I’m not exactly Prudence McPrude or Loosey Lucy when it comes to dating and sex. I’d like to consider myself somewhere in between- Midway Martha perhaps? My philosophy is if I’m seeing someone exclusively, there are little boundaries in the nookie department. Life’s short. I like to explore, and well, it can be a lot of fun. Fun is always good, unless it involves gag balls and sheep. There are a few other things on my “Don’t ever do again” list, but I’ll share that with you another time. Point is, I’ll most likely try anything twice, but don’t get too crazy (what? once usually is not enough to determine if it’s good or bad!). A girl’s gotta be open-minded while setting limits, you know?

Allow me to introduce you to Harvard, an Ivy-League educated Midwestern boy who’s quite, um, open-minded. He contacted me via a dating website, and we corresponded back and forth for a while and after some time of interrogation and no apparent red flags, we decided to attend a food festival together. (Tip: if meeting for the first time, I suggest you do something during the day. Night dates impose too much date-y pressure; and frankly, if that date blows, you still have the rest of the day to redeem it!) Surprisingly, our date went extremely well despite the 110 degree heat and sweaty ass/boobcracks. We laughed and flirted and dare I add, made sexual yet tasteful innuendos?! I admit I was quite liberal with the double entendres but boy, I didn’t expect him to take it as a green light to Kinkyville. Fast-forward to third date… I had recently moved to this city so haven’t had the opportunity to explore the douchey night life, so Harvard offered to be my personal tour guide. He chose to have dinner at this lovely restaurant where we dined al fresco (Yes, it was still 110+ degree weather, but we had a misty fan blowing on us. Come to think of it, I believe he just wanted to see sweat glisten down my cleavage. Smart guy- he did attend Harvard, afterall).

Two drinks in:

Harvard: You look nice tonight.
Me: Thanks. I feel overdressed, though.
Harvard: Nah, you fit right in. See? Those girls are dressed up too.
Me: I suppose. Her dress is lovely, ooh and she’s pretty too.
Harvard: Speaking of girls, ever been with one?
Me: Um, well…
Harvard: I think it’d be hot to have a threesome with you.
Me: Yeah, if only I got a dollar for every time I heard that. Didn’t you say you were looking for a long term relationship?
Harvard: Yeah, I am. I’m looking for a girlfriend.
Me: And you think proposing a threesome with me is the most prudent move to convince me you’re serious about a relationship?
Harvard: I’m just saying. It’d be hot.
Me: *downs cocktail* You ready to go to the next venue?

At Bar on patio:

Harvard: Want to see some pictures?
Me: Of?
Harvard: An orgy I was in a few months back.
Me: *4th drink in* Sure.
Harvard: See that? That’s me and her husband.
Me: *blink blink* Are you guys… DPing her?! Buddy, you don’t mind crossing swords?
Harvard: I was wearing a condom, so it’s OK.
Me: Um, if you say so. *after going through April ’11 Orgy Album*
Harvard: Let’s go inside the bar and check it out.

Harvard proceeded to chat up these two girls: a cute skinny blonde and her voluptuous brunette friend. After a few minutes, we find out they’re celebrating Blondie’s birthday. I’m sure Harvard was thinking, “Score!” He was taking a liking to Blondie, so I ended up chatting with the Brunette. I was nodding and acted interested in her talking about being a teacher for inner city kids. Commendable, I said. A few more minutes passed and with feet hurting from high heels, I excused myself. By this time, I was pretty tipsy and was downing my 5th (or was it my 6th cocktail?). I found a nearby comfy bench in which to sit and allowed the show to unveil before me. Yes, my date was hitting on other girls on our date. Presumptuous of him to think if this shenanigan works out with those girl that I’d be down for whatever happens after, don’t you agree? Strangely, I did not find this odd or offensive. I was quite amused, in fact.  Maybe it was the alcohol? Then again, he did just show me pictures of his penis in every sexual position and orifice imaginable. I suppose I’ve already been conditioned.

