The Third Wheels

It's midnight. I can't sleep. I haven't tried, but my bed looks as appealing as a dungeon floor. My body is exhausted but my brain is racing with all the times I said "you too" after the waiter told me to enjoy my food. I've tried to write this post so many times, but it always comes out preachy and stupid. They say to write drunk and edit sober. No mom, I am not intoxicated, but I am sleepy which is pretty much the same thing. Sleepy Kenzie is responsible for like 95% of all the bad decisions I have ever made in my life. I don't think this is a bad decision, but it will be a treat to see what I wrote in the morning time. It's like I'm drunk texting myself! Hi, me. Did you get a good sleep? Did you have that dream again where you were making out with Adam Levine? I sure hope so, buddy.

Okay so the topic I want to write about is very personal and maybe even too personal for people who enjoy the usual light snarkiness and running commentary on my dating life. If that is the only side of me you ever want to know about, I approve of that decision. You are excused, I won't be offended. Because we're about to get deep, ya'll. So deep I can't even see you. I don't know what that means. Here goes nothing!

For the past two days I have been dealing with major anxiety that doesn't happen very often, but often enough that I can name it and realize that I'm not actually dying no matter what my body is telling me. I like to say that if mental health was a college degree I would have majored in Depression with a minor in Anxiety. But Anxiety has been tired of not being in the spotlight so it has been taking center stage lately. Depression is glad to have a break, but also fights with Anxiety sometimes to take it's rightful place back. Instead of the two balancing each other out, it's like fighting fire with fire. It's like jumping off of a cliff and being stuck in the air. You're paralyzed with fear about falling but you're not actually moving. You can shut your eyes and pretend everything is fine or look down and freak out again. Was that too weird of a metaphor? Here's a gif of a puppy.

This puppy thinks it is going somewhere but it is not.

I don't know. Dating while having depression and anxiety is like having unwanted third wheels at all times. I'm just minding my own business, trying to enjoy spending time with another person, and anxiety is like, "Hey! Just a friendly reminder that could go wrong here. Heartbreak, disaster, death, don't leave any possible scenario out. Also spontaneous combustion is a thing, don't forget!" and then depression is like, "But none of that matters because you suck and are undeserving of happiness and love. Cheers!" And I'm like....

I'LL TAKE NOTE OF THAT THANK YOU.

There are times where they are both quiet, and I have a moment to myself. But most of the time they are right there with me. Snuggled up to me on the couch in between me and a boy. He may not see it, but it disguises itself in sudden mood swings and rude comments and picking fights for no reason. It feeds off of any negative thought and runs with it. Depression likes to self-destruct while anxiety likes to over-protect. Which means one minute I can be distant and the next clingy as all get out. It's exhausting. It's hard to keep up with. I GET IT. I'M A DIFFICULT PERSON. That's fine. I can't change the cards that were handed to me, but I can change my attitude about it. I can choose to embrace these third wheels, and make them comfy. Treat them kindly instead of telling them to shut up and go play in traffic. Acknowledge whatever I am feeling at the time, and even make sure whoever I am with knows what's going on. "Hey, sorry, I was just in a bad mood. I didn't mean to call you a douche waffle." or "Please just listen to me vent for a bit and feed my face and cuddle me and then I'll be good." Communication is key when it comes to dealing with people with mental health issues. Lucky for me, I am very vocal about a lot of things and obviously am pretty open about my struggles. Not in a oh pity me way, but like cut me some slack every now and then and realize that it's not something that is disappearing anytime soon. We are a package deal. Me, and my annoying third wheels.

I am posting about this because this helps me cope with these exact issues, and hopefully can help someone else. If anyone feels like their mental health is getting in the way of their dating life, I feels you. And you can talk to me anytime! Seriously. It's a terd in the brownie of life. But it's okay! It's all going to be okay. You are a shining star and you are doing your best. Celebrate the little victories. Like that fact that you DIDN'T send that late night text. Or you DIDN'T freak out because another female was breathing his air. Or that you DIDN'T murder anyone today.

Sometimes that is enough. You are enough. Stop beating yourself up because someone else didn't understand you well enough. One day someone is going to understand you perfectly. And you won't care that Brody Boat Shoes Wearing My Dad is a Lawyer I Have Nine Abs Handsome BYU Man didn't call you back. It. Won't. Matter!!!

Wow. I feel so great. I need to post at night more often. I love you my little turtle ducks. Good night.

The Worst

So I had my first post-non-breakup date this week and it went really well! We have a second date tonight, so I am going to lump those two together in the same post. And I promise I will tell you guys about it instead of just being like "he's really nice" because ya'll are my besties and I tell you guys everything. Also I am extreeeeemely cynical and am preparing for it to end horribly by writing about it before that happens. :) BUT for now, I would like to tell you about a previous Tinder date that I went on years ago. This life is full of uncertainties, but there are a few things I know for a fact:

1. Spoonfuls of peanut butter are a completely acceptable substitute for a meal.
2. Anyone that starts sentence with, “No offense, but… ” is about to say something horrible.
3. Burke Ramsey definitely killed his sister.
4. The following date is the worst date I have ever been on in my entire life.

Although this was 4 years ago, it was traumatizing enough that I remember the most important details. His hair was a bit too long and was curling upwards at the ends like Jimmy Neutron’s mom. Not a fan. Since that’s too long of a code name I’m gonna call him The Worst. Because he is.

It was the summer I was living in Vegas with my parents in between semesters. I don’t think I have to tell you the pickins’ were slim. My YSA ward consisted of college guys my age that were in Vegas for the summer and had absolutely no intention of taking girls out that they didn’t meet on the strip, and older guys that were single for very obvious reasons. I used Tinder to reassure myself those of the opposite gender were attracted to me and the guys in my ward just sucked. Although matches were not hard to get, guys that weren’t avid club goers or borderline alcoholics were. Not exactly my type. Also not to mention the number of LDS guys compared to those in Utah were much smaller. Flirt to convert is not a thing. Just speaking from experience here, if our goals are not similar, then nothing is going to come of it. (Maybe we can make out or something, but that’s it. Okay, you can come with me to Thanksgiving so my family can shut up. But that’s it.)

