How big are your titties?

This new year, I decided to venture back online and try to find that someone special. I have been on my own for a while working on myself blah, blah, blah and admittedly feeling like I could benefit from some male companionship. As I mentioned earlier, my sister went on 32 dates before she found her husband, so I figured I would try again. I reset the counter and began. 

I don’t write much in my profile because in the swiping game, it’s mostly about visual appeal. I don’t include much beyond my height but because I seem to be freakishly tall for a girl, it is an important detail. Some women won’t date a man under six feet because of their personal preference. In my case, it’s more so a comfort thing as much for him as it is for me. Not many men like to date women who are taller than them and I am not sure how comfortable I would be dating someone who was more than an inch shorter than I am. Based on some of the men who swipe right on me, they have not even read the two sentences I include nor have they looked at the height section of the profile. 

To men who are 5’9, I have said, I’m a little taller than you is that an issue?

For most of them, the answer is yes. Then I wish them good luck on their search hopefully prompting them to pay more attention to detail the next time. 

In two weeks, I have gone on one date (more about that later), but here is a sampling of the men I have chatted with this week. 

Motherly Love

Him: Are you familiar with female-lead relationships? (He clearly likes to be dominated)

Me: Yes. Is that what you’re into? (This is not my deal, but to be polite, I continue to chat)

HIm: My mother-in-law turned me on to the lifestyle. (Ok. I threw up a little in my mouth, but I have to know)

Me: That must have been quite the conversation. Is this part of the reason your ex is now your ex?

Him: It was intense. 

Me: How intense did it get? Was it physical?

Him: For 15 years it was. (OMFG)

Me: Behind your wife’s back? (vomiting)

HIm: Yes. 

Me: That is seriously messed up. 

I blocked him after that. 

Of all the women on this planet that I’d have to worry about trying to sleep with my partner/husband, I would think that my mother would at least have my back. 

That being said, who reveals this bombshell within the first 10 messages? 


I started to chat with a man who said he was a writer. He included his website on his profile and I really should have checked it out. It would have saved me some time. After a few hours of messaging back and forth, it was getting late. 

Me: It’s getting late and I have to be up early for work tomorrow. Are you working tomorrow?

Him: You are going to love the murder-mystery novel I’m working on. 

Me: Ok. So you don’t work 9-5? (Getting worried now)

Him: I write from 9-5. 

Who wouldn’t love to write from 9-5? At this point in my writing journey, I can only write when I have time. I wish there was more, but there isn’t. 

Me: Does that sustain you?

Him: I like to help people. (What does this have anything to do with my question?)

Me: That’s a natural reaction for most human beings. Do you work?

Him: I used to work at …. doing …

Me: Do you pay rent? (Say you pay rent. Say you pay rent.)

HIm: I’m at my brother’s right now. HIs wife left him. I don’t know where he’d be if I wasn’t here to help. 

Me: That’s very nice of you. Do you help pay rent?

Him: My brother says I should use my money for food. 

Me: You should really open with that. I wish you good luck in your search. 

Him: I grew up wanting to be Superman so I could help people in need. 

I blocked him after that. I admit I checked out his website afterwards. He was honest when he said he had over 200 blog posts. What I didn’t know was that they were about far-off topics. He even recorded some self-help videos. I won’t comment beyond that because I can’t knock a person for trying to make a living. But clearly, not for me. 

How big are your titties?

It amazes me the questions that some men will ask a woman. Are there women out there that entertain them therefore they feel it is acceptable to ask? I was chatting with another seemingly normal fellow. He had just finished work and we were delving deeper into our lives. We began discussing our children’s ages and things we enjoy doing in our spare time. Then, the conversation veered into more intimate territory. 

Him: Are you a good kisser? (What is the point of this question? Is anyone really going to say no?)

Me: Yes. (No follow-up. No invitation to continue.)

Him: Do you use your tongue and soft lips when you kiss? (What the fuck? No, I use my elbows and my chin.)

Me: Of course. Doesn’t everyone? I don’t usually talk about it though. 

Him: I like that. 

Me: …

Him: How big are your titties?

Me: That’s not a very polite question to ask. 

And I blocked him. 

I’m a gay porn star

Me: What are you up to?

Him: Just finished work. 

Me: What do you do?

HIm: Gay porn. 

I don’t have a problem with gay porn. But this guy looked nothing like a gay porn star. The fact that a grown man would think that a woman in 2020 would find this shocking says a lot about him. 

Me: Fun. 

Him: It’s hard. 

My witty self who is fully aware that this guy is full of shit say:

Me: Isn’t it supposed to be?

