Feeling uncomfortable

There’s a rumor swirling around that people hate change.

It’s hard on us.

The tried and true may not be perfect but it’s better than the unknown, right?

Well about ten years ago, I met a man who lived life on his own terms.

He walked to the beat of a different drummer.

I resented him pushing me out of my comfort zone at the time, but looking back I see now he taught me an important lesson.

He taught me to challenge myself in every area of my life.

I’ve gotten pretty good at being adventurous with my free time.

Hello running with the bulls and Burning Man.

But there are areas that could be improved upon.

Such as my dating life.

I withhold a lot.

I’ll get a burning urge to ask my date a critical question but I never ask out of fear that the answer might not be what I like and I might ruffle a few feathers.

You can imagine how well that goes over.

The distance between me and my date increases by leaps and bounds and then we just fizzle out.

Sure, I’ve kept the peace but there’s a cost.

Lack of intimacy.

But it’s how we resolve conflicts that defines our intimacy with others.

So I’ve got to get better at asking the difficult questions.

In order to succeed, I can’t be afraid of failing.

My type(s)

The other day, I was texting a new man when the subject of types came up.

Laugh now.

I have a type.

Bearded.

Type A personality.

Outdoorsman.

Adventurous.

Mike Rowe, basically.

Or John Krasinski.

But not those crazy quackers on Duck Dynasty.

Those beards are NASTY, long and unkempt.

I prefer trim and neat.

So a little lumberjack, but not full-on bush man.

This guy, while clean shaven, has some pictures on his profile with him sporting a full beard, so I know he’s got it in him to grow one.

As we were discussing my “type,” I realized that having a “type” doesn’t just apply to the men I date, it also applies to the dogs I love.

I give you Exhibit A:  My two dogs:

Wendy on the left and Mac on the right.

Clearly, I’m a German shepherd girl.

And white German shepherds at that.

Truthfully, I occasionally come across a Tinder profile where there is a bearded man who has a white German shepherd dog, and I ALWAYS swipe right.

Beards and WGSDs?!

Sign up me!

Being myself

There I was, texting several men, when all of a sudden I came to a realization.

I’m kinky.

This may not be any big revelation to you, but to me it was.

I was talking about going to naturist resorts and was trying to explain to this guy that it’s all quite normal.

Then I realized it’s not.

It’s abnormal.

I mean, sure it’s natural and all, but most people do not go to nude resorts to decompress.

I keep looking for NORMAL men when really what I need to do is look for open-minded, preferably kinky men.

Not breastfeeding-kinky, mind you.

Not heavy duty 24/7 dark play.

More like capable of a little dark play.

And definitely capable of topping me because let’s face it, when I’m left in charge, things go sideways.

Hence, unblunder.

I’m not suitable for vanilla men.

Not quite full kinkster men.

What to do?

Red Flags

Not surprisingly, I see a lot of red flags when I go out on dates with men.

The guy who brought his 6-year-old daughter on a date was a red flag.

Then there was the attorney who passed gas in his car driving me up and down Mt. Hamilton.  Nasty rancid hummus farts.

Also?

The guy who got REALLY mad at me for showing up an hour “late” for a date when he had accidentally texted me the wrong time.

But the guy who takes the cake is the one who left a hand gun out on his counter top just as casual as can be.

As my friend Michelle pointed out, “The hand gun is a major red flag.  As you know my family are military with guns.  They would counsel you 100% to not see someone again who leaves their handgun out on a counter.”

Yes, indeed.

Most of my friends were perturbed by the casual presence of a gun on my date.

Tom, always the comedian, sent me this clip from “It’s always sunny in Philadelphia”:

The IMPLICATION of course being that who is going to say no when there’s the idle threat of a gun laying nearby?

Personally, I think this guy had no idea that his gun was out.

He’s single.

No kids.

Lives alone.

Nevertheless, it is a thoughtless act and one which intimidated me and made me feel uncomfortable.

No repeat performance necessary.

I see the red flag.

Screw up

The other day, I was contemplating this quote:

“What screws us up most in life is the picture in our head of how it’s supposed to be.”

It really hit home.

Of course, I have this image in my head of what my life is SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE and in reality, it is NOTHING LIKE THAT.

In my dreams my father isn’t blind, my mother isn’t in congestive heart failure, and I’m not living with them helping out.

In my dreams, I have my own place, a good paying job and a clear career trajectory.

In my dreams I have a partner who loves me and brings out the best in me.

And there I was, sitting on a couch with my date who was being kinky (we’ll save those details for later), and I thought – MAYBE THIS IS WHAT I DESERVE.

In my head there’s this perfect man for me:

A lumberjack with an education who can dress up or dress down and always looks sexy.

A steadfast man who will love me and my boys unconditionally.

One who is kind to animals and to the wait staff.

Someone skilled in the bedroom.

This was NOT that man.

