Category Archives: Events

Step #3 – Love is so close you can almost feel it!

Two fail dates and several conversations with POF “matches” later we come to fail date number three which is sadly not as interesting but probably the fail-y-est of fails.  He, as a person, I’m sure, is a very fine specimen of male…just not the specimen for me.

Fail Date Guy #3
To begin with I knew he wasn’t my type based on his pictures but, as I said in Step #1, I was trying to be more open minded and had not yet learned from my mistake in Step #1 so I wasn’t listening to the little voice in my head that kept erupting into paroxysms of laughter over my complete lack of dating competence.  Want to know the only reason I even answered his message on POF?  Because he was tall.  I swear.  That was the only reason.  Clearly this was doomed from the beginning.  I didn’t find him attractive, didn’t particularly like the conversations we had, and it took him a good three weeks to finally ask if I wanted to meet up.  Usually I get so fed up with carrying on in long conversations that I suggest meeting up after only a few exchanged messages; but for some reason, with him, I let it slide.  Okay, really!  Barely a paragraph into this and I already realize this was all my fault.  Poor guy…never stood a chance.  As Mr. Perfect pointed out to me in a recent discussion I am the bitch, the men are all fine.  I couldn’t deny that one, I knew it was the truth, but these still make for interesting reads.  And, honestly, who does that?  And by “that” I mean the things I pick out to share with you lucky readers!  Please, comment with corrections if I’m wrong, but what these guys do isn’t kosher, is it? (If you haven’t read Step #1 and Step #2 yet, please do and let me know because I am genuinely curious.  Am I just asking too much?  Is this in fact normal male behavior?)

So, three weeks and an uncomfortable amount of superficial conversation later, we have a date set up that we both agree will be very short.  He didn’t explain why he wouldn’t stay long but I knew I didn’t want it to go on for very long because of fail dates #1 and #2 – subtlety is not my strong suit and the longer I am around someone that I dislike the more difficult it becomes to hold on to the few tiny shreds of restraint I have remaining.  I become blunt with unfiltered speech which translates into being a royal, haughty bitch.  It’s actually quite impressive if you are used to my usual bubbly, affable self.  I can switch bitch mode on and off quickly, it’s a gift!

As soon as I got off work I headed to the meeting place that I had to come up with since, apparently, POF men are incapable of making decisions.  There I sat, alone at the bar, hoping that the hour I had to wait for him to get off work would pass swiftly and painlessly.  The bar began to fill up and soon I was not sitting alone and happy, I was instead flanked by one foul smelling gentleman and one obnoxious frat-tastic bachelor suffering a mid-life crisis.  Where before I had been content texting my soulmate and joking about how odd it must look for someone to be sitting alone and talking/laughing to themselves, I was now dealing with attempting to not overhear the crude comments coming from Mr. Mid-Life Crisis and practicing breathing through my mouth so I would be able to finish my beer without gagging off the stench emanating from the foul smelling gentleman.

Not soon enough my date informed me that he was finally off work and headed my way but asked how the bar was…how was the bar?  Well…how to put it?  I believe I responded with something like, “it was good when I got here but it is getting crowded.  I am no longer sitting alone!” Being the gentleman that he was he suggested switching venues and asked if I had any suggestions. Sure. Why not? Let me make another decision for you, dear sir.

I hadn’t planned on taking him to my bar knowing all that would occur was judgment from my friends but I was already fed up with him so I gave my suggestion. He agreed quickly enough but confessed he didn’t know where it was (even though he had already mentioned that he worked down the street from it…meaning he passed it every day) so he would still meet me where I was and then he would follow me to the final destination. (<– get it?!? okay, okay, I know. I’m a dork.)

As I continue to sit at the bar I shift my gaze between the bartender whose attention I am desperately attempting to capture and the door whose opening and closing could potentially mean time for a great escape from my none too pleasant neighbors. Twenty minutes later my tab is paid, my glass is empty, and I no longer care who is walking through the door because all I want to know is how it is taking him so long if he was actually where he said he was. And then my phone buzzes. It’s him. He is sitting in the parking lot waiting for me to come out.

What. The. Fuck?

The minute I open the door I see him in his champagne compact, idling across the way, staring at his phone. Feeling a tad creepy I walk up to his window and cough to get his attention. After pointing out my car and once again establishing that he would follow me, we make our exit. Unfortunately it was prime traffic time and what should have take five minutes took twenty and I had lost all patience by the time parking was completed.

