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?

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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

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?

...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.