The Temporary Object of His Affection

It’s always great when someone makes you feel sexy. Like when you catch a stranger checking you out while you ride your bike, or when a guy from your gym unexpectedly “woofs” at you through a phone app. It’s totally sexy! And a great boost to our self-confidence.

It kind of feels like a drug and you walk around like “I got it going on!” Yes, no one says this but old people. I’m old! – which is why when someone finds you attractive at 38, you’re like yaaasssss!

So when this guy from the gym asked me out for dinner, I didn’t really want to go on a ‘date’ but he insisted that he wanted to do something nice for me. I had been going through a rough patch and he wanted to cheer me up. I was like, “ok”.

He took me to this ‘trendy’ spot for dinner and we chatted and laughed. It was delightful. He was very attentive and complimentary. He told me I had such a great soul and how sexy I was. I was like “hehehe” – all coy and shit. Then he suggested that we go to his place and watch a something on TV. I knew what that meant. But I wanted to make-out – I had been going through a rough patch!

He continued to be charming the whole time we were together and it threw me off. Was he into me or was he just trying to get into my pants? Either way, it was working. The pants flew off. The next day he was still very nice. I didn’t have to use Lyft to get home. He drove and bought me coffee. I was like oh! Maybe he does like me.

ChismeWhen I got home, like a 16-year old girl, I text a friend and told her the good news! The dry spell was over! We met for the chisme. After chismeando, I walked home and I ran into him at a coffee shop, and he was sitting there with a guy (probably his butt buddy). We said “Hi” to each other and I continued home. He texted me later and said it was a delight to see me again and that he loved my sunglasses.

gaspI texted him back hours later (I didn’t want to seem desperate texting right away!) and told him I had fun too and that we should hang out again soon. He texted me back saying he was very busy and that he was still working on himself…WTF?! I had gotten the brush off!  And had just been used! For sex! I wasn’t looking for a boyfriend, maybe a lover, but not a lifetime commitment here.

After that text, I started to wonder. Was it me? Did I come off too strong as wanting more? Or was I just terrible in bed? God, I hope I wasn’t terrible in bed. I mean it’s always off the first time you have sex with someone new, right? Right?? Then I thought about it, he used me for sex because he found me attractive. This was a compliment! I was the temporary object of his affection. It was sexy…in a sort of degrading type-of-way. Instead of wondering why he didn’t want to see me again, I took this adventure to boost my self-confidence because I still had it going on!



Insides on the Outside


As one door closes an other opens 

Last year I met a guy and we connected for a brief moment. It didn’t work out, however, we said that we’d stay in contact. I texted and called him several times and heard nothing. It hurt that he never replied, not once! Towards the end of 2016 an opportunity arose for me to move away from Sacramento to Los Angeles, which I took (Although recent work developments may change this move).

I could not help but wonder why I had never heard back from this guy. My emotional side conquered my reasoning; I picked up the phone and dialed his number. Certain he wouldn’t answer, I had a messaged prepared. The phone rang and rang and rang and rang, and with every ring, my heart felt a little heavy. It went to voicemail and I left him a message that went along the lines of “You mother fucker why haven’t you returned any of my calls…” Okay, not really. Instead I said something like: “Hi! I’m visiting family and I wanted to catch up with you. Since I haven’t heard from you, I will be at the bar where we first met last year after five. I don’t know if you will show up, but I will be there.”

So with that I made the choice to go to this bar and wait…and feel completely pathetic and revel in my patheticness for all to see. I was 97 % sure that he wouldn’t show up but that 3% error margin made me jump in my car and make the 30 minute drive. I showed up a little after five, ordered a beer, and walked to the back where we’d last hung out. I felt as if all eyes were on me even though not a single person knew why I was there. I sat on a bar stool that gave me a view of the entrance door, and pretended to look at my phone.

It wasn’t busy even though the playoff game between the Chiefs and the Steelers had just started. People slowly trickled into the bar and with every-single squeak of the wooden entrance door I would look up, hoping to see a tall, bearded guy. The door kept letting in customers, more guys kept passing by, but I quietly drank my stout. I sat there looking at the empty seat he once occupied, with folded arms and a smile I could not forget, looking over at me and not saying a word because he was waiting on me to say something.


The empty stool made the loneliness palpable 

My reminiscing was abruptly interrupted when an Asian guy asked me how I was doing. It caught me by surprise and all I could do was nod and smile until I was able to articulate a simple “Yes, I’m good.” The crowd cheered and for a second I thought it was because he had entered the damn building. But no, someone on the screen had scored or something. I wasn’t paying much attention to the game at this point and my glass was half empty.

