Nearly every other commercial on TV seems to be for a dating website and there's a new one popping up practically every day it seems, each one claiming that their method of introducing potential partners is the best or most successful. It would seem that there are only so many ways to re-invent the wheel, but by adding more structured questions, interest inventories and hoops to jump through before talking to an actual person, the dating websites may indeed be different, but the result is sadly the same.
My date on Monday night and I had been through the 4 rounds of structured 'get to know each other' emails, exchanged real email addresses and even phone numbers only to meet up at the coffee shop to discover that there was no spark between us. He had a good job but a serious lack of charisma. The guy before him was the exact opposite- tons of fun but no real goal or guarantee of stability.
No matter what popular movies or media claim, that tingling feeling that you get when you meet someone you like cannot be manufactured or supplemented by common interests. Unfortunately, no matter how hard dating websites try to offer an alternative to organic meetings between two people and the creation of that spark, I fear that they'll never be able to establish real relationships or anything more that amusing dating stories.
Friday, July 30, 2010
Sunday, June 27, 2010
Heather does dominatrix... badly
When I told one of my close friends this story over lunch her response was to shake her head and ask, "Why on Earth do you go and meet with these men?'
This isn't something I haven't asked myself a million times but the answer is fairly simple: curiosity. At first my blog was simply a way of conveying stories about funny situations to my friends but now I think of it as a kind of experiment in sexual anthropology. So when this guy contacted me a few months ago, it took a while for my confidence to build enough to match my curiosity.
Like many guys on online dating sites, it took all of two minutes for the conversation to gravitate towards sex, but this conversation was different, this chat bypassed kinky and took the fast track to freakville. He was into B.D.S.M. which stands for Bondage, Dominance and Sadomasochism.
Usually, I hear from people who like a little tie me/them up action or the occasional spanking or fingers tightening in the hair without severe pulling. However, this guy was different, his sexual palatte included sucking on toes, collars and leashes and other bodily fluids from pee to puke. Which is in large part why it took me months to actually meet with this guy at all.
Finally after a number of exchanges, including more mild and informal chatting, he wanted to make me more comfortable and offered me the reins... I would be the dominant... the dominatrix. Before taking him up on the offer, I said the pace had to be mine and that he already knew my limits when it came to bodily fluids, but that I would see how it went.
Then I got a text that nearly made me cancel. It read: "Can I wait for you naked in my collar and leash mistress?" Er... No. You can't. The idea of props and costumes (or lack there of) doesn't bother me as such but role play to me always feels silly.
I want to make sure that is perfectly clear, although much of my blog may seem judgmental, which in part let's be honest, it is, I don't think any of the people in my dating catalog are bad people, just that their approach or what turns them on is not what turns me on and the situations and conversations that we've had to establish that we weren't suitable for each other are rather funny to me (and hopefully to my friends).
Without going into too much detail, I tried my best to be a good dominatrix by de-humanizing and controlling this gentleman, however, I think I failed abysmally. Something about the idea of inflicting non-pleasurable pain or treating another human being as a toilet-even if they like it just didn't work for me, and unfortunately, I am no closer to understanding why or how it works for him and in that respect we were both left unsatisfied when I left.
This isn't something I haven't asked myself a million times but the answer is fairly simple: curiosity. At first my blog was simply a way of conveying stories about funny situations to my friends but now I think of it as a kind of experiment in sexual anthropology. So when this guy contacted me a few months ago, it took a while for my confidence to build enough to match my curiosity.
Like many guys on online dating sites, it took all of two minutes for the conversation to gravitate towards sex, but this conversation was different, this chat bypassed kinky and took the fast track to freakville. He was into B.D.S.M. which stands for Bondage, Dominance and Sadomasochism.
Usually, I hear from people who like a little tie me/them up action or the occasional spanking or fingers tightening in the hair without severe pulling. However, this guy was different, his sexual palatte included sucking on toes, collars and leashes and other bodily fluids from pee to puke. Which is in large part why it took me months to actually meet with this guy at all.
Finally after a number of exchanges, including more mild and informal chatting, he wanted to make me more comfortable and offered me the reins... I would be the dominant... the dominatrix. Before taking him up on the offer, I said the pace had to be mine and that he already knew my limits when it came to bodily fluids, but that I would see how it went.
Then I got a text that nearly made me cancel. It read: "Can I wait for you naked in my collar and leash mistress?" Er... No. You can't. The idea of props and costumes (or lack there of) doesn't bother me as such but role play to me always feels silly.
