Not a Word

We all know that talking can get you into trouble on dates. Whether you drop a bomb about your baggage, manage to insult their mother, or just get flustered, it's easy to say the wrong thing. That's why we had to share a story from a reader about someone ruining things by keeping mum. Hope you enjoy this story as much as I did! Thanks for the contribution, sweetheart!


HAPPY DATING!!

So, recently I have decided to get out of my two year long dating funk by taking a "Yes Man" approach to dating.  I say yes to pretty much any guy who asks me out within reason (okay, so I'm not so good at the 'yes to everything rule.'). Still, I have been out on more dates this year than the last two combined and there have been some pretty awesome ones in the mix.  But who really wants to hear about the good dates? It is all about the awkward, the weird, the dramatic. So here is a weird one for all of you.

It is a second date scenario - second dates are my downfall, I swear. This one had promise though, the guy (we'll call him Dean) and I had a great first date and kept up with each other consistently with calls and texts. He lives a little ways from me, so the second date was about two weeks after the first.  I was set to have a great time. We were going to see "Prometheus" at midnight (I'm a sci-fi/comic book/fantasy geek so it is right up my alley), and I was under the impression that we were doing a double date with a friend of his. Nope. I meet up at the theater with him and I'm happy to see that he's waiting outside with tickets and my favorite drink, only to tell me that his friend is third wheeling. I was less than excited, but I like making friends and luckily got on well with the new guy immediately. 

Now, here's where it gets weird.

Dean turns out to be a total movie buff - something that would be awesome if he were not also the type who likes to 'immerse himself completely.' He was totally pretentious about the entire movie experience, already critiquing the previews of Prometheus before we got in.  Which, as someone who dedicates most of her study to analyzing the form and construct of comics, was interesting but the second we hit the theater door he completely clammed up. Honestly, he would not even try to hold a conversation with me and we had an hour until previews started. He told me that he had to get into the right mindset and that he could not talk. I nodded politely and munched on my popcorn, which earned a sympathetic look from the friend who, helpfully, tried to start up talk with us, only to get shushed.  The entire time I was thinking, "Seriously, dude? You are not the one flying into space to find your creator, you'll be fine if you hold a conversation with me."  The date ended and he did not even walk me to the car or give me a kiss goodnight.  The only good thing about the night was his friend who was actually polite and interesting. Go figure.

And the real kicker? A few days ago he asked me to Spiderman and I really can't bring myself to go even with my loosely followed 'yes' rule telling me I should.

The 34 Year Old Virgin

Hi, there.

No, we're not dead. Well, I'm not.

In fact, I'm a bit rage-y lately. That boy that turned me into the Southern Girlfriend? Let's just say things didn't work out and it was 100%, utterly, and completely of his doing. Oh, and remember the one I wrote an open letter to (who I've been calling Fuck You Guy)? He came back in the picture and is throwing my li'l heart for a loop. Anyway, there's a touch of background to why I'm about to share a story that sums up in a really mean thought. And yes, only a thought, because try as I might, I'm a good girl at heart.

Ahem.

A few years ago, I had recently broken up with my first real, long-term boyfriend. I had done the grieving (there wasn't a lot) and had gone on a few dates. I'd even spent some time out of town, but then returned to the big(ger) city. Upon my return, I met a guy at a party who was totally not my type, but I was so drunk I started holding his hand. Things just happen sometimes, right? Anyway, he was a gentleman and drove me home, making zero moves. I promptly forgot about him.

A few weeks later, I get a text from him. Turns out that a friend of a friend had given him my number, and he thought I was cute. I was flattered, and agreed to go out with him, even though I wasn't sure whether I wanted anything to happen. This one time turned into a few times, and I got to know him more. Turns out that he's what we non-churchgoers of the bible belt call a Super Christian. Along with weekly church services, little to no drinking or swearing, and general goodness, most Super Christians also believe in abstaining from sex until marriage. That's right - I was dating a guy who was a 34 year old virgin.

I didn't believe it at first. I mean, really? So I dropped some hint-y questions. He never said, "Yes, I'm a virgin," but he also never said that he wasn't, either. One night, things got hotter and heavier than usual, and he asked if I wanted to go to the bedroom. I was curious, so I went for it. The heavy petting continued, and he started to awkwardly undress me. All the while, my mind was racing - "Has he done this before? It's pretty awkward. What would Jesus do?" All I could muster was to ask, "I thought you were a good boy. Are you sure you want to do this?" And he jumped up, ran to his dresser, and grabbed a brand spanking new box of condoms. In response, he said, "Would a good boy have these?" In my mind, I thought, "Why, yes, yes a good boy would have a box of condoms that he bought roughly 6 hours ago," but my mouth played along and said, "No, I suppose not."

