This is a risky topic. It makes me want to throw up just thinking of you all reading about this subject in association with my name – especially since now you can probably google “is Annie Parsons on eHarmony?” Nevertheless, I want to talk about internet dating.

Not necessarily FOR ME. Just IN GENERAL.

Thoughts? Comments? Good idea? Bad idea? Worthwhile? Desperate? Genius?

And JUST FOR THE RECORD, I am not thinking about signing up, so don’t go looking for my profile on Match.com – although, let’s be honest, I could probably throw together a riveting profile [*rolleyes*, for all of you literalists out there]. I’m just curious to know what you, my esteemed readers, think of the concept. I’m intrigued by your thoughts, in the same way I might be if I asked about, say, the best way to barbecue a pork chop. Not something I’m looking to do anytime in the foreseeable future, but who knows, WHAT ABOUT SOMEDAY?

So. Opinions?

By the way, I have it on good authority – mine – that I have some of the coolest, smartest, most date-worthy blog readers in the land, so just think: your thoughts and comments could help contribute to what might become the internet’s PREMIER source of wisdom about internet dating (i.e. the comment section of this blog entry). Together, we can change the world… wide web.

I have been sitting here for almost 4 hours, trying to write something. Anything. It doesn’t need to be a blog, it doesn’t need to be a song – but could I just find the right words to communicate something? My creativity seems to have ground to a halt.

However, here is what I know today:

1) I am incredibly happy to see fall attire showing up in department stores and boutiques. I have not had expendable income for some time, and so I don’t expect that I’ll be getting my grubby little mitts on any new clothes anytime soon. But just the sight of light-weight sweaters, muted colors, and “transition pieces” gives me hope that the autumn is (slowly, painfully) on its way. THANK YOU GOD.

2) The other day, I found myself casually chatting with Kix Brooks about his recent experience running with the bulls. A few hours later, I baked cookies for the ex-cons across the street. When I moved here, there was no way for me to know what sorts of people would be brought into my life. But I have been delightedly surprised by the variety.

3) There are billboards next to the Nashville Zoo boasting “Tim Macaw!” and “Zebra McEntire!”

4) I have not been to Seattle for over 3 months now, which is the longest in 8 years I’ve gone without a visit. I have no current plans for a visit, and no resources to make a trip happen. It makes me so sad, especially when I think of breathable air. I have to live there again at some point. When it comes down to it, Seattle is home. Seattle will always be home.

5) I am grateful for my little buddy’s life, and hopeful for his future.

6) I have another show lined up for next week – which means that I’d better get busy practicing my guitar. I can’t play the same songs again! Oh, the stress…

7) Are my brother and sister-in-law rocking the house these days, or what?

8) I am feeling ready to end my much-longer-than-anticipated stint as The Temptress. But I will only take another job if it’s a good fit. Does anyone want to hire me? I’m like a Swiss Army Knife – I can do whatever you need me to do.

9) Sarah came and got her bed yesterday, so I am reduced to sleeping on an air mattress (not this one) until further notice. It’s not so bad. It’s like fancy camping. This morning, I drank my coffee in bed while watching an episode of “Felicity” on my laptop. So, really fancy camping.

10) I really love horses. I think that most little girls go through a “horse phase” – usually sometime between the “doll phase” and the “boy phase.” I went through the “boy phase,” and am weirded out to say that I THINK I CAME OUT OF IT. No more “boy phase” – too much drama. Back to horses.

Lately, I have been made acutely aware of a certain discord in romantic relationships between people of my generation. Now, I am not currently dating anyone. However, these observations have come from my own experiences as well as those around me – I’m not pointing the finger at any one person, or any one gender, for that matter. I’m just going to share my thoughts, simple as they may be.

If you’re feeling particularly sensitive today, maybe you should take some deep breaths before reading this. Are you ready? Consider yourself warned.

I have noticed that most humans are looking for fulfillment. In my experience, women generally look for that fulfillment in the context of relationship, while men generally look for that fulfillment in the context of autonomy.

I said generally. Stop bristling.

So when men and women interact, and coexist, and begin to let their guard down with each other, generally a conflict rises out of the tension between what they are each looking toward for fulfillment: the woman tends to look to the man, while the man tends to look away. The woman asks, “Do you love me? Do you think I’m beautiful? Am I worth it to you?” And the man says, “I can’t be responsible for you. I’m not ready to commit. I need to be free.”

