The Cock-Block Retaliation

I did not go to college like all of my friends, I did not have nights in the dorms, or fraternity parties and keg stands. Not on any college campuses anyway! Despite missing out on all of those moments I had plenty other ones that they did not, I have worked at lodges, dude ranches and ski resorts. There are many stories that I will share with you, even if I were to get happily married today (which I am single, so unlikely!) there would be stories to last for years!

Today I will share the beginning of Joseph, a boy I met my first week working at a ski resort in the Rocky Mountains and who I ended up dating for almost 5 years. Due to the length of our relationship this will result in a few stories, full of his crazy family, broken bones at Blues concerts and random sex locations! All things fun, sex, drugs and rock-n-roll!

I had already spent a winter deep in the Rockies as a legit ski bum and as the snow flew a year later I found myself in another mountain town, closer to the City and my family, but far enough to still have my own life.

During the first week, at orientation we went to a lift on the mountain to learn how to run the lift on the auxiliary motor, something I never thought I would need to know how to do! That is when I met Joseph. He was tall, and big, like a real man, and I had an instant crush on him.

A few months went by, and there were other men, which we will hear about another day, and I only saw Joseph at work. I worked on a lift that luckily broke down a lot and even though the lift operators could reset it themselves, we were not allowed to. Joseph would come to the lift when it would break down and listen to me jamming to the Dead and sit there and chat we me a little here and there before taking off on his snow mobile, until the next break down would occur.

On a drunken day off in the locker room there was a flyer with a blonde haired guy, naturally with a mullet. The flyer was for a party on a street called “Shooting Star Way” which seemed to be made up, though it did not stop my friend and I from calling the number and getting more information on the party. We found out it was a party, conveniently being hosted by Joseph and his friends (his friend was the one with the mullet, I know, disappointing!).

The day of the party I made a decision, a sober, conscious decision. I wanted to hook up with Joseph. I did not think about the future and what it might bring, I thought about that night and hooking up with someone who I thought was a babe! I had no idea that we would be together for the next 5 years.

That night, I drank whiskey as if it was my job, out of a mason jar on ice, with nothing mixed in. I drank a few of those, and when someone knocked the last of it out of my glass, I almost cried. Because that is what adults do.

Before I knew it, I told Joseph I needed to sleep on his couch. Please. He knew it was a lie too. After a few more drinks, flirting, and laughter the couch I asked to stay on ended up being his bed, and it ended up being all night.

The next few days were full of the awkward, “Does he like me?” “Should I call” because texting and Facebook stalking were not options, despite us being millennials, he did not was a cell or was linked into any social media.

About a week later, he made me dinner, this is where I knew the romance existed, he made me a grilled cheese hamburger. For those of you unaware of this masterpiece, you make two grilled cheese’s (white bread and Kraft, of course) and then make a juicy hamburger and use the two grilled cheeses as buns. This is also why Americans are fat. I think I fell in love at that moment.

The next day things started to get weird, he showed up to a BBQ at the bottom the lift I was working at and handed me my pajama pants that I left at his house. I figured he did not want to hang out again however he also discussed our plans for later that evening, which was a party in a nearby town. Despite our plans, later in the day Joseph told me that he was no longer able to give me a ride to the party as he had a friend he had not seen in a while and she, yes, she, needed a ride. I had just been cock blocked by a she-man. I say she-man because she looked like a man but people did say she was a girl. Now I know me saying this sounds like I am being a bit of brat and you may think this girl was actually pretty and I am petty. False. She had the bone structure of a man, and I think even an Adam’s Apple. She also had this red-ish curly hair that was the definition of frizzy.

Full of anger, and pajamas in my backpack my friends and I went to the party. As I mentioned, the day had got weird and it was only getting stranger. First my friend Ashley and poured Evan Williams (crappy whiskey) into a Crown bottle and then watched everyone say things like, “This is delicious!” or “This is going down so smooth!” Then, too many games of flip cup and beer pong, Ashley and I found ourselves walking thru town, where we then walked past the frizzy she-mans jeep. The only logical thing to do, as a lady and as an adult was to climb up on top of that jeep and popped a squat on the hood. And at the risk of being judged too much I will not explain if it was a 1-2 combo or what, use your imagination if you must.

