Um, But No…Date Number 3


“You’re late,” I said.  “Again.”  I put my hand on my hip and gave him a glare.  It was a calculated glare: enough that I communicated that I was upset, but not so much that my face was all wrinkly.  I posed with my hand on my hip.  In my cute blue dress, I knew that I had to look pretty darn good, standing that way.

“It’s a big mall!” Doug said, looking away and smiling a nervous little smile.  “I went to the other side, then had to drive around.”  We were in a typical suburban mall.  Not the Dallas Galleria, not the Mall of America.  A typical.  Freakin.  Mall.

Excuses.  I hate excuses.  When I’m mad, I want someone to say, “I’m sorry.  It won’t happen again.”  That’s all, that’s it.  I’ll decompress and move on.  But ONLY if I hear both of those things, and ONLY if it’s sincere.

Doug wasn’t saying either.

AND it was the second time in a row that he’d been late.  AND the second time that he hadn’t apologized.  Last time, he was 22 minutes late.  This time, he was 10 minutes late.  That’s 32 minutes of my life spend waiting, that I won’t get back.

“Here,” I said, handing him a movie ticket.  I had invited him out and chosen the movie, so I didn’t mind paying.  But I did mind waiting.

“Oh, you bought my ticket!  When a girl buys, that means that she just wants to be friends!” he said.  He was teasing.

I was NOT in the mood to be teased.

“Um, you should be grateful!” I said.  “I wouldn’t buy your ticket if I didn’t like you.”

Doug ignored me and said to the ticket taker, “She bought my ticket.  That means just friends, right?”

The plump young movie theater employee smiled his fake smile and said, “Other women buy the tickets.  Why, just today, a woman slid her credit card to me, and ignored the guy who was trying to pay.”

Bless him for trying to be neutral.

I took a deep breath, determined to enjoy myself.  After all, we were seeing Ant-Man, a Marvel Comic Movie.  I LOVE comic book movies!!!

Even if I was with an ungrateful jerk.

Would it kill him to say, “thank you for the ticket”?!

Doug bought me a bottled water and himself a coke.  We settled into our seats and he held my hand.

Things were going fine until he picked up his coke, drank it for a while, then put his hand on my leg.  OMG HIS HANDS ARE F***ING ICE COLD!  WTFH!!!  I jumped and swatted his arm, pushing him away from me.

I didn’t hurt him.  I wish that I would have.

“Oh, I guess my hands are a little cold, huh?” he asked.  He put his hand to his face.

I definitely should have hurt him.  Bastard.

The movie was good, but… “That is so wrong!  The science wouldn’t work.  It…” I began.

“Comic book science!” Doug said, cutting me off.  “It’s comic book science.”

So much bubbled up inside me.  I wanted to tell him about attractive and repulsive forces, theories I learned from Professor Mercury and from other classes.  I wanted to talk about subatomic forces and what it would mean to shrink.  Since matter could neither be created nor destroyed, the matter would need to be released (most likely as heat) or the bonds would store a great amount of energy.

Doug wouldn’t hear any of it.  “At the race,” he continued.  “There weren’t any stops, like there were at the Hotter Than Hell…”

Geez, he was like one of those Cross Fit guys, who wouldn’t stop talking about Cross Fit.  I get that triathlons are a great achievement, but give it a rest!

“How was softball?” he asked.

Shocked, I almost dropped my water.  “Good,” I said.  “We won the first game by one point.  The second game, we started strong, but ended up losing.”

He went back to rambling about the triathlon as though I hadn’t spoken.

I blinked.  What just happened?  He didn’t ask any follow up questions or give me a minute to continue.  He didn’t ask me if I’d hit the ball or taken any bases.

He walked me to my car and we kissed good night.

Later, I called Gala Pear.  “I don’t think he’s Fuck Ya,” I said.

“That’s fine,” she said.  “I dated guys who seemed great, but I wasn’t into them, so I didn’t see them again.  You have an intuition, and that’s ok.”

“Why is it that I need permission to feel the way I do?” I asked.  Then I answered my own question.  “I’m afraid that I’m getting jaded.  I’m afraid that I’ll miss out on a good man.  But, I’m also afraid that I’ll end up married to a guy that I’m not super into.”  Like my ex-husband.  Or my other ex-husband.

“It’s okay that you aren’t into this guy,” Gala said.  “I get it.”

I love Gala!  She’s awesome.

