Well.  That was interesting.  And unexpected.  An hour before our last dance practice, Dancer Chick messaged me and another girl in the class to see if we wanted to go out for drinks afterwards.

Hell yeah.  The best times are always spontaneous and unplanned.

The end of class arrived, and it looked like it was just going to be me and DC, but Teacher decided to join us.  We walked to a bar two doors down and nabbed one of the last free tables.  DC sat on one side, and I made sure to sit next to Teacher on the other. The conversation was flowing, I had beers #2 and #3, and our drinking led to drinking games.  A lot of interesting facts came to light.

As it turns out.. I was wrong.  And I was right.  Teacher IS single, like I had initially thought.  I did mishear things after all.  I also found out why she broke up with her boyfriend, and this is the best part: He wanted marriage and kids, and she doesn’t want either.  Score!

Holy shit, this is awesome.  I never expected she’d be on the same page as me.  Naturally, I took the opportunity to casually mention I wasn’t interested in marriage or kids either.  Teacher didn’t say anything, but I knew she was listening to every word.  But DC was really surprised to hear that, and I had no problem telling her all about it since I didn’t give a fuck what she thought.  If you remember, she’d pretty much already told me she wasn’t interested, and I’d lost interest as well.


Teacher rubbed my back at one point during the evening, and later when I got up to go to the bathroom I put my hand on her leg as I was getting out of my chair.  Too bad the table wasn’t bugged, as I would have given anything to know whether the two girls were talking about me while I was inside peeing buckets.

We stayed for another half-hour before calling it a night.  Teacher walked us back to the studio so she could let me and DC out the back door, since we’d parked in the rear lot.  DC went out first, and Teacher was standing there grinning at me and holding the door open. I thought I was just going to get a “good night” from her like I usually do, but when I got close she came up and gave me a hug and I gave her a kiss on the cheek (my turn, this time). I also ran my hand up and down her back just once before I disengaged.  Once again, nothing aggressive, just the briefest of non-offensive touches, but hopefully enough to drop a hint without being too obvious.

And that was that.  Overall I was very pleased with myself.  I didn’t blurt any dumb shit, or do anything that I’m now kicking myself over. I still worry that I might have been friend zoned, but I think if I can maintain a light level of flirting and stay distant otherwise, then I can very pull this off.

In fact, I’d already started taking that approach during our previous class – the distancing, anyway.  I was simply present without really saying much to her. And suddenly she had a few compliments for me – telling me how good I looked, mentioning that she was telling people about me…  Oh?  Talking to people about me?  I’m very curious to know what that’s about.  She also took hold of my arms to move me into position (since we were dancing in formation), and then she touched me on the arm again as I was leaving that night.

Meanwhile, she’s booked us a gig dancing at a local bar the Friday after next.  And bar = more drinking and flirting.  I’m feeling pretty confident – I know I can do this!  Otherwise the gods are just dangling the biggest carrot in the universe in front of me.  She likes the same music and dance, she doesn’t want marriage or kids, she’s offensive and vulgar and uses foul language… I mean, what’s not to like?


On another note, DC has pissed me off.  Back when I was having my first drink, she pulled out her phone to take a picture to document the moment.  “I’ll send it to you on Facebook!” she said.  I just shrugged and said okay. I didn’t ask; she volunteered.  But a month went by and I never got it.  During one of our Facebook chats I said, “oh btw – didn’t you take pictures from that night we all went out?”  No response.  Then another month went by and we were all hanging around after class and the subject of pictures came up.  I took the opportunity to turn to DC and go, “Hey, you never sent me those pics, did you?”  She laughed and said she would.  And I’m still waiting.   Those are the only two times I’ve mentioned to her, and I’m certainly not going to ask her again.   But what’s up with that?  I’m convinced that she has the pics but isn’t sending them to me for some reason.   JBlondie suggested that maybe she’s jealous… what do you think?


My dance group recently hosted a post-holiday get together.  This is not the group with Dancer Chick and Teacher.  In that group we’re all roughly the same age.  This is the other group, where I’m the youngest by at least 15 years.

And I’m the only guy.

That did not bode well for the party.

Have you ever been to parties hosted by and attended primarily by women?  Holy crap.  They’re horrible because they don’t have any food.  I mean, they have food… if you like munching on carrot sticks and salad and potato-lentil twists (whatever the hell those are) for four hours.   When guys throw a party, they have the four basic food groups – beer, soda, chips, burgers.  Women have parties like Jenny Craig meetings.  Everything is fat free, sugar free, salt free, gluten free, flavor free…  The drinks are all diet and they taste like piss.   And the only thing is worse is when you go to one of these parties and everything is vegan.  GTFO with that shit.  I need heaping plates of meat and potatoes, brimming with chemicals and trans fats – just the way God intended.  I ain’t got no time for calorie counting or healthy eating.Before I went to the party, I decided to stop at the store and pick up some snacks and drinks.  My mother always taught me never to go to someone’s house empty-handed.  And if nothing else, at least there would be stuff there that I would enjoy eating.  But the store was an absolute zoo.  Took me five minutes just to get into the parking lot, and once I was inside there were lines at every single register that stretched halfway to the back of the store.  What in the blue fuck was going on?