Me, referring to the job and the penis.  I don’t think I need to clarify that pun, especially to a gay porn star. His response?

Him: What do you mean?


Me: Limp isn’t good in your line of work is it?

Him: No. LOL

Then he sent me a gif of three guys (all in shorts) getting simultaneous erections. 

Me: Nice. 

I wasn’t sure if I was talking to Beevus or Butthead. 

HIm: For you? Three at a time. Haven’t you done that?

I have no idea what the stats are for foursomes, but I’ll bet the numbers are low in comparison to twosomes and even threesomes. 

Me: I can’t say that I have.

And I will bet dollars to donuts (this expression seems appropriate in this instance) that he hadn’t either. 

Him: Why not?

I am not entertaining this idiot any longer. 

Me: This has been fun. 

And I blocked him. 

The Fisherman

I did go on one date. The red flags were there, he wasn’t working because he got a package from his job, but he has been taking care of his ailing mother so I gave him a pass. 

We had a lovely dinner and went back to his place to watch a movie. He picked it, with little consultation from me. We cuddled a bit, but nothing beyond PG. 

I liked him enough to go on a second date. He came to my neck of the woods this time. He was tired and didn’t feel like going out so we ordered in. He made himself comfortable on my couch, chose Top Gear (the British version) to watch and took control of the remote for the rest of the night. (?)

There was some PG-13 action this time but he doesn’t like to kiss, so that really limits the getting excited factor. The next day, I didn’t reach out because I wasn’t really feeling it. Before bed, he reached out to ask why I hadn’t heard from him. 

I told him the vibe felt off. He asked if we had anything in common besides the physical. Did I sleep with him without noticing? I didn’t even really think we had the physical in common but I told him that getting to know each other was part of dating and yes, we do disagree on some issues, but nothing I couldn’t live with. 

He is on a fishing trip this weekend. I don’t think I’ll hear from him when he gets back. I am not a fan of Ariana Grande, but her song Thank you, next applies here. 

Online dating is not for the faint of heart. You have to kiss a lot of frogs but sometimes even getting to a worthy frog is an issue. Conversations begin and end abruptly on both sides. Is it kinder to let someone know you’re not interested or just ghost them in the hopes that they get the message?

I haven’t gone on anywhere close to 32 dates. I don’t have the time and I realize I don’t have the patience. But I am learning lessons I probably should have learned in my 20s when I was already married with a baby and we all know how that turned out. 




Tonsillectomy Woes

I’m literally rotting from the inside out. My post-surgery breath is so bad my kids won’t sit on the same couch as me. I have lost 13 pounds in 5 days and I can hardly eat or drink anything. The thought of swallowing is terrifying to the point where I have to psych myself up to swallow pain pills.

It has been 6 days since I had my tonsils removed and I was warned that it would be bad. I was told that it would be painful and that I would be out of commission for 7 days MINIMUM and that I would heal almost completely in 14 days. I have given birth without an epidural and watched on a screen as the surgeon closed a hole in my heart. I thought I would defy the odds and be up and about sooner rather than later.

How fucking stupid was I?

I’m about to begin my 7th day without my tonsils and I am just beginning to feel like a normal human being.

The magical combination seems to be Advil and Tylenol together. I have no idea why it is kept a secret, but apparently this mixture is one that has been recommended to several of my friends. I had been working with extra strength Tylenol.

Did the surgeon give me something else? Of course. But liquid morphine was no match for the pain. I tried 5ml, then 7 until I reached the maximum recommended dose of 10 ml. And? Nothing. Still excruciating pain. So I stopped taking it. Why deal with opioids if I didn’t have to? I don’t even take medication when I have a headache.

I was warned not to look at my throat. I didn’t look at myself after I gave birth. Why the fuck would I torture myself? So I am not looking at the mess that is probably where my tonsils used to be.

I had to go to the emergency room last night because I started to bleed. Apparently, this is perfectly normal and it’s just the scabs falling off.

And I was dehydrated, of course. So the doctor treated my pain and gave me some fluids and sent me on my way.

I am hopeful that when I wake up tomorrow I will be on the other side of it.

A tonsillectomy as an adult isn’t ice cream and popsicles. I was in so much pain I couldn’t even dream about attempting to try them. I have boxes of untouched ice pops in the freezer and packages of jello cups in the fridge.

If I had to do it all over again, I think I’d choose to keep my tonsils.

What in the actual ‘F”?

I ended a whirlwind of a relationship last Friday. Was it really a relationship? Earlier in the week we were meeting each other’s children and going to church together. A few days later, it was over, just as quickly as it had begun.

