New year, who dis?

HAPPY 2017, Y’ALL!

The dreaded 2016 is finally over. #praise

Now y’all are probably (still) dying to know what’s going on in my dating life (at least I hope y’all still care). Here’s a brief recap:

  • Met a guy out at a bar who I thought was amazing, funny, sweet, etc. I was looking to slow get to know him and he was looking for someone to fill the girlfriend position in his life. Long story short, he got bored when I wasn’t ready to bare my soul to him after three weeks and moved on.
  • Met up with my ex and his new girlfriend. Turns out I’m doing just fine on my own.
  • Finally decided to end something that has run its course. Details to come on the execution because I hate conflict (lol).

So what have I learned in 2017? I’ll tell ya:

  1. A guy won’t respect you anymore than he already does if you wait to have sex with him. If you wanna fuck him, go ahead.
  2. Closure is an AMAZING feeling. Tie up your loose ends and move on.
  3. Take a break from dating assholes and give a nice guy a chance. They deserve it and you deserve to be treated well.
  4. Keep an open mind. You never know when a random Tinder match can grow into something more.
  5. Being single during the holidays is freakin’ fantastic. No one to kiss at midnight, but who needs someone when you and your girls get into a club for free? Having a boy at midnight would have just been a party pooper. Plus you won’t have anyone trying to get a piece of your rumcake. Win win win.

In all seriousness, thanks for hanging in there with me last year! Thanks for reading and sharing my stories – it means to lot. Cheers to getting more dates and giving less fucks this year.

Missed me?

Y’all.

Forgive me, for I have sinned.

I have neglected my precious blog and those of you who read. My bad.

Now that I’ve repented for my blogging sins, I’m sure y’all are dying to know the updates on my love life, right?

Alright, here goes.

After dealing with Harrison and crazy Nick, I decided to take some time off from searching for boys on Bumble/Hinge/Tinder and let the boys come to me. Like moths to a flame kinda thing, ya know?

And just like that, this flame attracted Derek, a 28-year-old Philosophy PhD candidate at a local university.

We met at an Eastside bar where all the hipsters and ratchets hang out. I did my typical “drunk wink from afar and hope they notice me” and just like a moth to a flame (you tired of this metaphor yet?), he headed my way.

“Hey, how ridiculous is this bachelorette party going on right now?” GREAT pickup line, Derek.

“Hahaha, I actually think it’s kinda cute!” Which I did think it was cute because I love weddings and all the parties that go along with them.

Derek didn’t look super convinced that the bachelorette party was cute, so I asked him to dance to take his mind off things. Now, Derek was a SWG (skinny white guy) so dancing isn’t quite his strongest suit, but he made a valiant effort.

After two songs of awkward gyrating (I’m not exaggerating, this kid was an awful dancer), Derek decided to head to another bar. “Hey, me and my buddies are gonna head down to Church. Uh, can I get your number?”

Obvi drunk me acquiesced with “Sure! I’ll put it in your phone.”

Derek reached in his pocket and pulled out……………………………………………………………

…………………………………………………………………………………………………………………..

a bootleg Blackberry.

Drunk me: “…you don’t have a smartphone?!”

Derek: “No, I have a dumb phone. I’ll call you.”

And sure enough he did. For our first real date he suggested we meet up for drinks near my alma mater. I honestly couldn’t remember what he looked like but when a SWG walked in the door I figured it was him (can you tell I have a type?).

We talked about normal date things until he brought  up the bachelorette party. “I don’t get why people get married young.” Because they love each other, duh.

“Think about it: you spend all this money on a wedding for people you don’t  care that much about for a marriage that may or may not last.” Well damn, tell me how you really feel.

As someone who has quite a few married friends, I felt it necessary to stick up for them. Mostly to play Devil’s Advocate, tbh. “Well, a lot of my friends are married, so I guess when you have someone you really love it makes sense.” “Ugh, don’t tell me that! That freaks me out.” Chill, bro, I’m not asking you to marry me.

When it was time to go home,  I offered him a ride to the nearest bus stop. “It’s okay, I’ll just call a Lyft from here.” I found it kinda weird that he could order a Lyft with no smartphone, but I left it alone.

Our second date came a week later. We decided on tacos followed by a walk in the park. Cute, right?

