OK everyone. It's time to play the game "What In Their Right Minds Made Them Send This?"
I'm going to call out this dating site and its pathetic lack of even below average men. If you don't want to hate the human race, DO NOT JOIN PLENTY OF FISH (www.pof.com). Here are a few examples of what I get to read on a daily basis:
1) Would you like to have dinner at The Cheesecake Factory in the Americana? (: (This is wrong for so many reasons.) 2) hi,you would like to go for dinner (I detest controlling men. BTW, his default pic is of him and a hefty belly dancer.) 3) please dont trip!....but ur so hot i'd suck a fart out of your ass n hold it in like a bong rip !!!!ahhhhhhhhhhhh sorry im trying!lol im just genuine! (Obviously, my personal fave. And HIS default pic is of a motorcycle. That's it.)
I mean, I could go on and on. And I would if I had started writing these down awhile back. Oops.
There is one diamond in the rough. Meet Teacher. He's a teacher. I'm a teacher, and I gotta say, I don't know if I could date one, but this is his occupation.
He's ADORABLE in his pics, he knows the difference between your and you're, NO motorcycles in any of his pictures (VERY rare on pof), and he just seems lovely. However, he takes DAYS to write back. Doesn't he know I have a blog to do?
San Francisco was a smashing success. Here are a few things I observed in The City by the Bay:
1. There are a lot of homeless people.
2. Women in SF don't seem to fancy nail polish.
3. I'm just as surprised as you are to find out that I am NOT invisible in Frisco. One man, bearing 9 of the 14 signs of a serial killer, stared at me too long at the Hyatt. It was uncomfortable. But I still got it, ladies and gentlemen.
4. The beds at the Marriott beat those at the Hyatt, but the Hyatt has balconies and superior concierge lounges.
5. Napa really is a day trip, but if you have to stay, DO NOT book the Marriott. The beds aren't worth it.
6. The cabbies are cool.
7. People are nice.
8. It's nothing like LA.
I enjoyed my time with B in SF. It's a fun little town. But I gotta say, it feels great to be home, where I can wear my chipped nail polish with pride whilst revealing my bra as part of my outfit. LOVE YOU LOS ANGELES.
Today, B and I are off to beautiful San Francisco with a short jaunt to Napa. We have promised each other a relaxing Thanksgiving filled with rest, shopping, and starving ourselves. I'm not sure how long the starving part will last, as B and I can get quite gluttonous together. I just need to remember that I want to look underfed for my Christmas party in a couple of weeks.
The good news is, I should lose a couple of lbs. on the plane. I have a cruel fear of flying. I've been able to rodeo it in as of late, but I still get the fear of God in me when we hit turbulence. Like spill my champagne and B's champagne all over him scared.
So listen up. The truth is the truth, and the truth is this: a) It's a holiday weekend. People are dispersed. b) Dudes in SF don't look at me sideways because either 1) they're gay or 2) I don't fit the demographic. What I'm trying to say here is, I don't think there will be dating action on this vacay.
In Paris, I was the bee's knees. Men were on me like stink on animal skat. I am invisible in SF. I'm just not their type of lady. I don't wear button ups with pearls. I don't frequent J. Crew (yet some pieces are quite nice). I don't own that much fleece. If I could get away with exposing my whole back on a day-to-day basis, I would. Different styles.
BUT, I'm excited to go to that quirky little town in central California. (It's not as up north as one might think.) I'm also excited to have B time because I love him and I miss him. Too bad my gay dates can't count. We would have had this thing wound up in 15 days flat.
I was talking to B and NYC last night about my time and how precious it is. I've explained this before, but to reiterate, now that I'm working full time, I don't have time to date men. If I REALLY liked someone, I'd make time, but dating chumps can't happen with a full-time gig. I still need to do stand-up and hang with my people.
B agreed with me and asked why I felt I needed to end the blog so quickly. (Regulars, stop laughing. I know I've been at it since July. Fine, late June, whatever.)
I'm going to stop beating myself up. If I don't want to waste my precious time on someone, then I'm not. I'm just going to make fun of their profiles and back and forths with me. I think we can all agree that that's OK. I'll keep writing, you keep reading, and we'll eventually get through this together. And who knows. Maybe you'll be around for when I truly fall in love. (OK, again Regulars, stop laughing.)
