Category Archives: O.L.D.

I’ve been online dating since AOL chatrooms and dial-up. I’ve decided to share my experiences with you.


For the first time, in a long time, I can finally say that; I am truly happy. I have family and friends that I love, I have a job that I like, and I’ve learned to appreciate and look at life- glass half full. I’ve learned to not stress over the things I can’t control and to always realize, no matter how bad things may get, they could always get worse.  

This past summer, I was robbed. No- I wasn’t knocked upside my head. I was a victim of opportunity because the perpetrator got to my heart. Yes- I was scammed. Timing had everything to do with how things happened; so, allow me to fill you in on the details.  

It was after my vacation in Florida. I was on a Disney-Sugar high and when I returned; I was feeling great. The following week, I experienced the worst racially-fueled disrespect I had ever received (What Lies Beneath) 

The week after that, I started speaking to Scammer. He seemed like a breath of fresh air to all the other ass-hats I had encounter over the past 3 years. He called me every morning, lunch, night, we spoke for hours and I just knew that this was going to work. I was on cloud nine! Could it be that my luck was finally changing? Would I, finally, be done with all the bullshits? Boy I hoped so.  

We agreed to meet a week later on Saturday, after he finished work. I had purchased tickets to the, On The Run 2 Tour, when I returned from Disney. I had tickets for the Friday night show which was a blessing since Thursday night’s show was delayed hours. There was a forecast of rain for Friday night’s show, but, to my excitement the weather what totally clear. The show was fantastic and I had a blast. All in all, this month seemed to be looking up. Disney, The Carters, and the following day I was going to finally meet the man that had virtually pulled at my heart strings. My luck was changing- Finally. 

Now, before you proceed- you have to understand that, I am in all actuality, very smart. However, the details that are to follow would prove just how dumb one can be, when it comes to matters of the heart.  

I was to meet him, at his job. His bank was running a promotion at the time (You open an account with X much money and we’ll give you this much as a voucher). My account was a bit short of the desired amount so he was going to add to the total. He’d get his new account bonus, I’d get my voucher, and we’d be out- No harm no foul. When I got uptown, he was busy and couldn’t step out, so he sent his co-worker to meet me. She came out, uniform on, so it didn’t cause for alarm. She was supposed to go in and process the transaction and then I would enter as if the account was whole and everything was going to be fine. Until it wasn’t. I was on the phone with him, while he was “processing the transaction”. As I’m on the phone with him, he asks me where do I want to go to eat, and it wasn’t until the mentioned a plethora of hood-spots that I started to realize I had made a huge mistake. Isn’t that crazy- that food made my alarms go off.  I checked my account via my phone app and I saw no bad activity, then once I refreshed what was once $2880 was now $1.86. “You robbed me” were the only words that I could muster. I stormed into the bank, explained that I was robbed, called my bank; but in the end it was too late.  

I walked home with blood-shot, swollen eyes and an empty heart. I didn’t want them to know how dumb I had been; so, I told my family I was stood up. The next morning, I woke up hoping it was a dream, but it wasn’t. It had happened and there was nothing I could do. I had allowed my infatuation with the possibility of love to cloud my judgement. During that time, I pushed away all logic and reason; because I wanted to believe that he was the real deal. And all I found out was that he was a really-really good scammer. If I had been robbed the conventional way, it would’ve hurt less. But because he played with my mind and heart, it was a billion times worse. I guess you’re probably wondering- Where is the silver lining? And here it is.  

Like I stated earlier, I have a way of looking at things glass half-full or; that they could always be worse. I once worked in a bank as a teller. A customer came in with a fraudulent check and I, unfortunately, cashed it; for that I was fired. Although I was sad that I was fired, I realized I had no “real” responsibilities. I didn’t pay rent, I had no kids, and unemployment could easily cover the bills I did have. So, even though I was pissed, I was in a much better place than any of the other employees it could’ve happened to. There was another time; I worked in a restaurant, and I was fired. The silver lining there was being fired pushed to me put my degree to use. I would’ve grown comfortable at that job, had they not fired me. So, it was, yet another, blessing in disguise.  

I connected with this person via Plenty of Fish. This was also around the time that guy was arrested for raping and murdering women he met online; from you guessed it… Plenty of Fish. Who knows what might have happened if he was a murder/rapist, or human-trafficker, instead of a scammer? So-what! I was robbed; but, I’m alive! I know there are many women that go on dates and are never seen again- I count myself lucky. Consider it happened later in life; if I lived alone, had a car, kids? What if it was $30K instead of $3K? I can bounce back from $3K, but $30K – not so much.  

