Topsy Turvy

Another rather odd trend in dating portals that I have come across lately are what I call the "topsy turvy." A topsy turvy is when someone posts an upside down profile picture. Observe:

Exhibit A:

 Exhibit B:

Compare the two photos. When a man posts a topsy turvy, he is trying to convey two things: (1) he's different and (2) he's relaxed. As you can see, if it's a trend, it's not different. Both men do appear to be relaxed or laid back. In Exhibit A, he is smiling and appears happy. He has a neutral background which conveys that he can go with the flow. In Exhibit B, it looks like he is laying on a bed which conveys that he may like to cuddle, as well as comfy nights home.

What's the downside to the topsy turvy? First, the singleton who comes across these photos is forced into having to flip the device that the singleton is using to see the photo. After seeing what the prospective match does look like, the singleton must flip the device again to finish reading the profile. It's annoying. It's not cute when it becomes an inconvenience. A serious singleton is looking for a fun person, but not confusion. The serious singleton does not want to be inconvenienced during the search either.

The moral of the story is this: if the profile is a pain in the ass to read, then its holder mught be, too. In my experience, if a man goes to great lengths to show he's "fun" and different," then most of the time he is actually not so laid back and has some kind of concealed oddity he will want you to accept.

When you see a topsy turvy, approach with caution.

Pig Farmer?

Having been on multiple dating portals with little success, a friend of mine suggested that I try an alternative dating site. I asked her what she had in mind. She suggested FarmersOnly.com.

I had worked for many years in a rural community. I had come to learn that not all farmers are redneck. In fact, many of them are very intelligent men with bachelor degrees and involved in farming enterprises. They are businessmen. They also tended to be good-hearted. I decided to try my luck.

I created an account, uploaded a lovely photo of myself, and anxiously entered my preferences. I launched my search. I probably should have been tipped off to the redneck nature of the site when I read the motto, "Because sometimes city folks just don't get it."

One such search result was this specimen:

I can't make this stuff up. I went through a few other results. The selections were few. The site offered me about three other additional men (note: men, not matches) within a 50 mile radius who were equally, if not more, redneck. Horrified, I immediately deleted the account. I guess this makes me "city folk."

I don't mind trying something new, but it still needs to meet my standards. If these are city standards, then I'll stick to the city.

A New Beginning

I'd like to talk about something that most people don't talk about, or even believe. I have a very ugly word to dish out. Are you ready?

Abuse. 

I mentioned in my first post that I came out of an abusive relationship. What I didn't mention is that I've been in counseling for almost a year because of it. Today was my last session.

I never thought I would slip into a relationship like this. I never thought I would need counseling. Please allow me to share my story. If my story can help one person, then I will be happy.

My ex is a federal agent. He was a year younger than me. I had hesitation dating a law enforcement officer for two reasons: statistically high levels of abuse, and statistically high levels of infidelity. After I expressed my hesitation to him, he told me his first two lies in our relationship - he would never abuse me, and he would never cheat on me.

The relationship started out beautifully. It seemed like we were meant to be together, like we just clicked. He promised he would always protect me, always be with me. In fact, he always was with me. When we went out with my friends, he was always by my side. He stuck to me like glue. He always wanted to crash girls nights. I didn't think he was being controlling. I thought he was being sweet. When things were good, they were wonderful, but things didn't stay good. The brightness started to fade, and the fantasy was starting to blur.

He began to turn rather dark. I saw more of his temper. His temper was scary. I began to suspect he was seeing other women, or was starting to see other women. He had many female "friends" that he said I couldn't meet. They would call him or text him. One of them had sent him a text message saying, "Does my sex still take you to paradise?" I ignored the message, and he swore he never saw the message. Eight months later, he confessed to lying to me about it. We were on a cruise for my birthday when he came clean. Talk about misery - being caught on a ship with a lying asshole was not ideal.

Every time we had a fight, it was my fault, or so I believed. I would get angry, but he would make me feel like I was the crazy one. Instead of talking about things, he would storm out. When I challenged him about the women, demanding that he block them from contact, he would get angry. On one occasion, he threw his cell phone at me. He then stormed towards me then stopped himself. It was very scary to see. I was so upset the next day that I was crying in my office at work. I had a friend who was a local sheriff's deputy. He had seen me and could tell I was upset. I told him what happened.

