Online dating is the worst

Online dating isn't what it used to be. These days with the amount of time people spend with their noses buried in their phones, tablets, and computers - it just makes sense that it would be the most viable option.

Let's get real. I don't go to bars - and when I do my resting bitch face and just general prickly demeanor more or less ensures that men keep their distance from me. Well aside from the cocky asshats but we're not talking about them. Anyways that nixes that option.
And whenever I ask the "hey have any decent guy friends?" Question to friends or friends' SOs I'm usually get the "they're all married/idiots/not good enough for you" type answers. NOT HELPFUL GUYS.

So online dating it is. I'll admit. I've gotten lucky in the past. Lucky as in my ex - although he's now my ex was a pretty great guy and I'm certainly very happy he came into my life when he did. He was a fluke.
Cause there is a lot of bad, for every not so bad first date there have been at least two awful dates.

Now I'm writing this from my perspective I know it isn't easy for men but I feel like MOST of them need help. If not all of them. So here are my tips that every man should follow.

• Have a woman you trust choose your profile pictures for you. No bathroom selfies or shirtless pictures. Women know what pictures are flattering to you but still realistic. 
• Do not post a picture of you with another woman. Ever. Seriously. It doesn't matter if I even like you a smidgen. The first thing I think is "who is this bitch?" Even if it clearly says its your sister. Don't do it
• Don't post pictures of yourself with the same group of guys every time. Don't make me guess which one you are. 
• I want pictures of your smiling face. Where I can actually see your face. 
• I don't care what you drive, I only care THAT you drive (usually) 
• Be honest - don't embellish your height or body type or whatever. THE TRUTH WILL COME OUT EVENTUALLY. 
• fill out your profile. I'm not looking for a novel (unless it's hilarious and well written) but I am looking at your basic spelling, and what you're interested in. "Just ask" is irritating. NO JUST EFFING TELL ME. Also don't write "will fill this out later" we both know you're lying.
• When it comes to messaging I will 85% of the time respond to a well crafted message from a guy who clearly read my profile. Or if you ask me an intriguing question. Rarely do I reply to messages such as but not limited to: "sexy", "hi", "nice tats", "wow", etc.
• Further to that point starting a message with anything similar to "you probably won't respond" or "I always strike out on this site" etc.  - is not attractive. Confidence is key. 
• Also if a girl doesn't reply you really don't need to send her a message telling her "guess you're not interested" you're right. We're not, and now you just sound like a two year old having a temper tantrum. Just move on. ON TO THE NEXT. 

Seriously online dating is like shopping in the bargain bin at Walmart - You have to dig through mountains of garbage just in hopes you'll find something decent. 

Yeah it may seem hopeless or awful or depressing but it's dating condensed. It's going out on a limb a LOT. And getting rejected a lot. Online dating is what would happen at the bar if all the guys who wanted to talk to you did. 

Thank GOD for resting bitch face.

Drowning

It's incredibly frustrating when it seems that the world is out to break you. When a question you ask yourself daily is "How is this my life?"

It seems a constant rule that when it rains it pours. It seems in my life when things get bad they get really bad. And then I'm left feeling like I'm drowning and struggling to breathe the immediate panic sets in of knowing you can't touch the bottom any more, and you don't know how to swim. Suddenly life becomes less about the future and just about how to make it through the next few moments without drowning.

When you're a kid everyone tells you to enjoy it because it will be over before you know it. What they don't tell you is that once you hit adulthood you'll realize that no one really knows what they're doing and everyone is just making it up as they go along.

If you're lucky this might be the greatest struggle you have to face. If you're less lucky you will have more hardships thrown at you than you'll ever have imagined. There will be days when it consumes you. Days when you can't see an end to the struggle.

Slowly though these moments when you feel like you're drowning will pass. You'll feel your head break the surface and begin to gulp for fresh air.

It's easy to get swept up in the drowning moments and let them paralyze you with fear. Fear of the what ifs and of straight up failure. It's hard to face reality and not hide from what scares you. When you're a kid, hiding is what keeps you safe. But at some point you can't hide anymore and ostriching is no longer an option.

Cliches are cliched for a reason. Because they ring true.

• Hard work builds character
• Every storm runs out of rain/it can't rain all the time/if you want to see the rainbow you have to sit through a little rain 
• This too shall pass
• What doesn't kill you makes you stronger. 

All these are little nuggets I drop on a regular basis because I believe all of them. What's more is I have to believe them. Because sometimes a stupid little cliche is all that keeps my head above the water. 

Moving on.

When is enough enough?

Why is it that bad stuff seems to all happen at the same time?

