“I Went on a Date with a Narcissist, & All I Got Was This Lousy CD”

June 6, 2012

Now, as you might have imagined, I knew the asskiss goodbye from assman/explode-a-buttinksi was coming, so it wasn’t the only thing I had cooking lol. On to the fun….

 

Let’s Play Strip Jenga Aroooouuuuunnnndddd His Issues.

Awesomeness. Um, no.

Strip Jenga boy tried to make it happen tonight, but when I suggested he come meet near me (versus me going to his place, which I wasn’t comfortable with), he told me he has “anxiety over going new places,” even though he is 37, and I’m a woman and not like, say a mass murdering huge 8 foot strapping lumberjack, but ok. Whatever. Maybe he hacked my amazon account and found out I ordered (in a fit of hilarity) that “The Ex” knife set. (trust me, google it haahaa).

 

Yet, he wants me to come to his house. Yeah, as much as I’d love to be on the news tonight, nah, I think I’m gonna decline. Thanks anyway for the rape/murder/stabbing offer though.

Yah. No.

 

Next time we are going to meet at a bar and call it “uncomfortable for everyone.” Spectacular.

 

During the convo, (during which he was calling me as he waited to get his (little bit of) hair cut. I was also wowed that he told me he thinks he has 3 years of having his hair left. Which, by the way he said it, sounded like that meant he had better meet someone fast before the folicule-apocalypse arrives. Better make the most of those buddy. Ugh. The flat out irony here is I actually love the shaved/bald look on men. And listen, if it is going, and you have like a ring and a bullseye of hair around your head, let it go. PLEASE. Let it go. I mean, I’ve seen so many guys that I looked at and thought, wow you’d be hot if you shaved those remnants of the hair you used to have, and embraced it. Because, it makes you look older. And ugly. There, I said it. Get some Coochie shave cream (I hear it works wonders on the head haahaa), and shave that puppy down. 😉

 

 

 

Rubatugtug One Narcissist In The Tub (minus the happy ending)

So, I still had that date planned from forever ago with our Rubatugtug-happy-endings-by-accident boy and I knew assman was going to bail. So, I get dressed, and even though I had a rough day, I rush out to NJ to meet him. Now, since I did lose a bet, and am required (as my punishment) to do 2 shots at the outset of the date of his choosing, I figured he would pick me up. I’m in NJ, he’s in NJ, we’re going to drink/eat in NJ–actually the place is more near me than near him. And no way I’m drinking after I have 2 shots of anything, sooooooo logically, he’ll pick me up right. Wrong. I thought that was the plan. And as usual, in my blog-o-fun, I’m wrong. Again.

 

I’m not even TO the date and he’s pissed me off. He wants to meet me at the restaurant, which is fine, but it is going to make me even later (if he picked me up it would be faster and we could have that car time to chat), and he thinks I’m going to drink and drive??? No sirrreeeeee. So, I try to put it out of my head–I don’t want to be the bitch and ruin the date b/c I’m annoyed about something stupid.

 
The Date:

I get there. He’s way late. Which is funny, b/c I was late b/c of traffic, and he had like an extra hour to get ready/get there. In fact, he told me he didn’t shave b/c he was originally rushing, but then when I was late he had time to take a nap and play video games. That’s right. A nap. and video games. Still no shaving though. Oook.

 

Now, I can understand being in a rush and late and not shaving. But if you have enough time then later to nap and play video games while you wait for my late ass, (and if you happen to look like a hobo when you haven’t shaved) and PS I took the time to shave and shave and shave some more, not to mention put on perfume, make up, dry my hair, and oh yeah, put on some actual clothes (instead of the jeans, sneakers, and long sleeve flannel, that’s right kids, flannel in July–maybe he has a Christmas in July fetish? that he wore), you could take that extra hour or so and SHAVE. A little. Even just trim it down. Landscape that bitch. Something. Anything. Sigh.

 

When he pulls up he says he was worried because he noticed the Amber Alert on the highway was for a red saturn…and he drives…wait for it…a red saturn. I’m sure the fact that he drives like a dead person also probably would draw a cop’s eye. He goes, “but don’t worry, it isn’t me.” Oh, good, so you don’t have a kid stashed in your trunk? Awesome. Bodes well for the date. Undoubtedly.

 

Talk about a harbinger.

 

 

Truth:

 

Did I mention he sounds like a girl? Drives like one too. Ooooooo low blow, kidding, kidding.

 

But seriously, he drives like he is comatose.

 

For real. Narcoleptics drive faster. While asleep.

