Surgery

 

eyes

I’ve been a little quieter than usual lately.  That’s because I had a little downtime as I recovered from surgery.   Eye surgery.  LASIK, to be precise.  A month later it remains one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.  Now the nightmare is over and I’m finally free.  When the school nurse told me 24 years ago that I needed glasses, I felt my world crumbling around me.  The kids already made fun of me to no end, and they didn’t need more ammunition.

I’d read that carrots were good for eyesight, so for the next week I devoured them like my life depended on it.  Unfortunately it wasn’t enough to stave off my first prescription.  But I only needed them to read the blackboard, so it could have been worse.  However it got worse.  Over the years my eyesight deteriorated, going from 20/80 to 20/400.  I ended up wearing glasses nearly all the time just to see the world around me.  I hated the way they looked and how they made me felt.

When I went on dates I’d put my glasses on and quickly scour the bar or restaurant to find her, then hurriedly stash them out of sight before I was seen wearing them.  If there was a menu I’d read it online first so I’d already know what to order.  Style before comfort.  Finally I’d had enough.  Once I saved up the necessary cash (nearly $4000 – I got a discount) I went for a consultation and scheduled the procedure for a few weeks later.  My sister had it done two years ago and highly recommended the doctor.  I had very little idea what to expect since I didn’t ask my sister anything and purposely did no research.

I didn’t get nervous until I was in the waiting room, but even then they  gave me a Xanax and suddenly I was too busy examining the wallpaper and laughing at nothing.  Then I was led inside where they put numbing drops in my eyes and swung this big contraption over me.  The doctor put in some kind of plastic speculum  to hold my eyelids open and then he did something and everything went blurry.  I was told to stare at a blinking red light and that I would hear a loud ticking sound as the laser operated.  And that was it.  He spent a minute or two on each eye and I was in the room for less than ten minutes total.  Quick, easy, painless.

When I was upright again, I could see the clock on the wall with my naked eye, something I’d never been able to do.  Things were still a bit blurry and watery but they cleared up over time.  I kept my eyes closed on the ride home and went right to bed.  For the next ten days I did two sets of eyedrops three times a day, and wore eye covers at night.  The morning after procedure I removed  my eye covers and sat up in bed.  I could see the books on my shelf across the room.  I could even read the titles.

It was so amazing I nearly cried.  For those of you who already see for free, you have no idea what a miraculous transformation it was.  I could see!  I kept exclaiming that aloud over the next week, marveling at how I could read street signs and menu boards at fast food joints, how I could type on the computer or watch a movie unaided.  That wasn’t the only difference.  I’d never noticed how blue my eyes were until now, because I could never see them properly.  I couldn’t hold things close to my face anymore to read them, I had to hold them a foot or two away.

To top off, when my family and I went to the Chinese buffet to celebrate a few days later, I caught a girl looking at me.  She was working the front desk in the dance studio next door and our eyes met as I passed by the window.  Her expression was hard to decipher, but… was it possible?  Was this one actually checking me out?  Have others been checking me out?  Have I been missing things over the years because I literally couldn’t see them?  Now I find myself constantly looking about, taking in every details, looking for things I might have missed before.

Ditching the glasses gave me a nice confident boost.  I stand a bit taller now, comforted by the fact I don’t look like Harry Potter anymore.  In fact I went on a new string of dates to test things out, which I will update you about in the next post.  I don’t have to limit my screen exposure anymore, so it’s time to get back to writing.

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Hookup

Over the years I’ve read so many blog posts about it, but never did I think I would have a hookup of my own to write about.

It all started a couple of months ago.  My niece and I were talking about dating and swapping stories… hard to believe sometimes that she’s 21 now.   Even harder to believe she’s on Tinder.  She even pulled out her phone and swiped left and right through a bunch of guys.  Very, very interesting watching the process on the female side.  She showed me some of her conversations too.  Not to be outdone, I showed her screenshots of my old conversations.  She really got a kick out of them – so much so that I decided to go back on Bumble with a joke profile and collect more funny screenshots.

This went on for a couple of weeks when one day I got a message at 4AM:

“Hey Tommy, seems like you got low enough standards for my liking :)”

“And apparently we’re both night owls,” I wrote back.

