Welcome To the Shenanigans That We Call Dating!

You know those dates that are so magical, so perfect that there are stories written about them? The one where even though the girl isn't quite perfect but the guy accepts that, takes her out to dinner, opens the door for her, pays (!), smells nice, looks nice, has his own place that isn't in his parents' basement, AND has a job that doesn't require him to say, "Thank you for coming to Regal Cinemas, enjoy your movie....?" What's that you say? You've never actually met a guy like that?! Shut your face! *Gasp* And now you want to know where to find that knight in shining armor? Well, I can't help you with that. What I can tell you is where to find guys that are so socially awkward, that having a full body waxing would be less painful than being seen in public with them: in other words, guys that make you want to get your ass on the Arranged Marriage Band Wagon so you don't have to deal with the Dwights of this world. I finally decided it's time to share stories of my last few years of dating: to the guy who cried during Transformers because Optimus Prime died (Emos are proof God has a sense of humor) to the guy who had ass beads in his bathroom (I know, WTF, right?!) to the guy who thought IDN meant "I don't know" and to all the other shenanigans that make dating life so memorable.

Saturday, January 11, 2014

The Keebler Elf

"And in the name of the Lollipop Guild
We wish to welcome you to Munchkin Land"
-Munchkins, Wizard of Oz
An acquaintance had invited me to a mixer at the Columbia Tower Club in Seattle, and while I was talking with someone, the Keebler came up to tell everyone he was leaving and we both acknowledge to the other to have a good night, though I didn't look at him. That’s it….uuunnntil he messaged me on Facebook. (It’s not stalking if it’s on Facebook. Just a little unpaid detective work) I had a vague recollection of meeting him, but I didn’t remember anything about him other than that. After a few days, he asked me if I would like to join a group of his friends and him for a Michael Buble concert. Bitches. Love. Michael. Buble. A mutual friend, said she said he seemed nice and warmed me he's not very tall. (When I think not very tall, I think 5'7) I had an event prior to the concert and told him I would meet up with him afterwards. Lo and behold, the Keebler invited himself by buying a ticket to the event (these are the signs women shouldn’t ignore. That’s how we get into shitty situations that end up being told on blogs) and suggested we ride together. My Idiot Card went to platinum status after this. I said yes. When the Keebler picked me up, I was really surprised at how short he was. I know, I know. You’re thinking, WHOA! Superifical beyotch! When the guy is an asshole, trust me, you pick apart everything about them. Plus, being 5’2 and dating a guy the same height as me? I can’t imagine having kids that short. It’ll be like having a bunch of Mini-Mes….quite literally.

The moment when I should have tried my hand at salvaging the night by jumping out of the vehicle was when we were on the freeway and his Breathalyzer Interlock went off.  What. The. Fuck?  The Keebler was like, “Oh….yeah…it was my first DUI and I paid a lawyer $10k to get me a good deal. Only six months of this and some fines.” Nothing is so attractive as watching an Interlock go off and a guy sucking and blowing on it for 30 seconds. Also, he apparently thought I was retarded. I know a few people who have had them and an Interlock means you’ve had a previous DUI. The most pressing question was why he didn’t use the $10k for shoe lifts and a new personality. I’m sure you can buy both for under $10k.

The event was at the Columbia Tower and had a Bubbles and Dessert theme. So, for someone with an Interlock, would just stick to the Dessert. The Alcoholic Keebler began drinking and I thought my sticking to a Diet Pepsi would give him a hint. No such luck. The more the Elf drank, the more touchy-feely he became. I’ve had more pleasant hangovers that have ended in the hospital than being touched by Elf.   

Due to him being drunk, we had to take an Uber to the concert. I had to tell him quite a few times to keep his hands off of me. Considering how passive-aggressive Seattle is, if a girl says to stop touching her, you stepped over the line. Since the Keebler Elf appeared to be a line stepper, he kept on touching...and drinking.  When the concert was over, he didn’t bother calling a cab and were walked around for 30 minutes at 11:30 at night looking for a cab in 30 degree temp. And my phone died so I couldn’t call one. By the time we found a town car, he was getting confrontational and aggressive, asking me, “Why don’t you like to be touched?  Did you have something bad happen to you?” Um. Yeah. The Creeper Keebler Elf is my bad experience. I finally told him to “Shut the fuck up” until we got back to the car.

