If Your Date Shows Up Wearing A Shirt Covered In One Of These...

If Your Date Shows Up Wearing A Shirt Covered In One Of These...

Thursday, November 18, 2010

One Hit Wonder on his Eternal Tour

When my date showed up under the pretenses that we would do dinner and a late movie, there "Mr. Tambourine Man" stood on my doorstep with his guitar case in tow. I thought, this could possibly add a small "Twist and Shout" to the night. Besides, "Live and let die" right? Well, he made himself welcome and proceeded to "Party like a Rockstar" on my couch as my stomach grumbled for that dinner he promised. "Tik Tok"....Four strumingly painful hours later, I thought "Imma Be" going into Ketosis soon and was praying "Janie had a gun".

I think my growling middle section must have struck a chord with him, cuz he stood up, put his guitar away and then I thought he finally found some
"R-E-S-P-E-C-T" to take me to dinner and stop capatilizing on his self proclaimed talent. So, I stood up, ready to go, instead he put his arms around me and thanked me for the evening. My response...."Mmmm Whatchasay?"

He left.

Disaster # 127 was a "Bad Romance"


Friday, October 22, 2010

Bi The Way...

He was a handsome, well-to-do man with an exotic car. He took me on 3 dates and I enjoyed his company. One day he booked an amazing couples massage at one of the more prestigious salons in town. After our massage, we decided to partake in all of the spas' luxuries. We sipped on cucumber water, soaked our feet in mineral baths and later, relaxed in the steam room where things began to get "steamy". In the "mist" of kissing and flirting my date proceeded to ask if I had ever kissed a girl...which obviously opened up a couple of questions in my mind---"Is he a pervert?" or "Has one of his past girlfriends left him for another woman?" Before I could even formulate an answer, he interrupted my minds maze and blurted out ...."Because I've had multiple partners, both male and female...are you cool with that?"

Disaster # 224


Thursday, October 14, 2010

Mirror Mirror On The Wall

He was cute-ish. Definitely not model-esque by any stretch of the imagination. And he suffered from an incurable disease that my friends and I referred to as ‘R.F.’ Or in layman’s terms Rage Factor. Yet the innate requirement that I have to surround myself with guys who are in desperate need of being repaired due to their emotional childhood issues somehow kept me coming back for more. I know, I know…my therapist recently diagnosed me with Rihanna-itis.

A few months into our relationship I found myself walking into a store with Dr. Jekyll to browse for an 80’s movie that we were both desperate to watch. As we entered the premises I noticed an employee standing near the entrance. He casually glanced in our direction and gave us a very nonchalant smile as we passed him. Immediately from my peripheral vision I could see Mr. Hyde’s head execute a seamless impersonation of Linda Blair from the critically acclaimed movie “The Exorcist”. I was already visualizing being forced to clean up the green projectile vomit that I was sure was going to start spewing from his orifice any second now.

"Are you f*ing kidding me?" He bellowed. “You’re really going to flirt with some douche bag right in front of me?!” The poor acne faced 16 year-old employee abandoned his post faster then the dissolution of Britney and K-Fed’s marriage. For those of you who know me I am seldom, if ever, at a loss for words…but he had accomplished something that no one else to date has been able to do…he left me totally, completely and utterly speechless. As I stood there in sheer bewilderment, Mr. R.F.McDoogan’s seething rant persisted. “Do you know why your flirting doesn’t bother me? Because I’m WAY better looking then you are…and I could have ANY girl that I wanted. So you go ahead and keep flirting with these guys because I’m going to have sex with the next girl I see!” And with that he turned around, stormed out of the building and left me there to find my own ride home.

If your date, or a loved one, has recently been diagnosed with R.F. --- UNDATABLE!

Wednesday, October 13, 2010

Save A Horse...Ride A Cowboy

I believe first and foremost that the biggest issue we were going to face was the idea that we had met at a rodeo. I’m not saying that there isn’t some good ‘ol fashioned, down home troddin’, line dance sprawlin’ fun to be had at a rodeo.  I’m simply saying that the odds of meeting a guy with whom you could date seriously, introduce to the family, proceed to court, get engaged, enter into a martial contract, procreate, and find yourself seated next to on some old rickety front porch, rocking back and forth in an aged rocking chair sipping Country Time Lemonade watching your posterity engage in recreational activities on your front lawn is almost certainly slim to none.