"Did he hit you?" he asked me. My friend seemed very angry, and I was afraid to get my ex in trouble.
"No. I'm okay. It was nothing."

That's the moment when I started to lie to myself, and continue to lie, over and over again. Thinking his bad behavior was my fault and minimizing what he was doing to me.

Sex started to change. It wasn't loving anymore. It started to become more animalistic. I thought it was just passion. If another man smiled at me, or looked at me, he became very angry. I didn't realize at the time that he was starting to view me as an object, rather than as a person. When it came to spending time with our friends, he would always tag along with me, but if he wanted to be alone and suddenly cancel our time together, then I was damned if I objected. Suddenly, I was the villain. Suddenly, I was the controlling one. Suddenly, I was the jealous one.

Every few years, agents must go through a background check. I remember when he told me that his background investigator wanted to speak to me.

"If you tell him anything that would ruin me or make me lose my job, I will make you miserable. We will be over. Do you understand?"
"Honey, why would I do that? I love you."

The investigator was very a kind man. He came to my workplace and sat down with me in the conference room of my office. Out of fear, I said some things that weren't exactly true.

He asked me about my ex's temper. "He doesn't have anything worse than the average road rage." I didn't tell him about the times he threatened me. I was scared, scared for myself, and scared to lose my ex. I didn't tell him about the fights my ex would get into with other people when we were out. On our first date, he almost got into a fist fight with a random man in the bathroom because the other man accidentally splashed water on him. I didn't tell him about how my ex had been thrown out of a bar because he and his other federal agent friend got into a fight with another pair of men. I didn't tell him about how my ex and his friend would pick on college boys at other local bars for fun to start fights. I didn't mention this violent streak at all. At the time, I was in denial about it. I hadn't thought twice about these incidents. In hindsight, his violent streak was there all along.

He asked me how his loyalty was. "He's a very loyal person. Very loyal." I didn't mention that I questioned my ex about five different women (and later on, two more would pop up). I didn't mention how he would hide his activities from me. I didn't mention how he would get angry with me if I challenged him at all. I didn't want to expose the problems in my relationship.

We fought more often because I felt like I wasn't being respected. I was trying to stand up for myself, for my dignity. I got angry. When we were drinking, he would turn into a different person. I wasn't myself with him. I became ugly, too. I remember threatening to call a policeman on him once for harassing me. We had been in a fight. I didn't mean it. I just wanted him to leave me alone because I was angry. Later on, when we talked about the fight, he told me that if I ever called the police on him, it would ruin both of our careers. Another scary situation that he mentioned was that we would both end up dead if I continued to fight with him. He compared us to a married couple that had been in the news. The husband shot the wife, then killed himself. My ex said that would be us.

The final breaking point in the relationship was discovering my ex's hidden social media account. I remember on the boat that I screamed at him, "You will never touch me again!" He never did.
He had been talking to numerous college girls behind my back. I couldn't stand it any more. We argued. He wanted to walk away from me, saying he was the one who needed time alone. When I asked him to stay, he told me that things would "break bad" if I didn't step away from him.
He apologized to me after a week, but I couldn't stand him touching me. We got into another fight because my trust was broken. He had started receiving text messages late at night. I got angry. We fought. He tried to storm out of my apartment. I stood in front of him. He pushed me inot the wall, and he left. I cried. We broke up three days later.

I mourned him. I thought a part of me died. A couple of weeks later, I went into counseling. During the breakup, he told me I was the broken one. I was the twisted one. I needed to fix myself. I actually believed all of it. I thought I was a horrible person. I thought I had issues because the man that I loved was telling me that I was defective. He threw old arguments in my face.

After 10 months of counseling, I've learned the following things:

1. I am a wonderful person. I am not broken. I am whole. 
2. I deserve to be treated with love and respect. 
3. It's okay for me to remember the positive and negative from a situation. The positive and negative help me to view things in their totality. 
4. What I went through was an abusive relationship, and I should not be ashamed of myself. Out of every situation is a learning lesson that I can take with me in the future. 
5. I should never forget to love myself, and I should never forget my family and friends who love me, too. 

Having my last counseling session today was bittersweet. My counselor was wonderful. I truly loved working with her. She guided me on a rough road of recovery. I am happy to release an old year of pain and say hello to a new year of hope. 

So here I am, the Single Beauty. I am beautiful and single. 

