The Run In.

The other morning I happened to stop by my local Dunkin Donuts for a wake up wrap (don’t judge, I like a good wake up wrap and I had no food in the house!).  I was happy, jaunty even… strolling in with my new-to-me skinny cords, wavy hair and fresh from vacay glow when I took notice of the tall dude at the end of the line.

My eyes narrowed. Is that….???

I did a double take and looked away.. there’s no way that’s Southern Boy*.  I took in his appearance, the work boots, the way he stood. He was wearing a hat.

Crap.. this is directly around the corner from his work. Double crap, he’s starting to look around.

I look away nervously and do a quick self-assessment. Please don’t say anything to me.  

I feel awkward.  Really awkward.  Things had ended weird and I do NOT want to make any contact. AT ALL.

He orders.  I hear his voice.  Oh it’s definitely him and also, not as healthy as you made yourself out to be with the 2 Boston Cremes buddy.

He pays and before he can move away from the register, “Can I help you, Mam?”

I walk up quickly, swing my hair to the right (to cover my face, I guess.) and place my order.  Please don’t talk to me!

He turns and looks at me, I can feel it.

I look straight at the cashier, smile and pay for my order.

Before I can walk to the end of the counter to pick up my wrap, he’s gone.

I sigh with relief. Maybe he felt awkward as well.



*I owe you the explaination of what happened with Southern Boy.. it’s coming but as my ego was a little bruised with that one, it’s taken longer than expected to write.  I’ll link it up soon.






A break.

I’m taking a break in the online dating scene.

To be honest, I’m busy and this online thing is like a second job. Too much research, too little pay off.

I’m tired.

I’m sorry I’ve been quiet.  I’m starting a lot of posts and just not finishing them right now… anyone else go through the dating blahs?  How do you get yourself out of them?

And don’t say sex… cause I tried that. It didn’t help.


Freaky Saturday

I went on a first date tonight…. I was excited about it all week and had even broken my– no dating random dudes on MY WEEKENDS rule for it.

The date came up tonight and as I got dressed.. I started freaking out.  What if this date is horrible?  What if he looks nothing like his photos?  What if he’s so boring and uninteresting in person?  What if he tries to molest me like the last military guy I went out with?  and with all of that comes my own negative self talk… What if he hates me? What if he thinks I’m ugly/fat/boring/horrible..?  And why the hell am I freaking out like this?  I haven’t done this since my first first date!!

So in a panic, I texted my dating guru

Me: I’m getting ready for my date tonight and I’m totally terrified.  What is wrong with me? I’m having a dating breakdown.

Guru: Because you want it to work out. 


So damn simple…. I actually care whether or not this one becomes something.


Dating Roulette

Online dating is like playing roulette…..

You only slightly understand the game (I say slightly understand because I may or may not have been taught by an 80 year old man in Vegas at 3 o’clock in the morning…another story, another time) but… anyway, you know you have to pick a number, pick a color and throw some chips on the table before the ball settles or the dealer tells you all bets are final.

So you make a choice and watch the ball.

You get anxious. You’re probably saying “Come on __ (insert number/color/space here)”.  And hopefully you’re doing it in your head, cause out loud would just be embarrassing   You might be ringing your hands. Stroking a lucky talisman or praying to the God of your choice.

You know it’s a long shot that it’s going to work out, but you’re hopeful.  Maybe your choice will come up. Maybe you will be a winner.

And then the ball lands…

Did you win?

Most often than not, you didn’t.

Online dating is like this.  You get “matches”.  You can email them, “wink” at them… you can scroll through and pick and choose who you’re interested in.

If you’re like me, you’re probably sitting back and letting dudes know you’re interested but not going out of your way to email anyone first (call this a scar from my marriage if you will but this is how I’m operating right now). I respond to some of the winks, some of the emails and throw my bet out on the table.  Maybe this could be a winner?  Who knows?

I make choices about who I want to spend some time getting to know and go from there. The wheel of time spins.

Sometimes I put more effort in then others. I make some prayers, pull out my lucky outfit…. and wait to see where the ball is going to drop.

Sometimes the ball settles close to my number… a promising email or 2 and then silence (on one of our ends), a meet up date- no chemistry-over.  And sometimes, I’m watching the wheel get so close to my number, starting to feel excited and hopeful about a situation only to watch as the ball tips into the other slot.   And then bam, it’s over.

And you don’t always understand it…it’s just this giant game of chance after all…. but you continue to throw out your bets and hope for a winner.

Maybe I need some rules?

Apparently I’m going to need some rules….

Rule:  Do not go to the dentist on the day you have a first date with someone. A half smile is not sexy when you’re trying to full face smile and it’s just that those muscles CAN’T MOVE into the full one.

Hope this wears off before I get there.


I think, no I KNOW, I went on a normal pretty successful date last week.  He was a little smaller than I had thought (based off photos) but he was sweet, nice and we talked from the moment I walked up to him.

He had a beer waiting for me when I got there, and not a Miller or a bud.. but a craft beer.. and a good one too.  He won points without even realizing it at that point.

I couldn’t pin point one wrong thing with him…none of my normal red flags popped up.  He was genuinely interested in me and hearing about my life.  We seem to have a lot in common.

We closed the restaurant and then he walked me to my car.

Hug. Kiss on the cheek.  And a, “I’d like to do this again, I had a great time.”  before parting.


He called 2 days later.

We’re going out tonight on date number 2.

Updates will be forthcoming.

With Great Hotness Comes Great Power

We met late afternoon in a well-populated public area.

