Oh Hello!

three brown wooden letters wall decor

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Hello? Is it me you’re looking for? I hope so because I’ve been gone for quite a long time. Last time I was on here I was just as socially awkward but younger, single, and much more unsure of myself. I was trying to find out who I was amidst the twenties New York dating scene, which pretty much dwindled down to: lonely, frustrated, confused, and mildly depressed. Well…A LOT has changed. I’m no longer lonely or confused and I’m only slightly frustrated and depressed. Oh and I’m gay and married. So… how did I get here from swiping hard lefts on weird men? Let me share.

Well before there was the “spectrum of sexuality” we feel so comfortable in now, I had definitely been attracted to women but it wasn’t as accepted as it is today. I had just pushed those feelings aside because I was afraid of being gay because it meant you were different and I desperately tried to fit in even though I just never really did. I didn’t need something additional to put me on the outside looking in. So the closet became my safe space. I was afraid I would have no friends in high school, I was afraid the friends in college that I did have would stop being friends with me, and then by the time I was in my twenties I felt I missed my “college experience” to mess around with girls and now had to find myself a serious boyfriend who was husband material. I had to stay on track so to speak.

This isn’t to say the relationships I had were fake. I had genuine feelings for the men I have dated. The hardest part about meeting a woman I truly loved and coming out was wrapping my head around the fact that I could love a woman and could have loved a man too. I had a hard time validating that my feelings in the past were real. But they were. My first boyfriend was amazing. Was he kind of like a woman? Yes. He had long hair, he gardened, he was sensitive, he played folk guitar, and was a soft passionate lover. But he also had a penis. He looked like a more feminine version of Judd Nelson in The Breakfast Club. I learned a lot from that relationship and I can’t just disregard it because I married a woman. He helped me understand that I am lovable and deserve to be treated with respect. Before him I was just hooking up with guys who would use me and he showed me that I didn’t need to just give people my body in order for them to pay attention to me and that attention didn’t mean love. But the best thing he did for me was let me go. When I graduated college he was still attending. I wanted to stay in the relationship because…naive me…I thought I was going to marry him (he was my first boyfriend!). I remember him telling me that I couldn’t stay in Delaware especially for him. I had to move to New York and meet other people and live my life. I am so thankful to this day that he did that…even if he was just trying to get rid of me. Love can be so blinding and I couldn’t see that I would have been miserable in Delaware and we probably wouldn’t have ended up together because we didn’t know each other that well and he doesn’t have a vagina.

So I serial dated my twenties away. Babbling with Bev was a testimony to my experiences. They were pretty much horrific. You can go back and read but overall it was not pleasant. The people I met were not quality people but I did come out with some pretty good stories. I also had no idea who I was or who I wanted to be. I was following a path someone else laid out for me and that’s why I was constantly disappointed and so angry and frustrated. I was dating guys in search of finding a husband because that’s just what you did. I was working at a 9 to 5 job in an office because that’s what you did. I was so unhappy with these choices and never thought to think for myself. Eventually I got so depressed I just stopped doing everything…except visiting Burger King. In my late twenties I went into a deep depression, smoked a lot of pot, and ate a lot of fast food, which makes for a very lonely and sad life. I could barely work let alone meet anyone and as my brother would say, “I looked dead in the eyes”. I was on antidepressants, which weren’t helping, and felt so stuck. I needed change, a kick in the ass, I didn’t know what but something! I’m not sure what it was but celebrating 30 was a turning point and something clicked and my perception shifted. I decided to try a new integrative doctor who combines holistic and western medicine which changed my life. I got diagnosed with leaky gut syndrome (sounds just as awesome as it is), IBS, PCOS, an inability to absorb nutrients from food (super), multiple food allergies/sensitivities including gluten and dairy, all which exacerbate depression and anxiety. So I guess you could say I had a lot going on. Working with the doctor to figure out a nutrition plan, supplements, and exercise plan helped me to feel better and be able to function but I still felt like something was missing.

