i hate this part

So, I'm still in recovery from the 6 week tryst that broke my loving soul. Now it's time to let this guy down and I don't want to do it!

I've tried. I've really tried to look past the fact that I shiver at the thought of him touching me. That his cologne disgusts me. How he manages to offend all five of my senses. I've tried to overlook these things because we really do have a lot in common. We use the same made-up words, listen to the same music, watch the same shows. Our favorite bar happens to be the same obscure pub! On paper things look perfect.... well, as long as his cologne hasn't wafted near the paper... 

We've gone on half a dozen dates. He finally kissed me. It was horrible. Awful really. I'm still happy it's over. 

Now it's time to end the rest of the deal. And I gotta let him off easy. I don't want to inspire a blog, or break a loving soul. Not again. But unlike the Vajayjay I will tell him I'm not interested. Only true Vajayjays back away slowly until they disappear altogether.

thin line between lust and date

a good match at last, i think...
he makes me cry laughing, smart, successful, educated, loves hip hop music, reality tv, exercises regularly... but i don't want to jump him. i don't even really wanna hold his hand.
is this a game of mind over "does it really matter"?
we are so comfortable together. i feel really in tune with him. no sign of psychosis after 3 long fabulous dates. he hasn't even tried to kiss me. nothing more than a hug. maybe he feels the same way?
after years of dating duds who flip my switch, i think it's time to go for the guy who entertains my brain. looking forward to the next date, and hopefully a first kiss.

One Stop Cop

   I think I always secretly wanted to date a cop. I mean...Fuck it, right?
   I've spent 1/2 my life doing things that would make a cop shake his head back-and-forth like Willow Smith, but like I said. Fuck it.
[SIDE NOTE: SAYING "FUCK IT" RARELY RESULTS IN SOMETHING GOOD]
   Josh looked like a handsome bloke in his profile pictures: over 6 feet-tall, blond hair, blue eyes, a prominent nose, a strong jaw line and a healthy dusting of freckles. All of his pictures showed him with a wide, closed- mouth smile. There was a kindness in his eyes that appealed to me. Looked sweet, really.
   Other than the fact that we are both single parents of ADORABLE little girls, we had nothing in common. Nothing. He was a MIX FM kinda guy, and Journey makes me wanna pluck my eyelashes out. He loved Tosh.O, and action movies; I can't stand either. He'd never had Indian food, and was nervous to try it because spicy food makes his sinuses hurt from when he was stabbed in the face (true story). He didn't exercise, hated hip-hop music, drank Coors light, loved NASCAR and had ze-ro sense of humor. I've laughed harder at a smeared turd on the ground (true story).
   Our short-lived relationship occurred over the phone: text messages and phone calls. I would call him on my way home from work most days. Every one of those phone conversations started with him asking, "Are you speeding?" Yes I was, I'd tell him. Ten miles over the legal limit. "Ahh that's nothin," he'd say.
   He worked nights and would call me from the patrol car. I got a thorough education on the amount of drugs that run per day through his district. He was happy to share Copper stories in his deep monotone voice; a distant chuckle every now and then as he recalled the situations. I could almost hear him shaking his head.
   Josh was a newbie copper. He'd spent 6 years in the Air Force, and was deployed three times. He had some stories, I'll tell ya. Story after story kept me coming back for more.
   Two weeks of texts and phone calls, and he never asked me out on a date. Never even brought it up. I told him I'm not looking for a phone-a-friend. Another 10 days later he asked me out on Friday for a date on Monday, but didn't suggest any concrete plans. Saturday and Sunday passed without a word. Monday came and almost went before he cancelled. He blamed the sudden change of plans on his daughter.
   "Let's just forget it all completely." I texted back.
   "Ok." he said.

Can get a shake with that Lie?

Jake the Shake Weight contacted me on match. He claims I was the only girl he'd ever emailed on the site (lie #1).

Jake the Shake Weight is a divorced personal trainer with cauliflower ear who has two huge dogs, and full custody of his 13-year-old son. He owns a house (wait, did he say apartment that time? #2), owns his own business (didn't that last text say he owns THREE businesses? #3) a degree in Nuclear Engineering (#4) and a Master's degree in some really long title that he simplified as, "basically computer hacking" (#5). He talked fast, ate fast and adorned every text with a variety of smiley faces :-/

We talked for about a week over the phone, text and email. He was kind of charming, quick-witted and super passionate about health and fitness. Above all he was passionate about meeting me. Within the first week I was invited to lunch, dinner, his son's lacross game, a Reds game, and his other son's 16th birthday party (wait, I thought he only had one son! #6).

