I can’t catch a break. Apparently there is no middle ground for me in the online dating world. I either meet a guy that won’t text me back for days or I meet a guy that when he doesn’t hear back from me within….8 minutes….turns into a needy little bitch.

Which brings me to Tony, a 36-year-old decent looking guy with a good IT job and his own house (in the same town as me) who would flip out if I didn’t respond to his texts RIGHT AWAY….

5:58pm – Tony: Can I call u when off train
6:01pm – Tony: ??
6:06pm – Tony: Guess not
6:09pm – WinterInNYC: I put my phone down!

The funniest part about this is that I’m a super fast responder to texts. Most of my friends know that if I don’t text back right away it means I’m having sex, taking a shower, driving or pissed at them. So for someone to freak out on me for not responding quickly enough only showed me that this guy was fucking suffocating.

At 9pm Tony called me and we had a great conversation. We talked for over an hour and when I hung up with him I was optimistic that I had just met a really nice guy. I’d just ignore his earlier texts…I’m sure that’s not his norm!

I was getting ready to throw on some porn and get into bed with my vibrator when I got a text…

Tony: Sweet dreams
WinterInNYC: 🙂 u too
Tony: u are adorable
WinterInNYC: 🙂
Tony: I was really sad to hang up you are really easy to talk to
WinterInNYC: Thanks – there will be more to come
Tony: What type phone u got?
WinterInNYC: Iphone
Tony: Facetime for a min with me
WinterInNYC: No
Tony: Why
WinterInNYC: Bc I’m tired and not wearing makeup and ready for bed
Tony: Stop I don’t care
WinterInNYC: But I do – please….
Tony: Not nice at all
WinterInNYC: I am nice – Gnite Tony
Tony: Wow
WinterInNYC : I’m tired
Tony: Whatever that is mean
WinterInNYC: No its not!
Tony: It is. I leave you alone sorry

But the mother-fucker DIDN’T leave me alone…for the next 30 minutes I had to explain to him why I didn’t want to Facetime and why he should be more understanding.

He just wouldn’t take no for an answer! The memory of our first great phone conversation quickly vanished and was replaced by this ridiculously horrible nonsense child-like texting. He was exhausting and this was the first day we started talking….

I finally turned off my phone realizing he had drained all of my energy. Bad night all around! Not only was I too tired to play with my vagina but I was pretty confident that Tony had one too.

We were off to a great start!



The past few months a lot of the men I have blogged about have unexpectedly popped back into my life! So here are a few updates on some of my mistakes men:

If It Has Tits Or Tires It’s Gonna Cost You _ _ _ _ _!

After countless Google searches I finally figured out Casey’s last name, which led me to his Facebook page. I was dying to “friend” him but worried he would think I’m a psychotic stalker who can’t take a hint….

But then I thought, who the fuck cares what he thinks about me!

Two weeks after my friend request Casey surprisingly accepted and sent me a message. We chatted through Facebook pretty sporadically. I didn’t bring up the weekend he stood me up or the fact that he deserved to have his balls bitten off by a wild bear. What was the point?

Last week I messaged him letting him know that I was headed back to PA for the weekend. I joked that if he saw my car he should wave….or hide!

Casey responsed by suggesting we get together. Wait! What?

Although every cell in my body told me not to make plans with him….I really really really wanted to see him! 90% because I knew I’d get a good blog story out of it. The other 10%…well because he’s fucking hot!

Saturday afternoon….

Casey: Hey what’s up! You having fun?
WinterInNYC: I am! Went to a shooting range – shot a 9mm and a 38 special!
Casey: Nice
WinterInNYC: How r u?
Casey: I’m good
WinterInNYC: Wanna grab a drink?
Casey: Would. But my car is broke, goes in the garage Monday and don’t have money to blow
WinterInNYC: No worries
Casey: Sorry

At least he apologized…this time!

