Kate Hates Dates

Drop the Baby Weight

2015-10-29T18:51:00.000-04:00

Put most women near a baby and things are bound to happen. They “oooh” and “aaah”, they start talking about their biological clock, they want to hold the baby and take in all those powdery baby smells. Women are just hard wired to be like that. Right? Well that’s not me. Most people who have been around me long enough know that they’re just not my thing. (God help my children, I don’t know how they survived) They’re sticky and needy, plus I have this curse that EVERYWHERE I go there is always a crying baby (even when I went and applied to college, seriously, everywhere) and if you’re around me long enough you’ll live to hear me tell you that I don’t like babies until they’re at least 30.

I temporarily lost my mind and decided to go back to POF (Plenty of Fish) which if you don’t know is a free dating website since I am currently, sadly, unemployed. I always get a few looks, or winks or flirts, or whatever they’re called on that site. I eventually got one from Timmy. He looked familiar, and after a few messages back and forth we determined we had talked once or twice on a different site and it just didn’t go anywhere for whatever reason. We chat a little here and there and my unemployment predicament comes up. He mentions that he works for a large company in the area, asks me what kind of work I do and tells me that if he can get me hired he gets a nice little bonus so he’ll keep his eyes open.

Eventually a job that fits my skill set opens up and I apply. We again chat back and forth randomly, about the job, a little about our lives but not much else. It just doesn’t really take off. He follows up with me every once in a while to see if there is any progression with the job. I let him know that I did the initial online interview. A few weeks later I follow up with him by letting him know that I was turned down for the position and make sure to tell him that I appreciated the effort. At that point that was sort of the end of us chatting.

A few weeks later, out of the blue I get a call to come in for a second interview for the job. Awesome! So to be polite I text him to let him know. Well for some reason this sets a fire under his ass. I don’t know if he was just at a different point in his life, if he was suddenly lonely or the prospect of some cash coming his way from the bonus did it, but at this point he becomes full on interested in me. We start chatting pretty frequently, he asks when we can meet, there’s even a phone call. Finally!

During one of our texting sessions he asks if I would mind sending him a photo of myself to add to his phone. I’m happy to do so. I’m not one of these crazy selfie obsessed people but I do have a couple of random pics on my phone that I think are fairly decent. I pick one and send it on over. I of course ask him then to do the same. He says that he’s going to send me a pic of himself with one of his fetishes. Oh... great... I’m a pretty laid back gal. Not much bothers me. I assure him that like 90% of the shit people are into doesn’t bother me. I mean I may not necessarily be willing to participate but I’m willing to at least keep an open mind. He sends me the pic. Of him. In a diaper. Aaaaahhhhhhh FUCK. This gets my mind rolling and I want to know if he would mind if I ask a few questions. My first question is does he use the diaper for its intended purpose because if so I’m OUT! (Thankfully, he doesn’t) My next question is how did he get into that of all things? He tells me an ex couldn’t have kids so she pretended he was her baby and he wound up loving it. A few more details were exchanged, none particularly tragic, however when you don’t like babies when they’re small and cute... a bigger version, for me at least, is highly unsettling. He then wants to know when he can take me out. I figured if I put it off way out into the future maybe this baby thing will grow on me, or perhaps, disturb me less. No dice, he wants to go out the end of that week. I hesitantly agree.

The baby thing really eats at me though. I just don’t see myself ever, ever, ever getting into it and it was something that he mentioned was a pretty big part of his life. The day before the date I text him. I very politely explain to him that I am flattered that he was interested in me but I honestly didn’t see it going anywhere. I told him that I just didn’t want him to waste his time (or mine) or his money on a date when there wasn’t really a decent chance of this thing ever even getting off the ground. He responds “Have a nice life blimp” What? WTF? Are you fucking serious? First of all, YOU contacted my FAT ASS on the dating website where I have SEVERAL pictures of myself on there so men who view my profile know what they are getting themselves into. Second, I was actually honest and polite with you. Most other bitches would have just dicked you around and third do you REALLY want to piss off the chick you sent a picture of yourself IN A FUCKING DIAPER! We were friends on Facebook, I know where he works and as an additional little tidbit, I know where he goes to church.

At this point I still haven’t heard back about the job so I’ve decided to not put him on blast. Yet. However, revenge is a dish best served cold. I, under normal circumstances, would have never revealed his little secret to anyone had he just been nice. Although now, due to his INFANTILE behavior I guess it just DEPENDS on if I land this job whether I “accidentally” let that little photo somehow end up in some interesting places. Pissing off a woman is ALWAYS a bad idea…

Actual Miles by Lori Dorcik

2014-09-18T11:39:00.000-04:00

I met Chris online. He contacted me on one of the free sites. So we text for a couple of days, then made plans to meet at a steakhouse after he got off work. I got there a few minutes early and received a text that says “Don’t judge” OH NO, what does that mean? A few minutes later dude rolls in driving a 1990 Honda Accord wagon with a door that won’t close all the way because it’s been wrecked! Ok I’m not judging…

He gets out with a beautiful bouquet of flowers but makes me carry it into the restaurant because he knows everyone will ask about them. So we walk in and he tells the hostess there are 17 of us… she about panicked, then she promptly sat us all the way in the back of the restaurant. So obviously he thinks he is a real funny guy and needs to be the center of attention. Great. He then sat down and proceeded to run his mouth for an hour and a half straight! First he tells me about his 4 kids from 3 different wives, his job, which he hates…, car salesman (obviously not very good at it!) and that he is a recovering alcoholic, hasn’t drank in 4 years but was drunk for 10 years straight and now there about 11 people on the planet that want him dead. REALLY? This is a first date! (Although I should thank him for letting me know upfront) This dude just didn’t know when to SHUT UP!

When he finally takes a breath, we decide to order appetizers. He doesn’t eat seafood and I can’t eat wheat so that left cheese fries or the artichoke dip, which I recommended, to which he replied “cheese fries it is!” This can’t get much worse… Or so I think.

The cheese fries come and while he is stuffing his face I take the opportunity to say “Do I look like my profile pics?” His reply to this was “Well you have a few miles on ya”. WHAT?!?! He then says “how old were they?” I told him they had all been taken in the last year and he replies “well it must not have been a good angle” Are you fucking kidding me? No one thinks I’m my age! Did this guy who only has one pic of himself, behind a counter, which I very quickly found out why, really just said that? I was speechless! He tried back pedalling out of the miles comment but it was no use.

I excused myself to use the rest room because through all of his rambling I had drank 6 glasses of water but more importantly I needed to text for help, immediately! As planned when I got back to the table, my best friend calls and says there is a road block and she needs a ride. I replied “well can you wait an hour, we haven’t ordered dinner yet” So my plan was, since I had endured this hellish experience, I was at least getting a meal out of it! Knowing I am 30 minutes away from her this gives me 30 minutes to order, eat and get the heck out of there! So she says yes, and he hears the whole thing, thankfully he doesn’t catch on it’s because of him.

I pick the quickest thing on the menu and while we wait, he starts to tell me how awesome his car is, that it is his project and what a great motor it has, and something about the wheels, and blah blah blah. It is the 13th one he has had in 2 years and then listed them all off for me. I realize HE doesn’t drink but I would turn into an alcoholic if I continued with this. All I could think was OMG Shut up!

The food comes, sadly mine was horrible and he only ate half of his because it inhibited his talking. He then decides we are getting cheesecake for dessert and there is a choice of chocolate or raspberry sauce, he and the waitress go back and forth, never asking me, because obviously as demonstrated earlier my opinion doesn’t count. I shoot her the “if this doesn’t end RIGHT NOW I’m taking the whole place out” stare and she promptly asks me to join in on the debate and my response was “RASPBERRY”. And by my tone they took me seriously because raspberry it was. So he goes to pay the tab and has to make a production of tipping the waitresses (because we were there so long we had 2). I start to walk out, and he walks me part of the way to my car and says “can I have a hug” Ok I give him the one handed pat on the back, hope to NEVER see you again hug, and the cherry on top is when he said “I don’t kiss on the first date.” Really?!?!

So on my way home, I get a text saying “I had a great time; I really enjoyed your company. I would love to see you again, have fun playing taxi” my reply was “thanks again for dinner, have a good night” I thought that would be enough hint but oh no, not for mister genius… He texts me again in the morning trying to explain the “miles” comment yet again, that by my pics he thought I would be more of a party girl, but that I am classy and sophisticated~ a real lady. I guess he thought I was a real moron! I text him back and told him I would lie, he shouldn’t use that line and honestly I couldn’t see us being anything more than friends. He thanked me for my honesty and tried to contact me once or twice more but I didn’t respond, and this time I think he got the hint!

Eat, Drink & Be Angry - Part 3

2014-03-06T18:41:00.001-05:00

With my mouth still gaping wide in anticipation of chomping down on a tender morsel of food I stop dead in my tracks. I slowly put the lettuce wrap back down on the plate and just sit there. Boiling. Knowing that if I even think about opening my mouth again that a stream of obscenities are going to flow loudly enough to cause a scene in the restaurant and have everyone gawking at the two of us. I continue to sit there and stew until the waitress comes over and asks if everything is OK with the food. I tell her that I need a to-go box.

