My Adult Dating Life: Katie

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A Look Back at My Relationship with Katie

I met Katie on Match.com, one of the primary dating options in Mormon-laded Idaho Falls. She was a single mother with a six-year-old son, working her way through college. She was pretty, brash, personable, and incredibly driven. She was also three years older than me, which would later become an issue.

In the beginning, our relationship was great. We'd hang out and have sex, and it felt like nothing else in the world mattered. But reality always set in. She would go home, and I'd be left alone in my apartment—or not really alone, since I had my friend, alcohol, to keep me company.

As time went on, I met her son. She warned me that he had severe emotional issues (she was correct) and occasional (frequent) violent outbursts, and to be honest, he and I never really got along. It's hard to say, but he wasn't an easy kid to like. He was emotional, rude, dramatic, explosive, and often hurtful to his mom. While all of these things drove me crazy, I said nothing at first.

Months passed, and as I felt more comfortable, I began to speak my mind about he treated her. This never went well. Her son would freak out, Katie would freak out, and everyone ended up miserable. If you take that one event and imagine it happening three times a week over three years, you'll get an idea of what our daily life was like.

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The Toll of a Toxic Cycle

It was difficult to watch the stress her job and her son took on Katie. When we were stressed, we drank. When we were happy, we drank. We found an excuse to drink for every occasion. My own drinking progressed until I became very sick. I spent months in the hospital with several medical scares that nearly killed me. I missed months of work and worried if my life would ever be the same...but also worried it would be exactly the same. 

During this time, Katie got a new job. It was great news—a huge pay raise—but it meant many more hours. She became a different person. "Stressed" doesn't even begin to describe it. Her fuse became incredibly short, and angry outbursts became the norm as did "wine nights. 

I tried talking with her about it a few times, but the conversations always went poorly, so we stopped talking about anything. We ignored it, and I drank even more, even though I knew I shouldn't have. We'd "break up" a few times, and many of my things would get broken outside my dump of an apartment, but then we'd get back together. Despite everything, no one was happy.

"Not happy? Buy a house! Not happy? Get married!" Makes sense, right? That's what we planned to do, and as the days got closer, I began to wonder, "Is this what I want for the rest of my life?" Sadly, I contemplated these decisions while drunk, which only made things 1,000% worse.

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The Aftermath

On April 25, 2018, I pulled the plug on everything: the job, the wedding, the house—everything. After four years, I was done. I was drinking myself to death. I was miserable, unhappy, and 1,600 miles away from all my friends and family. I left almost everything I owned behind, still not sure if I'll ever see any of it again. I got in my car and tried to go home.

In the aftermath, Katie hates me, and rightfully so. I  burned all my professional bridges in a place I called home for a few years.

What now? That's an excellent question. I'm trying to figure that out. Sometimes, knowing what you don't want is just as important as knowing what you do want. At least, that's what I'm telling myself to get through tonight...it's 3:17AM. 

Tinder: A Reflection on Modern Dating

It recently dawned on me that it's been a while since I've explored new dating sites, a realization that hit me as I was busy swiping on Tinder. For those unfamiliar, Tinder is a mobile app that uses your Facebook profile to create a simple dating profile. What began as an app for casual hookups has now become a viable option for serious daters. And it's free, sort of—more on that later. My first impression of Tinder was that it was bizarre and superficial. Once you open the app, it uses your location to find matches nearby. The only filters you can set are the age range and distance. As photos appear, you swipe left to reject and right to accept. If both people swipe right, you're a match and can start texting through the app.

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My Conflicted Feelings on Tinder

I've struggled to write about Tinder because of my mixed feelings. On one hand, it's easy, fun, and a quick way to check out potential matches. You can glance at a picture and instantly judge if someone is "worthy" of your time. We all do a version of this in real life—scanning a crowd, spotting an attractive person, and instantly checking their ring finger. However, something about Tinder feels much more shallow to me. The swipes are a quiet, thoughtless acceptance or rejection, and I'm just as guilty of this as anyone.

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A Real-Time Analysis

To illustrate this, here’s a real-time analysis of some of my recent Tinder matches (names and ages have been changed):

• Amber, 25: Very pretty, four-word profile. SWIPE RIGHT

• Lindsay, 29: Two similar interests, no written profile. SWIPE LEFT

• Renee, 30: No written profile, attractive, kids in every picture. SWIPE LEFT

• Jenna, 37: Not attractive, lots of pictures of cats and kids. SWIPE LEFT

• Sammie, 28: Very cute, tons of tattoos, one similar interest, no written profile. SWIPE RIGHT

What did this little experiment teach me? That I can be a terrible, superficial person. But isn't that the point of Tinder? You make split-second judgments and move on to the next person. While technology has changed how we meet people, we have to ask if it’s for the better. We're now screening potential partners based solely on a few photos, shared interests, and a couple of sentences. A swipe left banishes someone from our lives, while a swipe right puts them in a "maybe" pile.

