Date file: The PhD

December 2018

I had had a good time with the traveling salesman, but he had now flown back home and who knew when or if I would see him again. Exhusband and I had already planned to be in separate places for the weekend, with him taking the kids and me going to an all girls Christmas party. Which meant I also had a lot of additional free time on my hands. So off to Bumble I went to see if anyone wanted to help me occupy my time.

I am a sapsiosexual. In case you don’t know what that is, it means I’m turned on by intelligence. I don’t care how hot a guy is, if he’s as dumb as a box of rocks, I can’t fuck him much less date him. Same goes for Republicans (sorry not sorry).

So when I come across the blonde haired blue-eyed PhD in mathmatics candidate at the premier university in my city, my heart beat started to speed up.

We match and immediately hit it off. To my suprise he wants to actually talk to me on the phone (people still do that??). So I give him my number and we chat and shamelessly flirst and he doesn’t keep me on the phone past half an hour because he says he wants to have more to talk to me about when he takes me out tomorrow.

The next day we meet at a Mexican restaurant that has a fancy rooftop bar and fabulous margaritas. I plan on heading to my girls Christmas party right after, so I’m a little extra festive looking. I have on a slouchy sparkly black sweater and bright red lipstick. As soon as I see him I feel tingly all over. I basically want to jump on him at the bar. We quickly drink two drinks each and keep inching closer and closer together. I admit that I a drunk and shouldn’t drive. We both agree that we are done being at the bar, so one of us (I honestly don’t remember who) suggests we go back to his place. We casually chat the whole way there in his car and while we walk across his apartment complex. His apartment is modest and giant textbooks litter the floor. He has one small string of Christmas lights around his patio door. I comment on his festive decorations and he leans in to kiss me.

And in less than 90 seconds we are both naked as jaybirds writhing on top of each other on his couch.

PhD: Bedroom?
Me: Yes, please.

This is the third man I sleep with post divorce. It is the first penis that is noticeably different than the others.

While I was married, I forgot that my husband was rather well endowed. He was the 10th man I slept with, so I had some experience with others, but not like I had seen a ton in person. And I figure porn is a poor representation because it’s primarily all fantasy anyway. I doubt they higher many porn stars with average pensises.

Anyway, I digress.

PhD is not as long, but boy does he make up for it in girth.

He makes my body do things I didn’t know it could do. I soak the sheets he makes me so wet. He comments on my vocalizations (they ALL do). We fuck so hard, we fuck the sheets completely off the bed. We go three rounds and eventually we realize it’s dark outside. My party started well over an hour and a half ago.

He looks to see if his face is covered in my lipstick. It’s not, but his neck has about 20 hickeys all over it. Oops.

He drives me back to my car, and kisses me until we have to pull away from each other. He asks when he can see me again. I tell him I have to look at my schedule, but I think I can see him in 4 days.

When I arrive at my party, it’s practically over. And I realize my sweater is on backwards.

Four days later he and I have been continuously texting back and forth. I’m trying to play it cool because I actually like him. I try to make sure he initiates the conversations to know that he is genuinely interested in me. When the day of potential sex arrives, I text to confirm we’re still going to meet up.

PhD: So… about that… I don’t know if I can
Me: Oh, did something come up?
PhD: No, I just… I know this sounds weird, but I kinda have a hard time being ok with random, unattached sex.
Me: Oh. Well… I literally just got divorced so….
PhD: Yeah, no, I know, I’m not asking for anything more but I just like… I think I need some more time before we do this again.
Me: But you want to fuck me again?
PhD: Yes, absolutely.

So we wait a litte longer. We continue to flirt and sext and generally keep each other updated about various on goings in our day to day lives. About a week later, he says he’s ready for another round. We look at our schedules and find a date and time. When the date arrives, I text him again asking where he wants to meet.

PhD: So, I’m really sorry, but I can’t do this.
Me: I thought you were cool now?
PhD: Yeah, but…. I just don’t think I’m that into you.

I feel heat wash over me and my face flush. I’m at work. I will not cry at work. I can think of almost nothing more embarrassing.

