Tonight over pizza and drinks with Megatropolis (thank you!), we discovered that we share a common dating problem: death of a relationship by birth control. It’s happened to me with my last two boyfriends. When I’m all “good,” ready to rock and roll on birth control, the relationship takes a nose dive.
Has anyone else had this problem? Surely Megatropolis and I aren’t the only two who’ve suffered from the birth control curse.
Another dating problem I’ve encountered: I’m ready to date, only I’m not ready to date here. I don’t want to date anyone in Utah (insert bitching about weird Utah dating scene), which is pretty fucking inconvenient, considering I’m officially a Utahrd.
Categories:I have more batteries for my vibrators than Too $hort h, boys are the dumb, cobwebs in my privates?, emotional impotency is not hawt, hell is for single people
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Just because you take a muscle relaxant and you feel like a noodle, doesn’t make it OK to tell your mother about the guy you dated who only had one ball. And the silence following your disclosure does not get more comfortable when you babble incessantly about the one-baller.
Categories:All About Pants, hell is for single people, if anyone needs me I'll be drinking in my closet, stupid back, where's my medicine?
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“You ruined my chances with a woman.”
“Like a woman you were on a date with?”
(Insert vague reference using the words “woman” and “house.”)
“Well, that’s weird since we haven’t even met. How exactly did I ruin your chances?”
“She saw your picture on my computer-”
“Stop the bus! Did you just say she saw my picture on your computer?”
“Yeah.”
“Which one?”
“The cute one, with the GOOD GIRL knuckles.”
“You are SO my new stalker! We haven’t even met and you’re using pictures from my dating profile as your desktop background?”
“It makes me smile.”
“I hope you didn’t let her see the creepy stalker shrine you must be building.”
“Of course not.”
“Did you light a candle before you called me?”
(Silence)
Categories:hell is for single people, skin suit
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Lands’ End bathing suits are getting cute and I’m gold to the online oldies.


Random thought:
I’ve always thought that each person has many potential soul mates, matches, partners etc. Though I’m beginning to wonder if my potential matches have been run over by trains, sniffed too much airplane glue, live in less “red” states, are stuck in loveless relationships, lack the ability to hold onto something good when they’ve fucking got it, frustrated into celibacy by dating, preemptively received vasectomies or realized they’re gay.
Whatever the reason, I wish he’d hurry the fuck up and find me; I’d like someone to watch scary movies with, followed by oversexed sleep overs.
Categories:boys are the dumb, hell is for single people
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I had an ex-boyfriend start up with text messages this weekend. It’s been a year and a half since we broke up. He seems to contact me at least once (via, email or text) every six months. Like a good girl, who cares about her head and heart, I don’t respond. But he continues to contact me.
What will finally make him give up? Perhaps nothing, until he’s turned me into a skin suit that he wears while he sits on his piece of shit couch, getting high, drinking light beer and playing Xbox live.
Categories:I have more batteries for my vibrators than Too $hort h, I’ve lost that loving feeling, boys are the dumb, emotional impotency is not hawt, hell is for single people
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I’ve joined a new dating website, at the suggestion of a friend. It’s been interesting so far, but mostly because I’m forwarding things to my friend with messages like, “My milkshake brings all the oldies to the yard!” Or the ever popular, “I know it’ll be hard but try not to touch yourself when you see how hot this guy is (not).”
Since witnessing some of the horrific attention I receive on the internets my friend suggested I write a book about dating and the men (freaks) who are into me; he says it’ll be a best seller. Maybe if the dating memoir market is keen to the type of singledom details that make a person yearn for the simplicity of celibacy.
Some highlights thus far include:
Someone complimenting my green eyes, which is kind of weird, because my eyes are waaaaaay blue.
I am gold to the forty to fifty-something, snowmobiling, huntin’ crowd. If I were to move I could like totally be the Kelly Taylor of Ketchum, Idaho.
For the love of God and all that isn’t holy, stop posting shirtless profile pictures! Especially creepy shower shots. Welcome to my thought process:
The shower? Really? That is so weird. Did he take that nasty picture of himself all soaped up with a time delay and camera perched on the edge of the sink? Or is this the fruit of his most recent creepy love affair? Maybe his roommate took it? Ew. Next!