“I think I should say that I have jet lag.  But the truth is…”

“You’re horny…?” I suggested.

“A bit.  Fancying some good old fashion missionary.  Ok… or maybe I will be on top for a little.”

Okay… this had to be a joke.  Someone read my profile and was clearly fucking with me in return.  I even suspected it was someone I knew in real life.  Plus she only had one picture, which is usually a red flag.  But we chatted until the sun rose, and during the day she sent me photos of herself in various states of undress.  After less than 24 hours of sexting and steamy conversation, I met her in a bar in Brooklyn.

#50

Right up until I walked through the door, I kept thinking it was too good to be true.  I half-expected to see one of my friends sitting there, although I doubted any of them would travel all that way just to play a prank.  And the more I talked to her online, the more confident I was that I wouldn’t end up meeting some 40yo hairy fat dude.  But sure enough, she was a real person, sitting right at the corner of the bar in blue jeans and a black top just like the said she would be.

Phew.  And wow.  She looked better in person than I imagined.  Except when I tapped her on the shoulder and said her name, she didn’t look entirely enthused to see me.  Uh oh.  I greeted her and told her I had to use the bathroom and I’d be right back.  After the long drive into the city I was fit to burst, and I went downstairs and pissed a bucket.   When I came back upstairs I wondered if she was going to give me the “you seem like a nice guy” speech and nix the rest of the evening.

She didn’t.  I ordered myself a drink and we took a seat in a booth away from the noise.  She had a beer of her own but didn’t seem very interested in it.  We made chit-chat about nothing in particular, and I was surprised to detect an English accent despite her being Chinese.  But she grew up in Hong Kong, and studied and worked in the UK, so apparently that was why.

After about 10-15 minutes I asked, “Do you want to get out of here?”  She did and we got up to leave.  I knew she had a hotel a block away, but I insisted on meeting somewhere neutral in public first.  As we walked outside I was waiting her to change her mind and wish me good night (as is my luck), but instead she hooked her arm around mine, eventually hugging it with both of hers.  Oh!  Looks like she was interested after all.  She warned me beforehand that – despite her online sluttiness – she was likely to be awkward and shy in person.

To be sure, as we walked down the sidewalk she kept stopping to stare at me with a weird grin.  I kept asking her “What…?” and she kept asking me why I was giving her weird looks.  Uh, because YOU are.  After the third time I turned and put my hands on her waist, and she continued looking up at me with that weird grin.  This seemed like the moment.  I moved my hands up to cup her face and went in for the kiss, but at the last second she turned her head and I got her on the cheek.

Oof.  More awkward.  She wrapped her arms around me and buried her face in my shoulder.  Okay.  What’s the deal?  Well,  apparently she doesn’t kiss on the lips.  Okay there, Pretty Woman.  I didn’t get much more out of her than that, although she later confessed that kissing doesn’t do anything for her.  I didn’t know that was possible, but there are all types I guess.  Maybe the other guys she’s been with were bad kissers? Who knows.  And before we resumed our walk back to the hotel, she blurted, “I might even like you as a person.”

pw
“I don’t kiss on the mouth.”

“Well, I’d hope that you’d like me as a person.  I’m not just a piece of meat, you know.”  She let out a loud giggle and quickened her step until we were almost race-walking.  We went right into the elevator and up to her room.  She swiped her card and in we went, with me in a bit of a daze.  This was totally surreal.  Was this really happening?  Never in my wildest fantasies did I imagine something like this could be a reality.  And from my ridiculous online dating profile!

She was still a bit awkward, which was making me awkward.  I’d vaguely pictured myself making out with her and slowly removing her clothes piece by piece.  That kind of foreplay is important in helping me determine what someone likes.  But with kissing off the table, there went one of the tools in my toolbox, and it was a bit of a buzzkill as well.  Plus when I looked up from taking my shoes off she was already pants-less.  Somebody was eager to start, apparently.

