What's in a Name?

When I was a little girl, my nickname was Weiner.  This should have been telling. 

I have always been a girl who gives nicknames.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a person, a pet, a place, a houseplant and even an inanimate object.  Perhaps it is my love of words that makes me want to play with them; or maybe I’m just nuts? (Still up for debate)  Either way, I love to give nicknames, especially nicknames that only I use.  

Many of my immediate neighbors in my neighborhood have been given nicknames. Very few of the names are created out of malice. (Ok, there is one lady we call “Pleasant”- because she isn’t- but the majority of the names are not meant to be cruel).  In fact, most of the names come up as a matter of necessity.  We either don’t know their real names (or we didn’t know them at the time the nickname was created) and rather than say “you know the people down the street that have five kids in a townhouse…” we just say “you know, the Duggars!” (named after that crazy family with the 19 kids).

A few other neighborhood examples:   “Lancelot” (because of her Sir Lancelot haircut), Band-Aid Nose (the only time the guy has ever stopped and spoke to us he had a huge Band-Aid on his nose), Hot Cop, who is married to Hot Nurse (seriously one of the most attractive couples I have ever seen), Mustang Sally (that guy loves his car), The Fudds (his name is Elmer) and the Cat Lady.

Some of our nicknames are not short as nicknames usually are.  Case in point: “Majestic Ice Tires.” Majestic Ice Tires is a name that evolved about three winters ago when we had an extraordinarily icy winter.  Our neighbor was terribly upset one icy day because she had bought brand new tires that she was told were supposed to drive on ice. No, seriously.  She was livid that they did not easily drive the 20 feet to the mailbox (that she refuses to walk) on the icy hill in front of our homes.  She was so mad she was going right back to the store to return them for better ice-driving tires.  Perhaps the kind of tires with spikes on them is in order?

Needless to say, the guys I have dated are no exception (if you haven’t already, see the story of Musk from an earlier blog).  Some of the nicknames are obvious: i.e., Shorty, and some are not so obvious like a guy we called Lizard:

Quite a few years ago I had dated a guy for a few months and it became clear that we were not on the same page.  Having recently been divorced, he really wanted to get married again and….well….I don’t.  Furthermore, we both had younger kids and his parenting style was much more lackadaisical than mine.  So while we were out to dinner with our kids, I am correcting my daughter for her behavior or bad manners and he was letting his kids do whatever they wanted.  So I got to the point where the relationship was basically over but not to the point that I let him in on that little fact.  For me, that is usually the place where little things they do start to drive me crazy.  Lizard had this quirk that when he would go to kiss me he would stick his tongue out before he actually got to me.  By the end of our relationship it drove me so crazy that it seemed like he came at me with his tongue out from across the room.  Hence: Lizard.

There was a guy that I dated that we dubbed Missionary Mark, who clearly didn’t have a sexually creative bone in his body (pun intended).  It makes me yawn just thinking about him.

There was a guy I dated that we called Snidely.  It was an incredibly crowded relationship.  There was me, there was him and there was his mustache that he liked to twirl. A lot.

There was the Marlboro Man who very definitely looked like him and even smoked Marlboros to perpetuate the identity.

And then there was a guy that was home on leave from the Navy when I met him out at a club.  We had a fun little tryst and I thought we both understood that is was just that: a fun little tryst.  After he went back to the boat, he ended up calling me (a stalker amount of times), he wrote me love letters and proposing to me via letter.  He basically scared the shit out of me.  He created his own nickname: Psycho Navy Guy.  Granted, it wasn’t very original but I really didn’t want to think about him long enough to give him a good one.

The upside of being given a nickname by me is that you will never be forgotten (even if I wanted to, Psycho Navy Guy).  And who really wants to be forgotten? 

Love,

The Weiner

Monogamy is in the Eye of the Beholder

 They say that beauty is in the eye of the beholder.  It is my opinion that when it comes to dating that adage applies to monogamy as well.  I want to be clear so that you married people out there don’t start sending me hate e-mails: I am only talking about dating.  If you have chosen the marriage route, you have made your monogamous bed and now you must lie in it….with your spouse and ONLY your spouse…forever and ever and ever…and EVER.  

