meme asshole

The less than enthusiastic birthday response put me on high alert, but I convinced myself not to make a big deal about it or let it ruin what I thought was the start of something great.

But things just never got great.  We seemed to always be taking two steps forward three steps back, and as usual… this relationship was driving me crazy.

I had to initiate the planning of our 2nd date and then 4 hours before we were supposed to meet he cancelled, using the excuse his friend had an emergency.  I was annoyed.

When we finally did have our 2nd date it was great!  We had dinner and then snuggled in an empty bar making out.

Our 3rd date which took place on LI was amazing.  I was happy that he made the effort to come to my home and when we took the train back into the city the following morning he held my hand the entire time.

Things seemed to moving in the right direction until he once again canceled hours before our 4th date.  This time I wasn’t annoyed, I was pissed.  We rescheduled for the next day and when I confronted him about blowing me off… again… and on such short notice…he apologized, but I just wasn’t believing his excuse that he hadn’t been feeling well the night before.

For the following two weeks I waited for him to find time to spend with me but he wouldn’t. Over text (because apparently I wasn’t worth the effort of a phone call after dating 6 weeks) he told me that he couldn’t do this right now.

About a week later I was stalking Instagram and noticed a few new pictures in his tagged photos.

This was my favorite:



I couldn’t make this shit up if I tried.




What does a girl buy a guy she’s only been dating for a few days? This was my dilemma immediately following our 36-hour 1st date.

I asked friends and family and after hearing ideas that ranged from “nothing” to “take him out to dinner” I settled on what I believed to be an appropriate gift for our situation and had a box of gourmet chocolates delivered to his office with a card that read, “Happy Birthday! Wishing you a great day!”

At 10:15am the morning of his birthday, I received the email notification that the gift had been successfully delivered.

I was excited and couldn’t wait for him to call me to let me know that he had received the present.

So I waited…..

And I waited….

And I waited some more.

By 1:00pm I still hadn’t heard from him.

Convinced that someone in his office had accepted the gift and placed it in a package room without him even knowing (because why else wouldn’t he have called me to thank me) I gave in and sent him a text:

Me: Happy Birthday!

Him: Thank you.

Me: R u at work? I sent you something – it was signed for by the mail room.

Him: I am at work and I did get something. Thank you so much. I’m thinking about you.


8 hours later….

Me: Hey


The next morning…

Him: Hey good morning beautiful. Thank you very much for my gift.

Me: Hey – Ur welcome!   Were they good?

Him: Yes. I would have loved to share them with you.

To be continued…..

untitledAfter my disappointing cruise and failure to meet any normal guys online, I decided to take a break from dating. I deactivated all 3 of my online dating accounts and welcomed back a simpler time when checking my email was about receiving coupons and sale notices from my favorite department stores. I would stop holding my breath waiting for a notification that I had received a wink, a flirt, an email or an instant message.

So I stopped.

And I felt great! My confidence was coming back. I was spending time with my girlfriends on the weekends. I was shopping like a maniac decorating my newly purchased home. I was reading again. I was back to doing the things that made me happy. And it was working.   I was happy.

And then one day I received a friend request from a guy from my past who I had reservations about for a plethora of reasons but who convinced me to go out on a date with him after two weeks of texting and getting to know each other.

So over sushi and sake one Friday night we had our first date. We had our first kiss. And instead of heading our separate ways at midnight, he decided to join me on a weekend get-away I had previously planned with my family.

He met my family. We held hands. We snuggled in bed with no expectations. He showered me with compliments. We had an amazing time together.

But driving home I knew I was in trouble. Our amazing first date had lasted 36 hours and a few minutes after dropping him off….

I missed him.

The Moroccan and I we were off and running after my birthday bash.

He couldn’t get enough of me and called and texted me several times a day to tell me.

And I couldn’t get enough of him, especially after confirming that his penis was comparable to the Utahan’s.

Happy Birthday WinterInNYC!

One night the Moroccan suggested that he sleep over and drive me to work in the morning.

We snuggled and fell asleep together watching a movie and then played house in the morning, as I got ready for work.

We stopped off at Dunkin, grabbed some much-needed coffee and headed into the city.

Pleasantly happy with how the night went and having no idea where we were headed (figuratively speaking) I sipped my coffee while we made small talk.

As we neared the midtown tunnel I looked over and caught a glimpse of his key chain in the car ignition….

#1 Dad

Wait! What? #1 Dad? The fucker told me he was single….

Turns out, I scored myself a married Moroccan father of 2!

