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Weird Dating Moments: You Can’t Buy My Washer and Dryer

6 Aug

I moved into a new house last month (just renting).

I LOVE not walking down 3 flights of stairs first thing in the morning so my dog can piss and shit in a teeny spot of grass in the parking lot while all the neighbors see me looking like a hot mess. After years of apartment building living, I’ll never take the presence of a front and back yard for granted.

What I don’t love about the new place? The absence of a washer and dryer.

I’ve never been without laundry appliances. My new place didn’t come with, so I’m forced to purchase them. I’m a bit leery of buying used appliances on Craigslist and still tapped out from the move, so I’m laundry appliance-less for the moment. (Otherwise known as, I’m making weekly trips to my parent’s house towing garbage bags full of dirty laundry). Even if I did find a decent washer and dryer on C-List, I have no idea how to get it here. None of my friends own a truck.

front loading washer and dryer

I knew it was too good to be true when a guy I dated with a few times mentioned he finally sold his house and was selling most of his appliances.

Immediately I ask, “You don’t happen to be trying to get rid of a washer and dryer?”

He answers, “Actually, I was planning to sell my washer and dryer to my friend _____ for $200, but I think he’s lost interest. They’re really nice front loaders. I don’t need them anymore.”

“I’ll give you the $200 for them,” I quickly interjected. “Let me know if he doesn’t want them because I’ll buy them. That would seriously help me out.”

Two weeks passed with no mention of the washer and dryer. I assumed he sold them to his friend as planned. Then, one evening during an innocent dinner he blurts out, “I sold my washer and dryer today.”

“I hate you,” I said (half-joking). Then again, I hadn’t planned on being the recipient anyhow. “Your friend decided he wanted them?”

“No. I re-listed them on Craigslist a few days ago for more money. Someone paid me $300 instead of $200.”

What the fuck face

No washer and dryer for you.

If that wasn’t bad enough, he dropped me off and stopped in to use my bathroom after dinner. He used the main bathroom – where the washer and dryer hookups are prominently displayed. Upon exit, he proclaimed, “Woah, you have a huge empty space in there for a washer and dryer!”

What. The. Fuck.

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I’m Sorry: An Apology Letter to My Ex Boyfriend

24 Jun

Dear ex-boyfriend,

Since I have reason to believe you knew about my dating blog, I’d like to extend my deepest apologizes regarding the demise of our one and a half month relationship. Clearly our break-up was entirely my fault, so here goes:

I'm sorry

I’m sorry that you went off your meds. When you first mentioned that you’d been on anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds, I tried to be understanding.  But it’s obvious why a doctor prescribed them to you. You really need to take them. Like, seriously. You have crazy eyes.

I’m sorry about my ADD. While it pales in comparison to your dark and twisted mood swings, apparently it forced you to call a variety of your ex-girlfriends and other friends and family members for consultation on how you should “manage me.” I’m sorry that you’re the first person to EVER have an issue with my supposed inattentiveness. I’m sorry it gave you another fault to pick on.

I’m sorry that you couldn’t stop calling your ex-girlfriends, friends, colleagues, family members, your hair stylist, the cashier at Walgreens, the guy at the stop light next to you, etc. to analyze all faults you found with me bit by bit.

clueless like

Like, I’m seriously like not sorry.

I’m sorry I said the word “like” too much. That made you really mad, didn’t it?

I’m sorry being a slacker on changing my car oil led you to believe that I can’t “handle life management.” I’m also sorry that it forced you to ignore me and treat me like total shit for two days. An oil change. I believe you said something like, “How can you handle raising a child if you can’t remember to get your oil changed?” I don’t know – why don’t you ask every woman ever?

I’m sorry about that time I was ten minutes late. Although 8 minutes was due to being stuck by a slow-moving train on West 117th, I suppose I should have figured out a way to get around it. I mean, 10 minutes late! I’m surprised you only shunned me for (another) two days about that one. I can’t imagine how enraged you would’ve been if we actually had to be somewhere that night besides the couch at your condo.

I'm not sorry ex boyfriend letter

(Really, I”m not sorry)

I’m sorry about that time I was ten minutes late again. At least that time you sulked in your car and waited impatiently for me in the parking lot.

I’m sorry that I didn’t offer to pay for my half of dinner on date nights. Even though your salary was assumingly 4 times higher than mine, our once-a-week dinner dates to inexpensive restaurants must have put a serious strain on your finances. (And by the way, I was getting cash together for our ‘trip.’ I just wasn’t about to offer any to you until we actually embarked on our vacation. Come on, I knew we weren’t going to last.)