Three's a Crowd

Every single woman gets the opportunity to join a threesome. There's always an abundance of married or otherwise committed couples who are looking for thrill and adventure with a single woman who doesn't have anything else going on. Oftentimes, these couples will advertise the man as being fun and the woman as a hot piece of ass. Of course, everyone wants discretion. Is it really that discreet if you're searching the very public Internet? Observe:

Then there's the married guy who is just out looking for fun. He advertises that he's in an open relationship and makes himself look like a barrel of laughs. Why would any single woman looking for love bother with this man? It's just a waste of time and energy.

Finally, there's the married guy who is just a douche, especially when he posts a picture of his wife and kid to let other people know he's married. If he has no caption, he's a cheater. Observe:

This guy is married to a beautiful woman and the kid is adorable, too. "You don't know what's going on in his marriage! Maybe he just needs a release." Excuse me while I go raise the Bull Shit Flag. If you're a married person who has the need to look outside your marriage for fulfillment, then release your poor spouse and stop dishonoring him/her by going behind his/her back. If you tried counseling, if nothing else works, then try something that does work: divorce. It might be costly, but it does the job.

Married people on dating portals are a waste of time and energy for the singleton. The typical female singleton is looking for love, and love means love between two people. The singleton has better things to do than be some married person's distraction. After all, two is company, and three is a crowd.

Wrong Name

It's happened to all of us. Sometimes, you date multiple people. You don't develop any real interest in any of them, but you talk to them because you might get laid by one of them. You don't bother remembering someone's name until that person actually becomes a true potential match for you. Well, my friends, there is no excuse for not getting the name right when it's on the top of the Tinder screen. Observe: 

Seriously? My name is at the top of the damn screen. The way my name is spelled is no where near "Lisa." Not only that, but the fool took two minutes to notice his mistake and come up with the half-ass excuse that his phone put in the wrong name. You can only blame autocorrect when the names are similar, not when they are vastly different. If this guy can't get it right on Tinder with the name posted at the top, who knows what he's like in an actual relationship. 

Moral of the story: stay away from men who don't get your name right. If he is screwing it up when you're sending messages and haven't met yet, then he is not worth meeting in person...or another message. 

NEXT!

Coloring Books

Another fine specimen that we single women encounter in our daily dating lives is the man I like to call "the coloring book." A coloring book is a man with so many tattoos that it makes you want to take a marker and color on him.

I know that some women think tattoos are wonderful and awesome, but for a professional woman like myself who went to the trouble of getting a higher education, I think less is more, and none is best. It's my personal preference. Besides, there are some tattoos that just look tacky and terrible. Observe:

This guy above actually went to the trouble of making the picture black and white and only his tattoos in color. No thank you.

He clearly thinks he is a mystic of some sort.

This one wants to make you guess what he has downstairs. I guarantee you that it is likely no different from any other penis.

The facial expression in this one looks like he's trying really hard. 

The bottom line is this: if I want a coloring book, then I'll go to the dollar store. The problem is that I outgrew coloring books a long time ago. I don't need one on my man's body.

First Messages

The first message you send on an online dating site is critical. I repeat. The first message you send on an online dating site is critical. If you see someone that you find attractive and that you would actually like to get to know, then you should send a good first message to that person. You should NOT send a lackluster message. Exhibit A:

As you can see, this first message sucks. I sent an equally sucky response. 

What makes a good first message? A good first message is a message that shows real interest in the person, is engaging, and is at least somewhat interesting. Was there something that you liked about that person's profile? Do you share the same interests? Make it known! A simple "Hi" does not cut it. It's boring. It's outdated.

It sucks. 

The Same Photo, Over and Over

Have you ever come across a dating profile that appears to display the same photo over and over, with small variations? I was messaged by this guy, who I will dub as the "thug white boy." Ick.

  

This is the type of guy who has a great body, but the rest of him says tragedy. Not my type. I suspect he messaged me because he wanted to see if his photos would woo me over. As you can see, they have not. 

Duckface

A new trend has emerged in social media. It is the duckface. What is a duckface? A duckface is a stupid face made usually by adolescent girls in an attempt to look sexy. Exhibit A:

As you can see from above, the girl looks like a total moron. Imagine a man doing the duckface. Exhibit B:

An adult male looks like an even bigger moron making the duckface. I do not understand what possessed this man to think that he looked sexy making this stupid face. 