Harvard finally comes by me and told us to go home.

Harvard: Fuck, as soon as I saw that cross tattooed on her ring finger, I knew she was a virgin.
Me: Ahh, sucks for you. Haha
Harvard: Her friend was DTF, though!
Me: Homegirl was not going to leave her virginal friend to go home with us.
Harvard: Yes she was! And you just bailed on me!
Me: Well, sorry for not being a team player.

The night ended with no third party or any form of a party for that matter. This date was definitely a first for me, and I found it quite entertaining. I guess I appreciate novelty? But hey, guys? One sure way to call bullshit on your “I’m looking for a girlfriend” is to suggest a threesome. You wait for at least the 6th date, sheesh!

Third base only!


I seriously can’t stress enough how imperative correct spelling and grammar are. Some people say I’m a grammar Nazi or that it isn’t indicative of someone’s intellect. Yeah well, I say, “Yes I am the grammar police, and yes it’s a good litmus test.” Case in point…

Bobby Flay: dam baby i like u down to earth buetifall im gona go to school at cordon blue to be a cheif so i can take cre of u when it comes to eatin good food i work and love to look good pretty decent when it comes to stringing words together that are funny and so vary interested in getting to know u bow chica wow wow lol so yeah lets get to know each other lets do this lol hope to hear back from u heres my email…

Maybe this wannabe Bobby Flay should go back to grammar school before wielding a knife and playing with fire. I worry he may think methanol is the same as ethanol. How different can they be right? It’s only a one letter difference between the two! Will he be able to operate a mandolin slicer without shedding blood? Btw, did he actually say he’s decent at stringing words together? Maybe he should practice stringing letters together to make a real word first?

1. damn, not dam- something tells me he wasn’t referring to a barrier that prevents water flow. damming of word flow, on the other hand…
2. beautiful, not buetifall- kudos for trying. I picture him slowly sounding out the letters while he’s typing, as if he is a mutated progeny of the characters from Deliverance.
3. cordon bleu, not cordon blue- he should have at least known how to spell the name of the school in which he wants to attend. blue is a pretty color, though.
4. chef, not cheif- rule of thumb: i before e, except after c. either way, he was wrong.
5. care, not cre- lucky for him, I can read minds and knew what he was trying to say.
6. very, not vary- as in “Your varying spelling sucks very badly.”

I imagine his cakes would read like the following:

My last date would think this an invitation in cake form.


Catholics love to conform!

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Growing up in the good ol’ US of A, we view standards of beauty as something almost unattainable by the masses. They’re pretty damn unrealistic if you ask me. As a result, it’s difficult to find a woman who has a true healthy self image, and that’s just really sad. For those who are confident, well they’re deemed as full of themselves… well at least full of boobs…

Me: Friend wants to throw a pool party Sunday and asked if I’d mind. I told her as long as no one minds my big tits in a bikini. She then said I have a big ego.
Sis: You do have a healthy-sized ego.
Me: I do not have a healthy ego. I just said I have big tits. Now if I said I have EPIC perfect tits…
Sis: I have a healthy ego too.
Me: Oh yeah? Is that where you store your ego? in your DD tits?
Sis: BIG ego to match the BIG tits.


In my defense, it’s not that I don’t like children. I’m just not ready to be anyone’s momma. I haven’t lived my life yet! I’ve spent most of my life as a student, so I’m going to enjoy my newfound freedom. I definitely don’t want to have to deal with baby mama drama either, so sorry if I’m averse to dating men with children. Hey, at least I let guys know that from the beginning, right? Call me selfish, but I’m going to do me for now. It’s better to be selfish while you’re single than to be selfish with a family!

#1 Dad: I just put my son on craigslist… wanna talk after the sale?

