i think i grew up with a girl in your tinder photo

While enjoying MLK Day off from work, I was lounging in Lafayette Park with another single girlfriend and decided to take the plunge back into the world of online dating by reactivating my Tinder App and downloading the Coffee Meets Bagel App! I’ve decided to put out into the universe that 2014 is the year I meet the man of dreams!

Since downloading (and shortly thereafter deleting) Tinder over the summer, I was pleasantly surprised by how many more cute and normal guys I was able to swipe right for! I will note that the Ass Slapper from a couple months ago did pop up – he got an instant “PASS!”, That being said I went on my first ever Tinder date this week and have a second scheduled for the following week!

I will admit this week’s date was my first date in the city with a guy I actually found attractive. I was nervous! I was excited! I was ready to fall in love!

Overall, the date was good! Fancy cocktails in the Upper Haight and shared Midwestern roots, sense of humor and taste in music. I may have had some slightly unrealistic hopes of falling instantly in love (thank you early 2000’s rom-coms) but thank goodness for my friends bringing back to earth. On the plus side, he did not appear to have overactive sweat glands.

2014 is off to a pretty good start!


to snap or not to snap, that is the question

Recently while I was back east for my college’s homecoming weekend, I reconnected with an acquaintance from my sorority days. If I’m being completely honest, he was in my ex-boyfriend’s fraternity. Sorry I’m not sorry. Staying true to sorority girl form, this college reunion involved $1 Bud Lights bottles, a ruined pair of shoes and a bar bathroom BOMO (Mom – that’s short for black out make out).

Once my post-college, mid-twenties, two day long hangover wore off girl logic kicked in – what if this guy I had known in college and reconnected with 5 years later was “the one”? For the next couple days we texted nonstop, all day long, every day. In true Jackie fashion he lived in another time zone. I guess I’m just a sucker for long distance romances. We got to know each other the best way one can – through the magic of iMessage and the most unrealistic representation of ourselves via Facebook. Hello, untag button!

Things started to take a turn for the scandalous when I received my first shirtless selfie. I’ll admit we both frequently spoke about fitness and being healthy, but when photographic evidence turned up on my iPhone I felt a bit confused. Was I excited? Was I embarrassed? Is this normal? Was I expected to reciprocate? Can someone please school me on the proper dating protocol with Snapchat and selfies? Does anyone know a 14 year old girl who can teach me how to take an attractive selfie?!?!? I decided to let it slide and politely thanked him for the picture and let him know that I was not that kind of texter.

As our romance graduated from days to weeks, so did the frequency of the shirtless selfies and Snapchats, this time with captions!! “Abs poking through”. Awkward. They weren’t. Another time a photo was sent at nighttime on the east coast while the windows in the background clearly showed sunlight. Was he stockpiling selfies on skinny days? I’ll give him that one – totes brilliant!!

I felt even more pressure to reciprocate after he told me he “really appreciated we could both trust each other” with sending hard copies of pictures via iMessage. Was he serious? I was sharing everyone single picture with my roommates. Obviously I was expecting him to do the same. Momma didn’t raise no fool!

Things finally came to a head when, you guessed it!!! NO, not a dick pic. Get your mind out of the gutter. I received TWO shirtless selfies in one day. I’d ran out of cute and semi-polite ways to respond. In truth, the distance had more to do with the end of this could have been relationship, but my poor iPhone had seen enough and so had I.

let’s get this sushi and roll

It’s been a while since my last post. I’ve been daunted by how best to recap my second date with the ass slapper. As if that couldn’t be the most bizarre date ever, it got worse. Much worse.

 In the days leading up to our date he lead me to believe that we’d be dining at none other than In ‘n Out. I tried to reason with my inner fancy gal, a date at a fast food restaurant could be retro and “cute”. Yea, fuck that. An hour before we planned to meet he asked if Italian was okay? Sure! Oops they don’t have any reservations, sushi okay? Sure! Because there is only one Italian restaurant in the 7×7 mile radius of San Francisco – it books up fast, y’all!

 Sometimes I like when a guy takes charge and orders on my behalf, but when I’m not really given any choice in the matter it pisses me off. My date took care of ordering everything including not one, but two adult beverages. In the midst of edemame and sharing that his mom’s new husband is some sort of arms dealer in NYC, he began wiping his forehead with his napkin. It must have gotten so unbearable because he was forced to excuse himself from the table to get control his sweat glands.

 Let the records state that it was not hot in the restaurant. In fact, it was one of the first chilly, fall is just around the corner, evenings in the city.

 Upon returning to the table he admitted he was a bit nervous. I felt bad for the guy, he truly had nothing to worry about because there was no way in hell this relationship was going anywhere. We picked up the conversation where it had been left off, but a few minutes later he interrupted me mid-sentence to propose that we get the rest of our food to go and go back to his apartment, so he could shower and “get this situation under control”.

 Yes. The mid-date shower. Oh, you haven’t heard about it? It’s all the rage in Europe.

 I was so shocked, I didn’t think as the word “okay” came out of my mouth. I was afraid I just signed up for a one way ticket to life of sex trafficking. While he paid the bill, I looked around the restaurant helplessly. Surly someone must have overheard. They didn’t.

