Tag: dating apps

Listen, Judge Judy…

swipingmylifeawayLeave a comment

After dating for fiftyleven years, I find myself now reaching breaking points. I’ll put myself out there so much and open up and be completely honest. I don’t know how to be any other way really. I’ve gone on so many dates and dated people that were mediocre or straight up brutally awful but I still keep trying because I’m…hopeful? Curious? Stupid? A masochist? Who knows? Lately I’m feeling exhausted and skeptical and cautious and fucking over it.

“Love”. That’s the end goal right? Or is it? Is that what I want? Or do I need attention and entertainment? I’m content with the humor that comes from dating. I enjoy discovering the weird in everyone. It’s intriguing to me. Until it’s not. This year I had dates with 4 men in June and became exhausted. Until October. I went on dates with 5 more men in the fall. They broke me. I’m done. As I’ve discussed with many of my fellow single friends, we’ve reached our breaking point. This shit is NOT. WORTH. IT. Seriously…it’s so not worth it.

I’m perfectly capable of fucking up my own life. I’ve also met plenty of people who can assist me in that. I know that from years of experience. I’ve got my life together though. If I ever get in a relationship again, I want a companion who also has their shit in order. Someone on the same page. I need someone who has also lived and died a few times. Someone who has experienced all sorts of weird and fucked up stuff and survived to tell their tales. But also someone who can be completely transparent in communication. No secrets. No lies. No judgement and no bullshit. Someone who doesn’t have their mattress on the floor and someone who has hobbies and interests and education. Someone well-traveled and compassionate. Someone who makes me laugh but knows that I’m funnier than he is. Maybe also someone ridiculously good-looking. Tall, rich, ripped like Jesus and hung like a horse. I am NOT asking for too much!

I could also be completely happy staying single forever and occasionally taking loverrrs. (MeYOW!) I’ve never felt the need or strong desire to get married or have kids. I love my life as it is. I love doing whatever I want, with whomever I want. I don’t have to answer to anyone. I love kids but I love dogs and drinking wine so much more. I was MADE to be an auntie. The wild, eccentric one who is a little tipsy or maybe hungover. I always thought I’d be like Elizabeth Taylor or Zsa Zsa Gabor. A glamazon-type woman who marries and divorces as quickly as the wind changes course. Fuck that though. Sometimes I don’t feel like brushing my hair and marriage and divorce were not fun. 0 stars. 0 out of 10. Would not recommend. I did it once and I’m scarred for life.

Is “love” with a “soulmate” the real end goal here? Do we all believe in that? Or is procreating really everyone’s goal? This all sounds a bit outdated to me. I learned that during the pandemic and the insanity of Trump’s presidency and this insane election and the crazy divide in our country, along with the income inequality and racial injustice, climate change and THOUSANDS of other fucked up issues, I have less and less of a desire to “achieve” these things.

I also feel like many of my friends who are married or married with kids are unhappy more than they are happy. They resent their spouses. They resent their children. They resent their in-laws. They resent their single friends. They miss their freedom. They’re bored with the monotony of their life. I don’t want to feel that way.

I think they actually resent themselves for the decisions they have made. The grass is always greener… Some of their single friends are jealous of their lives though. A ton of them are. They crave the stable life and consistency. They desire the ring and 2.5 children. They want the financial security that often comes with having a partner.

These “taken” friends though. These “happily married with children” friends. These “friends” are also the first to spew their advice and judgment on their single friends. Listen here, Tiffany, the last person I want relationship advice from is the person who just chugged a full bottle of tequila while calling her husband a prick repeatedly, whining about not ever having sex, and feeling unheard and unappreciated, crying about being in love with her ex, being sick of digging Cheerios out of the couch cushions, wishing she had more time to herself and hating her post-baby body. I didn’t make your life decisions for you, so stop trying to make mine for me.

Bottom line: Stop taking advice you don’t want and stop giving advice that is not wanted. We all have our history which has led us on our path or journey to our future. You didn’t grow up like me and I didn’t grow up like you. Just because you wouldn’t make the same decisions someone else made, doesn’t mean they’re wrong. Just because we don’t all have the same goals in life, doesn’t mean any of them are wrong. I’ve said no to many marriage proposals, stood up in countless weddings, left a marriage and said goodbye after an engagement. I’ve also stayed too long in relationships and situationships. I’m more critical of myself and my decisions than you ever could be. It’s not your place to judge, just as it’s not my place to judge you. I’ll walk my path and you walk yours and I hope both are happy in the end.

Hoppin’ off my soapbox now to get back on my bullshit!!

Guess who’s back…back again…

swipingmylifeaway5 Comments

You GUYS!!!!! Things have changed. The world is on fucking fire. This dumpster fire shit show is a trip. Try dating apps during Covid and you’ll definitely get to the point of utter despair if you weren’t there already. Shit is brutal out here.