I’m sorry that I’m not a doctor or lawyer. You made it very clear that my career in marketing wasn’t good enough for you since I’d never earn enough money to make a strong ‘financial contribution to our relationship.’ I mean, what good is a SEO/marketing person to a man starting his own law practice? What benefits could I have possibly brought to the table on that?

I’m sorry about your mole problem. Seriously, what was with that? There had to be at least a thousand of them covering your body. And you really should’ve warned me that one time I thought I was playing with your nipple, that it wasn’t actually your nipple, but one of your grotesque moles. They were different colors too! Have you considered applying to the Guinness Book of World Records for your moles? Is that book even still around?

naked mole rat

I’m sorry that I didn’t laugh at your attempt at humor. You assumed that I wasn’t paying attention (oh, my ADD strikes again). I was. It’s just that the 10 one-liners you have in constant rotation weren’t funny the first time and they weren’t funny the fiftieth time. And quit it with the “over the pants handie” saying. It’s not funny. It’s creepy.

I’m sorry that you couldn’t stop discussing your ex-girlfriends. And all the talk about your sexual history with them? I promise I didn’t need to know every specific detail! Especially right before we were about to have sex. I can reenact precisely how a previous ex behaved in bed with you, yet I don’t even know a single one of their names. You never once said a name.

I’m sorry to tell you that your penis size isn’t average as you claim. The reason the condoms kept falling off wasn’t because my vagina is tight (but thanks for the compliment), but rather because the condoms were too roomy for your package. Maybe that’s why your ex-girlfriends never wanted to have sex with you? (Your words, not mine.)

I’m sorry that I spent too much time on my hair.

I’m sorry that I never knew why you were mad at me. Was I breathing too much? Was I looking in the wrong direction? Did I say “like” too much again? Sit on the wrong side of the couch? Take a minute too long in the bathroom? I never knew!

Not sorry

(I’m not sorry)

I’m sorry that time with me cut into the time you’d ordinarily spend trolling Facebook and baiting  almost- strangers with  attention-seeking posts. Was it necessary to create paragraph-long updates each time you did something for someone? Besides, why talk to me when you can stalk your ex-girlfriends or read posts by people you haven’t talked to in ten years discussing their recent trip to Target?

I’m sorry that you think I didn’t appreciate anything you did. I appreciated everything – however my gratitude was quickly overshadowed by your relentless criticism and the fact that you found fault in every single thing about me.

I’m sorry that I wasted a month and a half of my time with you.

Actually, come to think of it…. I’m not sorry for anything but that last one. You’re a pompous prick and I sincerely hope you choke on your next kale smoothie and vegan cous-cous plate.  Like, seriously you’re an asshole.

Best regards,


P.S. Are you sure you’re not gay? You’re awfully feminine and your shorts are too short.

Single After Thirty: 15 Reasons it’s Not Totally Terrible

26 Mar

Single after 30? The internet is flooded with instructions to embrace your single status, how to love yourself and shitty advice imploring you to change your ways – or else. Fuck ‘em.

stupid mom quotes

Not funny. At all. Period.

Being single in your twenties was fun. Then, one day you wake up and realize everyone got hitched. The drunk party photos that once clogged your Facebook feed have been replaced by copious amounts of ultrasound pics and shares of “parenting humor” images.

You feel out of the loop. And you probably are. But that’s okay. Being single after 30  doesn’t mean you’re a social degenerate. I mean, have you seen some of the people who get married?! Some are certifiably crazy. Others are downright repulsive. But… they got lucky. And.. you haven’t been lucky yet. On that note, here’s a few reasons I found to quit bemoaning your single status (and mine too).

