Milestones

May 13, 2016

According to Tinder, that’s the day that I first met The Swede.

Some of you have been asking how I met The Swede and the truth is I met him on Tinder.

He was on a business trip to the Bay Area from his home in Stockholm, Sweden and was looking for a tour guide.

I was online looking to meet someone cool.

I agreed to take him to Santa Cruz.

I love going to Santa Cruz and playing tour guide to people who are unfamiliar with the area.

We ate on the wharf, played air hockey (he won), and I made him take off his shoes and dip his feet in the Pacific Ocean.

I taught him to eat raw oysters, though he wasn’t a big fan.

He was soft spoken and shy, unlike me.

He left for home the next day and I thought I’d never see him again.

But of course I did see him on his next trip.

And his next trip.

And then I got on a plane and flew to Stockholm to visit him!

It took 3 dates to get him to kiss me, but now that we’ve kissed, the trick is getting us to STOP KISSING.

Well, the WHOLE reason why I’m writing this post is because it’s May 2018 – which means I have officially known him for TWO WHOLE YEARS!

Milestones.

Viking Porn

It’s been a long time since I thought about Charlie the Aussie.

Charlie was named after ALL HIS RELATIVES.

His had one first name – Charles – and 7 middle names.

If it sounds like he was royalty, that’s because he was royalty.

He was a Knight in the Order of Australia, an honor he received because he crewed a sailboat that sailed from Australia to the Orient (I’m not sure where, this detail has escaped me) as part of an anniversary celebration.

Charlie was magnificent.

He would run marathons in the wilderness.

He could sail ships (obviously) and if you blindfolded him and dropped him off in the desert with a Snickers and a liter of water, he would FIND HIS WAY BACK HOME, no big deal.

Needless to say, I really adored Charlie.

Sadly however, Charlie did not adore me back.

He had a wife (he was separated, not divorced) and a special needs son and in the end, Charlie went back to his wife and he quickly became just a fond memory for me.

So why do I bring him up now?

Well, Facebook has somehow figured out that I know him and keeps flashing his face for me to “add as a friend.”

Now.

Facebook knows what I shopped online for two days ago.

They flash it in my sidebar.

They also know what I had for dinner last night.

And they like to remind me of it daily.

So I’m surprised that Facebook hasn’t figured out a way to keep ex-boyfriends from showing up in your “Potential Friends” list.

That way lies nothing but sorrow.

I’m waiting for Facebook to figure out that I’m moved on from Aussies to Swedes.

Don’t remind me of Aussie disappointments.

Show me some Viking porn.

Cat and mouse

My son decided to wish me a Happy Mother’s Day by sending me a SnapChat of him with a HUGE HICKIE on his neck which he got on a trip to Paso Robles.

He had a BIG smile on his face.

I quickly took a screen shot of his SnapChat (he later deleted it off my phone).

I showed it to my mom.

She sighed.

We’ve all been sorta hoping he’d settle down a bit with the young woman he took to the prom.

But no, apparently he’s still sowing his wild oats.

And (no judgment here) he should be.

He’s 18!

Back at home, I asked him when his prom date came over, “So what did she think of your neck?”

He said, “She offered to mark the other side.”

Oooooohhhhhhhh!

Damn!

Kids are growing up fast these days!

It took me YEARS to get over the idea that I MUST create a relationship with EVERY man who interests me or be labeled a SLUT.

Kudos to these two young adults for not forcing the issue and just enjoying each other’s company.

I like a woman confident enough to hold her own in the face of another woman’s hickie.

Who is the cat and who is the mouse?

You really can’t be sure now, can you?

Rare and principled

In case you didn’t know, my first husband was a police officer.

He was about as straight as they come.

No drinking.

No drugs.

HIGHLY possessive.

Also as it turns out, a bit on the combative side.

After 10 years of marriage, I called it quits.

I was expecting to find a partner who would give my boys another example of how a man behaves.

Less volatile.

Better communication.

I’ve now dated several men who I felt represented what I want my sons to grow up to be like.

Unfortunately, none of them have stuck around, but there’s still time.

In the last few years, since I’ve been going to Burning Man, I’ve met all variety of men.

Polyamorous.

Monogamous.

Divorced.

Separated.

In an “open” relationship.

Cheaters.

Successful businessmen.

Struggling artists.

Musicians.

Alcoholics.

I must say, I have found something appealing in most of the varieties that men come in.

But when it comes down to it, I’m still looking for a man who fits the bill.

I had a conversation with a friend lately where he professed his unending loyalty to his wife, which I thought was so sweet.

I don’t come across too many monogamous men.

“You are a rare and principled man,” I told him, giving his quite possibly THE BEST COMPLIMENT I CAN GIVE SOMEONE.

And that’s when it hit me.

What I’m looking for?

My own rare and principled man.

Creep

creepOkay, the first thing I’m going to admit is that I can’t hear the word ‘creep’ without having Radiohead’s lyrics to “Creep” ring through my head:

“But I’m a creep, I’m a weirdo.

What the hell am I doing here?

I don’t belong here.”

The truth is I know a lot of creeps.

And I’m okay with that.

I used to get the willies from creeps but that was only until I met creepier creeps.

SUCH AS:

A 50+ year old man who admitted to me that he finds teenage girls sexy.

Super creepy!

I can’t even LOOK at 20 something year old young men without thinking about my own sons.

It’s. So. Not. Sexy.

OR:

Another man who told me he steals ladies panties from the laundromat.

Uber creepy!

So I’m not talking about super creeps and uber creeps – the ones you want to take out restraining orders against.

I’m talking about your garden variety, run-of-the-mill creep.