I hate morons. 

I hate the duckface. 

I hate morons who make duckface. 

Slim Pickins

To show that I don't have a massive ego, observe this little exchange I had last week:

Yes. That's right. I was turned down because an hour drive is too far, and apparently I am too hot. I can't catch a break!

Turning away from a dating website, I thought to myself maybe Tinder will offer more. Not so...

You'd think a firefighter would be more attractive.

We can't ignore these guys either...

God, please help me!

The Stripper and Uber

Single women like to cut loose on occasion. One such occasion for me occurred back in June. I was visiting another area for business. One of my best friends from high school lives in the area with his fiance.

My bestie is gay. The great benefit to have a gay best friend is that he knows where all the hot spots are. One such hot spot was a male strip club. My bestie texted me on the last day of my conference after I was done with my meetings. My conference was about one city away from them.

"Hey, are you all done?"
"Yes. Why?" 

"Be ready in 20 minutes. We are coming to pick you up. We're taking you to a male strip club, Magic Mike style. You'll love it. Dress sexy." 

And, true to form, he was there 20 minutes later with his fiance. I wasn't sure what to wear, so I threw on a black dress, heels, hoop earrings, and off we went. 

We first stopped off at another hotel where my bestie and his man were going to stay. Because they wanted to drink, they rented a room near me for the night so they wouldn't need to make the drive back at a late hour. We used Uber to get to the strip club. 

I tend to keep up with the latest trends, but Uber was something I was not as familiar with since there wasn't a high need for it in my area, being that I live in a smaller town. Within 5 minutes, we had a driver in a nice car who whisked us away to the strip club. 

As we approached, I made a quick study of the area. We were slightly off the beaten path, in a back area of what easily could have been taken for a warehouse-type building. As we approached the door, I saw a giant sign that read: "DO NOT ENTER IF MALE NUDITY OFFENDS YOU." I was intrigued. 

The cover for women was a cool $20, while for men it was $10. My friend paid for all three of us. It was dark inside, with some dim lighting, and lights illuminating the stage. On the stage, I saw four dancers. They easily could have been four of the most beautiful men I had ever seen with the hardest bodies ever. I noticed that they were swinging something around, something which I thought was a strap-on. I inquired of my friend's fiance.

"That's his dick."
"Wait, what?" 

"His dick."
"He's fully erect?" 

"Yup."

In shock, I started giggling like a school girl. I couldn't stop laughing. My nervous laughter set in like a tidal wave. Then, I became a man. 

My friend began to giggle, too. We started making crude remarks to each other about the men, saying to each other what we would do to each of the men on stage if we had a night with each one. I'll admit, I did get turned on seeing these naked men dancing around, shirtless, pantless, with muscles bulging and asses of steel. They were exquisite. I started to understand why straight men love strip clubs. It was a buffet of visual delight. 

We started having drinks. Two of the strippers passed by, softly touching me on the arm, asking me how I was doing, and how my experience was. I loved it. One of the strippers told me that he was an inspirational life coach. He asked me what my goals were, and we had a conversation about goal-setting and achievement. He had gorgeous round, brown eyes, olive skin, and didn't have much on to cover the rest of himself. Three drinks later, I was ready for a lap dance. 

One of the strippers that was on stage walked by our table. He was thinner, but displayed an impeccable talent for pole dancing, performing different times of flips and pole spins combined with pelvic thrusting. Not wanting to violate the rules against touching, I raised my hand as he walked by to inquire about how I, in my bold three-drink state, could get a lap dance. I'll be honest. I wanted something to fantasize about later. 

"Sir! Excuse me!" 

"Oh, hello there, beautiful."
"Um, this is my first time in a strip club, and - " and then I emitted another giggle. Before I could get to my question, the stripper interjected.
"This is your first time here or your first time in a strip club?"
"In a strip club."
"Ever?"
"Yes..."

He then called over another stripper, and then both commenced a dance of erotic proportions. They both shifted my chair towards the middle of the floor, moving me as if I weighed nothing. One stripper stood in front of me, while the other stood behind me. They began their dance. I looked over at my friend. He was rolling with laughter. 

The one in front of me said I could touch him.

"Are you sure? I don't want to break any rules."
"Go on, baby."

