No, I have not yet heard from date #1 other than some small talk on msn which makes me pretty confident that I will not be seeing him again. Truthfully, now that my spring fever seems to be under control; he’s not lookin’ so hot in my eyes anymore anyway! Bitter? No. Easily bored and too picky? Yeah.

This whole internet dating thing is just so strange because you’re supposed to go on your first date to see if there is any chemistry or feelings that set your heart a flutterin’ and your loins a blazin’, as opposed to meeting someone who makes you feel that way and setting out on your first date already smitten. I miss that and it’s only been one date. *sigh*

Don’t mean to be such a downer and I certainly am not flaking on my mission; just a sad little observation I suppose. Will get my chin up and tits out and prance ahead as planned.


So date 1 of 50 went as well as coffee with a virtual stranger could! He agreed to meet me outside the café so neither of us would have to deal with the humiliation of walking blindly through a crowded room squinting in a way that makes it obvious to all that we are on an internet date. This plan backfired for me though because I walked past his car and right up to a guy on his cell phone that looked at me like I was an escaped mental patient of sorts! Only after this guy scurried away from me did he come over and give me a hug.

He was tall and had a great body; broad shoulders and a waist that was lean but still somehow wider than mine (very important). His hair, though receding ever so slightly, was spiky/messy/cool which was a plus and made up for his outfit. He was wearing a pair of black slacks (the word ‘pants’ doesn’t quite express the generic-ness I’m trying to explain!) and a tight, sporty, nylon golf shirt with the logo of the company he works for. Normally, that ensemble would have been enough to make me bail, but as he did come straight from work and had other redeeming qualities; I was able to overlook it.

Our online chemistry that was chalked full of jokes and sexual innuendos carried over into our date and we talked for the next couple of hours until the chairs were all up on the tables, the lights dim and we were the only ones left in the café. The date ended with some witty…ok, perverted banter outside in the chilly night air and we went our separate ways with big goofy grins on our faces.

The verdict? I think we could have a lot of fun together and am pleased at how the date went. The fact that I could actually envision makin’ out with him certainly helps, cuz you know; that is the true test, right? Now comes the truly nerve-wracking part; waiting for him to call and ask me for another date…

Am about an hour away from my first internet date in ages and was hoping to be a little more on edge than I am! I guess it sounds kinda’ silly, but I actually quite enjoy the butterflies and queasiness that should accompany a first date! Maybe they’ll kick in a little later? Then again, maybe it’s some deep-rooted pessimism creeping its way through my system, into my belly and suffocating the poor butterflies. That would be just like me wouldn’t it?? Fuck. What happened to me?? I used to be such a romantic. *sigh*

Let’s talk about my outfit, shall we? Since we are just meeting at a local café for the ‘safe-coffee-in case-one-of-us proves-to-be-ugly-as-sin’; I didn’t see the point in pulling out the sequins and boas—as if!! Have opted for a pair of skinny jeans, round-toe stilettos and a tight, v-neck black tunic… and cleavage—lots of cleavage. I figure I’ll throw the sweetie a bone so if he’s really uninterested he will at least have some titty to enjoy! Hahahahaha. Have also resisted the urge to wear cute bra and panties seeing as how that could be hazardous given my current bout of spring fever and all. Good thing that I am keeping this blog anonymous cuz otherwise this guy would know that I am only a pair of deep-dish panties away from losing my morals and letting any cute stranger make an even more dishonest woman of me!

Oh, by the way; it’s the guy who looks like a musician that I am meeting tonight. Am off to whore myself up and put my mask on. Wish me luck!

As someone who feels the need to be productive 20 hours a day; I am having a little bit of trouble with how time consuming this online dating thing is. You see a profile you like (I’m still all about cuz of the hotties), you send a message and then the next thing you know, you are chatting on MSN. As fun and flirty as some of these chats have been, I’m on a timeline here! I know, I know: you can’t hurry love, blah, blah, barf, but I’ looking to actually “meet” someone… well, more like fifty someones, but if I’m on MSN all day it leaves me little time to do anything or anyone else! So my new rule is: No endless emails or chatting online. You like my profile, I like yours. Let’s have coffee.

So far I have 3 coffee dates lined up for next week. This makes my friends very proud, especially since I have ventured completely out of my comfort zone and selected 3 very different men–only one of which falls into what I deny is my “type” even though it seems to be the “type” that causes me to drool a little and lose my footing when one of said “type” walks by. This “type” would be the uber macho, tall, muscular Euro-stud with a goatee and slightly longer hair. Excuse me while I get a napkin to wipe the drool from my chin…

Whew! That’s better.

