"I-I-I-I-I-Iiiiii'm a saaaaaa-lesman for a lo, lo, local technical c-c-c-c-ompany, like that. I have a, a, a, a, a, nephew, like that. He's four, like that. I'dddddd li-li-like kids some d-d-d-daaaaaay, like that."
Date night...with a stutterer who also has a weird verbal tick.
Seriously? Do I even have to type the whole experience out? You get it, right? One of the hardest first (and only) dates I have ever been on.
Friday, April 22, 2011
Monday, April 18, 2011
The Cougar vs. the Cub, Part II
I spent Sunday afternoon doing one of my (new) favorite things - watching a live sporting event. Now, most probably wouldn't call flag football an event, but when you are watching your cub take control on the field and you start to feel your insides get all mushy when he smiles and waves from the sidelines, you kinda start to think of it as an event.
There is something about the way an athlete carries himself...his center of gravity, the way his feet are so sure on the ground, the gentle sway of his hips and shoulders and where to put his hands - it all exudes this sure-of-self demeanour that for the life of me, I really can't even explain without getting all giggly. I've never really paid attention to the confidence in the way an athlete moves, until now. Funny thing is, I only noticed it when my cub ran to the woods to take a leak! How can something that I've never noticed until now, turn me on so much about this person? It's so strange.
There's a certain feeling of pride and scariness about watching someone in their element. I was able to tell in very short notice that the cub is very respected on his team, both with the players and the coaches. He had his teammate's backs on the field and off - - and when the referee started to make some bogus calls, it was the cub who chilled the team out and got them re-focused. You can just tell when someone loves what they are doing - and sports is this guy's thing. I asked him later that night what sport he absolutely refuses to watch, and he replied with "soccer." A true American! The scary part comes when I start thinking about if I'm good enough to be with this person. I'm not the girl who can be the trophy on someones arm...I just don't have that kind of face or body. All throughout the game I found myself wondering if the cub was going to come over to me afterward, or if he would keep me hidden away - not speak to me until we were alone. I don't know why I thought this, since we have been out a couple of times...IN PUBLIC...and he's made no intent to make people think he wasn't with me. It's that whole non-athlete self-doubt coming into play! And, sure enough, after the last minutes of the clock counted down, and his team lost by 1 point, he jogged over to my seat on the bleachers, leaned in front of me and gave me the sweetest kiss, smudging a bit of mud on my nose in the process. He proceeded to tell me that I looked nice (I was in yoga gear) and that he had to shower or he would totally stink me out.
Dare I say this...but he seems to kinda like me.
In about 10 minutes, we were sitting in his car staring at each other, trying to figure out where we could go that was private for a little make out session. :) The cub had a family event in the same town an hour later and going back to my place wouldn't work since it's a 35 minute trip one way. It was way too nice of a day for the park, which was teaming with all kinds of weirdos, so jokingly I threw out the idea of the cemetery. I swear I was joking! At first. Then, I kind of melted into the idea - you know, besides being completely disrespectful to the dead and all. If I start to feel haunted, I'll know that it was a bad idea!
The cub parked the car in the back of the lot and we both climbed into the back seat in the most hurried fashion I've ever seen. The cub at least got out of the car to get into the back, whereas I climbed right over the seat divider. Classy. We made out in the backseat, which progressed to more when we realized that the seats folded down all the way and the tinted windows would hide any exposed skin.
In about an hour, we both collapsed into each other and stayed that way until the cub realized that he was 30 minutes late for his family gathering! Ops. It was then, that he ran into the woods to pee and I came to my athlete epiphany while watching him from the car. I found myself smiling to the point that when he returned to the car, he asked me what was going on. All I could do was nod my head and internalize it.
I'm really attracted to this guy who is so many years my junior. It's totally lust - but there are nights when we talk for hours and I forget that he's only 23 and it scares me. I guess we shall wait to see how this all plays out....
There is something about the way an athlete carries himself...his center of gravity, the way his feet are so sure on the ground, the gentle sway of his hips and shoulders and where to put his hands - it all exudes this sure-of-self demeanour that for the life of me, I really can't even explain without getting all giggly. I've never really paid attention to the confidence in the way an athlete moves, until now. Funny thing is, I only noticed it when my cub ran to the woods to take a leak! How can something that I've never noticed until now, turn me on so much about this person? It's so strange.
There's a certain feeling of pride and scariness about watching someone in their element. I was able to tell in very short notice that the cub is very respected on his team, both with the players and the coaches. He had his teammate's backs on the field and off - - and when the referee started to make some bogus calls, it was the cub who chilled the team out and got them re-focused. You can just tell when someone loves what they are doing - and sports is this guy's thing. I asked him later that night what sport he absolutely refuses to watch, and he replied with "soccer." A true American! The scary part comes when I start thinking about if I'm good enough to be with this person. I'm not the girl who can be the trophy on someones arm...I just don't have that kind of face or body. All throughout the game I found myself wondering if the cub was going to come over to me afterward, or if he would keep me hidden away - not speak to me until we were alone. I don't know why I thought this, since we have been out a couple of times...IN PUBLIC...and he's made no intent to make people think he wasn't with me. It's that whole non-athlete self-doubt coming into play! And, sure enough, after the last minutes of the clock counted down, and his team lost by 1 point, he jogged over to my seat on the bleachers, leaned in front of me and gave me the sweetest kiss, smudging a bit of mud on my nose in the process. He proceeded to tell me that I looked nice (I was in yoga gear) and that he had to shower or he would totally stink me out.
Dare I say this...but he seems to kinda like me.
In about 10 minutes, we were sitting in his car staring at each other, trying to figure out where we could go that was private for a little make out session. :) The cub had a family event in the same town an hour later and going back to my place wouldn't work since it's a 35 minute trip one way. It was way too nice of a day for the park, which was teaming with all kinds of weirdos, so jokingly I threw out the idea of the cemetery. I swear I was joking! At first. Then, I kind of melted into the idea - you know, besides being completely disrespectful to the dead and all. If I start to feel haunted, I'll know that it was a bad idea!
The cub parked the car in the back of the lot and we both climbed into the back seat in the most hurried fashion I've ever seen. The cub at least got out of the car to get into the back, whereas I climbed right over the seat divider. Classy. We made out in the backseat, which progressed to more when we realized that the seats folded down all the way and the tinted windows would hide any exposed skin.
