Photos you should never post to your online dating profile

We’re SUPPOSED to read each profile carefully to determine goodness-of-fit. But let’s face it, the first thing we do is scope out those pics. So here are a few tips to help you get your profile in tip top shape (Mark, Grant, and John).

1.  No ten year old photos of yourself. You’re fooling no one.  Also avoid pics with excessive alcohol (see below):

image2.  No bathroom selfie (FYI, I’m covered in a honey treatment for my hair. Very sticky and very gooey.)

image3. No half-naked men shots. Just don’t.

image4. No photo of you doing something that doesn’t make sense (like eating a bug).

image5. No group shot. Boring!

image6.  No pic with your ex cropped out.

image

Crazy little thing called love

I’ve noticed a new trend popping up on Tinder.

Men posting profile pictures with them posing with models.

I have one thing to say about this:

Why?

I get that models are beautiful women.

They’re photogenic and look amazing.

But really?

I don’t want to see a future boyfriend posing with a HUGE smile on his face while he poses with these models.

It makes me think that they’re modelizers and looking for the same in a partner.

Legs for days and a face to make the angels weep.

Since they don’t seem to have a clue, I’ll give them a big hint about online dating profile pictures:

We want to see you with your dog, having fun with your best friend, perhaps even a family shot with the kids.

But NOT with models.

Which is why I like the newest man to email me.

We’ll call him The Giant.

He’s Scandinavian and Scottish with a hint of German in him.

He’s also 6’3” which isn’t something I look for but it certainly doesn’t harm his sex appeal.

The Giant and I have a lot in common.

More importantly, we reviewed our red flags together and I’m happy to report he is a monogamous man with lots of hobbies and interests who has been divorced for several years now and has a good job and education.

However, as vanilla as he sounds, he has friends in the alternative community and he would easily fit in at Burning Man, unSCruz, the Bare Burn, or a naturist resort.

He’s open-minded, which I like.

Wish me luck.

I’m trying my hand at this crazy little thing called love.

Again.

Cut Throat      

Ever since my renewed experience with ghosting, I’ve become a menace at swiping left on Tinder and closing dead-end connections.

I’ve developed a method for weeding out inappropriate men:

  1. Do I want to swipe right when I see their picture(s)?
  2. If yes, then I review where they are from.
  3. If they are 25 miles or less from me, I read their profile (if there is one).
  4. If they are married, polyamorous, ethically non-monogamous, in an “open” relationship, not looking for a LTR or looking for hookups, I swipe left.

I’ve been feeling like a cut throat dater lately because I’ve been REALLY GOOD at closing connections that are dead ends (see above list).

One guy called me a pet name RIGHT OFF THE BAT, which I hate!

I am ‘sweetheart’ to my friends and family but a stranger has to earn the right to call me that.

Forged intimacy is a no-no in my book.

I closed the connection with him.

Another man clearly lived WAY TO FAR AWAY (don’t know how he missed my filter), but I quickly closed our connection as well.

It pays to filter your connections post swiping too.

Sometimes you wind up with someone who is just visiting the area and looking for an easy hookup.

Their profile looks good but they’re not local.

I close those connections too.

It’s not as if I need MORE ENCOURAGEMENT getting involved in long-distance relationships, despite the fact that I’m really looking for someone local.

Everything is closer than Sweden, however.

Now, as soon as the first red flag goes up, I cut bait and run.

Pics with guns.

Donald Trump supporters.

Flaky texting.

Dick pics.

All these things set off my radar and I exit quickly once I’ve beentriggered.

I’m not being bitchy, I’m being efficient.

I’m a cut throat when it comes to internet dating.

Federally f*cked

In my haste to recover from my recent ghosting by the new guy, I met a Federal Agent.

On Tinder, no less.

He was tall, handsome, with a BIG chest, a thick beard and a completely bald head – just the way I like.

He was also in town investigating the Garlic Festival shooting.

What are the chances?

