Tag: date

The ice cream man

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After weeks of not getting enough attention from my “boyfriends” and nearly two months of having no sex, I decided it was time to swipe. Swiping used to be something I did as often as I breathed when I was newly single. After a while though, my swiping happened about as often as I mopped my floors, which was rarely.

I matched with a guy that night and we talked until after 4am. Both of us were shocked by this because we never chatted so much with people on dating apps and definitely never had so much fun doing it that we didn’t want to stop to sleep. He was also divorced, loved dogs, baseball, art and painting. He was in real estate and owned some investment properties and said he and his friends basically tried to work as little as possible all summer. (#lifegoals) Although, while my other hobbies include blogging, running and doing yoga, he was more into racing motorcycles, volunteering at PAWS and boating in his free time. And then I fell in love… (But seriously, what the hell is the deal with all these guys on Tinder and Bumble who have boats and why do I match with all of them? I must smell like Lake Michigan and they’re instantly attracted. Maybe…?) Everything about him seemed perfect until he called himself the Hugh Hefner of real estate and said he was surrounded by beautiful buildings instead of beautiful women. I gave him a pass on this lame ass comment because of the regular volunteering at PAWS.

A week went by and we chatted regularly, most often until close to 5am. One night around 3am, we both wanted tacos and ice cream. He lived nearby and told me to meet him at 7-11. He honestly asked me to walk 15 minutes to 7-11…at 3am…for some fuckin’ Ben & Jerry’s. Although the Pistachio Pistachio was screaming my name for all of Lakeview to hear, I opted to stay in my bed. This is when he tells me he already hopped in his Range Rover to drive (1/2 a block) to the convenience store to get ice cream. Instead of picking me up to get some or buying some for me and dropping it off, he took pictures of the icy pints of cookie dough and pistachio and sent them to me and told me he’d save my ice cream at his place for whenever I come over. Well isn’t that some bullshit??

A few days later after making plans to go check out the Navy Pier fireworks with one of my “boyfriends”, the plans fell through so I texted the ice cream man to see what he was up to. He invited me to meet him and some friends at Diversey Yacht Club. I walked over there after work and drank tequila cocktails and ate M&M’s with him and his friends. All they did was talk shit to each other and laugh so hard their faces and stomachs hurt. Naturally, I fit right in and loved them. I still swear his best friend and I were separated at birth. She’s brutally honest and blunt and incredibly foul-mouthed. He had the best laugh though. The kind of laugh that you know is genuine. It starts with a smile that stretches wider than you’d think was possible and makes you close your eyes so tightly. It’s accompanied by a loud sound that can only come from deep in your belly and the laugh ends with a long sigh while you wipe away tears and lean forward, clutching your stomach. He had that kind of laugh. All night.

Finally someone suggested a late-night boat cruise. The water and weather were perfect for the first 20 minutes. On our way back, the winds changed and buckets of water were being poured on us while we slid and bounced around the back of the boat. When we came back to the dock, he disappeared for a long time and his friends asked me if I wanted to do a little bump. Who am I to turn down free coke? It would have been rude of me. I graciously accepted, put my soaking hair into a bun and put on someone’s dry hoodie and we all wiped the seats and tables down with towels so we could sit and hang out again. When he came back, he and I snuggled up under a blanket and all of us had another drink and talked on the back of the boat for a couple more hours. He and I were both yawning and then had a mini tickle fight to wake up a bit. Everyone else had enough blow in their systems to party all night, I’m sure.

I had to work in the morning and he offered to drive me home. I said goodbye to people I expected would be my life-long best friends forever. We all hugged and said we were looking forward to hanging out again soon and the ice cream man walked with me to his Range Rover, he opened the door for me and I hopped in. He took me to my place, hugged me goodbye and waited until I got inside. After I showered the dirty lake water off of my body and out of my hair, I texted him to say thanks for everything and of course, sarcastically tell him how boring he was. He responded with, “lol I’m fucking awesome and you know it. tonight was definitely a blast.”

What could have been a boring Wednesday night in, ended up being an unexpected, fun-filled adventure with great people and a guy that I could really like. Nights like that are what summers are all about. Spontaneity, fun, laughs. The next day I had a cancellation at work and still wanted that fucking ice cream. Since I knew he rarely worked and he also lived down the street from my salon, I texted to see if he wanted to check out the new gelato spot on Southport. No response. I assumed he must be busy actually working or he was on the boat. Either way he normally replied right away but I didn’t worry about it. I went to the French bakery with my friend and got myself a macaroon instead. Later that night I texted him while I was (actually) Netflixing and chillin’. Hours later, still no response.