In about an hour, we both collapsed into each other and stayed that way until the cub realized that he was 30 minutes late for his family gathering! Ops. It was then, that he ran into the woods to pee and I came to my athlete epiphany while watching him from the car. I found myself smiling to the point that when he returned to the car, he asked me what was going on. All I could do was nod my head and internalize it.
I'm really attracted to this guy who is so many years my junior. It's totally lust - but there are nights when we talk for hours and I forget that he's only 23 and it scares me. I guess we shall wait to see how this all plays out....
Monday, April 11, 2011
The Cougar vs. The Cub
To quote a friend, "young boys have their place in any good rotation."
I went out for drinks with a very young 23 year old last night. I am not anywhere close to the age of 23...in fact, if you invert the numbers and add a couple of years, then you've got my age. This boy was not only young and tall (6'3'') but incredibly handsome and had muscles for days - obviously an athlete.
Our date got off to a slightly awkward start when he asked his buddy to tag along. I was thinking "what the hell? This is not a tag team situation!" Luckily, there was no intention of that happening, but my young cub did admit that he felt more comfortable having a wingman in case I was a weirdo. Totally understandable. Can you imagine if I started showing up for dates with a posse in tow? That sounds like a little bit of awesome! Anyway, about 5 minutes into the date, it then became a game of "lose the wingman."
We were chatting it up, sitting entirely too close to each other, when I decided that I was going to offer up the first challenge of the night...I told my cub that there would be something very special in store for him if he could tie a cherry stem using only his mouth. (This trick also shows me if he will be useful in other areas too.) For someone who claims that he never tied a cherry stem before, he sure busted out a perfect knot awfully fast!
The something special came about an hour and a half later when the wingman left, our tab was paid and my cub went into the men's room before we departed to check out another local hangout. I very smoothly snuck in behind him, grabbed his hand and led him into the only bathroom stall. He pinned me against the wall and started to kiss me, grinding himself into my pelvis. I let my hands do a little traveling, then unbuckled his belt and...well, you know.
Here's the minor issue when getting frisky in the men's room - besides guys walking in and out constantly. Sometimes, to keep your balance, you accidentally steady yourself with your bare hand on the pee soaked toilet rim! So disgusting!!! Then, you have to keep that hand completely out of commission for the rest of the act which can be difficult, especially if you're dealing with what my cub was packin'! By far, the biggest penis I have ever experienced....not only lengthy, but incredibly girthy.
We darted out of the bathroom afterwards and headed over to another bar to play some darts. My cub was definitely in an affectionate state of mind the rest of the evening. There was inappropriate touching during the dart hand-off, stolen kisses right out in public viewing (I guess they weren't really "stolen" but describing them that way is terribly romantic) and the second challenge of the evening! To be honest, I can't remember what the challenge was - - but I do know that I won it and got to pick my own prize, which I collected on when we finally got to my place. ;) Yep...
I'm fairly sexually driven. My drive was nothing compared to that of my hunky 23 year old. What a fucking animal! No downtime for me at all, so I'm not only sore in all the right places, but I'm also a walking zombie with a serious case of beard burn all over my face! By the first light of daybreak, I graduated to being one of those girls who just lays there. I just couldn't move anymore. It didn't matter, if he wanted me somewhere, he just picked me up and plopped me down with absolutely no effort at all. My alarm clock didn't have to wake me...there was no sleeping last night. Not even a little snooze. However, the shower that I thought would re-energize me turned into another round when he surprised me by throwing open the curtain and hopping in. So, today at work, I look and feel spent. My hair is a mess because I did a half-assed shampoo job, I barely used soap, my legs and pits are hairy, I'm pretty sure that I didn't apply deodorant and it looks like to got dressed trying to keep someone's hands from ripping off my clothes - which I was. (Not to mention the aforementioned beard burn and sore girlie parts.)
Before walking out to our cars to return to the land of the well-rested, he pulled me to him and said "I will get to see you again, right?" Oh cubber, you will...if this old cougar can keep up, and only on a Friday or Saturday and NOT A WEEK NIGHT! I may need to start eating my Wheaties!
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Congratulations UConn!!!
I don't follow basketball. I was a cheerleader in high school but I have not watched a single basketball game since our season ended in senior year - and that includes both professional and college ball. This year I had a slight personal interest, coupled with the thought of sweet revenge.
I was stood up.
The plan was to meet at a local sports bar for a few drinks and watch the Syracuse vs. UConn game on the big screen. My date was a huge Syracuse fan, so chances are it would've been a bad time anyway, and I would have been left to entertain myself, but I digress, I have the ability to turn lemons into lemonade if there is some kind of sweetener present, which there wasn't. And, don't worry - my date didn't sacrifice and miss the game just to bow out of a date with me...he stood me up right to my fucking face. Way to take the high road.
Since the game was to start at 7pm, we decided to meet at 6:30 to order drinks and talk a little. I showed up promptly on time and spotted the guy as I walked in. We locked eyes, I smiled, he shook his head and turned away. Ouch. Now, for a split second I thought "maybe that's not him." So, I stood off to the side and sent a quick text telling him that I had arrived. He replied back immediately saying that he was on his way. Hmmm...
I walked over to the only spot available at the bar, which was unfortunately right next to the guy who I thought was my date. Pointing to the chair, I asked if that seat was taken. Flustered, he mumbled something that sounded like no, and proceeded to collect his jacket and drink, repositioning himself to the end of the bar - far away from me. LOL! It's funny because I didn't feel hurt or bad at any time during this entire encounter...in fact, I decided to fuck with him. I sat myself down, took off my coat, pulled my shirt down just a little to reveal some cleavage, ordered a Guinness pint and started flirting heavily with the guy sitting to the right of me. My new friend relayed the whole story to the bar tender, who immediately took out a couple of remotes and placed them on the bar top, in front of my flirting buddy. "I'm sure you're a good channel surfer. You should play with these come game time." She followed up that comment with a little wink in my direction. Awesome.
"Tonight will be fun" said my new friend. I could hardly suppress the evil laugh deep from my insides as I rubbed my hands together and raised an eyebrow.
I finished my beer, paid my $5.00 tab including tip, got my coat back on and walked out the door with my head held high, all before the game started. I did send a little text back saying, "You're an asshole. You look horrible in orange, and GO UCONN!"
