post partum

After our third date where Dan came unhinged over my unwillingness to spend the night, I honestly figured I would never hear from him again. I already had a short trip planned to visit family, and gladly hopped on the plane to get away from the insanity of the whirlwind un-romance.

As I de-briefed my fam on the wild ride that is Dan's emotional instability, I realized the best part of my time with Dan was trapped on his phone. On our third date he captured me and this delightful elderly raver doing the robot together. I really wanted this footage. I debated the risk of texting Señor non compos mentis to ask him for the video, or if I should just let it go because that's what that frozen chick would tell me to do.

Well I hemmed and hawed, and ultimately decided to text Dan.  What's the worst that could happen? He doesn't reply? No loss if you don't have it to begin with.  *deep breath*

Is there any way you could email me the video of me dancing with that lady? I'd love to see if if you still have it. 

*hit send*

Ok if he doesn't text back that's fine. A few hours later...

He replies! He will send it! And he does! Aaaand he has an iPhone which apparently takes shitty video. Ugh. My video is clear and you can see the lady and her intense dance moves (thank you superior camera of the Galaxy S9). His video you can't even really tell that there are two people in the video; you just see a few blinky lights floating in the blackness. Ugh. All that worry and making contact for nothing. Oh well. Moving on!

but doing the Robot with a elderly raver probably WON'T happen twice!! 😭

Except...

A few days later he reaches out - How was your trip? 

I'm sorry, what? Did you get amnesia? We ended our last date where you were YELLING at me that I had insulted your family. For some reason, I replied. I should have just not ever responded, but for some reason I thought he was maybe trying to restore his reputation in my eyes, apologize for yelling, or at least make nice so we end things on good terms.  I have a flaw in that I almost always have to respond to a text, even if I don't like you.

Just at the Chicago airport now. 

No reply. Ok good. He got the message. Until he didn't. The following evening he texted asking if I had gotten back safely, and that he would like to see me soon, and he's at an art walk if I'm not doing anything right now.

WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK, DAN!?!?!!??

I am as clear as I can possibly be:

I'm home. I don't think we are looking for the same things in a relationship. It is probably best if we go our separate ways. 

Because I am not looking for a psychopath as a life partner, so, best you keep looking sir.  His response is truly a must-see-to-believe, so here are images of his actual text messages that followed.

telling me how I "should" have been

Text translation: I think you know better. I think we might have a difference as far as timing, but that's about it. It worries me that you draw that conclusion. All I said was to keep the physical out of things. We should be friends. You should've been totally agreeable to that if you were at all sincere, but as soon as you can't have your cake and eat it too, then you want to call it quits.

"shame" on me for making "assumptions"

What we have here is textbook codependent manipulations. What can a woman expect from a guy like this? A whiny narcissistic asshole that won't let you have friends, makes you feel bad for having an opinion, and explains any problem you might have with any of the above as your fault. My friends were up in arms, wanting to beat him up, how could Dan say my head was up my ass? Honestly, to me, that one of the least offensive things he said. The worst are the more subtle accusations of how I am a terrible person. (Which, to be fair, I did insult his family, so really I am a terrible person. LOL)

I never responded. Somehow I got over my impulse to reply to everything and everyone, because people like Dan feed on attention. My non-doctor diagnosis: Dan is a manipulative narcissistic personality disorder. Here is a great article that highlights every red flag I saw and every tactic he used on me at one point or another.

Lesson learned here? Look yourself up in the White Pages, then contact them to get your listing removed. Apparently some of us need a psychopathic date to realize we shouldn't have our info just out there for anyone to stalk us. But you don't need that.  There's no reason the whole internet needs to know where you live, who your family members are, where they live, all their contact info, etc. If they really want to stalk you, at least make them pay for a background check.

*Dan didn't stalk me, he never contacted me again after that last text, I never ever felt in danger physically when I was with him, but better safe than sorry*

first date foibles

We had arranged to meet at 8PM at XYZ restaurant in DTLA. I had texted him my ETA (right on motherf*cking time) as I was leaving my house. I arrived just at 8, and had parked and was walking up to the restaurant at 8:05. When I entered the restaurant, it was moderately fine dining, and the host asked me if I had a reservation. I said I was meeting someone and I wasn't sure if he was here already. She offered to walk me through the restaurant to see if he was already seated. The restaurant and bar had only a smattering of people, so it was easy to see he wasn't there yet. We retreated to the lobby where I sat on the bench to wait for him. I texted him that I was at XYZ restaurant. He replied he would be there in 5 minutes.
*try not to be annoyed that he knew your ETA, it was now approx 7 minutes after the appointed time, and he still needed 5 more minutes to get to the place HE chose*
Ok, no prob. *waits* 

Another text:

Do you mind if I stop at the ATM real quick?

