Makeout Bandit

I moved to the Big D.  Dallas Baby!  Still single, but in a much larger pond.  My good friend from college, Jen Bunny, lives here and has for quite some time.  Jen Bunny invites me to a swanky party my second weekend in town.  Boy does Dallas know how to party.  The party was hosted by a wealthy couple to celebrate their newly renovated mansion. And a party in Dallas wouldn’t be complete without Valet Service, an open bar, wait staff, and a live band.  This shit was insane.

Jen  Bunny and I take a seat at a poolside bistro table to grab a snack, a cocktail, and a good view of the band.  The owner of the house comes by to chat.  He is a friendly, average looking man around 60 ish years old.  Did I mention filthy rich?  Just like most divorced, filthy rich, old men, he had a 30 something year old trophy.  She looked like Denise Richard’s doppleganger but was dressed like a Ralph Lauren model.  The rich man’s trophy gave me and Jen Bunny the grand tour of the monstrosity they call home.  Home theater, numerous guest rooms, a gym, kitchen that looked untouched, artwork, books from the 16 and 1800s, and last but not least, her black diamond the size of my left ass cheek. Have I mentioned I have quite the ass?

After the tour, I grab another cocktail and go back outside to enjoy the band.  These guys were pretty talented and it didn’t hurt that they looked oddly similar to the wolf pack from ‘Twilight’.  The band took a break and grabbed some food.  Lucky for me I had a seat at a bistro table right near the food.  The drummer started chatting me up.  Boy was he cute.

All that talking will make you thirsty.  We decided to go grab another drink and then make a pit stop at the guest bathroom on the way back.  Now I have been known to talk shit about girls that make out in public restrooms, but in my defense this bathroom had gold leaf on the ceiling and the walls.  That is a classy fucking bathroom.  About 10 minutes into the make out session, I decide that we should head back before people notice we are missing.  I head back with smeared lipstick and a bit more pep in my step.  Before I left the party, he gave me his number and an autographed band t-shirt.  I woke up the next day wearing the band t-shirt, slightly hungover, and a phone full of missed text messages from the drummer.  Poor guy…you weren’t the first and you certainly won’t be the last.  If he is lucky he will never see me again.  I would say this isn’t too bad of a start in Dallas.  Let the fun begin!

* I would like to say that nothing was harmed in creating this blog…except for maybe my pride1


This Should Be Foolproof…

There are some things in this world that should be absolutely impossible to fuck up.  I can think of an entire list of these things:

  • Microwave Popcorn- Especially since most microwaves now come equipped with a popcorn setting.
  • A cactus- These bitches can live without water in a dessert.
  • Do It Yourself Projects
  • Brown and Serve Rolls
  • Anything that says “Just add water”.
  • A one night stand
  • A friends with benefits arrangement

Seems like a legit list, right?  Somehow I have managed to fuck up pretty much every single item on the list.

One Night Stand^2

From my junior year of high school and all through college, I dated the same guy.  I was the girl that followed the rules and seemed to do everything right.  Straight A student, cheerleader, President of FBLA (Future Business Leaders of America), high school sweetheart, sorority girl, college graduate, etc.  Everyone thought I was a goodie two shoes.  In fact, my closest friends had to suggest playing the game Never Have I Ever to even see if I was having sex.  I had a boyfriend of five and a half years, but I was very discreet and never talked about it.

Me and the high school sweetheart had a shitty relationship.  In my eyes, it had been over for two years, but I was unsure and too scared to end things.  Then he left me on the side of the road when my car was broken down.*  This was the straw that broke the camel’s back.  It was just the push that I needed.  After this, all hell broke loose.  I didn’t end the relationship right away.  One of my coworkers, The Kid, moved in and took advantage of my vulnerable state.  Actually, there had been sexual tension between us the entire two and a half years we worked together.  A few too many after work margaritas led me to cheat on my high school sweetheart.  After a few weeks, my boyfriend received an email informing him of my adultery.

Dear Author of Said Email,

Thank you!  A very troubled relationship ended that night.


Single Girl

I continued to see The Kid for six months until he got way too clingy.  He meant more to me than a rebound…more like a stepping stone.  These details are not all that important.  Just know that at that point, I was a do-gooder that didn’t cuss (much), drink beer, sleep around, talk about sex, etc.

On January 20, 2007, one of my best friends (Saverge) got married.  I was one of her bridesmaids.  I decided to attend the wedding solo.  Mainly because four out of five groomsmen were single and in the marines.  Jackpot…cha ching!!!  The night before the wedding, Tits McGee (one of the other bridesmaids) and I bonded with the groomsmen over a game of beer pong.  I remember telling Tits McGee that I didn’t like beer.  She said, “well tonight you do.  Suck it up because we are playing with them.  And whatever you do…don’t tell Saverge.”

We stayed up until around 3:00 or 4:00 a.m.  The next day was filled with bridesmaid duties and wedding activities.  After the ceremony, we pile into a limo to head to the reception and the beer drinking begins.  During the reception, the beer is flowing and everyone is having a great time.  At some point we build a beer pyramid…definitely were throwing down.  A lightbulb goes off and I decide it was time for me to sew a wild oat.  I wanted to have a one night stand with one of the marine hotties.  The plan couldn’t have been more perfect.

Drunk Bridesmaid + Drunk/Hot/Marine Groomsman + Alcohol + Hotel Room + Stationed out of State = Perfect One Night Stand Setup

The next step was to decide which marine I was going to have my way with.  I could draw a name out of a hat…no time for that.  Eenie, meenie, miney, mo…too obvious.  I decided to pick the one that gave me the most attention.  Ding, ding, ding…we have a winner.  Memphis was the lucky one and he was definitely in for a treat tonight.  He was exactly my type…tall, tan skin, dark hair, clean cut with a wild streak, muscular, fit, ridiculously good looking.  He was also all tatted up including a tattoo of the word Memphis above his navel in large letters.  Oh boy!  The stars were aligned tonight!

We arrived back at the hotel.  I decided to go change out of the bridesmaid dress and into lounge attire.  I met Memphis back at his room. He was definitely a wise choice for what I was wanting.  Well endowed, nice hair, good kisser.  We did the deed so many times that he ran out of his own stash of condoms and had to borrow some from a groomsman that was less fortunate for the evening.  Well done Memphis…you deserve a medal for that performance.  He gave me a bar from his uniform…we will refer to it as my trophy/participation ribbon.

I woke up from a haze.  Too much booze + not enough sleep + too many sexual acts = a rough walk of shame to my own hotel room down the hall.  At least I had changed into lounge wear the night before.  One poor bridesmaid had to do the walk of shame to the home of the bride’s parents in her bridesmaid dress.  Yikes.

I leave the hotel that day thinking this was the last time that I would see Memphis.  I mean isn’t that the definition of a one night stand.  I was wrong!  At some point, I must have given him my phone number.   Or he found me on Facebook.  The exact details of this are fuzzy.  Regardless of the details, the guy that was meant to be a one night stand was contacting me.  How in the hell did I fuck up that plan?!  Isn’t this every man’s dream?!  A no strings attached hookup with a bridesmaid.  No expectations, no money spent on impressive dates, a sure thing in the sack!  The answer to that question (or so I thought) was yes.  There is a movie about it for crying out loud.  Wedding Crashers ring a bell?

