My Deaf Victim

His lips met mine as we sat on his couch and I knew with each kiss that I was going to end up making a bad decision. I had been doing that a lot lately. My impulsive choices were a daily occurrence and I wondered when I would choose to stop making them.

My heart was not what it had been before The Psychopath, and I feared it never would be again. Riker was sweet, fucking hot as hell…and I felt…Nada…Zip…Zero…Nothing. Some of you will simply chalk this up to lack of chemistry, but it was much more than that. If my soulmate had walked into my life at that point I would have never been able to recognize him. I’m glad he stayed away.

I started to kiss Riker faster. I could tell he began to feel uncomfortable but I was getting wet. I needed him. Well, I didn’t need Riker…I needed anything to help me start to feel again. I needed his hands on my ass, his breath on my neck and his emotions. I was a straw sucking up any feelings that he may have been having for me, and using them to temporarily band-aid the open wound which had been left on my heart.

Well aware of the consequences of losing my “good girl” image, I leapt forward straddling Riker’s lap. My “good girl” image was a joke anyway, because that night I was thinking dirty, dark thoughts.

I wanted to be bruised. I craved the pain I had felt with The Mad Hatter. If I couldn’t feel on the inside, I wanted to feel everything on the surface. I was no longer looking for my soulmateI wanted to be fucked. Hard. ball

Before The Psychopath, I had slept with a total of three people. While I had not been in love with all three of these men they had each made an impression on my heart. They had changed me for the better. But after The Psychopath I realized that the bad people in this world have a much larger effect on us than the good ones.

Sitting back on Riker’s knees I smiled at him and took my shirt off. Immediately I returned to kissing him, harder and faster then before.

 And that’s when it happenedDeaf Riker took my small face in his seemingly giant hands and shook his head “no.”

 “Not tonight,” he said as clearly as he could.

Riker was telling me he did not want to have sex. ….WHAT?…..

He slowly signed so that I might pick up what he was spelling out.

“It’s too soon,” he signed. “I want to know you better.”

This was the first time a man had refused me. And while I’d like to say that I was angry because he didn’t give me what I wanted….Riker gave me what I needed afterall.

I needed to feel precious again. I needed to feel important. It was sad that these feelings were so foreign to me, because all women deserve to feel as if they are being treasured. The PsychoPath and The Mad Hatter had used me. They had forgotten that women are valuable. We are capable of deep, concentrated love. But Riker remembered this fact, and he wasn’t going to let me use him as they had used me.

I suddenly felt uncomfortable with my shirt off. I put it back on and he taught me a few new signs before I headed home.

Eventually Riker and I did sleep together. There was no passion to speak of (obviously because I was numb inside), and he was much too passive in the bedroom for my taste, but it didn’t matter. I led Riker on and he deserved none of it. Riker should have been acknowledged for his kindness, and his slapstick sense of humor. A good woman would have appreciated him for the amazing father he is, and the natural teacher within him. Instead he was my victim. It was the first time I was with someone not because of who he was, but how he made me feel.

 Thankfully Riker and I are still friends to this day. He has forgiven me for my selfishness and he told me last week he thinks he may found his soulmate. She’s apparently very lovely, and appreciates him in all the right ways.


Dear Riker,

 From the deepest part of my heart, I couldn’t be happier for you.


P.S. To All the Riker’s of this world, may you realize that the women who have used you have been used themselves, and while that is not an excuse for our behavior, I urge you to end the greedy cycle of Lust and Selfishness.



Go Fuck Yourself

REJECTION. We have ALL been there. Girl likes boy or boy likes girl, and instead of having those feelings returned, we are left standing alone on the sidelines yet again with the “picked last” sensation from 7th grade gym class.


I recently hit an all time low this week when I was rejected before he even met me in person. …sometimes you just have to laugh at how pathetic you are. It heals the imaginary pain.

Originally, I had planned on wallowing in self-pity for at least two days solid, but I’ve opted for the healthier route of day drinking and cupcake eating. I also have the fuck-buddy on standby. It would probably be important to note that this was NOT the only rejection I have received in the last seven days. …I’m on a roll.


But this post isn’t about me…it’s about how we’re all losers. So let’s get back to the subject.

