April 25 is indeed the perfect date - (a very special) Date Diary

Cheryl was right.

  On April 25, 2015 (around 10pm) Milton and I got engaged!!!

It may seem sudden, but it's not. We've actually been talking about this seriously since around February. I didn't want to be that girl who's delusional about her relationship status and starts blogging about her engagement before anyone's asked her to marry them, so I've held my cards a bit close to my chest. That being said, things have progressed very quickly since we first started talking about the whole marriage thing. We've covered all the big stuff - everything from how many kids we want (pretty important) to what kind of icing we want on the wedding cake (monumentally important). We haven't settled the kid issue just yet - Milton wants two, but I want seven so we can dress in hillbilly lederhosen (basically just bedazzled overalls) and perform all over Oklahoma as the Mid-West Von Trapp Family. Mostly we'd sing Garth Brooks covers, but I haven't really thought about it that much. Luckily we both agree that buttercream icing is the bomb. 

But all this was premature, because Milton hadn't actually asked me to marry him yet. I kept reminding him of this minor, but important, detail on pretty much a daily basis. I think my persistence is something he really loathes loves about me. I had this desperate desire to preserve all the mystery surrounding the eventual proposal, but that sometimes conflicted with the control freak that lives just beneath the part of my personality that is normal. I didn't want to know when it was going to happen or what the ring would look like, but that didn't stop me from thinking about it pretty much every second of every day.

I had decided that Milton was going to propose next month.  All signs pointed to it.  In three weeks we were going to be on a family vacation with his mom and sister at a seemingly proposal worthy venue. He said he wanted to ask my father's permission in person since they'd be visiting me next weekend. Let's just say I've never been happier to be wrong about anything in my life!

Let me start from the beginning.  Just think of this as the ultimate date diary.  

I crashed at Milton's on Friday night, because we'd been hanging out so late. I stayed in the guest room - That's just how I roll. When I got up, Milton had coffee waiting for me. It was really sweet and reminded me of my parents' morning routine. We cuddled on the couch and made plans for the future. We'd been talking around our impending marriage for months, so we've gotten pretty good at this game. We talked about how it was a good sign that we didn't hate seeing each other first thing in the morning. Milton talked about starting a Saturday breakfast tradition with our family. I could almost smell the waffles and hear the children laughing in the background. I wanted all of it real bad but especially the waffles.   

Finally I went home to shower and get ready for our day. Milton picked me up around 2pm so we could run some errands before an innocent date night that he had planned. We were headed to At Home (used to be Garden Ridge and I'm probably going to keep calling it that) to look for cushions for his patio furniture. Ever since we'd started talking about getting married, Milton has included me on every major or minor home accessory/furniture purchase. Milton is a smart man. We stopped at Sonic because I needed a large drink to keep me properly hydrated during the marathon that is Garden Ridge. I wasn't sure Milton would be up for walking every aisle, but he was such a good sport. We had so much fun just taking our time looking at throw pillows and garden statues. 

We took the cushions back to his house and hung out for about an hour. We talked about what a perfect day of nothingness our Saturday had been so far. Our ability to make a fun day out of mundane activities is probably one of my favorite things about us.

Milton was excited for dinner. We were going to try a restaurant neither of us had been to before - Jazzmo's in Bricktown - and then catch a movie - Age of Adeline. I was a little on the fence about going to Bricktown since the arts festival was going on and I knew parking would be kind of a mess, but I decided to just go with the flow. It turns out parking was a total mess, but the restaurant was amazing! Bonus - it was prom night, so we got to share our table with about 30 high school kids wearing various inappropriate dresses while pretending to be seasoned at eating in a fancy restaurant. Milton and I reminisced about our own proms. It was a short conversation since neither of us went. Then we had a lovely discussion about whether high school Milton would have dated high school Mariah. Let's just say in relationships, timing is everything. I'm glad we met now and not then.

The movie was kind of dumb. The bright spot was when the main character revealed that she had named her daughter Flemming. I turned to Milton with a big, hopeful smile. He immediately started shaking his head no. I guess we're still undecided on future baby names. 

Milton suggested a stroll along the river walk after the movie. I mentioned it was kind of cold, but he promised to keep me warm. How could I argue with that? I was still totally oblivious to his master plan. We walked hand in hand along the river. I was enjoying the peacefulness of the evening when all of a sudden Milton started talking about how this particular part of the river walk was unique because you got to see the backs of so many hotels. It seemed like a strange topic of conversation, but I had to admit, it was pretty special to see so many dumpsters in one place. I was just starting to wonder why he was talking about hotel asses when I noticed that we were in a very secluded part of the river walk. I had never been that far down the river, and I was actually starting to get a little leery. I decided that Milton was either going to propose to me or murder me. I quickly dismissed the first option since I just knew he was going to make me wait a few more weeks. The second option just seemed slightly out of character. 

Finally we found ourselves at the Centennial Park monument - It's basically a garden with various large statues of horses, covered wagons, and Sooners (the land rush kind, not the football players). I proceeded to read the really lame plaque when all of a sudden Milton started kissing me. I just went with it. I try to encourage his enthusiasm for historical sites. The rest is history, but here's a transcript - it's a bit paraphrased since I was too shocked to get an accurate mental recording:

Milton:  I have an ulterior motive for bringing you here.

Me:  Oh really? 

