Tag: dating app

Let me tell ya ’bout my best friend…

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Somewhere in the middle of me discovering that I hated the living shit out of my husband, I started to realize my attraction to my best guy friend was getting stronger. Whenever the weekend came around, I would hang out with my best friend and her husband and his best friend. My husband and I had opposite schedules so he was never involved in any of our activities. Also, no one really liked hanging out with him, including myself, because he was so awkward and negative and could bore the hell right out of you. If my husband was to come around for whatever reason, I dreaded it but, when I thought about hanging out with my best guy friend, I would look forward to it. Once I realized this, the “D-word” was on my mind like crazy. Okay, two D-words: divorce and dick. My husband and I stopped having any kind of sex when the Cubs were still lovable losers and our president was black instead of orange. A girl needed the “D” in a bad way.

Once I finally did the deed and told my husband we should separate, my friends and coworkers were cheering me on for the weekend because with divorce shit started, dick was the next step for my well-being and I made it clear to all of them that I knew which one I wanted. My “best” guy friend and I texted all day, every day for months prior, whether it was private texts between the two of us or group texts with us and my best friend and her husband. Most everything was platonic before I told my husband I was ready to leave. He and I had drunkenly kissed twice and drunkenly made our attraction known a couple times as well but most of our conversations were on the friendship level.

The day I left my husband and he put me in the hospital though, I should have taken the cues from this guy and stayed away from him immediately. I texted him before, during and after the violent madness and after I left the hospital, I didn’t hear from him. I texted him hours later, after moving some of my belongings and my dogs out of the apartment I shared with my husband. I said something along the lines of, “Well, I fucking survived, in case you were wondering.” He made some flimsy excuse for why he didn’t call or text or show any concern at all, and I accepted it and still wanted to bone him that weekend.

With my girl friends as cheerleaders, I easily forgot about the violent rage the Sunday before with my soon-to-be ex-husband, and I quickly moved in to a new apartment and ordered furniture, excited for the upcoming weekend ridiculousness. I literally had friends congratulating me for potentially getting laid that Saturday. I felt like I was the entire 2016 Cubs team, about to win the World Series. It had been over a hundred years for them and myself! This was huge. I was so geeked out I could explode. I was hoping I did exactly that on the weekend. At this point, five whole fucking months had gone by that I slept next to a man who avoided touching me in any way so I was feeling very much like my 17 year old virgin self all over again.

Saturday came and I obviously hung out with my best guy friend. At this point I cannot remember the details. I can’t tell you where we went or who we were with. That honestly doesn’t matter anyway, does it? At the end of the night, we did what we aimed to do. I was at his place. He touched me. He kissed me. He paid attention to me. It had been so long since anyone had done any of those things that nothing was going to stop the things that happened next.

Needless to say, if you know me at all, the weekend consisted of intense drinking. The details on the night are obviously weak, with that fact, and the fact that it’s been months since this all happened. All I do know is that I woke up at his place, not wearing clothes, remembering that we definitely had sex but my body felt like it might not have happened.  After 5 months of no sex with your husband, you’d think you might feel SOMETHING after a night like this, but, nope. I still felt like a virgin. Tight as a Chinese finger trap over here. All of my friends were quite disappointed upon hearing the news, and I was too. All the build-up. All these months of no affection. All this flirtation with my friend. The next day felt like nothing happened.

I told myself that it was because I was drunk, and it couldn’t possibly have to do with the fact that he was hiding a dick the size of a baby carrot in his jeans. My friend was widely known as a player in our friend group. He had a new girl every week but all of our friends swore he wouldn’t dispose of me the same way he disposed of these other girls. We had a real connection and strong friendship and we all believed he couldn’t possibly jeopardize or ruin that. I was wrong. We were all wrong.

The next weekend I tried again. The cheers and encouragement from friends for my potential Saturday sexing were loud and proud. I prepped myself as any girl would and made sure to pace myself with drinks and eat at least 400 calories of food that day so I could fully remember the main event but also look skinny enough that I would still look good naked. Here we go. Again. When we were sufficiently buzzed, we headed back to his place. His friend was staying over too. He lived in what was basically a large studio apartment. No walls. No doors. His friend, Dusty, was sleeping 5 feet away from us but that was NOT going to stop me from reaching my goal for the night.