I'm not saying this is entirely wrong, but it does feel like we've become our online "profiles"—easily created and just as easily discarded. After writing down whether or not someone is "worthy" of me, I have to admit that a swipe left for myself feels well-deserved.

Smoking! (And other reasons women have broken up with me)

When I started thinking about why women have ended things with me, a few reasons came to mind. Here they are, in no particular order:

• Their mom told them to break up with me. (Yes, this happened with my ex-wife.)

• They couldn't see a future with me.

• They typically date guys who are "more fit." (This really makes me question the "honesty is the best policy" thing.)

• They wanted to get back together with an ex.

• They love oral sex way too much.

(I made up one of those. You can guess which one.)

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New Reasons 

Recently, I've run into two new and rather unique reasons for getting dumped:

• "Because your mom is technically my boss."

• "Because smoking cigarettes is more important to me than this."

Let me break these down for you.

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The Boss's Daughter 

Yes, her mom was technically my boss—and I mean that literally. My boss found out we were dating and told her daughter to call things off, and she did. This one felt all too familiar, echoing my first reason.

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The Smoking Issue 

This one was truly fascinating. I met Deb on Match.com. She was spunky, cute, fun, and not Mormon, but she smoked like a chimney. Now, smoking is usually a deal-breaker for me, but I'll be honest, I was running out of options. We lived an hour apart and would hang out about once a week. We'd have a few drinks, she'd smoke, and I'd pretend it didn't bother me.

I did eventually tell her that I wasn't a fan and that it did bother me. She would go off to smoke away from me, and I never said another word about it. Other than the smoking, we got along really well. We communicated effectively, laughed a lot, and genuinely enjoyed each other's company.

This all changed last week when she dropped a bombshell: she needed to smoke regularly without feeling like I was judging her. I pointed out that I never said anything to her about it, and she agreed. But she was clear: smoking was a part of who she was, and she didn't feel I was supportive (which, to be fair, I wasn't). So, that was it. I drove my butt back home.

It's been a week since all this B.S., and I'm still trying to make sense of it. I feel like I was in a no-win situation. Maybe the lesson here is that I shouldn't make compromises on things that are important to me—and it seems smoking counts as one of those. Or maybe I should just keep my mouth shut and accept people for who they are.

Maybe I just need to move on.

Land of (No) Opportunity

The Land of the Majority

I've never really had to struggle with being an outsider. I grew up in a small, rural town, and while we were "dirt poor" at times, I was surrounded by other lower-middle-class white kids just like me. I was always part of the majority.

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A Necessary Move to Idaho

A few months ago, I moved to Idaho for a teaching job. It had been almost four years since I graduated college, and despite a few close calls, I hadn't been able to land a position. When Idaho offered me a job, I packed my meager belongings, left everything I had ever known, and moved to a state I knew nothing about.

What I didn't fully realize was that my new hometown was over 80% Mormon. As an atheist, I honestly didn't care. I believe people are people, and I was ready to move on with my life.

I couldn't have been more wrong.

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The Loneliness of Being an Outlier

The people here are incredibly polite—friendly to a fault, but at a distance. They'll offer help during the workday, but they won't invite you over for dinner. From what I've gathered, once they decide you're not part of their community, you're an outsider. For the first time in my life, I'm the one who isn't the "norm." I do have a few non-LDS friends, but we're the outliers here.

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Putting My Personal Life on Hold

So, how does this relate to dating? My dating pool doesn't exist. When I said that 80% of the population is Mormon, that wasn't a plea for sympathy; it's a U.S. Census statistic. This move was necessary for my career, and I accept that. But it has also forced me to understand a type of loneliness I never truly appreciated before.

I've been alone for most of the decade since my divorce, so I'm comfortable being by myself. I've had a few relationships, but for the most part, I'm used to being single.

 However, living here has made me realize what it's like to be without the opportunity to meet someone. It feels as if I'm advancing my professional life while putting my personal life on hold. After a decade, being alone is starting to feel like a habit, and another year in an environment that only reinforces that feeling absolutely terrifies me.

Reviewing Past Relationships and What Went Wrong (Me?)

The following is a revised version of the text, with improvements to grammar, flow, and clarity.

The Mormon Conundrum

I'll start by saying that Mormons are, in many ways, much better people than I am. They're kind, polite, don't drink, and are generally nice to others. Sure, they have the stigma of "magic underwear," but honestly, if you had to be surrounded by a group of people different from yourself, you could do considerably worse than the Mormon population.

