My First (and Worst!) OKCupid Date

Worst First Date

When you finally decide to take the plunge and leap into the online dating pool, you don’t expect your first experience there to be your worst … but that’s just what happened to me.  Read all about it in my Singles Warehouse post!

Now, ladies and gents, just remember: if your date “has something to show you” in his or her car, run like hell … or at least be ready to.

Lust Leads to Love?

Sex on the first date – it seems like we want to have it much more often than we actually let ourselves have it.  New science says we should give in to those urges, though, and hey – who am I argue?!  Check out my post at Singles Warehouse for the lowdown.

I’ve long been an advocate of sex when you want to have it, be that first, fourth, or fourteenth date … and it’s always nice to discover you’ve been right all along.

Fuck and Break Up


Reflecting on my most recent breakup (with the Architect), I found myself wishing I’d taken him to bed one last time.  While thinking about it, I realized something that surprised me: sex had been part of at least 75% of my breakups in the last five years!  So, naturally, I wrote a post about it, over at Singles Warehouse.

Go on, say goodbye nicely now … with your tongue, teeth, fingers, cock, and cunt.  You’ll thank me later.

The Teacher, Red Delicious, and Bi-Girl Syndrome

reddelheartThere’ve been all KINDS of exciting developments between now and the eight first dates I managed to complete in ten days’ time recently.  And this is the one I’m happiest about:  The Teacher slept with someone other than me!

He arrived at my apartment on Monday afternoon with a great big grin on his face.  This is one of the most endearing things about the Teacher, the look on his face when he sees me.  “You look nice,” he said, and we went straight to bed.  “So,” he said, “you want to hear about my date?” Of course I did.  His description of the afternoon they spent together was quite detailed, and I was getting bored.  “Get to the sex part!” I teased him, knowing that sex on the first date was highly unlikely for the Teacher.  And he blushed a lovely scarlet.  “That was later,” he said.  “Baby!” I yelled, “WOO HOO!”  I covered him in kisses.  “You know,” he said to me, “condoms aren’t THAT bad.”

I was amused.  The Teacher and I haven’t used condoms, see, since our first night together.  I let him make that decision with the full knowledge that I had other partners.  Since he doesn’t sleep with anyone other than me, and birth control is already double-covered, he felt it was fine to go without … so he’s had sex while wearing one exactly twice.  “Also,” he said to me, smiling at my joy on his behalf, “I got to be the experienced one.”  That made me throw back my head and laugh.  “I love you,” I told him, and for the first time, he didn’t echo me immediately.  I smiled inwardly.  I have little doubt about the Teacher’s feelings for me, and I respect his choice to save that for his new girl.  They are great for each other, from what I can tell, and I hope it works out.

I feel great about this, even though it will probably lead to the Teacher dating his new girl exclusively and the end of our (sexual and romantic, at least) relationship.  I’ve been on the receiving end of this sort of breakup before.  Single fellas meet me and think I’m wonderful, cannot believe I am also single, and are sure that my having other partners won’t bother them.  Most are pretty excited about the freedom to pursue other girls while also enjoying a relationship.  Ultimately, though, most of these single guys meet someone who wants the same thing they want – an impenetrable twosome.  It’s not that I don’t see the appeal.  It’s just that I’m quite picky about who I twosome with.  So the fellas move on with their new exclusive girls, and we always part on good terms.  Occasionally I have mixed feelings about it, but not this time.  I can see the Teacher marrying this gal, and I hope I dance at their wedding.  Aww.

Enough about his dating life, though.  This blog is ALL about me.  And I’m two things: uncertain and excited.  I’m positive you know what I’m talking about: that kind of interest in someone new that’s uncomfortable and thrilling and uncomfortably thrilling.  Red Delicious and I met for dinner last week, and almost immediately fell into the kind of conversation two people have when they have eighteen things to say.  She was warm, funny, honest, and instantly accessible in the way that people only can be who are comfortable with themselves one hundred percent.  Authenticity is the one thing I’m non-negotiable on.  Red Delicious has it in spades.  She also has gorgeous long auburn hair, and piercing green eyes that glow when she’s delighted.  We have tons to talk about, and we’ve laughed most of the time we’re together, on our two dates.  I love being so engaged in a conversation, and I love talking to someone smarter than me.