The situation I went through caused me to be wiser the next time someone seemed too good to be true. When I joined FetLife (a site for like-minded kinky people and the occasion pay for play exchange) I was approached my hundreds of men claiming to be “sugar daddies” – this time, I knew better, because of what I experienced. Eventually, after almost 8 months, I did get my money back, so I’m happy about that. But let it my experience be a lesson; when someone seems too good to be true, they probably are..


My 2018 ended on an extremely low note: I had not had sex since August, I was still unsuccessful at online dating, and I felt like I was reaching for blog content. Growing tired of the nonsense, on January 1st, at the stroke of midnight I deleted all my dating apps and I figured I’d take time to just be alone and reevaluate the direction of my blog. 

In January; after a year of carefully writing around the topic, I wrote my first story about my life and dating while having herpes. 

In February; I took another step down the sexually free runway; and I attended my first sex party. I re-downloaded Tinder and Hing, and I explored FetLife (this should be interesting!). This time, however, I decided to have a different approach. What if I stopped searching for a relationship and just enjoyed the art of dating? Sure- many times I’ve said “I’m not looking for anything and I’m just having fun”. Then, like clockwork, on date three, I would begin to wonder: What are we? Where is this going? Big wedding or small wedding? How many kids will we have? Apartment or house?  

This time around, I told myself to STOP! I told myself to not only smell the flowers New York Botanical Garden had to offer, but to enjoy the process of planting them too. The lilies, the tulips, the roses, the hydrangeas, the azaleas, and countless others. I told myself to find happiness in the sowing of the dirt, planting the seeds, the watering, and the sunlight. When a flower dies, that does not make its life lived any less significant. The death of the flower does not erase the joy you found in smelling and viewing it. Instead of waiting for the richest hue right before the decay. I made the decision to learn to enjoy the moments that were happening all around me, from the very beginning to the very end. I was excited to start this new journey. But first… I had to tell my mom.  

So, in March I told my mother that, not only, was I bisexual; but that I was also polyamorous, and non-monogamous. To which she rolled her eyes, gave me a lecture about sex and diseases. To which, I had to remind her that, I actually acquired herpes when I was in a relationship; so, her point was moot. 

For years I was determined to find the one that would deliver me from the endless hurdles of first dates and dry conversations. So, what’s your favorite color? What’s your favorite food? Blah blah! I hated talking to someone, and thinking it was going somewhere, all to find out that they were a total fuck-boy; but I kept on going. I believed that I would swipe right on the perfect guy, we would like each other, meet, fall in love, and live happily ever after. Fear of dating with herpes kept me on this self-inflicted-toxic-path for almost 4 years. I gave into the idea that people with herpes weren’t allowed date casually. If a guy hit on me at a party. I would flirt a little but eventually I would fade away. I couldn’t go around spreading my toxic vagina. I couldn’t have a casual one-night-stand. I had to dive all in and hope for the best. I didn’t have the right to be selective; because, people with herpes can’t be choosey. I had better be happy with whatever I could get! So, what! if he has no teeth, bad acne, not job, and a little wiener. He accepted your virus and now you’re together for life. 

Then I had an epiphany. I am not now, nor have I ever been toxic. I am human and I deserve to be happy. As long as I was honest and upfront about my status, I could do whatever the fuck I wanted. That not only meant starting a situation-ship, that also meant ending one as well. I stayed in many relationships long past their expiration date. If he accepted my herpes, I had to accept whatever shit he came with as well; I had to make it work, because no one else would want me. I had to learn that I deserved the same happiness that everyone else had. I deserve romance, great conversation, and to have fantastic sex whenever, however, and with however many partners my vagina and mouth could handle. As long as I told them up front, I was doing my part. So, I decided to try something different. 

Instead of writing a long drawn out profile, I kept it important to the fundamentals of what I was/am looking for, and I put it all on front street: polyamorous, non-monogamous, bisexual, and herpes positive.  

Non-monogamy, because I am not in a space of solo-commitment.  Polyamorous, because I actually require an emotional connection that precedes the desire to engage sexually (energies over sex). Bisexual, because I enjoy being with women as well; and of course, herpes positive because I’d rather not waste your time if it’s a non-negotiable for someone.  

Within a week, I had a Tinder date; we’ve been seeing each other for just over a month. The following week I met a man from Hinge, and we too have gone on a couple of dates. I’m finally in a place where I am enjoying the journey of dating with no clue on where the hell I’m going to end up. I’m sowing the dirt, I’m planting the seeds, and I’m watering the soil. I’m enjoying the butterflies, the flirting, the conversations, the kissing, and some great sex. I am rooted in my happiness at the moment and hope you’ll continue with me on this journey. 



