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

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!!

Douchery: Part Two

Remember that one time I joined Tinder? I was flabbergasted by the number of atrocious profile pix I encountered in the first 24 hours of membership. There were so many I didn't want to overwhelm by putting them all in one entry. You can see Douchery: Part One here, and read on to see the rest.

These are by far more horrifying than the ones you've already seen. *shudders*

Y'all keep in mind this is his MAIN PHOTO used to attract members of the opposite sex. Eww. I do not want to see your little black curlies peeking over the top of your pants nor do I need to see the outline of your manbits in the fabric. This is so much more offensive than your standard shirtless picture. Dear darling idiot Jacob, I almost hope you thought you were posting on Grindr not Tinder, because that is who it looks like you are trying to attract.

My guess is Sergio has a small penis. Why else would your main profile picture be a phallus gun? Also, if I were to go out with him I would be more than a little scared. If you advertise yourself as a gun, I worry that you are abusive, controlling, and an asshole. No, no, not all gun owners are these things, just like #notallmen rhetoric. But not all gun owners put their gun in a place their face should be.

Look, I am not a prude (well, maybe a little) and am cool with whatever y'all want to do to each other consensually in the privacy of your homes. But in "public"? In the everlasting world of the internets where things NEVER DISAPPEAR??? Obscene. And what is it with guys with armband/tribal tattoos wearing women's things? (see my prior post if you haven't already)

Yes, that is a man wiping his ass with the American flag. It was so unbelievable that I had to look twice too. Let me be clear - I am the first to fight for free speech. My mother is a librarian, for chrisssakes. I have never been through a nudescope at the airport because I feel it violates my rights. I have the most extremely opposite views of Westboro Baptists but would fight for their right to speak their minds; and I love that we live in a country where we can all say what we want and not go to jail for it. All that being said, I do not want to see someone basically taking a dump in front of me on a dating site.

So maybe it is reallyreallyreally important that you let me know you own a gun, or that you shit on America. You can have up to six pictures, put it in as number three or four. Or even better, write about it in your bio. I know, you only get 500 words in the bio section and a picture is worth 1000, but sometimes brevity is best.

This guy

Several friends told me I had to open my search a bit for some new manmeat, and actually join a 'pay' dating site. (sigh) FINE.

I've been on about three weeks now, and after the initial flurry emails and winks from being the new girl, I'm now down to searching and doing the winking myself.

Here's (nearly) every dude's profile:

Down to earth driven guy who loves being active, I love staying in and watching Game of Thrones and I love going out with friends. I love hiking, working out, and I love staying in and cuddling on the couch. I'm looking for a fun laid back girl, who loves to have fun and also loves to chill. She has to be fun, but also fun. We have fun together. She has to be laid back, but also exciting. I also want her to be gorgeous and pretty, but doesn't take long to get ready. And we have fun and are laid back together. 

In reality, he's overweight and ugly, and probably boring. OK, that last part about being boring, I don't know unless I meet you. But your profile is boring.

Until... this guy.

First of all, 41??? Bahahahahaha right, sure, uh-huh, buddy. Let me buy you some sunscreen, because obviously you have never used it. Like, ever. Secondly, you're looking for someone 18-27? Gross. You have kids. You could even have a kid that was 18 and it wouldn't be weird. And you're not even divorced. Berf.

I'm already sickened. But then I read your biography section.

Thanks for telling me what I like, buddy because as a little lady, I sure as hell didn't know on my own. We females don't have that many brain cells.

Just so we're clear, if I were to ever tell you "I won't sleep with you" it means if you were the last person on earth and the human race depended on us procreating, I would feel very sad that there would be no more people.

Let me tell you Mr. Rape Culture Embodied, you are part (and in fact, perhaps even the spokesperson) of the "freakishly large percentage of loser guys," which is why you hear "I won't sleep with you" so often. You are an affront to women everywhere.

Tell me, did you write your profile as a "how to" for men or to try to attract women? I can see why you prey on younger girls. You are looking for women that don't know any better than to allow themselves to be manipulated by a misogynistic asshole looking to set a poor example for his children.

All I can say is, no wonder you are separated, and I hope that your wife gets those divorce papers signed soon.

the masochist's diet plan

For those of you who are looking to lose a few pounds and don't mind a little torture, have I got the diet plan for you! I lost four pounds in 24 hours! All you have to do is eat some spoiled, pooped on, e-coli, salmonella food!!

*berf*

The only thing I can pinpoint that might have caused my unexpected weight loss was a bagel and cream cheese. It tasted fine. Maybe a fly pooped on it. Maybe the lady didn't wash her hands. Maybe I touched a door handle with bad germs. Whatever it was, a few hours later I was shopping for my boss in Target and all of a sudden that awful feeling came over me...

Uh oh...

So I'm in the seasonal area, and I can barely stand up without seeing stars. I have to sit down. Oh dear. I sit and wait, concentrating on breathing, for an employee to come by and ask where the bathroom was. "oh it is just on the complete other side of the store about as far away from here as possible - might as well be on the moon!" Greeaaaat.

I stumble about one aisle at a time, pausing only to keep myself from passing out. I finally make it to the bathroom... and it is being cleaned. Seriously.

Anyway, the bad news, I couldn't leave that Target for about an hour and had to stop twice on the way home. The good news is after about 24 hours I was good as new, and about four pounds lighter.

So next time you need to fit into those skinny jeans or wear a swimsuit tomorrow, just eat some tainted turkey, curdled cream cheese, spoiled salami, or gross gouda!

Who needs Weight Watchers!?

patchouli.

aka barfouli. aka stinkouli. aka gagouli. aka worse-than-old-lady-perfume-ouli.

I apologize to anyone that might wear the stench perfume patchouli, but the malodor feels to me like someone hot boxed some incense in my nose and the hot box was made of stabby things up through my nostrils to my brain. And for some reason 99.99999% of the people that wear patchouli put so much on that you can smell it from about a mile away.

granted, any perfume that you can smell from over 20 feet away is an affront.  I think this every time I pass an old lady that has been wearing the same perfume her whole adult life and now can no longer smell it/takes a bath in it. But for some reason, when someone has slathered themselves in patchouli (as happened this evening) I feel as though I am being assaulted.

Tonight this woman was wearing being owned by patchouli and it was all I could do to be around her without gagging. I tried as politely as possible to keep my hand around my nose so I would smell my own hand rather than her, and also kept as far away as possible, taking care to hold my breath around her and then make sure to breathe OUT first before breathing IN after I had left her general vicinity (and by general vicinity I mean a 25 foot radius) so that any smell that had snuck up in my nose might be expelled before I had to breathe in.

seriously, I want to tell anyone that thinks patchouli smells nice. just don't. If you must enjoy it, buy the incense sticks and burn out in your yard/patio/balcony/wooded area. But PLEASE, PLEASE keep it away from me. It smells so fucking foul that it makes me want to run away from you. And you might be a very nice person.

gahhhh I feel violated...