 

 

The Prep (or lack thereof):

He did go on a long trip (remember he was away when we met), and said he didn’t realize he was out of nice stuff to wear. Ok, that’s understandable, but did you take EVERYTHING you own besides a flannel shirt with you? He was also staying at an apartment while away. I guess only NJ has washers and dryers? Interesting. Irony, I went out and got a few shirts and skirts for these dates, and agonized over my shoes and lip gloss shade, because I wanted to look nice, make a good impression, and be attractive looking. Silly me, grooming’s for idiots (or apparently, keeping with the theme, in my case, assholes–just not the ones I apparently “date.”)

 

And PS was his hair SUPPOSED to look like that? I was thinking it went with the no-shaving naptime thing. Idk. Maybe the flattened to head look is in and I missed it? Maybe he napped while standing on his head? Maybe it was combing forward and plastered to hide the receding hair line? All I know, is, wow. (please see above about shaving the receding hair, and how sexy it can be. please). Maybe it got matted down as he drove and repeatedly wiped the sweat off his brow/head during that amber alert momentary panic. Yep, sounds about right.

 

 

Chivalry? Oh, no, don’t get up:

Whatever. Dinner was fun, he insisted on paying even though I offered like 3 times to split it (I know, right, I almost fell off my chair!!!!!) Granted he did eat all of his meal and most of mine. He didn’t open any car doors for me, and by the time I got mine open he had his door open, so I couldn’t even be the nice reach over chick. He did open the restaurant door which was nice. (as opposed to letting it like fall on my arm instead like at the bar. Ahh Chivalry).

 

 

After dinner, he follows me home to where I was staying in NJ (after a long analysis where I was like UMmm If I’m drinking I’m not driving, so either you drive and we put my car home, or you entertain me until I’m sober which could be a while). Obviously, being the catch that I am, he didn’t select the “entertain me until I’m sober” option and he instead followed me home to drop off my car.

 

 

Grandpa? Is that you?:

Let me start by saying that I tend to sometimes drive like an asshole. Not always, but sometimes. He said he takes driving very seriously, and I can respect that. He told me he drives like a “sissy,” and by all accounts, well played sir, well played.

 

It was like having a blind person follow me.

 

I turned on a long yellow, he got stuck at the light. Listen, there was enough time in that yellow that after turning through it, I could have stopped, backed the fuck up, and gone through it again. Nope, he’s stuck. Anyway, ten years later I’ve aged and I’m about to nod off driving so damm slow, we get to my house. (NOW, I’m not asking him to speed, that wouldn’t be cool. But if the speed limit is 45, I’m gonna do, you know, 45 mph. WHY THE FUCK ARE WE DOING 25?????!!!!!!???!!!!). Omg. Seriously, I’m nodding off just remembering this part of the story. And you know it’s bad when you put yourself to sleep. At least meet me halfway at 35mph. Ridiculous.

 

I had to physically restrain myself from screaming DRIVE FASTERRRRRRRRRRR!!!!! (either that or pushing him out of the way, and hitting the gas myself. But, I refrained. Barely).

 

 

In case you missed it, he’s awesome:

So, we leave. Now to preface, he plays music and creates music, that’s his job/life. I get that. But am I the only one that thinks it is a WEE BIT NARCISSISTIC that the only CDs he had in his car were of him playing, or his band, or his music or his new release? The entire date all I heard was about how awesome he was, and how this celebrity thinks so. How this guy wants his musical help, and how he created this song in 5 minutes b/c he is awesome.

 

Call me crazy, but I’d rather find out myself how awesome you are, rather than have it beat in to me. Maybe I’m too picky. That must be it.

 

Is it me? Am I being the asshole here, or is this guy in love with himself? (I know, I know, you’re dying to be like, but you are usually the asshole here! Yeah, yeah, but this time, no shit, I think it’s him)

 

He sure smiled extra hard when I told him I liked the song. Whooohooo allllll smiles then. Great. In his slight defense, the music and piano skills he has are beautiful. But it was a little you know, much. Maybe I’m wrong. And maybe it was a first date, and he wanted to show off (but wouldn’t you have lots of other CDs from other artists in the car too even if you selected to share only yours with me tonight?)

 

He also doesn’t listen to the radio, but he did scan the hell out of it. I thought when he said he “didn’t listen to the radio” he meant he only listened to CDs. I didn’t realize that meant he liked to continually hit the scan/seek button and bitch about every song that came on and a millisecond later, change it again, and again. And again. And again. And again. And again. Every song was “omg too old,” “ugh way overplayed,” or “annoyingly bad,” etc.–maybe the real issue was that it wasn’t HIS song??? hmmmm…think I may have found the problem. Wash, Rinse, Repeat. Sigh.

