That’s NOT How You Kiss!

MR. VERMONT:  Correct me if I’m wrong…but I get the feeling that I’m not a “match” for you?

(If you forgot who Mr. VT is – click here.)

I figured if the man had the guts to ask that sort of question, then he deserved an honest answer.

CARRIE: Yes, you are correct. I have been struggling with the fact that I really like you, but I’m not feeling the “zing.” I was going to tell you tonight after you got out of work. *sad face*

MR. VERMONT:  No problem! Good luck to you, Carrie. It was really nice to have met you. 🙂

CARRIE: I’m sooooooooo sorry. This is the part about dating I really hate and I certainly didn’t want to do this by text! I want you to know that you have renewed my faith that there are still good men out there!

MR. VERMONT: I can always use a good friend…so feel free to stay in touch!

And that, my friends, is how you break it off with someone! The key is to be honest and gracious. The truth may sting, but it’s necessary, because nobody likes to be left hanging.


Later that day, I was writing in my favorite corner, at the Shaskeen, when I got a text from someone who I thought had blown me off: Finance Guy. Why that particular nickname? Well, from what he wrote…it was obvious he was a finance guy!

His first email to me went like this:

“I liked your profile…sounds like you love travel like me. I’m from Danvers, MA but I am actually staying in Laconia NH while I ponder living in Boston, Manchester NH….or New York, City. I returned from Asia two months ago (spent 10 months living in Singapore and Shanghai on a semi-sabbatical from real life) and before that was in technology investment banking. I’ve lived in NYC before (law school at Columbia and now a grad degree from NYU) and if I do choose to live in Boston or Manchester, I will probably buy a place in NYC anyway, because I love visiting my friends there. I ran my own firm for 7 years before my break and made some successful investments. I’ve got a great family too and most of them are spread between northern mass and southern nh.”

Talking about a sales pitch! He intrigued me, so we went back and forth with a few email exchanges, but once I went off to my 10-day trip to Florida, all communication ceased. I got nothing from him, except he asked to let him know when I was back from my trip. Really?

That confused me.

Wasn’t it obvious that I was a hot commodity on the market? Hello! Finance Guy…I’m a tall, smart, pretty red head, never married, no kids. If you asked me, I would think that’s a pretty rare find these days. I’m sorry, are people like me really that abundant? How could he not realize that another guy could easily come by in a 10-day span and capture my attention? Which, by the way, is exactly what happened – Mr. Vermont came into the picture and stole the show, until I met him in person for our first date.

So, there I was, sitting there in my corner at the Shaskeen, surprised to see a text from Finance Guy. But, really, after what I’ve been through over the past few years, nothing surprises me anymore. Screw it. I’m just going to go with the flow…

FINANCE GUY: What are you up to?

CARRIE: I’m in my office cubicle at the Shaskeen, writing. You?

FINANCE GUY: I’m driving by your town right now, do you want me to stop by so we can meet? I have to meet my brother at 7:30pm, so I can’t stay long.

CARRIE: Of course!

FINANCE GUY: OK, I’ll be there in 15 minutes.

I grab my purse and make a mad dash into the Lady’s Room to freshen up. My face looked a little dewy the summer humidity, but it looked fresh – glowing even! However, my mane of red hair was not looking so good as it was doing it’s own thing and having Frizz-Fest. I knew I couldn’t do anything about it – it was just going to have to do.

Walking back to my corner in the bar, I pass Megan, the bartender, a fellow road-grimy single female like myself.

“You are not going to believe this,” I tell her, “I’m meeting another guy here in ten minutes.”

I sit down and try to keep working, but we all know that wasn’t happening…

When Fiance Guy walked into the Shaskeen, the first thing I notice was his build. Six-foot-two and 47-years old…wow, lookin’ pretty damn good for his age. He had a very square face – typical Irish features – oh, and very short hair and blue eyes and, of course, big man hands…

I’m interested!

We sit down at a table and we both order a Harpoon UFO – my favorite. The conversation was flowing and the attraction was mutual. Nathan arrives for work and came over to say hello to me. I introduce him to my date, and they ended up having a brief conversation. Nathan is good like that – he’s always gracious and eager to talk with anyone who walks into his bar. (Personally, I really think he should run for mayor, because he’d definitely win.)

A half hour later, Finance Guy announces he has to leave. It was an awkward moment as we stood there. Do we shake hands? Do I hug him? I could tell he wanted to hug me, but he hesitated and said, sounding a little panicked while looking over his shoulder at Nathan,”Your brother is over there.”