15 Reasons to Not Hate Being Single After Thirty

1. Can go out with my guy friends whenever. Plus, I can vacation with my guy friends. No questions asked.
2. Lounging on the sofa in my stained & tattered sweatpants, no bra and my hair in one giant knot – for as long as I choose.
3. Not required to shave every day. And never having to shave another’s back hair.
4. My friends are more fun. Plus, I don’t feel obligated to invite my guy along and try to fill him in on the inside jokes we’ve had for over 10 years.
5. I don’t have to attempt to hide the existence of this dating blog.
6. No boyfriend begging for a blow job when I’m on the heaviest day of my period.
7. I like hanging out with myself.
8. Not being woken up each time my guy gets out of bed to take a piss, drink water, etc. No worrying whether or not I was snoring. No snoring keeping me up.
9. Dating is providing plethora of writing material. More than I could have ever fathomed.
10. I’m not forced to listen to anyone else’s shitty music choices. (Seriously, how can the Goo Goo Dolls be your favorite band?)
11. Not sharing the couch. And not having to watch sports updates while sharing the couch.
12. No arguing over the thermostat setting.
13. No one tying up the bathroom taking a 30 minute shit when I need to do my hair, brush my teeth, etc.
14. Opportunity. Being single leaves you open to ANYTHING. You have the freedom to do whatever without the tether of another. Whether its traveling abroad, moving to LA to pursue a writing career or taking up sky-diving – you can do it. Besides, you never know when you’ll meet ‘the one.’ Better to be single when that happens than trapped in a sub-par relationship.
15. You’ve experienced a ton – so when the time comes to settle down you’ll be ready. Especially if you’ve dabbled in online dating – then you’ll REALLY be ready.

Curb Your Enthusiasm Dating Quote

Sure, I’d love to stumble upon a great guy, fall in love & share a life together. I can’t force it. I can only hope I’m fortunate enough to meet someone and live out the whole “happily ever after” ending. Until then – life as a thirty-something single isn’t too horrible. Besides, the grass is always greener on the other side.. until you get there.

Fuck You Valentine’s Day – I Hate Dating

14 Feb

I’m 31, single and a dating blogger…. And I totally forgot Valentine’s Day was this week. Between work, dating, starting a book and my new-found addiction to the Walking Dead series (I’m always late to the party….) I had no idea it was almost here.

I’ve been so distracted that Valentine’s Day could’ve passed and I’d have been none the wiser. Readers of my dating blog would’ve missed out on an obligatory angst-ridden “I Hate Valentine’s Day” post had it not been for a certain guy in my life. He’s pretty… swell.

My ignorance was bliss. Until Monday night.

I hate valentines day

Even though I said no more dating lawyers, I continue to do so. They find me. I continue to give them chances. It never works out. Mostly because they fail to maintain a decent façade and I realize they’re a total asshole after a few dates. (Definition of insanity, I get it.)

I was set to embark on date #5 with this lawyer. I’ve been hesitant about him because his actions (out late every single night, has multiple ‘guys nights’ every week….) don’t say “I want to settle down.” He’s divorced, so it seems like he’s determined to make up for lost time. However, I genuinely enjoyed his company and our personalities mesh, so I wanted to be certain before I regrettably cast him out of the rotation (also known as – move on because in a week or two he’ll be onto the next big thing)

Last weekend we made plans for this Thursday (HE picked the day). Neither of us aware that it was Valentine’s Day.

valentines day fuck off

Monday night I receive a text from him around 1am (I’m a slight insomniac). The text read “Good night.” I was up watching Walking Dead on Netflix so I politely answered, “Good night to you too.” I thought he was just making a nice gesture. The rest goes as followed:

Lawyer: We are going out on vday….

Me: That’s funny. I totally didn’t realize it was Valentines Day.
(100 percent true – I actually wanted to spend Valentines Day with my best friend because that would’ve been fun and not subject to unnecessary awkwardness)

Lawyer:  Ok. So here’s how I see it. Neither of us knew. So let’s not infer anything. But let’s also not infer that either of us are being dicks.

Me:  Why would either of us be a dick?

Lawyer: I don’t know….

Lawyer:  Damn. I hate dating.

Me:  Considering Valentines Day wasn’t even on my radar, I don’t believe either of us inferred anything.

Lawyer:  Good. I’ll still plan a nice night.

Gee, thanks. Is it wrong to feel insulted? I did.

I wouldn’t have inferred anything because we’re still getting to know each other. The notion that he felt compelled to send that text and couldn’t just leave well enough alone lets me infer a few things…

And he’s the one who hates dating? But it gets better.

I was debating whether or not to cancel, but he made the decision for me on Wednesday (the day before Valentines Day).  He claimed he’s bogged down with work and we need to reschedule.I promise you, he’s not ‘working late.’

Hey asshole – you just left me hanging on Valentine’s Day. Well, now I definitely ‘infer’ something – you’re an ass.

In other news, according to my vagina is worth $257 on Valentine’s Day. The price is based on the level of commitment and a single vagina is worth the most. If you’re a single woman on Valentine’s Day, your date should fork over $257 to get laid. Committed vaginas must settle for $180. I’m not making this shit up. I guess that means as far as Valentine’s Day is concerned, my vagina is worthless.

