Category Archives: Funny

If I spoke to people about their careers, the way they speak to me about mine… – The Librarian

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You’re an engineer? I hate trains.

You went to school to be a lawyer? Seriously? Why do you need a degree for that?

You’re an architect? I love Legos! It must be so much fun to build things with them all day!

Why would you become a teacher? Doesn’t everyone just Google everything now?

How old do kids have to be to be left at the bank?

Wow. I would hate to be a cop and just sit in a car all day. That sounds so boring.

Wait. Pharmacies still exist? There are still actual pharmacists?

A meteorologist? Isn’t there, like, an app for that now?

You’re a radio show host? Does anyone even listen to the radio anymore?

Nursing? Huh. Do you think you’ll still have a job in 10 years? I mean, everybody can just buy their medicine and bandages over the counter now.

Damn. You really fit the Sexy Logistician stereotype.

Accountant? Who even uses numbers anymore?

No offense… it’s just… what do you do all day?

Textersation Tuesday

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08-21-14

This one requires a disclaimer. Gail and I are both extremely pro-breastfeeding. That’s their friggin’ purpose. I don’t even care if I catch a glimpse of your nipple in public, as long as it’s because you’re feeding your baby and not using him as a prop to make a point, which seems to be a prevalent attitude these days. Gail knows this, so I didn’t have to qualify my whopping exaggeration of “most women” to her.

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08-25-14

08-27-14

Staring Down the Barrel of 30… at 27?

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Me: “He’s 29 years old, lives with his mother, and plays video games all day. He is staring down the barrel of 30 and has nothing to show for it.”
Gail: “Wooooow. That is a really unhealthy way to think about your 30’s.”

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My 27th birthday is just a couple of weeks away. I’m big on birthdays. Every year, I exhaust Gail with birthday hoopla and insistence that we celebrate not just mine, but also hers a few weeks later. Not only is it a holiday that’s all yours, it’s also a time for reflection. Reflection is sort of like a self-imposed grading system and there’s nothing I like more than grades, y’all.

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So birthdays, for me, are a time to judge my accomplishments thus far and set new goals for the next year. Most people have a list of things to accomplish by 30. I have a list of things to accomplish by 27 and a half. For now, however, I think I’m just going to start with the things that I should probably stop doing before everyone in town releases their fire lit lantern into the sky on the eve of my 30th birthday.

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Gaily, I’d like to take this opportunity to remind you that, in addition to bridal and baby showers, coordination of the Synchronized 30th Birthday Disney Lantern Release, also falls to you.

… using the phrase “superraped” to describe a dangerous situation. i.e. “I am so going to get superraped.”

… ironically answering the phone with “Whaddup gangsta?”

… using Xenon’s “zetus lapetus” as a swear word.

… excitedly exclaiming “Oh em jingles!”

… typing out “bee tea double ewe” in text messages.

… watching (and reciting) Hocus Pocus more than 20 times per year.

… arguing with people about Titanic.

… marathoning CW teen dramas and declaring myself a team member. C’mon, Elena. TEAM DAMON!

… engaging people in the Superman vs. Batman debate, only to angrily shout that Superman wins “… BECAUSE HE’S SUPERMAN!”

… deciding a man is just not right for me, because he clearly hasn’t researched the above Superman vs. Batman topic enough for an educated discussion.
* I’m sorry, but he used the phrase “brain beats brawn.” Duuuuuude. No. Superman absorbed all of the knowledge of Krypton, a far more advanced civilization, which included Einstein’s Theory of Relativity. Jor El programmed it into his ship, so he knew those things by age three. I don’t care which private school Bruce Wayne went to, he’s not beating that.

… calling everyone dude for emphasis. i.e. “Duuuuuude. No.”

… referring to sketchy scenes as “a wee bit rapey.”

… blurting “That’s what she said!” to the wrong audience. “No, Gramma. It’s a joke. You see, you don’t mean it sexually, but it can be taken that way… never mind.”

… shouting “Emotions belong with the last fucking Horcrux!” when things get dramatic.

… reading fiction that almost exclusively costs 99 cents on Amazon, because it’s about an alien race that saved the people of earth for the low, low cost of our ladies.

… only getting 2 hours of sleep, because I’m almost done yarn bombing the living room, while whispering “… just one more episode.”

… hoarding original packaging and warranty information for everything. Was I really planning to return the kitchen knives I got for Christmas three years ago?

… going to the grocery store just for the free samples and leaving with a bag of cheese cubes and dried okra.

… driving 20 miles to the mall to get assorted bags of candy.

… somehow offending people in sex shops.

… addressing problems with the phrase “I tried to make it better. That wasn’t working, so I figured I might as well make it worse.”

… picking fights with Jane about Disney.

… provoking strangers in sports bars, when they cheer for free throws and field goals, by drunkenly ranting about the Trophy Generation.

… using the phrases “sucks balls” and “go suck a bag of dicks.”

… trying to talk unwitting people into watching Human Centipede, by insisting it’s “a tale of surgical exploration and sensual teamwork.”

That, folks, is how I am going to become one classy lady… in three years.

Best and Worst Places to Date Online: An Unashamed Review

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Unlike a lot of singles, I am not shy about my online dating. I’ll openly admit that I date online, because I think it’s far less pathetic than complaining that I haven’t met anyone, because I’m not even trying. I go to bars. I drink. I flirt. I have nights out with Gail and Catherine. I try to talk to people at church, if I don’t have to rush to the library immediately afterwards. I mingle at work functions. I wear dresses nearly every day of the week, so I always look like I’m putting in more effort than I really am. In short, while I do date online, I also have a full life. I think that if more people would openly admit that the two aren’t mutually exclusive, all of these attached people, who met in the days of Central Perk and MacLaren’s, would stop assuming all online daters look like this…

I’m always amused by how many women hesitantly admit to online dating after hearing a few of my stories. Read some statistics, y’all! It’s what the cool kids do: read statistics AND date online, that is.

