Table for One

Do you know what I can’t stand (other than bigots and bad grammar)?  Whiny single people. What’s worse than that? That would be whiny single people on Valentine’s Day.

I am single. I am single by choice.  Maybe it’s because I refuse to settle for the wrong person just to have someone, or perhaps I find compromising a pain in my ass; but either way, it’s my choice. I truly don’t understand people that find their self-worth in having a boy/girlfriend.  If someone is desperate to have someone on Valentine’s Day then they should go ahead and settle for someone with whom they have nothing in common, someone who hogs the remote control or a loser that treats them like shit - and have a wonderfully romantic day!

As with most things in life, you have two options: Feel sorry for yourself for the hand that this big, mean world has dealt you; or, see yourself as an intelligent, independent happy person and TREAT YOURSELF for Valentine’s Day. 

Here’s how:

First, understand that Valentine’s Day is basically a Hallmark holiday.  If someone doesn’t show their sig-other how much they care about them on a daily basis, they are an idiot and don’t deserve to have a sig-other.  That being said, I like chocolate.

Second, decorate your home with hearts and flowers for February, regardless of whether you have someone in my life or not.  Don’t see it as a glaring reminder that you are single, but a wonderful reminder that you are loved by your parents, siblings, kids, your friends and yes, even your pets.  Show those people that love you when you are at your worst that you love and appreciate them for it. Make them little treats, buy or make them a card, or just tell them that you love and appreciate them.  Valentine’s Day does not have to be just about lovers but just about love.

Most importantly, love yourself first (I don’t mean in the physical sense but if that makes you happy when you wake up in the morning, go for it). We have all heard it a million times and it’s true: you will never find someone to love you if you don’t love you.  Every year on Valentine’s Day I do something special for myself.  Last year it was a massage and it was probably one of the best Valentine’s Days I have ever had (remember, there are nearly always openings at the salon on this day because all of the attached people are out to dinner or whatever).  I had an awesome massage late in the day then went home all warm and mushy, had a glass of wine and a nice dinner, read a great book and relaxed for the evening. I didn’t have to argue with myself about what to watch on TV and I was not disappointed in the least in the gift I had received. 

This year - this evening - I am getting a facial (insert dirty joke here and see footnote on facials). I scheduled it months ago and have been looking forward to it ever since.  Again, Valentine’s Day doesn’t have to be a reminder that you are single, but more a reminder that you are loved and that you love youself.  

And now for my advice to men for the day:

Whenever I tell certain friends that I am scheduled for a facial, they giggle. Of course they are thinking of the dirty sense of the word.  I typically giggle too because most of the time I have the sense of humor of a 17 year-old boy; however, I am here to tell you men the truth: women don’t enjoy your kind of facials. If you have been with a woman that told you she did, she lies.  She is trying to look either cool or freaky in bed but either way, she lied to you. If you are a guy and you are into that kind of thing, you really should date a porn star. Porn stars don’t like it either but they don’t really have much of a choice if they want to get paid.  Your girlfriend/wife can thank me now.

 Have a great Valentine’s Day everyone, particularly if you are single!

Last Saturday Night Was Wild

Last week I did something that I have not done in a really long time.  I don’t feel bad about it.  Why should I? I am a single, adult woman.  I work hard, take my responsibilities seriously and rarely do anything for myself.  I decided that it was time to do something for ME.  Here’s how it went.…

It was Saturday night and I was restless.  I had not been out in a really long time and I’ve had little contact with the opposite sex of late. I needed a change in a bad way.

I don’t know what hit me but I was lying on my bed reading a book and I looked at the clock. Nine o’clock on a Saturday night and I am home alone reading?? What the hell is wrong with me? So I jumped out of bed and threw open my closet doors with purpose.  I start flinging clothing onto my bed like closet-vomit until I found the perfect outfit.  Small, comfortable, displayed the parts I wanted to display and hid the parts I didn’t.  Satisfied, I walked out.

I chose a place I hadn’t been to in as long as I could remember.   The last time I was there it hadn’t ended well and I left disappointed.  I knew that would NOT be the case on this night.  I admit I did open the door a little tentatively; but I put on a brave face and ventured inside.  The place smelled a little funny.  Pungent, a little like incense and a little like a kind of cheese that I couldn’t put a name to.  I assumed it was all the dinners they serve and decided to ignore it.  Eventually I got used to it and couldn’t smell it at all.

I started to relax and finished my beverage while I looked around the place and took in the sights when I decided to go outside for a smoke.   I hesitated, perhaps for a bit too long, when I spotted what would eventually be my trouble of the night. The first thing that popped into my head was “a cool drink of water”.  I don’t know why, but it did.

I was a little taken aback.  The entire thing was fast and furious and completely unexpected - particularly in that place.  But, I wasn’t complaining and I wasn’t looking back!

By the end of the night, after the sweating and the grunting, the rubbing and the caressing, the dirty talk and the sweet talk, I was completely satisfied and happy! I didn’t regret what I had done, didn’t care what people thought!  I smiled as I looked back over my shining clean refrigerator, complimented myself on a job well done, shut the door and went to bed.  I had even killed an hour. 

I’ve said it before and I will say it again: I like to live my life with no regrets.

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. 

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

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