That said, they can be a bit of a drag. When I say "drag," I mean it in the nicest way possible. They don't drink, gamble, swear, or have premarital sex—all things I happen to enjoy. This isn't a problem until you realize you live in a city that has more Mormon residents per capita than Salt Lake City, Utah. For someone like me, who lacks a moral compass and a general sense of right and wrong, the fit just isn't there.

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A Dating Retrospective

So, how does this apply to my dating life? I've had a lot of time on my hands (see above), so I decided to map out my main relationships on a scale of 1 to 10. The scale is as follows: a 1 is someone who is completely and utterly "marriage material" but boring as hell, while a 10 is a crazy train who is a ton of fun but would never meet my mom.

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The Rankings

Destiny: 1/10 It's unfortunate that I was married to her for three years. She wasn't mean, but she also wasn't nice or affectionate. Sex was a chore, as was being married to me. She's married with a kid now, so I assume someone managed to get her drunk enough to make it work once.

Trey: 9/10 Damn, Trey was hot. I'm not, but she somehow decided to sleep with me. She was a dangerous combination of "being hot, not knowing how to have sex, and hating her life." She was also kind of mean, demanding, and not afraid to express how unhappy she was at any given moment. Did I mention she was so hot?

Barb: 4/10 Barb also hated me, and to complicate things, she disclosed an STD early on. That doesn't make her a bad person, though. Honestly, this was soon after my divorce, and I was a complete mess, so I didn't handle it well. She was a nice person. I just wish she hadn't told me about her STD over breadsticks at Olive Garden.

Heidi: 5/10 I never really figured Heidi out. She had kids and liked to have sex with me—and her ex-husband. She was beautiful and fun and continually made it clear that we were just a "thing." I think I was just a thing to her, which sounds nice in theory. I got attached, she bailed, and then she'd pop back in whenever she wanted sex again. After six short months of meaningless sex, I half-heartedly put an end to it. (See? I'm a terrible person.)

Kristen: 6/10 I liked Kristen, but she was really, really dumb—not in a "needs to experience life" kind of way, but more like a "she ate paint chips as a kid" way. Kristen adored me but was too similar to my ex-wife. She didn't have an original thought in her head, did what her parents told her well into her late 20s, and had no ambition. But she was fun, and if I weren't me, it might have worked. But I'm me, and it didn't. She married a 300-pound truck driver and seems happy, and that's not a joke—it's a fact.

Jessica: 8/10 Things got intense fast with Jessica, which I mistook for the real thing. She loved drama and cheating on her husband with me. In a different world and time, it might have worked out with Jessica. (Update: I recently tried again with Jessica and remembered that she majored in drama. When things are exciting and scary, you tend to ignore those red flags. Did I mention I'd probably never trust her?)

Jill: 9/10 Jill got me, which scared the living hell out of me. She was funny, beautiful, and a hell of a lot smarter than I was. I attribute our failure to bad timing and me being an emotional post-divorce disaster. I liked Jill a lot, and my mom would have, too. But Jill moved across the country, and we never spoke again. It was probably for the best.

Shannon: 10/10 Shannon was a badass. Fun, sexy, smart, and she could read me like a book—which absolutely terrified me. I loved Shannon, and she loved me back. We were going to be together. So what happened? I guess I happened. This one still causes a little pain in my stomach. She's married now, and I truly hope she's happy.

The problem with Shannon wasn't her; it was the pathetic guy who writes blog posts ranking his exes.

Match.com Date Review: Tierney

Re-entering the Dating World

For reasons I don't fully understand, I decided to re-up my Match.com membership. I had been feeling a bit down on the site lately, mostly because I hadn't had much success, but I realized I was holding a grudge against them for something that wasn't their fault. So, I decided to cast my line out there and try again.

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A Promising Start

Within the first few days, I began exchanging emails with a woman named T (not Mister...God know we would've gotten along better). We were the same age, had no kids, similar education, and the same sense of humor and religious beliefs. After about a week, we began texting and made plans to meet for drinks. We met last Thursday night, and to my surprise, she looked exactly like her pictures, and conversation came easily! As a veteran of online dating, I know these two attributes on a first date are a rarity.

The night progressed, and everything went well. We laughed and talked about what we would do on our next date. We both had a few drinks, but neither of us was sloppy drunk—just slightly buzzed. As the night ended, I walked her to her car, and she leaned in for a kiss, which promptly turned into a full-blown make-out session. Finally, we pried ourselves apart and called it a night.

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An Unexpected End

We texted on Friday and Saturday, and everything seemed to be going well. But on Sunday, I received a text that said, "I hope this isn't awkward, but I went out on a date with someone else, and it is going to progress. You are a nice guy. Take care."

I know people date multiple people and that things don't always work out when they feel like they should, but I can't explain why this one bothered me as much as it did. Maybe my sense of the entire situation was off, or maybe she regretted kissing me after the date. Who knows.