Anyway, I will soon need to come up with a list of characters for you because it will be far easier than having to explain which potential suitor I am referring to every time. But to give you a quick rundown on next weeks dates:

Monday: Cute musician-looking type who I’ve had awesome chats with and long to lick his tattoos.

Wednesday: Runner guy who is slightly older and physically smaller than what I generally prefer, but something about his smile was endearing. He gives good chat too!

Thursday: Super cute guy who is a couple of years younger but looks young enough to be my personal cabana boy! Chosen based strictly on his looks and eagerness to please — decision to meet was courtesy of my raging hormones that are suffering a bad case of the spring fever. I suspect this coffee will end with my ankles up around my ears in a park somewhere–weather permitting.


This is something that I had found on Craigslist quite awhile back and saved because I thought it was just freakin’ awesome and it seems to keep popping up over there and on other blogs. I thought I’d share it with you for the laugh and because it seems to go so well with my recent confession of my spring fever fiasco that has me feeling like a dog in heat!

Enjoy! And if anyone knows who wrote this abso-fucken-lute masterpiece,please pass it on! Would love to high-five her!

Dear Men of Craigslist,

Look, I know you men have it difficult. Women are just about impossible to understand, much less please. In a post-feminist society, you never know exactly what you should be doing. Women are bloody picky, I know we are. It can be scary, too, when women freak out about what appear to be benign issues. And men who do their best to be respectful, female-positive humans, I salute you, I do.

But please, please just fuck me already. Honestly, I appreciate your thoughtfulness. I like that you want to take things slow. I can totally get behind the idea of emotional connection, but dearjesusinheaven, FUCK ME. We’ve done dinner and drinks. We’ve gone dancing. We’ve cuddled and watched a movie. I’m wearing a low cut shirt and you’ve been staring at my breasts all night. Goodgodalmighty, get to it and fuck me.

When we get hot and heavy, please take charge. Please, please fuck me. Trust me, I’m not going to just lie still – I’ll get involved. But don’t make me force your hand into my panties. That makes me feel like a rapist. We’ve been kissing for a half hour and your hand keeps grazing my ass. That’s nice, but it’s time to move forward. Get on top of me. Don’t make me get on top right out of the gate and start bobbing up and down on your cock like I’m practicing some crazy new aerobic yoga because YOU won’t go down on me. Roll on top and start dry humping like a good boy should. Don’t gently suck my nipples and then pull back when I moan with pleasure. You being coy is totally not what I want. It’s not what WE want.

OK, I know it’s scary. There are lots of women out there who make fucking really difficult. So, I have compiled some handy tips. Don’t think of this as complaining, or as schadenfreude for the Andrea Dworkins of the world. Just some simple tips, for timid men who have forgotten what it means to fuck like men:

1. Taking charge is not bad. Oh, there will be some women who feel that you are pushy. If you are making out with a woman, and she starts to push back, ask nicely if things are moving too fast. If she says yes, say something like “I’m sorry – you just look so fucking delicious. I’ll go slower.” Otherwise, skillfully move forward. If you start kissing a woman, and she responds well, and before long, you’re both on the floor with her skirt pushed up, and you on top of her, it’s not the time to roll onto your back and start awkwardly stroking the top of her head. Seriously, grow a goddamn pair. YOU’RE the man. Act like one.

2. Ohmyfuckinggod, please learn to respect the clit. It’s different for every woman, so ask what she likes. Do not, I repeat, do not just wiggle your fingers around her pussy like you’re trying to tickle her. Do not drum your fingertips against her vulva like you are impatiently waiting at the Sears Tire Center for your receipt. Do not push the clit like it is a doorbell at some house that you need to get inside of. Start by using all four fingers with firm yet gentle pressure against the outside of her pussy. Do not charge in with a single finger and start jabbing at things. And if you really don’t know what to do, ask her. Just ask. “How do you like it?”. It’s a simple question, and most women will answer straight out. If she’s being all coy, ask “Do you like pressure? Is it sensitive?” The clitoris is a varied item, indeed. Treat each one as though you have never encountered one before. Forget everything that your last partner liked.

3. Most women like to be fucked, and fucked well. Yes, there are women out there who want to “make love” every time – sweet, gentle, rocking love with lots of eye contact and loving kisses. Those women are not the majority. The majority like to be pounded. The majority like to have their hair pulled. The majority like a good, solid jackhammering. When a woman is bucking wildly against you, it’s not because she wants you to pull back and slowly swirl your cock around her vagina like you’re mixing a cake batter up there. It’s because she wants you to hold down her arms, or grab her hips, or push her legs above her head, and fuck her harder. Don’t be too afraid of what this means as far as gender equality goes – I am a raging feminist bitch, but I still want to be penetrated like you are planning on fucking my throat from the inside out.

