Tag: love

G.I. Joe aka Tristan the Christian

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After my painful first date with the elf who smelled like an onion and a wet dog, I’m surprised I ever kept swiping right and accepting date offers. As always though, I picked myself back up and moved on in search of more punishment for whatever horrible thing I must have done in a past life. I made plans to meet a guy that Friday who looked like my kind of douchebag. He was the kind of guy who definitely wore Affliction brand clothing when that shit was popular. He liked going to clubs and dancing and I could tell from his pictures he was ripped like a Greek god. This year that’s all I was looking for anyway; fun guys with hot bods. I didn’t want to fall in love with anyone.

Our plans to meet and get ice cream, naturally turned into us just meeting at a bar for drinks. Fine with me. He made me laugh a ton but I remember thinking he looked like he had been hit in the face a LOT and he was holding on to about 5 hairs on the top of his head when he needed to give up and just shave that shit. He wore too much cologne which normally I’d find unattractive but after the smelly guy, I didn’t mind this.

The date was going ridiculously well so I had to do something to ruin it. I said to him, “Ok, so far this is the complete opposite of my first Bumble date. There’s got to be something wrong with you. Are you a murderer? A Jesus freak? A Trump supporter?” I could tell by the silence and look on his face that I said something wrong. It turns out he’s ALL of those things. It was then that I noticed all the religious tattoos and the cross on his necklace. Then he goes on to tell me how great of a president Trump is going to be. Lastly, he says he’s in the Special Ops in the military so killing people is not something he’s opposed to. Fucking wonderful. We could not be more different as I’m as liberal, atheist, feminist and anti-violence as they come.

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‘Merica

We both said we had plans with friends later that night so we had two drinks each and hugged goodbye to get into our Ubers. I saw him checking out my butt when I walked away so I was sure there would be a second date despite our huge differences. Like I said, I wasn’t looking to fall in love with anyone this summer. I just wanted to have fun.

We went on to talk to each other everyday over the next month. Sometimes we’d be on the phone for four hours, other times we were texting all night long and sending each other pictures and videos. The only days we didn’t talk were when he had to leave town for an operation. I met his friends and he met some of mine. We hung at least once or twice a week over the next 5 weeks. I stopped swiping and meeting guys during this time. I was so into him. It was freaking me out since the last thing I wanted was a serious boyfriend, especially one whose second favorite president behind Trump is George W. Bush. I liked this guy though and also did not how I was supposed to act and what I should expect in dating.

During my weeks with Tristan the Christian, we never had sex. We had two nights of half naked making out but no D in the V. I assumed he wanted our first time together to be really special and beautiful. I envisioned candles lit all over the room and rose petals leading to the bed. He’d pick me up and passionately but gently kiss me before lying me down in his bed next to a giant bible and a few of his guns. Ew, just kidding. I just assumed he had some erectile issues and I really just didn’t want to ask him about it. Apparently all this time heĀ  had been dropping (very) subtle hints about his penis size and one night he spelled it all out for me via text. G.I. Joe had a foot-long penis and didn’t want to scare me off with it right away. This I had to see to believe so, obviously, I requested dick pics. Sure as shit, that thing went down to his knee and curved a bit to the right. I was excited. I was scared. I was curious. I also had to show all of my friends these pics immediately.

I’m not sure if this was a good thing or not but I never got to experience this weapon of mass destruction. Shortly after this picture exchange, things seemed normal between us. For the next few days we talked and made plans to make plans for the weekend. Then I didn’t hear from him for five days. I tried to not be a psycho and assume he hated my guts or died. I told myself he had an operation to go on so could not message me. Saturday night I was out causing trouble and dancing like a maniac in River North with my coworkers. The girls were ready to go to another bar or club so I messaged G.I. Joe with the twelve incher to see where he and his friends were, assuming they were out drinking and dancing at Mercer if he was back from the operation that I made up in my head. “Mercer?” was the last text I ever sent him. He never replied.

I got fucking ghosted. How!? Things were going so well! There was no indication that anything was wrong. It all seemed great! So far I was definitely not a fan of online dating. Everyone I had met was awful in their own ways and I was shocked by things on a regular basis. How is it possible for people to have no respect for others or decency at all? Not responding to a text is beyond rude. Leading someone on for over a month and then never speaking to them again is just a total dick move. Online dating allows people to have so many options that we stop seeing people as human beings. Relationships are shallow and short-lived. Everyone is disposable because you can just match with a new person whenever you want. I wish the respect for others didn’t die when online dating gained momentum and popularity. How do people not have the balls to send a text or maybe sit down and talk to someone to tell them how they feel? As much as I dreaded it, I was back to swiping my life away in no time. On to the next one! It wasn’t until after all this happened, I realized who he looked like. He was like Sloth from The Goonies with a hot body. That just added insult to injury…

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The Underemployed One

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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.

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

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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.Ā  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 ofĀ  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.)

