Working the numbers

I ran into a man I dated today.

He and I work at the same company, though in different buildings, and we somehow managed to not run into each other in the 6 years since we dated.

He looked great and it was nice to see him.

He recognized me and came over to talk.

He’s married now.

To the woman he stopped dating me for which (ironically) I found very comforting.

It sucks to be dropped but when someone meets The One, it’s understandable.

So we caught up.

All is well in his neck of the woods.

And all is well with me.

We discussed internet dating for a while.

We met on Match which is where he met his wife.

I’ve heard one in eight marriages start online.

Maybe even more now.

His take on internet dating:  it’s a numbers name and you need thick skin to play but you can meet the person of your dreams online if you’re patient and thorough.

So I’m not feeling so bad that I’m already back online meeting men through Tinder.

In fact, I’m feeling optimistic about my date tomorrow with The Airman.

The Airman is in the military and had traveled all over the world but is originally from New Jersey, a state I’ve never been to.

All his kids are college age and older so he’s in the same boat as me:  getting ready to retire and travel.

Wish me luck!

I may not be thick skinned but I’m definitely working the numbers.

Old Lady

I have an interesting hobby for a 45 year old woman.

I quilt.

I’ve been quilting for 20 years and because of this, my Instagram feed show a lot of work in progress quilts and finished quilts.

My Instagram is linked to my Tinder account so all the men I match with can see my handiwork.

Some of my quilts turned out quite beautiful, like this one I made for Barbara over Christmas break last year and one I made for family friends who lost their son with a pattern called
Storm at Sea:

If you were to ask me what kind of art do I make, I’d tell you I’m into textile arts.

I LOVE my quilts and every single one I’ve made has been donated to friends or family, with a lot of love.

It takes time and patience and a little bit of serendipity to turn fabric by the yard into a pieced quilt.

I proud of the work I do.

So you can imagine my surprise when someone on Tinder MADE FUN of my quilting.

“Wouldn’t know you’re 45 except for the quilting,” he texted me.

I defended myself, saying that I make modern quilts, not grandma quilts.

He replied by saying, “All quilts are grandma quilts.”

So, I present to you my impression of a grandma quilt and my impression of a modern quilt and you tell me if you can’t tell the difference:

Needless to say, homeboy didn’t get too far in seducing me.

Women don’t take kindly to being aged beyond their years and just because I make quilts DOES NOT make me a grandma.

Hmph!

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.

Date #2

I’ve shut off my profile in Tinder.

It’s not what you think.

I’m not giving up.

I’m just creating a little space for me and the new guy to get to know each other without the distraction of other men texting me.

In case you’re wondering, I did get a lot of hookup requests.

One from a guy who wanted, “KFC and cowgirl AT THE SAME TIME.”

I kid you not.

Could I make that up?

Funny enough, I read that wrong and thought he was looking for KFC and A COWGIRL and so I messaged him telling him I had a cowboy hat and like KFC only to realize I made a HUGE mistake.

LOL.

I save my random hookups for Burning Man.

SERIOUSLY.

It’s the one place I let myself enjoy the physicality of other people just for the hell of it.

Case in point:  a sexy bodybuilder who liked my ass and wanted to see more of it on the playa.

I indulged in a private showing.

Sadly, his cocaine habit interfered with his performance, but I still remember him fondly.

I’m sure he has NO PROBLEM finding dates on Tinder.

So here I sit, having shut off my Tinder profile, wondering what comes next.

Date two, I suppose.

We’ve already discussed going camping in the new guy’s brand new trailer.

And bringing him to a village meeting to see (of all people) Rachel Lark perform her brand of bawdy storytelling.

But all that is weeks in the future.

What we need is something we can do now.

Like catch a movie.

Go on a hike.

Grab another meal together.

Anything, so long as I get to see him again.

She’s got mad skills

All right, so I’m back to online dating.

Basically because I don’t meet single men at my job and I’m too lazy to go out every night trolling for men.

So, Tinder.

Within a few minutes of downloading Tinder to my phone, I had a handful of matches.

All healthy looking Bay Area lumberjacks (with beards, naturally).

One quickly proved to be only interested in rubbing aloe vera on my poor sunburned breasts.

His suggestion, not mine.

The other has shown himself to be made of more substantial matter – conversing with me without making a single comment about breasts, sunburns, and rubbing aloe vera on my sunburned chest.

I unmatched the man who wanted to rub my breasts with aloe.

Why waste our time?

Although I did (for a second) think about how fun it would be to sext him and his sexy beard.

I’ve decided I’m going to improve on vetting the men who reach out to me.