 Surprise, surprsie his apartment was directly across the street from the restaurant. He sat me on the couch, poured me some gross rose, which I didn’t drink until I saw him take a sip. No date rape for this girl! While he hopped into the shower, I sent off a group text to my friends – needless to say they were horrified and worried. I considered leaving while he showered, but the poor guy just got out of a 10 year relationship. That would surely put him off girls for years. Note to self: be less considerate of strangers who invite you back to their apartment. After donning a sweatshirt (umm weren’t you just sweating up a storm?) and picking up the rest of our meal from the restaurant he behaved like a gentleman.

Maybe he could tell I was uncomfortable because he proposed going to a bar to continue our date. It was there that I discovered that he shared custody of his dog with his ex-girlfriend and the worst blow of all… he went to my college’s rival school. I should have known all along he was no good.

what happens when your roommate finds you a date on muni

We all have that one good friend who’s fabulous at always keeping her single friends in mind and her eyes peeled for eligible young beaus. My roommate just happens to be this kind of gal who has a knack for matchmaking. Besides her extensive group of friends and connections in the city, she often comes home with tales of cute men at the gym or coffee shop. However, it’s rare she speaks to them on my behalf. So I was intrigued when she actually had the lady balls to strike up a conversation with total stranger on the Muni. She must have been pretty taken by him to offer up her single roommate. Thus, I agreed to go on a blind date with a man my roommate met on public transportation.

I must report the overall date went well. He piqued my interest enough to agree to dinner later the same week. As a good Midwestern, gentleman he offered to walk me home. Maybe it’s my terrible track record of real “adult” dating, but parting at the end of a first date is the absolute worst! Saying goodbye to a person you just met a couple hours ago, after wine and some reveling conversation is nothing short of awkward. After an announced and clumsy attempt at a first kiss, I turned to head home. At the same moment he swung his arm up to give me that bro like swat you see dudes give each other – You know what I’m talking about. I don’t know where he was intending to land his hand. Back? Waist? Who knows? But slap he did my side hip/butt region. Actually, let’s be honest – it was my ass. As I walked home I couldn’t contain my giggles. My ass had been slapped at the end of a first date. I still can’t decide if this is a positive or negative end to our evening.

I’m looking forward to finding out at Round #2.

sorry i keep saying the f word

Oh the blind date… at one moment so full of hopes and dreams, the next crashing, burning, I need to go feed my cat, destruction. Since moving to the city I’ve been initiated into this realm of dating awkwardness. Mostly by well intentioned friends with my best interests at heart, and recently a few completely misguided, “Hey, you’re both single, but I have no idea if you have any thing in common beyond living in the continental northwest” attempts. I’m always open to the idea, because “You never know, Jackie!” but hours before the date I’m either on the brink of tears or canceling. However, an interesting thing happen last week when one of my best friend’s set me up with a man from my Midwestern roots – I didn’t care!

Not that I was a rude date, I just didn’t care if I looked pretty, had the perfect outfit or said the right thing. I was myself. Now don’t get me wrong, I’d still done my fair share of Facebook stalking, “what if…?” wondering, but I also knew that this guy was only temporarily living in San Francisco and would return home a few months later. While there still was a possibility he could be my Mr. Right, I went into the date actually hoping to get a friendship out it, without the pressure of finding my next boyfriend. And you know what? The unthinkable happened – I had a good time on a blind date!

I’ve noticed a lot of my friends, me especially, put a crazy amount of pressure on ourselves to have it all “figured out” by our late 20’s. I sometimes feel until I have all of my laundry done, my resume updated, an apartment out of an West Elm catalogue and a Henry Caville look-a-like boyfriend (FYI friends who want to set me up on future blind dates) – I just don’t have my shit together. It’s absurd.

The biggest lesson I’ve been learning these past few months is to be a little kinder to myself. I’m pretty great, well most of the time, excluding Monday mornings and post late night pizza bingeing. Why shouldn’t a guy want to take me, the real me out on a date? No one is going to make me happy, until I can make myself feel good about where and who I am right now. We’re all on different trajectories, towards different milestones and stages of life. If we can learn to be a little more patient and accepting of ourselves, as we are with others, maybe just maybe we can all go on at least one mildly, pleasant blind date.photo

where i am in this exact moment

The holiday weekend began like any other weekend in the city with plans for brunch, catching up with friends, a little caretaking back at the apartment and in the back of my mind the possibility of a meet cute with Mr. Right.

Over the last several weeks I’ve been making the effort to transform my usual analytic, trouble spotting ways into more fun seeking, go with the flowing, I can do it mentality. Although, I’ll never be able to sever my Type A ties, surprisingly this time it’s actually working! I feel your skeptical eye roll. Let me explain.

Maybe this time around it’s due to finally being in a place in my life I feel content. In all honesty, I think I was just over worrying. I have wasted so much of the last two years focusing on what I don’t have: the right job, the right city, the wrong hair color (don’t get me started on my brief stint as a ginger) and of course: complete and utter lack of a man I found remotely attractive, also the man I used to have. I’ve overlooked the things in my life that I truly do appreciate and would miss if they were gone. And that is truly a waste.

