The winds of change

Most of my Tinder dates while being thoroughly entertaining, only last one date or two before they fizzle out.

So I’m going on a lot of first dates, a few second dates, and virtually no one has stuck.

Ironically, I’ve made more friends on Tinder than lovers and it’s just a testament to my stubbornness that I’m online AT ALL!

Gradually, over time I’ve begun to question the wisdom of blogging my dates with men on this site.

I mean, exactly how many men want to be preceded by their “reputation” when dating me?

I think it’s clear to me that the answer is NO ONE.

And so it is with tremendous thought and self-reflection that I’ve decided to slow down my blogging and eliminate my dating life from my daily journals.

I’m sure it comes with GREAT SATISFACTION to some of my friends who have been advocating for this for years.

The Photographer is one such advocate, who has told me every chance he gets to SLOW DOWN BLOGGING MEN!

Michelle is another friend who supports the “less is more” movement on unblunder.

Needless to say I’m a little nervous about having enough content to post every day.

My quilting and costuming posts are never as popular as my dating posts.

But that’s something I can live with if it creates a little space for someone to actually enter my life, without judgment or prejudice, and enjoy my company for a little while.

Also, it’s okay if I’m not glued to my computer dreaming up blog posts that are only read by a thousand people.

I’ve got a life.

It’s time to live it instead of constantly writing about things I want to do and men I occasionally date.

Bathing in sunblock

Ever since I put THIS picture up on Tinder, I’ve been getting a ton of emails from men.

Among the responses, I got two dick pics.

Now, I’m not going to complain because that would just be silly.

Put a provocative picture out there, expect to get provocative pictures back.

That’s the rules folks.

I put the bait in the water, I shouldn’t be surprised when I catch a corresponding fish.

So I’m not writing this to complain about dick pics.

No.

One such “fish” is from Germany.

Quite a sexy beast too.

A private pilot who flies corporate jets for a living.

Now, I’ve been warned about pilots.

So I asked him, “ARE YOU MARRIED?”

He told me “Recently separated.”

Right-O.

I’ll bet his wife doesn’t know this!

Anyway, at best I’ve made a few sext partners through this photo.

At worst I’ll have to fend off some groping hands on a date.

All in all, I’m pretty happy to have found some new blood to keep me entertained.

The German Pilot asked me to send a current photo, so I obliged.

He doesn’t think I look 46 years old.

He says I look like I’m in my 20s.

[NOTE:  He may be referring to pictures I sent that had other body parts besides my face.]

I had to politely explain that I virtually bathe in sunblock every day.

Personally, I think I look my age give or take only about 5 years or so.

And I’m okay with that.

Growing old is a luxury denied to many.

But I thank my lucky stars that I worked in a spa in my 20s and was advised to wear sunblock every day.

As for The German Pilot, he can go home to his “recently-separated” wife and “reconcile.”

I learned my lesson with Stargazer.

No married men.

Only in my dreams

I had a dream the other night that I was interested in a man.

I have no idea who this man is, but the best part of the dream was that HE WAS INTERESTED IN ME TOO.

As in RECIPROCAL INTEREST, not just unrequited love.

Which is what I seem to experience the most of these days.

I recall slowly waking up and trying to FORCE myself back into my dream, it was so nice and lovely.

Of course as things go, I wound up waking up all the way and the dream was gone.

But that feeling of “OMG, someone LIKES me” lingered.

And I felt suddenly blissfully happy and content lying in bed.

It seems odd, given that yesterday was National Singles Day, for me to be so completely enthralled with a dream of love.

There’s no doubt that I am pretty content with the single life I’m living now.

But for a bit of a reprieve, I’ll take the dream and daydream that there’s someone out there for me, anxious to meet me too.

I may be happily single, because I’m very pragmatic about dating.

But it sure would be nice to meet someone special.

Even if it’s only in my dreams.

New man = new bedding

I have a thing about bedding.

Every time I get a new boyfriend, I get new bedding.

It’s an UNCONTROLLABLE urge.

It just seems wrong to sleep with a different man in sheets christened by his predecessor.

Am I right?

No jokes about how much bedding I should have, btw.

It all started 8 years ago.

I had beautiful red floral IKEA bedding which I slept in with my then-boyfriend Jay.

I have pictures I took of him smiling at me from among those red sheets and the images are burned into my brain.

I don’t even need to close my eyes and I can see his face and those sheets.

So it was necessary when we split to gift that bedding to my sister’s spare bedroom.

And thus a habit was born.

New man = new bedding.

Needless to say, I’ve been sleeping in the same bedding for years now and I finally allowed myself the luxury of buying new bedding NOT BECAUSE OF A NEW MAN but because I simply wanted new bedding.

Oh sure, I’m sure a new man will someday snuggle with me under that comforter, but until then this girl is happy sleeping solo in my new bedding!

img_0021

New bedding christened in the Motor Beast at Burning Man 2016. Can you tell I like bright colors?

These are my “SINGLE WOMAN” linens.

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.

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?

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.

STOP IT

My friend Tom, who I’ve written about here is now happily dating a fabulous woman.

He wrote a powerful blog post about his previous roller coaster relationship and it’s worth the read just to have sentences like:

“Chiseling away at the rotten foundations of something keeping an entire reservoir of crap I needed to let go of” and

“Hey, didn’t you see that red flag?  The one you just went flying right by?”

and

“Trainwrecks are exciting too.  Do you want to live on one?”

drop like bombs into your psyche and resonate with your own twisted relationship experiences.

I sent Tom this video to watch because STOP IT is the first thing I think of when someone tells me that they’re afraid of sabotaging their wonderful NEW relationship:

Of course, what with me skipping out on meeting the new guy’s family, Tom had a choice video to send to me as well:

My new friendship is so balanced and healthy, I’m unsure what to do with myself and FOR SURE I’m afraid to leap in with both feet.

But it’s not because I’m enjoying my perfect image of him in my head right now.

No.

It’s because I’m afraid if he digs a little further and I open up he’ll realize that I’m damaged and won’t want me any more.

Of course, that’s just an irrational fear I have that I will need to get over.

With the new guy or anyone else who comes along.

I’m rather good at confronting my fears:  sailing, flying airplanes, racing cars, learning to OM, running with the bulls, etc.

So I don’t anticipate this will be a HUGE impossible hurdle for me and the new guy to get over.

It looks like I need to just take some of my own medicine and just STOP IT and enjoy myself.