Seems like it is the rules of the universe, when shit gets bad it gets REALLY bad. I have become a master of looking on the bright side of things. I know that things will get better. Every storm cloud runs out of rain and all that jazz.

Sometimes though knowing that eventually the hurt and the pain of this moment will subside doesn't help much. Because in the right now it hurts very much.

It's hard to see your hopes and dreams for the future just completely vaporize before your very eyes.

Breakups are hard in general. Never mind when they are foisted upon you completely out of the blue amongst all the other things you've been struggling with lately.

Time to made the hard decisions and the tough choices. If I'm going to be forever alone it should at least be on my own terms and not a side effect of other people's actions and choices.

I'm a creative GENIUS.... jk I'm not

I am a woman of many hobbies.

Maybe it’s a subconscious tick after watching Idle Hands as a kid at Lac du Bonnet with my cousins - But I ALWAYS have to be doing something. I always have a project on the go. 

Anyone who knows me can attest to the many different things I’ve tried my hand at –

• Paint by numbers
• Painting WITHOUT numbers (this was not as successful)
• Knitting
• Arm-knitting
• Crocheting
• Needlepoint
• Painting my nails obsessively and becoming not too bad at nail art.
• Sewing
• Quilting
•  Scrapbooking
• Make up
• Pottery
• Cosplay Sculpting
• Baking
• Pyrography

The list goes on I’m sure, but I tend to go on mega tangents. Granted this more so tended to happen when I was single and had a lot more free time. (If I was going to be a spinster I was going to be a good one DAMMIT!) But that being said I am fairly lucky to have found someone willing to indulge me and hang one of my “Paintings” in his bedroom and keep a business magnet of mine on his fridge. So credit where credit is due.

I’ve always approached most tasks with a “Pfffft I could totally make that” attitude. Granted, not everything comes out the way I exactly picture it in my head. I think the stuffed dragon I made for my friend’s poor son Lachlan is proof of that. This is what happens when you try to “wing” making a dragon stuffy without a pattern. A far cry from the dragon I made for his younger brother. 

Lachlan's sad Dragon

Cohen's awesome little Toothless

Generally the question becomes “How did you know you were good at that?” Easy – I didn’t I HAD NO CLUE. I grabbed myself some supplies, and just took a stab at whatever it was, maybe I watched a couple youtube videos or found a helpful pinterest tutorial. But more often than not it was a “Here goes nothing!” Type of situation.

I’ve always been fairly creatively inclined, even though I usually stunk in art class. My drawing capabilities are nothing to write home about but almost anything else seemed to work. I am definitely NOT the artist in the family, on EITHER side of my family tree.  Wanna see something impressive – My cousin drew this on the way to Disney World on the plane. That’s talent. 

I think my artistic nature does come from my paternal Grandmother though, she is artsy and talented AF. Props to you Grandma. 

I must say though on a fairly consistent basis I surprise the crap out of myself.  I have two t-shirt quilts, a stuffed toothless, a game of thrones couples costume for me AND my horse, and a nice small little Pyrography business to show for it.

I don’t really know where I was going with all of this, probably to just say “Hey, that thing you don’t think you can make? Give it a try,” Worse case scenario is that you wind up with a really sad floppy dragon like poor Lachlan. 

-I’m sorry Lachlan, maybe one day I will try to make you a Shark blanket and see if THAT works (don’t hold your breath)

Struggles of an Empath

So I’m just going to go out on a limb and assume I am not the only person this happens to – You know that feeling you get when you’re doing something super amazing and exciting, usually a vacation or some type of holiday. And everything in you is screaming “Enjoy every moment of this!” except for that one little thought that creeps up from the depths and the back of your subconscious that pipes up in a small, barely audible voice and says “Your good time is almost over.... then you have to go home. And you know what is waiting for you there? Depression”

This little voice is an asshole. And I’m not talking full blown depression, not the really serious - struggle with it on the daily – depression, the post vacation/holiday/thing you were looking REALLY forward to depression. That feeling of complete and utter “Now what?” sadness. 

This little voice immediately sucks the fun out of whatever moment it occurred in. Have you guys seen Inside out yet? You know when Sadness touches the happy memories and they suddenly turn blue? THAT IS EXACTLY WHAT HAPPENS. I actually relate a TON to that movie, who doesn’t? 

I’m not saying it flat out ruins what I’m doing but it definitely casts a cloud over the remainder of whatever I’m doing.  I know I’m not the only person this happens to. 

I really like to think of myself as an optimist most of the time. I’ve carefully trained my brain to respond to most situations in a “It could be worse,” or “Hey, ____ this is happening because of this crummy thing that happened!” type of manner. And it has become an amazing survival skill. Don’t get me wrong, my old pessimistic side rears its ugly head every once in a while, it’s that asshole with the tiny voice. 

