Before I get started, I feel as though I must address my last entry in regards to Flame Boy. I received many responses via email and comments about giving him a chance (all of which I wholeheartedly embrace and appreciate!) But let me try to explain a little further, in my defense. I’m not intentionally trying to be harsh but there was just something about him that made me curl up inside. I appreciate enthusiasm but flamboyance is something that I question and just can not find myself attracted to. I like my men to be…well, MEN. I definitely wouldn’t mind keeping him as a friend but that in itself may be a very fine line to maintain especially considering that I received this text from him yesterday…
“I have 2moro off *smirk*. Care for me to give you that cooking lesson?”
Seriously? What guy writes *smirk* in a text message??? So no, I will not be getting a cooking lesson from Mr. Flamboyant. I do realize that I’m perpetuating the stereotype of women only wanting bad boys but I don’t agree with that completely. It’s not that I want a boy that’s bad I just don’t want a boy that’s THAT good. An edge would be nice. And somebody that I can’t describe using the word “cheesy”. The way he tells his stories is like he’s auditioning for West Side Story. Sorry, that’s just not my style.
Now that that’s clear, you can disregard everything I’ve just said for the following post is going to prove what a hypocritical woman I really am. Yet one more reason why I’M still single ;-)
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’m going to have sex on Monday or Tuesday of next week with a guy that wants to “kikk” it. I know, I know, ya’ll think I’m nuts. What-EVER. Following is our short but riveting email exchange:
VD: hey doll how are u doin....what did u get n2 4 halloween
Me: Hey there! Halloween was pretty tame. What about your Halloween? Get into any trouble ;-)
VD: no trouble yet....lol so when are we goin 2 kikk it....what is ur number so we kan hangout
Me: What's your schedule like? Then we can determine when we will be able to "kikk" it...I'm pretty open...Btw, what's your name?
VD: im mostly free @ nite and sumtimes during the wk....and my name is Vick....whats ur name
Me: My name is Melisa. My schedule is fairly open so let me know when you feel like meeting up or giving me a call...
VD: we kan meet up sumtime dis wk......and what is ur number so i kan giv u a kall...
VD: hey Mel...hows ur wk goin..
Me: My week is going along fine. How is yours?
VD: mine is so so ....kant wait until da wkend, so kan we hangout dis wk
Me: Give me a call. My number is 555-1212
I’m going to apologize now because I realize that reading through our email correspondences you may have lost a few brain cells. His writing skills insult my intelligence and make my eyes bleed. I don’t usually respond to grown men that need a tutor but let me tell you that after looking at his pictures and seeing his 6’4” physique shirtless I’m willing to make that sacrifice. Again proving how incredibly shallow I can be.
After dealing with his retard speak I almost didn’t give him my number. Almost. But what can I say? I have no other real prospects in site so I wouldn’t mind adding just one more notch on the bedpost with Mr. 6’4”, 8-pack, 96” bicep stud muffin. Can you really blame me? I’m looking forward to hitting that in a bad way.
Aside from that, I really was quite surprised at how articulate and sensible he sounded over the phone. What I was expecting was some cocky stud with only a slight grasp of his native tongue. English. But what I encountered was somebody that even at 26 seemed to know the playing field. He made sense and not once did I every hear him call me “son” or “you’s”. I was impressed. He was also quite insightful when it came to the way he looked at relationships and dating.
So, even though I don’t see a great whirlwind, soul mate type of romance ahead I do see some good times that I may or may not be busting out the video camera for.
Stay tuned…
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Gay or just too nice...
Somewhere along the way during my adult dating life, I lost my conscience. I’m not sure where it has gone or why but it has officially left the building. I’ve considered putting out an APB on it but can’t figure out if it would be worth the time. Let me ‘splain…
Last night I had an impromptu date with someone I had chatted with online but never actually met. I believe our initial contact was through AmericanSingles.com about five years ago. Nothing ever came of it and I had long forgotten about Mr. Nice Guy but when he added me on Facebook about a year and a half ago, I was all for it. Great sense of humor, cutish and employed. Perfect. I fully believe that the reason we didn’t meet was because of me. With my self diagnosed A.D.D. I often times will give the online dating thing a rest for several months to regroup so I think he was just an unfortunate consequence of bad timing.
Through Facebook, we reconnected and I was reminded at how funny, amusing and down to earth Mr. Nice Guy was. We didn’t have a constant stream of communication but would chit chat every now and again. This time around it seemed more platonic than romantic. At least on my end. Sure, we flirted here and there but nothing hard core where I got the feeling as though I just had to meet him right then and there.
Until last night.
I was bored and so was he. He commented that he had some Malibu Rum so I gave him directions and told him that I had the perfect place to store such a delicacy. My tummy. An hour and a half later I was buzzing him into my building. Not only did he bring the Rum but he also brought a cooler full of food. He had BBQ’d steak, sautéed vegetables, beans and a baked potato. Considering I would rather starve then boil water his ability to cook and share almost made me want to show him my “O” face before the formal introductions had even been completed.
He was cuter than his pictures which was a pleasant surprise. We had nice conversation while fixing and heating our plates. But there was just something about him that gave me the feeling that I would not be sleeping with him that night. Or any night. He was more soft spoken than I’m used to and almost effeminate without being girly. He was…well, for lack of a better word…sweet. It was also at this time that I came to the stark realization that if a man isn’t carrying a club and trying to drag me by the hair I automatically assume he’s gay. This was the case here. I’m not sure why I equated sweet with gay but for some reason I did. He really just seemed…too nice.
We settled down to eat and he began sharing stories with me about his karaoke adventures and past Halloween costumes (apparently he makes a good looking woman?). He was nothing short of flamboyant and I found myself forcing myself to laugh just so to not hurt his feelings as he did appear to be somewhat nervous around me still. He definitely gets an A for effort. He was cute and adorable with his story telling in only a way that can be described as me wanting to pinch his cheeks and put him in my pocket. Especially when he shared his impression of a Spanish Steve Irwin. He was…well, adorable. GAH!
In case you all haven’t read a single word I’ve ever written, I’m not the “adorable”, “nice” or “sweet” kind of gal. I’m hard, I’m cold and I’m often times a bitch. And that’s on a good day. We kept drinking and I had offered to let him stay the night in case he had too much too drink. Which, by the looks of it was pretty much after I’d opened the first bottle. Pfft, lightweights.
He continued to talk and share. I continued to listen and look interested. As the night wore on I secretly wished I had rescinded my offer but he was clearly making himself at home. The later it got the more obvious it became he had no intention of leaving. By this point, he was warning me that he was going to start flirting with me and that my pictures hadn’t done me justice. He still hadn’t so much as touched my hand so him telling me that he was going to start flirting with me was highly amusing. Especially considering that I wasn’t sure if I was his type or my roommate Mike was.
He went to change and get ready for bed since our fate had been sealed. Five minutes later he came out in a tank out and dolphin shorts. Okay, totally kidding here, he was in regular shorts but just imagine how great my story would have been if he came out dressed as Richard Simmons! Anyway, I’m not sure what he was carrying in his overnight bag but he suddenly had biceps. Nice, beautiful biceps. Apparently, he was talking to me but the moment I saw those beautifully sculpted arms my mind went blank. It took me a minute to actually realize he was talking to me. He laughed and I snapped out of it.
He offered to sleep on the couch but I said he could join me in bed. All thoughts of him being gay had been swept out the window when he put that tank top on. We talked a little more and finally Flame Boy attempted a kiss. Suddenly Flame Boy wasn’t so flaming. I’m not sure what switch turned on but something happened and he suddenly had the confidence and self assurance of a male gigolo. I can honestly say without hesitation that he was the best make out partner I’ve ever had in terms of skill. I complimented him on his abilities for I like to give credit where credit is due. To which he replied…
“Do you remember the end in Revenge of the Nerds where the cheerleader was amazed at the nerd’s ability to make love? He said it was because they’ve had plenty of time to practice. That’s me. I’m a nerd.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. He was being adorable all over again! If it weren’t for the fact that I knew he was 37 I would have sworn I was in bed with a 14 year old virgin. And no, for the record, I did not sleep with him.
The next morning he took off and I was left reeling trying to decipher what had just happened. It hadn’t been an evening of unrequited lust and wandering hands. It had been a simple night of good food, a few cocktails and conversation. It couldn’t have been any milder if I had been alone.
Here’s my problem. He’s a perfectly nice and good looking gentleman. What’s wrong with me that I can’t just like him? On paper he’s perfect. He’s got a great personality and he seems to be a caring and thoughtful person. I know how awful and clichéd this sounds but he really is just too nice. I don’t feel that spark. I want to pet him and give him a water dish, not have mind blowing mattress falling off the box spring sex (which by the way, has happened to me before. I’m not bragging or anything but I am). And despite him turning into Super Stud behind the bedroom doors I just don’t feel that umph!
A few hours later I got a text from him basically telling me what a good time he had and how he looked forward to seeing me again. I have a feeling that without realizing it, I may potentially yet inadvertently hurt him. I’m a hypocrite. All I’ve done is ask for a good man with good intentions. I get one and I accuse him of being gay and nice? Yep, I have some serious issues.
Now, on to Geico.com in search of my caveman. My hair was getting a little too thick anyway…
**Please note that I have no problem with men that are gay. I just choose not to have intimate relationships with them. They never put out...
Last night I had an impromptu date with someone I had chatted with online but never actually met. I believe our initial contact was through AmericanSingles.com about five years ago. Nothing ever came of it and I had long forgotten about Mr. Nice Guy but when he added me on Facebook about a year and a half ago, I was all for it. Great sense of humor, cutish and employed. Perfect. I fully believe that the reason we didn’t meet was because of me. With my self diagnosed A.D.D. I often times will give the online dating thing a rest for several months to regroup so I think he was just an unfortunate consequence of bad timing.
Through Facebook, we reconnected and I was reminded at how funny, amusing and down to earth Mr. Nice Guy was. We didn’t have a constant stream of communication but would chit chat every now and again. This time around it seemed more platonic than romantic. At least on my end. Sure, we flirted here and there but nothing hard core where I got the feeling as though I just had to meet him right then and there.
Until last night.
I was bored and so was he. He commented that he had some Malibu Rum so I gave him directions and told him that I had the perfect place to store such a delicacy. My tummy. An hour and a half later I was buzzing him into my building. Not only did he bring the Rum but he also brought a cooler full of food. He had BBQ’d steak, sautéed vegetables, beans and a baked potato. Considering I would rather starve then boil water his ability to cook and share almost made me want to show him my “O” face before the formal introductions had even been completed.
