5 Things I've Learned From My Lingerer ...

One day, while chatting away with ma' ladies, Spinda and Pepa (for the record, those aren’t their real names.  I’ve changed their names for their protection, because I’m considerate like that), Pepa gets messaged by not one, but TWO Lingerers!!!  Picture if you will, a sort of surprise gang-bang (Not that I’m familiar.  I’m just assuming that that is how Pepa felt.  I’m almost positive that’s what it would feel like).  Anyway, what is a Lingerer, you ask?  Well, a lingerer is usually a wierdo that can't take a hint and refuses to go away.  It really doesn’t matter how much you ignore him, there is just no stopping someone with that much determination.  He will often times throw you a curve ball and disappear for days or even weeks at a time, but just when you think he’s forgotten all about you, BOOM – you get that message from him.  There it is in all its glory.  That one-worded text message that has a way of making you want to set your phone on fire with a flame thrower ... the dreaded: HI!  It doesn’t matter how many times you tell them to leave you alone – they won’t even get mad or offended - in fact, they’ll ACTUALLY give you your space, but

eventually, they always come back – like a fucking boomerang.

Meeting all kinds of (crazy) people when you are single is just part of the dating ride.  Most of the time, you exchange numbers with someone and nothing comes from it.  Sometimes, we get a good friend out of it, but very seldom do we get a Lingerer.  My Lingerer is kind of special and not in that romantic kind of way, more like in that crazy asshole kind of way.  We hung out and it just didn’t work out (perhaps because he had a girlfriend that he forgot to tell me about, who he was fighting with at the time ... Asshole).   But besides that little indiscretion, there was nothing more to it … or so I thought (please refer to pictures 1 through 4 ... crazy).

Although the conversations between "Too-Tall P" and myself are quite short (to say the least) and it is obvious that nothing beautiful will ever blossom between us, I can actually say that I have learned some things
from my Lingerer.  I have compiled a list below ... You're welcome.

The 5 Things I've Learned From My Lingerer:
1. He's a fucking psycho
2. He apparently likes pinups and likes to fuck hard and fuck fast ... triple threat!
3. He has an abnormally huge penis (image has been shielded from readers eyes - sorry y'all)
4. I don't like surprise penis pics.  Unless I personally request a photo, please keep that shit to yourself!!!
5. Never, ever, EVER send inappropriate texts to someone, unless you are in a committed relationship with them (i.e. long term boyfriend and/or husband), because you never know what the other person will do with those texts, i.e. BLOG ...I can't stress this enough - JUST DON'T DO IT PEOPLE!!!

I can't stand m Lingerer anymore; he is fucking annoying (but unintentionally funny).  No matter how much I ignore him (as you can see), I can't get rid of him and I REFUSE to change my number!!! Although I may have lost this battle y'all, I WILL NOT LOSE THE WAR!!!

The struggle continues ...

Karma Is a Greedy Whore and She’s Taking All the Men

Just like every little girl out there, I too grew up thinking that I would be married, most likely, by the time I was 25 years old.  I blame all those Disney movies for stuffing unrealistic garbage in my head.  For a long time, I truly believed that maybe, just maybe, if I made myself drown at the beach, a handsome prince (or lifeguard) would save me and gracefully sweep me off my feet and carry me into the sunset in his strong tattooed arms and we would live happily ever after … The End.  What Disney failed to tell us is that not every guy we meet in life is going to be a rich, handsome prince (that’s still single).  Sometimes, he’s still married and wants you as his side piece, or sometimes he has a lot of emotional baggage and is afraid to commit, and SOMETIMES, he just doesn’t have his shit together and working (God forbid) is just an unfathomable idea.  Where are those movies!?!?  Are they locked up somewhere in the Disney vault???  For some little girls, that perfect dream came true, but as for me?  Well … I’m still dreaming.  At 25, instead of getting married to the love of my life, I was breaking up with him after 6 long years.  Fast forward 5 years later and here I am, 30 years old and frantically searching for “the one” (and I say frantically because it sounds more dramatic that way).  But let’s just be honest here, if your future husband was suddenly kidnapped and being tortured in some prison camp, I’m sure you wouldn’t be sitting at home painting your nails.  Because seriously – where else could he be?  It’s the only logical explanation. 

Now, I want to clarify one thing, I am 30 years old and I KNOW that technically, I am NOT old and that I still have my entire life ahead of me and things will happen when they are meant to happen … blah, blah, blah, bullshit, bullshit and more bullshit, but honestly, it really sucks being one of the last boy-friend-less, relationship-less, childless people in your family.  My favorite question is, “So?  When is it your turn Nat?” *rolls eyes*.  Obviously, not any time soon and thanks for the reminder dick.  I don’t respond like that out loud because my mom raised me better than that, but that’s what I would say, if I knew my mom wasn’t going to beat me for being rude and disrespectful.