I’m going to go out on a limb here and say that the second biggest issue at hand (IMOTOAG) was that by all intents and purposes I am without a doubt, what most people would refer to as a “City Girl”. I know what you’re thinking, with that particular phrase comes a lot of negative connotation…but I don’t necessarily consider all of the stigma that goes along with being a “City Girl” as unscrupulous.  I think it merely means that I find bugs, insects and other creatures repugnant.  I believe that ultimately camping is Mother Nature’s way of promoting the hotel industry.  I’ve found over the years that I’m deathly allegoric to port-o-potties. I think the idea of sleeping under the stars, whilst sprawled out in a bag that solely has one opening and utilizes flannel as its chief device to try and keep you warm, should be considered abuse. Or neglect. Or both.

That does NOT however deem me to be high maintenance. I can get down and dirty with the best of ‘em. (TWSS) I’ve got three older brothers who have taught me how to be resilient and robust…despite the fact that I bruise like a peach. 

All of this being said, I found myself indisputably eager for my date with Mr. Cowboy McBullRider, so much so that when the doorbell rang the butterflies in my stomach instantaneously began to flutter. I raced down the stairs, threw the door open and greeted him with an embrace. We walked arm-in-arm down my walkway and then I saw it. The mode of transportation that my date regarded as perfectly acceptable to tool around town in was in actuality a HORSE!

If your date picks you up on a horse and he's not wearing a suit of armor…UNDATABLE!

Friday, October 1, 2010

Can't We All Just Get Along?

We met at a party and he was extraordinarily good looking. So when he asked for my phone number I obviously had no reservations giving it to him. Date #1 was followed by date #2 which inadvertently led to date #3. By date #4 I knew I liked him. A lot. He picked me up and as per usual was quick to compliment the way I looked. He then followed up his initial flattering words with something that unquestionably baffled the hell outta me. "I guess I half expected you to be dressed in basketball shorts...I mean, due to the fact that you're Polynesian. Call it 'Racial Profiling' I'm just used to seeing Tongan girls in basketball shorts." Apparently he missed the memo where I'm only half Poly. Sheesh. I gave him what I can only imagine was a look of sheer bewilderment, but due to my being totally and utterly perplexed, didn't say anything else to him as we headed to his car. 

The dialogue on the way to the restaurant was strained, though I tried to keep an optimistic attitude. The conversation then switched to the whole 'where do you see yourself in five years?' mode, and my date chimed in..."I really think we'd make beautiful babies together. But of course I'd want them to have my skin color." Immediately I inquired why he would say that, to which he replied, "Well I guess because I can visualize it now. I can picture them driving down State Street and having an officer pull them over due to the fact that their skin is brown and just automatically assuming that they're in a gang. Not to mention, statistically speaking of course, that if they ended up being brown, odds are that they'd either end up on welfare or in prison. I'm just saying that it would be easier for them if they were white."

If your date is a racist...UNDATABLE!

Monday, September 27, 2010

Just BEAT It!

Crime scene: Popular Mexican Restaurant; Historic Downtown Provo
Time: 13:00 hours
Weather condition: Eerily chilly
Witnesses: Yours truly
Usual suspect: Disaster # 48

Report: The suspect was described as a white male, 5'9, medium brown hair, blue eyes, approx. 180 lbs. Wearing a tank top and sandals with socks. (Clearly guilty!)

Dinner and conversation turned deadly when he confessed that he had been divorced, or rather "left" by his wife because he abused her.

Judgement: Time served will NOT be with me!

If your date wears a wife beater, or IS a wife beater...UNDATABLE!

Sunday, September 26, 2010

The Cat's Meow

He asked me to pick him up, which was okay by me because his car had recently been totaled. Naturally it tugged at my heart strings a little so I had no qualms taking one for the team. Because after all, there is no ‘I’ in TEAM.  However, there is an ‘ME.’ Just something to contemplate…

