Drama-free. (my fave)

The list goes on, and on…and on. And I mean it just doesn’t stop. The list. THE LIST, people. The list of things that men want. Or what they say they want. I took it from websites, and dating sites, and right from the horses’ mouths. I made a list. And I am sharing it with all y’all right flipping now. And do you want to know why? Well, you know I’m gonna tell you, so just sit there and read. I have compiled this “list” off of Tinder, and Match.com…and JDate because it is just the biggest crock of bullshit I have ever read! That’s right. You heard me, and I am not leaving this blog entry until someone (and I mean a someone with a protruding body part) clears it up. Start messaging me, fellas. Hurvitz ain’t happy.

I just think when a guy says what they are looking for in a partner, they should be honest. I mean, is that so hard to do? Forget who you are as a person, for now. We all know, when you show up for your first meeting…and you are 20lbs heavier than your pix on JDate, you are fucked. Not my problem, it’s yours. If you say you don’t smoke, and then you whip out a cigarette, fucked again. You just can’t lie. Who wants to start off any kind of anything based on a lie? But this is not what I’m talking about here. I am talking about being real about what you want from the other person. What you are expecting the other person to bring to the table. The meat. The guts…the goods.

What do you really want from this woman? 

Is it sex? Chemistry. Is it a nice pair of tits, and a firm ass? Do you want to go to the bar every Thursday night, drink beer…and never talk to me other than that? Are you hoping for a blow job in your car, and dinner on every third Monday of the month? Maybe you want to get married? Who cares! Just lay it all out there, because otherwise I’m just left guessing. And I hate trying to read your mind. You are like a sad puppy, and I want to smack the shit out of you. Dating is like trying to read brail. Or a treasure map, in Japanese. It shouldn’t be this hard. And most of the time, I end up thinking you don’t like me, and I dump your ass. But really, you do…like me, that is. Why didn’t you just say it? Use your words. YOUR WORDS. Cause fucking me, and staying the night… just doesn’t cut it.

Wanna know what I really think?

I think that technology has made it impossible for men and women to interact face-to-face. It’s making it hard for us to “use our words”. We have become so used to this immediate gratification-thing with our fingers, popping out an emoji to express a feeling. So sad. :(  I think we need to start going old school, and date like we did before we could text. Pull the plug on all the cyber shit. Just stop all the Pre-Dating Cyber Foreplay. Do you know what I’m talking about? Instead of spending hours, and days…sometimes weeks texting, ask her out! This “cyber-foreplay” that comes before the date, is fun… but it has to stop! It’s creating these false feelings, and fake visions of what is to come. It’s not real. And we say things in text we might not say so early on in person. I mean it! There is safety behind the screen. And then, we meet this person…at a Starbucks, and we can’t have a normal conversation. It’s all weird, and funky. And strained. I mean you already know my favorite ice cream, my middle name…and my favorite sexual position. Sweet, look me in the eye now, Mr. Hookah.

That’s it, don’t text me anymore. If you want to talk to me, call me. No, better yet…come over and knock on my front door. I will be giving numbers like at the Harris Teeter Deli Counter. When I call yours,  you may enter. And then you will be given a 12 minute talk session. Make sure you bring your list of “wants” in a relationship. Oh, I have a pit-bull, and a large black man that lives with me. So no funny stuff, got it? ;)

xo j





Great ass.

Nice face.

All his hair, omg…there is no way.

And he is Jewish? Come on. In Charlotte?

No ring. He’s single!

Call the Rabbi, and book the Temple.


He’s all mine, bitches. All mine. And I will fight you for him, I swear to Goddess, I will. I’ve tried to date the non-jews, and it just didn’t work out so well. Those nice goyem men just can’t handle a Jap like me. I talk to fast, and I bitch to much…and I order my food to damn dry. I swear, I went on Match.com, and the fishy site…and Hi-HO-Tinder. I did them all. The sites, not the men. And failed miserably, but this single-sexy-yid I will piss on if I have to. Just to mark my territory. Like a dog on a freshly mowed patch of grass…I will cop a squat, and take a nice warm, pee-pee on this man. Gross. I am not pissing on anyone, ok? But you get my point. This yummy boy is not to be shared. No can do. And you can’t do, him. Get it?


