Dates Where I Was On My Worst Behavior
As you have probably noticed, I have been on a lot of weird dates. Remember Sparkles? I do. Unfortunately. So in all fairness to the fallen soldiers that have attempted to date me, I figured it would only be fair if I shared some of the stories that the guys are probably sharing about me. Because really, have you been reading along here? I am far from normal myself.
So, since I am a confident and rarely embarrassed version of a single woman, I am not afraid to point out that sometimes I can be a pretty horrible and inexcusably awkward human being myself. Therefore, I bring you:
I tend to date a lot. Like, a lot, a lot. I usually have at least three or four boys on the “rotation,” giving all of them explicit instructions that I am not looking to settle down and encouraging them to date other people. You should see their faces. “So what are we,” they usually ask. “We are fun. That’s what we are buddy. Fun.” They are usually unamused. Why do they seem so surprised? I told them before our first date that I was not looking for a relationship, that I am, and will continue, to see other people, that I encourage them to do the same, and that I am not sleeping with them or anyone else.
Now seriously, who in their right mind would proceed into that mess? Let me tell you, a lot more than you would think. I have literally had this conversation several times before: “Well I’m busy tonight, but why don’t you take out that other girl that you were talking about and maybe we can meet up tomorrow.” You know what that is? That is ABNORMAL. That’s what that is right there. Abnormality at its finest.
Unfortunately, boys catch feelings a lot faster than I usually expect. Inevitably at some point, they want me to meet their families and label me “the girlfriend,” and then because I am a recovering emotional mess, I break it off completely.
But before that happens, stuff like this happens.
I once went on a first date to the arboretum, which is essentially a highly overpriced forest preserve with trees that you aren’t allowed to touch. Unless you are me. So this dude convinces me to climb one of the trees with him. Unless it involves the highway or anything to do with my fish phobia, I am not one to back down from a challenge. I agree to climb this big tree, conveniently located right behind a large sign that says “Do Not Climb Trees Under Penalty of Law.” For some reason we have decided that this sign does not apply to us because we are
adventurous idiots and with that we climb the tree. Once we are hanging out in the tree he starts to lose his balance a little bit. Now I will admit, I definitely have the better spot in the tree. My branches are like all baskety and nesty, and I’m chillen’ like a pimped out big bird, while he on the other hand, is hanging on to his side like a terrified baby monkey.
Now you wouldn’t be surprised at all to learn what happens next now would you? Of course not, because ITS ME!!! Weird stuff happens to me! So in keeping with my totally “of course that happened” life, the ground crew drives up in their little golf cart and starts trimming the lower branches of the tree. Poor date dude decides now would be the time to say “move over, I’m starting to slip (he didn’t seem overly alarmed),” and of course in my overly compassionate state, I’m all “DON’T MOVE OR WE MIGHT GET ARRESTED IF THEY SEE US.” There is only room for one of us in this nest buddy and I’m claiming it for the one without the manly muscles. Can you guess what happens next?
I kid you not, dude falls out of the tree. Boom. Just falls flat out of the tree. I think he may have even bounced a little bit, I’m not really sure, it all happened so fast. I will however, tell you what happened next. Dude bounced right up to his feet and starts talking to the ground crew. Clearly he is not gravely injured so naturally I seize the opportunity to jump out of the tree… and run away. All the way to my car.
See, I don’t need bail money, I just need to be able to run faster than dude guy. Success. That’s nice girl, what a sweetheart you are. You just abandoned your possibly, but probably not, gravely injured date, to save yourself. At least I was kind enough to text him and make sure that I didn’t need to bail him out. I didn’t and so the next date took place in a much safer location. I’m no longer dating him, but I’m pretty sure I’m known as the girl that abandon her date at the first sign of trouble. Oops.
Now I can’t forget about the guy that I went mini golfing with. It was a first date and I didn’t know him all that well. If I had, I wouldn’t have gone. We walk up to the register to get the clubs and what not, and cheap ass just stands there. I tell the cashier that we would like to play one round, she gives us the total, and cheap ass just continues to stand there. Now I have my debit card in my pocket already because I fully intended to pay for myself, but come on cheap ass, are you kidding me? He doesn’t even move. I look at him and I ask “do you want me to get this?” to which he replies “that would be great thanks.” You’re kidding, right? Nope! I pay and decide this date is already over, but hello, I just paid, so hell if I’m leaving.
We get to the first hole and he decides he is going to putt first so he can “show me the correct positioning.” Well let me tell you cheap ass, I will never be showing you what positioning I prefer, because I will never be seeing you again after today. I watch him and then when its my turn I drive the ball right into the water trap. “Oh no baby, I’m not very good yet, would you mind getting that ball out of the slimy water for me?” That scenario was repeated for the first four holes and then I changed tactics and just became a complete bimbo. I’m dancing, cracking horribly corny jokes, and inviting everyone else on the course to play with us. He is keeping score, TAKING NOTES, constantly asking me to watch his swing, and then cheering for himself after every hole. On top of that he is fairly condescending, telling me why I, as a woman, will never be as good as him in life because he has a natural advantage. Thanks to him I have “lil dicky’s it’s a damn good day to be a white dude” song running through my head for the majority of the condescending date. When we FINALLY get to the end he asks me out to lunch. You know what? I could eat.