Once we got there, he started yelling at me, “That’s it? You’re not going to thank me?” El Oh El, Munchkin. I’m not thanking you for trying to cop a feel. He repeatedly asked if he was going to make my blog in the elevator. I told him he wasn’t worth writing about.

I lied.

The Wannabe Christian Grey (50 Shades of Turkey Bacon)

"Yeah, you're hot. And then you open your mouth and it's like birth control."
-Eastside Girlism

The thing about Disney is that we’re wired to think Prince Charming is on his way. Don’t get me wrong; not looking for marriage, but hey, if I end up with a guy who treats me like a princess, I’ll give Walt his credit. The truth about fairytales is apparently we have to live with 7 strange men, to have an evil stepmom, or be killed first prior to our happy ending. In other words, we have to pay our dues (kiss a lot of frogs) before we meet the someone who will sweep us off our feet.
They say, “Life is too short to wake up with regrets.” Pish. They haven’t seen some of the dates I’ve been on. We’ve all had one relationship that the only way you could justify that kind of stupidity is maybe you were just drunk for the entire relationship? Sometimes I feel like I don’t have exes; mostly whys- like why did I date you?

 I met the Wannabe Christian Grey (he compared himself with the 50 Shades of Grey billionaire. I can’t even make this shit up) You know how they have a spoof of movies that are obscenely popular? He was like the real-life spoof of Christian Grey. Why did I date this guy instead of saying, "Laters, baby?" Yeah, I went there. They say that the best way to meet someone is through friends (rolls eyes. Worst. Idea. Ever)and plus, it took me a while to figure out he was living in his own little world. Our first date should have been an all-around deal breaker. More or less, I look back and think, was I retarded? No, I’m not asking rhetorically. There’s a chance I was delayed mentally for six months.

Our date began with Wannabe CG picking me up with a “buddy” (and when I think “buddy” I think guy friend) Anyone who shrugs and say “semantics” is a douche.  Turns out the “buddy” was a girl going on our date with us who didn’t know it was a date, making it really awkward for us all(well, not all. Just her and me apparently) It certainly escalated quickly when we ended up at a birthday party with 21 gay guys and two straight girls.  If I had a warning system like Homeland Security’s Terror-Alert system but for douchebags I would probably be looking at a Red- Severe Risk of Douchebauchery. His shirt actually looked more girly than mine and he kept saying it was custom from France. This guy was either lying his ass off or so far in the closet, he was in Narnia . I’m going with the latter on this one.

Wannabe CG told everyone he has three companies, which he failed to mention didn’t have any employees, even himself since the first one that actually had a product at one point was essentially bankrupt and in lawsuits. The other was doesn't have a product and the last is an umbrella for the combined "companies."  I'm sure Enron was managed better than his companies. Image is really important to a lot of people on the Eastside. Then again, so is popping your collar. I don’t mind dating someone without money, but when their mother is cleaning their apartment once a week and buying them groceries, sometimes it’s smart to go through the dresser to see if they even own a pair of big boy boxers. I’m not saying I hate the guy, but if he cuts himself on something I hope it’s in a shark tank.

My favorite moment (why in the hell hasn’t Microsoft invented a sarcasm font?)  with the Wannabe CG is one night, he decided he was hungry and made some turkey bacon. (throws hands up…just eat real bacon like real men do for fuck’s sake)  Since it was around one am, I decided to go to bed as I get up at 6 for work.  I woke up to him screeching about how the turkey bacon wouldn’t have burned if I had been awake. I swear my IQ dropped points listening to him.  When I finally went into the kitchen, he doesn’t even follow me in, but curls up in the fetal position in the hallway, mumbling how he’s so hungry, he “feels sick.” At that point I was sick too. Sick of him. When did men become so emo?

The moral of the story on Wannabe CG…make sure you don’t date anyone whose mom cleans his place, lies about being a “baller” and has about as much common sense as Charlie Sheen on a coke binge.

Rumor in some circles is that he’s trying to get into politics. Personally, I wouldn’t endorse this guy even if he was doing a charity walk for a disease I had.

