Single and No Mingle

It's been a long two weeks. Lately, I find that I've become content being single. Bumble hasn't really done much to improve my dating hopes, especially considering these yahoos. Observe: 

"Let me act like I'm some cool guy in conversation who is sitting around in a speedo so you can see how small my dick is." 

"I can't get real pictures of myself so let me just take selfies in the mirror of me making different facial expressions." 

"I can't afford to get my hair cut or even put on real clothes. Let me try to make you think I'm sexy by sticking my tongue out like Miley Cyrus." 

They all make me want to gag. 

I did meet one decent guy from Bumble, though. I went on a date earlier this week with a really nice guy named "John." John is a Southern boy with city flair. He's not a redneck, but he sounds a little bit like one. He does compliance checks to make sure that construction companies and their corresponding construction sites aren't violating federal safety laws. Sounds fancy, doesn't it? 

We met for drinks at an upscale bar. Things were going well. We were enjoying each other's company and exchanging laughs. As we consumed our drinks, I noticed something strikingly familiar about the bartender. I couldn't quite place it, but then it hit me. She was the fiancée of one of my ex's friends. I played it cool. 

We moved from drinks to having dinner at a Japanese restaurant. At the sushi bar, we ran into another friend of mine who was also on a date. Unlike me, he was no longer single and was out with his girlfriend. We exchanged some banter. One thing concerned me about John during the dinner portion - he seemed to need to go to the bathroom a LOT. I don't know if he had the urge to pee, but we hadn't been drinking much, and I'd never seen someone go that many times in the span of one hour. 

During one of John's bathroom breaks, my male friend said to me that he approved. I said to him, "Are you sure? Because you approved the last one and he turned out to be shitty!" My friend looked mortified. I thought it was because he was feeling guilty. I then realized that, at the precise moment the words came out of my mouth, John was standing right behind me. I was mortified, too! 

After dinner, John and I started walking back to our cars. I was a little antsy about getting home because I was supposed to start a trial the next day. Our short drink meeting had turned into a two-hour rendezvous that I hadn't anticipated. He wanted to sit and chat some more. After about five minutes of chatter, I let him know that it was time for this little lawyer to get home. 

As we walked to our car, I noticed someone who looked very familiar. I turned my head to get a better look until I realized that another ghost from my old life appeared - one of my ex's friends! He was there, at the bar outside, where I saw his fiancée. I turned my head, ignored him, and kept walking with John. 

John walked me to my car, hugged me goodnight, and said we'd go out again on the weekend. Since this date, John has been texting and calling me every day. 

John is a great guy, but when I first met him in person, I didn't feel that "spark." I didn't feel that sudden attraction for him like I did for my ex. It's not that I want my ex back - but I want that chemistry. When I look at my boyfriend, I want the feeling that I want to jump his bones all the time. I didn't get that feeling with John. I'll go out with him a few more times to see how things develop, though. It could be that the attraction needs to build. 

I think the other reason I'm partially turned off is because of all the phone calls and texting. It's not that I mind. In fact, I want a guy to call me and text me. I think I'm having an allergic reaction to it because I've been on my own for almost two years now. I've learned how to be alone. I've also learned to love being alone. I like my freedom. I like not worrying about another person. I like being able to do what I want, when I want, with whoever I want, or without anyone. It's all me. 

I know all of this sounds selfish, but remember the hell of a relationship I survived. I wouldn't say that my ex and I had the worst relationship in the world, but it certainly wasn't healthy. 

Being single again was rough because it meant learning to be on my own again. I know how to be alone again, and, frankly, I love it. I love myself. 

Someone once told me that the most important relationship you'll ever have after God is the one you have with yourself. It took me a while to understand what this meant. 

I think now I'm in a position where if the right man arrives in my life, I'll be ready to welcome him. Before I can love someone, I needed to learn how to love myself again. Loving myself is how I receive the ability to love other people. If I can't love myself, how can I love someone else? I needed this time alone. 

If I'm supposed to love again, I think I'm just about ready. 

Cinco de Flirto

photo credit: wallpapers-best.com

Sometimes, you unexpectedly get swept off your feet, literally.

I went out last night with two good friends of mine, "Ava" and "Camille." We met up at the next town over. The next town over tends to be classier than my town, and it is only a convenient 30-40 minutes away, depending on traffic.

