WARNING: THIS POST IS LONG AS SHIT
Dating... A word with so many evil implications. It's not fun, I think I was high on crack cocaine when I referred to it as being possible amusement for myself and others. I FUCKING hate dating... With an all consuming passion. It really is a tool of the devil to drive once sane people insane... and yes, once, long ago, my sanity used to exist. Not NO MOE. What terrible encounter did I have to make me loathe something that SHOULD normally be a shit ton of fun? Well... it wasn't an epic date from hell, it was just a mixture of nothing BUT disappointments in the dating arena.
I don't need you to be Brad Pitt... mmm Channing Tatum though... that would be goddamn delicious.. HOWEVER you need to be fucking attractive to me. I've dated some guys who are not the sexiest beasts in the world, but I genuinely liked them and in turn thought they were the most gorgeous thing ever. I can't even find a guy I can stand to be around for more than 10 minutes before ripping my hair out... Probably all a sign that men suck and I need not worry my pretty little head over dumbass males. That's besides the point, which has definitely been made painstakingly clear...
Hokay, let's examine some picky facts about me when being attracted to the opposite sex (then we will get to the wretched date that broke the camels back):
1.) GREEN or BLUE eyes are preferred over poopy brown, brown is the color of the devil's eyes and usually people that sport them really are full of goddamn shit. Not to mention the fact that my downfall from grace/sanity occurred from a brown eyed individual... D-BAGS... they are everywhere.
2.) They MUST HAVE A SENSE OF HUMOR!!! I don't mean just any sense of humor either, I mean the most assholish sense of humor imaginable. Obviously, from what you lovely readers know of me, I am not your natural chick that is delicate and will break if a penis joke is made, in fact I might even beat you to the punch and throw one out there myself. My particular sense of humor is dry as shit and like I simply love to boast about, my sarcasm knows no bounds. So I need someone who can keep up and not get offended. (I'm at work and this customer on the phone is totally blasting the LOTR soundtrack, WIN!)
3.) An ABSURD LOVE for animals must be present in my potential suitor. Animal activists is crossing the line though, because those people are nuckin futs. Most men are dog people, but that rare man who is a cat person... he is doomed.
4.) Family is very important to me and I'm gonna need family to be important in my counter part. If he hates my family, suck it the fuck up because I will drag your ass to family occasions whether you like or not. Plus with me having a kid on the way...
5.) A certain amount of class and style needs to be ingrained into the brain for someone I want to date. This is not a shallow aspect, this is fucking called I-have-to-make-my-goddamn-self-look-nice-so-the-fuck-do-you. Dressing like an old man, does not please me. And TACKY shit makes me physically cringe. I dated someone who was all about tacky shit.. he thought he was being innovative but I goddamn disagree. He built a hot tub, which would normally be awesome and sexy... if it wasn't built with PVC piping that stuck out like an atrocious skeleton and was only a HOT TUB, the literal meaning of the word. I think hot tub, I think jets which then leads to sexy time. He promptly corrected me and told me that was a Jacuzzi, not a HOT TUB. This fucker hated the jets, so he ixnayed them from the schematics... Take a fucking bath then.
Anyways, now to visit the reason dating and me are fighting right now and I am boycotting that shit. I meet people online, which is MISTAKE NUMERO UNO, mainly because I work a lot and don't have ample opportunities to meet people. And also because if I don't want to meet you, I don't fucking have to. And I try to screen people as carefully as possible. The infuriating problem with this that I have discovered in the most painful ways possible is this: people fucking lie, especially to dish themselves up to appear far more appealing than they actually are. I typically assume that people tell the truth, but that has turned out to be my wishful thinking. I tell the goddamn truth on those bitches, I want you to know exactly what I am before you meet me. Because I don't like failing in the expectations department, it's my non-Turrets induced tick. THIS fucker I met, just failed at everything... horribly. Again, it wasn't an epic date from hell, setting that expectation... ;)
I date older men, but 33 and NO personality WHATSOEVER, was pushing it. But I like to give people the benefit of the doubt, plus he was attractive in his photos. That seems to be a problem with pictures, some people they over amplify and some people they under amplify. This one was OVER amplified. We talked for a few days before we met and I already insulted him. How? He didn't have a REAL job, he played poker online and boasted that he didn't have to work because he made so much money and took major offense to my "You don't have a real job?" comment. So the big day came on Wednesday, I drove to his house because strange men coming to my house is not ok. Literally, as soon as I pulled up to his house, I get a text from him saying "I see your online. not cool, I'll make other plans for the night."
