I may have mentioned it previously, but I'm single. Yeah, I know ... shocking.
Apparently there are a lot of younger guys out there who are into older women. I hate to use the term "older" because it makes me think that dust is going to fly out of my vagina or something, but I've seriously been hit on by guys who could have been my son if I'd gotten knocked up in high school like so many people thought I would. ;)
So last night I was "chatting" with a guy who is 10 years younger than me. He claimed he didn't have some kind of fetish for older women or fantasy he was trying to fulfill, but instead was just attracted to older women. I believed him. For about 10 minutes.
Right out of the shoot he asks me my measurements. I told him it was none of his business (I didn't drop any "f bombs." I was still trying to let him think I'm a nice girl). He then asked me a lot of other personal questions, all leading back to when the last time I'd had sex and how old the person was. Very odd questions, all which I diverted like the nimble gazelle that I am ...
He then decided to share with me that he had an affair with his mom's best friend when he was 17 and she was 37. No biggie. Every kid's fantasy to get busy with their mom's hot friend. I can handle that one.
But then, right after he asked me how big MY boobs are, he mentioned that he'd bought his mom fake boobs for her birthday .... No kids, I'm not making this shit up.
I asked him why and he said because she had "always wanted them," and then bragged about how he "was the first one to see them after the surgery."
WHAT. THE. FUCK??!!
Am I the only one that thinks it is sick and wrong to: 1) pay for a boob job for your mom, and; 2) actually want to LOOK at your mom's new boobs, and; 3) brag about it??!!
I quickly ended that conversation with Captain Pervo and chalked that up to one more reason why I shouldn't date much younger men.
On a side note, "Mr. A," I'm still waiting for you to send me an e-mail so we can catch up. No fair hiding behind one-way comments. :) spiffychic3@gmail.com.
If anyone else wants to shoot me a message, I love random e-mails. They make me happy! Tell me what to write about if you have any ideas. I'm tired of bitching about my lack-of-dating life.
Peace out.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Yes ... more dating stories ...
So, I feel like a broken record, but it's just the way my life is at the moment. I've got a lot of fucked up dating stories! Ready for another one? I thought so ...
I should first say that I have met some nice guys, just nothing that had me doodling hearts around his name or imagining what it would be like to ride his face like a wild stallion. But, I digress.
The first guy I'll call "Mr. Librarian" well, because, he was a librarian. Go ahead, laugh, but I thought I'd give it a try.
Mr. Librarian was a little awkward on the phone (ok, he was a lot awkward), but I chalked that up to nerves and thought it was kind of cute. What drew me to him you ask? His love of the band Soundgarden and playing bar trivia. Yep. I'm a sucker for music and obscure, trivial knowledge.
We met for dinner and the minute he walked in the door I knew it was going to be a painful dinner. He just simply wasn't my type. AT ALL. Regardless of our two commonalities. He was awkward and timid and jerky and had no sense of humor, whatsoever. It's a rarity when I'm not wisecracking every 10 minutes or so, and let's just say my librarian joke did not generate the laugh I'd expected ...
We finished dinner, parted ways and as I was driving down the street, he started calling me. I didn't answer, and he called AGAIN! This time he left a voicemail asking me out for the weekend. I had plans later that evening (yes, I double-booked with a better back-up plan that I've nicknamed "Meat," but I'll talk about him another day ... maybe), so I hadn't planned on letting him down until the next day.
Before I had a chance to call him, he texted me the next morning asking, "So, are you still interested or no?" Pushy much?? The answer, Mr. Librarian, is "NO!" I was nice about it, but told him the truth; our personalities are too different, plus I'm pretty sure he's still a virgin and I'm too old to train someone.
Moving on ... the next prospect I'll call "Freud" because he thought that since he spent four-years in college and ended up with an undergrad in psychology and a C average, that he was some kind of fucking genius who could analyze everything about me. Mistake numero uno.
I won tickets to a Social D show, so I asked him if he'd like to go. Pretty awesome first date with someone you've never met, huh? I figured we were in public place and I had a lot of friends who were going as well, so I was safe if he turned into some kind of freak.
He was attractive and kind of cool, but started analyzing my past relationships, my actions and intentions and then decided it was OK to start groping my ass a mere two hours after we'd met. Sorry, Freud. I have a strict eight hour rule. Deal. :)
At the end of the evening (after he'd drank half of the bar) he decided to ask me how much money I made and then proceeded to ask me where I spend my money. I kindly told him it was none of his fucking business how much I make or where I spend my money and right about then, I was ready to go home. He then told me his "strategy" was to get me agitated so my "heart rate would rise and I'd remember him." Like I said ... Freud, or should I say, fraud??
Well, his strategy worked enough for me to give it another chance, so we went out to dinner on Saturday. He didn't want to come to my house and pick me up because it would be "a pain" to find me, so we met at the restaurant. (Strike one).
Did I mention he drinks A LOT? Well he started complaining about how he couldn't get drunk because he'd eaten (like it's a normal goal to get shit faced no matter where you go - Strike two) and then proceeded to tell me sordid tales from his youthful attempts at cat burglary. I guess he thought if he painted himself out to be a "bad boy" it would get me all lathered up. It didn't work.