Bryce immediately senses the error of his ways but it’s too late. He apologizes, tells me not to worry about it and eat. I say nothing. He continues to plead. I continue to say nothing. He then realizes that being nice is not working in his favor so he decides that another approach would be best. He then says “I can’t believe I’m going to pay for that meal and you’re not even going to eat it” becomes irritated and stops talking to me as well. For a normal person this would be the time to call the waitress over, get another to-go box for his meal and wrap up this “special” evening. Not Bryce, noooooo. We continue to sit there in complete silence while he finishes his salad, fried apples, French fries and an ENTIRE SLAB OF RIBS. Guess he's not on the same "healthy eating" plan as he expects me to be on.

Finally he's finished eating and the ordeal is over, he pays the bill and we drive back to his house. Still not a word has been uttered between us. When we pull into the drive way he turns off the car and heads for his house, I calmly ask him for my keys. He actually looks over at me and says “You’re not going to stay?”

This is a joke right? I’m being punk’d. Where’s the cameras? I wait for a few seconds, look around, there sadly is no sign of Ashton Kutcher so I say to him “no, I’m not staying” I take my keys and drive away.

As far as I’m concerned, we’re done. I don’t call him. I don’t have any intention of ever speaking to him again. A few weeks roll by and I’m glad that he hasn’t called me either. Until, he does. I see the dreaded name on my phone and for some reason I debate whether or not to answer it. I don’t. He leaves me a voicemail. Not apologizing, from the lack of slurring it’s clearly not a drunk dial, just a simple message asking me to call him back. At this point I just assume that I must have left something at his house and he’s just wanting to make sure I get it back so I call. He picks up the phone and says to me “I can’t believe you’re still mad at me.” What? Clearly his memory isn’t as sharp as mine. He then asks me if I want to come over. I politely decline, to which he genuinely seems shocked by and asks "why not?". I’m sorry, did you actually think that after a date of that caliber of HORRIBLENESS that I would simply overlook not only that date but every single jackass thing that you had done leading up to that date? I tell him I’m done. I’m not interested in a relationship with him. I guess he’s insulted or maybe embarrassed by this because he hangs up on me and I am just happy that I no longer have to see his face.

Eat, Drink and Be Angry - Part 2

2013-09-12T22:23:00.001-04:00

I snapped my neck and glared at him. He had to be kidding right? I mean I would have HAPPILY chowed down at the barbecue place with anyone else but I had been trying to compromise with his stupid standards! As I feel my blood starting to boil I tell him that I will be happy with anyplace he chooses. He decides to pick another restaurant on the complete other side of town. Great.

As we are driving I try to make pleasant conversation when he interrupts me to announce that he forgot his reading glasses, he then also announces he has to take a piss. Somehow both of these become my fault. I mention to him we are going to pass right by his neighborhood so why doesn’t he just pop into the house, use the restroom and grab his glasses. Oh noooo, that would be far too convenient, instead he asks me to look around the car for an empty cup for him to pee in. Are you fucking serious? Shockingly, I don’t happen to have a spare piss cup in my car for him to urinate in so we continue to drive ALL the way to the restaurant with him bitching and “adjusting” himself due to the apparent pressure on his bladder.

We get to the restaurant where he heads to the restroom and I make a beeline for the bar to grab something strong enough to get me through the rest of the evening while we wait for a table to open up. During the I am waiting for my drink, Bryce walks up and mentions to me that there is a high top available in the bar area with no wait. I begrudgingly agree. I say this because I am short, and wide. High chairs with narrow seats and I don’t mix but I agree before the level of agitation continues to rise, or so I think.

The waitress comes over, hands us our menus and gives us time to decide what to order. Bryce immediately starts to cuss under his breath and slams the menu down. For some reason, I ask what the matter is. “I can’t see a fucking thing in this dark ass restaurant with these tiny fucking letters on this menu, I’m just gonna have to order a fucking hamburger and that’s not what I really want…., blah, blah, blah” So I thought of a brilliant idea! When the waitress came over and asked us if we decided what we wanted to order, I said to her “do you happen to have a pair of reading glasses in lost and found, my date forgot his” This went over like a fucking lead balloon. Bryce was apparently quite insulted by this. I then explain to the waitress that he can't see shit on the menu and I wait patiently for the next 20 minutes while she basically describes every damn item on the menu to him.

He then orders an appetizer. At this point I don’t even remember what it was but what I do remember is that it was fried or fattening or both, so I take a nibble or two because I know if I eat more than a few morsels he’ll complain about me not eating healthy and if I don’t eat any at all he’ll bitch about that too. I start to think to myself, why am I doing this again?

Thankfully another drink arrives with dinner and I’m actually excited about my lettuce wraps with a spicy sriracha sauce. I pick one up to savor the deliciousness when Bryce snaps at me “What is that? That’s too many calories for you”

First of all, fuck you. Second of all I don’t care what it is, if I order something and the first word is “lettuce” there ain’t too many fucking calories in it, and last but not least, fuck you.

Shit just got real….

Check me out next week for the conclusion of Eat, Drink and Be Angry!

Eat, Drink and be Angry - Part 1

2013-08-29T21:53:00.000-04:00

I’m sorta a what you see is what you get girl. I’m a BBW (Big Beautiful Woman) and have been for quite some time. Yes, I’m becoming more health conscience and making changes to my life but by no means am I going to wake up tomorrow and be thin unless I happen to run into a genie with a magic lamp. Someone should have mentioned this to “Bryce”.

Bryce and I had been dating off and on for awhile. Mostly when I was lonely, bored and tired of spending weekends alone. He was tolerable, got along with my friends and is employed. More than I can say for some of the others I’ve dated. We had been spending more and more time together and things were getting to the point of being serious. This concerned me because I knew if I stayed with him I was settling but I knew I could (and have) done worse for myself. I was stuck in a rut and not really sure what to do about it. Lucky for me that was about to change.

Bryce and I had decided to go to the beach for the weekend but, as a Florida resident you always know to check the weather before you go. It just so happened there was a tropical storm and I was not about to spend an entire weekend at the beach locked inside a house with Bryce so I cancelled and told him we would just get together on Friday and spend a nice quiet evening together. Which for me is actually a lot of work.

You see Bryce doesn’t like my hair curly or in a pony tail, so I need to flat iron it (even though it’s raining) and he doesn’t like when I don’t shower IMMEDIATELY before coming over even though I took a shower that morning, and he doesn’t like it when I don’t have on sexy panties, and…. the list goes on. Now I’m not normally the kind of gal that gives into a man’s every whim but for Bryce it’s less aggravating for me to just go with the flow than to hear him bitch. And so I conform…

I arrive at his house because he refuses to stay the night at my house and again it’s just easier for me to have an escape vehicle should the need arise, and trust me, it does. I get under the umbrella and run to his front door, careful not to let the rain ruin my perfectly straightened hair. I get to sit there while he finishes his cigarette and discuss where we are going for dinner. He suggests a local barbeque place which I love but I’d rather not go to knowing that whatever I order from there will elicit some smart fat remark. So I suggest we go over to a fairly close shopping area with tons of restaurants to choose from and off we go.

As we get closer I immediately know there’s going to be a problem. This place is popular under normal circumstances, throw in the rain and Friday night factors and this place is packed! I personally don’t have a problem with this. I’m the kind of person that will sit around, chat, grab a drink from the bar and patiently wait for a table. Bryce on the other hand does NOT like crowds OR waiting. So we circle. Drive thru the parking lot a few times; see if any of the restaurants have convenient parking and no lines waiting. Nothing. We then cross the street and repeat with the restaurants on that side, nothing. We then go back to where we first started and circle again. Still nothing. At this point Bryce looks at me and snaps “Why do can't you just compromise!”

This is not going to end well…..

Sweet Revenge

2013-01-17T21:45:00.000-05:00

I hate my birthday. I have for quite awhile now. I guess when you get old enough that people stop making you birthday cakes, planning parties for you and singing “Happy Birthday” it’s bound to happen, and well, my birthday 2012 certainly didn’t change my mind. In fact, it helped add to my theory that my birthday is cursed. Let me explain through what I can remember and what has been told to me about that day…

I decided that the best way to change the course of the birthday curse was to take a “me” day. Got a massage, hair cut, colored and straightened so I would look and feel like a million bucks. Made arrangements with my friend to go on a double date that evening to a movie that I was dying to see and out to a local hotspot afterwards for some drinks and dancing. What could possibly go wrong?

Well for starters after spending a good amount of time getting gussied up, it decides to drizzle. Rain and Florida humidity are Kryptonite to straight hair and now I’m just praying that by the end of the night I don’t look like the lost sixth member of the Jackson 5. Thankfully I duck into the movie with minimal rain contact. Got my popcorn, soda and settle in….. don’t ya know it the movie SUCKS! Two hours wasted but at least there’s the club to look forward to.

