Do these boots make me look slutty?

I sent this picture to a couple of my lady friends and asked for their opinion as to whether or not these skinny, holey jeans and boots give off an impression of sluttiness.  Or rather, "non-mommy" material. 

We all know that women take great pains when it comes to dressing for dates, because the first impression is so vitally important.  If you look hot, you feel hot and if you're feeling your date - - you might get laid! 

For me, this fashion choice was a little more...strategic.  You see, the dude as 7 kids.

Yes.  S-E-V-E-N.  From ages 4 to 23.  And, he's only 39.  (Do the math!)  So, the overall goal was to look as "non-mommy" as possible.  According to a couple of friends, the brown boots showed above were not slutty enough, so I changed into a pair of black stiletto knee high boots, and there was 100% agreement that that look was sluttier.  (Which makes me think a little, because I wear those boots almost every day!  OMG.) 

Why did I agree to go on a date with a guy who pays child support for a basketball team?  I've been on so many crappy dates recently and he seemed genuinely excited about meeting me.  Nor did he approach the subject of sex during our conversations and he didn't show me his penis.  And, hello.  FREE BEER! 

Come on.  You know you were thinking it too, by now.  As my friend likes to say, "a girl's gotta eat."  

The date, meh.  I found out that he has 3 baby-mamas to go with his commune of kids.  All 3 women he married and all of the children were planned.  Oh...and, he cheated on ALL of his wives with multiple partners.  It's very obvious that the guy can't keep his willy in his pants (or covered with a thin barrier).  For a moment, I thought that the lower portion of my outfit might work against me and make him see me as the "next mommy" but luckily he caught onto my signs of displeasure and foreseeable rejection. 

This date did get me thinking.  How much is *too much* to reveal?  Revealing that you cheated on all of your wives throughout the duration of your marriage(s) isn't really going to show you in the best of light.  I can't imagine wanting to hop right into his bed.  Or, maybe - like my "non-mommy material" boots, his revelation was his way of waving his own white flag and subliminally telling me that he wasn't interested as well.  No explanation needed. 

Dating is all about the signals, good and bad. 

On a side note - Wombat fashioned a post about sexual planning from a comment I made about one of my favorite sexual positions.  I may or may not have a slight crush on Wombat.  His use of the english language kinda makes me weak in the knees.  Check out Kiss And Blog! 

Someone pick me up off the floor - I'm laughing too hard

Just when you thought you'd seen it all and nothing could surprise you - this happens.

I got a message from a guy yesterday.  We went back and forth for a bit, then hopped onto the chat feature and took it from there.  He was very complimentary of my photos and profile and said that I seemed like a really nice girl that he was interested in getting to know better.  He asked if he could call me later that night, which I agreed to and we exchanged phone numbers.  He then asked if I had facebook, which - HELLO!  All the cool kids are on facebook...of course I am as well.  He sent a facebook friend request and I sat on that for about an hour before my own curiosity got the best of me.  I approved him, then started digging through his pictures.  (I realize that's a bit stalkerish - but I assume he was doing the same.)  Then very suddenly and without warning...he defriended me. 

I know there are some pretty ugly pictures that I've been tagged in, but really?  LOL 

So - I went back to our chat session, which had still been on-going and he had blocked me! 

I was pretty dumbfounded, to say the least.  So, shaking my head at the ridiculousness of it all, I texted him this morning.  Because, after all...he gave me his phone number.  Sucker!  So, I let my fingers do the talking. 

I really hope that if you try talking to women in the future, and if they open up a private space for you, don't use that against them.  I have no idea what made you decide that I'm not worthy to talk to, but whatever.  If you're as honest as you claim to be, I'm sure you would've told me.  And that bullshit about being raised by a single mother...shelve it please.  You have absolutely no integrity. 

And that's when I found out that *I* was the sucker!

Who is this?  I think you have the wrong number.  I'm in North Carolina and I don't know anyone in area code xxx.  Where is that anyway?

(Oh good god!  Really?  REALLY?!) 

I'm sorry!  Some guy named xxx is giving your number out on a dating site.  I apologize.  I was played.

xxx you say?  That's my son's daddy.  U must be in xxx.  He's up there visiting for wedding.  He's crazy.  He lives in NC, owns a home here.  He's just looking for a lay sounds like.  He played me too, except now we have a son together. 

(Hmmm...he told me he didn't have kids.  And, that he moved to my area several months ago and was looking for someone to show him around.)

He didn't admit to a child.  This is so fucked up!  Go onto a dating site and give your ex-girlfriend's number out?!  I'm so sorry.  I've met a number of weirdos...but he takes the cake.  I hope you don't get more girls yelling at you like I did, thinking it was him.

Wow, he is too funny.  He owns a custom home building company in Charlotte.  I know he didn't move to xxx.  He packed a suitcase for a week and has round trip airfare. I do know that he is staying at the xxx in xxx.  Hate to ask this, but are you a stripper?  He only messes with them.  Guess that's why he liked me...haha. 

(OMG!  Did he think I was a stripper?! Like a really HOT stripper, or one of those ugly-ass phone sex operator strippers with saggy boobs and a penis tucked into their asshole?) 

LOL.  That's a nice hotel.  I can't say this enough...I'm sorry you were dragged into this.  It's really unfair to you.  I still have no idea why he would give your number.  I am not a stripper, although I once took an exotic dance class...which I didn't reveal to him. 

Sweet!  Hey listen, you sound nice, if you want to talk to him on-line again, don't tell him I told you this, but he's MARRIED.  He gave you my number because he's an asshole.

(Awesome.  Married.  With a separate baby mama.  What a catch.)

WOW!!! It just keeps getting better!  LOL.  You sound like a great girl too. 

We should be facebook friends.

Let's do it.

And there you have it.  You can be anything you want on-line.  You can block, delete and defriend all day long.  But if you give out someone else's phone number, and they know your ass intimately - and it's not someone who believes in bro-code, you can't expect them to keep quiet on your douche'baggery. 

I can only hope that my new friend doesn't get herself into too much trouble, but I do have to admit that I am STILL laughing from all of these new developments and have no intention of throwing her under the bus.  Besides, I have since blocked him, so he can't see our new budding friendship develop.  :)   

It's funny...I was once afraid when I first started this blog that I wouldn't have enough stories to keep it going.  I now firmly believe that there are enough freaks and weirdos in the dating world to sustain me for a lifetime.  Now, if only Prince Charming would come down and wrap me in his golden cloak of normalcy!  However I once read somewhere that Prince Charming was gay...so that wouldn't work for me either. 

Interesting developments in the case of the creeper

Which creeper you ask? 

I know.  There's been quite a few.  I'm specifically speaking about the one last week - whom I was excited about meeting, then met and actually felt bad about the way things turned out.  I may have cried, if I remember correctly.  I know I went home feeling like a big pile of flaming dog shit.

Last night, as I was killing time and multi-tasking, I came across a profile I had not seen before. 

The skies opened up, my eyes got big, I let out a huge sigh of relief and  followed with a long drawn out chuckle.  Although I did not necessarily dodge a bullet - because, after all I still had the pleasure of meeting the kid - I did have the gumption to leave before anything bad happened to myself or my wallet.  It sounds as though others did not.

Behold the words of the vigilante*:

For those of you ladies who have had the pleasure (I mean heartache) of dating/meeting/chatting with MD198333, mrromantic0903, or now mr. romantic (aka Tim), he just changed his name, then please be aware that he is a con. He dates multiple women and doesnt use protection...if you know what I mean. His profile is false and he is nothing he claims to be. I am only here to warn as many girls that would like to be warned. If you choose to get ahold of him then good luck to you cuz he will womanize you. I am only looking out for others so they don't have to put up with his lies. But when you find out the truth, please don't say you weren't warned. Please be careful as he is also jealous, insecure and has a temper at times.
Just in case he happens to change his screen name again, his real name is Tim and he claims he is a Dr/PA/orthopedic surgeon...but he's definitely not. If you meet up with him his wallet will somehow be "lost" or his ATM accounts will be "frozen" and will not have money. He is NOT a millionaire! He will also be quick to try to kiss you or get physically involved...most likely by going to a park. I've also been informed that he also has been on craigslist, cupid.com and possibly other dating sites.

I use this blog as a means to keep myself entertained on these dates I subject myself to.  I have to admit that I love the idea of someone creating a fake profile (as a man, so the women will be the ones to see it), and letting out this guys dirty laundry!  Why had no one thought of this before?!  It really could've saved me a load of time and effort.  LOL.  Although, then there would be no juicy stories to pass on. 

I did reply to the person and told him/her of my experience and commended them on thinking of this form of communication to stop a predator.  I have received no answer yet.

*In my head, I want to think that the owner of the fake profile is this guys best friend who is looking out for the female population as a whole, because he's disgusted at how this low-life treats the fairer sex.  I may also imagine that he wears a superhero costume and has special powers, but truth of the matter is, it's probably just a woman scorned.

