Category Archives: Mitchisms

Mitch Returns: The Mitchening.

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Like a punchy aging boxer with financial troubles Mitch has come out of blogging retirement. Why now, you ask? The people of Earth need me. Like Jesus did after his final performance, it was time to let the blog rise from the dead. Actually, there really is no good reason other than I had an itch to write that needed to be scratched.

There’s going to be some changes to the format of the blog. First, the name of the blog. Over time the old title “Mitch Being Honest” just grew old and tiresome. I tried a few new titles on for size but none I was happy with. Then, I figured if the blog is about all things Mitch why not just call it “Mitch.” Simple, clean, easy to spell and remember. If one name is good enough for Cher, then God damn it, it’s good enough for me.

Over the next few weeks there will be some cosmetic changes to the site but frankly I hate dealing with crap like that so bear with me, it could take months before you actually see these changes.

The blog will still be mainly about all things Mitch and whatever the hell else I feel like writing about. My romantic relationship will still be off limits for two reasons. 1. That relationship is only between me and my lady and should remain that way. 2. I’ve written about dating and relationships to death and I am bored with writing about those topics.

Coming soon! If there’s one thing I love, it’s wine and last weekend after a few bottles I was ranting to the GF how I hate pretentious wine reviews like this:

An intense red, showing concentrated flavors of dark plum, kirsch, dried beef and baker’s chocolate flanked by sublime notes of tobacco leaf and ginger. The powerful finish is filled with sanguine details for it’s low $125 price. Only 5000 bottles made. Best paired with smoked venison with a light walnut glaze, served with a understated caviar pate…”

Let’s face it, as a normal dude who has fully embraced his bachelorhood I am never going to eat that kind of food, let alone ever cook food like that at home. I’m more apt to make some Manwich sloppy joes with a side of canned beans than haute cuisine.

I’ve been drinking wine for years, managed a wine boutique, and have taken numerous tasting courses. At best, I can pick out three to four flavours, tops, and two scents maybe on a good day if I was downwind and my allergies weren’t bugging me.

Not to mention I have never smelled half the bullshit adjectives they mention in pretentious wine reviews. Kirsch? villagepeople-branson's best reservationsWhat the hell is kirsch? I don’t know what kirsch is but I’m pretty fucking sure I’ve never smelt that. Dried beef? I don’t care what dried beef smells like. I don’t want to know nor do I want to smell anything in my wine that sounds like the title of a lesser known innuendo laced Village People song.

As well, a $125 dollar bottle of wine is out of my pay grade so a review like this is as useful as my arts degree. So I came up with a solution. Wine reviews for normal people, who drink normal wine, with a normal price range of $10-$25ish. Simple, no bullshit wine reviews. As an added bonus I now have a rational, viable explanation for my weekend alcohol abuse AKA “blog research.”

So keep an eye out for that feature coming soon…maybe Sunday… if I’m not too hungover.

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Running in Mud

It’s been four days since Pops died. The question I most get from people is “How are you doing”, usually with an emphasis on the “you.” I assume the “you” is emphasized when I read it by text, anyways. They could be emphasizing the “how” or the “doing” for all I know, but that would make for some odd lines of questioning “HOW are you doing?” or “how are you DOING?”

I was sitting on my couch half watching a terrible, even by my forgivable rom com loving standards, rom com asking myself in my head “how am I doing, really?” when another friend texted the same question at that exact moment. I don’t know how I’m doing actually.

This morning, I woke up finally getting the first good night sleep I had in four days but the sharp headache I’ve had since Pops passed was back. Later that morning, I was on the verge of tears right before my taekwondo class for no reason other than an unspecific encompassing grief. It took all I had to summon the will to not cry and get through class. My legs felt heavy, my arms felt weak, it felt like I was trying to run in knee high mud with a one hundred pound concrete slab strapped to my chest. I wanted to quit more times than I can recall. I wanted nothing more to throw in the towel, call it a day and head home for the security of my couch and blanket. I’ve done enough martial arts in my life to know that if the mind, soul and body are not in sync, its a herculean uphill battle but its one thing to know this and another to experience this.

