Tuesday, December 25, 2012


This is getting ridiculous.

Dude18900: Your gorgeous... wanna chat?
                     Ok your sexy hot and gorgeous... I do have pics and I am cute... would love to chat hun.
                     Sooo cuteee.
                     Ok so your sexy as heck... care to chat?

My response: *you're.

I am going to start adding these up.

Wednesday, December 12, 2012


I fully intend this to be a quick post just to update, but I obviously tend to be long-winded, so hopefully if I run lengthy I can break it up with funny pictures and you'll forgive me.

I definitely have one thing to thank Thing Two for: during finals week I usually stress eat anything I can dip in ranch, but the burning annoyance I still harbor actually has made me lose weight. So, the revelation of your dickish actions has actually made me hotter. Thanks.

I honestly feel that 1) My reaction to this situation could have been reduced, somewhat, if I had only dated more frequently in my life instead of sitting around waiting for "special" guys who turn out only to be especially good at disguising the fact that they're kind of jerks. And

2) That distance has made this more difficult to process. I am unable to do the standard ex-girlfriend-finds-out-you-dated-someone-immediately-after-her crap, like slashing his tires, or junk-punching him in front of his new girlfriend.

Although it might still be worth the plane ticket for that.

However I've had my little tantrum and now I feel better and also can fit into my skinny jeans. My friend sent me this which pretty much summed it up perfectly:

P.S. I hope you got syphilis for your birthday.

So I have finally gotten my college career out of the way, and will be graduating this weekend. This means it's time to get back into the World O' Dating.

I'm still in contact with Skinny Guy and Scientist Guy, both of whom are eager to take me for a post-college drink. I really enjoy text-talking to both of them, but texting can only go so far.

Pretty far, for me (I text with love), but still...

Good Personality Guy invited me to his book signing tomorrow--oh yeah, did I forget to mention? He writes fucking books. Can I seriously marry this guy and live a sexless lifestyle ogling the hot Latin pool boy and adopting Chinese babies?

I was kind of figuring on that anyway... but this way, I'd get tax breaks.

Band Hair Guy texted me again, like forever after the last I'd heard from him, telling me he had been busy, etc. I answered back and I believe it was a full day before I got a response. Band Hair Guy out. I'm too needy for that. If you don't text back within thirty seconds I naturally assume you're having sex with someone else.

There's been a rush on me to move out of my lovely, cat-friendly home, so I will be moving back across the state as of next week. This throws a bit of a wrench into my dating plans.

I was contacted by an actually cute guy on OKC who seemed really nice, so I regretfully informed him, that while he was attractive, etc, I would be leaving shortly. He was totally okay with that and asked me what I look for, sexually, in a guy, so I don't really visualize any white picket fences at the end of that meeting.

Interested in my prospects and with a vague hope of continuing my blog with less whining and more dating/humorous anecdotes, I joined Plenty of Fish.

Guess what? POF is for hook ups.

There might be one or two poor, foolish souls (like myself) out there who think that, hey, maybe they'll find someone nice and hit it off with them via POF, but pretty much everyone else is thinking, how can I show off my abs to the best advantage in this grainy bathroom mirror shot?

Gonorrhea? That's a French-ass name!

But here is my favorite--one of my friends informed me that a man had sent her a rather inappropriate message. I happened to get the same message only a day later--no time wasted here. This is how it went down:

"NOT sure if this is u or not... BUT if u never ask, then u never know right? lol so... i dont wanna get laid, dont wanna get head... BUT what do u thing about this offer? i prefer the company of a more mature woman and it seems like u have ur stuff together. i have a bucket list thing im curious about n wanna ask ya... how is this for something new? i only ask cause im very unselfish, giving, and well... would u b up for a 1x only wonderful and multi-orgasmic oral only time?"


Understand that this continues, and when I finally deciphered what the hell he was trying to say, it sort of deteriorated into something from the novels I like to read in bed over a long weekend. "Waves of pleasure" and whatnot.

"Um, it's just my back massager! Don't open the door!"

He clearly used a (very poorly constructed) template to send out this charming invitation to lots of females, such as myself and my friend, and when I got over deciding whether or not I found "mature" insulting, I responded:

"I would normally be totally down for this, but I know that my friend got this exact same message, and now I just. don't. feel. special."

Lucky me, I got an answer--a personalized answer!