We get to the restaurant and he runs into a colleague, to whom he invites to sit down, and talks to for the majority of the meal. He never even once acknowledges my presence. No introduction, nothing. So since no one is noticing me, you won’t notice when I order everything on the menu then, right? Nope, doesn’t even notice. Once I’m finished with my childish inner temper tantrum and all of my meals, I leave. He texts me asking when we can get together again. Never. That’s when. The day after never. Maybe the day after your cheap ass finishes paying off the debt that I racked up at the restaurant.
How About We Move This, To The Pantry
Some poor guys don’t even have to do anything wrong to get a glimpse into the insanity that is me. One dude, we had been casually dating for a while, and we were sort of messing around in my kitchen. Now I never sleep with them, but as I’ve said before, I’m cool with messing around. So things are …”going,” and he picks me up and puts me on the kitchen counter. Now at this point, I have been giving him all the right ‘go ahead’ signal’s, highlighted by the fact that my hand is placed firmly on his junk, when he says to me in what he assumes will be a sexy turn on line, “I’m going to ravage you.” That’s it, my brain has now just flipped to past trauma’s. I slide off the counter without even saying a word while my brain is scrambling to process “What the hell were you thinking!? No one knows this guy is here, you are completely alone, AND KNOW ONE KNOWS IT.”
At some point I realize that I am backing away from him. I only realize this when I trip over something and land on my ass in the pantry. I snap out of trauma mode only to realize that the only person more terrified than me, is him. He looks white as a sheet. I feel awful, he feels awful, we continue to date, but I eventually break up with him because it just never feels not awkward anymore. Since he knew nothing about my past I most likely just appeared crazy to him. I’m sure that has made for a couple of great party stories.
Now I don’t know about you, but me and my girlfriends love to gossip about the awkward moments in the bedroom. However, I have noticed that most of my girlfriends have conveniently been blessed with nothing but grace and poise in the bedroom and their dates seem to carry the burden of every cringe worthy moment. Or so they say…..
Not me. Have you read the description of my blog under the title? “A constant stream of over sharing…”
Yea. Get ready.
A couple of weeks ago I was making out with a guy in my car and he told me my gum didn’t have any flavor anymore. “My gum? How would you even know? Wait, I’m not even chewing gum. Wait, wasn’t I chewing gum? Speaking of…where is my gum? Oh my gosh, my gum is in your mouth!? Wth!” That has to make me officially like the worst kisser ever. Like, ever. I would be so grossed out if I were him.
Another time, in an even later date moment, I rolled over my boyfriend and fell out of the bed. That was hot. I bet that is a story he loves sharing. “Girl and I were getting it on and she just fell right out of the bed!” To be fair, only like %98 of me fell out of the bed. If memory serves me right, one foot was still tangled in the sheets, so I was only like mostly on the floor. I was a tiny bit still hanging from the bed, so only mostly on the floor. Not completely. That must count for something, am I right?
Or there was Black Friday where dude and I were doing a little more than shopping in the front seat of the car and my ass beeped the horn. Yep, that happened. It drew the attention of the entire packed parking lot to our near naked bodies pressed against the window at 2:30 in the morning. Classy. I, thought it was pretty funny. He, on the other hand, was mortified. Like I was laughing, and he was pulling my tree date moment and running for cover. To be accurate though he did push me against the horn. But whatever, I have no problem taking the blame.
Also, just for record, in case you ever need this info, those edible body paints that they sell at adult stores really should be called “shower paints.” I’m pretty sure that particular guy’s bedding set will be forever ruined thanks to the artsy flare that I had one night. Oops. I’d love to hear the explanation he gives to the next person who sees his now tye-dyed bedding.
Also, since I’m handing out info, don’t use whipped cream. Sounds fun, but actually, it really smells. Like its so gross it kills the mood completely. I feel bad that I made that guy run to walgreens at midnight, as I ended up literally gagging at one point. Nothing says “sexy” like a girl dry heaving! Stick with chocolate syrup. Trust me. You’re welcome.
I’m also fairly certain that I’ll never live down being the girl who went down on her boyfriend in his office only to find out later that his boss watched the entire thing on the security camera. Especially when I showed up the next day and his boss high-fived him. So naturally, just to mess with his boss, I showed up the following day as well, waited for his boss to walk by, winked at him, and then shut the office door. That time I covered up the security camera. I wouldn’t want to shatter the boss’s illusion he had of me as I sat in my boyfriend’s office and we did nothing but eat lunch.
Yea, I’ve had my moments…..it takes talent to be as awkward as me, just sayin’! So, as much as I love to rag on the boys for being weird and strange and awkward, I bring a pretty even game to the table.
So there karma, I am still allowed to make fun of my horrible dates because I am willing to also make fun of myself.
Maybe one day I will share with you the awkward bedroom moments that had nothing to do with me, because now take it from me, THOSE are funny. But in the meantime world, pray for the boys that take me out. They just have no idea what they might be in for.
Photo Credit Steamy Window: http://www.flickr.com/photos/d-reichardt/
Photo Credit No Sex: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jaygooby/
Photo Credit Monkey: http://www.flickr.com/photos/fionab/
Photo Credit Angel: http://www.flickr.com/photos/furryscalyman/