Later that afternoon, Little Mitch had his taekwondo yellow belt test. We already postponed his test a month ago as he was struggling with his own feelings over his Papa’s cancer. Our instructor asked me if he was still wanting to do his test today, knowing that we lost Pops this week. “Yes,” I replied, “he says he still wants to do it. Says he’s ready.” He did fantastic. That tricky turn that has been plaguing him for months, no problem, fluid, graceful. That unsure left leg kick that never quite broke the wood board these past few weeks, with intention, clean snap in two.

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Like most fathers I’m especially proud of my son’s athletic accomplishments but today I have never been prouder. If roles were reversed I would have to postpone my belt test as there would be no way I could do it with the painful raw hurt for my Dad I’m carrying in my heavy heart right now. My seven year old son showed me an example of tenacity and fortitude that I will use for those painful times that are ahead of us as we adjust to a life without Pops.

So how am I doing? My head won’t stop aching. I sleep but I don’t feel rested. I’m missing my Dad. I want to cry today, but I can’t, it’s just not there. I’m digging deep for that extra little bit I don’t have just to get through the day. I’ve got a dull pain in my chest that hurts every time I breathe. I’m numb. I’m disconnected. I’m grey. I’m tired. I’m unfocused. I’m hazy. I’m hurting. I’m holding on.

You know what I wish someone would ask me, instead of “how are you doing?” I wish someone would just once ask me “what do you want?” I would answer, I want just one more afternoon with my Pops. To finally get his chili recipe I kept forgetting to ask for. To hear him complain about his favourite hockey team. To tell him about that powder blue ’57 Chevy I saw drive by the other day. To watch my son hug his Papa one more time.

How am I doing? I’m running in mud.

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I’ll Miss You Pops.

It doesn’t feel real yet. It’s been two days. It still feels like he’s here. It was surreal when Mom called. I’m at home with some cable guy in my home when my cell rings. In a weird way, I knew what the call was before I picked up. Mom never calls me in the middle of the afternoon, ever. It was a quick phone call, she managed to tell me between pain racked sobs that Pops was gone. Like that, his long cancer battle was over. The man who was my Dad for thirty of my thirty six years was gone.

I hang up the cell. I’m numb. I’m in blank shock. I have a complete stranger in my home finishing up work on my cable internet and I just found out my Dad died. The cable guy finishes up his work. I make some lame joke about having a beer after his shift, he earned it today, and see him out the door.

I head to seven year old Little Mitch’s school. I knock on his classroom door, the teacher knows why I’m there without saying a word. Little Mitch doesn’t know why, he’s just happy to get out of math class. He asks me why he gets to go home early. I say I’ll tell him when we get home. We’re home, both of us on the couch. I tell him I have sad news. I tell my son that his Papa has died. His little face just goes blank, some tears but not many, and then I hold him for a few quiet minutes, when he asks if he can play some video games. I say yes, and he plays. He’s quiet, very quiet. Little Mitch is never quiet, he’s overwhelmed trying to process enormous feelings he can’t comprehend.

The last two days have been a blur. Hours fly by and seem to stand still. My head hurts from crying and from trying not to cry. I’m not hungry and I can’t stop eating. I feel like I can sleep and I can’t sleep. I wan’t to be alone and I don’t want to be alone. I don’t want to talk about it and all I want is to talk about it. I don’t want to be touched and all I want to do is cuddle Little Mitch.

Little Mitch is hurting. His little seven year old heart is in so much pain it makes me feel helpless as my child grieves. He goes silent and I can hear his quiet sobs and he reaches for me with open arms, his little body shaking from the tears. He says he misses Papa. I tell him I miss him too. We were both quietly watching cartoons when he says with the emotional weight of a child whose in a depth of pain he can’t comprehend “It will be different without Papa”, I asked him if he’d like to talk about it. No he says and the conversation is abruptly over by his choice. I’m sorry my son, there is nothing I can say that will make the hurt go away, just know that I am hurting too and am with you every step of this journey.

