Step #2 on the way to finding your true love.

The day after the Fail Date #1 just so happened to be Valentines Day.  Now, personally, I am a huge fan of this particular day.  Not because it means chocolate and roses and oh-my-god-kill-me sappiness, but because, when actually in a relationship, it gives me an excuse to buy super elaborate lingere in my favorite colors of red and pink.  Don’t get me wrong, I tend to do this Valentines Day or not but not the “excuse” part.  HOWEVER! when I am single it is almost depressing but not quite because it’s a made up holiday so, basically, you can all go fuck yourselves.

Don’t look at me like that…you know you’ll enjoy it.

All day I was debating whether or not I would go out because my father informed me earlier in the week that I always go out on Thursdays…leave it to him to know my schedule better than I know it myself.  By one in the afternoon I decided that I would ask the opinion of my trusty sidekick, Brain.  She and I were in the same position – we both kind of wanted to go out and kind of didn’t.  But it’s us which means that no matter what we do or where we go we have a damn good time so the decision was made to go to my bar.  It made sense because we both knew there would be absolutely no good looking men there so we wouldn’t have the desire to make ourselves feel any worse than we already did by flirting with uninterested men.

Once we are settled and happily sipping on our drinks the conversation unsurprisingly turns to men.  Brain had joined that lovely dating site we all love to make fun of but are secretly on, Plenty of Fish, and was at that very moment texting with a match that had some potential.  He was also, potentially, going to be joining us since he recently informed her of his close proximity to our bar.  After a picture taken, texts exchanged, and decisions made, he came over with one of the friends he had been out with.  He was instructed to bring along someone smart that I would be able to have an intelligent conversation with who was also my caliber.  Who does he bring with him?  Fucking Pony Boy.  Don’t worry, this wasn’t his actual name but when POF Guy showed up I could have sworn he introduced him as “Trotter.”  My mind jumped to trot which made me think of horses but this kid was so skinny and boyish that I knew he was no horse.  He was still a pony.  Once my brain comes up with a name for you, you are stuck with it for life.  For example, to anyone who reads this and knows me in person, please call my sister Mud Butt next time you see her.  That’d be great, thanks!

In all honesty, I didn’t give Pony Boy a shot in hell. I happened to be sitting in a spot that allowed me to view the window through which you can see people as they approach the front door and, having seen a picture of POF Guy that Brain showed me, I was fairly certain that I saw them walking in and I was horrified.  Pony Boy was roughly half the size of POF Guy in girth and a good foot shorter. Word to the wise, if you are trying to bring along a friend to impress a girl with, don’t bring someone that you can snap in two like a toothpick. It doesn’t make you or him look good. You look like an ass for bringing the a guy that makes you look amazing, and he basically doesn’t hold a candle to you since he could stand in your shadow and disappear. Lose/lose buddy. Good job!

I imagine that I had a looked a little like this when I extended my hand for handshakes:

Disgusted Pony

Pony. Pony Boy. Get it?
I’m so funny…

Bitch Sara had come out.  And trust me…you don’t want to deal with B.S.  Ever. I didn’t say anything but in my head I was screaming, “REALLY?!? YOU HAD NO OTHER OPTIONS?!?” I mean hell, I could have snapped him in half. No woman wants a man that is smaller than her. But, with a look from Brain, I attempted to be nice since we were moving from the bar to a table and I was forced to sit next to him.  Unfortunately, I found POF Guy rather attractive and couldn’t shake the feeling that I had met him before so most of the rest of my night there was spent looking at him and trying to figure out why I thought I knew him/avoiding any contact with Pony Boy.  At one point Pony Boy and Brain started arguing about sports…which is not something you do.  Make sure you note this: never argue with Brain, especially not about sports.  So, while Pony Boy was getting his ass verbally kicked, I did what I could to break it up and threw out the most random thing that came to mind, “I think unicorns exist!”  I yelled out at large.  Unfazed the sports argument continued but POF Guy picked it up and we had a conversation about the existence (or lack there of) of unicorns which sadly made me like him even more because I am slightly obsessed with unicorns.  After that I stayed as long as I could possibly handle it and practically bolted when I felt I had been there long enough.  But, of course, not before informing POF Guy that he had fucked up majorly with Pony Boy.  No, seriously.  Pony Boy went to the bar to get another drink and I looked POF Guy in the eye and said, “you fucked up.”  No reason to sugar coat such idiocy.