All I know is this: I understand less about the dating world at 32 than at any other time in my life. And really, I don't need to understand everything. I just want to know how to make it work. More than anything, I'm just tired of the dating carousel. I'd like to get off now, please.

Match.com: The Log-in Game

As a seasoned veteran of the Match.com scene, I've learned many tough lessons: the over-sharers, the profile pictures from ten years ago, and even the etiquette for a one-night stand (always offer breakfast—I'm old-fashioned like that).

But a new lesson has recently caught my attention: The Login Game. Let me explain.

You're seeing someone and you've hit that awkward in-between zone (dates four through six). You're having fun and you don't want to date anyone else, but neither of you has brought up being exclusive—likely out of fear of making things weird. With this paranoia in full swing, you occasionally log in to Match.com, click on her profile, and see that she was online within the last hour. Hmm.

From here, there are a few options:

• The Douche Move: "I saw you've been on Match. What's up? Are you talking to other guys?" This works well for the insecure clowns, but it's not my style.

• The Cool Guy Move: "So, um, we're cool and all, but are we cool?" This isn't a terrible approach, but eye contact and tone are key. She'll either know you're asking about your relationship status or assume you're trying to buy weed.

• The No Move: Just don't say anything.

I don't have an answer to this one yet...but wait.

What if she's logging on to see if I'm logging on?

Whoa, man. That's deep. Maybe I should see if she's selling that weed after all.

Fake numbers, no responses, and other shit these lesbians are pulling...

I once wrote a blog post called "The Stink of Failure," but it had little to do with failing. It was really about trying new things, having guts, and making a change. After recently becoming single again, I've been taking my own advice, and most things have worked out pretty well. 

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Confusing Signals

The results of online dating have sucked so far. First, there was a girl we'll call Katie. We exchanged texts and emails and finally met for coffee. The date went really well—we talked, laughed, and had plenty to say for over two hours. At the end, we hugged, and she said, “Let’s do something again; I had fun. Text me that you got home safe.”

Like a fool, I did exactly that. I texted her that I made it home safely, had fun, and looked forward to hanging out again. Her response? I’m still waiting. Thanks to iMessage and the “read message” notification, I know she saw it. That was five days ago.

A few days later, I met some friends for a few beers. A girl at a neighboring booth struck up a conversation with me. With a little alcohol in my system, I was funnier and definitely more attractive than usual. As we all prepared to leave, I asked for her number. She smiled, wrote it down, and said, “That sounds like fun.”

Two days later, I called and got the voicemail for a guy who works for Consumers Energy. I double-checked the handwriting and my dialing—it was a fake number.

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What the Hell Is Going On?

So here’s my question: What in the blue hell is going on?

To the first girl: It’s fine if you're not interested, but don’t give confusing signals. I get not wanting to reject someone to their face, but a better option is not to say anything other than “Thank you,” and I will get the hint.

To the second girl: I had three beers but was by no means hammered. Is a fake number really better than saying you have a boyfriend? Or, even easier, just don't initiate the conversation in the first place.

The obvious issue here is that all these goddamn lesbians are leading on the straight men. Go play some softball and knock that shit off.

The Date That Made Me Question All My Life Choices

I recently re-joined Match.com and started chatting with Sabrina. She was attractive, had a great job, and claimed to have an amazing sense of humor, so we made plans to get drinks. I walked in the door at 5:54 p.m.—a detail that will become important later.

When we met, she actually looked like her pictures, which was a refreshing change. But then something odd happened. I asked her about her Easter dinner, and she replied with three words: "It was fine." Okay, so I asked if she'd done anything fun with her family over the weekend. "Not really."

This went on for the next half hour. I’d ask an open-ended question and receive a one-to-five-word response, followed by silence. I didn't even get the unimaginative follow-up question, "What about you?" It seemed like even "You?" was too much to ask.

After about 20 minutes of this, she finally offered, "I don't have much to say sometimes." No kidding, Socrates. I asked her if she wanted another drink, and she literally just shrugged her shoulders, unable to utter a syllable. I took that as my cue, called for the check, paid it like a chump, and mercifully, the date ended.I got back to my car at 6:32 p.m.

The lesson: If you're on a terrible date with someone you know you'll never see again, and she offers to split the check, don't be a hero—just split the check.

How to Talk to Women: A Field Guide for the Socially Awkward

This post is a straightforward guide on how to approach and talk to women, based on personal experience. The author's perspective is built on two key realizations: getting older and "not giving a fuck." This shift in mindset changed a self-defeating thought process that once prevented any attempt at conversation.

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Key Takeaways & Actionable Advice

1. Practice, Practice, Practice

• The Goal: Not to get a date, but to simply start a conversation.

