The 10 Commandments of Dating Apps

Before I had downloaded my first dating app, I knew I would encounter some less than desirable people. That’s a risk you take with dating in general, but especially on a dating app where you could encounter literally anyone. I had also watched my fair share of Catfish.

Catfish did not prepare me for the total lack of social etiquette that follows talking to and/or meeting someone from a dating app. I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve thought: what would your mother think?!

So, from me to you, here are some commandments of basic communication when talking to/meeting someone online. All commandments are based off of things that have actually happened to me. (Yes, really.)

1. Thou shalt not open with a sexual comment.

Also, thou shalt not react horribly when your comment is rejected. If a woman is looking for a hook up – inappropriate message away. You do you. But if a woman specifies she is not looking for a hook up…please don’t. No one ever has said or will say, “Well, son, I met your dad online – I knew he was the one after his first words to me were a compliment on my blowies.”

2. Thou shalt not start with mansplaining.

Listen, dude, no woman is on a dating app for your advice on dating as a single mom or posting more solo pictures. It’s not charming. If I want your advice, I’ll ask for it – which will never happen unless I’ve known you for at least 10 years.

3. Thou shalt not try to date other people in your match’s pictures.

I know my friends/sisters are beautiful. Duh. But somehow not charming to start a conversation already making a back up plan for things not working out. Also, if I don’t like you enough for it to not work out…my beautiful friends/sisters have already heard about all of your negative traits and don’t like you, either.

4. Thou shalt keep a less than traditional fetish to yourself until you actually know someone.

No screen shots for this one. You’re welcome. I’ve had messages asking to be dominated, to dominate me, one dude talked about wanting to touch my feet (which if you know me at all, you know that’s my nightmare). I think my favorite one recently was where a guy told me he worked at a dildo factory. Not just any dildo factory, but one called Bad Dragon. Google at your own risk, but if you’d like to save your eyeballs – it’s a website where you can buy sex toys based on mythical creatures. I’m sorry, if you’re into a rubber dragon peen – it’s gonna be a no from me.

5. Thou shalt not overshare.

Obviously, when you’re getting to know someone – you want to tell them the important things. If there’s a crazy negative thing in your past, I will want to know about it…eventually. Please learn what is and isn’t appropriate to tell someone upon meeting them for the first time. If you were expelled from high school for bringing explosives…not appropriate conversation for a first meeting, unless you want me to know you will potentially murder me. If you were a former meth addict and dealer…not appropriate conversation for a first meeting, unless you are using a dating app to find a new dealer/deal-ee. (Okay I guess the word would be “buyer”, but I like “deal-ee”)

6. Thou shalt not treat your match like they’re already your exclusive significant other upon your first meeting.

We are literally strangers. Even if we’ve been talking for weeks/months…we have not even seen each other in person until now, so I am not your girlfriend. Trying to take a selfie with me to send to your parent on our first meeting is not appropriate, and your parent should be concerned.

7. Thou shalt not make negative comments about the fact that your match is a parent.

Thanks for the compliment that you’d take me seriously as a potential mate if I did not have a child. Really, tell me more about how much you wouldn’t date someone who’s a parent. Not everyone wants to date a parent – and that’s totally fine. Making rude comments – not fine. I want to send these kind of things to their mothers SO BAD. She should have grounded your ass more as a kid.

8. Really, don’t overshare.

If we’re meeting, I do want to get to know you. I really do. However, I really believe you have to put your more unsavory facts out there in phases. It’s not being dishonest, it’s just making sure someone is interested and likes you before you say something crazy. For example, saying you were involved in a drug related shooting and insisting that I feel the BBs (bee bees?) left under your skin is maybe not great. Also telling me you almost killed someone (literally, on purpose)…not. great.

9. Thou shalt tell thy date if you notice they may be having an allergic reaction to something.

I could post the picture that goes along with this story, but I won’t for now. Suffice it to say that I looked like Will Smith in Hitch and did not know until I caught my reflection across the room. “I thought your lip looked a little weird…” YEAH. A LITTLE.