Hmmm. I am going to have to get his attention. He is looking at me, looking at him. Wait for it, Jen. Don’t be a loser…pretend you are texting. Ya. Or, I could actually text. Duh, I text like all the time. Omg. He’s totally looking at me!! No, he is looking at the woman sitting next to me. Fuck her. What does she have that I don’t have? If she is smarter, he can’t tell by looking at us. Phew! And I clearly have better Botox. Do I have something on my face? Shit. Hey, have y’all ever used your iPhone camera as a mirror? OMG how smart is that? Ya know, you flip the camera around…so you are actually taking a selfie, but you’re not really gonna take a pic! And then you can see yourself. Genius. Hold on, stop reading. Try it! Go on..flip the camera around. See! Nothing on my face. And look how adorable he thinks I am… I’m watching my boys play basketball! I am such a hot-sports-mom. He is thinking, “Wow. What a MILF. And she is an athletic supporter.” That’s right. I am quite the fan of all things athletically supported. But I am not a MILF, anymore. Boo. Cougar, maybe? ha.


So, here I am, totally cute and sweet. And I am interacting in a basketballish kind of way with my boys. I mean what could be sexier than that? And I’m playing all shy, and making eye contact from across the JCC gym. And he’s shooting hoops with his little boy, awwww. (not really, the kid is dirty. I hate dirty kids) And I can feel the energy, the chemistry. I know this is it. He is wanting me, yearning for me. OMG. He is totally coming towards me!!! Holy shit balls. Suck in your fat Jen, and stick out your tits. Sit up straight, asshole! This is it! It’s probably the only hot Jew in all of Charlotte! This could be, your next ex-husband….


“Ummm…Hi, I know this is a funny question. But are you the girl that writes that crazy male-bashing blog?” It’s so funny, as the words were coming out of his mouth…I noticed there was this white, gooey build up in the corners. And I think he had this greenish booger attached to one of his nostril hairs, too. And I could barely listen to what he was saying, because I was so distracted by his nasty-ass breath. “Male-bashing blog? Oh, no. Not me! You must be thinking of someone else. I’m the girl that writes the blog about all the fucking losers I’ve been out with since my divorce. Why, did you want to try your luck, and take me to dinner?”

And such a pretty face, why do they have to go and ruin it by opening their big, fat fucking mouths? Oh, I’m sorry. Is this that crazy male-bashing blog? ha. ;)
xo j

I am done.

Done with Match.com.

Done with J-Date.

Done with anything that has a penis.

Ya, I know, I’ve said it before. And I’ll probably say it again…and again.

But I am totally over it all, for now.

Damn fucking guys. I swear, they are all so full of shit! The last one I went out with, had a girlfriend. True story. While he was on a date with me, his poor girlfriend was at home…doing the dishes. Probably thinking he was at the mall, buying her a nice pair of fuzzy slippers for Christmas. Or a slinky nightie. Or a new blender. Asshole. He was hanging out with me, being all fun…and witty,  and yummy. And I was loving it. Sucking all the bullshit up with a straw, while that stupid-twinkie was home, just siting there. Watching re-runs of Sex and the City, and planning her wedding. Jesus. What a loser. Him, not her. She is a fool. With a CAPITAL F-O-O-L. Fool. Him, loser. Her, fool. Me, done. Done with a fork in me. Dammit.

Which leads me to this question…

Are you a penguin? 

Don’t stop reading. I’m as serious a bad case of herpes, y’all. Just hear me out. Stay here, and listen. I was just told, that Emperor Penguins are the ONLY species in the entire Universe that are serially MONOGAMOUS. Yup. You heard me. They are. I Googled it, and it’s true!! Believe me if you want. Or just go with it, and shut the fuck up. Penguins only have ONE mate…and they stay faithful to her. OMG!! How dang cute is that? So sweet. I love it. I want to date a Penguin! Actually, when I was little….we adopted one at the Detroit Zoo. You can do that, you know? Adopt a bird. Or any animal you want. I think. Anyways, I digress…what I want you to ask yourself is…

Are you a fucking PENGUIN, or what? Ya know, are you capable of being monogamous? 

Cause listen, guys. I happen to know that is like physically impossible for you to keep your dicks out of a vagina. And I also believe that if you are not in your partner’s puss, then you will find another puss to put it in. Wow. Say that 5 times fast. And yes, I just said that. And yes, I believe it to be true. Men need sex. Penguins need sex. Human beings need sex. Duh. It’s just how we are wired. But the question I’m asking today is, can we as HUMANS actually have sex with just ONE person for our entire lifetimes? Ok. I’m putting it out there, because I know you have asked yourself the same question. Don’t lie. Admit it! I mean, really! Are we Penguins, or not? I say no flippin’ way.  My opinion. My blog. My first amendment right. Freedom of Speech. ha. Now, I do think, there are people out there that are “penguins”, sure. They actually take their marriage vows seriously, and sleep with the person (or penguin) they are assigned to. I’m sorry, that was harsh. The person they picked. And I commend them. You are amaze-balls. And you get a prize. What’s the prize, you ask? Well, Bob, the prize today for staying faithful to your partner is….

