That Time I Won Tinder

Last time I told you all about how I was a boss ass bitch at Tinder. Now I get to prove it, because guess what, I went on a date with a total stranger that I met on the app. And guess what else; She is totally real and didn’t murder me or anything. #winning

If you don’t happen to know me in real life, I’ll cut to the chase. We’re still dating. It’s actually been over a month and half or so now. But she is more of a private-facebook-and-instagram-profiles-and-really-no-other-social-media kind of girl, so I have been maintaining and respecting her privacy the very best I can. (PS this is really effing hard bc I am addicted to social media, taking pictures, writing, AND talking.) That said, you guys, my attempt at trying to have a nice, cool, impressive date with a really captivating woman was too much of an epic fail to not share.

Before I get into the whole thing, lemme add another Tinder tip: If you like someone, like really, really, super like them, you should totally “Super Like” them on Tinder (hit the heart button or swipe up). Here’s the thing, if you do the usual swipe right, they get the chance to swipe right for you if you meet their age, gender, and distance specifics. But, if say, they live 50 miles from you and have their distance out to 45, they won’t ever see your pretty little face. Don’t be sad, there is a solution! If you super like said person, they will receive a notification that someone, somewhere super liked them. If she happens to be an old broad in her thirties, like me, this is terribly exciting all on its own and also, then the person has the option of opening up their specifics until they find, and hopefully match, with the person who super liked them.

As you can guess, this is more of less what happened to me and this new girlfriend of mine. I feel weird to call her girlfriend on here since we have already done that, so I’m just gonna call her B. She’ll get it, you don’t have to. Just assume it stands for Babe or something ultra-romantic.

So there I was at ex-husband’s office trying to do some tax paperwork. We were officially divorced at the time, but as we weren’t for 2015, we had to kinda crunch some numbers and see what would work best for this year. Side note: ex-husband is more of a tinder expert than me. He’s been on there pretty consistently since August with a few stints off. I add that detail to establish that he is very well familiar with the Tinder notification sounds. When my phone started dinging he jumped all in about me having a match. When I opened the app I had no options, so I changed my age specifications to 18-55+ and the distance all the way to 100 miles. And then. BAM! Seriously. Hottest. Girl. Ever. Like ever. I honest to gawd lost my breath and flipped my phone around to show him. He made the face that I guess ex-husband’s make at their super gay ex-wives when they really start to get it and said, “Ummm… wow. She seems exactly like your type. Right?” Ummm... wow. She seems exactly like your type. Right-.jpgI nodded and quickly swiped right. When it came up as a match, I’m pretty sure I heard the sound slot machines make when all the winning is going down. I sat there for a few minutes deciding between just being totally lame and generic and just saying hi or being lamer and superficial and just telling her how gorgeous she is or something better than both that never happened. Before I could decide, she messaged ME. I thought about panicking, but she jumped right into talking about roller derby and it was easy and smooth and completely natural. Confession: I did all the things a true Tinder expert would advise you NOT to do. We jumped right in on exchanging last names and phone numbers and facebook and instagram and snapchat and yeah, basically all the things. In my defense I found her on facebook and instagram before she even gave me her last name I think. We did know mutual people and I felt like she was real. Also, I did not give her my address or social security number, so I have that going for me. Anyway that day was towards the beginning of April, and the facebooking, snapchatting, texting, and everything else hasn’t slowed down one tiny bit. We just started actually meeting in real life too. B lives about 2 hours away. So that super sucks, but we see each other basically as much as humanly possible for two moms with plenty of kid duties that far apart.

I’m feeling like this is already long enough, so I am just gonna leave you hanging and write the first date story next time. I don’t wanna rush through it. Spoiler alert: I’m a super embarrassing hot mess.

Cheers!

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Look at Me: I’m a Tinder Expert

Remember back in the day when online dating was basically for the people who couldn’t get a date in real life? Or maybe that just sounds super bitchy and isn’t even how it was? I’m not entirely sure. But I do know that was my perception of online dating circa 2006. Hell, I am pretty sure that is still how it is for sites like eHarmony and Match and legit online dating sites. (Farmer’s Only, anyone?…) Well, that and people who are really, really wanting a real-thing relationship and want something super specific and have the time and desire to fill out a 5 hour questionnaire. Gawd.