Coyly, I replied, “So what! He’s not looking now,” and gave him a kiss on the check.

Three days later we meet in Boston for a drink. Boston! I had not visited the city in years, so I was really excited to be there.

We meet at the Westin Hotel bar. He was staying there because he was flying out of Logan Airport to Washington DC the following morning to pick up his two kids so he could have them for a week. Originally, our plan was to have a drink in the lounge and then go watch some live music, but our conversations just kept going, so we ended up staying at the bar.

Two beers and three hours later, he invited me to his hotel room for a glass of wine. I knew he just wanted to get me to his room so he could kiss me. So, I agreed but, only on one condition – that he behaved himself! Shortly after he poured the wine, he went for the kiss. The whole evening had gone well, so I wasn’t expecting what happened next.

Slowing he brought his mouth up to mine and then without warning, without even kissing my lips, he stuck his whole entire friggin’ tongue in my mouth!  Making things worse (I know…what can be worse than that?) is the fact that at the same time he was shoving his huge tongue in my mouth, I had instinctively reached around his 6’2″ frame and put my hand on his back – only to feel something crunchy under my hand. It was a double whammy. Oh, God noooooo…!!!!! Pulling back, I gently said to him, “Can you please not use your tongue?” and then proceeded to try to kiss him, thinking that, maybe, I could show him how to kiss properly…

Fat chance.

He was a hopeless case, and because I was so grossed out by the fact that my hand touched what might have been a very hairy back just pushed me past the point of no return.

The sirens and fire alarms were all going off in my head.

Please step away from the man and find the nearest exit. Carrie, this is an emergency. Please find the nearest exit and leave. Do not walk – run!

Look, there is hair on a man’s back, which, hey, some men have it which I don’t mind – and then there is this guy’s back! I was horrified. No, I was horrified, grossed out, and beside myself at the same time. How in the world could this man have been married for ten years. Ten years?! I couldn’t even get past the first kiss with him – never mind shacking up with him for ten long years!

Trying to be cool and not show my utter disgust, I left, but he insisted on walking me to my car, which was in the garage a few blocks away from the hotel. It was raining, so once we got to my car I told him that I would give him a ride back. I know, I can’t help myself…I’m too freaking nice…even after someone shoves their whole tongue in my mouth.

Ick! Ick! Ick!

We got into my car and as I drove up to the garage exit and the automated parking attendant announces that owe $30. Thirty dollars! And wouldn’t you know, Finance Guy…yes, that’s right, “Mr. I Shit Money”…didn’t even reach for his wallet. So, I’m out of money and I get assaulted by his nasty tongue…

God has a horrible sense of humor and, believe me, I’m not laughing.

The ride home felt like an eternity, because all I could think about was how much I wanted to wash my mouth out with Listerine.  Scope wouldn’t have cut it.  I needed the heavy-duty Listerine and, of course, lucky me, I didn’t even have a bottle of water in my car, or even one measly stick of gum. Nothing. I even dug to the depths of my purse and frantically searched all four corners hoping to find something.



Seriously, if I had found a used wad of gum stuck inside a crumpled-up wrapper that had been there for months, I would have popped that sucker right in my mouth and happily chewed it like it was the freshest piece of gum I had ever had. But, why would I have such luck?

Lesson learned: Never, under any circumstances, leave the house without gum.  Ever.

The following day I told Beth about my horrific date.

CARRIE: Can I break up with him via text?

BETH: Yes.

CARRIE: Sweet! 😀

BETH: What are you going to say?

CARRIE: “Although I really enjoyed our first date, I don’t feel as though the chemistry is there for me to go on a 2nd date…”

BETH: Oh – that’s perfect.

CARRIE: “….because you don’t know how to kiss and you shoved your big NASTY tongue in my mouth and it MADE ME WANT TO VOMIT.”

BETH: STOP! Now I gotta vomit!

Next time a guy decides to shove his tongue in my mouth like that, I’m taking my friend Lisa’s advice and I’m just going to bite the thing off!

Next! Next! Next!

This Is How You Breakup

I have to post this – this is from a year ago from a guy that I dated: HarvardScorpio.  We met on Match from Hell and I was happy as hell with him because he was one of those really good looking guys who didn’t know it.  Plus, he was a Harvard graduate, a Freemason and had lived in Boston for 10 years.  (You know I like my New England men!) 

The dates were good and the kissing made me melt.  Man, was he a good kisser.  (It must be a Scorpio thing.)  Everything was going great, but I could feel something wrong was in the air – I just couldn’t put my finger on it.