Real men don't eat "morsels"

I used to like morsels.  Little chocolate drops of goodness in my cookies, patented by Nestle Toll House.  Now, when I hear the word, a chill goes down my spine and gives me the willies - and all because I once went on a couple of dates with a guy who refused to eat normal sized meals.  It was just weird. 

For the record, I know that's a pretty shitty reason not to pursue a relationship with someone.  The actual excuse I gave was his clingy'ness was overwhelming - which it was - but his appetite of a bird was the true reason for the separation.  If there is one thing I know about my rules of attraction, is that I like manly men.  Manly men don't eat bite sized meals, just like they don't eat quiche...they scarf down 20 oz. steaks!  If I'm cooking for a man, I want him to eat my food with gusto and help himself to seconds, not pick at the plate like a little girl. 

We chatted for a while before meeting.  This was way before I was suckered into creating a profile on-line.  I was scoping out the awesome men on the Craigslist Personals.  (Which honestly, in my experience is creepy, but did produce better dates than the ones I met on an actual "dating site.") He was a genuinely nice guy - new to the area, a professional photographer specializing in naturalist art.  He asked me out for dinner to a lovely Thai place and thus is started.

I was famished when I arrived for the date and really excited to try their pad thai, which is one of my favorite dishes.  Even now, my mouth is watering just typing about it!  I glanced at the menu, but I knew what I had my heart set on, so when the waitress came over to take our order, I didn't hesitate at all.  Of course, this is also when I learned that you should discuss your food choice with your date.  I excitedly ordered the pad thai, extra spicy, and he ordered an appetizer. 

The thought and worry that went through my mind at that time were a little "female crazy."  Did I misunderstand him when he said he wanted to go to dinner?  Did I unknowingly order the most expensive thing on the menu?  Why isn't he eating?  Did he already peg me for someone he wasn't interested in, so he ordered something small so that he could get out the date fast?  Can he not afford this place?  I'm going to be eating in front of him while he sits and watches me!  I should've ordered something small too, because now I feel like I'm going to owe him!  God, he thinks I'm a fatso.  I know...I'll just eat half and take the rest to go - - or offer to share.  Ahhh....what if he pulls that move that you see in movies where the guy feeds the girl?  That's so stupid.  Fuck that!  If he wants to eat off my plate without swapping spit first, I'm outta here.  Oh god, my stomach just growled.  Wait!  Here comes my food! 

Yup.  That was pretty much the internal monologue I had.

And true to form, he finished his 3 dumplings first, and I ate in front of him for the next 15 minutes. 

After our plates were collected (and my leftovers put into a handy container for me to take home), I asked him why he didn't order a meal. 

"I like small morsels of food."

Honestly, I didn't know where to go from there.  Obviously, the men I've dated or had relationships in the past were great big food loving hogs - and I appreciated that.  This whole thing was so new to me, and not new in a good way.  The date ended casually, he walked me to my car and gave me a big hug before we parted ways.  I immediately texted a friend who was out with a couple of girlfriends - and met them out for a nightcap. 

"Guys...he eats morsels. What the fuck are morsels?  That's just weird."

"Stop finding the perceived negative in people and just give him a chance for fuck's sake.  You are being way to shallow." 

That's my girl...always ready to kick my ass the way real friends do.

Mr. Morsel didn't wait until the pre-requisite 3 days to call me again.  I heard from him the next day, asking me out again for the next weekend.  I swallowed my shallowness and said yes, thinking I can play this game and eat small bites too.  Funny thing, he suggested a fancier place with a well known chef who is known for their small bites - mainly a dish made of pork belly.  (Yum.  I've only heard rumors of this pork belly dish and now was excited about my own morsel experience!)

Second date was good and lasted for hours.  Plates of morsels littered our table as we both picked at the spread before us.  This date ended with a kiss, which was very nice.  It happened in the street between our cars and actually caused a pedestrian to whistle and proclaim that it was inspiring to see two people in love.  Ummm...

The getting to know you phase lasted another couple of weeks, followed by a dinner at my house, which I painstakingly prepared and filled with, you guessed it, small morsels.  That's when I realized that I hated cooking in that way and the constant state of cling'dom came on full force.  This was not going to work. 

And really, it wasn't him...it was me.  Some people have their quirks and although his as such a small drop in the bucket, I couldn't deal with it.  Food is so sensual, and the preparation of food in particular.  It's a way for me to show my desire for someone - and in this entire dating cycle, he is the only one I've ever prepared a "meal" for...and it sadly, just didn't work for me.  

Truth be told, there is someone out there that will snatch him up in a heartbeat.  That someone just wasn't me.

My 'picker' is off

I am a certified loser magnet. 

I could probably end this post right there and not continue to dwell on what happened last night, but for the sake of this blog and any other loser magnet that may stumble across these ramblings, I will write it all out. 

I went on my date last night with this guy, you know...the guy I claimed to have high hopes for?  And, I did.  Yes, there was the age difference, but at this point in the game, it really didn't matter to me that much.  We spend a good chunk of time on the phone over the last couple of days talking about the usual stuff.  He "passed" all of my pre-date requirements.  He has obviously played this game before because I was fooled.

The date was his to plan.  Being new to the area himself, I was very interested to see what he would come up with - and gave him a couple of ideas to help him along.  (ex: coffee at this really cool little place.)  Later in the day, he said to meet him in the parking lot outside of the movie theaters and we'd go from there.  Oooooo....mysterious!

Sitting through my committee meeting was torture!  I kept looking at the clock.  Luckily, I was the one running it, so I was able to keep everyone else on track and got out of there with minutes to spare.  On my way to the rendezvous, I got a text from him saying "So, I was thinking we could go to your house if we hit it off."  Ummm....no.  I explained that I wanted to have a first meeting in public and was looking forward to getting to know him. I pulled into the parking lot, found him and walked over to his car.  I sat down, and it went positively downhill from there.

The conversation went as follows:
Me: Hi, xxx.  Nice to finally meet you.
Him: Can I kiss you?
Me: Ummm...I guess.  (Thinking it would be a swift peck on the cheek.)
*insert tongue down my throat here*
Me: (pulling myself out of his grasp) I wasn't expecting that exactly.
Him: I really like you.
Me: So, what have you got planned for us?
Him: Let's go back to your place.
Me: I already told you that I'm not going to do that.  Why don't we go have a beer?
Him: I have to insert a heart cath into a patient in the morning, so I'm not drinking tonight.
Me: Oh, ok.  That's fine.  How about a cup of coffee?
Him: I don't drink caffeine at night.
Me: Did you eat dinner yet?  (Fair question...I had not, being stuck in a meeting.)
Him: Yes.  And, I'm not going to sit in a restaurant and watch you eat.  I also think it's boring to just sit and talk.  I want to do something.
Me: How about bowling?
Him: How about we just go back to your house?
Me: No.  I'm firm on that, so please respect my wishes to not bring a stranger back to my place.  I would like to sit and talk to you and get to know you better.  I've been on some pretty bad dates and I'm trying to learn from those dates.
Him: I think you're judging me for the bad dates you've been on. 
Me: I may be, and I'm sorry.  I just prefer not to be hurt.
Him: I think that we just chalk this meeting up to being two different people who want different things.
Me: OK.  So, I guess I'll just leave then.  You've already made up your mind that since I won't invite you over tonight, that you'd rather not get to know me.
Him: We can just go back to your place.
*I start digging for my keys in my bag*
Me: I'm terribly sorry if you felt you wasted your time.  If you get home and think these past ten minutes over and you'd like to actually go and do something fun to get to know each other - I'm free on Friday night. 
Him: I already told you my life story.  You know all about me.
Me: No I don't.  You can't learn about people in a couple of phone conversations.  And, it would've been nice for you to try to learn more about me.  Take care.

So - I get out of his grasp and start to walk back to my car.  What I hadn't noticed in the time I was in his car, is that it started to rain.  Without looking back, I can hear that he put his car into drive and was pulling out.  He left the parking lot before I even unlocked my car. 

His self proclaimed "maturity" went out the window.  This kid was a fool.  I was a fool.  And, what makes it more scary for me is that he was getting so aggressive - pulling my arm and locking the door - I was a little concerned for my well being.  That's a fucking HORRIBLE feeling, let me tell you.  And one reason I insist upon meeting in a public place.  If I had known that the conversation was going to go down in that way, I would've never gotten out of my car. 

Driving home, I got really angry...at myself mostly.  It seems as though every guy I get excited about, let's me down.  Is the cure to that becoming totally jaded?  How fair is it to go on a first date with someone and not at least try.  Lord knows I've been on some lousy dates, but to my credit I do really try to engage and be funny, even if I'm not feeling the person.  (Unless, you're him...then all bets are off.)  Was this just some kind of big elaborate plan just to get me into bed - be super nice for several days so my guard is down, because you are so great that I will automatically drop my panties within 5 minutes of actually meeting you?! 