And the reason why he was able to call me at all hours of the night, hang out with me almost every day for three weeks and sleep over whenever he wanted to was because his family lived in Morocco!

Although he didn’t make his real life confession during the drive into the city that morning, he finally came clean a few days later.

When I asked him why he lied to me he admitted that if he had told me the truth I wouldn’t have given him my number. Smart!

I have now realized that after our 2nd kiss when he told me that I kissed him like his wife, he didn’t mean that we had crazy chemistry and a level of comfort you have with a spouse.

He literally meant that I kissed like his wife!



Two Fridays ago I started celebrating my birthday week by drinking with my fabulous girlfriends at a bar in Hell’s Kitchen.

Several hours/ciders later, I checked the train schedule and decided to head out to grab the 11:52pm train out of Penn Station.

With no taxis in sight and the clock ticking towards my departure time, I started to worry that I was going to miss my train.

I was starting to panic when a gypsy cab pulled up and the driver offered me a ride. These are town car drivers that hang out in the city waiting for calls from the company they work for but try to make money by picking up fares. Although its not legal for them to pick-up pedestrians it happens all of the time. Although I rarely accept rides from these drivers I was desperate and asked him how much?

Driver: $35
Me: Are you fucking kidding me? We are on 48th and 9th. Penn is on 34th and 8th.   Its like a $10 cab ride….I’ll give you $15.
Driver: $35
Me: You’re crazy dude! No thank you!
Driver: How much you want to pay?
Me: $15!
Driver: $30!
Me: You’re still fucking crazy! No thank you!
Driver: $25!
Me: I’ll give you $20! Not a dollar more!
Driver: Ok, get in.

I quickly found out that my driver was 34-year-old single Moroccan man living in Astoria who thought I was hot!

When we pulled up to Penn Station he asked me for my number and refused to take my $20. I gave him my phone # and insisted he take the $20 and ran for my train.

He called me an hour later to make sure I got home ok.

6 days later it was my birthday and I was headed to dinner and then a strip club to celebrate with Marilyn and two friends from work.

After trying to hail a cab for a few minutes outside of my office, I decided to text the Moroccan to see if he was in the city and could give us a lift. Within 10 minutes he was picking the four of us up and driving us to dinner.

Before he dropped us off I asked him if he would be able to drive Marilyn and me home to Long Island after the strip show and he said of course.

After being molested by the “butterface” strippers, the Moroccan picked the two of us up and we headed home. Marilyn quickly passed out in the backseat of the car and for the next hour the Moroccan held my hand and kissed me at every stoplight we hit.

My stomach was doing flips from nerves and excitement. Was I really making out with a Muslim Moroccan gypsy cab driver on my 34th birthday?

Hell yeah I was!

To be continued….


I’m really grateful that my pitiful dating existence comprised of ridiculous stories about monster cocks, vulgar semen, sex so bad I need to shop at Costco for batteries and assholes that I like who never like me back has awarded me my 2nd Leibster Blog Award!

Thank you ID’s RED BOOK. I have a little cum on my face because I have not been following your blog and for that I apologize. I am now a follower and look forward to learning all about you. Thank you for reading my blog. I hope I continue to keep you interested and coming back for more!

Some of my readers have questioned whether or not all of my stories are true. How can one girl really have this much bad luck/crazy shit happen to her? Believe it or not….this is my life! My desire to love and be loved combined with a sex drive like a dog in heat plus a filthy mouth equal to a sailor’s, makes writing fun for you, my readers, and therapeutic for me. So…as long as crazy fucks continue to find me and fuck me and as long as I can continue to laugh after I cry after every bad date or failed relationship I will write.

I hope to satisfy some of your curiosities about WinterInNYC:

11 Questions to me from ID’s RED BOOK:

1. Is your blog better than mine? Don’t try to be objective, I want completely subjective.

I wish I could answer this question but I can’t since I just started to read your blog. Fuck, I feel like such a selfish twat. I promise to read and comment and like….and if that’s not enough I’ll just blow you….OK? Oh and if posting more often = better blog than yes…you win!

2. What is the most disgusting thing that you’ve ever seen… during sex?

Myself in a mirror….I hate hotels and their damn mirrors!

3. Can you properly use there, their, and they’re in a single sentence?

I asked the guys at the bar if they’re into anal and they said that they were but that their girlfriends wouldn’t let them put it in there!

4. Which 80′s band had the best sense of style? And why? (minimum 100 words)

I was born in 1980 and know very little about 80’s bands or their sense of style. Again…please forgive me for not answering and ignoring your 100 word requirement….I can lick your balls too?

