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?

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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.

scruff

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.

Viagra and the Parents

Sometimes I like those shares my Facebook friends post for “Mexican problems” or “Latino Problems.” They tend to be really funny and mostly true.  This little anecdote I am about to tell tends to fit into that category but really anyone who has parents who don’t speak English in this country can relate to it. See, my parents only speak Spanish and ever since I can recall, my siblings and I have had to translate information for them. We’ve all shared our duty of going to the doctors, the mechanic, or even to the grocery store in case they needed us to translate.

It really was no big deal for us as they are our parents. Yeah, sometimes when you’re a teen you don’t want to be the one telling your dad the doctor just said he might have cancer but that’s just the way it is sometimes. However, there are moments when translating for the parents can be awkward but incredibly funny. In my case, it involved my parents and Viagra. Yeah, Viagra!

It was and is very common for my mom to sometimes ask me to translate letters for her. So one day (I won’t say when), my mom gave me a letter in English from their health insurance provider. She said it was for my dad and for me to read it. I had read these letters before, and they were pretty standard letters explaining benefit changes – always the same thing, very boring information. So I took the letter and put it aside and began to watch TV. It lay on the sofa for a while. I ignored it purposely. Finally, my mom asked what the letter said and I said I’d read it soon. She scolded me so I read it.

My mom continued her normal routine – cooking and cleaning. I opened the letter. Pretty standard information: Name and address, ID number, etc.  The letter opened with the usual sentence. “This letter is to inform you that Medical will no longer be covering the following medication: Viagra ….” Wait, what?! Be kind, rewind? Will no longer be covering Viagra? For my dad?! My eyes widened, I turned red, and started to laugh. Then my laughter immediately turned into anguish. How was I going to tell my mom that my dad would no longer be covered for Viagra? This information I did not need to know and I am sure they didn’t want me or anyone else to know.

(I have to take a minute to explain something about my dad. He has diabetes and takes medication for it as well as other medication and some of this medication, well, it affects the libido. Hence, the reason for his needed to take Viagra. End of explanation.)

Another thing, my parents are the strict Mexican Catholics, who attend church every Sunday, and never talk about sex. I mean never! We never had the birds and the bees conversation. If sex is on TV, we change the channel without hesitation (Latino Problems). I heard my mother ask me from the kitchen what the letter said. I panicked. I mumbled from the room and said a lot of ‘Ums’ and ‘Uhs.’ I took the letter with me and told her that the medication stated in the letter would no longer be covered. I didn’t mention which one but she kept insisting and insisting to tell her which one. Even in my adult age, I couldn’t say it. So I did the next best thing and pointed. She was annoyed and snatched the letter away from me. She looked at it and then at me. After realizing what it said, her face went from anger to embarrassment. We looked at each other and she quietly walked away with the letter and went to the room where my dad was at.

I could hear them whispering in their room. My mom came out and continued her normal routine – cooking and cleaning. I pretended like I knew nothing. It took my mom a while to ask me to translate a letter again. I’m guessing she screens them to see if Viagra is ever in any letter before she asks me or any of my siblings to translate. No one really wants to know their parent’s sexual needs or desires but it can be rather entertaining and comical in the least.