On a scale of 1 to 10

24 Feb

…10 being “as wrong as wrong can be”, how wrong is it to set my Tinder profile to look for men 10 years younger than I am?

Ok. Same scale, how wrong is it to meet up with them?


Protected: Small town dating

23 Feb

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Pleasantly surprised

23 Feb

I owe you an update on my date the other night with #6.

We had made arrangements to meet at a cool restaurant downtown that I’d been dying to try.  He arrived before I did and when I walked in I was happy to see that he was a bit cuter than his pics.  He was also a bit shorter than I thought and with my amazing boots I was probably an inch taller than he was.  Whatever, no bigs, figured I’d never have to wear heels again – I love flats.  #6 was in a bit of a panic when I got there because he’d realized he’d left his wallet in the back of the uber.  In some respects it worked out well because the problem solving mode we had to go into helped us get past any nervousness.

Wallet in hand, we were able to sit down and enjoy our drinks.  The drink menu was the bomb and sitting at the bar we were able to watch all the madness in the restaurant. I’ve come to the conclusion that sitting at the bar is way better than sitting at a table because you’ve got a better chance of reading body language, and if they have hot arms and you want to touch them, it makes it easier.

For those of you who voted in the poll as to whether/not I should give him a birthday card (his birthday was the night before), “yes” was the right answer.  He loved the card and was touched that I’d even thought to do that.  I’m a kind person, god damn it (someone tell #4).  Let me thank NONE of you for telling me what I should write in his birthday card.  Really helpful.  No really, thank you to no one.  In the card I’d written that I’d handle first round of drinks and he told me absolutely not.  When he got up to go to the bathroom I closed out the tab on the first round because I knew he’d fight me.

I had really low expectations going into the date.  In our messaging he was making me do a whole lot of work and the conversation wasn’t flowing.  In person, I was getting all sorts of right signals and the conversation was smooth.  He shared some fun Tinder/OKC stories, asked questions about me, was a good flirt, and fun company.  As I did the previous night on my date with #5, I got up at one point to go to the bathroom just so he could see how amazing I looked in my outfit.  Yes, I wore the damn one as the previous date.  No, I don’t have a problem with doing that.  The outfit was banging.  I may start wearing it everyday.

Three hours (and three drinks) went by in the blink of an eye.  “I don’t know what I was expecting tonight, but I have to say I’m pleasantly surprised,” he told me.  He said he thought I was smart and very attractive and that he’d love to see me again.  Likewise.  So promising!  It was a great first date.  Not quite as spicy as the first one with #4, missing some of the chemistry, but definitely worth another date.

I messaged him when I got home and gave him my number.  Text message sent from him 5 minutes later.  Good morning texts on Wednesday and Thursday – some witty banter the rest of the days.  And yesterday he asked me out again.  I said yes, of course I said yes, because he’s cute and funny and we have some chemistry and why the hell not?


That awkward moment when…

23 Feb

You’re at dinner with friends, discussing your dating life, and you realize you and one of your friends are dating the same guy.

Cracked diamond

22 Feb

Self esteem and confidence are weird concepts.  How’s it possible to come across as confident to others while inside you’re busy worrying about whether/not people like you?  To have days when you’re owning the shit out of your job, and then lay awake at night wondering if someone will find out that you don’t know what you’re actually doing?

My job requires a whole lot of relationship management.  I have an extraordinary gift with people, if I do say so myself.  My personality is a fucking 10.  I am charming, hilarious, smart, caring kind, people want to talk to me, which at work makes things much easier.  They seek me out for guidance, they offer suggestions, they’re willing to go the extra mile, even grant a favor from time to time.  On the rare occasion when I have to work with someone who doesn’t like me, it crushes my soul.  9 times out of 10, these rare birds aren’t worth giving a second thought about.  But it’s me, and they don’t like me, so it becomes all consuming.  That’s why I lose sleep over thinking things like, “why doesn’t so-and-so like me?  What do I have to do to get them to like me?” I legitimately spend endless hours trying to think through every little thing that I have to do to make them see what an amazing person I am.