The next day I found out that POF Guy ended up being an asshole which made me sad since I thought he seemed like a pretty good guy aside from his serious lack of matchmaking skills.  I know, I know…I’m kind of a terrible person for being attracted to my friends potential match but I told you I was B.S. and I felt like I knew him.  Something drew me to him.  (That, and I’m a dumbass.  Mostly an ass….selectively dumb.)  So, after seeing the kind of man a person could find on POF I decided to create my own account!

Fast forward a week and Brain and I back at my bar talking about, what else?, men.  She had a new guy and I…had too many fucking men to count.  But if one more person messaged me with “your sexy” I was going to scream.  I wanted to respond with, “my sexy what?” but I knew they would actually reply and that would drive me even more insane so delete them I did, even if they did have yummy perfectly sculpted bodies.  Honestly, they would make me feel fat anyway so there would really be no point to ever meet them.  Anywhodaway, somehow the conversation landed on POF Guy and I told her how upset I was that he was a douche turd because I had felt like I knew him and felt a connection blah, idiocy, blah, stupidity, blah, I’m an asshole, blah.  She then gave me her blessing to seek him out and talk to him because, being the nice person that she is, figured that if she didn’t want him why not let me have him.  Since, as she knows quite well, I love assholes and apparently he was one.

After two days of texting and lots of disgustingly cute conversations about how we both felt like we had met/knew each other/maybe were together in another life, we decided to meet up on Saturday.  Now, I know good and well that I had already said that I felt like I had met him, but on Friday afternoon he kind of creeped me out by saying that he kept having this thought that felt more like a memory than an idea.  When I asked him what it was he said something along the lines of, “I picture you giving me a big hug, wrapping your legs around me, and squeezing tight like you want to mold yourself into me so that we become one.”  A little voice in my head spit out it’s shot (it was Friday, my brain was already at the bar), gagged a little, and screamed, “RUUUUNNNN!!!!”  I, of course, didn’t listen.  Instead I laughed it off and replied with the only response that didn’t imply being horrified: “like you said, maybe in another life.”  Is it just me (probably), or does that go a little above and beyond?  We had been conversing for less than 48 hours.  We had met briefly the week before when he was inebriated.  Also, I should remind you now, we were in a conveniently and strategically dimly lit bar.

Never.  Trust.  Bar lighting.  Why?  Well, on Saturday when I got to his place and watched as his face appeared around the door that little voice came back.  For a split second I almost listened to it and ran but thought that would be hella rude.  Especially after what I did to Dog Park…Mr. Perfect said it was pretty damn bitchy and, since he’s always right, it must be true.  I’m a bitch.  Sue me.

I’m not quite sure how the person I thought I saw at the bar resembled anything close to the guy standing behind the door. archerr-meme-generator-you-have-got-to-be-shitting-me-be02f5 I was completely nonplussed.  When I met him I was still nursing my first cranberry and vodka so I couldn’t blame it on beer goggles and I knew the lighting was dim but I swear to all that is good and great in my life, this was a completely different man.  Maybe I had been projecting my idea of what I thought POF Guy should look like when I met him.  If so, I have a fucking phenomenal imagination.  Honestly, I should get paid for this shit!

After he gave me a hug hello and I deftly avoided eye contact (since I could tell he was attempting to lean in for a kiss) we left to head to the Greek restaurant that, wait for it!……he had a Groupon for.  A Groupon.  As I have previously stated, I am a bitch, so you will have no problem believing that I found it a little odd and slightly annoying that he would use a coupon for a first date.  Generally, I love coupons.  I, in fact, use them all the time!  I admit to being a coupon clipper and penny pincher but… it was a first date.  On top of that he had never been to the place and didn’t even know where it was or the quality of the food.  Good plan, man.  Good plan.  A painful forty five minute drive and two u-turns later we arrived in the ghetto…I mean…at the restaurant.  Which was empty.  And dark.  They took us to a semi-circular table that he made me scoot into in an incredibly un-ladylike manner and then had to sit through more painful conversation about how we were soulmates.  Soulmates?  Really?  I already have a soulmate.  My soul is taken.  Get your own.

