kmm signing off. For now.

After two years of this adorable stalking experiment, I will say that a lot has changed. For instance, I am writing this post on the sofa of my new apartment in Utah. That I share with a boy … who was never mentioned on this site. If I had given him a name in all likelihood it would have been The Mountain Biker. But I didn’t. The truth is, I never expected our relationship to unfold the way it did. But it happened. And now I am here – 900 miles from SF, and several hundred from a major league baseball stadium.

However, two years later, a lot remains the same. You see, if it’s not one boy occupying your thoughts, appearing in your dreams, summoning all your attention and love – it’s another. And right now, the man I think about the most every day is someone I have loved my whole life. His health. And his fight ahead. And in truth, that’s all I really have time for now. So thank you all for reading. For participating in this little stalking experiment. Good bye. For now …

The End: aqm

This is my official end-stalking announcement, though from the amount of writing I’ve been doing, I’m sure you’re not surprised.

It’s 2011 and for a long time, my posts have been mostly non-existent. Not because I’m failing to post, but rather, I’m failing to stalk. My focus has been elsewhere (home, job, netflix) and to be honest, the men have been elsewhere too (making it especially difficult to write about anything). These aren’t bad things. I’ve been loving doing nothing and worrying about no one. My life in semi-solitude has been awesome. And while that may sound somewhat sad, it’s actually the best thing I could ask for right now.

But, that’s boring to write about. You don’t care about that NOVA special I just saw on the crash of Flight 447. You can see Twitter for that. You don’t care about my favorite New Year’s Eve ever (a toast to myself in my brand new apartment). You can also see Twitter for that. You care about adorable stalking stories, and those I do not have.

The future will hold a gentleman friend, to be sure, and my new place makes for an ideal cozy, cuddling get-away. I envision plenty of sweetness in due time. Don’t get me wrong, I will stalk adorably in silence and lurk lovingly in private, but as far as this site is concerned, this is the end.

Status Update: kmm

At the end of the month I am hitching up and heading out to Utah. Well, kind of. More like paring down and driving slowly on ice-lined highways over the Rockies. Either way, I am moving.

When I tell people I going to Utah I get a range of responses from extreme happiness to morbid curiosity – best understood as a facial expression where individuals appear confused, shocked, and wear a fake smile all smushed together. When I tell people I am moving for a boy I get two reactions. The first being, a round of I’m so happy for yous followed by a grabbing of left my hand to inspect the ring that does not exist. The second is a bit more telling: silence. Both are reasonable reactions.

Because the reality is, I am moving for a boy. Something I never really thought I would do. I am not sure if this is proof that circumstances change or maybe just proof that people do. The reality is also that I am moving with a job lined up — a purpose I needed to have before answering this call for adventure. And more than the adventure of driving to a new state, starting a new job, and a new life, it will be the adventure of living with someone else. Learning how they really take criticism when you find food particles stuck to the dishes in the kitchen cabinets and suggest they scrub a little harder. It will be about discovering how you take truth telling. And learning how to be a team player when you feel like going it alone, and remaining independent when you will be one half of a pair. Who knows what this adventure will bring, hopefully more stories for you all. And for me.

The Swimmer – 5:40pm

I first spotted The Swimmer resting against the wall of the pool, having some water and watching time as he prepped for his next set of laps. I decided to share his lane, smiling down at him as I sat on the edge, stretched for a bit and hopped into the water below. I can’t say that our tiny exchange was particularly flirtatious in any way. A friendly “hello” upon entering a lane is pretty standard etiquette. Not to mention there’s something unapologetically unromantic about a girl in bright orange swim cap, ski-mask style googles and large plastic headphones attached to her head. Reading anything into this moment of casual greeting would be ridiculous. But, he was quite adorable and had a really nice, warm smile so I decided to read into it anyway – convinced that this was a teeny spark that needed some fire. So, I went on to swim with the most impressive style, grace and speed that I have… Only to find him gone just after a few laps.

Three months in, three months out

Three months ago I watched a terrible thing happen. My boyfriend packed up his room, parted with some boxes, kissed me on the lips, and moved away. Granted, this was something I knew was going to happen. And he wasn’t really leaving me, he was going back to school to learn and grow and be better. Still. It hurt. But we decided to do the long distance thing. And so far, we are working.

After he moved I talked to the people I knew and the people I encountered who endured periods of separation in their relationships. All said it sucked. And all said that it was worth it. Because it taught them to be better communicators. When most of your relationship shifts from in person interactions to mostly over the phone and Skype encounters, it actually forces you to talk. About things. Like feelings. The physical separation forces you to make an extra effort. Like write handwritten notes. That you send because you like the ritual of saying, I like you enough to wait in line for stamps at the post office.

Long distance relationships also kind of up the ante. They make you project manage your life a little better, making you look into the future and ask yourself – what do I really see happening here? Well, three months into our 900 mile distance experiment we have decided that should continue seeing each other. But in person. And in the same house – parking both our bikes and lives at the same address. We are working out a timeline. I am hoping for the best. And at the rate of my posts, perhaps the next time I publish will be from a different time zone.