I called my friend for a little feminine therapy, because sometimes it's nice to hear other people swear and make fun of people they don't know.  I then asked the age old question from most singles - "Why don't you and your husband have any cute single guy friends? Can you get on that please?"  Needless to say, that then sparked a whole facebook friend overhaul and now the quest is on to find a non-creeper for their friend Miz Adventures. 

God help us.

High hopes for date night

I have another first date tonight.  I'm trying to remain optomistic, but it really is getting a little...old.  I admit it, I'm jaded.  Completely and utterly jaded.  I'm trying so desperately not to imagine all of the bad things I know I will find in this guy - starting with his tender young age.  (Why I am attracted to guys 10 years my junior when I *know* this will not work out?!  And, why for the love of all things holy, are they attracted to me?!) 

Pro's:
He's tall.
Has a good job.
2 degrees - both in the science field, so he's intelligent.
He spells everything correctly.
He has man hands.
He volunteered in Africa building schools, so he knows how to use those man hands.
He has amazing green eyes.
He made me laugh.
He kept my attention on the phone, and offered up details about his family without hesitation. 
He's a transplant to this area, so that opens a ton of new adventure.
He lives alone.
He complimented me on my own language skills and said I had a sexy voice.
He likes sports.

Con's:
His age.  He's 26.  I'm not. 
His parents died when he was young, and he's an only child.  Not a happy childhood.
He seems a little too excited to meet me.  (This is scary.)
He had two degrees by the time he was 19.
He has three bullet wounds from doing medic work in Afganistan with the military.

The age thing has been acknowledged by both of us.  It's not that big of a deal for me now, but I can see it being one if things work out.  For him, he said that he's always gravitated towards older women because he's experienced so much in life thus far, that he has nothing in common with women his own age.  In speaking with him, he is on the more mature side...but he looks like a baby!

Hmmmm...I should probably just chill out and go with the flow, right?  Right.

An update from dates past...

Men have come and gone, but some are like fruit flies - resilient little boogers that will WILL NOT go away.  And, I seem to be the sickingly sweet nectar they are attracted to.  HA!

The Pube Nazi.  Our first, and only real-life meeting was in June, not long after I started into the realm of on-line dating.  He texted me again shortly after telling me that we weren't a match because of my chosen down-there hair style.  Although I have not had the crazy, mind-blowing sex that I joked I would have with him...I still get little text messages from him at least once a week.  I usually reply back with something cute or smart, just enough to keep him entertained.  That hook I have into him must hurt by now. 

Our last interaction was today:
Pube Nazi: I hope you had a great Thanksgiving.  Maybe this week we can go out to dinner and you can see the new house.
Me: My holiday was lovely.  Thank you for asking - that's so sweet.  I still can't move from all of the food that went into my belly.
Pube Nazi: LOL.  I can't eat that much.
Me: Why?!  Are you on a diet?
Pube Nazi: Trying to keep my girlish figure.
Me: That is such a manly statement, I don't even have any kind of reply.
Pube Nazi: I know all the right things to say.

Indeed.  I'll let the conversation fizzle out at that.  I have no intention of seeing him again, but I'm (oddly) enjoying this game we seem to be playing.  I must say though, he is one of the most strikingly good looking people I have ever laid eyes on, so it is kind of a shame.

The Fucktard.  Oh Fucktard...you REALLY didn't play your cards right.  The dual personality is such a turn off, as is the passive aggressive behavior that you've displayed recently.  I did not let him help me move, even though I thought about it long and hard.  Several weeks ago, he started stalking my profile, sending me ":)" and ";)" via the email system.  Not much to respond to, buddy.  So, I've ignored...I mean, if you can't put a sentence together - why should I be bothered?  About a week ago I got this: "So, you obviously don't want me the way that I want you.  I've tried so hard to get your attention and start over.  Please contact me!"  A-huh.

Mr. 1%.  I thought I made it clear that I was not interested in your brand of Republican'ism?  Stop.  Please.  Mr. 1% has updated me on all the new and "interesting" things in his daily life since our date.  I have seen pictures of his Christmas tree, his favorite ornament and the new cocktail that he created...he also sent me descriptive texts about his Thanksgiving meal, his last workout and his plans for this evening (take out, beer and football).  In none of those messages did he ask a single thing about myself.  He just really, really digs himself! 

One of these days, I will write about the Morsel Guy.  He was a Craigslist find and recently started contacting me again - but he's being very subtle about it - so I'm letting that train wreck play out.

"I'm perfect."

Never did two words send such a horrid chill down my spine as those two did tonight.  "I'm perfect." 

Perfect for what?!  For yourself?  For the world?  For all of the throes of women batting down your door?  You've been single how long?  Oh, 8 years...yeah...well, chances are - YOU'RE NOT PERFECT!

And why exactly did I agree to go on a date with you?!

Yes - the date started out by the guy telling me he was perfect.  I actually tried to counter balance, asking him if he meant perfectly imperfect.  Nope.  He has his shit together, lives a wonderful life and is PERFECT.  And, here Mr. Perfect are the reasons you are not perfect, from a woman batty enough not to catch on to the warning signs beforehand: 

1. You have bad teeth...unless you live in England, that's not allowed. 
2. You have two earrings, and you wear hoops. 
3. You shoo'ed the waitress.
4. You walked out on your girlfriend without giving her a reason or a response.  (Interesting share, no?)
5. You couldn't read my body language AT ALL.
6. You couldn't remember something I had repeated twice.
7. You talked over me.
8. You were late.
9. You don't drink.  (Avoid people who don't drink!!!)
10. You told me that I was going to hell for saying that drinking a glass of wine with dinner is OK.
11. You insulted me no less than 5 times about my upbringing, my job choice, my lack of a formal education, my musical abilities and my choice of a hot chocolate over coffee.
12. You started arguing with me over my opinion of not wanting to have children until I was in a stable, committed relationship - or ever. 

I'm sure that if I spent more than 20 minutes with him, I could have more to add to the list - but after giving him several chances at redeeming himself, *I* decided that I didn't like his style of "perfect" and walked out.

I need a new list of questions to ask before meeting someone because something is getting lost in translation here....or I really am a huge loser magnet!

I'm about ready to stereotype all finance guys...like I do accountants!

Over the last several months of dating, I've been out with a number of guys who work in "finance."  Finance is such a loosely used term.  I mean, it could mean banking (as in...I'm a teller!), or investments, financial planning, insurance and even real estate.  In the realm of *my* dating, when I've met someone in finance, I usually get a guy who is not only full of himself, arrogant and rude, but also incredibly boring and sometimes a little creepy (referencing this post, date #1).  It's very hard not to remind some people that everyone's shit stinks.

(I must say though...the one who slipped through my fingers was an investment broker.  Its funny because life got in the way of us connecting.  His friend committed suicide and he became very introverted afterwards - and it's such a shame, because I think about him from time to time.  I may have just peeked at his facebook profile too.  Shhhhh....don't tell.)

My last date with a guy in finance didn't go very well. 

In fact, my eyes may still have that glassed over look to them because I feel like I'm still recovering.

He was late. STRIKE ONE. He lied about his height.  STRIKE TWO.  And, he proceeded to talk about himself, politics, the economy, health care and the 1%, and why they shouldn't have to pay taxes, for over an hour.  STRIKE THREE!!!  I'm not afraid of hot button issues, but wowza.  About 10 minutes into the conversation, he very smugly asked me if I knew who "owned" the Federal Reserve - probably because he wanted to prove how smart he was.  My response, as dead-panned as possible, was "The Federal Reserve is a private entity run by Ben Bernanki."  Silence on his end followed by a "Yes.  You're right." 

Yeah.  I know.  I'm not the idiot that you thought I was...and if you tried speaking to me, you might actually see that.  And yet, even with the outward change in my body language and the fact that I was staring at the clock, he still didn't let up on being a self-absorbed douchebag.  At one point, the female bartender came over and put another blue moon in front of me.  I looked at her questionably and whispered "I didn't order this."  She replied with "I know honey.  But you need it...and it's on me." 

Rolling. On. The. Floor. Laughing! 

After the hour-long monologue, Mr. Finance then got out of his seat, but his hand on my knee and asked me what I would think if he asked me back to his house. 

"I thought we were on the same page when I was thinking that we weren't really feeling each other." 

Then, the excuses started: he broke his own rule of talking more than he listened; he's a really nice guy if I just gave him a chance; he didn't want to push too fast...just a drink on the couch and no hanky-panky; girls need to relax a little and not judge every guy on the "relationship scale"; oh, I'm not saying you're basing your decision on the relationship scale; I think you're pretty and maybe we can go on another date...etc.  Again, I didn't get to say a word during any of that portion of the date either.  However I did get up, put my coat on and walk towards the door, with him at my heels.  Are you sure you won't change your mind?  I'm really great in bed.  You won't be disappointed. 