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So, because of my openness, it’s not uncommon for people to ask what sites I use. Recently, I realized that I’ve used just about all of them. I’ve also realized that my readers, who often come for the online dating humor and stay for my inability to take anything else seriously, might benefit from an honest, experienced review. In addition, I’ll add one simple piece of overall advice. Always buy the bulk pack on any online dating site. It takes time to meet someone with whom you have any chemistry, even if it’s just online, and even more time to set a date to meet. The objective is to go on as many first dates as possible, until you find someone with whom you’d like a second date, so never sign up for less than six months. It won’t be worth it and you’ll end up wishing you’d just spent that extra $20, when your 30 days are up.

Plenty of Fish

Highlights:
It’s free.
You don’t need a screen name and can window shop anonymously.

Plenty of Fish is the Xanga you created in the 9th grade and completely forgot. It’s a mess and no improvements have been made to it in the two years I’ve been on it, which is a lifetime when it comes to the Internet. The Advanced Search option will remember everything you specify except religion, which I have trouble believing is an accident. The matches given appear to be completely random, because they rarely even fit the desired age range listed, let alone relationship status or common interests.

When you create your profile, you’re allowed to add up to 8 photos, the first of which must clearly display your face. This isn’t enforced particularly well, so you still get matches who appear to be muscle cars or white domestic shorthairs. The standards for your matches are set remarkably low with questions like “Do you have a car?” and they don’t have a character limit under the About Me section, so you’ll spend a lot of your time screaming “JUST FILL OUT THE FUCKING PROFILE!” at the computer, because that’s the 14th time you’ve seen nothing but “Ask me.”

That being said, I’ve met some nice guys on Plenty of Fish, who were genuinely seeking something serious. I’ve also met some bags of dicks who asked if I’d like to buy some weight loss supplements.

Summary: It’s free, so why not?

OKCupid

Highlights:
It’s free.
It’s set up much like many paid sites.

OKCupid is a much more impressive effort at a free dating site than Plenty of Fish. Here, you lose the ability to anonymously window shop, unless you make a fake profile, but said profile comes complete with the option to answer user created questions and compare them to those of others. These questions can be really useful in discerning political, faith, ethical, or even sexual differences. They can also be bizarrely personal and inappropriate, so your abortion dilemma may be directly followed by an ass to mouth dilemma. Fortunately, you can skip questions and your answers can only be read by those who have also answered. Unfortunately, it’s suuuuuper awkward to go on a first date with a man, when you know he’s tried anal.

Each match on OKCupid comes with a percentage, based solely on the aforementioned questions. I’m not a statistician, but I’d still recommend taking these numbers with a grain of salt and reading individual responses. Some questions are less important than others, particularly if you answered them a while back, after binge watching Bewitched and deciding that the man really should be the head of the household. There are a lot fewer men on OKCupid who’ve left their entire profiles blank, but it’s still a free dating site. This means plenty of unemployed and/or married men, so it pays to read every bit of information given.

Summary: This is a great introductory to online dating, because it doesn’t cost a dime, but comes with an interface similar to paid sites.

Tinder

Highlights:
It’s a free phone app.
You sign in through Facebook, but it won’t post to your page.

Tinder is just the place for “ask me” guy. It requires nothing but a Facebook login, from which it pulls your age, gender, About Me, and a few photos. The last two can be edited. Once you’ve logged in, you’re given photos of users in your area and age range, which is set to everyone as an alterable default. Each photo allows you to swipe left for no and right for yes. If you tap the photo, you’ll get any others that have been added and if you’re super lucky, a short bio. Most of these are blank, but some include helpful tidbits, like the fact that this guy is in a plural marriage or wants to “see your tits.” That’s right, you’re basing all interest almost purely on appearance. It’s a great way to feel better about yourself if you’re even mildly aesthetically pleasing. It’s also a great way to view an accidental dick pic.

The real problem with Tinder is that no one takes it seriously. You’ll see guys from other sites, where they’ve put in real effort, and they’ll leave zero information here. The perks of online dating, like weeding out the unemployed and guys with No Fat Chicks paragraphs, don’t apply. If you do try to use it as a legitimate dating tool, you have to cover all of the important things in conversation and you’ll feel like an ass when you stop talking to a guy, because he’s just an assembly line worker or has two different baby mommas. Unless you’re looking for a hookup, Tinder serves no real relationship purpose. We’re all just bored and shallow and this is where we hang out now, because there’s no cover charge and we don’t have to wear pants.

Summary: If you need a laugh, it’s free, so why not?

Catholic Match

Highlights:
While the service costs the same as most sites, proceeds benefit the Church.
There are approximately 28 people in my area.

Catholic Match requires subscribers to answer questions specific to the Church, such as whether they accept mandates on contraception and are free to marry in the faith. In theory, it would’ve been a great way to find someone who lined up perfectly with my religious beliefs. In reality, Catholic Match was a terrific opportunity to view the profiles of the 14 Catholic men in my area and age range, who haven’t been called to the Priesthood. If I lived in a different part of the country, say Massachusetts, which has the largest concentration of Catholics in the nation, I’d be on kid number three by now. Get it? Because we’re Catholic? Anyway, here in the South, Catholic Match was just far too specific, as I imagine JDate would be, as well. I don’t regret trying it, because the proceeds benefited the Church, but I also did not get even one date in my six months as a paid member.

Summary: If Catholicism is important to you, make sure that there’s more than one place in your city to buy a Rosary, before subscribing.

Christian Mingle

Highlights:
It costs about the same as other dating sites.
Choices are fewer.
You’re encouraged to be pickier about things, when you wouldn’t normally care.

