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Archive for April, 2010

So, I had a date with Type Geek last night… I will commit to sitting down and giving a full update later. I am posting this mini post so that I can set myself up for success on this cleanse I am doing. If I tell YOU about it, then you can yell at me if I seem to waver. I am doing the “Master Cleanse”. I have done it before, it’s great, NOT dangerous if done right, don’t worry, blah blah blah. It’s the Grade B Maple Syrup, Organic Lemon Juice, Cayenne Pepper and Purified Water thing. Day 1 of what I hope will be a minimum of 12 days. I am aiming to end on the 12th and phase back into real food over the next remaining days. The goal being, real healthy food being chewed once again by moi in regular meal form by May 15th. Wish me luck. Even if I make it ten days, I will be stoked.

So, the countdown begins…

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I haven’t updated my blog over the last several days because the allergies have kicked me in the face. Seriously, Claritin is NOT my best friend… what is this only one a day. What if I take 2? What will happen? Sigh. Cough. Sniffle. Aaaaccchoo. Grumble. Here is information then on the last 3 of my 5 dates from last week.

The date I was looking most forward to last week, Frenchie on Friday, didn’t happen due to some issues with his dissertation he is working on. I understood BUT I didn’t necessarily want to. I wanted to kick the dirt like a bummed out little kid. Two SHITTY dates in a row last week and all I was really looking forward to was some smoochies. Sigh. There is always Meh and Eh, right? I still have the Saturday and Sunday dates.

Wrong.

So, Type Geek couldn’t get his new car registered on Friday and had to do it on Saturday, which meant our hanging out on Saturday was nixed BUT we decided that we would hang on Sunday and go for a long drive to break in the new car. That meant moving the Sunday coffee date with the Modernist Architect to Saturday, if he was around. The architect said that he had some errands but that he would be around by 5ish, so I should text him and we could plan something. I texted him at 1:30… no texts from him, but then a phone call from him at 7. At that point I was done. I had been out with my dog since 11:30 and after having brunch with my friend, the former date option known as Musician/Writer/Assoc Prod guy, and laying in the grass in the sun with him and a friend of his, AND wandering miles window shopping, yes, dog still in tow, I was really exhausted. I had dinner at PF Changs with my barista friend and swore at the manager who allowed the dog on the patio, then moved us because of health code violations, and generally, was just annoying in a very argh kind of pedantic way. Needless to say, I opted out of my coffee meet and greet with the architect at that point and headed home for cuddles in bed with the pooch.

Now, midday Saturday I received a picture text from Type Geek, the new car had a blow out and so the long drive might be out for Sunday. Ok. Fair enough. I do offer to pick him up at his house on Sunday though, incase he is interested in a mini trek out to the all mighty IKEA.  I had some returns I needed to make, so I thought it might be a good replacement plan. Turns out that his tire wasn’t in stock at the dealer and so he spent 3 days at his parents house waiting for the car to be fixed. His parents live several hours away and he thought he could get a better car price from the dealer near them, hence how he ended up at his folks place. Alas, my day was spent at Home Depot, Ikea and Whole Foods and without a date. My dog came along though.

Where does this leave me for the coming week. Hmmpf. Well, I have  a reschedule with Type Geek for a Thursday night rock show at a local venue. That’s it so far. There is a cute documentary filmmaker who just sent me an email through the dating site though, so, who knows?  I’m also wondering if I am going to hear from Brooklyn. Yes, him. I still talk to him, just don’t mention him in here.  I laid some stuff on the table for him last Friday when we chatted. Curious what he chooses to do with that info. Curious what the future brings.

Tuesday posts are web syndicated by www.thenewgay.net

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Date Night 1:

I met Heavy Metal Choo Choo outside the train station and we walked past all the places I was thinking we might go. He wanted cocktails and a patio. Sounded good to me. However, next thing I know we are in a dark sports bar, with 20 screens surrounding us while he drinks a black/tan and eats a fried chicken sandwich with extra mayo and fried potatoes. At this point he confesses a love for Big Macs and KFC while staring at the hockey playoff game on one screen and the baseball game on another. Please god, shoot me now. What part of me looks like a sports bar gal? My profile also says I am a foodie, with a food allergy… so, wtf man? How to make a great first impression: try taking your townie ass out of sneakers and a sports bar on a first date. IF you must watch a certain game, do NOT schedule a date that night.

