Tuesday, November 26, 2013


I was all set to write articles for this site, mostly about my bad dating experiences. That’s what I blog about in my every free waking second. I write about ex boyfriends’ becoming carnies, and faking brain tumors. Going to the skate park while on House arrest, cheating on you by getting another chick drunk with the booze I PURCHASED, and sleeping with her. I find throughout my dating history I tend to choose the men who use me for everything, and leave me with nothing. I am seriously one bad date away from 30 pugs. I have one named Elizabeth Taylor because I am a die-hard Sex and the City fanatic, and I am thinking I need more.

The thing is, I’ve learned. I have a vast majority of knowledge that I try to share with the world. Now I know what I refuse to tolerate, and I finally do what most women don’t.

I love, and respect myself. 

That’s the problem in society todaywomen don’t love themselves. They allow themselves to be beaten, or talked to like they are sub- par human beings. They continuously allow themselves to not fee beautiful, and it saddens me. I know I’m guilty of it as well as the next person, but respect yourself by knowing what you deserve.

It wasn’t until that exact moment that Skater-boy, as I call him, looked me right in the eye and told me he was going to the skate park. The only thing I asked of him the WHOLE time we were together was NOT to go to the skate park while being on house arrest. It’s a lot to ask I know. We were sitting in his car when he looked right at me, and said “I’m going to the Skatepark while on house arrest. Are you coming?”

In that exact moment almost 3 years ago when he said that, that something finally clicked in my head. It was like my “ah-ha” moment, and I swear it was the longest moment of my life. I looked at him, got out of the car, and walked into mine. It was that moment that changed my entire thought process completely. I realized that if I stayed in that car with him, I would never love myself. Of course I cried, and pleaded to work on shit, but in that moment I finally started to love myself.

It’s been a slow process to get where I am today. Today I am the outspoken female who is hammered at the bar, but this time I’m not bitching about my boyfriend. This time I’m there telling people how it is, and why they are the way they are. I can talk for hours about the vicious cycle of abuse; or the stories of people that survive abusive relationships.  I spend hours listening to people, because it’s what I love to do. I have dating stories for days, and will gladly listen to anybody. So I had a thought.

I’m going to write a bunch of topics, but really I would like to hear some of your stories, and give you my thoughts. I’ve got 2 years of psychology under my belt, and yes I’m not licensed, but 
I’m still an ear. I can give out advice to the best of my experiences, but trust me when I say I 
understand better than you think. I ended up in therapy because of a man, and I know how it feels to hit the bottle when you hit rock bottom.

I’m going to throw out my email if you want advice. I’ll reply and write it. Don’t spam me, or be a weirdo. Sammaysam55555@gmail.com, and I’ll write what I think. It could be fun. I’ll edit it, and share because you aren’t alone. You’ll be surprised how much you can help people.

Until next time, one love.

Samantha Perry

Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Mexican Fling

So I traveled to Mexico, and not in the way you think.
I slept with the most beautiful Mexican guy I have ever seen.
I did it in the name of research.

I’ve undertaken this adventure in my life, which I like to call my career. Yes, it may not be one that “pays” so to say but more than anything I am getting a body of work. I think I’m a writer at heart, and I hope to make something of myself someday with it. Until then I am going to go out, and just live my life which is something I call “the dream”. I always say I’m “living it” as though secretly in front of people who ask, I fight the urge to punch most of them in the face.

One thing I chose to do today in the name of research was actually getting a Brazilian wax. It is something I have actually attempted to do myself. Even though I know how it ends, there have been repeated attempts to do it myself, and it usually ended badly for me. Half the time I ended up with half the wax remaining on my body. I usually scream “FUCK’ out loud because it does not tickle.
I went into the studio in Colorado in order to research this side project, because I just have to. I got so much hair ripped off my body, and yet I felt lighter with each hair leaving. There was hair ripped out of every pore on me, but I also learned something that day actually. I mean I went for research. I wanted to try to understand the stupid things women will buy into, but here’s the thing. I loved it.

