Phuket is Not Just a City in Thailand

So clearly the dating game has hit a brick wall. A brick fire wall. You know the kind that keeps fire on the other side of the wall? Yeah, that kind. Granted, I may be a little gun-shy after the last guy (that I almost dated) who couldn’t even remember which chick I was; but the point is, things have been a little slow. On the other hand, I have been very busy adjusting to my new life as an empty nester. I have been filling my days with such life-changing things as cleaning out closets, reorganizing bathrooms and making a Facebook page for my dog (true story).

My most recent venture (and as it turns out much more interactive than my dog’s Facebook page): a neighborhood book club.

Two years ago I belonged to a book club that I enjoyed a great deal. It allowed me to read books that I would not normally read, and the women involved had vastly different viewpoints (conservative) than the people with which I usually hangout (not conservative). It was a very diverse group that brought interesting input to the discussions. They even put up with my crazy antics and choice of mindless books (usually of a sexual nature). What I didn’t like about it was driving all over God’s creation to go to the meetings (which left drinking to a minimum. Boooo! ). Eventually the vast differences in the members created bickering and in-fighting that led to the club’s demise. I believe it’s still active, but many of the original members are gone.

I remember on one particular evening we were finished discussing the book and somehow the talk turned to sex and then, our number of sexual partners. Normally I know better than to share that information but Of COURSE the conversation began with “you can be honest” and “no one will judge you”. So when I said my number (or the closest I can get), one of the girls (who has been married for many years and whose number is supposedly 4) said, “Wow. You were a real slut, weren’t you?” Typically name calling doesn’t bother me. No one is surprised by the fact that I enjoy sex and when you enjoy something, why would you want to have the same kind every day? It’s kinda like eating cookies. If you really like cookies do you want the same kind of cookie day after day? No. You want a variety of cookies so they don’t get boring. But it wasn’t so much the words coming out of the girl’s mouth that bothered me, but rather whose mouth out of which they came. I never suspected this woman to be judgmental until that night and I never looked at her the same way again in the future.

Anyway, eventually I quit that book club but I did miss the camaraderie and discussion so I thought I would start one in my own neighborhood (where I can just stagger home after an enlightening evening of profound discussion and massive quantities of wine). I already had a few women in mind to invite but I know these women well and we are all pretty likeminded. I wanted some real differences of opinion so I thought of an older woman that lives in my hood. She is probably in her 70’s, is a lot of fun and seems young at heart. (Come on! She even got her first tattoo at 60!) So I assumed she would be okay with our group. I phoned and invited her to join telling her I thought she would be a great addition and would bring some different perspective to the club.She told me she was interested but the only thing holding her back was that she “didn’t like the ‘F’ word”. Uh-oh.

Anyone who knows me (or reads my blog) knows the love affair I have with the word “fuck”. The way it rolls of the tongue when used in the middle of a fucking sentence; the harshness of it when it’s over annunciated as an expletive. FUCK! It’s awesome! And don’t even get me started on its versatility. Furthermore, it’s become so main-stream with so many variations used - even in freaking television these days - I just assumed that it was no longer offensive in casual conversation. Obviously I wouldn’t use it in business; but, that girl in the suit speaking in a professional voice and acting like she cares what you have to say isn’t the real me anyway.

Needless to say, I was pretty surprised by my friend’s reaction to the word and the fact that she hated it so much it would keep her from joining our group. What happens if someone chooses a book that uses the word freely? Would that offend her too? I needed to know more. “Really? Why?”, I asked. She didn’t really give me a specific reason but rather told me a story of a bunch of women with whom she used to go camping that used the word freely. She said that she eventually confessed her disdain for the word and in lieu of using the word they started calling it the “PH” word. Wait, what?? It’s one thing not to use the word or to call it the “F” word in lieu of that, but even the acronym for it has to change? WHAT THE PHUK IS THAT???

Of course I love words and I have always been of the belief that words are only powerful if you empower them. I mean, let’s say someone calls me an idiot. I know I am not an idiot and therefore those words are powerless. On the other hand, let’s say someone calls me a slob. I don’t consider myself a slob but if I am honest with myself, I would have to admit that I do have a tendency to be messy; so that may hit a nerve. Another example: a famous politician is giving a speech. If you lean toward that candidate’s way of thinking, you find it to be powerful. But, if you don’t agree with the candidate and you don’t believe a word that is coming out of his mouth, then his speech doesn’t mean shit to you. So why give so much power to one particular word?

Some of my friends have issues with certain words and I find it amusing (and totally use it against them). One of them doesn’t like the word “panties” and another hates the word “moist”. I can annoy them both in one fell swoop by saying “My panties are moist.” BAM! As for me, I can only think of one word that can physically make me flinch when someone uses it: the “N” word. I don’t believe that word should be used by anyone be they white or black. I do however believe that I have good reason; having seen the movie Roots as a child and having been impacted by the horror of that movie, it takes me back every time I hear it. Other than that, words don’t bother me.

