After being in a relationship for four years and suddenly being thrust into the adult dating pool is an odd feeling. There are so many things that I am curious about- one of which being online dating. Now, not to blow my own horn... but I don't NEED to be on a dating site. I can pick up a man the old fashioned way: when he is drunk at the bar.
My curiosity got the better of me recently and I signed up for "Plenty of Fish". I picked this site because it was free, which obviously ups my chances for freaks to contact me. Which a few have. I had a man tell me to "fuck off" within 24 hours. Mainly because I wasn't interested in him due to his poor spelling skills (he spelled Amish OMISH. Which not only makes him a poor speller, but also ignorant), although I am sure he had so much to offer if I had just looked past that.... damn.
Moving on.
I also had a man proposition me for sex by saying he would pay me $200 for 30 minutes of fun because I was so "smoking hot." What shocked me more was the fact that in his profile he stated that he had three younger sisters, so he knew a thing or two about how to treat a lady. Yep; every woman I know has always secretly dreamed of the day her prince charming would leap upon his white steed, ride over to her and throw money at her face while demanding a blow job.
Romance...
With that being said, I went against my best instinct and went out on my first online date tonight. John, 26, London England.
Not only did he have an accent that made me squeal with glee on the inside all night... but nothing went wrong. As I waited at the restaurant for him, I secretly hoped that he would turn out to be in his 50's or that he just lied about what he looked like (isn't that terrible?), but the guy checked out. He was funny, interesting, and a gentleman. He didn't try to slobber all over me or get me drunk.
So, the next big question is: why does that make me nervous?
Friday, July 23, 2010
Thursday, July 15, 2010
The Importance of Texting
I recently have found myself waist deep in a new type of relationship. Something with no strings, no drama, and very sexually charged.
I have found myself a "sexting" buddy.
I stumbled across said friend by no plan of my own. I have known him for years and just happened to run into him at a bar. We exchanged numbers and within six hours of doing so had started a digital love affair. Only dirtier.
To clear my record; I have never in my life done something like this. However, I have found that I really enjoy it for many reasons:
1) Safe sex. There is no worries of getting knocked up or diseased when your only contact is via phone.
2) Inhibitions are lost. With no actual face time, the things that I "say" sometimes surprise even myself...
3) Power. The amount of power I feel being able to turn a man on when we aren't even in the same area code is intense. And let's be honest, power is sexy.
4) Low maintenance. Listen, not that I don't take care of myself- but it is nice that I can have a good time without worrying about making sure my legs are shaved or if my lady is perfectly groomed. Just saying.
5) No awkward post-coitus moment. Nothing worse than that time span of five minutes (that feels like three hours) when you have just been intimate and are trying to devise your escape/ how to kick them out plan.
6) Sexual tension. Enough said I think.
My sexter seems to be enjoying himself as well, seeing that we have been texting one another for four solid days at this point. By the way that we both jumped head first into this bizaar situation, I feel as if we may get burnt out rather quickly. Luckily, I never really see him- so there is no fear of uncomfortable run-ins.
Either way, I think this is a win-win-win situation for all involved.
Namely me.
I have found myself a "sexting" buddy.
I stumbled across said friend by no plan of my own. I have known him for years and just happened to run into him at a bar. We exchanged numbers and within six hours of doing so had started a digital love affair. Only dirtier.
To clear my record; I have never in my life done something like this. However, I have found that I really enjoy it for many reasons:
1) Safe sex. There is no worries of getting knocked up or diseased when your only contact is via phone.
2) Inhibitions are lost. With no actual face time, the things that I "say" sometimes surprise even myself...
3) Power. The amount of power I feel being able to turn a man on when we aren't even in the same area code is intense. And let's be honest, power is sexy.
4) Low maintenance. Listen, not that I don't take care of myself- but it is nice that I can have a good time without worrying about making sure my legs are shaved or if my lady is perfectly groomed. Just saying.
