Am I Curious About the D?

I felt a little guilty for putting the basic dude with the weak D on blast on here, but shortly after I wrote that post he sent me an unsolicited photo of condoms followed by a simple and smug: “You’re welcome.”

Context: The subject came up in conversation during a previous date. We discussed my strict policy requirement, he stated he didn’t have any and shared some typical defense on why he doesn’t use them.

NEWSFLASH: No one likes condoms. NO ONE. 

*EYES ROLL SO HARD I LOOK LIKE BRAN WHEN HE DOES HIS THING WHEN HE LEAVES THE CONVERSATION IN GAME OF THRONES*

I had not yet sent the “Sorry, but I don’t want to waste your time…” text by the time homeboy thought he was making my day by attempting to entice me with more (mediocre) sex.

You have to be supremely arrogant and presumptuous to text a woman of a photo of condoms and assume that: 

1. She thinks you’re thoughtful for obtaining contraceptives.

2. She wants more sex.

Just so everyone is clear with my entire thought process when it comes to deciding if I want to have sex with a man I (spent way to much time and) created a decision tree. I hope the use of a visual aid adds to the overall depth of understanding these kinds of choices.

Please note that actually only a small percentage of men get past that first question, also note there are so many more ways to immediately skip all the way to the end of the line where the my possible curiosity goes to die.

Covering all the bases

Everyone thinks I should stick to dating on apps because “it’s a numbers game.”

I wholeheartedly disagree. I’m not looking to just date, I’m looking for the love of my life and regardless of how many new men I meet or go on dates with—love is not a numbers game. I don’t necessarily think that just because I go on dates with 100 dudes that one of them will work out. 

Call me a (cynical) hopeless romantic… 

I think love is already written in the cards. The story has already been drafted, the plot has already been decided.

I believe in fate, destiny, and all that other serendipitous bullshit. I do.

So in return I believe that no matter what the fuck I do… date… or not… my dude will show up precisely when he is supposed to—even if I take some fucked up turn, even if one of us ends up delayed due to some long drawn-out detour. 

Eventually our paths will cross or the story will start to all make sense.

It doesn’t have to be the obvious rom-com meet-cute I’m always gushing about. In truth he’ll probably irritate the shit out of me on our first encounter. He’ll probably say the wrong thing and I won’t think twice about him until he makes himself glaringly clear that he’s a decent candidate as a leading man in the story of my life. 

But I’ll keep going on dates for the meantime, not as an end to the means, but because I actually have the energy and patience to continue exposing myself to potential love interests. Plus, have you seen the list of bars and restaurants I want to go to? I might as well check a few off while I wait.

Also who the fuck knows… maybe my story goes:

“I met your dad on Tinder. He decided to neg me in his opening line. I almost didn’t respond.”

So I’ll just cover my all my bases—at least for now.

*WINKY FACE EMOJI HERE*

Basic & the Bedroom

This past week I had sex with a new dude and it was terrible. 

It was trash. It was another weakass addition to my body count.

But after I managed to kick him out of my place after several “I’m tired”s, “I have an early meeting tomorrow” (which was 100% true), and encouraging him to go back home and check on his puppy, I couldn’t be happier at the fact he could not satisfy me sexually. 

I was fucking ecstatic. 

WHY?

Cause I would’ve kept homeboy on the roster had he just been able to do his job in the bedroom. We’ve had multiple dates and after each one it became more and more alarmingly clear that he had a basic personality. The only thing he had going for him was that I found him attractive and I didn’t mind accompanying him to dinner. A few hours can fly if you just allow a cocky man to speak to his heart’s content.

I knew early on that his attributes would not add up to what I consider a full package. He wasn’t intellectually stimulating. He never let me finish a story. I never really bothered to show him my true self because it was obvious he couldn’t appreciate me for me, especially my sense of humor. There were so many signs that I would be wasting my time if I continued seeing him, but I needed to test the waters and try out the D. Sometimes all you need is a good meal and good D, at least while you continue to look for someone with more substance.

I would’ve settled for that situation. Key word SETTLED and I’m not one for settling.

So, fuck settling. Onto the next.

SFDC

I have this coined response about what it’s like being a creative person working for a tech giant. If you ever come across me IRL you can ask and I’ll keep it 1000 with you. Until then maybe you would like to cop Salesforce as a product so I can retire on-time in exactly 30 years from now.

FF to 1:20 to see yours truly.