Ok, this guy gets a single clap from me to acknowledge his humor. I stated that I like children just fine on my profile- so long as they’re not mine or belong to the guy I’m dating. And preferably at least 25ft away. Not making a sound. Sleeping is good. Yeah. Shhh…there there, quiet…

Genius. Now, for someone to invent the electric highchair…

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CheesyI understand it can be tough for guys when it comes to dating because they’re usually the ones to make the first move. With that first move, they have to make an impression that will not only get our attention but also will make us want to respond positively. Needless to say, a lot… A LOT… of men do it incorrectly. They’re either rude and condescending, incoherent and creepy, trying way too hard with a 2 page manifesto, or just plain cheesy.

Kraft Boy: Hershey makes about a million kisses a day but I just want one from you. Pretty cheesy I know. Lol. I figured it is better than some of the e-mails you get. What is the worst line someone has sent you on here?

Well Kraft Boy, you’re one of the worst but at least you knew it was cheesy to begin with. Something tells me there are guys out there who truly do think that’s a good opening line.


What is this misconception that only men want emotionless sex? Women are capable too, you know. I think most women aren’t just as flagrant about it. There are times when a girl just needs a good lay without all the strings and doubt and insecurity and unanswered texts and bullshit. Geez, all I’m asking for is a good orgasm. Love, I’ll check back with you later.

Neighbor: What did you do yesterday?
Me: Went out on a date.
Neighbor: *snickers* You know what I find most attractive in a girl? When’s she’s independent, doing her thing. It’ll come when she’s not looking for it.
Me: Who says I’m looking? I’m going out to have fun.
Neighbor: Isn’t that the point? Go on dates to look for love?
Me: Dude, I’m just looking for ass. Immediate gratification.
Neighbor: *silence*

Yup, some women don’t always have love on their minds. We can be as simple as a man. You know what’s great about just wanting to hook up, though? We can choose the hottest and most hung guy and not give two shits about what his political views are or how much he’s invested into his 401K. We don’t have to make concessions or attempt to rationalize, “yeah his face may be ugly but he’s soooo good with kids”. It’s just pure, unadulterated lust… and it can be fucking aaaawwwweeesooommmeee!


After several years of being single and dating a plethora of “men” (using this term loosely because many were more like boys, but I wanted to clarify as to not sound like a pedophile), I oftentimes find myself tired of putting forth any effort. You see, when I agree to commence communication or go on a date, I normally think this has potential to be something serious. With that thought in mind, I put effort into asking questions that matter, answering with eloquence, etc. etc. etc. However, after so many that don’t pan out, one starts to think it’s all futile- a “fuck it” mentality if you will.

Me: I’m to a point where I just want to know his first name and current health status and blood work. Cut through the b.s. from the get-go
Sis: That’s a great start. I mean, that’s pretty much all I want to know at first. Most of the time, it’s stopped right after sex, so elaboration is unnecessary and you don’t have all this useless information in your brain… leave space for those worthy of that space.
Sis: Filling the space between your legs is very temporary… the space in your brain, sometimes is filled forever… we don’t want that.
Me: Um, wow.
Sis: But really, filling your brain w/ useless info about a hookup is almost as bad as catching an STD… live with it a loooooooong time. I hate sometimes info about a past hookup pops back in my head and I’m like… ick. Can’t get rid of it with anything… not even alcohol. There’s no cleanse for that…

Word from the wise ol’ sister. Yup, some people’s conversations are as bad as catching an STD. Abstinence from getting too much information is a method to prevent contraction of scary post-hookup memory. She may be on to something here… Now if only I can develop a condom for the mind.

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When I receive emails like these, it makes me want to cancel my account and throw my laptop at the first random male I see.

