…Damn, I Got Bitches! A Inside Look into My month of Online Dating

Author’s Note: I debated a lot about whether I would actually write about this subject. There are so many variables at play; the main things being that I don’t ever want the blog to come off as way of exploiting and violating people’s privacy or making fun of others in any way that is not completely anonymous. Also, though I do it often, I am not all that fond of embarrassing myself! Ultimately I decided that I should always make an effort to give the readers what they want (all 12 of you!) and trust that my purpose and intentions will remain clear throughout my purging process.


My actual online dating profile pic! Complete with about 7 filters and my most undesirable features cropped out…

The Reasons (In no particular order):

1. There is a negative stigma attached to online dating, kind of like you are definitely losing if you have to resort to such a thing. On some level I used to agree and think that online dating was only for weirdos, losers and murderers. However it’s 2014 and this seems like a natural progressive step for the dating world. After trying it out, I realize there are a lot of good options on the world wide web, though I have found that there are some men attracted to it because it is really fun, but also lazy. “You mean I can pick up hot chicks from the comfort of my own home without loud club music and uncomfortable dress shoes?! Sign me up…”  (Also, it should be noted that the quality of my options were most likely affected by the fact that I chose to use OkCupid which is a free service—as opposed to one that people have to invest money in. I find the word “free” usually attracts an interesting bunch!)

2. I’ve always thought of online dating as a blogger’s wet dream. It is so random and delightfully unpredictable—what’s not to love about it? You can meet new characters almost every day and the plot and story changes as often as you decide to respond to a message. Ironically enough, this is also the reason that I debated about not writing these posts (so much happened, it’s a two-part series). I actually did meet some cool guys that honestly seemed genuinely interested in finding something real. Just because we had a bad experience, ephemeral connection or weird conversation doesn’t mean they are bad people and I wouldn’t want to feel as if I were making fun of them and their quest to find whatever fulfillment they might be searching for online. However, I’ve decided to write this out in such a way that mainly showcases how much of an asshole I am.

3. The final reason, and most likely the main reason I decided to embark on the adventure of online dating is because I had definitely lost my mojo and needed to do something proactive to get it back. I brought in 2014 dragging residual pain and bad habits from my attachment and fascination with a man whose obvious disinterest and lack of respect for me has done nothing but hurt and disappoint. It doesn’t help that due to circumstances beyond my control (Satan?) I keep running into this guy. I am ashamed of how much it continues to unnerve me. I don’t want any person to ever have that kind of power over me. I realized what a hit my self-esteem had taken by continuing to deal with this dude that clearly wanted nothing to do with me but I continued to let him toss me crumbs every now and then. (I’d be totally lying if I said I was over it—but I’m trying to get there)


Bachelor #1

B1 was an accident and I was really just bored one night and decided to respond to his message. I started talking to him for shits and giggles because normally I wouldn’t respond to someone that would message me declaring that I look “juicy”. Listen, I’m old and I have no idea what the kids are saying. I didn’t know what it meant but I was able to use context clues to figure it the hell out. I took a peek at his profile picture and of course I find that it’s just a body shot photo of oiled up six pack abs. (-_-) Furthermore, he was only 21 and it made me wonder why there wasn’t a filter to get rid of these young fucking dudes! I’ve been a magnet for them lately and I have no idea why.

I ended up talking to the dude and even forgave him after he sent me a dick pic. After we got past the random awkwardness of him using texting shorthand and slang I didn’t understand, we were actually able to have some honest conversations about why we were on the site and what exactly we were looking for. He seemed pretty anxious to meet up and my overall attitude was kind of like “Meh” (For whatever reason I realize that I don’t take young dudes seriously and I don’t want to be disrespectful so I try to avoid them altogether). We met up and he was good looking enough… I just wasn’t really feeling it and I don’t know why. I was really TRYING.

