Awkward AF

So, many of these posts are probably a little accusatory of other people’s awkward moments. Just to show that I’m not some snob who feels everyone else is the weirdo, here’s a perfect example of my own evening this past week where I’m sure I created a fantastic story for the other person (and all of you).

My ‘big’ excuse was that I spent the day having a pile of medical tests and some not so fun conclusions, so I was a bit distracted and not feeling so hot. If you recall an earlier entry, situations like this have led to me puking on dates before. Spoilers, I did not puke this time. But maybe I should schedule my procedures a bit better around my dating life?! Oh to have that luxury and foresight… 🙂

Ok, so onto the date. One thing I really pride myself on is my sense of direction. It’s overall really great and rarely fails me. I love road-tripping, and am good at finding obscure places. On this particular evening…all that went out the window. It was pouring rain, and I was meeting my date in a neighboring city that I am not at all familiar with. My iPhone was being a bit of a fuck, and indicated the café was closer on the block to where I actually was, so I pulled into the first parking spot I could find and dodged raindrops into the place. A few minutes earlier, I got a text from my date that she was in the café near the fireplace. Can’t miss her.

I’m sure I would not have missed her…had I showed up at the right place.

I wandered around looking for someone who vaguely resembled the Tinder profile pic, and found no one. I finally texted her, hoping she was just in the bathroom. The text back was “uh…I don’t see you either. You at the right place?” She then did a Share My Location.

Nope. Wrong place.


I proceeded to walk back into the pouring rain and off to find where she was camped out. It was on this walk that I stepped in a puddle and discovered my boots were no longer waterproof.

Awesome. Night just keeps improving.

By now, I wanted to throw in the towel and walk away. But that was so not fair to her (or I), so I slogged on and eventually found her. This time when I saw a fireplace in a café, it was the right one. We ordered some warm goodness from the café and sat down to get to know each other

I. Was. So. Out. Of. It.

My foot was freezing and soaked, my body was in pain, and my stomach was in knots. And then I realized my tenseness was making my poor date tense. I decided to relax, and just dive in. We eventually recovered from my awkward early tone, and finally found our stride with things in common.

Until I realized that some of the medical stuff I had done earlier left my back itchy and sore…and I was unconsciously rocking back and forth to itch it on the back of my chair. Fuck. I looked nuts. I wound up dishing on my shitty day, and she was really compassionate about it and understanding that I was so not at my best…but definitely raised an eyebrow that I knew I was going to be a bit out of it and agreed to hang anyway. All I could do was apologize and keep slogging forward with this date that I was feeling worse about by the second—and it had NOTHING to do with her. She was lovely.

We then agreed to go to dinner because we were finally feeling a bit more relaxed around each other, and that came my final are you fucking kidding me moment. I just wanted a glass of water. Literally the easiest thing to get, right?

Wrong. Because life wanted to be a dickhole that night.

I couldn’t work the fucking water dispenser. And I was in plain view of my date while I struggled, swore a few times, turned red, and just felt like sinking through the floor. The servers were gleefully taking bets on when I would lose it and cry. After (I kid you not) about 5 minutes, I figured it out.

If this is the technology of the future, I’m gonna be a very annoyed, thirsty individual.

But I guess the bright side is that I was vulnerable for once on a first date. I so rarely do this—I’m not an easy person to get to know. Because I was already emotionally wiped when I arrived, I didn’t have the energy to hide it. And she responded with humor and compassion and patience. So maybe being open on the first date is the way to go?

I would just like to do it with dry socks for the next time.


That time when…

…I had just finished saying that I adore sci-fi movies…and my date said:

“Shit! I hate sci-fi movies! All those lasers going ‘pew pew pew.’ Uh. Hello. Space is in a vacuum. There would be no noise. AND NO EXPLOSIONS.”

I wish I was kidding.

But, as usual, totally not.


Dear texting: you’re a mo-fo

Ok. So. Texting. I’m sure I’m not alone in this angst.

For meeting someone on Tinder, how long do I want to text before I just fucking meet the person?

How many emojis?

How many exclamation marks?

What do they mean by …

What do they mean by a slow response even though they have an iPhone and I can see they read my text?!

Why did texting get created to make me even more awkward?!

I mean…fuck. Dating was bad enough when we had to use the actual telephone. But at least with that it was semi-straightforward. Though, even with that, there was the bullshit game of when do I call and what do I say.

Speaking of what do I say…I literally write out a script for the phone because I’m awkward AF. And when they go off script…Fuck. My. Life.

Ok, back to texting and its struggles. Take today for instance. It’s super stormy out, and for once I wasn’t working, so I curled up with my pup, never-ending cups of tea that transitioned to wine as the day progressed, and binged on Netflix.

And because I’m single and trying to mingle, I had Tinder out and open and ready for some action.

A woman that I liked a few days ago liked me back this morning, and within minutes of the match being made, she sent a “hi!” Texting progressed from here. But I was so nervous about how to “play it right.” I mean, how long do I wait, how desperate and without a busy weekend do I want to seem, how real do I get right away, and when the fuck will one of us just ask the other out!? Literally 10 hours have gone by and we are only just getting to the ask.


Every single new possibility is a new opportunity for a relationship…and a fuckpile of angst over texting and getting that relationship off the ground.

There are the over-texters. There are the never text you backers. There are those that send you a pic of every fucking activity they do within an hour of meeting you (which is good or bad, depending on how you feel about them). There are those people who are waaaay wittier and more open on text than in person (me, at first, before I get more comfy and you find my awkward endearing).

And that’s just the start of dating someone. There are the relationship-maintenance texts that occur next. Or you go straight to being dumped over text.

