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Oh Hello!
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Hello? Is it me you’re looking for? I hope so because I’ve been gone for quite a long time. Last time I was on here I was just as socially awkward but younger, single, and much more unsure of myself. I was trying to find out who I was amidst the twenties New York dating scene, which pretty much dwindled down to: lonely, frustrated, confused, and mildly depressed. Well…A LOT has changed. I’m no longer lonely or confused and I’m only slightly frustrated and depressed. Oh and I’m gay and married. So… how did I get here from swiping hard lefts on weird men? Let me share.
Well before there was the “spectrum of sexuality” we feel so comfortable in now, I had definitely been attracted to women but it wasn’t as accepted as it is today. I had just pushed those feelings aside because I was afraid of being gay because it meant you were different and I desperately tried to fit in even though I just never really did. I didn’t need something additional to put me on the outside looking in. So the closet became my safe space. I was afraid I would have no friends in high school, I was afraid the friends in college that I did have would stop being friends with me, and then by the time I was in my twenties I felt I missed my “college experience” to mess around with girls and now had to find myself a serious boyfriend who was husband material. I had to stay on track so to speak.
This isn’t to say the relationships I had were fake. I had genuine feelings for the men I have dated. The hardest part about meeting a woman I truly loved and coming out was wrapping my head around the fact that I could love a woman and could have loved a man too. I had a hard time validating that my feelings in the past were real. But they were. My first boyfriend was amazing. Was he kind of like a woman? Yes. He had long hair, he gardened, he was sensitive, he played folk guitar, and was a soft passionate lover. But he also had a penis. He looked like a more feminine version of Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club. I learned a lot from that relationship and I can’t just disregard it because I married a woman. He helped me understand that I am lovable and deserve to be treated with respect. Before him I was just hooking up with guys who would use me and he showed me that I didn’t need to just give people my body in order for them to pay attention to me and that attention didn’t mean love. But the best thing he did for me was let me go. When I graduated college he was still attending. I wanted to stay in the relationship because…naive me…I thought I was going to marry him (he was my first boyfriend!). I remember him telling me that I couldn’t stay in Delaware especially for him. I had to move to New York and meet other people and live my life. I am so thankful to this day that he did that…even if he was just trying to get rid of me. Love can be so blinding and I couldn’t see that I would have been miserable in Delaware and we probably wouldn’t have ended up together because we didn’t know each other that well and he doesn’t have a vagina.
So I serial dated my twenties away. Babbling with Bev was a testimony to my experiences. They were pretty much horrific. You can go back and read but overall it was not pleasant. The people I met were not quality people but I did come out with some pretty good stories. I also had no idea who I was or who I wanted to be. I was following a path someone else laid out for me and that’s why I was constantly disappointed and so angry and frustrated. I was dating guys in search of finding a husband because that’s just what you did. I was working at a 9 to 5 job in an office because that’s what you did. I was so unhappy with these choices and never thought to think for myself. Eventually I got so depressed I just stopped doing everything…except visiting Burger King. In my late twenties I went into a deep depression, smoked a lot of pot, and ate a lot of fast food, which makes for a very lonely and sad life. I could barely work let alone meet anyone and as my brother would say, “I looked dead in the eyes”. I was on antidepressants, which weren’t helping, and felt so stuck. I needed change, a kick in the ass, I didn’t know what but something! I’m not sure what it was but celebrating 30 was a turning point and something clicked and my perception shifted. I decided to try a new integrative doctor who combines holistic and western medicine which changed my life. I got diagnosed with leaky gut syndrome (sounds just as awesome as it is), IBS, PCOS, an inability to absorb nutrients from food (super), multiple food allergies/sensitivities including gluten and dairy, all which exacerbate depression and anxiety. So I guess you could say I had a lot going on. Working with the doctor to figure out a nutrition plan, supplements, and exercise plan helped me to feel better and be able to function but I still felt like something was missing.
I started to get back out there and get my life back. Figuring out what I wanted to do for work was priority number one. I tried comedy, writing, working at a temple, a whole bunch of random things but everything led me back to social work. I felt more myself than I had in a while when I got into private practice. This was a great step but I wanted to share my life with someone. So the swiping commenced…again. This time was different though. When I was setting up my profile and preferences I wasn’t on autopilot. For some reason I paused when it came to, “Looking for”. You had three choices: men, women, or men and women (which now I know would not be PC). So I chose both. Why not widen the pool and see what’s out there. What happened next was a huge regression. I began to treat myself as I had before my first boyfriend. I thought all people wanted from me was sex. I was so new in the gay world. I had no idea how to approach women besides in a sexual way. I went on a date with one girl and we hooked up even though we had nothing in common and I swore off women forever. I remember being at my friend’s birthday party and telling my friends the news. I was proud of my experience and excited to tell them which was progress for me. But I was also still uncomfortable with it and spoke about it in a bragging way almost like it was a conquest… like talking about it the way an ahole guy would. Like, “Yo I hooked up with a hot girl last night”. Not cool. I remember complaining though that it wasn’t good and I felt uncomfortable and that it wasn’t for me. One of my friends, the genius that she is, said, “Well why don’t you give someone else a try? Maybe she wasn’t for you?”. The thought hadn’t occurred to me. I thought I had given it a shot so now I could go back to being straight and just file it as one of my crazy sex stories. It took me a month, but after a few more awful dates with guys and feeling like I was just not connecting I started searching again for women.
It was a Sunday morning when I mustered up the courage to contact a cute girl I had matched with on Tinder. It took all my brain power but I managed to come up with the witty message of, “Hey Lauren!” Worked like a charm. Within minutes she asked if I wanted to switch from the app to texting on our phones. From that day on we have texted every single day and four years later we are married. Definitely not without our ups ands downs but for better or worse I found my person. We aren’t perfect. We fight, we are moody, we annoy each other, we see each other at our worst, but we still want to be around and there for each other and love each other more every day. Everything I wanted in a partner was always in front of me but I wasn’t looking for it. I’m so happy I got out of my own way and stopped caring more about what other people thought and cared more about what makes me happy. Even though going through depression and dark times suck, it showed me how resilient I am and led me to the place I am now. It’s not perfect but it’s good and has room to get even better. I’m excited to see where life takes me and excited to be on this journey with my partner in crime.
I guess what I got out of all those bad dates and awkward moments is that it can all lead to a good place. Don’t give up and when you feel stuck then try something new. Until the next babble.