The conversation was good, he wasn’t a psychopath and I felt relaxed enough to completely be myself. After the meet up I couldn’t really tell his vibe but after I got home he text me and told me that he thought I was awesome—or something to that effect. This made me realize that is another pet peeve of mine. If you meet a man somewhere I think he should make his intentions clear and make some effort to create sexual tension. If you keep the vibe friendly then text me later that you’re into me it just really confuses me. Like, um did you have to think about it and decide to be into me or was there some sort of chemistry you were feeling at the moment and you didn’t want to talk about it? Anyway, I kept in touch with the dude via text because I liked his personality enough. I could see us hanging out without me wanting to murder him or tell him shut up and that’s really the stuff that relationships are made of. I decided to meet up with him again and try to be more flirty to try to get something off the ground.

Nope. It just wasn’t happening, and I wanted it to but no dice. He tried to talk about sex, I guess to spice things up, but I was answering questions as if I were filling out a form at the gynecologist’s office and not as if I were into him. When he dropped me off I was even planning to go in for a kiss or something (that always seemed to work for Zack on Saved by the Bell when he was trying to establish if he had genuine feelings for a girl). It turned out that I couldn’t even make that happen. There was just nothing there and I didn’t want to waste time on seven more dates trying to “see” if anything would pop off. Just…no. After that he would text me late at night and I would never really get the chance to respond or feel like responding once I woke up in the morning. I ended up just not responding to his messages and I was debating whether I should send him an “it’s not you, it’s me” email. The tough thing about online dating is that it was totally unclear as to whether I even owed him that courtesy or if it was just ok for me to just end correspondence and hope he got the hint.

Before I could even draft a rejection email he called me. I watched the screen light up on my phone and stared at it, frozen in horror. I didn’t want to talk to him!!! I was doing absolutely nothing, I had no excuse not to answer my phone but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. And because life sucks and I’m awkward I was on my phone a few minutes later and accidentally pressed the callback button. I have never hung up so fast in my life! I was hoping it all happened so quickly that the missed call wouldn’t even register on his phone but no such luck. He called me back immediately and I didn’t answer. That was the last he’s tried to contact me and I’m just relieved that it seems we both came to a mutual understanding and that’s that.


What I want in a nutshell. Why is this so difficult??


Bachelor #2

❤ Where do I begin? At a certain point in our lives we sometimes let lust take the wheel and lead us on one hell of a road trip— this was definitely one of those instances. Imagine my surprise when I go to check my messages one day and see a simple “hey beautiful” in my inbox. Oh God, who is this guy calling me beautiful? (I should mention I am a sucker for pet names, I don’t even care how sincere they are). I click on his profile and…my God I felt like I deserved this blessing in my life!! Long dread locs down his back, unassuming lean posture as he looked sheepishly and unsmiling into the camera. I didn’t care that he was  only 23, he was 6’3″!!! I have nothing against the shorter guys but a lady wants to break out her heels at least every once in a while! As a woman that stands above average height there is nothing that makes me feel more soft and womanly than a tall man’s body hovering over me looking down at me when he speaks. In his profile he described himself as laid back which is music to the ears of the high-strung like me. Clearly, I had stumbled upon my husband. Oh, what a fun story we would have to tell our children— this was obvious love at first sight! I messaged him back almost instantly (thirsty anyone?) and immediately gave him my email because I wanted to just hop to it. When can we meet? When can I see you? What are we doing? What will our wedding colors be?


I wish I could say that when we spoke there was an automatic spark, and I wish I could say that things were easy and just flowed— but no. I had to work just as hard for conversation as he had for his six-pack apparently. I make no apologies for this. As a woman of course I like to look at good-looking men, but when it comes to dating I ultimately don’t care about looks and believe everyone deserves a chance. In this case, I felt he deserved a chance in honor of every single beautifully sculpted muscle group in his body. B2 is not a talker or texter, however and unfortunately this just meant I blathered on while he “lol’d” at stuff. I normally hate this dynamic; it makes me feel like I’m doing stand up and bribing the hecklers to leave me alone by sleeping with them. But sometimes you have to follow your heart and compromise. Haha, totally kidding, I put up with it because I’m shallow :-/

When we finally met in person I was too mesmerized by his obliques to really be good for conversation. I almost completely overlooked the fact that his personality was actually pretty endearing. I didn’t know these guys still existed but he is either completely unaware if his good looks or just humble. Both are shocking traits to me. (I’m not naive, I’m sure he has PLENTY of female admirers and friends and he’s most likely banging them all, he’s 23 for God’s sake!) but I found our encounter surprisingly refreshing.