Yes, I left my fiance. He’s scum. You know that’s what I’m attracted to. Give me all the liars, the cheaters, the pedophiles, the rapists, the stalkers and the woman beaters. I can take it, apparently. I can handle them. (My new therapist might disagree…)

Let’s not discuss the bullshit that went down with my ex though. Let’s not give him the time of day (for now…I’ll give you all the dirt and tea and info another time.) Let’s instead discuss dating in the times of Covid…

You’re not going out meeting people because, well, COVID. It’s also not likely that you meet anyone by going out prior to this shitstain of a virus anyway because people are glued to their crew and their phones when they’re in public. No one approaches anyone else anymore. It’s just not how the dating world works these days. Now though, things are vastly different than ever before. Muhfuckers been cooped up in their apartments for months. Now that the patios in Chicago have reopened, everyone is ready for social distance meet-ups. (Or not socially distanced for some people.)

I, honest to whatever God there might be, thought I was ready to meet someone from a dating app. Biiiiiiitch!!! You just left an engagement…during a pandemic…in the midst of protests and riots over racial injustice…while the economy is in the toilet…while we’re in the middle of one of the biggest presidential elections probably EVER. The world is literally ON FIRE. Now is not the time! Let me say that louder to my dumb self…NOW IS NOT THE TIME!!!!

Me: This seems like a great time to start meeting prospective future romantic partners.

Trust me, I hate my guts too…

So there was this one day…

A guy I matched with on Hinge texted me after pulling a Houdini in our text convo a couple weeks prior. 

“Want to go to the lake?”

It was a gorgeous Monday. I was off work. I finished all my housework and did yoga. Fuck it. I was in. We met at the gas station that was on the way to the lakefront and walked the rest of the way together. He was cute! I thought… You never know these days with everyone wearing masks. Plus my horny ass thinks every guy looks hot as hell lately. He was tall-ish, tan, pretty eyes, not morbidly obese. I don’t have the highest standards these days. 

We got to the the golf course and decided to sit down and have a drink. He ordered a Corona and I had a hard seltzer because I’m basic AF sometimes. He repeatedly made comments about his penis turning itself into a vagina if he ever drank one of those himself. I know…I should have left then because it’s all downhill from here.

After our drink, he paid and we walked to the steps at the lake. He was walking behind me since the water was splashing up onto the pavement and we didn’t want to get our shoes wet or slip into Lake Michigan. He made a comment thanking me for wearing yoga pants for this so he could “check out that cute ass”. We all know my ass is flatter than the day is long, sir. Get real.

As I’m talking, I heard a splash and turned to see my date in the water fully clothed. My first thought was that I bored him so much that he couldn’t take listening to me talk anymore. He’d rather drown himself than listen to my voice for one more second. Apparently that was not the case. Like in some shitty romantic comedy-type shit, he wanted me to jump in with him! I pointed at the sign next to where he jumped and reminded him that it said “No swimming” and the waves were insane that day. Plus I had no swimsuit. “You got a bra and panties on right?? Take those clothes off and get in here with me!” Again, I should have left. What is WRONG with me!? Leave his dumbass in that lake, Erin! Do you know how many dead bodies they pull out of there every year? What’s one more? 

He eventually realized I was never going to give in to his request, so he got out and we sat on the steps while he was sopping wet. After talking for a bit, he pulled a Marlboro red out of his shoe and lit it up. “I thought your profile said you don’t smoke cigarettes,” I said. He responds with, “Only when I’m high, girl.” “Wait, you’re high now,” I said. He’s like, “Yeah, I took an edible before I took the Lime down here. It’s just now kicking in.” Fucking nice… Wouldn’t you at least ask your date if they wanted one too??

While he’s smoking and talking, I couldn’t help but stare at his mouth. It was difficult to fully see what was going on in the tooth region because the sun was shining behind him, into my eyes but I was fairly certain homeboy had one fucked up front tooth. He noticed me staring I guess because I was squinting and staring HARD. “Oh, you noticed this?”, he asked. 

Me: Huh? Noticed whaaat?

Him: Yeah my tooth got knocked out when I was installing some cabinetry. 

Me: Oh damn…brutal.

At least there was an explanation for it but why would you go on a first date with no front tooth? It wasn’t until later that I realized this accident must have happened a while ago because he had no bruises or cuts anywhere near his face. How long have you not had a fucking tooth?? And do you have any plans to replace it or is this a permanent thing?? How much COVID can he spew out of this black hole? Sooooo many questions.

After this, he asked if he could sit closer to me. I felt like saying no but my mouth took over my brain and I said, “Yes, just put your mask back on.” He scooted down to sit on the same step as me and he put his mask over his face and tooth hole. Conversation continued but I noticed him inching closer and closer until he went to lie down and PUT HIS HEAD ON MY LEG!!!! 

“Ohhh, you’re so comfortable. I could get used to this,” he said. No, asshole. Please don’t! He then rolled onto his back, still resting his toothless head on my thigh and he points to his crotch and said, “Oh, don’t pay any attention to this.” Of course then, I looked. I fucking looked. Dude had an ERECTION! WHY?! He casually then lets me know that it had nothing to do with me. (Like is that better or worse? I still don’t know.) He mentioned that it was his birthday last week and his friend gave him a red pill. He had no idea what it was so he just took it. He just took it! 

