It's been way too long since I've updated, but I started a new job about 2 months ago and it's been consuming most of my dating time. There have only been two since then and neither one sucked enough to write about. There was, however, an epic failure just before the new gig started and I'm finally getting around to sharing...
We "met" through that site. She was from Boston (strike 1) and a Sawx fan (strike 2), but insisted she wasn't a Masshole. I, unfortunately, took her word for it. We met up at one of my regular spots. I got there and realized she looked nothing like her pictures. She wasn't heinous (kind of cute actually) but I felt misled. We went in, got a table, ordered our drinks, the inane chatter began and that's when things went downhill. She had a pretty awful speech impediment (sort of a cross between Down's Syndrome and deafness...quite disturbing). The conversation was going nowhere fast and I knew quickly this was going to be a waste, so I figured I may as well at least drink a lot and try to make the best of it. The consumption ratio was somewhere between 2-1 and 3-1, and yet it still wasn't enough to make her not annoying.
She was a social worker, yet made "jokes" about rape victims. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for inappropriate humor, but this was a bit much, even for me. Was she testing me? If I laughed, did that make me a sick fuck? If I didn't would she think I was ignoring her? I didn't care, but I sorta did...
Somehow, the conversation turned to past relationships and I tried a few stories from the blog (figuring she'd be the next topic anyway). At that point, she decided to let it slip that her parents signed her up for the site (she was 31...figured she could afford it herself, but whatever) because they didn't like the fact that she was only dating black guys. I thought that was rather closed minded of them, and wondered why she'd let them dictate the situation when she was 31 years old. She didn't give me an answer, rather started telling me how great black men were in bed (not sure why I'd care, but I knew there was at least one small-nosed jew who she'd never use as a basis for comparison).
It was at this point that (thankfully) a friend texted me to see what I was up to. Apparently he was in my hood and wanted to hang out for a bit. I explained (while pretending to listen to her) that I was in the middle of a bad date and I'd be ready as soon as I could ditch her. He responds and tells me I have 8 minutes, maybe 10 if there was a line for the bathroom. While I'm plotting my escape, she's still droning on about her jungle fever and proceeds to explain that men of color are generally well endowed. Only problem (related to this particular item...there were lots overall) was that she didn't say it quite so eloquently. She actually used the term "N***er C**k." Of course, between the accent and impediment, it sounded like she was saying "Nigoo caulk." I explained that I needed to go because a friend was having a problem and needed to talk, which she seemed to understand. Unfortunately, as that happened, my friend showed up behind us...he grabbed a seat, the three of us chatted for a bit before she left.
By the time I walked her out and got back to the bar, he had ordered us shots, saying it seemed like I could use some more drinks. He gave me his thoughts (incredible rack, nothing else even remotely redeeming) and we drank away. Ended up meeting two other girls, stayed out until almost 4 and woke up the next morning with minimal hangover...It's that whole lemonade out of lemons thing I suppose.
There's another one tomorrow. She seems kinda awesome...a Jappy hippie more or less. I've done the phone screening and she sounds normal enough (kind of a sexy voice). If there's anything the last year and a half has taught me though, it's that if you have any expectations, they won't be met. I'm going in expecting the worst, hoping for the best. As long as she's not blog-worthy, I'll be thrilled.
Shalom beeotches
Thursday, October 8, 2009
Thursday, July 16, 2009
Thanks, but no thanks
Here's one from the early days, back when I was still an optimist. I think this one started bringing me down.
It seemed like we had a lot in common. She was kind of funny, cute (but not spectacular) and a little quirky, but in a good way. She was in between apartments, staying with friends until she found a place. We ended up going out on a Saturday night, across town near her temporary housing. She had a late-night birthday party and I had made plans with a few friends, so we got an early start, planning to go our separate ways around 11.
I showed up a few minutes early, she was a few minutes late, but much better looking than I expected, so we were off to a good start. We went in, grabbed a table, ordered our drinks and the small talk was underway. It was going well, albeit a little strange. About 15 minutes into the random chatter, she said something that really kind of confused me..."don't get your hopes up...you're not getting any ass tonight." Now, I was perplexed for several reasons...I knew she had plans post-date, so I really had no expectations; I knew she was "homeless" and we were pretty far away from my apartment, so I had no intention of trying to bring her all the way back to my place; but most of all, what had I done to make her think I was looking for some sexy fun time on date 1?
I sat in stunned silence for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to say to that...do I go the sarcastic route and tell her I wouldn't do her with someone else's equipment? Do I go the sincere route and tell her I'm not into first-date sex? Do I make a joke and ask if anal is an option? I ended up keeping it simple and reminding her that we both had plans at midnight, so I really didn't have any expectations.