Me: You don’t even want to be fuck buddies?
PhD: You would still want to even after I told you I’m not that into you?
Me: I mean… we had great sex
PhD: Yes, we did…
Me: So maybe we can… you know what. No. It’s fine.
PhD: It’s fine?
Me: Yes. It’s fine. I’ve spent too much of my life trying to convince people to like me and if you don’t, then you don’t. So. Yeah. It’s fine. Thank you for your honesty.

And I go out to my car and cry.

Outcomes:
2nd date: No
Sex: Yes
Ghosting: No, but he essentially “broke up” with me, for lack of a better term

Date file: Zombie – Part 3

February/March 2019

So I move into my house on a Friday. I sleep with Der Alma Mater on Saturday. And, I shit you not, I am fired from my day job on Monday. Out of the blue.

I feel like the rug has been pulled out from under me.

I immediately start trying to get my house in order (literally and figuratively). I file for unemployment, find a low cost clinic to see to get my maintenance medications written, find a prescription club to buy those medications at a decent cost, and update my resume. I call my sister and tell her what happen. She’s shocked. I call my coworkers and tell them what happen. They are shocked. My whole world has been rocked.

The week goes by in a blur. I make plans to go visit my sister in NYC in a few weeks because what the fuck else am I going to do with my time. I continue to organize my new house and try to figure out how long I can live off my savings until I find a new job… or try to finally start my own business that I’ve been saying for a decade I would actually do.

Friday night rolls around and it’s the first time the kids will spend the night in my new place. I’ve worked all week trying to get their rooms organized enough where they won’t have to sleep in chaos. They manage to go down pretty quickly, and I just decide to watch TV alone in my living room, wondering what the fuck to do next.

Then I hear the WhatsApp notification.

Zombie: Hey beautiful, congrats on the house.

What fresh hell…. he’s unghosting me??

Me: Oh hey there stranger.

Zombie: How’s the new place?

Me: Oh it’s beautiful….. and I got fired on Monday.

Zombie:…. you did not. I am so sorry to hear that!

Me: Yeah well I think it’ll work out better in the end. Are you back in town?

Zombie: Yeah, just got back from Utah. I had the best time with my best friend! But I hate telling you that knowing your current situation…. I feel like an ass.

Me: Don’t feel bad for having a good time with your bestie because I’m having a shit time.

Zombie: Well, thanks but I still do. I think I need to make it up to you.

Me: Yeah? And what’s that look like?

Zombie: Well, how about starting with a hug and then deeply kissing you?

Me: Well, do you wanna come over?

Zombie: Tonight?!

Me: I mean, we’re clearly both awake. And I’m sorry I was a fucking basket case.

Zombie: Don’t apologize. I would love to see you. I’m sorry for just going silent. That was not fair to you.

Me: What happened?

Zombie: I’d rather explain in person….

So he comes over. He immediately starts kissing me and holding me tightly. I enjoy it for a moment then ask him what happened. He says that my whole situation was just too overwhelming for him. He didn’t know what to do and it was fucked up of him to just disappear and he was really sorry. I tell him that he can’t ghost me again. He says he won’t.

He’s concerned that there are kids in the house. I trained my children to sleep hard, and I just tell him that all parents have to fuck on the DL, we just need to keep quiet.

We go back to my room and can’t keep our hands off each other. We breathlessly tell one another that all we’ve been thinking about the past two weeks is fucking the other one, and as soon as we’re done with round 1, we lay there staring at the ceiling with goofy grins on both our faces. We talk about various other topics like his week skiing, my bullshit firing, and he hears me sing for the first time. He fills me in on his pregnant sister and how crazy his work has been lately. We drink wine and screw around some more. He tells me he wants to spend the night fucking me and have endless morning sex….. but I’ve got the kids.

Finally around 5 in the morning, he decides to leave. And 2 hours later, I’m woken up by my kids.

The next day he’s slated to see his best friend, but asks if he can see me Sunday or Monday. My sister has decided to come into town given how my life suddenly unraveled, so I’m occupied. We realized our schedules align for lunch on Thursday, so we make plans for that. Wednesday night rolls around and he tells me that his boss scheduled meetings back to back all day Thursday, so we’ll have to push to Friday. So that’s fine. We agree upon 11:30, and also agree to order in because we plan on being naked together the whole time. :::insert lots of witty sexual banter:::

Friday arrives. Around 10 AM, I text him to make sure 11:30 still works.