It turned out to be a gas station boner pill. I don’t drive a car or go to gas stations so I politely requested that he elaborate. Did everyone else know that they sell some cheap, Chinese version of Viagra at the gas station?! I thought I was worldly and educated but I guess NOT! This was all brand new to me. Unfortunately, his fun pill was lasting 4 days and he didn’t seem too concerned at all, or embarrassed. Now, I don’t have a dick, but if I did, I might be fearful that this was a sign of something bad happening. I’ve done some drugs and none of them have ever stayed in my system with and been effective for that long. It would have been nice if certain ones did but this is not how drugs normally work. 

At this point I finally knew I needed to run. How do you politely tell someone they’re creepy and gross and they give you yucky feelings in your tummy? Suggestions welcomed. I just lied and said I forgot to feed my dogs so I had to get going. He tried walking me home and I blurted out some crazy stuff about having stalkers and not letting men walk me home on the first date because of ax murderers in my home town and clowns. Don’t ask me where any of this came from. I stuttered the entire time and started sweating and just turned around and walked away. By “walked”, I mean tripped and almost fell on my face before regaining my balance and trying to walk away and look cool. 

I wish the story ended here. Alas, it does not. Stay. Motherfucking. Tuned.

#baddates #baddate #uncomfortable #coviddate #lakemichigan #chicagodates #toothless #boner #bonerpill #viagra #chineseviagra #birthdaydrugs #firstdate #hinge # hingestories #hingedate #hingedates #hingeencounters #datingapps

Let me tell ya ’bout my best friend…

swipingmylifeaway1 Comment

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.

Know when to fold ’em

swipingmylifeawayLeave a comment

I keep reading about “breadcrumbing”, which is apparently the latest “trend” in dating. Actually, I’m not seeking out information about breadcrumbing, people just won’t stop sending me links about it. It’s like they’re all trying to tell me something I don’t already know. Breadcrumbing is basically just a dick move of leading someone on for a period of time until they finally realize it and promptly fuck off like they should have a long time before. The breadcrumber might seem super into you for a bit and you feel a connection but then they disappear or seem uninterested. As soon as you are done and are ready to let them go, they do something to reel you back in.

My breadcrumber and I met after I left work and he and his friends left a Cub’s game early in the season. I walked in to a crowded Wrigley bar looking for a guy in a green shirt. That should be easy in a sea of red and Cubby blue. I spotted one heavier, older, aesthetically unpleasing gentleman in green on one side of the bar and a hottie in green at the other side. I quietly prayed to the dating gods (if they really are out there somewhere, looking down and punishing me) that the fat, old dude was not the guy I had planned to meet. The hottie shouted my name and waved me over. (Thank you this time, dating gods!) As I walked closer to him, his taller, very drunk friend grabbed my right buttcheek as I leaned in toward my green shirt-clad Tinder match for a hug. We hit it off and I got along well with all of his friends, including the buttcheek grabber. We ended up seeing each other 4 times out of 5 nights that week. It seemed like a lot to me but fuck it, we were having fun.

We both were divorced and from Detroit. He liked dive bars, cheap beer and Malort too. He was good looking with muscles and money and he liked to drink a lot. Clearly, he was just my type. He told me about his two little girls who were 4 and 6, selling his first company for 80 bajillion dollars when he was 34, and taking all of his friends out on his boat every weekend. He wanted me to immediately change my work schedule so it didn’t interfere with the boating routine, as he wanted me to accompany him every Wednesday and Saturday. He was the kind of guy who would bring his own liquor into a bar and leave his credit cards places for days at a time or lose his shoes after a night of partying. He would go out and binge drink 7 nights in a row but then was all business and sober Sally the next week for work and his daughters.

Bringing your own booze to dive bars and music venues is definitely frowned upon.

When a fuckboi is in his natural habitat, he may opt to remove his boat shoes and pastel, plaid ensemble for more comfortable attire.
 

 

Throughout the next month or so, we texted daily and updated each other on what we had going on. We didn’t see one another as often as that first week but we both had a lot going on. He had his daughters and some custody issues going on and I had work, a busy social life and the pending divorce and charges against my husband. Seeing him regularly was not vital to me so I didn’t see this as him being distant.

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The times we did see each other, our friends were usually around too. I liked this, as I rely heavily on my friends’ opinions of the men I date now. This is because after over 15 years of dating, I finally realize I’m pure shit at picking guys. I need someone to tell me, “Good, girl!” or “NO! Bad, Erin!” Train me in dating the way you train a two month old puppy. I received both words of praise and encouragement with this guy, along with some warning and reprimanding. It seems my friends were about 50/50 on my selection this time which confused the shit out of me. If I was actually a puppy I think I’d be pissing in my food bowl and eating the furniture. So confused.

I decided to just ride this out and see what was going to happen. Over the next 4 months we saw each other less and less. When we did see each other I didn’t even have fun and there was little affection. We talked about the most mundane, boring things. If there was any spark before, I was slowly realizing it was gone now. I still don’t know if that’s naturally what just happens in every relationship after a while or if that spark stays forever with certain people. Maybe there’s a spark that keeps coming and going. It fades slowly and then reignites after some time. Who fucking knows. I still continued talking to him, despite realizing we would never have the relationship I thought we might when I first met him.