I have met men from online, long before it was called online dating. Back in my day (I say that the same way your 90-year-old grandparent would say it) it was called chat rooms (my day being the late 1990s and early 2000s). I remember signing onto AOL, waiting to hear that horrible dial up sound, and then the all familiar “Welcome”. I used to spend hours in random chatrooms, talking to boys, flirting, and planning dates. I was cautiously reckless in my youth; I could have been kidnapped, and murdered a number of times but I guess I was always lucky. There was comfort in talking to these guys online for days and weeks. I felt like I got a good sense of who they were and if I lost interest, I could just block them from contacting me. I didn’t have to give over my phone number to a total stranger before I could ask them the questions that I was sure would prove they were upstanding citizens. So, when I grew tired of one boy, to find another I would go back to the chat room and meet someone else.  

Fast forward 4 long term relationships, almost 2 decades of fuckbuddies, and countless flings later. The comfort of online dating is still, despite the much bullshit I’ve encountered, a safe place for me.  

People who would hear my stories first hand would say; “You’re such a beautiful girl how are you still single?” or “On-line dating is for weirdos” or “You should try meeting a man at a bar or something” or “Try doing something that you like-maybe you’ll meet someone there.” So, I started going to bars, no one, that I was interested in, ever approached me. (By the way, it’s kind of hard approaching a girl in her group of male and female friends). I like to write, so I started taking writing classes at GWW, no one looking to date there. I run a lot; but no one is going to see me while their huffing and puffing to the finish line, tap me on the shoulder, and ask me for my number. So, I started getting to my races a little earlier and lingering around after to socialize- still no luck. I went on hiking trips with friends and joined local hiking groups – no luck. I went on chartered ski trips and water park trips, put my best foot forward, and still – no luck.  

After trying to meet someone IRL with no luck I resorted back to my old faithful. I gave my faith and money into these apps the way a church goer gives tithes. I found peace in the algorithms of the apps and I had faith that if I kept paying and random-handsome-man paid, that our paths would cross and it would all be worth it. Since nothing else worked, this had to work. I kept telling myself, one more time, just one month, just one week. That blind faith pushed me to illogical logical scenarios as to why I should continue to pay.  

1- I work in fashion, and since most men were either gay or married; online would weed out those men, and deliver to me men only interested in getting to know me. 

2- The fact that I’m hard to approach. I have an RBF (Resting Bitch Face) and tunnel vision complex. I’m not scanning the crowds for men to give me the “eye” to flirt. And, if an amazing guy happens to catch my eye and actually approaches me, I get extremely nervous and the awkward flood-gates open up. Lastly, 9 times out of 10, I’m too much into my own head to pay them attention and I often word-vomit an, “I’m sorry- I’ve got to go” OR “I’ve got a boyfriend.” (Which has been a lie for over 3 years now) 

3- A false sense of security. On two occasions, when  I did give my number to men I met IRL they didn’t go so well. One, I had to have the cops call and threaten him to stop harassing me. The other, opened up the flood gates on his very fucked up life during the first conversation and proceeded to cursed me out because I didn’t want to visit him at his hotel room, after his sister kicked him out. 

4- I figured it was a way for me to meet men that I, otherwise, would never cross paths with. Random-handsome-guy lives in Brooklyn while I live in Manhattan. The probability of us crossing paths IRL is highly unlikely. However, if I just trust the algorithm of the app; it will align our digital stars and connect us.  

I had to keep hope that he was out there; with just another subscription and a swipe away. I applied the logic of lottery- you gotta be in it to win it. So, I did exactly that and jumped all the way in. I downloaded every app I had heard of: Badoo, OKC, Tinder, Match, Hinge, Coffee Meets Bagel, Bumble, POF, and Zoosk. I uploaded a few carefully selected images, and wrote a witty yet compelling profile; hoping, and praying, that the man of my dreams would see my beautiful smile, read my carefully written profile, and would come to the conclusion that we were meant to be. PIE ON FACE! I poured hundreds of dollars into various subscriptions assuming that paying would give me better odds. MORE PIE ON FACE! Eventually I said, I give up. After a traumatic-life changing experience (which will be divulged in a later post) I had finally given up- I was done with online dating.  

It finally hit me that, on my quest for love, I was not going to find him online. So, I deactivated all my accounts, and deleted all my apps. This lasted for a solid month. Then, when I went to delete some 500 spam emails, there were a few notifications from Zoosk, claiming ‘this person wants to meet you- say hi!’ or ‘Mike sent you a message- log in to see what he said’. Against my better judgement, I signed back into the app only to see a heart emoji, an auto message, or another the subscribe to see what he said message. And there I was- sucked into the black hole of left and right swiping again. I said it jokingly to a friend of mine, but on a certain level I really believe that I became addicted to dating apps. Constantly chasing the high that I have yet to have. Will he be the one? Will he? Left swipe, right swipe, read a profile, send a few messages, get ghosted or bored with small talk, then onto the next. 

