When Tinder Makes You Question Everything You've Ever Wanted

When I was 10 years old I met Benny Disco.  We had a mutual family friend and were invited to swim over at their family's pool.  It was love at first sight.  Benny was 12 (swoon).  He had rosie cheeks and a chubby body and I was smitten.  It was destiny.  That is until he and the older kids went to play basketball in the driveway and I went home with my mom because I wasn't about to be the chubbiest, shortest girl on pavement.

Years passed and Benny floated in and out of my life (I'm totally lying he had no idea who I was). Benny went to a private high school and then some college, I assume.  I drunkenly friended him on Facebook one night in college on a dare from my BFF. She did it, too, in solidarity, of course.  The funny thing about my schoolgirl crush on Benny is that I rarely remember his name (which obviously isn't actually Benny), so I always need confirmation from my friend when we potentially see him out at a bar, or someone mentions a group of his friends.  "Jane, it's Benny and it's so weird that you always say that you love him!"  Whatever.

A few months ago I was doing my classic nighttime ritual - wash face, brush teeth, put on pj's, swipe through Tinder - when the most amazing, serendipitous match flashed before my eyes. There he was, Ben, 23, first pictured walking in some tropical location. Next, holding a fish or a dog or something (I actually can't remember, but everyone on Tinder fishes or has a dog, I think).

This. Was. Fate. 

I swiped right. He swiped right. It's a match, we were meant to be! I imagined he would message me eventually. Noticing our mutual Facebook friends, connecting the dots, realizing he has always (randomly, without reason) had a schoolboy crush on me, too.  We would meet, hit our stride, and be together forever ....or for a beer..... but that was not the case.

Benny and I have been matched for 5 months now, and you know what?  I totally forgot about it until the other day when Benny did the unthinkable! He posted a Tinder moment - for those of you who don't know, a Tinder moment is a photograph that can be seen by all of your Tinder matches for 24 hours.  I, myself, have posted a moment or two (or 15... 3 of which have been liked by Super Bowl Champion, Legarrette Blount, thank you very much!), but Benny's was nothing like my basic "hotdogs or legs" photo on the beach.  Benny's photo was much, much more than that.

I sat there, in my driver's seat horrified, staring at Benny's, what I'm going to call, Little Benny ready for the Disco.... right there on TINDER for all to see with the caption "someone come help me with this?"  BENNY, ARE YOU KIDDING ME?! My cheeks flushed.  Benny was supposed to be sweet and innocent and not putting his package on the internet! My hopes, my dreams, my everything came crashing down.  How could I have been so wrong?!

And that was when I got to thinking, I'm probably wrong about a lot of things. We make these snap judgments and let our first impressions of people stick - good or bad - and then sometimes we are unwavering in our convictions and opinions.  While I'm obviously exaggerating my Benny epiphany, I am sort of serious.  I think it's healthy to reevaluate our goals, our dreams, and truly take a look at what we want and why we want it.  It's like when you see a blue dress on JCrew.com and you are so obsessed with it until you walk into the store and try it on and you look like Violet from Willy Wonka (no? just me?). We are terrible at predicting what we will want or feel in the future, so be ready to change your mind, have a change of heart, and swipe left on what you thought you couldn't live without.

To The Boy Who Asked Me To Dance: An Apology

I was just scrolling through my NewsFeed and saw that you posted a status about the snow.  You're writing a book?? Or making a joke.  I can't tell.  I never understood your sense of humor in high school.  Actually, I never really noticed you in high school, except for at our Freshman Semi-Formal.  I want to talk to you about that.

I really owe you an apology.  When I heard through the grapevine that you were thinking about asking me to the dance, I'm not sure if you know this, but I responded like a total bitch.  It's not like anyone else was asking me, but I thought I was too good for you.  I thought you were weird.  You were always wearing that polo shirt tucked into your khakis, walking around talking about books that no one had ever heard of.  You hung around with that wicked short skinny kid with the spiked messy hair.  He wore the same leather trench coat everyday and the two of you probably talked about... I have no idea what you could've been talking about, but I knew I was too cool for you. Well, I thought I was too cool for you, so back through the grapevine I sent the message that I wanted to go to the dance with my girlfriends. You know, to let you down easy before you actually asked me. 

That night I got all dolled up in my White House Black Market strapless dress (my tastes haven't changed much) and bobbed my head to the beat in a circle of my friends wishing silently that the cute boy on the basketball team would ask me to dance next slow song.  He didn't, but you did.  You walked right over, wearing your suit jacket and tie (totally overdressed in the sea of DEB dresses and Old Navy slacks) and asked if I would dance with you.  Feeling awkward and reluctant, but not wanting to be rude, I said yes. 

Your hands were all clammy and so was your brow line and I felt so embarrassed not wanting anyone to see us dancing together. I remember looking around the gym, thinking everyone was staring at me - at us.  My friends stood together a few feet away, some giggling, some giving me apologetic "it's almost over" glances. You weren't watching them though, you were looking right at me. 

Thirty seconds into the song, "I... uhm.. I have to go to the bathroom." 

That was the best I could do? Seriously?  I said it and I ran to the to meet my BFF and left you there, standing near the DJ, alone. And I am truly sorry. 

Because now here I am eight years later drowning in a sea of unanswered OkCupid messages, hoping that boys men will text me first, hold the door, or buy my beer.  I, like so many women, fall for guys who don't want to commit to me, nor be seen together in public.  I fall for the sorry-my-phones-been-dead-for-three-weeks texts and the I'm-not-looking-for-a-girlfriend-but-if-I-was-it-would-be-you excuses.  I would kill for a guy to approach me now with the same confidence you did at our first high school semi-formal.... to walk right up to me and ask me to dance right there in front of everyone.  I didn't know it then, but clearly you were too cool for me.