So imagine my delight when later that night I found out that in UConn won against Syracuse in overtime, 76-71! I hope that bastard had money on the game! I really hope that my new channel-changer friend accepted his new mission with gusto and blocked out several key portions of the game. I'll never know. Check out the other *winning* stats from the game...LOL.
*The loss snaps a six-game winning streak for Syracuse.
*The loss snaps a four-game winning streak for Syracuse vs UConn in the Big East Tournament.
*Syracuse missed 5 of 6 field-goal attempts and went 1-for-4 at the free-throw line in overtime.
*Syracuse's 45 percent (5-11) free-throw shooting was its worst of the year.
And then, UConn went on to WIN IT ALL! I'm as happy as a clam, even though I could care less. :) Karma, you done good.
I was stood up.
The plan was to meet at a local sports bar for a few drinks and watch the Syracuse vs. UConn game on the big screen. My date was a huge Syracuse fan, so chances are it would've been a bad time anyway, and I would have been left to entertain myself, but I digress, I have the ability to turn lemons into lemonade if there is some kind of sweetener present, which there wasn't. And, don't worry - my date didn't sacrifice and miss the game just to bow out of a date with me...he stood me up right to my fucking face. Way to take the high road.
Since the game was to start at 7pm, we decided to meet at 6:30 to order drinks and talk a little. I showed up promptly on time and spotted the guy as I walked in. We locked eyes, I smiled, he shook his head and turned away. Ouch. Now, for a split second I thought "maybe that's not him." So, I stood off to the side and sent a quick text telling him that I had arrived. He replied back immediately saying that he was on his way. Hmmm...
I walked over to the only spot available at the bar, which was unfortunately right next to the guy who I thought was my date. Pointing to the chair, I asked if that seat was taken. Flustered, he mumbled something that sounded like no, and proceeded to collect his jacket and drink, repositioning himself to the end of the bar - far away from me. LOL! It's funny because I didn't feel hurt or bad at any time during this entire encounter...in fact, I decided to fuck with him. I sat myself down, took off my coat, pulled my shirt down just a little to reveal some cleavage, ordered a Guinness pint and started flirting heavily with the guy sitting to the right of me. My new friend relayed the whole story to the bar tender, who immediately took out a couple of remotes and placed them on the bar top, in front of my flirting buddy. "I'm sure you're a good channel surfer. You should play with these come game time." She followed up that comment with a little wink in my direction. Awesome.
"Tonight will be fun" said my new friend. I could hardly suppress the evil laugh deep from my insides as I rubbed my hands together and raised an eyebrow.
I finished my beer, paid my $5.00 tab including tip, got my coat back on and walked out the door with my head held high, all before the game started. I did send a little text back saying, "You're an asshole. You look horrible in orange, and GO UCONN!"
So imagine my delight when later that night I found out that in UConn won against Syracuse in overtime, 76-71! I hope that bastard had money on the game! I really hope that my new channel-changer friend accepted his new mission with gusto and blocked out several key portions of the game. I'll never know. Check out the other *winning* stats from the game...LOL.
*The loss snaps a six-game winning streak for Syracuse.
*The loss snaps a four-game winning streak for Syracuse vs UConn in the Big East Tournament.
*Syracuse missed 5 of 6 field-goal attempts and went 1-for-4 at the free-throw line in overtime.
*Syracuse's 45 percent (5-11) free-throw shooting was its worst of the year.
And then, UConn went on to WIN IT ALL! I'm as happy as a clam, even though I could care less. :) Karma, you done good.
Friday, April 1, 2011
The Laughing Accountant
Friend: "I never tell new people that I'm talking to that I'm an accountant."
Me: "Huh? Why? It's a good job."
Friend: "Oh, I know...but people think that all accountants are boring and I don't want to be stereotyped."
Me: "I think YOU are the only accountant I know that's an exception to the stereotype. I went out with an accountant once."
Friend: "Was he a tax accountant?"
Me: "Yeah."
Friend: "And how was it?"
Me: "So..."
...luckily, one of my best friends in the whole wide world "was in a situation" and "needed me to come over." You can subtract a couple of karma points on this one.
Let me back it up a little. When I started to date on-line, I used Craigslist.* I have absolutely no tolerance for stupid people who don't know the difference between there, their and they're, so when I saw an ad that was written in proper English, with proper punctuation I kinda got a little excited and reached out to this person. He was a small business tax accountant. We emailed for a bit making small talk until he finally asked me out on a date a couple of days later. I didn't expect him to bust out reservations to one of the fanciest places in town - and that is exactly what he did! To say that I was impressed was an understatement. Maybe I ended up roping the mother load!!!
It felt wonderful to dress up in nice clothes and killer heels in anticipation of a wonderful dinner prepared by one of the hottest chefs in town. I checked my coat and walked over to the bar, where I scanned all of the people in the room, looking for the man who would be my date for the evening. Who was sitting alone, looking at their phone waiting for me to respond to their last text? From my viewpoint, I had two available options...a nice looking gentleman in a business suit with a flashy tie and nicely polished shoes or a very plain, tall, dorky fella in need of haircut and an overall makeover. I can only hope that I did a sufficient job of hiding the look on my face when the giant dork caught my eye and waved. And so began my evening with the Accountant.
I have to say, it wasn't all that bad. He offered up his seat at the bar, like a true gentleman and flagged the bar tender over to take my drink order. Paid for my beverage. When our table was ready, he took out my seat and ordered a fantastic bottle of wine to go with dinner. The conversation was relaxed and easy, and then I made a joke. The laugh that came from the person sitting in front of me made me want to run for the high hills! I was not only loud, but had this quality of being high pitched, nasal'y and throat'y all at the same time. I was literally the kind of laugh that makes you cringe from the inside-out. I nervously chuckled, looked around the room to see that people's heads had actually turned and realized that this extreme laugh would take this guy down a long road of lonely unhappiness.
Laughing is like peeing. Once the seal is broken...
As the laughing Accountant grew more and more comfortable with me, the laugh grew louder and even more obnoxious to the point where I couldn't even look this guy in the face anymore! It didn't help that every single time I locked eyes with someone else in that room, they mouthed the words "Oh My God" to me! (OK - only one person actually did that, but still!) I even tried to approach the subject by mentioning that his laugh was very distinct and loud and that others in the restaurant were giving us looks - but dude didn't get the hint.
