Observations from the Interwebz Dating Scene 2012

Oy, vey!

It's been a few years since I've been on an online dating site.

While some things are the same (including some of the members), it's quite a different world.

Take for example, the MILF profile picture (see above left). This did not exist when I was last trying to find true love through the interwebz.

I found it this week (The MILF pic, not true love). And it changed my life.

And my own dating profile pic (see below right).

If you don't know what a MILF is, or my responding DILF pic, well, it's ok. Just let it go (this means you mom and dad).

If you do know what a MILF is, you'll realize that it's a bit of a shock to see a woman advertise this fact on her dating profile pic.

But hey, I'm pretty sure the DILF pic is going to win me points with JUST the type of woman that will make for interesting future blog entries. So I see it as a win-win.

Another thing changed. Apparently there are a lot more men out there who are unemployed, have no car, and live in their parents' basement.

Because EVERY single profile for women has the following verbiage: "If you are unemployed, have no car, and live in your parents' basement, DO NOT CONTACT ME!"

So I added it to my profile.

I'm picturing some woman who is unemployed, has no car, and lives in her parents' basement reading my profile, falling madly in love, then seeing that last line in my profile and realizing her dreams have been shattered.

Also, I'm astonished at the rise of cleavage pics as the main profile.

For the record, I wrote "astonished," not "offended." I approve of this change.

I'm also seeing far fewer profile pictures that include a shot with the woman and her pet, or just her pet alone.

I applaud the single online dating women of the world for learning that a guy isn't there to date your pet. How about you let them meet your stinky ferret in person to decide if it's ok with them?

And another odd change. Significantly more single women love to get on the open road and get their motorcycle chubby on. Which I fully applaud. That's awesome, truly.

But I can't ever see myself dating a woman with a hog. Mostly because since I don't have one, I know I'll probably have to wear the "I'm The Bitch That Fell Off The Back Of The Bike" t-shirt.

All kidding aside, the biggest change this time around has been that the women are much more aggressive than even just a few years ago.

It used to be weeks would go by without anyone contacting me. Meanwhile, most women will tell you they are constantly bombarded with emails from creepy, horny men. I always hope they don't include me in that group when they talk about them. But they probably do.

But now, for some reason, many more women are making the initial contact. And on a much more frequent basis. I haven't even really settled back in, and I'm finding myself poked and prodded. Wait, what?

Oh WAIT, I know the reason they're contacting me now!

It's because unlike a few years ago...I'm not unemployed, without a car, wondering if I'd have to move into my parents' basement.

Sunrise, Sunset.

It really could have been so awkward. A vacation to San Diego with the Now Ex-Lady Friend®.

Over the last year and a half, we had been on again/off again, but last month we became full-blown off again.

But by then the trip to sunny San Diego had already been booked.

I could have canceled it. But I didn't.

I truthfully was a little worried the trip would be full of odd moments and strange silence.

Enter Comet and Sparky™. Comet™ was to be our host in San Diego. He is my lost twin. My brother from another mother. My dream bromance guy.

And I had never actually met him in person before this week (I'll explain that soon).

Comet™ had dated Sparky™ during most of 2010.

Sparky™ and I went to college together. She is one of the most brilliant people I know, whether she's writing, performing in a play, or simply having a conversation sitting around a kitchen table. And I consider her to be one of my dearest friends on this planet, even though we haven't seen each other for nearly 20 years.

The Comet and Sparky™ fireworks were amazing to watch from afar.

Somehow they managed to make a cross-country relationship work - Comet™ in San Diego, and Sparky™ in Massachusetts.

And not only did they make it work, they made it awesome.

The smiles on their faces said it all when they were together. Best Friends. Lovers. All those things I have heard they cover on the Lifetime Network.

And then something happened. In Iceland. (No, really, it was in Iceland).

The Comet and Sparky™ Show was canceled.

And then the whole interwebz haz a sad.

Fast forward to the San Diego trip with the Now Ex-Lady Friend®.

When Comet™ learned I was heading his way, he offered up his home as a place to stay, and his time as a tour guide.

Comet™ and I had gotten to know each other even more this past year, when he was going through the very. effing. difficult. time. I told him that he could call me anytime he needed to vent, get each other to laugh, or share a cry to Adele's Someone Like You. As I said earlier, true bromance.