No real reason that made any sense. Something about him being confused, an online profile ‘accidentally’ reactived. It seems like it all added up to him choosing someone else, or at least trying to decide which one he liked better. So, I made the decision easy for him. My reply, was ‘No worries. Good luck. Goodbye’. Then I proceeded to block him from every form of communication possible.

Not being with him anymore, is not the takeaway from this experience. We had been on only a few dates, but the disappointment is real. He sold me the dream of a future together and I fell for it hook, line and sinker, as the saying goes.

So I learned my lesson. He taught me not to rush (a lesson I had clearly forgotten when I got caught up in the excitement of it all).

Because my dating history hasn’t been fantastic, my family loves to judge my choices. They think it helps, but it really fucking doesn’t. No one judges me more harshly than I judge myself so sometimes, a little support, instead of an ‘I told you so’ would be much appreciated.

It would also be nice if there was a clear formula for relationships and dating:

Date 1: Meet, decide if you like each other enough to see each other again

Date 2: Have a good time, keep liking each other, decide to see each other again (or not)

Date 3: Have sex (or not)

Some may find this decision controversial, but in order for someone to reach date 3 with me, I must have considered this possibility. Additionally, I’d like to see what I’m working with. Even if it isn’t mindblowing (it wasn’t) the first time, I can get a sense of whether or not I would like to try it again.

Date 4: Make or break. This is the date that helps me decide if this is someone I would like to continue seeing. If so, perhaps trying the sleeping together thing again.

After four dates, there should be a clear leaning in one direction or another.

On date four with this guy, I feel like something was off. I made him dinner, he drank the wine I bought for him, we went shopping for a bicycle so we could ride together. The next morning, his dating profile was active.

So, I began my 60 day detox. No men for 60 days. I tried to give up carbs at the same time, but carbs love me without asking for anything in return.

For three days, I have been conscious of my eating habits, I have made healthier choices and I have slept well.

His absence didn’t make me cry. I haven’t given a man that type of power over me in years. Nothing should really surprise me about dating anymore. I have weird and sad stories, but never horror stories, but this one baffled me.

My sister loves to point out the red flags that I have should have felt and seen flapping all around me, but I never expected anyone who thought I was special enough to introduce to his children and went to church, would ever turn out to be just another guy.

I will never be able to tell him so because what good would it do? He didn’t care enough to be honest, so he didn’t care about hurting me. Anything I say/said would/ would have come across as bitchy or stalker-like. I don’t want to be a bitch because I don’t want him to paint a distorted picture of me. I also blocked him from being able to commuincate with me. The message to him should be clear. He is also not worth stalking.

When I wrote this, I was on day three with 57 more to go.

I may be alone, but I returned the bike, I threw away the glass he drank from and turned the roses he gave me into compost. The man is washed right out of not only my hair, but of my life.

I’m now on day 10.

Rude much?

I have not posted for quite a while. I did not die, dear readers, I had a fantastic time in the Dominican. I learned that I can travel with my sister from another mister in every way. We napped together, ate together, swam together, got drunk together, stumbled back to our room together and gave each other space. I admittedly need more together time than she does, but we made it work.

On our trip home, we sat behind the rudest woman. I’m supposed to finish that sentence with ‘that I ever met’, but I never had the displeasure of actually meeting her. I watched the back of her head shake in disapproval and I heard her complaining, but I didn’t actually see her face until she got up to go to the bathroom.

On our four hour flight, we were provided with complimentary non-alcoholic beverages. Food and alcohol were available for purchase. It was a smallish place with maybe 100 passengers, so the small beverage cart would reach us eventually. We were seated in row 13, so we really didn’t have to wait very long.

A stewardess approaches:

Stewardess: Can I get you anything to drink?

Shrew in Row 12: I asked him for something and he disappeared.

Stewardess: I apologize. Can I get you anything else while I go check on that for you?

Shrew in Row 12: I don’t know where he possibly could have gone. (Shaking her head like she is trying to get it to swivel off)

Stewardess: (keeping her smile on) I will go check.

Shrew: You do that.

Stewardess: He is getting your wine, ma’am. Anything else I can get for you?

Shrew: huffs

She actually said NOTHING in response to the request. She continued to shake her head for some unknown reason.

When the wine arrived, she took it from him without a thank you.


Today on my subway ride to the train station, there was a couple having an extremely loud argument. Something about him working too much and leaving her to take care of several responsibilities. Lots of ‘fuck yous’ and ‘shit’ thrown around. At one point the man got up an tried to give them both some space. The woman kept yelling at him from across the aisle. I wondered whether it was street theatre or I was in an episode of ‘What would you do?’. I didn’t do anything except hope that the fight would not escalate.

