I think how you Bumble or Twitter swipe says a lot about your self esteem. For me, I find myself judging people a lot while I sit on the toilet. Oftentimes, this is while I'm being judged by 1 or 2 cats who are watching me sit on the toilet, or, if I'm at work, it is while I'm in a girl's bathroom listening to high schooler's curse.
Let's say a picture of a guy comes up, here's how I will swipe left and not choose them
1. You look like you have a fancy suit that fits you- I am not fancy and this is intimidating
2. You wear your hat ascue. This obviously means you are cooler than I and/or you might be a douche bag
3. You have better definited muscles than I know what to do with- I'm already a little embarrassed of my body and I don't need to feel like someone is dating down with me.
4. You are not living in Chicago- this also cracks me up because I am looking to hook up pretty primarily right now, but the romantic in me doesn't want there to be no possibility it might work out. I mean girls, right?
5. You have weird facial hair- I dont' know what to do with your foot long beard.
6. Jewlery- maybe a necklace I can handle, but men with a bunch of accessories for some reason turn me off.
7. If you write something in your little blurb where you criticize women- for example "Why is everyone a yoga instructor all of a sudden? Don't have all selfies- don't you have friends?" WHy are you already insulting me, we haven't even met yet?
Things I will swipe right for everytime
1. A picture that makes me laugh
2. A picture that shows you are a jokester or not afraid to make an ass out of yourself
3. Nice eyes or a good face
4. You do not have overtly sexual picture of you with your shirt off
5. you are holding a cat- everytime.
6. You are holding a baby and you explicitly state it isn't yours.
Friday, May 20, 2016
Tuesday, May 10, 2016
I obviously have an obsessive personality. I am currently am on 3 different dating sites. Okcupid, which is what I met my ex on and I forgot how hit or miss it is. I think people genuinely want to find someone special on that site, at least for the most part.
I'm also on Tinder, which I'm told isn't just for fucking any more. I think the whole-just for fucking thing ended when I was in year 3 of my relationship with the ex. I also got on bumble about 2 weeks ago, which is just Tinder for lazy men. The women have to message the men first, which is essentially what I do on Tinder so it's not so different for me. I can't believe this, I'm writing this down now and I'm tempted to go find my phone and start perpetually swiping left.
Okay here is the lingo you need for this story.
1. Swipe left is when you don't like someone
2. Swipe right is you saying you like them
3. Getting a match is when both of you have swiped right
4. Blurb- this is where you can write about 300 characters about yourself (a lot of people leave it blank)
5. message- This is where you can essentially text message someone through the app after you have both liked each other.
Okay, so I have been on about 6 dates in the past 2 weeks, which if you think about the fact that I get up at 5:30 am everyday well it's pretty prolific. It also helps me because I really don't have a ton of friends so it fills up my days.
Let's talk about my date last Saturday.
So I have no plans for Saturday night at all. I spend the day running errands and hanging out and then in the afternoon I get to swiping. I match on Tinder with this 27 year old name GT (which is not a name). We message each other and seems to have a lot in common- both in the education field, we can both carry a conversation,e tc. He throws out that he's available for coffee if we wanted to grab one. I told him,I"d like an adult beverage for a first day. So, we make plans to meet at 7 at the bar which is walking distance from my apartment.
So I take a long nap, I wake up and get ready for my date. I look cute, but it's weirdly cold out so I do jeans and an nice top. I walk to the restaurant and I'm about 5 mintues early. I like to be early because I can buy my own drink adn then I don't feel indebted to the guy if we don't hit it off. I have this problem where if someone has bought me a drink I feel like I owe it to them to act like I'm into the date or that it could work. I've gotten myself in trouble a lot with this.
So there are only a few people int he bar and a guy sitting all by himself and I think, that could be teh guy, but how awkward would it be if I took out my phone and tried to match his face to the profile face on tinder. So I turn my phone on in my purse and proceed to act like I"m not hcecking. I decide to walk up to the guy and just ask. So I say, "hi are you GT?" and he very agrily says "no!"
Geez, I didn't ask him if he was down to fuck or my long lost farther or anything.
So anyhow, I sit down at a high top and I see my date pull in on his bike. He then walks into the bar and he's great looking. He's got it all now- he's great looking, he lives near me, and he bikes- let's do it in the corner if we must.
He comes in and shakes my hand rather heartily and then goes to the bar to a get drinks\.
