Stood Up

Did I ever tell you about the time I got stood up by a Tinder date?

It was my first time EVER getting stood up.

Sadly, it would not be the last time.

The thing was, I was kind of excited about this date and so I popped in at home, brushed my teeth, fluffed my hair, and actually misted myself with spray glitter.

Yes, I know, how very millennial of me, no?

And very playa unfriendly.

But I wasn’t on the playa, I was in Los Gatos.

We were scheduled to meet at at Oak & Rye, a nice pizza place that serves my favorite beer – Panty Peeler by Midnight Sun.

As I’m WALKING INTO THE RESTAURANT, I happen to glance at my phone and I have a message from my date.

Well, that’s a nice how-do-you-do?

I was peeved by the whole experience.

AND HE SPELLED MY NAME WRONG!

Mentally, I wrote him off.

Flake.

I was sorely tempted to reply:

NO RAINCHECK NEEDED!

But that’s just my inner bitch freaking out.

I actually sent no reply.

Sometimes actions speak louder than words.

In praise of HANDSY men

I’m just going to come out and say it:

I like a man with grabby hands.

You know EXACTLY what I’m talking about if you have the same affinity for it as I do.

A handsy man is one who is constantly touching you.

Grabbing for you.

Getting up in your space and making you feel his presence.

I love this.

Charlie The Aussie was a handsy man.

So is The Swede.

As far as lovers go, a handsy man makes an OUTSTANDING partner.

You’re right in the middle of doing one thing when all of a sudden, out of nowhere, you discover he’s also doing something else.

Like with the Swede, one hand would be up in my hair, messing it up, and pulling on it and I’d discover the other one was stroking my, ahem, chest.

It’s quite a thrill, if you catch my drift.

My friend Yvonne said that she felt starved for touch after her husband passed away.

I think he was a handsy man.

She said he was always touching her.

It occurs to me that out of the Five Love Languages, TOUCH is one of them.

Maybe this is how Yvonne’s late husband, Charlie The Aussie, and The Swede show affection.

Then again, maybe they’re just REALLY EXCELLENT LOVERS.

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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 teen girls sexy.

Super creepy!

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

You do now, don’t you?

Dating Pet Peeves

1

Bad tipping.  Maybe it’s because I worked in foodservice in high school and as a barista in college, but bad tippers are my pet peeve.  I once went on a date to a fancy cocktail lounge where the bartender takes 3 – 4 minutes to mix and muddle the perfect $14 cocktail.  On a $30 bill, my date left a measly $2 tip.  I hastily dropped a few more bills on the tab when my date wasn’t looking.

2

Being late.  I waited in a wine bar for my date to show up for almost an hour once.  I ordered my first glass of wine and the waitstaff felt so bad for me they gave me a HUGE pour.  When my date arrived, he received a SMALL pour.  Ha ha.  Divine justice, if you ask me.  There was no second date.

3

Bad kissers.  You’d think by the time we reach 20 we’d know how to kiss but no, there are people out there that still suck face like amateurs.  I have little patience for someone who is a bad kisser.  If you can’t figure out it’s a game of mutuality instead of tonsil hockey, I’m done with you.

4

Bad breath.  Oh god, you know what I mean.  I once went on a date where I could smell his breath from across the table.  I always carry a discreet packet of mints with me and I wanted to discreetly suggest that he eat them all.

5

Being negative.  You know who I’m talking about.  That person who will list of 10 things that are wrong before they list one thing that’s right.  Mr. or Mrs. Downer.  It’s exhausting and draining to be around them.  Next!

7

Being self-absorbed.  I went on one date with a fireman.  He was so into himself his head fairly floated above his body.  If at the end of the date he could’ve told me anything about me (like my name), I would’ve been shocked.

8

The alcoholic.  This is the person who sits down across from you and then drinks nonstop throughout the meal, barely pausing to eat and breathe.  Or they talk incessantly about all the parties they throw/go to and how obliterated they’ve gotten.  Yawn.  We’re not 21 anymore.

9

Being rude.  There’s nothing worse than going to a restaurant with a date and watching them be rude to the waitstaff.  This drives me completely batty.  Again, I worked in foodservice so I know how hard it can be.  I do not trust a man who is nice to me and rude to other people.

10

The cell phone addict.  I once went on a date with an attorney that was so horrifically bad – involving two standard poodles and a 6 year old.  As if that wasn’t bad enough, he kept answering his phone.  We barely said 10 words to eachother.  I’m still traumatized from that date.