The drinks kept coming, the conversation kept flowing and it was going reasonably well. Before we knew it, we were both late for our commitments, so we decided to head out. As we were leaving, I leaned in to give her a hug and she asked if I remembered what she had said earlier in the evening. Answered the question with a question, asking if she was referring to the whole "not getting any ass" thing, and she said yes. She then leaned in, bit my earlobe (hard) and whispered "but I would totally blow you if you want." Given our respective plans, her homelessness and the proximity from my apartment (not to mention the fact that I wasn't totally into her), I was hit with visions of myself dropping trou behind a dumpster and having a merry-old time. I politely declined and went on my way to meet my friends...they (predictably) gave me a hard time for turning down what I'm sure would have been mediocre fellatio.
I ended up calling her a few days later and we had a couple more dates. Nothing comically horrible, other than her story about the time she was on vacation in the Bahamas, met a "cute boy" and let him do a line of coke out of the crack of her ass. I started to realize she may have been a bit "much" for me to handle and ended things shortly thereafter. Met an incredibly awesome girl who I went out with a couple of times before she ripped my heart out and stomped on it...I won't be writing about her any time soon.
It seemed like we had a lot in common. She was kind of funny, cute (but not spectacular) and a little quirky, but in a good way. She was in between apartments, staying with friends until she found a place. We ended up going out on a Saturday night, across town near her temporary housing. She had a late-night birthday party and I had made plans with a few friends, so we got an early start, planning to go our separate ways around 11.
I showed up a few minutes early, she was a few minutes late, but much better looking than I expected, so we were off to a good start. We went in, grabbed a table, ordered our drinks and the small talk was underway. It was going well, albeit a little strange. About 15 minutes into the random chatter, she said something that really kind of confused me..."don't get your hopes up...you're not getting any ass tonight." Now, I was perplexed for several reasons...I knew she had plans post-date, so I really had no expectations; I knew she was "homeless" and we were pretty far away from my apartment, so I had no intention of trying to bring her all the way back to my place; but most of all, what had I done to make her think I was looking for some sexy fun time on date 1?
I sat in stunned silence for a few minutes, trying to figure out what to say to that...do I go the sarcastic route and tell her I wouldn't do her with someone else's equipment? Do I go the sincere route and tell her I'm not into first-date sex? Do I make a joke and ask if anal is an option? I ended up keeping it simple and reminding her that we both had plans at midnight, so I really didn't have any expectations.
The drinks kept coming, the conversation kept flowing and it was going reasonably well. Before we knew it, we were both late for our commitments, so we decided to head out. As we were leaving, I leaned in to give her a hug and she asked if I remembered what she had said earlier in the evening. Answered the question with a question, asking if she was referring to the whole "not getting any ass" thing, and she said yes. She then leaned in, bit my earlobe (hard) and whispered "but I would totally blow you if you want." Given our respective plans, her homelessness and the proximity from my apartment (not to mention the fact that I wasn't totally into her), I was hit with visions of myself dropping trou behind a dumpster and having a merry-old time. I politely declined and went on my way to meet my friends...they (predictably) gave me a hard time for turning down what I'm sure would have been mediocre fellatio.
I ended up calling her a few days later and we had a couple more dates. Nothing comically horrible, other than her story about the time she was on vacation in the Bahamas, met a "cute boy" and let him do a line of coke out of the crack of her ass. I started to realize she may have been a bit "much" for me to handle and ended things shortly thereafter. Met an incredibly awesome girl who I went out with a couple of times before she ripped my heart out and stomped on it...I won't be writing about her any time soon.
Wingardium Leviosa (AKA: Harry Potter and the Horribe Date from Azkaban)
This is a story I love to tell, and with the release of The Half-Blood Prince, I figured now would be a good time to publish it.
I'm a self-professed geek...been known to read a comic book every now and again, collected baseball cards as a child and even play the occasional video game to unwind. I'm all for having hobbies, and love it when people are passionate about things that are important to them. As with everything in life though, there have to be limits. I, unfortunately, met a girl who knew no such limits. As much as it pains me to admit, I (briefly) dated a Harry Potter freak.
From the pre-date conversations, I knew she was a fan, and I thought it was kind of cool. I had no idea how far her fandom extended though. The first date went well enough...she talked, a lot, about her Potter obsession, but I didn't mind. She was cute, funny, and seemed reasonably intelligent. Date 2 went equally well, as did date 3. I'll I was a wee bit concerned that each of the first 3 dates ended at my apartment, despite date 2 taking place much closer to hers than mine. I was having fun though, so I tried not to overthink it.
Date 4 finally went back to her place, and I wish I had been able to go back in time to avoid that...it was disturbing. The entire apartment was decked out in Potter stuff..."artwork," multiple copies of the books everywhere, more stuff than I knew existed really. Just when I thought it couldn't get any stranger, we went into her bedroom. She showed me her costumes, her "wand" and the giant Lego model of Hogwarts Castle next to her bed. I was really quite weirded out by all of this, but also slightly drunk, so I didn't run away screaming as I would have if I had been sober. Incredibly enough, things got stranger from there. She put on some music (wizard rock, which is as bad as the name of the genre suggests).