10. Thou shalt not FaceTime unannounced after you get a phone number.

Really, it’s just rude. I’m vain enough to need a minute to make sure I don’t look crazy. Also, if you try to do this in the middle of the afternoon on a week day – you’re not allowed to get mad that I don’t answer because I AM AT WORK.

If these 10 are too much to keep track of, just try to interact in a way that wouldn’t embarrass your mother/grandmother. Because if you think I’m not crazy enough to find your mom on social media and send her some of this stuff…you are sorely mistaken.


The F-Word.


There, I said it.

Did you gasp? Did you want to stop reading? Did your feelings about me change?

Stick with me here, if you haven’t stopped reading already. I have some good stuff to say (or at least I think it’s good stuff, I guess that’s up for debate).

I’ve been debating on writing something like this for a while, just because I’m honestly not a fan of posting my opinions/beliefs anywhere. I don’t like the online arguing, the comment threads where strangers bash each other and no one actually tries to understand another point of view. I’d rather have a one on one conversation where we can honestly try to understand each other. I’m not writing this to argue with anyone. I’m writing this because I feel like feminism has such a negative connotation to some people, and I really want to explain it better. And explain why it’s not a bad thing to be.

I first considered myself a feminist after my divorce. I never really thought about it while I was married; I spent a lot of that time wrapped up in forming my identity around my husband’s. After my divorce, I felt kind of lost. I spent more time than I’d like to admit just frozen, not knowing which way to move. I got married at 18, and trying to figure out who you are as an adult with a 1 year old after that, at 23/24, is rough. Add that on to feeling like I was more free than I had been in a long time, and it was a recipe for disaster at first. I made some bad decisions. I was more wild than I should have been. I was lucky enough to have family who loved me anyway during that time. Ultimately, things started blowing up in my face. Some of my bad decisions ended up affecting me in my workplace, and resulted in me losing a friend. A close family member told me I was starting to leave my daughter too much. It’s not a time in my life that I’m proud of for those reasons – I’ve had to work on forgiving myself and reminding myself that I don’t have to feel bad forever for dealing with things the way that I did. This combination of things finally got me to a point where I decided that it was up to me to get my shit together and take care of myself and my daughter. In deciding to straighten up and be the best role model for my daughter that I could, I decided to be a feminist. By this, I mean deciding that I could be enough on my own, and I didn’t need a man in my life to provide for me. To me, feminism then meant working my ass off to show my daughter that women can be and do anything.

My definition of feminism has changed since then. It means something different to me all the time. It changed when my daughter decided she wanted to be a corpse bride for Halloween at 4 when all the other girls in dance class were princesses:

Feminism means you can be any type of girl you want, and whatever you decide is awesome. It means being proud of your choice and confident in it – and if this picture doesn’t show that, I don’t know what does. She was proud and confident because I was proud of her and supported her totally.

The definition of feminism changed for me when I realized the games my daughter happens to love (Minecraft & Five Nights at Freddy’s) are mainly marketed towards boys. The “girl” products you do find are sure to be made pink, because somehow that makes the game…girly? I don’t want my daughter to ever feel like she’s out of place because she likes things that are marketed for boys. Being a feminist means letting my daughter know that games and toys are gender neutral in our home – and trying to fight for others to see it neutrally too so she doesn’t get treated differently. This isn’t just for situations with my daughter either – it’s for situations where boys like something that’s considered a “girl” thing, so there are not a lot of “boy” products. Feminism to me is about it being equal across the board – not just special things for girls.

