So, I signed back up for Match.com as it’s my “go to” dating site. For the past six years whenever I’m single six months of dating always finds me not single even if I don’t meet the person through the site. It’s kind of strange, but maybe once you open yourself to the possibility of finding someone the universe takes a hint.

Here is what my profile currently says:

I should probably start by saying that I was raised in a military home.

I’m defined by more than my Air Force childhood, but it does make me a little different than your average bear. It simply means for me home is the one you love, deployments are a fact of life and not the end of the world or a relationship, buddy care is a mandatory biannual lecture, and for the right someone I’d move to the ends of the Earth. Even Alaska (if you promised it was temporary or there was a zombie outbreak because well…the new show on AMC is giving me nightmares and I’ve only seen the commercials). A quick wit, sarcastic tongue, and a twisted sense of humor come part and parcel with the ability to unpack boxes efficiently. Oh, and if you’re a military guy reading this: you can’t impress me with your rack of ribbons like all the other girls “just because they’re pretty” as I actually know what most of them are for. If it helps, I can also teach you how to spit shine your boots.

If you are intimidated by a beautiful girl who thinks optimism is a way of life and is intelligent to the point of occasional idiocy; then you are not the one for me. I’m looking for someone who can keep up with me and whose interest in me is worth writing a genuine email over. Anything less will be ignored.

Someone who is equally comfortable dressed up or dressed down would be perfect for me. If you spend more time getting ready than I do then there is a problem.

My hiking ‘boots’ are my second favorite pair of shoes and I’m willing to go camping if you promise 1) you’ll kill the spiders and b) you’ll bring the ingredients for s’mores.

Travel is important to me. (This means you need to have a passport.) After being living in England for about two years, I’ve felt the need to see the world. Just the summer before last I spent two weeks backpacking in Costa Rica with my best friend, but I’d like my next grand trip to be a bit a little less ruckmarch and a little more relaxing. I had no idea three day death marches constituted as fun for the Army. Lesson learned!

This coming summer (after surviving another midwest winter) my plans involve a short stint along the Appalachian Trail and at some point in the near future I have plans to see the Grand Canyon though I could be lured into a spontaneous road trip with the promise of orange soda.

I’m definitely not native to Indiana, just a temporary transplant, and when I’m finished with school…I’ll move. It’s as simple as that.

Above all else, I’m looking for someone strong enough to stand up to me when I’m wrong, stand with me when I’m right, and to just kiss me when I’m being an idiot.

P. S. If you think that a pretty face denotes a lack of depth, then you are not the one for me.

(The End)

Well, what do you think?

Just Keep Swimming,

Little Fish

Well, my little part of the sea got polluted. I mean, we’re talking a huge mess.

Remember West Point?

Well, he called up in the middle of the night and we spoke until dawn. He apologized for so much and at the end of the conversation it turns out that his graduation was next weekend and he invited me. This was one of the most important days of his life and since I was a big part of West Point experience, he wanted me there.

This year has been spent getting over him.

I’m finally there.

He’s deploying very soon to Afghanistan but seems to think we’ll still talk, flirt, psuedo-date while he’s gone. He doesn’t realize this was his chance to show me how’s he has changed and while he genuinely, really honest to trully scrumptious, has it’s still not enough. So, he let me let go so I could move on with my life while he’s gone to grow up some more.

Like all young romantics he believes fate somehow will step in and we’ll work out in the end with one heck of a love story. I apparently am the realist and setting the past where it belongs. He’s my best friend, always will be, but whatever else that could have been will never be.

Letting him break my heart over and over this year has only made it stronger. It turns out when you break a bone, where the break fuses together is from that point on the strongest point in the bone.

So, back to dating stories, shall we?

In the Ocean,

Little Fish

I find myself asking that question quite a bit lately: Why?

There are so many things that men say that don’t make sense and I would like a qualifier placed on their statements. Yes a big old “Because” so I may better understand the male psyche. I have three best friends, all male, and still even then I cannot understand how a guy’s brain works. I can tell you how those three brains works and the hows and whys behind them but from a random sampling of men I would be stuck in confusion and depending on the statement made misery might be close behind.

The problem is simple.

I loved someone, I left someone, and now that someone wants to come through town to see me on his way to hist very first post at Fort Lost In the Woods in Missouri. He graduates from West Point today. Today sucks for me because a piece of my heart still believed he’d come to his senses and want me there but as I’m here that didn’t happen and of course I wonder why I even care.

The emotions are complicated and I keep coming right back to the same question: Why?

Why do you want to see me?

Why are you doing this?

Why can’t you apologize for all the hurtful things you said and then leave me alone?

Why did you get posted so close?

Why were you not strong enough to love me the way I am instead of the way you wish I was?

I was only brave enough to ask the first two questions to which the answer was “To have a civil conversation and a cup of coffee.” Well, that doesn’t work as in the five months since the split we haven’t managed to have a civil conversation and neither one of us drink coffee.  

