Manscaping

We spend a lot of time discussing women’s hygiene and personal habits.

We seldom talk about men.

It strikes me that there is a BIG double standard (duh) between hygiene habits of women and hygiene habits of men.

I’ve never heard a man worry about how he smells or tastes down there.

And let me tell you, I’ve been with a few FUNKY men.

Why don’t men worry more?

They should (see above statement about funky men).

I knew a German who believed in “taking it all off.”

Everything was so nice and smooth and clean.

I have a picture of him in naught more than a parted bathrobe that literally freezes every woman in her tracks when I show it to them.

Of course there was also Charlie The Aussie who (when I suggested manscaping to him) promptly shut me down by saying, “I’m Australian. We don’t MANSCAPE.”

There must be a happy medium.

Some way a guy can take care of business but not so much that he starts to resemble something under 13 years old.

Would it kill a guy to TRIM?

Do a little weed whacking south of the border?

And, you know, wash thoroughly in the shower every time?

Perhaps shake it one or two EXTRA times till the last drop falls off?

I know it sounds crazy but I’m not a big fan of funk.

And the truth is, men could take a page out of the woman’s playbook and spend a little more time manscaping.

There’s always the EXTRA OPTICAL INCH to be gained!

What’s up Tinder?!

What’s up Tinder?!

It’s a hookup culture online.

I could go through men like a woman with hayfever goes through tissues in the spring.

Next!

Next!

Next!

It’s absolutely crazy how frequently I get asked for sex.

Dr. Blockhead is just one of MANY men who proposition me during our VERY FIRST TEXT conversation.

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, eh?

Well despite how displeased I am to get asked for sex all the fucking time (like I’m some sort of hooker), there are WORSE situations than that.

Worse than being a hooker?

Impossible.

But oh yes, there is.

My girlfriend suffers from what I call the “Buy me an iTunes card” phenomenon.

She’s been on Tinder a month and in that time she’s had 5 guys ask her for money – usually in the form of an iTunes gift card.

What?

Why an iTunes card?

But even more dumbfounding is that they’re asking at all.

Grown men.

Supposedly employed.

Are they looking for a sugar mama?

And if they are, shouldn’t they look like Zac Efron or George Clooney and not a paunchy, middle aged, balding engineer with poor taste in polo shirts?

I’m just saying.

Beware narcissists!

Years ago, I was in a relationship with a man whose ex-wife was a lesbian.

He railed on and on about her.

How she tricked him.

How she was all about herself.

He went so far as to call her a “narcissist.”

Now, between the two of us, he’s the expert.

He has four degrees in psychology while I have never taken a single psychology class in my life.

I did figure this out, however.

Beware the criticisms that people level at other people.

Often time that finger pointing should be aimed right at themselves.

I never met his ex-wife but it did occur to me that between the two of them, he probably suffered from narcissism as much as she did.

For this man was indeed the most frighteningly selfish man I’d ever met.

He’d make Ayn Rand proud.

The other day, I was texting with a man I met on Tinder and I asked about his ex-wife.

He launched into a tirade about how awful she is.

They only communicate in text messages so he has a record of what she’s said.

Yadda, yadda, yadda.

Oh, and by the way, she’s a NARCISSIST!

What’s that?

Oh?

That’s my cue to DISAPPEAR!

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Ecstatic Singles

I’m going to an Ecstatic Singles meetup with my friend Bagelfather.

I’m going to go for a couple of reasons:

  1. I like hanging out with Bagelfather. He’s smart and clever and makes me laugh and think about things in different ways.
  2. I swore off internet dating so I guess that means I have to do it the old fashioned way.
  3. I happen to have gone on a few retreats organized by the group producing the Ecstatic Singles workshop and I think it’ll be good for me to go and get back in touch with my sensitive side (which is what the retreats brought out of me).
  4. I haven’t been laid since unSCruz and it’s making me bitchy. Why just the other day I made a snarky comment about a 3 year old. A three year old baby! Bad Michelle!
  5. I need to practice my flirting. The Swede has been gone forever (and I will likely be in Burning Man for his next California visit) and I’m at a loss for finding men to flirt with.
  6. Eye gazing. I’m sure it’s going to happen. Just like I’m sure it’ll make me uncomfortable for a while. And then, as if by magic, I like it.
  7. There’s dancing! And I love to dance (even though I suck). Bring on the new age music, mama’s got to get her groove on.
  8. Have you ever seen a bunch of hippies dancing around a room ecstatically? It’s something to behold. The freedom of expression. The movement.
  9. I have the expectation that the men I meet will behave themselves better than the ones I meet online. I’m going to write a blog post about my experience.
  10. I’m happy being single. Which is precisely the state of mind I need to be in to meet someone special.

