I've had alot of very...unusual dates, but as much as I want to pretend I'm supreme perfect princess of the world and bad dates just happen to me, in all fairness they aren't always the guys' fault. I am not just willing to admit when it's me who's the nut job, I'm willing to write about it.
There was a guy at work who had a thing for me. I was in my own little world and didn't realize it at all. Sure, I knew he thought I was cool, but I didn't get that he was crushing. We'd chat over our cubicle walls, grab a quick lunch together, make silly jokes, etc. Totally a subtle friend thing in my head. At one point we were talking about a movie that was out, he asked if I wanted to go see it with him. I said sure, and then he said we could get dinner too. I said um, yeah, that sounds good. When he walked away, my girl friend who shared a different cubicle wall popped her head over and told me I just said yes to a date with Mr. Subtle! I did? Are you sure? Yup, you and Mr. Subtle are going on a date!!
Well I hadn't thought about him in that way but then I thought, what the heck. It couldn't hurt. I'll give it a shot and see where it goes. This was long before my rule about meeting for the first date had been set, so since I lived right next to the movie theater Mr. Subtle came over to my place and then I drove us to the theater since I knew the area better. The theater was in one of those strips where there's lots of restaurants and shops in the area with one main drag and lots of turn-offs for parking. We drove around, looking and looking for a place to park. Each turn-off was packed and I had to keep getting back on the main drag. Just at the end was a stop sign and a busy street where you could turn to get on main roads and go back around to start from the beginning to look for parking again. It was a Friday night, so traffic was pretty heavy. Well, as I came up to the stop sign at the end of the road, the car behind me rear-ends us. It wasn't too too bad, so I didn't want to get out and look right there because of how it would hold up traffic. I checked with Mr. Subtle and he was ok, and so was I. I saw a gas station literally right next to us on the right so I pointed at it out my car window and the lady who hit me gave me the ok sign with her hand out hers. As I turned into the gas station, this bitch just blew past the gas station and hauled her ass away.
So this is the part where I can only assume Mr. Subtle is writing his own story about me somewhere.
Clearly this lady didn't realize she had hit someone who wasn't going to take this lying down. With little to no regard for the situation, I believe my exact words were, "Aw HELL no," and I peeled out after her. I think in one fluid motion as I hit the gas I pulled my cell phone out and threw it at Mr. Subtle and told him to call the police. I didn't even look at his face because I was not about to take my eyes off the car I was following, but based on the tone of his voice I'm pretty sure he was scared for his life. Crazy Lady Who Rear Ended Me had of course now spotted me following her and she is cutting through traffic like crazy trying to lose me. Crazy Lady underestimated me again. I myself am quite capable of doing the very same maneuvers sweetheart, so game on bitch! She's still just a couple cars in front of us and is desperately hoping I'm going to give up. Again, it's busy Friday night traffic, so we both have our work cut out for us. I hear Mr. Subtle on the phone with the police and he's trying to explain what happened. As he's explaining, I hear, "...yes, she hit us and then took off...no, we didn't get a license plate number before she took of, but we're trying now...how?...oh, we're um, we're trying to tail her now..." at which point I said something to the effect of, "Trying my ass. I'm not letting this bitch get away," and hit the gas. I then hear, "...no, she says she's not going let, um, the other car get away...yeah, I don't know..." And as if Crazy Lady could hear this, she started weaving in and out of oncoming traffic to pass cars where traffic was slower. So what did I do? Well the same thing of course! OK, that's not totally true. I considered it. I even made one faint attempt to get into the oncoming traffic lane but quickly swerved back into my proper lane. You know why? SHE'S the Crazy Lady, not me. I've only temporarily lost it. This other bitch is nuts. So as she swerved in and out of oncoming traffic, I couldn't help but lose her.
In all of this super speedy, traffic-weaving insanity, we'd only gotten the first 3 letters of her license plate, the fact that it was a forest green Mazda, and it had the front smashed in a little from the accident. Mr. Subtle, who was currently white knuckling the bar on the door, told me the police told us to go to a parking lot and wait for them to get there so maybe we should go there. I finally pull over and we get out and look at the car and luckily there's almost no damage. What's funny is if she had just pulled over in gas station, I would have looked at my car and said it's fine, if you don't want to report this let's just go on our way. We waited there and after about 45 minutes, I saw that stupid ass Crazy Lady driving down the street again! That same street where the theater and the restaurants were! Who returns to the scene of a crime just to hang out on a Friday night?!? I wouldn't have even known it was her except for the front of her car was smashed in. I was so angry I just started running after her, which she saw and bolted out of there again. I'm not sure what I my big plan was if I had caught up to her. Kick out a taillight? Just get her plate number? Drag her out of the car and kick her? Probably just the plate thing, and walking would have been a much better plan because I wouldn't have drawn attention to myself, but running at her seemed to make sense at the time. I walked back to Mr. Subtle and my car in defeat and said, "Let's just go. It's not worth waiting anymore," to which he replied in complete and total seriousness, "You're not just saying that so you can chase her again, are you?"
PS. We never did see the movie that night, but either he had a high threshold for crazy or I just wear it well, because he asked me out again the next week.
Wednesday, March 31, 2010
Wednesday, March 24, 2010
Valentine's Don't
I like to give people chances. I like to hope that the things most people think are weird are just quirks or something that makes them different from the run of the mill crowd. Some may call this optimistic, some may call it naive, and some just call it stupid. Regardless, that's how I roll...apparently.
I met a guy online and we hit it off chatting-wise. We talked for a while and he eventually asked me out. We planned to go out that Saturday which was the week before Christmas. Friday night he sends me a text telling me he has to go out of town on a last minute business trip; can we please do it the following Saturday? I say sure. Next Saturday rolls around and he texts me saying he's very sick. He hoped he'd be better which is why he waited until the day of, but he doesn't feel up to a first date. Can we do it the following Saturday? *sigh* Ok, sure. Long story short, he cancels 4 more times. (If you want to do the math folks, we're going on close to two months of cancellations)
On the last cancellation, I tell him, ok, last chance. We meet next Saturday, or we don't meet at all. The date of that Saturday was February 13th, aka Valentine's Eve, and normally I wouldn't schedule a first date at that time, but I wasn't about to make additional cancellations on my end. He agrees, no more cancellations, and decides he'd like to take me to his favorite restaurant which happens to be about 5 minutes away from his place, and about 35 minutes away from my place. That's fine with me. Meet at 8pm? Ok.