"lol u have to knock on a few doors b4 u get an answer... u know what i mean? she must b as attractive as u r tho cause i def prefer the quality of a woman... looks and whats in her profile... as oppossed to quantity. then if ud like to experience this... say yes to my offer b4 she does. i am only lookin to find one woman to do this with... and hope she is not a psycho or a stalker... do u fit that bill?"

Then he went on to describe, in great detail and shorthand, his excellent abilities, which I will not relate because my mother reads this blog and I am already regretting the back massager joke.

I saw my out and a way to avoid getting murdered by this 40 year old trucker-hat wearing man who uses "b4," and answered that unfortunately, I am both a psycho and a stalker, so I just didn't see it working out.

He messaged me later asking if I'd consider doing headshots (That's code for naked!) and I just told him nope.

Oh, yeah. Shoot me all over my head.

So while I've gotten 53 messages in, what, two days? and most are "hi your cute u wanna meet?" there actually are two that I answered, who are both attractive and can take the time to type three letters out into a sentence.

Bonus, one looks like TJ Thyne's more ripped brother.


And the other one looks like he could beat up TJ Thyne's ripped brother.

With that--OH SHIT--

I just realized I forgot to answer a text from Quippy Guy, who has made almost no impact on me other than he's kind of funny, asking to meet tomorrow. Now I'm ignoring texts from guys asking for dates?

                        ...Does this make me a gangster?

Thursday, December 6, 2012

Quick Update: Heartsies

I would just like to say that you guys have been awesome. I really did not anticipate how much comfort I would get from everyone. And you're all right--he's a dick. Thank you for acknowledging that and adding your own colorful terminology.

Upon further consideration, I am even more certain that he is a dick. 

Evidence (verified by e-mails):

October 1st--Initial breakup. Boo. Sad girl MeMe. Yet, 'twas for the best, no?

October 19th--Discussion about getting back together. Declaration of devotion. Actual quotes:

"I highly doubt I'll be dating anytime soon. I can't even think of being with anyone but you. I might have to make some new friends so that I have someone to hang out with other than THIS GUY (ugh) or THE OTHER ONE (ugh), but dating...I don't think so."

"I would love to have the chance to prove that I'm still crazy about you. I am."

"There's something potentially amazing here. I think we just have to get to a point where we can trust each other, and know that we won't lose each other again."

Oh good. I was just getting to that point right around---

Halloween: picture post of new chick who was clearly into him. Not sure of exact date, but safe to say October 31st at latest (suspicion of 27th or 28th as the 31st was a Wednesday).

My first blog post: November 2nd. 

He also mentioned he had met her on OKC. So for this to work out, he would have had to have had an ad out well before my blog began. Also possibly even earlier than I'd like to consider, because to me meeting someone at a Halloween party isn't a first date kind of thing.

But I won't read too much into that one. It makes my brain (ego) way too bruised.

November 6th: E-mail fight about the blog.

So theoretically at some point between the 2nd and the 6th he showed her my blog. Why he thought that was a good idea, I don't know. But I'm not taking blame for that one.

Don't show your date the blog your ex wrote about you, and then email your ex to stop writing mean things.

 Or... OR... email her something really nice and hope she adds what a great ex boyfriend you are? DEVIOUS! You crafty bastard.

Either way, I'm definitely realizing I got screwed here. Fed a lot of lines during a relationship, made to feel special, treated really well at first... and all of that tided me over, while I was frustrated and lonely, and I felt obligated to hang around because he had been so nice in the beginning, after all, so why was I being such a needy biatch?

 Annnnnd any potential guilt over blogging on my dates has dissipated.

What I have learned from this unfortunate experience:

1) Nice guys may seem really nice, but they may not be. They may be very nice at first and cash in on that niceness later, when they're being utter douchebags and gaslighting you. Don't be fooled. If you're not happy, it's not your "fault." If you're not happy, then something just isn't working.

2) Unfortunately this does not seem to be the case with jerks, wherein they seem really jerky, but actually they're just misunderstood and really rescue old ladies from purse jackers and have a three-legged dog and suddenly your life is a Nicholas Sparks novel. They may seem like a jerk but they are probably just a huge fucking jerk. 

3) Also, this happens to lots of people. Like, tons. I've commiserated with quite a few of you since this event, and now I realize that people are actually awful, and honestly, I could have had it much worse. But I am reminded why I avoid dating. And friendships. And human beings in general.

My cats will never leave me.

Note: I am certainly not turning into a man-hater now.