• The Method: Spend one day talking to five attractive women.

• Example: See a woman in a grocery store? Make a simple comment about a product, even if it's a "small white lie."

• Likely Outcome: 98% chance she smiles, says thanks, and moves on. The more you do it, the easier it gets.

2. The "Magic" Pickup Line

• Simple is Best: The most effective "pickup line" is "Hi" and a smile.

• What to Say Next: Have a relevant, non-offensive follow-up comment ready.

• Handling Rejection: If you get a blank stare or rude response, just smile, take a deep breath, and move on. You've dodged a bullet.

3. The Worst-Case Scenario

• The Experience: The author recounts a woman who told him she didn't date "bigger" guys.

• The Lesson: This type of cruel feedback is a reflection of her character, not your worth. Realize "what a bitch" she was and move on.

4. Give a Little "Shit"

• Be Playful: Be polite and nice, but don't be afraid to poke fun.

• Example: If she disagrees with you, jokingly say, "Thanks for screaming at me."

• Why it Works: This can put her on the defensive in a playful way, continuing the conversation. If she flips out, you just saved yourself from dating someone who's "uptight."

5. If She's Not Interested, Move On

• It's Not Personal: If you get a "no," or she blows you off, just move on.

• Perspective: You likely won't see this person again, so there’s no harm in trying. (Unless she's a co-worker or boss—in that case, tread lightly).

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Final Thought:

If you never try, you've already lost. The worst that can happen is you get some practice, maybe make a friend, and flatter someone. Life is short, so don't live with the regret of not saying "Hi."

Why "Perfect on Paper" Doesn't Work

My friend is a stand-up guy—a successful man who works hard for his family. On paper, he hit the jackpot with his wife: she's beautiful and comes from a wealthy family. It all makes perfect sense, like a financial statement written in cursive. Yet, watching him, it's clear that life isn't a spreadsheet.

I recently found myself in a similar boat. I met a woman who, on paper, was a slam dunk: low-drama, attractive, kind, and considerate. She had everything I thought I wanted, but for some reason, the chemistry just wasn't there. At 31, I felt the pressure to "buy in" and settle down, but no amount of mental gymnastics could make it work.

In the past, I’ve definitely been a victim of "good enough." I stayed in relationships that weren’t making me happy just because an attractive woman was interested. As a friend once wisely put it, "You start ignoring red flags, and one day you look down and you're standing on a huge pile."

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The Blame Game and the "Spark"

So, why do we stay in these situations? And why do we blame ourselves when a seemingly perfect relationship fails? I felt guilty that I didn't like my ex as much as she liked me. I've been ruined by the few times I've felt that unmistakable "spark"—that lightning-bolt moment when you meet someone and everything just clicks. Your heart races, you blush, and you start fantasizing about a future that includes this new person.

But when that spark is missing, we often fall back on old habits. We get lonely and question our own worth, thinking, "Why would anyone else love me?" We go back to bad relationships, conveniently forgetting the pain and romanticizing the good times. We choose the wrong people because we know they'll accept us, even if it means more pain down the road. We basically go back for seconds and ask, "Thank you, sir, may I have another?"

The bottom line is this: If the spark isn't there, don't cling to the hope that it will magically appear. You owe it to yourself to believe you're worthy of a relationship that ignites your fire and brings out the best in you. It can be a lonely road, but you deserve more than settling for "good enough." You deserve to be decent to yourself.

Review: OkCupid.com (I'm going to hell...)

Dating Site Debacles: A Look at OkCupid

Based on my site's traffic, it seems people only care when I write about other dating sites and porn. (On a side note, apparently, I’m a big deal in Turkey. So to Turkey, I say, “How ya doin’? Way to be Muslim without being jerks about holding women back. And democracy—not bad, right?”)

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My Review of OkCupid

This isn't my first time on this site. A few years ago, I used it and met a woman. By "met," I mean she said hi and immediately started sending me naked pictures. I’ll be honest, up until that point, I wasn't sure women like her actually existed. We eventually agreed to meet for coffee on a Sunday morning. Within an hour, we were headed back to my place for some sexual relations. And within an hour of that, she was on her way home. We never spoke again. Weird? For sure. Random? Absolutely. Cool? Kinda, but it’s definitely in my Top Five Weirdest Moments Ever (along with the time I accidentally touched SpongeBob SquarePants inappropriately and a night in Vegas that involved three different continents).

Since Match.com costs money and I'm currently unemployed (thanks for nothing, college degree), I decided to check out the free options. I’ll give OkCupid this: it's not PlentyOfFish.com (more on that in a later post). OkCupid has you set up a standard profile with a picture and asks you a series of questions. After you answer 25 of them, the site generates a compatibility percentage for you and gives you three matches, which they call The Quiver. As you answer more questions, the site reveals how compatible you are with each person, which is a pretty cool feature.