That was until I got this email from him:


Hmmmmm….I am writing to tell you that I have to stop pursuing a relationship with you.

I must apologize.  I have been talking with my ex-girlfriend, as it seems that there are still unsettled issues.  I kind of feel like a fool, after all of the conversations we have had about it…but…I do still have strong feelings for her.  It seems they are easy to avoid when you are not talking, and re-surface when you are…

I remember you talking about that self-centered guy, who didn’t really care about anyone, but himself.  So, I am trying to show you respect by being truthful with you and taking the time to express my feelings.

Carrie, I can’t say enough wonderful things about you – you reminded me of a lot of things that were once important to me that I hadn’t thought about for quite awhile.  You really are something else.  A real lady – a dying breed.  I am grateful for the time that we spent together, and don’t think that I will ever forget you. I hope that you can take the time that we spent together at face value, and understand that it was genuine.

I don’t know if you are able to still keep in touch, but I would like to, and would feel lucky to consider you a friend. 

I really did want to call, but I am afraid all of this would not come out the right way! Please understand…

My deepest respect,


So, that was that.  I really appreciated his honesty and the fact that he didn’t just stop calling, like most boys do.  Clearly, he was a man with integrity and knew I deserved to know the truth.  Yes, it stung, but it was the right thing to do.  And I realized it wasn’t about me.  He was still in love with his ex.  (They had only been broken up for a month after being together for two years.)  So, even though we really liked each other, I could understand why he chose her and not me.


Plus, it was a nice gesture to want to stay friends and quite the compliment, but I just couldn’t watch he and his girlfriend go off and live happily ever after.  That would have been pouring the salt on the wound.

I did send him a really nice reply – a nice, sweet email wishing him well but that I couldn’t be friends with him.

I’m so fucking gracious.

You know I’ll be adding this one to the long list of reasons why I’m still single: He went back to his ex-girlfriend.  Check!

I’m getting really tired of saying this, but…


Don’t Show Up to a Gun Fight with a Stapler

CHRIS:  How did your date go?

ME:  Well, as predicted, he was super great guy, but no spark.  Even after having 2.5 glasses of wine, I still didn’t feel like I wanted to kiss him.  And now, he’s totally enamored with me.

CHRIS:  Wow, that’s too bad.  Not even a pity kiss.  Poor guy.

ME:  He showed up in a short-sleeve plaid shirt.  He looked like something out of a JC Penny catalog.  😦

CHRIS:  The poor sap, didn’t have a chance… He showed up to a gun fight with a stapler.

ME:  I think he’s already planning our future together and I’m so not feeling it.  I HATE DATING.

Mr. Vermont was in fact a great guy.  He was good-looking (for his age), established, and knew how to court a girl.  You could tell he was new to the dating scene, because he didn’t hold back his feelings:

MR. VT:  How did I get so lucky? You are the complete package…everything I desire…and more.  🙂

ME:  Awwwww…thank you!  I always thought guys who didn’t get me were big, stupid faces – BIG!  But, thank you for noticing…  You are a great guy, I’m surprised someone hasn’t scooped you up yet.

MR. VT:  Some have tried, but honestly, I have been looking for you…

ME:  *falls out of chair*

MR. VT:  Wish I was there to scoop you up…

He just did everything right from the start and really knew how to make me smile.  It was the simple things like sending me a text in the middle of the day just to let me know he was thinking about me.  Nothing over the top.  He was just thoughtful and sweet.  He even took down his profile from Match from Hell before we met and told me that he just wanted to focus on me – and then he gave me his home phone number.  (Who does that?)  But, it was so nice.  It was refreshing to be pursued by someone who knew what he wanted from the start.

We met on Match from Hell while I was on my Florida 10-day trip with Beth (which, by the way, was SO much better than going to DC for three days!). Mr. Vermont and I both agreed that we wanted to meet as soon as I got back from my trip.  But, after discussing our busy plans over the weekend, we decided to meet that we would have to wait until the following week.  I left it up to him to pick a day during the week and without hesitation he said, “How about Monday night?”

ME:  Do you want me to meet you half way? It is a 1.5 hour ride you know…

MR. VT:  I’ll go the whole way.  You know the area over there.  Pick a nice place for dinner, and I’ll meet you there.

What?  He was going to drive to me?  For once, I didn’t have to go out of my way to meet someone? For once?!


I was looking forward to meeting him, although I knew I wasn’t feeling the same excitement as I did when I first met DC Dude.  But, I was tired of the bad boys and just really wanted to give a good guy a chance.