How to Date Kate - Part 2

I’ve been putting off dating for the past 6 months, but I’ve finally woken up recently with the right attitude to try again. I think it helps knowing that no matter what—I have a plan for myself and it’s not determined by whether or not I am successful with dating or ultimately even find a partner. Although that would be fucking nice.

Be cool.

I scare off extremely easily. I am super emotionally unavailable, but I’m working on it. I’m not good with men being eager or excited out the gate. I don’t do well with physical compliments as opening statements and I will test your ability to retort my sarcastic or witty comment more than anything. In the end I just want someone who is sharp enough to hang, anything less is just boring and dry to me.

We’re not going to talk about tattoos.

I have 5. I don’t care how many you have or if you have any. BUT IF YOU DO—I HOPE THEY ARE DONE WELL. There is nothing worse than bad tattoos. Next subject.

I will scour for red flags.

In the past I’ve been really into assholes and admitted alcoholics. *SHRUGS* I enjoyed what was familiar to me. Often enough the men were attractive enough to allow shitty behavior. One man in my messages has already mentioned his “narcissistic ex” twice and this is our first conversation. It’s safe to say I don’t really feel comfortable continuing the conversation any further with him. FTR: I’d rather have you be on good terms with your Ex as long as the circumstances allow so. Maturity is a better look than pettiness. I could throw Ex-Mr under the bus a million times, but growing up with him in our 20’s made me half the woman I am today and I appreciate him for it. Ok, maybe its like 35/65%..

Chivalry should be alive and well.

I can pay for my own drinks and if I’m eating with you it’s not because I need a free meal. I’m the strong independent type who don’t need no man—obviously. However I will note if you open doors, if you make me walk on the side furthest from street traffic, if you let me order first and all of those tiny signs that show you care (or want to impress me). You can go from a decent B- to a solid A if you end the night with “Text me when you get home.” I’m a complete fucking sucker for “Text me when you get home.” It doesn’t cost anything and it is meaningful as fuck.

PS. Here’s a real-life screen cap of the red flag dude I mentioned above. I wrote this before he messaged all that. Safe to say I’ve already un-matched him. I always attract the winners. Always.

Piecemeal

The other night I had a dream I brought Tako to a party and at some point I was frantically searching for him. He’s terrible off-leash. When I found him he was hanging out with a husky and pitbull. He was the smallest one and just following them around. I was relieved and proud because he wasn’t being a dick. He’s an arrogant alpha, but the fucker only weighs 26 lbs so—I worry.

Idk why I’m having dreams about being responsible for my dog, guys. The same scenario makes more sense if he’s a human child, which is prob some twist my mind was doing subconsciously.

I’ve realized that my obsession w/ my dog stems from everything I’ve wanted out of life and as it turns out—he’s the only one here with me.

He’s the first one to keep me company.

Sure… I had a husband at some point but obviously that didn’t work out.

The truth is I think I will get EVERY THING I want out of life. By now the list is reduced down to essentials: shiba, child (prob just one), and a man (whenever).

I can’t tell if its arrogance or confidence, I’m a Leo—so let’s call it both.

I’m not worried about getting everything I want, I’m pretty sure I’ll get it… when I’ll get it is the unpredictable part.

I’ve prioritized my life based on the things I would like to achieve with the resources I have on-hand. When you objectively list all these items “love from a good man” is honestly the last thing on the list. I can’t decide that timing, nor am I willing to go above and beyond my daily routines to try to make this happen. I could probably fall in love every decade of my life. As long as I’m not horribly disfigured from some freak accident or lose all sense of my personality—I shouldn’t have any problems.

SEE—ARROGANCE.

My female reproductive system is the part of me with a clock ticking down, not my heart, so I’ve decided to focus on that.

It’s a shame though, because my body is in the best shape of my life and my disposable income is at a high as well. I could send fire nudes AND take you to Nobu.

THIS COULD BE US—BUT YOU PLAYIN.

This doesn’t mean I’ll stop trying to date or ignore men completely. I still require the gas they give. It just means when I hit that point when it’s time to start my family I will do it… all by myself and hopefully with the sperm of a 6’ brunette man—which I will pick out of a catalog.

Until then it’s just me and Tako, unless some superdude wants to come through and join us. I won’t hold my breath for that, I’ll just accept what comes into my life piece by piece.

Balance

For New Years Eve I went to bed. 

I ordered Chinese food takeout, watched shitty movies and got unnecessarily high by 9pm. By 9:30 I could no longer hang and much to Tako’s vocal irritation called it a night. 

