Month: July 2017

The Bobcat

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I matched with a guy on Tinder and actually reached out and sent him a message. I did this only because I thought I was on Bumble and had to send the first message. I like to get the weird out of people right away. I want them to open up and spill everything to me and I’m good at getting them to do that. Too good at it. People often tell me things that I never wanted to know because for some reason they can smell the “Don’t Give a Fuck” on me. I’m rarely shocked by anything because I’ve seen and heard it all.

My first message just was asking what kind of trouble he got into over the weekend. He wouldn’t tell me at first but with some prodding he finally admitted that the night before he had a threesome and did cocaine all night long. Perfect. Now we’re getting somewhere. While this might be a huge red flag for most girls and they go running in the opposite direction, I need to know more. I need to meet this guy.

Throughout the rest of the day we end up realizing we graduated from the same high school 5 years apart. (Go Bobcats!) We talk about what we like and dislike in a potential partner and what kinds of hobbies we have outside of sex and drugs and drinking. He asked me to tell him about a bad date so I told him about a guy who made me pay for brunch after he was the one who invited me out!  This guy tells me I’ll never have to bring my purse when I hang out with him because he’s some kind of baller apparently and he says I’ll never have a story to write about him in my blog. I highly doubted that. Look who was right! He asked me to go on a date the next night. I’m in.

We meet at Celeste because he knows the owners apparently. He must not know them too well or they may have told him that they are closed on Mondays. We cab it over to London House instead. We want a rooftop! My fellow Bobcat and I drink, and drink and talk and laugh and he keeps giving me a hefty bag of blow every time I leave to use the bathroom. I like him! I take him to my secret spot on the rooftop. Don’t ask where it is, I’ll never tell. We sit there, looking at our gorgeous city that I fall more in love with almost every single day. I show him the spot where I got married and told him all about the marriage and pending divorce. He’s not bothered by it. We take pictures of the skyline and river and each other. It was a perfect night if you’re into any of these things. Unfortunately now the rooftop is closing so we have to leave.

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It’s now that I realize I lost my vaporizer. What’s a girl to do!? Cocaine and alcohol in my system and no nicotine!? I’ll die! We hop in a cab and I get out at 7-11 to buy a crappy e-cig so I don’t go buy a pack of cigarettes instead. We head over to one last spot in River North for another drink or two before calling it a night. Everything is going well until I laugh so hard and lean forward, catching a glimpse of a shiny bald head and immediately my heart stops beating, my body gets as hot as lava and my eyes almost pop out of my head. “We have to leave right this second. My ex husband is here and he’s a very dangerous person. Pay the tab and let’s go out the emergency exit.” Without skipping a beat, this guy does exactly that but first asks the bartender if an alarm will sound if we go out the backdoor. She has no idea so I tell them both that we’re all about to find out!!

SUCCESS! We escaped without being murdered by my ex and no alarms went off! Woo! The Bobcat put me in an Uber and paid for me to get home and checked on me to make sure I was safe when I got there. Despite the Monday night drug use, I think I found a winner! It doesn’t hurt that he has a bad ass condo and two cute dogs.

 

My First Bumble Nightmare cont…

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Ok, so it was the Grand Lux Café, the “upscale” Cheesecake Factory… Still bad! The host takes us to a table and I get my ass halfway into the seat before I hear this guy requesting different spot. “No, this table simply will not do. As you can see, I’m on a date with a beautiful lady,” he said, gesturing toward me as the look of shock and mortification swept my face, I’m sure. The host looked at me, back at my elf-sized, morphed Mr. Potato Head and went to consult with his colleague. He came back and dragged us over to a table by a window instead. At least we had a nice view at a dirty table with sticky menus!

If you’ve never been to The Cheesecake Factory or Grand Lux Café, let me tell you that their menus are as big as a bible. They have a lot of shit. The entire time I’m trying to read this menu and get this date over with, hobbit boy is asking me a million questions. Each time I try to answer he interrupts to tell me how adorable I am. I’m called a lot of things but adorable is definitely not a descriptive word I hear often because I’m far from it. I finally stopped him and somehow managed to politely tell him to shut the fuck up for 30 seconds so I could read, we could order and I could bail. Meanwhile, I’m live-texting my friends in a group chat to try and get advice on how to ditch this guy since he had grand plans of us going bowling afterward! I agreed to dinner! That’s it, buddy! I don’t know you or like you enough to spend my entire night with you! My friends, rather than help me come up with an exit strategy, laughed at my pain and begged for more updates. Bitches.

Our server asks if we want drinks besides water. In my head I’m thinking, “Tequila. All of it. Bring a bottle.” He ordered a mango smoothie though and I sat there angrily sipping water. When his smoothie came he repeatedly insisted I try it. After saying, “No, thank you” twenty something times, I finally tried it so he’d shut the hell up. Then he asks if I have herpes. WHAT!? Wouldn’t that be asked PRIOR to insisting a stranger drink from your straw if you’re so concerned about it?? For the love of dogs, I KNOW this guy is a virgin now. I wasn’t entirely sure initially when I smelled him and saw his ill-fitting, stained clothing. NOW I was sure.

I think this guy has Asberger Syndrome now. When our server asks us what we want, he asked her which salmon dish he liked. Huh? She looked at me and I just shrugged. I don’t fucking know this guy. She then reads to him directly from the menu so he knew what everything was. He’s still not sure. He knows he likes one of the salmon dishes and he does not like the other. He can’t. Figure. This out. Pick one!!! Fucking pick! He finally picks one and when it gets to the table he realizes it’s NOT the one he likes so he eats only the top of the salmon and explains that he does eat anything green. I can’t. I’m done. Throwin’ in the napkin now.