B2 and I actually still hang out, and it’s just a mutual understanding that we can’t text or I would have to kill him to avenge his slaying of the English language, for one. Another thing, my pet peeve is when dudes hit you up with the “Wyd” and after that have absolutely nothing to contribute to the conversation. If I am feeling particularly mean I usually say “Chillin” to make them aware that they are going to have to actually put some work into the conversation. As for B2, our communication is poor but a million times better in person because of his infectious giggle, how he rolls his eyes at me when I’m being ridiculous, and because he doesn’t demand anything deeper from me other than a good time. It is the perfect distraction.

I care about B2 but not in the way a girlfriend cares about a boyfriend. I feel we are enjoying our time together and it is the most light-hearted thing I have ever been involved in. Usually my emotions get caught up or theirs do and the dynamic of the arrangement becomes tense but I really think this one of those things that will simply fade away when one of us stops texting the other. I’ve never had a romantic involvement end peacefully so I have high hopes for this…


Bachelor #3

Sighhh, B3 is actually why ended up quitting the whole thing all together and deciding it wasn’t for me. He hit me up on a Super Bowl Sunday and I responded to his messages in between getting ready for the game. When I finally settled in I looked at his profile and discovered he was a cutie! He was maybe kind of a smaller guy but I liked the way his big brown eyes stared purposefully and directly into the camera. He had a beautiful smile and in his messages to me he kept commenting on how attractive he thought I was—which I hated.


I think I’ve mentioned this before but throughout this experience I in no way wanted to feel like I was cat fishing anyone. I posted plenty of pics on the site showing my full body, sitting down, standing, with makeup and without. I did this because black guys scale of judging women’s bodies is all sorts of skewed. I have an ass, I don’t have an ass, I’m thick, I’m big, I’m short, I’m tall—it’s all a matter of perception. So I posted as many pics as possible so when and if I decide to meet these dudes in person there would be no surprises. The only thing I couldn’t really capture is the gap-teeth because I don’t smile in most of my pictures because my face does a squinty Renee Zellwegger thing but not nearly as cute. Anyway, I just didn’t want to vibe with someone via messaging and text and finally meet up with them and have them accuse me of any sort of bamboozlement. Furthermore, I only consider looks to be about 10% of my appeal so I didn’t really have any qualms about posting a bunch of them.

So, I ended up really getting along with this dude. He was just the perfect amount of asshole/sweetheart mix and I hadn’t had a man make me laugh like that in so long. I was smitten. Eventually we got our single parent schedules to match up enough to have a meet up and thank the Lord he was exactly what I expected him to be. I really felt a connection and I was at least expecting that a friendship would develop between us if nothing else. Yeah—I could never be a fortune teller, I was just so wrong. The texts became few and far between until they just kind of faded into nothingness. I remembered how I had done the same with B1 and how he had the grace and humility to take the hint in stride and fall back so I opted to do the same with B3. I’m going through all my insecure body image stuff and I just kind of realized that if he’s not attracted to me or my body then that’s his right and I can’t force the situation just because I really like him. After all, we met on OKCupid—it’s not that serious.


I was rejected by a guy I met online– I know, biggest sob story EVER

Even now, I wonder if that was this guy’s deal and it hurts right smack dab in the middle of the self-esteem. But I can’t truly be mad, if you’re not attracted to someone you just aren’t and there’s nothing you can do to rekindle that spark once it dies so suddenly. My little feelings got hurt but I think I’m discovering that I can hardly take a shit these days without my heart being broken. It is inevitable. Everything is a gamble and I just need to smarten up or leave the fucking casino.


The Sociopath

When he hit me up on the messenger with a simple “What’s up, shorty” it was clear he had no manners at all nor was he interested in trying to appear charming. I like that kind of thing.  I wasn’t really all that attracted to the image in his pictures either, but as a part-time ornery person I saw this as an opportunity to practice my asshole skills, and besides, I went into this venture determined not to care about looks. Sighhh, I am not necessarily proud of what developed between me and this dude. I was very much drawn in by his magnetism and there was sexual tension between us that downright puzzled me.