He was cuter than his pictures which was a pleasant surprise. We had nice conversation while fixing and heating our plates. But there was just something about him that gave me the feeling that I would not be sleeping with him that night. Or any night. He was more soft spoken than I’m used to and almost effeminate without being girly. He was…well, for lack of a better word…sweet. It was also at this time that I came to the stark realization that if a man isn’t carrying a club and trying to drag me by the hair I automatically assume he’s gay. This was the case here. I’m not sure why I equated sweet with gay but for some reason I did. He really just seemed…too nice.
We settled down to eat and he began sharing stories with me about his karaoke adventures and past Halloween costumes (apparently he makes a good looking woman?). He was nothing short of flamboyant and I found myself forcing myself to laugh just so to not hurt his feelings as he did appear to be somewhat nervous around me still. He definitely gets an A for effort. He was cute and adorable with his story telling in only a way that can be described as me wanting to pinch his cheeks and put him in my pocket. Especially when he shared his impression of a Spanish Steve Irwin. He was…well, adorable. GAH!
In case you all haven’t read a single word I’ve ever written, I’m not the “adorable”, “nice” or “sweet” kind of gal. I’m hard, I’m cold and I’m often times a bitch. And that’s on a good day. We kept drinking and I had offered to let him stay the night in case he had too much too drink. Which, by the looks of it was pretty much after I’d opened the first bottle. Pfft, lightweights.
He continued to talk and share. I continued to listen and look interested. As the night wore on I secretly wished I had rescinded my offer but he was clearly making himself at home. The later it got the more obvious it became he had no intention of leaving. By this point, he was warning me that he was going to start flirting with me and that my pictures hadn’t done me justice. He still hadn’t so much as touched my hand so him telling me that he was going to start flirting with me was highly amusing. Especially considering that I wasn’t sure if I was his type or my roommate Mike was.
He went to change and get ready for bed since our fate had been sealed. Five minutes later he came out in a tank out and dolphin shorts. Okay, totally kidding here, he was in regular shorts but just imagine how great my story would have been if he came out dressed as Richard Simmons! Anyway, I’m not sure what he was carrying in his overnight bag but he suddenly had biceps. Nice, beautiful biceps. Apparently, he was talking to me but the moment I saw those beautifully sculpted arms my mind went blank. It took me a minute to actually realize he was talking to me. He laughed and I snapped out of it.
He offered to sleep on the couch but I said he could join me in bed. All thoughts of him being gay had been swept out the window when he put that tank top on. We talked a little more and finally Flame Boy attempted a kiss. Suddenly Flame Boy wasn’t so flaming. I’m not sure what switch turned on but something happened and he suddenly had the confidence and self assurance of a male gigolo. I can honestly say without hesitation that he was the best make out partner I’ve ever had in terms of skill. I complimented him on his abilities for I like to give credit where credit is due. To which he replied…
“Do you remember the end in Revenge of the Nerds where the cheerleader was amazed at the nerd’s ability to make love? He said it was because they’ve had plenty of time to practice. That’s me. I’m a nerd.”
I couldn’t stop laughing. He was being adorable all over again! If it weren’t for the fact that I knew he was 37 I would have sworn I was in bed with a 14 year old virgin. And no, for the record, I did not sleep with him.
The next morning he took off and I was left reeling trying to decipher what had just happened. It hadn’t been an evening of unrequited lust and wandering hands. It had been a simple night of good food, a few cocktails and conversation. It couldn’t have been any milder if I had been alone.
Here’s my problem. He’s a perfectly nice and good looking gentleman. What’s wrong with me that I can’t just like him? On paper he’s perfect. He’s got a great personality and he seems to be a caring and thoughtful person. I know how awful and clichéd this sounds but he really is just too nice. I don’t feel that spark. I want to pet him and give him a water dish, not have mind blowing mattress falling off the box spring sex (which by the way, has happened to me before. I’m not bragging or anything but I am). And despite him turning into Super Stud behind the bedroom doors I just don’t feel that umph!
A few hours later I got a text from him basically telling me what a good time he had and how he looked forward to seeing me again. I have a feeling that without realizing it, I may potentially yet inadvertently hurt him. I’m a hypocrite. All I’ve done is ask for a good man with good intentions. I get one and I accuse him of being gay and nice? Yep, I have some serious issues.
Now, on to Geico.com in search of my caveman. My hair was getting a little too thick anyway…
**Please note that I have no problem with men that are gay. I just choose not to have intimate relationships with them. They never put out...
Monday, November 9, 2009
TB Anyone?
I’m happy to report that I may have picked up a job…FINALLY. It’s a part time job, but a job none the less. Thanks to Mr. Creepy High School Science Teacher Guy. He runs a program that tutors underprivileged children. So, as excited as I am to finally get a chance to make a couple of bucks, there’s one glaring problem. The job includes tutoring children. Oh well, say la vie.
In order to begin my new adventure I was informed that I would need to take a TB test and a Livescan (fingerprinting) before starting. Imagine my surprise and dismay at hearing this news. I mean, who has TB anymore? Really? Naturally, I don’t have health insurance so Mr. Creepy’s secretary referred me to a free clinic that could take care of this for me. She also took pity on me and sent me the $20 it would take to get the fingerprinting done. Sounds easy enough, right? Wrong.
Text Convo to my best bud:
Me: I have 1/8th tank of gas and $14. I still have to ship that scarf AND drive to Glendale for the TB testing and Livescan AND drive to training for the tutoring in San Fernando tomorrow.
Me: AND they only sent me $20 for the Livescan. The one they want costs $25. So basically now I have 1/8th tank of gas and $9. Awesome.
B: Your shot 4 TB is free rite??? It’s never ending, huh?
Me: Yes. Well, I’m off. Gonna do as much as I can b4 running out of money. Just pray that I don’t have to pay for parking anywhere!
B: Good luck!
15 minutes later…
Me: Apparently 1/8th was being generous. My car is on E sitting in traffic. Great.
10 minutes later…
Me: I’m using my laundry coins for parking. I hate Glendale. I’d rather have herpes than come to this shithole.
B: Do u ever use coins 2 put gas in the car?
Me: I’m parked a block away so I didn’t have to park in the garage and my flip flops have a hole in the heel. I can’t even afford a $2 pair of flip flops!
20 minutes later…
Me: Damn. I’m done with the fingerprinting but can’t hit the clinic for another hour. Ugh.
Me: I am parked in front of the Glendale PD. Guess I could just wait here and pray for a cute cop to walk by.
B: U got a license? And insurance? B careful!
Me: I’ve got insurance. License is questionable. My reg is expired tho
B: Geesh! Hang in there
One hour later in the free clinic parking lot…
Me: I guess I’m not the only one struggling. The car next to me has a screwdriver shoved in the door to open it.
Me: Ok, I’m off to be ghetto fabulous in this back alley free clinic! Ego…bye bye!
B: B careful!
5 minutes later…
Me: OMG! This is sooooo ghetto!
Me: If I didn’t have the swine flu virus b4 now I’m sure I’m going to be leaving with it
Me: And I’m going to be here a while. This fucking sucks
B: People sick in there? Gross!
Me: Oh gawd! I’ve heard 2 sneezes. I’m gonna die
B: Ugh, don’t touch anything!
Me: I’m. Not. Happy. AT ALL!
Me: A guy just walked in with a mask on coughing. I can’t believe I’m here. I’m not even sick! But I will be after this shit. I’m pissed!
Me: Get me the fuck out of here! That’s it…my last 9 dollars r going towards a pack of cigarettes
B: U ran?
Me: No, I’m sure I’m already infected with the death virus. I want to run tho.
B: Haha, I don’t blame you!
Me: I’m seriously fucking grossed out. And the worst part? That I have to come back in 2 days to get the results.
Me: Doesn’t being positive for the swine flu negate the fact that I’m going to be negative for TB? Just wondering…
B: Good point
Me: I think I’m already getting a headache! It worked fast! I’m already dying!
Me: Somebody just sneezed then somebody burped. Fucking gross!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
B: Ok, you’re making me laugh. Please stop! I’m bustin up! HAHA
Me: OMG! If these bitches mispronounce my name I’m killing somebody…
Me: Great, I just got scoped by the fucking masked sick man
Me: Oh, I’m up! BRB
10 minutes later...
Me: All they did was take my blood pressure. I told them I was perfectly healthy…for NOW. Some bitch tried to tape me!
B: Tape you?
Me: Looks like they are doing some documentary. She asked if they could tape taking my blood pressure. I told them no. I didn’t come here to be a star.
Me: I think I have lice now
Me: And the flesh eating virus
B: Ummmmm, not fun
Me: Ms. Documentary is killing me
B: Why?
Me: Bcuz now her perky ass is back in the waiting room with me asking if she can talk to people on camera
Me: This is truly ridiculous. My body is being infiltrated by germs. I can feel it!
B: I bet! Is it crowded?
Me: About 50 people.
Me: Have you ever noticed you never see good looking people in places like this? I’m too fucking pretty to be here damnit!
B: U r rite! U shouldn’t be there!
Me: Oh! My turn again! I’ll keep you posted!
5 minutes later…
Me: OMG! Spielberg is back! She’s following me, I just know it! OMG AGAIN! The doc says that he may not be able to give me the TB test…he’s checking with somebody else…
B: Good luck with that
2 minutes later…
Me: U r gonna love this. They don’t test for TB here. Mr. Creepy’s secretary is the one who sent me here! 2 hours and the swine flu later…
B: Lice and flesh eating disease 2
Me: I’m fucking livid
B: O I’m sure
Me: u know, I could have gotten a livescan done 2 blocks from my house but I went to Glendale cuz that’s where the clinic was. I wasted my time, gas and money. Fuck!
Me: and now I’m probably infected with God knows what. I don’t know if I should cry or stab somebody.
Let me be clear here. I did tell the incompetent idiots at the clinic why I was there WHEN I got there. But apparently, they felt it necessary to wait until I was fully saturated with the pig bug before looking at me blankly in the eye and referring me out to another clinic. Which, at that time of evening was closed. So yes, another trip to beautiful Glendale was in my future.
The next day…
As if the back alley free clinic wasn’t bad enough, the place I was referred to was an STD clinic and the TB test would cost me $5. Considering I had $9 left to my name and no gas, they may as well have told me the test ran $500. But I tried to look at the bigger picture. I made my way back down to Glendale and…wait for it…wait for it…got turned away. They already had their quota of diseased folk for the day waiting to see the doc.
