Seriously – I found this note in a plain brown envelope…

I was cleaning up my office this evening in the interests of not sitting in utter chaos and actually getting some work done tonight. I filed some stuff.  I stuffed a whole bunch of other stuff in a blue bag and put it in the basement in the hopes that the shredding fairy will come tonight and take care of it.  It’s looking pretty good – I can see the floor now that all the crap is gone:


And then I found a random brown envelope, nothing written on the face of it, but something made me look inside. I just about pissed myself laughing when I read it…

This is “Pretend Boyfriend” at his best. I have no idea when he left this in my office – but assume it must have been last December or January when he was hanging about here all of the time moaning about his wife. (Or, perhaps, he left it here when he was taking care of my house for me when I was in Cuba last February and having my fun liaison with the Hot Italian Hippie who wears Prada).

In any event, Pretend Boyfriend was probably wounded that I didn’t notice this gem and thank him for his clarity and insight into my life….



As I’ve said before: THANK GOD I AM SINGLE!


Stabbing myself in the eye with a fork would have been more fun than this…

Well, now I know why Mr. Hot is single and his last girlfriend dumped him. His true colours came out on Wednesday night and as a result I have deleted him from my life. Forever. I will never again speak of him or acknowledge his existence after this blog post.

I think the following text transcript is somewhat helpful in explaining why I am so pissed:

Me: I nearly bought allsorts tonight so I could eat all of the coconut ones. But went and got my nails done instead. It was a good day – XXX thinks I would be a great go-to finance person for the local companies they invest in : )

Mr. Hot: Hey, you are on a roll. I would have little doubt. Good for you. And good call on the nails.

Me: I’m pretty happy that I’m still somewhat employable. And that I didn’t send 4000 calories straight to my ass.

Mr. Hot: Ahh, employable, smart and adorable ass. A little less sweet with the candy loss 🙂

Me: You say the nicest things handsome : )

Mr. Hot: You are welcome. Just sayin…

Me: Besides being the hottest man I’ve met in recent memory, you are completely charming.

Mr. Hot: And a dirty mind : )

Me: One of your very compelling qualities..

Mr. Hot: Yours works a bit on the edge too…

Me: You are one sexy man Mr. Hot.

Mr. Hot: I’m hard… And thanks…

Me: Oh I am completely unable to be anywhere near you without being wet.

Mr. Hot: Come over if you would like?

Me: Half hour or so?

Mr. Hot: Sure, door is open.

(I don’t normally ever go to a man’s house but I have two roommates living with me now who were home, so him coming to my place was not an option). Anyway, it was pretty amazing. Very intense hour or so. Between his dirty mind and his big penis, I had a shit load of fun.

And then, it happened… HE KICKED ME OUT OF HIS HOUSE!! Five or ten minutes after he had his orgasm. I am not making this up. He actually said to me “let’s get you dressed”.

I was in a complete state of shock. I have never had anything this gross ever happen to me post-sex. I was speechless (a rare thing for me). So, I got dressed, he tried to hug and kiss me, perhaps realizing that he had just been a complete asshole to me, but who knows. Maybe he is just that big of a douche, I don’t know. I left and he’s lucky I didn’t spit in his face, which is what I felt like doing.

So, I get home and start thinking about this, trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.. Not my usual thing, but I like the guy and he’s been great so far, so WTF was this all about?? Trying to be a grown-up, I wanted to let him know how completely shitty that made me feel. God, I don’t recognize myself writing that. I should have told him to fuck off and let that be the end of it. But no, I open myself up for the fucking weirdest text exchange ever:

Me: I really like you and having sex with you is amazing. But that post sex get away from me asap thing is something I’ve never experienced before except with you and it makes me feel shitty. So not sure what is up with that except that you think I’m only booty call material. Which I get but not what I want.

Mr. Not so Hot (the next afternoon): You are a friend  who I am physically attracted to and you have arrived in my life at a time when I’m not interested in a relationship. I need to spend time with my kids, work through the loss of my mother. A relationship is not on my radar. I enjoy your company and I apologize if I have crossed the line with our physical activity. Let’s sit down with a coffee and discuss.

(Oh, and wait, this is the icing on the cake)

Mr. Not so Hot: …and last evening I took a pill to help with our enjoyment of the evening and at 11:00 the side effects were full on. (dizzy, headache).   Again I apologize. We will manage our friendship with greater clarity…if it is not too late.