I loved getting waxed, and even though there are certain parts hurt I left feeling confident in myself in a weird way. I went under the impression that women go because they want to wax themselves to keep their man happy. I was actually very wrong. As Rochelle, my waxer, told me that men get the women in there, but women keep themselves coming back. I actually felt sexy when I left there, and can’t wait to go back in 4 weeks.

I’ve decided to write about topics that I want to do “research” on. Waxing was one of them, but another was I wanted to take a trip to Mexico.  Of course, I didn’t want to leave the state…
I live next door to the most beautiful Mexican man I have ever seen in my life. He has the body of what I can only describe as “sculpted by the God’s themselves”. His abs remind me of something on Michelangelo’s David. He is also employed selling insurance, so his stocks just keep rising. He also has diamonds in his ears that cost more than 6 months of my rent, and he drives a Miata. Might not be a fancy car to some, but he’s my age and has one. I will drive a Mini-van at this point, I want a car that badly. It’s a complete backwards love story. I’m a poor little white girl, he’s a rich little Mexican boy. “What more can you ask for?” some women might say. I found one.

We have nothing in common, to talk about. It really is as simple as that. He works out at the gym 6 days a week…I read. He drinks protein shakes, I drink vodka with lemonade. I’m from a completely different tax bracket, as in I have no money. The worst thing is he’s such a gentleman. He opened my car door, the restaurant door, and he paid. We just sat there though, with nothing to talk about. He’s such a gentleman, but I know he’s not for me. It’s because I find intelligence sexy. He has the beauty, he does have a brain, but I like to talk about what’s going on in the world around me. I know looks fade, and conversation is what you have left. I at least know I found a good friend.

The biggest problem I had with him mostly, was the fact of how pretty he was. That is the one thing that I think I had the most problem with. He was so pretty, and I’m so plain compared to him. His sister has Coach shoes, I have hand me down flip flops.  I felt insecure the entire time we went out because I have no confidence in myself. I’ve never been one to believe myself, to think I’m pretty enough for a guy like that.  So I proceeded to get hammered drunk after running into him at the bar, and act like a lady.

Before that night we had gone out twice, and I wanted to stay as classy as possible. I didn’t even kiss him, and put a napkin on my lap. I chewed with my mouth closed, and listened to him talk about himself. I did all that crap they tell you to do on dates to make a guy like you. Not that I was trying to trap him, I just wanted to be a classy gal. So that night I kept up with the lady act, went over to his house, proceeded to talk to him for a second, then attacked his face. It was my now or never moment, because if I didn’t do it then I never would.

I pretty much kept telling him how pretty he was, and how we had nothing in common. Then in a complete lady like behavior brought him back to my place…and hooked up with him on the bathroom floor. Oh the things you have to do in the name of research.

Samantha Perry

My personal site: www.iamsammaysam.com
Facebook: facebook.com/groups/winneridated

Friday, November 1, 2013

Snappy Answers to Stupid Messages

One week on internet dating, and already I have a fantastic haul of idiotic and/or creepy emails. I feel like my Uncle Zeke the day he discovered dynamite + lake = fish.
First of all, there are a lot of men who describe themselves as “Available” or “Seeing someone” who are trolling dating sites for wayward women.  I find this conflicting. On the one hand, they’re honest enough to put that on the dating profile. On the other, I’m pretty sure their girlfriends/wives have no idea their beloved scumbag is on the Internet looking for a hookup. Sigh! What’s a wayward woman to do?
One guy, named Tony, wrote to me this morning—he’s in a dead marriage, says his profile. “You seem really cool!’ he enthused. “Well, yes,” I wrote back, “I AM really cool. But not cool enough to date someone who’s cheating on his wife.” I then suggested that since he is in a dead marriage, he consider decorating for Halloween with tombstones in the yard, with one saying “RIP OUR MARRIAGE” on it. " Not only would this be hilarious, it could also open up communication with your wife," I added.
Trending creepily this week have been the twentysomethings who find me irresistible. Since I’m a firm believer in “the hand that robs the cradle eventually ends up in handcuffs,” my answers to vary depending on my mood and level of sobriety -- but always something along the lines of “back away from the older woman slowly.” Or “seriously? You’re 23 and I’m old enough to be your mother. OK, a trailer-park mother, but still.” And my favorite,  the simple, yet expressive, “Like, ew.”
So, yes, I admit it: I fell for those ads for Eharmony, with the guy who looks like Jimmy Carter and promises me the love of a lifetime. That guy should be locked up, by the way. Such a frigging scam.
Like, ew,
Jane Vassar

