I got grunge

I clearly remember thinking way back in the mid 1990s that I was bummed the fashion of my youth revolved around the grunge music scene.

For a glitter gal, the lure of the Spice Girls is stronger than the lure of Nirvana in comparison of their respective FASHIONS.

I spent my college years in boots, jeans, long sweaters, and beanies, as per the fashion of the day.

The generation behind me got faux fur, glitter, and fake eyelashes.

I’m not saying that the music was better.

I’m an alternative rock gal myself.

And I’m not saying glitter is better than plaid jackets.

I’m saying that the 21 year old in me longed for some of the glam and 90s vibe from that period.

And I knew it even back then that the young woman in me was rich and colorful and filled with strength and that she deserved more than the fashion void that was grunge.

That said, I do wonder why my “type” is always lumberjack.

Give me a man in boots, jeans, and a tight plaid flannel shirt and I’m one happy girl!

I mean perhaps, JUST perhaps, my young woman’s psyche started to fixate on the lumberjack type during my formative years immersed in grunge music and I have Pearl Jam to thank for my affection of all things big and bulky and brawny.

I’m not complaining.

In the roulette of life thankfully I landed on 1980s baby instead of 1880s baby.

I got grunge.

The Pacific Northwest.

And craft beer!

That time I landed a lumberjack

Once upon time, I had a HUGE crush.

He was a lumberjack.

With a beard.

And a voice like he gargled with glass.

When he’d say my name (Bombshell), he’d say it with gravitas.

He flirted with me and (of course) I did my best to flirt back.

We all know that although I enjoy flirting, I’m not always the best at it.

Sometimes I’m awkward.

Other times I’m way too subtle.

But in this case, I managed to convey my interest by simply staring at his mouth and fantasizing about kissing him.

He literally stopped right in the middle of the conversation he was having to kiss me.


And boy, what a kiss it was.

Pretty soon we were all over each other, making out and groping one another.

It’s not every day that a fantasy comes true for me, but this time around it did.

I got my lumberjack.

And yes, it was everything I expected and a little bit of the unexpected.

I got to knock an item off my sexual bucket list that night.

Guess what it was?

Liberal Lumberjack

One of the reasons I like Coke Can Dan so much apart from his obvious talent, is that he is a liberal lumberjack.

You all know I like lumberjacks.

And lumberjacks are easy to come by.

But liberal lumberacks?

Not so easy.

Gun-toting, Trump-supporting, conservative lumberjacks are a dime a dozen.

I could go through them as fast as I go through Kleenex during a head cold.

Case in point – I met a man online who looked quite good on paper.





Interested in a relationship?


But then I took a closer look at his profile pics.

And he is standing at a gun range, reloading a gun, wearing a “Make America Great Again” hat.


This is what pushes me off internet dating in the first place.

My tendency to meet men who are totally and completely inappropriate for me.

Could I ever date a Trump supporter?

Not likely.

There are fundamental things I believe in like basic human rights, the environment, health care, women’s rights, and a foreign policy that doesn’t involve being the pawn of Russia which I consider incompatible with the Trump platform.

I could listen to Coke Can Dan talk about his dislike of Trump FOR HOURS.

Or wax poetic on how important it is to protect our environment.

So of course when I’m online looking at profiles, I’m trying to find someone like Coke Can Dan.

A liberal lumberjack.

An open-minded hipster.


Just so long as he hates Donald Trump, the minority-elected president of this great nation.

Preparing for the zombie apocalypse

The other day, I was chatting with a friend about being attracted to a specific “type” of man.

Seeing as how he was front row center when I flirted with his friend at Burning Man, my friend said that I CLEARLY have a type.

And it’s true.

I am not one to be attracted to men in suits, although I like a man who can get dressed up.

I like a man in jeans and a tight t-shirt who sports a beard.


I like them scruffy and down-to-earth.

Think Mike Rowe on Dirty Jobs and you’ve got an idea of what appeals to me.