Jean Cocteau (artist/poet): The desire to know more about you is almost unbearable. I’m stammering around the keyboard typing, deleting, and retyping in an almost school-boy giddiness. Asking me why, curious I am, myself, can not explain it. I feel sheepish… I moved here from CO and am poetically revolted against, the spit fire that lives by the code of night, swaying the crowd like a conductor to an orchestra with smooth words and a look…and now here I am, lying still, but with an inward beast of electricity nipping at the tips of my fingers, restless, wanting adventure. I prefer the mystery and pondering of all the possibilities. Am fairly random and spontaneous and seeking the companionship of other friends, lovers, muses road trip partners or someone to explore a new restaurant bar,..  Care to tell me what are the little things in life that you enjoy? Tell me your favorite color, smell and time of the day? I have tons of Qs to ask you but I shall wait until I hear from you  Have a splendid day

Because two crazies in a relationship is just one too many! I’ll pass, thanks. There’s something extra creepy about a semi-coherent email plus ugly self drawing where the guy looks like a Stephen King character. *skin crawling* Seriously, that is his profile photo. I can’t imagine any girl besides a horror-film fan would be intrigued. Being artsy-fartsy and enigmatic may work with some girls, but I ain’t got time for dat! I have too much to figure out as it is and don’t want to be sifting through riddles and trying to find the words to describe what I’m smelling at the moment.


When I say I appreciate honesty, I really mean it. I don’t cherry-pick what I want to hear as truth and shun the rest. That means I usually have to wear my big girl panties because damn, some things are difficult to swallow.

I admit; I have weird looking toes. Seriously, it’s pretty gnarly. My third toe is shorter than the 4th one, and every day, the bunions grow larger. Sad. I know my feet are ugly, but dang, for a dude to point it out? Brutal!

Date #162: Your toes aren’t the right length. If they were teeth, they’d need braces.

This is precisely the reason why I should always wear low-cut, extra tight shirts with a push-up bra. Minimize the deformed body parts, and maximize the goodies!


Show me one person who has never read an online personal ad or dating profile, and I show you someone who has never smelled the wrath of his own fart. Yeah, it’s not happening. If you’re like me, I read these posts for shits and giggles but sometimes, I softly weep in the dark corner of my bedroom as I clutch my dog’s cremated remains and lightly rock back and forth. I won’t openly admit it, but I read them with the fragile hope that my Prince Charming will unfold before my eyes as he stealthily reels me into his cyber embrace with succinct yet effective poetic words. Until then, I’ll continue reading this crap and laugh and cry at the same time. If you’re a novice at this online dating thing, take heed and be wary of posts too good to be true. If you’re an old vulture to the scene, you’re going to say, “Yup/True dat/Uh-huh/Furrealz” a lot; yes, somehow the hood in you will be revealed. We’re all a little hoodtastic deep down.

1. I’ve never done this online dating before. = I’ve done this online dating before. OK, the majority of those who try online dating have found the more conventional ways of meeting dates aren’t exactly working so are trying a different approach. No shame in that. Honestly. I get it. You find it difficult to meet new people since graduating college and working at a corporate job, and Beth in Accounting is 16 yrs over your age limit. Your friends are all home working on their first marriage. You’re beginning to recycle girls you meet at the bar and keep getting the same STDs such that the regular antibiotics are no longer effective. Seriously, I got it. It probably occurred to you one day that online dating is your untapped resource for new potentials- and you don’t even have to get dressed and leave the house to check out these girls! Bonus! So um, why lie about it? What? You’re too proud, too ashamed, too afraid that we’ll think you’re desperate? You think people will consider you so socially inept where you can’t find real world people to date, therefore, you have to resort to the internet to snag an unsuspecting girl? Nah, these notions are antiquated even if they are somewhat true! It’s hip to do online dating now, so quit lying; no one truly likes virgins. They’re boring.

