Heat Waves

I am back on Song Titles as Blog Titles because movie titles don't do the trick. 🤷

Soooo, I have very clearly detailed all of my awful "dating-app first dates".

So many so, that I have had a few of you ask me if I am ok.

The answer to that is YES.

YES

Yes, yes, YES.

I didn't go on Tinder to find a husband, a boyfriend, or anything other than...

?

Plainly put, I went on Tinder to find a FWB that would not cause me to lose any more friends because it sucks to have to end friendships because too many lines were crossed.

Far better to make new friends with the express purpose of...benefits with no strings, yeah?

YAWL...In spite of all of my previous "swing and a miss" stories...

I hit the jackpot.

Like, CHING, CHING!!

Stacks on stacks

I know I have previously detailed my atrocious first dates and bad matches, and it makes for great comedy.

I like it when things are funny.

Funny takes feelings out of the equation.

I can do funny allllll day long.

Feelings?

NYET.

Not so much.

So, when I have a Tinder experience that is gorgeous and fun and alllllll the things everyone on Tinder that doesn't want to get married (NO MARRIAGE!, as gorgeous G once wrote me when I asked what his Tinder goals were-more on him next week), I don't want to share it because I am better talking about my disasters than my success.

However, "M" needs to be celebrated, just so you singletons can grok that - every once in a while - you can hit 'pay dirt' on a dating app.

I already disclosed that I quit Tinder and have 3 humans I still talk to.

2 of them are really fun to chat with and we talk about all sorts of wild, improbable things that will, most likely, have no bearing on any of our real lives.

The third..."M".

Oh, boy.

Tinder opened my eyes about a lot of things.

Everyone lies about their height, weight, and hair follicles.

Everyone eats ass.  (I know, I know...*CRINGE*)  This has to be said, though, because it comes up alllllll the time and is part of the reason I dipped out on that app.

Like, WHAT????

Also, everyone is ENM.

ENM.

I learned that phrase in December.

It means, "Ethically Non-Monogamous".

To me, in my rather adventurous 20's, that just meant sleeping with anyone you fancied and calling it 'just for fun'.

Or, "I like that you bleached your hair so you look like a Wal-Mart Eminem, so Imma bone you but also never call you again."

These dudes are the same when wearing beer goggles. JS.

Nowadays, it means that you have multiple relationships that have nothing to do with the others, but it is done very respectfully in terms of emotions, safety, and boundaries.

I ignored all ENM people until, in March of this year, then I met 2 people that interested me to the point that I swiped the good way, in spite of the ENM tag.

Guy 1 was adorable, sweet, and funny.  Unfortunately, he bore such an uncanny resemblance to the love of my life, that I had to explain my problem and delete him.  I mean...If I can't have my LD, why would I ever settle for a pale imitation?  Nope!

Guy 2 was "M".  Gorgeous, funny, sardonic, and actually used the word 'sapiosexual' in his profile.

LIKE, SWIPE ALLLLL THE CORRECT DIRECTIONS FOREVER!!

We messaged and then texted and talked and talked.

We decided to meet on a Wednesday at 7.  After a very adorable day-of-the-month mix-up, of course, because I can't have nice fucking things - right? - we met up.

It was one of the first gorgeous Springtime PNW evenings.  Sunset, soft air, birds, etc.

We meet at the cutest bar in NoPo.

There was banter, and laughing, and pool, and craft cocktails.  

Hot bartender that recommended the best pizza anyone ate in April 2021, and she was hyper-vigilant about masks, so I wanted to marry her in spite of my not being a lesbian.

ANYway...

There was kissing and hand-holding and some earlobe interaction...  I mean, that kind of thing can happen to anyone, anywhere, yeah?

Also, there was an epic goodbye kiss that lasted for about 200 years - or 20 minutes - they can sometimes feel the same.

Literally the best first date with a stranger that anyone ever had on the planet.

Like, I got home and IMMEDIATELY messaged him. 

 I never do that.

Not because I play it cool...as if!!  Have you even met me??

Simply because I just don't ever do all the things that make dating NOT awkward if given the chance.

