Tinder is suspended… for now

I’ve more or less stopped looking at Tinder. I can’t juggle 2 men at once. I don’t want to. It’s too much back and forth and trying to remember who does what. Ask my friends, my short term memory is total shit. I do look forward to hearing from this man though. I also am confident that he will text me every day. I am not anxious about not hearing from him, which is a nice change.

We have been texting for about a week. My schedule sucks (as I mentioned) and it’s even worse in the summer. If I’m the last person that texts, he knows it’s his turn to text next. I hear from him every day. Not too much, not too little. This is Goldilocks’s “just right”. I don’t feel pressure to meet the guy. He hasn’t asked for photos of my feet… or my tits. He seems cool with my schedule (although there are small references to me being gone I choose to ignore). An example would be, “the guys you have dated must really miss you.” Yeah, I don’t think my ex was capable of missing anyone but his mom his best friend. I haven’t dated since I started this job. Well, except the man that broke up with me over the phone after 6.5 years BECAUSE of this job. You know, small stuff.

We begin the text flirting… It’s not offensive but it’s definitely there. More like how tall are you and I see you have a tattoo on your chest. I do catch Michael saying things like “hey babe” which I think are kind of familiar terms, but hey I haven’t dated for over a decade. The Internet has changed life so much. #callingmebabelaready #newtoonlinedating #niceguyornah #tinderfuckitall

Did Michael Man Up?

I wake up the next day and Michael has actually initiated a message. It’s a simple “Hey what’s up”. Sometimes I worry if a message is too clever that the man is trying too hard or hiding something.  I want a simple man honestly.  I respond with something in kind. The conversation flows. He actually seems nice. He’s not asking for photos of my tits or being inappropriate. After a couple of days exchange, I give the man my number. Why not? He didn’t pressure me for it. I’m invested in this thing at this point, at least on a curiosity level. This man is interesting. He tells me he’s a cop. I used to be in Law Enforcement. If I’m going to meet someone from the Internet then let it be an LEO. I could still end up in a body bag, but at least it wouldn’t be a botched job.

Michael converses with me like a human. He remembers my weird schedule and things I’ve said before. He asks me questions. He seems interested without being freakishly interested. I try hard to explain my life. I’m a flight attendant on reserve. I have 10 days off a month, but I’m on 24 hour call the other days, but I never know where I might be. These people can call me at 2 am and I have to be at my airport by 5 am. There is also “the list”. Dependent on my position on the list I could get called but maybe not. See? I get tired just typing this shit out. I’m confusing myself over here and I halfway know what I’m talking about. It took me a year to even know what I’m trying to tell this man to figure out in a few days. I figure since he does shift work (midnights no less) he can somewhat comprehend how hard it is to schedule things? He has Friday-Sundays off. I may never see a weekend off for the next 3-4 years. Then I have, I’m still kind of commuting to Florida but… does he need to know that?

Internet dating I think you have to establish boundaries? I don’t want a one night stand; he doesn’t want a one night stand. We send selfies to verify the other person is real. He is open about his life and where he is and what he’s doing. He has a daughter. I have no idea how to deal with that, but we just started so I can’t even think that far ahead. Let’s face it, my age group is going to be full of children. I will have to figure it out. I do notice he uses a SnapChat filter when he takes some of his photos. I kind of like my men manly, but we overlook things right ladies? I’m trying to be more open and less judgy. I’m a gay man trapped in a woman’s body.

#tindertoreallife #allthemessages #figuringoutdating #internetdating #establishingboundaries #tinder

Vodka Gives Me Courage!

Fast forward 2 or 3 days later to a drinking day. Woohoo this is definitely the time for me to swipe. Vodka gives fuel to the dating fire!

My thoughts as I swipe and consistently hit the “X” are as follows:

“That guy has crazy looking eyes. “

“I don’t like that one’s sweater. “

“Who is the girl in the photo?“

“You put all of your 5 kids in the one photo? Why is your kid’s face not blocked out on a dating app?’