When one discusses monogamy and dating, however, it is not so black and white.  Which leads us to the question: When dating someone, at what point is it appropriate to bring up the subject of monogamy?

I have been on dates with men that seem to want to discuss our future together within a few weeks of getting together.  They talk about what we can do over the summer, over the holidays, etc. This has happened whether sex was already involved or not (but let’s be honest, it usually was).  I can only guess that future to which he refers includes me not dating other men.  So while the actual word “monogamy” is not spoken, is it understood?  Would he get attitude in the next moth if I casually stated that I had a date with someone else on Friday night? I am thinking he would.  Does he have a right to? This is where the waters get really murky.   

The clear and concise conversation was never had.   Some people believe that their first sexual experience with someone denotes monogamy and that it’s understood. Others believe that until the conversation has been had, they are free to screw anyone.  In any case, if monogamy is what you seek, I suggest you put on your big-kid pants and have that difficult conversation.  Do you run the risk of ruining a good thing? Absolutely!  If you are dealing with a commitment-phobe or someone who “wants to take their time” or someone that is trying to set the world record for sexual partners; you are screwed (or in this case, NOT) and you just messed up a good thing.  But isn’t it better to know that sooner rather than later?

I have been on both ends of that situation wherein, while it was early-on in a relationship, I was pissed that it wasn’t perfectly clear that we were not to sleep with other people. On the other hand, I have used the “well, we never talked about it” excuse.  In that case, ignorance was my defense (admittedly it was a lousy one, but it was all I had at the time).  

I remember a long time ago while living in Florida, I met a cute Italian guy when I walked into his family’s pizza shop.  We had a couple of dates and I had already met half his family as they were all working there when I met him, and he started talking about what we would do on upcoming weekends for the foreseeable future. While I was having some fun dating him, I was not feeling the “Head Over Heels Effect” (HOHE) and when he started talking about our future together (and the fact that we would no longer be keeping our options open) I dumped him like a hot potato. Those were the easy days without cellphones so I just let the machine get it whenever he phoned.  Yes, it was lame. But I was young and my balls were not nearly as big as they are now. 

The point is, if I am dating someone that starts talking about a one-on-one relationship too soon, I am more likely than not to excuse myself from the table and head directly for my car while turning off my cell phone all at the same time. I have also messed up a good potential relationship myself when I was feeling the HOHE and tried too soon to get a commitment. It’s a slippery slope.  

So, we can probably all agree that certainly when sex is involved, one expects their partner not to be boning the waitress later that evening. I would have to agree with that (even if the bartender IS smokin’ hot).  Just to be sure, a conversation needs to be had to make sure that you are both on the same page (and in the same sheets).

You know, this could all be solved by Monogamy Card. Each of us is given a card and when we have possession of it, we should feel free to bed anyone with a pulse. But should I decide to give it to a guy, I am saying that I choose to be monogamous with him. If he then hands me his in return: Great! We are now in a monogamous relationship and it was done without all of that messy communication!  Perfect!

Dating and Monogamy

The other day I was watching “Millionaire Matchmaker” on T.V.  I have to say, I love that girl.  The show itself seems rather contrived.  I mean seriously, how many single millionaires can there be out there?  There’s a recession going on! But, I enjoy the Matchmaker, Patti.  She is not intimidated by the millionaires in the least and is part psychologist, part life coach, part bitch.  She doesn’t take crap from anyone and is brutally blunt but smiles the entire time she is telling the poor sap what an idiot he is.  Where do I sign up? Not for the dating portion of the show, as I find that men with copious amounts of money usually want a woman that will keep her mouth shut (sooooo not me).  I want to be the Matchmaker. One might question my ability to be a good Matchmaker in a “Doctor, heal thyself” kind of way but I really want to boss millionaires around for a living (Patti, email me!).

Anyway, I was watching the show and Patti’s mantra is “NO sex before monogamy”. It’s an interesting concept.   Maybe I should try it.  Or maybe not.

