Gregory told me once he didn’t believe in fate or things happening for a reason. It was a happy accident the Tinder algorithm decided to show my profile to him. I don’t know what I believe – is it true you get what you put out into the universe? That the universe sends you signs all the time, the key is being open to them?
Could it be someone or something cares enough about what I do that Gregory finding out about my blog is the universe punishing me for any perceived misdeeds with Tony?
I don’t know. I’m a practical sort: I actually don’t spend a lot of my time thinking those big universe type thoughts. I’d like to believe in karma and reincarnation. According to a noted psychic, in one of my past lives, I was a very powerful healer. Dunno. But I do live my life as if it’s the only one I have. Continue reading →
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 →
Gregory was now in my kitchen but I wasn’t quite sure what to do next. It was late, past 11 pm, and I knew I didn’t want to end up with him in my bed. This was one first date I wanted to take a little slow.
I offered him something to drink and he chose water. He’d driven to the date so I would have been surprised if he’d asked for alcohol. He looked around my main floor and commented on a variety of things which caught his eye. He loved the art. He made note of the vinyl and my gramophone: love of music is something we have in common.
It seemed obvious he was interested in me by his sheer presence, late at night on a work night, several hours after our date started. I was very aware where he was standing relative to me, but didn’t want to make the first physical move.
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.
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!”
A couple of days of texting later, I asked whether he wanted to meet for a coffee or drink. He said yes, but he didn’t “really know” where I was. When I said my precise location didn’t matter, he called me “miss spy”. We made plans to meet after work that Friday, and our texting for the next day was perfectly normal.
That was Tuesday.
He didn’t text again.
On Saturday, the day after our supposed date, I texted “what happened to us going out yesterday after work” and he replied the next day “I don’t know, I never heard back you disappeared for two days.” He said he wanted to try again. Continue reading →
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.
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 →
My last two months has been unusual. A broken leg, being in a cast, mostly house-bound is not what I’m used to.
Before Leo came to see me in the hospital, I hadn’t seen him for six weeks. We’d had three dates and then things went quiet as I dealt with the realization I hadn’t fully detached from Tony. I was crazy busy with work.
I needed some emotional and physical space.
Since my injury, while friends have been visiting, my child has been with me every other week, and I’ve been working at home, my life isn’t the same. It occurred to me, perhaps my situation is heightening my feelings for Leo. Continue reading →
The hot: Our last (and second) overnight date saw Leo continue our fisting adventure, this time adding double penetration with his hands and the Hitachi, for long enough at times I almost saw stars.
I could kiss him for hours.
The sweet: Every time he woke up that night, he wrapped me in his arms. He would nuzzle the back of my neck. He gives me bear hugs and tells me how good I feel.
He sends sweet memes.
The work-in-progress: He’s working on his weight loss. A good start, but a long way to go. It’s had an impact on his – ahem – ability to perform. It’s clearly not a deal-breaker for me at this point. Continue reading →