Friday, October 31, 2014


I'm calling this guy Grant. We met on Tinder and had great rapport. Our banter was witty and fast paced. He was smart and just as sarcastic as me.

Grant didn't have a car, which irks me, but we set a date. I trekked down to his neighborhood. Found the bar. Found parking. Found a booth in a very hipster-ish bar (his choice).

I was maybe 5 minutes early. I order a glass of water because I don't want to start drinking by myself. I pass the time pretending to play with my phone but really eavesdropping on a group of finance bros.

Time seems to have slowed to a crawl. This was at the beginning of my re-entry to the dating world so I had little self confidence. Am I being stood up? The waitress came by at least twice more to ask if I wanted to order a drink. I'm on the verge of leaving.

He arrives. Grant was impossibly tall and very very thin. Like 6'7, 150 tall and thin. Like a beanpole. Like a prepubescent girl. Like a giraffe. Like the Jolly Green Giant's anorexic cousin. Like Mary Kate Olsen standing on Ashley Olsen's shoulders. I seriously wondered for a minute or so if I could break him over my knee like a pencil.

Thin guys are just not as attractive to me. My ex-husband was rail thin and I always felt like a blimp next to him. Being naked around him felt uncomfortable. I was so aware of my breast and hips and thighs and waist and butt. He never said anything to make me feel uncomfortable about my body. But the feeling lingered. I would disagree when he called me sexy.

But back to Grant. He sits. We order drinks. The conversation flows. It becomes pretty clear that he is rather immature. A gigantic overgrown child. We order another round. We move closer and closer in the booth until we are touching. Still talking and laughing, but I know I couldn't stand to be in a relationship with another man-child. Oh fuck, he has a hoop earring. C'mon men, this isn't a good look unless you're a pirate...and maybe not even then.

 I always, always offer to split the bill on first dates. Smart guys will wave this off and pick up the tab. Grant and I split the bill.

He graciously offers to walk me to my car as its rather dark. My car is in an underground parking garage. As usual, the hyper-paranoid part of my brain which has grown and been nurtured by my mom and too many true crime shows, begins to think, "Maybe it wasn't a great idea to go to a parking garage with a guy I met on the internet.

We get to my car and make out. For better or worse, kissing is my measure of whether it was a good date or not. I already knew I didn't like Grant. I already decided he was too skinny and too "young" (he was a year older) but I wanted him to want to kiss me. Because I'm a shallow, shallow person.

So we kiss for quite a while. He invites me back to his place but I decline. He says, "Then you better run."

What? Seriously, what the fuck? Terrifying. I think he meant that I should go because he wouldn't be able to stop kissing, but not entirely sure.

I got in the car and locked the doors obviously, by the time I started the car and got it in reverse, he had disappeared. The garage was basically empty. I have no idea where he went. My best guess is that he fell through a sewer grate since he was so damn skinny.

Definitely not worth the two artisanal cocktails. No second date.

Wednesday, October 29, 2014

Mr. Presumptuous

I'd been chatting with this dude for not even an hour, and he tries to invite himself over. 
Knowing my Kiddo will be home. 
And this guy has kids of his own. 

Boggles the mind. Do people really let randoms come in contact with their child?

Monday, October 27, 2014

Dr. Phil

Hi name isn't Phil and he wasn't a doctor, but stick with me for a minute.

I meet Phil, this incredibly handsome man on Tinder. So freaking hot. We make plans to meet for dinner by Greenlake. I arrive first and find that the restaurant I picked is closed. I text him and figure out a Plan B.
I arrive at the newly selected location and he's...just not as hot as his pictures. Disappointing. Maybe he's just crazy photogenic? Whatever, he has the capacity to be hot and he's not bad looking in person and I'm already there so we sit down for dinner.