He took my hand and placed it on his stomach. His stomach was hard. It was amazing. I had no idea that a human body could be so toned and so tight. Not wanting to rob myself of the experience and the new permission I had to touch, I touched his stomach with both of my hands. He then took one of my hands again, and placed it on his penile area. This area was covered with some cloth that was about the size of a small handkerchief. I could hear my bestie losing it in another roll of laughter. Simultaneously, the dancer behind me began feeling me up, touching my neck and grabbing my breasts. I was in shock, but I was loving it. 

The dance finished. They both kissed my hand and wished me a good evening. I was in space. My bestie and his fiance both had smirks on their faces. 

We didn't stay much longer. Before we were to embark on our journey back to our hotels, I went to use the bathroom while my bestie called Uber. As I came out, my bestie and his fiance were waiting near the door for me. The three of us walked out together, but the stripper who danced in front me came out, fully dressed, with a backpack, and walked out with us. He was chatting up my bestie. I made the assumption that they were talking while I was in the bathroom, and that the stripper was done dancing for the night. 

"Do you mind if I join you?" the stripper asked.
"No, come on in!" my bestie replied. 

Not knowing the dynamics of Uber, I thought that it was possible to share an Uber like you would a taxi. The Uber dropped off my friend and his fiance. My friend gave the Uber and paid for my fair back to my hotel. The stripper, on the way to my hotel, began to massage my shoulders. I started to get concerned. 

We arrived at my hotel. I thanked the Uber for the smooth ride. At that moment, the stripper hopped out. I started to freak out.

"What are you doing?" 

"I'm coming with you."
"Wait, what? Why would you do that?"
"Don't you want a night with me?" Well, of course I did, in my head, but I wouldn't really do it. The man was a nice fantasy, but I could only imagine the number of STDs he might have had, or had no idea that he had, especially if he so nonchalantly jumps into cars with women to accompany them home. 

"What? No!"

At this moment, the Uber driver began to pipe up.

"Hey! I gotta go man!"
"Wait, wait!" shouted the stripper to the driver. 

"Do you have money to pay me or what? Time is money!" shouted the driver back to the stripper. 

The stripper looked at me with a look of shock on his face.
"We aren't spending a night together?"
"No! Good night!"

The Uber had started to pull away, and the stripped leaped after the Uber, asking for a ride.
"Good night!" shouted the stripper. 

As I made my way back to my room, I was trying to analyze what I did to make the stripper think that it was permissible for him to come home with me, home being my hotel room. I guess this also exposes something that is probably pretty common among strip clubs: these people double as prostitutes. They are able to assume you'll pay for the sex because you've been oogling them all night and developing a set of blue balls. So readers, beware! 

Don't let a stripper jump into your Uber. 

Fight Club

Every now and then, I get messaged by a variety of colorful characters asking me to engage in a number of activities. Some of these activities may be lesbian in nature, or to join a couple for a threesome. Towards the end of July, I received an invitation to this...

That's right! This was a legit invitation to an underground fight club. I'm glad that my workout habits communicate that I am a fit female who can kick fellow female ass. 

A discussion with a fellow singleton today got me thinking about the message from this fellow, the limited dating pool, and how, in a way, dating itself is a giant fight club. 

A cursory search of the Internet allowed me to find these rules for fight club. 

Rule 1: You do not talk about Fight Club.

Rule 2: You do not talk about Fight Club.

These first two rules together mean Fight Club is a top secret business, much like dating. Nobody wants to reveal one's secret dating life. Nobody ever talks about the nitty gritty details of dating life except when things are good, or when things are terrible and there is a desire to demonize the other person. The person that one is dating is either a saint or a devil. Either way, the initial stages of the relationship, and the one night stands that happen along the way, tend to remain secret, much like Fight Club. I don't think any man I've ever dated has ever been entirely truthful about the number of women he has slept with. The same applies for women. Make no mistake - women hound as badly as men do. They're just better at being discreet about it. 

Rule 3: If someone says "stop" or goes limp, or taps out, then the fight is over.

I think this is pretty self-explanatory. In dating, if you tell the other person to buzz off, they need to buzz off. Going limp is a real tragedy. If the sex is terrible in the dating stage, run the other way.... unless you're really, truly, madly in love with the person and you think you can work on it. 

Rule 4: Only two guys to a fight.