In the morning, when I wake up, I grab my phone, my toothbrush, and my bath towel and head to the bathroom. During my morning pee I’m checking my connections, views, possible matches, and I’m frantically left and right swiping my life away. Waiting for the train is no different. With a podcast or music playing in my ears, my thumbs are left and right swiping. At work, when I go to the bathroom, I’ll tuck my phone under my arm, and once I’m seated, I’m left and right swiping again. I baby wipe my private parts, flush the toilet, wash my hands; and go back to my desk hoping that during my next bathroom break I’ll have a message from random-handsome-guy; it’s exhausting. When I don’t have any apps on my phone, I find myself picking it up and looking for a notification that does not exist and feeling a little bit of my soul ripped out of me each time. My fingers (mainly my thumbs) feel restless when there is no swiping going on. I mean, other than hitting the space bar on a key board and giving a thumbs up, what are thumbs good for? Their sole purpose in today’s tech-boy society is to open up your phone and swipe. It’s as if I can feel my thumbs losing muscle memory when there is no dating app on my phone.  

There is rehab for alcohol, sex, drugs, etc. If there isn’t already, there should be one for online dating.



You’re walking through the aisle in a grocery store; and an item, not on your list, grabs your eye- what do you do? Most of us would turn the item around and read the label.  

How many calories? what’s the serving size? How much sugar? How much sodium? Is it gluten-free? Is it lactose-free? Is it soy-free, low-fat, no-fat, trans-fat, nut-free? We rely on labels to help steer us clear of any and all items that may be detrimental to our health and/or current fitness goals. You wouldn’t walk into a store, pick up a totally random item, and buy it without knowing what it is or if it’s good for; would you?  

In 1862 President Lincoln launches the Dept of Agriculture & what we now know as the FDA.  

In 1958- Food Additives Amendment makes it a requirement for manufacturers to declare all additives in a product.  

In 1966 Fair Packaging & Labeling Act requires all consumer products in interstate commerce to be honestly and informatively labeled, including food. 

In 1994- Introduction of the Nutrition Facts panel, basic per-serving information is required on most foods under the NLEA of 1990. 

In 2003- FDA announces food labels to include trans-fat content. (Effective 2006). 

The above is just a tiny example of how we, the consumer, have become reliant on labels in relation to what we put in our bodies. As you can see; as the years passed labels and information became, not only more available, but more detailed for the consumer.  

So, why do we not require the same when it comes to the world of dating? Why do so many people resist labelling their encounters, then turn around and become upset when things don’t go their way? If you’re driving from point A to point B you have a road map and a set of directions that will aid you in reaching your destination. However, so many people hop into vehicles (situations) at point A and have no idea where they want to end up. News flash! That fly by the seat of your pants approach only works in movies. In real life, entering a situation without a goal in mind will almost always have you driving yourself off a cliff of crazy.  

As I write this post, I am single. I am not having sex with and/or dating anyone at this moment. If I meet a person that I fancy and they fancy me back and we go on more than one date, we will be “dating”. If we decide that we only want to date each other, then we are “exclusively dating”. Once we decide to be in a monogamous relationship, he becomes my boyfriend and I become his girlfriend or he’s my man and I’m his woman (if the other seems to adolescent for you). We remain partners (boyfriend/girlfriend) until he proposes; in which case we share the title of fiancé. And finally, once we are married, I become his wife and he will become my husband. These are the labels I grew up on, and I use these labels to define my relationships. However, over the years I’ve realized that I am now in a world of “non-labels”. These connections have names but their title is Hella confusing and often undefined.  

For example, you have: “boo” and “bae”- but what does this mean. Terms of endearment –do not a commitment make. Then you have the: “just chilling” and “seeing where things go” that tend to linger on for eternity.  

And lastly you have the: Friends w/ Benefits (FWB; which in most cases is just a glorified title for fuck-buddy. (Especially when nothing is done outside of sex) I don’t have sex with my friends so- we are not friends with benefits; we are either fuck-buddies or in a sexsationship.  