"You get to your car in safe manner.  It was nice to meet you.  Best of luck on your future endeavors." 

The End.  Or so I thought...unfortunately, he knows my number and how to text.  A lot.  What really sucks about the whole thing is that I met him at my favorite bar and now I'm afraid to go back there!

The 8 month blow off

I started my quest for love via internet dating (laugh along with me, please!) in March 2011.  On my first day on line, this guy started chatting with me.  The conversation wasn't deep, it wasn't sexual - it just...was.  Although I like to keep my profile somewhat vague, his was even more vague.  No useful information what-so-ever.  He doesn't live anywhere near my town, but travels in for work a couple times a month.  That immediately sent a red flag up, and thus began the 8-month excuse parade.

It almost became a game.

On Monday morning, he'd message me and ask me if I wanted to get dinner.  A couple of hours later I would reply with one of my planned excuses:

1-3. Work event and/or working late/early morning
4. Family dinner/party
5. Previous plans with friends
6. Car problems
7. Sick pets
8. Board Meeting
9. Upset stomach
10. Dating someone (such a lie, but it works!)
11. The President will be on TV
12. Yoga/Gym time
13. Someones coming over to fix my insert item here
14. The weather is supposed to be bad
15. I didn't shower today

And even with that ridiculousness, he still continued to contact me.  For 8 months he took the rejection like a man and it didn't phase him.  How could I be such a bitch when all he wanted was to sit down and have a beer?  So, I finally agreed.

Then, I got really nervous.  I made this guy wait 8 months for a fucking meeting!!!  For 8 months he put me on a pedestal and now *he* would be the one judging *me* and my personality!  What if I made him wait that long and I didn't live up to his standards?  What a waste of time on his part...for some reason, thinking that I was the cause of making someone waste time really got to me.  All I could do was be myself.  Novel thinking, eh?

And it was great.

Hmmmmmm...what was that Miz Adventures?

I said the date was great.  God damn it!

I got to the bar a little early, started a tab and ordered a Guinness.  About two minutes after my drink arrived, I felt a hand on my shoulder.  I turned around slowly and there he stood - like a prince off his stallion.  It was one of those rare times when I was pleasantly surprised that the guy was actually much better looking than his picture would indicate.  When he sat down, I really got to take a good look at him.  Strong jaw, nice eyes, really nice mouth, wide shoulders, thick arms...probably about 6'1''.  He wore a baseball cap that I assumed was hiding a bit of a receding hairline (and I was right - but not anything that made me gasp).  He also dressed well, smelled nice and had on new shoes.

He made me belly laugh and provided simple gestures that made me smile, like when he asked to look at my ring then held my hand for a second longer than I expected.  Throughout the conversation, we physically grew closer and closer until our legs touched and our body language provided just enough of a barrier to keep the bartender and other bar patrons away.  He told me that he knew he had to meet me when I said "it's a shit show" describing a part of our town. 

At the end of the night he walked me to my car. 

I can't believe that I was so stubborn about meeting him, but really - a 2 hour drive is a long distance.  I asked him when he would be in the area again and it won't be until after Thanksgiving.  I'm disappointed...but I can't act like it because I'm trying to just be cool and go with the flow.  He's a great guy, and totally my type.  For the time being, we have a standing date for whenever he's in town next. 

I'm going to try to remain realistic and treat this whole thing with caution because he did truly have a great time with him. 

I thought that having a guy proof and make changes to my profile would magically make the dating...better.

Several weeks ago, I spied a hilarious interview that fellow blogger Sophie did with a gentleman named Arlequin.  I thought I would ask Arlequin for some help on my internet dating profile, since what I have on there didn't seem to be doing me much good.  We emailed back and forth.  I revealed my identity.  (Yikes!)  He, kindly gave me some genuine feedback which I gladly accepted.  I will say that I am not surprised that he thought I should change my picture to one that had my boobs on display!

After taking out some of my interests - "Who are you trying to attract, a woman?" - and spicing up the body of the profile with a "call to action," I unveiled the new profile for interested men.

It's hasn't done a lick of good!

My first date was with a guy who reminded me of a young John Lennon, minus the long hair.  We chatted for a couple of days and then he very spur of the moment asked if I was free one night - that he wanted to buy me dinner and drinks.  We chose a sports bar and met up.  During the entire date, he stared at me.  I totally didn't realize that I had entered a staring competition!  I tried to keep the mood light, cracking jokes and telling stories, but all he did was stare.  Finally, after our bill was settled I got up to leave, and he said "So...do you want to go back to your place and fuck?"

Um...no.  You are a creeper.  And who asks a woman that?! 

Funny part in that whole story is that my phone then decided that it should suggest that I should be friends with this guy on facebook, so after knowing only his first name I then got a glimpse into why he didn't reveal (and I didn't ask) what his last name is.  Tinkler.  As in, taking a tinkle.  The funniest part is that his first name is another word for the part that guys hold while taking a tinkle!  That pretty much explains why this kid has such problems.  He must have very hateful parents. 

Second date was with a guy who claimed to be a photographer at our local paper.  He showed up on our date with his wedding ring on display.  Super!  Hearing him explain his reasoning, after I called him out on it, (his wife left him 2 years ago and his daughter thinks it's his fault, so he still wears his ring for her) sent douche chills down my spine.  Luckily, I didn't have to make up an excuse to leave because we had planned this date around his son's wrestling match that night, so I knew I would only have to suffer for an hour.  He proceeded to take the ring off and put it in his pocket, even after I told him that he didn't have to - I mean, when you return home after your date, and you've lost your wedding ring, you will certainly be forced to eat shit. 

After saying "so long, have a great life" I continued to get emails from him into the wee hours of the morning that went unanswered on my end. 

The next day, around lunchtime I got this from him, and I quote..."Hey listen. I had a great time and your such a great girl. I now realize that I am not ready to move on at this point. I may never be. I am sorry but I can not date any one at this time. I need to work out many issues in my life and I can not get involved with anyone. Take care and good luck. Your a great catch. Don't settle for just any guy!"

I immediately replied with "Hard to date anyone when you have a wife at home." As soon as I clicked the send button, the email bounced back to me with a MAILER-DAEMON failure saying the email was inactive.  He then deleted his online profile.  That's a lot of hoops to jump through just to try to cheat on your wife.  You might as well just pay for a hooker.  I'm not even too upset that I was lied to and all that bullshit - I'm much more angry about the fact that he thinks that I may "settle for just any guy."  Dude, if that was the case then I'd probably be married with a bunch of kids right now, just like...ummm....YOU. 

Third time's a charm?  I'm totally using "air quotes" on this one, because it's hardly a "date" but for the sake of this "post," we'll just "call it that."  After the married guy, I started chatting with some other dude who was closer to my age and had all the superficial requirements that I look for - tall, dark, successful.  We spoke on the phone a couple of times and after a long day at work, he asked me to meet him out at Starbucks.  I didn't want to.  I hadn't showered that day and I really didn't feel like socializing, but he was persistent about wanting to meet me, so I quickly showered, got my act together and put on a happy face.  He was waiting in his car (a Lexus) when I got there and got out to greet me in the parking lot.

The exchange went a little something like this:
Me: Hi xxx!  Nice to meet you.
Him: You too...it's so great to now have a face to put with a name.
Me: So, do you want to go inside and get a coffee?
Him: I can not drink another cup of coffee today.
Me: (in my head) So, why the fuck did you ask me to come out tonight and waste my time?!
Him: I just wanted to see your face.
Me: OK then.  I'm going to head home.
Him: Maybe we can get together on Tuesday and go out for a nice dinner.
Me: Yeah, we'll see.
Him: It was really nice to meet you.
Me: Yup.

I got back into my car, a mere 60 seconds later and drove home.  No more than 3 minutes passed when I got a text from him asking if I wanted to come over his house to watch a movie.  I declined.  He responded that he thought I was pretty, but he didn't want to invest any more time in chatting without seeing if I actually represented myself correctly. 

I get it.  I really do.  I remember how I felt when I met that guy who misrepresented himself so severely that I almost threw up in my mouth.  But, if I passed your little attractiveness test, then you should have just agreed to go inside the coffee shop for a few moments to get to know me a little better!  Instead, you were looking for some kind of messed up booty call. 

As much as I would like to say that I am done with internet dating, I still have the hope that someone will come into my life and surprise the hell out of me.  Until then, I have two words that keep me going...BLOG FODDER. 

Oh, and I changed my profile again to reflect more about me and my personality since trying it Arlequin's way was a huge fail.  :)

A Gross Misrepresentation

Have you ever suppressed a gag when meeting someone for the first time?