I can’t seem to escape from my connection to the shooting, FYI.

Fortunately, we discussed other topics.

Like how much we like our jobs, what hobbies we have, and our families.

We also flirted.

Heavily.

That’s what happens when you’re really attracted to someone (who sadly turned out to represent all my issues).

I sent titillating photos (nothing nude though because he’s a federal agent and I’m sure it’s illegal to send nudes to a Federal Agent).

He may have reciprocated.

Given my love of sexting, we MAY have had a phone call to talk dirty to one another.

It ended well.

The next day we were chatting when I realize I forgot to ask if he’s married.

Hint:  He is.

Totally unavailable.

The very DEFINITION of unavailable.

Also, the definition of a waste of my time.

He asked if I still liked him.

No, sorry.

I’m not here to judge but I don’t believe in getting to know someone romantically who is already attached.

It never ends well.

Ghost

The new guy is gone.

For those of you who were happy to see me with someone, who sent kind messages of support, thank you.

It’s been a nice two months.

But it has come to an end.

I wish I could give an explanation as to why.

Maybe we were not suitable for each other.

Perhaps someone else entered the picture.

I could hazard a guess but the bottom line is the same.

The new guy is gone.

The last I heard from him, he was struggling with the fallout from the Garlic Festival.

He is a Gilroy native, a former festival organizer, and an attendee, so I can understand his suffering.

And given that his near miss was also my near miss, I can relate to some of the survivor guilt I know he is feeling.

The good news, if there’s any to be gleaned from this, is that this has nothing to do with me.

For once in my life, I can look at a situation and recognize that it’s all about him or the shooting, or another woman, or something else.

But it’s not about me.

I’m not gonna lie.

Being ghosted hurts.

I am trying to remind myself, especially during these last few weeks when I’ve been struggling to keep my head above water with all the waves of loss rolling over me, that ghosting says more about the ghoster than the ghostee.

And if he’s comfortable with a legacy of indifference then so am I.

Enslaved

To say I’ve had a rough week is putting it mildly.

It’s been pure crap and I can’t wait for the week to be over with.

I’ve been struggling with survivor guilt, but also struggling with feeling like I’m not allowed to be upset because I wasn’t there for the shooting.

Needless to say, my mental health is not as robust as it usually is.

I keep circling back and thinking about the festival.

Can you imagine how I’d be doing if I’d heard the shots and had to run?

Or if I’d been at ground zero for the attack?

I’d be a WRECK!

I’ve been wondering how I’m going to make it through the week when something happened.

A life event update on Facebook.

The Swede is ENGAGED.

Not just dating someone, but actually engaged.

Hmmmmm.

Finally.

Something less upsetting to think about than the shooting.

I’m not gonna lie.

I was surprised.

I had to use Google Translate to figure out that The Swede was engaged.

FYI, the word for ‘engaged’ in Swedish translates to ‘ENSLAVED’ in English.

LOL

Update on The Swede

The Swede and his girlfriend are doing well, if Facebook has any say in the matter.

The other day, he posted a picture of the two of them, all dressed up in wedding attire, with her planting a huge kiss on his cheek.

Apart from loving his suit (complete with lavender shirt and matching silk tie) I was flustered by the photo.

I’m not gonna lie.

There were a few skewers of wistfulness and pangs of jealousy that went through my heart.

It seems that even though my head knows that The Swede is off the market, my heart needs a moment to take it all in.

It’s never a bad thing to be wistful over someone who was a good, decent human being to you.

For so long I convinced myself I wasn’t completely alone because there was somebody in Sweden who liked me.

It doesn’t even matter that I didn’t know him very well or that I only saw him a half dozen times over a three-year period.

He REPRESENTED something to me.

Hope.

Patience.

Friendship.

In the end, the friendship is what I’ll take away from this.

I expect the skewers of wistfulness and pangs of jealousy will decrease with time and OF COURSE the more I get to know the new guy, the more I wonder. . .