In this new era of dating it seems that nobody likes labels. I often watch reality TV; and there’s always some girl dating some guy and she’ll ask him “what are we?” and he’ll often respond “we’re just chilling” or “you’re my bae”. A few weeks later or in some cases, after a commercial break, they’ll be another girl dealing with the same guy. When he’s confronted by either girl A or B about his infidelity he says “I never said we was exclusive” or “why you tripping?” blah, blah, blah; the girls fight each other and commercial break. Over the course of the show the girls go back and forth arguing with each other and or him. I’m often left wondering why don’t they: establish clear exclusive rules with the guy before assuming he’s on the same page. Meaning- label and define the commitment; so, he knows that he has a girlfriend and you have a boyfriend and there can be no gray area for misunderstanding. 

I don’t subscribe to this lack of labelling. The whole- seeing where things go, is a bull shit excuse for- I like you; but I want to keep my options open, just in case someone better comes along or you change up on me. I need a label to know what the hell we are doing and where the hell we are going, and if we’re both heading in the same direction. There is always going to be someone you find more attractive than the person you’re with and the same goes for your partner. The challenge is seeing what you currently have in front of you and deciding to walk that road together. Not every road is going to lead to happily ever after, but there is always a lesson learned. The problem with dating (especially in the era of left & right swipe) is that people are always looking for the next best thing. You can get everything delivered; medications, food, movies, groceries, clothes, etc. Buy an outfit, you don’t like it send it back- easy. But that’s not real life. You have to put in some kind of work for the results to be worth it, but you’ll never know how much work to put in if there is no title, label, and or goal to be met. The expectations for your fuck-buddy (FB) is totally different from your partner (BF/GF). If you allow the behavior of a FB to become standard you may find yourself slipping into a half-ass relationship. For Example: With my last ex (The Fuckboy from The Ex Files); it was obvious I did not have these standards when I started dating him. I let the sexsationship roll on for months without expectations, because we wanted to “see where things went”. The problem with this was; once I knew I was ready to be exclusive I didn’t say anything for fear he would leave if I pressured him. So, I found myself in a less than satisfactory relationship.  

I find that many of us, especially women, will allow ourselves to remain unlabeled because we don’t want to scare our partner into commitment. This fear is totally understandable, but we have to ask ourselves- what do we want and how long are we willing to wait to get it? It doesn’t take me long to decide if I want to try dating a man exclusively. Normally, within 5 good dates, and good conversation I know if I want to give it a try. If after 5 dates I don’t see myself being your girlfriend, I will begin to draw boundaries that puts a man in the “friend zone”; he may be nice but- he’s just not for me. 

If you truly want to be single, then be single. If you want convenient sex with not commitment, then make that clear to your sexual partner. You don’t have to say “we’re fuck buddies” but make it clear that you are both free to do whatever each of you wants. Do not string the other person along because you are too chicken-shit to be honest about what you really want and/or are willing to give. If you find yourself in a situation where you want more but your partner keeps leaving you without a clear answer; you have to make the decision for him or her. Make it very clear what you want and be prepared to walk away if your partner is unwilling and/or not ready to be what you want- LEAVE! Staying in a half-ass situation because you don’t want to “be alone” all while you often find yourself “alone” is simply crazy. Stop playing the non-labels game and PUT A LABEL ON IT!


I started talking to M_OKC in the early fall of 2016. He was good looking, Dominican, in his early 30s and lived in the Bronx. We connected on fitness and the fact that we liked similar tv shows. He said he worked for Time Warner Cable (before it became Spectrum) and worked part time as a trainer at a gym. I was training for the marathon and he offered me tips on vitamins and recovery stretches. We agreed to meet one afternoon at the Starbucks on 96thand Lexington. I arrived a little late but he wasn’t there yet so I ordered me a cinnamon dolce latte. He sent me a text that he was running late and would arrive soon, so I waited. About 45 minutes later he arrived. He greeted me with a hug, went to the counter and ordered his drink then came back to sit with me.

The conversation was smooth and engaging. We cracked jokes and briefly discussed past relationships and upbringings. He got into fitness for health reasons and was eliminating red meat from his diet. I was just trying to not get any bigger and run faster. We talked about the current shows we were both watching Game of Thrones, Power, The Zoo, Criminal Minds etc. We talked for a few hours until he had to go home. In conclusion; he showed up, was engaging, I wasn’t bored out of my mind and he didn’t mention sex; so overall, I considered the date a success. He walked me back home (which was only 10 blocks) but still a very nice gesture. He stood on the side of traffic which was also a good sign. At my building we hugged and then parted ways. We spoke on the phone regularly until our next date. He suggested we get dinner and ice cream and I said that sounded like a plan.