More guys kept passing by: tall ones, short ones, round ones, white ones, black ones, brown ones. It all felt a little dizzying. Was the stout this strong or was hope and sadness impairing my state of being? I read the names and messages carved on the wooden bench that ran along the window that lead to the back patio and wondered if I should carve a message. A deep and thoughtful one about waiting at a bar for someone who never showed up.

I finished my stout and walked to my car. A bus stopped at the light and I looked at the driver wondering if it was the same one he had waved at a year ago as we crossed the street. I got in my car letting myself cry for a minute, and then pulled it together. As I drove home I was not angry or sad that he never made the movie entrance through the big wooden doors at the very last minute. The moment was not about him; I didn’t realize this then but I went to the to that exact same place to let go of whatever had kept me thinking of him for a year… and to drink a beer.

Moral of the story is…he’s a fucken asshole for not showing up! Or, if you want to get all pensive and shit, sometimes we have to allow ourselves to be vulnerable and expose our insides on the outsides.

My Next Mistake

next mistake

I matched with this cute guy on Tinder. We’ve chatted and it went so well we exchanged digits. I haven’t met him yet, but I already know he’s my next mistake.

I can see the signs already. One, we matched on Tinder. Obviously, this is a mistake! Tinder is a pastime for single people who don’t like to read. This is the equivalent of surfing through magazines and looking at the pictures between the words. He’s probably already moved on to someone else as I write this. Look, squirrel!

Second, he seems to be attracted to me. When we exchanged pictures on our iPhones (it’s getting serious, ya’ll), he said, and I quote, “You are insanely sexy.” So basically, he’s like already in love with me or something. I mean, I know I’m fucken adorbs and shit, but he should really get to know my mind as well before he falls in love with this “absolute hunk” (Again, those are his words, not mine). This is obviously moving too fast. It’s never going to work.

Third, he has shit together. He’s educated and has a good career, which only means he’s complicated. He’s probably going to want me to know what I want out of life. Do I know where I’ll see myself in the next five years? I mean I barely know what to wear each morning, so why complicate my life with goals and ambitions?

Fourth, he’s been responding to my texts and even laughing at my lame attempts for jokes. When I asked if he was a runner he said it was his first love, and then I said, “I thought I was.” And he said, “well that’s a given.” And I was like, “you passed the second test.” And he’s all, “I’m on a roll.” Okay, so maybe not so funny but we have cute banter going on there. Cute banter is hard to find. This basically means it’s going to end soon. He’ll stop responding, and the ghosting period begins.

And finally, I kinda think he’s foxy too. I mean, he called me insanely sexy. How could I not like someone who says that?? I’ll take any compliment I can get at this age! He’s charming, sweet, and cares about saving the environment. Ugh, he cares about the environment. Why can’t he care about money like Trump? He also has a cute smile and can grow a beard. He likes the outdoors and is high energy, all these things I am attracted to. This is a set for future disappointment. We’ll meet; it will be cute and dandy, but then he’ll tell me he doesn’t believe in fighting for love.  #MyNextMistake

Have we become disposable?


Are we like disposable cameras now?

Do you remember those disposal cameras that were really popular in the 90s? You used them once, they were cheap, and they did the trick. They were plastic and they were everywhere: the supermarkets, the convenience stores, the airports, basically at your disposal. Lately, I’ve been thinking, because I think a lot…sometimes too much, that in today’s gay culture we have become like disposal cameras. And here’s why…

I’ve been doing this online ‘dating’ thing for a while and seems that if I don’t give a guy what he wants, he will just move on to the next, and that’s quite alright. If he is looking for quick sex, why shouldn’t he have it? Recently, I “met” (by met, I mean we chatted online) a guy and things were great for a second. We had a connection; we had online-chemistry; we had #feels. We even exchanged numbers…but then two days later, he had ghosted me. He was ignoring my very cute attempts at continuing our conversation (or maybe they weren’t cute, I dunno).

I do know, however, that he wasn’t a ghost because he was back online “looking” a few days later. Yeah, I saw his picture with his very active green dot on his profile! Apparently, he wasn’t into an intelligent and attractive guy like me!  (or so I keep telling myself) My point is that because we have guys at our disposal, just like we have an Uber driver at 2 a.m. in the morning, we have become disposable ourselves. We send woofs, swipe right, send messages and pictures to multiple guys to see which one of them actually responds. There is no focus on just one guy. Even if it is to just hookup, shouldn’t you feel special that this cute guy is choosing you because of how big your heart is, or of whatever quality you may possess, not just because you are .3-miles away? It feels like it’s ADD for online-dating/hookups.


