Snatched: I Think I’m Gonna Like It Here

Yesterday, I had my movement assessment at Mark Fisher Fitness. In my mind, I envisioned the assessment to go something like this – I would have to do about 290,138 bicep curls with ever increasing weight so that they knew how much I could lift and assign me the properly weighted kettle bell.

Obviously, it wasn’t like that at all.

The movement assessment was more of an observation of my range of motion (not strength). I was glad that it wasn’t the scenario that I had fully formulated in my brain. [Though I was horribly embarrassed when I struggled to do a push up. Upper body strength is not my… um… strength.]

Every single person that I met was SO kind and wonderful and funny, and it made me even MORE excited to get started.

Except.

I’m having anxiety, also.

After having completed Sober January and being essentially quarantined for the month of April, I’ve had a realization: my emotional well-being begins to deteriorate when I can’t leave my apartment and be social. In New York [or, at the very least, in MY New York], being social means going out for meals and beverages. However, if I want to get the most out of my Snatched experience, those are two things that I am going to have to take a long, hard look at.

FOOD: First of all, I’m a terrible cook. Second, as is the upside-down nature of New York, it’s usually cheaper to eat out than to prepare your own food. Stupid. Third, the food in this city is just. so. damn. good. I suppose an option for the socialization problem here is to invite friends over for food we prepare ourselves. Then the food is social and controlled, I guess.

ALCOHOL: I mean. This is hard. I’m just going to have to say no. I’m perfectly happy to go out and NOT drink, but… it’s not that fun to be the only sober person when everyone else is drunk, AND I just get tired earlier when I’m not drinking. Possible solution? Err… I’ll get back to you on that one.

Anyway, all of this is to say that I’m worried that I’m going to become an emotional wreck because my new, healthier eating and drinking habits will keep me from socializing.

Logically, I KNOW that this is ridiculous. AND I’ll have lots of new friends from Snatched who are all experiencing the same thing – sober friends who want to go ape shit on some grilled chicken breast while guzzling water.

I think I just need to make an effort to expand my definition of socialization. Some options I’m currently considering?

Improv 101 at UCB
Acapella Group or Choir
Cake Decorating Class [This should probably wait until after Snatched…]
Guitar Lessons
Sewing Class
Rowboats in Central Park
Picnics
Museums [I totally want to see this whale exhibit!]
Writing Meet-Up Group
Bicycle Riding
Suburban Excursion Days [Target. Home Goods. Nordstrom. Done.]
Governor’s Island Adventures

[Any and all further suggestions greatly appreciated!]

I think the key here is to just have a plan [for food, for drinking/not drinking, for social life]. Then I’m not stuck in one of these scenarios:

“Ah! I didn’t pack a lunch and the ONLY OPTION is Pommes Frites!” [OH, THE HORROR!]

“Ah! I didn’t make any plans and now I’m stuck at home with nothing to do but organize my socks!”

“Ah! There is a whiskey beverage in front of me and I don’t know if I’ve budgeted for it calorically!”

I’m sort of a fly-by-the-seat-of-my-pants type of gal. This will probably all be a good exercise in seeing how the other half lives.

One thing is for certain, though: every single person that I’ve met so far on my Snatched journey has made me even more grateful to be embarking on the experience.

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OkCupid: The Art of Subtlety

I received a message from a suitor whose profile waxed poetic about being a mama’s boy. 

NotSubtle: I like short girls and you have amazing boobs. I’d love to meet you.

Me: Haha umm… thanks? Did your mother approve that message ;)?

NotSubtle: Well played. So where in NYC do you live, miss California?

Me: East Village. You?

NotSubtle: Upper west side. Perhaps one of us could make the cross-city trip to hang out one of these days.

Listen, NotSubtle. Thanks but no thanks. While I’m sure that you looked at my pictures before you read my profile, it’s sort of expected that you at least pretend that you are messaging me because I am so witty and intriguing and hilarious, and NOT just because you’re looking for a good tittyfuck. 

Maybe it’s time for me to explore other avenues. There are tons of straight men taking sewing and cupcake decorating classes, right? 

OkCupid: I’m a Hustler, Baby

On OkCupid, everyone is trying to make a dollar out of fifteen cents [or $3 off of a free dating website as the case may be].

Scenario One: OkCupid Wants Your Money

OkCupid is free.

Unless.

Unless you want to be able to “browse anonymously while still seeing your visitors!” Then you gotta cough up the funds: three dollars per month. [I’m still not exactly sure how this works if BOTH involved parties are paying the three dollars. I think OkCupid is running a scam here.]

