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:
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. 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!
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.
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!
I have been proactive about dating since October when I joined eHarmony and ended up meeting Mr. Perfect. After our blissful month of relationship heaven we entered into wicked friendship and he quickly became one of my closest friends. I’ve said it before, and I will say it again: people should break up more often! Anyway, after that I attempted to put myself out there even more and do as my best friend told me to do and stop being so picky. Basically I blame this all on her. If I hadn’t tried to broaden my horizons I would not have had four of the most interesting/worst dates of my short dating life. Though I supposed I could thank her since I now have four very interesting stories to tell. Whatever…I will continue to shed a negative light on it just so I can blame her. I mean we never fight so I have to feel negatively towards her some way at some time. Even if it is just in jest. Keeps the relationship fresh.
Fail Date Guy #1- Feburary 13th
This wonderful piece of human engineering was an eHarmony pick that I decided to give a chance even though he only had one close up picture (quite obviously the best picture of him ever because why else would you only put one up?) and two distance photos that could have been fucking anyone! He was 5’7″ short and lives in a tiny town outside of another small town next to a small city that sits comfortably across the way from my city. Basically he was short, back country, and less than formally educated. Now, I’m not a complete snob, but I don’t particularly care for a southern accent, I like tall guys, and I want my guy to know and understand the difference between “your” and “you’re.” Which, as I have discovered, is apparently nearly as difficult to understand as theoretical physics.
I don’t remember how long we exchanged messages but it wasn’t too long before we had a date planned for that Saturday. But then he calls me on Wednesday (yes, calls. If you know me at all you should know that I HATE talking on the phone. Unless of course it is with someone I know and like.) and asks if I would like to meet for dinner. In the spirit of all men he had absolutely no idea where or when so I spent a good 30 minutes figuring this shit out for him. Guys, if you are going to ask a girl out, please know where you want to go and have an idea of when it would like to occur. Not once have I met a man capable of doing this on his own.
An hour later I have arrived and…wait another twenty minutes for him to show up. I love waiting. Especially for a date. It’s awesome. I was in such a good mood. When he FINALLY arrived and I saw him for the first time the little voice in the back of my head said, “told you you shouldn’t have agreed to this.” His eyes were too close together and his face we too round. He kind of freaked me out. Also, he was not 5’7″. I am, he was not. But, I had come this far I knew I had to go through with the dinner. Now, this kid was great at conversing with written word, also didn’t seem to have that much of a problem with the spoken word over the phone either, but sit down in front of him and it was like the mute button was pressed. Suddenly he had nothing to say. I was holding up both of our ends of the conversation and he interjected lovely little quips when he felt up to it. Lucky for me the food came out almost as soon as we finished ordering so I was able to stuff my face instead of look and talk to the Munchkin from Mutesville.
I mean, at least that’s what I thought at first, that is until I noticed that every fucking time I raised my eyes to look up he was staring at me. Food practically untouched. What. The. Fuck?!? Finally I asked if there was something on my face. There was not. But he kept staring. So I started talking again…and he continued staring. Eventually he found it prudent to explain why he was not eating or talking and instead staring at me. Apparently! he enjoyed watching me. Why? you ask. Well! I observe everything around me, analyze it, and think about it. You can tell that there is something going on in my head even though I’m not saying anything about it. According to him, at least….okay fine, it is true. But that doesn’t mean he has to stare at me and be mute. It was creepy. At one point I told him I was going to stop talking. So I did. And he continued to stare at me. Luckily I was wearing a hat so I took it off, put it in front of my face and turned to watch ESPN on the TV above the bar. This continued for a good ten minutes until the check arrived, at which point I informed him of my ability to remain silent for days due to my inability to refrain from having interesting conversations with myself all from the comfort of my own insane brain.
After the check was paid I quickly put on my jacket and reached for my to go bag and, after all the awkwardness on his part and forced civility on mine, he had the audacity to ask, “Oh, so you want to go now?” Really, Munchkin? Is that a fucking rhetorical question or does your height effect your brains ability to assess a situation? (I would like to point out that I have nothing against people shorter than me, it was merely the fact that he lied about his height – if he had been truthful it wouldn’t have that big of a deal. But it’s like putting your skinny picture up on your profile instead of the current “more to love” picture that shows what months of serious couch potato and channel surfing activities had turned you into.) Instead of saying this I respond in kind with, “yes, I have to go home and get some writing done and take a shower and get ready for work tomorrow.” All of this was true but it was only eight o’clock so I could have stayed out much later and still achieved all that I desired for the night, but there was no way I was putting myself through any more of this torture. I could tell he didn’t believe me but, quite frankly, I didn’t give a rats ass. All I wanted was to get my happy little ass out of that restaurant and back into the comfort of my car. I also wanted an adult beverage – something I should have thought of while ordering my meal because maybe, just maybe it would have made me capable of finding amusement in the situation instead of being horrified by it. Hindsight and all that…
I know that I should have been grateful for his desire to be chivalrous and walk me to my car since everyone chants “chivalry is dead!” these days, but in cases like this you not only want it to be dead, you also want it to be so fetid that even beetles look at you and say, “you’re joking, right?!?” You want Hazmat workers to have to have new suits engineered that are resilient enough to come in close contact with it. You want it to be so abominable that people will imagine radiation poisoning from nuclear war to be a humane way to go compared to the horrors that this would expose one to. And, after I finally made it to my car I had to endure one last awkward exchange that ended with my bluntness rearing it’s impatient head.
