What Was I Thinking?

One more flashback on this last day of 2010. Oh how far we've come, friends. Happy New Year to all...don't do anything/anyone stupid tonight. But, if you do do something/someone stupid tonight, make sure you tell me all about it.

P.S. New Year's Steve is in town. Oh me, oh my.

X-Rated

So last night I was chatting with Dick Butkus online and all was going decently well. Until he asked me what I look for in a man.

Well apparently I think I'm quite the comedian, because I replied, "Confidence, a sense of humor and a huge bank account."

However, I didn't realize the dating site x's out words it deems inappropriate. And I have no idea who does the deeming, because my message popped up on both of our screens like this:

"Confidence, a sense of humor and a huge xxxx xxxxxxx."

By the time I looked up and realized what had just happened, he was typing.

"Huge what?" he asked.

Oh my gosh I could only imagine what he was imagining. I stared at those 11 x's trying to figure out if there was a dirty phrase that fit. Huge...man cannon. Huge...twig and berries. Huge...trouser snake? He probably thinks I'm this Internet sex pervert who was just cutting to the chase.

With the press of the Enter button I'd inadvertently turned this light and airy convo into a NC-17 porn fest.

I tried to explain that what I said wasn't inappropriate and I wasn't sure why it had been bleeped out.

Unfortunately, when they didn't bleep out his message when he said "shit" in a sentence, it didn't really help my case. If they let shit fly, what smut did he think my little fingers were typing out?

I laughed it off, but I was red in the face. I know I tried to explain myself, but he'll always wonder what dirty filth I really said.

I made a huge xxx of myself.

Maid in the U.S.A.

I’ve done a little house cleaning. I had only exchanged a few emails with Col. Sanders, and just wasn’t feeling it. Plus he was kind of short. And in one of his photos he was making a peace sign. So I dropped the quick fade. Which really wasn’t even a fade because we never met. It was more like a quick delete. All communications ceased.

And I wasn’t really interested in Dick. Sure we had some funny conversations, and I accidentally sexually harassed him via IM, but he was a little abrasive. He kept saying things like he was sick of meeting trash. Oh and then he asked me, basically a stranger to him, how many one night stands I’ve had. Excuse me? Then he said he’d guess at least 10. Delete.

I am still chatting with two guys. Mister Darcy, the charming British chap who continues to amuse me, finally signed up for Gmail so we could chat. He wasn’t familiar with it, so I coerced him into getting an account. The next evening I got an email that read, “Right then, I signed up. Now what?” Now you just talk to me in your Prince William voice. He could read a VCR installation manual to me, and I'd be peachy as punch.

Then there’s Bob Loblaw. This boy’s primary method of communication is texting. Which is fine. But I don’t like meeting a guy in person without chatting on the phone at least once or twice. So I was happy when he called me the other night. And he has a cute voice!

I could tell that he has a really good sense of humor, so I decided to just tell him I have a blog about my dating life. Why hide it? It’s a big part of my life, and I wanted to see how he reacted. Well, he was genuinely interested and said he wanted to read some of my entries.

I’ve told guys in the past that I have this blog, but I’ve never shown any of them my stuff. It’s just so weird to have some man see my dating history on paper. I may as well hand them my diary. Which I don’t currently have, although I did recently find my diary from 6th grade and let me just tell you, I was way ahead of my time. I had bulleted lists of dating rules, which ranged from only ordering salad and eating half, to not talking a lot about myself and really focusing on my date. And then I’d written a script that I was going to read when I called this totally cute 8th grader named David who probably didn’t even know who I was, and pretend to be my best friend “Ashley” and get this guy to meet the real me at the movies.

Anyway, the idea of sharing my stories with Bob Loblaw was equal parts intriguing and terrifying. I decided I had to do this. So, I carefully selected three articles (this one, this one and this one),dropped them in an email and hit send. And then I realized my heart was racing and my palms were a little clammy. I was really nervous.

Well he’s batting a thousand, because he said he loved them. And not because he stroked my ego with some nice comments, but because he gets it. He gets that dating can be ridiculous and it's something to laugh about.

Let’s see if he gets to first base.

X-Rated

So last night I was chatting with Dick Butkus online and all was going decently well. Until he asked me what I look for in a man.

Well apparently I think I'm quite the comedian, because I replied, "Confidence, a sense of humor and a huge bank account."

However, I didn't realize the dating site x's out words it deems inappropriate. And I have no idea who does the deeming, because my message popped up on both of our screens like this:

"Confidence, a sense of humor and a huge xxxx xxxxxxx."

By the time I looked up and realized what had just happened, he was typing.

"Huge what?" he asked.

Oh my gosh I could only imagine what he was imagining. I stared at those 11 x's trying to figure out if there was a dirty phrase that fit. Huge...man cannon. Huge...twig and berries. Huge...trouser snake? He probably thinks I'm this Internet sex pervert who was just cutting to the chase.

With the press of the Enter button I'd inadvertently turned this light and airy convo into a NC-17 porn fest.

I tried to explain that what I said wasn't inappropriate and I wasn't sure why it had been bleeped out.

Unfortunately, when they didn't bleep out his message when he said "shit" in a sentence, it didn't really help my case. If they let shit fly, what smut did he think my little fingers were typing out?

I laughed it off, but I was red in the face. I know I tried to explain myself, but he'll always wonder what dirty filth I really said.

I made a huge xxx of myself.

The Three Musketeers

Alright so I'm chatting with three gentlemen right now. They all seem really nice and cute, so I'm enjoying the PMA.

There's a stock trader (I know, I know) who went to school in Kentucky and likes talking about college basketball and how much better his school's team is than mine. Colonel Sanders wants to meet sometime next week, so I'm thinking we could do something fun like grab coffee and play a game and then get in a screaming match over whose team is better. Should be fun.

Then we have a former college football player (I know, I know) who told me he loves the water, does not appreciate women who expose their thong underpants above their jeans, and didn't have that many jersey chasers in college. Well Dick Butkus asked if I could get together on Nov. 5 because that would give us a few weeks to talk and get to know eachother before we met in person. I thought that was a nice idea. However he did text me yesterday morning at 7 a.m. to tell me good morning and to have a great day. So I replied with, "Thanks, you too!" a few hours later, to which he replied "Good Day!" I'm not sure if he was telling me he was having a wonderful Thursday or he's from 1905 and wears a monacle and top hat and was haughtily telling me goodbye.

I'm sort of on the fence about Dick, and I can't put my finger on why, so we'll see how this plays out.

Last but certainly not least, we have a life-lovin' lawyer (I know, I know) who just started a job in the city. He IM'ed me when I was chatting with Dick Butkus so I wasn't really paying attention. It was kind of like when you walk up to two friends talking at a party and they really don't want to acknowledge you because Trent's telling a really funny story about the time he and Amanda went camping and their dog got into the baked beans and it would just be horrible to start the whole story over.

Anyway, I checked out his profile and he has this adorable smile and chocolate brown hair. He volunteers, likes sports, and is close to his family. So I decided to say hello back. He asked me what brought me to the site, which is a question I hate. Why are we allll here? So I replied, "Because Ashley Madison is only for men." Of course I said just kidding and he laughed and everyone was happy.

I couldn't talk long because I had somewhere to be, but I was intrigued, so I gave Bob Loblaw my email address and off I went.

This morning I opened my inbox to find an email from him. Which put a big smile on my uncaffeinated face.

So we've got a Southerner, a conservative panties lobbyist and an attorney.

I do not object.