Gregg, You Earned Your Own Post

So let us talk about Gregg. I matched Gregg one day. He’s attractive, it was a match. I send Gregg a message. Tinder always suggests messages to send when you don’t send one for a minute. This one says, “Send a message to Gregg telling him your most embarrassing Tinder moment.” Umm no thanks Tinder. What I do send is, “Happy Tuesday Gregg! You ever crack up at the messages the app suggests you send?” He responds easily enough with “Well?” He tells me he met two nice girls but they ended up being stalkers. On my Tinder my job title is “Professional Traveler”. I tell him I’m a flight attendant and he says he dated one on and off for the last year and it was tough because she was gone a lot. I can understand that Gregg, I do meet myself coming and going and sometimes I don’t actually know where I am. I have caught myself saying, “We’re in Chicago right?” It is what it is. I told him I was on reserve and he knew what I meant. He then tells me, “On call is rough. It’s basically why me and my ex broke up in December. You can’t plan anything with your partner #insertsadfacehere”. At this point I’m just thinking palm to my mothereffing forehead. I can’t get a break. He tells me goodnight, I tell him goodnight. Then my roommate and I proceed to make fun of him for about 30 minutes because I cannot understand how all these men are so into their fucking feelings. I feel like the man is already mourning my loss and he hasn’t even met me. We nickname him “Crybaby Gregg”.

I waited about two days and I sent a message asking Gregg if my career choice made me a no for him. At this point I’m not into playing the games and going through any kind of anything for a stranger. I was expecting a firm no or nothing at all. I get a, “not necessarily it’s a bummer but not a deal breaker.” He agrees to meet but tells me he has plans. I give him my schedule and send him my number. At this point my number is just a fucking free for all. Why not.

Randomly I get a message from Gregg giving me HIS number despite me already giving him mine…. I wait a day, because at this point I’m not taking Gregg seriously any longer. I’m just waiting to see how it plays out.

I send Gregg a text at 6 p.m. I am awakened at 1:07 a.m. I’m just going to post it here because you know… I’m not surprised necessarily.

Thus ends the Crybaby Gregg saga. He gets his own post for being utterly ridiculous. Ridiculous. I unmatch him, screenshot the conversation so I can make fun of it with my roommates, and I go back to sleep. Bye Gregg Bye.

Spam Guy

Now that I have decided I want “casual fun” it seems that is remarkably harder than trying to date. These people have feelings and they are FEELING them. I swipe right on “Elan”. He’s not my usual- his photos are kind of “modelish” and he seems to be feeling himself a little too much. He’s not super manly, and I like manly. It’s a match. I send some generic message I cut and paste from some dude that messaged me. I’m just cutting and pasting at this point.

Elan tells me he’s fresh out of a LTR (that’s long term relationship y’all) and that he wants “casual fun”. The term sounds ridiculous but hey it seems like exactly what I’m looking for at this point. Tinder Michael really just burned me. I tell him I’m on the same page. I too, would like “casual fun”. Still hating the term though.

We text back and forth that day and he asks what I look like. I tell him the truth, I’m athletic and a DD. I feel that’s relevant for CF (I can’t keep saying it). He tells me that he gets most complimented on his mouth, his eyes and wati for it… his dick. Thank you so much Tinder Jesus (blasphemy).

Then he asks for my number. I text it to him. He says, Hey I’m from Tinder. I was like, “uh name please” (because you can’t be the only contender big guy). He says, “it’s Elan”. Let me start off by saying I am a Scorpio so I am investigative by nature (and former LEO field for 9 years ok). Elan’s photos, aside from being “modelish” appeared to not take place in Maryland, as he indicated, but somewhere in California. I am a seasoned traveler. My airline loves to send me to California. I recognize that shit. So, when he texts it is from an LA area code. I am cautious but also piqued by someone not into their feelings. Elan then says, “hey my phone battery is having issues can I call you from my landline.” First of all, it’s 2018 and my 69 year old mother did away with her landline 5 years ago. My 84 year old neighbor has a landline, but she is 84. He calls. My first thought is he doesn’t sound straight and he kind of sounds like he’s whispering. I let it go. We hang up after he asks to send photos. I am not sending some stranger calling me from a blocked landline any photos of my goods. I am not from Planet Stupid. I have tattoos and other things that set me apart from the rest. Let me not be perusing Pornhub one day and see myself on there. Can I get an Amen?