What proceeds is one of the best conversations I've had on a date. We are laughing about Tinder and talking about all of the people on there and how weird it is. I haven't really been able to make fun of it with anyone and it's so fun. We make fun of all the people who are yoga instructors, that have pictures with lions or tigers, all of the guys who take pictures in their bathrooms. He says he never swipes right when people don't write anything because "they jsut want to hook up". I say I never swipe right when they look like they livei n River North because they're probably a jack ass.
We talk about how we are logan Square people and it's okay that we aren't loaded and into doing coke off of each other's butts. I then ask him if this is the part of the date where we find a place to have sex since we met on Tinder. He jokes that he already scoped out the photo booth in the corner because then, "people could still see our legs." He mentions that he has to go to a birthday party at 9, which he told me earlier about so I ask if we need to grab the check. He says he'd love to stay for another drink.
We continue to talk and I do some super lame things like ask to see how big his hand is and touch his chin when he says he can't grow a beard. Then when we go to leave he unlocks his bike and then gives me another sturdy handshake. I coquettishly look at him through my non-existent lashes and say, "Could I maybe give you a kiss." And he says...
"You know, I'm not really feeling it. (weird pause) I just wanted to tell you what was in my head, but we should hang out sometime." He then proceeds to bike off.
Yikes, what the hell happened. I'll never know. But his little fucking Tinder icon is still on my phone ready for messages, and part of me feels like I should revert to my crazy 20 something self and message him and ask wha thappened. Or send a message that we should hang out again, you know so I seem super desperate.
I haven't done it yet. But it does suck.
So I continue to swipe, until I realize that it's going no where.
I'm also on Tinder, which I'm told isn't just for fucking any more. I think the whole-just for fucking thing ended when I was in year 3 of my relationship with the ex. I also got on bumble about 2 weeks ago, which is just Tinder for lazy men. The women have to message the men first, which is essentially what I do on Tinder so it's not so different for me. I can't believe this, I'm writing this down now and I'm tempted to go find my phone and start perpetually swiping left.
Okay here is the lingo you need for this story.
1. Swipe left is when you don't like someone
2. Swipe right is you saying you like them
3. Getting a match is when both of you have swiped right
4. Blurb- this is where you can write about 300 characters about yourself (a lot of people leave it blank)
5. message- This is where you can essentially text message someone through the app after you have both liked each other.
Okay, so I have been on about 6 dates in the past 2 weeks, which if you think about the fact that I get up at 5:30 am everyday well it's pretty prolific. It also helps me because I really don't have a ton of friends so it fills up my days.
Let's talk about my date last Saturday.
So I have no plans for Saturday night at all. I spend the day running errands and hanging out and then in the afternoon I get to swiping. I match on Tinder with this 27 year old name GT (which is not a name). We message each other and seems to have a lot in common- both in the education field, we can both carry a conversation,e tc. He throws out that he's available for coffee if we wanted to grab one. I told him,I"d like an adult beverage for a first day. So, we make plans to meet at 7 at the bar which is walking distance from my apartment.
So I take a long nap, I wake up and get ready for my date. I look cute, but it's weirdly cold out so I do jeans and an nice top. I walk to the restaurant and I'm about 5 mintues early. I like to be early because I can buy my own drink adn then I don't feel indebted to the guy if we don't hit it off. I have this problem where if someone has bought me a drink I feel like I owe it to them to act like I'm into the date or that it could work. I've gotten myself in trouble a lot with this.
So there are only a few people int he bar and a guy sitting all by himself and I think, that could be teh guy, but how awkward would it be if I took out my phone and tried to match his face to the profile face on tinder. So I turn my phone on in my purse and proceed to act like I"m not hcecking. I decide to walk up to the guy and just ask. So I say, "hi are you GT?" and he very agrily says "no!"
Geez, I didn't ask him if he was down to fuck or my long lost farther or anything.
So anyhow, I sit down at a high top and I see my date pull in on his bike. He then walks into the bar and he's great looking. He's got it all now- he's great looking, he lives near me, and he bikes- let's do it in the corner if we must.
He comes in and shakes my hand rather heartily and then goes to the bar to a get drinks\.
What proceeds is one of the best conversations I've had on a date. We are laughing about Tinder and talking about all of the people on there and how weird it is. I haven't really been able to make fun of it with anyone and it's so fun. We make fun of all the people who are yoga instructors, that have pictures with lions or tigers, all of the guys who take pictures in their bathrooms. He says he never swipes right when people don't write anything because "they jsut want to hook up". I say I never swipe right when they look like they livei n River North because they're probably a jack ass.