2. I’m a laid-back guy. = I don’t really care about much, unless it’s something I care about. First rule: anyone who makes a demonstrative statement about a desirable quality is usually lying. No one who’s *insert positive attribute here* tend to go announcing it. Got it? So, whenever I read this line, I think I just freaking wasted 1.3 seconds reading a lie. Oh yeah, buddy? You’re super chill and easy-going? Cool, cool. Nothing gets you going? You don’t care what we do, where we go, what we eat? Mister, this is not laid-back; this is apathy. The only reason he didn’t say he’s apathetic is because he doesn’t know what apathy means. Trust me. Dudes are “laid-back” if you you don’t account for stipulations. For example, he doesn’t care where you go out and what you do so long as a) he doesn’t have to wear dress shoes because “dressing up to go out is for douchebags” b) the venue has a tv screen where he can catch the game so he can drown out you yammering about a girlfriend’s new beau and how he’s not good for her because he once went out with a stripper and he’s still living with his parents and how he only text her 5 times this one day c) it doesn’t interfere with his other more fun plans. Otherwise, I bet your pimply ass that he won’t be laid back if you suggest going to the ballet during a championship game. I bet your big balls he”ll pucker and clench his ass cheeks at your mentioning that you two need to discuss your emotions and where he sees this relationship heading. I also bet your sweet tits that he’s only laid-back if whatever it is you want doesn’t bother him. Otherwise, he won’t be “laid-back”.

3. I’m an open-minded individual. = I’m open to kinky sex. It also means that you should be open to threesomes, anal sex, role-playing, him experimenting with other men and maybe small rodents. Oh, it could also mean that he’s accepting of Mormon Republicans because it’s a known fact that they are the most kinky ass sexual deviants- HOT! Look, all he is trying to say is he’s just an accepting, non-judgmental fellow! Stipulation: as long as you are accepting and non-judgmental towards him, so don’t get all weirded out when he asks you to fuck him with a glittery purple strap-on or when he invites his female “friend” into the bedroom. Heads up, bitches.

4. I’m a total smart-ass. = I’m a total asshole. He wants you to think he’s smart, witty, and with a biting edge. I admit, few can pull it off with some panache (e.g. Jon Stewart- hubba hubba!), but the majority are just boorish fucktards (e.g. The Situation from Jersey Shore- *vomits*) who think their immature quips are quirky and sardonic. These self-proclaimed smartasses tend to belittle others in an attempt to hide the fact they are insecure in their own intellect and self-worth, and therefore, put down others in order to make themselves feel better. They’ll even put you down and point out your flaws while trying to woo you. If reprimanded, he’ll play it off as if he’s just joking and it’s just him being sarcastic. If no one’s really laughing (I emphasize real because uncomfortable grunts should not be misconstrued as true laughter), take a hint, dude. No, sir, you are not a smartass; you’re just an asshole.

5. I’m an average guy = Being anything more than mediocre is just too much work for me. When did mediocrity become acceptable? Oh yes, when we were in grade school and the slow kids were rewarded for “Most Improved” in classes like Advanced Cursive Handwriting or Double Digit Arithmetic. Somewhere along the way, we Americans took pride in being “average” because if we set the bar very low, Little Johnny can feel good about himself when he is rewarded for achieving something slightly better than shit low standards. Everyone loves accolades in the form of gold stars and scratch-n-sniff stickers. As a result, they grow up to be Average Joes, proudly boasting on their dating profiles that they are just good ol’, everyday, down to earth gents in hopes that they can attract someone with similarly base expectations. Why? It’s easy, and God forbid they exert any extra effort because it requires um, effort. It’s also to cover their asses against any future nagging that remotely sounds as if you’re pushing them to be something better. It’s quite smart of them, actually. They put it out right from the beginning that they’re average, so you best not try to change them because they will tell your overachieving ass to back off.

Yup, so when you read “average”, it basically means you’re looking at a guy who’s well, AVERAGE:
– working with a 5.5″ penis (My vagina is no bat cave, but um really? Let’s hope he has magical tongue and fingers. Ooh I’ve heard of penis extending prostheses…)
– earning $32K/yr at a blue-collar 9-5 job (it’ll only take 3 years to save for that 4-Day Disney World vacation you both are dreaming!)
-completed only some college (where else would he have learned the indispensable skill of shotgunning beers?)
-rocking an IQ of 100 (that’s a whopping 15 points from being classified as having “borderline intellectual functioning”- whew, safe!)
-stands 5’10 and weighs in at 190lbs (it’s only 30lbs over the recommended healthy weight).

Stay tuned for more… (many, many more)…


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