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<editorsnote> Hi, I'm Jen Friel, and we here at TNTML examine the lives of nerds outside of the basements and into the social media, and dating world.  We have over 75 peeps that write about their life in real time. (Real nerds, real time, real deal.) Sit back, relax, and enjoy some of the stories!! </editorsnote>

 

 

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Wednesday
Sep262018

#BurningMan: That time I discovered the center of the universe and two days later my g-spot (PT 3 ... definitely #NSFW)

<editorsnote> If you're an executive reading this after our pitch meetings, here's a post highlighting what we discussed. And here is the most recent slave post. If you're a nerd, keep reading ... </editorsnote> 

This is a series of posts regarding my experience at Burning Man. Here's part one and two if you want to catch up ... or don't, this is where I talk about the sex, so does anything else really matter?

Oh yeah, and dear Mom and Dad, it's definitely not a good idea for you to read this, but I love you.

Onto the post ... 

We left the hotel around noon on Sunday knowing it would take us a solid 12 hours or so to get there. I can't begin to tell you how physically exhausting driving an RV can be, and since we weren't in any big hurry we took our time figuring we would get there whenever we got there.

Our "Burn experience" had already begun and we were all slowly seeping out the stressors from our every day lives. 

13 hours later, four taped up windows (you have to tape up RV windows to keep out the dust from the playa), and one flat (but fixed) trailer tire later, we arrived at the gate which consisted of one very long line. 

Playa times at the gate can range anywhere from a handful of hours to as many as 15. We were lucky that it only took us six, but that's still six fucking hours that you're literally waiting in a single line. 

Before you enter the playa you must submit to a search of the vehicle. Luck again favoring us, we wound up not getting stopped but did get asked if there were any "Virgins" in the vehicle. 

Yes, my friends said, pointing back to me. 

They then asked me to step out of the RV where I could be properly "greeted." 

The half naked sorta superhero said, "Virgin, I command you to do a dirt angel." 

That's it? I thought as I faceplanted myself onto the playa. 

... and when I say faceplanted I mean I fucking faceplanted, rolled, and wiggled and flailed my arms to something that may or may not have looked like an angel. 

I was then instructed to ring the bell, which I did twice (for good measure) ... and we were off. 

"Wow," my friend said, "you really just go for things don't you." 

We arrived at camp and parked an hour later (mostly due to how big of a pain in the ass it is to park an RV and a trailer in a very designated parking spot) and what would now be our home for the week. (All of the trailers end up getting "stacked." Getting in and out is not an option.) 

Our designated spot was front and center in camp, and having a friend who is "Burning Man famous" meant that we were immediately swarmed. 

Still scared and not in the mood to talk to people, I quietly dipped out to scope our digs. 

Burning Man reminds me of more redneck-ie version of Disney's "Fort Wilderness." It's just trailer after trailer and these weird looking art installations (some better looking than others) ... one right after the next. 

On hand painted signs, I saw offers to find my soulmate, clear my chakras, visit a dildo garden, and even sign up for an orgy. 

Less than 15 minutes later, I solo cupped myself back to the RV hoping that maybe I was missing something. 

By the time I got back we were summoned by the camp to a mandatory meeting. 

See, when you first arrive the camp reminds you of all of the "rules and regulations." Those include the reiteration that:

1) YOU DO NOT GIVE OR ACCEPT DRUGS FROM ANYONE (as they could be law enforcement and you will be arrested)

... that 2) you are not allowed to take pictures or touch ANYONE without their consent, and

.... 3) that any "matter out of place" is considered MOOP and if you are guilty of spilling anything (even glitter) there will be hell to pay. 

Unsure what they truly meant by that, I quietly whispered to my gf that I was out and going to head back to the RV to get ready for the evening. I then casually but firmly bolted from base, changing into "evening wear" (which was only a fur coat, gym shorts, and a Captain's hat)

Outfit properly outfitted for any and or all drug use (fur feels amazing when you're fucked up), I then (obviously sober) climbed ontop of the RV where I watched the sunset by myself. I don't get it, I thought. This is like a glorified camping experience with 80,000 of my "closest friends" that all want to "welcome me home." I already have close friends, and a home, and that traffic was (logistically done as best as they could) insane.

The group came back to the RV shortly after the sunset, as we all prepared for what was to come. 

Night one, we said grabbing the drugs from our "totally secret hiding place" ... 

I then took a "small rock like" form of molly (which I had never done before) and placed one of the tabs of acid under my tongue (where it needs to melt for five or so minutes). 

We next lit ourselves up like a Christmas tree (in both a literal and physiological perspective) as you want to be "seen" on the playa by all the art cars. 

"... if you're tripping balls and think you see a car, you're probably seeing a car SO MOVE OUT OF THE WAY. Your worst case scenario, is that it's not a car and you just look stupid which is better than being dead," reminded the camp leader during the meeting.

Safety third may be the mantra of the Burn, but as a group we took that shit seriously. 

Before we walked out the door, I warned my friends of two things that I do behavior wise (which enhances with drug use) ... 

1) If I Taylor Swift "Blank Space" my face, it's cool ... it could mean

a) I'm having a super fun time. 

b) I'm having a super fun time and thinking of something. 

c) I'm can't believe what my eyes are actually seeing, but I'm still having a super fun time. 

I didn't have this photo at the time but here I am on a private flight with some of the "top minds in technology and media" en route to one of the cruises for the Summit Series. 

Fun Time Friel has an actual party going on around her and STILL didn't care.

I was into whatever I was into, and processing whatever it was at the time. It doesn't mean I'm not having fun, I'm just fully in my own little world. 

2) When I fall asleep I will curl myself up into a little ball. Don't worry I'm not injured, it's just how I sleep (particularly on drugs). 

Everyone listened and laughed as we then Bayside High fived solidifying not only our friendship but pride from my side in that I was truly relinquishing control on every level. I knew enough of the basics of how to get back, but anything and everything that I've ever considered a "crutch" was now gone. Radical self relience is one of the "pillars" of the burn, and as a do-er I was proud to check that one off first. 

We then walked down as a group to the "main playa area" and for the first time saw "The Man" (which actually burns) the temple (more on that later) and all of the art installations. 

OOHHH, so this is Burning Man, I said outloud as the molly started to kick in. 

The group laughed saying, "she's starting to get it." 

Whatever the "it' was it certainly was colorful, and muchlike my girlfriend said previously it really was like "seeing color for the first time."

Seeing all of the colors ... 

every color ...

EVER .... 

ALL AT ONCE ... 

Overwhelmed I asked if we could go back to the RV for a minute. 

Not a problem, we all agreed as some wanted to change into a onesie for further comfort. 

As I stood by the RV waiting for the rest of the group to change, I bumped into a wizardly looking face that happened to be familiar. 

SHUT UP, I said with pupils the size of saucers. 

"Jen Friel," I said super excited!!!! 

Hi, said the wizard who later identified himself as the Music Man. 

<tangent> See, my gf happens to be a very talented singer, and earlier in the year she wanted to set me up with an executive friend of hers. "You have no idea how similar your personalities are," she pressed. "He's SUPER talented in business, and creative, yet logical. I really think this is a fit." 

Cool, I said not needing much convincing already wanting to shoot myself from the misery of online dating. 

We then went out, and had a great date, but I didn't feel any chemistry. Conversation? Off the charts. Gentleman? Absofuckinglutely. He not only held every door, but brought me flowers. They were carnations (which is considered improper etiquette), but still - it was a gorgeous display. He didn't just "grab something quickly at the store" I could tell a lot of thought went into them, and while that impressed me - it wasn't enough to warrant a second date; I'm too passionate of a person to be with someone I don't feel chemistry with. </tangent> 

Where did you come from? Where are you staying, I asked still completely clueless and not even trying to pretend that I knew what I was talking about. 

He then said where he was staying and I recognized it as one of the sister camps.

"Where are you going?, he asked. 

"I have no idea," I admitted, "which I feel is so poetic in this exact life moment." 

"What do you want to do?" 

