The Swiping Game

Of course I didn't go cold turkey. Who could? I had grown addicted to the attention. The physical rush that came with chatting, flirting, and planning...the first meeting. I wish I could say I wanted a steady boyfriend, fucktoy, or whatever you want to call it. But I don't think I actually did. That anticipation of having a complete stranger knock on my door for only one reason was exhilarating. It was my adrenaline rush. It was my high. My drug. I loved it. I remember trying to relay the feeling to a friend at lunch. "How does it make me feel to have hot 20 something strangers want to come over and ravage my body?" Fucking amazing. Of course it was a dangerous existence, especially for a woman living alone. Short and long term. I guess I'm lucky I didn't end up in pieces shattered across the city...or worse, with a STD. It was that lunch, though, with my friend where a slight shift in my trajectory took place. To back up a bit, this was a childhood friend.

In a matter of months I had done well, nearly equaling the number of conquests in my 20s but the bevy of beautiful boys coming through my door was growing hollow. (Insert joke here) I suppose it was never anything but hollow but it was fun. But the fun quickly waned and the hollow filled the space entirely. I didn't give up easily, tried my best to maintain it. To not avail. I wanted more. I needed something more. I ached for that elusive thing I hadn't felt yet. Not love...fuck that. I had been "in love". My whole life I had been the one hopelessly in love with some guy. Spent my time yearning for the reciprocation of said love . To no avail. I was the one without power because I was always the one who was more in love than the object of my affection. To make matters worse, I had learned my ex (husband, not aforementioned ex loser bf) had become serious with a girl. Yep, that pretty much put a nail in my coffin at the time. Obviously, I was still unable to make the

So...I download the Tinder app while getting the low down from my 25 year old coworker. What in the pluperfect hell? Swipe right if you like the way a person looks (no real personal details to speak of), swipe left if you don't like them (i.e. ugly). Sounds like a game, right? Or Hot or Not? Remember that one, old folks? She helped me pick photos, explaining they should be recent and varied. A selfie, a couple from "travels", full body pic so they can see you're hot, and maybe one with a girlfriend (to show that I actually have friends and not a crazy cat lady). I think back then Tinder still linked to Facebook so my age automatically propagated. She said "you should change that." Why, I asked. "Well you don't look over 40 and that could be someone's cut off age..." Gee, I suppose I would fudge it a bit. I put myself safely under 40. A few years younger wouldn't hurt. I was set to start swiping. She explained my settings. Pick a dista

Over the last couple of days I've been trying to think how to frame this initial trial into the "dating game" as to not place too much credit or blame on me or subject A. In considering this, for the life of me, I could not remember his goddamn name! Maybe Mike...could be? Seriously, I know it was a common name and it might very well BE Mike but honestly it could be anything else. So we will just stick with that. Real name or not, Mike it is. So I starting my online dating adventures simply enough. POF. Plenty O' Fish. More of a fast food restaurant title. An intended reference perhaps? God I hope so. But I thought it was a decent place to start. Profiles were rather involved and comprehensive. I was truthful but coy. Serious but playful. Posted recent, honest photos. Then sat back and watched the messages flood in. Literally it was like a part time job going through them at first. Of course I was "fresh meat" and the sharks smelled the chum in the water.

Okay, okay. I didn't start the swiping apps right away. Hell, I didn't even know they existed. I did what any normal, spiraling out of control woman would do...I looked up an old flame. So typical, so expected. However I took it a step further, I actually entertained the possibility of happily ever after with it! Never mind the past, what happened back in the day (and boy, THAT was a doozy. He was probably a narcissist as well but the pathological liar really out shined everything else. Granted he had been through quite a bit, real or imagined, but dang...I could sure pick'm). We had our rendezvous, talked about a "future". I still remember seeing him for the first time, immediately thinking "what the fuck happened to that good looking kid?" B had gotten fat, buzzed his hair, and well, gotten fucking fat. But as soon as he opened his mouth and spoke my name, I was mush. He even kissed the same, kiss me the same way he did when we were only 19. I felt lik

I've been kicking around the idea of starting a blog for a few years. I don't see it having any intrinsic value, so it's really just personal. Most of it will be factual, my horrific memory will probably lead me to inaccuracy. Names will be altered to protect the innocent...and guilty. The time line will be a bit off to be sure. I am going to do my best to account for the last 4 years of my life, as it relates to men...and women. This will not be for the faint of heart. My main topic will be my "adult" interactions with people. Not just sexual, but quite a bit of that. I will swear, probably quite a bit. So consider yourself warned. If you're offend by anything I write, you are welcome to fuck right off. We will begin at...the start of my second act. I was newly divorced, having severed myself from a marriage which had slowly been suffocating me. I chose a narcissist to marry, probably before I even knew the meaning of the word. In hindsight I fell into my c