Queen of Awkward Moments
Like the popular section in magazines, who wore awkward best? This is a really hard call since there are so many similarities: similar hideous floral dresses, equally horrible haircuts, and the failed attempt to smile/look happy. They both perfectly capture the look of discomfort that let everyone know how awkward you felt at that age. It’s safe to say that this contest has no winner but I definitely lose since one of these pictures is me.
The upside to being awkward at a young age is that it prepares you for the plethora of awkward moments that are bound to come through out life. Go West might be the “King of Wishful Thinking” but I’m the Queen of Awkward Moments.
Last Saturday was a perfect example. I woke up at 5:00 AM to the sound of pounding on my wall. I got up to see what the hell was going on and was displeased to discover my roommate having hardcore sex in the living room, whipped cream and all. As I turned on the lights we both screamed and I ran back to my room disgusted and weirdly kind of hungry.
I laid there for the rest of the morning pissed off and trying to figure out what I could say. Plenty of aggressive and angry digs came to mind but as time went on I realized that I had to be assertive and just make the best of the situation. I finally decided to come out from hiding and my roommate was cooking in the kitchen. I was mustering up the courage to give the speech I had been working on for the past 5 hours when my roommate asked if we could pretend like nothing happened and assured me it wouldn’t happen again. That seemed a lot easier than going into my courtesy manifesto, so I let it go.
I decided exercising would be a great way to start fresh so I got dressed and went to the gym. I was running on the treadmill listening to my exercise mix filled with rap, hip hop, and mash ups that make you move. I don’t dance on the treadmill but when a song I really like comes on I sometimes run to the beat. Unfortunately as I got really into “Blurred Lines” I lost my footing and went down on the treadmill like a sack of potatoes on a conveyer belt. I slammed into the machine behind me at full force and the entire gym got silent and three employees darted towards me. Everyone wanted to make sure I was ok but the attention was like adding insult to injury at that point. I didn’t need a spotlight on my moment of embarrassment but there was no one working the lights. I assured them that I was fine, gathered my things, and went home. I had no broken bones, my ipod was working so there was nothing really damaged besides my ego. I was used to that by now.
The day dragged on and I had a busy night in the city. I had been MIA for some time and decided to jump back into my social life head first. I had been sick for a while and hadn’t gone out but then I got used to staying in, which was a cycle I was about to break. I got a reminder about a few events people posted on Facebook and realized that a friend, maybe acquaintance would be a better word, I hadn’t seen in years was having a birthday party in the city. I was mapping out my whole night and was feeling good about the social progress I was making. The gym and roommate sex incidents from earlier were fading away and I had hopes that the day would end a lot better than it had started.
I arrived at the bar of the estranged friend and could not find anyone I knew. As I headed towards that back I realized there was another back room where the party was probably taking place. As I entered, I saw my friend along with his immediate and extended family having dinner. When I made eye contact with him he had a look of shock on his face and his family just looked confused. It was too late to pretend I didn’t see him and walk out, so I had to make a grand entrance. I put a smile on my face and went and gave him a big hug. He actually said, “Wow Bev, haven’t seen you in years. Wasn’t expecting you. Good to see you.” It was like I had run into him at a random bar. Thanks for the comforting words and letting me know I was accidentally invited! I had to sit there for an hour while his family interviewed me. I was mortified. It was like being on a bad first date. Unwelcoming questions, checking your watch to see if you stayed an acceptable amount of time, and just a feeling of discomfort that spreads through out your body. Finally after an hour I said I had to go to another birthday party and hugged him goodbye. His mother was so sweet and gave me a hug and went to give me a kiss on the cheek but got me smack on the lips instead. As if the situation wasn’t embarrassing enough. Red faced and in a hurry, I left the bar.
I grabbed a cab to go to the next event on my list and the driver actually looked into the rearview mirror and asked with concern, “Are you ok”? I was still trying to process what had just happened but mumbled, “Yeah. East Village please.” Onto the next circus.
I arrived at my destination and found myself surrounded by nameless bars in the hipster abyss of Alphabet City. Why was it so cool to have a bar that doesn’t put the name anywhere in sight? I walked back and forth down the block several times. I gave up and decided that the bar on the corner seemed the most likely to hold a party, so I walked in and everyone looked at me like I had 7 heads. When I stopped and took a look around I realized that I was crashing not only an engagement party but a toast the parents were giving to the happy couple. I apologized profusely, probably making it worse, and then ran out of the bar. I tried the tiny bar next door and of course that was where my friend’s party was. I saw someone I knew as I walked in and they said, “There you are! I saw you outside passing the bar like 10 times but then you disappeared.” Thanks for the heads up! It was really good to see her and my friend, the birthday girl, but she was bouncing around the bar making the rounds. I went to go to the bathroom and as I was crossing the bar, a group of girls entered and I was trapped. It turns out it was all the girls I went to camp with when I was younger. No one was rude but there also wasn’t a steady flow of conversation. After the “Hi! How are you’s” I had nothing to say. It was a lot of standing there saying “Yeah…so” and then dead silence until the other person would make up an excuse to get out of the situation. Why am I so terrible at small talk? I could have just said,”I have to go to the bathroom. It was good seeing you”, but no. I had to be the awkward person that just stands there. I finally got a hold of the birthday girl and got a chance to talk to her. Her new work friend cornered me and asked if I would go have a cigarette with her. I took this as my chance to bounce so I said yes. I said my goodbyes to the birthday girl and headed out with her coworker. I had no idea what I was getting myself into.
It was freezing outside. She was blowing smoke in my face as she began the story of her new found love affair with an orthodox Jewish colleague from Miami. I didn’t know this girl’s name but I did know that she was horny, scared of a commitment, and wanted advice on how to proceed. Before I could come up with some sort of answer she hugged me and asked if we could be best friends. I didn’t answer. As I stood there while this girl was hugging me to the point of suffocation, a drunk girl and her friends walk by and she says, “OMG! You guys are the cutest couple ever!”. And on that note I broke up the pow wow, got a cab, and headed home.
I was happy to be in the social scene again, but when I was MIA I didn’t have to deal with these weird people or awkward moments. No wonder I didn’t go out for so long. I wasn’t expecting to have the best night of my life but I also wasn’t expecting the most awkward one either. I guess when I come back, I really come back. I was a bit tipsy and decided to get Burger King as a consolation prize. I was scarfing down BK in the elevator when the door opened. I went to step out and slammed into my roommate and partner in sex who were trying to get in. There was just staring and a look of disgust on their faces. With a full mouth I said, “Excuse me”, pushed through them, and proudly walked towards my apartment. When I reached my door I couldn’t find my keys. Fuck! Obviously I locked them in the apartment. I attempted to break in using a credit card when my neighbor, with a disapproving look, found me drunk and struggling. My credit card broke in half and I wound up sleeping on my strange neighbor’s couch instead of swallowing my pride and calling my roommate. I had to listen to Enya the whole night and woke up to him and his boyfriend staring at me on the couch.
