I was about 3 PBRs deep when I noticed this guy. He was cute, had blonde shaggy hair, and apparently knew my roommate. Roommate introduced us and peaced, the good wingman he is. The boy and I immediately hit it off- it could have been the aftermath of That Guy, the PBR, or his Texas accent. Regardless, we started hanging out.

He seemed really into me. We were playing pool in a bar one night and he stopped: “You’re so fucking cool. Where did you come from?!” He was fun to hang out with, albeit not the smartest, and clearly obsessed with his decent-at-best guitar skills. But whatever, as I said, I was dealing with loneliness in the aftermath of That Guy breaking my heart. Sorry for rebounding.

My roommate who works with the guy comes home with a warning for me one night, about how he knows Texas likes me but has a player reputation. I inform him I’m well aware and have a feeling I’ll be the one ending things first.

Slowly, we stop hanging out as much, partially because I hated everything that came out of his mouth the second he started speaking. But he was super nice and I was super bored. But, I was getting sick of him constantly trying to get me to drop acid with  him, having to explain the simplest stuff to him, and his terrible attempts at serenading me with shitty renditions of Zeppelin songs.

Sober-me was over it. Drunk-me REALLY LIKED him. I hate it when the two don’t align.

One morning (yea, I said it, morning. Judge all you want, bitches) he was driving me home, and still-drunk-me asked “why don’t we ever hang out when we’re sober?”

Our parting conversation went like this:
Him: “Why are you asking me the hard questions?”
Me: “Because right now I don’t give a fuck.”
Him: “Look, I have about 20 girls I could text and they would text back- no, call me back to tell me they love me.”
Me: “Good to know. I’m not the one confessing how much you like me and want to be with me.”
Him: “I shouldn’t have told you that. But it’s true. Also, I’ve proposed to three girls when I was drunk and would only ever think about marrying one of them.”
Me: “Anyway, I’m out. Thanks for the ride.”
And then he said he wants to see me again soon and kissed my goodbye.

I’m sorry, IS THIS REAL LIFE? If your goal was to repulse me beyond belief, check that one off your list.

EDIT: I went back and read this post to make sure I had included enough details to get just how out-of-his-mind this guy was when I noticed my first sentence. “I was about 3 PBRs deep when I noticed this guy.” NOTE TO SELF.</p>

Here’s my list of the day of things I’m thinking about:
1. Ski season, duh
2. helmets with Court
3. slurpees
4. my NEW sleeping bag from Marmot!
5. how badly I want to go bouldering
6. how awesome it feels to work my ass off at the gym
7. My sister and calabash family… it’s time for a reunion PLEASE.
8. BACKWALL, Andrea and my brain child du jour.
9. Mount McKinley (myself atop McKinley, in particular. Sha-zam!)
10. That one cliff on the way to the Supreme bowls near Diving Board but a little hidden and how psyched I am to huck myself off it. WEEEEEE!

and unfortunately…

11. That Guy. Just kill me now, this is SO LAME. Silly emotions, you know I don’t have any.

I was awesome at it. So good at multi-tasking, problem solving, and skiing as much as possible while doing it all (sure, I looked like an asshole on my blackberry on the chairlift, but fuck it. I had a PBR in the other hand. Legit).

Until one day, I got an email I could NOT grasp.

eHarmony.

What?!

I followed the instructions on the email and logged into my very own online dating profile.

Here’s the thing about eHarmony. They give you matches within 10- 20- 50- 100- mile increments. You can pick the increment, but if you don’t have any matches in that radius, they automatically bump you out another increment.

My friends had picked the 20 mile radius, I think. How pathetic and LACKING were my matches?

I had guys from Canada and Saudi as my matches. Really? There aren’t even compatible guys within 100 miles? Fantastic.

That was my first and last foray into online dating. I don’t need the internet telling me I can’t get a date, I can figure that out on my own, thankyouverymuch.

Also, I still don’t know who made it for me but I suspect Megan and Sam. And I still hate them.

Plus, they’re both hilarious. Straight up… hilarious.

Now onto the main event. Lets rewind my life back to when I was 16 or 17 and about to go off to college. I had been hanging out with a friend I met through lifeguarding, K. We had been hanging out strictly platonic but it was obvious there were feelings. I think towards the end of summer we started kissing (likeohmygod!).

The week before I moved off to the great state of Montana and away from the black-hole that is Santa Cruz, K and I were hanging out on the cliff above Cowells, the beach I where grew up doing junior guards and where I met him. We were watching the waves roll in and the clouds turn pink. Totally normal for friends, right? Wrong. Turns out this was about to be a romantic moment and one of the top three awkward situations of my life.

We stood up and were heading to get hot chocolate or something equally mature. We were standing in front of my car (“Thug Mansion”) when I turned around and he was on one knee.

Is he joking?! Turns out, he was not.

“I don’t want you to go away to college. I can see myself falling in love with you. Please stay here. Lets get engaged and stay together forever.”

To recap, I was 17 at the oldest. Never dated the kid. May have kissed him, who knows. And suddenly homeboy is on one knee proposing to me with a daisy-chain ring?

Suffice it to say, I left and went away to college. He and I are Facebook friends; that’s the extent of our friendship.

I’m 100% confident that I made the right choice but also pretty positive I jinxed myself for life. I’m pretty positive that there aren’t any normal guys left. THEY ALL GOT MARRIED.

This post isn’t as funny as any of the other vignettes but it sets the stage. It’s all down hill from there.

If you want any other reason to keep reading this, I will entice you with four choice words:
1-2. Surprise girlfriends.
3-4. Toe sucking.

I’m going to start posting about my adventures as a single girl in the ski industry and all of the shenanigans I get into. We can all laugh, cry, and laugh some more at the mistakes I’ve made, the morons I’ve dated, and the situations I’ve gotten myself into.

Trust me when I say, my dating life is the plot of a romantic comedy, minus any romance. Just comedy. Get excited.

First up: K: The Time I Turned Down a Marriage Proposal.

I’m the Director of PR at my current company, but I’m an unpaid intern. I got offered a job as the receptionist at a spa which will eat up my free time and not help me make friends (but I will get to watch dudes work out…I can’t decide if that’s appealing or appalling…) but I’ll make $9.00 an hour. Which is more than zero.

So that’s cool. What to do, what to do? Can someone just sponsor me with cash? I don’t need any more sunglasses, skis, or energy drinks. I need cash, people, cash! (I would also accept sponsorship/payment in the form of a Black Diamond Megalight shelter, a 15degree sleeping bag, a -20degree bag, and/or hiking boots. And a bear fence.)

Prom Committee. 2004.

SCJG Disco Dance Extravaganza. Year unknown, 2003-2005?

Senior photo, 2005. Tree. Polka-dot leather Escada jacket. Plastics clique ring. Blond hair. Head tilt.

Me and Rhyan. Saint Tropez, 2004.

The DSP goes to Greece, wears Juicy's.