My date pays the cover, we go inside…. There’s like seven people there. OK, so it’s not the most happening spot but at least I’ll be able to have a drink. Do you have Crown? No. Do you have Bacardi Dark? No. Ok, then how about just a Bud Light? Nope. Come ON! What kind of bar doesn’t even have Bud Light? We decide to bail. We head to a local spot where they have a band and Bud Light available if I so choose. As I walk in I see this poster advertising Sweet Revenge. It’s pink and I think the name is just too perfect to turn down. I order a couple of shots for my friend and I, and another and then another. 3 shots on my birthday is not a bad way to go, besides, I’m a big girl, I can hold my liquor, I’m certainly not new to the drinking scene.

Well it doesn’t take very long before the room starts spinning. At this point apparently I’ve pissed off my date and he’s left and I decide to go after him. My very sweet DD loads me into the car where apparently I make a phone call professing my undying love for my date and decide to make things right. I somehow get loaded into my date’s truck, get to his house where he gentlemanly opens the door for me to get out only to watch hit the pavement.

That’s enough. The Sweet Revenge lives true to its word and I begin to puke, everywhere, only to be yelled at by my date that I’m getting it all over his driveway and that I need to “move it to the grass.” The last thing I remember is crawling on my hands and knees to a bush as to not soil his precious driveway. (Believe it or not this won’t be the last you hear about this guy.)

The next morning, as I wake up feeling like my head is being beaten in by a two by four I desperately search for my purse and phone. My purse is luckily on the night stand next to me but my phone, that’s another thing. After searching for quite some time and even heading back to my friend’s house I discover that my phone is gone. SHIT! My whole life is in that phone! I decide to take just one last look. Sure enough, I find the phone. Under the bush, covered in puke… Thank GOD for my Otter Box. I peel my protective cover off and head home glad another birthday is over and done with, or so I think.

Except…. a few weeks later I get a pretty envelope in the mail. Red. Apparently somewhere in my adventures for the day I ran a red light and here is the picture and $178 ticket to prove it. I promise you for my 2013 birthday, I’m not even leaving the fucking house….

The SOOO Not OK Corral

2012-07-12T20:10:00.000-04:00

There are some unwritten rules for first dates that are usually a good idea to follow. The man should generally at least offer to pay, the woman shouldn’t give it up the goods and alcohol, in my opinion, should almost always be involved.

I get an email from the sole website that I am still on telling me I’ve got mail. It’s Sunday and for the moment I don’t have a whole lot going on so I check it out. I get a message from “Matt”. He’s local and I decide to at least respond to his email and see what happens, even though his picture on the site is not particularly flattering, but I’m trying not to be shallow. After all I don’t want a man to not give me a shot just because I’m not thin.

We email back and forth a few times. He uses proper spelling and grammar which is always a pleasure and he actually asks for my phone number and if he can text me which is so rare so I decide to go for it. We get to texting, asking each other the typical “get to know you questions” what he does for a living, hobbies, pets, kids, etc….. and then his living situation comes up. He lives with his dad. I know the economy is bad, I know times are tough and people do what they have to do, and I get it. Still it’s somewhat disappointing that at 43 he still lives with mom and dad but it’s not entirely a deal breaker.

A few texts later he starts to ask about my kids, which for me is always scary. As a single parent I know I’m a package deal and yes, I understand the need for a man to know what he’s getting himself into but worry about that shit when you know you’re going to stick around for Pete’s sake. I give him very basic, non-descript information. Then he asks for their picture. WTF? You haven’t even asked for my picture yet. The creeper flag is now a flyin! I try not to jump to any conclusions but now for sure I am weirded out. I guess this gets him thinking and now he asks for my picture. No prob, I’ve got my facebook pic on my phone for just such an occasion. I then of course have to ask for his and WHOA. Really fucking hideous. I mean if I thought his picture on the website was mediocre this one is scary beyond words! I decide to end the conversation for the evening and pray I don’t have nightmares.

The next day he sends me a text at lunch telling me he’s thinking about me and hopes I have a great day and is looking forward to talking to me later. I, of course, think that’s very sweet and my black heart lightens just a little.

He texts me that evening and asks me if I would go to dinner with him. I figure one date won’t kill me. I'll at least give him the benefit of the doubt. I mean after all it is free food and drinks. Then he asks if I like Golden Corral. For those of you not familiar with this establishment, it’s a buffet style restaurant. As a large woman and someone at least mildly concerned with the sanitary conditions of my food I personally try to avoid them. I just have these visions of some snot nosed kid running around touching everything, especially the chocolate fountain. Gross. Besides, if I agree to Golden Corral on a first date where does it go when he gets comfortable? Bowling alley food? Midnight fast food run? Perhaps a steaming cup of Ramen Noodles?

And so that my friends, is the end of this little adventure, he just doesn’t know it yet. I wrestle with myself the next day on whether or not I should try to break it to him gently or take the “I don’t owe him a damn thing attitude”. I, always one to be the bigger person, at least to their face, tell him that I’m really overwhelmed with school, and work and kids, and I just decided that this really isn’t the right time for me to be dating. Which I never really know if that’s the right thing to do. I mean, maybe he’s a fragile soul and needs a woman to lie to him as to not hurt his feelings but then again maybe he’s the type that would benefit from someone actually stopping and telling him the truth. Either way ain’t my problem. Let the next bitch worry about that shit. I’m out!

A Few Colonel's Short of a Bag of Popcorn

2012-04-19T22:13:00.000-04:00

We all know “that guy”. Sure it might be a different “that guy” for all of us. For one of you it might be someone who’s phone call you dread, for another you duck and run from him at a party, maybe he’s the creepy guy who leers at you every time you see him or the guy that when he talks he stands a little too close for comfort. You know… “that guy”. For me it’s a friend of a friend, an acquaintance that’s grown into a strange friendship. One I’ve learned to love and even tolerate.

“Colonel Dan” is an interesting character to say the least, but for this story what you need to know is that he’s not too savvy when it comes to the world of computers. He’s got a few items he wants to sell on Craig’s List and doesn’t have a clue how to do that. That’s where I come in. I volunteer my services knowing it will take mere minutes and don’t give it a second thought. Colonel Dan tells me that when the items sell, he will take me to dinner for my troubles. I just nod and uh-huh him, never intending to hold him to this. After all what I’m doing is not really all that hard.

Well to my chagrin he holds me to it. Pushy about it even. After several times of me cancelling and rescheduling I finally cave and agree to meet for dinner. Friday night, 6:30. At 6:45 I get a phone call from him asking for the directions. I tell him he’s right around the corner and give him what he need to get the rest of the way there. At 7 he shows up at the restaurant cussing, telling me he missed the entrance, TWICE and how the parking lot is too small for his truck. This has certainly started well. He then he asks me why I’m not at the bar. I tell him I’m waiting for him. Colonel Dan then tells me he wouldn’t have waited for me and heads in that direction. As soon as he gets there he asks me where the restroom is and tells me to order him a beer and a shot.

We eventually get to our table and the waitress comes over to take our order. He gets stuck on salad. He wants “you know, that dressing, not French” After a long list of flavors apparently he wanted Ranch. It is at this point I realize that he’s thrown back a few prior to his arrival and I know the evening is only going to get more interesting.

I continue with dinner by trying to make conversation and I ask him if he’s doing anything exciting this weekend. “Yeah, I’m going to Georgia” Awesome I say, for what? “Piece of ass” I should have known better. I guess this sparks the charm and wit center in his brain because he then proceeds to tell me that if I lose 100 pounds” things might start hap-nin” and if I lose 200 he’ll marry me. Wow, how can I resist? I let him know that the last person who said that to me was my EX- boyfriend and I told him to go fuck himself. He just laughs it off and continues talking and attempting to chew with his mouth open, all the while food is falling onto his shirt. Awesome.

After the minutes seem to drag on, the dinner finally ends. He decides to use the restroom before he leaves where he passes by the waitress squatting down at another table taking their order. At this point he feels it appropriate to pat her on the head. She looks horrified. Thankfully he moves on quickly.

When we get to the door to leave I thank him for a “lovely evening” and try to make a dash for it. He is conveniently parked next to me, so we leave together. I have never been so glad to see my piece of crap car. I attempt to half hug him when he grabs me for a big bear hug where I find myself up close and personal with the morsels that fell from his mouth onto his shirt at dinner. I manage to un-wedge myself from his grip and go on my merry way. Finally.

I wouldn’t say it’s the most horrible dinner I’ve ever been to but it’s certainly not one I ever plan on repeating. I think in the future I’ll make sure that our mutual friends are around to serve as a buffer for me and the useless nut we affectionately call Colonel Dan.

Friends and Low Places

2012-02-16T19:10:00.000-05:00

Every once in a while, with the TV on in the background I hear the iconic theme song to “Cheers” and it brings a smile to my face. Not because it reminds me about the show necessarily but it makes me think of the bond that I have with my friends. There is just something comforting about a group of close friends that know everything about you and still like you anyway.

That being said, I’m fortunate enough to have a small group of friends that love me just for being me. I consider their homes my home away from home and know that I’m welcome at all times. So when one of my friends tells me that there is going to be a party at their house. I know not only am I going to go but I am going to have a damn good time.

This particular party was New Year’s Eve. I don’t generally consider myself to be a particularly superstitious person but I do feel like that what you are doing on New Year’s Eve/Day can sort of set the tone for the rest of the year so I make sure I’m always surrounded by friends and/or family on those days. And of course since it’s one of the days the whole world celebrates the surrounding cast of characters did not fail to make an appearance.