The Worst was indeed Mormon and an RM, which doesn't brand him for life as a certified Good Person but it's not a bad starting point. And since the Mormon crowd is pretty close-knit, I heard through someone in my ward that they went to school with The Worst and for some reason that was good enough for me. I didn’t hunt this person down and ask about him, because I tend to like to give people clean slates. I didn’t want to start off the date knowing about everyone he dated in high school and the scorned women of his past. I’ve kind of come to the conclusion that almost every guy is some girl’s Satan in the Flesh, and every girl is some guy’s Crazy Whore of the Earth. Everyone has baggage and dating is messy, so there tends to be some casualties along the way. I myself as an imperfect person have done some pretty crappy things to people. I'm sure someone out there, maybe even someone reading this, thinks I deserve every bad date I talk about and it brings them joy. I can live with that. You do you.

I lived in my parent's house at the time, which might be intimidating for most guys. And actually explains the next few events that occurred. He texted, not called, TEXTED me that he was outside my house. In his car. I took a deep breath. This is fine. Maybe he’s nervous. I walk toward his car, and he’s not getting out. Not to introduce himself, open my door, nothing. I got in the car and quickly introduced myself. Not a fantastic way to start a date with a stranger, but as I said, I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. I don’t remember what we talked about on the way there, I just know it felt awkward. Our conversation was not flowing well. Again, I chalked it up to nervousness. We went to get frozen yogurt. He did pay for me, so he didn’t screw that part up. But he happened to know the owner and had a very long conversation with him (we’re talking 20+ minutes) without introducing me once or acknowledging my presence.

Gee, this is a lot of fun but I gotta go do absolutely anything else.

But I didn’t leave cuz like, he drove me there and I wanted to eat my fro yo. As we finally sat down and ate, he still proves to be a terrible conversationalist. I was asking all the questions, and he wasn’t putting in any effort to get to know me. Why was I there?? I was already beyond annoyed, thinking it couldn’t get any more uncomfortable, when he says something that makes me think I hallucinated.

In response to something I asked him, he replied, “Yeah, my girlfriend… “

What.

“Did you just say you have a girlfriend?”

“Well, sometimes I call her my girlfriend.”

Kill me. Kill me now.

“What?”

“She’s going on a mission so we broke up, and I’m trying to date other people.”

“So she’s not your girlfriend.”

“Well I go and see her when I’m up north.”

WTF.

what the fresh hell is this

I hated everything that was happening. This guy was delusional thinking any girl would want to go out with him while he blabbed on about his non-girlfriend. I told him he probably shouldn't be asking girls out until he works that out, and he could tell I was fuming. As we left, he said something to try and make things better and then offered a hug. Don’t ask me why, but I hugged him. Ick. I don’t think there’s enough showers in the world to wipe that off. He seemed weirdly concerned about me and my feelings all of a sudden, and asked if we could go to a park to talk. I felt like he was trying to apologize in his own way, and maybe I could get a better explanation about the girlfriend thing. I was STILL giving this bozo the benefit of the freaking doubt. What is wrong with me. Well, you see... *See my 345 page research paper for more information on my issues.*

As we park in the parking lot of the park (lol) we sat there for a second. Many seconds. I asked if he wanted to actually get out and walk around, I mean it was in the middle of a really nice day. He said no, he wanted to stay in the car and talk.

Ef.

What I thought was an innocent suggestion turned very quickly into the stuff of Tinder nightmares.

“Wanna sit in the backseat?”

“Uhhh… not really?”

“Why not?”

“Because it’s unnecessary, why can’t we just talk where we’re sitting?”

“I wanna cuddle.”

“No. I don’t know you.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please? Will you sit in the back seat with me?”

“Will you drop it? I said no.”

My tone sounds angry, but looking back I was probably being nice and playful about it.

help

A guy saying he "just wants to cuddle" is code for "I want to do anything but cuddling." Cuddling is the gateway drug to NCMO's, kiddos. I told him I needed to go. “Nah, you don’t need to go.” “I do though.” “No you don’t.” In girl code fashion I texted my mom, my sister, and my best friend to call me and pretend I needed to come home right away. I don’t remember who called me but someone did, and we had a fake conversation about how I needed to leave. EVEN AFTER THIS PHONE CALL, HE STILL DIDN’T THINK I HAD A GOOD ENOUGH REASON TO GO HOME.

This is it. This is how I die.

It got to the point where he was being creepy. Yes it was broad daylight, and he was a pretty skinny guy so I felt like I could take him if I needed to. But I didn’t want to spend one more moment with him in that vehicle. I didn’t want to be on the news. I didn’t want to have to murder someone, not today. I have a lot of untapped rage that has built up over the years from 5th grade bullies and other a-holes like him.

I guess walking was an option, we were close enough to my house. But my pridefulness said that he should at least have the decency to drive me. Yes he was a major weirdo on every level, but I don’t think he was going to try anything. He’s just used to girls not turning him down. He was good looking enough, I guess. But like, his personality is so ew.

After being in the car for way too long, maybe 15-20 minutes, he finally drives me home. He gets out to hug me this time. I go into my house. I kiss the ground. I hug my dog. I delete my Tinder. Never, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, ever, again.

lololol

Minutes later, I get a call from him. An apology maybe? My ego liked the sound of that. When I answered, I came to find it was far from it. This guy spent HALF AN HOUR talking to me about every bad thing he had ever done and details you should only be telling your wife and probably your bishop. I think a part of me had a premonition about this blog or something, because I stayed on the phone and just listened. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Everything he was spewing was fantastic blackmail. It was bizarre. I am a stranger on Tinder that he just had a terrible date with, and the things he was telling me were so inappropriate considering that I wasn't his betrothed or his therapist, and if I was evil enough I could have used it against him somehow. I wish I could tell you what he said, but it is TMI even for this blog. He wasn't harassing me or anything, or I would not have refrained from unleashing my wrath if that was the case.

this is me trying to be intimidating

After I hung up, I never heard from him again. BUT I did run into him over the summer while I was with some other friends, except I avoided eye contact and pretended like I didn't know who he was. Which I think was for the best. I don't think I got on Tinder for a while after that. By that I mean like, maybe I deleted it for a few weeks. Who's to say. I've had it off and on as long as I've known of it's existence. That's not the point. The point is, the worst date I've ever been on came from Tinder and the best date I've been on came from Tinder. Sometimes you win and sometimes you lose.