Can you feel special with so many guys online?

I’m sure we’ve all been there where we feel we can’t keep up with all the different guys we communicate with. I caught myself the other day swiping left on every guy on Tinder because I couldn’t decipher which guy was better than the other. How can I decide based on a picture if one guy is better than the other? So I swiped left on all of them. I didn’t really care nor feel that I had the energy to care, and I think this is the reason why it feels like we are disposable. We just don’t care anymore to make one guy feel special.

What do you think? Are we disposable? Or am I reading too much into this and should give up on dating at my age? Leave your comments below.

Is quantity over quality better?

quality vs quantity

I love tacos. I like eating them…a lot. But sometime eating too many tacos isn’t always a good thing. Maybe eating two tacos is better, than say, eating 10 because then you really get to enjoy and savor the two tacos. My point about the tacos is that maybe quality over quantity is better, right? Okay maybe eating 10 tacos isn’t a bad thing. They are delicious after all! But when it comes to having sexual partners, is quantity over quality better too? Lately, my friends have been calling me the “Born Again Virgin” because, well, I…haven’t…in a while…with anyone. And it hasn’t been for the lack of trying! The last guy I tried performing this thing everyone seems to be doing finished before anything even started, and the one before him told me he was glad we didn’t have sex because he was 95% sure sex would have been amazing and it would have added an extra layer to our relationship, so it was best we didn’t have it. As you can see, I’ve been in a dry spell of sorts – a drought one might call it (like the one California is currently experiencing).

I have never been a fan of casual sex, not because I think it’s shameful to have a large number of sexual partners but because I prefer and enjoy it more with someone that I have a connection with or care about. Gross, I know! And by care and connection, I don’t always mean love. I like sex and I enjoy it in those rare instances that it happens, and I’ve even tried the occasional hookup but I didn’t find it satisfying. This is why my sexual partner list can be counted on both of my hands. Is that a good or a bad thing? My friends tell me that I am missing out. They tell me I shouldn’t be so prude and just do it! With anyone and everyone! I kind of cringe at the idea of sleeping around in order to just have sex.

A friend who is married told me that the best thing he did was sleep around because eventually he found his husband. It worked for him, maybe that’s what I need to do too??? I sometimes wonder if my selectiveness gets in the way of having great sex with random strangers or even landing my future husband. Hey, it worked for my friend. And there is that saying “You Only Live Once.” We are in this world for only a short period of time and we should enjoy it to the maximum. But should I follow the heard and be like everyone else when it comes to quality versus quantity?

Highly selective.gif

In a way, I’ve always felt that my being selective with who I sleep with has made me somewhat of anomaly in the gay culture. I don’t feel like I’ve missed out mostly because the few and in between partners that I have had, sex has been pretty amazing. I’m 95 percent sure of that! I ain’t bragging here! I’m just saying. But maybe my friends have a point. Maybe doing the casual sex thing could allow me to discover someone new.

What is your take on this? Is quantity over quality better? Am I missing out on great causal sex? Leave your thoughts below.




He Replied All

Reply All

I think enough time has passed for me to tell this story. They say time heals all wounds and this wound of mine is slowly healing. Several months have now passed since this unspeakable incident happened at work. I…Replied All…Yes, I replied all in an email that turned heads for all the wrong reasons.  Where do I start explaining myself…so what happened was…

I work in the office of communications focusing on social media for a department that deals with environmental issues. So on this particular date in late August, Kermit the Frog’s new girlfriend, Denise, was trending on Twitter. Apparently Kermit and Miss Piggy had broken up and Denise was the hot trend. At the same time, our president was in Alaska speaking about climate change. A particular topic that is far more poignant than say Kermit’s new girlfriend, Denise. However, the president speaking on climate change was of no interest to the Twitter world. I was annoyed that people cared more about Denise than say our planet. So I commented to a coworker (who also works in social media) about Denise and how our planet was doomed.

Later that day, my co-worker, who we’ll call PC, sent me an email on my work email account with a link to an article introducing the world to Denise. Of course, I opened and read it. I’m not gonna lie, I was curious about Denise, although I am #TeamMissPiggy all the way. At the same time, my agency was dealing with a crisis in the media.

To give some background on this, an activist was speaking with the media about a particular site, which my agency was responsible for cleaning. The activist was not happy at all with the work the agency was doing. To give more context to my story, the agency recently had employees who sent  emails with inappropriate comments about this particular activist. Let’s say they didn’t say nice things about the activist.