Anyway, things kept going, and if you've ever stolen someone's innocence, you can guess how bad it was. He placed himself very much in charge and was not open to any suggestions. My comfort and pleasure were not important, and there was only one goal in his little mind. It became more and more apparent that he was, indeed, a good boy. Once his mission was accomplished, I got dressed and left. We kept in touch, but just barely.

Here's the part that I love, though. To everyone else he's ever met, he's still a virgin. To his fiancée, he's a virgin that will be giving himself to her on their wedding night. To his friends, he's as pure as the driven snow. I have friends who are married to his best friends, so I know the truth of this to a very comfortable degree.

Knowing that he's harboring this sinful secret, I really, really, really want to tell someone. The ultimate fun would be showing up at his wedding and speaking up instead of holding my peace. But really, in the society of this little corner of the word, I'd ruin his life and end his marriage before it started. Instead, then, I'll bite my tongue and keep my dirty secret. My uncomfortable, zero fun, sinful little secret.

HAPPY DATING!

Blondie and the hottie from the gym

** Today we have a guest post from Blondie, who has agreed to share some of her dating adventures in the city. Like some people we know (ahem) Blondie is enjoying a fairly fresh foray into singledom, making good use of the wonders and joys of the Internet. ***

Friday night was supposed to be my dating night off. Thursday night I had been with a couple I see, and I had a date on Saturday with a guy I've been seeing for a little while - so Friday I was going relax and give my "body" a rest.

I ended up going out to the bars with a couple friends. The plan was just to have a beer or two, go home and watch a movie. Well, I get to the bar and we hang out a bit and I realize that this guy who I've had a massive crush on at the gym is there. Not some guy I've seen - but a hot 6 foot 7 inch tall basketball player I've been watching while I cool down on the track for the last 5 years.

I tell my friend the story and he talks me into talking to the guy. Long story short - I talk to him and end up going home with him that night. Yep - I got to sleep with my gym crush. But that's not all.

Side note - this gym guy ends up not being very bright. It was an interesting situation for me - I felt like one of those guys who sleeps with hot dumb chicks. While we were hanging out post sex, I was found myself having an internal debate about hotness vs. intellect. Does his hotness make up for lack of smarts? Would I ever dare bring this guy around my friends? Would I be comfortable keeping a guy around for sex just because he was hot, even if he wasn't that interesting to talk to? (I appreciate that this might make me sound like an asshole but I have smart friends and they would call me out on this.)

But, the sex is fun, I have a good time. And, oddly, after sex, he hung out completely naked until I left. He was up walking around, doing all kinds of things. I thought it was cool how comfortable he was, most guys throw on a pair of boxers or something. Though I guess I could have done without him leaving the door open and looking at and speaking to me while he pissed.

As we're hanging out afterwards, he asks if I want to spend the night. I say no because, quite frankly, his apartment was kind of a shit-hole. I don't quite understand how a 32-year-old guy with a professional-type job could live like that. Anyway, I say no thanks and go home at about 3:30am or so. When I got home, I sent him a text saying I made it home safely. He didn't text back until the next day, but this is the conversation:

Me - I made it home safely.

Him - Who is this?

Me - Uh ... Blondie. The girl you slept with last night.

Him - Haha, no seriously, who is this?

Me - I am serious. Don't you remember?

Him - I'm in Seattle with my fiance. I think you have the wrong number

Me - HA! You're right. Wrong number. That's hilarious.

Well.

It turns out that I don't have the right phone number for this guy. He just gave me his number, I didn't give him mine. So now, not only did I hook up with the hot dumb guy, but I'm the one who never called again. Part of me feels a tad bad about that, but part of me thinks it's a little funny, if a bit of a bummer because I would like the option of sleeping with him again ... but c'est la vie.

Lessons on life and love from Beyonce

I recently met my good friend's sister. The way the visit worked out, the sister and I had some time to hang out the following day, after my friend left to fly back to Oregon.

Over a glass of wine, the three of us sat talking, and my friend's sister told me that whenever I woke up in the morning, we could go out and get breakfast together, and she'd be happy to show me around her town a little bit, as I hadn't spent much time there.

"And of course, if you'd like, we can go ring shopping! I know some great jewelry shops!"

Whoa. Wha?

