Friends, Whine/Rant

Tempered steel…

I hand picked my Achilles heel for my second date. I’m not the strongest Catholic girl in the rectory… let’s leave it at that. He’s chocolatey beautiful with abs that inspire a spontaneous set of sit ups. He has an extensive vocabulary and a tendency to bite his lip when he smiles at me. He’s like live porn. No joke.

WTF was I thinking… I’m at ease with the weirdos… this lovely young thing even has cuff links and a tie on. Uh oh.

Holy holy holy holy…..he’s hot… and with my hands over my eyes, shaking my head… I’m praying for mercy… praying… but also pausing to sing “shake your ass make your boyfriend mad” lol… he laughs and leans forward to kiss me on the chin. My breath catches in my throat.



He’s delightfully 24….nearly 12 years younger than me and just goddamndelightful. Pretty. Smells good…..looks even better………………………

Legal….not to mention divine…. and scary sharky….

and I’m trying to think of a good excuse to leave. I’m exhausted after working all night and he’s just too….pretty. I’m in the mood for my favorite pajamas, a clean set of sheets on my bed and my latest bunny-on-the-needles. I’m sleepy…. and in crazy spring cleaning mode. I’ve been bleaching surfaces since 4 am this morning. I’m preoccupied… and still not sleeping well.

I miss him and it sucks. I’m getting used to it sucking- but I’m also knitting like a lunatic and eating too many french fries. I can admit it… I’m depressed about this whole dating situation.

And now I’m on a date with the equivalent of Taye Diggs, God love him. What the fuck was I thinking when I made this plan? Clearly I was temporarily insane.

He’s biting his lip at me again and I’m a little weirded out by it. He starts to lick his lips. They’re beautiful- he’s gorgeous… and don’t get me wrong… I’m picking up what he’s throwing down…

But it’s still a little weird. A little creepy… or a little off-putting… or at least I’m thinking so until he goes and takes it to a very strange place.

D- Daddy’s home, baby… Daddy’s home.

Um… I’m truly at a loss for words and all I can think about is my dad… ugh. Argh. Buzz kill… FML. I’m in real hell at this moment because I realize we’ve just ordered dinner and I have to somehow acknowledge his “Daddy” comment. What does one say to that?

J- My Daddy just died.

Told ya I was done being sweetness and light. Every boys greatest fantasy and biggest nightmare… all rolled into one.

Plus who on earth wants to think about their Dad, or even have that word mentioned in an intimate moment? Ew. No. Ew. Gag. Blech…

D- Sorry about your Dad.

J- Ahhh, he was kind of a douchebag, but thanks.

It’s so much more fun to go a little rogue in the dating world. I don’t really care anymore about meeting someone. I’m completely myself, with no effort to make anyone like me. I’m content single. I’ve seen both sides of the spectrum in the last year. I know how bad it can be, and I know how good it can be too.

I live in the Pacific Northwest… and we have a serious thug-shortage…. so you look a little odd if you try to pull that look off up here. I’m only now adjusting to my bitch panties…His wangster panties are painted on… he knows nothing else… oy…

He starts making duckface smiles at me… and I’m unsure how to respond. I’m awkward, and though I’m trying desperately to hang on to my bitch panties… my Oh-My-God-He’s-Crazy-RUN!!! panties are looking SO much more comfortable.

Our dinner arrives and I pick up my chopsticks, and he stabs at his sushi with a fork. To each his own, I really don’t care, as long as he likes sushi.

D- You like fish?

J- I am a fan of the creatures of the sea…. shellfish, crustaceans, fish, etc…. I love them all.

D- I like fish too. <wink, wink>

Oh goody… a creepy inappropriate sexual innuendo guy, and it’s not even my birthday.

I ate my dinner in record speed, took $20 out of my wallet and set it on the table.

J- Thank you so much, and take care.

and I left…. like I should have so many times before, and didn’t. I always thought that would be so rude. I was always concerned about being the perfect lady and not hurting anyone’s feelings. Even at the sacrifice of my own.