He asks to send photos. I send some innocent full bodies, because I’m thinking he just wants to know if I look how I say. Then I ask him for photos. He says, “what do you want to see?” I say, how about some photos of you in real time. Hey, send me something current. My guard is up at this point because he’s setting off my alarm bells. I’m looking at his texts and simultaneously looking at my Tinder. He unmatches me. I send a, “sorry i’m not sending nude/compromising photos to someone that calls me from a blocked landline.” He says, “no worries. Wouldn’t want you to. Take care.” Ok Mister Man. I wish I had the chance to mark him as spam before he knew I knew… but he got away. Self care ladies, do not just send your shit to strangers.  Fuck this guy.

#tinder #tinderspam #datingontinder #spamguy

BBQ Luncheon

I arrive and Joe is there. I’m late by 10 minutes. He is fine AF ladies. Looks just like his photo. A nice 6’2” and muscular. He gives me a hug and his body is as hard and firm as it looks. Ok Joe, let’s eat some BBQ. Let me say for a minute, I can’t eat in front of people I don’t know. So they buy me lunch, I pick at it and I take it home and devour it. He pays for my lunch like a gentleman.

We talk. He tells me I’m more beautiful in person and that I am a pleasant surprise. Let me also state for the record that I am a DD chest. In photos the boobs make me look fat, which I am not. I am athletic with giant tits. So I don’t really post a full body shot. I know that Joe is happy with my boobs and he’s happy that I look fit. I do work out.

As lunch continues I can tell that Joe is falling already. HIs eyes are too bright and he is super excited. He wants to take me for a motorcycle ride. I hear about his roommates and where he lives along with information about his children and his past career. You know what Joe knows about me? Where I live, what I do for a living and that I like football. These men do not ask questions. He really knows nothing about me at this point, but he thinks he loves me already. I see it on his face.

I can’t get Michael to man up but I have Tinder Joe looking at me like a snack. When a man’s eyes light up, you know you have him. The man was under his breath, “you look amazing. You’re better in person.” Maybe I am like a man. I need a challenge. This man has also reminded me to keep that light out of my eyes when I meet someone I like. Keep it under wraps so they don’t see I’ve been gotten. I’m learning lessons out here.

I cut things off with Tinder Joe after about an hour and a half at lunch. I feel like the man could stare into the oceans of my fake green contacts for hours. It’s time for me to go. He walks me to my car. The man is truly a gentleman. Honestly, if I could get this need to just get laid and not give a fuck out of my system and this man could get his rebound girl, there might have been a chance for us. Tinder Joe is a good guy; however I know he’s not healed yet and I don’t want to be a nice man’s rebound. That’s how I would end up getting hurt again. I have to do it differently this time somehow.

He texts me later that he likes my confidence and he wishes he could spend more time with me. That confidence you like Mister Man comes straight out of my new novel, “don’t give a FUQ”. If I gave one, you would have ridden away on your motorcycle looking for someone else.

I am now 1 in 1 million vaginas. How do I stand out from all the other greedy bitches? I literally do not believe I can actually meet someone at work. Passengers are dicks and pilots are dicks. I have no desire to be single for the rest of my life. I am too sexual for that. I know people that can forego. Not that girl. Not today.

 

Old School Joe

I match and get a message that he’s old fashioned and would like to meet up sooner rather than later for a drink. OK. I’m off this week and seriously I’m looking to get laid, but have learned from Tinder Matt that I have to play the game first. We message for maybe two days and he says he’s going on a motorcyle ride and can we meet for lunch? Why the fuck not.

I give him my number expecting a text. The man calls. On the phone. Someone forgot to tell the man it’s 2018 and we don’t talk on phones anymore. I know most of his story in 10 minutes. Freshly divorced by a woman that cheated on him while he did all the work. My brain heard some more stuff but I think I tuned it out yadda yadda yadda. Blah blah blah. Then we get to lunch. He makes ME pick. Again why do I always have to pick? You pick. Please someone pick the place. I’m just going to get a go to place in every city at this point. I’m going to pick a bar and a restaurant in every city. The people will know me when I come in as “the woman with many men”. I’m going for burgers, BBQ and high end vodka. If you want to see me at night, I like prime rib.

