There's No Place Like Home...

I was on an errand for work when I walked into this particular pharmacy and instantaneously noticed an ultra cute guy out of my peripheral vision. I grabbed the items I needed and decided to pick up a Diet Coke while I was there…mostly because I consider D.C. to be the Nectar of the God’s and I felt like I needed a sense of rejuvenation. I walked over to the cooler section and noticed that Mr. Hottie Pants McGee was there too. He appeared to be a little dirty but I figured that was because he was a blue-collar worker...not that I was judging him for it, I leave the judgemental part to Jesus. And the Mormon's.


Before I had a chance to whip out my charming, charismatic,
Ge-isim's he walked over to me and started what ended up being a pretty amusing conversation that concluded with him asking for my phone number. I was reluctant to give it to him for a couple of reasons…1) I had just gotten out of a serious relationship and the thought of dating again made me wanna vomit. Literally. 2) Three words: My. Dating. History. (Please see previous posts.) But alas, I handed over my business card and with the look of sheer elation, said he’d be in touch.

Later that evening my phone rang (and when I say 'rang' I of course mean vibrated) the caller ID showed that it was a local number so I answered figuring it was something to do with work. False…it was Mr. Walgreen’s himself asking me on a date. I once again fought my inner instinct and reluctantly agreed. We settled on a day and time but after hanging up I suddenly remembered that I already had plans for the night in question. I quickly called him back but the dial tone merely rang. And rang. And rang some more. Just as I was about to hang up I heard a female’s voice say “Hello?” I was taken aback but proceeded to ask for Mr. D.B. when I was met with “I’m not sure who you’re looking for, but you are aware that this is a payphone, right?” Without any ado there were a few things that started running through my head. A) The 80’s called and they’d like their form of communication back. B) Payphones still exist?! C) Let me reiterate, payphones still exist?!

Due to the fact that I was unable to reach Sir Sketchy VonPayPhone I went ahead and changed my previous plans with the guy that happened to be from the twenty-first century and did have a cell phone, so that way I didn’t have to stand up Date #2. He arrived promptly at 6:45, as planned. When I answered the door he quickly asked if he could use the restroom. Twenty-five minutes later he exited and announced he was ready to go. I found this strangely uncomfortable and as we headed out the door I glanced into the bathroom and saw several of my crisp, white washcloths on the ground and they were covered with what I could only assume was dirt. I decided at that point that ignorance was bliss and opted not to confront the situation.

He had arranged a picnic at the park which I thought was adorable. When we finished eating the PB&J’s he had packed he asked if I’d like to take a sunset stroll. I consented and we started the whole ‘get-to-know-you’ questions that are pertinent for any first date. I asked him where he lived and he diffidently pointed to the parking lot where his truck sat. I was perplexed by this vague motion so I inquired further of him. He then enlightened me that he was "currently in-between homes"and that he did indeed reside in the bed of his truck, under his pristine camper shell.

Fast forward 23.7 minutes...he had finally dropped me off and I found myself breathing a sigh of relief as I shut the front door behind me. I then remembered the whole '25-minutes-in-the-bathroom scenerio'. I discovered, much to my chagrin, that Homeboy McLivesInATruck had felt the urgency to be somewhat presentable for our date...which led him to take a sponge bath, with my hand towels!

If your date is homeless…UNDATABLE!

You're Late! You're Late! For A Very Important Date!

If your date is 2.5 hours late picking you up...
UNDATABLE!

 

If that same date shows up to your office the next day with these in hand...

TOTALLY DATEABLE!

Thanks B! You're forgiven! :)

Of Sushi & Men...

I may not know how to pick men…but food, now that I know. So when he invited me out to dinner and insisted that I pick the location, you better believe that I singled out a local all-you-can-eat sushi restaurant that could best be described with the adjective “orgasmic’. I could hear the hesitation in his voice as I made the suggestion but didn’t think much else about it after he was quick to reassure me that he did indeed like sushi…although had only recently been introduced to this delectable, borderline-still-living, delicious, mouth-watering, array of tasty goodness!

He picked me up at a quarter past seven, so despite the fact that he was 15 minutes late and apparently running on P.S.T. (Polynesian Standard Time) I opted to remain optimistic about the date’s outcome. Mostly because he was H-O-T! I’m talking Brad Pitt circa 'Legends of the Fall', APEX Alarm Summer Salesman…hot.

Dinner went well. Ordinarily I would’ve allowed him to do all of the ordering, just so that he could feel like “The Man!” in the relationship, but in this case because Mr. Picky McEatsBlandFood didn’t have a lot of experience in ordering sushi I went ahead and took the lead by instructing our waiter which rolls I thought would be most apt to getting him hooked…no pun intended. Despite being virtually a ‘sushi virgin’ he was a fairly good sport about sampling everything our waiter brought out and the playful banter between us was fun and flirty, which was clearly an added bonus. The check came and he paid which made it palpable that this date far exceeded any other date I had been on in a long while. As we headed for the exit my date suddenly excused himself muttering something about having to use the restroom. I patiently awaited his return, schmoozing with the manager to bide my time.

He looked a little pale as we walked to his truck, but I just chalked it up to him not being from Polynesian descent.

We were almost to the movie theater when my date turned to me with an expression that I couldn’t quite articulate. Was it one of fear? Anxiety? Panic? Horror? “This isn’t going to be good!” he exclaimed. And then he let out what was best described by Phillip Seymour Hoffman’s character in the movie ‘Along Came Polly’ when he used the epic word…

Sharted; (shärt) Vulgar Slang

intr.v. shart·ed, shart·ing, sharts

To try and expel intestinal gas, although sh!+ comes out instead.

If your date craps his pants…UNDATABLE

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"

IF YOUR DATE THINKS HE IS A GUITAR-HERO.....

UNDATABLE!!!!!!!

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

IF YOUR DATE FAILS TO TELL YOU UPFRONT THAT HE PLAYS ON BOTH SIDES OF THE CHECKER BOARD....UNDATABLE!!!!

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!

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!