Online Dating is not That Bad?

19 Oct

This is what I have to say for myself:

It’s raining cats and dogs.

My classroom is totally flooded. Got off work late.

J lost her cat, panicked, then found it.

Got cat allergies.

Went home. Drank to glasses of wine. Mispelled two.

45 year old divorcé+2 asked if he could dominate me.

No.

27 year old kiddo wrote me a cute message.

Too tipsy to overthink it.

Gave him my number.

Going out Tuesday.

Worst case senario – I finally get laid.

Will fill you in.

Good night.

I Don’t Even Know What to Name This Post

18 Oct

I am well aware that this is my third post in 24 hours. This is what happens when I’m left alone to contemplate on my weekend off.

All week I’ve been pestering my friends, trying to make plans for this weekend, and everyone’s been busy. Literally, there were no options, even my parents went away this weekend. So I binged on seafood and beer and watched a movie (girl’s life sucks and then she meets a dude) and spent too much time online, and finally I went to bed and took forever to fall asleep, and pulled a muscle in my shoulder which is bugging the hell out of me.

And oh, in case you were wondering, my preiod’s late and I have horrible PMS. And don’t worry, I’m not pregnant, last time I checked you needed to have sex for that to happen, and I’m just not that lucky. But, this waiting irritably for my period to come has one perk to it, which is that no matter how fucking lonely and sad I feel right now, I cannot sleep with an ex. And I think that should be my new life mission: no sleeping with exes.

Last night after finally falling asleep, reading a silly romance novel (girl’s life sucks and then she meets a dude, sound familiar?) recommended by my friend J, who guess what, went away this weekend with everyone else, I had a very weird erotic dream, which I am about to share with you lucky bastards.

I was in Berlin, in my friend M’s uncle and aunt’s house, where we visited summer 2013. That was a hell of a trip. I’m going to sidetrack now and tell you about it for a second. M had only recently found out that she was sick, and it was as good an excuse as any to get together for a reunion trip. There was me, playing the role of the single mom, betrayed by her partner of 13 years, but awesomely strong and feeling hot post affair with SG. There was G, who now has three kids and is in a cult, but back then only had two kids and was in a cult. She had recently moved into a new house in the middle of nowhere and was weening her youngest from nursing, so had sore boobs the entire trip and basically could not believe that she was actually sleeping through the night. J was the stable one, which was weird because shortly before she had been the all-over-the-place-looking-for-herself one. She lived with a boyfriend, who we all loved, but now hate, since they broke up. She’d quit the life of unbearably low teacher’s income to work in hi tech and was overwhelmed by the hours, the emails and the stress, but at the same time enjoying immensly the sense of financial relief. E couldn’t come. She was busy going into labor. Actually, I think I should lable her as the stable one. She’d had a bunch of shitty stuff happen to her, but she was now living with her very kind and loveable husband and having a baby with him. Plus, she’d just handed in her thesis.

Then there was M. I met M when we were 18 and clueless and soldiers (gotta love mandatory military service), and I hated her at first because she’d made a comment about my weight. She’d been cynical, she later clarified, and I hadn’t discovered cynicism yet back then. A few months later we got to know each other and became best buds. Our gang got me through some rough times. I was horribly depressed in the army (and then I met a guy. Sound familiar?).

Anyway, M was going through some hard times back then, and her way of dealing with it was for us to go out dancing until the wee hours of the night. She didn’t like to drink back then, so she was always the designated driver. She lived with her parents in a gorgeous house in a beautiful town with the greenest most soothing views. And our favorite thing to do, after clubbing, was to come home at 6 am and order junk food and eat it at the best viewpoint in town, joking loudly about the guys who had hit on us, or who’d told us we danced like whores (true story). Our ears still ringing post BabyOneMoreTime and YourLoveGotMeSoCrazyRightNow, we’d fall asleep until it was early afternoon and then laze about in the garden, picking fruit from the trees.

Fuck.

I know I was talking about Berlin, and my dream, which now suddenly feels totally unimportant. I’ve been very honest and open in this blog until now, but if there’s one thing I haven’t written about at all it’s my friend M’s sickness. And I think I mostly haven’t written about it because she’s one of the only people I know who reads this blog. And it feels sort of unfair to write about how hard it is for me that she’s sick, and to have her read about it. Sort of like how my mom kept telling me how hard it was for her when BD and I broke up.

Obviously it’s hard to worry about her. Obviously seeing someone you deeply love in pain is the worst thing in the world. Obviously it pains me that I would like to be there for her more than I am able to, physically and emotionally. But in all honesty, the worst part is the most selfish part. I just miss our carefree friendship of early 20’s. I miss going out to a club and dancing “like whores”, and making fun of the boys that hit on us. And I’m not good at being patient. And you need a lot of patience to fight cancer.

Well.

Berlin.

That trip, I think, was a moment of forgetting about all the crap that was going on in some of our lives and just having some carefree fun. I think I remembered it now because I was going through some old photos and maybe that’s why it entered my weird sex dream which I was about to talk about when I began reminiscing like some sad 80 year old. So let’s get back to it, shall we?

