Parade of Nations

With this new round of dating, I am becoming more picky.  My minimum requirements have increased and I am less willing to budge on them.  I was feeling bad about it for a few days, but then I decided there is nothing wrong with it.  So, minimum requirements:

  • A good job that most likely comes with a certain income level.  Think: doctors, lawyers, executives, businessmen, engineers, etc.
  • A positive attitude.
  • Educated.
  • Financially stable.  With enough of a cushion that car trouble or some unexpected expense doesn’t put them over the edge.
  • Mentally stable.  I MEAN IT.

This was a busy dating week…three first dates in one week.  Whew.  Interestingly, each of the three first dates I had this week are from different countries.  Also, they are all successful, smart, and kind.  What a week!

I feel like the United Nations.  Or, more appropriately, the Parade of Nations.  (Olympics reference, y’all!)  I mean this in the best way possible!  Before I met The Poet, a close friend told me she thinks I need to be with someone born outside the United States.  The fact that all these guys moved as children or adults to the States was purely a pleasant coincidence.

I’m running out of nicknames for these people, but I don’t want to call them by their nationality lest they be identifiable.  So I won’t be explaining their initials in any posts going forward.

For now, I will just say that all three met, even exceeded, minimum requirements and ALL are second date material.


The Poet Post-Mortem

One of the most amazing aspects of my new job is that I get to travel to the place I have been most fascinated with my entire life.  I recently had my first trip there, which lasted 18 days.  Leading up to the trip, things with The Poet were going really well.  We were getting pretty serious and were opening up to each other more and more.  In the days before the trip, we discussed how much we were going to miss each other and made plans to talk by Skype and email regularly.  He took me to the airport and stayed with me until the last possible minute before I had to go through security.  All signs pointed to good things.

<Cut to day 5 of my trip.>

Around day 5 of my trip, I became concerned because I really hadn’t heard from The Poet except for his acknowledgement of my safe arrival.  Here and there he had “liked” a status on Facebook, but no actual emails and no Skype attempts.  In fact, he still hadn’t accepted the pending request on Skype.

<Cut to day 10 of my trip.>

By now I realized that something was up.  I had only one email from him at this point, and he didn’t really even mention missing me.  It was mostly all about how busy and overwhelmed he was.  Knowing that he struggles with depression and anxiety, I let it go, thinking to myself, “He is just focusing while I am gone so we can spend time together when I get back.”

<Cut to day 17 of my trip.>

I emailed him to remind him of my arrival the next night.  By this time, I had a total of 5 emails from him and two Facebook chats the whole time I was gone.  His response was that he would try to come pick me up if he could, but that he had plans.  I told him not to worry about it since I would be so tired anyway.  He didn’t argue at all and didn’t mention anything about getting together after I got home.

<Two days after my return.>

At this point, I definitely knew something was different.  I had been back in the country for two days.  My roommates and friends were clamoring to see me and spend time with me.  My boyfriend, on the other hand, didn’t seem to care that I was only 4 miles away instead of thousands.

On day 3, I received the text message that ended it all.  That’s right.  A text.  From a 41 year old.  Breaking up with me.

To be fair, he does have a lot going on.  The whole breakup was amicable and I’m not even mad at him.  Just sad.  I gave myself two days to feel sorry for myself, then picked up and began moving on.  It may seem as though I am cold hearted, or like I didn’t like him as much as I claimed, but I assure you that is not the case.  I just don’t see a point in feeling sorry for myself or dwelling on it.  I have to move my life forward.  So that is what I am doing.

I keep hearing from him and I know he misses me even though he doesn’t feel like he can give to a relationship now.  I don’t necessarily rule him out for the future, although he would need to make a pretty strong case.  As I told him, however, I can’t wait around on his back burner indefinitely.  If he should change his mind in the future, he can see if I’m still free.  I may be.  But then again, I may not.

Onto dating again.

Without me

Guess who’s back, back again.

Junkie’s back.

Tell your friends.

Guess who’s back, guess who’s back, guess who’s back, guess who’s back, guess who’s back, guess who’s back, guess who’s back

Na na na.


Thought you had heard the last from me?  So did I.  Alas, it’s over with The Poet, so I’m back to share horror stories (and hopefully some good ones too) about dating.  This will be a big week with lots of posts- I’ll fill you in on the end of the Poet, and then I have 3 dates lined up already in addition to a story from the weekend about Mr. Perfect.

Former Relationship Junkie is back online y’all.  Tell your friends, grab a glass of wine, and enjoy my life.  🙂