There was a bit of fumbling about and then we were lying on the bed, first side by side and then me on top of her.  There was more awkward fumbling about as I tried touching her lady parts, but couldn’t seem to get that right.  First she told me to be more gentle, but then she was pressing my hand into her indicating I should use more force.  Then she put one of my fingers inside her, but after a minute of that she wanted my fingers on the outside again.  Finally I hit pay dirt when I started sucking and kissing on her neck and tits.  All girls seem to like that, but she was practically orgasming from it.

We were a bit limited in what we could do.  In addition to no kissing, there was no oral either – for her or for me.  So that basically left condom-only P-in-V sex.  She couldn’t wait any longer and wanted my dick inside her, but she didn’t think she was wet enough.  After leaking pussy juice profusely for an entire day, she was running a bit dry.  But I put on a condom and she slathered lube everywhere, and then we started fucking.  Finally, an area I seem to excel at.  At least, I’ve never gotten any complaints in that department.

She got really wet before long, and it felt so good being inside her.  (Skyn condoms are great, btw).  I’d already jerked off twice that day looking at the pics she sent me, so I lasted a decent amount of time before I unloaded in her.  It was really intense.  I don’t remember it feeling that intense with my ex Rebecca, but it’s been so long that it’s hard to remember exactly.  She came too -and loudly – and it was funny because even though she sounded British she would cum in Chinese.   It was like I fucked her into another continent.

Afterwards we lay there for the longest time, just talking about stuff. She asked me a million questions, including, “Am I asking too many questions?”  She dropped a bomb about being divorced. She also claimed I’m the first person she’s had sex with in two and a half years.  Wow.  So she’s had a longer dry spell than I’ve had.  Who would’ve thought?

All the while we played with each other’s hands, stroked each other’s arms, and touched each other all over. I gave her a back and shoulder massage because I love doing that.  The entire time I did my best to relish every moment, telling myself that it might be a long time before I get to touch anyone like that again. Sure enough, I remember thinking that exact thing when I was with my ex, and then two years went by.

Eventually she started jerking me off, but it wasn’t doing anything for me. She didn’t have the right touch, even after I gave her some instruction. Then she was telling me to cum even though I was nowhere close, and her telling me that had the opposite effect.  It’s like when the doctor asks you to pee in a cup, and the more you try the more you can do it.  Then you start feeling pressure, and in this case I was starting to go soft.  She noticed and started making efforts to get me hard again, which also had the opposite effect.

Shit.  I went back to work on her neck and chest and soon I was almost rock hard again.  We had sex a second time, we both came again (her at least twice) and we managed to snag a couple hours of sleep before morning.  We tried some other positions but they weren’t really comfortable for either of us, so it was mostly missionary. There was one more round of equally satisfying sex before I had to hit the road.  It felt a bit weird waking up in the city, and I drove home in a bit of a daze.  That might have been more due to exhaustion, as I had to pull over and take a nap for an hour in order to make it the rest of the way.

I didn’t jerk off for the rest of the week.  We were meeting for Round 2 the following weekend, and I wanted to save up an especially big load for her.  This time I met her right at the hotel.  She left a key at the front desk for me so I went upstairs and let myself in.

She was waiting in bed in a black lace negligee.  “John McCain died,” were her first words to me as I entered the room.  Wow, you really know how to turn a guy on.  But I did enter a celebrity death pool at the beginning of the year and he was on my list, so he earned me 24 points.  Yay for that, at least.

We got down to business right away.  I was more than ready for her.  I attacked her neck and chest and played with her pussy.  “How did you get so much better at this in only a week?” she gasped.  Easy – I simply remembered what she liked and didn’t like from last time.

Things went a lot smoother this time, and there was no need for lube whatsoever.  She was positively dripping downstairs.  She wasn’t kidding about that. I’d never seen anyone get wet like that – not that I have much experience to judge, though.

Finally she couldn’t take it anymore.  “Get a condom,” she gasped.  I did, and ten minutes later I filled that bad boy to near bursting after not jerking off for an entire week.  But truth be told, I didn’t need to jerk off.   After the previous weekend I found myself feeling fully sated and satisfied.  I didn’t need to look at porn or anything.  However, I was ready and raring to go now.  She came many times, and after the third round of sex she took the baby oil I brought with me and dumped it everywhere.  She proceeded to massage my body with hers.  It was amazing, and she ended by jerking me off until I spurted a fourth time. Practically repainted the ceiling.