So, the games end within a few minutes of each other and rather than relaxing from his agro cheering mode and actually acting like a date, he looks at my cup of decaf, asks if I am done and says he needs to head home because it is getting late and he has to get up at 5. HA HA HA. Yes, the only difference between a regular evening for him and this first date was that he was at a bar and I happened to be sitting across from him.

The next morning he sent me a text letting me know that he had a “lovely time” and was wondering if I would like to do it again sometime. Are you fucking kidding me? THAT was a “lovely time”? Pass.

Date Night 2: Uber Douche Bag

Yes, I was late. I took a nap, it threw me off. Then the dog refused to pee, which slowed me down AND I missed the bus I needed. I communicated the whole time via text message and said I felt horrible. He said it wasn’t a big deal, he was catching up on emails and to take my time. I finally get there and he seems attractive and nice. Then….

So, 10 minutes in he tells me that his unbalanced, slightly crazy friend, might swing by. Apparently he is in town from Europe and they have been trying to meet up and it might be the only night he can say hi. Okay, a friend is showing up on our first date. Hmm. I’ll cut him slack for it because it’s a friend from Europe that is only in town for a few more days. The friend arrives about 20 minutes later. Our food had arrived and we were drinking some wine, the friend seemed less crazy than he was presented as being. Quirky, yes. A certifiable crazy freak, no. Ten minutes into the friends arrival and they start talking about another friend of theirs, whom they then decide to invite out. Hmm, ok, so apparently I am now hanging with the boys. Oh, and I thought this man worked in finance but apparently he is a professor of biology at a local university. Now, BioProf has overstepped the lines of acceptable by making me a tag along on his night out with the boys. Suddenly he decides he wants to stand, after spending too much time smoking a cigarette outside. He abruptly decides to move us to the bar area and orders us new drinks. He’s already over there while his friend and I are grabbing our coats from the booth cushions. Hmm, hey BioProf douche bag, how about waiting for us before you pounce on the pussy you met outside. That was exactly what it was too. We looked over and saw him standing next to this woman and his friend made a comment to the effect of BioProf’s not so subtle hard on for the girl he met. Coincidentally, I had met the girl in the bathroom 15 minutes before and we had already bonded, which was an amusing surprise to him, when he tried to introduce us at the bar. The girl and I wandered off for some chatty gossip and then guess who happened by? the TURK. HA HA HA. He happened to walk by and then proceeded to chat us girls up, meanwhile BioProf caught a glimpse of him and walked over with a chip on his shoulder. He suddenly walks over and when I introduced them, BioProf starts calling him Mohammed and being quite offensive to him. In an attempt to make the Turk look like an insignificant tool, as he called him later, he just made himself look like a fear based aggressive dog who acts out towards things he sees as a threat, rather than being secure in his own energy and space. That is why he kept insulting his friends and dismissing them. he wanted them there so that he could make fun of them. That’s exhausting juvenile behavior for a 35-year-old ph’d professor.

When the Turk and the bar hottie walked away for a bit, he asked me if I was talking him up to her. I’m like, so, I am your wing man or your date? He said he doesn’t usually admit it on a date but that he was digging her. Really, no shit. Ha. He digs tight jeans and tank tops with tits. I’m not that girl. I also never was that girl in my dating side profile.

He isn’t getting the reaction he wants at the bar and doesn’t like that the Turk keeps coming over and saying hello and hugging me, even though he himself isn’t interested, apparently I am still off-limits for other men to speak to me, because he is buying my drinks. In the middle of our drinks he decides we are going to a different bar and walks out of the bar. We end up across the street at a different bar filled with a lot of young women looking for older men with money. He’s eyeing the crowd for hot women. YAWN. Boring. We grab a drink and then get yanked down to the lower level bar. He then runs into a guy he works with who is there with a girl and suddenly we sit down. I decide to leave as soon as he comes back from the latest cigarette because the train is coming soon and luckily I am right across the street from it at the moment. He is not worth spending the money on a cab   to get home. The night was amusing, otherwise I would not have tagged along, but really, you must be kidding me. If you can’t make it through a date without scoping out a potential lay from someone else, don’t go on the date.

I said goodnight to everyone and planted a kiss on douche bag, just to see. Being as selfish and insecure and rude as he had been being, I had a feeling his kiss would suck. It did. I did, however, succeed in making him stop in his tracks and do a double take. I may not have large tits and wear tight jeans to get boys attention, but I kiss like a fucking rock star. So, there was a little taste of what you could have had, if you had played a better game, shit head.

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