So I met Joe

Joe is handsome and funny.

Not exactly the tallest guy I’ve ever met, but still can hold his own in a showdown with me in 4” heels.

Joe is a diver and it excites him that I am a Rescue Diver.

Of course, he doesn’t know I haven’t dove in years because of that panic attack I had underwater caused by blood pressure changes in a too tight wetsuit hood.

Joe called me up and we chatted for a little while.

He is keen to go out and I was kind of excited too.

He’s got daughters after all and Lord knows I want to wind up with a man with daughters.

All on account of I have none of my own.

In so many ways, Joe seemed PERFECT for me.

Daughters. Adventurous spirit. World traveler. Funny.

So I showed his profile to Barbara, just to see if he could get the BARBARA STAMP OF APPROVAL.

Barbara is probably the toughest of all my friends to approve the men I date.

She’s not called The Hammer for nothing.

LOL

And that’s when it happened.

I glanced at his profile and saw “Separated” as his marital status.

As in STILL FUCKING MARRIED!

Jesus F. Christ!

Nevermind.

Reliving the good and the bad

Just the other day I was chatting with Yvonne over dinner and the topic of Lupin Lodge came up in comparison to Harbin Hot Springs.  In my experience, Harbin is a bit more comfortable a space to walk around naked in than Lupin Lodge on account of the guys chasing tail at Lupin.

I had to go back and read Yvonne some of my posts from my first trip to SoulFire (which are now private on account of them mentioning He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Mentioned.

So I’m posting some of what I wrote below:

 

What could I possibly write to capture the bright lights, holographic, mystical fun that was SoulFire?

It was, in all honesty, the best party I’ve ever been to with 350 of my closest and dearest friends.  You instantly felt at home.

It was also an ego fest for me.

Two younger men, Father Figure and Mr. Security, were chasing my tail. Father Figure did it much better than Mr. Security, who felt compelled to adjust my top without my permission whenever he felt like it.

I was camping with Tejas in his RV.

motorbeastIt was hard, hot work setting up camp, which is great when you’re having sex but sucks when you’re organizing an RV.

We set up on Friday afternoon and got down to the business of having fun with other guests.

I wore my Orgasm Donor t-shirt.

orgasm donorWe went to our local pub – the Dusty Bumm. The Dusty Bumm has a ceiling canopy made entirely of women’s thongs. I have a black vinyl one I want to donate to the cause.

At the Dusty Bumm, they’d make you whatever drink they could for you and then you’d stand around and enjoy it with new friends.

Everyone was friendly at SoulFire. Everyone hugged hello and goodbye.

Everyone kissed.

It was heaven.

Tejas and I ventured to the pool and hot tub and had some fun soaking while he talked to people about OMing.

I left (naked) with Mr. Security, who showed me his hut in the mountains and shared a “cigarette” with me.

The rest of the evening is mostly a blur of walking around naked, finding my clothes, going back to my RV. Trying to find Tejas. Mr. Security cooking dinner for me because I was too drunk to do it myself.

After eating dinner, Mr. Security and I decided to wander around. We made our way to the Dusty Bumm. I was wearing nothing but a tank top and red underwear at this point. Someone came up to me and told me I needed to help Tejas, that he was really drunk.

I found Tejas sitting on a bench across from the Dusty Bumm, happy as a clam and ready to go to bed.

With the help of a Ranger, we managed to walk him to the RV where I got him ready for bed, before he crashed.

It’s wasn’t a super late night, but it wasn’t an early one either.

So to recap:

  • Michelle was so drunk a guy had to cook her dinner
  • Tejas got so drunk he had to go to bed early
  • Michelle lost her clothes, then found them hours later
  • Michelle walked around naked for a while
  • Tejas had a great time having women sit on his lap at the Dusty Bumm

A GREAT time was had by all and my only regret is that I can’t remember more of the evening. But hopefully that’ll return to me in time. Until then, party on, right!

 

UPDATE:  I NEVER recovered any more memories of that night.  WHAT was in that cigarette?

Overwhelmed with men

Okay, even I have to admit I did not expect this strong a response to my new Match.com profile.

I was simply honest in my approach to where I am as far as dating goes.

And it sounds like it resonates with a lot of men.

Some of them have sent me their own worst date stories.

Others have apologized for the sleazy men I keep running into.

Still others compliment my “fresh and funny” approach to my profile.