When I finalized my divorce (the second one), I made a promise to myself that I wouldn’t get married again, unless I found the perfect guy.

That is, the Perfect Guy For Me.  I know that I’m not perfect, and I know that the Perfect Guy For Me will have quirks, too.

But I also think that I’d be miserable if I dated someone who wouldn’t listen to me rant about how the science in the movie wouldn’t work.  Hey, I paid good money to learn all about atomic radii and forces of attraction!  Let me ramble for a few minutes before you cut me off!

I bet Professor Mercury would be interested in debating the theoretical probability of the comic book science.  I would go even further to say that he’d likely discuss whether a giant ant would be possible, or whether the internal organs would collapse upon themselves from the weight.  Anthropoids don’t have bones, you know, so they rely on their exoskeletons to support their innards.

Then again, maybe the Prof would tell me that it’s a just a movie, too!


So, to recap, I want a guy who is athletic AND academic.

Sigh.  Maybe, just maybe, I want too much.

“You deserve more,” Gala told me.

God, I love my friends!  Especially Gala!

Now, how do I break up with a guy, who I’ve only gone out with three times?  And if I met him in person, would it be snippy of me to show up late?


Jules Rules

These are the dating rules that Doug broke:

  1. Be on time. Being on time shows respect for the other person.  After all, she could have chosen to spend time alone or with someone else; she chose to spend time with you.  Show your gratitude and respect by being punctual or early.
  2. If you can’t be on time, apologize.
  3. If you apologize, be sincere. The best way to do that, is to say that it won’t happen again.  Follow through is worth a million words; for every minute that you were late, be twice as early next time.
  4. Don’t put your blankety-blank cold hands on me.
  5. Even if I’m spouting science-y stuff that you don’t comprehend, let me ramble for at least a little while.  Keep in mind that I let you ramble about stuff that I don’t understand or care about (i.e. triathlons that I didn’t attend and/or family drama that I’m not part of).

Good luck, fellow daters!

Jaded Jules?

“I appreciate your concern and willingness to reach out.  I clearly have a lot to learn in the dating arena : – )  I wonder though if you may be missing some of the more important things, such as matters of the heart,” Brandon texted me.

Brandon had texted me this weekend to let me know that he was in town and to ask if I wanted to get together.  In response, I had texted him a link to “Thank You Bye Bye.”  In my defense, he had texted me a few times and I had ignored him.  I may have been a little drunk on Saturday night when he contacted me, so I went ahead and answered him with the blog about how our first date was our last.

Ya, not my smoothest moment.

To his credit, he took it well.  His answer was, “OMGoodness!!! Hahaha!!!!!!!! I’ve made your blog…freaking ridiculous and hilarious at the same time (smile, big smile, wink emoticons)…But I can take it!”

Wow.  That’s a good sport!

So I texted, “There are some other blogs that have online dating advice.  You’re a nice guy.  Good luck.”

And now, after he had read some of my other blogs, he was back with a text that very nicely insinuated that I might be heartless.

Or Jaded.

I’ve wondered that about myself, sometimes.  Wondered if I needed to hang up my spurs and retire my horse.  That is Texas speak for, “Maybe I should stop dating.”

In the immortal words of Foreigner, in one of the greatest rock songs ever written, “In my life there’s been heartache and pain.  I don’t know if I can face it again.  Can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far To change this lonely life.  I wanna know what love is…”

Ok, a less melodramatic answer would be that I’m not jaded at all.  I’m protecting myself, absolutely, because I do fall for guys way too easily.  That’s why I’ve been married twice and in three major long-term relationships.  (By “long-term” I mean over a year.)

Or I could have said that I’ve been extra sensitive since Zack Zuccini and I broke up last year.  Which was waaaaaay too soon after Sandy Oranges broke my heart.  We’re still friends, but I miss what we had.  Heart break sucks and I avoid it by looking for red flags.  Hell, Sandy broke so many of my rules, that I introduced him on the blog by calling a Rule Breaker!

I also could have told him that I read chick lit and watch romantic comedies like some people eat candy.  This weekend alone I watched 3 sappy rom coms.

But instead, I answered, “Thanks for your concern.  I’m a hopeless romantic and I fall in love way too easily.  That may not come across on my recent blogs.  But if you go back a year to Sandy or Zack, you’ll see what a sap what I am.”