What the site also tells you are the chances that your match will reply to your message. In short, welcome back to middle school, motherfucker. You can read a profile, like someone, but then see that they are "VERY selective about who they respond to." Well, my confidence was sky-high until I read that nonsense. So, whether I like it or not, I have to factor that into my decision before messaging anyone.

And here’s where things get weird: I see a girl I went to high school with. That in itself isn’t very interesting—until I remember she's the girl my buddy, Mike, lost his virginity to. Suddenly, my mind, which has been battered by years of poor decisions and alcohol, remembers every damn detail of them having sex. She liked sex in public. She liked sex often. In short: she liked to hump. A lot. At 31 years old, I should be able to think about something other than that, right? Nope. I eventually decide not to message her because I heard Mike has warts on his ding-dong. Is it true? Were they from her? Does Mike like Asian hookers? I couldn't find the answers, so I decided to move on.

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Final Thoughts

The site seems okay, but I have no idea if it produces any results other than random coffee shop hookups.

You’re probably thinking, “Wow, this is a pretty shitty review... It seems like nothing more than an excuse to tell a story about some random sex you had and to talk about a girl from high school.”

Hi, have we met?

Stir events by Match.com - Part Three: This is starting to get sad

Another Trip to the Wilderness

For reasons I'm still trying to understand, I made a third trip into the wilderness that is a Match.com Stir event. If you're new to my exploits in this arena, you can find my previous posts there. To summarize my first two outings:

• First time: I met up with a friend's girlfriend who was not acting like she had a boyfriend.

• Second time: I came with the friend whose now ex-girlfriend was there the last time. I met someone, but after three months, the relationship ended. Why, you ask? She didn't read well, or at all really. She shared intimate details of our sex life with her entire family (mom, dad, three sisters). And when we had a disagreement once (not a fight, just a calm discussion), she responded by curling up into a ball and sobbing uncontrollably for an hour.

So, the other night was my third trip to Stir. This time, I decided to fly solo. My buddy has found himself a girlfriend, and I couldn't beg anyone else to come with me—you know, I had options and whatnot. Now a veteran of these events, I left with many observations.

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Observations From a Stir Veteran

• Drunk girl: I saw her dancing alone again. She's made appearances at the other events, always completely drunk by the time things start and hitting on every guy there. The weird thing? She's very attractive. I couldn't tell you if she was smart because she slurred her words like a stroke victim. Either way, I'm glad she was there.

• 40-year-old dude in a baseball cap: Listen, Billy Jack, everyone knows you're bald. It's cool. You're fooling no one with the hat. Either shave your head or take the goddamn hat off.

• The husky Indian chick (convenience store, not casino): Last time I was there, I made every attempt to escape her, and she actually asked me, "Why did we never hang out?" The reason why doesn't matter; your being a glutton for punishment is what fascinates me. Do you remember being dismissive of what I did for a living? Or telling me that dumb people watch TV after I told you I loved TV? You fall into one of two categories: a liar or stupid. Which is it?

• People who can't take a hint: Luckily, I learned early on when women weren't interested in me. (Okay, it was in 7th and 8th-grade dances, and the fact that any girl, let alone a mildly attractive one, caused me to have a boner hard enough to cut glass. Looking back, yeah, that was probably a factor.) But I watched men and women continue to bombard the opposite sex with questions when that person was making it painfully obvious they weren't interested. I commend persistence, even if I don't understand it, but it's respectable. Either way, raise your self-awareness a bit and move on.

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Final Thoughts

My night ended with no real prospects on the horizon, but I did get a blog post out of it. More importantly, I'm curious to hear about the experiences others have had at these events. Leave a comment and go wild; spare no embarrassing details.

Note: It will show that I have to approve all comments now because some ass-clown keeps posting spam ads for boner pills on everything I put up. To this person, who speaks English as well as a Vietnamese hooker: I hope your grandmother is attacked by an AIDS-infested wolverine, you pathetic shit.

I'm me (and other reasons I'm an ass)

Ending a relationship is the fastest way to get a brutally honest performance review. Suddenly, your ex is happy to reveal every flaw they ever saw in you. A few pounds? You're a "fat ass." A little sarcastic? You're "dead inside."

(And honestly, she wasn't wrong. Maybe I underestimated her intelligence.)

So, what was the big takeaway from all this? I learned that knowing when a relationship is wrong is just as crucial as knowing when it's right. As a 31-year-old who's emotionally 14, my life advice is usually suspect, but I'm solid on this one.

As for my ex, I genuinely couldn't find a single bad thing to say. Sure, she bleached her hair a lot and wasn't much of a reader, but she was a genuinely sweet and caring person. For some unbiased insight, I turned to the person who knows me best: my mom.