*try not to be fucking annoyed that he didn't take care of that BEFORE the date that he arranged*
*text girlfriend for moral support*
*take a deep breath and reply*

Reply text:

Are you fucking kidding me

You're already late of course I don't mind waiting longer

First you make me drive to you, then you are late, now this???

Ok.

 *texts girlfriend again for moral support. she urges a second chance; maybe he's nervous*

He calls.... no, he didn't mean for you to wait in the restaurant! Of course he wants you to come with him! And then you can decide where to go for dinner as we walk to the bank. *deep breath and smile*

We start to walk a few blocks to get to the bank/atm. He is tall and handsome and charming and walks on the outside and opens the door for you at the bank. Ok fine, let's overlook the first foible.

We decide on a little taco place that he likes because it is female and latina owned/operated and he likes supporting those types of businesses. *ok that is sweet and the right thing to do* Plus the tacos are to-die-for delish. I think, well, even if this doesn't go well I've learned of an amazing new taco spot. (Chicas Tacos) But it is going well. We are noshing and chatting about all kinds of things, connecting, finding common ground. He is redeeming himself posthaste.

We sat at that little red table.

Now Chicas doesn't serve alcohol, so he suggests walking to a bar he loves, if I'm open to spending more time with him. I am. We head down to Rudolph's Bar & Tea at the Freehand Hotel. It is gorgeous. Totally decked out mid-century modern (my fave) and they have specialty cocktails made with tea. Strange, but still pretty tasty. We have a drink there and are still having a great time. About halfway through the drink he attempts a kiss. Uhm, NO. Hold your horses bro. I tell him I don't kiss on the first date. (yes, sometimes I do, but as a rule, I don't. If you want all the reasons, that will have to be another time. I could give a whole dissertation of male/female expectations vs reality and hyper-sexualization and unsubstantiated intimacy) I can now see through the lens of hindsight that this was my first red flag.

From the get-go Dan was very affectionate. Holding my hand, touching my lower back, etc as we walked down the street. He said that was so no nefarious characters would mess with me. *sweet* At the restaurant and the bar, he is very complimentary. You are so sweet, so funny, the smartest woman I've met in a very long time. I can see this working out. I feel quite flattered, and my ego is massively enjoying the adulation. This is what I want, I think. I want a guy who thinks I hung the moon! My gut is nagging me though. How can he feel this strongly when we have spent barely two hours together.

He wants to go to another bar. They have live music, and we are having such a good time. We leave Rudolph's and walk to another bar I cannot remember the name of. I have a second drink, he does not. We laugh, we snuggle in a booth, we have a great time. He is still very vocal about how he feels about me. It almost makes me uncomfortable, because I am so unaccustomed to hearing such honeyed words.

It was late, and longer than I usually spend on a first date (gotta leave them wanting more, right?) so Dan walks me to my car. At the car, I am swayed, plus I really want to, so I give him a smooch. It is nice and he asks when he can see me again. (It is a Wednesday) and I tell him Monday. This is not some BS where he has to "earn" weekend dates (yes apparently some gals do that), I was just truly busy every single night till Monday.

Second red flag:

Oh so you're one of those girls.

What do you mean by that?!?

One of those girls who are always busy and I never get to see you.  

He starts to back away as if to leave.

No, wait! *why are you shrinking from me; we are having a fantastic time* I'm just actually busy this weekend until Monday. It just happens to be that way this week. Some weeks I am crammed busy, some weeks I have literally nothing going on outside of work. My schedule can be really varied.

Oh, OK. Well I guess Monday it is then. 

We agree that we will touch base to make a decision on what to do closer to Monday. I offer to drive him back to his house. That is when I find out that the reason he gave me the XYZ restaurant to meet at is because it is in the first floor of his apartment building.

YOU LAZY MOTHERF*CKER YOU DIDN'T EVEN LEAVE YOUR APARTMENT UNTIL I TEXTED YOU I WAS WAITING FOR YOU???? FUCK YOU. But of course I don't say this out loud. I have had a wonderful first date and if this is his only fault... well, that really isn't so bad. Nobody is perfect, and I am willing to embrace certain human flaws, especially if they can be fixed.

