Month: August 2017

Reel big fish

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Sometimes you’re in the dating sea, practically choking on the available fish to date and sometimes you’re in the dating desert, searching for an oasis. When you’re swimming in dates and have a few guys constantly contacting you, who all seem to be interesting and attractive, you’re on top of the world. Very suddenly though, those things can all change. That’s when the knights in shining armor turn into the losers in aluminum foil and you actively avoid them at all costs. It happens suddenly with no reason.

This is when you take a step back and reevaluate your life choices. Or maybe just your dating choices. I find that I’m constantly drawn to similar types of men. My sister says I like “bad boys”. I don’t see them as bad. I see them as exciting, interesting, eccentric, or mysterious. Then when I get to know them better, I see them as assholes, losers, scumbags and douchebags.

How the hell do you break the cycle though? I recently met a guy who is the polar opposite of anyone I ever date but he is exactly what I want in a guy. Definitely the knight in shining armour in a world of trolls. He’s kind and friendly, open-minded, liberal, a feminist, a good cook, well-educated, good looking, attentive, generous, thoughtful and already has a child so there’s no pressure on me to get knocked up, get fat and go through the hell of child birth. What’s the problem then? It’s all too soon after leaving my ex husband, first of all. I don’t want the perfect guy right now. I want to date everyone who is wrong for me and do everything that is bad for me. This guy is life-partner material. I have to go through several more months of self-destruction and regressing to my early 20’s before I’m ready for him. Why did I have to meet him now??

Secondly, he’s too nice and it’s too easy. He already worships the ground I walk on. There is no challenge at all. He thinks I’m beautiful and smart and the strongest woman he’s ever met. All of this is true, by the way. I swear he’s not blind and he absolutely is entirely sane. I don’t know how he got these ideas in his head. I swear I didn’t plant them. He’s my biggest cheerleader through the drama of my divorce. He asks me questions about what’s going on all the time which most people actively avoid. No one wants to hear about it because it makes them uncomfortable. Not too many guys can hear you say that your soon-to-be ex-husband strangled you until you passed out and broke another woman’s legs and then still carry on a conversation about the situation. Typically I find people say how sorry they are to hear that and abruptly change the topic of conversation. I haven’t scared him off with the horror stories or with the idea that my ex-husband might be lurking in the bushes while we hang out, ready to attack and murder both of us. Go ahead and laugh, but that’s a very likely scenario.

Why do I have such a hard time letting this nice guy in though? My only guess, besides it being too soon, is that there is no challenge. I don’t need someone to worship me. I need someone to challenge me and introduce me to new things and experiences. I don’t need someone to rely on me to be the guide and make all of the decisions. There needs to be a balance and a sharing of those responsibilities. Although having someone adore you is great, having someone who adores you and can still call you out on your shit and ask you questions that make you think a little more deeply, introduce you to new things and challenge you, would be more desirable to me.

My sister is going to want to kick my ass over this and she might tell me I’m stupid for not going for this guy 110%. That’s fine. She might be right. We’ll see one of these days. For now, I’ll keep him at arm’s length while I swim around in the dating sea. One fish, two fish, perfect fish, douchefish.

 

 

 

Bobcat Returns

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If you told me I’d see this guy again after he kicked me out of his hotel room, I’d tell you you’re out of your mind. For some reason we continued texting each other for the next month almost every single day. I finally agreed to hang out with him again with the promise that he wouldn’t do anything stupid to fuck it up. We decided to meet for dinner the next Friday. He made reservations for 10pm. I work Saturday mornings and told him it wouldn’t work. He fucked it up. We tried again later and met up at a rooftop before heading to a street festival. I warned the hostesses when I walked in that I might storm out in a few minutes if he did something to piss me off. Luckily, that didn’t happen. We actually had a lot of fun.

After a drink or two, he asked me about my blog, which he had done before via text and I thought it was odd. I asked why he was so interested in my blog and he laughed for a second and then told me that he reads it. He then explained to me that when I posted something on Snapchat about it, he charged a separate phone so he could replay the snap, take a picture of it, look up the blog online, start a new email account and become a follower. That’s some next level sneaky, stalker ass shit and I thought it was awesome. I like this creep. If he read all the shit I posted about him and still wants to talk to me and hang out, there is probably something wrong with him but I don’t even care. There are lots of things wrong with him but that’s what makes him interesting. He also has an idea for a YouTube channel so I can be like Jenna Marbles or Nicole Arbour. He has a great plan for a TV show called Ghost Busters where I crash dates of people who have ghosted other people and call them out on it. Brilliant. Weird but brilliant. His pitch to me went like this:

When you get ghosted, who you gonna call? Erin and her crackpot team of degenerates have women who get ghosted contact you. You (and me, if you want my PI help), track down the guy, preferably when he’s on a date with the next girl he swiped right with, and we confront him and ask why he ghosted her!

