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The Storm Trooper

5 Jun

The name speaks for itself. 61808

Yes, my date showed up in costume. Yeah. The. Big. White. Hard-cased. Suit. With helmet in hand (thank God).

Alan and I met online (I’ve really got to stop torturing myself and just find a man at the gas station or something), and immediately clicked. I was 30, he was 29 and in school at The University of Houston, getting his PhD in Political Science. A smartie!

[At this point in time, upon reading his profile, I didn’t get a vibe that he liked to dress in costume for first dates.]

Anyways, we had a lot in common and would talk on the phone for hours. We both liked the Houston Museum District/Hermann Park area, so we set up a date for an early dinner at a nearby Taco Shop and planned to head to Miller Outdoor Theatre for a concert afterwards.

Let me give you the stats for Alan. He is a 6’5″ male with broad shoulders…complete with a brillo pad of curly, brown hair and a large nose.

So, yeah. He showed up in costume and I didn’t run out the door. And no, I’m not on drugs. I hardly ever leave dates, no matter how bad they are. It’s the nice person in me. Unfortunately.

Anyways…after I got over my shock of him being dressed up and me being slightly embarrassed, we ordered dinner. I ordered a couple of tacos and a drink, and he ordered a burrito.

I think he knew that I wasn’t the woman for him and I definitely knew that he wasn’t the man for me, so we just made small talk. There weren’t any crazy awkward pauses which was good, and, I learned a new thing or two.

One Thing: Towel Day. Read about it here. There are no other words for it. But, he celebrates it and even dresses up for it. Yes, he wears a towel.

Two Thing: His perfect dream girl carries a sword and wears a short skirt and screams out “I’m (something that starts with the letter) Z!”

I guess the date wouldn’t have been so bad (completely), if he hadn’t started rolling up balls of foil (from his burrito) and throwing aiming for my cleavage V-neck shirt opening.

Yeah. That happened.

So, yeah…that’s the Storm Trooper. He was the first date I had in Houston when I moved down here.

Fun times. Fun times, indeed.

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The Human Trafficker

4 Jun

The Human Trafficker and I never dated…but his emails were atrocious and funny.

Let’s call him…John.

I’ve never met a nice, good John. They’ve all been assholes. My ex, this guy, The Crapper (another word for John)…The Chemist…

I, of course, came across his profile while browsing through online profiles…his screen name was Hedgeman23. It totally gives this blog the backdrop it needs to set the storyline.

John’s first opening paragraph was this: 002 [Magazine] has voted me the elite of Houston. I get out of bed in the morning just to greet my playmates. I hold nothing back and am always ready to go all in for the right person – however have not encountered this person in the US. I crash half a million dollar sail boats because I like the splash. I crave a high IQ and if you are ready to trade wits – I will meet you half way. 

I find that a lot of guys write like this on their profiles to seem upwardly witty, but not John. I assume this is what John is like 24/7. When I saw his profile in 2011 (it’s been that long), he had pictures of himself (of course), pictures of himself in front of the bathroom mirror, pictures of himself and friends, in prestigious bars with bottles in hand, and pictures of himself with (obviously) lucky bleach-blonde ladies with fake boobs. And don’t forget…the picture of himself standing next to a lamborghini, pointing at it with a mischievous grin.

I liked his car. I’m a car person. So I wrote to him in my usual way when I’m not interested in the guy, but want to say something.

Me: “I don’t think we’d match up well romantically, but I wanted to comment on your car. It’s pretty sweet! Interesting color choice.  I like the 20″ rims. What’s the horsepower on it? Is it yours?”

Not a great email to send to an egotistical guy who thinks his shit doesn’t stink.

Him: “Ok. a) I don’t know you. b) It’s my lamborghini – when you spend $180k on a car – you can pick the color and all that Asian bull-crap to put on it. c) I picked that color for a reason. Thanks for talking mess. -John”

2013 Update: I have since learned to control my mouth and temper, but in 2011, I did not. I wasn’t trying to pick a fight with him. I paid him a compliment. Yes, a pea- and gold-colored car is an interesting color choice…I didn’t say it was fucking ugly, I said it was interesting. But, I of course had to write him back.

But, before I could write him back, he sent me d) “Let me know when you can afford 12 grand for tires! So sad…”

WTF! Dude, I feel sorry for YOU. YOU have to spend $12 grand on tires!!!!

So I of course wrote him and told him he was an asshole and took my statement out of context. I explained that I didn’t mean to piss him off and that I was a car person and just wanted to know about his car.

