Dad's House

A Decade of Divorced Dating!

dadshouse — Fri, 06 Nov 2009 13:07:05 +0000

My marriage ended ten years ago.

That’s a decade of post-divorce dating experience under my belt!

What was dating like ten years ago?
And what’s it like now?

Today, Dad’s House is guest posting over at The Real World: Venus vs. Mars. Ride a love rocket on over for a look at:

A Decade of Dating,
How Things Have Changed

Then come back and help me figure out what to do with the next ten years of my life.

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Drunk Texting Marriage Proposal

dadshouse — Thu, 05 Nov 2009 11:13:36 +0000

I go on a lot of bad dates. At least those are the ones I tend to blog about. Sill, proof does exist that not all of my first dates suck. A woman I recently went on two dates with texted me at 2am.

She texted: Sleelunb???
I texted: Huh? What’s up?
She texted: I’m drunk!!!

Gotta love a drunk text at two in the morning.

I texted: Do you need a ride someplace?
She texted: No. I’m home. And sad!!!!
I texted: Why sad?
She texted: Will u marry me?
I texted: Ha. U r drunk
She texted: I need u to marry me or I have to go back to Peru!

Nothing like a foreign national looking for a green card after just two dates to suck the romance right out of a relationship. Not to mention doing so drunk at 2am. I’ve heard some crazy requests in my days (remember the woman who wanted to be nude in chains, in a cage?), but this took the cake. I ignored the drunken texting.

She sent another text message.

Her text: Marry me???

She must have passed out asleep, because she didn’t text again until morning.

Her text: So u gonna marry me??
My text: Not today.
Her text: When? I miss my parents! I need u to marry me so I can visit them and come back and stay here.
My text: I barely know u
Her text: U will know me good when we marry. I will stay with you 3 years!!!

Oh, she hadn’t mentioned we’d stay married three whole years. That changed everything. Of course, after three years, we’d… get divorced? Sigh.

Two days later, she sent another text mesage:

When u gonna call? We need to go on a date so u can know me.

Warning to Dad’s House female readers. Dating David can result in you wanting to get married right away. Anyone with marital desire lasting more than 48 hours needs medical assistance immediately, or risk a permanent loss of wedding bell potency.

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Sorry My Son Kicked Your Son’s Ass

dadshouse — Wed, 04 Nov 2009 11:30:09 +0000

It’s wrestling season in the middle school, and I watched a meet last night. My teen son quickly pinned his opponent. So fast, in fact, he looked up at the ref, wondering when the call would come. That one moment of lost focus was all it took for his opponent to waggle free – for a second. My son pinned him again, and this time the ref called it. I think the entire match took less than a minute.

A little while later, I was chatting with a mom who had a boy on the team. She had only been to one other match – one last year where a boy broke his arm in the first few minutes of the wrestling meet. I was there too – it was excruciating for us parents to watch. I can’t imagine the pain that boy was in.

Anyway, the match last night is the first one the mom had attended since that broken arm. Finally it was her son’s turn to wrestle.

Her boy is big and strong, and a woman near us gasped.

“Is that your son?” the gasping woman from the other team asked.
“Yes,” the mom on my team said. “Is that your son going up against him?”

The other woman nodded, and put a hand to her mouth. Clearly, she didn’t like her son’s odds.

Keep in mind, these boys wrestle in a weight class, so they weighed pretty much the same. But the boy from my son’s team was all muscle, lean, strong, ripped abs, broad shoulders. The other boy was out of shape.

To keep things clear, let’s call the strong boy from my son’s team Hulk, and the other boy Wimpy.

The ref started the match. Hulk picked Wimpy up and threw him to the mat. (No, this isn’t WWF. It was a legal throw.) Wimpy’s mom gasped loudly.

Hulk’s mom turned and said “Oh, I’m sorry. I hope my son didn’t hurt your boy.”

If there’s a more polite way to say, “sorry my son just kicked your son’s ass,” I don’t know it.

Photo by emdot, some rights reserved.

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From Sizzle to Fizzle Before the Second Date

dadshouse — Tue, 03 Nov 2009 10:15:33 +0000

I had a rockin’ date this past summer. I saw a woman in a wine bar, tried to chat her up, failed miserably – but then got her number a week later from a friend of hers who it turns out I knew. Apparently, he did some serious wingman post-op triage and talked me up to her when I wasn’t around. She told him to have me call her, and call her I did.

She and I had a cocktail date at one of my favorite upscale restaurants. The mood there is cozy, the lighting dim, the drinks stiff (the bartenders know me, ahem). We had a lot in common, and the conversation flowed. All in all, a great first date.

Before we could have a second date, though, she left town for a few weeks (it was summer, remember). Once back, we reconnected with a phone call, and I invited her out for dinner.

Now then, she’s a single mom of teens, and I’m a single dad of teens, so our custody schedule shouldn’t be too hard to sync up. After all, our kids are old enough to be left alone for an evening. But this woman was tough to pin down. Seems she’s a bit of a socialite wannabe. (She swore she never went out, but she kept talking about how her girlfriend was married to a Venture Capitalist, i.e. man with a mega personal bank account, and I got the idea this woman wanted the same sort of prize.)

To make a long story short: we picked a night for a second date, and she cancelled on me last minute, saying something else hd come up. She suggested I try her again the following week. Try I did, only to find out her every night was booked.

Can you say, she didn’t want to date me, but didn’t want to tell me that?