I wish that this was not a part of the night that I remembered however, somehow, almost a decade later, I am still slightly haunted by how disgusting people are (me) and also impressed that doing that even entered our minds.

The good news for all of you out there: Do. Not. Cock-block me. EVER.

With Love, J!

Bad Habits

Memory is a weird thing.  Some people’s are good, some people’s are bad, some remember names, and some remember faces.  When I think of my own memory, it’s like Google.  I think up a search term, mentally hit “enter,” and  memories pop up in order of most to least relevance.

Unlike Google, sometimes we don’t even have to submit any search terms for memories to come flooding into our brains.   It may just take a certain smell, song, or, you know, a few too many drinks and then WHAM!  Memories right in your face.  Doesn’t matter if you want ’em or not.

Last week I had my first apple cider of the season, and even before the delicious caramel-colored liquid hit my tongue, I thought of my grandma.  As soon as it was autumn, my grandma would have cider in the house.  And I don’t mean she’d have it a few times throughout the season.  My grandma was incredibly habit-based when it came to what drinks she purchased, and was maniacal about keeping the appropriate liquid stocked.

Available year-round:  Barq’s Root Beer, milk, and water.

1-2 months after every trip to Ohio: Barq’s Red Cream Soda**

Summer months: pink lemonade — never yellow

Fall months: apple cider

Winter months: egg nog (gross)

**I’m not sure why, but this variety wasn’t sold in my home state.  This meant that when my grandparents drove to visit my aunt and uncle, they would intentionally leave room in the trunk so they could load up on Barq’s Red Cream Soda before they came home.

Needless to say, memories of my grandma’s house will forever be linked to root beer, cider, and red cream soda (it really was delicious).

This train of thought about my grandma’s drink habits started me thinking about my own habits.  Since I was also trying to think of a good topic for my blog post this week, naturally my mind went to dating habits.

When I first think of dating habits, I think of people who have a “type,” physically.  I don’t think I have that — the guys I’ve dated have had a variety of hair color/height/build/etc. (I guess they have all been white.  But don’t worry, I’m not one of those ‘I’m only attracted to those within my race’ girls.  How do I know? Because Michael B. Jordan. Don’t know who he is?  Look him up.  You’re welcome. )

Anyhow, because the guys all looked different, I always thought I didn’t have a “type.”  Enter Dan Savage — the Relationship Advice King.  He often talks about how if all of your exes are “crazy,” then you need to consider who was been the common denominator in all of those relationships (hint: it’s you).  Now all of the men I’ve been interested in haven’t been crazy, but many of them have been unavailable in one way or another.

Examples: One lived halfway across the country.  One was much older than me and didn’t have his shit together (I don’t mean he just didn’t have every detail planned, I mean he often didn’t have a job).  One had a long-distance girlfriend (I KNOW, I’M TERRIBLE.  I was young, please don’t judge me).  One told me that while he liked me and was happy to be friends with benefits, he didn’t see us dating.  One was incredibly charming and so enthusiastic about our potential relationship whenever we talked, but he would only talk to me once or twice a month.

I’m not a person who has ever needed to be in a relationship in order to be happy, but I would like to have a partner to share things with, so I sat down and took a hard look inside myself.  Sure these guys weren’t all unavailable in the same way — I wasn’t ONLY going after men who had a girlfriend, or ONLY going after those who just wanted to bang — but something was attracting to men who, if I was being honest with myself, I knew would never give me the kind of relationship I wanted.

So why did I keep waiting around for them?  Maybe part of it is that I’ve watched too many romantic movies and read too many novels where if you just keep hoping things will work out long enough — just past the moment when you should probably let go — then everything will fall into place and be easy.  I can’t say that never happens in real life, but it sure hasn’t ever worked that way for me.  Regardless, I wasn’t satisfied with blaming my unfortunate habit of betting on something I knew would probably fail on that simple fact that Hollywood conditions us to think that romance is “beating the odds to be together.”