One of them being my ex boyfriend “Bryce”. No biggie, we’re on speaking terms. As a matter of fact he’s been crying to a mutual friend of ours about how he really wants to get back together, and he knows that the breakup was all his fault and he’s so lonely without me, blah, blah, blah…

He sits down next to me and strikes up a conversation. I’m pleasant, after all I’m drinking. (Hey! It’s New Years Eve!) He then starts in on me that I never call him. To which I remind him he’s told me that he doesn’t like to talk on the phone so why would I call him, and besides you don’t call me either. This leads into him telling me that’s probably because he’s not really ready for a relationship.

This sends me into a TIZZY! Not because I’m irritated that he doesn’t want to get back together. Really I don’t care either way. What pisses me off is that this wishy washy son of a bitch is going to ear fuck my friend about the history of our relationship and where it went wrong and then pulls THIS crap. Besides your 49 fucking years old! If you’re not ready for a relationship now what the HELL are you waiting for?

I immediately head into the house and have a shot. And then another. And maybe even one more and quickly forget about the whole situation. At some point Bryce leaves and his stupidity is brought up in a conversation by someone who is still at the party. This causes my aggravation to once again rear its ugly head and I declare to everyone that I’m going to go punch him in the balls.

That’s when the night goes black……

I wake up the next morning with a roaring hangover, horrible cottonmouth and praying for death to find me quickly. I roll over in bed and immediately hit my head on something. What the fuck? As I open my eyes to see what I just hit my pounding head on I see Bryce with a stupid grin on his face. I’m guessing by the smile I didn’t hit him in the balls. At least not with my fist.

I quickly put on my shoes and head for the door. He jumps up and follows me and starts saying something about coffee. I tell him that I have to go check on my dog and get the hell out of there.

Later that day my phone rings off the hook, my friends calling to ask me what happened once I left the party. I tell them quite honestly I have no earthy idea. They’ll have to get the rest of THAT story from Bryce himself.

Smoke and Mirrors

2012-02-09T20:26:00.000-05:00

I know I can be rough around the edges. I know I can be a tough person to deal with sometimes. I know that I’ve built up quite a reputation, but I also consider myself a fairly rational person. I guess that part doesn’t come out nearly as often as I think it does. This apparently leads people to tell me things that they think I want to hear. My motto is I don’t do things to people that I don’t want them to do to me so I tend to play it straight forward. I guess that is my blessing and my curse.

Once again I get a “smile” from someone from the BBW site that I’m a member of. I’m excited because I’ve had my eye on “Beau” for a little while but since I’m not a paid member of the site I was never able to contact him directly. I had seriously been considering getting a membership just to be able to talk to this guy and much to my surprise he is now sending ME an email! His pictures are great, his story is right up my alley and he actually seems like a pretty decent guy. Have I finally hit the jackpot?

We arrange to meet at a local restaurant even though he’s from about an hour away and see how that plays out and go from there. I’m impressed already. He’s willing to drive to me, that in my book is a big deal. We meet for a simple dinner and start to get to know each other. He starts off by talking about all of the women he’s dated and what was the matter with all of them. Wait a friggin minute! That’s my line! I’m the funny one with a blog. You’re cramping my style dude! I sit through the endless list of things that have been wrong with his dates worrying that each time he starts another story that the exact thing he didn’t like about that date is going to describe me to a tee. So I sit, and listen. Almost speechless, this really isn’t like me at all.

Suddenly he gets a phone call and excuses himself. At least he’s not rude enough to sit there and talk in front of me like I don’t exist. We finish our meal continue to talk when his phone rings again. It’s his daughter, his grandson isn’t feeling well and she’s taking him to the emergency room and she needs him home right away. Ahhhhh, here it is. The classic blow off. It’s Friday night and I’m going to be home by 8PM. Oh well, at least I got a free meal out of the deal and didn’t have to sit at home for the evening. I thank him for a nice time, tell him I hope his grandson is OK and we part ways.

So I think we’re done. Nope. He texts me non-stop the rest of the evening telling me that he was having a hard time concentrating at dinner because I was so beautiful. That he was undressing me with his eyes the whole night and that he hopes that he can make his sudden departure up to me the next day and take me out again.

HUH? So that wasn’t a blow off? Wait, now I’m confused.

I didn’t really feel any sparks but I thought maybe that was because I was so freaked out that he would be turned off by one thing or another about me since his damn list was so long. So I decided to give it another try and agree to meet him the next evening. He told me that he would call when he knew his work schedule so we could make plans for the night.

Wouldn’t you know, I’m still waiting for that call. Guess it was a blow off after all. So why the big theatrics and the apologies and the texting me all night long? Why not just quit while you’re ahead? Why did he feel the need to blow smoke up my ass when my ass was perfectly fine without it? Guess that’s a question that will never be answered.

Dud-Muffin

2012-02-02T20:19:00.000-05:00

I felt the twitch. The itch. The discomfort. No, it’s NOT an STD. I think I feel the end of my man-cation coming on. It was a lovely summer of not caring. Not subjecting my self to the perils of dating. Not torturing myself with the mental preparation of learning about a new person only to find out he’s a douche bag. But when I wake up in the morning and I realize that the warm body lying next to me in the bed is my dog, I feel the loneliness and I know that I don’t want to stay that way forever.

The problem is the first piece of advice that I get from everyone is to stop looking and it will happen! Honestly it makes me kind of nervous. I’ve been single so long now I don’t know how to not look. It’s like asking a tigress to not chase the gazelle, like asking the black widow spider to ignore the fly in its web, like asking me to not feel & grope in a dark room full of hot rednecks. It’s just un-natural.

All that put aside, I did put my profile back on one dating website. One that is specifically for BBW’s (Big Beautiful Women for those of you who aren’t aware) but promised myself that I wouldn’t pursue anyone just let them come to me. And come they do. From everywhere! I mean I’m not bragging, I’m sure any woman that posts her profile on a website catered to people that like her specific kind of body type, hobby, religion, interests, etc… would have men flocking to her too. I just think it’s crazy when I get “smiles” from Canada, Russia and Greece. I mean, I’m sure you’re lovely but I’m looking for a date not a pen pal.

So I’m excited when I get an email from someone fairly local, we set up a date and meet. He calls me to tell me he’s running late so I tell him I’ll wait in a bar that I know of until he gets there. After all it’s a first date and I’m nervous. Nothing like a shot of courage to cool the nerves.

He finally shows and he decides start the conversation by telling me he’s from a long line of alcoholics and he doesn’t drink. So now I feel like an ass. Way to put my best foot forward! So I try to change the subject. Find something that he does like so I can get him talking and get to know him better. The problem is that every time I ask him a question I hit a roadblock.

Smoke? No. Kids? No. Ever been married? No. Tattoos? No. Drugs? No. Pets? No. Roommates? No. Brothers or Sisters? No. Ever broke a bone? No. Surgeries? No. Jeez! I’m batting a thousand here! Play any instruments? “I played the Tuba in High School” I wasn’t touching that one…. What do you do for work? “I sell insurance” Seriously? OMG! I have just met the most boring man in the world! How did we even get to the point where we set up a date without me falling asleep? Clearly this was not going to work out.

So after a few more attempts on my part to talk about ANYTHING don’t work I decide to call it quits. He at least is a gentleman and asks if he can walk me to my car. I’m all for chivalry so I accept. He gets to my car and moves towards me like he is going to give me a hug. He’s much taller than me so I try to adjust myself to make it the least awkward as possible. Except he takes his arms, throws them over my shoulders and grabs onto my ass and just stands there. Doesn’t say a damn word. Doesn’t attempt to move around, offer an explanation, nada. Just friggin stands there. W-E-I-R-D!!! After what seems like an eternity in my brain trying to figure out what in the HELL is going on I somehow pry myself from out from under him and say goodnight.

I never did hear from him again. Which is good because he was SO boring that I can’t remember his damn name anyway. I might not want to be alone for the rest of my life but I certainly don’t want to hang out with somebody whose idea of a good time is watching paint dry.

New Year, Knew You

2012-01-26T20:17:00.000-05:00

First blog of the year. I’m feeling the pressure. Especially since this blog was supposed to be posted weeks ago but computer issues….. well I don’t want to whine. I’ve got all year to do that! So I thought instead of writing my usual blog about my dates, men and the craziness that ensues when those two worlds collide, I would stop to pay respect to those who have certainly earned it and maybe give a hint of things to come.

For those reading this who don’t know me personally, I have a tendency to rub some people the wrong way. To the outside world I can appear loud, obnoxious, insulting and yes, even offensive, and at times all of these things can be true. So, when I find people to surround myself with that not only overlook all the bad in me, but they let me be who I am, lovingly remind me when I’ve gone too far outside of the lines and even enjoy the company I provide… Well those people need some props!