Except ol’ boy was 25 minutes late. Now folks, date tardiness is my pet peeve. Don’t make me waste my time waiting on you. But I digress. After being “stuck in traffic” for 25 minutes, he finally arrived. Again, date conversation was pretty normal until he starting getting super philosophical on me. “New Year’s Eve is the worst holiday ever. There’s so much build-up to midnight and it never lives up to the hype. It’s just another reminder that a year has passed by and another reminder of all the things people didn’t get to accomplish in that year.” NYE is my favorite holiday. Just putting that out there.

After we finished our tacos, it was time for our walk in the park (mainly so I could sober up from the v. strong margarita I downed).

I tried to get to know him a little better by asking a very important question: “So why don’t you have a smartphone?”

“Well, my last iPhone broke and I had this as a backup. Now iPhones are way too expensive and there’s too much of a cult following, so I’ll just keep this one. This thing is almost indestructible.” Yeah, because it’s old as shit.

Another important question: “So do you drive?

“No, I just Uber everywhere or take public transit.” I honestly don’t remember the rest of our conversation because I was too fixed on trying to figure out how he uses Uber and Lyft without a smartphone.

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Later that night, I gave my friends a play-by-play of our date and shared the puzzling mystery with them. My friend Monica jokingly said, “He’s probably a drug dealer with two phones. One for the plug and one for the load.”

And then it all made sense. His whole “I don’t believe in the cult following of iPhones” cover was total bullshit. He definitely has another phone for his downlow activities and Ubering. I see right through your shit.

The next day I texted him and thanked him for the date, wished him a good week, blah blah blah.

“Hey, yeah no worries. I’m sorry but I don’t think I’m going to pursue this any further.”

My exact words: “LOL same, good luck!”

A few weeks later I woke up to a 2 am drunk text from him: “Hey, you out?”

Why, so you can turn me into your trap queen? No thanks, Derek the Drug Dealer.

I thought that would be the last I saw or heard from him until I matched with him on Tinder three weeks later. Now, how the HELL could he have a Tinder profile with that dinky-ass dumb phone of his?

What a scammer.

 

 

 

 

Doing Too Much, Part 2

One of my pet peeves when I first started casually dating was men who called women crazy. Why? Well, first of all, mental illness is a very serious issue in this country and shouldn’t be joked about. Second of all (as I step down from my soapbox), is that I know guys use calling a girl crazy as a cop-out. That girl who showed her interest by calling you and texting you and showing up at your condo at 8 a.m. isn’t crazy, she’s just super excited to see you.

After dealing with Harrison and reevaluating my questionable choice in men, I started realizing “crazy” may be the only way to describe some suitors and their dating habits.

Take Nick, for example. Poor, sweet, eager Nick – a 25 year-old supply chain analyst for Lowe’s.

I met Nick after shaking off a two month situation-ship (another story for another time). After matching, we talked about normal things: Sunday evening television, not wanting to go to work on Monday, and food. “Let me cook for you!” No. I don’t know you or what your kitchen looks like.

“When are you free? And why did you swipe right?” Y’all, let me tell you how much I hate this question. Why does anyone swipe right on these apps? Because we’re either bored and we find you intriguing or we think you’re cute. Your pick.

He asked for my number and I gave it to him anyway because one little date couldn’t hurt, right?

“Hey it’s Nick! Before we meet, why Bumble? You’re my first Bumble match since I don’t use it that often. And is it bad I wouldn’t mind dating someone if it worked out?” So we’ve got a Bumble-newbie on our hands. Challenge accepted.

We originally agreed to get drinks a local bar/arcade on Thursday (even though Thursdays are Scandal nights, but WHATEVS). “Oh, do you like tacos? Let’s do Taco Tuesday! Or do Thursday since I have a networking event. If all goes well Taco Tuesday is a first date. The networking event costs money, but we would meet around a group of people so you know I’m a crazy person.” Dude. You get one day this week. Pick one.

Conversation the next day went as expected. We asked about each other’s day and what we do at work. As I’m getting into bed for my nightly Twitter debrief, my phone rings. Mind you, it’s 10 p.m. “Hey it’s Daniel! What are you up to?” Dude, I am trying to SLEEP. “I’m driving from back from dinner. Oh, by the way, I’m using my GPS and my phone is on 3% so if the call cuts off it’s because my phone died.” Then why did you call me, sir? And fam, he was a chatty one. We talked about work – possibly the last thing I want to talk about after 10 on a Monday. He even gave my unsolicited work advice. Because I haven’t already been working for two years. Then, all of a sudden, the call drops. Thank God. Oh, but don’t worry. He called me back to make sure I didn’t think he hung up on me.