Then it happened… Oh wait… you’re cute, your eyes seem “normal” and you have a nice mouth. Let me say I look at the eyes for “crazy” and I look at the mouth because I am a fan of a nice mouth. Who isn’t? I swiped right. It was a match. We shall name this first match “Jeff” to protect the innocent. I felt a little panicky. Now what do I fecking do? I have to talk to them? I’m 40, so in my day the man came to you. Is it still that way? I am guessing it isn’t. Maybe I don’t want a man who won’t message me first. Do people even still date? I’m going to wait this one out. Man up Jeff.

Jeff did message me. I believe it was a simple, “hey what’s up” message. I was wallowing in my left swiping and my anxiety ridden right swipe. I hate dating in real life. I’ve never been good at it. I usually meet someone nice at work or through a friend.

I felt the need to respond. I want to be as polite online as I am in real life (well maybe more polite). I sent a, “hello how are you message” in response. A few more trivial messages were exchanged.

After 3-4 messages, Jeff wanted to meet. This is when it all became real. I’m going to meet someone from the Internet for the first time in my life. That seems like a big commitment in and of itself. I’m not ready. In my sober state, I panicked, unmatched Jeff and deleted the app. Again. I’m sorry Jeff. I am, in fact, an asshole. #ikindofghosted #swipedright #tinderfirsttimeuser

The background to this ditty…

Let me give you a little background so you can see how I ended up here. I’m damaged. I’m damaged from my past relationships. I find frogs and I try to make them princes. Life isn’t a fairy tale y’all, and frogs don’t become princes. Take these words to heart please. Real talk here.

I had an alcoholic first love. I also once intensely loved a bipolar man who actually gave me PTSD. That was the Vietnam of relationships. Seriously. Broke. My. Heart. I even got a tattoo of a steel heart (over my actual heart) with a lock on it and blood pouring out of the bottom that says in Latin, “Nunquam Iterum”. That means “Never Again”. I was single for THREE years after that. I had FWB and that’s it. I left them before the sun came up and I never looked back. They held my purse for me and cried themselves to sleep at night. I had no feelings, I just had dick. That one changed me as a person. I do have to say though, I told them they were a piece of ass from the start. They chose to not believe me.

Then I fell in love with someone driven and clean-cut with no tattoos. He’s not a drummer in a rock band. He didn’t drink. He had a great job and owned his own home. He was so driven. He was the opposite of everyone I had fallen for (in my head). I was excited for this one. He loved me without regard and he would never leave! I could let crazy train leave the station and he would just say, “all aboard”.

I fall for driven men. Men that need me to help fix them. He had…drum roll please… mild aspbergers. For fuck’s sake. His lack of emotion and drama was just who he was. He wasn’t accepting my dramatic self, he was oblivious to it. He maintained a normal sex life etc for a period of three years. Then he had a new obsession, and it wasn’t me. After 6.5 years together (we even lived together for 4 of those) he broke up with me over the phone. I haven’t seen him since. He had prioritized everyone and everything else for about 3 years prior to that. I believe in love, so I stuck around long after I should have.

In short, I fall for super driven people who work hard just to find out that I will never be a priority. I’m a “cool girl”. I don’t say shit I just live my life… right out of theirs. The alcoholic tried to get a business off the ground (perfectionist and it never happened), the bipolar so driven (it was mania) and the aspbergers (this is what I want to be and I’m doing nothing but that).

Let me tell you something, they always come back. My first love, the alcoholic, sent me a message via Facebook (no we aren’t friends he had to find me) three weeks ago to tell me that me leaving him made him a better person. To quote a meme, “you can fuck off with that shit. You can fuck straight off to fuck off mountain while riding your fuck horse to the land of aww hell no”. He said it destroyed him and made him do right by the next one. Listen, Dick, you should have done it right by now. I could have had your babies and lived in your house with the picket fence.

The second one, Mr. Bipolar, has somehow managed to stay in a relationship longer than me. He has a girl who will stick by him until the end. She’s kicked him out possibly three to ten times but hey, he has someone. He just likes to call me every so often to make veiled threats. But he comes back…  I don’t want to be his girl, but dammit he’s happy and I’m not and it pisses me off.

The last one, it’s too new, and hey maybe I will hear from him when I’m 60 about how I made him a better person for whomever his next relationship is.

Fuck me… #starterwife