By the way, I looked like absolute shit when I had to retrieve my order in my new building’s lobby. Bitches were dressed to the nines waiting for their Lyfts while I shamefully took my food from the delivery guy. Also, to paint you an even more slightly pathetic picture my order was small enough that they only provided one solitary fortune cookie. 

JUST ONE. ONE FOR THE SINGLE GIRL ORDERING CHINESE FOOD TAKEOUT BEFORE THE YEAR ENDS SO SHE CAN EAT IN PEACE IN HER SWEATS.

When I woke up it was 2019. 

I figure it’s all about balance. Sometimes you’re in Singapore getting unnecessarily inebriated with a couple of young Japanese businessmen because they’re paying for it, sometimes you’re spending a Friday night at home cleaning your oven in your underwear with a bottle of Malbec, sometimes you’re throwing your boy’s hard-earned singles at the stripper in front of you cause he told you to give it to your favorite dancer. BY THE WAY… why is this a thing? I’ve had 4 separate men in my life, in 4 separate friend groups, give me $5 just so they could watch me interact with the stripper and vice versa. WHY IS THIS A THING? I digress.

And sometimes… you plan a quiet night in on a cold as fuck December 31st because dressing up, getting drunk and spending money doesn’t sound appealing in any shape or form.

That’s balance, right? Yeah I think that’s the textbook definition of balance.

Tomorrow

I’m sorry. 

The truth is I pretend this blog doesn’t exist so I don’t feel too bad. I wanted to write, but it didn’t feel right jumping into some random topic after such a long hiatus. Plus, believe it or not, I would much rather write with a good cup of coffee at 9:30 am than with a glass of wine at 9:30 pm. It’s weird, it’s like I think I’m finally a morning person. Note: I said “think.”

Let’s just forget I was gone for so long…

Tomorrow I get keys to a new apartment. I always thought I wouldn’t leave this tiny Tenderloin studio until 1 of 2 possibilities happened: 

• I moved in with a man. 

• Somehow my ass got pregnant. I said “somehow” cause you know, shit happens. 

Either way, neither of those things happened. I got tired of feeling like I’ve regressed into a life where I couldn’t entertain, cook, or have space to breathe. Plus, its impossible for Tako to get any kind of exercise in our current home. 

So tomorrow we start a new chapter in our story, because I’m tired of waiting for someone else to fucking change it. I won’t lie, I wake up in the middle of the night with groggy sentimental thoughts of how I will no longer be able to stumble exactly 6 steps in the dark to get to a toilet. I’m worried going down an entire flight of steps at 2am due to the need to empty my bladder will do a number on my insomnia. I’m worried the space will be big and cold and I can’t wear shorts to sleep in the middle of December like I normally do.

But fuck it…

I see cheese and charcuterie boards in my near future. I see impromptu rooftop parties where we kill whatever bottles of wine I immediately have on hand. I envision plenty of quiet nights in because there is no place better to be. I see myself writing more at an actual desk.

Please hold me to that last one.

BRB. OOO.

One of the best compatibility questions a man asked me on a date was: “What do you like to do while on vacation?”

My answer was simply: search for high vantage points and good places to take photos, catch sunsets, and wander without a particular destination in mind. The bougie side of me will also tell you that I search for speakeasy bars and a Michelin starred meal—but that’s only if company, cost and time permit.

I don’t like to waste time shopping. I hate carrying things around while on the go. And although I’m a creative person I don’t particularly enjoy going to museums and other “educational/cultural” places because reading plaques to learn on my own while on vacation sounds like torture. I’m supposed to be relaxing and you want me to read and retain information just for fun?

Nah. No thank you. Fuck that.

HOWEVER… I will say I don’t mind a corny tour group. I can actually hold onto knowledge in lecture format, as long as the subject matter is interesting enough. Case in point—distillery tours are the shit AND you get to sample their product when it's over. Plus, no shame, I’m one of those people at the end who always has questions.

Tomorrow Mees and I leave for Asia for 2 weeks. After being heavily in and out the feelz for a steady month I am extremely ready to go. 

Please wish us luck—it’s a guaranteed shit show on regular weekends when we have a little too much to drink, imagine what kind of fuckery will ensue over the course of 14 days on the other side of the world. Time to experience new stories.

I haven’t told you a good story in a minute…

BRB. OOO. 

Stupid, Silly, Ordinary Shit

I fantasize about stupid shit.