I like crazy, but not THIS crazy

He was very domineering and bossy. It was hard for him to even utter the words “please” or “thank you” and my biggest fear meeting up with him was that he would have no qualms about murdering me. He seemed amoral and dangerous and only more so when we actually met face to face. I escaped alive and in one piece and thankfully I never heard from him again.  I am only thankful because I know I would be stupid enough to answer his call because for whatever reason he did have some sort of strange power over me. I never really wondered if red-haired guys didn’t have souls until I met him…

Gross/Crazy Guy 

His screen name had the word “Pussy” in it and when he hit me up I was really and truly hoping he was maybe a veterinarian with a strange since of humor. Furthermore, he had no pics in his profile so my psycho senses were tingling. I messaged him back and tried to make a joke about his screen name—annnnnnnnnnnnnd he totally ripped me a new one! Apparently his screen name was none of my business AND I’m a nosy busybody. This confused me on some level since I thought that once someone contacted me, their chosen screen name was at least a little my business. He kept sending some intense messages, each a few hours apart so I ended up having to block him. What THE hell?


 The Rocker

I still keep in touch with the lead singer of a heavy metal band who is on tour overseas. I actually messaged him first after he rated me highly—he’s one of the few guys I actually initiated contact with. Every time I logged onto the site I ended up spending more time responding to guys who messaged me whether I was interested in them or not. I have never met this guy in person and I have no idea if he is being truthful about his whereabouts— but he writes me beautifully descriptive emails so I really don’t care. It is nice to have a pen pal and someone who challenges me intellectually. He hints of our eventual meeting but I’m not holding my breath and honestly this whole experience has left me completely overwhelmed and exhausted. I really can’t handle much more of this. I’m all over the place with this dating stuff and vaguely aware that I’m not making much sense.


I hate that I am this way :-/

I’ve been able to learn so many things about myself, men and dating in general from this whole experience. That is exactly what I had hoped to get out of the whole experience. Lately I’ve been finding myself becoming apart of these loose uncommitted sexual relationships and I just want to start dating with more of a purpose and to learn to value myself more. I have dedicated an entirely separate post that talks more in depth about what lessons I’ve been able to extract from the decision to online date—and there are some surprising developments that have unfolded since I’ve started writing this so be sure to read part 2 of this series: As Long As My Bitches Love Me: Lessons Learned from My Month of Online Dating. I’m working on it now and it’s coming soon, I promise!


More on this online dating ridiculousness coming soon! — Your Homie












Love Is Not a Vice…

I wrote a post today that I realize, in retrospect, was going to reveal just how bitter and angry I am about love. I was having a side conversation with a friend, via text, about vices and I listed love as one of them. Below is his response and the simplicity and wisdom of it blew my mind. It reminded me of the agency and ownership I have over my life and helps me to remember to be careful of falling into the victim role I sometimes allow myself to play. In my darkest moments, I think of love as a vice and I blame it for all the things it has done to me but the real culprit is desperation and denial and false hope in thinking that love has the ability to change people.

Love can roam freely within the confines of the mind and heart but shouldn’t always be allowed to roam with abandon in action and in deed. Through this person, I’ve been exposed to the concept of taming my free spirit and learning more about self-preservation through self-possession.

….Apparently, I’ve just been schooled o_O


I Know

ImageI leave work just on time and I hit the door of the building running at almost a full sprint. It seems I am always running these days. I fly through crosswalks and bump into other metro passengers to clumsily bumble down the endless escalator stumbling onto the platform to make the next train.

I needed this. I needed this to work for me. I needed this commute to be a smooth and seamless as possible because I want to keep my job and I want my child in daycare so at the very least, from the outside looking in, it would seem as if I had my shit together. I know that I do not. I’m always running, and when not running I am trapped underwater barely able to move.