4. A little roughness is nice. Do not pretend that you had no idea that some women like their hair pulled. Do not act shocked if she wants you to spank her (“Really? Spanking? Won’t it hurt?” – yes, it does. That’s the fucking point). We know you’ve read Stuff and Maxim, and that’s all those laddie mags talk about in their “How to Please Her” sections. Start with light, full handed smacks to the area of her ass that she sits on. Judge her response and continue on from there. You don’t have to bend her over one knee and tell her she’s a naughty girl and that Daddy’s going to punish her; save that for the fifth date. Women are less delicate than you think, so don’t worry about breaking her hip.

5. It’s OK for you to make noise. Otherwise, we feel like we are fucking a ninja. Unless you actually are a ninja, and have sneaked into our rooms with vibrating nanuchaku and zippered black pajamas, please, please make some noise. If you’re banging a woman, and she’s crying out and saying your name and moaning, and you can’t even manage a grunt, she’s going to feel like an idiot. You don’t have to make the sounds she is making, but do SOMETHING. You know how when you are watching porn, and the girl does something great to the guy and the guy kind of goes “Ah!”, half grunt, half yell? That’s HOT. Do that. Whisper our name (assuming you know it) gruffly. Groan against her neck when you’re in missionary position. You don’t have to grunt like a mountain gorilla, but if you are totally mute, she’s going to get worried.

6. Most women like dirty talk, in addition to the grunting. If you’d like to get some dirty talk going, ask her if she likes the way you fuck her. If she responds well, continue with something like, “I love fucking you. God, you look so fucking hot.” Is she still moaning in response? “Your tits are so beautiful.” Does that work? If she doesn’t respond well to the term “tits”, you might have to stop there. If she keep moaning or responding, pass Go and collect $200. Try the following:

“Oh, god. Your pussy is SO tight.”
“You’re so wet – are you wet because you like the feel of my cock ramming you?”
“I think I’m going to come inside you. I’m going to fill up your little cunt.” It doesn’t matter that you’re wearing a condom; we LOVE hearing this.

If all of those work, you can then progress to things like “sexy little bitch” and “dirty whore”. Tread carefully, but please, tread. Do not tiptoe. Do not sit down. Charge.

6. You’re not obligated to eat a woman out. In return, she’s not obligated to choke on your dick. Don’t skip one and expect the other. If you do eat a woman out, the only comment you should make about her pussy is how nice it is. The length of her labia minora, the color of her interior, her waxing job or full bush – you are not John Madden. No time for color commentary.

7. Do not bitch about condoms. Oh, we hate them. Trust us. They hurt us more than they hurt you. But we don’t want to be preggers, and you don’t want to catch anything, right? Don’t whine about condom sex. Do not explain that you can’t come with one on. LEARN to come with one on, or if not, help us figure out what to do with you once we’re satisfied and it’s time for you to let loose your load.

8. We really like it when you come. It’s called a money shot for a reason. Watching semen shoot out of you is one of the most gratifying things EVER. However, do not assume that she wants you to jack it off onto her face. She might, but don’t assume. Seeing and/or feeling you come is rewarding for us, so there’s no need to deprive us of it, but please do consult us before unleashing. “I think I’m going to come – how do you like it?” is a fair question that shouldn’t rob you of your testicles.

In recent memory, I’ve been fucked by a very aggressive, manly guy, and I’ve been… well, fucked is the wrong term here. I’ve been penetrated by a total and utter wuss. Who am I going to run back to when I’m ready for my fill? Manly McHardon, that’s who. —————————————————-

*New point of clarification – some people have brought up some really great issues in response to this post, so let me say this: I don’t mean to imply that all women like to be treated like whores. I do mean to say that most women I know have told me that they like sex rougher than most men give it to them. Rough does NOT equal chains and bondage. And this applies to the bedroom only, and does not mean that she wants you to choose her dinner for her, or treat her like less of a person. **Some women have said that they don’t like it rough and what the hell am I thinking? Well, girls, you’re in the minority. HOWEVER, all women need to remember that, in addition to be straight forward about your sexual desires, you need to be straight forward about your sexual limits. Don’t be afraid to ask for more, but when something feels wrong, say so. Don’t ever do something you don’t want to do in silence and then blame the guy. Silence is dangerous.

Oh boy have I got the spring fever bad! Yesterday’s attempt to find a decent and respectable man proved fruitless as all I could seem to focus on was pics of guys with glistening pecks and bulging crotches who were seeking ‘casual/NSA sex’. This of course is not what I am looking for, but I gotta tell you that spring has a way of givin’ a girl a one track mind!!