As I am big on the “pros and cons” lists, let’s make a list and see where it gets us. Alrighty.

Pros:

1.       Men want what they can’t have. I would assume this is even more the case when talking about spoiled millionaires that can pretty much buy whatever they want when they want it. 

2.       A girl might get to do fun things that she wouldn’t typically do on dates such as helicopter rides, dining in castles, etc. prior to giving “it” up (i.e., why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?).  I can guarantee you this isn’t going to last long.  If a guy flies you to Miami for an authentic Cuban dinner, he is going to expect something in return. I’m thinking you would be lucky to get three awesome dates out of the deal before he expects you to pour him a glass of milk.  Ya know what I mean?

3.       ……    3……    3……. Yep. That’s all I got.

Cons:

1.       Who hasn’t heard the old saying that you wouldn’t purchase a car without test driving it first? An oldie but a goodie.

2.       When does monogamy actually happen? What I mean is, is it when he puts a ring on it? Is it the wedding night? Or is it when he outwardly says “Yep! We are monogamous, now let’s get to the bedroom!” Because if that is the case, I have been monogamous many times in my life.  For that night that we were together, I was all his (whoever he was).

3.       Deal breakers.  This is a huge category. It covers everything from excess body hair to fetishes.  How fair is it to either of you if you allow the (sexless) relationship to proceed for a long period of time, fall in love (or deep like) and then he wants to suck your eyebrows off in the heat of passion?

 It reminds me of a guy I dated for short period of time that my friends and I nicknamed Musk.  Musk and I had quite a few dates prior to my offering him a “glass of milk”.  I noticed the odor immediately but thought perhaps it has been a long, hot day so I let it slide (so to speak).  Unfortunately, this was not the case.  The next time was directly out of the shower and Musk remained….well...…musky.  Deal breaker.  But herein lies the problem.  We had been getting along fine so the fact that I now needed to end it with Musk (or wear a clothespin on my nose) is clearly based on sex and Musk is going to get his feelings hurt.  Everything was great and then we had sex and then I kicked him to the curb.  Had we had sex from the beginning, I could have used any other excuse and not hurt Musk’s ego. I could have said I decided to be in a relationship with a guy I had been casually dating for a while. I could have said I was drunk, that I don’t remember a thing and that I am not that kind of girl. If I saw him out somewhere I could have told him I had lost my cell phone the very next day after our tryst and in the meantime had decided to devote my life to God and I couldn't possibly see him again.  But now, Musk knows that I think the sex sucks and that is why I don’t want to see him anymore.  That seems terribly mean. 

Private note to men:  hair holds odor.  Why do you think women shave their armpits?  Much like you do not want to see a 1970’s bush, neither do we.  I little “manscaping” goes a long way.  

Who says I wouldn’t make an awesome Matchmaker?

Coming soon: Monogamy Part II

Dating and Sarcasm

I am sure this is hard to believe but I have been called a smart-ass pretty much all of my life. I can remember my father calling me a smart-ass when I was a very young age and while I knew better than to retort in kind, my response was: “it’s better than being a dumb-butt.”  

Being born the youngest of four by many years, I spent a great deal of time alone as a kid.  My 10 and 11 year old siblings didn’t want a pesky 5 year old around bugging them (and I don't blame them NOW), so entertaining myself was imperative to pass the boring hours and I was forever making myself laugh.  My mother used to tell me that if given a mirror, I could entertain myself for hours.  That was pretty accurate but not in an “I am so beautiful” way. It was to make funny faces and do or say funny things to crack myself up.

My friends will probably tell you that not much has changed.  My brain has always spoken to me in sarcasm and I find it incredibly difficult to stop…or sensor.  Sarcasm is my go-to defense mechanism whether I am happy, sad, irate, whatever. I very rarely cry and usually end up laughing maniacally at things that would piss most people off.  Chuckling to myself in a crowd is not unheard of thus perpetuating the “that chick is nuts” persona that I have eventually learned to embrace. I have also determined over the years that my joking and sarcasm make people either like me or hate me; there is typically no gray area there. I have learned to embrace that too.  I have never been the kind of girl that needs a million friends around or needs everyone to like her.  A few close friends that know me and love me and I’m good.  To the rest, screw ‘em if they can’t take a joke.