You = Jerry. Pie = Tinder.

~*~*~*~*~THANKS FOR READING~*~*~*~*~*

Do you guys remember when we would sign all of our e-mails in middle school like that? We should bring that back. I'ma start.

HAHAHAHAHAA

WELP. THAT DIDN'T TAKE LONG.

Remember that time I said Tinder was staying gone from my life indefinitely?

Let's all laugh together.

It's been 3 weeks of sulking since I was royally dumped on my arse, and that's 2 weeks and 6 days too long for my taste. Even though a part of me is more than happy to pout for an eternity, the not-psycho part of me is dragging me kicking and screaming back to the Tinder wasteland. I cleared some apps for my phone, turned on my Boss playlist (consists of Beyoncé, Nicki Minaj, and Meghan Trainor to name a few plz don't judge me), clicked the download button and waited for regret and pain to follow. Instead, I felt nothing. I think I have permanently cleansed myself of all bad feelings associated with Tinder. Which is good. I think the vibes you have while swiping are transferred electronically and the person on the other end can sense them. So if I have positive energy I will attract less weirdos. Trust Me I Am An Expert.™

As I logged on, I immediately changed all my pictures. Most of them were 2-3 years old. I have a theory that 22 year old Makenzie attracts different people than 25 year old Makenzie. Less coeds that are still finding their way through life and more guys that have careers and know how to do their own taxes. I mean, I'm still figuring out taxes but it's good if at least one of us knows how to do that.

Next was the bio. When I logged back in it was, "Talents include rapping Super Bass flawlessly and avoiding confrontation." Another past favorite I remember having was "swipe left if you don't consider Pluto a planet." Short quips are excellent conversation starters and reveal absolutely nothing about my life other than I am funny. And if they don't think so, then I didn't want to be talking to them anyway. I quickly changed it to, "My cat doesn't like you and she likes everyone." Satisfied with this pop culture reference mixed with the fact that I will always love my cat more than I love any person, I start swiping.

I swipe right a few times, and swipe left a few hundred times. I always forget how picky I am. But remembering that this was the formula I used for all past dates and didn't have any issues finding normal guys, I trench on and resist the urge to swipe right on those who say they have a thing for redheads in their bio. As the matches start to pop up, I already felt significantly better. I should probably seek help for the rush I get from strangers validating my attractiveness on the internet, but that's besides the point. The point is I am getting back on the stupid horse. Because sometimes the ride is really wonderful and exhilarating and sometimes you get bucked off and eat dirt. But it's still better than walking. There is no end goal or "I'm going on a date every week until I die" thing. That's exhausting. I'm going with the flow, and will be blogging my adventures along the way. I am perfectly content being single forever, but who says I can't be a hot 65 year old still going on dates? WHO SAYS???

For those curious about the content of my previously mentioned Boss playlist, here's one of my favorite songs that I feel very much relates to Tinder and is good for the single soul. Enjoy.

Schmidt & DB

I'm baaaaaaaaack.

NO, I did not re-download Tinder (yet.)

But I do have sad Tinder related stories for you. Put on your seatbelts, get out the tissues, and I accept pity payments via Paypal at makenzie.vance@gmail.com thank you.

Schmidt

Schmidt from New Girl is well dressed, opinionated, abbreviates many of his words, and is laughing-til-you-cry funny. This guy I'm going to talk about is no different so we're gonna call him Schmidt. He once joked that he would end up on this blog one day, and one of his code name suggestions was "my cousin Moze" but that's gross and we shan't be using it.

We met on Tinder. The beginning to any classy, modern love story.

Except, Schmidt absolutely refused to admit this to anyone that asked and would blatantly lie about it. I guess I don't blame him, but it's not like we met at a seedy club or a Nickelback Concert. But whatever, he hated it and that was fine. This was probably due to the fact that he was a normal human. He was only on Tinder for like 2 seconds before he deleted it and I just happened to fall into that window. It was like the Tinder gods parted the heavens and said, "You seem like a nice girl who needs a break, here's a cute boy with no criminal record and has all his teeth. Go nuts."

I know what your next question is, and no he is not any boy I have written about thus far. We didn't even meet during my last Tinder rampage. We actually met a year ago, and had an awesome first date. I told people it was one of the best dates I had ever been on, on or off Tinder. Long story short, I moved away shortly after and we both got into relationships so neither of us were super heartbroken. ANYways let's fast forward to this year when I saw him at Target.

I saw Schmidt at Target by himself, but I was too chicken to go up and say anything to him. He could be dating someone or just flat out not know who I was, so I decided messaging him on Facebook was the safer, less creepy route. Thinking back it's really not any less creepy. We had a short conversation updating each other on our lives, but he did indeed have a girlfriend so the convo was short. A few weeks later he broke up with his ex and I get a message from him asking if I wanted to do something.

This is the part I am going to have to fast forward as to avoid throwing up all over my keyboard.

Basically we hit it off and started seeing each other fairly regularly for about a month and a half. I hung out with his friends, he hung out with mine, he even met my mom. I was gonna meet his parents when they were in town. It seemed to be going swimmingly. We were acting very couple-y very quickly without the title, much to my dismay. But I'm pretty used to non-relationships. I can't seem to escape them. Like Herpes. Or political posts on Facebook. A few times I would ask how he was feeling about things to which he responded that he just wanted to take it slow.