If you have only been out a few times, dumping via text, especially depending on some circumstances, is A-OK. I have been on both ends of this and it’s kosher in many circumstances.

But. I have also been on the receiving end of a dump via text in which we had been sleeping together for over a month. Definitely not a relationship yet, but I also felt I was worth a bit more than a fucking text. Then again…it’s like ripping off a bandaid and at least it’s over. It’s more of when you read that fateful text that can suck. Like the time I was hanging with an ex…and got dumped via text…and needed a hug but I sure as shit wasn’t going to ask him!

But because I try to stay positive at the end of the day, here are some texting wins:

Recently, I went out with a woman, and we clicked on both ends pretty quickly and we had a great evening getting to know each other. As we were walking away from our first date and she texted, “ok, I can’t wait! When can I see you again?!”

Perfection. And I didn’t wait a second to respond.

Another win was when the person texted me on the way home to say that they and their dog thoroughly enjoyed meeting me and my dog, and that we should get together again…for the sake of the dogs.

Adorbs. And again, no hesitation.

Then there are the hilarious “uh WHY didn’t we sleep together??? I get that it’s the first date and you have standards…but day-um.”

Win. That one is always mixed with a slight regret, but better to keep them wanting more…?

I guess texting is a great way to set boundaries, to get a feel for the other person, and to share some of your life a bit early on. Yeah, it’s stressful as fucking shit…but it does provide a lot of insight into another person and how they operate. It’s also a great way to involve your friends in your relationship as you have them screen your highly angsted over texts. I’m not proud of it…but I have So Many texts edited by friends (and I’m sure I’m not the only one!!).

Just remember to SEE the other person once in a while…cause that part is pretty good too.


Oh the things we do for dating and relationships…and society’s expectations. The primping, the filtering of comments, the late nights.

The removal of hair.

So in my last post, I mentioned that I got a very complete wax job for a guy. It wasn’t nearly as painful as I expected, and it was indeed convenient (minus the increased proneness to camel toe in a bikini). At first, I was embarrassed, and even a little ashamed, that I did this for someone’s judgment of a particular beauty standard. So I tried to convince myself that I did it for me. And got a few more. Somewhere along the way, my body decided to reject this treatment, and I developed some insanely painful cysts, which rapidly turned to abscesses. Long story short, I had to resort to two major surgeries on my lady bits to scoop them out. I have two 4” scars on the outside, permanent internal sutures, and I am also missing a sweat gland. All for a guy I dated for only 6 weeks (and slept with for 2 years on and off).

On the bright side, this reaction seems to be rare. And I have since learned to tell anyone who remotely hints at a wax to suck it. But because of my experience, I find myself very curious about how other people handle society’s current demand for a lack of hair. And it’s amazing the lengths we go to…and the stories that come out of it are often fairly amusing and so relatable.

I had not really planned on tackling this topic due to my personal shit-tastic luck in this department…but a friend’s recent panicked group text sent me into interview mode:

“YOU GUYS!!!! I just did the most horrific thing I’ve ever done in my whole life!!” She went radio-silent for the next 70 minutes while our other friend on the text and I sat and demanded answers. She finally checked in with,


Uh. *hurl*

She was trimming a bit before her wax appointment…and her safety scissors weren’t safe enough to save her vag. The description was that there was a piece on the scissors.

“A vaginal horror movie.”

Again. *hurl*

The kicker? She’s such a champ that she finished the wax.

This time, just silent awe and respect. And now that I knew she was ok…peals of laughter.

Fortunately, as I have learned, that area is resilient and fast-healing.

Still. *shudder* In one fell swoop she made my worst fears about touching up that area come true.

So then I started asking around for other FML moments.

One particularly magic story is the one about the guy a friend lost her virginity to. He had shaved his chest. So the first night was fab. The stubble the next night? Not so fab.

Another friend got wasted in college and shaved his back…only for it to grow back in insanely thick. He now has to shave a collar at the top to keep his perma-sweater from poking out of shirt tops.

One guy I dated almost made himself a uniballer from a mishap of shaving his balls.

It’s not restricted to below the belt either. I had friend who got a horrible eyebrow wax right about the time she was getting her driver’s license renewed. One eyebrow was a bit higher than the other, resulting in a few weeks of her looking permanently surprised in person…and forever immortalized as a surprised driver’s license pic.

Another friend tried to use a razor on her eyebrows, and they haven’t been the same since.

I’ll end with my favorite visual, even though it isn’t really related to dating. My good friend was scheduled for a c-section and wanted to clean up a bit down there before the world saw her in all her glory. The (obvious) catch? She was 9 months preggers. And couldn’t easily reach her hoo-ha. So she sat flailing in the tub until her husband wandered in and caught his huuuuge naked (self-described) walrus of a wife flailing awkwardly in the tub. Not a sight he’ll soon forget!! And she never did succeed in losing that hair pre-kiddo…

None of this is meant to scare you off from trying a new hairstyle or to render judgment for waxing, shaving, or going natural. It’s more to make us all feel not so alone in the angst over extra fuzz and the fact that mishaps happen. The vast majority of us have been there. The important thing is to be YOU. Do I regret waxing and the ensuing medical issues? No. I made my peace with it long ago—and it was, at the end of the day, my choice. And my nethers are pretty resilient:  the scars are barely visible and I can ride a bike with no discomfort. And it gave me a great are-you-fucking-kidding-me story with “I got a wax, got dumped before he saw it, and then had 2 major surgeries.”

A friend posted an inquiry a while ago on Facebook about what people’s thoughts are on this topic, and I loved one person’s response about women’s curlies: if a woman is kind enough to show me her lady bits, I can’t complain about the styling around them!

And as for a parting thought, just remember that your worst fear of lopping off your vagina is actually a possibility, so be careful!!!