I know this is late, but better late than never. Right?
Unless it’s your period, then you’re probably better off just taking the plan B and moving on with your life.
Disclaimer:
‡I’d like to take a moment to note in this disclaimer that this article contains comedic and somewhat explicit details of my sexual endeavors. So if you’re related to me or have to look me in the eye at work - you’ve been warned.
Despite my love for Canva and all things graphic design, I decided this written, platform would be a better one to relay to you how my ‘love’ life went over the last twelve months.
*Noting 'love' is in parenthesis because I have yet to feel actual romantic love for another humane in my life, perhaps in 2024 (although I am doubtfully optimistic).
So here’s a look at my ‘love’ life the last year:
52 Dates
34 *First Dates
8 Smooches
7 Hookups
3 Ugly cries
1 Relationship
1 Situationship
Obviously there is a direct correlation on if we kiss what happens next, so if you’re lucky enough to make it that far; to quote Effie Trinket: “the odds are ever in your favor”
Let’s take a minute to acknowledge that for 6 months I was in a hospital bed, so your girl was putting in some work.
I’m shooting about ¼ from the free throw line if you make it past the first date (if ya know what I mean).
It’s sex, sex is what I mean.
Some will call that loose, some will call it prude, I call it whatever the fuck I want: life.
It’s a tough crowd out here in the dating world. Especially when some of y’all are out there being all happy and in love. My one friend just flew 1,698 miles for his three month anniversary.
Let’s read that again.
I don’t think my ex and I even celebrated our three months, let alone our 6, and we lived a 5 minute walk from each other.
I guess what they say is true: “absence makes the heart grow fond AF”
(may have slightly altered the way they say it because I’m so ~ hip ~ like all the youths).
Honestly I started the year out pretty strong, I was in a healthy, committed relationship that had been going nine months strong. Then, as some of you are so effervescently aware, I got the news that I have stage IV cancer.
Before you ask, no, my ex-boyfriend did not break up with me because I was sick.
Honestly, slightly offended that’s where a lot of my friends heads first went when I told them he and I were no longer together.
Like just because I'm a cancer girl now it’s so hard to believe I initiated the breakup?
I actually made the choice to end the relationship because I didn’t see us ending up together and did not want to go through something as big as cancer with someone I wasn’t going to marry.
My sex drive as well as my overall capacity for empathy had been somewhere else for a while, so in all honesty towards the end I wasn’t being a great partner, which also wasn’t fair to him. And if you know me, you know I strive for my empathy and act of service. So when I care about someone and am unable to deliver that, it’s really hard for me.
For months I had zero interest in getting out of bed, let alone getting ready for a date or the inevitable amount of conversation/effort that would ensue from said date.
But as time went on I needed a reason to want to get out of the house. So I redownloaded Hinge.
Honestly - getting back into dating after everything I went through was honestly really scary, and I’m the kind’ve person that books a sky diving trip without a second thought. In my younger years (because I feel old as shit) I used to struggle a lot with body dysmorphia and overall self-worth, and had finally found myself in a place where I loved who I was (both inside and out)...
... and then:
I had to shave my head because my hair started falling out in clumps everyday and anything I ate would instantly make me throw up. So yeah maybe I could put on a wig (on the days I was barely lucid), but try getting through a dinner date when just a bite of the breadstick at Olive Garden would send you into a vomit inducing episode.
Not to say that cancer patients aren’t beautiful, but it’s hard to feel all fun and flirty when you’re bloated because you haven’t shit in five days due to the chemo frying the nerve supply to your gut, making a movement nearly impossible despite the copious amounts of laxatives you take and inevitably throw right back up.
I still remember my first date post-diagnosis. I was still in the midst of my treatment, my head had been shaved for a few weeks and my eyelashes had just begun to fall out.
Now I’ve never been a big makeup girl (a story my sister can corroborate), but mascara was the one cosmetic product I consistently used. Now I couldn’t even do that. So I had a bad wig, no eyelashes and the skin tone of a ghost (luckily my date was ginger).
My parents dropped me off at Condados Tacos because I was too physically weak to drive.
I’m sure you’re wondering:
Why the hell was I going on a date anyway in that state?
I was still a human-being, not just that but a woman.
Not only did I want to feel wanted, but also desired a reason to get out of the house and talk to someone other than my mom or my dog.
Walking into that restaurant I didn’t know what to expect. Honestly a big part of me thought this guy would take one look at me and leave (which looking back was maybe a little bit dramatic). But when I saw him sitting there in Condados with a bouquet of flowers I wanted to cry.
You may be surprised to learn that I’m a pretty emotional gal. I mask a lot of that with sarcastic remarks and little jabs, but deep down I’m a big bundle of feelings, just takes some time to see that side of me.