Unless you're getting involved in a polyamourous arrangement, it's two at a time. I don't know many swingers, but unless you're a swinger, you go two at a time. It's just you and the other person. It's better this way. Humans tend to run in pairs. Why do you think women go to the bathroom in pairs? It's human nature. Two is the number of companionship and duality. It allows you to focus on the other person and decide the following: do I want to continue with this person?

Rule 5: One fight at a time.

You can only be on one date with one person at a time, but you can have multiple dates with multiple people at multiple times until you find your grand "win" and date one person steadily. Either way, two at a time, and one at a time. 

Rule 6: No shirts, no shoes.

I think of it like this - on a date, ideally, you are showing your true self to the other person. You are "taking it all off." I believe in making a good impression on the first date, but I won't show up to a first date dressed to the nines with my four-inch heels and a wildly sexy dress because I don't normally dress that way. I dress nicely, but I save the pizzazz for the right time. Later on, once the man has demonstrated his reliability and staying power to me, then it really is no shirt and no shoes. (wink wink!)

Rule 7: Fights will go on as long as they need in order to terminate. 

Dating continues as long as it needs to continue. When dating, you end up in one of two ways: marriage, or breakup. Sometimes, the marriage ends up in divorce, but ideally, you date to marry, and you date long enough to ensure you won't divorce this person. I don't know anyone who goes into a marriage thinking they will divorce in five years (or, in the case of a good friend of mine, 90 days). Besides, weddings are expensive! Nobody wants to flush down all that pomp and circumstance for an even more costly divorce that spends more money, and, worse, emotions. 

Rule 8: If this is your first night at Fight Club, then you must fight. 

That's right. If you chose to go out on a date, then you must stick it out. Besides, remember Rule 3, you can call it quits with any person whenever you need. After all, it's just one date. It's not forever. 


Welcome to the Club. 

Stood Up - No Excuses

One of the things I pride myself on is a low tolerance for crap. I'm not talking about just regular crap. I'm talking about the crap that is obvious.

Let me tell you about "Billy." The name has been changed to protect the not-so-innocent.

I met Billy on a dating site called Plenty of Fish (POF). You may have heard of this notorious site. POF has been known to many to be filled with the good, the bad, the scary, and the flaky. Tonight, I got stood up by one of the flaky.

Billy was not quite a desirable specimen for a few reasons. I came across his profile last week. POF has a feature that allows members to see who has viewed his or her profile. I did not message Billy because of his photos, his lack of formal education, and his geographic location, but he was alerted that I viewed his profile.

Above, I have posted a photo of Billy. He said he was 35, but judging from the facial features, he appeared to be in his early 40s. Would a man lie about his age to sleep with a younger woman? You can bet your ass he would! In fact, it's happened to me before a few years ago with a man who claimed to be 37 but actually was 42.

Next, he has only a high school education. I'm not a snob, but if I went through the trouble of going to law school, I would like to be with a man who at least goes to the trouble of getting a bachelors degree. I have this standard for two reasons. The first reason is that a higher education usually means a better job, which means a higher income. I don't want to attract a leech who sees "LAWYER" and thinks I'm going to be his sugar mama. The second reason is that a higher education usually means the person is more likely to possess class. When I say class, I mean he's not a redneck. He has some formal education as well as "real life" education, wit, a sense of humor, a good demeanor, and manners. He knows how to be subtle, and he knows the value of success combined with humbleness.

Lastly, he is located in another city, with the promise that he is moving to my city. This promise of a move may or may not be true, but in general, I don't trust non-locals. People who travel frequently to my city for work are more prone to be deceptive because if the person is never around, then he has a lower likelihood of getting caught hounding around town. Anyone in that in-between stage tends to be questionable. I find that non-locals will insist on meeting in the hopes of getting a woman liquored up enough to get her in bed. Now, if the female's intention is just to have a night of fun with no strings attached, a non-local is a great deal. The only other problem is making sure the man isn't married.

After viewing Billy's profile and ruling him out for all of the aforementioned reasons, he promptly messaged me. Not wanting to be rude, since his initial message wasn't terrible, I gave a brief response, but one that was not a complete invitation for further contact. He kept on, and we engaged in a tennis match of messages that culminated into a request for my cell phone number.