Anyway, as there is no way for me to curb the entire group’s language, much less my own (nor would I want to), unfortunately there is one less addition to our book club. What a shame that one word can be given so much power as to keep a woman that doesn’t get out much from having a fun evening out. We do, however, have a great name for our club: it’s a Fucking Book Club.

So now I am curious if there any words in particular that my readers can’t stand? If so, is there a reason behind the disdain for the word or is it just the way it sounds?

Guest Blog: A Man's Point of View

As one of the author’s readers and close friends, I have immensely enjoyed the wit and wisdom of her blog. Yet in spite of the classically distasteful spin regarding online dating sites, I have ventured down this scary road on my own recently. With little time for the bar scene, and rare other chances to meet someone of the opposite sex, I thought I would give it a try. I figured it could not be as bad as everyone says. Certainly the horror stories and blog posts are exaggerated, under artistic license, to enhance the reader’s enjoyment. But alas, I was wrong.

The stories, if anything, have been underplayed. Either in an effort to protect the guilty or at least to not completely disenfranchise the reader, she has made it seem that online dating is suspect, inconvenient, and fraught with small dangers. It is a lot worse than that. It is a minefield of misrepresentation, outright lunacy, and enough unresolved issues for a thousand doctorate degrees in psychology.

I joined a common dating site, and like most, the users are encouraged to post pictures. In fact, I am sure that profiles without pictures are readily dismissed, as it is a prominent criterion for any search you may want to do. The site makes it convenient to quickly eliminate the profiles without pictures. Yes, we are all still hard-wired to be physically attracted to our mates, at least initially. I know beauty is only skin deep, but butt-ugly is more often than not a deal breaker. So I have had to peruse thousands of pictures of single women. Seriously, what are these women thinking? If a picture is worth a thousand words, some of these photos are screaming in a foreign language.

As a community service, I thought I would share some suggestions for female dating site users that may help.

1.       If your profile says that all your kids are over 18, then the picture you have with your son when he was 8 may be considered outdated.

2.       If you only post one picture, and it is a group shot of you and your girlfriends at some event, try letting us know which one you are.  Me: “Are you the one in the middle?” Her: “No, I am the one second from the left.” Me: “Can you introduce me to the one in the middle?”

3.       If you are posting a picture of you with your pet, that’s great. If it is just a picture of your pet, don’t bother. I am not looking to date your pet (though some men on the site might be).

4.       If your profile says you are not looking for sex or “one night stands”, avoid the pictures of you on your bed dressed in lingerie. It sends a mixed signal.

5.       If you want to post something sexy or provocative, avoid the overhead shot looking down your cleavage. It is way overdone. Every woman has tits and there is probably a classier way to insure he knows you have big ones. If you’re not looking for sex, see suggestion above.

6.       If you post multiple pictures and they are all close-up face shots, we are going to assume you are "larger than life" (and I am not talking personality here). 

7.       If your profile says you drink socially, it's probably best to not have every picture you post be of you in a bar with a drink in your hand. Unless, of course, you mean “socially” as in anytime I am near people.

8.       Don’t post an old picture of you and your ex from your wedding. Not sure exactly why this doesn’t work, but it just doesn’t.

9.       Don’t post pictures in which you are not pictured. No one cares about your favorite poem, the cool picture of butterflies you found on the internet, or your grandma’s cookie recipe.

10.   Don’t post the picture you got from “Glamour Shots”. Men can recognize them easily and we know you don’t look like that without hours of hair and make-up work done in a professionally lit studio.

11.   Be aware of your background. The great pic of you can be a turn off if behind you is a kitchen table full of junk, dishes overflowing out of the sink, or your 200 count Prozac prescription bottle.

12.   Don’t take a picture of yourself in the mirror holding your phone. This screams that you don’t have at least one friend who would be willing to take a picture for you.

Thanks for reading and happy hunting!

 

In his spare time, Brad writes his own incredibly intelligent blog.  Check it out:

http://commonsensiblyspeaking.com/

Hugs, Gina

Problem Solved

This blog is an update to “The Quandry” posted on 08/25/2012, so if you haven’t read that one yet, I encourage you to do so.  Go ahead. I’ll wait….

At the time that I wrote that previous blog, I skipped a portion of our conversation due to my perceived lack of relevance to the story.  Ultimately, it did become relevant so I will have to back up a minute and fill you in:

During our original meeting, somehow the topic of vacation homes was brought up.  He stated that he was on the look-out for a home near the beach where his parents live in a different state. I stated that I was hunting for one near my parents’ beach house as well, which ended up being not too far away from his parents’ home.   (See? Doesn’t seem real relevant does it?)

So when he called me a bit later to ask me to the ballgame (and informed me of the many girls that he dates), he brought up the fact that he had found a home very close to his parents and that he was looking for someone to invest in a property with him. He then began a small “interview process” to see if we might be compatible business partners (Wait. What?).  Call me a cynic (it’s okay, everyone else does) but I barely know this guy and he is “interviewing” me for an investment opportunity?