People come in all shapes and sizes, a variety of colors, personalities ranging from the complete bore to the life of the party - but when you send someone a picture that looks NOTHING like you and expect them to not notice, then you should make your reservation for hell right now.  Sure, we all like how we look in "good" photos.  I can capture an angle of myself that no one else can see.  Suddenly, instead of a round face I have chiseled cheekbones!  Am I proud of these pictures?  Hell yes!  Do I send them to people and claim I look exactly like that?  No way.  It's not fair, or right.  Guys should take note of this too...do not send me a picture of yourself 10 years ago and 70 pounds lighter.  If you do, be prepared to suffer the consequences, because I will call you on.

I have before. What's funny is that it's not really even a matter of looks...it's a matter of trust and respect.  Do you really think that any kind of meaningful (or non-meaningful) relationship will ever blossom from a mis-representation of yourself?  I mean, I totally have a wonderful personality (HA!), but I'm pretty sure that if I looked like Quasimodo and represented myself as Esmerelda, even a charming personality wouldn't save me from being berated and rejected upon first meeting.

This story is for Soph, who encouraged me to throw it out there! 

I was talking to this guy who's picture was to.die.for.  He was walking on the beach in an open white button down shirt and khaki's.  Not overly defined abs, but definitely a great body.  He lived kind of far from me (about 2 hours) but we chatted via email and on the phone and he seemed like a nice guy, so we planned to meet at a neutral place and go for a drive on his Harley.  In passing, I asked how old the picture was - thinking it was from a recent vacation...the guy told me about a year.

HE LIED.

That picture was literally 15 years old, and possibly even older than that.  Instead of the abs, there was a significant beer gut.  Instead of the full head of hair, he was bald - but grossly covered it up with a bandanna.  Instead of the strong jaw line, there was a double chin.  It was terrible. 

I called him on it.  He said that he didn't think I would meet him if he sent a recent picture.  I told him that he was probably right, and because of his deception I had absolutely no interest in getting on the back of a motorcycle and was also pissed about wasting my day to drive 4 hours (round trip) to meet such an asshole.  And, I left.

Even though I was angry at HIM, I was also angry at MYSELF. And really, if people are going to go out of their way to be deceptive, how can you even control it?  For me, it reiterates the fact that there are no solid rules to Internet dating, which is the most frustrating aspect of this whole thing. 

I hate to tell you this, but...you're gay

Some people are just way cooler when they can hide their physical being behind a clouded cyber world portal.   Case in point, a date I had way back in July.  (Yup, I'm on a bit of a dry spell so I'm pulling from the archieves.)  A man who I've been chatting via text with for about 5 weeks prior.  Traveling is a large part of his job, and with my busy social schedule, there had not been much opportunity for a face to face meeting.

He did not post a picture and said that he didn't give photos out free-nilly because of his job.  (Is he a fucking SPY?!)  Is your bullshit meter going off yet because mine certainly was!  He didn't want to send a picture along because he said a coworker found out the last time he tried internet dating and passed his profile along, but he was more than willing to describe himself to me, and I quote..."I'm definitely not an ugly guy.  In fact, I've been told that I'm incredibly good looking.  I have sandy hair, blue eyes, a strong jaw, I'm tall and athletic.  People say that I look like a movie star, but they can never remember which one.  I think you'll have no problem being attracted to me."

Oh, really? We'll see.  I don't know about you, but when I am forced to describe myself to someone, I am way more humble in my description.

I'm sure there will be a collective gasp from across the globe when I reveal that the date was a bust.

I've never met someone who thought so highly of himself so much that you could smell the insecurity coming out of his pores. 

My gaydar was also going bonkers about 5 minutes into the date when he mentioned that he doesn't go to a very popular local bar because "it's frequented by a bunch of fags."  Or, so he was told by his bodybuilder roommate.  (Why did he have to tell me that he was a bodybuilder?  Roommate would've been more than sufficient.  And, you're 36 years old with a full time job!  Why do you need or want a roommate?!)  Dude, we play for the same team!  And, I bet I'm way more successful.  Throughout the date, he continued to talk about gay-this and gay-that and I finally looked him square in the eye and said "I think you need to come to terms with your sexuality.  Straight men who are on a date with a chick don't talk about gays.  They just don't.  It was lovely meeting you.  I wish you the very best in your search."  Then, I got the hell out of there.

As far as the celebrity he said he resembles, I was trying to rack my brain for someone with as many poc marks as he had.  It finally dawned on me.  Dennis Stewart, who played "Leo" aka "Craterface" in Grease.  He was the guy who raced John Travolta in the Thunderbird.

UG-LY.

Sorry, no longer believe the story about your coworker ratting on you.  You don't upload pictures because you're fucking ugly. 

Update on the Fucktard

So, after mulling over an email to the Fucktard in response to his assholish behavior, I sent this simple message via his internet dating profile:

"It's very clear to me that you made your decision in whether you would like to see me again.  For me, hindsight is 20/20 and I wish I had made a different decision when sleeping with you.  I wish you the very best in your future ventures.  Take Care."

I always try to be nice...but the 20/20 dig made me smile a little. 

The Fucktard contacted me last night.  I heard my phone ringing from across the apartment so, as per my usual self, I ran to it only to be grossed out with the face on the screen.  I "declined" to answer and sent him to voicemail, then forgot about it and went about my nightly business. 

A couple of hours later, I got a text message from him.  It was all cheery and light.  This really does chap my ass.  How dare he?  I didn't respond to him, but he continued to send me texts throughout the night - including offering to help me move this weekend.*

What I am learning is that guys hate to be dumped, especially when they felt they had the upper hand.  It's totally OK for this guy to ignore me for days, then when I make a decision and say "goodbye" he's suddenly all up in my grill?  I'm fairly certain that if I were to just have continued to let things be as they were (ie: no contact), I still would be waiting to hear from him. 

This reminds me of my friend who claims that men LIKE to be treated like shit.  I think it's that whole hunter mentality.   

*Disclaimer: I'm seriously considering caving in and letting him help.  I have big furniture and having a guy's muscles there would really come in handy.  However, this would mean I would have to put the past behind us (not IN my behind!) and subsequently, allow him to see where my new place is.  Not sure if that all is worth the manpower I would get out of it.

An officer and a...gentleman?

Two weeks ago I started fielding messages from a guy who not only didn't have a picture, but also didn't have much to say on his profile.  When those faced with those two none-specific things, I mentally ignore.  He kept coming at me unrelentlessly until one day he enclosed a picture of himself along with "now that you see me, can you please let me take you out on a date?" 

Fact of the matter was...he was cute.  Very cute in fact.  I did reply with an apology for not sending a reply and seeming like a snob - but as a rule of thumb I don't interact with those I can not "see," and therefore, since he sent me his picture, we could now converse.  LOL.  We did.  It was fun.  He ended up being a really nice guy. 

He asked me out to dinner on a Friday and I suggested drinks instead.  I'm not sure why, because I like to eat!  I think that in the back of my head I thought that he may be too good to be true.  Funny, isn't it?  I didn't even meet him yet and I was already stacking the cards against him.  What I need to realize is that a girl's instincts are never wrong.  Never.  But, more on that later.

Our date was fun.  We sat in a booth and talked for hours.  He's a military guy which makes him very serious and it became my mission to try to get him to crack a smile.  I succeeded!  A couple of times!  I know that I am a good flirt, especially when it comes to situations that are one-on-one, but I was really feeling an instant attraction to this guy.  He kept touching my hand on top of the table and played with the ring on my finger.  And, you know what?  It felt GOOD.  There was no subconscious comparison going on.  My phone was buried in my purse, on silent and I didn't even check it once!  Even when he went to the bathroom and left me at our booth alone!  I seriously didn't want the date to end, but like every bar in this town, they called "last call" as soon as we really started to talk about the deep stuff. 

He walked me to my car.  We kissed.  He invited me over to his jeep and we talked a little bit more then made out a lot!  I *almost* invited him over that night, but was a good girl.  LOL

On the way home, he texted.
As I crawled into bed, he texted.
When I woke up in the morning, he texted.
All weekend long, we were texting.  He told me that he felt a really strong connection with me and that he was excited to what the future would hold.
Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, I would wake up to a text at 4am (the start of his workday).

On Wednesday I asked him if he wanted to grab a bite to eat.  We did.  And followed the meal up with a couple of cocktails.  I threw caution to the wind and invited him over and I let biology take over.  There was (good) sex, snuggling, kissing at the door on my stoop and a date planned for the next Friday - two days away, to go to the drive-in for a three movie marathon the last weekend they were opened. 

And, then I didn't hear from him. 

So, basically...I gave it up too quickly.  He obviously got what he was after.   