So I didn't bat an eye at letting someone I'd never met in person offer up shelter and limousine service, and accepting. Thankfully I waited until we were on the plane to tell Now Ex-Lady Friend® that I had never met Comet™ before.

About a week before the trip, Sparky™ had caught wind that I'd be staying with Comet™ on the trip. Comet and Sparky™ had not talked in over a year. I was more than a little leery of how she would react to the news.

"He will be such a good host to you! You'll have so much fun," she wrote on my Facebook wall.

Ssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss...

A few days later... "Now I'm going to have to become Facebook friends with Comet™ again so I don't miss out on the fun you guys will have!"

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss...

The next day..."I SOOOOO wish I was there to be the official photojournalist for this epic meeting."

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss...

My reply to her: "Sparky™, just grab your camera and hop on a plane. Problem solved."

Sssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss...

The next day the flight was booked for Sparky™ to come to San Diego.

BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM.

The last four days were amazing to watch them reconnect and realize what everyone around them had already seen. Neither one of them was as happy in their lives as when they were together.

The weekend turned from what I feared would originally be "This was not a good idea," to "LO-EFFING L."

I ate some incredible food, drank some downright orgasmic beers, and saw some amazing things in San Diego.

But my favorite memories will be the four of us sitting around the table, telling our stories about life as a divorced parent, our exes, how difficult relationships are, but most of all laughing and smiling like I haven't for literally years.

Now Ex-Lady Friend® and I got to have a nice time away from the winter weather of Iowa and Minnesota, and we both enjoyed the distraction of watching as the Comet and Sparky™ Show came back on the air.

Four people going in very different directions, enjoying great times together in paradise.

As I watched the sunset from the Hotel Del Coronado, I couldn't help but wonder if the sun wasn't rising in Reykjavik.

Afraid to Blink

I'm afraid to blink.

Because I swear in just a few blinks my sons have gone from cute, pudgy little toddlers to handsome almost-men.

From mini-me's to better looking versions of almost-me's.

Just yesterday they were asking me to make them a snack and if they could watch Barney again. (Hell no. not again!)

And tonight, well, I sit here alone, originally planning to have a pizza and movie night with them.

Gman, my feisty little red-headed Irishman, is having a sleepover at his best buddy's house.

And Nile, my not quite 14-year-old who stands 5'10, is at the movies with a group of his friends.

And it is dawning on me that my life is about to change dramatically.

Since becoming a single dad over five years ago, my relationship has gotten so much better with both of them.

I think having them half time, it has made me appreciate the time I do have with them much more than when there were two of us parents there to share the load and entertain the troops.

And they also have learned a lot through my struggles and mistakes in that time to know that I'm not going to be scared by anything they need to talk about with me.

That's the good part.

They both know they can talk to me about anything. And they do.

But I'm prepared for that to change.

I'm as frightened heading into the world of two teenage boys as I was when I had to change Nile's first diaper.

They'll be out there. In that scary world. The one I didn't grow up in.

The following paragraph should be read in an angry old man voice:

When I was a kid, we didn't have the interwebz, or cell phones or iPads to help us get into trouble. We were lucky if our parents let us use the house phone for more than five minutes! And did I mention we only had four TV channels?

Now, I'm no Luddite, mind you. The same technology that can get them into trouble also serves as a way for that good communication to work from afar.

Essentially I'm being demoted in importance in their lives. It happens. They'll be back in about 10 years telling me how damn smart I was.

I'm just beginning to prepare for this role change.

I'll be steering their ships less, but thanks to modern technology, they'll be able to send me an SOS if they need me to navigate their way.

I'm just thankful that so far it's been fairly smooth sailing with Nile. Because Gman is going to make life feel like a Nor'easter as he becomes a teenager, I do believe.

But you know, I became an awesome diaper changer by the time I retired.

So I figure the only thing I can do is trust my gut, talk with them as much as they'll let me.

And spend even more time sitting at home alone, wondering what they're doing.

Let It All Hang Out

"I'm so wired-up
Don't need no coffee in my cup
Let it all hang out."

_ Van Morrison

I'm pretty sure that my mom and dad have a love/hate relationship with my blog.

Or maybe hate/love.

Either way, I'm sure there are times when they read this blog and have a hint of pride.

Pride that somehow their youngest kid who couldn't figure out how to tie his shoes or button his pants by kindergarten has found a way to use words to make other people laugh. Or think. Or say "there's five minutes of my life I'll never get back."