Well, maybe temporarily. Once a month it's to be expected anyway; this just piggybacks on the Red Days.

I have also realized that I have some excellent guy friends out there who really are those nice guys that stay nice forever. And I am much more appreciative of them and all their goodness, and I am very happy for their ladies or future ladies.

So, in conclusion, the girl things are done--the call your best friend, call your mom, cry in the shower things--and I feel better. Better, largely, because I did the maths and I was clearly the injured party here so don't GIVE me that crap about how you're just doing what I was doing. I ain't no saint but I WIN THIS ONE SUCKER.


Better because I know that there are nice boys and kind men out there....

...and I'll be very happy to have them come visit me in my house full of stray cats, because right now, that's looking like the best option here.

And yet...

I have had some very interested parties eagerly awaiting the end of my finals, that they may buy me a beer and celebrate with me.

Why waste free drinks?

Tuesday, December 4, 2012

The Ex: A very long rant.

  Where to begin, where to begin...

   It seems so pathetic to return to ex-boyfriend drama when this is a blog about dating, meeting new people, coming out of my shell. But it's so hard for a girl who's already crippled by so much to keep moving forward when they just KEEP DRAGGING ME BACK.

   And while this post won't be funny or witty, or probably very optimistic, 1) it will make me feel better and 2) it's important to note when you start to think, 'where the hell did this girl get so many issues from?'

   Oh, if you only knew the half of it, folks.

   So here's the truncated story.Truce is off. I desperately hoped to preserve something between us, because I thought there was something good there, but I was wrong. As per usual.

   It does seem to be the same trend with my men. Dammit! I try so hard. Every girl's got some Daddy Issues  chewing on her heels, so I weigh the factors. I do my research. I try to find the nice balance between logic and emotion. And yet, I keep getting screwed by men who love me hard and fast, and then go their merry way.

   And I don't mean in the bedroom, because, well...

   When I started this blog, I was trying to get over a broken heart. As I said previously, my heart has never really been broken before. I didn't quite know what to do with it. This has been both fun and educational, as I had hoped. A way to be less shy. A way to learn to meet people, and to become comfortable with myself and what I have to offer. A way to get free liquor. Something to write about.

   Not once have I made any claims that I'm looking for something major. I'm pretty sure you can quote me on that. Maybe I was, in a way, hoping a little to make Thing Two jealous. Miss me, even. Make him realize what he had done wrong.

   Why I cared that much about a guy who, upon our break-up, mailed me a card that said "hang in there" is beyond me at this point.

   Almost immediately that wish came true. I received an e-mail from Thing Two apologizing. He said he had just been thinking about me, and happened to re-read our break-up conversation e-mails. You know, the ones where he starts out telling me he misses me, and that maybe we broke up for the wrong reasons, and that I'm always going to be his dream girl... and end with him suggesting I take Paxil. The ones where he tells me I "have a high level of need" and it's "exhausting." That it "takes work, emotionally, to be with me."

   This, if I never mentioned, was a long distance relationship. Yes, I have a level of need. Send me a fucking. Text. Message. How hard is that?

Aren't you thinking of me? 

 Oh, God. And when I send you a picture of my boobs, don't just say, "cool, thanks." Nothing makes a girl feel less attractive than her boyfriend's total lack of interest in her boobs. Especially when this comes with a history of criticizing my sexual abilities and turning me down when I want sex. That doesn't at all make me violently insecure. Not at all.

   So he apologized. It was a really beautiful apology too. It literally said all the things I needed to hear--the stuff, hey, that might have kept me from BEING such a needy psycho bitch, had it been mentioned at some point during our last moments. But better late than never.

   He realized he was an asshole. He realized he said the wrong things. He reminded me it's okay to be who I am, and yes, he HAD been trying to change me, despite me being very clear about it early in the relationship that being forced to change is one of my bigger fears.

   It felt... amazing.

   There was no way such a timely e-mail could hit my box, with specifications so exact, unless he had read this blog. And I mentioned that.

   He lied. He said he had no knowledge of a blog.

 "Blog." Blog is a funny word. So is "tequila..." Teeheeeeeehee. *Drinks*

   Now, I know some of you don't know me that well. Or at all. But don't lie to me. Lying to me is the worst thing you can do. Because I know you're lying. Or I will find out you're lying. I'm not stupid.

   With that, the warm glow was over because I knew what it was. An ass kiss. A Please Stop Writing About Me, Ass Kiss.

Hmm... Which douche should I skewer today?