I’ve learned a lot about myself by internet dating. I used to be so afraid. I used to feel so broken and so terrified at not being enough…

Time and time again- I was mortified at the weirdos that I was supposed to “Like”. I had more fun with the crazy weirdos I hand picked.

I’ve been tempered… and I’m patient, but realistic. I know the grass isn’t greener. I know the clouds roll in on important days.

I know that perfect is as real as unicorns and the spaghetti monster. Perfect doesn’t happen outside of television because reality is so much better.

Wouldn’t you rather feel his feverish face on your back when he’s not feeling well and seeks you out for comfort? Aren’t you still just as in love with him when he’s not at the top of his game? Sometimes it’s better.

I’m happy making chicken noodle soup and kissing the inevitable bumps and bruises that go along with living life to the fullest. Scars are simply physical memories 🙂

Go on… get out there and go dent your spaceship a little. Make this whole crazy existence count, every single day.

and DON’T BE A DOUCHEBAG… we already have a surplus.

Truth, Whine/Rant, work

The solution to cheating… and the first of many internet dates to come…


I’m only half joking, and they’re lucky that impotence is a side effect of castration, otherwise it’d be common practice by now.

As I was picking the little monster Tucker Max from the vet this afternoon, he stopped me to talk to me about the procedure. I assured him I knew what we were in for, etc.

D- Don’t worry though- he’ll be more loyal, more affectionate and sweet without all the bad behaviors. He wont be running off to the neighbors yard, he’ll stay home.

It’s all I can do not to laugh.

D- He’ll be a much better companion after he’s neutered.

and I lose it finally… dissolving into a fit of giggles.

J- And why don’t we do this to men?

He blushes…

D- It renders them… uh… unable.

J- Oh. Yikes.

I looked down at little Tucker and he glared at me.

I drove him home as he looked everywhere but at me. He’s seriously pissed off at me…. and rightfully so.

It poses quite the option…. To castrate him, or not to castrate him….

You can have the perfect husband, who is loyal and loving and wonderful… and never have sex again…

Or you can have a ruthless cheater of a husband who blows your mind…

Maybe just take one off? lol… Lance Armstrong didn’t have any trouble knocking up his girlfriend with his one testicle.

Because we all want that middle of the line guy. He doesn’t have to be perfect, he just has to care about who he is- and be actively participating in being a valuable member of society. Freeloading couch-surfers went out with bead curtains, and not to give my secrets away… but a man can stun me speechless simply by tying his tie in front of me.

Lord. Have. Mercy. Whoa….

So I had a lunch date after work tonight… my first of a dozen internet dates lined up… for your entertainment (and my boredom) .

I had to rush the dog home from the vets office and fly to my date so I’m sure I still smell like a french fry… I contemplate being late and going back for perfume, but figure it’s the first of many strange dates I’ve got planned. I’m getting back to my roots… I’m hand picking the crazies, don’t worry about perfume.

Judge away… lol… it’s fun and I’m in no frame of mind to meet anyone new. This is like speed dating… only longer.

I’m meeting him for a sandwich, and a walk maybe <absolutely not, it’s cold and windy… but I’ll burn that bridge when we get there>.

I get there first <YES!> and sit facing the door, always assuming I’m not going to recognize them… and I always do, even if the pictures I’d been sent were clearly from years earlier. He walks in ten minutes later, and I’m immediately aware who he is. He smiles. Eeek. I’m a teeth girl. A sucker for a pretty smile- and he’s missing a few. Not in the front or anything… but ya know…

At any rate, he’s tall, thin & sporting a short curly sort of Amish/Quaker beard.

Rule #1 of mine… Thou shalt not have facial hair. I delight in watching a man shave. Damn… The only thing sexier than a man with shaving cream on his cheeks, is the resulting silky-soft man face… sigh. Sparkly eyes rimmed in fluffy white shaving cream. It can only be better if he doesn’t stop with his face and shaves his whole head.