Maybe I have dateless potential too. I totally took the time to fill out the entire questionnaire for some such site, only to realize a half-ass shot at someone else’s idea of true love wasn’t worth the easy monthly payment of $19.95 to me. Give me free shit or give me death. On to Plenty of Fish and Tinder. Plus… easy apps and swiping is really quite fun. Or it is for the exhilarating 3 minutes I got being a woman searching women in Bumblefuck, Idaho.

My actual thoughts as I swiped on Tinder the first time: Friend, nah, ex, derby girl,threesome, facebook friend, ex’s ex, nah, nah, threesome, friend, derby girl, threesome, derby girl, nah, nah, nah, time’s up. My quick clarifications on that are this: There is nothing wrong with dating a derby girl. I find it preferable. However, if it is a derby girl I have crossed paths with before via my team or another team nearby, we had our shot as far as i am concerned. Little cupids in fishnets and booty shorts would have shot arrows a long time ago. Or something like that. And more than likely we are facebook friends anyway and thus would have hit me up already. Right?.. I mean, why would you swipe right for someone you already have contact with? Which explains “facebook friend” too. As for “threesome?” Here’s the thing: I am not sure where a mostly straight girl is supposed to go for a live toy for her and her man. But for women searching only women, it’s super appalling, gross, and annoying. Or at least it is to me.

Anyway, so after all that fun swiping, I thought, “well, hell, maybe I’m too specific too.” I changed the age from 27-43 to the full 18-55+, and the mileage went from 20 miles to 100. All I can say about that is, there are a hell of a lot more women in the 18-26 range than the 44-55+ range that I was skipping over. And not skipping them over made me feel like an old perv. So… tinder was fun for roughly 1-4 minutes a day for almost a week. Good stuff.

With all that time invested, I’m basically an expert, so here are my online dating tips for Tinder and Plenty of Fish. For lesbians. Specifically lesbians in small communities.

  1. Use your own, actual, clear photo. I like cats and books and beaches. But if you use all pics of cats and books and beaches, I promise you I think that you are hiding. Either you aren’t actually single, or you aren’t actually looking, maybe just creeping, or possibly the least attractive person on the planet. Who has a better shot if i just know you are not conventionally attractive than if i think there is a decent chance that you are a weirdo creeper.
  2. Keep your babies out of your dating profiles. Seriously. I love parents, but just write “mom” in your profile. We all get that that words means you have a child or children. No need to post your kiddo in her elementary school t-shirt. Maybe not ALL the photo-less people are creepers, but I am positive some are.
  3. If there is no possible way that you could be attracted to someone, swipe left. Seems like a no-brainer, but I promise you that deleting a “meh, maybe,” kind of person is way more awkward than just swiping left to begin with.
  4. Keep your facebook profile as secret or public and as you would want a stranger-but-potential-dating-partner to see. I promise you, especially in small communities, people have mutual friends and it is super easy to facebook stalk someone you didn’t know existed 5 minutes ago. Maybe not everyone does this, but i assure you that i do, and it’s really simple.
  5. Go for it. Have fun. And be kind.Just me, 1 mile away.png

Cheers!

 

A Thankful Goodbye

Sometimes in a relationship, a hundred things could be totally right, but if 5 big things are totally wrong, it just might not work. Such is the story of me and the one commonly known on this little blog as “Girlfriend.” In fact, at this particular moment, “Girlfriend” hasn’t been my girlfriend for almost a month and a half. I have posted several things since our breakup, including A Little Bit Country. I wasn’t trying to hide that sometimes relationships fail. Basically anyone who’s had one ever knows that. My reason was two part: A. There was a very small possibility of a reunion. And B. honestly, I just didn’t know what the fuck to say.

I despise airing my own dirty laundry and don’t enjoy when other people do it either. At the same time, most of us live so publicly, people know who other people date, when, where, and even how. So when shit goes south, it’s tricky to  pretend they never existed. I can’t just delete every post in which she was referenced and be like, “What?… Who?…” That was a real relationship with real love, and real value, and real experiences. I acknowledge that. But now it has come to a close and I acknowledge that too.

There is no need to get into the “dirty laundry” portion. You already know. We had some rad times and some bad times. We fought, and argued, and said shitty things, and cried about it. Repeatedly. She did  always said we’d never make it. The first girlfriend is never the last. Maybe she was right. I don’t know. My romantic heart hopes she’s wrong, but who’s to say?

