The Valedictorian of Being Dead by Heather B. Armstrong

Author:Heather B. Armstrong
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gallery Books

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The dating scene in Utah is a beautiful backdrop for a suicidal ideation.

I’d been in two long-distance relationships after my divorce. Both times I realized the mileage between us was untenable, given the demands of my kids and my job. Sure, sex can be really great when you haven’t seen someone in six weeks, but during those six weeks I still only had two hands and needed to unload the dishwasher, fold four loads of laundry, help my kid with the Pythagorean theorem, build a robot for the science fair, take my kids to the dentist, volunteer for the bake sale, and somewhere in there make enough money to pay rent and buy food and put gas in the car. Those romances were more like fantasy vacations than actual relationships. Then I made the horrible mistake of deciding that I should try to date men who lived within a day’s driving distance from my house. This ended up being one of the worst mistakes of my entire life.

While training for the Boston Marathon, I set up an account on Match.com. What on earth was I thinking? It just seemed more adult than swiping through Tinder because I was not looking to hook up or date casually. I did not have time for that trivial nonsense. I had no interest in that kind of dating, since I never took a lunch break and hadn’t had time to grab a cup of coffee with a friend since my kids’ father moved across the country and I got primary custody of my children. Since then.

I did have a Tinder account, and a Bumble account, and eventually I signed up for an account on a site called Plenty of Fish. I kept it open for the specific purpose of being able to reference it in case I ever needed to prove to someone just how terrorizing the dating pool is for women in Utah. It may be just as terrorizing for men—I mean, look at me! Have you met me? I’m so crazy, I agreed to let a doctor flatline my brain ten times! Also, one should note that I will at some point want to have rough picnic bench sex with someone else, although I did fail to disclose that in any of my profiles. What I did eventually end up writing in every profile I had was “The fish that you caught or the deer that you shot do not matter to me as much as the words coming out of your mouth.” Because, holy shit, y’all, the photos of dead animals in the dating profiles of men in Utah . . . And, my God, do not even think of setting up a dating profile, dude in Utah, unless you have a shot of yourself in full gear on the top of a slope at Alta Ski Area, or you will not be getting any in the near future. Any of what, I’m not sure.

I just opened my Plenty

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