There are days when yes, I want to just sit and wallow and indulge myself in some selfish behavior. If I’m being completely honest though, it’s not even days. It’s hours. If all my hours of therapy taught me one thing it was honoring your feelings and indulging yourself, and not feeling guilty about it. And amazingly when I make an active effort to take stock of how I’m feeling, those sad feelings dissipate way quicker than my old method of bottling them up. And those days of feeling sad, turn into a half an hour of just hiding in the basement with my dog and just crying it out. Then I feel better.  No not 100% better, things will never be 100% better.  There will always be that piece of sadness I carry with my absolutely everywhere I go.  But along with that sadness is also a million reasons to smile and be happy and grateful. 

I 100% believe happiness is a choice you make some days. It’s really easy to take the easy way out and blame the world for your struggles. Maybe it’s the stubborn in me (there’s a lot of stubborn in me) or maybe it’s because I am my father’s daughter – but instead of taking the easy way out, instead of telling yourself you can’t. Why not prove everyone wrong and show the world you can? Why not take an opportunity where the world expects you to fall down, and get back up?

Here’s the thing. People tune out the wallowing. I personally loathe sympathy-seekers. And pity? I want nothing to do with it. The constant complainers and attention seekers are the first ones to get hidden on Facebook. Pity seeking is a black hole, it sucks you and everyone around you into it. Pity does no one any good.  Listen, I’m not talking about empathy – that is a whole different ball game.  I am a major supporter of empathetic people, because I am one.  People’s moods and feelings greatly affect me. If you’re having a crummy bummed out day, you had better believe that after we spend an hour together my mood will mirror yours. If you’re super excited and pumped about something, give it a few minutes and I will be too. 

Well as per usual I hopped on here to talk about this weird funky mood I’ve had for the past couple days/weeks. And have fallen down the rabbit hole, changed topics completely then climbed back out the rabbit hole. And guess what? I feel better. I'm not going to go back and read it, so sorry if it makes no sense. Welcome to my brain.

This is really cheap therapy. 

The Art of Ostriching

Ostriching - Refusing to acknowledge a problem or issue, and expecting it to just go away on it's own while you've stuck your head in the sand.

I am the Queen of Ostriching, if it were an Olympic sport I would be a Gold medal winner several times over. I am fully aware that I do this and have actively tried to do this less in life. Sometimes though to get through things, that old fail-safe method of coping has to be employed.

This Thursday I am embarking on a mission to do something that scares the ever-loving tar out of me.

Showing my horse.

"But haven't you shown before?" You may ask - Why yes, I have indeed. "Then why does this scare you?"
Let me break that one down for you. I'll have to go to the beginning for this one.

When I bought my horse Breezer, I had ZERO intentions of ever showing him aside from the odd "fun show" put on by the barn I was at here and there. There was no chance in hell anyone was ever getting me out to an A Circuit show. I wanted nothing to do with that malarky.

Well something changed, I fell in love with my coach and her teaching style, and suddenly had this epiphany of "I can do this" I had a horse I loved more than anything in the world - who, when my world crumbled around me (this would come later) stayed constant and remained the one I could count on to keep me grounded and always keep my ego in check. - I had support from a wonderful group of people. I wanted to prove that I could take my horse and go to a show and not make a fool of ourselves.

Winning never mattered to me, to this day I have never gotten anything better than a second place ribbon at an A Circuit show, and I wouldn't trade those blue ribbons for anything. Every single class that I could exit that ring in one piece was a win for me. Any ribbon was a bonus.

Every show I fought a battle with my own nerves, feeling constantly nauseous and just having a constant mantra of "don't fuck up" in my head. Considering the fact that I really don't care about winning this still confuses me. I know I can ride my horse, I know he is a good boy. Why do I get so nervous.

The more I think about it the more I'm fairly certain it is because I want to make everyone who has invested in me on a personal and emotional level proud. This may sound silly but the best part of ever getting a ribbon was hearing the clapping and hooting coming from the section of the stands that housed my family and friends. Namely my Dad. I don't want to discount anyone else here but, it's a fact I am and always will be, no matter what - A Daddy's Girl.

So what changed?

Well the year Dad got sick I quit showing. I told everyone it was because I honestly just preferred watching (probably true) and couldn't really afford it (probably also a bit true). But to be completely honest, what was the point if I didn't have him there with me or to cheer me on. I probably always showed a bit more for him than I every truly did for me.