Back up a little bit. I'm in a relationship. Have been for about 2.5 years. I'm 30. In the last year, I moved across the country to be with him. So, would I like to go ahead and get - if not hitched - engaged? Sure. And I don't see the point in pretending that's not the case. I don't try to advertise or bitch about it, but I'm not going to lie about it - definitely not to my closest friends. But, now I have to wonder.

I mean, I figured my friend would give her sister some backstory on me. She knew where my friend and I had met, she knew the basics of why I live in the south ... but is "she's waiting on her slacker boyfriend to propose" on the short list of details about me that I expect people to hear before they meet me? Yikes.

It brought me back to a conversation my boyfriend and I had before we moved out here. Two friends of mine had been together for 10 years, and I knew she was ready to get things moving. Get married, think about starting a family. So when I saw him, and she wasn't around, I'd nudge. And I wasn't subtle.

"Dude. What are you waiting for? When are you going to put a ring on it?"

It made me feel annoying, but I checked with my girlfriend, and she was totally OK with this type of encouragement. [I mean, I could write another blog post about why and how it is that there are certain decisions in hetero relationships for which women are basically removed from the decision-making process. You can't nag. You can't push. You're not supposed to complain, lest you be one of those gross old-fashioned girls who actually - gasp - wants to get married. Yuck. We're not supposed to care. And it's not like you could do something crazy like ask him.]

When my b.f. heard me talk about this couple, and about how the fellow needed to get his shit together, he wondered if I was trying to give him a hint.

"No, dear. They've been together for a decade. It's a different situation."

But that conversation was a year and a half ago. Are things different? Is living in the south affecting my views on marriage? Out here, people give me a sidelong look when I mention that I moved across the country to live with my boyfriend. People check my hand when I talk about him. I've literally been told that Jesus wants me to get married. His stepmother told him it bothers her that he hasn't at least bought me a ring.

I don't know. But I do know this: I told my boyfriend the ring shopping story when I got home. I'll let him decide what it all means.

A new dating website

Just wanted to share with everyone a new dating website you might want to check out! It may be the only site I've ever seen that actually recommends you carry a gun for protection "until Obama takes it from your cold dead hand" har har har.



Looking for more wackadoodle stuff like this? Start with Stuff Fundies Like.

And if you're not a sodomite, go ahead and check out the site here.

Captain Obvious

I am happy to say that I am seeing a card-carrying member of the Human Race now. New One and I went to the Apple Store last night and bought a computer for him. That's not what this is about, though. This is about the unwelcome drunk texts I got from a previous fling-guy this past weekend.


(FRIDAY/SATURDAY 2:00 A.M.)

HIM: Are U in?

ME: Functionally asleep. Goodnight. Been lights-out for almost an hour now.

HIM: What floor are you on again?

ME: Shuddap.

HIM: But I am in the elevator.

ME: You have a home to go to don't be weird like this.

HIM: The only weird part is that you don't want to f#ck me.

Me: You're being really weird now and by weird I mean illegal.

HIM: Okay, if U say so.


(SATURDAY/SUNDAY 2:10 A.M.)

HIM: Hi. Sex? I like it :)


(MONDAY, 6:09 P.M.)

HIM: Sorry about Saturday. I was drunk which is never an excuse! Sorry!


This evening New One and I are going to dinner and a movie. My phone will be turned off at night from now on.

A Day in the Life of DIW

In case you were wondering, yes, we all have our Dear Serial days.

frenchie: hi honeybun

serial: whaddup dollface??

frenchie: oh, nothing

i was going to get some advice on how to not respond to the boy

i just.... ugh. feel awful just flipping the ignore switch

serial: You already dumped him.

frenchie: i know!

and i think he's trying to worm his way back in or something?

i think he thinks it's working

serial: Poor guy.

frenchie: i know

serial: The only way to take the plunge is to stop replying completely

I mean, I wouldn't suggest that

if it weren't clear he's delusional

I've had more than one guy I dated for awhile

broke it off with

and then texted back and forth a little bit

Like, he'd send a friendly

thing and i'd reply nicely

made it easier when I ran into him on the street

frenchie: yeah...

serial: but his courtesy has run its course.

No mas.

frenchie: maybe he's not delusional? i dunno.
he just seems way too caring

i don't like it

serial: I feel like I'm missing something

why wouldn't you ignore him?

