Skip to main content

One I Didn't Bone

T

The good news is, I don't remember this guy's name, so I don't have to change it to regale you with this story.

I started chatting with a rugged looking woodworker on Plenty of Fish. 

A note: when I got married in 2008, I completely missed the boat on this idea of online dating. So, after my divorce in 2013 and some failed attempts at dating again, using an app seemed like a novel idea. I mean, this was ALLOWED now? 

I was still living with my mother's voice in my head, telling me that I'd end up straight murdered or worse. 

So, this guy looked fine, I mean pphhhine, in his online dating photos. And he made custom furniture?! It sounded like I'd just met Aiden and now I'm all Carrie Bradshaw with a perfect date planned.

We were supposed to do dinner on Saturday night. Some sort of picnic type thing, maybe?

Again, I'm fuzzy on that since it never happened.

Friday night, the day before, I'm out with a best friend and we're living it up at our favorite bar. It's getting late, almost 2 am, so we've got a couple more hours before last call. (Louisville bars staying open until 4 probably almost did me in during my twenties early thirties adulthood.)

Anyway, I'm texting with Modern Woodman, who asks to or decides he's going to come up to the bar to say hello.

My friend was pissed out the gate. She thought we should have just waited for our Actual Date the next night. 

So, Wood Worker shows up -- and looks no where near as attractive as he did in photos. I was pretty good and drunk, but my beer googles did right by me. This guy was fugly. And I don't mean to insinuate that I'm shallow, it's just that there was an expectation of a certain level of Good Lookingness because of the hot photos and he was about a two. 

A two with a cold sore.

So, my friend gives him the business and says, "What are you doing coming up here at 2 am? You couldn't just wait until tomorrow to meet her at an appropriate time?" And he was a DICK to her!

Guy gets pissed and walks to the bar for a drink. I ask my friend if she's willing to get rid of him while I run to the restroom. 

She's a good friend, y'all. 

So apparently she tells him while I'm in the restroom that the date is NO LONGER HAPPENING and that he needs to head home before she gets the security guy, who she's friends with. 

He's storming out of the bar as I'm emerging from the restroom. He has parting words for me.

"Enjoy your Wal Mart Life," he spits as he speaks. "Fuckin' Indiana girls."

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

fetal friday?

I know that I left everyone hanging yesterday. You know, when I went to pee on that stick. (That was mean of me. Not the peeing, but the leaving hanging.) Well, I think the big reveal is best expressed in letter form. Deep breath. Here goes. dear unborn baby daughter son or daughter, I take it back. I take back everything I said about not wanting kids. I was just scaredspice, and the slightest bit selfish, and maybe I had a giant fear of commitment. But, three positive test results in the last eighteen hours seem to say that you actually are in there, getting all comfy. I guess you'll probably be here in mid-December. I never thought about having a Christmas baby. (You've really put a wrench in my whole taking-maternity-leave-during-the-NCAA-tournament plan, but that's okay. At least it's basketball season. Don't tell Daddy yet, but you are going to cheer for the Indiana Hoosiers.) Speaking of Daddy, I take back all the mean things I've ever sa...
38 comments
Read more

a little ashamed

I've been feeling a little guilty lately. I think I'm sort of obsessed with my own blog. Seriously, I adore coming home for lunch in the middle of my workday. My plan is always to sit down and write. It's the perfect time to work. There are no distractions (other than the hungry rumble in my tummy) or reasons that I shouldn't be able to churn out a good amount of words before I head back to the world of checking account deposits and cash-in tickets. However, I find that when I come home for lunch, all I want to do is blog. My reader is full as a good girl's Christmas stocking, and then there's my own post -- just waiting to be written. Something alarmingly witty, for sure. Something that will generate the multiple comments I will hungrily read from my cell phone when I sneak out for a cigarette break at 4:00. So, I avoid the writing -- you know, of the fiction variety. I sit here, instead watching the text fill the blank screen of a New Po...
22 comments
Read more

Sarah, Plain and Tall

Seriously, Sarah? I am more irritated with you now than I was when you called Katie Couric perky on Oprah this week (and wasn't that the annoying pot calling the whistling kettle black?) and more irritated than I was when the interview with Katie Couric aired and you couldn't think of one book or magazine that you read on the regular. (Oh, I'm sorry - you chose not to disclos e the titles of books and magazines and newspaper you devour, because Katie Couric was annoying you and treating you like an uneducated inuit.) Maybe you should have just swallowed your ego and mentioned Newsweek. I mean, I'm not suggesting that the cover page would look different if you had, but could you try any harder to alienate the media? I know, I know, they are all evil, with their leftist agendas and loose morals. I understand. It's so difficult when the world won't give a feminist maverick a fighting chance, and harder still when that maverick has been ordered to stay on scrip...
20 comments
Read more