I just told the truth.

I’m literally at my wits end as far as dating goes.

I’m one bad date away from giving it all up.

Again.

Right now, I’m messaging several men and I’m happy to report that some of them are not my typical “lumberjack” fare.

That means I’m branching out and looking through a wider variety of men for someone appropriate for me.

It’s not easy to do.

I tend to want to dismiss anyone who isn’t at least 5’10” tall with a beard and tattoos.

But I’m working on not letting my image of what I think is the perfect man for me ruin the reality of who could be a perfect man for me.

In any case, I firmly believe that there are lots of men out there that I could fall in love with. Given enough time, everyone tends to grow on me.

It’s just finding that man who falls in love with me that’s the hard part!

Wish Me Luck

I went ahead and changed my Match.com profile to THIS.

And ever since I did, my “phone” has been ringing off the hook.

One guy called my profile refreshing.

Another man apologized for all the creeps out there.

And yet another referred to my profile as “honest and funny.”

So far so good.

I haven’t received any dick pics or any requests for guys to “cum in my ass” so that’s a plus!

Maybe this profile will filter out the majority of the sex perverts and unavailable men.

One can hope.

Because I’ve met Bob.

Bob is a big guy. Heavily tattooed. With a nice trim beard.

Exactly what I look for, no?

Well, we shall see.

He did text me at 5 O’CLOCK IN THE FUCKING MORNING.

Just to let me know he was up.

These are the things I DON’T NEED TO KNOW.

You know?

Not at 5 o’clock in the morning, anyways.

Despite his unfortunate lack of sensibility when it comes to early morning communications, I like Bob.

He seems like a nice guy, albeit an intimidating one what with his LANDSCAPE of tattoos.

Wish me luck!

Par for the course

I really don’t want to write this post.

I met ANOTHER man who turned out to be ANOTHER dirtbag.

I’m sort of a little stunned by this turn of events.

Even though it seems to happen all the time now.

We met online and started texting.

I gave him my phone number and we continued to text directly.

He seemed interesting – successful, handsome, South American. . .

Then he sent me some wonky texts, hinting at a BDSM inclination.

So I was direct:

Now, it’s not that I mind BDSM activities. Power exchange can be a lot of fun. But when you lead with that, it makes me think there’s very little behind the façade and I lose interest.

I realized this guy had no long term prospects with me so I decided to play with him a bit.

We sexted.

Yes, I’m not so proud that I did it, but hey, I was lonely and horny and he was there.

We went back and forth with fantasies.

He of course assumed he could top me and so in the end, his final text to me was “I came right in your tight ass.”

Really?

Cuz that does absolutely NOTHING for me.

Sigh.

I disappeared pretty quickly once I watched his final video.

“I hate to sext and run but I’m falling asleep.”

And I was.

It was 2 am!

So there you have it. Michelle meets a guy. Guy turns out to be a dirtbag. Michelle uses the guy for sexting and the guy ruins it in the last sentence.

Par for the course, my friends.

Par for the course.

Hobby Contest

One of the things that happens when you go on a date with someone new is you ask them what their hobbies are.

What do you do for fun?

What are your hobbies?

Tell me something interesting about you.

New Guy and I were texting and talking peripherally about hobbies when he asked, “Do you want to have a hobby contest?”

Oh, it’s on.

I have this little adventure blog called unblunder that I’ve been feeding hobbies for years. No one, and I mean no one, can beat me when it comes to hobbies.

I have too many to count.

I started: I’m a PADI certified Rescue Diver.

Him: I’m a certified water polo coach.

Me: I have my own adventure blog.

Him: Secretary past master Masonic lodge.

I’m not sure what this is, but okay.

Me: I’ve raced stock cars at the Stockton 99 raceway.

Him: Crap.

Him: I am an expert ping pong player.

Me: I’ve been skydiving.

Him: I’ve spearfished a shark.

Me: I ran with the bulls.

Him: I was kidnapped by a leper colony in Brazil.

At this point I laughed and I laughed and I laughed hard. I THOUGHT he was joking, so I followed with my own joke.

Me: I can paint with my toes.

Him: I sailed a 42 foot sloop through a hurricane and tropical storm for 1300 mils in the Atlantic.

Wha?????

Me: We’re you joking, because I was. I can’t paint with my toes.

And this folks is how Michelle becomes impressed with a man. When he sails a boat through a hurricane.

OMG.