He replied, “Haha!  Well thanks for sharing that…I unfortunately am the same way, which makes me pretty vulnerable…”

“I understand.  Dating is hard,” I said.

“Man it is! : – )” he agreed.

I take a deep breath.  Tonight will be my third date with Doug, and I asked him to see the movie Ant-Man with me.  Here I go again, risking my heart for the chance of true love.

Well, I’m going to see a movie, anyway.  ; – )


Random Online Dating Emails – The Good, The Bad, and One Date Wonders

Dressed up for a customer meeting.  This photo has nothing whatsoever to do with this post; I just like it.  Doug does, too; he made it my contact photo in his phone.

Dressed up for a customer meeting.  This photo has nothing whatsoever to do with this post; I just like it.  Doug does, too; he made it my contact photo in his phone.

Whew, another busy weekend on Match!  Since Doug was out of town, and we’ve only had two dates, I replied to a few emails.  Here are the best of the week.


This 51-year-old gentleman calls himself, “Frosty.”  I assume because he has white hair and not his personality!

Ok, I know I’m only 10 years younger, but he looks seriously OLD.  Gala made the remark (about another guy), “Jules, you wear your age better than some people.  He does NOT wear his well.”  Same comment refers to this guy, in my opinion.  If he looks like a Grandpa or Santa Claus, I don’t want to date him.  And this guy was definitely Grandpa material.

He wrote:

Hi, Jules,
We seem to have a few basics in common. (Comicon alone makes you stand out )
You’re cute. I liked your profile.
Seems pretty straight forward.
Want to get together some time?
Meet up for coffee or soft drinks somewhere?

Let me know. 

I responded with a polite email stating, “Thanks for your interest, but like you, I tend to date people younger than me.”  Translation: “I’m not interested.”  Unfortunately, saying anything to some people gives them false hope.

He returned with, “Hey Jules, Thanks for the response… The challenge for both of us seems to be that we both are still kids at heart and that others our age do not appreciate getting out and living life… Kayaking – YES, Museums – Awesome. Life music and the Texas State Fair – super duper. Hiking Turner Falls, Mt. Rainier or any other challenge that takes endurance and being in pretty good physical shape – woohoo!”  His email continued, “Most ladies my age have one foot in the grave already or are so overweight, lethargic or beat up by life, they just do not do fun anymore…. So yeah I try to date someone with the heart of a 30 year old… doesn’t mean she’s 30 per se.”

Hmmmm, is that supposed to convince me to date him?  He wrote “life” instead of “live;” the academic in me hates typos like that.  Then he mentioned the Texas State Fair and Turner Falls – two places not referenced in my profile.  But, hey, he’ll date me for a little while; until I’m not fun anymore.



A guy with the username, “Looks Good In Jeans,” winked at me, so I checked out his profile.  It said that he had published a book, so I used that as a conversation starter.  I didn’t try too hard with the email, since he had approached me.

“Hi there!  What’s your book about?  I have a book, too :-)” I wrote.

“Romance, lol” was his reply.

SERIOUSLY?!  He considers himself an author, and he sends one word and an acronym?!  He could at least use a complete sentence.

Then again, maybe his book sucks.

I tried again, “Be more specific: erotic fiction, historical romance, modern romance?  : – )”

He answered, “It is funny what people focus on are facinated about.  I know little about history….So what I focus on with regards to you :)”

Hmmm, a typo (“facinated” instead of “fascinated”) and he left out the word, “do” (“what do I focus on…).  More importantly, he side-stepped the question.  Why the hell would he mention his book in his profile, if he didn’t want to talk about it?!

I tried one last time to reach him.  “Just trying to have a conversation.  I wrote a book, too, but you didn’t ask what it was about—very curious.  I also think it’s curious that your profile requires an animal lover, but you contacted me, even though I list my allergies in my profile.  So what would you like to talk about, he-who-has-not-told-me-his-name?”

He answered, “WEll that is easy..i will be up in Frisco on Sunday around lunch time..i was hoping you might make me a nice lunch :)”

Sigh.  He still didn’t tell me his name, and didn’t respond to my comment about animals.

He may look good in jeans, but he sure doesn’t know how to hold a conversation.



The next bachelor, “Perhaps Tis You,” is 20 years older than me and lives in Arizona.  Even though he’s 61 years old, he looks younger than Frosty.  Maybe the pictures are old, or maybe he aged well.

