Goldilocks and the 3 bachelors

Like most people, when a new year rolls around- I strive to make changes in a positive manner. I am not immune to resolutions. So this year, one of my general resolutions is to take matters into my own hands. This is mainly in regards to my love life. Because it hasn't been happening so I'm trying to make some things happen. And what's the best way to get a date? By having another date. A lot of this falls in line with things that I have said in the past, seeing all my friends getting married and having babies, buying houses and progressing in their careers. I know I am moving forward in my own way, but there is one part of my life that makes me incomplete in a way that overshadows the rest. As much as I like to think of this as societal pressure, it is not. I think I do a pretty good job of warding off external forces. Even from my mom who wants grandchildren so badly she has already bought clothes for them and my dad who has told me to freeze my eggs, I'm blocking it out and moving on....but I feel it. I blame it on biology, which is unavoidable. I think I can pinpoint the moment when I am ovulating. I feel like a cave woman who only wants to eat meat and procreate. It is real.

Whoa, that was kind of sappy- let's get down to the nitty gritty. I joined an online dating website and I despise it. I feel like I'm prancing myself out there like a show dog. I send messages to men I find intriguing and attractive, but rarely get a response back. Those that have contacted me thus far, I am not interested in. I am trying to have an open mind and be non-judgemental. But it feels unnatural, forced and just not me. I am a friggin' hippy at heart, I didn't have a cell phone until I was 24, I don't have cable, keep my money under my mattress and didn't shave my armpits for a good couple years. This process is just so inorganic, man.

This brings me to the night of the 3 bachelors, 2 meetings were planned and one was not. 

• Bachelor #1 (Age: mid 30's): Avid traveler, musician with a degree in International Business- well dressed and cute. He talked about himself the entire time, later on I found out he has been out of work for 6 months. I let the uncomfortable silences linger because I wanted to see what would happen. And he filled them up with showing me photos on his phone of his recent trips to somewhere. Also, he wanted to go dancing but he had some sort of limp. I am going to hell, I know. He thought he was too cool for school, so I'll label him as "Too Hot...."
• Bachelor #2 (Age: late 30's): Manager at a popular, busy local restaurant. Owns apartment in Cambridge. Good on paper. In person, within 30 seconds of meeting him- he immediately brought to our attention that he knows he is short. He had small hands. He also said: "Yeah, I have tickets to the Patriots game tomorrow, yeah like 15 rows up from the 50-yard line, I know- horrible seats, they really suck." Ew dude, just ew. He then proceeded to also talk about himself for the 5 minutes we interacted (he was on the clock or something, I really didn't care). He had a Napoleon Complex and was just not a nice person, so he is "Too Cold..."
• Bachelor #3 (Age: 22): Finishing up college, getting his nursing degree (triple bonus points right there!), cute as a button, scratch that- he was a serious hottie. Sweet and gentlemanly. Didn't speak solely about himself, laughed easily, was not pretentious. Good kisser (see where this is going....), thought I was 26 years old. There is a negative to hooking up with a guy who is in town visiting his friend from college- shocking, I know. It involves a closet (at least it was a walk-in closet), a yoga mat, a hockey skate slicing up my leg and finally, grabbing my clothes in the morning, changing in the bathroom and doing "the smash and dash". But following the first two bachelor's of the evening- I needed a lil' somethin' somethin', I will label him as "Just Right...." 

I'm learning that first impressions mean a lot, this dating game requires a lot of time and energy, you need to have thick skin and let things roll off your back. And I also believe that sometimes it is okay to get an ego boost from Mr. Right Now. I am still looking for Mr. Right, but like Goldilocks- I am passing on Mr. Too Hot and Mr. Too Cold- cause ain't nobody got time for that!

It is our responsibility to teach the children...

And by children, I am referring to a select group of men, boys, dudes in their 20's who have no clue.

You know these males; they are your brothers, cousins, co-workers and maybe your friends. Again, this is a gross generalization of the type of males that have crossed my path lately. And if they've crossed my path, they have likely steamrolled themselves over you too.  It is not an entirely new phenomenon, coming across these specimens- as they have existed way before the time of the 30-something civilized male. If nature and nurture work in harmony, they will create the respectful 30-something year old. If we let nature, nurture and our slutty ways get out of hand- we will be left with 20-something assholes turning into 30-something assholes that you will be forced to marry because that is all that will be left in society. There have been a lot of natural disasters lately (SANDY, you bitch!!) and this could go right to the top of the list if we don't act upon it now!!! So I ask you, my fellow women of all ages- to join me in this movement to put these 20-something creatures in their place so they will grow into men we want/deserve/desire to be with when we are finally ready to settle down.

