date night couch tony dan

Thursday night: freedom, then trapped…on the couch

Thursday night was the “date night” Tony referred to in a conversation earlier in the week. We had no date-like plans, which was fine by me. I took some more of my freedom back today, but ended up trapped anyway…on the couch.

It was an awesome day, to be honest. I herded cats real hard at work, had a coffee date with a man I haven’t seen in over a year (more to come), and continued my journey of speaking my truth and closing doors.

I’ve maintained the burner phone number app for many months – I got it first to communicate with Tony, but then used it primarily for online dating. I’d recommend it to anyone. Continue reading

I’m not sure how much “space” I’ve actually created

do feel quieter, mentally. It’s all relative, I suppose. I still wake up with thoughts of lost friendship and lost potential, but it’s the exception, not the rule. I don’t miss online dating. I’d left one app on my phone called Inner Circle – it’s new-ish and proved to be completely useless: only two men in my city on the app over the age of 38, my height or more, with a college education and children. TWO.

If I removed the “children” requirement there were maybe twenty.

A 28 year-old tall handsome professional reached out to me. He said he loved older women and I seemed to be exactly his type. He was interesting and articulate and figured I had nothing to lose by responding. We texted back and forth for a week. He flaked on a date we’d booked for tonight and I didn’t care one bit. Continue reading

Christmas dinner turkey

The Plumber came over for Christmas, and other stories.

I write this from a country pub on the same property as the small cottage I’ve booked for myself the next two nights. It’s the kind of cottage I should be sharing with a lover or boyfriend. Fireplace, king bed, outdoor spa, indoor soaker tub, fluffy white bathrobes. But despite three men asking if they can join me, I’m staying here solo. Christmas dinner is over and my house (and I) have fully recovered.

I’m here to write. But what I’ve done so far is eat fish tacos, drink a large glass of local Chardonnay, unsuccessfully try to figure out how to import my posts into Scrivener, flirt with my hot bartender, talk to the adorable young couple next to me, and give the female some perspective on her parent’s divorce this summer, after 37 years of marriage. She was bereft that her Mom is already dating someone, who showed up for Christmas dinner.  Continue reading

Clearing the stable – for me.

I told my Instagram people on both my Ann St. Vincent and my real life account that I was taking a break for a while. I found myself doing dumb things like looking at certain men’s accounts who I was trying to move beyond. It was silly and unproductive.

I went through all of my messaging accounts and deleted the men who I was hoping would maybe come back, but knew they wouldn’t. In WhatsApp, I even deleted the archived exchanges (after downloading them, in case I ever wanted to reference them for the blog). The temptation is too strong when I see a text history.

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It’s over before it really got started.

All the Harper posts are down, as you may notice. He informed me today that a friend of his told him about my blog. Someone who doesn’t know my real life identity, apparently. Which seems inconceivable, but given I seem to be insanely unlucky with ugly coincidences, I suppose it’s plausible.

He read a bit about himself. Not sure if he read anything else.

So that’s it. He “called it”. Said he needed his life to be simple. We’d only been on two dates, he just got out of his 25-year marriage, and was busy traveling in December… all said to impress on me that his ending it was no big deal.

There was nothing I could say to change his mind. I apologized via text after we hung up the phone and said while yes, we’d only had two dates, I felt a compatibility I’d rarely found and hoped at some point he’d reconsider.

Then I sat at my kitchen counter sobbing for a good long while: loss of potential is far worse for me than a relationship which runs its course. And to be denied potential because of this blog gutted me.

stable of men

Clearing the stable to make room for Gregory

While it was very early days with Gregory, it was a good a time as any to clear the stable of men to make some room, both mentally and physically.

Late the next morning, Gregory messaged me with the text from his friend who had failed to deliver the Veuve Cliquot as requested. I was so pleased he even thought about it, I wasn’t fussed. And even better, I liked that he had talked to his friend about me.

He told me he had totally restrained himself that night in my kitchen. I loved it on two fronts: that he found me appealing, and that he had some self-control. He said he didn’t want to scare me off, and I told him it was good he now knew it was an unwarranted fear.

Which immediately had me thinking about what would happen the next time I was alone with him.  Continue reading

First date

When server errors threaten my first date.

I was admittedly a little concerned I hadn’t heard back from Gregory. I know some people tend to reduce their communication pace after a date is booked, but to not reply to a text at all? While I told myself everything was fine, the cynical I’ve-had-the-worst-luck part of me was stomping her mental foot deep down. I wasn’t sure if this Tinder date was going to happen.

But my burner app had been flaking out and I’d been receiving sorry-the-server-is-down notifications, so I suspected it was that. I didn’t want to text again on the burner app, since if it didn’t work the first time there was no guarantee it would work the second.

I went back to Tinder.

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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

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

catfish

They aren’t catfish, but are just as bad.

This may need a new dating term – someone who uses their actual pictures, but who lies about their purpose for being online. They may actually be single as they profess, but they aren’t seeking dating or a relationship. Here’s another story of my being catfished.

The only thing they want is to get off on pictures and a sexually-charged chat.

Some may be willing to speak on the phone, but most aren’t. Some are very clever at how they present and interact, and it’s hard to realize they are not-quite-catfish.

This has happened to me three times in two weeks.  Continue reading