Milton:  I actually talked to your dad on Thursday. 

Me:  Okay. (internally - ohmygosh, ohmygosh, ohmygosh)

Milton:  I'm not going to get down on one knee.

Me:  You will if you expect me to say yes.

This is my only proposal. I wanted the full show. In his defense, his knees are sort of messed up right now from some rigorous tennis matches. He laughed and ushered me over to a bench so he could kneel down properly. It involved some grunting.

Milton: (very ceremoniously)  October 2, 2014 turned out to be the best day of my life, because I met you. You are the most incredible person I've ever met, and I love you so much. 

At this point, he opened the ring box he had stealthily pulled from his pocket. 

Milton:  (very seriously)  Do you like it?

Milton had severe anxiety over picking out the ring. I gave him some instructions, but I refused to go with him to pick it out. I know I was being difficult, but he was getting a guaranteed yes. I didn't want to make it too easy for him. 

Me:  I love it! It's beautiful! (it really is!)

Milton:  Will you marry me?

Me:  Yes, of course!

-- pause for requisite kissing and general merriment -- 

I had thought about this moment a lot in the last few weeks. I had this whole plan to keep it together and tease him by saying no. In the moment, I was too busy trying to not cry to do anything but say yes. Lame. But perfect.

After trying unsuccessfully to take a selfie to capture our big moment, I waved down a few drunk girls passing through the park. The resulting picture turned out surprisingly perfect! And yes, you can finally see Milton's face!  Isn't he cute?

For those of you who care about such things (like everyone), here's a money shot of the ring - I love it!

And here's how I looked when I woke up this morning and realized it wasn't just a dream.

There's lots to come on the blog now that I've got a wedding to plan. Number one on my to-do list: perfect my Bridezilla face. What do you think?

My hero.

Cue the 80s dance sequence...

I need a hero

I'm holding out for a hero 'til the morning light

He's gotta be sure

And it's gotta be soon

And he's gotta be larger than life

Milton was most definitely my hero last night. I'd been hanging out at his house after work. Side note - he made me a home cooked dinner!  It was lasagna, and it was awesome! It was so good, I told him he'd have to make it again sometime soon (like every other week for the rest of our lives). Anyway, as I was headed home on a long stretch of deserted highway, my front passenger tire exploded. From this point on, the rest of this story could have been written as part of my obituary, but (spoiler alert) it has a happy ending.

At first I thought something had hit my car, but luckily I was able to keep driving for a few feet and get my car safely to the shoulder. After a brief inspection of my vehicle, I assessed that my tire was dead. Have I mentioned I have awesome mechanic skills? I immediately called Milton. I was really just letting him know what had happened and was hoping he might come keep me company while I waited for the auto service to assist. He, of course, was happy to help.

When he got there, I was still trying to explain my location to the 18-year-old call center representative who's clearly never been to Oklahoma or read a map. My conversation was going something like this:

Me:  Hi, I have a flat tire and no suitable spare. Can you send someone to tow my car?

Auto Service Moron (ASM):  Sure, where are you located?

Me:  I'm heading East on Kilpatrick turnpike. I'm between the Yukon and Wilshire exists.

ASM:  Is that in Oklahoma City?

Me:  I think technically I'm in Yukon, OK right now.

ASM:  But the address on your account says Oklahoma City.

Me:  I drive my car lots of places.

ASM:  What was the last business you saw?

Me:  There was a 7-11 about 10 miles back in Mustang. I'm not sure you understand where I am. I'm in the middle of nowhere on the Kilpatrick turnpike heading East between the Yukon and Wilshire exits.

ASM:  I'm not seeing a Kilpatrick turnpike on the map. Can you spell Kilpatrick?

Me:  C-A-N-I-S-P-E-A-K-T-O-A-N-A-D-U-L-T?

(This might be a good time to point out that I'm not so nice in crisis situations.)

ASM:  Oh, are you on the John Kilpatrick turnpike?

Me:  No, I'm on the Kevin Kilpatrick turnpike.  Yes.

ASM:  Are you heading North or South?

Me:  The turnpike runs East and West. I'm heading East.

ASM:  (a little too sarcastic) It looks like it runs North and South.

Me:  I'm heading East. Technically my car is facing North right now, but that doesn't change the direction the highway runs. I'm in the Eastern lane of the turnpike.

At this point the Auto Service Moron proceeded to put me on hold for 45 minutes so she could find a suitable service provider to tow my car. She was very  helpful to check in every 5 minutes or so to let me know she still couldn't find anyone willing to come help me. Everyone was apparently busy sleeping, which is what I wanted to be doing.

The whole time I'd been having this conversation from hell with the Auto Service Moron, Milton had been trying unsuccessfully to change my tire. I explained that my spare wasn't exactly functional, and I had zero tire changing tools. Milton wasn't deterred. He had tools. He tried and tried to get his own jack to fit under my car, but SUVs and my little car are built differently. Nothing would work. He gets lots of points for trying.

Meanwhile, I was getting impatient. At one point Milton asked me what I wanted to do. My suggestion was to set the car on fire and ride off like Thelma and Louise, minus the whole cliff thing. I was serious too. Milton wasn't quite as enthusiastic about the plan. Instead, he found a tow company that understood basic driving directions. They arrived in about 15 minutes.