His email stated, “Hi Jules my name is Barry it’s a pleasure to hear from you I know we do live a distance apart but your profile and your smile in your picture was more than nice it made me smile and I thought that was a pretty good sign Arizona is yes still here it’s still hot but within the next two weeks it will cool off 100% can’t wait made it through another summer day please don’t be a stranger I would love to get to know you”

OMG there was no punctuation.  I read through the paragraph without taking a breath, even though I was reading in my head.  I gasped for air when I was done.  I didn’t answer that email and so he sent me 5 more emails.

Um, first, he’s too old.  Women live longer than men; therefore, I’d rather have a younger man.

Aw, who am I kiddin’?  I just like younger men.  Period.  I don’t need a reason.

Second, he lives in another state.  There’s most of the state of Texas (9 hours drive or so), New Mexico, and part of Arizona between us.  Google says it’s a 15 hour drive; 16 if you want to avoid El Paso.  And trust me, you want to avoid El Paso.  16 hours is a bit over my one-hour-max rule.  Just a tad.

Third, five emails to my one?  Really?!

His last email was, “Hi I know with your great profile and your pretty pictures you have a lot of men trying to meet you I’m sure so keep me in mind have a great day”

Hmmm, he didn’t ask any questions or tell me anything substantial.  And again with the lack of punctuation!


One Date Wonders

A couple of guys that I’d dated previously – one date wonders – contacted me, too.  It’s kinda sweet that they liked me enough to keep in touch; it’s flattering, really.  But if we never get past the first date, then there really isn’t a reason to keep in touch.  It’s just never gonna happen between us.



Doug and I texted off and on yesterday and today.  He’s out of town, participating in a triathlon.  We exchanged selfies and talked about our day.  Like this convo from last night, which started when he sent me the link to follow him during the race.

“Tonight I just watched TV,” he texted.

“Me, too.  It’s cheesy movie night,” I answered truthfully.

“Nice!  Those are the best!” he texted back.

“Yes!  A very young Melissa Joan Hart, proceeded by Hilary Duff,” I told him.

“Hilary Duff is awesome.  I love her old album,” he said.

Wait, did I read that right?  Dude likes Hilary Duff’s album?!  Was he making a joke?

“OMG do you really?” I asked.

“Definitely,” he said, then quoted some lyrics.  “let the rain come down and wash something away, bla bla bla.”

I laughed so hard!  A manly man like him, a triathlete nonetheless, singing a teeny bopper girly girl song!  He cracks me up.

We’re seeing each other tomorrow night.  I can’t wait!  He told me that he’s going to be sore, and I answered that I would be, too.  I played softball today and have two more games tomorrow.

His answer to that was, “Nice!  I will have to massage your sweet booty.”

I like his thinking.  No, I love his thinking!

I also love that I don’t have to talk to those other guys.  I’ve got a good one already – and I only need one.  ; – )


Hot & sweaty after softball.  We won!

Hot & sweaty after softball.  We won!

The Mostly Good Second Date


“He’s great, but…” I said.  I was telling my best friend about my second date with Doug.

“Uh oh,” Naughty Nadia said.  “Are you nit picking again?”

“Is it nit picking to say that he was 22 minutes late?” I asked.  “Keep in mind that he chose the time and place.”

“Shit, I’d be upset about that,” Nadia said.  “Why did you stick around that long?”

“For one, he texted me at 10 minutes before we were supposed to meet, to say that he would be late,” I began.  “He was getting a car wash.  Does a car wash really take 30 minutes?  And if chose the time, why didn’t he leave work earlier?  Or ask me to meet him later?  I hate waiting!”

Nadia laughed; whether at my irritated face or at my torrent of questions, I’m not sure.  She said, “Did you ask him that?”

“He just said that it was Wednesday, so half-price car wash day,” I said, and shrugged.  “He could barely see out of his windshield, he said.  Whatever.  So, the other reason that I waited for him, was that I was at a park.  I played on the swings, climbed the playground equipment, and did Yoga.  I was happy.”

Nadia burst out laughing again.  “Let me get this straight.  While you were waiting for your date, you did yoga in the park?”

“Ya.  The playground area is kinda secluded behind some trees, and I was the only one there, so I did some downward facing dog, cobra, and such.  It was relaxing,” I answered.

That’s why you didn’t go ballistic on his ass for being late!” Nadia said with an “Ah-Ha” quality to her voice.

“Maybe,” I said.  “Don’t under estimate the therapeutic power of swings and yoga!”

