Over the weekend we celebrated our one year of officially being together. He surprised me with a trip to Temecula for some wine tastings. Everything was planned out perfectly - even the stop on the side of the road for me to throw up from drinking too much too fast.
Myth #1: Singles are less happy than married people
…getting married hardly changes someone’s happiness at all. Some married people experience a tiny blip in happiness around the time of the wedding. (On an 11-point scale, they are about one-quarter of one point happier.) But that is just a honeymoon effect. They soon go back to being as happy or as unhappy as they were when they were single.
Unlike traditional dating sites where members spend hours on computers writing autobiographies and scrutinizing photographs, a raft of newfangled dating tools are striving to better bridge the gap between online and real-world romance.
Some companies offer a combination of flirty calling cards and Web pages. Others operate dating applications that use the global positioning systems in cellphones to help local singles find one another.
You can do that – make the mistake of breaking up, then spend the time working it out, wooing them back, “making up” – when you’re 21 or 25. Maybe even 29. Not when you’re old. Not when you’re 32. If you make a mistake, you have very little time to make up for it. That’s why they say invest riskily when you’re young because you have time to make up for your losses. But when you’re 32, you have to invest in….mutual funds. Mutual funds are safe. Assured growth. No risk. No mistakes.
The truth of the matter of the heart is that I do not know what I want. I am so totally fuct in the head that I have absolutely no clue what I want, no clue what I think I want, and no clue what I think I think I want. Or think. Or want. My thoughts and wants are never aligned with one another, and they change in non-aligning value every day. It’s kind of like playing a twisted game of Russian roulette with my own emotions.
I know a few of you are probably here because Vox died. Thanks for hanging with me.
About this tumblr - it’s not 100% my blog about dating. I also import feeds from other dating blogs. I started this place to be a more open-ended virtual place about the subject of dating, and not a diary of my dating life.
This is an entry I’m re-posting from a VOX neighbor.
I haven’t really bothered with VOX in a couple of years. I posted somewhat regularly in 2007, but after Facebook swept in, I slowly drifted away from blogging here. I guess a lot of people did the same, as VOX is now shutting its virtual doors. I kind of hoped this little archive of my life would hang around in the aether forever, even if I’d stopped gathering my thoughts here. To be fair, there weren’t many people around left to listen. Occasionally I’d get an email saying someone had commented on one of my posts, only to discover it was some Russian Viagra purveyor spam or the like. Rather depressing, compared to how things used to be.
Most of the people I bantered with regularly on this site de-VOXed long ago. I think I’m probably in that last generation of people who still finds it at all strange and vaguely miraculous how well you can get to know someone whom you’ve never met in real life, how much you can care about their lives or feel this sense of connection to them. I had a couple of casual friends here that I haven’t heard from in a couple of years, but still smile when I see old comments of theirs or read old messages they sent (I pretty much never saved my outgoing messages on VOX, unfortunately). And then there’s the one person I met through VOX that used to make me feel like the whole site was developed by the fates for the sole purpose of bringing us into each others lives. He was the first person I added to my Neighborhood whom I didn’t know from some other context. I think the first post I saw of his was the answer to a QotD about movies. Right away, I knew we had similar sensibilities and, as I came to learn, many other things in common. He could always make me laugh. Sometimes he could conjure a lump of sentiment in my throat. Other times, he could make me salivate with the recipes he would share. It was comforting to know someone like him was out in the world. At some point, we started calling each other on the phone, randomly, just to chat. It was as if we’d known each other forever. We’d talk about our struggles, small moments of triumph, depression, past relationships, our hopes for the future, movies we liked, music we liked, politics, traveling. In other words, all the things we got glimpses of in each other’s blog, but more expanded. Sometimes we’d randomly text each other. Never sexual, just as friends — though I think we each must have had deferred crushes on the other from early on. Our strongest bond was our shared sense of the way in which past (failed) relationships tinge the present, how they shape you and how hard it is to “let go” and “move on” from someone you love(d). We were so open and honest with each other. I was impressed at how he was not afraid to talk about his feelings, was articulate about his emotional experiences. We met under the circumstances of me “breaking up” with someone who could not speak about his feelings — and I told him everything about that coming apart. He offered me what comfort and support he could, often drawing on his own past. He helped me feel not alone at a time when I felt like my best friend had cut me out of his life in a cold and heartless manner. He had been through an especially bad break-up not long before, too. Neither of us was withholding of our feelings with the other; it was so refreshing. Again, we hardly knew anything about each others pasts, but we were fast friends because our souls (if I may) seemed to hum along in harmony with each other. Though there would be months were we’d barely be in contact, there’d be other bursts of intense exchange, both on VOX and by email or phone (later, Facebook). Because of our candor with each other, shared world-views, similar senses of humor and adventure, and outlook in general, I came to think of him as one of my close friends, as