Meow or whatever

Dating profiles...reading through them is like being in a bad dream. You keep hoping you will wake up, but then that scary guy with the cross eyes shows up and calls you baby. Creepy. True story.
Some profiles are ok, yada, yada they like music, hiking in parks and spending time with the ones they love. But, then they show pictures of themselves in bed, or half naked and you are wondering if they own any clothes. I like my dudes to own clothes, because otherwise when they meet grandma it's awkward.
And..who the hell can't spell the town they live in? I mean since when is Baltimore a word open to interpretation. I don't know if it's Ball, but I'll make it Ball. Learn how to freakin spell. And if you don't have autocorrect on  your phone, cuz I know that's what you dumb shit used to fill out your profile, then you are using a flip phone and I don't have time for your living-in-1999 ass.
Witch. Not that I have been called one...but it's actually a word used in the profile of a particularly frightening individual last night. But, used as..."I have a job witch I enjoys."
If these profiles are from guys who are supposed to be putting their best foot forward, what the hell happens when they aren't "tryings to win u over". Is that when you use actual grammar and spelling.
And...I am loving the word And tonight. Since when do the guys come out blatantly and ask you for meaningless sex. What happened to a couple of conversations before you ask me to be your "love thang". Because if the dating profiles aren't enough to question the direction of the entire human race, the emails that result certainly are.
On the flip side today, I sort of responded to an email I got from a sort of normal looking guy..I think all I said was thank you to polite compliment he gave me, and the next thing I knew. (all in one email)
"Have you lived here all your life?
"What's your favorite flower"
"What's your favorite song?"
"Do you like walks in the park?
"What do you do?"
"You make me smile"
'What do you like to eat?"

I haven't replied back to that one. I'm afraid that his second question may be a proposal.

On the plus side, I've decided to be a cougar. Not like the school mascot. Cuz, that would be weird. Like an actual female cougar, cougar. I've got style, sophistication, a desire for plastic surgery and life experiences to teach a much, much younger man. Why the hell not? I'm not ready to date someone who has to put in his teeth in the morning. Might as well see if with younger guys I will have more luck. Meow..or whatever kind of noise a cougar is supposed to make. This time I mean the actual animal, not a female cougar. Keep it PG 13 here people.
I'll keep you posted. Later peeps.

Yada, yada, yada....I am single again. I'm not going to dwell too much on this..since, I am already over it. And by over it...attempting online dating again.
But, in case you were wondering. The last thing he said to me was that I basically failed to give him what he wants. And that was someone who would devote their entire life to him, and never, ever under any circumstances have something else going on. Like life. Or kids. Or a phone call. Totally weird. So, there is 3 years of my life I can't get back. So, we move on.
And I have. I am back on Match.com and Zoosk. Trying to avoid the prostitution black market of Plenty of Fish. So far so good.
Here is my run down/update of the two sites I am on. Match.com...only those who really give a shit pay the money to play. Everyone else tries to add their phone number as their profile name.
MikeGuns8675309 is sort of a tip off that you are a cheap bastard. If you aren't willing to pay for love, I'm guessing you aren't going to like when I order the lobster ravioli. And if you use the word Guns in your profile, I am going to assume you are a serial killer and avoid you.
My favorite email that I received this weekend was from Flyboy..who normally, given my affection for pilots, who have peaked my interest. However, Flyboy sent me an email earlier in the week, which I ignored...because he is not ever close to my target demographic.
I've learned that even a nice "Hey, thanks...but no thanks" doesn't go over so well. So, for dudes who are not to my liking...they get ignored.
Well, Flyboy did not like being ignored As a matter of fact, he is very upset and cannot believe that I am already not "being truthful and honest in our relationship". Apparently, he is not one to judge..but, the "facts are loud and clear".
Well, this is the first time I have been accused of a being  dishonest in a relationship, that I wasn't in. Go figure.
Zoosk...way too many things I can do to guys. Like..like them, carousel them, chat, or be interested. I am ADD. This is too much shit to keep track of. Although, there are some really hot guys running around. Just saying.
I can't freaking believe I am doing this again. I am about this close to contacting one of those arranged marriages chicks. Eh, who am I kidding marriage is the last thing I want. I just want someone to mow the grass, kill the bugs, snuggle me at night...and not bitch up a storm. There are other wants in there, but this is the PG13 version.
Love the one you are with peeps...love isn't easy. But, let's have some fun.

I don't think that's from KFC

I think it’s time to move my focus away from the breakup and onto new topics of discussion. I’m not really ready to date…but say I was. Maybe I need to take better precautions this time to screen out suitors for possible deal breaking qualities. You know mitigate my risk of ever ending up dating anyone with the emotional IQ of 5. Hey look, I get that my emotional IQ is 25. Still higher than 5 though.