The night went exactly how it went the week before. I finally realized I felt nothing because there was…nothing. He was packing as much as a male chihuahua puppy down there. HUGE disappointment. Still, if I could endure a sexless marriage for a long period of time, I could work with baby wiener and show him how to work it. I was confident. I was sure. I was motivated. He was over it.

Despite everyone we knew thinking that we had such a strong connection and friendship that nothing could shake it, he immediately became weird and distant. Daily messages ceased and things became awkward between us. I felt that I was irritating him by talking to him the same way I had for the past couple years. Normally he would joke with me back and forth but now I’d barely get replies. Not being afraid of confrontation or initiating communication, I called him out on his strange behavior.

I was basically told that he wanted to be friends and he did want to sleep with me but that was it. He did not see himself dating me in any way, so that was that. It was done. Here I am, willing to work with a baby carrot penis but he’s not willing to date me. Was he really pinkie-sized in the penile department or did I have a gigantic, cavernous vagina? Hmmm….

Now, I must admit, I was more emotionally fucked in the head over this than I was over the physical abuse and separation from my husband. I was emotionally detached from that situation before it even started I think. This relationship though, was one I was emotionally very invested in. I immediately knew this would change the dynamic of our friendship with his best friend and my best friend. We would never hang out the way we had before. He would go from being a big part of my life to nothing. It’s usually surprisingly easy for me to eliminate people from my life. Although, in the two weeks prior, my life had already turned upside down, this was a whole new level.

Looking back on all this now, I clearly see that I was absolutely not “dateable” as a good friend put it. I laughed at her and said she was insane because I swore I was in my right mind. I know now that at that time I probably needed constant psychological therapy, as I was most positively out of my mother fucking mind with the stress of everything I was going through. Throughout my life though, it’s been a roller coaster with the most insane situations so trauma and drama and chaos are things I feel comfortable in, whether they are healthy or not. Something is wrong though, with a grown man who knowingly takes advantage of a woman who just experienced the most traumatic incident of her life. He knew I was in a bad marriage and was nearly murdered by my husband. He knew acting on his physical desires would destroy friendships. He knew how he felt and what he was doing to me were wrong and he did it all anyway.

Throughout the few weeks and months afterward, I had gotten over my baby carrot penis “best” friend. We stopped talking and spending time together immediately. I started going on dates with every loser on Tinder and Bumble. When you want to get over someone, just get under someone else, right? I have seen him on occasion with our mutual friends and things are fine. It’s likely they won’t be so fine after I post this but these days, I have zero fucks to give. The truth and only the truth forever. Welcome to 2018.

Introduction to “breadcrumbing”

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How do you know when you’re in an exclusive relationship and should stop going on shit dates with other guys? Do you really have to have the conversation or pass the note like in 8th grade? ” Do you like me? Circle one: Yes or No.” Or, do you just know? What if you’ve been seeing someone for over four months and are still clueless about what’s going on? One week you talk daily and see each other once or twice. The next week you barely hear from the guy and all of a sudden you haven’t seen each other in weeks. At what point do you just say, “Fuck it,” and forget about him? It’s hard when the times you’re actually together are so awesome. Not a wild, intense, passionate time, but fun and comfortable and exciting. If you have to ask, “what are we” or “where is this going”, the answers are, “nothing” and “nowhere.”

It took me almost five months to realize things were going nowhere with the guy I was “dating”. If you’re that into him or he’s that into you, there should be no question. You shouldn’t have to practically beg for this person to come see you on a Saturday night. If it is a good thing, you’d have plans already and it would not be an impromptu meeting with his friends and yours. If you have to contact him first or invite him anywhere, he’s not feeling it. He’s more into himself and his friends than he is to you. Sorry to say it. Sorry you have to read it here first. Sorry I experienced it and let it go on so long when I knew all along that all my friends were right and I was holding on to an illusion. It’s awkward and embarrassing when you realize it. It fucking sucks actually.