I started to get back out there and get my life back. Figuring out what I wanted to do for work was priority number one. I tried comedy, writing, working at a temple, a whole bunch of random things but everything led me back to social work. I felt more myself than I had in a while when I got into private practice. This was a great step but I wanted to share my life with someone. So the swiping commenced…again. This time was different though. When I was setting up my profile and preferences I wasn’t on autopilot. For some reason I paused when it came to, “Looking for”. You had three choices: men, women, or men and women (which now I know would not be PC). So I chose both. Why not widen the pool and see what’s out there. What happened next was a huge regression. I began to treat myself as I had before my first boyfriend. I thought all people wanted from me was sex. I was so new in the gay world. I had no idea how to approach women besides in a sexual way. I went on a date with one girl and we hooked up even though we had nothing in common and I swore off women forever. I remember being at my friend’s birthday party and telling my friends the news. I was proud of my experience and excited to tell them which was progress for me. But I was also still uncomfortable with it and spoke about it in a bragging way almost like it was a conquest… like talking about it the way an ahole guy would. Like, “Yo I hooked up with a hot girl last night”. Not cool. I remember complaining though that it wasn’t good and I felt uncomfortable and that it wasn’t for me. One of my friends, the genius that she is, said, “Well why don’t you give someone else a try? Maybe she wasn’t for you?”. The thought hadn’t occurred to me. I thought I had given it a shot so now I could go back to being straight and just file it as one of my crazy sex stories. It took me a month, but after a few more awful dates with guys and feeling like I was just not connecting I started searching again for women.

It was a Sunday morning when I mustered up the courage to contact a cute girl I had matched with on Tinder. It took all my brain power but I managed to come up with the witty message of, “Hey Lauren!” Worked like a charm. Within minutes she asked if I wanted to switch from the app to texting on our phones. From that day on we have texted every single day and four years later we are married. Definitely not without our ups ands downs but for better or worse I found my person. We aren’t perfect. We fight, we are moody, we annoy each other, we see each other at our worst, but we still want to be around and there for each other and love each other more every day. Everything I wanted in a partner was always in front of me but I wasn’t looking for it. I’m so happy I got out of my own way and stopped caring more about what other people thought and cared more about what makes me happy. Even though going through depression and dark times suck, it showed me how resilient I am and led me to the place I am now. It’s not perfect but it’s good and has room to get even better. I’m excited to see where life takes me and excited to be on this journey with my partner in crime.

I guess what I got out of all those bad dates and awkward moments is that it can all lead to a good place. Don’t give up and when you feel stuck then try something new. Until the next babble.

how i met my first date

Now I can't forget my first date!

Now I can’t forget my first date!

With wedding season in full swing and being the token single girl at every event, it’s hard not to think about dating.  Hearing all the stories about how each couple met, I started thinking about the story of how I will meet my future husband.  Nothing came to mind except the insane story of how I met my first date.

This story is legen-wait for it-dary! And it’s a good representation of my dating experiences thus far.  I may have a cute story when I get married of how I met my husband but my kids will probably know this story just as well.

I started dating on the older side having been too shy and awkward in high school to flirt with a guy let alone go on a date.  Being the “cool girl friend” was more my thing.  “She’s like a dude” was something I actually took as a compliment and was the only straw I could grab at.  So when I finally had my first date I was really nervous.

First, let’s start with how I came to meet this Prince Charming.  I was at dinner with a friend when I started to feel a little under the weather.  We were finishing up when she got a call from her cousin who was at a bar right near her apartment. So we finished dinner and headed to the bar.  I started to sweat and heard my stomach making weird noises as we got out of the cab.  I decided to go up to her apartment while she met up with her cousin, Joe, and I’d catch up with them when I felt a little better.  

I was so sick in the bathroom when I heard the door open.  My friend had come back with Joe and a friend. Perfect.  Her bathroom was directly next to her living room and you could hear everything.  I was trying to get myself together but was still feeling horrible.  Fifteen minutes passed then 25 minutes.  I felt like I had to wait it out until they left.  It was embarrassing at that point to just walk out of the bathroom after a half hour and be like, “Oh, there you guys are. I’ve been looking everywhere!”.  It’s not like it was my apartment either where I could pretend I was in my room. All of a sudden my friend tried to open the bathroom door and I slammed it shut.  She said, “Sorry Bev, I forgot you were here”.  Then you hear men’s voices saying, “Who’s Bev?” Those bastards blew up my spot.  I washed up, threw some water on my face, put the fan on.  Nothing helped.  I walked out so awkwardly trying my best to ignore how terrible I felt and forced a smile. Thankfully the guys were drunk and didn’t notice or care at the moment.    