So first of all thank you to my ever loving and adoring friends Blaine, Jennifer, Mykee and Wendy and the surrounding cast of characters they constantly provide. Without them I would have never been encouraged to write this blog. I appreciate you listening to my whining, my horrible attempts to perfect the punch lines, the times when I’ve come to you to help me think up a catchy title, being patient through the long dry spell of my “Man-Cation” where there wasn’t a blog to be found. Let’s also not forget the long talks with a beer or two in hand, the shoulders to cry on, the laughing until we cried, the always available warm hugs and even the forgiveness when I’ve crossed a line. You are my strength.

To my co-worker Katie, thank you for finding the same people annoying as I do, for your “does this smile look real” that makes me laugh every time, and for looking forward to our “Chemistry Breaks. “ She not only gets me through my day but for the most part is the only reason I haven’t taken a swan dive off the roof of the building we work in or purchased a large semi-automatic weapon.

To my beautiful daughters that have stood by me while I’ve created this crazy world for us, thank you for not killing me in my sleep. I know it’s been tempting. I know I’m not a great mom so thank you for being great kids despite me. Please take my life as an example of who not to be and set the world on fire with your smarts, your charm and the great personalities that God has blessed you with.

And last but not least thank you, the reader, without you, all of these words on the page would be useless and perhaps even silly.

With that being said, as this New Year unfolds, I look forward to bringing you more adventures, more bad dates (not that I’m looking for them, they just seem to happen) maybe a perspective or two on the world through my eyes and lots and lots more laughter! Thank you for reading, sharing this blog with your family and friends, and here at long last, is a preview of what lies ahead for next week:

(I’m still working on the title, I promise you, that is the HARDEST part!)

I felt the twitch. The itch. The discomfort. No, it’s NOT an STD. I think I feel the end of my man-cation coming on. It was a lovely summer of not caring. Not subjecting my self to the perils of dating. Not torturing myself with the mental preparation of learning about a new person only to find out he’s a douche bag. But when I wake up in the morning and I realize that the warm body lying next to me in the bed is my dog, I feel the loneliness and I know that I don’t want to stay that way forever.

Pop Goes The Weasel

2011-08-11T21:42:00.000-04:00

You ever been on the computer and get one of those annoying pop-ups? It’s usually someone trying to sell you some insurance or they want to apply for “free” grant money to go back to school? I get them too. I’ve installed some fancy pop-up blocker to try and eliminate these things, which for the most part has worked. Unfortunately it doesn’t stop former “dates” from rearing their ugly heads. I suppose if I could invent a pop-up blocker for that I could retire in style. Sadly for now I will just have to eliminate them one by one.

“Mick” from my previous blog “The Truth Will Make You Flee” is one of my little pop-up pals and he decides to send me an IM out of the blue one day. My first thought is how do these damn men still have my contact information after all this time? I have long since deleted their names, numbers, pictures, email addresses and anything else I can think of. And after the way things end with some of them… really why would they want to contact me again? I decide to find out.

He tells me he misses me and not just because he wants to try and have sex with me. How friggin romantic. How could I ever resist?

He moves on to some small talk and then I guess after a few minutes he assumes I’m not going to tell him to pound sand and tells me he’s in town this weekend for a visit and would like to see me. Let the games begin! I ask him if he’s seeing anybody. Not really he says. What does that mean? He then goes into a tirade how he’s living with a woman but they aren’t really “together” that they WERE in a relationship but they just didn’t really hit it off and that the only reason that he’s still living there with her is that his name is on the lease. At this point I stop him and LITERALLY ask him if this is Déjà Vu. He actually seems puzzled by this which makes me laugh at him even more. I tell him based on the circumstances I will decline his invitation for an evening out.

He then tells me that he’s moving back to Orlando at the beginning of the year and he would like to keep in touch but to ONLY contact him via his Yahoo IM. Well that doesn’t scream “red flag” now does it?

I tell him sure; we can keep in touch, as long as he goes to my website and becomes a fan. And don’t forget to go to my Facebook page and “Like” me there. Well don’t you know the dumbass does it! Now tell me how on God’s green earth you can go to a website named KateHatesDates.com knowing full well that you have DATED me and not start to maybe read some stuff? Not only that but he then also goes to my Facebook page, “Likes” it which allows me to see HIS page which tells me not only that he is “in a relationship” but it actually also give me her name! You have GOT to be fucking kidding me! Do men actually think that we women are THAT lonely and desperate, or just plain stupid? Whichever one it may be is irrelevant to me because I am still very much in Man-Cation mode at this point.

Mick thankfully hasn’t popped back up since our little conversation and I’m hoping that’s because he finally stopped to read a blog or two and maybe one of them rang a bell. But considering that to this very day he’s still a fan of mine on Facebook, I seriously doubt it.

Deja-Ewwwwwww

2011-08-04T21:38:00.000-04:00

It’s been awhile since I’ve felt the inspiration to write a blog. Honestly I miss the writing much more than I miss the dating, but I’m sure there are one or two of you wondering what is going on in my life so I thought I would catch you up to speed.

I have dubbed my new found disinterest in dating “Man-Cation” (I’m sure there is some TV network I’m supposed to give credit to for that catchy phrase but who it is has escaped me at the moment) I thought that I would have some new amazing discoveries or develop an interesting point of view being separated from the male species but it just doesn’t seem to have happened yet. I’m waiting.

I guess I somehow assumed that my new “fuck off” attitude would be obvious to the opposite sex and they would avoid me and let me go on my merry way. Nope. Like, in most of my blogs, I’ve turned out to be wrong. The ones that don’t really know me seem to get the drift, but the old ones… They KEEP popping up which I surely don’t understand. It’s like I’m in some kind of sick man re-cycle program. Well this girl might be going “green” but it’s only because they make me wanna puke.

While I was sleeping “Two Buck Up Chuck” apparently showed up one night and stuck a note written on half a ripped piece of paper (I’m sure some other girl was lucky enough to get the other half) and inserted it in a brown grocery sack under my windshield wiper explaining to me how he’s grown up & misses me and wishes I would give him another chance. I guess three just isn’t enough and despite the fact that this was extremely creepy knowing he was lurking outside of my house in the dark, I decided to see what kind of maturing he had done.

We had a brief conversation where he vowed to make more time for me and not be a cheap asshole anymore and that his next day off he would call me so he could take me out. I can’t wait.

Wednesday night rolls around and my phone rings sometime after 11 PM. “Ralph” asks me how I’ve been, tells me he’s calling to check on me and asks if he can some see me. “Now?” I reply. He says yeah. To which I reply “ummm, I don’t think so. Weren’t you going to take me OUT?” He says “Oh yes of course I am I’ve just been so busy and I didn’t want you to think I forgot about you.” Even in my Ambien induced state I’m NOT falling for this one. I tell him when he can make a DATE. Call me.

Saturday night arrives with another phone call from Ralph. It goes a little something like this.
Him: “Can I come see you?”
Me: Now?
Him: Yes.
Me: Hmmmm, no.
Him: Why Not?
Me: Because you don’t get to just call me after 10 on a Saturday night and assume that I’m going to drop whatever it is I’m doing for you to try to come over and convince me to give you a piece of ass. Besides, I told you NOT to call me unless you were taking me OUT.

He apologized, tells me I’m right and that he would call me in the morning to make plans. WHOA! Didn’t see that one coming. Except, he doesn’t call me in the morning. He sends me this long ass text telling me that he thought that I was going to be different this time and that he’s soo busy with work and he’s spending all his free time trying to get into modeling…(OMG, you have GOT to be fucking kidding me)

So I decided to seize my opportunity and text him back. I send him the link to my blog and I tell him that he might find “Two Buck Up Chuck” interesting. I don’t know if he read it. Frankly I don’t care, but what I do know is that he hasn’t bothered me since. Life on “Man-Cation” is good.

Hold the Phone-y Baloney!

2011-05-19T19:21:00.000-04:00

I get a call during my lunch on a Tuesday afternoon which I choose to ignore since it’s from a number I don’t recognize. I also ignore the second call from the same number minutes later, and the message that was left, I decided, until I'm at least done eating. But the third phone call gets the better of my curiosity and I answer, thinking this person has called me three times in a row. Maybe it's important.

Wrong.

The voice says “hi, it’s “Brian”, from the bar.” I am now scrambling my brain to try and remember who he is and I have to be honest the name’s not ringing a bell. So I decide to engage him in some conversation to listen to the voice and see if a picture pops into my head.

Oh does it ever.

I remember this guy because he was bugging the HELL out of me while I was trying to hit on someone else. (Who I have already blogged about so don’t get too excited) I remember Brian for a few different reasons.
A. He has the most piercing blue eyes I have ever seen in my life, and being a sucker for blue eyes I can’t help but notice. That’s where the good part ends.
B. He’s very skinny, leathery and looks like he knows his way around a crack pipe
C. He made reference to how much he likes “chubby girls” while waggling his tongue at me which apparently was supposed to be some sort of sign that he's generous and perhaps even good at oral sex

I quickly throw him a card with my number (yes, my real number) in an attempt to get him to go away so I can continue working on my next victim. The problem is then when he calls and I answer, he’s nice. He talks about his job and his family and how much he adores all three of his daughters, which he tells me, are all on the larger size. Damn, I’m a jerk. He ends the call asking me if I would mind if he calls me again in a few days. How could I say no?

