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

Romcom-Reallife

All I learned about love came from cheesy 80's movies, where men vie for the attentions of unattainable women, nerds get the hot girl/guy, bad guys get the good girl, and if you pester someone enough they will fall in love with you.

Nerdy (hot) Patrick Dempsey was willing to spend his hard earned cash for a pretend girlfriend.

Lane was willing to nearly kill himself skiing for Monique

Many moons ago I was engaged to a guy who broke things off, then we got back together, then broke things off, then got back together... and so on, and finally I ended things because of my reasons. But I always held out hope that he would come chasing after me and (in the figurative sense) show up outside of my sister's wedding in a porsche 944.

But, heart-crushingly, he did not. Fortunately with time and wisdom I see that it all turned out for the best, but there is that little 80's kid part of me that still wanted to be worth storming a castle.

Well, last fall I dated a guy Hank* for a few months, and he seemed to be quite the catch. Handsome, funny, considerate, loves animals, liked me... and then he couldn't handle being in a relationship at the same time as having a sick and dying dog. So, things fizzled out. I was really sad, but hiked up my big girl panties and moved on.

Well, the beginning of the year marked a Happy New Year text from Hank, and then he proceeded to spend the next few months "liking" my facebook posts and photos, and then it all culminated with a facebook message (not a text, even though surely he still had my number) that he would like to take me out for dinner. When he returns from working in Boston. In four months.

Uhmm... OK? I mean, sure? Not sure what he wanted from dinner. So I waited. And waited. And then finally a phone call asking me to dinner. I agreed, not knowing what he wanted. My best guess was he felt badly about how things ended and wanted to make amends so that we could "be friends." Sure, buddy, whatever. I had said everything I wanted to say when we ended things, but he didn't really, so maybe he was just holding on to that and needed closure. I figure, free dinner is worth letting him feel better about himself. So I go... and really nothing prepared me for what I was met with.

Hank basically fulfilled my every 80's movie fantasy by letting me know he took full responsibility for how things ended and that he wanted to date me again, if I was willing to date him.

holy sh*t

This is basically what dinner looked like:

the movie where I learned the sax is sexy

I was floored, to say the least. And he was leaving the next day for a trip, then back to Boston for work. But he wanted to fly me to Boston for a date. Lawd have mercy. Every 80's fantasy rolled into one. We ended dinner with me needing to collect my thoughts, and him getting on a plane.

What is next for Hank and I? Not sure... but even if it is nothing, my inner 80's kid is glowing, knowing she is worth fighting for.

Nobody puts Baby in the Corner

*y'all know I never use real names, duh. 

Take me BACK!

You might remember that I thought one of the tinderdudes was going to be boyfriend material. I was going to write the whole saga, but then I realized it was long and drawn-out and I didn't want to give any more effort to a guy not worth my time.

Borrring

Let's just say he couldn't handle life and a relationship at the same time and leave it at that.

As I return to the tinders however, I am rethinking things and considering begging him to take me back...

the little tyke just won't stay down...

His "about me" is incomplete. It should be "...camping, fishing, reading, football, ... drowning small children."

At first I thought he was attempting a funny face (and failing) but after looking at the rest of his pictures I realized his face got frozen this way. His mother should have warned him.

He's 34... right. And I'm 17. I mean, there's someone for everyone, right? Even vegan satanists. I'm pretty sure the southern Baptists I grew up with think everyone in California is like this dude.

And this guy I'm fairly certain is homeless and lives near the freeway underpass by my house.

Dear Tinderdude that was almost my BF,
PLEASE for the love of all things Tinder, take me BACK!!!
Maybe you'll grow up one of these days and be a man. I'll take my chances! Thank you.
Sincerely,
Willing to Settle (but not totally)

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

breaking up is hard to do-o

So from Tinderland I found two seemingly normal-ish guys. One is well on his way to becoming my hunka-hunka-burning-love

and the other is sweet, funny, cute, and just... not the one for me. Our dates are always fun, I enjoy spending time, and if there were no one else, I might even keep hanging out with him just for shits and giggles. But for the most part, he is the one driving any communication or dates.

