Tuesday, October 27, 2009

Friendship Circle of Happiness

I realized that simply changing the boy's name is not nearly as fun as giving them a ridiculous nickname and/or descriptive phrase. Techincally this description, "Friendship circle of Happiness" was suggested by my sister, but whatev.



Having abandoned Match for the free-ness that is Plenty of Fish.com, I was actually the one to approach our next friend. He professed a love of '80's pop culture, (who doesn't love The Breakfast Club?) complete with a user name dedicated to The Goonies. His personality seemed pretty similar to mine (and I have pretty much decided I want to date myself, but myself with a penis) so I sent him an email. Emails led to text messages which lead to The Question Game. I love to talk about myself but it's much easier to do when people ask me questions. And since other people like to talk about themselves as well, I'm expected to ask questions in return. Wack. One of the questions I asked this Jake Ryan wannabe was, "Do you have any tattoos?" Pretty standard. He answered "yes, some cartoons from my childhood."



Hmmm. Ok, I'm personally not one for cartoons, but I've seen some cool stuff done with Batman, Superman, etc. Yeah...I wish.



"Cool, what ones?"



"Big Bird, Pooh, Tigger, Mickey and Minnie Mouse, plus I want to get the Swedish Chef and Fozzy Bear." Plus a crapload of other cartoons that I can't even remember. WTF?? I'm all for loving your childhood, but emblazoning them on your ankle in a "Friendship Circle of Happiness??" No. Still, I agreed to a dinner date (mostly to view this monstrosity on a grown man's leg) and met him at the restaurant.


He confessed I was his first date from the interweb, which explained his nervousness. I can appreciate a shy boy, but this guy was pratically mute. He laughed at my jokes (I am hilarious, after all) and seemed interested in what I had to say, but a one-sided conversation is not my idea of a good time. We had agreed before hand to dinner, followed by a couple drinks at a local nightspot. I was hesitant to agree in the event that he was a murderer or a bore, and unfortunately had given in. We drove separately to the bar, and while I was tempted to just keep on drivin' I met him anyway. Even after a couple of beers this guy had nothing to say. Really? You just met me, you know next to nothing about me and you still can't rustle up a question or glib anecdote? Checkkkk please. Oh, and speaking of check, I paid for his entrance to the club AND his first drink. I'm all for women's lib and equality of the sexes, but bitch please, pay for me on the FIRST date. Come On.

Well, if you think I'm outspoken when I'm sober, you should hang out with me when I've had a couple. I practically demanded he whip out his tats, which besides Sesame Street also included a hula girl, fish, coral and giant squid-esque creature on his forearm. Wack.

I of course pretended to like these poor excuses for art, then, pleading fatigue, made my escape. Dispite blatantly yawning in this poor guy's face ( I was actually kinda tired) he sent me a text later that weekend. I sucked it up and told him I didn't feel any chemistry.

At least he has his cartoons to keep him company.

Tuesday, July 21, 2009

"Chris"

August 2005. Chris was the best man at a wedding I attended. Somehow (the open bar might have played a part) I hadn't noticed him until he walked by me on the dance floor. Being the outgoing, confident girl I am (read: hammered, and thus harboring no inhibitions) I grabbed him and we started dancing.
He spent the night in my hotel room (on the floor, as I was in the same room as my sister and parents. Get your mind out of the gutter, jeeeez!) when he was locked out of his, and we shared a very cute good night kiss.

I heard from him about 2 weeks later. Despite his penchant for the Republican party, I wanted to see him again and find out if we had any chemistry while not under the influence. I met him at a party and we started dating that night.
Unfortunately, the state in which I met him (hammered) should have been an indicator of the issues to come. He preferred shots and frumbles (shaking a beer can and taking turns with your equally genius friends hitting yourself in the head with it) to walks on the beach and sober dinners. He was never mean or abusive, just emotionally absent and incommunicado. The baby of an Italian family, he was raised to be waited on hand and foot by females. Well, I grew up in a household where my father did the cooking, laundry and gardening and mom fixed stuff with a drill, so I was in no mood to be someone's mommy.
We fought often, I wanted to be important to him, wanted him to choose me over his friends just once or twice. I stayed about 6 months longer than I should have.
He's now engaged to a girl who cuts his fruit and packs his lunch for work :/

