Dear Future Boyfriend

We may not have met yet, but that doesn't mean I'm not preparing for when we do 💗💗💗

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend – I Do… No Seriously, Forever I Do!!!

Some girls grow up dreaming about their wedding day. The white dress, the perfect groom, the Coming to America rose pedal walk way. “She’s Your Queen To Beeeee”… yeah, I am not some girls. Not that I don’t like cute dresses, handsome men and beautiful flowers.  It’s just I kinda never thought I’d get married (don’t worry neither did my mother).  While other girls made wedding collages and fantasized about their perfect day, I cringed on the inside and faked it on the outside. Yes, yes, I cannot wait to be stuffed into an oversize Cinderella dress, with a 10-foot train and a 20 lb. veil for 5 to 10 excruciating hours while my feet throb and my face hurt from flashing a 32 teeth megawatt grimace… I mean smile.  Definitely sounds like a dream, hosted by Freddy Krueger.  Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t cynical because I didn’t think I was marriage material.  I absolutely am. Actually, I’m the finest, most exquisite… the Vicuña of marriage material. It’s just I didn’t really see the point.  Well… that’s not true. I did understand the importance of having one sole emergency contact and not rotating it amongst your three best girlfriends depending on who’s in town. I also understood the possibility of dying alone in one’s home only to have your corpse eaten away by your 12 disloyal cats. No, the reason I never thought I’d get married is because I didn’t make marriage a priority.  When I visualized my life, marriage just didn’t matter.  Of course, I dated and even thought I was in love a time or ten, but I could never see me with that person long term. I was emotionally nearsighted. Actually, I might have been legally blind.  Well, that was until 2020.  When the world was on lockdown and people were fighting in their local Walmart over toilet paper, I was at home snugging with my doggie and wine, ready to ride out the wave of the pandemic.  But as the weeks passed, my wine ran low (kidding it never ran low) and the waves continued, it was actually a check-in call from my 70-year-old dentist that changed my perspective.  One evening, this kind man took a break from a family game of Scrabble to give me a call.  While laughing with his loved ones he grew concerned because he knew I was somewhere alone and single (and probably drunk).  At first, I thought, “Aweee that’s so sweet,” but then instantly I became troubled. As a single woman I could never clear the dinner dishes and enjoy a friendly game of Scrabble with my family.  Mainly because my family consisted of one small dog, but mostly because I’m a horrendous speller (yes Google helped me with that word) and my dog refused to play with me.  It was at that very point, Future (Current) Boyfriend, I knew it was time to find you. 

So how does one find their soulmate or at least someone to go enough of the distance with to qualify for a tax break?  Not sure, but at that point I knew it was time to try.  If the world was coming to an end, I decided I wanted mine to end with a special someone.  Finally, it was time to take dating seriously.  So, I did what any serious dater would do… I updated my Bumble profile.  It had been a while since I’d last been on the site so I needed to refresh my pictures and suspend my disbelief that only unemployed mactors (model/actor – both words used loosely) looking for a part-time relationship and a full-time crash pad, were the only men left on the site.  It was time to get back into the depressing dating cesspool pool of La La Land.  With an open mind and very low expectations I began swiping and to my surprise it took less than a week for me to be sitting across from you, Future (Current) Boyfriend.  Maybe it was your smile (when you dropped your mask), or your laugh, or the way you looked at me, or looked out for me, or perhaps it was your Midwestern roots and the way you stood up when I stood up, or that you asked about my wants, or shared your intentions, or when you suggested I try the bread, or when you ordered me another glass of wine (which is my love language btw), or when you walked closest to the street so I didn’t get mowed down by a truck or a car or a drunk kid cruising the PCH on a scooter, or maybe it was the conversation we shared overlooking the ocean, or the call to your aunt to tell her about me, or when you took my hand and said, “you have old lady hands” and then I laughed and you laughed and we laughed until the sun went down and the moon came up...  Actually, I’m not sure when or why or how and honestly, I don’t care because what I do know is that somewhere in that epic 6-hour first date, despite a pandemic and freezing weather (thank you global warming), I decided I didn’t want this to end.  And thankfully neither did you.  So we kept dating… and dating… and dating until we were both madly in love. And for the first time in my life I thought, “I want to get married.”  Well no, actually that’s not true. What I really thought was, “I want to get married to THIS man!”