So, I feel like I need to incorporate some more screening procedures into the search.

 

1. Home Visit: They do home visits for security clearance. Why is this any less important than national security? Maybe he is a hoarder. Maybe he hasn't vacuumed in 2 or 3 years. Maybe he still sleeps with a Buzz Lightyear pillow. Does he have a secret roommate who lives under the porch. Is his roommate still his ex-wife. Does he even have a room? Or is this a sleeping on someone's couch kind of thing.

All really, really important things to know before you start dating someone.

 

2. Family Tree Review: Say he is related to Jeffrey Dahmer. You may want to know this. Because your are dating a couple of months, he says "Hey, wanna be my date to the family reunion?"  If he is from a nice Polish family from Baltimore, that's no problem. If he's from a family with a cannibal...you might not want to go eat fried chicken with them. Just saying.

 

3. Technical Skills: I don't want to go so far as to ask for an Excel test...But I'm talking like basic 2015 kind of stuff. If he says, "write your number down on a piece of paper".  You may want to assume that he's probably carrying around a flip phone from 2001. And any cute picture you want to send him, is going to take so long to download on that thing...you might as well mail it. Yes, mail. You know that thing we used to do with stamps. If your middle name is Apple. This might not be the best match for you. Hell, if your middle name is anything that starts with a letter of the alphabet, this might not be the best match for you.

 

This is just a start. There are lots of behavioral tests we could give, reference checks. It would be like getting a job. And I am good at running background checks. If he had even run a red light in Hoboken, I would find that shit.

I mean, like I said. I am really not ready to start dating yet. He may be tearing up the dating sites. But, I sort of still need to get over it. He apparently already is over it. Kudos to him for being able to forget the last 2 1/2 years, minus the two times he went on a Boyfriend Leave of Absence. We won't talk about that.

But, anyway peeps. Thanks for reading, and if you are loving the one you are with. Remind them. The grass isn't always greener on the dating side.

 

 

Happy Valentine's Eve

I'm a firm believer that you should keep your crazy to yourself. I personally keep my crazy locked up in the attic duck-taped to a chair. She's usually pretty content, but last week she got loose after using dental floss and one of those blue pens from the bank.

So, she got out. And flipped her shit. Crying, carrying on, texting, more crying and screaming about Kanye's shoes. It was not pretty. I'm not sure what Kanye had to do with it, but the real reason she broke free is because of a series of events starting Valentine's weekend.
Let's flashback, shall we? You are getting sleepy, you hear my voice, keep your eyes on the really big watch...wait, not that kind of flashback. Just keep reading.

So...Valentine's Day was Saturday. And because my daughter is a freakin fanatic for hockey these days, she talked me into taking her and a friend to Wilkes-Barre to see a game Friday, the 13th of February. Which is in case you didn't know, is not Valentine's Day. I was excited. It was going to be a great time. But...the boyfriend let his crazy out in time for the holiday weekend. And chastised me for RUINING VALENTINE'S EVE. WTF? When did Valentine's Eve become a holiday. So, I checked with my psychotherapist who is the authority on these types of things. And he confirmed, there is no official sanctioned holiday such a Valentine's Eve. I was freakin spending time with my kids. My teenager, who actually wanted to be seen with me in public.
Boyfriend shows up Valentine's Day. With roses..sweet. And cards. Also sweet. And...a giant stuffed Yoda that says Yoda the One for Me. WTF? Ok, am I the only person who thinks the bug eyed green guy is not the way to express your love? Maybe I suck, or maybe I graduated from high school in 19 FREAKIN 90.
And again, maybe this is why I am divorced.
Anyway...lovely Valentine's Day. I made him a cake, presents...yada, yada. Valentine's Day annoys me. I like to buy the kids stuff, but as an adult...give me a freakin break. Nothing says love like spending $59.99 on roses. Blah.

So, now we are at post-Valentine's Day. It starts like any other day. And it ends like any other day. We got to bed. Kiss goodnight. I'm out in minutes. Around 1 am, I wake up. My phone is dinging. I forgot to turn off the ringer, and it's school notification night. I'll get about 30 emails with info on the kids grades, attendance, etc. He says "what's wrong?" I tell him I am going to to turn it off. I mean the ringer. He thinks I mean the phone. I never turn off my phone. I go back to sleep. He does not. He stays awake ALL FREAKIN night long, obsessing over the fact that I have to be seeing someone else. Because why else would my phone go off the way it did. And WHY would I turn it off.

