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Happy Hour Dating Dilemmas: Martini Time

Pour yourself a glass of wine, make a martini, and curl up with a plate of Brie and crackers. It’s time for this week’s Happy Hour Dating Dilemmas. These are real-life situations from Internet daters who have asked for help with their profiles or their online dating situation.

As is always the case, the names and identifying details are changed to protect the innocent and, sometimes, the very very guilty. My lawyers said I should tell you that. Check out other Happy Hour Dating Dilemmas here.

Dear Tiia,

In looking at profile pictures on one of the online dating services, I found a guy who seems wonderful from his writing. His picture seems ok too except for one thing. He only has one picture and it’s very, very blurry. It’s hard to even tell what he looks like honestly. It’s not that I’m that concerned about looks, but I don’t know if I should be worried about this.

Signed,

Glenda the Good Witch

Witchy Woman,

Tiia’s Internet Dating Rule #20 says: “Do not, under any circumstances, date anyone without a picture on their profile. It’s better if they have several and highly recommended that they aren’t grainy as if they are really old. People use old pictures all of the time.”

While this guy at least has a picture, which is good, the fact that it is that fuzzy does not bode well. There are only a few reasons for this and they are below:

1. There is some reason he does not want to use a real, updated picture of himself like he is actually a woman or a quadriplegic (both of which either happened to me or to someone I know).
2. He does not own a digital camera or camera phone because he lives in a trailer home in West Virginia where he is currently running an extension cord from his neighbor’s trailer to provide himself with power. He is corresponding with you from the computers at the public library. His mother and father are first cousins.
3. He is a spy for Turkmenistan (I don’t have anything against the Turkmenistanians, but I think they have a funny country name and you should see their national bird) which prevents him from revealing his true identity. He will kill you immediately after engaging in coitus.
4. Or he may simply be embarrassed of his appearance because he wants to make himself appear younger, better looking, or more masculine than he really is.

In all of these cases, well except for the Turkmenistanian, what I never understand is what they think is going to happen when you meet them. Do they think you are going to be so dazzled by their keen intellect and witty repartee that you would completely overlook the fact that they not only lied about a key part of their profile but also misled you into thinking your were meeting a different person altogether?

I recommend that you steer clear of him. It has nowhere to go that is good. Unless you like West Virginia or Turkmenistan.

Tiia

And on that note, I had to include this little funny from a North Carolina (not a West Virginia, lest you think I only make fun of West Virginians) newspaper for you!

Dear Tiia,

How many dating sites do you recommend that I belong to? There are so many out there, and I just don’t know how to pick which ones are the best. There are sites that match your personality, your religion, your sexual preference—even if you’re a vegetarian! For one thing, doing online dating takes a great deal of time and I’m a single mom. How do I know which ones are the best.

Girl Working in a Guy’s World

Dear Brave New Girl in a Brave New World,

You’re right, it’s crazy out there! I recently saw a site for Cougars and also one specifically for Booty Calls. There is also one aimed at people who want to be celibate (I’m guessing they don’t have a lot of takers but whatever).

Anyhoo…here’s what I think. It used to be that the free ones were pretty sucky. That is no longer the case. However, read the reviews and look at how many subscribers there are before you join any site. As you have noticed, there is a great deal of work involved in joining and maintaining an Internet dating site—at least if you are going to do it effectively. And remember, you need to treat this like it is a job hunt process.

You might want to start with just one, a major one, that matches your social and sexual wants. Each has its own “flavor” so you don’t join Adult Friend Finder if you have conservative relationship values but you don’t join EHarmony if you’re like me and you are a little on the more martini drinking side of things. You do your homework before interviewing with a company for a job, so do a little research at the beginning of this process. It will pay off and save you more time for more red wine.

I also have a couple of resource articles that should help:

http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/2LOOyz/www.myonlinedatingservice.com/

http://community.seattletimes.nwsource.com/archive/?date=20040905&slug=internethorror05

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/11699105/

Tiia

copyright © 2010  Tiia Jones

Wal Mart Quote courtesy of: http://hiphappy.wordpress.com/2008/05/25/rednecks-over/

How Hard Can It Be?

My former co-teacher and best friend, Jenny, and I have a belief that, whenever someone says, “How hard can it be?” it is invariably much harder than you ever imagined or hoped it would be. Whatever it is, this is always the case.

 

 

Some Common Examples of How Hard Can It Be

• Putting together easy-to-assemble furniture
• Programming your DVR
• Returning a blouse to Target with a receipt
• Finding something that is lost in a contained area
• Getting an email ready to send when you are in a hurry
• Changing batteries in a flashlight
• Locating an article you saw before on the Internet
• Helping your child with algebra homework
• Explaining to the insurance company that these are not your charges
• Checking to see if a flight is on time
• Taking toys out of plastic packaging
• Getting through an automated answering service so you can talk to a real person at a government office
• Getting a baby to sleep

The fact of the matter is, that with my magical thinking, once you have uttered these words the task WILL be harder than you ever dreamed. At least that’s what I think, and because I think it, it’s true. To me.