We shall see. . .

When this becomes the F*CKING RULE

Periodically, I clean out my phone of old text messages.

Yesterday, I came across an old text message from a man I nicknamed “DR. BLOCKHEAD.”

And when I looked at why I blocked him, it was too good to not share on my blog.

DR. BLOCKHEAD (who claimed to be an ER doctor) and I had been texting for about 10 minutes when my son asked me to go swimming with him.

So I told DR. BLOCKHEAD that I was going swimming.

And then THIS happened:

Now.

Just so you know, my ENTIRE profile (you can read it HERE) deals with this type of scenario – a guy trying to sexualize a woman way too soon.

Here it wasn’t even our first date.

I should’ve known something was off when he accused me of being an opiate addict.

He said my pupils in one of my photos were very constricted.

Ugh.

RED FLAG!

I literally couldn’t stomach this man who appeared to be doing everything he could to insult, offend, and sexualize me.

So, I BLOCKED him!

I’m sure by blocking him, I avoided subjecting myself to a slew of misogynist rants, sexual insults, and all-around general nastiness.

All things I’m willing to stay BLISFULLY unaware of.

But just so you know, DR. BLOCKHEAD isn’t the exception to the rule when it comes to the kind of men I meet.

He’s the FUCKING RULE.

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Coffee dates SUCK!!!

Dating sucks.

I have never been on a coffee date that went well.

It’s as if investing only $2 in your first meeting somehow destines it for failure.

What can you learn about someone in a 30 minute conversation that’s going to drive you wild for them?

Nothing.

At best, it’s a polite conversation about things that don’t matter.

At worst, it’s an awkward conversation about things that don’t matter.

It’s a waste of everyone’s time.

I personally prefer to share a meal with someone. To share a drink and perhaps get relaxed enough to get the real conversation flowing.

My $1000 date was fantastic.

Not because my date spent $1000 or because the $500 bottle of wine made me want to cry tears of joy.

No, it was because I had a connection with my date. We were both relaxed and the conversation flowed freely.

But a coffee date? Who falls in love over their Starbucks?

I suppose this is just a rant about not having the opportunity to connect with anyone on a meaningful level and blaming the coffee date for the lack of connection.

The truth is people do fall in love over lattes.

Just not this woman.

10 Things I Believe About Dating

1. Whether or not it is clear to you, the universe is unfolding exactly as it should.  Trust in it for the best outcome.

2. Kind should be his first attribute.  We’re just looking for a safe place to call home.  Your heart, above all else, need to be treated with kindness.

3. If he’s not kind to the waitstaff, he will eventually treat you the same way.  Pay attention and choose wisely.

4. Bad sex happens to good people.  But sex is like pizza… even when it’s bad, it’s still pretty good.

5. Drama is for thespians.  It’s a dimension adults create to live out a more heightened existence.  So unless you’re pursuing an Oscar, or your own reality show, leave the drama to the people who study it.

6. You can never say the wrong thing.  The things we are self conscious about , the cringe-worthy secrets, when revealed are the very things that make people like us.

7. Everyone has baggage.  But some people have a matching set of luggage.  It’s all in their approach to life.

8. Suave is overrated.  The truth is the man I want approaching me is the man who is nervous to ask, because he likes me that much.

9. Don’t get tied to outcomes.  Expectations can ruin a budding relationship.  Learn to relax and just enjoy the ride.

10. YOU ARE THE LOVE YOU SEEK.  I stopped thinking about when I am going to meet “the one” because I am in the process of making myself happy.

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?