But for every small bit of pride mom and dad might feel, it's quickly eradicated by the shame of my bluntness.

"Why do you have to write about hickeys and tongue rings?"

"Do you have to use profanity in every one?"

"Your mother wasn't real happy about the latest one you wrote."

I'd say the most awkward conversation I had with my parents surrounding this blog was the Parking Lot Date. And I explicitly put a warning for them not to read it.

"I know what you meant when you said it rhymed with 'palatial'"

The point is, there are many others in my life, like my parents, who sometimes think I put a little bit too much of myself out there on the Interwebz.

Whether it's through this blog, or on Facebook, or a Hawkeye message board here and there, I plead guilty to pretty much putting my entire life out there.

The highs and the lows. The insane date stories and the sappy man moments.

I'll talk about poop and I'll talk about boobs. Deal with it.

Why am I willing to do this on a blog, or on Facebook, to the shame of my loved ones?

Maybe it's because of who I am as a person in real life.

I've had more than my fair share of "Today Could Be Your Last Day On Earth" moments in my middle-aged life.

And as each day passes where I wake up and I'm not dead, the more I vow to just live my life as naked as possible. Not literally. Hope I didn't startle you.

Live deliberately. With meaning. And passion. And as yourself.

So, in summary, for you tech nerds out there:

WYSIWYG.

And for you non tech nerds:

"I am what I am." _ Popeye.

Life's not a dress rehearsal. This is our one shot.

So you may as well just let it all hang out.

Snowless in St. Paul

It's January 12.

And there's no snow on the ground in the Tundra.

This leads to some pissed off people in these parts.

Fisherman who are used to being out in their ice houses drinking Grainbelts are instead stuck at home on the couch drinking Grainbelts.

Soccer moms who are used to escaping their daily stress of work/kids/home through cross country skiing on the many beautifully groomed trails are instead escaping to the gym and working out on the treadmill.

Guys who would be heading out to hit the lakes and woods "up nort" on their sleds (snowmobiles to the non-Tundra people) are instead riding their bikes (motorcycle to the non-hipster people) around the lakes in the woods "up nort."

Hockeyheads who typically would be out on the many lakes playing pond hockey are instead forced to pay big money for ice time at the many indoor rinks to play old-time hockey.

And C_O's of companies all over Eden Prairie are upset that their golf trips to southern Florida or Mexico are looking less hipster now that golf courses throughout Minnesota are open.

Yep. There's a lot of pissy peeps in the state of Minnesnowta.

But not this guy.

I'm happy as hell, even with the 13 degree temperature as I drove home tonight, to not have to fend with snow and ice on my daily commute.

Chalk it up to when I rolled my car roughly a year ago, during a light snowfall.

And the fact that snow/ice usually doubles or triples my commute time.

After last winter, which ended up in the top 5 of all time for snowfall in the Twin Cities since they started keeping records, I will take a brown Winter.

You know it's a bad Winter when the people who were BORN in Minnesota complained. "Oh this is even a bit much for me, youbetcha!"

That was SO last Winter.

So excuse me if I don't shed a tear for the snow-loving freaks I call my neighbors THIS Winter.

If the current temperatures of 30 and below disappear in a week, and don't return, I'll do my happy dance.

Hell, in fact I enjoy it so much, I'm encouraging everyone I know to buy an SUV, to stop recycling, and to leave open cans of baked beans in cow pastures everywhere. Even IF my father insists I have a mancrush on Al Gore.

And with that note, I will end this blog entry.

Because I know that at this point, Mother Nature is about to bring karma back on my ass and show me she's The Boss.

I'll see you in May, when the snow melts here.

xoxox,
The Prisoner

Life Is Good: No Whining Allowed

It seems that this time of year, a lot of people suddenly start to get negative.

Blame it on Winter. Or Seasonal Affective Disorder. Or Post-Holiday Blues.

My Facebook news feed is full of people who think their life is miserable.

"FML"

Guess what? You're whining.

That is, unless you or a loved one is about to lose your home or job with no alternatives.

Or you or a loved one is about to be shipped off to Afghanistan.

Or you or a loved one been diagnosed with a terminal illness, or suffered the loss of a loved one.

It's easy to fall into the trap of wanting that "perfect life." The shows on TV and the movies in the theater make us think we deserve that.

But just remember Hollywood isn't grounded in reality.