We were together less than a year in when you, Future (Current) Boyfriend suggested we take a trip to Hawaii for my birthday.  Despite only a few months of dating, I just KNEW you were going to propose.  According to LA standards, 3 months is equivalent to a decade in relationships. People marry divorce and remarry in less time than our courtship, and I was growing impatient. You have to understand, after writing well over 100 SOS messages to My Future Boyfriend, I’d finally found him. I knew this was the real deal and I was ready for us to begin our happily ever after together. Before leaving, I’d spend weeks shopping online. I wanted The Perfect Outfit to go with My Perfect Proposal from My Perfect Boyfriend.  And as expected, you did not disappoint. After a spa day filled with pampering, you whisked me away to the most luxurious hotel, with an ocean view and tiny mints on our pillows. As we stood on the balcony to enjoy yet another sunset my heart quickened, “Omg it this is just like our first date. He’s gonna pop the question right here.  Damn, I really should have moisturized these old lady hands…” Instead, you cut my fantasy short, reminding me we had dinner reservations in 30 mins.  No worries, I’d been preparing for this moment for months. Faster than a Beyoncé costume change on the Renaissance tour, I was ready to go. Fully glammed in 5-inch heels, with a white summer dress, sporting a subtle (not subtle) train, I hopped in an Uber with My Perfect Boyfriend and headed to a Perfect Dinner for My Perfect Proposal.  But there was no proposal at dinner. Actually, there was no proposal that night at all. The food at that 5-star restaurant was so horrible a homeless man turned his nose up at it. Our after dinner stroll was abruptly interrupted by a downpour of humid island rain. And my beautiful white summer dress was quickly tied into a knot (by prince charming himself) to keep the subtle (not so subtle) train from dragging down the muddy streets. As I sat in a plastic chair replacing my 5-inch impractical heels for hot pink plastic sandals the vision of my Perfect Proposal began melting away, alongside my eyelash glue.  Did I make this all up?  You suggested a simple birthday trip and here I transformed it into some Hallmark proposal.  And now I was left soggy and disappointed with no ring or fiancé.  But you know what I love about you Future (Current) Boyfriend?  It’s that you are your own man. You sniffed me out way before the dinner and decided if you were going to propose to me, but it would be on your terms. And that’s exactly what you did.  A couple days later with no fancy, horrible dinner, no heels or trains, no eyelashes or gimmicks, we took a hike to a waterfall. We held hands and laughed, we picked flowers and shared a lunch, you made fun of my old knees and my inability to swim, and then you asked if I would be your forever best friend… and just like that first date I fell in love with you all over again.  So Future Boyfriend, Current Boyfriend, Fiancé, Husband, Forever Best Friend thank you for FINALLY showing up and allowing me to close this chapter. But more importantly, thank you for the new one that I get to begin with you.

xo,

Mix

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend – Rona Stole My Man

As previously stated, I’m not one to compete over a man. My ego won’t allow it. And the fact that it’s a 50/50 possibility I could lose, well, my self-esteem would never forgive me.  And in full transparency, my self-esteem and I just got back on speaking terms.  It was touch and go for a while, some ugly things were exchanged, but thankfully we found common ground and was able to resolve it.  So, at this moment, it’s a risk I’m not willing to take. Therefore, if I have to compete, prove or campaign for your affection… I will gracefully (not so graceful), bow out.  So, imagine my surprise when I’m out here just living my absolute best life, with who I thought was my future boyfriend, only to have Rona swoop in and take him. That Bitch, right?  I know what you’re thinking – you almost had a boyfriend… I know we’ll get there.  But bottom line is, I was actually happy, with a potential Future Boyfriend and Rona totally blindsided me.   And honestly, I couldn’t compete if I wanted.  It happened so fast, like being on the opposing end of a Serena Williams serve. It was clear, I was no match for her.

Don’t be mistaken, Rona is not Covid.  Covid is the devil. Covid is a virus that has attacked over 2 million Americans, 10 million people worldwide, leaving hundreds of thousands dead or grieving lost ones. Covid is a disease that we have yet to figure out how to beat.  But Rona… Rona is a different kind of beast. It’s the environmental plague that hovers over us. It’s the psychological, economical and emotional impact of our current situation. Rona is the reason your jeans don’t fit.  Because let’s face it, home workouts were cute in March, but four months later YouTube Yoga doesn’t have that same sparkle anymore. Rona is the reason you had to buy off brand toilet paper for a month because panic shoppers took all of the Charmin.  And Rona has you drinking at 3pm, paying bills and wondering if this is the week you’re going to get furloughed.  Rona is a meanie.  She likes to isolate us with our thoughts, emotionally exhausting us with questions: What are you doing with your life? Why are you not making more money? Is this what you call a hustle? You should read more.  Eat healthier.  Actually exercise, not just plan to. What are you going to do about your hair?  And why are you still single… Look Rona, life is hard enough without your two cents, I don’t need you stressing me out.  She’s literally like a nagging girlfriend or an annoyingly overbearing parent. I don’t know why anyone listens to her, but like most annoying nags she keeps at you until the good life you thought you had, actually blows up. In my case, it was Friday the 13th when life changed. Eerie right. My love life is literally a horror movie. My job had just informed us we would be working from home, and me being naïve thought it was only temporary so I left behind 2 bottles of wine and girl scout cookies in my office. I do regret that.  Anyhow, that week, I noticed the vibe was off with the guy I had been dating for a few months. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but the week before we were happy. We attended a party together, laughed, drank… you know, happy people stuff, but this week was off.  I knew because our communication was strained, which by the way I can talk to a lightbulb – something I’ve learned during my quarantine – so when communication becomes a problem, I know it’s serious.  When I saw him that weekend my concerns were confirmed.  He was becoming distant, but I didn’t know why.  So, like any good, almost girlfriend, I cooked him his favorite dinner. Left him a sweet card. But I never saw him again after that haunted Friday the 13th weekend.  Calls become more infrequent.  Text messages dried up.  I was so confused.  We were happy, I swear, I even have the pictures to prove it.  So, what changed?  When we finally spoke it hit me dead in the face, Rona Got My Man!!!  On that call, I learned that life had flipped upside down for him and in this new world he didn’t know where I fit in anymore. Ouch. Regardless of how much I cared for him, supported him and wanted to be there for him, he didn’t want me. Like a bad Steve Harvey book, he wanted to figure it all out on his own - Bye Woman!  As you can imagine I was crushed, but thankfully there are support groups for women who have lost their man to Rona. Not really, but there should be. I’ve talked to a lot of girlfriends whose boos and potentials totally vanished with the Rona. While speaking and crying, we also drank wine, so I guess it was like a support group, right.  But more importantly, what I learned in these sessions is these are unprecedented times people.  And although I’m an amazing woman and he was a great man, we weren’t solid enough as a couple to overcome a pandemic. And since we’re entering into phase 2 of this thing, which I imagine will be a mix between The Day After Tomorrow and Left Behind, it’s just too much pressure to put on a new almost relationship.  At least that’s what I tell myself.  And since I’ve concluded this was an act of God, nothing he or I could have seen coming, on my dating score card –this doesn’t count. Now if someone could just wave the Men in Black wand in my face, we can make it official.  

xo,

Mix

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend – Why am I Still Single?

