Mommy

I’ve been waiting for the right moment to tell this story.

It’s the story of me and someone I dated who had an infantilism fetish.

Now the first thing you should know is that I don’t knock anyone’s fetish.

And because of that, I thought well hey, maybe I can do this.

After all, I’ve got the muffins for it.

But as it turns out, no.

I do not have the composition necessary to engage in these activities.

For one, the milk has long since dried up and I’m not anxious to get it back.

I felt like a big lactating cow when I was nursing my kids.

Not sexy.

And another thing – when someone calls me “mommy” I think of my babies which is great when you’re raising kids but awful when you’re trying to get your groove on.

I politely asked him to me called “Mimi” instead of “mommy” but that didn’t cut it with this guy.

My foray into infantilism lasted all of one date.

When it’s not for you, it’s clear that IT’S NOT FOR YOU.

And that’s when I realized I was looking for something different.

Perhaps a man who doesn’t sign all his text messages with the milk bottle and water droplet emoji.

Now, you may think of this as a setback but every time I clarify one more thing I’m not looking for, and I’m confident it’s not for me, well that just puts me one step closer to knowing what I DO want.

So I can confidently say I know one more thing about myself.

I’ll get to where I need to be by process of elimination.

Thievery

I steal a lot.

And I steal from my friends and family.

Personally, I think you’re a dope if you don’t steal a little bit of the people you love and take it with you wherever you go.

It’s one of the great pleasures of life, to be able to learn new things from other people and have those skills, memories and passions continue on.

Jay taught me appreciation for craft beer and craft cocktails.

My heart skips a beat when I see a great cocktail menu.

And, I simply can’t listen to any Christmas music without thinking of him.

I’m glad a part of him stuck with me even after we split.

Steve taught me Highland Games sports.

My ability to throw a caber I owe completely to him.

And, of course, he was with me when I bought my truck so every time I see my truck I think of him and his massive chest and muscular legs fitting inside that truck when we took it for a test drive.

I stole from Charlie The Aussie as well.

I took his Australian sense of adventure and incorporated that into my blog – doing everything from going to Burning Man to running with the bulls.

I’m pretty sure he’s the entire reason why I ran a half marathon in Big Sur in 2010 and raised $5,000 for the Ronald McDonald House at Packard Children’s Hospital.

I could go on and on about The Swede.

Because of him I can say “I love you” in Swedish.

And I simply can’t eat spicy food without remembering the time he fed me a spicy chocolate truffle which had me hanging my tongue under the faucet.

He also taught me passion for hockey, and though I seldom attend games I enjoy watching the Sharks play on TV and I remember watching The Swede’s talented daughter playing goalie when I was visiting in Sweden.

But by and large, the man who challenged me the most when it comes to learning about another person’s passions is The Professor.

He taught me that accepting the status quo is tantamount to stagnation.

He encouraged me to test my edges and learn new things about myself, not just him.

And without giving too much away, I simply can’t look at Machu Picchu without thinking about him and all his adventurous world travels.

In the end, these are the pieces that are left behind with me when relationships end and I move on.

I think it’s great to hold on to the positive and forget the negative.

We are shaped by the relationships that we forge and I for one am really happy with how things have turned out, even if I’ve been turned into an adventurous, traveling cocktail snob with non-mainstream relationship goals.

A little more love in the world

I’ve been single for 15 years, with a few notable relationships:

I can’t forget Steve, literally the smartest man I’ve ever dated.

Or Drew, who was the TALLEST at 6’11” tall.

Jay was the sweetest and the closest I came to pure happiness.

But he was followed by The Professor who altered my life forever by teaching me to test my edges.

The Swede captured my heart despite the unsurmountable distance between us.

And continuing with the international theme, I was totally enamored with Charlie The Aussie, who was the most adventurous man I ever met.

Finally, there’s Luke who I don’t really care to remember that often on account of his poor post-miscarriage behavior.

There has been a smattering of other men thrown in, but those are the highlights.

I’m starting to think, because I’ve been single for so long, that I make a pretty good single person.

I keep busy with friends and family.

I have a sex life.

Occasionally, it’s even robust.

It may be unusual and atypical for a single female living in the Bay Area but it keeps me happy.

Pretty much the only thing I miss from being coupled up is having someone to remind me when it’s time to rotate my tires.

The only reason why I’m looking AT ALL is because I don’t want to be single in my sunset years.

I want to travel and explore the world with someone when I retire.

Share history with someone.

Can’t blame me for working toward a goal.

Especially when the goal is to create a little more love in this world.

Magic is what you make of it

Disney loveMagic always comes with a prince

At least that’s what Disney and Hollywood lead you to believe.

Of course lately, there’s been less focus on the prince and more focus on the heroine, but you get the picture – love, above all, makes the story.

And how are we single ladies supposed to feel about this in real life?

Well, I’ll tell you, being single has never hurt my social life. In fact, I think I get out more and do more things simply because I don’t have a partner to hang out at home with eating pizza and drinking beer with on a Saturday night.

Being single didn’t hurt me when I was racing cars at the Stockton 99.

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Being single especially didn’t hurt me when I was leaping from an airplane with a hot man and a parachute strapped to my back.

And it certainly didn’t hurt me when I went to the Alameda County Fairgrounds and ran with the bulls.

photo 4No, being single hasn’t hurt one bit.

Even my more carnal urges somehow manage to get taken care of.

So what then is my life missing without a man to “complete” me?

The answer is nothing.

I have friends and family who give me love and camaraderie and lovers who give me intimacy.

Everything else is icing on the cake.

Sure, it’s magical when life and love come with a prince.

But it sure as hell isn’t required.

Magic, is what you make of it.

Latin lover

I want to date a Spaniard.

Or maybe a man from South America.

The bottom line is, I am ready to meet a sexy Latin lover.

Why am I talking like this?

Well, I met a hot, sexy Latin man last week and ever since then I’ve been dreaming about the possibilities.

I’m not without my own Latin man experiences.

My father was born in South America and immigrated to the US when he was young.

So I’m used to having impassioned, strong-willed, masculine men in my life.

Maybe this guy will ask me out and I’ll get a chance to sample the pleasures of dating a Latin man.

Maybe he won’t.

The bottom line is my bucket list is sadly lacking in this department and I intend to remedy this.

Right away.

Starting with finding a sexy Latin man to date.

Watch out Tinder, ‘cuz I’m coming for you. . .

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!

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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.