West Point is coming through town June 24th, so I have plenty of time to make up my mind, but these pesky emotions of mine are getting in the way. The problem is simple the solution is complicated by me wanting to know “Why” when I really should resign myself to never knowing.

Frustrations And Messes,

Little Fish

I was trying to decide whether or not to bring my boobs to the date.

Don’t lie. You’ve done it too.

You’ve had two or three tops laid out while you’re wearing the cutest jeans you own trying to decide what to wear. Option one is sweet, dressy but casual, and makes your eyes sparkle that little extra bit of blue. Option two is cute and that pink camisole makes your cheeks extra pink giving you a happy glow about you.

And option three?

BOOBS.

It’s a low cut little number in black paired with a miraculous push up bra that requires more skill in architecture than the Empire State Building, but dang if your boobs don’t look fantastic in it. If you’re anything like me, you start to try and justify why you’re bringing your boobs with you on the date.

1. It’s my first date since the break up.

2. Actually, it’s a test. If he keeps his eyes up, he’s gotta be a keeper.

3. Dang. My boobs look awesome in this.

Well, of course I choose option three and two weeks later, I still believe my choice was fully justified.

Perky Cups,

Little Fish

And then…

Oh, the and then. Really, it kills me the way those two little insidious words sneak in and ruin everything. This sweet guy, the first date I had kissed since having my heart smashed into a pulp turned from a rugged Landscaper into a clingy girl. Calling and texting all the time, asking where I was or who I was with and all after a single date. It was one kiss and I’m not a Bond Girl, my kisses are awesome but not narcotic…that I know of.

This, ladies and gentlemen, is what is refered to as a Class Five Clinger and was dealt with accordingly.

September 12, 2006

Conclusion of the Bunny Boiler Series

Today I heard the distinct sound of a siren. An overcast sky and rain drenched streets played background to a funeral procession as it led the way through a small town and to a final resting place.

The flashing lights recalled in my mind what had transpired the night before. 

 I was planning on seeing Date anyways and we really needed to talk about the not seeing eachother again due to the Bunny Boiler, his kids, and let’s not forget his clinginess that will drive me to murder. It’s a five minute drive from my door to his and in that time I had my windows down and my music at a slightly disrespectful level until pulling into his neighborhood. The sun was well past set, stars twinkle brightly in the darkened sky, and lights flash behind me as I step out of my vehicle.

Is that a patrol car?

Indeed it is.

Slightly dazed and mostly confused about why the police have arrived; I finally hear the shouting. Was that the Bunny Boiler screaming at the top of her lungs? As the fates would have it, I felt that moment was time for a graceful exit. 

Unfortunately, the cops stopped me before I even had the chance to start my car. Some thing about leaving the scene of a crime and domestic issues. Taking the opportunity to gaze at the night sky, I passed the time by flirting with the deputy assigned to watch over me. 

An hour passed and sweet sweet freedom was finally granted to me as they carted away Date to the clink for twelve hours.

 Bring on the Singles,

Little Fish

What Happened: What?! I was on my way to cut him loose and like I could see the guy after that? No way! Thankfully, I haven’t seen him since.

September 10, 2006

Part Two of the Bunny Boiler Series

Sunday rolls around and my phone receives two phone calls from Date. I’m cranky because the calls woke me up and that’s the last position anyone in my life wants to be in. Luckily, I just rolled over and fell back into a pseudo sleep with dreams that I can’t quite remember. 

He’s going to go play basketball and wanted to spend some time with me at some point in the day.

Too cranky to think of a reply outside of blaming someone for waking me up, I decide not to immediately return the call. The day came, took up time, and friends came over for dinner. As they left, I check my phone to finally call the Date and realize I’ve got a voice mail and a couple of text messages.

“If this is Little Fish, thanks for tearing up the family you little sl*t.”

What?!
Wait a second, where the hell did this come from? 
Private number. 

As I’m not so silently fuming, for no one calls me that and gets away with all of her teeth, a text message comes through and says nearly the same thing. Some Bunny Boiler is trying to play mind games. I’m half tempted to return the favor, but it’s just so wrong with play with the unarmed. Instead, I call Date to invite him for icecream and a conversation. When his voicemail answer instead, something clicked and I needed to clear my head. 

A long drive lasting nearly an hour provided me with little more than a few extra miles and fresh air. As the sky lit up with lighting and suddenly split open to pour down rain, I parked and stepped out of my car into the torrential downfall. 

What is it about rain that clears my head? 

Fresh Air,

Little Fish

What Happened: Stay Tuned. There’s still one more part!

August 9, 2006

Part One of the Three Part Bunny Boiler Series

The plan was perfect.I was going to arrive a couple of minutes late, sit down, have a cup of coffee, and then let him down easy mentioning his age and definintly the kids.Why do my plans never go according to plan? Shall we retrace my steps and see exactly where I went wrong?