I was talking with a friend of mine and in typical fashion our – his – favorite subject came up “Why am I still single?” Like an unsolved Rubik’s Cube he just doesn’t understand (well guess what buddy, neither do I). He goes on to tell me that I’m a catch (duh). I’m attractive, smart, funny, successful… (stop, stop… but no actually go GO!  After all of these years I’m still single; I need these words of encouragement).  And that any guy would be lucky to be with me (exactly what’s I’ve been saying). So, he asks again, “Why are you single?” (HUH?!?!). It’s obvious that I don’t know the answer to this question otherwise I wouldn’t be.  Or and I’d be rich. Like Scrooge McDuck swimming in pools of gold coins, rich.  Because I’m not the only one.  There are tons of successful, attractive, amazing women roaming the earth, bewildered by their single status. So, if I knew why we were all still single, or even knew a person how had a potential theory that could possibly help, I’d do like any normal person would. I’d steal it, patent that knowledge and make a fortune off of it.   I’d pimp myself out with book deals, seminars and even TV shows. I’d be the new Oprah (without the yo-yo diet) as women in droves would come to me to discover how they could upgrade their solo vacation into a couple’s retreat.  I’d be the relationship guru.  But being that I’m still single, and I have no idea why, clearly that’s not my path.  I’m not Oprah.  I’m not even Patti Stanger. No one’s listening to me, because I don’t have any answers Sway.  Unfortunately, that doesn’t stop people from asking me the same dreaded question, “Why are you still single?”.

My friend questioned was it this blog that kept me at single status. Is my Future Boyfriend reading these love letters written as a self-help guide for us to have a successful relationship and running for the hills?  Is he terrified that he may become a passé story in one of these horrid, yet entertaining entries?  Well… that would be kind of morbid of him. Why does he have to be a bad story? Why can’t he be the one to change the narrative from Dear Future Boyfriend to Dear Future Fiancé or Dear Future Husband… Huh??? Does he have no vision? Ugh forget it, that guy, whoever he is, he’s definitely not my Future Boyfriend.  My Future Boyfriend takes risks. Or at least is willing to gamble on a future with me.  Because he knows it’s worth it.  After realizing this friend was no help (he’s just full of a bunch of questions with no answers) I moved along to another source.  Maybe I should go to someone who knows this experience firsthand.  So, I reached out to an ex. One who was willing to still take my phone calls.  Ehhh some might have me blocked 🤷🏾‍♀️.  To give him some sense of comfort, I immediately told him I’m not looking to rehash our relationship. Aghhhh… deep sigh. I just need him to drop me a few Blue’s Clues to help solve this Scooby Doo Riddle – Why am I still single.  After a slight pause he said it was me (I’m sure that’s something he’s been waiting to say for years).  Okay this is probably going to take a few therapy sessions to unpack, but lay it on me sir. He went on to tell me I’m too amazing and too great of a woman and that most men don’t know what to do with that (HUH?!?).  He said maybe I should dial back on my awesomeness (as if that’s an option, it oozes out of me without warning 🙄).   Hummmm… although these things were wonderful things to hear, I admit I was no closer to solving this “single” problem than when I first began.  It’s not like me and this ex is going to get back together and his idea of keeping my goodies to myself feels like a sabotage for loneliness so I needed another opinion.  Someone who would give me the real real.  So, I turned to my brother.  Future Boyfriend you don’t hear me talking much about my brother. That’s because most of his dating advice can be summed up into 4 words – HE’S STUPID. MOVE ON.  Therefore, I’m slightly selective what I talk to him about.  If I listened to him every time I dated someone I’d for sure be single… wait I am single… soooo there’s no harm in listening to him now.  My brother’s advice: Date a felon. Yep. This is why I never go to him for advice. Thanks for reminding me. Before I hung up he stopped me and asked me to hear him out. As a prepared myself to listen to a lesson on how to get on WEtv’s newest season of Love After Lockup he said – A felon will appreciate you. He has had everything taken away by prison so he doesn’t take things or people for granted. He appreciates what’s in front of him. The average man can’t appreciate you in front of him because he’s still worried about all the things he’s trying to acquire outside of you… Hummm what’s the name of that prison pen pal website again? My brother told me I am the average man’s worst nightmare. Because I am attractive, smart, funny, successful… (hey, all the things my friend previously mentioned) I don’t need a man and men like to feel needed. They need to feel accomplished and successful and wanted.  They need to believe, I feel that way too.  And they need to feel these things, not in comparison to me.  Aghhhh now I get it. I’ve been dating average men and that’s why I’m single.   Because my Future Boyfriend is beyond average.  Yes, he is great, amazing, extraordinary.  He’s accomplished a lot and is acquired success, but he has more ahead of him. Because he’s a work in progress like me.  And I will see and love that progress.  So yes Future Boyfriend, even if you’re not perfect and may or may not come with a felony… you’re beyond average which is perfect for me.  

Xo,

Mix

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend – Are You a Pro or a Con for my life?

