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.


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.

Date file: The Zombie – Part 1

January 2019

After I came back from Colorado and I entered the new year, I started talking to a guy on Bumble. At the time I was working for a healthcare company, and as we were getting to know each other, we started talking about our jobs. He asked me how my day was.
Me: Ugh, I work in healthcare and it’s the beginning of a new year, which means new insurance plans, and none of this fucking insurances want to cover the services we provide.
Him: Hm, well this is awkward.
Me: Why?
Him: I write all of the insurance plans for XYZ Insurance Company for our state.

Cue awkward laughter.

He happens to be leaving to go out of town for a bachelor party trip, but says he wants to meet for drinks when he comes back. We continue to chat and he seems funny and charming. When he returns, we plan to go to a local gastropub after work. I have my contracting job that evening, so I figure if it goes poorly, I can always excuse myself to go do that.

It does not go poorly. It goes exceedingly well.

We have instant insane chemistry and laugh and drink and talk about a range of topics. We people watch and talk about our families and eventually I can tell he’s staring at my lips. I lean closer towards him and he kisses me.


We keep drinking and chatting and occasionally going in for a kiss. I realize my time is slipping away and I need to sober up so I can do my job. He convinces me to cancel one of my client sessions, but I can’t cancel all of them. I managed to buy myself another 2 hours, and we fill it to the brink. He pays for our tab and offers to drive me to my car because I somehow managed to park on the opposite side of the earth. When we get to my car, I realize I still have about 20 minutes before I need to head home. I gleefully tell him I’m glad I get to make out with him more and go for another kiss.

Soon we are all over each other in the front seat of his car. He’s pulling down my panties and sliding his hand inside me. His lips are all over my neck and my hands find his erection through his jeans. I climb on top of him and we continue to make out heavily and finally pull away from each other to check the time.

Him: Holy shit.
Me: Yeah.
Him: You have to go, don’t you?
Me: Yeah.
Him: Ok, but when do I get to see you again?

So we talk some logistics and realize I can stop by the next day because I have to be out in the field for my day job near his apartment (he works from home).

On my way home he texts me: I was not expecting that. At all. I was not expecting you.

The next day, I do my day job duties and call him up to see if he’s ready for me to come by at lunchtime. He buzzes me up, and hardly before we can close the door we’re starting to rip each others’ clothes off.

And then I have the best sex of my life.

After two rounds, I tell him I have to go back to work. He walks me downstairs and kisses me goodbye. The rest of the afternoon is a blur. I feel high. We continue to text and sext for another several days.

He asks when he can take me to dinner. We managed to make a plan one of my “nights off” and I get ready. As I’m finishing my makeup I get a text.

Him: My best friend and his fiance just got into a car accident.
Me: What?! Are they ok?
Him: I don’t know… they’re being taken to a hospital. I am so, so sorry, but I’m going to have to raincheck tonight.

Well, damn.

He keeps chatting with me throughout the evening. I send him a picture of my oufit and he can’t be complimentary enough. I give myself a date night by going to a late night pedicure place (Which, why is that not more of a thing?! Brilliant business plan), and get tipsy on the free wine. We sext throughout the evening, and he keeps giving me updates on his friends. He continually profusely apologizes for the cancellation and says he wants to make it up to me.

Two nights later, my exHusband pulls an incredibly fucked up stunt. I won’t go into details, bc it’s a long story, but it makes me enraged enough that I text him and ask if I can come over.

Him: Right now?
Me: Yup, I’m fucking furious and don’t want to be here. I’d rather be with you.
Him: Yeah, come on!

I tell exHusband I’m running to the pharamcy because my throat hurts (true, but I don’t plan to come back). Then I take off for his place.

When I arrive we don’t even get our clothes off before we start fucking on his countertop in his kitchen. We decide to move to the bedroom and just as we’re about to resume, his phone rings.

Him: Fuck. I have to get this. I’m so sorry.

It’s his pregnant sister having a big ol’ pregnant lady meltdown. He calmly talks her away from the crazy edge and keeps mouthing to me that he’s sorry. I tell him it’s fine and start to blow him while he’s on the phone. He can barely keep it together.