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I think after about the fifth time you hang out with someone is when their true personality comes out. They get comfortable and forget to pretend to be someone they’re not. I started to realize he was, as one of my closest friends told me, “emotionally unavailable” and, as another friend eloquently stated, “he’s a selfish, narcissistic asshole.” Despite seeing this now, he kept reeling me back in by telling me, “I care about you so much. I hope you know that.” and “I always got your back, ya know?” I wondered why he’d bother talking to me still and saying things like that when we hadn’t seen each other in a month and hadn’t made any plans to change that any time soon. Still though, my dumb ass was willing to give it one last shot because I. Am. Not. A. Quitter.

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My birthday was coming up and he asked what I had planned. I told him that the weekend after my birthday I was inviting about 6,000 of my closest friends to a bar to celebrate my birthday, my divorce and the expensive new lumps I added to my chest. When he heard the party was the weekend after my birthday, he told me he had plans to be visiting his daughters in Hawaii that weekend and requested that I consider changing the date to the weekend before my birthday. It didn’t matter to me when it was and I hadn’t invited anyone yet so I switched the date.

The night before, I went to a wedding. If you know me at all, that means I showed up lookin’ like my best version of sexpot, queen of the universe, Sophia Loren, when she was in her prime. After the amount of wine and vodka I consumed at the wedding, I know I left feeling like a million bucks but I’m assuming I more closely resembled Gollum from Harry Potter if you were to put him in a wig and a dress, than Sophia on the red carpet. That didn’t stop me from inviting myself over to my breadcrumber’s house. Not shockingly, he let a drunk girl come over to his place at 1am after attending a wedding.

The next morning I tried to leave to get myself ready for my party but he kept asking me to stay while pulling me in toward him for hugs and forehead kisses. Before I left he ran down the back stairs to remind me to text him when I was getting a Lyft or Uber downtown so he could leave at the same time and get to the party when I did. In my head I just thought, “HA! He’s proving you wrong, 50% of my friends who think he sucks! HA!” I cleaned up and tried not to look like a hideous, dress and wig-clad Gollum, texted him, “heading to Hubbard Inn now” and headed to my party with my friend.

Three hours. We spent three hours there and he never showed up. He never texted. He didn’t call. He didn’t do a thing. Before we left I texted, “I take it you’re not coming?” No response. I had the best time with my friends and went to two more places after leaving that venue. I couldn’t be more thankful that I had so many people around me that night that I love so much but I couldn’t get him out of my head. After the Malort shots kicked in and kicked my ass, my friends walked me home and I passed out gracefully and beautifully like the sweet princess I am. When I woke up in the morning, still moderately intoxicated, I sent him, what he likes to call a “nastygram”. Any time I called him out on his bullshit he claimed I “nastygrammed” him. “You really just enjoy fucking with me, don’t you,” was my nastygram to him this time. Within a minute he responded and explained that he got “a little drunk” that afternoon because the Lions won. He also said that he decided he didn’t really want to show up anyway because I mentioned that some of my friends were not fans of the way he treated me all summer. He “didn’t want to be in a room with a bunch of haters.”

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That was it. He proved the other 50% right. They could smell the bullshittery on him from the second they met him in his pink, plaid shorts and Sperrys. He was an overgrown, 39 year old, frat boy and they called it immediately. I got played for months by a guy who wears. Pink. Fucking. Plaid. I couldn’t roll my eyes hard enough after reading his last message. I was done. I knew I didn’t even like him that much. It was all about the cat and mouse game and I just don’t like losing. I also don’t like being wrong and I wanted those “haters” of his to have read him wrong; not me. I lost though. I should have folded after the first time he did something that disappointed me but I kept betting with a losing hand. This time, I promptly fucked off like I should have done months ago. 

 

Fuckboi, bye!
“Delete contact”
 

 

Introduction to “breadcrumbing”

swipingmylifeawayLeave a comment

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.

The Meatball

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Now most people ask if I have “must own a boat and invest in cryptocurrencies” as requirements on my Bumble and Tinder profiles. Not the case. I’ve just accidentally met a lot of guys who do one or both of those things. This time though, I swiped right because of the boat pictures. This guy was cute but not my normal style. My normal kind of guy is ridiculously gorgeous with a super hot bod. I could go for cute-ish and chubby though if he has a boat. We agreed to meet at RPM Italian for dinner and drinks, despite the fact that I told him I’d skip the carbs from pasta and just drink a couple Manhattans or tequila cocktails with him.