Thursday, we gave a hug and went happily our separate ways to our cars after goodbye, having already planned for Tuesday.  And last night, well, I think I muffed the goodbye there.  We’d driven in her car to a coffee shop, and she was dropping me back at mine. Without thinking, I jumped out and leaned down to say what a good time it had been.  Even before I had that sentence finished, I was frustrated that I hadn’t stayed in the passenger seat for a minute longer and taken a look in Red’s eyes – because I’d have loved to end the evening with a kiss or two.  We also failed to make a future date, even though I think we both would like to – again, probably my fault for leaping out of the car.

Since I’ve done dozens of them, you’d think I’d have this first/second/third-date-type stuff down.  I’d like to say that this one can be chalked up to a simple execution error, but I think it’s more of a trend.  After all, when the Biomed Engineer (we dated for six months this winter) dropped me off at my car on our second date, we accomplished the front-seat first kiss, awkwardly twisted torsos and all.  I’m a bit of a first kiss expert, even, and I can usually read my date’s face well enough to know if they’re thinking along the same lines I am.  If they are, I have no trouble making the first move.  Unless, of course, my date is a woman.  Everything else is the same – I want a kiss, I can tell that she does … and I fail to make it happen.

I’m a little bit baffled by this shyness.  “Shyness”, even, since I am the farthest thing from shy.  I’m almost never dumbfounded this way with a man.  So … why?  I have no doubts about my bisexuality.  In high school, I had one boyfriend and one girlfriend.  Ever since, I’ve had bunches of each.  The only thing I can come up with – and it’s a very uncomfortable thing – is that with men, I let traditional gender roles take the pressure off.  By ascribing responsibility for the first kiss to my date if he’s a man, I make it easier for myself to make the first move.  Or perhaps it’s that gender stereotypes allow me to be less concerned about a lack of desire on my date’s part if he’s a man?  Probably both.  And this stuff happens in my mind instantly, subconsciously, and it causes about thirty seconds of hesitation … which kills the moment.  Every time.  The thing is, the girls aren’t kissing me, either.

In that long moment, the women I’m with are paralyzed too with hesitation.  And these women are all bisexual, like me.  I have almost never dated a woman who sees women exclusively.  Many lesbians shun other women who also date men.  And enjoying the company of men and sex with men is part of me, no matter who I’m currently dating.  for these reasons, I am almost always dating other bisexual women.  I love it – they almost always understand me perfectly, and they are naturally the best people-watching companions ever.  So all my dates with women are the combination of two bisexual girls.  And when we want to kiss each other, intend to, even, something makes us halt and hesitate.  I’m calling it Bi-Girl Syndrome, and I’ve had it as long as I can remember, thinking back.  I can’t remember a female partner who hasn’t also had it, and it reminds me of one extreme example that makes me laugh.

My friend the Writer and I had long admired one another, and the timing was never right.  Finally all the pieces fell into place, and we went on a wonderful date and greatly enjoyed each other.  Afterward, we sat on my couch, our face inches apart for hours – and never managed even so much as a goodnight kiss.  When we talked again next, we said what a mistake that had been, that we’d been wanting to sleep together for ages, and we shouldn’t have let anything stop us.  And we made another date, that was equally wonderful … and sat on the couch again, waiting.  I couldn’t take it, all of a sudden, and stood up and pulled my dress over my head.  I reached for the Writer’s hand, and she smiled at me as I led her to my bedroom, where she undressed in about five seconds flat, with zero hesitation.  And the Writer and I had a GREAT night together.

Bi-Girl Syndrome only affects that first move – but, oh, its effects are strong.  Last weekend, when Eve and I went on our first date, we each hesitated in the span of almost an entire minute, trying to clear the BGS hurdle, and we didn’t, in the end.  Tonight is my second date with Eve, and I’m promising myself to overcome my hesitation.  READERS:  hold me to it.  ; )

First Date Weekend

optionsWithout my 9-5 and without the Architect in my life, I have a fair bit of time on my hands. It only took me a couple minutes of thinking to decide it was time to meet some new folks. Although I consistently get a lot of interest from the fellas on OKCupid, I was thinking more about ladies this time. After a little bit of back and forth messaging over the last couple weeks with several people, I had first dates set up with nine different people … and four of them were this weekend.