Friday, March 19, 2010

Charlie Sheen

"Coke is God's way of saying you make too much money."
-Robin Williams

Sometimes, when you look back at the moment a guy asks you out,  you realize you should have clicked your Christian Louboutin heels together three times and said, "There's no place like hell, there's no place like hell..." because let's face it- the epitome of evil poking you in the ass with a burning pitch fork would have been more fun than a date with that guy. Sure, he looks good, is funny, and definitely is interested in you but it doesn't mean the pros of why you date this guy keep going. In fact, that's about when they stop. The guy may open his mouth and everything he says loosely translates to: "I've gone as far as I want to in society. The buck stops here."  There needs to be some law that all douchebags should be required to wear Ed Hardy or Affliction gear so that they can be easily identified to prevent further damage in the dating world.

I met Charlie Sheen at his place of work, which is a mortgage company, in March of this year. He actually saw me walking out of his building and ran out of his office to ask me out. It was kind of flattering in that stalkerish, "I'm really desperate sort of way" but first impressions aren't always accurate...right?  The best moments of hindsight are the ones where the realization that a Brazillian wax would have been less painful than listening to this guy talk. Too bad I'm only partially deaf in one ear. I picked Charlie Sheen on a Wednesday and as soon as he gets into my car, he slides the seat back and slouched to the point where his knees touched the dash (I felt like that was the signal to do a drive-by)  then said, "You drive a Hybrid? Nice. They're spendy." Oh, gee...that's why I bought the car. For your sole approval.  Charlie suggested dinner at an upscale Thai place in Bellevue, which was a favorite establishment for him....because he can drink as much as he wants and then just walk to his condo. As soon as he sat down he ordered a double Jack and Coke. It was kind of like watching a guy who knew he was about to be sentenced to mandatory AA meetings having a final drink. Not only did Charlie toss that bad boy down his throat, he then asked for the rest of my mojito that I was apparently "nursing." Ever see some people eat hunched over after getting out of prison in order to protect their food? It was like that with my mojito, I had to protect my drink because it was my only link to sanity and tolerance. After we ordered dinner, he decided to tell me about his hot sister (wtf? He must be related to Angelina Jolie and her sister kissing brother) and how she's a former model/current cop who has all these guys after her. One guy called him crying to ask him how to get her back. Well, uh, maybe she dumped the guy because he wasn't on her brother's level. Ew. His mother is a secretary for the FBI, his step dad a former cop, and his dad is FBI. They were so well off they sent him to Life Christian private school and didn't mind his drug usage as long as he got good grades.  He also enjoys long walks on the beach, listening to Bach, scholastics such as reading, writing ....oh and yes, his friends weed and coke. Charlie Sheen mentioned that "I hate my job so much I spoke a blunt right out of bed, throw on a designer suit (I was almost sure he was straight....) and head to Starbucks for coffee and munchies (betcha those baristas are way impressed) then roll in to work to deal with my bitch of a boss."  On the weekend, coke is the drug of choice. (Maybe he should switch careers and become D.A.R.E officer) I kept staring at his watch and class ring to see if I could find the little latch where the drug would be stored. Seriously thinking of becoming a street pharmacist. It's people like him that could have me retiring by the time I'm 35. His parents apparently also own a plane and paid for his pilot's license so that he can travel "reasonably any time he wants to."  Charlie Sheen managed to ask me two questions about myself (where was I from and what type of music I listened to) only to interupt me and turn the subject back on himself and all the celebrities he's hung out with. Reggie Jackson? You don't know him?! (I almost said, Lindsay Lohan? You don't know her? I thought all you drug addicts know one another....) I could have shot myself in the face, if only to end my own misery. The little bastard eventually stole the rest of my mojito while I debated about sneaking out of the restaurant or just rocking myself into a safe place. The one nice thing that happened for me on this glorious o' nights? He paid. Oh, look! It's so small, you almost miss it....but wait, there it is! ...a silver lining. I dropped him off at his Coke Palace and he invited me up to his condo to smoke a blunt with him. Thanks, but I would have a black out party by myself and a bottle of tequila.  Charlie must have been impressed with my listening skills and overabundance of manners by not telling him to go f*** himself because he text me, and I quote "So I figure you qualify for another date. What's up with dinner"  Well, what I figure is he definitely doesn't qualify.

