of letting someone into your comfortable, independent world.  But then you start to long for what everyone else around you has:  Someone to come home to.  Someone to watch movies with and be touched.  Someone to give you a Valentine.  Smirk if you will, but the next person in a relationship who tells me Valentine’s is overrated is getting a skunk put in their room.  It’s a fabulous holiday and it’s not my fault you don’t take advantage of it, or take for granted that you have someone to celebrate it with.  I’ve never in my life gotten a Valentine from a man.  I’ve never kissed a man on New Year’s.  I’ve never lived with a man, never came home to anybody.  In all truth, I’ve never had a legit boyfriend.  I’ve had dating relationships, I guess you would call them, but nothing serious.  Only once did I ever bring a guy to a party, and that turned out to be a hugely regrettable situation. 

OK, now I sound like I’m whining… Yikes, Jess. That’s not my intention.  My intention is to illustrate why dating at this age is god awful, lonely and despairingly painful.  I’ve had people say to me, “Oh I wish I could be dating again!  I miss those butterflies!”  Are you….insane?  You’d have to be insane to want to be in my shoes… I think for the most part people want to make single people feel better.  I get that.  I hope I haven’t offended anyone, I truly do.  I just want those who are in healthy, happy relationships (I don’t envy the oppressed ones…that’s a whole other topic) to truly take advantage of what they have.  Not all of us are so lucky. 

And the pity… I’m not looking for pity.  I’m looking for empathy.  Pity is the worst!  I fill my voids the best I know how, and I take pride in how well I deal with my loneliness.  I’ve become a strong, independent human being with an ego so scarred now it’s pretty much turned to rubber: it bounces back, time and time again. I take pride in overcoming the hurt and emotional trauma that I’ve endured in my life, and I’m still plugging along to find happiness.  What I need from the general population is a more understanding perspective on older single people.  You don’t know what it’s like to date at this age, be grateful for that and don’t give advice unless you’ve really been through it.   And stop treating single people like it’s their fault for being single, like they’re not trying hard enough.  That is rude.  Stop it.

That is all.  Peace out, yo.