We still have some kinks to work out but I’m into it.

We left the rooftop and I reassured the hostesses that he didn’t totally suck before we hopped in a cab to head to the fest. We drank some beers and took an Adderall while listening to music. He dared me to get a picture with some eccentric older gentleman. Since I can’t say no to a dare, I started dancing with this guy and asked if we could take a picture together. He tells me he’s Jimmy Buffett and I almost believed him. It turns out, his name is Rick and he has a large collection of hats that are all from Miami. Interesting. The Bobcat and I hung out near him while listening to 16 Candles for a while.

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When the festival was over, we headed over to Concrete Cowboy for another drink. It was there that The Bobcat told me he had molly. The last time I did molly, I was in college. This was my summer of ‘YES’ though so I was down. I’ve said yes to everything since I left my ex, besides offers from friends to break his legs or have him killed. Always say no to violence and say ‘hell motherfucking yeah’ to everything else.

We headed downstairs to Spybar and took over a table in the back corner that was occupied by a very intoxicated man named Tony who could barely sit up. He ended up sleeping in the corner while we hung out. After becoming friends with the bartenders, we did a couple shots. This is where my memories are all a blur. I don’t know how much time went by. I don’t know what I said or who I was talking to. At one point I was calling Bobcat and my friend who owns the club while they were standing right in front of me. I knew when I was talking I wasn’t making any sense and that just made me laugh. Finally we decided to get out of there. Probably for the best since by the end of the night, I had the bartenders hating me.

In our Uber back to his place, the driver offered us beers which he was charging $5 for. Of course we bought them. When we got back, we apparently made out in his kitchen. I also apparently answered my phone at 5:30am and talked to my friend for a few minutes while she stood in the alley behind my house requesting that I bring her alley wine. I explained to her that I was at a gentleman caller’s house and was unable to deliver. Finally I got into his bed and immediately, when I fell into it, became one with it and started to pass out. Despite his attempt to be romantic with wine and cocaine, I pushed him away and passed out.

I woke up hours later, spread out like a starfish in his bed and was so confused. I went into his living room and found him and his dogs hanging out on the couch. I went with my typical M.O. and bolted right away. I felt like death and needed a shower. Throughout the day he helped me piece our night together because his memory of the night was far less foggy than mine.

I still talk to him everyday whether it’s geeky shit about trading cryptocurrency or talking about our pending divorces. For some reason I tell this guy more than I tell my closest friends. Maybe it’s because he seems more interested in the random garbage I have to say than my friends do. I texted him WHILE getting my IUD put in. He’s completely honest which is refreshing and tells the truth brutally with no sugar-coating. Not a lot of people are like that but I am that way too so it’s refreshing. Have I forgiven him for kicking me out of the hotel room that night? Yeah, but I’m not forgetting about it. That shit was awful and hilarious and I’ll bring it up every chance I get it.

People oftentimes come into your life for a reason. You don’t know what the reason is right away but you learn eventually. Why do I willingly spend time with someone who admits to cheating on his soon-to-be ex-wife repeatedly? Why does he hang out with me still, knowing that my soon-to-be ex-husband is dangerous and puts every woman he’s met in the hospital? My sister would tell me it’s because I can’t stay away from risky situations. Maybe she’s right. Life without risks seems really boring though. We’ve all got baggage and we have demons to battle. I have no idea why the Bobcat is still around but we’ll all find out eventually. The reason better not be to teach me lessons about going to random men’s hotel rooms after just meeting them.

 

 

Not a gentleman

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The title of this post could apply to the vast majority of the guys on the planet I think but I’m referencing one douche in particular. Also, if I get yelled at by one more of you fuckers for not having a new post up by Monday night like I normally do, I might slap you. I went to a wedding for two good friends of mine Sunday that had the hashtag ‘Malortrimony’. I was told I was falling asleep at Gman afterward and had to be escorted home by my friend. Classy. So I literally could not EVEN on Monday. Death by Malort. I’m back now! Better than ever, so here ya go, you animals!