5) No awkward post-coitus moment. Nothing worse than that time span of five minutes (that feels like three hours) when you have just been intimate and are trying to devise your escape/ how to kick them out plan.
6) Sexual tension. Enough said I think.
My sexter seems to be enjoying himself as well, seeing that we have been texting one another for four solid days at this point. By the way that we both jumped head first into this bizaar situation, I feel as if we may get burnt out rather quickly. Luckily, I never really see him- so there is no fear of uncomfortable run-ins.
Either way, I think this is a win-win-win situation for all involved.
Namely me.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
Double Header
The excitement was building so much for my date with the 40 year old, that I did something I wouldn't normally do- go on a spontaneous mini-date with him the day before. We met up Thursday night to get Italian Ice and a couple of drinks. Afterward, we took a nice stroll through the neighborhood.
It was a pretty good date; and by the time I got home I was grinning ear to ear with anticipation for the next night.
And then it all went downhill. Fast.
First of all, the man loves to talk. About himself mainly. Although he would occasionally throw in some terrible antidotes about things that had happened to him that he thought hilarious. He would eagerly offer up these morsels and then look to me with a look on his face like a child who just found and brought home a stray dog.
I; sadly enough, would have to play the part of the parent who isn't interested at all. I'm sorry, but I just am not interested in listening to you talk for 45 minutes about all the "hysterical and wonderful" things you did when you were dressed up as Jesus for Halloween. Especially after you so falsely claimed that it was a better costume than Beetlejuice was. I. Think. Not.
I won't bore you with the rest of the conversations, because I wouldn't want to put anyone though the same pain I had to endure. Instead, I will give you two of the most unappealing quotes that anyone could hear on a date:
1) (Setup: We are sitting watching Dancing in the Park where the 40 year old decides to tell me about a bus tour through New Zealand he took. Apparently he sat at the front of the bus talking to the tour guide while everyone else sat in the back. After this statement I understand why.)
"I was farting a lot. And the tour guide said 'Stop man!' And I told him that it wasn't me. But there was no one else around, so it was totally me."
2) (Setup: We were having dinner.)
"I was talking to my brother and he brought up baby powder. I told him the last time that I had used baby powder, I was 8 and he was 2 and I was using the powder on his little scrotum and butt-hole."
Farting, scrotum AND butt-holes? Oh please tell me more! Nothing makes me swoon over a man faster than the subjects of passing gas and semi-vulgar terminology of what lies beneath a baby's diaper. At least he realized that the second topic probably wasn't something he should bring up in front of a girl or at dinner. But in his words, "Oh well."
How does one possibly end such a date, you may ask. And I have a one word answer to that: drunk.
It was the only thing that made him bearable. Not my most shining moment, to be sure... but I was a lot shinier than he. Point in case? He texted me the next day telling me how much he enjoyed our date and if he could see me again. I have yet to text back, and at this point I feel more than comfortable becoming the immature 24 year old who doesn't respond.
It was a pretty good date; and by the time I got home I was grinning ear to ear with anticipation for the next night.
And then it all went downhill. Fast.
First of all, the man loves to talk. About himself mainly. Although he would occasionally throw in some terrible antidotes about things that had happened to him that he thought hilarious. He would eagerly offer up these morsels and then look to me with a look on his face like a child who just found and brought home a stray dog.
I; sadly enough, would have to play the part of the parent who isn't interested at all. I'm sorry, but I just am not interested in listening to you talk for 45 minutes about all the "hysterical and wonderful" things you did when you were dressed up as Jesus for Halloween. Especially after you so falsely claimed that it was a better costume than Beetlejuice was. I. Think. Not.
I won't bore you with the rest of the conversations, because I wouldn't want to put anyone though the same pain I had to endure. Instead, I will give you two of the most unappealing quotes that anyone could hear on a date:
1) (Setup: We are sitting watching Dancing in the Park where the 40 year old decides to tell me about a bus tour through New Zealand he took. Apparently he sat at the front of the bus talking to the tour guide while everyone else sat in the back. After this statement I understand why.)
