Dear Gentlemen of the Internet Dating Universe, You are not Casper. You are not a ghost, friendly or otherwise. You cannot walk through walls and disappear. Please stop. The latest of your ilk exchanged a frenzied 568 text messages over a three day period with actual plans made to meet in a week’s time. … More Don’t Be a Casper
I grew up eating government cheese and wearing Dollar General jelly shoes that gave me bleeding blisters. When I was very young we raised pigs to slaughter and stored homegrown root vegetables next to the coal in the basement to make it through the winter. We were sustainable chic before it was hipster. When you’re … More Bubbles and Budgets
If I could Match.Com me a perfect doesn’t-have-to-talk companion his name would be Sven and he would be a 6’4” Swedish masseuse. Instead I’m following a tiny Russian woman to a suspect back room to get mostly naked and shell out the equivalent of a Tiny House Nation mortgage for a professional rubdown. I hope. … More Russian Rubdown
Sleeping on the Diagonal 