   We fought. Probably for the first real time, although every god damn time I opened my mouth he accused me of fighting with him, to my mind we actually only had a few fights. This was a good one. Actually, kind of felt good to finally show a little temper after constantly being told I had one.

   However, after the anger wore off, I thought about it. He had treated me well. We had been friends. I missed talking to him. That wasn't a door I wanted shut. Maybe we wouldn't date again, but I wasn't ready to let it all go.

   So I apologized. I didn't write about him again.


   Picking up where our story left off mid October, we stayed friends... ish. I'm really not sure where the line is, to be honest. I've never stayed friends with an ex. I tried to not text too much, to be cool but friendly. It was... nice. I have been feeling better about myself since getting out there and dating, since getting such nice feedback from everyone about my writing (check "dying penniless" off my list!), and realized that, although things were nice, he and I were not right for each other.

   No matter how many times someone tells you they love you for who you are, if they try to change you, they do not. And I deserve someone who does.

   And thank God I realized this before the plans to move out there to live with him took effect. About two weeks before we broke up, when shit got real and we started looking for apartments, I had started to panic. Honestly, I wasn't that sure that he loved me enough for me to give up my entire life and move to California. I was giving up everything for someone who seems lackluster at best. So I got needy. I demanded attention. I demanded reassurance.


   It didn't come. If I had gotten that, I would be apartment hunting right now. I may be dumb, but I'm not trapping myself across the entire fricking country with no money and no friends for a man who promises that he loves me the best of everything, but who I for some reason always pictured yawning when I finally bitched and twisted his arm into him telling me so.

   So things were good. Clearly we weren't meant to be together.

   I'm not so stressed and angry. I've been feeling more... myself. Remembering who I am and what I actually like, what I stand for, what sets me off. What I have to offer. Although I still have moments of loneliness where I will text and facebook everyone and anyone when I can't get a hold of my bestie, I was in a good place.

   Well, that got shit right to hell.

   I won't go into serious details because you probably stopped reading anyway. I had commented on his facebook picture today, and he deleted the picture. I asked him about it and he told me that it had been on a date, and "ex comments felt a little weird."

   I wasn't thrilled, but I wasn't surprised either. I'm not an idiot. I'm a girl, and we can read body language  like a fortune teller reads tarot cards. I knew there was someone interested in him, and I figured, at some point, that would lead to him dating her.

Because he just loooves getting into long relationships.

   I'm a cool, mature person. Pssh. I can handle that. It's been two months. Not long, maybe. Maybe I would prefer it if he had stuck to his guns about how he just couldn't imagine dating anyone but me for a little while longer, maybe made it seem a little better that I had been about to move in with him in a matter of months. Hm. But, okay. I'm realistic.

   Oh, by the way, she loves your blog, he told me.

   Mmk. Well. Nice to meet a fan. Not really sure how the subject of my blog came up with the girl he's now seeing, but hey. I appreciate readership.

   And that's when he told me that the reason he had been so angry about my blog is because she reads it.

   Hang on. Flash back here. Because I'm pretty sure two weeks before I started this blog you were still asking to get back together and complaining of a broken heart. Which would put it a solid one month after we broke up and two after we almost reunited.

   Erm, okay, yes. I have a dating blog. Holy black kettle, right? But I really, legitimately am not taking this seriously as a way to find a mate. Maybe I didn't stress that enough. This is for sheer fun and experience, so those of you raising your eyebrows at me, just... chill out. I've had two serious boyfriends in 26 years, didn't I mention that?

    And one of them (the only one I loved, incidentally) just told me he started dating someone a month after we broke up. Two weeks after we almost got back together.

   Plus this is MY blog and I am the heroine of my own story. Everyone has their own side of an issue, but not everyone BLOGS ABOUT IT.

  So what did I learn from this.

   1) That he WAS lying with his apology.

   2) That he WAS lying when he told me all that shit about how much he loved me.

   3) He really DOESN'T think my boobs are all that great (They. Are.).

   4) That I am easy to get over.

And now I'm facing the eternal dilemma, the one I have deftly managed to avoid to this point.

Now I get to look myself in the mirror and ask, what's wrong with me that I am so quickly forgotten?

   How's about NOTHING! So goooo fuck yourself.

   Everything good I have left of you is tainted by your demonstration of just how little I actually meant to you. I may be going on dates, but I'm still recovering from a major break-up. To me, they are separate. This experiment in no way made it "better" that I was left because I just wouldn't settle down for you. That you made me feel like I wasn't good enough.

