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!

Send In The Clowns

 

Tinder. 

Tinder, Tinder, TINDER.

I have been wanting to write about this all month but did not quite know how to go about it since I am still in the thick of it.

 

I was messaging someone on Tinder yesterday and told him my profile was turned off more than it was turned on.

Um…

Yeah, you cannot even call that a metaphor.

 

I have been WAY more turned off by Tinder than I have been turned on.

 

Here are things about Tinder that are true:

 

1.  Dudes want to move the conversation to Messenger, Kik, Insta, text, or any other platform so they can ask for nudes. I do not get this.  Not one little bit.  There is a whole wide internet out there and there is Pornhub, so WHY do you want some middle-aged tap dancing mom to send you nudes??  Also, when she refuses them, why do you call her names?

 

Case Study:  66. Literally the most gorgeous human on the planet.  Hilarious, Red Sox fan, smart, well-read, literally the only forearms I want to put my hands on ever again.  We go to texts, I vow nudes are not a thing,

Nudes come up in every convo.

Now, I am totally enamored with his brain and his forearms and his ears, so I keep talking to him through all of this until we have this epic battle that goes like this:

I mean...

 

 

I had enough and now we do not talk.  And I can't even be super sad about it in spite of the - literally - most gorgeous, hilarious, super funny Red Sox fan anyone ever met, because it was so off-putting.

2.       Dudes use old pictures.  I do not get this either.  Like, I get that some chicks use filters to blur their flaws and look much younger and thinner and with thicker eyelashes.  That is trash, my dudes, and I totally understand that.  My pics are blurry because my camera sucks, but I promise you can see every wrinkle, all my fat, my chipmunk cheeks, and all of my insomnia-induced undereye bags…. So, I do not understand why most Tinder dudes use pictures that are at least 10 years old, then get mad when connections do not work out in person – YOU LITERALLY ARE NOT THAT PERSON TODAY, DUDE!

 

Case Study: M.  M matched me and I was not super ok with it because he was super adorable and looked younger than my Eldest, but he was hot af so...  *shrugs, tosses moral reservations out the window*

Anyway, he was hilarious, articulate, smart, engaged in current events, so we talked all day every day for 2 weeks.

As things went on and we moved to text (where he immediately asked for nudes and sent me pics of his junk and his face), it became clear that his profile pictures were older than my 14 year old.

So, I asked about it, like, BRO you know your pics look nothing like you look today, yeah?

GHOSTED.

 

 

3.       Guys on Tinder lie about their height.

OOOF.  Fellas, why do you do this??  I am 5’3”.  So, if you tell me you are 5’10”, and I show up wearing 4-inch heeled boots and I can see your bald spot??  Um….  I do not get this.  At my height, I am hardly able to judge you based on your height.  Why not just be clear from the start?

This happened to me on 2 different occasions, and I was super annoyed.  Not at the shortness, but at the deception.

 

Case Study.  D. 

I meet D at Starbucks in Downtown Vancouver.  We get drinks and walk to the Waterfront, neither of us voicing the obvious – my jaw is on the same level as the top of his head.  I suggest we sit on a bench at the Pier.  I expect him to address it, but NOPE.  So, we talk and walk around and when we say goodbye, I pat him on the head,

Guess who unmatched me before I got home?

 

4.       Guys on Tinder lie about being bald.  This is just ludicrous, Bald is fantastic.  Like, who does not love a slap-head??  I know I do.

 

Case Study.  Chuck.  His name was not Chuck or even Charles, but Chuck is what Peppermint Patty calls her bald friend, so I am all in. 

Chuck wore hats – Red Sox hats, so YUM – in all his Tinder pics.  Thought nothing of it.  We meet for coffee and go walking.

I am wearing a wig to cover my blue mohawk, Chuck is wearing a Red Sox cap over his bald head.

It gets windy.

Since I was totally honest about my hair, I whipped my wig off, fluffed it out, adjusted the straps, and replaced it.

He said he liked the color of my mohawk and asked why I covered it up.  I let him know the whole sordid tale.

The wind blew Chuck’s hat off and exposed him in all his Telly Savalas glory.  Instead of taking the piss, he skulks around and gets all quiet.

Later, as we are messaging as a post-mortem, I ask him about the bald – is it organic or ornamental?

GHOSTED.

 

Guys, I am tired.

I got on Tinder to – this is where my Offspring, Nieces, Sisters, Religious friends etc. need to sign off – ummm…just have casual 'friends'.

So, ya'll, all of this subterfuge and obfuscation is exhausting.

 I literally thought the internet was a place I could go and safely find a FWB without too much drama or effort, but instead I am subject to all of your idiosyncrasies and ignominious behavior.

I object.

 

Why are ya’ll like this??

 

I will tell you that, as of this moment in time, I am talking to some absolutely fabulous humans that have made me laugh and laugh all weekend in spite of me having numerous COVID symptoms and being fearful of my imminent demise.

They are all completely different personalities, and they all get me in some kind of way, and it's super fun.

 

Thus far, I have not seen any evidence of the above issues, but we will see.

 

Fingers crossed, otherwise Imma stay home and look at this forever,