Sometimes though, you just create a scenario in your own head. You think things are going well.  You think you might be great partners. You talk yourself into liking him because of a lot of factors but you don’t stop and think about all the things wrong with the “relationship”. You ignore your friends who don’t like him because “they don’t understand your relationship” with him. You found something fun and good at first but over the next few months they deteriorate because he got what he wanted and he’s over it. He temporarily put on a front to get you and then he got bored. You sit and dwell on the beginning and make excuses for what’s happening now. You don’t want to see it because you’ve painted a masterpiece in your head and it won’t change. I can’t even be mad. I’ve done it a ton of times to people. You try them on and realize they don’t fit and rather than admit that to them, you let it drag on and grow distant. That’s what he did to me.

Unfortunately, no one else saw this masterpiece you painted. Not even the person you created it for. It was never real. You never put the paint to the canvas. It was all just an idea. No truth. Never actually happened and it never actually will. You got fucking breadcrumbed for months. Don’t know what that is? Google that shit. We’ll talk about it later in further detail another time.

Is it necessarily your fault for falling into this head first? I don’t think so. People, as grown adults at this point, should have no problem talking one on one to say how they feel, I think. Unfortunately, That’s not how it is. It’s rare to find someone open and honest and upfront. You have to play games and beg and pry for information on their thoughts and feelings oftentimes. Even then, you don’t always get answers. Grown ups are like little clams or turtles who close up when you try and get them to open up. Children behave more the way you’d expect adults to be with their feelings. They hide nothing. They hold nothing back. I’m no longer looking for guys in their late 30’s or early 40’s. My next boyfriend will be an 8 year old.*

*Disclaimer: I’m kidding. That’s disgusting but, fucking damn it, if it’s not refreshing to talk to someone brutally honest.

Boats and Oats

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It was hot and muggy as hell and I had a hangover that was debilitating. I might as well sit around in my underwear and swipe around. I was losing my energy and excitement with these apps. Now it was just a way to turn my brain off and relax. The profiles have all become boring. No one was really catching my eye anymore. I was sick of talking for weeks with people I’ve never met and then still never meeting. I was more sick of matching with guys and then never talking to them at all. What’s the point!? I matched with about 10 guys this particular night and initiated conversation with all of them. Entertain me, monkeys!

One guy stood out and we typed some bullshit back and forth for a while and then he asked me to come hang out with him on his boat. It wasn’t happening. There was no way I was putting on pants or makeup to meet this dude at 11:30pm. On his boat. Alone. No thanks, bruh. My first thought was just that I’m lazy and don’t feel like it. My next thoughts were that he wanted to drug me and drown me. Maybe he’s a roofie and rape kinda guy? I don’t know but I also didn’t want to find out. If we were going to meet it was going to now be in a well-lit, public place and I’ll have a chaperone and possibly armed bodyguards and a camera crew. Just in case. We agreed tonight was not the night so he offered the idea of breakfast in the morning as an alternative. That was a strong maybe.

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Early the next morning he messaged me again. I told him I was going for a run by the lake when I woke up so he told me the exact directions and code to get to his boat. He wanted me to come hang out, drenched in sweat on his boat at 8 in the morning?? Why? That sounds horrible for everyone. He attempted to entice me with the promise of oatmeal and black coffee. Prison food?! Come on! When you say “breakfast” to me I’m thinking eggs and potatoes with hot sauce and mimosas with no bottoms. Also, I pictured us meeting at a restaurant. Why has this guy not left his fucking boat all night? I told him that as tempting as a bowl of mush accompanied by instant black coffee sounded, I wasn’t coming. I had to work after this run anyway.

Halfway through my work day I had a quick break and checked my phone. This guy sent me a message asking if I needed a client today. “Need” a client? The question that most people ask me is, “Is there any way you can fit me in?” I’m never in need of bodies in my chair at the salon. I tell him this and he responded with a picture of his mullet. Ok, ok, it’s a fucking emergency. I get it. I tell him I can squeeze him in at the end of my day. I didn’t tell him the name of my salon so I wasn’t expecting him to actually show up. Homeboy did some research and walked in at 8:30. Everyone was confused. The receptionists had no idea anyone else was coming since I never put him on the schedule and I was just wondering how the hell he knew which salon I worked in! This guy is a stalker AND a drugger and drowner. Cool.