One of the rechargeable batteries in my Nintendo Wii is broken. Or the remote is broken. I don’t know, I’m not an electrician (although I don’t think they specialize in Nintendo products, but it is electrical right.  After all I do have to plug it in).  I’m also not a gamer (a real one would probably laugh at my first-generation Wii, but what do you expect from a girl who prefers board games and Yahtzee to Game of Thrones or Call of Duty or whatever it’s called. MurderFest) so now I’m stuck playing solo.  Which is fine since technically I am solo.  And it’s kind of hard to play doubles on Wii Tennis as a solo artist. Not impossible, but trust it requires foot and hand coordination from all four limbs simultaneously and to be honest, all of that running back and forth is just exhausting.  So, I just continue to use my ONE reliable controller.   But then this “one” thing led me to notice my other “ones” in my house…  One set of keys at the door.  One wine glass on the counter.  One side of the bed to make.  One plate in my sink.  One-One-One…  Don’t panic Future Boyfriend, I’m okay. This isn’t the beginning of some sad note about how it took you forever to find me and I’m now going to off myself.  Don’t be dramatic, I have a dog to live for.  Honestly, I only really noticed these things after being trapped inside my home for 3 weeks.   And had I not run the battery life out in my dominate Wii controller, I never would have known it’s backup was on the fritz.  And then, I never would have begun questioning how after all of these years of being freaking awesome am I still solo?  And is that a good or a bad thing?  Like have I actually won, but don’t know?  Is two really better than one? Especially if “two” has a manufacture’s defect?  

See I’ve spent so long anticipating how great my life will be when you show up Future Boyfriend, that I never considered, what if it’s not. Like what if I find you and you’re on the fritz too. Here I am thinking I got a perfectly good Future Boyfriend, just ready and willing to play with me at any given time and bam your battery won’t charge. Calm down Future Boyfriend, it’s a metaphor… don’t be so literal.  Well unless your battery doesn’t charge for me. Like what if we fit together on all levels, but we’re lacking in passion. That would be tragic. But let’s not focus on that. I know my Future Boyfriend is passionate. I’m passionate, have you seen me watch a Michigan Football game? I love hard, I go 150%, I barely sleep because I’m too busy winning at life… and after multiple failed years, here I am still searching for you. That should count for something.  I’m still optimistic that my Mr. Right is right around the corner.  So yeah, I am the definition of passion. A bland person could never be my Future Boyfriend. But wait… what if other things don’t align?  Like my resume is pretty dope. I’m career oriented, but what if you’re a dreamer, without focus. Ugh. I dated that guy.  And here I am still single. Clearly that doesn’t work.  Or what if you don’t drink? Because I love wine. And although a built-in designated driver seems like a match made in heaven I’ll never get to take a romantic getaway with you to wine country where we’ll take a train and go tasting and eating and laughing and fall even harder in love.  Because I’m romantical… what if you’re not romantical or a horrible communicator because I love to talk especially about my feelings… and yours.  Like tell me you like me… all the time.  Not just because I’m a girl and we like that stuff (and it’s super important if you don’t want said girl to be insecure and needy and annoying), but because I don’t like surprises… well not true I like good ones like flowers and gifts and just because gestures, but not bad ones. I don’t like bad ones.  Like when my ex dumped me on the way out for his morning jog.  Not a good surprise. That’s me getting blindsided.  That’s tragic.  And I don’t want tragedy for our love story. So Future Boyfriend if you are a practical, dry, mute, stoic, dreamer who enjoys blindsiding women… Stay where you are, I’d rather stay single.  But the optimist in me says that would never be true. That guy would never be you Future Boyfriend.  And although I’ve mastered being solo, I still haven’t given up on that doubles’ match. A good partner could change everything, but if you're a work in progress, worse case, I’ll at least have someone to taunt while I’m winning.

Xo,

Mix

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend – Quarantine with Me

Leave it to take a global pandemic and social isolation for me to finally sit down with myself and tap into some deep seeded issues I’ve buried over the years.  Like my fear of suspending my LA Fitness gym membership, a dream I’ve always wanted to achieve, but have been too scared to do so. The logical person inside says why pay for something you can’t use. You’re locked in the house and it costs absolutely nothing to put your membership on hold. The optimist says, it’s okay to shut it down, once the ban lets up you’ll be itching for fresh air anyhow. I can start a new routine of boot camps and morning hikes which will save tons of money in monthly gym dues. But the realist trumps them both and says, who are you kidding this gym suspension is the gateway drug to quitting. You freaking hate working out and have been looking for an excuse to stop doing it for years.  And now that the world is coming to an end, here’s your chance.  And the realist is right.  I can quit without the judgmental bodies of LA’s perfect petites jogging past me in the mornings. Or the anxiety at the thought of my Future Boyfriend showing up with an effortlessly chiseled 6-pack while I’m concealing a full liter under my clothes (which at least isn’t a gallon… but nothing to strip about either). And you know why? Because they’re all locked inside, just like me. Halleluiah Corona!  Finally, you’re good for something. Let’s never go back to the gym again.

