Captain America

After my date with Peter (not his real name…again, protecting peoples identity), I had a bit of a mental breakdown. Peter actually wasn’t a bad date; he was well educated, short, bald…but, whatever, he had nice teeth. I think the part that threw me a little off was that he asked me, three times…in a row…if I was going to grow out my hair.

“Are you going to grow back out your hair?”

“No, I like it short”

“Oh, but, are you going to like…grow it back out?”

“No, it’s easier to take care of short”

“That’s cool, so is it going to get longer?”


…I had to take a slight pause before I responded so I didn’t sound like an asshole…

“Peter, are you going to grow back out your hair?” (winks with both eyes, take a sip of my drink with a smirk on my face)

“Touche, Jess, Touche”

I should have asked him if he was going to grow six inches taller.

I’ll admit, I drove him back to his car after our date, we made out, and it was awkward. He was wearing a hat, you know, to cover his bald head, and it kept hitting my forehead. I just kept saying to myself, “kiss me like you mean it, dammit!” dtrump

He asked me to text him when I got home which was sweet, and I did, but I didn’t text him back after he had texted me in the days following.

After my dates the last few weeks I really started to miss Jake. I think that my broken heart is not fully healed and going out with these short, sub-par guys only opened the wound. Like when you pick at a scab because you’re bored? So, what does one do? Well, go on another date, naturally.

I cancelled my Tinder account because that site is a terrible place for women and for men looking to meet and just have a relaxing, fun night…sans doin it with opposite sex. I kept my account open for funsies even though I was hesitant. Anyway, Thursday night I was perusing through my matches and an attractive red headed fellow came through.  He reminded me of Tormund Giantsbane from Game of Thrones. How neat is that? I want someone to look at me the way Tormund looks at Brienne.

I digress.

I messaged Jordan on Friday and he messaged back. Usually the good looking ones don’t message back, so I was a bit surprised. After talking and exchanging phone numbers we decided to meet on a Saturday night. Which is weird, right? I went with it because I had no plans.

It was a hot Minnesota day, I played with Izzy and was reading ‘The Buddha Walks Into a Bar…a Guide to Life for a New Generation’ – Lodro Rinzler. It’s a good read. I recommend. Then I watched ‘A Few Good Men’ “You cant handle the truth! Son we live in a world that has walls, and those have to be guarded by men with guns. Whose gonna do it you, you lieutenant Weinberg?” LOVE THAT MOVIE.


Jordan picked the place, a bar on the Mississippi in Inver Grove Heights. A little questionable because IGH always smells like pig feet but I agreed. I threw on a pair of white pants and a blue blouse, tousled the hair and threw on a pair of sandals. Spritzed myself with some delicious smelling Flower Bomb, applied some Kylie lip gloss and was out the door.

When I arrived at the destination I had a bit of a flash back because we were at my parents old marina where they docked their first boat. The marina really hasn’t changed in 15 years so the nostalgia of it was pleasant.

I waited for Jordan outside and I saw him walk up. He was about, oh 20 pounds heavier than his pictures. Which is fine but he also had two sleeves of tattoos; also fine, but you should probably denote that on your profile, because he only posted a picture of one arm with a tattoo on his shoulder.

He was wearing a black t-shirt, shorts and chucks. All fine. He was tall and had nice teeth, so I was good. We sat outside and service was sloooooooow. He ordered some kind of beer the lady ordered whiskey. He went on to tell me that was a special agent for Homeland Security. HELL YEAH! Ding, ding…we have a winner!


He was really awesome. He protected children from ass hole stalkers who took advantage of them on the internet…GO JORDAN! We sat, drank, ate nachos and talked for about four hours. Yes, I did talk about Jake and yes I did cry. This is why you don’t bring up the Ex-files on the first date.

I am not sure if we had ‘too’ long of a first date, but I have not heard from Jordan since. Too bad really. He was cool and tall…and fucking awesome.

You win some, you lose some.