Here we are waiting for the tow truck. Please forgive the terrible lighting. It was very late, and I was very pissed off.

Here's the fun part: From the second Milton arrived, I didn't really have to do anything. He took care of everything. He's such a good boy. As a bonus, his calm demeanor and generally pleasant disposition calmed me down from the peak of the anxiety-fueled rage that had started boiling over about the time I had to explain how highway directions work to some girl who probably doesn't even have a driver's license. 

I remember the days, not so long ago, where I had to tackle every challenge on my own. I could take it. After all, I'm a smart, successful, independent woman. There's not much in life I can't handle on my own. But here's the thing - I don't want to. For the past several years, I've been anxious desperate longing for someone to share the burdens of life with me. I wanted someone to reassure me everything would be okay while I waited on the repair man, the test result, the casserole...everything from the big stuff to the little stuff. I wanted someone to be there.

Milton was definitely there. It was so romantic to watch him handle everything. The whole time I just kept thinking, this guy is here for me. He's here to help me, because I'm his favorite, and he cares about me.

I think he'd definitely be there for the next crisis too. As he was taking me home, I joked that having a girlfriend sure was a hassle. You never know what you'd be asked to do next. Milton never missed a beat: "It's not like you asked for a kidney."

Not yet.

Be sure to wear comfy shoes...

Hello world. Well, honestly, that's probably a bit ambitious. Hello all four of you who still read this blog. I'm sorry it's become a den of joy rather than the pit of sarcastic despair I intended this site to be. Actually, I'm not that sorry. In my life, I've been happy and I've been sad.  Happy is just ever so slightly better.

Milton and I are still going strong. We're just a few hours shy of the 6-month mark. If you'd asked me a year ago if I thought I'd be in love with a guy as great as Milton, I would have told you I had a better chance of becoming a gluten-free vegetarian who believes in global warming and fibromyalgia. Oh and unicorns, never forget the unicorns.

If you'd told me that a guy as great as Milton would be in love with me, I would have thought you were just being mean. But we are in love. It's so much better than I would have imagined it.

In my prior life when I had crushes on boys (can't really call those relationships since unrequited love doesn't count), I was never comfortable. I wasn't myself, but rather I was some version of myself I thought they would accept, which thankfully they didn't. With Milton I have this intensely free feeling because I know he's in love with the real me. I've never had that nervous feeling like maybe he wouldn't accept whatever quirk I was about to display. I have no secrets or agendas. We can talk about anything, and I know he doesn't have any secrets. Although, I still have this sort of girlish fantasy that at some point he's going to tell me he's actually the crown prince of Denmark, and he didn't tell me sooner because he wanted to make sure our love was real before whisking me away to a palace life full of 24-hour chefs and endless shopping sprees. It sounds appealing. What can I say - mama needs a new pair of shoes (daily) and to never have to go to work again.

Just to prove how real our love is, we've now officially met the entirety of each other's families. I had already met Milton's immediate family, and he had met my sister and her husband, but now he's finally met the people who raised me. It went well. I think he really took a liking to the warden at the Southwest Missouri Juvenile Detention Center, but the tapioca pudding wasn't quite as zesty as I remembered.

Kidding.

We already had a weekend picked out for Milton to come to my childhood home so he could meet my parents and so I could do everyone's taxes. You know, the usual. As luck would have it, my father decided to attend a car show (read old man swap meet) near Oklahoma City the week before, so he got to have dinner with Milton and I before the real visit. I thought this would be a good way for Milton to ease into the particular uniqueness of my parent's personalities. Clearly my mother agreed. I believe her exact words were, "I think it's simply marvelous that everyone has had a chance to meet Milton before me. Why would that bother me in the least to have to hear about how nice and smart and funny he is rather than see for myself?"

#sarcasmrunsinthefamily

But since dad was in town, I couldn't very well not introduce him to the boy I hang out with every night. The three of us went out for pizza where Milton was introduced to my father an the sheer number of topics one might be expected to expound on in a typical conversation in my family.

We covered...

Jobs

Pool (the kind you play, not swim in)

College roommates

Alma maters (preschool to the present)

Dodge Motor Company

The Dodge brothers (they're dead)

Dodge bicycles (who knew those existed)

Christmas shopping (spoiler alert, dad - I'm not getting you Dodge stuff)

Antique car parts

Rain

Old men in the rain (specifically at swap meets)

Car swap meets (and all the ways they can disappoint)

Old cars (pre-1940 because everything else is basically new)

Pizza toppings

Specifically pineapple as a pizza topping

Whether pineapple counts as a pizza topping (I vote yes)

Whether anyone else wanted pineapple on their pizza (just me, then?)

Tennis

How good of a tennis player I am (my father lies)

Milton's football career (nonexistent)

My father's football career (also nonexistent, but he did play)

All the ways in which my father has injured himself over the years (if I had a nickel for every time I shoved a screwdriver through my hand...)

Digging up crystals in Oklahoma (apparently it's a thing)

The famous crystal my dad sold to the Smithsonian (for real)

And...

Ways to drive from Oklahoma City to Joplin without having to set foot on an actual highway

It was a great dinner, and I was so proud of how well Milton kept up with his end of the conversation. Dad gave mom a full report before he even made it back to Joplin. The buzz was positive.