The definition of feminism changed for me when our president stepped into office. Even if you support him, hear me out – is he the kind of person you’d want your daughter alone in a room with? For me, he isn’t. He has a history of predatory behavior. Being a feminist is trying to do better for the future so we do have leaders we’d trust with our own kids. The women’s march changed what feminism means to me. I felt so proud of women coming together to let other women know they weren’t alone. There are women who think it was stupid, that we didn’t need it – and that’s totally your prerogative. But feminism means I will still fight for you and your place in the world, no matter what. Women don’t have to agree with each other. We don’t even have to like each other. But as women, I absolutely love when we can come together and support each other and lift each other up. For me, feminism means just that: putting aside our differences and supporting each other, and supporting equality between men and women.

I saw a video earlier where a woman said “feminists have a deep seated problem with men” and we “want men to be feminized lapdogs”. For me, and all the feminists I know, nothing could be farther than the truth. I don’t have a problem with men. I love men – I love them so much I’m always trying to get involved with ones who need me to fix/save them. Those statements are probably by someone who has never actually spoken to a feminist and just uses the “crazy” ones as a generalization for all. My problem is with women being treated as less than, by men or women. My problem is men or women trying to make women fit into one nice box, when women aren’t meant to just be one thing. I want men and women both to forget the stereotypes or ideals for women (and men too). Anyone who wants a man to be a “feminized lapdog” probably just has a fetish for that type of thing – you do you, boo.

So, do me a favor – the next time you hear the f-word and start to have a bad taste in your mouth about it, try thinking “believer in equality for women and men” instead. It just may change your perspective on who you’re talking to.


A well-adjusted kid and a not so well-adjusted Mom.

Last weekend, another mom told me about part of a conversation she overheard between my daughter and hers. “Your daughter was giving my daughters some good advice,” she said with a smile on her face, letting me in on the joke. “We were talking about how the order of events in life should be college, then marriage, then having kids. Brynn stopped us and said ‘no, you fall in love, kiss, then have babies and then break up.'” I laughed, maybe too loud. Oh isn’t it hilarious how Brynn talks like an adult?!

Moments later, after the other mom had walked away, I turned to my mom in tears. “Did I warp my daughter?” Surely I have scarred her 7 year old brain if she thinks you break up after you have kids. She doesn’t know it’s supposed to be “happily ever after”. She doesn’t know the parents are supposed to stay together to be a parenting team and raise a kid in a healthy home. Now she’s just going to be looking for a sperm donor if she wants to have kids and not an actual partner because she’s never had a good example of what a healthy marriage/relationship looks like and please, Lord, don’t let this make her into a stripper.

Clearly, I had a little bit of a breakdown over her innocent comment. My mom reassured me that I did not warp my daughter, but I needed more time to overthink it all. How can an issue possibly be resolved if you don’t overthink about it for at least a week?

After having some time to process, I’ve decided to believe her comment wasn’t a bad thing. I don’t believe it’s a bad thing that I haven’t hammered “college, marriage, kids” into her head (especially considering she’s only 7). Everyone has a different path, and I don’t ever want her to feel bad if hers doesn’t mirror the “ideal”. She has told me before that she doesn’t want to have kids, and I’ve assured her that that’s okay. If she doesn’t want to get married, that’s okay too. Do I hope that she’ll make better choices than I did in life and not follow the path I did? Of course. I think every parent hopes that for their kids. But ultimately I want her to be happy, healthy, and loved.

As for thinking you break up after you have kids – I am still sad that’s been her experience in life. I don’t think that will ever change. I wish it could have all worked out differently. But, I am glad she doesn’t feel weird about it. To me, that comment means she doesn’t feel like something abnormal happened to her. She doesn’t feel like things didn’t turn out the way they should have. And I am thankful for that. I’d feel worse if she was embarrassed that she had divorced parents or felt sad about it. She sees it as her norm, and I’m at least glad that could come out of the situation. If she was older when we split up, I might not have been so lucky.

It’s hard to raise a kid. It’s hard to feel like you’re doing a decent job at raising a kid. But realizing my kid is pretty well adjusted for what our situation is/has been is the closest I’ve been to feeling like I’m doing a decent job raising a functional human being.


