Tag Archives: Cleveland dating

Leveraging an Online Dating Success Story. Maybe. Sort Of.

4 Apr

Welcome to another installment of Stupid Shit Guys Do to (Hopefully) Get Sex

My recent date may have looked like Patrick Dempsey, but Mr. McDreamy he was not.

McDreamy Not

Return to Dating 101 – if a man repeatedly claims to to be a “hopeless romantic,” he’s not. McNotDreamy never missed an opportunity to inform me about his romantic tendencies.  According to him, he’s an “old-fashioned romantic” type of guy.  I wouldn’t be surprised if it’s thoroughly expressed on his online dating profile. (Ladies – if you see this in a profile. Never get your hopes up.)

I can repeatedly tell you that I’m Kim Kardashian. It doesn’t make it true.

Despite a lack of wine and roses, McNotDreamy had a riveting story that he liked to recount (over and over again)…. Once upon a time he knew a guy who recently encountered a bout of good dating luck on Match.com.

texts from match2

On top of excessively communicating his supposed romantic tendencies, NotMcDreamy really enjoyed repeating a story about his friend who recently found the woman of his dreams on Match.com. So much, that his buddy’s tale of online dating love came up in nearly every conversation. Whether it was via text, phone call or during dinner, he never failed to mention the fact that his friend fell in love with a girl from Match.com. Sometimes an “I can only hope to be so lucky” was added for good measure. The more he told the story, the more I got the feeling something was off.

text from match1

Take the online dating success story and combine it with the absence of romantic tendencies. Toss in his claim to be a huge dog lover with his refusal to pet or even acknowledge my dog… and it equals bull shit. Creative, yet ineffective bull shit.

I firmly believe he deserves a few points for originality. This is the first man who tried to crank up the charm with a non-stop reiteration of a friend’s online dating love story.

texts from match3

On the fourth (and final) date, McNotDreamy sat beside me on the couch and proceeded to text other women. He deliberately tilted the phone so I couldn’t see the screen when he’d receive the messages. Because that wasn’t obvious or anything… (And I could still see!)

Of course, the multiple females blowing up his phone didn’t stop him from trying to hump me.

I, on the other hand, did.

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Dating a Cheap Man: Number One Cause of Vaginal Dryness

11 Feb

“Tell me more about the money you saved by not eating in restaurants. It’s really getting me hot,” SAID NO WOMAN EVER.

Seriously guys – don’t be cheap. Before you ask a woman on a date, loosen that death grip on your wallet and PLEASE, PLEASE don’t brag about your frugal lifestyle. Believe me, we are not impressed.

So… I went on a date with this Match.com guy, let’s just call him El Cheapo (it’s more fitting than anything else). Allow me to preface this story by telling you that El Cheapo is a medical device sales rep who makes close to six-figures. Cheap has nothing to do with income level and everything to do with a fatal personality flaw. Cheap = undateable. Cheap boyfriend

El Cheapo called the night before and suggested we meet at the Greenhouse Tavern. For any non-Clevelanders reading this, the Greenhouse Tavern is one of the top restaurants in Cleveland. You can’t NOT eat at Greenhouse Tavern. Well, unless you’re El Cheapo. I don’t think he was planning on dinner.

If he just wanted to meet for a drink, he could’ve suggested more bar and less restaurant. Selecting one of the best restaurants in Cleveland and expecting me to sit there and watch everyone else chow down is cruel and unusual punishment. I wasn’t having it, so I took the reins and insisted we get a table because I was hungry.

He tried to change his tune, “Wow. I’m kind of relieved that you’re hungry. I just planned to sit at the bar. But we can eat.”

Damn right we’re eating. I tried to give him the benefit of the doubt. Maybe he wasn’t cheap. Maybe the cheap vibe he was exuding was totally my head. It wasn’t.