I was cornered on the small couch by her cousin’s friend who was talking to me an inch from my face.  As he rambled on about something (I could not follow his story), I kept imagining how I must have looked- sweaty with a really uncomfortable look on my face.  The guy was decent looking and nice enough but seemed like he had a screw or two loose.  He reminded me of Cliff O’Malley (Lochlyn Munro) from “Dead Man On Campus”.  I thought he was going to chant, “My name is Cliff.  Brother of Joe.  Got me some crack.  Want me some hoes”.  He didn’t but he did open a beer and then flick the cap directly into my friend’s eye.  She was bleeding from it and he just laughed at first.  Then he felt really bad and tried to help by getting her a cold compress for her eye. Instead he slammed the tray of ice cubes into her face and got ice all over the floor.  On top of that my situation was not improving so I figured this was a good time to sneak out.  I was trying to make my way out as discretely as possible but he popped out of nowhere as I got toward the door.  He would not let me say goodbye and despite my pleading, insisted on escorting me to a cab.

Next thing I knew he was standing next to me in the elevator. I was desperately trying to act casual but I was so scared I was going to fart or vomit on him.  The intense awkward silence didn’t help. As we approached the lobby he asked for my number. I felt put on the spot so I gave it to him. It was raining out so he decided to back out of the grand gesture and headed back upstairs. He opted for the “shout down the hall” goodbye because he couldn’t wait the extra minute for the elevator to come back down. I was too sick and delirious to care about how weird the past two hours had been and found myself a cab. I did not think in a million years he would contact me after that.

I was half right.  He didn’t contact me afterwards until about 3 weeks later.  He texted me to see if I wanted to get dinner that weekend.  I was really weary about going on a date with this guy.  I wasn’t sure if my instincts were right in that he was a chromosome short or I was just nervous to go on a date.  His behavior was so inconsistent and I was so out of it the night I had met him that I wasn’t sure if my perception of him had been off.  So I agreed to meet him for coffee and felt that was a safe first date.

The date.  I arrived a few minutes late and when I finally got to the correct Starbucks, after multiple attempts, I found out that I was a third wheel on my own date.  At the table was my date and a familiar face, my friend’s cousin, Joe.  My date smiled and waved but didn’t get up to say hi.  Joe and I had the most awkward hello. We both went to give a kiss on the cheek and had the embarrassing back and forth before almost kissing on the lips. I sat down and there was silence.  I was blushing from embarrassment and couldn’t really pay attention to the conversation or lack thereof. I can talk to a wall but this was painful.  Joe was trying his best to get my date involved in the conversation but you could see how uncomfortable he was being there.  Who takes a friend on a date? I decided to go get coffee.  All my date said was, “Cool.” He didn’t want anything and didn’t offer to get me something, go with me, or God forbid pay.  So I got up and paid for my coffee.  I got back to the table and sat down. The guys were talking but that faded quickly into another batch of silence.  My date grumbled something about a bar.  I had just gotten my coffee and wanted to finish it. Joe tried to escape but my date protested and screamed, “No!” and grabbed at his jacket. He really knows how to make a girl feel special. So Joe sat back down and we started talking again. About three seconds later my date interrupts us by pounding on the table and says, “We need to get to a bar now.”  He said it around 10 times in a row until we agreed to find one.  

We get to the bar and he immediately got himself a drink.  Again, he didn’t offer to get me anything.  I ordered a soda and he got annoyed that I wasn’t drinking.  I didn’t want to pay or commit to the time it would take to have a drink so I opted for something quick and easy.  It was a different location but same situation.  Joe and I were attempting small talk again while my date downed drinks.  He slammed the glass on the bar and goes, “What is the best thing about twenty eight year old girls?” I said, “What?”  He said, “There are twenty of them.”  The music had faded out towards the end of the joke so it was really quiet in the bar.  People were staring and giving us dirty looks.  He didn’t laugh or make eye contact, he just went back to being silent.  Joe looked so embarrassed and was awkwardly laughing.  I took the pedophile joke as my cue to leave. I said, “It was really nice to meet you but I have to get going.”  He just replied with bye.  Joe had to be like, “You’re not going to walk her to the door?”  He said, “No I’m good”.  Then he begrudgingly got up and walked towards the door.  I turned to say bye and he was in my face trying to kiss me.  Seriously??  My fight or flight reaction kicked in and I tried to flee but tripped over the rug by the door, fell and cut myself.  He headed straight back to the bar and left me annoyed, injured, and with a deep skepticism of dating.  I may have bled out of my knee, but I popped my dating cherry and finally was no longer a virgin to the dating scene.