Memphis must have gotten a taste of something that he liked because he came back for seconds.  This time he wanted to take me on a date.   Cart before the horse, I know.  He even drove over an hour to where I lived.  We went out to a local, unique pizzeria.  For those that know me, I am a big foodie.  I live in a town not meant for a foodie, so the pizzeria was the best option.  Memphis and I decided to share a pizza.  I couldn’t really argue since he was paying.  Memphis vetoed all of my suggestions on pizza toppings.  This dude was not budging.  It was pepperoni or cheese…the end!  Dinner conversation (the little that we had) was mediocre.  Most of the night was filled with awkward silence.  It reached a point where all I could think about was getting him into my bed.  I knew he was good at that and it would be more exciting than this dinner disaster.

Memphis left the next day with very little sleep.  I gave the poor guy a lasting memory.  We remained in contact for awhile.  He even sent me packages in the mail.  Don’t get me wrong, I was very flattered, but this was not my intention at all.  He did boost my confidence and convinced me that I must have a vagina made of gold.

Friends With Very Little Benefits

This story started roughly six and a half years ago.  A story you readers should know by now.  Refer to the blog Boomerang Men.  Yes, you guessed it…Commander and Chief (Douche) has made a reappearance.  I know I seem crazy for even giving him a second of my time, but desperate times call for desperate measures.  By desperate times, I mean ~ 5-6 months of celibacy.  That is enough to drive a sane person crazy.  You are also probably thinking, “Are there seriously no other men you could use as your Friend With Benefits?”  Well…yes, but Commander and Chief (Douche) is hot, not datable so there is zero percent chance of me getting hurt, and we have already banged years ago so my number doesn’t go up.  Logical decision in my eyes.

So I turned 30 in November.  I didn’t exactly have a meltdown, but I wouldn’t say that I handled it well either.  The day after my birthday, I realized that I had turned 30 and had celebrated my third birthday in a down without birthday sex.  WTF?!

When Commander and Chief (Douche)

Happy Fucking New Year

If NYE predicted the fate of the upcoming year, then it is safe to say that 2014 is going to be a fucking disaster.  Hell, the last seven years would have been a disaster.  I loathe NYE!  Like seriously fucking hate this holiday.  It is safe to say that it tends to be a holiday that single people hate…likely due to the whole New Year’s kiss bullshit.  According to Wikipedia, “In some western cultures, it is a custom to kiss at the stroke of midnight on New Year’s Eve.  Some hold the superstition that failing to kiss someone endures a year of loneliness.”  Just fucking great!

New Year’s 2007

My hatred for NYE dates back to NYE 2006.  This is also the day that Jager and I broke up.  We haven’t gotten back together either.  I don’t really believe in second chances with relationships and I am not too fond of repeating history except with fashion.

It was soon to be 2007 and 2006 had been one crazy year.  Graduated college, broke up with my boyfriend of five and a half years, got a new boyfriend, and moved to a new city for an internship.  I was hoping to go into the New Year with a bang.  Well mission accomplished.  This day is a day I will never forget.

At the time, I was an intern, still in my prime with drinking, and on the outs with my current boyfriend, The Kid.  I opted to fly solo on NYE and went out on the town with a group of my BFFs.  We were all ready to head out for a fun night when one member of the group asked an important question, “Does everyone have their money and IDs?”  I checked my wallet and my heart stopped.  I had a mini panic attack…tears were involved.  My ID was missing.  I had left it at my friend’s apartment which was two hours away.  Night ruined!  Wrong! My bestie’s boyfriend aka Richie Rich had a brilliant plan.  We would get me in the bar by using the bestie’s ID.  At a glance, I could pass for her in the photo.  Basically we are both around 5’3″ tall and brunette.  I was a nervous wreck.  I follow rules and never attempted anything like this before.  I used the ID first and it worked.  I was in!  The ID was then taken back outside for the bestie to use.  Holy shit!  I just used a fake ID at the age of 23!  Then Richie Rich made it a goal to cheer me up the rest of the night.  His idea of cheering me up came in the form of Jager Bombs.  I lost count…that many.

At some point, I meet a guy named Brendan (this is his real name, although his last name is unknown).  Brendan bought me a lot of drinks.  He was very persistent and was likely trying to take me home.  Richie Rich even threatened him.  Luckily, I reached the point of vomiting and made an escape.  The majority of the details I have of this night are from stories my friends have told.  I remember nothing of what I am about to tell you.  These are details as told by my friends.

Sammi’s List of bad New Year’s decisions:

  1. Danced on a pool table in stiletto heels and got kicked off.
  2. Pulled a Miley Cyrus Blurred Lines twerkfest on some random dude.  At least I have a better ass than Miley.
  3. Stole a massive bottle of Grey Goose Vodka to be used as a photo prop.
  4. Kissed Brendan.
  5. Layed in the men’s restroom floor with my face on the toilet seat.  I was puking while men pissed in the urinal behind me.  The women’s restroom had an overflowing toilet so this was my only option.
  6. Richie Rich and another friend of mine carried me out of the bar.  The bar gave me a round of applause.
  7. They took me outside and asked if I could stand.  I suppose I said yes, but clearly I lied because I crumpled to the sidewalk.
  8. The cab gets rear ended as they are putting me in the backseat.
  9. I puked in the cab.  I had eaten at White Castle for dinner.  My friend Muy Caliente had to clean it up.  I have never eaten at White Castle since that night.
  10. I puked on every one of my friends except Richie Rich.
  11. I had to be carried into the home of Tits McGee’s parents and down a flight of stairs.
  12. I caused my friends to have to do laundry since I had puked on all of them.  They are superstitious.  The superstition says that by doing laundry on New Year’s Day you will wash someone out of your life.  I think it just caused me to have cursed NYE’s from that day forward.
  13. I woke up with no memory of any of this.  I was wearing the same clothes from NYE with a few differences.  My shirt was torn and I had lots of bruises.

I am convinced that I was roofied by Brendan.  In my eyes, it is the most logical explanation.  Thank goodness I have good friends to look out for me.  January 1, 2007 may be one of the worst days I have ever had.  Can we say epic hangover?!  I went to visit my boyfriend, made him take me to get chicken noodle soup, and then dumped him.  This started my seven years of bad New Year’s luck.  Karma is a real bitch and is making me learn a lesson the hard way.  I either broke a mirror that night and don’t remember it or the world is getting back at me for making my friends do laundry on January 1, 2007.  I am cursed!

New Year’s 2010

This year I was with my longterm boyfriend, Voldemort (He Who Must Not Be Named).  I wasn’t flying solo so this NYE had potential.  A group of us decided to go to our local Downtown New Year’s Eve Bash complete with a miniature ball drop.  The Blonde One (aka Current Roomie) came over to our (mine and Voldemort) apartment to get ready.  We had both purchased sparkly dresses to wear for the evening and were really looking forward to the festivities.  Voldemort was watching a football game while us girls got all dolled up.  We lived in a tiny old apartment with paper thin walls and according to the lease had to keep noise to a minimum.  He began yelling loudly at the television screen.  I have never understood this behavior.  Do you honestly think the players can hear you?!  It would be completely different if you were in the stadium, but keep it together.  It also was not like he was watching this game with the guys or a group of people.  He looked like he had fucking Tourette’s.   We had been together over two years at this point and I had never seen him act like this while watching sports.  So I called him out on it, asked him to please keep it down, and might have mocked/imitated him.  I see that this wasn’t the best idea, but his behavior after this incident was a bit ridiculous.  He stormed off to the bedroom slamming the door behind him.  He refused to ride in the same vehicle with me later that evening and kept a considerable distance from me all night.  I attempted to sincerely apologize, but he continued to act like an ass.  At the stroke of midnight, the ball dropped and every couple around me kissed.  This douche stood about two feet away from me and refused to even kiss me.  I was literally standing in the street shivering and crying…not a good look for me, or anyone for that matter!

