Don't get it, never will..Simple Suggestions On How Not To Date..

I have had several men tell me that they love me.  My common response is, "Thanks!" This is a story about #33 I met #33 in about 2004.  He was forgettable.  I was in a relationship with #29 at the time.  He struck me as kind of a kid, barely a teenager.  He was tall and skinny--I wasn't impressed.  He was eager though (I like them a little eager). I met him again at Chipotle in 2009.  Still tall, still skinny, still eager.  I flirted, then he got my phone number.  We dated for about 4 months before he dropped the bomb (bomb #1), "I think I'm falling in love with you." Oh really? Well let me help you out there Bro--I'm gone.  Can't fall in love with a figment of your imagination.  Pause:  I'm not insensitive guys.  No, really, contrary to popular belief.  It's just that  I didn't believe him.  He worshipped me, ALL parts of me.  He was sweet.  He thought I was beautiful--he had a "type...

What the hell does that mean anyways? Are the ugly more plausibly single? I hear this all the time.  I hear it from the old people at work, especially the ladies trying to hook me up with their sons or grandsons.  Do you know how many nephews and great nephews, etc. I have been introduced to?  What is wrong with these people?  I can't possibly look good in scrubs, they're not flattering.  I hear it from the men that hit on me (this is a common line used to test the waters).  "You have got to be taken."  Really?  Why is that?  Because I'm cute? Pause:   I feel like I need to prove myself to those who may not know me personally.  I am not ugly!  Solid 8 on a 10 scale, maybe a 9 on a good day.  Well don't just take my word for it.        I wouldn't lie to you.    This whole "too pretty to be single" thing drives me crazy.  People often look at me dumbfounded when ...

I told y'all that I don't discriminate, right? This is a story about #58. The around the way guy, the local weed man.  Don't look at me funny.  I don't have to go into details.  He was gorgeous.  Tall, lean, tone, and black as tar.  He looked like a sexy male model, not really my type, but very, very do-able.  We knew each other for a while, maybe 2 or 3 years before it ever dawned on me that he was attracted to me.  I honestly believe that it had just dawned on him that he was attracted to me.  He struck me a sort of a "fat ass" man; I don't fit the description.  Anyways, after 2 or 3 years of popping up, stopping by, and eating my damn food, he started to tug at my pants when I would walk by or play in my hair when he sat next to me.  Oh, he wanted it. I stopped and evaluated the situation.  I had to admit that I didn't know much about him, wasn't even sure I knew his real name.  I didn't know where he live...

This is the story about #4. Those who know me best know that I fell in love for the first time when I was about 14.  I didn't know anything about myself yet, so I fell in love based on appearance and "gut feelings." His cousin (nice body), #3, was the one who actually got my number.  What?! Closed mouths don't get fed.  It ended pretty quickly (you ever notice how most relationships end before pivotal days like birthdays or Valentine's Day?  Men are assholes, strategic assholes).  So I spent the next 13 years of my life being head over heels in love with this man.  I always appreciated the fact that he never took advantage of my weakness for him.  It was pure, innocent and real.  As I got older and in relationships and those relationships became more complex, I thought I was holding on to a pleasant memory skewed by time.  Until I saw him again.  In fact, every time I see him, my stomach drops and my mouth goes dry.  He...

This is your chance to show your creativity gentlemen; don't blow it! This is one of my favorite topics! As ladies, we dismiss these lines as mere whimsy.  Roll our eyes at the corny one-liners.  I, however, admire the recent surge of creativity.  I gag a little when I hear the usual ones: "Hey Ma, where your man at?" Annoying and grammatically incorrect.  Moving on. "Hey Boo, I'm going home with you tonight."  Umm no you're not.  "Damn, Slim! You sexy!"  You barely formed a sentence.  Boy bye.  I like it when they call me Slim, but WHERE'S THE ORIGINALITY?! I once had an older guy ask me if I was a gospel singer--GENIUS!  Think about it.  It's absurd enough to make me laugh (I get them with my killer smile), and inquisitive enough for me to actually answer.  Conversation starter.  Men, you really can't go wrong if you call her beautiful.  Even if she's not interested, she'll at least smile.  So...

I got into this heated discussion about this very important topic with #29 about 6 months ago.  My side of the argument: Single adults need to have relationships with other adult individuals, preferably also single.  Not necessarily a romantic relationship, just a companion.  Someone with which to spend some time and talk.   Someone to share some part of your world or a common interest.  The definition of these relationships will be defined by the individual.  For some, this will be a sexual relationship defined by kinky meeting and pretty underwear.  For others, this will be a regular meeting place written in pen in the date book, a weekly matinee, a new restaurant every time.  For others still, it's an exchange of emails and an occasional drink when busy lives cross (I should have been a lawyer, this is an excellent opening argument).  I continued: This is the best way to stay out of complicated relat...

Let's throw some numbers around.  I would like to start with #24.   Not because he was particularly memorable or etched his name on a corner of my heart.  He, in fact, failed at most attempts to gain my affection or attention.  I want to talk about #24 because he's safe like a gay guy.  Because he's still around.  Because he's my friend and still offers me some comedic relief.  I have been laughing at #24 for years. I met him on the internet.  Pause:  Before everyone starts turning their face upside down, let me set the record straight.  Meeting someone on the internet just sort of happens sometimes.  Groups, blogs, facebook, twitter, etc. lead to common interests, leads to the exchange of phone numbers, leads to dates.  That's how it happens for everyone, right? #24 and I started conversing about music first.  He had some equipment and some editing software on his computer.  He had me right there-...

I feel like I should give you some background information, (Shout out in my next blog to the person that can remember the teacher in 8th grade at Frank Ohl Middle School who wouldn't let you say "like" or "um" in his class) there's a reason that I am the way that I am today.  There's a reason for everything.  For as long as I can remember, until recently, I haven't really been single.  I don't like being single!! It's stressful!! I have to look good ALL the time, because that one time I leave the house in sweat pants and an extra large t-shirt (probably originally belonging to a guy), the man of my dreams will pass me by because I look like a tattered, brown gremlin.  I have to smile a lot.  I have to be friendly.  I have to be charming.  It's all an act guys--I'm an asshole.  No, really.......ask my friends.  Many of my relationships end if they really believe that I'm always nice and pretty everywhere I go.  Ugh no... B...

No really, how the hell do I begin to tell people that I know how much of a failure that I am?  Just traditionally, you know, in the eyes of society.  I feel like I'm in a constant state of winning, but I have to admit that I am baffled by the opposite sex. I feel like I should stop and give you a couple of disclaimers.  Those who know me best, know that I am the sweetest, nicest, goofiest and most laid back person that has ever lived, in a way.  I am very sarcastic.  I am a little abrupt.  My filter doesn't always work like it's supposed to.  I am a realist, extremely optimistic, and a tad wistful.  I curse.  I am pretty racist--not in a discriminatory way. (Lord knows I don't discriminate!)  But, I am well aware of differences.  I laugh inappropriately.  These are some of my best qualities guys.  Ok, so dilemna..... I can't get a man.  Don't scoff, I'm not a gremlin--not a supermodel. (I like to think mor...