If A Penis Enters Your Vagina, But You Don’t Feel It, Does It _ _ _ _ _?

One night while browsing on Jdate I received a flirt from the 24 year old one night-stand (now 25). I wrote back to the flirt “Do you think you are funny?” He then texted me begging me to accept his apology and let him make it up to me by taking me out.

I had NO interest in starting anything up with him again considering that I had the worst sex of my life with him….BUT….I was curious to find out what happened and why he stopped talking to me.

So I asked him why he had ignored my texts and he told me that he was going through a rough time at home at the time. Supposedly his father had lost his job and it was putting a strain on the family.

Hold on…your dad got laid off from work and as a result you couldn’t/wouldn’t answer a text from a woman you had your dick inside of 24 hours earlier?

Although I had told him that I wasn’t interested in starting anything up again…he kept texting me and asking to take me out.

I finally told him that I would consider meeting him out for a drink if he was truthful with me about why he ignored me those many months ago.

That finally got him to stop texting!

And the grand finale of comebacks…….

My 7-Day All Inclusive Cruise To _ _ _ _. (Part 1)

My 7-Day All Inclusive Cruise to _ _ _ _. (Part 2)

A Million _ _ _ _ _ And I Recognized Yours!

This past Wednesday night I was woken up by a text at 11:58pm….

Shithead: How’s ___________? Congrats on the new job

I didn’t respond.

It felt really good.

Chaffed, sore and in desperate need of vaginal rejuvenation, I shuffled to the supermarket with Charlie one Sunday afternoon.

Charlie didn’t have a lot of money and I did. I was working at the bookstore to keep myself from hanging from my shower rod over a broken heart whereas Charlie worked there for a living. Our weekly paychecks were quite different and I had to learn how to date a guy who couldn’t afford to take me out….ever!

So instead we stayed in, opened my unused cookbooks and planned our meals together.

On this particular day, we decided to make chili, a very cheap meal (perfect for Charlie) where all we had to do was throw all of the ingredients into a slow cooker and let it simmer (perfect for me).

We walked up and down the aisles of the supermarket together and shopped for the necessary ingredients. All the while, I was trying to trick my brain into believing that this super romantic rendezvous to Gristedes (not even Food Emporium might I add) was far more enjoyable than sitting at an outdoor restaurant along 2nd Avenue sipping dirty martinis, eating $18.00 bowls of pasta and people watching.

We finished our shopping and headed towards the check-out.

Paying for food was always uncomfortable for me while I dated Charlie. I was torn. Part of me wanted Charlie to pay because he was the guy. But, I knew he didn’t make as much money as I did and since I didn’t want money to get in the way of our relationship, I wound up paying for food…A LOT!

At the register we agreed to split the groceries in half so I grabbed a bunch of items and left the rest in the cart for Charlie to pay for.

The check-out girl scanned my bag of kidney beans.
The check-out girl scanned my onions.
The check-out girl scanned my can of peeled and diced tomatoes.
The check-out girl scanned my chili powder.

With a few more items left to go, I glanced over and caught Charlie gently placing a can of corn on the conveyor belt.

He was trying to sneak a fucking can of corn onto the conveyor belt to add to my groceries. An $0.89 can of corn!!

This sly, immature and unattractive maneuver had nothing to do with the size of his bank account….he was being a cheap mother fucker!

When I caught him in the act he gave me this childlike shrug, lifted the can and placed it back into the cart. He reminded me of a kid trying to get his mommy to buy him the snickers bar she already said no to.

That day, not only was my vagina damaged, but also our relationship.

Two weeks before I graduated from college I finally caught the eye of a guy who was in a couple of my classes. On my 22nd birthday, also the day of one of our final exams, Jared handed me a birthday card. We hadn’t spoken much throughout the semester so I was surprised by this show of affection. Unsure if this was just a friendly gesture or if he was actually interested, I sat down to take my final exam and tried to figure out what do when the test ended.