I get there right about 8:00pm and I head in to the restaurant. I do a search and I don't see him. I'm not a fan of lateness, but especially since he'd canceled so many times before, I kind of half expected him to be waiting there for me. A REAL romantic would have been waiting for me with maybe a rose or something as an I'm-sorry-you-had-to-wait-two-months-for-the-date apology, but I realize that's just the hopeless romantic in me. I take a seat at the bar, order a drink, and then wait. Around 8:15ish I send him a text asking him if he was here and I just missed him. He writes back, "Oh, you're there? Ok, I'll leave my place now then." Umm, ok... Would I have been stood up if I never texted? Who knows.
He shows up around 8:25 and meets me at the bar. He asks me if I'd like to go to a table, I say sure, and as I'm standing up he says we could probably just stay at the bar and sat down next to me. At this point, all the cancellations, the lateness, and the not listening to me would probably be red flags to most people. I, on the other hand, just wait it out, and it seemed to work out for the better.
We talk, we laugh, we have a nice time. Not too many awkward pauses, overall, pretty decent first date. He asks me what I'm doing the next day. Valentine's Day? Well, nothing really. Ok, he says, let's take a drive up the coast. Now I have long since had my rules in place and know better than breaking them. Date #2 will not be a long drive in a car where there is no escape. How about a movie instead, I suggest? How about dinner and a movie, he counters. Ok, sounds like a plan.
The next day, he calls and we set up the details of where to have dinner and what movie to see. Meet at 7pm? Sure thing. I get to the restaurant at 7pm, and oddly enough, he isn't there. I go to the bar, sit down, order a drink, and wait. Again. He shows up at 7:20, and sits down next to me at the bar without an "I'm sorry" or "Traffic was horrible." I didn't even get an "I'm running late" text. Ok, now I can see that courtesy isn't one of your strong points. He tells me he put our name in for a table, which is ridiculous because the restaurant isn't that full.
They of course seat us immediately. The hostess gives me a menu, then goes to give this D. Bag a menu, and he waves her off and tells her, "No thank you, I've already eaten." What??? Who asks someone to dinner, on Valentine's Day nonetheless, and eats before they go on the date?!?! I'm just staring at him as he says this with no verbal response. I mean, what do you say? In response to my silence, he tells me, "Oh no, go ahead and order whatever you like. I'll still cover it." Thank you. Thank you so freakin' much Mr. Charitable, because my main concern was the cost of the meal, not the awkwardness of you sitting there watching me eat. I tell him, you know what? I'll just get popcorn at the movie. Let's just go back to the bar and have a drink.
We go back to the bar and order drinks. While we're sitting there, now a little uncomfortably, he starts making comments about what's on the TV at the bar. He asks me if I like basketball. Nope, not really. I can't say that I've ever watched a game. He then asks me what I think of so-and-so and if he's having a better season then last year. Umm, I don't know. I don't even know who that guy is that you're talking about. What about this guy? He's much better on this team than the last team, don't you think? What part of I-don't-follow-basketball don't you understand? At this point, I'm really thinking about just leaving the date all together. The only thing that's stopping me is that he's already bought the tickets and at least during the movie, we don't have to talk. I look at my watch, and it's about time to head to the theater, thank god. Check please!
As we walk over to the theater, he starts talking about work. He works in financial trading, and their work is very competitive. All of his friends work in the same field, so he doesn't really know much about any other industries, jobs, etc. He asks me, "Just out of curiosity, what kind of raises and bonuses do you get in your line of work?" Inappropriate to ask, but I can tell by his tone, he genuinely has no idea as is really just curious. I tell him that I don't really get bonuses and I haven't had a raise in a couple years due to the economy, and apparently this blows his mind. He didn't believe me. How can you not get raises? I tell him no one in our company has for a while. He asks why I don't go to another company. I tell him most other companies are facing the same issues and concerns, and it would be likely I wouldn't get raises at other companies and by leaving I'd lose my seniority. He tells me his raise this year is only 24% and he's bummed about it. He then said to me, and I quote, "I just don't even understand how you can drag yourself out of bed every morning. I mean, why even show up to your job with no incentive?" Excuse me?!? Are we on a date or an interview? And who the hell are you to question me? I tell him how I am lucky to even have a job in the economy, and does he have any idea how many good employees I've have to let go over the past two years due to downsizing, and some of those good employees still can't find work?! I'm all but yelling this at him as we're sitting in the theater waiting for the movie to start. My arms are crossed over my chest. My body is turned away from him. I'm frowning. I'm using my talking-to-an-idiot tone of voice. He just chuckles at what I've just said and says, "Wow, I guess there really IS no middle class anymore, huh." and pats my arm.
WHAT?! WHAT?!?!!?! Did you just call me POOR and then chuckle about it you jerk wad?!?! I was just staring at him with my jaw on the floor as the movie started. Saved by the movie you SOB.
I'm fuming at this point, but we were going to see Wolfman, and it was something I'd wanted to see, so I tried to do a little yoga breathing to settle myself instead of storming out of the theater. Sadly the movie was just terrible. Just terrible. And even though I wasn't enjoying it, some parts of it still made me jump a little, and every time I did, Mr. Charitable leaned over all up in my face to ask me if I was scared and then laugh at me. Are you fucking kidding me? Back off you weirdo! Part of me wants to get up and pretend I'm just going to the bathroom but actually just leave the theater, but I didn't for two reasons. One: No matter what kind of douches or assholes I go out with, I refuse to drop down to their level. I am a courteous, well-mannered young lady, and I'm not going to be chicken shit and run away. Two: I didn't think this dude was clear on how this date was not going well, EVEN if I ditched him. He'd probably keep calling and texting to ask if I got sick or had to leave for an emergency. I wanted to say to his face, don't contact me again, so I could be sure he got it.
At the end of the movie, as we're walking out, he asks me what I thought of the movie. Didn't like it. His response to me not liking it was, "Oh, if you liked this, you'd really like the Twilight movies." Um, what? I told you I did NOT like the movie, and aren't the Twilight movies for kids? "Well, yeah," he says, "but IF you liked this movie, you'd like the Twilight ones." I DID NOT like this one and I WILL NOT be watching Twilight movies. To this he replies, "Well, I think you'd like the Twilight stuff because it's alot like this." Mr. Charitable needs to work on a little thing I thought we all learned as children: listening. Whatever. Someone get me the hell out of here.