I could have just let it go like that but I didn’t want to. How hard is it to just say you aren’t interested in someone? How hard is it to just reply to a fucking text? Not hard at all. I let him know those things and told him ignoring someone is rude (Why do I have to tell so many people this??) and I would have appreciated a little communication since we’re grown adults. I thanked him again for everything and wished him luck in the shitty world of dating and thanked him also for reminding me that I should give up on it. If guys were ice cream, Baskin Robbins doesn’t even have enough flavors for me. I think I’ve gone through all 31 and every last one sucks. I’d rather die a born-again virgin before I swipe again and meet another guy.

 

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.

 

 

The Painfully Boring guy

swipingmylifeaway2 Comments

At this point I can’t count the number of dates I’ve been on this year. It got to the point where I stopped calling them dates all together. This was business. These were meetings. I kept my two drink maximum rule and managed at one point to meet 7 guys in 4 days. You think I’d be burned out. This had become a second full-time job. I wasn’t burned out yet though. I loved meeting all these weirdos. Some were cute, fun or nice but there was nothing there between us. They’d make good friends but they weren’t boyfriend-material. One of these guys was Cary.

As soon as I walked in and saw him I knew this was the first and last time we’d meet. Cary was a tricky little bastard. All of his pictures were from when he still had hair. He now carefully places the few bits of fuzz he has left in a way that, from a distance, makes it look like he still has thick and luxurious locks. Up close though it just looks like a tiny, thin black veil floating about an inch and a half above his scalp. It’s hairsprayed to hell and that shit ain’t movin’. As a hairdresser, I could fix this mess. I could help him out here. I don’t want to though. I don’t want to have to fix or change things about someone. Been there, done that. Never again.

Cary and I ordered a beer and got this meeting started. I’m asking all the questions to get the weirdness out of Cary and I’m getting nothing. All he does is smile and nod at everything I say and basically repeats my answers to questions that I ask him. He’s eager to please and say all the right things but I don’t think he’s ever had one original thought or idea in his life. One of my hobbies is painting so all of a sudden Cary LOOOOVES painting. When was the last time Cary painted? When he was in elementary school. I enjoy running and doing yoga and lifting weights. I can tell by looking at Cary he’s never worked out a day in is life but I ask anyway. Cary LOOOOVES working out too but claims he just doesn’t have the time lately.  I have two dogs and wish I could have 48 more. Cary LOOOOVES dogs too. I asked Cary if he had any pets. He does not and never has.

I also could not stand sitting there listening to him go through the entire beer list with the server to figure out what he wanted to drink. The entire time he mispronounced every fucking one of them and in the end he just told her to pick one for him. He’s like a little spineless jellyfish. He’s the kind of guy who would probably make a great husband one day if you want to constantly boss someone around who will do anything you say with a smile on their face. He’d be like a slave and a puppy and husband in one.

I could feel my eyes getting heavy as he was literally boring me to sleep. I’ve never sucked down two Daisy Cutters that fast in my life.  We walked out together, waited for our Lyft or Uber drivers, hugged and left. The next day I got a message from him on the app. He wants to “take our relationship to the next level”. I obviously did not want that. After that night I learned how much I appreciated people with opinions and hobbies and backbones. Poor Cary. I’d tear him apart. There’s no way he could handle someone like me. I could see him with a girl who thoroughly enjoys tea and practices needlepoint on a Saturday night or has a collection of stamps. She will dress like a librarian in the 80’s and not wear makeup. She will wear orthopedic shoes because she thinks they’re cute, not because she actually needs them. She’ll be obsessed with cats and have a cat-themed apartment. She’ll even have cat salt and pepper shakers. Their idea of a good time will be having a staring contest for hours. They’ll hold hands but they won’t have sex because neither of them ever have done it and they’re both too timid to initiate it. Holy shit! Sorry…I can just envision her perfectly. Basically what he needs is NOT me.

