Dont Mince Words

Libby Hill Sledding Party

I like Fall. I like rain. I don’t mind one minor (< six inches) snowstorm a year. When blizzard conditions were forecasted for my birthday weekend, it was just another excuse to stock up. My southern California dog and I were ready.

Blizzards aren’t new to me. I was born during one. However, my snow skills are rusty since moving back to Virginia. I knew I needed alcohol and coffee. My neighbors told me I was on a good grid and it was unlikely my power would go out. I made soup and waited.

In the end, I was reminded why I love city living. It all goes back to that walk score. While my bless-their-hearts suburban friends were stuck in their cul-de-sacs, I was walking to restaurants, bakeries, and coffee shops. My neighborhood was drunk. Seriously drunk and happy. We had a good weekend and got more FitBit miles in than most.

Now the thaw is on and hopefully all will be back to normal in time for the recycle truck to come and dump our heaving bins…. until the next storm…or birthday.

Driving home after Christmas on I-95 is no treat. It gets worse when you look at traffic maps and see red lines from south Jersey to northern Virginia.

I was presented with a gift 30 miles from home after already being in the car eight hours. I felt that weird, oh-crap feeling and pulled off to a McDonalds only to discover my worst fear – my period started. I no longer carried supplies and the bathroom had no dispenser, so those recycle brown napkins with the embossed ‘M’ went between my legs.

I probably jinxed myself this fall when I was cleaning my closet and decided to toss all my B-team period panties. It had been eight months and odds were IT was not coming back. But, like Punxsutawney Phil, it’s back so I think I have at least one last winter of bad lady times. And there’s nothing like ringing in the new year with a Super Plus.

I can write good headlines. I can sell you shit you didn’t know you needed. I can write a lead that will get an editor to call. And I can write a cute note about your OKCupid profile that will make you click the reply button or swipe right.

Greg was the first guy EVER who matched me 96 percent on OKCupid. That just means we had similar quiz answers. But his profile was hilarious. I was inspired to write him which I don’t like to do. I don’t chase men. My mother taught me that one. But she’s dead and my boobs aren’t getting any perkier, so I’m changing my ways.

My opener was “You are like me except you have a penis.” I know. I know. But he wrote back and we eventually met for dinner. He wasn’t a super available guy with two teens and a business, so I didn’t see him again until he came up on my Tinder prospects. I knew that headshot. His profile stated he was looking for “Someone like me, except with boobs.” So, going out with me got him a good edit. I got a salmon salad.

Tinder recently changed its algorithm but today I wasn’t so sure. Raul, an ex- from 14 years ago popped up. I thought I reached the end of the internet when LinkedIn recommended I friend my ex-husband. Maybe I’d circled back around today. I messaged Raul and told him about my WTF Tinder moment.

He decided to change his location to Richmond thinking he’d eventually run into me. “I thought you would show up after 100 swipes. You were the first one! I said to myself, ‘that ho.’ You are the face of the fucking Richmond dating scene,” he messaged to me, through Tinder, after he kiddingly asked what I was wearing.

So, after two years here, I’m still single. Clicking and swiping has made me the face of Richmond dating.