I was still a little nervous for Milton to meet my mom and see my childhood home. It's such a personal thing. I tried to prep him for what he might see or hear or taste. Number one, I told him to wear comfortable shoes. The family spread is pretty massive, and my dad definitely relishes his role as tour guide. I also told him my mom would be cooking lots of meals and that she'd given up perfect housekeeping many years ago. Lastly, I told him to make a big deal over their dog. I'm pretty sure at this point they like the dog better than either of their daughters.

I think my parents were as nervous as I was because when we arrived, my mom had set up dinner in the fancy dining room using the china that only gets unboxed when the queen visits. She doesn't visit as often as you might think. Milton spent the next two days taking tours of my dad's various collections and having nice long talks with my mother about how great I am. Awkward.

As a bonus, Milton got to meet my childhood best friend, and he even got to meet her parents. It's only appropriate since I spent as much time with her family growing up as I did my own.

The final report was that everyone likes Milton, and Milton likes everyone. Success!

The only complaint from Milton was that the tours were a little long with insufficient time for bathroom and snack breaks. He'll get used to the itinerary after a few more visits. After years of these kinds of tour myself, I gave him the best advice I could - don't lock your knees, and it never hurts to have a power bar in your pocket.

A half decade wiser, and a whole lot lighter.

For those of you keeping score, today is the five month anniversary of Milton asking me to go steady. It feels like it's been way longer than that.....but like in a really good way. I guess I just mean that it feels like we've been together forever.....but not that I'm sick of him or anything.* What I'm trying to say, poorly, is I feel like Milton and I have always been a part of each other's lives. Our relationship feels so much more mature than the helpless infant that it is. Since we're both settled in our careers, and you know, we're not sixteen or anything, we've been having all the serious kinds of discussions you start having at this stage. Of course, I'll keep you posted should anything interesting come of that.

Our anniversary got me thinking.** This month also marked my five year anniversary at work. That's half a decade at the same company - doing the same job. This is a big accomplishment for the girl that switched jobs every year or so through my mid-twenties. I had almost convinced myself that staying at one job longer than a year would literally kill me from boredom. Well, there have been some boring periods in my five year career, but all in all, it's been pretty great. I've weathered a few recessions, a couple of layoffs, and a change in CEO, and somehow I've come out doing better than I ever would have dreamed when I was growing up in a small town in Southwest Missouri.

Suddenly, I'm all choked up. Must be the sugar cookie I just inhaled. Little known fact - if you can eat the snack during a commercial break, the calories don't count. Let's take a look back at five years younger Mariah and see how she's grown (or shrunk, as the case may be).

I think this employee photo really says it all. It was taken on my first day as an official full-time employee in 2010. Look at that baby - all naive and full of dreams and a little sweaty from taking a campus tour. Side note - I wore that sweater exactly one time, for this photo. I think I still have the sweater which proves I am terrible at picking out clothes, and I'm a bit of a pack rat.

I had interned for the company the previous two summers, so I'd posed for several of these employee photos. My very first photo ended up on my official work badge when I started full-time. I won't show you that picture, as it's truly horrific. I'm not sure how it resurfaced when they made my badge, since the above photo was seconds old at the time, but if nothing else, it serves as a good reminder not to dye my hair that particular shade of black/brown ever again.

At the time this photo was taken, I was new to the city, living large in a two-bedroom apartment with an attached garage because I wanted to flex my big girl salary muscles. Just a few years later I would flex those muscles in a big way when I bought a house, literally on a whim one afternoon, but that's a story for another day. 

I searched long and hard for a church, found one I loved, then abandoned it because they had no singles group. A few months later I would realize that having a church you love is more important than the opportunity to meet a boy, and I would return. Coincidentally, the church started up their singles program about three months after I rejoined. I've been a dedicated member of the group ever since, and I've made some amazing friends from it. Now the group is transitioning as more and more of us are in relationships. Transitions like this can be painful, but I've come to realize how necessary and important they are if you want to really have a full life.....and now I'm being sentimental again. My bad. To break the tension, here's a picture of an inflatable children's slide that nobody should rent for their child's birthday party.....ever.

And we're back. The girl in this photo ( I mean the first one, not the scary vagina slide picture) had a massive student loan from getting a law degree and MBA. I was still in that lovely six month grace period, but soon I'd have to pay the piper for all that late night pizza and fancy book learnin'. I owed $110,838.88. That sounds like a lot, but really.....well.....yeah, it's a lot. I had this crazy idea that I could pay it off super early by throwing all my extra money at it. All my friends thought I was nuts. After all, I'd still need to be saving for a house, take occasional vacations, and handle whatever other crisis came my way, but I was really committed to the plan. I'm delighted to report that I'll actually make my final loan payment at the end of March!!!!! That's nine months ahead of what I'd originally planned and about 30 years faster than the government requires.

The girl in the picture was also single but definitely didn't want to stay that way. My pitifully small dating history had led me to believe that no decent guy would ever be interested in me. That's a sad way to look at life, and it wasn't even remotely true. I'm not just saying that because now I'm with an extremely decent guy. I just understand men and women and relationships so much better now than I did five years ago. I've also quit tearing myself down as much as I used to, because it's a huge waste of energy, and it's hard to keep up with the lies you tell yourself. As much as I've been impatient to be in the next phase of my adult life, I'm so relieved I didn't meet someone great before I was really ready. That God fella sure seems to know what He's doing.