I don’t want you guys to read this and think that I’m walking around like that little wind-up doll, with a black cloud over my head in that commercial for Pristiq (am I even allowed mentioning products on here?  Am I going to get sued?  Great, now I’ll be a 30 year old single female, depressed and millions of dollars in debt.  Maybe Pristiq will sponsor me instead, for advertising them on my blog unintentionally and after they sue me they can help ease my depression with some free pills).  Anyway, the point here people is that I’m not depressed, I’m generally a pretty happy person, I actually enjoy being single very much.  I do what I want, when I want and I have no one to answer to.  I can go out and party my ass off or sit at home and drink a bottle of wine by myself or watch sappy movies all night and cry until my eyes look like they were attacked by a family of wasps.  I can be selfish and think about ONLY myself – I love that.  I just have my moments where I sit and wonder if I’m being punished for the shit I’ve done in my life (some of which I’m not proud of).  Although I know that this is a terrible way of thinking, there is a small part of me that strongly believes that Karma is acting like a vindictive whore and she is coming at me – full force.  I have my issues, I won’t deny that, but I also think I have a lot to offer.  Apparently the guys I’ve been dating are blind, because they can’t see the kind of lady I have the potential to be (if you look past the drinking and cursing, I know she is in there somewhere) … I guess everyone is right though, maybe it’s just not my time.

I spent this weekend not on any dates, but rather in the company of some good friends, drinking, overeating and dishing out some good stories about our experiences with the opposite sex.  Conclusion: Guys suck and girls are fabulous.  As we discussed our dating disasters, my friend stumbled upon this little gem of a deal in her LivingSocial email - for a speed dating event.  Amidst all the drinking and guy bashing, the Gods were finally giving in!!!  After some extensive research on the event, I realized the following:

          1. I now fall into the 30-43 year old bracket.  I used to love dating guys 10 years + older than me ... That now means dating guys in their 40's.  OUCH.
          2. The entire month of June for HurryDate is already booked!?!?  What. The fuck.  The competition is getting fierce.  At this rate, it’s time I considered adopting a cat or 10 … or maybe I need to work on learning some MMA fighting just in case I need to take a bitch down at this speed dating event.  I’m hoping I don’t have to resort to the later, but if Ariel, Jasmine, and Mulan all fought for love, why cant I?

Although I’m not THAT crazy about this speed dating idea, the truth is, I’m secretly hoping to find someone there just as fucked up as I am.  Who knows?  Maybe we will hit it off and I’ll be able to ask him how he was able to escape the prison camp and find his way here to me and then we will run off into the sunset, with our speed dating ID badges still intact and live happily ever after.  The end.

Look at that sunset!  This could be us ... I'm at a loss for words.

JB, At This Point, Let’s Just Lie About the Fact THAT We Met

Remember when I went on about how great online dating CAN be?  Well, sometimes, it’s not.  Here’s my disclaimer:  Online dating can suck because sometimes you get a real winner and his name is JB or asshole … it really depends.

On Mother’s Day, I received a lovely little text from JB.  The text went something along the lines of, “I’m sorry for the way I acted ... I was drunk and nervous (deadly combination if I do say so) … We are different, but I would like to go out with you again so we can really get to know each other”.  Really get to know each other?  As in rubbing your balls up against my OTHER thigh?  Although I love a good adventure, sometimes, you just have to know when to say no.  I put my big girl panties on and decided that I should just be upfront with JB and let him down like an adult. 

**Please refer to the attached photographs to see the painful deterioration of that supposed adult conversation.**

For once, I actually tried to be honest in a tactful, respectful way and it backfired.  This only supports my theory: When in doubt, just flake.  I’d rather be a flaky bitch, than get cursed out by a guy that can't even distinguish the difference between my fucking eyebrows and eyelashes.  I almost want to send JB a picture of the two and label it - with like neon colors and flashing lights.  I mean really …

Just a little side note here: Despite the deadbeat Bouncer (who apparently threw away my number like it was a filthy napkin) and JB, I did come across some interesting guys on my online profile and by interesting - I mean they don’t look crazy (my favorites are the profile pictures that look like they were taken at your local county jail).  Not that I don’t have my own issues, but a girl's gotta have her standards – just saying.  OH! I also love the guys that put up pictures and say things like, “me sitting in my car”; “me sitting by a tree”; “me walking into a bar”.  First of all, I would like to commend you on your amazing creativity.  Secondly, thank you for the descriptions – I wouldn’t want to misinterpret what’s happening in the photo.  I’m sure you’re probably asking yourself, “What the hell is she talking about?  What the hell does the title have to do with any of this”?  Please, allow me to explain.  It doesn’t.  I’m just angry now and I needed to write down my thoughts.  I think I need an online dating break.