. . .The Swede, who?

30 years of f*cking

It’s officially been 30 years since I became sexually active.

I know this because I remember the date I lost my virginity.

It was July 8, 1989.

I was fifteen years old.

The only reason I didn’t lose it sooner is that the guy I picked to give my virginity to wound up backing out at the last minute.

I guess he was a big virgin too.

I’m not crazy about remembering dates to things like this.

It’s just that 7-8-89 is an easy date to remember.

It seems that now would be as good a time as any to review my sex life and make some changes, if needed.

Clearly, I have no sex life to speak of and so I’d like to change that.

However, I think I’ve made some good decisions lately about who to share that slice of myself with and who to abstain from sharing it with.

So I give myself points for that.

And, of course, no analysis of my sex life would be complete without acknowledging that there have been some MAJOR changes in my sex life, namely because I’m dating the new guy, but also because I’ve had a health scare or two.

Sure, there’s no one to speak of right now who I’m sharing intimacies with, but that’s likely going to change and I give myself bonus points for actually taking the time to get to know somebody as well as for creating a little empty space for someone new to enter the picture.

It was getting CROWDED.

Kidding!

Garlic Festival

I’m going to the Garlic Festival with the new guy on Sunday.*

He used to volunteer to help organize it.

And given that I’m a lifelong advocate for volunteering, you can just go ahead and assume I’m impressed with that.

The trick of course, is figuring out what to wear.

  1. It’s gonna be hot, Hot, HOT!
  2. I want to look pretty for the new guy
  3. Did I mention it’s going to be HOT?

If you’re worried about me eating garlic all day then trying to snog the new guy, no worries.

I am sure that he will be consuming as much garlic as me, if not more.

Reminds me of the time my little sister ate two whole heads of roasted garlic at my house for Halloween one year, only to have the garlic smell come out her pores later.

That’s how powerful garlic is.

I’m also reminded of when I went to the Great Bull Run at the Alameda County Fairgrounds a few years ago to run “with” the bulls in the hot HOT HEAT.

Sweat dripped off my body and when it came time to fool around with my date, he made me take a shower at his house because I was “salty.”

I don’t want a repeat of that.

So I’m going to wear one of my sundresses with my new espadrilles.

And a WHOLE LOT OF SUNBLOCK!

 

*UPDATE:  The new guy and I were at the festival on Sunday but left before the shooting.  To read my blog post about the festival, please go to this link.

Erotic Plans

Given my previous posts on the topic, some of you are wondering whether the new guy and I have gotten physical.

The answer is yes and he kisses like a dream.

I have yet to kiss that man and feel like I’ve had my fill.

I always walk away wanting more.

But no, we haven’t actually ‘done the deed.’

Does this bother me?

No and yes.

First of all, I think it’s great that I’ve slowed my roll long enough to stop, take a breath, and appreciate the person I’m in the process of getting to know.

The new guy is really awesome.

So capable, smart, and funny.

With interesting hobbies – like Star Trek, tinkering with cars, camping, and Comic-Con.

You can be sure there are two things in my future:  a Star Trek costume and wandering around Comic-Con in a Princess Leia costume.

Secondly, there’s something to be said for getting to know someone first before jumping in bed with them.

I know, I know.

I can’t believe I’m saying it too, but I have to admit, I REALLY like this guy.

So much so, that I feel totally and 100% comfortable waiting patiently until the right moment arrives.

HOWEVER, I am ever so slightly turned on – all the time.

My porn consumption has increased (yes, it has).

And I fantasize about having a moment alone with him, just the two of us, with no interruptions, no kids, no distractions, just him and me.

We will be going to the Gilroy Garlic Festival in the coming weekend.

And I was all excited because (you know) SLEEPOVER!

However, now it looks like there will be family staying over at the new guy’s place which throws a wrench in my erotic plans.

Nevertheless, I get to hang with him and his friends for the festival and that’s more than enough to make me happy.

Erotic plans or no.