“You got a WHAT? How long ya had that problem?”

Update on Dude I’d Been Dating: He texted me Sunday to give me back his phone number, and has texted here and there since with everyday minutia, stuff so mundane I feel like he’s just worried I’ll be mad if he doesn’t say SOMETHING.

He re-added me on Facebook (he’s on my “family” filter now, though, so all he sees are sunset photos and dog videos), but not on Instagram, and we were never connected on Twitter.

So I guess we’re friends, with nudity TBD, but I think I’m OK with friends, at least for now. I’m glad we’re talking because that means he didn’t just fuck me and bail. But now I know he can and will just shut down on me, and maybe he’s only talking to me because sex is possible, so I need to get those thoughts in order.

We don’t have plans to see each other, and I’m damn sure not bringing it up, so it won’t be a real issue until he does. (He’s away on a family trip right now.)

In the meantime, I have TWO OkCupid Potentials to write back, so “I’m not waitin’, because I’m no waiter, so when I blow up, don’t try to kick it to me later.”

(^ I…I am so sorry, you guys…)

Exclamation pointless

I’m tempted to write back to this first OkCupid message, only to demand an explanation for that last exclamation point.

I have questions.

Is that, like, your punctuation money shot? You finish writing a standard message like a normal 45-year-old man but then you’re like, “Wait, you know what? …BAM, a RED one — unexpected, right?! Hash tag NAILED IT.”

Don’t you know the minimum is 15 pieces of flair, sir?

Ahoy, Captain Tightpants…

I had lunch with a male friend today and he asked if it’s ALL weirdos on online dating.

Hm. Not…REALLY

But I did just laugh out loud in a GOOD way at a first message from a seemingly normal, attractive man, and for a split second I forgot how a human woman is supposed to behave in this situation. 

I’m probably 95% in this whole thing for the stories. But sure, dude, let’s talk. You named your dog Malcolm Reynolds — at the very least I need to be your friend immediately.

This is not biology; it’s a sinister ploy. 

It’s one of those menstruation days on which I’m so irrationally exhausted that I’ve become suspicious of the entire process, as if my body is somehow shedding things it shouldn’t, like…”No, no, we NEED that, what are you doing?!”

Before I left the house today I just threw a bunch of pills in my face and chased them with a bucket of coffee. Screw it, it’s bound to fix something.

This could be the beginning of a beautiful fuck-friendship.

This amuses me more than it should…

Dude wrote me back within 24 hours this time, accepting my offer of “naked or otherwise” friendship, because duh. (“We’ll have to have a discussion next time we hang out.” Mm hmm, ‘kay…)

But because I’d deleted him from Facebook, my phone displayed his message once, then sent it to some “other messages” Facebook purgatory that, as far as I know, I can only access on a computer, and…fuck it, I’ve had a long week, and starting up a laptop AND a browser feels like a lot of effort for a dude tryna tell me I’m clingy.

Talk Monday, shitheel.

^^^ This should all end well, right…?