Reality is this: Life does suck from time to time.

But if you are surrounded by loved ones, have a job, have food in your fridge, and a roof over your head, at the end of the day you really can't bitch.

Bills pile up. Relationships end. Friends are lost. People are pricks. But unless it means your life is truly worse than it was at the start of the day, is it worth getting negative over?

Because remember negativity breeds more negativity. And conversely, positivity breeds positivity.

I know it's not easy to wake up and put a fake smile on your face every day. But sometimes it doesn't hurt doing the ol' "fake it until you make it" routine.

And rather than playing your violin, or having cheese with your whine, how about putting on your big girl or big boy pants on and tackling the problems that are making your life more stressful?

Don't like your job? Find a new one.

Don't like your spouse/partner? See above.

Don't like your kids? Well, can't help you there...chances are you had something to do with who they are as a person.

Tired of drama? Eliminate the people causing it from your life.

Wishing things weren't so difficult? Well, again, can't help you there. Life is tough. But it doesn't mean you have to let Life win.

So if you're looking for a New Year's Resolution or two...see the list above and maybe there's a match for something you can do in 2012 to help make your life less sucky.

Or you can just keep whining.

Just don't expect me to stand around listening to it.

Happy New Year, everyone!

From The Prisoner

P.S. - This blog entry was written as a reminder to the author as well.

The Professor Gets a D+

I really need to stop in and see my old buddy, Steve Bloom.

Bloom was one of three professors who served on my Master's Project Committee when I got my M.A. in Journalism at the University of Iowa in the early 90s.

My feelings toward Professor Bloom have never been positive.

He was very pompous, and loved to share copies of articles he'd done for the Sacramento Bee and other publications with his students. He tended to talk in first person more than any other prof I had while at Iowa.

And don't get me started on my defense of my M.A. project - starting an alternative weekly newspaper in Iowa City. Yeah, I basically co-founded a business that outlasted me by a good 5-7 years while in grad school. And he attacked me for it.

Why? Because my summary of how we went about starting the newspaper didn't divulge enough of the conflict I had with my co-founder. He wanted the juicy rumors and details. I wanted to say, "Hey buddy, the details are in the in-depth articles we're doing every week about local issues...not about the battle over whether or not we should be renting a copy machine for $120/month."

But I bit my tongue. Even when he told me "I don't think you have what it takes to be a journalist."

Fast forward a few months after my defense of my M.A. project, and I ran into Bloom in front of the J-School building one afternoon.

I didn't want to talk to him, but he saw me, and started up a conversation. "Hey, Steve, I saw that piece you did in The New York Times about the horrible kidnapping and murder in Southeast Iowa. Do you have contacts you can share from the Times?"

"I'll have to look and see," I replied. "But you know I'm not much of a journalist." And I walked away.

So I was not at all surprised when I learned the ol' Professor penned a piece for The Atlantic this week that has many Iowans ready to say "GOSH DARN IT!" Read his article here.

Now I'm not going to dissect the Professor's article item by item, other than to say after living my first 29 years in Iowa (other than a 6 month stint in London), I'd really like to know what he's smoking.

Also, I'm disappointed in his writing. Poor construction, and too wordy.

Read the article and draw your own conclusions on whether he accurately depicts Iowans.

But I'll give you this, Bloom, you got the controversy you seek in your journalism. Every native or current Iowan I know is up in arms about this article.

So I guess you're right after all. If controversy is what journalism is about, you've got what it takes, even if it is at the expense of the truth.

And I don't.

So I propose we trade. You come sell steaks in Minnesota, and I'll come teach journalism to the students at the U of I.

After all, you only told me I didn't have what it took to BE a journalist. You didn't mention anything about TEACHING it.

You get a D+, Bloom.

See me after class.

Youbetcha I Talk Funny!

"Miranda says you have a funny accent."

My friend since fifth grade, Trish, was relaying the message that was just whispered in her ear by her 12-year-old daughter.

"You do!" Miranda added. "You sound funny!"

Trish and Miranda were in Sioux City this past weekend for the NAIA Volleyball tournament, and since I hadn't seen Trish in over a year, we met for lunch.

While I made sure to point out to Miranda that she had herself a little Kansas/Missouri accent of her own, I had to admit that she was right.

My dad has been giving me crap about my Minn-uh-soooh-tuh accent for years. I don't notice it, and it pains me to think I sound like they do, but alas, I've lived her for 12 years now...sigh...I caught the funny accent.