The Tinder Experince

Tinder as defined by Urban Dictionary A dating app in which 95% of the guys are looking for casual sex or nudes to jack off to, and 95% of the girls are either looking for bae or just want to make friends…resulting in pretty much consistent disappointment and frustration for both parties.

The Scene: The Happy Gnome

The potential Suitor: A short and little man named..well, we will just call him Tim (to protect his identity).

Tinder is…aggressive. That’s about as good as any word to use. Why did I join? For casual sex, duh. Just kidding. I joined to meet people and meet people I have; enter Tim.

After swiping left on about 100 different men either having a selfie with a large fish or a selfie with a small fish, I came across an attractive gentleman and swiped right. Being new to the Tinder world, I didn’t realize that if the other person swiped right to me, it would bring up this fancy black screen saying “YAY! You’ve been matched!” Then you can talk with said person right away.itsamatch

So, after swiping, talking and exchanging phone numbers, Tim and I decided on happy hour. He said he lived in St. Paul and loved going to the neighborhood bars, so I named off a few local places; for example, The Muddy Pig, and then he seemed confused…”Where is that”? COME ON MAN! Don’t you live in St. Paul? Then I suggested Happy Gnome, which I am still not positive he knew where that was either, but Gnome was the agreed upon place.

I arrived about 15 minutes early because I like to sit, sip on a beverage (Negroni), neurotically think about what my date will look like; will he be short, will he have tiny t-rex hands, will he be wearing socks with sandals, will he have nice teeth? You know, the usual stuff. I also like to sit and stealthy stare at all the gentlemen walking up.

Tim arrived right on time, which was nice, he gave me hug and sat down. Right away I knew it wasn’t going to work. He was short and small. I mean, one of my thighs is bigger than his waist. Here’s the deal, I am 5’8 and I am busty, so I need a man who is taller and has some meat on his bones. I like when a man can grab me and wrap me around in his arms…could Tim do that? No. Could I do that to him? Yes.

Anyway, sitting at Happy Gnome he ordered a fruity cocktail pink drink…no judgement (insert sarcasm) and we had conversation on something, I really don’t remember. Then for whatever reason, we decided to walk down to WA Frost (another bar a resident St. Paulian didn’t know), and he ordered another fruity cocktail and the lady (me) ordered a Jameson on the rocks, and the bartender poured me about a five finger pour, so I knew I was either going to have eat dinner with this guy or call my mother to come and get me.

We started talking about Game of Thrones which is something I could talk about for hours. I then asked if he liked Dexter and he said no… and then I was just too shocked to even continue talking to him, but I had this huge glass of whiskey, so I had to continue on….anyway, then he chugged his drink and checked his phone and said “I don’t mean to be rude, but I have to get back to work.” I gave him the side eye stare and then started fake crying and said, “what am I, a boring date?” Sideeye The bartender was laughing and after I paid the bill, (yes, I paid the bill because, he was too busy on his phone) Tim tried slipping me a $20, I was like “dude, don’t worry about it”. Just a little advice, if a lady has an almost FULL glass of whisky in front of her, DO NOT rush a lady! I mean…really.

Shorty caught up to me and was all “wait, you didn’t finish your drink do you want to go to my place and grill?” “What? You just said you needed to go back to work” Also, no I do not want to go to your house…I just met you. What do I look like? A lady of the night? Grill? Is this code for Doin It?

A few things I learned.

  1. I hate being rushed. HATE IT more than anything. I also hate leaving whiskey at a bar that I did not get to finish…
  2. The average height of a female in the US is 5’4 and the average height of a male is 5’9…soooooo…I have isolated the problem there.
  3. People annoy me and I don’t think I am ready to date yet.

Update – because I know I have so many devout followers.

I had a second date with another short man from Tinder. It went better than the first date; however, I am now off of Tinder…so, if that gives any inclination as to how well it really went, there you go.

Where are all the tall men at?!


7-13-2017 9-00-09 PM



I Can Feel it Comin in the Air Tonight

Slim Pickens as defined by Urban Dictionary, when there is a lack of the opposite sex around. What I like about Urban Dictionary is they always put the word in a thoughtful, yet, appropriate sentence; you know, so you fully understand the meaning of the word. damn dawg it is slim pickens tonight, where are all of the hottiemonjaros? If you’re curious as to the meaning of a ”hottiemonjaro,” I will let you google it.