FITC People: 8/17-8/19

Every time I go to FITC or that FITC comes to me, I feel the need to collectively stalk each and every talented and perfectly nerdy developer and designer speaking at or attending the event. They’re a great bunch of people and I feel lucky to have had them here in San Francisco for a short while this August. Although I couldn’t make it to sessions this time, I made it to plenty of social gatherings, dinners and drinks with my favorite fellas from FITC. Thanks for making it memorable. I will keep stalking you on the online until next time…

long distance love

When I was in fifth grade I was “going out” with a boy I had dated since the third grade. (Even then I was into commitment.) Going out meant that we stood next to each other in line at recess, sat behind each other on the bus during field trips, and talked on the phone for hours in the evenings. I am pretty sure most of that time was spent in silence, playing with the cord, wondering what we should say next. I don’t think the subject of kissing ever came up. We were intensely ‘in like.’ Then I moved.

We still talked on the phone for a few months, but the prospect of having to wait another five years to secure a license so we could drive to see each other proved too much for our young romance. The relationship petered off and I began dating someone else that I didn’t like because I didn’t know better. He sat next to me in my class. I couldn’t stand him at all. But he was there. And I was 11.

At 29, I am in my second long distance romance and things have changed a little bit. I have a car, a bank account, and can book my own flights to Utah. We also know about that whole kissing thing. But one aspect that hasn’t changed is talking on the phone. While we don’t sit for hours in silence, we are learning how to communicate without the benefit of touch, without the visual cues of smiling. Still, I find myself hanging up each night feeling a little smitten with the idea of getting to hold his hand. We are intensely in like.

Pro Tip: What not to do

I received the most priceless email from a friend this morning. She was passing along an introductory email a suitor on match.com sent to one of her coworkers Tuesday. Gentlemen, if your goal is to make people laugh do the following. If your goal is to score a date: don’t. Never:

Open with: You represent the effervescence of the elegance which emerges from the simplicity and reflect wisdom and character that can only come from rich diversity of your personal experiences.

Quote Voltaire. And Sting. In the same email.

Mention destiny. In French first, then English.

Say: “I wonder why I am still single.”

Describe you professional and academic career as being on “steroids.”

Highlight your ability to give exceptional foot massages as a way to makeup after minor fights.

Brag: “I was summarily thrown out of Cambridge University (too stuffy for me), finished my Doctorate by the time I was 22 and possess remnants of British accent. I left UK as I realized Brits lack sense of fashion and their food is still awful … In retrospect, I can serve a great meal in 20 minutes, clean and organize the kitchen, take the dog for a walk (if you have one) and still make the 10 o’clock news with 90 seconds to spare.

Lie: “I delivered a child in the middle of the Amazonian rain forest to a couple from Australia. I taught some rebels in Ghana (who captured me during a motorbike ride across the country) to kill their time playing cricket while they were not killing the members of the communist opposition. They set me free unconditionally and promised me a suitable bride (without any dowry exchange) if I ever wanted to get married. I declined that offer graciously.”

Admit you have no common sense: “I was chased by a wild rhino in Botswana. I had no idea that such a heavy set creature with tiny legs can run so fast and that rhinos do not like anyone interfering with their off springs.”

Profess needing to win at all cost, and having “a ‘beautiful mind’ with a wicked slant.”

Mention aliens. Ever. “Why haven’t we heard from intelligent life forms from some far off planetary system? In my view perhaps they are not as intelligent so the quest of SETI must go on.”

Badger your potential date: “If you decide not to respond, may I remind that it would be at a great personal loss to you.”

Not provide a photo. Especially to prevent “professional suicide” because you work as investment adviser to a Private Equity fund which is backed by Middle Eastern investors.

It would be such as shame to ever learn that this man is a fake. I genuinely hope he finds someone as odd as he who will treasure him always.

Pro Tip: Online dating is the same. But different.

After years of tussling with the idea of online dating, a girl friend recently came to terms with the concept. She enlisted me to help write her profile, snap her picture, and upload everything she wants in another human being onto her hard drive and into the ether for all the world to see.

I was thrilled. Her profile was smart, funny, and representative of her. I know – because I wrote it. I envisioned a few flirtations. A few winks from creepers out of her age group. A handful of false starts over coffee. One or two, you-seem-nice-buts … and then boom: boyfriend! That was over a month ago. During our check in last week she confessed things weren’t going as well as she’d hoped.

HER: I wind up hitting delete a lot.

I thought maybe she was just being too critical, or expecting too much. But then I listened. In my mind, the online world was teeming with smart, attractive, interesting people who just haven’t met their other. Nice guys and girls who were just victims of bad timing. What I didn’t really consider was: it’s the same dating pool -just online – and stocked with the same disappointments, the same creepers, the same rejections.

And as she explained the winners who had contacted her of late I realized she was still fighting the same good fight – just online. The same dudes trolling the bars were scrolling profiles. The same crazies just had another touch point. The click of a button just made it easier to ignore them. However, I also realized how easy it was to dismiss a decent guy or gal over a bad photo or a typo. How easy they get lost amidst the winks from the hell-no’s and the are-you-kidding-mes. You just have to be patient. I told her so.

HER: K, the last guy who responded wore a superhero costume…

And sometimes you have to know when to just shut up.

Status Update : kmm

It isn’t every day that you get to sit at a table and have your past sitting across to your left, and your future sitting across to your right. That you get to watch them interact – exchanging music tips, debating politics, and trading laughs in the dark. That you watch your future buy your past a drink. It is an odd moment when you formally introduce them: this is who I adore now. And I’m glad you like him too. And when you find yourself standing between them – your future’s hand upon your neck, your past tapping your shoulder to tell you about his favorite song. Both have made you cry. But for different reasons entirely. The first because he was never everything you wanted him to be. Or likely, it was the other way around. The second, because he’s more than you hoped. And you never want him to be anywhere but at your table to your right.