Then I overheard snatches of conversation – apparently the few inches of snow that were initially forecast to hit had ballooned into a “historic” blizzard.  Oh, really, another one?  We get so many of these “historic” blizzards that I’m starting to lose track.  Where I live in New York, everyone has an SUV and lives a half-mile from a 7-11.  Yet every time there is snow in the forecast, people stock up like we’re going to be stranded for weeks without food or water.  Morons.

So it was especially frustrating standing on line due to all the nonsense.  I wish they had a checkout lane just for single guys, because we race around the supermarket like we’re on an episode of Shop ‘Til You Drop.  I could fill two entire shopping carts in the time it takes my mother or any one of my sisters to pick out six things.  They have to juggle the fruit, hold it up to the light, squeeze it, smell it, and examine it from every angle.  They park themselves in front of the meat and stare at it for ten minutes like it’s an art exhibit, after which they finally narrow it down to two packages of pork chops like finalists on American Idol.   Oh, and of course they have the check the dates and ingredients on every single thing.  Guys don’t care about any of that.   Food looks funny?  Expired two weeks ago?  Includes fragments of small children?  Whatever.  BAM!  In the cart and onto the next item on the list.

But I digress.

The women were happy to see me when I finally arrived, but no one happier than Lizzy.  I’m pretty sure she’s got the hots for me. She lights up whenever she sees me, and she always makes time to talk to me.  If I’m standing close to her she’ll rub my back or hold onto my arm or touch me in some way.  And lately she’s been asking whether I want to carpool to dance practice.  Not to mention that she’s always making jokes to the effect of, “oh, if only I was 20 years younger!”

Because she’s like 47.

That’s what’s giving me pause.  She’s also divorced, but on the other hand she doesn’t have any kids, so that’s a plus. And if she were indeed 20 years younger I’d be all over that without hesitation. But lately I’ve been considering making a move.  Every time I see her now I’m checking her out and appraising her possibilities.  She looks pretty good, and she’s awfully nice and sweet and pleasant to be around.   I don’t know… what do you all think?  Should I go for it?  I’m pretty sure I could pull it off if I did.


In other news, I’d nearly forgotten about my FWB profile experiment on OkCupid until some girl sent me a message:

“Hi, how are you doing 😊?”

Sigh.  Any profile I’ve ever written, I’ve always ensured it provides plenty of fodder for conversation.  So I hate it when girls send messages like this.  I checked her profile out of curiosity.  She was a single mother and she was looking for a “SERIOUS RELATIONSHIP ONLY, NO HOOKUPS” (emphasis hers).  So what the heck did she want with me?

“Well hello there,” I wrote back.  “I read your profile, and I daresay I don’t seem to be quite what you’re looking for…?”

The response was swift and furious:  “Ok then. You shouldn’t of even responded. Bye.”

“Well I’m on here looking for a casual, sex-based relationship. You’re looking for something serious and someone to have a family with. Sorry, but I thought that was worth pointing out,” I said.

Her:  “Ok go get stds from casual sex and stop messaging me.”

Me:  “If that’s how you feel, why did you message me in the first place? Didn’t you read my profile?”

Her:  “It doesn’t say you just want to have random sex with strangers. So again. Good bye!”

Me:  “That’s because I’m not looking for ‘random sex with strangers,’ just a casual relationship with one person, like a fwb situation. Bit of a difference. Anyhoo – thanks for stopping by!”

Her: “Omg I said stop messaging me!”

Me:  “Okay”


I could have easily kept this exchange going, but I decided I was already amused enough.  But man, some people really go from 0 to 60 faster than anything, don’t they?  In any case I certainly dodged a bullet if she’s that touchy.


I’ve neglected to mention this, but I created a profile on FetLife a couple of months ago.  Partly out of curiosity, and partly because I have some interests on the kinkier side.  This shouldn’t surprise some of you, as I’ve alluded to it before along with my bedside drawer of paraphernalia that I hope to employ someday.  But as one of my fellow bloggers reminded me, “Baby steps, Tommy, baby steps…  You gotta learn to fuck before you learn to freak,” she said.  Words of wisdom, indeed.

Anyway, I also thought there might be a chance of finding a girl with a virgin fetish.  Hey, anything’s possible.  Unfortunately, there are a thousand other virgin dudes on the site, apparently all with the same idea.  So this looks like a non-starter.  Not to mention that most of the girls I check out on FetLife are already in relationships or are somebody’s “slave” or “property” and aren’t looking to meet anyone anymore.  They’re just on the site to “talk to new people” or “look around.”  Oh, screw you.

So I’m pretty much done with the online scene for the time being.  I’d much rather meet someone organically and I still feel that’s the best way to do it. And after a while you start feeling like most people who are online dating are on there for a reason.  In fact, most of the girls I’ve been on dates with are still pining away on OKC.