Over drinks, Phil discloses that he is a vegetarian. This really isn't a big deal, so long as no one tries to convert me. Because I'll give up cheeseburgers when you pry them from my cold dead fingers. I'm not sure what the etiquette is so I order a vegetarian dinner too. I'm not worried about this at all because I don't need to eat meat all the time (That's what she said!) but a small (insane, over-thinking) part of my brain is worried if we start dating seriously he might not love my carnivore ways.

After dinner we head around the corner to a bar. I'd never been to the Little Red Hen, but if nothing else came of this date, at least I discovered this bar. Its small and divey and hasn't been updated since at least the 1970s. Its a country music place and on this particular night, we watched about 20 20-somethings learn to line dance.

We have a couple rounds of drinks, conversation flows easily and we watch the line dance student and try to guess which are dating and which guys are trying to pick up girls. When we decide to call it a night, he walks me to my car. Phil expresses irritation that I've parked directly in front of a gym full of people getting in a late night work out. He suggests we walk to his car so we can more fully say good night.

This turns into a pretty sloppy but excellent make out session in the back of a Volkswagon Jetta. The making out leads to a bj in the back of a Volkswagon Jetta. I swear I was raised better than this. Afterwards, he walks me back to my car and we actually say good night.

We text a bit and then a few nights later we FaceTime. And here's where the nickname Dr. Phil comes in. At the time of our date, I was early in my progression to being a slut. I had nagging feelings of shame and disgust and regret. I was desperate for Phil to continue some sort of a relationship with me, no matter how casual, because then I could tell myself that while I did move too fast on the first date, it turned out ok.

It did not turn out ok.

While on FaceTime Dr. Phil starts asking deeply probing questions. And I answer honestly. Y'all, he cracked me like an egg. I have no idea how he knew the things to ask to trigger my tear glands. I have no idea why i continued to answer questions of a very personal nature. By this point I'm making heroic efforts to act like I'm not silently crying. We get off the phone because I'm a wreck. I feel unlovable. I feel stupid. I feel ashamed to have let this man into my head.

A few days later Dr Phil tells me he wants to "tap out" of our interactions. Which makes perfect sense because I was acting like a goddamn mental case. Because he had contributed in making me a goddam mental case.

In the following weeks, we had no contact. But I had some growth. I need to set boundaries for myself. Just because someone asks a question, you don't have to answer. Don't do anything you are comfortable with. Don't feel guilty if two consenting adults decide to have fun.

The thoughts rattled around in my head and gradually I got more ok with my slutventures. I'm not ashamed that I like sex and sometimes have sex with someone who I don't love and who doesn't love me. So while I call myself a slut, or make self-deprecating jokes about my situation, I really don't have a problem with my life. I make mistakes. All the time.  But I'm making my own choices.

Epilogue: 5 months later Dr Phil texted to ask how I was doing and would I like to meet up and give him a bj again because I'm "dynamite" at it. That was definitely an offer I turned down.

And then another 2 months later he turned up sniffing around again. He got huffy when I wouldn't meet with him or send him sexy pictures. Hopefully he's gone for good.

Saturday, October 25, 2014

One example of why people suck

 My tinder profile says, in part, "I'm so fucking awesome, you don't even know."
This guy asked if I really am that awesome. I'd been dumped earlier that night so I said, I'm usually pretty awesome, but tonight is an off day.

No idea why he was so rude.

Tuesday, October 21, 2014

No One Gives a Shit About Your Stupid Boner

I understand that its Tinder. And I understand that the perception is that its just for hooking up. And I understand that I only show you guys the disastrous conversations.

But holy shit, I wish guys could be more subtle. Or gentlemanly. Or polite. Or interested in me as a goddamn human being.

Monday, October 20, 2014

This is a joke right? RIGHT??

Blah, blah, blah, I know everyone has their own kinks, but homeboy over here is just announcing it for all the world to see. The internet is a crazy place y'all.

Saturday, October 18, 2014


His name wasn't Bert but we went to Bert's Pub in Bothell. Bert and I met on Tinder and set a time to meet for drinks.