I will admit that in times of extreme disagreement my sarcasm must make me very difficult with which to argue. The one-liners come out like tears at a funeral infuriating my opponent and amusing the hell out of me. Yes. I am well aware that is one for the shrink.

On a side note, God apparently has a great sense of humor too as I gave birth to a kid that not only didn’t get sarcasm most of the time, she hates it.  You’re a funny, funny, God. Very funny.

So, needless to say, when logging onto the dating site, if you come at me the wrong way, you are going to get it back.  For example, one guy wrote me an email that stated the following:

“You seem like a nice girl, what’s the catch?”

My reply: “I am a whore.”

I seriously chuckled about that one for hours.

Another guy wrote: “Is it me or are your boobs massive?”

My response: “They are massive, they are glorious and unfortunately, you will never see them.”  

I mean, seriously? That was his pick-up line? Way to woo a girl, Idiot.  Of course, both men came back for more abuse but I didn’t respond from there. 

Sometimes in life a one-liner is all you need.

Too Much Information

When it comes to dating and men, my friends like to call me paranoid. My mother calls me smart (moms are awesome in that regard, aren’t they?).  I prefer the word cautious.  Many men in the online dating world come out of the gate in their introductory email with “here is my phone number, call or text me”. That opening line typically makes me want to back slowly away from the computer and run in the opposite direction.  Perhaps it’s my knowledge of most things technological (reverse phone number look-up is my friend) or it’s Mama Bear Syndrome trying to protect my cub. Either way, I will not call or text a complete stranger; thus giving them my phone number for future potential stalking.  Fine, I’m paranoid.  There.  I said it.

Needless to say, this “personality quirk” often prevents me from stepping over that line from emailing a man back and forth to actual human contact.  I have to know that I am very interested in a man before I will give out those precious digits and pressuring me too early will only make me stop all communication.  Hence the reason why, after a few months on the dating site, I had yet to go on an actual date.

One day I logged onto the site to check my email, and there was an email from an old acquaintance of mine that I hadn’t spoken to in years.  He stated in his email that he didn’t know that I was on the site too and ended it with “Hey, I’ll take you out for a drink”.  The tone of that statement seemed a little “and cure your lonely existence”, but I thought maybe this would be a good non-threatening way to jump into the dating scene (with one foot planted firmly on the ground). I replied and a date was made to meet for a few drinks at a local establishment (sounds classier than bar, doesn’t it?).
This is where the “too much information” part comes in. 

During those few hours, I was told that he no longer has any contact with his daughter because his horrible ex convinced the kid to say that Daddy did inappropriate things to her and while it wasn’t true, he stopped all contact.  As a woman with a daughter: RED FLAG! RED FLAG!

I was informed that he had a gastric issue so that he could either eat or drink -but not both- as he would get terrible gas. Since he was drinking and quite thin, I am guessing that he was pretty much on a liquid diet. Not to mention that the word “gastric” was brought up on a first date. 

He is currently broke-as-a-joke due to his horrible ex-wife taking him for all his is worth and continuing the cruel treatment to this day.

He had recently been to jail for getting into a bloody, drunken fight while at a sporting event.

And the pièce de résistance: when he drinks and then has sex, women love it because he can (and I quote) “pound away all night” since he can’t get to the end result anyway.

As you probably suspected, I am going to stop here and analyze that last quote.

First of all: OUCH. Contrary to popular male belief, most women do not enjoy their nether-region being jack-hammered for hours at a time. Much like men cringe and grab their crotches while watching funny videos of other men being hit in the nuts by a child’s errant baseball; most women cringe when told that they will be “pounded away” at all night.  Even when I was younger and I had nothing better to do than have sex all day, my partner and I would take many breaks from the fun and eat, get a drink, smoke a cigarette, share a few laughs then go back at it.  It was not a constant pounding for hours on end.  That just doesn’t sound nice. 