Because it'll hurt his feelings?

frenchie: because he's nice and he means well

yeah

it would be a weird blow to him for me just not to answer

serial: Well then you could always lie to him

Ignore him for a week

then say

"Sorry I haven't been replying, just really busy"

then ignore him for two

(or, you know, baby steps)

frenchie: hmm. that could work

serial: He'll know you're lying

but that's OK

It eases the blow of being ignored a bit

But when you say

"sorry I haven't been replying"

and he replies to that

you must NOT RESPOND

frenchie: ahhhh

true

serial: even to direct questioning

frenchie: i see

serial: That's my advice

frenchie: i kinda want to say "you give me both the heebies and the jeebies now. please go away"

Am I crazy or is he creepy?

I can't tell. I was just sitting there, minding my business late in the week, trying very hard not to beat my head against my keyboard, when an IM popped up on my screen.

He says:
Hey! Whatre you doing?

She says:
whipping some stuff out before I get out of here
and then tomorrow's FRIDAY

He says:
Yes it is!!! WOO HOO!!!!
big plans this holiday wekend?

She says:
Oh yeah
gardening
cleaning my floors
big stuff
Actually I might spend a night in a cabin on the Waccamaw
and do some kayaking
so that'll be good
Oh, you know, and being pious, of course
You?

He says:
LOL>...of course!!!
well...I cleaned floors last weekend so thais done...YEAH!!!
a little golf Frdiay and Saturday mongings...

She says:
Oh nice

He says:
and I do have to clean out the garage one day...BOOOOO

She says:
I hate chores

He says:
me too...

She says:
Why did I think they'd go away when I grew up?
I think I need to have kids. Make them start doing some dishes.

He says:
they just get more and more and more

She says:
srrsly

He says:
we need FUN in our life...hhhmmmmm

This is where I start to feel squeamish. I mean, OK. I like fun. But that long "hhhmmmmmm" felt like a hot breath across a phone line, right? That's not fun. It certainly ain't sexy. So I tried to keep it light and jokey. I figure, can't we all agree that work sucks, eh? Eh?

She says:
Oh, what, like work isn't FUN for you?
It doesn't bring you enough JOYJOYJOY?

He says:
there you go again..scarcasim...I LOVE IT!

She says:
I just can't help it
I'm glad someone around here appreciates it

He says:
I do...let it FLY!!!

She says:
ha
I still have to figure out different types of humor.
Not everyone thinks I'm hilarious, apparently.

He says:
i find you hilarous and interesting...

I don't want bald, married guys my dad's age to find me interesting. Especially if they can't spell for shit. Again, I retort with a joke.

She says:
Me, too!
That's why we get along

There's a pause, so I think it's over. Oh, no.

He says:
so.,...
tell me something unique

Um, what? Is this how old people flirt? Is he that bored? I hardly know this guy. He works in a different building. (I think his WIFE works in my building though.) Are we all of a sudden on Match.com? I play it safe by playing stupid.

She says:
??

He says:
lol
see...you haven't figured me out yet...I am haviong a tought ime with an outage over here and thoiught I would settle my stress by being silly wiht you
sorry

She says:
ahhhhh
I'm slow sometimes

He says:
not a problem...

OK, DIW. What is this? Am I being paranoid? Is he just so well-meaning and innocent and I'm the one projecting? Should I avoid this guy?

Broken

Date number 2 with my latest consisted of watching the Super Bowl together. Why, you may ask? Because that's when he had time off and I freaking love football. (Longtime listeners out West may not understand how a real lady can be such a fan of such a sport, but trust this one when she tells you that all the real Southern girls are. And thankfully, the more you know, the more men down here love it.)

Anyway, as Fergie and Will.I.Am. came on stage, my boy muted the TV and came up with a plan to make better use of the upcoming twenty minutes, wink wink. As most of the country wondered if Fergie would pee her pants, things got warmer between us. He took off his glasses, and I shed a sweater. Hands wandered, moans escaped, and we spent the intermission making very good use of our time.

Since I'm all romantic and shit, I pulled the dude move and started watching the game over his shoulder as we kept making out. Classy, right? When I squealed during a good play that didn't coincide with any sweet move of his, my boy realized what was going on. Busted. He understood, though, and we straightened ourselves up and returned to the game, a little closer together on the sofa this time. As he went to put his glasses back on, they were nowhere to be found. Where were they eventually located, you may ask? Under my big ass, that's where. They were retrieved, arms akimbo, MUCH worse for their lack of wear.

This leads me to my point.

Y'all, please tell me that I'm not the only one who's done this? What have you broken in the name of passion? Leave me a comment about knocked over lamps, chipped teeth, shattered windows, and broken headboards. We're all in this together, after all.

The score is love-love...

We have a guest post from "Strobino" today. HAPPY DATING!