Dear Daughter

Dear daughter,

We had a conversation yesterday that I didn’t expect to have while you were in first grade. I was hoping I’d get lucky and we’d never have a conversation like this, but unfortunately that’s just not the world we live in today. I don’t think you knew how to approach me about it, or maybe you felt embarrassed, but you started the conversation by writing me notes on a little whiteboard we have. “Can I ask you something?” “Of course!” “You know my legs?” “Yes, I made them.” “Do you think they’re chubby?”

You can’t imagine how much this made my heart sink, little B. I wanted to protect you from the world and the body image issues as long as I possibly could. I felt guilty, and still do, thinking maybe I had not complimented or built you up enough in your 6 years.

I stopped the writing back and forth, and told you your legs are perfect, and asked why you would even think that. “My friend at school said my legs are big. And when I sit they go splat.” I first told you that friends don’t say things like that to each other. I so hope that you learn in this life that it is not okay for people, especially ones we consider friends, to critique your body. I will never stop telling you that your body is no one else’s business and I hope that you really, truly hear me. Your opinion on your body is the only one that matters.

Next, I told you that your legs are perfect. I should know, I made them. And God made them. Every person was built perfectly the way they were supposed to be made, and your legs are absolutely perfect. I told you that your legs are built strong, and you need strong legs for how much you dance and run and jump. It is a good thing to have a strong body that accommodates all you want to do. I also assured you that everyone’s thighs “splat” when they sit. If they didn’t, we’d all have logs for legs, and how comfortable would that be? That made you laugh, but I hope you hold on to that forever. My thighs were the part of my body that I was most self conscious of growing up (thanks to a middle school boy telling me they were “cottage cheese thighs” when I sat), and I wish I really would have realized it was silly sooner. If I would have just looked around, I’d have realized that because thighs are built like thighs, literally all of them change shape when people sit. Please realize this. Please never think anything bad about your body shape because it is shaped like a body.

I wish I could follow you around every day of your life and tell you how perfectly you are made. Women’s bodies are magic, no matter what shape or size they come in. I wish I could make you see yourself through my eyes forever. I know the self consciousness will come with time and teenage hormones, and our conversations will get even worse than this one. I wish I could protect you from that. But I hope no matter what, you will always know I’m standing in your corner, cheering your name, and willing to tell you you’re beautiful when you don’t believe it. Every day, forever.

And for now, I will also be cheering your name and yelling at your “friend”‘s mother when I see her next about what a rude asshole her kid is. You have me for yelling at people, too, until you’re old enough to say, “mom, please stop, I think they’re calling the cops.”

Love you always. 


How to lose a guy in 1 date.

Now that it’s been about a year since this happened, let me tell you a little story about the first guy I met from a dating app. This guy ended up kind of gradually stopping talking to me, and looking back, it was probably rightfully so. This story is a little embarrassing, but let it be a lesson to you in not dating too soon after a break up.

The breakup was so complicated, I couldn’t tell you for sure how long after it this meeting took place. 3 months? 4 months? 5 months? Do you measure from the last “I love you” or the decision to end things? Needless to say, it was a weird, drawn out thing, and in my mind there was a timeline for when I should be ready to date again – and this was it. So I downloaded Bumble after my sister told me about it. I had never done dating apps before (had sworn I never would) but I figured giving it a shot was better than being lonely.

The first guy I started talking to and felt like I would have chemistry with – we’ll call him Salt N Peppa. I’m sure he’s long since forgotten about me and will never see this blog, but I like giving people nicknames, so indulge me. He was older than me by probably 7 or 8 years, but was really attractive and was the creative type (for some reason, creative type is always my thing – musician, artist, person-who-can-make-something-with-welding…I dig it). Also, tattoos. He had also been divorced, and we seemed to have a lot in common. Plus he said he was a feminist (swoon). We decided to meet, so he picked the place and I almost threw up from nerves.

