5th wheel dating sex
”The day after Thanksgiving, I renewed my subscription to and signed on to Tinder for the first time.
I like my catfish fried, laying between two pieces of white bread and doused in hot sauce—not on the Internet.
By the way, there is never anything good behind an anonymous photo.
“Somebody could get hurt.”At 47, I am young enough to be thrilled with a man’s attention, yet old enough to know better.
The young fitness trainer had to be right around my son’s age—all of maybe 25 and young enough to send my grown children into (another) uproar.
I am not exactly a hopeless romantic nor am I a cynic, but love is hard work.
I remember what it was like to be wonderfully and mutually vulnerable, as well as the searing pain of watching it all fall down.
Every once in a while, I can still catch myself thinking about the thirtysomething brother who temporarily swept me off my feet a little over a year ago. Right Now was decidedly less bookish than what I had been accustomed to—preferring Timberland boots, sagging pants, and 2 a.m. For a few enjoyable weeks, I suppose I was caught up in the way he kept me steady and grounded.
After a little coaxing, I got a tattoo on our first date. If I am being honest, dating has fallen somewhere behind getting adjusted to living in Brooklyn, a never-ending search for the perfect pair of jeans, and Face Timing with my granddaughter.
The remote control is exactly where I left it and I decide when it’s time to empty the trash.