We decided to change scenery and headed over to the local piano bar.  Representatives from a local monthly magazine, The Snooty Who, were there taking photos of the event.  The Snooty Who documents many social events from the town and also has paid advertisements from local businesses.  Mainly it documents the elite socialites in the city.  Of course they would ask us to pose for a photo…this can not be happening.  I went along with it because I thought there would be no way it would be published.  I was wrong.  Are these people blind?  Did they not see that this picture was terrible?  My first appearance in The Snooty Who and I have tear stained cheeks and a red nose.  Fucking seriously?!  All the sequins and sparkles in the world couldn’t make up for that hot ass mess.

New Year’s 2011

This year we decided to go to the local karaoke bar with a group of friends.  I was still with Voldemort and he had a job that required him to work later hours and holidays.  Voldemort had to work that night so I went out with our friends.  He was planning to meet up with us when he got off of work.  The Blonde One’s boyfriend at the time offered to pick him up.  I suppose he offered to be the sober driver.  We all knew Voldemort wouldn’t agree to DD and if he did he would get drunk anyway.  We were all aware of this trend.  The boys were gone for hours and we hadn’t heard a word from them.  Oh, right…that is because they left us at the bar while they were at mine and Voldemort’s apartment playing video games.  I was looking really hot that night.  So hot that a gay man at the bar says, “You could turn me straight.”  Voldemort chose video games over this.  Fucking seriously?!  We are adults in our mid 20s and this is NYE.  Good luck getting laid tonight…that shit isn’t happening.  They show up barely before midnight.  I should have seen this coming considering I once found Voldemort playing World of Warcraft with a headset that had a microphone so he could talk to the other live gamers.  Can we say loser?!

New Year’s 2012

This was my first NYE as a single lady and I was a bit nervous.  I had been talking to/going on dates with Old Blue Eyes since before Thanksgiving.  He asked me to be his date for a house party that his friends were hosting.  It was a couples party.  He picked me up and invited me to stay over that night.  One couple arrived a little late to the party.  It was a friend of Old Blue Eyes and a girl that he had invited along.  I recognized her because she used to work as a waitress at a local bar.  We will just refer to her as Malaria.  An awkward vibe fell over the party and couples were talking quietly amongst themselves.  I barely overheard one couple say “I can’t believe he brought her.”  I had no idea what they were talking about.  I later found out that Malaria and Old Blue Eyes used to date and everyone was shocked that she showed up with his friend.  This bitch quickly was on my last nerve.  She followed Old Blue Eyes around like a lost puppy.  I kept my cool.  She then decided to do a tequila shot with the boys, but played the dumb blonde card by acting like she didn’t know what to do.  It is Lick-Shoot-Suck you moron.  I was not fooled by her act…the bitch used to work in a fucking bar.  You can’t seriously make me believe that she didn’t know how to do a tequila shot.

The party continued and soon it was very close to midnight.  The champagne was poured and everyone was getting in place for the countdown.  I grabbed a glass of champagne for myself and was getting a glass for Old Blue Eyes when I heard Malaria say, “Old Blue Eyes, I got a glass of champagne for you.”  I gave her the death stare that I am famous for and said, “It is already taken care of.”  Was this bitch serious?!  3-2-1…Happy New Year!  And no kiss!  Fucking seriously?!  We had never kissed at this point, but it was NYE so I thought this might be the time.  I was wrong.

I proceeded to get really drunk to attempt to forget about the awkwardness.  I noticed that Old Blue Eyes was nowhere to be found.  I asked if anyone had seen him only to find out that he had left to drive Malaria home.  Fucking seriously?!  WTF is wrong with people?!  Happy Fucking New Year!  Old Blue Eyes and Malaria tied the knot just recently (2013).  Some people are made for each other.

New Year’s 2013

This year I gave up and pulled a Bridget Jones.  Fat pants, junk food, wine, party hats, and reflecting on the unhappy areas of my life.  I vowed to lose weight and some other similar shit that Bridget was always trying to change.  Not the most eventful NYE, but it was douchebag free at least.

New Year’s 2014

Cougar Bait and I reunited the Thursday before Christmas.  I had a moment of weakness after my Chicago Trip* and he is cute.  A few friends of his were going out for NYE and he invited me to join them.  The Blonde One, her boyfriend Dingo, and I decided to skip the dinner plans and meet up with Cougar Bait and the other couple later at the bar.  We arrived and Cougar Bait was already drunk.  He was being extra flirty too.  He was considerate enough to introduce me to all of his friends.  Things were going well.  Cougar Bait leaves to go to the restroom.  I saw some friends that I knew and went to chat with them while he was gone.  I return to my original seat and notice that Cougar Bait is talking to a young blonde nearby.  His friend, Coach Douche, asks me where Cougar Bait was because it was almost midnight.  He asked me if I was going to kiss Cougar Bait at midnight.  Midnight approaches.  3-2-1…Happy New Year!  Cougar Bait kisses blondie.  Fucking seriously?!  What person invites a girl out for NYE, but kisses another one.  Fuck you douche!  I left without saying goodbye.  I wasn’t too upset because Cougar Bait wasn’t boyfriend material (too young and a lousy tipper), but he was fun.  Who knew he would do something this douchey?!

I need to end this NYE curse.  A girl can only take so much.  Fingers crossed for 2015.

*Full blog about the Chicago Trip to follow soon.

**I would like to say that nothing was harmed in creating this blog…except for maybe my pride.


Cabs Are Here!!!!

A few years ago, I experienced a bit of car trouble.  I woke up to a car that wouldn’t start, but it was nothing that jumper cables couldn’t temporarily fix.  Once I arrived at work, one of the maintenance men took a look at it.  He diagnosed the problem and told me that I more than likely needed a new battery.

I was working in a city about an hour away from home so I found my way to the local Auto Zone to correct my problem.  A man around my dad’s age approached me and said he would assist me as soon as he finished with his current customer.  Before he could make his way back over, a guy around my age intervened and said he could assist me.  He was actually pretty cute so I was totally ok with the swap.  I began to really play up that whole damsel in distress act.  Thank goodness I had dressed really cute for work that day.  I was also looking really fit…A) I had lost 20 pounds post-breakup and B) I was training for the Warrior Dash and my first half marathon.

While Auto Zone hottie was installing my new battery, I was thinking of sexy mechanic fantasies and was tempted to ask him to take a look under my hood.  I refrained.  We made the usual small talk.  Where do you work?  Where are you from?  What do you do for fun?  You get the picture.  After the battery installation was complete, Auto Zone hottie asked how he might be able to get in touch with me.  I gave him a business card and wrote my personal phone number on the back.  My previous breakup was still so fresh and this was just the confidence boost that I needed.  I drove off smile and thought, “yep…still got it!”

I immediately texted one of my friends from that area to get the scoop on Auto Zone hottie.  It is a small town with only one high school and I thought she more than likely knew him.  Sure enough she did and she filled me in.  I now knew his last name…score!  Let the Facebook stalking begin.  When I got home that evening I looked Auto Zone hottie up on Facebook.  Man was he cute and his profile was public.  I began to read some of his wall posts.  OMG…his most recent status update was about me.  It read, “Never thought I would enjoy changing a battery that much! :)”  Oh snap…I got a smiley face.

We started to text one another and things seemed to be going well.  Yep, just as you may have guessed.  I spoke too soon.  His dirty laundry began to be aired.  Very recently divorced after only one year of marriage, baby mama (not the wife) drama, and a four year old child.  He was packing quite a bit of baggage.  I was not in the best state of mind at this time and went against my better judgement.