I want to make sure that is perfectly clear, although much of my blog may seem judgmental, which in part let's be honest, it is, I don't think any of the people in my dating catalog are bad people, just that their approach or what turns them on is not what turns me on and the situations and conversations that we've had to establish that we weren't suitable for each other are rather funny to me (and hopefully to my friends).
Without going into too much detail, I tried my best to be a good dominatrix by de-humanizing and controlling this gentleman, however, I think I failed abysmally. Something about the idea of inflicting non-pleasurable pain or treating another human being as a toilet-even if they like it just didn't work for me, and unfortunately, I am no closer to understanding why or how it works for him and in that respect we were both left unsatisfied when I left.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Heather gives "Sexy" back
You have a new email from this guy on our dating website!
Every time I see those words I cross my fingers and remember that my e-dating profile provides me with great material to amuse my friends with even if that amusement is paired with utter disappointment that the single male population in my immediate area is clearly single for very obvious reasons.
The past few times that I've opened those emails, they've been one line and that one line goes something like this "hey sexy, what's up?" From 5 photos on my profile, which are in no way revealing, these gentlemen of various ages and ethnic backgrounds find it not only appropriate, but flattering to open the lines of communication with "hey sexy."
Now it's not that I'm offended, flattery is always in short supply and most certainly the sentiment is a welcome one. And it's not that the gentlemen are always unattractive to me, some of them are what I consider cute or handsome. But is that how they would approach me in a bar? Is that how they would address me if we met at a basketball game? If we met at some other venue than the internet? Probably not.
Not to mention that sexy is purely subjective, I personally find wit and intelligence more sexy in someways than physical appearance. If I find a man's mind sexy, it's easier to find the whole package sexier and the opposite is also true where he can be physically appealing but have the personality of a wet mop and then the whole thing is ruined.
It's totally a personal preference, but I like being called sexy in context. Whispering it in my ear when we enter a room and I'm made up and I feel sexy, or when we're in bed and in the midst of or done doing something sexy. But not as an opener, and not when I'm reading it in my pjs with bed hair or about to go teach, it's out of context and if they're older than my dad, it's just plain uncomfortable.
Every time I see those words I cross my fingers and remember that my e-dating profile provides me with great material to amuse my friends with even if that amusement is paired with utter disappointment that the single male population in my immediate area is clearly single for very obvious reasons.
The past few times that I've opened those emails, they've been one line and that one line goes something like this "hey sexy, what's up?" From 5 photos on my profile, which are in no way revealing, these gentlemen of various ages and ethnic backgrounds find it not only appropriate, but flattering to open the lines of communication with "hey sexy."
Now it's not that I'm offended, flattery is always in short supply and most certainly the sentiment is a welcome one. And it's not that the gentlemen are always unattractive to me, some of them are what I consider cute or handsome. But is that how they would approach me in a bar? Is that how they would address me if we met at a basketball game? If we met at some other venue than the internet? Probably not.
Not to mention that sexy is purely subjective, I personally find wit and intelligence more sexy in someways than physical appearance. If I find a man's mind sexy, it's easier to find the whole package sexier and the opposite is also true where he can be physically appealing but have the personality of a wet mop and then the whole thing is ruined.