…Or 3-5 helpings of tequila…
But back to the date:
He didn’t know me or my story, honestly we had matched on Hinge and only exchanged a few messages. We talked for hours and the entire time I felt so comfortable with him, the both of us shared intimate details about our lives: the good, the bad and the ugly.
Something I hadn’t experienced with a man who was a platonic friend of mine in a long time.
When I inevitably told him I was currently battling cancer he asked me the most genuine questions, none out of his own self-interest or intentions for where we would go past this date, but rather out of genuine worry for my health.
Since then this is news I’ve had to share on a lot of dates. Although the vast majority were after I had finished treatment, which (I’m sure to your utmost surprise) is taken quite differently than someone who is still undergoing chemo.
I realized after dinner that I was 100% not in a place to be actively dating. The thing is though, as obvious a choice as that may have seemed, it was one I needed to make for myself.
Going out that night, it wasn’t about him.
Despite him being a sweet guy and certified cutie. That date was so much more. Going out showed me that no matter what is going on in your life, there will be will people out there willing to show you love, regardless of what you’re going through.
I’ve had a lot of different reactions from men when I tell them about my recent remission. The most common is a high five, followed by “you’re good now right?”. Less out of a place of a genuine concern for my well-being and more of a “shit is this girl gonna croak in a week?”.
Maybe I’m wrong on that interpretation, but I’d like to think I’m pretty good at reading people. Honestly, sometimes just to fuck with a guy I’ll tell him I only have a couple months left just to watch their pupils dilate a little.
Of course I quickly set the record straight because I’m not THAT much of an insensitive bitch.
I’ll have you know I could be a lot more jaded than I am. Do you have any idea how many guys asked me on dates and were in the midst of making plans, but the second they saw my bald head on Instagram unmatched almost immediately? I’m talking cut it off cold turkey.
I get it. Not everyone wants to have to worry about their date's hair falling off when they’re hooking up, I'm not dumb.
But I would never treat a man like that, and I literally think men are the worst.
Once when I was seeing a guy and we were talking about the trajectory of our relationship, on the topic of red flags, he chose that to be the time he asked the likelihood of my cancer coming back.
Imagine you spend half a year trying not to die, beat the hell out of that shit, and some twenty-four year-old has the nerve to classify something that was completely out of your control as a ‘red flag’.
No, him asking that was the red flag.
And I even get it too and sympathize. Who the hell knows how I would react if I was seeing a guy and shortly after found out he had cystic fibrosis or some other serious ailment, especially when you’ve never been around it.
Which is why communication is so important. I’m not afraid to turn a man down or communicate that he doesn’t meet the needs I'm looking for in a partner. Honestly, in my book ghosting is just childish and rude.
But I think it also depends on the interactions you’ve had with the person, let’s be honest, if you only ever met them once for an hour and a half over coffee (in my opinion), no, you don’t owe them a text laying out why you’re not interested. But also I’m not going to say communicating with them would hurt, because if they’re a chronic over-thinker (like yours truly) they may waste so much of their time wondering what ‘they did’ - when in reality it just wasn’t a good fit.
I will say that’s one thing that I think has been beautiful about dating as a cancer survivor: you get to hear how prevalent it is and other people’s stories.
One night this guy from Tinder came over with some wine and we sat at my kitchen table and talked for hours. Initially I hadn’t planned on mentioning my cancer - he was from Canada and only in the states for one more day. I’m not one to hide it, but also don’t wear it on my sleeve. It’s part of my story, not a personality trait.
But it came up that I had been in the hospital for a while and I decided to clear the air. After a moment of silence he takes off his hat, revealing a bald head, and says, “me too”.
At that moment I didn’t know how to respond. Now thinking back to it, that interaction brings me tears of joy and gratitude. Honestly before that moment it was a pretty average interaction and once we realized what we had both gone through it was like this wall was broken down. Don’t get me wrong it wasn’t some ‘A Fault in Our Stars’ moment, but it was something I know we both found very special.
Moral of the story:
Dating sucks. It’s fun for a while, then you catch feelings, maybe you lose feelings or just end up confused. I was sure what I wanted for a while and now I’m back to wondering if that’s even accurate.
But I know I’ll figure it out one of these days - and so will you most likely.
All in all I’m kind’ve tired and don’t want to write more (maybe I’ll add to this later on in the week).
As always, thank you for letting me waste a fraction of your Monday..
But also let’s be honest, what else were you going to do for the last six minutes? Go through TikTok? Bang out a quick one?
(ladies I wish we could do that in six minutes)
At least with this you can say you read something instead of mindlessly scrolling searching for the slightest hint of dopamine. As for the second, I don’t think I’m at the point where I can compare the quality of my writing to an orgasm - but maybe one day!
Xoxo Mild Girl
P.S Want to hear more about my own dating life/views on dating? Lmk in the comments or my DM's
P.S.S If you hated this also lmk, tell me what you want to read (or fuck off - either works)