The Good, The Bad, and the Slightly Scary

It’s been a week since my return to the world of online dating. I’m taking a whole new approach this time around. Kind of revolutionary for someone like me who was kind of standoffish in regards to most men until my little epiphany. I don’t need to be searching for the one, I just need to be out there having fun, experiencing new connections, laughing, learning, unburdening myself of my all-or-nothing mentality, and not only being open to someone grand coming along, but also being fully in the moment without thinking this next one could be anything more than a great dinner date for the night. Or not. They’re not all sparkling conversationalists.

So, ladies, you know what it’s like being a woman in this day and age. We are completely inundated with the most debased characters on the block. It can be a bit overwhelming the way our days are comprised of looks, comments, and an onslaught of attention just by walking by. And men don’t get why that’s unflattering. I automatically qualify for sex simply because I was born with a vagina. I know, completely shocking that constant sexual attention wouldn’t make me feel the slightest bit special. I should instantly drop my soaked knickers and hop aboard. I don’t mean that figuratively, either.

Anyway, as expected, my message box started filling up immediately upon my return to OK Cupid. Immediately. I had three new messages in five minutes. That would be fine and dandy if online dating wasn’t like deep sea fishing in the middle of the night. You might catch a good one here and there, but mostly, you’re reeling in those fucked up quasi-monstrous creations with a light bulb growing out the top of its head or something.

Oh, and…cue the pee pee pics. Let’s start with a couple of those.

Specimen A55H0L3

This fine masterpiece has the epitome of THE Golden Penis.

Let’s look at the thought and artistry that went into this picture. We can tell from the orbs of golden light emanating from his…well…orbs…that we are not dealing with the average, run of the mill man here. Oh, nooooo. This is the cream of the crop. Instead of choosing the typical ambiance of a romantically lit bedroom, this innovator of erotic pictures chose the toilet as the catalyst to showcase his manliness. See how his head is thrown back in ecstatic glory? Come…devour him…now…before he wipes.

Specimen D0UCH3C4N0E

Here we see what can only be described as terrifying. The amount of veinage (I know it’s not a word, just roll with it) that can be seen is indicative of a man-meat on the verge of exploding. And probably not in the good way, either. Nope. Nope, nope, nope. Let us also take note of his inability to purchase underwear that fit properly. Dude, they’re boxers, briefs, or boxer briefs, and they’re all designed to fit a certain way.

By the way, these two came to me without so much as a hello. The newest trend seems to be to send a link stating you’ll find out everything you need to know about a person by visiting. And it’s never a song or pretty picture of a sunset. Note to self, when sent a link to follow to, do not go there. Just never, ever, ever, ever go there. Ever.

It’s mostly English, and it mostly makes sense.

But this is a bit much. No, actually, this is a LOT much. Too much. I understand the sentiment to try to be original and flattering, but he’s one step away from proposing when all I need is a hello to get started.

Also, based on strictly looks isn’t the best way to gauge your compatibility with another. Flowery prose isn’t fooling me, buddy. I’m onto your Jedi mind tricks.

I’m worth three goats and a pot in his country.

If I can’t drive to see you in two hours or less, I’m probably not going to invest much time. But, in his defense, he does seem rather nice.

Then there’s this guy.

I’m growing increasingly annoyed with the messages that come through like this. What is it about owning a scrotum that makes men lose their ever loving mind when it comes to common decency?

And then that brings me to the one connection I’ve made which has moved offline. Not in person yet, but we’re texting, and he makes me smile, and that’s something that should never be taken for granted. I enjoy quick banter and lively conversations which this guy is capable of providing, and that’s the point of serial dating. At least to me.

Just hours upon hours of silly fun times.

This is sweet and fun and entertaining. It’s nice. I’m continuing to talk to this one a bit more for now. There’s something about a guy who makes me laugh that holds my interest a bit. Life is far too short for anything but as many smiles as possible. So we’re being silly and funny and laid back, and that’s really faboo to have. No pressure, just some smiles.

Disclaimer: Jorge is aware that I’m blogging my dating experience, and has given full permission. He, however, has no idea where my blog is, and he’s not invited too far into my personal space (ie: Facebook, email, etc) and is okay with my serial dating status.