Soooooo, not only did I catch the deathbug and headlice from the free clinic the night before but now I probably have syphilis too. Fuck you very much. But all is not lost. I talked to Mr. Creepy and told him I would NOT be going back to STD Central. He offered to pay for me to see a private doctor and get the testing done there. I called and my appointment is two days from now. Word.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On a completely unrelated note, I have three dating disaster…ah er…potentials I’ve been working on since last week. I’ll keep you posted…
In order to begin my new adventure I was informed that I would need to take a TB test and a Livescan (fingerprinting) before starting. Imagine my surprise and dismay at hearing this news. I mean, who has TB anymore? Really? Naturally, I don’t have health insurance so Mr. Creepy’s secretary referred me to a free clinic that could take care of this for me. She also took pity on me and sent me the $20 it would take to get the fingerprinting done. Sounds easy enough, right? Wrong.
Text Convo to my best bud:
Me: I have 1/8th tank of gas and $14. I still have to ship that scarf AND drive to Glendale for the TB testing and Livescan AND drive to training for the tutoring in San Fernando tomorrow.
Me: AND they only sent me $20 for the Livescan. The one they want costs $25. So basically now I have 1/8th tank of gas and $9. Awesome.
B: Your shot 4 TB is free rite??? It’s never ending, huh?
Me: Yes. Well, I’m off. Gonna do as much as I can b4 running out of money. Just pray that I don’t have to pay for parking anywhere!
B: Good luck!
15 minutes later…
Me: Apparently 1/8th was being generous. My car is on E sitting in traffic. Great.
10 minutes later…
Me: I’m using my laundry coins for parking. I hate Glendale. I’d rather have herpes than come to this shithole.
B: Do u ever use coins 2 put gas in the car?
Me: I’m parked a block away so I didn’t have to park in the garage and my flip flops have a hole in the heel. I can’t even afford a $2 pair of flip flops!
20 minutes later…
Me: Damn. I’m done with the fingerprinting but can’t hit the clinic for another hour. Ugh.
Me: I am parked in front of the Glendale PD. Guess I could just wait here and pray for a cute cop to walk by.
B: U got a license? And insurance? B careful!
Me: I’ve got insurance. License is questionable. My reg is expired tho
B: Geesh! Hang in there
One hour later in the free clinic parking lot…
Me: I guess I’m not the only one struggling. The car next to me has a screwdriver shoved in the door to open it.
Me: Ok, I’m off to be ghetto fabulous in this back alley free clinic! Ego…bye bye!
B: B careful!
5 minutes later…
Me: OMG! This is sooooo ghetto!
Me: If I didn’t have the swine flu virus b4 now I’m sure I’m going to be leaving with it
Me: And I’m going to be here a while. This fucking sucks
B: People sick in there? Gross!
Me: Oh gawd! I’ve heard 2 sneezes. I’m gonna die
B: Ugh, don’t touch anything!
Me: I’m. Not. Happy. AT ALL!
Me: A guy just walked in with a mask on coughing. I can’t believe I’m here. I’m not even sick! But I will be after this shit. I’m pissed!
Me: Get me the fuck out of here! That’s it…my last 9 dollars r going towards a pack of cigarettes
B: U ran?
Me: No, I’m sure I’m already infected with the death virus. I want to run tho.
B: Haha, I don’t blame you!
Me: I’m seriously fucking grossed out. And the worst part? That I have to come back in 2 days to get the results.
Me: Doesn’t being positive for the swine flu negate the fact that I’m going to be negative for TB? Just wondering…
B: Good point
Me: I think I’m already getting a headache! It worked fast! I’m already dying!
Me: Somebody just sneezed then somebody burped. Fucking gross!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
B: Ok, you’re making me laugh. Please stop! I’m bustin up! HAHA
Me: OMG! If these bitches mispronounce my name I’m killing somebody…
Me: Great, I just got scoped by the fucking masked sick man
Me: Oh, I’m up! BRB
10 minutes later...
Me: All they did was take my blood pressure. I told them I was perfectly healthy…for NOW. Some bitch tried to tape me!
B: Tape you?
Me: Looks like they are doing some documentary. She asked if they could tape taking my blood pressure. I told them no. I didn’t come here to be a star.
Me: I think I have lice now
Me: And the flesh eating virus
B: Ummmmm, not fun
Me: Ms. Documentary is killing me
B: Why?
Me: Bcuz now her perky ass is back in the waiting room with me asking if she can talk to people on camera
Me: This is truly ridiculous. My body is being infiltrated by germs. I can feel it!
B: I bet! Is it crowded?
Me: About 50 people.
Me: Have you ever noticed you never see good looking people in places like this? I’m too fucking pretty to be here damnit!
B: U r rite! U shouldn’t be there!
Me: Oh! My turn again! I’ll keep you posted!
5 minutes later…
Me: OMG! Spielberg is back! She’s following me, I just know it! OMG AGAIN! The doc says that he may not be able to give me the TB test…he’s checking with somebody else…
B: Good luck with that
2 minutes later…
Me: U r gonna love this. They don’t test for TB here. Mr. Creepy’s secretary is the one who sent me here! 2 hours and the swine flu later…
B: Lice and flesh eating disease 2
Me: I’m fucking livid
B: O I’m sure
Me: u know, I could have gotten a livescan done 2 blocks from my house but I went to Glendale cuz that’s where the clinic was. I wasted my time, gas and money. Fuck!
Me: and now I’m probably infected with God knows what. I don’t know if I should cry or stab somebody.
Let me be clear here. I did tell the incompetent idiots at the clinic why I was there WHEN I got there. But apparently, they felt it necessary to wait until I was fully saturated with the pig bug before looking at me blankly in the eye and referring me out to another clinic. Which, at that time of evening was closed. So yes, another trip to beautiful Glendale was in my future.
The next day…
As if the back alley free clinic wasn’t bad enough, the place I was referred to was an STD clinic and the TB test would cost me $5. Considering I had $9 left to my name and no gas, they may as well have told me the test ran $500. But I tried to look at the bigger picture. I made my way back down to Glendale and…wait for it…wait for it…got turned away. They already had their quota of diseased folk for the day waiting to see the doc.
Soooooo, not only did I catch the deathbug and headlice from the free clinic the night before but now I probably have syphilis too. Fuck you very much. But all is not lost. I talked to Mr. Creepy and told him I would NOT be going back to STD Central. He offered to pay for me to see a private doctor and get the testing done there. I called and my appointment is two days from now. Word.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
On a completely unrelated note, I have three dating disaster…ah er…potentials I’ve been working on since last week. I’ll keep you posted…
Tuesday, October 27, 2009
And THIS is why I'M still single...
Ok, before I continue on with my latest entry I want to take a moment to thank everyone for the wonderful and kind words in regards to my last post. As much as I try to stay out of that “dark place” sometimes I can’t help but be enveloped by it. I’m feeling much better now and as much as I tried not to write about it I do feel a lot better after having done so and after being reminded once again that I am not alone.
That being said, don’t tell anyone I have a soft side. I wouldn’t want it to ruin my streetcred. Now, on to shamelessly making fun of others. I happily present to you this weeks Plentyoffish.com’s emails:
Subject: So I don’t meet all your criteria…
...but I figured I would message you anyway.
I am sure you are getting hit on by tons of creeps and weirdos - that's to be expected. My guess is that you are looking for someone who is nothing more than a boy toy - basically a walking, talking dildo.
OK - well if that's what you want, then good luck.
But if you want someone who has a somewhat more intellectual view of sex - who has studied it and understands in ways that most men never do - then you should message me back and we can talk.
I live in Sherman Oaks - so all you would be risking is maybe an hour for a drink.
Let me know if you are interested.
Cheers,
Elan
**I will not be meeting Elan. Why? The main reason is because he’s “recently separated”. Sorry, but I don’t date men that are married. Secondly, he’s got a baby mama. He SAYS they get along and that there is no drama. I’ll believe that the recession is ending tomorrow before I believe that line of B.S. Thirdly, he’s Canadian. Just kidding! Thirdly, he also says he’s 5’10” which means he’s a good 5’8” (I’m 5’9” so that won’t work) and his beard rivals Santa’s. Next…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
hello. name's Eric. read your profile and i thought i would say hi. just curious.... are for real? it just seem you're a little raw... not that it bothers me. just saying
**I won’t be going out with Eric either. Not because of anything that he said but because of his pictures. His smile screams to me “GAY”. I love my gays and my roommate is gay so nobody can accuse me of being a homophobe but in one of his pictures he’s actually trying to deepthroat a sushi roll…need I say more?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When you gone let me tear that ass out the frame
**Just in case you guys aren’t sure what I’m thinking, I will not be going out with this guy. A-W) His email??? Hello? X) He lives in South Carolina. Y) He’s 21 years old. Z) He looks like Chance from Real Chance of Love on VH-1.
Just for kicks let me share his profile bio:
“My name is Rashaud but they call me Shaud. I'm real laidback and a real person. I don't lie and I'm humble. I joined this as a joke but if you want to hit me up I will respond.Real recognize real.”
**Uhm, no thank you. NEXT…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
u r BEAUTIFUL!
**u r LAME! He also recently started running and is looking for someone to go to church with. Sorry, but I’m not that girl…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Subject: G
wasup sexy
When I didn’t respond he emailed me a few minutes later:
why are you being mean?
**Aside from the fact that he’s 5’7” his pictures look like he’s a Russian gangster and the medallion he’s sporting on his hairy chest (yep, he included a no shirt pic) would make Michael Phelps jealous. He says he’s looking for “Long Term” but he has literally nothing else filled out. Under Profession he put “N/A”. That’s probably because “Russian Mob” wasn’t under the list of options.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And the most creepy email of them all…
First of all, you are not a mess, as you say, you are just a "Sagg", which means, that;s the nature of the beast. So we are part man, part horse. Simply put, we are horses asses half the time, right?From the very first word of your profile, I understood you. Loud and clear. Scarey isn't it? How many men used that as an opening line to get in your pants and really meant it? Idon't know if you are familiar with the zodiac signs or if you even believe in them. I do not profess to have any great knowledge of them myself but it has interested me enough to crack open a book on the subject from time to time.For instance. It is a scientific fact that the moon has a great impact on our oceans. Their tides, high and low, depending on the phase of the moon at the time. So, if that be true, why wouldn't the other planets in our solar system have some sort of impact on us. It's not designed to fortale our future but more to understand where each of us are coming from.Now, you and I and about 4 gazillion other people share the same birth sign, saggitarius, right. It is considered a fire sign. Now what happens when you build two fires and you put them together? It gets H-O-T, HOT. Passionate, sweaty, blazing hot. In everything we do. And we are able to understand each other more so than any other sign. That too is the nature of the beast.So, I suggest we start a couple of fires and see what kind of blaze we can ignite. How does that sound?