part of the inner-circle. I kept pulling for him to find his way, just as I knew he was always pulling for me. In time, a strange but thrilling turn of events made us pull even closer to each other, in a way that was completely unexpected, and yet felt so natural and right. Our friendship took on this electric quality, charged with a lot of pent-up sexual frustration and desire neither of us had channeled at each other before. Honestly, I never knew it was possible, not like that. It changed our friendship, but not in a way that made it seem doomed to eventual failure; it seemed like an unfolding, rather than an unraveling. I didn’t know what was going on, only that I felt happier and more alive than I had in months. Our flirty diversion felt like it only enhanced and was deepened by our long-standing friendship. And I knew he was going through an enormous transition, moving to a new city (still not mine), trying to find work, figuring out a new path for his life; in a way, I thought of it as a way for him to let off steam, to feel like there was one way in which his was a complete success, utterly wanted and seen and loved. In fact, this was how he made me feel. In time, we did meet in person; I went to him for a long weekend. I still thought of him as my friend above everything else, through it all. I thought he felt the same way. Not long after, I came to learn in the harshest way that he did not. One day, he erased me from his life, cut off all communications with me, removed every connection we once had to each other — something that really is as easy to do as push a button when talking about online connections. He wanted to make me into a stranger again. It came as quite a shock, this treatment — out of the blue. I became unmoored, caved in on myself, despondent. I’ve spent the last 8 months trying to recover from the loss; honestly, I still haven’t. And, I still haven’t forgotten a thing and everyday, something reminds me of what I’ve lost and life is a whole lot less bright than it was last summer.
So then I get this email earlier in the week about VOX shutting down on September 30, 2010. It filled me with all this ambivalence. On the one hand, I don’t care; this isn’t a site I use to blog anymore (I don’t at all blog anymore), and if it goes the way of countless other dot.com start-ups, so what? On the other hand, this site signified for me the origins of that relationship, and just as when he cut me out of his Neighborhood, it stung (a purely symbolic gesture on his part, neither of us used VOX really any longer), so too this larger erasure of the whole site coming down. Sure, I can move my posts to another site, but gone will be the comments that trace the genesis of our friendship, gone will be the archive of email we exchanged on this site. On September 30, it will all just go away, like it never existed. But erasure isn’t that easy in the mind. It’s dramatically befitting that the end of September is when this will happen, pretty close to when he started to pull out of my life, put an end to the sexually charged aspects of our friendship. Unlike him, I was unable to just up and turn off all my feelings of that nature one day, just because he said so. It took me a while to come to terms with going back to being platonic friends. (Though we were flirty even before all the sexy fireworks went off last spring.) Suddenly, it was no longer OK to reach out for some emotional support, or crack a random joke via text message or hope for a call on my birthday. Certainly saucy notes and the like were out of the question. Now he wasn’t able to see any connection to me as anything but a come on. I became scared to express myself or share any needs that did not conform to everything on his own terms. Towards the end of January, he cut me out. He erased me, to make it easier for him to forget me, I guess. But I’ll never forget him. I still miss him everyday. And even when they take away VOX and everyone’s past and memories that were stored here are erased, it’s all still written down and preserved in those of us with hearts of the soft and warm variety.
I wish you all nothing but the best. And especially you.
Why Sarah Will Be Blogging Instead of *ahem*… on Valentine’s Day, Part 1
What it is that I really feel is not unbalancementedness, nor is it a desire to manufacture brand new words because I have a limited vocabulary of my own; it is stress. I feel this underwhelmingly overwhelming pressure to perform, and not just perform, but perform in accordance with the standard operating procedure for Valentine’s Day. I have Valentine’s Day performance anxiety. Make royally painfully iced heart-shaped sugar cookies. Bake red velvet cupcakes. Write love letters. Make dinner. Make reservations. Take long sips of sparkling rosé and seduce you like the alarmingly charming siren that I am. In my head.
VOX closing is the worst breakup experience of this blog. It not just about my relationship with this blog, but about all the friends and support group I’ve made through the blog. Since the rug has been pulled out from under all of us, we’re scrambling. We’re lost. We’re sinking and swimming in a panicked state in all sorts of directions. Where are you going?
I feel like I’m leaving traces of Dating LA everyone in the blogosphere. TypePad, Tumblr, WordPress. I’m like a blogger rolling stone - where ever I leave a post I call my temporary home.
We’re all being evicted. Virtually evicted and creatively evicted. We’re being kicked out for sharing our lives.
Please stay in touch. I’m doing my best to stay in touch with you all. I started saving all your new blog locations to my Delicious. I hope you’ll continue to follow me where I land. Right now my Tumblr seems like the right fit. It’s not the same as this blog - I also import feeds from dating and relationship blogs for additional content there.
Whether they choose to admit it or not, whether it’s a physical piece of writing or not, whether they choose to share its components out loud or not, whether they actually “use” it or not, everyone has The Checklist. They may not packagually evaluate “candidates” with it, but yes, they all have The Checklist.