Once he gets off the phone he apologizes again. I tell him not to… it’s hot that he cares that much about his sister that he would stop sex to make sure that she’s ok. Means he’s clearly got empathy and care for others over himself.

We only stop fucking after our bodies are too sore to continue. We lay in his bed and watch the Office and Comedians in Cars Getting Coffee and laugh while our bodies are entangled together.

He gets up, looks at me in the eyes in a different way and kisses me softly. A wave of unexpected emotion comes over me, and I make a face.

Him: What are you thinking?
Me: Hm?
Him: I see that face. What are you thinking?
Me: I just… haven’t been kissed like that in a very, very long time.

And then I think…. Oh fuck. What am I getting into?

Date file: the Lumberjack

December 2018

After my divorce had finalized, I decided to take a trip with my children to Colorado. It’s a special place for us, and they hadn’t sen real snow. I also went along with my father and step mother.

We only went for a few days, and prior to going, I started chatting with someone on Bumble who I would later dub the Lumberjack. This is because he had a thick blonde beard, and when I first started talking to him, he was on his family’s ranch out in the middle of butt-fuck nowhere. One day, he sent me a picture of him chopping wood… ……shirtless. He looked like fucking Adonis. But he never shows his face. Odd. I call him out on it.

Me: Why no face?
Lumberjack: I had a crazy ex who tried to use all our sexting pictures to blackmail me. I’m very cautious with showing my face now.
Me: But you have a Bumble?
Lumberjack: Yes, but I don’t show any other body parts except my face.
Me: Hmm, what’s your last name.
Lumberjack: Peters
Me: ::::after my best internet stalking::: you don’t do any social media?
Lumberjack: Nope. I’m telling you, crazy ex.

So I’m cautious, but we continue to chat for the remainder of his trip to see his family, and very quickly our exchanges went from casual “so what do you like to do for fun?” to “what’s your favorite position?”

Right as he was set to come back to the city, I was going to be traveling up to CO. We decide to switch over to SnapChat as I have virtually no reception when I go to CO. Plus, now we could start exchanging hotter pictures knowing the other one couldn’t do anything with them.

Holy shit did that dude have some sexting game.

We had steamy conversations night after night, making each other cum over the interwebs. A day or two before leaving to come back home, he asked me if I had been seeing anyone regularly in the city. I told him I hadn’t. He said that he would like to “audition for the role” if I would be willing to do so.

I had been very clear up to that point that I was only looking for fun, casual sex as I didn’t think I could handle any type of real relationship. So I was a little surprised that he was asking me out on a legitmate date, but I was quite flattered because he was gorgeous and I really did enjoy talking to him (even outside of the hot sexting).

We started planning out night out. What day/time was best… always left it up to me as I had children and a complicated living situation. We agreed to a night out. I came back home, and then suddenly he stopped responding. The night of our planned date came and went and I heard nothing, so I didn’t bother to show up. At this point we had talked for almost 3 weeks and it just puttered out a few days before.

What the fuck?

Then the next day, he hits me up on SnapChat

Me: Oh, hey. Where have you been?
Lumberjack: I had to go to Seattle for work
Me: Ok, why didn’t you tell me?
Lumberjack: I’m really sorry, it was just last minute. I know I missed our date.
Me: Yeah, you did.
Lumberjack: I still really want to take you out.
Me: You do, huh.
Lumberjack: Yes.
Me: And what’s the percent chance I will actually see you?
Lumberjack: 95% chance – like, giant asteroid will have to hit the earth to prevent me from seeing you. Does Friday work?

So I hesistantly agree. At this point, I’ve started talking to someone else (who eventually fucks me over, hard), so I’m not sure how I feel about this. I’m cautiouly optomistic.

We continue to chat, not quite as heavily as we did before… and then as Friday gets closer, he becomes more and more distant.

And then Friday comes… and there’s no communication. I look for him on Bumble, and realize he unmatched me. Not deleted the app – unmatched me . I do not go on our date.

And I never hear from him again.

Fast forward to March.

I decide I’m going to start doing IG. I know I’m late to the party, so fuck off. Anyhow, it recommends people I should follow based on my contact list. Lo and behold, there’s Lumberjack. He’s posted a few things (one picture he had sent to me), but there’s less than 5 photos.