Which brings us to a few days ago when I was sitting in my living room, trying to set up my IKEA furniture I had just bought because #adulting. Schmidt had just helped me bring it in and I told him he could stay and help me put it together if he wanted, something I feel is completely in the realm of responsibility of non-boyfriends. Instead he hits me with the "I actually wanted to talk to you about something... " and my heart sank. The tone of his voice was not good. I slid right into denial. "No. I don't want to talk." "You don't wanna talk?" "I mean, yeah, okay fine let's talk."

I am a 25 year old woman living in Happy Valley Utah, I know a thing or two about being dumped. For the next few minutes as I listened to him talk about how great I was I felt the tears welling up in my eyeballs. Crap. I used to have a rule about not crying in front of boys. Firstly, it ruins your makeup you carefully put on in prep for hanging out with them. Secondly, it's hard to get any words out to form a coherent sentence. I asked if there was another girl. He said no. I asked if there was anything about me that was a deal breaker for him. He said no, it was nothing I did or said. I was so super duper great. He just wasn't feeling the same connection he felt with me on our first date. It was a conversation straight out of the Bachelor except there were no cameras or makeup crew to help me fix my face.

Yikes.

Ugh. And he was so nice about it too. You'd think that would make it easier, but I don't get to trash talk him and that always makes me feel 1000% better. I couldn't think of one legitimate reason to be mad at him for, other than not liking me. Which he has zero control over. You know what the sucky part is though?? Because of our non-relationship status it wasn't even technically a break up. It was a pre-break up. I don't even get a participation trophy. The game just ended in the middle and nobody wins and everyone goes home confused and sad.

Half of me was so gutted that I wanted to curl up into a ball and just cry until I died or got hungry. The other half of me that is the queen of bad decisions wanted to re-download Tinder and hook up with the first person I could find to agree to it that wasn't disgusting. I KNOW I HATE ME TOO. Since neither of those are healthy options, I am blogging. It helps me cope more than anything else, and gives me an outlet to vent and make people feel bad for me. (Gift baskets appreciated and encouraged.)

Does this make me want to get back on Tinder? A little, yes. Because if I found someone like him than that means there are more gems out there I could find. And then another part of me would rather punch myself hard in the face than do that. I want to never leave my house where me and my cat can live happily ever after and never feel vulnerable or hurt again. I can order groceries to my house from Amazon, as well as every other necessity I could ever need. I will make Lily an Instagram star and support my lifestyle through her sponsors and modeling contracts. It is a flawless plan where no boys are involved and I can live my life drama and tear-free.

But as for right now, I have bags under my eyes that look like I have been doing too much crying and not enough sleeping. I had a milkshake for dinner last night. Which I feel is a lot better than I could be doing.

This brings us to the following evening.

DB

DB is short for douche bag or any other expletive you can think of. Please refer back to my first post for the full back story to this. To sum up: we met at a singles event over the summer, I promised I'd buy him pizza, he got my number, never heard from him again. Pretty simple. So fast foward to 2 nights ago when me and a friend went to a concert of a band that was really popular in our high school days. Unfortunately, DB's band was opening for them. But I'm an adult and did absolutely nothing wrong so I didn't feel weird about seeing him. His band didn't suck, I'll say that. When the main band came out, me and my friend were within kissing distance of the lead singer most of the time and I totes touched his hand. It was the exact sweaty, magical break I needed after a rough day. I was exhausted after the show but my friend wanted merch so we waited in line. DB was at the table with his band's stuff and when we came by he was like, "Hey you!" and hugged me like we were friends and not people that met exactly one time at an awkward YSA event. His band mate asked how we knew each other and DB wasted no time in saying, "She hit on me at a singles ward thing."

"Okay, no." I'm pretty sure were the first words out of my mouth or at least the ones in my head. Instead of retaliating with the fact that anyone with an IQ over 30 could see that he was flirting with me, or that he is the one that got my number that night, I throw him under the bus a little. "Listen, we were supposed to go get pizza and this kid never got back to me" I told his friend. DB shrugs and then says one of the stupidest things I have ever heard. "Well, that's cuz I knew you would end up paying for it."

I have several problems with this answer. Firstly, this has never been a problem of any male's in the history of ever. He should get some kind of recognition for being the first one. Secondly, that was literally the deal. We made a bet. I lost. And the loser had to pay for pizza. When I said this he says, "Well, I cheated." Nice. My friend who is not known for holding anything back says, "So you cheated on the bet and then never followed through with it?" and something about how it was a horrible thing to do. DB feigned guilt but all in all didn't seem to feel that bad about it. One of my shining moments in all of this was the next part. I said, "Who refuses free food, with this??" motioning to myself and my hotness. Which I was, by the way. My eyebrows and lipstick were cooperating with me that night so I said a silent prayer to thank the makeup gods. DB goes, "I know, perfection."

I am used to guys shamelessly flirting with me even though I have given them no inclination to do so. It's the nature of most egotistical musicians and consequently half of the Provo population. He was clearly not going to admit to blowing me off or apologize for anything ever, so I gave up trying. Asking why a jerky person is being a jerk is like asking a dog why it is barking at nothing. You won't get an answer, just more barking. After several eye rolls and guilting them into giving us free CDs, we left. The drive home included a lot of swearing and contemplating moving to Guam, but I eventually felt a lot better about the entire situation. He's obviously a terd blossom who is lucky I ever considered spending time with him. I also appreciated Schmidt a hundred thousand times more for being so honest with me when he ended it. I could tell he was being genuine and never actually wanted to hurt me. As my sister lovingly stated, Schmidt "raises your group average quite a bit."

I am in a place where I don't think I'm going to have the energy to date for like another 6 years. Tinder is staying gone from my phone and life. But I do have some more Tinder stories I never told you guys that are way less sad, so I might delve into those a bit.

Thanks as always for reading, and stay classy Provo!