The man sees the woman as needy. The woman sees the man as an asshole.

I propose that we need to stop looking toward the wrong things for fulfillment in the context of romantic relationships. Women need to stop expecting the man to fulfill her. Men need to stop looking toward independence to fulfill him.

Again. GENERALLY.

Women, we need to stop asking the hubba-hubba man to dictate our worth. If the God of the universe created us, and knows us inside and out, and calls us worthy and beautiful and captivating, then honestly, what else do we need? A man is just a man. He’s never going to be enough to fulfill us – it’s unfair to expect that of him. And a man’s opinion of us – favorable or otherwise – happens to have absolutely no bearing on our worth. So maybe we should just start trusting that our worth is already determined, and nothing can ever change that. Let’s rest in the fact that we are LOVED, and move forward into our relationships with confidence. We’ve been watching too much of “The Notebook.”

And men, maybe it’s time that you stop looking toward experiences and autonomy and wild adventures to fulfill that hole inside. Being in a healthy relationship with a good woman will not be an emasculating thing – in fact, some of the most honorable men I know have told me that their marriages have been the biggest and best adventure that one could possibly embark on. That restless ache inside of you is not going to be fulfilled by freedom or the mountains or the ability to sow your oats or a lack of responsibility. That hole is only filled when we ask God, “Who do you say I am?” I have watched too many men turn their back on good, substantial women, for fear of being “tied down.”

What do I know? Am I hypocritical? I’m just a 25-year old single girl who, trust me, does NOT believe these things easily. I want a man to come and sweep me off my feet and tell me that I am beautiful and that he will never, ever leave me. I really want that – and I have asked for it and expected it. But as a result, I have been severely disappointed and deeply hurt by numerous guys. It has felt unfair. It has left me tempted to launch into bitter diatribes at weddings, and bridal showers, and every time I get another freaking Save-the-Date card in the mail. I am definitely a person in process.

But I invite you to be a person in process alongside me. Because the way that it’s going isn’t working.

Yesterday, I spent upwards of 5 hours shredding documents at my work. I filled 6 Hefty bags full of confetti, and succeeded without getting a single paper cut. I only jammed the shredder once, and wound up completely sweaty from the heat of the hulking machine. At financial companies, they don’t mess around with their shredders – they invest in high-powered, serious beasts.

And so, feeling incredibly satisfied from my completion of the monumental shredding task, I was reminded that I had a stack of papers at home that I have been meaning to shred. I brought them in today, ready to feed them to the grating teeth of the destroyer. Some old bank statements, credit card applications, and…

Some letters. Letters from ex-boyfriends.

I’ve had this stack of letters for a while. While dating each of these guys, I saved cards and notes, and printed out certain emails, positive that these words were going to be important memories to share with our hypothetical-someday-grandchildren.

I don’t know a girl who doesn’t, on some level, think this way.

When I moved out of my apartment in Seattle last summer, I purged myself of so many unnecessary things. But for some reason, I bundled up these letters. I couldn’t get rid of them. They reminded me of the existence of love – and that maybe it could happen for me again.

Recently, I started feeling like maybe these letters – filled with once-meaningful, but what I now see as cheap words and empty promises – were weighing me down. Why was I holding on to them?

I mean, really: these are the same guys that propelled me to write a song that ends, “I don’t have much heart left to break.” Why keep any – any – remembrance of them? Good riddance, right?

So I brought them to work today. To shred the hell out of them.

But before I did, I took one last read-through.

And call me crazy, but I cannot destroy these letters.

Some of the kindest words ever bestowed on me are in these letters. I had to re-read certain paragraphs, baffled by the pure goodness and generosity and love that had, at one point, been poured out onto me. I had forgotten how these words felt. These words bring life. And though I am not expecting a resurrection of romance with any of these guys, these letters make my heart believe in the connection between two humans. They remind me that I actually do have a lot of heart left to break.

And that’s a good thing.

Maybe someday, I will shred, burn, bury these letters. But not today. I can’t do it today.