He begins his interview with the question “are you a clean/neat person?”  I answer that cleanliness is a relative term and that if you were to ask my friends with kids, they would probably say that I am. However, if you were to ask my mother (a certified clean-freak) she would probably say “No”.   

He goes on to say that we would have to agree on which dates/weekends each of us would get use of the place (of course, this is after he had already informed me of his other two women, and all I can think of is that I would have to anti-bacterial all of the counters each time I went there for fear he was banging some girl in the kitchen).

He continues, “So ummm…let me ask you,  your voice sounds a little scratchy. Do you smoke?” 
“Yes.  Yes I do.”  (I wanted to follow this answer up with the fact that I do an incredible Kim Carnes impersonation of “Betty Davis Eyes” but thought better of it.)

He continues, “Do you smoke in the house?” 

This seems like a legitimate question for a potential housemate so I answer, “No.  I do not smoke in my house.”

Next question: “So you don’t smoke in your car?” 

Huh?? What the hell does my car have to do with this??  But I answer anyway, “Oh no, I totally smoke in my car. I drive around all day for a living. My car is a rolling ashtray.” 

At this point, fully expecting his next question to be if he can see my financial portfolio, I changed the subject.  Basically, I have no interest in sharing my potential beach house with anyone; as I have stated before, I am not a good sharer.

Three weeks go by and I don’t hear from this guy at all.  Nada. Nothing. Zilch.

Saturday night I am out with some friends and my phone rings: it’s him.  I let it go to voice mail because (1) I am out; and (2) even if I were home I wouldn’t have answered it because it’s Saturday night and I wouldn’t want him to KNOW that I was home on a Saturday night. When I get home, I check my voice mail.  His message goes something like this,  “Hi Gina. I don’t remember whether you said you like baseball or not, but I have these two tickets for tomorrow’s game and I was wondering if you’d like to go?”  

Seriously dude?? We had a 10 minute conversation about my disdain for baseball and your disdain for country line dance which you compared to my disdain for baseball and you can’t remember that?  Clearly I have left an impression.   

It was late so I answered via text:

                Me:   I was the one that wasn’t too keen on baseball. Thanks anyway.

                Him:  Oh ok. Thanks.

                Me:  No problem. So just out of curiosity, are you having a hard time keeping all of the girls straight?

                Him: No, Smarty pants. Just was hoping not to go by myself.

                Me: I gotta be honest.  I have heard from you twice in 3 weeks and both times it was to find out if I would accompany you to a baseball game so you “didn’t have to go alone”.  Not incredibly flattering.

Him: Good point. Sorry but I normally go with my daughter and she has to get ready to go somewhere… (blah, blah, fucking blah).  I do remember now asking you before and not at the last minute and you did mention not liking baseball.  Good night.

                Me: Night

Him: You know the truth is I do have a lot of women that I see but when she said she couldn’t make it earlier today it didn’t cross my mind that I had invited you to another game. (Gee, thanks)  I just was interested in taking you to something that meant something to me and didn’t think. Guess that’s selfish of me. Not intentional to hurt you. Sorry.

Awww. Poor forgetful little martyr. Let's get down to nuts and bolts...

Me: It’s ok. The ball game thing isn’t a huge deal. I am just not the kind of woman that chases a man.  Call me old fashioned in that regard. I thought I saw something, interest in both of our parts during our appointment. So I pursued it, which I rarely do, and I don’t feel it’s very reciprocated.  Clearly you are busy, I get that.  But it’s one thing to be busy with work and volunteer stuff and quite another to be busy with a bunch of different women.  I don’t stand in line well and frankly, I don’t have to. 

And then he finally gets honest:

Him: I was interested up until I asked you if you smoke.

Now, I actually knew this and I have no problem with it.  I myself have certain standards (like not dating a guy with 9 other girlfriends) and I don’t fault others for having them too.  But I will tell you this: if and when I ever figure out how to quit this stupid habit, it will NOT be to get a man.  It will be for ME.  Furthermore, why didn’t he just say this during our original phone conversation?  Was he trying to keep his options open for a potential ballgame buddy?  It really chaps my ass that I am not good enough to date but I am good enough to be company to a ball game “so he doesn’t have to go alone” because his 27 other women don’t want to go with him either.   Nice, dude, real nice.

Me:  I guessed that.  Full disclosure is a lovely thing.

Him:  Never mind.  See ya Gina.

Me:  Or not.  

Admittedly that last comment was kind of a dick move on my part, but I had had enough.

Anyway, problem solved.  

The Quandary

I am in a quandary. This doesn’t happen very often as I am a relatively decisive person.  Maybe you guys can help me out?

A few weeks back, I met a guy while working.  We seemed to hit it off pretty well during the appointment and I thought there might be a connection there.  He is good looking, has a beautiful, clean home and he has a dog that he treats like a king (I like that in a guy).  During the appointment, we talked about relatively personal stuff.  He informed me that he had been married and his wife cheated on him two years ago and moved out.  He kept the house and in his spare time had added a sunroom, a pool house and a large covered patio – with his own two hands.  He said he builds things to relax.  (I like that in a guy too because (1) he is obviously good with his hands and (2) I require a relatively large amount of solitude and when I feel the need to be alone, I can say “You should go build something. Like a vanity or an armoire. You know, for ME.”). 