   That somehow I turned into the crazy one because I wanted to stay with you so bad I lost all sanity trying to squeeze what I needed out of you. Somewhere down the line, you switched. I never changed, but you did.

   You built me up onto a pedestal, and then you kicked it out from under me. And shrugged when I acted surprised.

   In a year or so I'm sure I'll smile and hope he's very successful and happy, with that girl, with another, whatever... but at this point? I'm more hoping he runs his car into a billboard.

Such as this one.

   The one good thing about this is that I finally get those scenes in movies where the heroine breaks a plate and cries off her mascara. I used to think it was a total overreaction, but you know what? It really fucking sucks when someone makes you feel... disposable.

   Although I have now discovered breaking a plate is really not all that exciting or rewarding.

   That is a major life disappointment.

Saturday, December 1, 2012

The Question of Casual Sex

The Post My Mother and I Will Never Discuss:

Today my messages contained something out of the ordinary. No attempt to get to know me, flatter me, or recommend themselves. No mention of my profile, or the things we TOTALLY have in common, or how I'm very pretty and probably not interested but just in case they're super hoping to hear from me...

All it said was this:

"Hey, would you be interested in casual sex?"

I clicked it immediately, ready with my usual cutting sort of reply I keep handy for those disrespectin'--something along the lines of "Not with you."

Maybe just a "BAHAHAHAHA! No."

Only, he is hot. Like, smoking hot. Game-changing hot. Like if Ryan Gosling told me, hey, so, we can bang, but like, no one gets to know about it.

Obviously that's a bad example, because Ryan Gosling would fall desperately in love with me.

I am not a casual sex girl. I fall more into the qualifications of "Tease" and "Make Out Slut." I'll chat you up, kiss you, and send you on your way. No commitment, no one gets hurt, everyone has a good time, and I don't have to worry that some stranger is going to be disappointed by my naked body or lack of flexibility or leave me with a case of urine that burns.

Not that I disapprove of this past time, or have any moral or religious hang-ups. I simply do not understand how it is done. There have been moments, I'll admit, where I think, screw it. This guy has been talking to me for an hour and he is only getting dumber. I'll just give him a fake number and tell him he has to leave early because I have softball practice or I have to meet my cousin for brunch or I'm actually a vampire and if the sun comes up before I make it to my secret spot I will burn to ash, and I can't reveal where my hidden coffin dirt lies lest he try to stake me in my death-like slumber.

Can I just say, "go away before I'm awake so I can pretend this never happened? Thanks in advance, it's been real." Men like honesty, right?

Yet I have never been able to do it. I chicken out. Generally I weigh the risks versus the results and I'm pretty sure the result "herpes?" trumps any mild itch that might need scratching.

Better a mild itch than a permanent one.

I've consulted friends on this matter, and they have assured me it is not rocket science and that I am severely over-thinking it.

But if someone, off the Internets, has openly admitted he has no interest in conversation, just straight sex, how does that work? Does he just show up at the door, and we walk, without speaking, to the bedroom? What kind of greeting do I use? "Hey, bed's right here?"

Do we fall into each other's hungry arms without a word? Am I supposed to serve him appetizers, maybe a drink first? Make some small talk? What if I hate him immediately, or he's a terrible kisser? Can I just tap him on the shoulder and say, "Mmk, you gave it your best but I don't see this working?"

Maybe "Oh, by the way... I have HIV, you're cool with that, right?" might work better if I need to clear the room.

So I responded, trying to get the details here. I admitted that it wasn't my usual style, how did one go about having "casual sex?"

The answer: "Pretty much no strings attached, just getting together and having sex. We could do something first if you want (drinks, movies, whatever), I just haven't been laid in a while with school being so busy and wanted to be up front about what I want. Are you interested?"

Huh. Okay, so at least I can get liquored up beforehand, but how do I sit across the table from someone who I know doesn't give a crap about my story about my cats and is just waiting for me to shut up and  take my shirt off. But like, openly. That's already been acknowledged. I know it. He knows it. My cats know it. It's like being a prostitute only I'm getting paid in penis.

While I was pondering the strange-itude of all of this, a perfectly nice and attractive personal trainer messaged me, and lost in my new masculine attitude of "Sex. Whatever. Pssh." I immediately asked if he wanted to meet for a beer. He shyly told me he'd like to get to know me better first.

Men are so weird.