I’ve been single for almost 5 years now and for the past year I’ve been dipping my furry little toes into the dating pool. I’ve been wondering around long enough now to enlist someone to watch and do the commentary for me. Also, I use the word “dating” very loosely here, as it’s more like me falling in love with a stranger who happened to catch eyes with me because I was blocking the exit of the Starbuck we were in. WHATEVER, BRAD. ENJOY YOUR FRICKEN LATTE. #LoveQuest2016
I tried OKCupid and it was a fun experiment to see if this ol’ girl could still turn up the charm. However, the crippling fear that my picture was better looking than the real life version of me had me too scared to meet anyone because I can tell myself I’m ugly. I don’t need BingBong from Dorchester telling me I should get a nose job and veneers.
According to The Secret, I should start making room in my life if I want a buddy to hang out with and smooch me and tell me my hair smells like lavender. I like living in clean spaces and, that being said, my room is a rathole. Everything is fresh and delightful and I have fun trinkets you can play with but storage is not on the top of the selling points for the apartment. Everything doubles as a shelf. Bed, desk, windowsill. All shelves. When one is in use, you just have the rotate which one is going to be the main shelf, then disperse the rest accordingly. I’ve been cleaning up and making room on my shelves so my beau, which I’ve conjured with the law of attraction, can sit down and watch me brush my hair for 45 minutes and talk about how small cotton balls are getting.
To add to the atmosphere, I have lovely beeswax and coconut oil candles. However, the faint scent of farm fresh potting soil from the flower bed outside never ceases to waft in at just the right time. No, Brad. Maybe YOU shit your pants. #LoveQuest2016
I’ve been going out to events and social gatherings more than usual, because unless he drives the pizza delivery car, then I’m most likely not going to meet anyone inside my house. I’m one step away from walking around Boston asking “Are you my mother?” but only replace “mother” with “boyfriend,” “soulmate,” or “twin flame.” There are a lot of people, someone is bound to respond favorably.
I’ll report back if any of my rituals calls forth a worthy mate for my hair brushing ceremony. How’d you guys meet your partners? Tell me. Is it close by? I’ll be right over.