“Point taken.  Was that his only mistake?” she asked.

“Well, he also waited until 2 p.m. to decide what we were doing,” I told her.

“Uh oh.  Was little Ms. Plan-Everything-a-Month-in-Advance upset?  She did get her panties in a wad?” Nadia teased me.

I rolled my eyes.  “Yes!  Who waits until the last minute to plan a date?!  And he didn’t do a lot of planning, either – he gave me four choices and asked me to pick.”

“Hmmmm.  Think he was worried that he’d disappoint you?” Nadia said.  “Wait, what were the choices?  Let me guess—dinner, movie, dinner and a movie, or the park.  Had to be in the park in there somewhere, right?”

I laughed.  “Yes, to the park, but otherwise, you are soooo wrong!  The choices were laser tag, go carts, whirly ball, or the park.  The other things are better in a group—he said so, too, when he suggested them—so we went hiking at Arbor Hills.”

“Ah, you love that place, don’t you?  Crowded enough for dates, but enough trees to feel like you’re in nature,” Nadia said.

“Right!  I made a couple of jokes about how I’m a serial killer that brings all my dates there, and he said, ‘Ok.’  He just went with it.  We had a good hike and talked the whole time.  We told each other silly jokes and talked about our friends.  He has a friend that just broke up with his girlfriend, and so do I.  It was great to just talk about whatever came to mind,” I said.  “And at the end, he gave me a very sweet good night kiss.”  I smiled and blushed a little.

“So it ended well,” Nadia said.

“Yes!  But am I going to be able to date someone who is 22 minutes late to dates?  And who doesn’t plan at all?!” I asked.  “Those things have the potential to make me Very Angry.”

“Be fair: he was only late to one date.  He was early to the first one, right?  Ok.  And maybe he didn’t plan this date, but he did give you choices, which you like.  AND,” she said, before I could say anything, “He must be something of a planner, since he had this marathon and triathlon scheduled this month, right?”

I nodded.  She made good points.  “Plus, he texts me every morning, and calls me almost every night,” I added.  “And he really is handsome.  And he’s goofy.”

“GREAT!” she said.  “He knows how to communicate!  He sounds awesome!” She punched me for emphasis.  “What’s on the agenda for the third date?”  She waggled her eye brows and said, “Are you going to Make Him Dinner?”

Her words might sound innocent, but the emphasis she put on them made them mean a lot more.  She might as well have said, “Are you going to invite him over to your house for hot steamy sex?”

I blushed.  “Dunno, we haven’t planned it.  Just said that we’d see each other next week.”

“Bow chica wow wow!” Nadia said.

“No!  Well, maybe…” I said.  “We’ll see.  If I invite him over for dinner, he BETTER not be late!”

“Then don’t plan it on Wednesday.  That’s half-price car wash day!”  Nadia said, and laughed so hard she snorted.


Batter Up! 

Sparrow Face + duck face = Fish face?

Sparrow Face + duck face = Fish face?

“I’ve never done this before,” Doug told me.  “Where do we start?”

“This is my first time, too!” I said.  Then I corrected myself, “Well, my first time in years.  We’ll figure it out together.”

I needed to get ready for an upcoming softball tournament, so I had asked him to meet me at the batting cages on Sunday night for our first date.

What did you think we were doing?!

His eyes are a beautiful clear blue.  I LOVE blue eyes with brown hair—like Linda Carter, the original Wonder Woman.  I have a major girl crush on her; always have, always will!

Back to Doug.  He’s 5’11”, as advertised.  I’ve dated guys who are 5’6” and married one who was 5’8”; height doesn’t mean a lot to me.  I’m noting it because some people exaggerate their height online, and he didn’t; he was honest.  He’s just as cute as his pictures, too, which is a relief.  With online dating, you’re never sure what you’re going to get.

Then again, before we met, he texted me some selfies from the campsite.  So I had a pretty good idea of what he looked like.   I love that he takes selfies; he’ll understand when I pucker up for the camera!

After an hour of admiring each other’s physical prowess—batting, that is—we went to Chili’s Bar and Grill to refuel.

“When I was in the hospital last year, my friends brought me an, “It’s a Girl” balloon and a sparkly My Little Pony.  The doctor came in with his clipboard, all serious, and said, ‘Do you know that you have a pink bottle balloon tied to your bed?’  I answered, ‘Look behind you, there’s a pink unicorn,’” Doug said.