On top of suggesting that I get the cheapest entrée on the menu (burger), El Cheapo spent a hefty chunk of time discussing his finances and his rapidly growing bank account. And let me tell you, he’s very proud of his bloated savings account. He told me that more than once.

cheap ass

Does this turn you on?

“I’m the most frugal guy I know,” he boasted. “Every month I set a budget for how much I can spend on entertainment. If I go over my budget, I have to lay low the next month.” He continued to brag about his fiscally conservative ways and how he managed to teach his sisters to cut corners and they now save an additional $500 per month.

Oh, he also told a riveting story involving a bad date at a wine festival. I’m not sure what else happened on his ‘bad date story,’ but I do know that the tickets cost $50 each. He mentioned that like ten times.

When I first laid eyes on El Cheapo, I wondered why he was single. The man is extremely tall, attractive, and intelligent with a good job. But wow, he’s a miserly fellow! Financial responsibility is good, but when penny-pinching dominates a first date conversation – there’s a huge problem.

El Cheapo doesn’t have his own place at 35. He lives with his cousin in a 2 bedroom apartment (not even a house) because it “saves so much money.”

Surprisingly El Cheapo willingly paid for dinner. (Note: I purposely didn’t select an expensive entrée and ordered only one drink, so it wasn’t an expensive tab. I didn’t want it to be. I was turned off and just wanted to leave.)

Our date occurred on a 20-degree night with wicked wind gusts. The sidewalks were covered by a lovely sheet of ice and where does he park? Over by West 6th somewhere because he didn’t want to pay higher rates due to the Cavs game. I paid $10 bucks to park a block away – which is nothing. How much money could he have possibly saved?? A broken leg due to falling on ice during his long trek back could cost him much more.

Frugal menGuys, you need not be rich. Just don’t be so prudent with your cash that it’s impractical. Thriftiness does not get our juices flowing. El Cheapo was incredibly attractive, yet I’ve never been so turned off.

He asked me on a second date, but I must decline. I don’t care to hear anymore about his adventures in frugality. (Seriously, what guy brags about his cheapness on a first date?)

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Want to Impress a Woman? It’s Simple

3 Feb

Online dating can certainly wear a girl out. This time I’m taking it easy… or at least trying to. This means staying off of Match.com for weeks at a time and letting the current crop of men weed themselves out. Normally, there’s a fatal flaw in each of them (or they weed me out) so the elimination process moves along fairly smoothly.

So far, one guy hasn’t weeded himself out. He was the first man I went out with upon my fateful return to Match.com. He isn’t my typical type – a tad nerdy, much quieter than my usual boisterous jerky breed and he’s also way smarter than I am. Believe me, I’m not dumb by any means, his intelligence level happens to be much higher.

I love olives

He won me over on the third date. How? He gave me the olives out of his martini.

Sounds silly, right? I’m excited over a couple of olives. Did I mention they were stuffed with bleu cheese? Really, is there anything better than a salty, juicy olive packed with sharp bleu cheese? There isn’t.

I fucking love olives. Adore them to the point where I’ll sit in front of my television with a jar of olives and a fork and go to town. Certain times of the month I’m overcome with an insatiable craving for salt. Olives satisfy this. The other week Giant Eagle had jars of olives on sale for $1 each. I won’t mention how many jars were purchased, but let’s just say I’m set on olives for quite some time.

bleu cheese olives

Orgasmic.

Back to the doctor and his keen ability to woo me with olives. During dinner, he ordered a dirty martini and immediately asks if I’d like his olives. Of course I took one, but insisted that he eat the other. He admitted to enjoying olives, but noted that he ordered the dirty because he knows my bizarre fondness for olives, so he wanted to give them to me. I couldn’t argue. I’ve since learned he’s an olive lover as well – which makes the gesture even sweeter.

The next afternoon, I was scrounging around the fridge for olives (a normal routine). As I popped the jar and stuck a fork in one, I remembered his olive offering from previous night. Made me smile all over again. Willingly handing over your blue cheese stuffed olives is a mighty sacrifice. I guess that means he’s worth keeping around?