So I retired. I went to the horse shows I watched Kelly show Timmi, and I celebrated in the victories of my team members. I took pictures, and dealt hard truths. My showing days were over.

After Dad died I took a major step back from riding. My love for Breezer and Timmi never wavered, but it was hard for me to go out and actually ride so instead I went to the barn for hugs and snuggles (which never thrilled Breezer anyways) and usually wound up just spending time with Jacquie and her family. They put up with seeing a lot of me as I tried to rebuild my world that had fallen down around my feet.

Last year I finally decided that I was sick of sitting on the sidelines and the following year I would indeed be coming out of retirement.

Easier said than done, It's been a long road back for me. Breezer is almost three full years older, and at 17 ain't no spring chicken anymore. A year off of riding, my fitness and stamina was awful (still is to be honest).

And now we're here the show starts on Friday and suddenly everything that I have bottled up and ignored is finally refusing to be ignored. As my coach Jacquie told me tonight as I sat on my horse trying my best not to just cry uncontrollably (I did an awful job of this) she knew this meltdown was coming eventually. And it all started when Breezer chose today to be an asshole and decide to do everything in his power to get out of having to work. It was just one of those moments when you suddenly question all your choices and ask yourself "What the fuck am I even doing?"

This will be my first horse show without my Dad, and that thought scares me more than anything else. I can say as much as I want to about him still being there with me and all that jazz, but when it comes down to brass tacks - everything is different... and yet it remains the same. I know I won't hear him cheering for me, or get to hear him singing to Breezer in between classes as he holds him for me so I don't get slimed. He won't be there telling Breezer he looks fancy with all his make up on, or helping me shine my boots.

Yet I still want to make him proud and do this for him.

I'm still not entirely convinced that I won't get to the show and have a panic attack, and scratch every single one of my classes. I guess we'll find out.

"Tom Hardy" IS an appropriate answer for the way I feel.

So I’ve spoken before about how I get addicted to things, well I’m going to talk about another thing I do frequently. Obsess. Over the course of my life I have been obsessed with many many things. My obsessions generally last a month or two or at least until I have exhausted myself on whatever I am obsessed with. Once I am done obsessing about something it generally will forever hold a small piece of my heart. 

Examples of random obsessions over the course of my life are as follows:

• Roxette’s Greatest Hits
• 80’s Hair Bands
• Motley Crue (mostly Tommy Lee & Nikki Sixx)
• Musicals
• Angelina Jolie
• Marlon Brando
• Elvis Presley
• Richard Gere
• She’s The Man
• Flip this House
• Sam Worthington
• Cold Case Files
• Tom Hardy
• Pitch Perfect

Well you pretty much get the picture. I can’t even really truly fully list everything since I seem to live my life in a constant state of obsession.  It’s these obsessions that I mostly attribute my vast library of random knowledge in my head that apparently comes in handy while playing Cranium.

I find myself as of yesterday coming into a brand new obsession and I thought I would walk you through some of the steps.

On the weekend I went with a friend to see the new Mad Max movie, of course I haven’t seen any of the old ones but the boyfriend assured me that prior knowledge wasn’t needed going into the new one. Normally this would probably have been a movie I would have waited to see at home, but Tom Hardy. So while I watched the movie with my friend, me with my face twisted into some mask of horror/disbelief/why-can’t-I-stop-staring and her hiding her eyes through most of the more gruesome parts.  I walked away thinking “I really hope I don’t have nightmares about Immortan Joe going all Cruella de Vil”

You see what I mean.

Anyways so after having to describe my feelings about this movie to a bunch of people, which I was still unsure about – Apparently “Tom Hardy” is not adequate feelings to have about a movie for most people -  it was made clear to me that I “have to watch” the first trilogy of movies. So I figured well they’re all on Shomi, I’m not a big Mel Gibson fan but why not? 

Seriously people! All anyone needed to say to get me to watch the original Mad Max was “Mel Gibson is about 20 in it and he will make your ovaries sing. I’d have been in. Seriously, if you want me to see ANYTHING (within reason I still have limits) just tell me about the hot guy in it. You don’t need to tell me plot or anything.  I have a LIST of men I would watch just laying bricks for 2 hours. I’m a simple woman.

Thus I come to my current obsession – Mel Gibson. In specific YOUNG Mel Gibson. Preferably before he went nuts. I’ve already stalked his IMDB page read all the trivia and fun facts about him. Made a list of all the Mel Gibson movies I want to watch, and am planning a Mel Movie Marathon in my head. This is day 2 of the obsession. I have a feeling I may have wrapped up my obsession in less than a month.  But until then I’m just going to keep looking at this picture

 – and suffering through all the weird Mad Max dreams I’ve been having since seeing that movie... and by weird I mean the Mad Max/Legally Blonde mash up dreams I was having last night.

