Tag Archives: Dating

How Krista Got Her Groove Back

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18

I don’t know if I ever even had a “groove” to lose to begin with, but hold the phone! I’ve got one now.

I’ve never been one of those girls. You know. The ones at the gym whose hair stays in place even after pounding the treadmill for an hour. (What kind of a person can even pound a treadmill for an hour?!) The ones who don’t sweat, who look cute, and bounce around the weight room doing absolutely nothing but collecting stares from the menfolk and standing by the water fountain. No. I’ve never been one of those.

I’m more the holey pajama wearing, sweat-dripping, lung-heaving, working-my-butt-off (if I’m lucky) type who doesn’t wear makeup and whose hair rivals Medusa by the time it’s all over. Let me tell you, I’m hot.

Last night was no different. But for better, or worse, that’s where this story begins. Do you have the visual? Okay. Here it goes.

So I had just finished 100 squats and 100 lateral shoulder raises and had made my way through half of my 100 lunges and 100 shoulder presses (Yeah. I’m a rock star. Let it be known.) when a guy came around the track and almost ran into me. He looked at me. And Iiiiii avoided eye-contact. Technically I was getting a little too close to the inner lane. But I couldn’t be bothered with such trivial details! I was, after all, lunging and keeping my balance and counting all at the same time (talent people. talent.). So I kept my eyes straight ahead and off he went, sprinting around the track. I finished my lunges and shoulder presses and laid down on the mat to do abs.

He arrived back to the stretching area as I was beginning my second set of crunches. With my knees in the air, red faced, sweaty, and huffing out each count, all I needed was stirrups and I looked like I was practicing for child birth. And yet, between count 8 and 9, here’s this guy standing over me asking what time the gym closed. Seriously? Do you not see me counting? (I didn’t say that out loud.) “In an hour. 11 p.m.”

I finished my crunches and began stretching. I could see him out of the corner of my eye writing on a torn piece of paper, using the weight bench as a table, and honest-to-goodness, my first thought was, Oh gosh. He’s like a trainer or something and wants to help me reduce the size of my backside. Cuz really, let’s be honest. My backside could be smaller. And of course that would be the first thing anyone would think of me if they saw me at the gym. That or, poor girl, she looks like she’s going to pass out. And seriously, he was way strong and muscle-y and looked like a trainer and was bouncing around the track like he was going to run a marathon right then and there. My second thought was, Krista, you’re an idiot.

I kept stretching. He gathered his bag and as I was leaning into downward dog he came up to me, said, “Sorry, I’m in a bit of a hurry, but here,” handed me the piece of paper, and jogged off. My third thought was, he probably just wants to tell me I’m doing great, to keep it up, and someday I’ll have the body I’ve always wished for.

I opened up the wrinkled page. And I’m not kidding … in fact here’s proof. It read:

For real? Stuff like that does not happen to me. I’m not “that” girl.

But let me just tell you. I smiled through my entire run. I couldn’t help it. And I never smile when I run; I mostly look like I want to kill someone. But he seriously made my night. My life!

There was some serious swagger followin’ me around as I walked out of the gym last night. In fact–I can’t seem to shake it.

That little note is now pinned to my bulletin board to remind me–I am that girl. The one who gets hit on at the gym (the gym! me!). I’m the girl who is cute enough. The one who is enough, period.

Groove? Oh yeah. Check & check.

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The eHarmony low-down, 411, dealio, scoop, or whatever you want to call it

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So here’s how it works. You give them your email and your name and your height and your location and your gender and then you take this really really long test. You answer questions about your talents and your decision making ability (or lack thereof). You answer questions about how you deal, or don’t deal, with conflict. You answer questions about your life and your views and your ideals and your hopes. It takes forever. But then again, I was always the one who flipped straight to the quizzes in Teen magazine to find out, scientifically of course, what shade of lip gloss my personality is (frosted coconut), which kissing style I am (soft and sweet with a side of sass), which Saved By the Bell character I’m most like (Jessie, always Jessie. Ugh. After that, I began “cheating” so I could be Kelly.), and how to tell if “he” really likes me (And he never did. I was always the “friend.”), so I actually thought the eHarmony inquisition was pretty fun.

After you finish the test, which is supposed to “read” your personality and ultimately match you up (scientifically of course) with others of a “compatible” personality, you fill out your profile. Here you post your pictures and answer questions about what you’re most passionate about, what your best life skills are, the five things you can’t live without, the last book you read, who you admire or look up to, and basically try to present yourself to your matches so that they can get to know a little bit about you and decide if you’re someone they want to communicate with.

If they don’t–they “close” you. And honestly, the first few times I was “closed” it almost broke my heart. I felt like I was being broken up with for no reason. I mean, what was it about my profile that they saw and automatically didn’t like? I’m a likable girl right? I’m smart and successful and interesting, right? And I know I’m not the most gorgeous girl on the planet, but I’ve got some attractive features, right? Anyways. It stung a little the first few times. But then I had to close some of the matches I received myself and I didn’t feel so bad about it after that. :)

My goal in signing up for eHarmony was never marriage. If that came as a result … sweet. But no, my only purpose was to date. Just date. Anyone and everyone I could. It’s been a while for me so I figured what the heck. Why not hop online for a spell? What’s the worst that could happen?