He reads it.

And looks at it.

And looks at it.

And looks at it.

And then, he’s gone.

His picture disappears. I send a text. One grey check mark. Sent, but not delivered.

I have been blocked.

Six weeks of talking, going out, sex, and general fun (8 weeks if you count the 2 weeks of silence) and he is gone. And not just gone. Blocked me on WhatsApp.

I text him from Hangouts, “did you just block me?! I thought we were cool now??”

I realize he’s also blocked me from IG… which like, I asked to follow him on several weeks back and he just never approved.

Fuck it hurts. It hurts SO MUCH. Why? Why did he do that? Why did he ghost, then reappear, and then disappear AGAIN?? And not just disappear, but BLOCK ME. What did I do wrong??

I feel erased.

I try SnapChatting him. He doesn’t approve my friend request. I deleted it after a day of being unanswered. A few weeks go by and I still think about him every day. I try FB messenger. But then I remember that I’m pretty sure he doesn’t really do FB, and it’s kinda wonky about letting strangers send you messages, so I delete that too.

Finally after a month, I unmatch from him on Bumble and Tinder. To my surprise, he didn’t do it to me, but I felt like I had to detach.

Two more weeks go by. I send another friend request via SnapChat. Never is approved.

I cry more over this weirdness than I did the demise of my divorce. I feel silly and stupid and wonder why this is so fucking painful. I wonder what I did to deserve this. Why I spooked him. Why I can’t stop thinking about him.

What the actual fuck.

I research online to try to provide some answers.

“What’s worse than ghosting? The new trend in online dating – zombies”

Holy fucking shit. That is totally what happened. He ghosted me, then came back from the dead, and now he’s gone again. But I still can’t get over that he BLOCKED ME.

“New cruel online dating move – cloaking. Pretending you never existed by blocking you on all your social media.”

I have a hard time accepting this. He was different. He made me feel things because he was empathetic and emotionally intelligent. I can’t wrap my brain around the fact that he would do something SO assinine and hurtful.

But it appears he did. And it appears I’ll never know why.

Outcomes:

2nd date: We saw each other several times

Sex: LOTS

Ghosting: Worse – Zombied and Cloaked.

Date file: Der Alma Mater

February 2019

I’m still trying to play the field. I’m not doing a great job at it.

Well… I guess it depends on how you define a good job at that. I can talk to anyone – I’m a great conversationalist if I do say so myself – so picking people up on Bumble/Tinder/Hinge and keeping a conversation going for longer than a few exchanges is super easy for me. People like talking to me for the most part. So I start talking to a guy who likes my profile description. We start out by talking about our favorite curse words. He seems witty and he seems to think I’m witty too.

After a few back and forth exchanges, we find out we actually went to high school together. He was a senior when I was a freshman, and we have no recollection of each other. I also find out that he’s bilingual… in German. Makes sense. He looks very stereotypic German (hell, so do I). Apparently his mother is from Germany and he lived there for a while.

He confesses he’s never done online dating before. It seems very backwards to him. I tell him it’s been 15 years for me, so this is all kinda new to me too. But because of this, he asks to talk to me on the phone. I’m a kid of the 90’s so of course I’m ok with this. We have easy conversations and they’re intellectually stimulating.

He’s well aware of my situation. He’s a kind ear when shit is hitting the fan. He asks when he can take me out, and I advise that we just wait until after I move out, because going out is proving to be more and more difficult (and let’s be honest, if I’m going out, I want to go out with Zombie).

Originally he says he’d like to take me out the weekend I move out. At first I say no – I will probably be too emotionally drained to want to be around anyone. But as the day comes closer, and the dread sets in, I realize the last thing I need to do is be alone that weekend. So I agree to get dinner and drinks with him on the Saturday night I move out.

That Saturday night rolls around and my mind has been in a million places the last 24 hours. At this point, Zombie has ghosted. No word from him in almost 10 days. I figure he’s gone for good.