I tried Christian Mingle, because I figured I’d be religious specific, without being denomination specific and get more results. Sadly, it’s just like any other dating site, only judgier. Even if you wouldn’t typically mind denomination or relationship status or children, it’s hard not to notice and form opinions, because the information is displayed so clearly in a religious environment that encourages you to find a religious match. You fill out the same profile that you do anywhere else, only you’re asked which church you attend: quite specific information that you shouldn’t divulge to strangers who might be crazy. There are chat rooms and message boards available to subscribers, but they don’t work well and there are free Christian social networking options all over the Internet. However, they can be helpful for questions like “What is wrong with my profile?” and “Would you date a virgin?” Additionally, the staff encourages responses to every message, regardless of interest. Come, now. We all know the rules of online dating: whoever loses interest first, wins. Also, no one wants the Thanks, but No Thanks email. That’s just rude.

As a divorced, 26-year-old, Catholic girl in the South, I’ve no idea what I was thinking when I decided to try Christian Mingle. Again, even when you wouldn’t care about such things normally, Christian Mingle is pressuring you to find a very specific match. If I’m going to date a Methodist, why not find him on OKCupid? We’re in the Bible Belt. It wouldn’t be that hard. I suppose that one of the reasons I decided to try this site was the sheer number of men only interested in hook ups. I figured a Jesus-centered dating service would at least get me respectful men. WRONG. I never had a single date from Christian Mingle and one of the two men I ever texted asked, completely off topic, how short my shortest dresses were and if I enjoyed giving and receiving massages.

Summary: If you’re a single, virginal Christian girl in the South… you probably don’t need Christian Mingle, because there are plenty of opportunities in this area to meet other Christians and they’re free.

eHarmony

Highlights:
It’s the most expensive mainstream dating site.
There is no browsing. You can only look at assigned matches.

eHarmony will spend your entire subscription period telling you that there is no one out there for you, because you’re just too danged picky. No really. Despite my acceptance of all denominations of Christianity (ubiquitous in these parts), all races, and all men who will consider having children, several times a week, I still get an email telling me that my distance limitations are just too specific. At the moment, they’re strictly set at 60 miles. I live in a suburb of a thriving metropolis. Sixty miles in any direction gives me a lot of people… but no. eHarmony can’t find anyone in a 60 mile radius that could be a possible match. If I loosen the parameters, I get men in other states, which is not a minor thing in the middle of the country. This ain’t Jersey, folks. I can’t just drive to New York to meet a great guy. When I do get matches (maybe once a week), they’re usually identified as not being quite what I was seeking, which means they’re younger than I, have no photo, or might want kids. In fact, the one man I did meet was awful. He was one of my least compatible and worst dates ever. Consequently, several times a week, eHarmony gets an email telling them how much they suck and that I’ll never recommend them or subscribe to them again.

Summary: If it’s given as a gift, say thank you, but don’t expect to mean it, unless you’re perfectly willing to relocate for luuuuuuv.

Match

Highlights:
Online coupons and bulk rates make it reasonably affordable.
Matches must be able to afford the subscription fee.

My first year of Match.com has just expired. I signed up for the 6 Month Match Guarantee one year ago, after my GP acted shocked and amazed that I wasn’t getting laid, right before my birthday. Thanks a heap, Doc. I wasn’t already having trouble with entering the last half of my twenties. Anyhoo, the guarantee required that I contact at least five new people each month, keep my profile visible, and always have a photo displayed. Included, was a monthly progress bar, verifying what still needed to be done. After six months, in which I admit I really didn’t even use the subscription, I was offered a free six month renewal and accepted. Because of a coupon code I found online, I paid only $76 for the entire year. Yes, I’m still single, but I must say, it was worth it.

Match.com combines the best features of all of the above sites. By charging a fee, it weeds out most “students” or unemployed men. By keeping the fee affordable, there are still plenty of matches available. Each match has a percentage, rating compatibility. Though daily matches are provided for approval or dismissal, they don’t necessarily match up with your specifications. While you can’t cater said matches to your choice of height, relationship status, or religious denomination, you can easily perform and save searches specific to all. Important information cannot be left blank, so there is no “ask me,” and instead just the occasional “I’m only filling this out, because there’s a character limit.” Dude, why did you pay for this?

One thing Match offered that no other sites did was Stir Events and I even went to a couple. While they would’ve been more fun with a friend, they weren’t near as horrible and awkward as they sound. They were free, you could bring friends for free, they often included a drink for each person, and were held in popular venues in the city. I have every intention of renewing and actually using my subscription, in the next month.

Summary: If you’re going to pay for online dating, this is the only site I recommend. Take advantage of the Stir Events. It’s a free drink.

The Reluctant Dater

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Me: He called me beautiful, as an endearment. We haven’t even met. Is that creepy?
Gail: It’s not creepy, but it is hollow. He has no idea what you actually look like. Just don’t respond to it. You don’t want to make him feel self-conscious or like you’re reading into things.

Assistant Manager: I haven’t heard from you in awhile and was wondering if I’d said something to upset you.
Me: No. Everything is fine. I do think that, since we haven’t actually met, using endearments (beautiful) is uncomfortable.


I take instruction well.

Me: “I am totally wasting this guy’s time. I’m just not feeling it at all. Like, not even against him, just dating in general. He’s all ‘What would you like to do?’ and I’m all ‘Hang out with my best friend, while you text someone else.’ He hasn’t even done anything wrong. I just want to delete all of my profiles and take a break!”

Me: “Help get me into the mood to go on a date tonight.”
Gail: 
Me: “No. Wait. That came out wrong. It’s just that, every time I try to psyche myself up, it comes out really… mean. You’re able to make me look forward to things, when I’m just like ‘DO YOU WANT TO DIE ALONE?!?! DO YOU WANT TO HAVE CHILDREN OR NOT?!?!'”
Gail: “Ummmm… maybe this is why you’re not enjoying your dates. It’s not a chore, Belle.”
Me: “You know, lately it really is. I just cannot do another bad date. I can’t. I’m half tempted to just text him with ‘I’m not coming tonight. I’m just not feeling it. Sorry.'”