And that was just the beginning of the phone calls. He called me every day up until we met just to ask about my day and spend the rest of the time humble-bragging about himself. “I’m super fit – I ran home during lunch for a workout. My cardio is super intense.” “I turned down an amazing job offer in LA and now I’m bored with my job.” The self-compliments were non-stop. My friend asked why I still agreed to go out with him. Good question, Steven.

Thursday finally came. Of course he called to chat on the way home and of course I barely got a word in. I told him I would see him that evening after his networking event. At 7:12, roughly 20 minutes before our meeting, he calls me (call #2) to tell me he’s just leaving his house and on his way to the networking event. “I’m only gonna stop in to say hi and I should only be about 5 minutes late!”

7:46 pm (call #3): “Hey, I’m leaving the event now. Sorry, I started talking about work and time got away from me.” Classic.

7:57: pm: (call #4): “Hey, I’m pulling into the parking garage now. So sorry I’m late! This parking garage is pretty big, so I’ll probably call you so I can find you after I park.” NO MORE CALLS PLZ.

He finally managed to park and find me, and I headed straight to the bar because I needed a drink after all that. Of course he took the opportunity to humble-brag about his bourbon preferences and ask for the most obscure beer that was clearly not on the menu.

I realize this post is getting pretty long and you’re probably thinking, “Aw, he doesn’t seem that crazy!” Therefore, I will summarize the crazy points:

  • He talked SO MUCH. I could barely get a word in edgewise.
  • He constantly grabbed my thigh and didn’t get the hint when I would shift or conveniently use the bathroom so he would stop. “Your legs are super sexy. I love that you’re not uncomfortable when I grab them.” HUH???? The only thigh-gripping allowed on a first date is my hands on a chicken thigh (see below):

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  • He kept seeking validation from me. “What do you think of my shirt? I’m really into men’s fashion.” “Is it a problem I’m short?” (Yes, TBH) “What do you think of my beard? During hunting season I usually have it a lot thicker, but then people think I’m a terrorist.” (EXACT WORDS, PEOPLE.)
  • He also kept asking why I swiped right and what I told my friends about him. “Your friends aren’t gonna show up and spy on me, are they?”
  • “I hang out with my buddy and his girlfriend all the time. They’re great people! I’ll have you meet them soon.”
  • “I usually have a wall built up and rarely let people in. Once you’re outside that wall, there’s no coming back. But I can tell you and I are on the same page. I like you.” Hmm, I think I’ll kindly see myself outside the wall.

I knew I needed to get out of this situation while it was still safe. With the help of my friends, I drafted the typical “It’s not you, it’s me” text.

“Hey Nick, I don’t think things are going to work out between us. You’re very sweet though so I don’t want you to get discouraged in dating girls on Bumble.

His reply: “Do you really think I’m that weak that I’d be discouraged?”

Boy BYE.

Long Time No See

Ghosting (v): the art of ignoring a potential suitor’s texts, emails, etc. in order to avoid the uncomfortable act of turning them down. Often used as a cop-out, ghosting has become a social norm among millennials.

We’ve all done it. Studies show that 1 in 4 millennial men have ghosted. Hell, I’ve done it too, so I guess this whole blog post makes me a hypocrite. (I only did it once!) (Okay, maybe twice)

We’ve also all been on the receiving end of ghosting – from agonizing over their silence and wondering if they fell in a ditch to awkwardly seeing them out in public three weeks later (true story).

Studies (and by studies, I mean my crappy/hilarious dating life) show that men are more likely to ghost than women. But why? Why can’t y’all sack TF up and just say, “Hey girl, thanks but no thanks.” I’m a big girl; I can handle being turned down. That just means you’re blind and don’t realize what a gem I am. *flips hair* *insert sassy girl emoji*

I used to think ghosting was the worst thing that could happen, but I’ve recently been proven wrong. I’m gonna call this phenomenon – wait for it – UN-ghosting.

I have a way with words. I know.

Un-ghosting (v): the art of popping up into a past suitor’s life unexpectedly for the sole purpose of being a troll or out of sheer desperation.

Some of you know what I’m talking about. You’re scrolling through Facebook/Twitter/LinkedIn, see someone and think, “Hey. I haven’t bothered them in a while. Let me try to ruin their day by sliding through the DMs for absolutely no reason!”

Remember Mike, the investment banker who overcompensated for his small penis with his huge arms? Casually ran into him on Bumble and thought, “Nope. Not today, Satan.” Decided to check my LinkedIn for the first time all year and find a request from Mitch. Still not today, Satan.