He was huge. Each of his arms were the size of both of my thighs. His t-shirt was too tight on his big man-boobs. He was ridiculously tan and that hair was wild. “I can’t believe you actually fucking showed up,” was exactly how I greeted him and then walked him back to my chair in the back corner of the salon to get to work on removing this mullet. He sounded like he was a long-lost member of the Jersey Shore cast when he talked, which I obviously made fun of him for. He’s got to be used to that. I gave him the same treatment I give my clients; a great haircut, shampoo and hot towel with a heaping amount of sarcasm, shit-talking and teasing. I don’t know why anyone comes back to me, honestly.

Since I’ve never had a guy from a dating app show up for a haircut for a first “date” I had no idea if I should charge him for the cut or not. I decided it felt weird so I told him the first cut is free but now he had to buy me a couple drinks now that he was presentable enough to be seen with me in public. Fair? We sat in the beer garden at Sheffield’s for a couple and he told me all about his adventures in real estate. It was riveting. I found out though that he actually lives in the suburbs most of the year but in the summer he lives on his boat. I’m a sucker for weirdos and boats though so I’m ok with all of this. He’d be fun to hang out with for the summer but once he heads back to the ‘burbs I’ll be all, “New phone, who dis??” I don’t drive and I don’t want to go to his village.

The beer garden was shutting down but I could do one more tequila and soda so I brought him to my dive. (If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you might think I live at Nisei. I don’t think I’ve slept there but I can’t be entirely sure. I do go there a lot.) On our walk over, I tell him my friend Dave is working. I’ve known Dave for 8 years and he’s seen every loser I ever dated for longer than a month. Dave used to feed me Jameson and Miller Lites at Nick’s Uptown before they closed. Now he feeds me tequila mixed drinks, Bud Light and Malort. I’ve gotten classier. Pinkies up! Now that this guy knows how dear Dave is to me, we walk in to the bar. No one else is there but Dave is behind the bar. Immediately upon introduction, Dave tells us a long story about threesomes and lots of alcohol. The details I’ll leave out. Thanks for helping me make a great first impression with this guy I just met, Dave! I should have known better and I probably should keep Tinder and Bumble dates away from anyone I know. Forever.

Thankfully another patron came in and Dave was distracted so I could change the subject. I still can’t clearly remember what we were talking about but something I said made this guy lean back, with his double thigh-sized arms crossed in front of his big man boobs, and he smirked. “You were friends with the guy who got shot about a month ago,” he said. I just stared at him with my mouth hanging open, replaying the conversation we just had in my head to figure out what I said that would lead him to say this. I still haven’t figured it out. An acquaintance had recently been murdered and days before this, he had asked me to meet up for drinks and to catch up. Everyone who knew him admits he was a great, fun guy but he also was sketchy in “business” deals. Gambling, stealing, lying and drugs were a big part of his life so I always kept my distance. The relief I felt for not hanging out with him before he died outweighed the guilt.

My date then goes into detail about how he also knew my friend and started to talk about how and why he was killed. Conversation ends here. I wanted no part in this. I didn’t want to know details. I didn’t want to know anyone who knows more than what was in the news. He insinuated that he not only buys and sells houses and buildings but he buys and sells drugs as well and has a shit ton of people working for him on this. I’m done, oatmeal boat guy. I’d advise you to eat something besides that while you’re still a free man because I’m sure you’ll have plenty of bowls of mush in prison. I’m not going to be all Michelle Pfeiffer in Scarface for you, even though I thought I would do anything for her wardrobe. Adios, Tony Montana! I’m not sticking around to see how this all ends.

 

 

The Underemployed One

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It’s Sunday morning and I’m doing the 30-something’s Walk-of-Shame from my Saturday night guy’s place, which is Ubering home, hung over, while texting my friends about the previous night. That’s when I get a Bumble message from a guy asking if I was interested in getting some brunch. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. The answer is always YES to brunch. We agree to meet at a brunch place my friend manages, as I’ve repeatedly promised to come check her new spot out and fail every time. I raced home to take care of the dogs and get cleaned up. When I’m almost there he texts to let me know there is an hour wait so he’s at the restaurant next door having a drink. It’s 11am. He’s drinking. We’re off to a good start.