Tinder Hall of Fame

7 weeks

19 dates

92384 oz. of DP consumed probably

Did you guys even realize all that happened? Did you know what you were putting me through? What's that? Literally no one asked me to do this? Okay but did anyone not ask me to do this? That's what I thought.

I have been on more dates in those few months than I have been on in my entire life. Granted, about half of those are non-Tinder dates. BUT I blame this entire Tinder experience for my dating life picking up at all. It's like guys can smell the competition. Or Mercury was in retrograde or I DON'T ACTUALLY KNOW. Instead of posting some long rambly vomit on what I have learned and how much I've grown as a person, I'm going to end on the same snarky note I started on. What better way to go out than celebrating all the champs who didn't make it? The Tinderers who are still lost in the sea of bad grammar and people cheating on their significant others. The ones who are determined to make Tinder work for them because their cousin's friend's brother's co-worker totally found her husband on Tinder so it can WORK. It. Can. Work. *sniff* Okay, can we be clear that the amount of people that find love on Tinder are probably among the percentage that find love on The Bachelor? It happens, but that's not what it's meant for. It's for entertainment purposes and most people are not being sincere. It's all a big creepy game to them. And the ones that are being sincere get taken advantage of. If you are in the latter category, you need to either realize that you're going to have to sift through a lot of human garbage to get to the good stuff. OR save yourself the trouble and get the heck out of dodge.

I have been taking screenshots since I started this whole thing, and when I counted them I had over 100. Maybe one day in my memoir I will include them in totality, but for now I have narrowed it down to 42 of the best of the worst. There's also some Bumble screenshots thrown in there, which for anyone unfamiliar it's the exact same as Tinder but girls have to say something first in 24 hours or else the match goes away. But the same weirdos from Tinder are on Bumble so I see absolutely no point to this. Something fun to do is watch your matches slowly die as the time runs out and think about how much you do not care.

Here goes nothing with the funny, the sad, and the WTF.

**slideshow temporarily not working, will get it fixed ASAP!**

And that's a wrap, folks. BUT WAIT. I have a surprise for you guys!! In between Tinder dates I have been working hard on my side hustle, a shop called Smitches where we sell hand foiled, sassy prints. And since you guys have been with me since this blog started, or at least you got to the end of this post, you deserve a treat. I am giving ya'll FREE shipping with the code TINDERER at checkout. The code will expire at the end of September, so you have plenty of time to choose one of our sexy Halloween prints or maybe some early Christmas shopping? Too soon?

LOVE YOU GUYS. STAY SAFE OUT THERE. DON'T GO TO PARKS AT NIGHT TIME. UNLESS THEY ARE WELL LIT AND YOU HAVE YOUR LOCATION TURNED ON. :)

Tinder Queen, out.

Week 5 & 6 // Love Yo Self

Hello! Hi! I'm alive. I haven't been killed on any of my final Tinder dates. I went on 2 Tinder dates for week 5 & 6, unintentionally with the same 2 guys. And I have been stumped on exactly what to talk about. I couldn't think of anything funny to say, because they were perfectly good dates with REALLY NICE guys that didn't do anything wrong. They were absolute gems, cream of the crop, total sweetie poos, and completely dateable. Then it hit me! Although they were both very different, the same thing was lacking with both of them. That illusive minx, that uncontrollable power that makes or breaks a relationship: chemistry. I've talked about this a little here and there, but never into depth. But I have a lot of opinions on this subject, making it the perfect thing for me to ramble about. It's been very downplayed in church talks and even in conversations with fellow singletons, which is a shame. Chemistry is EVERYTHING. Every-thing.

I'm going to correct a few misconceptions right now about what chemistry means. Chemistry is not how cute you think they are. Chemistry is not how similar their personality is to yours. Chemistry is not how good of a kisser they are. Chemistry is simply how connected you feel to a person for unknown reasons beyond the realm of anything I can put into words. I have dated people I did not initially think were super cute, I've dated people that were the opposite of me in every way, and I've dated people that were not even that great of kissers, but I still really liked them because we had good chemistry! It's a thing. It's real. And it's important! Chemistry doesn't guarantee you'll be together forever. But it's a good place to start. I am a very passionate person who doesn't like to half-do things. If I'm in a relationship, I want to be giddy about that person. I want my eyes to light up and my heart to race when someone mentions their name. As a 25 unmarried person, I am told this goes away over time. But ya'll got me MESSED UP if you think I am not hoping for that to last for the good first part of a relationship and even marriage. I'm going to tell you guys something really cute, okay? I was talking to my mom about this, and she said she still gets butterflies when my dad walks into the room. And she didn't even have to say this out loud for all us kids to notice, because she usually jumps on him and makes sure to gross us out with how affectionate she is every time he comes home. Okay, not EVERY time, but a fair amount more than is probably normal for people who have been married as long as they have (almost 30 years!) This is also just their personalities, but consequently it is also mine. It's something I look forward to, and something I know is possible. And I'm holding out for that!

Speaking of my mom, whenever I tell her I went on a nice date with somebody but I just didn't feel that spark, she claims I need to give it more of a chance. Maybe I will grow more attracted to them as I get to know them, and I might be missing out on my husband and her future grandbabies. While I have yet to convince her my kitten is a perfectly good substitute grandchild, I am also not somebody who needs a lot of time to figure out if I have chemistry with someone. In fact, for me, this is very instant. It's a blessing and a curse. I know right away if that romantic connection is missing, and no amount of time that passes ever changes that. Especially with somebody I'm not sure about, it never amounts to anything more than what I initially felt as a friendship no matter how many dates we go on. There is nothing wrong with this, as long as that other person also knows about it. Leading people on is super uncool, and I encourage everyone to be honest with people they are dating. But if you are the one that is rejected and told they weren't feeling it romantically, but you were, dat sux. I'm sorry it didn't work out. But you can't get hung up on this person. If you want to remain friends with them, be my guest, as long as you can handle it emotionally. If you continue to be friends with them and later complain about "friend zoning" even if that person has made it clear of their intentions, I have a question for you:

Why. Do. You. Want. To. Date. Someone. Who. Doesn't. Like. You???

