Sexless and the City: The Very Beginning


Photo Credit: carleyjayne photography

“I think you might be becoming cynical…” -Jo

“Fine.  Let’s sign me up, but we’re going to need more wine.” -Me

I’ve had some strong internal debates about even publishing a series with SEX in the title because let’s be honest, my grandmother and dad read this…and they don’t need to know about my sex life, or intense lack of…

But, in the spirit of honesty and coming full circle with the reason this whole blog began (holy shit, five years ago!), I’m doing it.  I’m a grown woman and I realized, I just have to go balls deep.  All the puns intended.

So get hydrated, grab your sense of humor, and your screens.  We’re going in…

Online dating, amirite?  It’s like suddenly being blind and realizing that all the charm, intellect, and humor you thought you had on lockdown to get you through most of your life just aren’t going to cut it anymore.  So you contact your wine dealer (because NECESSITY) and you go down the rabbit hole.  It feels like the scariest and bravest thing to do all at the same time.  And there are enough stories for me to write a book (any editors/publishers reading?  Hit me up.)  Seriously.

I’m not being dramatic when I say that dating in this millennial age is one of the most ridiculous activities I’ve ever participated in.  Like I’d maybe even trade it for some of those rough days in Freshman year PE class where myself and three other females were stuck with all Junior and Senior boys, playing dodgeball.  Come to think of it, that was probably where I first really found my feminine power so maybe those years helped prepare me in some way for dating…because let me tell you, despite its chaos; dating in these times is also empowering AF.  Like when the dude that’s been flirting with you in PE class (by throwing balls as hard as he can just below your face) finally gets his when you look him dead in the eyes as you catch it and get him out and then proceed to throw it at his buddy and it’s a twofor and you feel like a boss bitch. (Yes this happened).

Some of my (now) best and worst stories to tell are from my experience this past year+, putting myself out there, drafting and rewriting profiles to make myself sound awesome, while also staying true to my authenticity – quite the skill set actually, just building my tool box here, kids!  It legitimately had me wishing for 90s dating in Manhattan because despite some of the questionable fashion choices, at least Carrie, Miranda, Samantha, and Charlotte had each other, strong drinks, and some of them were actually getting laid.  Don’t get me wrong.  I’ve got people.  We aren’t a foursome, wearing $585 shoes, stomping on men in the city together, but I do have at least three close girlfriends who help keep me sane through my life messes and celebrate all the good stuff with me too.  The challenge is, we’re rarely single at the same time.  So a lot of my single in the city adventures are just that…me, single AF, figuring it out.  Several of my friends have had luck online or they’ve found their person other ways and their caring asses have been pushing me to put myself out there (when I’d really prefer to just stay home and read about great loves with Jane Austen by candlelight).  But, since I realized my friend Jo was right, I was becoming cynical…just a little…and I’d also read that cynicism can cause wrinkles, I allowed myself to be coerced after we shared a bottle and a half of Rosé.

Being lubricated with a nice pink drink buzz, I renounced my power to craft a clever profile to Jo.  I threw all caution to the wind and although I consider myself decently eloquent with words, I just couldn’t quite articulate myself in a fetching way, since I was still getting my head wrapped around this idea. was the first mark.  We explored and scrolled, read profiles and drank more wine.  We stumbled upon a handsome guy who seemed to share my love of travel and adventure so I decided to hand over my credit card to subscribe me so we could write him.  I never did end up hearing from him through Match, but we proceeded to match on another app (more on this later) like no joke, four times; masochism becomes a theme you’ll find here.  Jo and I also both fell in love with who we affectionately named “Seal Guy”.  He was a very attractive marine mammal scientist and spent a lot of time out on the water and part of me was thinking, “YES!  A potential part time boyfriend.  Just what my independent and stubborn ass needs. Something like that could be perfect.”  Well, he wasn’t even in wifi consistently enough to talk to me in the prelims let alone plan a meet cute.  I will say my intro message to him was drunkenly epic (and also embarrassingly cheesy)…a few marine puns were used that got his attention, but that ship sank.  (I’m here all night).