Dear Men of Seattle,

I have spent 7 years in our fair city, and I am the first to admit that throughout this time, I have had high hopes that one of you might wind up being “The One.” When I am honest with myself, what I really, ultimately dream of in life is to marry a good man and have a family and LOVE. I have “dated” a few of you, and “spent time” with many, always with an observant eye. I hoped that a couple of you might take; however, over time, every last one of you has, for one reason or another, been ripped away like a giant cosmic Band-Aid.

It’s okay. I have learned valuable lessons from you. For example:

* A man who makes good guacamole is hard to find.
* The speed limit on Lake Union is 7 knots. And the boat police are vigilant.
* The most unromantic birthday gift in the universe is an iron and a tube of wood glue.
* Whiskey can lead to regrettable text messages.
* Nachos and beer can be just as good as lobster and wine, depending on the company.
* Following a first kiss, the suitable response is never, “Well, I can check that off my to-do list.”
* After a Seahawks loss, the minimum recovery time is 36 hours.
* Insecurity results in crazy, inexcusable behavior (this one is directed solely at myself).
* It is possible to be truly, genuinely excited for a newly affianced ex-boyfriend.
* The unexpected resurfacing of a hometown boy can do a heart much good.
* Dramamine: better safe than sorry.
* Ex-boyfriends always get new girlfriends.
* Sometimes, a kiss is the best option. And sometimes… it’s not.
* Sometimes, honesty is the best policy. And sometimes… it isn’t.
* Sometimes, I can be friends with an ex. And sometimes… I can’t.
* I am not always right.
* But I usually am.

And most importantly, I have learned:

* I am capable of great big love.

I’ll admit it: I am a romantic. And even though I have not found the right one yet, I am hopeful you are out there somewhere. But for now, as of Monday, I am leaving this city that I have come to call “home” in order to do something else for awhile.

Perhaps we will meet in Seattle again. Until then, all the best to you. Thanks for the good times and for the bad, for I am grateful for anything that helps my spirit grow.

Peace out,
Annie

For those of you who have not had the pleasure, allow me to introduce you to one of my favorite friends, the delectable Ms. Miranda Drost.

Miranda and I have been on a simultaneous long-time quest to become the “Coolest Women Alive.” We are continually congratulating each other on our moves of bad-assery, from excellent haircuts to simply telling it like it is. She is the only person I know who walks as fast as I do – a 6 mile lap around Lake Union? An hour and twenty minutes, tops. Many a time, she has come to my rescue when I have been drowning in tears and red wine. We are each other’s cheering squad, fan club, and “cooler than a boyfriend” companion. She makes strong Mojitos (my hero), drives a Mazda 3 (double-hero), and has bitch-slapped a lecher at the Matador (cue the confetti). I recommended my financial advisor to her, and in turn, she convinced me that a bikini wax was worth a try. What are friends for, anyway?

Miranda once asked me, “Between the two of us, who would be Oprah, and who would be Gayle?” I answered immediately: “I would be Gayle. You are definitely Oprah.” Miranda has always struck me as the go-getter, the hot verbal genius slaying all the men, the charismatic wise one who belongs in the spotlight; I am content to be the trusty sidekick. So you can imagine my surprise when she responded, “NO! YOU would be Oprah – I’m just the tag-along friend.”

What? Are you serious? I have never thought of myself as a star, and if given the opportunity, will always choose to be the flower against the wall as opposed to the girl center stage. For crying out loud, why else would I want to be a backup singer?

But you know, in the dazzling unremarkable film “The Holiday,” Iris says, “You’re supposed to be the leading lady in your own life.” And in a way, I think she’s right – we are only given our own lives, and our own selves. This is it. This is what I have been given, and this is what I have. I should wholeheartedly pursue the passions of my heart, and open my eyes to the everyday gifts that surround me… without comparing myself to others, and without hiding behind insecurity. I, as Annie, am not perfect… but I do have good things to offer. And I’m always going to be a better “me” than anyone else.

But Miranda would still be Oprah. :)

I was eating pho with my friend Elisha when she confessed that she had wanted to set me up on a date with a friend of hers. After describing him as being an awesome, delightful guy, she stopped and thought. “But,” she paused, “He might be a little too clean cut for you.”

Imagining a crew cut and plaid shorts, I asked, “Oh, because he’s in the Air Force?”

Elisha hesitated again.