After the creepy wake up call I decided to try my luck at my apartment. I pounded on the door and a grumpy roommate opened the door and had the balls to tell me I was being rude! I was so tired and embarrassed from the past 24 hours that I just walked straight into my room, fell face first into bed, and slept for 8 hours.
I felt revived after my nap. But then the events from the day before began to replay in my head. I had a feeling of embarrassment in my gut that wouldn’t go away. I opened a drawer and found my fifth grade picture and it weirdly made me feel better. It was reassuring in the sense that if I could make it through that bout of awkwardness then I can recover from anything. It is surprising how time can heal all wounds and by the next morning I felt so much better.
But as sure as the sun rises, more awkward moments will come my way and I will think, “Holy shit. What is wrong with me?” But I will look back at that picture and reflect on my past embarrassing moments and realize it’s not that bad and I will come out even stronger.
In the spirit of Thanksgiving, I am thankful for my resilience and ability to make the best of awkward situations. And hey, they do make great stories. Until the next post!
Happy Holidays!
-Bev
how i met my first date
Now I can’t forget my first date!
With wedding season in full swing and being the token single girl at every event, it’s hard not to think about dating. Hearing all the stories about how each couple met, I started thinking about the story of how I will meet my future husband. Nothing came to mind except the insane story of how I met my first date.
This story is legen-wait for it-dary! And it’s a good representation of my dating experiences thus far. I may have a cute story when I get married of how I met my husband but my kids will probably know this story just as well.
I started dating on the older side having been too shy and awkward in high school to flirt with a guy let alone go on a date. Being the “cool girl friend” was more my thing. “She’s like a dude” was something I actually took as a compliment and was the only straw I could grab at. So when I finally had my first date I was really nervous.
First, let’s start with how I came to meet this Prince Charming. I was at dinner with a friend when I started to feel a little under the weather. We were finishing up when she got a call from her cousin who was at a bar right near her apartment. So we finished dinner and headed to the bar. I started to sweat and heard my stomach making weird noises as we got out of the cab. I decided to go up to her apartment while she met up with her cousin, Joe, and I’d catch up with them when I felt a little better.
I was so sick in the bathroom when I heard the door open. My friend had come back with Joe and a friend. Perfect. Her bathroom was directly next to her living room and you could hear everything. I was trying to get myself together but was still feeling horrible. Fifteen minutes passed then 25 minutes. I felt like I had to wait it out until they left. It was embarrassing at that point to just walk out of the bathroom after a half hour and be like, “Oh, there you guys are. I’ve been looking everywhere!”. It’s not like it was my apartment either where I could pretend I was in my room. All of a sudden my friend tried to open the bathroom door and I slammed it shut. She said, “Sorry Bev, I forgot you were here”. Then you hear men’s voices saying, “Who’s Bev?” Those bastards blew up my spot. I washed up, threw some water on my face, put the fan on. Nothing helped. I walked out so awkwardly trying my best to ignore how terrible I felt and forced a smile. Thankfully the guys were drunk and didn’t notice or care at the moment.
I was cornered on the small couch by her cousin’s friend who was talking to me an inch from my face. As he rambled on about something (I could not follow his story), I kept imagining how I must have looked- sweaty with a really uncomfortable look on my face. The guy was decent looking and nice enough but seemed like he had a screw or two loose. He reminded me of Cliff O’Malley (Lochlyn Munro) from “Dead Man On Campus”. I thought he was going to chant, “My name is Cliff. Brother of Joe. Got me some crack. Want me some hoes”. He didn’t but he did open a beer and then flick the cap directly into my friend’s eye. She was bleeding from it and he just laughed at first. Then he felt really bad and tried to help by getting her a cold compress for her eye. Instead he slammed the tray of ice cubes into her face and got ice all over the floor. On top of that my situation was not improving so I figured this was a good time to sneak out. I was trying to make my way out as discretely as possible but he popped out of nowhere as I got toward the door. He would not let me say goodbye and despite my pleading, insisted on escorting me to a cab.
Next thing I knew he was standing next to me in the elevator. I was desperately trying to act casual but I was so scared I was going to fart or vomit on him. The intense awkward silence didn’t help. As we approached the lobby he asked for my number. I felt put on the spot so I gave it to him. It was raining out so he decided to back out of the grand gesture and headed back upstairs. He opted for the “shout down the hall” goodbye because he couldn’t wait the extra minute for the elevator to come back down. I was too sick and delirious to care about how weird the past two hours had been and found myself a cab. I did not think in a million years he would contact me after that.
I was half right. He didn’t contact me afterwards until about 3 weeks later. He texted me to see if I wanted to get dinner that weekend. I was really weary about going on a date with this guy. I wasn’t sure if my instincts were right in that he was a chromosome short or I was just nervous to go on a date. His behavior was so inconsistent and I was so out of it the night I had met him that I wasn’t sure if my perception of him had been off. So I agreed to meet him for coffee and felt that was a safe first date.
The date. I arrived a few minutes late and when I finally got to the correct Starbucks, after multiple attempts, I found out that I was a third wheel on my own date. At the table was my date and a familiar face, my friend’s cousin, Joe. My date smiled and waved but didn’t get up to say hi. Joe and I had the most awkward hello. We both went to give a kiss on the cheek and had the embarrassing back and forth before almost kissing on the lips. I sat down and there was silence. I was blushing from embarrassment and couldn’t really pay attention to the conversation or lack thereof. I can talk to a wall but this was painful. Joe was trying his best to get my date involved in the conversation but you could see how uncomfortable he was being there. Who takes a friend on a date? I decided to go get coffee. All my date said was, “Cool.” He didn’t want anything and didn’t offer to get me something, go with me, or God forbid pay. So I got up and paid for my coffee. I got back to the table and sat down. The guys were talking but that faded quickly into another batch of silence. My date grumbled something about a bar. I had just gotten my coffee and wanted to finish it. Joe tried to escape but my date protested and screamed, “No!” and grabbed at his jacket. He really knows how to make a girl feel special. So Joe sat back down and we started talking again. About three seconds later my date interrupts us by pounding on the table and says, “We need to get to a bar now.” He said it around 10 times in a row until we agreed to find one.