5. Have you ever had an STI/STD?


6. If you answered “Yes” to #5, have you ever had sex with me?


7. Do you have any coyote ugly stories? Please share.

No…the men I fuck usually leave a few minutes after they cum. Real gentlemen!

8. Do you believe that Jim Henson is the fucking man? Explain your answer in at least 100 words.

Any man that can find a pig a boyfriend is the fucking man in my book! He has given me hope!

9. Have you ever had sex while on any illegal substances? If so, would you recommend I try it?

Can’t say I have. I smoked weed in college but never got laid. Maybe I should start though….we can try it together!

10. You’re all bloggers, which post that you’ve written is your favorite?

Tough one! I would have to say my favorite blog is Mommy…What’s a _ _ _ _? My blog isn’t just about sex and dating…its about my life and this post is a good glimpse into my past and why I am the way I am.

11. If you answered “No” to #5 and #6, will you have sex with me for nominating you for this award? (Did anyone else notice that all the blogs I’ve nominated are written by women? Coincidence? I’ll let you decide.)

Ha! Well I already offered a blow job and ball licking…so sure!

11 Random Facts about me:

1. I had horribly crooked fucked up teeth until the age of 25 when I got invisalign. Best money I ever spent.

2. I got my first vibrator at the age of 19. It was forest green. My friends gave it to me at a bowling alley where I was celebrating my birthday.

3. I love to go bowling.

4. I once kept my grandparents waiting for me for dinner at a kosher deli because I was giving my boyfriend a blowjob on my parent’s waterbed. From that day forward I can’t eat matzah ball soup without thinking of blowjobs.

5. In high school I wanted to be a meteorologist and was accepted into Penn State’s meteorology program. Only 20 students from around the world were accepted. When the school told me I would need to spend my entire summer taking math classes I decided not to go. I was in love and didn’t want to miss out on a summer with Ryan. 17 year olds should not be in charge of their futures.

6. I believe in God. I talk to him all the time.

7. Senior year my sorority sisters voted me “Sister Most Likely To Suck The Chrome Off A Trailor Hitch”.

8. I fear that I won’t be strong enough to put my dog down. I pray that I won’t have to make that decision.

9. The 1st time I smoked weed I was a junior in college. I took 8 bong hits, went to a bar, threw up all over my shoes in the parking lot and then drove home.

10. I got my first bikini wax last week and I must admit I feel fucking sexy!

11. I once went on a blind date and the guy told me that I looked like a girl from MTV’s Real World….”You know the one, the pretty girl that needs to lose weight.”

Blogs I’m Nominating – These are the blogs that I thoroughly look forward to reading and hope they don’t hate me for sharing the love:

1. MeAndDating
2. Soon2BeCatLady
3. They Told Me To Find A Rich Husband
4. The Unfortunate Virgin Male
5. My So-Called Adventures In Dating

11 Questions for my Nominees:

1. Have you ever slept with someone and found out after the fact that they were married?

2. Could you ever stay with someone who cheated on you?

3. What would be the theme song of your life?

4. Did you ever steal something? What? Why?

5. Name 3 must-haves and 3 can’t stands in your ideal mate.

6. What’s your most embarrassing moment?

7. What vegetable do you most likely resemble?

8. Would you rather eat a diarrhea dipped banana or a sperm filled twinkie?

9. Who is your celebrity free pass?

10. What was your favorite gift?

11. Where was the craziest place you orgasmed?

For future Liebster Award recipients, here are the rules:

Thank the person who nominated you, and post a link to their blog on your blog. Display the award on your blog — by including it in your post and/or displaying it using a “widget” or a “gadget”. (Note that the best way to do this is to save the image to your own computer and then upload it to your blog post.)

Answer 11 questions about yourself, which will be provided to you by the person who nominated you.

Provide 11 random facts about yourself.

Nominate 5 – 11 blogs that you feel deserve the award, who have a less than 1000 followers. (Note that you can always ask the blog owner this since not all blogs display a widget that lets the readers know this information!)

Create a new list of questions for the blogger to answer.

List these rules in your post. Once you have written and published it, you then have to inform the people/blogs that you nominated that they have been nominated for the Liebster award and provide a link for them to your post so that they can learn about it (they might not have ever heard of it!)

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.

Dear Shithead:

I recently accepted a new job and one of the 1st things I thought about after making the decision to change jobs was that my new office is relatively close to yours.

I am petrified of running into you.

I told everyone I know, “I’m going to run into Shithead!” “I just know it!”

But everyone’s response to my worrying was, “Stop!” “You’re being ridiculous!” “It’s a big city!” “I’m sure you won’t run into him!”