 

 

Payback’s a bitch:

So we hit the bar for my un-victory shots. There are a few cute guys there, two of which are with women, but I see them checking out my cleavage. One gives me a naughty smile, and one by the bathroom was making eyes, but alas, I am on a date, and I’m not gonna do something like that. We played a game on his phone, (hey buddy, did it make you feel big and successful to beat me at a game I don’t know how to play after liquoring me up?) and I got my 2 shots of hell.

 

The bartender, thinking he was being helpful, suggested a Bourbon. The “roughest” one he had. Thanks. Thanks a fucking lot buddy.

 

 

Seeing me take them the bartender felt so bad that he took one himself with me (during my second shot). He was cute, and it was nice of him. But I’m still harboring some hate for the burning-OMG-burning-OMG-nauseating-OMG-i’m-gonna-puke-OMG-burning-OMG-I’m-ok-feeling that I went through twice. Think I’m kidding? Go take two of those. I’m so f-ing not. And I like whiskey shooters. This, my friend, was a new kind of liquid hell.

 

My date on the other hand decided to order as he put it “the girliest nicest shot they have just to rub it in”–a bubblegum flavored shot. Nice. Reallllllll, nice. Ass. Although, it does explain a lot about the rest of the date….

 

 

Killmenow:

Newsflash: I don’t give a shit that you know celebrities. I don’t. I also don’t care that you keep the things they’ve said about you, and the quotes about how awesome you are on your (non-private–funny his pics and his info about how great he was is visible but nothing else, pattern, ahh yes) facebook profile. I hate when he name drops, sure he has met a few celebrities, but I gotta tell you, I barely know who they are by name, and I couldn’t care less.

 

Literally. Couldn’t. Care. Less.

 

Congrats. You want a cookie? I guess it is important to him, so I get it, but I hope he isn’t like that and is just doing it to impress me (in which case, please stop). However, judging by the rest of the evening-o-fun, I’m going to say that is ENTIRELY who he is. gag.

 

So Meatloaf and Tom Petty’s gf (which, uh, ok?) thinks you’re amazing. Are they paying your bills? Are they keeping your bed warm at night? Are you dating them? No? Then who gives a flyingfuck??!!

 

Not me, sweet cheeks, not me.

 
I’m the whore? Wait, which of us broke the law and got a hand job at a massage parlor? Oh, that’s right, it was you:

Anyway, we had some semi-fun, there was flirtation, and I thought we had a good enough time. And, well, sure the date was fun mixed with a coma and some narcissism, but I was willing to overlook it and give him another date. Especially since our emails and stuff were so fun previously. I tend to give people chances and overlook things (apparently) that I should not.

 

I texted him when I got home (soooo not what I should have done, but I was kinda a little tipsy from the liquor which was his fault! LOL), and he texted back. Fast forward to the next day, and silence. Is he doing the 3 day rule? Does he hate me too? lol. I gchatted him with a compliment to his music (since that is apparently what he responds too) but alas, silence. Foiled by the Great Narcissistic Wall of Happy Endings!!!!! He did email me then and said he “respects me greatly” which I’m prettttty sure translates to “I don’t want to bang you.” Fair enough. Considering I’d have to ball gag and duct tape his mouth shut to even consider doing anything with him. In fact, the only thing I could even barely contemplate doing with him would be (me) receiving oral sex (from him)–that way he would have to shut the hell up. 😉

 

After that he keeps emailing, and I’m not sure what to make of it. I don’t think he is interested (which I find hilarious–this guy–isn’t interested–in me–haahaaaa, man, that is some shit), and I’m (obviously) ok with that, but why keep emailing me? Maybe we can be “friends” hahaaaa. killme.

 

Oh, perfect ending lol. So, at the end of the date, he drives around so I can hear the last of his CD till the end. Then he drops me off, and gives me my very own copy of his CD. Now, that was a nice thing to do, but also kind of screams narcissist no? I mean, he had a box of them in the car–like is this what you do on dates? Or do you just drive around throwing them out the window? (well, he sure drives slow enough to do it….)

 

Then he walks me to the garage (like a foot from the car), and gives me a hug and a peck on the cheek. Like I give my aunt. I joke “that’s it?” and he looks at me like I’m the newest purveyor of WHORES R’ US (and ps wouldn’t that be an awesome store? lol). I was a bit taken back. I meant another hug (b/c he surprised me, and I didn’t give him a return cheek peck). He was like “well, it’s only a first date!”–as if I meant “why-aren’t-you-bending-me-over-this-hood-right-now-and-banging-me-with-your-(conceited)-prick??”

