Larry Laughs at My Misfortunes

After a date, with Pizza Face, I sent the following text message: “I had a date tonight. He had acne. I will never see him again, but I will blog about it. Vomit.” To which my co-worker, Larry, responded, “Hahaha.”

I assure you, this date was no laughing matter.

So, here’s my question. If you’re online dating and you know you’re going to meet someone, why would you have a picture that is a misrepresentation of yourself? I mean, I have a booty, but you don’t see me posting pics of Beyonce on my online dating profile – I just assume that whomever I’m meeting will notice that I’m not Black when he sees me.

This line of thinking, though, isn’t clear to everyone…

If you’ve posted a picture of you, minus 10 years, or you with clear skin (when, in reality, you have bad acne), or your cousin, I will notice when we meet. It’s unfortunate, too, because PF actually seemed like a nice guy. He probably banks on his niceness to get him additional dates. I, however, am a (admittedly) shallow person and there is no degree of niceness that can compensate for such disgustingness.

(Also, my barometer for a second date is simply whether or not I think you’re attractive enough to sleep play Scrabble with. If you fail, there is no second date… after that, the whole personality thing comes into play, because there are a lot of other factors that go into my decisions on whether or not Scrabble will eventually be played with someone.)

When I told my cousin about this, she agreed, “I don’t expect airbrushed, but a mine field is totally unacceptable. It’s also rude to not disclose that beforehand.”

Have you ever met someone who grossly misrepresented him/herself?

Pimp Juice and Hong Kong.

Well, as you read previously, RoboCop and I had a lovely evening out. Clearly he was so taken by my sarcasm beauty, that he just had to see me again. This date was hands-down one of the best dates I’ve ever been on. I may have low standards, though, as far as dates go.

I’ll admit, at first I almost backed out, because in true snark form, I am wishy-washy about all things dating. Also, when I looked at the proposed restaurant’s web site, it had the word romantic in it. I nearly flew into an anxiety attack. Fortunately, my sane friends responded to my maniacal messages and managed to reel me back in. Whew!

Close call there!

SO, RoboCop and I met at Nico in the North End. (This place was great because if you sit near the windows, as we did, and the fire engines leave, it almost feels like you’re going to die. It adds that extra flair of adventure to an otherwise normal dinner.) Anyway, dinner was great and the conversation was good, but I’ll admit, it was kind of loud in there and my poor directional hearing made it difficult for me to follow conversation easily. Somehow, I managed.

After dinner, RoboCop had the BEST SUGGESTION! Karaoke! It was like a dream come true. I love anything that involves me holding and singing into a microphone. We walked to what is probably the sketchiest bar I’ve stepped foot in: The Hong Kong. (And, yes, DC friends… sketchier than Sketchy Mister Days! Can you even believe it?!) So, we get into Hong Kong, grab a drink, and we started making friends.

Here are some highlights of the friends we made:
1. Frank — Frank was about 68 years old and had taut, leathery skin. Also, he was an odd shade of grey, either from some type of cirrhosis or too much tanning. We weren’t sure. Upon greeting us, Frank asked if we could watch his jackets. He’s lucky we aren’t sketchy thieves, or we could have robbed him blind! Frank really enjoyed our company and asked personal questions like, “How did you get to America?” We told him we arrived by boat, and he told us he came on a plane. Good to know. Clearly this was before TSA was so strict, because I think the glowing skin would have been a warning to somebody. Aah Frank. He left us with this little nugget of advice, “Next time someone is shooting at you, just tell them ‘Peace on you’.” Cool, I always wondered what I should say in that situation. Now I know.

2. Joe — Joe was an amazing man we met. I was encouraging Robo to form a bro-mance with Joe. Alas, he couldn’t muster up the courage to ask for his digits. He did, however place an add on Craigslist after the big night out, but we never heard from Joe again. Joe got us to sign up for karaoke with Ken, his palsie who runs the karaoke for the evening. (Ken ended two or three people before our turn. Drats!) Even though he was at the bar alone, Joe was a real treat to be around. I hope to run into him someday again…

3. Paul aka Ben Franklin — This quack told us some whacky story about how he owns the bar or something. I wasn’t following. The best part of our conversation with this clown is when Robo asked, “Do you live at home with your parents?” I couldn’t even keep a straight face. Paul was not deterred by Robo’s question. In fact, I’d say he took it as a challenge to show us just how cool he was. In doing so, he flashed us his Spencer’s FBI card like he was some character on CSI. I was impressed. It was basically like conversing with a cartoon, and we took full advantage by making up strange stories to share with him about out lives.

Sadly, after all of that fun, it was time for the bar to close, and I was ready to head home. Robo, being a well-mannered human being, offered me a ride home, which was really nice of him. Also nice, I did not suspect that ‘ride home’ was code for ‘sex’… after all, he didn’t invite me over to have a dance party in his living room. He demonstrated his good manners by opening the car door for me. I really can appreciate a guy who has manners, it’s definitely something that has always stood out to me. We chatted the whole drive back to my place, and for a really long time after. Then, Robo walked me to my door, which isn’t something I’ve experienced ever? Maybe ever. I’m not even sure. Regardless it was appreciated.