Now, I’m not saying that I never go against type.

I’ve had two boyfriends who didn’t fit the mold.

I’m just saying they had a uphill battle and I will always, ALWAYS find myself attracted to the biggest, baddest, scruffiest man in the room.

Some women are attracted to fancy cars, wealth and expensive suits.

I’m attracted to trucks, 5 o’clock shadows and callused hands.

I’m not sure where this comes from.

My DNA is still in “caveman mode” and is attracted to men who can handle a gun, park a fifth wheel, and barbecue like they were born in a Weber grill.

Clearly my inner woman is preparing for the zombie apocalypse and wants a big, strong man to look after me.

Because who cares what kind of a car you drive or how much money you have in the bank when there are zombies trying to eat your brain?

My little lumberjack

Okay, you know how I go on and on about liking lumberjacks?

Well, I don’t mean literally lumberjacks.

I’m referring to men who are handy outdoors and indoors.

Who can fix a leaky sink and back up an RV.

The kind of guy who can go for a hike in the woods and wind up rescuing a baby deer.

And the kind of guy who sports facial hair VERY WELL.

THAT’S the kind of lumberjack I mean.

Not necessarily that he chops down trees.

In fact tree chopping is discouraged.

I’d prefer he be a bit of a tree hugger, actually.

Why am I telling you all this?

Because I found my PERFECT lumberjack.

And when I say lumberjack, I mean L U M B E R J A C K !

Check out my new boyfriend. . .

Yeah, I totally bought him off etsy for $12.

So worth it.

It started me thinking about a whole LUMBERJACK TREE!

Imagine red and white lights, hanging wooden disks, red flannel swags, various woodland animals, ivory knit Christmas balls, and lots of greenery.


Gets me so excited!

I can’t help myself, I just may have to create a lumberjack tree!


Strike THREE!

My experiences online dating have been frustrating, as of late.

To begin with, there are a lot of guys who live VERY FAR AWAY who are messaging me.

No, I DON’T want to travel to fricking MODESTO for a date.

I think not.

Not that the men aren’t tempting.

I get all excited because I see a lumberjack is emailing me only to find out that he lives in Manteca.

Apparently there are a plethora of lumberjacks living in the Central Valley.

Then there’s this guy who lives in the East Bay and I think, “Ok. Maybe. . .”

screen-shot-2017-02-16-at-10-21-07-amHandsome.  Love the beard.  Hoping he has tattoos.

So I go check out his profile and I notice he’s spelled coffee “coffey.”

Strike one.

So I read his profile and notice that he also spelled “too” wrong.

As in “Not TO much to ask for.”

Strike two.

And finally, as I’m reviewing his profile, I note that he’s “separated” as in “MARRIED” and we all know how I feel about dating “separated” men.

Strike three.


Nice guys finish last

nice guysHow often have you heard the phrase “nice guys finish last?”

100? 1,000 times?

I’ve certainly heard it a lot.

Basically, it means that girls like bad boys and the nicer a guy is to a girl, the less likely he is to actually get anywhere with her.

I somewhat resemble this remark.

I had a thing for bad boys. The lumberjacks. The rough and tumble, ready to rumble guys.

I married one of the worst!

Screaming over me while I huddled in a corner clutching a phone calling my parents because I’m sick with the flu, and he’s mad I didn’t clean the kitchen.

I learned a lot in that relationship.

I learned to appreciate nice guys.

The kind ones who listen to you. Who ask how you’re doing. Who remember you on your birthday and on holidays. Who bring you chicken soup when you’re sick.

My next two boyfriends were the definition of Nice Guy.

Jason, with his boxer’s broken nose, looked like a bad guy but was all sweetness and love inside. He would drive 45 minutes each way to come visit me during the week.

And Luke, though he took some time to grow on me, ended up being a very protective and loving boyfriend. Too bad he met and married someone else while we were dating. Truth!

