Red Flags

March 2, 2024

Hellllllllllo blog people in the year 2024! It’s great to be here again. I took a little break and made my site private for a bit, but now I’m ready to get back in the over-sharing, self-depreciating, under-whelming-the-masses-with-my-prose, connecting-words-with-dashes, swing of things. Thanks for stopping by!

I had a lesson in red flags this week. If you follow me on my Facebook page, I posted a true little story about dating in the DMV (DC, Maryland, Virginia for you Kentucky rubes). To jog your memory:

“I was on a date where I had to drive about an hour to meet the guy. We met at his house and he drove us to dinner. Then when we got back, I asked if I could use his bathroom before I hit the road. He showed me inside and upstairs to his bathroom, and then said “Goodnight, get home safe.” He and his dog went in his bedroom and shut the door. I shrugged, peed and and headed down the stairs. I was internally debating if I should offer to buy something like I would after using the bathroom at a Shell station or if I should just steal something to thicken the plot. I was wearing socks and the stairs were carpet, so in the middle of my scheming, I slipped and fell halfway down the flight of stairs. I stood up, took a deep breath, and took another step- then slipped again and fell the rest of the way down. I know that man heard me fall down his staircase, but he never emerged from his bedroom. So I stood up, dusted the dog hair and dust off of my ass and limped out to my car – too embarrassed to steal a Knick knack or leave a 20 on the coffee table. My knee is still very sore but I don’t think I’m out for the season. Should be back in the game in time for March Madness.“

You guys really thought it was a funny little story, so I posted it in a Facebook group for my favorite podcast called “Shit talk Sister Wives”. Shit Talk is hosted by a couple who got a little fame from podcasting about the show on TLC called Sister Wives, but they have since acquired a cult-like following on their Patreon and they recap shows like Dateline, Love is Blind and Toddlers in Tiaras. It is the best group I’ve ever seen on social media. People post about really crazy stuff on there and people are always nice. I posted my story there and got so many positive comments about my story telling, I was feeling feisty and confident. So I went to a local Facebook group for people who like to drink in northern Virginia, correctly named “Drink NOVA” and posted the story there.

My post in the NOVA group took off. I blinked and I had 500 reactions on there, with most people saying that it was hilarious and also saying that my male co-star in the story was rude to me. But another wild thing happened. I experienced my first taste of hate on social media since the election of 2016. I stopped posting about politics in 2016 when my high school pre-calculus teacher made a comment on my page saying that I am bad at my job in a chain reaction that followed from me running my mouth about Gary Johnson’s infamous “What is Aleppo?” interview. Remember that guy? He was the Libertarian candidate for president back when Trump and Hilary were duking it out. Anyway, I was making fun of this poor guy and made my former teacher mad. I’m glad midterm grades are permanent once submitted because if not, I might have retroactively lost my 4.0. The horror. I deserved it. You find yourself acting as a keyboard warrior trying to defend your intellect against a high school math teacher from middle-of-nowhere Kentucky, and you take a step back and evaluate your life choices, is all I’m saying. So I took a break from posting controversial opinions about worldwide current events and started just trying to post about funny things that happen in my life (and selfies!) – like any real narcissist would do. Roe v. Wade got overturned and I broke my rule that day, posted a little something, made an appointment to get an IUD, and returned to my politics-free posting.

My new and exciting 2024 internet hate had a few themes: You make bad decisions, you’re desperate, you’re a slut, you have red flags, you’re a sloppy drunk, you’re not funny.

Ok – I kind of understand how some criticism could come from my little story at face value. One read-through might suggest that I drove to this man’s house on a first date – but it was actually a third date. I left that detail out. We had a couple of really fantastic dates before – both at Mexican restaurants where we compared and contrasted the margarita and fajita situation at the two spots. I brought him a slice of key lime pie on the first date because he said he liked key lime pie. We ate pie and drank margs. It was awesome. So when the folks in the Drink NOVA group wanted to know why I would go to a stranger’s house on a first date – I told them it was a third date, not a first. We had spent many hours together prior to this date. Most people understood that, but one woman doubled down that going to a man’s house on a third date is also stupid. I ask you, dear blog readers, WHEN THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO SEE A MAN’S HOUSE? On the wedding night? This whole thing about “OMG it’s so not safe to go into a man’s house, he might kill you.” is so funny to me. Do you know how many instances of domestic violence happen between couples who have known each other for YEARS? When exactly is it safe to be in a house alone with a man? The answer is never.

Date three went just as well as the first two, so the ending really confused me and made me belly laugh on the way home. Well, first I cried for just a few minutes. But then I belly laughed. It was a long drive, so I had plenty of time to process my emotions. Another key detail of the story is that I was not drunk when I fell down the stairs. I had 1.5 drinks over the course of a 6 hour date and actually sipped on a coke for the last hour or so because I knew I had to drive home.

Another burning question that the great Drink NOVA folks had was: why on earth would you drive an hour to meet a man?? He’s supposed to drive to you, dummy. He’s the man. I’m sorry, I don’t buy into that whole idea that women shouldn’t have to lift a finger in dating. If I might make a connection with someone, I’ll drive an hour. I have a nice car and a long podcast list. But apparently driving to him means that I’m desperate or also potentially a stalker. I thought it was a nice thing to do because he said he had to be at work at 3 am the next day. But no, Rebecca, it’s not nice, you’re pathetic. Way to put yourself in a stupid situation, idiot. Look at all those RED FLAGS!!!! Wow, that guy dodged a bullet! One woman said she was glad that the guy didn’t come out of his room to check on me because I would have accused him of something. Then the Red Pill guys arrived in the thread and I was like “LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE, LEYA!!!!” She also thought I was serious about thinking about stealing something. I thought that was an obvious joke – you know, it’s funny because the man left me alone, unsupervised in his home and I could have walked out with anything. I would obviously never do such a thing.

See what I did for the last three paragraphs? I just wrote a 3 point essay trying to convince some people who don’t know me from Adam on a Facebook group that I’m not a dumb slut who deserves to fall down stairs and cry half the way home. And this is what I was trying to do in my responses on the post when I gave up and deleted it altogether. My intention all along was to share a funny story on a Thursday that I thought really highlighted how humans are imperfect and messy and clumsy and find themselves in awkward interactions, yet we survive them and laugh about it later. I wasn’t even mad at the guy…I haven’t heard from him since and I think that’s for the best. We had big mismatches in our values, and while it would have been nice for the guy to walk me to my car and hug me goodbye, I’m not upset with him. Actually I remember telling my friend that I was almost relieved that I sobbed for a minute on the drive home. My new medication (Lexapro baybeeeee) has helped me so much, I hadn’t really felt a strong emotion in 2024, so being able to sob and feel really sad for a legitimate reason felt so good.

But then I found myself trying to defend my character against people who don’t know me and never will. I hate how susceptible I am to that. Someone says some blanket statement about me as if people are black and white, perfectly good or perfectly bad, and I start to believe them. I even went to work the next day and asked my friend earnestly “Do you think going to a guy’s house on the third date is slutty? Dangerous? Would you judge a friend for that?” And she said “I wouldn’t judge my friend if she went there on a first date. I wouldn’t have judged her if she was drunk when she fell. I wouldn’t have judged her if she drove two hours. I would have asked her if she was okay and told her that she deserves to be with someone who will walk her to the car at the end of the night.” That about sums it up, right?

How cute was my outfit though?

Stay tuned for this all new season of “The Days of Rebecca’s Life”. We are guaranteed to have a lot of emotional spirals, lessons learned from this journey called life, and belly laughs to help us cope. Join me if you dare.