Get A Scale Buddy

Ok…so this must officially be Fat Week or something. I think I need to post a special message on my profile saying:

“If you’re over 250 lbs, don’t you fucking dare wink or email me.”

Today I opened my online dating inbox for the first time in about 10 days…and had 9 emails… ALL from OBESE men. Was this some sort of sick joke?

For those of you who know me- you know that I’m in no shape or form close to resembling an ogre. So what the fuck goes through these guys’ heads when they see my profile? Let’s face it…the Tom Brady’s and Brad Pitts of the world end up with bombshell top models or Angelina Jolie. Good-looking people naturally find one another and so do the not-as-genetically-blessed people. I’m not classifying myself as belonging to either of these categories…but simply saying that it’s not in my stars to end up squashed and asphyxiated in the missionary position with a fat man’s stomach plastered across my face.

Now I know I’m slightly exaggerating, and this is not to say that people only go for good looks and nothing else matters…because if that were true, there’d be WAY more single people out there. Obviously chemistry and attraction can happen in many ways…and personalities can outweigh a lot of other stuff. Given all this, and the fact that if I were a) that obese or b) that ugly- I’d try to bring something else to the table (and not in the caloric sense)- I at least was nice enough to give these fatties a chance by seeing if they had anything interesting to say in their emails. Or perhaps they’d attempt to woo me with their sharp wit.

Negative. They were just fat, ugly and completely uninteresting. Three of the emails are copied and pasted here:

“I saw your profile and it sparked an interest. Hit me back if you want to chat.”

“First off my name is Tom. I came across your profile and it interested me. I think you and I should get to know each other.”

“You seem really nice. I’d love to talk some more.”

YAWNNN. Ohhh 1-line emails. These NEVER capture my interest whether a guy is hot or not. But if you haven’t been on a scale or to the gym in over a year- you’ve got to give me a little to work with here. Telling me I “seem nice” doesn’t give me a warm fussy feeling…and telling me that “we should get to know each other” only leaves me wondering WHY THE HELL would I want to do that?!

Anyway…I was UBER tempted to include pics of these guys on here so that you’d be able to further understand my disgust and utter shock…but I decided that that’d just be pure mean. I need to stop trying to analyze why my profile has attracted so many fat weirdos in the last week (I’m seriously a bit concerned). Maybe those who run the online dating website just got mad at me for deactivating my account the other day (don’t worry I’m still on it for 2 more months). I bet now they’re just feeding my profile to the ugliest men possible as revenge. Ok- time for bed- clearly thinking crazy thoughts. G’night.

Do you speak Prada?

Karl works at a hedge fund and is a professional poker player on the side. To put it simply: he’s loaded.

If he hadn’t told me about his job during our 30 minute walk around the West Village, as he tried to find a restaurant he had said was “just around the corner,” I would’ve never figured it out. He had wanted to meet me on a random street corner. Although I might’ve resembled a prostitute the night he’d met me (I was a bit drunk and dancing on a table in 6-inch heels)- I’m not the type of girl who meets men on street corners. In my experience with rich guys, they usually know exactly where they want to eat and will dictate where they’re taking you to BEFORE the date. At least he praised my new black boots on our walk and quickly added, “I’m not gay, I promise. They’re just really nice.”

He ordered one of the cheapest entrées on the menu, and our wine tasted SOUR, but he insisted on drinking it anyway because he didn’t want to make a fuss with the waiter. Two glasses of sour wine later… I asked him how he spends his free time, besides dropping $50K a night at the poker table. “I hang out at home a lot with my roommate. I’m not gay or anything haha, we’re just good friends!”

By his 4th “I’m not gay” comment, I was really starting to think that this guy was indeed gay. I imagined him at a faggy poker orgy, with guys placing poker chips up his ***…my attraction to him took a dive from a 6 to a 0. The more we talked, it became apparent that this guy didn’t travel nor go out a lot. I asked him if all the money he won through poker just went straight into his savings account. Karl grinned and leaned in as if he were about to tell me a secret. Then…as if being confused about my date’s sexuality weren’t already enough, he confessed, “I love to shop!”