Finally, the girl in the picture wasn't healthy. I was overweight, killing myself slowly one brownie at a time. Before I started Weight Watchers, I would have told you I didn't eat that bad. That's another fine example of the lies I used to tell myself. I was like the alcoholic who says their drinking is no big deal because they only black out when they're at home. I've realized over the past year how out of control I really was regarding my overall health. I'm so much happier to have tamed that part of my life. That's not to say I don't still have an affinity for brownies and cookies and lasagna and the full range of the Little Debbie's brand and.....wait, what was I saying? Oh right, yup, it feels good to be in control.

So here's to the next five years! I'm uncharacteristically optimistic about all the new adventures on the horizon. But as they say.....

* Okay Milton, if you're reading this, please don't break up with me.

** By the way, I know how utterly ridiculous it is to celebrate a five month dating milestone as if it's some kind of legitimate anniversary.....or at least I did until I had one to celebrate. So all you haters can go on hating long after I've finished this post.

My first (and favorite) Valentine

I have enjoyed a rare lazy Monday thanks to my company's fervent patriotism and acknowledgment of President's Day.  I celebrated the leaders of our country by exercising my freedom not to get out of my pajamas all day.  Presidents, I salute you.

This was a fitting end to a perfect weekend in which I was also able to celebrate Valentine's Day with my first ever Valentine. I assumed that having a boyfriend on Valentine's Day would ensure me some kind of holiday themed gesture, and I was right.  Milton did not disappoint, not that I was worried. He wasn't super stealth in how he went about sorting everything out.  He texted me a couple of weeks ago to ask how he might get something delivered to my office and to get a picture of some earrings he knew I wanted.  What can I say, I love a man who plans ahead!  I rewarded his initiative by responding with instructions for office deliveries, the email and phone number of a trusted coworker, a picture of the earrings, and a link to my Amazon wish list. He had all the tools necessary for V-Day success. And he probably learned an important lesson about my tendency to be a control freak.

Even with all that prep work, Milton went way above and beyond my expectations.

On Thursday I received the Valentine's trifecta:  flowers, chocolates, and a teddy bear, along with an incredibly sweet note that made more than one of my coworkers tear up. I later found out that Milton went through several drafts when writing the note.....which sort of made me tear up....and want to see the other drafts.

These are the fist flowers I've ever received from someone not related to me. I really, really liked it. I know flowers are a huge waste of money since they cost so much and die so quickly, but I can't help it. They're so pretty, and they smell so nice.

I ate the chocolates too fast to get a picture. I'm not proud of it.  Sometimes the fat girl I ate on my path to Weight Watcher's success comes out to play on holidays. I'm happy to report the bear survived my feeding frenzy.

Milton had to work on Valentines Day, but we were able to spend a couple of hours together after he got off work. I introduced him to one of my all-time favorite chick flicks. It's safe to say When Harry Met Sally is not Milton's new favorite movie, but he was a good sport.

On Sunday, Milton and I had what he called "our Valentine's Day." Although, by that point, I'd already had the most romantic Valentine's Day of my life. It felt greedy to get more, but he wasn't done yet. We got all dressed up and went to a nice dinner at Red Rock, followed by a movie that turned out to be TERRIBLE. I take full responsibility since I picked it. Lest you think we saw Fifty Shades or something, I'll just warn you now not to waste two hours of your life seeing Kingsmen. I can't believe adult humans spent millions of dollars to make that load of crap. Give me 45 minutes and a typewriter, and I can have a screenplay superior to that hot mess ready to shoot.

Luckily, I could spend the movie reminiscing about our gift exchange earlier in the evening. It was a perfect distraction from the bad acting and ridiculous plot. When Milton picked me up for dinner, he gave me the earrings I had been wanting. Aren't they pretty and so perfect for the occasion?

I gave Milton some gifts too, but I think we all know boys get the short end of the stick when it comes to this holiday.  For all his trouble and expense, he received a handmade card, a puzzle, heart-shaped Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, snowman duct tape, a coffee mug with a humorous meme on it, and a coaster hand-glazed by me that said I "heart" Mariah.

Milton got screwed. Not literally, of course. I mean, what guy would want that when he could have a puzzle?

Shut it down.

I tried to deactivate my online dating subscription today.  It felt a lot like that episode of Friends where Chandler wants to quit the gym but instead ends up with a joint checking account with Ross. Let's just say, the powers that be over at iTunes make it really hard to deactivate an app purchase. The best I could do was to cancel the automatic renewal.  So technically I still have an online dating account through March 4. That's not to say I'm still online dating in any capacity.  I hid my profile back in October, and I've been done online dating in my heart pretty much since I went on that terrible date with Miami Vice. Does anyone remember that guy? I wish I didn't.

What started this whole thing was Milton getting charged for the automatic renewal of his own online dating account. He texted me this morning to say he'd gotten it refunded. I mentioned that I should probably cancel mine just to avoid the auto payment issue he'd faced. But even though we're totally in love and definitely a couple, it still felt like a really official step to take. Plus, a part of me wants to get my money's worth out of things, and leaving over a month of a subscription on the table felt like getting robbed. That led to this exchange:

• Me: If you were a betting man, what would you say are the chances I'll need to online date again before March?
• Milton: Shut it down. There is a 0% chance you will need it.