I look at the people he’s following on IG. There’s only about 10 – one of them happens to be a blonde bearded dude in Italy. And I realize those are all the pictures he used for his Bumble account. The ones he sent to me personally were on his IG, but they were not of his face. Only his body.

So who knows. Maybe he was totally full of shit. Maybe he used that dude’s face because they sorta looked alike but he didn’t have to put his own face out there.

But I stil haven’t heard from him, and I have no idea what happened.

2nd date? No, not even a first date!
Sex? No
Ghosting? Yes

Note: the pictures at the stop are Snapchat, one of which he actually posted to his IG. So… I’mma keep believing that smokehouse wanted in my pants at least for a little while.

I’m the kinda girl who kisses (and more) on the first date

Y’all. Being an adult rocks. In case you are younger and thinking, “I don’t want to adult!”…..

Yes, child, yes you do. You just don’t know it yet.

Yeah, adulting includes alarm clocks, and bills, and chores. But you know what, it also includes doing whatever TF you want and as long as you’re not hurting yourself or anyone else, power to ya. Including giving zero fucks about what others think about your sexual partners – who they are or how many there are or what you’re doing with them.

When you’re younger, it’s pretty damn easy for word to get around about who’s “easy” and who’s not. Your dating pool is pretty much restricted to your school or your extra curricular activities, and those are pretty small populations in the grand scheme of things. And people can’t keep their damn traps shut about other peoples’ business.

But as an adult? No one fucking cares. And there are SO MANY of us… unless you are still picking your sex partners from your small group of friends (which, awkward, don’t do that), the likelihood of people knowing who you are or aren’t hooking up with is slim to none.

Here’s the other thing, folks: as an adult (and especially as a parent), I do not have time to fuck around (literally and figuratively) with people who are bad at sex. I will give you two tries. Because fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, shame on me.

I kid!


But seriously, maybe the first time you have jitters or you weren’t psyched up appropriately for it or whatever. Unless it is just TRULY terrible, I’ll give you another shot.

But if we go for another attempt and you still can’t get your Johnson to get up to bat…. sorry, bub, thanks for playing, best of luck to you.

Because here’s the thing – I don’t want to get heavily emotionally invested in someone who can’t crank my motor. So I wanna know from the get-go if we’re sexually compatible.

Now, to be fair, my ex-husband was a virgin when we met (WHICH HE LIED ABOUT! More on that later…), and we ended up being fine, for the most part. I never had a problem, he never had a problem, and if we did, it was just an off day, not an off component of us as a couple.

But as someone older, who knows what she wants, I ain’t got time to be teaching you how to make me scream. You can start out as average, even kinda weak, but if you can’t improve your game over time, let’s not drag this out. Because whether our sexually repressive society wants to admit it or not, sex is a HUGE part of successful relationships and they’re an important part to the human existence.

So if you get laid on our first date, that doesn’t make you a stud, or make me easy – I’m just practical, and I know I wanna take a test drive before I buy.

Date file: The little guy

December 2018, January and March 2019

At this point I’d slept with two people: EB and Traveling Salesman. Neither lived in the area, but I was feeling randy and didn’t want to be around recently ex-husband. You see, I couldn’t move out until I knew what I would be awarded in the divorce. So I needed to wait until we drafted up the decree and got it pushed through the courts until I could officially decide what I could afford. I ended up getting our rental property in the agreement, which made me eligible to buy my own modest house. But until I found that property, I had no where to go. Sure, I could have moved in with my dad or mom for a month or so until I found a place, but we wanted to make this as smooth as possible for our three children, so I wanted as little transitions as possible so as not to worry them. So we decided I would continue to live in our marital home until I had a place lined up for myself… and we would tell them I was moving out about a week before I set to leave.

Little did I know that month or so would turn into 8 weeks and be the WORST 8 weeks of my life.

So back to the night that I wanted to catch some D. It was my “night out” (this is how we decided to get space from each other… we designed nights that each of us were allowed to go out while the other stayed home with the sleeping kids). I was out at a bar by myself, pretty much so I just didn’t have to be around exHusband. I started swiping on Tinder and found a guy who put no face in his pictures, but had a hot body. Whatever, we’ll see what happens.