“Oh, darn,” he says, after checking a message on his phone. “I’m on-call for work today and they need me to do something. Want to come to my place and watch me nerd-out before we go bowling?” Fuck no, pal. I have to get the hell out of here. Now my brain is working and I use his being 45 minutes late for our date as my out. “Oh, shoot! As fabulous as that sounds, I promised my friends I was going to meet them later. Too bad you were so late for this awesome date. Gotta go!”

He pays. We leave. He tries to kiss me. I cringe and pull away FAST. I was beyond ready for a shot and a beer. My friend who initially told me to abort this mission before I even ventured to Dave and Buster’s was bartending at my neighborhood bar, where I’ve been way too regular for way too long. I hopped in a cab and told him to speed and get me there. Before I even got to the bar this guy was texting me about another date. When you sit across from someone for over an hour and they never smile once, do you really think anything is going well enough for date #2??

When I walked (clumsily ran) into Nisei Lounge, my friend looked like an alcohol angel, bathed in the pink light from the neon sign on the cooler behind her. I made it. I was in heaven. I went through hell to get there but being there now was all that mattered.

 

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My alcohol angel

 

 

When grown men lose their shit

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I recently went on a swiping spree, as one does when she is bored on a Wednesday night. I had about 20 conversations going with different guys, which most of us know, usually go absolutely nowhere and you never meet because they all seem boring as hell. One guy took it to the next level. He asked me to meet and get drinks! I love drinks. I live for drinks. Plus, this guy had some hot abs in a couple of his profile pics. I was in.

Admittedly, I am only chatting or meeting any of these guys when the guy I actually like a lot isn’t giving me attention or making plans to see me. We aren’t exclusive…I don’t think? Who fucking knows anything these days. These other boys are just keeping me busy so I don’t psycho text my main guy. Also, I’m not putting all my eggs in one basket. Gotta keep my options open, just in case!

We plan to meet at a place between his place and mine at 7 on Saturday. Cool. Until…the guy I’m enamored with says he will meet me. All bets are off, Ab Guy! My boyfriend’s back! He texts me to confirm our plans and I tell him I had to stay late at work and I also forgot I promised my friend I’d attend his drag show. Yes, I lied! Yes, I’m an asshole! No, this was not the first time and I’m betting it won’t be the last! I asked if we could reschedule. Here was his response:

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Boy, bye!

Should I have kept the date? Yeah, probably. It’s rude to cancel last minute, I know, but shit comes up! In this dating land, you have to be flexible right? I’ve had guys reschedule dates with me and I just go with it! I don’t expect that their life is revolving around me – YET! I think I dodged a bullet with ol’ Tom here.

My First Bumble Nightmare

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Immediately after leaving my husband I started swiping. I could not WAIT to get Tinder! I wanted it my whole life! The night I moved out I sat, surrounded by my suitcases in my best friend’s condo and she and I swiped and giggled while drinking wine until the wee hours of the morn’. ( Well, until maybe 11 pm. She has an infant so bedtime is early for parents apparently.)

That night I felt free. Granted, I was homeless and without my dogs but free nonetheless! I matched with a guy who was the opposite of my type – computer engineer by day and actor by night, short guy with long, wild hair. We messaged back and forth until messaging turned to texting and that turned into late night phone calls. We finally decided to meet. He wanted to take me to a “fancy” restaurant which was his favorite place in the city. I was pumped! My first date!

That Sunday while shopping with my friend, he texted and asked if I wanted to meet at Dave and Buster’s. Dave and mother fucking Buster’s?! Not the fancy place I was expecting but I was going with it. My friend immediately insisted I abort this mission because the loser vibes instantly hit her. She’s far more perceptive than I am.

I got dressed but not overdressed and ventured to our meeting point, as awful as it seemed. The floor was sticky, children were running amuck and I felt like Zsa Zsa Gabor if she were to walk into an unkempt barn surrounded by wild chickens and pigs, flinging horse shit onto her Dior gown. I was in actual hell. “Fuck it,” I thought, “man up and do the damn thing.” So I did. I ordered a beer from the sweatiest human being I’ve ever laid eyes on. I sat and nursed that beer for 45 full fucking minutes waiting on this asshole. Just as I was leaving, I was hugged by a smelly imp. He looked like a warped version of his pictures. He looked like my Mr. Potato Head after my younger siblings rearranged the eyes, nose and mouth to piss me off. My excitement for my first date waned substantially after the whole Dave and Buster’s thing but now it was drained entirely. Gone. It would never return and my head was spinning, trying to think of ways to get out of this ghastly situation. This was my first date though and I had ZERO plan here and no idea what to do.

He ordered a Sprite which was delivered to him in a bucket-sized plastic cup. He slurped it down and we made small talk. He kept smiling and touching my knee and I stared at him in horror and repeatedly moved his hand to his own knee. “Let’s get out of here and get dinner” he said. Fuck yes. The sooner we do that, the sooner I get out of here. He doesn’t have Lyft or Uber on his phone yet, he explained to me, because he just moved to the city from the suburbs six months ago. WHAT!? I didn’t even want to ask and hear an explanation of why he hasn’t taken 10 seconds to download a stupid app so I just got in the cab with him and prayed to dogs that this would all be over soon.

We arrived at our destination. Our fancy restaurant. The BEST in the city. The Cheesecake Factory.