We get to the bar and he immediately got himself a drink. Again, he didn’t offer to get me anything. I ordered a soda and he got annoyed that I wasn’t drinking. I didn’t want to pay or commit to the time it would take to have a drink so I opted for something quick and easy. It was a different location but same situation. Joe and I were attempting small talk again while my date downed drinks. He slammed the glass on the bar and goes, “What is the best thing about twenty eight year old girls?” I said, “What?” He said, “There are twenty of them.” The music had faded out towards the end of the joke so it was really quiet in the bar. People were staring and giving us dirty looks. He didn’t laugh or make eye contact, he just went back to being silent. Joe looked so embarrassed and was awkwardly laughing. I took the pedophile joke as my cue to leave. I said, “It was really nice to meet you but I have to get going.” He just replied with bye. Joe had to be like, “You’re not going to walk her to the door?” He said, “No I’m good”. Then he begrudgingly got up and walked towards the door. I turned to say bye and he was in my face trying to kiss me. Seriously?? My fight or flight reaction kicked in and I tried to flee but tripped over the rug by the door, fell and cut myself. He headed straight back to the bar and left me annoyed, injured, and with a deep skepticism of dating. I may have bled out of my knee, but I popped my dating cherry and finally was no longer a virgin to the dating scene.
My first date seems pretty on par with how my dating life panned out. My story certainly set the bar for horrible dates. Hopefully that was the worst, although I have had some pretty close seconds. Who knows, maybe at one of these weddings I’ll meet the man of dreams and have a cute story to tell my children. But for now I’ll just stick with how I met my first/worst date.
Like sex, dating gets better with time even though there are some bad experiences along the way. It’s what you make of the bad dates that determines how well the next one will go. That’s why I choose to find the humor in the situation rather than focus on how traumatic it was or could have been.
Continuing to make lemons into limoncello.
-Bev
Johnny Be Bad…And Stupid.
WARNING: OVERSIZED LOAD AND EGO. THIS IMAGE MAY CAUSE BRAIN DAMAGE.
Who couldn’t resist a charmer like Johnny? With his ripped body, nut hugger tighty whities, and orange complexion it’s a wonder he’s 44 years old on a dating site. Not only does this Adonis have style, he has a killer personality and is ultra smooth with the ladies.
Yesterday I saw the notification that I had a message waiting from an admirer. I went to find out what this Don Juan wrote me. He certainly caught my attention.
If that doesn’t whisk a girl off her feet I don’t know what does. Oh wait, I do…anything else! I had to see what this guy was about. I checked out his profile and this message became even more ridiculous when I did some reconnaissance.
He likes monkeys, has great personal hygiene, and has one interest…tennis. I’m sure he almost went pro with that body and personality. Opportunities like this don’t come along very often so I made sure to take full advantage. I responded in the above message correspondence. I couldn’t have wished for a better response (below).
He responded, “You have extra mayo”. I’m not really sure what that’s supposed to mean but by my powers of deduction I assume he was hungry? His primitive nature was really attractive but I think a compatible mate might be a Chimp. The Chimp may be smarter but at least they’re on the same playing field. Maybe the monkey in the picture was his ex? I had my fun with him, but he was getting annoying and I am sure he was harassing others as well so I reported him. About an hour later I received this:
Is this Neanderthal serious? Did he really think a backhanded compliment was the best way to court a woman? Then on top of that, did he think adding insulting comments to try to make her feel self conscious and insecure was going to seal the deal? Newsflash genius: you just became the story that every girl will publicize as the worst attempt at dating.
I know I’m not the first and certainly not the last girl who will encounter this beast. I just wonder if anyone ever took the bait? My guess is no. But what puzzles me the most is why anyone would think that this approach would be a good idea. I’ll give him one thing. He did engage me but mostly because I needed new material for a blog that he has no idea I’m writing. Luckily I’m comfortable with myself but to other women who are on these sites, that can cause a serious case of low self esteem. And to that I say F*CK this guy.
This reminds me once again of my previous blog about men’s overcompensation and low self esteem, “He’s Just Not That Into Himself: A Guide To Men’s Overcompensation”. Clearly this guy has a screw loose among other things. His attempt to knock women down a peg is so that someone could be on his level. Unfortunately it would take a thousand pegs for anyone to be close. People like Johnny- those with a horrible personality, no respect for themselves (first picture featured), low IQ (who in their 40’s can’t spell sandwich), and no interests or ambition- bully people into being friends or dare I say romantic relationships. Surprisingly his classy approach doesn’t work well. He’d be a great addition to a trilogy of “The 44 Year Old Virgin”. He definitely has social issues, no game, and I would bet my right arm he has never gotten laid let alone kissed a girl. Maybe he’s just barking up the wrong tree? Beasteality exists for a reason and although commonly looked down upon, I think this might be the yellow brick road to his happiness.
I do have to thank him for actually raising my self esteem. If I ever feel sorry for myself, I just have to remember Johnny’s extremely pathetic existence and I will bounce back in no time. I am not going to bash him anymore because I’m starting to think he has some developmental delay, in addition to being an a**hole, since all his attempts were highly juvenile for someone his age.
If anyone is looking for a catch like this, Johnny’s “due” and has included his contact info. You better get in touch soon because that guy won’t be around for long. It’s a matter of time until he’s locked up behind bars, whether it is in prison or a zoo.
Thanks Johnny! It’s been a pleasure exposing you. Onto the next freak!
-Bev
Donna Chang. Meet Joe Mingsberg.
Spring has sprung and tis the season for spring cleaning. With the warm sunny weather and everyone coming out of hibernation, it seems like the perfect time to swap out the old and replace it with something new and in season. People are looking to get out of the house or escape from work which is ideal for meeting new people and starting new relationships. In the spirit of spring cleaning, I have cleared out some lingering baggage and (potentially) toxic relationships and made room for a fresh start and some sanity. Goodbye bad habits. Hello happy life!
In my attempt to add positivity to my life, I have decided to be more open minded, particularly when it comes to meeting new people. I’m still not going to just date anyone, but I can put a little more effort into getting to know someone before I make snap decisions about their personality. With the nice weather came an influx of messages from potential suitors. Despite my best efforts to be open minded, I found something wrong with almost every single person, their profile, or their message. Here is a sample of what I encountered:
- I got a message from “NiceBunz”. The message was deleted by the time I finished reading his user name.