I slept terribly the night after I got the news. I’d sleep and wake up. Cry, sleep, cry, sleep, cry sleep. I’m not sure if it was a dream, or a fervent wish, or if it was real or a little bit of all three but I felt you there Pops. I honestly felt you there, you were there. I got out of bed. Went downstairs and you were sitting there. Sitting on the couch, your hair lush dark brown again, not the sickly wispy cancerous grey it was those last months. You were sitting with your arms crossed, and your leg up on your knee as you always sit. Wearing faded jeans like you always do, and a light tan brown sweater. You smiled at me as I came down the stairs, waiting for me, to say goodbye.

It felt so real, it couldn’t be a dream, Pops was there I felt it. I wake up in the middle of this, not rested, my head hurting as much as my heart, if not more. There’s a faint glimmer of hope that this is real and I head downstairs and look to the empty couch illuminated by the bleak winter morning light. The realization hits me with so much weight I feel a tinge of physical pain in my heart. My Dad is gone.

I’ll miss you every day Pops.

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I’m Back Baby! And People I Can’t Hang With.

Greetings faithful readers! No time for pleasantries, let’s get to some housecleaning. Yes, I took five months off from writing. Do I feel recharged? Yes. Am I chock full of writing ideas? No. Did the break help? Yes. Am I psyched to be blogging again? Kind of. Did I miss it? Sort of.

Yes, I do realize five months ago I “retired” from blogging but like many a professional athlete who walked away from the game there was still some stuff in the basement that needed to get out. So I’m back to writing on a “semi-occasional-whenever-the-hell-the-mood-strikes-me-without-feeling-guilty-that-I-have-to-write-sporadic-basis.” If Jesus can come back after his most famous final performance well, then so can I. You read that right, I just totally just compared myself to Jesus.

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Will I regale you once more with more comical tales of my amusing dating hijinks and absurd relationship sagas? Hell no. Two reasons. One, I’m bored of talking about that and as I said numerous times in the past Mitch Being Honest was never intended to be about dating it just kind of evolved into that. Two, I met someone quite lovely and out of respect for her and our relationship I’m keeping it out of the blog. It’s been six months and just like when a pitcher is working on a perfect game in baseball you don’t mention the pitcher is working on a perfect game lest you jinx it.

Housecleaning done, let’s get to it.

Five Random People Mitch Can No Longer Hang With.

(Disclaimer: person can come in either gender but for sake of example I may choose one gender pronoun because I am a really lazy writer).

“You know HOW bad that is for you” guy: There’s always that one person who has to mention with a mild disdain just how bad the food you are eating is for you. They always make the “where is that weird smell in my kitchen coming from” disgust face while they say this. Then they start to mention all the healthy just as delicious alternatives. Look, first off, I know how bad the food I am eating is, I’m not a moron. The fact is I just don’t care. I know your healthy food alternatives are good for me but if I wanted that I would have chose that in the first place. When I was a kid my parents said when I was an adult I could eat whatever I wanted, they may have been sarcastically saying it but God damn it, I waited all my childhood to get to that point in my life and I don’t intend to waste that victory. Now, if you’ll excuse me my Reese Pieces, BLT with double extra bacon (BBBLT? B-cubed-LT?) and Bourbon on the rocks breakfast is getting cold.

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“Sensationalist Social Cause Facebook” gal: We all have that person who bombards our Facebook feed with sensational shocking photos of abused kids/dogs/cats/people/nature and the like. Personally, I have no problem with being passionate about a cause. Just be aware that not all of us are as passionate as you are about your cause and the last thing I want to see is a graphic explicit picture you posted about your cause that causes me to lose my appetite for my breakfast Froot Loops whilst I persuse my Facebook.

