Some new tidings: Dating like it’s 1995

I let Boobday go last week.  Just simply didn’t do it.  Thursday I had a date with a man who pouted at the end of the night when I wouldn’t touch his hardon and as I rubbed that whole experience out of my eyes all day on Friday Molly’s incredible Top 100 Sex Blogs of 2018 was about to come out I was eagerly awaiting it rather than doing my little meme.  Then the results were published and by then I was overtaken by a calm don’t-give-a-fuck-about-Boobday mentality.  Of course that meant that anyone who did a Boobday post was let down by me (I see you, Zoë).  Sorry for that, y’all.

December 17th will be my 7th anniversary of this blog and I’ve been in the throes of ambivalence about it.  When I won the top spot on the list back in 2015 it really was at the height of my creative impulses.  The Neighbor was newly gone and I was deeply invested in my writings and the community.  I also had a lot more free time.  Hours and hours and hours.  I lived a 36 hour day, it seemed.  I dated 3-5x a week, wrote like mad, fucked like mad, connected to the community like mad.  These days I’m excited if I get to bed on time and can muster one date a month.

I woke up the other morning inspired to change the course of my life and the way in which I interact – in a 21st Century sort of way, of course.  The year 1995 seems to be this nostalgic go-to in my language over the last couple of years.  “I want to go back to 1995 to…”  “Like in 1995 when….”  I use it to refer to texting and our mobile phones, mostly, but also about the app culture related to dating.  Everything is cut down to these little parcels of information and no one is actually investing in one another like we did in – you guessed it – 1995.

What I’m trying to say is I have decided to try to date like I did in 1995, but with the technology and support of my 21st Century life.  That means I might use a dating app to find someone, but as soon as humanly possible I will remove myself from the trap of texting and insist on phone calls for everything.  To set up dates, to verify times, to ask a question, to let him know I’m thinking of him and so on. I also want to rely heavily on correspondence such as email.  My apologies to the US Postal Services, but I’m not going that far back.

Even typing that it feels like I’ll be the one fish swimming the wrong way, but I can’t keep pretending that being seen as just an avatar or some unsaved phone number on a phone isn’t harmful to my spirit.  I am more than just an option, one can of soup on an end cap stacked in a pyramid to catch your eye but wholly unmemorable.

I’ll let every potential date know my new philosophy and see how it goes.  This will be challenging as hell for me – I hide behind technology on so many levels – but it seems like the right time to try.  And more importantly for me I feel excited about writing about my experiments with this.  It’s a new lens through which to view my life and adventures.  We all know I can get laid, but can I connect?  Sometimes I just don’t know, but I’m hoping I still know how.

To counter act this feeling of anonymity and invisibility with others I’m reaching out to real life friends more and am even looking for friends through Bumble so I don’t find myself trapped at home or on a date as my only means of getting out of the house.  I have promised myself to reconnect to the community, as well, picking one meme a week to be a part of (Masturbation Monday, Wicked Wednesday, Share Our Shit Saturday or Sinful Sunday) and I’ll definitely do the Smut Marathon again – congrats to EA, by the way!)

According to British researcher, Robin Dunbar, 150 people is roughly the max a human brain can connect to and know, therefore I surely shouldn’t have even 10% of that going on in texts with strangers, so back to 1995 I go.  Simple, connective, not perfect, but focused and deliberate.  That’s what 1995 is to me: deliberate.  Not this 2019 hyperactive frantic flailing about crying for attention, pick me pick me pick me crap.  I’m too old for that shit.  Let me instead be forever 20 years old in my heart with the wisdom of an aging spirit.


[Ed. Note: I’m still gonna keep doing Boobday and have organized my week to be very very organized!  This new “project” of mine has really energized me on lots of bloggy levels.  Quick shout out to everyone who landed on the Top 100 list and a special kiss and hug to my wifey at the #1 spot, Rebel.  She’s incredible and most certainly deserved the accolade.]

A 40-something single mother who writes honestly about sex, body image, D/s, relationships, her nervous tics, and how much she loves to fucking fuck. She also likes to show you her tits.

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7 thoughts on “Some new tidings: Dating like it’s 1995
  1. I missed Boobday but you take care of yourself before anything else and I think it’s a great idea of yours to communicate through phone calls instead of text. At least with a voice you can get a sense of commitment or interest.

  2. Hey, no worries about Boobday, but I appreciate the shout out!

    As for avoiding texting, I’m curious to see whether you find that only the people who can remember 1995 as a teen or adult are able to do without. Regardless, I think being *deliberate* is a great idea! I wish you well!

  3. When my daughters were getting into dating age I told them they couldn’t accept a date by text or, if the boy didn’t call them they couldn’t go and they had to call him back, on a phone, with a real voice. I also said if a Boy cancelled on them by text they were allowed to dump him. :-) my son’s just about to get into dating age and we’ll have the same rules. I watch The Young boys at church struggle to be social when their phones are in their pockets. We have ‘phone free” activities so they learn to talk instead of type.

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