A woman had expressed interest in me on a popular dating site by "winking" at me. I looked at her profile, and saw her pictures and life stories. She seemed cool enough. I didn't see too much in common with her except that she liked playing tennis, but wasn't that great at it, and wanted to play more. That was the same as me.

A few emails later we had set up a tennis date. When we first met we made some small talk before taking the court, and everything seemed to be going well. However, about 15 minutes into the game she hit a shot that was clearly out, but she claimed was in. The dispute was minor at first, but I didn't want to just let it go, and it escalated. Realizing that I was being a little too stubborn for a first date I tried to play it off and give her the benefit of the doubt and said something playfully like "Ok, McEnroe it was in." All hell broke loose.

She ran around the net screaming "You fucking asshole! What the fuck is that supposed to mean!!?." She began hitting me with her racket as hard as she could clearly aiming for my face every time. For about a minute I made every effort to run away and block her blows, but she was a little quicker than me and kept cutting off my escape route. After she cut my hand with one of the swings with her racket (intended for my face) I cocked back and bashed her head with mine with a fair amount of force. She then cried and ran away. Later that night, I sent her an email saying "Just for the record it was out." I still haven't heard about a second date.

The Manwich

The night began with a "really very large" case of beer and a bottle of "really very cheap" gin.

My new Boyfriend had his Best Friend over and we set right into the task at hand: drinking everything in the house. After the usual pleasantries, we talked the usual BS, then turned on the music. What music? Whatever. Drunk people are very bad at making decisions. How much did I have to drink? I have no idea. I didn't care at the time. The beer was gone and the gin was hiding from us and there was MUSIC!

We were all three dancing in the living room and both the Boyfriend and his Best Friend had their shirts off and we were all three doing some lovely grindy-type thing. God Bless... um... whatever saint is in charge of the intoxicated. My Boyfriend was hot, his Best Friend was hotter: I could think that because I was really really drunk!!!! Yippee!! I decided to step out of the Manwich and maybe kinda...watch for a little bit. Yes, Boyfriend kept sexydancing with his Best Friend. Really hot, gay 100% Y Tu Mama Tambien moment right there in the living room. I finally understood WHY guys would want to watch two hot chicks making out at a bar. Young, shirtless... Amen!!! I slipped back into the lovely sweaty shirtless two man grindy thing because they were really taking this a little too far. I was making out with my Boyfriend... wait. Um. My Boyfriend was like a 29 waistband and... hugging this didn't feel like... HOLY CRAP NICE ABS!!!! Oh, sweet baby jeebus I was faced the wrong way. Yeah. But the Boyfriend noticed it too. Exit: Now Ex-Boyfriend. Me: Damn, what just happened? Best Friend: wanted to keep making out.

I'm not going to say that it was BECAUSE I'd been upstairs watching his porn while he was at work... but I had been. That was actually WAY more porn than I've ever seen. The one porno I had seen at the age of 20 made up the whole of my experience with the genre. I thought of it as field research, actually. The vast majority of it involved women with more than one man, so I guess a man's porn really doesn't have anything to do with his reality. Guys have always said that to me...

My very own pet stalker

Today's offering is a guest post from "hackneygirl". Happy Dating!

My first ever internet date. Yay! But me being me I should have known it couldn’t go well. And in fact I think I have managed to bag myself my very own personal stalker. WAY TO GO!

I ought to have clocked it earlier but I’m new to this game and his profile was very funny – dry and sarcastic – and his pics were pretty cute. His emails were short and to the point and he seemed keen to meet up rather than spending lots of time exchanging inane emails. My impression: alpha male, possibly quite arrogant but could be a lot of fun. So, to a backing track of alarm bells faintly tinkling, I agreed to meet him for a drink the following evening. And that’s when the trouble started.

8am. My phone buzzes. It’s a text seemingly checking I gave him a real number. Concerning. I reply with a one word affirmative.
8.10am. Another text. This time re-confirming the details of our date later on. I do not reply.

The uneasy feeling persists throughout the day but I am repeatedly reassured that everyone feels like this before their first internet date. Just go along! What’s the worst that can happen? Ok Dr. Pepper, fine, I’ll go!