Friday afternoon he texted me and told me that he was sick.  I asked him what was wrong and didn't get a response.  That's considered a stand up, in my humble opinion.  I didn't hear from him again until Sunday night, when he revealed that he had strep throat.  It's really hard not to feel sorry for someone who has strep because that is one nasty sickness.  I was concerned for him and tried to convey that - but really in the back of mind I was thinking "Dude.  Strep throat doesn't stop your fingers from texting!"  Am I wrong to admit that I was angry and disappointed that he didn't even contact me?  Am I wrong to admit that I started questioning myself as a woman with feelings because this seemingly happened after we fucked?  You don't fuck a girl, then not call her and think that feelings won't be destroyed, regardless if you were sick or not, unless you're a total asshole, right?!

This guy went from sweetness to fucktard in a couple of days. 

Instincts...I'm listening to you from now on because honestly, my heart just can't take it anymore.

Reflection

A couple of weeks ago I met a lawyer after work for dinner and drinks.  It was a lovely date...a beautiful restaurant, nice bottle of wine, interesting conversation and a sweet kiss at the end.  The guy is semi accomplished as a bankruptcy lawyer, is well spoken and looks a lot like Matt Damon from some angles, but as the weeks passed I realized that...I just wasn't into him. 

He didn't do anything particularly creepy.  He wasn't too aggressive or forward.  I'm simply not attracted to him. 

I find myself in these situations quite often.  Guys look great on paper, and then I meet them and there's absolutely no spark, either mentally or physically or both.  It's frustrating, and it's hard to talk to my friends about it because I get accused of being too picky and not giving people a chance.  I often worry about that because I am quick to move on to the next prospect.  I'm trusting my insticts...but I'm also making a mental comparison against these seemingly good guys. 

I have what I consider a "perfect man" (for me) in my head.  My ultimate boyfriend, let's say.  When I think of this imaginary person, I actually envision a face of someone who is very special to me...a guy who I've been involved with for three years now...a guy who is married and never leaving his wife.  It's true.  I compare potential suitors to a man that will never actually be my suitor because he's what makes me feel like a million bucks when times are good.  Even though he has several issues of his own (besides being a married man who cheats) I still have a hard time looking past that and seeing other guys for who they are, or may become over time.

When I started dating my ex many moons ago, I was not immediately in love with him.  He was fun, and funny and could hold a conversation even though he couldn't retain said conversation worth shit!  As we hung out more I could feel myself falling for him.  I know that is the natural progression of things, and yet now...I can't seem to get through that second date without wanting to run for the hills.

I wonder if I am actually ready for a relationship or if I'm just dating to date because society tells me that every woman should have a man?  I wonder if I continue to have this relationship with someone who in unattainable because I know subconsciencely that I don't have to worry about being his girlfriend and all the stress that comes from that.  It's like I'm attached...but not.  I still have someone asking me how my day was and being attentive to my physical needs, yet not have to ask permission or justify the time I spend with my friends.  Unfortunately, the catch 22 is that I do want someone to spend holidays with, bring home to meet mom and spend my nights with.

Thinking about all of this is quite frustrating and eye opening.  I don't really like that person that I seem to have become.  That girl who is easily satisfied with having a long term affair.  That girl who lies to herself that it's totally OK - because it's not.  I want and deserve more, but I'm not letting myself have it.

Sigh.

The biggest ASSHOLE move I've ever experienced

If you go out with a guy, have a great time, make out with him in his car in the parking lot and accidently leave your necklace in said car...don't be surprised that when you ask him to send it to you (after not hearing from him since that night), that a postcard arrives from the United States Postal Service telling you they have your envelope and need $1.14. 

SERIOUSLY DUDE?! 

You couldn't pick up the dollar and change postage? 

I so need the interwebs to help me with a response to send to him. 

Is a free meal worth the price of a bad date?

Causal dating, in general, makes me feel like a whore.  (And the fact that this subject is coming after my last post of true whore-like behavior says something.) 

Yesterday, I was challenged to "be spontaneous" and meet some guy who was flirting with me all day, out for dinner and drinks at the restaurant of my choice.  He had all the warning signs of being a bad date - no profile picture, an out of the area hometown, the fact that he listed his relationship status as separated and is not looking for a relationship of any kind with an intention to hang out.  Basically, the dude is looking to get laid.  His replies to my basic questions gave me douche chills, in a very bad way, and I was just about to block him from my life forever when...

...my stomach growled.

Yep, you heard that right. 

My decision to go on this date was purely based on wanting to eat on someone else's dime.  Yes, I am using random guys for dinner and beer.

It pulls at my insides a little that women can get away with such bullshit and men (usually) can't.  Truth of the matter is, I feel like a total whore without the sex (unless he's hot, and I'm unusually horny, my place is clean and my legs are shaved.  Hey...it's been known to happen once, or twice - and couple other times, which I haven't written about - with mixed results).  

Does it make it any better that I will always pick a pub that has cheap, but tasty, food and drink?  How about the fact that I will do my best to not only enjoy myself, but make sure that the guy is laughing and feeling comfortable as well?  How about the fact that I do keep an open mind and will accept another date, if the guy exceeds my relatively low expectation that I have of him - because you never know where the love lightening will strike?  Or that I almost always offer to split the bill, unless the guy is a total asshat - which in that case...the $20 you just spent on me was totally earned.  How about that I always offer up a very genuine "thank you" and close contact hug at our parting, if I don't take him home and hump his brains out? 

I also happen to wonder when the act of getting to know someone over food and drink became an invitation, or expectation, for sex?  Should I really feel badly that someone is shelling out $20 bucks to spend time with me?!  He has to eat too!!!  I'm doing him a favor, so he doesn't have to dine alone!  (And, maybe cockblocking him from someone who will fuck a tard on the first date.)  And really...if I am going to allow that - you better believe I would be ordering the filet mignon and not a burger! 

Last night's date wasn't horrible.  He did make me laugh, but there was no physical attraction.  I was upfront and did tell him that he wouldn't be getting in my pants - which did make him chuckle and admit that the thought had entered his mind from the moment that we started chatting via email.  At the end of the date, he told me that he would text me the next time he was in town.  I gently reminded him that I didn't give him my number, so he'd have to continue to use the dating site to contact me.  We hugged, I gave him a quick peck on the cheek, thanked him for dinner and we went our separate ways.

1+2=3

I was a willing participant in something I thought I would never do.  Like, never in a gazillion years NEVER.  I was the lady in an all-man sandwich.

Several months ago the opportunity presented itself in a very strange and freaky way, which I didn't see coming, or did I appreciate at the time.  It was so ridiculous that I can laugh about it now, thank goodness.  I met up with this guy at his place for some Chinese and a movie.  Long story short - at some point in the night, this dude's cousin came over.  We moved into the bedroom and while he was giving it to me from behind I looked up and the cousin was standing in the doorway, dick-in-hand and pants on the floor.  I screamed, covered myself up and told the cousin to get out.  Naturally, I did what any horny girl would do - made sure the door was locked and continued playing.  (Thinking back on it now, I should've checked the closet too.  I bet you money that someone was hiding in there...crazy exhibitionist that this guy was.)   

So the other night, I get a booty text from the Cub.  "Whoo-hoo!  I'm totally going to have sex with the Cub again!"  Now, I have not heard from that boy in months, even though I think of him and his ginormous penis nightly.  He asked me to meet him at his friend's place, where we would then go and get some drinks and then I would take him home and use him all night long.  He obviously didn't get the memo that I hatched in my head. 

And ultimately, I got his memo about 10 minutes after entering his buddy's place - who just happened to be Mr. Wingman himself from our first date. 

I think I got about 30 texts on the ride over to his buddy's place.  "How long till you get here?"  "I can't wait to see you again."  "Are you here yet?"  When I arrived, my Cub was waiting for me at the door as excited as a kid at Christmas.  I was going to hug him hello, but he beat me to the punch by planting the nicest kiss on my mouth, which totally took my breath away, then proceeded to pick me up, throw me over his shoulder and carried me up the stairs, with my ass hanging out of my dress!  I collected myself and sat down in a chair between the couch that the Cub ended up on and another couch that the Wingman was sprawled out on. 

It's funny how things evolve.  We sat there talking for a couple of minutes when the Cub motioned for me to sit next on his lap.  When I got up, so did the Wingman and it went in a crazy direction from there.  I suddenly had two hot guy's hands all over my body, my dress was up and over in my head in about 3 seconds flat.  Standing there in my underthings in front of two hard bodies was very intimidating, and if had not been dark in that apartment I probably would've burst out crying. 

There were rules: condoms must be used, no anal play AT ALL, and nothing too rough.

As sexy as I imagined a 3-some would be, in reality, it wasn't.  It was awkward, weird and uncomfortable.  Handling two penises is hard.  (Pardon the pun.)  I tried not to show favoritism, but when you have an incredible freak of nature in one hand, and a limp sausage in the other - this homegirl will throw the limp sausage aside!  I don't blame the Wingman for not being able to get it up at first, I mean...there's another dude in your bed, you can see what he's packing and it doesn't compare to yours, plus you're kind of forced to touch his leg or arm from time to time as bodies adjusted.  I could tell that he was a total homophobe, but even so, I wasn't going to take him by the hand and show him the ropes! 