We're leaving the theater and he asks me, no wait, he tells me to call him later that week to see when both our schedules are free and we can meet up again. Really? Really? What part of the date did he think went well? I can't even imagine. I very politely tell him I will not be calling because I don't think this will work out. "What?" he asks me. I don't see this working out, I tell him. Thank you for dinner last night and the movie tonight, and good luck. "Are you serious?" he asks me. Uh, YEAH.
His response: "Whatever," and turns on his heel to walk away.
Happy freakin' Valentine's Day to me.
I met a guy online and we hit it off chatting-wise. We talked for a while and he eventually asked me out. We planned to go out that Saturday which was the week before Christmas. Friday night he sends me a text telling me he has to go out of town on a last minute business trip; can we please do it the following Saturday? I say sure. Next Saturday rolls around and he texts me saying he's very sick. He hoped he'd be better which is why he waited until the day of, but he doesn't feel up to a first date. Can we do it the following Saturday? *sigh* Ok, sure. Long story short, he cancels 4 more times. (If you want to do the math folks, we're going on close to two months of cancellations)
On the last cancellation, I tell him, ok, last chance. We meet next Saturday, or we don't meet at all. The date of that Saturday was February 13th, aka Valentine's Eve, and normally I wouldn't schedule a first date at that time, but I wasn't about to make additional cancellations on my end. He agrees, no more cancellations, and decides he'd like to take me to his favorite restaurant which happens to be about 5 minutes away from his place, and about 35 minutes away from my place. That's fine with me. Meet at 8pm? Ok.
I get there right about 8:00pm and I head in to the restaurant. I do a search and I don't see him. I'm not a fan of lateness, but especially since he'd canceled so many times before, I kind of half expected him to be waiting there for me. A REAL romantic would have been waiting for me with maybe a rose or something as an I'm-sorry-you-had-to-wait-two-months-for-the-date apology, but I realize that's just the hopeless romantic in me. I take a seat at the bar, order a drink, and then wait. Around 8:15ish I send him a text asking him if he was here and I just missed him. He writes back, "Oh, you're there? Ok, I'll leave my place now then." Umm, ok... Would I have been stood up if I never texted? Who knows.
He shows up around 8:25 and meets me at the bar. He asks me if I'd like to go to a table, I say sure, and as I'm standing up he says we could probably just stay at the bar and sat down next to me. At this point, all the cancellations, the lateness, and the not listening to me would probably be red flags to most people. I, on the other hand, just wait it out, and it seemed to work out for the better.
We talk, we laugh, we have a nice time. Not too many awkward pauses, overall, pretty decent first date. He asks me what I'm doing the next day. Valentine's Day? Well, nothing really. Ok, he says, let's take a drive up the coast. Now I have long since had my rules in place and know better than breaking them. Date #2 will not be a long drive in a car where there is no escape. How about a movie instead, I suggest? How about dinner and a movie, he counters. Ok, sounds like a plan.
The next day, he calls and we set up the details of where to have dinner and what movie to see. Meet at 7pm? Sure thing. I get to the restaurant at 7pm, and oddly enough, he isn't there. I go to the bar, sit down, order a drink, and wait. Again. He shows up at 7:20, and sits down next to me at the bar without an "I'm sorry" or "Traffic was horrible." I didn't even get an "I'm running late" text. Ok, now I can see that courtesy isn't one of your strong points. He tells me he put our name in for a table, which is ridiculous because the restaurant isn't that full.
They of course seat us immediately. The hostess gives me a menu, then goes to give this D. Bag a menu, and he waves her off and tells her, "No thank you, I've already eaten." What??? Who asks someone to dinner, on Valentine's Day nonetheless, and eats before they go on the date?!?! I'm just staring at him as he says this with no verbal response. I mean, what do you say? In response to my silence, he tells me, "Oh no, go ahead and order whatever you like. I'll still cover it." Thank you. Thank you so freakin' much Mr. Charitable, because my main concern was the cost of the meal, not the awkwardness of you sitting there watching me eat. I tell him, you know what? I'll just get popcorn at the movie. Let's just go back to the bar and have a drink.
We go back to the bar and order drinks. While we're sitting there, now a little uncomfortably, he starts making comments about what's on the TV at the bar. He asks me if I like basketball. Nope, not really. I can't say that I've ever watched a game. He then asks me what I think of so-and-so and if he's having a better season then last year. Umm, I don't know. I don't even know who that guy is that you're talking about. What about this guy? He's much better on this team than the last team, don't you think? What part of I-don't-follow-basketball don't you understand? At this point, I'm really thinking about just leaving the date all together. The only thing that's stopping me is that he's already bought the tickets and at least during the movie, we don't have to talk. I look at my watch, and it's about time to head to the theater, thank god. Check please!
As we walk over to the theater, he starts talking about work. He works in financial trading, and their work is very competitive. All of his friends work in the same field, so he doesn't really know much about any other industries, jobs, etc. He asks me, "Just out of curiosity, what kind of raises and bonuses do you get in your line of work?" Inappropriate to ask, but I can tell by his tone, he genuinely has no idea as is really just curious. I tell him that I don't really get bonuses and I haven't had a raise in a couple years due to the economy, and apparently this blows his mind. He didn't believe me. How can you not get raises? I tell him no one in our company has for a while. He asks why I don't go to another company. I tell him most other companies are facing the same issues and concerns, and it would be likely I wouldn't get raises at other companies and by leaving I'd lose my seniority. He tells me his raise this year is only 24% and he's bummed about it. He then said to me, and I quote, "I just don't even understand how you can drag yourself out of bed every morning. I mean, why even show up to your job with no incentive?" Excuse me?!? Are we on a date or an interview? And who the hell are you to question me? I tell him how I am lucky to even have a job in the economy, and does he have any idea how many good employees I've have to let go over the past two years due to downsizing, and some of those good employees still can't find work?! I'm all but yelling this at him as we're sitting in the theater waiting for the movie to start. My arms are crossed over my chest. My body is turned away from him. I'm frowning. I'm using my talking-to-an-idiot tone of voice. He just chuckles at what I've just said and says, "Wow, I guess there really IS no middle class anymore, huh." and pats my arm.