Upon finally picking out a booth and ordering our drinks I was able to fully observe (and, if I am being COMPLETELY honest, judge) my newest suitor. There was unfortunately nothing I found attractive about him. Generally beards give me a little happy feeling in my nether regions but this one was attached to a face that I couldn’t even invent any good will towards. He reminded of my moms best friend’s husband growing up. This is not good. Not good at all. You don’t want someone that reminds you of the father of your first ever crush (I was young and he was older and basically the only male I knew since I was home schooled and spend 90% of my time in the gym practicing gymnastics…it’s awkward, I know) in almost every way including the way his lips slowly moved across his disturbingly large teeth as he smiled. Or smirked. I honestly couldn’t distinguish.

I can’t say that the conversation was in any way lacking but what was lacking was his ability to show emotion. He had one face and he kept it on practically the whole time. The only effect alcohol had on him was to make his mouth open just a tad bit wider when he spoke as if the more he opened his mouth the funnier he would be because he seemed amused by himself when this would happen.  Somehow we made it so far in conversation that my Elf showed up to work and we ended up moving from the booth to the patio bar where she was working. At this point his charm really began to work its magic. You know that line that every bartender has heard more than once on a daily basis.  The one that makes everyone around the offending person it groan? The one that goes a little something like, “you don’t need a tip! You get to look at me!” The look Elf and I shared could have turned him to stone had we made better use of it.

You're an idiot...

You’re an idiot…

And then, after his knee slapper he throws his head back and lets out a high pitched cackle which I think was supposed to be a laugh but it was so disturbing that I immediately attempted to eliminate all memory of it. Clearly it didn’t work. I will never forget the sound that man made. I fear for my personal and physical safety. THIS is my dating life…

When I just couldn’t take any more, and we each had three shots and shared chips and queso, I decided to end the date. And then this happened:  I was given the honor of paying for everything that we had consumed both liquid and solid at the patio bar. I am one lucky girl. Can I tell you how much I enjoy paying for things that other people ordered for me? It tickles my fancy! Also, I wanted to kill him. Once again though, as with Fail dates #1 and #2, he did not get the hint. He texted me on the way home and said he had a great time and would love to do it again. I responded with, “I don’t really think so. Sorry.” And that was the night I decided I was done with dating. Period! Over it!

Until the next guy that came up to me at the bar *coughcough* I keep my word so well…

So, where does this leave us?

Step 3: When you feel absolutely no connection to the person and you can’t for the life of you pick out one redeeming quality about the person after an hour, go home. Don’t waste either one of your time. Quit while you’re ahead and admit defeat. It is much better than spending $60 dollars at the end of the night on a person who makes a pretty good doppelganger for every corporate America clone in existence. There is nothing wrong with admitting that you don’t like a person.

Now that I have proved that dating is not my cup of tea I think cutting my losses would be a good idea. That is until I meet this next guy that will bring me to fail date #4. He is the best one yet. Mr. Perfect LOVED this guy!! It was a mutual attraction.

-S

May your week be filled with blasphemous actions, sanguine expectations, and lost inhibitions.

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On officially being closer to 30 than I am to 20 and other fun things brought to you from Saraville

Beautiful-birthday-cupckes

On the day of that marked the 26 anniversary of my birth, I sat in my leopard hoodie footie and spent the day listening to the rain, reading, making pizza, eating cupcakes, and feeling no closer to being an adult that I did on the day I turned 18.   Earlier in the week my friends asked how I would be celebrating I would simply laugh, and smile.  Nothing.  I would be doing nothing for my birthday.  “But why?!?” They chorused loudly, unable to understand my protestations of small fetes or intimate dinners.  The truth is, that for the first time, I just didn’t feel like admitting that I was another year older.  So what did I end up doing?  Shopping with my sister and pizza making with my family.  And you know what?  It has been a pretty darn great birthday.  I got three new pairs of shoes, several comic books, a book on etymology, two linguistic books (my latest and greatest interest), a very large novel, and a visit to Build-A-Bear that enabled me to add one more My Little Pony to my collection.  I may now be 26 but my taste still lies with that of an 8 year old – that now makes three My Little Ponies (in stuffed animal form, at least) and god knows how many comic books.

My birthday gifts to me!

       My birthday gifts to me!

Admitting my age is not fun anymore but I must admit that the year leading up to this birthday has been filled with purpose and drive.  No longer do I sit around wondering what  I will do with my life, instead I have been taking steps towards fulfilling my life goals and actually crossing items off that nice long task list I have.  It only took me eight long years to come up with my life goals and, honestly, they have changed one or two thousand times but I finally think I have landed on some solid goals that actually go along with everything that I stand for and want to accomplish.  My first major step towards achieving these goals was deciding on a major and enrolling in school again.  Check and check.  I will officially be starting school again on the 25th with a major in Green Interior and Architectural Design and will be talking to a different school about enrolling in a program that will allow me to study business with an emphasis in innovation and entrepreneurial studies.  Focusing on just one thing is just not my style…I thought about only one major but that lasted about as long as it took for me to register for classes.