Dinner finally ended, after what seemed like hours, and I refused his offer to get a nightcap saying that I had to wake up early in the morning for work. He walked me to my car and of course, leaned in for a kiss. Playing defense, I moved a little to the left and offered up my cheek to his aggressive lips, then like Speedy Gonzalez, found my keys, hopped into my car and zoomed away!
Friend: "That date is no where near as bad as what you hinted it would be."
Me: "Yeah...I have no idea why, but I agreed to a second date."
Friend: "What?!"
Me: "I really have no explanation. Don't judge me."
Friend: "Too late."
A couple of days later, the laughing Accountant called my cell phone while I was walking out the door. I saw the first name, thought it was someone else - a very hot, single fireman that I had seen a month prior, and answered it with a very exuberant "Well hello there handsome!" I could practically hear the panting on the other end of the phone. Fuck. Excuses started entering in head in lightning speed. Family party, work function, death in the family, drinks with an old friend, gotta wash my hair...and I couldn't do it. He asked if I wanted to go to a hockey game and I said yes.
And you know what? I tried to make the most of it, I really did. I showed up on time and didn't run away when he went to go buy the tickets. (The thought did enter my mind, don't get me wrong.) He suggested that we pre-game at the local watering hole, and of course I was all about that. A little beer goes a long way. Women have beer goggles too! We go into the bar, sit down and order a drink when he drops a bomb on me...
"I can't wait to introduce you to my friends. They'll be here any minute."
What?! Wait!!! Back up and rewind.
This is a (sympathy) second date! You don't introduce anyone on a second date! And, then they arrived...a whole group of single nerds, minus one semi-decent looking guy. (I can't really be sure if he was actually semi-decent looking, because anyone who didn't look like they should wear a pocket protector would probably look hot next to this crowd.) It was that bad. Imagine my *surprise* when I found out that I would be the only girl in this group. Can you believe that none of these guys had a girlfriend? Yeah...me either. I also caught several of them looking at my boobs.
The introductions shed a lot of light on how the laughing Accountant thought of our relationship. "I'd like you guys to meet my girlfriend." Haha, not a chance buddy...right here, right now I am totally going to bust your bubble. "I'm not his girlfriend. We just met 3 days ago." I guess I was expecting a look of stunning realization, but it didn't happen. Oh my god...he thinks I'm his girlfriend. Oh my god...he's going to put his arm around me and try to kiss me in front of his friends. I drank my beer faster than I ever have in my entire life and luckily was able to get another one in a plastic cup to take with me into the arena for the game.
I wanted to get out of there so badly, I can't even explain it. Leaving before the game would look intentional - and even though I can be a big twat, I didn't want to hurt his feelings too much...I mean, the guy was nice and all. There had to be a way to let him down nicely. The whole nerd posse and I took our seats right in front of the glass in the arena. I was flanked between the semi-decent looking nerd and the laughing Accountant and kind of ended up positioning myself so that I was leaning towards the semi-decent looking nerd. Lucky for me, the laughing Accountant noticed that I was out of beer again (sometimes I think I may have a drinking problem), and jumped up to get me a refill. Um...thanks. At this rate, I'll be wasted by the end of the first period. I took that opportunity to think about my get-a-way plan and to flirt a little with the semi-decent nerd, who admitted that he hated hockey and was dragged to the game so that he could meet the laughing Accountant's new girlfriend. Seriously. That pretty much solidified the need for an escape plan...and the need was urgent.
The first period of the game was horrible. Not only did the laughing Accountant, well...laugh, but he was obviously not a hockey fan (or probably sports fan in general) and kept trying to chat it up with me, and because my head was turned trying to follow the action, he felt the need to get very close. And, that's when I smelled his breath, which was previously masked with distance. The smell was so bad that it made me gag twice. And for those who know me, know that I have a horrible gag reflex. I worked very hard not to toss my cookies and should actually get an award for that! I finally had to make a joke about wanting to watch the game and that we could commence such chatter during intermission, if I made it that long.
My mind was racing...who can I send to the hospital for the night? Will karma bite my ass hard for this? Do I care? I mean, I'm trying to get out of this date without being so in his face about it so that his friends don't think that he's a big(ger) loser than them. That makes me nice, right? Yes...that's what we're going with. In the end, I decided that no one would be taking a fake trip to the hospital, but that I would be getting a very urgent call of help from one of my best friends. At the end of the first intermission, when the laughing Accountant excused himself to go to the restroom, I texted my friend and told her to call me in about 5 minutes because I needed a rescue. As perfect as timing could be, my phone rang just as he returned to our seats.
Me: "Are you OK?"
Rescuer: "Yeah."
Me: "Oh no! I'm on a date. But don't worry...no...I'll pick you up. Are you sure you're alright though?"
Rescuer: "He's that bad?"
Me: "I'm leaving now and will be there in a couple of minutes. Hang tight."
Rescuer: "You're going to hell."
There was no need for a prolonged explanation...he heard that I had a friend in trouble. He was very concerned - more so than I thought he would be - and offered to walk me to my car. I calmed him down (ha!) and told him to enjoy the rest of the game and that we would be in touch.** With a new-found stride in my step, I practically skipped up the stairs of the arena a free girl again!
Me: "I'm still coming over, you know."
Rescuer: "I've already opened up a bottle of wine for us."
*Admittedly, Craigslist is creepy. I started using it when I was apartment shopping, and then I discovered the underbelly of gay penis. I can't believe that men post their junk on an internet site that is open to everyone and their mother, and the pictures includes their face! I also want to thank all of my friends for watching "The Craigslist Killer" and being worried about my well-being. I (almost) always text a friend with the name of my date and any identifying information about them, as well as the place we are meeting up in case I ever go missing.
**The laughing Accountant did call later that night and left a message for me on my voice mail, which I never returned. I'm pretty sure that he was able to see through my facade since I'm a horrible liar.
Me: "Huh? Why? It's a good job."
Friend: "Oh, I know...but people think that all accountants are boring and I don't want to be stereotyped."
Me: "I think YOU are the only accountant I know that's an exception to the stereotype. I went out with an accountant once."
Friend: "Was he a tax accountant?"
Me: "Yeah."
Friend: "And how was it?"
Me: "So..."
...luckily, one of my best friends in the whole wide world "was in a situation" and "needed me to come over." You can subtract a couple of karma points on this one.