Second: while I do remember the days of my carefree youth when I had literally three bills to pay in a month (rent, cable, phone), and I had no responsibilities other than to remember which “Ladies Night” was at which bar on any given day; this is no longer the case.  I now require sleep and lots of it.  

Lastly, might I recommend buying stock in lubricating jelly? You might as well make a buck on all that you will end up purchasing.

My first actual date: epic fail.

Dating and Home Improvements

Having spent the better part of 17 years living alone, I have learned how to do many home improvements.  I can fix my garbage disposal, broken toilets and clogged drains. I can take things apart and clean or fix them; my poor over-worked vacuum cleaner, for example.  I have fixed my own windshield wiper that was flopping around uselessly in the rain and I am the self-proclaimed queen of caulk. (heh, heh, heh)   I have an awesome collection of tools and I am not afraid to use them. I have screwdriver and ratchet sets, a screen installing tool, my own toolbox (and it’s not even pink) and my personal favorite: a cordless drill.  I am woman, hear me drill!
Obviously there are larger home improvements that I am not capable of doing due to either a lack of knowledge or an unhealthy fear of electrical shock and/or fire.  In these cases, I either borrow my best friend’s husband or I hire someone (this being my least favorite option).  

It has been pointed out to me more than once that perhaps my independent “I-can-do-it-myself” attitude is preventing me from finding a guy.  It’s a good question. Guys do love a damsel in distress. Maybe if I were to cry helplessly over my clogged vacuum, my prince will show up on his trusty steed to aid me in my time of despair.

I mean, how many potential dates have I bypassed by doing the home improvements myself? Is it possible that the stars had aligned to have the perfect guy show up at my door to fix my broken toilet or clogged drain and I spit in the face of destiny by doing the repairs myself? Have I determined my own fate by not taking my vacuum cleaner to the sexy vacuum cleaner repair guy?  Yes! I have saved myself thousands of dollars over the years but, maybe I should have spent the money and met a man.  Perhaps finding love is more expensive than I thought?

Over the years I have dated the occasional handy man.  It may not have been their day job but they were handy nonetheless.  Personally, I have found this to be incredibly convenient.  It seems like a fair trade to me. I get things done around the house and he gets home cooked meals, amusing conversation and other fun trades.  I got a new kitchen faucet installed by one guy I dated before he screwed up and I had to kick him to the curb.  Another guy remodeled my powder room during our short relationship.  That situation got a little sticky in the end because I knew he wasn’t for me but had to keep him around to let him finish the job.  Don’t judge me. I cannot replace a toilet.

One day, a few months ago, an attractive man shows up at my door (I friggin love it when they come to me) to see if anyone in my neighborhood needed any work done.  He was filthy dirty from working all day (at least, I hope so) but through all of the dirt, he had really pretty eyes.  As nicknames are my thing, we named him Dirty Doug.  Dirty Doug was clearly interested and invited me to a music event he was attending that night. We exchanged numbers and made a plan. As it turns out, I was unable to make the event that night; (even though I really wanted to see if Doug’s dirt actually washed off) so I phoned him to let him know I wouldn’t be there.  During that short conversation, Dirty Doug informs me that he is in the process of a messy divorce from a woman he was married to for 20 years and that she had drug and gambling problems, cheated on him, took all of his money, blah, blah, blah.  Needless to say, I couldn’t get off the phone fast enough. So, not only will I never know whether Dirty Doug cleans up or not, I saw my list of home improvements getting longer with no end in sight.  It was all very disappointing.

So the question is: do I embrace my defiant independence and continue to do my own work? Or do I stock up on tissues, bone up on my acting skills, and play the damsel in distress, thus taking out a second mortgage to pay for the repairs until I find someone with which to “negotiate”?  Maybe a little bit of both. 

In the meantime, I have a pretty serious leak under my kitchen sink.  Anyone know of a hot, single plumber?

How Young is too Young?

This is a question I have asked myself numerous times over the past year.  And I still don’t have the answer.

