So, I’m throwing myself back into online dating a bit more this week. Moving to an entirely different part of town, I realize that there’s this huge, untapped source of new dates! I am approaching it a little differently this go-round (don’t I always say that?) because I am just being REALLY fucking honest. Not stupid-honest, but like… Here’s who I am, these are my flaws, these are my strengths, THIS is what I want.

However, this ——————->

This is not something I want. [Read more...]

Seriously…

Video from a camera attached to a weather balloon that rose into the upper stratosphere and recorded the blackness of space.

Let me say that again in case you missed it — they attached a camera to a fucking balloon and sent it out into space. I saw this on Ian Belknap’s facebook fan page today and I… I…

I want to marry a man like this. A man that, for fun, will launch something fairly stupid and probably superfluously expensive and risky all for our fucking children. Can you imagine this being your dad? Being like, “Oh, this weekend? We filmed outer space from a kajillion feet up in the atmosphere.”

Do-loot-do-loot-do-loot! <–That’s the Wayne’s World dream sequence thing, man.

Watching a man do that kind of stuff for his children is… almost masturbatable. Yea, I made up that word and it might be a little creepy but if my husband was laying in bed next to me and we’re all reading books and talking about our day and he said, “You know what I want to do with our kids?” And he dropped that bomb on me…

Well, at first I’d be like, “Are you SERIOUS? How much is a weather balloon? You’re not going to use OUR video camera are you?” And then, as he gets all excited and moves from his reclining position next to me on the bed and turns and sits up on his knees and tells me all about his plans, I would get just as excited as him. And we’d end the conversation with some rip-roarin’ sex because, dude. My husband would be so fucking awesome.

Do-loot-do-loot-do-loot!

Ahhhh… A girl can dream, right?

Am I about to start ovulating or something? ROMANCE, bitches.

I think I’ll probably end up with a writer of some sort because there aren’t many romantic gestures that mean much to me, but if you write something for me, I will be yours forever (or you know, some other length of time).

There is nothing about Pablo Neruda physically that makes my girly bits tingle, but the things he writes, lawd.

Confession: I have totally masturbated to Neruda poems.

Potential matches of the world, take note: I will masturbate to your love poems to me if they are good enough. [Read more...]

This is the song I want to play during my slightly bizarre, non-traditional wedding ceremony…

Albacore
Ani Difranco

Look here I just tattooed a wedding band
On what looks like to me my mother’s hand
I’m no blushing girl, no innocent dove
It took me a long time to find love
But now I have no doubt and I never will
that I am meant to be loving you
And it fairly blew my mind to be so sure
When that little needle said “I Do”

My love gives me hope
My love gives me pride
My love gets me past the landmines inside
When I am next to you, I am more me
Inside me is a room to which you hold the key

Look at that honey moon in the albacore sky
Look with all of you, not just your eye
Look at its dancing light in the whispering trees
Look at how I love you and you love me
Look at how I love you and you love me

Seriously. Read that title and take it alllllll in.

Let’s go back, kids… To the year 2001. I had just “fallen away” from church, having skipped one Sunday claiming to not feel well. When everyone in my house piled into their cars to go to church, my friend Megan came over and we packed up all my shit and I moved out — like a thief in the night.

I had also just recently dropped out of college. Surprising as it may be, all of this dropping and running away was actually really good for me. This period in my life was the time when I first stretched my legs. I was nineteen and the world was huge and finally in front of me. I had finally removed all of the shit that was mucking up my view. It was beautiful.

I was working at Starbucks and this adorable meat-head douche jock would come in all the time, trying to flirt with me. I was into him and so we went on a few dates. I was also NOT quite in my mega-slut days, so we must’ve been dating for about three or four weeks before we hit the porn track and got horizontal.

[Read more...]

The Giant came over last night when he got off work and we stayed up ridiculously late laughing and talking and making out. I’m still not sure where this train is going, but dammit, he’s cozy. He’s also a giant which makes me feel delightfully feminine and tiny and dainty. Yes, DAINTY! It’s a bizarre feeling but just… cozy. I can’t really think of a better way to describe it. I don’t think we went to bed until after three in the morning and even then, we spent a while still cuddling and kissing, me nuzzling on his fuzzy chin.

Making out is important — unbelievably important. [Read more...]

First, watch this. Get your kleenex.

Ok, now come here. Lemme hold you. I know, I know. I’m sobbing my eyes out, too.

My frame of reference for love and marriage comes from my parents. And even my grandparents. [Read more...]

I’ve only taken a handful of dating breaks in my adult life. Generally speaking, the breaks come after some sort of what-the-fucked-up’d situation that has left me confused or frustrated or angry.

For example, when I ended things with Hot Single Dad the first time (and really, it should have been IT then. I was dickmatized hardcore there.) I probably told myself that I’d take a [insert period of time] break and then I actually took a [divide that period of time by four] break instead. That’s generally how it goes. I’m trying to recollect the break right after HSD last spring and I guess it was my Summer of Celibacy.

Yea, alright peanut gallery. Shut the fuck up with the laughing so I can get on with this little blog post. [Read more...]