The first mistake I made was being late. I know there are people who are always early and get mad when people are late…and I always hope I’m not meeting someone like that because I am always late. It’s not that I’m rude – I swear the part of my brain that estimates time is just broken. I think it’ll take me 10 minutes to get somewhere that it actually takes 30 minutes to get to. Well, it so happens that Salt N Peppa is an early guy and seemed annoyed that I was late, even though part of the reason I was late was that I got lost. Downtown can be really confusing, okay? The directions part of my brain is also broken.

Besides the waitress commenting that she thought I was going to stand Salt N Peppa up, the date actually went pretty well. He actually looked like his pics and was funny. We got along well, I thought. He didn’t seem to judge me for eating my pizza like a cavewoman. He kind of talked about his ex a lot – enough to where I was able to find her Instagram pretty easily (oh hold your judgement, Judgy McJudgerson, if you say you don’t do that you’re a liar) – but I didn’t think anything of it really. When you’re divorced, it’s not out of the ordinary to trade divorce stories. It’s like moms who trade birth stories – we like to know someone else has also gone through a really unpleasant thing and compare scars. We talked about a concert we both wanted to go to months away, and we talked about getting together again at the end of the date so I assumed this was the start of something that could actually be good.

Well, it wasn’t. 

He ended up cancelling on our second date, and then gradually just stopped responding to me. I am too proud to text and ask “hey, do you not like me now or what?” so I stopped texting also. My ego was a little hurt, just because I actually did like him and I didn’t know what I did to make him not like me. It has been pointed out to me that with the dating app culture, it is easy to drop someone if something better comes along – which hurt my feelings even more. I think I’m a catch, dammit.

So where did this go wrong? It took a while, but I realized it went wrong with me trying to get comfortable too fast. The relationship I had just gotten out of – there was no real “getting to know you” time, because he’s someone I’d known for 20+ years. It was comfortable from the start. Once you’re so comfortable with someone it’s hard to remember that it’s not like that with everyone. So I talked too much about problems with my baby daddy at the time. I sent pictures of drawings my kid did, which seems so inappropriate to me now that I’m blushing as I write this. I don’t think I talked about the last ex too much, but my brain was broke at the time so I probably actually did. I’m sure I seemed like a stage 5 clinger and a damn weirdo. I never took into account that meeting someone from a dating app is a lot different from real life in that it takes longer to get to know and get comfortable with someone. My problem was that I had recently lost a best friend and I wanted to fill that void with whoever was unfortunate enough to show me any interest. It’s like replacing a missing limb with a broomstick. It’s silly and it doesn’t work for anyone.

The moral of the story is – wait until you’re actually ready to date someone after a break up. Don’t try to force yourself into being ready just because you think you “should” be. If it takes a while, it takes a while. At least you’ll be recovering by yourself instead of inviting yourself to live with someone after a week. Which I totally didn’t do. Totally.


Sugar Daddy Dating App.

In my dating app experience, I have been pretty willing to try different apps. The first was Bumble thanks to my sister talking about it (and loneliness), but I’ve downloaded a plethora of other ones. Ok Cupid, Hinge, Coffee Meet Bagel, Clover…you name it, I’ve probably tried it. (Except Tinder…I like to pretend because I haven’t done that one my standards are sooo high.) But it had never occurred to me to see what was on dating apps for “different” lifestyles. Until now.

I was on Instagram one day, and one of the “sponsored posts” was for an app that helps sugar daddies and sugar babies (gag, I know, I feel gross using that term) meet. Now, I have made jokes about finding a sugar daddy, but I was honestly kind of surprised an app like this existed. I guess I shouldn’t have been, because, ya know, the Internet, but I was intrigued. Do people actually use apps like this? Are sugar daddy relationships that popular these days? Why in the hell is Instagram suggesting this to me? So…I found myself downloading Seeking Arrangements.