On Friday night, the Programmer and I went to a group gathering at a local pizzeria. I had been chatting with the Stamp Licker (which reminds me: although some of these professional labels are correct, not all of them are, by a longshot, and I (naturally) reserve the right to call each person anything I damn well want) online for a week or two, even though she first messaged me in May. I knew the Stamp Licker would be at this gathering, but she didn’t know I would. The look on her face when she recognized me was delightful. “Aren’t you…?” she said. “Yep,” I told her, and took the seat next to her to chat for a half hour or so. That conversation went pretty well … but it didn’t matter, since she and boyfriend are off to another state far far away in a couple weeks. Right then. I took the Programmer home afterward, and the combination of his tongue and fingers and a new toy of mine almost killed me with orgasm after orgasm of insane intensity. My muscles are STILL a little sore from all of that (says SDAW, with a wicked grin on her face).

Saturday, Harry Potter (yep, I can call them whatever I want, I said) and I were to meet at 5pm over at my favorite local bar. This particular place is often suggested to me by others, which is amusing, since it’s often my first suggestion. In this case, he had picked it. I arrived an hour and a half early, thinking I’d get some work done on this-a-here borrowed laptop … but a few of my friends were sitting in a booth in the corner. I sat with them, figuring as it became closer to 5, I’d pick out a table of my own to sit with Harry Potter and chat. But Harry was a good 45 minutes early himself … and had also brought friends. We ditched them, respectively, he grabbed a fresh beer for each of us, and we sat down to talk. It was instantly clear that Harry was overwhelmed by me and my open, friendly personality. I just wasn’t sure if it was good overwhelmed or bad overwhelmed. The more we talked, the more I realized it had to be the latter. Dear sweet little Harry was a virgin with zero dating experience. He was terrified. I made up some excuse that I had to get going, and he was out the door before I had even finished bussing the table.

I sat back down to finally get to work. But then another group of my friends arrived, bit by bit, until there were twelve or so of us, gathered around the table, playing games and creating our own game. I was in the midst of drawing a “Sand Witch” card for their set when I got a text message from a gal I’d been chatting with on FetLife: “What are you up to tonight?” We’d been saying we should meet up for quite a while, it was fitting together our schedules that had stopped us. I suggested we get together around 9pm. “Great,” she said, “how about ________?” I laughed and told her I was already there, come whenever. She arrived just as my friends and I were wrapping a game – perfect timing! I said my goodbyes, and sat down with Eve (as in Adam and), yet again with a fresh beer. Eve was wonderful. Beautiful with a wild blond mane and crooked smile, open, warm, soft-spoken yet strongly confident. We were having a great time, until the boys showed up – two single fellas, to whom we appeared to be two friends without a date, I’m sure.

They sat down and chatted us up about every boring topic you can think of. We endured them for a bit and moved on to find another place to sit, no doubt bruising two male egos in the process. After a long, long conversation ranging from exes to jobs to family to current partners, Eve and I admitted it was late and she had quite a bit of driving to do. Standing outside the bar, I leaned down to hug her goodbye. There was a good 7 inches’ difference in our heights; probably more like 9 with the shoes I wore – and it occurred to me, a moment after she walked away without a goodnight kiss, that said kiss was MY responsibility, simply because of the height disparity. I always seem to freeze up when it comes to making a move with a girl – which is ridiculous, considering how shy I’m not with just about any man. Sigh. I texted Eve and apologized for the slip. She texted back with a smile: “we can take care of that next time.” My heart fluttered.

This afternoon, I met up with the IT Guy for brunch at 1:30. Just to continue the trend of the weekend, a table at the restaurant was occupied by yet more friends of mine, and the IT Guy waited politely while I said hello. IT Guy’s accent charmed me, as French accents tend to do; softening all the hard edges of his English and making his speech sound like a slow song. We talked about any- and everything; I finally had to cut the conversation short and declare that I had other things to do this evening. He was clearly interested in seeing me again, and then he suggested that I come over to his place and wait for the appliance repair guy with him tomorrow morning. Hmm. Like many of my dates, he was confusing my openness about sex with my willingness to fuck anybody at any time. Ah, no thanks. I told him I was free on Saturday during the day, and we made another lunch date … and we’ll have to see how that one goes.

