Ask… and you shall receive.


I deleted Tinder. Or at least ghosted a few dozen hopeful men and let it default to my being away on vacation. Someone recommended Bumble… and I love bees so I was immediately pleased with the little hive icons and the fabulous feature that only allows men to contact you after you’ve made the first move.  No rif-raf, frat boys or dirty old perverts… amen.

In the space of a week, my hive filled up with a beautiful brown assortment of men far too young to take seriously, a few educated men my own age and two exceptions.

One shark and one gentleman.

Now once upon a time I only dated sharky men. You know the type. He looks at you intently and you feel undressed. He’s confident, successful, wealthy and bold. He has a plan for you and it’s not always in your best interests. He smells incredible, kisses like he made it up and has the sexual repertoire I crave in a man.

Bachelor #1 is a Great White shark. He’s well traveled, extremely successful and well read. He wants to take me to dinner, dessert… and breakfast the next morning if I’ll let him. (Don’t worry, I won’t) Pictures AND video(s) of his equipment…He’s very interested, has already scheduled out to date 5 and is pulling out all the stops to impress me. I have a scorching hot date with him on Saturday night and am actually excited for the first time in a long time. He’s short, pretty and owns a bookstore complete with yarn. Be still my heart.

But I haven’t ended up anything but injured as a result of my Shark habit and I’m supposed to have grown up and learned from my hardest days, right?

So a gentleman doesn’t sound awful.

Bachelor #2 is a tall black gentleman making it very difficult for me to want to swim with a predator. I wake up to sweet, respectful wishes from him, that I have a great morning. He texts me at lunch with hopes my day is unfolding easily. Facetimes me while he makes incredible dinners for one. No dick pics or discussion of anything sexual. He wants to take me out for coffee after he gets through his finals. He’s graduating from a prestigious university this spring and is every bit as interesting as he is genuine. His intentions have been made as well, and he would like to date me exclusively… before the first date. Over the top, whines about his ex and is… well… a bit boring.

Internet dating is bizarre. Whoever thought you’d see his dick before your first date? Technology isn’t always the most romantic and I’d rather not see it pop up on my phone, to be honest.

Saturday should be fun, weird… or both.

Monday morning coffee with the gentleman should be sweet, boring… or both.

I’ll let you know. 🙂

Mr. Panacea


The Songbird has been chirping loudly at me for months.

S- Dude. I don’t get it, but if he isn’t coming after you, then walk away.

J- I’m trying.

S- No, you’re not. You need to fuck somebody else. This has gone on for far too long. I hate seeing you suffer like this.

J- I’m not….

She raises an eyebrow and stares me down.

J- Ok. You’re right. I just don’t even want to go through the motions. I’m hating Tinder. It just makes me feel worse.

S- Oh my GODDDDD…. no more Tinder. You don’t need to meet strangers on the internet. Yeesh.

and there you have it. My beautiful friend has been trying for ages to get me to come out and play. She’s also been emphatically urging me to unwrap a new piece of candy.

Everybody is sick of me whining and the stress I’m drowning in personally and professionally has me wound tightly enough to make me annoying.  I hadn’t slept the night before last and spent part of the day in tears, so I’d definitely reached the end of my rope.

I went to meet the Songbird and ran into the Sushi King, who has come back to town to make all my dining dreams, a reality. They bonded instantly. Nothing makes me happier than when my people meet each other and become friends. Mine are the cream of the crop and I love when they hit it off, especially when I’ve had a wretched month(s). Beers, laughter and two of my favorite people making the whole world, right again.

I’m going to be just fine. I may even sparkle again. I’m awfully lucky to have friends determined to remind me that I’m wasting my time if he’s not interested. While telling me he’s an idiot for not being.

It was all routine shenanigans until I ran into Mr. Panacea, a friend of mine with quite a naughty twinkle in his eyes.

Uh oh.

I’ve had 4 hours of sleep, worked an 11 hour day and am knee deep in Kokanee beer. I’m in no shape to make good decisions. The Songbird is grinning at me. I can feel the heat of his leg against mine and the devil on my shoulder is singing my favorite song.

What the hell. It’s the only thing I haven’t tried to do to get over him.

As it turns out, it does help to kiss someone else… especially when it’s really good. Hours of great sex help rip off the bandaid, or at the very least… throw a wrench in the highlight reel that’s been torturing me on repeat for months. Fingerprints bruised into my skin, sore muscles and hungover morning sex. Amen.

Dull exhaustion has replaced the heartache in my chest and a smug smile has cleared the permanent frown from my forehead. Say what you will, he saved all of you from my endless whining and me from snapping like a dry twig. I slept for 13 hours last night and feel like myself again for the first time in months. I hate not being able to get back to this point on my own, but I have so much love and respect for the help.

A good friend will make you feel better… but a great friend will donate his body to the cause. 🙂