We ended up at an upscale Mexican restaurant that had a fantastic band playing. Ava went home a little earlier, but my Latin side couldn't help but begin shaking my hips and moving my feet to the beats that the band was happily generating. Camille and I stayed behind with another friend.

I'll admit that when I'm out, I usually don't care much what other people think. I'm just out to have fun and enjoy what the night brings. The night brought me a blast from the past - a guy I went on a date with over six months ago. He had lied about his height, but he was otherwise a sweetheart. I didn't go out with him again because he lied about his height. He was a good half a human head shorter than me.
"Hey!" he called out to me, saying my name. "How are you?"
"Do I know you?" Camille immediately gave me a swift elbow to my side. I nearly jumped from it.
"Yeah! It's me, Eric! We went out for sushi remember?"
"Oh my gosh! Yes!" and then I continued with the feigned excitement of seeing him again.
With Mr. Short was a tall man with a head of light brown hair who made eye contact with me and extended his hand to me as an invitation to dance.

Normally, in Latin music, an invitation to dance includes a few swirls, twirls, and maybe an occasional dip. This guy took Latin music to a whole new level - he tried to morph it into American swing dancing. That's right - after about 20 seconds of being twirled around, he suddenly picked me up in a lift that could only be fathomed in a scene from Dirty Dancing and swung me one way, lifted me up again and swung me another way, and then ended up plopping me back on the floor. I felt like I was a small doll being tossed around by a kid. It was fun. This guy was no Patrick Swayze though. He got me so disoriented that after he tried to twirl me around again, I accidentally elbowed the guy in the head. After a few more minutes, he introduced me to all of his friends, including Mr. Short Eric.
"We've met!" I said. Eric laughed. At least the guy was cool about it.

I went back to my friends, dazed and charmed

Camille commented that I was sprung. I was sprung! It was the kind of encounter I read about in books and saw in movies - not encounters that happened to me in my sleepy part of the country. We continued on with our evening. After about another ten minutes, the king of swing was back for another round. At that time, it was only me and Camille. I looked at Camille, not wanting to leave her alone.
"Go, have fun," she said to me. I went.

Mr. Swing, true to form, did more of his lifts and swings with me. It was fun the first time, but after this second round, I was thankful I didn't indulge in a late night meal or consumed more than my single margarita. Mr. Swing then turned on his Cinco de Flirto.

"You're gorgeous. My name is Liam."

I learned that Liam was a fresh transplant from Missouri. I was surprised that he wasn't from California, given the mop of surfer hair on his head. He hadn't been living in the area for more than a month. He did home remodeling. His smile wasn't too terrible, either.

"Let me get your number. Take my number. I want to see you tomorrow."

We exchanged information. He continued.

"Come over tomorrow morning. We'll work out tomorrow morning. I'll make you breakfast."

This sounded bizarre. Plus, it was a school day. I had work! What was this guy doing? I suggested to him that we just meet after work, in the evening, you know, like normal people.

Of course, Mr. Swing was not normal.

"I need to be in [another town] tomorrow for work. I'll be there all weekend."
"Aw, well, you can call me when you're back and then we can go out."
He smiled at me and acted like I just articulated the theory of relativity.
"Right on," he said. Was he sure he wasn't from California?

He kissed my hands, and we said good night. We both stayed with our own groups. Another guy came over to me to dance. Liam was watching me like a hawk. Liam then picked out another woman from the crowd and did the same swinging and twirling he did with me earlier. It was full Cinco de Flirto.

Camille and I checked the time and decided to check out. She commented that Liam was watching me hard while the other guy was dancing with me. I didn't really care what Liam thought. I didn't even know the guy. I was just out to have fun with my friends, although our feet were barking from the soreness we imposed from our dancing.

A little Cinco de Flirto doesn't hurt, but at the end of the night, the only people I wanted to leave with were the people that I know will stand by my side - my friends.

Creepers Part 2

 Have you ever seen a married man on a singles site? I have. Check out my ex's friend, "Bob" ...

