Tag Archives: dating

Another Lesson in Common Sense: Respect!

17 May

 

“Re-spek it…befoe you re-gret-tit!”

 

About a month ago, I was in line at Starbucks and I overhear this lady turn to her friend and say… “And I told him…you better respek it…befoe you re-gret-tit.” Her enunciation, the emphasis of each phrase…I was both seriously amused and on her side from that moment on.

And why not? Clearly, she was right.

Whomever it was, should respect the proverbial “it” or they are bound to regret it. My friend and I were discussing our most recent situations, and what seems to happen to us as women when we enter into a new experience. Last night on the phone, I said, “You know…it’s not that we’re dumb girls. I actually like to pride myself on being relatively smart about most situations. Yet, as I relay the series of events to you…it dawns on me, that I am the champion of the ‘Bad Decision Olympics.’ Gold medal champion, to be specific…and you my friend are the runner-up.”

Our stories:

(Hers first, and let’s call her Jen)

Jen was a college roommate of mine, completely by accident. Someone whom I was introduced to and we just gelled. After college, I moved home, she moved to ATL and now to D.C. Our exteriors appear similarly rough, we come off impervious to pain that relationships with others may cause even though if you break through our façade of an exterior, you’d see our interior is really marshmallow goo. The past few relationships for Jen have been men who are between their 40’s and 50’s. She’s 27. Clearly, not ok and we’ve had a conversation about that.

For someone her age, the maximum without being creepy is around 35-37. No more than 10 years apart, or it’s seriously too large of a generational gap and just plain gross…to be honest. This new guy, he’s our age…which was a good start, until, she starts divulging the rest of the story…

1. He works with her.

2. He’s her superior (one of them).

3. He has a girlfriend.

4. His girlfriend WORKS at the restaurant.

5. He’s a known, arrogant douche.

6. Please see numbers 1-5 and repeat until the obvious question of, “WHAT is she doing?” washes over you.

As soon as she told me that, I became Homer Simpson, slapping my forehead with a resounding… “D’OH!”

One step forward, six steps back.

So the story continues, and I won’t lie…at points, this sounds kind of sexy. He’s a wine sommelier; they work at an important upscale Washington, D.C. restaurant. Each shift they work together, they give each other flirty stares, do things to entice the other…and then when everyone goes home for the day, they act on those passions in the back room while people could be around. Sounds like a fiction based romance novel a little, no?

I told her…just as Eleanor Roosevelt once said (Wu-Tang Clan maybe?) you have to “protect ya neck!”

Something happens to women when they start a new relationship, and maybe to be fair to men…the sensitive ones may feel this too. It’s like we put these huge blinders on and get all gaga, seeing nothing but rainbows and sunshine pouring out of these people’s rear ends! We regret to see that this is doomed from the get-go.

We can reform, we can remold…we can rebuild, we have the technology!

People…let me give you a piece of advice (I never follow, clearly or I wouldn’t be telling you my story). No one changes. They may modify themselves, tweak something here and there…but overall, people do not change. Find someone who likes/love you as you are and likewise, because everyone deserves to feel as loved as possible as often as possible! SO…one night, they’re having relations in the office and someone finds them. Shocking. Jen also recently broke her finger, and is unable to work, which means she has been home. Where has Mr. Romantic been? M.I.A. Why? Because…he has gotten what he wanted, they’ve fleshed out their physical attraction while he’s been able to keep his girlfriend, his life, and his job…barely.

I love talking to Jen about our situations, because we’re both so incredibly hypocritical. We KNOW that these situations aren’t going anywhere, know they are doomed and yet we forge on. Why is that?

My situation is less severe, and could seriously take its own post to describe what’s been going on. Basically, I met someone in a strange way, that I was not anticipating liking.

1. He’s older, near the borderline of too old, but nothing crazy.

2. He lives far from here, well…40 miles. Not that far.

3. I think he may live some sort of strange double life.

4. People who are mutual friends say terrible things about him.

5. He never follows through Ever.

Although anyone who knows me would think, “you wouldn’t stand for that!” Something about the aggravation of proving that “you should be loving me, following through and being awesome,” keeps me standing by. The whole point of this (it’s there, somewhere), is that respect isn’t something you should have to beg for. I think what happens, is that people forget that the people THEY are dealing with are also…people. Treat me kind, speak to me properly, and think about how you would feel if I treated you like a pig for having a girlfriend and trying to hit it with me. Or, how I SHOULD have treated you like a creepy old man who found me in a strange way, who hasn’t taken me on one respectable date, and who was so worried about my age and me being immature, yet it appears the other way around.

RESPECT the people in your life. RESPECT who they are and where they come from, or respect them enough to at least tell them the truth. Show a little honesty, be upfront and let them decide if they can handle it and be a part of it. Life can be a very lonely journey alone, and as the very wise woman said…if you don’t respect “it,” you may live to regret it.

M&M: A Therapeutic Story

17 May

 

 

I’ve decided to join a Jewish monastery.

OH, they don’t exist you say?  Well then I’m going to create one, dedicate myself to Moses…you know, the works! Tack that on to my list of “things to do.” If the experiences I’ve had up until this point have not given you reason enough to believe me, I’d like to present you with yet another experience: M&M (*All names changed)

M&M seemed awesome “on paper.” With eloquent communication laced with humor and ingenuity, not to mention a weird love for Will Ferrell that not everyone can always appreciate, M&M appeared to be my kind of guy.

When we talked for a bit, his emails were full of wit and flattery, even the title’s had  personality! After finding out that I’m getting my Masters, the title’s became: Ally, Master of Kickassery…which anyone who knows me knows that I ate that up…with a spoon… a big ladle, in fact.

He’s cute, with great teeth and curly hair, which I go gaga for. Perhaps I’m biased, who knows. He is precious in a baby-faced kind of way that you start to think wow, you can’t be 31! But then you get closer and realize oh yeah…it’s possible. Now anyone that knows me, also knows that I never choose boyfriends through what they look like. My type is often referred to as lagoon creatures and as my one friend put it recently…swamp monkeys.  It’s always about the connection. Usually the quickest way to speak to my heart is laugh at my jokes. Laugh hard and seem sincere. I love that. But this seemed like maybe…just maybe…I was in the presence of a mythical unicorn.

Side Note: My friends and I define the “man of our dreams” as a mythical unicorn. It’s something we’ve heard a lot about, but cannot seem to find, no matter how many people claim to have empirical evidence they exist.