The rest of our conversation went like this:

Karl: Don’t you just love Prada’s Fall collection?
Me: I haven’t seen it.
Karl: One of my favorite men’s designers is Antonio Marras. You know him?
Me: Nope, haven’t heard of him. So, have you done a lot of shopping lately?
Karl: Yes, I just bought 40 pairs of jeans this month! I LOVE jeans.

This almost made me fall off my chair, literally. “40 pairs of jeans?!” I repeated loud enough that the couple next to us turned. I searched his face to see if he was joking- but he was dead serious about it. WTF. As I tried to wrestle with the fact that I was on a date with a weirdo who owns 10x more jeans that I do, I pictured my 4 lonely pairs dangling in my closet. I wanted to ask him if he wore a different pair every day of the year, but I had heard enough. Whether Karl was straight or gay- I decided right there- that I could never date a guy who owns more clothes than I do. Can you please send a manly-man my way?

The Other Side

Sometimes I wonder what other women are like on first dates and if they take the online dating thing more seriously than I do. Last night I had the pleasure of observing this first-hand.

I was sitting by myself at a candle-lit restaurant in Soho waiting for a friend who was running late. The Mexican waiter who had a mountain of grease infested hair on his head, kept giving me the eye and would wink at me every time he passed by. He offered me a drink “on the house”…and I foolishly accepted, which basically was like inviting him to pester me all night. I should’ve known better given my experience at the age of 13 with a similar Mexican waiter named Moses, who at the time told my mom he would one day marry me and asked her to never let me wear lipstick in front of the boys at my school. Gross.

As I sat there, quietly sipping on my cocktail, I was shaken up by a gruesome gurgling and high pitched sound coming from the table next to me. “Ahhh hahahahahahahhaha gaaaa ahahaha!!” Alarmed, I turned to discover the source of this horrendous laugh. She was a pale redhead with freckles around the age of 35. When this unattractive lady wasn’t laughing, she would just have an awkward worried expression on her face. There was a stench in the air…it was her desperateness.

Her date was at least five years younger than her, and would smile in embarrassment every time she’d let out the laugh. She not only had the most annoying laugh I had ever heard, but pink blotches started appearing around her neck and chest. Great, I thought…she is clearly breaking out in hives on what seems to be a first date.

However, the hives didn’t stop her from saying what no woman should EVER say on any date, “Yeah Josh, I’ve been on Match.com for about two years now. I was seeing this guy I met on the site and I really liked him…and then he just disappeared. I was heartbroken. I hope you’re not like that. I really want to find that special someone.” The poor dude shifted in his chair and let out a cough. He needed saving.

Then she smiled and leaned in closer to him and asked, “You won’t just disappear on me, right?” I watched in terror as she broke out in more hives. Was this woman out of her mind?! I started fantasizing about starting a 101 dating course for inept women like her or just about how maybe all women like her should be banned from ever having an internet connection. Imagine all those poor guys who would be saved…

‘Josh,’ who I could tell was uncomfortable with having this crazy bitch so close to his face, leaned back in his chair and answered, “Don’t worry about that.”

“Well good, now that that’s settled!” she let out the loudest gurgle laugh again.

But her verbal diarrhea continued. “Ya know, I’ve been thinking of buying a dog, unless I meet someone on Match soon. I think a pet would make it less lonely, don’t you think? I would probably have to get a dog walker during the day though.” I wanted to yell at her date and tell him to LEAVE. What the fuck was he sticking around for?! To make matters worse they were only on the first course and she was too distracted by his presence to even focus on eating her appetizer.

The whole thing was making me nervous, and I wasn’t even the poor fool on the date with her. My friend finally arrived and I got to tune out for a while. When ‘Josh’ was getting the check, I glanced over and noticed that Ms. My Desperateness Gives Me Hives was visibly drunk. Her laugh kept bouncing off the walls and now she was trying to get him to go home with her…hives and all. He told her he had to run to meet a friend but that he would call her. “AHhhhh gagagaga hahahahaha, you BETTER call me!” Then her laughing stopped and the worried face was back, “You probably won’t call…”

Bottom line: some people are just inept daters and they don’t know it. Just sucks for the rest of us who ever have to get stuck on a date with them.

