Everything is rolling along fine until some inane person (my mother’s co-worker yesterday at lunch) asked me if I’m pregnant or have kids. I’m reminded it hasn’t even been three full months since the miscarriage. It was really fucking awkward. I know we can try again when we’re ready but that doesn’t comfort the empty ache inside of me.

So now I’m back to making a concerted effort to act “normal.” Doing my best to keep my sadness tucked inside. The worst part is I don’t even feel like crying: I just feel numb. I keep hoping that I’ll just feel better. One of my sister’s friends went through a similar experience and it took her about as long to pay off the miscarriage medical bills as it did to feel better. I certainly hope it doesn’t take that long.

I know that exercise would be helpful but I’m having a lot of trouble sticking to a routine…partly because I just feel like laying in bed and partly because I’m having trouble paying a gym membership when I should be using money for my miscarriage medical bills, wedding expenses, or saving for a place of our own…which I’d explain further but I refuse to do roommate bitching on top of all my whining. So I’m crossing my fingers that my sister gets over her sinus infection soon because hiking with her (and my niece!) always makes me feel better.

Also, I should probably stop listening to The Weakerthans so much. (Boo.)

A few months ago I had an interesting conversation with my dad about dating. (Weird, I know.) He said the shitty part about internet dating is that you don’t have a “real” connection with the people you are meeting*. Well, except that you both pay to meet people on the internet. All you can do is cross your fingers people are genuine because you aren’t going to see them again through mutual friends, or run into them at some shared activity. There is no accountability. Don’t want to talk to someone anymore? Pretend they don’t exist. The end! I’m guilty of this, as well. Sometimes it seems silence is more kind…which leaves me wondering: what the fuck happened to make (insert name of anyone interesting I’ve dated since moving to stupid fucking God’s Country) disappear? I feel like I have been doing a pretty good job of not being the crazy girl. My boundaries have improved. I’m not fucking each dude within the first 20 minutes (I’m all way up to 40 minutes of conversation before sex in the Starbucks bathroom). And I wait at least 5 minutes AFTER sex before I profess my love for him, tell him I want to have a million of his babies, and that I can’t wait for him to meet my cat.

Communicating with men via dating websites the appropriate amount of time, graduating to personal email or phone, then eventually in person is exhausting. Especially when you meet and you immediately know it’s not gonna happen. Whether it’s because he’s educated to fucking infinity but has yet to discover the joys of deodorant, freaking you the fuck out by attempting to destroy all the boundaries you’ve set (HELLO! Red flag d-bag!), or you’d rather tongue kiss your cat. All of which makes it more frustrating when seemingly decent men disappear.

Does anyone know who Random Carol is? ? I’ve been receiving referrals from her, but her blog is private.

And to the person who is coming here by way of a “what to ask to my future husband” Google search, you are in the wrong place. (I don’t know why I’m the second result either.) If you continue to return, I may be forced to write a list of things to ask the lucky fucker.

*I hate it when my dad is right.

Before general anesthesia for my back surgery I was given Versed. I don’t remember anything after the Versed, but my dad was there to witness me say this to the anesthesiologist: “There’s no cleaning your soul.” Who knows what the fuck that means. I don’t want to be emailing my filthy, impossible to clean soul to my friends in the middle of the night…goodbye Ambien, hello Melatonin.