M&M is talking about Nirvana and The Toadies…we’re having this fabulous night. Out of nowhere this older man with way to many Backstreet Boy highlights steps over to chat with us. He explains he’s here with his ex-wife, who’s “hot, right?” But she’s having problems with her 21 year old boyfriend…mainly because she’s 45.  On the other hand, this guys  girlfriend works at the fire station with him (clearly by now you’ve realized they’re fire…people? Sorry for leaving that out).

Raul is his name, and he and his 22-year-old girlfriend are in love. They make porno together and discuss all things fire, integrating fire into foreplay if they get the chance.  M&M is a government worker, so Raul becomes an automatic “bro”, engaging him in conversation, laughing, making jokes and crank calling government officials. He keeps looking over at me, going “ M&M…bro this girl….is a cool chick. I can just tell. A badass, cute, cool chick.” I’m like…thank you Raul, so nice of you to say, etc…

Pretty soon M&M leaves to go to the bathroom and I’m left alone with Raul who leans over to me and  says, ”You going home with him tonight?”

“No,” I reply, trying to avert my eyes and give him the hint I’m not interested in pursuing this conversation any longer. “Oh C’mon…go home with him…ride him a little. What would it hurt?”

All I’m thinking is…of course this would happen. Why not? If I didn’t have bad luck with dating, I wouldn’t date at all.

At that moment, Raul leans over and says…”You know, if you weren’t going home with M&M tonight, you’d be going home with me.” I whipped around, looked him dead in the eye and said…”You know Raul…I think I’m a bit too old for you.  I’m 25 after-all…Plus, I can’t film any porno’s… anymore…without a donkey, three chimps and a dominatrix present. Sorry.”

M&M sauntered back into the bar and at this point I’m ready to go.

He can pick up on the weird look I’m giving him, mainly because I have a terrible poker face…and I’m trying my best to subtly give him the let’s kindly get the fuck out of here now look.

Long story short..er (than what I’d normal give you, which is the painful play by play), we leave and head somewhere else. At this point he divulges he had 8 cats at one time, now he has 3. If that’s not weird enough at 31 to have 8 cats…I could keep going. While at the bar, he mentions to me…you know, your last name doesn’t sound very Jewish. I mention that it’s actually my middle name that is my “family” name with the Romanian/Jewish background. Upon hearing my middle name he pauses for a second…like something clicked with him….which I would never have thought twice about…..until this moment…..

After our date I decided I wasn’t into it. So I started ignoring phone calls and trying not to get too involved. A week or so later, I get a text…he’s had a hard day and needs to talk to someone. Being an idiot, I cave and say alright, tell me what happened and lets see if we can find a solution. He thanks me, tells me he feels much better and while he’s in a sharing mood….he has something to tell me.

Him: “Do you want to know a secret?”

Me: “Uhm….sure?”

Him: “No really, do you want to know?”

I’m getting irritated.

Me: “YES…just tell me!”

Him: “Jody Finkle knows a lot about me”

At this point some things are starting to come together…Jodie Finkle is my Aunt,  who is a Psychiatrist.

Me: “JODIE FINKLE? I don’t remember telling you my aunts name…”

Him: “You didn’t.”

Turns out, he was one of my Aunt’s clients…fabulous.

Anyone ready to start that monastery?

No?

Well, how about this:  M&M II, the reckoning

When my interest in M&M began to dissipate, I began to pull away, as most people do. I always wondered what could have been between he and I, had things of gone differently, and thought maybe I had been to hard on M&M. Too judgmental. So what he goes to therapy, who doesn’t? At least he was willing to confront the issues he’s facing, the walls he’s placed around himself and try to get a grip on reality, right?

My mom would say, “How weird would it be for him to come to a family gathering, knowing full well your Aunt knows everything there is to know about him?

Admittedly? Super weird. SO when I heard from M&M a few months ago, I was a little surprised to find myself a little curious to see why he was brought back into my life. At the very least, I’d have another winning story…and at the most? Well, sky was the limit.

Email number one:

“Dear Ally, Master of Kickassery,

Are you still kicking ass and being awesome? Have you forgtton me, moved to NY and become famous? If not…I’d love to talk to you, as I’m not sure what ever really happened and I think about it a lot. It’d be great to see that hair, and that smile. So tell me…How does one become a Master of Kickassery himself, or at the very least…take one to dinner.

Hope to talk soon,

M&M”

Alright, that’s a pretty damn good email, am I right!?

So I cave…we chat, try to start again and see if maybe we DID have something…DO have something. The issue was, he was going to China for two weeks. No real explanation why at first, but he was leaving in two days and HAD TO SEE ME IMMEDIATELY.

NO,” I tell him. “We’ve waited this long to see each other, don’t worry about it. We’ll chat, email, whatever until you get back and then we’ll do things again, from the beginning…the right way.”

He leaves for two weeks. Over the next two weeks, I get emails of half his head in front of monuments, weird foods, fun stuff…anything. By the time he returns, he’s been cultivating our meeting for nearly three weeks now.

When he returns, he wants to see me immediately but I had plans with a friend, so I invite him to join us at the movies. He’s polite, generous…all things are a go.

In the movie, he starts getting…touchy. It’s not like the previous post about “Dan” from the movie theater. This is more like a nervous touch. He’s rubbing my arms, his palm intertwined with mine…hot and wet.

After the movie, my friend and her boyfriend leave and we go to get a drink. I thought…things are good. He is good. We’ll have no trouble alone. Now may be a great time to mention that the first time around, I did see him more than one time. Things also happened that indicated he and I wouldn’t be a great match…in some areas…I hope you’re following this, because I feel too guilty to write it out. Regardless of what happened, I’m wiling to see if maybe it will head that way again down the road and maybe things will be fine. I’m enjoying myself and just want to focus on that.

He walks me to my car, kisses me like a Saint Bernard who rubs his big watery jowls on your leg as he brushes by and says, “I’m so glad we did this. I wasn’t sure what happened, if maybe I came on too strong…or geez, I don’t know. I thought you weren’t calling me because maybe I have a small penis…or something!”

It took him 3 weeks to cultivate something he ruined in 3 hours…the good news is, I know someone who can talk him through it!

Tales Of Set Up Failure: Lingerie Loungin’

16 May

Who Wants to Get a Little Sexy?

 

 

About a year or so ago, my (ex) boyfriend and I broke up and I had to move from my…well…his apartment.  From there, the changes kept on coming! I had to momentarily leave my dog behind, since he’s not allowed in my roommate’s house, and oh yeah! By roommate….I mean my mother.

It should be relatively easy to understand why it would have taken me a little bit of time to get over the breakup. At the very least, more than a week. My friends are wonderful but do not listen, and insisted that I trudge forward.