  • Better judgement = run the fuck away
  • Not so good judgement = meeting up with him the following weekend at a bar

The night was going well, but he was getting to be a bit handsy.  I definitely had the angel and devil on my shoulders this night.  The angel was telling me to slow down on my beer intake and reminded me of my hatred for PDA.  The devil however was slightly tipsy and sex deprived so she said to go for it.  What the fuck was I thinking making out with Auto Zone Hottie at a bar in my town where people know me?!  Thankfully I was drunk and the details of this night are a little fuzzy.

We kept in contact over the next several weeks by texting, meeting up for lunch on days I worked in his town, etc.  This went on until details of his lifestyle choices were revealed.  I knew he wasn’t boyfriend material, but that didn’t mean that I couldn’t have a little fun first, right?

He invited me out for sushi one Friday night.  I agreed to go and he picked me up at my apartment.  We had an enjoyable dinner and then went back to my place for drinks.  Judging by his bar behavior (aka handsy PDA), I thought he would make his move rather quickly.  Hell no!  He was being respectful.  WTF?!  Damn my luck.  Let’s get this show on the road buddy.  Finally I realized that if I wanted anything to happen then I would have to make the first move.  And so it began…

Half an hour or so later we are lying in bed together.  I am busy trying to think of a way to pull a Mike “The Situation”.  So…I used to occasionally watch Jersey Shore.  Don’t judge me.  But in one episode Mike bangs a girl and then calls her a cab.  My situation wasn’t that easy.  At the time my town did not have cabs and he lived an hour away.  Believe me…the sex was definitely not worth a 60 mile cab fee.

As I began to get dressed, I said, “well…that was fun.  Be safe driving home.”  Auto Zone Hottie gathered his things and was on his way.  Needless to say that was the end of that.  That was the easiest “This isn’t working out” talk that I have ever had.

* I would like to say that nothing was harmed in creating this blog…except for maybe my pride.

Boomerang Men

My inspiration for this blog came from a song.  On my commute home from work one day last week the song Not Over You by Gavin DeGraw came on the radio.  One part of the song in particular caught my attention.

” I, I’m a boomerang, doesn’t matter how you throw me, I turn around and I’m back in the game…”

This lyric reminded me of a text I had received a few days prior.  I thought about the lyric and realized that I knew several men like that.

Not all Boomerang Men are created equal.  There are several different types.

  1. Mr. Persistent
  2. The Little Engine that Could
  3. Sixth Sense
  4. The Rebounder
  5. HIs Benefit
  6. Out of Towner
  7. Throw Away Fisherman

Mr. Persistent

The first type of Boomerang Man is the one that you just can’t seem to get rid of.  You throw him back and he just keeps trying to sneak back in.  At first you try being nice…you drop subtle hints letting him know that you are not interested.  He might even slack up on contacting you for a minute, but do not be fooled that easily.  Guys like this will be back.  It’s like feeding a stray animal…you just don’t do that shit unless you want them to stick around.  This type of Boomerang Man is either desperate for a relationship, really into you, or both.  He will not stop that easily because he thinks that he may be able to change your mind or that with time you will change.  No is not in his vocabulary.  He will go along with any rules that you establish.  For example: you tell him you are only interested in hanging out as friends.  Boom…he will be ok with this just to keep you close and the whole time he is thinking that things will change.  I give these guys an A for effort because they sure are committed to the pursuit.

The Little Engine that Could

He thinks he can, he thinks he can, he thinks he can.  Somewhat similar to Mr. Persistent.  This guy is one that can not handle rejection.  He may have excelled at most everything he has ever set this mind to do except for when it comes to the ladies.  The Little Engine just can’t handle failure.  More than likely someone in his life told him he could do whatever he set his mind to and this time his mind is set on you.  Each time The Little Engine comes back with more and more force only to be derailed.

Sixth Sense

The next type of Boomerang Man is the one that only comes back when you are happy.  He is almost like a drug canine…can sniff that shit out.  This type of Boomerang Man can sense when you are happy alone or happily involved with another man.  I am convinced that these men are psychic or have some sort of happiness radar that they have placed on you.  This radar alerts them…”Ding, ding, ding.  She just met someone and is happy.  Now get back in there and fuck shit up.  Time to turn her world around again!”  About a month ago, a guy that I had met asked me out on a date.  We went out, had fun, and really seemed to hit it off.  The first date went well enough that I agreed to a second date.  No exaggeration at all, but I was contacted by five guys from my past that same week.  WTF?!  Months could go by with not one date and as soon as things are looking up it is like the sky opens up and rains down a slew of men to fuck shit up.  Never fails!  Happens every single time.

The Rebounder

Then there is the Post-Breakup/Rebounder Boomerang Man.  This man is usually in a rocky relationship.  One of those on-again/off-again girlfriends.  We all know the type.  You are the one that always seems to be his backup plan for some reason .One particular guy I know (that fits this category) once sent me a text two minutes after changing his relationship status on Facebook.  This is no joke…seriously fucking happened.


I think I don’t have to worry about this one anymore though.  His heinous on-again/off-again girlfriend pregnancy trapped him and now they are married.  Oh wait…there is always divorce I suppose.

Band Wagon Jumper or a Fair Weather Fan

Some Boomerang Men only come back around when they think they have something to gain.  It has to benefit them and only them.  Could be numerous reasons, but I can provide you with an example that I have experienced first hand.  I have recently lost quite a bit of weight (23 pounds) and I have worked hard to get extremely fit.  Numerous men (~20 plus) have contacted me by text and/or Facebook since then trying to get with me.  Oh hell to the no.  If you didn’t want to date me back then I am definitely not dating you now that I am looking good.  Sorry about your luck…should have jumped on this train sooner.  Not fucking happening.

The Out of Towner

The Out of Towner boomerang men are exactly as they seem.  They are relatively harmless and can be quite fun.  They may live too far away to be in a committed relationship, but they pop back in when they are in the area.  This can be quite enjoyable all with no strings attached.  Proceed with caution because they are literally here today and gone tomorrow.

Catch and Release

I decided to save the best type of boomerang men for last…the one that realized he messed up by letting you go.  He is desperately trying to get another chance.  The douchiest one that I know continues to try to get his foot back in the door.  We first dated over six (nearly seven) years ago.  I guess he refuses to accept the facts…that shit ain’t happening!  I met him back in my younger days when I first moved to town.  After a few dates, I discovered he was seeing someone else (pretty seriously) and she just so happened to work at the same place as me.  Small world.  He continued to call my phone while he was dating her.  Hell no…I sent that shit to voicemail.  They got married shortly after and had two children.  I thought that my days of hearing from him were over.  Not quite…they got divorced and he started calling me.  Really?!  WTF?!  he must be delusional.  I am nobody’s second choice.  But me being the man eating bitch I (sometimes) am decided I could have fun with this.  I decided to let him think he had a second chance.  Mean I know, but some douchebags have to learn the hard way.

After a short time of this, my conscious got the best of me and I was exhausted with trying to entertain this neanderthal.  The final straw came when I went to his house and found the collection of He Man figurines displayed on his living room walls.  Seriously!  I can’t make this shit up.  I felt like I was on the set of the 40 Year Old Virgin only this was real life.  Months had gone by without us speaking…this isn’t as easy as it sounds.  He works at my gym and I am there daily.  Finally he spoke to me at the gym last week.  That measly five minute conversation was enough to set his texting back into motion again.


Dude!  Give up!  Sorry that I am the one that got away, but shit happens.  Maybe you should learn to keep the good ones that you catch.