The same is true about writing your Internet dating profile. It seems like it should be easy, but once you’ve said those fateful words it’s not so simple at all. You find yourself worrying that maybe by being completely “out there” with yourself, you are being vulnerable or that you are eliminating the ONE PERSON you are meant to be with for the rest of your life. And at least, if you are me, it becomes worse than programming your DVR.

I think another reason for the “How Hard” phenomenon when writing my profile is that I wanted to be all things to all people. I worried that if he didn’t like me or I didn’t like him during the correspondence or (God forbid) the date, then that would just be horrible. I put a lot of stress on writing it just right.

How hard can it be?

Luckily, if you follow the guidelines and also the ones on my Facebook Group you can be empowered to get past the anxiety and worry. It may still be hard, but at least you’ll know that it isn’t as big of a deal as you might think and you can keep your sense of humor. Here are some reassurances:

1. There are many people out there looking for YOU. There may not be many single, sane people out there, but that is entirely a different story. Baby steps.

2. It’s only a date. You aren’t obligated to spend the rest of your life with this guy/girl anymore than you have to return to the same supermarket or Jiffy Lube. In and Out in a Jiffy.

3. Unlike the employees who work in Customer Service (see video below), the people on Internet dating sites are there on purpose! They want to want you!

I think I would have gone a little Rambo on these ladies, but how hard can it be to buy some make-up?

4. Most things that result in frustration (after the inevitable “how hard can it be”?) are a result of expectations. You expect the baby to sleep within four hours or the toy to come out of its packaging without causing a trip to the emergency room for stitches (silly you!), and then when your expectations aren’t met, you are disappointed. With profile writing, remember that it’s like cold calling and you’ll have to date a LOT to meet someone you really like. Don’t expect to like the first guy/girl you chat with. Or the fifty-second. Two hundred fifty first dates later, I am still as tenacious as ever.

5. But I’m also very, very good at it. I can construct an online dating profile to elicit the response that I want. Just like with algebra, practice helps. OK, well I still have to Google inequalities, but I’m working on it. Take this, algebra!

(4 * (3/4)x) + (4 * (1/2)) = 4(3/2)

Solution:  x = 4/3

How hard can it be?

copyright © 2010  Tiia Jones

Happy Hour Dating Dilemmas

It’s time for two Happy Hour Dating Dilemmas. More and more, I am asked questions about Internet dating. In the grocery store, when I’m picking up my dry cleaning, at my aerobics class, by email, on Facebook, Twitter, and even at my daughter’s middle school. I guess once you’ve been on over 250 online first dates, you get to be known as something of an expert.

I am happy to help. For one thing, I don’t think anyone should have to go through what I did. Dating stalkers and lawyers is not a great deal of fun. Secondly, if vicariously we can learn through the mistakes of others who are experts, then isn’t that better? I mean, the self-help book industry is making millions off of it for a reason.

So here are two Happy Hour Dating Dilemmas (they are two-for-ones), and I plan to feature two more every couple of weeks. Of course the names and identifying details are changed to protect the innocent and, sometimes, the very very guilty.

Dear Tiia,

I have been corresponding with a girl from one of the online dating services. We seem to have quite a bit in common, so we set up a time to meet. Then, out of nowhere, in an email she asked me, “Do you think you’ll like me? What happens if you don’t like me? What do you see happening at our first date?” Her picture seems fine (though that’s not the most important thing to me), and she has many good qualities like a sense of humor and intelligence, but this put me off. I’m not sure how to respond. Do you think she’s looking for a one-night stand?

Signed,

Worried William

Double W,

She sounds really insecure more than anything. I doubt that she’s looking for a one-night stand. I DO think that it’s really bad Internet dating etiquette, however, on her part for exactly the reasons you’ve described. It makes her seem desperate which is never attractive and is confusing. You have two choices: try to reassure her and go ahead with the date or back out now and consider this a red flag. I know which one I’d pick. But then, I’ve seen a lot of flags.

Tiia

Dear Tiia,

I really would like to start online dating. I have been divorced for over three years, and I’m a single mom. I’m attractive and well-educated. But I don’t know how to write the profile and I’m scared of getting rejected. Help!

Nurse Nightengale

Night,

For one thing, in the US today as many marriages are begun on the Internet as in church (one-fifth). What are you waiting for? What is the worst thing that can happen? You don’t meet someone? Well, you already AREN’T meeting someone! So…duh, this is a no-brainer.

Believe me, there are so many men out there who want to meet you or someone like you. It takes courage and determination, but so does raising kids on your own and you’re doing that. So either watch another episode of “iCarly” and feel sorry for yourself, or start writing that profile.

As for that profile, remember my adage, “Online dating is a lot like a job interview and should be treated as such.” The dating profile is similar to the job application. You want to present yourself in as positive a light as possible without lying. Save the reptile collection and acid reflux for later…much later. You are marketing a product--yourself. In that respect, you are writing advertising copy for a very desirable person so your profile copy should be catchy, funny, intelligent, and warm. Above all, it should NOT have spelling or grammar errors. For more on profile writing check out the relevant article on the Discussion tab of my Facebook Page or email me. Good luck and happy dating!