If Jared finished the exam first, he would leave before me and I wouldn’t know how to get in touch with him. This was before social media existed.

Fortunately, I raced through my exam and finished 1st. Before handing in my exam I wrote a quick note to Jared thanking him for the card and gave him my number.

I threw the note on his desk, handed in my exam and left.

Two days later Jared called me and asked me out on a date.

Jared was a geek but I liked him. We were both CIS majors and while I loved this major for its web design opportunities and earning potential Jared truly loved computers and was a genius working with them. I was starved for a relationship (sadly it had been almost 4 years since my last). His computer skills truly impressed me and to top things off he was Jewish and cute.

We starting dating and I was so happy to have a guy in my life again.

One night I drove to Jared’s house and we decided to go to Starbucks for some coffee. We had been dating for about 3 weeks at this point.

Starbucks was packed so we decided to sit in Jared’s car for a bit drinking our coffee before heading back to his house.

I was pleasantly sipping my cappuccino thinking how content I was to be sitting in my boyfriend’s car on a date when all of a sudden a vomitous smell came over me. I was being suffocated by the most rancid grotesque smell imaginable.

Jared had farted.

Jared must have been dying from the inside out that night because this was no ordinary fart. I’d been hot boxed before. I’d been dutch ovened before. I had NEVER experienced a smell so repulsive before in my life.

I was mortified. Not comfortable AT ALL with talking about flatulence and never letting one rip in front of a guy, I didn’t know how to handle this explosive diarrhea funk I was forced to bath in.

So like a true lady, I opened the window and just pretended I didn’t smell anything.

At some point with the help of some fresh spring air, the smell dissipated. Jared offered to throw my empty coffee cup away and although I was hesitant to give up my self-made oxygen mask, I reluctantly handed my empty coffee cup over and Jared got out of the car.

I realize now that Jared most definitely got out of the car to continue his intestinal explosions while he walked to the garbage can because when he got back into the car the aroma quickly returned.

Obviously, Jared was fighting something vicious that night.

The ride back to his house was the longest 10 minutes of my life. My head was hanging so far out of the open window that I looked like this….


When we finally got to his house I smelled like a dirty diaper. Every part of me smelled. His stench was so wicked that it attached itself to my hair. It soaked through my clothes. I felt like there was a heavy layer of stank on my skin that I needed to scrape off with a shovel. What can I say…I was attacked by a silent but deadly fart that evening…and I lost.

We went up to Jared’s bedroom and he quickly excused himself to run to the bathroom. I’m guessing he released whatever demon was bubbling up inside of him because he was gone for a good 15 minutes. When he finally returned I told him that it was getting late and I would head home.

He agreed and said he wasn’t feeling well anyway.

Yeah, no shit!

I drove home laughing hysterically not believing that I was just abused by my boyfriend, olfactory style.

I’m fishing. I’ve been fishing. I’ve been fishing my entire life. I’m sitting in the same fancy boat with my bedazzled rod and my yummy bait and I’m waiting…for years I’ve been waiting. I’m pretending that fishing is fun. I won’t admit that I’m losing hope. I won’t admit that my patience is wearing thin. I’m still waiting for a healthy delicious attractive fish to come along and get hooked but instead I wind up (sea)sick and (sun)burned with smelly fingers and I’m alone because I had to throw back the crap fish I did catch that werent fit for human consumption.

My last two rejects catches….