Now as I sit in my isolation chamber eating my second bag of family sized Kool-Ranch Doritos while alternating between red and white wine, I’ve reached yet another realization. I hate being alone. Well not really. I like being alone when I choose it, but after 5 days of forced loneliness, it’s beginning to feel a little like I’m in solitary confinement. Not sure how inmates do it, but if I was in prison I’d be the model convict. I need to stay out in general population, plus my spades game is too good to be solo. So, in an attempt to not go stir crazy, I surprised myself, grabbed a jump rope and went outside and exercised. I’m sure that’s against some Martials’ Law (it’s definitely against everything I believe in to my core… check the paragraph above), but I needed to breathe fresh air and see sunlight. I needed to clear my mind.  And who would have thought, working out actually does it.  Now with a clear head, I immediately thought of you Future Boyfriend.  Or rather us.  See in 5 days I’ve learned something very important about myself.   I’m freaking needy. I need to hear, see and feel a human being (preferable you Future Boyfriend). I need social interaction and I wonder if you do too. Because I need you to need me or at least act like you do. I need you to want to be quarantined with me.  Personally, I think it would be great for our love story. We’d spend days watching movies, playing games, cuddling under each other.  We’d dance to our favorite playlists and eat snacks together. And we’d talk for hours and hours and hours, but when we finally run out of words it will still be okay because you can watch old rerun games on ESPN (which I’ve probably already seen, but promise not to spoil the ending) while I read a book (because I’m cultured), legs thrown over you of course.   #physicaltouch.  Bottomline I want both of us to walk away from this knowing that in the middle of an apocalypse, I won’t kill this person. Now how romantical is that?  And isn’t that what true love really is?  The ability to see each other every day and night and not Natalee Holloway them. So here in the year of 2020, in the middle of a global crisis, I realized this is the level of commitment I need from you Future Boyfriend.  I need to know that you will be all in.  Not only when it’s convenient, but when times get rough and toilet paper gets scarce.  I need to know that you are down.  So are you ready to quarantine with me?

Xo,

Mix

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend – Where Are We Going?

I’ve always been a planner. I’m a detail-oriented person who mapped out my entire life by the age of four... Well maybe not four.  At that age I was consumed by Strawberry Shortcake and my dreams were only as big as my toy collection and my obsession for milk. Like literally I drank it all the time.  Whole milk, not any of that almond, silk, rice, low-fat, 2% hemp you… me… weaklings are drinking now. Back then I was a real G. How ironic for a person who now possess a lactose intolerance so extreme that a bite of chicken alfredo will have me doubled over in pain, convulsing as if I’m being attacked by the Coronavirus. Talk about an Achilles’ heel.  But yeah as a kid, I rocked a milk mustache proudly and my parents even talked about buying me a cow.  Which is weird, I barely fed the dog, so I don’t know who they thought was going to milk that thing.  Anyhow my planning skills definitely kicked in by the age of six. That’s when my parents separated, dreams of dairy farms went away and I knew I was on my own, but that’s a story for therapy.  At six years old, I was brilliant.  A strategist some might say, with my entire life laid out.  Or at least the parts that were important at the time, but either way I was prepared.  To date, this system of organized structure brings me comfort.  I have two calendars (one for personal and one for work), I schedule rotating standing appointments and I plan all of my vacations’ weeks… months in advance. I am NOT spontaneous. I like to be prepared.  And not being prepared actually gives me sever anxiety.  I don’t understand who would want to live their lives not knowing their next step, their next direction, their next move.  That feels like a terrifying version of Finding Dory. I don’t want to be lost in the world, floating around, trying to find home… only to discover myself choking on a plastic fork or bag because even though the grocery store charges us 10 cents for a “reusable” bag as a method to clean up the environment, it’s still plastic and over ½ of the country doesn’t recycle and here I am - a dead fish. But not just any dead fish, a dead fish with amnesia who never knew where I was going in the first place. Tragic.

Future Boyfriend this is all a very long drawn out way of saying, open your mouth and tell me where we’re going. And not just from a literal or logistical stand point although that too is important (don’t worry we’ll discuss that in a later post), but like an emotional one as well. The idea that women are supposed to float around with men aimlessly hoping to not choke and die like Dory before a man actually commits is pretty stupid. Not that I’m calling you stupid, Future Boyfriend, but if you think like that… well you have stupid thoughts.  You can’t have your cake and eat it too (which I admit, is a dumb saying… why can’t I eat my cake. It’s mine.  So are you really saying you can’t have your cake to show off to the world and also eat it because it will be gone and no one will see it?  Because if that’s the meaning of this perplexing idiom then I guess it does make sense. But they should say that. Oh, and I’m cake. You can’t show me off if you don’t commit. And if you don’t commit someone else will eat me… have me… whatever). Future Boyfriend, you see how I just worked that out in my head. I’m pretty smart so you should always listen to me, especially about this.  Unfortunately, you can’t have it both ways. You can’t be like “I’m the man, I’m a leader, I run ish, I wear the pants, blah blah blah”. And then say (in your dainty voice), “I’m not sure what this is, let’s just chill and see, why can’t you just go with the flow… see where it goes.” Two totally contradictory POVs. You can’t have big dick energy only when it’s convenient for you. Nope. Be consistent. Keep that same energy throughout.  You and to run things, well run it.  So often I hear men telling me about how they hate to be rushed or asked the questions “What is this” or “Where are we going”.  Oftentimes I hear, “It kills the vibe” or “I’m not into being pressured by anyone” or my favorite “That instantly turns me off”. Welp, you know what turns me off Future Boyfriend, having my time wasted. I’ve concluded the only men who hate to be asked about the future are men who 1 – have commitment issues or 2 – already knew they didn’t see the woman in their future, but they were enjoying the “fun times” they were sharing with that person and now they’re pissed because they’ve been busted.  I’ve also concluded #1 and #2 could very well be the same man.  So Future Boyfriend, I guess I’m saying be intentional. Express what you want from the beginning. Let me know where we’re going and how we’re growing.  Update me as things change.  And if you don’t want me to ask questions cool. I’m not sure I can promise that after all I’m quite inquisitive especially when I’m planning, but communication can minimize it. Bottomline, don’t leave me in the dark floating around like some dumb Dory because don’t forget Dory has amnesia and she can easily forget you.