Tiia

And now, the results of the latest blog survey. The question was, “As a single parent, how do you approach dating someone with/without children,” and the results surprised me.

• 42.9%  don’t screen potential dates based on whether or not they have kids but on other factors
• 28.6% prefer potential mates who have kids but if other factors are great they’d consider dating them
• 28.6% also said that they prefer daters who do not have kids but if other factors are great they’d give it a try
• 28.6% (a three-way tie) said that it really just depends on the individual person.
• 14.3% reported that they only date people who have children.
• 0% said they only date men/women who do not have children

A new survey starts this week, and the topic is: First Date Pet Peeves! Please make sure to register your vote.

copyright © 2010  Tiia Jones

Nurse picture courtesy of gryphonscry.wordpress.com

Booty Call Man--Strings Attached

PROFILE    Denny1968 Enjoying all that life has to offer! Active within 2 days  30-year-old-man Colorado Springs, CO United States Seeking women 25-35 Within 30 miles of Albuquerque, NM, United States Relationships: Divorced Have Kids: No Want Kids: Not sure Ethnicity: Caucasian Body type: About average  Height: 6’0” Hair Color: Light brown  Eye Color: Blue Smoke: No way Drink: Regularly Education Level:  High School My Job: Labor/construction Interests: Music & concerts, , fishing and hunting, reading, watching sports, camping, hiking, woodcarving, travel (US)

My friend Wombat at Kiss & Blog recently posted on the idea that women sometimes have difficulty allowing themselves pleasure because they tend to self-flagellate and there are double standards. It sparked off an interesting discussion from both men and women about how differently the two genders perceive sexual encounters. That got me to thinking about booty calls.

A word on booty calls. There is nothing wrong with booty calls. Casual sex for the sake of casual sex has its time and place. In fact, I am all for it if done safely and sanely and, preferably, somewhat soberly. The problem with booty calls is that from a woman’s perspective, it is frequently difficult to limit the sex to its impersonal nature. I don’t know if this is because society dictates that women are not allowed to have booty calls or if we as women begin to project some deeper emotion than is warranted by the detached nature of the dirty deed.

But I decided to find myself a booty call man. Call it comfort food. I deserve it, I told myself. Leah’s anxiety had become so bad that I couldn’t even leave her in the nursery while I worked out at the gym; they’d come and find me because she was hyperventilating. On the other hand, when we would pray together at night before bed, she’d say, “Dear Jesus, please send me a new Daddy so I won’t be scared anymore.” I’d stand in the doorway of her room so she wouldn’t see me crying. I wanted to produce one. If only it were that easy.

But I found myself wanting something totally different. I wanted someone I could have sex with for a couple of hours and never see again. I found a guy whose picture looked really good, but his narrative revealed that he was none too intelligent. He met very few of my rules, and we had almost nothing in common (I mean, camping, woodcarving, labor/construction?). He was perfect! I shipped Leah off to the babysitter’s house—and I was ready for action.

My first major mistake in this booty call catastrophe was that I had him come to my house. This goes against every rule of safe Internet dating that I now know and that is available for anyone who has a computer. Those guidelines simply did not exist then. Actually, now that I think about it, it doesn’t even make good common sense so I must have really wanted to get laid.

As I was waiting for him to arrive, I was trying to concentrate on the book I was reading while at the same time maintaining a seductive pose lying on the couch (think Cleopatra). Finally, I could see car lights approaching the back gate of my townhouse and I glanced up to see a camper trailer parking in the free visitor space. Now this was an interesting development. I didn’t really anticipate the hot booty call guy would be driving a camper trailer, but what was I to do now?

He parked and knocked at the back door and I let him in. We wasted little time on small talk and informalities, but got right down to business. I guess when you email someone to come over to your house at 9:00 on a Friday night they know what you are interested in. The casual sex was, well, casual. It was quick and expedient and less than satisfying. Kind of like those Slimfast shakes you’re supposed to drink to replace meals.

Then either society or my sensitive woman side kicked in and I wanted it to be more than it was. “Can’t you stay the night,” I said and I wasn’t even sure if I could believe the words were coming out of my own mouth. Did I remember this guy drove a camper trailer which he very likely lived in?

He looked at me steadily as he pulled on his Levi’s. “I don’t think so. I have to get back to the campground or I’ll lose my spot.”

I knew it! What the hell was I thinking? My head had no control over my mouth at this point. “Well can we see each other again?” and even I could hear a bit of a plaintive whine creeping into my voice.

“I thought this was just sex,” he said and now he looked away as he buttoned his shirt.

Yeah me too buddy but apparently my mouth didn’t get the message. “Yeah OK,” I said. It sounded flat, however, and he looked at me with the slightest tinge of sympathy before giving me a quick hug.