She wanted to keep going.  Unfortunately, the spirit was willing but the flesh was weak.  I was surprised and disappointed I couldn’t go more than four times.  Apparently sex is more intense and draining than regular ol’ masturbating.  We’d also been at it for five hours by that point.  And we were getting pretty hungry, so we got dressed and headed out to the diner.  She watched in amazement as I downed a plate of pancakes, a bowl of home fries, ham and eggs, and a bagel.  Apparently sex also whips up quite the appetite.

We held hands on the way there and back, which was really nice.  Honestly, I was almost as happy holding hands as I was to have sex again.  I miss that kind of touch and intimacy. We learned more about each other as we walked and talked, and I also learned that a lot of people leave books outside their homes in Brooklyn.  Apparently this is a thing they do there.  I suppose it’s a take-a-book, leave-a-book kind of thing.  Heh – maybe they should call it Booklyn.

We got frisky when we were back at the hotel again.  I was ready to go a fifth time, but exhaustion overpowered us and we fell asleep.  We did have one last glorious round of sex in the morning.  I woke up with her hands on my penis.  In fact, she could barely keep her hands off it all night – even on the way back from the diner.  She said she couldn’t resist squeezing it and that I had a really nice one.  Why thank you.  I think it’s rather swell too, if I may so myself.

And thus ends the best two weekends I’ve had in a long time, and certainly among the best ones I’ve ever had.  She was only in town for ten days and we made the most of her time here.  Now she’s back home.  There’s a possibility she may return in the future, but when that will be I have no idea.  In any case, my scratch has been itched and I’m feeling exceptional nowadays.

Reproduction

childfree

I do not want kids.  Not now, not ever.  Nor do I want to deal with anyone else’s kids.  Even if I liked kids, I couldn’t rationalize a single reason for having them – between the emotional and financial burden and the possibility of a Mad Max-like dystopian future.

Some people feel that children give their life meaning, but I do not feel my life is meaningless without them.  And I do not feel for one second that I’m missing out on anything.  I see other people with kids and all I can think is: “Thank god that’s not me.”

This provokes a variety of reactions, ranging from confusion to consternation.  And I’m a man.  I can only imagine what childfree women have to deal with.  I’m especially amused by people who accuse me of being selfish.  Okay, so… what’s the problem?  Shouldn’t you be glad I’m not having kids then?  Do you want me to be a shitty parent with an unwanted child?  It’s not like we don’t have enough of those already.

Speaking of parents, people like my dad think it’s my religious duty to have offspring.  Of course he would think that.  Thanks to him, I spent my formative years picketing and praying outside abortion clinics, absorbing rocks and bottles and insults from passersby.   Sorry, but slavish devotion to religious dogma is not going to work as a reason for me either.  I gave up religion a long time ago and couldn’t give two flips about “be fruitful and multiply.”

Others wink at me and go, “Well, you say that now, but just wait until you meet the right person.”  Huh?  How does the “right person” suddenly make me like or want kids?  And if she wanst kids, then how is she the right person?  Which brings me to dating.  I’ve been adamant about not wanting kids over the course of this blog.  What I had been less certain about was when and whether to disclose it during the dating process.

Part of me thought that honesty was the best policy.  The rest of me thought that was an exceptionally bad idea.  I was already having horrible luck with women; shooting myself in the foot wouldn’t help.  But I also didn’t think it was fair to lead anyone on or waste their time. I didn’t have the heart to lie, even though some encouraged me to do just that.  The first time it came up on a date, I was honest and it tanked the rest of the evening.  After that I did my best to waffle or avoid the subject altogether.

That was pre-virginity loss.  Now with that out of the way, and plenty of dating experience under my belt, I have less fucks to give.  My luck with women may have marginally improved since then, but I care a lot less about the results.  Now I don’t hesitate to say, “I don’t want kids.”  I’m not going to hide anything.  If they don’t like that, then too bad.  We’re simply incompatible for the long-term.  However, I’d still be consider a fling.