At least a few times a year, I'll catch myself talking on the phone with my dad, and the accent sneaks out. I'll quickly finish my statement with a good "Yeah, and it's aboot time to go skay-tin' dare soon."

I'm sure if I lived in Texas, I'd start saying "y'all" and call every pop a "Coke."

But show me where a movie was made making fun of the Texas accent.

Nothing like what "Fargo" did for Minnesota. (If you ever want to piss off a native Minnesotan, tell them they sound like the characters in "Fargo"). "Oh, geez, Marge, we don't sound like that!"

But yes, I don't say "snow," I say "Snoowwwh."

I don't say "lake," I say "Layyyyke."

And don't get me started on the Tundra pronunciation of "bagel."

But my new accent comes in handy when my Hawkeyes play the Gophers. I'm able to appropriately mock the world's longest spelling bee cheer, which would be the end to the Minnesota Rouser.

But until I'm paroled from The Tundra (7 years, 7 months and 16 days, approximately, unless I'm released early for good behavior), I'll just keep speaking my Canada Lite accent!

In the meantime, let me know if you wanna play some duck, duck, gray duck, or if you need me to borrow you something! Yeah, sure, youbetcha! Uff da!

Silent Nights

Silence.

It's a double-edged sword.

True there's no fighting or blaming or yelling.

But there's also no giggles, no jokes, no belly laughs.

Life as a single co-parent can be so bittersweet.

You have the time for yourself you never had before when married and in a family unit.

And you also have nights where you have no idea what your children are up to or where they are.

Tonight, what is supposed to be a night with kids, has turned kidless. The mini-me's are with their mom at a hip-hop dance show, or something like that.

My first thought was "what a perfect night to just have a quiet night watching some college football, sipping a beer, and enjoying a peaceful house."

But as the minutes tick by, the more lonely I feel.

No Gman asking me if he can use the computer yet. "The answer is still no!"

No Nile begging for a ride to the YMCA so he can play pickup basketball with his buddies. "Okay, Grady, you can use the computer while I'm driving your brother to play basketball."

Just me. And my stupid cat.

The silence is beautiful. And sad.

You find things to distract you from the sad silence. Read. Watch a movie. Nap. Write a blog.

Then you remember that you'll see them tomorrow. And you take a deep breath. It will be okay.

But one thing being a single half-time parent does do...it makes you cherish the moments you have with those little poops before you blink and they're not-so-little poops.

Good silence. Bad silence. Peace with inner chaos.

Be safe, my sons. I will see you tomorrow!

Thankful for the Little Things...

Every year I seem to write a Thanksgiving blog entry where I cover all the things I'm thankful for in my life.

Since I'm doing 30 Days of Thankfulness on Facebook this year, this seems to be overkill, so I thought this year instead, I'd find the little things I'm thankful for.

1. Dimples. Holy crap am I thankful for those.

2. Summit India Pale Ale. Nectar of the Gods, I say.

3. Country music (and for letting me pretend to be a redneck).

4. Mac and Cheese Lasagna (with bacon in it of course).

5. Ranch Dressing. I mean seriously, there's no better condiment on Earth.

6. My car (when it is working properly). Living without it is basically impossible.

7. My Grinnell College buddies (though they're not technically "little").

8. Cool people who like to laugh, as opposed to mean people who like to complain.

9. Reese's Peanut Butter cups. 'Nuf said.

10. The U.S. Army Corps of Engineers (Just kidding...making sure you're actually reading this).

11. College football...not JUST my Hawkeyes.

12. Coffee (and make it simple, I like my coffee like I like my men - hot, black, rich and bitter - wait, what?)

13. Swimsuits manufactured by Speedo that go all the way down to the knee (allowing me to return to the pool for the first time in 20 some years).

14. Summertime. Give me 90s and humidity any day of the year!

15. Jerry's Pizza. Nothing better on this planet. Nothing!

16. La Juanita's Burritos. (See 15, the only thing better on this planet).

17. The Interwebz, for giving me something to do to waste time that doesn't require TV, so it makes it better, right? Right?

18. Cheeseburgers. The best complementary meal with an India Summit Pale Ale.

19. Grace Potter's legs.

20. Every single person who reads my blog on a regular basis.

Happy Turkey Day, everyone, to you and yours!