One thing that is unique about Bumble is that women have to message the guys first. It kind of goes against everything in my Italian Princess upbringing. But, since getting divorced I have learned dating is a shit show and I figured try new rules and see what happens.
I looked through about 347 profiles and swiped right on 3. One seemed decent and stable, but on further review turned out to be a partier looking to add to his harem ....ummm no thanks.
One was boring. His texts were like a bedtime story...zzzzz!
The third one was great at conversation, funny, had a good job, grown children no longer at home, and time to devote. Sounded like potential.
So with a newfound positivity - probably induced from days at the beach and a few margaritas- I decided to meet Guy #3 for wings and drinks. Well, he was funny enough to give him a chance for another date.
With an open mind I ventured out with him again.
He quickly earned the nickname Ol' Man because even though he was only 5 years older, he acted like an 80 year old. He went to sleep by 9 and his main hobby was eating out.
Hmmm...I tried to keep an open-mind because everyone knows the only way to get over someone is to get under someone else, or something like that. So if I was ever going to break my Wild One habit, I had to make it through a few dates and truly give someone else a chance.
Ol' Man was a big dude. He was 6'4 and outweighed me by a couple hundred pounds. I am a pretty big girl to begin with so his dining out habit was not helping my summer physique. I suggested dancing, bowling, etc. etc. But, nope he did not like loud music or any exercise. He was most comfortable at restaurants. So we ate. I tried to stick to appetizers or salads and mostly drank my calories.
He was funny. He was sweet. He had great stories.
And eventually he invited me over to "make dinner" for me. Of course.
So I went. Still being open-minded. Still thinking this would be my Habit Breaker. Still thinking this sweet, stable man had some potential.
He had a lovely house, which I realized when I arrived... he shared with ...his mother.
Thankfully she was away for the week.
He also had a small, handicapped dog that tried humping my leg through the entire dinner.
He offered me a glass of wine, but I ended up drinking the whole bottle.
When he kissed me I realized...shit was about to get real.
But, all I could think about was Walruses. Giant, slobbering walruses.
Four minutes in...Ol' Man thought he was having a heart attack and was having a hard time breathing.
Shit Show!
I stayed long enough to make sure he had a pulse and then I ran.
On my way out he shouted, "Wait? Don't you want to finish the movie?"
Hell. NO.
Ol' Man was Not The Habit Breaker.
For the next 2 weeks I kept having weird dreams about walruses.
It was as if my MOJO had completely evaporated overnight.
I was worried it was gone forever.
The Wild One helped me prove my MOJO was just fine.
And that turned out to be trouble and eventually ended in disaster of course.
But that is a story for another time.