But, please, let's get back to JB.  WTF JB.  Your Third Eye!?!  Well excuse me Cyclops ... and let me just say this, your third eye needs to go to the optometrist because it failed to see how you practically violated my body.  Explain that one JB!?! ... and WHAT do you mean you sensed that I don't know what I want - IT WAS A FIRST DATE!!!! How could you know!?  How could anyone know!?  You could barely hear what I was saying through the loud music and screaming.  I'll tell you what I DIDN'T want ... Your balls - in my personal space.  Oh and this is my favorite: " Thank God, I didn't take you to Dave and Busters".  Whoa ... slow down Oprah - not sure I'm ready for all that big-time spending.  "Woulda" "Dic" ... That's all I have to say about that.

I feel quite confident that this is the last I'll be hearing of JB.  I'm sorry that it had to end on such a bad note ... but seriously JB, I wouldn't be here if it wasn't for you.  Thank you for the great stories!  Asshole.

Feasting in Brooklyn on a Friday

I went on a dinner date on Friday.  I have nothing bad to report!  It was a great dinner with great company!  Seriously, the food was excellent.  It was so good, that if the guy wasn’t there, I would have crawled underneath the table and licked the plate clean, which is weird because I never eat on a date.  I can’t let these men see how I get down!!! I’m a lady and I have morals.

Allow me to give you a little glimpse into my dinner dates:  We meet up and order some drinks.  Friendly banter and routine date questions. Appetizer.  More drinks.  More friendly banter and now some laughing.  Drinks.  Enter waitress with dinner.  I stare at dinner.  More routine date questions.  I take a bite of chicken and slowly chew on a piece of lettuce because, “I’m just not that hungry”.  I’m fucking starving.  Drown out hunger pangs with more drinks … and 5 glasses of water.  Speed walk to restroom.  Come back and take another bite of chicken.  One more drink. More conversation and laughs.  End date.  Nine times out of ten, this is what usually happens and more often than not, after these dates, I find myself in the Jetta on a high level of tipsy, starving and stationed in the dimly lit corner of the parking lot at Taco Bell inhaling 3 mexi-melts and a burrito supreme …

… But not on Friday; I threw my morals out the window that day.  Maybe it was because I had been dieting for the past month; maybe because Mexican food is my favorite or maybe because I simply gave up on life after ‘Fight Night with JB’ (seriously, how long does it take to recover from the trauma?).  And let me just ask you this: um, where is the bouncer, because he STILL hasn’t texted me! 

Anywho … my first embarrassing moment of ‘Feasting in Brooklyn on a Friday’ was during the appetizer.  Who knew that guacamole and chips could be so heavenly?  I just let the guy talk and talk as I chomped away, devouring every nacho in sight.  Thank God for our waitress and that extra basket of nachos, because if his fingers would have so much as pointed in my direction …

Eventually, it was my turn to speak.  I gently dabbed the sides of my mouth and wiped the crumbs off my lips to speak my first words ... And then it happened.  A piece of nacho and guacamole shot right out of my mouth, like a rocket.  I’m still trying to remember where it landed.  Without skipping a beat I said, “OH my GOD, I just spit” and like a true gentlemen, he smirked, grabbed his napkin and tried to wipe up the piece of my dignity that maybe landed on our table? The floor? Back in the GUACAMOLE BOWL!?! And so, dinner continued with great conversation, good laughs and some funny stories.  I got so comfortable talking to this guy that in the middle of my story-telling, I began flailing my arms about and knocked over my frozen margarita.  Not only did embarrassment and, I don’t know – nausea set in, but so did the liquid of what once was my alcoholic beverage, which was now starting to feel like it was eating through my clothes and sticking onto my skin.  I did what anybody in my situation would do – I avoided eye contact and kept speaking like nothing happened. Like a champ.

Dinner ended not too long after that, but not because of my mishaps, I had to actually call it a night because of an exam I was taking early the next morning.  All this got me thinking … Here I am, starting a blog about my bad dates and I guess the joke was on me all along while I was Feasting in Brooklyn on a Friday.

The struggle continues until the next date …

JB Strikes Again!!!

After three days, just as I was beginning to think that I had sexscaped JB - he called me.  I froze in silence as I watched my phone alert me with a bright flashing "Incoming call: JB"across the screen.  I decided to do the right thing and let it go to voice mail.  About two seconds after that, I got his text message that read, "Whatsup i called you but u didn't pick up".  Obviously ...(JB is just too smart for his own good).

