The Day the Universe Mocked Me (most recently, because it happens on a regular basis)

I knew less than two minutes into my Saturday morning kickboxing/tae kwon do class that not drinking more than a few sips of coffee before was a bad decision. Not just bad. Titanically bad. As bad as someone rubbing bacon fat all over themselves before hiking in grizzly bear country. The kind of epically bad decision that makes people scratch their heads and go 'What the...?! How does *that* happen?'

I can't really function without a full cup of Joe in the morning. If I don't bathe my synapses in coffee, my brain continues to doze in its semi-comatose state, while the rest of me is not firing on all cylinders. I'm all cattywampus, struggling to focus and stay in the present. This, of course, is the exact moment when the Universe will choose to mock me with something from my recent past I'd rather conveniently forget. The Universe can be a merciless bitch, barely tolerable with lots of coffee, and simply insufferable without.

I had trouble executing routine basic drills I've been doing since I started kickboxing six years ago. Then the class focused on a difficult kick that requires excellent flexibility if you want to really look good doing it. There's not enough coffee at all the Starbucks in Seattle that could get me to do that kick well. And on a day I hadn't had more than a eyedropper of coffee, there was no way I was going to be able to do a decent kick.  So naturally this is the moment I notice him, not more than four feet away from me. He's a bystander, waiting for class to be over so he can take his kid home, and a guy I went out with once.

It was a perfectly nice first date. There was nothing of the ridiculous that often makes an appearance at many of my first dates. It was easy to talk with him because we had a lot in common, and culturally he felt familiar--part of the NPR tribe. He seemed like someone with whom I could have developed a friendship, and perhaps a relationship. A few days later, he texted me saying he hoped we could go out again after I got back from a short trip. And I would have gone out with him again, except that about the same time, I ended up going on a first date with a guy I liked better -- the guy who is now my boyfriend. Instead of texting "Perfectly Nice" that, except for bad timing, I *would* have gone out with him again, I didn't text him at all. I didn't know how to make 'I had a nice time with you, but I don't want to go out with you again, because I had a better time with someone else' sound like less of a rejection, and more of an explanation along the lines of 'Oops! You're a nice guy -- it's just bad timing.'

So, there I am, bumbling through a series of difficult kicks without the benefit of being caffeinated, when I start panicking that Perfectly Nice might recognize me. I am in full-on Kubler-Ross Five Stages of Grief mode. My first thoughts are all denial:

No, that's not him. He doesn't even live in this part of town. And I'm not wearing any makeup, so if it is him, he won't recognize me anyway.

Then, when I can't deny that it's definitely him, I turn to anger:

Why did I have to go out with so many guys? Didn't I realize I was bound to run into one of them some day? Why am I so picky? I am a whore! A first-date whore! See what happens when you're too lazy to get up and make coffee for yourself?! 

Then right on cue comes the pitiful bargaining:

Universe, I will NEVER ignore a text or go out into the world uncaffeinated again, if you just spare me from locking eyes with him. Please, let me get through this without an awkward interaction with him, and I pledge I will be a BETTER PERSON from now on!

When the bargaining becomes too pitiful and annoying, I move on to depression:

There's nothing I can do. I'm just stuck in this uncomfortable place until I've done 500 of these damn kicks that I will never be able to do properly, much less with elegance. I don't care. Nothing matters anymore. 

And finally, blessed acceptance:

It is what it is. I am not a bad person. I don't have to say 'yes' all the time. Feeling awkward is part of the human condition. I need coffee to function. Soon I'll be in the comforting embrace of my beloved coffee again.

Searching for that Perfect Calvin Klein Dress in my Size

What the...? You scared the shit out of me! What are you doing here? Can't you see this blog has been abandoned?!

Well, not just yet. Hello Faithful Readers. I'm back from my unplanned, well needed hiatus. Try as I might, I could not quit you. I think I still have embarrassing things to share with you. That's a well that will *never* run dry -- the well of romantic humiliations and missteps. Please continue to slake your thirst. My cup runneth over.

A few weeks before Halloween, my daughter and I went thrift-storing for costumes. While I was pawing through the racks looking for a dress suitable for a 1970s Cher costume, I was struck by the thought that thrift-store shopping might be the *perfect* way to explain online dating. Now, I realize that every other blog post I write seems to contain a new disparaging comparison to online dating. But those comparisons to Dante's Inferno and cable tv (among others) really only apply to the negative aspects of online dating, whereas a comparison to thrift-store shopping fits the *overall* experience of online dating, not just the *worst* aspects of it.

At a very fundamental level, thrift stores and dating websites are places people go to acquire other people's rejects. When confronted with the idea of shopping at a thrift store, people sometimes think, 'No way am I doing that. I'm not the kind of person who shops at a place like that.' But a friend who scored something nice at a thrift store for a dollar might lure you into giving it a try. Likewise that friend who scored someone nice online.

In thrift stores and on dating websites, the garish and outlandish often catch your eye first. Thrift stores are an excellent source for wild colorful costumes, in the same way that dating websites are a wellspring of crazy characters who make it easy to write blog posts about the horrors of online dating. But the real trick is finding something that integrates seamlessly into your regular wardrobe, your daily life.

Dating websites and thrift stores have a similar tradeoff between cash versus time. It doesn't cost much to put up a dating profile (often they're free), but it's as time consuming to go through every message you receive and view every profile of those who've contacted you as it is to patiently go through the thrift-store racks piece by piece. You have to have the patience of Job to look through rack after rack of other people's rejected clothes -- clothes that are too worn or outdated or stained or plain just don't appeal. Sometimes you lose faith that there is anything of interest for you and you just walk out discouraged and empty handed. But every once in a while, the Universe blows you a hot kiss, and you discover that perfect mint condition Calvin Klein dress in your size! You think, 'How is it possible that something so nice ends up here?' Yet it does -- a brilliant gem hidden among all the quietly boring or garishly hideous clothes occupying the racks.