As he drove away, I silently prayed to the gods of dating that he would forget where I lived and never, ever tell anyone what had transpired here tonight.

copyright © 2010  Tiia Jones

The Lawyer and the MILF

PROFILE   RJD80 “Ah, women. They make the highs higher and the lows more frequent.” Friedrich Nietzsche Active within 1 week 42-year-old-man Albuquerque, NM  United States Seeking women 30-45 Within 50 miles of Albuquerque, NM, United States Relationships: Divorced Have Kids: Yes and sometimes they live at home Want Kids: No but it’s OK if my partner has kids Ethnicity: No answer Body type: About average  Height: 5’10” Hair Color: Dark brown  Eye Color: Brown Smoke: No way Drink: Moderately Education Level:  PhD/Post doctoral My Job: Legal Interests: Music/videos, fine dining, reading, travel (US and foreign), performing arts, museums, cultural events, music & concerts, home repairs

I was fat. No doubt about it. I’d gained fifteen pounds during the nine month relationship with Richard. Most people eat when they are stressed out, but I do the opposite. When I am happy and things are good, I like to have a good meal. Or two. Being in a relationship apparently agreed with me—but not with my wardrobe.

Richard had told me in the beginning of our relationship that his marital prenup consisted, in part, of a clause that said that if his wife gained more than ten pounds from the marriage weight, he had the right to divorce her. I knew my weight gain was a big deal and yet I couldn’t seem to find the gumption to do anything productive about it.

I finally started running again when I saw a picture of myself that I didn’t even recognize. It didn’t help that I had to buy pants with elastic waistbands and drawstrings.

Richard encouraged me with the running. I knew it was important to him that I get (back) in shape. I’m not petite under the best of circumstances, but I figured he had a right for me to look like I did when he first met me.

“You’re starting to slim down,” he said during a trip we took to San Diego.

I stared at him. The words stung because he so rarely doled out praise but was so free with criticism. “Yeah. I’ve been working at it.”

He was also critical of my parenting. He thought that Leah was indulged and spoiled.

One night at my house, Richard and I had planned to watch a movie. I’d put Leah to bed—in her own bed for a change, which I thought was progress. The house had such a strange layout that her bedroom door was up a short flight of stairs from the living room where the television was. Richard asked me to close her bedroom door.

I stared at him. “B . . . but she can’t sleep with the door closed.”

“Tiia,” he began forcefully. “This is a simple problem. You are the mother. You are thirty five years old. She is seven. Take control of the situation. Tell her you are closing the door. That’s it. You let everyone walk all over you and dictate how you live your life—your father, Leah, your friends, everyone. I won’t put up with it. I just won’t.”

I shook my head. I wanted this to work for so many reasons, not the least of which was my current low self-esteem and ongoing lack of confidence as a single parent. “But it’s not a simple problem. Don’t you see? She has abandonment issues. She has seen a therapist for years.”

“No she’s just manipulating you and controlling you. It’s utterly ridiculous.”

After more than 150 dates and almost four years, I was getting weary and discouraged; I knew something didn’t feel right for me, but I was on a relationship path that I didn’t want to or couldn’t leave.

Then in walked Graydon—literally. Leah and I lived in a converted mobile home that butted up against another small house. A young man had recently moved into the house next door, and I had seen him a few times and waved.

He was tall and built like a body builder with bulging muscles that he liked to display by wearing muscle shirts and shorts. One afternoon after dropping Leah off for a sleepover at Jenny’s, there was a knock at the door and there was Graydon.

“You left the trunk of your car open,” he said with a winning smile, “I thought ya might want to know.”

Oh boy, did I. “Thank you. Hey, come in. You’re Graydon, right?” His eyes were a pale blue, and he seriously could not have been more than twenty-five (he was twenty-two as I found out).

“OK just for a minute, but I have a cold so I don’t want to stay long.” His voice sounded gravelly and his eyes were a little bloodshot. Poor baby!

“You poor thing! What are you taking for it?”

He looked despondent. “I don’t have anything. What do you think I should take?”

I suggested a variety of cold remedies, which when I brought them over to him later that evening, included a backrub. He assured me that this was a necessary component of his getting well. I didn’t want to argue with his medical needs.

Backrubs, as we all know, often lead to frontrubs. Graydon was no exception. For being such a young pup, he displayed no lack of sexual experience.

I so would like to say that I thought of Richard as this hot, young stud fulfilled his MILF fantasy. I would even more like to say that I remembered that Richard, like most lawyers, had serious trust issues and had made me promise over and over to be faithful.

The fact is, it made me feel good. For a change, my self-image and even my body image was the one reflected back in Graydon’s eyes and I liked it. He wasn’t what I was looking for in a long-term partner, but Graydon made me realize that the one I had wasn’t what I was looking for either.

***To Be Continued***

Image of Joe Mantegna courtesy of Forensis Channel.forumfree

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

Poker Face

PROFILE  Garth67 Wanted: Romantic partner in crime! Active within 24 hours 36-year-old man Albuquerque, NM  United States Seeking women 33-45 Within 100 miles of Albuquerque, NM, United States Relationships: Divorced Have Kids: Yes and sometimes they live at home Want Kids: No but it’s OK if my partner has kids Ethnicity: Caucasian Body type: Stocky Height: 6’3” Hair Color: Blonde Eye Color: Blue Smoke: No way Drink: Regularly Education Level:  Bachelor’s degree My Job: Self employed/entrepreneur Interests: Music/videos, fine dining, playing cards, jeeping, poker, nightclubs/dancing, sports betting, music & videos, science & technology

 

Jenny and I decided to call him “Girth” for very good reason. In this PG forum, let’s just say he was well-endowed. In fact, we called him Girth so often in our conversations about him, that I began to worry that I’d slip up and mistakenly say, “How are you Girth?” instead of Garth when I talked to him.