Somehow, she even managed to incorporate this HP lingo into her dirty talk...I didn't think there was much that could sound bad coming from a cute, semi-clothed girl, but somehow the word "muggle" just doesn't work. The mood sufficiently ruined, I told her I should go, but she asked me to stay...big mistake. She talked in her sleep, and in the morning, I realized that her wardrobe is comprised almost exclusively of Potter-related t-shirts. Apparently during our first 4 dates, I had seen 80% of her "nice" outfits.
I left, ran to the subway, and it was over. I imagine that if there had been a fifth date, I may have seen her last nice piece of clothing, but can't help but wonder what would have happened on date 6...would she have gone back to the beginning of the rotation, or would she have been comfortable enough to break out the Potter gear?
I've had bad, I've had strange, and I've even had one or two good dates. No matter how long I live, I don't think I'll find another girl as bizarre as the HP freak...if I do, something is very, very,very wrong with my life.
I'm a self-professed geek...been known to read a comic book every now and again, collected baseball cards as a child and even play the occasional video game to unwind. I'm all for having hobbies, and love it when people are passionate about things that are important to them. As with everything in life though, there have to be limits. I, unfortunately, met a girl who knew no such limits. As much as it pains me to admit, I (briefly) dated a Harry Potter freak.
From the pre-date conversations, I knew she was a fan, and I thought it was kind of cool. I had no idea how far her fandom extended though. The first date went well enough...she talked, a lot, about her Potter obsession, but I didn't mind. She was cute, funny, and seemed reasonably intelligent. Date 2 went equally well, as did date 3. I'll I was a wee bit concerned that each of the first 3 dates ended at my apartment, despite date 2 taking place much closer to hers than mine. I was having fun though, so I tried not to overthink it.
Date 4 finally went back to her place, and I wish I had been able to go back in time to avoid that...it was disturbing. The entire apartment was decked out in Potter stuff..."artwork," multiple copies of the books everywhere, more stuff than I knew existed really. Just when I thought it couldn't get any stranger, we went into her bedroom. She showed me her costumes, her "wand" and the giant Lego model of Hogwarts Castle next to her bed. I was really quite weirded out by all of this, but also slightly drunk, so I didn't run away screaming as I would have if I had been sober. Incredibly enough, things got stranger from there. She put on some music (wizard rock, which is as bad as the name of the genre suggests).
Somehow, she even managed to incorporate this HP lingo into her dirty talk...I didn't think there was much that could sound bad coming from a cute, semi-clothed girl, but somehow the word "muggle" just doesn't work. The mood sufficiently ruined, I told her I should go, but she asked me to stay...big mistake. She talked in her sleep, and in the morning, I realized that her wardrobe is comprised almost exclusively of Potter-related t-shirts. Apparently during our first 4 dates, I had seen 80% of her "nice" outfits.
I left, ran to the subway, and it was over. I imagine that if there had been a fifth date, I may have seen her last nice piece of clothing, but can't help but wonder what would have happened on date 6...would she have gone back to the beginning of the rotation, or would she have been comfortable enough to break out the Potter gear?
I've had bad, I've had strange, and I've even had one or two good dates. No matter how long I live, I don't think I'll find another girl as bizarre as the HP freak...if I do, something is very, very,very wrong with my life.
More inappropriate conversation
Surprise surprise...I had trouble sleeping. Got up to watch a movie, and my cable's out (again). If not for Sirius, and the return of my favorite morning radio host, I'd be going nuts right now. I spent 40 minutes on the phone with the cable company and they were (predictably) useless, so I've got to wait until a shift change before calling back. May as well use the time constructively by posting another story...
This was a somewhat rare Saturday night date. It started out in as convoluted and complicated a way as possible. You see, I had gone out drinking with a friend the night before. It deteriorated into quite the evening of debauchery, which ended with said friend crashing on my couch. Unfortunately, when I went to bed, I left my cell in the living room and forgot to turn off the alarm (which was set for ~3 hours after I left him on the couch). I woke up, friend was gone and my phone had disappeared. I started retracing my steps and had no clue where it could have been. Sent friend a frantic email before going back to the bars we had visited to see if I had left it somewhere. I emailed date girl, explaining the situation and ensuring her that this wasn't a lame attempt at bailing, and we were able to figure things out despite my phonelessness.
We met up at the planned time and she was quite attractive...easily one of my better looking dates during this unfortunate time frame. We went into the bar, had some cocktails, some good conversation and a few innocent "brushes." After a few hours and numerous drinks, she said she was hungry. Now, I don't normally eat on a first date (one of my many hangups), but it was going well enough and I was drunk enough that I figured it was safe. She picked a place a few blocks from the bar, we grabbed the check and headed out. Got outside and I realized the temperature had dropped a good 15 degrees since we started, and I had no jacket. My apartment was between the bar and restaurant and I asked if I could run in to grab a coat, assuring her that this wasn't some lame attempt to get her back to my place. She was cool with it, so we went.