Monday, December 14, 2009

Socially Awkward Guy

"Dating is kind of like trying to find a parking spot at Costco- all the good ones are taken and only the handicapped ones are left"    -Eastside Girlism

A social reject is someone who should not be confused with a social outcast. This individual is a person who is rejected by people who aren't social rejects, but are accepted by other special little people of their own kind. A prime but pretty obvious example are people who play World of Warcraft or Halo. It's like crack in CD-Rom form for people who live in their mother's basement and work for Game Stop....or a guy whose dad was my co worker and thought we'd be a "great match. You guys would be perfect together."

I think a really awesome starting point for any guy is when his dad harasses his co-worker via email, IM and in person to date their kid. Just to get the guy to quit nagging me about his kid, I finally said ok after two weeks of constant bombardment since Socially Awkward Guy's dad said, "Even if it doesn't work out, you'll at least get a free dinner out of it." Warning bells had already gone off but the fact that the dad may had an idea that it was a pity date should have been the first sign of the Apocalypse. Socially Awkward Guy was pretty quiet on the phone but I chalked that up to the weirdness we must have both been feeling since it was technically a blind date. I suggested a few of my favorite restaurants for him to pick from in Seattle and he picked the priciest one...which I then told him to go online and check out the menu (hint, the prices are listed on the site but I'm guessing World of Warcraft was more important than opening a new browser). We met at The Purple Cafe in downtown Seattle which is a wine bar. He wore a Mr. Rogers sweater, Dockers and shoes that looked like he bought them at the Tacoma B and I. Not that I completely judge someone based on their lack of fashion sense...oh wait, actually I do. He was tall and looked like a starving Ethiopian child with ears that could pick up radio stations across the globe. The entire three courses of the meal consisted of one-sided conversations. ME: "Did you grow up in Seattle?" SAG: "No, California." Crickets....crickets....crickets...ME: "What do you do for fun?" SAG: " I play WOW (oohhh woooowww...I never would have guessed that!) and I work three jobs because I like money. I bought a nice Mazda with my money." A 'nice Mazda' is an oxymoron but considering the source, you almost have to let it slide. About this time I asked him if he went to a university, SAG told me he quit going to Bellevue Community College because "the books in the backpack hurt my back and I do well enough I don't need an education." Obviously not if you're working three jobs buddy. This was about the point I made up my mind to do the right thing by either punching a baby out of sheer frustration or I was going to start drinking. Unfortunately, I choose the latter as there weren't any babies readily available in the restaurant but the upside was that we were in a wine bar. You're damn right, I ordered a bottle. I was looking at the wine as more of an investment in my mental health than as a bottle of red deliciousness. I let him have a small glass but I made sure I was throwing it back like tequila shots so he couldn't get WOW tainted hands on my pinot noir. When the tab came, it sat on the table awkwardly for about 15 minutes. Finally I whipped out my wallet, threw a $100 down for my portion as well as to include $20 for tip which he pocketed then ran his card for the bill. He actually tipped $20 bucks on a $170 tab. Uh....what the fuck? We had amazing service and he didn't tip?! In the Land of Passive Aggressive, I feel that I may be their queen. I said nothing but not because I didn't want to confront, but because I doubt he could comprehend anything beyond a virtual reality. He tried to walk me to my car which I told him was four blocks in the opposite direction of his place. Actually, I parked kiddy corner to the restaurant. He leaned it to try and kiss me outside the restaurant. The beauty of being 5'2 is that when a tall person tries to kiss you, you see that bad boy coming at you within enough time to dodge it. I hauled ass like a kid in Detroit after stealing something from the local 7-11 to my parking garage, letting him see that I parked close and guess what? I was hoping he would see so his window licking, helmet wearing self would  realize I lied. Lo and behold,  the next day he text me that he wanted to see me again for lunch. I briefly thought of joining WOW so I could find him online and virtually kill him. Ah....passive aggressive can have its perks. I deleted his father from my work IM and blocked his emails. At least his dad got the hint.