"I was farting a lot. And the tour guide said 'Stop man!' And I told him that it wasn't me. But there was no one else around, so it was totally me."
2) (Setup: We were having dinner.)
"I was talking to my brother and he brought up baby powder. I told him the last time that I had used baby powder, I was 8 and he was 2 and I was using the powder on his little scrotum and butt-hole."
Farting, scrotum AND butt-holes? Oh please tell me more! Nothing makes me swoon over a man faster than the subjects of passing gas and semi-vulgar terminology of what lies beneath a baby's diaper. At least he realized that the second topic probably wasn't something he should bring up in front of a girl or at dinner. But in his words, "Oh well."
How does one possibly end such a date, you may ask. And I have a one word answer to that: drunk.
It was the only thing that made him bearable. Not my most shining moment, to be sure... but I was a lot shinier than he. Point in case? He texted me the next day telling me how much he enjoyed our date and if he could see me again. I have yet to text back, and at this point I feel more than comfortable becoming the immature 24 year old who doesn't respond.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Homerun
My friend Tommy asked me to join him for a Sox game a few days ago. Seeing as it is summer, I disregarded the fact that I am typically a Cubbies fan and joined him. After a bit of tailgating with my friend Mike, a delcious pretzel, an awkward boy winking good bye at me, and eight innings of pure butt kicking (the Sox really did dominate) we decided to leave before the crowds were unleashed into the streets.
As we made our way to the train, I see a man out of the corner of my eye that catches my attention. The look on his face said that I had also caught his. He and his friend follow us closely all the way until I finally found a seat on the el platform. As we waited for the train and fireworks were being set off behind us (the Sox let off fireworks at a lot of their games) the man who caught my attention simply asks, "What? You don't like fireworks?"
This sparked a long conversation that lasted well past waiting for the train and continued through out our train ride back to the North Side. As my stop was nearing, he casually asked me for my number. I thought this was acceptable for four reasons. The first two are key- but I think that the second two are much more important:
1) I found him attractive.
2) I had been having fun talking to him.
3) As we were talking at one point, spittle flew out of my mouth like a rouge soldier and landed on my chin. I quickly tried to wipe it away without being obvious of what had just happened. He wasn't phased.
4) While on the train, I turned around to flash him a smile right as an old lady was moving forward. She totally decked me in the eye, causing it to water for about five minutes. This is what I get for trying to be cute and flirt- punched in the eye. Either way, we laughed it off and made a joke out of it. He did not seem alarmed by the fact that I could get beat up by a 72 year old.
He texted me back within an hour which suddenly turned into a phone conversation that lasted a remarkable three and a half hours. We set up a date for Friday, and I am rather excited about it.
Sounds perfect, right? Well... here's the kicker:
He's 40.
I'm 24.
That's a pretty huge age gap. Especially considering that he is closer to my mom's age by 5 years than to mine. Yes, I did the math, thank you for asking. You would too if you were in this situation. Moving on.
Last night, I lay awake wondering how much of an age gap is too large to cross? I have currently been thinking about trying to date someone close to 30... but 40? It seems like it could be dating suicide for both of us right off the bat.
I feel as if this type of questioning could be a deal breaker to a lot of people, but I think I am going to go ahead with the date and see what an older man has to offer. The worst thing that could happen is that I realize he really is too old for me or that we have nothing in common.
And honestly, how much different is that from going on a date with someone my own age?
As we made our way to the train, I see a man out of the corner of my eye that catches my attention. The look on his face said that I had also caught his. He and his friend follow us closely all the way until I finally found a seat on the el platform. As we waited for the train and fireworks were being set off behind us (the Sox let off fireworks at a lot of their games) the man who caught my attention simply asks, "What? You don't like fireworks?"
This sparked a long conversation that lasted well past waiting for the train and continued through out our train ride back to the North Side. As my stop was nearing, he casually asked me for my number. I thought this was acceptable for four reasons. The first two are key- but I think that the second two are much more important:
1) I found him attractive.