The first thing I liked about him, though (being of course unable to check out his package during a first date encounter), was his taste in music.

“What type of music do you usually listen to?” Garth asked as he met me back in the casino lounge where I was listening to the band playing. He had been playing cards and had suggested that I go there to wait for him.

I’m such a music nerd. I never answer this question by telling potential mates that I have seen REO Speedwagon in concert five times. “I’m eclectic in my music tastes. I listen to a little bit of everything. You?”

“I like a lot of the 80s stuff.” He was a music nerd too!

The second thing was the “Buckle the Seatbelt” trick.

We were getting ready to leave the casino, and he walked me out to my car. When I got into my car, he leaned over me and buckled my seatbelt gently in one of the most endearing, protective gestures I had ever seen on a first date.

So he had three big positives. One really, really big one.

But…remember the casino?

He told me during our first date that the reason his ex-wife left him was because she thought he had a problem with gambling.

You might be telling yourself that I should have been alarmed since he planned this first date at a casino, but alas, I was blinded by the seatbelt trick (and did I mention he liked Van Halen—and none of that Sammy Hagar stuff either). He said he’d had a thing for teachers ever since Van Halen’s “Hot for Teacher” song—see below.

Then, a few dates later we were at his house. He was in the shower and the phone rang. I hate a ringing phone, so I picked it up.

“Is Garth Turnell in?” asked the voice who I thought I recognized as Tony Soprano.

“Um, no, well he’s in the shower.”

“I’ll wait,” Tony said.

“It might be a few minutes. I can definitely have him call you,” I said.

“I can definitely wait.”

Alrighty then. I set the phone down and went in to the bathroom. “There’s some guy on the phone who sounds like Tony Soprano. I tried to take a message and I told him you were in the shower, but he said he would wait.”

Girth ripped open the shower curtain violently. “You what?! Why did you answer my phone?”

I was confused and hurt. “Because it was ringing. I didn’t know it was a big deal. I’m so sorry.”

“Well it IS a big deal.” He grabbed a towel off of the towel bar and wrapped it around his waist, striding over to the phone.

“Hello?” he said morosely, as he picked up the receiver off of the bed.

“Yes, Billy, I understand that.” I guess it wasn’t Tony Soprano after all. Whatever the case, Girth did not sound too happy to be talking to him.

He rolled his eyes at me. “I know I said I was out of town, and I was but I just got back. Yes I know I need to get that payment to you. Yes . . “

“I am aware of that.” His voice was high and tight. He looked around the room.

“I am aware of that too.”

“Yes Billy, I will. By Friday. Goodbye.” He put his head in his hands.

I had seen—and heard—enough by then to figure that Girth was in way over his heads; substantial though they both were. Anyway, music nerd + romantic seatbelt buckling trick + large wedding tackle does not compensate for potential kneecap-breaking gambling debts to The Sopranos.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

love.com: The Garter Belt Incident

PROFILE  RedSoxFan There’s no crying in love or baseball Active within 2 days 39-year-old man Rio Rancho, NM  United States Seeking women 30-45 Within 30 miles of Albuquerque, NM, United States Relationships: Divorced Have Kids: Yes and sometimes they live at home Want Kids: Definitely Ethnicity: Caucasian Body type: Stocky Height: 5’11” Hair Color: Brown Eye Color: Brown Smoke: Never Drink: Social drinker Education Level:  Bachelor’s degree My Job: Civil service Interests: Watching sports, baseball, playing sports, video games, music & videos, computers & technology, hiking, networking, Victoria’s Secret (LOL)

Dating Rules Broken by RedSoxFan During First Date:
1. Chewed with mouth open
2. Did not open door for me
3. Only talked about himself (Well, this is not entirely true.  Actually, he only talked about the Boston Red Sox.  They play baseball, in case you were wondering because I was a little unclear.)
4. Displayed stalker tendencies
5. Heebie Jeebie Meter was set off by a weird desire for women’s lingerie

With this kind of batting average, you’d think I forfeited or put him in the penalty box—I think that’s actually a hockey reference but my sports metaphors are a little weak—but the truth is my dating had hit a bit of a dry spell.  More like what my old rancher friend Lou Dodo (real name, there’s nothing I could make up that would be funnier, right?) used to say about farming in Western Colorado:  “It’s a drought.  It’s always a drought.  Even when we get a little rain; it’s still a drought.”

So I was willing to let a few things slide.  Ok, maybe a lot of things.  Even when he said he really wanted me to wear a garter belt and stockings for our second date.