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Texts From a Cheating Boyfriend – While He’s Cheating

22 Dec

When it comes to a cheating boyfriend, if you feel something isn’t right… it probably isn’t.

The night Bruce cheated we were supposed to have been together (we always were together). I got ready, waited around and he ultimately stood me up. It wasn’t like him.

One thing to note about our relationship, we were always either in contact or together. If he didn’t hear from me for a little bit, he’d always reach out and vice versa. We both always answered texts right away no matter what. Always.

His text messages from that night were downright cold and bizarre. I felt like I was talking with a stranger.

I saved the lovely text messages from my cheating boyfriend (sent while he was cheating!) because they were too creepy not to keep around. When I date someone else and find myself becoming upset over something stupid, I can simply look back to this dating blog post to put everything into perspective.

On that note, enjoy the odd texts from my cheating (ex) boyfriend.

Text message from a cheating boyfriend

Another text from my cheating boyfriend

My cheating boyfriend needed tonight

He really “needed tonight.” So much that he said it twice. Eww.

Texts from a cheater

He wasn’t sorry until he got caught later that afternoon.

 

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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.

quiet

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Once a cheater, Always a cheater.

10 Dec

My boyfriend cheated on me.

On Friday, Bruce proclaimed he needed a “guys night.” I wasn’t aware that “guys night” involved getting unbelievably hammered and taking a 45-year-old bar hag home to fuck her in the same bed that we shared almost every fucking night.  She isn’t even remotely pretty. Just trailer trash. By the way, Bruce is 32.  It was a one-night stand with a filthy hag that he couldn’t have cared less about. He was extremely intoxicated and took this dirty bartender Michele back to his place.

My brain won’t shut off. I can’t stop envisioning them together. He was MY boyfriend. God – he kissed her and touched her in the same way he kissed and touched me. He fingered her…. stuck his dick inside her. All the while, I was sitting there and waiting for him to come home. Even after a guys night, I would’ve headed to his place to sleep next to him. We never slept apart unless he was traveling for work. Friday night was the first time, but only one of us slept alone.

The thought of him with another woman makes me want to vomit. I can’t eat. I’ve already thrown up twice. It’s so surreal. cheating-boyfriend

It really makes me wonder how many other times this happened. He did it right under my nose. He traveled all the time for work. Imagine what he was doing in those other cities where I had no chance of finding out…. It’s so fucking sick. Sometimes random women (whom he never mentioned to me) would text him late at night. There were times he wouldn’t open the texts in front of me. He said they were just co-workers. I was a bit suspicious then and clearly I had a reason to be.

And it wasn’t like he wasn’t getting it at home – I ALWAYS want to have sex. I’m usually the one to initiate. I never once turned him down (because I’m usually horny). I’m an attractive person (guess you’ll have to take my word on that). For him to stick his penis inside this sleazy, dirty, ugly bar whore when he has me at home is unthinkable. I don’t understand and I never will. He’s a sick fuck.

He lives in my apartment complex, so I must make peace with the idea that I will see him in passing. Luckily his building is on the other end of the complex. However, after a betrayal like this – He is dead to me.

Cheating boyfriend

The last text I will ever send to this man.

There is nothing left to say. I will NEVER utter another word to this piece of shit scumbag for as long as I live. I tried so hard to make us work and he threw it all away for 60 seconds of intercourse with a dirty vagina (60 seconds is pushing it. He never lasted very long in bed). That’s all she was to him – a vagina. She looks like she’d smell too.

I’m devastated. We were ALWAYS together. We were entirely intertwined in each other’s lives. Now it’s over – just like that… completely blindsided.

Admittedly, we were having some major issues (mostly he was acting like a cold-hearted asshole more often than not) and a future break-up was seemingly inevitable. But I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t let go. I wanted it to work so badly. Mostly because I was afraid to be alone again. Maybe this is the kick in the ass I needed to move on with my life. He wasn’t good for me, but I kept trying, and trying, and trying. He took me for granted every single day – and I knew it. I wasn’t happy, but I stayed.