Oh. We matched. Well, alright then.

He messages me and asks what I’m doing. I tell him frankly nothing, but I’m out at a bar. We realized we’re only a couple miles apart so he tells me to come to this dive bar he’s at.

Dude, while you may have a hot body, I’ve literally never seen your face. I need something that proves you’re not a total male butterface. I don’t even know his name bc he used what was clearly an alias on Tinder. He sends me a picture of himself at the bar and says his name is Scott. Meh, seems cute enough, so wth.

I meet him at the dive bar and there’s all kinds of interesting characters. I grab the empty seat next to him and there’s an older lady on the other side of me who starts talking to us immediately. She introduces herself, and I give her my name, and my date says, “Hi, I’m Matt.”

Wtf. You definitely told me your name is Scott. I give him side eye. He gives me a look too.

She starts asking about the nature of our relationship. We make up some bullshit. Eventually after a few minutes of talking, she says she’s gonna go smoke outside real quick and asks to hold her seat. Sure, fine.

As soon as she leaves, he says, “So, my name is Matt. But, I go by Scott. I run a very large company in the area and I don’t want anyone I do business with to know that I’m on Tinder or any of that shit.”

Hmm. We’ll see about this. So while she’s gone, we start talking. He’s average stature, but it cuter in person than I thought. I tell him so, and ask why he doesn’t put his face there. He reiterates the business thing again. I find out he actually lives in SoCal, but is in my city about every other week. We keep talking and he realizes I’m actually pretty fucking cool, and expresses how that’s a pleasant surprise. He actually seems like a relatively normal dude too, once he gets over the paranoia of thinking I’m going to expose his identity.

The chatty lady comes back and REEKS of weed. I hate that smell. I lean closer to him, and at this point I’m three drinks in (btw, I’m a lightweight. Two drinks is PLENTY for me. After that… I kinda lose all good judgement). He comments how good I smell and I kiss him. He starts to slip his hand up my skirt and after a few minutes he suggests we go back to his hotel.

I quickly throw back another drink, and he closes out. I realize just how trashed I am.

On the way to the hotel, I start to rub him through his jeans, and think, “hmm, this feels weird…” so I unzip him and think I’ll be super sexy and give road head.

Now, it’s dark, and I’m drunk. I start to do my thing very quickly and realize he is small. Like, not micropenis small, but like, the smallest I’ve ever encountered. While I’m down there, he asks if I like his small dick (and will now be dubbed, the Little Guy). So at least he’s aware?? I’m not sure how to respond.

We get back to his hotel and we have a good time. We do positions that I didn’t know I could even do bc of what he was working with (and I actually have a tipped uterus, so my ex, who is pretty well endowed, and I couldn’t do certain positions. I always thought it was exclusively because of me, but apparently he had something to do with it too).

I’m still trashed during this whole experience.

Eventually we’ve had our fun and he asks me to come back to California with him. I giggle and tell him I haven’t moved out of my house yet and can’t just take off across the country with him. I ask him to call me an Uber and he does. While he’s waiting for my Uber with me, I keep getting his name mixed up. I tell him I suspect everything he’s said, but he’s just a one night stand so what do I care. He tells me he wants to see me again. I think to myself, “yeah ok, we’ll see about that.” He puts me in the Uber, and I go home.

The next day I text him. What is your actual name again? Am I remembering right that you wanted me to come to California with you? You said you want to see me again? He says he did, he still wants me to, and he’s going to call me the next time he’s in Dallas.

I figure this is all bullshit.

About a month later, he texts me. I legit cannot see him. I have strep. He seems to accept it and I figure “well that was a blip, I won’t hear from him again.”

In March, he texts me again. Tells me that he wanted to wait until I was in my own place to try to reach out again. I’m shocked. I tell him that while I’m flattered, I’m in a negative headspace over a Zombie (I haven’t written about him yet) that I can’t stop thinking about. He asks for details. I fill him in.

And then he tells me he feels that way about me a bit because I’m the best sex he’s ever had and he can’t stop thinking about me.


Well, I didn’t expect that at all. He told me he was serious about wanting me to come back to Cali and really wanted to see me. I wasn’t sure how to respond.

