Breaking Up is Hard to Do!

rest-jumboI’d been ready to break up with this guy for three weeks. He said something dumb, really passive aggressive relating to my intelligence over dinner. I ran to the ladies room and was as sick as a dog. It wasn’t from the Artisanal agnolotti filled with ricotta and Italian pumpkin, in a walnut and butter sauce we shared,the bottle of Sancerre, the Chef’s risotto del giornoor the Bigné filled with hazelnut cream and wild berry sauce. It was my date that was making me ill. My gut was telling me loud and clear this guy was not for me.black-bathroom-design_5

I returned from the lady’s room a good 15 minutes later and said I was very sick and needed to go home. After a dinner like this I’m sure this was not the ending to our evening that he was hoping for!

I knew I needed to break up with him. I consulted with my girlfriend,

“It’s not fair to break it off right before Christmas.”

Her response, “So basically you’re saying you want a gift?”gift-box

“Not at all!” I argued.

“So then you need to do it now, before.”

With time running out I wondered out loud how I should do it; text, email, phone call or the most dreaded – in person.

“Well, since you have a mutual friend and you live in the same neighborhood you potentially could bump into each other again. You need to do it in person.”

In the meantime, I took hours to call him back or ignored his text message. I acted disinterested whenever we spoke. His numerous text messages were filled with even more hearts, smiles and balloons, his voice was as upbeat as usual. He didn’t have a clue. Finally it was the day. I thought about canceling or sending him an email instead. I didn’t. I marched over to his home in the pouring rain each step with more dread.

He was freshly shower in a beautiful pressed shirt and oh so happy to see me after nearly three weeks apart. I felt like a bitch. He was a good guy, a generous guy, a pleaser with a successful company. He wanted to take me away. Why was I letting him go? I reminded myself that he drove me crazy and had an inferiority complex. He poured me wine, he asked if I was hungry and then he practically put me on his lap. Finally it was over.

I called my girlfriend on the walk home.

hostile-takeover-big-fish“It was 90 minutes of hell.”

“You stayed that long?”

I explained that I felt I had to. The guy had been through and awful divorce which came out of left field, he was having issues with his son and his best friend. Things were not good. I wanted to stay and answer his questions about why I was breaking up with him. I did what every woman i know wants, I gave him answers. I even brought him a chocolate muffins from the best pastry shop – a parting gift.

 

“Did he cry?”

“I saw him wipe his eye.”

“Was he hamming it up or holding it in.”

“I don’t even know but I ventured to guess he was crushed. It always hurts when it’s a surprise.”

As I was finally done and extracting myself from his couch he asked, 

“Do you find me attractive?”

What was I going to say no when I was breaking up with him? Truth be told he was tall, dark and handsome and went to the gym every day – not an ounce of body fat. So i said, Yes, of course. And then 0008-Sony-Artisans-of-Imageryhe leaned in for a kiss and asked,“So could we still see each other?”I kissed him on the lips and laughed. Not one to give up easily he asked, “Do you want me to walk you home?”

By the time I got home there was a text message from him. UGHHH!!!! The next time I break up with someone I’m sending a letter – not a text message or an email, a real letter with a stamp.

 

 

 

Update: He sent my a very expensive holiday gift from Saks and a large bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream.

I Have a Boyfriend

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Here is another great piece by my dear friend @AmyDetRiotGirl . Gotta love the honesty!

Sometimes men ask me why women are so scared to give our numbers out. I would think that the answer to this would be obvious, but since there still seem to be people out there who think that women are just being uppity or cold by not wanting to share the digits, I thought I’d share a few of my worst stories on this topic.

• “I have a boyfriend”

A friend of mine and I were waiting for a transfer one night out at Broadway Junction. He fell asleep on me, while I stayed up and played games on my cell phone. As I sat there minding my own business, a man approached me and said “hey baby girl, how’s you night?”

I said “it’s fine. I’m trying to beat this level.”

He said “oh well, if you want to stop for a minute, I’d really like to say hi and maybe get your number.”