It's totally a personal preference, but I like being called sexy in context. Whispering it in my ear when we enter a room and I'm made up and I feel sexy, or when we're in bed and in the midst of or done doing something sexy. But not as an opener, and not when I'm reading it in my pjs with bed hair or about to go teach, it's out of context and if they're older than my dad, it's just plain uncomfortable.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Application for dating me
Taking a page out of Tucker Max's book is only useful if you're out of wiping material, so I'm leaving all of those pages firmly fastened in his book and on his website. However, the whole "checklist" idea of what is appealing in a partner is kind of useful for those of us who are a little more choosy and try to avoid riding town bicycles or barflies who've already had their wings pulled off. If you're racist, sexist, homophobic, anti-semitic or any kind of supremacist I don't want to know you let alone date you or sleep with you. If you have some other belief that compels you to try and convert others, knock on someone else's door. If you have what's referred to as "Peter Pan Syndrome," take your fairy dust and your game console and fly back to Neverland as fast as you can. If you have a totally distorted and unhealthy (and usually unwarranted) overly inflated ego and/or self perception, I hate to burst your bubble but... *pop*. If you have an annoying nasal and or squeaky voice I can promise you that I've thought of what it would sound like in bed and nothing not even duct tape and ear plugs would tempt me to sleep with you even if you looked like Clive Owen. 4 year degree required and higher education level strongly encouraged. If you have never been outside of the contiguous United States (or your own for that matter) you'd do better finding a girl from your hometown or the one just down the road. If you have no sex drive, you can only call me when you've gotten your engine overhauled. Alternatively, if you've got fixations on backdoor action, bondage, sharing, excretion, exhibitionist tendencies or anything else like that, you'd probably do better with a 1 900 number and a big bottle of Jergens than you would with me. If your motto is "it's not the size that counts..." I'll refer you to the whole breast size issue and then ask you if you really want to stick to your original statement. If your member has more bends than a paperclip, you may want to see someone about that and I mean a qualified medical professional, not me. If you can't remember the number of sexual partners you've had or if your bedroom has a revolving door is a revolving one, have fun with that, I won't. If your idea of foreplay is buying me dinner, you can stay in your car and head to the drive thru (and if your idea of buying me dinner involves a drive thru, keep on truckin). Quite obviously, I wouldn't tolerate violence towards me but I wouldn't tolerate it towards anyone else either. If you don't like beer I would say great more for me, but if it's "lite" or watery like most Domestics, more for you (unless you're up for trying the better beer the rest of the world drinks- in which case you just gained points) If you believe that the food groups are meat, potatoes, beer, candy and soda/pop we're going to have problems. If you spend more time on your hair than I do or in general look prettier than I do, you may want to find a more suitable companion. If you're desperately seeking wife/baby maker, you'll see a cloud of dust behind me that resembles that of the Roadrunner in Looney Tunes. Last but not least, if you do/have done any of the following consider yourself automatically disqualified: Been arrested Participated in competitive eating (aside from chubby bunny competitions) Do drugs Killed or maimed a person or animal (hunting is exempt) Donated money to a televangelist Voted for George W Bush Chew tobacco Been an extreme activist of any kind Believe that you are the messiah or if you were previously married to or otherwise entangled with me or someone I know
Heather and the set up
By sending out a simple text expressing my lament for the lack of male companionship, (i.e. "I need a man") my dear friend offered to fix me up with another singleton, saying that if nothing else, the date could be more fodder for my blog cataloging all of my dating disasters.
My friend sent me a picture and I agreed that she could give him my phone number, which he promptly phoned about an hour later. He was jittery and talkative and said he was trying to be assertive because he was normally way too shy for this kind of thing- calling a complete stranger to try and set up a date. I reassured him that I'm not that intimidating and he should just relax, which he follows up with "okay, well how about this, come roll around with me for about 25 minutes and if you don't like me you never have to see me again."
If your mind went straight to the gutter on that one, you're not alone. I asked for clarification and he explained that what he meant was to offer me an alternative date of sorts. If I wanted to ride along with him while he hauled sugar beets it would be better than if we met up at a bar or cafe instead and "stared at each other awkwardly trying to make conversation." I politely declined that offer for the same reason that I declined scrot guy's offer to go to his house for a massage. Safety and common sense often dictate my decision making (unless of course there's alcohol involved- then I seem to do the opposite, but I digress).
I agreed to meet him the following night after he worked a 12 hour shift but before hanging up, he stipulated that he was not interested in meeting someone who was "keeping their options open" as he phrased it. I wish I could say I wasn't fazed by the request for exclusivity but usually, I'm on date 4 or 5 by the time that question comes up and not minute 24 or 25.
Unfortunately, it wasn't a particularly good 12 hour shift and we miscommunicated time frames and destinations. He walked in looking better than his photo and smelling rather lovely (I do love cologne something fierce) but unfortunately, that's where the good points ended. After about an hour of trying to find common ground (which was like searching for land in the middle of the Atlantic ocean) we decided to call it a night and I pointed to my car in the parking lot and he mocked my choice of automobile. Seeing as it's a 2007 and brand new to me (though it was attacked by a little old lady only 4 hours after I purchased it) the car is pretty swish and I'm proud of it. If he hadn't already struck out, I would have added extra innings as if it were a recent Twins game. Long story short, he's a catch for someone else's net.
My friend sent me a picture and I agreed that she could give him my phone number, which he promptly phoned about an hour later. He was jittery and talkative and said he was trying to be assertive because he was normally way too shy for this kind of thing- calling a complete stranger to try and set up a date. I reassured him that I'm not that intimidating and he should just relax, which he follows up with "okay, well how about this, come roll around with me for about 25 minutes and if you don't like me you never have to see me again."