These days it’s as if rejection is literally around every corner, especially in the dating world.

In the last three days alone I have talked to four different people who have all been recently rejected by the opposite sex.

 What the hell is happening out there?

Well I’ll tell you. Rejection is actually an important part of the evolutionary process. Turns out, back in the days of cavemen and cave-ladies, being ostracized from our hunter/gatherer group was pretty much a death sentence. We had to stick together in order to survive. Therefore, we have learned that “fitting-in” is important, and being “wanted” is a necessary quality to possess. When rejection takes place, it affects us to the point where our brains actually send out the same type of response we experience during physical pain.

 So in other words, the next time you tell someone they’re too ugly for you, you might as well just go ahead and kick them in the shin too.

tumblr_mq5ifsqUtX1sng8wro1_500Or that………

 Now the level of pain associated after being rejected is always proportionate to our level of emotional investment.

For instance, when the guy you’ve been seeing casually for two weeks doesn’t respond to your texts, it’s going to hurt a lot less than stalking your ex via Facebook only to view picture after picture of him and his new “soulmate.” (I highly recommend that by the way…does wonders for weight loss).

At this point I know you’re all rolling your eyes because most of this is common knowledge. So let’s get to the heart of the subject.

How are we suppose to cope with being told time and time again that we are not enough?

I don’t know. Jesus. Stop looking at Jblondie for answers. The Red Cross made it official this week…my life has been declared a disaster zone.

Coping with rejection can be made easy though if you think about it the way I do.

…that person was NOT your soulmate. He/She is still out there looking for you too, and someday you’re going to be MORE than enough for them. You’re going to meet them and everything will suddenly make sense. The world will seem brighter and although it may not be easy, you will always be willing to make it work with the right person.

Accepting rejection and then moving on is a sign of adulthood. We no longer have to be that wallflower waiting for someone to ask us to dance. We can dance on our own while looking for the other weirdo who won’t be embarrassed to be seen with us.


It also helps to remember that we all do our own share of rejecting. At some point each one of us has told someone else that they are not worth our time. They are not worth our love. And that’s ok too. Settling for anything less than extraordinary in love should be illegal.

This week I reached a conclusion regarding rejection. We can either allow it to crush our hope, or we can use it as fuel for our fire. I accept rejection as a sign that I’m one step closer to finding him. I’m another dick down…and maybe the next one will feel “just right.” (I like to imagine myself as the 21st Century version of Goldilocks, because I’m searching for the perfect fit)

In my opinion, the hardest part of rejection is remembering that we are no longer cavemen. We are capable of exploring this world on our own. Accepting that we are a square peg which will never fit into a round hole is difficult but it can be done.

That being said…I will NEVER stop hoping for Love. I will jump into Love any time I come across someone worth falling for. I will always choose a chance of rejection rather than missing a chance for Love.


Call me unrealistic, call me crazy, say that I’m an idealist who’s expectations are too high…and I will call you afraid. My soulmate is out there. He is real. And I am enough for him.

 P.S. You’re a fucking cunt Karma…well played.

Can We Change Our “Type?”


…Yes They Most Certainly Do….

A couple months ago I accompanied my mother to a work related event she had organized. I chatted with all of her associates, regaled them with my tragic dating stories for entertainment, and had them rehash their old college party days with me.

It was a lovely evening filled with a lot of laughs and plenty of alcohol. Also…the crab cakes were delish!


The next day I popped by my mother’s house to gossip about the night before and commend her on her excellent party planning skills. We began talking about conversations we had during the event and out of nowhere my mother stated bluntly…

 “You know Jessica, the way you listen to people and the look on your face when you’re doing it would have everyone believing that you had fallen in love with them, which is probably why almost everyone falls in love with you.”


I laughed at her ridiculous comment at that moment, but on my drive home I got to thinking…was my mother right? (Fuck, I hate when that happens)

 Do I present myself as though I’m in love with everyone?

 The truth is…I usually AM in love with everyone at first. People fascinate me. I can’t get enough of them…even if they’re a complete asshole. If I don’t know you, I want to. And sure I find certain people annoying just like everyone else…but they still interest me. What makes you tick?