 

Um, no.

 

But honestly, we’ve been talking for like over a month, a lot, everyday, and we had talked about our first kiss and how we were looking forward to it. Soooo, I didn’t think it was that crazy to get a lip peck or a kiss kiss. Whatever. His loss yo, I’m an amazing kisser. So ha.

 

 

No ink?:

All in all, I think I was most surprised that he didn’t offer to autograph his CD for me. Maybe only 3/4 narcissist? yay!

 

 

 

Wait, you closed me? Nice, real nice.

 

So, to add insult to injury, during the date with Senor-I-Heart-Myself-Mucho, my email blinked and I saw I had a message from this guy on eharmony who contacted me recently. He works in phone communications, or something vague like that, and he wasn’t very attractive, (kinda had a dropped on his face look going for him), but whatever, I’ll give the guy a chance. I mean, sometimes attraction isn’t always immediate, and I can definitely find other things super attractive too.

 

So I notice he sent me a message, so of course, I wasn’t going to check it and be rude during the date. (especially not with this Lord of the Dance motherfucker driving me into a coma). After I get home and undressed, I take a look. And see that he received the answers I wrote to my last questions (which I thought were good, cute, fun, decent, dateable responses), but I guess not because, his message stated:

 

“You seem like a strong and wonderful woman, but I fear not the one for me.” and then he closed the match.

 

Now, what the FUCK does that even mean???? Does it mean he likes strong and wonderful women (who doesn’t???) but he wants a different strong and wonderful woman, or instead that he doesn’t want those two qualities in a woman? Or he just doesn’t like me for some stupid reason that makes no sense because he was hoping I would say blue and I said green to his personally made up questions. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I was supposed to fill them in with “what you want to hear”—I thought we were supposed to be honest. My bad.

 

I ‘m like, wait, I’m giving you a chance, and you close me for what?? Hellllllllooooooooo. I’m a fucking catch!! A CATCH!!! Ok, well, mostly. lol. I mean, except for this blog thing. and my assholeness (apparently as evidenced by this blog), and sarcasm, and…dammit…shit. lol.

 

Yeah, well I closed him right back. So there! Take that! (sniff).

 

I think what burned my bottom the most though, was that I couldn’t even write back and say WTF buddy, WTF. Damm closed matches. That is soooo not fair. Where’s the equality eharmony??? where!!!?? lol.

 

 

Love Hurts:

It appears, everything is a game. I hate games. Why can’t people say what they mean and mean what they say. And why does every guy have a virgin/whore complex?

 

Seriously. Grow the fuck up guys.

 

Like, say by tomorrow? That would really work for me thanks.

 

Every single guy on there says he is looking for “honesty” from his potential match. Note to self, just type “Honesty” in every response.

 

Honesty, eh? About that, yeah, let’s get honest.

 

Now if we were REALLY being honest, as they say they want– you would think that a few men, would mention sex, or a healthy sex life, or an intimate healthy relationship. Nope, only ONE guy out of HUNDREDS I’ve seen mentioned it.

 

Who’s bullshitting now?

 

Seriously, if you say sex isn’t important, then don’t get mad when you get women who don’t want an active sex life as a part of your healthy relationship. I’m not saying you should be vulgar or talk about sex a lot on your profile, but a healthy sex life with your husband/wife/partner is an important part of a healthy successful marriage.

 

It. just. is.

 

Otherwise you become roommates, penpals, weird supervised prison visits (sans the conjugal part). Yes, you’re supposed to be friends and super close, but you’re also supposed to have a healthy intimate loving relationship that keeps you close, keeps the marriage alive. Trust me, I did the penpal thing. It blew. And not in the good way.

 

And to ignore that, and act like I’m the whore for saying I want a healthy intimate life with my partner—is ridiculously hypocritical and I’m calling ALLLLLL your asses out for it. That’s right. Right now. Quit your bellyaching. You asked for it. You got it. So when you find yourself 3 years into the marriage, not getting any, and you’re trolling adult friend finder (at 1am while furtively looking over your shoulder to make sure the wife isn’t awake and doesn’t see what you’re doing) for some no-strings-b/c-my-wife-doesn’t-like-to-bang/blow-me-fun, remember this moment.

 

And if you forget, don’t worry, I’ll be there to say I told you so.

 

Bastards.

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