Thus far, my dating experience online is very much like what it has always been. The only true difference is my perception and approach. I am not carefully combing profiles and withholding responses based solely on how I don’t feel any vibes off the bat. I’m not looking too deeply into certain factors that I used to cling to as my reasons for not giving anyone a chance. And when I do go out, it’s without any expectations and without any nerves. I don’t really care how it goes, though it obviously would be groovy to enjoy myself. I’m just living in the now and putting myself out there while my heart remains safely tucked inside my back pocket until someone catches my interest enough to start considering more. The only thing I know for sure, the boy will know how to spell.

And maybe, just maybe, he’s out there somewhere wondering where the hell I’m at.

First Dates and Escapism

He seemed legit. Nice and well-mannered. Articulate and hard working. Cute in the way I’m cute, which basically means neither of us look our age. And I’d decided to become a serial dater after my heart took a bruising recently. I’ll get into that more in a bit.

I wore my shmexy little black dress. The one that makes me look like my legs are longer than they are and pushes my bewbs into the forefront of the conversation. I can’t really help that last part, though. They’re there, and anything short of some medieval torturous bewb-binding isn’t going to change that fact.

I put on a pair of adorable heels. I applied my eyeliner meticulously. I paid extra attention to my hair that I decided to leave long and flowing.

And he showed up in scruffy shoes, a wrinkled tee shirt with old, stained jeans and a ball cap he didn’t remove once.

Okay, I’m not exactly shallow. But, you know, first dates are for good impressions. I think. Aren’t they still? I mean, if they’re not, can you clue me in so I know what to expect?

I smiled and joked and carried the conversation. I just let my natural exuberance come pouring out. Because it’s difficult not to let that happen. I cannot be contained! The conversation…oh my. It was painful. I thought perhaps asking questions and trying to ascertain some similarities would be prudent. THERE ARE NO SIMILARITIES.

I’m not going to bore you with the evening. Let’s just say as I spied to see him tip, as a bartender/server/hospitality industry career girl extraordinaire, that was it. I was finished. Who the hell tips 9% these days? AFTER I talked about how I’ve taught my children to be good tippers, etc?

And that’s after the conversation about how he wouldn’t possibly have helped that girl who was stranded the other day because it took an hour out of my time to work on my own schoolwork. I said, what if I gave you a chocolate bar to do so? Okay, maybe for chocolate. Which means NO KINDNESS. NONE. He’d require compensation in order to do something nice. Wow, I can imagine the horror of spending more than a week involved with this guy.

And he stared at my bewbs the entire time. I can’t blame him. I mean, seriously, they’re pretty fanfuckingtastic. But am I wrong in feeling like he should at least pretend to not be sitting across from me practically salivating like Pavlov’s pup ready to devour a steak?

Yeah, they were there to be seen, but these eyes are kind of spectacular, too.
Yeah, they were there to be seen, but these eyes are kind of spectacular, too.

So I got out as quickly as I could with an awkward little hug, and immediately decided since I was all dressed up, I was damn well heading out to enjoy myself even if I needed to take a test before midnight (which I made an A on, thank you very much) like an Academic Cinderella.

Cue Chris, one of my most favorite humans. To the rescue, he came, armed with a Captain America shirt and plenty of laughter.

“I just need you to know I’m talking to your breasts more than to your face.”

“Yup. I know.”

He walked me down the stairs arm in arm, settled in beside me, and spent an hour and a half making me feel right as rain again. He just has an innate ability to get me. And he knows I’m gonna feel amazingly complimented when he says, “What turns me on about my girlfriend is what turns me on about you. You say you’re gonna do something, and you damn well do it! That’s so rare.” because it means he views me as a person of my word. A person of integrity and determination and honesty.

So we discussed quite a bit, and I thought about a lot on the drive home. And I realized what the major problem was this evening. I felt absolutely no connection. No draw. No pull. Not even for friendship. I felt nothing but this need for escapism. And I’m aware, fully aware, that I can feel that pull.