When I ask people how they’re doing, it’s not out of politeness; I truly want to know what they’re thinking about.

Most people don’t understand this about me. In fact, several men I’ve dated have found it severely annoying. They just don’t get it. It has nothing to do with being a people pleaser or wanting to be everyone’s friend…no no…I have enough friends…it’s more along the lines of curiosity.

This little quirk tends to make me really good at my job. HOWEVER it has made dating VERY complicated.

Think about it. When someone is sitting in front of you, listening to you intently, asking questions and showing genuine interest in what you’re saying…what starts to happen? You connect with that person.

Now I’d ask you to add a horny male into that mix and the cute (albeit spastic with a tiny bit of fluff) blonde is the one who is listening intently. Let’s imagine what takes place.

Needless to say, I’ve made a lot of connections in my life.

Men begin to connect with me and that’s when it happens. They begin to build me up in their heads. Then I start talking about my longing to find something real. I romanticize the idea of soulmates.

If they have been burned by a woman in the past, they tend to crave my emotion.

They want to feel something…so they do.

…but unfortunately…what they’re feeling has little to do with who I am. They’re not interested in what I’m thinking or what I’m feeling (except in the bedroom of course…then they’re obsessed with knowing what I’m feeling). No. They are enjoying the opportunity I’m giving them. They love the freedom to be who they are without judgment or consequence.

It’s not uncommon for the man to do most of the talking on first dates with me. …and you’d be shocked at the number of times I’ve heard…”Why am I telling you all of this?” I usually smile and just say “because I’m interested.”

This emotional intake I do with people is not on purpose. I genuinely want to get to know them. …but then here’s the thing…usually I know EVERYTHING about them and when they finally start learning things about me…their interest fades.

That initial rush they received from exposing themselves to me is gone. They realize it’s their turn to intake the information. …and they usually don’t want to. They rather I remained a mystery.

They think it’s cool I play guitar…but they don’t want to know much about it. They know I’m an only child…but that’s about it. They recall asking me why I chose my profession but they certainly don’t want to hear me talk about my job everyday (even though it’s one of my favorite topics).

So when I find a man who asks me questions on the first date (not out of politeness but complete interest) I immediately feel for him. If we get through the second date and I’ve exposed even the tiniest bit of myself…I want to sleep with him.

Therefore, I’m usually attracted to emotionally closed off men…because they usually turn the focus on me. I have realized that I cannot be emotionally intimate with someone unless they are emotionally with holding from me. …pretty fucked up right?

This fact has also led me to a lot of awkward situations. For example, are you friends with most of the people you’ve dated in the past? I am. I still talk with ear licker, Riker, my old college boyfriend, and my first love on a regular basis. The only reason I’m not friends with The Psychopath is because he moved to South Carolina with his Ex and the only reason I don’t continue to speak with The Mad Hatter is because well…he’s a lunatic.

Finally realizing this though it’s about time I began to change the way I date. I’m taking all of this insight and actually doing something with it. So from here on out Jblondie has a new “type,” …or DO I? Is it possible to change our “type?” Let’s see how this goes….

Stay Tuned For Next week’s post…. My LUST for deaf Riker goes to a whole new level….and THEN quickly shrinks…(foreshadowing) ;)









Lessons in Sign Language

Remember that time I dated a really hot deaf guy? Oh wait. No. I haven’t told you that story yet.

Riker was everything a good woman deserves. He was sweet, caring, sensitive, all wrapped up with a goofy sense of a humor. With two children he saw often, and a job he loved you’d think that I was an idiot for letting him go. But the heart wants what the heart wants and due to The Psychopath and The Mad Hatter…my heart was not ready to beat again.

Riker had told me right from the beginning he was deaf.

My immediate thought: Huh. Sex would be interesting.

My second thought: I wonder what dirty talk in sign language looks like…

I will always remember the first time I saw Riker. I stepped out of my tiny car, looked up from my red hooded coat and sent a request up into the heavens:

“Dear Baby Buddha, please don’t let this deaf man be a serial killer.”

There he was …all 6’4 of him. Holy shiznit he was giant. Did I tell him how tall I was? Did he prefer to tower over his dates? Was he a serial killer that preferred small women so he could crush their bones more easily with his hands?