**It wasn’t the email that creeped me out as much as who wrote it. Albeit, the email was a bit strange. The author of this piece of work is 46 year old fellow Sagittarius looking for an “Intimate Encounter” and someone “whose appetite for sex meets or exceeds my own”. And lets just say that time has not been kind to him. He looks like somebody’s bald grandpa. He was also nice enough to include a picture of him in a wife-beater tank top. All that glorious old man skin showing. Awesome. No, I will not be starting “a couple of fires to see what kind of blaze we can ignite”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
HI BEAUTIFUL LETS HOOK UP. LOL
**NO
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I even got emailed from a girl…
Subject: Sorry to bother you…
but I was just checking out the competition & your profile is AMAZING!!!!! Clearly the best read I've had in forever. Just wanted to thank you!
**This amused me and truth be told, she’s better looking than 99.9% of the men that email me on here. Too bad I don’t play for that team.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was left out when it said non drinker because i don't drink.. but i also don't pass judgement on those who do....But the fact that you want a virgin with no ex girlfriends... figure if you can have wishful thinking for that i can have wishful thinking that you'll actually reply to this message... only time will tell cause after all the whole looks things (full dark hair.... how about a full dark head)
Here’s his profile:
I'm pretty laid back. I work hard through out the week so when I have free time I like to do things that keep my mind free and a smile on my face. I've only meet one girl from this site and we ended up becoming close friends and thats why I haven't been on here.... But now she has a boyfriend so i figured i'd come back and meet someone else new and interesting.
**This is the guy that is every girls “Best” friend that she never wants to date. I had that feeling by looking at the pictures long before I even had a chance to read his bio. No, I won’t be going out with him either. Next…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Subject: I usually don’t…
sport wood reading profiles, but I guess yours is a somewhat different...
He’s involved in the Entertainment Industry and wrote this in his profile bio:
"Interested in somebody that has the potential to grow in a relationship. I like to have fun, live life to the fullest, I don't get scared easy, and I want to be with somebody who knows how to laugh and avoid the drama or take it on and still laugh at it."
**He listed approximately four profile clichés. For that reason alone I will not go out with him. And he has a cheesy smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
interesting profile.... can i ask you something personal?
hi..... enjoyed your honesty... you live somewhat nearby, i prefer curves, etc.. like what i see and hear/ do you like very well endowed men?
**NEXT!!!
That being said, don’t tell anyone I have a soft side. I wouldn’t want it to ruin my streetcred. Now, on to shamelessly making fun of others. I happily present to you this weeks Plentyoffish.com’s emails:
Subject: So I don’t meet all your criteria…
...but I figured I would message you anyway.
I am sure you are getting hit on by tons of creeps and weirdos - that's to be expected. My guess is that you are looking for someone who is nothing more than a boy toy - basically a walking, talking dildo.
OK - well if that's what you want, then good luck.
But if you want someone who has a somewhat more intellectual view of sex - who has studied it and understands in ways that most men never do - then you should message me back and we can talk.
I live in Sherman Oaks - so all you would be risking is maybe an hour for a drink.
Let me know if you are interested.
Cheers,
Elan
**I will not be meeting Elan. Why? The main reason is because he’s “recently separated”. Sorry, but I don’t date men that are married. Secondly, he’s got a baby mama. He SAYS they get along and that there is no drama. I’ll believe that the recession is ending tomorrow before I believe that line of B.S. Thirdly, he’s Canadian. Just kidding! Thirdly, he also says he’s 5’10” which means he’s a good 5’8” (I’m 5’9” so that won’t work) and his beard rivals Santa’s. Next…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
hello. name's Eric. read your profile and i thought i would say hi. just curious.... are for real? it just seem you're a little raw... not that it bothers me. just saying
**I won’t be going out with Eric either. Not because of anything that he said but because of his pictures. His smile screams to me “GAY”. I love my gays and my roommate is gay so nobody can accuse me of being a homophobe but in one of his pictures he’s actually trying to deepthroat a sushi roll…need I say more?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When you gone let me tear that ass out the frame
**Just in case you guys aren’t sure what I’m thinking, I will not be going out with this guy. A-W) His email??? Hello? X) He lives in South Carolina. Y) He’s 21 years old. Z) He looks like Chance from Real Chance of Love on VH-1.
Just for kicks let me share his profile bio:
“My name is Rashaud but they call me Shaud. I'm real laidback and a real person. I don't lie and I'm humble. I joined this as a joke but if you want to hit me up I will respond.Real recognize real.”
**Uhm, no thank you. NEXT…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
u r BEAUTIFUL!
**u r LAME! He also recently started running and is looking for someone to go to church with. Sorry, but I’m not that girl…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Subject: G
wasup sexy
When I didn’t respond he emailed me a few minutes later:
why are you being mean?
**Aside from the fact that he’s 5’7” his pictures look like he’s a Russian gangster and the medallion he’s sporting on his hairy chest (yep, he included a no shirt pic) would make Michael Phelps jealous. He says he’s looking for “Long Term” but he has literally nothing else filled out. Under Profession he put “N/A”. That’s probably because “Russian Mob” wasn’t under the list of options.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
And the most creepy email of them all…
First of all, you are not a mess, as you say, you are just a "Sagg", which means, that;s the nature of the beast. So we are part man, part horse. Simply put, we are horses asses half the time, right?From the very first word of your profile, I understood you. Loud and clear. Scarey isn't it? How many men used that as an opening line to get in your pants and really meant it? Idon't know if you are familiar with the zodiac signs or if you even believe in them. I do not profess to have any great knowledge of them myself but it has interested me enough to crack open a book on the subject from time to time.For instance. It is a scientific fact that the moon has a great impact on our oceans. Their tides, high and low, depending on the phase of the moon at the time. So, if that be true, why wouldn't the other planets in our solar system have some sort of impact on us. It's not designed to fortale our future but more to understand where each of us are coming from.Now, you and I and about 4 gazillion other people share the same birth sign, saggitarius, right. It is considered a fire sign. Now what happens when you build two fires and you put them together? It gets H-O-T, HOT. Passionate, sweaty, blazing hot. In everything we do. And we are able to understand each other more so than any other sign. That too is the nature of the beast.So, I suggest we start a couple of fires and see what kind of blaze we can ignite. How does that sound?
**It wasn’t the email that creeped me out as much as who wrote it. Albeit, the email was a bit strange. The author of this piece of work is 46 year old fellow Sagittarius looking for an “Intimate Encounter” and someone “whose appetite for sex meets or exceeds my own”. And lets just say that time has not been kind to him. He looks like somebody’s bald grandpa. He was also nice enough to include a picture of him in a wife-beater tank top. All that glorious old man skin showing. Awesome. No, I will not be starting “a couple of fires to see what kind of blaze we can ignite”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
HI BEAUTIFUL LETS HOOK UP. LOL
**NO
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I even got emailed from a girl…
Subject: Sorry to bother you…
but I was just checking out the competition & your profile is AMAZING!!!!! Clearly the best read I've had in forever. Just wanted to thank you!
**This amused me and truth be told, she’s better looking than 99.9% of the men that email me on here. Too bad I don’t play for that team.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I was left out when it said non drinker because i don't drink.. but i also don't pass judgement on those who do....But the fact that you want a virgin with no ex girlfriends... figure if you can have wishful thinking for that i can have wishful thinking that you'll actually reply to this message... only time will tell cause after all the whole looks things (full dark hair.... how about a full dark head)
Here’s his profile:
I'm pretty laid back. I work hard through out the week so when I have free time I like to do things that keep my mind free and a smile on my face. I've only meet one girl from this site and we ended up becoming close friends and thats why I haven't been on here.... But now she has a boyfriend so i figured i'd come back and meet someone else new and interesting.
**This is the guy that is every girls “Best” friend that she never wants to date. I had that feeling by looking at the pictures long before I even had a chance to read his bio. No, I won’t be going out with him either. Next…
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Subject: I usually don’t…
sport wood reading profiles, but I guess yours is a somewhat different...
He’s involved in the Entertainment Industry and wrote this in his profile bio:
"Interested in somebody that has the potential to grow in a relationship. I like to have fun, live life to the fullest, I don't get scared easy, and I want to be with somebody who knows how to laugh and avoid the drama or take it on and still laugh at it."
**He listed approximately four profile clichés. For that reason alone I will not go out with him. And he has a cheesy smile.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
interesting profile.... can i ask you something personal?
hi..... enjoyed your honesty... you live somewhat nearby, i prefer curves, etc.. like what i see and hear/ do you like very well endowed men?
**NEXT!!!
Saturday, October 24, 2009
An update on where my head has been
It has been brought to my attention that I haven’t been updating my blog enough. With that I would have to agree. Considering how honest I am with my writing, I still tend to not want to air my dirty laundry online for fear of being construed as negative or a whiner. But considering that this is my online diary of sorts I’m going to update those interested in what’s been going on with me lately. Just a warning, this is a bit long so grab a cup of coffee and make yourself at home.
First and most importantly, my grandmother passed away about three weeks ago. She lived an amazing life and I didn’t think I would take it as hard as I did but the moment I saw her breathe her last breath I felt as though I had been kicked in the gut. As time has gone by I have achieved a certain level of peace with her passing that I haven’t experienced before. My grandfather passed about seven years ago so knowing that she wanted to join him makes me feel as ease that she isn’t alone anymore. But I consider the mourning process to be a very selfish act. It’s for us that are left behind to grieve. I know she’s in a better place and no longer suffering so my tears are only shed because I miss her.
Employment (or lack thereof):
I should probably write “it sucks donkey balls” and leave it at that. But I’m going to elaborate as I’m sure I’m not encountering anything that some of you haven’t come across also. As I’ve mentioned in at least one of my previous posts, I don’t have a degree. Who would have thought that not having this piece of paper would affect my professional career this much? I used to be of the belief that a strong work ethic, stable history and good references stood for something. I’ve been proven wrong. It has come to my attention that “on the job” experience literally means shit in this market. I’m actually appalled by employers these days that post job listings requiring a Bachelors degree with starting pay at $9 an hour. Where does that leave me?
Also, my credit is so disastrous that I should be declaring Martial Law. I’m not sure where these companies get off having the right to run my credit if I’m not applying for a position that requires anything more extensive than answering a multi line phone system but they do. I find it a Catch 22 that with so many people in the same situation as myself their credit is bound to be damaged when put out of a job. To think that I can actually not qualify for a job before I’ve even had the chance to interview due to my poor credit leaves me feeling hopeless.
So, if I hear one more person ask me “have you tried Monster.com or Yahoo Hotjobs yet?” I’m going to shoot myself. Please don’t insult my intelligence by inferring that I haven’t even tried searching for a job on even the most basic of employment networking websites. Trust me when I tell you I’ve tried them all. Even going so far as to apply for anything part time, beneath my experience level and far less than what I need to actually maintain my existence.