As I pulled up to his house I remember having the distinct impression how commendable it was that he lived in such an affluent neighborhood…and that his home was remarkably nice. What’s more, he even owned it. I sauntered up his front walkway and instantly collided with an odor so foul, it would be enough to make a grown man cry. (And a Polynesian one at that!) Immediately I started searching for the source of the atrocious stench, starting with my own underarms. But as I was doing so I abruptly remembered it couldn’t possibly be me. Because I don’t sweat, I glisten.
I rang the doorbell and as I waited for my date to answer I was literally compelled to hold my nose due to the aroma that had affixed itself to me much like the Stage 5 Clinger I had just broken up with. Five minutes later there I still stood, extremely light headed and notably dizzy from trying to hold my breath like I was some Olympic Synchronized Gold Medalist or something. At this point I realized I was going to have to let myself in to see what was taking my date so long, or face the embarrassment of having him find me sprawled out on his doorstep, having passed out from the insurmountable stink that hovered over his residence. As I warily opened the door I was met with a scene that due to the graphic nature, could only be described through pictures rather than words:

If your date is scheduled to appear on the next episode of Animal Planet's popular series: Cat Hoarding---Buried Alive...UNDATABLE!

Friday, September 24, 2010

What's In A Name?

I would consider myself a fairly bright girl. I mean, this cranium is definitely more than just a hat rack. So I am well aware of the fact that my name isn't exactly what you'd call 'ordinary.' It's unusual. Different. Atypical. Uncommon. Distinctive. Unique. But to my parents' credit it isn't as though it's your average Polynesian name either. It's not as if my name were: Fa'amamafakainoia...not that there's anything wrong with that.

Fast forward X amount of years and there I sat having dinner with a guy at a fairly posh restaurant, on our third date. As our waitress descended upon our table he glanced up from his menu and inquired, "Do you know what you're gonna order Gina?" My initial reaction was to quip back "DAAAAAANNNNGGGG Gina!" in the most paramount Martin voice I could muster, but quickly retracted that thought because I opted to give him the benefit of the doubt, chalking it up to what was possibly a large amount of wax build up in my ears and reckoning that I had simply heard him wrong.

A little while later our waitress came back to check on us and asked us the conventional questions regarding our meal. And once again I heard my date ask, "Galina, do you need another Diet Coke?" Now, believe me when I tell you that due to the fact that I was in mid bite of my mediocre-at-best-fillet-of-fish, I literally began choking on my own 'lil piece of Nemo. I knew at this point that Mr.Alzheimer VonForgetful was thoroughly unaware of what my name really was. But being as long-suffering as I am, I again made the conscious decision not to say anything to him for a 3-fold reason really...1) He hadn't felt the need to begin our date with a prayer. 2) He was going to pay. 3) He drove.

So there we sat, in what could best be described as an abnormally long, awkward, uncomfortable silence waiting for our dessert to arrive. As it was being delivered my date casually gazed across the heaping mound of gooey, caloric-filled pastry goodness that sat in front of us and said, "Why don't you go ahead and take the first bite, Ghana." I half expected him to categorically believe that if my first name were in fact 'Ghana' then surely he must believe my last name was indeed "Rhea"...

I had reached my breaking point. I began rummaging through my purse, dug out my magnetic name tag that I sport daily at work, and clipped it on my jacket. That way for the rest of the evening, he had it in plain sight for direct reference.

If your date can't remember your name...UNDATABLE!

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Speaking Of 'Multiplying & Replenishing'...

12 dates…that’s right, that isn’t an error, or a misprint, we were on our twelfth date...and we had even had the D.T.R. discussion.  And though we had decided not to be exclusive, (due to my inability to be emotionally available) I visualized it heading in that direction.

So there he stood, patiently waiting while I finished getting ready with a look of total, unreserved adoration. *sigh*

As we headed out the door and proceeded to his truck hand-in-hand, I found myself perma-grinning all the way down the walkway. Without warning my date came to a sudden and complete halt. His face held a look of sheer epiphany. Instantaneously I noticed tiny beads of sweat appear on his forehead. His palms became cold and clammy. I could literally see his underarm perspiration start to seep through his ultra fitted, one-size-does-NOT-fit-all Affliction shirt. “Can we take your car?” I heard him stammer. I informed him that I hadn’t had time to get gas after I had left work and proceeded to walk to his truck. He very hesitantly opened my door for me all while continuing to have the look of absolute distress plastered all over his face.  As I crawled into the cab of his truck I glanced over my shoulder and there in the back seat sat not one, not two, but three apparatuses that were manufactured to hold ones offspring. As he sheepishly entered the vehicle I asked him who the car seats belonged to…at which point he awkwardly revealed that he did indeed have three kids.

If your date doesn’t bother mentioning (before date #12!) that he has children…UNDATABLE!

Thursday, September 16, 2010

Isn't It About...Time?

