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.

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.

Fireworks.

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

Lumberjack:Hey
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.

Outcomes:
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.