The person you love for all eternity. And a whole lot of respect from the rest of us. Kudos. Props. And dammit, I think that’s quite a prize. And I mean that with total and complete sincerity.

But some of us aren’t so lucky. Some of us are just born to stray. I actually read an article that said there is a gene for cheating. A cheating gene. Like a gene for blue eyes? Or a gene for hammer toe. Or, like a gene for red hair. Which in less it’s on a girl, might as well be hammer toe. It’s actually found in WOMEN. Men, you’re safe…for now. This gene affects how women process oxytocin, What is oxytocin, you ask? It’s the “cuddle chemical”, and it gives us what we need to be affectionate with our partners. It’s the hormone associated with LOVE AND BONDING! OMG you guys, that is it!!! I need more OXYTOCIN so I can be a better PENGUIN!! Thank you Huffington Post, you just saved me like 10 years of therapy. Where can I get this oxytocin shiz? Can I spray it up my nose, or sprinkle it on my cereal…or better yet, can I slip it in my new guys coffee when we meet on our next Starbucks date? Holy shit. I am missing that A-allele gene. That explains everything. Check please!

Could you even imagine? hahaha. On my next Match-date, the dude gets up to go take a piss…and I pull a vile of “love potion” out of my purse. I pour it into his drink, kinda like a roofie! But it’s all natural, and homeopathic. I sound like an infomercial. Wait, don’t they have this shit already? Can’t I just eat oysters. Or watch porn? NO, it’s a hormone imbalance. And I think…everyone must be affected. Yes. Cause Mark couldn’t stand me. He never wanted to be near me. He said I made his skin crawl…And there is NO WAY it was because I was a total douche bag! He must have been a little feminine, and carried the gene for anti-cuddling!! Hmmmm. lol. I am going to hell. You do know that, right?

So, I was lunching with one of my best girlfriends, and she asked me, “Is cheating like the new thing these days, or what?” And I seriously answered, “Yes”. I swear, every time I turn around…some one is fucking someone else. Or this one is having a threesome with that one. Or he is sleeping with her stylist. Or she is doing his best friend’s, brother’s…sister’s babysitter. And really, I don’t think anyone is even surprised anymore. Really! Are you? When you hear about your friend that got cheated on? Do you even react like you used to 10 years ago? Not me. It just seems like everyday stuff. Sad. But so true. And I think, my generation is just used to getting everything we want. We are so fucking entitled. Things aren’t worth working for, including our marriages. Or our relationships, we give up too damn easily. Move on for the next best thing. The BBD. The bigger, better.. deal. Well. what a crock of shit. You think it’s any better on the other side, with someone else’s crap? It’s the same crap, different person. Blah. Blah….blah.

Hey, I’m not saying stay in a shitty marriage. Hell, life is too short. But if you once had a “penguin”,  and it’s a relationship worth saving…maybe you can clean up the cage. Pick up some penguin-poop. Pop some oxytocin, and go to therapy?  lol. You get the gist.  And look, this is just one woman’s opinion. I know I’m not perfect. Hell, I’m not even close. But I will learn from the mistakes I made in my marriage. I’m finding me some of that “cuddle chemical”, and I’m going to inject it into my veins. Then, I’m going to give it to my next boyfriend…and lock him in my house, for all eternity. And he will be mine….all mine!!! (maniacal laugh….maniacal laugh!)

And you know what? It’s going to be Happy fucking Feet when I’m done, if it’s the last thing I do. Happy Penguin Feet. ;)

xo j

I was talking to this guy.

And he lives in another state. Far, far….away.

Not another galaxy. But it seriously might as well be. It’s fucking Iowa.

I mean who lives in Iowa?

What is even in Iowa? Is it a real state? Do they have a State Bird, or tree? Do they have people? If they do, they are probably slow-talkers. Like here in Charlotte. lol. Sloooooow talkers. “Jennnn, whhhaatttcchhhaaa dooiiinnngggg???” hahhaa. No, no… I’m totally kidding. That didn’t sound slow. That sounded fucking stttooppid. omg. NO one in Charlotte speaks like that. Not one person. My friends are going to kill me for even implying that they sound like assholes. They may sound like hicks. and have dumb sounding accents….that clearly knock their IQs down a few points, but they do not sound like losers. In fact, when I’m with my best friend, Tammy…I start talking like her. Whatever. I do. Not gonna lie.  I love you, Charlotte. You are my home. My peeps. And you’ve been so dang good to me. Now, who the hell lives in Iowa?