Because if someone doesn’t like me then there’s something wrong with me.  There’s something wrong with me which is why they don’t like me.  So I just have to fix what they don’t like so they can like me.  Or I gotta figure out what they really like and portray that so that they’ll see what an amazing person I am – which is stupid since if I’m pretending to be someone who I’m not, then that’s not really me.  I seek validation of who I am by how other people see me.  Logically, I know that’s stupid.  As I write these words I’m thinking, “so ridiculous,” and yet I can’t help feeling that way.

Complete waste of energy.

You can imagine how incredibly fun and amazing carrying all of this into the dating world can be.  My confidence when it comes to men is even lower than at work.  At least there’s a list of accomplishments I can point to at work.  Dating?  Not so much.  What do I have?  Failed relationships and dudes who don’t like me back.  Sexual panther?  Yes, of course I am, but one who can’t get laid.  Whatever charm I have with people at work doesn’t seem to translate into the dating world.  My 10 personality seems to dim down to about a 6.  Unless I don’t like the guy in which case it ramps back up to a 10.

Years ago I used to see a therapist and he asked me to describe myself and I told him I was a cracked diamond.  I may be beautiful in a certain light, but if you look closely enough, you see the giant crack and it spoils everything.  I would try to conceal who I was so the person I was with wouldn’t see the crack inside.  Had to do it that way because the guy wouldn’t want me if he saw me for me.  Why would he when there are so many more beautiful options available?  Plus, if he liked me and knew the crack existed, then clearly there was something wrong with him, because why would he want a girl who was cracked?  I’m better at showing the angles of my diamond, but that fear of being rejected for who I am still sits with me.

Partially the reason I took a long break from dating was because of the emotional trashing I give myself when it doesn’t work out.  All those thoughts that run through my mind at night:

  • I’m not good/pretty enough.
  • I’m too fat.
  • Why not me?
  • Why don’t I have more matches?
  • Why can’t I find one that I want?
  • Why doesn’t he like me back?

At the root of it, it’s always me (in my mind) who is the problem.  It’s exhausting and draining.

Last night as I was going to bed I was thinking about #4.  Trying to figure out why on earth I spend so much time thinking about someone who has been brutally honest with me and told me there’s no future here.  Thinking if I could just show him who I am, then maybe he’d change his mind.  My personality is a god damned 10!  No, I don’t want a long term relationship with him, he’s far too broken for me.  Bone him, sure.  You bet.  Drop of a heartbeat.

Thinking to myself, “why am I wasting my time thinking about someone who clearly doesn’t see my value?”  And there it was, the epiphany: I’m trying to make him like me because if he doesn’t, then there’s something wrong with me.  So I have to show him every single fucking angle of my amazing personality until he catches the right look and realizes how amazing I am.  What the fuck?

I’m caught in the swirl and I can’t get out.  Frankly, I don’t know if I want to get out, because I like the attention he gives me when he gives it to me.

And because I’m going to make him like me.

I just made myself really vulnerable here.  Be gentle with me.


Wednesday night

21 Feb

It’s 78 degrees on a hump day. Home from the gym and sitting on the porch. When I’m not taking a sip from my massive glass of wine (defeating the whole purpose of going to the gym), I’m busy swiping – typically left – on Tinder and responding to me text messages.

Must restrict my wine intake or may end up sending the right text message to the wrong guy.

I like to call this screenshot “Wednesday in February”. This has been going on since this morning. It’s been a rad fucking day.

Maybe don’t eat that

21 Feb

For Christmas this year, Oingo Boingo received a subscription box of Japanese treats.  He’s moderately obsessed/addicted to all things Japanese.  Sure, he says he could stop anytime he wanted, but his wife, Jersey Belle, and I know that he’d sooner be on the street giving blowies to strangers to make money for another plane ticket across the world.  We know the truth.

This months’ box included some crispy squid snacks!!  Oingo Boingo is pretty adventurous when it comes to food.  While many of us would have looked at the container and thought, “there is no way, no day that’s going in my mouth,” (that’s what she said) he was game.  His assessment?

If you crossed a whore’s vagina and a trash can in the middle of the summer at a seafood restaurant, you still wouldn’t come close to the awfulness.

There you have it folks.  Should someone offer you some, perhaps you should pass.