In my productive state of school applying and class registering I decided I should add even more fun learning activities to my life because surely I had time to, say, learn a new language!  But where would I find this time?  I asked myself after a few days of NOT doing anything nearly as productive as I had so made myself believe I was capable of.  Where did the time go?  What did I spend my days doing?  How do people get so much done?!?  I decided it was time to take account of what I did during my days and document exactly what consumed my oh-so-precious time. Facebook.  That’s what.  Do you ever make not of how many times a day you check your Facebook?  Or how many times you want to just look it at it for a few minutes because your phone has alerted you to some form of activity on your page and 20 minutes later you realize that it’s, well, 20 minutes later and you are now far too informed on your friends lives inner workings.  What’s a girl to do?  My initial idea was to deactivate my Facebook altogether because who needs it?!? Not me!  Or so I thought.  Apparently my friends and, more importantly, my sister, disagree.  What’s the next best thing?  Removing the app from my phone.  Have I done this yet? No. Instead I have switched from checking Facebook when I’m bored to checking my email and actually reading the information contained in the numerous newsletters I convinced myself contained information I would be interested in but never actually took the time to peruse.  Guess what?  I am interested in the information I have been ignoring for all these years.  For a person so thirsty for knowledge I sure have been allowing myself to claim ignorance far longer than I anyone should.  FOCUS, Sara, focus!!  This has become my new mantra, especially while at work.  Why? 

It’s simple, really.  To continue my quest for productivity (kind of) I give you…My Current Obsessions!!! They are as follows:

Erin Condren logo1) Erin Condren – I had been wanting a planner for awhile feeling that if I was able to write down everything that came to mind as it came to mind that I would be much more productive (I’m sorry, this post has a key term).  I have had my Erin Condren Life Planner for a week and I have already seen a difference.  I know what you’re probably thinking, “don’t you have a phone?”  Yes, yes I do have a phone.  And I have often written down random ideas and made many a list.  But guess what…there it stays. In my note app.  Sitting in wait.  Instead I bought THIS beauty and now get to be inspired each and every day by bright, happy colors and inspirational quotes.  And what girl doesn’t love that?!?

2) Radio Lingua – After thinking I could use the all knowing Google to find a language program based solely in audio lessons I gave up and decided I would take a different approach.  Enter – PODCASTS!!!! I have never listened to a podcast in my life so I wasn’t really sure if this would be my pot of gold or not.  Turns out it was.  The first language program I came across was Coffee Break French. Had coffee not been in the name I probably wouldn’t have been interested.  The best part?  You can buy the lessons and get pdf files and videos that correspond with each podcast.  All for much, much, cheaper than that certain uber popular yellow boxed language program.  They also have OneMinute [insert your desired language here] and it only cost…like…practically nothing!! OMG, I want. My two favorite language options? Flemish and Luxembourgish!!!! That is in addition to my top two desired languages to learn – Arabic and Russian.  You can buy all 21 language courses as a bundle. HAPPENING!!

pee-poo-duo-ihop3) Pee and Poo – If you know me really too incredibly well then you know how oddly fascinated I am with…how do I put this delicately?  The inner workings of the human body including the all important BM’s.  I am oddly connected with my body and always know what I need to put in it to cure whatever ails me at the moment.  Except ennui.  Nothing seems to help ennui.  Except chocolate.  But only until it’s gone.  Anyway.  I found Pee and Poo and have wanted them ever since!! How cute are they?!? I mean, I’m already potty trained so I don’t need them for their intended purpose, but I do still enjoy a good stuffed animal and to be completely honest I would love to be able to randomly yell, “I need my poo!!” in a moment of anxiety induced panic that results in an immediate desire to be embracing something plush and comforting.

4) The perfect chocolate chip cookie – I have been on the search for the perfect recipe and therefore cookie for years now.  Recently I tried the recipe from the Cooks Country baking cookbook and they sucked (just an fyi here, the link doesn’t really work since you have to sign up to use their website, but if you happen to be a Cooks Country member then you will be privy to the recipe).  They were not ooey gooey like they were supposed to be and they tasted of something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.  My parents thought they were just fine, but my sister and I are harsher critics. I am thinking of trying the New York Times recipe next.  If anyone has suggestions, please feel free to bombard me with recipe links.