There's something so romantic about your boyfriend telling you to shut down your online dating account over a month before the expiration date. You can go ahead and put that sentence in the category of "things our grandmothers would never have said about love."

Romance in this modern age is defined a little differently than it was back in the pre-war era....and mind you, I'm talking about Vietnam. Pre-1970 or so, the things women wanted from a relationship, and later a marriage, were things like security, companionship, and a partner to help build a family. Love was a factor, but it was towards the bottom of the list after all the practical things a marriage must provide. The romance of a marriage was in the little things - the guy who had a steady job that allowed his wife to focus on the family and home, the father that played with his kids and coached the soccer team, the husband that took out the trash while telling his wife how beautiful she looked in day-old pajamas.  

Then feminism came along and mucked everything up.

Suddenly women were supposed to be, not just able, but delighted to provide their own security in the form of professional and financial independence. We could have a family by ourselves with the use of a sperm donor or through adoption. Companionship fell totally by the wayside as we started building pseudo families out of our friendships - composed mostly of other single women in our age group. In the post 1970s crowd, love is what women want first out of a relationship. Anything less than toes tingling, heart racing, palms sweating, all-consuming romantic love is deemed settling. Society has been quick to indoctrinate us with the idea that romance only exists in perfectly choreographed flash-mob style proposals, spur of the moment weekend getaways to exotic locales, and, if you subscribe to the Fifty Shades approach, getting the shit beat out of you with a leather whip.* People forget that the kind of romantic love I've just described rarely leads to the kind of steady, committed relationship needed to traverse the daily banalities of making breakfast, getting kids ready for school, and paying the water bill.

Over time, the little things in a relationship have become lame in comparison to what society deems a romantic gesture. As a consequence, how we define love has shifted dramatically, and in the name of feminism and exerting our independence, we've tricked ourselves into being discontent with a healthy relationship. 

Before I take too much credit for these big ideas and broad, unsubstantiated facts, I'd like to point you to a book I just read (twice actually, it's that good) about how women approach dating and relationships.  It's called Marry Him: The Case for Settling for Mr. Good Enough. I know, I know, you're already pissed just based on the title, but I promise I would not steer you wrong or waste your time with a bunch of nonsense...well, no more nonsense than this blog usually is. In this book, author Lori Gottlieb lays out the case for what's wrong with how women approach dating, and how with a little bit of effort, we can actually get out of our own way and find a meaningful relationship while we're still young enough to have the family feminism has scared us into denying we actually want. It turns out it's not about settling; it's about compromise. 

To be clear, I still consider myself a feminist in a lot of ways. I definitely want the opportunities to seek out a satisfying career (which I have) and build a life for myself while waiting on or instead of getting married (which so far, I'm doing). But I think it's important to remember that with all this independence and opportunity, we can't neglect one inescapable fact - If you want a husband, you have to get married, and that doesn't just happen because you want it real bad. It takes some effort. 

If you are a single, independent woman, and you want to be married, you should read this book.** I would even argue that there's some fantastic pearls of wisdom to be gleaned from its pages for those women in relationships, marriage or otherwise. You may find it helps you to focus on your partner's strengths instead of their weaknesses.  I can't be the only person who suffers from a case of overactive analyzer syndrome. Anyone?

I was already playing around with the ideas the book presents before I read it, and thank goodness for that! I'd spent the past 10 years or so being really upset about being single. I was tired of all the trite condolences that people had to offer:

• You'll find love when you stop looking. So I'm not supposed to notice single people in my social circle?
• It's all in God's time. Okay, yes this is true, but it doesn't make you feel better while you're standing in another pitiful single-girl mosh pit trying to catch a wedding bouquet.
• You're such a catch, I can't figure out why you're still single. Me either.

I thought the reason I was single had to do with men being shallow. I assumed that the Lord would just drop the perfect guy at my feet, and if that wasn't happening it was only because the perfect guy was too busy chasing after someone thinner and with fewer opinions. But it was becoming increasingly clear that my being single had more to do with my bad attitude and unreasonable expectations about relationships, coupled with my unwillingness to admit that I had the power to do something about it.

Something changed in September that prompted me to give the online dating thing a try.  I'm not sure what it was exactly. Maybe it was that "God's timing" thing I didn't want to hear about, but whatever it was, it allowed me to try online dating with an open mind. I approached it like I was interviewing people for a job - if a candidate had the basics of what I was looking for on paper, I would give them an interview. So if the guy had a profile with a few commonalities to mine, and he messaged me, I gave him a shot. If he asked for a date, I went on a date - even if the messaging wasn't stellar (so long as I didn't get the stalker/raper/kidnapper vibe). I tried as much as I could not to let superficial, subjective criteria keep me from meeting someone. And I really made an effort not to compare the guys on the site to the imaginary man I had dreamed up. The result was a few dates that were terrible and a few dates that were nice but not really what I was looking for. 

And then I fell in love. The rest is (hopefully) history.

Without even realizing it, I formed a relationship using the ideas and advice contained in this book. But even as I was doing it, I was measuring my feelings against society's definition of love - did I have enough butterflies, was he saying and doing the right things, was I saying and doing the right things, was the relationship progressing too fast/too slow/not at all? You have to fight these kinds of irrational, ingrained views on what a relationship is supposed to be.