xo,

Mix

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend this Instagram Boyfriend is real #relationshipgoals #Repost @meandsomebodyson_ ・・・ All we ask for is Somebody Son who knows and appreciates our angles. Well maybe that’s not all we ask for, but it’s definitely on the list😂✨ https://www.instagram.com/p/B6pIg8ZgMOj/?igshid=1t3jfsj991gtp

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend – Please Be My Instagram Boyfriend 📸

I think social media gets a bad rap when it comes to relationships.  It gets blamed for things it has zero control of.  When Mark Zuckerberg was failing out of Harvard, sitting lonely in his dorm room, and thinking of people’s ideas to rob, I highly doubt he was concocting some epic plan to put love out of business.  Quite the opposite. He was instead creating enough fake friends, to like him, just enough, to convince real girls, he was popular. This was all with the hopes that this new social media thing would encourage them to look past his serial killer face and consider sleeping with him. Who am I kidding, he was just hoping for a little over the pants action. Anyhow, social media was birthed with good intentions.  But over the years, people have turned it dark; blaming it for its failed relationships and trust issues. But social media didn’t tell you to search big booty girls, scroll through hundreds of them, double tapping.  Social media didn’t tell you to put “👀💦😜” under you ex’s, trainer’s and boyfriend’s best friend’s picture either. And social media definitely didn’t tell you to send unsolicited ashy dick pics to random girls’ DMs just because you found her attractive. Actually, they all have this feature now where the pictures disappear within seconds of viewing… so yeah maybe they want the dick pics. I’m sure they are all stored away somewhere in the cloud under a “Random Dick Pic” folder.  But whatever, I refuse to believe that social media ruins relationships. Instead, I think it’s just the exact opposite. The right social media is actually perfect for relationships. Especially if your Future Boyfriend has an eye for angles and can catch you at your perfect candid moments. To me, he’s Instagram Gold which makes him #relationshipgoals which equals the perfect recipe for an Instagram Boyfriend.

Future, Boyfriend, I don’t want you to be confused. An Instagram Boyfriend, is not the same as the boyfriend you post on your Instagram. That’s a couple’s photo. Much different. And to be honest, I don’t even know when it’s appropriate to put your face on my Instagram. Like is it bad luck, like a matching tattoo?  I once put a couple’s photo up of my ex and I and it took a solid 2 days before his other girlfriend DM’ed me their virtually identical couple’s photo.  Which sucked because their lighting was totally better (we took ours at dusk). But worse was I had to not only take down my picture, because clearly, I didn’t want to have the same couple’s photo posted as someone else, oh and because he was also dead to me, but now I had to forgo all my comments that told me how good I looked.  Which by the way are really useful when you feel really bad about yourself because your boyfriend is a real douchebag who cheats on you.   But I digress. An Instagram Boyfriend is one that loves you so much he makes sure you have great Instagram pictures.  And lighting. Clearly my ex wasn’t a good Instagram Boyfriend.  This IG Guy can’t get enough of you.  He thinks you’re absolutely gorgeous and every moment with you is a snapshot in his head that he has to capture for the world to see.  It’s like dating your very own Picasso except he doesn’t make weird art, you’re the art and you’re kinda priceless too.  To put it into context: You know the pictures of the girls, looking back and smiling while holding an obscure hand… Instagram Boyfriend. Or the guy hanging off the side of a boat to get his girl’s perfect water floating moment… Instagram Boyfriend. Or Taco Bell’s sunset heart hands commercial… Instagram Boyfriend.  Every cheesy, adorable, tourist photo, concert pic, beach moment, mountain climb ever taken and posted… Instagram Boyfriend.  These guys are the unsung heroes of perfect Instagram shots and I believe my Future Boyfriend is a hero too.  Future Boyfriend, I believe we’re going to have a lot of adventures together. Travel many places and do great things. And I am already grateful you have an eye for beauty (because you choose me), and athletic body (so you can capture the best angles) and desire to memorialize all my beautiful moments while we’re out there living them.  And don’t worry, we’ll have our couple’s photos too. Because if you’re going to do backbends to get the best shots, I definitely have to photocred you.

xo,

Mix

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Seriously. This single game is becoming exhausting. Is it too much to ask for a little zipper assist these days?!?! #dearfutureboyfriend #dating #datinghumor #datingblog https://www.instagram.com/p/B5KQjUBAh7n/?igshid=1i9wo1wueajgp

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Happy Hump Day Future Boyfriend. I’ve been super busy as the end of the year approaches, hence my lack of posts, but I’m sure you have too. And since I believe in making time for what’s important I’ll make it easy: I’m available for dates Monday - Sunday and phone calls from 10 am - 10 am. Talk soon!!! #callme 😘#dearfutureboyfriend #dating #datingblog #datinghumor https://www.instagram.com/p/B5F_Zjvgrm8/?igshid=h0rejmbqod1g

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend @spiritualword posted an article ranking zodiac signs by which is most difficult to love and just as everything else in life I’m #1. Yay me!!! So be prepared, you got your work cut out for you. Also according to this list you may be a cancer. Which at least narrows the search a hair. But can you promise to not cry all the time. That would definitely be a strain on my love 😘. #dearfutureboyfriend #dating #datinghumor #datinglife #datingblog https://www.instagram.com/p/B4P2x6iDx7R/?igshid=1swbutyc8k7dg

