#3

I met date #3 on Tinder. We ‘matched’ over a month ago, but after exchanging hellos, we stopped messaging each others. Then last week he randomly reached out again and we started up a conversation. We messaged back and forth for a few days before exchanging numbers and eventually setting up a date.

We live relatively close to each other, so I picked a place that was between the two of us. Unfortunately, I didn’t realize that the place I chose wasn’t open on Mondays…oops. Luckily, the bar two doors down was open, so we went in there to grab a drink. 

We started talking about our families, and I mentioned that my Uncle was an amazing cook, and joked that my friends often fall in love with him because is food is so delicious. To which he replied “I hope I get to meet him one day.”

It’s been less than a half hour and he’s talking about meeting my family? I thought it was a little strange, but I didn’t really look too much into it.

Then we were talking about Brooklyn and how he never goes out here because he works in Manhattan and all his friends live in Manhattan. So I asked him why he doesn’t just move to Manhattan? He said “well, my lease is up in November, so we’ll see what happens. We’ll see how this date goes…”

Again…I thought that was a little strange. Not sure what our date has to do with where he lives in less than a month, but again – I didn’t really over analyze it.

He was a little hungry, so after we finished our first drink we went to another place to grab some food and he refused to let me put in money for the cab ride there. He’s already one step ahead of most of the guys I’ve dated recently.

We shared a few appetizers, had a few more drinks and laughed – a lot. He told me that his friend was having a Halloween Party with a “Villain” theme, and that he wanted to go as Sho’Nuff from The Last Dragon and I almost lost it. I explained to him that I was planning on going as Sho’Nuff a few years ago, but couldn’t get the whole costume together. (If you don’t know who Sho’Nuff is, or never heard of The Last Dragon…look it up immediately. You can thank me later).

“I even bought ‘the glow’! I’ve never been able to use it though, you should borrow it for your costume”

” I don’t even know where to start with the costume. I’m not really big on Halloween to be honest.”

“Oh my god, Halloween is like my Christmas. You can totally put that costume together.”

“You have to help me then!”

I agreed to go to the costume store with him the next day after work, and we thought of ideas on how to make the costume as authentic as possible.

Then at some point he said something really funny (I can’t remember what). I have this thing that I do a lot…if someone says something funny while I’m drinking, I spit out my drink. I’m not talking a little drool or dribble…I’m talking full on, movie quality, projectile spray.

And that’s exactly what happened this time…with a mouth full of red wine…and it got all over EVERYTHING, including his new shirt.

I.Was.Mortified.

Luckily, he was really good about it. In fact, we were both laughing so hard we couldn’t speak for a few minutes. I apologized, profusely, and he said “well…this WAS a new shirt…” before assuring me that it was no big deal. 

When we were finished with our food, we went to another bar for one more drink before I had to call it a night so I could wake up for work in the morning. By then it was around 12:30 (still early for NYC standards) but he refused to let me take a train or bus home by myself. Instead, he hailed a cab and rode it home with me. When we pulled up to my apartment he paid the driver (I tried to pay and he wasn’t having it), walked me to my door and then took the bus back to his apartment.

He kissed me goodnight, and not once tried to come upstairs or made me feel uncomfortable.

 

And that, gentlemen, is how you ‘take a girl out’.

 

I couldn’t wait to help him with his costume the next day….

#2

A few weeks ago, I went to one of my new favorite bars in my area with a couple of friends. We were sitting on the back deck area watching a funny video online that my friend had never seen (it was a pretty slow night) when these two guys came up and asked if they could sit with us. Considering the fact that, as I just mentioned, it was a slow night, and the fact that one of the guys had already sat down, we let them sit with us.

They both ended up being pretty cool guys and we hung out with them for about an hour before they had to go. The guy that sat next to me was pretty cute, so when he asked for my number I figured ‘sure, why not?’

As they were heading out we all stood up to give friendly hugs goodbye, and as I stood up the guy I gave my number to looked up at me and said “wow, you’re tall.”

I’m 5’2 1/2″…5’3″ on a good day.

That is the first time ANYONE has told me I was tall. Ever. And I’ve definitely never heard that come out of a man’s mouth before. But I was a little tipsy, so I ignored the comment.

The next day, he reached out and asked if I wanted to come to his place…he wanted to cook me dinner. I told him that I wasn’t comfortable going to a relative stranger’s house (call me old fashioned) but that I’d be happy to meet up for a drink in a public place.

He agreed.