  • The guy who gives off that funny vibe that makes you feel like you’re standing naked in front of him.
  • The guy who has “horny” written all over his face and you can just tell he’s imagining doing naughty things with you.
  • The guy who you know would get down with you in a millisecond, regardless of where you are and who you are with.

Dare I say it?

I find those guys kinda charming.

Some of my closest friends would probably classify themselves as creeps, in one way or another.

I find something transparent in creeps – as if their deepest desires are barely veiled from the world, ready to be let loose at a moment’s notice.

And it occurs to me that perhaps my fondness for creeps is because I TOO AM A CREEP.

  • Awkward.
  • Giving off a weird vibe.
  • Sexual frustration just brewing beneath the surface.

Yes friends, I’m a creep.

I’m a weirdo.

But don’t you find me the teensiest bit charming?

You do now, don’t you?

Dating a blogger

It’s hard to date a blogger.

ESPECIALLY one as transparent as I am.

EVERYTHING goes on the internet:

You will usually find me blogging about whatever is on my mind from the men who capture my fancy, like The Swede; to past lovers who I remember fondly, like Jay and Charlie The Aussie; to men I fantasize about but can never have, like Alexander Skarsgård and Joe Manganiello.

IMG_9379I’d like to think I’m more of a lover than a hater. Unfortunately, the hate tends to be funnier than the love, like when The Hunk had an epic skill/equipment failure in bed with me.

IMG_9378I’ve been advised that the reason I’m single is because of this blog.

That might be true but I can’t help but feel like deep down, my blog will actually draw in the right man for me.

Imagine how nice it’d be to have all your experiences and secrets in one place where a person can read about them.

My thoughts. My hopes. My frustrations.

If a man can get through my blog posts AND STILL be interested in me, then he passed the test.

And the thing is, PLENTY of men like this blog and read it.

So there’s hope.

There’s a reason this blog is called unblunder…

Because everything seems wrong at first until it suddenly turns beautifully, epically RIGHT!

Growing up

I’ve had no dates since returning from Sweden.

It’s not that I’m consciously trying to be loyal to The Swede.

It’s because I simply can’t stomach the quality of men I meet online.

Did you know that one man thanked me for moving my beer on the first date because (as he put it), he “could see my tits better without the glass in the way?”

Mind you, I have behaved no better.

I’m no “holier than thou” woman.

Nope.

I sent dirty pictures.

I wore low cut dresses.

And I flirted with the best of them.

In the end, online dating is not any way to make a connection with somebody.

Although, I did meet The Swede on Tinder.

Go figure.

One in a fucking billion.

And I had to import him from ANOTHER COUNTRY!

You’d think, given my inclinations, that I’d be missing all those dates, and sexting, and flirtations.

But you’d be wrong.

I’m not missing it ONE BIT.

Maybe it’s because I can skype The Swede whenever I want.

But also?

It’s because I can TEXT The Swede whenever I want.

Kidding!

Maybe he’s a big part of why I’m happy, but he’s not the ONLY reason I’m happy.

I’ve got a hundred other reasons to be happy starting with my boys.

I guess this is growing up.

Over The Moon

I turned d­­­­own a date today.

Not because it didn’t sound great.

It sounded very nice.

And not because I don’t find the guy attractive.

Actually, he’s at the far end of the handsome scale.

I know!

What was I thinking?

Well, I’ll tell you.

I was thinking of The Swede.

I was thinking how much I want to make him coffee in the morning.

And roll over in bed to see his face.

And I was thinking about how much I miss hugging him.

And kissing him.

There’s a whole lot of things I miss about The Swede.

How quiet he is until you get to know him.

How dedicated he is to his children.

How much of a prankster he is.

And so, for the first time EVER, I’m finally admitting I am OVER THE MOON for The Swede.

 

Thin walls

In addition to meeting The Swede’s YOUNGEST daughter, I also got to meet his ELDEST daughter.

And his parents.

It was quite an experience, although if I think back, I did introduce him to my sons and my parents when we were going to UnSCruz together.

Of course, with the language barrier, there was only so much communicating we could do.

Most of our interactions consisted of them feeding me and me saying “tack” or “thank you” in Swedish.

His mother cooked THE MOST AMAZING PORK LOIN for dinner one night.

I’m used to pork turning out dry and in desperate need of gravy.

But this was OUTSTANDING.

I tried to communicate my appreciation.

“Thank you very much,” I said in Swedish.

His parents home was like something out of a dream – a fairytale cottage with an explosion of Christmas decorations inside.

I sneaked a picture of The Swede as a little boy.

And one of his youngest daughter in pigtails.

Too cute for words.

As we were going to bed (in a bed only SLIGHTLY LARGER than a twin bed), The Swede began to chat with his father in the room next door.

Through the walls.

All my plans for nookie disappeared.

When you can hear your neighbor that PERFECTLY, there’s no space for fooling around.

I may be horny but I’m not disrespectful.

“Family”

In Sweden, I got to experience what it’s like to have a boyfriend for a week.

And how was it, you ask?

Not too shabby.

Actually, cohabitating with The Swede and his daughter was fun.

I imagined, as our threesome wandered about the city of Stockholm, that people assumed that we were a real family.

I let myself fantasize that I had a daughter.

And a man who loves me.

So what if it’s not true?

It can’t hurt to pretend.

We even did chores together, like laundry and dishes.

Well, to be honest, The Swede did chores and I watched.

All in all, I really enjoyed my fantasy weekend in Sweden.

I got to sleep in late with The Swede.

I got to enjoy the company of his hockey-playing daughter.

And I got to explore Stockholm and the countryside.

I’d say it was a vacation well spent!