"I want to not be in a crowd and I want to be a fly on the wall." 

Done! he said, we're going to go for a walk. 

I shouted into the trailer that I was heading back out, but with everyone on their own "levels" it may or may not have sunk in. 

Radical self reliance ready, Dorothy (my actual middle name) and the Music Man wandered back to the land of Oz. 

We then locked arms as he asked what I was on.

Molly and acid, I admitted. 

NO WAY! He said super excited ... ME TOO!! 

Here, he said handing me a lollipop. Do you have your water? 

Yep, I said pointing down. 

For as "providing the Playa may be" water is one of the scarcest resources, and one of the hardest things to get outside of your own camp. On drugs in general you ABSOLUTELY have to make sure you stay hydrated, but on the Playa? It can mean life or death. 

We then skipped ... or at least attempted to skip (like we were in the Wizard of Oz) ... and somewhere near the scarcely populated Barbie Death Camp (an actual thing), we decided to stop. 

Here, I said pointing at the very large and comfortable stack of pillows and blankets. 

Your wish is my command, said the Music Man. 

Now in a contained space, the acid began to take effect. We both sort of lulled into each other as I laughed thinking how ridiculous all of this was. 

What are the ODDS that I would not only be here with my girlfriend whom I met you through, but we are on the same drugs, AND you happen to be part of our sister camp? 

How do you think we initially met, he asked? 

Oh yeah, I said and thought embarrassed that I couldn't remember much more from our date. 

Do you mind if I touch you? he respectfully asked. 

Of course, I said, leaning into him. 

For your reference, this is called a "cuddle puddle." 

I immediately laughed out loud, saying "what is it with these Burners, man?" I get how beautiful the Playa is, but it's almost like "too much of a good thing." 

I get it, he said, but it can also be so much more. Since it's your first time, you should stay as open minded as you can. You never know what might happen.

True, I said, still recognizing that I needed to abort the attitude. 

We then sank deeper into the puddle as we (poorly) began adopting an English accents pretending that we were faaarrrr better than any one here. 

Is out eliting an elitest a thing? If not, we were hell bent on making it a thing. 

Impressed with his improvisational skills, we whipped wit back and forth for what felt like hours (but might have only been as little as a half hour)Acid alters your perception of time. 

Having our own version of fun attracted more attention, and as the bodies began to dive past a dip into the puddle, I said to the Music Man that we should go back and check in on our friends. 

Not a problem, he said immediately picking up the "I don't want to be around people" cue. "Don't forget your water," he reminded. 

I then reached for the water in the pile of puddle, and realized I couldn't find it. 

"Excuse me, I said to one of the new water dwellers, do you see a water bottle under the blankets somewhere?" 

Yes, he said handing me the bottle (with the top off) served with a side of attitude. 

"And what's this?" he dramatically shouted ... "it's WET?!"

We both stared in unison for either a minute or an hour, ignoring his ignorance and (I think) immediately about faced bursting into laughter. 

Turning to the Music Man, I said, "I piddled in a cuddle puddle." 

His accent (better than mine), responded with, "we piddled in the puddle, oh heavens to Betsy what a whoopsie daisy!" 

In stitches, we somehow not only managed to compose ourselves enough to walk, but the Music Man managed to navigate us back to my RV within a period of time that wasn't considered annoying. 

We both jumped out of the cold and into the now dark RV. 

What's that, we both passionately mumbled with blood full of molly and mouths full of lollis? 

  

One of our friends accidentally left a set of lights inside one of the backpacks and because it was the only thing lit (outside of ourselves) inside the RV - it not only caught our attention, it became the center of our universe. 

We did what two normal people would do in that situation ... and bowed down to it. 

You know that cliche photo of "what the center of the universe" might look like?? That's EXACTLY what these lights looked like reflected from the backpack. 

Now on the floor and on our knees we inched closer continued to be FASCINATED by our findings.

I then grabbed my phone (which happened to be right next to the center of the universe) and began recording a video (for shits and giggles just for us to have of what this bag actually looked like whenever we were sober again)

"IT LOOKS LIKE THE CENTER OF THE UNIVERSE," I said in a shrill high pitch, POUNDING the couch cushion (which had been turned into a bed) "and I love how the center of the universe appeared in a backpack to two people in an RV at Burning Man." 

"We mustn't think," said the Music Man. "We must just observe." 

"IT'S ONLY MONDAY," I SHOUTED mentally dipping from a wildly crazy creative capacity to a hilariously logical "WTF ARE WE ACTUALLY DOING" perspective. 

Sure, we both knew we weren't literally looking at the center of the universe, but in that moment none of it mattered. Spar after spar we intellectually "yes and-ed" (a basic rule of improv) ourselves throughout the rest of the evening. 

In total we managed to spend 13 (actual) hours in the RV together.

We are both people that like to break things down, so we talked about social constructs, our family dynamics (from both a nature and nurture perspective), where the universe is going (which was technically rude since it was staring at us in the face) and what our "actual" intentions were (meaning the things we didn't want to admit outloud to even ourselves)

Sometime later, I woke up in my little ball on the bed next to the center of the universe.

Music Man was standing on the steps of the RV staring at what I don't know, but what I did know was that the room was still "breathing." 

"Look at this wallpaper," I said pointing to the wall. 

"Wooahhh," he said still feeling the effects. 

Moments later, my gf entered asking "what happened in here last night?" 

"What do you mean," I asked naively. 

"We came back a few hours ago and you were curled up into a little ball on the floor and my friend was standing over what looked like your lifeless body. My very first thought was, 'he killed Jen,' but then I remembered what you said about curling up into a little ball is your thing." 

"We were worshipping the center of the universe, I admitted. I took a video if you want to see!" 

Of course you did, she said. 

The Music Man then sat down on the bed next to me as my gf opened the RV door to get some air. 

One by one FIVE people individually creeped over asking "what happened in here last night? We couldn't tell if Jen was getting murdered of if you guys were having sex." 

"Neither," we said laughing. 

"Murder or sex? I love the polarities. I guess we were louder than we thought," I whispered. 

"Did you guys put the stabilizer down to the RV?" he asked. 

"What's that?" I asked. 

"I'm going to say no, so anytime we moved around last night the RV would shake." 

The curiosity of the group satisfied, their immediate follow up question was "what were you guys on exactly?" 

Sometime later, the group wanted to nap, so I bid the Music Man adieu and went on a solo adventure to the camp next door. I didn't want to go far, but wanted to be anywhere other than the RV that I just spent 13 hours in. 

The party was as "in effect" as the drugs of the participants, so I curled myself up on the couch and began people watching. (The room was STILL breathing for me at this point.) 

"Hi," said a guy sitting down next to me.  

"Hi," I said back not super enthused to be talking to anyone. 

"What's your intention?" he asked (which is the Burn social equivalent of asking someone their name, which Playa "names" are also a thing)

"I want to get married and have a family. I'm at a really great place in my career and want to plan what's next." 

"You can find that here no problem," he said with a smile that wasn't "flirtatious" but rather honest. 

"I'm not impressed easily," I admitted, "and I also won't settle. I enjoy my alone time too much." 

"What did you do last night," he asked? 

Without skipping a beat, I said "I spent 13 hours on the floor of our RV worshipping the center of the universe which happened to be in a gray backpack." 

Nearly spitting out his water he said, "that's one of the coolest stories I've heard from anyone's Burning Man experience." 

I then told him about the camp wondering if I was being murdered or having sex. 

"You were with someone?" 

"Yeah," I said. "A guy I went out on a date with earlier in the year actually. I didn't think we had any chemistry so I said no to a second date." 

"How was last night?" 

"Hilariously amazing," I said. "The fact that people thought I was either being murdered or having sex says it all, and I'd do it all over again." 

He then turned and regurgitated what I said, "Okay, let me get this straight, you want to get married and start a family, AND you just spent 13 hours with a man staring at the center of the universe, yet you don't think you have chemistry and you are sitting here by yourself. Does he want to get married and have children?" 

