Tag Archives: single

Fire drill

25 Mar

I think I’m like many women in that I’d love to have a steamy, torrid love affair with a spicy hot firefighter. Or at least a dirty romp. It would be stupid hot, right?

Technically, I had one once. But it didn’t really count. He was a friend (with benefits) from college. Years after we graduated he came to visit and we ended up naked in my room. He was a paramedic at the time, and training to be a firefighter. It was hot, yes, but we got together because we’d already been together.

You can imagine my delight when Tinder presented the 34 year old, 6’6″ fireman. Swipe right!! Even better, we matched!!

We started messaging and it was anything but hot. It’s like a fucking job. Dude gave me nothing to work with. Usually there’s some kind of back and forth when you message someone. Trying to get him to engage is like pulling teeth. After a few days, I stopped responding for fear he’d bore me straight into a coma.

Guess who decided to message me again yesterday and today?

Ok, I’ll bite. Know what? He’s still boring.

Why can’t he be hot and interesting so I can play out my fireman fantasies while Monsieur le Baguette works on his rebounds?

Advertisements

A letter to all the single ladies

21 Mar

This is for all my single friends out there. I’m going to give you a gift my friend gave to me in December, a kick in the ass.

This is for those of you wondering where your prince/princess charming may be.  Thinking maybe the reason they haven’t turned up has something to do with you.  Saying to yourself, “maybe it’s me.”  Wondering if you’re too boring, unaccomplished, chubby, plain, old.   Perhaps you think you’re not pretty enough, smart enough, strong enough, fun enough, experienced enough, interesting enough.

Maybe it’s something else.  Maybe all of those things you tell yourself are just that – things you tell yourself.  Bullshit stories you’ve made up that you believe, that you put stock in.  They are bad fairy tales without a happy ending.  Fairy tales aren’t true stories.  You see things in yourself, not nice things, others don’t see and you believe those things.  Those things don’t exist.  Those things are lies.  They are meaningless stories you’ve taught yourself to believe.

It’s time to let those things go.

You are more than enough.  You are a gem.  You are a force to be reckoned with.  You are special.

It’s time to get back out there.  Time to go out and meet people, make new friends, have new experiences, open yourself up.  Get the fuck out there.  Build your profile and put it up online.  Choose whatever dating site you want.  Choose two.  Just do it.  Don’t go into it thinking to yourself, “I’m doing this so I can find my soulmate.”  Shift your thinking to, “I’m doing this to meet new people, learn new things, come up with great stories I can share with my friends, have some fun, try new restaurants and bars.”

Don’t be afraid.  There’s nothing to be afraid of.  What’s the worst thing that can happen?  You take your profile down after a year and haven’t met anyone?  Well guess what?  You will have met people.  And you will have had new experiences.  And you will have grown.  And those things, my friend, are so totally worth it.

Dust yourself off, pick yourself up, and go and see who is out there.  Make out with someone at a bar.  Say yes to things you wouldn’t typically say yes to.  All those things that scare you?  Say yes.  The things that make you feel uncomfortable or you think you can’t do?  Say yes.  When the little voice in your head pops up and sings, “You can’t do it.  You’re not good at it. They’re not going to like you,” tune it out and you fire back with, “I’m doing it.”

Get out of your own way and get the fuck back out there.

You can do it.  When you feel shitty and aren’t sure what to do, or you get some random message you don’t know how to respond to, or you don’t know what to wear, or you’re confused then you’re going to email me and we’ll figure it out together.  I’m going to pep talk the shit out of you and you’re going to do it.

I believe in you, even when you don’t believe in yourself.

Catherinette

catherinette.singleton@gmail.com

It’s your move

20 Mar

Well guess who has been awfully chatty over the last few days?  Looks like the Chess Player still has some moves he’s looking to make.

Saturday morning, barely hours since I had left his apartment, he was texting me.  Asking about the weekend, telling me he’d had fun, wanting to know more about me.  Foundation, I assumed, for a future hook up.  He asked a few questions about why I had decided to go home with him.  He joked about having me back in his exceptionally soft sheets.  Of course he was telling me how hot, interesting, smart, charming, and talented I was, and how much fun he had had.

Wouldn’t you know it?  He’s pretty funny.