The Ivy League of Online Dating

I obviously haven’t “graduated” in the world of online dating according to eHarmony’s recent TV ads that pose them as the graduate school of online dating websites…for people who are ready for REAL grown-up relationships. There’s been an interesting shift in their advertising strategy from TV ads featuring stories by gooey eyed couples at ice rinks and nature trails to self-proclaiming themselves as the “relationship” website and targeting older audiences.

Apparently being THAT in love gives you the strength and balance to do a push-up against the rail of a ferryboat- while kissing your ethnically diverse girlfriend and making sure you don’t throw her overboard. Cool. Sign me up.

While this may work for some, I’m probably too liberal and not Christian enough to join eHarmony; led by Christian founder Dr. Warren (who only believes in matching heterosexuals). I’m also just too lazy to fill out their long ass questionnaire and am not interested in marrying my twin soul or someone who’s compatible with me on 29 dimensions. All this being said, I’m still a freshman at the online school of dating…and I’m on eHarmony’s competitor site, that is “based on pictures and 1-paragraph profiles”. I guess I’m just THAT shallow. I have friends who’ve tried eHarmony and complain about the lack of profile pictures, being matched with people who live far away and who are way too old for them. I think eHarmony should watch and learn a bit before pretending to be the Ivy League of online dating- oops, I mean online “relationships”.

And can we just talk about how much freaking money these “success story couples” are making every time they fucking re-appear in a commercial, or are in magazine and online ads?! Let me just say they’re wealthier than most people you’ll ever meet! You think they’d get sick of each other after spending hours together driving to shoots, posing for the camera, waiting in between takes, and dancing around in their socks in their pretend living room…but nooo…it only makes their bond stronger- because they’re just THAT perfect for each other. I liked this ad about the artsy couple the best- nothing like finishing one another’s sentences, creating art together, and dancing until 5am to no music splattered in clay and dust, a la Patrick Swayze and Demi Moore in Ghost.

So takeaways- unless you:

a) Enjoy answering 450 questions
b) Are ready to spend hours on the phone with a complete stranger
c) Want to nosedive into a relationship
d) Are irrational

…you should probably be content if you’re only a freshman in the online dating world…or even better, have never tried it! Only sign up if you’re convinced you can become a poster couple and roll in the dough.

Live from Hicksville

-Courtesy of Kaydi-

A little over a month ago I decided that I needed to become more athletic. My routine of driving to work, sitting at a desk chair all day and then driving back home to go sit on my couch was getting a little sedentary. I was in the mood to try your not-so-typical kind of sport and decided to take up archery lessons. I live in Virginia and it’s not difficult to find a place to go shoot some arrows around here. I Googled a decent place to go buy a bow and located a store that’s an hour away.

I drove to the middle of nowhere and finally found Bowhunters Haven. I walked into the dark store that smelled musty like an old basement, to find myself surrounded by bear and moose heads hanging on the wall, rifles, and what appeared to be alligator traps. I didn’t even know we had alligators in Virginia. Then a scruffy but good-looking guy wearing a “SCOTT” nametag came out from the back room. “How may I help you mam’?” Scott hooked me up with a special bow made for beginners. He then proceeded to hand me a form that was a life long warranty for the bow. I guess you can’t really break a bow that easily unless your fat uncle sits on it or something. I signed it and filled out all my information.

Two weeks later, I got a call from a strange number. “Hey, it’s Scott from Bowhunters Haven. Not sure if you remember me, but you were at my store buying a beginners bow a few weeks back. I got your number from the warranty you signed.” I was embarrassed that he had to rub in the fact that I was a beginner. “Oh hi. Yes, I remember. Is there a problem with the warranty I signed?” I asked. “Haha no, no. I don’t mean to be unprofessional, but I thought you looked nice and I don’t know if you’re married or what, but I’m calling to ask you out,” he paused waiting for an answer. I didn’t know what to say and never imagined going on a date with some random guy from a hunting store who got my # off a warranty, but I was bored with my dating life and he was cute…so I agreed to it.

I picked a nice restaurant for our date and sat at the bar at 9pm to wait for him. Half an hour later there was still no sign of him. I sipped on my second martini. Was I really being stood up by Scott from Bowhunters Haven? At 10pm, I was ready to leave and started gathering my coat, when Scott walked in the door wearing a big sweatshirt and baggy jeans as if he were ready to go on a shopping spree at Walmart. We sat down and I asked him if everything was ok- given that he was an hour late. “Yeah, I just got lost on the drive up here and I don’t have a cell phone because I don’t get any signal where I live.”