Make sure there’s some basic features available:

  1. Would never vote for Trump (not in 2016, not in 2020).
  2. If he doesn’t have a beard, is willing to grow one.
  3. Would enjoy attending Burning Man, not just tolerate the experience.
  4. Like kids, because I’ve got two (granted they’re both almost of age now, but still).
  5. Is an animal lover (compassion is key).
  6. Is emotionally intelligent as well as intellectually intelligent.

I’ve also been advised, by Barbara, to let her vet potential dates by introducing them to her before the fifth date.

The fifth date is when all the oxytocin (bonding hormone) sets in and I start being oblivious to all his faults.

And we all know that Barbara is The Hammer and can sort appropriate men from inappropriate men JUST LIKE THAT.

She’s got mad skills.

Disappearing Act

Tinder wants me back.

Clearly, I am a winner and they don’t want to lose me.

Ahem.

Or maybe they just need more women on Tinder.

Either way, they emailed me today to tell me I’m going to DISAPPEAR if I don’t log in soon.

Just like that.

I will disappear.

The app that gave me The Former Mormon, the guy who LOVES TO EAT TACOS, and the cretin who moved his glass so that he “could see my tits better.”

Oh boy!

Thanks, but no thanks.

Actually, in honesty it hasn’t been all bad.

I made three friends through Tinder – Will, The Swede, and Nathan.

So it’s not like I’ve had a dreadful time.

It’s just that Tinder is so REPETITIVE.

I feel like, for the most part, I’m having the same date with a slightly different guy at my usual hangout where I am sure they must think I’m a dating FIEND given all the dates I’ve taken there.

So I guess you’re wondering, given that The Swede in all likelihood will not make it to California for the holiday break, am I even TEMPTED to get back online to meet men?

And the answer to that is a resounding, reverberating, echoing NO!

Not in this lifetime.

I’ve just done it enough to realize that for the most part people who online date like to play the field and I’m sick of going on first dates that lead nowhere.

Physically, my dates are present.

Emotionally, they’re closed off.

I’m not sure how I will wind up going on dates, but one thing is sure.

I am DONE with Tinder.

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.

Crash and burn

Out of the blue I got a message from someone I met on Tinder a year ago.

“Where in the world are you?” he asked.

Odd question.

“At work,” I replied.

“I was in Denmark a few weeks ago and you popped up on Tinder. It said you were only a few hundred miles away,” he queried.

“Oh, I was in Sweden visiting friends,” I told him.

He then asked me to come back so that I could go skiing with him in Austria or Switzerland.

Hmmmmm.

I don’t ski.

Never learned and I think it’s a skill best learned when you’re younger and fearless.

I told him as much.

Well lo-and-behold he used to be a ski instructor at Squaw Valley in the winter. He can teach me to ski.

No thanks, I can passably snowboard.

Half-lie.

The last time I snowboarded I broke my tailbone.

“So you don’t want to come boarding with me? We can hit the slopes during the day and explore other activities in the evening.. . .” he hinted.

“No thanks,” I replied.

“I’ll leave you alone then,” he responded.

Please.

Sorry but this girl only travels halfway around the world to meet her Swede, not some random dude I exchanged a few text messages with on Tinder a year ago.

Momma didn’t raise no fool.

Panty dropping

So there I am, minding my own business on Tinder. .

Yes, on Tinder.

I’m not having sex but I’m still dating.

In any case, I get a message from a guy called Larry.

Larry sends me a GIF.

It’s a GIF of a woman from the waist down.

She’s standing in high heels and wearing a short skirt.

All of a sudden, her panties drop to the floor and she steps out of them.

THIS IS HIS FIRST COMMUNICATION WITH ME.

O. M. G.

Why do I always get the sex perverts and fuckwits?

So I do the only thing I can think of.

I insult him.

I write back “Thanks for dropping your panties for me. While I don’t usually go for men who wear ladies underwear, I’m willing to give it a shot. Would you like to wear my red panties or my black panties?”

It was the most obnoxious thing I could think of saying in response to such a stupid opening “line.”

His response?

Classic.

He closed the connection.

Yes!

I’m finally doing something right!

Save

Nooner?

I LITERALLY just started messaging this guy Jerry.

He seemed nice enough.

A bit of a daredevil seeing as how he sent me a pic of him way up in the air overlooking power lines.

Well, he DARED to be as ASSHOLE and I DARED to turn him down.

Has he even READ my profile?

You know, the one where I say that there’s more interesting things to me than just what my VAGINA can do?!?!

Good fucking grief!

I can’t win, can I?