He hasn’t looked me in the eyes for weeks.  Leads me to believe last Friday night wasn’t the first time.

It’s over. Adjusting to day-to-day life without him won’t be easy since we were always together. But – this too shall pass. I will never second-guess our break-up. For me, there is no guilt, no remorse and no questions. There is only certainty and hate. Two things that will make it easier to move forward with my life.

I can’t help but feel that life (or fate…) did me an enormous favor. In the long run, this is the best thing that could’ve happened. I can finally move on without wondering “what if?”. There’s no reason to look back. Even with this seething hatred flowing through my veins, I feel oddly free.

It’s over.

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LA Fitness and my ex-boyfriends who work out there

14 Nov

There’s at least 5 of them there.

Excuses for not frequenting the gym? I have a zillion. I have to force myself into that torture factory, watch the minutes tick by until I can get off the damn cardio machine and then sit on machines and repetitively count as I mindlessly lift weights. Combine that with my recent folliculitis outbreak (I blame Urban Active/LA Fitness entirely) and I can probably craft a unique excuse everyday for the next few years.

If I want to keep my weight down this winter, I have to return to those 3 floors of misery known as Urban Active… or maybe it’s LA Fitness now. What the hell is the Crocker Park gym now anyway?

Cleveland isn’t a small city, but it’s no Chicago or NYC either. It’s fairly easy to run into an ex while out and about, but I miraculously avoid these uncomfortable encounters most of the time. Considering my dating history, this is no small feat. (Note – I said “dated,” not slept with)

Not what I look like at the gym

Problem being, my gym is a relatively popular one on Cleveland’s West Side. Numerous men that I’ve dated frequent it on a regular basis. No joke, I can count at least 5 that I’m certain have a membership. And what worse place to run into my dumpers and dumpees than the gym? If I must engage in an awkward stop and chat with an ex, I’d at least like to do it when I know I look good. At the gym, I look like total shit.

In addition to the fact that I’m sweaty, stinky and grunting in an unattractive manner, I’m also struggling for breath after the first ten minutes of cardio. Half the time I can’t figure out how to use a machine and wind up looking like an asshole. Indeed, I’m a workout novice wearing no make-up, messy hair or a ball cap, and my boobs look dreadful in a sports bra (although I have started wearing semi-push up bras under my sports bra, which helps a ton). Why people suggest the gym is a great place to meet men is beyond me. I certainly don’t have the confidence to approach anyone while working out.
Paul Ryan at the gym

I’ve made it my goal to attend the gym on a somewhat regular basis this winter. I’m going to run into my ex boyfriends while looking slightly better than I do when I wake up in the morning. Yes, it will be awkward and it will suck. However, I guess running into ex boyfriends while looking mildly gross at the gym is preferable to running into them at a bar after gaining 20 pounds from avoiding the gym.

The joys of dating in Cleveland.

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Hairy Legs and Relationship Woes

12 Oct

Maybe it’s me. Maybe it’s my boyfriend. Maybe it’s my temporary leg hair. Could be my PMS. I don’t know. Whatever it is – relationship doubts are upon me tonight.

It’s tough dating after 30. I’m well aware that things are all sliding downhill. Every passing day is another one closer to additional gray hairs, well defined wrinkles and increasingly flaccid body parts. Each fleeting 24-hour period serves as a crude reminder that a) I’m not getting any younger, b) Meeting men becomes harder with age and c) I’m not married. There’s no marriage in sight. The risk of dying alone in an apartment full of mangy dogs keeps escalating. It’s absolutely fabulous.