Riker smiled, said hello and yep. He was deaf. His “hi” had confirmed it. I gave him a hug and tried to feel his body through his coat. …I’ve always been a fan of a good “feelsky.”

I immediately felt awkward not knowing sign language. How was this ever going to work? But being my stubborn self I was not about to let a tiny hindrance get in the way of me meeting my possible soulmate.

We sat down at a table and the waitress came over. I ordered a Miller Light and Riker pointed to the menu for the waitress. She had obviously seen him before because she seemed to understand immediately that he was deaf and mimed the sizes for him in order to assure she would be getting the right one. Mental Note: Start tipping better…

After she left the table he took off his coat. Hello Greek God!

Now I’ve never been one to focus on looks before but when a beautiful man is sitting in front of me…you can bet your dick that I’m going to be appreciating him. His arms were thick and muscular; his chest was most likely chiseled; His lips (which I hadn’t noticed yet) were thick and moisturized and his pale blue eyes made me pain for The Psychopath. Great….::sigh::

Riker was definitely the most attractive man I had been on a date with. Sitting next to him, grabbing his perfect biceps, gave me a glimpse of what it felt like to be Vanna White. That’s the only way to explain it really…

Thanks to technology, specifically smart phones, Riker and I communicated via the ‘Notes’ Application. We noted about our favorite TV shows, our jobs, and football. He also began to teach me the sign alphabet and common words like man, women, mother, and father. I liked learning sign language. It’s like knowing a secret code and who wouldn’t want to learn a secret code?

I left that night knowing Riker wasn’t my soulmate, but I also left a little smarter.

For our second date we met at a Mexican Restaurant. Have I ever mentioned how much I loved Mexican food? Good job Riker.

This meet-up seemed to go much more smoothly. I was more relaxed and since I had told Riker I wasn’t really feeling the Zsa Zsa Zu we had agreed to only meet as friends…yeah right. Chit-chat went well via the Note Application once again and I learned some new sign language.

Riker was as hot as ever, but I also knew this wasn’t going anywhere.

I’m a HUGE communicator. When someone can’t talk to me or I can’t talk to them I feel an immediate disconnect. I need the juicy details of your life…the good stuff…the hard stuff…and Riker’s only hard stuff involved bad mouthing his Ex-wife. (HUGE turn-off!) I needed to hear the inflection in his voice when he said my name. I needed him to hear my laugh. And that was never going to happen.

But as we stood in the parking lot and his lips met mine….my brain lost control. My body wanted him. Riker’s kiss made my knees weak, my palms sweaty, and my lady wood pop and say hello. Was Riker going to be my Rebound? Was this what people called “using” someone? Could I use Riker just like The Psychopath and The Mad Hatter had used me to jump-start their hearts?

I was conflicted. My morality was at risk and only time would tell if I would allow myself to give in to Riker’s perfect body.









A Freak Unleashed…?

He had told me to walk-in and sit on his face. But let’s be real…I’m way too awkward for that. As I stumbled up the entrance steps to his living room the house was silent. All of the lights were off forcing me to use the moon as a nightlight. There he was asleep on his couch. He was so fucking handsome and he had absolutely no idea.

I felt a rush of excitement and I couldn’t help but let out a muffled giggle. He woke up, and said hello. I walked over, and began kissing him. My fingers wrapped around his neck and sooner rather than later my clothes were off, and his pants were undone.

While I had my mouth wrapped around him moving up and down, he tasted me side to side. He pressed his tongue hard against my spot forcing sound from my throat. I was highly surprised at his ability to find it so quickly. Burying his face into me he moaned, and the more he moaned the wetter I became.

After what seemed like forever I flipped my body so we would once again be face to face and slid him inside of me. Holy Fuck…

Slowly working my way up into a straddle position I kissed his torso pressing my lips hard against his skin, and as I slowly began to roll my hips I could tell he didn’t like me having control. We hadn’t talked about favorite positions, but it was clear now that he was use to dominating during sex. Girl on top was not his style.

Before I could think though he sat up, forcefully grabbed my ass stopping my hips, and commanded “stand up.”

A grin crossed my face as I stood and thought to myself “yes sir!”