One night about a week after everything came to a halt,  (let’s call her) Gina decides that I should meet her friend and I immediately refuse. Not only am I far from ready, but I haven’t even SPOKEN to this “friend.” She tells me it’s too bad, he has seen my picture, has my number and is going to use it.

Great. I figure, fine…what’s the worst that can happen? Wrong question to ask, every time!

::ring ring::

A number I don’t know…what’s his name? Adam? Matt? Whatever, something generic.

“Hey you,” I hear on the other end of the line.

Can we take a moment and address this? You don’t know me, you’ve never met me nor spoken with me before…so…who exactly are you addressing ME as “you?” While it’s meant to be endearing I guess, it’s absurd and rubs me the wrong way. It’s not like we’ve met, or been friends for ten years, etc. Just keep it short guys…  “hey” or a nice throaty “hello” will do juuuuuust fine.

I’m already not amused, not wanting to have this conversation and am waiting to be wowed, or repulsed. Judging from the post I’m writing, I’m sure you can guess where this is headed…

Me: “erhm…hi?”

Mr. Whomever: “I’m (can’t remember), Gina’s friend. And you’re Allyson?”

You just dialed my number, didn’t you!?

Me: “Yep,“ I replied, short and to the point.

Mr. Whomever: “Gina said you’re into Adult Swim…that’s really hot. I bet you’re really kinky, huh?”

Two things wrong with this statement.

Epic Fail #1: Adult Swim is Cartoon Networks late night channel, featuring nothing sexual unless you’re into that anime cartoon weirdo bullshit.

Epic Fail #2: WHAT would possess you to ask someone you just started talking to 30 seconds ago if they’re kinky or not?

Me: “I love Adult Swim, but I don’t think you understand that it’s Car-“(the last piece of toons escapes under my breath as he cuts me off…)

Mr. Whomever: “What’s the most spontaneous thing you’ve ever done?”

::sigh::

Me: “Well…I don’t know, I guess drive from Tallahassee down here at 3am alone. I just woke up one morning and decided I wanted to come home, so I did.”

Mr. Whomever: “That’s it?” he replied.

Me: “Yep, that’s about it.”

He is waiting for me to pony up information, to confide in him, show him I’m interested…I’m not interested.

Mr. Whomever: “My girlfriend and I one time got a couples massage, and we were so turned on when we left we had to pull over and have sex in the bushes off the highway. I guess that’s my most spontaneous act…”

I didn’t even ask.

Mr. Whomever: “OOH! OOH! Actually, we stopped one time at a swingers club. We didn’t participate…but we did watch. Are you into that at all?”

Me: “Not at all, sorry. What are your top three movies? If you had to choose?”

I was searching for an inkling of normalcy.

Mr. Whomever: “My Cousin Vinny, 300 and Goodfellas. Do you like hairy men?”

Me: “Interesting choices…I’m not into gorillas, if that’s what you’re asking.”

At this point, I was ready to have some fun. I had tried to get off the phone twice and short of hanging up on the dude, I figured…great…free…material. It’s now been silent for about a minute before I start to say…

Me: “Ok, well I have to be going now…I’ve got to be at work at 6:30, so early wakeup call!” I figured, an exit line no one can refuse! Hint, hint, hint, HINT!

Mr. Whomever: “So you’re all dressed for bed?”

Me: “Yep.”

In actuality I was still in my work clothes from the day, but thought…let’s do this.

Mr. Whomever: “What are you wearing? I bet you like to sleep in those little nighties”

Me: “Oh for sure! The smaller the better.”

Mr. Whomever: “Anything underneath?”

Me: “Of course not,” I reply, snickering to myself in my brother’s bedroom, anxious to see how far I can push this kid.

A short-breathed sound sort of emerges from his side of the phone like a gasp.

Mr. Whomever: “That’s…so hot. Anything you want to ask me? Anything..? Anything at all, don’t worry.”

I know where he’s going.

 Me: “No, not really. Maybe another time..”

Mr. Whomever: “Are you SURE? Nothing? I’m totally open and willing to answer ANYTHING.” Dripping with suggestive tones, what a shock.

Me: “Well, as shy as you’re being, I’m assuming you want me to ask you what you’re working with. Right? That’s what you want?”

Mr. Whomever: “Go ahead, ask me.”

::sigh::

Me: “Alright…what are you working with…that you’re so proud of”

Mr. Whomever: “HARD?” he blurts out. “About 5…5.5”

Silence.

Mr. Whomever: “Is that bad? Good? Why didn’t you respond?”

Clearly I can’t say, because I’m rolling on the floor in laughter at how absurd you are and that you’re being a thousand percent serious right now?!

So I reply…

::giggle giggle giggle::

When I can collect myself, I politely tell him I really have to be going, and after all of this…he has the audacity to say…

Mr. Whomever: ”So I guess you don’t want to come cuddle?”

Y-I-K-E-S.

ARE YOU SERIOUS???

First, you don’t know me! What if I’m a crazy, soul stealing woman? Secondly, what if I’m diseased? Desperate? Clingy? You don’t know me dude…take some time. Third and finally, if you can listen to all that and take yourself seriously, all the while believing that I’m interested….big yikes buddy…big yikes. Sad state of affairs to see who’s out there, and if you didn’t miss someone a lot prior to that, you do afterwards, tell you that. Thank you to all my friends for wanting me to “get out there,” but uh…do me a solid? NO MORE fix ups!

She’s Just Not That Into You Either…Seriously

16 May

Seriously. We’re not.

 

So a couple of years ago, a jackass “writer” by the name of Greg Behrendt came out with a piece of drivel entitled, “ He’s Just Not That Into You,” which I’m sure 99% of you have heard of and/or read. Why so bitter at Greg? Because I felt as though it was the “idiot girl’s guide to relationships,” and wondered WHAT woman would really need this mega dose of common sense. Then I snapped back to reality, noticing that most women DO in fact need this book. Some of my closest friends suffer from the same afflictions that the women portrayed do, unable to let things go, stalking, making excuses for their boyfriends/hookups/husbands. My personal favorite characteristic is holding on to a relationship that should be treated with the same mentality as a dead limb…cut it off, before the yuck spreads any further.

While the book was awful, I DID see the movie and will confess that I did enjoy it and found I could relate to it a twinge more than the book (for me this is rarely ever the case). It’s a dose of reality for those who would rather deny, deny, deny then own up to what’s really going on. For me, I identify with (I’m sure many of you?) one line in particular, where Justin Long’s character says, “Everyone wants to be the exception to the rule.”

It’s true.