I’m not sure what the catalyst was, or if there even was one. I just woke up one day and was completely over dating. The problem was, I’d been talking to Assistant Manager for a week already. We’d even made plans to meet and just hadn’t worked out the details. In fact, he’d wanted to spend Fourth of July together, but the last thing I wanted to do on my holiday was have a possibly awkward romantic date with no way out. However, bailing wasn’t really an option, particularly with my recent insistence that if things progressed to a first meeting with a man, I would meet him.

Originally, I was hesitant over the age difference. Assistant Manger just turned 34 and I turn 27 in September. Before I started looking for any way out at all, I’d messaged my friend Lacy, whose husband is 35. She told me that while it’s weird to think about if she considers that he graduated high school when she graduated elementary school, day to day, their age difference doesn’t really come up. Furthermore, Assistant Manager wanted kids, but not tomorrow, which would usually be my concern in regards to age. Most men I’ve dated or spoken with, in that age range, either don’t want children or feel like the clock is ticking. Additionally, this guy has a career he enjoys and makes fair money. He’s never been married, but was engaged once and is looking for something serious. And finally… he’s Catholic.

Y’all, the man is Catholic. You have to understand that, growing up, I knew every Catholic kid in town… because there were like eight of us. It’s just not common in the South. Christianity spreads like the clap, but specifically Catholicism? Please. I still occasionally get accused of worshiping Mary. So, age being the only real concern, and not even really one at that, I decided I needed to see this through… more or less.

Me: When did you two break up?
Assistant Manager: January 09.

– Whoa. What? That was like… yesterday. January wasn’t even six months ago. I knew there was something wrong with this guy. Every fucking time! I should just stop talking to him altogether. 

Me: He just told me his fiance left him in January.
Lacy: Wow. Maybe there’s an explanation? 

– Don’t be an asshole, Belle. Just ask him about it.

Me: That’s… recent.
Assistant Manager: Five years ago. Not that recent.
Me: OH! January 2009! I read January 09, 2014!

Even with that cleared up, I was looking for red flags. I don’t know why. The guy looked great on paper. His pictures were a little blurry and, based on my Facebook stalking, didn’t seem to be current. He was nice and wanted the same things I do, though. He didn’t send a dick pic or ask if I like massages. It was just the idea of another man who insults my career… another hovering moment where I’m not sure if he’s going to pay… another guy who lives with mom… another weepy and hysterical phone call to my Gramma or Gail… another I SHAVED MY LEGS FOR THIS?!?!… another funny blog story.

So… I acted like an asshole and figured if he put up with it, I was obviously meant to meet the guy.


No, really. Just put that sentence on the headstone above my solo burial plot.

I’d like to just claim that I didn’t want to get to know this guy through text message. That really was the bulk of it. The first guy I ever dated, after my divorce, I messaged for two months while he was in Afghanistan, only to realize that 1. it was super awkward for a stranger to know so much about me and 2. I wasn’t actually ready to date, anyway. So, yes, that was my primary concern… but it doesn’t explain why, in addition to ceasing most communication with the man, I totally postponed a date to play Bunco with a bunch of middle aged women last Friday.

That’s right. Assistant Manager wanted to meet for dinner a week ago. I told him I’d get back to him about the time and then claimed I had already had evening plans with Ava, because she’d just texted and asked if I could play a dice game with her, her mother, and her mother’s friends. I was just dreading another date so badly… with anyone. 

Last night, however, was the moment of truth. I would either keep the date or cancel, get to a point where I wasn’t over dating, and always wonder what might have been. So… I kept the date. In the time when I was getting ready, I did find some peace. Whatever would be would be. If he was a chubby troll, unwashed, or just plain drunk, I could easily leave in under 30 minutes. After all, my record is only 20. So, I shaved my legs, did my makeup, worked with my hair the best I could, since I desperately need a cut and look like Mufasa, and even headed out with plenty of time to arrive at 8:30 on the dot… after getting lost in the city I’ve lived in my whole life. Sigh.

Fortunately, I found the Starbucks I needed… and Assistant Manager, who was a lot cuter than his pictures, who waited outside for me, opened the door for me, bought my coffee, and chatted and laughed with me for an hour and a half… plus an additional hour and a half in the parking lot after close.

Me: “I graduated high school in 2006.”
Assistant Manager: “… seven years after I did. I graduated in 1999.”
Me: “You graduated the same year as Buffy!”

We had a genuinely good time. Though I could hear Gaily’s voice in my head telling me to ignore it, I apologized for my flakiness, explaining that I didn’t want to get to know him through text message (leaving out Bunco). Assistant Manager even agreed that his questions about my marriage, coupled with endearments, probably came off wrong. We made jokes about it and it was no big deal. There was no confusion about whether or not he wanted to see me again, as he walked me to my car and opened my door for me. He even texted me after I left, asking me to let him know I got home safely. We set a date for Monday or Wednesday, depending on our schedules…

Assistant Manager: I’ll text you tomorrow.
Me: I’ll actually text back this time. 😀

… and I almost missed a good date, because of the sour taste from all those bad ones.

Textersation Tuesday

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Gail has discovered that she still has the phone numbers for all of the douche bags she’s dated…

textersation Tuesday 6-24-14

I love her to death, but that girl will argue about the silliest things.