Thursday, October 31, 2013

Dating Checklist 2

This is the second installment of my dating list. Some of these are negotiable, but once again there are some that are NON negotiable. Like I said before you need to have your own list. I just figure I can entertain you with the things I’ve decided I really want in a guy…

Well, those are on my list because I like the when guys who work out have them, but I must make an argument in my defense to seem not so shallow. I don’t care if a guy has a 6pack. I mean yes they are fantastic to look at, and lick, but who they are inside is what matters. I just throw it on there because a girl can dream can’t she?

I’m a sucker for eyes, just as I think every other woman is. Eyes are the gateway to the soul, and can tell a lot about a person. Ladies ever meet a guy whos’ stare made you uncomfortable? Maybe you couldn’t look him in the eye? I think it’s because our gut is telling us that something isn’t right. TRUST THAT GUT INSTINCT. We have been given that instinct for a reason, and the shame of all of that is the fact most women ignore it. When out at a bar, if some guy has a creepy aura, PAY ATTENTION. It can save your life.

Doesn’t suck [just..doesn’t suck. NON NEGOTIABLE]
The fact is guys who suck, just suck. You know what it means when I say it. The fact is some guys just suck, and are annoying to be around. They just are like Debbie Downer, especially if Debbie is raginn’ it. Don’t ruin my time just because you’re miserable tickle me emo who doesn’t like to have fun.

Offensive [Anthony Jeselnik fits here]
I am offensive, and if you  haven’t realized by now clearly you skim my wrting, or you really haven’t checked out my blog [warning Iamsammaysam.com is not for people who don’t have the patience for reading, some are 23 pages long, and they are very vulgar]. I need a guy who can be as crude as me, because I have the mouth of a sailor. I say things to gauge reactions, and in fact I love hen I shock most with my vulgarity. It makes me laugh that people react with such shock, I just say what ya’ll are thinking.

Uses proper grammar. [That’s just a given]
Ay boo, lemme holla @ u… Is not something I want to ever be said to me again. It’s like men cannot grasp the simplicity of human language. I once had a thing for a guy at AJCC who thought he was black. He wore a grill. I once walked up to him and said “honey, you’re white. Accept this.” Then I walked away. He joined the Army, and I wrote him letters. The problem with our love was actually the letters.
“Ay bay I mis u…u b my first whyte grl…I hat dis army shyt…” was not something that turned me on, no matter how pretty he was.
Grammar gentlemen. Spell check goes a long way, or just know how to pick up a dictionary.

Wants/has bike
Sons of Anarchy . Jax Teller. Motorcycles. I feel as though nothing else needs to be said about motorcycles really. Just sexy…

MUSICIAN [Look It’s just a…yes please…sometimes will make exception]
I’ve been cursed with a love for musicians. It’s something that has been imbedded in me since birth. My dad is a Sax player, and working on his fourth CD. He plays at wineries, and anything else you can imagine. He’s simply just amazing, and if you like sax music, and live around the Ohio area check out Donperrysaxman.com.