Tinder Joe is very nice and easy to talk to. We agree to lunch on Thursday. I pick BBQ. Close to me, far from him. That’s what you get.

The Day I Flipped the Script

You need some thick skin to do this online dating game. Strangers can and will hurt your feelings. At some point between a few days ago and today I decided to stop looking for love or the next relationship. It’s been too long since I’ve had sex and getting used via text etc has taken its toll. I just need to go back to my roots. The me that didn’t care. Let me juggle 10 men. Thank you.

On the other side of the proverbial coin, men do not like it when you reverse the script. When you flip it. Hey Matt, what’s your dick size? Hey John, are you a bad boy? Seriously, they flip out a little. Oh, I’m sorry Tinder Luke, you waited 2.5 days too long to text me. Guess what? Tinder Matt took your place. Seriously boys, take note. I actually have cut and pasted some of your lines into my messages (Thank you Tinder Micheal and Tinder Luke). Hinge John you don’t like when I use your own line against you? It hurts your feelings? Listen, I am no longer looking for love. I need you to have an above average dick size, because it does and always will matter. I also need you to not wait for me to tell you what to do. I need you to pull my hair a bit and put me where you want me. I spend all day of my life being dominant. I need you to man up in bed. I have a primal need for that.

I’m swiping right hard and heavy at this point. I don’t care if they match back. I’m looking for height, brown hair, all teeth and some abs. I decide to permanently share my location with my best friend so he can track my body if it goes missing.

Tinder Matt. I got Matt’s number. Matt texted me and we did the preliminary questionnaire of, “how tall are you and have you been married” yadda yadda. At this point, I’m kind of just wanting to get laid because it has been too long. I’m pretty sexual, but I also struggle with being a “good girl”. I don’t think I want a relationship anymore, but I would like to get laid. Matt comments on my busty chest (I’m a DD) and I’m ok with it because at this is where I am with dating. That gave me the leeway to ask about his dick size, which he says is above average. He proceeds to tell me about a 19 year old he was with and a yoga instructor that was insatiable. I’m not here to compare notes Matt, but I’m going to guess I know a lot more about sex than a 19 year old and I too, am insatiable. We talk about having sex and we agree to meet up. Why not? I am done playing the stupid games that lead up to the actual fucking.

The next day arrives and I end up having to fly to Boston…because that’s my job. It seems Crew Scheduling legit knows when I have plans and then they send a wrecking ball in to do away with them. ALWAYS. I tell Matt this, and he sends me a text that he finds me attractive, but he doesn’t want a FWB, he wants a girlfriend as hard as that is. I give him mad props for his honesty. I promised him free pretzels and an alocholic beverage if I ever see him on a flight (*disclaimer* which of course I will pay for because I’m not profiting from my company ahem).

Tinder Jake. We are still chatting every single day.  He still seems normal.  The meeting up thing is going to be hard because my job… and he works Monday through Friday like everyone else.  I do not, unlike everyone else.

Tinder Alfonso.  I don’t need a mom or a dad, guy.  I had to tell him I’m too busy to date.  Maybe I actually am?  I’m still trying.

So I learned from Tinder Matt that you can’t be straight forward. It doesn’t seem to work. I’m going to have to play the game y’all.  I’m learning way too many lessons I had no interest in learning from trying to date in 2018 y’all. I’m annoyed at this point.