Without further direction I got on all fours atop his Ottoman. He stood behind me, smacked my ass and suddenly I realized what a “good kind of pain” could mean.

I started rolling my hips up and down while backing up into him. When he let out a low groan I figured he was enjoying himself, which made me speed up my pace.

I love when men can ‘let go,’ during sex. There is a moment when all of you stop thinking and start doing what comes naturally to your body. A specific look comes across your face of pure relaxation combined with excitement. That look is one of my most favorite things in the whole wide world.

…And as I turned my head to look back I saw his expression. Mission accomplished.

But then the atmosphere changed. Suddenly he placed his hands on my hips and took back the control. He began pounding hard into me. Harder than I’d ever felt. Because of his size the pain level began to rise and I could feel myself surrendering to him. It was almost excruciating. He was filling all of me and yet I knew he wasn’t even all of the way in.

My body no longer belonged to me. It was his. With every thrust I let out a loud scream but he refused to slow his pace. I found myself conflicted. I wanted more of him…but why did it have to hurt so badly? The faster his dick moved, the more my body crippled. I had never been more turned on.

He slid me off of the Ottoman onto the floor softly placing me on my back.

He looked me in the eyes and I’ll tell you his irises appeared to be black. All of the warm, brown color had been washed away and it was as if he was staring through me. I attempted to close my eyes and relish how big he was and how good he felt but I couldn’t. Even kissing our eyes remained opened. We didn’t want to lose each other. We wanted to be stuck together. It was magnetic.tumblr_n2el9lLsUH1sq8gvyo1_400

“Hi.” I softly whispered.

He gave me a grin that I’m sure he’s given every girl he’s been with…but in that moment it was mine. That smile was for me and his black eyes were taking in my body, not anyone else’s. Once again I was finding myself lost in a man.

“Hi.” He responded back.

The moment of sweetness was short lived though, and he resumed his relentless pounding. I could feel myself tearing apart at the seams but I didn’t care. Should I ask him to stop? Should I tell him I’m not going to cum like this because rather than hitting my g-spot he’s bruising my cervix?

No. No I don’t want to. I like this…

My legs completely surrounding him, my arms wrapped around his back with my head buried into his shoulder, his movements became harder forcing me to continue with my occasional screams. He was deliberate with everything he did and he would be seeing my nails marks on his skin the next day.

Pulling out of me he made the loudest cum sound I’ve ever heard. It was delicious. The loud, deep groan was surprising to me and yet it made me want to record him so that I could listen to it over and over again. As he finished I licked the top of his dick in order to not miss anything he was willing to give me.

The smile crossing his face at that moment was one of appreciation and approval.

While lying there on his living room carpet my thoughts began to race…(per usual)

I was sore.

Really sore.

I hadn’t cum.

Is that bad? …no because it was still hot as hell.

That was…intense.

What a Rush! …I felt wanted and used, precious and abused, all wrapped up in a ball of sweat.

And as I nuzzled my head into his chest with his arm wrapped around me I felt….safe.

The next morning I drove home and I could feel that my body was somewhat broken. The rawness was even more apparent now than it had been last night. But as I undressed for the shower that morning I couldn’t help but smile at myself in the mirror. The Mad Hatter had just taught me something invaluable.

…I liked pain. A lot. And I wanted more of it…all of it.

Would there be opportunities for exploration into this new world I had been accidentally introduced to?

I hoped so….



Things I’m too Old for at 27: The Dating Edition…

1. Small Dicks

Size matters. Enough said. Sorry guys. I know you were hoping your ex-girlfriend meant it when she said “it’s not the size, it’s how you use it.” NOPE. You can know every maneuver in the Kama Sutra, but if you’re packing what I like to call a lip-stick dick…well all I can say is “I hope you can lick your eyebrows.”tumblr_mcs9ko39Bs1qeuthyo1_400

2. Faking the “O”

This is a pointless gesture that only serves as an ego booster. Guess what? You’re not doing anyone a favor…including yourself. If you can’t tell your partner what you like and how they can make you feel good…you need to do some serious self-assessment. Look at your life. Look at your choices…and then choose to cum. Over and Over.


3. Constant Break-Ups

“Hey are Jane and Dick coming out tonight?”