He promises the second date he will come to me...

bumbling through bumble

In a most likely misguided attempt at making dating better, I tried a different app. Because, you know, a different app will have different results. Riiigghhhhtttt. Anyway at least with bumble they make you feel like you, as the woman, have some power in the situation. Which of course is not true. You are just forced to make the first move, which in my mind only encourages the laziness of men because they can just sit around and wait for you to message them. *run on sentence* *don't care*

This is not supposed to be a rant about the laziness of men in the dating scene. Fuck.

OK! So I matched with Dan* on the bumbles, came up with a sufficiently witty opening line, and he actually replied! Woohoo! Win #1 in the horrible land of dating apps. What a sad commentary on the state of dating that even getting a reply is a reason to celebrate. ugh. (bitter betty party of ONE)

conversation started! hooray!

Dan is tall, handsome, and seemingly super smart. A VR software engineer, masters from USC, varied interests that include art, science, music, politics, etc. He seems dreamy on paper (well, on app). We message back and forth a bit on the app. He still seems pretty amazing. Smart, funny, and most important - he is actually responding and engaged in conversation. I let myself get a little bit excited about possibly meeting someone in person.

how do I do what?

We exchange numbers and continue with our messaging via text. We don't just message forever and never actually meet in person. He actually asks me out!! Truly a feat in and of itself. Now, I've been stood up 3 times just this year, so as far as dates, I believe it when I see the man in person.

He lives and works in DTLA (downtown Los Angeles) and I live in the San Fernando Valley. For the rest of the world that doesn't live in Los Angeles, this city is so large that you feel like you have a long distance relationship if the person lives more than about 15 miles away from you because 15 miles in traffic can take over an hour. We here in the city of Lost Angels always talk about dating someone that is "geographically desirable." If the person lives too far away, you will literally never see them. The love of my life might be in Los Angeles, but I will never know his adoring gaze because he lives in a neighborhood on the other side of town.

PERSONAL TRADE AREA. Don't live in this box? buh-bye

YOU'RE. You might be geographically desirable but you're not grammatically desirable. 

Dan takes the lead (thankfully) and arranges for the date. He asks me to meet him at a particular restaurant in DTLA. We might not actually go there, he says, but there are a ton of places in walking distance and we can decide when we meet.

Now normally I would prefer the guy come to my neighborhood, or at least meet in the middle, but I am so excited to actually have a date (can you tell that most of my matches don't ever come to anything???) that I over look this small transgression. Besides, DTLA isn't outside my acceptable geography. I agree to the terms of the date and get ready.

Showered, fluffed up, dressed in a casual but cute first date outfit complete with "walking heels" I make my way to downtown...continued in the next post...

Definition of "walking heels": When I lived in NYC women had two types of heels: walking heels and taxi shoes. Taxi shoes are usually sky high, sexy, and completely impractical. Walking heels are reasonably comfortable, suitable for dancing the night away, traipsing through the streets while still retaining a sense of femininity and sex appeal. 

taxi heels

walking heels

a year and a half later...

I think I got tired of posting the same shit wrapped up differently that I stopped posting. Dating sucks. Blah Blah Blah. Work sucks. Blah Blah Blah. And even less interesting, I have a great job and a boyfriend. blah blah blah

I suppose I should have worked harder on making my life different or more interesting, but instead I succumbed to the monotony of shitty dating in LA and eking out a living wage. Which I must say, earning a living wage in LA is no small feat when you are doing the side hustle jobs and your "career" doesn't have a straightforward trajectory like more classic choices. And said "career" doesn't exactly "pay" when you are not "famous." Or it does "pay" but the "pay" is "deferred" until the film/show/short/webseries/whatever makes money, which is usually "never."

Anyway, I digress.

I have been dating, and working a job that doesn't suck. The dating, well, that pretty much has stayed sucky. I have been stood up THREE times this year and ghosted I couldn't even tell you how many times. I am absolutely sick and tired of guys who just don't even seem to try. Uhm, hello??? We matched, we chatted, and then.... *poof*

Or we match and don't even chat before *poof*

I long for the days where a guy actually had to come up with the nerve to call you. At least then they were partially invested and had a small iota of follow through. Maybe it might even culminate in a date!!