- I got a message from ESLSuperstar (He is a 3rd grade ESL teacher, way to take the one good aspect about yourself and turn it into a narcissistic user name). His message read, “Hi. What’s your AIM/YIM/SKYPE/Gchat sns?” Would you like my social security number as well? I figured he works with kids so he can’t be that bad. Wrong! Here are a few things I noticed within the first few seconds of reading his profile: He believes in gender equality, “I wouldn’t say I’m an old fashioned guy except in one sense: When we make a date, I expect it to be kept. I expect to see you at the time and place we agreed upon. I prefer the woman be submissive in the relationship. Bonus points for gourmet chefs.” What do I get if I also happen to be a professional housekeeper and launderer? His rant about his ultra progressive views and expectations of relationships continued, “If you’re not serious about meeting within a few days, then don’t waste my time. I’m not interested in hearing about how you won’t give me your number because you’ve had “bad experiences” in the past. If you’re serious about making a date, you’ll have no problem giving me your number the first time we talk. NO exceptions!“. If that didn’t seal the deal…this did. When asked, “Assume you have a homosexual friend who is the same gender as you. Would you be uncomfortable if they hugged you?“. He chose, “Only if it was more than friendly” and to prove his heterosexuality he added a response underneath, “I don’t have gay friends since I don’t hang out in that circle.” ESLDouche deleted.
- I went ahead and saved the best for last. I got a message from a guy with the name Joe Mingsberg. He didn’t have a picture, which would usually be an automatic delete, but he explained that he had just joined the site and his picture was still being approved. I checked out his profile and it seemed pretty good. He is 32 from NYC. He is an accountant by day and comedic writer by night. His favorite food/meal is a bagel and schmear and he LOVES Woody Allen’s schtick. I didn’t know if he was exaggerating the cliches because he was Jewish or he was just all about the Jewish stereotypes. I responded to his message with the usual details that are included in an introductory conversation. I noticed in his profile that his friends call him a Lactard (a nickname for a person with lactose intolerance) and told him I got called that in sleep away camp. He responded with, “Oy! The curse of the Jewish stomach!”. I fully pictured this guy to be a Hassid from Brooklyn with a Yiddish accent coming off his shift from B & H. I didn’t respond back. The next morning I woke up and saw I had a new message from a different suitor. When I went to my message inbox I noticed that Joe Mingsberg had a picture and when I looked I did a double take.
I got reverse Donna Chang’d. This guy was just like the character Donna Chang from an episode of Seinfeld. Before they saw what she looked like she came across as an Asian woman due to her name, words of wisdom, reference to Confucius, and pronouncing L’s like R’s. Mingsberg did the same exact thing! He portrayed himself as a Jew in every sense. It didn’t say anywhere that he was actually Jewish but the Yiddish and all the Jewish stereotypes were pointing to YES. Did they change his last name from Ming to Mingsberg so they could sound more Jewish? As curious as I was to meet this guy in person, I already had great material from him and I decided to quit while I was ahead.
So much for my fresh start. I can only control myself so I am going to continue on my journey for positive experiences. But with the good comes the bad and if this is the worst of it, I am ok with that. Plus, I had the Chang experience. Anything is worth that.
Thank you Larry David for writing that character and inadvertently making this online dating fiasco a hilarious story.
Until next time.
-Bev
F*CK, MARRY, CLIFF…PICKING THE LESSER OF THREE EVILS
It’s slim pickings nowadays in the online dating world. I think the picture above says it all. I have not been going on many dates lately because I have been contacted by creepy, creepier, and creepiest. They just progressively get worse. It’s extremely discouraging and further supports my previous sentiments about online dating but for some reason I am still on the website. I can’t complain, I have gotten some great stories out of it and pictures to boot.
As I looked through the visitors who contacted me, the game Fuck, Marry, Cliff came to mind. Your friend would name either 3 really awesome people or 3 really awful people and you’d have to pick who you would fuck, who you would marry, and who you would throw off a cliff. I know it’s a sick game but I didn’t make it up and most people have played it at some point in their life. So the picture above reminded me of that game and my immediate reaction was to throw myself off the cliff…in every scenario. I’m sure some of them are great people but that doesn’t mean I have any interest. Especially when the first impression is an embarrassing screen name, questionable picture, and/or a boring or uncomfortable message.
Let’s examine the average visitor who contacts me from the random sample above. Okay, Papi Da S. is the least harmless but anyone who refers to themselves in third person as Papi will probably not be my soulmate. So let’s start with TD. Was this glamour shot taken before the Key Club Intergenerational Prom or is this just business cas? Between the tux with the coattails and using the word fancy in his greeting (especially when it is asking if I would be interested in doing something) that’s already two strikes at first glance. Let’s move onto the next Don Juan, Graffin65. For some reason I automatically assume he’s had a skin graft from looking at his screen name and picture. Maybe a name change would be advisable. Nevertheless, he looks like a solid candidate…for a free meth clinic. Besides the fact that he was probably tweaking in Tompkins Square Park when I was born, he’s almost 20 years older than me. That would be fine except for the fact that my profile explicitly says I’m looking for someone 28-36. He was only about a decade off…give or take. I hope he is on drugs if simple mathematics is a struggle at 48 years old. I don’t know if we’ve saved the best for last but EagleCross is certainly special. What really sealed the deal for me was his 1987 Miami Vice getup and the stimulating conversation, “Hi”. I hope he’s not depending on his wit and good fashion sense to win people over.
Since I’m not someone who avidly looks for dates, I usually only go on the site when someone messages me. Unfortunately, the characters above are the usual suspects contacting me so last time I took a glance at the visitors section. I came across a really disturbing profile that put everything into perspective. Warning: This may not be appropriate for people with sight.
Yes, that is a tattoo of Jesus and Lucifer on his chest. Yes, he drinks water on the reg and was a cheerleader in high school. He’s one bad ass cheerleader. His pictures may be disturbing but his sob story about his Miniature Dachshund, which seems like an appropriate breed for him, brought some depth and humanity to his character. His entire profile was one big cliche but I highlighted the most important parts. He wasn’t even the weirdest guy just the most notable that looked at my profile in the past day. This made the list of guys who contacted me look better and better each second. I might have to reevaluate that Fuck, Marry, Cliff game…or just wait until someone who seems like a viable option contacts me.