“No they broke up last week…again.”

“Are you kidding me? Again? That’s the third time this month.”

“Yeah I know their relationship is almost as unstable as my sobriety.”

 Man this one is annoying right? If you’re still doing the constant break-ups during/after every fight in your late 20s, I’d say it’s time for a look at your maturity level. A good argument can be healthy for a relationship…especially when it leads to the making up part. Fights happen So…..

                                                                Listen. Learn. Lick.


4. Lying

Why are people still lying at this age? Just tell the fucking truth and accept the consequences! Now I cannot be blamed if you choose to be stupid enough to tell your pregnant wife/girlfriend that yes she looks fat in that dress…I mean the big stuff: Cheating, Money, Relationship status etc. Just own your mistakes and take it like a grown-up. Because guess what…this is it. This is what we were wishing for when we were twelve and wanted to rule our own lives…seriously sucks sometimes doesn’t it?


5. The “Not Sure” Merry-Go-Round

Here’s a hint: If you’ve been dating someone for a month or two and you’re still “not sure,” how you feel about them, then chances are it’s because you’re “just not that into him/her” and you’re attempting to avoid the feeling of loneliness. Get over yourself. You’re wasting everyone’s time. Go find your balls and do the right thing. End the game before the other player signs that emotional contract binding them to heartbreak.


6. “Hanging Out”

What.The.Fuck. A guy asked me to “hang out” the other night and my response was “Oh are we going to build a fort too?” We are way past the age of “hanging out.” It’s either a date or a hook-up. Guys if you’re still asking a girl to “hang out” with you and you’ve been out of college for a couple years now…it’s time to man up. Make your intentions clear.

Example A: Hey gorgeous, we should go out on a date this Saturday…what do you say to dinner and a Red Box?

Example B: Hey sexy. Wanna stop by later?

                     Sincerely, My Dick.

This way your lady lover (or manly man) knows exactly what you’re looking for. No confusion=No stage four clingers.



7. Dating people without jobs.

We ALL come across hard times, so don’t get me wrong here, but if you’re going on three months without work, and you’re still hitting up the OKstupid account on a daily basis… I don’t have time for you. Your priorities need to change. After all, being in our 20s is all about creating ourselves and discovering how to stay balanced. So if I’m headed into my thirties pretty soon…you best believe I’m going to be looking for someone who’s just ambitious as I am …AND can drive himself to our dates.


8. The “Frat” Guy Syndrome

Here’s the thing…and maybe this makes me lameo but I don’t care… I would rather take my dog for a run and read a good book than go out to the same bar, to see the same faces, and talk about the same bullshit every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night. I’m too old for the guys who are either still in Frat mode or have already created a routine rut. No matter how attractive these men are at 27, I always see this type of guy balding with a huge beer gut at age 46.

I'll Pass........

I’ll Pass……..

I’d rather find a nerd with a pension for weird hobbies any day of the week.

9. The Game Player

A friend told me the other day that a guy had texted her after their date, but she was going to wait to text him back until tomorrow afternoon.

Ummm what? ………

Is this still a thing? Are we still trying to seem “interested but not too interested?” …if I want to play a game it will be Monopoly (or Apples to Apples) NOT the “I want to appear cool with my apathetic response” game. If I don’t hear from a guy the next day…I take it as a sign he’s just not that interested. Don’t try to text me two or three days later to see how I’m doing…because guess what? I’ve probably moved on.

God I love this movie....

Totes McGoats!

10. Needy Ned

Now here’s the tricky part with not playing games. Sometimes people can come across as the “Needy Ned” or the “Clingy Cathy.” These people don’t appear to have much going on in their lives and they don’t quite seem to grasp the idea of taking things slowly. As you all know I tend to leap before I look when it comes to love, but I’m far from a Clingy Cathy. I need my personal time. I don’t want to hear from you all throughout the day, and I like to know that you have things that keep you busy too. I’m looking for my soulmate, my bestfriend, but if I’m the only thing you have going for you…yikes. That’s like driving your car after replacing your gasoline with Vodka….

Safety First....

Safety First….


P.S. I’m very curious. What are YOU too old for in Dating? If you’re a blogger leave your comments below and if you’re a Facebook reader feel free to leave them below the post on my page!