Pretty sure this is how old timey phones worked.

ANYWAY I say all this to preface the next post where I will regale you with the tale of crazy-pants Dan* who managed to hide his crazy for nearly 3 full dates before it came out faster than a dick-pic from an online troll and with more 180˚ turnaround than a bought-and-paid-for politician after election.

*name changed to protect the crazy. 

new chonies

I got an email this week from a popular sweatshop-made underwear store (I'd tell you the name but then it wouldn't be a Secret...) telling me I could get new underdraws for the bargain price of 5 for $15! Three bucks a pair? Extending the time between laundry drudgery by five glorious days?

Plus, Vicki usually charges $28 for five pairs of drawers. I am a frugalista at her finest, and saving $13 was enough to make me brave the mall and all the trolls and kids and other horrible excuses for humanity that reside there.

I head straight to the undie store and weave craftily among the women with strollers and toddlers, the ladies clutching their winning scraps of fabric, only to realize that the "deal" underwear was a clever ruse to get me in for their semi-annual sale. And since the sale has been going on for a while all that was left of size medium were the strangest, ugliest chonies you ever saw in your life. And far too many "bride" rhinestone encrusted lacey bits. I even looked through the other sizes to see if somehow some magical set of size medium cute (or even wearable) skivvies were hiding from me. Not a decent foundation garment to be found. F*ck you Vicki, you lying vindictive little con artist. (Bitter Betty, underwear-less party of one)

Since I was at the mall, I figured I should at least stroll around to a couple of the stores and see if anyone had any wayyyy after Christmas sales where a thrifty princess could find some swag. As I swiftly mall-walked I realized if anyone heard the thoughts in my head I could be put away in jail, nay, solitary confinement in jail.

The middle-aged couple stumbling along, managing to take up the entire walkway weaving about, would have been stabbed in the head to be out of my way. The angsty-goth twenty-somethings I mentally shoved into the cement fountain. The darling elderly couple who stopped completely blocking the path between sweaters at the Gap would have been punched in the neck. The women unwrapping the noisiest hard candy in Macy's would have had the mint shoved down their throats and choked to death.

I'm a really nice person. Ask anyone. Super nice. So when I was mentally cursing the designer of the escalators and their insignificant pea-brain for installing them opposite of how I would have I knew it was time to leave.

This is why I rarely go to the mall anymore. This is why online shopping is great. I like being not in jail. And slow, inconsiderate, annoying, f*cktards can still go to the mall in peace.

kissing frogs

My Romcom-in-Real-Life Romance was short lived, as Hank* was unable to follow through on his romantic gestures. I was disappointed to say the least, but at least I found out quickly.

Next came Tony*. He was a tall, successful, ruggedly handsome business owner who seemed to think I hung the moon. I was really warming up to him as well, and considering our future options. We had been out a dozen or so times, when Hallow's Eve's Eve gave me a fright! We were hanging out at a bar talking with some people we just met. The election was quickly approaching and out it comes that Tony had already voted absentee/mail in ballot for HitlerVoldemortTrump, a man who scares the bejeezus out of me. A man who has a life-long reputation of being a sexual predator and a scam artist of a businessman. A man who regularly makes racist comments, and (at the time) had two pending trials in the next couple of months for fraud and for the rape of a 13 year old girl.

I told Tony that we needed to just not talk politics (so I could consider what to do with a guy I like who is obviously morally at odds with me). We talked about other things. We left the bar and were headed back home when we passed by a Hollywood iconic hotel and he asked if we could hop out for a drink in the hotel bar. Sure. More drinks sounds like a swell addition to this evening. At the bar, we started talking with the other people bellied up, and lo and behold Tony brings up Trump again! I am pretty drunk, so things get pretty heated. Long story short, I got so mad I got up and left him there! uhmNOthx buh-bye you can keep your selfish reasons for voting for evil.

Next was Johnny*. His online profile pix were dapper and handsome. When we met, his IRL self was moderatly attractive, but I felt no spark at all. On the plus side, we had a blast hanging out! He was hilarious. After 2 beers, I was ready to leave, but he doesn't ask and orders us another round. ...ok... well, I won't be rude, he is sweet, I'll hang out. After beer 3, I say I really must leave, and he very sweetly walks me to my car. I go in to give a polite hug, and he shoves his tongue down my throat. Dude. Johnny. I gave you no indication that I was open to that! Ugh. Next.