As much as I'd like to publish his complete name and photograph, unfortunately, I will not. Bob is what I will call an Undercover Creeper. If you recall my post about Creepers, then you will easily understand the concept of the Undercover Creeper. At least a creeper is up front about his married status in some manner, whether it be with still wearing his wedding ring or just telling you he's married and looking for some fun. Bob, however, is another story. Bob portrays himself as a single man with no kids, looking for "like-minded" people, aka, let's f* and talk later.

When I saw that Bob was scoping out my profile, I figured it was to spy on me to see what I was up to these days. Of course, I decided to snoop his profile and see what the dirtbag was up to.

I've spotted Bob around town on a few occasions since my ex and I had broken up. Usually, he was with a group of people that included women who were not his wife. On the latest sighting, around the time that I spotted him on POF, he was with a woman, not his wife, and was actually making out with her. I was disgusted. As much as I wanted to go up to him and ask Bob how his wife and kids were, I declined. It is not my place to call out this particular married dirtbag.

Creepers abound more frequently than I'd like to think. Another creeper situation arose with a close friend of mine. She had become friends with a married male that she worked with. It was odd because for the first three years of their seven-year friendship, she had no idea that he was married and had two kids. She had transferred job locations into a nearby town about an hour away, and her married friend happened to be in her new town for training. He stopped by her office. They chatted and dished about office gossip as they normally do, as well as vented and touted each other's own office victories. Oddly, for being such good friends, they never got involved in each other's personal lives beyond the office environment. He had always promised to take her shooting, but at the last minute he would always cancel.

One day, he came forward with something that chilled her. He revealed that he'd had feelings for her for the past five years. "It's the reason we never go shooting. I'm worried that if I'm at the range with you, and we're alone, I'm going to end up kissing you." She asked him when it started, and he told her it started after they were put on the same projects together. She didn't know what to do, other than to say she was flattered and she was glad he never crossed any lines.

He started to give her hypotheticals. What would she do if he did kiss her? Would she resist? Would she accept? She refused to answer initially. Finally, after several minutes of being barraged by hypotheticals, she admitted that she might kiss him back, but there would never be anything between them.

At that time, it was the end of the work day and she was going to her car. She offered to drive him to his car, as his car was parked several blocks away. He accepted. Before he got out of her car, he tried to kiss her. She turned her face and he got her cheek. They've never gone shooting.

Another friend of mine actually did kiss a married man. She had dated this particular man for a short while before he started dating his current wife. There was always attraction between them. Both of them were lawyers. As I've said before, lawyers love sex and they love alcohol. Combine alcohol with two attractive lawyers, and you may get sex. In my friend's case, she had enough sense to the stop the sex train.

They had been out drinking at one of the local bar association's socials. It was getting later. A group from the social that included the two of them decided to move to another bar. After that shindig ceased, the two of them continued to stay together at the bar while the others left. He had put his hand on her leg and ran it up and down her thigh. She admitted to me that she enjoyed it, but did feel guilt. He offered to walk her to her car. Once they got to her car, he increased the voltage and moved from her thigh to her butt, and from her butt to ground zero. She admitted to me that she put up no resistance. She actually went with it. He then pulled her tightly into his body and started kissing her, feeling her, initiating what nearly became a sexual encounter in the parking lot. She finally stopped it. She told me that she apologized to him and drove home. The next day, she texted an apology to him and said she was out of line. He responded with an apology to her, admitting that he was the one out of line, and he thanked her for not following through. He tried kissing her again fairly recently. She did the 'ol turning her head to get the cheek trick again. When he did get her cheek, he smiled at her.

All of this makes me think one thing - are people really faithful these days? Clearly, there's a high percentage of people who are not. According to an article by the Washington Post, a 1991 study revealed that 70% of married women and 72% of married men have cheated on their partners.

Part of the reason for my singlehood has now become being single by choice. I'm sure that when I meet the right guy, my views will change. I don't want to get into a relationship or commit my life to someone only to get my heart broken again. I need to meet someone who doesn't want to get into a relationship or commit his life to someone to get his heart broken either.

I've always been confident that I could be happy if I met someone like me. If my match is out there, and he has the same concerns and goals that I do, then we'll be just fine.

Dead Fish S&M Bumpkin

This past Friday, I had the unfortunate displeasure of having a POF date. In full disclosure, I brought it upon myself. I saw this guy online and thought he looked like a normal man. Here's a quick snapshot of his profile: 

There was one photo where I could kind of see his face. He looked kind of cute, and in person, he actually was kind of cute. But let me tell you something - this date was a disaster. This man off Plenty of Fish was a dead fish. A masters degree, a machinist (again, in full disclosure, I had no idea what that meant - maybe an engineer?), and tall!

