November 2018
Greetings from modern dating survivor island!!! A few juicy little tidbits have accumulated for your reading pleasure over the years since matrimony became past tense status. All it took was approximately 37 bottles of wine, 9 tears, 3 million utterances of the word fuck in tones ranging from “shouldaknown better’ whispers to “I’m about to lose my actual shit right now” rage rants, $600 dollars in therapy co pays, and the purchasing of, let’s just say ‘more than one’ lady toy. A small price to pay to illicit a giggle so here goes.
I thought I could tell you all about my wildly successful ventures into dating. By wildly successful I do of course mean describing to you all the festive ingredients that have gone into the huge steaming shit pile of social interactions that you may detect wafting from my general direction. Peeps, it’s been fun. Growing up my mom always told me to handle disappointment by “letting it roll of your back, squaring your shoulders and saying ‘next’ to the future.” She probably didn’t intend for me to take that SO literally as to say it out loud whilst deleting a douchbag’s phone number and texting the next seemingly cute normal guy because apparently….dates make you less lonely or something. Some don’t merit much mention as they never existed beyond the occasional hey howareya text. Some though, some are Just. Fucking. Gems. Looking at you guys who send the oh so original “show me the twins” texts…..LE SIGH….to think you choose lucky li lol me to woo. I hope someone, someday, unplugs your life support to charge their phone. For real though.
Where to even begin…all names have been changed to protect the identity of those involved. Ok that’s not true, I changed them because I thought of funny ones and have absolutely zero interest in protecting anyone’s anything if they made THIS roster.
(Finger flex, shoulder roll, knuckle crack….ok let’s do this!)
1) “Money Bags”
Awwww….ok so this guy was my first little effort into catching some date. I had no idea what to expect. We met at an On the Border in Irving for a drink. I got there first so I texted him asking what his favorite shot was. Bc mama need a shot yall. I had literally NEVER done this whole date thing before. David and I basically just started holding hands in a movie one night when we were eleven or so, and got married a little bit later. Low and behold he texts me back that he likes fireball. I’m thinking omigod….is this my shot glass spirit animal? I can throw back some whiskey…but I let that shit roll around on my tongue a while if its cinnamon. SO ok, so far so good. Then he’s like 40 minutes late. Incidentally that’s about how many pounds heavier he was than all the pictures he had sent me sooooo maybe that’s connected. Whatevs…I’m perfectly fine with beefy or lean and I knew he was running behind. He’s cute…kind of intense…soft spoken. We actually went out a few times. Then…for the first time and sadly not the last…I came up against something that made me physically balk. Chicken neck, double chin, big confused eyes style. We’re sitting there talking….he’s being super sweet….all the pet names and whatnot and then BAM….he asks me….with a straight fucking face…if he can borrow $400. Promises to pay me back by the end of the week. It was like a tranquilizer dart shot out of the atmosphere and rendered my attraction to him dead in the water. Instantly. I imagine that must be what losing a finger to a knife accident feels like. Quick, gross and permanent.
2) “The Brain”
So Brain earned this moniker bc he’s smart as hell. Hello my name is Donna and I am a sapiosexual. So we spent some time together and could talk about 100 different things. So what could go wrong? Well a few things. It didn’t take me long to realize that ALL THIS GUY DID was read, post about what he was reading on FB, and squat 500 lbs on the reg. That’s it. That’s all. Like he literally wouldn’t text for 2 days because he was “in his head” which is neurotic speak for emotionally unavailable and bad with time management. Or he just wasn’t that into me. Or he could detect I wasn’t that into him the more I learned about him….who knows dude? One thing got real clear real fast though. 9 minutes into that micro relationship I made my excuses and put ma shiz in reverse.
3) “Busey”
As in Gary Busey. Bachelor number three turned out to be a fucking nutcase. Not the dirty, kinda hot Brad Pitt in 12 monkeys nutcase. Like Gary “I can’t even hold a coherent conversation but I feel like I am sooo focused” Busey. So we grab a beer and he tells me he Ubered to the restaurant because he had been drinking a little bit. Ok, cool. I guess he took the right meds combo that night because we actually had a great time. He was quick witted, albeit a little jumpy but I took that for nervous energy. I told him I would drive him home since he lived close and seemed like the kind of dude that would drop like a stone with a good throat punch if he posed a threat. I run into a little bit of a problem when I realize, in my car outside his apartment, that I have to pee so bad it’s starting to tickle the back of my neck. So bad that I wasn’t even gonna make it to a dingy 7-11 or something. He had asked me if I wanted to come up for a night cap a few times to which I declined because come on yall, that spells sex in any language and I’m not just flinging it out there like a fucking fishing net. So I tell him I will come up to see his place because I’m precariously close to bladder explosion and that then I am leaving. Seriously…this was not a coy play on my part. I had no intention of hanging around. So I go up, and damn. This guy is living nice. Authentic sports memorabilia everywhere, vintage cameras that cost more than I make in a week just sort of flung around. Nice art, Italian shoes, tailored jeans…I can appreciate these things but I can’t help but wonder what he does for a living because he sort of dodged that question over dinner. Anyway skip to the part where my faith in humanity took a hit. We hung out a few times but I noticed he was increasingly jumpy…like either legit ADD or he was maybe on something. The guy darted around conversely and physically like a ping pong ball. He was nice and funny though….and really good time to be around. (I have found the crazies always are yall….must be a lack of inhibition or something) so I didn’t immediately pull him from the roster. The he goes off the grid for a few days. I think…ok well that’s strange…but I wasn’t that into him so no big. About a week later he calls to tell me he had been in JAIL because his apartment was RAIDED because he is a FUCKING DRUG DEALER!!!! Classic return of the chicken neck balking. I mean Jesus H, I am 3 for 3 but this guy…WOW! I wished him well and deleted his number. Maybe, just maybe lay off the drugs hon. It’s very Britney 2007.
4) “Casper
Honestly this one stung. He’s the 9 tear reference above. Cute guy. Sweet, smart, successful. Tall and able to keep up with my cutting humor linguistics. He seems like a good dad to his daughter, (did I mention so cute?) and is all about some Donna. This guy was a good morning texter, talk on the phone till 1 am, sending me music (good music as it were which just makes it worse…we all know music is my….well….siren song.) So we went out a lot bc he was actively pursuing time with me. I am thinking, dang, I might be “dating” this guy, and I like it. I liked all of it. Was this the ever evasive wooing I’d seen so much of in every rom-com since the first time I watched dirty dancing and understood approximately 10% of it!? Could it be!? We hit a solid 2 weeks and then….whooosh, he’s gone. I still don’t know why but he ghosted. I looked it up, I’m a historian ok, we research shit. I got some disturbing but likely accurate answers and then pulled back because that’s a psychological rabbit hole I haven’t the luxury to dwell in. And anyway it can all be summed up into a few choice words so the only reason for looking into it is to be able to spot a player coming at you. It’s like my nose has now been switched to the gear that can smell all the shit of bulls. Big Bulls, Stinky Bulls, Smart Bulls, High Bulls, Broke Ass Bulls and the Bulls with more damage in their head than I have the tolerance for.
With that I retreated back into my hovel a bit to regroup and come out keener. Lots of wine, lots of Amy Winehouse tune-age, the occasional jog and good laughs with great women…I call this SGB…single girl balm. It soothes and reduces big hurts to little head nods, eye rolls and mental bird flipping. For now, I am residing here and relishing in it. Until we meet again…stay rad.
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