I got my first proposition from a married dude with an eight inch cock who is happy to send me “pictures” (choking back vomit). He’s free to meet “anytime morning, afternoon or evening and almost any day; even now.” Desperate much? There are so many levels of wrong it’s difficult to know where to start – but I’m going out on a ledge and begin with the fact that he’s MARRIED! And he did everything short of arrange a BDSM safety word. Disgusting much?
It’s a good thing I have a night stand full of batteries.
Categories:Assholes, I have more batteries for my vibrators than Too $hort h, hell is for single people, my milkshake brings all the hobos to the yard
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Three days later, I am happy to have officially survived both the death flu and the ending of my most recent, be it brief, relationship. I feel more upbeat, happy and generally OK than I thought I would. Oddly enough, I think I have the death flu to thank for this. One of my friends suggested that my violent stomach flu was actually my body purging myself of Him. I thought she was wrong but it turns she was right.
Today I ran across an old episode of This American Life that focused on breakups. I almost didn’t listen to it because I was afraid that if I did, I would realize that I’m not really as OK as I feel; that the sad-break-up-bunny would hop up behind me and smack me on the back of the head, a la Little Bunny Foo Foo.
Now that I’ve listened to it, I’m really glad I didn’t wimp out. This American Life confirmed what I thought might be happening; I am totally OK. (Whew!) Sure, I liked him. Sure, I’m disappointed. But what I have learned this time around, is that carefully and responsibly entering into a relationship makes surviving an ending a lot easier. I didn’t throw myself into him in the same way I have with others. Intimacy doesn’t equal verbal diarrhea of childhood traumas and previous hurts. Sure, there is a time and place for sharing our experience. Just because you’re with someone doesn’t mean you need to cut your heart open for them. At least not at first. Which is too bad for him; he didn’t even get to hear some of my really good family stories; like the time my uncle faked his death. Or when that uncle died (the second time – HA!), there was a large stink made about viewing the body. Oh yeah, that’s a goodie…and not even half of it.
During the first act of This American Life I cringed inside and braced for tears when they played a clip of The Magnetic Fields song “I Don’t Want to Get Over You.” Oh how I love that song and OH was I ever relieved not to break down in tears at the sound of Stephin Merritt’s holy-fucking-shit deep voice; the sadness that would have been!
<— (click this link to hear a clip)
Music can play such a dangerous role during the time following a breakup. It can be such trivial shit, too. For example, there was a time when I couldn’t hear that goddamned Cobra Starship song “Snakes on a Plane (Bring It).” I’m not even talking about the tears you would expect one to respond with (painful tears related to the horrific quality of the music and movie), it was the post breakup tears that come when feel like you might die without the love and affection of someone who is no longer in your life.
Then you wake up one day and hear that song and it makes you laugh. Or you accidentally run into that person in the grocery store and you realize how fucking foolish you were to have pined over them to begin with. So, here’s to meeting the guy who will not only appreciate me, but will know what to fucking do with my sassy ass once he has me! I know he’s out there, we just have to find each other.
Categories:Assholes, dumb, emotional impotency is not hawt, hell is for single people, things I'd rather do than homework
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Too tired for a proper post. Have a list.
1. It might be time to give dating a try when Saturday night consists of quality time with your cat.
2. I refuse to become a full blown cat woman…even though my cat is more of a cat-dog.
3. Seriously, my cat growls when the doorbell rings. And he plays fetch. He. Is. A. Dog.
4. I consider my dating profile being rejected from a certain dating website a badge of honor.
5. Men with shirtless profile pics should be fined. Especially men who post photos of their armpits.
6. Winking is for bitches. It’s a sad world when someone is afraid to say hello from behind the safety of their computer monitor.
Categories:hell is for single people, my milkshake brings all the hobos to the yard
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The following search phrases were used to reach my pants. Search phrases make my day!
fucking a mormon girl
*insert vague reference to celibacy here*
penis sightings
I wish!
if I had a penis
Well then I wouldn’t be me, would I?
people who eat scabs
Yuck.
jigsaw puzzle boobs
I do love jigsaw puzzles.
what a roofies looks like
Hell. That’s what roofies look like.
what to say when it gets awkward
Say nothing. RUN!
Categories:Found, crap, hell is for single people
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