I had the whole weekend to kill before meeting up with Mr. Vt.   Saturday comes and a few of the girls from the Hen House rally to meet up for drinks and appetizers. I was feeling extra Kitty-Kitty, Meow-Meow because I just had my hair done and I had just came back from Florida the night before.  And, for once, I had a little color on my skin.

(That SPF70 really does work!)

Sporting my high heels and my Victoria Secrets halter-top added the finishing touches to my outfit.  But leave it up to Victoria Secrets to make the plunging v-neck halter top squeeze the girls a bit too much.   I didn’t want to shock anyone with my cleavage, so I decided to tie my cashmere cardigan around my neck, remembering that I only wanted good attention and not the wrong attention.  As usual, I went for the classy, but sexy look.

We get to the first bar, it’s just four of us girls.  I knew it was going to be a great night, because Julie had me laughing even before I ordered my first drink.  We sat down and at a table and DC Dude’s name came up.

Well into my first drink, I throw out a conversation question to the girls: “Why do boys send penis pictures, when they know we will be sharing it with everyone?”  DC Dude and I were over and knowing that I had no allegiance to him anymore, I showed the girls the picture he sent to me on my cell phone.

Julie’s look on her face was priceless. “Who is that?!” she exclaimed.

“It’s DC Dude.”

“Oh, my God!  It’s like the Washington Monument!”


Without a missing a beat, one of the other girls announced that she actually kept a special folder on her cell phone for all of the penis pictures she receives.


We have another round of drinks and order appetizers before we decided to head over to my brother’s bar.

It was a good crowd at The Shaskeen and we got prime real estate – front and center at the bar.  Even though the bar was crowded and Nathan was busy serving up drinks, as soon as he spotted me, he threw down his towel and walked around to the end of the bar through the crowd and gave me a big hug.

That’s code right there…

As the girls continued with the debauchery, I was happily texting Mr. Vermont all night long, until I spotted two very tall guys walk into the bar together. One of them happened to be Rachel’s 27-year old cousin from Boston.  As they staggered over to us looking like a hot mess from all-night dancing, the first thing out of the cousin’s mouth was, “I’m so drunk!”

That’s when bad-girl side of me came out.

*twisting tip of my sinister mustache*

Even with my high-heels, both guys were still taller than me and both of them were still really wound up for clubbing.

Look, this was a no-brainer.  Boston Boy had his eyes set on me, there was no doubt about that as he kept talking and flirting with me.  I feel bad saying this, but I felt so much “zing” with Boston Boy that I quickly forgot about Mr. Vt and tossed my phone into my purse.  From that moment on, it was all about Boston Boy.  I know, that’s really bad, isn’t it…

For the record, I normally ignore stupid-face drunk boys, but Boston Boy was all up in my personal space and was full of the devil.  Boston Boy had game.  You know how it is, when a guy knows just how to put his hand on your hip and knows how to lean in – just enough – to say something in your ear, but then his lips end up oh-so close to yours?

*fanning myself*

Well, it was like that.  He was doing a good job at pushing my buttons and, apparently, pushing the envelope with Nathan.  My poor brother got to see all of Boston Boy’s moves on me – this I know, because, all of a sudden, I hear Nathan yelling from behind me at the bar.

I quickly turned around as soon as Nathan yelled my name, “Hey Carrie, do I have to remind your friend whose house he’s in?!


I turned back to my drunk Boston Boy, “That guy behind the bar, he owns this place…”

“I don’t care…” as he stared at my mouth and leaned in to what appeared to be his attempt to kiss me. I immediately thought to myself that this guy seriously wants to die.

“Well, he’s also my brother. So, behave.”

“I don’t care who he is. Can I kiss you?  I want to kiss you…”

I smiled and pushed him away from me, “Not if you value your life.”

I sat down on the bar stool hoping that crossing my legs in front of him might put some much-needed space between us.  (At least until we left the bar.)

Two of my girlfriends left, so it was just me and Rachel with her cousin and Boston Boy.  At closing time, we all walked out of the bar together as the guys were talking about going to get something to eat.  My mind, however, wasn’t on food.  All I could think about was getting out of my brother’s radar, which I estimated was about 20 feet or so from the entrance of the bar.

As soon as I thought we were at a safe distance from the bar and Hammer’s (the bouncer) view, I stopped Boston Boy on the sidewalk and gave him a long, passionate kiss.

And you know what?  That drunken train-wreck was a damn good kisser!


