So I was at the Staten Island Yankees (minor league) ball game last night, and I was haranguing my brother (as usual). Or, I should say, several dates with the same female human. Reached on an error - you convince her the scratch marks are from a cat.
Double play - she tells you that she doesn't want to see you anymore AND that she was faking it.
There is something oddly gratifying about making split second judgments about people.
Swiping left over and over and over again until someone catches my eye and I venture further to scan their pictures and see what they have deemed tagline worthy.
Here's my interpretation First Base: Frenchin' Second Base: Breasteses (clothed or unclothed) Third Base: Digital manipulation of genitalia Home Run: Rubbing the Bacon (side note - where the hell did this euphemism come from? I know how it is when the name's on the tip of your tongue.
When you were dating your man, you ate dinners for which you didn’t pay and walked through doors that he opened for you. To my fourth-basers: I love you more than words can say. I’ll dust off my fancy jeans, we can eat Thai coconut soup and talk about not our kids. Fourth base for moms is so much better than dating fourth base.I know three years is a long time, but I don't feel ready and I want to wait a while longer.It's a pretty major step in my opinion (though to him it seems to not be as significant). None of our immediate friends are in long-term relationships currently, so I have no comparison basis.Evan, to say I’m frustrated with dating right now is an understatement!During the past six months, almost EVERY man I’ve gone out with expects sex by the third date. It doesn’t matter if it’s a man I’ve met on an online dating site or if it’s a blind date through a friend. Naturally, being a bit of a bully, I pressed for more details. Inside the park homer - you score..only because she was drunk. Ejected from the game - fatal heart attack during sex.