How do I kindly tell Cary that our relationship will stay on this level and not progress any further? I could ignore him and ghost him like most people do but I have respect for other people and would never do something that cruel. I could describe to him (in detail) who I think his perfect match is but I’m not sure he’d be receptive to me offering to help find her for him. I opted to just tell him I’m not interested. I thought about how to say it for a couple hours and then I responded. I told him I had fun the night before (ok, I lied a little) and although I think he’d be a good friend, I wasn’t interested in dating him. Then I held my breath and waited to see what would happen next. Was he going to have an epic meltdown on me? Was he going to cuss me out and tell me what a bitch I am? Nope. Cary actually thanked me. Despite the fact that he said he was disappointed, he wanted to thank me for actually responding to him to tell him how I felt. We wished each other luck finding someone relationship-worthy and unmatched. That was not nearly as painful as I expected and it was far more enjoyable than our entire date the night before! I really hope Cary finds someone to boss him around soon.

The Underemployed One

swipingmylifeaway6 Comments

It’s Sunday morning and I’m doing the 30-something’s Walk-of-Shame from my Saturday night guy’s place, which is Ubering home, hung over, while texting my friends about the previous night. That’s when I get a Bumble message from a guy asking if I was interested in getting some brunch. Yes. Yes, yes, yes. The answer is always YES to brunch. We agree to meet at a brunch place my friend manages, as I’ve repeatedly promised to come check her new spot out and fail every time. I raced home to take care of the dogs and get cleaned up. When I’m almost there he texts to let me know there is an hour wait so he’s at the restaurant next door having a drink. It’s 11am. He’s drinking. We’re off to a good start.

I get there with my perfectly polished ponytail, giant sunglasses and pale yellow sundress that my friend Nikki just gave me, attempting my best (somewhat hung over, ‘I hope I don’t still smell like sex’) Audrey Hepburn look. I recognize him immediately from checking out his photos, even though it was clear his photos were quite old and he was a bit heftier than he was when they were taken. We hug and I order champagne; my drink for summer 2017. Hey, I’m celebrating being alive this summer! We get down to chatting and I notice he’s wearing very expensive, trendy, yet classic clothing but his eyes were glazed over and bloodshot. His shirt was unbuttoned a bit too far and his hair was wild. I asked how his night was and he told me he went to Cuvee, an upscale nightclub, the night before with friends. Despite having delayed responses to any of my questions, he responded and asked questions as well so I wasn’t leading the entire conversation. Something still seemed off about him but I guessed it was just his hang over.

On his profile he said he was a beverage director at a nice hotel. I asked him how he liked that job and he tells me he was fired from that place a year ago. Why the fuck does it still say it on your profile then, guy!? So I asked what he does now and why he was fired. He goes on to say he was fired for being “kind of an asshole and a drug addict”. LOVELY! He said he talked down to his staff and he didn’t realize other people didn’t use cocaine the same way he did. He basically did it all day and all night, in front of his coworkers and bosses, and was shocked that it was an issue when they brought it up to him and dismissed him from his role in the company. Now he claims to be underemployed, as he works as a bartender two nights a week at two different bars. This cocaine habit now explains his delayed responses and blood-shot eyes. This dude is still awake from partying last night!

Cocaine

I knew I wasn’t attracted to him but we were here already and I was hungry. After almost an hour, I asked if he wanted to check on our table status next door at my friend’s brunch restaurant. He then tells me he never put our names in so we had just been sitting around the whole time waiting for nothing. This guy needs an adult. I run over, climb over 30 hungry people who are sitting around, waiting for their names to be called. I pull the dick move of name-dropping at the host stand and hug my friend Sarah after the hostesses get her attention. She was running around like a mad woman but told me there are seats that will be available at the bar. I run over to tell the underemployed guy to drag him over before he orders another cocktail.

When I came back and told him, he then lets me know that he has no cards and no cash so if I could cover everything today, he could Venmo me or get me next time. I’m getting fucking PLAYED right now!! This broke-ass scammer got me! I ask why he wanted to invite me to brunch if he has no money but he assures me he has some in the bank, he just left his debit card at the nightclub last night. You’re a 30-something year old man who only has one card to his name and you leave it somewhere and invite a girl out?? What’s WRONG with you? Where did you go wrong in life? Shit, where did I go wrong in life if these are the guys I’m meeting!? I pay and we go next door, order food and a drink and continue on this “date”. I talked to my friend and the bartender now more than I talked to this guy. He picked at a salad and slowly sipped a bloody Mary while I crushed some eggs and veggies and two champagne cocktails.