In a previous post I said I wasn’t going to join a dating site; well, I lied. I joined good ol’ I joined not because I want jump right into another relationship, because I do not, but because I want to meet new people and have some fun. I am 32 dammit, how else am I supposed to meet people?

Perhaps I am trying too hard to find a suitor, but at least I am putting myself out there, you know, I am trying. To entertain myself and to shed light on things I might be doing wrong, I decided to brush up on my dating etiquette compliments of and Both very interesting reads from people who live and breathe all things dating and have encountered more than one neurotic lady. I give you a list of rules that I am repeatedly breaking:

1. Talk about your past relationships. This is a big no-no. If your last boyfriend is all you can thinking to about on a date, perhaps you’re not quite ready to date yet. Take time to get over the last relationship before embarking on the next one. I am very much guilty of this, not so much talking about my ex’s but thinking of them and wishing I were with them instead of being out with said potential suitor.

2. Put out on the first date. If the chemistry’s right, sparks may be flying. You may be tempted to make that first date a sleepover. It’s not the end of the world if this happens, but you’re really interested in this guy, rein in your libido and date smart. Get to know him better before you get in the sack with him. I have never slept with someone on the first date but I have on the second date. I have learned, after two failed “sexy time on D2”, to not give up the cookie so quickly; giving up the cookie too quickly leads to disappointment, broken dreams and lackluster results.

3. High Heels. Guys love gals in sky-high heels, but wedges don’t count. Wait, what?!

4. Height preference. The dating guide details a study where 77 out of 79 women admit they wouldn’t date a man shorter than them. GUILTY! I am 5’8 and I would prefer not to date a man who is vertically challenged, after all, I wear three to four-inch ‘wedges’.

5. Strike a pose. I have isolated the problem. Note to self: Must pose more.

6. Tardiness. Per the dating gurus, this sends out a negative message. BUT how am I supposed to make a grand, perfectly posed entrance if the guy isn’t even there?

After reading the dating guides written by the dating Gods themselves, I am doing a few things right. I like to smile lots, I am proactive, enthusiastic, and, most importantly, myself. According to Eharmony and Match other attributes include: tousled hair, smiling lots, not wearing really tight pants or ordering spaghetti (which I would because I am Italian) and, last but certainly not least, not jumping too quickly into sexy talk.

I will be the first one to admit I have a number of things to work on. I am sure if you polled the most important people in my life they would probably say I am in need of an attitude adjustment. But, let’s focus on the good things; I smile lots and I don’t settle.

I might also be looking in the wrong places to meet said perfect suitor. Not so good spots to meet a man: the gas station, the DMV, a rap concert and weddings. Really awesome spots to snag a tall drink of water: Lake of the Isles, a Lord Huron or Bon Iver concert, Target Field, BlackBlue…so I think it is time to set up a booth at one of these fine locales and prowl for potential suitors. Inquiries may or may not include:

1. Would you consider taking a yoga class?
2. Do you own any Affliction apparel?
3. Do your friends love you as much as you love them?
4. Do you wear socks with sandals?
5. Please describe your talents in spider killing.
6. Do you currently posses a selfie with a large fish?
7. Describe your relationship with your family.
8. When was the last time you visited the dentist?
…but I shall not limit my scope too much.

Yes, I did just get dumped, but I had a wonderful weekend with my sister from another mister, and I am currently obsessively listening to NEEDTOBREATHE and Foy Vance, paging through some very helpful self-help books, which includes a chapter that begins with “Well Fuck”, I mean…who wouldn’t want to read that, loving my job and my team, figuring out to love working out, dreaming of my Italian get-a-way with my parents in September; I should be, by all accounts, blissfully happy but something is missing – I am missing that piece to my puzzle.