Let me back it up a little. When I started to date on-line, I used Craigslist.* I have absolutely no tolerance for stupid people who don't know the difference between there, their and they're, so when I saw an ad that was written in proper English, with proper punctuation I kinda got a little excited and reached out to this person. He was a small business tax accountant. We emailed for a bit making small talk until he finally asked me out on a date a couple of days later. I didn't expect him to bust out reservations to one of the fanciest places in town - and that is exactly what he did! To say that I was impressed was an understatement. Maybe I ended up roping the mother load!!!
It felt wonderful to dress up in nice clothes and killer heels in anticipation of a wonderful dinner prepared by one of the hottest chefs in town. I checked my coat and walked over to the bar, where I scanned all of the people in the room, looking for the man who would be my date for the evening. Who was sitting alone, looking at their phone waiting for me to respond to their last text? From my viewpoint, I had two available options...a nice looking gentleman in a business suit with a flashy tie and nicely polished shoes or a very plain, tall, dorky fella in need of haircut and an overall makeover. I can only hope that I did a sufficient job of hiding the look on my face when the giant dork caught my eye and waved. And so began my evening with the Accountant.
I have to say, it wasn't all that bad. He offered up his seat at the bar, like a true gentleman and flagged the bar tender over to take my drink order. Paid for my beverage. When our table was ready, he took out my seat and ordered a fantastic bottle of wine to go with dinner. The conversation was relaxed and easy, and then I made a joke. The laugh that came from the person sitting in front of me made me want to run for the high hills! I was not only loud, but had this quality of being high pitched, nasal'y and throat'y all at the same time. I was literally the kind of laugh that makes you cringe from the inside-out. I nervously chuckled, looked around the room to see that people's heads had actually turned and realized that this extreme laugh would take this guy down a long road of lonely unhappiness.
Laughing is like peeing. Once the seal is broken...
As the laughing Accountant grew more and more comfortable with me, the laugh grew louder and even more obnoxious to the point where I couldn't even look this guy in the face anymore! It didn't help that every single time I locked eyes with someone else in that room, they mouthed the words "Oh My God" to me! (OK - only one person actually did that, but still!) I even tried to approach the subject by mentioning that his laugh was very distinct and loud and that others in the restaurant were giving us looks - but dude didn't get the hint.
Dinner finally ended, after what seemed like hours, and I refused his offer to get a nightcap saying that I had to wake up early in the morning for work. He walked me to my car and of course, leaned in for a kiss. Playing defense, I moved a little to the left and offered up my cheek to his aggressive lips, then like Speedy Gonzalez, found my keys, hopped into my car and zoomed away!
Friend: "That date is no where near as bad as what you hinted it would be."
Me: "Yeah...I have no idea why, but I agreed to a second date."
Friend: "What?!"
Me: "I really have no explanation. Don't judge me."
Friend: "Too late."
A couple of days later, the laughing Accountant called my cell phone while I was walking out the door. I saw the first name, thought it was someone else - a very hot, single fireman that I had seen a month prior, and answered it with a very exuberant "Well hello there handsome!" I could practically hear the panting on the other end of the phone. Fuck. Excuses started entering in head in lightning speed. Family party, work function, death in the family, drinks with an old friend, gotta wash my hair...and I couldn't do it. He asked if I wanted to go to a hockey game and I said yes.
And you know what? I tried to make the most of it, I really did. I showed up on time and didn't run away when he went to go buy the tickets. (The thought did enter my mind, don't get me wrong.) He suggested that we pre-game at the local watering hole, and of course I was all about that. A little beer goes a long way. Women have beer goggles too! We go into the bar, sit down and order a drink when he drops a bomb on me...
"I can't wait to introduce you to my friends. They'll be here any minute."
What?! Wait!!! Back up and rewind.
This is a (sympathy) second date! You don't introduce anyone on a second date! And, then they arrived...a whole group of single nerds, minus one semi-decent looking guy. (I can't really be sure if he was actually semi-decent looking, because anyone who didn't look like they should wear a pocket protector would probably look hot next to this crowd.) It was that bad. Imagine my *surprise* when I found out that I would be the only girl in this group. Can you believe that none of these guys had a girlfriend? Yeah...me either. I also caught several of them looking at my boobs.
The introductions shed a lot of light on how the laughing Accountant thought of our relationship. "I'd like you guys to meet my girlfriend." Haha, not a chance buddy...right here, right now I am totally going to bust your bubble. "I'm not his girlfriend. We just met 3 days ago." I guess I was expecting a look of stunning realization, but it didn't happen. Oh my god...he thinks I'm his girlfriend. Oh my god...he's going to put his arm around me and try to kiss me in front of his friends. I drank my beer faster than I ever have in my entire life and luckily was able to get another one in a plastic cup to take with me into the arena for the game.
I wanted to get out of there so badly, I can't even explain it. Leaving before the game would look intentional - and even though I can be a big twat, I didn't want to hurt his feelings too much...I mean, the guy was nice and all. There had to be a way to let him down nicely. The whole nerd posse and I took our seats right in front of the glass in the arena. I was flanked between the semi-decent looking nerd and the laughing Accountant and kind of ended up positioning myself so that I was leaning towards the semi-decent looking nerd. Lucky for me, the laughing Accountant noticed that I was out of beer again (sometimes I think I may have a drinking problem), and jumped up to get me a refill. Um...thanks. At this rate, I'll be wasted by the end of the first period. I took that opportunity to think about my get-a-way plan and to flirt a little with the semi-decent nerd, who admitted that he hated hockey and was dragged to the game so that he could meet the laughing Accountant's new girlfriend. Seriously. That pretty much solidified the need for an escape plan...and the need was urgent.
The first period of the game was horrible. Not only did the laughing Accountant, well...laugh, but he was obviously not a hockey fan (or probably sports fan in general) and kept trying to chat it up with me, and because my head was turned trying to follow the action, he felt the need to get very close. And, that's when I smelled his breath, which was previously masked with distance. The smell was so bad that it made me gag twice. And for those who know me, know that I have a horrible gag reflex. I worked very hard not to toss my cookies and should actually get an award for that! I finally had to make a joke about wanting to watch the game and that we could commence such chatter during intermission, if I made it that long.
My mind was racing...who can I send to the hospital for the night? Will karma bite my ass hard for this? Do I care? I mean, I'm trying to get out of this date without being so in his face about it so that his friends don't think that he's a big(ger) loser than them. That makes me nice, right? Yes...that's what we're going with. In the end, I decided that no one would be taking a fake trip to the hospital, but that I would be getting a very urgent call of help from one of my best friends. At the end of the first intermission, when the laughing Accountant excused himself to go to the restroom, I texted my friend and told her to call me in about 5 minutes because I needed a rescue. As perfect as timing could be, my phone rang just as he returned to our seats.