I'd also like to give a shout out to France. We have some Regulars out there somewhere. It took you long enough, but welcome.
I know a massage is not an official date, but these people get further with me than most of the men I agree to meet.
I have been stressed out at work, so when I had my nails done yesterday, I asked for a back massage. A mini-massage, if you will. The lithe man that worked on my toes had the honors, and he worked me over. There were moments when I thought, "So this is what it would feel like to die at the hands of a man." The upper body strength is indescribable. How did men get made this way? I'm positive that I could not fit into this man's jeans, yet I felt he could snap my collarbone in 17 places in no time flat. It hurt.
Today, B suggested we go to foot spa. The full body rub down. I was worried I'd relive a pseudo homicide by a woman-hating maniac. To my surprise, I was given a female masseuse.
Completely different experience. She was like a butterfly, so gentle and soft. It was nurturing, yet firm. Only the way a woman can do it. I never had to squint my eyes in pain, breathe through my mouth, or make that embarrassing involuntary grunt. Besides the old man in the corner moaning, "Oh yeah. Oh yeah," it was a delightful experience.
So I am officially announcing that I am a massage lesbian. And I am proud of that. Female massage therapists are the new OBGYNs. They used to be preferred, but now they're a necessity.
Dear God, or Universe, or Creator, or WHATEVER YOU WANT TO BE CALLED!!!!
I don't ask for much. I really don't. I live a humble(ish) life, I put forth a great effort to treat those that deserve it with respect, and kids love me. All I want is a DECENT MAN IN HIS 30s TO ASK ME OUT.
No more 20 year olds and certainly no more men in their 50s. I cannot. I just cannot. 30s PLEASE. JUST ONE. SO I CAN STOP BEING SO CYNICAL.
And cynical I am. Always have been, really. Even as a child I remember my mother saying, "You're too young to be so cynical." I thought it gave me street cred. Now I just find it to be annoying.
Then last night, something magical happened. Turn up the fire, snuggle up with a cozy blanket, and let me tell you a story.
Yesterday evening, I hung with my Israeli friend. We laugh a lot together and he's more cynical than I am. He reminded me that he thinks I will die alone, childless. I kind of agree with him.
I saunter back home, thinking I should get to bed and wake-up early for Cardio Barre. If I'm going to be alone forever, I should look fabulous.
I am greeted by my housemate, B, and his NEW boyfriend. Let's call him NYC. They were popping open a bottle of champagne. I complain because champagne is my kryptonite, and I promised myself I would get up early for Cardio Barre. NYC instantly calls me skinny. Falling in love...
THEN he tells me to wait and runs off for a small box, wrapped in silver paper, with a blue bow on top. A gift. For me. The lady of the manor. The gift: a bracelet
This is the way it's supposed to be. We call this act well-mannered. Taught correctly. Good parenting. I could go on and on.
Everyone reading this post: According to my Israeli friend, there is a very good chance that I will never reproduce. PLEASE teach YOUR children to be well-mannered like NYC. What a wonderful world this could be.
I just received this from a man who looks like this:
what a man would say to a woman like you
if I was lost in the sky With only one wing left to fly on My wing would be you If I were crawling from a wreck With only a dim light to guide me That light would be you If I were forsaken by the gods And dropped into an island You would be that island If the only fragile step On the path looked hopeless I would go for that step I've got a feeling I will be the one Who will survive through all this pain I'd die for you Immortal I have torn away a piece of the sky That didn't seal out the eternal I'd die for you If words leave traces I will tattoo my skin With the words we haven't said Nothing will wipe you out I will guard against the pain Even if that's all that remains People will say with beautiful words That nothing is worth anything Still this nothing is all mine What good would it do me To find my destiny If it doesn't lead to you?
Because I think it's hilarious to procrastinate, I delayed deleting my account on that site where guys pay you to go on a date. You know, the definition of escorting?
Anyway, some knob offered me $30 to go on a date with him AND he's from San Clemente. I don't need to explain any further why that is an automatic rejection. Reason: Bid too low
Then he IMMEDIATELY came back with $60. Rejection. Reason: Not my type (But between you and me, the bid was still too low.) Instant new bid at $100. Rejection but it's getting fun now and I'm intrigued. Reason: Not my type
New bid at $101. That made me laugh. You can't communicate with these guys unless you accept the bid, so I accept. I message: You are persistent.