I keep sleeping. At some point, I start to have some naughty dream about another guy. Or so he says. And I call out a name. At which point he is convinced I am DEFINITELY cheating. And cheating with a guy named Rick. I don't even freakin know a Rick. I don't even have a crush on a celebrity named Rick. At least not since 4th grade. Do you still know all the words to "Jesse's Girl"? I do!!

Next morning he leaves, barely says anything to me. I think he's just grumpy going to work. Day goes by, no text. He must be busy. Then that evening he sends me a text that says "I'm none too happy with you and I'm not sure how it's going to play out". WTF does that mean? How it's going to play out. So, I ask what I did? I am clueless at this point. Then he tells me.

So, you are telling me that now I not only need to be worried about hurting your feelings while I am awake, but you are going to hold me accountable for what I do in my freakin sleep. I am a messed up sleeper. Always have been. I talk, I scream..apparently, I also go on dates with men. Hope he was good looking and had some cash. Dream sugar daddy is still a sugar daddy.

I am not down with this turn of events. I decide to stop talking to him. For a week. I told him why. I wasn't a total bitch about it. But, I was mostly disgusted that I had to have a conversation like this. I am freakin 43 yrs old. I do not have time for this shit. I have a couple of people depending on me for you know...their life. I work hard at my job, and I try to keep my shit together so that my house is clean, I don't smell and we are not in danger of getting a child protective services knock at the door. That takes a lot of effort. Bullshit whiny dream paranoia is not on my to do list.

During the course of not talking to him, I get sick. Sinus infection. It was bad. All I did was sleep and cough. He wanted to come take care of me, I said please don't. Here's the thing. I am a 43 (yes, I do realize I keep saying that) mother of two children, who hasn't really keep up with those kegel exercises all those damn gynecologist keep telling you to do. Let me tell you something...they say, do them while you are sitting a stop light. Do them while watching TV. First of all, while I am sitting at the stoplight I am trying not to beat one of the kids, because they keep changing the radio station or trying to sync Bluetooth. I don't watch TV. I occasionally get to watch television while I am laying down in bed, for the 30 seconds before I pass out from exhaustion. And the last thing I feel like doing at that point is contracting one more damn muscle.
So, because my kegel exercises are lacking. I piss myself every time I cough. And who the hell wants a girlfriend who pees herself like 40 times a day. I mean not even wearing Victoria's Secret can fix that. It goes against my whole need to not smell. And I told him not to show up. More angst, more drama.

Now flash to this past Tuesday at 10:06 am EDT when he texted me the words "it's time...it's over, "
Well, it took me like 3 minutes to figure out what the hell was over. Was he at work. Did something happen with Obamacare?
Next thing that I know, my crazy girl shows up...starts texting all sorts of shit. May or May not have set fire to that bug eyed green thing. I freak the hell out. In retrospect (which sounds like a very smart literary word) it was an over reaction. What ever. But, since then I have sort of berated him daily via email...and after a week he has responded back., He thinks I want a cat, not him. Meow baby. Not sure what the hell that means, but I do prefer self-hygiene in my pets. Why did I freak out. I am sorting that one out. The psychotherapist thinks it's because he fired first. Eh. I don't know. But, I'm not sure I give a shit at this point. I'm allergic to cats.

So bottom line friends, is that I am single. Again. And that is ok. I'll continue to take my hockey fanatic to games, and maybe do the online dating thing. Or not. Sure, it messes up a couple of plans I had for concerts, but I am sure i can find somebody to go see the Foo Fighters with me.

Life keeps on going, And, I am totally not doing a Kegel exercise right now.

Push My Buttons

So, here's the deal. Let's rip it off like a bandaid. I got back together with the ex. Oh, I know...there are so many ways this conversation can go. But, bottom line. I love the guy. He is sweet and loving, and makes me feel good...and alternately pisses the crap outta me. 

It's been nice to have someone around who worships the ground I walk on. That ain't a bad thing. There are worst things in this world. 

My friend Lisa had a tragic accident happen to her son. Horrible, senseless and life changing.  And I thought...wtf? Life is so short. And I couldn't imagine never seeing him again. So...back together we went. And it's been good. Actually better. But...

Here I sit now( actually I am standing, cuz it's closer to the wine bottle) two months later, furious because he has the emotional intellect of a 17 year old boy...maybe 17. The number 12 feels more appropriate. 

He wants to talk about everything. Every feeling, every emotion. Me. I want to provide my opinion in 5 words or less , move on and forget the conversation ever happened. Hello. I am an Army Brat. I only speak when spoken to, and then with the bare minimum info. The dog ran fast, is about as complex a sentence structure as I get. Ask me my feelings about something and I may bust out a PowerPoint presentation with citations and white paper examples, but you ain't gonna hear what I really think. But, that's not the real reason I am singing along to the Les Mis soundtrack and canceling my   Brazilian wax. It's because of what happened next.   