Der Alma Mater shows up to my house and gives me a hug. I forget how tall he is (6’5″). He takes me to a German food restaurant, which I love, and he is pleasantly surprised by how authentic it is. We have a good time and have easy conversation. We then go to a bar down the street from my new house and drink – a lot. He goes in to kiss me while at the bar. I don’t stop him. He’s a good kisser.

We stay until last call, and we walk back to his car. He opens the door for me to get in, just like he’s done all night. I can’t remember the last time a man did that for me each and every time I got in their car, be he did.

He drives me the half mile back to my place. I realize it’s past two in the morning, we’ve both had a lot to drink, and he lives almost an hour from me. I feel like a dick if I send him home, so I invite him in.

We have decent sex, but its only as good as it can be being completely wasted. We go to sleep and freeze because it’s still February and I don’t know how to work my damn new AC/Heater. In the morning he wakes me up and I have morning sex for the first time in I can’t remember when.

It’s amazing.

We try a position I’ve never been able to do before I guess due to the way exHusband and I would fit together, but it hits just the right spot and I orgasm again, and again, and again. We fall asleep again for another hour or so, then finally get up and get dressed to grab some brunch. He buys and we just kinda chill. He takes me back home afterward, kisses me goodbye, and leaves.

Hm. That was pleasant.

We go out a couple weeks later, and then one more time. We don’t do anything especially interesting. Getting food. Talking. Fucking. Watch TV.

And here we are… almost in May. We still chat from time to time. He wants to take me out again.

And while I enjoy his company, and he’s nice…. I feel no real spark.

I need to tell him. I’m not sure how. I hate this part of dating. I don’t like being the bad guy, especially if no one’s been a dick. He hasn’t done anything wrong. He’s kind and considerate and pretty chill. I just don’t find myself getting butterflies when he texts me. At this point, because I know what I need to do and haven’t brought myself to do it, I just feel dread when he texts me, and that’s through no fault of his own. It’s due to my own cowardice.

And it’s not fair to him. But I need to do this. Soon.

Outcomes:

2nd Date: Yes, 3, actually

Sex: Yes, pretty good sex too.

Ghosted: No, but I have to end this soon.

Look at my dead fish

Ok guys, let’s have a discussion about your dating profile pictures.

So. Many. Problems.

I’m going to list a few problems that I notice, in no particular order, of things that seem to be prolific in the online dating profiles.

  1. Dead fish – wtf, guys. I know you are super proud of your “big catch.” It is not a metaphor for you being able to catch women. It’s just you with a big dead fish. IDGAF about it. If you’re using that to impress people, we women folk do not care. Maybe other dudes out there think your ability to catch a fish is fuckin’ sweet, but I’m pretty sure you’re trying to get WOMEN. So stop with all those goddamn dead fish.
  2. Dead deer – see above. Apply to deer.
  3. Nothing but group photos – ESPECIALLY as the first one. I do not want to have to dig through all your photos to try to figure out who the same face is in all the photos. Automatic swipe left if you make me work too hard to figure out what you fucking look like.
  4. Gym selfies – you just look like a douche, man. I’d rather you put a hot pic of yourself in a nice suit or if you HAVE to show some skin, you out at the pool with friends or something.
  5. Only photos with you wearing sunglasses/hats – Your eyes are super important. If I can’t see them, that’s going to vastly impact how hot I think you are (or not). Also, if you only post pictures of you in hats/your head covered, I’m going to assume you’re hiding your balding head. Swipe left (not because bald, bc you are insecure about it).
  6. You getting shitfaced – bc I’m a grown ass woman, and posting drunk pictures of yourself stopped being cool in 2005. Sorry you missed that memo.
  7. Golfing – I don’t care about your alignment or your golf swing or any of that shit. Your body is contorted so I can’t really tell what’s going on anyway. If you really want me to know you like golf, put it in your profile blurb.
  8. Landscapes… without you in them – so you went on vacation recently. Cool story, bro. But if I really want to see a picture of a sunset, I’ll Google that shit. I want to see YOU.
  9. One picture only – especially if it’s only of your chest. Or worst, something other random-ass picture that has nothing to do with your physical appearance.
  10. Pictures with no smiles – bc I don’t want to go out with Debbie Downers. It doesn’t make you look cool, it just makes you look like an asshole.