The answer to every questions started with, "Weeeeeeeellllll.... it's kind of a long story" (aka lie).
I get approached by a lot of single dads who have full custody of the kiddos. I didn't even know there was so many of them out there. The story of why/how they became a single dad is usually convoluted and sad. His was just pathetic. I won't get into it. Another weird detail was that he hadn't seen his own mom in 6 years, but she had just popped back into his life that very day (#7?).
He was DYYYYYYYIIINNNNNGGGGGGG to meet me. He was willing to jump rivers to have a cup of coffee with me. It was weird. I finally freed up some time to hang out with him. I suggested a coffee shop. He wanted IHOP. Whatever. He suggested I let his MOM babysit for the coffee, the Reds game, the lacrosse game, etc. I sincerely declined.
IHOP was filthy, as expected. He was a little greasy and apparently really hungry having come straight from a workout. I dressed in basically my finest pajamas. (I'm clearly over it)  He literally shoved his face between stories about being hit by a car on the highway while changing a stranger's tire (#8), where his ex-wife lived (Louisville? Cinci? Middle Earth? [#9]), AND my favorite stack of lies: his degrees.
He must've built a woodshed to store all those gleaming degrees. At first he had two: a bachelor's and a master's as previously stated. In the next stated paragraph he had three: TWO bachelor's and a master's. After being questioned he had only one: a bachelor's! He then said he wasn't "sure whether this one counts", but he had "tested out" of his associate's degree! Like a fucking math class, he tested out! Incredible! On top of the associate's he had a bachelor's, and was three courses away from completing his master's! And all of this stellar education took place online (#s 10-17).
I left. I literally had to go. I didn't even finish my crepe. He went on and on about what I should be eating, and how often I should eat in order to get in shape. Unsolicited personal training in the crusty confines of an IHOP.
Thanks for dining. Please don't come again.
He called me on my way home. He wanted to know what I thought about him. He went on and on and on about the power of pheromones. I interrupted. I explained that I really wasn't feeling it. He let out a dramatic "Oh NoOOOO!" and I never heard from him again.
I'm checking to see if I might "test out" of a doctorate in something that basically means human lie detection. I think I've got a real shot.

Hair plugs and Man boobs

Like a stale chicken nugget, Matt McNormal and I had no flavor. Date number two was just as dry as the first. No big deal.
Then I had this other guy, (whom I'm CERTAIN had hair plugs, but I'm trying to keep an open mind) ask me out on a date. I did the babysitter shuffle only to have him cancel on me! He says, "but don't forget about me!"
Don't worry asshole. I won't forget you were the guy who bailed on me after I busted my ass finding a babysitter, and stressed all day about covering up the freak zit on my cheek that won't go away.
Oh, and let me not forget ROSS. He and I exchanged a few emails on match.com. He asked for my phone number. The next afternoon I had a picture text pop up of him in his boxer briefs (is that a lil chubby I see? yes, it is) man-boobs and all. His tits were bigger than mine. I began to wonder: do they grant a discount for a couples liposuction?
All-in-all, this week was completely inappropriate and disturbing.

this is rill

an actual "about me" copied-and-pasted from a dude who 'winked' at me:


I like some one that is out going and fun.....that is good with kids , and in joys being out doors !going camping .. and i like to shop .... some one that likes haveing a cup of coffee .. some one that in joye taking care of there self.... i like to have sone that would go work out with me..




= not a match.

Matt McNormal

Matt McNormal was a such relief. I'm no longer foolish enough to commit to dinner on a blind date, so we met for a drink.
First impression: great posture, perfect teeth, tall&trim but not lanky, not a whiff of cologne and a little bit of a country boy drawl.
We both ordered the Ultimate Margarita. He takes his rim unsalted. We blabbed for three hours over that one drink. (side note: I'm such a lightweight that half-way through the night I actually drooled on myself a little, but I don't think he caught it... I'm a complete disaster)
As we left he didn't ask for my phone number or another date. I chalked it up to a lack of chemistry (or the drool bomb) and wasn't that disappointed. Sure, we had a lot in common, and time zipped by, but I wasn't dying to jump the table.
Next day I had a very polite email from him: he had a great time, would like to take me out again.
:: Another order of Matt McNormal coming right up ::