During our Netflix binge…

Me: “I still say that, in that town, the sex trafficking cop wasn’t all bad.”
Gail: “I think you’re speaking in word salad.”
I actually thought she didn’t realize what I meant.
Me: “The whole town is corrupt. He’s just your average Joe at this point… only he’s hot and he has power.”
Gail: “I really don’t think you’re saying the words you mean to say.”
Me: “So it’s a wee bit of sex trafficking. There were worse options. Everyone has flaws. I think I could overlook it.”
Gail: “No really… you’re not saying the words you mean to say.”

You try and think out of the box for one villain…

Me: “I know you’re not caught up on The Walking Dead yet, but when you get there, just consider this. The Governor? He got shit done.“

Five Things to Immediately Remove from Your Dating Profile

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Recently, I downloaded Tinder.


That about sums it up.

There have been some promising results… or like two. Regardless, I wasn’t even expecting that much, based on blogs I read, and just figured it would be amusing. Don’t worry. Indeed, it has been.

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 Tinder 5

Tinder 4

 OH, THE MAN CHILDREN!!!!!!!

Besides leaving me brokenly muttering the words “I can’t… I just can’t,” Tinder has helped me to refine a list I’ve been forming for quite some time: Five Things to Immediately Remove from Your Dating Profile. I am, of course, referring to men, but ladies, it probably wouldn’t hurt to heed this advice, as well.

Age Inappropriate Photos

One of the things I’ve enjoyed about Tinder is the snide comments that caption each new match, such as “I’m sure they’re better looking in person” and “You’re not getting any younger.” A day into using the app, I was matched with the poster boy for Man Children, at least according to his pictures. While I won’t post a picture of a stranger, this man wore a flat-billed cap, tight black coat with a fur-trimmed hood, wife beater, and bling. He was also white as the driven snow, and lived 12 miles from me (read: suburbia). The photo was captioned “Rockin’ this party 8 days a week!” He was 31 years old. I sent Gail a screenshot with the following:

Yeah… I may not be getting any younger, but he sure is. 

This outfit was the male equivalent to a bedazzled, frayed jean skirt, that was so short as to reveal butt cheeks. In other words, it really wouldn’t even be appropriate on a 19-year-old, but at least it would make more sense. While this was an extreme case, I see instances of this sort of thing all the time. For example, making a duckface (ladies), wearing a flat-billed trucker hat (gentleman), throwing up pretty much any faux gang sign, flipping off the camera, lolling your tongue right out of your head like an overexcited dog…

I have a picture of myself from about a year and a half ago, wearing oversized sunglasses, with my winter coat’s faux fur-trimmed hood pulled forward, making a kissy face, with too much lipgloss. While I know that I took it ironically, that guy looking at my profile may very well assume I was going for Diva, over Dork. So if that slutty Halloween costume was a fluke or in jest, it’s a terrible representation of who you are as a person. These people don’t know you and your photo is likely the very first thing they’ll notice and use to form opinions. That means, if you’re a homebody bookworm, don’t use that photo of you pretending to down a bottle of Jack, because a woman you might have been quite interested in cannot be expected to conclude that you were poking fun at your naturally reserved nature. You were going for fun loving, but it’s one picture, so it comes off as juvenile. Don’t misrepresent yourself, either way. While you’re at it, nix…

The Phrase “between jobs”, or Anything Similar

I think everyone goes through times when they’re just plain tired of being single. They want someone to curl up with at the end of a long day, to hold their hand at a family funeral, to help them carry the groceries from the car. I’ve been there. You’ve been there. Sometimes, however, this longing occurs when we just have to admit that it’s a bad time to get into a serious relationship. Maybe you really want to be ready to date after your divorce, but you just aren’t. Maybe you’d love to have time for a relationship, but with school and the second job, it just isn’t possible. Maybe, just maybe, you’re unemployed.

If you know my history, you’re aware that my ex-husband did not work… like at all… for four fucking years. I realize that this makes me particularly sensitive to any level of unemployment, but in all honesty, for a 28 year old man to tell me he’s “between jobs,” as an opener… I can’t… I just can’t.

I know we make up the boomerang generation, where it’s totally common (I refuse to call it normal), for adults to move back in with their parents, but that doesn’t make doing so any more stable. Everybody has setbacks. Gail, herself, spent two years living with her parents after her daughter died. I mean, really, if you have a better excuse, I’d love to hear it. Sometimes, we have to crawl even after we walk. That’s life. Is it the foundation for a healthy and long lasting relationship, though?

No. Take a break, sort your life out, and then decide if you want to pursue even more responsibility and stress, because you’ll be reading profiles with obvious specifications like…

“No Cheaters”

This actually applies to any given that only succeeds in broadcasting your baggage before the first date. Recently, I’ve also seen a demand for “no liars”, the declaration that they “don’t want to be used”, and brief snippets about their past relationships that “didn’t work out” because “mistakes were made on both sides.” Far and away, the most popular, however, is an insistence for “no games.” Here are the flaws with these statements:

  • Few, if any, men or women would self identify as “liars.” No one wants to date a liar. It’s understood.
  • Few, if any, men or women would consider themselves “users”, even if they do take more than they give. No one wants to date a user. It’s understood.
  • If you’re dating now, your past relationship didn’t work out. It’s understood. “Mistakes were made on both sides” totally sounds like “revenge cheated.”
  • Finally, no one thinks they’re “playing games.” We’re all just making an effort to figure out what we want, without getting trampled and sometimes, it leads to trampling. No one labels themselves this way and no one wants someone to “play games” with them. It’s understood.

Dude, I’m so sorry that your previous wife slept with your best friend and lied about spending all of your money on designer handbags. It’s awful that you felt the need to sleep with her high school nemesis to make her pay and now all women look the same to you. One question, though:

WHY THE FUCK IS THIS ON YOUR PROFILE?!?!

We all have baggage. That’s a safe and reasonable assumption. In fact, lately, I’ve been sleeping less and less, because I keep having nightmares about my marriage. It’s been three and a half years and I’ve slept with the light on twice in the last month. I’m considering getting therapy if and when I get health insurance. You know what, though? That’s a terrible pick up line.

