first tinder meeting

When a Tinder hiccup is a good thing.

Along with the other dating sites, I hid my Tinder profile over three weeks ago. I was having enough of a hard time dealing with the men I already had in the mix; I didn’t need any new applicants. I figured I’d work my way through the ones I was already talking to and then decide whether to unhide the accounts again.

So last Monday, I was surprised when my phone pinged with a Tinder notice: “You have a new match!”

Huh? Continue reading

John starts on a high note, then descends…

Previous Post

A reminder, you can always check out my “men in the mix” page to get the latest on the men I’m writing about. It’s all spoilers, all the time!

John drove me home, we parked his car and I invited him into my house. In my kitchen, as I poured him a drink, he went for it. Arms around me, mouth on the back of my neck, pushing me up against my kitchen counter.

I discovered this man in his late 50s had the libido of a 20-year-old. We got pretty heated on my main floor and I decided what the hell, I’d take him upstairs.  Continue reading

The plumber, another poet, and the lumber guy.

I love the conversations I have with Hyacinth when we are confused about the male topics of conversation. “Which one is he again, Ann?” she’ll exclaim, “you know I can’t keep any of them straight!”

Admittedly, between the two of us, it is a little difficult. There are too many men with the same name or same characteristics.

And right now, I’m very behind. I could have written five posts about John already. Looking at the week ahead I know I won’t get caught up, so this is my attempt to do a round up to the current date (pardon the pun). My “men in the mix” page is proving very helpful for me, but not sure if anyone else is taking a look. I just updated it, if you’re interested.  Continue reading

My Mom, Glen Campbell, and Vietnam.

“For you, who is gentle on my mind, but too hot to handle at times. Please never change, because you are beautiful. Good luck and safe trip, and remember all of our good times. Love, Rick. 7/31/69, Hawaii.

P.S. Remember the steaks and ice cream, because they make you sweet (smile).”

Did you notice the date? It’s not a typo: 1969. Those words, written in red looping cursive script, were for my mother. They are on the back of a vinyl record which accompanied her back to the mainland from Hawaii, Glen Campbell’s “Gentle on My Mind”. She got rid of the ABBA and the classical albums long ago, but a precious few remained packed away until her recent move.  Continue reading

The plumber checks my pipes.

We had a solid pre clearance date. It didn’t end in a kiss because while we were inside talking over a drink, the temperature dropped several degrees and in his shorts, he was far too cold outside to stand on the street and make out.

It was probably just as well, because given how great our kissing chemistry proved to be, we may have made a spectacle of ourselves on that busy street.

He gets up ridiculously early every morning for a 6 am start time. I’m learning this is the downside of dating tradesmen. He asks me how my day is going, he’s been up for hours, and I’m still waking up.  Continue reading

A wee rant about cancelling.

Sometimes, I wonder if men really understand why cancelling last minute is super annoying for women.

The plumber and I have now had two nights where we’ve made plans, and he’s cancelled both at the last minute. I have Liam for an extended period of time, so if he wants to see me, it has to be at my place for a drink after Liam is asleep.

I suppose 9:15 pm is late for someone who starts work at 6am, but I’m in the camp of “don’t make plans if you can’t follow through.” Continue reading

My bananas week.

If I’ve done this before, it was long ago enough I’ve forgotten.

This week I set out to meet (and maybe have sex with) as many men as possible, within the constraints of work and my need for sleep. I needed to remind myself that there are men out there who are interesting to me. And I decided to not do it half-way.

Sunday 

Jake told me Saturday he was no longer able to meet for our planned evening of conversation and sex, so I was keen to fill the spot.

I had a first date with the blue-eyed and hot-bodied plumber who misjudged the local traffic, showed up late, and then was too cold in his shorts and t-shirt to give me enough of a kiss goodbye. We talked a lot about dating and even sex – he seemed pretty cool. Continue reading

Men who work with their hands.

I was fed up with the bullshit of recent events. It got so bad, my personal trainer, hearing a new disaster or story every week, asked me if I played the lottery because my luck was so bad with men it had to be good elsewhere.

So one recent night, bolstered with a bit of liquid courage, I said “fuck this shit”. If I really wanted someone in my life, I needed to seriously get back in the game. I had opened my Bumble profile a few weeks prior and it was lackluster so far – quite literally, nothing to write about.

I already had open profiles on Coffee Meets Bagel and the League, both which took about 5 minutes of effort each day to say whether I liked the one or two men they served up, and yielded absolutely nothing.  Continue reading

Filling my time.

The first line I wrote for this post was “I’m much better than I used to be at not wasting my time with men.”

I stared at it. Erased it twice.

As much as its true that I don’t waste my time with bullshit online anymore – if I know a man doesn’t want what I want, I don’t bother – I could argue I wasted a lot of time with Tony. Continue reading