Speaking of flings – you may remember there were a couple of girls I was eyeballing as potentials.  I mentioned them in previous posts.  Long story short, I lost interest and moved on.  I figured that was that and things would remain as they were.  But then things changed in a way I never expected or thought possible.  I met someone, and have an exciting new story to tell.

More on that next…

Fish

I had the best Fourth of July in a long time.  My sister’s boyfriend has a place at the beach and we went there for a barbecue.  There was a professional fireworks show at dusk, but the neighbors up and down the beach lit huge bonfires and set off their own fireworks.  It was like being at a tennis match; I didn’t know which way to look.

Actually I knew which way I wanted to look.  It was everything I could do to not stare at the brunette beauty by my side.  My cousin (whom I’ve been arguing with on Facebook about Trump and North Korea) is dating this chick, and this chick has a daughter.  Well, the daughter and her friends unexpectedly showed up at the party.  Turns out she’s close with my sister’s boyfriend’s family.  Talk about a small world.  Maybe it’s fate.

She and her friend and her friend’s boyfriend spread a blanket out on the sand when the fireworks started.  I brought down a plastic lawn chair from the deck for myself but she said, “You can sit with us if you want, there’s room right here.”  She patted the spot on the blanket next to her.  Well, I took that chair and Frisbeed that shit into the sand dunes.  I don’t shy away from opportunities anymore.

Her friends cuddled and canoodled in front of us, and I was seized with a strange urge to put my arm around her.  It almost felt like we were two couples on a double date.   I hadn’t seen her in a long time and she is quite a knockout.  But I kept my composure.  Stay cool, don’t say or do any dumb shit…  I just leaned back on my hands, and as soon as I did another crazy thought entered my head:  How much do you wanna bet she touches my hand?  I waited in that pose to see if my hunch was correct.

Sure enough, a few minutes later it happened.  She shifted her weight on the blanket and put her hand down right on top on mine for a moment. “Oh, sorry,” she said.  “That’s okay,” I grinned to myself in the darkness, wondering if that was an accident-on-purpose or what.  And now my brain was going into overdrive.  Would she or could she be interested in me?  We’re potentially step-cousins, or something.  I might not just get friend-zoned but family-zoned.  There’s also an age difference (which doesn’t bother me).

Still, I chatted with her trying to feel things out, until my sister came along and interrupted and wrecked my flow.  Thanks a lot.  We rubbed shoulders a couple more times that night.  Afterwards we started following each other on social media.  I’d like to get another conversation going but she’s rarely online.  A bit unusual for someone her age.  Damn.  This girl is intriguing.

***

In other news, the pool party is a no-go.  First she canceled the event, citing the expense and stress of planning.  Then her boyfriend gallantly stepped in to host a party for her instead.  That was canceled too.  Why?  Because she dumped him.  Apparently she told him she wanted to get into shape and he said he might not find that attractive.   Uh… okay.  Sounds strange to me, but whatever.  And I know this because she broadcasts all her relationship drama on Facebook.

She goes through this cycle every few weeks:  She finds a guy, falls in love, it goes to shit, she rants about how men suck and “can’t handle strong independent women,” and then repeats.  I’ve seen quite a few women make that claim.  While I’m sure it’s true in some cases, it’s more likely it’s a confrontational or bitchy attitude that sends men running.  She does have a tendency to turn everything into a fight, and I know one of her exes told her so.

While I’m on the subject, I ran into a spot of bother with the girl who cuts my hair.  I’ve had her as my stylist three times in a row now.  I like the familiarity, and it turns out we went to the same high school.  I couldn’t find her in my yearbook (would have helped if she remembered what year she graduated – how do you forget that?), so this time I asked what her last name was.  When she told me I suddenly realized: “Oh, you’re Deborah’s sister!” I exclaimed.

She put her hands on her hips and gave me a look.  “Okay, first of all, I have a name.  It’s Mandy, it’s not ‘Deborah’s sister,'” she said.  I just stared back at her in the mirror. Didn’t seem like she was trying to be funny.  I said nothing, partly because I was trying to figure out if I was somehow being an asshole, and partly because I didn’t want to get a shitty haircut.