The problems with musicians; however, is the fact I find them so sexy, and can’t see past the fact most are not faithful. The get so used to being cheating whores, because of all of the groupie sluts that throw themselves at them. Think about it, have you ever been to a concert? See the girls who stand front row at the stage at a concert, and practically throw their panties at the musician? Do you ever feel like you just really kind of hate them? It’s because they are the girls who will actually sleep with the entire band, and get your man to cheat on you. IF he’s unhappy. It’s just so hard to explain my love of musicians because they make you completely stupid. I’m usually like “here’s my panties” if I find out a guy is a musician, and it never ends well. Mostly because they cheat…

Tattoos/Piercings [yes please]
I mean, this just goes hand in hand with musician. They are delicious, and just scream BAD BOY, which makes 9 out of 10 girls stupid, because let’s face it the worse a guy is the more we want them. I can’t explain it, but the more ink I see, the more I know a guy is just this bad ass who gets drunk then starts fights. It is the downfall of some of us, myself most definitely.  There is just something to be said about ink I think for the fact it makes you feel as though he’s dangerous, but yet will keep you safe at the same time. It’s just really sexy I think.

I won’t lie, I actually went on one of the best dates I think I have ever been on in my life the other night. He opened my car door, the restaurant door, he paid, and he even has walked on the outside of me because apparently in the olden days the woman walked on the inside to protect her from water hitting her etc… I couldn’t believe this; what creature dwells inside such a gentleman? Could it actually be a gentleman?

Ladies I’m not saying a man should open your doors/ do all that for you to like him, but let me tell you, it’s fantastic to feel like a lady. I felt how a woman should feel when going out on a date to a nice restaurant: girly. I was nervous about what to wear, and what to order. I can’t remember the last time that happened. Allow yourself to experience it, it’s an amazing feeling.

Samantha Perry  

Dating Checklist

I have decided a good thing to do would be to break down my dating list. It make take an article or 2, considering the reasoning behind some of them are very long. Others are short and really can be squeezed in together. I find the humor through my pain as should you. I think making a dating list is the smartest thing I have ever done, and you are limiting yourself to keep going after asshats if you don’t recognize the things you need to change. The first one I’m going to write about is:

No. Quasimodos.
As funny as it may sound on paper, it’s not quite meant the way it sounds. Okay when I’m drunk with my friends, and we’re laughing about my latest bad decision [i.e. snooping through someone’s mail after you hook up with them to learn their name] it’s what it means. What I actually mean by this was a promise I made to myself a long time ago, after Mumble, is that I would not date my friends. Guy or girl, because believe me I have an entire blog about friend-zoning, you have certain people you keep as friends. When I meet someone they go into 2 catergories: Friendable, or Fuckable. You will also learn that I make up my own words to suit what I need to say.

Fuckable- The second you lay eyes on that person you know you have to have them. Maybe it’s just me, but I feel this…SPARK in a sense take over my body. I think it’s really just the beast’s way of letting me know it’s hungry [yes, that is exactly what it means], and I’m on the hunt. I of course then entertain the problem of getting drunk enough to get the confidence to approach them.

Friendable- Meeting someone who you just don’t have it for, and wanting to keep them in your life since they don’t serve a purpose elsewhere. It’s finding someone who instantly becomes a best friend, and someone you can talk to. I have many of these guy friends, dude to the fact that I know I’m beyond screwed in being able to have a normal relationship with anyone.

The problem for me, however, becomes that my guy friends fall for me. I don’t mean that in a “Oh I’m so pretty…I’m the prettiest girl in the room” type of way. I’m actually serious because all my guy friends fall for me, except the ones I want of course. Isn’t that how it always goes. I used to not want to date my guy friends, and I still don’t, for the simple fact I don’t see it that way. I’m not attracted to them, and I don’t mean that they are ugly. When I’m attracted to someone I have the urge to rip my clothes off and do the mating dance of an Ostrich [Youtube it, it’s great]. When I see a friend in a person who I respect more than anything, and wouldn’t want to make them deal with a girl who has more personalities than Sybil at times. Mumble was the last time I ever dated someone I considered a friend because I have a very distinct pattern:

I get sad, I decide that “hey my friend loves me since no one else will”, I’m happy for 5 minutes, the grass starts looking greener, I want other people, I have an emotional affair because I’m looking for something else. Every single time. I don’t physically cheat, because I promised myself a long time ago I wouldn’t do that, but I find myself just wanting a connection. With someone, anyone really, because I have never felt whole inside. Well that’s how I was then, now since making my list and not dating people who aren’t worth my time I don’t know how I would be now. When I say “dating” I mean relationship style because believe me I have way more fun single that anything else. I absolutely go on dates, and make sure they pay. THAT’S dating, not the stupid high school bullshit of “We hung out once, we’re dating”. If you want to get technical I am allowing myself to be “Courted” in a sense, and darling it is fantastic. Give it a shot, but first make sure it is someone you are attracted to. Like I say, make a list.