Now, my intention was never to actually meet or get involved with anyone. If you love this kind of thing, you do you – there’s a lid for every pot and all that. If someone wants to pay me to be pretty and this arrangement doesn’t involve any “sugar” (cringe), cool! But I just don’t think I have it in me to have this kind of arrangement. I am fiercely opposed to women being treated like objects and that’s always what this has seemed like to me. My intention was honestly just to satisfy my curiosity. I have never met a sugar daddy or sugar baby and I love collecting weird stories to share with you guys, so here we are.

I didn’t put a whole lot in my bio – pretty generic, vague stuff. I did put in two pictures just so my stuff wasn’t blank. I picked a cleavage-heavy one and one I took in my sexy Harry Potter Halloween costume. If sexy Harry Potter doesn’t float your boat, I don’t know what will. I thought about lowering my age because I don’t think most sugar daddies are looking for women in their late 20s, but whatever WOMEN CAN AGE AND IT SHOULDNT BE FROWNED UPON BY MEN WHO PERPETUATE UNREALISTIC BEAUTY STANDARDS AND I WANT TO YELL ABOUT IT ALL DAY.

One of the first things I noticed was that some men get really specific about what they’re looking for. This felt a little too much like buying a bride to me. Or like I’m a show dog – they’re one step away from opening my mouth to examine my teeth. People are like this on regular dating apps too, don’t get me wrong, but here it just seems more creepy.
I got the teeth, but little feet? Psh. I got them Shaquille O’Neal feet. 

I did get quite a few messages, which I guess is nice for an old sugar baby (shudder). A lot of the messages involved people being very straight forward about wanting to pay for you, basically. This raised a lot of questions about where the line is between prostitution and sugar daddy relationships.

What if my friend is a dude? Do we have to split this $100? Is your brother cute? Is this a plot so you both can date rape me and my man friend? I have a lot more questions before I say yes. Also, this was his very first message to me. At least pretend you want to get to know me. Side note: this dude had something pretty funny on his profile that I knew I HAD to post:

I got approached by a couple, which I also think ventures into the “we’re wanting to buy a prostitute but don’t want to call it that because we’re classy” territory.

I mean I don’t know the going rates, but I feel like $250 is a little low for a couple. I really wanted to post the picture of this couple because it’s just so awesome and repulsive, but I decided for privacy’s sake not to do it. But let me paint you a picture: imagine a 40 something, scantily clad woman with fake boobs and black hair who would be at home in a biker bar. Now imagine she is inappropriately touching an almost naked older white dude with man boobs. You’re welcome.

Last but not least, there are men on there who have the attitude like you owe them something right off the bat.

Surprisingly no, literal stranger, I cannot FaceTime a potential sugar daddy at my desk, nor would I want to. Especially when I assume this would not be an innocent FaceTime to ask me how my day is going. This attitude could send me into a giant feminist rant, but that’s a post for another day.

Conclusion: I am not cut out to be a sugar baby (throws up in mouth), and people on the internet just get weirder and weirder the more you are on it. My curiosity is satisfied for the rest of my life. Unless you want to pay me to look pretty at my house, away from you, and I never have to talk to you or see you – then we can talk. 


Awkward Date Story Time

Since I have decided to stop the dating apps (for now – ask me again in about a week when I feel lonely again), I figured I would entertain you with a story about the most awkward first date I’ve had from a dating app.

I met this guy on Bumble – I honestly can’t remember his name, so we’ll call him the photographer. The photographer seemed nice enough. He also had a kid, and seemed to be fairly involved with her. I had only met one guy from a dating app before this guy, and he hadn’t met anyone at all before. We bonded over our inexperience with dating apps, and talked for a couple weeks before meeting was mentioned. 

On a night I happened to not have my daughter, he texted me wanting to meet. He told me that his friend had just gotten back from Africa and was having a get together at his house for friends and family to tell all his Africa stories. He invited me to stop by. He acknowledged that it was a weird way to meet someone, but he also knew sometimes people feel more comfortable meeting for the first time with other people around. 