"Yes," I said remembering that that actually came up in conversation. 

"Then you have your answer," he said. "Go find him." 

I smiled and thanked him, not entirely convinced myself. Maybe it was the room that was still slightly breathing, but my stubborn self wasn't willing to accept something so simple. 

Sometime later, I then went back to our camp where the Music Man was still staying and the only meal I ate that day was being served. 

Scared of showing him my "I think I might like you card" I kept any and all contact to a minimum. 

"I'm going to take a disco nap," I said to the group. 

One full night's of sleep worth later, I was awoken by a shivering Music Man crawling into my bed. 

"I need body heat," he said. 

Without thought, I wrapped my body and blankets around him. (This is a thing at Burning Man, when someone asks you something, if you are comfortable with it, you just do it.) 

Still shivering, I kissed him on the cheek and got up to get him some water. 

I had no idea who was on what at that point, but in that moment no questions needed answers. I just saw that he needed someone, and I was there. 

I then laid down next to him placing my mouth near his - but not touching. 

I wanted to kiss him, but also thought about the consequences of my actions. If I do this, I thought, I am going to have to then see this person FOR AN ENTIRE WEEK IN VERY CLOSE PROXIMITY. What if he's a bad kisser and then I choose not to have sex with him and then we had this like weird kinda awkward make out moment? The last thing I wanted to do was layer any sort of responsibility on myself. Radical self reliance for the win, I kissed him on the cheek one last time before retiring back to sleep myself. 

The next morning we woke up, and began playing a game of Cards Against Humanity (reigning champion right here). I didn't ask about the night before, nor care to even bring it up. 

"Thank you for taking care of me," he said quietly in a private moment as he swiftly and firmly went in with an open mouth and one very hot, very quick, and VERY passionate kiss on my lips. 

He then got up to go back to his camp, as I formally accepted my mission. 

Friel, this is the man you are going to have sex with I thought to myself, and your next move is to figure out how you are going to have sex with this man. 

<tangent> My intention at Burning Man was, sure to have sex, but more importantly to meet a guy who had similar goals as I did. The reality of that actually happening?? That part didn't even register.

Statistically speaking, I average 434 (unique) messages a week on dating apps, and have a one in 217 chance of actually going out on a date with someone. Sure, there were 80,000 people here, but I didn't really want to talk to any of them. The fact that I knew this person beforehand was the key and now that I knew we had chemistry, it was GAME ON. </tangent> 

I then ventured over to a neighboring camp in an attempt avoid him at all costs, and proceeded to ponder my next doable actions. 

I have no idea why on Earth people keep me in the shot, but here is the EXACT face I make as I plot how to pound a person. 

Logistics are everything at Burning Man. I not only had to find a way for us to get alone time, but also make sure I was as fresh and clean as I possibly could be (which is great since our RV had a shower), and also keep it all a secret (incase if for whatever reason a part of my plan backfired)

I then apple cider vinegared myself past a point that anyone would consider healthy and went over to his camp in my astronaut onesie (which I found appropriate considering our previous engagement)

"Let's go do drugs and be weird together," I said equally as firm. 

"Done!" he said, offering up some shrooms. 

We walked the Playa for the next (however many) hours as he guided me from the crowds and kept me safe from art cars, creepers, and smelly porta potties. 

Emotionally this entire process had made me feel vulnerable and submissive, but here I was in a physical sense also submitting to someone (something I had never done before). 

How did I not notice how dominant he is? I thought knowing how big of an UNBELIEVABLE turn on that is and something I've wanted for quite some time. 

Remember this video? ... 

This was seven years ago. I still have yet to let a man put me in handcuffs.  

<tangent> It's not at all a disrespect to the other incredible men I have been with and dated, but you can only get what you are wiling to give. I have an entire career due to the fact that I have had difficulties with intimacy, and I recognized that I wasn't ready until now for this life experience. I had to be in a situation where I was TOTALLY out of sorts, completely out of control, and emotionally present enough to see what was right in front of my face. 

I wasn't afraid of going to Burning Man itself, I was afraid of the person I would come back as and as I quickly discovered, I was a virgin in every way possible.  

Here I was LITERALLY "making it through the wilderness ..."

"somehow I made it through ..."

"didn't know how lost I was until I found you ..." (or myself in this case which made me capable of giving myself to another person) 

</tangent> 

Back at the RV, I return the favor he gif-ted. 

"To the shiftpod," I said quietly as we (again) not so quietly began ripping each others' clothes off.  

Hydration was for once not an issue as we began having sex ... on the floor ... for two FULL hours. 

In that moment ... ::insert song title here:: 

and while I wasn't sure if I was ... ::insert song title here:: 

I felt the ... ::insert song title here:: 

Knowing fully in this moment that ... ::insert song title here:: 

and never in my ... ::insert song title here:: 

did I think sex could feel like this. 

He wham 

Bammed 

And thank you ma'amed me into a series of

the most intense orgasms I've ever had. 

Unable to move at one point, I joked as I realized I had grabbed the pole to the shiftpod so hard that it looked like I actually broke it. 

I couldn't tell if it was the shrooms, or the fact that our bodies that just merged so well together. I didn't care to analyze why what was happening when it was happening, all I knew was to go WITH whatever was happening and to just let it all happen. 

Oh oh! And because costumes were ready and available, I was also able to cross off "roleplaying" from my life list. 

"Grab that plaid onesie and paper towel roll" was a sentence that actually came out of my mouth. Executing LumberJack fantasies, FTW! (Take that Cards Against Humanity!) 

We had sex as an astronaut, unicorn, snowman, and pilot. We had sex in the RV, in the shiftpod, in the shower (not turned on because our bodies were already physically turned on and we weren't wasteful). I had so much sex with this man that I can now OWN the title of "sex blogger." 

<tangent> I've always laughed when someone says this is a sex blog. Yes, the word sex is next to the headline, but I DON'T HAVE SEX. HOW CAN I BE A SEX BLOGGER IF I DON'T HAVE SEX? </tangent> 

I could feel a confirmation of confidence grow as I quieted the analytical mind, and started speaking to and from my body. I was not only FULLY comfortable in my own skin, I was able to share that with someone else and experience pleasure in an entirely new way. 

WHO HAS SEX FOR TWO HOURS?!?! That was just that one time too!!! Do you know how PAINFUL your jaw and lady bits get like after an hour?? I'm also being banged on the floor of a tent, AND NOTHING MATTERED except the fact that this person was inside of me. 

And come to find out ... 

it was only just the beginning. 

#nerdsunite

Monday
Sep102018

#BurningMan: The release from intention detention (what Burning Man is actually like PT 2)

<editorsnote> If you're an executive reading this after our pitch meetings, here's a post highlighting what we discussed. And here is the most recent slave post. If you're a nerd, keep reading ... </editorsnote

This is a series of posts regarding my experience at Burning Man. Here's part one if you want to catch up ... or don't, I'll somewhere in this series be talking a lot about sex so does the catching up part actually matter? 

Oh yeah, and dear Mom and Dad, it's prolly not a good idea for you to read this, but I love you.

Onto the post ... 

I've at this point not only made the decision to face my own fear and actually go to the Burn, but now I have a ticket in hand, and written confirmation to work saying that I was off like a prom dress.

I wrote in that email that "I was going to come back a new person" and I truly meant it. I've changed a lot in the last three years; I went from feeling like I was going through this emotional puberty, to now seeing through bullshit faster and finally understanding how powerful of a manifestor and creator I am (and always have been) ... but just because it was finally starting to sink in didn't mean I was willing to do anything about it.

Feeling overwhelmed with both having a tech startup (with multiple verticals), a sold TV show I was solely (at first) responsible for getting back on track, a dog with on and off health issues, and friends and family I hold a deep loyalty to provided a strong enough distraction from my own goals. Burning Man meant I would be away from those distractions causing me to face what I actually wanted to do with my life. As a goal oriented person, it wasn't difficult to identify but it still didn't mean I was going to be comfortable with sitting with the vulnerability it required. 