The pièce de résistance was when I walked into one of his spare rooms and saw a massage table. I stopped, turned to him and asked, “Do you have your own massage parlor?”  He responded with “No, my wife had back problems so I got certified in MASSAGE.” Hmmmm. 

During the appointment he was relatively complimentary (at one point he turned to me and said “You’re pretty smart.”  Yes. Yes I am and you must be pretty smart for seeing that).  Between the compliments and telling me that his wife was gone, I assumed that he was interested.  I also found out we have mutual friends, another bonus. 

The rules of my career are clear that there is to be no “impropriety,” perceived or otherwise, so I needed to complete my work for him prior to pursuing anything on a personal level (See?!? I am NOT a hooker), but I was pretty intrigued by this guy.  So I went home and thought of professional question to text him. I did and a texting conversation ensued.  More Hmmmm.

I completed my work in about a week and texted him to let him know that I was done. Another rather long texting conversation ensued in which he complimented my hair (which IS awesome, by the way).  “Ok” I thought, “this guy MUST be interested.”  He told me to contact him again after by upcoming trip and so I did.  This is where things get….confusing.

So he calls me and invites me to a professional baseball game on a Sunday.  “Oh, sorry, that’s my church day.”  Hahahahaha.   By now you all know that I don’t care for sports much but to prove it my ex-husband and I went to a professional ballgame many years ago and I was so bored I made him leave in the middle of the game.  I couldn’t even drink my way into fun with that.  The problem for me with baseball is the downtime.  The time spent between the plays is way too long; just get up there and hit the fucking ball.  You do not need to walk in a circle, hit the ground with your bat, adjust you balls and spit for 5 minutes prior to settling into your position to hit the fucking ball.  Why don’t you do that before you get up to bat so as not to waste my time?

Anyway, I told him I wasn’t really into baseball and that I would have to pass on the game.  (Let me just stop here and say that there are probably women out there that would have gone to the game, if only to spend time with this guy.  Those women don’t really like sports either, but would pretend to in order to get with a guy.  Those women are stupid.  I will never pretend to be someone I’m not to get a guy to like me.  What if you two hit it off?  You are now stuck going to ballgames together or you would need to “come clean” and tell him the truth, at which point he would feel duped.  The whole thing is a bad idea.)

O.K., back to our conversation:  after some more discussion about sports he states that he is pretty active in outdoorsy-type activities, kayaking, snowboarding and the like.  I would definitely try the kayaking (down a nice lazy creek, not that “white-water-hit-your-head-on-a-rock-and-die” kind) but I don’t do winter sports.  HOWEVER as a compromise, I AM willing to get dressed in the cute little ski-bunny outfit and wait for you by the bar in the chalet.  (See?? I can be flexible!)  He then asks me what I do for fun.  Let’s see….screw, write a funny blog, screw, read, screw… No seriously, my mind starts racing trying to think of something active that I do.  I couldn’t think of one thing.  I certainly couldn’t answer with “I’m pretty much a sedentary slug,” so I came up with dancing which I am trying to get back into by learning country line dancing (mostly because no one wants to see a 40-something woman hip hopping).  He said he feels the same way about line dancing as I do about baseball but that “the other two women I date both do that”.  Wait, what?

NOW the conversation is starting to get good.  I asked for further clarification of that statement and he stated that when his wife cheated and left- last summer- his friends set him up with different women, two of whom he currently dates.  For some reason I was under the impression that his divorce was two years ago (a good long time to get over THAT fucked-up situation) but came to find out it was last summer.  It’s a little close to my time frame of “one year after a divorce” that I will date a guy, but I might be able to get past that.  Boning two chicks and wanting to be thrown into the mix? Not so sure about that one.  Herein lays my quandary:

1.       I don’t do competition well.  It’s one of the reasons I don’t date married men.   How do I know that he isn’t thinking of one of the other ones while we are going at it? I mean, with three of us it would have to get confusing after a while.

2.       It’s not like I am looking for a serious committed relationship. Or maybe I am.  I don’t know.  As I’ve stated before, I have no intention of getting married again.  I am emotionally and financially secure (OK, financially anyway) and I’m not looking for someone to “take care of me” or anything like that. Furthermore, when things start getting really serious, I’ve been known to get scared and run.  So why should I have a problem with someone dating two other chicks along with me?

3.       Maybe it’s a control issue? If I am the only one, I have the control.  If there are 3 of us (this is starting to sound more and more like “Sister Wives”), and I have an upcoming event that I want him to attend with me; do I need to schedule it 4 months in advance to know that I get that date?  I’m not a great turn-taker. I want what I want and I want it now.

4.       Maybe it’s more of a time issue. He stated that one of them is “quite young” (what the fuck does that mean?? Great. Now I have to compete with a 25 year old??), and she lives south and comes up for entire weekends to hang out. I think I’d like someone that has more time than once a month but less than 5 times per week. (See?? I don’t know what the hell I want.) 