In the majority of the “relationships” I’ve been in, I’ve been the giver. While the D.B.'s I've dated have solidified their place as the takers. That’s definitely not me bragging…or being narcissistic…or tooting my own horn; I’m merely stating facts.

I recently found myself dating a guy who appeared to be the total package. College grad, great job, athletic, charming, funny, good looking, six pack, yada, yada, yada.  As his birthday approached I started to contemplate the ever important gift giving ideas, and began mulling them over in my head. I even started making lists on scratch paper so I could be sure to emphasize the pros, abolish the cons, and somehow try to procure the perfect gift. 

I didn’t want to give him your typical “U.C.-girl run-of-the-mill-come-to-my-house-while-I-make-you-dinner-and-allow-you-to-do-the-‘Provo Push’-with-me” kind of gift. I wanted it to have significance. After days of contemplating I settled on the newest limited edition Nixon watch, which despite costing almost a whole months salary, was so ideal, I knew that he had to have it.

His birthday had finally arrived and after surprising him with dinner at his favorite restaurant (complete with The Sweet Tooth Fairy’s red velvet cupcakes...his absolute FAV!) I pulled out the flawlessly wrapped package that represented hours of pondering/lack of sleep/pressure. As he ripped apart the blue and silver wrapping paper I couldn’t help but beam…I was sure I’d found the epitome of what could quite possibly go down in history as the World’s Most Superlative Gift Ever! I was watching him intently, bracing myself for the massive bear hug I was sure to receive, but as he stared at my masterpiece, turning it over and over again in his hands, his affect remained flat. There was about as much emotion on his face as Rain Man. He then looked up at me and said in the most imperturbable voice “I don’t like it, the face of the watch just isn’t big enough. Why don’t you go ahead and return it and when you’re at the store picking out a different one just text me pictures of the ones you’re looking at and I’ll let you know if it’ll work for me.”

If your date asks you to return the watch you purchased for him for his birthday because the “Face isn't big enough!”…UNDATABLE!

Monday, September 13, 2010


He approached me while I was grocery shopping and was bold enough to ask me for my phone number. "Why not?" I asked myself, after all my B.F.F. and I had decided that at this point in our dating career, it was strictly a number's game...so I decided to bide my time, and agreed to go out with him.

A few weeks later I found myself out with Mr. Grocery Store McCompliment, and he had taken me out 4-wheeling and was even insightful enough to pack us a picnic lunch. All-in-all a really well planned, thought out date. I did however, find it bizarre that anytime I took out my camera to take pictures, he was really quick to ask..."You're not gonna tag me on Facebook, right?"

The day ended and as he was taking me home mentioned what a great time he had had and that although he was headed out of the country for work, he'd love to see me again when he returned. A little while later I finally got around to posting the pictures on Facebook, but as requested did not tag him in any of the photos.  Fast forward a few more days when I again found myself at the grocery store but this time around I ran into a friend from college whom I hadn't seen in years.  Apparently, unbenounced to me, he and I were also in fact 'Facebook Friends.' (How is a girl expected to keep track after she reaches 2,000 + friends?!) After chewing the fat and spending some time catching up on life he mentioned that he had seen the pictures I had posted of my latest outing. He then proceeded to ask me the mother of all questions..."Why wasn't Mr. Married McR.M.'s  E.C. (a.k.a. Eternal Companion/Wife) in any of the pictures?!"

If your date is married...UNDATABLE!

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Pervert Or Pure Love Of Christ?...You Be The Judge

In my endeavor to meet Mr. Right, a guy who I had met only once called me up late one evening and asked if he could stop by because he..."Happened to be in the neighborhood." I had worked late and had decided to hit the gym afterwards, so after such a long day I welcomed the company. We both ended up pulling into my driveway at the same time, which left me no time to freshen up. Alas, being the fabulous hostess that I am I turned on the TV for him while I quickly showered. As I opened the bathroom door that led to my master bedroom, I immediately saw what looked like a pile of mens clothing on the floor--britches and all. The inner-voice that we all posses was screaming at me not to look up, but that other inner-voice, the one that ultimatley makes us all turn into rubber neckers as we pass horrific accidents on the side of the freeway, totally overpowered it and I had no choice but to gawk at the hot mess that was in front of me. There he stood, in all his glory, Disaster # 604, trying to attempt a smoldering look on his face...like I had ordered the Skin-a-max or something. Does anyone out there know how I would go about trying to stab my minds eye out?! Nevertheless, my mother has always taught me to give people the benefit of the doubt. So I found myself contemplating the 2 obvious options. 1) Was he literally trying to give me the clothes off his back? OR 2) Was his intention to try and 'tag' this like a Facebook Photo? One will never know, because I picked up his clothes, and sent him packing. Literally. Not figuratively.