Me: "Are you OK?"
Rescuer: "Yeah."
Me: "Oh no! I'm on a date. But don't worry...no...I'll pick you up. Are you sure you're alright though?"
Rescuer: "He's that bad?"
Me: "I'm leaving now and will be there in a couple of minutes. Hang tight."
Rescuer: "You're going to hell."
There was no need for a prolonged explanation...he heard that I had a friend in trouble. He was very concerned - more so than I thought he would be - and offered to walk me to my car. I calmed him down (ha!) and told him to enjoy the rest of the game and that we would be in touch.** With a new-found stride in my step, I practically skipped up the stairs of the arena a free girl again!
Me: "I'm still coming over, you know."
Rescuer: "I've already opened up a bottle of wine for us."
*Admittedly, Craigslist is creepy. I started using it when I was apartment shopping, and then I discovered the underbelly of gay penis. I can't believe that men post their junk on an internet site that is open to everyone and their mother, and the pictures includes their face! I also want to thank all of my friends for watching "The Craigslist Killer" and being worried about my well-being. I (almost) always text a friend with the name of my date and any identifying information about them, as well as the place we are meeting up in case I ever go missing.
**The laughing Accountant did call later that night and left a message for me on my voice mail, which I never returned. I'm pretty sure that he was able to see through my facade since I'm a horrible liar.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Mr. Abercrombie
Have you ever looked at a guy and thought "no way is he going to respond to me at all?" I have. Now, I certainly don't think I'm an ugly duckling, but I am well aware of the species of man that I attract and that species usually doesn't include men that have Adonis blood running through their veins. It's very important to know you're audience, or "league" as I like to say from time to time.
This guy though. Man! He was way out of my league. Just look at any Abercrombie ad, if you dare, because you know...it's practically porn - that's him to a tee. Drop dead looks, killer body, tall, dark, well spoken, employed, no baggage. I thought about contacting him for a week before I came up with the courage to do so, expecting rejection. I hit "send" on the message, and waited. I saw him glance at my profile a day later. Then, success! A message back! I opened it, bracing for a "you're not really my type" kind of response and after I picked my jaw up off the floor, realized that he was asking me out!
You think I would've been excited about going on a date with Mr. Abercrombie, but no. I started thinking about it. And judging.
This guy obviously knew he was hot. According to his profile, his longest relationship was less than a year, probably because he's so god damned selfish that any woman in her right mind wouldn't put up with that shit for more than a couple of months. I was immediately thinking that this guy most definitely relies on his looks to get him through life. Even though he wrote well in chatting with me, he didn't really say all that much. His words seemed...empty - to the point and without much elaboration. In my head, I was thinking that he probably takes longer to get ready on a daily basis than I do, because I'm sure it takes a lot of effort to be that pretty. And product. I'm sure it takes a whole shit ton of bronzer, moisturizer, hair gel and cologne to pull the look off. Plus, hours of GTL.
As we were chatting, and I was growing more and more weary of meeting him, he let it drop that he had a 9-incher.
Let that sink in for a moment. A hot hunk with a huge penis? Yeah...not likely. In my experience, guys who have big members don't have to talk about how big their junk is. They like the "oh my god" reaction when disrobing in front of you for the first time. Mr. Abercrombie also wouldn't back up his grandiose statement with a picture, which I know is RULE 7, but like I said before, there isn't a rule I haven't broken (in triplicate at least). He did send a picture of this 12-pack abs. Not 6-pack, 12-pack. I counted after I wiped up the drool.
Date night came. I decided that I was going to put minimal effort into the whole process. Clean hair, natural make-up, nice jeans with a top that wasn't too revealing. I looked very girl next door, very...me. I knew that I wouldn't be uncomfortable or fidgety all night and looking like myself created an air of extreme confidence that I had no problem carrying on.
I arrived at our meeting spot exactly at our agreed upon meeting time. And waited. After 10 minutes, I got a text from him saying that he was around the corner and NOT TO LEAVE - in caps. (I was just going to pack it in and call it quits.) Just as he promised, he came into the bar looking like the most beautiful human on the planet. He spotted me, came over, put his hand on my back and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Oh! HELLO!!! Nice greeting. I immediately started to feel badly for pre-judging him. Don't worry, that feeling didn't last long. I mean, this is a blog about dating horror stories, right?!
Mr. Abercrombie took my drink order and headed to the bar. In a hot second he was back with two brews. Ahhh...liquid courage! How wonderful you taste! We started talking, and the conversation was great as long as it was all about him. It didn't take very long for me to realize that my 6th sense was right on the money. The guy was a self-absorbed asshole. I played along, and by the second drink found out that not only does he spend all of his free time working out (shocker!) but that he also still lives with his parents and tried out for the Jersey Shore! Bwhahahaha! I may have chuckled a little under my breath. Don't get me wrong, I like Jersey Shore, but who the fuck wants to be one of those little brats?! The women in bar had the same reaction to Mr. Abercrombie's beauty that I had. I can not explain what it was like to watch grown women of all ages take the long way to the bathroom so they could get a glance at him, or accidentally "bump" his shoulder when passing our table. All the while, he kept a hand on my knee and his eyes on my face while making overtly sexual comments about us going back to my place. I know this guy wasn't going to offer me a lifetime of happiness, but one night of thrills might be kind of fun.
I had a tough choice to make. Do I stand strong, and leave him at "goodnight" or do I take him home and show him that average girls rock in bed? As one of my friends texted (which I checked while he was in the restroom at the bar), "go for it girl...I'm living vicariously thru you!" So, I did.
Mr. Abercrombie was surprisingly overjoyed with the invitation and grabbed my hand, practically dragging me out of the bar to our cars. "Don't drive too fast and lose me" he said as he pulled me into him, kissing me on the mouth with some of the most passionate force I've felt in a long time. I drove slow. I used my blinkers. I forced myself not to chain smoke in the 10 minute drive to my place. And, then it hit me! I'm going to have to get naked in front of him! Ahhhhh!!!!! His perfect body will be rubbing up against my soft belly and ass...if I lean a little in one direction, a roll will pop out and highlight that last 10 pounds I've been *thinking* about working off. I know! I'll light some candles. That will ease the pain. We parked in my driveway and before I could even open my car door, Mr. Abercrombie was waiting with a smile that could charm the pants off anyone. I checked my watch. It was 10:19pm. We had until midnight before I turned into a pumpkin.