There is the classic, “women with shitty track records with men have daddy issues,” trope, but my father is wonderful, so I knew that wasn’t my issue.

Pinpointing the ways in which you’re keeping yourself from finding what you want to find is hard.  It’s hard, in part, because it’s always hard to uncover habits that may not even be conscious ones, but it’s mostly hard because it can be difficult to admit to yourself that you might be the reason your relationships aren’t working.  It’s easier to blame it on the other person, or those ten pounds you need to lose, or timing, etc.  Making an excuse and believing it doesn’t involve unearthing a characteristic within yourself that you maybe don’t want to know you possess.  And let’s be honest, once you acknowledge that an unpleasant attribute exists, it’s nearly impossible to go back to pretending it isn’t there.  So most people don’t go looking.

If you’re brave, and if you’re sick of falling into relationship after relationship that doesn’t turn out the way you want it to…start that search.  Maybe you’ll excavate all of your subconscious feelings and worries and insecurities, and none of them will have anything to do with why your relationships haven’t worked — maybe your exes really did just suck, or the timing really was off.  That’s possible!  But don’t be afraid to check.  You might find something that does matter, and that is impacting your relationships.

So what was my issue?  I’m scared of not being enough for someone.  This may sound silly, since, to some degree, everyone is scared of showing their true self to someone they like and then having that person walk away.  However, I was so scared of not being enough that I developed a habit of starting relationships that are doomed from the beginning.  Why?  Because then when they end, it has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the actual and obvious reason(s) it never would’ve worked out (e.g. he lived halfway across the country, he already had a girlfriend, he wasn’t a steady communicator, etc).  Not a great game plan, but one that makes sense if the person making the plan is a people-pleaser who finds the idea of personal rejection absolutely horrifying.

Now that I know this, I can do a better job of checking-in with myself at the beginning of a new relationship to make sure I’m not continuing to engage in this habit.  And theeeen, hopefully after a while, my (bad) old habit will be replaced by my (good) new habit of paying extra attention so that my anxiety over being rejected doesn’t lead me into stupid relationships!  Yay self-improvement.

Sorry this wasn’t a hilarious story!  I’ll do one of those next time, I promise!  But dating isn’t all about the crazy stories of other people being ridiculous/horrible/weird.  Sometimes it’s about getting to know yourself more in order to find a good match. 🙂

Love, B!

P.S. Thought tangent about staying in unhealthy relationships — Isn’t it kind of incredible how long you can survive on brief blips of happiness in a relationship?  How those blips can keep the embers of hope alive through extended periods of hurt and confusion?  It’s absurd.  I’ve definitely been there.  For me the cycle only ended when one day, the pattern went on too long and I realized the bad times weren’t just something I had to endure in order to get to the good part–in order to deserve the happy ending.  I woke up to the fact that, no, this is what it is.  This is how it’s going to go.  This isn’t “what we’re going through”…this up and down mess of a situation….this is…it.

Please Mansplain The Office To Me

You’re bringing up The Office because it is listed as my favorite TV show.  So, don’t you think I’d know there are two versions?

Thank you for Mansplaining my favorite TV show to me.  My tiny woman brain needed help.

The Jack Attack Fan Club

As most things in my life I knew this was a bad idea, however instead of making the right decision and moving on, I made the conscious decision to continue.

Let’s rewind a bit. Recently I decided to stop dating, which shocked a lot of people but I did not give up on having sex and shenanigans–I am not crazy!

It had been a couple weeks since I had sex which was beginning to cause me to lose my mind. One week night, I found myself starting a million different conversations online, or with people from my roster.

The Roster: Similar to that of a sporting roster–in which there is a list of names of people on the sports team. In this case it is the list of names of people who I call on when I need to get laid.