I am a very empathetic, and sympathetic person. I will listen to some all night on the phone if they need. I’m a psychology major, and the name “Samantha” in Hebrew actually means “listener”. It’s my calling in life, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. With that being said, if you are a man who cries almost EVERY day like my ex Cbag did, I cannot date you. Look I understand that everyone is broken and sad. Hell I am making a career out of being more damaged beyond on repair. Realistically, get over it. Know who had it worse? JESUS. Anytime you want to start boo hooing about how bad your life is, just remember what Jesus went through and shut your face.

Everyone has a story, and I want to hear about it. What I want is to help you figure out why you do the things you do, and help you become a better person. Teach you to grow. What I DON’T want is to listen to you cry everyday about how bad your life is. Cbag used to constantly “OH my life is just so bad…No one understands me…” as he flipped his hair like those assholes in emo bands do. Homie, my life is ten times harder than yours, so suck it up and MOVE ON.

This is a non-negotiable situation, and I don’t care how much you try to argue with me on that one. Ladies if a man does not have a job, he cannot support you. Yes, you should be independent, and not need a man; however do you want to be the girl who always pays? I know I got tired of it. Men like that will leech onto you , and you will allow that behavior to continue until one day you discover that they smoked all your school money you got back up in Spice. Yes, the over the counter incense that has high that last for ten minutes, and because of that you don’t get to see your family or your dog for a year and a half. Thanks Cbag, next time if you’re going to use my money for drugs; bang out some black tar heroin.

Perfect placement for my next requirement. Ladies do not date men with drugs, not only for the simple fact that they drain all your money, but you cannot fix them. You can’t “save” an addict because at the end of the day, they don’t want to be saved. Your addict needs to hit rock bottom before they realize what they need to change. Weed is fine, pretty much everyone smokes [I do because it’s one of the few things that helps my anxiety], but if you get further into that you are treading on dangerous waters.

If a man does not have a car, he better be under the age of 16. I currently do not have a car, 2 years later, thanks to Cbag. Also thanks to a series of unfortunate roommate choices. I can’t help it, I cannot get ahead for the life of me. However, if I see a GROWN ass man driving a Mo-ped, I will absolutely start laughing. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten that fourth DUI homie, CALL A CAB. You need a man with a car.

“Man, there is nothing sexier than a guy who lives with his mom” says NO WOMAN EVER. Look, I understand things happen. I had to moved back home to live in my dad’s garage, ironically the main reason was because I wanted a man to care about me, so I get it. People lose their job (which is also understandable in the “no job” category) but after a certain age it becomes un-cute. Have you watched failure to launch? If you haven’t, I highly suggest you do. You don’t want to have to make sure his parents are asleep before you can hang out.

If a man does not stand up for you, that should ultimately be a deal breaker. You’re precious, and as long as you aren’t being a drunk bitch who is starting drama at the bar, your man should make others show you respect. I once dated a guy who let an entire bar call me a whore because I was talking to two other people. I’m a social butterfly, and it’s just what I do when I go out. I network, because lets face it, I’m over waiting tables. I want my writing to take off, and the best way to do that is to get it seen. The fact of the matter was he kept going to the bar after this happened, so it was pretty much icing on the cake of our relationship ending. Your man should never let anyone disrespect you, too bad I’ve never had a guy stand up for me.

Those are my non-negotiable deal breakers in my dating list, and they should be in yours as well. I’ll finish summing up the list in my next article. Now it’s time to put on the single hat, and go meet men. Just remember 9 outta 10 you do NOT want to date someone you meet in a bar…

Samantha Perry 

Monday, October 28, 2013

Look in the Mirror, Boy!