I love that he has a sense of humor!  OMG this guy is great!  His trip to the emergency room didn’t stop him.  He’s still going strong!  The reason that we met on Sunday was that he was in a half marathon on Sunday morning.  He let me know that he’d be out of town this upcoming weekend, because he’s participating in a half Iron Man competition.  Wowzers!

I countered with a story of my own: the Romance of Lilly and Lucas.  “They’ll be here in October!  I can’t wait to meet Lucas.  I’m so excited for them!  They’re so happy together!”

Doug just couldn’t understand the whole Skype thing.  “I guess you have to wear clothes?” he asked.  “I don’t usually wear clothes at home.”

I laughed, then sighed wistfully.  “I used to walk around naked at home.  But I have roommates, so I can’t do that.”  I told him about Jack and Ed living with me.

“But seriously, what do you do while you’re on Skype?  Watch a movie together?  What?” Doug said, perplexed.

I laughed and explained as best I could.  Then I finished my glass of wine and said, “Ready to go?”

“I had a great time,” I told him, as we walked to the car.

“Me, too,” he said.  “We should do this again soon.  But remember, I’m leaving town on Thursday.”

“How about Wednesday?  Wednesday is before Thursday,” I suggested.

“Sounds great!” he said.  “What do you want to do?”

“It’s your turn to pick.  I chose the batting cages, so it’s only fair,” I said with a smile.

“And the batting cages were a great suggestion!” he said with a smile back.

After arriving home, I texted, “Home safe.  Thanks again for a great evening.”  Some guys insist that I text when I get home, so it’s become a habit.

“Thank you,” he texted back.  “And I forgot to tell you, you looked beautiful today.”

YES!  I was wearing an old t-shirt and blue jean shorts, the helmet at the batting cages messed up my hair, and he still thinks I’m beautiful.  YES!!

He texted me, “What’s the name of that awkward video chat thing?”

I spent the next 15 minutes texting him and talking to him on the phone telling him how to download the app and set it up.  Then he Skyped me for the very first time.

For the record, he was wearing clothes.

We chatted for a little while, then Jack wandered into the room.  Ed walked through a little later, so Doug was able to “meet” both of them.

“Oh!  We were talking about your prison tattoo,” I said.  “We don’t think that #thuglife is the best idea.”

Doug rolled his eyes.  “I’m not going to prison.  The thought was, if I ever do get wrongly accused and go to jail, the hashtag would tell people that I was nerdy and the Thug Life would get me cred, so they wouldn’t mess with me.”

I waved him off.  “If you’re going to plan a prison tat, do it right!  Ed, tell him!”

Ed had studied to be a police office for a semester or two.  He said, “I took a class in prison psychology.  You want to get a tattoo of a tear drop or a brick on your face; that says that you killed someone.  No one will mess you.”

Doug balked.  “I’m not getting a tattoo on my FACE!  On my stomach, I can cover it up.  What would my mom say, if I showed up with a tattoo on my FACE!”

I laughed.  He worried about what his mom thought?!  “After you get out of prison, remove it with a laser,” I said.

When I told Sally about this conversation later, she said, “Mom, he sounds goofy.  He’s perfect for you.”

Wait, was that compliment?

Doug texts me, “Morning!” every day.  Isn’t that sweet?  Can’t wait to see him tomorrow!!!

FYI, for those counting, I received 22 more winks/emails/likes on my new Match profile.  I haven’t set up dates with any of them; I’m hoping that Doug and I might date a while.  That’s right, I’m being cautiously optimistic about this one.  This blue-eyed, brown-haired, selfie-taking, high energy, marathon runner.

And Iron Man Competition doer.  Not sure what a person is called when they compete in an Iron Man Competition—are they considered an Iron Man?  If so, does a half-Iron Man Competition make him a half-Iron Man?  Or an Iron half-man?

It’s a triathlon, so he’s a tri-athlete.  Let’s go with that.

Wish me luck!  With my dating history, I need all that I can get!  ; – )


PS Lilly and Lucas will arrive at DFW on October 12th!  Can’t wait to see my crazy bestie again, and meet Lucas in person for the first time!


A Picture is Worth a Thousand Winks

My profile pic on Match (taken June 12, 2015).

My profile pic on Match (taken June 12, 2015).

I changed my profile pic on and received 15 likes, 5 winks, and 24 emails within a week.  Ok, that may be slightly less than 1000, but it’s still a lot for one week on Match, for someone who has been active for months.