I consistently create work projects to avoid my own ultimate project of self. 

To be in a healthy and truly intimate relationship, I have to learn to change that. As we all know the first step to any sort of intimacy is not only being able to express your vulnerabilities, but also face them yourself. I actually had a friend say this the other day that intimacy is "into me I see." 
It blew me away how simple that is, and how true I believe it to be. While they weren't "forever relationships" my two most recent were out of this world wonderful in their own ways. With each one I learned to share from places I didn't even know I held real estate. 
With no more property listings left unclaimed, I truly knew that I was finally ready (again) to be in a relationship and at 33 (almost 34) would be elated if it was my last. I don't know if anyone is truly "ready" to start a family but I'm ready for my own. (I came to that conclusion last year.) 

A big part of Burning Man is setting your intention going in, and mine was to find a husband. Albeit you can start a family without marriage, but as someone who is old fashioned, it was something I definitely wanted. Inching closer to my middle 30s means that I have to start to make very serious decisions about my still (for now) fertile future.
I've purposefully spent the last year working on myself (as it takes two to tango and if I want an actual "man" I have to be a "woman" myself) making sure my side of the street was clean.
I can't confirm that I'm 100% there yet, but my friends were ready and willing to help in the process. 

"What's your intention," asked my friend M one day over text. 
"I want to get married. I want to find a husband," I texted back. 
"Be careful what you wish for," he said "the playa provides." 
One full eye roll later ... 

... I in that moment made a decision to finally surrender to the process. If I continued to give any sort of attitude of the Burn being this or that, I'd miss out on what it actually is. 

"Let me help you, he said. I want to provide you with anything and everything you'll need for this life experience. You get whatever basic essentials you need, and I'll provide the rest."

WOW! I messaged back. 

With your intention being on finding a husband, I'll come up with ways to help spread that message. 

Never one to say no to when the universe is BLATANTLY providing something, I profusely thanked him for his help. 

"It's not a problem at all," he messaged. "It's bringing me great joy being able to help you." (I've previously helped this person with a lot of things, and even consider him and our mutual friends family.) 

The Wednesday before the Burn began, he stopped by my apartment with two full backpacks of HUNDREDS of lights, two masks, HUNDREDS of batteries (all different sizes), all natural chapstick with Matthew McConaughey's face on it .... 


... power supplies, adapters, first aid kits, camelback, carabiners, a cup, sharpies, polaroids (those are big on the playa) goggles, and a bike that literally represented my intention ... 

The basket even had a dried bouquet of flowers - when I say he thought of everything, I actually mean it. I was completely blown away. 

I can't even imagine how much time and money he spent on the supplies, but all I could do was say thank you, knowing it was coming from illuminated love. 

"I know you keep saying you're coming back a different person," he said, "but don't change too much. You're already a great person to begin with." 

"Thank you," I said again from the same place. 

He then pulled out two manila envelopes and one letter. One of the envelopes was sealed, and the other was open. They read "Cowboy Carl," "Temple," and "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap." 

"I don't want to tell you to do anything, as the playa has its own time frame, but if you can, find Cowboy Carl (he then turned over the envelope to reveal a handwritten map drawn in this weird U-ish-shape), place this one in the Temple, and if you can find the camp "Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap" please do and give them this letter. If not, don't worry about it." 

"I can't believe that sentence just came out of your mouth," I said laughing, but not a problem. "I don't understand this map though." 

"Don't worry about that part, you'll see when you get there, but this is a setup of the playa and here's about where Cowboy Carl will be. (He circled the right hand side at about 3 o'clock.)

I thank people with my actions and not words, so even though he said it wasn't that big of a deal, to me it was everything. I was MORE than grateful for all of his help and was going to do everything in my power to find the people he was looking for (with a limited understanding of where and how to go about even finding them)

Besides, the name "Cowboy Carl" sounded DAMN HOT, and I was ready and willing to explore all of the "providing-ness from the playa." 

By Friday, I had all of the supplies I needed for our departure early the next morning.

(Our plan was to take our time getting up there, and stop in Mammoth along the way there and back so we could rest. My friends have been going for nearly a decade and they continuously spoke of how arduous and physical the drives on either end would be.) 

I spent the morning and early afternoon working (from home), and somewhere around four I got a text from the NC-guru ... 

Working in social means that even though I am not personally posting updates, I am still on the platform in some capacity for the brands I work for. (I purposefully keep my hands in a bunch of projects at any given time - see what I was saying about that avoidance of self work?? Now you get it.)

 Being a mere two days before the gates to the playa opened meant that half my feed was photos and videos of experiences. Instead of feeling calmer about having a visual, I FREAKED. THE. FUCK. OUT. 

The playa videos gave me flashbacks to the movie Killer Klowns from Outerspace (a movie that I loved as a kid but also found utterly TERRIFYING) ... 

All I could think was ... 

BUT WHERE WAS I RUNNING TO OR FROM?!?! I DIDN'T EVEN UNDERSTAND THE MAP!!! ::cries::

I quickly wrapped up my laundry and joined the Guru, (who also had one of our other friends over at his place)

"Are you okay?" she asked as I walked in. 

"I'm fine," I said. "I've actually gotten really good at calming myself down from panic attacks. I slowly and calmly start calling out everything in the room around me. I look down at my feet first, noticing that they are touching the floor, then (out loud) mention anything and everything around me. The goal is to focus on what's real and not what I'm telling myself is "real." 

"You should be really proud of yourself," she said. "Do you know how many people choose to ignore things that they are afraid of? I've always admired you, but I can't wait to see you when you get back knowing that this experience is going to change you in so many different ways." 

"Thank you," I said. "That's the part that scares me the most is knowing I am going to change but I have had no real way to 'prepare' for an experience like this because all anyone can ever tell me is that its 'unlike anything I've ever experienced.'" 

"I get it," she said. "And I'm sure because your friends helped you in SO many ways, you didn't even have a say in the planning part." 

"That part I was okay with actually. I told my friends if I had to be responsible for planning too many things that I'd have to tap out. I would have NO CLUE what I was doing and will devote ZERO time to figuring it out. I've been so lucky that they've planned absolutely everything from start to finish." 

They then asked if I could stay for dinner (which of course I could since I was willing to do anything and everything to stay out of my own head), and we all cheersed as I dined on what felt like was my last supper. 

The van arrived the next morning, and as I began to load the bags into the back my friends surprised me with a send off reminiscent of this scene from Beauty and the Beast ... 

Their well wishes and endless support was the icing on the cake that I desperately needed in that moment. I can't say it helped any with the fear, but it did make me smile. 

Everything stuffed inside (thats what she said), we then grabbed the rest of the group before heading down to Orange County to pick up the RV.

See my face in this photo? See the excitement ... 

NO BECAUSE THAT IS THE FACE OF TERROR.

I wouldn't even open my eyes because I was actually pretty pissed he was taking my photo at all. 

OH, but see that poster in the back? Do you know the band Stiched up Heart? One of the band members lent us his van and trailer for the burn and even offered to drive us down. We even got to hear their new album on the way down. 

Here's some of their earlier work that you might know ... 

Finally Free has over 3 million views, and Grave has just over 2 million. 

In between songs my girlfriend piped up and said, "if anyone asks, we are two couples heading to Oregon for the week. We're not sure if we'll make it the entire way, but we're planning on driving up the California coast and seeing how far we can get." 

See, RV owners aren't exactly super enthused to rent out their trailers to Burners. Frankly, I think if you own an RV in the California/ Nevada area and rent it out during the week of Burning Man, you're already stupid and deserve every bit of dust collected. 

Playa dust is its own beast. It doesn't just "come off," you have to soak everything in vinegar, harness loads of elbow grease, and THEN clean as you would normally do anyway. We all agreed to be okay if we did not get the $1,000 deposit back considering the trailers that were "open" to Burners were nearly double what we were paying. 

An hour and a half later, we picked up our new home sans any sandy suspicions. 

