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OkCupid Chronicles: The Hi, You’re Fucking Insane Edition

13 Jun

I know I’ve been M.I.A. since MDW, but I think I’ve been recooperating since then. Just because I’ve been struggling to become a human again doesn’t mean I have any shortage of material- in fact it’s just the opposite. Too many stories, too little time to write. Anywho, I’m back for good, or until I go on a long weekend bender again.

I brought this one upon myself. Kinda. I was bored in bed one night browsing OKC and came across “Insane Andy.” He was cute and his profile was semi-interesting, so I messaged him. I got a response back almost immediately, which should’ve tipped me off, but it didn’t.

We exchanged messages back and forth, and I eventually gave him the lucky 10. He wanted to meet for drinks, and you should know by now that I never turn down a boozertunity, so I was down. However, I was going away for Memorial Day weekend, and he was going to have to wait until I returned. 

While on the road on Friday, he texts me with “Honey, how is your Friday?” First of all, no one should ever call someone they’ve never met “Honey.” Calling me “honey” is right up there with trying to hold my hand on a first date, and right behind “Ma” on the list of pet names I despise. I fucking hate it. That was strike one.

I remind him that I’m going camping and will not have reception until Monday. He says “Oh no, I thought we were going to spend the whole weekend together? :(”

I hoped I was reading humor and sarcasm in that message, so I said, “Sorry, this is the 11th annual trip, it’s the best weekend of the year, every year.”

He said, “Ok have fun, but not to much fun without me :)”

I can’t deal with a guy using that many smiley faces, so I just stopped responding. After my wild weekend, I returned to cell service and 6 text messages from this man, all in the similar vein of “Hey, are you back yet?” No sir, I am not. And, clearly I wasn’t for the first 5 texts either.

On Tuesday, I responded, “Hey I’m back. Camping was great, but I’m still hurting.”

He said, “Does tomorrow night work for you?”

Me: “I’m not sure I might have a work event.”

Him: “Honey, you are cancelling our plans. No worries, when are you available?”

Me: “I’m not sure if my work event is tomorrow or Thursday, I have to check and let you know.”

Him: “Honey, I understand if you have things to do :)”

The next day…

Him: “Hey babe are you free tonight?”

Me: “Sorry my work event is tomorrow night, but my friend just called me and asked if I could try bridesmaids dresses on with her tonight :/”

Him: “You keep cancelling! Are you real? Or do you just like to play games!”

Me: “I’m real and I don’t like games. I’m just busy, and these things keep popping up.”

Him: “Wedding does not pop up! You are shaking my trust! Just letting you know! I understand if you are not interested but just don’t lead me on! That’s not cool!!!” Three exclamations. He was serious.

Me: “Listen, my best friend just called and asked me to meet her after work to try on dresses because she needs to make a decision and can’t get everyone together. Am I supposed to just be like no, sorry? And, I have a going-away party for a coworker tomorrow that I initially thought was supposed to be today.  I don’t play games but like relax, you haven’t even met me yet.”

Him: “Ok when are you available??”

Me: “I can probably do next Monday or Tuesday.”

Him: “Fuck that! You are full of shit!”

Me: “Ok, whatever. I’m kinda over this.”

Him: “I don’t believe you!”

Me: “So don’t? What do you want me to tell you- I’m not gunna argue with someone I don’t know over my social life.”

Him: (in a series of 5 texts): “You are not honest! I’m not a big fan of dishonest girls! You keep coming out with excuses! You said we def will meet up on Monday after your annual camping-“

(I def never said this because I don’t even get home until Monday evening and I’m in no condition to move off my couch)

Him (again): “Then, you said Wednesday! And, now next week!!!!!” Five exclamation points this time. He meant business.

Him (still): “You don’t have to know me!!! Do you really respect yourself???” Apparently if you have to break plans, even only once, it’s because you don’t respect yourself. This one took a lot for me to not respond to.

Him (even more): “Words come out of humans mouths not their ass!”

I didn’t respond to any of this ridiculousness. It really wasn’t worth my time. If you’re this psycho now before we’ve even met- can you imagine what he would be like as a boyfriend? I have a faint vision of being smacked around for working late on date night. Jeeeeezus.

So, he thought 2 hours was enough time for me to cool down.

Him (yet again): “Are we cool?”

No response from me. So, maybe almost 24 hours would be enough time.

Him (for the last time, thank god): “Honey :)”

What a perfect way to end that scary ass text-ship.

Are there any guys out there who are just plain normal?

I have no morals, therefore I have no moral for this story. Please just fucking stop with the smiley faces. And, don’t call me “Honey,” Asshole.