He’s also, a bit of shock when you factor in the 11 year age difference, genuinely interested.  Or perhaps it’s that he’s intrigued?  He asks about my day.  I had a big launch of a project I had mentioned to him and he asked how it went.  Do booty calls do that?  Because he also called me “amazing”.  And not in a sexual kind of way (he used “talented” for that).  He also wants to know what kinds of shows I like to watch.  Where I want to go on vacation.  What I like about my job.  The books I like to read.  Today he told me he’s a champion snuggler – I can vouch for those skills.

Texts first thing in the morning and last thing at night (for him).  We were in the midst of texting last night when Monsieur le Baguette called me. I stopped texting the Chess Player, because well it was Monsieur le Baguette, I mean come on!  He assumed that I had just fallen asleep (it was kind of late) and he sent me a little kissy winky face goodnight text.

What’s his game here?

It’s raining men

15 Mar

Dear sister, go away now.  Don’t read this post.  You should probably be doing something with Damien since he’s on spring break.  Bet he’d love to go see Black Panter again.  Oh, or I know!  Maybe you can plan a nice date night for when my bro-in-law gets back in town.  Mom and I can watch the kids on Saturday night.  You should work that shit out.  Also, go away.

Continue reading

Ghost

3 Mar

I have so many questions for you today. Is it called ghosting when someone you’re “dating” disappears because you’re left haunted by all of their nonsense?  Is that why?  It’s the ghost of all of the conversations and trying to figure out all of the clues?

Here’s another question for you: why hasn’t #4 texted me??  The last exchange we had was on Wednesday night.  Crickets on Thursday and Friday.  That’s a pretty loud and clear message from him.  Got it.  Fine (not really).  Look, we all knew he was a douche, and this is typical behavior for a douche bag.

I guess I thought since we had established some time of rapport he’d give me the fucking courtesy of telling me if he didn’t want to pursue anything.  He was really direct before.  So what gives?  Had it been 1 date and he pulled out, totally get it.  We were a month into whatever – texts every damn day.  Then POOF! he disappeared.  Lesson learned: don’t do that to someone.  I’m glad that I had the decency to tell The Tutor that I was out.

But #4 and I  weren’t going to date.  We drew some lines in the sand – “no dating” we said.  “Friends with benefits,” we agreed.  I was very careful to listen to the words he said, I repeated them back to him.  I understood what he was looking (or not looking) for.  Thought we were on the same page. Tuesday night was fun.  He said as much that night and the next night.  Which is what he said he was looking for, fun.

So what the fuck happened?  Me not understand.

I don’t understand men.  They’re stupid.  And so are women.  We spend an inordinate amount of time over analyzing all kinds of stupid nonsense.  Frankly, there are better ways we could spend our time, like watching Netflix, hanging out with our friends and having pillow fights, braiding our hair, doing our nails, overthrowing the patriarchy, fighting to close the wage gap, really anything is better than wasting a second thinking about someone who doesn’t deserve it.

Guess what?  I’m a god damned chick and I don’t know how to turn my brain off.  I know #4 is way too much in his head.  He’s lost in his own emotional baggage which is why he’s disappeared off the face of the earth.  The second the lights go off in my room and it’s time to go to bed my brain goes into overdrive and it’s time to analyze every little thing that happened leading up to, during, and after Tuesday night’s shenanigans.  The muscles in my body are still sore (validating I’m totally out of shape).  If by some miracle I’ve shut off my brain, as soon as I move in bed and I feel the soreness, it makes me think thoughts all over again.  It’s so annoying!

There’s a tiny (or not so tiny) part of me that thinks, “you weren’t enough.”  I’m shutting that shit down pretty quickly.  Or trying to.  For the most part I’m doing pretty well with attempting to distract myself with other dates.  The hard part is that since I have so many questions it’s hard to let go of wanting the answers.

I just want to understand.

And I want him to message me so that we can bone.

My boss told me I should text him “how was your trip?” Then when he responds asking, “what trip?” I should say, “the one in your head.”  I’ve thought about texting him to get out of his own head, remind him it was just a hook up and he knows how to find me.  I’ve thought of a dozen scenarios and clever text messages I could send to hook him back in.  Not going to happen.  I will not text him.  I’ve deleted all of his text messages* and his number from my phone.  We’re unmatched from Tinder.  If he contacts me I’m going to tell him to go fuck himself.**

*Except maybe the texts that popped up on my computer because some of the racy ones were pretty good.
**Or hook up with him again.