I get there with my perfectly polished ponytail, giant sunglasses and pale yellow sundress that my friend Nikki just gave me, attempting my best (somewhat hung over, ‘I hope I don’t still smell like sex’) Audrey Hepburn look. I recognize him immediately from checking out his photos, even though it was clear his photos were quite old and he was a bit heftier than he was when they were taken. We hug and I order champagne; my drink for summer 2017. Hey, I’m celebrating being alive this summer! We get down to chatting and I notice he’s wearing very expensive, trendy, yet classic clothing but his eyes were glazed over and bloodshot. His shirt was unbuttoned a bit too far and his hair was wild. I asked how his night was and he told me he went to Cuvee, an upscale nightclub, the night before with friends. Despite having delayed responses to any of my questions, he responded and asked questions as well so I wasn’t leading the entire conversation. Something still seemed off about him but I guessed it was just his hang over.

On his profile he said he was a beverage director at a nice hotel. I asked him how he liked that job and he tells me he was fired from that place a year ago. Why the fuck does it still say it on your profile then, guy!? So I asked what he does now and why he was fired. He goes on to say he was fired for being “kind of an asshole and a drug addict”. LOVELY! He said he talked down to his staff and he didn’t realize other people didn’t use cocaine the same way he did. He basically did it all day and all night, in front of his coworkers and bosses, and was shocked that it was an issue when they brought it up to him and dismissed him from his role in the company. Now he claims to be underemployed, as he works as a bartender two nights a week at two different bars. This cocaine habit now explains his delayed responses and blood-shot eyes. This dude is still awake from partying last night!

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I knew I wasn’t attracted to him but we were here already and I was hungry. After almost an hour, I asked if he wanted to check on our table status next door at my friend’s brunch restaurant. He then tells me he never put our names in so we had just been sitting around the whole time waiting for nothing. This guy needs an adult. I run over, climb over 30 hungry people who are sitting around, waiting for their names to be called. I pull the dick move of name-dropping at the host stand and hug my friend Sarah after the hostesses get her attention. She was running around like a mad woman but told me there are seats that will be available at the bar. I run over to tell the underemployed guy to drag him over before he orders another cocktail.

When I came back and told him, he then lets me know that he has no cards and no cash so if I could cover everything today, he could Venmo me or get me next time. I’m getting fucking PLAYED right now!! This broke-ass scammer got me! I ask why he wanted to invite me to brunch if he has no money but he assures me he has some in the bank, he just left his debit card at the nightclub last night. You’re a 30-something year old man who only has one card to his name and you leave it somewhere and invite a girl out?? What’s WRONG with you? Where did you go wrong in life? Shit, where did I go wrong in life if these are the guys I’m meeting!? I pay and we go next door, order food and a drink and continue on this “date”. I talked to my friend and the bartender now more than I talked to this guy. He picked at a salad and slowly sipped a bloody Mary while I crushed some eggs and veggies and two champagne cocktails.

We decide it’s time to go since I hate him and he has to actually go to one of his jobs soon. My friend kindly discounts half of our bill, I pay again and then decide to run to the restroom before we walk out. Before I go, he tells me to close my eyes and hold out my hand. I fear something bad will happen but I look around and realize we are elbow to elbow with people and there are hundreds of people there. What’s the worst he could do? I did as he asked and when I opened my eyes I saw a big bag of white powder in my palm. I gasped and clenched my fist, shoving the bag back in his hand. “What?”, he said, “Do a couple bumps in the bathroom.” Then he winked. Barf. It is 12:30pm on a Sunday, sir! And we are dining at a fine, family restaurant, where my friend is the manager! What’s wrong with you?

We leave and, unfortunately, have to walk the same direction to get to our destinations. While we walk, he repeatedly pulls this bag out to do bumps off of his key. Once he did it in front of a church. Once he did it in front of a playground, as a mother pushing a double-wide stroller walked by. We’re a block away from his job when he ducks into an alley and asks me to wait a minute. I glance over after a few seconds to catch him pissing behind a dumpster, cocaine in-hand. He zips up and we continue this romantic stroll to his job, where he leans toward me, open-mouthed, tongue-first. I put both arms between us, on his chest and push away. “K, this was fun! Talk to you later!”, I blurted out. I’m a fucking liar. Once again he tells me, “I’ll Venmo you!” and I briskly walked on. No look of longing as I left. No eye contact at all actually. I stared at the ground and moved my legs as fast as a girl can in wedge sandals. I’ll never forget you, Venmo guy.

