Tag Archives: booty call

Unstoppable

5 Mar

I’m exhausted from Tindering and dating.  Flirting with the world, coming up with crafty messages, figuring out what bra to wear and whether/not I should wear flats, and trying to pretend like I don’t care that #4 is being weird is enough to tire anyone out!

Two dates on Saturday.  Two.  Almost a third, but he waited too late to text me (more about him later).

Saturday Date 1: Civil Servant (#7)

Saturday afternoon I met up for coffee with Civil Servant.  First, let me apologize for initially reporting he was 32.  My bad, he’s 34.

I’ve not really had a date like this one before.  Usually I go on dates because I think there’s potential for something with someone.  In some cases we establish afterward that perhaps it’s not going to be long term, ala #4.  At least by that point we already know there’s some chemistry. Prior to meeting Civil Servant we agreed it would be casual, so this was more of a formality to determine whether or not we had a spark.  What added to the awkwardness, is there was zero booze involved.  Coffee is great and all, but it doesn’t quite give you that faux confidence/courage that alcohol can give you.  We shared Tinder stories, talked about awful hook ups, and about random other stuff.  Here’s what I found out about him: he’s from the area, does policy work for the government, oldest of 6 kids, was on the verge of engagement when his relationship fell to shit, has a hot body, and a hell of a smile.

Was their heat?  Yes there was.  Someone I’d want to date long term?  He’d bore me, wouldn’t challenge me (in a good way) enough.  He double checked my age and told me I looked great and said, “you’re very attractive.”  I’d like to send a shout out to genetics, a 30 pound weight loss, my J. Crew jeans that accentuate my backside, and a button down top that accentuated the girls (but not too much).  My Tinder profile is clever and I mention I’m terrible when it comes to house repairs and I was hoping to find a handyman on Tinder.  He said he could help and he’d bring his toolbox over and he’d take care of the little repairs around the house.  He was dead serious.  Adorable.  Hawt.

He had his phone and I noticed he was getting a lot of text messages.  At 2:15 I announced he had somewhere to be and we should wrap it up.  He walked me to my car and said, “I’d really like to see you again.  I think we’d have a lot of fun.” We both had plans for the night and agreed it would be fun to meet up sometime.  That’s code for “get naked at my house.”  He said he’d remember his toolbox.  We should have made out – just that final chemistry test – but we didn’t.

The following text exchange proceeded.

  • Me: That was fun.  You know how to find me.  Don’t worry about the toolbox, I’m sure we can find something better to do. 😉  Enjoy going out with your friends tonight.
  • Him: Agreed 🙂 On both fronts 😘.  Have fun with yours.

My text game was strong.  He text messaged me yesterday.

Verdict: Civil Servant is a go.  I’ve penciled him in for Thursday night. 🍆

Saturday Date 2: Fly Boy (#8)

A few days ago I matched with this guy on Tinder who was HILARIOUS.  He had me doubled over, crying from his silly messages.  Of course I had to whip my phone out and share the messages with my friend who agreed he was funny.  He’s in Baltimore for a few months before being sent overseas for some assignment.  After an afternoon of text messaging, he said, “I’ve melted my brain playing too many video games.  Let’s go be awesome.”  Clever.  I bit.

The plan was we’d meet up for a few drinks and then go find somewhere fun to go.  I picked a low key place that has great food and drinks that are the bomb.  I got there first, like usual.  When he walked in, or more like sauntered in, I thought, “oh no. I think he likes boys.”  Okay, reset.  We’re going to be friends.  Fine.  He’s funny, and I love funny friends.  We spent about 5 hours together, even went bowling afterward, and it was a fun night.  Here are a few things I found out about him: he was raised Mormon, married for 8 years, and had 15 tattoos.  He was not conservative in the least.

One of the things I love to do when I’m on a Tinder date is ask about the stories.  I love hearing about the great dates and the terrible ones.  The crazy girls.  All of it.  So I asked Fly Boy about his stories.  He had nothing to share.  He said he could always tell what the girl wanted in the early stages, and if it was too risque, he’d shoot it down and unmatch them.  Bummer.  No stories.

We ended the date with a hug in the car.  I would have died from shock if he had tried anything.  Also, ew, because we had no chemistry.

Verdict: Fly Boy is a no go.  I’d love to set him up with one of my gay friends.

Guess who

1 Mar

…is being weird? I’ll give you a hint: it isn’t me.