I let us in, found some matches, lite a couple of tea lights and got naked. He laid on the bed staring at me as I undressed in the candle light. I climbed in next to him and headed down south. I barely got my bearings about me before he grabbed my arms and pulled me up. He slid into a condom, then slid into me, got a good solid two strokes out and came. I was beyond stunned. Did that really just happen? Less than 30 seconds, start to finish?! What the fuckitty fuck?!?! Now, I have to add this loser onto my partner list...I mean it was barely sex. Can I get a pass on this one?
He excused himself to the bathroom to clean up (not that there was much to clean up), and before he got back I promptly got dressed and laid his clothes out for him. There would be no cuddling or small talk - just get the hell out of my house and let me call my friends, who must know about this night IMMEDIATELY. I made up some excuse about having to be at the office wicked early and handed him his pants. Luckily, he took the hint, got dressed and locked the front door behind him. Time he left...10:24pm. That's right, look back up a couple of paragraphs and do the math. Now think about the fact that he used a condom, which guys say numbs them down a little. Ha!
Poor Mr. Abercrombie. It may not have been the self-centered attitude, or the fact that there was no substance to his personality, or that he lived at home with mom and dad or tried out for Jersey Shore. All of those things a woman can overlook when extreme beauty is involved. (Kidding, I think.) But, 30-second sex? With no apology for being a two-pump chump? Get the fuck out! No woman is going to sacrifice her vagina's pleasure receptors just because you make good arm candy!
So, in closing I would just like to say...*I* am so way out of *his* league. Or I took his V-card.
(Miz Adventure's note after the post: Mr. Abercrombie has been lighting up my phone since the beginning of writing this blog post. In true asshole fashion, he would like me to "make some time to fit him in...my mouth." I guess handing him his clothes that night, not calling for weeks and blocking him from my profile didn't get the point across sufficiently. I wonder if telling him that his dick isn't anywhere close to 9 inches will do the trick? No wonder I didn't get that picture from him.)
This guy though. Man! He was way out of my league. Just look at any Abercrombie ad, if you dare, because you know...it's practically porn - that's him to a tee. Drop dead looks, killer body, tall, dark, well spoken, employed, no baggage. I thought about contacting him for a week before I came up with the courage to do so, expecting rejection. I hit "send" on the message, and waited. I saw him glance at my profile a day later. Then, success! A message back! I opened it, bracing for a "you're not really my type" kind of response and after I picked my jaw up off the floor, realized that he was asking me out!
You think I would've been excited about going on a date with Mr. Abercrombie, but no. I started thinking about it. And judging.
This guy obviously knew he was hot. According to his profile, his longest relationship was less than a year, probably because he's so god damned selfish that any woman in her right mind wouldn't put up with that shit for more than a couple of months. I was immediately thinking that this guy most definitely relies on his looks to get him through life. Even though he wrote well in chatting with me, he didn't really say all that much. His words seemed...empty - to the point and without much elaboration. In my head, I was thinking that he probably takes longer to get ready on a daily basis than I do, because I'm sure it takes a lot of effort to be that pretty. And product. I'm sure it takes a whole shit ton of bronzer, moisturizer, hair gel and cologne to pull the look off. Plus, hours of GTL.
As we were chatting, and I was growing more and more weary of meeting him, he let it drop that he had a 9-incher.
Let that sink in for a moment. A hot hunk with a huge penis? Yeah...not likely. In my experience, guys who have big members don't have to talk about how big their junk is. They like the "oh my god" reaction when disrobing in front of you for the first time. Mr. Abercrombie also wouldn't back up his grandiose statement with a picture, which I know is RULE 7, but like I said before, there isn't a rule I haven't broken (in triplicate at least). He did send a picture of this 12-pack abs. Not 6-pack, 12-pack. I counted after I wiped up the drool.
Date night came. I decided that I was going to put minimal effort into the whole process. Clean hair, natural make-up, nice jeans with a top that wasn't too revealing. I looked very girl next door, very...me. I knew that I wouldn't be uncomfortable or fidgety all night and looking like myself created an air of extreme confidence that I had no problem carrying on.
I arrived at our meeting spot exactly at our agreed upon meeting time. And waited. After 10 minutes, I got a text from him saying that he was around the corner and NOT TO LEAVE - in caps. (I was just going to pack it in and call it quits.) Just as he promised, he came into the bar looking like the most beautiful human on the planet. He spotted me, came over, put his hand on my back and gave me a kiss on the cheek. Oh! HELLO!!! Nice greeting. I immediately started to feel badly for pre-judging him. Don't worry, that feeling didn't last long. I mean, this is a blog about dating horror stories, right?!
Mr. Abercrombie took my drink order and headed to the bar. In a hot second he was back with two brews. Ahhh...liquid courage! How wonderful you taste! We started talking, and the conversation was great as long as it was all about him. It didn't take very long for me to realize that my 6th sense was right on the money. The guy was a self-absorbed asshole. I played along, and by the second drink found out that not only does he spend all of his free time working out (shocker!) but that he also still lives with his parents and tried out for the Jersey Shore! Bwhahahaha! I may have chuckled a little under my breath. Don't get me wrong, I like Jersey Shore, but who the fuck wants to be one of those little brats?! The women in bar had the same reaction to Mr. Abercrombie's beauty that I had. I can not explain what it was like to watch grown women of all ages take the long way to the bathroom so they could get a glance at him, or accidentally "bump" his shoulder when passing our table. All the while, he kept a hand on my knee and his eyes on my face while making overtly sexual comments about us going back to my place. I know this guy wasn't going to offer me a lifetime of happiness, but one night of thrills might be kind of fun.
I had a tough choice to make. Do I stand strong, and leave him at "goodnight" or do I take him home and show him that average girls rock in bed? As one of my friends texted (which I checked while he was in the restroom at the bar), "go for it girl...I'm living vicariously thru you!" So, I did.