We decide it’s time to go since I hate him and he has to actually go to one of his jobs soon. My friend kindly discounts half of our bill, I pay again and then decide to run to the restroom before we walk out. Before I go, he tells me to close my eyes and hold out my hand. I fear something bad will happen but I look around and realize we are elbow to elbow with people and there are hundreds of people there. What’s the worst he could do? I did as he asked and when I opened my eyes I saw a big bag of white powder in my palm. I gasped and clenched my fist, shoving the bag back in his hand. “What?”, he said, “Do a couple bumps in the bathroom.” Then he winked. Barf. It is 12:30pm on a Sunday, sir! And we are dining at a fine, family restaurant, where my friend is the manager! What’s wrong with you?

We leave and, unfortunately, have to walk the same direction to get to our destinations. While we walk, he repeatedly pulls this bag out to do bumps off of his key. Once he did it in front of a church. Once he did it in front of a playground, as a mother pushing a double-wide stroller walked by. We’re a block away from his job when he ducks into an alley and asks me to wait a minute. I glance over after a few seconds to catch him pissing behind a dumpster, cocaine in-hand. He zips up and we continue this romantic stroll to his job, where he leans toward me, open-mouthed, tongue-first. I put both arms between us, on his chest and push away. “K, this was fun! Talk to you later!”, I blurted out. I’m a fucking liar. Once again he tells me, “I’ll Venmo you!” and I briskly walked on. No look of longing as I left. No eye contact at all actually. I stared at the ground and moved my legs as fast as a girl can in wedge sandals. I’ll never forget you, Venmo guy.

cocaine face.jpg

Does that have calories? I don’t eat calories.

swipingmylifeaway1 Comment

When I ditched the ex I also moved and left everything I owned behind. It was stressful, whether I knew it at the time or not. When I’m stressed, I have ZERO appetite. I didn’t want to eat anything at all for two months. I only ate Dunkin’ Donuts Wakeup Wraps because I knew I had to eat something to stay alive. Those were fast, cheap and easy, much like myself. I dropped a lot of weight quickly and had friends asking me to eat more because I didn’t look well. I fucking loved it. I took more naked selfies in these two months than I ever had in my life. The more my ribs protruded, the happier I felt. It was not sustainable though. It was a wakeup call when I had two weeks of copper-colored urine with blood in it. I was killing myself. Quickly. I had to put more in my body than Dunkin’ and booze.

Inevitably, I gained weight back when I started taking better care of myself and consuming more than 300 calories in food a day. I also started working out again and developed a routine and (relatively) good habits. I became much more healthy physically and emotionally. I also rediscovered Reece’s cups which might not have been a good thing. Although I had been dating the entire time, it wasn’t until I got healthy again that I could say I was actually ready to be dating. My confidence now though was high with my body changing that way. With my ex-husband, I never felt confident about my body. I never felt skinny enough, toned enough or sexy enough. I couldn’t even tell if he was attracted to me physically at all. There was no indication that he was since he rarely looked at me, complimented me even less and we stopped having sex all together.

Everyone has some insecurities when dating but for women, body and appearance are the biggest worries. There is so much pressure to look a certain way and it’s overwhelming and impacts us in a big way. Self-confidence wanes and negative thoughts about ourselves creep in. Everyone is worried that a potential partner will look at us the same way we look at ourselves and get hyper-critical. They won’t like how our thighs touch. They will think the little bulge over our bra is disgusting. They’ll hate the peach fuzz on our cheeks. We look at ourselves under a microscope and panic at any imperfection. Even when I was at my smallest size, there were still things I disliked about my appearance. I was at my ideal weight but was still picking myself apart in other ways. I needed bigger boobs. I needed Botox. My skin was too pale. My belly button was ugly.

I know I’ll never be completely satisfied with how I look but I’ve been actively trying to change my negative mindset in regards to my appearance. Every time I judge myself too harshly, I force myself to look at pictures of people who are truly fat and ugly so I stop throwing myself a pity party. Someone always has it worse than we do, am I right? RELAX! I’m kidding. All we can do is take care of ourselves. Go for walks, eat well, workout, overindulge once in a while instead of everyday. We’ll probably never be our own idea of perfect but we have to accept that. Someone probably sees us and thinks we’re their idea of perfect, so let it go. Your wrinkles are fine. That belly roll is cute. Your thighs look like they’re trying to escape from your jeans? Fuckin’ work it. Show it off. People will always talk shit no matter what. They judge no matter what. When it comes to dating, you won’t always be everyone’s favorite flavor but you will be to some.

