Date file: The Big Guy

February/March 2019

So I had just moved into my own place and then I was fired.

What the actual fuck.

As I reeled and wondered what the hell I would be doing with my life, I avoided my pain, confusion and fear by talking to men who wanted to tell me how hot I was.

That’s when I met James. He and I chatted in the week leading up to my moving out and being fired. When I told him I had been fired, he asked me if he could take me out to lunch. Well, shit, I certainly wasn’t doing anything else with my time, so why not. I knew that he was over 6 feet tall because I had set my filters to only show me guys at least that tall. I didn’t know just HOW tall he was.

6 freaking 9.

Now, I’m not shrimpy. I’m 5’8″ and I love my stilettos. But DAMN that’s tall.

When I walked into the restaurant, he was already there. He stood up and hugged me. My head came up to the bottom of his sternum.

He wore a black pea coat, dark jeans, and polished black shoes. His blonde hair is carefully combed, and he has nice blue eyes. When he sat down, our height difference was not nearly as apparent. We talked a little bit about my firing, but we talked more about our kids (he has a 12 year old son) and got to know more background information about each other. Lo and behold, we went to the same high school! He graduated the year before I became a freshman, so we were never on campus at the same time. But we found a few other bizarre similarities and the lunch hour passed quickly. Soon it was time for him to return to work so he hugged me again and said, “I’d really like to take you out again sometime.”

“I’d like that very much.”

“Good. Let’s talk soon.”

I went home and tried to continue to reorient my life. I decided that afternoon that I was going to go visit my sister in NY. What the fuck else was I going to do with my time? Surprisingly, a ticket to NY in the next couple of weeks was less than $150, so I jumped on it, and notified her I would be coming in a little over two weeks. We were thrilled.

The next week was going to be spring break. James was planning on taking his son out of town for a father/son trip and wanted to take me out again before he left. I said that would be fine. Originally we planned to go out Friday, but on Wednesday, he texted me asking what was I doing.

“I’m working with a private client right now and I managed to get a few more clients. Will be doing this contract work until 10.”

“What about after that?”

“After?? Uhh… idk, nothing, I guess.”

“Want to grab a drink?”

“Um, sure. You ok with drinking that late? I don’t have to get up that early tomorrow…”

“Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

So we agree to meet at the bar down the street from me. He gets to the bar first, and I saddle up in the barstool next to him. He asks me how my contract work was going and I said fine, but obviously it wasn’t a full time paycheck like I was used to. But something was better than nothing. We talk more about my work goals and other polite small talk and then I order something.

“Jack and Diet Coke, please”

“Wow, you don’t mess around”

“I mean…. if I’m gonna drink, I might as well make it count.”

“You wanna know something funny? I’m a total lightweight.”

“… what? You’re 6’9″!”

“Yeah, I know, it makes no sense, but two drinks and I’m DONE. I get totally silly. It’s bizarre.”

So we laugh and drink and talk some more. I find out he went to freaking YALE on a FULL RIDE. I also find out he’s relatively successful, also invests in real estate like me, and has very similar views on parenting. By this point, we’ve each had a couple of drinks and are feeling loose. We ask for the food menu.

Oh. Kitchen closed at 11. Fuck.

But the pizza place down the street serves until 2 AM, so we tab out and meander down the street to try to fix our buzzed brains and bodies. We split a pizza and sober up a bit. I decide to continue to drink because I literally live a half mile away. I ask if he’d be willing to drive me home and I’ll just walk back in the morning to get my car. He agrees. After pizza, he starts to walk me back to his car, and he leans (er, rather, bends) over to kiss me. It’s a pretty excellent kiss. We continue walking over to his car and get in. I lean over to kiss him and it starts to become more aggressive.

“Wow you’re a good kisser”

“Well, thanks. You’re not so bad yourself. Would you like to come over for a bit?”

“Absolutely”

Once we get inside the door, I look down and realize just how giant his feet are.

“What size shoe do you wear?”

“16”

And then things move very quickly. He is a former college athlete and is an avid rower, so he’s in excellent shape. I go to the bathroom, and remove all my clothes except my bra and panties. When I open the door, he stares at me.