Over the course of the two months I was on, I was probably delivered about 400 matches. At first I was hesitant to initiate communication. I’m old-school like that. I want the guy to step up and decide he wants to talk to me. But one day Frit was browsing my matches with me and told me to just do it. “If you’re going to pay as much as you’re paying for this, you better get the most out of it,” were her exact words. And so I did. I began sending communication requests to any guy that remotely seemed like a good fit and even to some that didn’t. I tried, not to lower my standards, but to give guys that I wouldn’t normally have thought I might be interested in a chance. Of the 400 matches I probably initiated communication with nearly 75 guys. I personally closed, or was closed by about 300. And then there were probably 25 or 30 who initiated communication with me.

Of those 100 or so matches I communicated with, all of them fizzled out either during the “guided communication” that eHarmony sets up (series of multiple choices questions, lists of must-haves & can’t stands, and short answer questions) or once we began emailing. I never went on one date. But lest you think all is lost. It is not.

My eHarmony experience got me in the “dating mindset” again. It taught me that there are good guys still out there (In fact I might still be talking with one of them. And by might, I mean I am.). And it certainly reminded me how hard it is to click with someone. I mean seriously, it is an honest-to-goodness miracle when two people meet, click, begin dating, become serious, get past all the “stuff” they each bring to the relationship, and actually get married. A miracle. But like I said. I’m thinking about dating again … after a really long hiatus. So despite my nervousness about doing the “online thing” … I’m really grateful I did it.

And there you have it. For all your inquiring minds. I really do love y’all and I so appreciate your care and concern over this matter in my life. You’ve supported me through everything that’s changed in my life lately, and since a lot of you have asked how it’s been going, I wanted to share a bit.

xo

Krista

Looks Like It’s Your Lucky Day

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See, here’s the thing. I don’t like to talk about dating. Partly because I don’t know what to say about it. But mostly because it’s difficult. It’s like walking a tight rope. If you wobble or bobble and say the wrong thing you fall on one of two sides: a) the side where you’re viewed as whiny and desperate and unsatisfied with your life because you don’t have “someone” or b) the side where you’re overly “fine” with your “situation” and don’t appear to even need that “someone”. And both, are dangerous.

Having said that, I need to explain some things about my perspective, which is LDS (Mormon). Most people who are not LDS would say that “30 and unmarried” isn’t that big of a deal–that there’s plenty of time. But the thing is, being “30 and unmarried” in the LDS faith is a bit of an anomaly. Most Mormons marry in their early 20′s and begin families soon thereafter. And while that trend is shifting to where people are now marrying at slightly older ages, it still doesn’t negate the emphasis our faith puts on the importance of family, regardless of age.

We believe–I believe– that the family is central to our Heavenly Father’s plan of happiness for us, His children. We believe that the greatest joys in life are to be found within the walls of our own homes. I know that to be true. And therein lies the foundation of my greatest wants.

And yet, beyond these matters of faith, there are also just the simple feelings of a girl’s heart–a hopeless romantic girl’s heart who wishes for someone to hold hands with and dance with late at night after all the dishes are done. Who wants to pack her love’s lunch every morning and iron his shirts every afternoon. Who wants to have dinner waiting, along side a big fat kiss. Who wants evening walks and quiet talks right before she tucks her perpetually frozen feet in between his warm ones under the covers. Who wants Cherrios ground into the carpet and permanent marker on the walls. (And if anyone tells me I’m living in a dreamland, leave now please. You’re not invited to read this blog anymore. I’m serious.) This girl has kept these feelings locked up tight for a while now, because it’s too hard to feel them. It’s just easier to avoid them and dive head first into the life I’ve been given, than to allow them to permeate the hours of daylight. It’s easier to say, “it’s fine. I’m happy. I love my life. What great things can I accomplish while I have this time?”

But that’s the thing…I really am fine. I am happy. I do love my life and want to do all I can to acheive great things. And I am–acheiving great things, that is. I’m on that tightrope, as we speak, feeling all of it at the same time–being “fine” but knowing there’s more, loving my life for all that it is but seeing what it still lacks, working hard to accomplish great things while knowing the greatest achievement I could ever attain is that of being a wife and mother.

Oh wow. I just re-read everything I just wrote. It’ll be your lucky day if I actually push “Publish Post.”

And so. I don’t talk about it. Because I don’t know what to say. And because it’s difficult and I don’t know how to walk the tightrope in public.

***
as always, please don’t leave any stupid comments.
and no, I still don’t want to talk about it.

A Step in the Right Direction? I don’t know. The jury’s still out.

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So I did it. I paid for eHarmony.

It was impulsive and reckless–which is how I think most normal people sign up for these sites. It’s late at night. You’ve just finished watching a Jane Austen movie and in a fit of longing for a man (preferably with an English accent) to sweep you off your feet and fall madly in love with you, you find yourself actually thinking, “This might be a good idea. I mean where else am I going to meet someone?”

I’m not saying that’s what happened to me. I’m just saying…I imagine that’s how it might could possibly happen for someone else. Or something along those lines. Maybe.

So it’s been three days and can I just say…it’s miserable. Every anxiety, fear, and insecurity has come bubbling to the surface as though I was a 10th grader facing the lunchroom wondering what table is acceptable for me to sit at.

I can’t believe I actually paid money for this.

*as a reminder: don’t leave any stupid comments about dating, being single at 30, how you understand, how you got married later (at the ripe old age of 26) and that it will all work out, how God has someone wonderful waiting, how God needs me for something special in the meantime, etc. “Stupid” being the operative word here. And if we meet in person, no. I don’t want to talk about this.