I don’t even think the pic is that great.  It’s a selfie—breaking my own rule!—and a little fuzzy.  Shrug.  If it gets me 44 hits, I’ll leave it up there for a while.

I’m sure Kim Kardashian or Katie Perry would laugh at those stats.  For married people who might compare these numbers to Facebook, there is no direct comparison.  A rough Facebook metaphor might be like 44 people wanting to friend you in one day.  For an average person, that’s a lot!

Reality check: I wouldn’t accept all those friend requests.  That is, I am NOT going out on dates with all these guys.  Here’s a rough breakdown:

  • Two hot guys are out of town. Damn it!  One is near Houston (4 hours south) and the other is in Oklahoma City (3 hours north).  While I did date Sandy Oranges, who lives 12 hours away, I typically try to keep the commute to 30 minutes.  An hour tops; and that’s only if he’ll drive to come see me more often than not.
  • One was a total douche bag. Seriously, I don’t know what else to call him.  He posted pictures of his mansion, Lamborghini, watch, and even the label on his tie (Valentino).  Each picture was even more douche-y than the next.  Then again, if he lets me drive that Lamborghini just once, might be worth putting up with a d-bag for the night.
  • Several were too old. As in, more than 10 years older than me.  I carefully considered each one; after all, Professor Papaya was out of my age range, and we’re still friends.  In the end, I rejected each one.  I want a boyfriend, not a father figure.  One of them said, “I know I’m probably not your type, but if you want a teddy bear…”  Uh, no.  My username has “hiker” in it, not “snuggle bunny.”
  • Three were real possibilities.

Bachelor #1

This jet mechanic is a man of a few words.  He’s handsome and loves to play hockey.  I’m hoping that he is more verbose in person; otherwise, I might fall asleep on him.

Sample conversation:

“Hi. How was your work week? Hope it’s almost over. He he,” he wrote in a message.

“Whooo hoooo!” I responded.  No, I didn’t answer his question.  This was at 3 p.m. on Friday, and I was at a stoplight on my way home from school.

“I’m guessing your off work?” he replied.

I tried to ignore the typo (“your” instead of “you’re”).  I also tried to ignore the snippy smartass in my head that wanted to reply, “Yes I am.  And if you had asked me out earlier in the week, I could be on my way to meet you now.  INSTEAD, I get to spend another Friday night at home without a date!!”

I opted to reply, “Headed home now. Week was long, but productive. Glad to have an evening to chill.  What about you? How was your week?”

“Ditto. 14 hrs yesterday. 10 today. I just want to sit on couch and drink a beer and relax. He he. After a shower. :),” he sent.

OHHHH he worked long hours this week.  THAT’S why he didn’t ask me out.

Still, Ms. Smart Ass thinks he’s a dick.  He could have asked me to meet him tomorrow.

DOWN, Smart Ass!  DOWN!

The jet mechanic continued, “Are you relaxing at home?”

Now, this is one of those questions with no good answer.  If I say, “Yes,” I look like a loser.  If I say, “No, going out on a date,” I sound a little rude.  The only really acceptable answer is, “Going out with friends.”  However, I don’t like to lie.

So I went with the Smart Ass answer this time.  BUT I waited ‘til this morning to send it.  “I refuse to answer that question on the grounds that it may incriminate me. 😉   Or maybe I’m just trying to see mysterious and interesting, when I really watched TV, took a bath, and went to bed early. Sometimes quiet nights at home are perfect.  What about you?”

He said, “I didn’t go to bed til around 3. Do not understand why I’m awake this early. I wish I didn’t wake up til the Crack of noon. Lol.”

WTH?!  He didn’t respond to my brilliant, witty repertoire.  And if he didn’t get to bed ‘til 3, then he could have taken me out.

This guy is NOT making a good impression.

Bachelor #2

After he winked at me, I sent a message to this charming, Christian man.  That’s how he described himself, at least; “charming” was in his username and “Christian” was in his profile.  So I’ll call him CCM for short.

I sent, “Hi there!  How’s your week going?”

Ok, not the most original email.  I didn’t need something to hook him; he had already winked at me.  So I could skip right to the conversation.

“Good morning,” he replied, with an emoticon of a rose.

Well, that’s nice, but it doesn’t answer my question.