Pre-Game Show for RedSoxFan

• Go to Victoria’s Secret to buy garter belt, panties, and stockings.  Fall over dead when they tell me the price is slightly less than my utility bill.
• Look at contraption.  It looks a little like something I’d wear for “Crazy Hat Day” at school or maybe something you’d use to muzzle a dog.  But that’s ok, because I’m tenacious.  And it’s a drought.
• Put garter belt on…upside down.
• Realize that the hookey onny thingys need to be pointing down not up and turn it the other way around.
• Slide stockings on, snagging one with fingernail.
• Get out nail polish to fix run.  Finding only red, which may ruin the smoldering sexy look I’m going for, I ask my  eight year-old for her Bonne Bell clear nail polish.
• Paint on.  Bend in half and blow on leg to dry.  Leah says, “Why are you kissing your leg, Momma.”  Don’t answer that.
• Pour glass of wine for fortification and hydration since by now I’ve worked up a sweat.
• Attempt to fasten hookey onny thingys to stockings.  It is not at all obvious how to do this.  There are no marks (connect hook A to point B on stocking) and it is more difficult than IKEA furniture.
• Upon further examination, it appears that the two pairs of hooks should be positioned opposite one another on either side of each leg.  This requires bending like a circus contortionist.
• When I finally get first pair of hooks on one stocking, I pass out from being upside-down for so long.
• Upon regaining consciousness, I refill my wine glass because I pretty much just completed a Pilates workout.
• Get VS package out of trash and consult to see if there are helpful hints because surely I’m doing something wrong.  There aren’t.
• Consult clock.  I am already one hour late for date but damn it I will be wearing hot black garters.
• Finish second pair of hookey onny thingys on one leg.
• Leah: “Mom, is that gymnastics?”
• Take deep breaths to avoid passing out again.
• Put on second stocking, and begin attaching hooks on left leg.  In the middle of the first set of hooks, the hook snags the stocking all the way up making it completely unwearable.
• Pour another glass of wine.
• Call to cancel date.  Strike three, you’re out.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

Is That a Kiwi in Your Purse, or Are You Just Glad to See Me?

Recently, Dating Diva blogged about how her keys had become symbolic of her emotional baggage.  She needed to shed some of it to move on with her life.

It got me to thinking.

I don’t have so many keys really, but my purse is another story.  I asked my friends on Facebook for their input about the strangest things they’ve ever found in their purses.  I was amazed at the responses.  People have found:

• needle nosed pliers
• corkscrew
• eight track tape
• pampers (I’m assuming fresh)
• stun gun
• large spider in a jar
• clean socks
• razor
• cat food
• “part” of a condom (I don’t even want to know)
• Tabasco
• hard boiled, dyed Easter egg
• chocolate Santa Claus (holiday theme, but not from the same person)
• handcuffs (I didn’t ask, but she might want to meet up the man with the dungeon)
• kiwi (that was mine)

I think we hold onto these things because we are afraid to throw them away.  We might need them someday.  We’re reluctant to get rid of them on the off chance that they might be the one thing that will come in handy.  You never know when someone is going to have an eight track tape player, but when they do, you’ll be ready.

We do the same thing with our dating profile parameters.  We are afraid to ask for what we really want because we might eliminate the one person we think is out there for us and send them galloping off on their cyber white horse.  But really, it’s empowering to be picky.

You want someone who hasn’t been married?  Got it.  Someone with a college degree?  Done.  Someone who reads comic books, plays putt putt, and listens to Norah Jones?  He’s out there.  He’s not on my list, but he might be perfect for you.

I’ve said it before, but it’s a lot like searching for a job.  When you start looking for a job, you don’t begin by looking at every listing for which you might have the minimum qualifications.  Instead, you start by looking at the ones that pay the best, suit your qualifications and work experience, have the best free coffee, etc.  If you are an accountant, you don’t start by looking at the ads for all night clerks at 7/11.

When I started Internet dating, I should have been very specific in choosing exactly what I liked and wanted and needed from a date.

Unfortunately, instead of going with the best of the best, the cream of the crop, and then if I didn’t find anyone, lowering the bar, I cast a wide net desperately to see what I could find. This wasn’t how I hunted for jobs, but in the beginning it was how I hunted for online dates. 

I was afraid to get rid of the stuff in my purse; to eliminate people.  I might need them someday.  That guy with the three felony convictions might not be so bad, right, and who was I to judge? 

The truth is, though, you won’t ever need that Tabasco OR those socks that are in your purse.  And you definitely won’t need the kiwi (which turned into a disgusting lump of brown mush that I stuck my hand into one day during class).  Throw them out. 

Then we might be able to find the one we really deserve.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

 

love.com: Bad First Date Ideas

PROFILE SgtHenry Take a chance with a man like me! Active within 24 hours 36-year-old man Colorado Springs, CO, United States Seeking women 25-35 Within 15 miles of Colorado Springs, Colorado, United States Relationships: Divorced Have Kids: Yes and sometimes they live at home Want Kids: Definitely Ethnicity: African American Body type: Athletic and toned Height: 6’1” Hair Color: Bald Eye Color: Dark brown Smoke: Cigar aficionado Drink: Moderately Education Level:  Bachelor’s degree My Job: Law enforcement Interests: Playing sports, watching sports, playing cards, music & concerts, video games, nightclubs/dancing, home repair, gun collecting, jewelry making

He looked a lot like LL Cool J in his profile picture, but I should have been concerned by the fact that all of his pictures had the tell-tale signs of women having been edited out before being posted. Each one had an obviously feminine arm draped over his shoulder or just the sliver of a blonde woman’s face and hair in the corner. I should have been concerned, but I was blinded by the sheer magnetism of his sexuality.

