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!

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.)

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!

 

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!

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!

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!

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
"DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG ITS BEEN FOR ME?".......UNDATABLE!