Dear Jane Vassar,

I'm a 50-year-old male, divorced, in good shape, professor at a small college, and reasonably attractive. Last week, I had a date with a woman my age whom I met online. She was nice enough, and had a smoking little body, but her face was rather aged. I felt as if I were on a date with my aunt. This experience has repeated itself so often that it seems I can't find any women my age who don't look old. Should I lower the age of women I date to 35? What do you think?

Jonathan in Providence 

Dear Jonathan,

What do I think? Um, I think you're an asshole. 

You write that you're 50, divorced, and "reasonably attractive". Since data have shown that men tend to rate their own appearance more highly than women, I would guess that you have ear hair and that your face looks like the  bottom of an old hand bag. You're divorced, which to you means "single and ready!" But  it really just means you're someone else's old husband. 

But hey, I'm sure on your professor's salary you can find any number of young women whose panties will moisten listening to you whine about committee meetings and how you can't seem to finish that article, and who can't wait to lie under you as you hump away for ten minutes and then end with a fart and a snore.

Jane Vassar 

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Red Flags

“Forever wanting to find that complete happiness, she always found it in the wrong place. Used, and tossed aside as if to be discarded like yesterday’s trash. She had hope that someday all her dreams would come true. The one would ride in to sweep her off her feet. Give her what was promised to her because that was all she ever wanted. Finally beautiful. Finally good enough. She could finally be it. Alas she was nothing more than an idea quickly forgotten as fast as it had came in the beginning.”

This is a 92 word poem I wrote when I found the challenge on a website, and I think by now I’ve figured out that I’m pretty unlucky when it comes to my pick in men. Mostly because I ignore Red Flags, as do you if you are still single by a certain age. I’m 26 so I’m still young in a sense, but I feel as though I’m about one bad date away from 50 cats. Like, I can NOT date one more idiot, or I will absolutely lose my shit. When you see your ex running a kiddie train ride at a fair, you know you have to reevaluate things.

I started my adventures in dating when I was 15, and let’s just should have just stuck with the first guy my sophomore year of high school. As I write this, I realize that until my time off, I have dated for 10 years. DO you understand how little an amount of time that is to have all these stories?
And people seriously wonder why I drink like a fish.

Basically after I dated a boy [I call them boys because they are boys, they are not men] that I named Mumble in my stories; due to the fact he looked Mumble the penguin from Happy Feet; I realized something about myself. I, like many other women, ignore RED FLAGS. Why was this particular one so perfect you ask? Oh just that he stalked me until we got together, and then proceeded to try to fake a brain tumor after I broke up with him. All I wanted was my t-shirt back after we had broken up. To be fair, it was a t-shirt I had gotten when I went with my family to Cancun my junior year of high school. It was a souvenir, and held great memories for me. You best believe I’m getting that fucker back. It got to the point I almost had to involve the cops in order to get it back. He was such a pathological liar he told his best friend that “it was his shirt, and I just wanted something to remember him by.” Bitch please. I wish I could be like that old lady in the notebook, and forget half of the Winners I’ve dated.

The reason I started dating him was pretty much that I felt bad for him. HOW many women have made that mistake? They mistake pity, and feeling bad for reasons to end up with someone. They give in even though their gut is twisting and screaming at them “NO! DON’T DO IT! You’ll spend countless hours wiping their tears, watch as they slowly suck your bank account dry. They threaten to kill themselves so you help them, they leave you without a car, and you are still trying to get one 2 years later because of that. How does one miss all the signs that this could happen?

By Ignoring Red Flags. Red Flags, or how I define them, are the subtle feelings your gut gives you when something is wrong. You have a feeling in your stomach that something isn’t right, but there’s a reason women choose to ignore it. Women are taught to be nurturing creatures,  that we are supposed to be kind and compassionate. Think about it: have you ever met a guy that something just seemed off, but you decided you wanted to be nice anyways. That the guy seemed a little different, or something made you feel uncomfortable. DON’T IGNORE THAT.