2) I had been having fun talking to him.
3) As we were talking at one point, spittle flew out of my mouth like a rouge soldier and landed on my chin. I quickly tried to wipe it away without being obvious of what had just happened. He wasn't phased.
4) While on the train, I turned around to flash him a smile right as an old lady was moving forward. She totally decked me in the eye, causing it to water for about five minutes. This is what I get for trying to be cute and flirt- punched in the eye. Either way, we laughed it off and made a joke out of it. He did not seem alarmed by the fact that I could get beat up by a 72 year old.
He texted me back within an hour which suddenly turned into a phone conversation that lasted a remarkable three and a half hours. We set up a date for Friday, and I am rather excited about it.
Sounds perfect, right? Well... here's the kicker:
He's 40.
I'm 24.
That's a pretty huge age gap. Especially considering that he is closer to my mom's age by 5 years than to mine. Yes, I did the math, thank you for asking. You would too if you were in this situation. Moving on.
Last night, I lay awake wondering how much of an age gap is too large to cross? I have currently been thinking about trying to date someone close to 30... but 40? It seems like it could be dating suicide for both of us right off the bat.
I feel as if this type of questioning could be a deal breaker to a lot of people, but I think I am going to go ahead with the date and see what an older man has to offer. The worst thing that could happen is that I realize he really is too old for me or that we have nothing in common.
And honestly, how much different is that from going on a date with someone my own age?
Friday, July 2, 2010
It's about to get X-rated
It has officially been a month since I have had a special visit with my dear friend; "The Bad Decision" as some weird things were said and done the last time I went over there. Mainly the fact that I (jokingly) asked if he was trying to get me pregnant and he just grinned.
OH HELL NO.
In order to make sure that I was in the safe zone, I made a slight promise with God that if he didn't make a baby grown inside of me, then I wouldn't sleep with "The Bad Decision" again. So far we have both kept our end of the deal.
To celebrate, I decided I would go see another friend of mine. We will call him "25". Not because of his age, per se, but because that is the percentage he racked up on "Nicole's List of Shallow Needs". He is an old friend who became a new kind of friend as soon as he moved to Chicago. And by "as soon as" I mean I helped him move his stuff into his apartment and then we did it in his unfurnished bedroom.
I digress; I haven't seen 25 in three months so I obviously had given up on him since he wasn't giving me the attention I wanted. You can imagine my surprise when he starts talking to me and
asking about my blog. He wants to know if he is any of the people on it.
Um... no, you haven't been around in a quarter of a year.
25 invites me over the next night. Why? I am pretty sure he wanted to be in my blog. And I go. Why? Because we have already established it had been a month since I had gotten laid.
The romp was satisfactory, and what 25 lacks in expertise (he is a couple years younger than me, after all) he makes up for in passion and spirit. I have never had a person try and flip me around like a circus acrobat quite as much as he does in the sack, which is always fun. Although sometimes a little dangerous.
Afterward, I made my trip home. For some reason I have gotten into this odd habit of staying the night with my special friends and that is obviously a hazard to my health as well as my sleeping patterns. Upon reflection, I realized that I was making a huge mistake and made sure
that my new rule is no sleeping over. Unless it's really late. Or I'm drunk. Or he has a sleep number bed.
It's always good to have some set boundaries, right?
OH HELL NO.
In order to make sure that I was in the safe zone, I made a slight promise with God that if he didn't make a baby grown inside of me, then I wouldn't sleep with "The Bad Decision" again. So far we have both kept our end of the deal.
To celebrate, I decided I would go see another friend of mine. We will call him "25". Not because of his age, per se, but because that is the percentage he racked up on "Nicole's List of Shallow Needs". He is an old friend who became a new kind of friend as soon as he moved to Chicago. And by "as soon as" I mean I helped him move his stuff into his apartment and then we did it in his unfurnished bedroom.