(And by "unbiased," I mean if I used a soup ladle to wipe out an entire nursing home next week, she'd be the first person in the visiting room.)

My mom's professional opinion? "Well, you're a person who needs...space. And you need a person who doesn't need your input. I mean, you're going to give your input, but that person shouldn't care what you have to say."

And that's from the woman who gave birth to me.

After several months in a serious relationship, I can't claim to know what a great relationship looks like, but I now know exactly what it doesn't.

Most importantly, my mom said I'm Ron Jeremy handsome.

I Went to Another Match.com Event So You Don't Have To

Match.com's "Stir" events are always an adventure. After a messy encounter with my friend's girlfriend at the last one, I was hesitant to go back. Luckily, that drama meant my friend was now newly single, and I had the perfect wingman for round two.

A Night of Horrors (and Humor)

Going in with a friend makes these events so much easier. We headed to a Grand Rapids bar, grabbed some beers, and took in the scene. Just like the last time, it was a 50/50 split of men and women, with people of all ages. My buddy, a 6'5" dude in his early 40s, would soon discover his height attracts a very... special kind of woman.

It wasn't long before we were approached by a dynamic duo: Amanda, 34, and Marie, 51. While Amanda's body was a bit… uniquely shaped, Marie was rail-thin and a self-proclaimed "huge fan" of tall guys. After ten minutes of polite chatter, Marie looked at my friend and, completely straight-faced, asked, "I bet I could climb you, mind if I try?" The silence was deafening. My friend and I just stared at each other, trying to process if we had just heard what we thought we heard. Note to self: know when to pull the ripcord and make a swift exit.

---

After an unceremonious escape from the world's worst morning radio show duo, we were immediately cornered by a group of five insurance agents. This crew was mostly forgettable, save for Sandy, a short, stout, and aggressive woman who put me through a rapid-fire interview: "Where do you work? What do you read? Do you travel?" She would then answer her own questions, immediately followed by her unfiltered opinion. "Do you watch TV? I think TV is for dumb people. Successful people climbing the corporate ladder don't watch TV." When I admitted my love for television, she actually responded, "So you don't want to be successful?"

At that point, I knew I had to make a move. You can insult me, but don't you dare besmirch the good name of television.

---

I literally turned my back on Sandy, not knowing what or who was behind me. That's when I met Kristen. She was cute, funny, and — best of all — a fellow Detroit Tigers fan. We started talking, and the conversation just flowed. She asked questions and listened to the answers. Whatever "it" is, we had it.

Meanwhile, my poor friend was still trapped in the circle of insurance agents, fighting for his life. He eventually learned the last great lesson of a Match Stir event: don't be afraid to politely cut bait.

The night ended on a high note when Kristen gave me her number. We've been hanging out ever since. We laugh at the same things and have the same laid-back attitude. Our tastes in music are a bit of a train wreck, but everything else is going great.

So, if you're thinking about a Match event, go for it. Just know you'll meet all kinds of people: the good, the bad, and the climbers.

Stir Events by Match.com: It's like online dating, but with shittier Wi-Fi

I went to a singles event in a quest for love—or at least, a good blog post. The night started with all the usual suspects: drunk college kids, a pack of women who looked like they were on a mission, and a hilarious moment I'm still not over involving two wheelchairs. Everything was going great until I came face-to-face with the last person I ever expected to see. What happened next wasn't just awkward; it was a full-blown dating disaster.

The concept was simple: Match.com rents out a room at a nice bar, fills it with single people, and gets them a bit tipsy.

When I arrived, I was relieved to see the room wasn’t a total sausage fest. My “7th Grade Dance” theory was debunked—everyone was already mingling.

The Highlights Reel:

• My favorite moment: A woman asked a guy in a wheelchair, "Are you two here together?" while he was on the opposite side of the room. Pure comedy.

• The crowd: A normal collection of drunk college kids, a pack of women who seemed to be conducting interviews, and everyone else who was already well on their way to being shit-house drunk.

• The Strategy: I just went up and talked to women directly. Knowing they were single was a huge confidence boost. If a conversation died, it was easy to just move on to the next person.

Then came the unfortunate twist. I saw my friend’s girlfriend. She made it clear she didn't remember me and said she was there to meet "new guys."

Fuck.

I texted my friend:

Me: "I'm at a singles event, and your lady is here."

Him: "Tell her I said hi."

After a quick bathroom break, I found her again.

"Hey, I know you," I said. "I'm Joe…"

She remembered me instantly. After a few expletives, she stammered, "You aren't going to tell him, are you?"

I said nothing.

"I'm just here for moral support," she offered.

(I stare blankly...ok, I blinked some probably)

"I told him I was in Grand Rapids," she tried. "I just didn't say why…"

I looked her straight in the eye and said, "You're cooked."