You probably still are, as far as FaceBook can tell me.  You understand that there is more to the world than what's right under  our noses.  You raise funds for dreamers, and watch movies and football, and read books, and still wear your shirts tucked into your khakis.  I'm sure you're doing well, and I hope you are.  So, even if you don't remember this night, I wanted to tell you that I do, and I wanted to say that I'm sorry.  You deserved a better dance partner. 

Do Moms Take Naps? ...asking for a friend.

For about a week every year my brother-in-law is invited on a business trip to the Dominican Republic.  Spouses are invited, but kids are not.  Since my sister and brother-in-law have four boys, ages ranging from 7 to 17, a babysitter is undoubtedly required.  Generally, their trip to the Dominican falls during my college's finals week and the boys spend the week with their grandmother.  Three years ago, while they were on the trip, my nephew needed new black pants for his jazz band concert.  I was elected, at the ripe age of 19, to take him shopping for the pants.  Unfortunately, after trips to T.J.Maxx, Old Navy, and WalMart, I had come up with nothing, and he wore his too-short-Steve-Urkle slacks to the show.  Unsurprisingly, the shopping excursion ended with this tweet - a heartwarming and ultimately true affirmation from my (at the time) 12 year-old nephew: 

Now I'm 22.  Seasoned, mature, responsible.  I have graduated Magna Cum Laude with a Bachelor's degree in psychology with a double minor in sociology and writing.  I have taken courses in child development, human development, and childhood learning.  I understand token economies as the best way of forming and reinforcing good behavior, I know at what age the brain is fully developed, and I am currently reading Masterminds and Wingmen: Helping Our Boys Cope with Schoolyard Power, Locker-Room Tests, Girlfriends, and the New Rules of Boy World by Roselind Wiseman for pleasure.  

I am more than qualified to take care of my four nephews, so this week, I am playing mom for five whole days. 

You might be sitting there thinking, "five days is nothing!" and if you're thinking that, I am only on day two and I'm ready to assure you that you're totally and completely wrong... and clearly not a mother.  Holy. Shit.

The following are three of the lessons I've learned so far from my temporary stay in the land of parenting:

Motherhood Lesson 1: Seven (a.m.) is the new eleven.

Let us begin with a note about the sleeping differential between adults and children.  Adults, can generally stay up pretty late and would (if you ask me) prefer to sleep-in late.  My 7 year-old godson? Totally not into that arrangement.  Yesterday morning, I awoke to two little feet, with ten little cold toes climbing into my bunk (he requested that I sleep in his brother's bottom bunk instead of on the couch or in my sister's king size bed).  He squirmed his little piggies underneath the covers and under my leg to warm 'em up as I struggled to separate my top eyelids from the bottom ones.  This was at 7:30 a.m.  A time I haven't seen on a Saturday since my youth basketball days.  Which makes sense because that's where we were headed; recreational youth basketball.

Motherhood Lesson 2: Your kid is not looking at you until he's looking for you. 

Once we got to the gym, I realized I apparently missed the memo about all caretakers bringing their own fold up chair, so I stood for the hour.  Which I actually preferred because then I could follow my nephew's team around from station to station to watch him dribble, shoot, pass, etc.  Unfortunately, 7 year-olds, as I came to find, are not totally tuned into what their parents are doing while they're shooting hoops.  My nephew only noticed me during one station... where he assumed I sat the entire time. I, like I said, was actually moving to watch every one of his stations.  At the end of practice, when all six teams of second graders fled to the middle of the court, cheered together, and dispersed to find their rides home, I assumed he'd come meet me at the last station, having at least noticed that I was moving around the gym with his team. Boy was I wrong.  My nephew ran to where he had noticed me last: the opposite side of the gym.  The anxiety on his face was heartbreaking, as he stared at the spot I had stood during layups at Station Three... 35 minutes prior.  I made my way over to him, he was fine, and I decided that if my kid ever plays youth basketball, I'm going to be the coach. You can't lose the coach. 

Motherhood Lesson 3: Showers are a gift from God. 

My morning routine, outside of this weeklong experience, takes about 45 minutes. Wake up. Brush teeth. Make coffee. Shower. Blow dry. Make up. Clothes.  That would be an option this week if I started my day 45 minutes before the kids woke up! Except, who knows really what time that will be? Last night I found time to shower between 10:00 p.m. when the four youngins were finally sound asleep (two of my other sister's children slept over last night too: SLUMBIE!), my 15 year-old nephew was playing a video game, and my 17 year-old nephew was not yet home for his 11 p.m. curfew.  The shower was unbelievable, but blowdrying my hair seemed out of the question, I didn't want to wake anyone up with be blowdryer. Bedtime finally came at 11:30, when everyone was accounted for, in their rooms, asleep.  That meant 7 hours of sleep until my sister came to pick up two of the kids for hockey in the morning, but I didn't fall asleep right away.  I laid awake in bed for a few minutes running through the schedule for tomorrow, wondering when I would shower next...

Don't get me wrong, I am having a blast! The six person monkey-in-the-middle game yesterday was the most fun I've had in a long time!  My nieces and nephews are all great kids, but I can't say this enough: I am undeniably impressed with how hard my sisters and my own mom work.  I'm sure I will learn about 15 million more lessons before this week is up, so I'll keep you guys posted.  Also, I just have one really quick question: do moms take naps? ... asking for a friend. 

Link to Rosalind Wiseman's website: Masterminds and Wingmen has a sister-book, Queen Bees and Wannabes, as well as a book for parents about parents, Queen Bee Moms and King Pin Dads:

http://rosalindwiseman.com/publications/