Bachelor #3 – Doug

“I am going to be out camping with the scouts this weekend and coming back Saturday night for a half marathon on Sunday morning.  But I am free after four on Sunday,” Doug texted me, after I asked if he’d like to hit the batting cages with me.

Wow.  He’s active in Boy Scouts, which means he’s active in his son’s life.  That’s a big plus.

Then he’s running a half marathon?  Which means he’s in shape.  Mmmmm, I like that.

And after he camps out and runs in a race, he’s still willing to meet me.  Wow!  He may be more energetic than me!  SWEET!

While discussing what we might do on Sunday night, I mentioned, “Unless you’d rather walk around downtown McKinney and get a glass of wine?”  I love the square; it has antique shops and at least three businesses have live music on Saturday night.  The area was renovated a few years ago to add patio seating to most of the restaurants.  Not sure how lively it will be on a Sunday, though.

Doug answered, “I’m not a drinker but I love hanging out with those that do.  I got tired of people harassing me about being diabetic and drinking, so I quite to minimize what people harass me about with being a diabetic.”  He paused, then continued, “I still get harassed at work every month at our birthday party cake eating celebration.  Almost eight years and they don’t understand cake doesn’t kill me, just cake with poison in it does.”

I laughed!  He has dietary restrictions, too – YAY!

I mean, it sucks that he’s diabetic, but he’ll TOTALLY understand when I can’t eat cake, either!

I texted, “LOL I’m gluten free so I completely sympathize!  ‘Just one bite! It’s so delicious!’”  If we were talking on the phone, I would have gone into more detail.  Over text, though, I like to keep it short and sweet.

I know, you wouldn’t expect me to be a woman of few words.  ; – )

He answered, “Ok, I am glad that it isn’t a deal breaker.  Some people don’t feel comfortable drinking around me, but I love being around people drinking.  It brings them up to my level of fun.”

OMG what a great answer!  I thought about telling him that I drink around my kids all the time.

But that sounds bad, like I’m alcoholic or a bad mom.  Hey, they’re adults now, and they choose not to drink.  Well, Sally is only 18, so technically she can’t drink.  Unless her parent offers her a beverage; under Texas law, that’s legal.  Jack is goofy enough without alcohol; he knows it and chooses not to imbibe.  Hey, more for me!

Can’t wait to meet Doug.  He’s athletic, a good communicator, and he also has dietary restrictions.  And, ya, he happens to be handsome, too: 5’11” tall, short dark brown hair, brown eyes, and in great shape.  Fingers crossed he’s just as awesome in person!!

This morning

I’m typing this on Saturday morning, and 6 more guys have winked and/or emailed.  Wow.  Being on Match pushes your profile to the top of the search list, so you get more attention.  Imagine how many more hits I’d get if I left the computer signed onto the website!!

One of the guys is 10 years older than me, but is still pretty handsome.  He has pics of him hiking, too, which is a big plus in my book.  The others are very attractive, too.  Maybe I won’t cancel my Match subscription just yet.  😉

I’ve got to go; gotta write these guys back and decide what I want to with Doug tomorrow.  Then pick out an outfit.  Lots to do!


PS My professor gave me minor edits to my thesis—wording mainly—and signed the paperwork to say I’m done.  Now I just need to submit it.  WOW.  Almost done!

Now, if I can just concentrate on my class, instead of Professor Mercury’s ass…To be fair, he has really great taste in jeans.  And does he work out daily?  Damn.  That man is FINE.  Wish me luck!

Sexy Elements

“What is the sexiest element?” I asked my fellow material science majors.  “I think it’s Mercury, because it’s in thermometers and hot guys make my temperature rise!” (

Sheldon Cooper gave me a dubious look.

Ok, he’s not really Sheldon, but he played The Big Bang star at Halloween.  Close enough.

“Mercury is a liquid.  How is that sexy?!” Sheldon said.

I started to make my case, but like his namesake, Sheldon waved at me like I was an annoying fly.  “Tantalum is the sexy metal.”

He made his case and we listed the reasons on a white board.

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Another student, let’s call him Leonard, piped up with, “Carbon is the sexiest element.”

“Is that why everyone talks about carbon dating? ” I asked.

Everyone was impressed by my pun.  Really, these are nerds, they laughed out loud!!

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I used my super pretty writing to transcribe his list.  I don’t have as much faith in Carbon as I do in Tantalum, but he made some interesting points.

Here’s to nerdy good fun!