Milton hasn't jetted me off to a romantic weekend getaway, and he definitely hasn't organized a flash-mob style proposal (by the way, Milton, these are not hints), but he definitely keeps the romance going in a few ways that might surprise even him:

• He pursued me from day one.  He kept asking me out and planning dates. This seems simple, but at a time when hanging out casually at a guy's house, going halve-sies on a pizza, while watching a football game counts as a date, this is actually pretty huge. He never left me wondering if he was going to want to see me again.
• He locked things down by initiating the "define the relationship" discussion. Having a guy who will take charge on those serious discussions is amazing.
• He gave me his real phone number from the beginning. This was a sweet little revelation he told me about a few weeks into dating. He had a work number that he used for online dating so his potential dates wouldn't be able to stalk him if they turned out to be crazy, but for some reason, when it came time for us to exchange numbers, he gave me his real one. I'm the only girl he met online that got his real number.
• He brought me a case of bottled water one time when he noticed I was running low.  Seriously, this was huge!
• He casually told me a story about his day that involved helping an elderly person in a serious health-related crisis - a crisis so bad, most men would have called for help as they left the scene. This is actually when I started to fall in love with him, because it speaks to his character.
• He's chivalrous. He opens my car door every time we go anywhere. When we sit at a table, he always pulls my chair out for me. He helps me with my coat and even carries my purse when asked (for short periods of time, at least). We walked by a puddle one time and I jokingly asked him if he would lay his coat over the puddle so I could walk across it. He said he wouldn't have to because he could just carry me across the puddle. Just the thought of being with a guy who can lift me is kind of hot.
• He cares about my safety - whether it's when we're out together or when I'm driving home at night or on a road trip, he wants to know I got home safely.
• He listens when I talk, and he actually remembers what I say.
• He's not shy with affection. He holds my hand in the car and at the movies. He rubs my back when we're standing in line at the store. When we watch TV on the couch, he'll bend down and graze the top of my head with his. He always kisses me hello and goodbye. But....
• He's not insecure about my need for occasional space. He wants me to pursue my hobbies, even if that means time away from him. He wants me to take a day off from spending time with him if I'm in need of a little mental recharge.
• He sings for me. This may sound a little mushy, and to be honest, this one surprised even me. Everyone in his family kept telling me what a great singer he is, but apparently he refuses to sing for people. One night we were driving around, and I asked him to sing me something, not thinking he would since his mother had assured me that was not going to happen. But I guess he just needed a fresh audience.
• He will spend hours holding me, if that's what I want/need.
• He doesn't shy away from serious discussions, and he's confident enough to share his opinion before hearing mine, knowing that we may disagree.
• He tells me he loves me. And he means it.
• He also tells me I'm beautiful...no matter how much I resist believing it. I'm working on it.
• One time, he even told me I was perfect, but I don't want to spend too much time trying to believe that.
• He will reminisce about our love story as many times as I want him to. I like to play a little game with him where, out of the blue, I'll ask about what he was thinking when he first messaged me or texted me or saw me walk into Starbucks on our first date. I'm not sure he understands the point of the game, but he plays along because he knows I like to hear it.

The reason I like to reminisce about our love story is because I feel so much optimism about how the story might grow. I don't want to forget one tiny speck of how it began. I'm excited about all the little things and big things I might get to add to this list of what is romantic about our relationship. And I'm so abundantly thankful I spent the past few months building a relationship with the guy who (so far) is perfect for me instead of chasing after the guy who's perfect (and doesn't exist).

* I should acknowledge, I have never read the Fifty Shades trilogy, nor will I. I will not be one of millions of women watching the movie on Valentine's Day. This trilogy is one of many things that are wrong with the world. You can wax poetic about the benefits of a little BDSM in your physical relationship all you want, but I bruise easy, and I have a hell of a right hook.  Go ahead, I dare you.

** Seriously, read this book. Buy it for your friends, and then figure out some way to accidentally leave it at their houses or something, because giving a relationship self-help book to a single friend can definitely be more than a little awkward. 

It's the hap, happiest season of all - Date Diary #.....well, let's just say I've lost count.

Merry Christmas!!!  Or at least it will be very soon.  It's been a while since I've given you all an official date diary. This may not qualify as official, but since Milton and I have had a string of dates lately that don't involve sitting on my couch and watching TV, I thought I'd take this opportunity to tell you about our recent adventures.

Thunder Up!

Unexpectedly, Milton got tickets to the Thunder game last Tuesday.  The Thunder played the Milwaukee Bucks, so the game wasn't expected to be extremely competitive...and it wasn't.  but it was my first live Thunder game of the season, and we had a good time.  Plus, all the Thunder players were finally healed!

Milton picked me up from work, and told me he liked my outfit.  Oddly enough, it was the first time he's really complimented my clothing.  I guess Milton is a fan of blazers.  Before the game we grabbed some pizza at Hideaway.  So good, but pizza is one of those trigger foods for me. It was kind of like giving hydrocodone to a heroin addict complaining of a slight headache.  After the holidays, I'm going to have to seriously get back on the Weight Watcher's bandwagon.