So please don’t do these things. Please primarily post pics of you smiling, alone, in a variety of settings, some of which include a full body shot, and don’t have your eyes or head totally obscured. If you’re a decent looking dude, and you’re not getting great matches, it may just be because your pics suck. You don’t suck, but we’re visual, and if your pictures are garbage, girls are gonna think you’re garbage too. Right, wrong, or indifferent.

Date file: The Zombie – Part 2

January/February 2019

So if you’ll recall, I had left my house under false pretenses of going to the drugstore to get something for my aching throat when in actuality I left to go fuck Zombie.

I wake up the next morning and instantly know I have strep.

Me: Please don’t hate me.

Him: Why would I hate you?!

Me: I gave you strep.

Him: nooooooooo. Well I haven’t had strep in years…. although we were going at it pretty hard and heavy last night.

The next day he has strep. The rest of the week is lost to us being ill. He gets a respiratory infection on top of the strep so he’s more of a mess than I am and ends up being sick well into the following week. We still chat the whole time and make each other hot and laugh, but we agree to rest and recover until we need it.

At the end of the following week, he tells me he’ll be going to Colorado to visit his family for his sister’s baby shower. He wants to see me before he leaves. I happily find an excuse to be gone for the evening from my house and make my way over to his apartment. It’s a mess (because he’s been so sick) and he apologizes. At least I know he has been legit sick this whole week plus the previous week. I have a problem trusting people, especially men, given how much they’ve lied to me in my life. But he’s still slightly congested and has other evidence of being under the weather.

We drink wine and fuck and watch TV and talk about whatever. Eventually I realize I need to go home and he tells me he’ll let me know when he arrived in Colorado, as he will be driving. He does so and then sends me pictures of him and his baby niece playing together, pictures of dinner he’s made, and just generally telling me about how awesome it was to be at the shower and watch his sister cry. It’s regular life and he’s charming and sweet and I feel more feelings that I’m unprepared to feel.

I ask when he’s going to be back and he says he’s going to stay a little longer because his other sister is ill and has asked their mom to watch the baby, so he’s going to stay and help out. Bummer, I was looking forward to him coming back. He asks what my schedule looks like because he’ll try to adjust his flight to work with my craziness.

Me: You’ll change your flight to see me?

Him: Yes! At least I’ll try to!

He ends up staying the whole week in Colorado. It sucks, but at the same time, I respect him wanting to help his family. During that time we keep chatting, and I confess that I really like him and that really freaks me out. He says he likes me too, and we can take things as slow as I need to given my situation.

Cue more feelings.

As February progresses, it’s getting closer to time for me to move out of my house. Which also means it’s almost time to tell our children that we are divorcing and mommy is moving to a different house. I confide in Zombie how I’m dreading it, and it’s totally overwhelming for me. He tries to be supportive, but after he returns from Colorado, he’s had to go into the office and has become less responsive. As my situation intensifies, he gets less responsive. Some days we don’t speak at all, but other days we text for hours.

The day before Valentines, we’re supposed to see each other. A kid I work with makes me a Valentine and I send him a picture of it. He says, “1) that’s adorable 2) back off, kid, that’s my hot mom.”

I kill time that evening waiting for him to tell me when he’s done with work… and the text never comes. At this point, I’m very frustrated. He’s become less responsive and I don’t know what’s going on. My life is spiraling out of control. We continue the rest of that week with very little communication and by the end of the weekend I call him out on pulling away.

He insists that he’s just been busy.

“Yeah ok, but I can see when you check my WhatsApp messages…. or worse, when I see you using the app, but you’re purposefully ignoring my messages.”

And he ignores that. I’m crushed.

The next day, I rally and say, “look, I know I sound clingy, and my life is just a big fucking mess right now, and if I didn’t fuck everything up beyond all repair, hit me up at the end of next week once I’ve moved in and you come back from your ski trip with your best friend.”

And I’m still met with silence. I think that I will never hear from him again, and I ran him off… I turned him into a ghost.

