Or, more accurately, my worst punctuation nightmare.

Is that a great big penis in your right pocket or are you just happy to see me?

I had lunch with a 32 year old, super cute, single gal yesterday.  I was talking about dating in the 21st century and just how easy it was to get ghosted.  You’re talking, talking, talking and then poof!  They’re gone.  Hell it could even be dating, dating, dating and then poof!  They’re gone.  She said there’s another term out there called orbiting.  It’s when a guy is just orbiting around you, not super engaged, but feels the need to reach out and send a what’s up text every so often.

I have an orbiter right now. It’s not this guy, but I will most definitely horn if I’m honkey.

Trying to figure out if it’s a red flag or a pink flag that one of my bumble suitors has a habit of spitting on me when he talks. He also says “supposebly” instead of supposedly. That’s an easy fix, right? At what point can you correct someone? Can you really change someone that says supposebly? Am I okay with spittle spraying my face when we’re taking?

Irregardless, for all intensive purposes, supposebly when we conversate over sherbert it could just be a mute point.

An update – I turned my public bumble profile off a few weeks ago. I had been sidetracked by a regular bumbler. (See above, now known as “The Spitter” and he’s not Mr. Viagra.) He’s still around and just pulled the old leave behind.

Those aren’t my shoes. (He didn’t leave shoeless, he changed for work into another pair. Although if he did leave shoeless, that would be the most obvious and intentional leave behind ever! lol) Could shoes be a gateway leave behind? What’s next – a toothbrush? “Imma just leave a toothbrush here.” A drawer? What happens if he decides to have a where is this thing going conversation? (I drunkenly did that with my favorite bumblee a while back. That’s a good way to get ghosted.)

Irregardless, I turned my profile back on yesterday. Subconsciously I must be telling myself that spitting and supposebly are not okay with me.

You know you’re dating in your mid 40’s and not your mid 20’s when your bumbler leaves after a sleepover and you find this on your bedroom floor the next day:

What could it be? I’ll tell you what it was. It was the goddamn Elisabeth Kubler Ross 5 stages of grief: Denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. It is officially the viagra years.

The so called “little blue pill” a’int so little, people, which makes me give huge props to the marketing people at Pfizer. Laying the groundwork that little is actually big on so many levels. I get it. Mother fucking marketing geniuses.

I’ve owed all ya’ll a post for quite some time and I realize that.  Gone into a bit of hiding as it has been more stumble than bumble.  You know what the worst two feelings in the world are?  Grief and vulnerability.  I thought I’d try on vulnerability for a minute.  I mean, all of the other girls are doing it, right?  Not a good look for me.

Yesterday, driving home from work, I painfully longed for my family.  Physical pain.  I wanted to be driving home to my husband and my children, all intact.  But the family I longed for wasn’t the one that is no more – I thought about Steve, Sasse Way and knew that definitely was not the family that I longed for.  I miss family.  And I really struggled yesterday.  And I know there will be days like that.  I chose this.  And through tears and gut wrenching pain, I will always know that I did the right thing.

I’m trying to figure out if dating in my 20’s was similar in that it seems like we’re all just placeholders for each other.  I’ve been a placeholder for the past few months for a bumblee.  I didn’t realize it until just recently.  Good news, lesson learned –  I don’t like being a placeholder.  Not a good feeling.  Almost like I’ve been had.  And that’s what happens when you allow yourself to be vulnerable.  The bad news, I have a placeholder right now.  And I’m going to end up making him feel the way I feel right now.

Contrary to popular belief, the tongue is not the strongest muscle in the body. But you know what is strong??? When you program yourself in someone’s phone as First Name “The Tongue” Last name. I can’t shake Jack!

He picked up the phone and actually called me on Sunday morning asking me to go to coffee. I made a lame excuse and texted him this later:

And then…

Then we had a few exchanges about my kids, where we work, etc. As it turns out, his company works with mine and we’re getting audited. So this:

And he actually FaceTimed me. This 26 year old little nugget FaceTimed me.

I think I’m going to keep this one around for a minute. I found a nice little corner in my stable for him.

Thanks to Shannon, a former online dater who sent me this and also appreciates punctuation.