My date sits down at the table and smiles at me. Let’s call him Cody.Cody is clearly not 35. Cody is lucky if he’s 45.

C- You don’t look 35…

J- Neither do you.

C- I hear that a lot.

.. … ….. … .. …. …. Incidentally I have nothing to say to that and I’m not being that too nice girl anymore so I’m letting his words hang in the air.

C- Ok… ha ha haaahh hhhaa I’m 42.

J- Oh good… well I’m 27 and my dad would be really mad if I dated anybody 42, sorry.

We sat and ate in silence and then he laughed and said..

C- I’m really 35, he’d be ok with that, right?

J- I’m 35, and I’m really just not interested.

C- That’s cool. It’s nice to hear the truth instead of some sick kid or shit like that.

J- Try being honest. Don’t lie about your age. Don’t lie, period and she wont have to lie back to you.

C- If you don’t lie, nobody will go out with you.

J- If you lie, they’ll only go out with you once.

We’re both right in some ways…. and we’re both wrong in so many ways too.

I’ve dated liars way more than once.


Way more than the honest guys, if I’m going to be honest as well.

C- So you wanna go out again?

J- No, Cody… I don’t. No offense.

C- Friends?

J- Absolutely. Thanks for this- it was oddly refreshing.

And I’m out…

Different sort of date and we never even touched on the crazy reason I picked him. He runs a Christian Youth Ministry that travels the world to cram Jesus down the Native’s throats.

The date was odd enough all by itself that we never even got to the point of unrolling the freak flags.

I’m putting my coat on when he walks out by the door and offers to walk me to my car. Instant bad feeling and I decline <I’ve learned to listen to that instinct, first & foremost.> He sees my tattoo on my foot and compliments me, then asks me to take my shoe off so he can see the whole thing. I slip my foot out of my shoe and he smiles at me.

C- Nice toes.

Creepy. See? Bad feelings don’t lie. He offers to drive me to my car and I decline, knowing he has to go one way away from where I am and I’ll be in and gone before he can follow me. Creepy, right? This is the feeling this guy inspires.

One more for the record books…

Internet dating is nothing short of earning your wings in heaven…

Honestly though? I think I’d rather pay for sex than suffer through all this nonsense.

Truth, Whine/Rant

It’s Official.

I’m giving up men for Lent.

I kicked the habit with a hell of an example within reach… far more than just the proverbial straw that broke the camels back.

I’m a glutton for punishment. I set this moment in motion hours ahead of time. I ask for this.

Hard to admit… but so so true.

He’s just not that into me…. and it hits me as I’m walking out in the midst of his “you’re a really nice girl…” speech.

I’m tapping out, with no one to blame but myself.

I have the worst taste in men, imaginable. Seriously…. to the point I could write a bestseller about my disastrous love life.

There’s a few must haves that guarantee I’ll like you.

1. Don’t call. Yeah ever. That’s hot… Ok I so don’t understand this about myself… but my gawd it works. Insult me with your disinterest and I’ll love you forever.

Reason #1 I should not be dating.

2. Cheat… or just care so little about me that you’re still shopping. That’s awesome. Something all the men I’ve been attracted to in the last year have in common, as well. 90% of them feeling completely comfortable shopping right in front of me.

Reason #2 I’m climbing out of the pool.

3. Lie to me. Frankly the truth seems to suck a lot worse from my perspective right now, so I’m not really kidding about this one. Blah.

Reason #3… As a service to womankind I should not be allowed to date until I stop encouraging men to be liars.

#4. Reject me, criticize me, make me doubt myself? I’m completely clueless as to why this is attractive to me…. but damn. I have to admit it’s a pattern they all have in common.

Plenty of reasons why NOT.

I’m done torturing myself.

I’ve officially had it.

I can’t be trusted. My taste in men is detrimental to my health.

