Vol. 2, Post #91 A Thanksgiving quickie

Here, read this on the way "home" for the holidaze. Sex tips for girls* (*or maybe just folks who are holding on to mid-life by a thread). A dating odyssey for Young Olds (people with readers).

Dear Readers, I am on the edge of being a waterworks mess, in that I look at Thanksgiving as the official “Welcome Winter” calendar moment and this winter, there are some big, big changes afoot.

You know those assholes who make announcements about “big changes”? I might be one of them, or maybe just a tiny asshole who is also making big changes. This winter, here is my short list of Joyful To Dos:

• Start learning double-pedal on drums (this is a heavy metal drummer skill, for the uninitiated). Expect me to light my kit on fire and start spinning upside down shortly, a la Tommy Lee circa 80s. Below, me, and, duh, TL. Separated at birth.

@epicliveperformances

Most Iconic Live Music Moments on Instagram: "**Tommy Lee’s Ico…

• Needlepoint (I bought a canvas and all the supplies) and more knitting. Idle hands, you know…obviously I’m starting the former with my homage to red lipstick.

  

• Eat more vegetables. I’ve attempted this before during Salad Season, but now I’m attempting it during Winter Veg Season, so I’m reaching for a few new (to me) books, including Linger, On Vegetables, and Salad Freak. I am an omnivore in every sense, and I like meat, but I’m going to eat a more vegetable-based diet for three, possible four days a week, and lest you think I’ve gone insane, I’d rather date any of my exes again than go vegan, so stop clutching your pearls.

• (This is the most important one) House arrest. I am leaving the house as little as possible this winter. Not joking. Unless I have to be somewhere for work (and I do have some fun travel planned, so that too will mean leaving the house), I am going nowhere fast…

You may ask yourself, “Abbe, you’re not leaving the house this winter? Hmmm, how will that work as it pertains to dating?” That’s a good question. Ready for my good answer?

I am fairly certain that no one I dated over the last few years was in fact “good” enough for me, and I’m in a reset on this, which means, I can stay home as long as I damn well please.

Is this you reading this right now?

NOT GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU, ABBE? What the fuck does that mean?

I’ll tell you what it means. Between my default-setting of sexy-ass broken birds who need a whore and a mommy, and the men who ALWAYS want to date me (overly confident and usually boring rich/entitled men who think the way to win me over is being showy with money), I’ve bounced around the dating scene with more action than a pinball machine circa 1982.

By bounced around, I don’t mean fucking, because there’s actually been very few of them that I wanted to fuck, or gone out with long enough to end up in bed together. I just mean, I’ve been trying on different people for size since my last really meaningful partnership ended in 2023 (this is not meant to disregard the semi-lengthy relationship I had in 2024, but it was not a love relationship although I tried hard to convince myself it could be). No. No more convincing myself of anything and for that matter, no more “trying” in any capacity. I’ve sat down and if you want me to get up, I dunno, you can figure out a way to offer me your hand.

A Dear Reader sent me this from IG last week. It made me REALLY sad, but it proves a point, so I thought I’d post it here:

I like a lot of those things too, but none of them are “hot” (the grey hoodie thing has me scratching my head in confusion, but I’ll just chalk that up to “be comfortable in wearing something comfortable” because I will be doing the same). And the reason none of those things are “hot”? These are NORMAL HUMAN traits, and I’ve been on dates with men who fall short in many of these things and it’s just not OK anymore — no matter the dick or the wallet. So, when I write “not good enough,” I mean, you be good enough for you first, and good enough for society second, and then, just maybe, you’ll be good enough for me.

I’d rather stay home. I was getting ready for a dinner date a couple of weeks back and as I applied lipstick, I said to myself in the mirror, “WTF Abbe? You can think of a million things you’d rather do than go out with this guy tonight.” That’s not a great sign and again, as ENDLESSLY said by me, here and any time I open my big mouth on this topic, a man picking up the tab does not impress me. So that’s my plan for the immediate future. Stay home until someone impresses me enough to want to put on lipstick, to say nothing about shoes.

Over the last few days, in preparation for this next stretch, I’ve texted a few men who were in the mix who had either taken me out on dates or asked me out, and told them I wished them happy holidays and that I was stepping out of our conversations or plans for further get-togethers. I don’t want any of them to bring me flowers or take my trash cans up to the curb; those ARE for sure two of my Love Language moves so, yes, I most certainly do want The Right Person to do those things for me.

I don’t want any of those ^^^ guys to pay for any more dinners or, conversely, send me dick pics. I’ve drilled down on what I think I need most and none of these guys are offering it, so I’m letting my mind and creativity wander into a few new realms for the next couple of months and seeing what piques my attention again. I have a feeling about someone, someone who I recently witnessed doing something utterly mundane and honestly lovely in public, which was in fact sexy as fuck to me, but I’m leaving it be. As I’ve said to my friends, you know how you put your amaryllis in the basement or in a dark, cool place after it blooms to allow it to reset? I’m resetting (and not forcing a damn thing, despite the cheery advice up top — as we know, forcing anything always ends in “ouch!”)

I doubt my imagination will stop running wild while I’m taking a dormant turn, because my fantasy life is rich and who the hell knows who will wind up at my door? But it’s good either way. And the path to my door is open, because, as we all know, I shovel the damn snow myself. Stay tuned and have a gorgeous and glorious holiday tomorrow, if you are celebrating. My cup(s) runneth over for what I’m giving thanks.