Dating
Jenny True
I have something to confess: I'm happy and in a relationship. I KNOW. I HATE ME, TOO. It's the fucking death knell of a snarky blog about online dating.
On Saturday I turned 40. Also on Saturday, the Oakland Medical Center sent me a mammo-gram.
I got my eyes checked last week. Dr. Jue said I have the worst vision of any of his current patients.
On Tuesday, September 13, 2016, at 12:50 a.m., I was literally I AM USING THAT WORD CORRECTLY PAY ATTENTION MILLENNIALS jolted by a 3.5 earthquake.
For the past four months, Strong Jawline, my current provider of intercourse, has been telling me I'm pretty.
I've never been accused of such a thing. In 39 years I've been called "striking," "Mediterranean," and "similar to Peter Sellers."
My free time these days is split between trolling dating sites for people I know, peeing on a stick to see whether I'm ovulating, and recording conversations with Strong Jawline, who remains the top candidate to impregnate me (NOVEMBER 2016: SEX WITH A PURPOSE).
I've decided to have a baby with a stranger.
In 53 days, I turn 40. Which means I have 53 days until my ovaries turn to each other across the vast pink expanse of my uterus, wink at each other, and commence crushing my remaining eggs Kids in the Hall-style.
My brother, Jesse, lives in China, and last week he got married. So Rose and Dave and I descended on him during typhoon season because everyone looks great in 90 percent humidity.
I spotted during my luteal phase. Let me explain.
I've been charting my cycle because somebody gave me a book about fertility and I'm curious as to whether at my advanced maternal age I CAN get pregnant.
So I got fucking snookered into another three months on Match.com because I forgot it automatically resubscribes you and charges your credit card. So I signed in ... with the wrong email address and discovered my OLD MATCH.COM ACCOUNT FROM THREE YEARS AGO WHAT.
Mexico was great. I didn't get roofied. But I did nearly get into a car I shouldn't have gotten into.
NOTES TO SELF WHILE TRAVELING ALONE IN OAXACA, MEXICO
The good thing about not speaking the language: You can't talk me into anything because I have no idea what you're saying.
June 16, 2016: Posted on Atlanta Craigslist in Housing > Rooms & Shares*
SWM-53 seeks Girlfriend or Wife. Free rent, power, cable, wifi & food[WHAT I WANT]: I'm seeking a non-smoking female that's probably size 14 or smaller.
Something I never would have anticipated: At this age, "Do you want to have kids?" and "Do you want to get married?" are first-date questions. Well, they're MY first-date questions
Today I sat down with a pen (WHAT'S THAT) and a piece of paper (NOW YOU'RE JUST BEING SILLY) and typed into Google:
"What to do when you're trying to get pregnant"
I had a weird realization today: In my 25-year-long wake of exes--which has yet to include a celebrity but THERE'S STILL TIME EVERYONE LOVES A 39-YEAR-OLD GROUPIE--the detritus includes two lawyers, two cops, and two people who went to jail for punching people (not me).
WHAT DOES IT MEAN.
Recently my father's emails have the anthropological value of reminding me, or future me, of what has been stressing me out recently.
Then, in another email, he mentions that he and my mom have made a reservation at an Italian restaurant for their 44th wedding anniversary.
Over Memorial Day weekend I drove to a barbecue and on the way listened to Spotify's "Discover" playlist they made for me. Generally this involves me skipping through most of the fucking garbage they try to feed me, but often I save one, sometimes two, songs to my "Brand-New Faves" playlist.
My Mom updated her website. This is the description of one of her artist books:
Why Me? 2003
Why Me? is about acne from an adolescent girl's perspective. Text by Jenny [last name]. 9" x11" handmade paper with embedded dried beans, inkjet text.
So. OKCupid summarizes other people's qualities (which they glean from how you answer questions) compared to your qualities at the bottom of each profile. FOR EXAMPLE: One recent afternoon, sitting in bed in torn pajamas and scratching the eczema on my legs, I found what I felt was a bad combination: Someone was more "sex-driven" AND more "conservative."
A frequent thought these days is, why did my standards have to go up NOW? I had limited standards from 1991-2013, which meant I dated a LOT. A LOT, A LOT, A LOT.
A frequent thought these days is, why did my standards have to go up NOW? I had limited standards from 1991-2013, which meant I dated a LOT. A LOT, A LOT, A LOT.
On Mother's Day I Skyped with my parents.
Mom: I knew I was bad with the language when you were two, and you were in the bathroom and you couldn't get a towel to wrap the way you wanted or something. And I heard you say, "Oh, dammit!"
Yesterday I went on a date. On the way there, I called Mom from my magic Bluetooth car phone booth.
Me (39, ostensibly an adult): I don't want to go!
Mom: Just have a good time. You're overthinking it. Just be cool.
"This will probably nullify any chance I have with any female on here but whatever. I've been on here a month and a half and I'm still here which tells you something (WHAT DOES IT TELL ME MY LOVE).
Try to get pregnant at 40, and everyone has a story. Recently a friend of a friend shouted the following at me across a table in a bar in Denver, about a friend of hers giving birth:
"SHE TORE TO HER ASSHOLE. SHE TORE INSIDE AND OUT."