Name: Steve
Location: Queens
Age: 34
Employment: Insurance Adjuster

Steve: What do you do?
WinterInNYC: I’m a __________ __________ in the city.
Steve: Ouch
WinterInNYC: Yeah
Steve: Long commute 😦
WinterInNYC: Its ok. 45 min on the train.
Steve: That’s not that awful, you must get a bunch of reading done
WinterInNYC: I do! Do you read books?
Steve: Mostly magazines. U? 50 shades? Lol
WinterInNYC: I read a lot – and yes I’ve read 50 but it’s not my normal type of read
Steve: Uh huh sure lol
WinterInNYC: 😛
Steve: Bad girl! I like it
WinterInNYC: Why does that make me bad?
Steve: I hear its naughty
WinterInNYC: Read it and find out.
Steve: That book may be a little much for my virgin eyes and ears

I didn’t feel the need to find out if Steve really was a virgin. But I knew that if my reading of 50 Shades of Grey made me a “bad girl” in Steve’s eyes then one perusal of the contents of my night table would result in Steve cumming in his panties or crapping them (maybe both…at the same time).


Name: Frank
Location: Long Beach
Age: 37
Employment: Electrician

Frank: Can I ask you a personal question?
WinterInNYC: Ok
Frank: I better not u might get mad 😦
WinterInNYC: Might as well ask now that you brought it up!
Frank: Do u wear thongs or g-strings?
WinterInNYC: Strippers wear g-strings – is that what ur looking for?
Frank: Not only strippers wear g-strings silly guess u wear grandma undies lol
Frank: I guess u aren’t interested I will delete your number

This time…I have no words.


The 1st guy I went on a date with after Matt and I broke up was a guy named Jason who sold copiers.

First date was at a local Spanish restaurant where we sat at the bar drinking sangria.

After 3.5 years of sitting at sports bars watching my boyfriend down pitcher after pitcher of Guinness, not giving a shit that I wasn’t a bar person, beer person, or sports person, I found the date enjoyable.

After a few hours of drinking and getting to know each other, Jason and I left and started walking home. Right before we parted ways, Jason stopped me on the sidewalk, pushed me up against a building and started kissing me.

Now this should have been a super hot/romantic moment for me except it wasn’t because Jason was the worst kisser I had ever met! Jason shoved his tongue deep into my mouth and then just left it there. His thick wet limp tongue just sat in my mouth not moving and the only way for me to get it out of my mouth was to move my head away from his. Twice during a 60 second kiss I had to jerk my head away or risk feeding him my digested sangria like a mommy bird feeds her chicks.

I thanked Jason for a nice date and headed home.

Jason texted me the next day and asked if he could make me dinner the following night. Hoping the kissing would get better (I mean it couldn’t possibly get any worse), I agreed.

So on one of the hottest days of the year (I think it was 102 in the city that day) I walked to Jason’s apartment. Arriving promptly at 7pm with severe swamp crotch, I entered Jason’s apartment and couldn’t believe that a guy who lived in such a dump, would invite a girl over so early in the dating process, if he was looking to impress.

Our romantic dinner was served on this…

TV Tray

After dinner Jason didn’t waste any time trying to make out with me and once again I had to fight off my gag reflex. He truly was the worst kisser I had ever encountered.

I finally faked a yawn (it was 8:30pm) and told him that I had to get home since I had work the next day.

I sent a nice text the following morning, thanking him for dinner but admitted that I wasn’t ready to start dating yet. A lie obviously, but if I was being honest I would have texted something along the lines of: “Thanks for dinner but I would rather lick the sweaty balls of my cab driver who drove me home last night than kiss you ever again.”

That was 1.5 years ago.

Driving up to Vermont last week:

WinterInNYC: How was that date you went on a few weeks ago?

Dr. Habibi: Eh…the guy was ok looking and the date was going well but then he kissed me and it was horrible!

WinterInNYC: Ugh! That’s the worst.

Dr. Habibi: I even let him try again later in the evening thinking it would get better and it didn’t!

WinterInNYC: I’ve been there my friend, I’ve been there!

Dr. Habibi: It’s so disappointing…no sparks at all! And these guys I’m meeting on Jdate have horrible jobs. Some are even unemployed. It’s so frustrating!

WinterInNYC: Hello! I dated a barista!

Dr. Habibi: I know. I know. The bad kisser sold copiers!