5.       I do like his honesty.  No punches pulled; just straight-out lay-it-on-the-line honesty.  Refreshing.

6.       He gives MASSAGES.

7.       He builds shit.  Like with hammers and saws and wood. 

8.       He is incredibly busy. Besides his full time job and dating, he volunteers with many organizations: from music to teaching winter sports to cleaning up highways for his company.  Volunteering is admirable.  Picking up used condoms and heroine needles from the side of a road is gross.

9.       He gives MASSAGES.

10.   It’s almost a challenge to show him my bag of tricks and see if he kicks the other two to the curb.  If he does, I win. But then what? I end up coming up with some stupid excuse to break it off and he’s alone again? Maybe I won't this time? And what if he doesn’t kick them to the curb? It would be a massive blow to my ego.  I don’t enjoy massive blows to my ego.  They piss me off.

 

 
Yes, I am over-thinking as usual.  It’s what I do.

So I’m turning the tables on you guys this week.  Usually it is I giving the advice (for lack of a better term).  This week it is me with the question: Should I go on a date with this guy and see what happens or should I just move on (move on to WHAT? I have no idea.)

 

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Don't Sell Yourself Short

Two of my male friends (one of which has been a good friend for many years and the other a more recent friend) are very open and honest about their perceived “inadequacies”.  In other words, they go around freely and openly telling the world they have small weenies.

I am all for full disclosure and I absolutely abhor lying.  Anyone who knows me well can attest to this fact.  Further, it would be ridiculous to tout a John-Holmes-size penis only to be discovered otherwise in the bedroom when the time comes.  I mean, there are some things you just can’t fake.   BUT, don’t kill your game before it even starts!

For example, I was out with a group of friends and (inevitably) the conversation turned to sex. During that conversation, my male friend basically stated for all my girlfriends to hear, that he is completely under-endowed. I just looked at him. Dude, you are your own cock-blocker!

Yes, in many of my blogs I joke around about wanting a big shlong (It's a girl thing; like men joking around about chicks with big boobs). But in reality I have been with men of all sizes and have been just as satisfied with both.  

 All of that being said, the following is my opinion on the whole tiny Johnson subject:

In a nutshell, sex is a sales game. I don’t necessarily mean “slimy used-car salesman” sales wherein you lie, cheat and steal your way into bed with someone (although there are definitely those that take this approach); but rather, a sales game in that you are selling yourself (Disclaimer: you are not actually going to get paid at the end of it - unless you have made pre-fuck arrangements). 

If you are looking for a one-nighter, you are selling yourself as a lover (“Baby, I can rock your world”).  If you are looking for a long-termer (Yes, that IS a word because I just used it in a sentence!), you might take a different approach (“Baby, I can rock your world AND make you a bangin’ omelet for breakfast in the morning”).  Either way, it’s pretty much all the same: you are selling yourself as a lover to get someone into bed with you. 

It’s almost like a job interview.  You wouldn’t walk into an interview and in the first 5 minutes state that you have a habit of being late every day (well, maybe you would but then you’d be an idiot: an unemployed idiot). The same goes with sex.  If I were hitting it off with a guy to which I clearly had a connection, and he said, “I am terrible in bed but wanna screw anyway?”  NO. No, I don't. But thanks for asking. 

Guys have the advantage of…well….clothing.  It is very difficult for a girl with an “A” cup to walk around telling everyone that she is a “D” cup.  It’s pretty damn obvious that she is full of shit. But guys, unless you are wearing a speedo (and I highly recommend against that), no one knows of your endowment - or lack thereof - until the time comes. 

So what does a guy do to sell himself in the bedroom without lying about his humongous dick? My suggestion is to work your other abilities into the flirty conversation as it becomes clearer that you will be ending the evening with a “big bang”.  For example, rather than “Let’s go back to my place, but I must warn you I have a tiny little pee-pee”, how about “Let’s go back to my place, but I must warn you that I LOVE giving cunnilingus”. Or, “Let’s go back to my place; I have an awesome toy that I am dying to use on you.”  (OK, I really feel the need to stop here for a moment and explain to you men that women typically do not like USED toys. I may have said this before but it is important.  Please have a nice selection of unused toys to choose from. Yes, they can be expensive but do you want to get laid or not?   If you get a lot of game, might I suggest a “Dildo of the Month” club?)

If you have confidence in your other bedroom abilities and you know it, you can still walk with your head held high and get laid regardless of the size of your organ.  Women love confidence. But let me be clear: if you boast about your other talents, you’d better have them because you can’t fake that either. Practice on some fruit or something; do a Google search on “how to perform cunnilingus”. (There is much to choose from but be warned: you will also get many porn sites doing that particular search and unless you remember what you are looking for, you will become distracted and have learned nothing sitting there with your dick in your hand).  You can also search “how to use a dildo on a chick”.  This is the information age, People! Stupidity is not a defense (and will not get you laid).

The point is, there are ways to overcome short-comings and disclosing them to an entire room of potential partners is not one of them.