He starts in with accolades about my picture and my awesome profile. (It's pretty unconventional and rad.) He wants to text, so I give him my number.
This is where it all goes downhill. First he sends me a video taken from his phone of some rock concert. I ask, "What is that?" and his response is, "Steel panther last night at house of blues!" I instantly think, I don't give a DAMN. Oh did I mention earlier he asked about a good place to grab a late breakfast, and I'm already halfway done teaching Block C?
Then I get this (and I detest this): What are you up to now? Send me a pic of you!
I don't know what all of the youngsters are up to these days, but sending a picture of myself to a stranger seems tacky, naive, and downright dangerous.
I respond: Not a big fan of sending pics to people I haven't met yet. One step at a time.
Ladies and gentleman, I am no prude but if there is one thing I believe in, it's manners. Manners change from region to region and culture to culture. This man and I are not from the same region nor the same culture.
His response: Well for the record we agreed to meet and I spent 6.75$ to message you! And I have 3 pics on my profile and you have one from far away (not true). Let's be fair here.
My response: Uh oh. I don't think we're going to get along.
He thought my response was hilarious, but I was obviously done. He sent a few weird pictures and then realized I wasn't interested. Who raised this man?
On a higher note, Earnest has asked me out and we're trying to meet before I go to San Francisco next Wednesday. We're having a difficult time matching schedules. Yes. I'm really that busy.
The birthday weekend was a smashing success. Amy and Ash took me to this adorable speakeasy called Next Door Lounge for dinner and drinks. It's fabulous and I highly recommend it to LA people looking for something different.
After the crowd turned a bit too night-timey for us, we moved it to one of my favorite watering holes where I was greeted by more friends. Drinks all around, a happy birthday tune with a candle, a quick jaunt to my dentist's home for video game dancing, and a cab home for good measure. TOTALLY normal birthday for a gal in her 30s.
Because I was busy with my day-of-birth ritual, I did not keep up with my suitors on the site. At my old site, this was social suicide. At the new site, one will be berated and begged for attention. There were a slew of messages along the lines of, "What have I done wrong?" "Have you forgotten about me?" "I promise I'm a good guy, just let me take you out!" FRIGHTENING.
There's only one thing I want a man to beg for, and it's not appropriate to write here for the world to see.
There is one man that seems decent. We'll call him Earnest. His name actually is Earnest, but it's such a fabulous name that I have to use it as his alias too. Earnest understands subject/verb agreement, has a real job, no pics with motorcycles in them, and he is familiar with Oscar Wilde's play The Importance of Being Earnest. (Obviously he has an unfair advantage, as his name is Earnest, BUT STILL.)
At the moment, he and I are just corresponding. As a lady, I feel I should wait for him to ask me out. I mean, his name is Earnest for Christ's sake. Gotta kick it old school.
First, I'd like to address the fact that it is my birthday weekend. Since it falls on a Sunday, the girls are taking me out to dinner tonight. Then we're going to cat around town with a larger crowd and see where the evening takes us. I hope I meet a decent fellow that I can go on a few dates with because the new site is HORRENDOUS.
If I were given only one adjective to describe this site, it would be ugh. Here is a short list of what's going on over there:
1) Nine tenths of my suitors use your/you're incorrectly, so that's fun for me. 2) I am flattered that older men find me to be attractive, but I have a dad who has been there for me my whole life, so I don't need them. Being daddy-issue-free really limits your choices in this pond. 3) One suitor's subject line: You should be a model!!! 4) Gotta love messages like this:
I want to treat you with respect and I know I may not be worthy to touch u but I could serve u i would obey you and accept any and all punishments you decide If I don't please you.
I think men were put here to please women our purpose is to protect provided and obey women I would love to serve you. If you have never had a man put your wishes wants hopes and demands first please allow me to show you how you should be treated i love to meet you
(Let's not even discuss the grammar.)
5) For whatever reason, the guys are SUPER aggressive on this site. It actually kind of scares me.