6pm. Another text. ‘See you soon. x’ SERIOUSLY! I am going to bail if he sends me one more word. I send a matter of fact response. Definitely no kisses.
7pm. (we’re meeting at 8 and I am at this point waiting at a bus stop). Another text! This time saying he’s been delayed at work. So I ring him to find out if he’s a total loony or what. It rings out. I leave a message then head home. This guy has clearly never been out with a girl in his life.
8pm. Buzz, buzz. ‘Just leaving. Can be there in 5 mins.x’ Dude, did you not listen to my message – I’ve gone home for pete’s sake!
8.05pm. He rings me. It takes me FIFTEEN whole minutes to get him off the phone in which time he has repeatedly tried to find out where I live, offered to come and meet me near my house, asked me out for dinner on every single night of the next two weeks (it’s amazing how busy I am all of a sudden) and extracted a promise that I’ll check my diary and get back to him.
10.30pm. Unbelievably, he texts again. Not being insane myself I do not reply.
2am. Yes, you read that right, 2 o clock in the am, he messages me online to explain, yet again, what held him up. I will have to block his profile. He’s not going to like that.

So, I remain an internet virgin and very likely the object of some disturbed fantasy. I am also probably going to have to change my phone number. Do I feel just a little bit grubby and freaked out? Yes I do. Am I going to quit internet dating? Of course not! Or not yet anyway… *

*Since writing this post he has settled into a routine of texting me every morning at 9am with a new angle on why he didn’t make it to our date and the myriad ways he would like to make it up to me. It’s kind of comforting. I might even miss him when he stops.

Cops

Why did I think it would be a good idea to date a cop?

Sure, he was kind of cute. Sort of funny. A stitch mouthy. But honestly, at that point, I'd go out on a date or two with just about anyone who asked. I felt like I had to give everyone a chance. I felt like at that point in my life, I'd made such bad decisions in relationships, it was time to challenge all of my assumptions. And who knows? People can be surprising. Right?

On my second date with Abe the cop, we were driving downtown, and I was in the front seat of his car, which, coincidentally, is the same year, make and model as my car. (Was that part of the attraction? That he had good taste in cars?) He wanted to stop by his house before he took me home, so I could meet his dog (He owned a house. I think that was a big part of it. I was curious about dating a responsible guy, I guess. Slightly older. Maybe looking for something long-term?), but as we drove down the left lane of one-way street, we passed by a cop car driving slowly in the right lane. My date slowed down his car and rolled down my window using his driver-side controls.

“What the hell are you doing, harassing some punks?” he shouted across me as I tried to impress the back of my head into the headrest.

“Abe! You son of a bitch!” the on-duty cop shouted from behind his mirrored sunglasses and moustache. “Are you drunk driving?”

“Hell yeah!” Abe laughed.

Then they proceeded to chat for another minute. Across my face. While I stared dead ahead, mortified. I live in a small town. Someone I know could've walked by at any moment, and I knew I'd be horrified if someone saw me in that position. I think that’s exactly when I decided I’m not the kind of girl who dates cops.

The problem is, you can't live it down. Months later, I was out on the town with a new one I was just getting to know. It was a sweet summer night, and we'd ridden our bikes, loving the gorgeous weather and anticipating a few too many beers. As we strolled and chatted, we walked by a couple of cops on the corner. I realized too late one was Abe.

We exchanged a friendly hello (I almost always let fellas down easy) and I continued walking with my new beau.

"Um, how do you know that cop?" Beau asked.

I had to 'fess up. Fortunately, Beau was understanding. Everyone has a few skeletons in the closet. Some of them just happen to be cops.

Twyla

We have a guest post from "D" today.  Happy Dating!

I can still remember dear sweet Twyla (not her real name). Twyla was a teller at the bank I went to and she was kind of cute. Not the kind of cute that made me want to hop the counter, explore the vault and make a deposit, but more like a Kia Sophia rental car. I wanted to race it across town, burn the wheels off and then return it, no strings attached.

I flirted, she flirted back. I suggested going for a drink, she giggled. The warm up was good; I was just waiting to put it in drive.

Well, I got her number and said I would call in a few days. You might imagine my shock then when she called me the next night. Are you wondering why I didn’t mention that she got my number too? Well, that’s because I never gave it to her, she just went into the computer at work and got it from there…yea, no kidding.

Now I’m guessing psycho but I decide to play along because I’m still thinking Kia rental so what the hell. We agree to meet at this dive of a diner (absolute shit hole) for coffee. Prior to going I mentioned to my roomy that he needed to call me in an hour and a half and give me an out….just in case.

So what happens next is right out of Springer. I walk in, find Twyla, approach the table and discover that it’s a party of 3. Sitting comfortably in his car seat is a 6 month old baby boy. Next I’m told that Twyla’s mom and dad are sitting in the booth behind us…they are apparently there because Twyla does not drive and therefore needed a ride. I am then told that the parents decided to stay and have dinner because well, why not eat at this great establishment, you know you want to.