Sunday, July 19, 2009

"Francisco"

So, I'm guilty of using the internet as means to a dating end. Despite my lack of success, I continue to "put myself out there" complete with what I like to think is a funny, endearing and charming profile and Match approved photos. I don't think my standards are ridiculously high, is it that wrong to expect a man to know the difference between "your" and "you're?" To be actually funny instead of a sarcastic wiseass who thinks it's amusing to tell you he has HIV after you break up with him? (He didn't, and don't worry, I'll discuss that dumbass in his own entry). So when "Francisco" sent me an email, followed by an instant message I was pleasantly surprised when he was both literate and hilarious . I actually laughed out loud from his first message on. We exchanged witty banter. We flirted. We made arrangements to meet the next day (What? I work fast). He was half-Asian, half-Italian which intrigued me (I might have an unhealthy obsession with the Gosselin children of Jon & Kate Plus 8 fame) and if I'm honest, half-Italian, half-Anything is usually my type.
We met the following day at a chain restaurant in my town. I dressed for a date (jeans, nice top, some sort of jewelry) and he showed up in sweat pants. Hello, first problem. Really? Sweatpants? I'm all for casual but christ, on a first date? Whatever, clothes aside he had a cute face and I guess you could call me a face-ist (is that a word? It is now.) A little on the short side for me (I'm 5'7) but hey, he could be my future husband! Am I really going to split hairs because my legs were longer than his? Of course not!
Lunch began. And unfortunately he was not nearly (read: not at all) as funny as he was while instant messaging me the night before. I chalked it up to being nervous. Apparently I'm as charming in real life as I am on the interweb.
*Interruption*
A good friend of mine created what we call:
"Maggie's* Rules for Dating (because sometimes we all forget)" They are as follows:
1. Clearly you should meet somewhere public for the first 2 dates and not:
2. get in his car
3. drive out of state
4. go to a hotel and/or apartment
5. take off clothing
6. get wasted
7. see "he's not a murderer" and do any of the above

I may or may not have done all the above at some point with various mistakes. Hence, mistake.

Anyway, after a lack-luster lunch (where this boy, who had what I refer to as a "Retired Athlete's" physique, barely ate) I made the mistake of getting in his car (breaking rule number 2) and driving to the beach (rule number 3). I'm enticed by the promise of a shorehouse, what can I say?

After the impromptu beach visit he dropped me off. Despite being 3 years my senior (and I was 25 at the time) he giggled nervously when it came time for "The Kiss." Ugh. Can I please express my distaste for grown men who giggle? He even laughed while kissing me. Ugh again. I get grossed out just thinking about it.

So, despite having been bored for the majority of the date, I agreed to go out with him again figuring, hey, maybe he was just nervous. Give the guy a chance. My job allows for freedom during the day so I met him at a mall in the area. Sweatpants day 2. Boring date day 2. Bad kissing day 2. And still, I agreed to yet another date. (Why self? Why????) After another equally blahhh date I finally made the phone call to end it. Here comes the CrAzY we've all been waiting for. Having regaled Francisco with tales of hating the elliptical and loving The Office, this guy tells me, "I downloaded episodes of The Office for you on an iPod. I know you hate cardio and this should get you through it." I said, "Wow, so nice of you but I have a 2nd Generation Nano, and I can't watch shows on it." To which he replied, "Oh, I know. I meant I bought you an iPod and put episodes on it for you. It's even your favorite color!" WHAT? You bought me a ridiculously expensive gift in my favorite hue and loaded it with episodes of Jim Halpert and his sexy self?????? WHO DOES THAT after dating someone for a WEEK????? CrAzY people, that's who. Knowing I had to refuse this fantastic gift (who wants to owe a CrAzY anything? Not this girl) I sadly informed Francisco that while his heart was in the right place, mine unfortunately was not in the same area. Luckily, he took the news well enough and I haven't been bothered since. That iPod would have been pretty awesome though.

Where to begin?

In the 10 or so years since I've entered the wild world of hook-ups, relationships and everything in between, I have definitely dated some major mistakes. Many of them embarrassing (more so for them than me, of course) so all names have been changed to protect the CrAzY.