Guys, the thing is, no matter how much I sometimes wanted to totally punch her in the face, that relationship was important – and extra important for me. She found me sort of by accident right when I was newly separated and ready (for the first time ever) to openly date women (and so freaking excited about that.) She let me explore and she genuinely seemed to enjoy watching fresh-outta-the-closet me discover every friggin’ lesbian cliché possible. She was also there when I called my mom and let me cry after my mom cried. She set up play dates for my littles with lesbian mamas. She told me that yes I could keep blogging all my fashion and mommy blog things and have a lesbian blog. For all of this and more I will always appreciate her.  I hope we really do remain friends. She was not the girl for me, but she definitely helped me become the girl I’m meant to be and I wish her the best in all she ever does. Even if she never takes a chance on the “new girl” ever again. 😉

Cheers!

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Derby Practice/Reunion

Ah man, for the first time in quite some time, I am SO excited for roller derby practice. I currently belong to a little league with a whole lot of drama and not a lot of support. I’m not 100% sure why we can’t pull our shit together for 12 consecutive months, but we can’t. That’s that. I could point a finger and blame this person or this leader, but what good would it do? It’s a team. And you are only as strong as your weakest link…. or something like that.

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My girls Patch, Syn and Rosco, with me, #104

I think the heart of it, the heart of any successful derby league, is good ol’ derby love. There is debate within the derby community on whether this should be more team-like or more familial and, honestly, both sides have fair points. The real point is just love. A posse of women of all ages and sizes, supporting and encouraging each other through something that is physically taxing. Somehow that support then reaches into corners of the women’s off track lives, even if unintentionally. Derby girls are fierce. They are powerful. They are also flawed and human. Sometimes that power and competitive nature comes out against one’s own teammates. Sometimes it manifests only in healthy, on-track ways. The greats, are tough beasts on the track that will knock anyone in their way on their ass. They train hard, scrimmage hard, and challenge themselves and their teammates without tearing either down. Once the bout is over, they hug skaters from both teams, pose for photos, expand their ever-growing derby family and get ready for the after party. God damn, derby can be such a beautiful thing.

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Post Bout Photo with the Opposing Team and All Officals

Alas, my own team seems to barely be limping along. It has been one of the biggest aspects of my life for two years. Whether practicing, bouting, volunteering, training, socializing, or supporting, these were my people. I did things i had no idea my body could do. My teammates did too. We all celebrated together. I sweat more than a person would like to admit. They just took pictures and gave me high fives. They were there there for my 30th birthday and took me to a drag show.

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Dressed up for a drag show. Rosco, Action Jackson, me, and Power Bottom

They were there when I just barely came out as a big ol’ gay girl this summer. We went to what is possibly the world’s smallest Pride in a small Idaho town just 30 miles away. We had a blast. One of my teammates and friends also came out this summer. She went too. We were a team. Friends. Family. Support. Hell, a few of the teammates were even lovers. 😉

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Little Tiny Baby Pride with Jilly, me, Kitty, Shots, Rosco and Dirty Dani

Those times seem to be over. Or at least on hold. With moves, injuries, new lives, marriages, babies, derby rosters have a lot of turnover. Or at least ours does. We are down to a feeble few. Tonight though, one of my dearest friends and my derby wife is coming to skate. Quite a few of the OG’s are making an appearance. It’s gonna be glorious. If nothign else, I will feel like I have a team. There will be women there who just love each other and who love to skate. I. Am. So. Excited.

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Roller Derby is Rad. That’s me in the gold helmet. 

A Little Bit Country

As you may have caught on, I like cities. My heart belongs (mostly) in Seattle. I have no intention of ever living anywhere smaller than my current community. It’s no city but with about 50,000 people, we have enough restaurants,  entertainment, bars, events, shows, and shopping to keep me living my preferred life, all with a small enough population to feel family-oriented and safe. That said, there is something you have to love about the country life, or at least in doses.

This weekend GF and I took my littles to our friends’ ranch. GF has known Kirsten and Marie for many years, and their three year old son since he was just a baby. My daughter just adores it out there. They have everything she wants in life: horses, cattle, dogs, cats, wildlife, and wide open spaces. Look at this joy!

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My son in all his 4 years of glory is a tiny gamer and doesn’t particularly care for animals much at all. But look at him go.