My first date seems pretty on par with how my dating life panned out.  My story certainly set the bar for horrible dates.  Hopefully that was the worst, although I have had some pretty close seconds.  Who knows, maybe at one of these weddings I’ll meet the man of dreams and have a cute story to tell my children.  But for now I’ll just stick with how I met my first/worst date.

Like sex, dating gets better with time even though there are some bad experiences along the way. It’s what you make of the bad dates that determines how well the next one will go. That’s why I choose to find the humor in the situation rather than focus on how traumatic it was or could have been.

Continuing to make lemons into limoncello.

-Bev

F*CK, MARRY, CLIFF…PICKING THE LESSER OF THREE EVILS

FMC

It’s slim pickings nowadays in the online dating world.  I think the picture above says it all.  I have not been going on many dates lately because I have been contacted by creepy, creepier, and creepiest.  They just progressively get worse.  It’s extremely discouraging and further supports my previous sentiments about online dating but for some reason I am still on the website. I can’t complain, I have gotten some great stories out of it and pictures to boot.

As I looked through the visitors who contacted me, the game Fuck, Marry, Cliff came to mind.  Your friend would name either 3 really awesome people or 3 really awful people and you’d have to pick who you would fuck, who you would marry, and who you would throw off a cliff.  I know it’s a sick game but I didn’t make it up and most people have played it at some point in their life.  So the picture above reminded me of that game and my immediate reaction was to throw myself off the cliff…in every scenario.  I’m sure some of them are great people but that doesn’t mean I have any interest.  Especially when the first impression is an embarrassing screen name, questionable picture, and/or a boring or uncomfortable message.

Let’s examine the average visitor who contacts me from the random sample above.  Okay, Papi Da S. is the least harmless but anyone who refers to themselves in third person as Papi will probably not be my soulmate.  So let’s start with TD.  Was this glamour shot taken before the Key Club Intergenerational Prom or is this just business cas?  Between the tux with the coattails and using the word fancy in his greeting (especially when it is asking if I would be interested in doing something) that’s already two strikes at first glance. Let’s move onto the next Don Juan, Graffin65.   For some reason I automatically assume he’s had a skin graft from looking at his screen name and picture.  Maybe a name change would be advisable.  Nevertheless, he looks like a solid candidate…for a free meth clinic.  Besides the fact that he was probably tweaking in Tompkins Square Park when I was born, he’s almost 20 years older than me.  That would be fine except for the fact that my profile explicitly says I’m looking for someone 28-36.  He was only about a decade off…give or take.  I hope he is on drugs if simple mathematics is a struggle at 48 years old.  I don’t know if we’ve saved the best for last but EagleCross is certainly special.  What really sealed the deal for me was his 1987 Miami Vice getup and the stimulating conversation, “Hi”.  I hope he’s not depending on his wit and good fashion sense to win people over.

Since I’m not someone who avidly looks for dates, I usually only go on the site when someone messages me.  Unfortunately, the characters above are the usual suspects contacting me so last time I took a glance at the visitors section.  I came across a really disturbing profile that put everything into perspective.  Warning: This may not be appropriate for people with sight.

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Yes, that is a tattoo of Jesus and Lucifer on his chest.  Yes, he drinks water on the reg and was a cheerleader in high school.  He’s one bad ass cheerleader.  His pictures may be disturbing but his sob story about his Miniature Dachshund, which seems like an appropriate breed for him, brought some depth and humanity to his character.  His entire profile was one big cliche but I highlighted the most important parts.  He wasn’t even the weirdest guy just the most notable that looked at my profile in the past day.  This made the list of guys who contacted me look better and better each second.  I might have to reevaluate that Fuck, Marry, Cliff game…or just wait until someone who seems like a viable option contacts me.

The one thing I do appreciate about the Goth Cheerleader is that he is realistic.  I think he could tell that we probably weren’t a good fit just by looking at pictures and my profile.  I may have a tattoo on my chest of a devil’s pitchfork busting through a Star of David and only wear leather chaps on Saturdays, but that’s private.  He could probably tell his hair band facade was too hard core for me.  Seriously though, these sites are supposed to be convenient AND help you to avoid meeting someone who has nothing in common with you.  That’s what the short profile is for.  No, my profile does not capture all of me but it is a good starting point to see if we have similar interests and are attracted to each other.  I give a good enough description of who I am and clearly state what I’m looking for.  If you’re too lazy to read or just don’t care then you better have something amazing to grab my attention.  “You’re pretty” and “Hi” don’t quite cut it.  You need to be smart, witty, or so handsome that I couldn’t refuse a date.  All three separately are pretty rare so hoping for a triple threat is pretty unrealistic.