Text messaging most of the day dwindled to a few hours. Messages first thing in the morning are out. I sent the last text last night, I’m not sending another. I believe this is the wall he spoke of at dinner Tuesday night.

Typically I will analyze every word I uttered or action I took that would have scared him away. This one is all on him. It’s his head, not me, getting in his way.

He either figures his shit out and we carry on as friends with benefits, or I’m out. I’m not going to chase him because he’s not worth chasing and there are plenty of other options available.

Protected: Thanks, that was fun

28 Feb

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Age is just a number

27 Feb

I am 44.  #4 is 38.  That’s a 6 year age difference.  Really, he’s probably too old for me anyway.  I’ve always had a preference for younger men.  At my age thinking about dating someone who is in his 50’s makes me feel yucky.  Feels too old for me.

Over the weekend a friend of mine told me I should date much younger because I had a young spirit, and so I had to find a man who had one too.  He thought that 27 would be good for me.  First of all, I love him.  He’s great.  High five.  He’s like a great older brother who I never had.  Second, if the dude is 27 I’m technically old enough to be his mom, that feels a little yucky.

I have not embraced my inner Cougar.  I should.  Thanks to my friend who reminded me that the Cougar rule is 1/2 your age + 7.  That means my limit is 29.

Date #7 (Civil Servant) is lined up for Saturday.  He’s 32.  #4 is a fling.  Casual.  We are free to see whomever we want.  If a 32 year old has a hot body and wants to mess around, who am I to say no?

Online dating is fun.  You should do it.

Countdown to bad decisions

27 Feb

Now is the time when my sister should be looking away.  Do not read any further.  Stop reading.  Immediately.  You should maybe go and do some other things.  I think the kids are calling you and the dog wants to go out.  Is that your phone ringing?  You should probably get that.

We’re less than 10 hours out from date 2 with #4.  I’m stupid excited about the whole thing.  Over the moon, can’t concentrate at work, making a list of everything that needs to be done, counting down the hours excited.  Has it only been 2 weeks since that first date with that hawt kiss on the front porch?  Two weeks of texting (or sexting, whatever) and the is-he-going-to-ask-me-out-or-not game with the mean girl who lives inside of my head.  Yet here we are, with hours to spare before his hands are on my body.

Dear sister, if you’re still here, then run away immediately!!

He text messaged me last night until he went to bed, and first thing this morning when he woke up.  Yes, I’m sure he was probably messaging his other booty calls, and frankly, I don’t care.  Based on what he wrote I know he’s excited to see me.  Let me stress the word excited. My hair looks great.  My legs are shaved.  There are clean sheets on the bed.  The house is clean.  I have my outfit picked out.  Mr. Bojangles threw up on the floor this morning.  So far everything is going according to plan.

My rational mind is chanting: I am sex panther.  No touching below the waist.  We will not get fully naked.  I will not sleep with him tonight.  I am sex panther.  No touching below the waist.  We will not get fully naked.  I will not sleep with him tonight.

Meanwhile my inner slut is chanting: I am a sex panther.  Definitely touching below the waist.  We’re going to get fully naked.  I’m going to sleep with him tonight.

My slutty self is going to make this difficult.  Man, would I like to crawl up all over that body of his.  Have I mentioned lately how hot it is?  Because it is hot.  And he is tall.  And his shoulders are broad.  And his arms are strong.  And he has quite a way with words.  And I’m going to straddle him later.  If he did half the things he said he’d like to do to me, then I will die. I will be dead.  No doubt he’d be great in the sack.  No doubt.  I will not sleep with him.  Even though I totes want to.  Not tonight.  I will persevere!  I will resist his charms.  He’s the type that if you give it up too soon then he loses interest.  He wants the conquest.  I will not give him.  I will send him home.  He can come back some other time.

I am a sex panther. No touching below the waist.  We will not get fully naked.  I will not sleep with him tonight.

 

Protected: In my head

26 Feb

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Talking bodies

26 Feb

Dear friends and family who I am close with.  Look away.  This post is not for you.  This is a post about sexy things that you don’t need to read about.  Go away.  You do not want to read any further than this.  Trust me.  Too personal.  You’ll never look at me the same way.

You’ve been warned.

Go now.

I’m particularly talking to you, my sister.  Stop fucking reading.  You do NOT want to read.  I’m going to talk about naked things.  Casually walk away.

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