Cocoon

I used to have this shell that I carried around for most of my adult life.

I don't know why I decided to distinguish lines in my persona amongst different people, but I did. I had a semi-conservative version of myself, and then there was the real Kate. My other persona made me become constantly mistaken as being shy or reserved, I was always offend when that comment somehow made its way back to me.

Me? Shy? GTFOH.

In hindsight I think I was a bit of a snob, refusing to exert extra energy on anyone and everyone that wasn't already worthy of my time. Yeah. When I say it like that I was definitely a snob. Ok, guilty. Knowing is half the battle and I've since grown up.

The beauty of my journey since 2012 is that I no longer carry a shell. So whatever you see here, this is me. 

Actually—instead of a shell, lets just say I emerged from my cocoon, like a butterfly. CORNY AS FUCK, but it works. *winking emoticon here*

This is how you will meet me

It would be my pleasure to meet you at random get together. You just happen to be there, as a guest of a friend of a friend (of a friend). Whatever the connection is, it doesn't matter to me, cause finally—the universe has served you up, and there you are… on a platter.

I will shake your hand firmly and make excellent eye-contact. I will smile the moment I realize just how good-looking you are. I will repeat your name as if it were a question, cause I'm fucking terrible with names. But I'll remember yours. Trust me, I will act as if I forgot, but I didn't.

You will use my name every time you try to engage me in the conversation. I appreciate this, because I desperately need confirmation that you know who I am. Eventually I will need to refill my drink and you will follow suit, not immediately, but soon enough. 

You will call me out on absolutely any weak point I have as far as my interests go. I have a soft spot for men who insult and compliment me at the same time, and that type of shit just works for you. BINGO. You hit the jackpot. Ultimately you will learn more about me and your insults will get more personal, I will have nothing to do but retaliate in a high-school-fashion by hitting you repeatedly on your forearms.

Yes. Kate flirting = hitting. Typical weak ass game, I know. Shut up.

At this point, anyone who even remotely knows me will be aware of just how much I am feelin' you. Don't be a pussy and please realize this. I can only smile so large and laugh so hard before I allow myself to appear way too thirsty. I have an internal alarm for thirsty behavior. I have too much pride.

The night will wind down and by this time I will know what brought you to NYC, your top five desert island movies/music and your guiltiest pleasures. Throughout the night I will agree to any empty-promise-suggestions you have about us doing something that will involve our common interests, except I hope you are offering genuine ideas instead of just filling our conversations with false invitations. Cause fuck, this happens to me quite often.

I will call you out on the fact that I will probably never see you again and to prove your interest you take out your phone and add me on social media immediately. At this point I will be at least three drinks deep and less patient, so to take this further I will enter my full name + number into your contacts. We will do the typical dance of "text me, so I have your number too." 

I will text you back something completely stupid in reference to a conversation we had earlier in the evening, cause I think I am so witty and clever. I am. This is how you will remember me.

When its time to go you will give me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, only because of the whiskey, otherwise you wouldn't have the balls to do this to a girl you just met.

The next day you will text me, with the most random rebuttal to a conversation we had from last night, and you will ask me out.

…and then you will fall madly and hopelessly in fucking love with me. And you will thank your friend of a friend (of a friend) for inviting you to that one party... where you met me.

I'll thank him too.

Cheers

Exactly a year ago I landed in NY with some money in the bank and a guaranteed couch to sleep on. I had no short or long-term plans in mind, just the idea that I wanted to survive out here. I did more than that. 

I slept on the couch for two weeks before I got restless. I randomly scoured Craigslist ads and responded to the first ad I found interesting. I signed a lease and left a deposit to move in into a 7 bedroom flat in Chinatown, which was already occupied by 7 dudes. I didn't meet any of them, until I moved in. Two months after my move a full-time job offer fell into my lap. By the time I finished my online portfolio I was already given the opportunity for a freelance position, the rest followed suit.

I love the summertime, I hate the snow—knowing me, this is all given. I constantly compare every single thing to life in SF/the West Coast. There are definite pros and cons to both sides on a variety of different topics. But ask my where my loyalties remain, and I will always tell you…

I left my heart in San Francisco, but New York City is so fucking good to me. So I'll stick with you for a just a little bit longer.

Thank you, NYC. Cheers to an amazing year, and maybe another.

WHY?

I'm embarrassed to tell all of you how I am constantly on the brink of tears these days.

I'm actually crying right now while I'm typing this. I'm so fucking lonely lately that its pathetic. Every so often I allow myself a bad meal and a good cry. I'm a rock (if you haven't figured it out by now, I don't know what to tell you), but once the waterworks start I have to find a way out, so my sense of humor kicks in. Duh… COPING. MECHANISM.