Holy fucking just kill me now. If it’s not too late???? I clearly tell him my feelings were hurt and he comes back to me with something that implies I’m at fault. WHO WRITES THIS KIND OF SHIT???? I showed Mata Hari the text. I was upset. How could I have liked someone, hung out with them for two months and completely misjudged them? In the way that only Mata Hari can do, she looked at me and said: “He doesn’t go down on you. There’s something wrong with him. That plus the fact he tried to blame you for wanting a relationship, and telling you that you must have misunderstood things.” I love her so much

I deleted him from my contacts, deleted his texts and dropped off a typed letter, unsigned, in his mailbox this morning:

“If someone thought I was as big of a douche as I think you are right now, I would want them to tell me.

I left your house on Wednesday night feeling like a low-rent hooker that you couldn’t get out of your bed fast enough. The only thing missing was you tossing me some money. It’s a real first for me – congratulations on being the only man I’ve ever fucked who made me feel like a whore. It was beyond demeaning and something I won’t forget anytime soon.

I have all the clarity I need regarding our friendship. Friends don’t make friends feel shitty.

I think I left a purple wrap at your house. If it’s there, please leave it at security at the next time you’re at the office. “

I really shouldn’t have to deal with this shit at my age.  And KMS, you see what happens when you leave the country – shit goes down baby!

Naked Beach, Dangerous Women and Orgasms…

I discovered the naked beach this summer. I have to say, I LOVE the naked beach. Sun, salt water, beer, naked men…. It’s like heaven, but in Nova Scotia. Not to mention the ratio of men to women is awesome and ALL of the men are naked. And no, not all of them are gay. I told KMS that next year I’ll be bringing naked beach business cards with my contact info – I totally missed out on following up with two very handsome, hot naked men that I talked to because – get this – I felt too shy!!! WTF?????  I wasn’t sure on naked beach protocol where hitting on men was concerned so I completely missed the boat on that one. So unlike me – I am not really a person who gives a shit about protocol, but I guess being naked does that to you. Next year, I’m just going to drop my card on the object of my attentions’ naked body and hope for the best.

I love this photo:


A very, very nice man I met this summer (back story – I met him at a good friend’s birthday party out in the country, and we stayed up drinking wine and talking about everything imaginable and watched the sun rise) was in town this weekend and he bought me a book of photos called “Snapshots of Dangerous Women”. I mean, what an amazing gift – that’s one hell of a guy who can actually come up with a gift like that. The inscription from him: “To the hottest and most dangerous woman I know. Luv, XXX”. And when I unwrapped the gift and was looking through it, I stopped at this photo and remarked on how this was completely me and something I would do! And he said to me “I was flipping through the book and looked at this photo and thought this is absolutely you, so I bought it for you”.   It beats the shit out of a bouquet of flowers.

We were lazing about in my hammock and he told me he had a dream about me. In the dream I was standing on a dais, not smiling, not frowning, just watchful. I was waiting for a date. Two men walk into the room, and walk towards me and then walk past me. He has an epiphany and realized that HE is my date.  Then he approaches me. I lean down and whisper in his ear “We have so much to share”.

He is married so I am putting this all down to a mid-life crisis thing rather than me being his soul-mate, which is what he wants to believe.  The only possible outcome of this is bad.  Mostly for him.

I am still dating single, Mr. Hot. (This is the aggressive vagina man). And holy shit this man is as hot as they come. The more I get to know him, the hotter he becomes to me.  He has everything that a woman would like in a man. Classy, well mannered, interesting, funny, good cook, hot body, fit, big penis, attentive lover. I mean, why he is single is beyond me. We had brunch on Sunday morning, and then he texted me in the afternoon to see if I wanted to come over for dinner (his daughter bailed on him, no I did not find it insulting to get a last minute invitation from a man whose daughter bailed on him – I like to think I was first on his list of people to text as a replacement).