How massochistic is that? There is a video I saw recently that is laiden with strong language so I won't share it on here, but the basic message was this: unrequited love is not a thing. It's a myth. Romantic love is something shared between two people. Anything else is infatuation, obsession, or lust. U mad yet? You can disagree all you want. But the fact that someone is not interested in you should be the most unattractive quality about them. Why are we getting stuck on people who blatantly don't want us? If I could go back in time and tell my younger self anything, it would be to stop thinking about *insert dumb boy's name here* because the fact I devoted any time to someone who did not care about me makes me want to scream. So now I am going to scream at you. YOU ARE THE BEST THING SINCE SLICED BREAD AND WAY BETTER THAN NUTELLA HOW DARE YOU SECOND GUESS THAT. YOU DON'T NEED A STANKY BOY OR GIRL TO TELL YOU THAT YOU ARE A BEAUTIFUL ANGELIC BEAM OF LIGHT AND IF THEY DON'T SEE THAT THEY DEAD DUMB.

Write that on your mirror if you have to. I am going to end on this quote:

LOVE. YO. SELF.

WEEK 4 // Ponytail Derek PT. 2

This is late late late but there's a reason for that. It's because I couldn't decide for the life of me what I wanted to talk about. I went on two dates this week, but both were non-Tinder dates. I don't mind discussing actual dates, but the problem is both gentleman are in my ward. One is very aware of this blog (what up) and I don't think the other has any idea. I just don't want to be known as the serial dater in the ward that blogs about it and says mean things. Because I would probably eventually be called into the bishops office, and also hurting their feelings is not my intent at all. Both of these guys were incredibly nice, had the guts to ask me out (one chased me down in the parking lot!), and I want to give them kudos for that. That stuff is hard. Which is why I have avoided it for most of my life. So I am not going to punish them by blasting our dates on the internet. If either of them was a jerk I might be singing a different tune. If I can ever prevent any other ladies in the ward from having to suffer, I will make it my calling to do so. Okay but could you imagine a ward calling like that? "We would like to sustain Sister Vance as the new Ward Dating Specialist, all those in favor please manifest it."

But I think the reason these dates happened when they did, is because I distinctly remember telling myself that weekend that I needed a break from dating. I was going to take a week off because I felt really burnt out. And then suddenly I had 2 more dates planned. OKAY I GET IT. This is my life now, and there is no turning back. And I only have 4 weeks left. If Britney Spears can get through 2007, I can make it through this month.

I think.

THURSDAY NIGHT // Ponytail Derek

As you remember he was playing a show that I enthusiastically invited myself to. I tried finding friends to go with me, but it was a Thursday night so everyone was busy. Although I think this goes against some sort of dating handbook rule, I decided going by myself was not going to be a big deal. I genuinely wanted to hear him play and as I previously mentioned, I needed to imagine him in that tux I talked about. When I got there I immediately regretted my decision. From what I could tell everyone was in friend groups or on dates. There were a few people by themselves glued to the wall, so I decided to also do that. He was backstage rehearsing, and I texted him letting him know I was there not expecting a reply. I just needed to look busy because suddenly I felt so aware of being alone in this dimly lit room. I'm not going to tell you where this concert was, because it wouldn't be hard to identify him after that. I'm sure anyone who pays the slightest bit of attention to the music scene in Provo can already narrow it down. Congratsies

Anyway, he starts playing his set and I stood near the front so he could see me, but off to the side so hopefully no one else could. Standing there alone staring up at my tinder match I felt very um... pathetic. Did I look as desperate as I felt? Should I just bail now and pretend I was never there? And when he asks where I went I tell him he has me mistaken for my twin I forgot to mention? No. Stupid. Don't be a baby. After he finishes and comes back out, I see him talking to a few people by the side of the stage. Of course I am going to say hi, but in my head I felt like that was his job. I came out to his show, he should find me and at the very least thank me for coming. Instead I stand there for an eternity patiently waiting for him about 6 feet away. The next band starts playing, and he has yet to acknowledge my presence. Is this really happening? Did he hate the fact that I showed up? Is that his girlfriend talking to him? I'ma freak out if it is. Okay, so no it wasn't his girlfriend. I'm just giving you all an inside look into how my brain works. Because the ending to this story will give you an inside look into how all the male brains work that I have ever encountered.

It's been 15 minutes since his show ended, and he is still acting like I am invisible. Maybe I am? Have I finally achieved my lifelong dream of being a fly on the wall because I am a nosy smitch? Ugh. NO, girl, he ignoring you. Hard. I have 3 options at this point:

1) Run. Run far. Until I can't run anymore. So like... the next block over. Walk the rest of the way to my car in shame.

2) Go up to him and be super snarky. Tell him I don't appreciate being ignored and ask why he's being so sketchy. Yell "WHO IS SHE???" super loud.

3) Talk to him like an emotionally stable human.

I think about all my options, and decide the 3rd is the most adult-like thing to do. I approach and say hi, tell him he sounded good, pretend I am not pissed at all, the usual. I tell him I'm not staying, because I had a friend staying at my house that night, which was true. Could I have stayed longer? Yeah. But I was extremely uncomfortable and he clearly was not going to hang out with me the rest of the show. He says, "We should hang out sometime!" which is guy code for either "I never want to see you ever again" or "we should hang out sometime." It could go either way. I leave, and am pretty mad at myself for not foreseeing how poorly this was all going to go. Life was not an indie movie. I am just a Tinder girl, in a Tinder world. Life in matches. Not fantastic!

OOOH OOOH. COME ON EVERYONE SING ALONG.

We end up meeting up later the next week (I'm breaking my rule of chronological order but this is important to the story), so obviously I find an opportunity to bring it up. I mention that I felt a little ignored at his show, and he begins to look confused. He takes a few seconds to remember what happened that night. He claims he saw me when he was performing but didn't notice me standing nearby after. He explained that he was just doing his own thing and that's why he usually doesn't invite people he knows to his shows. HOW DID I MISS THAT BEFORE?!? He probably had tried to steer me away from coming and I wasn't getting the hint. I had the 500 Days of Summer soundtrack blasting too loudly in my head. Oops.