I have a few friends that are dating younger guys and I will admit that it looks like fun.  They do exciting things on their weekends:  last minute jaunts to the beach or Baltimore, going out dancing until the wee hours of the morning, that type of thing.  Most of these women were married and divorced and have a kid or two that their exes take on alternating weekends, thus freeing them up for unencumbered weekend fun. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?

One of my biggest problems is that I have a tendency to over-analyze everything. At times it can be a bit stifling but for the most part it works well into my "plan for the worst and hope for the best" personality.    On this particular subject however, it seems to be more stifling than good.  I am having a difficult time with the concept of dating a younger guy because after the night out of drinking and dancing and the awesome sex that I am sure will ensue: what the hell will we have to talk about the next morning? What his mom packed him for lunch yesterday? Does he like syrup on his pancakes??

About a month after the infamous Vern incident, I was feeling restless again. I pulled up my profile on the free site and sat there with my finger hovering over the “unhide your profile” button pondering the  lost hours that I will never get back from the last stint of online dating, corrected myself for overthinking, and clicked the button. I’m back!

Within minutes (and I do mean minutes) of reposting my profile I get the following message from a 25 year-old guy:

Him: I would like to chat with you, email me at handyman38 at yahew dot com or yahew messanger”

Ok, first let’s just stop and feel bad for this poor guy. He must have a huge complex from the lack of responses he is receiving because he can’t even spell his email address correctly.  Sweetie, when it comes to email addresses, spelling is important. 

But he was cute and I was bored so I thought I would respond.

Me: Hi. What would you like to chat about? I mean, you are cute but pretty young. Looking for some motherly advice?

Him: Lol  hahah No I don't need any advice now. Do you have facebook? We could chat on there if you would like.

While he was shiny and new (and looked really bendy), I didn’t respond further.  I really don’t need some 25 year old kid verbally masturbating all over my Facebook page. I am pretty sure my 18 year old daughter would disown me. If fact, I would have to say that I need to automatically dismiss any man in his 20’s as I would not want to fish from the same dating pool as my daughter.

So what about men in their 30’s? And again, where does one draw the line? Is early 30’s too young for a 45 year old woman?  While I am not adverse to this concept, I have to wonder if this is about a relationship or sex.

If it’s about a relationship, many men in their 30’s are still open to having kids of their own (have fun with that) and still have the infamous mid-life crisis to go through (have fun with that too) in which case I would imagine they would buy a convertible and dump me like a hot potato for a blond Barbie.

If this is about sex (and I’m ok with that, let’s just establish that from the beginning), a younger guy has that putty-in-my-hands sheen and that innocent, eager-to-learn look on his face. I like that in a guy. Also, most likely, he would allow me to tell him what to do outside of the bedroom too; another plus when my house needs cleaning or the garbage needs to go out. But after the sex and the chores, what the hell would we have to talk about? 

 My head is beginning to hurt.  I think I am thinking too much.

Footnote: Don't try and email him, Ladies. I changed his email address!

A Man Named Vern

Early on in my foray into free online dating I was sitting in my office pretending to work and I decided to check my emails on the site.  In it I received the following email (copied verbatim):

“Hello my name is Vern and i think your pretty!!! Are you interested in talking and than maybe meeting. If we happen to meet and click ? there is a bike rally this summer June 23,24th,25th,26th Slippery Rock, PA 16057 at coopers lake i'll pay your way if you will be my date for the weekend just have a good time if it leads into more that's ok to . i will treat you the very BEST!!!!!!! would you like to go??? I hope to be hearing back from you thanks. Vern”

No, seriously.  Read that again.  Go ahead.  I’ll wait….

 In most cases I will change the names of the men to protect the stupid (and prevent lawsuits) but really, what other name compares to Vern? Nothing quite fits the bill. And Vern doesn’t strike me as a big blog reader…or a reader in general.

Where to begin….where to begin….

Ok, let’s begin with the zip code.  Why exactly would I need the zip code?

Next question: Who hates their child so much that they name them Vern?  That’s just mean!