How to Deal With a Cheating Boyfriend

18 Dec

Silence speaks louder than words. When I told my cheating boyfriend Bruce to never contact me again, I meant it. He’s tried getting in touch multiple times to apologize and to say he misses me. I give him nothing but silence. As far as I’m concerned there is nothing more to say. He cheated. Game over.

Every ounce of me wants to tell him what a piece of sick trash he is. How his life is something straight out of an episode of Jerry Springer. Remind him that one day karma will return the favor. Yet, I say nothing. Why? Whether it’s negative or positive, he just wants something. I refuse to give him anything. Issuing the most hateful response still presents him an opportunity to further communicate. He doesn’t deserve that. He deserves nothing. Cheaters deserve nothing.

Besides, silence totally drives people crazy.


Online Dating Delights – Seeing your ex boyfriend on

6 May

Sometimes finds you match, who according to them is “Singled Out Just For You!” They highlight the profile on a special full page spread so you’re certain to take notice.

The other morning, “Singled Out” my ex Sam just for me. Thanks Seriously, is there anything worse than seeing a recent ex on an online dating site? As if the Cleveland dating profiles I’m forced to dredge through aren’t upsetting enough!

I’m not going to lie – when he sprung up and filled my screen, my stomach plunged. His profile picture (which doesn’t illustrate the fact that he is severely balding at an alarming rate) was not what I expected to see as I innocuously sipped my morning coffee. I felt like throwing up.

Even better, won’t allow users to block a match from the “Singled Out” page. I was forced to search for his profile AGAIN to permanently remove him from potential matches. You know, because that was exactly how I wanted to spend a quiet Saturday morning.

Watch out Cleveland women – this deceitful two-faced Cleveland single man is on the prowl once more. dating a liar

Inspiring Blogger Award – Find some of the best bloggers right here

31 Mar

I’ve been nominated for blog awards here and there – and I know for sure I haven’t gotten to all of them. If I wasn’t able to get to your blog award, please know I appreciate the honor very much. I’m so thankful that you’ve enjoyed my Cleveland dating blog. When I first started this dating blog, I wasn’t sure anyone would read this.

best bloggers

Here are the rules of this blog award:
1. Thank the person who nominated you.
I was nominated for the Most Inspiring Blogger award by Cadence at Search 4 a Soul Mate. If you are unfamiliar with her honest and insightful dating blog, please pay it a visit! Anyone who has ever navigated the lousy dating scene after 30 will relate. Especially this post about changing your Facebook Relationship Status post-breakup. Been there!

2. Share seven things about yourself
1. I can never find anything. It takes me an extra 20 minutes to leave the house because I can’t find my keys, wallet, etc. I get frustrated if those around me don’t join in the search.
2. I struggle to walk in heels. I’ve practiced and practiced but cannot master the technique. I think I’m missing a girl gene somewhere.
3. I’m convinced everything is better if you add goat cheese.
4. When stuck with groups of people I don’t care for, I will deliberately say things to make everyone uncomfortable. It amuses me.
5. I have ADHD. When nervous, I become extremely hyper and talk non-stop at unimaginable speeds to where people can’t keep up or understand. This can prove embarrassing.
6. My drink of choice is Bacardi and Diet.
7. I can’t dance.

3. Pass the award to seven inspiring bloggers

I’m sure the bloggers and dating bloggers I’ve nominated have received numerous awards, so don’t feel obligated to do the whole blog award song and dance if you don’t have time. Just know your blogs are awesome and totally worth the Inspiring Blogger Award:

Story of Alice
Snarky Snatch
Old Black Magic.CLE
Sips of Jen and Tonic
Word Play

What do you mean the G-spot doesn’t exist?

31 Jan

Ladies, the joke is on us. Some of us at least.

When it comes to sex, women kinda get the shaft. Literally and figuratively. I’m no anatomy expert and can’t fathom what it feels like to have a penis, but from what I’ve read the sensation a guy experiences is similar to what a woman feels in her clitoris.

A woman’s biggest pleasure zone is smaller than a thimble while a man’s is well, clearly much, much larger with the same sensation. They get a banana, we get a pea. It isn’t right. Yes, clitoral orgasms are amazing… but the feeling has got to be magnified with a larger body part.

size of a woman's clitoris

They get a banana... We get a pea.