Here’s what he wrote back:

“I’m an asshole… Well that’s the first thing you’ve gotten correct today so congrats! You wanna talk shit to me but can’t take it when I get serious… Let me guess your a liberal? What do you drive princess? Your just barking up the wrong tree – your a socialist piece if garbage and socially retarted. You couldn’t stand on your feet for five seconds in my profession and you know it. But then again, since you may know it and are liberal at the same time – people like me have to pay your way in life. Your a nothing to me – and your humor reveals your insecurities. Still think your smart – well I did read your profile and your so over confident and bitter that you should be on a lesbian match.com seeking out softball players. Cause all guys know that your bitter and have an attitude. Yeah – you can’t do shit and your a nobody. Get a life!”

Well that went extremely well, didn’t it?

I’m retarded, but I can spell “you’re” and “retarded” correctly. Hmm.

He then wrote me another email just within a few minutes of the previous one, with: “p.s. you must be a fucking idiot.”

So, then I fueled the fire even more and told him he was awesome. No, seriously. I told him he was awesome. It looked exactly like this:

Dear John, You are awesome.

He then sent me the following message, which is why I called him, and this blog The Human Trafficker. Kind of makes you wonder what exactly he does for a living. Then again, maybe that’s why he can afford those $12 grand tires.

Him: “So that’s what’s awesome huh? Want to know what’s awesome – I buy and sell people like you all the time. Let’s see if you really have any wits???? Feel free to call me so we can sort this out in person. 832.XXX.XXX. I’m waiting with bated breathe – let me tell you….”

And that my friends…is what I deal with in the dating world. Fun times. Fun times.

 

Like A Boss

2 Jun

Ever heard the skit/song from The Lonely Island, “Like a Boss?”

No? Then listen to it here.

The reason why you should listen to the video before reading this blog, is because, well…I dated ‘that’ guy. The guy who constantly tells you he’s a boss.

This particular date was back when I lived in Dallas. I had met this guy online and under his profession, when most people tell you what their title is, he had just put “management.”

I could have cared less whether he was at the bottom of the totem pole or really, in management. We had a lot in common and we liked the same activities. He seemed like he would be fun to hang out with.

When we first started talking on the phone, I once asked him what he did and he totally replied with, “I’m a boss.” That. Was. The. Statement. Out. Of. His. Mouth. Every. Conversation. Every. Word.

Yet I still decided to go out with him. What the fuck was I thinking? Totally my fucking bad…

Anyhoo…we decided on a few bowling matches at Main Event one night and when we actually sat down to talk (after I of course, beat him [COLLEGE BOWLING LEAGUE, WHAT, WHAT]), I finally figured out what “boss” meant.

Me: “So, what company do you work for?”
Him: “I work at Tom Thumb/Randall’s. I’m a boss.”
Me: “Cool! What area?”
Him: “Well I work at the district main office location in Dallas.”
Me: “I didn’t know Tom Thumb had a main office in Dallas. Interesting.”
Him: “Well, I actually work at the grocery store, but Dallas’ top store.”
Me: “Cool. Well, what department are you in?”
Him: “I’m in the deli area. And, I’m a supervisor.”
Me: “How long have you been there?”
Him: “I’ve been a boss for three years.”
Me: “Did you start there after college?”
Him: “I’m technically still in school. I’m actually in training for the lead supervisory position. I’ve been working there for three years.”
Me: [slightly confused that his answers have changed] “Oh. Well, what do you do day to day?”
Him: “I slice the meat, make sure customers are happy, figure out what deals to honor, I only supervise one person in the department now, but if I finish school and this training program, I’ll get to be the boss for this store, in this department.”

RULES
1) Never go bowling on a date. Unless you’re with other people. It was hard to talk in between games.
2) If you work, be proud that you have a job. I, at the time of the date, was unemployed. Oh, the joys of freelancing after being laid off. Again, if you work, be proud that you have a job. If you are a boss, great! If you slice deli meat, then fucking own up to it. Don’t lie and say that you’re in management when you slice ham for a living. I had a bunch of crap jobs to get where I am today. We all do. Own up to it!
3) I don’t want it to seem like I was badgering him the entire time, asking him about what he did; we also talked about me and what I did/used to do/what I was looking for. If he really worked at a corporate location, I wanted to know about opportunities, too.