We exchanged messages on POF, phone numbers, text messages, and had a real conversation on the phone. The phone conversation left me feeling as though we had somewhat decent chemistry. It was a little awkward, but I thought, "Eh, he might be okay." He asked me out for drinks at a local restaurant that specializes in Southern cuisine.

After 5 o'clock rang at work, I went to the bar. I spruced my makeup up, I was wearing a nice outfit, and I was ready to break the spell of bad dates. He texted me, saying he had an outside table. Rather than breaking the spell, I was cursed by another hocus pocus.

As I walked up, my eyes perused the outside tables for what I thought was my next big relationship. He was worse than Tinder in Miniature - he was Dead Fish. When he saw me, he got up, walked over to me, and he almost body-bumped me while simultaneously giving me a hug. It was bizarre. He greeted me with a slight southern drawl. I observed his manner of dress for this first date and made my quick judgments. He was dressed as any bumpkin might be dressed - green shorts, a black t-shirt, a black ball cap. dark-rimmed glasses, and black sandals - the kind you spot unfashionable tourists wearing at the beach. I was appalled.

We sat down and began to chat. The waitress had already given us ice water, but no offer of alcohol. I was really looking forward to a good beer, and I was not amused at being robbed of my beer. He hadn't ordered any beer, either, and I didn't want to appear like an alcoholic. But dude, it was Friday and I had a shitty day at work. Come on!

He was slow in his words, quick in his thought, and difficult to carry on a conversation. He was different from the phone. This guy didn't seem cool and dynamic at all. He was a Dead Fish! A Dead Fish is a special term I ascribe to one who is difficult to speak with. Conversation with him was like pulling teeth. However, the conversation perked up, but for a damning turn.

Earlier in the day, I showed a friend from work the Dead Fish's profile. As we reviewed his summary, something popped out to me that I didn't remember from when I first reached out to him. He said he was not "vanilla" in the bedroom. In fact, he cautioned the reader that he was one who thought bites, bumps, and bruises in the bedroom were natural and necessary.

If you remember my post about S&M, people who use the term "vanilla" are those who belong to S&M circles and are referring to conventional sex. Seeing this term in his profile raised alarms in my mind. Had I stumbled across someone who wants to bite my tits off?

"So I need to ask you about something I saw in your profile today that I hadn't seen before."
He smiled. The bastard added the vanilla thing recently. "Sure, go ahead."
"I saw that you use the term vanilla in your profile. Normally, people who use the term vanilla in their profiles subscribe to S&M circles. Are you one of those people?"
"Well, yes and no. I mean, I like biting. If someone is into bondage, I'll get into it, but I don't keep a supply of chains."

I was already getting turned off. The next few things he said and did definitely shut down any electricity I had left. He asked me more about my profession. When I told him I was a lawyer, he chuckled and said, "Oh I've needed one or two in my lifetime!" When I asked him what he meant, he told me that he had been arrested for felony fleeing and eluding law enforcement. He got into a high speed chase with a state trooper when he was 31 years old - a mere two years ago. I asked him why he did it. His response: "I just wanted to see if they'd chase me. I thought it'd be fun. It was harmless - nobody else was around."

I was dumbfounded. This man got arrested for a felony and got into a high speed chase just for kicks? The masters degree seemed like a complete lie because surely someone who engaged in this type of behavior would not have the smarts to also obtain a masters degree. I asked him what happened to the criminal case. He said he got a break on it and ultimately didn't become a convicted felon. In my mind, he was a convicted felon.

The only good part about this disaster date was the food. I was eating a delicious crawfish po' boy with sweet potato fries. It was marvelous, even though I didn't have a beer to wash it down with. At the end of the meal, the waitress delivered the bill, as all waitresses do across America at the end of thousands of meals every day. He took the bill in his hands, furrowed his eyebrows, and looked up at me.