She was surveying the scene while I was grabbing coat, and had wandered into the bedroom, at which point I heard "ooooooh...you have a headboard." Somewhat drunk, and somewhat "sheltered," I had no idea what this meant, so I asked for clarification. All she said was "that could be fun for later." Dumbass that I am, I still had no clue what she was talking about and tried to resume the conversation while we were snacking at the restaurant. She explained that it could be fun to tie each other up...this was a first date, I hadn't even tried to kiss her yet and she was already talking about light bondage. That should have been a sign.
While dining, we started to discuss movies and I (for reasons unbeknownst to me) mentioned Spaceballs, which was apparently a favorite of hers. After food, she wanted to go back to my place and watch it, so we did. About 5 minutes in, she began reciting all the dialog from the movie...word for word...even doing voices. I hadn't seen the movie in some time and, after about half an hour, kissed her just to get her to stop. Additional fun was had that evening, but nothing too heavy (I'm not a slut).
Date 2 went off without much of a hitch, and date 3 had been planned. That's when things took a turn. We had a few drinks and ended up back at my apartment to "hang out." Somehow, the conversation turned back to sex, and she told me how she thought it would be "so hot" to sit in a room and watch 2 guys go at it. I was able to hold back the urge to vomit, thankfully, but a classic Sam Kinison line immediately popped into my head...
During one of his early bits, he said it had been documented that every man has a homosexual fantasy. He went on to say that he had been going through his fantasies one by one, because if there's a gay one in there, he wanted it out. I did the bit for her, explaining that I'm all for gay rights, as long as I don't have to participate, throwing in another classic Kinison line ("I just don't understand how one man can stare at another man's hairy ass and find love"). She told me I was closed-minded...I told her that my mind was open, but my bum needed to remain closed at all times. She openly questioned my discomfort, explaining that she had made out with girls a few times and telling me how much fun that was. I told her that was hot, and tried to explain how it was the inclusion of another guy that sort of ruined things for me. She stood her ground about the virtues of guy on guy action, and I stood mine. We "argued" about this for a bit longer, before she finally left.
Needless to say, I never called her again. About a week later, she emailed me, wondering why she hadn't heard from me. I told her the whole gay thing made me a little uncomfortable, and she responded with a brief email, asking me what was wrong with "this," with a few gay porn pictures attached. I deleted the email, blocked her from everything and that was that.
This was a somewhat rare Saturday night date. It started out in as convoluted and complicated a way as possible. You see, I had gone out drinking with a friend the night before. It deteriorated into quite the evening of debauchery, which ended with said friend crashing on my couch. Unfortunately, when I went to bed, I left my cell in the living room and forgot to turn off the alarm (which was set for ~3 hours after I left him on the couch). I woke up, friend was gone and my phone had disappeared. I started retracing my steps and had no clue where it could have been. Sent friend a frantic email before going back to the bars we had visited to see if I had left it somewhere. I emailed date girl, explaining the situation and ensuring her that this wasn't a lame attempt at bailing, and we were able to figure things out despite my phonelessness.
We met up at the planned time and she was quite attractive...easily one of my better looking dates during this unfortunate time frame. We went into the bar, had some cocktails, some good conversation and a few innocent "brushes." After a few hours and numerous drinks, she said she was hungry. Now, I don't normally eat on a first date (one of my many hangups), but it was going well enough and I was drunk enough that I figured it was safe. She picked a place a few blocks from the bar, we grabbed the check and headed out. Got outside and I realized the temperature had dropped a good 15 degrees since we started, and I had no jacket. My apartment was between the bar and restaurant and I asked if I could run in to grab a coat, assuring her that this wasn't some lame attempt to get her back to my place. She was cool with it, so we went.
She was surveying the scene while I was grabbing coat, and had wandered into the bedroom, at which point I heard "ooooooh...you have a headboard." Somewhat drunk, and somewhat "sheltered," I had no idea what this meant, so I asked for clarification. All she said was "that could be fun for later." Dumbass that I am, I still had no clue what she was talking about and tried to resume the conversation while we were snacking at the restaurant. She explained that it could be fun to tie each other up...this was a first date, I hadn't even tried to kiss her yet and she was already talking about light bondage. That should have been a sign.
While dining, we started to discuss movies and I (for reasons unbeknownst to me) mentioned Spaceballs, which was apparently a favorite of hers. After food, she wanted to go back to my place and watch it, so we did. About 5 minutes in, she began reciting all the dialog from the movie...word for word...even doing voices. I hadn't seen the movie in some time and, after about half an hour, kissed her just to get her to stop. Additional fun was had that evening, but nothing too heavy (I'm not a slut).
Date 2 went off without much of a hitch, and date 3 had been planned. That's when things took a turn. We had a few drinks and ended up back at my apartment to "hang out." Somehow, the conversation turned back to sex, and she told me how she thought it would be "so hot" to sit in a room and watch 2 guys go at it. I was able to hold back the urge to vomit, thankfully, but a classic Sam Kinison line immediately popped into my head...