The waitress came by and began to tell us what the specials for the night were as he interrupted her, “We’ll just be picking something from the menu- we don’t need to hear them all.” He was certainly decisive. “I’ll have a lemonade,” he said after I ordered another martini. So this guy didn’t want to hear the specials nor drink any alcohol. He told me he never drinks because he’s an evangelist and that alcohol leads to evil. “I must be on a terrible path then,” I said. He didn’t find it funny.

When our meal finally came, he looked up at me and asked, “Do you want to say a prayer before we eat?” I don’t fucking pray. He went on without me and prayed for what seemed like an eternity, while I stared at him and then ravenously at my food…hurry the fuck up already. After prayer session ended, he dug into his food with his bare hands. I looked at him as he put shrimp into his mouth and sucked his fingers clean. He continued to do this with all the different kinds of fish in his seafood platter. He shoved his tongue into the shells of his mussels and clams trying to dig the meat out. Disgusting. Buddy, that mouth is getting nowhere near me tonight.

I asked for the check and he didn’t want to leave. He wanted to play a mad dash of Q&A.

“What’s your favorite old movie?”
“How come you don’t have a boyfriend?”
“Who’s your favorite celebrity?”

Really? Are we at summer camp? When the check came, I offered to split it with him and he said he’d take care of it. Then he asked twice, “So how much do you think the check is for?” WTF.

Here are some redneck pics for your entertainment:

Redneck Toilet

Redneck Prom Queens

Redneck Swimming Pool

Redneck Wedding

Redneck Sex-Ed Class

You live around here?

I was walking back home last night from my pilates class feeling absolutely great. I crossed Amsterdam Ave and as I was about to reach the sidewalk…there he was…right in front of me. Our eyes met and there was simply no way I could avoid literally bumping into him. Fuck. You’d think that in a city as large as New York, where there are millions of people running on different schedules, you wouldn’t end up accidentally running into someone you’d rather never see again. Well, it doesn’t really work that way…

Victor was one of my more ‘successful’ dates from the website. He was smart and kind. We had been on 2 dates and had spent hours talking over dinner. One night we went to the movies and something didn’t feel right. I really wanted to like him because I knew he was a good guy- but the chemistry was MIA. As he walked me home that night I was dreading being kissed. Luckily, he didn’t touch me.

I realized that on the first 2 dates I hadn’t really gotten a good look at his body. Maybe it was because he’d been sitting most of the time- or I’d just had one too many glasses of wine. On the movie night, he was wearing a really tight and faggy looking t-shirt that made his arms look fat and frumpy. I called my friend after the 3rd not-so-good date for some tough love:

Friend: I thought you said he was 6’3, and you love tall guys!
Me: Um…yeah. His face is ok but I got turned off every time I looked down.
Friend: He sounds great to me- I think you’re being too picky.
Me: Yeah, perhaps I should give it another chance- I just have zero desire to even kiss him. Ok, and get this- you might think I’m crazy but…I swear his head is disproportionate to his body. It’s like his head is too small for the rest of his body- it looks really weird.
Friend: OMG- you’re insane. You’re so picky…listen to yourself! You’re saying he looks like a lollypop?!
Me: No, more like an inverted upside-down lollypop. A lollypop is when someone’s head is too big for their body.

Regardless, my friend convinced me that I was being a huge bitch and that I should give Victor one more chance to sweep me off my feet. Him and I decided to go out dancing one night- but I prepared myself by ensuring that there’d be a cushiony buffer between the two of us. I told him to bring his roommates and I invited my girl Hal to come along and instructed her on how to quickly evacuate the premises if necessary. Victor’s hair was gelled back and he was wearing a button down shirt with a dragon on it and baggy jeans. I smiled my gag reflex away and reminded myself that he had some good qualities.

The night was a mixture of Victor’s robotic and zombie-like dance moves, me fleeing to other corners of the dance floor, and Hal’s attempts to make-out with Victor’s friend who wasn’t having it. AWESOME. Although I was being nice to Victor, I think he realized I wasn’t interested. I felt bad. Was I picky to a fault? I asked Hal what she thought of him. “He seems like a nice enough guy,” she said. “No Hal…I mean physically.” Then, to both my horror and delight she said it… “It’s kind of weird but his head is kind of small.” I knew I wasn’t crazy! She confirmed it- and with that- I told Victor I had to leave.