Love Life:
My search for love is going about as well as my search for work. I just don’t seem to have the patience any longer to deal with somebody new and their issues. I’m cleaning house with the men in my life at the moment and my online dating life has pretty much come to a stand still. But let me give you a brief rundown as to why my heart and legs are closed tighter than security at the Pentagon.
Nigerian #2 – I won’t even waste a whole 3rd blog entry on him. He had the audacity to tell me I was using him for sex and was argumentative because I felt like sleeping after working a 12 hour day and then driving home from Vegas (a five hour drive). Then when I couldn’t describe my life’s dreams, hopes and aspirations in 30 words or less he said I wasn’t as “driven” as he. Well, fuck him and his trying to shove it in my ass every time I wasn’t paying attention.
The Drummer – You haven’t heard about him yet and you won’t except for this little blurb. He calls himself an actor and a musician. This egotistical asshole has been in and out of my life, at his convenience, for the better part of 4 years. He told me that he’d “be in touch” when I wouldn’t drive out to Silverlake to pick his lazy ass up and then drive him home again in the morning. Especially knowing that I wasn’t working and could barely afford the gas it took to visit my mother. Fuck him for acting like he was doing me a favor by letting me hang out with him.
The Ex – The one true bullet I’ve dodged as an adult. I thought I loved him till he broke my heart over the phone. However, despite having broken up over 8 years ago and him being married with two kids he still calls me to be his side dish. He’s Armenian and I should have known that this little white girl didn’t have a shot in hell of getting married to him. As in stereotypical fashion, he married a good Armenian girl but likes his white meat on the side. He’s a cliché in every meaning of the word. But I really wish he would just leave me alone as I’m not interested in being somebody’s “other” woman. I don’t need anyone’s sloppy seconds. Fuck him for making me feel like a whore.
Ugly John – I met this guy several years ago through a friend. He looks good on paper and has a voice so sexy your panties almost come off by themselves. However, he’s ugly as homemade sin in person. I know that he’s been practically in love with me from the beginning but I’ve never felt any spark for him in a way that makes me want to “settle down.” Perhaps that’s why lately he’s felt it necessary to shit on my dreams and every idea I’ve come up with to try and better my financial situation. He takes playing the devils advocate to a whole new level. Not to mention, the moment I told him I had quit drinking he stopped asking me out. I know this is because he can no longer “drink” me into bed. Fuck him for being desperate and transparent.
The Cop – You’ll hear about him. He’s also the reason why I’ll never date another man in uniform. Unless it’s for UPS or Subway. I never thought somebody could be so devious and outright untruthful. Without going into too much detail and ruining the surprise for when I do write about him let me just tell you that I would have easily given up my devil may care ways to be his lucky lady. So fuck you, Mr. Cop, for lying to me dead in the eye then coming back to try and rip at my heart once more.
Loverboy – You’ll hear about him too. Another selfish prick that wouldn’t spit on you if you were dying of thirst.
The Neighbor - I’ve been in love with this fool for the better part of 2 years. But actions speak louder than any words I could ever write…and I’m a damn good writer. Never trust a man this smooth talking. And no matter what he says I can’t help but get the feeling that he’s hiding something from me. We’ve been through hell and back and I take much of the responsibility with the way things have gone but I don’t take it all. If there ever was an example of “He’s Just Not That Into You” then this would be it. He tells me I’m reading too much into things and that he does care about me but when you have to beg somebody to visit you for an hour every 3 weeks then it’s a clear indication that you’re not one of the priorities on his list. I’m not sure if he deserves a “fuck you” or an “I love you.” Either way, he’s the only man to have my heart breaking this bad in the last 8 years.
As if the things I’ve already mentioned weren’t enough to keep me in bed with the covers pulled tightly over my head this happened:
This morning my 23 year old cousin found it a fitting time and medium to call me a whore on Facebook (I should probably mention that my blog is, with the exception of my best friends, anonymous and she has not read it. I also only see her but maybe twice a year as she lives in Hawaii). Not quite sure where the animosity came from but she’s always had a smart mouth. I usually let it slide because she’s family but this morning she was out of line. She was actually responding to a status update I had posted seeking a back transplant due to my back having just gone out (I thought it was funny as did several of my friends. Apparently, she did not). Despite realizing how childish this whole thing was I still engaged in a little Facebook fight for everyone to view. Stupid? Yes. Did I feel better after having schooled the little bitch in common courtesy and manners via the social networking website and email? You bet your ass I did.
However, this little squabble really bothered me. Much more than I even care to admit for it seems like the running theme of my life at the moment. I’m not sure where those close to me get off on feeling it necessary to judge me and make me justify my actions but it’s getting pretty tiresome and old.
So, I’ve been giving this whole episode a little thought. Trying to determine if there really is in fact something desperately wrong with me or in those feeling the need to kick me when I’m down. At this point, I make no apologies for the person that I am. Contrary to what those around me may want to believe I’m rather happy with the person that I have become. I don’t intentionally hurt those around me and I give when I can. I have my vices just like the rest of us and I’m far from perfect. I’m often times selfish and speak my mind but I’m never malicious…unless it’s deserved.
I often get the feeling that because I’m 31, free spirited and still single those around me feel like they have the right to treat me as an irresponsible child. Considering that nobody is supporting me at the moment and I’m taking care of myself I don’t see why family and friends have the right to judge me or burden me with their petty views on what I should or should not be doing. Am I just an easy target because I’m alone? Would I be getting such persecution if I were married? I’m treated as if I’m the wildcard and therefore nobody takes me seriously and they feel completely justified in making remarks and comments letting me know exactly how they feel about the situations in my life. Did I ask them for their opinions? No. Why? Because I don’t care.
I’m not sure what brings all this attention on. Is it jealousy that I’m doing just about whatever the fuck I want? Or is it just a case where people feel so bad about themselves that the need to tear others down without any consideration for others feelings is justified in their minds? I’m not quite sure. As long as I’m not hurting myself or others, these people need to back off and leave me alone.
I realize that by venting on this blog nobody that really needs to know my feelings about this are actually reading but since I can’t afford therapy I’ll take my self prescribed “blog therapy” in lieu of paying a shrink. In reality, I don’t find the need to pay anybody anything to try and figure ME out. I have a very keen awareness of myself and my actions. I know why I am the way I am. I know why I do the things I do. I know how I’ll react in certain situations. Whether or not I choose to listen to myself is another story entirely but as far as figuring ME out, I think I’ve got it pretty well covered and I didn’t have to spend thousands of dollars to do it either.
So, at this point, you know what? I give up. I give up on trying to make those around me happy because no matter what I do it just isn’t going to be good enough. I’m no longer going to seek approval and justification from those I love and those around me. It’s time to look out for number one. And right now number one is me. I’m not even going to apologize for that coming across as abrasive. It is what it is and that’s how I feel. If somebody doesn’t like it they can choose to not be around me. It’s as simple as that. I’m no longer open for “friendly suggestions” or “helpful observations.”
What it boils down to is this. I just want to be happy. I want to be surrounded by those that laugh at my jokes, make me smile and support me emotionally in those times that I do need a shoulder to cry on. I want to be able to support myself financially and take care of those around me. I don’t need to be rich but I want to be stable. I want a man to be by my side that compliments the attributes that I have to offer. Somebody that loves me regardless of my little quirks and idiosyncrasies. I want to eventually have children and a cat. And I just want to be accepted for the person that I am. I’m not sure why these things that seem so simple are so hard to come by but despite these trials and tribulations I still hold out hope that one day I will achieve the goals I have set out for myself.
First and most importantly, my grandmother passed away about three weeks ago. She lived an amazing life and I didn’t think I would take it as hard as I did but the moment I saw her breathe her last breath I felt as though I had been kicked in the gut. As time has gone by I have achieved a certain level of peace with her passing that I haven’t experienced before. My grandfather passed about seven years ago so knowing that she wanted to join him makes me feel as ease that she isn’t alone anymore. But I consider the mourning process to be a very selfish act. It’s for us that are left behind to grieve. I know she’s in a better place and no longer suffering so my tears are only shed because I miss her.
Employment (or lack thereof):
I should probably write “it sucks donkey balls” and leave it at that. But I’m going to elaborate as I’m sure I’m not encountering anything that some of you haven’t come across also. As I’ve mentioned in at least one of my previous posts, I don’t have a degree. Who would have thought that not having this piece of paper would affect my professional career this much? I used to be of the belief that a strong work ethic, stable history and good references stood for something. I’ve been proven wrong. It has come to my attention that “on the job” experience literally means shit in this market. I’m actually appalled by employers these days that post job listings requiring a Bachelors degree with starting pay at $9 an hour. Where does that leave me?
Also, my credit is so disastrous that I should be declaring Martial Law. I’m not sure where these companies get off having the right to run my credit if I’m not applying for a position that requires anything more extensive than answering a multi line phone system but they do. I find it a Catch 22 that with so many people in the same situation as myself their credit is bound to be damaged when put out of a job. To think that I can actually not qualify for a job before I’ve even had the chance to interview due to my poor credit leaves me feeling hopeless.
So, if I hear one more person ask me “have you tried Monster.com or Yahoo Hotjobs yet?” I’m going to shoot myself. Please don’t insult my intelligence by inferring that I haven’t even tried searching for a job on even the most basic of employment networking websites. Trust me when I tell you I’ve tried them all. Even going so far as to apply for anything part time, beneath my experience level and far less than what I need to actually maintain my existence.
Love Life:
My search for love is going about as well as my search for work. I just don’t seem to have the patience any longer to deal with somebody new and their issues. I’m cleaning house with the men in my life at the moment and my online dating life has pretty much come to a stand still. But let me give you a brief rundown as to why my heart and legs are closed tighter than security at the Pentagon.
Nigerian #2 – I won’t even waste a whole 3rd blog entry on him. He had the audacity to tell me I was using him for sex and was argumentative because I felt like sleeping after working a 12 hour day and then driving home from Vegas (a five hour drive). Then when I couldn’t describe my life’s dreams, hopes and aspirations in 30 words or less he said I wasn’t as “driven” as he. Well, fuck him and his trying to shove it in my ass every time I wasn’t paying attention.
The Drummer – You haven’t heard about him yet and you won’t except for this little blurb. He calls himself an actor and a musician. This egotistical asshole has been in and out of my life, at his convenience, for the better part of 4 years. He told me that he’d “be in touch” when I wouldn’t drive out to Silverlake to pick his lazy ass up and then drive him home again in the morning. Especially knowing that I wasn’t working and could barely afford the gas it took to visit my mother. Fuck him for acting like he was doing me a favor by letting me hang out with him.