So basically, I misinterpreted everything and overreacted for no reason. Sounds about right! Way to go, me. We still talk sometimes but I think we both know it's not going to be anything serious. Although I never found out what shampoo he uses, I'm glad I gave it a chance. I learned that I really need to chill, and stop assuming the worst out of every man. The only upside to this is being pleasantly surprised when they do something very average. "You remembered my name??? Wow you're a gem, what are you doing for the rest of your life? You busy? Wanna get married?" But I will try to rewire my brain to stop taking things personally, as much fun as it is to make everything about me. Sometimes a guy isn't trying to piss you off and is literally not thinking about it. Or anything. I still haven't figured out how this occurs. If I'm not thinking about anything, assume I am comatose and take me to the hospital immediately.

The Art of Tindering PT. 2

Welcome to the second part of an undetermined amount of posts in my series where I teach you how to own one of the best and worst platforms ever created. Except you can't be the queen, that's my job. You can be like a handmaiden or something.

Me in my Tinder domain.

PART 2: Swiping Right

I have had Tinder on and off for years now, and I currently have 289 matches. That's pretty good for someone who just made a swipe left list that consists of 90% of the Tinder population. You guys just underestimate how many people are actually on this unholy app. We think Tinder is just for floozies looking for their flavor of the week and major creepos. The word "Tinder" in itself has become an unspeakable, grungy word that means you have given up. I admit that's why I initially re-downloaded this app for the billionth time. But there is a large chunk of the Tinder crowd that has not given up. They are clinging onto that last bit of hope like the last cookie. And through meeting those people, it's actually given me some hope. They gave me some of their cookie and... and... *tears up* I think that's so beautiful. All the lonely people have rallied together to sing We're Not Gonna Take It on the rooftops. Or from the comfort of our couches. We're on a group phone call singing it.

When it comes to swiping right, I tend to give the benefit of the doubt. There are exceptions to every rule, even the ones on my heck naw list. I swipe right more than you guys think. I'm not always a complete rhymes-with-witch. Like the previous list, this one is very catered to my personality and is guaranteed to not be of any help to you. Why am I even making these? Idk. Something to go in my future autobiography of how I became the rich, single, successful cat lady I am.

10 HECK YESES

Aminals
If they have a pet it means they know how to take care of a living thing and make sure it doesn't die. That's a pretty good quality to have if you ask me. I also like to imagine them talking in baby voices to their pet and it makes them way less intimidating.

Beneficial Occupation
I swiped someone right once because they were the manager of a Cold Stone. Silly? Yes. Genius? Also yes. Make sure their occupation is something you will be more than happy to tell people and never lie about.

BIB
An abbreviation me and a friend coined (and eventually wrote a song about) meaning Boys in Bands. Since I was in kindergarten, I always wanted a boy to sing to me like Waldo did to Darla in Little Rascals. I would draw pictures of me in the sparkly red dress and whoever I was crushing on singing to me in a tuxedo. While this scenario has yet to happen, I am swiping right on anyone with the slightest bit of musical talent until my childhood dream comes true. <3 <3 <3 Or someone that looks good in a tux, either/or.

Makes me lol
One day I am making a hall of fame of all of the funny/obnoxious/unreal tinder profiles I have seen. Already saving up screenshots for you guys, don't worry. ;) They don't need to be a stand up comedian, but if there's anything in there that makes me giggle, they just became 92384 times cuter. This is science.

Age Aprope
It's a sad reality, but it's hard to find worthwhile guys my age on Tinder. They are usually a few years younger, including some of the dates I've already told you about. I just didn't mention it because I no longer care. My age limit on Tinder is 22-29. Because 21 sounds way too young, and the fact that I am eligible to date 30 year olds is too scary and I am in denial.

Trophy Husband
They are too good looking to exist, much less be on Tinder, and little hearts come out yo eyes. The ones you overlook all the glaring red flags for just so you have a chance to gaze upon them in real life. Celebrities marry beneath them all the time, and they seem perfectly content with being the hotter one. So I feel like I could make it work.

Got Good Skills
When guys put random skills like they can stuff a high number of marshmallows into their mouth or they are an undefeated thumb wrestling champion, it tells me a few things. One, that they don't take themselves too seriously. And two, that I am definitely going to try and beat them regardless because I am relentlessly competitive.

Mutual Interests
Those little boxes at the bottom are so handy. One of my favorite interests are those old Facebook pages titled things like "being a fan," so when you liked it it'd say, "Makenzie is a fan of being a fan." Hahahaha. I still think those are funny. Why does Facebook hate fun?

Ego Boosts
I will be the first to admit that from time to time I swipe right because I am so positive we will match, even if I don't necessarily want to. It's like a game I play with myself. I suddenly turn into a guy gambling in the 1920s. *puts on a fedora and starts smoking a cigar* "This fella says he loves redheads? We'll give him a go... hotsy-totsy, a match! I'm hittin on all sixes now!"

That One Guy
Sometimes lightning strikes, and that cute guy you saw at school/church/the dentist's office but were too terrified to talk to shows up and you're like THANK YOU Tinder. It's like Pokemon Go, but for sad people. You found them and are determined to catch them in your Tinderball.

Remember, if you are giving up hope in your dating life, so is everyone else. You are not special. You just need to put your big boy pants on and do something about it. Whether that's Tinder, or asking that girl from class, or simply going outside today. Baby steps. But there are 124.6 million single people in America. If you are ultra picky like myself and that still sounds like finding a needle in a haystack, then start looking. Your future significant other is not going to show up delivered on your doorstep in a nicely wrapped package. You will find them while you are out there doing things. Live your life, put yourself out there, and good things will happen. Wow. When did I get so optimistic??? What is happening to me?