So we decided on a place in our area.

It took a little longer to get there than I thought, mainly because I was looking for the place for a good 5 minutes before I realized I was on the wrong street (don’t judge me). I called him to tell him I was running a little late, and he said he was ’10 minutes away.

20 minutes later he showed up. And he was shorter than I remembered. I’m SO glad I wore flat boots.

We sat at the bar, ordered some drinks and started talking. The conversation went really well – lots of laughs, etc. – with the exception of a few things:

1. He acted like he was  so tight with the bartender, and the bartender acted like he barely knew him.

2. He got distracted – a lot. Once he asked a woman about her ring mid-conversation (he’s a jewelry designer – not an excuse but just to give some background). Once he interrupted me mid-sentence because he saw a woman he swore he saw walking down the street the day before. He then proceeded to have a conversation with said woman, and asked me to put her number in her phone incase we (him and I) wanted to meet up with her friends later.

3. His phone rang 3 times in a row from the same number. He had the phone sitting face up on the bar, so of course I glanced at it every time it rang. And each time it was the same woman’s name. On the 3rd ring, he said “I’m sorry I have to take this” and went outside to answer.

4. He grabbed my arm while we were talking and noticed that they were pretty toned. He then asked me, what do you weigh? About 158? (I don’t know what it is with guys asking me my weight. See previous post, Heavy Lifter). Considering the fact that I’m pretty short and small framed, AND had just recently lost 10 lbs, I was really offended by the 158 question.

Are you serious? You think I weigh 158??

Well I don’t know, you’re really toned and I know muscle weighs more than fat so…

No, I don’t weigh 158. How much do YOU weigh??

I’m 158.

You think I weigh as much as you??? (In hindsight – considering this guy was about my height and probably a few jeans sizes LESS than me, that might make sense).

I don’t know I’m not good at guessing weight.

No. I weigh 130. But thanks. *guzzles wine*

After he payed for the bill (yes, he did at least do that right) we walked to a lounge near by. I had nothing else to do with my night, and I was tipsy enough that I was OK with another couple of hours with this dude.

On our way, he stopped at a corner store to grab a red bull, and bought me one.

No thanks, I don’t drink Red Bull. It gives me heart palpitations.

Red Bull gives everyone heart palpitations, isn’t that the point?

Well, I’m not a fan. And my Mom had to get surgery to correct an issue she had with recurring heart palpitations so I try to just avoid it if I can. Also, I think Red Bull tastes like shit.

I handed it back to him, thinking he would just throw it out, but instead he chugged the one he had, opened the one I gave him, and chugged that one. Gross.

We got to the lounge, and it was very loud and very packed. After we grabbed our drinks (him: one shot and one whiskey drink. Me: one glass of red wine), we made our way through the crowd to find a seat. As he tried to get past one (tall-ish) woman, he lightly tapped her to let her know he was coming past to the left of her. She turned and literally jumped when she looked down and saw him at shoulder level. She then turned and laughed with one of her friends.

Hopefully he didn’t notice, but I was mortified for him.

The rest of the night went alright. We had a couple drinks, dance a bit. Then it got too crowded and I started to get tired, so we headed out.

On our way home ( we live near each other) he stopped at the corner store and grabbed ANOTHER Red Bull. Then he took off his blazer and draped it around my shoulders after I had JUST commented on how nice it was outside. I told him I wasn’t cold, took off the blazer and handed it to him. Then he said “can you hold it for me?”

Uh..OK. I figured he just meant hold it while he was opening his Red Bull. But no…he had me holding that damn thing far after he was finished with his drink. Eventually I got a little annoyed and said “here I don’t want to hold your jacket anymore.”

We got to my apartment and he asked if I lived with a roommate.

No. I live alone

How’s that working out for you?

It’s great, I love it.

Can I come up and see your place?

Nope.

Why not? Just because I come up, doesn’t mean we have to have sex.

Oh well we’re definitely not having sex. That’s 100% not happening. But you’re not coming up either.

Why not?

Because there’s no need for you to come up to my apartment at 2:30 in the morning.

He left it alone.

Then he started squeezing my forearm, so I asked him what he was doing.

You have really big forearms.

What??! No I don’t. I have small arms.

No you don’t! Look (he puts his arm over mine) your forearms eclipse mine.

Are you serious? First of all, as a man you should NEVER, EVER point out that a woman has bigger arms than you. Not only do you risk the chance of making the woman feel bad, but more importantly you unknowingly emasculate yourself. This guy is already miniature. Pointing out that he could have potentially shopped at the Baby Gap was probably not his best move.