* I would like to say that nothing was harmed in creating this blog…except for maybe my pride.

Forced into a Sex Hiatus

September 21, 2013…I feel like this is going to be a date to remember.  It is the 264th day of the year (101 days left until the end of the year), Bill Murray’s birthday, the International Day of Peace, and the day I quit taking birth control.  Yes…you did read that correctly.

Before anyone asks, the answer is no.  I am not trying to conceive a child.  No, no, and hell no!  I am not one of those women that are dying to have children.  You know the type.  The women that are always talking about their biological clocks ticking and other bullshit.  That is definitely not me.  I think my biological clock is broken…if I ever even had one to begin with.  Maybe I have evolved.  In fact, I once was anti-children, but in the past few years I have changed my status to “on the fence”.  If I were to meet someone that was set on kids then I would be willing to consider it.  If I meet someone and they do not want children then I am ok with that too.  However, a child at this time is not desired.  A) I am not married. B)  No boyfriend.  C) Training for a fitness show (it would ruin my plans for a badass body).  D) I have made it almost 30 years without a child so if I do have one I would rather do it in this order: date, marry, plan for a child.

The reason I have decided to discontinue the birth control is due to fitness purposes.  After reading multiple research studies and articles, I learned that birth control pills cause water retention, make weight loss more difficult, and can prevent muscle building.  So bye bye for now Yaz.

Saying bye bye to Yaz also means saying bye bye to sex.  Yes I am aware that there are other ways to prevent pregnancy and I use said measures of safety.  However, those things are not idiot proof or 100% effective.  Remember how baby Emma on Friends was conceived.  Ross was so angry that he contacted the condom company.

I will be a lot more selective/cautious with my sexcapades now.  Before now I could rest a little easier knowing that I had double protection.  If that condom was dry rotted/covered in cob webs because it had been with the guy for the duration of his dry spell then Yaz was there.  If the condom broke then Yaz was there.  If the condom slipped off because of technical difficulties, unfortunate size issues, or rough and/or foul play then Yaz was there.  Now my little safety net is gone.  It is the end of an era…not really an end, but a caution light.  Yellow lights ahead!

Bless those in my life that are close to me.  From this day forward not only will I be tired, hungry, exhausted, sore, physically/mentally/emotionally exhausted, etc (from fitness training and extreme dieting), but I will also be sexless.  Give me strength and a value pack of Energizer Batteries!

* I would like to say that nothing was harmed in creating this blog…except for maybe my pride.

We Have a Clinger

It’s official.  I do believe I have another clinger on my hands.  How do I get myself into these situations?  Nine whole days go by and Preacher Man returns.  If you aren’t familiar with Preacher Man please refer to Meet Cute Disaster.  Let’s not forget that prior to this he sent me seven different text messages and I have yet to respond.  I am not trying to be childish or take the easy way out by ignoring him, but I honestly don’t have the time or energy to deal with this psycho.

I tried the whole let him down gently approach by saying that I didn’t think our lives meshed well.  After a heated debate over gay marriage, he tells me he is more attracted to me.  WTF?!  Clearly that tactic did not work.  I tried being short with my responses, but he continued to text.  I gave him the silent treatment, but that doesn’t work either.  This is proof that many men need blunt, straight forward information and do not get hints.  I am considering sending him a text saying that he doesn’t have a change in hell, but I doubt it would work either.  Suggestions on how to handle this situation would be greatly appreciated.  And go!

The return of his texts started yesterday at 9:30 am.  The early bird was attempting to go after the worm.

Preacher Man: Hey you.  How are you?

Me: No response…literally I haven’t sent him a text back.

Preacher Man: It’s Preacher Man…the guy you met at Starbuck’s.

Well shit!  I am glad that you refreshed my fucking memory.  It has only been nine days since I last heard from you.  With such a long lapse in time, I was sure to forget.  Can we say crazy?!

He sent me a Facebook friend request the night we met.  I thought it was too soon to add him and I wanted to feel out the situation before accepting his friend request.  I never accepted it and chose the Not Now option.  Yesterday he sent a second friend request.  If I don’t add you the first time it is not likely you will be added if you send another request.  Why do people do that?

The next day Preacher Man makes another attempt.

Preacher Man: How are you?

Me: I still have not responded.

I mean he is starting to seem really pathetic.  Don’t get me wrong…I think that I am a pretty cool chick and a great catch, but I do not quite understand his obsession with me.  Let’s lay out all of the details.  We have the meet cute at a coffee shop.  We were both physically attracted to one another.  We switched phone numbers and began texting that same night.  We text for three whole days and then it’s over.  He continues to text me for the next five days and I do not respond.  Nine days go by and he reappears.  We never even had a date.

So here are some questions that come to mind.  I do not have answers to these questions.  Blog readers…please feel free to comment with your thoughts.

  1. Why is he still contacting me?
  2. Did he feel that strong of a connection?
  3. Is he just really horny and lusting after me?
  4. Is he really lonely?
  5. Is he that desperate for a relationship?
  6. Is it the chase/wanting something that you can’t have?
  7. Is he bothered by rejection?
  8. Does he think that I am that awesome?
  9. Perhaps he wants to chain me up in his basement?
  10. Is he attempting to have a redo because it was such a disaster?

Feel free to address those questions or add to the list.

* I would like to say that nothing was harmed in creating this blog…except for maybe my pride.


At work recently, a friend/coworker was asking around to see if anyone had ever been to watch the Chip and Dale strippers perform.  She had just popped her Chip and Dale cherry and lived to tell the tale.  I responded to her question by saying that I had not had the pleasure of watching the Chip and Dale strippers perform, but that I had in fact been to see a stripper…well, sort of.  I told her that first I wanted to hear all about her experience and then I would share my story.

Her and a friend had gotten wind that the Chip and Dale strippers would be performing at a local club.  My coworker’s friend offered to purchase her ticket if she would agree to go.  My (recently single) coworker thought why not?!  She agreed to go.  The two ladies got all sexed up and headed out to see the male performers.  My coworker described the experience as one of the worst nights of her life.  She said and I quote, “I was disgusted and truly embarrassed for these men.”  The she made me watch a short video that she had taken with her iPhone.  Sadly, she deleted the video already.  I attempted to obtain the video to post in the blog and she told me that she deleted it because it wasn’t worth taking up space in her phone.  The video was of an old washed up stripper dressed as Tarzan.  His attempt to be sexy involved a sponge and a bucket of water which he used to soak up the water and squeeze over his (not great looking) body.  Dear Lord!

These dancers (in my opinion) sure had a lot to learn about what women find sexy.  I have a few questions that I would love to ask the dancers.  I wonder how one would go about getting an interview.  Does anyone have a press pass that I can borrow?

Chip and Dale Interview Questions:

  1. What do you think women find sexy?
  2. Where do you learn your moves/routine?
  3. Where do you buy your costumes?
  4. Why is your hair longer than mine?
  5. What do you use for body oil?
  6. Is that your real penis?
  7. Describe your pre-stage warmup routine?  Are penis pumps involved?  Viagra?  Playboy magazines?  Porn videos?
  8. How did your choose your alias?
  9. Do you find that alcohol is necessary before a performance?
  10. Have you watched Magic fucking Mike?  If yes, then clearly you didn’t take note because they aren’t nearly this creepy or disgusting.
  11. Are there stripper awards?  Like the Espy’s, but for strippers.
  12. Are your parents proud?
  13. How many women do you bang after the show?
  14. Is that a real tan, spray tan, or tanning bed tan?
  15. I hate to ask, but what’s your yearly income?  Is this actually worth it?
  16. Do you have a day job?
  17. How do you deal with a venue that has cold temperatures?
  18. How many lap dances do you average a night?
  19. Do you ever give extras?  If so, how do you decide who to give extras to?
  20. How long have you been in the profession?