Luckily, I have combed out a couple of men who can complete a sentence correctly. At this rate, it doesn't matter if I'm attracted to them. If they can conjugate verbs, they're in.
I'm leaving the "pay for a date" site. I read into it a little more, and they say to ask for 1/2 of the money up front and the other 1/2 at the end of the date. This is absurd. Call me old fashioned, but I'm going to date guys the way one should. Dreading it for hours on end, drinking a beverage you don't want to be drinking, with a man you don't want to be drinking with, and walking away empty handed and soulless.
I had forgotten how awful Internet dating was. And this new site IS THE WORST. Hooking up with exes is like staying at the Four Seasons compared to the Motel 6 crap I'm putting up with right now. Seriously, not even a Red Lion. This is straight up unacceptable. Have I already tentatively booked 2 dates with extremely unacceptable men? Yes. And it's killing me.
But my favorite story to tell is about this other site that I have joined. It was suggested to me by a friend. Apparently, these guys have to prove that they are invested in you and pay you to go on a date with them. Is it an escort service? Apparently no, because I'm not touching him for $60. Yup. He offered me $60. And I get a free dinner out of it. Or a drink. I don't know, but I have found out a way to make money at this gig, and that's a silver lining. Unfortunately, he's a beefcake. Muscles, shaved body, bandana tied around his head, etc. Oh, and did I mention that he's paying me to date him? Wait. This doesn't feel right. Let me rethink.
I quit the original dating site I joined when this experiment first began. I was looking pathetic. Like those girls that don't go to college and keep hanging out with HS kids pathetic. It was time to leave...
And be the HOT NEW GIRL ON THE BLOCK on another disappointing site. This site is where the misfits hang. It's pretty gross. But I need to shake it up, as the Regulars know, so let's see what happens. Although I think I know what happens.
As I write this post, my computer keeps bleeping so unsubstantial men can chat with me. I'm telling ya, it's always the new girl. This is why switching high schools mid-year is such a great idea. It fixes your self-confidence. Woohoo!
I've already communicated with 3 Asians, a Middle Eastern, and 2 men above 40. I think I'm going to like it here.
I had to wake up to go to iPad training at school, so Texas Ex drove me there so he could explore. He picked me up a few hours later, and we went to sushi for a late lunch.
Afternoon sake never hurt anyone going through an extreme dating weekend, so Texas Ex and I indulged. We had an intense conversation about ghosts of relationships past. He told me a few stories about exes that make me think bitches be crazy. I told him a few that made him think I have awful taste in men.
To end the evening, and our visit, we watched some of those awful shows that feature some poor, unsuspecting girl being abducted, raped, and probably murdered, but they never found the body. You know, the uplifting stuff. I don't know why we like it, but we do.
The next day, I went to work, and Texas Ex caught a ride to the airport with one of my roomies. The weekend was over. Done. The end.
What did I learn from all of this, you ask? First, I learned that Texas Ex and I will always think fondly of one another. Secondly, I have realized that I cannot live with a man in such close quarters. I'm too used to being alone. They said it would happen to me, but I didn't believe them. They were right.
Dear future husband,
If you actually exist, I hope it's cool that we either live in a duplex or a house with wings. I love you, but in order to keep that love alive, I need my space. I also need dry bathroom floors, a somewhat clear coffee table, and as little talking as possible during important parts of television shows.
As I was never alone, I have to recall the past couple of dates from memory. It may be sketchy, but here's the Reader's Digest version.
Texas Ex and I woke up late, as we both had tummy aches for a good portion of the night/morning. After we pulled ourselves together, we did what anyone would do after a rough evening due to rich food. We went to brunch and drank Bloody Marys. It was good.
We attended a friend's pumping carving contest early in the evening where, ironically, no pumpkins were carved. Instead, everyone gathered around the television to watch a mini American Horror Story marathon. If you are not watching this show, GET TO IT. I know, I know. I detest scary stuff too, but it's not scary as much as it's suspenseful. Figuring out who in the hell is a ghost will keep you busy for a while.
We ate chili, drank Prosecco, laughed with the gang, and then went home. There were a bevy of gays in costume at my house when we arrived. My roomie was dressed in drag. Just another Sunday in these parts.