I was with M at her uncle and aunt’s house, and I think the rest of the gang was there too. Yes, E as well, I’m remembering now, no kiddos, just us. And there was a guy there, his name was K, and actually, I know him. When I went on my three magical day vacation in Budapest this summer, he had showed me around. I knew him through M, because she was into couch surfing and he’d stayed at her apartment in the city the year before. K was really sweet, funny and had a sexy French accent, because he was originally from Bourdeau. Anyway, he was in my dream too, and we were sharing a room.

The room was enormous and our single beds were at two completely different corners of it. Before we’d gone to bed we’d had a dinner all together, with the aunt and uncle as well, and we were drinking red wine and laughing and K and I were slightly flirtatious, but only slightly. When we got to the bedroom though, I decided I was going to make a move.

I was a little worried because I hadn’t showered, and I felt self concsious. Still, I felt like I had not been touched in forever (wonder where that feeling came from) and I decided to just go for it. I came to his bed and started chatting and kind of touching him on the shoulder and flirting. And he said: “I don’t know if this is a good idea.” Which I read as rejection. But then I said to myself, don’t over think it, and I kind of continued flirting and soon we were making out. I remember vividly thinking to myself that if he had said this was not a good idea, that meant this was probably a one-time thing. And I was OK with that. It also crossed my mind that he might actually stop in the middle, because who knows, maybe there was a good reason why he’d said that. And then I remember thinking, even if we don’t actually go through with this, at least someone is holding me right now. I should just stop thinking and enjoy this warmth because who knows when anyone is going to ever hold me again.

He was warm, and I remember it in a non-sexual sort of way, like it was just comforting and nice. And then, it started to become sexual and I was totally worried about the shower thing again, so I told him I needed to go to the bathroom and went to shower quickly. I had to run around the entire house half naked and couldn’t find the shower, and finally did, and there was no door or towel, and I sort of washed myself and somehow dried up, but then the shower curtain fell and I just decided not to fix it and run back to the room.

He was still in bed and was waiting for me, and I was surprised he still wanted me, because I was sure I’d taken too long and he would be over it. And then we fucked and it was totally boring and missionary, but just so nice and comfortable and warm and when it was over I was prepared to go back to my bed but then I got the nerve to ask him to hold me and he did.

There will be no paragraph tying everything I’ve writted here together, with some hopeful message to the world or to myself. In two hours my Boy comes home and I go back to being a mom, which is something I can handle. So for now, goodbye alone time. I hope to not encounter you any time soon.

Online Dating is Fucking Depressing – Part 2: Having a Kid Together will be Inevitable

17 Oct

I’m not even going to embelish this. This is a direct quote from my chat with hot shirtless guy doing shots and eating M&Ms in his profile pic. Seriously, dreamy. Until we started chatting.

Me: So, shots and M&Ms, yummy :)

Him: Hey cutie. What are you up to tonight?

Me: Honestly, just a quiet evening at home, ginger beer, cooking, watching a movie. Quality time with me. What about you?

Him: I’m at the hospital hon. Had throat surgery. Would have loved to cuddle with you and watch a good movie.

Me: Oh man, sorry to hear. Hope you get better soon.

Him: Listen, I’m not looking to play games, I really want to get to know you. And I’m looking for something serious.

Me: OK. Well, since I can tell you value straight-forwardness, I’m not really sure what I’m looking for. Someone to get to know, spend time with and see where things go.

Him: Sure sounds good. We’ll get to know eachother, see how it goes. I’m sure we’ll get along well and move in together, and then if things go well we can have a baby together.

Me: I don’t know if you’re being serious.

Him: Of course I’m being serious. I’m not into playing games.

Me: Oh. Well, I just think it’s a little wierd that we don’t even know each other and you’re taking about having a kid together.

Him: I’m just saying, if things go well between us it’s inevitable that we have a kid together.

Me: Ah. In that case.

Lonely Shrimp & and Beer

17 Oct

It’s so fucking quiet here right now. The only sounds I can hear are the hum of the cheap ceiling fan I had installed in the living room, my fingers hitting the keyboard and my way to many thoughts.

Only several hours ago the place was a mess. My kid refusing to nap was bouncing off the sofas an onto the coffee table scream-singing the Fireman Sam theme song, being chased by a dog we’d been sitting for a few days, bouncy, scratchy, loud and annoying (and cute). I had a headache and no patience, and my period was late (still is) and I needed a break and a drink.

Then BD came to collect them, smooth and calm, like only a man who does not live with his toddler looks when he comes to pick him up. Suddenly the house was quiet.

I should have been relieved. But as I cracked open a beer and sat on the sofa, all I could feel was emptiness. Toys all over the living room floor wanted to be played with. My messy bed where my son had been jumping in his over-exhausted hyper fit was calling for us to roll around in and make animal noises and tickle each other and squeal.