I matched with Brian in early May, after I got ghosted by Tristan the Christian. In just a few hours I decided Brian was the neediest guy ever. We messaged a lot while I was at my friend’s unicorn-themed birthday party/housewarming. He told me he’s looking for a girl who will text him all the time and commit to seeing him at least once a week. Calm your tits, bro. We haven’t even met yet and most people I know can’t handle seeing me even once a month. At least once a week sounds excessive. He was sending pictures nonstop and requesting that I do the same, which I happily did.

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I didn’t find him particularly attractive now though. All of his pictures on the dating app were older which is a common trend in online dating. The pictures he was sending now were in the moment, in bright sunlight and he looked far older than in his profile pictures. He also was sending me pictures from a funeral in Iowa which was disturbing. I’ve never seen someone look so happy at a funeral. Yuck.

We met not long after matching on Coffee Meets Bagel at Murphy’s for a couple drinks. It was ok but I wasn’t that into him. He was pretty mediocre in every way possible but I was at a point in my life where I thought I should give the basic guys more of a chance. He didn’t seem like he’d be an abusive psycho or cross-dressing sex-addict, which I was used to with most exes. When we left, he put himself in a cab and let me walk home alone at 11pm, despite the fact that I lived on the way to his place. Thanks a lot, winner. Quite the thoughtful guy. I didn’t have plans to see him again ever but he was texting me daily and sometimes I get bored so I usually responded.

One night I was not getting nearly enough dating app attention and I had a rough week. I legitimately wanted to watch a movie and cuddle with someone. I couldn’t remember the last time I cuddled with someone. It had honestly been years. He lived close so I figured I’d give it a shot and see what he said. He was just getting off the train, coming home from work. He said he could be at my place in a couple minutes. I couldn’t believe that actually worked. Surely this guy thinks that something else will be happening. He’d be so disappointed when I rejected his advances. I didn’t care.

We didn’t make it more than 15 minutes into the show I turned on before we were both asleep. We woke up a few hours later and I expected him to leave. Shockingly, he moved to the bedroom with me. “Uh-oh,” I thought, “Here’s where he tries to make a move and I have to send him on his way.” We passed out within seconds. In the morning, he kissed me on the cheek and hugged me goodbye so we could both get ready for work. What planet am I on?! What year is it!? What’s happening!? I met a good guy? Maybe this guy didn’t suck so much. I couldn’t believe the ‘come over and cuddle’ thing worked.

Shortly after this, he had to go away for a couple weeks for some military stuff. It was while he was away for this that things changed and he started sending me sexual messages. They weren’t too weird or perverted at first but it didn’t take long for that to escalate. He got upset after I told him I had gone on dates with other guys since I met him. The next thing I know, this “gentleman” was requesting pictures of nipples and vaginas. I laughed it off and changed the subject every time but he became more and more persistent and angry. He started asking me very personal questions that made me uncomfortable and then obsessively talked about threesomes. He repeatedly brought up the fact that I had gone on dates with people besides him so he knew I was a whore and that’s how he was going to treat me now.

Since when do people become exclusive after meeting one another two times!? What’s wrong with meeting other people when you’re single? This guy clearly has a few screws loose and I had to distance myself ASAP. I’ve had too many guys become obsessive and angry and disrespectful in my lifetime. I can finally see the patterns now and see the red flags right away. It only took, what feels like, a thousand fucking years. I have no more time to deal with assholes who want to degrade or control women because of their own anger issues or insecurities. I have no more patience to be kind and give someone the benefit of the doubt or any more than one chance. No forgives and forgets and no regrets. I wished him luck scoring some chicks for his threesome and started swiping around for my next cuddle buddy.

Welcome to the jungle, it gets worse here every day.

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Sometimes you know it’s not a match just from a few sentences. This time I knew it wasn’t a match when his response to one simple question was a 400 page book. This guy gave me more details than necessary, far more than anyone could ever want. He might as well have thrown in his social security number and all of his banking passwords. I would have had more fun with those than I did reading his reply to, “What were you up to all weekend?” If he hadn’t unmatched with me I’d copy and paste his exact answer into this post.