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When you wanted to be the dumper but end up being the dumpee

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I obviously was not a big fan of the guy who looked like a goldfish but I continued to see him when I was bored. He always showed up when I told him to and was a really good time when he wasn’t being annoying. It helped that he liked to always tell me that I look like the woman who plays the role of Wonder Woman in the new movie that was coming out. After our first week of hanging out, he sent me a text saying, “Happy one week anniversary!” I gagged. We got into a fight during that week too because he says really stupid things and interrupts people incessantly so I tell him to shut up and stop being a rude toddler.  He said that if we can get through that, we can get through anything.

He was also not a fan of the fact that I knew someone everywhere we went. He got jealous when I would talk to people I saw in public and started to resent me, I think. This lead to him picking on me for anything I said or did and he laughed about it when I got mad at him. When I asked him why he enjoyed pushing my buttons so much, he said I was just a spoiled princess who was used to everyone giving me everything I want and no one ever calls me out on my shit so he was going to continue to basically be a total dick.

Excuse me, Nemo!? I’ve worked my ass off for everything my whole life and never expect things from other people. No one calls me out on my shit because there’s no shit to call me out on! I can be a little (a lot) bossy sometimes but only when I need to be. Most of the time I get whatever I want from subtle manipulation so the bossiness doesn’t have to come out! I’m not a princess at all, either. How insulting! I’m a fucking goddess, dickwad.

I already planned to dump him that weekend when he would inevitably ask to see me. I would have done it sooner but I was in the middle of a 5 day drinking bender so it would have to wait. (Hey, it’s summer in Chicago and I’m single for the first time in years. I’m having fun! Don’t be a judgmental prick.) Saturday comes and he, of course, wanted to hang out when I got out of work. He spent the day on a boat with friends and told me he would meet me after he got cleaned up. I didn’t have to tell him where I was because after just a short time of knowing me, he assumed I’d be at my neighborhood bar since I didn’t have any plans. He assumed correctly.

By the time he showed up I was already hammered. I was not just drunk but straight up wasted. That’s what happens when you’re at the end of a 5 day bender, apparently. It doesn’t take much to get you there when you’re body is probably made up of about 90% alcohol at this point. Someone recently described this to me as the shampoo effect. A post in Urban Dictionary very eloquently explains this phenomenon. The fifth entry is my favorite.

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=shampoo+effecthttp://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=shampoo+effect

My friend Alyssa met me as well and she had to explain the night to me a few days later since after they showed up, I remember nothing besides waking up on my toilet in the middle of the night with my phone in my hand. We apparently went to two other bars and Jon just kept picking fights with us and she and I did a lot of eye-rolling and had plans to ditch him. He started an argument about whether there were stray cats in the city of Chicago or not. (He doesn’t think they exist.) I think the topic was brought up because of  Alyssa’s bewilderment over pigeons who only have one leg and why they end up that way, but I’m not entirely sure. Either way, what a fucking stupid thing to argue over! Our plans to ditch him ended in failure. Somehow Alyssa ditched us instead and he ended up at my apartment around the corner.

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The only goldfish we like are our crackers.

 

When I woke up from my toilet nap, I shot him a text asking what the hell happened the night before and where he went. He explained to me that I irritated him because he knew I was in the bathroom ignoring him and he was positive I was not sleeping. So he left me in there and didn’t try to find out what’s going on!? Why the hell would anyone hide out in their own bathroom? I could have been dying! Maybe I was choking on my own vomit! Maybe I drowned! He just left me there to die like Elvis! Wonderful…Could you imagine how mortified you’d be in your casket after reading your obituary??