Back to my story: my supervisor emailed a link to an article that quoted this particular activist to his boss and a few others and cc’d me. I had both emails open. PC and I constantly joke around and email each other back and forth work related material as well as non-work related material such as the Denise article. So thinking, I would be witty, I replied back saying “I don’t like her, she looks like a bish…”


She’s such a bish!!!

I eagerly waited for PC’s response, even giggled a little thinking about what PC would say but nothing came. PC usually responds quickly…I kept waiting. It seemed like the longest minute ever! Two minutes passed and nothing. I took a look at the emails and I immediately froze as I saw that little arrow pointing back on my supervisor’s email and not PC’s. All the color in my body flushed away and even felt weak as if something had sucked out all the blood in my body.

Even as I write this, just thinking about it, I want to crawl into a hole. After realizing what I had just done, I panicked and frantically tried to retract the email before anyone would open it. But that shit doesn’t work!!! I sent the retract request but nothing happened. Sweat began to percolate on my forehead. I didn’t know what to do. What the hell was I going to tell my supervisor and then his supervisor and everyone else cc’d?! Yeah, that hole was starting to look pretty good and so was the window of 22nd floor.

I tried looking for my supervisor to explain the email but he was in a meeting with his supervisor and a few other people who also happened to receive the email. So I sat at my desk, pale looking and thinking I had to pack my few office belongings because this was for sure my last day at the office.

Finally, my supervisor came to my cubicle and called me into his office. He explained he had seen the email as well as everyone else cc’d. My supervisor was not amused by my email. He didn’t think Denise was a bish at all! And he was not the only person who stopped by; a different supervisor cc’d in the email decided to come and shake her head at me (Side note: Now she was a bish!).

I was pretty much speechless. With my tail in between my legs, I immediately explained myself and asked for forgiveness. I told him the email was not about the activist or any living, breathing person but about the muppet, Denise. I told him that this was not an appropriate use of my work email. I apologized profusely. Not only did I apologize to him but also to everyone else cc’d.

I was in the “doghouse” for several months. My supervisor took me off some of my high profile projects. I had to walk around with a scarlet RA on my chest. Not only was I ashamed of my stupidity, but I was so scared, and still am, to reply to any emails. Every time I send a work email or any email for that matter, I take about five minutes to inspect it! I get nervous and sweaty. I hesitate to hit send. This incident was traumatizing!

Moral of this story is: Denise is a fucking bitch! #TeamMissPiggy. Also, don’t reply all. Just saying…

Just say something Tinder soulmate!

Tinder Meme 2


I hate admitting that I, on occasions, several times throughout the day, will log on to tinder and swipe. Yes, I have a serious problem. It’s called being single and bored and living in Sacramento.  I don’t like using Tinder and if there was some sort of weekly support group meeting, I would probably attend…and turn on Tinder to swipe (side note: wouldn’t it be cool if you could actually swipe dudes left or right in real life? Like, you’re just walking down the street and you emphatically swipe right on anyone you find attractive…end of side note)

But what I hate admitting even more is that when I occasionally match with someone, which is really rare since there’s basicalliieee only 10 gay guys in Sacramento using Tinder, I won’t say anything…and they won’t say anything. It’s a whole lot of not saying anything. I look at their pictures and wonder if my potential soulmate will say something charming first like “What are you looking for?” or “How is such a cute guy like yourself single?” Okay, so the latter is only to boost my ego, but most of the time it’s just chirps. It’s like if crickets are running Tinder. And when I occasionally read profiles (because as you know, Tinder isn’t about reading), there are those who complain how no one says anything even with Tinder’s encouraging messages to start a conversation such as “Don’t leave it blank” or “Well you’ve come this far, might as well say something” and my favorite: “It started on Tinder”… I am a repeat offender of the silence, however, if someone does message me, I will respond.

Tinder Meme

Only if you say something!

However, what is bothersome is the silence by both. No one is willing to just say a simple “Hello” or “Cute smile”. You know, conversations starters…I mean, you matched with your potential soulmate or two-week lover why not say something! If you are using Tinder or any other application out there with the same functionalities, why not use it for what it was intended for (meaningless hookups until you meet the love of your life when you both get stood up by your Tinder dates). Is there a reason why we stay silent? By making the first move, does it make us desperate or even less appealing? Is playing the waiting game what we’re supposed to do so we don’t scare away our potential mate? Or have we become so jaded by the lack of response when we do say something???

Whatever the reasons might be, it seems counterproductive. We are, hopefully, mature adults who are able to hold conversations and if you matched, just maybe, maybe you will find a connection by saying a simple “hello.” If you like the guy, just say something! What do we have to lose?