When you wanted to be the dumper but end up being the dumpee

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I obviously was not a big fan of the guy who looked like a goldfish but I continued to see him when I was bored. He always showed up when I told him to and was a really good time when he wasn’t being annoying. It helped that he liked to always tell me that I look like the woman who plays the role of Wonder Woman in the new movie that was coming out. After our first week of hanging out, he sent me a text saying, “Happy one week anniversary!” I gagged. We got into a fight during that week too because he says really stupid things and interrupts people incessantly so I tell him to shut up and stop being a rude toddler.  He said that if we can get through that, we can get through anything.

He was also not a fan of the fact that I knew someone everywhere we went. He got jealous when I would talk to people I saw in public and started to resent me, I think. This lead to him picking on me for anything I said or did and he laughed about it when I got mad at him. When I asked him why he enjoyed pushing my buttons so much, he said I was just a spoiled princess who was used to everyone giving me everything I want and no one ever calls me out on my shit so he was going to continue to basically be a total dick.

Excuse me, Nemo!? I’ve worked my ass off for everything my whole life and never expect things from other people. No one calls me out on my shit because there’s no shit to call me out on! I can be a little (a lot) bossy sometimes but only when I need to be. Most of the time I get whatever I want from subtle manipulation so the bossiness doesn’t have to come out! I’m not a princess at all, either. How insulting! I’m a fucking goddess, dickwad.

I already planned to dump him that weekend when he would inevitably ask to see me. I would have done it sooner but I was in the middle of a 5 day drinking bender so it would have to wait. (Hey, it’s summer in Chicago and I’m single for the first time in years. I’m having fun! Don’t be a judgmental prick.) Saturday comes and he, of course, wanted to hang out when I got out of work. He spent the day on a boat with friends and told me he would meet me after he got cleaned up. I didn’t have to tell him where I was because after just a short time of knowing me, he assumed I’d be at my neighborhood bar since I didn’t have any plans. He assumed correctly.

By the time he showed up I was already hammered. I was not just drunk but straight up wasted. That’s what happens when you’re at the end of a 5 day bender, apparently. It doesn’t take much to get you there when you’re body is probably made up of about 90% alcohol at this point. Someone recently described this to me as the shampoo effect. A post in Urban Dictionary very eloquently explains this phenomenon. The fifth entry is my favorite.

http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=shampoo+effecthttp://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=shampoo+effect

My friend Alyssa met me as well and she had to explain the night to me a few days later since after they showed up, I remember nothing besides waking up on my toilet in the middle of the night with my phone in my hand. We apparently went to two other bars and Jon just kept picking fights with us and she and I did a lot of eye-rolling and had plans to ditch him. He started an argument about whether there were stray cats in the city of Chicago or not. (He doesn’t think they exist.) I think the topic was brought up because of  Alyssa’s bewilderment over pigeons who only have one leg and why they end up that way, but I’m not entirely sure. Either way, what a fucking stupid thing to argue over! Our plans to ditch him ended in failure. Somehow Alyssa ditched us instead and he ended up at my apartment around the corner.

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The only goldfish we like are our crackers.

 

When I woke up from my toilet nap, I shot him a text asking what the hell happened the night before and where he went. He explained to me that I irritated him because he knew I was in the bathroom ignoring him and he was positive I was not sleeping. So he left me in there and didn’t try to find out what’s going on!? Why the hell would anyone hide out in their own bathroom? I could have been dying! Maybe I was choking on my own vomit! Maybe I drowned! He just left me there to die like Elvis! Wonderful…Could you imagine how mortified you’d be in your casket after reading your obituary??

Just as I started typing my crushing dump message, he texts me to say we shouldn’t hang out anymore because together we are “explosive”. He goes on to tell me I’m like a hurricane or firecracker, and not in a good way. Also, I’m “terrifying” to him. I’m absolutely flattered by all of this but am PISSED I didn’t send my message first! It’s so unsatisfying when you’re looking forward to something so much and it’s taken from you in an instant! Either way it’s done though. I tell him good luck and to let me know if he ever wants me to destroy him in Pac-Man or Skee Ball again like I did on our first date. AS disappointed as I was for not getting to do the dumping, I never had to see Flounder again and that was a good thing.

(Side note: Does anyone else think it’s hilarious that I said “dump”, “pissed” and “explosive” in a story in which I slept on a toilet?? Literal tears are streaming down my face from laughing so hard. Also, I have a clogged tear duct right now so that might be why but, I still can’t stop laughing. Also, I swear I only peed before taking my toilet nap.)