I would love to hear from my readers on this subject.  As a girl, is it important that the guy be well-endowed? As a guy, if you are less-than-average in the penis department have you figured out a way to compensate for that? Did it work? I would love to hear anything else that anyone has to add about on this subject!

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Swingers

So I’m out having a couple of drinks with some friends one night to celebrate another friend’s return to our home state and we are laughing and dancing and having a grand old time when another “friend” (whom I shall call Dicky) decides to step into the “bitter barn” and starts bitching about his soon to be ex-wife.   I (being of sound mind and loose tongue) immediately blurt out, “doesn’t your chosen lifestyle lend itself to your wife leaving you?”  SCREEEEECH.

It kinda felt like one of those movies where they say something really loud and inappropriate right when the music stops and the entire bar turns and looks. Yeah. Like that. It seemed like even the people dry-humping in the corner stopped groping each other to stare at me in awe that I had actually kicked the guy when he was down. 

I looked around, “WHAT???”

Let me explain:  Dicky is a swinger.  I didn’t know this when Dicky friend requested me on Facebook.  I accepted Dicky’s friend request because we had graduated high school together and had many mutual friends.  I didn’t remember Dicky in high school but we had a very large graduating class and I was pretty much stoned for most of my high school career so it didn’t surprise me that I didn’t remember him.  It took me about a month to figure out what Dicky was up to (sometimes I am not too swift on the intake).

The first telling piece of information was all of the pictures Dicky kept posting of himself with beautiful (but trashy) looking blonds.  Now Dicky is not an Adonis. He is short and stout (Yes, like the little teapot) and a little pudgy and I could probably put him in my pocket if I didn’t wear my pants so tight.  So the fact that Dicky had been married for 20+ years and kept posting pictures of himself (and occasionally his wife), with blond bimbos was a little confusing at first. The second piece to the puzzle was that Dicky kept inviting me to numerous parties that he would have and he would have them A LOT.  Like more than once a week there were pictures of him at various skanky-looking soirées to which I had been invited (but thankfully did not attend).  

The last piece of the puzzle (and when the SWINGER marquee finally hit me upside my head) was when I began receiving friend requests from couples in far-off places (“Bob/Liz Smith from Texas want to be your friend.”  How many couples do you know that SHARE a Facebook page??)  After I denied the third couple’s request, l started wondering what the hell was going on and quickly realized that the only thing I had in common with these people was Dicky.   HELLO SWINGERS!

Now (obviously) I am no one to judge how people lead their sexual lives and I have been in a ménage or two in my time but it seems to me if you are in a long-term committed relationship and you are encouraging your spouse to fuck other people, you are playing with fire.  It’s a numbers game, idiot.   At some point in 20+ years, if your spouse is screwing numerous people, he or she is going to find someone that looks better than you, fucks better than you and reads the funnies on a Sunday morning better than you.   It’s pretty much inevitable.  It is the extremely rare case that whatever “special connection” you have with your spouse is the only “special connection” your spouse is going to have in a lifetime, especially when you throw sex into the mix. 

I have met guys that acted like they were the shit because they were “Oh-so-open-minded” to let their wives boink someone else and I come to find out it was purely out of selfish reasons.  They themselves were bored or horny or whatever and under the ruse of being open-minded, simply wanted permission to screw someone else too.  So while he was busy patting himself on the back for letting his wife screw that guy over there, his other hand was firmly planted in some other chick’s Hooha.  Nice.

Even if it isn’t for selfish reasons, and he isn’t looking to fool around with another girl (or guy), which I highly doubt, it’s probably not going to end well.  I speak from experience:

About 25 years ago, I was dating a guy in Florida that wanted to take me on a vacation to his friend’s house in the Keys.  The entire week prior to the vacation he kept telling me how good looking his friend was and how awesome his friend was and that if I wanted to have coitus with his friend he wouldn’t mind.  At first I thought this was some kind of a faithfulness test, so I was adamant that I wasn’t interested.  He kept insisting that he would be fine with it and he and his friend and he were very close and “shared everything” (like a stick of deodorant??).  I told him I understood his point but that I really wasn’t interested because I loved him.  The whole ride down he kept up his song and dance that he would be O.K. with it, should I change my mind.  We pull into the driveway and his shirtless friend comes out to greet us.   Holy. Shit.  Mind changed. 

I’m not really sure what my boyfriend had in mind, or why he was so insistent (looking back I think maybe he either wanted to see what his friend was packing or make his friend jealous of what he had every day), but I’m pretty sure things didn’t transpire the way they were supposed to in his mind. Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t been clear to set the boundaries or the scenario or the scene so that I knew what was OK and what wasn’t and a few nights into our short vacation, he and I got into an argument.  He was being a dick and ignoring me while I was trying to speak to him about whatever stupid disagreement we were having and so I got the shits of trying to talk to him and went to see what his friend was doing in his bedroom.  Needless to say, boyfriend got his wish. Or not.     