Oh ya, this guy.

This yummy, sweet…delicious guy. He lives in IOWA. I-O-W-AAA. And he might eat chicken wings for breakfast, but he is amazing. And smart, and sexy. And he plays “haacky”. AKA, hockey. He calls it “puck”. Who calls HOCKEY “puck”? Only in Iowa. Anyways, Mr. Iowa thinks long distance relationships can work. We talk on the phone. We text. We Skype. And I think about his hot ass all day long. Wow. Really fun. Can you hear the sarcasm in my voice? I figure now that we have been blogfriends for awhile, you can pick up when I’m being facetious. Well, I am. I think long distance SUCKS! And what about when there is no end in sight? No light at the end of the tunnel. NO way I am ever going to be with this person that makes me smile all day, everyday! OMG I WANT TO CRY!!! Did he not read my profile? I am never leaving North Carolina. Dammit.

So, I have to put this out there…

What is the point of falling for a guy that is “geographically undesirable”?

Why, would any woman be so dumb as to walk into that fiery pit of doom? Knowing that it’s never going to work, and her life is just going to be filled with pain and a big, fat fucking broken heart?! WHY AM I SUCH A SUCKER FOR A SEXY PHONE VOICE, AND A GREAT SEXTER? ha. I am so in like. I dig this fella. He kinda rocks my world. He makes me smile. My phone “dings” and I go all gooey. I regress back into my teenage years when my palms got all sweaty, and my stomach flipped. Sigh. Mr. Iowa is a total dreamboat. A dreamboat with a job that landed him in the sticks. Or is it the styx? I think that’s an 80’s hair band. Domo Arigato, Mr. Roboto, Domo. Dang, I loved that song. Sticks. Right. BFE. Well, it’s BFE to me. He likes it there. In sunny IOOOWWAA. Where you need a passport to get there. Hmmm.

But, I am stuck in Charlotte. Actually, I wouldn’t say stuck. More like, stable. My kids are content here. Their Dad is here. They are happy here. I am happy here. Our life is here. And haven’t we all been through enough change over the past year? Isn’t it the boys turn to have a little stability? I know, you’re all thinking, “kids are resilient, and they will be happy if I’m happy”. But what if I am happy in Charlotte? What if…seeing my boys happy makes me happy? I feel like I’ve made some huge mistakes over the last year. And I’ve learned that I’m super impulsive. I never look before I leap, right? And hey, I think that’s okay sometimes. I wear my heart on my sleeve, and that’s okay, too. I’m vulnerable, and I put myself out there. Fuck, if I don’t, how will I ever fall in love?

I want to be in love again. I really do. I just love being in love. (cue music.)

I can not let geographically undesirable” stop me. I just can’t! Whether a guy lives in Nashville, or Detroit… or Tulsa, or India….if he is the one for me, then he will understand that Charlotte is my home.  And I’m happily stuck. Stuck, and happy. And here for the long haul. Or at least until my boys go to college. Which really isn’t that far away. Jeez. Now I’m getting a little lump in my throat…gulp. And maybe, having a guy live in another state is a GOOD thing! He won’t be all up in my shit. And bugging me all the time. Asking me where I am, and what I’m doing. And annoying the fuck out of me. I can spend my weeks with my boys, alone. And totally focus on them. OMG. I love this plan. And then, when I have my weeks away from the boys…I can focus on my new guy!! I am totally loving “geographically undesirable”, aren’t you?!

So if Jdate finds me a 100% match-er-roo that just happens to live in DC, or Kentucky… or Greenville, then I’m just going to have to invest in a good long distance plan. And learn how to look good on my iPhone camera. I mean how hard can it be to lose 10lbs? And don’t you even pretend that you haven’t had phone sex or Skype-sex! This is the age of technology, peeps! Cyber sex is all you’ve got if you plan on giving up on the local dating scene. Broaden your horizons….and open your dating world.  It’s time to branch out of our hometowns, and see men in other places as prospective partners! I feel great about this!

Now, if I could just convince Mr. Iowa to be with me. Or Mr. South Carolina. Or…Mr. Florida, or Mr. India. Or even Mr. Fucking Atlanta. Shit. Well, I do know this…the best thing about “Geographically Undesirable”, is when you finally get together in a room…there is nothing “undesirable” about you. For hours, and hours…and hours. ;)

xo j