Uh, who the fuck do you think you are? Creeper for one, tracking me online. I was fashionably late of course, how do men not know that women will ALWAYS make you wait? And I have a super advanced phone so I have the internet on my phone which was automatically logged into the site. Yes, yes I did make him feel the asshole. So, he meets me at the door. When he answered... I wanted to run, RUN FAR FAR AWAY. Remember the fact that I hate tacky shit? And no sense of style??? I suffered the wrath of a slighted 90's fashion mistake.... A pair of these babies:
Velcro sandals??? REALLY?! Plus the 90's cargo shorts and some atrocious hawaiian shirt thing. This guy was striving to impress. Already I knew this shit was a fail, but even though I can be a heinous bitch at times, my manners kicked in and I figured I HAD to be nice and grin and bear it. His house was also missing some important things, such as FURNITURE... He had one love seat... one, and a tiny ass TV on a tiny ass TV stand. Judgmental much? NO, but at 33 fucking years old, you should be established in life and not be living like a college student when you don't even work and pride yourself on the fact that you don't have to work from the oodles of money you make illegally. Drug dealers have more class in their homes than this guy did. He took me upstairs to his computer room. I got there about 6:50 and promptly announced I had to be outta there around 7:40 so I could get to a baseball game at 8. This was not a complete lie, I had to be there at 9, but that hour was not going to spent in his goddamn company. So... upstairs... it was WORSE. I peeked into his room as is customary to see how the shag pad is laid out. You can tell a lot from a guy's room. There was NOTHING in his room save for a mattress on the floor... and NO sheets. *PHYSICAL CRINGE* at this point. There wasn't even a box spring, just the mattress... no pillows either. Personally I find that trashy as all hell and would never personally live like that. Moving on, we sat in the computer room while he had me go over a personality thing... He told me he'd been reading about my personality based off my astrology and birth date range... no, that's not fucking weird at all, apparently a book knows more about me and you can gauge exactly who I am before you even fucking meet me from your numerology book... I humored him and read it, yea... NO, it was not spot on like he kept saying. PET PEEVE: assuming you know me when you do not and assuming you know how my brain functions. So that was fucking irritating. After I read it, I gave it back, showing my lack of interest in the thing. He stared at me, creepy style, until I asked what the hell we were going to do for an hour. He had no suggestions, something else I find particularly annoying. Entertain your date or don't have one, simple. I suggested something that would require NO talking, a movie. So we head back down stairs and he rifles through his impressive 20 stack of movies. The selection was overwhelming, I just did not know what to do with myself. He suggests Conan the Barbarian.... I asked if it was corny, he responded with no. ALL 80's movies are corny, not a fact that is lost on me, he FAILED that test. While he put in the movie, I strategically placed myself in the far fucking corner of the couch, my non-verbal indictor that I did not want to touch him while watching the movie. Men are oblivious because he plopped his giant ass right in the middle of the couch and brazenly draped his arm around me like I was his property.
Many thoughts went through my mind as we watched this horrid movie. I thought about getting up and leaving, without saying a word. I mulled over that thought for probably 10 minutes. I also repeated fuck my life over and over and over. I pretended I was on a date with a far more savory individual. That did not work. There were times where I was about to start laughing at how much I hated the situation and just wanted out. I'm sure there was a plethora of crazy facial expressions that crossed my face all at once. Eventually he went for the hand that was laced in my OTHER hand, to ward against such a move, but as with his obliviousness at the couch thing, this did not faze him either. He grabbed it, he did. And I said NO, and snatched that shit back. The discomfort after that was palpable. FINALLY escape was at hand 45 minutes into the movie. I booked it outta there and did not look back. I did not even grace him with a farewell, I fucking left. A psychotic episode ensued... I stopped at a GREEN LIGHT I was so far in my brain. Then... I laughed hysterically through 3 stoplights. This was not sane person laughter, this was completely crazy, I don't even know where this laughter came from, but it was the kind of laughter that causes involuntary tears to stream down your face as you laugh manically at shit that is far from funny.
As if to improve my night, I received a text from the guy who offered to fix my computer about what his reward was outta the deal. He said a blow job or cash worked. Wait, what? He offered, OFFERED, to fix my computer, took that shit from me without mentioning cash right off hand and then has the audacity to mention payment, in the form of a fucking blow job no less, two days after he has already had my computer?!?!
The result of all this? NO MORE FOR ANYONE, I REFUSE DATING, I REFUSE MEETING NEW PEOPLE.. in fact the next person I plan on meeting that is new, is my kid.
Jesus, it's almost a crime how much better I feel putting this experience into words for someone to hopefully read and either share in my disgust or be disgusted with me for being so disgusted. EITHER way, it should not feel this goddamn liberating blogging this... I think... I've crossed the line into full on blogger fever... Finally adding pictures and make it slightly that much more interesting doesn't help either. Just ignites the hunt for the perfect photo for post that day...
OH MY GOD, I should just date my blog and end the cycle of letdowns... Breakthrough... I HAVE FOUND ONE!!!!!