Then he went on about how beautiful he thought I was (still not coming up to my apartment, buddy) and asked me I thought my best physical feature was.

I don’t know. Maybe my legs…no my smile. People like my smile I’ll go with that.

Then he asked me to smile.

No. I’ve laughed enough times tonight for you to see my smile.

Then he made a big production at looking at my legs (I was wearing a skirt).

Ehh…they’re legs. And a lot of people have nice smiles. I think your best physical feature is these lines you get near your mouth when you smile. They’re not because you have high cheekbones. They’re just a part of your face. Not everyone has that. I think that’s your best physical feature.

What?!

So you ask me to tell you what I like about myself. Then when I tell you, you say…no you’re wrong, those things suck. I really like the lines in your face.

I can’t. Goodbye.

Oh…and I decided to Google him a couple of days later, and found a wordpress blog post about him. Apparently he lied. He said that he’s been here for less than a year when according to the blog (and his LinkedIn profile) he’s really been here over 2 years. Also, that number that was calling…that he eventually left our ‘date’ to answer? Yeah…it was the same name as a woman mentioned in the post, described as his “long-time girlfriend and future fiance.

Loser.

#1

A few months ago, my friend convinced me to try Tinder, a new dating app she had just downloaded. I had recently given up on the whole ‘online dating’ thing (too many weirdos), but she eventually managed to convince me to give it a shot.

It was surprisingly addicting! For those of you who don’t know about it, the app links to your facebook profile, accessing only your age, first name, interests, friends, and up to 5 profile pictures of your choosing. You set your gender, age, and distance preferences and then the app matches you with people based on those settings. All you get is a picture(s) of the person, along with their age, any matching interests, and any friends that you may have in common.

No long profiles to fill out or personality questions to ask. Either you’re attracted to the person or you’re not. If yes, then you swipe their picture to the right. If you’re not, swipe left.

If you like someone and they like you back, then you have a match and you can message each other.

So, I downloaded the app and started messaging back and forth with one of my matches by the end of the day. I was on the fence about some of his pictures, but he seemed really nice, and he was incredibly funny so we ended up exchanging numbers and eventually graduated to texting each other before deciding to meet up the following weekend.

He worked a lot of overnights, so we decided to meet up at noon for coffee at a cafe in my area.

He was much better looking in person and SO funny! We sat at the coffee shop for at least an hour talking and making jokes. Our senses of humor matched up perfectly.

He mentioned a donut shop a few blocks down the road that was supposed to have the most amazing donuts in Brooklyn, and when I told him that I had never been there, he demanded suggested that we go there immediately.

The donuts were amazing!

We each got one and went across the street and sat on a bench in the park to eat and talk.

By the time we finished, a few hours had gone by and he had to get to work. The goodbye was really awkward. We both said we had fun, and said we should hang out again after my surgery (this was right before surgery #2). And then he kind of just stared at me…and then offered his hand out for me to shake.

Super Awkward.

The day went great, and we got along really well, but to be honest I kind of got more of a friend vibe from him. I was still interested in meeting up with him again, but I wasn’t DYING to meet up with him again.

We kept in touch for a few weeks, and then slowly started to reach out to each other less and less. I sent him a text message after I was off my crutches to let him know I was off the crutches and able to meet up if he wanted to hang out. We exchanged a couple of texts that day…but I haven’t heard from him since.

We’ll see what happens, but I’m not banking on running into him again.

30 Dates for my 30th year

I turned 30 in May, and as a gift, my friend wanted to find me 30 dates to celebrate each year I’ve spent on Earth.

While we both decided that might not be the best (or easiest) gift for her to get me, I do think it’s a fantastic idea!

It’s already a pretty big undertaking (that’s over 2 dates a month!), and considering the fact that I had 2 hip surgeries within the first 3 months of turning 30 – I’m already a little behind.

As a way to make up for the fact that I was out of commission for 2 months, I’m going to say that each date doesn’t have to be with someone new. That may, or may not help me reach my goal. To be honest, probably not since none of the guys I’ve dated lately have made it to a second date anyway, but hey – who knows!

I’ve already been on two dates since I’ve turned 30 (I know I know, I haven’t posted about them, stay tuned…) so only 28 more to go!

I will definitely keep you all posted!