The one thing I do appreciate about the Goth Cheerleader is that he is realistic. I think he could tell that we probably weren’t a good fit just by looking at pictures and my profile. I may have a tattoo on my chest of a devil’s pitchfork busting through a Star of David and only wear leather chaps on Saturdays, but that’s private. He could probably tell his hair band facade was too hard core for me. Seriously though, these sites are supposed to be convenient AND help you to avoid meeting someone who has nothing in common with you. That’s what the short profile is for. No, my profile does not capture all of me but it is a good starting point to see if we have similar interests and are attracted to each other. I give a good enough description of who I am and clearly state what I’m looking for. If you’re too lazy to read or just don’t care then you better have something amazing to grab my attention. “You’re pretty” and “Hi” don’t quite cut it. You need to be smart, witty, or so handsome that I couldn’t refuse a date. All three separately are pretty rare so hoping for a triple threat is pretty unrealistic.
That’s all I’m asking for. Some realistic expectations. I don’t think I’m Bar Refaeli but I’m also not contacting someone that looks like David Beckham. There’s being bold and having courage to contact someone, which I fully support. And then there’s being completely out of your league. This is not determined just on looks but intelligence, morals, and interests. Opposites do attract but there’s at least something that holds a common bond. So to improve your chances and your self esteem, a good rule is to list three things about the person you like or interests you (besides thinking they’re hot and wanting to bang them) before you make contact or respond.
So if you ever find yourself picking the lesser of two, three, or four evils, do nothing. Don’t settle! Someone good for you is out there and if not online then somewhere. Adjust your expectations of yourself and others and the dating process gets better. I’ve recently done this for myself and I am actually talking to a few guys with potential. Now at least I’m having conversations and going on dates with people that I actually want to meet. If it goes horribly wrong then at least my readers have something to laugh about.
To everyone celebrating Passover, Easter, and Holi- Cheers! To staying away from the cliff and finding someone you can fuck and marry! Happy Holidays!
-Bev
Stalking Is The New Black
Stalking is the new black. Everyone’s doing it! Why? Because it’s extremely convenient thanks to the Internet. Between websites like Facebook, Google, Linked In, and dating sites, a total stranger can know intimate details about your life.
The web allows us to get information at the touch of a button, which has many benefits. It’s really helpful for employment, for example. Whether it’s applying for a job online, posting your resume or CV on a site, or using a contact’s profile to find out their job history, interests, and some personal background. If you are savvy you can apply this knowledge to find common ground and use that in your communication or approach. The same can be said for dating. Let’s say your friend wants to set you up or you are talking to someone of interest online, you can look that person up immediately by going to Facebook or Google. Having a little bit more insight about a person is never a bad idea and eases your nerves and hesitation.
But on the flip side, this instant access is a lazy stalker’s dream. Stalking used to involve intelligence, motivation, preparation, and movement of some sort. Now, any Tom, Dick, or Harry within reach of a computer can find information about your family, location, employment, friends, interests, and the list goes on. Put in the wrong hands this can be very dangerous as well as a pain in the ass. Unfortunately I have had the pleasure of dealing with a semi-stalker.
I received a Facebook message from some guy who knew two random people I am “friends” with on the site. I’m not sure if he thought I was blind or stupid but he pointed out that we had two friends in common. I am a nice person so I answered but the only appropriate response I could think of was, “Cool”. After about 10 minutes I get another message, “You’re really beautiful. Do you have a boyfriend?” I figured I’m single and this isn’t SO different from online dating so I told him I was not dating at the moment. BIG MISTAKE. He proceeded to ask when we were going to go on a date. One thing I learned from social work is that you need to set boundaries and expectations right away in any relationship. So I replied that I am single but not looking for anything serious. He said of course but then proceeded to joke about how he wanted to marry me, more than once. It made me a little uncomfortable but I figured he was just joking.
His picture was a headshot so I wanted to see what he really looked like. I went to his profile but it was blocked. I “friended” him and he would not accept. I’m thinking why does some guy who wants to date me not want me to see what he looks like? Maybe because someone who asks you out over Facebook is usually a creep. But, as I pointed out in an earlier post about men’s low self esteem, He’s Just Not That Into You…Or Himself, he was just extremely insecure. He told me how he was a few pounds bigger than his picture and didn’t want me to see him until he lost weight, so he wanted to wait for two weeks. Was this guy taking Jack’s magic beans? You’re still going to be heavier in two weeks. His irrational thinking on top of his creepiness should have deterred me but I was lonely and trying to be open minded. Also, he owned a chain of well-known supermarkets, that will remain nameless, and said he worked on the corporate end. I figured he has a good job, isn’t completely poor which was different for me, and maybe his pictures were worse than he was in person. So we decided to hang out as friends so there was no pressure.
The meet up was very relaxed and we just talked, had a beer, and other herbal refreshments. At first he seemed funny but then he began to brag about how much money he had and his apartment on the Upper West side and then all of a sudden got really intense and he started to cry. I don’t mean a tear, like a full fledge meltdown. Being a social worker, I am always apt to try and help someone through a tough time so I sat and spoke to him for hours about his life problems. He went on about how much he loves his mother and misses her and no girl will ever live up to her (she’s still alive), how he has no friends, trust issues, and is extremely sensitive…everything you want to share with someone you just met. He was able to self soothe and calm down as I checked my watch repeatedly. I broke up the party and said I had to go and he asked if I wanted to hang out again. I wasn’t feeling this guy but he obviously didn’t deal well with rejection and I didn’t want to do that to him or unleash a psychopath on myself. I was upfront and told him I would go but I didn’t think our relationship could go beyond a friendship and he said he’d be happy to have another friend. Maybe since he didn’t have any friends he didn’t know what that meant.
A few weeks later, I was extremely stressed and busy as I was producing a pilot. I would receive a text everyday from him, some disturbing message like “Hey Wifey”, “Can you get me a job?” (what happened to your fancy apartment and supermarket chain), and “I really wish I was with you right now”. I hung out with him that weekend to get him off my back. We went to dinner and I paid for my portion and didn’t hold his hand or kiss him when he made those attempts. I’m not sure how I could have been more clear that I was not interested. I was home and in bed at 11:00 PM on a Saturday night. That’s obviously not the sign of a great date (if that’s what he thought it was). I didn’t contact him after that since we were getting close to the shooting date. He would hound me every day through Facebook, Text, Email, et cetera and I didn’t get back to him immediately because I was working 24/7. I then get a ridiculous email from him saying, “You are such a tease. You’re just like every other Jappy girl in New York City”. Instead of just ignoring him and leaving it, I felt I had to defend myself.