A week later, I get a Facebook message (clearly this guy is desperate to contact me). “Hey! How’s life treating you, cutie?” SATAN IF YOU DON’T QUIT AND GET THEE BEHIND ME.

And this was just the beginning of being un-ghosted. The following week I get a text from an unknown number. “Hey, it’s Christian!” I met a lot of Christian’s in undergrad, so I naively responded saying I lost all my contacts (again, true story) and ask which one.

Silence.

Thinking it was my long-lost BFF from freshman year, I give the number a call and it goes to voicemail. Much to my dismay the voice belongs to Christian, the one who was down with OPD (Other People’s Dicks). Oh no oh no oh no oh no.  “You have to guess!” I bet you I won’t.

I thought the whole point of ghosting was to never hear from or see that person again. Now this un-ghosting thing? Dis is tew much.

A (Somewhat) Definitive List of Swipe Apps

Okay, my title doesn’t leave much to the imagination so I’ll get to the point. I came up with some of these descriptions while explaining all the apps I’ve tried to my engaged best friend. So here goes my list, in no particular order:

  • Tinder: Ahh, Tinder. The OG of dating apps. Everyone’s favorite scumbag catalog, where girls feel the need to disclaim they’re “not here for hookups!” but still get a daily “DTF” message.
  • Hinge: Tinder’s slightly more mature older sibling. The friends-of-friends algorithm makes it possible for your girls (or guys) to vouch for prospects, but there are still a number of people who are outside your social network. Those are usually the ones who ask, “DTF?”, but in a more polite fashion.
  • Coffee Meets Bagel: I originally thought this was for black girls who like basic white boys (guilty). CMB offers the promise of making dating more simple and fostering *real* connections by offering one match a day. Only problem is after being on it for an extended period of time, the bagels get pretty stale. Womp.
  • OkCupid: Never tried it, but it sounds like swimming in a sea of f*ckboys with no paddle. Yikes.
  • Happn: Bringing you closer to people you’ve crossed paths with multiple times, aka trying to hook you up with your neighbor. Been there, done that. Honestly, don’t bother with this one because it’s pretty useless.
  • Bumble: Finally, an app that puts the ladies in charge! MUJERES! (Espanol for women, if you’re not savvy). There are three types of boys on Bumble: the southern frat boys, the super hip boys with the deepest V-neck imaginable, and the boys who recently glo’d up and got fine but are still slightly awkward (I tend to like those). Be mindful of the crazies – they tend to hide out on Bumble and are hard to get rid of.

Happy swiping!

 

Doing Too Much

Yup. You thirsty young men stay doing too much. Don’t get me wrong – I appreciate it when a guy is confident and shows it. But some of y’all are way too eager-beaver and it makes us girls a bit uncomfy.

Take Harrison for example. And no, I did NOT change this mofo’s name because he deserves to be put on blast.

Following the advice of a few girlfriends, I decided it was in my best interest to broaden my horizons on Bumble. I started swiping on guys who would normally be a “maybe” in my usual course of Bumble operations. I came across Harrison, a 28 year-old banker from Houston, TX. Rather than paraphrasing our conversations in my normal sassy fashion, I’ll let you guys read for yourself. I’ll interject with my reactions so you know exactly how I felt.

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(“Pretty lady”? Tell me something I don’t know)

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(Doesn’t like guac??? Can’t be trusted)

meow

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(There’s barely any room for my shoes and makeup in my suitcases – sorry, Charlie)

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(A little too soon for penis jokes, don’t you think? What if I thought penises were gross? Things would’ve gotten a little awk.)

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(Oh shit, we got an adventure list now?)

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(I was honestly trying to hurry up and get this over with so I can avoid more “Harrison time”)

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(“Lil lady”? PLEASE)

I gave him my number anyway. You’re probably thinking we had our date and he was super eager and doing tew much and I hated it, right? Nah, guys. Worse.

He didn’t even show up.

That’s right, ladies and gents. Ya girl got stood up. Like, FOR REAL. Like, the shit you read in books or see in movies happened to ME. He didn’t text. He didn’t even read my message. Harrison I know you ignored my messages. You can’t hide from read receipts. Read receipts don’t lie.

And here I was thinking, “Hey. He’s kinda doing a lot but you know what? He could be the one.”

Yeah. The next one on this blog.

Long story short, I got played big time. The moral of the story here ladies (and the few gents who read) is this: never trust anyone who doesn’t like guac.

 

Sticking it to the bad guys, huh?

Yes, that’s what I do for a living. Sort of.