Rockstars are Overrated

22 May

This wasn’t the proudest moment of my life. The bar I was working at got struck by lightning and burned down. Yeah, that actually happened. Needless to say, I was living off the McDonald’s Dollar Menu and scraping change out of my broken futon to support my alcohol addiction.

My crazy cokehead coworker, who was an even bigger mess than I was, got me a job bartending the happy hour shift deep in the depths of hell. We’re talkin’ a bar straight outta the movie From Dusk till Dawn only instead of vampires, I was left to fend off old men, toothless crackheads and the swinger couple who tried absolutely everything to take me home with them. I would work four hours, have like 3 customers and make more drinks for myself than anyone else. By 8pm I would stumble out of there rip-roaring, shitballs drunk just in time for the ultimate motorcycle mama to take over all of the tabs I started, and collect the remainder of my tips.

Friday nights were actually fairly busy at Hogs n’ Heffers Heaven, and nothing could beat the nights when they had a cover band. On this particular night, it was a good one. Bossman was spending the big bucks. He asked Cokeslore and I to hang around in case Motorcycle Mama couldn’t hack it. I knew that bitch would never share her tips with us, but I didn’t care because we were getting paid to drink for free.

My happy hour shift had been busier than usual, and all I heard the entire shift was that the lead singer was hot and looked just like Derek Jeter. I brushed it off because let’s face it, these broads probably would have thought Big Foot was sexy if he came sauntering in on a Saturday night. They weren’t exactly the most credible sources. Plus, I’m more of an A-Rod kind of girl, anyway.

However, these hags weren’t kidding. With his tan skin, icy blue eyes and backwards Yankees hat, “DJ” looked just like the Yankees shortstop, except he didn’t have that horrendous flat top haircut. He was HOTTT, and he knew it. So I did what I do best, I ignored him.

It turned out to be a packed house, and the thugs, bikers and crackheads were actually getting along. Cokeslore and I were having a grand old time slugging vodka, shaking our asses and watching every girl at the bar throw herself at the lead singer. I felt his eyes burning into me, but I just assumed it was part of his act to eye fuck every girl in the bar. He either saw me as a challenge or a safe place because I wasn’t giving him the time of day.

It was nearing the end of the night, and the band started to play Hinder’s “Lips of an Angel,” which was probably the most popular song on the radio at the time. Tell me why DJ broke through the sea of vaginas to drag me from the bar back to his mock-stage. He proceeded to serenade me in front of everyone! At the time, it was embarrassingly sexy. His voice. Being serenaded. The jealous looks of everyone else in the bar. OMG. Not to mention, the lead singer of a band is at the very top of my “Fuck-It List.”

As I look back on it now, the song is about cheating on his girlfriend with some hot broad with angelic lips. So romantical. But of course, that’s my life. After the show was over, DJ, his band, Cokeslore and I conversated over some cocktails before we moved on to an afterparty, and the band went to tend to some leftover groupies. I definitely didn’t give DJ my number, as a matter of fact, I’m not sure that I even told him my name. If he wanted to talk to me, he’d figure it out.

I woke up the next afternoon to a brutal hangover and a Myspace message from DJ. Yes, Myspace was super cool back then, and no, I still to this day have no idea how he found me. #Stalkerstatus. I’m not gunna lie though- I was souped. This guy was hot, he could sing and he was stalking my social networks to see me again. So I brushed my shoulders off, and made plans to meet him for drinks.

The first night we met for drinks was a bit of a drunken blur. We drank, A LOT. Then we made out, A LOT. We talked mostly about his band, which was cool I guess. We texted back and forth, and met for drinks a couple more times. He invited me to his shows, but I declined because I found it weird to watch a bunch of girls throw themselves at him.

One night, DJ took me to dinner. I knew this would be the night that I gave it up. He opened doors and pulled out my chair, but that’s about where everything took a turn for the worst. He decided to order for me while I was in the bathroom, and I definitely didn’t tell him what I wanted to eat. Then, since this was the first time I was totally sober, I realized that all he talked about was himself. I couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Every time I tried to join the conversation, he’d interrupt me with another story about how awesome he was. Because not only did he selfishly talk about himself the ENTIRE night, but he talked about how GREAT he was the entire night. It was nauseating.

I wanted to cross this one off my Fuck-It List, so I had my eyes on the prize. I downed a couple of drinks, and it was finally time to go back to my place.

I made sure my roommate wouldn’t be home, so we wasted no time getting to business. We burst through the door kissing furiously, we couldn’t keep our hands off each other through the kitchen, and by the time we got to my bedroom, we were ripping each other’s clothes off.

That’s when I realized that Mr. Rockstar’s obsession with himself extended into the bedroom. Let’s just say Oz saying “Suck me beautiful,” in American Pie would’ve been a billion times sexier than how DJ tried to get me in the mood.