WHAT?! WHAT?!?!!?! Did you just call me POOR and then chuckle about it you jerk wad?!?! I was just staring at him with my jaw on the floor as the movie started. Saved by the movie you SOB.
I'm fuming at this point, but we were going to see Wolfman, and it was something I'd wanted to see, so I tried to do a little yoga breathing to settle myself instead of storming out of the theater. Sadly the movie was just terrible. Just terrible. And even though I wasn't enjoying it, some parts of it still made me jump a little, and every time I did, Mr. Charitable leaned over all up in my face to ask me if I was scared and then laugh at me. Are you fucking kidding me? Back off you weirdo! Part of me wants to get up and pretend I'm just going to the bathroom but actually just leave the theater, but I didn't for two reasons. One: No matter what kind of douches or assholes I go out with, I refuse to drop down to their level. I am a courteous, well-mannered young lady, and I'm not going to be chicken shit and run away. Two: I didn't think this dude was clear on how this date was not going well, EVEN if I ditched him. He'd probably keep calling and texting to ask if I got sick or had to leave for an emergency. I wanted to say to his face, don't contact me again, so I could be sure he got it.
At the end of the movie, as we're walking out, he asks me what I thought of the movie. Didn't like it. His response to me not liking it was, "Oh, if you liked this, you'd really like the Twilight movies." Um, what? I told you I did NOT like the movie, and aren't the Twilight movies for kids? "Well, yeah," he says, "but IF you liked this movie, you'd like the Twilight ones." I DID NOT like this one and I WILL NOT be watching Twilight movies. To this he replies, "Well, I think you'd like the Twilight stuff because it's alot like this." Mr. Charitable needs to work on a little thing I thought we all learned as children: listening. Whatever. Someone get me the hell out of here.
We're leaving the theater and he asks me, no wait, he tells me to call him later that week to see when both our schedules are free and we can meet up again. Really? Really? What part of the date did he think went well? I can't even imagine. I very politely tell him I will not be calling because I don't think this will work out. "What?" he asks me. I don't see this working out, I tell him. Thank you for dinner last night and the movie tonight, and good luck. "Are you serious?" he asks me. Uh, YEAH.
His response: "Whatever," and turns on his heel to walk away.
Happy freakin' Valentine's Day to me.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Things Not to Say on a Second Date...or Ever
As you can probably tell, I don't have the best luck meeting guys. Well, meeting them isn't the problem. Meeting good guys is the problem. So I decided to try a new method. I joined online dating. I found my job online, I pay my bills online, I find driving directions online, I read the newspaper online. Why not find the man of my dreams online?
Here's one of many reasons why:
I met a very nice man online. We talked for a while and got along quite well. He asked me to dinner, and we had a wonderful first date. The food was exquisite, the restaurant was lovely with a picture perfect view of the ocean, the conversation was great, and there were even fireworks outside over the ocean at the end of the evening. Couldn't have asked for a nicer first date. We got along really well and I got that sweet fluttery feeling inside when I'd get a text or a call from him. Great, right? So he asks to take me out for drinks for our second date, and of course, I'm totally excited about it. I'm so excited, in fact, I break rule number two and let him come pick me up instead of meeting him. He picks me up, takes me to a very nice hotel bar, orders us some drinks, and we sit down to chat.
We start talking, and things are going just fine. We order a few more drinks and keep talking. I mention that I'm going to be taking a trip to Vegas soon, and then we start exchanging Vegas stories. I tell him the first time I went to Vegas I went for my friend's bachelor party. Bachelorette party he asks? No, bachelor party I say. Were you the stripper? he asks a little too seriously. Um, no, I have a lot of close guy friends and I was invited to the bachelor party. There were no strippers tagging along with our party. It was a bunch of guys I was very good friends with and it was a great time. I guess I should be flattered he thought I looked sexy enough to be a stripper? He asked then asked me what I did when the hookers got there. Hookers? No hookers at my friend's bachelor party. Everything was so nice up until that moment, I figured it was ok to disregard his odd comment or not-funny joke.
Now I am not a boastful person, but I do know that people feel really comfortable talking with me, telling me things they wouldn't normally tell people. I know this. I also know that we'd had a few drinks in us, and most people tend to have a little looser lips after knockin' back a few. But nothing would have prepared me for the direction our conversation took.
"Well, whenever I get married, I'm definitely having hookers at my bachelor party." Um, what? I just sat there staring at him. "Oh, not for me, of course. It's just what my friends do. There are always hookers at our bachelor parties." Oh, well as long as the groom isn't having sex with hookers, clearly there's no problem. NOT. Hello!?! Does he not just realize he's now unofficially told me he's been with hookers?! Well good luck ever getting my pants now mister. If you touched a hooker, I can safely say you aren't going to be touching me.
So after he's said this, I'm still just staring at him. Apparently to him, that means he should keep talking. "Yeah, and this one time about 12 years ago, I missed my friend's bachelor party in Vegas because I had to work. It was about 13 of my friends and they got this thousand dollar hooker. They took her up to the hotel room, put her in the middle of the room, and then they all peed on her at the same time. God, I can't believe I missed that!"
...
Really? Really? Did you just tell me that not only did people you consider to be friends get a hooker, they put said hooker in the middle of a circle, peed on her at the same time?? In addition you're saying that now, 12 years later, you are STILL upset you didn't get to join in the festivities? Holy. Ever-loving. Crap. What would ever ever ever make someone think this is information that needed to be divulged on a second date? Or a third or fourth, or EVER?? I can guaran-fuckin-tee that no self-respecting woman wants to hear that story from a man she's dating ever. I don't even know alot of guys who'd be like, "Yeah man. That sounds awesome." That's maybe one of those stories you keep to yourself. Call me crazy.
So I'm still just staring at him. As far as I can tell, he really really really has no idea this story is weird and it's made me uncomfortable. He then says, "What about you?" What about me!? ... Seriously? All I could say was "No, I don't really have any hooker and/or peeing stories. Oh, and fake yawn noise, it's getting late, please take me home." If only I hadn't broken rule number two, and then I could have gotten out then and there! Instead we had a very quiet ride home. When we got to my place, I got out of the car as quickly as I could, not giving him time to get out and open the car door for me. He asked as I was trying to close the car door more or less in his face as he leaned over, "Can I call you later?" I wish I had the presence of mind to say something witty back to him like, "No, I'm not a fan of golden showers, so this probably won't work out," or "I'm really a busy lady of the night, and I'm not accepting new clients," but it was real life and I wasn't that quick, so I just stared at him a little more with the are-you-effing-kidding-me look on my face, and then just closed the door with no comment. Good riddance and good luck on all your future dates buddy.