He never texted after that night and a month of peaceful bliss passed by- until last night that is. I’ve taken some acting classes in my life and they typically come in handy in these sort of situations. “Hey!!” I squealed in my peppiest voice, flashing a big smile. He didn’t act as excited to see me. To make matters worse he was there with his roommate, who I could feel was eyeing my every move. I had to walk in the same direction as Victor for 4 more blocks and I didn’t feel like changing paths just because of him. I tried talking to him and it was like pulling teeth. He hated me. “What are you doing up here by the way?” I asked. “I just moved here,” he said pointing to my street sign. Haha- on my street? For real? Haha- aren’t there like thousands of OTHER streets in Manhattan that you could possibly move to? “Oh yey, now we’re neighbors!” I said ready to hurl. I told him that we could now be grocery shopping buddies. He didn’t think it was funny.

As I walked away I was relieved he no longer liked me. At least living near him didn’t mean we’d have to hang out. Then Victor texted me:

“Hey- what did you think about the last time we hung out? I kinda got a strange feeling from you, but do you want to give it another try and hang out soon? ”

The Knight Without a Horse

Sam had deep blue eyes that I knew I’d have no trouble staring into all night. Judging from his online profile (his favorite books that were listed, and the law school he graduated from), Sam struck me as a smart and well-rounded guy. We’d been trying to meet up for a while, but he’d been on vacation upstate for the last 5 days. I was excited for our date and I chose to sit at a low-lit and hidden corner table so that we could have some privacy. After we ordered cocktails, I asked him about his vacation.

“I didn’t get much rest. I was actually running around all day in armor!” he said. His blue eyes gleamed with passion and I knew I had a comedian on my hands. I laughed and played along with his joke.

“Oh yeah? What were you doing wearing armor?” I whispered trying to sound flirty.

“I make my own armor and I’m pretty proud of that because a lot of people buy theirs. It takes more planning and work to construct it- but it’s more legit that way in my mind. I was fighting against the Kingdom of Aethelmearc!” he said beaming.

He definitely had an odd sense of humor but at least he was trying to amuse me. He was a hot lawyer- and that’s all that mattered- so what if his humor was slightly off? He continued…

“It’s a medieval reenactment battle that takes place upstate a few times a year. You spend the whole day outside, even when it rains, and you only sleep in 20-minute intervals at night in case the enemy attacks. That’s why I’m kind of tired, but I always come back really energized at the same time.” He said all of this very matter-of-factly.

This guy was thrilled about his medieval war achievements…and SERIOUS. It almost hit me as hard as the vodka tonic I had just downed- and I pretty much launched forward to grab the waitress’s arm as she passed by and told her we’d take some tequila shots. Then he asked me what my hobbies were. I told him I liked yoga.

“See…my battles are like what yoga must be like for you. It’s such a great feeling while you’re doing it and afterwards you just feel amazing. I think you’d be perfect for a battle by the way- you seem athletic and focused. You should really look into it!”

I just nodded and leaned my head back to flood my mouth with tequila. Feeling a little happier and woozy after the shot, I decided to have some fun with the situation. The next minutes of our conversation went like this:

Me: That sounds fascinating! You must have a horse too, right?
Knight: No, unfortunately not – we’re mostly on foot at the one I go to.
Me: So if I were to go to one of these battles, what would I be?
Knight: You can be whomever you want!! That’s why it’s so great! People change their
real names and take on new ones. I’m Knight Ferdinand Rothson- there are also
Dukes, Barons, Duchesses- people can take on any identity they want. We also
adopt accents.
Me: Well, I would want to be a princess then- but I’d want to sleep in a castle.
Knight: Yeah- you could be a princess. We don’t have castles per-se, most people sleep
in cots but I’m sure something could be arranged.

He sipped on his drink and told me he knows a lady who in real life is an IT Consultant but makes costumes for the women that attend the battles. He said he’d be glad to put me in touch with her. I was getting bored.