Next, the illusive G-spot. Instructions on how to locate the damn thing could be found in almost every monthly issue of Cosmo, Glamour or some other shitty woman’s magazine. According to any porn movie, any men’s or women’s magazine and even most books you read, all women experience these epic orgasms during intercourse once the G-spot is found. There’s tips everywhere about how to locate the G-spot which is supposedly an inch up on the top vaginal wall. Not finding it led me to A) feel like a failure and B) curse my vagina out regularly for being so incompetent.

I’ve worked to attain these mind-blowing orgasms through this misleading little fucker known as the G-spot. I’ll admit, there’s something being hit up there that feels really damn good, especially when you mimic the positions that supposedly hit the G-spot. Have I ever felt a larger-than-life orgasm through intercourse alone? No. Did I often feel like my body was defective because it wasn’t happening? Yes. And believe me, it usually wasn’t the guys fault….

I can’t say I was surprised that new research has confirmed the G-spot doesn’t exist. Apparently a team of Israeli and American researchers went through 60 years of evidence and 96 studies. They even conducted tissue biopsies and ultrasounds. No G-spot. So all this time, I’ve been fed bull shit about this Holy Grail of sex, only to learn it never existed in the first place. Seriously?

female orgasm

It's good for me, but is it REALLY better for the guy??

Are you one of those women who can’t reach orgasm through intercourse? I am. All these years I thought I was born with a malfunctioning vagina, but I was wrong. Evidence proves that women with thicker tissue in the G-spot area reported having orgasms through penetration. The thicker the tissue, the more sensitive the area. Women who have never reached orgasm through intercourse had thinner tissue in the same area and weren’t nearly as sensitive. Clearly, I’m the latter. And you know what, that’s nice to finally know. I wonder if tissue gets thicker with age……

On the bright side, I’m not sporting a sub-par vagina. I am annoyed that because of my flimsy-ass vaginal tissue, I’m restricted to only experiencing orgasm via my little nub of a clitoris. Which is fine, but a second option would’ve been appreciated.

Some doctor needs to start performing vaginal tissue thickening surgery. For real.

Not a shitty Christmas gift

27 Dec

Sam bought me these cute heart-shaped earrings from Tiffany’s for Christmas. No complaints here. I appreciate the fact that he got me more of a “romantic” gift like jewelry, but it’s also sweet that they are hearts.

I like Sam.

I’m quite content. This Christmas wasn’t so bad after all.





Meeting the parents

5 Dec

Already that time? I’m due to meet Sam’s parents (and entire family) in two weeks. I woke up to a text on Sunday morning inviting me to his parent’s Christmas party. While it may be a tad soon, I still find it cute that he wants to introduce me to the family. It affirms he’s into me as much as I am him. We’ve only been on four dates, but it feels like more. That counts for something. I like where things are heading. I’m not about to bore anyone by babbling on about how amazing he is, but so far he’s pretty damn great.

Anyhow… apparently there is going to be kids at this party because he mentioned that we have to go shopping at Target for them beforehand.

Only problem is – I’m terrible with kids. God fucking awful with kids. Kids see me and immediately run the other way because my disdain for them is evident. I scare them. They scare me. I’ve never been a mushy, gushy, cutesy kind of girl and have difficulty interacting with anyone under the age of 13. Kids just don’t do it for me.

There’s a reason I’m a licensed high school teacher and not an elementary teacher. (Bet you didn’t guess that I was/ am supposed to be an English teacher…) I teach/taught teenagers because I loathe little children. I don’t want to play with them. I don’t want their dirty hands touching me. I can’t stand their high-pitched squealing. Kids and I do not mix. Once they are over 13, I don’t mind them anymore. You can have a normal discussion with them that doesn’t focus around the latest episode of Dora the Explorer.

Ewww. Kids.

Do I want kids of my own? Someday. I’ll probably love my kids (I hope so). It’s just I don’t enjoy being bothered with other people’s kids. My reaction is ugly and virtually impossible to hide. I don’t think this is necessarily abnormal… my dad is the same way, but he’s an awesome father. He always reminds me that it will be “different when they are mine.”

When it comes to meeting the children in the family, I’ll be putting on the performance of my lifetime. Seriously, I might have to throw a ball to them (and not at them), dress up a doll or participate in some form of unsavory playtime activity. Sam doesn’t need to realize my contempt for little ones so soon in our relationship. It could turn him off. I must pretend to thoroughly enjoy the “tiny darlings.”

His parents, on the other hand, I’m not so worried about. I’m nervous, but I’m sure I’ll do better than I will with a three year old snot-laden child.

I say this now, but I’m going to be a nervous wreck when facing the folks in two weeks.


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