Well, now runner up is wanting to take things to the next level - not just drinking and having fun but he wants to cook me dinner and take me on a trip out of town and I want to do those things with my winner-winner-chicken-dinner! (pun intended)

So now I have to have a break up convo and we haven't even had the be-exclusive convo. Ugh.

To make things worse, runner-up and I have never talked on the phone. We have texted, we have hung out in person, but never talked on the phone. *side rant about dating in this day and age*
So now that means I either need to break up via text or in person. Well, I can't break up via text. That's just too much. Which means I have to do it in person. Which is THE WORST because now I have to go out on a date with him again in order to break up with him! I don't want to go out with him anymore!

I mean, its really his fault for making me have to break up in this way. He's the one that never called me, and we all know the guy has to call first. He's the one forcing me to strike the brutal blow right to his face. If he had just called me at least once, I could now call him and break up over the phone, like a civil human being. Because this is what happens when people break up over text.

Granted, I could just text him this video and see if he gets the hint...

Down, doobie doobie, down down...

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.

OohLaLa

For those of you who are blissfully unaware of the Tinders - maybe you're married or cohabbing or living under a rock - let me give you a sneak peek into the WTF world of

App Dating

Tinderland, where you look at someones picture(s) and whatever they have chosen to share or not share about themselves (in 500 characters or less) and click the red X for "aww HELL no" or the green heart for ummm maybe yes, but if we get to know each other a bit I still might say "aww HELL no". 

Some of my more scintillating options

If you both select the green heart, you match! Which means you can now message each other! And if they are not what you expected... then you can unmatch from them and they can no longer see your profile or talk to you. 

Recently I matched with a moderately handsome guy Jacques* whose 500 characters or less said

"Made in France. Living in Los Angeles."

 He started chatting with me. Here is an approximation of the conversation:

Jacques: Hi

Jacques: Can I ask you some questions?

Me: Sure!

Jacques: Have you ever been in love?

Me: Yes. Have you?

Jacques: No.  But I hope to.

Me: It can be wonderful. 

Jacques: What makes you unique?

I started to think... wow, these are great questions! Way better than the usual "'sup" or "how are you" or "how's your day been". My interest is definitely piqued!

Me: I'm funny, loyal and a great listener. 

Jacques: I'd like to continue, but this app is a pain. Do you have OhLaLa? It's better for chatting.

Me: I don't even know what that is.  :/

Jacques: Do you have iPhone or Android?

Me: Android. 

About 2-3 minutes go by... nothing. so -

Me: What brought you to LA? Does your family still live in France?

At this point I have email to attend to, so I leave the app for a couple minutes. When I return - 

He is gone. Unmatched. Without a trace. Buh-bye. I mean, if it was so important that I have an iPhone with some mysterious OohLaFancyPantsFrenchChattingApp, he should have specified in his profile. Harumph.

*didn't change his name at all.

Renaissance Romeo

WELCOME TO TINDERLAND

Where unlike Vegas, what happens here gets spread all over the interwebs. 

so Tinderland has some *ahem* unique folk wandering it's fertile grounds, and I was matched with one whose prose was more like poetry. We'll call him "RR" for Renaissance Romeo. Here are just a few delightful excerpts from our tinder-messaging:

"I speak three languages; English, Joy and Appreciation." 

"Appreciation is the fuel by which all relationships thrive and ascend. Find a way to consistently appreciate those who you share heartspace with and it is amazing what occurs."

"Then before your head prepares to caress the pillow, please allow me to say thank You; I appreciate You for writing, being playful and setting off a very sweet spark within. I wish You a peaceful night's rest. " 

I quickly determined I could never date someone who spoke so ridiculously, but also that I needed to meet RR to see if he spoke suchly and thusly in person, or if he was just a regular guy masquerading as a wanna-be Shakepeare. I felt a little deceptive leading him on like that, but inquiring minds wanted to know! And by inquiring minds, I mean me and my friends. ...And by me and my friends, I mean mostly me.

We tinder messaged for a while, then switched to text message, and still his words were more like a sonnet than the usual text abbreviation/shorthand "hyd" (how ya doin) "LMFAO ur funny" "laughing my fucking ass off, you are funny" "ttyl" (talk to you later) that one sometimes gets.