Uncomfortably Honest,



The Purpose of Pete

Don’t worry…last emotional post for a while. And anyway-get over it. You’re the one reading this nonsense.

Life is funny…and it can be good, bad, exciting, and blah all in the same week. I’ve always believed that EVERYTHING happens to us for a reason. Every person we meet, every relationship that forms in our lives was created for at least ONE purpose.

 But it’s hard to see the purpose of Pete.

 What do you do when you realize that the person you’ve been sending prayers of thanks up into the clouds for…isn’t real? Every word that ever came out of their mouth was a lie….Catfish Intro


Well I can only tell you what I did…I cried. A lot. I probably could have caused some type of tidal wave if I had been anywhere near an ocean. Kristyn was getting worried…and annoyed. My Catfish had possessed a powerful rip current, and I had been sucked underneath the water.



Yep. I had those embarrassing moments of tearing up at work because he had called me there to tell me goodnight too many times to count.


I cried in the shower. …because he had watched me shower. Yuck.


I cried folding my laundry…because he had watched me fold my laundry, and jokingly made fun of my complete lack of caring when it came to adult chores.


I cried in the car, almost every time I checked my email, and several times while listening to his old Skype messages. …I know…sickening right?



I was a disaster for the first week after I found out about my Catfish.


I felt utterly stupid, and confused, and hurt, embarrassed, heartbroken, violated, sickened, scared, pissed, and did I mention REALLY stupid??


I probably thought “why me?” enough times to make the Elephant Man roll over in his grave simply due to my COMPLETE sense of self-centeredness and vanity. My dramaticalness was at an all time high to say the least.



Just being honest…right?

 I think the idea of Fake Pete jarred me unlike anything ever has before because from the beginning he had made me promise “complete transparency” “no secrets,” and yet his entire existence was a secret. The real individual was completely hidden behind a fuzzy screen.

Was this suppose to be my sign?


Should I not be a lover of love? Should I stop getting lost in the idea of forever?…


Maybe I should resign my true belief in soulmates and become one of the majority.


Sometimes I forget that he isn’t real. And in those moments it’s easier to breathe.


Pretender Pete (AKA my ever elusive Catfish) gave me something invaluable. He gave me the right to be myself 100% of the time. This dating world gets so complicated sometimes and when we begin to realize that this new individual in our lives is responding positively to one part of us…we tend to stop there remaining just one dimensional. We would rather they see only the parts that they know and are comfortable with…instead of risking rejection and showing all of our cards. But Pete accepted all of me. He took everything I offered and lied about how he loved it. Or maybe he did love it…whoever he was.


Or maybe this is all just a bunch of bologna and I’m talking out my ass again…


Who knows really?…my right may be someone else’s wrong.


But what I know, or at least what I can remember, is Pete gave me a feeling that I will always cherish and will search for in order to find someone REAL who offers it. Acceptance. Acceptance on the good days, the bad days, the boring ones, as well as the days when I feel like driving 90 mph down the back country roads just because I need to let loose. He never wanted to change me…he found me perfect just the way I was.

Even more than acceptance, he just “got me.” Isn’t that the best feeling?…when someone just “gets” you and of course vise versa. Pete was the first person I’ve ever experienced this with. It was splendid.

He changed everything I thought I wanted for myself but in a good way. Fake Pete gave me a feeling of no limitations. He made me want to be a better person. I want to work harder, conquer my fears, and do everything possible in order to live my life to the absolute fullest. I can get my PhD AND have a family. I can still travel, AND build a life where I want to. I can create anything I can imagine. He gave me that feeling and then suddenly…he disappeared.

 I can almost hear his voice now…

“Never settle Cakes, because you fucking deserve everything.”


Abso-fuckin-lutely I do Buddy! I have to keep telling myself my person IS out there. He must be right? But if an imposter can seem so real but turn out to be 100% fake does this mean what I’m longing for doesn’t exist? So many questions, and no Fake Pete to help me figure out the answers. So here I am …on my own again, a little bit different than before.

 …Maybe I DO see the Purpose of Pete. (In all likely hood that probably isn’t even his name…Jesus).