 Oh and bonus Tom Hardy wearing a muzzle 'cause that's kind of hot right?

The Devil's Minions

I hate the dentist.

Okay maybe hate is a strong word. I seriously have an extreme distaste for going to the dentist. Yes, that is a bit more accurate, and to be even more honest it’s not even the Dentist themselves, they’re usually pretty cool people. It’s the hygienists! 

I swear it has to be in the job description to make their patients feel horrible and guilty. I swear never in my life have I been able to make those people happy. No matter how many times I brush (okay let’s get real, I’m not brushing at lunch time. It’s just not going to happen. Adjust your expectations people) or for how long, or what toothbrush I use. It’s just never right.

Or flossing, I am LITERALLY flossing at this very moment! You can never floss enough for a hygienist. And you can’t even lie to them and tell them you floss more often than you do because THEY KNOW. They can’t be human, and regardless I ALWAYS get the one I seem to hate the most. I’m not going to name names here… you know who you are. 

Growing up I had a fantastic dentist, she was the best, and the ONLY person on the planet I ever let call me Caity. Even when she was filling cavities she never made me feel bad about it. However six years ago she did the unthinkable. She moved to BC.

So what did I do? Did I go see her replacement when time rolled around for my check up? Nope. Of course not, I was still sulking. I didn’t want some random dude who didn’t know my entire life story poking around in my mouth. Nope. So I did the only logical thing. I pretty much stopped going to the dentist. Was this childish of me? Of course.

It started as me being stubborn, then just sort of snowballed. Rationally that voice in the back of my head was saying “Dude, you need to man up and just go to the dentist,” but I still kept putting it off.

I found myself turning into a huge hypocrite (I’m like this about a lot of things, I’ll be the first person to tell you to go to the Doctor/Dentist/Gyno but I will never take my own advice -  Which is why I still haven’t gotten the shooting pain in my elbow checked out.) I bullied my boyfriend into going to the dentist, but yet still couldn’t admit to myself that I was terrified of going to get my own teeth done.

Well finally I decided enough was enough. Face your fears! (more on this one later) The time had come that I had to adult up and get my teeth cleaned. Maybe this time would be different, maybe this time the hygienist would see me as an adult and lay off the guilt trip.  Maybe she would just keep her mouth shut and let me sit there in peace and just make that awful scrapey metal on teeth noise *shudder* and I could get in and get out.

Nope.

Just Nope.

Still awful. So here is what I have to say.

Dear Nameless Hygienst,

While I understand you have what is likely a thankless job, scrubbing crud off of people’s not-so-pearly whites. And I am clearly not the ideal patient, I’m not friendly and I hate small talk. However there is a solution. Here are some tips on how to make this less painful on both of us.

• Please, go ahead ask me the standard questions you need for my medical chart. This is part of your job.
• Ask me what flavour polish/fluoride I would like. And from this day forth I will always whine that they discontinued the Lemon Lime fluoride. That stuff was the only reason I ever came to the dentist.
•  Please don’t ask me any questions not directly pertaining to my teeth while you are cleaning my teeth. This is ridiculous, how am I supposed to answer you? Please just no.
• I don’t care about your kids/family/cat/grandmother’s hip replacement. If you must talk about them I can tune you out, that’s fine but don’t expect me to respond or add my own thoughts. I have dental tools and your hands in my mouth. Again I repeat this is RIDICULOUS.
• You don’t have to tell me I’m sarcastic, I know. I’m here to get my teeth done. Doesn’t mean I have to like it.
• Please understand that while I’m listening to you when you give me advice about my teeth, I’m just not going to change my current dental routine drastically. Please be realistic.
• Enough with the guilt trips. This just makes me want to be stubborn and not do any of the things you tell me to do.
• Telling me that my dead father would want me to floss more is just uncool. Seriously? In response to this all I can say is Please remember to whom you are referring. The day Dad ever told me I should floss more would have been the same day I joined any type of team sport. Your argument is invalid.

Yours truly,

Caitlin

So essentially, I still hate going to the dentist. And I have to go back next week to get a tiny cavity filled. But heck, six years and one tiny cavity? I’m going to mark that as a win in my column. 

If you're a dental hygienist and I hurt your feelings, I'm sorry. Well not really. I won't lie to you. Plus I'm likely the kind of patient you hate. So lets just agree to move on with our lives.

 Louise knows what I'm talking about.

(Updated: May 9th: In light of recent events at the dentist, I officially dislike dentists as well as hygenists)