We are given gut instincts for a reason, and I think ignoring them is what gets women trapped in abusive relationships. Maybe you think that the clinginess is cute at first, even though it doesn’t feel right. There’s a good possibility that this guy will alienate you from every single person so he can be your “whole world”. How many women have dated controlling or abusive guys? Think back hard about your past  relationships. In the beginning did he try to pass off little things, such as trying to make you wear an outfit that covered you up more, as a sign that “he only wanted what’s best for you?” Those my dear sweet girl are a red flag is.

I used to laugh about how I dated nothing but “Red Flag’s”; so much to the point I wrote the Mumble story of everything he did, entitled it “Red Flag Douche”, and submitted it to a website called “I Dated That Douche”. She picked my story within 3 hours of me submitting it, and put it on her page. It eventually led to me scoring the position of “Twitter Inter” on her Twitter account, where I worked for free for a year. Working for her helping women learn about douchebags actually was amazing. It gave me the confidence to actually work on my own blog. I started Iamsammaysam.com, which is more R rated so to speak, where I wrote stories of the asshats I have dated. I found myself become quite the Red Flag’s expert, but then everything changed.

I was at the Library one day when I came across a book called “Red Flags: How to know when you are dating a loser” by Dr. Gary Aumiller. I absolutely lost it laughing because here in my hands was a guide to understanding 25 types of losers women date. I knew I could begin to make my insanity into a reality with my goal on helping women. There became one problem though, I discovered my own Red Flags.

I won’t lie, in my writing I always put myself out there. I refuse to try to be an innocent party, because I’m just as guilty of the destruction of my relationships, as well as the other party. I’ve been abused, as well as the abuser. I’ve been cheated on, but I only ever emotionally cheated due to the fact I was looking for a connection with someone. I have been shown nothing but cruelty, and I’ve been the torturer myself. We all do things when we hurt to hurt others. It’s human nature. What I have learned though is to be more through when you accept dated. The following is a copy of my requirements and some are non-negotiable, on my dating list. Enjoy.

No Quasimodo’s  [Cannot be ugly. Have to find slightly attractive]
No cryin’ [Does not cry everyday. You can talk about your feelings though]
Have V-lines [are optional, but nice to look at]
Pretty eyes [enough said I’m an eye gal]
Doesn’t suck [just..doesn’t suck]
Offensive [I mean have you met me?... Anthony Jeselnik fits here]
Uses proper grammar. [That’s just a given]
Has a Job [ given]
No drug problem [smoking weed is acceptable by me; NOT DRUG DEALER]
Has car/doesn’t drive mo-ped
Wants/has motorcycle
MUSICIAN [Look It’s just a…yes please…sometimes will make exception]
Tattoos [yes please]
Piercings [yes please]
Funny [must make me laugh]
Can be Bald[sexy Mr. Clean bald]
Kind to animals
Doesn’t live in mom’s basement
Nice teeth [ALL of them]
If possible no felonies [shit happens]
Stands up for me [won’t stand up TO me, won’t stand up for me]
Has all layers of skin [some tanning is okay, but cheeto orange isn’t hot]
No daddy issues [I’m not saying all have em, but the ones I date did…Jesus]
No peeing or pooping on me [That card will never be on the table]

On a side note I’ve since added a few:
Chivalrous [opens doors is a plus <3 o:p="">
Kind to me [After a while words that are cruel tear you down. Build me up]
My Best Friend [someone that I’m attracted to who knows everything]

I add those last things because realistically those are very redeeming qualities to have in anyone you want to settle down with.

As sad as that is, it’s what I have decided to ask every guy I give a chance. Some are non-negotiable, while others are just a nice thought. All I know is I’m done dating Red Flags. Make your own list, and be done too.

Samantha Perry - Crazy. Wrapped in Fun. Coated in Bitch.

My personal site: www.iamsammaysam.com
Facebook: facebook.com/groups/winneridated