But apparently I was wrong….

Date file: Detroit

January 2019

Things were getting way too real, way too fast with the insurance guy (Zombie). I’m not ready for this. I need to slow this train down.

Enter Detroit. A guy who was from… well, Detroit. He was nice enough. My company I worked for at the time happened to be HQ’d in Detroit, and I had been up there recently. He was nice enough, very complimentary, and made me laugh. We had about the same level of cursing, and chatted easily throughout the day. I was very preoccupied with Zombie, but I was trying to keep my options open. After all, I had been divorced for less than a month and should not be getting feelings for anyone. I wasn’t going to do that to myself.

So one day I decided to go ahead and go on a date with Detroit. We met at a bar, he bought me my drinks, we had a good enough time. He was cute, and was definitely feeling me. At one point in the conversation, I brought up that one of my coworkers had said that Detroit was like “Chicago’s little bother.”

Holy. Shit. You would have thought I called his baby ugly.

He became irrationally angry, viscerally so. I’m a nervous laugher, so I laughed at him at first, thinking he was putting on a show.

He was not.

Once he calmed down, I thought, “well that was weird.” But left it at that because I had a mission – distract myself from Zombie. So we continued to chat, I continued to drink, and soon I felt warm and fuzzy and the lines of things around me began to blur. He had regained his composure to be charming again and invited me back to his place for me to sober up (ok, yeah, whatever).

So we ended up sleeping together – shocking, I know.

The sex wasn’t bad. Not bad at all.

But all I did was think about Zombie. And how I wish it was him I was with and not this dude that had so much irrational pride for a city that he no longer lived in.

I sobered up and went home. On the drive home, I found myself feeling guilty for sleeping with someone else. Guilt is not an emotion I typically entertain. Why do I feel like this? We’ve not had any discussions about being exclusive. I’ve only slept with him a few times. More importantly, I just got divorced. I’m not ready for anything serious. I need to play the field.

But I find myself not wanting to.

I chat with Detroit a few more times over the next week or two. I slowly become less responsive, and he becomes less proactive. I find myself being rubbed more the wrong way the more I think about his outburst and anger concerning a city. And eventually he just fades away.

Outcomes:

2nd date: No

Sex: Yes… but I was thinking about Zombie the whole time.

Ghosting: No. Just a natural fade out.

I’m not an idiot

Ok, soap box moment:

Y’all. I’m not an idiot.

When you unmatch me and tell me you deleted the app…. no bro, that looks different.

When you say you stayed home last night, but when I look you up on Tinder/Bumble your location is way different from where I know you live…. naw, you weren’t just Netflixing and chilling.

Here’s the thing about online dating: unless you make very specific moves, those apps let me keep tabs on your shit. And if you don’t know that they do that, you’re the idiot, not me. Stop with your bullshit. I see your lies.

Here’s what rubs me the wrong way about it. IDGAF if you’re fucking other people unless we’ve had some serious discussions. I’m fucking other people. This is the culture we live in right now. But if you lie to me about what you’re doing, you’re just fucking shady.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t want to HEAR about you fucking other women. Make it vague. “I went out with a friend last night” is way better than “I didn’t go out last night” and I can fact check that shit. THAT is what makes me angry.

When you delete Bumble, your profile goes grey and our conversation remains. Your profile doesn’t fucking disappear. That happens if you straight up unmatch. So don’t tell me you decided to just “delete the app for a while.” Or worse, “baby, I like you so much I decided I don’t need that anymore.”

Oh bull-fucking-shit.

You don’t even know my last name, why would you delete the whole goddamn app? Again, I’m not an idiot.

You wanna lose me as a prospect? Lie to me. Bc here’s the thing – when I lie, it’s to people I know I don’t see a future with. There’s a place for them. But when you do it to me, I know where I stand with you too. So be aware of what that means, and don’t get salty when I pull away.

The internet is too easy and your bullshit is too public for you to lie for long and get away with it. Because I’m not an idiot, and I’ll dig up dirt on you faster than you ever believed. Save us both the bullshit, and just be honest. Or quit wasting my fuckin’ time.

End rant.