Once upon a time I fell in love. Men can be so...sneaky.
Chances are, if you're here, you know who I am. You probably clicked the Facebook link because you were bored at work, avoiding your homework, or generally like to creep on what I'm up to in cyberspace. To you, friends - hello! To those of you who may have stumbled upon this twisted story of deceit and confusion, welcome. I'm Kay. And, I'm sorry in advance...your head will hurt when this is through.
Each day I'll add a little more of the story. Trust me, it's far too much to condense into one post. Each of you reading this post has a varying degree of knowledge regarding the story that you are about to become inexplicably engrossed in, on a guaranteed unhealthy level. You will be jumping to conclusions, throwing out false accusations, and Tweeting your friends to see if anyone knows what the hell is going on. I promise, you don't. It's way more effed up than you could possibly imagine.
To those of you who jumped in halfway through the sadistic saga, here's your backstory. To those who haven't been graced with the hour and a half long story telling sesh - consider yourself lucky to have the fully scribed version, completely devoid of the hundreds of "oh but wait I forgot to tell you _____" and inappropriate number of "I KNOW RIGHT?!?!" exchanges.
Why am I writing this? Well, because it's fucking nuts. That's why. I could write a CSI Miami (only Miami though, this shit doesn't happen in Vegas) episode based on this story. Mostly I'm writing it, because it's therapeutic to put all the details down on virtual paper. That, and because I'm ridiculously tired of telling the story from the beginning every time someone else hears about Tucker. Please, join me for the ride. The story is far too unbelievable to put into a single blog post, so check in daily (business days only people, I have more psychopaths to meet, and my weekends are strictly devoted to such) for the next segment of our antifairytale.
Aight. Let's Tarantino this hey? Back to the beginning.
First, hi. I'm Kay. I'm a fairly normal (debatable, 100%), Heritage Hill dwelling, fun loving social butterfly college student hanging out contentedly for the last few years in our blessed little West Michigan haven known as Grand Rapids. I have a bevy of remarkable friends with which I spend nearly all my time, unless I'm galavanting back to redneckland to hang out with my family down on the farm. I meet a lot of people, all the time. My friends constantly remind me of the fact that I know (seemingly) everyone in this town. Great for social activity, terrible for dating. Grand Rapids is, for lack of a better analogy, like a giant high school. Everyone knows everyone, and has dated each other's cousin, ex-boyfriend, neighbor, roommate, and brother. I love our small town community more than anything, but it makes the dating pool smaller by the millisecond. Enter: OkCupid.com.
Yes, I joined a dating site. Get off it. Often the reaction I receive when I tell people this is, "Why?! Why do you need a dating site?!" Well, I don't. I can pick up a guy at the bar as good as the next girl in a dangerously low v-neck (sorry, Mom). However, I tired of seeing the same crowds at the same haunts, and of relying on carefully curled eyelashes and a strategically slit dress to spark a conversation that I can barely hear and certainly won't remember. Now, thanks to this online matchmaking metropolis, I can shallowly sift through 3-5 profile photos, scan for education, income, and height, and rule out anyone who mentioned MW3 or the LOTR Trilogy in their opening paragraph. Improvements, right?! Right. My good friends would never be surprised to hear I joined such a place. What's that? Give Kay unlimited characters to talk about herself and describe her Prince Charming, show off her footie pajama photos, and talk to a neverending man-harem of strangers? They'd wonder what took me so long to get there.
I've been dabbling for a bit, and have to say I've met some of the greatest people I know via the Interwebs. I've joked for years about writing a book about my virtual encounters - Craigslist --> PlentyOfFish.com --> OkCupid...it's seriously addicting, don't ever try it. For the sake of my friends, I won't divulge just how many of them are results of first dates turned best friendships. I was in the wedding of one such encounter last month, found a handsome local television personality once upon a time, and have a laundry list of tall blonde Calvin grads who've somehow become my very best friends. In fact, one aforementioned grad is essentially responsible for my best friend and I first hating each other, then falling in platonic best friend love. The wonders of technology, no?
Anyway, OkCupid. I crafted myself the perfect profile, which I will allow you all to view now. Side: clearly this is an indication of just how fantastic this story is going to be, if it's worth divulging my semi-secret online dating persona to the masses. Get pumped. Kay's OkCupid Profile of Geniusness.Read it, love it.
Now, once upon a time, right smack dab in the middle of my home page is this beautiful blonde man. Clearly I waste no time in shimmying right on over to his profile to have a looksee.