Top Ten List of Advice for the Chip and Dale’s:

  1. Fabio is so 1996.
  2. Please consider taking professional dance lessons.
  3. Tan less.  Women don’t really love the whole Jersey Shore/Dorito rape skin color.
  4. Workout more.  Nobody likes a stripper with a gut.  Plus it will make your penis look larger.
  5. Think Fifty Shades of Gray…Suit and Tie > Banana Hammock Tarzan Ensemble.
  6. Do NOT quit your day job.  I repeat, Do NOT quit your day job.
  7. Look into male enhancement.
  8. Lay off the Pam/body oil.  A little goes a long way.
  9. Save for early retirement.
  10. Get a fucking haircut.

I do not truly understand the male stripper appeal.  In fact I find it quite repulsive.  My one and only stripper experience is an oldie, but a goodie. Back in 2008 (when I was at a different place of employment), I worked with two women that had numerous male stripper experiences.  These two women were about 10 years older than me and could not believe that I had never been to see a male stripper.  They had been to see the Chip and Dale performers multiple times and had also attended several private performances at bachelorette parties.  I told them that my friends must have different ideas of how a bachelorette party is done because the ones that I have attended never involved a stripper.

These two ladies called me up one Saturday night to invite me to go watch the Chip and Dale’s.  Luckily I already had plans so I was off the hook this time, but not for long.  Shortly after this, I received advance notice and an invite to a bachelorette party that was to include a male stripper.  When she informed me that free drinks would be provided I agreed to attend.  I thought it can’t be that bad and I can at least get drunk and make the best of it.

Let me start by saying that there wasn’t enough alcohol in the whole damn town to make this shit bearable.  The party was being held in a conference room of a local hotel.  I am not talking a four star Ritz fucking Carlton.  This was on the borderline of being labeled a Stabbin’ Cabin.  It was one of those cheap ass hotels where the front desk clerk speaks broken English, the bed linens are probably never changed/infested with bed bugs, and it is not recommended to leave valuables in the room.  They may actually rent rooms by the hour at this particular establishment.

The party started with a Slumber Party aka Sex Toy Party.  We all know that I am no prude when it comes to battery operated devices.  Refer to Battery Operated Binge.  This situation was slightly uncomfortable because it was an awkward setting.  I was a bit more reserved back then and I was in a room full of strangers (except for the one coworker).  On a positive note, these ladies did not slack in the alcohol department.  They had setup a makeshift bar and one of the girls took on the task of bar tending.  I opted for something packing quite a punch…double vodka and Redbull.  I thought this was my only option of surviving the night.

The sex party came to an end and cocktail hour continued while we anxiously waited on the stripper to make his appearance.  At this point I was thinking that I hoped they spent more money on the stripper than the hotel room because otherwise we would be getting Danny Devito.   Remember the Friends’ episode where Monica and Rachel had planned Phoebe a classy bachelorette party only to find out that she had her heart set on a stripper.  They hired the stripper last minute and got the bottom of the barrel…poor Danny Devito.  Fingers crossed that I don’t have to pay this guy to put it back on.

The music started, the lights dimmed, and there was a soft knock on the conference room door.  Holy shit!!!  This was happening!  I was a nervous wreck.  Seriously…I could feel my heart beat in my throat.  What the fuck was I thinking?!  Then he made his appearance.  In struts a very muscular African American man dressed in black leather pants, a black leather vest, motorcycle boots, a black cape (think Dracula), and a straw cowboy hat.  WTF?!  He was a confused stripper with poor taste in wardrobe selection.  He was oiled up…I imagine from head to toe, but all that was visible at this point were his arms.  There isn’t a bad seat in the house because the conference room was arranged like theater in the fucking round.  And since it was a small room everyone was within arms reach of the Vampire Biker Cowboy.

He started by getting warmed up/loosened up.  Basically he was just club dancing to the music.  Then he drops the cape.  The vest is the next article of clothing to go.  So now he was down to leather pants and a straw cowboy hat plus whatever surprise is hiding in those pants.  At this point his back is to me and I am thinking that this isn’t as bad as I anticipated.  I have a tendency of doing this often…speaking too soon that is.  He turned around and looked right at me.  I couldn’t take my eyes off of his face at first because he was doing this strange thing with his mouth.  It looked like he was having oral sex with the air, but his oral sex face is really creepy.  At least if you were on the receiving end you wouldn’t really have to see what his face looked like.  Finally I had to look away because his face was really freaking me out.  So where do you think my next focal point was?  Oh that’s right…his crotch!  Holy fucking shit!  What the fuck is in those pants?  That looks like a fucking anaconda.  No seriously…this thing went from groin to knee.  I feel sorry for any girl that may have lost their virginity to that.  Those poor girls would have a scarring idea of what sex is like.

I feared my life.  I went into full blown panic mode.  I broke out into a cold sweat, my heart was racing, hands shaking, and I began to plan my escape.  There was no way I could be there when the snake came out of the cage.  I suddenly developed a severe case of ophidiophobia.  I whispered to my coworker that I had to go.  She tried to persuade me to stay just a little longer.  Luckily I had chosen a seat close to the door.  I bolted and didn’t look back.  I was such a mess that I could barely drive.  Monday at work my coworker filled me in on what I had missed.  It involved a bed sheet, banana hammock, and dry humping.  Thankfully I left when I did.

The good thing about Chip and Dale’s is that usually they are a traveling act.  Here today, gone tomorrow.  The stripper I ran out on just so happen to be a local gig.  This guy started popping up everywhere.  Best Buy, the gym, the mall, etc.  I am convinced that he still recognizes me when we see each other.  I mean it has got to be hard to forget the only white girl that ran out on your performance.

* I would like to say that nothing was harmed in creating this blog…except for maybe my pride.

Reoccurring Clinger

I swear that I am a magnet for crazy men.  It’s true…but you should already know that by now if you have read any of my previous blogs.  I honestly think that I have a flashing neon sign on my forehead, a blimp circling above me, and a trail of crumbs leading the crazies to my location.  Damn that Hansel and Gretel.  It is like I am the square on a monopoly board that allows you to collect $200 if you pass.

Honestly, I have probably brought a lot of this on myself due to my outgoing/bubbly personality, inability to say no, and the fact that I hate hurting people’s feelings.  Because of these personality traits, I have given my phone number to many men that have requested it.  I have even given it to those men that I was in no way interested in.  I am talking never in a million years and not even if populating the earth/keeping the human race alive depended on it.

In my defense (much of the time), the number exchange happened when I was quite intoxicated and not thinking as clearly.  This caused a bit of confusion the morning after.  I either A) couldn’t remember anything about the guy.  Thank God for Facebook and the ability to “stalk” or B) had that ‘What the fuck was I thinking?’ moment because I did remember the guy.

After multiple Stage 5 Phone Clingers, I decided to change my ways ever so slightly.  Instead of passing along my phone number, I would take their number instead.  The Roomie (back when she was still single) and I would do work on the weekends.  We collected so many numbers.  I am talking numbers on business cards, bar napkins, receipts, coasters, gum wrappers, crumpled slips of paper, stored in our cell phones, etc.  You name it and we had probably experienced it.  The majority of the time we had no intentions of calling these men, but it sure was entertaining.  We decided to start collecting all of the numbers in a decorative bowl that was on our coffee table.  We had quite the collection.  It started to look like a raffle bowl.  You know like the ones that they have at some local restaurants with a  sign that says “Drop in your business card for a chance to win a free lunch”.  Only these boys didn’t have a chance to win shit.  Poor fellas!  I know this sounds harsh, but most of these men were complete douchebags that deserved this.