Finally I met Tyrone*, a gorgeous tatted up former musician turned real-job-holder. He was funny, smart, not voting for Trump, and seemed to be really my type. We had a first date that turned into practically three dates. Charming, sweet, and seemingly into me. Until he reaveals on date two that he is moving to Phoenix at the end of the month, but if things go well, we can fly back and forth on the weekends to "romp" and if things go really well, maybe more. Well call me flattered, you want to be FWB with me? Ugh. #ByeFelicia

I feel like I'm on an episode of MTV's Next.

But you gotta kiss a bunch of frogs to find your prince, right? Pucker up and kiss it...

*names changed to protect the frogs

offsides chick

Sometimes I google old boyfriends. Just to see. Not my proudest moments, but... whatever. Like you've never done anything embarrassing. I'm not sure what made me think of him, but the other day I decided to look up Chris (fka "Todd" on this blog, but I don't give a shit about protecting his identity anymore). He doesn't do social media except for his sportscaster personality page on FB and a work twitter. And he has a common name so even if he did, I wouldn't necessarily be able to find his personal accounts.

After we ended things back in January 2015, I saw some tweet that made me think he was dating his co-worker the traffic gal at his TV News station. The tweet just said she was pretty, which could have been nothing, but... my gut said otherwise. At the time I wondered if he started dating her after we broke up or if she was the reason for the breakup. Of course she also has a very common name, so I can't find her anywhere on social media either except for her professional page... until the other day when I decide to google their two names together. *side note - I should teach a class on google stalking* And I find their "The Knot" page. They are getting married this summer.

I quickly click over to the "about us" section and see they have been dating since approximately May 2014. Chris and I dated Sept 2014 - Jan 2015. I even double check my old calendar to make sure. Yep. There's my flights to Seattle, his flight to LA, our dates, everything. I feel sick. This is the guy that wanted to spend Christmas with me and my family. But is also the guy who also wouldn't tell his parents about me because he "didn't like his parents nosing in his relationships."

And for a little light reading...

Here is the post about when we met.

Here is the post about our "first dates".

And the one where we were over.

Now the thing is, I was good with the whole situation. I had long ago made peace with the fact that we were not supposed to be together, that long distance was a much too difficult way to begin a relationship, that I deserved someone who made me a priority. I still feel that way. But now it is thrust upon me that I was inadvertently and unknowingly a side-chick.

did NOT know. *facepalm*

Mostly I feel badly for her. I don't know if she knows about me. I don't know anything about their relationship, but in general by the 5 month mark things are fairly serious and perhaps the "L" word has even been bandied about. They would have been dating about 5 months when he started things with me and seemingly juggled two "schmoopies" for a while. If it were me, I would want to know.

where is all started, and the happy couple

For their sake I hope I was a one-time-couldn't-resist-my-charms-fell-momentarily-in-love-but-then-realized-the-error-of-his-ways fluke and he is true to her now. As for me, I'm going to review my intuition see if it needs an overhaul.

swindle-bots

The Tinderland adventures continue....

Recently I have noticed some guys "about me" sections are filled with bitterness about why bother writing this section when this app is all about looks, and how they keep matching with "bots" and are there any real profiles on here, etc. One guy in particular apparently matched more than once with a girl whose phone mysteriously stopped working and wouldn't you mind going to my website?

insert credit card number here...

I feel only slightly lucky that there don't seem to be such "bots" luring the women.

First of all, who do these men expect to attract with their bitter-betty attitudes? And second, these guys are usually not very good looking. No looks and a shitty attitude? No wonder they only match with people trying to sell them something!! And clearly they have no brains either because they fall for it...

well.


Dear these men,

On a scale of 1 - 10, you are clearly a 4. Maybe even a 6 on a really really good day. If you match with a woman who is a 10+++, you are mistaken if you think she really likes you. Capitalists are everywhere, and as one can tell by the absolute infinite amount of porn on the internet, every advertising campaign ever, and the website www.sugardaddyforme.com, they especially prey on men who are thinking with their dicks.

Maybe next time work on your attitude, take a trip to the gym (or 20), and post something about yourself someone might want to know, not just how you have been swindled. Oh, and maybe just maybe, if she looks like she's out of your league, she is.

