John, the other poet.

I’m not too sure what to do with John. If I’d been less busy the past 10 days, I could have written many posts about him already. There’s potential – but for what exactly, I haven’t figured out. Writing about it will help crystallize my thoughts.

Based on his profile, I wasn’t expecting much from our first date. We had a 98% match on OK Cupid, which was something. His opening message was solid and he had some very deep questions to ask me (“are you ready for love?”) which were surprising and I presumed demonstrated depth of character. 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

Working my way through the man pipeline.

Last week in the midst of the chaos, I hid my online dating profiles so the only men who see me are those with whom I’ve already connected.

I once referred to online dating as a sales funnel, and it’s true. Once I have a bunch of prospects I can’t handle any more, and need to have them work their way through the pipeline. It’s amazing how quickly one can go from multiple prospects to none. 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

The dirty poet.

The man who referred to himself as a poet peppered his texts with “you’re such a little sweetheart” and sunflower emojis. When we met at a downtown bar for an after-work drink, my first thought was he might be bisexual. He had that way about him.

He’s in his mid-fifties and after ending his 25-year marriage, he got a tattoo, a nipple ring, and earrings in both ears. He’s in the film industry in an artistic role.

When I departed that first date, he stayed seated on the barstool, we hugged and he gave me what I would call a quick peck on the lips. Later, he professed via text how excited that kiss got him. He said he felt a spark.

Huh?  Continue reading