Some of the guys that actually received my number could not take a hint.  I have discovered that this is a trait that is common in the majority of the male population.  With men, you should avoid hints and just cut right to the chase.  Be blunt, straight to the point, and use simple language.  Men are simple.  They do not overcomplicate things like many women do.  That is the honest truth.  Many of these men would text me and I would try one of many tactics.  A) Be very short with my responses.  B) Avoid any response that would allow the conversation to continue.  C) Not respond at all.  None of these tactics actually worked.  These men would continue to contact me.

One guy in particular was a Reoccurring Clinger.  I would think that I had finally gotten rid of him for good and sure enough the fucker would reappear.  My guess is that he would start dating someone and when that didn’t work he would start going through his phone contacts (aka modern day Little Black Book) texting every possibility that he thought he had.

The Reoccurring Clinger was quite possibly one of the biggest douches of all time.  He thought very highly of himself.  More than likely this was a defense mechanism to cover up a small penis, abandonment/rejection issues, or low self esteem from being an ugly child or some other scarring/ traumatic childhood bullshit.  When I rejected him he lashed out and said, “I have dated NFL cheerleaders.”  Well shit dude!  Why didn’t you mention that sooner?!  I would have already started on the wedding plans as well as nailing down the name of our first born child.  In your fucking dreams!!   Who the fuck gives a shit about who you dated in the past?!  All that tells me is that those girls were too stupid to see through your bullshit.  You could have dated Heidi Fucking Klum and I still wouldn’t want your ass.

I finally deleted him from my phone because nearly a year had gone by and I hadn’t heard a peep out of him.  I thought it was safe to say that he was history.  Hallelujah…I had gotten rid of this psycho!  Wrong!!  No such luck!  Yesterday he made yet another reappearance.

Yesterday afternoon I received a text from a random number that I didn’t have saved in my phone.  Luckily I have met a few tough broads along the way that have rubbed off on me…well slightly.  Inked Lucky, Red, and The Bestie are tough as nails, they don’t put up with bullshit, and they will quickly put a douchebag in their place using sarcasm and wit.  The majority of the time the douchebags are too stupid to even comprehend the sarcasm and they mistake it for flirting.  It is really quite hilarious.  I am not exactly up to their level just yet, but I am slowly learning the ropes.  I am also currently training for a fitness show.  This piece of information seems irrelevant, but actually it has a lot to do with how I handled the situation.  Grueling gym training plus a strict diet will make even the nicest person a raging bitch.  Needless to say, I am quite irritable and moody lately.  That plus what I have learned from my ballsy friends allowed me to handle the Reoccurring Clinger in a way I never would have in the past.  I enjoyed it a little too well.

Here is how it all went down:

Unknown Number: Hi

Me: Who is this?

Unknown Number: Chad

Me: Chad?  I’m sorry.  I don’t know if I know you.

Unknown Number: Headless/shirtless selfie pic

Me (Now really fucking annoyed):  Ok that explains it.  Let me drop what I am doing to text a headless man!

Unknown Number: Selfie that shows his face.  It also in no way appears to be the same dude.  The shirtless pic was probably from his college days when he was actually in good shape.

Note: I have an incredible memory.  Seriously!  It is freakish.  So at his point I realize who this guy is.  I am so fucking annoyed with this bullshit and I decide to respond.

Me: Dude!  Lose my number and never text me again.



Fingers (and toes) crossed that this time it works.  I thought my response took away all hints and was actually really blunt.  And I have learned my lesson.  I am now way more stingy with my phone number, but not too stingy.   I do need blog material after all!

*I would like to say that nothing was harmed in creating this blog…except for maybe my pride.

Meet Cute Disaster

A few weeks ago I had a slow day at work and was able to get out of the office fairly early.  My gym was closed that day due to a holiday.  I decided that I needed a little retail therapy so I drove to a larger city nearby for some shopping/me time.  I decided to text a guy that I know that lives in the area.  He is the guy that said “don’t fall in love with me because I am an asshole to girls.”  Refer to blog This Calls for a Beer…or Six!  Well…we have kept in contact with one another for the past year and a half.  Our situation is complicated.  Hell, I don’t even know what it is honestly.  It is not sexual.  It is not even close to being physical.  We just text, flirt, and occasionally meet up for dinner and drinks.

So me and It’s Complicated/Asshole to Girls decided to meet up for dinner at 7:00 pm.  I finished up at the mall around 6:00 pm.  I had an hour to kills so I decided to treat myself to a coffee.  I head to a local coffee shop to read, relax, and sip on a sugar free latte before dinner.  When I walk in I am instantly drawn to a guy sitting to my left.  He was very attractive, but was quite opposite of what I am typically attracted to.  There was just something about him that caught my eye.  He had a very preppy style and glasses.  I am a sucker for both of these things.  He had a  shaved head which is usually not my thing at all.  I have an obsession with a sexy head of hair.  I will blog more about that later.

I order my coffee and as I am waiting on the barista to hand me my drink, I notice that I had worn a silver band type ring with a cross on it on my left hand ring finger.  No idea why I did that.  I never wear a ring on that finger.  I discreetly slip the ring off of my finger and place it in my purse.  I didn’t want this guy to think I was married.

There were only two comfy chairs in the entire coffee shop and they were both empty and in front of where the hot guy was sitting.  I snagged one of the chairs, got comfy, and began to read my book as I sipped my drink.  I am currently reading Sex in the City by Candace Bushnell.  Very cliche to my blog and somewhat funny for this situation that is about to unfold.  This book had been collecting dust on my bookshelf.  Being a huge fan of the show, I thought it was time to find out how it all began.  While reading my book, I kept having the feeling that someone was staring at me.  I would glance up over the top of my book each time and catch eyes with the hottie.  He was definitely staring.  Ten or more minutes of this went by and I was beginning to get irritated.  This guy needed to man up and come talk to me or quit staring.  He was sitting with a couple and they were chatting.  After several times of catching eyes with this guy, I began to get the feeling that they were talking about me.  Finally he came over and gave me a note.


I respond to his note by looking at him and saying, “I don’t have a pen, but there is a seat right here if you want to come talk to me.”

He came and sat beside me and we began with the usual introductory conversation.  “What’s your name?”, “Where are you from?”, “What’s your name?”, “What do you do?”, etc.  When he told me that he was a Baptist youth minister, I immediately began to tense up.  It was like in movies or cartoons when an angel and devil appear and are sitting on your shoulders.  Oh shit!  I sat up a little straighter, turned my book over, made sure not to drop the F bomb, etc.  We exchanged numbers and I told him that I needed to go meet a friend (It’s Complicated/Asshole to Girls) for dinner.

During dinner, Preacher Man sends me a very nice text message.  His message said, “Hey.  It’s Preacher Man.  It was so good to meet you.  By the way you are stunning.  I hope to talk to you soon.”  I began to think that this could be off to a good start.  I mean we had an adorable meet cute, he sent me a very nice first text, etc.  Remember in the movie The Holiday when Kate Winslet’s character is talking with her elderly neighbor.  They refer to meet cute (the way they met their significant other).

It is funny how quickly things can change.  On my drive home, Preacher Man sends me a friend request on Facebook.   I thought it seemed a little too eager, but brushed it off because Facebook is the norm these days.  I decided not to accept his friend request just yet.  I wanted to text him a bit more first.  I sent him a text back to thank him for the compliment and to tell him it was nice to meet him as well.  We are texting back and forth and things are going well.  Then the first of many annoying/weird/creepy/crazy texts arrives.

