Date file NY Edition: The Irish Boy

March 2019

What does one do when they find themselves newly divorced and newly unemployed? Well, I don’t know about you, but I book a trip to New York City for a few days of hedonism.

Sister lives in the Big Apple at the top of Manhattan. Like, she’s practically in the Bronx. I fly in on a Wednesday afternoon and being a normal work day for all other humans, Sister is obviously doing her normal adult work life. Like many people in NYC, she is also a creative, so she has rehearsal or so other such thing that evening. So I’m left to my own devices for my first day-ish in the big city.

I make my way down to Sister’s work to let her know I got into town safely and to get the key to her apartment. I meet her boss who literally lives in an apartment overlooking Central Park. It’s like I’m in the Time Zone. Nothing makes sense. People are reminding others to pay the Chanel invoice, discussing how tired this other person is due to just finishing styling some A-list celebrity for the Oscars, and paying some Uber driver $500 dollars to drive back from Brooklyn to return the iPhone Boss Lady left in the backseat. It’s a totally alien environment.

All the while I’ve been chatting with a guy from Jersey who has the most fucking Irish name I’ve ever heard. I assume he’ll be going to the St. Patrick’s Day parade.

“Oh fuck no. I don’t go to that shit. I will be in the Poconos. My extended family throws the most ridiculous, multi-block St. Patrick’s Day party where they all pretended they are not raging alcoholics. I am leaving tomorrow morning before the weekend hits.”

“Oh. Well, I’m alone tonight. Shall we hang out?”

“Sure. Can you make it to Hoboken?”

“Uh….. sure….”

And then the SexySuburbMom becomes the LostIdiotGirl. If I can stick to the subway, I’m alright. But this involved a ferry and a bus. Eventually I found my way there. I knew I was in the right spot when I saw more white people in one place than I’d seen anywhere else in the city.

When I arrived in Hoboken, Irish guy was there to greet me. We walked over to a not insanely crowded bar as it was now happy hour and had a couple pints. We talked more about my situation and I learned more about him. We’d been talking for a couple days, but I got to know more about him and his life across the river from NYC. We talked about how shitty and stupid online dating was, but it was pretty cool for people just looking to meet up with other people in a new city. After a couple beers, I decided I didn’t want to get really wasted with a stranger in a strange city, so I asked for the check and said we should walk outside.

We decided to go walk along the waterfront. As we looked across the rive to the skyscrapers, I asked what it was like to live there on 9/11. He told me what it was like to watch the towers fall on his second day of his junior year of high school and have friends worried about their parents’ fates. I talked about my experience 1500 miles away and tried to relate. He convinced me I should visit the 9/11 Museum, but he had absolutely no desire to go there ever again.

As we were talking and walking, I eventually realized we had wandered into a more residential area of the city.

“Where are we going?”

“Oh, back to my place. Is… that ok?”

“Oh. Yeah. I guess.”

“We can go somewhere else if you want. I was just going to grab my cigarettes”

“You smoke? Gross”

“Yeah, I know.”

When we walk into his apartment, I noticed a large tank in the corner. He tells me that’s his bearded dragon, Idris Elba.

“Why did you name him Idris Elba?”

“Why would you name a bearded dragon anything else?”

He smokes a cigarette outside and I play with his giant labrador. When he finishes, he pops a stick of gum and kisses me. He’s a good kisser, so I go along with it and we move our make out session into the kitchen. He lifts me onto the countertop and slides his hand up my shirt. I remember he mentioned a roommate, so I request we move to a more private place in case she returns. We make our way towards his room in the basement.

Now, in my part of the country, basements are rare. So this kinda freaked me out. And lets face it, I don’t really know this dude, so that kinda freaks me out. But I know how to take care of my own, so I choose not to freak out.

We have a good time. Better than I thought we would. Eventually he lets me know that a friend has to stop by to pick up something. Nothing to make you feel super awkward like meeting the friend of a stranger knowing that they most likely know we just had sex.

His friend is very normal and quite nice and jokes around for a bit before leaving. I realize the sun is setting and I should make my way back to the top of Manhattan. While I’m starting to gather my things that I had left in the kitchen, he kisses me from behind. Before I know it he’s fucking me from behind on top of his dining room table with my panties around my ankles. We go quickly, because we still don’t know when the roommate will walk in. Once we’re finished, he walks me to the end of the block and I tell him I can make my way back to the subway on my own. I tell him to have a good time in the Poconos and he tells me to be safe partying in the city. 10 minutes later he texts me to let me know that we narrowly missed his roommate walking into the house.

To my surprise, he continues to text me throughout the weekend despite knowing we can’t really hang out at all. He’s funny and easy to talk to. We try to get together one more time before I head back home, but the stars don’t align. He asks me to let him know the next time I’m in NY, but I let him know I will have a child in tow. I tell him not to hedge his bets on me, but if we can make it work, that’d be cool.

Over the next few months, he texts me randomly and I text him randomly. He kinda turns into a confidante of sorts, and I am for him too.

Recently, I’ve met someone. It’s honestly the main reason I haven’t written in a while. A few days after I met him, Irish guy texts me. I tell him I’ve met someone.

“Then why the fuck are you texting me back, crazy face?! Go be with him!”

“Ha, fair point. Thanks, Irish Guy. You’re a good dude.”

Honestly, I wouldn’t mind talking with him still because I’m the kind of person who can have a sexual thing with someone and if it doesn’t turn into something more, I can flip it into a platonic relationship and never look back. But maybe he’s not. And that’s ok.

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: Zombie – Part 3

February/March 2019

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

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

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

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

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

Then I hear the WhatsApp notification.

Zombie: Hey beautiful, congrats on the house.

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

Me: Oh hey there stranger.

Zombie: How’s the new place?

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

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

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

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

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

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

Me: Yeah? And what’s that look like?

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

Me: Well, do you wanna come over?

Zombie: Tonight?!

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

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

Me: What happened?

Zombie: I’d rather explain in person….

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

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

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

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

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

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

He reads it.

And looks at it.

And looks at it.

And looks at it.

And then, he’s gone.

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

I have been blocked.

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

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

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

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

I feel erased.

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

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

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

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

What the actual fuck.

I research online to try to provide some answers.

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

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

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

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

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

Outcomes:

2nd date: We saw each other several times

Sex: LOTS

Ghosting: Worse – Zombied and Cloaked.

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….