Like getting picked up at the airport by a thoughtful man, a 4 year-old boy with a misspelled “Welcome Home” sign, and a calmer middle-aged Tako waiting in the car.

I think of that one whenever my plane lands at SFO after taking a solo flight. It’s a frequent enough occurrence.

I just want to be disruptive and inconvenient, but as unintentional and unrecognizable as possible.

I’m not asking to be catered to. It’s different if I expect to be coddled or spoiled. I just want to be loved so fucking hard that sometimes efficiency is simply impossible or hell… it’s not even necessary.

I fantasize about silly shit.

I think about baking cakes and writing “thanks for the D” on it. I’ll even throw in a hand-written card to show more of my gratitude. Maybe I’d throw in a gift card to In N’ Out, I mean... as long as the recipient doesn’t feel objectified by my ridiculous gestures.

I don’t want anyone feeling objectified—well, unless that’s what he wants. (PS. It doesn’t have to be In N Out.)

I fantasize about ordinary shit. 

I want to have random 2 person picnics in the park (+ Tako). Ones where my dude acts like he’s reading a book and where I jot down blog ideas. Stupid 2 person picnics where we discuss what to make for dinner that night and what documentary we should watch later.

I’m interested in the stuff that goes on during the weekend that no one ever gushes about. Things so boring and mundane that they are not worth uttering.

“What’d you do this weekend?”

*runs down list*

• Went to the Farmer’s Market
• Ordered Thai 
• Had a lot of sex

“Oh nothing really.”

You know… stupid, silly, ordinary shit.

FF >> pls

I wish I could write something upbeat, something along the lines of how I usually do—about being blown away by surprises, the greetings that come without social media reminders, and all that other positive blah blah blah I usually speak…

But I’ve been crying for a solid 2 hours and *checks watch* I don’t think we’re going to get a nice light-hearted birthday post this year around.

I tried.

Let’s just call the one a wash. I can’t pick myself up. I’m too tired.

I wanted to Google SF Michelin star restaurants and figure out which one would be the least awkward to get a one-person reservation, but I was too chicken fine dine solo. Instead I ate a $6 slice of pizza and opened a $100 bottle of wine and ate and drank by myself—at home.

I did it on purpose. I didn’t want to bother anyone about today. I didn’t want to be a burden whether that meant time or money.

I don’t fucking know why… all I know is that I wish that responsibility fell into a single person’s hands—but for me, I don’t have that person.

And I cannot fucking get over it right now.

I’m upset I woke up alone. I’m upset that (whenever the fuck I actually get drowsy) I’ll go to sleep alone.

I’m so mad at myself for being so depressed and hung up on this when I’ve been blessed in just about every aspect of my life.

I just can’t shake it.

On the positive side I will take the fucking lows. I will take the years of the solo birthdays, tests of patience, and all that other bullshit that builds character. This part is just a blip in the overall timeline.

This blip feels like forever tho. 

FF >> pls.

Green Eyed Monster

I was fine until this morning, but then I checked Instagram and there was this heartfelt caption an IG friend wrote for his wife on her bday.

I’m pretty sure this has happened before. Pretty sure I’ve cried heavy tears over the words this man has written for the woman he loves. 

1. Because this feels all too familiar.
2. Because her birthday is days from mine.

Normally I never take anything anyone writes on IG that seriously. Social media is not real life. It’s highlights and bullshit and the life people would like for others to perceive. 

Most of the time.

But I honestly believe this man feels this way about his wife. Word for fucking word. I don’t know if its because he’s a wedding photographer by profession and he’s enveloped by love and romance all the damn time, or that he seems like an honest-to-GOD genuine fucking dude.

I just believe him. 200%. And I’m skeptical of everything…

I’m trying to figure out if it’s narcissistic to want to be thaaaaat much in love.

To have one person think the world of you and communicate it through mere words, so much that even someone across the United States can feel how much you love this single human being. So much she bawls fat and salty tears.

My heart is so heavy, so fucking jealous that no one loves me that way.

But oh well, it’s all just the meantime right?

Maybe my life is lit when I’m 65 and retired, and me and boo thang are living off Salesforce stocks and our 401k's. That way when vows are “till death do us part” I have a better chance of a man actually keeping his promise.

Get it?

Cause we’re closer to death at that age anyways?

*MAKES JOKES WHEN I’M FUCKING CRYING*

There you are, defense mechanism…

Right. On. Time. 

If you didn’t laugh at that you need to stop reading my blog and go.