So dinner was amazing. I was having a hard time eating. We were sitting side by side and all I could think was “All I want to do is get naked with you and give you a blowjob”. Being a very sexual person, I know what it’s like to find someone hot and want them. But this was completely different – total overdrive.  This man can kiss…  He has touching a face down to a fine art. He completely understands the subtleties of foreplay.  I had two of the most mind blowing orgasms ever. Yes, I realize this sounds like a load of hyperbole, but it’s not. I can’t stop thinking about them. On the downside, it does seem that my “aggressive vagina” (which he now calls the “tightest vagina he’s ever been in”) is somewhat of a problem for a man with such a big penis who can’t just slip in there without some work. Is this Viagra related, or big dick related or what?? Is it really possible that your penis is that big that it can’t fit in a normal vagina without difficulty???

I love having first world problems like this.

Apparently I have an aggressive vagina…

Yes, a man I actually  like told me that a couple of weeks ago (I think I will just call him Mr. Hot). It would appear that he either a) hasn’t had sex with a woman who actually does kegel exercises; or b) he sleeps with women who fake orgasms.

This guy is pretty hot. Mata Hari 100% approves of him, and made sure I spent lots of time with him doing meetings that she would normally have done. But she is a good friend and did me a solid by sending me along instead. Which resulted in me being able to do some major flirting which resulted in a dinner invitation.

This guy is the complete opposite of Mr. Stole the Book from the hotel room in Mexico guy. Mr. Hot is tall, handsome, educated, good job, classy, polite. You name it, he is the opposite. He is charming and witty. And as an aside, completely unlike tortured, crazy, Ashely Madison man.

So, we’ve had seven dates in the past month. He is not lacking in the man department at all  (I was amazed when I saw him naked).  It’s pretty clear to me though, that he actually hasn’t had sex with someone like me before. I suppose being married 30 years to someone who (according to him) never had an orgasm would pretty much suck.

Anyway, to put this delicately (see, I do like him as I’m not skewering him here) apparently my tight vagina is a bit much if you are a man who isn’t 100% hard. Again, being delicate, apparently it tends to push a not 100% hard man out of me.

I actually didn’t know this was a thing. But it is. I guess men my age (which I prefer over the younger ones for some reason) sometimes have issues with hardness.

So, not to belabour the point. I told him if I was a guy I’d be chewing Viagra like candy and it was ridiculous that he should even feel awkward about anything to do with sex. I mean, it’s me. I’m the most chill person in the world when it comes to sex. If I don’t have an orgasm, I feel no need to apologize or blame it on myself. And if he doesn’t have an orgasm, I don’t take it personally at all. But again, I guess most women aren’t like this.

But Mr. Hot (being a perfectionist, I guess) couldn’t relax about this so I had to explain a couple of things to him.

  1. Tight vaginas are better than sloppy ones. Yes, I can grab on better than most, but it’s a good thing and just take the damn Viagra and get over yourself; and
  2. Some women feel the need to fake orgasms, I will never do that, and what you are experiencing is a woman having an orgasm. Not an aggressive vagina.   But an orgasmic vagina.

I’m not actually sure what he thinks about all of this. I think he’s intimidated. Mata Hari thinks he just doesn’t know what to think.

I agree with her.

Please, just kill me now…

Full disclosure – I went on Ashley Madison to see what kind of men were on there.  Apparently, not the kind I should be hanging out with.  No, I did not hook up with a married man.  Yes, I did meet a single man who is in town every second week on business. No, it did not work out.

So, while Ashley Madison man is sitting on my couch telling me that he hopes we can be friends, I get a couple of texts.  But being riveted with the shit-show that is unfolding in front of me, I resist the urge to see who the texts are from and what they want.  I should have went with my gut as it turned out Mata Hari was texting me, and it would have been way, way more fun to hang out with than this asshole.

Here’s how it goes down:

AM Man:  So, I’d like to be friends with you.

Me:  WTF?  (This is our third date – I actually made an effort tonight and cooked him dinner.  Anyone who knows me well knows this never happens).

AM Man:  Well, on a scale of one to 10 on the gregarious scale, I’m normally a five, but with you I’m a two or a three.

Me:  What does that mean? (but inside I’m screaming WTF!!!  Alarm bells, alarm bells! Crazy man!)

AM Man (as he is kissing me and running his hands all over my body):  Well, I don’t feel like I can be myself with you, but you are beautiful and hot and you are a great kisser blah blah blah.  (Then proceeds to do deep staring into my eyes, apparently doing the tortured soul thing).

Me:  Well then, I have nothing to add to this. (I actually had a lot to add to this, but it didn’t seem anything worthwhile on my part to even go there).