I arrived at the pub first. It was a dive, which I am in no way opposed to. But it had a rough vibe. I wasn't entirely comfortable. I found a booth with a view of the door, and my back to the wall so I could wait for Bert. And keep eyes on the other characters in the bar.

Bert had advertised his height at 6 foot. He was my height. I am 5'8. I can tell that you are not taller than me. It boggles the mind why every guy adds inches to his height. His pictures did not hint at this but he was rather slender. In a way that was feminine but I can describe why.

He opened a tab and we chatted. We chatted about all kinds of first date stuff. Where did you grow up? Any siblings? Any pets? How do you like  your job? Etc.

Bert was not really my dream guy but he seemed nice enough. We decided to move our party down the street to a restaurant. By this time, most places were closing. We found another bar and ordered French Fries, or something greasy. I don't remember. I do remember getting hot chocolate.

After eating, he drove me back to my car. And we kissed. And kissed. And he asked me to come back to his place or offered to come to my place. I politely declined. We kissed some more.

I never heard from him again.

Because I was still early in my dating experiments, I was so fucking pathetic. I sent two texts. One, the next day, thanking him again for a good time. No response. A few days later I sent a text asking what I had done wrong, so I could improve for future dates with others. No response.

I was a bit pathetic. But I just don't understand why you would want to make out with someone you never want to see again. Did he lose interest because I didn't go home with him? The questions weighed on me for a while. I eventually decided this wasn't worth worrying about. Not everyone clicks. He wasn't my type, maybe I wasn't his.

C'est la vie.

Friday, October 17, 2014


In high school, I was in the awkward position of not having a date to the Valentine's Dance. My friend Krissy set it up so that I would go with "Beeker," a guy from our circle of friends. He was tallish and skinny and very smart and very awkward.

We went to dinner. He paid. We went to the dance. We had a very unremarkable time but started dating. It almost seemed like it was out of obligation on both our parts. "Well I'm not doing anything better. Sure, I'll be your boy/girlfriend." Laziest relationship ever.

Frankly, I was embarrassed by him. I didn't want anyone to see us together. When popular girls would ask who I was dating, I would couch my reply to make it known that I was not that into Beeker. I was a bitch.

For his part, Beeker took me out to dinners and movies and in return, I'd let him slobber all over my face and call it kissing. We also experimented with awkward fumbling in the backseat of a car or in my basement or in his room.

I vividly remember dreading talking to him on the phone. Krissy had put the idea in Beeker's head that he needed to make more of an effort with me. This translated to nightly phone calls. Which were painful and boring and I could barely hear them. If you spend all day at school and in the same social circle with someone, there isn't much more to debrief about on the phone EVERY night. Adding to my irritation was the fact that I couldn't hear him well. I'd crank the volume on the phone to the max level. I'd remind him not speak up. I'd ask him not to mumble. It didn't matter, I could only hear about 45 % of these nightly chats.

One night, I think he was talking about lizards? We'd been having our usual late night snoozefest conversation when my brain registered that he'd hung up  the phone on his end. The fuck? Somehow I was able to get my brain to replay the last 30 seconds or so:

"Beeker": So what do you think?

Me: ...Silence because I'd checked out.

"Beeker": Are you there?

Me:...Silence because I'd checked out.

"Beeker:" Ok, bye.

I had spaced out! I straight up ignored him on the phone. I'm the worst.

Beeker and I broke up after 8 months together because I decided I'd rather be Jesse's Girl. But because I was a coward, I never said anything to Beeker. My friend Krissy saw me hanging in a park with Jesse and told Beeker about it. He never said anything either. We never had a fight about it, just never really talked again.

I hear he's still very tall and very smart and very awkward.

Thursday, October 16, 2014

Robert #1

Robert and I met on OKCupid. We had a lot in common, only children, a love of Calvin and Hobbes, little things but we built a good conversation and picked a Saturday to meet for dinner.