But perhaps, my ideal is wrong.

After all, I’m a kinky woman.

I have strong tastes for certain things.

Maybe my “image” of what I want is screwing up the reality of what is really appropriate for me.

Maybe I should give this guy a chance.

So, I am.

One Lucky Lady

I got news today from The Swede.

All is well in Sweden, in fact he has a girlfriend now.

I’ll admit, I was a little sad.

But wasn’t he sweet to tell me instead of letting me find out via Facebook or Instagram?

Yeah, that was nice of him.

He was bound to find a girlfriend.

Honestly, both of us have been single for years.

We’re RIPE for the picking.

It’s nice to hear he’s doing well, and no worries, I’m not crushed or anything.

I’ve been flirting with my own (new) man who seems quite kind, funny, and generous.

He’s my distraction.

I will miss chatting with The Swede but we’ll keep in touch I am sure, even if it’s only just a little bit of catching up from time to time.

So there you have it.

The latest news from Sweden.

The Swede has a girlfriend.

And she’s one lucky lady, because he is amazing.

She’s got mad skills

All right, so I’m back to online dating.

Basically because I don’t meet single men at my job and I’m too lazy to go out every night trolling for men.

So, Tinder.

Within a few minutes of downloading Tinder to my phone, I had a handful of matches.

All healthy looking Bay Area lumberjacks (with beards, naturally).

One quickly proved to be only interested in rubbing aloe vera on my poor sunburned breasts.

His suggestion, not mine.

The other has shown himself to be made of more substantial matter – conversing with me without making a single comment about breasts, sunburns, and rubbing aloe vera on my sunburned chest.

I unmatched the man who wanted to rub my breasts with aloe.

Why waste our time?

Although I did (for a second) think about how fun it would be to sext him and his sexy beard.

I’ve decided I’m going to improve on vetting the men who reach out to me.

Make sure there’s some basic features available:

  1. Would never vote for Trump (not in 2016, not in 2020).
  2. If he doesn’t have a beard, is willing to grow one.
  3. Would enjoy attending Burning Man, not just tolerate the experience.
  4. Like kids, because I’ve got two (granted they’re both almost of age now, but still).
  5. Is an animal lover (compassion is key).
  6. Is emotionally intelligent as well as intellectually intelligent.

I’ve also been advised, by Barbara, to let her vet potential dates by introducing them to her before the fifth date.

The fifth date is when all the oxytocin (bonding hormone) sets in and I start being oblivious to all his faults.

And we all know that Barbara is The Hammer and can sort appropriate men from inappropriate men JUST LIKE THAT.

She’s got mad skills.

Poster child for monogamy

My friend Tom is the poster child for monogamy.

He fell in love with a woman.

They dated.

Then they shockingly broke up.

And now he’s alone without his soulmate there beside him.

By the time you reach my age (45), you’ve learned a thing or two about love.

I’ve learned that sometimes, love is not enough.

And relationships take effort and commitment.

The end result, of course, is that Tom is heartbroken.

And TOTALLY OFF THE MARKET for another relationship.

Which brings me to the point of this blog.

How many people out there are dating but have their heart still held fast by a former lover?

Everyone who has reached the age of 30, I would think.

By 30 you’ve fallen in love, at least once, and had time to actually work on a relationship.

And even though I can honestly say that my ex-boyfriend Jay holds that space in my heart, I can also say that I believe that there’s something better out there for me.

Yes, better than the best I’ve ever had.

Well, for one reason – I’m better.

Tom and I bonded over writing, music and mutually pining after our exes.

Unlike me, Tom thinks that love will pass him by unless his ex-girlfriend returns.

I however, am optimistic.

For Tom.

And for me.

The Right Man

When was the last time I went out on a date I was excited about?

Well. . . one that didn’t end in disaster, like the last.

I’ll tell you, the last date I had that I was genuinely excited for was with my ex-boyfriend Luke.

That’s right.

The one who dumped me after I miscarried.

Hard to believe I ever loved him.

He’s the ex-boyfriend I never think of.

I almost forget him.

Except for the miscarriage.

So let’s just say it’s been A WHILE since I had a great date.

And now, I’m swearing off dating (and sex) until I find someone who truly resonates with me.

Someone I feel connected to.

I simply can’t stomach continuing to go out on dates I’m not excited about with men who don’t even bother to get to know me.

My friend Nadine suggested I wait three months before having sex with someone.

I agreed to four dates.

When I told this to my friend Tom, he suggested 5 dates.

I balked.

Five dates!

That’s an ETERNITY.

“The right man will wait 50,” says Tom.

And maybe he’s right.

It got me thinking about past relationships and the connection I felt with the men I loved.

I miss that connection.

It’s not rocket science.

You meet someone you’re into who is into you and VOILÁ!

A connection is formed.

For me, it happens swiftly.

One minute I’m swearing off sex and dating and the next minute I’m madly in love.