At some point my boyfriend actually came looking for me, saw what was going on, and turned around and left (personally, I took that as a “carry on”).  I am guessing by his reaction afterward that things didn’t go the way he thought they would because (wait for it….) he was PISSED.  Yep.  We all could have seen that coming. Needless to say, our relationship was never the same and he treated me as if I had cheated on him (and I treated him like the idiot that he was).  Moral: Be careful what you wish for, People.

How about this idea: If you want to screw other people, STAY SINGLE.  Trust me, it works.

I would like to hear other’s opinion on this subject.  Are you married and have you ever done or considered swinging? Do you know anyone that does and has it worked for them in the long-term?  As a single person would you consider getting involved with a married couple?

For more daily fun and interaction, join the “Antics of a Serial Dater” Facebook page.

Sheath Thy Sword, Kind Sir

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Cowboys and Indians

Have you ever felt that the universe is trying to send you a message?

Lately it seems that the universe is trying to tell me to date a cowboy. Cowboys are now trendy.  You now hear country music on pop stations, flannel is apparently the new black, and worst of all; last week, my favorite dance club went county. While I am not averse to dating a cowboy; it is a rather new concept for me.  Furthermore, I don’t eat dead mammals; that seems like it could be an issue.

Looking back at the westerns that I have watched over the years (admittedly, not many), whether the antagonist or the protagonist when it came to the stereotypical “cowboys vs. Indians” storyline, I would typically root for the Native American.  Even when the depiction of the Indians was of cruel savages I assumed they had good reason to be - having gotten the wrong end of the shaft- I overlooked their savagery and rooted for the cowboy’s demise (mostly because the Indians were half naked, hairless and hot, but I digress). Granted, I am a big “rooter for the underdog”.  I mean how fair is it that a cowboy simply sauntered into Oleson’s Mercantile (Little House in the Prairie throwback! Holla!), purchased his premanufactured gun and bullets and was hereby armed?  How lazy!  On the other hand, the Native American spent hours making their weapons (while shirtless, bronzed, and glistening in the sun) from the unused part of the animal they killed for food! I LOVE a man that recycles.  Furthermore, cowboys always looked filthy.  They were dirty and dusty, bearded from their long days in the woods or on the trail or wherever, and they needed a bath.  Native Americans looked quite clean with their hairless faces and chests and their shiny long black hair, freshly bathed from the local river… (Excuse me for a second, will you?).

Lately, however, due to the lack of Native American’s in Pennsylvania, I have been forced to see cowboys in somewhat of a new light.  As it is now “in” to be country, (and I am nothing if not trendy) is it as if the universe is cramming cowboys down my throat (heh, heh, heh).

It all started when my daughter turned country.  One day it was Lil Wayne and black eyeliner and shortly thereafter it was camouflage and Miranda Lambert.  My next stop in “countryville” was the University of Oklahoma.  Oklahoma seems to have an abundance of cowboys and while I looked high and low I did not see an Indian in the bunch (at least none that was readily apparent in fringed leather pants, hair feathers, and little else).  On a side note, although it has always been one of my fantasies, I have never had the opportunity to bed a Native American.  I imagine, in my mind, that it will be fucking phenomenal in a very organic kind of way with waterfalls, waving fields of grain and rhythmic guttural chants.  That being said and with my “it’s never too late attitude”, it is on my bucket list (or in this case: my Fuck-It list). 

Back to the cowboys:  If I am going to date one he can’t be a pseudo-cowboy (I draw the line at posers).  He needs to be a full-blow honkytonk, bareback ridin’ (uh huh) cowboy with a ranch, in full cowboy garb (minus the dirt, thank you very much).

As you all know by now, this important decision requires a pros and cons list:

Pros:

1.       Fresh eggs for breakfast.  
2.     I get to pet the pretty horsies (and if I grow a pair, I may even ride one).
3.     I get to see if it’s true that a cowboy only takes his hat off for sex.
4.     The thought of “wranglin” with a cowboy peaks my curiosity.
5.      I can yell “Ride ‘em, Cowboy!” and it actually means something.
6.      If he is a rich cowboy I can quit my job and twirl in fields of poppies (see blog dated January 2, 2012).

 Cons:

1.     Not only do I NOT eat dead mammals, I would probably befriend the animals on the farm and give them names only to find out that he has cut their throats and is eating them for dinner.
2.      Cowboys are renowned for being dirty and I don’t like dirty men (unless it’s minded).
3.       I need to be able to understand them and if they are too twang-y that might be an issue.
4.       I am not sure I can endure the hard-core country music songs that will make me want to shoot myself in the head with a 12 gauge (shut up, I’m sure I could figure it out).
5.       If I have to attend a rodeo with him I will probably feel sorry for the animals that are being treated cruelly and try to set them free. He might frown upon such action.
6.       I am guessing most cowboys do not allow the woman to wear the pants/chaps in the relationship. That might be a major issue.

Well, it seems to be even.  I guess if a hot cowboy came knocking on my door, I might try him on for size.  In the meantime, if any of you run into Tonto, have him call me. 