I was running early and he was running late. I popped into Ema to have a drink before he arrived. Two cocktails later, he still wasn’t there but said he was a few minutes away. I decided to walk over and grab our table at the restaurant so I asked what name the reservation was under. He didn’t make one. How the hell did he think we could casually walk into RPM Italian and get a table like it’s a fucking Applebee’s?! I did a walk-through of the bar area to see if any seats were available. Booked as hell. I told him I’d be standing outside on the corner like a prostitute waiting for him since we would have to go somewhere else. Moments later I heard some man screaming my name. I spotted him in his brand new Mercedes waving at me to come over. I hopped in the car and my nostrils were assaulted by an overwhelming dose of cologne. My date was about 30-40 pounds heavier than in his pictures and missed the top three buttons on his shirt, exposing his bushy chest hair and gold chain and giant cross. His hair was shaved on the sides and the top was long but cemented down with heavy duty, super strong hold hair gel. On his profile he said he was 31 but in person he looked like he was closer to 50. He started driving, never apologized for being almost an hour late and just repeatedly asked me where I wanted to go. Everything he said, he repeated 3 times in the strongest Jersey Shore accent I’ve ever heard. It was good that he did repeat everything multiple times because his accent was so strong I definitely couldn’t understand him the first time so it saved me the trouble of asking him “what” over and over.

We ended up heading to the rooftop at the Godfrey. He rudely chucked his keys at the valet guy’s chest and we continued to the elevator to the rooftop bar. While I was looking at the cocktail list, I heard him order a pitcher of strawberry mojitos from the bartender, despite telling me earlier he was avoiding sugary drinks so he could drop 10 pounds (or 30). I couldn’t believe he ordered for us without consulting me first. The bartender started to walk away and I put my menu down and this guy called the bartender back over saying, “Get mah lady’s ordah!” I asked for a Maker’s Manhattan up and was thoroughly confused as to why this guy needed 5 full strawberry mojitos to himself on a Tuesday night but I am not one to judge, especially on alcohol consumption.

He explains to me that he’s an only child, a momma’s boy and VERY Italian. I didn’t know you could be more than just plain old Italian so I was obviously intrigued. The reason he was late to our date (and not sorry about it in the least) was because his momma made him some meatballs and spaghetti. He tried to leave after one plate but she made him have another. His mother, the love of his VERY Italian life, is controlling everything in his life, but mostly his waistline it seems. Within about 20 minutes of this date, he tells me he wants me to meet his mother and she would love me. She loves a good, pretty Italian girl. I’m 6% Italian according Ancestry DNA but I didn’t tell him that. Let him create his own weird fantasies. Who am I to tell the truth? A bad move on a first date is to talk about the girl you just met meeting your mother. My boner was gone in a heartbeat.

Besides talking about being VERY Italian and a momma’s boy, he had a ton of other interesting topics of conversation. He loved talking about his money and his family’s money. Also fun, was talking about his friends’ money. We talked about his boat and expensive, fast cars. We talked about clubs and bottle service. My mind was so stimulated I could have exploded. This guy was dreamy. Listening to all of this coming from a guy with the accent of Pauly D or The Situation and the body of a slightly elongated Danny DeVito, was beyond my wildest fantasies. This was my guy. This was my next future ex husband.

I finished my second Manhattan and was pretty buzzed after the two drinks I had at Ema and because we never actually ate dinner. He offered to drive me home and I accepted because I’ve become stuck up as hell and would rather choke on my own vomit than take public transportation when I’ve been drinking. It wasn’t until the check came that I noticed he consumed two pitchers of strawberry mojitos. It wasn’t until I thought about the date the next day that I realized he drove me home after 10 cocktails and that was probably bad.

He insisted on walking me to my door, which was nice but, of course, after 10 cocktails, he had the balls to try and stick his tongue down my throat. That was gross. Momma’s spaghetti and meatballs were probably still in his teeth. We said goodnight and I went inside to my couch and my dogs. He sent me a few texts when he got home saying that he wished I was with him in his bed. I responded as I think most nice Italian girls would, by saying, “ha, thanks. nite.”

I’ll never understand how people can’t read body language, facial expressions or tone of voice. I don’t get how you can’t tell when you’re not connecting with someone. Maybe 10 mojitos had something to do with it. I don’t know. The Meatball and I will likely never see one another again. That’s what I get for swiping right for boats. No good can ever come of it.

 

 

Flushing the goldfish

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Of course it wasn’t going to last!! No one is surprised here. Once an asshole, always an asshole! Come on! After the goldfish made his return, we hung out three more times that same week. That Sunday we woke up at my place and popped open my last bottle of champagne from my wedding. We walked my dogs and then got brunch on a patio. I apologized to the woman and her daughter next to us because my dogs were begging for their food. Luckily, they were dog lovers and didn’t mind at all. He and I playfully argued and teased each other and finally the woman next to us said, “You two are just the cutest couple.” Right away I informed her that we were absolutely not a couple because he dumped me months ago so this was his probationary period. Definitely NOT a couple. He’s an asshole. She and her daughter thought this was hilarious and all through brunch they were eavesdropping on our conversations and laughing when we roasted each other. I let him pay and reminded him that he needs to redeem himself for his behavior earlier this year. The woman patted my hand and told us that she sees us living a long and happy life together. GROSS! Ick! Yuck! No! Again they laughed at my reaction and wished us good luck after petting and saying goodbye to the dogs.

