Wednesday, December 26, 2012

The Flingstress... Going On Hiatus



I am taking a deliberate break from dating.  I have a few reasons for the break so let me see if I can explain.

When Joseph broke up with me it was a HUGE rejection.  The person who was supposed to love me forever walked away. Seemingly without much difficulty. It's embarrassing to admit but I desperately needed male attention. A LOT of male attention. I recognize that I needed the affirmation and confirmation that men still liked me. Still wanted me.  That Joseph was wrong. That I was still desirable and worthy of love.

I no longer feel that overwhelming need. I feel more settled. Stronger. Happier.

At the same time, I don’t know exactly what I want at the moment. I never saw myself staying in DC this long. Being in Ireland made me realize that DC isn’t home. And I’m not sure it ever will be. Ultimately I either need to make it home or I need to leave.

So I decided to take a break from dating. A dating cleanse, if you will. A man-page turned man-fast. At first I thought maybe I’d do it until 2013.  Now I’m unsure when I’ll return to dating. When it feels right, I suppose.

Flingstress out. For the moment, at least.

Fifty Shades of Gray... For Reals


I won’t beat around the bush, people. I recently met a man who was unabashedly entrenched in Dominant/submissive culture.

Looking back I suppose there are signs I could’ve seen. On our first date, he asked me how much I weighed. WTF. Who does that? THEN, when I wouldn’t tell him, he picked me up and curled me. CURLED me! As if I were a dumbbell at the gym. He put me back down and said “Yep, that’s what I thought.” Admittedly it was kind of hot. I’m not a small girl by any means, so it was sort of fun being picked up like a doll. Ted is definitely a strong, strapping man.

On our second date he just laid it all out in front of me. He said he had run into the problem of connecting with women until he reveals he hopes to have a dominant/submissive element in the bedroom.  So now he just tells them upfront. He just puts it all on the table. 

So Ted is giving me a bunch of scenarios (and mind you, we haven’t done anything physical at this point besides kissing) and I’m trying to maintain an open mind. THEN we are discussing boundaries.


The beginning of a relationship (any relationship, even friendship) is precarious. If you reveal too much too soon, it will scare someone off. If you hold back too much, you won't be able to build a meaningful relationship - and it will stay in the superficial realm. There is an inclination to "lay it all out there" because "if he/she is meant for me, he/she will accept me." I call this emotional vomit. I've been guilty of it myself (telling people too soon about my disengagement/past relationships and watching their eyes glaze over).

We are all freaks and want to let our freak flag fly, but I say bring it down half-mast until you recognize the approaching ship as friend or foe.  Had we gotten to know each other and he slowly started to sprinkle some of his kinkiness in, that might've been a different story.  Instead I ran for the hills because, let’s face it, you never get to come on my face.  

Free Fitness Test


I fancy myself a fairly savvy person when it comes to the opposite sex. But sometimes they make no damn sense.

I’m headed to the gym and stop in Starbucks to grab a protein plate. I’m looking for somewhere to sit when a good-looking guy says “you can sit here, some guy is sitting there.” It just happens to be right in front of him. Ha. Nicely played, sir.

Oh. I forgot to mention what I look like. My hair is greasy and in a pony-tail. I’m wearing ugly sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt. It’s not even the cute gym outfit – you know the one – tight yoga pants with a flattering tank top. Nope. It’s laundry time, folks, and I’m scraping the bottom of the barrel today.

He chats me up as I’m scarfing down my eggs, peanut butter and cheese.  He’s older than me (I find out later he’s 39) and used to play professional basketball abroad. It’s not until he stands up that I realize he’s 6’6. He slides me his business card and says he’d love to take me out for dinner sometime. What? Really? I look like CRAP. I’m not exaggerating. I would tell you if I looked cute.

I say goodbye to tall man and head into the gym. The gym manager nods in my direction and I smile a friendly “hello.” On my way out of the gym, he stops me to make small talk. His name is Joseph. Jesus. I just can’t win. His middle name is Kouros – he’s Iranian American. I inform him I’ll be calling him Kouros. He seems to like that. I'm on my way out when he stops me.


I’m thoroughly amused. I’m amused that a. I am getting picked up by two men who are sixteen years apart (Kouros is 23) and b. I look terrible!   

To my further amusement, I’m again reminded that age really doesn’t matter. The 39 year old basketball player flaked on the day we were supposed to go out whereas the 23 year old persisted (and asked my friend to encourage me to call him). Kouros and I went out on a date and it was pleasant enough.

Kouros still lives with his mother, plays a lot of video games and smokes marijuana regularly. So not exactly long-term potential.  But I appreciated his move. The “fitness card trick” is a new one, even for me. 

Monday, December 10, 2012

If She Were President, She'd Be Babe-raham Lincoln

I like Colin’s profile immediately. He’s smart, ambitious and enjoys helping others – he volunteers! SWOON. Under the “activities that you enjoy” section he states that he likes running, swimming, biking, the occasional cross dressing, watching terrible kung fu movies and hanging out with friends. Well, alright.

We discuss our mutual love for costumes and he is the only guy so far on Match.com to compliment me on my Wayne’s World costume. (Most guys are COMPLETELY turned off by how well I can pull off Wayne Campbell.) For a cute girl, I certainly rock the crap out of being a man. One time, a chick thought I was her soul mate because she was dressed as Babe-raham Lincoln – and she tried to make out with me. Schwing!

Colin makes it to a second date and we’re having an immensely playful conversation. I tell him that I think his profile is funny and that most guys take themselves SUPER seriously. He looks at me inquisitively and so I continue about how the “occasional cross dressing” line thrown in there is hysterical.  He stops smiling.

Oh. You. Were. Serious.

Colin is buoyed by my reaction. And his dance moves are *quite* atrocious. He looks surprisingly pretty as a woman, especially given the fact he's a handsome manly man. He’s scared that I’m going to disappear. That’s when I say “I’ll see you on Saturday and I’m bringing my wigs.”

I show up to his apartment in a short blonde bob wig looking fabulous. I feel like a mobster’s wife. À la Michelle Pfeiffer in Scarface:


I have a long, black wig and a wavy, red wig with me as well. Colin and I are having a blast – laughing and giggling as we trade wigs.  I’m truly having a good time but two things hit me as I’m adjusting the black wig on him… a. this feels like being with a girlfriend and b. this is fun because I love costumes (if I could do it all over again, I’d be a costume designer for Broadway musicals).  But for him this is something sexual.  Sigh.  He’s disappointed and honestly, so am I. Why can’t there be chemistry between us? Am I not open-minded enough?

I learned a few important lessons. 1. You can NEVER judge a book by its cover… this guy was waving his freak flag underneath the clean-cut, conservative government employee exterior. 2. When someone says they cross dress on their Match.com profile, you should believe them. 3. I can’t date a man who looks better in a ball gown than I do. Period.