He asked if I wanted to go kayaking or canoeing over that weekend… but you’ll have to wait to see if he followed up on that .

What super fun dates have you been on? Any favorite date activities?

Dates, Schmates.

It rarely happens, but like a full moon, every once in a while I actually go on a date where the urge to punch said date in the throat is nonexistent.

This is a prime example of such dates.

So, I met RoboCop (who is neither a robot nor a cop, sadly) on the world-wide web, because, well, the people who I meet on the streets ask me if I know where to find crack (true, but very different story)… so I actually think the online approach is more fruitful. Pitiful.

RoboCop and I met at this great place called The Local. I’d been there a few weeks prior with a friend of mine and thought the food was pretty good, so I was excited to suggest it. (Also, they make the most amazing gin gimlet.) Conversation went well, I found out we shared more than a mutual interest in meeting Internet people: We both played the saxophone growing up, we both grew up in wicked small towns, and we both like seafood.

Sounds solid to me.

After dinner, we went to Paddy’s, which is a place I’m rather fond for many reasons, all of which revolve around my old job. We had a drink and then decided to call it a night. We walked back to The Local’s parking lot and parted ways.

A few observations that I had about RoboCop from the get-go:
1. Striking eyes
2. Manners
3. The ability to make me NOT want to jab a fork into my own leg.

I’ll take it. Maybe there’s another date in the future .

Good on Paper, Bad in Bed?

Oddly, this post is not about sex; instead it’s about the past relationships I’ve had and how being ‘Good on Paper’ doesn’t necessarily mean anything. I’ve been asked several times why I’m single, and while I think it’s meant to be a compliment, I almost always take it as an insult.

Why are YOU single?

It’s not like I haven’t had the opportunity to marry or that I’ve not been in any long-term relationships. Quite the opposite, in fact. Perhaps I have bad karma from how I ended two of my relationships, but I’m pretty certain any retribution for bad karma found its way to me a couple of years ago. So, in thinking of the past serious (or semi-serious… or basically the only people I’d called my ‘boyfriend’) relationships I’ve been in, I have thought about why I am single and possibly why I may be single for the rest of my natural life.

Let’s recap, shall we:

Boyfriend #1. EJ. We dated for roughly five years, though it wasn’t consistent. It was super immature, but what do you expect from a college relationship. Like most slors girls in college, I got mad at him, broke up with him, and found someone to sleep with at a party. That’s right. At. A. Party. Probably one of the more stupid things I’ve done, ever, in my life. He didn’t take to that too well when we got back together, but four years later, all he wanted to do was go and look at engagement rings. I took a different approach. I moved to D.C. and called him one night from the platform of the Metro. I told him I didn’t want to date anymore and then got off the phone quickly, as the Metro was approaching. Also, I had already met someone else (I think from the P. Diddy party we went to — ALM, do you remember this??). He tried several times to get back together, but I just did what I do best: Ignore & Avoid.

Boyfriend #2. YMT. I dated YMT for over two years and I think we were great together. Maybe I had on blinders. (ALM, I know you have differing opinions of him, so maybe I really did have blinders? I’m not sure.) Anyway, I was heart-broken when we broke up. After dating for a while, we started to talk about a future together and quickly realized that we had none. He traveled for work 4-5 days a week, every week, and wanted a family someday. He told me once that I would just be a stay at home mom. At that point, I’d wondered if he ever actually met and/or had a conversation with me. I think that if things would have progressed, he is the only person I could have had any future with — not necessarily the happiest future, as being a single parent has never been a dream of mine. Odd, I know.

Boyfriend-ish #3. MKv2.0. MK and I dated for two months before he went to Korea for a work project. Once I realized this would give me a chance to travel to Korea, I had one focus. Korea. KOREA! Friends would ask what I liked about him and I could barely muster up a response. Finally, one friend asked if I was only dating him so I could go to Korea. (My friends know me so well.) He told me he loved me the night before he left and I responded with an outburst of laughter, followed by an “Oh. Ok. Um. Yeah. Ok.” Korea was amazing and we broke up shortly after he returned to the states.  I guess he got the last laugh, though, because he got so drunk one night that he peed on my wall. Legit. Peed. On. My. Wall. What a loser…

Boyfriend #4. JD. Now this is the most awful one. I spent over three years of my life dating a self-admitted sexual deviant. Fortunately for me, I realized that I was unhappy well before a wedding (unfortunately, though, not before a mutual investment of a home purchase). What bothers me most about this situation is that he was perfect on paper, but he had a whole second life that I never knew about. Obviously, had I been privy to the information I later discovered, I’d have never given him a second look. I was completely naïve and unaware of what was going on, in my home, for years… right in front of me. I can’t complain much about that though, because ending things with him gave me the courage to move to Boston, a place I’d wanted to live for years (since the YMT days), and now I work as a writer, I teach college classes, and I live in the urban education capital of America, which will only help position myself for future success when I rule the education world .