Some may ask, why are women in their 30's dating these younger men? And to that I say, please read my previous blog posts (ahem, pity anyone??!!), but seriously- we strive to be open-minded women and not close ourselves off to opportunities. That is what a mature adult does. Well a mature adult female should also tell these younger men to GTFO (is that a real abbreviation, you know I am not hip to the lingo) or STFU (now that I know is real one ;-).  A situation arose in which a friend of mine went on a date with one of these dudes, and that is what prompted this revolutionary thought process. He was a seemingly stable person, had a job, a house, 2 boats, a motorcycle and ferrets (Yup, you read that correctly. He voluntarily shared the fact that he owned not 1, but 2 ferrets). She knew this because he told her all of this within 3 minutes of meeting her. We got to thinking about how or why he thought that this would be attractive to us, the educated, responsible 30-something year old woman. And here is what we came up with:

We let this happen. When we were in our late teens and twenties, we swooned over the guys that had the cars, were in a band and had enough money to buy us some Mad Dog 20/20. That was hot back in the day. And this is just the tip of the iceberg. Let's talk about the things we let them get away with. Sure, you can take my car and drive to upstate New York to buy some weed. No problem, I love you and I trust you. Of course I will give you a blow job and then buy you dinner at Applebee's, you make me feel wanted! Yes, you can move in with me and not pay any rent- I can't live without you! Like I said, we let all of this happen and it has caused the current crop of 20-something year old men to feel entitled to treat us like shit. So I ask you all, for the sake of your future and mine- to try and put a stop to this.

We should all go about this strategically. Keep your wits about you, but it is time to put these boys in their place. It is not okay to sleep with us and never call us again. And no we are not PSYCHO for calling you out for it- we are just doing our part to groom you for the next girl that is unlucky enough to date you. The world is a volatile place and hurricanes and earthquakes are killing off people left and right, so we need to do some doomsday prep and teach these men a lesson.

Back to ferret guy. He also sent a pic of himself with a dead bambi that he had murdered with a cross bow. So when I suggested she tell him to GTFO, she thought otherwise- he has weapons and obviously isn't afraid to kill things. Ain't nobody got time for that.


*This is the actual picture of the ferrets. C'mon, really?!?!?

The Game of Life...

*I started writing this in late October, this is where I was in my life. It is funny how quickly things can turn around.

I haven't had much motivation or material to write this blog lately. Frankly, I've been pretty down in the dumps. I blame society, change of seasons, lack of serotonin, lack of exercise, excessive red wine consumption, frost on my windshield, the show Intervention (that shit gets me!), stupid boys and society. But nevertheless- like everyone else, I truck on!

I'll share a little ditty that provided some inspiration- a friend's sister-in-laws cousin has a job where she is required to work with children all day (gah!) and was playing the board game "The Game of Life" a few weeks ago. She asked me when the last time was I had played this game? I'm gonna say like 2 decades. She said, yeah- it is pretty much bullshit! She was going through the game and was being rewarded for getting married, having kids, buying a house! She had to use everything in her power not to flip the game over and scream WTF (she is also a single, 30-something woman)! She was getting red in the face over this and the kid she was playing with was like: "are you okay?". Damn the man!

Upon a quick wikipedia search, I have discovered that "The Game of Life" was:

• Created in the year 1860
• Made into an actual board game and copyrighted by Milton Bradley (old d-bag) in 1963
• Updated in the mid-80's to reflect inflation of the dollar. Really?!?!?
• Updated in 1991 to reward players for "good" behavior, such as recycling trash and helping the homeless. Oh Milton, you are so with the times!
• There is an app for it
• It hasn't been updated since the 90's
• And a bunch of other useless shit

The bottom line of this very popular game is that you get rewarded for all those things that are currently keeping me down in the dumps (I am not married, have no babies or a house). You do get some cash for having a career and then getting a promotion- how progressive of you Milton! But, you get the most money for marrying and popping out babies. I now have some displaced anger towards Mr. Bradley- sorry dude but you SUCK. This whole game is dumb, no one should buy it as it personifies why I feel like hell lately. 

Oh course you know I am going to propose some new rules for "The Game of Life according to a Smart, Independent, Single Woman circa 2012", the following things are more likely to happen to people now than buying a house, procuring health insurance or getting a raise. Those things are difficult to come by in 2012, so here we go:

• You have an STD!- Lose thousand of dollars for medical expenses.
• A 22 year-old right out of college takes your job for less money because the economy sucks!- Lose your apartment and some weight because you can't afford groceries. 
• You get a part-time job babysitting someone else's kids so their mom can go to the gym and get a pedicure!- Gain $100/week. Lose your dignity.
• You attempt to further your education by taking classes in addition to working full-time (Extra Superstar Bonus Points here)!!!- Gain knowledge and hopefully some day a job! Lose your sanity because you are drowning in debt, have no social life and bags under your eyes. 
• Your STD cleared up!- Gain some of your sanity back! 
• Your sister/cousin/friend/co-worker is getting married and you have no dates in sight! Gain free booze and a possible hook-up at the wedding! Lose lots of money and your self respect for said hook-up in the bathroom of the reception area. 
• Your ex-boyfriend gets married! LOSE!!!!