Sure, there are some facts that cannot and should not be withheld. If he’s been married, has a daughter, or cares for his ailing grandmother, I want to know, so that I can make a decision as to whether or not this is something I can handle long-term. The facts are necessary (marital and parent/caregiver status). Almost without fail, the emotions attached to them are better left for another date, because these people are still strangers. Speaking of which, you should also leave out…

Anything Sexual

While sexuality is all over our televisions, magazines, and somehow even radio, I find it is still generally expected that we, as individuals, will not share intimate details of our private lives with strangers. Of course, there are certain facts worth sharing in a dating setting, in regards to sexual health. These could include being HIV positive, saving yourself for marriage, physical incapability of sexual performance, or possibly even a broad description of personal appetite. All of these things could be potential deal breakers for a romantic partner, so full disclosure is probably the best idea. You’re in luck, too, because there’s a private messaging option for that, if you STILL don’t want the whole world to know. Beyond these somewhat reasonable topics, though, OKCupid has asked questions on all of the following…

History of anal sex
Enjoyment of performing oral sex
Willingness to be collared
Opinion of pain during sex
Pornography preference
Masturbation habits
Willingness to kiss after receiving oral sex
Interest in group sex

Regardless of anyone’s answers to these questions, why do these things need to be shared? Even if you’re looking for a hookup, do you really want that guy from high school to be able to read about your history of anal sex? This shit is public, yo. Furthermore, while I haven’t actually had stranger sex, isn’t half the fun in discovery? I mean, aren’t you sort of ruining the mystery of shamelessly sexting about these things? Even if you’re looking for something serious and are just particularly open and honest about these things, the person you’re trying to entice may not be. It is unbelievably awkward to sit at dinner with a nice man and have the following running through your head:

He prefers softcore porn. What exactly is softcore porn? Does he realize the possibility that he’s watching live sex slavery acts for his entertainment? Ew. His entertainment. Do not think about him masturbating. Do not think about him masturbating. 

This is totally one of those Just Me moments, isn’t it? You know what? These things still beat…

Your Tired Anchorman Quote

The most private thing I’m will to admit…

“I wear a special cologne. It’s called Sex Panther, by Odeon. It’s illegal in nine countries. Yup. It’s made with bits of real panther, so you know it’s good. 60% of the time, it works every time.”

The Time I Didn’t Have Coffee with Plant Manager

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Me: Remember the guy from eHarmony that I said I might meet? I haven’t heard from him since Friday and now he’s asking if meeting tomorrow still works. Thoughts?
Gail: That’d be fine with me. That’s pretty much just the weekend. People get busy. *Shrug* At the very least, it’s a meal.
Me: It’s a coffee. Today’s Tuesday and I last heard from him Friday at noon. That’s a little more than the weekend.
Gail: It’s a coffee. I’d do that with a guy I didn’t remember meeting at a bar a month ago.
Me: You’d do a lot of things with a guy you didn’t remember meeting at a bar a month ago.

I am going to be completely honest about my motivation to join eHarmony. I follow an über conservative blogger, who has some really great points and sometimes, some really crazy ones. He’s a truly unique guy and just a touch fanatical, but he met his wife on eHarmony and, based on what I read on his blog, they seem genuinely well-suited and happy. Sooooo, if eHarmony could find a match for this just-a-touch-nuts guy, surely my chances would be improved. That’s right. I read a story about a guy who claims to have a good marriage, so I spent $135 on a year of eHarmony.

Plant Manager was my first eHarmony date. He was 30 and transitioning out of the teaching profession. I always prefer for a guy to have a pretty set career, but both options were Big Boy Jobs, so whatever. He also had a roommate, which is always a turnoff for me. In the South, you can get an apartment for less than $700 per month, so it always comes off as a bit juvenile to me when someone doesn’t live alone. Regardless, I understand that different people have different preferences, so whatever. He was particularly religious, which seemed potentially problematic, since he was protestant, but I figured I’d give it a shot, because whatever. Finally, I wasn’t really feeling much common ground or interest, via text message. He hadn’t made much effort to contact me or get to know me at all, prior to meeting; but different people do this online dating thing differently…. so whatever.


I feel like this gif pretty much sums up my dating life.

As you can tell, I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about this date. It wasn’t so much my dating attitude, as of late, as it was Plant Manager, himself. I suppose I was hoping that there might be this great face to face connection and we’d have an amazing conversation. Then again, I did send my dad the following text, in regards to visiting my uncle and family at the hospital.

Me: Well, after this date goes badly, I’ll head that way.

The date was sort of just on the way.

When I got to Starbucks, Plant Manager opened the door for me and greeted me. While I tried to put the trivial stuff aside, I immediately noticed that this man could not look like more of a hipster if he had a fedora and knitting needles. Also… 5’8″ DOES NOT FUCKING EXIST! Seriously, if one more man tells me he’s 5’8″, I’m just going to pretend I have a date with Tyrion Lannister.

Are these people just used to the metric system and having difficulties with the conversion? Are they rounding up by two inches? Am I not realizing that they’re barefoot? I am 5’5. My cowboy boots are not three inch heels. We should not be the same height, when he is wearing shoes… even if they were burlap loafers (I shit you not).

Ahem…

After greeting me, Plant Manager just kind of… stood there. He didn’t direct me to a seat, though he’d already been waiting. He didn’t ask me if I’d like anything to drink. In fact, it went something like this:

Plant Manager: “Were you gonna order a drink or anything?”
Me: “Um… I guess not. Did you not want anything?”
Plant Manager: “Well, I thought I might get something if you were gonna get something. If not, I guess not.”
Me: “Um.. okay.”
:: silence… still standing in the doorway ::
Me: “You wanna sit?”