As I entered my first work week being “out there online”, I decided to edit my profile and make it sound a little more like me.  Actual text:

I’ve been informed by my amazing friends that the likelihood of meeting a decent guy whilst rocking my athleisure wear in the laundry detergent aisle is really slim…so here I am.

I have been told I’m an old soul, but also young at heart. I’m a city girl that was raised in the country and I can hold my own in both. I caught the travel bug early and I’m always longing for far away places while adventuring around this wonderful, rainy city. I am fiercely independent and I want to find a partner who can keep up with and laugh with me.

I’m a people person and base a lot of my happiness on being in the crowd. I have a deep passion for helping people and continue to create opportunities that allow me to foster relationships committed to worthy causes. I can fold a fitted shit like a boss, however, that doesn’t mean I’m the woman that will do it for you, but I’ll happily teach you…or we can just build a fort instead.

I enjoy meeting new people and I also deeply adore my alone time and disconnecting to gain perspective, get outside, tap into my creative interests, or binge watch old movies.

I love laughing…it’s literally my favorite. A large dose of sarcasm is at the heart of my vernacular and I can keep up with the best of them so if you want a spot on my team, you better be lighthearted and funny too or you can’t hang. I’m spontaneous and all about pursuing life to the fullest and seizing the moment. Music is something that just seems to get me, we’ve gotten each other through a lot and there’s always a soundtrack to my life.

I lived in Australia for a year…traveling around, slinging drinks behind a bar, and exploring. I booked a one way ticket, bought a backpack, and jumped all in. If that sounds crazy to you, it sort of was a little, but in the most epic possible way. My experiences traveling have forever changed me and I can’t wait for the next destination I fall in love with.

I don’t take myself or life too seriously and I’ve become a pro at seeing silver linings and dancing in the rain. Seriously, I’m not afraid to break it down in the street and dance in the rain…if you can’t join me or laugh at me when I’m being ridiculous, take your black cloud elsewhere. I’ll just be over here being awesome without you and having all the fun!

Did anyone notice I spelled sheet wrong?  Yeah…neither did I until like a MONTH later when I was at a birthday dinner and a friend was reading my profile out loud.  Although my pride took a bit of a dive due to my grammatical error, considering this story is still told in my circle today and it makes Jo laugh every time she folds sheets, it was worth it.  At this point I had been on one coffee date with a guy named Rick (we all know that wasn’t going anywhere) who was a perfectly nice guy…the exact right person to pop my online dating cherry, smooth just like my hemp milk latte.  I continued messaging back and forth with some other guys…boring, boring…enter Seattle Chad*.  We met one night after work for a drink, post flirting about old movies and favorite books, I was intrigued and he wore nice flannels in his photos.

We learn all about him and his BIG………ego, next episode.

Wear protection, it’s rough out there.

xx, h


Photo Credit: carleyjayne photography

*Name has been changed to protect identity of former date

Love Actually…{Part I}

“Love yourself first and everything else falls in line.  You really have to love yourself to get anything done in this world.”  –Lucille Ball

ME_468_AcceptingSelfLoveImage Cred: The Googles

Ah, love.  The word, the feeling, the one intangible thing that has the power to build you up and also tear you down.  Lately, the universe has been bringing me conversations surrounding the topic; I’ve had some personal battles with it recently and have also had some discussions with a few important dudes in my life and it has inspired some deep thought.

It seems to me that the human condition when it comes to matters of the heart has created this idea that we must constantly seek that which we don’t have.  We want what we can’t get.  When we get it, we don’t want it anymore and continue searching for something else to obtain.  You can understand how this becomes a very dangerous game when you’re playing with people’s hearts.  We walk around, existing under the idea that the grass is always greener on the other side.  Which is completely ridiculous since most of us just forgot to turn on the bloody hose and water our own lawn…or we’ve left the hose on too long and drowned the poor thing.  In my not so extensive dating experience, I have found that women have this same mentality when dating The Asshole.  You know what I’m about to dig into…it’s okay.  Save your “monkey see” emoji for a later time and listen up.