“I’m going to go now.”
End of date.
So, kids, what have we learned from this?
STEP 1: Keep to what you know you don’t want. You may not know what you do want, but you have got to know what you don’t want. That is key! I most fervently did not want someone under six feet or a country boy – both of which he was and look how well that all turned out! The worst part of it all was that he still didn’t get the hint. He actually texted me later and said, “I’m not sure, are we still on for Saturday?” Poor, poor Munchkin. I sincerely hope that he finds someone nicer and shorter than me. Who can appreciate chivalry and a southern drawl.
Tune in next time to find out what Step 2 is and read about Fail Date Guy #2! Oh, the intrigue!!
Yesterday was the third year anniversary of the big R. Throughout the day I was fine, then I went to my bar to hang out with a friend and it was okay…until the sun went down. Suddenly the sun went down on my day and I was in the dark, completely alone, in my own little world. I tried to play it off, push it to the back, pretend it wasn’t there, but eventually it pushed to the forefront. So there I was, sitting at the bar, suddenly on the verge of tears.
On the drive home I kept the tears back as much as I could but once I got home and shut the door to my room I couldn’t stop them. I know people have been through worse so I feel terrible for it, but I couldn’t help it. The memories are still slightly fresh and I have never had to be alone on that day. So I was alone and remembering everything and I felt violated all over again. And angry. And helpless. I let it consume me for a little bit but my friend helped pull me out of the darkness.
I had terrible dreams and woke up almost every hour but I made it through the night alone. And I suppose I will have to continue to face it alone if things keep going the way they do. (I told you I had no faith in myself being able to ACTUALLY make a relationship last.)
But today was okay. I was completely in my own world, that is for damn sure. Apparently co-workers attempted to talk to me and I completely ignored them right up until the end. They found this incredibly amusing, I found it rather annoying. Just leave me alone to do my work, damnit!
Anyway, kind of the whole point of this was that I have finally gotten good at protecting myself. I know how to handle things, no matter what, when they are thrown my way. I am very used to being left by men by now so that is quite easy to move on from – it sucks, I hate it, I want to cry and mope and…who knows what else, but when I get in that mode I always have a little voice in my head that reminds me how amazing I am. How I shouldn’t let a guy get me down. How it is his loss. And I remind myself of all the good things in my life. I have ridiculously amazing friends who love and care about me and I keep making more of them. I have a roof over my head. I have a family who loves me. I currently have a job. I have transportation. Every day I get to wake up and greet the new day. I have opportunities abounding with my writing and modeling. I have the ability to help other people and I get to in small ways each and every day. I’m alive – and that is fucking fantastic!
Sure, I get sad. In fact, I get sad a lot. But I put on a happy face and deal with it in my own special way. I rarely actually tell people when I am sad. Never tell anyone when I have suicidal thoughts anymore (which happens more often than I would like but I handle them.) I still have the urge to self harm almost daily but I deal with that as well – sometimes I come very close to letting it happen because I figure, “who will know?” but I can’t go through with it. Other times I know I WOULD go through with it so I take myself away from the opportunity. I could let it all overwhelm me like I used to but I am tired of that. I am tired of feeling sorry for myself. I have no reason to. I can only look what the future holds and all the possibilities out there. I choose to be positive, even when things are looking down. Even when I know I am facing depression smack in the face and it is just daring me to walk away. Even when I feel abandoned and alone. Even when people leave – because they always will as history consistently reminds me. Even when emotions overwhelm me; when I take on what my friends are feeling and I know I can’t help them. When I feel helpless and useless and worthless. All of that…all of that can change with the power of my own thoughts. I am the one who put the thoughts there in the first place so I can change them.
I used to miss HIM every day, thinking nobody would ever love me again and that I would never love anybody else again. And who knows, that may be true. Maybe nobody else will want me. But I like to believe that it will happen. I prefer to remember the good times, remember how happy I was and how happy I may be able to be with someone else in the future (granted they actually stick around long enough to let that happen). This is only a recent development, but it is a helpful one. If I ever see him again I’m not sure what I would do, chances are I would try to be there for him again if he wanted me because, as you know, I give people way more chances than they deserve. However, I do know one thing…I still love him. Maybe I’m not still in love with him, I’m not quite sure about that yet, but I definitely still love him and I know I always will. We were supposed to be married next year and we had named our two boys that I was convinced I would have. But now I have to look it as having a new opportunity. A new love. Possibly a new life. Hopefully something and someone who will treat me like I have been told I deserve to be treated.
Everyone deserves, you just have to keep reminding yourself of that.