During one of his early bits, he said it had been documented that every man has a homosexual fantasy. He went on to say that he had been going through his fantasies one by one, because if there's a gay one in there, he wanted it out. I did the bit for her, explaining that I'm all for gay rights, as long as I don't have to participate, throwing in another classic Kinison line ("I just don't understand how one man can stare at another man's hairy ass and find love"). She told me I was closed-minded...I told her that my mind was open, but my bum needed to remain closed at all times. She openly questioned my discomfort, explaining that she had made out with girls a few times and telling me how much fun that was. I told her that was hot, and tried to explain how it was the inclusion of another guy that sort of ruined things for me. She stood her ground about the virtues of guy on guy action, and I stood mine. We "argued" about this for a bit longer, before she finally left.
Needless to say, I never called her again. About a week later, she emailed me, wondering why she hadn't heard from me. I told her the whole gay thing made me a little uncomfortable, and she responded with a brief email, asking me what was wrong with "this," with a few gay porn pictures attached. I deleted the email, blocked her from everything and that was that.
Wanna get high?
As I was preparing to shut down for the evening after that last post, I got an unexpected IM from one of the few people who seems to know the invisibility trick in GChat. She's somebody I care about, who you won't be hearing about on these pages. She's having roommate issues and needed to vent (was hoping that would turn into her asking to come over here for the night, but alas, it wasn't meant to be). Now I'm back awake, so I figured one more quick little ditty before trying (again) to go to sleep.
This was a few weeks ago...on a gorgeous Wednesday night. We had been chatting and emailing back and forth for a good week and a half before date night. It turned out she lives a block away from me, making it even better. The conversation was alright, but I could tell she wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Nevertheless, she was cute, pretty funny and seemed to have a good personality, so I gave it a shot. She shot down each of my first 4 bar suggestions, and we finally settled on a little outdoor spot about 8 blocks from our respective residences. I had known this place was there (as a lunch spot) but never knew they served alcohol. It was cute...good drinks and an absolutely beautiful evening. I was on my third vodka, she was on her second glass of wine. The conversation was decent, albeit not mind blowing. She was definitely cute, but a bit of a chain smoker and had a slight potty mouth. It was getting close to last call, when she decided she had to go to the bathroom. Now, this being an outdoor cafe, I didn't expect them to have one, but they did...or so we thought. She was gone for maybe 40 seconds when she came back and told me that it was "a disgusting fucking outhouse with no lights and a serial killer under the sink." I assumed that meant it was time to go and asked for the check. While we were waiting, she stared drunkenly at me and said "you're kinda hot...want to come back to my place and get high?" Now, we had never discussed drug habits before, and although I'm not against the occasional binger (my last one was about 8 years ago), I thought that was a little strange for a first date invitation. I told her I'd like to walk her home and I'd think about it on the way (didn't want to be a dickhead despite having already made up my mind). We got about a block from her apartment and she drove the final nail in the coffin of this date, saying, "Have you made up your mind about the weed yet? I've really got to pee."
I stopped in front of her building long enough to say goodbye before running home...
This was a few weeks ago...on a gorgeous Wednesday night. We had been chatting and emailing back and forth for a good week and a half before date night. It turned out she lives a block away from me, making it even better. The conversation was alright, but I could tell she wasn't the brightest bulb in the chandelier. Nevertheless, she was cute, pretty funny and seemed to have a good personality, so I gave it a shot. She shot down each of my first 4 bar suggestions, and we finally settled on a little outdoor spot about 8 blocks from our respective residences. I had known this place was there (as a lunch spot) but never knew they served alcohol. It was cute...good drinks and an absolutely beautiful evening. I was on my third vodka, she was on her second glass of wine. The conversation was decent, albeit not mind blowing. She was definitely cute, but a bit of a chain smoker and had a slight potty mouth. It was getting close to last call, when she decided she had to go to the bathroom. Now, this being an outdoor cafe, I didn't expect them to have one, but they did...or so we thought. She was gone for maybe 40 seconds when she came back and told me that it was "a disgusting fucking outhouse with no lights and a serial killer under the sink." I assumed that meant it was time to go and asked for the check. While we were waiting, she stared drunkenly at me and said "you're kinda hot...want to come back to my place and get high?" Now, we had never discussed drug habits before, and although I'm not against the occasional binger (my last one was about 8 years ago), I thought that was a little strange for a first date invitation. I told her I'd like to walk her home and I'd think about it on the way (didn't want to be a dickhead despite having already made up my mind). We got about a block from her apartment and she drove the final nail in the coffin of this date, saying, "Have you made up your mind about the weed yet? I've really got to pee."
I stopped in front of her building long enough to say goodbye before running home...
She just wouldn't shut up
Wanted to post something before wrapping up a thoroughly uneventful weekend...