I digress; I haven't seen 25 in three months so I obviously had given up on him since he wasn't giving me the attention I wanted. You can imagine my surprise when he starts talking to me and
asking about my blog. He wants to know if he is any of the people on it.
Um... no, you haven't been around in a quarter of a year.
25 invites me over the next night. Why? I am pretty sure he wanted to be in my blog. And I go. Why? Because we have already established it had been a month since I had gotten laid.
The romp was satisfactory, and what 25 lacks in expertise (he is a couple years younger than me, after all) he makes up for in passion and spirit. I have never had a person try and flip me around like a circus acrobat quite as much as he does in the sack, which is always fun. Although sometimes a little dangerous.
Afterward, I made my trip home. For some reason I have gotten into this odd habit of staying the night with my special friends and that is obviously a hazard to my health as well as my sleeping patterns. Upon reflection, I realized that I was making a huge mistake and made sure
that my new rule is no sleeping over. Unless it's really late. Or I'm drunk. Or he has a sleep number bed.
It's always good to have some set boundaries, right?
Monday, June 28, 2010
Check and List
As I established in my last post, "A" is history. However, it was as if he could smell the rejection through the phone waves and he upped his game by texting and calling me several times over the next few days. There was nothing of importance in any of them; in fact, most of them consisted of him trying to make last minute plans- as if I didn't have anything else to do with my life but wait around for when he actually got his act together. Needless to say, I didn't respond.
However, it got me to thinking: it was hard for me to just shut "A" out, even though he was not what I wanted in a man. Why is that? Do I like a challenge? The attention? Is it the fact that I knew it wouldn't go anywhere, so I felt safe with that?
Maybe what I really need is a checklist of things to look for in a man. I know several women have something like this and can include things that are logical (Can protect me from the dangers of the night) and the profound (Would make a good father). I don't roll that way. So here I present to you; "Nicole's Shallow List of Needs":
1) He should be 6' or taller. Nothing is sexier than a man that towers over me and makes me feel like a woman.
2) He should have a banging body. In the past I have dated men skinnier than me or (in one specific case) had muscles AND a gut. "How does that work?" you may ask. My answer? "No fucking clue." This time around I want a man who has a stomach/ chest that makes me tremble when I look at it.
3) He should have an accent. Irish or English is preferred. However, the less I can understand the more appealing you become. Keeps that mystery alive.
4) He should know how to dress himself. More importantly, he should wear a suit (or business wear) to work. I'm not sure why, but a man in a good tie and dress slacks gets me every time. Which is why the commute to work in the morning is so much fun.
5) He should probably have dark hair. Although I don't discriminate against other hues.
6) He should look good enough with me that when we walk by everyone else feels a bubble of jealousy of how damn adorable we are- separate and together.
So, do me a favor and comb the streets of where you live to find this man. If he doesn't live in Chicago, that's okay- we can just use some sort of overnight-express-get-him-to-me-now shipping.
Until then, I will just keep entertaining myself with these jokers...
However, it got me to thinking: it was hard for me to just shut "A" out, even though he was not what I wanted in a man. Why is that? Do I like a challenge? The attention? Is it the fact that I knew it wouldn't go anywhere, so I felt safe with that?
Maybe what I really need is a checklist of things to look for in a man. I know several women have something like this and can include things that are logical (Can protect me from the dangers of the night) and the profound (Would make a good father). I don't roll that way. So here I present to you; "Nicole's Shallow List of Needs":
1) He should be 6' or taller. Nothing is sexier than a man that towers over me and makes me feel like a woman.
2) He should have a banging body. In the past I have dated men skinnier than me or (in one specific case) had muscles AND a gut. "How does that work?" you may ask. My answer? "No fucking clue." This time around I want a man who has a stomach/ chest that makes me tremble when I look at it.
3) He should have an accent. Irish or English is preferred. However, the less I can understand the more appealing you become. Keeps that mystery alive.
