Here it is – my favorite song of 2011 (so far – y’all know me – this will change)
Dirty Vegas’ “Little White Doves” (the same group that gave us “Days Go By” and inspired my purchase 8.5 years ago of a Mitsubishi Eclipse, solely based on the music in the commercial).
Back down to business:
I had a long talk last night with a close friend about the pressure I put on myself when it comes to dating.
My entire life has been about one thing: pushing. The career I’ve built began by sheer accident.
Once it got started, there was no going back. When I was 18, I pursued what I thought was an un-gettable internship (which, by the way, my friends Caryn and Tara helped me find, drunk no less, at the time using a service known as AOL). I got it and spent three months in Chicago.
When I was 22, I was offered the chance to go to New Orleans. We all know how that went – I have a 2003 Murrow Award and 2002 Best Sports Report from the Louisiana Associated Press.
Came back to Indiana at 26 (Indianapolis) and went on a roll. Worked anywhere that would take me, made it to WIBC, won Reporter of the Year in 2007, got into television, and started writing. A lot.
Long story short: I’m aggressive and driven about everything I do. Furthermore, I refuse to apologize or feel guilty for having this level of drive and “push.”
So, I apply the same drive to everything else in my life. My writing, my work-outs (my left hamstring and I are at war as of this writing), and my dating life. My friend made a good point: if I lived on the East or West coasts, me being an almost 33-year-old single woman would be seen as perfectly normal. But, Midwestern upbringing as it stands, I feel this pressure.
I feel as though there is something wrong with me because not only am I not in a relationship (and haven’t been in anything I’d qualify as real since my marriage), but I’m also not trying terribly hard to find one either.
My Mom even went to the length of bribing me to sign up for an online dating service (again).
Against my better judgement, I did it. As before, I am not impressed with what’s come forth at all.
Perhaps I’m holding myself to a high standard. Bluntly: I don’t want some bald, overweight, middle-aged divorcee who is looking for a trophy. Go for a walk, for Christ’s sake! I don’t expect Ian Somerhalder perfection, but a little work-out hurts no one.
I also don’t want someone whose favorite thing to do is “watch TV” and claims to be “really uninteresting” (seriously, this was a profile I saw).
Maybe that’s mean. Maybe I’m being too judgemental. But, I feel like, I’ve spent years working on myself, both physically and emotionally, so I could pursue something with someone.
I’m not holding my breathe, as it would probably only add to the pressure.