For our first date, he brought me Game of Thrones Season 4 on a flash drive. A thoughtful gesture since he knew I hadn't seen it yet. Throughout dinner there were awkward silences and I wasn't sure we were clicking.

After dinner we planned to go to one of my favorite dive bars to play trivia together. When the trivia host announced there were 8 rounds of trivia, Robert looked pained. "We don't have to stay," I offered, "I know this is quite the time commitment for a first date." But he said we could stay and play, so we did. I was pretty on point that night. Robert talked a big game about being good at trivia, but he didn't really pull his weight.

After trivia, he wanted to move to a quieter bar. So we did. I was getting weird vibes from him. The awkward silences still happened. There was no physical contact and I was pretty sure Robert was not interested.

We had another round of drinks at the afterhours bar. Then he held my hand and drove me home. At some point in the date, he had made a joke that he ended dates, "with a firm handshake." We parked in my driveway. I thanked Robert for dinner and drinks and going to trivia with me. I asked for my firm handshake. He grabbed my hand and pulled me in for a kiss.

What a kiss.

We went inside and made out on the couch until midnight. He was easily one of the top 3 kissers of all time. I had been only sort of attracted to him, but a kiss like that could drop panties. A kiss like his makes a smart girl stupid.

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

I could really use a hug

I once had a man tell me that I was "so messed up, its not even funny," and that "no man in his right mind would stay with me."

Every time I have a bad date or a breakup, or even just a bad conversation with a guy,  I get the sinking feeling that I'll be alone forever because that man was right.

I am messed up. And I don't know why any man would stay with me.

I'm skittish. I'm temperamental. I talk a lot. I have a bad habit of interrupting because I get excited with something to say. I have limited availability because my Kiddo comes first. I keep my guard up. I don't trust easily.


I want to believe there is a man out there who will love me anyway.

A man who will think I'm beautiful.
Who will love my brain as much as my body.
Who looks forward to coming home at the end of the day to pull me in close for a kiss
Who knows I can't stand surprises
Who pulls off small, good surprises anyway
Who will just let me have an afternoon to myself sometimes
Who loves to read
Who has at least a passing interest in sports
Who is good with his hands
Who is handy around the house
Who knows I'm stubborn
Who knows that I'm slow to apologize, but will wait for it. Because I do accept fault.
Who understands that he isn't being asked to be my Kiddo's dad, but is being asked to be kind to the kid.

I am difficult. I am stubborn. I am feisty.
But I'm also loving. I'm fun. I'm smart. I'm compassionate. I'm thoughtful. I'm passionate. I'm clever. I'm adventurous. I'm bold.

I just hope I'm enough.

Tiger = Cock?

Did you know? Besides being #BasicAsFuck those tigers that all the bros pose with in their Tinder pictures are all drugged up. So part of my Tinder profile says, "I hope that tiger mauls you." 

Tuesday, October 14, 2014


Sydney and I met on OKCupid. Sid was a big hockey fan, as am I, but we root for rival teams. We had some witty back and forth. We both had very busy schedules (me because I'm a mom, him because he plays on more intramural teams than an overeager college freshman).We set a time to meet for drinks with the caveat that he has another party to be at at 9pm.

This is already a little irritating because it puts a time limit on our date and makes me feel like I'm going to be sandwiched into his schedule. Way to make a girl feel special. I understand it was a first date and he doesn't have to make me feel special, but its not exactly flattering for a date to basically tell you that they can squeeze you in between 6-8. I'm a classy ass bitch, not an appointment to get your teeth cleaned.

I get to the bar first and listen to a drunk girl and her boyfriend argue about what kind of puppy to get. I think they settled on pug. Mazel Tov.

Sid arrives in a raggedy NHL shirt and a fraying baseball cap. He's a little chubbier and balder and shorter than my preference, but I'm trying not to be so judgey. We start to talk about hockey, he talks about his very large family, he talks about his job, he talks about the trip he is taking next week, he talks about the party he is going to after our date. He talks and talks and talks.