If your mind went straight to the gutter on that one, you're not alone. I asked for clarification and he explained that what he meant was to offer me an alternative date of sorts. If I wanted to ride along with him while he hauled sugar beets it would be better than if we met up at a bar or cafe instead and "stared at each other awkwardly trying to make conversation." I politely declined that offer for the same reason that I declined scrot guy's offer to go to his house for a massage. Safety and common sense often dictate my decision making (unless of course there's alcohol involved- then I seem to do the opposite, but I digress).
I agreed to meet him the following night after he worked a 12 hour shift but before hanging up, he stipulated that he was not interested in meeting someone who was "keeping their options open" as he phrased it. I wish I could say I wasn't fazed by the request for exclusivity but usually, I'm on date 4 or 5 by the time that question comes up and not minute 24 or 25.
Unfortunately, it wasn't a particularly good 12 hour shift and we miscommunicated time frames and destinations. He walked in looking better than his photo and smelling rather lovely (I do love cologne something fierce) but unfortunately, that's where the good points ended. After about an hour of trying to find common ground (which was like searching for land in the middle of the Atlantic ocean) we decided to call it a night and I pointed to my car in the parking lot and he mocked my choice of automobile. Seeing as it's a 2007 and brand new to me (though it was attacked by a little old lady only 4 hours after I purchased it) the car is pretty swish and I'm proud of it. If he hadn't already struck out, I would have added extra innings as if it were a recent Twins game. Long story short, he's a catch for someone else's net.
Friday, September 4, 2009
Heather and the married guy
After the original 5 e-dating disasters, and the infamous "scrot guy" you'd think that I was completely put off of e-dating and maybe even men in general, but no, there was one last would be suitor who presented himself before I removed myself permanently from the e-dating circuit.
I met with the man that we'll call the entrepreneur for dinner after slightly bruising my ego on someone else who I also met through electronic means. In town frequently on business, the entrepreneur was looking for someone to spend time with during the evenings and not really looking for or interested in a long term or serious relationship that would "go somewhere" like pretty much everyone else in Fargo seems to be.
Although I knew it could be dangerous having drinks in or near his hotel, I decided that under no circumstances was I going anywhere near his room so it would be alright to meet there. When he arrived he was fairly good looking, not exceedingly tall, personable, had incredibly curvy biceps peaking out of his short sleeved button up shirt and curly black hair.
I'm a little embarrassed that my first drink made me light headed, but I responsibly ordered pasta to soak up the martini and very casually nursed a beer over the course of dinner while he drank three in rather rapid succession. Dating is a nerve-racking activity so I can understand the need to take the edge off, but he had another reason to be nervous... that's right, he's married.
Now this wasn't some revelation that came up over forkfuls of alfredo, I knew that he was married before I walked into the hotel. He told me very early on in our communications that he has a wife and that he understood if I no longer wanted to meet with him. Having been the victim of OWS (other woman syndrome) myself, the situation piqued my curiosity. Maybe I would be able to in some way tap in to that mentality and understand a little more about how my own marriage unravelled. So when I agreed to meet with him after vigorous debate with myself, I agreed on the basis that it would be platonic. Who knows, maybe he just needed someone to talk to or convince him that it was an all around bad idea to involve a third party in the break up of a marriage. (Yes, I am actually that delusional and optimistic.)
Of course, he asks if I would like to come up and watch a movie, and naturally, he asks out of sheer concern for my well-being if I've had too much to drive, and insists that if I came up nothing would happen. And then after walking me to my car phones me to make sure I got home safely when I had just texted to tell him I had and thanked me for meeting him. And emailed me the next day saying that he really couldn't drink if we went out again because he was having trouble keeping his mind in platonic mode.
All in all, I'm glad that I went, it was insightful and I didn't know what I was going to get out of it and I still don't know what I actually did get out of it save this: maybe marriage is an outdated idea that takes otherwise happy people and makes them feel trapped and when any animal, human or otherwise feels trapped, they all revert to some primitive instinct that makes them claw like hell at the ties that bind.
I met with the man that we'll call the entrepreneur for dinner after slightly bruising my ego on someone else who I also met through electronic means. In town frequently on business, the entrepreneur was looking for someone to spend time with during the evenings and not really looking for or interested in a long term or serious relationship that would "go somewhere" like pretty much everyone else in Fargo seems to be.