Now, maybe this was naive of me, but because this guy had previously sent me a bible verse, I assumed he meant his friend was on a mission trip to Africa. Like…a church thing. So I assumed this would be a safe outing. I figured at the very worst, there would be enough people there that I could sneak out unnoticed if it went bad.

I was wrong on both accounts.

My first red flag should have been that the street the house was on was dark and empty. Definitely not as many cars as there should have been for the get together he described – in fact, only 2 in the driveway. I thought it was strange but the street was really dark so I figured I just missed seeing more cars or something. I texted the photographer that I was there, and he came out to get me. The smell of alcohol on him hit me before he was very close. I’m not opposed to drinking – but not what I was expecting the night to be like. I brushed it off and ended up in an awkward half-handshake/half-hug greeting.

Like this.

He told me everyone already left. I’m not sure why, since it wasn’t late (maybe 630 or 7), but it did make me a little uncomfortable. Not uncomfortable enough to leave, of course, because I’m apparently an easy target for a date rape. We walked into the house, and it was empty except for two kids and a very drunk man. The very drunk man turned out to be his friend (who owned the house we were in), and the kids turned out to belong to him. The photographer offered me pizza and a beer, and we went in the backyard to eat – with one of the kids, a girl who was probably around 5 or 6. Instead of the get-to-know-you small talk that first dates usually consist of, we were treated to songs from the little girl and stories about the stuffed animals she brought out to us. Part way through this, who should call me but my daughter. She persistently asked where I was and who I was with when I tried to brush her off with “I’m at a friend’s house”. I haven’t spoken to my daughter about me dating, really. Not since my ex (not her dad) moved out of our house and it was a really big deal. Plus she was at her dad’s, which makes it even more awkward to say something about being on a date. But I can’t not answer her call – even if it was a pointless call about what she did on Minecraft today. During the phone call I was blushing so bad from being uncomfortable that I was literally sweating. It was definitely a “did I put on deodorant today”/try to smell your underarms discreetly moment.

Before too long, the little girl dragged us inside to watch her do a dance. This was by far the most awkward part, because her dad had put on sunglasses while he laid on the couch so it looked like he was watching her when he was really passing out. Like a really sad version of Weekend at Bernies. At this point my mom side is coming out and I’m encouraging this strange little girl to keep putting on her show because I feel so bad. The photographer seems completely comfortable this whole time. He doesn’t seem embarrassed that his friend is being a douchey drunk dad. In fact, he tried to get the little girl to wrap up her show a little faster which made me a little mad. Let her perform! She has to practice for when she’s older and becomes a stripper from her daddy issues!

After the dance, we went back to the backyard to play ping pong with the kids. Douchey drunk dad stayed inside, passed out on the couch. During the game we attempted to do the first date small talk, and I got enough information to gather that he doesn’t pay child support for his kid or see her super regularly (red flag #384). However, our chat was interrupted by one of the kids getting on the ping pong table and refusing to get off. For some reason, the photographer felt comfortable enough to be stern with these kids. I just stood there awkwardly, wondering if it was late enough to say I needed to go pick up my daughter. He told the kids to go to bed, at which point their dad actually got up and enforced this. I think I hugged both of the kids goodnight, because they just seemed like they needed some love. I just can’t turn off the mom instincts. 

After the kids went to bed, I said I had to go. He apologized that it was a little awkward, and seemed like he wanted to kiss me but I shut that shit down. If you make me a babysitter of two kids and two drunk men on a date, you don’t get a kiss. You get a middle finger as I pull out of the driveway.

I ended up telling the photographer that I just didn’t feel a connection and wasn’t interested in getting together again. I guess that’s a little nicer than saying “you made me feel more awkward than I’ve ever felt in my entire life, please avoid this mistake with the next girl you meet”.