Anyway, there is no way OKC is collecting $3 from me, so I just browse openly. People can see when I view their profiles. I can see when they view mine. I don’t really care that much. [I could also browse anonymously for free, but then I couldn’t see any of my visitors… and what’s the fun in that?]

On Tuesday at 11:23 am, a gentleman from OkCupid sent me the following message.

OverEager: hey there would you like to chat and see where it goes from there ??

I was busy during the day. At approximately 9:05:30 pm, I finally arrived home, powered up the ol’ laptop, read OverEager’s message, and viewed his profile.

At 9:06 pm, while I was STILL BROWSING HIS PROFILE, I received the following message.

OverEager: Any interest ?

1. This is what I get for not paying the $3 per month. If I was browsing anonymously, he couldn’t have sent me a follow-up stalker message.

2. No, sir. Now that you’ve revealed yourself to be CRAZY, I have no interest.

3. What’s with the spaces before the final punctuation in your messages?

Scenario Two: People On OkCupid Want Your Money

I recently exchanged the following messages with a gentleman on OKC.

OKCEntrepreneur: Hey! So… Want to help me win twenty bucks? My buddy and I have a bet that you are actually a dude. 

Me: Haha WHAT?! I can assure you that I am most definitely a lady! What makes you say that?

OKCEntrepreneur: Damn. Well I lost… It’s cause no girl writes as little as you did on your profile. Barren profiles are a guy thing. 

Me: Yeah… I guess it is a little sparse. It probably needs some editing… especially now that people are accusing me of being a dude! [For the record, my profile is NOT that barren.]

OKCEntrepreneur: Well… We could meet up and I could give you some pointers. You could buy me an ice cream in exchange for my expertise. 

1. Huh?

2. No. Really. What?

3. I thought you were trying to find out if we might be a good match, but then maybe you were selling me online dating profile consulting services?

4. Dude. You are clearly strapped for cash. First you are making twenty dollar bets about gender, and then you’re trying to swindle me for free ice cream. Surely there are more lucrative and stable options available to you.

Maybe we just can’t help it. Pop culture taught us all to be hustlers from a very young age.

“I’ll trade you a pickle for a nickel!”

“How about two cents?”

OkCupid: LOLz Via Text

A few weeks ago [pre-asthma-inducing-sickness], I was preparing to go on a date with a guy from the OkCupes. He was an attractive, fit gentleman with very short, sort of ginger-y colored hair.

About two hours before our date was set to commence [while I was suffering through a hungover treadmill workout], I received the following text message from him:

So, some people have suggested that my profile pics are ‘misleading’, so I’m sending a more current pic so you can recognize me:

LOLzPic

You guys.

THAT is how to win my heart over.

500 points for hilarity, sir.

Why Can’t We Be Friends?

A few months ago, I decided that I needed new friends.

Now, don’t get it twisted: I have the greatest friends in the whole entire world. Truly. I wouldn’t trade them for a penthouse apartment with a park view [Uh… No. I wouldn’t. I don’t think…].

I just decided that I needed to expand my horizons and perform a world paradigm shift by not limiting myself to what was already known, familiar, comfortable.

I began pursuing friend dates. I texted people who were acquaintances, friends of friends, strangers [uh… maybe I didn’t text strangers], whatever. I was (am?) really trying to put myself out there.

[Incidentally, if you are reading this and you would like to go on a friend date, I am your gal. Text/email/send smoke signals. There’s no sense in having a blog if you can’t whore yourself out for your own pleasure.]

I also decided that it was time to send a friendly text to someone with whom I shared a sort of tumultuous past. I suggested that we do some friendly activity. He suggested that we take a stroll down memory lane. Since I’m a sucker with a capital S, I obliged. [Whatever you’re reading between the lines here, you are correct.]

However, what I REALLY wanted was for us to be pals [and I told him as much]. I have an embarrassingly small amount of straight male friends. I’m looking to rectify that situation.

So, this past weekend I texted him again suggesting a friendly drink. And by friendly drink, I ACTUALLY meant a friendly drink, NOT a “friendly drink (and then we’ll go back to your apartment and bone)”.

He wrote back that he was “sorta seeing someone” [woof… “sorta”?] and so he didn’t think that was possible.

Me: But I thought we were gonna be friends!

Him: We are friends!

Me: So then there’s no harm in us getting a friendly drink!

[He didn’t respond.]

You guys.

Is this not a possibility? Was Harry right? Can men and women not be friends? Does the sex part ALWAYS get in the way?

I feel like I missed a day of LifeSchool.