Me:  So, well, see you later.

AM Man:  (Deep Hug)  Good night.  Dinner was delicious.  Thank you.  I’m really glad we can be friends.

Me:  Good night. (But actually thinking – get the fuck out of my house please, you asshole, and you are never going to be my friend after that conversation.)

Me:  (Door shut, delete him from BBM)

So, I go look at my phone and I see it is a text from Mata Hari:

“You would not believe the night I am having.  It’s blowing my mind.  My jaw is wide open in shock.”

I laughed out loud.  Mata Hari is my kind of woman.  And when she texts something like that, you know some really interesting shit is going down.

So I call her to find out what’s up.  And yes, there is seriously hilarious shit going down for her, but not my story to tell.  (As an aside, it seems Mata Hari and I have amazingly entertaining lives compared to most other women our respective ages).  Anyway, despite what’s got her attention on her end, (and this is why I love Mata Hari – even though she is having a completely f”””ked up night, she listens to my tale of man woe and had this to say):

“Well, clearly he is crazy.”

I bow down to her!

No man break, lots of man drama…

So, I’ve had dog drama, family drama and all kinds of shit going down for the last month so it’s a good thing that I do find a bit of solace in man drama in that it is a respite from the actual important shit in my life.  Kind of like watching TV is for some people.  Not to mention it makes me laugh.  A lot.

Where to start…

Well, there’s a couple of engineers from Ontario who will probably never forget who I am.

Then there’s Mr. Handsome and Successful.  He actually got his shit together enough to meet me one night, where he proceeded to act weird and it’s possible I may have caused a tiny little scene where I told him he was the most fucked up person I’ve ever met in my life and that he should never contact me again.

I think he found that shocking.  Whatever.

On the upside, I met a fabulously handsome New Zealand man who happened to be in town for a few days and he has to be the most adorable man I’ve ever hung out with.  I was on my friend’s boat on Canada Day, and we were passing by the boat I knew that he was on and I yelled over “I’m looking for the guy who’s on Tinder – tell him Miss Chippy is looking for him!”.  (His Tinder wasn’t working for some reason, so we were unable to get in touch – lucky for me I knew what boat he was on).  To make a long story short, we hung out, he is awesome and may be back in town at some point this summer.  It’s always nice when you meet someone as sweet and fantastic looking as this guy – almost gives me the warm and fuzzies.

On the downside, I was out Friday night with friends and end up sitting by some guy out on the patio of the bar.  My friend KMS and I just sat down and he immediately had two tequila shots in front of us.  Then a bottle of Cristal. Yes, I will take your free drinks.  He kept asking me if I knew who he was.  I told him he clearly wasn’t in the know if he didn’t know who I was.  Turns out we know a lot of the same people.  And yes he is rich.  And holy crap he is the biggest drunken asshole I have ever had the misfortune of meeting in a bar.  His parting words to me, shouted out so that about 20 other people could hear:  “You know your pussy is wet for me”.   Classy.

Then yesterday, I get this text from Mr. Stole the Book from the Hotel Room, which actually nearly made me pee my pants laughing. I admit it, I deserved it.  But to be chastised by a stupid man who can’t spell – this is a first!!!  My horniness on Friday night got the better of my good judgement and I called him in the hopes of a booty call…  I will forever keep this text as a reminder that a vibrator is always a better option.

Booty call chastise

And don’t get me started on the Tinder exchanges.  I’m killing myself laughing over some of these guys!!

Exhibit 1 –  “Beer makes me horny”

Beer makes me horny

Exhibit 2:  He asked me how tall I was.  I told him.

Short man

Exhibit 3:  A definite Swipe Left

Don't swipe right

Exhibit 4:  Just a complete KILL ME NOW!  (His age on Tinder is 44, he’s actually 57)

Old man

Now I understand the purpose of Tinder.  It’s to provide blog fodder for people like me.

Yup, it’s time for a little man break…

And the reason for this is 50% because of last weekend’s completely unexpected shit show of a night down town.  And 50% because the motivation to try and make any plan at the moment that doesn’t involve me hanging out by myself complete eludes me.