The reason it didn’t work out? A woman’s intuition is serious. I have become FUCKING AWESOME at being able to tell when someone is lying to me. And once you do…like a sneaky friend…I will continue to be your friend (at a distance), let you talk, let you lie, whatever…but I will ultimately lose respect for you deep down and I won’t trust you. I won’t trust a word out of your mouth.

I would have respected him more, if he had just owned up to his job. If you’re embarrassed by what you do, change it. If you don’t like what you’re doing. Change it. Change jobs. I disliked the fact that he was willing to let some 10-letter word (management) change his story.

Liars suck!

Doesn’t Like Short People

28 Nov

Some people are not as smart. Some people are not as smart. Some people are not as smart. Some people are not as smart. Some people are not as smart. Some people are not as smart. Some people are not as smart. Some people are not as smart.

Sometimes, I have to keep telling myself this with all the weirdos I come across.

For instance, weirdos like: DanZenGerZy from OKCupid.

Message 1:
“Hi. You are on my quiver match. Your profile sounds arrogant. Just being honest and straight forward. Bye.”

First off…my profile does NOT sound arrogant. Upon receiving this email, I went straight to the people who know me best, and asked for their most honest opinions. I even, went as far as, asking my male friends for their opinions.

The verdict? “You’re funny D, but if someone doesn’t have a sense of humor, they’re not going to get it. Your profile is fine. Don’t change it. That would be like changing your personality, and for what? A guy who’s mad because he didn’t fit your height requirement?”

So, I wrote him back. And, I was not nice. Can you blame me?

ME:
“LMAO! My profile sounds arrogant?

First of all…who posts ALL of their degrees and certifications on their profile?

Not to mention, you over-tell your life story in dollar signs. “I’ve got two cars…” “I waste my money on Louis Vuitton and Armani…” “I make 80K-100K…”

Who gives a shit? If you want someone to like you for all of your materialistic possessions…why don’t you look for love on I’m-Wealthy-And-A-Dumbass.com?

Just for the record, you were my Quiver Match too, but I hit “decline.”

Don’t get mad because you didn’t fit my height requirement.

And do me a favor…DON’T write me back.

Bye.

P.S. That hummer you have? It’s not real…it’s a fake GMC body. Why don’t you save up your pennies, instead of spending them at Armani, and buy a real hummer.”

But of course he wrote me back! Of course! And again, and again, and again. I never wrote him back, but HE felt the need to write me three more times. Fun times!

Message 2 – 10:46 a.m.
“Not a real hummer? So the real hummer is only those in the military? What do you have? Yes my other car is a 5 series.

You’re a dumbass. You thought you are so smart enough. Do you have a degree? Oh yeah, cooking? I bet you are just a high school grad. Lol

Nothing personal, just wanna argue.”

Message 3 – 11 a.m.
“Ah, arrogance on her driving. Wanna race? If i win, you will tell the world how arrogant and dumbass you are. Im a 4th place Drifting comp driver winner in union city, 2003. So what do you drive again? What’s your degree, cooking? Lol”

Message 4 – 11:13 a.m.
Anyway, you claiming yourself a good catch is arrogance. But you talk shit like a ghetto. Oh yes you are a cheap ghetto who cannot afford a Louis Vuitton or Armani. Social climber you. Your height makes you so small. I’m not attracted to you so don’t be so assuming like you always do. Most white girls like you doesn’t take a bath.

I just want to challenge you to prove to you that you are totally arrogant though has nothing.”

Don’t get me wrong, I realize that the way he wrote his profile, was meant to be funny and sarcastic…but I am pretty DAMN sure, that some of it is real.

And to think OKCupid matched us up at 86%. W-T-F-ever!

I think I’m going to change my profile to:

Dumbass. Arrogant. Ghetto. White Girl. Social Climber. Doesn’t like short people. Smells.

Think I’d get a guy???

W-T-F

28 Sep

Just got an email from a guy (Snowboardkidd) on OKCupid, whom I haven’t even spoken 10 words to yet, and he’s already asking me if we can be “friends with benefits.”

Really dude? Does that line really work for you?

First-ever message.

“Hi.”

My response: “Howdy.”

Second Message.

“How are you today?”

My response: “Great. How are you?”

Third message.

“Better, now!!!! :-)”

Fourth Message.

“What are you doing?”

My response: “Working. You?”

Fifth Message.

“I am off and bored. 😦 What do you do for a living?”

My response: “I’m a graphic designer for a hospital.”

Sixth Message. (Two days later.)

“I truly am not ready just yet for a “relationship.” Would you consider being friends with benefits with me until I got my head and heart cleared up?”

My response: blank stare

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