It wasn’t the worst sex I ever had, but it wasn’t the best either. Also, he happened to catch me during an incredibly busy week. We texted a few more times during that week and finally he texts me during the middle of me working with a client. He says, “look, I know I’m small, but you keep finding reasons not to see me. It’s ok, I get it. I’ll delete your number and I won’t bother you again.”

I kinda feel bad for a second. I still feel like he’s playing me. I have been genuinely busy, so it’s concerning for me that he thinks I’m blowing him off. But then I realize in the grand scheme of things, he’s probably a blip on my radar.

So I just let him fade away. I hope someone else can fuck him as well I as I did, if that was his truth.


2nd date: No, by my choice

Sex: yes

Ghosting: He probably thinks I ghosted him, but he was the one that said goodbye.

Date file: Traveling Salesman

December 2018

So I had my first post-divorce fuck. It was…. ok. Lackluster. Whatever, I didn’t cry and it wasn’t terrible, so I’ll put it in the win column.

After I had put the kids to bed on a Thursday night, it was “my” night to go out (some terrible fucking system that me and the ex came up with where we could go out while the other one stayed home with the sleeping kids). I was just swiping on Tinder and came across this tall, blonde man who seemed cute and could laugh at himself. I read his profile and realize he’s a salesman based out of Seattle.

Hmmm. How do I feel about one night stand with a traveling sales dude? Well, fuck it, he may not even reciprocate my feelings of attraction, so what do I have to lose?

So I swiped left and left it at that (If this were Bumble, I’d hit you up, but this is Tinder. Unless he’s hotter than Hades, I want him to message me to show he’s remotely serious).

To my surprise, he messages me almost immediately.

He seems super normal. Just a dude, who happens to be in my city, doing his thing. He’s bored. I bring up the fact that my bestie lives in Seattle. He says it’s overrun by weirdos, but overall it’s pretty cool. I mention I plan on visiting once life settles down after my divorce. He comments that it’s probably best for me to get divorced bc I’m hot. Then he makes the remark that it’s his last night in town.

Oh how convenient.

We flirt a bit more, but I’m pretty sure I’m going to stay in for the night. Then he offers just to grab a beer and says he doesn’t want to come off as creepy.

Ugh. Ok fuck it.

So I meet him out at a Chili’s of all places. Because it’s late and a Thursday and despite him being in a major city, his hotel is in a weirdly remote part of the city. So here we go, to get lit at Chili’s on a Thursday.

Y’all. Chili’s bar is where it’s at. They hook you up, FR. You can double your alcohol for 75 cents.

Well, guess where this story is headed.

We get wasted at the bar, and laugh about stupid stuff, and he calls an Uber to take us back to his hotel. When we get there we drink and chat a bit more and he tells me how plesantly surprised he is by how fun and cool I am. We talk more about our lives, my divorce, his regrets over not having children at this point in life…..

And then suddenly my clothes are on the floor.

We move to the bed and before I know it his hand is over my mouth because I’m screaming so loudly in ecstasy. He shushes me and continues to take over my body and I feel things I haven’t felt in years. I lose count of how many times I orgasm.

We fuck 2 more times before we realize it’s 3 in the morning. He has a flight to catch and I have to take children to school in less than 4 hours.

He helps me find my clothes, and calls me an Uber back to my car at Chili’s. We exchange numbers and he walks me outside and makes out with me until the driver arrives. He tells me to call him whenever I come up to Seattle, and we say goodbye.

The next day is rough. I’m luckily not hungover, but super sleep deprived, and the ex-husband is furious that I was out all night and he had no idea where I was. I don’t care.

I realize I’m walking funny. The insides of my thighs are bruised. I text him and tell him that I’m clearly out of practice, but I still feel amazing. He tells me I just need to get fucked well more often. The weather is turning nasty, and I secretly hope his flight gets cancelled. But in a few hours, he’s back in Washington.

We don’t chat again.

…..Until last week, when I made plans to go visit my bestie for Memorial Day. I text him and let him know I’ll be up there.

Salesman: You gonna be in Redmond?

Me: Yeah, that’s the plan

Salesman: Sweet. Well, let me know.

We’ll see what happens in May….