For us ladies out there, we’ve all dated The Asshole guy.  Sometimes, we’re even awesome enough to date several…our roaring 20s are good for that.  We get kicked to shit by them, eventually inducing a wish for someone nice to come around and treat us right.  With this wish for the nice kind of guy, we throw in an added bonus wish that we’ll acquire just a DASH of common sense as we enter the next round of dating, hoping to take action with the red flags that pop up.  Enter The Nice Guy.  He can serve our wants and needs for a time, but eventually, we sabotage him and his “niceness”.  The Nice Guy is just “too nice” we tell ourselves and our best girlfriends over dirty martinis at happy hour.  We eventually just wish that The Nice Guy would be more of a dick like our dear ex, The Asshole.  But why?  Why in all the things in this world that are holy and sacred would we want to ruin a perfectly good thing once we finally got what we’d been wishing for?!

Because: society.  We’ve been conditioned by society and also conditioned by ourselves to never be satisfied with what we have; we are always striving to attain more.  Because nothing is ever good enough.  You see, we’re told that perfection is out there, that we can acquire it.  And we believe it!  So we continue galloping off on our unicorns searching for our knights in shining armor and ending up with losers in aluminum foil.   I’ll just take a moment here to remind everyone the definition of an important word:




extreme foolishness or irrationality.

My personal favorite: The definition of insanity, is, doing the exact same f*cking thing over and over again, expecting shit to change. That. Is. Crazy.  Thank you Urban Dictionary.

This is why women of a certain age start settling.  We settle for the “good on paper” guys.  Type A personalities who seem to have their general shit together, are nice, practical, planners.  In my personal translation {please take no offense you good on paper people out there–the world needs you too!}, boring as f*ck.  I only speak from my personal dating experience here.

Women my age who have dated The Asshole Guy or the emotionally blocked guys… hopped on the roller coaster of adventure into the unknown world of spontaneity, risk and inevitably other unsafe emotional places…eventually get tired.  Like we get so damn, EXHAUSTED of the let down, the not knowing, the hurt, the general asshole-isms…all of it.  So we settle for safety and security with someone that we love…but that love might require us to convince ourselves it’s really there half the time.  Unfortunately for thrill seeking women out there in dating land {hey girl heyyy!}, the good on paper guy isn’t random, spontaneous and full of adventure.  We’re going to pick The Nice Guy we maybe aren’t head over heels in love with out of fear that the roller coaster Asshole Guy won’t ever grow up, make you a safety harness that works and get his shit together enough to be with you.  And women get scared.  Get ready to clinch your teeth…it’s coming…in overly dramatic form of course…

Eventually, the hard and sad truth of it, is that a lot of women just want to be “rescued”.  Plus, there’s that whole biological clock ticking thing that happens right around age 28 for most of us with ovaries.  The Nice Guy is the one who can provide you with the picket fence, the golden retriever and the 2.some random decimal that doesn’t exist, babies.  You’ll have sex once a year for the rest of your marriage.  {YAY! Insert thumbs down emoji here.}  Then possibly wake up one day in your early 40s or 50s, the kiddos are living their own lives, and you realize that you have nothing in common with the person you’re sharing a bed with in your house with the picket fence that your tired, old golden retriever leaves hair all over.  This is one of the many reasons spouses start to resent each other’s very existence and why many marriages end in divorce.  Isn’t it a happy cycle?!  *Disclaimer: as mentioned above, this is a dramatization.  I am not a marriage counselor or licensed therapist, just one of those female homo sapiens who is intuitive and has opinions.*

Before you stop reading, thinking this is just a cynical rant dripping with “relationship hate”, stay with me; it’s going to get good in part II.