5) Naked Truth Beauty Blog – I have always enjoyed making things on my own.  I hate the idea of spending money on something I could do or make myself and it just so happens that someone I went to college with started this wonderful blog.  Now, instead of scouring the internet looking for the best home made beauty products, I can just reference what she has written!! It is so much nicer when you (kind of) know the person writing the blog.  It’s so much easier to trust them!!

Tune in next time to find out what else has been occupying my time and, probably, learn how my first week back in class has been! You’re hooked already, aren’t you?

Live Out Loud! – Project Me

Tonight I attended my first Project Me meeting and quite honestly I have not been so nervous in quite awhile.  On the forty minute drive to the meeting I oscillated from excited to downright terrified.  I almost turned around twice on the highway and then, after getting lost and then having to circle the block four times before 1) finding the meeting place, and 2) finding a parking spot, I had nearly convinced myself to turn around and head back home.  But then my good sense kicked in and I figured if I had already spent all that time finding the damn place I might as well go in.  I did pay to do this after all…why waste the money, right? Right.

So what is Project Me? Well that you can find out on their website which will explain it much better than I can, I’m sure. I discovered it through Facebook right about the time that my fiancée became my ex-fiancée and I was feeling rather low due to the circumstances that caused me to have to break it off. Sometimes doing what you know is right for you is the most difficult thing you can do. Many tears were shed and a pint or two of Ben and Jerry’s were consumed until I was finally able to look at myself in the mirror and remember that I deserved to focus on myself for a change. And that’s when Project Me showed on my Facebook feed. How appropriate, no?

I decided to sign up telling myself that I would finally get the body I had always desired since, as some of you may know, I was a size 16 while in high school and, even though over the years I have been able to shrink down to a size 4 by eating right and exercising I still only felt pretty good about myself. Because then it became a completely different game and I decided to add anorexia to my list of things to hate about myself and shrunk down to a size 0 resulting in a loss of all muscle mass and most of my mental health. I was unhealthy, unhappy, and still hated how I looked.

Over time I was able to get back to a comfortable size 4 but still did not like my appearance. Still don’t. No matter what I do I can’t look in the mirror and be proud of all the work I have done to get the body I have. Joining Project Me was initially about my body but it has since become about loving myself. That may seem odd seeing as how it is a program about getting into the shape you want to be in and making healthy decisions but for me it is so much more.

You see I am an incredibly shy person which means joining a program where I have to attend meetings and make it known on social media that I am a participant scares the ever loving shit out of me. At the meeting tonight I was so nervous I was sweating. Me and sweat only meet upon interaction with a warm day and a decent amount of sun. Normally I am perpetually cold and have been since about 20 years old but tonight my sweat glands were on over drive and my heart was about to beat out of my chest.

When I first walked into the room I was met with a small crowd of ladies that all looked like they had just stepped out of a catalog while I stood there in my yoga pants and my favorite baggy off-the-shoulder shirt that has an unfortunate stain on the front that will not come off no matter how much I try to get rid of it. Just like in high school I felt like the outsider and I once again considered turning around and making the long trek back home but reminded myself of why I was doing this and stood my ground.

Why was I doing this? Because, while I have no problem making a complete fool out of myself or going up to perfect strangers and striking up a conversation, I have a serious issue with letting others know that I am trying to improve myself. I am embarrassed to have joined this program. Not because I don’t think it is a good program, but because I feel like I need to apologize to people for doing something for myself when I should be happy with the body I have and the person I am. I mean, recently I have been informed that I am wonderful, amazing, and perfect even. I am adored. But I don’t feel that way about me. And I would like to. So yes, maybe part of this process is about changing my body for the better, but what I know I will get from it is so much more.

Even though I felt as though I was beneath all the ladies in the room, every time I would look around I would be met with a smile. The only person in the room who was judging me, was me. And that realization hit hard. The only person that doesn’t seem to like me, is me. How do I fix this? By doing something that scares me. One something that combines a whole slew of my biggest fears. The best (or possibly worst if you are me and scared of letting people know the things you do for yourself because you are afraid they will make fun of you or guilt you out of doing it because they don’t think you need to be doing it) part of all of this is that I will be held accountable because all the ladies will be in this with me and it is actually a requirement to post on social media that you are doing something for yourself and trying to make a healthy change in your life. I actually have to let people know what’s going on in my life for a change. Only I would find this difficult. Because let me tell you, when the coach uttered the words “live out loud” I about had a heart attack.  I felt my heart skip a beat. Live out loud? You mean…like…tell people stuff? I have a handful of friends that I am very close with and even THEY don’t know I’m doing this.