Mr. Abercrombie was surprisingly overjoyed with the invitation and grabbed my hand, practically dragging me out of the bar to our cars. "Don't drive too fast and lose me" he said as he pulled me into him, kissing me on the mouth with some of the most passionate force I've felt in a long time. I drove slow. I used my blinkers. I forced myself not to chain smoke in the 10 minute drive to my place. And, then it hit me! I'm going to have to get naked in front of him! Ahhhhh!!!!! His perfect body will be rubbing up against my soft belly and ass...if I lean a little in one direction, a roll will pop out and highlight that last 10 pounds I've been *thinking* about working off. I know! I'll light some candles. That will ease the pain. We parked in my driveway and before I could even open my car door, Mr. Abercrombie was waiting with a smile that could charm the pants off anyone. I checked my watch. It was 10:19pm. We had until midnight before I turned into a pumpkin.
I let us in, found some matches, lite a couple of tea lights and got naked. He laid on the bed staring at me as I undressed in the candle light. I climbed in next to him and headed down south. I barely got my bearings about me before he grabbed my arms and pulled me up. He slid into a condom, then slid into me, got a good solid two strokes out and came. I was beyond stunned. Did that really just happen? Less than 30 seconds, start to finish?! What the fuckitty fuck?!?! Now, I have to add this loser onto my partner list...I mean it was barely sex. Can I get a pass on this one?
He excused himself to the bathroom to clean up (not that there was much to clean up), and before he got back I promptly got dressed and laid his clothes out for him. There would be no cuddling or small talk - just get the hell out of my house and let me call my friends, who must know about this night IMMEDIATELY. I made up some excuse about having to be at the office wicked early and handed him his pants. Luckily, he took the hint, got dressed and locked the front door behind him. Time he left...10:24pm. That's right, look back up a couple of paragraphs and do the math. Now think about the fact that he used a condom, which guys say numbs them down a little. Ha!
Poor Mr. Abercrombie. It may not have been the self-centered attitude, or the fact that there was no substance to his personality, or that he lived at home with mom and dad or tried out for Jersey Shore. All of those things a woman can overlook when extreme beauty is involved. (Kidding, I think.) But, 30-second sex? With no apology for being a two-pump chump? Get the fuck out! No woman is going to sacrifice her vagina's pleasure receptors just because you make good arm candy!
So, in closing I would just like to say...*I* am so way out of *his* league. Or I took his V-card.
(Miz Adventure's note after the post: Mr. Abercrombie has been lighting up my phone since the beginning of writing this blog post. In true asshole fashion, he would like me to "make some time to fit him in...my mouth." I guess handing him his clothes that night, not calling for weeks and blocking him from my profile didn't get the point across sufficiently. I wonder if telling him that his dick isn't anywhere close to 9 inches will do the trick? No wonder I didn't get that picture from him.)
Monday, March 28, 2011
A Brief Welcome
There are a ton of self-help books that try to tell us ladies how to properly date to land the most perfect man in the world, such as He's Just Not That Into You, Men Are From Mars, Women Are From Venus and of course, The Rules According to JWOWW. (I wish I was kidding on that last one.) What none of these books touches on are Internet dating rules. It's pretty much a free for all out there. On-line dating is essentially blind dating, but without whatever "friend" who arranged such date, giving him their stamp of approval beforehand. You browse pictures and profiles until you find someone you'd like to spend a couple of hours with, then you instant message, or email, or for the truly daring individual, you exchange phone numbers and text each other until a meeting is secured and you tell all your friends you have a date with a really great guy! Sometimes, there's an actual phone call - which I do recommend for a variety of reasons. One being, the laugh. A person's laugh can be a big deal breaker for me. I'm not fond of jackals and their noises and if a guy has that laugh that gives you the same reaction as nails on a chalkboard, well at least you know you didn't waste your time cowering in some corner of a bar as he hoots and hollers loud and proud while you sink just a little deeper into yourself waiting until he turns his head so you can make a break to safety.
Thing is, there are rules.
The Rules According To Miz Adventures:
1. Read the fucking profiles! Beware of anyone who doesn't have a picture on their profile. It probably means he's a troll living under your nearest bridge with a bunch of billy goats. Also, if they can't use spell check on his description of himself then that person is a certifiable idiot. (I especially like when someone brags about being "inteligent" and intelligent is spelled wrong. I laugh a little inside.)
2. Make sure you have a couple of clothed full body shots of yourself handy. Guys always want to verify that you are a girl and that you're not a cow.
3. Quality over quantity. Don't contact every hot guy all in one day. There is not enough time in the day to respond to all those messages! And, chances are you are at work - and you shouldn't be logged in to an Internet dating site while on the job!
4. Set up an email account that isn't <yourname>@yahoo/hotmail/gmail.com. That's just dumb and probably doesn't need any explaining as to why.
5. Make sure that if you do text or call a guy, you get his full name and a picture of his face, and for Christ sakes...add him as a contact in your phone. This way, you don't confuse people you are talking to. There are a lot of "Mikes" and "Jasons" out there and if you want to avoid someone you deem as creepy, if you have 13 Mikes in your phone with no photos, you may make a mistake.
6. Talk to the person before meeting, live on the phone. Make sure he's a real guy! Make a joke, listen for the laugh, get a handle on his personality. Google him! Facebook him! Call the local police department and have them run a background check...just kidding. (Well, unless you can snag his social security number!)
7. Don't talk/text about sex! And, don't ever ask for a picture of his penis. It's slutty and opens a whole can of worms that can get you in trouble. And, on the same note - don't send naked, or semi-naked pictures to him!
8. ALWAYS meet in a public place! And, always tell a friend who you're meeting and where you will be. It's just a smart move.
9. Don't drink too much.
10. Keep your legs (and mouth, and asshole I guess) CLOSED to the public.
Unfortunately, I've broken every single rule, minus my number two, which I just threw in there so I would have an even ten rules to preach about. Let me repeat that...I have broken every single (major) rule in Internet dating. Sigh. Ladies - be safe above everything else. Use the brain that is inside your head and trust your instincts, and always...ALWAYS have a get away plan.
With all of that being said, I think you can see what direction this blog will be taking! For me, dating in general has gotten to the point where I hope for the worst date possible, just so I can add it to my list of fucked up, frankly awesome experiences with very questionable people that I wouldn't ever think of introducing to my friends, let alone my mom. I'm no longer on a quest to find love, but rather on a trail to happiness. If someone bumps into my path, great. If not, I'll continue to break hearts along the way.
Welcome to my blog of dating adventures, gone wrong.
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