We spoke on the phone twice. The first time, he slightly irritated me. He was a little bit too Seinfeld for me. Jerry Seinfeld, in the show, cracks a lot of one liners, and the audience laughs. Imagine having this in real life, and the man is his own laugh track. That's what this guy was like. He otherwise seemed to have the same values as I did. He had a respect for other people's time, appeared to be ready to settle down, wanted kids, and wasn't into head games. I thought to myself, "Okay, I'll give this guy a shot." Yesterday was our second phone conversation, and it was meant to serve as a confirmation of tonight's plans. A time was selected with the promise that he would contact me again to select a place of his choosing.

Today was radio silence. I didn't hear from him until a half hour past the agreed meeting time. Here's how the conversation went:

"Oh man I am so sorry. I just got out of work. I know it's kind of late. But, would you still like to meet?"
"Uh..."
"I guess that's a no."
"Not really."
"Well, that's okay. I mean, I know I should have texted. I'm sorry. I should have taken five minutes today to text you and let you know. But hey! Maybe we can meet another time? What are your plans tomorrow or Thursday?"
"I have plans already." (I legitimately do).
"Oh okay. Well, next week?"
"Sure."
"Okay, have a great night!"
"You, too!"

Now, this little exchange should be raising red flags. First, this is a man who is an advanced dater. He has read the books. How do I know? He immediately admitted his wrong and how he could have corrected it. He believed his simple mea culpa would get him off the hook for not contacting me at all today. The man knew what he did was wrong. He knew it when I talked to him, and he knew it 8 hours ago. By immediately admitting his wrong, he thought he could appease me and get another shot. This only heightens his guilt and crap level.

The bottom line is this: if a person has enough time to take a shit, then that same person has enough time to send a quick text message. Plain and simple.

No excuses.

Unless, of course, there is a national disaster, someone dies, or one's car explodes... then that might be a good excuse.

Introduction - Who I Am, and Why I Am Here

Hello! Welcome to my humble blog.

Allow me to introduce myself. I am The Single Beauty. I am beautiful and single. Shocker.

I was launched into the single world almost a year ago by an ex who started out perfect, then became abusive. It started with a threat here and there, then became physical. Thankfully, I got out before it got worse. Lesson 1: stay away from the psychopath. Finding myself single again, I thought it would be easy to find a new man in town.

So why am I single if I am so beautiful? Dating sucks where I live. It sucks so much that I felt the need to write about it. Sometimes, this stuff can't be real, but it is! It is very real! I am creating this blog in hopes that others will get a laugh as much as my friends and I do about the circus that is called the Dating World.

So who am I? What do I do? I would prefer to remain anonymous, but I will tell you a little bit about myself. My first mistake that probably doomed me to singlehood was getting an education. I didn't get just any education. Oh no, no, no! I got a LAW degree. That's right! A law degree is the type of degree that causes most people to shake in their shoes... or want to come after me with a knife.

My next lovely trait that doomed me to singlehood was being ethnic. I am a lovely Middle Eastern and Hispanic culture blend. I was born and raised in the U.S., but when you're brown, somehow people expect you to start belly dancing, or break out in a weird language, or display some other bizarre, random behavior. Not everyone acts like this, but I grew up in an area where I was called Spic and Raghead. Great people. Not everyone was bad, but not everyone was good either. After 9-11, I was targeted by a teacher in high school. Every class session was converted into, "Let's put the Arab on parade and make her a spokesperson for the entire Middle East. Let's make her answer for Al-Qaeda." I didn't even know who Al-Qaeda was until 9-11. I told the school counselor about it. His response: it's just backlash; just deal with it.

My last trait that doomed me to singlehood was religion. I am a practicing Roman Catholic. Say that one five times fast. For some reason, people treat religion and faith in God like it was the plague. I had no idea that a set of values was that abhorrent. That said, anybody that wants me to change who I am, well, damn them to hell!

I guess my problem is that I actually have expectations, values, and standards. I want a man who is on my level, not some Joe from the street corner. I don't wait around for a man to call me and ask me out. I actually have a life, with hobbies, family, and... wait for it... friends! I actually have a backbone. I run to no one at the drop of a hat. I stand up for myself. I don't get bullied (at least, not any more, now that I'm not with my ex). I don't put up with mistreatment. I'd like to think that all of these gifts that I have - my education, my background, my values - come together to form a giant sifter, a sifter to sift out the trash. Believe me, there is lots of trash floating around out there.

This blog is intended to give my fellow singletons a good laugh, or at least a smile. In the meantime, allow me to give you the first laugh of the evening...

Presented by Tinder... oh what a charmer...