Isn’t it crazy that after breaking up a year and half ago and not having spoken in over a year that you were still on my mind at such an important time in my life? You still had the ability to distract me and I’m mad at myself for allowing that to happen. I allowed you to take away a very small piece of my excitement. This well deserved career opportunity was slightly tainted by the mere thought that I may see you one day.

But the city IS big! What are the chances right?

So I tried to forget about you.

On my first day of work, I walked out of Penn Station excited and nervous as I headed to my new office.

I wasn’t thinking about you. I swear!

I headed east down 34th Street and stopped at a cross walk and waited for the light to change. I remember I looked down at the sidewalk. It was cold out and I was trying to shield my face from the wind.

And then I saw them. Brown shoes. Brown shoes that looked ridiculously similar to the brown shoes that you used to wear.

I forced myself to look up and there you were.

It was my first fucking day of work at my new job and you were standing right in front of me.

My heart stopped.

I couldn’t breathe.

Nausea took over.

I quickly pulled my hood over my head. If you turned around maybe you wouldn’t see me.

The light changed and we continued our walk. I was wearing heels and you were always a fast walker so before I knew it you were several sidewalk flags ahead of me.

I was safe.

But then the next block we hit another red light and once again you were standing only a few feet away from me.

Do you remember how my teeth chattered the first time we made love and you asked me if I was cold? And I told you that I wasn’t cold, that I was just nervous. Do you remember leaning down and kissing me to try to calm me?

My teeth were chattering as I stood on that sidewalk right behind you. I wasn’t cold.

Part of me prayed that you wouldn’t see me.

Part of me prayed that you would.

I don’t know how I would have acted if you saw me.

I don’t know how you would have acted if you saw me.

Would we have ignored each other?

Would our eyes have met and then would we have turned away from each other pretending we were just two random New Yorkers on our way to work?

Would we have had an uncomfortable conversation about…the weather?

Would you have smiled?

Would you have told me how great it was to see me?

I don’t know. I may never know.

But what I do know is that every fucking day I walk to work looking for your fucking shoes.


The 1st name at the top of his text message screen, the last person he had texted.

As I scrolled through the messages I got sick to my stomach. He had been texting her the entire time we had cell service on the ship.

He wrote to her, “I was sitting on the balcony last night thinking of all of the things I wanted to do to you.”

I cried.

He had been sitting on the balcony with me.

He wrote to her, “I saw a girl in the club that looked just like you.”

I cried.

He was talking about the girl he called hot in front of me.

I scrolled through dozens of texts. I saw her picture.

I was crying, I was shaking, I was in shock. Even though I knew something was up, and I had my suspicions, confirming that my boyfriend was cheating on me was excruciating.

I finally dragged myself back to the pool, threw his book on the table and told him I was going back to the room.

He saw my face and asked me what was wrong?

I screamed at him, “Who the fuck is Sierra????”

He put his head down.

“Do I need to get tested??”


I ran.

For the next hour I cried, I screamed, I moaned, I shook, I kept screaming over and over again, “How could you do this to me?” and “Why?”

He told me it was nothing. “Just a text message thing. We never hung out.”

“Bullshit!” I screamed. “You’ve been a piece of shit boyfriend for months, there is no way in hell that you haven’t seen this girl.”

I was craving to know who she was. I needed to know. How old is she? How did you meet her? When did you meet her? What does she do for a living? Where does she live? Who were you with when you met her?

Some questions he answered. Most he didn’t.

More lies.

At some point Matt couldn’t stand hearing my crying so he left the room.

I picked up the phone not giving a fuck that it was going to cost me $6.00/minute and called my mom.

Matt returned to the room while I was on the phone. I hung up with my mom and he asked me, “You called your mom?”

“Yeah you piece of shit I called my mom. I’m on a boat in the middle of the fucking ocean with no one to talk to.”

With that, Matt started packing. He was getting his own room.

5 minutes later he was gone.

I was alone.

Day 6

I cried.
I slept.
I cried.
I slept.
I cried.
I watched TV.
I slept.
I cried.
I watched TV.
I cried.
I watched TV.
I slept.
I cried.
I watched TV.
I slept.
I cried.
I watched TV.
I slept.
I cried.
I watched TV.
I slept.
I cried.
I watched TV.
I slept.

It was the longest most miserable 24 hours of my life. I was in hell.

Day 7

I saw Matt as we were getting off of the ship. I asked him when he would come pick up his shit from my apartment. He said he would be there later that day.

I got into a cab and headed home.