The rest of the week went well. I didn’t see him but we talked everyday. Thursday came around and we were talking about You’re the Worst again because I was finishing up the last few episodes of the latest season. I mentioned that my friend Zack was also a fan of the show. This is when all fucking hell broke loose. He already seemed to be in sort of a bad mood that night but when I mentioned another guy’s name he flipped completely. I asked what his problem was and he said he can’t keep track of all of the guys I’ve introduced him to and he doesn’t care about the opinions of any of them anyway. “Why the FUCK would you text me what you’re talking about with other guys in the first place,” was actually what he said. He also told me it’s extremely rude to mention another man’s name to him.

He said, “I don’t care about your other dates and the guys you hang out with. It came across as ‘I’m dating soooooo many other guys and here’s what they’re all saying. Deal with it.’ Sarah likes rainbows. I don’t tell you that because why would you care about Sarah or her opinion on rainbows!? Tiffany and Jenni are happy. You want to get to do whatever you want without ever thinking of the other person. You don’t care about people. You’re rude and don’t care about…ME!! You wanted me to be jealous.”

Holy rant! After reading it all I told him to reread all of our messages when he’s sober. Then came the sarcasm…

“You win. You’re right. You couldn’t have done it any differently. It’s all my fault. I should have been intrigued with strange men’s comments. My bad. Think about all of this when you’re not so fucking selfish! Maybe I actually like you which is why I care so much about this. I said that you’re rude though but if you’re above hearing that and think you’re too good for that comment, I apologize. You don’t see it and you refuse to think about it! You were soooo polite it’s impossible to wonder why there was an issue. You could NEVER be wrong.”

Throughout all of this I repeatedly had to explain myself and remind him that Zack is my friend and he shouldn’t be so jealous and angry about me having friends who are guys because I have a lot of them and that won’t ever change. Finally I decided we were done for the night since this had gone on for hours. We could talk about it in the morning. The next day though, he was no different. I asked how he felt after reading the conversation when he was sober. “I have words. You won’t like them. Truce.” That’s all he had to say for himself after acting out and having a temper tantrum like a fucking spoiled child who didn’t get his way. I wished him good luck in life and dating and thought that was the end of it. He responded though and took everything I said the night before and twisted it. He said that I said, “Do you know who I am!? I’m better than you and my friends all hate you.” Now come on, even if that’s true I think we all know I’d have a much more creative way of saying it!

I was done though. I’ve dated too many jealous and insecure guys. I can’t tolerate guys who are intimidated by someone who is strong and independent and resilient. I won’t be with someone possessive and who twists my words and tries to mind fuck me. His behavior when we dated the first time all made sense now. I couldn’t figure out why he started fights with me and insulted me all the time. He was insecure and wanted to knock me down a little so he felt like he had more control over me. That’s some toxic bullshit and I fell for it when I was younger, more than once. I’m not going down that road again though.

Good luck to you, you sweaty bastard! You’re dead to me.

 

They always come back

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Maybe there’s an intensely powerful pheromone that your body releases that causes ex boyfriends or guys you’ve dated to reach out and find you via text, email, Facebook, carrier pigeon or any other means possible. I can’t explain why it happens but it always does and they all do it at the same time. Sometimes I swear they all have a group chat going and they plan who will reach out and when and they place bets on what my reaction to each of them will be. That all seems more likely than it being a strange coincidence every so often.

Recently this happened. I got five of them this time. Five. Five sad, pathetic, desperate assholes that I have gone on dates with or dated exclusively. Five sad, pathetic mistakes. Why do they do this though!? It’s over. It has ended. Whatever we had is done. Why reach out again? Why pick that scab? Slap some Neosporin on that shit and hope it doesn’t leave a scar after it heals. Forget about it. But no. No, no, no. They like picking at shit and watching it bleed. Sickos.

One of the guys to reach out recently was the goldfish which I wrote about last week. Stay tuned for part two of his return. I also received a Facebook friend request from the 6’4″, fat, 40 something, ginger I dated a few years ago for a couple months. He drinks like a 21 year old frat boy and likes wearing women’s panties. I did not accept his request. Another reached out via text to just say, “hey.” It’s been five years, dickwad. Come up with something more creative if you want to get my attention. Also, did you forget that the last time we saw each other was when you were breaking into my apartment and I had to repeatedly slam your hand in my door until you dropped the secret set of keys you made? The police were called. Move along, psycho. Another ex boyfriend sent me a long email (since I blocked him from all social media besides LinkedIn maybe) and he had love song after love song attached in the email. We saw each other for three months. Three. Three mother fucking months. There were eight songs in the email. Calm down, homie. It was not that serious. Plus, you cheated on me with girls you met on sex hookup websites regularly. Guilty. Case closed. Last, but not the least creepy or annoying, was the guy who would never call me his girlfriend. We dated on and off, long distance for years but he never wanted a girlfriend. The day I let him go and stopped trying, I swear it flipped a switch in brain that told him to cling to me and mate for eternity. He slid into my DM’s asking when he can come stay with me now that I’m single. Never. The answer is fucking NEVER. Ever. This is not Hotel Erin. I do not run an Airbnb. Also, my dogs don’t like you and they like everyone, just like Justin Bieber’s momma.