Sincerely,
Every woman in your Tinder feed

all the playas in the house STAND UP

I'm still on Tinder... (sighs)

But despite the fact that Tinder for women is 99% fugly-dudes and Tinder for men is a gorgeous-lady-playground, I remain hopeful that I can find my prince on this thing. I've been dating a couple of guys from there, and one of them is even a front runner for titleholder "boyfriend," but I find it best not to put all my eggs in one basket.

In my profile, I say I'm only interested in meeting in person, so don't swipe me unless you want to meet me also. So when I matched with a moderately-not-unattractive guy and his first message to me was

I'd LOVE to meet you in person!

I replied with

I love that you'd love to meet in person!

He hastily got to the business of setting up the date. We exchanged numbers and began texting. I was slightly put off because he called me "babe" in his first text. But... I am nothing if not forgiving. (hey! stop laughing!) He suggests coffee, I offer to meet in the afternoon, and he asks if we can do morning instead. My only morning plans were a yoga class, so I decided to forgo my ohmshanti in favor of ohmcoffee. He tells me just to tell him where to be and he will be there.

Showers, puts on make up, picks a cute "just threw this on" outfit...

 #wokeuplikethis

*cut to: Starbucks, 5 minutes before the time Tinderman McJerkathon requested*

I enter Starbucks and look around. He's not here yet. Hmm... do I wait so we can order/stand in line together? Or do I just go ahead and grab a coffee and sit and wait? I opt for the second one and grab a table outside in the shade. I check his Tinder pic one more time to make sure I know what he looks like. I peruse Facebook. I check my bank account balance. Look at email. Check the time. 10:05. He's late. Harumph. But only five minutes. He was coming all the way from Malibu, after all.

I look more at Facebook. Damn I have a lot of friends with kids on the first day of school. 10:10AM. No text, no message, no call. WTF. This guy is getting five more minutes and he better have a damn good reason for being late.

10:15AM MOTHERFUCKER. I SKIPPED YOGA CLASS, GOT DOLLED UP AND PAID $5 FOR COFFEE AND YOU DON'T EVEN BOTHER TO TEXT ME TO LET ME KNOW YOU'RE NOT COMING??? A litany of "expressive" texts come to mind but I don't send one, because you know the second you snark out a text an even better one emerges in your head. I fume the whole 5 minutes home.

I mean, what the f*ck??? He's the one that wanted to meet me. He's the one who picked the time. He's the one who didn't show up!?!?!? I look just like my pictures. If he drove up and saw me it's not like he would be surprised by what I look like and have second thoughts about meeting me.

Never in my life... Finally I decided to just take the high road and all I did was unmatch from him on Tinder. Jerk.

Call Me Sherlock

I am a little too good at cyber-stalking. I mean, researching online. If there is something to be found on a certain someone and I want to find it, I will. It's how I found out last year that my ex had a new girlfriend almost immediately after he dumped me. It's how I found out that a different ex (who somehow in five years of dating was never able to take me back home with him) took the very next girl to his high school reunion. I figured out who a guy was from OK Cupid with just a username and a picture. I am very very very good at finding things.

Found them!

But sometimes things are best left un-found.  I may or may not have had a drink or three and cyber-stalked browsed around my ex Todd's social media, which led me to his friend's social media, which led me to a post I really didn't want to read. Ugh!! Bob Newhart really says it best: "Stop it!"

Watch the video. Six minutes of genius. A good reminder to us all.

history lessons. also known as LIFE ISN'T FAIR.

Just to back-track a little bit and give you a brief history, nearly 11 months ago when I was in love and atwitter, my then-darling and I went to a timeshare presentation in order to get a free trip to Hawaii. He desperately wanted the free trip, as he has never been. It was three days and two nights, and they pick the flight, the accommodations, etc. So basically you have the chance of being dumped in Hawaii at 6PM Tuesday evening and leaving 6AM Thursday (yes it HAS to be tues - thurs) And yes, friends, that is ten hours of flying for possibly 36-48 hours of time in Hawaii. Not worth it in my book. But I was in LERRRRRVE, and so I went for it.

Now, to see the time share, you had to qualify. One of the things to qualify was to be over 30. That made only one of us qualify (me). So the trip is mine, technically... A VERY long story short, we called and emailed and courier pigeon and stalked them for a couple months before we were able to nail down the soonest possible date: Sept 2014. About a year away...