A few days later, true to his word, he calls. Talks a little more about his life, asks about mine and towards the end of the phone call asks if I’m going to be at the bar that Friday so we can get to know each other a little better. I let him know that I couldn’t make it that Friday but I would definitely be there the next Friday after that. He says great, he can’t wait to see me again and tells me he’ll call me again in a couple of days.

Except that he doesn’t. Nothing, poof, gone. WTH? Seriously? This guy wasn’t even my type but since he was nice I decided to not judge the book by its cover. I mean after all I am certainly not the specimen of womanly perfection by any means but for some old, wrinkly, God only knows if he even had all of his frickin teeth in his head jackass to just drop me like a hot potato. Well that is certainly a blast to the ol ego.

I will admit at this point I haven’t been back to the bar. I don’t know if I want to. I don’t want to hear some lame excuse of this or that. We all have issues, and at this point I’m not interested in his. Or any one else’s for that matter. Quite frankly I give up! Kate really does hate dates. This my friends, just might be the death of my blog.

Who's Your Daddy? Ummm, Yeah, Not You.

2011-05-05T20:28:00.000-04:00

I am not a rich woman. I work for what I have like everyone else. Most days I like my life, my job, my car and the roof over my head. But then there are those “other” days. The days I wonder what it would be like to live the “good” life. What IS it like down on Easy Street?

I decided that I had enough of hearing the excuses of the “common man” on all the regular dating websites. Tired of the unemployed, under paid and just plain broke ass men telling me why they can’t take me here or there, asking me to split the check when they did or just plain dashing out on the bill all together.

I had heard rumors that there was a website exclusively for “Sugar Daddies” and the women interested in getting one. Well if that didn’t have my name written all over it then I don’t know what does. I put up my profile and it doesn’t take long before “Donald” sends me an email asking to take me out. I tell him to meet me at a place that I had been dying to try.

He shows up and he’s just…….. eh. Not really my type but he did drive an awful long way to meet me so I decided to put the lack of attraction aside and hope that his personality is going to win me over.

Nope, not even close.

He decides the best topic of conversation would be his ex. Who is a stripper. Seriously? (On a side note please tell me how you go from a hot skinny blonde who can shake it with the best of them to well, ummm, me.) He tells me of how he would woo her with jewelry and that his jeweler knew exactly how to make the fake stuff look completely real and how the ex was none the wiser. Wow. Guess I know what NOT to put on my Christmas list.

The evening wears on; we check out a band and have a few drinks. Certainly not the worst date I have ever had and since I know I’m not going to have to foot the bill I’m good with the whole thing but I’m certainly not interested in a second date and from the vibes I’m getting I think it’s a mutual feeling. So man was I surprised when at the end of the date he goes for the goodnight kiss and asks if I want to head to a hotel with him because with all of the women he has had long term relationships with they slept together on the first date.

Wait for it…… wait for it…….

BBBBBWWWWWAAAAAAAAA HHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAA HHHHHHHHAAAAAAA!!!!!!

Do chicks really fall for this crap? Just because you’ve got a few more dollars to spend on a date than the average man you think I’m going to just hop into bed with you? Um sorry, your last romantic encounter might have been with someone who had relationships for money but that is NOT the case with me.

After I’m done laughing in his face I tell him I’ll pass and happily go home ALONE. Maybe I’m crazy but after that I decided that I would much rather be with a blue collar man that works as hard as I do for everything he has. Besides, these kinds of men may not have a lot of money but they are usually not afraid to work hard to please a woman. That’s worth a cheap date anytime if you ask me.

One Pill, Two Pills, Red Pills, Blue Pills?

2011-04-28T19:47:00.000-04:00

I know I whine an awful lot about online dating but there are some advantages. You can keep people at a distance. You can block people who annoy you. And until, if ever, they send you a real picture of themselves they can be as good looking and romantic as your mind can imagine. But realistically the more time you spend on line talking to people the more you hear the same old story. Over and over and over. Sometimes, you just have to turn the computer
OFF

I decided that this was exactly what I was going to do one evening. I gladly exited Cyber Space and waltz my fat rump right into my local hole in the wall bar. I was immediately hit with a wall of smoke and bad karaoke. It was perfect. Exactly what I needed to get my mind off the stresses of my life. I was there to hang with friends but I have always got an eyeball out for a good looking man. Or maybe a blind one or just really drunk one.

As the evening wound down I decided to just sit at the bar and chat with a friend from work. She and I were in the middle of chatting when I notice a man sitting at the end of the bar so I ask her to go get his story. My friend Shannon comes back after giving him my “business card,” announces that he’s in fact single and thinks I’m pretty. (So nice to have a great wingman) So we all start to talk and Shannon slowly makes her way out of the conversation so the two of us can chat. “Mac” seems like a nice, funny southern gentleman. We make small talk, tells me he’s about 10 years older than me, which I’m excited to hear when somehow eventually the topic turns to oysters and he mentions that he’s got him some at home. How can I say no?

I follow him home, we walk through the front door where he immediately goes to a door that’s open and shuts it. I shoot him a look. He tells me that he doesn’t want to disturb his 80 year old parents. Nice. He then tells me he’s glad that he’s finally home and getting something to eat because he needs to take his high blood pressure meds. And his high cholesterol meds. And his anti-anxiety meds but not to worry he’s still got some kick left in his 55 year old body. WHAT? What the hell happened to the mid forties that we discussed earlier? I’m starting to sweat.

We eat the oysters and he offers me a Coke Zero. I tell him I’m a Diet Coke girl myself when he mentions he can’t drink that because he’s diabetic. Man, it just keeps getting better doesn’t it? We eventually (despite all the red flags) head to the bedroom where things head from bad to worse. Apparently all the high blood pressure and cholesterol have got stuff blocked somewhere above the waistline because the goods below don’t work. Despite great effort on both of our parts that sucker wasn’t moving. Mac, quite embarrassed at this point, decides he’s at least going to try to make my night worthwhile. He’s been talking all night so I know his tongue works, now I just hope he’s good at what he does. Well he wasn’t but I figured I would let him be until he thought he was done when he announces “Oh crap, I can’t find my teeth!”

Let me just tell you, in this situation, there are NO words that can be said that can fix this. This is NOT a statement that can EVER be taken back. He eventually does find them. He tells me he took them out before he started which makes me feel slightly better but I don’t really want to know many more details than that. I make some quasi-plausible reason to leave and get the HELL out of there.

I get a obviously drunk dialed message about a week later from Mac about how he would love to take me out be he has to have surgery on his eyes and it’s really hard to save the kind of money he’ll need while he’s not working, and then some nonsense about a pre-nup, and then after about two minutes of rambling and slurring he ends the call with I love you.

Let me tell you my friends, the internet has never sounded better.

Beer and Boners Should Never Go To Waste.

2011-02-24T21:00:00.000-05:00

I guess I shouldn’t JUST complaint about dating. I mean, there have been more than enough stories for me to share about that, don’t get me wrong, but maybe I should also mention the circumstances that have occurred while I was IN a relationship.

I used to be one of those for “better or worse” no matter what folks. Didn’t matter that my partner at the time got himself arrested at one point, thought it was OK to do drugs in the home where his children lived and didn’t share my viewpoint on what being faithful meant. By no means did I turn a blind eye to all that, I made my disgust known but for the most part he knew I was there for the long haul.

During this particular relationship, a dear friend of mine was having his 45th birthday party and I wasn’t missing it for the world. He and his supporting cast of characters are a sight to behold all on their own. Add alcohol to the mix? Hang on because it’s gonna be a wild ride!

The problem was I didn’t have a sitter so my partner was kind enough to drop me off and let me stay until I got my fill and then agreed to come and get me when I was done so I wouldn’t have to drive. I thought this was particularly nice of him. Come to find out later, of course, my ex had ulterior motives.

He instructed my friend to make sure I ALWAYS had a full beer in my hand and that a shot or two here and there wouldn’t hurt either. My ex hadn’t gotten some in quite awhile (from me at least) and I guess he figured if he got me tipsy that I would let my guard down. (Now don’t get me wrong, I LOVE sex and don’t normally have to be plied with alcohol or anything else to get me in the mood but when the person you’re with is screwing ANYONE who will take him up on his offer, I tend to get turned off. Besides why should I give you the PLEASURE of being with me when any cheap whore will do?)

So drink I did, and drink and drink and drink. All the way up until the phone call was made to my ex that it was time to come and get me. I was pushed toward the direction of the car, buckled into the passenger seat and sent off to do the deed. Things were going well. I managed to get in the house, get undressed and into the bed. My ex, very excited about this aspect got into bed with me and started touching me….. when I promptly sat up and ran for the toilet.

I was ILL. The room started spinning and things were not so settled in my stomach as they had been just a few minutes before. I’m sure, as most of you can guess at this point I spent most of the night and some of the next morning on the bathroom floor praying for death.

Since that fateful night I have learned some very valuable lessons. I now know when enough is enough. I have found a fool proof way to cure a hangover. And I have learned that a man with a nasty trick up his sleeve will always get his in the end.

As for still believing in the “for better or worse” thing? It took me a really long time once that relationship ended but all in all I still do. It’s just gonna have to be a whole lot more better and a heck of a lot less worse.

Any takers?