Our first date was to be at a wine tasting. I love wine. I love wine tastings. I love first dates with hot men. What could go wrong?

“Hello beautiful,” said the chocolate hunk of wonderful waiting for me by the entrance to the festival. His physical presence did not disappoint. Since he worked as a policeman I knew he: a. carried a gun and b. wore a uniform. These are both advantages in my dating book.

The Wine Fest was lovely with gorgeous weather. The heat made it deceptively simple to down the little two-ounce samples of judgment clouders that the wine vendors hand out once you have paid the price of admission. They’re small, right?  It’s only a teensy taste.

In fact, by the time we were done tasting I didn’t think that I could drive back home. “I’ll take you home,” Henry offered. He had not done as much sampling as I had.

“Yes, I think that would be a good idea,” I said as I stumbled to his car. 

He laughed, “Yeah, I don’t think you should be driving anywhere.”

Well suffice it to say, I did not follow the three-date rule that night. I hold the organizers of the wine tasting completely responsible. In fact, I should sue them!

I don’t remember a great deal about the sex. To be really honest, there are many parts of that entire day that I don’t recall either, which is why I have added that to my list of terrible first date ideas.

“Aaaarrgghhh!” I screeched as the morning sun streamed in through my window. I had to suppress another screech when I saw a naked black man lying next to me. How did he get there?  Random snatches of the night’s activities were vaguely present in my memory, but they were fogged by a horrible, pounding headache.

Thankfully, he said he had to leave soon since I didn’t know how long I was going to be able to be civil. But we made plans to go out to dinner the following weekend where I assured him I would be more coherent.

“Actually,” he smiled languidly, “you were pretty fun last night.”

I smiled back weakly.  It hadn’t been my proudest moment.

Our dinner date was at a rather cheesy chain restaurant, but I figured maybe a police sergeant didn’t have time or opportunity to scope out the most unique hideaways.

“I am so sorry about last weekend,” I said as we hugged hello. I noticed that he didn’t even stand up to greet me. And was it my imagination, or did he look rather less like LL Cool J than I remembered?

“Nah,” he said with a shrug, “don’t worry about it. You were just drunk as a skunk. But you were damn good in bed! Let’s have a toast to that!” He signaled to the waiter to bring him a beer and me a glass of the house wine. (House wine?  Do I look like I drink house wine?)

Waiting for our drinks, Henry reached over to caress my breast, and I maneuvered strategically out of the way of his hand. “You fine baby,” he said.

Then, he took out a large bundle of dollar bills secured with a golden money clip that had a large “G” on it with a dollar sign. I was wondering what the “G” stood for and how I had possibly missed all of these clear signals during the first date.  “Your honor, she cannot be held responsible.  It was temporary dating insanity caused by alcohol obfuscation.”  I was interrupted by Henry’s positioning of the menu directly in front of my breasts.

“Order whatever you want baby,” he said as he flashed a lewd smile at me, “I got this.”

“Well I hope so,” I said, “because I don’t.” I figured this date wasn’t going to get any better so I might as well make sure he knew I wasn’t picking up the tab.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones

love.com: Never Date a Man with Five Cats

 

Boyzdad Life can be crazy—let’s explore the insanity together! Active within 1 days 40-year-old man Colorado Springs, CO, United States Seeking women 30-40 Within 15 miles of Colorado Springs, Colorado, United States Relationships: Divorced Have Kids: Yes and they live at home Want Kids: Probably not Ethnicity: Caucasian Body type: Athletic & toned Height: 6’0” Hair Color: Salt & pepper Eye Color: Hazel Smoke: No way Drink: Moderately Education Level: PhD/Post doctoral My Job: Legal Interests: Camping, watching sports, travel (US and international), video games, dining out, business networking, reading, cultural events, photography

We began our week picking out a new family member.  Leah and I don’t have a very good track record with pets. She had very severe allergies as a baby that necessitate having pets with no fur or feathers. We’ve had fish that died and water turtles that were very stinky, so the tortoise is my newest idea. Plus, she loves the Franklin the Turtle books. So here we were.

“I’m not sure if this is going to work,” said the pimply, teenage employee of Pet Village in the mall.

I flashed him a sharp look that was meant to convey the unspoken message that I didn’t really care what he thought. Hadn’t he ever heard of the customer is always right?

Leah and I were standing at one end of a long aisle in the pet store while another store employee placed four tortoises at the other end about ten feet away.

“Okay babycakes,” I told her, “call them.”

“Franklin! Oh Franklin….come here Franklin,” said Leah as she patted her leg as if calling a dog. Two of the tortoises did not budge. A third began creeping to the left of the aisle under a dog food display, and the more cooperative Pet Village employee nudged it with her foot to put it back on course. The fourth tortoise began a slow and steady trek down the aisle. It looked like we had found Franklin.

