Who The Hell Is Olivia Elle?
- May 10, 2016
- 3 min read
Just when you're getting to know her, you find out she's not real. You've been catfished by me.
That's right, my loyal readers. I know you are all shocked and awed. But, it's true. Olivia Elle does not actually exist. Well, then who the hell have we been reading about?!
Glad you asked. The answer is... I am Olivia Elle.
Ok, so no, I don't have a secret lair under my house where I keep all my hi-tech Olivia Elle cars and body contoured, fully armored Olivia Elle suits. But still, for the past year, to me, she's been kind of a super hero.
Let me just tell you, it's scary to openly write about your dating life in the age of Google!
But it wasn't the fact that I was teaching high school when I started this journey or that kids these days can find anything on their smart phones in a matter of seconds... and so can their parents.
And when I stopped teaching, it wasn't even the thought of interviewing for a new career and being all dressed and pressed, sitting across my future boss, all stuffy and starched, while he pulls out a secret folder, slowly opening it, and asking me about this Magic Mike character. Nope, that wasn't the worst thought.
The scariest thought about starting a blog is,
What if the readers hate it?
The solution? A pen name!
And it took me forever to pick one and I will spare you the list of names I didn't use. You're welcome. But when I thought of "Olivia Elle," that was it. It was simple really. It's no secret that I love my Shondaland, and one night I was gasping along to Scandal, and Miss Olivia Pope was off being her bad self and I cheered, "Get it, Liv!"
...Get it, Liv. Get it. Live. Get it! Live! YES! That's it! You're going to LIVE, Michele! Get it! Go out and LIVE, Michele! Shell... Chelle... Shelly... ELE? Bite the bullet and add the extra L. Yes, Elle!
My breakup didn't end me, it didn't stop me, it didn't scare me. It strengthened me, it liberated me, it awakened the beast in me. And now, it was time to live. Michele was going to live boldly. And so, Olivia Elle was born... a 28 year old single girl who owned 2 cats, lived with her parents, and wrote a dating blog. Yes, this was living.
And live we did. I would date, and write, and post, and contribute, and Tweet, and do panels, and YES, people were reading! Except, as all good lies do, things got complicated. I did podcasts as Michele and had to talk about Olivia in the 3rd person. I had to carry around two sets of business cards. I had two accounts for everything. I'd go on interviews that weren't starched and stuffy and couldn't talk about my work because it wasn't under my real name. All of the sudden, Michele was a fake! Shit!
Olivia Elle let me be daring, a super power to be sure, and for that, I am forever grateful. But it was time. Take off the mask, untie the cape, park the sweet Elle car in the sexy Elle cave. Now you know and ya'll are stuck with Michele, now.
But, I've been dating waaaaay longer than Liv did. I mean, really, she only had a year of experience. I've been chasing boys since before I stole my sister's bike to ride passed Brian MacElroy's house, you know, just to see if he was outside, and yes, I fell off the bike going down the hill by my house because the wheels were too big for me, and no, I never made it to Brian's. Not only will Year Two of Ungagement be about my dating life now, but we're going waaaaay back to the best of my best, the worst of my worst. We're pulling some of my most horrifyingly terrific dating stories out from the depths of my memories. Hey readers, are you ready for this? I'm ready to live.
Hopelessly romantic since 1985.
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