While we waited for the waitress to go run his credit card for our free meal (I honestly don’t understand why this was done) we discussed what we should be done next.  If you have ever met one of those guys who self-proclaims to be good at everything, then you have met POF Guy and you probably dislike his arrogance as much as I did.  Darts, pool, and bowling were thrown out there and I said I wasn’t opposed to the idea of bowling since I possess so little talent for it that the only thing to be derived from a round of my bowling is pure, unadulterated amusement.  Sounds good, right?  No.  No, he wanted us to be on equal footing.  What would put us on equal footing?  According to him, that would be golf.  Yeah.  Top Golf. At no point did I intend to inform him of my ten years of golf experience.  Noooope!  This was going to be fun.

Of course, it would be fun after the hour and a half wait.  Coffee, ooey gooey chocolate chip cookies, ice cream, and strawberries were consumed during this waiting period.  If I had been with someone I found remotely attractive or intriguing this would have been the perfect date…but it wasn’t.  At all.  And then, to top off the most awkward and drawn out date in the history of my dating career a very large group of his friends showed up, all of whom I got to meet knowing full and well that would be the first and last time I would ever see them.  The best part?  One of them offered me a writing job.  I am not shitting you here.  That actually happened.  The strangest part was that I had no problem turning it down flat.  Damn my new found happiness and contentment with life! (not really, I’m completely in love with it.  It’s amazing!)

Two hours later we are at our stall and he “allows” me to go first.  I won’t go into details, I’ll just show you pictures!

Game 1:

I did take a picture of his score but it seems to have gone missing, I do however remember that it was 48.  Technically he didn’t do too terrible, but, basically he sucked balls compared to me.  Not that sucking balls is a bad thing per se, you just shouldn’t do it in golf…or as a straight male.  That just goes against…it’s just wrong.

Top Golf Game 1

Me! To be fair…I have never done this well at Top Golf. I have also not played golf in over a year. This translates into: I’M FREAKIN AWESOME!!

Game 2:

Top Golf Game 2 Bad

This picture I kept. I mean really!

Top Golf Game 2

In three shots I had him beat for the whole game. I would call that being demolished.

He had paid for three games but after two my hand was protesting and I felt I had subjected myself to enough torture for the day so I suggested we leave.  Also, I wasn’t sure I could avoid contact with him for much longer.  He had been drinking and kept trying to scoot his way into my bubble; a bubble that I had made sure to expand for the day.  I made sure to float just shy of four feet away from him at all times.  I think he was beginning to notice.  He asked me why I didn’t help him with his swing since I let slip that I used to teach and I responded with all I could think of: “You didn’t ask.”  The truth might have been a bit harsh.  Nobody wants to hear that they inspire so much revulsion in a person the term “makes my skin crawl” doesn’t even begin to touch on it.

On the thirty minute drive back to his place I remained silent and he decided to point out how our being able to be comfortable in silence “meant something.”  He was right.  It meant I was counting down the seconds until I got to get in my car and leave so fast that my tires squeal so I couldn’t really bother myself with polite conversation.  When we finally reached the point where I could stop counting I told him I was just going to go home knowing good and well that he thought I would be coming in with him to…whatever.  Once again I had to say, “I’m gonna go now” because he kept drawing out the goodbye.  And the hug. Fucktard.  GET OFF ME! So I squealed my pretty little tires out of there and wondered once again how I could be so inept at dating.

Where does this story land us?

Step 2: Always trust that little voice in the back of your head!  When it tells you that something is wrong just listen.  Even if it is rude to leave – do it.  It’s alright to be a bitch every once in awhile, especially if it means you are listening to your intuition.

I thought, “hey, two fail dates must mean a good one is on the way. Right?”

Wrong.  So very, very wrong.  Just wait, it gets better!

-S

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About izinspiredtowrite

I daydream constantly. I read everything. I fall upstairs. I trip on flat surfaces. I ask lots of questions. I believe in something great. I love. I live. I am.

Posted on March 21, 2013, in Dating, Events, Life, Random, Thoughts and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. 2 Comments.

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