Today started off rainy and chilly and is now shaping up to be an even warmer and sunnier day than yesterday, which of course means that I am once again finding myself plagued by thoughts of hot and sweaty sex. Dammmnnnn! It is taking everything in me to not throw my morals and good sense out the window and call up one of these guys for an impromptu booty call! Then again, I could always call one of my backups–these being the guys who didn’t work out as boyfriends but still come in handy on days like this. Ooh, maybe the Professor is around!! (a.k.a. – the best sex of my life!)

OK, must get mind out of the gutter and focus on the task at hand which is finding the elusive Mr.Perfect-for-me. My next stop on the search: which is apparantly free and full of men… hot, sexy, dirty men… *drooling*

Well, I wasted no time and hit the personal ads as soon as I made my vow to set off on this dating frenzy. I started with Craigslist since I am addicted to perusing their ‘Missed Connections’ listings anyway (it’s my replacement for soap operas since I gave up cable). I was immediately reminded by my friend that the one and only guy I ever met on Craigslist proved to be a total nut-job cleverly hidden beneath a sexy accent and uber-hot body. I should have noticed that the skiddishness was more than just his being nervous due to my utter beauty! Turns out that a coke habit was likely the cause of his jitters… and constant trips to the washroom that left him all sniffely. Anyhow, I figured they couldn’t possibly all be coked-up bastards with zero dating skills and decided to have a look.

After weeding out the ads with pics of fat and hairy men in speedos and others with penis shots; I came across two that got my attention in a way that didn’t involve my throwing up in my mouth a little. One was a very witty little ditty with no picture but stats that sounded ideal: tall, early 30’s, dark hair and eyes, handsome, educated, etc. I sent him an equally witty email which ended with my politely asking to see a pic. About an hour later, he politely obliged and what I saw was that he was tall and ultra-skinny–bordering on lanky and his “dark hair” was a dream of what once was judging by the few pieces left combed over his otherwise bald scalp. Hmmm… not good. A day later and I have yet to come up with a polite and witty way to tell him “Homey don’t play that!”.

The other potential suitor has so far proved worthy of my attention. I admit that his pic caught my eye first and then his raw-but-with-good-grammar post just confirmed that I needed to get on it. He appears to be in good shape – not too thin and not obese. He is wearing a cool t-shirt that shows off his torso just right and a pair of jeans in a nice rinse that fit him as jeans should. He’s got good hair and is smiling in one pic and kinda goofing around in both — sense of humour and ability to act silly and laugh at oneself are definite turn-ons. I emailed back and was quite frank about the fact that I don’t see the point in emailing and chatting forever and that we should meet if he likes what he sees in my pic – as if there was any doubt! *grin* Needless to say that he did reply, we did chat on MSN for abit and I am still impressed if not a little excited! Hurrah! So, we will likely meet tomorrow evening over coffee. Will be firming up plans tonight after I get back from drinks with friends on a closed patio overlooking the water now that Spring has finally sprung!

Will report back with deets later.



I have always believed that you should have the highest of standards when it comes to yourself — especially true in terms of the men that you date, since utlimately you date them in hopes that they will be “the one”–the one who sets your heart a flutter for as long as you both shall live. So when my friends tell me that I am too picky, I have a really hard time seeing how that is a problem. If you settle you will end up with shit! Why would I want to date shit??

One thing that I am guilty of in terms of dating though is maybe being a little close minded–yes, strange for a girl who earns a living writing about sex. I tend to want things to go the traditional route: boy see’s girl and is smitten. Girl see’s boy and is also smitten. Boy asks girl out on date. Sadly, since my work tends to keep me in my apartment with only my dog for company (I can’t get it up for my stories at Starbucks like other writers), the opportunity to meet a guy the ol’ school way is just not really there. I realize now at the ripe age of 35 (going on 16) that I really do have to stop making fun of and swearing off other avenues such as Internet dating, set ups and all that. It is not just this realization that has given me the manic shove to get out there and try online dating and such, but also to prove that Mr.Perfect-for-me-in-spite-of-my-unusually-HIGH-standards really does exist and to shut-my-friends-and-family-the-fuck-up along-the-way.

So, as of today, I (who we will call ‘2Picky‘ ) solemly vow to go on 50 blind dates in search of Mr.Right. I also vow to record every hideous/creepy/inane/funny/embarassing and hopefully juicy detail so that other women can learn something from my experience… hopefully something positive though at this particular second I doubt it. Oops – trying to keep my mind as open as Jenna Jameson’s legs!

My search begins on Craigslist