Back story:  I got contacted on-line by an engineer from Texas who was in town last weekend for a conference.  We email back and forth.  He was quite amusing and articulate over the email so I told him I would meet him for a drink, and as long as he was charming, handsome, witty and not dressed like a homeless person, drinks could possibly turn into dinner.  That exchange morphed into us arranging to meet at 7:00 pm last Friday at Dugger’s (a very upscale menswear store) so he could ensure he was properly dressed for the occasion.

I show up looking amazing.  Again, one of those times when even yourself can’t pick yourself apart. Although he did not look like a homeless person, he definitely could have used a better outfit (yes I am horribly shallow).  Karen, the fabulous woman who works at the store, had him looking like a new man in under an hour – it was quite a transformation.  She steamed the shirt, took all of the tags off everything, and she rings in the purchase.  Apparently, he thinks designer clothes are the same price as Walmart clothes?  The total was well north of $1,000, and his credit card was declined!  Then two more credit cards were declined!

To say I was embarrassed was a bit of an understatement considering I’m the one who brought this guy to this store and wasted an hour of her time when she could have actually been making money from someone who had credit cards that worked.

It gets better.  He was all dressed in the new outfit (including shoes!).  Then he had to slink back to the changing room to get the old, in comparison shitty outfit back on.  (He said he was going to come back the next day and pay for everything when he got his cards sorted out, and I truly hope he did.  Otherwise bad karma is going to follow him around for a long time).  Then it gets even better.  He wants to walk to the restaurant.  I have 3 inch CFMs on.  I refuse.  Tell him that he can certainly walk if he wants to, but I’m getting in a cab.  And I got in a cab.  And he, sensing that I was in no mood for screwing around about this, followed along.

So, clearly, this guy is an asshole and clearly, I wouldn’t be caught dead having dinner with him as would probably have to end up paying as he comes to Canada with $80 cash and broken credit cards!!  I mean, seriously?????

We arrive at the restaurant and walked in, where I saw many people that I knew.  I figure the best way to get rid of him was telling him he should probably make figuring out his credit card problem a priority, so he left to make the calls.  And turns up about an hour later, I’m assuming with the problem fixed, but didn’t really care enough to ask.  He saw me standing at the bar with my friends.  I looked at him, shook my head, and shooed him away.  Yes, I really did that.  Totally shooed him away.  Yes, I can be a total first class bitch.  Yes, he deserved it.

Then, Mr. Stole the Book shows up.  We go to various bars, where he hits on dozens of women, frowns at any man who comes near me, tries to get me to say I’m his girlfriend, is generally a pain in the ass,  and then back to my place.

I am happy to report that his lack of ability to actually process or comprehend even the simplest of concepts has finally outweighed any desire I have to have sex with him.  I sat there on Saturday afternoon after he left, and all I could think was “how is it possible for someone to be that goddamn stupid????”  (Apparently that chick that was his girlfriend a few weeks ago thinks she’s pregnant.  I haven’t received an update as of today, but last I talked to him, when he dropped by my house completely unannounced on Monday, he was headed to her place with a pregnancy kit and he was going to make her pee on the stick in front of him).

I sat there again on Monday during the unannounced visit and listened to him tell me what a good catch he was, how he wasn’t really thinking about how this chick could maybe get pregnant when he had sex with her without a condom, and how he never thought to ask her if she was on birth control, and how thought he had a lot going for him, and then I tuned out the rest and just watched his lips move and thought, yet again, “you are truly stupid”.  He is definitely charming and a nice guy, and women like him (but I put that down to the fact that most women, and I include myself in there, can be desperate at times and in a bar situation, or a naked situation, he has his charms).  However, to have a conversation beyond anything completely superficial is pretty much impossible.  Anything more substantial than how his grey suit makes his complexion look good is best not ventured. Not to mention, who lives at home with their parents at that age????

On the upside, at least I’m not mourning the booty call anymore.

Mr. Handsome and Successful, who I really liked, can’t seem to actually ask me for a proper date.  Received yet another text telling me that maybe he will be around on Friday night, and what was I doing.  I deleted him.  As handsome and successful as he may be, there is obviously a reason that he is single and I just do not have the energy or desire to try and hang out with someone who may or may not be around, and may or may not be a total asshole.

I’ve reached my tipping point with man bullshit.  So, I’m done.  Done with man drama.  Done with hanging around with 50 year old babies who still live at home.  Done. Done. Done.  At least for the month of June.  And until new, fresh man drama crosses my path : )