“Proposed”

The Swede has proposed to me at least three times.

Now, when I say PROPOSED, I mean “proposed.”

Basically, he texted me his proposal and followed it with a wink.

I find this absolutely hilarious and I can’t wait until he “proposes” again.

The thing about The Swede is this.

I like him SO VERY MUCH but given that I only see him twice a year (and lately not even that often), I don’t know him well enough to move in and settle down with him despite the fact that I like his family, his children, and I’m not against moving to Sweden.

There are obvious benefits to living in Sweden.

For one, there’s no grifter President Trump running Sweden.

Sweden has a Royal Family and we all know how much I love Royals.

On the other hand my Swedish is atrocious, I’ve never lived in snow, and it’s very far away from Burning Man.

Le sigh.

I have been advised by another Swede to take The Swede’s proposals more seriously than I am.

Perhaps they do things differently in Sweden but in the USA, if there’s not a ring then it’s not a proposal.

And last I checked, proposals followed by winks NEGATE the proposal.

It’s fun to think about though.

Which is why I’m amused each time he suggests we get married.

And The Swede has not one, not two, but THREE wonderful kids I could absorb into my family.

Get them all US citizenship.

Get dual Swedish / US citizenship for myself.

Learn to speak Swedish properly.

See, I’ve thought this out a little.

😉

I “hate” men

Just to give you an update on my love life.

So far, my biggest challenge has been deciding whether or not to go out with James Hugecock or the guy who told me his ideal woman would have no gag reflex.

Clearly I need a reset.

A do-over.

Because this is not how I imagined I’d be treated while getting to know someone.

Has the whole entire world gone completely porn crazy?

I feel like I’m trapped in an XXX rated movie and I can’t get out.

There are things I understand.

When I go on hookup websites like Tinder I should expect to meet men looking for hookups.

But do they have to be so disrespectful about it?

Correct me if I’m wrong, but lately I get the feeling that the men I meet HATE women.

Their constant objectification turns me off.

I’m a hot blooded American woman.

I need to find a partner who knows how to be sexy AND respectful at the same time.

It’s not impossible.

There’s The Swede.

But he lives in Sweden.

And there’s Coke Can Dan.

But he’s off the market.

These are examples of good, decent men who know how to make a woman feel sexy AND respected at the same time.

It shouldn’t be so hard to find, should it?

So if you’re wondering where I’m at right now, I’m located at the corner of I HATE MEN STREET and FUCK INTERNET DATING ROAD.

Okay, I don’t hate ALL men.

I know a lot of decent men (who are not single or available).

But I’m giving up on trying to meet someone.

At least for a while until the amnesia sets in and the optimism takes over.

Broken

It has been SO LONG since I felt even a SMIDGE of love for a member of the opposite sex, it’s almost like I’m incapable of the emotion.

Oh sure, there was Luke AGES AGO.

And then The Pirate, who I imagined myself to be in love with.

But that was three years ago.

And NOTHING!

Should I worry?

Am I just not meeting men who tug at my heart strings or am I truly broken?

Yes, there’s The Swede who I simply ADORE.

He’s in my heart.

And there’s Coke Can Dan who makes me faint of heart.

But I’m not in love.

What’s up?

The other day someone called me “protective” and I think that’s true.

I am protective.

And NERVOUS about falling for someone.

But I KNOW FOR CERTAIN that I just haven’t felt the tug to go in the direction of love in the past few years.

Because when all is said and done, I am a RISK TAKER.

And given even a GLIMPSE of sharing happiness with another human being, I will risk getting hurt EVERY TIME.

And let me tell you this, I MEET A LOT OF MEN.

A LOT.

So why I’m not in love is a mystery to me.

Maybe I’m broken.

Disappointed

The Swede is not coming to Burning Man.

I would say that I’m sad about it, but in truth I saw it coming and was resigned to it before it even happened.

I was really looking forward to having him there and seeing Burning Man through the eyes of someone who has never been there before.

He was a good sport about it, and I have to give him credit for that.

Not everyone wants to spend a week in a hot and dusty desert surrounded by freaks, hippies, ravers, artists and musicians.

I think he initially agreed to go simply because of my enthusiasm for the event.

But it’s not like I’m going to Burning Man by myself.

I’ll be traveling with Tejas and I have my whole camp there as my small community within the larger Burning Man community to keep me entertained and connected.

Still, it gives me pause.

I will miss The Swede.

And even though I was expecting this, I am sad to lose his companionship.

I will have to send him pics and texts from the burn.

It’s not the same as being there, but it’s the best I can do to let him know that he is missed.

New Baby Smell

When I was in Sweden this year, I met a couple expecting their second baby.

They hosted The Swede and I over the New Year’s holiday.

We played Monopoly in Swedish and The Swede declared that I lost because I tapped out and sold all my properties at below cost value to his competitors.

The Swede won anyway.

And he declared me to be a cheater.

I’m sure if you asked him now he’d still say I cheated.

But I digress. . .

The other day, a picture flashed across my Facebook page of a beautiful newborn baby girl.

With the Swede.

Now, I don’t know about you but there is something very sexy about a man holding a baby.

It actually makes my ovaries shudder in the same way that my ovaries shudder when I see a fireman.

If my ovaries had a voice I’m sure they’d be screaming, “IMPREGNATE ME NOW!”

But as far as the baby goes, I can just imagine the fragrance wafting off her soft, peach fuzz head.

And just the thought makes me giddy.

There’s just something about that new baby smell that makes women want to self-impregnate so that they too can have a reliable source of it.

New baby smell = the middle aged woman’s crack.

I’m going to Burning Man!

Amidst all the planning for the Bare Burn, I am also trying to organize myself for the BIG burn.

Burning Man, itself.