I wore the same trusty denim skirt to all four dates.  It’s a dark-wash pencil with buttons down the front, and it’s positively awesome on me.  And I’m exhausted from all of this meeting new people. First dates mean being on my toes in more ways than one, and I find myself longing for the comfort of an old lover this evening. There’s just something about being with someone who already knows a little bit about what to expect, I think.  Maybe I’ll see what the Communist is up to tonight…. he hasn’t seen that denim skirt yet.

Two Tablets, Ten Commandments


As I jump back into the dating pool, I’m reminded of this post I did back in April for Singles Warehouse – the ten things everybody needs to remember in online dating.

I am, of course, paying special attention to number 5 … and number 9.

Danger, Will Robinson!

I’ll be introducing you to the Architect shortly – and soon thereafter, I’ll be telling why he’s equally wonderful and worrisome.  In the meantime, check out my latest at Singles Warehouse’s blog about red flags in dating and following your intuition.

When that little voice starts to holler in your ear … listen!

Mr. and Mrs. Marketer

Last night, I went to a birthday party at the bar, and at the end of the night, I went home with a tall handsome fella with tattoos of dragons, tarot and communist symbols all up and down his arms.  Four hours later, we were lounging in his bed, complimenting each other on a fine performance.  I snuck out his back door with my panties in my pocket and a smile on my face.  This morning, though – well, this morning I was in big trouble.

I knew the party would be a little awkward.  It was the Marketer’s husband’s birthday, and I dated both of them not too long ago.

I met Mr. Marketer through OKCupid, and he was upfront about the fact that he and his wife were considering but not decided on polyamory.  We had long, funny, intellectual email exchanges that became endless short clever texts.  And when he asked me to join him at the bar to watch the Tigers in the playoffs, I jumped at the chance.  When he walked me to my car that night after a Tigers win, he surprised me by pressing me up against my driver’s door and kissing me so perfectly I was breathless.  The next night, we yanked each other’s clothes off in the doorway of a dry cleaner outside the bar.  And then:  he texted just the same; but could never meet up.  I chalked it up to cold feet.

I met Mrs. Marketer at the neighborhood watering hole the night before Halloween.  She liked me.  A lot.  She immediately got in touch on Facebook to tell me so; and she suggested that I come on down to the same bar the next night for their Halloween party and meet her husband.  They had been considering polyamory, and …  I’m sure, dear readers, that you’ve already figured this one out.  But I didn’t, until that Hween party, where lo and behold, Mr. and Mrs. Marketer were there wearing a couples’ costume.  We laughed.  Mr. had told Mrs. he met a great girl and wanted to date her.  Mrs. had said, well, good, me too.  And of course, they were each talking about me.

Continue reading

Double the Flavor, Double the Fun


While I try and get the rest of my life under control enough to post you some more good stuff (and believe me, there’s been lots of good stuff going on!), check out my post over at Singles Warehouse about being bisexual.

It really is twice as nice.

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SDAW on Twitter

  • Totally happyexcited these days about a new lover. The Artist is such a win. 2 years ago
  • The moon is exactly half, and so is my heart. 2 years ago
  • This heartbreak is like the Grand Canyon. I knew it would be big, but... 2 years ago
  • Leave it to me to waste #nationalorgasmday on a breakup. Sigh. 2 years ago
  • Only in the world of non-monogamy can you deal with a breakup via text all day long, then get prettied up for a first date that evening. 2 years ago
  • I just listened to "Last Christmas" in the car last night. Hahahahahaha.… 2 years ago
  • ... just sort of wind up feeling like personal failure, no matter how clearly it isn't. I'm a little heartbroken today. Wish it'd go away. 2 years ago
  • I'm good at breaking up. I've done lots of it. But these, the ones where it's not because you don't love each other... 2 years ago
  • RT @gcollins11: The Tigers are 'rebooting'? WTF are they, Windows Vista? 2 years ago