He looked older than I had anticipated (he was graying around his temples), though I knew he was 39 when I agreed to meeting up, and it through me off for a moment.  I was completely out of my comfort zone, but to be honest—DATING is out of my comfort zone—so I just went with it.

He smiled and moved in for a hug when he met me, said it had been a day…and since I’m a hugging-kinda girl, I obliged, though awkwardly before we walked into the restaurant to grab a drink. Drink in hand, we headed back outside towards the benches to sit and get to know each other.

We sat.  His arm wrapped across the back on the bench and his hand landed directly on my back… right around the bra mark, open-palmed… and stayed.  Not only did it stay there but it made circles, it rubbed… IT STAYED.

It was creepy. I was shocked. I said nothing but my inner voice was screaming—GET YOUR FUCKING HANDS OFF ME!! So instead of saying anything, I moved.  I twisted my body, I moved further up on the seat, I leaned forward…..I moved back. I thought my look would get him. Nope. I did everything but say, “Keep your hands to yourself creeper!!” (Which I SHOULD have and in the future WILL DO).  Instead, I was uncomfortable and eventually I was able to maneuver myself around so that his hand was forced to drop off.

When his hands weren’t on me, he seemed normal.  We talked. He’s had a cool life…lived in a lot of places, seemed to have a lot of things in common with me.  He asked a lot about my job… apparently my profession is a favorite of his to date (an opinion I’m learning that is shared by many) and we seemed to be getting a long well.    I could almost forgive the handsy beginning we had… almost.

We walked around the area for a bit, stopping in one of my favorite home décor stores with the pretense of him getting some tea for his mom.  And here’s where we go completely downhill.

I’ll give you the quick and dirty, play by play.

At the end of the tea aisle—throws an arm around me and hugs me close, “How tall are you again?” (Imagine a creepy whispering voice)  “5’10” (I’m staring down at his shoulder, weirded out)  “I love tall girls.”. “I like tall me too” I maneuver out from under his arm.

Walking up the condiment aisle— I’m talking about mustard…he grabs me and kisses me. Not just a peck but the beginning of a full-out make-out kiss…which is CREEPY so I back off and go down another aisle.

Things that register in my brain:  I’m in a store. Its 5:30 and Creeper McCreepson has now kissed me.

We leave the store.  I’m done.  Crossing him off my list of future dates and mentally writing this blog when he grabs my hand as we’re walking. He’s talking… I’m focused on the hands and on the second upswing; I swing my hand out of his.

I’m chatting politely, no idea on the topic, and he insists on walking me to my car.  My inner voice is laughing and reminding me how grateful I am that my good friend lives around the corner from here (Escape plans are going to be KEY for all future dates!).

At the car- “So it was nice to meet you…” I say as he sweeps into a Sporto move and twists around me so that I’m now pinned against my car and he is leaning down for the make-out.  My hands are up on his chest.

He continues to lean in, I continue to lean away, and twist from the car.

He wants to see me again. Says I need to “Help him out and tell him another time to see him”.  I smile as I get in my car and say, “Ok” as my inner voice screams, “NO WAY CREEPER!!” and I drive away.

“With great hotness comes great power” one of my dear friends told me upon relation of this story, “The power to say NO and take your fucking hands off me”.

Lesson learned.

I’m pretty sure you don’t have to be drunk to want to hang out with me…

Marine- 36. Divorced. 1 child (lives away).

I met the Marine a few weeks ago for a drink.  He was cute.  We talked a lot about football.  Guys seem to like that I like football…. But this guy talked about it A LOT. It bothered me at first, but hey, it’s a first date. We’re all grasping for commonalities to talk about, I reminded myself, and  decided to accept a second date.

This time I met up with him closer to his place in a quaint historic town with lots of restaurants and bars. It’s a place I had only been to 2x before but had been enchanted by it.  I was looking forward to seeing him again and getting a chance to see him in his “element”.

Pulling into his complex should have been my first clue.  It was a little rougher than I had expected.  Reminded me a little of some of the major cities I had previously worked in and his neighbors were all outside, on a random Wednesday (I had off that week from my job)…many of them with beers in hand… a few called out “Hellos”.

Entering his apartment should have been my next clue. Sparse furniture. Reasonably clean and near. Marine paraphernalia everywhere.  Kitchen counter completely stocked with more liquor bottles than I could read in the 10 mins scanning time I had.

I sat down and he offered me a drink right away, a Yuengling, in my honor…and we waited for a cab to come pick us up.

My next clue should have come when I watched him kill 3 beers and do 2 shots before we got in the cab… but whatever, it was his day off.. who am I to judge? We got in the cab, headed down to the main drag of the town and stopped at one of his favorite bars to eat and drink.

It was somewhere in the middle of the meal that I realized that I was not only uncomfortable but sorta over the date in itself.  I walked off to the bathroom, texting another dude as I went, and when I returned he was on his 3rd drink.  It was official.  I was uncomfortable and slightly irritated.  You don’t have to drink to want to be around me… so this was going to be a problem.

We left and went to another bar, sat outside and continued to talk…he continued to drink.  Finally I said, “You’ve had a lot to drink already.” I was teasing, but not really… and his response, “Well, you’re from MYHometown, you can handle it.” I looked at him for a second before I replied, “Yeah, I can handle drunk guys… it doesn’t mean I want to. And actually, I think I’m going to go.”

He called a cab… while we waited, he went back into the bar to have another drink– which he had to chug because the cab got there fast… and drove it back to his apartment with me.

Needless to say.. we weren’t going to be getting together again.