I don't know, JB ... Maybe I didn't pick up because I am still healing from the emotional scars (of the surprise leg-humping) or perhaps from the physical battering that my feet were subjected to!  Because really, I haven't been able to wear a decent pair of shoes since Saturday due to the blisters that have formed on my toes.    Maybe I should be the bigger person here and just let him know that it's not going to work out, but I just find it much easier to ignore the problem and let it phase itself out.  Which reminds me ... I have yet to receive a call from the bouncer from Saturday night.

I almost feel bad, I do want to call JB and not have to flake on him.  I want to be able to explain that maybe it's best if we just go our separate ways, but he could barely understand it when I told him that the bar opens at 9pm ... It's just a disaster waiting to happen.

Don't get me wrong, I have to give JB some credit, maybe his intentions weren't in the right place but at least he wouldn't let me pay for anything, which I think says a lot about a person. I'm still not going to call him though.

And don't look so shocked - I've definitely been on that date where the guy has actually looked me right in the face and said, "Hey, ummmm, you wanna be a sport a chip in" (!?!?!!?!?!), we can call him 'Knight Rider'.  Oh and there was this other time where one guy, we can call him 'Chino Moreno', showed up for a dinner and had the nerve to tell me, "So, first you expect me to drive all the way out here and now you expect me to pay".  Now, I know this isn't 1950, but what the fuck guys - where's the respect???

Fight Night with JB

I had a date last night, which will be referred to as Fight Night with JB. I met JB on a popular online dating site, and after going back and forth for about a month, we decided to exchange numbers and eventually meet. 

Now, let me explain something to y’all, I’ve been on and off online dating sites since I broke up with J1 and for you skeptics, on-line dating can provide both positive and negative experiences, but the point is it allows for an array of choices and opportunities that you otherwise would not have access to in the real world. That’s just my opinion. I also have found that with online profiles, pictures aren’t always so accurate. Sometimes, the person looks way hotter or sometimes they are just a big mess. So my advice is: Keep an open mind, have fun, and make the most of it. 

Back to Fight Night with JB. We decided to meet up for our first date. Normally, when it comes to online dating, I like to suggest coffee meet-and-greets because you just never know, but JB decided to grab the bull by the horns and suggested that we go see the Mayweather fight. I had told JB that the bar wouldn’t open until 9pm, but there must have been some kind of language barrier because JB seemed to not understand me and insisted that we meet at 8pm … and so we did.  Shocker … The bar was closed. JB was almost offended that not only did he have to pay a cover charge, but that the bar expected him to wait until 9pm to enter!!! Now, I know I drink a lot, but I am almost 99% positive that I was sober when I specifically warned him that the bar wouldn’t open until 9pm. Well, here we were, with an hour to kill and JB thought it would be a great idea to walk around the city – FOR AN HOUR?! Thank God for low heels right? WRONG – by the end of that romantic stroll my feet were throbbing. The rest of the night was spent with us standing by the bar screaming things into each other’s ears and me sneaking off to the bathroom every so often to sit on the toilet and rest my feet for 5 mins while texting my girlfriends for advice on how to escape this nightmare. 

Some key moments that I DO remember from Fight Night with JB are:

          1. At one point, he suggested that we leave and go to Hooters. Now, I’m no prude, but on a first date? I’d rather go to a strip club and buy myself a nice little lap dance. When he saw the look on my face, he said OK, if anything, I have a bottle of wine that we can finish off in my car. WHAT?

          2. It became so crowded that JB was forced to stand extremely close to my body. That’s when the inappropriate grinding ensued. I know when it’s crowded in a bar, but I also know when I’m being grinded on and can we say … opportunistic much??

          3. Lastly, I noticed that JB had a habit of repeating himself. That’s OK – my brain spaces out from time to time as well. What did bother me was that JB kept asking me if my eyebrows were real. Yes – my EYEBROWS. SIDENOTE: He also asked if my teeth were real, because they were so white. After the 3^rd time, I realized that by eyebrows he meant eyelashes. I was so agitated at this point, I just said, “Yes JB, my eyebrows are naturally this long and thick. I guess God just blessed me.” He then proceeded to point to his eyelashes and ask me, “What about my eyebrows? Are they long too?” KILL. ME. NOW.

By 1:30 a.m., I had had enough. I grew a pair and politely thanked him for the night out and explained that I was ready to call it a night. As I went in for a hug goodbye, JB made his move and plastered his lips right on mine. I pulled away, shouted out my last goodbye whilst limping toward the Jetta for safety and sped off into the night.

I will say this, my night didn’t end on such a bad note … On my way home (still in the city), I briefly stopped at one of my favorite bars for a quick bathroom break. I ran into and chatted away with the bouncer at the door and we ended up exchanging numbers. So, I guess the lesson here is that when life opens up a door, you better run the hell out and away from JB unless you're up for some back seat wine action. 

The struggle continues until the next date ...