match.com

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

Age is only a number. 

Beauty is in the eye of the beholder. 

You are only as young as you feel. 

Beauty is only skin deep. 

You can’t judge a book by it’s cover. 

Love is blind….

I spent like forever, explaining these cliches to my boys. Cliches are kinda hard for kids to understand, right? They are confused by there hidden meaning, and lack of original thought. Often overused and trite. And they rarely even make much sense at all. But I use them ALL the time. Figures. I am the Queen of the Cliche. My kids are super-sick of them,  as I run around the city singing from the rooftops…those in glass houses…. or, two birds in a bush! Or my all time fave, the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree! Ha. Jonah just doesn’t get them, and Zac, he just wants to kick my ass. But recently, J&Z have been interested specifically in cliches discussing “physical attributes”.  And why you ask?

Let me explain…

Well, I’m about to win “Mother of the Year”. This one is good…

I’ve let them into my world. My dating arena. Yup. I have. Oh, shut it. And stop your judging… let me finish before you start hemming and hawing. I let them join in the fun on Match. com, and JDate. Pick up your jaws. What’s done is done! I can’t un-ring the bell. ha. I’ve actually decided to let them voice their little pre-pubescent opinions, and ya know why? Because they are the most important men in my life. And they think it’s cool. So, we sit on the couch, and we read the profiles, and talk about what these yo-ho’s have written. And they see what they look like, and what they do for a living. If they have dogs, or cats. Do they have kids? Jonah is all for the kiddos. Zac, not so much. But we discuss, and talk….and they feel like they actually have a small part in what I’m doing. And I let them have a bit of input. A touch of control over this mess of a life I’ve handed them. We never make fun of the guys. we just discuss. Ok, well.. maybe we poke a little fun. We don’t like certain sunglasses. And some of the guys carrying shovels, or power tools get a chuckle.

But most importantly, I used this as an opportunity to talk about how there are different strokes for different folks. lol. And what I find attractive may not be the same thing that another person may dig. And if J thinks a girl is cute at school, it doesn’t mean that his friends will agree. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder... and Jonah completely got it. Phew. A good lesson learned. My work is done here. Cliches at their finest. The Queen has spoken…

But is love really blind?  

Aren’t we really just judging these “books” by their covers? 

Do people honestly believe that beauty is more than skin deep? 

I have to vent. Duh. And share something that totally pisses me off about this dating crap. If the old cliche holds true, and people really do believe that it’s what’s inside that counts…why do these guys LIE? Why do these men post pictures of themselves from 4 years ago? Why are they so afraid to tell the truth about who they are, and where they are in their lives NOW? And it’s not just the men, I get it. It’s the women, too. But I’m only looking for men.. sorry. lol.  I call them “10-20’s”. 10 years older, and 20 lbs heavier. I heard that from a guy friend of mine, and I almost plotzed. How flippin funny is that? 10-20’s. I actually had a great guy once tell me he was “advised” by his people to lie about his age. I shit you not. His friends told him to “adjust” his age, because he looked much younger than he actually was. Come on!! How can you start a relationship based on a lie?

Now, here is the most disappointing thing that has ever happened to me, since I started this whole thing. I started talking (texting and calling) this guy from a dating site. He was funny. He was smart. And successful. Almost TGTBT. And girls, when a man is too good to be true…he usually is. Am I right? I shoulda sensed it. Or smelled his bullshit from a mile away. But no.. I was hooked. He was super-sexy. He said all the right things. Yummy. But he never asked me out. His profile pix were hot!!! He was slim, and tall. In fact, there were surfing pictures. Him on a SURF board! And it read, 175lbs, 6 feet. I was ready for our date. But first, let’s go to a little back story about me. I love men. I don’t care what they look like. And my friends from the D can attest to it. In my past.. I have dated them all. Every shape and size…as long as they make me laugh, I don’t care. If he’s good to me, and makes me smile….he could be 60 years old, and 350.

We finally went out. Sadly, he lied about everything. From his age, to his weight. To his height…and what he did for a living. I was so floored, I was actually quiet. Me, silent. But in my heart of hearts, I couldn’t muster up enough chutzpah to tell him to fuck off! I thought, what if it was Jonah? Or my little brother? So… I sat at dinner. And I was sad. I had spent time, and energy on this person…who had lied. Lied and truly, hurt my feelings. And if he knew the person I am, he would have realized that if he was HONEST in the first place, I wouldn’t have given two shits about his age, or size. I would have probably hung out with him just the same. Dumb bunny.

So, I thanked him for dinner. And hugged him goodbye. Told him it wasn’t a “Love Connection”, and we never spoke again. Not sure who felt worse at that point? If I was a betting girl, I’d say we both felt like big pieces of shit. Me, for not getting over his looks. Or his man boobs. Or his flat out deception. Or him, for thinking he couldn’t be himself, and still get a date. Ugh. And the worst part of the entire thing? I lost a friend. A really, cool friend.Wait, who has a good cliche for this scenario? I need to “circle around”! Pull the whole thing together. Fuck. Now I’m depressed. I feel like a bad person, and I can’t close my dang blog! What kind of writer am I?

I got it!
Everything happens for a reason.
Perfect. This person came into my life for a purpose. To teach me a lesson. And when I told my boys about what happened, they didn’t laugh. Which made me proud. In fact, they felt really bad for the guy. And they asked me why I was “judging a book by it’s cover.” Ha. I guess they really do get it, huh? See, something good came out of this nightmarish situation. And look, I did win “Mom of the Year”, after all.And what else did I take away from this? Something I can share with my readers that I think is critical information? Always, and I mean ALWAYS,  ask for a FULL BODY SHOT prior to the date! A full frickin’ body shot, ladies…the day of. Or it’s a no-go! ! Amen! ;)

xo j