 “I don’t watch TV let alone OWN a TV” guy: Fine I get it, you’re more intellectually evolved than the rest of us because you choose not to watch TV but you don’t have to be a smug bag of dicks about it. You could just say “I don’t really like TV, I prefer reading” if you say it that way it’s more diplomatic and I may be more inclined to ask you about your reading habits and look at that, we have an engaging conversation. Say it the smug bag of dicks method and I just want to throat chop you with a book about the History of Television.

 “Joggy Joggerson” gal: They went for a jog… They are going for a jog…Once on a jog…This occurred to them on a jog…let them just check their resting heart rate because you know, they jog…the ancient mayans invented jogging…this energy bar is good for their jogs…they’ll get on the Henderson account file right after their lunch jog…sore from their jog but a good sore because you know, they jog…jogging is more than exercise its a lifestyle commitment to jogging…let them just stretch at their cubicle because the hammies are tight from the jog…

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 “That’s what THEY want you to believe” guy. There always that person in our social circle who feels that some vague anonymous “THEY” are out to screw with us. They are ever vigilant for “THEY” and their grifter ways but not this person, they are onto “THEY”.

“Yeah, I got this coupon for my next oil change, $10 off”

“Whoa. Hold up. Thats what THEY want you to think.”

“What? They want me to think I’m getting $10 off? But I am getting $10 off, I’m paying $10 less than the last oil change I got there.”

“Exactly. THEY want you to think that…”

Well, it was good to get back to the blogging thing. See you soon.

-Mitch

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Coming Soon…

It’s time…the semi-retirment from blogging is ending. Stay Tuned…

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Good Luck, Goodbye.

Greetings faithful readers,

May 15, 2013 will be the exact three year anniversary of Mitch Being Honest. I have been flirting with the idea for about a year now and I have finally decided to retire Mitch Being Honest. Before you shave your heads and take vows of celibacy in protest to my shocking retirement news that I’m sure will shake the foundations of your very existence, let me lay out for you the reasons behind my decision.

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After three years of writing from the “Mitch” persona premise, I’m just downright bored with it. There’s nothing new I can do with this premise and I’ve lost a bit of that fire in the belly I had for keeping the Mitch Blog train a rollin’. It used to be fulfilling and therapeutic to fire out a blog that made me laugh, now it feels like a chore to come out with something for my readers. And the point of the blog was to always make myself laugh first and foremost, but now I feel guilty that my output is not regular. I’ve gotten away from writing to make myself laugh first, others second.

“The You Got Civilized Dilemma.”Any of my regular readers knows that Mitch is a die hard fan of Rocky film franchise. They are more than films to me, they are a philosophical way of life. In Rocky 3, Mickey at one point says to Rocky “The worst thing that can happen to you, that can happen to any fighter, you got civilized.”

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The blog was a therapeutic way for me to deal with the turmoil that was going in my life by finding the humour in the absurdity of it all. I wrote about my unstable marriage, my marriage failing, my divorce, single parenting, learning to be single, and learning to date and much more. All of those things provided me a wealth of material to draw upon and find humour in. This past year I’ve made a real concerted effort to lead a quiet, mellow existence. Definitely, an antithesis reaction to spending spending sixteen years of my life in a volatile, unhealthy emotionally charged relationship. By creating my new quiet, mellow, stable life, I killed off much of what I used the blog for and what I used to say with it. In a sense, I got civilized.

Originally, the blog was a business school project that I just kept going for myself. To date the blog has 106 Facebook followers, and 99 WordPress followers. I’ve made some friends through the blog, chatted with other bloggers and even landed a paying social media gig from blogging. Not too shabby seeing as the only real effort I put in was to make myself laugh.

I will be back to blogging someday, with a new premise and a new format but for now I need a long break.

Good luck, goodbye- Mitch.

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Return Of The Lone Wolf Phase: AKA See You In 2 Weeks.

Greeting Faithful Readers,

I have come to the realization that Mitch is suffering from a good old fashioned case of dating burnout. Being that my blog is about my take on what’s currently going on in my life, the blog has evolved into a dating blog of sorts.