Here's one of many reasons why:
I met a very nice man online. We talked for a while and got along quite well. He asked me to dinner, and we had a wonderful first date. The food was exquisite, the restaurant was lovely with a picture perfect view of the ocean, the conversation was great, and there were even fireworks outside over the ocean at the end of the evening. Couldn't have asked for a nicer first date. We got along really well and I got that sweet fluttery feeling inside when I'd get a text or a call from him. Great, right? So he asks to take me out for drinks for our second date, and of course, I'm totally excited about it. I'm so excited, in fact, I break rule number two and let him come pick me up instead of meeting him. He picks me up, takes me to a very nice hotel bar, orders us some drinks, and we sit down to chat.
We start talking, and things are going just fine. We order a few more drinks and keep talking. I mention that I'm going to be taking a trip to Vegas soon, and then we start exchanging Vegas stories. I tell him the first time I went to Vegas I went for my friend's bachelor party. Bachelorette party he asks? No, bachelor party I say. Were you the stripper? he asks a little too seriously. Um, no, I have a lot of close guy friends and I was invited to the bachelor party. There were no strippers tagging along with our party. It was a bunch of guys I was very good friends with and it was a great time. I guess I should be flattered he thought I looked sexy enough to be a stripper? He asked then asked me what I did when the hookers got there. Hookers? No hookers at my friend's bachelor party. Everything was so nice up until that moment, I figured it was ok to disregard his odd comment or not-funny joke.
Now I am not a boastful person, but I do know that people feel really comfortable talking with me, telling me things they wouldn't normally tell people. I know this. I also know that we'd had a few drinks in us, and most people tend to have a little looser lips after knockin' back a few. But nothing would have prepared me for the direction our conversation took.
"Well, whenever I get married, I'm definitely having hookers at my bachelor party." Um, what? I just sat there staring at him. "Oh, not for me, of course. It's just what my friends do. There are always hookers at our bachelor parties." Oh, well as long as the groom isn't having sex with hookers, clearly there's no problem. NOT. Hello!?! Does he not just realize he's now unofficially told me he's been with hookers?! Well good luck ever getting my pants now mister. If you touched a hooker, I can safely say you aren't going to be touching me.
So after he's said this, I'm still just staring at him. Apparently to him, that means he should keep talking. "Yeah, and this one time about 12 years ago, I missed my friend's bachelor party in Vegas because I had to work. It was about 13 of my friends and they got this thousand dollar hooker. They took her up to the hotel room, put her in the middle of the room, and then they all peed on her at the same time. God, I can't believe I missed that!"
...
Really? Really? Did you just tell me that not only did people you consider to be friends get a hooker, they put said hooker in the middle of a circle, peed on her at the same time?? In addition you're saying that now, 12 years later, you are STILL upset you didn't get to join in the festivities? Holy. Ever-loving. Crap. What would ever ever ever make someone think this is information that needed to be divulged on a second date? Or a third or fourth, or EVER?? I can guaran-fuckin-tee that no self-respecting woman wants to hear that story from a man she's dating ever. I don't even know alot of guys who'd be like, "Yeah man. That sounds awesome." That's maybe one of those stories you keep to yourself. Call me crazy.
So I'm still just staring at him. As far as I can tell, he really really really has no idea this story is weird and it's made me uncomfortable. He then says, "What about you?" What about me!? ... Seriously? All I could say was "No, I don't really have any hooker and/or peeing stories. Oh, and fake yawn noise, it's getting late, please take me home." If only I hadn't broken rule number two, and then I could have gotten out then and there! Instead we had a very quiet ride home. When we got to my place, I got out of the car as quickly as I could, not giving him time to get out and open the car door for me. He asked as I was trying to close the car door more or less in his face as he leaned over, "Can I call you later?" I wish I had the presence of mind to say something witty back to him like, "No, I'm not a fan of golden showers, so this probably won't work out," or "I'm really a busy lady of the night, and I'm not accepting new clients," but it was real life and I wasn't that quick, so I just stared at him a little more with the are-you-effing-kidding-me look on my face, and then just closed the door with no comment. Good riddance and good luck on all your future dates buddy.
Monday, March 8, 2010
Story 2: Dodging at Dodger Stadium
A friend of mine had 6 killer tickets to a Dodgers game. She and her boyfriend got two, two more to another couple we were friends with, and then two for...well, me. No boyfriend at the time, and I was really good friends with everyone going, so I didn't feel obligated to find a date, but the option was there if I found someone I wanted to bring.
The night before the game I was out with my girls at a bar, and I met this guy. He was sweet, actually listened to me when I spoke, not too clingy, quite nice! Did I mention he happened to be wearing a Dodgers hat? Well isn't that perfect! I started thinking about inviting him to the game, but I knew it would go against some of my personal guidelines. I date enough I have general rules for dating. Maybe now's a good time to quickly go over some of those:
1) Always meet for at least the first two dates. I want an out if I need it, and you never know which guys have stalking tendencies. I don't need creepy dudes knowing where I live.
2) No dates that make me stuck in any one place for more than 3 hours. If you don't understand that one, then you've never been in a car with someone you don't like for hours on end and you literally can't do anything about it.
There are more personal dating guidelines I follow, but these two apply to my errors in this story, so we can address the others later.
Anyway, back to Dodger McGee. I decide to invite him to the game with me. We discuss schedules and it works out best for me to pick him up from his place after I'm done with work. I happen to be a big baseball fan and the tickets we have a super sweet, so we went before the other two couples because I really want to see batting practice. So now in one foul swoop I've broken my first two rules. Who cares! He seemed so nice and funny and sweet and he really "got me" so what's the harm? It'll be fine. And I get to watch batting practice with someone else who loves watching baseball, so we're all good!
The next day, I get to his house and I think, oooh, a house in LA! No one has a house in LA! Well played, having me come here and see the swanky digs. I call him from his driveway to let him know I'm here, and he comes outside followed by a lady probably in her early 60s. Not exaggerating at all, she literally kissed him on the cheek and patted his head. Um, ok. He gets in the car and I ask him if his mom is visiting. Nope, he lives with his parents. He then starts listing the awesome reasons he still lives with them like how he doesn't have to do laundry or cook. Well isn't that fab. Now I'm thinking, ok, maybe I won't be dating this guy, but at least I have someone to watch baseball with. For the rest of the car ride, conversation is awkward, but I somehow get through it.