Off the dome, here are a variety of reasons why I would make an excellent girlfriend, or at the very least—why I am worth a second date, in absolutely no particular order:

• We could watch porn together. I actually don't find it that degrading, despite my general stance against objectifying women. Ok, don't make me explain this further. It makes no sense.
• I can cook. No really. I do work in the kitchen. Whatever the fuck you want, I can probably make it to fruition.
• I am funny. Uhh. At least I think so. You're reading this right now aren't you? Yeah, thought so. PENIS. I'm also random, only five people will understand what I just did there.
• I yell at the TV while watching sports. If that doesn't give you a boner, then go away—don't talk to me. I know what I'm talking about too. If the defense needs to go to work, or if the dude at second base just made an error I will not remain silent. 
• I look nice when I need to. I clean up well. Hair done. Nails done. Errything did. Actually I think I'm pretty presentable 85% of the time (side note: I chose that percentage arbitrarily).
• If you still don't think I'm funny then go away, now.
• I'm fun. As long as I don't think my life is on the line with the type of activities you want to experience, I'm down. If I think I'm gonna die, then I might have to pass. Just a warning, I think I can die via various ways, such as: fixed gear bicycles, intermediate-level snow boarding and jaywalking without holding my hand.
• I am a good dancer. You want a sexy drunken lap dance? I'm sure I can accomplish that at some point. Body rolls for days, I can get low. 
• You can play video games. I absolutely, wholeheartedly, genuinely DNGAF.
• I need my own "me time." NOT. LYING. You do you, I'll do me. Find me when you're done. I'll do the same.
• I'M AWESOME.
• Lastly, we can practice how babies are made. REPEATEDLY. I enjoy this, a lot.

This all you need to know, for now… the rest will come later.

WHY AM I STILL SINGLE?

Withholding

I am not one of those girls who has a date set up and gives you the entire low down. Until you coax it out of me I will withhold his name, what he does and his photo—if I can help it. There is no need for anyone to know these details, particularly at this point.

Afterwards I will not tell you how amazing or horrible it went, unless you ask again. This is unnecessary public knowledge, because most-likely, I will never hear from homeboy again. I might have thought the evening went well, but unless he asks for date no. 2, my single opinion means nothing, and you got worked up and excited over the prospect.

I currently have Thursdays set aside for OKC dates. I'm trying for a new one every week, as long as I can manage. So far I've had three "ThursDates" in a row. My OKC has been kind of dead recently (I feel as though I've scouted the entire BK reserves) so I doubt this ThursDate will happen. I could break my streak.

Every Friday I arrive at work and I am met with the immediate question:

"How was your date?"
"It was good, we'll see if he texts me."

No details given, but they want them. They all give me the thumbs up and have grins on their faces. I just smile, they have no idea how jaded I am. I downplay my recap of the date and they're still too enthusiastic for their own good.

Let's all chill, please?

I'm not going to lie… Just because I don't expect them to text doesn't mean I wish they wouldn't. I'd love to have confirmation that it was a lovely date and the dude finds me interesting and worth some effort. But I set myself up to have no expectations, because it's easier that way. Somehow I came to believe that my jaded and distant attitude with men would spare me hurt feelings—it doesn't. I'm not invulnerable to complete rejection. 

I'm still disappointed at the end, albeit less so than your average lady. I'm super fucking pragmatic, so that helps—I just hope I don't turn completely apathetic someday.

Someone please prove me wrong. I kind of desperately need to be proven wrong. 

…any minute now...

Preach

Yesterday morning my girl at work and I did a weekend recap and she shared with me that received the best D she's ever gotten in life. While I congratulated her and asked her about her experience, I was also wary for her, just as she was. Cause we all know what good D can do to you.

There are random stickers posted over the LES with the phrase "Good D will imprison you." My room mates and I will cosign x a thousand, hundred, trillion.

Then I came across this article and holy fuck. I really wish I wrote this one… Really. Really.

And then I got all introspective… 

Because her last line, "…nice guys can't fuck." Well… That's pretty much my philosophy. 

I know. I Know. I KNOW.

It is becoming more and more apparent to myself and the world that I have an "asshole complex," some girls have a "daddy complex." Me? Sadly I like mother fuckin' jerks. Dicks. Assholes.

I'm not saying this because I'm proud. I'm only stating it because I know. Shit. I know. I already stated this in a previous blog, but nahhhhh it's not just their swag. Its them. I like them. 

Trust me, I already know this is a ridiculous and stupid confession. I realize this is a terrible way to be attracted to the opposite sex. But I'm not going to lie… Assholes are challenging individuals, I enjoy a good challenge. I realize I deserve Mr. Nice Guy, but good girls will always lust over the bad boys. #truth

I promise you I will try to make myself available to Mr. Nice Guy (but I'm praying to God he gives good D).