Things that happened that I was not too thrilled about:
1. Sweat dripping on me from two guys.  I seriously wanted to vomit at one point.
2. I did get it in the ass..."accidentally," by the Cub. 
3. I yelled and screamed and ran to the bathroom.
4. I left my favorite bra behind.

One thing that I think was a totally awesome playa move on my part, I managed to sneak out while they were both asleep.  As the filling between the bread, I had to carefully slide myself down the bed without waking the two guys, grab my stuff that was scattered all over the freakin place and get out - all in the dark in a place I was unfamiliar with.  I'm happy to say that it was a success...but the real success came in knowing that I left two naked guys in a bed together! 

The following text pretty much sums up the whole experience, with what my girlfriends have to say about 3-somes:

Me: I had a 3-some.
Friend: It's about time. 
Me: LOL.  It was super awkward.
Friend: With who?
Me: The Cub and his friend.
Friend: 2 dicks?!  It's much sexier when it's 2 women! 

Hands are important to me

I am astonished at the variety of different types of hands there are on this planet.  Weird, right?  Well, looking back into my dating vault, I've rejected a couple of dates based on the size and shape of their hands and digits.

Shallow, much?

Well...yes.  But, how are you supposed to envision yourself being romantic with someone if the thought of their minuscule hands being on your body makes you want to vomit?  You can't.  It's impossible.  This may rank up there as being as ridiculous as the guy who detests public hair, it's one of my personal deal breakers.  You can't have chick hands, and you must have all of your fingers.  Period. 

So, it's interesting and funny in a non-haha way (at the time) that I have gone on dates with guys who have had chick hands, and didn't have all their fingers. 

A man's hands should be strong.  They should hold a firm hand shake.  They should be bigger than mine.  A callus or two certainly doesn't hurt in my book, but you know, please keep them from scraping the floor when you stand upright.  They should not be moisturized or manicured or any of that shit!

I went out with a dude that was incredibly good looking, in a very rugged way.  We met for dinner at a local pub, and it didn't matter that he was employed, smart and put together - his hands were the size of the guy in the BK Jr. Whopper commercial!  Not only were they tiny, but his fingernails were practically non-existent.  I almost thought that they were a transplant, but he was wearing short sleeves and had no scars to confirm otherwise.  (You bet your ass I checked.)  He had to pick up his half-sandwich panini with two hands.  Suddenly, his charm and wit were lost on me. 

Do these make you horny?

I met up with a guy for happy hour and 10 cent chicken wings.  Yes, it was a cheap date - but I'm not a gold digger that's all about the benjamins!  I was actually looking forward to being casual and messy and ultimately being silly in front of a guy when inevitable he'd tell me that I somehow had hot sauce smeared across my forehead.  (How does that happen?!  I use napkins!) 

We ordered a couple of beers and talked for a bit before our wings arrived, hot and fresh from the fryer.  I ate two before I saw this guy licking wing sauce off his HALF A THUMB!  Gross man.  Don't you think if you had half a thumb, you might prepare your date - either with a kick ass story about how it happened, or some kind of pre-meeting explanation?  I know I certainly wouldn't sit there licking it over and over, like it was some kind of baby penis you were giving head to.  Of course, the thumb licker was also a douchebag, so throwing $10 bucks on the table to cover my $4 bill was incredibly generous of me...when I decided to get the fucking hell out of there with an excuse of having to feed my dog. 

I hate that I now have to add "Take a look at your hands...do they belong on your arms?" as one of the pre-screening questions I have to ask potential suitors, along with "Are you married?" and "Do you have a criminal record?"

So, yeah...I did jinx myself (*hmmm...maybe not)

(The first of this post was written on 6/20 and I shelved it because I've been so busy.  Since last night, there have been some new developments, so I decided to pick up where I left off and make this some kind of running commentary, which I'm sure will end as all the others have - badly.)  

The guy who I thought was so great?  Kind of a douchebag.  Of course, not the initial impression he gave me or the last he tried to leave me with, but a complete self-centered douche just the same.

The message I received via text:  "I like certain things and I want to meet someone who shares the same so I don't have to ask or change anything they don't want to.  I'm just looking for my perfect match."

My GOODNESS Miz Adventures!  Did you punch a baby in his presence?  Kick a puppy?  What in the world is he talking about?

Pubes.

A red flag was raised after our initial meeting when the topic of public hair came up, which I noted on here.  Let's not discuss how slightly inappropriate such conversation is on the first date because I think I was the one who inquired about his body hair - though, in my defense it was centered around the chest and not the nether-regions.

It is true that I love guys to be natural.  Shaved balls aren't my thing.  In my humble opinion, the only place on a guy where there should be stubble, is on their face.  However, after saying that, I have never turned my nose up in the heat of the moment when seeing a completely bare-down-there guy.  I get that even if it's not my thing, it might be there's.  Some guys (falsely) believe that they look bigger if they're shaved.  I've heard others say that sex feels better and is more sanitary - but really, sex isn't supposed to be sanitary...it's supposed to be messy and uninhibited and fun.  I don't really need the excuses or justifications from the male species.  If you prefer it, you prefer it...case closed.  However, if you're going to use my own personal hair style as a way to end something, it's probably best that happen up front, because I don't want to waste my time on you...better yet, I'll make it easy for you.  You're a superficial douche. 


Disclaimer for my actual real-life friends...you may want to skip down a paragraph or you will read all about my private parts.  Starting NOW...I sport a small triangle on top, and no hair anywhere else.  My triangle is probably an inch wide and is trimmed pretty close so that it's actually just a shadow.  I've been bare before and for some reason each time I became so self conscience that I couldn't relax and enjoy myself.  My triangle makes me feel like a fucking sexy woman and for some reason gives me an extreme amount of confidence.

However, that being said - if I found the right guy, and he asked me to take it all off, I would.  It's not a fight worth fighting.  I'm a pleaser and I would do just about anything to make my man happy, as I'm sure he would do to return the favor to me.  But, I'm not going to jump the gun and change myself for someone who just wants a bare girl.

Just for shits and giggles, I emailed Claudy, a man who's dating blog I enjoy because I wanted a male perspective, other than the Pube-Nazi's.  His response?  "To me one of the key philosophies in life is the freedom of the individual and their right to self-government.  And I can't really think of anything more private and sacrosanct than your body, especially the private parts. That's why they're called PRIVATE PARTS! :D  Showing them and sharing them with someone should be seen as a huge privilege and honour by the other person. So you can probably guess how I see demands made by other people involving your private parts. I think if a person makes implicit demands about them, it just shows how shallow they are."

Well said, case closed in my book.  And, for the record - the Pube-Nazi never even saw my lower private parts, although I did see his.  *wink, wink* 

"I hope you find her."  My simple, slightly passive-aggressive response to which there was no reply back from him. 

I did say case closed, right?  Well, like about 95% of the men I have met on-line, he came back.  Men (and women - I'm guilty of this myself) are always looking for someone better, especially when there's such a large sea of people to fish for.  Don't get me wrong, it's quite an ego booster to know that yeah...you had me at hello for the most part, and fucked it up.  I'm a special kind of woman because I'm normal and not a psycho.  Sometimes, I ignore the little messages telling me how great, beautiful, normal, funny, etc. they think I am - because, let's face it, most don't even know me well enough to say anything deeper.  Sometimes, I play into it. Like last night, around midnight. 

Him: "Hey beautiful, I like the new picture.  You are so smart and pretty.  I'm sure you're doing quite OK in the men department.  I really wanted you that last night we were together."

Me: "Oh really?  Your last text message didn't indicate that."

Him: "Can we try again?"

I'm super physically attracted to this guy.  Like, thinking about him makes my heart beat faster and causes me to have to change my panties, even though I now know he's a total douchebag.  I want to sleep with him.  There, I said it.  And, the thing is...I kind of only want to sleep with him because I know I don't want any kind of relationship with him.  I just want to give him a great night of mind-blowing sex, then leave while he's sleeping and have that be his last memory of me.

Yes, I've gone all black widow.

Stay tuned.     

Where have you been?

I know that I will absolutely jinx myself by typing it out loud, but I met a boy I like.

Superficially speaking, he has all of the requirements I'm looking for in a mate.  He's tall (6'3''), has all his hair, a gorgeous smile, arms for days, a hairy chest (yay!) and made me laugh with his quick wit and humor.  Plus, he works with his hands, drives a pick up truck, is father to a couple of dogs, close to my age, never married and has zero children.  He's also taken by me and told me so, both in person and via text - although I wonder if he really is, or if he just wants to get into my pants.

He is the kind of guy that I feel like a million bucks standing next to, because he is so darn good looking.  He's also the kind of guy that I would totally want to flaunt to my friends.  (That sounds horrible - but I just think back to this guy and how uncomfortable I was even thinking about that.)  I personally feel that we are a decent match.

