I Die

"C", a straight woman who I met tonight at a party filled with gay dudes, has been on 50+ dates since her last relationship and could not have summed it up better:

"Do you know who I'm fucking right now?!?!?  I'm fucking a 24 year old WHO I DID MOLLY WITH 2 months ago. And I'm 32."

We've all been there, C.

Regrets from 2014

I, R________, regret that I didn't make my annual trip to New York this year, because every time I go I meet a man off the internet and get laid.

I regret that I had no romantic chemistry with the Jewish, outdoorsy, public high school biology teacher I met online, because he was awesome and a total catch.

I regret that I got drunk and had sex with a man in May who I wasn't attracted to, and I furthermore regret that to get through that experience I had to close my eyes and imagine I was fucking someone else.

I regret that, with all our modern day medical advances, there is still no vaccine for herpes. 

Also, HIV.  I regret HIV and that there is no vaccine for it.

I regret that I have a biologic clock because if I didn't, I would be perfectly content messing around for another ten years and having children in my forties.

I regret beards and flannel. Still. Every. Single. Fucking. Day. 

I regret the already-occurred or impending closures of The Hurricane, the Erotic Bakery, B&O Espresso, Piecoras, The Harvard Exit, Chop Suey, Red Light Vintage, The Bagel Deli, and every other Seattle institution that stood for decades and then, in the span of a couple years, was wiped out by rising rent costs and the rapidly changing urban elite demographic which has completely altered the character of this city.  I would so much rather eat a B&O rumball than go on a date with any of the men who are going to live in the condos that replaced that café.

I regret the horrible, horrible hour of my life spent with a man featured in Seattle Magazine's "Most Fascinating Singles" article.  He was Not. Fascinating.

I regret that many of my dates seem borderline autistic.

I regret, big time, that I freaked out on Crazy Chinatown Man who tried to be sweet and walk me to my car after having sex.  That exposed a vulnerability that I didn't know I had, and I need to do some soul-searching about why I feel more comfortable when I leave a man's home on my own than when a man shows genuine care for me and wants to be nice.  Therapy for 2015!!!

Still Here

It has been over a month since I last went on a date.  I'm sticking to my resolution to only sleep with men I like, and as a direct consequence of that, I'm only going on dates with men I like which means, if you follow logically, that I have not encountered any men I like in the last thirty days.  Cool.

Because you never know when an attraction might form, I set my OkCupid filters to be quite broad, searching all men looking for women living within 25 miles of Seattle between the ages of 28 to 46.  I scrolled down my matches, clicking on the isolated pictures that piqued my interest in any way whatsoever.  A few men seemed awesome but then their profiles had dealbreaker words like "non-monogamous" and "doesn't have kids and doesn't want any."  I kept on scrolling.  Over an hour passed as I looked for a person who drew me in, then I hit an OkCupid dead-end:

That's everyone we could find
If you set a lot of filters, you might not get any results
Try broadening your search settings

I couldn't believe it.  I had glanced over the pictures of every single man in the Greater Seattle area within an eighteen year age range, and I hadn't wanted to contact any of them.  That's really, really bad.

Engineer with the Houseboat, who I dated briefly in the early summer, tells me to be more hopeful.  We got over the whole "You should have broken up with me in a text message!" argument and became friends.  He, being a normal, fun man who can carry a conversation, is currently dating multiple women and feels stretched thin with his romantic prospects.  I, on the other hand, have never dated two people at the same time- not because I'm opposed to it, but because it takes a Herculean effort for me to find any sort of connection with one man, much less two.

But hopeful I try to be.  I'm just also being pickier.

Unresolved Aggression Issues

It's 4 am, and I just woke up from a nightmare during which I was eating dinner with a slightly bald, slightly chubby, (incidentally clean-shaven) White man who relocated from the Midwest to Seattle for a tech job and told me that men like him are the future of Seattle, and I was never going to find a boyfriend because I've been on 72 first dates and that's hopeless.

I threw a glass of seltzer water in his face.

Not Going Out With This One

Well shucks, Craiglist Missed Connections didn't work this time around.  Lesson learned:  Buy the man a cookie and write your phone number on the napkin.

Back to OKC:

"Chutzpah. That's the word that came to mind when I first read your profile. It wasn't just the way you express yourself, it was also that lovely twinkle in your eyes. A look that could inspire a man to write volumes. Or wax poetic. Or both.

Sass and curly hair. Who could resist that? So, what do you find yourself reading these days? Do you like to cook?

Also, yes, I'm HWP. Tall, dark, handsome -- some may even say I'm dashing, but I'll leave that for you to decide. You may ask why I don't have a picture. Well, it's because we've just opened up our relationship after a long and deliberate process. It's been great fun, honestly, and I'm now seeking a like-minded muse. Curious?"

Yes, PLEASE sign me up to be your lower-ranked lover and polyamorous sidekick- without showing me a photo of yourself.  Nailed it!