Friday, June 16, 2006

A Shitty Date... Again.

I am a bona-fide loser magnet.

Did I hear an astonished gasp? I can almost hear you whispering amongst yourselves, "Nah. It ain't so!" He's fun. Handsome (nee woofy!). Sarcastic. And possibly (to use a woefully underused term from Mean Girls) 'fetch'." But alas, its true.

First let me define the term. Loser (loo'zhur): n. (der. sanskrit 'lusara' meaning to scrape away with a stick) 1. not a winner 2. a person with no dating merits (aka scrub) 3. nerd with no hollywood transformation possibilities 4. someone who has misplaced something such as common sense, etc.

My losers tend to fall into a few categories. First, the 80 year old man. Evidently I am VERY attractive to the Tampa Bay set. Second, the 40-something with no job. Third, the stalker.

My last date was with a stalker.

Now, I'm not stupid but I am subject to flattery. And this guy (we'll call him "Bob" for that's his name) said I was very cute. I think he even used the word "hot"-- which had I had my thinking cap on, I would have picked up as the first red flag.

The online chatting went relatively well, and his picture was decent (albeit old). I did the math and added 4 years to his online age, and about 20 lbs to his picture- and with all that I still thought he looked decent enough to meet.

And so I agreed to a coffee date. At a neutral location between our respective homes (see? I can be smart).

When he walked up, I realized I should have used the 'new math' and added about 60 pounds to his picture, and about 8 years. But no matter- I do like the beef. And he still had retained some of his ex collegiate football player build (huge legs!) Oh, and he had a hairy chest, and was fairly masculine. Blue eyes. All things in the plus column.

Negatives: bad moussed thinning hair that was swept back. not a good look. on anyone. Bad southern accent. Penchant for staring at my crotch.

And so his date began. I would've said "our" date, had he not spent the first 15 minutes ranting about his ex-best friend Christopher that he just had a run-in with in Ft. Lauderdale during their vacation that he just got back from but it wasn't really a vacation because Christopher made him insane by hitting on him every few minutes and trying to get him to sleep in his bed but that just wouldn't work because Bob just wanted friendship and then the woofy neighbor starting hitting on Bob and it pissed Christopher off so they had a fight and then neighbor and Bob went to get BBQ down the road.....

You get the idea. I swear the man has mastered circular breathing because he did not stop for one second during his diatribe.

Then it went on to the "what do you do" conversation. I told him about my boring job in 5 minutes. He told me about his in 30 where he dropped such names as Patti Labelle, Lee Greenwood, Jim Valvano, etc. The names thudded about like so many toads from a apocalyptic thunderstorm.

Then we discussed likes. He mentioned that he enjoys comedy movies with Whoopi Goldberg. And that's about it. Oh, and he LOVES the movie 'Sordid Lives' which I hate. He hates star wars and has never seen a Harry Potter movie-- mainly because of the religious connotations.

He's a church-goin Baptist. Every Sunday. Uggh! I am decidedly NOT Baptist.

Then hobbies. He enjoys travel and lounging on a beach. I can't sit still on a beach for more than 10 minutes without going crazy.

A couple of the red flags that went up during the conversation: when he talked about his friends and how he couldn't wait for me to meet them. Or when he talked about travel and said, 'We should plan a trip to Key West...". I'd known him for one hour at that point.

Then the coup de grace....

We got up to leave (and go our separate ways), and as we start walking- he drops something. Or more accurately, something drops from him and proceeds to roll on the ground and under an adjacent table. I see it roll and stop, and it is without a doubt a rubber "O" ring... a cock ring! His cock ring had fallen off, slid down his shorts leg, and then rolled away from him.

He retrieves it saying (I shit you not), "Hmm, I wonder what that was? probably something off the bottom of the cup." Then he fakes throwing it in the garbage only to shove it in his pocket.

As I'm driving in the parking lot for the exit, my phone rings. its him. He just wants to call to say he had a great time and is looking forward to our next date.

He calls me 4 times on Saturday but only leaves a message two times. Then he calls me twice on Sunday.

I don't return the calls.

Then he calls me twice on MONDAY while I'm at work (he's leaving messages on my cell phone). I finally text him back and let him know that I got ALL his messages and that one would have been sufficient.

Long story longer- I called him on Monday and told him that this wasn't going to work and that I just didn't see it going any further.

I'm glad I don't have any pet rabbits so that I can come home to "hossenpfeffer suprise".


At 4:23 PM, Blogger 9W aka 9thWave aka Nthwave said...

damn - you didn't tell me about the cock ring.

that's too fuckin' funny.... how does a cock ring (especially a rubber one at that) fall off?


At 1:32 AM, Anonymous Brian said...

Oh. My. God. As if I didn't hate dating enough. Now, I think I'll never date again.

At 9:05 AM, Blogger buff said...

Yea, we all can relate, stud. Hoping this is all in the past and a funny memory.


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