My last relationship (albeit, incredibly brief) taught me a very valuable lesson. I am one hundred percent capable of meeting someone, feeling an insane connection, and going for it. No fear. No hesitation. I can trust in my instincts and follow them. I can trust in those instincts and remove myself from a relationship when I feel certain that energy has been removed. Not on my end, I was still invested. But I knew when the change happened, and it happened as suddenly as it had originally just been there.

That relationship also taught me to maybe, perhaps, possibly keep myself from investing too much into one person until enough time has passed that they prove themselves because he just might have an ex girlfriend who sees him moving on with his life via social media and decides she wants him back, and all those pretty, pretty words will be the words he’s giving to her instead of you. And that in itself is fine, too. I’m incapable of being angry over it. One of my friends can’t figure that out. I tell her I’m not upset, and she says, “I KNOW! YOU’RE SUPPOSED TO BE, THOUGH! THAT WAS SHITTY! YOU DON’T DESERVE TO BE TREATED LIKE SOMETHING SO DISPOSABLE!”

Yeah, she really is passionate, and I like using caps to convey her frustrations with me.

Serial dating, that’s where it’s at. If I’m asked out, I’m going. And even if I dig the guy lots and lots and lots, I’m not committing anything beyond a carefully guarded little flame of hope which is hidden behind hawk eyes paying attention. I won’t be caught off guard, and he’ll have to prove I actually matter, really, truly matter. And not just for now, but a month after that, and a month after that, and then another month after that. Until I know I can trust him to give some of that deeper part of me without him tossing it away like it’s a grocery receipt in which all the groceries have already been devoured.

And in the meantime, I’ll just keep saying yes to the offers to date and let myself enjoy being out there even if the path leads nowhere. The sights along the way are sure to be worth the wrong turns and empty gas tanks.

Not Just Another Meat Hole

I suppose you’re reading because that title just begs to be looked at a little bit more closely. I mean, look at it!

Here’s a  little clarification. I’m a single mom of four kids, three are teens. I’ve been married twice. Go ahead and arm yourselves with stones to throw at me. The catastrophe that is my dating life is actually quite comical. It’s the basis of every Lifetime movie of the week that they’ve yet to make.

Don’t believe me?

My marriage dissolved because my ex is crazy. Not the kind of crazy most normal people are, but the kind that got him locked up in a mental ward crazy. The kind that meant I went through years of abuse at his hands before I could get away. But I did get away. I’m coming up on five years free in just a couple weeks.

After that, the Cliff’s notes version of my dating choices goes as follows: I caused a nine hour standoff with state police because I actually chose another crazy violent person, for serious. I broke up a marriage because I actually believed someone. I was told I was the greatest thing since sliced bread by one…until his ex came back into the picture…an ex that up until she came back was a non entity according to the first-date interrogations where it was stated it had been years since anyone had affected him at all, thereby making it feel incredibly safe to follow along on the beautiful path he was leading us on. A relationship of a few months ended two days before my birthday because he had a nightmare that revealed to him he couldn’t handle a mature relationship with me. Yes, he dumped me right before my birthday because he had a bad dream. I could go on. It’s all been bad. Really bad. But I suppose you should consider how those guys seemed like the optimal choices because they said the right things and did the right things and seemed like the right choices. Until they weren’t.

So here I am again, still navigating my way through possibly finding someone to enjoy life with. A mom, employee, full-time student has limited time to connect to men, so internet dating is the most logical choice. That, obviously, is a hit or miss, mostly miss, type of situation. It’s creepy, too. It’s like grocery shopping for a mate, and men want to squeeze my melons before they know my name.

Here are a few of the more colorful messages I’ve received over the three years I’ve been on again, off again, on again with my endeavors over at OkCupid.








And then there's this gem. Which, coincidentally, isn't alone in his attentions.
And then there’s this gem. Which, coincidentally, isn’t alone in his attentions.

Yeah, that’s what I’m up against. But!! Here I go again, anyway. Wish me luck.

The LeeAnnimal Goes Rawwwr!

I have no idea what I want to put here, I just couldn’t stand the generic post that they had here regardless of my input, so I had to change that.

Ready for a front seat ride in my dating adventure where I set out to prove I’m more than just some random meat hole? Yeah? Good…buckle up, and let’s go 🙂