The Ex – The one true bullet I’ve dodged as an adult. I thought I loved him till he broke my heart over the phone. However, despite having broken up over 8 years ago and him being married with two kids he still calls me to be his side dish. He’s Armenian and I should have known that this little white girl didn’t have a shot in hell of getting married to him. As in stereotypical fashion, he married a good Armenian girl but likes his white meat on the side. He’s a cliché in every meaning of the word. But I really wish he would just leave me alone as I’m not interested in being somebody’s “other” woman. I don’t need anyone’s sloppy seconds. Fuck him for making me feel like a whore.
Ugly John – I met this guy several years ago through a friend. He looks good on paper and has a voice so sexy your panties almost come off by themselves. However, he’s ugly as homemade sin in person. I know that he’s been practically in love with me from the beginning but I’ve never felt any spark for him in a way that makes me want to “settle down.” Perhaps that’s why lately he’s felt it necessary to shit on my dreams and every idea I’ve come up with to try and better my financial situation. He takes playing the devils advocate to a whole new level. Not to mention, the moment I told him I had quit drinking he stopped asking me out. I know this is because he can no longer “drink” me into bed. Fuck him for being desperate and transparent.
The Cop – You’ll hear about him. He’s also the reason why I’ll never date another man in uniform. Unless it’s for UPS or Subway. I never thought somebody could be so devious and outright untruthful. Without going into too much detail and ruining the surprise for when I do write about him let me just tell you that I would have easily given up my devil may care ways to be his lucky lady. So fuck you, Mr. Cop, for lying to me dead in the eye then coming back to try and rip at my heart once more.
Loverboy – You’ll hear about him too. Another selfish prick that wouldn’t spit on you if you were dying of thirst.
The Neighbor - I’ve been in love with this fool for the better part of 2 years. But actions speak louder than any words I could ever write…and I’m a damn good writer. Never trust a man this smooth talking. And no matter what he says I can’t help but get the feeling that he’s hiding something from me. We’ve been through hell and back and I take much of the responsibility with the way things have gone but I don’t take it all. If there ever was an example of “He’s Just Not That Into You” then this would be it. He tells me I’m reading too much into things and that he does care about me but when you have to beg somebody to visit you for an hour every 3 weeks then it’s a clear indication that you’re not one of the priorities on his list. I’m not sure if he deserves a “fuck you” or an “I love you.” Either way, he’s the only man to have my heart breaking this bad in the last 8 years.
As if the things I’ve already mentioned weren’t enough to keep me in bed with the covers pulled tightly over my head this happened:
This morning my 23 year old cousin found it a fitting time and medium to call me a whore on Facebook (I should probably mention that my blog is, with the exception of my best friends, anonymous and she has not read it. I also only see her but maybe twice a year as she lives in Hawaii). Not quite sure where the animosity came from but she’s always had a smart mouth. I usually let it slide because she’s family but this morning she was out of line. She was actually responding to a status update I had posted seeking a back transplant due to my back having just gone out (I thought it was funny as did several of my friends. Apparently, she did not). Despite realizing how childish this whole thing was I still engaged in a little Facebook fight for everyone to view. Stupid? Yes. Did I feel better after having schooled the little bitch in common courtesy and manners via the social networking website and email? You bet your ass I did.
However, this little squabble really bothered me. Much more than I even care to admit for it seems like the running theme of my life at the moment. I’m not sure where those close to me get off on feeling it necessary to judge me and make me justify my actions but it’s getting pretty tiresome and old.
So, I’ve been giving this whole episode a little thought. Trying to determine if there really is in fact something desperately wrong with me or in those feeling the need to kick me when I’m down. At this point, I make no apologies for the person that I am. Contrary to what those around me may want to believe I’m rather happy with the person that I have become. I don’t intentionally hurt those around me and I give when I can. I have my vices just like the rest of us and I’m far from perfect. I’m often times selfish and speak my mind but I’m never malicious…unless it’s deserved.
I often get the feeling that because I’m 31, free spirited and still single those around me feel like they have the right to treat me as an irresponsible child. Considering that nobody is supporting me at the moment and I’m taking care of myself I don’t see why family and friends have the right to judge me or burden me with their petty views on what I should or should not be doing. Am I just an easy target because I’m alone? Would I be getting such persecution if I were married? I’m treated as if I’m the wildcard and therefore nobody takes me seriously and they feel completely justified in making remarks and comments letting me know exactly how they feel about the situations in my life. Did I ask them for their opinions? No. Why? Because I don’t care.
I’m not sure what brings all this attention on. Is it jealousy that I’m doing just about whatever the fuck I want? Or is it just a case where people feel so bad about themselves that the need to tear others down without any consideration for others feelings is justified in their minds? I’m not quite sure. As long as I’m not hurting myself or others, these people need to back off and leave me alone.
I realize that by venting on this blog nobody that really needs to know my feelings about this are actually reading but since I can’t afford therapy I’ll take my self prescribed “blog therapy” in lieu of paying a shrink. In reality, I don’t find the need to pay anybody anything to try and figure ME out. I have a very keen awareness of myself and my actions. I know why I am the way I am. I know why I do the things I do. I know how I’ll react in certain situations. Whether or not I choose to listen to myself is another story entirely but as far as figuring ME out, I think I’ve got it pretty well covered and I didn’t have to spend thousands of dollars to do it either.
So, at this point, you know what? I give up. I give up on trying to make those around me happy because no matter what I do it just isn’t going to be good enough. I’m no longer going to seek approval and justification from those I love and those around me. It’s time to look out for number one. And right now number one is me. I’m not even going to apologize for that coming across as abrasive. It is what it is and that’s how I feel. If somebody doesn’t like it they can choose to not be around me. It’s as simple as that. I’m no longer open for “friendly suggestions” or “helpful observations.”
What it boils down to is this. I just want to be happy. I want to be surrounded by those that laugh at my jokes, make me smile and support me emotionally in those times that I do need a shoulder to cry on. I want to be able to support myself financially and take care of those around me. I don’t need to be rich but I want to be stable. I want a man to be by my side that compliments the attributes that I have to offer. Somebody that loves me regardless of my little quirks and idiosyncrasies. I want to eventually have children and a cat. And I just want to be accepted for the person that I am. I’m not sure why these things that seem so simple are so hard to come by but despite these trials and tribulations I still hold out hope that one day I will achieve the goals I have set out for myself.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
Desperate? Check. Ugly? Check. My dream date!
Only one picture should have been my first clue that something wasn’t quite right. Let me describe the lone picture of my potential Plentyoffish.com blind date. It was barely large enough to fit his whole head. It showed him from the bottom of his neck to the top of his head and from ear to ear. It was so closely cropped that I couldn’t even see the background. Add in mediocre lighting, a bad scan job, a slight haze and that’s what I saw. He resembled the wrestler, Chris Jericho. Now, I don’t usually date blondes, not being particularly fond of looking like the perfect Arian Nation couple but as far as Chris Jericho was concerned, I’d hit that.
Jericho mentioned that he was from a small town and had finally moved to the city. I thought he was cute and I liked the idea of a guy with Midwestern values. My only hang up was that he only had the one picture. I would also come to find out that when he said he was from a small town, he was referring to Seattle. When I hear “small town” I generally think of Bum Fuck Egypt, Missouri. Not the grunge rock band and coffee hub of Washington State. This diamond in the rough was definitely no rocket scientist but for what I had planned his brains wouldn’t be needed.
Considering as much experience as I’ve had, I really should have known better but his one picture was so cute that when I received the quick note from him asking to chat I gave him my Yahoo screen name and told him to hit me up. He didn’t waste much time. Within minutes we were chatting. Right off the bat, I noticed his excessive use of emoticons. I’m not sure why he insisted on following up each sentence with a smiley face but he did. Every. Single. Sentence. As irritated as I can get with the over usage of “LOL” you can only imagine my contempt for the over abundance of the little yellow smiley face.
He lived and worked within minutes of me and had mentioned in his profile that he worked at Universal Studios. It would be a lie if I told you that the idea of free admission to the overly priced park didn’t cross my mind. I was hoping he was one of the higher ups or something awesome like a zombie that scares the shit out of little kids during Halloween. However, it turned out to be nothing exciting like that. Just a “manager”. Of what, I never found out. In a sense, I was actually glad he didn’t turn out to be the campus Clark Gable or alligator tamer. It was just refreshing to be talking to somebody without a headshot. Which, in my neck of the woods is very hard to find.
Right away, he thought I was funny. As alluded to by his 987 smiley face emoticons. He also mentioned it half a dozen times. Just in case the little smiling balls of yellow hadn’t given it away. He wanted to meet for dinner…like yesterday. Said tonight would be a “perfect Blockbuster night :) .” Nothing gets into my pants faster than an overeager nut job and an awkwardly timed cliché.
I broached the subject of pictures with him. Or rather, the lack of. I asked if he had a Facebook or Myspace page. He said that due to his job he didn’t post pictures of himself online. I felt it absolutely necessary to point out that he didn’t work for the CIA and therefore the secrecy was probably a moot point. I’m pretty certain that Universal STUDIOS, located in the ENTERTAINMENT capital of the world wouldn’t have any problem with people marketing themselves with pictures online. There was clearly something wrong with this guy (i.e. ugly or fake picture or both).
He again pushed to meet. I told him flat out that unless I got another picture I would not be meeting him. He asked for my phone number. I again told him no. So, he agreed to send me a picture providing I would agree to meet him for coffee. Reluctantly I did, knowing fully well that I had no intention of getting out of my pj’s unless he really did look like Chris Jericho. I also had to promise “not to plaster his pic all over the internet! :)” Paranoid much?
In his initial picture, he had a slight shag haircut that wasn’t quite below his jaw line. I’m not a huge fan of long hair on men but he was definitely still do-able. He warned me that his hair was a little longer now. I assured him I was ok with that and had dated men in the past with long hair so that wasn’t a deal breaker. It’s like having a bald head. Some men can pull it off. Most can’t, but some can. Hoping that was the only difference I waited with baited breath.
After much begging, bargaining and promising not to flake (apparently this wasn’t his first rodeo) I received the blurry web cam photo. Once the picture of Jericho showed itself, all bets were off. This one was as closely cropped as his profile picture. At this point, I was seriously beginning to wonder if he even had legs. It also appeared as though he had actually turned off the light to take the picture (or rather his roommate must have taken the picture as I wasn’t 100% sure he had arms either). Also, his hair was long indeed. Well, almost to his shoulders from what I could actually tell. He had put on weight, a LOT, aged and developed a serious case of Rosacea. Now let me be clear about something. I myself am overweight and sometimes break out like a 13 year old boy. Some men like it, some don’t (not the acne, but the booty). I don’t much care. However, I post recent pictures because what’s the point of selling me 30 lbs ago? I’m not looking for a fucking pen pal. I’m looking for a date. So the idea of meeting and being outed should my pictures not be recent is not only unfair to my date but also just setting myself up for rejection. Not to mention a huge waste of everybody’s time.