I was under the assumption that we would meet downtown in Manhattan, find a place to eat, then get ice cream. The day of, he asked me to meet him on a train in the Bronx. I told him I didn’t know of any ice cream places in the Bronx. His response was Carvel. Now, I don’t want to come off as stuck up but I don’t eat Carvel, ever. Maybe if I’m at a party and there is an ice cream cake I’ll eat it but that’s a rare occasion. Silly me, I thought Pinkberry or Haagen-Daaz, but what did I know. I tried not to be a pest and decided to go along with this plan. He told me to meet him at 161ststreet, so naturally I got off of the train assuming that we would meet there then walk to dinner and ice cream. He tells me to get back on the train. (His exact words were: “I didn’t tell you to get off”) Fine- Whatever! I get back on the train we meet up and take it a few stops further into the Bronx. He asks if I’m hungry and suggests we get tacos. Anyone who knows me knows that I love Mexican food so I was all for it. We get off the train and walk to a Mexican restaurant. It wasn’t by any means a hole in the wall but it was not a place for a second date. It was more a restaurant where you go if you’re already a couple, not when you’re trying to establish a foundation. However, since I was familiar establishments of this caliber as I have one similar by me, I was content. I was hungry and I knew the food would be good so I didn’t complain.

On the walk there, I mentioned that I wanted a margarita. Once inside, I told him I wanted chips with guacamole, 2 al pastor (pork) tacos and a margarita, I then went to use the bathroom. When I came out, the lady had just walked away and I asked him about my drink. His response was less than enthusiastic. It was as if he had an attitude that I wanted a drink while I waited. He mentioned he had tequila in his place, at which point I said we’re not going to eat it here. His response; “Nah.” I could already tell where he thought this night was going to go. (Key word: thought) We walked up the hill and stopped at the corner store. He got a gallon of water and air freshener and went to pay with his card. The man at the counter said there was a minimum of $10 at which point he proceeded pick up some random items to make that total, not once asking if I wanted anything. When he goes to pay his card is declined. He pulls out another card, pays, and we leave the store. On the walk to his place he’s complaining that money should be on the card, and that he has to call the bank… blah blah blah.

When we get upstairs he takes me into his room which is pretty clean for a guy but nothing fantastic. He goes into the living-room and brings in the TV. To myself I’m thinking really. You work for TWC why don’t you have a TV they aren’t super expensive. He pulls out an unopened bottle of Patron and says see. You can have a drink here. I tell him I wanted a margarita not a drink and that I don’t drink liquor straight and since he had no juice I would just drink water. We sit on his bed to eat the food. He starts complaining about how small the guacamole is for the price. All the while I’m thinking “Broke ass-hole”.  When we’re done eating he plugs in his laptop to go on YouTube. Again, if you work for cable don’t you have a discount? How can someone be that cheap? He puts on a movie and we lay back and start watching. He starts rubbing on my arm and trying to get close; at this point I am not with any of this so I reciprocate nothing. As he’s rubbing my arm he asks me “How does that feel?” to which I respond, “Awkward”. He tried again to rest his arm across by body, a little under my breasts. I lift his hand and remove it from my body and place it on his side. We continue to watch the movie like two statues, I laugh periodically while he is silent. When the movie is over I say I have to go.

As I put my shoes on, he’s sits up but makes no movements to do the same. I tell him I don’t know where I am and that he has to walk me. With resistance he puts on his shoes and we walk downstairs. He walks me about a 2 blocks and leaves me with instructions to keep walking straight. We don’t say good-bye we just go our separate ways. That nice gentleman that walked me home when we first met was long gone.

I don’t like to count a man’s pockets, but why try and talk to a chick if you can’t, in the very least, afford to buy her simple shit; like coffee, a cocktail, etc. The fact that he didn’t offer to buy me a coffee at the Starbucks- I looked at him sideways, but didn’t hold offense- I let it slide. When he said Carvel for ice cream- I tried to get of my bougie hoarse and be open. When he got an attitude about me wanting a margarita- I was taken aback. When he didn’t offer me anything in the store to make the $10-I started to realize. When his card got declined for $10- I chuckled inside. When he pulled the tv from the living room into his room- It started becoming clear to me. When he used his laptop for connection- My mind was made up. When he bitched about the food- I was over it all. But, when he tried to have sex after all the preceding incidents of that evening- That’s when I was all the way DONE.

This wasn’t the first time I met a broke ass-hole, and it wouldn’t be the last.



I met Justin via Tinder last summer. When his message first came across my phone I wasn’t sure that I was interested. I was going through one of my on again, off again phases. Sometimes I was all in, and others I was just killing time, so I was reluctant to say the least. We began to exchange messages; he sent me a more flattering picture. In the picture he sent he was sitting on a chair, ankle up and crossed over his thigh and a beer in his hand. He wore a fun colored plaid shirt, khaki slacks, and brown shoes. I was particularly fond of his curly reddish-blonde hair and I liked his style. He looked interesting so I decided to give him a chance.

