So, I'm at the laundromat again. I go every week. I hate it. It really is the bane of my existence. I knew I should have bought a washer and dryer two years ago. My reasoning for not getting one was that my situation was temporary. I never thought, in a million years, that I would still be single in the suburbs. Honestly.

 

I'm not sure why I would think that? I live in a little bedroom community in a neighborhood full of happy families with young children. I drive 600 miles per week (at least) for work and I go right to the gym after work. Then, I go home, eat, shower, and go to bed. Exciting stuff. Aren't you glad you're not single?

 

People always ask me what I like to do for fun? Well, if I were making my sales person job money, I would be debt-free (Maybe. Who's kidding who?), living in the city, and eating out whenever I want. In fact, when I was living in the city, my sisters came to visit and noted my extensive spice rack. One of them asked, "What's up with all the spices? You don't cook." "All part of the façade," I sassed back.

 

Can I just tell you? You must know I'm a domestic failure. I'm pretty clean; although, I'd love to fire my cleaning lady. If I win on one of my (many) scratch tickets, her ass is out and I'm going to get someone good. I hate washing the floors. I tend to spot clean with Windex if there is a problem. I try not to wear shoes in the house so the floors only need attention quarterly. Dusting happens only when I'm expecting male company. (Like they're going to notice. Please. I am my mother.) Sometimes that goes longer than quarterly. I haven't turned on the stove in 3 months or more. In fairness, it's been hot.

 

I can cook and sometimes I get in moods when I really like it but, that's usually the winter. I don't have as many choices on where to eat as I did when I was living in the North End so, I'm forced to do it myself in the burbs. I'm getting good at soups, you just throw everything in a pot and let it boil. I do cook when I'm dating someone. So, I am trying.

 

Anyway, the cast of characters here is always unsettling. One woman who worked here always told me she was going to steal my outfits. That I was wearing. That was comforting. Her kid worked here too, she liked to sing, at the top of her lungs. That wasn't the least bit annoying. (Fingernails on a chalkboard. Who the F wants to hear that? Seriously. She wasn't even that good!) The mom took the cake, though. It got to the point where I'd ask my sister to call me so, I wouldn't have to talk to her. Occasionally, if Marya was not available, I would hold the phone up to my ear and pretend to be intently listening to someone really interesting. (Not that my sister isn't interesting, I laugh more on the phone with her.) I know that's not nice but she would confide in me and tell me about everything that was wrong with the laundromat. I already knew. I didn't need someone else to remind me why I shouldn't be there.

 

It really has continued to go downhill. I'm guessing this is an opportunity in my life for growth and a better sense of humility. Now, I color my own hair. I went from Newbury Street to an at-home self-colorist in my petite bathroom. It's expensive! I have to color it every 4 weeks, it grows like a weed. It's anywhere from $80 - $300 at the salon, depending on what I want done. I have seriously been considering letting it go gray. My sisters have emphatically said, "No! Too young." I started graying when I was a teenager. It's been an expensive upkeep. Not now. 16 bucks every few months. I don't even have to tip. Yes, I paint my own nails, too. I'm not sure I'd pay the kind of money I used to pay (if I had it!) to have someone else do it, though. (That was a little cray cray.)

 

So, I do have a tiny room in my apartment where a washer and dryer could go but, only a camp size unit would fit. Wouldn't it be just my luck to buy one then move a few months later? I suppose that wouldn't be the worst thing that could happen… I guess I should start shopping and, while I'm at it, start cooking.

The dating game has definitely changed. Apparently, right under my nose. I'm tired of it already. My friends are loving my Tinder account. It's a fun game for them, especially Alison. She's always encouraged me to participate in the online dating scene. I was on Match for a very short time because I didn't like my choices. She scoffed at that and grabbed my phone to check out who was on there. After 5 minutes, she just shook her head and agreed with my assessment. Now that I have the Tinder app, she loves to "drive" and play the game. During our last visit, she swiped right all over the place. In Rhode Island! Some of them connected and I had to tell them that was just too far. She's married and, I think, thanks her lucky stars that she doesn't have to do the Tinder, OK Cupid, or Plenty of Fish ridiculousness.

 

I hate to be alone in the search so, I encouraged 3 other single friends to join. All joined yesterday between a BC football game and a dinner party. I was feeling persuasive. All three women loved the app. (I did too when I first started. I'm a little disenchanted now.) We surfed a lot of the day, sharing phones and swiping left and right for each other. It was more fun after the 5th bottle of wine. (There were 7 of us.) The ones with significant others, felt relief, I'm sure.

 

I told my dinner crew about my gym pervert and shared the shameful picture he sent me. Well, apparently, that's a thing because one of the other women got a similar picture. Can I just tell you? Her guy showed half his penis! So she could see the girth, I'd imagine. My eyes almost popped out of my head. He then asked her if she'd let him come on her face. Can you imagine? Shame on him. The first thing that popped into my head was, "He's going to make someone go blind." What kind of parents raised someone with that kind of behavior??? My mother would kill my brother if he ever did that to someone!

 

Someone posed the question, "Are you good at sex?" to everyone. Most answered, "I don't know." My gut reaction was to answer, "no." I really have no idea. I don’t have it enough, first of all. I'm lucky if it's once a year. I thought, for sure, that cobwebs might be growing "down there." I was very concerned that it would stop working at one point. You know what they say, "use it or lose it." Anyway, the next part of the question was, "who's good at blow jobs?" I am not very good nor do I really care to give them. Part of the reason is because, who the hell knows what to do exactly? There are very few women who genuinely like to give them. Most of us do it because we care for the man. A LOT. Gentlemen, if you find a lady that's really into it, it's probably a good idea to hold onto her.

 

I bought a book titled, Passionista, recently. (Via Amazon. Who buys that stuff in person? One of my friends bought the rabbit recently and was embarrassed to show it to me. When she finally pulled it out of its discreet packaging, we both fell over in a fit of giggles.) Anyway, I thought I may need it for one of my prospects. (That quickly fizzled into zero prospects…) I zipped through the book and learned some of the secrets to what men want in the pelvic region. It was really interesting and quite an eye opener. I had been WAY off base. (Now, I just need someone to practice with!) So, I felt the need to share my new-found knowledge with the ladies, ages 38 to 61. All have had long term relationships and two have children. I told them the frenulum is the key. "The what????" they said in unison. Another said, "look for that vein that sticks out, that's the sweet spot." We had a lot of fun with the word. As we talked about it, it was the frendula, the frenulla, the frenema, the fra la la, etc. and laughed every time the word came up. I suspect men are no different. They have no idea what to do with our business, either. So, apparently, the key is pressure, friction, and hitting that sweet spot. We'll see. Who knows when I'll go there. I don't feel like doing Tinder anymore. We're starting to get into the holiday season. Nobody wants to start dating someone new now.

 

When did dating change so much? Or, has it always been this way and I hadn't noticed? I was on Tinder this morning and came across a cute guy who was looking for someone "punk, bi, adventurous, lots of tattoos, into an open relationship, and dirty." Please. My stomach tightened. Men and women are becoming more and more desensitized. Anything goes. Is that a good thing? I don't want that. Where the heck am I going to find someone who just wants someone nice? Besides church. I don't want that either. I want someone a little fresh that I'm physically attracted to that my mom would approve.

 

My eight ball tells me, wholeheartedly, that I'm going to find my soulmate on Tinder. We'll see.