Another question: What is the name Vern short for? Vernon? Vernando?  Vernacular?  At least Vernacular sounds intelligent.

Why did he take such a subtle approach? Don’t be shy, Vern.  Speak up.

Imagine moaning his name in the throes of passion “Vern, Oh! Vern! Yes, Vern!”    I don’t think so.

And don’t even get me started on his lack of writing skills…

Typically I won’t deviate from the dating topic -much- but in this case, I feel compelled to perform a public service message (as I am nothing if not charitable):

 To All the Verns in the World,

 You should really change your name.  Trust me. People are making fun of you behind your back. No, seriously. They really are. Don't get mad at me for telling you this. I am trying to help you! They are making fun of you behind your back but at least I am willing to make fun of you to your face!  You’re welcome!

Really though, you should probably go with something normal like Bob (hey, it’s a palindrome! That’s kinda cool) or Tom or Steve. Or if you are into being exotic (and what Vern isn’t, really?), try Alejandro or Fernandez. You get the idea.

  If you are not comfortable parting with your name completely (it was your dead uncle’s name, it rhymes with your mother’s favorite house plant), you could go with an initial as you first name and rock your middle name. It worked for J. Edgar Hoover!

Now back to the blog:

That day I removed my profile from public view.

My First Attempt at Online Dating

I will admit my first attempt at online dating was rather half-assed.  I put together a quick profile on a free site with no picture of myself and waited to see what happened next.  I was amazed at how many motorcycle riding (not that there is anything wrong with that), hunting, fishing and camping guys there are out there, apparently looking for the woman of their dreams that will put on them sexy fishin’ waders  and hook her a Big One.        Ummmm..NO.

Very quickly after my first half-assed attempt, I changed my profile to the following:

“I love to laugh and make people laugh. I enjoy casual and/or deep conversations with intelligent, open-minded people. I enjoy spending time with my friends and family. I have been out of the dating scene for quite some time raising my daughter. Now that she is nearly an adult, it's time to get back out there. I am not into games and pretty much tell it like it is.

I love to travel and see new places but am not into camping (indoor plumbing and hair dryer required). I do not ride a motorcycle but I don't mind if you do. I am very independent and I am not looking for someone to "take care of me". I am financially secure and responsible and I typically do not take kindly to being told what to do. In other words, I am looking for someone to enhance my life, not run it.”

What I found after spending so much time writing and rewriting, getting the wording just right is that very few men actually read the profile.  I thought perhaps key words such as “deep conversations” and “intelligent” would cull the idiot herd.  Apparently not.  One might as well write their profile in Elvish. Men are visual creatures. They see a picture and respond.  I received emails from men in Florida and Colorado wanting me to camp and hunt with them so either they did not read my profile, or they thought they could change me for love.  Sorry fellas. I own real estate and therefore do not need to use the woods as my own personal bathroom.  

 Following the advice of the website, I added pictures to “increase your emails”.  Awesome.   I did find out that online dating pretty much requires quitting your day job- or at the very least taking a sabbatical- to keep up.  

In the beginning, I felt obligated to respond to everyone.  I felt that since they had taken the time to write to me, it would be rude of me not to respond.  But I just couldn’t keep up.  I even wrote a rejection letter that I kept in my computer so I could cut and paste to save time:

 “Thank you for your interest in my profile. In reading your profile, I feel that we are not compatible.  Good luck in your search. I sincerely hope you find that what you are looking for.”

Some of them accepted this graciously, thanked me and wished me well.  Others would argue with me about it, “What do you mean we aren’t compatible?” or “what did you see that makes you think we aren’t compatible?” I did not see the need to respond further with the fact that they were too old, too heavy, too creepy, too illiterate, too whatever.  But after a while even the cutting and pasting became too time-consuming and I am sorry to say, I just didn’t respond at all.  Obviously I still feel guilty about that but I have to keep my job so I can keep my real estate so I don’t have to pee in the woods. 

