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

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

Blech. Leo Redux.

Ever since I broke up with him, Leo has been asking me out every couple of weeks.

“Hey Ann how about a drink after work on Wednesday?” he will text. I’ve consistently said no. I’ve even said (gently) that since we broke up, I wasn’t interested in continuing to date.

“It’s just as friends, Ann” he’d protest. “You have a friend for life.” Continue reading

Train delay due to flirtation at track level.

Shortly after my split, I got a tattoo to remind me to live a life of no regrets. It’s highly visible and I’ve used it at times to help make that “oh just go for it” decision. My decisions are all mine now; I don’t want to look back years from now and think “if only…”, especially when it comes to a pickup.

You know those moments where you see someone who sends electric shocks through your body, yet you let them pass by without a word spoken? I remember every time it happened to me, and decided I’d do my best to never let it happen again. I don’t want to have “missed connections” anymore. Continue reading

Completely fine with foiled plans.

Note: I hadn’t finished this post when the can’t do this” text came in from Bruce. So it’s a little out of order…

::

On Monday night, I was certain I was going to have a busy week of casual lovers. I’d been with Todd on Sunday night. I had plans with Jake for Tuesday and tentative plans with Clark for Thursday. It felt rather hedonistic.

Sunday night with Todd was exactly what I needed. I was out-of-town for work, arriving in the late evening by plane, and he drove two hours just to see me. We ended up barely talking. Over discussions about American football at the hotel lobby bar, he connected with a colleague of mine. When I met Todd at the bar, I couldn’t exactly ignore my colleague, so we ended up talking more than Todd and I. Continue reading

Thinking about Bruce.

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It’s become clear Bruce isn’t ready for the practical realities of dating. He thought he was. He’d taken almost two years before he took the online dating plunge: he said he wasn’t ready before that. I believe him. At his core, I think he’s a good man.

He’s not a Jack, telling women he pursues what they want to hear. He’s no Tony, emotionally incapable of truly leaving his marriage.

He’s Bruce.

Continue reading

Bruce needs to get his shit together.

I’ve been home from my trip for almost three weeks. In that time, I’ve seen Bruce for a grand total of one hour, on a day I rearranged my schedule to work from home in the morning so he could stop by my place between job sites. It wasn’t quality time; he’d eaten something that didn’t agree with him so was sick to his stomach. We had sex which lasted eight minutes.

That’s it.

One hour in three weeks. A grand total of three in-person meetings in the two months since I met him. One after-work drink, one dinner, and a morning quickie.  Continue reading

I put my own oxygen mask on first.

This topic has been rumbling around in my back of my head for a few years, but I didn’t know how to articulate it until now.

How do I prioritize my life? What is my life made up of? Friends, family, my child, work, and my own needs, including dating/sex.

I’ve said many times that since my split, rebuilding relationships with friends and family has been a priority. I can confidently say I’ve made it happen, and of this, I’m very proud. Continue reading