Deets:30 year old pharmaceutical rep, Grand Rapids transplant from North Georgia, named Tucker.
The Vitals:
Tall: check.
Educated: check (Masters from Auburn).
Attractive: supercheck.
Christian: check.
Loves his mama: check.
Has puppies: check.
Is Southern/has an accent: omgcheck.
Enjoys typical redneck tomfoolery: triplecheck.
Plays guitar/sings: imturnedoncheck.
Can rock a suit: check.
Loves football: checkcheckcheck.
Drives a truck: MY DREAM TRUCK PEOPLE, THIS SHIT IS SERIOUS. ....check.
Arightarightarightarightaright (shake it! shake! shake it!) <--- if you don't get this reference we're probably not real life friends, right? Thought so.
Naturally, I need to contact him immediately. Chances are, once it gets out that I'm writing this little novel, this profile will be deleted; for the time being, feel free to scope him out here: TUCKERDEVILMAN
Notice he mentions his affinity for the singer, Adele. Welp, I happen to have a serious girlcrush on Adele myself, so I select this commonality as my launching point for my impending marriage proposal. Here's how our conversations went:
K: Ten bucks says my crush on Adele out-obsesses yours ;)
T: Hmm I would def throwdown 20 on that bet and say it's not. Kinda scary huh? Btw I'm Tucker! it's nice to meet you. :)
T: Thought I'd shoot you this message as well and tell you a little bit about myself... I was born and raised in a town in North Georgia, so yes I'm southern and I do have the southern accent. I graduated from Auburn University where I played baseball and earned my masters degree in business management with a minor in marketing. I enjoy the outdoors fishing, hunting, working out, playing the guitar, singing, drinking beer, college football and taking drives down backroads off out by some lake in my truck. I believe that life is today and a miracle is tomorrow because your never promised anything so live life to the extreme and have fun doing it. My family makes up who I am. I'm the spitting image of my father and the loving hands of my mother and my sister is my bestfriend. Well, I guess that's enough for now but I look forward to hearing from you. Tucker
K: Dear Tucker,
You may have just written the perfect message, and I'm fairly confident you may be my dream man.
Cheers,
Kay.
T: That's never a bad thing to hear. :) Well I hope I'm not being too forward when I say this but if you like you're more than welcome to text me. I'm sitting on the couch filling out paper work, so maybe you can keep me entertained. (7**)******9.
At this point I am completely in love, and of course waste no time in texting my future husband. The next two days are a blur of butterflies and heart pitter patters and all that disgusting shit that I know better than to believe in. However, cynical Kay is smothered and stuffed in a trunk by planning-her-Georgia-wedding and picking-out-the-right-shade-of-white-for-the-fence-posts Kay. Forty eight straight hours of nonstop, obsessive, the kind where you wake up every 20 minutes on accident because you subconsciously want to check your phone for a new message, ridiculous texting. We're fascinated with each other, and absolutely must know every mundane detail (omg I took piano lessons TOO!) about each other. For a split second, I even lost my marbles and started talking baby names with Prince Charming -- he wants to name his son Walker, after his best friend who was killed in a drunk driving accident two years prior. *Awwww*. I tell him I'm naming my kid after a football stadium...not up there on the sentimental register, but by god he loved it anyway. He tells me of his parents (Jim, a chemical engineer, and Kara, a registered nurse), and his sister Andrea, who is his very best friend. I tell him of my family, talk about growing up in the country, and decide we are clearly destined to rock on porch chairs side by side til we're 95.
This is where we end today. Tucker and I are in love. My fingers are tired. May your hearts be filled with flutters and puppies and unicorns and all that fluffy shit. Enjoy it, today is the last day of hearts and rainbows, people. You know how your mama told you, "If it seems too good to be true, it probably is." ....? I shoulda listened to your mama.
Daily Recap, so we're all on the same page:
Major Players:Tucker: the handsome southern man who has me picking out bridesmaid dresses.
Kay: well, me.
Other Names:Walker: Tucker's future child's name.
Lucas: My future child's name.
Jim: Tucker's dad.Kara: Tucker's mom.
Andrea: Tucker's sister.
Tux & Sadie: Tucker's dogs.
Come back tomorrow for more.
Cheers-
Kay
Chances are, if you're here, you know who I am. You probably clicked the Facebook link because you were bored at work, avoiding your homework, or generally like to creep on what I'm up to in cyberspace. To you, friends - hello! To those of you who may have stumbled upon this twisted story of deceit and confusion, welcome. I'm Kay. And, I'm sorry in advance...your head will hurt when this is through.