We get to the stadium and as soon as we get out of the car, he pulls me in close as we start walking. I'm 6'1", so it's really not the easiest thing in the world for someone to walk with their arm around my waist, but by god, Dodger McGee was determined to make it work. I'm not the most touchy-feely girl in the world, so I keep trying to get out of it, but no dice. Sigh.
We go inside, get our beers and sit down. The seats are amazing! It was so cool to see everyone up close and watch them just swinging away just as the sun was setting. We were right in front of first base, and it was so great just seeing the players enjoying the sport before the actual competition, and I recommend it to anyone who likes watching baseball. As it turns out, Dodger McGee was clearly a poser and had zero interest in the game. He was sitting to the right of me, and just kept rambling about nothing at all. I can't even tell you what he was saying, mostly because I wasn't paying attention. I just kept my eye on whoever was at bat. Whenever I did turn my attention back to him, he'd scare the bugeezus out of me because he'd be all up in my face thinking he was being sexy and creating sexual tension, but it turns out he only generated normal tension. After about an hour, I got a call from my friends, and it turned out that the six tickets were in groups of two no where near each other. Two behind home plate, two down the third base line, and us at first base. Now I know I'm alone for the night, and worse yet, he knows we're alone. I guess this was the starting flag for him to think we get to make out all game long. As if he wasn't man-handling me enough before, he has now managed to put his arm around me far enough that his hand that should be on my shoulder is now somehow trying to cup my boob. How is that even possible? I kept brushing him away and while I was distracted with that, he kept trying to hold on to my inter thigh with his other hand. Every time I turned to face him, he'd try to kiss me. It was the awkward leaning-in-with-his-mouth-open-and-tongue-twitching-inside-his-open-mouth kind of kiss attempt. I'm surprised I didn't get drooled on. He seemed to think all of my moving his hands and leaning away from kisses was just me playing hard to get, so I finally just told him there were so many kids around and this was inappropriate. He backed off a little, but it was still a constant battle.
As if all of this wasn't enough, he then started talking with the random couple sitting next to us. Thank god! He's talking to someone else! I can finally watch some of the game! After a few minutes I start listening back in to their conversation, and I overhear the following: "Oh, these are your season ticket seats? That's great! You've been married for years and you come to every game? How sweet!" Ok, that's harmless convo. I give my attention back to the game. Then I hear, "Oh no, this is just our first date, but I can tell there will be MANY more to come. Maybe we should make this an annual thing and the four of us can come to the same game in the same seats all together every year!" Ok, no longer harmless. I look over and this couple is visibly as uncomfortable as I'm feeling. They also clearly want to be watching the game and are well aware I'm not feeling this amazing connection he feels.
At this point, it's the bottom of the 6th. They haven't even stopped selling alcohol yet. I'm in effing awesome seats, and the game was tied. I weighed out the pros and cons. Those were my only pros and I couldn't enjoy a one of them. Ok, time to go.
I fake yawn and tell him I have to get to work early in the morning and I'm really sleepy. I thought I could make it the whole game, but wouldn't you know it, I was just too tired. In the car ride home, he continued to ramble. Ramble ramble ramble. I let him go. Do your thing man. Whenever there was a lul, I'd ask what's the best exit to take to get to his house. His answer? Well, you can take any of the next three exits, but maybe we should go hang out at your place. Um, what? Did you think we left the game early so you could get some? I tell him I'm taking him home. "Are you sure? I would love to see where you live!" I bet you would. No. Taking you home. "I don't mind staying up later. We should really go to your place." I reminded him that I was the one who was tired and I did mind staying up later. His response? "Well we can't hook up at my parents' house because they're probably still awake." I tell him that isn't an issue. I'm taking you home.
I should have told him right then an there that I wasn't interested and please don't call, but I felt bad. I thought I'd shunned him, blocked him, and avoided contact as much as humanly possible that night and I didn't need to rub in how I felt by bold faced saying, "If you didn't get it by my behavior, I don't like you," so he got out of the car and I figured that was the end of it. Dodger McGee then continued to call me twice a week for the next two months. So ladies, and as far as I know this applies to gentlemen as well, no matter how clear you think you're being, and/or how hard you think it is, just tell the person you don't want to see them again. Then you won't have to do what I did which is put "Ick" at the front of their name in your address book so when they call you know right away it's a weirdo and you don't want to answer that call.
The night before the game I was out with my girls at a bar, and I met this guy. He was sweet, actually listened to me when I spoke, not too clingy, quite nice! Did I mention he happened to be wearing a Dodgers hat? Well isn't that perfect! I started thinking about inviting him to the game, but I knew it would go against some of my personal guidelines. I date enough I have general rules for dating. Maybe now's a good time to quickly go over some of those:
1) Always meet for at least the first two dates. I want an out if I need it, and you never know which guys have stalking tendencies. I don't need creepy dudes knowing where I live.
2) No dates that make me stuck in any one place for more than 3 hours. If you don't understand that one, then you've never been in a car with someone you don't like for hours on end and you literally can't do anything about it.
There are more personal dating guidelines I follow, but these two apply to my errors in this story, so we can address the others later.
Anyway, back to Dodger McGee. I decide to invite him to the game with me. We discuss schedules and it works out best for me to pick him up from his place after I'm done with work. I happen to be a big baseball fan and the tickets we have a super sweet, so we went before the other two couples because I really want to see batting practice. So now in one foul swoop I've broken my first two rules. Who cares! He seemed so nice and funny and sweet and he really "got me" so what's the harm? It'll be fine. And I get to watch batting practice with someone else who loves watching baseball, so we're all good!
The next day, I get to his house and I think, oooh, a house in LA! No one has a house in LA! Well played, having me come here and see the swanky digs. I call him from his driveway to let him know I'm here, and he comes outside followed by a lady probably in her early 60s. Not exaggerating at all, she literally kissed him on the cheek and patted his head. Um, ok. He gets in the car and I ask him if his mom is visiting. Nope, he lives with his parents. He then starts listing the awesome reasons he still lives with them like how he doesn't have to do laundry or cook. Well isn't that fab. Now I'm thinking, ok, maybe I won't be dating this guy, but at least I have someone to watch baseball with. For the rest of the car ride, conversation is awkward, but I somehow get through it.