Just as I started typing my crushing dump message, he texts me to say we shouldn’t hang out anymore because together we are “explosive”. He goes on to tell me I’m like a hurricane or firecracker, and not in a good way. Also, I’m “terrifying” to him. I’m absolutely flattered by all of this but am PISSED I didn’t send my message first! It’s so unsatisfying when you’re looking forward to something so much and it’s taken from you in an instant! Either way it’s done though. I tell him good luck and to let me know if he ever wants me to destroy him in Pac-Man or Skee Ball again like I did on our first date. AS disappointed as I was for not getting to do the dumping, I never had to see Flounder again and that was a good thing.

(Side note: Does anyone else think it’s hilarious that I said “dump”, “pissed” and “explosive” in a story in which I slept on a toilet?? Literal tears are streaming down my face from laughing so hard. Also, I have a clogged tear duct right now so that might be why but, I still can’t stop laughing. Also, I swear I only peed before taking my toilet nap.)

Jesus, take the wheel…

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Surprisingly, I was dateless on a Thursday night, so I went to my neighborhood bar for a drink after work. It was charity night with guest bartenders which sounds great but I usually dread it because I prefer my dive bar to be empty besides a handful of my closest alcoholic friends who are also regulars. I spotted two of them this night and plopped my ass right beside them. Bartender Doug slid my drink down before I even got settled and the guys and I started talking. Babes with Blades Theater Company was throwing the event for the night and had temporary tattoos for us to fuck around with. We made friends with Annie who was guest bartending and she and I talked about an old dive called the Oasis in Rogers Park and the badass woman named GiGi who has worked there for decades. One drink turns to two drinks and a shot and the boys and I chat back and forth about online dating while encouraging Annie to drink more Malort. We notice our beloved dive bar now is lacking their gorgeous 100 bottle Malort shrine and they’ve replaced it with a 20 bottle mystery shot shelf. (Not quite as impressive, Pat! Still cool though.) 20170526_235647167_iOS.jpg

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Vik asks us which bottle appeals to us most based on appearance and number. All of the bottles are covered in brown paper bags and numbered 1-20. Immediately I compare it to online dating. I tell them it’s similar to all of the dating apps because you have to just pick a random and hope for the best. You’re going in blind really. All you know is you’re not picking the short, fat bottle because it looks dangerous, just like you’re not picking the short, fat guy because EW. We come up with our own ideas for dating apps that we think would be better than Tinder and Bumble and all the others. “Jesus Take the Wheel” was the name Vik gave to our app idea that you’re not allowed to swipe on at all. It’s guided and directed by your friends and family only. We plan to market that one in the Bible Belt first, of course. I’m not expecting that one to do as well in Chicago to start.

Then, Vik drops some life-changing truth on us:

Women are the gate-keepers to sex. Men are the gate-keepers to commitment.

This explains why he swipes right on everyone and waits to see which fish bite. The more chances of getting laid, the better! But he’s right, unless GHB is involved. (Sorry. Not funny. True though!) Women decide who they want to have a second date with usually or who they want to go on a date with in the first place. At least I do. When I left my husband I lined up dates every night. Mostly because I knew I had no idea what I was doing on dates. I’ve been in non-stop relationships since I was 24 pretty much. As soon as I’d lose a guy, another would steal me and keep me a while before he did something awful and we split up. I needed to practice and get good at this dating thing again. Out of all the dates I’ve been on the past few months, few have ended in a second date and, obviously, fewer have ended in sex. I AM the gate-keeper!!! (Of sex, at least.) Most of the guys I had dates with wanted to see me again which means they had a strong interest in penetration as well. Duh. I controlled the outcome.

Men are the controllers of commitment and relationships though. Once you’ve dated for a while and you’re in a sexual relationship with someone, it means (usually) that the woman has decided she likes you enough to have a relationship. What it means to guys is, “Fuck, yeah! I bang this chick!” And he probably bangs a few others as well. Guys have the ball on this one though. They decide if it’s a green light or red on being committed most of the time. I’m currently waiting for the light to change with the guy I’m dating. It’s been two months. I’m stuck at yellow. I’m impatient though and I want to know where this is going, like yesterday!

In the meantime, I’ll get the Jesus Take the Wheel app going and pray to Malort that my friends and family can choose my match better than I can if this gate-keeper of commitment gives me the red light.