Y’all, I am pretty big on letting the boy be the boy. Not only does that include offering to buy me a coffee after inviting me to Starbucks, but it also includes asking me to sit with him, like a gentleman. I’ve no interest in leading this dance, so I will stand there in the doorway until he gets the point… or someone opens the door (as was the case).

Plant Manager: “I teach at a vocational school.”
Me: “Have you never taught at an actual school?”
Plant Manager: “An actual school?”
Me: “NO! I mean a public high school. I wasn’t insulting career tech.”
Plant Manager: “Okay. Sorry. I’m a little sensitive about that.”
Me: “I actually got my bachelor’s in Family and Consumer Science education, so I understand career tech more than most.”
Plant Manager: “Family and Consumer Science?”
Me: “Home-ec?”
Plant Manager: “Huh. I didn’t know that took a whole degree. Really? Just for home ec?”

Duuuuuude. You just got offended when I accidentally made it sound like I didn’t take your job seriously! Also, remember this.

Me: “So, what was your major in college?”
Plant Manager: “Bible.”

Okay, I don’t know if this is a Catholic versus Protestant communication breakdown or if he’s just wording that incorrectly, but it did bring up religion.

Me: “Ministry is certainly a Calling. I’m Catholic, of course, so that was obviously off the table for me.”
Plant Manager: ::clearly surprised:: “Oh? You’re born and raised Catholic?”

Okay, I am almost certain it’s not just the librarian in me saying this, but an online dating profile is not that long. Read the whole damned thing, so we can both avoid moments like this! Somehow, we got on the subject of homosexuality being considered a sin in most Christian churches, as his was also very traditional.

Plant Manager: “It’s only mentioned in the bible like, four times. I don’t know what it is, but something about that whole issue really doesn’t sit well with me.”
Me: “Well, some theologians have pointed out that Jesus was a devout Jew, so he would’ve been against homosexuality.”
Plant Manager: “I guess that’s the difference between Catholics and Christians. We go off of scripture.”

Um, nice jab at my Church, douche. Also, judging from your burlap shoes, the denim shirt that’s so tight I can see your nipples, and your mannerisms, I think I know what it is that doesn’t sit well.

Honestly, y’all, I don’t want to cry homosexual toward every man I date. Air Force was straight as an arrow. I didn’t get any gay vibes at all from the much less manly Engineer No. 94, but I thought this the second I walked through the door and and noted Plant Manager’s khaki colored skinny jeans. In addition to his inability to discuss religious ideas, without being an ass, I’d already realized things would never work, because while I adore my gay friends, I don’t want to date them. I genuinely felt like the man had some things to figure out about himself, so I moved the conversation to some more neutral territory.

Me: “I love my job, though.”
Plant Manager: “Yeah. That’s good. I can’t imagine it being too stressful.” :: chuckles and scoffs ::

Excuse me?!?! I’m sorry, but if there was any doubt of this man’s homosexuality, it was laid to rest upon discovering his ability to be that much of a bitch. What the fucking hell? I did not get my damned master’s degree in shushing people and pushing my glasses up the bridge of my nose. My job is heavily rooted in customer service, research, and information technology. Any given day, I could have a woman on the phone asking me to read her full articles about anal fissures, while I have two people in front of me listening to this conversation, waiting for assistance with reader’s advisory and downloading e-media, and two other people sighing and waving their hands at me to help them reformat that resume and figure out how to print that conversation from Facebook. Furthermore, Plant Manager had already declared that the field couldn’t be that competitive, via text message, when I told him I was half time. I’d already given him the benefit of the doubt. Dude, if you’re basing your knowledge of a profession on a scene from a movie, go suck a dick!!!!

Me: “Well, I think I’m going to go see my uncle in the hospital. It was nice meeting you. Have a good night.”

That’s right. The best part of my date night was a hospital visit.

Textersation Tuesdays

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Gail and I are hilarious. I know I’m biased, but judging from the response I get when I post a screenshot of one of our text message conversations on Facebook, I’m also correct.  Like this one, with the caption “All a girl needs is one friend who truly believes in her.”

June 10, 2014

Gail: My parents know I suggested you prostitute yourself. Could you please check with me before posting stuff about me online?

Me: I’m sorry. It was just a silly funny text. You suggested that was the way to get into the mob, not just like a good life decision. I’ll take it down, though.
Me: It’s no longer up, but it’s not like I said “What’s should I have for dinner?” and you said “Dick… but charge for it.”
Me: Bee tea double ewe, that was a popular post. People think you’re funny. Preen.
Me: Don’t be mad at me?
Me: That time I sent your dad a picture of my nipple was waaaaaay worse, Gail. Have some perspective.
* I forgot that he was reading her text messages during our inappropriate photo war.
Me: Not to mention the time I accidentally told his boss to fuck off.
* I made a sarcastic remark about how his Facebook post was cheesy, thinking I was teasing him, and only later realized it was his boss’s post and she was really offended.
Me: Or when I “accidentally” kept calling you Megan in front of your mom.
* The Musician once called Gail “Megan”, during sex. 

Gail: Oh, I’m not angry, just would rather it not be up and have an idea of what IS before I hear about it from my fam. Lol. Sorry. I didn’t see your texts.

Me: Well, I took it down, but it really didn’t strike me as bad. It was your suggestion for how to join the mob, not how to spend a Tuesday. But I’ll let you know in the future and not post anything you don’t want.

So, since Gaily’s taken to censoring me on Facebook, I will now be posting my favorite textersation screenshots on Tuesdays… possibly sporadically. They may not always be from Gail, though that’s likeliest, since we coined the phrase “textersation”, simply because we can send each other any random message at any time, without the forced awkwardness of opening a conversation.

So begins, Textersation Tuesdays.