This guy left his job a year ago for whatever reason and has been following Guns N Roses around the world the entire time. I shit you not. Guns N Roses. He’s seen them in 12 bajillion countries and over 988326 bajillion times. Sometimes he gets to go backstage and everything! He bought a tissue with Frank Ferrer’s balls sweat on it for 4K on eBay 5 years ago. He has a life-sized Axl Rose blowup doll in his bed at his mom’s house. I might be exaggerating (or completely lying) about some of this but he does live at his mom’s house when he’s not racing around the world to follow a washed-up old 80’s rock band.

I attempted a subject change several times but he ALWAYS brought the conversation back to Guns N Roses. I’ve been really into some things before too. I really loved The Backstreet Boys and New Kids on the Block as a kid. I had all the NKOTB Barbie dolls and slept on NKOTB sheets and pillows. (Thanks, Mom!) It’s healthy and normal to really like something but this guy was OBSESSED! I couldn’t talk to him about anything at all without him referencing Guns N Roses and still EVERY response to any simple question was several paragraphs long. Can we meet in the middle here? I like more than a one-word response but I don’t have the mother fucking time to read your Guns N Roses biography right now!

I started only answering his questions with one or two words, hoping he’d just stop talking to me after a while. Nevertheless, he persisted. After a couple days of him writing to me like he was a 13 year old girl writing in her diary, he asked if I thought we had anything in common. Since I don’t live with my mother, I am employed, I’m not wanting to S the D’s of every member of the band, and I’m not a complete lunatic, I told him no. No, sir, I do not believe we have one shred of commonality. This upset him greatly.

He went on to get very emotional over my answer. I thought he wrote long responses before but this was insane. He was typing with fervor! The paragraphs were coming faster than I could read them. He really thought he found his perfect match in me after a few days of exchanges on Bumble?? I never promised to leave my job to travel around with him in a beat up 80’s Firebird in acid-washed jeans and cut-off t-shirts while blasting ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ with our permed mullets blowing in the wind. My cold, one-word responses painted a different picture in his mind, apparently. Before I could even read all of the giant yellow boxes that kept popping up in my Bumble app, he unmatched with me. I broke his heart. Ripped it out, stomped on it and returned it bruised and mangled. I’m not his ‘One in a Million’. He told me ‘You Could Be Mine’. He’ll tell his friends he ‘Used to Love Her’. But I can’t be his ‘Rocket Queen’. Have ‘Patience’ and ‘Don’t Cry’, boy. One day you’ll meet your video vixen and you’ll travel away to ‘Paradise City’.

Boats and Oats

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It was hot and muggy as hell and I had a hangover that was debilitating. I might as well sit around in my underwear and swipe around. I was losing my energy and excitement with these apps. Now it was just a way to turn my brain off and relax. The profiles have all become boring. No one was really catching my eye anymore. I was sick of talking for weeks with people I’ve never met and then still never meeting. I was more sick of matching with guys and then never talking to them at all. What’s the point!? I matched with about 10 guys this particular night and initiated conversation with all of them. Entertain me, monkeys!

One guy stood out and we typed some bullshit back and forth for a while and then he asked me to come hang out with him on his boat. It wasn’t happening. There was no way I was putting on pants or makeup to meet this dude at 11:30pm. On his boat. Alone. No thanks, bruh. My first thought was just that I’m lazy and don’t feel like it. My next thoughts were that he wanted to drug me and drown me. Maybe he’s a roofie and rape kinda guy? I don’t know but I also didn’t want to find out. If we were going to meet it was going to now be in a well-lit, public place and I’ll have a chaperone and possibly armed bodyguards and a camera crew. Just in case. We agreed tonight was not the night so he offered the idea of breakfast in the morning as an alternative. That was a strong maybe.

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Early the next morning he messaged me again. I told him I was going for a run by the lake when I woke up so he told me the exact directions and code to get to his boat. He wanted me to come hang out, drenched in sweat on his boat at 8 in the morning?? Why? That sounds horrible for everyone. He attempted to entice me with the promise of oatmeal and black coffee. Prison food?! Come on! When you say “breakfast” to me I’m thinking eggs and potatoes with hot sauce and mimosas with no bottoms. Also, I pictured us meeting at a restaurant. Why has this guy not left his fucking boat all night? I told him that as tempting as a bowl of mush accompanied by instant black coffee sounded, I wasn’t coming. I had to work after this run anyway.