Cut to Jan 2014 - My sweet darling rips the rug out from under my feet and the heart from my chest and breaks up with me. So, I do what any woman would do. No, I don't key his car or start a smear campaign on Facebook (although the thoughts crossed my mind). I cancel the romantic getaway to Hawaii.  These free trips are very strict. You cannot change your travel partner, your dates, your anything once it has been set.  There is no way in H-E-DOUBLEHOCKEYSTICKS I am going on a romantic getaway to Hawaii by myself, and there is NO FUCKING WAY I am going on a romantic getaway to Hawaii with my got-a-new-girlfriend-within-three-weeks-ex-boyfriend.

Well, he emails me not too long ago asking about the trip.  "Were you planning on going? I am." uhmmm, WHAT?? Did you forget you dumped me and my trip to Hawaii?

Anyway, he got really hurt that I didn't consult with him before canceling "our" trip and wanted me to apologize for not asking him if it was ok for me to cancel the trip. Last I checked, you were MY plus-one. Secondly, how on earth did you imagine that conversation going???

him: Hey, you still planning on going to Hawaii? I am.

me: Yeah, I'm going.

him: Cool. Wanna share a taxi to the airport?

me: Sure. And since we're sharing a plane and a hotel room, why don't we join the mile-high club?  

or how about

him: You still planning on going? I am.

me: No, I think that might be awkward. You go ahead though. I was the injured party, but your narcissism trumps my broken heart. 

him: Cool, thanks. Want me to bring you back a lei?

or this

him: You going? I am.

me: No, I'm going.

him: No, I am.

me: NO, I AM.

him: NO, I'M THE ONE THAT WANTED IT MORE, IF YOU DON'T GIVE IT TO ME I'LL NEVER SPEAK TO YOU AGAIN AND CRY LIKE A LITTLE BABY.

Fucking idiot.  How did he ever think there would be an amiable outcome to a trip to Hawaii between exes? Here's a clue, there isn't. So take your $50 you paid for the taxes on the trip and go find yourself a timeshare presentation where you don't have to be at least 30, and get your own damn trip. You can even take your new girlfriend.

And I'll be here, Bitter Betty, party of one... so sexy. Maybe I should post this to my online dating profile...

I think I need a new horse

I recently posted that I am "back in the saddle" of dating, and it is completely disappointing that it is the same crap that I dealt with the last time I did online dating.

No, overweight, troll-like 56 year old, I do not want to go out with you.  

No, dude who lives in Indiana (probably with his wife and kids) I don't want to get to know you better. 

No, guy who is more than 10 years my junior, I don't think we will have anything in common. 

Where is the guy who lives reasonably close to me (duuuude. all the hot guys live near the beach, about 45 minutes or an hour drive away from me. I don't do long distance), is reasonably hot (99.9% of the guys on this site are bfug), is reasonably tall, (as in over 5'11") and has a reasonable amount of brain cells floating around in his noggin (shall we say... more than two)?

If you know of anyone who fits these criteria, PLEASE, PRETTY PLEASE email me or facebook me or twitter me or write a comment here or send me a fucking courier pigeon.

Or I'll just adopt a few more cats and be done with it.

I already have two... it wouldn't take much. 

back in the saddle. yee-haw.

What does a girl do to get over the ex-boyfriend blues? Reactivates her online dating profile. (largest sigh possible)

...DOUBLE SIGH...

So. It's been one day and two emails from guys I wouldn't even dream of dating have already emailed me! I feel so popular. And as I was scrolling through the pictures of guys using the app's equivalent of "hot or not" --

-- you can swipe through people's pix, rating them on a 1-5 star level. *slides into black hole and disappears for hours*

The thing is, there are so many fugly people that the average ones start to look not so bad. It is kind of the same effect as beer goggles except you're home alone, sober, swiping at your phone.

So how does one meet guys these days? I don't want to spend every weekend at the bar. You spend way too much money, get a beer belly, and lose half of the next morning to a hangover. I don't love dating online - you have to sift through all the ones that you are not compatible with/not attracted to/are only looking for sex/have mommy issues/etc.  And even once you find one or two dudes that you might deign spend time with, most of the time the spark just isn't there. The older I get, the more my dating pool dries to a puddle.

Anybody have any attractive, available, sane guy friends? That make me laugh? That are at least 5'11"?That have a good job/business, are interested in getting married, don't have kids, don't have any weird hangups, likes my cats, likes to travel, can cook, has friends, and might want to take me out????? Kthx.