I got my tickets and vehicle pass in the mail this past weekend which got me all excited about my upcoming trip to the desert.

There’s a lot of planning that goes into Burning Man trips.

A lot less planning though now that I’ve been there a couple of times already.

My stuff is loosely organized.

I have Burning Man outfits to wear.

My only problem is I don’t know where I’m going to sleep.

Will I be in Teja’s RV?

Will I be in a tent?

Am I driving my truck there?

Is The Swede joining us and if so, do I need to get a bigger tent to accommodate him?

All these questions need answers.

But if I’ve learned nothing from Burning Man, I’ve learned that even the best laid plans go astray and I need to worry less about the plan and focus more on being as prepared as I can be.

Diagonal clippers.

Twine.

Duct tape.

Multitool.

Lights.

Face mask.

Goggles.

Shade structure.

Honestly, just making a list gets me all excited because I know I’M GOING TO BURNING MAN!

The Swede and I

Okay.

So The Swede is coming to Burning Man.

So far.

That MIGHT change, but for now, it’s still in the stars.

And in order to prep myself to go to the playa, the land of temptation and pleasure, with someone I’m dating, I really want to read more about playa relationships.

Specifically, there was an article that was circulated around in 2015 – my virgin year – which outlined the stresses relationships go through on the playa and how to deal with those stresses, which I am trying to locate.

Without any luck.

That’s right.

I can find a fucking lavender and teal ombre party dress on the internet, but I can’t find this article, which I recall was fairly substantial.

So, considering the knowledge out there that all my burner friends have, what are your top tips on how to manage a relationship at the burn?

I mean obviously there’s “Make sure each of you has alone time.”

And “Communicate. Communicate. Communicate.”

But there’s got to be more to it than alone time and communication.

What do I do if he asks to go to the Orgy Dome?

How do I greet my friends if I can’t kiss them?

How do I politely ask him to get naked with me and go to the Saunadome?

How do I make sure I respect his boundaries during the burn?

And so many more questions!

So help me out and give me your suggestions.

I’d love to hear some ideas on how to manage a relationship on playa by someone who has actually done just that.

Dry Spell

It’s been a dry spring for me.

And by dry, I mean no dates.

Not that I’ve given up, mind you – just that I haven’t been actively pursuing dates like I did in the past.

It felt like I had a date every day of the week.

I lived on Tinder and POF.

Now?

Not so much.

I’ve given up the ghost of internet dating.

All I seem to find are porn addicts, foot worshipers, and men who want to have anal sex with me.

The pickings are pretty slim, if you ask me.

I can’t remember the last time I met someone authentic through one of those sites.

But there is The Swede.

I got lucky with him.

And by lucky, I mean that he is an amazing man.

It’s too bad he lives 5,000 miles away.

I’ve been getting out a lot anyway.

My friends make sure I stay busy and have fun with or without a date.

Mostly what I miss?

The flirtation.

Oh, I’d die to make eyes with someone from across the room all night long.

Or spend the night making clever flirty conversation with a man.

And let me tell you, I MISS KISSING.

And other things. . .

But we’re not going there because talking about it JUST MAKES IT WORSE.

My last relationship ended over 4 years ago and I figure it’s about time to usher in a new chapter of my life where I find someone amazing and couple up with him.

It is seriously time for this dry spell to END!

Milestones

May 13, 2016

According to Tinder, that’s the day that I first met The Swede.

Some of you have been asking how I met The Swede and the truth is I met him on Tinder.

He was on a business trip to the Bay Area from his home in Stockholm, Sweden and was looking for a tour guide.

I was online looking to meet someone cool.

I agreed to take him to Santa Cruz.

I love going to Santa Cruz and playing tour guide to people who are unfamiliar with the area.

We ate on the wharf, played air hockey (he won), and I made him take off his shoes and dip his feet in the Pacific Ocean.

I taught him to eat raw oysters, though he wasn’t a big fan.

He was soft spoken and shy, unlike me.

He left for home the next day and I thought I’d never see him again.

But of course I did see him on his next trip.

And his next trip.

And then I got on a plane and flew to Stockholm to visit him!

It took 3 dates to get him to kiss me, but now that we’ve kissed, the trick is getting us to STOP KISSING.

Well, the WHOLE reason why I’m writing this post is because it’s May 2018 – which means I have officially known him for TWO WHOLE YEARS!

Milestones.

Viking Porn

It’s been a long time since I thought about Charlie the Aussie.

Charlie was named after ALL HIS RELATIVES.

His had one first name – Charles – and 7 middle names.

If it sounds like he was royalty, that’s because he was royalty.

He was a Knight in the Order of Australia, an honor he received because he crewed a sailboat that sailed from Australia to the Orient (I’m not sure where, this detail has escaped me) as part of an anniversary celebration.

Charlie was magnificent.

He would run marathons in the wilderness.

He could sail ships (obviously) and if you blindfolded him and dropped him off in the desert with a Snickers and a liter of water, he would FIND HIS WAY BACK HOME, no big deal.

Needless to say, I really adored Charlie.

Sadly however, Charlie did not adore me back.

He had a wife (he was separated, not divorced) and a special needs son and in the end, Charlie went back to his wife and he quickly became just a fond memory for me.

So why do I bring him up now?

Well, Facebook has somehow figured out that I know him and keeps flashing his face for me to “add as a friend.”

Now.

Facebook knows what I shopped online for two days ago.

They flash it in my sidebar.

They also know what I had for dinner last night.

And they like to remind me of it daily.

So I’m surprised that Facebook hasn’t figured out a way to keep ex-boyfriends from showing up in your “Potential Friends” list.

That way lies nothing but sorrow.

I’m waiting for Facebook to figure out that I’m moved on from Aussies to Swedes.

Don’t remind me of Aussie disappointments.

Show me some Viking porn.