I arrive at my transfer station and I run up the escalator glancing at my phone to check the time. I am ok. If I make the next rush hour train and the bus comes exactly when it’s supposed to I will be ok. I will bust in the daycare doors like a hero and sigh in relief when she comes running to me screaming my name, and I can hug her and nod a calm greeting to her daycare providers knowing that I didn’t inconvenience them by being late—AND, that I didn’t have to pay their extortionate late fees. This would be a good day, I could feel it.

I noticed the crowd as soon as I stepped off that last metal stair. There were throngs of people, an atmosphere of overall confusion, and a static voice over the loud speaker announcing that someone had been struck by a train. We all knew what that really meant. “Struck by a train” is metro code for: someone jumped in front of the train. I knew I wouldn’t be going anywhere for a long while.

I called the daycare to notify them I might be late for pickup. I knew that I would be more than just a little tardy– this wasn’t going to be a half hour deal, I was going to be here for the long haul. I called my mom to ask her to pick the baby up instead. I could just feel that umbilical cord snap me back to where I didn’t want to be. I just want my independence and my freedom. I just want to be free of depending on anyone for anything and I don’t know why achieving this has to be so difficult!

The other passengers in their anxious need to board whichever train arrived next had abandoned the hard concrete benches and stood in a crowded bunch on the platform. I plopped myself onto one of the benches and tried not to curse under my breath when an older gentleman sat right next to me, his eyes on me and his mouth ready to start up a chat.

“It’s a shame,” he said, trying to make eye contact. “Why in the world someone would jump in front of the train, I just don’t know.” He made this declaration as if it all made sense in his head, and I just stared through him without responding. I am not that socially awkward, I know I should have made an agreeable noise, nodded my head or SOMEthing, but without really thinking about it I chose to say nothing at all. When I get wind of news of a jumper on the train sadness comes over me yes– but also the tiniest bit of envy. Maybe that person has finally found freedom from a life of torture.

I would never condone suicide on any level, but I would be a liar if I said I didn’t understand it.  I know what it is to stand on the edge of that metro train platform, swaying back and forth; you’re brain daring you to take the leap. I know what it is to see a razorblade at your wrist through a vision blurred by tears, asking yourself if this would be the day you would finally have the guts and the violence to follow through with it. A means of escape is all it really is and I’ve contemplated the option during my most cowardly moments. Why? Because who wants this? Who wants this life and who wants to be constantly fighting for peace of mind and freedom and happiness? For some it is a struggle simply to wake each morning, while others pop their eyes open simply thanking their god for another day of existence. Not everyone wants to exist; and in our search solace we plot out the worst. And you don’t have to understand us but you should at least know our story.

I should have told him the this, but I chose to remain silent.—just as silent as those of us who suffer. I had the opportunity to expose another truth to this man, other than that which fit neatly into his ideals and beliefs about what life is and what life should be. “Why in the world would someone jump in front of a train, I just don’t know!”  I should have turned my face toward him and responded loud and clear, “I know…”



The Wheels on the Bus

I am sinking again, slipping into a slow fade; and just like every other time I never saw it coming. The life of a super mom is not for me, it’s twists and turns fill me with an anxiety too mild for medication but too extreme for my mind to cope.

I have let myself go. I’m running in the street with my two year old in order to avoid the ice that covers the sidewalk. Running because I’m late and tired and catching this next bus is not an option it is mandatory. I feel like I’m in a perpetual futile battle against time that takes it’s psychological toll because I know I’m never going to win it. Sometimes I sulk in the corner and do nothing. I simply exist in a heap of blankets wasting away with time because even if chose to be productive there would not be enough for me to do everything I needed to do. So I hide and wait for time’s passage. It is a bully to me, dictating my thoughts and actions and relentlessly reminding me that I’ll always thirst for more but never be satiated. I will never have enough. I will never…not ever…

This woman in the seat next to me is practically on top of me, breathing in my air and suffocating me. I hate her and what she represents in this moment. I think I hate all of the people here on this bus with no regard for my privacy and my fragility. They look me directly in the face as I blink back tears. Even now they are looking over my shoulder as I type this and I resent their presence. Until I’ve reconciled how to be alone without being lonely I have to face them and live amongst them.

The wheels on the bus go round; I feel like I’m drowning in this sea of people….