To all ladies and gentlemen readi… Scratch that.

To all you assholes male, female or other, if you think it’s a good idea to reach back out to someone you used to date, stop and think about why you stopped dating. I want you to REALLY think about it. All aspects of it. How was it great? How was it bad? Why did it end? How did you feel? Were police involved? Was there blood or broken bones? Was anything on fire? Did you get an STD? Once you ask yourself every question about the relationship you had, I think you’ll realize that reaching out to pick that fucking scab again is a bad, bad, BAD idea. Erase it from your mind. Forget about that scab and keep moving forward. No turning back. Ever.

If you love someone, let them go. If they return, they were always yours. If they don’t, they never were. Or, if you love someone let them go. If they return, no one else wanted them. Better yet, just let everyone go and sit at home between your dogs, drinking wine and blogging. Dating fucking sucks.

The ice cream man

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After weeks of not getting enough attention from my “boyfriends” and nearly two months of having no sex, I decided it was time to swipe. Swiping used to be something I did as often as I breathed when I was newly single. After a while though, my swiping happened about as often as I mopped my floors, which was rarely.

I matched with a guy that night and we talked until after 4am. Both of us were shocked by this because we never chatted so much with people on dating apps and definitely never had so much fun doing it that we didn’t want to stop to sleep. He was also divorced, loved dogs, baseball, art and painting. He was in real estate and owned some investment properties and said he and his friends basically tried to work as little as possible all summer. (#lifegoals) Although, while my other hobbies include blogging, running and doing yoga, he was more into racing motorcycles, volunteering at PAWS and boating in his free time. And then I fell in love… (But seriously, what the hell is the deal with all these guys on Tinder and Bumble who have boats and why do I match with all of them? I must smell like Lake Michigan and they’re instantly attracted. Maybe…?) Everything about him seemed perfect until he called himself the Hugh Hefner of real estate and said he was surrounded by beautiful buildings instead of beautiful women. I gave him a pass on this lame ass comment because of the regular volunteering at PAWS.

A week went by and we chatted regularly, most often until close to 5am. One night around 3am, we both wanted tacos and ice cream. He lived nearby and told me to meet him at 7-11. He honestly asked me to walk 15 minutes to 7-11…at 3am…for some fuckin’ Ben & Jerry’s. Although the Pistachio Pistachio was screaming my name for all of Lakeview to hear, I opted to stay in my bed. This is when he tells me he already hopped in his Range Rover to drive (1/2 a block) to the convenience store to get ice cream. Instead of picking me up to get some or buying some for me and dropping it off, he took pictures of the icy pints of cookie dough and pistachio and sent them to me and told me he’d save my ice cream at his place for whenever I come over. Well isn’t that some bullshit??

A few days later after making plans to go check out the Navy Pier fireworks with one of my “boyfriends”, the plans fell through so I texted the ice cream man to see what he was up to. He invited me to meet him and some friends at Diversey Yacht Club. I walked over there after work and drank tequila cocktails and ate M&M’s with him and his friends. All they did was talk shit to each other and laugh so hard their faces and stomachs hurt. Naturally, I fit right in and loved them. I still swear his best friend and I were separated at birth. She’s brutally honest and blunt and incredibly foul-mouthed. He had the best laugh though. The kind of laugh that you know is genuine. It starts with a smile that stretches wider than you’d think was possible and makes you close your eyes so tightly. It’s accompanied by a loud sound that can only come from deep in your belly and the laugh ends with a long sigh while you wipe away tears and lean forward, clutching your stomach. He had that kind of laugh. All night.

Finally someone suggested a late-night boat cruise. The water and weather were perfect for the first 20 minutes. On our way back, the winds changed and buckets of water were being poured on us while we slid and bounced around the back of the boat. When we came back to the dock, he disappeared for a long time and his friends asked me if I wanted to do a little bump. Who am I to turn down free coke? It would have been rude of me. I graciously accepted, put my soaking hair into a bun and put on someone’s dry hoodie and we all wiped the seats and tables down with towels so we could sit and hang out again. When he came back, he and I snuggled up under a blanket and all of us had another drink and talked on the back of the boat for a couple more hours. He and I were both yawning and then had a mini tickle fight to wake up a bit. Everyone else had enough blow in their systems to party all night, I’m sure.

I had to work in the morning and he offered to drive me home. I said goodbye to people I expected would be my life-long best friends forever. We all hugged and said we were looking forward to hanging out again soon and the ice cream man walked with me to his Range Rover, he opened the door for me and I hopped in. He took me to my place, hugged me goodbye and waited until I got inside. After I showered the dirty lake water off of my body and out of my hair, I texted him to say thanks for everything and of course, sarcastically tell him how boring he was. He responded with, “lol I’m fucking awesome and you know it. tonight was definitely a blast.”

