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.