 

The Day I Burned My Life to the Ground…

Flight attendants. We like to drink. I’m talking 10 am to 10 pm. Drink. Drinkkkkk. Let me start by saying Dublin, Ireland is cool. When you’ve been to Dublin 6 or more times, it becomes very small. You walk to the local market and buy your salami and cheese and then you start drinking. And when I say start, I really mean you have already started after your flight lands at 10 a.m. Because Dublin is so special, the hotel hosts a happy hour. Since the competing airline left, if one flight crew goes downstairs at 530 p.m. then you can average about 1.5 bottles of wine per person. Let’s pretend I had a 1.5 liter bottle of sangria starting at 10 a.m. Then let’s pretend I get lost trying to actually sight see (because I’m hammered) and I decide to go to the local pub. The famous “Temple Bar”. I go to the pub and I have two double vodkas with my roomie. Because my bottle of Sangria needs a friend in my belly. Oh shit girl it’s happy hour at the hotel! Free Wine! So off we go. We get there in time. Five of us discover we are in charge of 9 bottles of wine. Plus the 2 extra that we already had. 11 bottles of wine. 3 men go down. 3 still remain. Why not! We have a late check in and it doesn’t bother the 8 hour rule (we have to not drink for a full 8 hours before we fly, and I always honor this rule).

FUCK it I am one. You know those times when you wish you had a future you that could backhand the shit out of the past you? I needed future me this night. I needed my future self to knock the fuck out of my past self.

Somehow between watching the World cup and passing out, some serious shit went down. Life altering shit. 3.5 bottles of wine and 1 liter of sangria and the multiple double vodkas don’t have any filter and/or emotional control. When I say I destroyed a friend, had phone sex and resurrected a ghost in two hours, I did some serious work. I remember nothing but I saw the text messages and the aftermath when I woke up the next morning. My pajamas were on backwards and all of the contents of my suitcase were strewn about the floor. I woke up thinking, “oh shit. I’ve done something bad.”

I’m obviously an angry fucking bitch. I burned a bridge like Sodom and Gomorrah honey. Can’t even turn back to look at it. Turn into a pillar of salt because salty bitch here decided to unleash three years of swallowed fury. I apparently let loose on my ex (who incidentally still has my stuff and I need for dog care) about all the wrongs he’s done over the last 6 years. Not only that, but I talked about his unhealthy relationship with his mother, I brought up the fact that everyone thinks he has a homosexual relationship with his best friend and called him a plethora of bad names. I couldn’t even look at it. I have an Iphone so I see the point where he actually blocked my number. I see it go from blue to green. My heart sinks. Fuck. So much for staying friends and ensuring my dogs have someone to care for them.

Then I look at my outgoing calls. FML. I had a stud back home that I have been flirting with. Little blips of the night before are coming back. I had dirty, hot phone sex with my Italian Stallion. This one I can applaud myself on a little. The man is fine and it has been a long time coming… but still I would like to remember it. I don’t remember very much of it, and that makes me sad.

I also resurrected Michael from the dead via WhatsApp…then I appear to have immediately killed it again only 30 minutes later. I pat myself on the back for the resurrection, my words were true and amazing. Then I quickly disintegrated it back into dust. I don’t blame him on that one. I ended up sounding sad and desperate. Knowing me, I know what I meant was heartfelt and not sad and desperate, but it most certainly did not read that way.

Mostly this day was a giant belly flop into the pool of life. I had an amazing time, but I need to have my phone taken away from me if I ever decide to black out. Fuck me.

#dublinisfun #drunkmesucks #datingonline #datingat40 #someonetakemyphone #tinder #ghosting #swipingleft #swipingright

The More the Merrier

Let’s keep them coming! I mean how bad can it get right? I have to find someone out here that isn’t crazy right? I talk to people all the time who abashedly say they met their significant others on Tinder. I’ve always been somewhat of a positive polly. So I’m going to keep going with this.

Let’s talk about Matt. I messaged Matt a couple of times and he said he dated a flight attendant prior. He knew all the right questions to ask. As soon as I said I was on reserve, I kind of lost Matt. He said “It was so sad dating her because I never knew when she was coming home. You can’t even be around for Christmas and holidays.” Well FML Matt we haven’t even met one another’s families yet or had drinks. We might hate one another as people in general. I haven’t heard from Matt for a few days. Matt seems a bit of a pussy if you’re asking.

Then there is Jake… Jake seems normal. He’s a British guy but he also lets me know he’s 200 miles away. Well fuck it all why not? This guy is smart, has a daughter and is a graphic designer. He has his own place and he seems very well off. He’s a contender. He is cool with chatting for a bit, obviously I’m flying across the country and he’s 200 miles away.