Me: Ok, so let’s get real……..how much sex goes down at these kinda things?

He paused for a few seconds and kind of just blinked at me like I had just asked something extremely inappropriate. He looked offended.

Knight: Well sex is not really the point of going to battles. People are more focused on
what’s going on and on not being attacked.

I was about to say something about how people had lots of sex in medieval times and just didn’t go around telling their neighbors about it…but I stopped myself short. Awesome- so you get to sleep in dirty cots for 5 sexless nights in make-believe land where grown up men and women pretend to stab each other with fake swords. I guess sex in 20-minute intervals would be a big bummer anyway. As we left the bar he told me he had recently quit his job at the law firm to write a book and spend more time at reenactments.

This guy wasn’t just talking out of his a**, these things really exist to my surprise. Watch this:

When bad past dates ask you to….

VOLUNTEER. Yes…I said fucking volunteer. I had a horribly awkward date with Howard about 3 weeks ago. IT DID NOT GO WELL. He obviously didn’t get the hint either from my non-existent responses to any of his texts asking me out again…so when all else fails…he asks me to volunteer for a cause. It’s not enough that I already have to put up with my Gmail inbox fucking flooding all the time with charity related emails. I must delete at least 15 of them a day. They’re usually from charities I was once interested in joining but then…..LIFE happened. I feel guilty about moving them into my spam folder and always wish that they’ll somehow magically stop sending me stuff…but they never do. The last organization I belonged to harassed me so much with daily phone calls, zillions of emails, and meetings, that I QUIT. I’m still not ready to come out of volunteering rehab. So you must imagine how I must’ve felt when I was sitting in the comfort of my home after a long stressful day and got this text from Howard:

“Would be great if you could join me next Thurs night to rally up some people for my Dems event!”

Ok…Definition of “rally up” (v): to stand outside in the cold with flyers (typically under the rain) pretending you’re loving every second of it, and yelling out at New Yorkers who take you to be a schizo homeless person and ignore you.

Sounds like a perfect night to me! Why would I even think of going to a party with friends on a Thursday night, or to a fun concert, or to a cool restaurant…when I could be volunteering instead? Does Howard think our love will blossom in the heat of organizing, dressed up in ugly oversized t-shirts? Maybe. I told him “No thanks- I’m already swamped with the other 10 charities I’m in charge of”. There’s a chance that might’ve turned him on…oops.

The Mute

I literally forced myself to go out last night. I was uptown, it was cold, I had had one of those days at work where you don’t even have time to take a piss, and I was falling asleep. My date wanted me to meet him downtown and I honestly didn’t have the energy to trek all the way down there from the Upper West Side.

When I asked him if he’d be able to meet me closer to midtown he said NO and that the restaurant he was suggesting would be “worth the extra blocks”…yeah ‘extra blocks’ my ass. I accepted reluctantly. As I was walking there, I realized that I had completely forgotten his name. “Damn…what was it?! Sam? Chuck? Mark? Ok, maybe I’ll just go with Chuck. He looks like a Chuck.”

I got there before he did. “So where are you coming from?” I asked him when he arrived. He pointed to a brick building across the street and said, “I live there.” AWESOME. It’s gotta take A LOT of effort to cross the f’n street…dating this guy would cost me $500 in cabs a month. He smiled and said, “I don’t take public transportation. I work really near to my place too. I just hate commuting anywhere.” Like going to MIDTOWN is a huge commute…I hated him already. As we waited for our table, he must have fixed his dark bangs at least 12x. He had a Paul McCartney casserole haircut. He was definitely a good-looking guy, but to make a painfully long story short- this was the way our night went down:

I would feed him questions about anything I could think of, “So, what does your job involve?” “You’re new to the city, how do you like it so far?” I wasn’t trying to make it into an interview…but that’s what it ended up being…because the dude not only didn’t ask me anything, but he’d give me 1 line answers and then clam up again and sit in silence. I definitely clearly state in my profile that GOOD CONVERSATION is KEY. He’s also VP at a huge American corporation…but somehow lacks minimal social skills. I was tempted to ask him how the hell he got his job. OH- the thing he did manage to communicate was that he was a SEX ADDICT- but that it just meant that he really loves having sex with one girl at a time. After I was done wolfing down my ravioli- I gave up. I ran out of questions. His silence made me want to punch him. The waiter came with the desert menu and I didn’t give ‘Chuck’ the chance to answer, “I think we’re good. Check please!” I’d never been so BORED in my life. He started playing on his phone.