What could have been a boring Wednesday night in, ended up being an unexpected, fun-filled adventure with great people and a guy that I could really like. Nights like that are what summers are all about. Spontaneity, fun, laughs. The next day I had a cancellation at work and still wanted that fucking ice cream. Since I knew he rarely worked and he also lived down the street from my salon, I texted to see if he wanted to check out the new gelato spot on Southport. No response. I assumed he must be busy actually working or he was on the boat. Either way he normally replied right away but I didn’t worry about it. I went to the French bakery with my friend and got myself a macaroon instead. Later that night I texted him while I was (actually) Netflixing and chillin’. Hours later, still no response.

I could have just let it go like that but I didn’t want to. How hard is it to just say you aren’t interested in someone? How hard is it to just reply to a fucking text? Not hard at all. I let him know those things and told him ignoring someone is rude (Why do I have to tell so many people this??) and I would have appreciated a little communication since we’re grown adults. I thanked him again for everything and wished him luck in the shitty world of dating and thanked him also for reminding me that I should give up on it. If guys were ice cream, Baskin Robbins doesn’t even have enough flavors for me. I think I’ve gone through all 31 and every last one sucks. I’d rather die a born-again virgin before I swipe again and meet another guy.

 

Not a gentleman

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The title of this post could apply to the vast majority of the guys on the planet I think but I’m referencing one douche in particular. Also, if I get yelled at by one more of you fuckers for not having a new post up by Monday night like I normally do, I might slap you. I went to a wedding for two good friends of mine Sunday that had the hashtag ‘Malortrimony’. I was told I was falling asleep at Gman afterward and had to be escorted home by my friend. Classy. So I literally could not EVEN on Monday. Death by Malort. I’m back now! Better than ever, so here ya go, you animals!

I matched with Brian in early May, after I got ghosted by Tristan the Christian. In just a few hours I decided Brian was the neediest guy ever. We messaged a lot while I was at my friend’s unicorn-themed birthday party/housewarming. He told me he’s looking for a girl who will text him all the time and commit to seeing him at least once a week. Calm your tits, bro. We haven’t even met yet and most people I know can’t handle seeing me even once a month. At least once a week sounds excessive. He was sending pictures nonstop and requesting that I do the same, which I happily did.

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I didn’t find him particularly attractive now though. All of his pictures on the dating app were older which is a common trend in online dating. The pictures he was sending now were in the moment, in bright sunlight and he looked far older than in his profile pictures. He also was sending me pictures from a funeral in Iowa which was disturbing. I’ve never seen someone look so happy at a funeral. Yuck.

We met not long after matching on Coffee Meets Bagel at Murphy’s for a couple drinks. It was ok but I wasn’t that into him. He was pretty mediocre in every way possible but I was at a point in my life where I thought I should give the basic guys more of a chance. He didn’t seem like he’d be an abusive psycho or cross-dressing sex-addict, which I was used to with most exes. When we left, he put himself in a cab and let me walk home alone at 11pm, despite the fact that I lived on the way to his place. Thanks a lot, winner. Quite the thoughtful guy. I didn’t have plans to see him again ever but he was texting me daily and sometimes I get bored so I usually responded.

One night I was not getting nearly enough dating app attention and I had a rough week. I legitimately wanted to watch a movie and cuddle with someone. I couldn’t remember the last time I cuddled with someone. It had honestly been years. He lived close so I figured I’d give it a shot and see what he said. He was just getting off the train, coming home from work. He said he could be at my place in a couple minutes. I couldn’t believe that actually worked. Surely this guy thinks that something else will be happening. He’d be so disappointed when I rejected his advances. I didn’t care.

We didn’t make it more than 15 minutes into the show I turned on before we were both asleep. We woke up a few hours later and I expected him to leave. Shockingly, he moved to the bedroom with me. “Uh-oh,” I thought, “Here’s where he tries to make a move and I have to send him on his way.” We passed out within seconds. In the morning, he kissed me on the cheek and hugged me goodbye so we could both get ready for work. What planet am I on?! What year is it!? What’s happening!? I met a good guy? Maybe this guy didn’t suck so much. I couldn’t believe the ‘come over and cuddle’ thing worked.

Shortly after this, he had to go away for a couple weeks for some military stuff. It was while he was away for this that things changed and he started sending me sexual messages. They weren’t too weird or perverted at first but it didn’t take long for that to escalate. He got upset after I told him I had gone on dates with other guys since I met him. The next thing I know, this “gentleman” was requesting pictures of nipples and vaginas. I laughed it off and changed the subject every time but he became more and more persistent and angry. He started asking me very personal questions that made me uncomfortable and then obsessively talked about threesomes. He repeatedly brought up the fact that I had gone on dates with people besides him so he knew I was a whore and that’s how he was going to treat me now.

Since when do people become exclusive after meeting one another two times!? What’s wrong with meeting other people when you’re single? This guy clearly has a few screws loose and I had to distance myself ASAP. I’ve had too many guys become obsessive and angry and disrespectful in my lifetime. I can finally see the patterns now and see the red flags right away. It only took, what feels like, a thousand fucking years. I have no more time to deal with assholes who want to degrade or control women because of their own anger issues or insecurities. I have no more patience to be kind and give someone the benefit of the doubt or any more than one chance. No forgives and forgets and no regrets. I wished him luck scoring some chicks for his threesome and started swiping around for my next cuddle buddy.