My brothers are well-known in certain music circles, and when people find out I’m related they go, “Oh, you’re Johnny/Patrick’s brother!”  I just say “yeah” and that’s that.  I don’t get all snooty about it.  I dunno, maybe she’s another “strong, independent woman” like my friend.  I know they’re both single moms.  And I don’t mean anything bad by that.  It’s just that there are single moms, and then there are SINGLE MOMS.

Which reminds me, I promised a post on the subject of having kids.  That’s still coming up next, I just got a little sidetracked.

Social

As I said in my last post, I feel loads better after deleting the dating apps.  Now that work has calmed down and I have more free time, I’ve been getting out and about again.  After years of saying I would, I finally got back on the open mic circuit.  It’s so good to be out performing again.  All my practice in the meantime definitely paid off.  I received plenty of compliments afterwards and one of the girls at the bar started chatting me up.  She told me I “fucking rocked it” and we talked for a while.

It’s amazing how much easier it is when you can just be yourself and not worry about impressing or attracting anyone.  However I was more interested in the brunette behind her, but she only had eyes for the guitar player onstage.  But I struck up conversations with a few others too.  See, that’s how you do it.  Just get out there and meet people and let things happen naturally.  That’s why Meetup is great too – bonding over common interests.  I recently signed up for a full moon paddle, but unfortunately it was canceled due to the weather.

My next stop was the latest monthly jam session, hosted by the band I’m hoping to join.  Another good social (and musical) opportunity, but no persons of interest.  No matter.  I’ve been working on learning their material, of which there is a lot. I’m making progress.  And not only has worked calmed down, but I actually dropped customers as well to reduce my workload.  I’m actually working less than full-time right now. I’m loving it, and it’s giving me space to consider other things… like a career change.

I can’t help feeling I’m wasting my talents with my current job, but the pay is good and it has benefits I won’t find anywhere else.  I have some vague ideas about what I’d like to do next, but music is certainly top of the list.  I recently went to the music store to invest in some more equipment, and I struck up a conversation with another girl while I was there.  She worked behind the counter and there was nobody else in the shop, and we talked for 10-15 minutes.  Pretty cute.  I Facebooked her as soon as I got home, and she has a boyfriend.  Of course.

No matter.  There’ll be other opportunity, and I have a whopper coming up in a couple of weeks.  One my friends invited me to a pool party at her house for her 30th birthday.  A pool party.  I can’t remember the last time I was at a pool party.  But the guest list has a 3:1 female-to-male ratio.  I’ve been busting my ass in the gym lately, and this is just the extra motivation I needed.  A lot of those females are single moms like my friend, but there will be childless single ladies in attendance too.  Sounds like prime hunting ground…

kids – next post

Meh

Okay, I did it.  I went back to online dating.  Four weeks, three apps and two dates later, I called it quits.  It was the same nonsense all over again.  There’s been no change in my experiences with – or opinion of – online dating.  It works for some people, but apparently I’m not one of them.  And I have neither the energy nor the desire to continue with it.  So I’ve kicked it to the curb again, and feel loads better as a result.

Here’s how it all went down this time.

I haven’t been on OkCupid for years.  Back in the day it was the source of most of my online dates.  Well, they’ve made changes and not for the better.  You can still message anyone, but they can’t see your message unless they “like” you back.  And the number of users has dropped precipitously.  Last time there was an endless supply of matches.  This time I exhausted all possibilities within a few days.  I collected 35 likes but only one was mutual.  Her profile didn’t give me much to work with, and this was our exchange:

Did we date once?  Did we talk once?  Was she trying to be funny?  We certainly didn’t fuck, I know that much.  But I never heard from her after that, so it will forever be a mystery.  Two more weeks went by without any new matches or messages. All I had to show for my efforts was that head-scratching conversation.

*delete account*

Next up was Tinder.  I never had much luck with it in the past and it was the same this time around.  Little activity, lack of conversation, flakiness, suspiciously fake-looking profiles… Meanwhile I had over 50 matches on Bumble and a slew of conversations going.  Goodbye, Tinder.  I burned through many of my Bumble matches, not hesitating to unmatch with those who failed to impress.  I was most popular with 28-35 year-olds and it didn’t take long to line up two back-to-back dates.