An Open Letter to Catcallers

Dear Random Greasy Teenage Boy,

It has come to my abrupt attention that you find me physically attractive. Or maybe you call all your girl friends "mama." (Which I'm assuming is the white boy version of "mami" but somehow worse??) While I am aware of how cute I am, and that others may feel the same way, there are many other ways to go about this. Not that you would have a chance in H-E-double-hockey-sticks of buying me anything off the dollar menu you can afford, but I'm sure there's someone out there who's attracted to insecurity and poor decision making skills in a prepubescent man. And when you find that rare gem, here are your options:

A) Start a conversation with them like a normal human. Introduce yourself by something other than any sound an animal can make. Tell them your name or your aspirations to be in prison one day.

B) Control your raging hormones and shut your pie hole. Go for a swim. Do you know how to do that? Did your mom teach you? Do you have a mom?

C) Think about something else, like your obvious lack of female role models. Or your small, tiny, undeveloped brain. Try and dwell on how you can fix that instead of demonstrating it openly to the world.

D) Play the quiet game with yourself, and see who wins!!

E) Eat a donut. Donuts are good. And then your mouth will be full and you won't be able to share your unwanted thoughts with anyone. Yummy, yummy donut! Yucky misogyny!

If the previous options are not working for you, do yourself a favor and remove yourself from all places where you could come in contact with a female. Living in solitary confinement is underrated. There, you will never come across the stressful situation of treating a girl as if she is an actual person. You will be able to live in your fantasy world where every woman is at your beck and call, and shouting incoherently at her will make her yours forever. You have allllll the girlfriends. And no one is flipping you off! Fantastic.

Please send this to your other underage friends as a general guide. For more information, please watch this video:

    

WEEK 3 PT. 2 // Ponytail Derek

Saturday Night: Ponytail Derek

Welcome to part 2 of this week's datescapades, credit to my girl Kayla for that new beautiful word. I honestly did not think I would learn anything from this experience. I only wanted to vent my dating frustrations and let others get a kick out of my pain. But with each new date I am learning way more about myself than I thought I would. Woah, what? Dating actually has benefits other than to torture us good, single people? I don't think Tinder is for everyone. But I highly recommend putting yourself out there, in any way/shape/form possible. If anything, you'll have some good stories to tell and will have something to do on weekends other than watch movies with your cat (Lily loves anything starring Ryan Gosling.)

Ponytail Derek is strictly describing his general aesthetic and not his personality. For those who don't know, this is a Perks of Being a Wallflower reference and the Ponytail Derek in that movie is a big jerk. This guy is not like that. He wasn't even wearing a ponytail when I met him. Lol. I will explain.

By Saturday night I had already been on 2 dates and was pretty pooped. He didn't get off work til 9, which my grandma schedule is not used to yet. I debate canceling, but for my adoring fans and personal self-loathing, I meet up for our pre-planned date. The first thing I noticed about Ponytail Derek was how tall he was. He wasn't one of those guys who put his height in his Tinder profile so I had zero expectations and was pleasantly surprised. For all the meninists (why are you here) thinking I am soooooo shallow for even considering height and wah wah wah, please have a seat. There is a proportional amount of men that prefer women to be shorter as there are women who prefer men be taller. The others who don't care still find love and seem very happy. That is super duper cool. But I LIKE TALL GUYS. Whoopty-freaking-doo.

#sorrynotsorry

The second thing I notice is his long, luxurious hair. I am tempted to ask what shampoo he uses but I'll save that for another time. This is also the first guy that is just as chatty as I am, so our conversation is flowing very smoothly. I don't even remember what we talked about at first, but I know there weren't any awkward silences. We were eating at Sonic, and I had a bomb milkshake, so I was very happy. The Sonic in Provo is near this walkway that curves around the river that he suggests we explore. It isn't well lit, but we walk surprisingly far with someone of my low stamina and disinterest in physical activities. My constant talking distracts me from the darkness and possible dead bodies in the water. We pass under a bridge where homeless people definitely sleep and joke about moving in. Maybe this is where Prince lives? I look around, but with no sign of him I continue our night stroll.

After our walk we decide to drive over to a park (AGAIN, he could have murdered me by the river and didn't, so my chances are pretty good). This is where I find out he has to have his hair in a ponytail for work, and the name Ponytail Derek just stuck in my brain. This is also where our deep conversations begin. By deep, I mean we talk about philosophy and our beliefs instead of what our favorite flavor toothpaste is. I find out he isn't an active LDS member but he says he still believes in the core values. I can work with this. By that I mean I am not disregarding him off the bat because of his status in the church. The dating I'm doing right now isn't supposed to be super serious anyways... Because I am a carefree spirit who overanalyzes nothing. :D

Anyways.

So we are sitting on the park bench and he has his arm around me and I feel like we could be in just about any indie movie. He half-joked about jumping the gate into the nearby waterpark so it fits. Play the soundtrack from 500 Days of Summer and BOOM, a Sundance Film Festival hit.

Since I have obviously already stalked him on the internet, I knew he was a musician. He mentions he has a show coming up and I jump at the opportunity to be a groupie. There's something about boys in bands that I am insanely attracted to... which is why I am single and on Tinder! I tell him I want to watch him play and he seems totally fine with it. Buuuuut you know how this works, that experience will be discussed next week. Ugh.

I get home around 1:30, which is extremely late for me even on a weekend. But he texts me asking if I made it home safe, which is sups adorbs. 5 stars. Okay, does anyone else wish we could rate Tinder dates and leave reviews? It'd be so much easier.

"Asked me to marry him first date. 2 stars."
"Opened my door for me, but his car smelled like feet. 1 star."
"Called me the wrong name and said it was because I looked like his ex. 0 stars."

Who knows someone that works for Tinder? I need to speak to them immediately.

You guys are in for a treat because I'll be posting Part 2 of my Art of Tindering series on Saturday! Part 1 was a pretty big hit. I noticed the more mean my posts are the more popular they are... so... ya'll asked for it. Here comes the sass.