Basketball is one of the few sports I actually understand, along with tennis, gymnastics, and figure skating, so I love going to live games or watching on TV.  I'd never sat in Loud City (the upper decks of the arena), because I'm a spoiled princess whose company has awesome seats that they often give to employees.  I was pleasantly surprised to find the players are still recognizable from that distance. Milton warned me that he can be a pretty intense spectator.  I was prepared for him to rip off his shirt halfway through the game and yell racist things at the refs, but instead he just sat in his seat, holding my hand.  In an ultra-macho show of fanaticism, he did take breaks occasionally to clap his hands or execute a celebratory fist pump.  Geez, Milton.  Calm down.  I can't take him anywhere...

I just have to give Milton a quick shout-out for his end of the night chivalry. When he dropped me back at my car at work at the end of the night, I accidentally left my phone in his car. Being someone who always pays attention to things, he quickly noticed and drove it over to my house, without me having to ask. Which was great, because I was already stressing about how I was going to get ahold of him to get my phone back. My hero!!  How the hell did we get anything done before cell phones?

The Clark Griswold Extravaganza!!

On Friday, we made a double date with some of my friends to drive down to Chickasha and check out Christmas lights.  Milton had been talking about doing this for weeks.  He loves the holidays and all things that have to do with Christmas decorations.  This is my solitary Christmas decoration....so....yeah...

But I was happy to participate in a holiday themed evening with friends.  Milton hadn't met these particular friends before, but it's not like there's anything potentially awkward about spending 4+ hours in the car with people who've just met.  Luckily, my friends are awesome, so we all had a great time!  Milton wanted to take us by a home in Norman that really goes all out for the holidays.  The light display was pretty intense.  Their entire ranch house was decked out, and the lights were timed to a 15-minute Christmas music show on a local radio station.  The whole things was a fundraiser for a local food bank, but upon exiting, I couldn't figure out where to put our donation, so the show was free.  Word of advice to fundraisers everywhere - you have to make the donation bucket accessible or else people like me will give up and just drive away without contributing anything.  After that we were going to get on the road to Chickasha, but it was so foggy and already almost 9pm, so we bailed on the plan.  We did manage to take one picture outside my friend's house:

Here are a few highlights from the evening:

• I learned that Milton is a little picky about his car. I mentioned that I wanted some ice-cream before we left the burger joint where we had dinner.  I added that I'd just get it to go so we wouldn't be any more behind that we already were, which led to the following exchange:
• Milton:  You want to eat in my car?
• Me:  Yeah, but only so I can smear ice-cream all over the windows.
• Milton:  Okay (in a voice that made it clear this was anything but okay). 
• So what did I do, you ask?  I got my ice-cream to go and ate in the car.  I'm 31, not 3 - I can eat in a moving vehicle without incident.  Mostly. 
• We had a lovely, intense discussion about all the ways in which Disney is racist and behind the times.  Almost all the Disney princesses are white, and there are definitely no interracial couples, unless you count Pocahontas and John Smith, which I don't because that was a historical event, not Disney trying to be edgy.  Milton pointed out that they've had a little girl on dog action in Beauty and the Beast, but there's been no guy on guy or girl on girl.  I suppose that's next. 
• This was followed by a debate about the gender of Big Bird from Sesame Street.  The jury is still out. What's not up for debate is that Miss Piggy is the official ass-kicker of the Muppets.
• At the start of our road-trip, I challenged my friend with the task of writing a poem about our adventure.  It was decided that a haiku would be most appropriate (you know, since it doesn't have to rhyme, and it's super short).  But no one delivered, so now I present for your poetry reading pleasure, the following:

Christmas lights to see

big time Chickasha failure

better luck next year

A Kelly Clarkson Concert, AKA, My Company Christmas Party!!!

On Saturday night, Milton and I attended my company Christmas party along with a couple of my friends who love to crash soirees.  There were about 4,500 people there, so it was kind of an event.  Plus, Kelly Clarkson performed.  I've been told, by like everyone, that this kind of company Christmas party is not typical.  I sort of remember the days of going to work Christmas parties where I was happy if I didn't end up with old socks in the dirty Santa gift exchange.  Glad those days are over. 

It was such a fun party and a great excuse to get all dressed up!

Don't know if you can tell, but Kelly Clarkson is singing in the background.

My friend procured all manner of flashing light necklaces and rings for us from the tables scattered around the venue.  She said they made us brave, which must be true, because I actually danced for a bit once the whole event shifted to a nightclub feel.  Milton did not dance, but that doesn't mean he escaped humiliation.  I made Milton pose for some cheesy portraits at some of the many photo booths.  

This one takes me right back to 1994 - our mothers will love it!

Needless to say, the car ride to the party was a lot more chill than the car ride home.  Milton is a good sport.  Not every guy would be interested in escorting 3 super slightly drunk girls home. Actually, on second thought, that sounds like every frat boy's fantasy. 

Meet (the last of) the Parents!!!!

We wrapped up our weekend by having lunch with Milton's dad and stepmom on Sunday. Coincidentally, his stepmom and my mom are both named Jana.  And they are both school teachers. And that's probably where the similarities end, but that's okay. This was the last set of parents I needed to meet.  Milton still hasn't met my parents, so that's a blog post for another day.  We met them at Cheddars in Midwest City, and I'm happy to say everything went very well.  I'd like to think that's because of my sparkling personality, but it probably has more to do with the fact that Milton's stepmom ordered a margarita the size of a baby's bathtub.

I'm sure it's 5 o'clock somewhere...