I play along with this because I like to hear about other people and because people like to talk about themselves and they like people who let them talk about themselves. We had two or three drinks and then he realizes he is late to his party. He does pick up the tab (+1!) and asks me to drive him around the corner to his house.

I drop Sid off in his driveway and we make out because I like kissing and he likes me. He continues to text me throughout the night while at the party, getting progressively more drunk. He asks what I'm doing the next day and I list a few activities, including a first date with someone else. (a story for another day). He insists I should cancel the date. Sid says we have a connection and that I should not go out with anyone else. This pisses me right the hell off because 1) we went on one date and I don't owe him shit and 2) I never like being told what to do. I tell him I'm going on the other date tomorrow, end of discussion.

The next morning, more sober, Sid apologizes for being so bossy. He further explains he is just worried that I will like this other guy more. I tell him I can't make any promises. Sid says that he really feels a connection between us and throughout the whole date had a feel in he described as "Why did it take so long to meet you?" While this should be adorable, I'm put off because he only likes me because he knows nothing about me.

Our busy schedules keep us from meeting up again but we text often. One day my buddy Steph was meeting me after work for dinner at my house. She has the access code for my garage and for some reason this came up in discussion with Sid. Sid's response is to say "I'm glad you are having a friend over. I worry about you living on your own."  WHAT THE FUCK? I'm a grown ass woman you barely know. It offends me that anyone would think I'm not capable of living by myself.

I ignore this comment and Sid for the better part of a day. I relate this story to my mom who deems this "sweet that he worries about you." Have I overreacted? I resume texting Sid and ignore the "living on your own" comment.

Sid goes out of town for a week and our contact is sporadic. I don't care because I'm barely invested in this guy. Then one fine morning, I wake up to a text from Sid, "I'm so sorry but I realized I'm in love with one of my friends that I've known forever. We can still be hockey watching friends if you want."


Wednesday, October 8, 2014

The Wounded Ego

I mean, I like sex, but I personally find that its more fun if I care about the guy and he cares about me. 

Tuesday, October 7, 2014

David #2

So remember David? Right. For some reason (*cough* low self esteem *cough*), I agreed to go out with David again.

This time I drove over to his neck of the woods. At this point, its relevant to mention that although David has approximately seven jobs, he did not have a permanent place of residence. He lived on the second floor of his friend's business. The first floor of the building was a very industrial space with saw dust and metal shavings everywhere and large pieces of machinery that I have no idea as to their function or name.

David showed me around and he let me use the huge machines on scrap wood and metal. Another unconventional date, but interesting at least.

Side note, weird, uncomfortable, scary, awkward and unconventional are all preferable to me than boredom. I cannot stand a boring date.

So David continues the tour and shows me a space at the back of the building. The building is very old and this particular room, as he shows me, is entirely insulated by horsehair. Its completely sound proof. Because I am a paranoid person, I immediately begin plotting an escape. I am not going to be murdered in the soundproof room in an industrial neighborhood at 7 on a Tuesday. I won't allow it. never mind that David is 8 inches taller and at least 100 lbs heavier.

I plan a doomed escape for about 5 minutes. David is a perfectly nice guy. He likes me a whole lot and during the tour, stops every five minutes or so to make out with me. He is definitely in the top 5 of all time best kissers. But I can't shake the uneasy feeling. Frankly, he scares me. I have no reason for it, its just an instinct, which for the time being, I ignore.

David drives my car to a nearby Taco Truck. He forgot or "forgot" his wallet so I buy the tacos and horchata. David is not shy and not boring. He's tall and handsome and strong. But something feels off.

We go back to the industrial business' building and go upstairs to the area where David is staying. Its a large sectional couch with a TV. Its basically the very casual break room for the office workers at this company. I have serious concerns that David is homeless or a squatter. Inexplicably I stay because I don't want to be rude and know that if I didn't want me to leave, he could easily physically prevent me from leaving.