O-O-O-OKC

I'm sure you're curious what my OKC profile looks like. You're all fortunate that I think this part of my life is so fucking entertaining. Everyone within a 5 desk radius of me gets updates at work. I craft responses to messages while two or three people are behind me. I screen-cap errythang.

Cause I'm a good sport I don't mind sharing this shit, here you go. A few notes first:

1. I realize my hair isn't as long as this main profile photo depicts. It was taken July 2012. I don't think I really look that different though. Plus, its a good picture. I also have three other photos: A. Full-body shot in front of the BK Bridge, B. Full-body shot in front of SF City Hall, C. Close-up w/ glasses.
    
2. I had "orgasms" listed under "six things I can't live without." Its fucking true. I can't live without orgasms, however… I was getting the wrong type of guys messaging me. So I switched it to "sarcasm."
    
3. I took a look at my "competition" as far as my fellow females in Brooklyn go. I hate this city sometimes, there are attractive people everywhere and there are much more women than men. We outnumber the motherfuckers, easily. Fact, there are so much more attractive women than men. #thestruggleisreal

Settle

Insomnia is the antithesis of my writers block. I always see the sunny side of things, hah. I am publishing this one at 4:30 am.

---

Have I mentioned that I speak with ex-Mr pretty regularly? Hah. Well I do. Despite it all, I'm on good terms with him, because I choose to be. BTW, he's a huge fan of this blog. No lie.

Recently we had a conversation on how men treat me terribly, and he responded accordingly: "They don't deserve you. Shit. I didn't deserve you." Aww, thanks ex-Mr, shucks. When it all came down to letting me go, he couldn't fight any longer, he knew he didn't deserve me. It was a matter of coming to terms with his inability to be a good husband and giving me the freedom to find someone out there to do a better job. At least thats what he told me, I'm just realizing this now. Hindsight is 20/20.

Basically—he set me free to get what I deserve, cause he couldn't provide it. How he manages to be a better man for a woman after me, I'll never understand, but that's opening up a can of worms that doesn't need to be consumed. Anyways, that's me digressing...

I realized I am miles away from getting what I deserve these days. I just settle.

I settle for guys with girlfriends flirting with me, just because I like the attention and its about all I can get right now. I settle for last-minute invitations for dates, even though my pride hates it. I settle for sex, instead of making love—who knows when I'll actually do that again. I settle for cuddles or hand-holding any time I can get it, just to hold myself over. I settle for OKCupid, although I would much rather prefer to meet someone organically.

I am so tired of settling.

Everything & Nothing

Hello again, insomnia. You're not welcome here, but fuck… I guess you plan on sticking around. I hope this doesn't become a habit of yours.

---

I read the best piece on Thought Catalog I've read in a minute. I resonate with it so much that I pretty much could've written it myself. Shit, I wish I wrote it. 

---

Everyone asks what I want.

I realize where I am, how long I have decided to stick around, and that I am still fairly fresh out of a decade+ relationship… so I give you all the expected answer: "I'm just having fun. I'm not really looking for anything serious. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah. Blah."

No. Fuck all of that nonsense.

I need to stop lying to myself/everyone.

I require something real and I have no clue how to obtain it.

Sure, I'll tell you about my latest sexual encounter, the men that message me on OKC, and crush A, B, C or D—but that's all surface. I enjoy sharing parts of my life and that's what its limited to right now, but thats not what I want.

Like the link above mentioned (you should click it, go ahead and take a minute), "I want to do everything and nothing with you at the same time." 

I want to go to dinner at Per Se and then spend the next morning eating spam, eggs and rice. I want nights where we feel like we're never coming home and days where we never leave one of our apartments. I want you to think I am the sexiest/baddest bitch alive, even though just farted in front of you a minute ago. 

I want to make you laugh moments before you finally drift off into sleep. I want to mumble "10 more minutes" every time you try to wake me up in the morning. I want your face to light up when I see you after a long day, and vice versa. I want to fight you for space on the bed then end up spooning, so what does it really matter.

I want everything beautiful you could possibly conceive in a relationship with all the amazing details you've never imagined either.

Everything and nothing, thats what I want.

Undercover Shallow

So online dating is funny, it reminded me...

Hi, my name is Kate and I'm undercover shallow/vain. Have we met yet? Allow me to introduce you to this aspect of myself. 

Its kind of an ugly side, but I'm human so I'll admit it. Don't get me wrong, I'm a sweetheart—I'll fucking give you cavities. HOWEVER… I like beautiful objects / work / people. In my defense, I'm a designer. I place a high value on aesthetics, even down to the everyday necessities I purchase. I "like things a certain way."