AND THEN.....my use of capital letters makes it seem more ominous...his ex girlfriend who is his best friend came up in conversation. I thinks she's trash. And told him that. Way to go me for speaking my mind!!! But, he thinks that I think, because she is trash...so is he. Although, his very association with me makes him above that...he won't let it go. I've told him, fine...hang out with her but I don't want to know about it. 

What does he do tonight? Sends me a text telling me he is going over to see her to yack. At first, I thought...ya'll are gonna throw up together? That's weird. But, guess it was Yak...and yack. Who knew. 

But, I have an issue with this. Don't freakin tell me about it...and you're too busy to see me, but can go see her. Really? How lame is that. Plus it feels like my buttons are being pushed. Trust me I know I have HUGE buttons, and they are like the Staples Easy button...but still, not like you have to touch it. Yeah, I know it says easy. 

So...here I am. Again. Boys are dumb. 

I'm Yelling Tinder!!!

Tinder!!!! Where the hell is Pittbull when you need him?

I read this article about how the Olympian's are all using a dating app called Tinder. So, of course...I immediately thought, Well, Hell....if it's good enough for a highly tuned athlete in an international country, competing for the biggest prize of their lives, it's good enough for me!

Let me first say, that it's way too soon. I have no desire to date. But, I love a dating app like I love booze. Like I love a frosted donut. Like I love any joke that makes fun of a Kardashian. Have I mentioned yet how I think Bruce Jenner looks like Billie Jean King? No disrespect to Billie...but come on, Bruce is seriously channeling the 1970's.

But, of course...I digress. So, Tinder. There was like NO ONE under the age of 25. It was a plethora of guys, who I am pretty sure are IN HIGH SCHOOL!!!!! It may have been the backpack selfie in the bathroom that gave it away...but OMG. I may exaggerate slightly. I did run into Ron, who was 39 and wearing an Aeropostale t-shirt and a greasy comb-over. Or William who is 49, and in his bathroom selfie, is wearing a suit (no tie), but complete with hands in pockets, self assured pose...standing near his toilet. Wait, did you notice I used a big word back there...plethora. Thank you Master's Degreee!!! I'm pretty sure that as I was running through my list of "local" men...that I ran into at least one co-worker's son. Nauseous, is sort of how I am feeling. And slightly pervy. All I did was look, and they are just normal photos...I mean this isn't porn, but I feel yucky. They are too young. Or I'm too old. I don't know...but it's weird. I did not see any Olympian's, especially since it only picks people in your area, and clearly they are not hanging in Lebanon County, PA. And not just because we are in the middle of a Snowapocalypse.

I think my little experiment to look into Tinder scarred me for life. I may never date again. At least not by any app that people who have defined leg muscles, and clearly defined waists use. I'm just setting myself up for failure with that one.

Hey...if you like the blog, Pass it along to your peeps. Readership is currently 12, and I love all of you. Muffin basket in the mail. Promise, mean it. But, I would love to try to expand this thing. Call it my hobby, since I don't have a boyfriend anymore and my children think my love for showtunes is weird. Share it. I promise to make you laugh.

Papasan is a funny word....

The next time I decide to break up with my boyfriend five days before my birthday, somebody freakin stop me, or at the very least buy me a case of sparkling beverages, sushi and enough ice cream to last more than 24 hours. I did not break up prepare myself for my birthday...and as a result, spent the better part of the day in my bathrobe shopping for area rugs on ebay. Sure, I made sure I was drunk...but a martini can only do so much for you. Yeah, I can't believe I wrote that either.

On my big b-day, the ex texted me a rant and rave about how I went about breaking up with him. But, I stand by the Brext. Hell, he should be appreciative I did it by text. Every other time I've broken up with a boyfriend, I did it by just moving. Like away. To another state. Shoved my papasan chair into the backseat, TV in the front, clothes in the trunk and off I go. Done. Break up initated. I even left my husband that way...although in my defense I did take the kids with me that time. No papasan chair. Didn't have room. Insert sad face emoticon here.

Break up's are hard. And, I am way more comfortable delivering bad news in a way that allows me to either hit a convenience store for beef jerky or turn off my phone. That way there is no crying, no questioning and no confessing that they secretly watched me sleeping because they were waiting for the snoring to stop. There are just some things I don't need to know. And think about all the other ways I could have done the breakup. I could have posted a message on his Facebook wall...."Feel free to update your relationship status to single". Or, I could have written a message on his windshield in shoe polish...."Honk, I just got dumped". I could have sent him a selfie from a date I was on, with the note "Btw this is not you. " But, that would have been rude. Embrace the Brext. It's no trip to South of the Border, but it works.