2nd date: Not yet…

Sex: Yes

Ghosted: No. Responded very promptly even though it’s been almost 4 months.

The best hits of the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s…. and I don’t mean oldies music

So I am in my mid-thirties. The last time I was single, I was 19. The farthest outside of my age range I’d even talk to was probably 2-3 years my junior or senior. Interactions with anyone beyond age-window was weird/creepy even just on a friendship level much less on a sexual level.

Boy, how the times have changed.

18 year olds are (weirdly) legal adults. That means that I can legally fuck someone who was born in the 2000s and ergo I am old enough to have birthed myself. WHAT?!?! (insert barf emoji here)

I can’t handle that fact – so I have decided to restrict myself to a meager three decades: those born in the 1970’s, 1980’s and 1990’s (even the 90’s freak me out a little).

Specifically, I have restricted myself to men up to 10 years my senior and 10 years my junior. Outside of that I start to feel the vomit rise up out of my stomach (for me! y’all may be cool with robbing the cradle or fucking a dude who could be your grandpa, and power to ya. This is just personal preference.)

Surprisingly, I haven’t noticed a whole lot of difference in level of skill between the ages. I thought “ha, I’ll show these 20 year olds a thing or two.”

Cut to me out of breath, naked and staring at the ceiling and thinking “holy shit, I just had the best sex of my life with someone who was barely in elementary school when I first started fucking….”

I have had great sex with 20 years olds and lousy sex with 40 year olds and vice versa. Age has not made a difference in quality or endurance. If anything the main difference seems to be the older ones are like, “alright, well, I’ve got shit to do so… see you next time” as they hand me my clothes.

Not all of them, mind you, but I suppose as we get older, we just have more shit to do. I know I do too.

What I think is most interesting about this, is that men seem to report that they notice a HUGE difference in the sex quality as women age. The older ladies know where it’s at (duh).

I’m not sure if this is a larger commentary on how our society shames young women and their sexuality, but we just eventually learn to give zero fucks and do whatever we damn well please, or if this is because women learn from their mistakes in bed better than men do and ergo we continue to get better like a fine wine.

But I know that I often have to beat off those 2000’s born babies with a stick and yell at them that it’s WAY past their bedtime and they should call their mother, she’s probably worried sick.

So ladies, if you’re worried about the quality of sex based on a dude’s age, I wouldn’t let it be a deciding factor at all. But, I’m also a believer of sex near the first date, so my opinion may be skewed. More on that in a future post….

Now I’m going to go back to sexting with that hot 28 year old pretty boy… and the hot 40 year old DILF

Date file: Breaking my post-divorce virginity (Eager Beaver)

December 2018

We divorced using a mediator. We went in on a Saturday, and awkwardly and painfully disentangled our lives for hours until it was finally done. She was going to submit a copy to the courts, and we would be divorced before the end of the years. 15 years of life undone in less than a weekend.

I had finally thrown in the towel on my marriage about a month prior to this, but I had not wanted to engage with anyone physically until everything was finished with us. After the mediation was done, I figured I was ready. I’m a “rip off the band-aid” type of person.

So I found a young, eager guy (we shall dub him Eager Beaver or EB for short) who was also not looking for anything substantial. He was going to be leaving for a contract work position on the other side of the country in the new year, so he had no room for anything real. EB started out our conversation by sending me a GIF of Jessica Alba throwing back some covers with a “come here” finger signal. It made me laugh. Very quickly we exchanged SnapChats and he started sending me (unsolicited) dick pics pretty quickly. He had a good body and seemed smart. I decided I could at least meet up with him and make out.

At this point, I had already had the “no sex because we didn’t have a condom” fail with the guy who was in the same boat as me. I figured, “I’m a grown-ass woman. I can buy my own damn condoms.”

So I did.

Because EB was also about to move out of the state, he had moved out of his apartment and was temporarily living with his parents about 40 minutes from the city. Uh, fuck that noise. I’m not driving out there and I’m not going to some dude’s parents’ house. Weird. So we agreed to meet up and just drink wine somewhere with plans to make out. We originally though we’d be able to go to park or something, but the weather turned nasty, so we just decided to meet up and drink in his car. Like teenagers.

WTF-ever, man.