I found out he lived in Brooklyn, and worked in finance, not far from where my office was located. We bonded over movies, fitness, and similar tastes in TV shows. Our conversations always remained light; we spoke whenever we both had time and there was no pressure. A few weeks had passed and the conversation began to progress. We started talking about past relationships, current dating situation, etc. By this time I had been single for two year; he said he was single for a little under a year. Our talks had begun to take a sexual turn. This was shortly after my experience with the gherkin and since I did not care to relive that type of situation again; I asked him for a dick-pic. He wasn’t, by any means, huge but he could definitely satisfy. As our communication became more consistent we arranged a meet up.

We agreed to meet at a local bar, equidistant from both of our offices, and grab a drink. I got to the bar a little early and ordered a margarita; he came in shortly after me. He went downstairs and sent me a message to meet him. I left my drink at the bar and walked to him. We immediately started kissing. His hands were all over my body. I had no clue what I was doing, and yet, I did not stop it. His kisses made me weak in the knees, his hands roaming all over my body sent waves all over me. We pushed into the bathroom and continued our tirades. We went into the last stall, and he sat down on the seat, he lifted up my dress, turned me around and started kissing my ass. The moistness from his tongue mixed with the cold air from the bathroom AC made me even wetter. He removed my thong, smelled them, and placed them in his pocket. He delivered a combination of nibbles, licks, and bites to my ass. I was bent over and his face was buried in my ass and delivering to me never before experienced pleasures. It was my first time receiving orally delivered anal pleasure. I was used to receiving vaginal oral and occasionally a finger inserted in my ass but this was unfamiliar and erotic territory. I was in heaven. This went on for about 10 minutes then he got a call that he had to go back to his office. He turned me back around to face him, buried his face in my vagina and delivered a few warm kisses. We kissed as he pulled my dress back down and we made sure the coast was clear. He left first then I followed shortly after. He was waiting for me outside the bar; we exchanged a few more kisses then walked back to our offices.

He called me when he got home in the evening. We relived the bathroom details and I asked him about my thong. He told me that before he left work he went into the bathroom to satisfy his urges. I had to ask him what his thing was about underwear and he said it was the pheromones and that my scent aroused him.  As our talks continued he became obsessed with the idea of collecting my underwear. I mentioned that I liked to take hot yoga and he asked to meet me after a class one time so he could get a high (his words- not mine), but our schedules constantly conflicted.

After a few weeks, we tried to arrange for a date after work, that would end at his place; which he again had to cancel. His family, from the south, came up to New York to get away from the hurricanes. A few weeks past, and I went on vacation. When I got back he was on a whole different channel. He told me he signed us up as a couple and wanted to find other couples. At first, the idea didn’t seem too bad (by this time I was in my explorative phase). I told him once we became more acquainted I wouldn’t mind exploring. However, I eventually got extremely annoyed with the idea of it all. The issue being, that we had not actually had sex yet but he was eager to bring in new people. He wanted to arrange another date, after work, and to go to a hotel. This had always been a red flag for me. I didn’t understand why, if a man had an apartment, would he choose to pay for a hotel? I called him out on this multiple times. By this time his family had travelled back down south so his apartment would have been available. I came to the conclusion that he was most likely in a relationship and wanted to explore his sexual desires with me. He denied it on multiple occasions but I refused to believe him. We ended our ordeal.

I never got my thong back. I really liked them too.  

What Lies Beneath


I told myself; when I decided to start this blog that I would write my posts based on prior experiences. I feel that I have done my best to remain true that rule; however, every so often I am forced into dealing with a situation that must be shared. This is one of those times. On previous postings I did not use the subject’s name- I will not do so in this post as this person deserves no anonymity.

I had matched with Kev (a white man), through Tinder. We spoke casually for what was probably a week and we seemed to have a lot in common. When I say a lot- I mean A LOT. We liked the same food, the same TV shows; we spoke about comic-con and he joked about going with me. We discovered that we lived near each other, just 10 minutes away. I was leaving for my Disney vacation on Wednesday morning and he wanted to meet up Tuesday night. We spoke on the phone while I was at work on Tuesday and he said he would give me a call at 7pm to confirm our plans to meet later, at 9:30pm. When I got home from work I decided to wind down. I waited for his call, but it didn’t come; I just chucked it up to another ghosting. I was heading to the gym when he gave me a call at 8:30pm. He was ready to meet, and I told him I was already on my way to the gym but I could meet him when I was done in 45 minutes. At the same time I ran into friends I had not seen in a while so I told him I’d call him when I was done so we could meet. I got to the gym, did my workout, and texted him at 9:20pm.