In any case, I feel bad for all the nice guys whom I passed up – the Geoffs and the Gregs and the Andrews.

If it helps at all, I’ve discovered a sure fire way to meet nice guys. . .

Look for genuine smiles.

Avoid smirks, shit-eating-grins, and smiles that don’t reach their eyes.

Go for the guy with the smile that looks like he’s sitting down to a home cooked meal and is so appreciative of what’s in front of him.

It might not be foolproof, but it sure eliminates most of the bad boys.

Lord knows I need more kind souls in my life.

An Australian, a Scotsman, and a Lumberjack walk into a bar…


Australian man – yes, because of the accent, but also because they’re damn cute and downright sexy. And I want someone to take me to Australia. Who better than a Australian?


British man – because I love a man who talks about my fanny and calls my panties knickers. Very bedroom-oriented which feeds my inner mattress dancer spectacularly.


Lumberjack – to see why the hell I am so attracted to a big chest, large hands, and a thick…


Mike Rowe – my dream man – eloquent and educated yet down to earth and really, really funny. You want to know my ideal man, it’s Mike Rowe.


Gynecologist – just to see if a doctor who works all day with women has any better grasp on the female anatomy and what to do with it than any of the other men I go out with.


Older man – just to see if life experience has given them a better grasp on the female anatomy and what to do with it. I have a Canadian prospect all lined up.


Younger man – because they’re eager to please and come with relatively less baggage than their older counterparts.


Jackass cast – love the show, love the films, love everything about them (except when they ate yellow snow).


Scotsman – I already know what’s under their kilt, and I like it A LOT.  But what I really like about a Scotsman is his manly demeanor. Been to Scotland twice and loved it both times.


Tantric sex instructor – because…. well… HELLO…. T A N T R I C  S E X !


Jon Hamm’s penis – who doesn’t want to go out with the man who gave new meaning to going commando?  Talk about an eye opener in the morning!


Big Jim

Jim is a big man. At 6’6” tall, he towers over other men. He is also a Building and Electrical contractor and a former mechanic who owned his own repair shop. And he’s an Eagle Scout.  And he was in the Army.

He’s also a self-proclaimed sapiophile which I find very sexy.

In case you couldn’t tell, Jim qualifies as a lumberjack which on a panties wetness scale of 1 – 10 gives him at least an 8 in my book.

I gave Big Jim my phone number over a week ago and was disappointed when he didn’t call.

Well, Big Jim finally called and this is how our conversation went.


Now, it may not be the CREEPIEST move to ask a woman to describe what she’s wearing, but it’s certainly in the TOP 5 creepy moves men should NEVER DO WITH WOMEN IF THEY WANT A DATE.

My warning bells are ringing off the hook and there’s a big red flag in front of my face.

Dammit! So close and yet so far!

I met someone

That’s right, I met someone and I’m a little bit emotional over it.

We talk for hours on the phone.  He’s funny.  And witty.  And thoughtful.

And I haven’t met him in person yet.

But in a way, he’s everything I think I want – tall, handsome, thoughtful, generous, kind, smart, good with kids, funny, etc.

It remains to be see how he treats the waitstaff.  I have a firm “be kind to the waiter/waitress” rule.

We’re going out on February 14th for our fist date.

Yes indeed.  Our first date will be on Valentine’s Day.

I have no idea where we are going or what we are doing, but I hope it’s fabulous.

He already knows some of my secrets –  like my love of nude beaches, my wild child past – and he still is interested in me.

So far, so good.

He’s trying to introduce a little spontaneity into his life and what better way than with me… Ms. Spur-of-the-moment-brilliant-ideas?!

Maybe he’s not as wild as my “usual” type but that could be a very good thing for me.  I need a rock to anchor me.  To balance out my tendency to go floating off into the atmosphere.

But the absolute best part of this is that he’s a lumberjack.  That’s right, he’ 6’4″ tall and has a beard.

Oh baby!