Ch...Ch...Ch...Changes

It’s been a few weeks since my daughter announced her college of choice.  Oklahoma.  Yes, the state. The one out west.  Way out there in the wild, wild west.  Oklahoma.  Where apparently,  the winds go sweepin’ down the plain.  Oklahoma is only 1292 miles away from our little town in Pennsylvania.  That’s it.  Only 1292 tiny little miles.

Oddly enough, I had been under the impression that the last few weeks have been typical with one exception: my neck has been rather immobile. This is not incredibly unusual as I oft have neck issues.  It’s either too much head -banging in my heavy metal days or too much head-giving for a lifetime. I am not sure which as I never had it looked into by the medical professionals.  Either way, I didn’t find it all that usual.  Until a friend pointed out to me that not only have I been pretty much a hermit for the past two weeks, I have barely been on Facebook (completely unheard of), I have not written a blog and my neck issues started when my daughter made her announcement.   I wonder if there is a correlation.

Like it or not, it appears that it will soon be time for my life to switch gears a bit.  As I have spent much of my time of late lying flat on my back (and not in a good way), I have had lots of time to think.  I have been contemplating what I am going to do when my daughter moves over 1000 miles away and I have started to make a list:  

 1.    Clean my house

2.    Intall new carpet

3.    Install a sex swing in my daughter’s old room

That’s all I got. 

Do not despair my friends, I have also considered what I do the second week. Well....more in the long term. I was thinking one of two things: I will either go back to my promiscuous ways or become a crazy cat lady, both of which involve pussy so that when I make my final decision my slogan should be relatively easy.

Strange Introductions

I know I haven’t written a blog in a while. It’s been a crazy couple of weeks which included a trip to a college in Oklahoma (more on that later, but I did learn that cowboys can be cute!). Just so you all know, I think of you often and dream of the day when I win the lottery and can stay home and write all day.  In the meantime, I will leave you with these introductions I received from a few guys on the dating sites (as always, copied verbatim):

 Apparently, this guy likes blue:

Love the BLUE Finger nail polish in photo 4 . Please dont get me wrong here , your very attractive ... but I like the Blue . Been out with some boring people from this Site . So tired of misrepresentations from people . Im not a Gem , but I am respectful and very good people . I guess I figure I dont misrepresent myself ... why should you . 3 meetings in the past 2 weeks . Nice people but just not anything like the presentation . As to the blue .... The most captivating things I find in a woman I approach . ...Eye contact , shape of mouth , and Hands . I love seeing a woman carry herself strongly and eye contact spells that clearly . The mouth , better said her lips ..her smile Great Stuff .. And her hands say alot about how she tends to herself and her expressions of herself . Dont care for nail biters AND Blue , my favorite color . Regardless if you ever write back ( and obviously Id like that ) Your beautiful , your profile was very nice and seemed genuine , and it would be my pleasure to get to know you .

Another one:

I was told once that you should never "need" another person in your life to be happy. That may be true. But there are moments in life meant to be shared with a special person with whom you can communicate without talking; a person whose touch chases away dark clouds of gloom and brings sunshine when the sun is not shining. I want to share simple things like coffee at the kitchen table on a Saturday morning when there is no place you need to go. To prepare meals together and talk and laugh and drink good red wine while you do it. Someone to collapse with on the sofa when the last guest at a party that we will all remember fondly has left. Do you like the smell of wood smoke in the fall when the leaves are changing color? How about the feel of a warm spring breeze on your bare arms after a long winter? Or the chemical reaction when summer sunshine plays on your body? Let's stop and experience these things together. Call me sensuous.   (I will call you sensuous or gay, one or the other – Gina)

And another:

I have blonde hair , deep green eyes, [Im not related to Freddy] 165 lbs and full of pressure, So im told..... I m easy get along with , very understanding, Love the outdoors and different types of music but mostly country. I Like motorcyclen,4x4s, Mustangss, long peaceful walks, bicyclen, Mines, caves, Of course the Juniata river and Raystownlake, amusementparks and all that good stuff. Always willn try new things. I ma hard workn man, Very affectionate! I live alone in my own house, My match: some one honest and careing , not afraid to be themself , down to earth and affectionate, Petite

Ok. That one just confuses me:

1. Is he signing his name as Petite?
2. I assume Freddy is someone from a movie that I have never seen. 
3.The fact that he is “full of pressure” doesn’t sound good in any way.
4. Mines collapse, Idiot. Look it up. (Oh, and speaking of looking things up…SPELLCHECK.)

And this last one had a picture of the guy holding a fencing sword toward the camera:

Looking to meet new people. No expectations, just a chance to get to know each other. Life is a journey and everyone we meet opens a world of possiblities. It is interesting to see the world through the eyes of someone else. I try not to have a plan and take each moment as it comes. If life is a ride, you might as well drive it like you stole it. True wealth is the experiences we have and the people we love. These are the treasures we carry inside. Let's enrich one another.    

It’s like he had a book of clichés and picked some out, mixed them in with some others and went with it.  At least he can (mostly) spell and punctuate.

Unfortunately, that’s it for now.  To my faithful followers, thanks for reading!

Hugs,

Gina