So, I guess THAT’S why I’m single… since you asked.

Have you ever been asked that question? How do you take it? How do you answer it?

It’s not Me. It’s You.

There is nothing I hate more than a passive aggressive man. I mean, seriously, grow some already. If I’m doing something that bothers you, or if you think I’m lying about something then just call me out on it. Sure, I might get pissed, but at least I won’t question whether or not you have a vagina.

So, as you’d read about Zack Morris and my dates, you may remember that he wanted to call to arrange some night of dancing sex. Boy, please. I’m not trying to get a venereal disease from your antics.

I digress.

He called to inquire about when I might be available; also, if I’d like to switch banks. (He works for a bank, but if this is their recruitment strategy… well, I’d move my money from Citizens if I were you…)

During the course of the conversation, he questioned the authenticity of my busy schedule, but did so through a series of passive comments. This annoyed me greatly — if he really wanted to know whether or not I was making it up, he should have just asked.

(For the record, when you work a full-time job, adjunct at a college, and are taking graduate classes, you can get really busy at times. Why would I make that up?!)

After listening to a few minutes of his nonsense, I simply stated: “You know what, this isn’t going to work out.”

Then I hung up.

Click.

It wasn’t me. It was him.

He, however, saw things a little differently and continued to call me with more nonsense.

I silenced my phone and went to bed. And that, my friends, is the story of how Snark-a-Tussin ended things with Zack Morris.

Sexy Dancing!

This post here is a follow-up to the great date I had with Zack Morris, at the request of my Alaskan cousin, Mars.

Zack was a real treat and after having a lovely date with him, we went out for a second. He chose a cool bar, I think it’s called Mission Bar, but I could be making that up completely. Either way, I’d been there before, on a date with the Chef.

Zack Morris and I had a lovely dinner and the conversation was smoothly sailing. We were there for a while and decided to call it a night. Zack Attack wanted to take a walk, which I was certain was code for ‘murder’.  I was reluctant and mumbled some excuse about it being late, my being tired, and some other mumbo jumbo. He walked me to my car, but before we could call it a night, he requested another date.

How nice!

He’d already had sex something in mind. He asked if I wanted to come over to his place (Read: Studio Apartment) during the week, he’d play some music, and I could dance. He literally told me that I could dance at his place… for him.

I wondered if I was having difficulty processing, or if this clown was implying I’m some type of stripper. Regardless, I went on some tangent about how busy my week was (and it legitimately was busy: Grad school independent study meetings, teaching at the college, graduate school classes, and a dinner to catch up with a friend.)

We left it at an, “I’ll give you a call and we can make plans from there.”

Now I’m no genius, but I’m pretty certain ‘dance’ is code for ‘sex’ and/or ‘murder’ but I am willing to give this guy a chance. I mean, afterall, he does have a nice, ethnic accent, but we’ll get to the outcome of his follow-up phone call another time .

Have you ever been invited to someone’s place to ‘dance’?

Friends after Sex?

This is something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I wonder how often people remain friends with those they’ve slept with. I never actually write about sex because my mom reads my blog I’m a virgin (Hi Mom!).

So, I have dated exactly one person, here in Boston, long enough to actually sleep with him. Impressive that I’d not had sex with a single soul since breaking up with the to-be pedophile from VA, over two years ago.

I digress.

You’ve read about Cheffy on a few occasions (He’s Winning here and I’m Running here) and it’s clear to me that there’s nothing left between the two of us. Actually, it’s been clear to me since I came to the realization that he’s a drunkard. He, on the other hand, was not on the same page. He professed his ‘falling in love’ with me while drunk at the bar on a Tuesday; and in turn, I ran away. Since then, we’ve been talking and I am still getting from him the same mental stimulation (no, this is not code for penis) I was before. He gives great advice and challenges my thoughts.

Because I don’t tend to sleep around, this whole friends thing with him is different, but I rather enjoy it. Also, it lets me not be as judgmental about his alcoholism… or maybe it makes me more judgmental. I’m not really sure. I told him the other day that maybe he’d meet more people if he didn’t drink so much. Good nuggets of advice I give.

I feel like a great friendship has developed between the drunk and myself, but am wondering if others have experienced this. Most people I’ve slept with are people I was once in a long-term relationship with. When the relationship ended, instead of friendship developing, I’ve harbored feelings of annoyance or indifference and have never sought friendship. The only other person I can think of is the original Dan the Man (not the blogged about Dan-the-Man) — who I met at a party when I was 19; but I don’t know if what we had was a legitimate friendship. He basically just criticized everyone I dated and tried to tell me why he’s so great… until I pawned him off on a friend of mine. (Sorry friend — or rather, thank you, for shielding Danielson’s advances .)

So, here’s the question: Have you ever dated someone and it just fizzled into friendship without the sex? Or is this concept one for the delusional?