The car battery was barely recognizable underneath the layers of dust, dirt, and rust. Amazingly enough, it turns out, that little block helps to start the entire car and without it your choice is vehicle is rather stationary. Of course, the piece must be immediately replaced, but at the cost of precious minutes that oddly enough turn into an hour.There. I said it.I was an hour late again.

Starbucks is nearly empty and after taking a peek around for a strawberry blonde, my temper is immediately pricked. He’s nowhere to be seen! Immediately, I call his phone and upon reaching his voice mail box my voice practically drips with sugar. “I’m awful sorry about running late, and obviously you’re not here. Thanks for asking me out. Have a nice life.”Storming out of the ridiculously overpriced StarSchmucks, my heels click rapidly across the pavement as I’m muttering to myself and not so silently fuming. I drop my car keys (graceful) and as I’m picking them up my phone buzzes. Of course, I answer it and it’s my date. “Calling to rub it in?”

His voice comes from behind me from a PT Cruiser. “No.”Spinning around, I drop my keys again (yep, very graceful) and I don’t remember what was said, but apparently it was good enough to coerce me to get into his vehicle and take a drive down to the lake.We talked to each other for nearly four hours straight. 
(He brought me flowers.)
One dinner and a movie later, it’s the end of our date. Where did I go wrong?
(Who knew that he could kiss like that, by the way. I would just like that noted for the record when judgement comes raining down.)

A bit of drama occured the next day, but today we had lunch together and I’m not sure what I’m going to do. So, tonight we’re going to talk a bit more after late night training for work.

Confused,
 Little Fish

What Happened: Oh, this gets messy and comes in three parts.

No one likes rejection, but I try to be as gentle and honest as possible when in the process of ending things.

What I usually say is this:

You are wonderful/sweet/amazing, but you’re just not the one for me. Thank you for (whatever activity we did) and I really hope you find your girl soon.

Getting rejected stings, I understand, but Wednesday was miserable. I told three nice guys that they weren’t the one for me, because I didn’t feel anything…no spark, interest, nada, and I recieved three very mean responses.

1. What do you mean I’m not the one for you? What makes you so darn special, huh?

2. Who are you to tell me that I’m not the one for you? You’re an idiot!

3. Whatever. I didn’t like you anyways.

Okay. That hurt a little and I’m just going to brush off your spiteful little comments because you’re big boy feelings are hurt by the mean girl who doesn’t want to spend time with you anymore. I’m not Lady Gaga and I don’t want your Bad Romance!

You know what? If I had a couple of dates with someone and I could feel in my heart, soul, or brain that for whatever reason that person wasn’t connecting to me on some level then I would rather know than live in ignorance and be strung along as someone’s pretty little trophy. How is telling someone they still have searching to do be wrong? It’s not, but I am apprently stinging a little from the unhappiness I’ve caused.

Like A Bumble Bee,

Little Fish

 August 6, 2006

The Doctor is a sweet, very attractive, and unfortunately very Catholic. I’m not religious at all and his disappointment over it is nearly palpable. Life is such and I’m the balance he needs in his life outside of the hospital but his time spent with me is very limited.

A further constraint is that the Doctor lives two hours away. I don’t mind the drive, but would like some reciprocation before I trek it again.

Why doesn’t he want to see me when he has time off?

He asked that I date only him and I’ve complied, but I really miss being around him. His blue eyes always searching mine as if I hold the secret of the universe and a plan to dominate the gypsy circuit. When he reaches out to touch my cheek or brush a stray hair from my face, I melt.

Patience is key.

The least he could do is call me. Per-maybe-haps a little text.

Feeling Torn,

Little Fish

What Happened: Still trying to remember this one. I remember that he was an Air Force officer but released into the civilian world to complete medical school and that he played guitar. Maybe it’ll come to me but I think it just ended quietly without fuss or muss.

There is this guy, who on paper, is perfect for me. Forget height; he’s intelligent, wickedly funny, and has just one dimple when he smiles and I like him even though he is Army and not Air Force. 

His favorite holiday is even my birthday! 

However (You knew that was coming, right?) he’s in Afghanistan for the next six months and when he comes back to the states he’ll return home to the South East and I live in the Midwest. Until then, I’m going to be a good friend who writes letters, sends care packages, and flirts mercilessly.

Trooper, reminds me of an interesting quote I came across today:

“We are odd compounds full of explosive material to which circumstances may at any time apply a spark, with results undreamed of even by those who thought they knew us best.”

-Joseph Farrell

What Happened: Well, we finally had a date 10-2-2010 after his year in Afghanistan. It was fine but if a girl shimmies into a smoking hot bandage dress to impress you, at the very least you can say is “Daaaaayum!” but I didn’t get that. No chemistry whatsoever. Then two days after that date he started dating a girl he met his first night back stateside. Yes, I spent the majority of a year writing a soldier who claimed he was falling in love with me only to have him fall for the first girl he saw. Lesson learned?