The reaction of everyone that I know is: DUH. Meanwhile, I’m just sputtering in the corner like, “But… but… but…”

OkCupid: More Ambitious*

When you are perusing the peeps on the OkCupes, the site offers suggestions of other profiles you might want to check out. On the right side of your screen appears a series of people’s profile pictures, their usernames, and a little blurb about how they compare to the option currently on your screen. It says things like “More Adventurous”; “Less Romantic”; “More Old-Fashioned”; “Less Independent”.

OkCupid has made these judgments based on their algorithm. This algorithm includes questions like “Do you believe in dinosaurs?”, so you can only imagine how accurate the algorithm is. [I didn’t know that the existence of dinosaurs was up for debate. What exactly am I looking at when I go to the Natural History Museum?]

The algorithm is also based on some highly personal questions – “How often do you masturbate?”; “Will you allow your partner to kiss you after performing oral sex on you?”… you get the idea. [I’m pretty sure that the questions are user generated – that is the only possible explanation for all of the grammatical and spelling errors… and the dinosaur question.]

OkCupid gives you the option to hide your answers, but you can’t see how others responded if your answer is hidden. For me, I feel like I am put in a strange position of revealing highly intimate details about myself and my thoughts to the world (things that even **I** would hesitate to reveal!), but feeling strangely anonymous because I haven’t met the people who are reading my answers.

Anyway, I recently received the following message [re-printed here in its entirety]:

Is it weird that I found your profile as a recommendation on another girls page with the label “less desiring of sex”?

Uh.

What.

WHAT?

No. It’s not weird. But it IS weird to send me that email.

You could have said any of these things, and they would have been better:

I saw your profile and I was intrigued. 

What’s cookin’, good lookin’. [A friend of mine got two messages within 5 minutes of each other from two different people that BOTH said this.]

How much does an elephant weigh? Enough to break the ice. [Yep. Got that one.]

What’s a scrub?

Hey. [Yes. Even “hey” is a preferable message to what you sent me.]

Apparently, the algorithm has dismissed all necessity for not being a damn fool. [In case it’s not clear, I don’t think that their algorithm is very accurate.]

On a somewhat related note, if I am reading a gentleman’s profile and they mention sex in either the Six Things I Couldn’t Live Without or I Spend A Lot of Time Thinking About… sections, I think to myself “UGH! HOW CRASS CAN YOU BE?” However. If they fail to mention sex in either of those sections, I think to myself “You’re a fucking liar” OR “You have no sex drive, nothankyousomuch.”

There is no winning, people. I might as well just stay home and watch videos of people popping zits on youtube.

*For the record, ambition is apparently my number one trait on the OkCupid algorithm. I don’t disagree with that. 

As Soon As Possible


When you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible.

Confession time: In my sickness-induced, week-long blogging hiatus, I’ve fallen in love. I can sense your disappointment as you all lament the end of my OkCupid journey.

Never fear.

There is no man involved in this scenario. [Well. There ARE men. Men, multiple. And I will be getting sweaty with them. But. Not like that.]

I heard about Mark Fisher Fitness awhile ago and have wanted to do Snatched in 6 Weeks ever since. I’ve stalked every single bit of social media that exists. Their youtube page? Watched all the videos. The before and after pictures? Studied them. Their tumblr? Read it all. Facebook. Twitter. Instagram. Check. Check. Check.

For sundry reasons, I just never signed up. It’s expensive. It’s a HUGE commitment [mentally, physically, alcohol-ly]. I was out of town. Whatever. Insert ALL the excuses <here>. I thought about joining in January. And then I contemplated joining in March. But I didn’t.

Against all financially sound reasoning, I have signed up for the May/June edition. I hemmed and hawed and discussed it with my therapist. But in the end, I was too excited about it to NOT do it.

And now? Now what? Now I’m sitting at home [still coughing like I have a 2-packs-a-day habit], just WAITING. WAITING until May 13, when all of the things begin. I feel like Harry. I want the rest of my life to start now. And by “rest of my life” I mean my health and hottness. [See. I told you I’ve social-media-stalked MFF within an inch of its life. Maybe we’ll just call it “research” instead of stalking so I sound less lame. Yeah. Research.]

In the meantime, I can’t even bring myself to workout. Walking up the stairs of my building spurs a 10 minute long cough attack. I’m seeing my doctor again tomorrow. Maybe my inability to engage in physical activity right now is furthering my excitment of what is to come.

Here’s to being super healthy, highly fuckable, and possibly winning that damn photo contest. Bring it on, Snatched.