Halfway through my work day I had a quick break and checked my phone. This guy sent me a message asking if I needed a client today. “Need” a client? The question that most people ask me is, “Is there any way you can fit me in?” I’m never in need of bodies in my chair at the salon. I tell him this and he responded with a picture of his mullet. Ok, ok, it’s a fucking emergency. I get it. I tell him I can squeeze him in at the end of my day. I didn’t tell him the name of my salon so I wasn’t expecting him to actually show up. Homeboy did some research and walked in at 8:30. Everyone was confused. The receptionists had no idea anyone else was coming since I never put him on the schedule and I was just wondering how the hell he knew which salon I worked in! This guy is a stalker AND a drugger and drowner. Cool.

He was huge. Each of his arms were the size of both of my thighs. His t-shirt was too tight on his big man-boobs. He was ridiculously tan and that hair was wild. “I can’t believe you actually fucking showed up,” was exactly how I greeted him and then walked him back to my chair in the back corner of the salon to get to work on removing this mullet. He sounded like he was a long-lost member of the Jersey Shore cast when he talked, which I obviously made fun of him for. He’s got to be used to that. I gave him the same treatment I give my clients; a great haircut, shampoo and hot towel with a heaping amount of sarcasm, shit-talking and teasing. I don’t know why anyone comes back to me, honestly.

Since I’ve never had a guy from a dating app show up for a haircut for a first “date” I had no idea if I should charge him for the cut or not. I decided it felt weird so I told him the first cut is free but now he had to buy me a couple drinks now that he was presentable enough to be seen with me in public. Fair? We sat in the beer garden at Sheffield’s for a couple and he told me all about his adventures in real estate. It was riveting. I found out though that he actually lives in the suburbs most of the year but in the summer he lives on his boat. I’m a sucker for weirdos and boats though so I’m ok with all of this. He’d be fun to hang out with for the summer but once he heads back to the ‘burbs I’ll be all, “New phone, who dis??” I don’t drive and I don’t want to go to his village.

The beer garden was shutting down but I could do one more tequila and soda so I brought him to my dive. (If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, you might think I live at Nisei. I don’t think I’ve slept there but I can’t be entirely sure. I do go there a lot.) On our walk over, I tell him my friend Dave is working. I’ve known Dave for 8 years and he’s seen every loser I ever dated for longer than a month. Dave used to feed me Jameson and Miller Lites at Nick’s Uptown before they closed. Now he feeds me tequila mixed drinks, Bud Light and Malort. I’ve gotten classier. Pinkies up! Now that this guy knows how dear Dave is to me, we walk in to the bar. No one else is there but Dave is behind the bar. Immediately upon introduction, Dave tells us a long story about threesomes and lots of alcohol. The details I’ll leave out. Thanks for helping me make a great first impression with this guy I just met, Dave! I should have known better and I probably should keep Tinder and Bumble dates away from anyone I know. Forever.

Thankfully another patron came in and Dave was distracted so I could change the subject. I still can’t clearly remember what we were talking about but something I said made this guy lean back, with his double thigh-sized arms crossed in front of his big man boobs, and he smirked. “You were friends with the guy who got shot about a month ago,” he said. I just stared at him with my mouth hanging open, replaying the conversation we just had in my head to figure out what I said that would lead him to say this. I still haven’t figured it out. An acquaintance had recently been murdered and days before this, he had asked me to meet up for drinks and to catch up. Everyone who knew him admits he was a great, fun guy but he also was sketchy in “business” deals. Gambling, stealing, lying and drugs were a big part of his life so I always kept my distance. The relief I felt for not hanging out with him before he died outweighed the guilt.

My date then goes into detail about how he also knew my friend and started to talk about how and why he was killed. Conversation ends here. I wanted no part in this. I didn’t want to know details. I didn’t want to know anyone who knows more than what was in the news. He insinuated that he not only buys and sells houses and buildings but he buys and sells drugs as well and has a shit ton of people working for him on this. I’m done, oatmeal boat guy. I’d advise you to eat something besides that while you’re still a free man because I’m sure you’ll have plenty of bowls of mush in prison. I’m not going to be all Michelle Pfeiffer in Scarface for you, even though I thought I would do anything for her wardrobe. Adios, Tony Montana! I’m not sticking around to see how this all ends.