That’s why we date, why we sit near the phone months and years after a relationship (figuratively, not literally) waiting to have that person who pulverized your heart like hamburger meat come back and stand bravely in your face, proclaiming, “Leaving you was the biggest mistake of my life and without you, I’m not whole.”

Doesn’t everyone want that validation? That knowledge that without you these past few weeks, months, years, their lives have been full of suck? The point is, that it’s clearly a very rare situation. Today I want to examine the reverse side of “He’s Just Not That Into You,” as men rarely get labeled as crazy as women or even in the near realm. It’s not a talked about subject and it should be. Just because you come after me and I turn you down does not make me a bitch. Similarly, how you would believe you’re not a jerk, just for the same reason. I’m going to give some of my own experiences and examine what I’ve come in contact with over the years. Can any of you think of other examples, or do any of these ring true for you??

“The Incessant”

First, let’s talk about the technology obsession and what it means when I do not call you back for longer than a week. If you called me on Monday, sent me two texts on Tuesday and an e-mail Wednesday, my skin is most likely crawling with the thought of seeing anything with your name on it come through any facet of communication devices.

Men aren’t like that, you say? False.

Again, I like to be equal opportunity when I “bash,” and can tell you that men are just as bad as women, sometimes worse.

EXAMPLE! (We’ll call him Paul)

BACKGROUND: Paul is a nice guy, who for all intents and purposes seems to be super normal, attractive and well put together. He tells you his story right away. After high school he went to college for half a year, worked for a major cell phone company for four years and was terminated because he’s a “victim of the economy.” Lost his job, lost his apartment and moved in with his family to get on his feet. Two weeks later, he’s in a major accident and his car is totaled. Paul has gone on multiple interviews and hasn’t been able to find a job, hanging out mostly with his seven-year old niece and mom. He’s a yes man and a pleaser, which is easy to tell from the get go, replying to everything I say with a “me too!” or a “that’s so great to hear, I’ve been looking for that for so long!” His idea of a big word was pedantic, and says he’s often told he’s a champion when it comes to vocab. Talking continued a few more times, as to not appear rude until finally, it was time to make it clear that we were ultimately not a match. He would IM 25 times a day, no exaggeration. When I’d respond, I’d be short or wouldn’t respond at all, causing him to text me asking, “Are you online right now? Because it says you are.” From there he’d call, explaining he’s bored, just wanted to say hi, etc. Then finally after explaining that I’m not in a good place, not ready for anything and also not particularly interested, I feel as though he’d got the message.

After dodging him for two weeks, he IM’s me, asking how I am, if things have slowed down and if I’ll go out with him now. I say no, I’m sorry, and he should move on…following the IM was an email, asking me to clarify my decision and a text and phone call telling me he sent me an email. Now, as some of you may know, I’m super open when it comes to dating people and will often times give those a chance that others wouldn’t. I say that, to explain that while he was in a bad place in his life, I may still have stopped to see what he was all about, had he not of blown up my media mediums, even after I expressed NO interest. If you have to call me to tell me you texted me, text me to tell me you emailed me and email me to get me to respond to your IM’s or bizarre line of questioning…SHE IS JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU. Desperation is an ugly stink…and he was bathing in it.

“The Misleader”

This type of delightful gentleman actually gets bundled into another kind of guy whom I’m having trouble naming. I suppose it’s misleading in two ways: one, they portray themselves to be something different in their pictures or actions. Second, they themselves are mislead to believe that they are more fantastic than they really are, which is typically spoon fed early on. These types are both equally annoying, and oftentimes feel justified seeking perfection (which newsflash, does NOT exist) as they themselves feel that they’ve already achieved it. We have to tackle these two different examples of misconception independently.

Type A: I look and act like this, I swear!

Something that tends to happen frequently is when people decide to be someone else to please someone else. Or, they just don’t photograph particularly well, so there are several types of pictures of them to which you’re unsure what they truly look like. OR…OR! You’re fully aware of what you look like, but find pictures that subtly cover what you’re insecure about. EXAMPLE: (We’ll call him Joe). Joe seems like a good guy as well, interested in health and fitness to the extent he recently switched careers to “health promotion,” from what I have no idea as he’s not willing to disclose. He sends me an email, that I’m beautiful and interesting and he would be “honored” (I am not putting words in here, just literally regurgitating it) to chat with me. Honored? Alright…trying too hard…but what the hell, I’ll see what he looks like and what he’s into. There are two pictures of Joe, that are actually the same picture up twice, showcasing Joe sitting at a bar with a hat and sunglasses on drinking a beer. He starts talking to me about how he switched into his new field because “the world is old and fat.”

Hmm…so you must be pretty fit? Pretty active? Health nut? But how am I to be sure? S

o I ask for another picture, one that does not involve the hat or sunglasses and he obliges, telling me that his hair is really short and that he’s not bald. “Okay,” I reply and wait for the message. I’ve got mail…and boy am I shocked to find he is in fact bald in the front and a little heavy. NOW I HAVE NO QUALMS with him being heavy, as I mentioned above (and anyone who knows my dating track record can attest to) I never decide who to date based on looks, as long as there ends up being some sort of physical attraction. Most of the time, I prefer a very tall guy and I could never date a guy who is supermodel thin (it’s just not for me). BUT, when you profess to be a trainer and you profess to be health obsessed and say things like “the world is old and fat,” you better be in perfect shape.

Fail.

Then he proceeds to say, “I bet you don’t want to talk to me anymore…” to which I answer, “Why is that?” although what I’m thinking is, no, I don’t like people who sort of…lie from the get go, no…and he replies, “I’m no Brad Pitt.” Lack of confidence is so sexy, topped off by your general demeanor and outlook on life as well as your…photos that were a little off…we’re done before it begins. If you are negative, lie or create a little “fib,” or lack confidence, OR do not practice what you preach…what happened to “PAUL” above can happen to you. Which it did…but unfortunately, Joe also violated another no-no…do NOT write things when you do not know someone like… “Hey sexy.” It’s revolting, it’s a turn off and it’s yikes worthy. It’s also a sure-fire way for us to not respond, leaving you scratching your bald head wondering why we don’t reply…because, my dear offender…SHE IS JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU.

Type B: I’m awesome, because I say so!

There’s probably been at least one occasion in our dating lives that people have stopped you and been like…what are you thinking? Why date a lagoon create? Why date a heinous bitch? So on, so forth. But for some of us, we give people chances because we believe that they’re unique and special and all that barf worthy stuff. Have you ever encountered someone who you may have known years ago, who liked you, things happen and then suddenly, YOU’RE obsessed? And I don’t mean “you,” but I mean they begin to believe that you’re obsessed with them. Part of you at the time is like, wow, they liked me so long ago and they’re interested and maybe I missed out. So you go out on a limb, because just as you want to be the exception, you figure everyone else does too. Things happen, you think…”Great! I’ve made a good decision to explore past feelings in a mature, adult setting.”