"Do you have any cash on you, like a ten?"
I looked at him, thinking to myself that after the disaster this date had been, he wasn't seriously going to ask me, the female half, for cash.
"No. I don't have cash." I wasn't going to offer to pay any portion with my card, either. I'm a traditionalist, and for the wasted hour of my life I spent with this moron on my Friday night, he could at least pay for my meal.
"Hm, okay." He reached into his wallet, plopped down a card, and after a painful ten minutes of waiting, the waitress came and picked up his card with the bill. After an additional five painful minutes, she returned his card.

I thanked him for the dinner and wished him well. I jumped into my car and drove straight home. Lucky for me, I had one of my favorite beers in the fridge. I popped the cap off and indulged in the bubbly flavors of a Sam Adams Cherry Wheat.

I reviewed my awful date with the Dead Fish S&M Bumpkin. I closed my eyes as I took another sip of my beer. The beer was my comfort. To my surprise, I realized that a cold beer was all I really wanted for a Friday night. I then started to recount the collection of terrible dates I'd had, coupled with the tragedy of my last relationship.

I then realized this single truth: It's a blessing to be single when I'm surrounded by fools.

The Bumbling First Bumble Date

If you remember in my last post, I did a review of the dating app, Bumble. 

The caliber of men on Bumble seemed to be higher quality than the mess I was getting on other sites. After a few messages with this guy (pictured below), I decided to go out with him. Except he had two fatal flaws which I have outlined in each photo: 

Yes. He was boring, and he had bad breath. You may be saying to yourself, "Come on, really? Didn't you give the guy a chance?" Let me tell you how this date went.

We agreed to meet at a bar downtown for a drink. He wanted to expand it into dinner immediately, but I learned a long time ago to stick to drinks or coffee only for a first meeting for online guys. It's like pulling something out of the bargain barrel at the store - you could either strike gold, or get something horrific that no one else wants (and therefore, explains the reason why it's 90% off).

When he approached, he resembled his photos, but he was ugly in person. He had a very scrunched up face. It's like the difference between seeing the photo of a sweet poodle and then meeting a pug instead. I told myself not to judge on looks. For me, sometimes personality can save the day.

Unfortunately, he had no personality. Most people would agree that conversation is a two-way exchange. Trying to maintain conversation with him was like trying to maintain conversation with a slice of dry, plain, white toast. It just wasn't happening. Like toast, he just sat there, mildly plugging along.

With the small puffs of words he uttered from his mouth also came a toxic gas - bad breath. Sitting next to each other at the bar, I thought briefly that perhaps my ex sent this man to gas me to death with bad breath. At the first puff of toxic gas, I thought maybe my nose was mistaken in what it was sensing. There was no way that a single man on a first meeting would dare approach without brushing his teeth, or at least chewing a piece of gum, or something to freshen that cave. After the third puff, I couldn't take it anymore. I knew it was either leave or die under his toxic gas breath.

I knew within the first ten minutes that this date was going to suck, and I did not want to lose an hour of my life to this man. A bunch of my friends that I was with earlier were still downtown, and I decided to rejoin them. I subtly texted a plethora of them, begging for one person to please call me and say it was an emergency. One female immediately responded to me.

"Are you okay?" she said. "Do you need rescuing?"
"What's wrong?" I said, knowing that she would understand what I needed.
"Huh?" Okay, she didn't quite get it yet.
"Is it an emergency? Do you really need me to come now?"
"YES! Come now!" she exclaimed.
"Okay, I'm coming!"

Gas Man looked at me, bewildered.

"I'm sorry, but my friend just broke up with her boyfriend. She's in tears. She needs me to come. Do you mind if we reschedule?"
"Yeah, go ahead."

I thanked him, dashed out the door, and dashed into another bar nearby where my group was. I immediately deleted the guy from my Bumble matches. He can gas some other poor soul.

The problem that I see with Bumble is the same problem I get with other sites - men don't behave like men. They don't pursue. After a match, they just sit there like bumps on a log after I initiate contact. I do give Gas Man kudos for actually setting up a date, I just wish he had more personality and better oral hygiene. Part of the problem is also my dating demographic - my town just sucks, period.

I'm still hopeful that there's a prince out there for me, I just need to go through a few frogs, including a poisonous gas toad.

Dating App Review: Bumble

Ladies and gentlemen:

Are you tired of the same old dating apps? Well guess what. I am happy to tell you about a new app: BUMBLE. 