Despite my tendency to be a tad anxious and needy, I am blessed with wonderful friends, an AMAZING family, and a job with wonderful co-workers. I am taking a slight repose to strip myself of pre-judgements, common dating mistakes (high heels instead of wedges), and empty calories I am consuming in the twix and kit kat bars I seem to always find myself indulging in. After I figure out what Jess really wants, I will return ready for my next adventure in the quest to find the ultimate partner with whom to share a bountiful life.

Until then, I will be playing Phil Collins and rockin out to some air drums.


Blue Ain’t Your Color

There are not enough adjectives to describe the amount of fun I had over the 4th of July weekend. All it took was my best friend, her cabin, and two small town bars for me to say Jake…Jake who?! When bow tied beckoned philosophers say laughter is the cure for almost anything; specifically a broken heart, they really are speaking truth…well laughter and whiskey let’s not kid ourselves here.

It was a colder day in Siren, WI and we went up to the nightly meat raffle – yes, meat raffle; although a strange tradition, it is quite fun and I won! My first time and I won the meats! After sitting at the bar chatting with the locals and the bar owner, Shannon, my best friend leans over to me and says, “Jessay…isn’t that Mr. Klingsborn”. I was like WHAT? What did you say?! Then I looked at this guy and I was like…excuse me sir, are you Mr….did you teach at Tartan? Then he put his head down in shame and then said “yes, it’s Mr. Hickey”. Then L and I looked at each other with excitement and screamed Mr. Hickey!!! As if he wasn’t already shamed enough, we had to yell in excitement. We have not seen this guy in about 15 years; he looked exactly the same. How strange, right? Running into your high school physical education teacher in a small town bar. If you think the weirdness ends there….you’re sadly mistaken.

The next day it was finally nice out…sun was shining and it was WARM! We took the pontoon out and it was glorious. As we were driving around Clam lake, drinking, enjoying being free…we hear a noise “dummm dummm dummmmm” the engine just dies. “welp, we ran out of gas”. So, there we were…just sitting there, and being me I start calling places with the words “gas” in the name. Then I am the one getting yelled at because I am asking where on the lake we are. “I don’t know nautical directions, Jessay!” Then I was told I am too sensitive, then I didn’t talk for awhile. I am not sensitive! Well, I am…I was just trying to help! Who runs out of gas, though, seriously? Some nice gentleman and his family saved us, but the entire ordeal took about two hours and we ran out of booze right before it happened.

As if the day wasn’t already a wee bit stressful, we go up to Jeds the other small town bar; there are only two. We ordered our drinks, sat outside and L told me a story about her youth, it was probably the only time I was not with her, and we belly laughed for about 10 minutes straight. We ordered a pizza and then this horrid music started playing. This awful heavy metal music and then Sinead O’Connor…Nothing Compares 2 U; are you singing? I had to leave the bar because 1. Sinead made me miss Jake and 2. I cannot listen to heavy metal.

We got in the car and L said, “alright what do you want to do? Should we go to the cabin? Go to Gary’s? Go to The Narrows (the other bar)?” So we went to the Narrows (The Narrows is where we saw our high school gym teacher).

We show up at the Narrows and it was empty except for some really drunk locals, but there was a bonfire and that was pretty neat and warm. We ordered some drinks and then sat by the fire…and then things got real weird real fast. So, these two guys show up on their custom Harley’s, then some other guys show up, and then L and I find ourselves intertwined in toothless hillbilly hell, literally. I didn’t know where I was for a good majority of the evening.

Anyway, as I am sitting co-mingling with these hill people, this attractive man drives up to the bar in this really nice truck. My eyes follow him from the moment he pulled in, to the moment he sat his butt on the bar stool. I just stared at him, probably with my mouth open and drool coming out. He was so attractive…scruff on his face, shaggy hair, sweatshirt, ripped jeans…just a mans, man. He was drinking Coors Light…but I let that slide. I  mean, not everyone is perfect.

I go to the bathroom and Shannon, the bar owner, was in there and I cornered her. “Shannon! Who is that attractive man at the bar?”

“Which one, the one with the gray sweatshirt?”


“Oh, he’s married darlin”

“FUCK! No!”

