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!