I checked with the mutual friend, and he said I should probably just stop pursuing her. Okay, no big deal. I’m not going to hit it off with everyone. I mean, this woman and I had definite chemistry, and we connected on a very grounded level. But I’m not a Venture Capitalist, never pretended to be. My wallet isn’t as big as the Rock of Gibraltar.

Fast forward to this past week. I was in that same wine bar with a buddy, and who’s there but Miss Wants-to-Marry-a-Wallet! We locked eyes, and she abruptly turned away, pretending not to see me. She said something to her lonely houswife friend (the one married to a VC), then threw back her head and laughed – Hahahahahaha. One of those carefree laughs hot women toss out in bars so that men will notice them.

My buddy insisted I go say hi, if for no other reason than to see fireworks. I was totally down for that. This woman’s summer-time reaction to not wanting to date had been so junior high worthy, I hadn’t lost any sleep.

We went over to her and her friend, and I said hello. She looked at my like I had some nerve even pretending I knew her. I introduced my buddy, and introduced ourselves to her friend. But Miss One Date turned away like I wasn’t even there.

Damn, I must have pissed her off plenty over the summer. Maybe I was supposed to have called and pressed for that second date. Some women like playing hard to get.

My buddy and I strolled off, and he muttered something about her being a bee-yatch.

A little later that night, two older men approached this woman and her friend. The men were comfortably dressed, drinking from special glasses reserved for expensive wine, totally oozing money. VC’s, for sure. With her gold digger attitude, I figured they had a chance to score.

Not two minutes into their flirty approach, she pulled the same I’m so bored with your company shit she’d pulled on me.

I’m thinking Miss Money Crazy has a bit of a complex. (If anyone can think of a good urban slang term to describe her, feel free…)

Coming soon: I’ll post about a second date I recently had with a different woman, that led to a totally different reaction on her part… (drunken texts are a very good thing)

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Crashing a Parents Party on Halloween

dadshouse — Mon, 02 Nov 2009 10:13:01 +0000

My teen son decided to trick-or-treat this Halloween with a new group of friends. He’s in eighth grade and they’re in seventh, and I didn’t know any of these kids. When I dropped my son off, I made sure to go up to the house and meet the parents.

What do you know, there was a Halloween party going on.

I know it’s a fairly common tradition for families to get together on Halloween, the parents socializing and downing drinks while the kids run around the neighborhood getting candy. While I’ve been to some adults-only Halloween parties since my divorce, I’d never been invited to a family-friendly one by parents of my kids’ friends. I’d grown used to married couples partying without me, the single dad.

So when the mom hosting this party invited me in for some “witches’ brew”, I was hesitant. After all, I was supposed to head back home and hand out candy. More than that, I didn’t know a soul at the party. Our kids had attended different elementary schools. It was middle school this year that brought us all together.

I’d be crashing their party.

But the mom insisted I come in, and one vodka-laced drink later I didn’t want to leave. There were people chatting in the dining room, kitchen, family room, and out on the backyard patio. There was USC/Oregon football and Yankees/Phillies baseball on a couple of TVs. There was food, beer and soda along with the witches’ cocktail.

Fun times! Everyone was super nice.

At one point I was hanging out with just the moms while the dads took the kids out trick-or-treating. (I was in flip-flops and a T-shirt, not prepared for the cold.) The moms started quizzing me about being a single dad, since they had some friends going through divorces. We slowly learned we were connected through mutual friends. Plus, one of the moms realized she’d read my blog before. Small world!

Who would have guessed in ten years of divorce my first family Halloween party invitation would be extended by strangers?

Either they are nice, quality people. Or they drank a hell of a lot of witches brew before I got there!

(Haha. I’ll stick with the former.)

If you liked this adult Halloween post, you might also enjoy:

Halloween is Great for Adults!

dadshouse — Fri, 30 Oct 2009 10:30:54 +0000

Halloween is great for adults!

Anyone can see that from this pic. I mean, how often do you actually want police presence at a party?

Only when it’s a sexy cop!

Today, Dad’s House rides a witches broom over to the Silicon Valley Moms Blog with a fun post about adults and Halloween.

Halloween is Great for Adults

Then come on back and I’ll cuff you.

Or if you’re dress liked this sexy cop, you can cuff me.

Photo by pena2, some rights reserved.

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Couch Sex

dadshouse — Wed, 28 Oct 2009 10:20:20 +0000

I don’t know what it is about the leather couch in my TV room, but women love having sex on it. Yes, I said women. Cut me some slack. I’ve been divorced ten years, and I’ve owned this couch for seven. I’ve dated more than one woman in that time. (Please know that any couch sexy activity is couched on blankets, and the couch is kept clean for normal use.)

Why do women love getting it on, on my TV room couch?

I have a few theories:

My TV room is manly – the couch is brown leather, the walls of the room are sangria red, the coffee table is wrought iron and glass. This room is decidedly masculine. It’s sort of a man cave. Women love it!
I have music DVDs that are great for sex – depeche mode | devotional (oozes sex!), The Cure – Trilogy (classic background make-out noise), U2 Go Home – Live From Slane Castle (Bono on stage, what’s not to like?)
Being taken anywhere besides bed is hot – I once had a girlfriend want me to do her right on the dinner table. Sort of like The Postman Always Rings Twice. Um… my kids and I eat there? Another wanted to do it in the great outdoors (backyard sex rocks – but beware wild animals!)
We start out chatting and drinking wine, and then… (do I really need to explain this one?)

Just know, if you’re on the couch with me, there’s always the chance of an unexpected visit from one of my kids. You-know-what-us Interruptus will test even the horniest lover’s desire.

And on that note, I need to go watch Survivor (recorded on Tivo) with my kids.

On the couch!

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