Saturday, December 12, 2009

The BMW Guy

"It is better to be thought a fool, then to open your mouth and remove all doubt." -Albert Einstein

I met this guy through my work, he seemed nice enough and my boy loving friend Stephen thought he was cute so I thought, what the hell?  BMW Guy and I made plans to meet at Barnes and Noble is Woodinville to go to an Italian Restaurant nearby. He had just bought a BMW and was a little more excited about it than he should be. For the ten minute drive to the restaurant he talked about his car, his life, and well himself mostly.  Then we get the restaurant....and it's closed. Gee, I'm glad that was planned well.  I think the best part was how he was talking about the restaurant being his favorite place and he goes there all the time. Uh huh....yeah....how is it that he didn't know that it opens at 5 on Saturdays. So BMW guy says there's another Italian Restaurant close to that one, just down the road. Um, yeah, if 25 mins is close, sure but he left that out so I was stuck with him revving his engine and talking about himself and the stupid car. By the way, he forgot to mention his ex worked the restaurant we went to. He actually stopped outside the door, said "oh shit, I don't think we can go in there, I think the hostess is my ex." Someone applaud this guy for managing to find anyone who go out with him more than once and claim him as a boyfriend. I guess miracles can and do happen. At dinner, I would ask him a question and he'd answer and go on and on about himself. I know all the jobs both sisters have had, his family background and why he was living at home (fucking kidding, what is this trend?!) and all about a ring his grandfather gave him...like I truly care.  After so generously splitting the tab with me but even more magnanimous of him was when he paid the tip which he seemed to think was a big deal. I think my favorite highlight is when BMW guy struggling to figure out how to double click the keyless entry to unlock the passenger door so he got in the car while I waited outside of it as he kept clicking it to make it unlock. Are you fucking serious?! It's 15 degrees and he left me outside of the car while he was in it so he can play with his car? Also, burning out your car and driving like a teenager would a suped up Honda makes me want to go all Tiger Woods' wife on his car. I'm Asian and my driving is better than that.  Best part, when he dropped me off at my car, he talked for five mins explaining he was really off today and was exhausted but wants to see me again.  Yeah, I'd rather offer myself as a human sacrifice to some cannibals.

Monday, November 23, 2009

Ugly Things Inside Pretty Packages

"There's very little advice in men's magazines, because men think, I know what I'm doing. Just show me somebody naked"--Jerry Seinfeld

     One of my favorite places to hang out in Seattle is in Belltown. It has such an eclectic short of mix that there is always something for everyone. You want metro guys whose jeans cost more than your Rock & Republics? See Sound Lounge is the place. You want a Codger (that's a coffin dodger mind you) then head to Twist. Old men with money (or just really good credit) claim that as their territory and would like to take care of any daddy issues you may have. If you feel like being roofied or shot, Club Venom is your best bet to troll for that guy who "keeps it real, yo, ya know what Imatalkin' 'bout?" For me, the most likely place to speak with someone who doesn't use the words"ah, shhhiittt" as well as having a job is Amber. Guys are not as likely to grab you and put his face within three inches of yours and ask to buy you a drink here. A few months ago some girls and I decided to have a girls night out and went to Amber. Normally, I'm not a big fan of meeting a guy at the bar. Who doesn't act like they're someone else that they aren't when their out in the bar? You're more flirty, you're more fun, and you're definitely more drunk. Drinking lowers inhibitions and let's not lie here. EVERYTHING can eventually look good with alcohol, right? (Forecast for tonight is alcohol, low standards and poor decisions) This is how I met The Canadian. He was good looking, had these incredible baby blues and he was articulate. He's lived in Washington since he was 22 and was 31. He followed us to Venom a few hours later and we talked for a couple of hours. He was so nice, fun and didn't seem the Ted Bundy type so I gave him my number. Living in Olympia at the time, I drove to Seattle to meet him at his place so that we can go to the Steelhead Diner and a charity event. He lived in a nice apartment on Wall Street and was just as good looking as I remembered. (No beer goggles for this girl!!) I used the restroom prior to use going out and oh, hey! What is a guy doing with wooden necklaces on top of the toilet tank? My Blackberry doesn't actually have a camera phone so I text my girlfriend Nancy in the matters of sex toys as she's a pro. Within six text messages, her deduction of the "necklace" was as followed: "RUN BITCH RUN! THOSE ARE ASSBEADS!!!" Wooden ass beads....who uses them unless they're a porn star?! I went to school with a porn star and I'm sure even her standards are above using those ass beads. Of  course I acted like nothing was wrong and as soon as the evening was over, I hauled ass to my car. Even though he's on my Facebook and we don't talk, when I have a bad day I look at his account and remember that at least my little booty is safe from harm's way.

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