I've got plenty of material in the archives, but had to go with something current here, before I forget, or worse, ask her out again. I had a date Friday night, and it was bad. Not awful by any stretch of the imagination, but not good either. We had spent a couple of days chatting back and forth on "that site" and eventually took it over to IM, including a couple of multi-hour chats (or whatever the bloody hell they're called now). She seemed like fun and we had some good conversations leading up to the date. We had exchanged lots of stories about our respective bad dates, and she assured me she wouldn't be "another story." She's far from my worst, but definitely not going up on the wall of fame either.
We decided on a bar near my apartment (I had no assumptions or expectations about bringing her home...it was a first date after all). She's unemployed at the moment, and spent the day at "home" on Long Island yesterday. There were apparently some train issues, so the scheduled start time ended up being pushed back a bit...no biggie. I got there a few minutes ahead of the revised meeting time, and she showed up a few minutes late (good start). Texted her to let her know I was outside, and described myself as "the nerdy fucker in the khakis and blue stripey shirt." She was cute...far from beautiful, but definitely not bad looking. She told me "nerdy fucker" might have been a bit generous, and that "cute geek" would be more accurate. We're off to a good start here (with no sarcasm this time). I was excited. We walked into the bar...it wasn't terribly crowded, but was kind of loud. 30 seconds after we showed the bouncer our IDs, she said she's like an old woman and it was too noisy for her, so we had to leave. Probably should have ended the date there, but suggested a quieter, slightly lamer place 2 doors down. We went in, grabbed a table, ordered our drinks and, as they say, let the games begin...
Unfortunately, I barely spoke the rest of the evening. It wasn't that I didn't have anything to say...it wasn't that I didn't want to participate in the conversation. It was just that she didn't shut up the ENTIRE time. Some of it was interesting, some was mundane, some was superficial...some was entirely too much information for a first date. She'd ask me questions, and go off into some bizarre, tangential story before I could get half an answer out.
She started by telling me that I was already miles ahead of most of her other recent dates...I was flattered, for about 3 seconds. That was all it took for her to clarify the statement and explain that the other guys she's gone out with have been such enormous losers that the bar was set pretty low. Apparently there was a guy with rather offensive B.O., another one who weighed "300 or maybe 350 pounds more than his pictures," and a third who had the audacity to put his arm around her 10 minutes into their date (oh, the horror). I casually (and sarcastically) explained that I had a great workout earlier in the day, dropping 50 or so pounds, took two showers to cover up my manly aroma and that, although I didn't put my arm around her, I had given serious thought to attempting a boob grab while we were walking from bar 1 to bar 2 (I think she got the joke).
From there, she started telling me about how, the night before, she had an emotional dinner with her ex roommate (and step cousin, or something) who moved out 9 months ago to live with her boyfriend of 4 months (who she met on this very website). Apparently, my lovely date had seen the ex roommate's boyfriend trolling for ass on the site as recently as last week, and had to break the news to her inevitably devastated friend. At this point, I started jamming to Dave Matthews in my head.
Now, I know there are certain things that are supposedly off limits for a first date...past relationships, sexual history, politics being the holy trinity as far as I'm concerned. I wish I could say it ended there, but no...she managed to broach all three of these in one fell swoop...went into painful detail about every one of her serious relationships since high school, told me about how she had gotten into a fight with her gay best friend because she blew his cousin (for a second, I thought fellatio might be the only way to get her to stop talking) and then told me about how she hates her sister for being a hot republican in a family full of liberals. I was about 7 drinks deep at this point, and my head was starting to spin...sadly, not because of the alcohol.
The pain continued for a little while longer...I heard about her mom's breast cancer, her dad's pool, hot tub and grill, how her dad (a plastic surgeon) gave her a nose job when she was 16 and how he would LOVE me (not sure what would give her that impression...I barely spoke the entire night). As she finished her third drink (and I finished my ninth), she informed me that she was getting "tipsy." I saw this as my out, grabbed the check and we left. I gave her a little hug, told her I had fun and walked home, wondering what the hell had just happened. Woke up the next morning with a headache and figured it was a hangover, but I'm starting to realize it was her. The simple act of thinking about the date enough to give the cliffs notes version here is giving me a migraine...
I've got plenty of material in the archives, but had to go with something current here, before I forget, or worse, ask her out again. I had a date Friday night, and it was bad. Not awful by any stretch of the imagination, but not good either. We had spent a couple of days chatting back and forth on "that site" and eventually took it over to IM, including a couple of multi-hour chats (or whatever the bloody hell they're called now). She seemed like fun and we had some good conversations leading up to the date. We had exchanged lots of stories about our respective bad dates, and she assured me she wouldn't be "another story." She's far from my worst, but definitely not going up on the wall of fame either.