I walked into my apartment.

I was numb.

We were over.

My boyfriend stopped fucking me. Even when I begged him to, he didn’t.

My boyfriend stopped telling me I was beautiful.

My boyfriend stopped talking about the future.

My boyfriend was always texting…someone.

My boyfriend starting going out with his friends on the weekends, I was never invited.

My boyfriend came over after work one day without gel in his hair…he said he had ran out.

My boyfriend spent his birthday with his friends, I took him out the next night.

My boyfriend had stopped kissing me.

My boyfriend didn’t answer my 20 phone calls and texts the day I found out I had pneumonia.

My boyfriend left me home alone when I had pneumonia so that he could watch the Super Bowl at a bar.

I wasn’t a complete idiot. I knew something was up. But I didn’t want to believe that my boyfriend of 3 ½ years, the man I thought I’d marry and start a family with, didn’t love me anymore.

In January 2012, I asked Matt if he’d like to go on vacation. He seemed excited about it and we decided on a 7-day cruise that left out of NY that stopped in Florida and the Bahamas.

I thought by him saying yes, that he hadn’t given up on us. This was our opportunity to get the spark back.

Day 1

From the moment we stepped onto the ship, I knew this vacation wasn’t going to be the romantic get-away I had hoped for. I watched all of the other couples in love, holding hands and being happy. Seeing them made me sad…I knew we weren’t like them anymore. For a long time we were happy and in love…but that love was gone now…and I didn’t know why.

Day 2

Matt got plastered. 10 double scotches later we headed to the club to dance with another couple we had met earlier that day.

Matt was bombed. He was sloppy. He kept telling me on the dance floor how much he loved me. Do drunks tell the truth? That’s what I’d been told.

As I helped him off the dance floor because he could barely stand, he walked right up to a girl and told her how hot she was. I was standing right next to him.

I tried to get him to go back to the room with me.

Matt was always a mean drunk and refused to leave. He told me to go fuck myself and then pushed me away from him.

I caught the eye of the bouncer. I knew he saw Matt push me. I was humiliated.

I headed back to the room. Matt followed me. I told him to come to bed. He told me he wanted food. I told him he was too drunk to walk around the boat and that security would find him.

He told me to go fuck myself, again. I slammed the door in his face and got into bed crying.

Two minutes later I heard the key in the door. Security had escorted him back to the room.

Matt passed out.

Then he started throwing up.

I was cleaning up my boyfriend’s puke at 2am trying to figure how I had become this girl.

Day 3

The next day I woke up and Matt was still passed out. I woke him, told him I was going to eat breakfast and then head to the pool. I told him to come find me.

I called my mom. I called my sister. I called Wendy. Everyone told me the same thing. Get off the boat! I was still in Florida so all I had to do was pack my bags and go to the airport.

I stayed.

By 1pm Matt still hadn’t found me.

I grabbed my things and went back to the room.

The first thing I noticed was an empty pint of Guinness on the bed stand. Apparently he couldn’t find me at the pool but he didn’t have a problem finding the bar.

I woke him. I ordered room service to try to sober him up.

He could barely keep his eyes open.

“Where were you all day? I told you to meet me at the pool.”

“I tried looking but I couldn’t find you so I went to the bar.”

“You obviously didn’t try that hard, the ship isn’t that big. I don’t want you drinking anymore. You need to sober up and give your body a rest.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

Later that night we sat down for dinner. Matt apologized. I asked him, “For what? For getting drunk? For cursing at me? For pushing me? For flirting with another girl in front of me? For getting sick in the room? For making me spend the day alone?”

“For everything.” he said.

After the apology, he left me sitting at the dinner table alone because he was hung over and felt sick.

“I’ll just add this to the list.” I told him.

For the 2nd time that day I ate alone.

Day 4

Although Matt refrained from another drinking binge, the vacation had already been ruined. I tried to make the best of it but I was so angry and hurt. It was impossible. We were two strangers sleeping in the same room. There was nothing to say, we barely spoke.

Day 5.

We were at the pool when Matt told me that he had finished his book and I offered to go back to the room to get him another one.

I walked into the room, grabbed his book and then I saw it…his IPhone.

For the first time EVER, Matt was without his phone.

The phone he never let me use. The phone he would only ever charge on the opposite side of the room. The phone that was always put face down on the table when not in use.

With my heart racing and my hands shaking, I typed in the password that I had to beg for him to tell me months earlier (because I would not be in a relationship with a guy who’s cell phone password I didn’t know).

Surprisingly, the phone unlocked and then I saw it….