False. FALSE, FALSE, FALSE.

First of all, on a tangent, I’m not sure any mature people even exist and secondly…you can never be too careful. You just can’t. Thinking is a highly dangerous exercise, and acting on your thoughts can be lethal. There was a friend of mine who knew of someone from middle school who was interested in her, and while they hadn’t spoken in many years, he found her and contacted her through some form of social media. “Wow, you are still so beautiful. How are you?!” She apparently had noticed time had been kind to him and he blossomed into a pretty good-looking dude. “You don’t look so bad yourself!” They chatted, he begged her to come visit him and voila! Guess what happened? I trust my readers to be smart, so eh…you know what that means. After the “boom boom pow,”  it was a cute and cuddly morning and lots of appreciation for her coming to see him and being with him, etc. When she returned she tried chatting with him as normal, and (shockingly enough!) he became squeamish, stating that he wasn’t really ready for a relationship.

From what I understand, that’s not what he was saying prior to their hookup, but he’s becoming a singer and couldn’t risk the chances of “blossoming further” and not being able to spread his seed to many more…lucky girls. Her reaction was more of a “get over yourself” attitude, as she was apparently just trying to keep it friendly. What I don’t get is, where someone gets off turning it around. She wasn’t sitting there begging him for a ring, or even a title as boyfriend girlfriend, just wanted to keep it friendly and keep it moving. She says that it was misconstrued, and being the hilarious woman she is, saved and shared the conversations with me. In the beginning, highly interested and then after the “incident,” fell off back into lagoon creature land thinking he’ll make it big as a Hollywood singer and will no longer need her. I suggested, that perhaps it’s because he wanted her so bad in middle school, then got her, then felt it right to be like…”PSYCHE! Gotcha bitch!” Who knows…but frankly, this kid isn’t going to find an Angelina Jolie or Megan Fox…not that he should’ve settled with her ( if he wasn’t happy!) but as crazy as men deem women to be, isn’t it just as crazy to ASSUME that she wanted anything more?

It wasn’t like she was acting like the above men, just trying to be friendly. Where’s the line of crazy drawn? What’s the crazy to friendly ratio and what’s “okay” to contact after a situation and what’s not? AND, who makes these rules?!?!? I’m sure you guys are kind of like, well, that was a slutty thing for her to do. However, did she do anything different then a man would have? She put herself out there thinking that she may have missed a big connection and went for it. I’m proud of her for doing so. If we don’t take risks how do we know? Commendable move, friend!

If we’re trying to be friendly with you and you misconstrue it, finding yourself there going, “WOAH! She wasn’t into me a few years ago, but she SO IS now,” and yet we’re not arguing when you say you don’t want a relationship, but are actually repulsed and irritated on the other end…SHE IS JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU. Deflate your egos and stop “worrying,” about new obsessive “fans,” who are sincerely trying to keep the friends lane wide open. It’s lame. Seriously. What’s better is she ran into him while out in LA on a trip, they met up, and he made out with a friend of hers right in front of her. Did she freak out? No. Did she drink too much and disclose intimate details about him to his friends…yeah maybe…so an element of crazy still lurks there, but that’s another story for another time.

“Sexual Seduction”

This one in particular is both my favorite, and grosses me out. I’ve been really good, because I’ve been sitting on a few really good stories for a long while now, afraid that the same men who threaten me when they see I’m going to post this to my blog, would actually check up on it at the exact moment I upload “our” stories. Sadly, for this one in particular, I do not care. He’s sufficiently freaked me out for YEARS now and I’m pretty sure it’s time to release our lovely banter out into cyber space. We’ll call him…Jonah. Things that are not sexy…For starters, how about when after many years of not speaking, you feel some sort of delight in contact someone to talk dirty. We all know by now how I feel about “badgering” and this is no exception. He’s actually the original badger, believe it or not. Jonah and I go way back…to middle school, where his brother and I were in the same grade and he was a few years older. Luckily for my friends and I, Jonah taught us all we’d need to know about “pleasing” men by describing play by plays in great detail. At the time, we were young and dumb and soaked it all in, keeping his brother our good friend and having to see him every time we went over to hang out.

After he graduated, we didn’t keep in touch. It wasn’t until years later that Facebook played a huge role in reconnecting us. I was still in Tallahassee at the time, and his name popped up on Facebook chat as I was sitting next to my boyfriend at the time. My boyfriend said, “Who’s that?” I said, “Oh, just some guy from high school.” How do you explain any further when he’s really not important? In any case, he wound up getting very sexually explicit with me, so I removed him from my friends and blocked him from my AIM.

Recently, he resurfaced and I thought…it’s been years, what’s the worst that could happen? I should really ban that phrase from my vocabulary, along with other phrases like “it is what it is,” and “prrrrr-etty good.” Jonah and I reconnect and he instantly pops up on my Facebook chat: “Wow, you turned out to be one sexy Jew!” To which I respond, “Oh, hello there…so nice to hear from you. How are you?” We carry on a normal conversation for a while, but he proceeds to ask me some highly offensive, sexual questions. When I ask how his brother is, he scoots right over it, more interested in what landscaping techniques are, etc. Gross stuff, especially when you’ve not spoke in so long.

Somehow, he reversed blocked me on AIM so that I could not block him back. His sexual forwardness continued to grow, and it was not and is not ok. Particularly when you’re just starting to talk to someone again who already has this whacked view of you. So as I said, he reversed blocked, and so when I’d have statuses up like… “Getting ready for a date!” He’d reply like… “Ooh where am I meeting you,” or “wear something that accentuates your…” etc. I never responded and this is actually still continuing on a small level, despite the fact he literally said, “If this is making you uncomfortable or if you don’t want to talk to me anymore, just tell me.”

SO I did…and where do you think that’s gotten me? If you’re being explicit, you should maybe take a hint when the person says she’s not only not interested but is not responsive to your unique advances. If you’re a freaky person and she’s not, if you’re explicit and inappropriate causing her to feel like screaming every time you contact her and you’re wondering why you get no response? It’s as simple as this, SHE IS JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU!