And so it goes...as with everything I say- you should probably take all of this with a grain of salt. If we are still playing games like this, we are not moving forward- we are stuck in the past. Frankly, I am fine with where I am in my "Game of Life". I don't know how I can go about in changing these attitudes because Milton Bradley is dead (I think), so I will just bitch about it here like all privileged Americans and enact my first amendment rights- cause ain't nobody got time for that. 

I Pity the Fool!

I loved Mr. T back in the day, my brother and I used to watch a lot of The A-Team. He wanted to be Murdoch and I wanted to be Mr. T- those gold chains baby!!! Plus he could breakdance like nobodies business and his catch phrase was amazing: I Pity the Fool!! You knew he was not messing around when he threw out that phrase, he was serious- he really pitied those fools!!

This weekend, as I was flipping between Football and Flashdance (whoa, hyperbole of my persona right there...) when I was supposed to be studying- I realized I was currently attending my own personal pity party. And I was the only guest. And the party sucked. Shoot, when did I RSVP to this shitty party? I don't want to be here, I want to leave. So I surveyed my weekend: maybe I agreed to this party when I was drinking gin alone in my living room on Friday night watching yet another Ryan Gosling movie. Or maybe it was when I woke up on Sunday morning and was not in my own bed. Then I had to do what I will now refer to as the "Walk of Pity", let's cause a revolution and throw out "Walk of Shame"!! Do you really feel shameful? Who even uses that term anymore? I am so ashamed, wah wah wah. No one actually talks like that.  But "Walk of Pity", that is something the people could get behind. You are wearing your clothes/make-up from the night before and people see you on the street and mumble: "gurrrrrl, where you been?" and shake their head. That is pity right there. You know they do not want to be in your shoes and you cannot wait to take off said skanky shoes from the night before. And that is when you buy a giant coffee and a bacon, egg and cheese and go home to put on your party hat.

I have reached an age where I get looks from family members, friends, co-workers, fellow students and as above, sometimes total strangers. This is a look I can only interpret as pity. It is the head tilted to the side, eyes looking all concerned, a sad smirk and is often accompied with some generic positive statement such as: He's out there looking for you, just like you are looking for him!!! Shut the hell up, this whole thing is an act of pity and drives me insane. Just because I am out alone on a Saturday night drinking $3 PBR's to the face doesn't mean you should feel sorry for me. Just because I am at your wedding alone and cried in the bathroom for the first half hour does not mean you should pity me. Just because I am not married, don't have a fiance, a boyfriend or am not even dating anyone does that give you the right to look at me that way. I find it offensive. I have chosen this life, I have voluntarily wandered down this path. I am FINE!! I may not be AMAZING like you say you are with your husband, house, 2.3 kids and annoying dog. But, at least I am honest and yes, I am fine. So stop looking at me like you can see my ovaries drying up in front of your eyes.

I am the only person that can make myself leave this pity party, so get me out of here!!! I don't want Mr. T to show up, drop his catch phrase on me and then kick my ass. And because I need a little motivation to leave this party, I give you the namesake for this blog:

Online Dating- it's not your mother's first date...

There comes a time in a single woman’s life when she comes to the realization that finding love the old fashion way may be impossible- at least it feels that way. It’s usually after perusing facebook after too many glasses of wine and seeing everyone post about their engagements/weddings/kids and then you think- shit, I’d better hurry this thing up! I live in a city that is filled with drunk frat boys (which I am not totally opposed to- more on this later) or married men (which I am opposed to- that ends here).

Believe you me, I have tried the whole making yourself appear available and open (it’s all in the energy you put out there man- says that hippy friend of yours) to making small talk/googley eyes in places like the grocery store or the gym or the gas station.  But then as you are making eyes with the cutie in aisle 7, his girlfriend approaches from behind with a “hey sweetie.” Bitch.  So this is when we make exceptions to our rules about never succumbing to things like “Events and Adventures” (which requires an interview- um, no I don’t know where I see myself in 5 years?!?!? Where the hell am I?) and did I mention it costs almost two grand to join that shit?!?!  No thank you. Then there is speed dating (more on this later) and oh yes, the joys of online dating.