Finally we spoke on the phone, and I was a little disappointed that RR spoke like a regular dude, with the exception of a word here or there. I had gotten to the point that I was really hoping that he would confabulate in iambic pentameter. Alas, he did not. He did, however, finally make good on his tinder profile where he espouses his ability to make people laugh. I legit belly-laughed at least four times. Maybe this guy could be a good match after all...

And then... the other shoe dropped. I have written in my profile that I am looking for  a guy who is 5'11" or taller, and RR asked if that was a deal breaker. It isn't totally, but it kind of is. My "research" into this Tinder-rrific gentleman and what he is like in person had gone this far, so of course I said, "No! I've dated guys shorter than that. I just usually am attracted to taller men." To which he replied, "Well I'm an inch taller than you, I'm 5'8"." The possibility that RR might actually be a keeper poofed away as quickly as it was created. "Oh, well, you're taller than me. I'm sure that's fine!"

We meet for coffee the next day, and not only is RR mistaken about his height (he's maybe 5'7" if he stands up super straight), but the shirtless pic of himself he posted was clearly from when he used to go to the gym. But he is charming, sweet, funny, and I find myself having a great time! And then... I see his hands. His little, tiny, baby-hands. Oh NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! I cannot. I just. CAN. NOT. do baby hands. Little chicklet fingernails and tiny digits that are only good for needlepoint and other small crafts or maybe for making sweatshop clothing. But I am on this coffee date, so I just try to keep my eyes up.

And, oh god, there's more. RR has a daughter. Who is 24. Who is only three years younger than his last girlfriend. Who is like totally Mensa genius level smart. And who supports herself as a semi-nude model. But her modeling is all really tasteful. And he is so proud. Of his semi-nude-model-mensa-daughter.

RR's career is befitting such a Unique dude. He helps people with SOUL EXPANSION. What the fuck is that? I don't know. I would have asked (ya know, "research") but I was fairly certain I would dissolve into a fit of giggles and that's just rude. I'm not sure why I care about that... When he had previously alluded to his job in our phone conversation, I was so thankful we weren't facetiming or skyping, as I had to hold the phone away and stifle laughs when he told me. He's a rambler, so it was fine that I couldn't reply due to stomach spasms. He just talked on and on about how amazing he is.

I genuinely began to regret the resarch-date when RR asked if we could "go deeper." and would I like to "lead the dance" or shall he? *cue another involuntary stomach spasm and herculean effort to keep a straight face* This is when RR began to espouse his "brilliant" thoughts on soul expansion, loving, relationships, etc. I truly learned his love of his own voice and theories at this point, when he rambled on and on for about a half hour or forty-five minutes about who-knows-what *cue glazed eyes and insipid smile* needing no response save open eyes and a heartbeat from his conversation partner.

The next day I was racked with guilt/didn't want to play this game anymore and texted him to "break up".  He tried extensively to convince me that I would grow to love him over time. I had to tell him 8 ways to Sunday that I just wasn't into him, without mentioning his delusions on his height, his incessant ramblings and his teensy-itty-bitty-baby-hands. It was exhausting.

I've only heard from him once since, just to text hello. And if I never hear from RR again it will be

“Double, double, toil and trouble; Fire burn, and cauldron bubble!”

no butts about it

Tinder likes butts and they cannot lie
These pictures can't deny
when a man swipes in with a nudie pic and a butt crack in my face I swipe LEFT. 

because ewww. gross.

I'm no Sir Mix-a-Lot and these guys shouldn't have put it all out there for the interwebs to have until eternity.

Bedbug - er, butt

Muscle butt

You can pick your friends, you can pick your butt, but please don't pick your friend's butts

Sudsy butt

butt selfie

butt ring

Beach Bum!!

Fly away, little trolls

Redbull Tinder gives you wings, apparently.

I saw maybe 3 or 4 guys with these "wing" pictures before I started snapping screenshots. They are almost as prevalent as dude with dog/tiger/kid/faraway land pictures.

I mean, really? Ugh. Get me some Redbull, stat, so I can fly the f*ck out of here.