Peter Pan and the Reason I Moved to 1954

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I have dated a lot of men. Just dated, not “dated.” No air quotes are necessary, unlike with some people I know… ::cough:: Gail ::cough::

I’ve dated short chubby men, tall skinny men, unusually surly men, men who were probably gay, Atheists, men who look like Gollum from The Lord of the Rings, men with furry hands… okay, those last two probably shouldn’t have been plural. Even I have not managed to date two men who look like they’re wearing September mittens. My point is, however, that I’ve had an… eclectic dating history. When I first started dating, newly divorced at 24, I was “overly specific” (air quotes totally necessary) with my dating goals.

“I just want an educated, gainfully employed, Catholic man, who’s 6’4″, well hung, can protect me if society breaks down, but still likes to debate Superman vs. Batman! IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK?!?!” Over time, though, I’ve become both more serious in my dating ventures, and more reasonable. Today, he only has to enjoy intellectual conversations (no degree required), love Jesus, and clear 5’7″. I’ve added a couple of things to the list, naturally, as I’ve discovered them to be issues. For example, military is out, because I’m not leaving my Gramma, Gaily, daddy, or career. He must be older than me, because zetus lapetus, I will be telling my great granddaughters of the horror that was my date with Civil Engineer…

::wincing:: “Wooooooooow. You’re like a whole year older than me. How do you feel about that?”

… but I’m not being superficial anymore. If there’s even a chance I could develop a physical attraction to the man, over time, s’all good. The one thing I have not relaxed on, and will not relax on, though, is that “gainfully employed” bit.

Now, y’all probably know I had a particularly disturbing marriage. I’ve hinted and outlined and, even though the divorce was finalized three years ago, I cuddled my gun and slept with the light on just two nights ago. That kind of behavior is extremely and increasingly rare, but it does still happen… because my marriage was fucked up. One of the many ways in which it was, was my ex-husband’s refusal to work. By refusal, I mean that this man went to bizarre measures to actually fake employment. This is why I refer to men by their job titles. I’m much likelier to remember that he was a teacher, than I am to remember that he was called Matt. Also, I like the reminder that he does have a job, because of one freakish phenomenon I have noticed among the men of my generation: rampant Peter Pan Syndrome.

Why are there so many men out there who don’t work?!?! I’m not just talking about online dating. I’m talking about people I talk to at the library, men I’ve met at bars, and friends of friends. I ask a man, in his late 20s/early 30s, what he does for a living and he says:

“I’m going to school for graphic design.”

Really? Going to school for graphic design pays your bills, now?!?! Silly me, for getting my MLIS. I could have avoided an awful lot of student loans, if I’d just majored in graphic design.

I haven’t actually been on a date since Air Force, in part, because I’ve been working so much, but also because there haven’t been any men of promise. Recently, I thought I found one. He messaged me on OKCupid and told me he thought we might have something in common, since we’d also been matched on Christian Mingle. His profile said he was in finance. When I asked about it, he told me it was “way too complicated” to explain in a message. *Spoiler alert: no… it wasn’t. When we’d traded phone numbers and had the chance to text, I asked again. My phone instantly rang, though he hadn’t asked to call me.

Me: “Hello?”
Peter Pan: “Hey. Is this Belle?”
Me: “Yes.”
Peter Pan: “Hey. Sorry. I just figured I’d call, because what I do is waaaay too complicated to explain in a text message. You see, you know what the stock market is, right?”
Me: “Um. Yeah. I mean, I don’t invest, but I understand that it exists.”
Peter Pan: “Yeah, well, I grow assets for a living.”
Me: 
Peter Pan: “I invest in different enterprises and even spent a few years flipping houses.”
Me: “Okay, but you have an actual title and this is a steady paycheck, right?”
Peter Pan: “Oh, no. It’s not steady at all. I could lose everything tomorrow. I never have, though. I know people who have… but they always make it back. I mean I’ve got degrees, but it’s not like that means anything, today. Nobody cares about college degrees anymore. I’m actually planning on going back for my MBA and maybe my master’s in experimental psych.”

Me: 
Me: “Um… why? What are you planning on doing with them?”
Peter Pan: ::laughing:: “Nothing, really.”
Me: “So, um… what do you do all day, then?”
Peter Pan: ::laughing:: “Pretty much nothing.”
Me: 
Peter Pan: “I mean, I spend my days, pretty much, like… brainstorming ideas, hanging out with my nephews, taking care of my mom.”
Me: 

This man was 32 years old and lived with his mom. He was able-bodied and educated and chooses not to work. At best, he’s a professional gambler. At worst, he already has a wife he’s never met on World of Warcraft.

What the fucking fuck?!?! Why is this a thing?!?! Why are there people who don’t work?!?! Why are there parents who let their adult children live with them and do nothing?!?! 

No really. I cease my screaming at the heavens and express my sincere bafflement that there are so many adults who just choose not to join society. You haven’t read about The Guys in ages, save for Ward, because I don’t understand them. They’ll always be the boys who helped me leave my ex-husband, but it also seems they’ll always be the men who live at home. They’re my age and older. They have full time jobs. They even have degrees. Yet, my old guy friends all live with their parents for no reason and they’re not even all that exceptional in this. 

Sixty years ago, a man joined the adult world at 18, if he was lucky to last that long. Only the elite went to college and most of them were male. One thing was certain, though. Society did not pander to men who didn’t feel like growing up, just because they hadn’t decided what they wanted to do with their lives, or because it was cheaper not to do so. Men were forced to be men and women were forced to be women. I am so disgusted that this is no longer the way of things, that my next date is going to be in 1954 with a mad scientist and a DeLorean. I work two jobs to pay my way. In grad school, I still worked two jobs and once passed out from selling my blood to make ends meet on my own. I don’t need to date a cardiologist, but I am absolutely willing to demand that he makes a steady and livable wage! IS THAT SO MUCH TO ASK?!?!