The trailer was definitely one of the nicest ones I've been in. There were three beds in total, full kitchen, shower, and everything was electronic - which normally is awesome, but at the Burn sucked because it includes more place for dust to hide. 

"You tech people," said my girlfriend. "Does this thing have a GPS or anything that he could use to track us?" 

"Absolutely there are things he can use," I said, "but finding them might be a bit challenging." 

The two techies in the group attempted to view the master control panel, with nothing jumping out to either of us. We again had agreed to be okay with losing the deposit so the rest was going to be whatever it was going to be.  

En route, we grabbed all of the drugs we were planning on doing (which consisted of e, acid, and shrooms)

"Where's the weed," asked one of my friends. 

"Oh ... "

... said the person who was clearly responsible for bringing it. 

Not a problem, another one of us said popping on google identifying the closest dispensary. 

We then got off on a random half paved half dirt road and followed the navigation to what looked like the sketchiest weed shop (which says a lot for weed shops as I personally think most of them look pretty sketch)

Ass, gas and grass now in hand, we sparked a j (minus the driver) and really began the journey. Mammoth is 330 miles from the area where we picked up the RV. The state of California limits you from traveling more than 55 miles per hour with any sort of trailer attached. With stops and traffic, we expected it to take anywhere between 7-10 hours. Fortunately, the RV had a bathroom (and shower) so that limited those stops, but between gas and a final Walmart trip in Carson City, we still had plenty of work to do. 

That's one of the coolest parts about Burning Man is thinking you know your friends, but then REALLY getting to know them. Burning Man is very physically and financially taxing. I still haven't gotten the final amount but in total I spent around $2K for the entire trip start to finish. Which is a total steal. Had I had to purchase ALL of those playa supplies, I would have EASILY been set back another $500-1k. To say that one) I could afford it, and two) have SUCH AMAZING FRIENDS helping in every aspect of every way meant the world to me. I've always been a giving person, but the reciprocity I received was OFF THE CHARTS! 

Seven or so hours later, we finally ended up in Carson City and at our last stop before the hotel. 

We waited until the very last minute to grab all of the fresh food for the fridge and give ourselves time to pick up anything we forgot. An hour and a half of decision making under florescent lights later, we were all utterly exhausted and more than ready to go.

Shockingly though (or not considering how awesome my friends are), we were all still extremely respectful of one another. Even in a combined state of hanger and drowning in florescence ... 

We even took the quintessential "we actually bought all of this" series of photos.

For some reason we took this outside of the restrooms ... don't ask me why ... 

I'm not a happy person to begin with. 

A few hours later we arrived at the hotel (which was a really nice Westin) prepping for our last hot shower in at least a week. (We were staying the full time on the playa getting in on late am Sunday leaving late Saturday.) 

As room service was ordered, I opened up three of my bags realizing none of them had my clothing in them. I accidentally gave the wrong bag to our friend and placed all of my clean clothes in the VERY far back of the trailer making them totally unaccessible. 

Well, I thought, I expected to get dirty, I just didn't think it would happen at the "I should still be clean stage of things." 

The next morning, I quickly finished up some work as we grabbed breakfast by the lobby. When we were done I set for the first time in four years an "out of office" email response. I then closed my computer for the last time as the person I thought myself to be. 

I couldn't say I was "ready" for whatever was going to be "next," but my expectations didn't even come close to the reality of what I experienced. Burning Man was not at ALL what I expected. 

I mean I knew people had sex there ... 

... BUT THIS MUCH??? 

Or was that just us ...? 

Here's the actual text message I sent to my best friend when I got home ... 

and I can't WAIT to share all the dirt. 

Part 3 is up next and this one will leave you ... 

#nerdsunite

 

Thursday
Sep062018

#BurningMan: That time being called a Virgin Burner was a "good thing" (kinda NSFW)

<editorsnote> If you're an executive reading this after our pitch meetings, here's a post highlighting what we discussed. And here is the most recent slave post. If you're a nerd, keep reading ... </editorsnote> 

Oh, and dear Mom and Dad, it's prolly not a good idea for you to read this, but I love you.

Onto the post ...

 

After months of planning (two to be exact), multiple panic attacks (which I am very proud that I can now talk myself out of), and countless questions with answers like "it's like seeing color for the first time, you're not going to understand Burning Man until you actually experience it." 

For the last almost decade I've received invite after invite for Burning Man. The very basic concept of Burning Man is that it's a community that appears for a week (and some change) on a dried lake basin and operates solely on a gifting/ bartering system. 

Bartering is my jam. I'm naturally a giver and helper, so that's a no brainer ... but also being an entrepreneur, in 2009 I IMMEDIATELY saw the value of social media and without a quantifiable monetary value attached, I started bartering social media as a way to live. My lowest hanging fruit in terms of sales was everyone (since it was so new), and if I liked their product, I would ask for food, clothing, shelter, or shout out in exchange for teaching them how to use the platforms themselves. (I executed "influencer marketing" before it was a thing.)

Talk Nerdy To Me Lover Pitch from jen friel on Vimeo.

 

FYI, this post feels kinda douchey now, but here's our (still to this day) about us page and here's The Truth Behind TNTML (which is less douchey because I did not write it). 

With that as my baseline mentality you would think Burning Man is totally my peanut butter, and fluffernutter, right? 

The people that I was/ am personally and professionally involved with in tech talked about it in the DOUCHEST way. See this video below which hits the NAIL ON THE HEAD!!! 

I'm not that kind of person. I genuinely did what I did out of spending a lifetime being the one in class, in the family, and at work fixing and explaining various forms of technology in a VERY simple way that everyone could understand. During this time, I knew people that charged up to $12K to SET UP a Twitter page (NO STRATEGY JUST SETTING UP A FUCKING PAGE) - and it lit me up like a Christmas tree.

I felt like they were taking advantage of people and these SAME personality types were the ones that were going on and on about how "incredible" this society is, and how it was "unlike any other experience any human being could EVER experience." All that I knew from my perspective about any "world that they created" was something I did NOT want to be a part of.  

The off the chart douchefactor aside, did I also mention that I don't like crowds? Pardon the comparison (I know this will upset some Burners), but back in 2013 I had a sponsored trip to Coachella by JBL. I rode in an RV with Thomas Hawk, Robert Scoble, Sam Levin, Chris Voss, and had an all expense paid trip to the festival (including hotel, per diem and VIP passes)

We were asked to post about our experiences and if you notice on all of the Facebook posts I made, none of them HAD ANYTHING to do with the actual show ... 

I wasn't interested in Coachella AT. ALL.

I instead told a narrative around the JBL swag bag and gave all of it away (due to one part being on the very generous receiving end of this community and one part a marketer and saw the value in exposure vs needing more "things.") ... 

JBL was SUPER happy (you can read the post here) and see this video here. 

I make it a habit to go left anytime everyone else is going right. I either have an extra chip or am missing a chip but the concept of FOMO doesn't exist in my brain.

I don't have a fear of missing out, I instead create my own reality (typically with very few people existing in it). Had there been a band I was interested in at Coachella that year, I more likely than not would have seen their set ... but from a far far away distance (or front row - I operate in polarities - it's my personality type)...

I made it a point to show up on festival grounds to introduce myself to everyone working the booth (they had previously taken us to a dinner with the executives) but then quickly about faced it back to the (FAR MORE EMPTY) hotel where I laid by the pool ... 

... and then watched the sunset from my room because obvi.

I like what I like and I do what I do, so why on Earth would I choose to put myself in a position that would LITERALLY leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere for an ENTIRE WEEK without cell service, wifi, or any assistance of any kind from the outside world? 

1) Because it ABSOLUTELY PETRIFIED ME. (I've from a personal perspective been working on actually letting things go particularly with work, and there was no better way to do that than to be "forced" off the grid.) 

and ... 