Jericho fired off a list of questions in quick succession. “Did I pass the test? :)”, “Where can we meet? :)”, “What time? :)” Did I want to meet him somewhere or have him pick me up because I would “love his car. :)” Or better yet, he could grab dinner and a movie and just bring them to my place. Oh sure, like that was going to happen. I avoided answering if he had “passed the test” and told him I would meet him somewhere and that I really hoped he didn’t use that line about a girl “loving his car” a lot. I may be alone on this but the first thing I think of when a guy begins to brag about his car is that he’s trying to overcompensate for what’s lacking in the trouser department. Not that I now had any desire to be picturing ugly Jericho Gemini twins little unit.
I was now in a pickle. In order to get the picture I had agreed to meet this fool. But I believe that somewhere in the small print of a verbal confirmation, once a lie has been perpetrated, said contract is no longer viable and therefore null and void. This being said, I was too much of a pussy to let this guy know that our verbal agreement was no longer binding. So, I did the next best thing. I also lied. I asked for his number and said that I would call him in 30 minutes to set things up. Dick move? Absolutely. But no more so than him making me regurgitate my lunch.
Forty five minutes later I emailed him using Plentyoffish.com’s anonymous system saying that “a friend of mine had car trouble and I had to give him a lift. But, rain check?” He responded with a “Sounds Good! :)” and I felt safe for the moment thinking that I had just dodged a bullet. He didn’t have my address, phone number or even email. Just my Yahoo screen name which he could easily be blocked from had he begun to get crazy(er). This man had creepy stalker guy written all over him.
P.S. Everywhere you saw ":)" imagine a little yellow smiley face. I can't for the life of me get the emoticon to appear on this entry :)
Jericho mentioned that he was from a small town and had finally moved to the city. I thought he was cute and I liked the idea of a guy with Midwestern values. My only hang up was that he only had the one picture. I would also come to find out that when he said he was from a small town, he was referring to Seattle. When I hear “small town” I generally think of Bum Fuck Egypt, Missouri. Not the grunge rock band and coffee hub of Washington State. This diamond in the rough was definitely no rocket scientist but for what I had planned his brains wouldn’t be needed.
Considering as much experience as I’ve had, I really should have known better but his one picture was so cute that when I received the quick note from him asking to chat I gave him my Yahoo screen name and told him to hit me up. He didn’t waste much time. Within minutes we were chatting. Right off the bat, I noticed his excessive use of emoticons. I’m not sure why he insisted on following up each sentence with a smiley face but he did. Every. Single. Sentence. As irritated as I can get with the over usage of “LOL” you can only imagine my contempt for the over abundance of the little yellow smiley face.
He lived and worked within minutes of me and had mentioned in his profile that he worked at Universal Studios. It would be a lie if I told you that the idea of free admission to the overly priced park didn’t cross my mind. I was hoping he was one of the higher ups or something awesome like a zombie that scares the shit out of little kids during Halloween. However, it turned out to be nothing exciting like that. Just a “manager”. Of what, I never found out. In a sense, I was actually glad he didn’t turn out to be the campus Clark Gable or alligator tamer. It was just refreshing to be talking to somebody without a headshot. Which, in my neck of the woods is very hard to find.
Right away, he thought I was funny. As alluded to by his 987 smiley face emoticons. He also mentioned it half a dozen times. Just in case the little smiling balls of yellow hadn’t given it away. He wanted to meet for dinner…like yesterday. Said tonight would be a “perfect Blockbuster night :) .” Nothing gets into my pants faster than an overeager nut job and an awkwardly timed cliché.
I broached the subject of pictures with him. Or rather, the lack of. I asked if he had a Facebook or Myspace page. He said that due to his job he didn’t post pictures of himself online. I felt it absolutely necessary to point out that he didn’t work for the CIA and therefore the secrecy was probably a moot point. I’m pretty certain that Universal STUDIOS, located in the ENTERTAINMENT capital of the world wouldn’t have any problem with people marketing themselves with pictures online. There was clearly something wrong with this guy (i.e. ugly or fake picture or both).
He again pushed to meet. I told him flat out that unless I got another picture I would not be meeting him. He asked for my phone number. I again told him no. So, he agreed to send me a picture providing I would agree to meet him for coffee. Reluctantly I did, knowing fully well that I had no intention of getting out of my pj’s unless he really did look like Chris Jericho. I also had to promise “not to plaster his pic all over the internet! :)” Paranoid much?
In his initial picture, he had a slight shag haircut that wasn’t quite below his jaw line. I’m not a huge fan of long hair on men but he was definitely still do-able. He warned me that his hair was a little longer now. I assured him I was ok with that and had dated men in the past with long hair so that wasn’t a deal breaker. It’s like having a bald head. Some men can pull it off. Most can’t, but some can. Hoping that was the only difference I waited with baited breath.
After much begging, bargaining and promising not to flake (apparently this wasn’t his first rodeo) I received the blurry web cam photo. Once the picture of Jericho showed itself, all bets were off. This one was as closely cropped as his profile picture. At this point, I was seriously beginning to wonder if he even had legs. It also appeared as though he had actually turned off the light to take the picture (or rather his roommate must have taken the picture as I wasn’t 100% sure he had arms either). Also, his hair was long indeed. Well, almost to his shoulders from what I could actually tell. He had put on weight, a LOT, aged and developed a serious case of Rosacea. Now let me be clear about something. I myself am overweight and sometimes break out like a 13 year old boy. Some men like it, some don’t (not the acne, but the booty). I don’t much care. However, I post recent pictures because what’s the point of selling me 30 lbs ago? I’m not looking for a fucking pen pal. I’m looking for a date. So the idea of meeting and being outed should my pictures not be recent is not only unfair to my date but also just setting myself up for rejection. Not to mention a huge waste of everybody’s time.
Jericho fired off a list of questions in quick succession. “Did I pass the test? :)”, “Where can we meet? :)”, “What time? :)” Did I want to meet him somewhere or have him pick me up because I would “love his car. :)” Or better yet, he could grab dinner and a movie and just bring them to my place. Oh sure, like that was going to happen. I avoided answering if he had “passed the test” and told him I would meet him somewhere and that I really hoped he didn’t use that line about a girl “loving his car” a lot. I may be alone on this but the first thing I think of when a guy begins to brag about his car is that he’s trying to overcompensate for what’s lacking in the trouser department. Not that I now had any desire to be picturing ugly Jericho Gemini twins little unit.
I was now in a pickle. In order to get the picture I had agreed to meet this fool. But I believe that somewhere in the small print of a verbal confirmation, once a lie has been perpetrated, said contract is no longer viable and therefore null and void. This being said, I was too much of a pussy to let this guy know that our verbal agreement was no longer binding. So, I did the next best thing. I also lied. I asked for his number and said that I would call him in 30 minutes to set things up. Dick move? Absolutely. But no more so than him making me regurgitate my lunch.
Forty five minutes later I emailed him using Plentyoffish.com’s anonymous system saying that “a friend of mine had car trouble and I had to give him a lift. But, rain check?” He responded with a “Sounds Good! :)” and I felt safe for the moment thinking that I had just dodged a bullet. He didn’t have my address, phone number or even email. Just my Yahoo screen name which he could easily be blocked from had he begun to get crazy(er). This man had creepy stalker guy written all over him.
P.S. Everywhere you saw ":)" imagine a little yellow smiley face. I can't for the life of me get the emoticon to appear on this entry :)
Monday, October 12, 2009
The Bumblebee Community called...they want their color scheme back
Never meet a guy without seeing a picture first! Those are the nine most important words of advice I can give in regards to Online Dating. Just. Don’t. Do. It.
EVER.
I met Mr. Bumblebee on Match.com at the beginning of my online dating foray. At the time, I was working for a National Insurance Company and as luck would have it, he was one of our independent agents. Being new to the game I wasn’t as adamant about making sure I had plenty of pictures to go by. In lieu of these pictures I simply did my research of him from within my own company walls. I contacted the marketing rep for his territory and grilled her on my new potential match. The glowing recommendation I received was more than enough for me to agree to continue on with our plans on meeting face to face without pictures. The marketing rep assured me that he was extremely nice, “oh so cute” and had “the most beautiful olive skin.” Miss Liar described him as tall, with black hair and brown eyes. I was sold. Really, she had me at “tall”. It should have donned on me that I was asking a salesman to sell me on the idea of meeting this independent agent. I was being double teamed…and not in a good way.
We decided to meet on a Friday night in Old Town Pasadena. There would be lots of restaurants and bars to choose from and plenty of people around should I need a quick escape. Since I had a rule that I never walk into a bar alone we decided to meet at the corner in front of a bagel shop. Since we hadn’t actually seen pictures of each other we had to go on our own descriptions. I told him I would be the 6’ tall blonde in black. After all, with heels on I am actually 6’ tall and with my blonde hair and fantastic rack I’m kind of hard not to notice. I don’t mean to toot my own horn but I sort of rock in the busty blonde department. The Agent told me that he was “about” 6’ tall (which I know now really means 5’8”). He also said he had been told by many that he looked like Carson Daly. I didn’t particularly think that Carson Daly was gorgeous but he was no elephant man.
I got to Pasadena a little early because I wanted to see him before he saw me. I found my little corner and braced myself. He called me on my cell phone to say he was in the area looking for parking and that he was driving a yellow Amigo. Sure enough, as soon as I hung up the phone I saw the little girlish, yellow jeep drive by. It seemed even more ridiculous after actually seeing it in person and the visual I had of Carson Daly driving the yellow Amigo was enough to make me giggle to myself as it certainly did not portray the manly image I was hoping for.
I waited for about 10 more minutes knowing that finding parking on a Friday night might take him a while. Then, from across the street I saw a tall, dark and cute Carson Daly look alike. I began to smile thinking that perhaps this was going to be okay after all. Carson was looking right at me and I was certain that this must be the Amigo driving agent. Being pleasantly surprised I stepped to the curb anticipating our first meeting in the flesh. Carson walked right up to me and with a twinkle in his eye handed me a flyer for a near by event. Apparently, and much to my dismay, this was not my agent. I stood there stunned for a moment. This guy was 6’ tall, had dark hair, olive skin and seriously looked like Carson Daly! What are the odds?