I go back out to the fire feeling defeated and I make eye contact with Lola, “he is married” and then start fake crying. Lola being the little spark plug she is, went to the bar to order more drinks and she sat and talked to this fine, attractive man. She talked to him for about 10 minutes, leaving me in my own personal hell with these other…men. All of a sudden, I hear Lola say, “Jessay, it’s T!!!” I literally almost fell out of my chair and I ran to him and he gave me the biggest hug. I have not seen this man in 17 years. Let me tell you something about T, he was my first love…my first, you know. HOW FUCKING WEIRD IS THAT! I started crying when he hugged me. I could not believe it.

So, there were about five of us that stayed up until 5am at the bar. Singing, dancing, talking, laughing. T played this country song, and I hate country, but he played Blue Ain’t Your Color by Kieth Urban and he put his arm around me, sang to me and rocked me like a baby. I cried. These tears were cathartic tears. Almost as if I was letting Jake go through my eyeballs, and T was helping me. T was there at the exact moment when I needed him to be.

This past weekend was more than just booze and ghosts of boyfriends past. It proved that I am going to be okay, and that I am a smart, successful, beautiful woman and I don’t need no man. It’s time to focus on what Jess wants.

T, if you ever read this, thank you.

Day 8

I was dumped eight days ago. Seems like forever. I worked out today and I just started bawling as I was doing donkey kicks. You know, that ugly cry. Headphones on; “you son- of- a-bitch, you said you loved me six fucking days ago!” Then I laid on my back and started laughing because I just thought that working out was supposed to release good endorphin’s; apparently it was just making me bi-polar.

I digress…

I had a different blog many moons ago about the wonders of online dating. I looked back at it and laughed, but also remembered how awful online dating really is. I told my best friend the other night – NEVER AGAIN. Not ever. Never, ever.

There was a part in one of blog posts that is still very much apparent today…right now:

“In the dear, sweet, verdant land of 10,000 lakes, I’m slowly sharpening my belief that the smart, handsome, passionate, cultured, hilarious (without being mean), single thirtysomething Twin Citian gentleman is near dinosaur-like extinction. But, on the hopeful, sunshiny days (like today), I stay true to my belief that if I am patient, open, kind and smiling (I’ve been told I have a nice smile), I will one day tap my toes and Mr. Wonderful will be there at my beckoning – equipped for my neurotic personality and my hard to handle ways.”

I am tapping….where is he?!

What I am finding out about heartbreak is this; I am so desperate, so out of control that I am being forced to transform my life, and I am. My heart is literally breaking open so new light can get in. I am being torn apart so another layer can be reveled; a better layer. So, I am thankful for this heartbreak, because it was planned. It was planned to make me stronger and better, but I hope I never lose the bruises that were left behind.

Until tomorrow,



I went to work today. For the first time in about a week; I got up, put on make-up, pretended to care. I tried to silence the violent noise in my head (“it’s not over”, “it ended too quickly”). I put on a performance, I put on a show today – slapped on a smile, made it work.

The one person I wanted to love me stopped believing. He literally just stopped trying. When I was hiding, he could always find me and now, when I need him to find me, he won’t; I am lost and completely heartbroken.

When someone tells you that they don’t love you anymore and they haven’t loved you for a long time, no words can describe that pain. Just like, holy fucking shit…the love of my life, whom I love with every ounce of my being, doesn’t love me back. He just told me this in a fucking text message that I get to read over and over again. It’s as if someone grabbed the sharpest razor and just started stabbing me over and over. Like Season 6 of Game of Thrones when Jon Snow was being stabbed to death, and the final stab by Olly – “your watch has ended” – only for me it was “your relationship has ended”. Looking back, he put on the performance, he put on the show.

jonFuck, man, I really hope I can love again. People are telling me “it will get better, you will get over this and be stronger”. It’s so hard for me to comprehend because we went through so much together. I had brain surgery, we traveled all over the world, we had two dogs that we loved so much…just like…shit (I mean, not like poop…but, you know). We just went through so much and it’s over…so over.

That’s all for now.