Each day I'll add a little more of the story. Trust me, it's far too much to condense into one post. Each of you reading this post has a varying degree of knowledge regarding the story that you are about to become inexplicably engrossed in, on a guaranteed unhealthy level. You will be jumping to conclusions, throwing out false accusations, and Tweeting your friends to see if anyone knows what the hell is going on. I promise, you don't. It's way more effed up than you could possibly imagine.
To those of you who jumped in halfway through the sadistic saga, here's your backstory. To those who haven't been graced with the hour and a half long story telling sesh - consider yourself lucky to have the fully scribed version, completely devoid of the hundreds of "oh but wait I forgot to tell you _____" and inappropriate number of "I KNOW RIGHT?!?!" exchanges.
Why am I writing this? Well, because it's fucking nuts. That's why. I could write a CSI Miami (only Miami though, this shit doesn't happen in Vegas) episode based on this story. Mostly I'm writing it, because it's therapeutic to put all the details down on virtual paper. That, and because I'm ridiculously tired of telling the story from the beginning every time someone else hears about Tucker. Please, join me for the ride. The story is far too unbelievable to put into a single blog post, so check in daily (business days only people, I have more psychopaths to meet, and my weekends are strictly devoted to such) for the next segment of our antifairytale.
Aight. Let's Tarantino this hey? Back to the beginning.
First, hi. I'm Kay. I'm a fairly normal (debatable, 100%), Heritage Hill dwelling, fun loving social butterfly college student hanging out contentedly for the last few years in our blessed little West Michigan haven known as Grand Rapids. I have a bevy of remarkable friends with which I spend nearly all my time, unless I'm galavanting back to redneckland to hang out with my family down on the farm. I meet a lot of people, all the time. My friends constantly remind me of the fact that I know (seemingly) everyone in this town. Great for social activity, terrible for dating. Grand Rapids is, for lack of a better analogy, like a giant high school. Everyone knows everyone, and has dated each other's cousin, ex-boyfriend, neighbor, roommate, and brother. I love our small town community more than anything, but it makes the dating pool smaller by the millisecond. Enter: OkCupid.com.
Yes, I joined a dating site. Get off it. Often the reaction I receive when I tell people this is, "Why?! Why do you need a dating site?!" Well, I don't. I can pick up a guy at the bar as good as the next girl in a dangerously low v-neck (sorry, Mom). However, I tired of seeing the same crowds at the same haunts, and of relying on carefully curled eyelashes and a strategically slit dress to spark a conversation that I can barely hear and certainly won't remember. Now, thanks to this online matchmaking metropolis, I can shallowly sift through 3-5 profile photos, scan for education, income, and height, and rule out anyone who mentioned MW3 or the LOTR Trilogy in their opening paragraph. Improvements, right?! Right. My good friends would never be surprised to hear I joined such a place. What's that? Give Kay unlimited characters to talk about herself and describe her Prince Charming, show off her footie pajama photos, and talk to a neverending man-harem of strangers? They'd wonder what took me so long to get there.
I've been dabbling for a bit, and have to say I've met some of the greatest people I know via the Interwebs. I've joked for years about writing a book about my virtual encounters - Craigslist --> PlentyOfFish.com --> OkCupid...it's seriously addicting, don't ever try it. For the sake of my friends, I won't divulge just how many of them are results of first dates turned best friendships. I was in the wedding of one such encounter last month, found a handsome local television personality once upon a time, and have a laundry list of tall blonde Calvin grads who've somehow become my very best friends. In fact, one aforementioned grad is essentially responsible for my best friend and I first hating each other, then falling in platonic best friend love. The wonders of technology, no?
Anyway, OkCupid. I crafted myself the perfect profile, which I will allow you all to view now. Side: clearly this is an indication of just how fantastic this story is going to be, if it's worth divulging my semi-secret online dating persona to the masses. Get pumped. Kay's OkCupid Profile of Geniusness.Read it, love it.
Now, once upon a time, right smack dab in the middle of my home page is this beautiful blonde man. Clearly I waste no time in shimmying right on over to his profile to have a looksee.
Deets:30 year old pharmaceutical rep, Grand Rapids transplant from North Georgia, named Tucker.
The Vitals:
Tall: check.
Educated: check (Masters from Auburn).