We decided on a bar near my apartment (I had no assumptions or expectations about bringing her home...it was a first date after all). She's unemployed at the moment, and spent the day at "home" on Long Island yesterday. There were apparently some train issues, so the scheduled start time ended up being pushed back a bit...no biggie. I got there a few minutes ahead of the revised meeting time, and she showed up a few minutes late (good start). Texted her to let her know I was outside, and described myself as "the nerdy fucker in the khakis and blue stripey shirt." She was cute...far from beautiful, but definitely not bad looking. She told me "nerdy fucker" might have been a bit generous, and that "cute geek" would be more accurate. We're off to a good start here (with no sarcasm this time). I was excited. We walked into the bar...it wasn't terribly crowded, but was kind of loud. 30 seconds after we showed the bouncer our IDs, she said she's like an old woman and it was too noisy for her, so we had to leave. Probably should have ended the date there, but suggested a quieter, slightly lamer place 2 doors down. We went in, grabbed a table, ordered our drinks and, as they say, let the games begin...
Unfortunately, I barely spoke the rest of the evening. It wasn't that I didn't have anything to say...it wasn't that I didn't want to participate in the conversation. It was just that she didn't shut up the ENTIRE time. Some of it was interesting, some was mundane, some was superficial...some was entirely too much information for a first date. She'd ask me questions, and go off into some bizarre, tangential story before I could get half an answer out.
She started by telling me that I was already miles ahead of most of her other recent dates...I was flattered, for about 3 seconds. That was all it took for her to clarify the statement and explain that the other guys she's gone out with have been such enormous losers that the bar was set pretty low. Apparently there was a guy with rather offensive B.O., another one who weighed "300 or maybe 350 pounds more than his pictures," and a third who had the audacity to put his arm around her 10 minutes into their date (oh, the horror). I casually (and sarcastically) explained that I had a great workout earlier in the day, dropping 50 or so pounds, took two showers to cover up my manly aroma and that, although I didn't put my arm around her, I had given serious thought to attempting a boob grab while we were walking from bar 1 to bar 2 (I think she got the joke).
From there, she started telling me about how, the night before, she had an emotional dinner with her ex roommate (and step cousin, or something) who moved out 9 months ago to live with her boyfriend of 4 months (who she met on this very website). Apparently, my lovely date had seen the ex roommate's boyfriend trolling for ass on the site as recently as last week, and had to break the news to her inevitably devastated friend. At this point, I started jamming to Dave Matthews in my head.
Now, I know there are certain things that are supposedly off limits for a first date...past relationships, sexual history, politics being the holy trinity as far as I'm concerned. I wish I could say it ended there, but no...she managed to broach all three of these in one fell swoop...went into painful detail about every one of her serious relationships since high school, told me about how she had gotten into a fight with her gay best friend because she blew his cousin (for a second, I thought fellatio might be the only way to get her to stop talking) and then told me about how she hates her sister for being a hot republican in a family full of liberals. I was about 7 drinks deep at this point, and my head was starting to spin...sadly, not because of the alcohol.
The pain continued for a little while longer...I heard about her mom's breast cancer, her dad's pool, hot tub and grill, how her dad (a plastic surgeon) gave her a nose job when she was 16 and how he would LOVE me (not sure what would give her that impression...I barely spoke the entire night). As she finished her third drink (and I finished my ninth), she informed me that she was getting "tipsy." I saw this as my out, grabbed the check and we left. I gave her a little hug, told her I had fun and walked home, wondering what the hell had just happened. Woke up the next morning with a headache and figured it was a hangover, but I'm starting to realize it was her. The simple act of thinking about the date enough to give the cliffs notes version here is giving me a migraine...
Some online introductions that couldn't have gone anywhere
So, as I mentioned, I've been doing the online dating thing for about a year now. There have been a few successes, but a lot more failures. Since the ones that went well really aren't funny, I'll be focusing on the fails here. There have been a lot, but sometimes the dates that don't even happen are even funnier that the ones that do.
Now, since I've mentioned that I'm a neurotic Jew, you can probably imagine which site I'm using for my Intarwebs dating adventures (it's not BBWslookingforlove.com). I had paid for my membership for a while, but after realizing that I was too shy to "approach" any of the halfway decent looking jewesses on the site, I decided to downgrade to a free membership. They really have you by the balls on those, since you can't send or read emails (the people sending have no idea you're not allowed to look, of course, so they usually just think you're being a dickhead), or send IMs. Really, all you can do is receive IMs. Thankfully, for my material at least, it seems as though most of the girls ballsy enough to make the first move and disturbed enough to find me attractive haven't the foggiest idea of how to start a conversation...either that, or they're just looking for laughs.
Some of the messages I get aren't bad...a simple "hi" that turns into a conversation, which may or may not lead to a date. Others, though, are so mind-numbingly bizarre that I can't help but share, if for no reason than to ask if women really are this fucked up.
Most of these IM "sessions" were closed without a response, either because of disgust, confusion or the simple fact that I couldn't think of a suitably horrific response. I want to remain hopeful...I really do...but things like this just make me wonder if I'm destined to live out my remaining years alone, or worse, go gay...
Weird IM #1 (from a rather attractive 26 year-old): "Would you be open to starting with a one-night stand and seeing where things go from there?"
*um, no thank you, but hi, I'm Dr. Nerd...