Going Off the Deep End

2011-02-17T19:51:00.000-05:00

If I really stop to think about it, if I really go back and dust off the corners of my mind, I would have to say that I have never liked dating. I don’t like the stress. The wondering if he will call, the trying to remember if I have already worn this outfit, the questioning myself “when he meets my crazy family is he going to run away screaming “and of course why are all the idiots attracted to me? Take this story for example…

I go back to my time in school and the lazy days of summer where every year I looked forward to going to summer camp. This one particular year a new family had moved into town and their sons would be off to summer camp with the rest of us.

Now “Bubba” all on his own was not tragic, but when you put him together with his two brothers they gave off a weird vibe. Like, if you were to ever make out with one of them the other two would be in the closet watching. Maybe they would just giggle and whisper to one another but more likely they would be in there whacking off. In any instance, I wasn’t going to go there. Unfortunately for me, the rumor was that Bubba had a crush on me. I avoided him as much as I could but when we took the trip to camp, things took a turn.

Apparently Bubba decides that he’s going to take advantage of his time at camp with all the long hot nights and start himself a summer romance. Word got back to me that he wanted me to meet him at the boat dock one evening after dark. Presumably to set the mood for our first kiss. I made up my mind that I wasn’t going. I thought that would be a pretty good signal that I wasn’t interested. All my friends kept pushing me though, telling me to at least meet him. I didn’t want to go, but peer pressure got the best of me. I was in the process of trying to think of any excuse I could to not meet him when suddenly, I had an idea…

I met Bubba at the appointed time and humor him with a few minutes of small talk. Make him think that I am interested. It takes awhile but he finally gets the courage to try and kiss me. He closes his eyes and moves in when “WHAM” I push that sucker right off the dock.

Now I see you, sitting there reading this and just chuckling to yourself. Imagining the splash of the water and the surprise look on his face. But that’s not how it goes down. Oh no, there is no actual water under the dock. It’s dry and instead of a splash there is a thud, and a quiet groan. I lean over the dock to where the ball of dust is rising from the impact and I tell Bubba from now on he better leave me alone. Shockingly he doesn’t argue back and I go grinningly happily back to my cabin and get a great night’s sleep.

Thankfully Bubba doesn’t bother me again and somehow I also manage to not get into trouble. I guess Bubba didn’t really want anyone to know he got his ass handed to him by a girl. I spend the next few days happily not worrying about boys or their silly little games.

Then just a few days later “Jud” walks around the corner and for me its love at first sight. Sigh... Bring on the next victim….

Breakin it down

2011-02-10T20:58:00.000-05:00

Ah, the perils of dating. I have told many a story about my experiences and why I hate starting a new relationship. What maybe I haven’t made clear however is that I also hate being single. There are SOME perks to having a shoulder to cry on, a willing ear to listen and maybe even someone to watch out for me when I don’t quite know what I am doing.

Growing up I was lucky enough to have my dad around. He was a tinkerer. He had a garage full of gadgets and I would get to help him with his projects from time to time, so I know my way around a toolbox. I can even run a power tool or two. When it comes to cars however… Count me out.

I’m not so helpless as to not be able to change my own tire or anything like that; I just don’t deal with the mechanics of the whole thing. That’s one of the things men are good for. (I’m not bashing females that can wrench, if you’re into that, you go girl!)

I’m driving along one day, minding my own business when my car decides it’s time to give me some trouble. It’s sputtering, chugging and for the most part refusing my sheer will just to make it home. I manage it get it into a parking lot when the power steering gives out and the car decides that it is done. I call a tow truck and have it hauled home. Where it sits and collects pollen.

It sits in my drive way because I, the person who has no clue about engines or their inner workings, have decided that it has a major issue and won’t be able to be fixed cheap. So I walk to work. Day in and day out. Through the rain, the ridiculous Florida heat, dogs chasing me down the road and yes, even once tripping over my own feet.

One fine day when I arrive at work one of the other employees asks me, what the HELL is the matter with your car? I tell her I have no idea, but whatever it is, I can’t afford to fix it. She tells me that she is going to send her husband to my house to look at it and let me know what is going on. I am sooo excited. I am just praying to myself that whatever it is will be easy on my budget and I won’t have to suffer the commute by foot anymore.

He’s at my house not too long when he calls his wife and tells her to please let me know that there is a hole on the side of the car where you put gas and that makes the car go. WTF? You mean to tell me that I have been haulin my fat ass to work for SEVEN months because my friggin car didn’t have any damn gas? You have got to be kidding me! OMG, I am so embarrassed.

So my prayers are answered, I put gas in the car and off I go again. This should be the happy ending to the story. But, oh no. NOT me. It happens again! You would think the second time that I would have realized that it’s the gas issue but sadly, I do not. So once again my co-workers very patient hubby goes over and looks at it. Laughs his ass off and tells me that I might want to replace the gas gauge because no matter what I do, the car is always going to need gas to run.

Ok, so I’m an idiot. Maybe if I HAD a steady boyfriend I wouldn’t have had to go through all that nonsense. Of course walking to work to work for seven months probably did me some good. Who knows how big my ass would be if I hadn’t gone through that experience!

Waxing and Wayne-ing Part 2

2011-02-03T19:07:00.000-05:00

Continued from Waxing & Wayne-ing Part I

For months and months after “Wayne’s” sudden departure I went through the motions of life but was never really “alive.” Being a single parent who once again was alone, I knew I had to get up in the morning, go to work, come home, and make sure the kids had stuff to eat, but that was it. That was all I did. Then one day I walked into my garage and woke up.

It was that day that I realized all his “stuff” was still there. Neatly boxed and ready to be moved whenever he was ready. But this day was different. I was ready for it to be moved. Five months was long enough. I didn’t really NEED the space in my garage for anything in particular but I NEEDED the space back in my head… and my heart.

I placed a call to his mother to arrange a time for him to come pick up his things. She called me back with a date and time and the plan was set in motion.

The day comes; I open my garage and wait for him to show up knowing my heart is going to leap out of my chest when the doorbell rings. But it never does. No. He instead walks right in. Like he still lives there, grabs me, holds onto me, starts to cry and tells me he loves me. My eyes fill with tears and I am completely speechless.

He walks around for a few minutes and looks at things but doesn’t say a word. I can’t help but wonder what is going through his head. I suggest that we move along and load up his truck. We head to the garage, I open the door and there stands his step-son. WOW! Now that takes balls! And here after all this time, him leaving me to clean up his mess I thought he didn’t have any left. Guess I was wrong. Especially after I had been so kind, NOT cussing him out, NOT setting his shit on fire on the front lawn like EVERYONE told me to do and storing his things for him all this time, he has the nerve to show up with his new wife’s kid. I decide to be the bigger person and I hold my tongue.

First load of stuff is in the truck & he tells me he’ll see in a few minutes to grab the rest. He never does come back. I call his mother later that evening to let her know that he has until 2:00 the next day to get the rest of his things or they are being donated. During this call she asks me if Wayne seemed quiet and if he walked around the house when he was there. Weird. I tell her as a matter of fact he did. Why? She said he told her that he was thinking. Wondering to himself if he really made the right decision.

I know for me at least, once I say “I do” that’s sort of the nail in the coffin for any other previous/potential relationships I might have had but I guess not everyone thinks the same.

2:00 the next day comes and goes. I make a phone call to a friend who brings his truck, in the pouring rain, no questions asked and helps me load it all up and take it away. 3:00 the phone rings. It’s Wayne. Too little too late. I never do answer the phone. I don’t need to nor do I want to.

I know at that moment I am free and a smile comes to my face.

Of course at that time I had NO idea what was waiting for me in the world of dating. If I had only known then what I know now…..

Waxing and Wayne-ing - Part 1

2010-12-16T21:48:00.001-05:00

This story will probably not make you laugh. Even Jim Carey tried serious acting once so what the hell. I will still, as always, inject my unique personality into the telling of this tale. The question has been asked “Whatever happened to Wayne from the blog “Setting the Bar Low”? It’s probably not what you expect, but like all my other blogs, this is a true story.

Several months after leaving the bar and Wayne far behind I’m talking to a good friend of mine on the phone (who just happens to be Wayne’s mother) and she tells me that Wayne is temporarily staying at her house because his dad fired him. And since he didn’t have a job his dad also threw him out of the apartment he was renting from him. Nice. Not sure why she was telling me but OK. Then she said he wanted to talk to me for a minute.

Crap, OK……

He asked me how I’ve been, what I’ve been up to. Small talk. I, of course, asked about the girlfriend and he insisted she was gone. After a few minutes of chatting he asked what I was doing for the evening. When I told him nothing he asked to come over. Sure, I’m a sucker, why not? The crazy thing is he came over that night and stayed. For more than two years. Really some of the best two years of my life if I care to admit it. He found another job quickly and we just sort of fell into this rhythm.

After about two months of him staying at my house every night it dawned on me. Shit, I’m living with somebody. I better tell my mother.