I struggled for the right words at first and probably made an ass of myself but Twyla was cool and seemed relatively peeved that mom and dad had stayed…although she was not too concerned about the effect of baby boy. After a sip of sumptuous diner coffee (made for old people with no taste buds), I started asking about baby. It turns out that dad split the minute he found out that Twyla was preggo and Twyla was not shy that she was looking for a “daddy” to help raise the little man.

At about that point my pecker had begun to head home. Willy was already pissed that some other guy had stolen the Kia idea but my brain and Willy don’t talk much so I got the message late.

Tips for Flirting with People Behind the Desk

I'm not really going to get into specifics, but I have a job where I work behind a desk.  My job is helping you find stuff, and I am supposed to be friendly and open and cheery and I happen to dress kinda cute most of the time.  People... some people... don't get that this is my job and I am like that to everyone.  Ladies in my profession are frequently the object of Craigslist Missed Connections and all sorts of other misplaced crushes.  Just because you have a card with my e-mail on it: don't send me drunken fanmail emails at 12:30 a.m. on a Sunday because I DON'T have a clue who you are. 

I recently found myself flirting with a really really cute guy.  He was at his work.  It happened to be at a phone place, so in order to test my phone service he called my phone... like three times... just to check.  Now, honestly, the last thing I need in my life is ANOTHER guy to muck up the works, but Rebound Mojo is a bitch.  Instead of dwelling on my overwhelming knee-jerk reaction to text him, I am going to write a posting.

Tips for Flirting with People Behind the Desk.

1. This person is at work.
2. This person is probably bored.
3. This person is providing you with excellent customer service.
4. This person probably has a supervisor watching them.
5. This is first and foremost a commercial or educational interaction.
6. Any personal information gleaned from this exchange is null and void for personal use.
7. The way to ask someone out on a date is to ASK THEM OUT ON A DATE.

Have a really nice day. Come back soon!

Out of the woodwork

How is it that ex-lovers and former flames know when you're no longer available?

At a bar the other night, I ran into the Captain. More than a year ago, I had met him through a friend. That night, I ended up at his house, on the couch, drunk, while my friend was getting it on with Captain's roommate (they preferred to call it "housemates" because they don't share a room, but finding it important to make that distinction just seems vaguely homophobic to me). At some point, I said I was cold, and he offered to snuggle. Sweet. Then I started in about how I was worried about my new puppy who was home alone in her crate, and he offered to drive me to my house to let her out. I accepted. We chatted while he drove me home, and I impressed him by knowing about Stereolab. When we got to my house, he impressed me by knowing who Frida Kahlo is. He stayed the night. More snuggling, a little making out. In the morning, we exchanged phone numbers.

For the next month, I threw myself at him. At one point I literally climbed into his bed and took my clothes off. Nothing. There was some making out, but I didn't even get laid. He never called me, and I refused to call him. Eventually, I gave up. We ran into each other from time to time over the next year or so, and I pretended I hadn't been totally rejected.

But now that I'm deliriously happy with a hotass new boyfriend (with a sexy accent)?

I ran into Captain at a concert. We chatted, he flirted his ass off. He acknowledged that he'd gained weight, referenced his new "man boobs." He said he'd since given up smoking pot. He had a new job and got to travel. At one point I said something particularly charming, and he smiled and said, "Will you be my girlfriend?"

I laughed.

"Seriously? You had your chance. Too late."

"I know, I really fucked that up. I'm sorry."

"What?"

"Oh, you know."

"No, you can't apologize for something if you're not even willing to admit what it was."

"I'm sorry I blew it with you and didn't ask you to be my girlfriend. I should have."

I was surprised he said it.

"Yeah, you are sorry," I said. "I'm a pretty rad girlfriend."

Messy First Impressions

I met my steady beau's parents for the first time over the holidays this year. Everything was great. They loved me, I loved them, presents were exchanged, etc.

So I was feeling pretty solid when a few days into the visit, beau and I have sex in the spare bedroom. I'm on my period, so we put a towel down. At one point in the whole romp I feel a bit more wetness than normal but I think whatever, there's a towel..

Oops.

When we're done doing the deed, I get up to examine the towel and sheets. And there are three bright red spots on the top sheet. Three more bright red spots on the under sheet. And three more bright red spots on the down comforter thinger on top of the mattress. Thankfully there weren't any on the actual mattress.

Mortified. Absolutely mortified at not only the three bright red spots but also the fact that beau has to tell his mother that I started my period and had an accident. (No fucking way are we telling her what it was actually from.)

