Tag Archives: online dating

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!

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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.

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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.

MEN…listen carefully…MAJOR 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!

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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!

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