In fact...

The opposite.

However...this time?

I went to bed buzzy and kind of goofy, and I made sure he knew about it.  He was super appropriate and - dare I say it? - sweet and very into the whole vibe.

It was quite swoony to be honest.

There is no way I can caption this without making it a cringe-fest, so let's just not say a f*cking thing.  The sentiment was real AF tho!

Like, SWOON, swoony.

Work happened, life happened, and then we decided to meet on another Wednesday at 7:00 a few weeks later.

Second verse, same as the first.

Kisses, laughing, hand-holding, and allllllll the talking and laughing and kissing and just having the best second date ever.

At this point, I am kind of wondering when the other shoe is going to drop..

Like,  I could meet this dude at NoPo bars and kiss him on patios and have drinks and burgers and fries and pizza forever and never even try to do any single thing besides those things forever and it would be great.

Until...

I mean, it's ME, so you know it just doesn't go that smoothly, DUH!!!

Date #3.  Another Wednesday at 7.

PNW Spring night.  Kissing, hand-holding, walking, talking...Listening to French music al fresco.

Lots of talking.

Like, allllllll the talking.

We get on a subject that makes me SUPER sad and also uncomfortable.

Like, SO UNCOMFORTABLE.

I sort of  try to convey my discomfort without taking up too much space because I always try to do that when I feel weird.  Like, I get as small as possible.

I make a joke that allows the uncomfortable talk to continue..  Like, I was being sarcastic, but the tone wasn't right, so it sounded like I wanted the convo to continue...

Finally, after misreading each other's tone and body language for about 10 minutes,  I...

Welll...

I left.

He was being a gentleman and walked me outside.

Not knowing that I had locked the door behind me.

I LOCKED HIM OUT OF HIS OWN HOUSE.

This is not a bad first date story, people.

We are on date THREE and I locked dude out of his own house at 9:00 at night.

CRINGE WITH ME, PLEASE!!

Anyway, owing to a well-placed unlocked window, he got into his house and I got home without spontaneously combusting with shame - it was a very near thing  -and we had a conversation and all was well and we decided we would hang out as soon as I got home from my EPIC ROAD TRIP (tomorrow), so all was good and he even fielded a very drunk phone call while I was on my trip with admirable aplomb.  [I am not unaware of the length of that sentence. If you have ever heard me talk, you get it.]

When I got home, we talked a bit, but something came up on my end, so Date #4 on a Wednesday at 7 was postponed -- I mean, like, is that even surprising??

So Date #4 is Monday.

How do I feel about this?

Like, this dude makes me allllllllllllll kinds of swoony.

He is funny, well-read, articulate, definitely not trying to push past my boundaries.

I don't have time or space for a dude in my life.

He doesn't have time or space for a Mary in his life.

Like, this is perfect, yeah?

Annnnd, now I am so effing nervous about this next date that I can't even think about what I am wearing or how I am going to act or anything.

Like, he isn't my boyfriend, he is just my new friend.

We aren't exclusive, rather we are very inclusive of his person and any person that I choose as my person.  And I very definitely have 2 persons in the queue.

Like, he isn't some rando I met at a bar or a sporting event (hello, COVID!) or a hot but inappropriate Uber driver - ya'll won't EVER get that one out of me!

This is a real human that I have real feelings about that has a real partner that is not me and I am supposed to be super blasé about all of this and just keep moving forward because this is what we do, right?  I mean, I am fine with all of it, but I am also feeling very weird about the fact that I am fine with that.

ANYWAY, this was supposed to be a story about how Tinder isn't total trash, about how you can actually get exactly what you are looking for if you release all interest in outcomes, about how sometimes the most random interactions can turn out to be so not-random, but I think I got sidetracked.

I do that.

A lot.

Story of my life, and exactly how I ended up right here.

Okay, so not EVERYTHING we want, but close enough!

Sayonara Spinster??

Haha, I could EASILY send this pic to 10 people right now!!

Everyone seems to agree that I need a boyfriend.




Except me. 