There are all different kinds of people, and everyone has their individual quirks. I suppose when it’s in regards to a typically gender specific topic it just gets me going. There’s no real difference between women and men. They both want what they want: to find the best partner, to be successful, to be loved on whatever level they’re capable of giving and receiving. Men don’t believe me when I tell them I’m relatively drama free, that I abhor conflict and that I’m pretty laid back. Perhaps that’s just my perception, and not reality, as it’s easier for me to be subjective rather than objective but I know I’m not always “fault free” either. No one is innocent, because relationships (friendships included) are (at least) two player games. But the next time you’re wondering why we don’t call, or why we don’t respond to what you say, etc…re-think what your actions may have been to get to that point, and realize…we’re just not that into you.

Dan, Dan, The Wacko Man!

16 May

Ever Feel Surrounded By A Bunch of Clowns?

 

 

Sometimes it  feels as though I am participating in the “Bad Decision Olympics,” where I am the reigning Gold Medalist. I’d like to share another moment in dating hell, with my most recent fail…Dan. (* Just a reminder, all names have been changed).

A while ago, I met Dan. We started talking on the phone and texting nearly every day and although I wasn’t really prepared for anything serious, it was obvious that he wasn’t going anywhere without a fight…which I kind of liked, as it’s been a while since anyone of substance has come along. He is educated, driven, seemed pretty compassionate and genuine, etc. It probably didn’t hurt his case that he has a beautiful upper body and pearly white teeth…just sayin’. After talking to him for a few days, the comments started getting a bit weird…er.

I understand that people are marrying early and we are feeling a bit of societal pressure at 26, (like we’re lepers for not settling down by this point) but I’m never one to just meet someone and say any of the following things:

1. “So, are you going to be my baby?”

2. “I just need you in my life, and I know that…without a doubt.”

3.“I just think you’re a good influence in my life, and you’d be positive to have around.”

Those all seem like very sweet, endearing things for people who’ve been dating a little more than not at all. How can you possibly know that those things will be true without a bit more investigation? Maybe I’ve been hiding a secret identity, and I’ll rip off a body suit to reveal I’m a 350lb lagoon creature.

MAYBE I’m serial killer who loves to kill afflicted men. OR…MAYBE…I’m a code five clinger, who loves to snort coke and likes to dress my cats in funny outfits and film them. My point is, that it’s off putting to hear things like that right off the bat.

Dan and I were going on a date to go see The A-Team. I understand that the movies are kind of a stupid date to choose to go on when you’re still getting to know one another. But I chose the movies for that reason. I felt pressured to see him, because he was SO pushy. After a day at work from 8-5 where people constantly talk your ears off, why would you want to go and have someone talk your ears off for another few hours?

Look, I’m sure if I was “really” interested, it wouldn’t matter. I’d welcome the chatter, getting to know each other and enjoying a flirtatious flutter of the eyes back and forth. Dan wanted to go bowling, go for dinner, go somewhere. “Movies are fine,” I tell him. “I’m bad at bowling, I’ve just had dinner and again..I’m a horrible bowler.” On the way there, I start getting this bad feeling. What’s funny is my friends will tell you that I’m rarely off base with these instincts. They usually manifest themselves through soreness deep in my gut, saying, “hey….hey dumbass…this? This right here…? This is going to end HORRIBLY.”

Clearly, I don’t listen, pulling into the theatre fifteen minutes before it starts. I can see Dan from the car, although he can’t see me. He’s pacing a bit and seems frustrated, but when he sees me a big smile flashes across his face. We hug and he tells me he’s bought the tickets. “He’s not so bad,” I think to myself as we walk towards the theatre.

As we enter, he turns back and says “Goodnight Sophie.” Ehm…? Wherever Sophie is, she’s clearly not responding. “GOODNIGHT SOPHIE,” he says louder and sort of pauses for effect. I look over to see this girl hanging out on the pillar. She seems less than enthralled that he’s speaking to her and has a mild look of discontent and panic. He starts to explain, “Oh! She was waiting on her boyfriend and I was waiting on you, so we kept each other company since it’s a bit sketchy out here.”

We go inside…time to pick the seats… I like to sit near the bar so I can put my feet up and there are no big heads obstructing my view. He doesn’t argue and just asks that we sit in the middle, where these two girls have their feet on the seats. “Don’t worry, they won’t have them there for long,” he replies. I sit down immediately already embarrassed and praying there will be no confrontation…the movie hasn’t even started. “Hey ladies,” he starts. “Now don’t go kicking our chairs during this movie, ya hear me?” The ladies are giggling. They think he’s joking. “Oh don’t worry,” one replies. “I think I broke my toe before we came in here.” “Oh really?” he says, and starts rummaging around in his wallet. He hands them his medical sales card and they coo.  Right when I think we’re in the safe zone, I hear him start telling them… “We’re on a date. So please…don’t kick the chair.”

He sits down and says to me…

Dan: “Did you knock a couple back before you came?”

Me: “I’m sorry…what?” I’m staring at him blankly, like…did you really just ask that?

Dan: “Did you have a couple drinks? I mean hell, that’s what I would do…” (He’s unable to drink).

Me: “No, I didn’t…why, does it seem like I have?”

From there things got really ridiculous and if I sat here and did a full detailed recount, you’d be here for ten pages, guaranteed. I’ll highlight.

Dan: “Don’t take anything I say or do seriously tonight, ok?” Famous last words.

You know that point in the bad situation when you’re like… “uh oh.” While externally I said, “Ehm…okay…?” Internally I was saying, “HOLY SHIT, WAY TO STEP IN A PILE OF  HOT MOLTON CRAZY. GREAT JOB!”

It appears the fact of the matter is, I never learn. Ever. Body language is important on a date. If my legs are crossed away from you, if my arms are folded, my hands are on my purse and I’m intently watching the movie, I have just given you the universal signs of “don’t touch me.” Had I of left my hand out for you to grab, placed my purse in the seat next to you, crossed my legs towards you and leaned over a bit…that means “GO.” The other way means “NO.”

Dan had evidently never heard of that general rule of thumb. I’m sure that the A-Team would’ve been a great movie, but I really didn’t get to spend a lot of time watching it, as I was more concerned that every time Bradley Cooper and Jessica Biel kissed, I’d be attacked. I started dreading the love scenes. Every tacky move that could’ve been made was done. He picked up his cell phone, texted, talked to strangers, was loud and wanted to have a conversation throughout the movie.

BUT most offensive of all was THE BEST MOVE in the history of tacky moves:

“The Quest for Boobtown”

The 2 part quest:

1. He removes his watch methodically, then drops it down my shirt before attempting to FISH IT OUT.

2. He keeps trying to hold my hand but stretches his arm across me so I have to continuously keep moving his hand so he doesn’t rest it on my chest.