Our make-out session, which happened back at his place, was tender and exciting.  He's a great kisser, and although I did allow his hands to wander a little bit, we both kept our underthings on and pulled up. (I had to hold myself back!)  I could feel what he was packing and I know I will be quite happy with it.

There are some red flags though - and please...if anyone thinks I am being retarded, just say so!

• His name reminds me of someone I HATE with a passion. 
• He is in the same kind of work as my ex - which led to a lot of frustration over long, strange hours and unfinished projects.
• He likes women who sport a very "clean" hairstyle in a very private place.

I'm seeing him again this weekend and am hoping to pick up where we left off - both in conversation and exploring our naughtier side.

Can we just date via text message?

It always amazes me how incredibly wrong I can be about someone.  Take Friday's date for instance.  This guy was everything I wanted on paper - tall, intelligent, funny, athletic, gentlemanly and good looking...a country boy from South Carolina, recently transplanted in my town for work.  Our texting relationship was filled with funny antidotes that would made me giggle and yearn for more. 

And, then I met him.

I received a follow up email on Sunday afternoon. He wanted to let me know that he had a lot of fun (HUH?) and asked me if I'd like to go on another date this Friday (WHAT?!). 

My firm, no-nonsense reply - something I'm getting quite good at - and some insight on what happened to turn me off to this person so completely:

I'm actually kind of surprised to hear from you.

I'm going to be honest, because I feel like you deserve that. I was really looking forward to meeting you. You seemed like a really nice, intelligent and fun guy. I was disappointed in the 'date.' I guess I expected that for a couple of hours I would have your attention so we could get to know each other. You didn't offer much up, was drunk before I even go there, and I felt like I was talking to myself because you were constantly playing with your phone and destroying the table.

I thought it was weird that 3 of your buddies came out...but even weirder yet when I came back from  dropping my food off at my car and using the bathroom that everyone had a drink and you failed to order one for me. It was nice that everyone who showed up was nice and included me in the conversation, because you payed absolutely no attention to me otherwise. The deal breaker was when you very loudly said 'whoa...nice boobs' when another girl walked out if the bathroom in front of us, so you obviously didn't take the date too seriously.

I thank you for dinner, but I don't think we would make a good match.

 

(Insert a heavy dose of sarcasm.) Doesn't that date sound absolutely amazing?!  Can I just explain that I was so excited about this date that I got home from work, showered and changed outfits about 20 times?  I wanted to make a great first impression.  Silly Miz Adventures!    

 

He responded by apologizing for being a prick.  (His word, not mine, although it does fit nicely.)  

 

No, I realize I was a prick. I really am sorry about that. To be honest, we're probably just at two different places. I have a lot of growing up to do and it's been a slow process.  Again, I'm sorry and I do want you to know that I think you're a really smart, funny and attractive young lady.  Someone will be very lucky to snag you as their own.

 

Do I feel bad after a lovely and well deserved apology?  No.  He was a total prick from the get-go.  A complete 180 from the person I was getting to know via text/email, whom I really, really liked.  It's a shame really because you wonder what the true personality is.  

Miz A isn't following her rules too well...

You know Rule #3, Quality over Quantity?  Yeah well, since I'm having a hard time finding Quality, I might as well pursue Quantity.  After all, maybe internet dating plays by the 10% rule - - out of every 10 dates, only 1 will be good.  That seems so sad.

I have a full weekend booked, starting today:

Thursday - outdoor free concert, followed by drinks at a local pub with a guy I met last week at the dog park.  He's too young and short for me, and he already told me that he doesn't like sex - so this is a courtesy date, because sex is too important for me to give up and I'm too old to be a teacher.  Ha! 

Friday - dinner and drinks at a local brewery with a guy that I'm very interested in meeting.  I'm definitely getting the "fun" vibe from him, especially when he recounted his tales of his Memorial Day Weekend.  If I know myself like I think I do, I will probably arrive with great expectations and be disappointed.  The only thing that I will be keen on, is that I've met several people at this particular hot spot and the last time I was on a blind date there, a guy I had previously met was also sitting at the bar, staring.  Awkward!!!!

Saturday - movies with the Pilot, a man which I have yet to blog about.  That's forthcoming.

Sunday - destination and activity yet to be determined with a bodybuilder who also goes to my gym and often does cardio on the treadmills right by the yoga room so I can see his face in the mirror.  I'm hoping this second date will be less of an interview, like the first one was.  He's totally my type though - tall, dark and handsome with a killer body and NO KIDS or ex wives.  I may also try to fit an afternoon date in on Sunday as well, because you know...go big or go home.

"Miz A, you are a playa!" ~ my sister

Yes.  Yes, I am...but not by the Urban Dictionary, whose definition says "A male who uses women for sex or other favors usually by charming the girl till they fall in love with them. A lot of guys do this in order to be a "playa" cuz in our modern society it is (by idiotic dickheads) "cool" and "hip" to be labeled as a "playa". A female version of this would be slut." Wait?  What?!

It's funny that I am playing the field as much as any guy out there, and I am labeled a slut, because I don't have a penis (that you know of!  LOL).  It's true that I have had a couple of one-night stands...but it's also true that I have held my vagina in high regard and have tried to find someone worthy of it's greatness.  It sickens me that sexual labels are handed out like candy and often times, it's the women who a given a demeaning name.  Labelers need to grow up and realize that women are sexual beings who should not be thumbed down! 

However, that being said, I totally rejected someone based on their sexual background...or rather, the sexual background that he admitted to me...after I joked that I would go out with him for "research".    Which included a stint as a Chippendale dancer.  Naturally, because I've seen quite a bit of porn, my first question after that reveal was "So, have you ever had sex at a party in front of everyone?"  The answer was a YES - in capitals.  With an explanation about how exciting it was, followed by a picture of his cock (which wasn't that impressive) and an explicit proposition.  I'm pretty sure that he probably has a video of himself somewhere on the internet, and who knows, I may have seen it.  Too forward, too creepy, too dangerous for me.

Being stood up, revisited

Since things aren't working out with the Cub, and the Forehead Kisser got offered a job in Atlanta and will be packing up and leaving town in as little as two weeks, I decided that Memorial Day weekend would be FILLED with many first dates...and so it was.  But I digress, because there is one incident that I couldn't wait to blog about.

I got a message that literally made my blood start to boil.  Remember this guy?  The asshole that stood me up to my face?  He came out of the woodwork this weekend. 

Him: What's new with you?

(Pause, pause, pause. Here is the internal struggle with answering this email.  Men are idiots.  Did this guy accidentally contact me because he didn't recognize my new picture, or because he's offering an olive branch, or because him standing me up didn't even make a blip on his radar?  Hmmmm...)

Me: Are you kidding me?

You stood me up...to my face when we had plans to meet  for the Syracuse vs. UConn game. Remember? You were sitting at the bar, wearing an Orange sweater, I walked in with a black coat on, you have me a look of disgust, shook your head and turned your back.

I don't know what's worse, the fact that you're less of a man, and cheap to boot, and couldn't buy me a $5 beer (which I bought for myself because I wasn't going to walk into a bar and walk back out), or that you texted me saying you were on your way AFTER you rejected me making me believe that I was some kind of
blind, dumb idiot. And please don't try to say it wasn't you...not only were you easy to pick out of a crowd, but I heard someone call you by your name.

That's some kind of game you have there. Honestly, if you didn't find me physically attractive, you should've just sucked it up, bought me a beer and said that you didn't feel we were a match. It happens, and its a lot easier to swallow than what you pulled, which really hurt my feelings.

Him: I honestly didn't go to the bar that night....I would tell you if I did....I had several bad dates off here and figured when we were going to meet it was going to be another one....but that really wasn't me...I'm sorry for standing you up... 

Me: I wish I was born yesterday, so I believed you.  Regardless, you wasted my time and made me feel worthless. Just for the record, I'm not a bad date. I'm fun, sometimes silly and an excellent conversationalist. I
could have a good time with a rock. But that's ok...after I finished the beer I bought for myself, I went home, put on the sexist dress in my closet - the one that shows off my cleavage - and headed out to the fundraiser that I was going to skip to go out with you. It ended up being a good night. 

Him: lol....your attitude is priceless....look you seemed like a cool chick...I'm sorry I stood you up...we are both still on here so maybe we should try again? how about I make it up to you and take you for a ride on my Harley today?

Me: Thank you, but no thanks.  You have yourself a good holiday weekend.

Him: I won't stand you up.....are you afraid to ride on the Harley? Please?  I'd really like to meet you.

Him: Just give me a second chance.  

(Repeat 4 more times with the same kind of plea.)


I think that someone's bad karma is catching up with them and that makes me giddy with happiness.  (Which is probably bad karma for me.)  I would love to know WHY he contacted me again and why he thought I would jump at the chance to put my life in the hands of a stranger.