Attractive: supercheck.
Christian: check.
Loves his mama: check.
Has puppies: check.
Is Southern/has an accent: omgcheck.
Enjoys typical redneck tomfoolery: triplecheck.
Plays guitar/sings: imturnedoncheck.
Can rock a suit: check.
Loves football: checkcheckcheck.
Drives a truck: MY DREAM TRUCK PEOPLE, THIS SHIT IS SERIOUS. ....check.
Arightarightarightarightaright (shake it! shake! shake it!) <--- if you don't get this reference we're probably not real life friends, right? Thought so.
Naturally, I need to contact him immediately. Chances are, once it gets out that I'm writing this little novel, this profile will be deleted; for the time being, feel free to scope him out here: TUCKERDEVILMAN
Notice he mentions his affinity for the singer, Adele. Welp, I happen to have a serious girlcrush on Adele myself, so I select this commonality as my launching point for my impending marriage proposal. Here's how our conversations went:
K: Ten bucks says my crush on Adele out-obsesses yours ;)
T: Hmm I would def throwdown 20 on that bet and say it's not. Kinda scary huh? Btw I'm Tucker! it's nice to meet you. :)
T: Thought I'd shoot you this message as well and tell you a little bit about myself... I was born and raised in a town in North Georgia, so yes I'm southern and I do have the southern accent. I graduated from Auburn University where I played baseball and earned my masters degree in business management with a minor in marketing. I enjoy the outdoors fishing, hunting, working out, playing the guitar, singing, drinking beer, college football and taking drives down backroads off out by some lake in my truck. I believe that life is today and a miracle is tomorrow because your never promised anything so live life to the extreme and have fun doing it. My family makes up who I am. I'm the spitting image of my father and the loving hands of my mother and my sister is my bestfriend. Well, I guess that's enough for now but I look forward to hearing from you. Tucker
K: Dear Tucker,
You may have just written the perfect message, and I'm fairly confident you may be my dream man.
Cheers,
Kay.
T: That's never a bad thing to hear. :) Well I hope I'm not being too forward when I say this but if you like you're more than welcome to text me. I'm sitting on the couch filling out paper work, so maybe you can keep me entertained. (7**)******9.
At this point I am completely in love, and of course waste no time in texting my future husband. The next two days are a blur of butterflies and heart pitter patters and all that disgusting shit that I know better than to believe in. However, cynical Kay is smothered and stuffed in a trunk by planning-her-Georgia-wedding and picking-out-the-right-shade-of-white-for-the-fence-posts Kay. Forty eight straight hours of nonstop, obsessive, the kind where you wake up every 20 minutes on accident because you subconsciously want to check your phone for a new message, ridiculous texting. We're fascinated with each other, and absolutely must know every mundane detail (omg I took piano lessons TOO!) about each other. For a split second, I even lost my marbles and started talking baby names with Prince Charming -- he wants to name his son Walker, after his best friend who was killed in a drunk driving accident two years prior. *Awwww*. I tell him I'm naming my kid after a football stadium...not up there on the sentimental register, but by god he loved it anyway. He tells me of his parents (Jim, a chemical engineer, and Kara, a registered nurse), and his sister Andrea, who is his very best friend. I tell him of my family, talk about growing up in the country, and decide we are clearly destined to rock on porch chairs side by side til we're 95.
This is where we end today. Tucker and I are in love. My fingers are tired. May your hearts be filled with flutters and puppies and unicorns and all that fluffy shit. Enjoy it, today is the last day of hearts and rainbows, people. You know how your mama told you, "If it seems too good to be true, it probably is." ....? I shoulda listened to your mama.
Daily Recap, so we're all on the same page:
Major Players:Tucker: the handsome southern man who has me picking out bridesmaid dresses.
Kay: well, me.
Other Names:Walker: Tucker's future child's name.
Lucas: My future child's name.
Jim: Tucker's dad.Kara: Tucker's mom.
Andrea: Tucker's sister.
Tux & Sadie: Tucker's dogs.
Come back tomorrow for more.
Cheers-
Kay
4 comments:
I not only want to hear more but I so want to get my editor to feature this in the women's magazine I write for! Because I have known you since you were a wee one, I can so visualize all of this. Can't wait to read the next excerpt!!!
I am sucked in! I am still stunned that I am just now seeing this.
A wee one?? Reveal thyself!! I'd love to be featured...we all know I'm an attention whore :)
hahahahahaha can't get enough of this shit
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