I have decided to take a 2 week break from dating to recharge and regain some sense of self and faith in creating new relationships or more succinctly I’m entering another one of my semi-famous “lone wolf phases.” This break also means that I will be taking a 2 week break from blogging about dating.

See you all again in a couple weeks. -Mitch.

White-Wolf

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I’d Like To Thank The Academy…

I’ve been called a lot of things in my day, “asshole” being usually the most prominent, often employed as a verb, noun, pronoun, adjective, adverb, interjection, conjunction and prepositions and sometimes combinations of the preceding. “You assholing asshole of an asshole’s asshole you’re an asshole!”

This however, is a first. I’ve never been called “inspiring” before. I have to say I was a bit taken aback to be nominated for “The Very Inspiring Blogger Award” by How To Date In Las Vegas. Love your city by the way, been there five times.  My failed marriage started there or more accurately the downpayment on my impending divorce nine years later started at the wedding chapel in Bally’s. Anyways, enough of my masturbatory faux “aww shucks” bashfulness, let’s get to the requirements to accept my accolades.

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The rules of the award:

  1. Display the award logo on your blog.

  2. Link back to the person who nominated you.

  3. State 7 things about yourself.

  4. Nominate 15 bloggers for this award.

  5. Notify those bloggers of the nomination by linking to one of their specific posts so that they get notified by ping back.

7 Things About Mitch That Will Both Amuse and Terrify You.

-Due to a family New Year’s Eve prank during childhood that went terribly awry I have an irrational fear of lobsters.

-One of my obsessive compulsive quirks is that I cannot sit at circular tables. My OCD brain likes right angles. You can imagine the quandary sitting at a circular table would cause to my meal.

-I consider myself a cereal aficionado.

-I have a Spongebob wallet that I use as a dating litmus test. I wouldn’t want to date a woman who has an issue with me having a Spongebob wallet. It separates the wheat from the chaff so to speak.

-Mitch really likes referring to himself in the third person.

-I once had to have a “feelings meeting” at work, to make me more aware of other peoples emotions and to be more empathetic to their feelings. Seven years later still struggling with this one.

-I live my life by an arbitrary flexible hero code of rules, but make sure to have enough if, ands, or buts and loopholes to get out of said rule if it benefits me.

The Nominations

Ok next step is to nominate 15 bloggers for this award. 15? Holy shit! 15? Really? How am I supposed to find time to read 15 other blogs if I got my own blog to write? Can I just nominate 5 bloggers but make their nominations worth triple points? Like sex and drum solos, I believe in quality over quantity. I’m going to bend the rules a wee bit. I’m only nominating 5 Blogs but giving 3 three reasons why I like each blog, that’ll count for 15.

Decimawho– Reason 1. Mojave desert dry British wit. Reason 2. I envy her prolific writing output while still maintaing her poetic prose. Reason 3. I have learned so much about Lyme disease from her blog a topic I never would have learned about on my own.

Another Single Woman’s Blog. Reason 1. It’s nice to read about someone who’s out there in the dating trenches like me. 2. It’s nice to get a female perspective about life out there in the dating trenches. Reason 3. You know when they say that people who have gone through and survived traumatic events like plane crashes or natural disasters now share a bond? I feel the same way after reading about her dating mishaps and comparing them to my own.

Today I Watched A Movie. Reason 1. Clear, succinct, organized, well written movie reviews. Reason 2. Clear, succinct, organized, well written movie reviews. Reason 3. Clear, succinct, organized, well written movie reviews.

The Jiggly Bits. Reason 1. How can you not love the title of this blog? 2. Any blog that has a post called “The only Penis That Turns Me On” is totally worthy of my attention. 3. See reasons 1 and 2. 

Wonderbread is Dead. Reason 1. Nepotism. He’s my Nephew. 2. His love of wrasslin’ is equal to my own. 3. I’m super psyched that he’s going to school for film like his uncle did. 

Once again, it’s an honour just to be nominated. “Yo Adrian, I did it!” (cue man-tears)

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A Breakup Letter To Sex.