On this particular night there was no one I could call on from the bench to assist with my needs, so I turned back to the conversations on various dating sites.  Because I am classy, I looked at this as a way to help out everyone in my world — if I was not going to get laid soon then people would think Meryl Streep in The Devil Wears Prada was a saint compared to how I’d be.

I had a few conversations going, one from Jackson and one from a guy named Matthew. Moments after Matthew texted me his number, as texting is easier than these stupid apps, Action Jackson sent me a message explaining how he was looking for a hook up. Due to my dry spell, it was music to my ears.

He then proceeded to tell me that he was out of town and unable to help me with my needs at that moment, but asked me if I would be interested in a threesome at some point.

Surprisingly this is not something I have ever done, however it is something I have thought about, and doing it with people I have no romantic connection too seems better. Then I asked him if he had someone else in mind and he told me he had a buddy. Clearly my next question, because I am tactful was, “Would you penetrate each other?” and I was relieved when he responded and said no. Next he tells me, “You should find my buddy, he is on here,” and then gave me his screen name.

His buddy was Matthew, who had just sent me his name and number. Are. You. Kidding. Me. I thought.

So my opening text to his friend is, “Want to have a threesome with your friend Jack and I?” because this seemed too odd that they were both on here. However, he was confused by this line.

After some conversation it made more sense to him and he said he would be open to it. Eventually we decide we should hangout, because that is the likely decision to make, while sober, at 1 in the morning.

Because this seemed like a crazy decision and it was too late to un-send the messages, I decided I could not be sober so I smoked a huge bowl, which always makes things better.

As he texted me the whole way to my place, my heart beat faster, which the weed did not help with!  

After he arrived, we chatted, which seemed to be boring AF to me but necessary for a few minutes. It felt like a business arrangement, but that was only until we went to the bedroom. Next thing I know, after getting tangled up in the sheets, as we lay there breathing heavily, all he can talk about is Jack Attack. Now there is a part of me who understood where this is coming from as it was our common bond, however conversation was not what I wanted.

Soon he left which I appreciated as I told him earlier he could only come over if he left after as I was not in the mood to cuddle.

The next time he texted me I told him I was on my period and I have yet to hear anything since. It’s hard to tell if the Fan Club has died or not, but we all know if there is ever more, you will be the first to hear about it!

With Love, J!






The Hammer of Thor

It is with great pleasure that B and I introduce our very first Feature Friday Blog! This one is brought to you by one of my best friends, Esmeralda! E is currently gallivanting her way through Australia with the English travel mate mentioned below, thanks for sharing your stories from  the other side of the world! As always, with love, BJ! 


I did what every cliché, young hippie does and I went to Southeast Asia on a backpacking trip. I started in Vietnam, where someone randomly suggested using Tinder to meet new friends and backpacking buddies. I had no prior experience with Tinder, besides hearing some funny stories from friends. It seemed innocent enough. I knew I would never actually go on a Tinder date. Just grab drinks and talk traveling…right? Right.

On a very uneventful night, I downloaded the app and cluelessly dove head first into the world of Tinder. I was swiping in directions I didn’t even know existed, for people that I was judging solely on their dog photos and number of countries they’d been too. This is when I stumbled upon Thor. He was a German model who had it going on; long blonde hair, 6 foot 4 inches tall, massive biceps, six pack, enjoyed yoga and long walks on the beach. Swipe right. MATCH. We started talking. He says everything I could possibly want to hear from a mysterious stranger. Traveling, love of animals, yoga, hippie shit with a side of partying. We try to meet up several times, throughout multiple countries, but we always seem to miss each other by a day. He invites me to the Philippines for a yoga retreat, which I was highly considering until I met two English blokes—who I later start to travel with (and falling in love with one of them).

About 2 months after meeting Thor on Tinder (at this point, I wasn’t on Tinder because I was interested in the English dude. I had almost completely forgotten about the German model) I ended up in Chiang Mai, Thailand with two of my girlfriends. We were getting ready for a normal night of drinking until we black out, when I received a Facebook message. From Thor.