I would like to punch the person in the face that invented online dating, punch him in the face (cause you know it’s a man) while he is sitting in his giant pile of money. The profiles that both men AND women post are entirely glossy and devoid of any real substance (and don’t front like you don’t peep at the ladies, we need to see the competition out there!). These profiles are supposed to be there to assist with understanding someone better and claim to be the key in making these connections- well I call bullshit.

These profiles are basically lists of generic positive attributes…so let’s see, “I like spending time outdoors, friends and family are important to me, I like to travel, I like working out” blah blah blah.  Really? Can you be anymore unoriginal? You might as well say “I am so boring during sex you can balance your checkbook while we are doing it”. That I would appreciate, it’s honest and I like multi-tasking.  And then there are the photos. As much as I enjoy looking at a hot bod, if there are numerous shirtless photos of yourself, it screams, “I’m more into myself than I will ever be into you!” Delete. If you have 15 plus photos of your house/pets/vacation spots/car and none of yourself, I see “I have no personality!” Delete. And if you don’t show teeth when you smile in any of your photos, I tell myself, “dude needs a dentist, STAT!” Delete. If you don’t have any photos at all, you get an automatic delete.  If you show up online at one of these sites and immediately instant message with: “I am not quick at everything, wink wink” you will never hear from me again.

Let me break it down for you to make your life easier:

“1 in every 5 marriages start on an online dating site.” Match.com - 1 in 5 marriages also begin in rehab, jail or are arranged in India. You wanna go stat for stat?!?!? 50% of marriages end in divorce and there is a better chance of me winning Keno at my local packy than finding a match on your site. I’ve done the math.

“You’re not looking for lots of dates, just better ones.” eHarmony – which is just match.com’s uglier younger brother.  

Christian Mingles- you want to bring Jesus into this? Not even He can help you find a date on here.

“Plenty of Fish has more dates, more relationships, more visits than any other dating sight.” – It’s a booty call!!

OkCupid-   It’s free, enough said there- and ain’t nobody got time for that.

Beginnings

I talk a lot of shit, not all the time- but sometimes I talk shit. I've been talking shit about writing a blog for awhile. I know exactly what this blog will be about, but since I am mayor of procrastination town and secretary of technologically illiterate-ville, I have not attempted this task, yet. However, yesterday a situation arose which was so ridiculous that I had to move forward and stop talking shit and start doing shit.

I always knew this blog would be about the tales and unbelievable encounters that my girlfriends and I have experienced while traveling through the world of dating/sex/relationships/love (in no particular order). I've heard some stories! I have laughed at these stories, sometimes I've cried during these stories. I am currently single so I still live this life, sometimes I laugh at my life and there was a time when I cried through my life. But mostly, I want to laugh and I want other people to realize that it is okay to laugh at their life because if it  is happening to me- it is probably happening to you. And it is okay! Am I cynical? Maybe, depends who you ask and if I have taken my anti-depressants consistently that week. Am I a hopeless romantic? Never, but that may also depend on my pharmaceutical intake that week. What I am is someone who wants to believe in love and is finally enjoying the journey towards love. I am a listener of stories that deserve to be shared, and I know I am not alone in this.

So back to the antecedent event which prompted me to finally stop talking smack and get off my ass and write the damn thing. I recently dated this guy, not even that recently- like 3 months ago. Things started off good, as they always do, blah blah. We went on some fun dates, had intimate, intense conversations about life and love- he seemed like a stand-up dude. And being that I am a young woman in the prime of her sexual life and he was a younger, hot, sexy gentleman- we did the horizontal mambo. Then he lost it, like bat shit crazy lost it. Studies show that it is usually the female that loses it after the initial sexual encounter, but in this case- it was him. He knew my age, I am an honest person- and knowing that I was older than him, he made the brilliant assumption that I wanted to procreate with him, now, right then and there. After knowing this dude for a short time, he was so amazing that I had to have his babies- yes, that is it!!!! My life is so empty and desolate and I have so much time to raise a child right now- please impregnate me!!! Being the smart woman that I am, I was actually on birth control at that time- protecting myself from spawning this weirdos children. He knew this, but that didn't seem to matter to him. He was positive that I wanted to have his children and wouldn't let this go. To top it off, like a respectful gentleman that he was- he communicated all of this through text messages. Like paragraphs and pages of texts, I'm all set with that and refuse to communicate like a 13-year old girl. So I told him to fuck off. And then 3 months later he sends me this:

So thank you crazy pants McGee for inspiring me to finally start this blog and finding the bright side to yet another whacked-out situation. But no thank you, I do not want to have your babies- ain't nobody got time for that.