These sacred hours alone, I have so few of them in my schedule. They shouldn’t be spent crying and drinking beer. I should be having epiphanies. And sex. And magical moments with good friends which make me reevaluate my life. Instead I sauté shrimp with garlic, broccoli and butter. And I drink another beer. And then I watch a romantic comedy about this girl whose life is fucked, but then she meets a guy. Oh, you know the one.

You’d think all this would lift my mood, but you’d be wrong. Is it really this lonely to be single? And if I don’t love the guy and 100% do NOT want to be with him, doesn’t this mean that getting over him should be easier? Will alone ever again not equal lonely?

Online Dating is Fucking Depressing – Part 1: “And then she sucked his dick in the restroom.”

12 Oct

online-dating-sucks

So, I’ve signed up, once again, to an online dating service. A different one, because I thought the previous was depressing and full of weirdoes, but, as it turns out, so is this one.

The last website seemed to be full of men, just dying to hit on me. I had literally just pressed “upload” on my profile, and within seconds I had a dozen messages in my inbox. Most of those messages were from creeps, men who were at least 20 years older than me, and/or requesting me to stay “open minded” to their unusual preferences. I did meet one sweet guy whom I dated for a while later on, so I will give it that.

This time, however, my inbox is completely empty. I fucking hate it. I’ve gone through the site. It is also full of weirdoes and creeps. But none of those creeps want to contact me. And for some strange reason I find that offensive.

Well, a whole 10 hours have passed now, and I’ve gotten one hit. It was from someone I thought looked like a nice guy and he wrote something about not being able to ignore my profile which was cute-ish. So I struck up a conversation with him which quickly moved from the web to WhatsApp to the phone. And there we were. A late night phone call in the quiet and darkness of midnight on a weekday in my house, my son snoring in the other room. I spoke to this dude for a full 20 minutes, in which he directly stated several times how attracted he was, not just to my body, but to my personality (which he knows how?), that he is generous in bed (good to know), that he would like to make me moan and that the sexiest thing in the world to him is to see a woman enjoy herself in bed (he doesn’t beat around the bush, this guy). He proceeded then to compliment me on how cute and un-weird I was, recounting a story from the week before about going out to a pub with his friend and how both of them hit on a couple of girls who were stupid and shallow. His friend was into one of them, and they were talking, and then “four minutes later she sucked his dick in the restroom” (quote). The other one, which he wasn’t really into, invited him to eat stew in her house. Stew.

I thanked him for the information. And when he said we’d talk tomorrow, I answered, absentmindedly “sure” and thought to myself – this is great stuff for my blog, maybe I should talk to him again. But I quickly remembered the dick sucking story, and decided that if he wrote me again I’d somehow let him down. I mean really, that’s more of a third-date-story. You give me all your weirdness on our first phone conversation and I’m going to lose interest.

Online dating is the worst. It just makes you feel bad about yourself. If I were to start a dating service, I would have servers sending people automatic messages every time they uploaded something, saying random flattering stuff just to make them feel good.

I really want to meet a nice guy. He doesn’t have to be the one, or even one of the ones. He doesn’t have to have amazing looks or like the stuff I like, or be amazing in bed. I’m just craving a quiet intimate moment shared with a partner, who’s warm, and considerate, and not an asshole. And this time, I’d like to try and get there without sleeping with an ex.

The Morning After

3 Oct

Last night, a couple of friends and I went out with the deliberate aim of drunken escapism. Phones were on silent mode, tucked into our purses, and conversation was trashing exes, hilarious 20’s sex stories, and general ridicule of anything or anyone that got in our way.

I got back to an empty home past midnight, my Boy at his dad’s finally, giving me time to be just me for a minute. But at 1:00 am, in my bed, alone, I had a horrible urge to drunk-text an ex, any ex, anyone with a penis basically, just so that I wouldn’t have to be alone in my bed.

The funny thing about escapism is that as good as it feels when you’re there, that’s how sucky it feels when it’s over. You open your eyes in the morning and your post alcohol headache reminds you that you’re not in your 20’s anymore. Your best friend is still sick, and your ex is still an idiot, and your bed is still empty. And as much as catching up on sleep is grand and necessary, it takes a whole lot more convincing to get out of bed in the morning, when you don’t have an adorable two-year-old pulling at your pajamas at 6 am asking for cornflakes with milk and a story about Fireman Sam.

I want to stop. He wants to go on.

2 Oct

We just don’t work, I sadly said

And I meant more than just in bed.

Things have simply changed, I added.

We’re lacking passion, he admitted.

You’re all closed off, won’t let me in,

You shut me out, I just can’t win.

We’re trying to force it, but it’s impossible,

I sighed and said: we’re incompatible.

But what I truly felt inside

was more than anger, fear, or pride

I had forgiven, I’d felt compassion,

(I’d been to every therapy session)

That wasn’t it, there was something more,

Something I hadn’t said before,

I couldn’t say, it was too tough.

I didn’t love him quite enough.

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