Bumble is the brain child of an ex-Tinder founder. So far, it is the best I've seen. For months, I've wondered where the hot men were in my area. If I exist, a hot, young, professional, surely my counterpart exists. Hopefully, he does, on Bumble. 

Bumble is similar to Tinder. It connects to your Facebook (but does not post to it!). You control your settings and what images get posted. You can even write a blurb about yourself. You swipe right if you like someone, and left if you don't.

What makes it better? The ball is in the woman's court. Long gone are the days that a woman must wait to initiate contact. A connection is made on Bumble when both parties swipe right AND the woman initiates contact. A woman can only initiate contact within 24 hours. If she doesn't, then the male is given the option to extend the 24 hour window an additional 24 hours. It's a brilliant plan because it forces immediate contact - not just a match that sits there without anything further happening. 

I must admit - I get delighted when I get a match. "You have a bee in the hive!" 

My first 24 hours so far in Bumble have been great. The men are much better looking, professional, and overall appear to match my criteria. I like that I'm able to have more control. 

Who knew that there were so many eligible bees in the hive! This is where the hotties have been hiding. We'll see where the bumble bees take me. 

Fetish Feature: S&M (NSFW)

Surfing the dating world reveals, from time to time, people with fetishes. The most frequent fetish I find is that of S&M. According to Psychology Today, one in ten people are into S&M. 

S&M, aka sadomasochism, is the giving or receiving of pleasure through the use of acts that involve humiliation or infliction of physical pain. How this became a trend, I have no idea. I'll leave that to Psychology Today. Nonetheless, some people are into it and as long as it's all consensual, it's all gravy. I should note that scientifically, pain during sex releases more endorphins. The more the endorphins, the more the pleasure, and the more the sexual arousal. 

Here are a couple of S&M men. Observe Exhibit A... 

Talk about a kinky duck. And Exhibit B: 

As you can see, this medical professional is into the same kinky stuff as the duck. 

Most people who are into S&M that I find online seem to be the same type - usually it's a male in his 30s-40s, a professional of some sort, and they never post their true photos online. Why the mystery? 

Nobody wants to be too exposed with this fetish. Despite the extensive underground culture, it still seems to be frowned upon by most. On the same token, everyone thinks they're a little kinky. Have you ever spanked a partner during sex? Have you ever been spanked? Do you ever engage in a little hair pulling during sex? What about a little bite here and there? Have you ever liked to be held down during sex? Maybe a little rough once in a while? If you've done any of those things, then you've done a little S&M yourself. Watch out Christian Grey. 

Exhibit B mentions "vanilla sex" in his profile. Vanilla sex means conventional sex - whatever is acceptable under social norms. In other words, if you're not into S&M or anything kinky, then you're vanilla. Remember - most everyone has done a little S&M at some point in their sexual lifetime. I think it's fair to say that most people are vanilla with the occasional swirl of spank. 

A few years ago, I had my own personal adventure into S&M. Chill out - I didn't go nuts like the duck. I met a man who was into the stuff. He was a lawyer from New York City and ten years older. One day, over a drink, he casually told me about his fetish. 

"It's a lot of fun. I think you'd enjoy it." He smiled mischievously at me. He then went on to tell me about the sex clubs in NYC. He also told me about a fantasy he had for me. He wanted to suspend me in a swing, my arms and legs bound, in one of these clubs and have sex with me while people gawked. I was freaked out. 

As time went on, he introduced me to the different aspects of S&M, including what he liked. He was into domination and pain. I wasn't. The idea of having someone commit acts of pain on my nipples while I was strapped up by belts like a sacrificial lamb just didn't appeal to me - call me crazy!

I shared this story with a good friend of mine who also dated someone into the S&M culture. That man, too, was older than she was. "Come here, little girl," he would say to her. It was a verbal act of domination and an act of introduction into S&M. 

S&M is probably always going to remain an underground culture because it is so extreme to the mainstream. It's hard for me to picture this gaining mainstream popularity because the act of pain while receiving pleasure just isn't a big turn-on for most people. Most people are content with light S&M, but they won't reach the level of the duck. If you're not at duck-level, then you probably won't get along with someone who is a duck. When it comes to sex, it's best to be with someone who enjoys the same things you do. 

As they say, birds of a feather...