All four of us piled into Red Rocket and we drove off to the Airport Diner to get something to eat. Those boys needed to sober up!

Sitting in the dinner booth, I happily snuggled up next to Boston Boy who had his great man-hands in mine.  But, poor Rachel sat there teasing me as she pouted about the fact that the only boy left to flirt with was her very good-looking cousin sitting next to her.  Adding to Rachel’s frustration was the fact that Boston Boy kept kissing me but, I didn’t have a care in the world at that point.  He was a damn good kisser.

Breakfast with Boston Boy and Rachel’s cousin was pure entertainment.  Together, those two had us both rolling with laughter.   Even our waitress would double over with laughter listening to the guys banter back and forth.

On the ride home, Rachel offered for all of us to crash at her place.  Her cousin got the couch and Boston Boy and I got her son’s twin bed.

Twin bed.

While Rachel was trying to be hospitable and telling us where everything is, she suddenly realizes that her kid’s bed was going to be used for something other than sleeping. I didn’t care. I had a hot guy and I had condoms in my purse.


I’m sure you’re reading this going, who is this girl?  She never hooks-up with anyone.  But, let me tell you, it took me about a whole five seconds to make the decision to spend the night, because even good girls need to be bad every once in a while.  And who was I to say no to his 6’3″ hard-body and thick Boston accent?????


 And a tattoo!  I love surprises!

In the middle of the night, I remember asking myself, “Why am I not doing this more often?!!!!!”  It was a good question I really needed to ponder at a later time.  And, despite the small, twin bed, Boston Boy and I made it work.

…and then we made it work again in the morning.


ME:  OMG…what a great night! He was great.  He knew how to push my buttons.  Crazy fucker…and of course, I didn’t do any “Princess” maintenance in weeks!  Maybe months!

RACHEL:  OMG!  My kid’s bed!  Gross!

ME:  Well, at least I made sure to throw away the used condoms!  And wrapper… Can you imagine if your kid found it?  “Mommy, what’s this?”  LMAO  I’m sorry, but that’s funny.

RACHEL:  I’m grossed out!  I’m washing the sheets now – do I have to worry about any stuffed animals?

ME:  No stuffed animals were harmed during the night.  What a great way to start my summer.  It was his damn Boston accent that did me in. I’m such a sucker for it. I felt like I was in a Ben Affleck and Matt Damon movie.

Two days later, I had my first date with 47-year old, Mr. Vermont, for dinner.  I knew in the back of my head that going from a hot 27-year old to a 47-year old was a long shot, but I was determined to give nice-guy Mr. Vermont a chance.

Monday night, we met at 6:30pm at Fire Fly, but when I first saw him, I felt no zing.  It was flat.  He showed up wearing khaki’s and a short-sleeved plaid summer shirt.  Was it wishful thinking to hope that, maybe, Mr. VT might have a little swagger?  Maybe I would feel different after a glass of wine…

Dinner was great, the conversation flowed and even though “the girls” were showing, I never caught him looking at them the whole night. Not once.

We drank a whole bottle of Merlot, which usually turns me into the “Kissing Bandit,” but I still didn’t feel anything.  Not one single urge to kiss him. Nadda. So, all he got at the end of the night was a hug.

After my date, I went to The Shaskeen.  I really needed to pee before I drove home, so I stopped in, hoping that I could seek some council with Nathan, but he wasn’t there.  Instead, I spotted Megan, one the of the bartenders, sitting outside on the patio with her friends.

“How did your date go with Mr. Vermont?”

“It was great.  He’s great.  But I think my little romp with Boston Boy on Saturday night killed any chance Mr. Vermont might have had.  I swear, Megs, Mr. Vermont looked like he just walked out of a JC Penny catalog:  Short-sleeved, plaid shirt and khaki’s.  Look at me!” I said, pointing to myself while I stood there in my sexy black high-heels and pencil skirt. “Why can’t I find someone between crazy, train-wreck Boston Boy and super-nice, plaid-shirt Mr. Vermont guy?!!!  Why?!”

*big lip*

The following day, I text Julie:

ME:  I think I’m broken.  Mr. VT is such a nice, normal guy and I feel nothing for him.  But, give me crazy, train-wreck dude from Boston, and I’m totally hot for him.

JULIE:  Vermont is just that – normal, nice, regular, comfortable.  You thrive in huge lights and wild times that are spontaneous – wine ’em, dine ’em….69 ’em.

ME:  You got that right!  LMAO…

I definitely need to reconsider my summer dating game plan…