Being the writer that I am I decided that the least embarrassing way to let the world know the journey I am starting out on was to publish it on my public blog. I make so much sense, it’s ridiculous. Cheers to the future. May I come out on the other end with confidence and…other qualities that are appropriate but that I can’t even come up with! Seriously…I need this.

We’ve Been Here Before. I Recognize That Tree…

image

I feel empty. And I don’t want to talk about it. Not because I think it wouldn’t help but because I’m not sure I know what is wrong and I don’t want to bug any of my friends. Any of the people I want to open up to.  I feel as though I have lost all my friends…no, scratch that, I know I have.  Once I fall down I push everyone away, distance myself, make it easy to fall apart without feeling like I will hurt anyone.  Anyone other than myself.

Once my desperate desires turned into fears of possible follow through I began to realize that I wasn’t the person I had worked so hard to become.  The person I was.  The person I am.  Somewhere along the way I let myself go.  I lost who I was again and suddenly, without knowing when or how or why, I found myself back at the bottom of the mountain I had climbed up so carefully and tediously.  And the thing is, clawing your way back to the top is much more difficult than the tumble down is.  I see where I once was.  I can even see my damn footprints in the ground but reaching even that first step seems impossible from this far away.

Fortunately for me I have done it before so I know I can do it again.  Unfortunately, it has once again become a task that seems impossible from this view.  I go through so many ups and downs through the day I am exhausted by the time I finally clock out at work thinking only of the comfort of my bed and dreaming of comfort food that I rarely crave let alone indulge in.  But right now I would like nothing more than to finish off a very large bag of Cheetos followed by a pint of strawberry ice cream not to be shown up by a bottle of white wine.

Sometimes you search for solace in a person you don’t even know; a person who needs you in that moment just as much as you need them.  A stranger who can take on all your troubles and you theirs because in the end you mean nothing more to each other than a fellow sufferer searching for any strand of a lifeline in this chaotic, unfeeling world of empty souls.  I used to be able to find those people in my times of need but this time…this time I know it won’t help.  I know exactly to whom I should be talking. To whom I need to talk, but it is more difficult than I ever imagined possible.

During my writing hiatus a lot has happened and I have wanted to share it with the world but every time I tried to sit down and write nothing came.  Sometimes I couldn’t even bring myself to sit in front of my computer because I knew my inability to put emotions and feelings into words, my inability to do what has always come so naturally to me, would lead to nothing more than a self loathing pity party that even I didn’t want to participate in.  I should know by now that once “writers block” sets in it means I have stopped connecting with myself; stopped taking time to do things I enjoy…basically stopped being myself.

So what happened?  How did I get here?  I was happy and making progress towards all my goals and trying new things and doing everything I had said I would do and then…what?  I met someone.  I met my future husband.  And things were wonderful.  At first.  After a few months I do what I always do; I stopped focusing on myself and focused solely on making him happy.  Why?  Why did I do this?  Because there is a very large part of me that believes I am not good enough and I have to make up for it somehow.  This very large part of me was a part I believed I had finally shut away for good…I believed incorrectly.

It came back with a vengeance and likes to remind me of all the hurt I have endured from other men and the nasty things they would blame me for regardless of the fact that I was not to blame.  I would like to believe that my devotion to making my man happy came from the fear of having him turn on me like the others in my past but that would be a lie.  The embarrassing truth is that I have always devoted myself to making my significant other happy while completely neglecting my own feelings.  It took me awhile to realize that my devotion was the exact thing that pushed the people I loved away and this time I was not going to let it happen.  This time was different.  This man was different.

And that, dear readers, is what finally hit me recently and knocked me out of my downward spiral.  I’m still down here, but I know what must be done.  I know that I need to talk to him.  I know that it will all be okay because, guess what?  This man loves me.  All of me.  For all the right reasons.  And I can claim that he doesn’t, I can try and convince myself that he is like the others, I can push and push and push against him, but in the end I know that I am just fooling myself.  In the end those wedding magazines are still sitting on my desk full of sticky notes marking desires and ideas.  In the end, he’s still the one.

******

So as not to completely deviate from my old ways I must end this post with a cyber smile since today is Texas’ “Icemaggeddon” and my company closed down their offices I have been having my own little version of a snow day and would like to wish you a day filled with spiked coffee, cozy blankets fully equipped with cuddle bitches, and naps where you dream of nothing but heat inducing activities with your partner…should you be so lucky to have one with you.

Sadly my man is over THERE and I am over HERE and the icy roads are screaming a resounding, “FUCK YOU!” to couples all throughout North Texas.  Thanks…we owe you.  And we ALWAYS repay our debts.

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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