#47
She was 35 and a police officer.  Only a couple years older than myself but seemed more mature than that. Byproduct of her job, perhaps.  We met at a sports bar for dinner and drinks and quickly settled into nice, easy conversation punctuated by a number of laughs.  We seemed to be enjoying each other’s company.  Midway through she casually mentioned she was recently divorced.  This is the second or third time that’s happened on a date.

*theme from Jaws starts playing softly in the background*

jaws

Yeah, I’m starting to encounter this.  Well, she didn’t mention having kids, so I guess it wasn’t as big a deal.  Although, that’s something else I’ve been running into.  There’s a number of single moms out there who don’t disclose they’re single moms until they think it’s safe.  That happened several times during my latest stint on Bumble.  Sorry, but your personality is not going to overcome my dislike of kids.  Best to be upfront about it and not waste either of our time.

But I digress.  We stayed there for an hour and a half, and then I suggested going across the street for brews and board games.  It was a really cool spot and a popular hangout for people in our demographic.  She enthusiastically agreed, but in between getting up from the table and reaching the exit she changed her mind, saying it was late and she ought to be going.  I walked her to the parking lot and hugged her good night.  She texted me the next day and we went back and forth a little, but eventually things dropped off and that was that.


#48
This one was cute as hell – and she confided that she thought I was too – so I was pretty excited to meet her.  We met at a cheesecake place near my house and I liked what I saw.  She seemed a little more my speed, but the more we talked the more she appeared to be a homebody.  Nothing much in the way of hobbies or activities either.  Hmm.  I wasn’t sure what I could do with her, although certain extra-curricular activities came to mind as I eyed her up and down.  We called it a night after a couple of hours.  The next day I invited her to see a band play at a brewery but she politely declined, claiming other commitments.  Then she unmatched with me.


#49…?
I wouldn’t really count this as a date.  It was hardly even a meeting.  I was suspicious from the start, since her Bumble profile was nothing but pics of her performing and links to her music website and YouTube videos.  We talked music and she said I should come see her play at a bar that Saturday.  I did, but when I got there I saw that I wasn’t the only one she invited out.  I barely got to speak to her either.  My hunch appeared to be correct.  She was using Bumble to promote herself and her gigs.  Not the first time I’ve run into that either.  I’ve seen bartenders do the same.

I had two other hot prospects after that.  I really wanted to meet them both, but for reasons unknown they suddenly stopped talking to me.  One of them asked if I had an Instagram, which I thought was a little odd, then went quiet after I supplied my handle.  I didn’t post anything untoward on there, so I don’t know what happened.  The other unmatched with me after a few days of silence.

Eventually I ran out of Bumble matches, and I deleted the app a short while later.  So I got that out of my system.  I’m sure this is the point where my readers are going to suggest Match or Zoosk or Hinge or Coffee Meets Bagel or Duck Meets Goose or Nut Meets Bolt, or some other dating app.  Not interested.  I’m just going to do like my friend told me:  “Don’t date.  Just go out and meet people.”  Which is exactly what I’ve been doing, and it’s already bearing some fruit.  More on that in the next post…

Itchy

I haven’t been on a date in months and I’m feeling the itch again. Not to mention it’s almost two years since I’ve gotten any action, so I’m getting antsy there as well. I chuckle when I read some bloggers griping about going a few days or a couple of weeks without sex. Oh?  Do tell.

Dating has been on the back burner this year. I’ve been focused on other things, and now I’m back at work so that’s consuming a lot of time. There were a few outings and social gatherings but I haven’t met anyone that way. I’ve yet to go back on Meetup, but I’ve also been considering giving online dating another go.

Yes, I know. I’ve sworn it off a million times and keep talking shit about it. But part of me wants to keep at it until I succeed. Others have, so why can’t I? If nothing else, it’s a good way to keep my skills sharp. When I met Rebecca (the old-fashioned way) I felt like I was applying everything I learned from all my online dates. So I guess it wouldn’t be a total waste of time.

If nothing else, it’ll give me stuff to blog about. But the thought of making a new profile, finding matches, wading through all the nonsense again… I don’t know if I can do it. We’ll see. If I do go that route, I think this time would be different. I feel like I’m a good place.

Stay tuned.