2) Because my actual friends are awesome and they were the ones that invited me this year (and I trust how smart they are in knowing what they are doing with drugs. You do a lot of them at Burning Man, FYI and I've only done them a handful of times and would by know means trust myself to know what I'm doing. Read here and here)

Also, I noticed subconsciously that I kept using the phrase "I just want to burn it" over and over. My dog has had really bad food allergies on and off for the last year and as anyone who knows what that life experience is like, it makes everything the dog touches smell. Present party included! My couches, chairs, clothing ... I was ready to get rid of all three anyway, but was also balancing out the fiscal responsibility in doing so. 

I'd come home from work, or smell a pair of pants that Buster had been laying on (that I had been wearing) and shout, I JUST WANT TO BURN EVERYTHING!!!!!! It's not his fault that he has this issue, and as his mom there's not a snowballs chance in hell that I would let it affect any level of affection received on his part. 

The invitation was great, but it was the subconscious part that got my attention. I remember people saying over the years that the "Burn calls you," and "you'll know when you need to answer." 

Having also felt burned out with work (with two big projects coming to an end and another very large one beginning) - I recognized how exhausted I've been and wanted to avoid a repeat of the episode I had last year.

I haven't taken a vacation longer than a few days in close to four years, and I wasn't okay with that. Sure the timing couldn't have been more horrific, but if I was truly focused on letting things go with work, and taking better care of myself personally - this would theoretically be a no brainer. 

I wasn't sure, and all I knew was that as the weeks went on, my panic grew worse and worse. I operate from a logical capacity. If someone can explain something to me, and I can do a little research, I can at least partially wrap my brain around something and learn to not be scared of it.

<tangent> Riding along with a Vegas taxi cab driver between the hours of 4-6 am? Scary, but I also sent a photo of the driver's license to my friend and (hoped) my legs could run fast enough if I needed to get away. 

Crashing the Grammy Awards? Scary, but also knew my worst case scenario was paying a fine and sitting in a jail cell for trespassing. (I also saw the value in leveraging that into some sort of publicity - if I wasn't the person who crashed the Grammy Awards, I could be the person that failed at crashing.)

The list can go on, but you all know most of these stories and I won't bore you. </tangent> 


The more that I researched the Burn, the less that felt like I understood. Friends tried to be of assistance, but again, coming from a logical capacity hearing that "the Burn will be what you need the Burn to be" didn't help.

Besides, just because I made the decision to go to the Burn, didn't actually mean that I had any sort of ticket. Did I mention how difficult tickets are to get? (I actually learned that they release 50,000 tickets to any sort of "camp" that creates art ... tell you more about that in a second ... and the other around 30,000 to people who just want to attend.)

It's an absolutely GENIUS way to create supply and demand. The people that are creating the art are providing the spectacle for the Burners, and those that want to Burn (but aren't providing the visuals) have to work for it in their own way. No matter what everyone has to pay a base price (around $400 but on scalping sites can go as high as $2K), but that type of demand generates brilliant and FREE MARKETING (particularly in social media)

Excuse me but I'm feeling a little ... 

Just kidding, that part didn't cum until later. 

At the end of July, my girlfriend said there was a fundraiser for the Burn camp we would be attending. "We can see if they can get you a ticket," she said over text. "But they have to meet you in person."

See, Burning Man is all about the people you spend it with. Everyone has these "camps" that can range from 4 people to hundreds. This particular camp had around 70-80, which is good because if you have more than that you run the risk of your camp being searched by LE aka law enforcement. 

<tangent> Burning Man also has their own "code" - LE being one of them. Here's a glossary should you care to explore. </tangent> 

I can't say I was surprised to learn this, but cops (undercover and otherwise) are everywhere at Burning Man.

I don't know exactly if that's why they have camps, but it does provide (at least psychologically) a bit of protection. 

To be a part of a camp I needed to: 

1) Have an in with a friend (I had an in with three)

2) Go through an "interview process" (mine was done face to face).

3) And I had to send them my links in social media. 

Do I think it filters all LE out? Probably not, but I think that people reveal plenty (especially in person when on drugs ... you are also instructed to not bring certain people back to the camp ... more on that later) but I do admire at least some sort of preventative measure to keep the rif raff out. 

I passed the "interview process" with flying colors ... 

... and a few days (and $400 something) later, the "playa provided" in the form of a ticket from the head of the camp.

One part of me was ABSOLUTELY elated, and the other part was still terrified. A ticket in hand meant that this life experience was now actually going to happen ... 

Work, work, I thought using work as my LAST REMAINING HOPE TO STAY IN MY OWN COMFORT ZONE.

Why not invite fear to make itself right at home ... I'd happily make up a nice couch (hopefully smell free)... I can cook a lovely dinner ... wine!! I even have wine!!! 

I wish I could say this sentence is true ... 

... but I knew if I was this afraid of ANYTHING that I had to charge directly towards it with ALL FEAR ASIDE WHICH IS LIKE REALLY HARD TO DO!!! 

The Monday before Burning Man, I let my company know that I was actually going to Burning Man.

This is what I sent ... 

Here was the response ... 

Which is exactly what I did. 

I had ... 

Took ... 

 

and listened to ... 

Here's an actual text from last night ... 

and part 2 is coming up next. Click here to read.

#nerdsunite

 

Friday
Jul272018

#RealDeal: What's your fantasy (that time I catfished a celebrity only to be catfished myself the next day)?

<editorsnote> If you're an executive reading this after our pitch meetings, here's a post highlighting what we discussed. And here is the most recent slave post. If you're a nerd, keep reading ... </editorsnote> 

I've decided to go to Burning Man this year. I don't want to talk about it until I experience it, but one of the things my friends keep telling me is that once you are called and you answer (I know I know stay with me here), "things will start to fall into place and come together effortlessly and naturally." I can't see the full picture of what that means yet, but what I can see is that my actions have an almost IMMEDIATE reaction. This story is the proof in the pudding ...

On Saturday, I received this text from a guy on Bumble  ... 

I wrote "friend" and not "girlfriend," and by singular girlfriend I meant plural ... and by plural I mean 10 or so deep. 

Either way, he accepted the spontaneous plans, and after an hour delay on my part, we met up at the Brewery (still a half hour before my friends arrived)

I found him as soon as I walked in. 

Much like my NC dating master guru predicted, he was even more attractive in person than in his photos.

<tangent> See, I've enlisted the help a non-certified Guru that happens to be my bestie born in the body of a very attractive gay male. He's the reason why I changed my dating profile, and has helped identify which of the matches are actually worth my time in meeting. I'm looking to get married and have babies, which means I am pulling out all of the stops to make sure I am not only meeting the "right" kind of guy but that I myself am making the "right" choices. </tangent> 

From my perspective, his photos were great ... I mean come on ... 

... but I just didn't have enough of that pizzazz of back and forth witty banter that eventually woos me enough to want to meet with someone. 

It's a date, Friel, I thought. Stop overthinking and go meet. 

I mentally high fived the NC Guru upon arrival, feeling 1/2 Emma Stone's character in Crazy Stupid Love ... 

... and 1/2 well, this ... 

We then sat down grabbing a round, and started the ever so painful "getting to know someone process." By the end of the first drink we had covered current location (including every place we have ever lived), work, family, growing up, and a slight understanding of where our individual futures were heading. 

Wanting to shake things up a bit, I asked if he was any good at skeeball. 

"I don't know how to play," he admitted. 

"Let me teach you," I said.

Six games, a 100 point rim shot, and 380 score later, the student had become the master. 

Well done, I said with a high five beginning to now respect him. 

He mentioned during our "getting to know each other process" that he was a rocket scientist (my words not his, his words were "astrophysicist," which is close enough). Wondering if life was pulling my leg (because NO ONE that attractive could ACTUALLY be smart), I pried more into what he did exactly work wise and immediately found it fascinating. 

I had no idea that if you work for NASA or any sort of funded space program, as the scientist you are also responsible for fundraising your own research. Obviously that's spoken very simply and there's also a political element to it, but I had no idea that EVEN AT THAT LEVEL they had to hustle and work hard not only on their craft, but on their marketing, pitch, and sales skills; that takes an OFF THE CHART level of IQ and EQ that I found very attractive. 