What NOT to say to a single person

I find it incredibly annoying when people give me [unsolicited] dating advice. It’s even more annoying when these people who give me this [unsolicited] dating advice are married – and have been for many, many years. 

Usually this [unsolicited] advice, is not really advice. It’s just their opinions. And 9 times out of 10 it’s their opinions about what I’m doing ‘wrong.’

You know how the worst thing you can do to a person who’s really upset is to tell them to ‘calm down’? (seriously don’t EVER do that. Ever. Unless you want to have your head bitten clear off your body).

Well there are a few things that you should NEVER say to a single person. Ever.

 

1. I don’t get it. You’re so pretty/funny/smart/etc. How are you still single? You must be doing something wrong/What’s wrong with you?

Really? Really.

The first part is a valid question, I suppose. And it’s definitely one that I know I’ve asked myself before, so you get zero points for originality. But that last part is just unnecessary. I’ve been single for 7 years. Do you honestly think I haven’t asked myself that question before? That I haven’t mulled over the question “what is wrong with me?” That my single friends and I haven’t sat around guzzling drinking red wine, crying “what is wroooong with uuusss???” 

Wait. What?

Anyway, I’ve judged myself enough, thankyouverymuch, so you can take that finger that you’re pointing at me and shove it.

And the answer, by the way, is nothing. I’m not doing anything wrong. I just haven’t met the right person yet.

 

2. You’re too picky. 

There is a big difference between being ‘picky’ and choosing not to settle. I think I fit into the latter category. It’s not like I turn guys down for reasons like “oh his one eye is slightly larger than the other” or “he blinks funny.” It’s usually more like “He was looking at other women for half of our date” or “he’s a complete douche” or “I’m not attracted to him.”

And if I’m not attracted to them, that’s not being ‘too picky.’ Would you want to kiss, and maybe eventually have sex with, someone you aren’t attracted to? I doubt it.

I refuse to settle.

Some people are settling down, some people are settling, and some people refuse to settle for anything less than butterflies

-Carrie Bradshaw

 

3. Maybe you should lower your standards.

I can’t even entertain that.

I. can’t. 

Please see #2.

 

Here’s the thing. Being single isn’t some awful condition that us single folks need help with.

Yeah, sometimes being single sucks. Mainly, when married or non-single people want to make us into their pet projects. And weddings. And maybe the wintertime. 

But I can at least speak for myself when I say that I’m not desperate to get into a relationship. And that’s not me playing the tough, “I don’t need a man to complete me” woman role. I mean, yes, it’s true that I don’t NEED a man. I’m making my own money, paying my own bills, and loving my life as is.

But that doesn’t mean that I don’t WANT a man to share my life with. But only if it’s the right man. Because, honestly, I’m kind of amazing. My friends are kind of amazing. My family is kind of amazing…my life in general is pretty damn amazing. So it’s only natural that I want the man I one day find myself in a relationship with, to be amazing as well. 

When I Say I Love You…

I was cleaning out my personal email during my lunch break, and came across an email that one of my best friends sent me a few months ago. It was a post from the blog The Elephant Journal that, in my mind, is the ultimate love letter (written by Ben Neal). 

Just thought I’d share…

 

When I Say I Love You, This Is What I Mean

 

I love you. And not a day goes by that I don’t tell you.

But the silent poetry that throbs in my chest cannot be uttered in three little words—or 3,000 for that matter. Whenever I try to describe the way I feel for you, every word seems trite and hollow; the whole English language insufficient.

Maybe if I write it, raw and uncut. If I pour myself out, and breathe passion fire into these words and make them live, they might come into your heart and dance. Maybe when you read this it will take you there—to where the wild drums are beating, where pain and bliss both run together, where lovers die into each other, and are born again…

I want you to know this feel this.

When I say “I love you,” what I really mean is that I want you. From the very first time you ran your fingers through my hair, I have longed for you—for your touch, your embrace, your taste on my lips.

You turn me on. It’s undeniable. It’s chemical. It’s electric.

When I say “I love you,” I really mean that you’re beautiful. You’re gorgeous in your heels and gowns and all your glittering finery, and even more so in your pajamas and blue jeans. When you’re not even trying, when you let go and just be carelessly, naturally you, it takes my breath away—like a sunset reflected in still water, or a starry night so clear you can see the Milky Way poured out across the sky.

When I say “I love you,” I mean that I love your form, your body, your arc and elegance. I love the curve of your neck, your breasts, your back and your hips. You embody pure woman from the curls in your hair down to your ankles and toes. Like no one else can, you awaken the man in me, the beast in me, the passion and hunger and lust.