I spoke to a guy named Mike briefly. He called me at 0400 on my way to the airport and I knew everything about him in 20 minutes. I knew his car, his divorce history, that he may or may not have an illegitimate bastard son… and of course his ex-wife was crazy. He’s in the military and trains firearms at Quantico. I cannot stand the guy honestly. I’m not a big talker, and I’m also slightly ADHD so I’m not such a good listener. I made up something like, “oh I thought I was ready to date but realized I’m not.” He got the hint. Good luck buddy! You’re not for me, but I didn’t ghost him!

I’m not quite out of give a fucks yet y’all!  I swiped right at least 5 out of every 200 now!

#positivepolly #datingat40 #tinder #noghosting #somewinandsomelose #swipedright

Just Swiping the Eff out of Tinder

Let’s talk about the current shit show of online dating. I have thrown my one man at a time concept out the window. Let’s just run amuck with all the guys.

Blow Job Guy: I don’t remember his real name. His profile didn’t have an age on it. He started out the conversation normally enough. Then we discussed age. He let me know he was 31 years old and was super happy I was older than him. Guy you just ruined my math scale for how young I can date. The formula goes like this: (My age/2)+7= age of man. Then he just busts out with this question, “Can you give me a blow job while I film it?” I’m not going to do that. I don’t do filming of anything. Unmatch (but I told him why).

Alfonso: We chat for awhile and I decide to send him my number. I bet you can’t guess where Alfonso works? I’m not even going to type it out. You know. My first texts with Alfonso go well. The normal chatty stuff. I walked away from my phone during a chat with him and went to do some adulting. I looked at my phone maybe 40 minutes later and I have many messages. They go something like this:

Where are you?

Did you go somewhere?

Are you coming back?

What are you doing?

Me to myself, “what the literal fuck guy?” I was like, “hey man I was doing adult things because I have errands and a life.” I can see this is not going to work out. I waited a few days and then I just told the man my schedule was too busy and I realized that I didn’t have time to date right now. This is partially true because it is increasingly hard for me to find days off where I could actually meet someone.

There are more to talk about but just thinking about the idiocracy of it all makes me tired. It’s time for a vodka and a nap.

#tindermakesmedrink #morethanoneguy #swipingright #mostlyswipingleft #tinderfails #tinder #onlinedating

I like to emotionally punish myself

I swiped right on someone. His name is Scott. He looks like a dad, but he’s a salt and pepper dad and honestly I haven’t got a type. He’s 6’6” and he’s retired. Maybe I need a daddy? I literally have nothing to lose with these people but time. He’s a government worker (a theme in this area). He’s 6’6”. He tells me he gets the shift life, he lived it so he can hang with it. I quickly figure out that Scott drinks quite a bit. He sends me drunk messages on Tinder (at this point I’m not giving out my number because I don’t need a graveyard of Tinder ghosts. After about two weeks, Scott realizes my life is as busy as I said it was with no bullshit attached.

I live out of a suitcase. What do people want from me? Expectations of seeing me need to be pretty low… men think they like that but they apparently do not. So many fallen off messages. I started during “summer flying” my bad.

Another one bites the dust. I unmatch you just so you don’t have to. You’re welcome.

#tinderdaddy #tinder #swipedright #flightattendantlife #tinderfail #dating

Tinder Fails

Steve: He’s 37 years old ladies. He is a sperm donor and is here to help us on our journey to motherhood. He indicates his offer is very real, and very serious. Steve includes a neon photo of sperms swimming to some orosphere I can only assume is my unfertilized egg. My ovaries spasmed… with grief.

Andy: This one kind of made me sad, but he put it out there. He is 43 years old and is a maid at… “self employed”. Man doesn’t have a job. He is in a very constrictive latex maid outfix that goes from head to toe. The platforms he is wearing made my feet break out in blisters in empathy. The black latex skirt he is wearing would indicate he can walk in two inch steps the entire time he is “cleaning’. I don’t have that kind of time Andy. In addition to cleaning my home, he wants to provide me with an interesting and relaxing day where I can put my feet up. Andy, again, I haven’t got that kind of time.

#tinder #tinderfails #shouldigiveup #datingonline #datingat40