Craigslist Personals - girl who dumped me over the phone at 1:30 am - m4w

Date: 2009-01-18, 1:57AM

You called me at 1:30 AM to tell me over and over that you don't want to be with me any more. The problem is, I don't know who you are, and I tried to explain that.

In retrospect, it would have been more fun to play along, but I was a bit too groggy to think fast. Oh well, next time a wrong number breaks up with me, I'll be ready.

Give me a call if you want to practice dumping guys, I guess my number's probably in your phone now. Try to call before 10 though.

* Location: 818
* it's NOT ok to contact this poster with services or other commercial interests

http://www.craigslist.org/about/best/lax/997392217.html

The Perfect First Date

**Editors' Note: Today's guest post comes from "Terry Tucker" about the winner she met one night.**

A club below Santa Cruz, drinking and listening to music with a group of friends. Late in the evening, a solitary male walks in and parks himself at the next table. He catches my eye, and we invite him over to join us. Good looking guy with a scruffy beard. Just before closing time, he mentions his nightly/early-morning newspaper delivery route in the Santa Cruz mountains….starting in less than an hour, do I want to join him? Of course.

We pick up the newspapers just before 3:00am and head out, fortified with stimulants he just happens to have handy. Soon wildly careening down backroad corridors, alternating the paper stuffing, a wonderful rhythm, chatting our heads off, totally wired. A couple of stops where he grabs paper and package, runs inside the cabins, quickly returns. Delivery to the door for invalids and shut-ins, he explains. What a guy. Not just that, but he took them something extra, probably food, and delivered inside. Talk about trust.

It occurs to me that this is the perfect type of first date. A shared activity that brings a strong sense of teamwork, connection…..the conversation so easy. It should always be like this. That’s when I realize I'm buzzing on something special. I like it. The route takes about 3 hours, is over like that.

We wheel into a breakfast café still in the Santa Cruz mountain area, Felton I think. The locals seem to know him, and greet him as they filter in. He gets up and works the room while I tie into an omelet. So popular, almost everyone knows him, wants a piece of his time. A overheard fragment of conversation from the next table, then it hits me, and slowly sinks in.

The fatal flaw. My ex was a dealer, too.

It Would Be Better If This Were a Friends Episode

**Editors' Note: Today's guest post hails from "Rachel" who wants us to know she doesn't get paid a million dollars to deal with this crap.**

So the first time I was approached about contributing to DIW I had to carefully explain that I couldn’t really contribute since I hadn’t actually dated. Yes, I was about 8 months in to my first serious relationship (lasted 15 mos. Boo-ooring!), but everything before had been pretty much the same: he’s cool, we start hanging out alone together, he acts weird, I go out of town and I never call when I get back. All in less than 3 weeks. That just didn’t seem DIW worthy. That’s when I learned that you don’t have to have officially dated the person, just tell us some crazy relationship shit. Oh! In that case, I’m totally in.

You know how on Friends they had the whole “We Were On a Break!” thing? Mine is “I Don’t Think We Should Do This Anymore”. And just like on Friends I can say it and all my friends know what I’m talking about. And just like on Friends, it never quite gets to the “we will laugh about this one day” stage. Its always just as awkward and hurtful as the day he said it.

So you should probably know that while we weren’t dating, 88 and I were sleeping together pretty regularly. We were good old-fashioned fuck buddies, there for each other at all the right times (ex: After bar time). Oh, we were also really great friends. But that’s what friends do in college; they sleep together. And if they are a really great friend, they’ll be ok with no strings attached and they won’t get all emotional on you every time they down a 12-pack. So that was us—really great friends. And I think we must have been sleeping together for about a year before things got ugly the first time.

I could totally feel it coming; things just weren’t feeling as friendly between us as they had been. I knew it. He knew it. I knew that he knew it. You know. But less than friendly sex with your FB is better than no sex at all. Apparently that only holds true until your FB girl (me) shows up to your house shit faced off tequila and with a group of friends.

It was a friend’s birthday and we had been at a Mexican restaurant doing the obligatory underage “pitcher of margarita/flirting with the waiter” thing. And I was properly shit faced. I can’t give you great details about the first half of the night at his house other than at one point, I was mummified in scotch tape, I opened a bunch of flavored condoms that were in a bowl on the counter and tried to get people to taste them, and my wallet was missing for about a week. What I can tell you is just about every single thing that happened after 3 am that night.

I ended up passing out in his bed of course and somewhere around 3 am I got that half-asleep sex nudge. You know, you’re both still kind of sleeping, but you still know you want to have sex, so you fumble around for a bit until you wake up going at it?! I know I don’t have to explain that to this crowd.

So I got the nudge and I responded and I was fine with it. He, apparently, was not. It wasn’t more than 15-20 seconds after we finished, we’re both totally naked, I’m laying on top of him, resting a minute, when he said the words that have come to define an entire period of my life:

“I don’t think we should do this anymore”.

He said it with the kind of slight hesitation that you know he had been practicing it over in his head and for just a second he had to make sure that this time he was saying it out loud. That’s it. No, “I think we need to talk”, no “I think you should put your clothes back on”. Just, “I know I just initiated this sex, but now I got what I want and am ready to humiliate you”

Ok, that might not be word for word, memory can be a tricky thing. But I got up, I gave him a little “Are you fucking kidding me that you did this right now, like this? You’re the one who started this.” speech, I put my clothes back on and I went home. I’m not totally sure, but I’m guessing I was starting to cry at this point too. I know myself and I was sort of drunk, it was the middle of the night, and I just got broken up with by my non-boyfriend. That’s usually the kind of thing I would start crying over.

So I left. But I didn’t get in my car and drive home like a nice self-respecting girl would do. I didn’t have my car there so I stomped out the front door and started to walk the 7 blocks back to my apartment at 4 in the morning. And I had gotten about a block and a half before I realized I had forgotten my shoes at his apartment.

So now comes my mental debate: Is it better to turn back now and have to walk a few extra blocks and get the shoes, or wait until morning and have to call and ask for them back?

I turned around and retrieved my shoes, deciding I’m still a little drunk right now and can probably pull this off better now than when we all sober up in the morning. And I was pretty sure I didn’t want to talk to this asshole again for quite a while. So I walk back into his house, announce that I’m not returning to talk to him, only to get my shoes, and I walk right back out the door.

And I never slept with him again.

Actually, that was about 4 years ago and we finally ended things last week. You’re probably going to be hearing from me again.

Worst One Night Stand Ever

**Editors' Note: Found this little story from across the Atlantic. Holy shit. **

Wayne Fisher looks like your typical early 20-something guy:


Wayne likes to drink, likes to fuck, and enjoys taking some Valium every now and again to cut loose, according to a story in the Daily Mail. His tastes lean toward the pretty, young, attractive girls at the clubs as evidenced by Dominique Fisher, a young lady he went home with:


According to the story, Wayne went home with Dominique after meeting at a club. They had both had a few drinks, Wayne had taken some Valium, and they bumped uglies in the bikini area, as the saying goes.

But when Wayne woke up, something was horribly, horribly wrong. He was covered in blood and found this:



And these:



"When I woke I was covered in blood. Dominique was snoring. I just had to get out of there. I didn't even wake her to ask what she'd done," Wayne told reporters.

Jesus H. Christ.

Needless to say, Wayne high tailed it out of there and called the police. Dominique was arrested, charged and found guilty of "unlawful wounding." (God I love the British vernacular.) She has yet to be sentenced.

Next time you think of going home with that pretty thing from the bar, think of Wayne.