A) I am not a Jap.
B) I don’t live in New York City.
C) I could not have been more straight-forward about only wanting to be friends.
I explained to him that I don’t have time right now for anyone including myself. I was working like crazy and barely had slept. And then pointed out that if he was a friend or ever wanted to be in a relationship then he had to support people in their work. This was my dream becoming a reality and some guy who I met on Facebook a week before was not going to change that. He then said, “Well I thought I was part of that dream. You lead me on so much”. WOW. How could you be part of my dream? I just met you, explicitly said that I was not looking for a relationship, and warded off attempts to become intimate. Look for the signs buddy. They were all there. Sorry you don’t have a job and have some major ADHD along with a debilitating emotional problem.
But I took the high road and said I was sorry he felt that way but I did nothing wrong and he can’t be mad at me for concentrating on work. He then pointed out that I went out a few nights before. That’s when it got a little freaky. Someone had posted pictures from a birthday I went to a few weeks earlier and since he was stalking my profile he immediately assumed I had gone out and was just avoiding him. He had good foresight but that was not the case at the moment. He then threatened to hurt himself because of people like me. Called me a bunch of names including a “harlot” and deactivated his account. About a week later I get a message from him being like, “Hey what’s up Wifey?”. I did not respond. He continued to contact me until a month later FINALLY getting the hint.
I am starting to see why Sting and The Police wrote so many songs about stalkers. I’ll Be Watching You and Don’t Stand So Close To Me have a whole new meaning. Like Hansel, I don’t really listen to Sting’s music but the fact that he understands my experience, I respect him. I’d like to see the relationship between Sting fans and the occurrence of restraining orders filed against them. My bet is they would have a positive relationship.
Lesson learned. Never again will I befriend or meet someone in person from Facebook unless I knew he/she prior to the Friend request. Or date someone that wants to marry their mother. Either way I’m done dealing with psychos.
Maybe if Supermarket Boy been an old school stalker he wouldn’t have the weight problem that may have caused the extreme emotional issues. He was going to be a psycho either way but at least he could have been a healthy and fit psycho. Just because you are a creep doesn’t mean you have to totally give up! Sidenote: He wore sweatpants the first time I met him.
In the spirit of stalking, I need to head into the city since one of my favorite actresses is in the same part of Mexico. Dee Reynolds, I’m coming for ya! But don’t worry, I’m an active and harmless stalker. I’ll just follow you, buy you drinks and take your picture…the honorable way of stalking.
-Bev
Don’t Judge A Book By It’s Cover…Unless It’s “Mein Kampf”
We’re always told, “Don’t judge a book by it’s cover” and I’m here to tell you to judge it. Yes, when you are literally talking about a book maybe that advice applies but when referring to people the proverb doesn’t quite hold water. The famous phrase isn’t “Love at first good conversation” for a reason. As shallow as it sounds, attraction is the initial driving force in a relationship. I’m not saying someone’s personality can’t help or be a deal breaker, but looks are definitely important, especially in the beginning.
A picture says a thousand words and they’re not all necessarily benevolent. There is a creep factor that seems to seep through pictures if you are in fact a creep. It’s this little thing we like to call intuition. If someone looks off, they most likely are off. However, I grew up being told to give people chances regardless of looks because attraction is something that can develop. Yes, maybe if you were friends first or met in person, but online it’s better to be safe than sorry.
I have already given a few examples of my tumultuous relationship with dating, but here’s another one that supports my argument:
For this round of online dating I have really been trying to find someone with similar interests and what can be perceived as a good personality (from the little information you have on a website) and a good match for me. This guy contacted me and my first reaction to his pictures was a weird feeling in my gut. I decided that I needed to be open minded and look at the whole profile and to my surprise I was actually laughing out loud. *Side note: If you can make me laugh, it’s pretty much a guarantee I’ll give you a shot.* I replied and we had some good banter back and forth. Some questionable areas of conversation arose about family and upbringing. The only person he has a relationship with is his Dad and he moved around his whole life (a ton in recent years) so he did not have a huge family or social circle. That should have been my second red flag after my gut reaction.
Despite the fact that my creep alarm was on high alert, I agreed to meet him. My rationalization was that I am looking for a relationship so being open to different people and situations is part of the deal. Much to my dismay, the date didn’t go well from the very beginning.
I was pulling up to the restaurant in my car trying to find parking when I saw this really short guy flipping his hair, like Justin Beiber, in a full Adidas sweatsuit and what looked like K Swiss sneakers. I, of course, knew this was my date and again my stomach sank a little. I found parking and walked up to him as he kept doing the hair flip. As he turned toward me, it was like I was staring at the poster child for the Aryan race with what appeared to be a boil on his face the size of a walnut. Awesome. Off to another great start!
So we sit down to dinner in an overly crowded but, thankfully, dimly lit area of the restaurant. For a few minutes we did have a good conversation and some laughs (if a third party came along they would think we were having a great date). We started talking about holidays with the family and how he had missed that growing up. I actually felt bad and thought maybe he was a good person with a bad sense of style and skin problems. Wrong, I began to talk about one of my family’s Passover seders when he asked what a seder was. I explained that I’m Jewish and on Passover we have a seder and gave him a quick history behind it. He then replied, “Oh you’re Jewish?”. After that things went downhill. I kept staring at the boil as he spoke of his family roots. Immediately after I declared my Jew status, he informed me that his grandparents were most likely Nazis in Germany, and said this while smiling. The creep vibe started to spread through out my body as the conversation spiraled to a crashing stop. I thought, am I really desperate enough to be taking dates with Hitler Youth?
Love may be blind but unfortunately so is desperation. All the signs were there to begin with. Had I just trusted my intuition, I could have avoided this confusing/alarming date with the boiled faced anti-semite. He had the appearance of a German Men’s Junior soccer player and the essence of a rapist. Combine that with the Nazi ancestry and I was pretty much in hell. I now have a rule that if I have a gag reflex to your picture, for any reason, I’m moving onto the next contestant.
Dating should be mostly fun and giving everyone under the sun a chance does not do you any good. It’s admirable to not be shallow or materialistic but I rather not have to deal with a neo Nazi with a penchant for nomadic living. I’m starting to theorize that his moving around was not a coincidence! Let’s just say the FBI’s most wanted list now has more meaning in my life.