Nice doesn’t do it for me.

and BONUS points for February, apparently?

I knew early on, just looking at the situation unfold in front of me…

Three men seated in front of me, all beautiful. All ironed. All clean cut smelling amazing goodness.

My favorite dimpled sales rep is brazenly flirtatious and so damn cute it’s ridiculous. Frat boy delicious with a career.

The new guy is like Barbie’s counterpart Ken, come to life. Tall, broad shoulders, well dressed, in shades of purple even. He’s a visual treat…. and armed with nice words.

S- He told us we were going to a place where there were these hot sisters, pretty girls…etc. He exaggerates sometimes but he wasn’t lying. You’re a very pretty girl.

No I’m awkward now and walking away. The one guy out of three not saying anything nice? Yeah… I want that one.

If I ever complain, ever again, about the bad men in my life? Throw a fucking brick at me, because I create my own hell.

I’m swimming in good options and I only like bottom feeders.

In an entire orchard… I have an uncanny knack for biting into the one apple with a worm.

I joked about it with my sister last night…

J- I think I speak douche bag.

P- Yeah you do, fluently.

Ouch… but yeah… if it’s one thing I can pick out of a room full of men… it’s that guy we all need to try to avoid because he leaves so much to be desired.

I’m going to internet date for material and that’s it. Maybe it’s mean, but oh well- it can’t be worse than this.

I’ve been nice for long enough, I’m going to try being a nightmare for a while.

Nice girls are just as screwed as nice guys and I’ve never been a pain in the ass so perhaps that’s what I’m missing.

……Just as soon as I wash the disappointment of February off.

I’m so thankful there’s only a week left in this nightmare month.

Friends, Happiness, Truth


I’ve refused to even consider having a gun in my house since I was barely 20 years old. I grew up with Buddhist parents, and we were beaten with the constant threat of bad Karma… not a belt or a frustrated hand. We knew early on that our actions determined our results in life, and that it was extremely important to walk calmly and peacefully through life… or make amends.

I apologize too much… I know this.

I see the good in people long after it’s gone… and my friends and family are worried constantly because I consistently regret it. It’s a mixed blessing really, and though it costs me dearly at times, I’d rather see the good than be jaded.

I trust deeply and it takes a lot for you to damage that trust to the point it’s irreparable.

But once I’m there… there’s no going back. Ever seen the movie Enough? She just keeps on dealing with it and apologizing and then one day… she snaps. I’m the most sensitive girl on earth, with a stainless steel spine.

One of my guy friends stopped by this morning and took me to go shooting… telling me he was sick of my baditude. Throwing a pair of jeans and my boots at me.

Ugh. I’m cool spending the day off alone… but no. He throws a Lunchable at me when I shut the door and I’m happy… until he starts in on me.

D- If you aren’t going to smile I”m taking you back home.

J- It’s a helluva two weeks, that’s all.

D- Yeah. My brother hung himself this morning.

I’m speechless. I don’t know what to say or do and my own little pity party ended abruptly.

J- Oh my God… pull over.

He does… and I start to get all choked up. I reach to hug him and he starts laughing.

D- I’m such a dick… I’m kidding, but do you see how other people have way worse problems? Come on, you’re pretty, you’re sweet and you don’t need to leave to find love. We all love you just fine.

J- You are such a dick, come on, teach me how to shoot at you.

These are the people who keep me real.

We pull up to his Grandpa’s hayfield and he throws a Carhart jacket over my sweatshirt, laughing at me, and shoves me out the passenger side door. I’m a little sick to my stomach to think about touching a gun, to tell you the truth…. and he knows it from the smile on his face as he thrusts it into my hands. My heart is racing and I’m absolutely positive if I drop it it will kill us both simultaneously and he’s bent over, laughing… and takes it back out of my hands.

D- Ohhh the wordy Princess is afraid of guns??? That’s classic.

J- That’s not funny, be nice to me.