To save y’all the boring details of what I do (although many of you reading actually work with me), I consult financial organizations on how to decrease inefficiencies in their revenue cycles. A super vague description, but whenever I explain my job in detail people give me a “huh?” mixed with “why?” expression.

Just like Christian, a 27 y.o. mathematician (I know, right?) living just outside the city. We matched online right before I left to go home for Christmas, so most of our interaction was texting back and forth before our actual meeting.

Of course our conversation started out with the typical questions: Where’d you go to school?  Where do you live? What do you do?

Naturally, I responded with all my typical responses.”Oh, you so you’re sticking it to the bad guys, huh?” (An interesting way of describing my job, but I went with it.) “Sure! What are you up to now?” “Oh, just sitting on my ass right now.” Dang bro, you really don’t have anything else going on right now? Trying to be a smartass, I replied, “Oh I’m at the gym, working on mine.” “WOW, that has my attention…”

Oh AWKWARD. I really wasn’t trying to spit game at the moment. Now y’all know how much I try to be clever in my interactions with young men, so I should have expected him to be intrigued – right? Instead, I didn’t know how to respond with more than a “haha.” Now homeboy was all intrigued ‘n shit and I couldn’t make up a good enough excuse to decline his impending date invitation. Ugh.

I caved in and agreed to meet him for coffee late after work, since he lived in BFE and it took him almost an hour to get into the city. The funny thing about interacting via text for a week is that you can’t really tell how awkward a person is – until you meet them in person and they try to hug you but you extend your hand to shake. Great start to our date.

After finally agreeing to a handshake, we get in line for coffee. Homeboy orders his coffee, looks back at me to see if I want anything, and tells the cashier, “We’re paying separate.” THAT’S FINE, IT’S 2015 AND I CAN PAY FOR MY OWN DAMN COFFEE.

We grabbed our coffee and he took a seat at a table closest to the door – good for a quick getaway. I was pretty curious about what a mathematician actually does. He explained, and it sounded just as unexciting as I thought. “So what do you do for a living?” Haven’t we already gone through this? You came to the conclusion that I stick it to the bad guys, remember? Apparently he needed a refresher.

I gave him my best detailed explanation in layman’s terms so he could understand what I do. Had the pleasure of watching his eyes glaze over until I let on that I get a little sassy with representatives when they’re not being cooperative. “Oh, so do you give them your angry Black girl voice?”

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Dear young men: of all things to ask a lovely Black girl, this is not one. I don’t have different voices of color; I just have Sassy Me voice and Un-Sassy Me voice. That’s it.

But I digress.

Our date ended just as awkward as it began. We didn’t text for a few days, so I assumed he had lost interest and moved on to the next sassy girl. On the third day I got a text saying, “Hey! I feel bad for our date last week. Can I take you out on a real date some time soon?” *Radio silence*

…nah, I’m kidding. In all honesty I forgot to respond until a week later and figured it was too late to say no. Oops.

 

I’m back, b*tches.

I’M BACK!

Sorry to keep y’all waiting for stories! After a ~*brief*~ dating hiatus and going off the grid for two months, I am back and ready to mingle. “But your stories are so funny! Why would a spunky gal like you quit dating?” you may ask. Tbh, I got tired of it. Kept meeting too many duds and getting curved more often than I liked, so I quit. I had a lot of time to just do me and it was great, but now I’m ready to pick up the man-spear again.

All that being said, here’s a recap of my most recent dating adventure.

Met Christian, a 27 year-old business owner from upstate New York with a passion for tacos. I love tacos too, so this was perfect. He asked for my number under the premise that he “wanted to make more friends in town and loved meeting cool new people.” Finally, a guy who genuinely wants to be friends and doesn’t want to date me! This is great for my dating hiatus!

Or so it would seem.

I contacted him after I got back in town (and after an hour-long pep talk with my inner bad bitch) asking if he wanted to meet for coffee. I know – I asked someone out. #newyearnewme. We had a pretty normal coffee non-date with plenty of conversation about movies, music, and millennials taking selfies.

“Oh what’s your Instagram look like? Plenty of selfies?” Ohhhhh you’re a sly one, trying to get my Insta handle outta me! “Here, let me follow you!” Ok, sure. You’re normal so what could it hurt, right?

Two hours later he sends me a Facebook friend request. Now he’s creepin’ hard. “Not too many selfies on your social media, but plenty of boobs!” ….Really, dude? I’ve lived with these girls my whole life. Trust me, I know they’re there. But Ima let this little boob comment slide.