Dear Sex,

We need to talk. It’s just not working out between us. Sure, we had some good times, bad times and times in between. I just feel like we’ve been moving in separate directions this past year. I hate to say it but I feel like we’ve outgrown each other. Don’t think of this as a break up letter, think of it like written permission to each other to go our separate ways for an undetermined amount of time. Being the sort of organized fellow that I am I have compiled a list of reasons why it’s not working out between us.MonkeyReading

-It’s not you sex, it’s me. Look, I’m sure you are a lot of fun Sex. We had some good times in the past, I’ve got some fond memories. I just feel like this past year, disconnected from you. You aren’t doing it for me anymore. Don’t worry there’s no one else, I didn’t find any younger, hotter recreational activities to leave you for. I just feel like at this point in my life I’ve outgrown you and would rather be doing other things, like settling in with a good Springsteen biography, watching Walking Dead reruns, or cleaning my Guinea Pig cage. It’s not you it’s me. Trust me. (*it’s SO totally you* whispered under breath).

-You had so much potential you never lived up to Sex. Our relationship isn’t what it could/should/would (take your pick) be. Like I said, we had some good times in the past. On paper, you sound like a hell of a catch Sex. You’re good for my health, you relieve stress, you promote pair bonding, you burn calories, and you release endorphins to name but a few benefits. However, as the saying goes there is no free lunch, there was always a high price to pay, Sex. I’ve had way too many fights with partners about you Sex, with such diverse topics as

  • Arguments about frequency, not enough or too much.
  • Arguments about effort, too much or not enough from myself or partners.
  • Arguments about what acts will or will not be done.
  • Arguments about anything under the sun after we’ve had sex too early in a new relationship. If you ever want to bring someone’s baggage to the surface in a new relationship, sex them up too early. It’s a one way express ticket to their Crazy-town.

-I need my space right now Sex. After a string of mediocre dates these past few months with people I couldn’t even fake an attraction to if I tried, I haven’t even thought of you, Sex. Not once. Ever. Going out on a string of lab-ratdates with people I have zero attraction to, has made me feel like those little white lab mice that keep pushing the lever but no pellet is coming out. Where the @#$@#! is my pellet? When you keep going to the lever and pushing the button with no pellet it’s hard to keep motivated. You start asking yourself, without a payoff, what’s the point? Now, that I’ve mentally taken Sex off the dating table it’s amazing how low pressure dating has become. I never have to worry about getting laid, never have to worry about if when and how if my new dating prospect is sending signals or not, I never have to worry about sex at all. I can just go out on a date for the sake of having a time out with a lady. Plus, being that I have not been honest to God attracted to anyone in a good 11 months Sex, it all works out anyways.

-I’m not the guy you are looking for Sex. Sure, I bet out there in the world there are ladies and gentlemen who have a satisfying relationship with you, but I’m not that guy. Things just never quite worked out between us, 150px-CelsiusKelvin.svgthere was always too much bullshit between us. We could have been great together, we could have been contenders alas, I don’t think it was meant to be Sex. Don’t cry Sex, there’s no need to be melodramatic. I love you, I’m just not IN LOVE with you sex. We will still totally be friends, okay?

I’m not saying this is a break up, but let’s call this what it is. A mutual parting of the ways for an indeterminate amount of time. Who knows? Maybe, someday I will meet a special lady who has dealt with her baggage and has her crazy in check and I may want to start up again with you Sex, but right now my bullshit tolerance is roughly ten degrees below absolute zero. Until that day comes, perhaps it’s best we go our separate ways. Now, if you’ll excuse me I have a sandwich, Walking Dead rerun and a nap scheduled this afternoon that I really must get to.

Good luck, goodbye Sex.

 

-Mitch

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A word of dating advice, ladies.

Greetings faithful readers! Normally I don’t post new blogisodes back to back like this, mainly due to my writing process, but I need to get something off my chest. As I mentioned in my last blogisode I’m giving the dating world another try. There is something that is irking me and being the socially conscious sort of fellow I am (not true at all, I am the farthest thing from socially conscious, but bear with me) I have a bit of advice for the ladies I encounter in the dating world.