I love how you move, your effortless grace. I love how you walk, your rhythm and sway. I love how you dance. I love how we fuck­—how we breathe and thrust and grind as one. One pulse, one pleasure, one ecstatic culmination; a prayer, a holy communion.

When I say “I love you,” I mean all of you, just as you are. I love your silliness and your playfulness, how easily we can laugh at ourselves and at life. I love your courage, your strength. I love your jealousy and insecurity. I love your (sometimes painful) honesty. I love how you really walk your talk and take responsibility for your own “stuff.” I love your willingness to face your fears and grow.

I love who you are, deep down—the timeless innocence I see in your eyes. Underneath everything you say and do I see a pure and selfless intent, a kind and compassionate soul.

When I say “I love you,” I mean I trust you. I respect you. I admire you. I adore you.

When I say “I love you,” I mean that I’m sorry. I’m sorry for every time I take you for granted. I’m sorry for every time I’m too busy, too distant, too self-absorbed to make time for you. I’m sorry for every time I fall short of being the man you deserve.

When I say “I love you,” I mean that I love this dance of loving each other. I love how it constantly calls me to go deeper, to walk my talk, to own my shit, to face my fears and grow. I love sharing life with you—the triumphs and the failures, the laughter and the painful silence.

When I say “I love you,” I mean my life is better with you in it. I’m a better man because of you. And the more I come to know you, the more I want to know. I miss you when you’re not around. I’m grateful for every moment we’re together.

When I say “I love you,” I mean I want to be the one you turn to when you’re hurting. I want to be the one who listens. I want to hold you in my arms. I want to take care of you. I want to give you something to stand on in this crazy, constantly changing world.

I want to make a home and a family with you. I want you to be my partner, my lover, my Radhe—the yin to my yang. I want to wake up next to you in the morning. I want you beside me when I close my eyes at night. In a universe of infinite possibilities, on a planet of seven billion human beings, I want you.

Baby, the next time I grab you as you’re passing by, put my arms around your waist and pull you close, kiss your sweet lips, look deep into your eyes and say “I love you,” this is what I really mean:

Here I am—body and soul, sinner and saint, warrior and fool, all of my love and all of my baggage—all of me. Here I am, with open arms.

I see you—mother, daughter, sister, lover, the light and the darkness, the goddess and the scared little girl—all of you. I want you, all of you, you and only you, just as you are.

I have a place here in my heart for you. 

4.5

4 1/2 months.

That’s how long it’s been since I’ve last posted.

Four.and.a.half.MONTHS!

You know when someone says they’ll call/text you back and doesn’t? And then days, weeks, etc later they call/text with a ‘hey!’ like nothing happened? Like they haven’t been MIA for the past however long?

Well I hate that.

It irritates the hell out of me.

So, while I do have a date or two to post about, I had to at least address and explain my (long) absence first.

To be honest, there hasn’t been much going on in my romantic life for me to post about. I had my second (and final) hip surgery in August, which had me mobility challenged for a month, which really put a damper on any potential dates.

(although my crutches were pretty dope…)

But I digress…

To be honest,  I was getting over some pretty shitty (and at the time, pretty recent) guy bullshit that I didn’t feel like reliving.

For the most part, I don’t take myself too seriously. And I’m all for ‘turning lemons into lemonade’, and laughing at my horrible dating experiences to entertain my friends, family, and whoever else may be reading this thing. But then there are times that things get a little too personal. When things aren’t really all that funny to me. And that’s the stuff I’m not quite willing to share.

Not yet at least.

So I guess I was in a blogging funk. I wasn’t having any new dating experiences (funny or fantastic), and I didn’t want to talk about the not so funny stuff that was going on. All of which, got me incredibly annoyed, irritated and turned off from the whole idea of blogging. I threw a bit of an (internal) temper tantrum and refused to even entertain the idea of blogging.

However, after four months (did I mention I haven’t posted in four months?), my temper tantrum has finally run its course! I put on my big girl panties and I’m going to do my best to stay on track.

So for now, I’ll say a great big I’m Sorry

…to anyone who might have been wondering where I disappeared to… but also, and mainly, to myself. Because that’s the real reason I blog anyway, right? For me. Not only as a way to do what I love (write), but also to document and laugh at my crazy experiences.

And if y’all happen to laugh along with me, even better!

I promise my next post won’t be 4.5 months from now.