“Ooooooohhh,” I said, as it dawned on me. “You mean MORALLY.” Yes. Yes, she did. It’s good to know that I am known as someone who, when it comes to virtue, will require a certain amount of compromise when it comes to a mate. However, as a certain pastor (who shall remain nameless) recently said to me, “You have to know that during an argument, you can feel free to tell your husband to F off.” [Before I get hate-mail from men, please know that I am being fairly sardonic here. Passably.]

My conversation with Elisha got me thinking about my deal-breakers when it comes to men. Now, I am not looking to date. As many of you know, I have been pretty emotionally unavailable for several months now, and do not foresee that changing any time soon. To be honest, I believe that a boyfriend would only cramp my style and my new-found sense of purpose. But on the inevitable day when I am ready to jump back into the cruel and awkward dating pool, it would be helpful to know what I am looking for, and more importantly, what I am not looking for.

Listing deal-breakers is dangerous, because you never know who you might fall for. Lord knows I used to think that Dungeons & Dragons would be a no-can-do, but it’s amazing what becomes endearing when you’re in love. However, I am fairly confident that the following should serve as the red alert that screams “run like the plague.”

1) Hummers or tiny sports cars. Both are indicative of a larger issue of the ego.
2) Cat lovers. I believe that cat lovers and dog lovers are mutually exclusive – one cannot truly be both – and my allergies are severe. I would rather live my life with a Bernese Mountain dog than with the feeling that I have swallowed shards of glass.
3) Disrespect towards wait-staff and servers. I don’t care if you didn’t get the table that you wanted. I don’t care if your dressing didn’t come on the side. There is nothing more unattractive than a man who is discourteous… except, of course,
4) Rotten teeth. I learned this one the hard way.
5) The last name “Crannie.” For obvious reasons.

I feel lonely. Kind of all the time.

I am learning to look at this as not a bad thing – but it’s taken a long time for me to reach this perspective. As a little girl, I always had a best friend – that one major person to whom I had undying loyalty, and who had the unspoken and understood privilege of access to every area of my life. No secrets kept, no socializing without the other, and the same was expected from the other person. Utter devotion.

There is safety that comes along with a best friend; you never have to go it alone.

This best friend figure has shifted several times throughout my life – sometimes a girl, sometimes a woman twice my age, sometimes a boyfriend – but as I’ve gotten older, the role has changed. I have several very close friends, and yet none of them fill the role that I became accustomed to as a child; in short, several people are “best” and no one is “best.” I do not have that constant companion, the person that I share every secret of my soul with.

But I think that’s okay.

The more humans that I come into contact with, I realize more and more that everyone just wants to belong – it is our greatest need, our greatest desire. Everyone longs to be known, to be loved and appreciated, and for a place called “home.” I feel it so acutely, and often ask the same question that I would wager that we all ask: “Does anyone really see me?”

Currently, I am in a very interesting, uncertain time in my life. I am asking some major questions about who I am, what I want, where I belong, what I am meant to do, what I am good at, what I love, and where I am headed. I don’t know. I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know. I just don’t know. I have never felt simultaneously more certain and uncertain about my worth, my giftings, and my direction. I wish someone could come along and just tell me, just say, “This is who you are and this is what you’re good at – and this is what you were meant for. Now go do it.”

I feel lonely.

But maybe loneliness isn’t such a bad thing. Maybe it isn’t something to be avoided. We are so quick to numb ourselves these days – avoid bad, scary feelings at all costs by “fixing” the problem. Feel sad? Go shopping. Eat a bunch of food. Drink away the pain. Seek thrills. Hook up with some stranger. Run the other way. Slam the door in the face of whatever ails you. But maybe we are wrong; maybe when we feel sad and lonely, we are supposed to just go ahead and feel sad and lonely.

If I had a “best friend,” I’m pretty sure that I would still get lonely. If I was dating someone, or married, or had babies, or had the perfect career, or drove an Audi, or was famous, or had a ton of money, or was insanely smart… I would still get lonely. There is a place inside each of us that will never be reached by anyone or anything else, no matter how much these things resonate with our souls. This is the place that keeps us seeking God; I think we were designed this way on purpose.

Maybe loneliness is simply an indication of our uniqueness. Maybe loneliness acts as a catalyst to lead us to change the world. Maybe loneliness drives us to change, and to seek out adventure. Maybe loneliness makes us free.

I don’t know. But maybe?