4415470.ashxSo ladies, you’ve gone online, found a dating website, created a profile, listed your likes/dislikes/needs/wants and your interests like long walks on the beach, margaritas at moonlight, and camping. Why does every woman list “camping” as an interest? I asked my friend Allison this. Her take on it was, “Honestly. I’d say maybe 50% -60% of women actually like camping, the rest are just listing they like camping because they think it makes them come off as easy going and not prissy, based on their assumption that all dudes like camping.” I responded with “My ex-girlfriend suggested camping once. I responded with ‘Why? Wait…are you mad at me and punishing me with camping in the dirty germ infested outdoors?’”

You’ve got your online dating profile drafted up. You’ve chosen five to ten pictures of yourself to post with your profile. The usual picture trope cliches are the four to five days of the year you look your most amazing: one of you travelling looking amazing, the one of you as a bridesmaid 4 years ago looking amazing, the one of you at your Christmas party looking amazing, the one of you with your girlfriends at a club looking amazing. Notice a trend? This is probably why when I actually meet my online prospect for a first date I get the feeling that I was sold a Lexus but a Toyota Corolla showed up.

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You’re ready to take the plunge and dive into the world of online dating….

Wait.

Are you ready? You forgot to ask yourself one important question. You forgot to ask yourself, “Do I have actual time to date?”

I’ve encountered this issue on numerous occasions. I meet a lovely lady, go on a few dates, we’d like to see each other more…then cooltext her schedule monster rears its head. Fast forward two weeks later, we haven’t seen each other at all, our faint whiff of a growing “relationship” consists of texting, mainly her more than me, I lose interest very quickly in a lady when we’re texting only, with the faint wisp of a future promise that we’ll get together just as soon as her yoga class/work project/book club/kid’s pyromania/parents visiting from out of town/her school, etcetera settles down. We’ll get together soon she says “I…promise” Mitch’s advice? Anyone who has to say “I…promise” isn’t truly authentic, just assume they won’t deliver on that empty promise. Truly authentic people deliver, they don’t have to promise.

Congratulations fellas, if you found yourself in a situation like this you just collected yourself a time vampire. They will suck up bits of your time with the faint future hint that you “may” get together someday that never truly materializes. Before we get further into this premise, let me just say that I do realize that she may not be that into me. Fine, but for the sake of this rant let’s assume she is into me and scheduling is an issue.

blog-schedulingYou have to ask yourself “Do I have some space in my life to try on new people to see how they fit in my life?” If you’re working full time, going to school part time, have limited child care options and you just signed up for a belly dancing class twice a week, maybe fitting dating into your life isn’t in the cards for you right now? Something to consider.

Ladies, I do realize that you are entitled like the rest of us to find love and cultivate relationships. All I’m saying is make sure that you have time in your life schedule to fit it in. Dating takes time, it takes time to create relationships and to get to know someone. You need some availability, I’m not saying that if I ask you out Thursday I expect you to go out Friday. I understand we all have lives, jobs, hobbies etc. However when I ask you out it shouldn’t be as difficult as trying to do my taxes with pen, paper and an abacus to schedule a dinner date with you. Nor do I want to go out with you four weeks later when your schedule finally opens up for date number two, because by that point I’ve forgotten 90% of what you told me about yourself on date one. And…NO. Texting does not count as dating. I want a girlfriend eventually, not a digital pen pal.

I will concede that sometime people are busy, it happens. My point however is that if you are going to navigate the dating waters you need to make the time to do it. I’m a single father, with 70% custody, I work a full time job, a part time job and I have my own hobbies and interests. Yet I am never so busy that if I like someone, truly like them, I can’t make time for them in my life. It’s that simple for me. If I like you I will want to spend time with you, and make space in my life schedule to do so. It’s that simple for me and it should be that simple.

For me when I am “seeing someone” I like to ACTUALLY physically “see them,” but that’s just me. I’m kind of picky that way.

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