Me: Hey, so I just finished. I’m going home to freshen up then I’ll walk to you. I can meet you on your street then we can walk south a bit.

Him: No sorry going straight to the bar on 85th

Me: What?

Him: What part of that is confusing? I was going to meet you at Supply House on 85ht & 3rd. But never mind my phone is dying and I dont feel like waiting until ten anyway. We had originally said 9:30. We can meet when you get back.

Me: Noted.

Him: Yea I mentioned that on the phone but you were distracted then hung up on me. Have fun on your trip.

Me: You also said you was going to get back to me around 7 and you didn’t until 8:30. So me squeezing in a workout isn’t exactly my fault. If we met at 9:30 we’d still be out beyond 10 so I’m not fully understanding the cancellation. But if you’re tired and not in the mood I have no choice but to respect that. Have a good night and I hope we can meet when I get back.

**I WAS GONE FOR 11 DAYS: I did not hear from him the entire trip so I was not expecting to hear from him once I got back, which was on Sunday night. So, imagine my surprise when he messages me at work on Monday.

Him: Are you back from vacation yet?

Being the bigger person and acknowledging that we did have a lot in common I put my initial reservations to the side. Men get antsy and annoyed when your world does not revolve around them, so I assumed he was emitting the same behavior.

He asked me how my trip was, and asked me what did. Besides the delayed flight back because of the weather, the trip was amazing. We picked up the conversation and all seemed to be going well until this happened.

**The below dialogue is the exact exchange between Kev and I. I did not edit or enhance.**

Him: So hey would you potentially be open to being just friends? Running partners specifically?

Me: I have no preconceived notions when it comes to men. So even though our paths crossed on a dating app; at the end of the day if being friends is more suitable I’m totally fine with that.

Him: Lol um ok then.

Me: Lol- what was you expecting? Did you meet a female while I was away that more tickles your fancy?

Him: Just saying a simple “ok” would have sufficed. And what was you? Don’t ever speak ebonics to me, even if just friends.

Me: What were* you (easy mistype). But I’ll remove the option of friends. I’m not a fan of the way in which you choose to talk to me. So from this moment forward we never have to communicate ever again. Have a nice life!


Him: “what was you” isnt a typo you fucking retard. It’s your niggerness coming out. Deuces! You were the jackass who were rude enough to try to postpone our date a few weeks ago back by a full hour. You think I really would have given you a chance after that? You’re dumber than shit apparently. Run along now.

Yes. I will give you a second to pick your jaw up off of the floor. I was extremely shocked at the words he used against me. I have dealt with disrespectful men in my past so his tone, although completely unacceptable, was not new to me. What really got under my skin was the use or race.

His decision to bring racial slurs into the argument (if you can even call it that) was completely unwarranted. I was in shock and didn’t quite know how to react, so I sent the screenshots to my friends and they too were shocked. In previous, similar situations, I would vent about it to family and friends but I took it a step further. I posted the conversation on Reddit, Instagram, and Facebook and the consensus was overall the same- to expose him. I will discuss how I choose to handle him on a later post; but for the moment I have to address the issue that seemed to radiate from my friends comments on the post.

They pose the idea that they (meaning all white people) feel that way, deep down. I can honestly say that I have never been on the receiving end of racial slurs (dating or not) in my life- I have been that lucky. I also have worked with white people majority of my life, so I know they don’t all think like that. I have met enough nice white men in my years that truly love black women; so I know that the swirl is real.

What bugs me about the situation was, had this situation never happen, I would have had no idea of the dark thoughts that plagued his mind. I mean; why would you reach out to me (a black woman) if those thoughts were roaming around in your brain, ready to be fired at will?

It really made me take a moment and consider adjusting my vetting process when it comes to dating men outside of my race. It also made me hyper aware of “white-privilege-heartbreak”.

He was not mad that I was not ready when he wanted me to be. He was mad that I (a black woman) was not ready when he wanted me to be. He was mad that I didn’t drop what I was doing and run to him.

He was not mad that I was ok with being just friends. What he wanted was for me (a black woman) to be sad and beg for him to want to date me. And when I was ok with just being friends his ego was further hurt.

And then came the last straw. When I took all communication off of the table, it was as if I put black face on him and made him top billing on the minstrel show. That was when he lost his entire white mind.

And at the core of it all, him bringing race into the conversation proved that it was not the rejection alone that was the issue; it was the fact that the rejection came from me (a black woman). And, because he was experiencing white-privilege-heartbreak he decided to fly his true flag.

I refuse to believe that thought like this linger below the surface of every non-black person. I still continue to believe that true love is out there for me. I just hope that I will be wiser the next time.