At one point he actually tried to lay his head on my chest….when I kept moving his hands and head, he finally turns to me and says, “ why are you so uptight?!”

“I’m not uptight,” I reply calmly, a little shaken up from the shock of his actions. I really can’t remember a time I’ve been more disrespected publicly. Although you say to yourself, “If something like that ever happened to me, I’d punch him in the face,” it changes when it happens to you and you’re in the moment. I thought that had answered the question sufficiently, but then right at a climactic point in the movie he turns to me and raises his voice… “OH LET ME GUESS…YOU’VE BEEN HURT BEFORE, RIGHT? AND NOOOOOOOOOW…I’M PAYING THE PRICE?”

I had nothing to say, mainly because how do you answer that…mid movie, with now the entire theatre no longer paying attention to the movie they’ve paid for, but rather your conversation with a crazy person. At that moment, you can feel the sympathy radiating, hear the women going “poor girl,” and I can feel my jaw clenching, fists tightening and tears trying to fight their way forward. “I’LL TAKE THAT AS A GIANT YES,” he screams. I had enough, but refused to get angry as we’re still in public, and I’m still a lady… of some sort.

Me: “Take it however you want to. Just leave it alone, and leave me alone.”

Dan: “SO…YES,” raising his voice over the climactic moments of A-Team.

Me: “Think whatever you want.”

After that, it was as if he had never snapped. He returned to trying to caress my hand, tell me how into me he was, etc.

Dan: “I’m going to go get a soda, want anything?”

Me: “No.”

He leaves and I text my mom and a friend of mine. I text: “awful. Crazy, crazy, crazy. Just went for a diet coke, hope he doesn’t come back.” But he did. With a large diet coke and large popcorn, both of which he finished then proceeded “release” the popcorn and soda back…out both ends. It felt like a cosmic joke…this kid couldn’t be serious? But he was.

Finally the movie ends and he walks me to my car, which I cannot get into fast enough. Before I even get home he’s called twice and left three texts.  We never spoke after that, and in truth, it  seriously rocked me so much that it took me a minute to get to a point where I could write it down.

But wait, there’s more…

About two months after the ordeal,  I get a friend request from a girl name Sandy. For some reason, I accept her friendship thinking I must know her from somewhere.  Something about her looks weirdly familiar, but I’m not sure I’m not crazy. I let it go and figure if nothing else, she’ll just be one of the other Facebook friends that I have that I don’t “know.” A week ago, I signed on to Facebook and my chat popped up immediately…it was Sandy.

Sandy: “Hey,” she says.

Me: “Hey, do I know you?”

Sandy: “Can I ask you something, and can we keep it just between you and I?”

Me: “Of course,” I reply, thinking…I don’t really know you, so what does it matter? And, you didn’t really answer my question, which would actually be telling of how the rest of the conversation would go.

Sandy: “How do you know Dan Smith? From CL?”

Me: “What’s CL?”

Sandy: “Craigslist,” she replied and my face automatically went into a highly grossed up, perplexed contortion.

Me: “Um no, not from…Craigslist,” I reply trying to suppress the disgust seeping up from my tummy and into my throat.

Sandy: “GREAT,” she says. “That tells me that he’s really out there trying to look for something/someone else.”

And so we spoke about Dan for about 30 minutes. She asked what happened and what my experience was. I tell her bits and pieces, but am still withholding because I’m not sure how she knew to find me on Facebook. Apparently, she met him off of “CL,” and then proceeded to have a plethora of strange experiences with him. He stood her up, she said she toyed with his emotions but eventually felt bad and met up with him. They went back to “his” house and he tried to get her to do stuff but she said she “doesn’t do THAT because it’s trashy.”

She said that it was time to consider not speaking to him, to which I reply he’s been blocked on my end for a while and that in my opinion, he’s not a hundred percent there and she should stop communication. While we’re talking, something occurred to me…the same thing I mentioned above…how on EARTH did she figure out who I was and how did she know how to get a hold of me? While she continues to talk to me, I decide to go to his Facebook page and see if they’re friends. Something just started to feel weird…I know, imagine that.

Turns out they’re not even Facebook friends. Which leads me to believe he clearly told her to contact me and ask why I’d not responded. ANOTHER thing occurs me…she looks EXACTLY like the girl that was at the movies that night, standing on the pillar (SOPHIE…remember?). Turns out, the crazy just keeps getting crazier. By the time I went to ask her how she knew to find me and confront her to see whether or not that was her that night…she disappeared off Facebook entirely.

SCARY, CRAZY and yet…typical.

Nothing Like A Nude…Oops, NEW Relationship!

16 May

You like? I like.

 

I’m 90% sure the sole reason I continue to date is for the continuous stream of free material. Terrible? Maybe. Worse for me to immerse myself in these awkward situations then for you to read them? Let’s hope! I wish I could say I’m dating because I’m interested in starting something again, but anyone who’s been around me for more than five minutes knows that although I’ve recently ended a relationship…a serious one…I’m not particularly ready to eh…date again. So instead I’ve been occupying my time with casual dating in the hopes that one of these delightful gentlemen will surprise me, and I’ll wind up really liking someone by accident.

Recently I wound up chatting with someone who I have had a little bit of genuine interest in. Not only is he educated, in a great place job and life-wise, but he looks a lot like an old crush of mine from middle school. This is about to get disturbing…but I loved that he spoke another language (H-O-T) and that he literally looked like this other guy almost EXACTLY. Perfect fantasy-to-reality love story right there!

So he happens to call me on Sunday, and asks for a last-minute date and I’m super excited, as he’s again…one of the only people I’ve even had any remote interest in for some time. “Sure, I’d love to meet up! Where and when?” He’s not from South Florida originally, but he happens to pick this classy wine bar that’s on the beach in Fort Lauderdale. Great start.

I head in to find him and wow does he look like my middle school love. Now I’m really excited, as he’s not a lagoon creature (a term for the highly unattractive and misshapen) and he’s turning out to be rather well put together. As we finish our bottle of wine, he continues to tell me a little bit more about him, and we’re hitting it off! We begin talking about traveling, and he’s impressed that I’ve seem most of the U.S. by car. “Wow, that’s great! When I was driving down from Canada to move here, I passed through a few places but nowhere for long enough to explore. My favorite trip was to Spain and France, where my friends stopped off at this nude beach.”

Suddenly, I’m thrown off.

MENlisten carefullyMAJOR turn off…talking about sexual things via phone prior to first date, or ON the first date.

Me: “So did you…enjoy the nude beach…?”