I believe Confucius said it best when he said: "Never take "Sch-Long" time in the shower when you have company waiting."

If your date turns your bedroom into a nudist colony...Then GURRRLL YOU KNOW THAT IS....UNDATABLE!

Saturday, September 11, 2010

Princess Leia Is Duped Again

He was hot. Really hot. And despite his hotness factor was still nerdy enough to want to attend the ‘Star Wars In Concert Series Event’…notable. To say the evening was entertaining would be a vast understatement. Never mind that we were being graced by the presence of Anthony Daniels, the man who voiced C-3PO, but more importantly we were besieged by grown men who may or may not have been decked out in full head-to-toe Star Wars costumes...and despite not having the ability to hold down a job, were somehow capable of multi-tasking by logging countless hours in front of the computer playing W.O.W., all while role playing Dungeons and Dragons simultaneously. Pure, enthralling, epic entertainment in its finest form!

Afterwards we went to dinner where instead of sitting across from me he sat beside me, and was engagingly affectionate. Not overly, sickeningly affectionate that makes other people feel awkwardly uncomfortable like when you’re in Sacrament and some sweet spirit…you know the type where she’s worthy enough to be translated but too heavy to get off the ground…is up there bearing her testimony about having received confirmation that she’s supposed to marry the wards most eligible bachelor, but more adorably affectionate where you feel safe and secure all cuddled in his nook. Our dialogue exchange was witty and clever, and I found him to be charismatic and captivating…this was something I could get used to.

He had me home by 1:30 am and as I drifted off to sleep I couldn’t help but grin from ear-to-ear thinking about a seemingly perfect evening.

As I awoke the next morning, my natural instinct was to reach for my phone where I found several texts and emails awaiting my reply, in addition to several Facebook alerts. Well naturally I pulled up my FB app, and there in front of me, on the Home Page for all the world to see, was the notification that Mr. Star Wars VonSchmoozer had changed his relationship status to “In A Relationship” at 12:16 am…with another girl. They have since been married. And divorced. One word: Inevitable. One more word: Karma.

If your date changes his FB relationship status to denote being in a relationship with another girl---while you’re out with him…UNDATABLE!

(And apparently unmarriable.)

Monday, September 6, 2010

In Mighty Prayer And Supplication

I opened the door and invited him in. He wanted a tour of my newly purchased home, so I appeased his request by showing him the digs. He was very complimentary about my decorating style and it was apparent he was impressed with what I'd done with the place, which I found thoughtful. As I grabbed my purse and headed for the door I realized he had remained in the living room. I cautiously returned to the scene, only to find him standing right next to the fireplace. I inquired if there was something I had missed, to which he replied, “Well, yeah. We haven’t said the opening prayer yet.” Now, before you start getting all Judge-y McMormon on me, I should tell you that I have a very strong belief in the whole “Power-Of-Prayer” schpill. But in this particular instance it would be a small understatement to pretend that I wasn't incredulously perplexed. I mean, how could I forget that this particular night out was going to be one giant, colossal, near-death experience. Balls flying at our heads. (T.W.S.S.) Germ ridden kids running amuck. The possibility of choking on cotton candy. The chance of catching Zoobie-itis. I guess I'd forgotten how harrowing miniature golf could actually be. Silly me! Still, I humored him by kneeling down while he offered up a prayer that could very well assure him the next spot in the Quorum of the Seventy.

We spent the next few hours putting the course, playing old school video games, and laser tagging it up…all while thankfully remaining “safe, secure and protected.” Whew!