I got this text from him today:

“I have to say: you are a perfect blend of character and sass, wrapped up in a beautiful packing of dark undertones and blinding highlights. Thx for dinner. – Patrick”

Ok- so it almost sounds like he’s describing a fine wine…can someone please assure me that this quote is from a song or something? Ugh.

An Old Psycho Tale

My friend Rob was having a comedy show and I showed up solo. Two of his guy friends were there to cheer him on, so I sat with them. One of the guys, Tom, was sort of cute in a Nick Carter teenybopper kind of way and he started flirting with me right away. Tom was from out of town and was only around for a week to visit his family. After we left, we exchanged phone numbers. I had decided to give him mine because I was on a slight dry spell and thought that maybe he’d be ok to sleep with since he was leaving town soon anyway.

He called me the next day and we made plans to meet up. He took me to a really fancy restaurant across the street from Carnegie Hall, where the average age was 60. All the ladies there were wearing long winter coats and had perms. I was slightly confused by his choice- not typically the kind of place 20 something year olds go to hang out at. Oh well- I ignored the ambiance and just downed 3 dirty martinis. I was feeling pretty frisky after my drinks and grabbed his hand and invited him to come sit next to me on my side of the table. He liked this, and we immediately started making out. I’m sure the adult theater crowd really enjoyed watching this. Then I told him that we should leave and go to my place. I’m not the type of girl who usually takes charge in these situations or sleeps around- but that night was different- I was on a mission.

By the time we reached my lobby I was pretty pleased with myself. This was going well and I wouldn’t be horny for much longer. We got to my bed and he ripped my jeans off and flung them across the room. I liked his style. He climbed on top of me and we had another passionate make out session. I wanted to hurry things a long so I reached into his jeans and felt him up- only to discover that the hard rock I was looking for was not there! My mind started racing- how could he not be turned on from all that rolling around in my bed?! He probably even had less to drink than I did!! Then- he smacked my hand out of his crotch area and told me he didn’t “trust me” but promised that he would please me. “I really like you- and I don’t want to ruin a possibly good thing by having sex too soon. I’d like to get to know you and see where this goes…that’s why I want to wait,” he said. I should’ve blurted out that he should be on Viagra and that him not wanting to rush things wasn’t an excuse for the fact that his ‘member’ was MIA during all of that dry humping.

I was weirded out by the whole thing, but was like “ok whatever” because I was tired, drunk and still horny. He said, “Ok, now I’m going to go down on you, and you’re going to lie very still and put your hands behind your head.” I wasn’t sure if I should be turned on by his doctor-style explanation of the procedure he was about to perform or RUN. His blue eyes looked up at me in the dark from below my waist and in a serious voice he said, “If you move or touch my head to make me stop- I will PUNCH you in the face.”

I froze. Oh great- the one time I bring a guy home he turns out to be a psycho serial killer. I could have kicked him in the face with my knee and tried to run out of my apartment naked…but I thought it’d be safer to obey and follow the psycho’s rules and lay still rather than to take one to the face. “I want to take your clit in my teeth and bite you”. I almost felt nauseous and quietly whispered, “I prefer it when you’re gentle,” fearing that I’d get smacked. He went down to work and I just hoped he’d get it over with quickly…so I had to pretend that I was semi enjoying it…I should’ve won an Oscar for that act. When he finished I thanked him and said, “OK, thanks, that felt good- but you should get going. You see, my roommate is a huge b**** and doesn’t let me have guys over or else she comes into my room and will start yelling at you to get out. I really don’t want to see her face in here, so you must leave,” I lied. I quickly put on my clothes and pushed him out the door.

Tom kept trying to contact me after that night and said he had had a really great time and that he wanted to see me next time he was in New York. I figured that he’d either kill me if I allowed there to be a “next time” or that he’d pull another, “I’m not ready to take this to the next level” crap and that I’d be better off masturbating. To this day, I still ignore the texts he sends every once in a while saying, “Hey, what’s up?”

-Courtesy of Pam588-