Ay Papi

July 14, 2011

So, remember that part where i said that all this online dating eventually might culminate into one thing…actually having to go on a date? Well, I said it thinking that judging by the way these 3 sites were going, I wouldn’t have to worry about it for a while.

Fast forward to me having a date on friday with the AC/same shirt Wild Child, and talking the nice guy (also courtesy of eharmony) all the time. Like all day, everyday. Which was fun, until I started to think, you know, it’s been a few days of chatting, texting, game playing, and emailing and yet, I have never spoke to him, no idea what his voice sounds like and for all I know I could be trading winks and banter with some 75 year old man or a lady. Hell, who knows. I mean, I know a guy who met a woman (on a sex site, helllloooo adult friend finder, he found a friend alright ahaahaaa–ok back to story so you can laugh too), and he was a little paranoid (um, it’s sex site–not being paranoid sounds about as smart as showing up with only 1 condom and slippery fingers), so he asked her to call him so he could verify and hear her voice. She did and so they set a date to meet for lunch. He walks in (undoubtedly sporting condoms and a cheeky smug grin) to the lunch restaurant and low and behold who is waiting for him? The 30ish lady he is expecting? The giggling beauty on the phone? Nope. A 65 year old man. That’s right folks, he showed up penis and all. My friend was (ahaahaaa, man I WISH I could have seen his face) shocked. The guy apparently had a high squeaky voice (so he wasn’t sure if it was him on the phone with his high girly been-kicked-in-the-balls-one-too-many-times voice, or if he had a female friend pretend for him). Either way, the guy said that he thought if he came all the way there, he would just, you know, ignore the pool cue and balls and “just do it anyway.” Now, I don’t know about you, but the gender of the person I’m banging, sometimes…often…you know…occcccassionalllly comes into play when having sex. Maybe it is just me, but if I expected to put my boomshackalacka into some lady’s whoohaa, and she showed up with another boomshackalacka, um, sounds like a problem to me. The best part, is the dude was surprised when he turned him down–but, quickly asked if he at least wanted to grab some lunch. Right. lol. And I thought my dates were bad…at least they come with the parts I’m expecting. (Oh, man, let’s hope) lol.

Anyway, so WildChild and I are going out this week. I’m not sure what to say about it. He seems nice, and so I feel kind of like an ass dishing about it, but at the same time, I’m being honest. It’s not like I’m mischaracterizing the situation…just commenting on it. Yeah, I’m so going to hell. Ugh. Anyway, he let me pick the movie, which was sweet. We were going to go out earlier in the week but he said he had a doctors appointment. Of course, being the sweetie that I am, I said that I hoped he was ok and that the appointment goes well. He responded that he was fine, he was just going in to be evaluated for weight loss surgery. Que? Now, I don’t know that I would share that kind of info with my friends, forget a woman I just met online, have never met, and am trying to woo. Maybe it’s me, but someone needs a filter. I mean, I’ve seen his pics (are they accurate? we shall seeee), and he is definitely a bit heavy/chubby, but still cute and whatever, I may be lots of things, but at the moment skinny isn’t one of them. (Granted, I’ve lost 13 pounds in a week—and I am so hungry I could eat this blog right now). Anyway, point is, I realize, sadly from personal experience, that it is what is on the inside that really does matter. Your partner can be hot as hell, but if you want to club him to death every time he opens his mouth, or daydream about stabbing yourself in the face with a blunt spoon (for entertainment) b/c he is SO DAMM BORING, well, it isn’t going to work out. At least not past the putting the clothing back on and doing the walk of shame part. Def not.

Weight can be gained and lost, but that other shit is permanent.

So, yeah, me, date, weightlosssurgery guy (oh, if only he didn’t already have a name). I’ll let you know. Hopefully, I can make it through the movie without him strangling me, trying to smother me after one too many biting comments, or me wishing I had a blunt spoon in my purse….

About the nice guy. He seems nice, but then he also kicked my butt at a game last night. And I hate losing. Even more than that, I hate the thought that this guy might be better than me at something. Stupid and vain right. Well, nice to meet you. It’s not that I’m a bad loser, just that I’m a way better winner. I think it also really shocked me because while he seemed nice and all, I had clearly underestimated him. I didn’t expect to meet an equal–certainly not–and here he is. All kicking my butt (and when I say kicking my butt, I mean, ASS meet HAND, yah, it was that bad). I’ve met maybe one equal before, sigh, and that went awry for so many reasons (mostly because I wouldn’t leave my husband and run off into the sunset with him after he divorced his wife “for me.” Uhhh yeah, maybe you should have asked me about that idea BEFORE deconstructing your life on the assumption that our friendship could end up in a sunset, hello). Anyway, I don’t know if he is an equal yet, and I haven’t met him yet, but Im pretty sure, being that I kinda like him, that he won’t like me in person. Yep. I mean, it can’t work out so nicely right? Right. GOD, I could eat my arm right now.