Weird IM #2 (from a less attractive 25 year-old): "Would you be open to a tresemme?"
*I thought she meant shampoo, and before I could respond with a "WTF" (the only suitable response), she made it clear that she simply couldn't spell "threesome," by explaining to me that the kind with 2 girls is better than the one with 2 guys (I never would have guessed).
Weird IM #3 (from an unattractive, yet extremely well endowed blonde): "So, do you like my boobs?"
*This one, I actually responded to...told her I hadn't looked, at which point she informed me that they were real, spectacular (ripping off Seinfeld I believe) and would look great bouncing up and down in my bed. I would have continued the conversation had I not realized just how unattractive the rest of her was.
Weird IM #4 (from a girl I'm convinced was once a guy): "You look like you're well hung...am I right?"
*I couldn't help but wonder how many other guys she had IMd with that and if any of them were desperate enough to respond.
Weird IM #5 (from one that didn't seem so bad at first): "I just saw you at Duane Reade on [insert address here]...you're cute"
*As with #3, I responded...asked her why, if she thought I was cute and just saw me IN REAL LIFE, she wouldn't talk to me and would instead try to find me immediately on the Internet (she didn't have an answer to that question)
Weird IM #6 (I don't have any recollection of who this one was from): "Where do you live. Can I come over?"
*I thought about giving her my friend's address, just as a goof, but ignored it instead.
Not so lucky #7 (this was probably just one of my friends playing a joke on me): "Ur cuuuuuuuute...I want u to hav my babees."
*Putting aside her obvious issues with our language, I decided to focus on the logical issues with this statement. Now, I'm no biology major (despite being a doctor), but I'm pretty sure it's girls that have babies, not boys.
I've got some more IMs to share, plenty of emails, and even better (although longer) some great dates gone wrong. Enjoy...and tell your friends.
Now, since I've mentioned that I'm a neurotic Jew, you can probably imagine which site I'm using for my Intarwebs dating adventures (it's not BBWslookingforlove.com). I had paid for my membership for a while, but after realizing that I was too shy to "approach" any of the halfway decent looking jewesses on the site, I decided to downgrade to a free membership. They really have you by the balls on those, since you can't send or read emails (the people sending have no idea you're not allowed to look, of course, so they usually just think you're being a dickhead), or send IMs. Really, all you can do is receive IMs. Thankfully, for my material at least, it seems as though most of the girls ballsy enough to make the first move and disturbed enough to find me attractive haven't the foggiest idea of how to start a conversation...either that, or they're just looking for laughs.
Some of the messages I get aren't bad...a simple "hi" that turns into a conversation, which may or may not lead to a date. Others, though, are so mind-numbingly bizarre that I can't help but share, if for no reason than to ask if women really are this fucked up.
Most of these IM "sessions" were closed without a response, either because of disgust, confusion or the simple fact that I couldn't think of a suitably horrific response. I want to remain hopeful...I really do...but things like this just make me wonder if I'm destined to live out my remaining years alone, or worse, go gay...
Weird IM #1 (from a rather attractive 26 year-old): "Would you be open to starting with a one-night stand and seeing where things go from there?"
*um, no thank you, but hi, I'm Dr. Nerd...
Weird IM #2 (from a less attractive 25 year-old): "Would you be open to a tresemme?"
*I thought she meant shampoo, and before I could respond with a "WTF" (the only suitable response), she made it clear that she simply couldn't spell "threesome," by explaining to me that the kind with 2 girls is better than the one with 2 guys (I never would have guessed).
Weird IM #3 (from an unattractive, yet extremely well endowed blonde): "So, do you like my boobs?"
*This one, I actually responded to...told her I hadn't looked, at which point she informed me that they were real, spectacular (ripping off Seinfeld I believe) and would look great bouncing up and down in my bed. I would have continued the conversation had I not realized just how unattractive the rest of her was.
Weird IM #4 (from a girl I'm convinced was once a guy): "You look like you're well hung...am I right?"
*I couldn't help but wonder how many other guys she had IMd with that and if any of them were desperate enough to respond.
Weird IM #5 (from one that didn't seem so bad at first): "I just saw you at Duane Reade on [insert address here]...you're cute"
*As with #3, I responded...asked her why, if she thought I was cute and just saw me IN REAL LIFE, she wouldn't talk to me and would instead try to find me immediately on the Internet (she didn't have an answer to that question)
Weird IM #6 (I don't have any recollection of who this one was from): "Where do you live. Can I come over?"
*I thought about giving her my friend's address, just as a goof, but ignored it instead.
Not so lucky #7 (this was probably just one of my friends playing a joke on me): "Ur cuuuuuuuute...I want u to hav my babees."
*Putting aside her obvious issues with our language, I decided to focus on the logical issues with this statement. Now, I'm no biology major (despite being a doctor), but I'm pretty sure it's girls that have babies, not boys.
I've got some more IMs to share, plenty of emails, and even better (although longer) some great dates gone wrong. Enjoy...and tell your friends.
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