D- Quit feeling sorry for yourself and come help me put the saddles on.

J- Awww really? You’re the best, I would have come with you without hesitating if you’d told me there were horses involved.

He chucks a blanket at me and points me in the direction of my horse’s bridle. I start singing the Selena Gomez song that’s haunting me and he threatens to make me carry the gun on my horse. I know when to shut up.

My saddle is too loose… and he wont stop calling me an amateur, but he helps me tighten it and shoves me up and on to the saddle. Ahhh. There’s really nothing so therapeutic as a quiet ride in the snow. I’m so thankful for these quiet moments- this is what keeps me balanced and keeps my life at peace. Simplicity.

Sigh… the trees are lightly dusted, like God shook powdered sugar on the whole meadow. The other horses are voicing their displeasure loudly at not getting to come along… and I’m easing back into the saddle. It’s been a while, and I’m a little nervous. Nothing a nice quiet ride can’t fix.

Yeah right… my asshole friend digs his heels in and goes tearing off… and being that I weigh less and my horse is determined to keep up, I’m hanging on for dear life with every muscle in my body. I see that he’s laughing as we catch up and I blow by him, flipping him the bird, while slowing down so he can catch up and walk next to me. I have no idea where he’s taking me so it’s not the time to show him up.

D- Wanna cut through the woods? You’ve jumped before, right? I’ll let you know when so you don’t fall off.

J- Absolutely!

Ten minutes through the woods and I’m in love again. I have a barn… I could totally have a horse. <FYI, I’m fully aware how delusional this line of thought is, don’t worry>. The trail empties out into a big open field and we hop off and tie the horses up.

He loads the gun… which is interesting to me,in and off itself. I like puzzles… bullets feel a little like that when you’re loading the chambers.

It’s kind of… hot. Really. There’s something tantalizing about the whole process.

He wraps his arms around me and wraps my hands around the trigger and I’m a little breathless. I feel a little… hmmm… dangerous?

If anything I kinda wish I had heels and a cape on to really enjoy this moment, lol…

It’s cold and I don’t like gloves. The cold metal is heavier than I thought it’d be and I’m intimidated by it. He smells like shaving cream, cologne and sawdust… Country boy delicious, arming me with a deadly weapon.

He laughs from behind me, and aims the gun for me…. putting his finger over mine on the trigger and pulling it for me. I closed my eyes and leaned back into his chest and he smacked me in the side of the head.

D- You cannot close your eyes and you have to aim.

We both start laughing.

I suppress the “I’ve been an adequate pain in the ass” giggles… and I feel his chest against my back, his arms against mine, pressing my hands together.

D- You can keep them closed the first time. Get a feel for it and I’ll do the rest.

J- lol… that’s what he said.

I can feel his heart racing against my back and his breathing is shallow… with the muscles in his arms jumping against my goosebump covered arms and I’m acutely aware of his breath on my neck.

D- It scares you, your hands are shaking. Now picture someone coming into your home and taking something from you. Breathe… let it turn you on. You’re not taking shit from anyone, ever again. Are you? Come on. Get mad. Show me you’re not the pushover people assume you to be. Oh Jenni… full of words and what? Where’s your balls darlin? That’s a pretty daughter you have…

And I pull the trigger immediately…. which is followed by a huge explosion…my ears are plugged and he’s coughing. Huh. Yeahh…. that was awesome… and I love the smell of gunpowder.

He made me open my eyes the next time.

He made me pull the trigger myself the time after that…and if you haven’t done it… exercise your right to bear arms at your earliest convenience because it’s fantastic. Time for a shooting range in my backyard.

He even helped me pick out my very own on the way home.

D- Congratulations, you’re officially deadly. Keep your damn eyes open and you should be all set. Lessons start next week, I’ll go with you.

I was scared to death to try… and found out I actually really love it. A perfect reminder that doing something that scares you doesn’t always end badly.


Unless you’re stupid enough to break into my house.