I was already having my doubts when I saw it. His baby dick, or lack there of one. Size isn’t something that typically matters to me, especially in the heat of the moment, but this thing was SCARY. I was contemplating whether it could possibly be inverted, when I decided there was no way in hell I was going through with this.

I did what any rational girl in my situation would do- I played drunk. I told him I was way too drunk and he needed to get out. NOW. I threw his jeans at him, pushed him out the front door, waited 5 minutes and left to meet my roommate for drinks. DJ and I never spoke again.

The moral of this story is not that if you have a shrimpy schlong you will get kicked out of a girl’s bed the minute you let her see it. It’s that a person like that is never going to love anyone as much as they love themselves. Rockstars are used to the instant gratification of women throwing themselves at them night after night. They don’t need to worry or care if they are getting you off, because it’s on to the next one tomorrow. And, chances are their love of that giant microphone pole is overcompensation for what they’re lacking in their pants.

 

OkCupid Chronicles: The Undercover Offender Edition

20 May

A few weeks after my first online dating profile went up, I met Chris. He was the first person to message me that didn’t make me throw up in my mouth a little. We ended up messaging back and forth until 1am that night, and I gave him my number. He was about 5 years older than I was (which is exactly what I was looking for), a single dad (which I always find respectable), and seemed really sweet. He didn’t do any of the traditional online dating things I’m used to like asking for more pictures, pushing the sex/sexy talk too fast, and he actually seemed genuinely interested in getting to know me.

We’d exchange a few texts almost every day, and had plans to meet to watch a movie in the park. The Saturday before we were supposed to meet, at about 3am, I received a string of some of the most vulgar texts I have ever laid my eyes on.

Now I’m paraphrasing but the texts began with “I want to lick your wet, disgusting pussy, you dirty bitch…” and went on for about 10 pages. Now, you can probably tell that I’m not easily offended by my previous blog posts. I am definitely one of the most perverted people I know. So, please imagine how horrendous these texts were, if I sat there in some type of shocked disgust as I read them. I was rendered speechless even in the drunken state I was in.

Since it was a Saturday, I gave him the benefit of the doubt and assumed maybe he was drunk dialing someone else. Those texts couldn’t have been meant for me. So, when he texted me the next day like nothing happened, I responded with “Ah I guess you had fun last night. I got some texts that I don’t think were meant for me.”

“No, they were.”

“Ew,” was all I said back, and I never talked to him again.

Still to this day, almost a year later, I get random late night texts from this guy- each one more revolting than the last.

You have never met me, but thank you for assuming by the looks of me that I am a dirty bitch with a wet, disgusting pussy. It’s bad enough that I almost had to sit through an entire movie with you (thank god it was a public place), but even worse, you are someone’s father, sir.

Only me. This can’t be real life.

*I still have a heart. Names have been changed.

The Cure for a Bad Day

9 May

Today was a crap day. I woke up late. The rain left my hair frizzy and stuck to my face, and my stupid umbrella wouldn’t stay closed. Work sucked. Eh, you get the picture by now, don’t you? But just like that, my day turned around, and I thought I’d pass on the ingredients that cured my bad day.

  • Adam Levine. I brought it back to the early 2000’s on my commute home, and fantasized that I was Jane and Adam Levine and his delicious tattoos were singing only to me.
  • Free skincare products. One of our clients at work sent over my personalized skincare regimen worth over $100 for free! If it’s free, it’s for me.
  • Guacamole. Good fat makes me so happy.
  • A clean apartment. My roommate was nervous about the Knicks game, and when he’s nervous he cleans.
  • Serious eye sex with the Adonis that was jogging past my apartment.

And, now for the best part. I logged into my online dating profile, and I had 8 messages! That has to my all-time high for the number of messages in one day. I must be on the top of my game. So, I feel like I need to extend a personal thank you to each and every one of these men for reminding me exactly why my life is great, so here goes:

Thank you 350lb. man wearing spandex and stretching in a way no man should in every one of your photos.

Thank you gorgeous married man for choosing me to be a part of some weird sexcapade with you and your swinger wife.

Thank you guy who wonders if there is more to me than a pretty face.

Thank you 20-year-old baby for making me feel like a rapist while simultaneously boosting my self-esteem with your sweet and simple, “Cute.”

Thank you old enough to be my dad man for diving right in, giving me your digits and telling me you want to make babies.

Thank you awkward I’m going to message you multiple times before you respond guy.

Thank you sir, but I don’t speak Swahili or whatever language it is you are writing to me in.

Thank you guy who is surprised that no one has put a ring on it yet. So am I.

I can’t even make this stuff up. Welcome to my world. I hope this cheers you up as much as it did me.

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