By the second glass my girlfriends arrived, but not before taking this SUPER CREEPY video of our rendezvous. 

One by one my girlfriends ran up to introduce themselves each sharing the same reaction ...

Jen Friel, he is really hot. (My name is one word in that group, and throughout most of my life.)

I know, I said laughing, and HE'S ACTUALLY SMART  ... 

I then properly greeted the birthday girl, as she asked where I had found this guy. 

"Bumble," I admitted. "Totally new perspective on men, and I feel like my life is coming together in a full circle. I'm in the process of completely leveling up." 

"YEAH YOU ARE," she said. 

My date was four friends into surface conversation, before I checked his pulse. 

"You have really great friends," he said smiling. 

"Oh they are a handful," I said, but I respect and appreciate you were willing to meet me and them so spontaneously. 

I then asked if he wanted another drink, and he said he couldn't because he drove. 

I totally respect that, I said. Let me walk you out. 

I dared to not turn around as I walked him out wondering what hilariously obnoxious motions my girlfriends were NO DOUBT demonstrating. 

I stopped on the sidewalk as we approached the parking lot. 

"It was really nice to meet you," I said with a smile and a pause. 

See, normally if I'm not into a guy I'll go in for what I call the "confident hug." It's warm, and inviting but also leaves ZERO chance for any sort of awkward unwanted kiss. 

Standing there for a moment meant that I was interested.

He then went in for the hug, and it kinda seemed like he was wondering if I was going to kiss him ...

only I like the guy to take the lead in that situation so I didn't ...

standing there both confused we mutually went in for yet another hug which I wasn't mad at because DAMN HIS BODY FELT GOOD ... 

I walked back over to the group and was immediately asked about the kiss. 

Didn't happen, I admitted, but it was a really great date!

Still confused at how such an attractive and smart creature could be single, they asked again how we met. 

"Bumble," I said again. "I've had an entirely new perspective on online dating thank to the NC Guru. Look at my profile. It reveals everything and nothing!" 

 

My phone was then passed around the table as one of the girls clicked on my messages and saw that only one name was familiar. 

"Who ARE ALL these men," she asked? 

"There are plenty of great guys out there!! It's just ALL about how you market yourself!!! I've known this for a while, but never executed from the male perspective." 

Phones were then passed around as I changed two of the girls' profiles passing on the guidance shared. 

"You took away all of the things I like," she said. 

"Leave it for a week. A/B test. I could be right, I could be wrong. Just try it." 

Done, we all agreed, as I popped on over to the other side of the table. 

As I sat down, I noticed two of the girls laughing and admitting that they were catfishing someone. 

Knowing how attractive my friends are, I was a bit confused. "Why would either of you be catfishing someone?" 

"It's a celebrity," they said. "Do you know Puddin' Tane?" 

"Yes," I said, knowing that everyone knows Puddin' Tane.

<tangent> See, Puddin' Tane (name changed to protect the guilty) is a not only a very well known actor, but to the women of Los Angeles? He's known as ONE HELL of a creep in online dating. I don't know if this has been publicly revealed, and quite frankly even if it has been, it's not my place to call them out. Either way, because we had/have no plans on fucking him, we immediately decided to fuck with him ... </tangent> 

"THIS IS GENIUS," I said super excited. "I can help you confirm your identity. I HAVE HIS NUMBER TOO!" 

We moved our drinks to the side as my own spy mode was officially activated. 

First things first, I said, let's confirm if he uses multiple numbers and or has a burner of some kind. 

We both pulled up the info on the text message and confirmed that indeed it was the same number.

That technically doesn't confirm that he doesn't have multiple lines but as two "perfect strangers" that met him, we at least had the same digits. 

Second, you send him a photo from your phone, and I'll send that SAME photo immediately after. 

She did, and once complete, I sent this ... 

Immediately I got a response ...

"What's your name and how did you guys meet?" I asked for the first time. 

I BURST OUT LAUGHING as I text her answer ... 

See, our girlfriend really did meet PT in Cabo and got his number. It wasn't until she came back telling my OTHER girlfriend about it and it was the other girlfriend who admitted to liking him. Thus the catfishing began! 

Stepping right into our trap, he asked for what we both knew he would ask for ... 

We took two selfies and sent them (one with strategic placement of our mouths) ... 

See that? It visually reads "insert your penis here." 

 Catfish confirmation mission complete, we then level upped our own game and decided to Facetime PT ...

... and like a smart man he knew not to answer. 

Moving onto something else that was shiny, we quickly got bored and shortly after I grabbed a LYFT home. 

The next morning, (I was shockingly perky as a peach) I got a text from a guy I was scheduled to have a date with ... 

I then suggested a restaurant that 1) I knew had bottomless mimosas, and 2) was a place where I knew the bartenders. If the date sucked I could at least make the most of it by hanging with my friends and potentially meet another guy.

His answer surprised me ...

His texts continued ... 

I looked down at the photo ... 

That was NOT the person I matched with. 

I immediately texted the NC guru ... 

I then screenshot the photo and sent it, as I scrolled through my phone remembering that I had screenshot his profile (to brag to my friends how hot he was), but quickly realized that I had recently deleted it to make room for (presumably) other screenshots. 

THE ONE TIME, I thought mentally shaking my fist. 

I then thought back to his behavior and remembered that he had unmatched me earlier in the week. I only knew this because Bumble tried to match me with him again. 

I explained this to the guru as I also admitted my behavior from the evening before ... 

The guru didn't respond (due to him sleeping like a normal person), so sans any guidance I was forced to make my own decision.

Do I ...

a) tell the guy to fuck off.

b) Say WTF that does NOT look like the profile pictures you featured on bumble

or

c) Say nothing knowing that this is instant karma for my accessory to catfishing behavior from the night before and this was EXACTLY the kind of "sign" my friends were talking about in terms of the "burning man experience." 

Guess which option I chose ... 

I then grabbed a LYFT to head over to the bar. I made sure to arrive first to pick a table within the eye line of the bar (just incase I needed any sort of assistance from friends).

He arrived moments later, and looked exactly like the photo he had sent.  

We exchanged pleasantries and began the "getting to know you process." He admitted to working in the restaurant business launching a handful of hugely successful brands. 

"That's why you were so picky on the place," I said. "This is what you do for a living - okay, now that makes sense." 

We then chatted about life, and I got to pick his brain on trends in the culinary world. 

An hour or so later, our date was done. While aesthetically yes, the person I matched with was night and day from the one who I swiped on, but I really wasn't mad at the experience as a whole. Had he put the picture he sent of himself online would I have swiped? Probably not. Will I give him a second date? Hell no, that fucker is a fake ... 

Besides, I already had that life experience. (AND THANK YOU INTERNET FOR TRACKING HIM ... or should I say HER DOWN!!

<tangent> Also, how lucky am I that my catfish was such a giver? I got third row floor seats to the New Kids On The Block comeback tour!!! Who does that happen to?!!? </tangent> 

I then bopped on over to the bar to gush to my friends about my experience explaining to them not only the night before but my morning date's behavior. As I pulled up the photo to show them, I saved the photo to the camera roll. 

"Let's see if he's truly a pro," I explained. 

See, there's meta data when you take a photo using your phone. It erases if you upload it to social media, but if you're directly sending a photo to someone you can see not only the date it was taken, but also the EXACT location. Try it now on your phone ... it's pretty creepy. 

"The only way to turn off the meta data is if you put your phone in airplane mode when you're taking a photo. The type of person that would go to this kinda trouble to take a photo is the kind of person that would catfish someone." 

As I opened up the camera roll, the most recent picture was his, and the meta data recorded the photo as being taken "today" at that exact time. 

"Told you," I said with a smile. 

Mirroring a child who had just been told there was no Santa, my friend looked up and said ... 

"... some sort of spy?" he asked. 

No, I said. Just a nerd whose no longer the newest kid on the block. 

