I couldn’t make this sh*t up

So there I am on date #4,832.

And it’s going O-K.

My date, a longtime employee of an online bidding site that rhymes with C-Bay, is engaging enough – although he’s not good at making eye contact.

He’s already told me that I blink too much.

And he’s admitted he has no filter.

Hmmm. . . sounds like an excuse to say what you want and damn the consequences, but O-K.

He moves a glass on the table and says, “I did that so that I can see your tits better.”


I instinctively cover them up with my hands.

Jesus! Did he really just say that!?

EXCUSE ME? I say loudly.

“Oh sorry. I was joking,” he replied.

And then 5 minutes later… “I really am sorry.”

And again, 5 minutes later… “Sorry.”


I should’ve walked out.

I thought about it.

But by the time it occurred to me, it was too late. The conversation had moved on and we were behaving amiably again.

And a part of me realized with dismay that I’m kinda used to men behaving badly around me, or else I would have left.


I couldn’t make this shit up.

All you need is to succeed once


No one said it would be easy.

And technically, you get it wrong all the time and only get it right a fraction of the time.

Those aren’t stellar odds if you ask me.

I once dated this guy named Paul and for the life of me I couldn’t remember his name. It was like I had a mental block against his name. He finally gave up on me and (I am sure) filed me away under “disastrous dates.”

There was another guy who I went out with who was Lebanese. He had hummus the night before and he FARTED the whole time we were on our date. Nasty, stinky, garbanzo bean and garlic farts. Ugh. I filed him under “NEVER AGAIN!”

But the absolute worst date I went on was with a lawyer who brought his 6 year old daughter and two standard size black poodles with him. Somehow I wound up walking those dogs and letting his daughter watch the Adult Swim station on TV while he ran out for dog food.

And the best dates, we’ll they are like magic in my mind.

Charlie, the Aussie I adored, took me to see Hearst Castle and we strolled along the beach, just like the cliché, hand in hand, chatting about his life in Australia and my life in the US. It was a little bit of heaven and that boy deserved every blessedly wonderful thing that happened to him.

Jason and I hit it off instantly. It was unimaginable chemistry and an instant connection. To this day, I remember how he said my name with gravity and weight, as if it really mattered to him. That boy could say ‘Michelle’ and get a response from me in a millisecond.

Finally, there’s Drew. Drew was a 6’10” volleyball player who literally made me shiver when I saw him, such was the nature of our attraction. Our romance was brief but intense and when he held my hand in a jazz concert at Stanford, I got moist. Yeah, that kind of attraction.

The thing that all the good dates and all the bad dates have in common is that I usually knew, within minutes of meeting the guy, whether it was going to be great or awful. No exceptions. I’ve never expected a bad date and had a good date. Likewise I’ve always known when I was about to have a really good date.

As much as I love going out and having fun, regardless of who I am with, I’d like to meet that one person who connects with me on a deeper level.

So I guess I’ll just keep putting up with the bad dates, getting one step closer to having that good date.

I have a lousy success rate.

But all you need is to succeed once and you’re golden.

Totally, utterly, completely golden.

Bad Date – Before and After


Look how optimistic I am.

So bright and shiny and ready for a nice night out on the town with a new suitor.

michelleAnd then the after photo, taken in bed after a lousy date with a homophobe, religious zealot, and likely a conservative Republican who doesn’t believe in a woman’s right to choose.

michelleNo smile.

No optimism.

Just frustration and sadness.

Have I mentioned how much I HATE dating lately?

Cuz it’s true…


Bad bad date

My date with the attorney did not go well.

To begin with, he double booked his evening so we were on a schedule.

Secondly, instead of taking me out somewhere he had wine with me at his office.

Thirdly, he admitted that his screw cap bottle of wine cost him $10, making me (or him) the cheapest date imaginable.

[Actually he’s not the cheapest date I’ve ever had. The cheapest date I ever had made me to pay for the meal.[

He spent most of his time talking about his ex-girlfriend and her four kids. It was actually very sad.

I told him he seemed sad about his past.

He got mad.

He said that just because he talks about his ex doesn’t mean that he’s not over her.

That’s not what I said, I pointed out.

You’d think as an attorney, he’d figure these things out himself.

Normally, I get frustrated when I meet a decent man who has been ruined by a woman, who is somehow traumatized by the relationship and can’t seem to get over it.

But in this case I was perfectly okay with it.

Let him be ruined for women.

Who wants him anyway?