As the evening drew to an end I found myself at the ever dreaded door-step scene. Standing there in the awkwardness of the street lamp shadows I thanked him for an enjoyable evening as he came in for the hug. After the embrace I turned to walk inside when I heard my date begin clearing his throat quite loudly. "AHEM!" For the second time that evening I was forced to ask Brother E.Q.P. if there was something I had missed. "Uh, we haven't closed our date with a prayer yet!" was his exasperated reply. Without giving it a second thought I heard the words..."You know, it's been a pretty long day and I'm exhausted. I think we should just call it a night here"...coming out of my mouth. Much to my chagrin, I realized that he had again decided to take the Boyz II Men song "Down On Bended Knee" quite literally, and was kneeling on my front stoop, all while giving a pretty impressive sermon that went something like this..."That's okay G, the scriptures say that 'Ye must pour out your souls in your closets', which I don't think means literally your closets. I believe it's actually an analogy for anywhere. And anywhere would include your door step." And with that, Prayer Part II began.
If your date feels the need to begin and end EVERY date with a prayer...UNDATABLE!

Saturday, September 4, 2010

Kitchen Duty

I suppose it was my fault, really. The fact that I met him at a tanning salon didn’t necessarily bode well for the guy. But he was cute enough and he seemed to understand my humor which I could appreciate…so when he asked for my number I went against all of my inner-gut-instincts and handed him over the coveted digits.

The text messages he sent were sweet, the phone conversations we had flowed, and his persistence loomed. I ended up having an opening in my ridiculously crazy schedule, so when he asked if I was available for dinner I accepted his invitation and we settled on a time and a restaurant. Upon arrival he informed me that he wasn’t really hungry, so rather then a meal he was going to go with something “light.” When our waiter stopped by to take our order he decided on two appetizers, a side of fries and a dessert, while I opted for the salmon. As I sat across the booth from him I found myself having a fairly enjoyable time. We were sharing stories, giggling about childhood memories, and all-in-all, thoroughly enjoying each other’s company.

As the evening wore on our waiter dropped by our table to see if there was anything else we needed, at which point my date informed him that everything had been great and that there was nothing else we would be in need of, so he dropped off our bill.

Home Boy didn’t flinch, so I assumed he wasn’t quite ready to leave. Thirty minutes passed…nothin’. An hour…nada. I excused myself to go to the restroom where I spent 15 minutes texting, emailing and Facebooking to give him time to get his funds together, but upon my return…zilch. By this time the restaurant was closing so our waiter once again walked back over to our table to double check if there was indeed anything else that we required. Again, my date didn’t move a muscle. Voluntary or involuntary. He sat there like Christopher Reeve, post horse back riding accident.

I knew at this point that if I didn’t pull out my wallet to pay for the meal, due to the fact that I was the minority, my brown a$& would be hauled back to the kitchen where I would be forced to do dishes until my penance was served, while his white a$& would walk outta there scott free, like he owned the joint. I hesitantly reached for my wallet, pulled out my debit card and handed it to the waiter. Whilst Mr. No Pay sat there with the most blasé look on his face, happy as a lark, as though he didn't have a care in the world...and in reality he didn't...because his stomach and his checking account both remained full.

If your date asks you out, and then refuses to pay…UNDATABLE!

Friday, September 3, 2010

G's S.T.D. (S.aves T.he D.ay)

It was a nice change of pace having a guy plan a real date, one that required actual thought. He informed me that we were going to be tubing down the Weber River, and despite not being a real out-doorsy girl I was thoroughly excited. It was the epitome of a perfect summer day. The sun was out, there was a slight breeze in the air, and the water's temperature was pleasant. It was our third date, and I could tell that I was starting to like him. (Due to what I assumed were butterflies in the stomach, rather then the typical sinking-rock-in-the-gut feeling I was used to having before a date.) We were spending the day floating down the river with 8 other couples, but somehow we always ended up way ahead of the pack, which was fine with us because it gave us some alone time that we were both wanting. About half way down the river our conversation went something like this...

Herp: "Hey G, I believe our relationship is somewhat symbolic of our date today."

G: "Funny thing...I was just sitting on my tube thinking the exact same thought. False. I was not. Feel free to explain."

Herp: "Well I think the fact that I haven't let go of your tube the entire time should tell you that in life, I would never give up on us."

G: "I can actually see the Velveeta dripping from your pours due to the cheesiness of that comment."

Herp: "That's not gonna deter me G. I'm not sure if you noticed, but back there a little ways I really felt like we had a 'moment.' And I really, really wanted to kiss you, but I feel like there's something I should tell you."

G: "Um, okay...I guess I'm still listening."

Herp: "Yeah, uh, well...the thing is...I've got herpes. And the only reason I'm telling you this is because I can feel an outbreak coming on. But if it weren't for that I would've absolutely kissed you."