4) He should know how to dress himself. More importantly, he should wear a suit (or business wear) to work. I'm not sure why, but a man in a good tie and dress slacks gets me every time. Which is why the commute to work in the morning is so much fun.
5) He should probably have dark hair. Although I don't discriminate against other hues.
6) He should look good enough with me that when we walk by everyone else feels a bubble of jealousy of how damn adorable we are- separate and together.
So, do me a favor and comb the streets of where you live to find this man. If he doesn't live in Chicago, that's okay- we can just use some sort of overnight-express-get-him-to-me-now shipping.
Until then, I will just keep entertaining myself with these jokers...
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
"A" stands for annoying, aggrivating, absurd, etc.
After the weirdness of "A's" voice mail last night, I decided to take matters into my own hands. I opted for texting, although as impersonal as a date in public (according to Mike from the Passion Pit Show) it would protect me from straining to understand his mumbling over the phone and listening to him sound like he was getting kicked in the gut repeatedly. However, there was no way I could anticipate the difficulty of getting a man who has tried to contact me three times within four days to ask me out. The text conversation follows:
Me: Sorry I missed ur call yesterday. Was out w my friend.
A: I'm glad you survived the storm :)
Me: Yeah it was a pretty nasty one
A: I remember u mentioning u were going out, how are you?
Me: I'm doing well. and how are you this fine evening?
A: Yes it was, well we got some fresh air now... (I mean, who doesn't comment on the freshness of the air via text?)
A: I'm good, just a little mad I couldn't finish my soccer game :(. Yes it turn out a really nice evening.
Me: Why couldn't you finish it?
A: I was actually gonna call but I thought u might be busy, when can I see you? If possible...:) (SUCCESS!)
A: It was outdoors and the storm just dropped on us! :(
Me: I'm sorry to hear that. It would be great to get together... possibly this weekend?
A: That sounds good, how was your day? (Excuse me? That's it? Are you KIDDING ME?)
Me: Nothing too eventful. So did you want to make plans?
13 minutes later...
A: Yes I do want to
Me: (SCREAMING IN MY HEAD)
A: I'd like that...:)
Me: (GASPING FOR AIR)
Me: Well? Pick a time or something
A: Ok, I'm pretty open as far as time. I don't really know what u like to do so I could use some help... if you don't mind?
Me: Saturday? Dinner? Or maybe a movie?
34 minutes later...
A: Sounds good! I'm off to bed good night.
SERIOUSLY?
Moral of the story? I choose option "B", whatever that is. There is no point in wasting any more of my time with a man who can't even set a time to see me.
Me: Sorry I missed ur call yesterday. Was out w my friend.
A: I'm glad you survived the storm :)
Me: Yeah it was a pretty nasty one
A: I remember u mentioning u were going out, how are you?
Me: I'm doing well. and how are you this fine evening?
A: Yes it was, well we got some fresh air now... (I mean, who doesn't comment on the freshness of the air via text?)
A: I'm good, just a little mad I couldn't finish my soccer game :(. Yes it turn out a really nice evening.
Me: Why couldn't you finish it?
A: I was actually gonna call but I thought u might be busy, when can I see you? If possible...:) (SUCCESS!)
A: It was outdoors and the storm just dropped on us! :(
Me: I'm sorry to hear that. It would be great to get together... possibly this weekend?
A: That sounds good, how was your day? (Excuse me? That's it? Are you KIDDING ME?)
Me: Nothing too eventful. So did you want to make plans?
13 minutes later...
A: Yes I do want to
Me: (SCREAMING IN MY HEAD)
A: I'd like that...:)
Me: (GASPING FOR AIR)
Me: Well? Pick a time or something
A: Ok, I'm pretty open as far as time. I don't really know what u like to do so I could use some help... if you don't mind?
Me: Saturday? Dinner? Or maybe a movie?
34 minutes later...
A: Sounds good! I'm off to bed good night.
SERIOUSLY?
Moral of the story? I choose option "B", whatever that is. There is no point in wasting any more of my time with a man who can't even set a time to see me.
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