We talk about how we are logan Square people and it's okay that we aren't loaded and into doing coke off of each other's butts. I then ask him if this is the part of the date where we find a place to have sex since we met on Tinder. He jokes that he already scoped out the photo booth in the corner because then, "people could still see our legs." He mentions that he has to go to a birthday party at 9, which he told me earlier about so I ask if we need to grab the check. He says he'd love to stay for another drink.
We continue to talk and I do some super lame things like ask to see how big his hand is and touch his chin when he says he can't grow a beard. Then when we go to leave he unlocks his bike and then gives me another sturdy handshake. I coquettishly look at him through my non-existent lashes and say, "Could I maybe give you a kiss." And he says...
"You know, I'm not really feeling it. (weird pause) I just wanted to tell you what was in my head, but we should hang out sometime." He then proceeds to bike off.
Yikes, what the hell happened. I'll never know. But his little fucking Tinder icon is still on my phone ready for messages, and part of me feels like I should revert to my crazy 20 something self and message him and ask wha thappened. Or send a message that we should hang out again, you know so I seem super desperate.
I haven't done it yet. But it does suck.
So I continue to swipe, until I realize that it's going no where.
Friday, May 6, 2016
Beginnings
I often call my brother about insane things that happen to me and his response is always the same: "you have to write these things down". I guess it's time to give it a try, I can't say that all of this is truthful, because honestly a lot of it happened a while ago and memory is a tricky thing, it can't be trusted.
I feel like I should start in the here and now because at least I can remember that stuff accurately.
I am currently a 31 year old women, who is single, has two cats and is sitting at my Target $69 dollar desk for the first time ever. I "built" the desk about a month ago, but my office has slowly changed into the cat's room so it wasn't terribly inviting. Imagine 2 cat boxes, a cat tree and cat toys all over the place; everything lightly dusted in cat litter. I'm sitting here at the desk chair I bought at Walgreens 6 years ago and I'm looking out over my backyard. I live in a corner walk up that has a nice patch of grass as a backyard. We have a wooden fence on one side that borders, what can only be described as- a strip mall...or suburb in miniature. You see, I live in Chicago, which is one of the most happening places in the country in my opinion,but I someone found myself living in a weird oasis where the Target, Home Goods, Chipotles of the world came to meet so that city folks could go and get their guilty pleasures. My room overlooks my grassy backyard as well as a large parking structure that has a huge circular light that acts as my own eclipsless moon. It reads, "Regal Stadium 14- parking". My front yard smells like wafts of movie popcorn and the occasional bbqed meat from the restaurant next to the movie theater. It's a bit of a change after the charming street I used to live on, but that's another post for another day.
More about me- because at the heart of blogging is always a narcissist. I'm currently wearing a work-out outfit bought form Costco- there has to be numerous stories about costco on here (mental note). The outfit is covered in cat hair, almost to the point that the pants look like those old west chaps that have a whole sheered sheep on the legs or something. I am typing with sunglasses on because I have the two windows in front of me wide open and it's crazy sunny. If I attempt to close the shades my black cat, Petey bites the blinds as if to say, "fuck off, this is all I have". So the sunglasses are a compromise, and I'd say they look cool but I bought them to bike with so they rap around my face in a most unbecoming way. I have an intense sports bra on that is titled "Tata tamer" according to Lulu lemon, a place where I would never shop, but I was given a gift certificate (and to tell you the truth, it's a really great bra).
I guess our mini story of the day should be titled:
I've lost it
So almost everyday of the year I bike to work and I put on my biking clothes that includes a sports bra and I get to school and I change into my work clothes. I leave my bra at work so that I don't forget it and I can change into it after I take off my sports bra. Well, on Wednesday I changed to go to the gym in the girl's bathroom of the high school where I work. Now, there are no teacher bathrooms, no locker rooms, and no showers, so my options were limited. The next day I go to change into the bra that I leave at school and I can't find it anywhere. I tear my desk apart, I look through all of the clothes I keep at school. I double check my backpack.
I then tell this story to my advisory- a group of 12th graders who I have mentored for four years. They are completely losing it- they are laughing up a storm. Then one girls goes, "wait was it a black bra?" Yes, I said, not at all surprised. "I found that bra int the bathroom and I told a bunch of teachers about it." So then I go on a hunt for my bra looking for the teachers and I even looked in the lost and found trying to see if I had lost my bra under an old copy of Lord of the Flies. No juice. At this point I'm stopping teachers from the 3rd floor of the hallway looking for my bra.
Needless to say- everyone has been laughing their ass off, but I have no idea where this stupid thing ended up. It may very well be in some 9th grader's sock drawer where he dreams of the girl that wore it. It was me, you pervert- I'm double your age.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)