 

#NerdsUnite

 

Wednesday
Jul182018

#NerdsUnite: That time I got stiffed (instead of getting something stiff) 

<editorsnote> If you're an executive reading this after our pitch meetings, here's a post highlighting what we discussed. And here is the most recent slave post. If you're a nerd, keep reading ... </editorsnote> 

Last Friday, I went to the local watering hole with my best friend (who happens to be gay, a guy, and not into anything tech), and somewhere near the end of our first glass of wine, I referenced a gif I had sent to a guy on Bumble, "let me show it to you," I said grabbing my phone. 

As I pulled up Bumble, I quickly realized I couldn't find the conversation. 

"Oh, I said laughing, he clearly googled me and unmatched." 

"Why would someone unmatch with you?" he asked confused. 

"I fully disclose in my profile that I'm a writer and that I have the blog. Some men get weirded out by it." 

"Why do you need to fully disclose your blog to people?" 

I took a moment, and thought about it, before responding with "you're right! I've spent my entire 'career' disclosing that information because my website and myself were one in the same. It's been (almost) a decade, and one full lifetime later. So, why am I still doing this?" 

I immediately deleted my entire profile (and also took down my TedX picture) and changed my profile to this ... 

The results were immediate, and on Monday, I texted him my findings ... 
As I was texting him, I got YET ANOTHER text from YET ANOTHER date ... 
I'm a sapiosexual, so leading with "just" my looks was the LAST thing on my mind. I'm a hot chick, why the fuck did I not think of leading with that!!! Who knew dating could be so easy???

Well done, Friel. You're for once not over thinking things.

Now, onto the post ... 

The more honest I've been able to be with myself, the more that I realized I never actually made dating a priority. I made dating a business yes, but a priority no. When I reread texts or (even worst) posts, I noticed a pattern in starting them off with ... "I thought I was going to meet this guy, and then I had this work thing come up ..." 

If I really want what I say I want, this should be the only coming I'm focused on ...

The "episode" I had back in September was such a blessing in disguise; it forced me to face my own mortality, which then lead to a stronger focus on what my intentions are. 

I want a family, and to make that happen, I have to shift my priorities. 

I then popped on Bumble, and matched with a guy who is in the C suite of a tech company you all know. 

The tall, dark, and handsome boxes checked, I then gave him my number and FOUR HOURS of gif game/ texting later (I dig a man with endurance) ... we set a date for our actual date. 

<tangent> I'm one of these people that doesn't want to text back and forth before we meet. Once the date is set, it's set in my mind and I go about my day. It doesn't mean I'm not excited to meet the person, it just means that I've got shit to do. </tangent> 

iCal appointment added, I then opened up safari and googled him. Historically, I've preferred to get to know someone first before googling them, but in this case, I knew he would be considered a public figure and I was curious to learn more. 

I typed in his first name (which is all Bumble gives you) and the company. The results were not great. 

Review after review spoke really ill of him. One review directly called him a "bully" and what a "horror he was to work for." Clearly these are just disgruntled employees, I thought thinking the person I had just talked to seemed far from being a "bully." Depending upon how the date goes, I will tell him about his ORM (online reputation management) and offer help (if he asks), I thought. 

We agreed to meet at the Belmont at 9pm (we both had meetings that ran rather late), and as I grabbed a LYFT over to my happy hour, I noticed he still hadn't texted to confirm. 

"Still on?" I sent. 

"I wasn't sure," he texted back. 

See, our very last message was a sarcastic gif stating that I wasn't actually that excited to meet him. I view playful jests as flirting. He took what I said literally. 

"Oh shit!" I texted back. "I must seem like such an asshole. No, I'm actually really excited to meet you, and can still do 9 if you can." 

"Okay," he texted. 

Shake it off, I thought to myself. Not exactly off to the best start, but that's fine. We had gotten along so well over text that I had assumed that we were vibing on the same level. Clearly that wasn't the case, but all good in the hood. 

And if there's one thing in this life I know that I'm not, it's a quitter. 

I arrived at the Belmont five minutes past nine and saw my date at the bar (drink already in hand)

Hi, I said excited that he looked just like his pictures.

I'll take a glass of rose, I said to the bartender as I took my seat.

Oh man, I said laughing, you must have thought I was such a jerk with that last text. I was totally just kidding.

Not a problem, he said as I caught him literally sizing me up and down.  

Taking the focus off of the flesh, I quickly asked about his family and passions. I listened intently, but could tell he was a bit guarded and closed off. Unsure if that was normal for him (he happened to be foreign), I continued pushing on. 

30 polite minutes later, both of our drinks were done. 

Shall we get another round? I asked. 

Sure, he said, let me just first use the restroom.

Okay, I said, waiting. 

Five or so minutes later, he returned saying that he thinks he has food poisoning from the dinner he had the night before. (He admitted to being with the CEO of his company the previous night.) 

Does food poisoning have a 24 delay effect? I thought but didn't say. 

"I'm so sorry to hear you're sick," I said. "Why don't we call it a night then so you can go home and rest." 

"Okay," he quickly replied seconds after I finished my sentence. Equally as fast, he then pulled out his phone and called an Uber. The car arrived a minute later. 

"It was nice to meet you," he said standing up. 

Shocked, but sympathetic, I said, "I hope you feel better." 

The entire date lasted less than 45 minutes, and he was out the door sans a second glance.

Well, I thought, you're all dressed up so you might as well make the most of it. I ordered another drink, as I texted my bestie. 

I've discovered in my old age that I fester far less (if at all) if I just vent. I don't need anyone to fix anything, just let me say what I need to say and be done with it. 

We continued to text ... 

I then finished my drink, and asked for the bill. 

Hi, I said grabbing the bartender (the bar was quite busy), can I have the check for the rose?

"Yes, you had the rose, and the beer too, correct?" 

The words "and the beer too" hit like bullets as I quickly processed that he stiffed me with his bill ... his $7 bill. 

See, because he had gotten there before me, I just (again) assumed that he had already paid cash. Tears immediately welled up and poured from my eyes as the bartender quickly offered a discount. 

In my 20s I got drinks because I was pretty. In my 30s? I got one because I was pitied.

I'm not sure what was worse, the date or being served an unwanted side of sympathy. 

<tangent> I feel like the fact that the bill was only $7 made it THAT MUCH WORSE. If you're experiencing money problems, no big deal! I can pick up a check, but someone in his position doing something like this? Money is not the issue!!! </tangent> 

Still processing, I typed the words "and he actually stiffed me w the bill. Now it's on." 

I then called my LYFT and headed over to another local bar. Tears still present, I sat down at the bar feeling sorry for myself. You're allowed to be sad tonight, I thought not wanting to compartmentalize my emotions to the point where I stopped feeling them. Give yourself tonight to feel sorry, and then move it the fuck on, I thought. 

My GF arrived moments later, party hat and all ... 

The previous weekend we went to my friend's birthday party and he had these tiny poop party hats clearly meant to be worn on a child, and as adult children - WE WERE GAME!!! 

I nearly spit out my wine, as she danced through the door announcing "we're going to take this shit show and make a shit salad!!!" 

We're gonna need a round of shots, she said to the bartender. This girl just had a REALLY bad date. 

Oh no, said the female bartender. 

I went into enough detail to highlight how horrible it was, but not enough to continue crying. 

Fortunately, she didn't say "that this one was on the house," but she did comment on the fact that this was true sisterhood. 

"Yeah, I said tears completely dry (the poop hat helped). This girl was in bed, and not only put on makeup, but I mean look at that hat."

That night, I might not have gotten the guy (THANK GOD!), but I did solidify a best friendship. 

 

She then asked the next day if I had heard from him, and I said no. 

"His intentions were pretty clear with his actions." 

"So, why not message him and tell him to fuck off?" she added. 

"He's not worth it," I said. "People hang themselves, and one google search alone revealed plenty."

"Congrats on being the bigger person," she said.

"Yes, the bigger person with a bestie who showed up in a very tiny poop hat." 

"Well that's what friends are for!" 

Onto the next ... and fortunately with my new game plan, there are plenty.

#nerdsunite