“He likes me Mommy. Franklin the turtle likes me!” Leah gushed as she picked up the leader of the tortoise pack and held him to her chest. Who would have thought a tortoise could be cuddly?

I gave the pimply employee an “I told you so” sort of look as I asked the girl to help me pick out the assorted items one would need to care for a land tortoise (there were a lot, surprisingly), and we took Franklin home.

In general, I’m not much of a pet sort of person. I don’t have the patience or the fortitude that it takes to deal with them. I don’t like messes or inconvenience. However, I recognize that it is important for children to have something alive to love and care for.

“There Mom, hold Franklin. Pat his shell. He likes it when you rub it in circles,” Leah said as I was sitting down several mornings later to grade papers.

I handed the tortoise back to her a bit impatiently. “Leah, I don’t have time for this right now. I’ve held this turtle twice already this morning.”

“He is not a turtle,” she said, her blue eyes flashing.

In between holding Franklin, I began seeing Spencer.  The first couple of dates went well.  He was passably attractive in a distinguished sort of way. The first thing I noticed was that he stood when I entered the restaurant.

“You are more enchanting than your picture,” he said as we conducted small talk over a wine that had been opened carefully at our table and that was nothing short of orgasmic.

“Thank you. It’s good to finally meet. I know our schedules have been difficult to coordinate,” I said as I struggled to focus. My mouth was having a little party.  Ok, so he was a little bit over the top, but the wine was really good.

I knew that he had three sons, two of whom were teenagers and one of whom was slightly younger. “What sort of law do you practice?” Spencer was the second in my succession of attorneys and apparently dealt only in divorce law.

“Wow, I bet that’s challenging,” I replied, “and depressing.”

“It’s not bad,” he answered with a slight smile, “My boys help me stay positive. Plus we have five cats that we shower with love.”

Five cats? Who has five cats? One or two cats, maybe, but five? “Oh, that’s quite a few cats,” I said honestly.

The second date was more relaxed since we went to a movie, and it was nice to see him in a slightly less buttoned-up environment.  So we were on to lucky date #3.  And we ALL know what that means!

For this auspicious date, we had tentatively planned to go to his house after dinner. I knew that he lived somewhere in the very ritzy Broadmoor area, so I followed him to the posh neighborhood when we had finished our bananas flambé (yes a little cart with fire at our table-you gotta love that).

As I had expected, the average price range of the houses we passed was more than I would make in the next ten years. There were guard houses every few blocks and high, ivy-covered walls bordering the secluded streets. He pulled in to a large stone-front house with a sloping driveway. It had two garages, and he opened one with a remote. I parked behind him in the driveway and waited for him to park his car.

“Here we are,” he said as he got out of the car and waited for me to walk inside the garage. He closed it behind me. I looked around. The garage was extremely messy, but then I figured that three boys and a single dad would have lots of projects they might have to store in a garage. There was sporting equipment piled everywhere in no particular order and bags of what appeared to be trash. There was also the faint odor of kitty litter. Though it was a two-car garage, the car barely fit in because of the sheer amount of stuff collected at random.

“You’ll have to excuse the mess,” said Spencer as if he knew my thoughts, “I keep thinking we’re going to get around to cleaning this place up, but you know how it goes.”

Before opening the door to the house, he took me into his arms and kissed me. It was a long, searching kiss full of promise and passion. My pulse began to quicken as I contemplated what lay ahead.

The door opened into the kitchen and beyond that I could see the large living area. Though it had obviously been a beautiful house at one time, now the entire house appeared to be filled with clutter and filth. There was no space in the kitchen that was free of dirty dishes, many of which were covered with congealed grease and rotting food. The smell of feral cats was completely overpowering. The floor underneath my shoes crunched with dirty cat litter and the occasional cat feces. I could see cats perched on the kitchen counters and the tops of the couches.

The living room past the kitchen was piled with boxes, papers, books, and bags of what appeared to be more kitty litter. There was even men’s underwear hanging from a lampshade. I had never seen anything like it, except on those television shows where the Health Department takes the person’s house away because it is so filthy.

Now I realize that I am more obsessive-compulsive about cleanliness than the average person, but this was beyond the pale. Even from a pure sanitation standpoint, I was not sure it was a safe place to be. I certainly could not think about doing the wild thing in such a wild environment.

But since we were already on date three, I had no phone call to give me an out. I looked at Spencer with panicked eyes.

“What’s wrong,” he asked. He obviously did not see anything strange in this chamber of horrors.

“I am not feeling well at all,” I said as I shook my head violently from side to side. This was not a lie. “I am going to have to go home.”

He looked at me with obvious concern. “What’s wrong? I’ll take you home.”

“No, no. It’s OK. I just need to go home. I just have a headache and I need to go. I’m sorry,” I said as I started to back slowly toward the door to the garage. I heard an angry “Meow!” as I stepped on one of the many cats. Was it possible there were only five? They were everywhere!

Should I get Doritos on the way home?  Definitely.  And a little treat for Franklin.

copyright © 2009  Tiia Jones