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Happy Hump Day Future Boyfriend!!! I’m legit the worse when it comes to flirting. I once told a guy his height deficiency makes him too small to ride this ride. He was almost 6’0 but not quite. I didn’t let up for 30 mins. Cut to my surprise when he walked away without asking for my number. What I thought we were vibing 🤷🏾‍♀️. Sound off - Who else has probably ran off their Future Boyfriend? I wanna hear about it #notalone #dearfutureboyfriend #dating #datinghumor #datingblog #datinglife https://www.instagram.com/p/B39vCDXgNQZ/?igshid=uczuc25j6u72

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend – I’m Not Thirsty, Just Slightly Parched

I can’t commit to being desperate. It just feels like a lot more energy and effort than I’m willing to put in. Finding the guy, tracking the guy, chasing the guy, catering to the guy… let’s be honest, that’s a full-time job. One with limited benefits and no real health insurance. I’ll pass. But don’t get me wrong, I’m not judging.  Actually, it’s quite the opposite. A thirsty chick is quite impressive. They have a hustle like no other.  These women actually plot, plan and strategize how to capture a man. Leaving nothing to chance or fate or Hinge. They first begin by identifying their “type”. Easy it’s “Man”. A base model man needs to have a pulse, all of his limbs (especially his thumbs for texting) and teeth. They can be fake, real, gold or chipped, but they can’t be gone. No girl will allow herself to be thirsty over a man with no teeth.  If “Man” has a career or a job he’s been at for at least three months, a house or an apartment with only one roommate and a car or at least an Uber ride pass, then the woman is in luck. She has found a mid-size man. If she presses him hard enough she can actually get a date out of him. One of limited modest pricing, but a date nonetheless. A luxury man is a keeper. He’s handsome, highly educated and well-traveled.  He’s what many, including himself, would consider “a catch”. But you have to be careful with how you approach him. He smells thirst a mile away and is easily spooked. You have to show you care, but not too much. Check on him and ask about his day, but then ignore him just long enough to make him insecure and come running back to you. He wants to feel like the pursuer so you have to let him believe he’s guiding the ship.  Otherwise, one false move and the ship will go down like The Titanic. And like Rose, he will not scoot over, pull you up and float away with you. No, he will freeze you out and watch you die. Usually from a bird’s eye, social media view.  Cold.  Now the last “Man” you can get is the sports model. He’s an athlete and easy. Just trap him and have a baby, he loves thirsty chicks and that’s what he’s been waiting all his life for.

See Future Boyfriend it’s not that I don’t know how to identify the right man for me, it’s that I don’t have the energy to chase him. Because after identifying the “target”,  one has to then put the plan into motion.  And to be honest, I’m just not desperate enough to execute thirsty plans.  Actually, I’m not thirsty at all, I’m just a little parched. So, I only do the bare minimal. Visually I got you. I’ll get all dolled up with a painted-on face and too high of heels and go to whatever party or event potential quality men frequenting. I walk in full of optimism. Maybe today will be the day I meet my Future Boyfriend. But once I arrive it’s game over for me. The thirst is real and these chicks are in full attack mode. They are grabbing, approaching and monopolizing the time of every male in the building. They have superhuman powers. Once they claim a guy they never break away not even to use the bathroom. Seven drinks in they are still standing either with a titanium bladder or an astronauts’ diaper filled with piss.  Me on the other hand is in the bathroom every 15 mins because the seal was broken before I left the house. So, the only one paying me attention is the bathroom attendant who expects me to tip her for handing me a free paper towel. Great. I know you can’t catch a fish without casting a pole, so I try. I make eye contact and smile, hoping to break a thirst trance and get a guy to notice me. If I’m luck it works, but it’s often short lived. The thirsty chicks have flipped the dating game.  I’m now expected to pursue him.  Although I’ve been added to his lineup of women, I don’t put in enough effort to stand out. He expects me to call and text him all day, schedule and plan the date and drop everything to be with him, when he has free time. Ummm no, I’m not that thirsty and I don’t even know you. Future Boyfriend let’s not live by unrealistic expectations. There’re a few things I’m never going to do. I’m never going to “court” you. I will be engaged and interested, but I will not pursue. You wanna feel wanted and chased after, rob a bank. I’m sure the cops will chase you all day. I’m also not going to text you continuously throughout the day. I actually have a career. One that pays me to be smart and witty. I don’t have time to give it to you for free.  By the way, you should be working too. That’s sexy. A man with a job. Do that.  And lastly, I’ll never plan our first date. How hard is “let’s grab drinks?”  3 words, minimum effort. If you can’t come up with something more innovative than me coming to your house for a movie and dinner, you actually don’t deserve to date me. Not to mention, I’ll never go to a stranger’s house on a first day. I’ve seen that movie, it doesn’t end well.  Future Boyfriend, I know there are dark days ahead. Settling down seem so passé, especially when there are thirsty women with limited expectations everywhere. I get it, the options are endless. But Future Boyfriend, I promise you this, I’d rather be a parched girl, sipping solo than a thirsty girl drowning in mediocre men and their BS any day. So if you want all of this… then you’re going to have to come correct.