We get to the stadium and as soon as we get out of the car, he pulls me in close as we start walking. I'm 6'1", so it's really not the easiest thing in the world for someone to walk with their arm around my waist, but by god, Dodger McGee was determined to make it work. I'm not the most touchy-feely girl in the world, so I keep trying to get out of it, but no dice. Sigh.
We go inside, get our beers and sit down. The seats are amazing! It was so cool to see everyone up close and watch them just swinging away just as the sun was setting. We were right in front of first base, and it was so great just seeing the players enjoying the sport before the actual competition, and I recommend it to anyone who likes watching baseball. As it turns out, Dodger McGee was clearly a poser and had zero interest in the game. He was sitting to the right of me, and just kept rambling about nothing at all. I can't even tell you what he was saying, mostly because I wasn't paying attention. I just kept my eye on whoever was at bat. Whenever I did turn my attention back to him, he'd scare the bugeezus out of me because he'd be all up in my face thinking he was being sexy and creating sexual tension, but it turns out he only generated normal tension. After about an hour, I got a call from my friends, and it turned out that the six tickets were in groups of two no where near each other. Two behind home plate, two down the third base line, and us at first base. Now I know I'm alone for the night, and worse yet, he knows we're alone. I guess this was the starting flag for him to think we get to make out all game long. As if he wasn't man-handling me enough before, he has now managed to put his arm around me far enough that his hand that should be on my shoulder is now somehow trying to cup my boob. How is that even possible? I kept brushing him away and while I was distracted with that, he kept trying to hold on to my inter thigh with his other hand. Every time I turned to face him, he'd try to kiss me. It was the awkward leaning-in-with-his-mouth-open-and-tongue-twitching-inside-his-open-mouth kind of kiss attempt. I'm surprised I didn't get drooled on. He seemed to think all of my moving his hands and leaning away from kisses was just me playing hard to get, so I finally just told him there were so many kids around and this was inappropriate. He backed off a little, but it was still a constant battle.
As if all of this wasn't enough, he then started talking with the random couple sitting next to us. Thank god! He's talking to someone else! I can finally watch some of the game! After a few minutes I start listening back in to their conversation, and I overhear the following: "Oh, these are your season ticket seats? That's great! You've been married for years and you come to every game? How sweet!" Ok, that's harmless convo. I give my attention back to the game. Then I hear, "Oh no, this is just our first date, but I can tell there will be MANY more to come. Maybe we should make this an annual thing and the four of us can come to the same game in the same seats all together every year!" Ok, no longer harmless. I look over and this couple is visibly as uncomfortable as I'm feeling. They also clearly want to be watching the game and are well aware I'm not feeling this amazing connection he feels.
At this point, it's the bottom of the 6th. They haven't even stopped selling alcohol yet. I'm in effing awesome seats, and the game was tied. I weighed out the pros and cons. Those were my only pros and I couldn't enjoy a one of them. Ok, time to go.
I fake yawn and tell him I have to get to work early in the morning and I'm really sleepy. I thought I could make it the whole game, but wouldn't you know it, I was just too tired. In the car ride home, he continued to ramble. Ramble ramble ramble. I let him go. Do your thing man. Whenever there was a lul, I'd ask what's the best exit to take to get to his house. His answer? Well, you can take any of the next three exits, but maybe we should go hang out at your place. Um, what? Did you think we left the game early so you could get some? I tell him I'm taking him home. "Are you sure? I would love to see where you live!" I bet you would. No. Taking you home. "I don't mind staying up later. We should really go to your place." I reminded him that I was the one who was tired and I did mind staying up later. His response? "Well we can't hook up at my parents' house because they're probably still awake." I tell him that isn't an issue. I'm taking you home.
I should have told him right then an there that I wasn't interested and please don't call, but I felt bad. I thought I'd shunned him, blocked him, and avoided contact as much as humanly possible that night and I didn't need to rub in how I felt by bold faced saying, "If you didn't get it by my behavior, I don't like you," so he got out of the car and I figured that was the end of it. Dodger McGee then continued to call me twice a week for the next two months. So ladies, and as far as I know this applies to gentlemen as well, no matter how clear you think you're being, and/or how hard you think it is, just tell the person you don't want to see them again. Then you won't have to do what I did which is put "Ick" at the front of their name in your address book so when they call you know right away it's a weirdo and you don't want to answer that call.
Tuesday, March 2, 2010
At Long Last!
People date. That's how we get to find someone we can connect with, right? First, second, third dates; this is how we put our best foot forward. We try to show our date the best possible version of ourselves, and in turn, we expect the same from the people we date.
Or maybe that's just me.
I have been on more than my fair share of dates, and it turns out I have a very special knack for finding...a special kind of date. Or maybe I just have a beacon hiding somewhere on my person that guides these weirdos directly to me. Maybe it's like a dog whistle, but instead of something only dogs can hear, it's something only douche bags can hear. Couldn't tell you what the deal is, but what I can do is tell you the stories. I hope you enjoy the stories as much as I did not enjoy living through them. Rest assured, I did somehow actually live through each and every one of these. The names will be changed to protect the D. bags from themselves, but also because I don't always remember their names. Hey, if they were worth it, they wouldn't be one of these stories, now would they!
Story One: Dipping Your Pen in the Company Ink
I worked in an office environment with all ladies. We loved 3pm because that was the time the mail got dropped off. I know what you're thinking: what an awesome job you have since the highlight of the day is when the mail comes. I know. Be jealous. Back to the story. So the reason we would get excited is if there were any large packages, the cute man would have to come drop them off rather than the tiny girl who carried the envelopes. After a few months of ogling the man we had so nicknamed, "The Large Package Guy," my coworkers convinced me to ask him out. To my complete surprise, he said he had been trying to ask me out for weeks! Happy Day! He says he would love to take me to dinner, and I, of course, agree. He would like to call me Saturday so he has time to figure out where he wants to take me. Lovely! Needless to say, I was on cloud nine.