My sister has been nagging me for a year or two, since I am always the 3rd, 5th, or 7th wheel at family events, barbecues, etc.  I am a bad-ass cook and a super cleaner, though, so I always get invited, spinster or not.




My oldest daughter seemed a little impatient at my sister's gender reveal party last week, when I told her I had failed to secure a man since she last asked me about it in November. 


"You've been single for a long time, haven't you?"  she said, nose wrinkling slightly....as if my solo status was mildly repugnant.




I have been single for a long time.  FOUR AND A HALF YEARS, to be exact.  If I am still un-partnered by September 29 this year, I will have been single for FIVE ENTIRE YEARS.




That is a long time, especially for me.  I have always been a serial dater.  I would date someone for a couple of years, lose interest, say goodbye, and then start dating someone else for a couple of years, until it got boring, etc., etc.

See her smiling?  That's me!!

However, my last "relationship" -- and by relationship, I mean 'trainwreck', was a doozy.  All of my friends and family could not believe I was dating this person, many of them were furious with me, and a few of them expressed some real concern.  He was definitely not the kind of person I would normally date, and I have no explanation or justification for spending 2 years with him, or for exposing my daughter to him for that long. 




When I got out --  and that is exactly what it sounds like; I 'got out' of the relationship the same way one would 'get out' of a burning building or a mangled vehicle, swiftly, fearfully, slightly panicked, with much post-escape checking to make sure I didn't actually sustain any damage as a result -- I convinced him to move to Alaska (he was from there), and I ended up moving back to my hometown for a while. 


And, yes, I wrote correctly. 


 I talked him into moving to Alaska.  I am that gifted, and if you don't believe me, give me a call and I will talk you into believing it. 






Skillz, people, MAD SKU-HILLZ.






Anyway, I now have no confidence in my ability to judge men.  I literally cannot believe I didn't see what everyone else did in You Know Who -- that's what Lexi started calling him because she didn't want to say his name, and he has been relegated to Voldemort status since then -- and I cannot believe it took me throwing my phone into a storm drain and getting a new # to not have to hear from him, because he would not leave me alone.






So, I have settled for Singleton status, rather than step back in the dating fray and risk another monumental error in judgment.

#Truth

Also, since I am being truthful here, there are a couple of people I reeeaaaaallllllllllyyyyy want to have sex with, and if I am in a relationship and then the opportunity to sleep with any of them comes up, I will have to pass, and that makes me feel kinda mad. 
 Does that make me a bad person? 
No? 
Just slutty, tho, right?  *sigh* 
 Used to it.....










ANYway, everyone around me seems to insist that I get coupled up, and I am not sure why basically everyone has an opinion on my old maid lifestyle this year...it's weird because, rather than one or 2 people making casual remarks here and there, 100% of the people I consider myself closest to, and even a couple that I am hardly close to anymore but still know me very well have randomly inserted a question about why I am not dating into otherwise normal conversations. 


I usually refer to YKW, but realize that that excuse is wearing a bit thin after FIVE YEARS (4.5 but who's counting?  Oh, wait. EVERYONE IS COUNTING!!!)




I figured I could get away with another 6 months of demurring, dissembling, and denial, until....




Lexi asked me to get a boyfriend.  And she meant it.




For reals.




Shit just got real.  Like, really, REAL.


My daughter is one of the most interesting people I have ever met, and aside from some VERY publicly humiliating instances when she was in Kindergarten, she has maintained minimal interest in my love life (except that one time she told a co-worker of mine that she had JUST MET, that I had a crush on one of our fellow coworkers; completely un-prompted-- just blurted it out....little shit!).






She always took a great deal of pleasure in speculating on her dad's love life (he went through women like Kleenex the last couple years of his life), and singing the "Daddy - and - (insert name here) - sitting - in - a - tree" song, gleefully, when she got the chance.




But, Mommy?  Not so much. 


Until now.


Which basically means I am doomed --DOOMED, I TELL YOU -- to dip my toe back in the dating pool and hope there aren't any piranhas or sharks up in this bitch.






  Stay tuned........