“Oh my god”

I realize he’s also stripped down to his underwear. I flick off the lamp and he pulls me into bed. We make our way under the covers and start making out and getting handsy. After several minutes he says, “I want to show you something” and I realized he’s now naked. He puts my hand on his cock.

Holy. Shit.

It’s like the size of Pringles can.

I don’t even see it. The lights are off, I’m kinda drunk, and I’m just going by feel. But it is clearly gigantic.

And it feels amazing.

I’ve been told that guys with big dicks can be lazy. But he was not. I wouldn’t say it was the best sex of my life. Not at all. But it certainly wasn’t bad. It was definitely better than average.

The next morning he wakes up and takes me to my car. He kisses me again and says he wants to see me when he comes back from taking his son on their trip. I realize that by the time they come back, I’ll be getting ready to leave for NY.

“Well, then call me when you get back from NY”

“Ok then. I’ll see you then. Have a great trip with your son!”

“Have a great trip with your sister”

I don’t think about him much in the time leading up to my trip to NYC because honestly, I was thinking about all the fun I wanted to have with the men of New York. This was what online dating was made for, right?! Meet people easily in other places! And I was going to be in New York, without children, and single. I was DEFINITELY going to be making myself available for all the fun I wanted to have. I also realized I’d be there over St. Patrick’s day. Basically it would be 5 days of partying.

I changed my online profiles to reflect that I would be in NYC for a limited time. Went to NY. Had my fun (Date file NY edition will be coming up soon). Came back home.

When I came back, I texted the Big Guy. No answer. I messaged him on Tinder. No answer.

And then I realized he could see all the profile changes I had made about me being single and ready to mingle in NYC.

I don’t know if he was bothered by the fact I was on the prowl in NY. I dunno if he just didn’t like me as much as I thought he did. But whatever it was, I never heard from him again.

A rose by any other name

Hey guys. It’s been a hot minute. But I’ve been busy with stuff. So there’s my lame-ass non-apology apology.

So, when playing the online dating game, one can run into MANY different people. How to keep them all straight? Especially when you take your talking to the next level by moving them over to text. I know some guys would ask me for a picture of me so that would pop up when I called/texted, but I did better with words that would help me remember the guy. So I thought I’d share them with you.

*Note – even though these are pet names, I’ve still changed the first name to protect the (mostly) innocent*

Adam DILF

Andrew Meat Head

Alex Marketing

Aaron Model

Allen NY Lawyer

Andy Firefighter

Adam Seattle

Anthony Cuddles Bouncer

Brad Photographer

Billy Married with 3 Kids

Blake Jersey Boy

Bobby McFunnyFace

Brent Beard No Strings

Clint Utah Baseball

Chris Old School Gangster

Davis 6’5″ Weirdo

Dean Twins

Jared NY Dinosaur

John Paul Tattoo

Joe Frenchie

Jason Sapiosexual

Justin Soup

Kendall Travel and Swear

Kennedy Finland Douchebag

Liam PhD NY

Luke Corporate Wellness

Marc Realtor

Martin Austin

Matt NY Ginger

Michael Firefighter

Mike Jacket

Marty NoFx

Nate Beard

Nathan Nurse

Nick Nuclear Hockey

Nick Oil

Paul Video Games

Patrick Smile Tongue God

Phil Aetna

Rob Realtor Drunkass

Robert Bumble

Ryan ENTP

Ryan NY Boyfriend

Ryan Jersey McHotAbs

Ryan Tacos

Sam Cutie

Skyler Soccer Schizo

Steve Handsome

Simon British

Taylor Doctor

Travis Detroit

Tom Conductor Sad Dick

Tom Doctor

Todd Probably Autism

Tyler NY

Vince Mechanic

William Mambo Taxis

William Counselor

Zack No Kids

So as you can see some were just enough to remember what they did occupationally speaking, and some got pseudonyms based on what they did to me (good or bad).

Any other options for keeping these creeps straight?

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: 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.

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?

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!

Kinda.

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.

PLOT TWIST.

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.

Outcomes:

2nd date: No, by my choice

Sex: yes

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