Yelling at the top of their lungs and forcing the entire subway car to witness their unravelling? Rude.

As I type this entry, there is a woman beside me coughing into the air and sniffling. 🤢

No consideration for others. Rude.

Fear? Let’s not.

I am conquering several of my fears in the next few hours.

I will be flying to a tropical destination with one of my best friends and we are both travelling without children. This is the longest either one of us will be away from them and that is terrifying.

It is a goal for both of us. We have both been guilty of planning to do things that never seem to pan out. We made a conscious decision to change that. So Dominican Republic here we come!

Earlier this year, I travelled to Arizona. I was there for four days and my anxiety was under control. I have been psyching myself up for this trip. I have not been on a true vacation for over ten years. It’s time.

I want this to be one of the best trips of both our lives.

We can do this!

I’m in the Uber and I’m more excited than afraid. I think that’s a very good sign. ❤️

32 dates?

Despite my dating history, I have not given up on the possibility that there may be someone special out there for me after all.

Everyone seems to have an opinion. My mother doesn’t want me to date anymore. Like somehow at the age of 43, my romantic life shouldn’t be a priority. My two younger brothers think their gender is a disappointment and have no faith that there are any good men left out there, especially none for me.

If I could have conducted some kind of ‘Weird Science’ experiment and created the ideal man for my sister, it would be her finacé. He couldn’t be a more perfect fit and after her own divorce, she certainly traded way up. They met online, so of course, my fingers are crossed that the process could work for me too. According to her, she went on 32 dates before she found him. I don’t think I had been on 32 dates in my life. If I took the time to count them, maybe I’d come close, but I decided to wipe the slate clean and restart the count just to be sure.

I have dated in every decade. I met my first husband in my late teens and we married in my mid 20s. I was a mother barely two years into my marriage, and a divorcée shortly afterwards.

I didn’t date very much in my 20s, because I met my youngest daughter’s father three years after I left my husband. I felt fortunate to have moved on from my first mistake. It took me eight years to figure out he wasn’t the one.

I split my 30s and the beginning of my 40s torn between a man who couldn’t live without me and a man who couldn’t figure out a way to keep me.

So here I am. Dating in my early 40s. You would think that being more mature and having lived a little more life, the prospects would be more promising.

I have been online since May. I have spaced out the dates. I have met 5 men in person. I have chatted with several others and now that the initial excitement has worn off, I have settled down to the point where I am no longer take things too personally.

Promising conversations have died without warning or explanation and I am told that this is the new norm and to not take it personally. I am nothing if not adaptable. So my ego is bruised when it happens to me, but I have also not responded to messages or blocked a stranger myself. So, tit for tat, I guess.

Dating does force one to grow a thicker skin.

27 dates to go.

I once was a total badass…

I’m baaaaaaaaaaaack.

I lost myself again for a while and lost sight of why I began writing again and why I took my life back, but as of 8:32 am this morning, I vowed to get back on track.

I once was a total badass. Not that all my badassiness (I’m making it a fucking thing) has completely disappeared, but I let myself forget that I am a good person and that I am good enough.

I started reading You are a Badass, by Jen Sincero and I am going to stop doubting my greatness and remember that I already have a pretty awesome life.

“Deciding means jumping in all the way, doing whatever it takes, and going after your dreams with the tenacity of a dateless cheerleader, a week before prom night”. This quote appears in Sincero’s introduction. It made me want to start training for a marathon, call 1-800-GOT JUNK to help get rid of the clutter in my house and start a new business.

This happened to me once before. I was inspired by The Happiness Project late last year. I was inspired to start my blog, to do 10 minutes of tidying per day and to read more.

A few months back, I decided to venture into the world of online dating. It is not for the faint of heart or those with thin skin. Although I don’t have scary stories (Whew) or particularly horrendous stories, the callousness and insensitivity of some people used to surprise me. No more.

However, even in the short period of 3 months where I put myself out there in the virtual world, I learned that chatting with someone everyday for almost a month can result in nothing, kisses don’t mean the same to everyone, conversations can end abruptly with no explanation and people still to try to get away with pictures from 10 years ago. I have learned that just because I might be ready to put myself out there in the universe, the universe knows better.

I’ve decided to take a break from chatting for a little while. The timing doesn’t seem to be right and I know that I have other things I can focus my energy on namely, getting my badass on.

I put myself first today. I reminded myself that I fucking matter.