OKC is showing me just how shallow I can be. Thanks for the reality check, OKC!

The majority of my OKC browsing is done on my phone. It's basically Tinder 2.0 this way. You can still do a majority of the regular website features via mobile, but BECAUSE I AM LAZY I have personally decided to use OKC through it's swiping user experience, just like Tinder. Its still an improved user-interface in comparison, because unlike Tinder after a match I can learn a lot more about a dude before I choose to message him or respond.

The "Kate train of thought" goes like this:

1. After getting a message after a "match" I go straight to their height listed. If their height meets my requirements (5'8"+), I go ahead and move onto the rest of their profile. 
2. I check to see if we happen to have anything in common or if I find them funny.
3. If they originally messaged me and passed the two first roadblocks I will respond. I will initiate if I think they are particularly good looking, because they have the following characteristics:

• side-part, comb-over haircut (I don't know how many times I have to say that this particular haircut gives me lady-boners, but it does, time and time again)
• tattoos peeking through shirts on forearms  
• thick-rimmed eyeglasses 
• brunettes (extra points if they look mixed/hapa)
• good amount of well-kept facial hair
• steeze

Yes, I completely have a "type"—ask my girls, ask anyone who has had to wingman me. I'm sure they can tell you from a photo alone. 

I like them hip as fuck. I like them in clothes that fit well. I like them tatted. I like their hair kept in check. I like them on the thinner side, with a good jawline. I like them tall.

Don't get me wrong. I don't base my entire online dating experience on looks alone, but hey… unless I find you attractive it doesn't matter if OKC tells us we're a 95% match, cause you need to look good, standing next to me. I have high standards, and you gotta match my level. #sorrynotsorry

Insomnia

I usually sleep extremely well. Under normal conditions I have no trouble falling and staying asleep (for a very long time).

Lately tho?

Its not the same. I go to bed way too late (because of my inability to fall asleep at an appropriate time) and I'm woken up in the middle of the night or extremely early in the am by a restless mind.

I'll chalk it up to this fact and I'll admit it out loud:

I'm lonely. There, I said it.

I'm tired of waking up in my bed alone. I'm tired of passing restaurants and saving them in my mental list to "try someday." I'm tired of accepting attention from unavailable men, knowing very well that they go home to someone else and take their girlfriends on dates/vacations. I'm tired of being used for instant gratification, when in reality I should be cared for—long-term. I'm tired of the fact that at the end of the day there is no one to kiss or simply text good night, be the big spoon, or just ask me how I am doing.

I'm. Just. Tired.

I try to give myself pep talks all the time… "maybe the timing isn't right," "maybe you're still meant to grow a bit more by yourself," "maybe 'he' will come around tomorrow." But I can only do so much to keep myself appeased.

I place a very high value on myself as far as being a significant other. Its disappointing when you haven't come across anyone else who wants to show any interest that way.

Wamp wamp. Fuck you, tiny violins. Go away.

OKC

Prior to tonight the only time you would ever hear me say "OKC" is in reference to the Oklahoma City Thunder. But since I've been told by numerous people that I need to physically insert my ass into the dating pool of NYC I signed up for OKCupid (again, I did it once and I lasted 3 days before I deleted that shit).

I stand by the fact that I expect to turn a corner and have Mr. Man of my Daydreams bump into me and fall madly in love with my looks/charm/humor/all-around-persona. BUT obviously my life is not a RomCom and I have to take matters into my own hands. SO FINE, I listened—and once again I am terrified of this online dating shit. 

Anyways here is my first (second) impression:

• How come everyone I'm clicking is in Brooklyn and has a beard?
• Fuck, this dude looks hairy. I don't know if I can handle that.
• Pass. 
• Pass.
• Pass.
• He has ONE good photo, his others are wack. Dammit, I fell for the bait.
• I only clicked this one cause I like his haircut.
• I'm pretty sure this one doesn't get a haircut on a regular basis.
• I don't like the way his clothes fit.
• What the fuck does that quote on his profile mean? Sorry… Hella deep.
• Investment banker? NOPE. No, not doing that again. 
• I'm pretty sure this guy has no idea who Schoolboy Q is.
• This guy is good-looking, we probably have nothing in common. *Clicks anyway*
• WHY? Why did I do this again?

And then I logged out, disappointed.

Its not that I have high expectations for OKC, I actually have none. Zero, promise. I just don't want to dedicate any further time to something I am so skeptical about. For a girl who sees herself as pretty optimistic, I have no faith in online dating.

But who knows… maybe my profile can just sit there and a message from someone interesting will magically appear. I DOUBT THAT. But like I said… here is *me inserting my ass into the dating pool of NYC.*

Fuck. Wish me luck.