I haven’t had it in me to check match or POF today. I’ve gotten the emails, and yeah, yeah, we all know that 400000000 people want to meet you on POF, aka bang your face off, thanks. I’m just not in the mood to see idiot after idiot send me one word emails and suggest I give them a call sometime. Who just gives out their number to strangers?? Unsoliciting strangers for that matter? And match, ugh, I keep getting emails (can I get my money back?) because this may be a dating site, but apparently the men who sign up didn’t get that memo. All the emails are just like POF except exceptionally veiled. Where on POF the profile says nothing pertinent and the description is like “looking for the right lady to spoil” (and of course the obligatory bathroom shirt off picture to go with it), on match they are wearing clothes and writing how they enjoy running marathons (read: Chasing you around the parking lot so they can molest you) or going out to eat (self explanatory, just insert mind into gutter). Not happening today. Maybe I’ll try again tomorrow. You know, if I don’t fall in love on my date and magically transform into one of those people who think love is all we need and monogamy is a good plan. Yeah. OK. Sure.

Love is all we need. aahaahahaahaaaaaaaaaa.

You know what took it out of me? Driving in traffic in NYC. Not even because of the traffic or congestion, or any of that. Because of the sketch factor. Is it just me, or are men picking up women in traffic? From their car. Yah. THEIR CAR. I was driving on the Grand Central Parkway, traffic, as usual and I notice this SUV (covered in stickers, huge Puerto Rican Flag hanging from the rearview mirror, large –shockingly somewhat hot–man in the driver’s seat with a dew rag on) that keeps pulling up alongside me. I look over and to my surprise, he is gesturing to me (also surprising, the gestures were PG). My window was already down, and he rolled his so he could yell to me from his car. Now traffic picks up, and we start going faster, and yet he stays next to me. (I’m thinking, this will be cute to explain to my insurance company when we crash). Anyway, he yells to me that I should take HIS number down. With what? My invisible pen and paper I keep on me while driving? Sure I had my cell there (which he yelled over that I should put it into), but he wanted to give ME HIS number. Wait. For what? So I could call and ask him out? So I could be his booty call? Eh, yeah, no thanks. So I yelled back he should take mine instead. He acted like I suggested he pull over and cut out his liver on the side of the road and eat it. I shrugged, and sped off, leaving him in the dust. Ok, there was no dust, being NYC, but I left him trapped in a slower lane, which by nyc standards, is so dust. He was cute, but on principle I turned him down. Recently I also had a uhaul driver try to pick me up, and a driver in a delivery type white van who tried to convince me to get off at his exit. I know it is hard to meet people to date, but really, 50 miles an hour winks and yelling from car windows isn’t the answer. Right? Ugh. Maybe I let prince charming get away on the GCP. At the least, I definitely gave up a chance to be called Mami and have my ass slapped. Darn.

Maybe next time. 😉

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7 Responses to “Ay Papi”

  1. IronHorse said

    I am honored . . . and, I could only have one thing to say, in light of your amazing significance, and your Stories . . .

    http://www.thevoyageofkings.com/index_files/Page695.htm

    Anam Cara,

    IH

  2. I guess your friend should have brought two condoms lolol. Good luck on your dates and I say the same thing about weight. You can always lose it, but an asshole is there for life.

  3. lily. said

    …wow, your blog is amazing! How did I survive this long without your hilarious, well-written tales of dating disasters?!

    I am hooked! This is a must-read blog. <333

    • FoxyBlur said

      aww thanks love! Your blog rocks too! I wish I had a blog about happily ever after, but alas, that wouldn’t be me, nor my life. sadly lol. there is worse to come….

  4. I just have no words, Mami.
    You broke my heart and left me in the slow lane of dust.

    Eat your arm??
    Seriously, please never get the therapy you so badly need or your writing will suffer.
    Happy and well adjusted people are so boring.

give it to me baby, uh huh, uh huh....

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