Saturday comes, and I get the call I've been so excited to get. He says he's been looking forward to this all we. Me too! He asks if we're still on for dinner, and I say absolutely. He then tells me he was thinking of going somewhere fancy, and asks me if I've been to the Chili's in the neighborhood. Um, I'm not a snob or anything, but if you say fancy and then you say Chili's, well, it gave me pause. He then asks me where I live, I tell him, and he tells me that's good because I live really close to the Chili's so he doesn't have to pick me up. Interesting. I prefer not to let guys pick me up on first dates anyway because if it all goes to hell, I want to be able to get out of there asap, but it's weird that he just really didn't want to pick me up.
So we meet at Chili's. He's late, which is a big check on the con side of a list for me, but we go sit down for dinner. At this point, he starts talking and doesn't stop, even when there's food in his mouth. He starts telling me how he's so glad he found me because he really hates going out and doing thing that don't involve him sitting on his couch, playing video games, and oddly enough, it's really hard to meet girls in his living room. He tells me how he had a girlfriend, but she was Mexican and a whore and he should have known she was a whore because she was Mexican, as all Mexicans are whores. I happen to look up as he's slandering the Latino culture in general to notice the hostess, who happens to be about 15 feet away from our table, oh, and Latina, burning a hole in the back of his head with her death stare. Awesome. I try to deter him from this subject since I'm now scared of spit in our food and drinks, both of which Large Package Guy is ordering in abundance, and then he asks me if I've ever cheated on a boyfriend before. And I quote, "I just wanna know because I am so over dating whores." This guy apparently subscribed to the theory that you should say "whore" as much as humanly possible on a first date. I don't recommend this strategy.
Finally we get the bill. Thank God, the night is almost over. I'm pretty sure most of the staff wanted him out of the place too, because they couldn't bring our check fast enough. They set it down, and I was full well planning on paying my half. I want to make sure this guy knows I don't owe him shit. As I'm taking money out of my wallet, he starts patting his shirt pockets and then his pants pockets (not very convincingly, btw), and then gives an over dramatic sigh and tells me he left his wallet on the kitchen counter. Killer. That's what I wanted to do. Pay for his 5 drinks, appetizer, meal, and dessert. Life is totally awesome right now. What's that? Don't worry? You'll pay for our next date? Yeah, why don't you hold your breath and wait for that to happen.
I pay the bill and when we're leaving, he tells me the least he can do is walk me to my car. I told him the least he could have done was to have brought his wallet, so walking me to my car wouldn't be necessary.
From then on, for some odd reason, it was the tiny girl who brought our packages at 3pm. They got her a cart though, so that was nice.
Or maybe that's just me.
I have been on more than my fair share of dates, and it turns out I have a very special knack for finding...a special kind of date. Or maybe I just have a beacon hiding somewhere on my person that guides these weirdos directly to me. Maybe it's like a dog whistle, but instead of something only dogs can hear, it's something only douche bags can hear. Couldn't tell you what the deal is, but what I can do is tell you the stories. I hope you enjoy the stories as much as I did not enjoy living through them. Rest assured, I did somehow actually live through each and every one of these. The names will be changed to protect the D. bags from themselves, but also because I don't always remember their names. Hey, if they were worth it, they wouldn't be one of these stories, now would they!
Story One: Dipping Your Pen in the Company Ink
I worked in an office environment with all ladies. We loved 3pm because that was the time the mail got dropped off. I know what you're thinking: what an awesome job you have since the highlight of the day is when the mail comes. I know. Be jealous. Back to the story. So the reason we would get excited is if there were any large packages, the cute man would have to come drop them off rather than the tiny girl who carried the envelopes. After a few months of ogling the man we had so nicknamed, "The Large Package Guy," my coworkers convinced me to ask him out. To my complete surprise, he said he had been trying to ask me out for weeks! Happy Day! He says he would love to take me to dinner, and I, of course, agree. He would like to call me Saturday so he has time to figure out where he wants to take me. Lovely! Needless to say, I was on cloud nine.
Saturday comes, and I get the call I've been so excited to get. He says he's been looking forward to this all we. Me too! He asks if we're still on for dinner, and I say absolutely. He then tells me he was thinking of going somewhere fancy, and asks me if I've been to the Chili's in the neighborhood. Um, I'm not a snob or anything, but if you say fancy and then you say Chili's, well, it gave me pause. He then asks me where I live, I tell him, and he tells me that's good because I live really close to the Chili's so he doesn't have to pick me up. Interesting. I prefer not to let guys pick me up on first dates anyway because if it all goes to hell, I want to be able to get out of there asap, but it's weird that he just really didn't want to pick me up.
So we meet at Chili's. He's late, which is a big check on the con side of a list for me, but we go sit down for dinner. At this point, he starts talking and doesn't stop, even when there's food in his mouth. He starts telling me how he's so glad he found me because he really hates going out and doing thing that don't involve him sitting on his couch, playing video games, and oddly enough, it's really hard to meet girls in his living room. He tells me how he had a girlfriend, but she was Mexican and a whore and he should have known she was a whore because she was Mexican, as all Mexicans are whores. I happen to look up as he's slandering the Latino culture in general to notice the hostess, who happens to be about 15 feet away from our table, oh, and Latina, burning a hole in the back of his head with her death stare. Awesome. I try to deter him from this subject since I'm now scared of spit in our food and drinks, both of which Large Package Guy is ordering in abundance, and then he asks me if I've ever cheated on a boyfriend before. And I quote, "I just wanna know because I am so over dating whores." This guy apparently subscribed to the theory that you should say "whore" as much as humanly possible on a first date. I don't recommend this strategy.
Finally we get the bill. Thank God, the night is almost over. I'm pretty sure most of the staff wanted him out of the place too, because they couldn't bring our check fast enough. They set it down, and I was full well planning on paying my half. I want to make sure this guy knows I don't owe him shit. As I'm taking money out of my wallet, he starts patting his shirt pockets and then his pants pockets (not very convincingly, btw), and then gives an over dramatic sigh and tells me he left his wallet on the kitchen counter. Killer. That's what I wanted to do. Pay for his 5 drinks, appetizer, meal, and dessert. Life is totally awesome right now. What's that? Don't worry? You'll pay for our next date? Yeah, why don't you hold your breath and wait for that to happen.
I pay the bill and when we're leaving, he tells me the least he can do is walk me to my car. I told him the least he could have done was to have brought his wallet, so walking me to my car wouldn't be necessary.
From then on, for some odd reason, it was the tiny girl who brought our packages at 3pm. They got her a cart though, so that was nice.
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