David turns on the TV and puts on the Discovery channel if I recall correctly. We start making out and are naked rather quickly. I feel bad for kicking him out of my house so quickly last time so I let him go down on me. I'm way too stressed for an orgasm to be possible so I return the favor to completion. He gives me a backrub and comments on how tense I seem. When I feel like I've stayed long enough to be a good guest (wtf is wrong with me?) I say my goodbyes and leave.

And I still didn't learn my lesson. I know, I know, shake your head at me but there is a David #3 entry in our future. Not long after the "date" described above David left to work in another state for the summer. We kept in contact throughout and I was eagerly awaiting his return. I guess because he liked me. Even though I had serious reservations about him.

Guys, I'm kind of a disaster and this blog could go on for quite a while because I sure know how to pick em!

Friday, October 3, 2014

Eric's Return

So I wrote about Eric before, click here to get up to speed and then join us here.

Back? Excellent, it's so good to see you again! I love what you've done with your hair.

So after I kicked Eric out of my house for being a lying liar who lies out of his lie-hole, he texted me for a few days, trying to see if I would go out with him again. #nothanks
Eventually the texts stopped coming and that was more than fine with me.

A few months later, I was at the court mandated parenting class. In my county, when you file for divorce and have a child(ten) you have to take a day long class about how to not let your divorce mess up your kid. I explain this because I don't want you to think I'm a deadbeat. I'm not. I'm a pretty good mom, which I think is the best anyone can say about themselves without looking like a conceited beeyotch. But your mileage may vary.

So anyways, I'm at this class early on a Saturday, kicking myself for not bringing a beverage. A woman sits down next to me. And next to her is Eric. They are a couple. Interesting. I guess he did file for divorce eventually.

He looks over and sees me and gets the most obvious "OH SHIT" look on his face. I just smile sweetly.

This class has a break in the middle so you can eat or walk around or in one woman's case shoot up heroin in the bathroom and then get arrested. But I digress, Eric's new lady strikes up a conversation with me. I subtly deduce that they started dating shortly after I opted not to waste more time on that liar. Poor new girl is already all wrapped up in Eric's life and his daughters sound very attached to her. It all sounds like this guy is rebounding hard and I would know because whoo boy! I did that too.

Glad I dodged that bullet.


Thursday, October 2, 2014

Are You Fucking Kidding Me?

Maybe I'll just quit all the dating sites, get 6 more cats and morph into an alcoholic cat lady. What fresh hell is this?

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

Jesse's Girl

In high school I made a lot of stupid decisions. Shocking right?

My friend Krissy and I went through a phase where we thought 80s music was the shit. All 80s all the time. Of course, this included the Rick Springfield classic "Jesse's Girl." I needed to be Jesse's girl.

Another friend Elle started dating some Forgettable Guy who went to a public school. Since I moved mid-high school, I only had friends from school. Since it was a private school it was smallish. So public school guys were an untapped market for me.

Forgettable Guy (FG from here on out) was from the wrong side of the tracks according to Elle's mom and she was forbidden to see him. But much like Romeo and Juliet, love, (or teenage hormone fueled lust) found a way. Elle and I would tell our moms we were at the library. Elle and FG would make out at his house and I would entertain myself. Until FG found a friend for me.

His name was Jesse. I have to use his real name because its the whole reason he was briefly a part of my life. He wasn't particularly attractive but he had an electric confidence that drew me in anyways. He was a sloppy kisser. His tongue seemed to be three sizes too big. He was forever drinking some flavor of Sobe that made his mouth taste all coconut-y which was disgusting to me.

Twas a brief fling that lasted no more than a month, which is around the time Elle decided FG wasn't worth her time either. But now I can say, damn right Rick Springfield, I was (briefly) Jesse's girl.