He also thought it was appropriate to grab my ass and comment on its "firmness" and try to literally dry hump me in the middle of the bar. STEEEERIKE THREE! You're OUT! Note to potential future dates: I am not a prude and I appreciate public displays of affection, but do NOT think for one second you can maul me in public and make me look like a fucking floozy fool and that it's OK. It's NOT OK!
I finally got out from under that bullshit and politely told him that we were just too different. I didn't feel the need to berate him or humiliate him, just to get rid of him. I will admit, though, that I've saved his voicemail messages to listen to when I need a good laugh and in case he turns into a stalker. Thank you Jesus he didn't come pick me up!!
I think Spiffy is going to lay low on the dating scene for a while. I don't think my heart and head can take much more of it. Someone once wrote that (online) dating is like opening the refrigerator over and over again, expecting to see something new and discovering it's the same, old leftovers.
I'm tired of leftovers. I think I'll stick with my single-serving meals and side of Meat for a while ... :)
I should first say that I have met some nice guys, just nothing that had me doodling hearts around his name or imagining what it would be like to ride his face like a wild stallion. But, I digress.
The first guy I'll call "Mr. Librarian" well, because, he was a librarian. Go ahead, laugh, but I thought I'd give it a try.
Mr. Librarian was a little awkward on the phone (ok, he was a lot awkward), but I chalked that up to nerves and thought it was kind of cute. What drew me to him you ask? His love of the band Soundgarden and playing bar trivia. Yep. I'm a sucker for music and obscure, trivial knowledge.
We met for dinner and the minute he walked in the door I knew it was going to be a painful dinner. He just simply wasn't my type. AT ALL. Regardless of our two commonalities. He was awkward and timid and jerky and had no sense of humor, whatsoever. It's a rarity when I'm not wisecracking every 10 minutes or so, and let's just say my librarian joke did not generate the laugh I'd expected ...
We finished dinner, parted ways and as I was driving down the street, he started calling me. I didn't answer, and he called AGAIN! This time he left a voicemail asking me out for the weekend. I had plans later that evening (yes, I double-booked with a better back-up plan that I've nicknamed "Meat," but I'll talk about him another day ... maybe), so I hadn't planned on letting him down until the next day.
Before I had a chance to call him, he texted me the next morning asking, "So, are you still interested or no?" Pushy much?? The answer, Mr. Librarian, is "NO!" I was nice about it, but told him the truth; our personalities are too different, plus I'm pretty sure he's still a virgin and I'm too old to train someone.
Moving on ... the next prospect I'll call "Freud" because he thought that since he spent four-years in college and ended up with an undergrad in psychology and a C average, that he was some kind of fucking genius who could analyze everything about me. Mistake numero uno.
I won tickets to a Social D show, so I asked him if he'd like to go. Pretty awesome first date with someone you've never met, huh? I figured we were in public place and I had a lot of friends who were going as well, so I was safe if he turned into some kind of freak.
He was attractive and kind of cool, but started analyzing my past relationships, my actions and intentions and then decided it was OK to start groping my ass a mere two hours after we'd met. Sorry, Freud. I have a strict eight hour rule. Deal. :)
At the end of the evening (after he'd drank half of the bar) he decided to ask me how much money I made and then proceeded to ask me where I spend my money. I kindly told him it was none of his fucking business how much I make or where I spend my money and right about then, I was ready to go home. He then told me his "strategy" was to get me agitated so my "heart rate would rise and I'd remember him." Like I said ... Freud, or should I say, fraud??
Well, his strategy worked enough for me to give it another chance, so we went out to dinner on Saturday. He didn't want to come to my house and pick me up because it would be "a pain" to find me, so we met at the restaurant. (Strike one).
Did I mention he drinks A LOT? Well he started complaining about how he couldn't get drunk because he'd eaten (like it's a normal goal to get shit faced no matter where you go - Strike two) and then proceeded to tell me sordid tales from his youthful attempts at cat burglary. I guess he thought if he painted himself out to be a "bad boy" it would get me all lathered up. It didn't work.
He also thought it was appropriate to grab my ass and comment on its "firmness" and try to literally dry hump me in the middle of the bar. STEEEERIKE THREE! You're OUT! Note to potential future dates: I am not a prude and I appreciate public displays of affection, but do NOT think for one second you can maul me in public and make me look like a fucking floozy fool and that it's OK. It's NOT OK!
I finally got out from under that bullshit and politely told him that we were just too different. I didn't feel the need to berate him or humiliate him, just to get rid of him. I will admit, though, that I've saved his voicemail messages to listen to when I need a good laugh and in case he turns into a stalker. Thank you Jesus he didn't come pick me up!!
I think Spiffy is going to lay low on the dating scene for a while. I don't think my heart and head can take much more of it. Someone once wrote that (online) dating is like opening the refrigerator over and over again, expecting to see something new and discovering it's the same, old leftovers.
I'm tired of leftovers. I think I'll stick with my single-serving meals and side of Meat for a while ... :)
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