Basically, if the picture is not up to par then the person probably isn’t either. It’s good to take pride in how you look and present yourself, even in a profile. It says a lot about you and is a good way to separate the possible mates from the improbable. Plus if you’re attracted from just a picture and profile…that’s not a bad sign. Use caution when: A person has only one picture that is a self pic, far away shots, mug shots (or anything resembling), or has a picture that causes a physical reaction. Those are warning signs to stay away. Ignoring them does not make you a better person and will most likely involve an awkward or uncomfortable situation that leaves you right where you started. Maybe a little bit more disturbed but still single and looking.
So the decision is up to you. Judge a book by it’s cover or don’t. But ask yourself this, do you really want to be the face on the milk carton?
Until the next charmer,
Bev
He’s Just Not That Into Himself…A Guide to Men’s Overcompensation
There is a misconception that women are the insecure gender. Yes, girls criticize themselves and are socialized to believe if we’re not supermodels then we’re not attractive or perfect just the way we are. But what about men? No one ever discusses the insecurities that plague men because if a guy shows weakness he’s looked down upon or called a pussy. By no means do I want a guy who is crying all the time but being in touch with your feelings is not a bad thing! How can you be secure if you are not honest with how you feel about yourself? The answer is NOT all men are secure.
I didn’t conduct an experiment with a control group but my exposure to men has lead me to this conclusion. Since I began online dating again, I’ve noticed that most of the guys I am talking to have something in common, low self esteem. However, it would not appear that way to the naked eye. Many come off as cocky and overcompensate whether it’s how much money they have or how far along in their career they believe they are. But it’s those little comments and gestures that blow their poker face.
Let me give you a clear example:
I was talking to this guy, we’ll call him Peter Griffin (explanation to follow), and he immediately asked me if I liked his pictures. Peter had actually contacted me on another site a few years back and used the same pictures so I knew these were not recent. There was the first hint of deception. The old picture. This will probably come up in every post but, come on, if you don’t look like your picture then don’t post it! Then he asked me if I look like my pictures. He pressed this topic for a while as I reassured him I wasn’t a 56 year old man pleasuring himself at the public library computer. He kept talking about how we were both really good looking people (and pointed out how people tell him he’s handsome all the time). He then pat himself on the back for his sexual prowess. Peter noted quite a few times how long he could go for yet he hadn’t asked for my name yet. I agreed to go out with him because he lives close and has a Labradoodle (as do I). I thought, if nothing else, I would have another friend at the dog park.
The date. Peter Griffin took me to a cafe that was cute but more so for meeting an old friend for coffee. This was Saturday night and the nicest meal they had on the menu was a burger and fries. But he was classy, he brought champagne, Korbel, and had it chilling for my arrival. As I expected, he did not look like his pictures. Coincidently his first question was, “So, do I look like my pics?”. What am I supposed to say? No, you have less hair, are 50 pounds heavier, and might be batting for the other team. Then he went on to tell me about his new exercise regimen and low carb diet (he offered me some dieting tips…yup), what he had for lunch, what he has for lunch on a regular work day, and how he already feels lighter and more energetic. Peter didn’t forget to mention the amazing apartment he has and how much money it costs, the new cars he gets every year (from a Hassidic family in Brooklyn?), and how he’s a “musician”. FYI, owning a guitar and singing along with the radio does not make you a musician.
I hate goodbyes but this one I was looking forward to. As we’re walking out he offers to drive me to my apartment since he thoughtfully picked a place that was closer to his apartment. Unfortunately I don’t live in a city that you can just hail a cab so I decided to take him up on his offer…among other things. He said he had to go into his apartment to get his keys. He showed off his mediocre apartment, okay the view was amazing but this was nothing compared to what he made it seem. He kept trying to show me his room and his king sized bed. As deeply impressed as I was by his ability to furnish an apartment, I wasn’t that interested and wanted to get home. I asked to use the bathroom and when I came out he called to me from his bedroom. I walked in to find him laying on his bed naked (Castanza portrait-esq). I was speechless, not because of his ballsy assumption that I’d want to have sex with him but that he looked so much like Peter Griffin from that episode of Family Guy where Peter’s bones disintegrate and he’s just a huge blob of fat. I swear, the resemblance was uncanny! He started to stretch and flex his leg to show off his assets. He actually said, “Come feel. I’m all muscle” and I couldn’t help but think “Under which layer of skin and fat?”. I have nothing against overweight people but the way this guy spoke of himself you would think you were on a date with David Beckham, not the complete opposite. As much as I enjoy awkward moments, this one needed to end.
But the journey continued. I asked if he minded taking me home because I wasn’t feeling well, AKA was nauseous from the mental image of his naked body ingrained in my memory. So he gets his clothes and brings them to the bathroom to dress (because being naked was ok but seeing him dress was off limits). Then he was telling me how handy he is around the apartment and how he installed everything himself. I inquired about the ceiling fan that was hanging from a wire and was one door slam away from crashing to the ground. He conveniently didn’t work on that one. Just when I thought it couldn’t get worse, we get to the car and he puts on Nickelback and starts belting out “Never made it as a wise man, couldn’t cut it as a poor man stealing”. I was embarrassed for him. It was mostly his pride in liking bands like Nickelback and knowing every lyric to the songs as well as the key changes. It didn’t stop there- he informed me that he just learned how to play this gem on the guitar! Because hearing you play it will make it sound better, right?
Peter Griffin was just a walking contradiction. This guy had cajones! Not only did he strip naked and try to seduce me but I was able to call him out on every lie and exaggeration that came out of his mouth. To me he screamed insecure! In an attempt to overcompensate for his shortcomings he came off as self conscious of his appearance, his finances, his masculinity, sexual capacity, and his musical ability (or lack there of). Note that this behavior is typical for people with low self esteem. Masking it with a facade only goes so far. Your true nature will always show as it did in the Family Guy episode with the real Peter Griffin and now with the fake Peter Griffin, case in point.
To the nervous daters out there, you are not alone. No one is completely secure but the more you confront these insecurities the better chance you have of overcoming them. Don’t let these over confident personalities fool you. Just because issues may not be visible right away doesn’t mean they don’t exist. Like a braless girl in a see through shirt, you might be covered in fabric but we can still see your nipples.
Do: Live a naked life. Be honest with yourself and your feelings.
Don’t: Actually get naked…especially as a surprise after the first date. That’s one jack we don’t need popping out of the box.
A toast to living naked because eventually you will have to strip and bare all.
Stay Tuned!
-Bev
Babbling with Bev 