Jesus, take the wheel…

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Surprisingly, I was dateless on a Thursday night, so I went to my neighborhood bar for a drink after work. It was charity night with guest bartenders which sounds great but I usually dread it because I prefer my dive bar to be empty besides a handful of my closest alcoholic friends who are also regulars. I spotted two of them this night and plopped my ass right beside them. Bartender Doug slid my drink down before I even got settled and the guys and I started talking. Babes with Blades Theater Company was throwing the event for the night and had temporary tattoos for us to fuck around with. We made friends with Annie who was guest bartending and she and I talked about an old dive called the Oasis in Rogers Park and the badass woman named GiGi who has worked there for decades. One drink turns to two drinks and a shot and the boys and I chat back and forth about online dating while encouraging Annie to drink more Malort. We notice our beloved dive bar now is lacking their gorgeous 100 bottle Malort shrine and theyā€™ve replaced it with a 20 bottle mystery shot shelf. (Not quite as impressive, Pat! Still cool though.) 20170526_235647167_iOS.jpg

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Vik asks us which bottle appeals to us most based on appearance and number. All of the bottles are covered in brown paper bags and numbered 1-20. Immediately I compare it to online dating. I tell them itā€™s similar to all of the dating apps because you have to just pick a random and hope for the best. Youā€™re going in blind really. All you know is youā€™re not picking the short, fat bottle because it looks dangerous, just like youā€™re not picking the short, fat guy because EW. We come up with our own ideas for dating apps that we think would be better than Tinder and Bumble and all the others. ā€œJesus Take the Wheelā€ was the name Vik gave to our app idea that youā€™re not allowed to swipe on at all. Itā€™s guided and directed by your friends and family only. We plan to market that one in the Bible Belt first, of course. Iā€™m not expecting that one to do as well in Chicago to start.

Then, Vik drops some life-changing truth on us:

Women are the gate-keepers to sex. Men are the gate-keepers to commitment.

This explains why he swipes right on everyone and waits to see which fish bite. The more chances of getting laid, the better! But heā€™s right, unless GHB is involved. (Sorry. Not funny. True though!) Women decide who they want to have a second date with usually or who they want to go on a date with in the first place. At least I do. When I left my husband I lined up dates every night. Mostly because I knew I had no idea what I was doing on dates. Iā€™ve been in non-stop relationships since I was 24 pretty much. As soon as Iā€™d lose a guy, another would steal me and keep me a while before he did something awful and we split up. I needed to practice and get good at this dating thing again. Out of all the dates Iā€™ve been on the past few months, few have ended in a second date and, obviously, fewer have ended in sex. I AM the gate-keeper!!! (Of sex, at least.) Most of the guys I had dates with wanted to see me again which means they had a strong interest in penetration as well. Duh. I controlled the outcome.

Men are the controllers of commitment and relationships though. Once youā€™ve dated for a while and youā€™re in a sexual relationship with someone, it means (usually) that the woman has decided she likes you enough to have a relationship. What it means to guys is, ā€œFuck, yeah! I bang this chick!ā€ And he probably bangs a few others as well. Guys have the ball on this one though. They decide if itā€™s a green light or red on being committed most of the time. Iā€™m currently waiting for the light to change with the guy Iā€™m dating. Itā€™s been two months. Iā€™m stuck at yellow. Iā€™m impatient though and I want to know where this is going, like yesterday!

In the meantime, Iā€™ll get the Jesus Take the Wheel app going and pray to Malort that my friends and family can choose my match better than I can if this gate-keeper of commitment gives me the red light.

Why not meet a guy the old-fashioned way?

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I’ve been asked multiple times why I’m on dating apps instead of just waiting around to meet a guy the “old-fashioned way”. First of all, what’s that? What exactly is the old-fashioned way? How old-fashioned are we talking? You want my parents to arrange my marriage to a strapping young lad who lives in our village and has plenty of cows and chickens? Should I let that jock from my chemistry class take me to a sock hop and then out to the diner for milkshakes? Old-fashioned for my generation is meeting a guy at a bar and drinking our faces off together all night, possibly exchanging numbers, making out or going to someone’s house to do the deed. I used to be REALLY good at meeting guys that old-fashioned way but things have changed and that doesn’t happen anymore.

Walk into most bars now and everyone is staring at a screen, whether it’s a game they’re watching on the televisions or Facebook that they’re scrolling through on their phone. Hey, maybe they’re swiping around and matching with hot babes on Tinder! Technology consumes us all and meeting men in bars is just not something that happens often because no one looks up.

The few times I recently made eye contact with a man in a bar it has gone one of two ways. He either stares at me off and on throughout the night and never makes a move or it’s the kind of guy that I accidentally locked eyes with briefly and am not attracted to whatsoever. THAT guy always approaches! That guy is also pushy and gross and doesn’t get subtle or obvious hints. He usually is also the guy who will still insist you can be friends after you lie and tell him you have a boyfriend.

So why the off and on eye contact and no moves? Some people say that maybe the girl should make the move instead. While I used to agree, after dating for the past few months I feel like it’s the girl who puts forth all the effort now. I’m sick of it! I want to see that a guy has some balls and isn’t scared to approach me and initiate conversation. I feel like men have developed this strong fear of rejection in face to face interaction but can’t wait to send you a picture of their semi flaccid penis over a dating app! (Side note here: Does that ever work for you guys?? Girls, how often do you get pumped over a stranger sending his wiener to you?! Can this stop being a thing that guys do? For the love of dogs and wine, please??)

Now for everyone insisting I’m “pretty enough” that I don’t “need” to be on these apps and should meet someone the old-fashioned way, first explain to me what that means to you. Second, go out there and try to meet a potential love interest face to face. I know I’ve never met a guy at Whole Foods or the gym! And lastly, try and take everyone’s phones away at a bar so they’re forced to interact with other humans and tell me how well that works for you. I’ve tried it and I was immediately not well-liked. To everyone else who is trying to figure out this modern dating world, good luck! Keep swiping even if it leads nowhere 99%Ā  of the time!