Back to how hairy legs wrecked my night. A few weeks ago, I somehow contracted folliculitis – perhaps from touching gym equipment at Urban Active or soaking in the pool at our Vegas hotel. I don’t know, but it’s not very sexy. While on antibiotics, I’m forbidden to shave. Doctor’s orders. No razors for 7 days. Period.

My boyfriend travels for work M-F (and it certainly blows) and returned home for a whole whopping hour this evening before trekking off to Pittsburgh for the night. En route to Cleveland, he sent me a text about how he couldn’t wait to get it on when he arrived.

“Just to warn you – I’m furry.” I responded. (I’m honest, what can I say?

“How furry?”

“Four days furry. I can’t help it. The doctor said I can’t shave, remember? But I’m ok with it if you are (insert smiley face)”

“Hmmmmm….”

He promptly changed the subject and made no move whatsoever during his hour or two back in Cleveland. I stopped over. He ironed a few shirts. We sipped coffee.  That was that.

The skin infection I’ve sported for the past two weeks never stopped him, but leg & crotch stubble is taking it way too far?  Was I so wrong to assume we were comfortable enough in our relationship that 3.5 days sans razor was no big deal?  I thought we were well beyond this. It worries me that we aren’t.

Hairy legs, hairy armpits and hairy vaginas are slightly unappetizing… I get it. Come Monday, my body hair and (hopefully) pimply looking skin infection will be a thing of the past. My uncertainty… well that’s another story.

hairy legs

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Psychopath Dating – Neil Diamond, Nerf Guns & Nudes

28 Jul

As you know, I have a habit of dating psychotic freak shows.

I planned to craft this dating blog post about my ex Sam, another Cleveland dating disaster, for quite some time. However, the tale is so disturbingly fucked up, yet funny, yet sad… I couldn’t fathom how to put this revolting mess into words. I still don’t kow. But here we go…

dating a psychopath, dating a sociopath American Psycho

I found the American Psycho on Match.com

Sam had all the signature traits of a psychopath. The first dating red flag that our relationship was doomed? A giant framed movie poster of “American Psycho” is the first thing I saw when I  entered his apartment. It’s in the main hallway next to the front door and impossible to miss. He was grossly infatuated with the film. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a great movie, but his fixation was a bit over the top.

American Psycho aside. I had been dating Sam for two months or so when the following incident occurred. I found out about it later on. I’m still disturbed… mostly because I didn’t dump him immediately.

Sam’s douchebag college buddies were in town for the 2011 holiday season. He had an insatiable urge to impress these guys, so he hired a prostitute to come over and entertain them. I mean, what better way to flaunt your success than with a seedy prostitute? Perhaps it was a stripper, but he used the term “prostitute” to describe her multiple times, so let’s go with prostitute.

Did they make her perform a strip tease? Have sex with them (not that I know of at least….)? Masturbate in front of them? No.

prostitute hooker

Sam bought these colossal Nerf guns for his nephews for Christmas. (Mind you, he bought these while on a shopping outing with me) Apparently, he wanted to give them a trial run on a prostitute. Sam ordered the prostitute to go into his room, undress and wait. He cued up “Coming to America” by Neil Diamond for her grand entrance.

Sam and his buddies proceeded to shoot her with Nerf guns to the tune of “Coming to America” on repeat. When they finished a round, she had to pick up the Nerf pellets and return them so they could continue their game.

I was floored. He seemed sincerely proud of himself for causing this woman total hNeil Diamond concertumiliation. Even as he fessed up, he was cracking up with laughter. It was sick. A strip club is one thing, but this?

One morning about a week later, I woke up to him listening to “Coming to America.” I wanted to vomit. I forced him to turn it off. I tried to write the prostitute ordeal off as no big deal, but I knew better. I couldn’t erase it from my mind. How can one person get off on the degradation of another? I still can’t listen to “Coming to America” without my stomach turning in complete disgust.

Thankfully, our “relationship” ended soon after.

My new relationship goal is simple – to not find a man whose inspiration stems from Christian Bale’s character in “American Psycho.”

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