He was nervous as fuck. I could have cared less. I filled him in on my story and he politely listened. Eventually I got tipsy and thought, “well, it’s now or never” and kissed him. Eventually the front seat got awkward, so we moved to the back. He was very paranoid that someone would see us. I laughed at him and told him to chill TF out. Eventually we’re both naked, and I ask him if he has a condom.

No. Of course he doesn’t.

PSA FOR MEN: If you’re meeting up with lady, go ahead and bring condoms. The worst that will happen is you are over prepared and you’ll have a set of blueballs. END OF PSA.

So after naked fooling around for a bit, I finally say, “well…. I might have a condom.”

EB stops. “What?”

“Yeah. I might have bought some.”

“That’s like the best news I’ve heard. Yay for prepared moms!”


So he puts it on and slides into me. I wonder if I’m going to cry, or get overly emotional because this is the first new penis I’ve had in me in 15 years. But to my surprise, none of that happens. It just feels good.

And then suddenly it’s over.

What the hell, EB?! I climax pretty quickly and easily and you’re done before it’s hardly begun? What a let down.

He apologizes, he just says it was so hot for him (it’s ok, and you’re welcome?). He says he wants to see me again. I say that’s fine. We both get dressed and go home.

When I arrive home, Husband comes to me and says, “You know, I’ve been thinking – what would we need to do make things work out between the two of us?”

I sit still, stunned. I just slept for someone else for the first time in 15 years. I begged you for months – years, really – to go to counseling with me and make our marriage a priority, and NOW you want to work on things?????

“No, Husband. That ship has sailed. I’m sorry.”

And he goes back to his bedroom, and I cry.

The guy I slept with contacts me a few extra times, but the timing is always bad (and let’s be honest, the sex was ok at best), so I don’t try to force anything. The new year comes and goes, and he moves out of state. And that’s the last we try to contact each other.

2nd date? No
Sex? Yes
Ghosting? No – just faded out mutually.

I’m a Safety Girl

Ladies, if there’s one thing on this fucked up journey I’ve learned it’s that men are ill-prepared. Really, in life, but especially when it comes to sex.

You’d think that as the more overtly sexual of our genders, they’d up their game a little in this department but it has been SHOCKING to me how few of them have condoms on their person. Like, some of them seem to have the executive functioning to think, “hey, I like sex, and I’d like to fuck this woman, and I’d like to keep my dick functional, so I’ll make sure I have the proper equipment to do all that.”


Big ol’ nope. Sure, there are those who think they did a good job by keeping them in their car (aw, honey, you’re cute, but those extreme temperatures damage the condom so…. that’s a major false sense of security). But even if they DO have them in the damn car, they LEAVE THEM THERE. If you’re coming into my house, and you plan on fucking me, are you gonna stop once you’re already buck-ass neked and trek out to your vehicle to get that little piece of latex???

No, son. No.

So ladies, let me be the one to tell you: don’t you EVER depend on a man for nothin’, ESPECIALLY when it comes to your sexual health.

Put on your big girl panties, get ye to the local drug store, and buy the damn condoms yourself. Hell, we already carry around bags that contain other things we stick in our underwear or stick up our hoo-has. Just put the condoms right next to those tampons and pads.

I organize my purse into smaller bags. My medicine bag, my business receipt bag, my basic makeup bag, my extra makeup bag (what, I need darker shadow if I go out after work and don’t want to run home, don’t judge me), and my vagina bag. Things I need for my vagina, which include tampons and condoms. And a small thing of lube (bc why not).

So don’t be embarrassed to buy those suckers. Find the ones you likes (or hell, the ones that make the most sense economically), and stick em in your purse next to your other unmentionables you’re already carrying around. No one needs to know. But at least you’re covering your bases and protecting your health.

Also, side note to the men folk: if your penis is ANYTHING other than average (and you know who you are… you little guys and you big ones…) YOU better up your condom game. I aint got time to figure out if your dick is too big (ugh, this is choking my cock!) or too little (uh… it keeps falling off….) for the condoms I purchase. I don’t want to be spending extra money on the off-chance that a dude is two standard deviations above or below the penis-mean. So if you are outside the range of “normal,” you better get your house in order.