I was extremely depressed and lonely after Brian broke up with me. I remember coming home from work the first few weeks after the break-up and just sitting on my couch, staring at the 4 walls and wiping away tears that were running down my face.

I decided that I needed to take my mind off of my heartache so I started applying for a part-time job. Somewhere I could work after my full-time job during the week and also on the weekends. I didn’t need the money but I did need to get out of my apartment, take my mind off of my ex, stop logging onto Jdate to see if he was shopping around for someone prettier or thinner or smarter, stop feeling sorry for myself and hopefully meet some new people.

So I started working at a bookstore.

Which is where I met Charlie and his gigantic cock.

Charlie was a fellow bookseller who asked me out pretty randomly one night before our shift ended. I didn’t know much about him but agreed to the date since he was decent looking, extremely tall (6’4″) and loved to read.

I found out on our first date that Charlie was born in Utah, which is apparently where cocks gone wild are bred.

Charlie had to be close to 12”. It was HUGE. It was long and thick and frankly pretty fucking scary to a girl who had a vagina that was extremely comfortable with a 5” dick inside of it. 6” = Great. 7” = Fabulous. 8” = Oh thank you Jesus! But 12”??? Really? I was in shock! I was excited! I was moving to Utah!

I like to have sex…A LOT! But I quickly learned that a lot of sex with a great big cock severely interfered with my bedroom plans unfortunately.

This was what a fly on my apartment wall would have heard me say on a typical weekend while I attemped to fuck Charlie:

Friday Night – “Just go slow in the beginning, I need to get used to you.”
Saturday Morning – “Ow! Are you using enough lube? It fucking hurts!”
Saturday Night – “Can you please just cum already? I can’t take much more of this!”
Sunday Morning – “Holy fuck! I’m rubbed raw! Get out of me now! NOW!”
Sunday Night – “Can you please just jerk off in the shower?”

This went on for 7 months.

The worst part about his monster cock was that the whole time we dated I kept worrying that he was ruining my vagina. My tight, never had a baby, performed kegle exercises every day since I was 18 years old vagina, was being stretched out and permanently damaged and I’d become some loose fuck hole tampons would fall out of and no normal sized penis could enjoy.

I’m happy to share that my vagina survived this relationship, as per the 3 losers I slept with after him.

But in the end, there are just some dicks that are too big to handle, pun intended.

My sister introduced me to him when I was 24. Although I enjoyed his company and thought he was sweet, at times, he could be super annoying, loud and a bit clingy. But his cute face and loving personality made it easy for me to invite him into my bedroom.

The girl was one of my best friends. For the past 10 years she has been there for me through the good times and bad. Super cute and extremely loving, she knows just what to do to put a smile on my face. We trust each other unconditionally.

The two of them didn’t exactly love each other. Never have. They were fighting over my attention all night.

I didn’t really want to deal with their jealously issues but it was nice to feel wanted.

Throughout the night there was lots of licking, lots of touching and some biting here and there. Just how I like it!

I barely slept with both of them in my bed. When I woke up in the morning I was exhausted.

I had no regrets but I couldn’t wait to change my sheets, take a shower and send the guy packing.

I took a picture in the morning to remember my first threesome


I really need to get out more!

I used to swallow. I used to swallow my boyfriend’s cum with such eagerness and genuine pleasure that you would have thought he was spewing out a magical serum that would have either made my double chin disappear, my nose shrink or turn my hair permanently straight.

I would have used it as hair conditioner. I would have brushed my teeth with it. Fuck, I would have spread it on an everything bagel and topped it off with some lox if it meant keeping him.

Why? Because I was infatuated with him, that’s why! Besides the fact that I was ridiculously attracted to Ryan, he was also the first guy I loved and I would have done anything to make him see that I was the best girlfriend he could ever hope for. My friends had told me that swallowing vs. spitting really turned a guy on, therefore I was swallowing…and I was swallowing hard and often.

The first time I swallowed I thought to myself, “Not bad.”