I can overhear their conversation, in which he actually says "______ had her period last night and it got on the sheets. She's mortified." and somehow the level of embarrassment increases ten-fold.

Beau's mom handles it like a champ. She's nice and says its no big deal, gives me a hug and sends us on our way for the day. When we return, the sheets are all clean with no sign of last night's mess.

Ok, great. No problem. Handled that. But then the next morning, I wake up to find black spots all over the pillow case.

My fucking hair dye from three weeks ago stained the pillow case. I had gone to bed with my hair wet and apparently there was still dye left all these weeks later.

Fucking hell. No way am I taking the fall on this one so I insist that beau take responsibility and say it's his dirty working man's hands that caused the spots.

Whether or not beau's mother believed him, I wasn't around to find out.

Before eHarmony

Tweezed Out

**Today's guest post comes in from "G. Ross"**

I'm sick of DIW. Sorry to say, but I am. It has way too many stories from chicks who just rip on dudes. Makes me wonder if it's become a front for a bunch of angry dykes who don't know how to actually be with a man.

I digress.

I'm sending this story in about a woman I began dating a few months ago to try and offset all the male-bashing going on. This site used to be better. It used to have stories from guys about the very real phenomenon of crazy chicks. What happened? Where'd c.vance go? My father always taught me that if you're going to bitch about something then you better be prepared to try and fix it. So here's to you pops.

S**** and I began dating after a heavy night of drinking. Blah blah...one night stand...turned into a first date....and here we are hanging out four months later. She's a cool girl. Into a lot of the same stuff I am. Doesn't run her mouth too much and when she does, it's not complete inane blathering. So she's got that going for her.

Everything's been going great. Good sex. Decent conversation. Not overly clingly. Just great. Until a few nights ago when I walked in on her in the bathroom.

Now my pops also told me that women have bags of tricks that men should never, ever try to open. This is what makes them female, he said. Appreciate the magic but don't try to understand the magic. Apparently the bathroom is where women practice their magic. Wish he had told me that one.

We'd just finished having sex and S**** jumped out of bed to "freshen up" as women-folk like to say. Ok, fine. Whatever. About 12 minutes go by. My need to pee is pretty intense by now. I originally thought she'd take no more than 5 minutes. How much water do you need to splash down there to freshen up ladies?

How wrong I was.

I finally say fuck it and knock on the bathroom door. No answer. Dude. I need to piss. Bad. So I say fuck it again and open the door.

S**** is kneeling on top of the sink, inches away from the mirror, plucking hairs from her nipples. She screams when I walk in and falls off the counter. I am so startled I just stand there, mouth gaping.

She begins yelling at me about fucking knocking and bum rushes me out of the bathroom. I am too bewildered by what I saw to do anything except allow her to shoo me out. I go to the porch and take a leak off the side of it. Thank god for dicks.

We haven't discussed it. Thank god. It's weird though. The image in burned into my mind. Sometimes it flashes while we're having sex and I go to suck on her tits. Weird dude. Fucking weird. Chicks are weird.

Dear Serial: I humped my friend's husband

Dear Serial,

Apparently, a friend of mind just found out I fucked her husband. Thing is, it only happened one time, and it was years and years ago. I mean, it happened more than 10 years ago. It happened before they even got together, it was before I even got together with my now husband. Now, we’re all really good friends and have been for years, but recently, she’s saying weird stuff like, “sometimes you just wish you didn’t know things” and just being kind of strange towards me.

I told my husband about that pity-fuck years ago, he’s not upset. What should I say to my friend?

Thanks,
Married and not going there ever again

Dear MANGTEA (that’s kind of funny, at first when I looked at that, I thought it said Mangenta, which would clearly be a hot new color in men’s wear, much more masculine than purple),

Don’t say a thing. You did your duty and disclosed your long-forgotten pity fuck to your husband; it was pally over there’s job to tell HIS wife about any potentially-awkward fucks, oh, I dunno, maybe before they got married? That is, of course, if he was going to tell her. There’s a certain point at which, if you haven’t mentioned it already, you should just let the fuck lie.

Plus, what if you say something, and that’s not what she was talking about? Especially if he hasn’t told her? That conversation’s going to be fun. “Oh, you were talking about how you finally noticed that I dog-eared your grandmother’s copy of Gone With the Wind? Oh. Heh. Well nevermind all that about fucking your husband. Oh, and the “pity” thing? What did I mean by that? Well certainly did not mean that I’m more attractive than your husband or that he was super desperate in the period leading up to him getting with you. No. Not at all.”

Leave it be, Mangenta.

Love,

Serial




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