A moment later I was approached by another gentleman. He had seen me standing alone and came up to say hi as I’m sure by this point I probably looked like a lady of the night. I explained that I was waiting for a blind date and he suggested I ditch the date and grab a beer with him instead. After my disappointment with the Carson look alike and seeing the Amigo I was definitely tempted but even I’m not THAT much of a bitch. Okay, I am but that’s neither here nor there. However, I welcomed the conversation since I had just spent the last 15 minutes waiting for a stranger looking like some hooker working the corner of Colorado Blvd. and De Lacey.
As we were chatting I looked again across the street and saw “the agent.” I knew it had to be him because he was staring straight at me…and short. And in a small way he did actually resemble Carson Daly in that they had the same hair color. Actually, him telling me that he resembled Carson Daly would be much like me telling you that I resemble Selma Hayek. Sure, we are both women but that’s where the resemblance stops cold. When I saw the outfit the agent was wearing, I almost bolted for the nearest open door for fear of being stung. He was wearing black shoes, black slacks, a black T-shirt and to complete his outfit, a yellow leather (or rather, pleather) jacket. As if the yellow Amigo wasn’t bad enough I was going on a date with a grown man dressed as a fucking bumblebee. I stifled my laugh and introduced myself as it was clearly too late to run.
Having gotten over the initial shock of his amazing ability to match his vehicle we walked over to the local sports bar. The fact that I was at least 5” taller than him didn’t help matters either. We found a booth and Bumblebee kept finding it necessary to practically sit on my lap. Despite me continuously inching away from him. At one point, I had to actually turn in the booth so that I was facing him and put my knee up on the seat between us just to give myself some personal space. It didn’t take long before he was inviting me to Mexico for Thanksgiving. Apparently, he didn’t believe in wasting any time. I could see what had made him such a good salesman. The only problem was that I wasn’t interested in what he was selling.
The sports bar we were in had a dance floor and being Friday night they had a DJ. Bumblebee told me that he wanted to dance but I lied and said I had hurt my foot at work and ordered another Double. The idea of him trying to bump and grind his crotch with what I’m almost certain was an itty bitty erection was too appalling to even consider.
At this point, he started to massage the back of my neck. If he had been the hottie I was hoping for the physical contact would have been welcomed but coming from a man dressed as an insect I didn’t want his hands anywhere near me. I shrugged them off and asked him to stop. It was still quite apparent that my hints of disinterest were not getting through to him, even when I asked him to tell the bartender to turn up the volume on the TV that was on above the bar. He thought I was joking even though I don’t remember stuttering when I said it. Finally, I felt as though I had given him a respectable about of time and told him I was exhausted from a long work week and needed to get home.
Bumblebee Man insisted on walking me to my car and while en route grabbed my hand and tried to show me some of his salsa moves. As soon as he tried to spin me I ducked into my purse, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I was seriously hoping that he was one of those people that considered smoking to be a deal breaker. I had never hoped for someone to find me so repulsive in all my life. But even that didn’t deter him. At the very least, I hoped that it would keep him from trying to give me a kiss good night. But as luck would have it the Bumblebee didn’t mind the smoke. Oh yay. The desperation this guy exuded was palpable. I almost felt sorry for him. I wasn’t really trying to be rude. I was just trying to get and keep his hands off of me.
Once we got to my car I felt that it would be rude not to offer him a ride back to his since he was parked in a different parking structure several blocks away. After all, he was a nice guy, I just wasn’t interested in dating insects with wondering hands. I pulled up just outside his parking structure. As I yawned he continued to talk about going here and there together and even wanted me to accompany him to a party the following night which I politely declined. I couldn’t get this guy to shut up! Finally, I interrupted him by (AGAIN) telling him how tired I was and thanked him for the cocktails. He wanted a hug good bye so I leaned over and he STILL went in for the kiss. Thanks to my speedy thinking and foresight that Mr. NotSoBright was going to try anyway, I managed to turn my head just in time. His lips found my cheek just as I ducked to open his car door since he had apparently forgotten how to do so on his own. He reluctantly got out of the car and said he would call me later. Which he did and which I didn’t answer. He tried calling several times after that but he must have finally gotten it into his head that there was going to be no “us” and gave up.
EVER.
I met Mr. Bumblebee on Match.com at the beginning of my online dating foray. At the time, I was working for a National Insurance Company and as luck would have it, he was one of our independent agents. Being new to the game I wasn’t as adamant about making sure I had plenty of pictures to go by. In lieu of these pictures I simply did my research of him from within my own company walls. I contacted the marketing rep for his territory and grilled her on my new potential match. The glowing recommendation I received was more than enough for me to agree to continue on with our plans on meeting face to face without pictures. The marketing rep assured me that he was extremely nice, “oh so cute” and had “the most beautiful olive skin.” Miss Liar described him as tall, with black hair and brown eyes. I was sold. Really, she had me at “tall”. It should have donned on me that I was asking a salesman to sell me on the idea of meeting this independent agent. I was being double teamed…and not in a good way.
We decided to meet on a Friday night in Old Town Pasadena. There would be lots of restaurants and bars to choose from and plenty of people around should I need a quick escape. Since I had a rule that I never walk into a bar alone we decided to meet at the corner in front of a bagel shop. Since we hadn’t actually seen pictures of each other we had to go on our own descriptions. I told him I would be the 6’ tall blonde in black. After all, with heels on I am actually 6’ tall and with my blonde hair and fantastic rack I’m kind of hard not to notice. I don’t mean to toot my own horn but I sort of rock in the busty blonde department. The Agent told me that he was “about” 6’ tall (which I know now really means 5’8”). He also said he had been told by many that he looked like Carson Daly. I didn’t particularly think that Carson Daly was gorgeous but he was no elephant man.
I got to Pasadena a little early because I wanted to see him before he saw me. I found my little corner and braced myself. He called me on my cell phone to say he was in the area looking for parking and that he was driving a yellow Amigo. Sure enough, as soon as I hung up the phone I saw the little girlish, yellow jeep drive by. It seemed even more ridiculous after actually seeing it in person and the visual I had of Carson Daly driving the yellow Amigo was enough to make me giggle to myself as it certainly did not portray the manly image I was hoping for.
I waited for about 10 more minutes knowing that finding parking on a Friday night might take him a while. Then, from across the street I saw a tall, dark and cute Carson Daly look alike. I began to smile thinking that perhaps this was going to be okay after all. Carson was looking right at me and I was certain that this must be the Amigo driving agent. Being pleasantly surprised I stepped to the curb anticipating our first meeting in the flesh. Carson walked right up to me and with a twinkle in his eye handed me a flyer for a near by event. Apparently, and much to my dismay, this was not my agent. I stood there stunned for a moment. This guy was 6’ tall, had dark hair, olive skin and seriously looked like Carson Daly! What are the odds?
A moment later I was approached by another gentleman. He had seen me standing alone and came up to say hi as I’m sure by this point I probably looked like a lady of the night. I explained that I was waiting for a blind date and he suggested I ditch the date and grab a beer with him instead. After my disappointment with the Carson look alike and seeing the Amigo I was definitely tempted but even I’m not THAT much of a bitch. Okay, I am but that’s neither here nor there. However, I welcomed the conversation since I had just spent the last 15 minutes waiting for a stranger looking like some hooker working the corner of Colorado Blvd. and De Lacey.
As we were chatting I looked again across the street and saw “the agent.” I knew it had to be him because he was staring straight at me…and short. And in a small way he did actually resemble Carson Daly in that they had the same hair color. Actually, him telling me that he resembled Carson Daly would be much like me telling you that I resemble Selma Hayek. Sure, we are both women but that’s where the resemblance stops cold. When I saw the outfit the agent was wearing, I almost bolted for the nearest open door for fear of being stung. He was wearing black shoes, black slacks, a black T-shirt and to complete his outfit, a yellow leather (or rather, pleather) jacket. As if the yellow Amigo wasn’t bad enough I was going on a date with a grown man dressed as a fucking bumblebee. I stifled my laugh and introduced myself as it was clearly too late to run.
Having gotten over the initial shock of his amazing ability to match his vehicle we walked over to the local sports bar. The fact that I was at least 5” taller than him didn’t help matters either. We found a booth and Bumblebee kept finding it necessary to practically sit on my lap. Despite me continuously inching away from him. At one point, I had to actually turn in the booth so that I was facing him and put my knee up on the seat between us just to give myself some personal space. It didn’t take long before he was inviting me to Mexico for Thanksgiving. Apparently, he didn’t believe in wasting any time. I could see what had made him such a good salesman. The only problem was that I wasn’t interested in what he was selling.
The sports bar we were in had a dance floor and being Friday night they had a DJ. Bumblebee told me that he wanted to dance but I lied and said I had hurt my foot at work and ordered another Double. The idea of him trying to bump and grind his crotch with what I’m almost certain was an itty bitty erection was too appalling to even consider.
At this point, he started to massage the back of my neck. If he had been the hottie I was hoping for the physical contact would have been welcomed but coming from a man dressed as an insect I didn’t want his hands anywhere near me. I shrugged them off and asked him to stop. It was still quite apparent that my hints of disinterest were not getting through to him, even when I asked him to tell the bartender to turn up the volume on the TV that was on above the bar. He thought I was joking even though I don’t remember stuttering when I said it. Finally, I felt as though I had given him a respectable about of time and told him I was exhausted from a long work week and needed to get home.
Bumblebee Man insisted on walking me to my car and while en route grabbed my hand and tried to show me some of his salsa moves. As soon as he tried to spin me I ducked into my purse, pulled out a cigarette and lit it. I was seriously hoping that he was one of those people that considered smoking to be a deal breaker. I had never hoped for someone to find me so repulsive in all my life. But even that didn’t deter him. At the very least, I hoped that it would keep him from trying to give me a kiss good night. But as luck would have it the Bumblebee didn’t mind the smoke. Oh yay. The desperation this guy exuded was palpable. I almost felt sorry for him. I wasn’t really trying to be rude. I was just trying to get and keep his hands off of me.
Once we got to my car I felt that it would be rude not to offer him a ride back to his since he was parked in a different parking structure several blocks away. After all, he was a nice guy, I just wasn’t interested in dating insects with wondering hands. I pulled up just outside his parking structure. As I yawned he continued to talk about going here and there together and even wanted me to accompany him to a party the following night which I politely declined. I couldn’t get this guy to shut up! Finally, I interrupted him by (AGAIN) telling him how tired I was and thanked him for the cocktails. He wanted a hug good bye so I leaned over and he STILL went in for the kiss. Thanks to my speedy thinking and foresight that Mr. NotSoBright was going to try anyway, I managed to turn my head just in time. His lips found my cheek just as I ducked to open his car door since he had apparently forgotten how to do so on his own. He reluctantly got out of the car and said he would call me later. Which he did and which I didn’t answer. He tried calling several times after that but he must have finally gotten it into his head that there was going to be no “us” and gave up.
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