I learned to read his body movements and his groans to figure out when he was getting ready to shoot his load and as the ending neared I would engulf him entirely (us blow job queens call this “deep-throating”) and let him paint my tonsils with his liquid manhood. This maneuver is key, if you don’t like the taste of cum, but I didn’t really mind it, he tasted fine.

Although I tried to prove to my first love usually 2 – 3 times a day that I was by far the best, most amazing blow job queen of all time and that if he ever left me he would never, could never find another women who could make him feel the way he did when his hard dick was inside of my moist mouth, he broke up with me when I left for college.

Since that time, I spit. Which is still pretty enjoyable for the guy since he doesn’t have to pull out and ruin the moment by shooting into a tissue or onto his stomach. But, I don’t swallow anymore. I just haven’t been with a guy since Ryan who’s worth the calorie count. So they cum, I spit and all is right with the world.

Until I met Jeremy, the premature ejaculating anorexic barista. Jeremy’s cum was vile. Jeremy’s cum was so vile that after he came, the inside of my mouth and my tongue started to tingle and burn. Normally a quick spit into a tissue or nearby sink is sufficient but with Jeremy’s spew, after spitting into the sink I had to gargle with Listerine and then vigorously rub my tongue back and forth on the bath towel trying to scrape off his dead children as quickly as possible. If I hadn’t been naked I would have been tempted to search for my toolbox in the hallway closet and grab some low-grade sandpaper.

What the fuck did he eat that day???

Jeremy claimed to be a vegetarian, strived to be a vegan but confused me by eating meat on occasion, so I don’t really know what his diet was like.

But whatever he ate that day he absolutely washed it down with a tall glass of Nasty made with 2 parts bleach, 2 parts sour milk and 1 part battery acid.

By the way guys, if you ask a girl, “Do I taste ok?” and she responds with “Mhmm.” She’s lying.

Go out and buy yourself some pineapples or just be a gentleman and give her a facial instead.

2 Night Stay in Vermont ski lodge – $353.10
New ski jacket, ski pants, snow boots and ear warmers – $236.85
2-hour intro to skiing lesson – $75.00
Tubing and Guided Snow Shoe – $45.08
1 bottle of Riesling, 1 bottle of Pinot Grigio and 1 small bottle of Jack Daniels (to help ease the falls) – $30.60
Meeting the only married man on a singles trip – Priceless

A few months back Dr. Habibi forwarded to me an email for a singles weekend ski trip in Vermont.

Reasons for deciding to go:

I had never skied before and wanted to try it.
I had never been to Vermont.
It was a good excuse for buying new clothes.
I needed to get away.
My hair looks awesome in cold weather.
Spending time with Dr. Habibi is always fun!
Maybe I would meet a nice guy?

Reasons I should have stayed home:

I found out that a “singles” “getaway” really means that the single guys need to get away from me!
Before booking I had pictured a romantic rustic ski lodge, sitting on a cozy couch in front of a roaring fire, drinking delicious hot cocoa and having intimate conversations with single men. What I got was a run-down, water damaged shit-hole, sipping horrible $5.99 bottles of Pinot Grigio and having moronic conversations with a married man.
I was on the bunny hill in my adorable new ski outfit and 20 minutes in to my 2-hour ski lesson I fell and twisted my right leg…My injury was so bad that I was in pain for the rest of the weekend, walked around the lodge like I got fucked in the ass the night before (wishful thinking), had to cancel my tubing and snow shoeing expeditions scheduled the next day and was forced to sit alone in the decrepit ski lodge lounge for 5 hours reading a book on my kindle.

The best part of the weekend was when my married getaway boyfriend gave me a pot cookie to help ease my leg pain. I was high as a kite. Glad he was good for something!

For 9 straight gloriously hazy hours I laughed, I cried, I slept, I binged and most importantly I was able to forget that my right leg was fucked and I hadnt been!

Great weekend!