That’s all I’m asking for.  Some realistic expectations.  I don’t think I’m Bar Refaeli but I’m also not contacting someone that looks like David Beckham.  There’s being bold and having courage to contact someone, which I fully support.   And then there’s being completely out of your league.  This is not determined just on looks but intelligence, morals, and interests.  Opposites do attract but there’s at least something that holds a common bond.  So to improve your chances and your self esteem, a good rule is to list three things about the person you like or interests you (besides thinking they’re hot and wanting to bang them) before you make contact or respond.

So if you ever find yourself picking the lesser of two, three, or four evils, do nothing.  Don’t settle!  Someone good for you is out there and if not online then somewhere.  Adjust your expectations of yourself and others and the dating process gets better.  I’ve recently done this for myself and I am actually talking to a few guys with potential.  Now at least I’m having conversations and going on dates with people that I actually want to meet.  If it goes horribly wrong then at least my readers have something to laugh about.

To everyone celebrating Passover, Easter, and Holi- Cheers!  To staying away from the cliff and finding someone you can fuck and marry!  Happy Holidays!

-Bev

Bad Dates Come and Go…But Messages Are Forever!


  Bo the Black Swede

Yes, this message is real.  And no, I did not answer.

Along with online dating comes online communicating.  When you are in a bar, men are less likely to come up and try some cheesy pick up line or tell you exactly what’s on their mind.  But online, all caution is thrown to the wind.

The above message is only one of the many disturbing emails I have gotten.  Where do I start?  Does any guy seriously think that a girl is going to swoon over a proposal to be a fuck buddy, “I mean no disrespect”.  That’s ironic because your assumption that I would be interested in that is pretty disrespectful.  Luckily I don’t care and have a good sense of humor.  But be warned men…there is that “REPORT” button and there are people not afraid to use it.

I actually found this to be one of the funniest emails I have ever gotten.  As mentioned yesterday, this is the Black Swedish Sex Addict.  The only reason I mention race is because until recently a black guy in Sweden was about as common as Polio (post 1962).  When I think Scandinavian I picture a giant white guy with blond hair and blue eyes listening to bad techno (is there even good techno?).  So that caught me off guard initially.  But as I read on it only got better!

Boy does this guy have a way with words.  Who wouldn’t want to kick it and have crazy times in and out of bed with a friend with benefit?  Is there only one?  Obviously not because I had already laughed and hadn’t even gotten to his description.  Here’s where he put the hook in, “I’m fun, hung, and love to laugh”.  Now I feel better.  Because I wasn’t sure if I was going to go ahead and claim my benefit if he wasn’t hung.  But then he throws me a curveball, “he doesn’t like to beat under the bush”.  Was that a sexual innuendo?  I don’t know if he was trying to be witty or is just kind of stupid. I’m going to err on the side of caution and go with dumb but let’s also add weird to the list!  How did he manage to go from talking about sex and his penis to Scandinavian pastries???  Again, sexual innuendo?  I guess he was coming with guns fully loaded.  He had one chance and gave it all he got.

As disturbing and funny as this email is, you can tell this guy is not a dick.  He at least has the courtesy to be upfront with what he wants.  He’s also European so I’m attributing some of the weirdness to his culture.  I’ve gotten emails that are just like, “You’re hot.  Let’s get a hotel room now!” or “Honestly, do you like small penises?”.  He at least had a story, some personality, and actually seemed genuine.  My hat is off to you Black Swedish Sex Addict.  You managed to do something creepy in the most honest and nicest way possible.  I still don’t want to hook up with you but I have a little more respect for you.

Please tell me that other people get just as ridiculous emails?  I would love to hear about them!

Silver lining: At least he didn’t ask If I wanted some Negerbollar which translates to Negro balls.  (It’s a Swedish pastry…and actually goes by the more derogatory name in Sweden.  Here’s a link so you can be reassured I’m not a racist: http://superblog2.blogspot.com/2005/01/nazi-chocolate-balls.html )

All this kinky pastry talk has gotten me hungry.  Going to find myself some chocolate balls.  Maybe I should have contacted him after all.

Until tomorrow.

-The Big Baller Bev