Xo,

Mix

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend as we approach the decade’s most anticipated series finale... the end of my single years I’m gonna need you to actually show up. There is already a spin-off in the works “Our Happily Ever After”, but if you don’t come and close this deal I’ll be stuck in the sequel to “Yet Another Single Year”. Although I play the part very well it’s time for my character to grow. And honestly the ratings aren’t that good anymore. It definitely needs to be canceled. 💁🏾‍♀️ #haveyourpeoplecallmypeople #dearfutureboyfriend #dating #datingblog #datinglife #datinghumor https://www.instagram.com/p/B3Z1_4GgkgA/?igshid=1kc4ga3zxek9e

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend – Blink Once... If You’re in the Gym

I wouldn’t call myself a gym rat. First off, I wouldn’t call myself a rat, that’s just disgusting… or ratchet, which I am neither… well unless Cardi B’s Money comes on or a little Megan Thee Stallion.  At that point, my inner ratcheta shows up for a temporary two step, drop down and butt pop. But hey tomato ta-thot-o.  I guess what I’m trying to say is, I still hate the gym.  Yes, I know I’ve already told you this and no I’m not going to repeat the same story. Future Boyfriend, why do guys get so annoyed when you tell the same story. Obvi it’s like important or something to me. Can you just nod along and laugh at the prospective parts? You have an advantage you already know the punchlines. Just tune in then. Geeze, let a girl live.  Anyhow, this is not that.  It’s just that after a couple of years I wanted to offer a little refresher and mainly let know that I still hadn’t changed my mind. I still hate the gym. However, I have changed my routine and now as opposed to being a casual visitor of the gym, only going before a big event, an upcoming trip or a scheduled beach day, I do it more, sometimes more than others, consistently.  Again, not because I like it, it’s just it’s a little harder to drop 5 lbs than it used to be. Oh and because I like wine. So for ever bottle I drink that’s one day I have to go to the gym. It’s called balance, and no Future Boyfriend I’m not a Libra, I’m just a very smart Virgo.

When I begrudgingly made the decision to begin going to the gym “consistently” I had to frame it in a positive way. Tell myself something that would encourage me to keep at it. And although I love wine after a few visits I realized it just wasn’t enough. I needed more motivation. So, it became you Future Boyfriend. I like a man who looks good, so why not meet him in the gym. Brilliant. I go to the gym three times a week, most weeks… some weeks… good weeks. And to open up my options I go to three different gyms. Gym 1: It’s right by my job. Now although don’t necessarily want to date anyone I directly work with, I work for a big company. You’d think some reasonable prospect would attend the same gym after work. NO Gym 1 is the wanna be famous gym. All the girls have fake boobs and the guys fake calves. They strut around looking like Buzz Lightyear with bulky tops and slim legs. I’m not sure they even workout. They just walk around the machines a few times, posing on then and complimenting each other on their form. I’m not sure these guys even know I exist and I’m not sure I care, but I stare them down long enough to move, so I can get in my workout and leave.  I now my Future Boyfriend looks good, but he’s not an action figure. He’s just fit, preferably with a 6 pack.   Gym 2: Should definitely be condemned. It’s a mix between an old YMCA and an abandoned high school gym. All of the equipment is ancient, it smells like mildew (maybe because it actually has carpet as opposed to sweat resistant flooring) and the occupants has a median age of 75. I know you’re not in here Future Boyfriend, unless you’re a sugar daddy and I haven’t succumb to the idea of having sex with a senior citizen so this is a total strike out. So why go here… because while I’m on the elliptical they play family feud and I’m always trying to win that fast money.  Gym 3: I’m most hopeful to bump into you, Future Boyfriend in this gym. It’s a revolving door of people, some of which are even good looking. They actually come inside to work out and occasionally I’ll catch the eyes of a handsome man. I haven’t mastered flirting yet, so I don’t know what to do once our eyes connect so usually I just lurk around the guy using machines in the area hoping he’ll break come and talk to me. This happened once. I met a very attractive and engaging guy. He had a fit body, but not overly muscular and beautiful smile. While talking I got lost in thought. I began wondering if I’d sweat my eyebrows off during my “intense” cardio workout and if he thought I was an alopecia patient. I tried to catch my reflection in the neighboring metal, without drawing too much attention only to drift back into the conversation just in time to hear him talk about his running routine, or boot camp, or something I honestly didn’t care about. I realized he wasn’t flirting with me, he was recruiting me to be in his… army or cult or morning workout group. You know whatever they call it. He began telling me about places on my body I could target and he could help as thought I came to him for a fat consolation. I quickly told him no thank you. I said I only come to the gym so I can drink wine, not to get in shape. I don’t believe in a runners’ high.  And I thing boot camp sounds like prison for bad teens where people yell at you and force you to do stuff you don’t want to do… outside. I know Future Boyfriend I can’t ask for you to be in shape and I look like a blob. So, I’m willing to do the bare minimum to always look sexy… for you. Because remember I said I’m vain (go back and read if you don’t believe).  I’m committed to looking good, but I’m not committed to working out. That’s on a need to do basis.  So please don’t try to make me your 5 day a week, protein shake drinking gym buddy. I don’t wanna. And if that was you at Gym 3 and you called that flirting. Stop. Never wrap flirting in a conversation about working out. I promise I’ll miss it every time.

Xo,

Mix

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend as a person who spends everyday with myself I promise I am everything you ever wished for... You can thank me later 😘. #dearfutureboyfriend #dating #datingblog #datinglife #datinghumor https://www.instagram.com/p/B213RdUgLSN/?igshid=3r6jov1be9hr

[mixchronicles-futureboyfriend]

Dear Future Boyfriend it’s not that I’m inconsistent, I just try to use my powers for good. See I'm smooth, charming and kind of amazing. You talk to me everyday you’re gonna wanna put a ring on it. So the question is, are you ready 💍 #dearfutureboyfriend #dating #datinghumor #datinglife #datingblog https://www.instagram.com/p/B2jrfFfg26t/?igshid=1ieljfbf4iu2b