The self-proclaimed, world’s tiniest bar was just down the road from our hostel. I argued in my head for awhile about meeting him—I was in love with someone else, after all—but decided, there’s nothing wrong with meeting for a drink. This was happening.

I drank my .18 cent beer with sweaty palms as I watched every passerby from my bar stool, which was one of two bar stools in the tiny bar. I hear my name being called from the shadows. It was him. This hulking figure emerged before me, and the only thing that the tequila shots and I knew what to do, was run and jump in his arms.

No regrets. He caught me and said, “I never thought I would see you!” in his German accent. Instant melt. He gave me a ride on the back of his motorbike (I was hanging on tighter than a virgin’s va-jayjay) down to another bar.


We started getting drinks—he was buying them for me and my friends. As we were talking, he had a slick way of flirting with all three of us (not that I cared…again, I was in love with someone else…but drunk enough to address it).

I started giggling and stated, “Oh, wow! You’re a bit of a man whore!” Now, this is where I learned that I had been hanging out with the British for far too long. These are statements that I had become immune to—they were now child’s play—and the rest of the world is apparently still sensitive. Thor? Thor. Did. Not. Like. It. He started getting very anger, pacing around the bar, and yelling German things at me (I’m assuming they weren’t friendly). Again, since I was drunk, this all became even funnier to me. I let him through his tantrum and said, “Come on now, you’re being a bit of a pussy. Let’s just have some fun.” Thor stopped dead in his tracks.

I can say that I felt a little bad, but I mostly found it extremely entertaining. My friends and I carried on drinking through the night and found ourselves at a restaurant getting drunken snacks around 1am. My phone buzzed. Guess who?

I sat there eating my veggie rolls, watching a soccer game I didn’t care about, and—once again—watching every passerby. Sooner than later, the hulking figure emerged from the darkness once again. Thor. I jumped up (genuinely ready to apologize to each other and have a friendship…or he’ll whisk me off my feet, change my mind about being in love. I mean, I could see the bulge in his pants and I was ready to ride that hammer off into this German sunset).

“Say you’re sorry,” he barked at me as we approached each other.
“…Um…excuse me, what?”
“You’re wrong, now say you’re sorry so we can be together and make love.”
(I think I was supposed to get wet at this point, but it wasn’t quite working). “What? No. We both need to apologize. You were acting like a child.”
“You can’t say those…those THINGS to people!”
I started laughing,


“—WHAT?!” I had done it. I had angered all nine realms of the Marvel comics in one sentence, with one word. Now I watched him get more and more agitated within about 5 seconds.

He danced on his feet as if he didn’t know whether to stay or run away. He was snorting fire out of his nose and holding his mouth as if he had no teeth—lips folding inwards. I was just…standing there. Watching this. I had never seen a grow man act so…pussy-like. But I had learned to keep my mouth shut around this boy, so I didn’t say it. As he tap danced in front of me he finally mustered up the courage to speak (…kinda).

And then he did it.

He hesitantly reached his arm up—several times—while still dancing. He opened and closed his fist. He took one step away from me, ready to run away, before extending his arm up to my face, hand opened wide, and bitch slapped me on my right cheek.

He took off like a bullet into the darkness, probably entering another world while riding his hammer. I remained standing, with my arms crossed, in total disbelief. My two girlfriends who had been watching this whole fiasco, busted out laughing. He was an instant delete on Facebook, and our next round of shots was, “To Thor!”

With Love, Esmeralda!


He Knows What He’s Looking For

I thought I wanted a man who knew what he was looking for, however then I came across this Tinder fellow, and what he’s looking for sounds poorly planned!  It’s October, and you want to go on an international vacation in January??  You usually have to book an international trip a few months in advance, which means you have to book in the next few weeks, which means you want to book an INTERNATIONAL vacation three MONTHS from now with someone you’ve known a few WEEKS??  Sure, that sounds like it’s going to go off without a hitch.

Also love that he threw in the bit about not paying bahahahahaha