Our conversation for the next week and a half was fairly normal (I’ll spare y’all the boring details because I know you’re here for the juicy/ridiculous stories) until I get a dick snap from Christian. Not his dick, but someone else’s dick. I repeat: SOMEONE ELSE’S DICK, y’all. Like, what am I supposed to do with that? “Sorry, I’m really attracted to you and I tend to get sexually expressive when that happens.” So you send me some other young man’s penis? What if I get slapped with a lawsuit from this young man? “How open minded are you? We should try an experiment!” No the fuck we shouldn’t. Don’t be weird.

Alas, he kept being weird. And sent another dick snap video of a guy (not him, mind you) playing ping pong with his member. What that had to do with me, I’m not exactly sure. “I’m working nearby your apartment later today. I should stop by for Netflix!!!! But if I do, things might get weird.” Plz no. I begged him not to be weird but I guess he couldn’t help himself.

“Ok, I won’t be weird! But that’s considered weird?” Excessive boob comments, random unsolicited dick pics, to name a few things. “Is wanting you with your clothes off considered weird?”

Guys. I’ve known this young man for a solid two and a half weeks. “Let’s get to know each other a little better before we bring clothes into the conversation,” I replied. One last desperate attempt at trying to make this guy normal. “Was coffee not enough?”

Oh so you take me on two coffee dates and expect me to take my clothes off? Wow, great intro back into the dating world.

 

 

 

 

#NewYearNewMe

Happy New Year, loves! Did you have a New Year’s Eve kiss? No? Me neither. I was too busy drinking on a beach in the Caribbean. Be jelly. 🙂

Funny thing about being isolated on an island is that you get a lot of time to reflect on life, especially the last few days of 2015. Had a few drunken pep talks with myself and decided that 2015 kinda sucked, but hey! I survived another year of wading through this awkward dating pool.

To celebrate the end of the year, I decided to blog (while watching The Bachelor, of course) about the good, the bad, and the ugly of 2015, along with a few things I’ve learned along the way.

To the Good Guys: You all were so sweet. Thank you for showing me that there are some gems out here in the rough.

To the Bad Guys: Thanks for not texting me back. Assholes. That’s okay though, because I’m a 10 and y’all don’t have 20/20 vision. (Shout-out to Chris Crocker for my new life motto!)

To the Ugly Guy: You’re a piece of shit. You know who you are.

On a more optimistic note, some things I learned while dating this year:

  • Online dating is super fun and exciting, but meeting boys IRL is cool too.
  • Dating is a lot like interviewing. The pickup line is the new elevator pitch and sometimes you can gather more from a guy’s Hinge profile than from his LinkedIn.
  • Some people genuinely suck – don’t take it personally.
  • Always know your worth! If you don’t believe you’re fabulous, how can you expect a man to?
  • Things don’t always work out like you imagine they would and that’s okay! Life is more interesting when the unexpected happens.

So with all this being said, cheers to the freakin’ new year! And cheers to more dates, finding the one (or at least a date to my best friend’s wedding), and to my readers who make this blogging thing so much fun. Thanks for sticking with me!

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Dear F*ckboy…

For those of you unfamiliar with the term f*ckboy, Urban Dictionary describes one as a young man who, “ain’t about shit.” A pretty accurate description of some of the men (boys, really) I’ve met along the way. This entry isn’t a funny dating story (sorry!), but a series of questions for all the past, present, and (hopefully not) future f*ckboys I mistakenly let in my life. Gentlemen (and I use that term loosely), these are all burning questions that I’m sure a lot of other fabulous young ladies such as myself would like answered. If you’re a current or former f*ckboy reading this, please help your female counterparts out.

Dear F*ckboy:

  • Why do y’all not text back?
  • Why do you swipe right and ignore my witty opening line? I spend a lot of time crafting those things.
  • Related: Where do you find your Tinder pick-up lines? Because “Sup girl, wanna make a twerk vine?” is pretty creative.
  • Why are y’all so thirsty? Don’t y’all drink water?
  • Why do you only hit girls up at 11:00 pm? (Actual question from one of my readers)
  • Why do you think you’re entitled to the booty?
  • Why do you send unsolicited dick pics? Your peckers aren’t that pretty, tbh.
  • What is your obsession with “Netflix & Chill”? Do y’all ever upgrade to “Amazon Prime & Commitment”, or is that against your beliefs

Now, before you go calling me angry, hear me out. I’m just trying to understand you so I can step up my dating game.  Help a sista out, boys.

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