I said “I’m in the middle of this level. I’m sorry, but I’m trying to concentrate right now.”

He said “girl, that’s just a game. I’m offering you something better.”

I said “no, really. I want to finish this level. And, anyway, I have a boyfriend.” as I pointed to my friend, who helpfully started snoring as he rolled over on my shoulder.

And, here it comes, the most dumbfounding response ever… “But, baby… HE’S ASLEEP.”

😳😳😳😳 ‪#‎AreYouSerious‬

First Date Advice for Men

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I’ve had some really lame first dates even though I try to be really thorough screening potential suitors. Some people are great on the phone and via text. I’ve found you never really know if you did a good job until you spend an evening together. So here are some of my very random DOs and DON’Ts.

Never order venison on a first date. I do not wish to watch you eat Bambi.  (If you do, I promise there will be no second date/ Unless of course youa re Anthony Bourdain and then I would watch you drink kitten blood while you scarfed down foie gras.)

Do not talk about your ex-wife. I do not care. I may not even care about you by dessert.

Do not wear a dirty sweater. If you want to wear an ugly sweater that is your business. Dirty is unacceptable.

Just to let you in on a fashion tip, pleated pants have gone out of style.

Cut your nails before a date. Yes, even your pinky nail! A single long nail is not cool. It was never cool.

Brush your teeth. Remove any toothpaste residue.

Check your zipper before I arrive.

Do not wear sneakers if you are over the age of 12 and it is an evening date. Before 6pm is acceptable.

Do not schedule a date at 5:40 when you only have a block of 20 minutes between appointments.

Do not plan an “active” date ie. Samba dancing, golf, or a walk (anywhere) without mentioning it in advance. Quite often women wear high heels or have no interest in the activities your therapist has recommended to help ease your anxiety.

Do not talk about your ex wife. I don’t care.

I think it’s great you have kids. I actually love kids. Today I want to learn about you and see if I would like to have a second date.

Leave your phone in your pocket. Or if you cannot do that even for the duration of our date, mention you are expecting an important call or you need to be available in case your kids might call. I’ll feel better about it.

Do not compare me to anyone. You do not know anything about me yet.

Do not tell me a story about your ex bother-in-laws sister’s housekeeper’s foster daughter’s son who I will never meet. I DO NOT care.

Do not ask me about what I did after I graduated from college, It was decades ago. I have been at least five other women since then.

If it’s raining, snowing, hailing, or below 12 degrees do not offer to walk me home. I will be taking a cab and you will not be in it.

Please do not push me up against a cold granite wall, shove your tongue in my mouth and your hands down my pants. I am not bringing you home. We’ll maybe I would if it was the third date and I was really into you.

Naturally, don’t ever be rude.

When the check arrives. Do not throw the small leather holder with credit card in it to the waiter and yell, “Catch” at a Mario Batali restaurant. This might be approriate at a sports bar.

Don’t try to hold my hand.

Do not refer to your children as stupid.

Do not use the word cunt. Ever.

Sharing food is one thing. Eating off my plate is another. DO NOT put your fork, spoon, or chopsticks on my plate. I will pass you a taste in a sanitary fashion. (If I am sleeping with you, this is a different story.)

Do not try to get a peek at my breasts or my ass. I see you looking. Trust me, I have both and they’re damn nice. Let’s be honest, did you ever meet an ass or a pair of breasts that you didn’t like?

Do not tell me about your sexual exploits. It makes me ill. Well, maybe how you lost your virginity would be entertaining as long as it wasn’t last month.

Please wax your hands before date if they resemble a gorilla.

Do not talk about your ex-wife. (this is not a typo)

Thank you.

TeamSingleForever‬

I have the most incredible friends. They are fun and funny, talented, kind, honest, loyal, silly, smart and well-traveled. They are from all over the world, every beautiful color you can imagine, a variety of religions and sizes. They not only make me laugh, but they encourage me to look at life from a slightly different angle. My friends are my rainbow. What they bring to my life is the pot of gold we’re all hoping to find.