I supposed I can credit this new, revived me on the thousands of dollars I spent on analysis over the last 18 months or much more likely, I can credit the series finale episode of “The Office” where Andy oh so wisely said, “I wish there was a way to know you’re in the good old days before you’ve actually left them.”

So I guess one of my hopes for this past weekend didn’t pan out… but, I did dance like an idiot with my roommates to African drumbeats, I did go on a blind date with my pant fly down the entire time, I did bask in Friday happy hour sunshine at the immense base of the Transamerica Pyramid, I did get asked out by man I can only describe as the real life inspiration for Adam from HBO’s “Girls”, I did take a challenging and refreshing yoga class and I did have an amazing time all the while!

Lesson for the day kiddos: let’s all enjoy the good old times now, in this exact moment.


happy hour to happily ever after

At the start of a new week it’s time to get organized, motivated and most importantly start making plans for the upcoming weekend! Heaven forbid a gal finds herself on a Friday night with nothing to do but her paint her nails and empty the DVR. Don’t get me wrong, we all need a weekend off to rest and reset, but come Friday at lunchtime my hopes for meeting my next love are about as high at the heels I’m rocking to happy hour.

 By mid-week, I without a doubt, will email a girlfriend something along the lines of “the city is ours for the taking”, “let’s make ourselves talk to at least two guys”, “I’m only buying myself two drinks, any third or fourth beverage a man to purchase for me”. But when I find myself actually out and about, my motivation dwindles like a bar post happy hour. The cause? The usual excuses I tell myself 1.) There’s no one I’m interested in and 2.) I’m more focused on catching up with friends. But in all honesty, I’m lazy and a bit scared.

 Perhaps my job the last 5 years plugging away at a computer, iMessaging, Facebooking and now blogging!! has caused irrefutable damage to my social skills? Which coincidently is the chronic eye twitch of those in their mid-to-late twenties. Again, maybe it’s the “rules” getting the best of me. While I impatiently wait for Mr. Right to spot me across the bar, smile and send over a cocktail, there could be a fun bunch of guys at the neighboring table. Or is it the doubting little voice in the back of my head? Who likes to remind me I’m over dressed for an SF bar or not as pretty as that trollop who just sauntered in. Or finally, do I feel a bit guilty asking for what I truly want – making the first move, being aggressive, taking the cake?

 Regardless of my hang ups, let’s cheers to taking control, being open to change and maybe, if we’re lucky, a new contact in our iPhone!

today a girl has to buy her own kisses

What is it about Walgreens? You go in for one things and $60 later you’ve stocked up on Essie nail polish, Luna Bars and some obscure branded facial product. I was in my neighborhood Walgreens replenishing my Q-tip supply, when I thought to myself “Hey, I’ll get some candy for the office” or what I tell myself when I’ll most likely hide the aforementioned candy in my drawer, only to share with my coworkers when I’m feeling generous and Julie Andrews like. As I rounded the corner – Boom! Cute guy alert! And yes, an alert complete with sirens, disco lights and confetti is warranted for a cute guy.

As I’ve learned living in the city for the last year in the half … San Francisco is utterly, completely and totally lacking on the handsome man front. Please note this statement excludes all gays, those in committed relationships and European tourists that populate the 7×7 mile area of the city.

Tall, dark and good looking passed by me and rounded the corner to check out the chilled beverages. After having a moment to compose myself, I got back to the task at hand… 2/$6 Hershey Kisses – hello! As I contemplated classic milk or dark chocolate kisses, low and behold Mr. Good Looking wandered down the candy aisle once again. Our eyes met and I made my best attempt at a casual and welcoming smile. I’m ashamed to admit that I have legit practiced this look in the mirror. I’m pretty sure I look like a puppy dog who’s run into a wall one too many times. Regardless of my failed attempts to look approachable, he walked down the aisle TWICE! Basic girl logic leads me to believe that maybe he was interested, so I grabbed my bag of Hershey’s Dark Kisses and followed him to the check out line.

I patiently waited for him to turn around… okay seriously, why isn’t he turning around yet?? How can I get his attention? Should I drop something near his feet? Should I grab a pack of gum next to his shoulder? I anxiously fumbled with the bag of Kisses, making all kinds of annoying plasticy sounds that warrant a a glance… then I realized he was wearing ear buds. Eff! Mr. Good Looking never turned around. Not after paying for his purchases, not while walking out the door, not once.

On my walk home I wanted to kick myself. Why did I get so caught up thinking of the best approach to initiate conversation? Why hadn’t I just tapped him on the shoulder and said “Hello!”? I hear urban myths of people meeting in line at Starbucks, heck one of my girlfriends met her boyfriend in line picking up her laundry! I think the hardest thing about dating for me is that I still abide by the “rules” of dating. I suppose I’m partly to blame for not making the first move, but is it wrong that I still want the guy to? At least with rules you have a faded and outdated road map to help navigate the awkward and self-doubt filled first dates. Instead, as I type this some guy I’ve met through an online dating site wants to FaceTime me before ever meeting or speaking . No thank you, sir.