Him: “Well, I wasn’t going to do it, but all my friends were doing it! SO I just took my pants off and voila (the other language he speaks fluently is French…just saying….hot).”

Me: “Wow…pretty adventurous. How was that?”

At this point I’m not really willing to be affected by this. He seems about 90% normal, why care that he is confident enough to drop his pants in public? If he’s willing to do that…his eh…”confidence” must be pretty…huge. Next question was in regards to the South Beach nude beach, to which I reply that I know it exists but would not go to that sort of thing.

Not my bag.

Then I quickly recovered by explaining it’s pretty normal for that type of thing in South Beach, as the mentality down there makes it seem like the Europe of FL. I can’t believe how normal the night appeared to be. A whole date without any MAJOR sense of weirdness? Impossible!

You don’t seem to be unusually attached or afflicted, uneducated or unmotivated…what’s wrong with you, I wonder?!

As is normally the case, it was allllllllll a matter of time. I should have realized little signs indicating his love for nudity, the act of being nude and general overall hatred for clothing.

Him: “Want to take a walk on the beach? Or we could have another bottle of wine? Or didn’t you say that you lived close to here?”

I text my friend and tell her that everything is fine.  Per usual girl code, if I say no, it means my dog is sick. In this scenario, she is my roommate and needs me to come home NOW. I also tell her that I think he’s trying to trick me a bit into going back to my house…she says if I’m all out of pepper spray or good judgement…do none of the above.

I decide she’s being paranoid and agree to the walk on the beach.  I’m on the fence about how I’m feeling with this one, but the walk on the beach goes seamlessly and I’m stunned by his normalcy and down to earth attitude. Now it’s time to walk back to the car. I’m parked in a dark lit place, but a place I’m familiar with so I’m not nervous. He walks me back to the car and I agree to drive him back to his.

At first, it seems harmless…until he grabs my face and kisses me like he is attacking me. Many quick HARD kisses while saying things in French in-between… “C’est Bon.” I’m officially turned off and am ready to hop in the car and head home to my “sick dog.” I HATE forward acts on a first date. Suddenly, he asks…”can you take my shirt off? I’m a little itchy and want to make sure it’s not a rash or spreading… WHAT? “Eh…no, I’m sorry. I’ll take you back to your car and you can check it out. Best of luck with that.”

As you’ll come to learn in time, I don’t joke about these things. I’m a horrible fiction writer, and what purpose would I have to lie?

He literally gets out of the car, stands up and RIPS his clothing off.

Him: “Remember when I said that I had never been to the nude beach down here?”

Me: “Uh…yes…” I’m insanely nervous at this point. WTF just happened Dr. Jekyll!?

Him: “Well…I lied. You see, I love being nude. Can’t get enough of it as a matter of fact! Had a really nice time, I WILL call you…”

Before I could say don’t bother, my façade of a decent man took off running with his clothes down a back alley…nude. One can only hope he composed himself before returning to his car or out on the busy Fort Lauderdale Beach.

Despite the various texts, emails, and calls after the incident it was clear that we were not a match.

Just another blip on the dating radar from hell!

Tales Of Online Dating: Poopie Pants

16 May

It’s not me, it’s YOU. A thousand times, YOU!

This story that I’m about to tell is particularly strange, but I swear on my dog’s life…it’s legit. I have this awful habit of getting frustrated with the normal dating scene and turning to the Internet. I’ve only done it a few times, for reasons you pretty obvious by the time this post is done. So! One summer a few years ago I got very tired of being single. My mother says to me, “You should try J-Date.” J-Date it a site where other Jewish people can get together and date, kind of like Match.com or E-Harmony….just for Jews. The entire reason my mom pushes this is because I do not date my own kind. Weird? Maybe. But it’s how I roll.

ANYWAY!

I join and see two guys worth giving my screen name to. Not even phone numbers, but email/IM. Fine. Cut to an IM I receive from George, a teacher from Miami who “seems” relatively well-adjusted minus the main profile picture being him and Goofy from a recent trip to Disney.

Him: Did I tell you the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to me?
Me: Ehm…no? We’ve only been talking for about 10 minutes now.
Him: Well it happened today, do you want to know?
Me: Sure? Go for it….

What the hell was I getting into! I was definitely not ready for the response I received.

Him: So today, I’m on the way home and I got stuck in some heavy traffic.
Me: Okay…that seems pretty standard.
Him: I realized that it was too late to turn off anywhere and I really had to…pee. So I just kind of went. Right there. In my pants.
Me: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA (etc.)
Him: IT’S NOT FUNNY! IT’S A SERIOUS CONDITION.
Me: (still laughing) OMG…you cannot be serious!
Him: Very!!!

Okay, I sign off. I’m disgusted a little, but think it’s hilarious. No way it could humanly be true, right? For  reasons I cannot explain at the moment, I decide not to block him. After a few weeks of not hearing from him, I completely forgot that he even existed.

About a month later….

Him: Hi, remember me?
Me: I think so…George?
Him: Yes, how are you doing?

Cut to boring conversation of pleasantries for the next five minutes. Then…cut back to this.

Him: Did I tell you the most embarrassing thing that has ever happened to me?
Me: Yes, you did…last time.
Him: No, something else happened pretty recently.
Me: Uh…I don’t…think…
Him: Well, I’m driving home again, but this time…I had to poop.
Me: WHAT!? You are going to tell me….at 25….you had to poop while driving home, so you just…pooped? Right in the car? In your PANTS?
Him: Don’t act so repulsed! What would YOU do in that situation?
Me: HOLD IT LIKE AN ADULT!

I blocked him immediately and got off J-Date. Come to find out, he lives with his ex-girlfriend who takes cares of him because he got pneumonia a thousand years ago and was bed ridden. While being confined to the bed he had to use diapers because he was too weak to get up and evacuate his bowels by his lonesome. He now has a fetish; he said the doctors were trying desperately to “wean” him off of…at 25.

It’s been about four years since this entire scenario has entered my head, although it’s one of my favorite stories.

A few months ago, I caught up with a friend from High School who went away for College and had recently returned. Somehow, in the mix I overhear her telling my friend the story of this guy she met online that was so bizarre. “He used to like to wear diapers,” she said. “And be cleaned up and stuff like a baby. Loved it.”

“ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT A GUY NAMED GEORGE?” I ask. To which she replied, “Yep, I sure am!”

How crazy…further proof how small the World can be, and why sometimes it’s better to just meet someone naturally and not try to “squeeze a relationship out,” or “Bowel down” to Internet dating.  It’s just not something I want to “doo.”

I’m out of poop puns, I promise!