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.

Continue reading

Le Swoon

13 Feb

You guys!! YOU GUYS!!  That gif was totally me at the end of my date last night.  Holy Lord almighty.  Swoon.  SWOON, you guys!!  Are you swooning?  I’m still swooning.  I want to spend the entire day just melting and turning into a giant puddle on the floor.  Then I’ll pick myself back up and melt all over the place again.

God bless, #4.

We met up at a restaurant near my house.  I was early, as per usual, and was the only customer in the place.  He walked in and I thought to myself, “hot fucking damn, he is fit as fuck.”  He knows how to fill out a polo shirt.  Looked way hotter than in his pictures.  Like, I felt my ovaries beating hot.  I had to restrain myself from asking him to father my children.  He sat down and immediately faced the bar and I thought, “Fuck, he’s totes not into me.”  Whatever, we’ll have a few drinks and then I’ll go home and line up the next date.

We drank, we ate, we talked politics, family, dating, traveling, pizza, drinks.  I don’t know.  We talked, and he was interesting, and smart, and funny.  And I poked him in the arm and it was rock hard and then I thought, “stop touching him!  He doesn’t like you,” because he was facing the bar.  AND THEN he nudged my leg and I thought, “I’m going to touch his body.”  And then we talked some more, and then I poked his arm again and my ovaries started beating again.  And then he lodged his leg next to mine and my immediate impulse was to pull it away and I thought, “do not move your fucking leg.  You will leave it there touching his.”

But then he asked for the check.

[SAD FACE]

It was a little after 7:30, we’d been there for 2 hours – I could have sat there for 2 more days.  Okay, fine.  Read all the signs wrong, clearly if he wanted to leave then that meant that he was over it.  He was naturally charming, and was being polite in hanging out, and he was ready to go.  And I was bummed.  Then he said, “can I walk you home?” Obviously, I said yes.

So here’s this handsome, younger gentleman walking me home and I had that inner dialogue with my slutty self.

  • Slutty Self (SS): You should just sleep with him.
  • Rational Self (RS): Do not do that.
  • SS: Don’t you want to see him naked? Imagine what he looks like under that shirt?
  • RS: You playing the long game here, or do you want him to touch you all over and then never hear from him again?
  • SS: Is that a bad thing?  Because look at him.  Invite him in the house.
  • RS: Do not invite him in the house.
  • SS: Don’t you want to touch his peen?
  • RS: If you wait, maybe you can touch it more than once…

There we were on my porch and he was looking at the house, and I knew he wanted to come in – but I was not going to invite him in.  Instead, he kissed me on the porch.  I wanted to maul him.  To climb him like a god damn mountain.  I restrained myself.  So he kissed me again, and my inner slut yelled to me, “you’re five feet from the couch, you could be on top of him in less than 2 minutes.”  I thanked him for a good time, bid him adieu, and went into my house where I melted onto the couch.

Of course I needed to immediately start thinking, “WHAT IS GOING TO HAPPEN NOW?? IS HE GOING TO CALL ME?? WHAT IF I NEVER SEE HIM AGAIN??”

Five minutes later he sent me a message in the dating app (because I hadn’t given him my number) thanking me for the date and saying even if I wasn’t sure about a 2nd date, that the kiss is something important to check out.  I immediately wrote back and told him I had a great time and gave him my number.  And in the first few official text messages he wrote, “You were as good a kisser as I imagined.” And that’s when I died. I am dead.

I mean, like, what?  WHAT JUST HAPPENED??

Of course my head told me to take a deep breath and calm down, my throbbing ovaries were making plans for where we were going to do it, and my heart is making plans of its own.  Here’s the thing: this (if there is a this) will be a casual thing.  It will be nothing more than that.  It will burn hot, and it will burn fast.  We all know that the hotter the flame the faster it burns, and I need a slow burn. As much as I may want it to be more than casual, it will not be. So I’m going to keep going out there, and meeting other guys.  The Tutor and I are going out again tomorrow.  I will not get my hopes up (haha, who am I kidding?).  I will let this play out.

And I’ll keep checking my phone to see when he’s going to respond to the text that I sent him this morning.  It’s been 2 hours and he hasn’t responded.  I’m never going to hear from him again.

I ordered a few new bras.  You know, just in case.

Why hasn’t he responded to my text?? Oh wait.  He just did.