Preacher Man says, “So why are you single??  I mean if I may ask.”

WTF??  Why do you need to ask this so suddenly.  We are like ten texts in.  I hate this question.  Honestly I am single because I haven’t found someone worth giving it up for.  I would rather be single and happy than in a miserable relationship.  I respond by saying something along the lines of “I am single because I am happy and I do not want to settle just to be in a relationship.”

Preacher Man then says, “What are you looking for??”

Jeez!  This dude wastes no time.  I respond by saying, “You really put a girl on the spot.”

He says, “Sorry.  I am kinda blunt.”  No freaking kidding dude.  I can see that.

After a bit more texting back and forth I begin to receive more and more annoying/weird/creepy/crazy messages.

Preacher Man texts, “FYI…you have curves for days.”

Not only did this annoy me, but it pissed me off slightly.  I get this from men all the time and I just want to meet someone that doesn’t bring this up immediately.  Don’t get me wrong…I want someone to think that I am sexy and desirable, but it doesn’t have to be pointed out.  I see myself naked daily…tell me something that I don’t know.  It pissed me off because it made me think he had the wrong intentions.  And immediately I begin to think that Preacher Man is a closet freak.  I responded to him by saying, “Yes…this I know.”

He says, “I need a better view.”  WTF?!  Seriously dude?!

I say, “Easy tiger!”

He says, “A pic is all I mean.”  This really pisses me off.  I instantly think you are a creep if you begin requesting pics of me.  This conversation goes back and forth.  He sends another text that says, “I don’t like sticks.”  Quit trying to move the conversation back to a conversation about my curves.  Fuck!

I finally make it back home and tell him that it is late and I am about to get comfy and head to bed.  He responds, “Comfy as in what? Lol.”  Adding an Lol to the end of a text with a sexual innuendo does not make it light hearted/joking.  It makes you look like an idiot.  I told him that clearly I was intimidated by his job title for no reason.  He continues to ask a lot of questions.  “Do you have a wild side?”, “Do you like to get rowdy?”, “Do you get drunk?”, “What do you do for fun?”, etc.

I ignore a few of the ridiculous questions.  I tell him that currently I do not consume alcohol due to a strict diet that I am following, but that I do drink.  I also say that the majority of my time is consumed with work and training at the gym because I am currently preparing for a bikini fitness show.

He says, “Bikini??  I wanna see that Lol.  Any bikini pics??”

Picture request number two!  This guy is skating on thin ice and is definitely getting on my nerves.  I told Preacher Man that I do not send pictures like that.

His response, “Let’s FaceTime then.”

Dude!! You are psycho!  We just met a few hours ago.  WTF is wrong with you?  I tell him my iPhone 5 is broken and that the 3GS I am currently using does not have FaceTime.  He says, “Well send one pic and I will delete it.  This is a compromise.”  Fuck you dude.  I tell this douche that there is more to me than curves and a bikini body.  I go to bed fuming.  Honestly…the nerve of this guy.

The next day he starts texting me.  Clearly he is very desperate and horny so he doesn’t follow a three day rule.  He asks me if I am all dolled up for work and requests another picture.  This guy clearly can not focus on anything else other than my appearance.  I am over this already!  He then sends texts asking me more questions about my bikini contest.  “Why do you want to do a bikini contest?”, “What all does this contest entail?”, etc.

I answer his questions and he responds, “I have never dated anyone that has done a bikini contest so I don’t know if I like it or not.  Do you have a Mac?”

I say, “It is my first contest.  I am doing this for myself and to accomplish a goal.  I do have a Mac, why?”

He responds, “In my line of work I just do not know how I would like it personally, but it is not a deal breaker.”

F you dude!  A) We are not dating.  We just met yesterday.  B)  I didn’t ask for your opinion.  C)  It’s ok for you to repeatedly ask me for bikini pics, pictures of my curves, and for me to FaceTime, but a bikini fitness show is not ok with you.  Can you say hypocrite?

I decide to take the high road and I send him a message saying, “I am not sure that our lives mesh in every area.  This bikini fitness show is something that I have enjoyed working toward so far and I am not willing to give that up.  I am doing this for myself and not for anyone else.  I can understand not everyone agreeing with it and that is ok, but I work really hard for this and I will not give it up.”

Preacher Man says, “I respect your stance.  I still would enjoy getting to know you though.”

I said, “There are going to be things with our lives that probably conflict.  Your job has certain standards or whatever that are required by you and I feel like there are things in my life that are important to me that conflict with your life.”

He said, “Like what??  What else do you think will be a conflict?”

I said, “I am quite liberal about many things.  And I stand my ground on things I feel strongly about.”

His response, “I could tell you were when you walked in the coffee shop.  Your confidence is very attractive and is one of the reasons why I found you so attractive.  Liberal about what things?  We sound a lot alike.  We have strong beliefs and stand our ground.”

Seriously?!  We couldn’t be more opposite.  Let the train wreck begin…

I say, “I am very liberal about social issues you may or may not agree with.  Like gay marriage, alcohol consumption, pro choice, etc.”

He says, “Can you explain how you feel about these social issues?”

I feel like I am being interviewed or interrogated.  Jeez!  So much for taking the high road and trying to let this douche down gently.  This was about to get interesting.  The debate got a little heated.  I am going to spare most of the details because it got to be ugly and extremely offensive/disrespectful to me.

After I speak my mind he says, “I am enjoying this and respect you and your beliefs.  You are becoming more and more attractive by the way.”  I ask him why and he responds, “Because of your heart and your passion.  I wish you would FaceTime me.”

Seriously!  He then says, “FYI…I haven’t been attracted to anyone like I am to you in a very, very long time.  Can I be blunt for a sec and get personal?”  Oh really?  Now you are going to ask.  Seems to me that you have been blunt and personal since the beginning.  I see the blog potential in this and tell him sure.

He says, “Have you had sex?”

I was so shocked that he asked this that I sort of froze.  I wish I had responded by saying, “Had sex today?  Oh yes! Several times.”  I wish I had done this just to mess with him, but I simply said “Yes.”  I then asked him the same question.  I wanted to see if he was a sexually frustrated virgin or a closet freak as I suspected.  He answers my question and moves the conversation back to the gay debate.  This guy is unbelievable!  I mean seriously!

He then starts discussing vaginal feeling, throbbing sensations of a penis, the asshole versus sensory glands of a penis and vagina, etc.  I can not make this shit up.  A Baptist youth minister…seriously?!

I get really angry and tell him that I do not need an anatomy lesson from him.  I am completely appalled.  I also say that I am done discussing this.

He says, “I still want to see you.  I want to hug you and even maybe kiss you.”

Dude…you are seriously fucked in the head.

I decide to just quit responding to this psycho.  He continues to text me over the next several days.

“Good morning. :)”

“How are you??”

“Hey you. 🙂 How are you?”

“Hey you. 😉 How are you??”

“I just wanted to say it was so nice to meet you.  It’s been a really long time since someone got my attention both physically and emotionally.”

“I can tell you are a beautiful woman not only on the outside but on the inside as well.  If you ever want to meet up please let me know.  I would be more than happy to meet you halfway or drive to you.  I hope to talk to you soon.”

This was the final message.  Hopefully this douche got the hint.  What I learned from this situation:  I would rather be an open sinner than a false saint.

*I would like to say that nothing was harmed in creating this blog…except for maybe my pride.