I paid my tab and left. I didn’t find love, but I did a solid for a friend. All in all, a success.

I hope the wheelchair people ended up rubbing wheels tonight.

The Art of the Setup

Sometimes you write because you have something important to say. Other times, you write simply because you feel you have something informative or entertaining to share.

I've written before about some of the failed attempts friends have made to set me up with others. From a male perspective, these setups fall into one of three categories:

1. The Buddy Setup

Ninety-nine percent of the time, this is about one of your friends trying to set you up with a girl who either rejected his own advances or is a friend of a girl he's trying to sleep with. In the latter case, he knows you can be an asset to him getting some action. These setups are great for most guys because your brains work in a similar way—you like to have sex, and you really like women who enjoy drinking and taking off their shirts. Everyone wins. And even if the setup fails, you still "win" because your buddy understands the entire purpose of the arrangement was to help his friend get laid.

2. The Couple Setup

This one happens a lot and actually happened to me recently. I have a friend I'll call DJ (because that's his real name, but you'll have to pay me more than $23 for his address and Social Security number). He sent me a text tonight asking if I was single and if I'd be interested in meeting his wife's sister. I've known DJ since middle school, and I love him dearly. We played high school football together, and I've seen him naked more times than I can count. That said, we don't talk often. We'll offer each other trades in fantasy football, but we don't just chat to say hi, and we're both okay with this arrangement.

So, did DJ suddenly start caring about my dating life? Hell no. But you know what he does care about? His wife sleeping with him this week. So when she asked him if he had any single friends to date her sister, he suddenly started caring a whole lot. And I don't blame him; I'd do the same thing. Sure, it could get sticky if things don't work out, which means any exit would have to be graceful, but DJ is my boy, and I'll take one for his team so he can get laid. This kind of setup is appreciated, but we all know the real motivation behind it.

3. The Crazy Setup

This happens with people who think they know you but really don't, or people who know you but have extraordinarily poor judgment. My friend John's wife, Connee, wanted to set me up with her coworker, Amy. Aside from the fact that Amy had zero personality, was morbidly obese, and never made eye contact, it would have been perfect. Connee's rationale was, "Amy is single, Joe is single...it might work!" I love Connee dearly; she is a good friend, but this setup proves women can be delusional. At no point did she consider my personality, my likes or dislikes, or the fact that we had nothing in common.

(A quick side story: Part of her thinking was that I'm athletic and so is Amy, and she specifically mentioned that Amy loved to skydive. Standing at the edge of a plane at 10,000 feet, leaning forward, and letting gravity do the work doesn't make you athletic. Actually, it means you're lazy as hell. But I digress...)

Here's the thing: Connee meant well. She saw two single people and wanted to get them together. Her heart was in the right place, but sadly, it was nowhere near logic. These setups are always well-intentioned but poorly executed.

The lesson? Start including a line item for "escorts" in your monthly budget.

Unfortunate Things Women Have Said to Me (Naked or Otherwise)

This list took up my entire workday. It's a collection of quotes from first dates and one-night stands. 

(The distinction will be abundantly clear.)

• "Can you finish soon? I really need to smoke." — See, Debbie liked to smoke. A lot. As it turns out, she liked smoking more than she liked me.

• "My mom is a serious cunt." — Hey, weirdo, I happen to like my mom. This was 29 minutes into our first date.

• "Well, I have enough credits for a degree, which is exactly the same as having a degree." — Umm, no, it isn't. And those pictures you posted were wildly misleading.

• "We can go back to my place, but we need to be really quiet because my kids are sleeping." — Boner Killer 101. I have no issues with you having children, but the fact that you're letting some drunk asshole (me) into your home to have sex while they are asleep is revolting. Pass.

• "You'll need to pick me up for the date because I can't drive... umm, because of the seizures." — That was three years ago, and I'm still not sure how to respond. I did pick her up, and we had an awful time. On the bright side, she didn't shake uncontrollably on the ground and shit her pants, which was nice.

• "You and I can go see my church counselor and talk about how we can grow together." — This was the first date! I used to be bothered by this but maybe she was smarter than the rest...

• "I would let you come in, and we would have fun, but I haven't shaved in a while." — And here was my cogent, rational response: "And.............?"

• "Could you finish soon? I have an exam to take in 45 minutes." — It was a community college. She failed the exam, blamed me...we never spoke or humped again.

• "We aren't divorced yet, but I'm sure we will file soon, so this isn't really cheating." — I didn't. I really wanted to—I mean, really wanted to—but I did not.

AND FINALLY...

• She asked me about my sex life, and I, for some reason, decided to be a gentleman and ask her back. In what felt like a scene from a snuff film, she replied,

"Two days ago, with a guy I met on Craigslist."