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I am so thankful that Kirsten and Marie continue to open up their home to all of us and let my kids experience so much more than I could otherwise offer them. Not only a peak at the ranch life, but the chance to see a beautiful lesbian family. Neither of my children really said anything about it on the last trip, but this time my son, G, brought up how Colton has two moms several times. And he was excited about it. He told GF that he “yikes” two moms and that he loves her. And that it was like he has two moms because she likes me. I’m just retelling what he told my GF, but you get the idea. He does have kids with lesbian mothers in his daycare class, but I don’t think he really ever picked up on it. It’s beautiful to see that he can love his daddy, love his mommy, and still love this new relationship too. He’s both the sweetest and the cutest. Well mostly. Take his shit and he may try to punch you. We’re working on it. 😛

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I’m working on trying to be less helicopter-y in my mothering. The kids are older and love to explore. This weekend I even let them sit (without keys) on a 4-wheeler without me. Baby steps.

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The pure joy and sunshine in their faces from just running and playing and being just as dirty and happy as they please is a delight. I’m really just sharing all these pics so I can remember them always.

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Oh yes and a view and a Sunday morning Bloody Mary for each grown up doesn’t hurt.

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Cheers.

Pub Crawlin’

Around these parts the weekend before St. Patrick’s Day is pretty big deal. Our local main street America program has one of its more jolly fundraisers of the year: a pub crawl. That’s right, friends, I get to don some gay green apparel and drink to my heart’s content all in the name of community involvement and support. I’m actually not kidding. It’s one of the biggest money makers for the organization, and doesn’t take a huge investment on their part. You just walk around to and through our downtown bars with all your favorite homies, and the entry fee includes your cab ride home. Throughout the evening there are some games, prizes, snack, water and, of course, green beer and drink specials. Literally, what’s not to love. If you can’t tell, I’m rather excited.

GF’s last gf wasn’t me and didn’t really share my enthusiasm for the Pub Crawl so this is her very first time to go in the event’s 6 years of existence. I’m delighted to show her the ropes with so many of our favorite people.

All the straight girls are putting a lot of consideration into their outfits; cutting up their free t-shirts into sex kitten masterpieces, constructing poofy, matching tutus and *maybe* buying up every other green glittery hat, headband, and piece of jewelry they can find. That’s not exactly my style and the idea of maintaining a tutus for hours of drinking is my hell, but I figure I should begin putting together my own dyke-chic ensemble. This is what I came up with. c600x715.jpg

It’s perfect for tromping around rather buzzed up, but has my perfect mix of styles and has just a touch of festive rainbow. Hell, i may even wear rainbow socks too.

Happy early St. Patrick’s Day!

Elle

What I Wore Wednesday: Fake Spring & Lesbian Labels

Happy First Wednesday in March, which apparently means basically spring.  In my strange little corner of the Pacific Northwest, it’s a sunny 60 degrees out.

I wore my “nice” black leggings, cuz that’s what I do, with a grey, floral, flowy blouse, a plain white cardigan, and simple black ballet flats all paired with some classic jewelry. I’m feeling a bit easy-breezy-Covergirl.c600x851.jpg

Looking back over my What I Wore Wednesdays, however hit and miss they have been, there is one standing similarity: They are all pretty standard, business casual, feminine outfits. The weeks and weather change but you’re pretty much looking at leggings or skinnies, a blousey top, and feminine shoes.That’s it. Not terrible innovative or exciting. A career in sales in a small, conservative community doesn’t allow for much else. Even my tiny little nose hoop is a push for some clients.

Today I give you two outfit sets: One my work wear… and one that is what I may just wear for a date tonight with that hot blonde of mine.

It’s kind of a confusing thing being a lesbian. It feels sometimes like you have to find your place on this perceived butch-femme spectrum and stick to it. I’m just not about that life. While I don’t anticipate ever coming off as hardcore butch, you definitely aren’t likely to catch me in fake nails with some froofy dress/stiletto combo. But then all the middle ground descriptors are far more complicated than I care to be. Chapstick femme? Butchy femme? Just plain androgynous? I mean, which one is it if I wear lip GLOSS… but with a snap back. I don’t know. A blue jeans femme? I read that once. I don’t even think it’s a thing.  Maybe you have to be a total veteran lesbian to know the answers to these mysteries. Until then I’ll be bouncing around from femme business casual to non-descript sweatpants slob to off-track derby bitch to what my former pastor not-so-fondly calls “lumberjack dyke.” 😉

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Cheers.

Elle