I didn’t mean to get into a relationship. After my divorce I vowed to never let a man treat me like the gum on the bottom of his shoe again and I would do that by just not letting another man get close to me. But he opened doors, took out the trash, always put gas in my car, was affectionate, my kids loved him and he lit up like a Christmas tree every time I walked through the door. And yes, eventually, bought me the most beautiful diamond engagement ring I had ever seen. That’s why when he called me one evening on his way from work and told me he wasn’t coming home, ever, I was in total shock. Said he had to find himself and make sure that he was “man enough” to be married and be a step-father. I believed him and let him have his space. What a FOOL I am!

We would talk on the phone from time to time, cry together and he would tell me how much he still loves me. I would tell him to just come home and that we would figure all this out together. But he insisted that he was doing the right thing for “us” and that we needed to stick this out.

Not even two months go by from the time he left when I get a call from a mutual friend. She wanted to know if I had heard the news. What news? Wayne got married over the weekend.

WHAT THE FUCK?

No, I certainly had not heard this news and was none too happy to hear it now. How the hell could this be? I still had ALL his stuff at my house. We still had a checking account together. He was on my car insurance. The cable was still in his name. My head was spinning.

My world just fell apart.

Part 2 to be posted on 12-23-2010.

All Day Suckers

2010-12-09T22:46:00.000-05:00

Men are suckers. Don’t get me wrong, women can be too. We’re just suckers for different things. There is a reason one of the bestselling books for years was “Men are from Mars…” Almost all the men I know and most of the ones I don’t can be convinced of almost anything if they think a piece of ass will be involved. Us women? We’re a little more sentimental, but for the most part I think that we’re not as different as we may seem. Sometimes.

For instance, I’m a sucker and I know it. I’ve been told so time and time again. (You know who you are) This gets me thinking. Why as a woman do I settle? Is it because I was once told stories about Prince Charming as a little girl and realized as I got older that he was never going to show up? Maybe, but I’m pretty sure Prince Charming is gay anyway.

My PERFECT vision of a man? Tall, has some meat on his bones, looks fantastic in a pair of jeans AND a cowboy hat, has a goatee that frames his killer smile, knows how to treat a lady in AND outside of the bedroom but is still fits right in with the boys. Let’s also not forget romantic, affectionate, can make me laugh, oh and drives a truck. But do I you think that I have ever dated this guy? NO! And why is that do you ask? Because he doesn’t exist! And if by some miracle he did, he certainly wouldn’t be interested in big women.

So, I settle. And not just for some Joe Schmo down the street. No, I’ve got to search Craig’s List for a guy who is in town for three days and wants me to meet him at his hotel room because to a man that’s reasonable. He gets his night of thrills and then gets to go home and forget your name. (FYI, no I did not meet a man in his hotel for the evening, but don’t think that doesn’t mean that I haven’t been offered, and actually the guy who did make this proposition turned out to be a really nice guy who I’ve been friends with online for a few years now but, trust me, he is the exception to the rule.)

I truly DON’T think I’m picky. As you can read from my other blogs I’m willing to give most men the benefit of the doubt even though most of the men I’ve dated don’t deserve this. I think I’m pretty low maintenance. (Although I’ve never dated me so how would I really know?) What I can’t settle on is if you’re an idiot. Maybe you don’t know you’re an idiot. I know we all think we’ve turned out pretty good but trust me it won’t take long for me (or my friends for that matter) very long to figure it out. Which I guess is where the problem starts. So maybe I don’t settle quite as much as I am accused of and so maybe that does make me picky then. But really, when it comes down to it, I just want someone who makes me happy. Regardless of size, height or even whether or not he has hair. Isn’t that what everyone wants?

Guess I’ll just keep waiting and taking my chances with the next guy that comes that comes along that is brave enough to give me a try. Unless of course you know my tall, truck driving cowboy. In that case? Send him my way. I’ve got plans for him.

I'm a proud member of the International Fainting Goat Asssociation

2010-11-25T11:12:00.000-05:00

Young love. Isn’t it so exciting to do things together for the first time? The first time you touch, the first kiss, the first time you make love and let’s not forget the first holiday where you meet all the family and friends.

“Tyrone” and I had been dating for a few years and he decided that he was going to invite me to his mom’s house for Thanksgiving. Tyrone’s family was wonderfully accepting of me which you don’t always find when two people in love are from different cultures and they always treated me with love and respect so it helped a little with the nerves I had about going over.

We walked in the door and it was a whole house filled with people. None of which I really knew so it felt like I had just walked onto a different planet. Apparently everyone else felt like that too because everyone stared at me as I walked in. I stuck out like a sore thumb since I was the only white face in the crowd. I was ready to dash for the door.
Tyrone assured me that everything would be fine just to give it time. So we found a spot on a couch and attempted to join in on a conversation that was already in progress. The problem? The person talking had a really thick Jamaican accent and I had no earthly idea what she was talking about. So I just sat there quiet and just kind of stared. I might as well have had a giant mole on my face and drooled, because I’m sure that’s how stupid I looked. All I could do is pray that we would eat soon. At least that is something everybody does the same and I wouldn’t feel so awkward.

Finally the time for dinner rolled around. I had never been so relieved in my life! It was a beautifully typical Thanksgiving Feast. Turkey, ham, green beans, stuffing, cranberry sauce and then I came across a dish I had never seen before. It had a yellowish hue, looked kinda mushy and not very appetizing. I leaned over to Tyrone and said “what is that?” When he replied “curried goat” I almost fainted.

I mean look at me. I’m a big girl. I’m not afraid of food. I’m not even afraid to try new or exotic foods. I’ve tried eel, octopus and yes even gator tail but I am not eating a fucking goat.

Well needless to say that ruined the meal for me. I was afraid to eat a single bite of anything. Afraid of what other innocent farm creatures might be lurking in the recipe. I patiently waited for Tyrone to finish his feast with his family and friends and then I did finally dash for the door.

When we got outside his brothers were already outside. They were evidently done with their barnyard buffet when Tyrone turned to me and said “are you OK? You don’t look so good.” When I told him that the goat freaked me out his brothers burst out laughing, practically rolling on the ground. I’m sure they were thinking that’s what you get for bringing over a white girl. So, on that note I decided it was time for me to leave. I thanked Tyrone for the invite and happily drove home to a normal Thanksgiving meal.

Now that Tyrone is out of the picture I’m much more relaxed to have a traditional Thanksgiving feast with my friends and family. Bring on the fried turkey, homemade mashed potatoes oh and let’s not forget the strawberry margaritas! I think I’ll raise my glass for a toast. I wish wealth, health, love and laughter to all I love and leave the goats alone.

Lowering the Bar

2010-11-18T21:47:00.000-05:00

Everybody has done the bar scene. It’s what you do with the bar scene that decides if you love it or hate it. Me? Never thought you’d ask. I love it and hate it. You didn’t think it would be any different did you?

One of my dear friends has a son. We’ll call him “Wayne.” Wayne’s mom didn’t particularly like his girlfriend at the time but absolutely adored me and was trying to set us up. So Wayne invites me to the bar to hang out with him. I, in normal circumstances would not think this is a good idea, but since his girlfriend happens to be the bartender I assume everything is on the up and up and I accept the offer.

I pull up to the address and immediately get onto the phone with my best friend because I know she knows every bar this side of the Mississippi and maybe more. I say "Wendy, I’m not in the right place. This is not a bar, it’s a bait shack.” She asks me if this particular car is in the parking lot and when I tell her yes. She tells me I’m in the right place.

Now I’m scared.

So I get my nerves up and walk in. The place is tiny. And it’s definitely a hole in the wall. There are only 5 or 6 barstools and 3 of them already got butts parked on em. I notice also as I enter that the 3 men are talking about shaving legs because one of them calls over to me and asks me if I shave my legs. When I tell him “often” he’s intrigued enough to ask if he can see. I politely show him I’m wearing pants and go sit next to Wayne.

Turns out Wayne is a pretty good conversationalist AND a pretty good listener. We sit and talk for awhile sharing jokes and stories until the girlfriend tells him she’s leaving and that she’ll swing by his place later and kisses him good bye. I assume that at this point he’s leaving since the girlfriend is taking off and go to pay my tab. He tells me he’s staying and asks if I will too. Well the girlfriend saw me there, so again, I agree. We continue to talk, laugh and shoot the shit when all of a sudden I feel my leg being lifted from the barstool. WTH? The guy from earlier, the one who asked me about shaving my legs. He’s hiking up my pants leg to check it out himself. OMG. Thankfully Wayne shoos him away and we go on about our evening.

Midnight comes rolling around and I decide it’s time for me to go. Wayne asks me if I would come home with him. Ummmmmm, what? I kindly remind him that he HAS a girlfriend. To which he replies, “don’t worry, she won’t be there.” I once again nicely remind him that when she left she said she WOULD swing by later and when she did then what? He tells me that if she shows up then she’ll just have to find somewhere else to park. Ahhhh yes. The drunken reasoning of a horned up man at a bar. I explain to him that I don’t really think that the issue is parking and quickly walk myself to the car.

The best thing about the evening though? I had a fantastic time and I learned not to judge a crappy hole in the wall bar by its bait shack cover. You just never know the fun you can get into when you step inside. My advice though before you go? Make sure you shave your legs.

As for whatever happened to Wayne? That’s a LONG LONG LONG, story better to be left for another day and another blog.