G: (Thinking to herself) "You've gotta be friggin' kidding me."

I tried to maintain my composure as the day continued, but by the time we got to the end of the our river-run adventure, his face was one big giant swollen hot mess! His tear ducts were oozing a white liquid that I'm certain had a stench but I never got close enough to fully investigate, his eyes were puffy, and his lips were gigantic! In short, he looked like Hitch. (Not the hot Hitch where he looked like Will Smith circa Independence Day. But more like the Hitch right after he had eaten the fish he was ultra allergic to.) I ended up taking his herpe-ridden self to the E.R. due to his airway starting to swell shut, and then ended up playing nurse 'til 2 am.

If your date announces that he has an S.T.D....UNDATABLE!

Thursday, September 2, 2010

No Use In Crying Over Thrown Phones

For those of you who know me, you are already well aware of the fact that my phone is actually an appendage of me. Sometimes people inadvertently mistake me for having three arms…well, if a third arm could be pink, box-like, and look as though someone bedazzled the hell out of it.

To my credit I happen to be a firm believer in the whole “Don’t Text While You’re On A Date” rule, but I also happen to believe that there are exceptions to almost all rules, and if you are in need of your phone due to a work or family emergency, responding to phone calls or text messages becomes fair game.

That being said, it was my evening to be on-call for work, but due to my ability to multi task, I also happened to be out with a guy that I genuinely liked. So much so that I found myself sitting at a pretty reputable restaurant smack-dab in the middle of the Riverwood’s Shopping Center on our fifth (that’s right…#5!) date. It was going well, the food was delicious, the company was enjoyable, the waiter was well above average looking and then it happened. My phone, which happened to be sitting in the middle of the table, gave off a small vibrating sensation letting the world know that a text message awaited a reply. Instinctively I grabbed for my phone to see who would be in need of my services. I pulled up the text, read through it and then nonchalantly sat my phone back down on the table not really giving it much thought. That is until I noticed my date stand up in one fell swoop, grab my phone all while yelling at the top of his lungs…”If you like your phone so much, why don’t you try having a relationship with it!”…and then proceeded to throw my bedazzled life line at me, as fast and as hard as he could.

If your date throws a phone at you…UNDATABLE!

Wednesday, September 1, 2010

Do You Know How Long It's Been?!

So, when I was freshly divorced, my family insisted on getting me on an online dating website that was specified around a certain religion. Reluctantly, I signed up and found it to be rather nice that  I could weed out individuals based on their activity in the church and priorities. So when a seemingly "Good Guy" asked me out, I decided to join him. Obeying the Online Dating Rules, I met him in a public place where we shared hot chocolate and a great conversation. As the night progressed, I felt more and more comfortable with this "Saint" and he invited me back to his house where he had a theatre room that we could watch a movie in. No harm in that, and on we went. Unexpectedly, he began to get kind of 'handsy'. I kindly asked him to refrain and watch the movie. He persisted including kisses to my neck and hands crawling up my thigh. Again, I asked him to quit the moves. He didn't quite get my message and proceeded to touch me and try to kiss me, all the while, I was getting very angry. Finally when this behavior wouldn't stop I stood up, and in a firm voice said "STOP! I am not that kind of girl!"  He then stood up and yelled at me saying "Do you know how long its been for me!?!?!?!? I replied with, "Please take me back to my car." He didn't speak to me the whole drive home.

If your first-time date uses the desperate verbiage

Sunday, August 29, 2010

10 Minutes Later...

He had found me on Facebook and added me as a friend. We had a plethora of friends in common, so I reluctantly accepted. His pictures were mediocre, but his messages were refreshingly sweet. Ergo, when he asked me out I readily accepted. Despite the fact that he looked eerily similar to Vanilla Ice, I remained hopeful that he'd be "different" from the last 4 dates I had gone on this week. When I opened the door, I was almost sure I heard the lyrics ♫ ♪ "Ice Ice Baby!" ♪ ♫ instantaneously come on in the background. But still, I remained hopeful. And when he pulled out the fake plastic pink, yellow and red flowers from behind his back, I continued to have faith. But when we got into his car and I realized that there was a court-ordered breathalyzer machine that required him to blow into and then wait for 10 minutes while it read his alcohol level before it would start because of not one, not two, but three D.U.I.'s....all remaining optimism blew right out the window.

If your date needs a breathalyzer to start his car...UNDATABLE!