I have been after my friend Amy to write a blog entry for me since before I launched The V Word Blog. I know she’s working on the piece – maybe it’s still in her head at the moment – but it will arrive at soem point.  I know one day I will click on my mail icon and there it will be sitting in my inbox. In the meantime, I have Amy’s permission to post one of her funny, and far too short, videos. World, please meet Amy!

See more from Amy @AmyDetRiotGirl on Instagram

Dating Etiquette – Full Disclosure or Not?

 

Now that I’m feeling better I’m thinking about dating again. Truth be told, I go out a lot. I just don’t consider a coffee/drink or even dinner “dating”. I think of it as a “meeting”. I think of dating as two people who are interested in each other and are seeing each other on a regular basis with the goal being a sexual relationship. That’s just my take.

I’ve been thinking more about the sexual relationship part lately. Sure, I want to like the guy. I want to be attracted to them and all that but maybe I shouldn’t be SO picky. Maybe I could have another glass of wine and just go back to their place. Let’s say I do, do I need to explain my situation? (In case you haven’t been reading my other blog posts I’m referring to an out of practice, tight, possibly rusty, and tiny, menopausal vagina) How do I explain my predicament? Do I have to or do I just act like everything is normal and I’ve never had an issue before? And then I just spring it on them when the underpants come off. Just like nearly all of the men I have dated with sexual issues and limitations. Take for instance the ones with Erectile Dysfunction. They know they have a problem but they don’t say a word. When it’s show time the curtain never goes up. It becomes an Olympian feat to try to get a rise out of these poor men. It behooves me why they just don’t pop a Viagra.

Or what about the men with Premature Ejaculation (I refer to them fondly as “Minute Men”). With a Minute Man the show is over before you take a seat. And then there’s a somewhat (but not as small as you might think) group of guys out there with the dreaded micro penis. They too never drop you a hint either. They never indicate that there’s anything is wrong. And when the boxers come off it’s like an Easter Egg hunt — in the dark.  And you can’t find the golden egg. (Yes, that really happened to me and it was very confusing. And upsetting. Especially when I did find the little nub, it was so small it resembled a cross between a doorbell and an acorn more than a penis). I don’t want to be those guys.

Perhaps I should be more like the man I had a second date with a few years back. He was a seemingly lovely man, attractive, successful, and age appropriate. Between our first and second course at a lovely romantic restaurant he shared with me his struggle with prostate cancer. Naturally, I was very understanding and sympathetic. I even held his hand (and I’m not a hand holder) because I thought we were really connecting. He shared a lot,

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“After surgery you can’t have sex for six months. No masturbation. Nothing. When the doctor said I could finally make love to my wife I was so happy. When we tried nothing happened. I went back to the doctor and got a prescription for Viagra. Nothing. Cialis. Nothing. I made another appointment. The doctor said, Don’t worry. I’ll give you a shot. You’ll be fine.” When he came back with the needle I rolled up my sleeve. The doctor asked, “What are you doing?” I said getting ready for the shot. And he said, “No, not there. Take down your pants AND shorts.”

Apparently the doctor proceeded to inject his penis. He drove home as fast as he could and had an erection that lasted over four hours. To this day he has to carry a syringe with him on dates, “just in case”. He has learned how to inject himself. That’s what he has to do each and every time he wants to have sex. Can you imagine having sex for four hours? I actually thought about it that night when he dropped me off. I thought I could get started with him, leave and go shopping for a few hours and get back just in time for the finale. Then I realized there would never been any finale for this poor guy. He wasn’t able to ejaculate. As nice as he was, there was never a third date.

Medical-syringe

Which brings me back to, do I need to say anything? Or do I just go with the flow when it finally does happen?  Maybe it would be a good surprise. What man wouldn’t want to think they had a schlong so big it wouldn’t fit in a grown woman’s vagina? I could be every man’s ego boost…

Straight, Gay, Bi, Trans, what would you do?

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