 One more thing I learned is that some men simply throw shit up against the wall to see what sticks. Much like my pre-written rejection letter, I think they had a pre-written introduction (and I use that term loosely) that they would cut and paste onto an email and send to every new woman that signed up that week.  I only realized this after I would get the same email from the same guys saying the same thing three days in a row.

Apparently many of them took the sabbatical idea to heart. 

Tomorrow: the story of Vern.

...and so it begins...

 My name is Gina and I was married once. For like 5 minutes.  Hard to believe but I have a daughter that turned 18 this year. My ex-husband left when my daughter was 3 months old while we were having the house exterminated.  No, seriously.  I have highly recommended that company over the years.  They really do eliminate all of the pests. 

Since then I have dated (and dated and dated and dated) so much so that I have now become what my friends refer to as a serial dater. 

So here I am, still single (and loving it) and my daughter will graduate from high school soon and go off to college and I will be here alone.  My daughter is concerned about me being alone since it has been just the two of us for as long as she can remember.  My family and friends are concerned as well and think it’s time for me to settle down. I am not so sure.  I really love my single life.  Sure, sometimes it gets  a little loney (and I imagine it will be even moreso when my daughter leaves) and having sex with a warm body can be a good thing (depending, of course, on who's warm body); but, I really do love my single life.  I don't have to cook or clean if I don't feel like it and I don't have to make sure that my legs are shaved (like in the winter when it's cold).  And best of all, I can have sex with whomever I want whenever I want (after having shaved my legs, of course).

Maybe. Maybe I will think about it.  I mean it's not like I haven't tried finding a long term relationship in the past.  I had every intention of getting remarried and probably having more kids 15 years ago.  I dated guys (granted, mostly that I met in bars and clubs) that I thought might turn into something long term but they seemed to want to move so quickly.  A few months of dating and they are talking about moving in together! The thought of having to clean out a dresser drawer or make space in my closet seemed like a lot of extra and unnecessary work. So I typically ended it.  It was nice for a couple of months though.

My mother insists that I won't meet a nice guy in a bar and suggested I try to meet one in church. I imagine I would have to actually go to church in order for that to happen.  "Fine. I'll give it shot," I said, "but it better happen quickly because I am NOT making a habit out of church."   I walked in tentatively waiting to be smited for all of the swearing I do and the sex that I have had but I made it in safely and looked around for the singles section. Huh.  Not readily apparent.  In fact, there seemed to be families everywhere! WTF??  

Coincidentally, because I am a sinner I chose a more casual, laid-back church that wouldn't necessarily toss me out if I got into the moment and yelled, "Yeah! I fucking LOVE God!"  But, because of the casual nature of the church, they readily accept people of alternative lifestyles.  While I have no problem with that, I found myself staring at men that wouldn't stare at me back.  Why are gay guys so damn good looking??  This church thing wasn't working.  On a side note, if churches were smart they would make all of the single people sit in a particular section, perhaps by sexual orientation, thus making it easier to find one another thus ultimately perpetuating the congregation. Unfortunately, none of the church people ask for my opinion.

Being the tenacious (and horny) kind of girl that I am, I was NOT going to give up. 

Shortly thereafter, while sitting around drinking with a couple of girl friends, it was suggested that I find a man in the grocery store. (Looking back, perhaps taking dating advice from married women while sitting around drinking and talking about sex wasn't the best idea, but hindsight is 20/20.)  I was told that when I am out shopping and spot a hot guy in the aisle picking out his pasta sauce, I am to enthusiastically start a conversation pertaining to his pasta sauce needs.  Uh huh.    At the grocery store a few days later, I am approaching a cute guy in the aisle ready to make my move and I begin to play this scenario out in my mind.  I see many various endings, only one of which ends with me meeting the man of my dreams.  Most of the scenarios end with hot guy looking at me as if I am on crack, or his wife walking around the corner, or the guy answering my sauce question followed by awkward silence in which I am obligated to purchase the pasta sauce with meat when I am a vegetarian; so I choked and lost my nerve. 

It is then that I decided to go with the dating plan of the modern age: online dating.  This blog is my dating story:  past, present and future. 

Coming tomorrow: My first attempt at online dating.