Although I knew it could be dangerous having drinks in or near his hotel, I decided that under no circumstances was I going anywhere near his room so it would be alright to meet there. When he arrived he was fairly good looking, not exceedingly tall, personable, had incredibly curvy biceps peaking out of his short sleeved button up shirt and curly black hair.
I'm a little embarrassed that my first drink made me light headed, but I responsibly ordered pasta to soak up the martini and very casually nursed a beer over the course of dinner while he drank three in rather rapid succession. Dating is a nerve-racking activity so I can understand the need to take the edge off, but he had another reason to be nervous... that's right, he's married.
Now this wasn't some revelation that came up over forkfuls of alfredo, I knew that he was married before I walked into the hotel. He told me very early on in our communications that he has a wife and that he understood if I no longer wanted to meet with him. Having been the victim of OWS (other woman syndrome) myself, the situation piqued my curiosity. Maybe I would be able to in some way tap in to that mentality and understand a little more about how my own marriage unravelled. So when I agreed to meet with him after vigorous debate with myself, I agreed on the basis that it would be platonic. Who knows, maybe he just needed someone to talk to or convince him that it was an all around bad idea to involve a third party in the break up of a marriage. (Yes, I am actually that delusional and optimistic.)
Of course, he asks if I would like to come up and watch a movie, and naturally, he asks out of sheer concern for my well-being if I've had too much to drive, and insists that if I came up nothing would happen. And then after walking me to my car phones me to make sure I got home safely when I had just texted to tell him I had and thanked me for meeting him. And emailed me the next day saying that he really couldn't drink if we went out again because he was having trouble keeping his mind in platonic mode.
All in all, I'm glad that I went, it was insightful and I didn't know what I was going to get out of it and I still don't know what I actually did get out of it save this: maybe marriage is an outdated idea that takes otherwise happy people and makes them feel trapped and when any animal, human or otherwise feels trapped, they all revert to some primitive instinct that makes them claw like hell at the ties that bind.
Monday, August 31, 2009
Heather gets a tattoo
Since the age of about 12 I wanted a tattoo. Well, that's not entirely correct, I was very conflicted about the whole thing because it's permanent- therefore requiring a level of forethought, commitment and endurance (these are all things I struggle with and consequently haven't had much previous success with).
I didn't want anything girly or cliche and I didn't want something that I could even fathom the idea of regretting later. Most importantly, I didn't want it in a place that my dad would see it.
So on January 17th 2008, I had decided to go and book an appointment. Circumstances, experiences and well, just a need to do something all contributed to the decision and I even had a tattoo buddy who was going to get ink with me. Just after I had finished production day for the magazine I worked for at the time, I walked into the tattoo parlor in Stephen's Green Shopping Centre and asked for the appointment. I figured I still had 3 days between Thursday and Saturday to change my mind and forfeit the 50 Euro deposit they needed to book the appointment but to my surprise, the man asked what I wanted and said rather than wait it would only take him 3 minutes to do and to follow him back to the tattooing area.
I selected the Chinese/Japanese symbol for strength and asked him to leave it as just the outline. Very glad that I hadn't decided to wear a skirt that day, I opened the fly of my trousers and pulled them down to show him whereabouts I wanted the calligraphy and he transfered the outline onto my skin right between the cute mole adjacent my navel and my hip bone.
After looking at the transfer in the mirror as per his instructions, I waited for him to say something along the lines of "last chance" but he picked up his needle in his gloved hand and started right in.
The sensation was odd, kind of like a bee-sting that I wanted to swat away for being annoying rather than pain. While sat there, or maybe later, I realized that tattooing and piercing are semi-tolerated forms of self harm probably on the basis that there's an economic interest. Societally we chastise people that hurt themselves intentionally and really that's exactly tattooing is, it punctures, scabs and heals just like any other wound of that nature. It had never before occurred to me that potentially the reason why we chastise people with tattoos is because they're pretty (or scary) self harmers.
The guy drawing on my abdomen wasn't kidding, he was done in three minutes. I looked down at the quarter-sized angry red skin and was far from disappointed. Unlike people who drag razor blades across their bodies to feel some form of control or release from emotional overloads, I now had a tiny symbol of what I think is one of the most important virtues that an individual could seek to attain- strength.
I've pondered adding to the little outline since several other virtues require strength- honesty, faith, love, wisdom, and kindness but I haven't found the commitment yet (or the cash). But every time I see that tiny piece of flesh that I damaged it reminds me that good things can come out of hurtful ones, and that led to thinking of adding a phoenix... but thus far, nothing has warranted that much self harm.
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